From 248d296234dc7ce76294c677bf2ca5e76c2f50d1 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Fudgerboy <91767657+Fudgerboy@users.noreply.github.com> Date: Sun, 14 Apr 2024 05:02:38 +0000 Subject: Sat, Apr 13, 2024, 10:02 PM -07:00 --- wk5/pset/speller/Makefile | 4 + wk5/pset/speller/dictionary.c | 54 + wk5/pset/speller/dictionary.h | 19 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/aca.txt | 17069 +++ wk5/pset/speller/keys/austen.txt | 1621 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/birdman.txt | 1186 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/burnett.txt | 1007 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/carroll.txt | 302 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/cat.txt | 7 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/constitution.txt | 37 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/federalist.txt | 942 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/frankenstein.txt | 2458 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/grimm.txt | 725 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/her.txt | 774 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/holmes.txt | 17852 +++ wk5/pset/speller/keys/homer.txt | 9346 ++ wk5/pset/speller/keys/lalaland.txt | 962 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/mansfield.txt | 871 + ...eumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.txt | 7 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/revenant.txt | 802 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/rinehart.txt | 1185 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/shakespeare.txt | 45698 +++++++ wk5/pset/speller/keys/stein.txt | 2541 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/stoker.txt | 2422 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/surgery.txt | 3688 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/tolstoy.txt | 13015 ++ wk5/pset/speller/keys/wells.txt | 4184 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/whittier.txt | 10118 ++ wk5/pset/speller/keys/wordsworth.txt | 7 + wk5/pset/speller/keys/xueqin1.txt | 7941 ++ wk5/pset/speller/keys/xueqin2.txt | 12551 ++ wk5/pset/speller/speller.c | 196 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/aca.txt | 58485 ++++++++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/austen.txt | 13426 ++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/birdman.txt | 6222 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/burnett.txt | 3209 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/carroll.txt | 3736 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/cat.txt | 1 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/constitution.txt | 872 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/federalist.txt | 19482 +++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/frankenstein.txt | 9304 ++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/grimm.txt | 9624 ++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/her.txt | 6094 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/holmes.txt | 115633 ++++++++++++++++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/homer.txt | 26176 ++++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/lalaland.txt | 4751 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/mansfield.txt | 3235 + ...eumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.txt | 4 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/revenant.txt | 5524 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/rinehart.txt | 3557 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/shakespeare.txt | 124456 ++++++++++++++++++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/stein.txt | 2337 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/stoker.txt | 16624 +++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/surgery.txt | 24335 ++++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/tolstoy.txt | 67403 ++++++++++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/wells.txt | 6793 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/whittier.txt | 82043 ++++++++++++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/wordsworth.txt | 32 + wk5/pset/speller/texts/xueqin1.txt | 19162 +++ wk5/pset/speller/texts/xueqin2.txt | 28246 ++++ 60 files changed, 820357 insertions(+) create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/Makefile create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/dictionary.c create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/dictionary.h create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/aca.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/austen.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/birdman.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/burnett.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/carroll.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/cat.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/constitution.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/federalist.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/frankenstein.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/grimm.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/her.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/holmes.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/homer.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/lalaland.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/mansfield.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/revenant.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/rinehart.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/shakespeare.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/stein.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/stoker.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/surgery.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/tolstoy.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/wells.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/whittier.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/wordsworth.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/xueqin1.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/keys/xueqin2.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/speller.c create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/aca.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/austen.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/birdman.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/burnett.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/carroll.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/cat.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/constitution.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/federalist.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/frankenstein.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/grimm.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/her.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/holmes.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/homer.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/lalaland.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/mansfield.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/revenant.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/rinehart.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/shakespeare.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/stein.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/stoker.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/surgery.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/tolstoy.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/wells.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/whittier.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/wordsworth.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/xueqin1.txt create mode 100644 wk5/pset/speller/texts/xueqin2.txt (limited to 'wk5/pset/speller') diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/Makefile b/wk5/pset/speller/Makefile new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cec61f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/Makefile @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +speller: + clang -ggdb3 -gdwarf-4 -O0 -Qunused-arguments -std=c11 -Wall -Werror -Wextra -Wno-gnu-folding-constant -Wno-sign-compare -Wno-unused-parameter -Wno-unused-variable -Wshadow -c -o speller.o speller.c + clang -ggdb3 -gdwarf-4 -O0 -Qunused-arguments -std=c11 -Wall -Werror -Wextra -Wno-gnu-folding-constant -Wno-sign-compare -Wno-unused-parameter -Wno-unused-variable -Wshadow -c -o dictionary.o dictionary.c + clang -ggdb3 -gdwarf-4 -O0 -Qunused-arguments -std=c11 -Wall -Werror -Wextra -Wno-gnu-folding-constant -Wno-sign-compare -Wno-unused-parameter -Wno-unused-variable -Wshadow -o speller speller.o dictionary.o -lm diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/dictionary.c b/wk5/pset/speller/dictionary.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a20c467 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/dictionary.c @@ -0,0 +1,54 @@ +// Implements a dictionary's functionality + +#include +#include + +#include "dictionary.h" + +// Represents a node in a hash table +typedef struct node +{ + char word[LENGTH + 1]; + struct node *next; +} node; + +// TODO: Choose number of buckets in hash table +const unsigned int N = 26; + +// Hash table +node *table[N]; + +// Returns true if word is in dictionary, else false +bool check(const char *word) +{ + // TODO + return false; +} + +// Hashes word to a number +unsigned int hash(const char *word) +{ + // TODO: Improve this hash function + return toupper(word[0]) - 'A'; +} + +// Loads dictionary into memory, returning true if successful, else false +bool load(const char *dictionary) +{ + // TODO + return false; +} + +// Returns number of words in dictionary if loaded, else 0 if not yet loaded +unsigned int size(void) +{ + // TODO + return 0; +} + +// Unloads dictionary from memory, returning true if successful, else false +bool unload(void) +{ + // TODO + return false; +} diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/dictionary.h b/wk5/pset/speller/dictionary.h new file mode 100644 index 0000000..99e9904 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/dictionary.h @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ +// Declares a dictionary's functionality + +#ifndef DICTIONARY_H +#define DICTIONARY_H + +#include + +// Maximum length for a word +// (e.g., pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis) +#define LENGTH 45 + +// Prototypes +bool check(const char *word); +unsigned int hash(const char *word); +bool load(const char *dictionary); +unsigned int size(void); +bool unload(void); + +#endif // DICTIONARY_H diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/keys/aca.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/keys/aca.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..06fb2d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/keys/aca.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17069 @@ + +MISSPELLED WORDS + +U +S +STAT +H +R +Act'' +b +rescissions +B +uninsured +retirees +C +STAT +D +V +E +b +STAT +F +G +Nondiscrimination +nonelderly +FMAP +B +C +D +E +Rebalancing +F +STAT +G +DSH +H +J +MACPAC +MACPAC +K +B +L +PPS +CMS +readmissions +STAT +gainsharing +B +B +TRICARE +MDH +MedPAC +DSH +Misvalued +wheelchairs +biosimilar +HHS +C +C +STAT +Medigap +D +D +PD +D +minimis +PD +PD +PD +D +PD +PD +PD +D +E +Sustainability +B +F +decisionmaking +G +B +healthcare +STAT +C +D +E +CBO +V +B +C +D +STAT +B +D +E +F +nonprovider +G +FQHCs +rulemaking +underserved +H +B +disclosable +website +STAT +C +D +E +Healthcare +RAC +F +clearinghouses +payees +MMIS +Overpayments +G +MEWA +H +Biologics +STAT +biosimilar +B +Underserved +W +HSAs +MSAs +D +B +X +B +C +D +E +F +G +B +STAT +C +readmissions +DSH +D +MTM +D +B +C +D +E +Adam's +E +V +V 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+similingly +LV +LV +LV +Are'nt +musn't +nothwithstanding +are'nt +EBOOK +MENG +txt +eBooks +txt +txt +eBooks +eBooks +eBooks +eBooks +http +http +promo +pg +eBooks +eBook +http +ibiblio +org +ibiblio +org +docs +eBook +eBooks +eBooks +eBooks +eBooks +eBooks +c +http +html +S +EBOOKS +eBook +eBook +EBOOK +tm +eBook +eBook +eBook +TM +EBOOKS +tm +eBook +tm +eBooks +S +eBook +eBooks +eBooks +eBook +eBook +tm +eBook +eBook +EBOOK +EBOOK +tm +eBook +eBook +tm +eBook +eBook +eBook +eBook +eBook +eBook +eBook +eBook +eBook's +C +S +eBooks +EBOOKS +Ver + +WORDS MISSPELLED: 12544 +WORDS IN DICTIONARY: 143091 +WORDS IN TEXT: 265867 diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/speller.c b/wk5/pset/speller/speller.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..39e22eb --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/speller.c @@ -0,0 +1,196 @@ +// Implements a spell-checker + +#include +#include +#include +#include + +#include "dictionary.h" + +// Undefine any definitions +#undef calculate +#undef getrusage + +// Default dictionary +#define DICTIONARY "dictionaries/large" + +// Prototype +double calculate(const struct rusage *b, const struct rusage *a); + +int main(int argc, char *argv[]) +{ + // Check for correct number of args + if (argc != 2 && argc != 3) + { + printf("Usage: ./speller [DICTIONARY] text\n"); + return 1; + } + + // Structures for timing data + struct rusage before, after; + + // Benchmarks + double time_load = 0.0, time_check = 0.0, time_size = 0.0, time_unload = 0.0; + + // Determine dictionary to use + char *dictionary = (argc == 3) ? argv[1] : DICTIONARY; + + // Load dictionary + getrusage(RUSAGE_SELF, &before); + bool loaded = load(dictionary); + getrusage(RUSAGE_SELF, &after); + + // Exit if dictionary not loaded + if (!loaded) + { + printf("Could not load %s.\n", dictionary); + return 1; + } + + // Calculate time to load dictionary + time_load = calculate(&before, &after); + + // Try to open text + char *text = (argc == 3) ? argv[2] : argv[1]; + FILE *file = fopen(text, "r"); + if (file == NULL) + { + printf("Could not open %s.\n", text); + unload(); + return 1; + } + + // Prepare to report misspellings + printf("\nMISSPELLED WORDS\n\n"); + + // Prepare to spell-check + int index = 0, misspellings = 0, words = 0; + char word[LENGTH + 1]; + + // Spell-check each word in text + char c; + while (fread(&c, sizeof(char), 1, file)) + { + // Allow only alphabetical characters and apostrophes + if (isalpha(c) || (c == '\'' && index > 0)) + { + // Append character to word + word[index] = c; + index++; + + // Ignore alphabetical strings too long to be words + if (index > LENGTH) + { + // Consume remainder of alphabetical string + while (fread(&c, sizeof(char), 1, file) && isalpha(c)); + + // Prepare for new word + index = 0; + } + } + + // Ignore words with numbers (like MS Word can) + else if (isdigit(c)) + { + // Consume remainder of alphanumeric string + while (fread(&c, sizeof(char), 1, file) && isalnum(c)); + + // Prepare for new word + index = 0; + } + + // We must have found a whole word + else if (index > 0) + { + // Terminate current word + word[index] = '\0'; + + // Update counter + words++; + + // Check word's spelling + getrusage(RUSAGE_SELF, &before); + bool misspelled = !check(word); + getrusage(RUSAGE_SELF, &after); + + // Update benchmark + time_check += calculate(&before, &after); + + // Print word if misspelled + if (misspelled) + { + printf("%s\n", word); + misspellings++; + } + + // Prepare for next word + index = 0; + } + } + + // Check whether there was an error + if (ferror(file)) + { + fclose(file); + printf("Error reading %s.\n", text); + unload(); + return 1; + } + + // Close text + fclose(file); + + // Determine dictionary's size + getrusage(RUSAGE_SELF, &before); + unsigned int n = size(); + getrusage(RUSAGE_SELF, &after); + + // Calculate time to determine dictionary's size + time_size = calculate(&before, &after); + + // Unload dictionary + getrusage(RUSAGE_SELF, &before); + bool unloaded = unload(); + getrusage(RUSAGE_SELF, &after); + + // Abort if dictionary not unloaded + if (!unloaded) + { + printf("Could not unload %s.\n", dictionary); + return 1; + } + + // Calculate time to unload dictionary + time_unload = calculate(&before, &after); + + // Report benchmarks + printf("\nWORDS MISSPELLED: %d\n", misspellings); + printf("WORDS IN DICTIONARY: %d\n", n); + printf("WORDS IN TEXT: %d\n", words); + printf("TIME IN load: %.2f\n", time_load); + printf("TIME IN check: %.2f\n", time_check); + printf("TIME IN size: %.2f\n", time_size); + printf("TIME IN unload: %.2f\n", time_unload); + printf("TIME IN TOTAL: %.2f\n\n", + time_load + time_check + time_size + time_unload); + + // Success + return 0; +} + +// Returns number of seconds between b and a +double calculate(const struct rusage *b, const struct rusage *a) +{ + if (b == NULL || a == NULL) + { + return 0.0; + } + else + { + return ((((a->ru_utime.tv_sec * 1000000 + a->ru_utime.tv_usec) - + (b->ru_utime.tv_sec * 1000000 + b->ru_utime.tv_usec)) + + ((a->ru_stime.tv_sec * 1000000 + a->ru_stime.tv_usec) - + (b->ru_stime.tv_sec * 1000000 + b->ru_stime.tv_usec))) + / 1000000.0); + } +} diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/aca.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/aca.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..229c84a --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/aca.txt @@ -0,0 +1,58485 @@ +[111th Congress Public Law 148] +[From the U.S. Government Printing Office] + + + +[[Page 124 STAT. 119]] + +Public Law 111-148 +111th Congress + + An Act + + + + Entitled The Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act. <> + + Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the +United States of America in Congress assembled, <> + +SECTION 1. SHORT TITLE; TABLE OF CONTENTS. + + (a) Short <> Title.--This Act may be cited +as the ``Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act''. + + (b) Table of Contents.--The table of contents of this Act is as +follows: + +Sec. 1. Short title; table of contents. + + TITLE I--QUALITY, AFFORDABLE HEALTH CARE FOR ALL AMERICANS + + Subtitle A--Immediate Improvements in Health Care Coverage for All + Americans + +Sec. 1001. Amendments to the Public Health Service Act. + + ``PART A--Individual and Group Market Reforms + + ``subpart ii--improving coverage + + ``Sec. 2711. No lifetime or annual limits. + ``Sec. 2712. Prohibition on rescissions. + ``Sec. 2713. Coverage of preventive health services. + ``Sec. 2714. Extension of dependent coverage. + ``Sec. 2715. Development and utilization of uniform explanation + of coverage documents and standardized + definitions. + ``Sec. 2716. Prohibition of discrimination based on salary. + ``Sec. 2717. Ensuring the quality of care. + ``Sec. 2718. Bringing down the cost of health care coverage. + ``Sec. 2719. Appeals process. +Sec. 1002. Health insurance consumer information. +Sec. 1003. Ensuring that consumers get value for their dollars. +Sec. 1004. Effective dates. + + Subtitle B--Immediate Actions to Preserve and Expand Coverage + +Sec. 1101. Immediate access to insurance for uninsured individuals with + a preexisting condition. +Sec. 1102. Reinsurance for early retirees. +Sec. 1103. Immediate information that allows consumers to identify + affordable coverage options. +Sec. 1104. Administrative simplification. +Sec. 1105. Effective date. + + Subtitle C--Quality Health Insurance Coverage for All Americans + + PART I--Health Insurance Market Reforms + +Sec. 1201. Amendment to the Public Health Service Act. + + ``subpart i--general reform + + ``Sec. 2704. Prohibition of preexisting condition exclusions or + other discrimination based on health status. + ``Sec. 2701. Fair health insurance premiums. + ``Sec. 2702. Guaranteed availability of coverage. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 120]] + + ``Sec. 2703. Guaranteed renewability of coverage. + ``Sec. 2705. Prohibiting discrimination against individual + participants and beneficiaries based on + health status. + ``Sec. 2706. Non-discrimination in health care. + ``Sec. 2707. Comprehensive health insurance coverage. + ``Sec. 2708. Prohibition on excessive waiting periods. + + PART II--Other Provisions + +Sec. 1251. Preservation of right to maintain existing coverage. +Sec. 1252. Rating reforms must apply uniformly to all health insurance + issuers and group health plans. +Sec. 1253. Effective dates. + + Subtitle D--Available Coverage Choices for All Americans + + PART I--Establishment of Qualified Health Plans + +Sec. 1301. Qualified health plan defined. +Sec. 1302. Essential health benefits requirements. +Sec. 1303. Special rules. +Sec. 1304. Related definitions. + + PART II--Consumer Choices and Insurance Competition Through Health + Benefit Exchanges + +Sec. 1311. Affordable choices of health benefit plans. +Sec. 1312. Consumer choice. +Sec. 1313. Financial integrity. + + PART III--State Flexibility Relating to Exchanges + +Sec. 1321. State flexibility in operation and enforcement of Exchanges + and related requirements. +Sec. 1322. Federal program to assist establishment and operation of + nonprofit, member-run health insurance issuers. +Sec. 1323. Community health insurance option. +Sec. 1324. Level playing field. + + PART IV--State Flexibility to Establish Alternative Programs + +Sec. 1331. State flexibility to establish basic health programs for low- + income individuals not eligible for Medicaid. +Sec. 1332. Waiver for State innovation. +Sec. 1333. Provisions relating to offering of plans in more than one + State. + + PART V--Reinsurance and Risk Adjustment + +Sec. 1341. Transitional reinsurance program for individual and small + group markets in each State. +Sec. 1342. Establishment of risk corridors for plans in individual and + small group markets. +Sec. 1343. Risk adjustment. + + Subtitle E--Affordable Coverage Choices for All Americans + + PART I--Premium Tax Credits and Cost-sharing Reductions + + subpart a--premium tax credits and cost-sharing reductions + +Sec. 1401. Refundable tax credit providing premium assistance for + coverage under a qualified health plan. +Sec. 1402. Reduced cost-sharing for individuals enrolling in qualified + health plans. + + subpart b--eligibility determinations + +Sec. 1411. Procedures for determining eligibility for Exchange + participation, premium tax credits and reduced cost-sharing, + and individual responsibility exemptions. +Sec. 1412. Advance determination and payment of premium tax credits and + cost-sharing reductions. +Sec. 1413. Streamlining of procedures for enrollment through an exchange + and State Medicaid, CHIP, and health subsidy programs. +Sec. 1414. Disclosures to carry out eligibility requirements for certain + programs. +Sec. 1415. Premium tax credit and cost-sharing reduction payments + disregarded for Federal and Federally-assisted programs. + + PART II--Small Business Tax Credit + +Sec. 1421. Credit for employee health insurance expenses of small + businesses. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 121]] + + Subtitle F--Shared Responsibility for Health Care + + PART I--Individual Responsibility + +Sec. 1501. Requirement to maintain minimum essential coverage. +Sec. 1502. Reporting of health insurance coverage. + + PART II--Employer Responsibilities + +Sec. 1511. Automatic enrollment for employees of large employers. +Sec. 1512. Employer requirement to inform employees of coverage options. +Sec. 1513. Shared responsibility for employers. +Sec. 1514. Reporting of employer health insurance coverage. +Sec. 1515. Offering of Exchange-participating qualified health plans + through cafeteria plans. + + Subtitle G--Miscellaneous Provisions + +Sec. 1551. Definitions. +Sec. 1552. Transparency in government. +Sec. 1553. Prohibition against discrimination on assisted suicide. +Sec. 1554. Access to therapies. +Sec. 1555. Freedom not to participate in Federal health insurance + programs. +Sec. 1556. Equity for certain eligible survivors. +Sec. 1557. Nondiscrimination. +Sec. 1558. Protections for employees. +Sec. 1559. Oversight. +Sec. 1560. Rules of construction. +Sec. 1561. Health information technology enrollment standards and + protocols. +Sec. 1562. Conforming amendments. +Sec. 1563. Sense of the Senate promoting fiscal responsibility. + + TITLE II--ROLE OF PUBLIC PROGRAMS + + Subtitle A--Improved Access to Medicaid + +Sec. 2001. Medicaid coverage for the lowest income populations. +Sec. 2002. Income eligibility for nonelderly determined using modified + gross income. +Sec. 2003. Requirement to offer premium assistance for employer- + sponsored insurance. +Sec. 2004. Medicaid coverage for former foster care children. +Sec. 2005. Payments to territories. +Sec. 2006. Special adjustment to FMAP determination for certain States + recovering from a major disaster. +Sec. 2007. Medicaid Improvement Fund rescission. + +Subtitle B--Enhanced Support for the Children's Health Insurance Program + +Sec. 2101. Additional federal financial participation for CHIP. +Sec. 2102. Technical corrections. + + Subtitle C--Medicaid and CHIP Enrollment Simplification + +Sec. 2201. Enrollment Simplification and coordination with State Health + Insurance Exchanges. +Sec. 2202. Permitting hospitals to make presumptive eligibility + determinations for all Medicaid eligible populations. + + Subtitle D--Improvements to Medicaid Services + +Sec. 2301. Coverage for freestanding birth center services. +Sec. 2302. Concurrent care for children. +Sec. 2303. State eligibility option for family planning services. +Sec. 2304. Clarification of definition of medical assistance. + + Subtitle E--New Options for States to Provide Long-Term Services and + Supports + +Sec. 2401. Community First Choice Option. +Sec. 2402. Removal of barriers to providing home and community-based + services. +Sec. 2403. Money Follows the Person Rebalancing Demonstration. +Sec. 2404. Protection for recipients of home and community-based + services against spousal impoverishment. +Sec. 2405. Funding to expand State Aging and Disability Resource + Centers. +Sec. 2406. Sense of the Senate regarding long-term care. + + Subtitle F--Medicaid Prescription Drug Coverage + +Sec. 2501. Prescription drug rebates. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 122]] + +Sec. 2502. Elimination of exclusion of coverage of certain drugs. +Sec. 2503. Providing adequate pharmacy reimbursement. + + Subtitle G--Medicaid Disproportionate Share Hospital (DSH) Payments + +Sec. 2551. Disproportionate share hospital payments. + + Subtitle H--Improved Coordination for Dual Eligible Beneficiaries + +Sec. 2601. 5-year period for demonstration projects. +Sec. 2602. Providing Federal coverage and payment coordination for dual + eligible beneficiaries. + +Subtitle I--Improving the Quality of Medicaid for Patients and Providers + +Sec. 2701. Adult health quality measures. +Sec. 2702. Payment Adjustment for Health Care-Acquired Conditions. +Sec. 2703. State option to provide health homes for enrollees with + chronic conditions. +Sec. 2704. Demonstration project to evaluate integrated care around a + hospitalization. +Sec. 2705. Medicaid Global Payment System Demonstration Project. +Sec. 2706. Pediatric Accountable Care Organization Demonstration + Project. +Sec. 2707. Medicaid emergency psychiatric demonstration project. + + Subtitle J--Improvements to the Medicaid and CHIP Payment and Access + Commission (MACPAC) + +Sec. 2801. MACPAC assessment of policies affecting all Medicaid + beneficiaries. + + Subtitle K--Protections for American Indians and Alaska Natives + +Sec. 2901. Special rules relating to Indians. +Sec. 2902. Elimination of sunset for reimbursement for all medicare part + B services furnished by certain indian hospitals and clinics. + + Subtitle L--Maternal and Child Health Services + +Sec. 2951. Maternal, infant, and early childhood home visiting programs. +Sec. 2952. Support, education, and research for postpartum depression. +Sec. 2953. Personal responsibility education. +Sec. 2954. Restoration of funding for abstinence education. +Sec. 2955. Inclusion of information about the importance of having a + health care power of attorney in transition planning for + children aging out of foster care and independent living + programs. + + TITLE III--IMPROVING THE QUALITY AND EFFICIENCY OF HEALTH CARE + + Subtitle A--Transforming the Health Care Delivery System + + PART I--Linking Payment to Quality Outcomes Under the Medicare Program + +Sec. 3001. Hospital Value-Based purchasing program. +Sec. 3002. Improvements to the physician quality reporting system. +Sec. 3003. Improvements to the physician feedback program. +Sec. 3004. Quality reporting for long-term care hospitals, inpatient + rehabilitation hospitals, and hospice programs. +Sec. 3005. Quality reporting for PPS-exempt cancer hospitals. +Sec. 3006. Plans for a Value-Based purchasing program for skilled + nursing facilities and home health agencies. +Sec. 3007. Value-based payment modifier under the physician fee + schedule. +Sec. 3008. Payment adjustment for conditions acquired in hospitals. + + PART II--National Strategy to Improve Health Care Quality + +Sec. 3011. National strategy. +Sec. 3012. Interagency Working Group on Health Care Quality. +Sec. 3013. Quality measure development. +Sec. 3014. Quality measurement. +Sec. 3015. Data collection; public reporting. + + PART III--Encouraging Development of New Patient Care Models + +Sec. 3021. Establishment of Center for Medicare and Medicaid Innovation + within CMS. +Sec. 3022. Medicare shared savings program. +Sec. 3023. National pilot program on payment bundling. +Sec. 3024. Independence at home demonstration program. +Sec. 3025. Hospital readmissions reduction program. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 123]] + +Sec. 3026. Community-Based Care Transitions Program. +Sec. 3027. Extension of gainsharing demonstration. + + Subtitle B--Improving Medicare for Patients and Providers + +PART I--Ensuring Beneficiary Access to Physician Care and Other Services + +Sec. 3101. Increase in the physician payment update. +Sec. 3102. Extension of the work geographic index floor and revisions to + the practice expense geographic adjustment under the Medicare + physician fee schedule. +Sec. 3103. Extension of exceptions process for Medicare therapy caps. +Sec. 3104. Extension of payment for technical component of certain + physician pathology services. +Sec. 3105. Extension of ambulance add-ons. +Sec. 3106. Extension of certain payment rules for long-term care + hospital services and of moratorium on the establishment of + certain hospitals and facilities. +Sec. 3107. Extension of physician fee schedule mental health add-on. +Sec. 3108. Permitting physician assistants to order post-Hospital + extended care services. +Sec. 3109. Exemption of certain pharmacies from accreditation + requirements. +Sec. 3110. Part B special enrollment period for disabled TRICARE + beneficiaries. +Sec. 3111. Payment for bone density tests. +Sec. 3112. Revision to the Medicare Improvement Fund. +Sec. 3113. Treatment of certain complex diagnostic laboratory tests. +Sec. 3114. Improved access for certified nurse-midwife services. + + PART II--Rural Protections + +Sec. 3121. Extension of outpatient hold harmless provision. +Sec. 3122. Extension of Medicare reasonable costs payments for certain + clinical diagnostic laboratory tests furnished to hospital + patients in certain rural areas. +Sec. 3123. Extension of the Rural Community Hospital Demonstration + Program. +Sec. 3124. Extension of the Medicare-dependent hospital (MDH) program. +Sec. 3125. Temporary improvements to the Medicare inpatient hospital + payment adjustment for low-volume hospitals. +Sec. 3126. Improvements to the demonstration project on community health + integration models in certain rural counties. +Sec. 3127. MedPAC study on adequacy of Medicare payments for health care + providers serving in rural areas. +Sec. 3128. Technical correction related to critical access hospital + services. +Sec. 3129. Extension of and revisions to Medicare rural hospital + flexibility program. + + PART III--Improving Payment Accuracy + +Sec. 3131. Payment adjustments for home health care. +Sec. 3132. Hospice reform. +Sec. 3133. Improvement to medicare disproportionate share hospital (DSH) + payments. +Sec. 3134. Misvalued codes under the physician fee schedule. +Sec. 3135. Modification of equipment utilization factor for advanced + imaging services. +Sec. 3136. Revision of payment for power-driven wheelchairs. +Sec. 3137. Hospital wage index improvement. +Sec. 3138. Treatment of certain cancer hospitals. +Sec. 3139. Payment for biosimilar biological products. +Sec. 3140. Medicare hospice concurrent care demonstration program. +Sec. 3141. Application of budget neutrality on a national basis in the + calculation of the Medicare hospital wage index floor. +Sec. 3142. HHS study on urban Medicare-dependent hospitals. +Sec. 3143. Protecting home health benefits. + + Subtitle C--Provisions Relating to Part C + +Sec. 3201. Medicare Advantage payment. +Sec. 3202. Benefit protection and simplification. +Sec. 3203. Application of coding intensity adjustment during MA payment + transition. +Sec. 3204. Simplification of annual beneficiary election periods. +Sec. 3205. Extension for specialized MA plans for special needs + individuals. +Sec. 3206. Extension of reasonable cost contracts. +Sec. 3207. Technical correction to MA private fee-for-service plans. +Sec. 3208. Making senior housing facility demonstration permanent. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 124]] + +Sec. 3209. Authority to deny plan bids. +Sec. 3210. Development of new standards for certain Medigap plans. + +Subtitle D--Medicare Part D Improvements for Prescription Drug Plans and + MA-PD Plans + +Sec. 3301. Medicare coverage gap discount program. +Sec. 3302. Improvement in determination of Medicare part D low-income + benchmark premium. +Sec. 3303. Voluntary de minimis policy for subsidy eligible individuals + under prescription drug plans and MA-PD plans. +Sec. 3304. Special rule for widows and widowers regarding eligibility + for low-income assistance. +Sec. 3305. Improved information for subsidy eligible individuals + reassigned to prescription drug plans and MA-PD plans. +Sec. 3306. Funding outreach and assistance for low-income programs. +Sec. 3307. Improving formulary requirements for prescription drug plans + and MA-PD plans with respect to certain categories or classes + of drugs. +Sec. 3308. Reducing part D premium subsidy for high-income + beneficiaries. +Sec. 3309. Elimination of cost sharing for certain dual eligible + individuals. +Sec. 3310. Reducing wasteful dispensing of outpatient prescription drugs + in long-term care facilities under prescription drug plans + and MA-PD plans. +Sec. 3311. Improved Medicare prescription drug plan and MA-PD plan + complaint system. +Sec. 3312. Uniform exceptions and appeals process for prescription drug + plans and MA-PD plans. +Sec. 3313. Office of the Inspector General studies and reports. +Sec. 3314. Including costs incurred by AIDS drug assistance programs and + Indian Health Service in providing prescription drugs toward + the annual out-of-pocket threshold under part D. +Sec. 3315. Immediate reduction in coverage gap in 2010. + + Subtitle E--Ensuring Medicare Sustainability + +Sec. 3401. Revision of certain market basket updates and incorporation + of productivity improvements into market basket updates that + do not already incorporate such improvements. +Sec. 3402. Temporary adjustment to the calculation of part B premiums. +Sec. 3403. Independent Medicare Advisory Board. + + Subtitle F--Health Care Quality Improvements + +Sec. 3501. Health care delivery system research; Quality improvement + technical assistance. +Sec. 3502. Establishing community health teams to support the patient- + centered medical home. +Sec. 3503. Medication management services in treatment of chronic + disease. +Sec. 3504. Design and implementation of regionalized systems for + emergency care. +Sec. 3505. Trauma care centers and service availability. +Sec. 3506. Program to facilitate shared decisionmaking. +Sec. 3507. Presentation of prescription drug benefit and risk + information. +Sec. 3508. Demonstration program to integrate quality improvement and + patient safety training into clinical education of health + professionals. +Sec. 3509. Improving women's health. +Sec. 3510. Patient navigator program. +Sec. 3511. Authorization of appropriations. + + Subtitle G--Protecting and Improving Guaranteed Medicare Benefits + +Sec. 3601. Protecting and improving guaranteed Medicare benefits. +Sec. 3602. No cuts in guaranteed benefits. + + TITLE IV--PREVENTION OF CHRONIC DISEASE AND IMPROVING PUBLIC HEALTH + + Subtitle A--Modernizing Disease Prevention and Public Health Systems + +Sec. 4001. National Prevention, Health Promotion and Public Health + Council. +Sec. 4002. Prevention and Public Health Fund. +Sec. 4003. Clinical and community preventive services. +Sec. 4004. Education and outreach campaign regarding preventive + benefits. + + Subtitle B--Increasing Access to Clinical Preventive Services + +Sec. 4101. School-based health centers. +Sec. 4102. Oral healthcare prevention activities. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 125]] + +Sec. 4103. Medicare coverage of annual wellness visit providing a + personalized prevention plan. +Sec. 4104. Removal of barriers to preventive services in Medicare. +Sec. 4105. Evidence-based coverage of preventive services in Medicare. +Sec. 4106. Improving access to preventive services for eligible adults + in Medicaid. +Sec. 4107. Coverage of comprehensive tobacco cessation services for + pregnant women in Medicaid. +Sec. 4108. Incentives for prevention of chronic diseases in medicaid. + + Subtitle C--Creating Healthier Communities + +Sec. 4201. Community transformation grants. +Sec. 4202. Healthy aging, living well; evaluation of community-based + prevention and wellness programs for Medicare beneficiaries. +Sec. 4203. Removing barriers and improving access to wellness for + individuals with disabilities. +Sec. 4204. Immunizations. +Sec. 4205. Nutrition labeling of standard menu items at chain + restaurants. +Sec. 4206. Demonstration project concerning individualized wellness + plan. +Sec. 4207. Reasonable break time for nursing mothers. + + Subtitle D--Support for Prevention and Public Health Innovation + +Sec. 4301. Research on optimizing the delivery of public health + services. +Sec. 4302. Understanding health disparities: data collection and + analysis. +Sec. 4303. CDC and employer-based wellness programs. +Sec. 4304. Epidemiology-Laboratory Capacity Grants. +Sec. 4305. Advancing research and treatment for pain care management. +Sec. 4306. Funding for Childhood Obesity Demonstration Project. + + Subtitle E--Miscellaneous Provisions + +Sec. 4401. Sense of the Senate concerning CBO scoring. +Sec. 4402. Effectiveness of Federal health and wellness initiatives. + + TITLE V--HEALTH CARE WORKFORCE + + Subtitle A--Purpose and Definitions + +Sec. 5001. Purpose. +Sec. 5002. Definitions. + + Subtitle B--Innovations in the Health Care Workforce + +Sec. 5101. National health care workforce commission. +Sec. 5102. State health care workforce development grants. +Sec. 5103. Health care workforce assessment. + + Subtitle C--Increasing the Supply of the Health Care Workforce + +Sec. 5201. Federally supported student loan funds. +Sec. 5202. Nursing student loan program. +Sec. 5203. Health care workforce loan repayment programs. +Sec. 5204. Public health workforce recruitment and retention programs. +Sec. 5205. Allied health workforce recruitment and retention programs. +Sec. 5206. Grants for State and local programs. +Sec. 5207. Funding for National Health Service Corps. +Sec. 5208. Nurse-managed health clinics. +Sec. 5209. Elimination of cap on commissioned corps. +Sec. 5210. Establishing a Ready Reserve Corps. + + Subtitle D--Enhancing Health Care Workforce Education and Training + +Sec. 5301. Training in family medicine, general internal medicine, + general pediatrics, and physician assistantship. +Sec. 5302. Training opportunities for direct care workers. +Sec. 5303. Training in general, pediatric, and public health dentistry. +Sec. 5304. Alternative dental health care providers demonstration + project. +Sec. 5305. Geriatric education and training; career awards; + comprehensive geriatric education. +Sec. 5306. Mental and behavioral health education and training grants. +Sec. 5307. Cultural competency, prevention, and public health and + individuals with disabilities training. +Sec. 5308. Advanced nursing education grants. +Sec. 5309. Nurse education, practice, and retention grants. +Sec. 5310. Loan repayment and scholarship program. +Sec. 5311. Nurse faculty loan program. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 126]] + +Sec. 5312. Authorization of appropriations for parts B through D of + title VIII. +Sec. 5313. Grants to promote the community health workforce. +Sec. 5314. Fellowship training in public health. +Sec. 5315. United States Public Health Sciences Track. + + Subtitle E--Supporting the Existing Health Care Workforce + +Sec. 5401. Centers of excellence. +Sec. 5402. Health care professionals training for diversity. +Sec. 5403. Interdisciplinary, community-based linkages. +Sec. 5404. Workforce diversity grants. +Sec. 5405. Primary care extension program. + + Subtitle F--Strengthening Primary Care and Other Workforce Improvements + +Sec. 5501. Expanding access to primary care services and general surgery + services. +Sec. 5502. Medicare Federally qualified health center improvements. +Sec. 5503. Distribution of additional residency positions. +Sec. 5504. Counting resident time in nonprovider settings. +Sec. 5505. Rules for counting resident time for didactic and scholarly + activities and other activities. +Sec. 5506. Preservation of resident cap positions from closed hospitals. +Sec. 5507. Demonstration projects To address health professions + workforce needs; extension of family-to-family health + information centers. +Sec. 5508. Increasing teaching capacity. +Sec. 5509. Graduate nurse education demonstration. + + Subtitle G--Improving Access to Health Care Services + +Sec. 5601. Spending for Federally Qualified Health Centers (FQHCs). +Sec. 5602. Negotiated rulemaking for development of methodology and + criteria for designating medically underserved populations + and health professions shortage areas. +Sec. 5603. Reauthorization of the Wakefield Emergency Medical Services + for Children Program. +Sec. 5604. Co-locating primary and specialty care in community-based + mental health settings. +Sec. 5605. Key National indicators. + + Subtitle H--General Provisions + +Sec. 5701. Reports. + + TITLE VI--TRANSPARENCY AND PROGRAM INTEGRITY + + Subtitle A--Physician Ownership and Other Transparency + +Sec. 6001. Limitation on Medicare exception to the prohibition on + certain physician referrals for hospitals. +Sec. 6002. Transparency reports and reporting of physician ownership or + investment interests. +Sec. 6003. Disclosure requirements for in-office ancillary services + exception to the prohibition on physician self-referral for + certain imaging services. +Sec. 6004. Prescription drug sample transparency. +Sec. 6005. Pharmacy benefit managers transparency requirements. + + Subtitle B--Nursing Home Transparency and Improvement + + PART I--Improving Transparency of Information + +Sec. 6101. Required disclosure of ownership and additional disclosable + parties information. +Sec. 6102. Accountability requirements for skilled nursing facilities + and nursing facilities. +Sec. 6103. Nursing home compare Medicare website. +Sec. 6104. Reporting of expenditures. +Sec. 6105. Standardized complaint form. +Sec. 6106. Ensuring staffing accountability. +Sec. 6107. GAO study and report on Five-Star Quality Rating System. + + PART II--Targeting Enforcement + +Sec. 6111. Civil money penalties. +Sec. 6112. National independent monitor demonstration project. +Sec. 6113. Notification of facility closure. +Sec. 6114. National demonstration projects on culture change and use of + information technology in nursing homes. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 127]] + + PART III--Improving Staff Training + +Sec. 6121. Dementia and abuse prevention training. + +Subtitle C--Nationwide Program for National and State Background Checks + on Direct Patient Access Employees of Long-term Care Facilities and + Providers + +Sec. 6201. Nationwide program for National and State background checks + on direct patient access employees of long-term care + facilities and providers. + + Subtitle D--Patient-Centered Outcomes Research + +Sec. 6301. Patient-Centered Outcomes Research. +Sec. 6302. Federal coordinating council for comparative effectiveness + research. + + Subtitle E--Medicare, Medicaid, and CHIP Program Integrity Provisions + +Sec. 6401. Provider screening and other enrollment requirements under + Medicare, Medicaid, and CHIP. +Sec. 6402. Enhanced Medicare and Medicaid program integrity provisions. +Sec. 6403. Elimination of duplication between the Healthcare Integrity + and Protection Data Bank and the National Practitioner Data + Bank. +Sec. 6404. Maximum period for submission of Medicare claims reduced to + not more than 12 months. +Sec. 6405. Physicians who order items or services required to be + Medicare enrolled physicians or eligible professionals. +Sec. 6406. Requirement for physicians to provide documentation on + referrals to programs at high risk of waste and abuse. +Sec. 6407. Face to face encounter with patient required before + physicians may certify eligibility for home health services + or durable medical equipment under Medicare. +Sec. 6408. Enhanced penalties. +Sec. 6409. Medicare self-referral disclosure protocol. +Sec. 6410. Adjustments to the Medicare durable medical equipment, + prosthetics, orthotics, and supplies competitive acquisition + program. +Sec. 6411. Expansion of the Recovery Audit Contractor (RAC) program. + + Subtitle F--Additional Medicaid Program Integrity Provisions + +Sec. 6501. Termination of provider participation under Medicaid if + terminated under Medicare or other State plan. +Sec. 6502. Medicaid exclusion from participation relating to certain + ownership, control, and management affiliations. +Sec. 6503. Billing agents, clearinghouses, or other alternate payees + required to register under Medicaid. +Sec. 6504. Requirement to report expanded set of data elements under + MMIS to detect fraud and abuse. +Sec. 6505. Prohibition on payments to institutions or entities located + outside of the United States. +Sec. 6506. Overpayments. +Sec. 6507. Mandatory State use of national correct coding initiative. +Sec. 6508. General effective date. + + Subtitle G--Additional Program Integrity Provisions + +Sec. 6601. Prohibition on false statements and representations. +Sec. 6602. Clarifying definition. +Sec. 6603. Development of model uniform report form. +Sec. 6604. Applicability of State law to combat fraud and abuse. +Sec. 6605. Enabling the Department of Labor to issue administrative + summary cease and desist orders and summary seizures orders + against plans that are in financially hazardous condition. +Sec. 6606. MEWA plan registration with Department of Labor. +Sec. 6607. Permitting evidentiary privilege and confidential + communications. + + Subtitle H--Elder Justice Act + +Sec. 6701. Short title of subtitle. +Sec. 6702. Definitions. +Sec. 6703. Elder Justice. + + Subtitle I--Sense of the Senate Regarding Medical Malpractice + +Sec. 6801. Sense of the Senate regarding medical malpractice. + + TITLE VII--IMPROVING ACCESS TO INNOVATIVE MEDICAL THERAPIES + + Subtitle A--Biologics Price Competition and Innovation + +Sec. 7001. Short title. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 128]] + +Sec. 7002. Approval pathway for biosimilar biological products. +Sec. 7003. Savings. + + Subtitle B--More Affordable Medicines for Children and Underserved + Communities + +Sec. 7101. Expanded participation in 340B program. +Sec. 7102. Improvements to 340B program integrity. +Sec. 7103. GAO study to make recommendations on improving the 340B + program. + + TITLE VIII--CLASS ACT + +Sec. 8001. Short title of title. +Sec. 8002. Establishment of national voluntary insurance program for + purchasing community living assistance services and support. + + TITLE IX--REVENUE PROVISIONS + + Subtitle A--Revenue Offset Provisions + +Sec. 9001. Excise tax on high cost employer-sponsored health coverage. +Sec. 9002. Inclusion of cost of employer-sponsored health coverage on W- + 2. +Sec. 9003. Distributions for medicine qualified only if for prescribed + drug or insulin. +Sec. 9004. Increase in additional tax on distributions from HSAs and + Archer MSAs not used for qualified medical expenses. +Sec. 9005. Limitation on health flexible spending arrangements under + cafeteria plans. +Sec. 9006. Expansion of information reporting requirements. +Sec. 9007. Additional requirements for charitable hospitals. +Sec. 9008. Imposition of annual fee on branded prescription + pharmaceutical manufacturers and importers. +Sec. 9009. Imposition of annual fee on medical device manufacturers and + importers. +Sec. 9010. Imposition of annual fee on health insurance providers. +Sec. 9011. Study and report of effect on veterans health care. +Sec. 9012. Elimination of deduction for expenses allocable to Medicare + Part D subsidy. +Sec. 9013. Modification of itemized deduction for medical expenses. +Sec. 9014. Limitation on excessive remuneration paid by certain health + insurance providers. +Sec. 9015. Additional hospital insurance tax on high-income taxpayers. +Sec. 9016. Modification of section 833 treatment of certain health + organizations. +Sec. 9017. Excise tax on elective cosmetic medical procedures. + + Subtitle B--Other Provisions + +Sec. 9021. Exclusion of health benefits provided by Indian tribal + governments. +Sec. 9022. Establishment of simple cafeteria plans for small businesses. +Sec. 9023. Qualifying therapeutic discovery project credit. + +TITLE X--STRENGTHENING QUALITY, AFFORDABLE HEALTH CARE FOR ALL AMERICANS + + Subtitle A--Provisions Relating to Title I + +Sec. 10101. Amendments to subtitle A. +Sec. 10102. Amendments to subtitle B. +Sec. 10103. Amendments to subtitle C. +Sec. 10104. Amendments to subtitle D. +Sec. 10105. Amendments to subtitle E. +Sec. 10106. Amendments to subtitle F. +Sec. 10107. Amendments to subtitle G. +Sec. 10108. Free choice vouchers. +Sec. 10109. Development of standards for financial and administrative + transactions. + + Subtitle B--Provisions Relating to Title II + + PART I--Medicaid and CHIP + +Sec. 10201. Amendments to the Social Security Act and title II of this + Act. +Sec. 10202. Incentives for States to offer home and community-based + services as a long-term care alternative to nursing homes. +Sec. 10203. Extension of funding for CHIP through fiscal year 2015 and + other CHIP-related provisions. + + PART II--Support for Pregnant and Parenting Teens and Women + +Sec. 10211. Definitions. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 129]] + +Sec. 10212. Establishment of pregnancy assistance fund. +Sec. 10213. Permissible uses of Fund. +Sec. 10214. Appropriations. + + PART III--Indian Health Care Improvement + +Sec. 10221. Indian health care improvement. + + Subtitle C--Provisions Relating to Title III + +Sec. 10301. Plans for a Value-Based purchasing program for ambulatory + surgical centers. +Sec. 10302. Revision to national strategy for quality improvement in + health care. +Sec. 10303. Development of outcome measures. +Sec. 10304. Selection of efficiency measures. +Sec. 10305. Data collection; public reporting. +Sec. 10306. Improvements under the Center for Medicare and Medicaid + Innovation. +Sec. 10307. Improvements to the Medicare shared savings program. +Sec. 10308. Revisions to national pilot program on payment bundling. +Sec. 10309. Revisions to hospital readmissions reduction program. +Sec. 10310. Repeal of physician payment update. +Sec. 10311. Revisions to extension of ambulance add-ons. +Sec. 10312. Certain payment rules for long-term care hospital services + and moratorium on the establishment of certain hospitals and + facilities. +Sec. 10313. Revisions to the extension for the rural community hospital + demonstration program. +Sec. 10314. Adjustment to low-volume hospital provision. +Sec. 10315. Revisions to home health care provisions. +Sec. 10316. Medicare DSH. +Sec. 10317. Revisions to extension of section 508 hospital provisions. +Sec. 10318. Revisions to transitional extra benefits under Medicare + Advantage. +Sec. 10319. Revisions to market basket adjustments. +Sec. 10320. Expansion of the scope of, and additional improvements to, + the Independent Medicare Advisory Board. +Sec. 10321. Revision to community health teams. +Sec. 10322. Quality reporting for psychiatric hospitals. +Sec. 10323. Medicare coverage for individuals exposed to environmental + health hazards. +Sec. 10324. Protections for frontier States. +Sec. 10325. Revision to skilled nursing facility prospective payment + system. +Sec. 10326. Pilot testing pay-for-performance programs for certain + Medicare providers. +Sec. 10327. Improvements to the physician quality reporting system. +Sec. 10328. Improvement in part D medication therapy management (MTM) + programs. +Sec. 10329. Developing methodology to assess health plan value. +Sec. 10330. Modernizing computer and data systems of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid services to support improvements in care + delivery. +Sec. 10331. Public reporting of performance information. +Sec. 10332. Availability of medicare data for performance measurement. +Sec. 10333. Community-based collaborative care networks. +Sec. 10334. Minority health. +Sec. 10335. Technical correction to the hospital value-based purchasing + program. +Sec. 10336. GAO study and report on Medicare beneficiary access to high- + quality dialysis services. + + Subtitle D--Provisions Relating to Title IV + +Sec. 10401. Amendments to subtitle A. +Sec. 10402. Amendments to subtitle B. +Sec. 10403. Amendments to subtitle C. +Sec. 10404. Amendments to subtitle D. +Sec. 10405. Amendments to subtitle E. +Sec. 10406. Amendment relating to waiving coinsurance for preventive + services. +Sec. 10407. Better diabetes care. +Sec. 10408. Grants for small businesses to provide comprehensive + workplace wellness programs. +Sec. 10409. Cures Acceleration Network. +Sec. 10410. Centers of Excellence for Depression. +Sec. 10411. Programs relating to congenital heart disease. +Sec. 10412. Automated Defibrillation in Adam's Memory Act. +Sec. 10413. Young women's breast health awareness and support of young + women diagnosed with breast cancer. + + Subtitle E--Provisions Relating to Title V + +Sec. 10501. Amendments to the Public Health Service Act, the Social + Security Act, and title V of this Act. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 130]] + +Sec. 10502. Infrastructure to Expand Access to Care. +Sec. 10503. Community Health Centers and the National Health Service + Corps Fund. +Sec. 10504. Demonstration project to provide access to affordable care. + + Subtitle F--Provisions Relating to Title VI + +Sec. 10601. Revisions to limitation on medicare exception to the + prohibition on certain physician referrals for hospitals. +Sec. 10602. Clarifications to patient-centered outcomes research. +Sec. 10603. Striking provisions relating to individual provider + application fees. +Sec. 10604. Technical correction to section 6405. +Sec. 10605. Certain other providers permitted to conduct face to face + encounter for home health services. +Sec. 10606. Health care fraud enforcement. +Sec. 10607. State demonstration programs to evaluate alternatives to + current medical tort litigation. +Sec. 10608. Extension of medical malpractice coverage to free clinics. +Sec. 10609. Labeling changes. + + Subtitle G--Provisions Relating to Title VIII + +Sec. 10801. Provisions relating to title VIII. + + Subtitle H--Provisions Relating to Title IX + +Sec. 10901. Modifications to excise tax on high cost employer-sponsored + health coverage. +Sec. 10902. Inflation adjustment of limitation on health flexible + spending arrangements under cafeteria plans. +Sec. 10903. Modification of limitation on charges by charitable + hospitals. +Sec. 10904. Modification of annual fee on medical device manufacturers + and importers. +Sec. 10905. Modification of annual fee on health insurance providers. +Sec. 10906. Modifications to additional hospital insurance tax on high- + income taxpayers. +Sec. 10907. Excise tax on indoor tanning services in lieu of elective + cosmetic medical procedures. +Sec. 10908. Exclusion for assistance provided to participants in State + student loan repayment programs for certain health + professionals. +Sec. 10909. Expansion of adoption credit and adoption assistance + programs. + + TITLE I--QUALITY, AFFORDABLE HEALTH CARE FOR ALL AMERICANS + + Subtitle A--Immediate Improvements in Health Care Coverage for All + Americans + +SEC. 1001. AMENDMENTS TO THE PUBLIC HEALTH SERVICE ACT. + + Part A of title XXVII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +300gg et seq.) is amended-- + (1) by striking the part heading and inserting the + following: + + ``PART A--INDIVIDUAL AND GROUP MARKET REFORMS''; + + (2) by redesignating sections 2704 through 2707 <> as sections 2725 + through 2728, respectively; + (3) by redesignating sections 2711 through 2713 <> as sections 2731 through + 2733, respectively; + (4) by redesignating sections 2721 through 2723 <> as sections 2735 through 2737, + respectively; and + (5) by inserting after section 2702, the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 131]] + + ``Subpart II--Improving Coverage + +``SEC. 2711. <> NO LIFETIME OR ANNUAL LIMITS. + + ``(a) In General.--A group health plan and a health insurance issuer +offering group or individual health insurance coverage may not +establish-- + ``(1) lifetime limits on the dollar value of benefits for + any participant or beneficiary; or + ``(2) unreasonable annual limits (within the meaning of + section 223 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986) on the dollar + value of benefits for any participant or beneficiary. + + ``(b) Per Beneficiary Limits.--Subsection (a) shall not be construed +to prevent a group health plan or health insurance coverage that is not +required to provide essential health benefits under section 1302(b) of +the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act from placing annual or +lifetime per beneficiary limits on specific covered benefits to the +extent that such limits are otherwise permitted under Federal or State +law. + +``SEC. 2712. <> PROHIBITION ON RESCISSIONS. + + ``A group health plan and a health insurance issuer offering group +or individual health insurance coverage shall not rescind such plan or +coverage with respect to an enrollee once the enrollee is covered under +such plan or coverage involved, except that this section shall not apply +to a covered individual who has performed an act or practice that +constitutes fraud or makes an intentional misrepresentation of material +fact as prohibited by the terms of the plan or coverage. Such plan or +coverage may not be cancelled except with prior notice to the enrollee, +and only as permitted under section 2702(c) or 2742(b). + +``SEC. 2713. <> COVERAGE OF PREVENTIVE HEALTH + SERVICES. + + ``(a) In General.--A group health plan and a health insurance issuer +offering group or individual health insurance coverage shall, at a +minimum provide coverage for and shall not impose any cost sharing +requirements for-- + ``(1) evidence-based items or services that have in effect a + rating of `A' or `B' in the current recommendations of the + United States Preventive Services Task Force; + ``(2) immunizations that have in effect a recommendation + from the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices of the + Centers for Disease Control and Prevention with respect to the + individual involved; and + ``(3) with respect to infants, children, and adolescents, + evidence-informed preventive care and screenings provided for in + the comprehensive guidelines supported by the Health Resources + and Services Administration. + ``(4) with respect to women, such additional preventive care + and screenings not described in paragraph (1) as provided for in + comprehensive guidelines supported by the Health Resources and + Services Administration for purposes of this paragraph. + ``(5) for the purposes of this Act, and for the purposes of + any other provision of law, the current recommendations of the + United States Preventive Service Task Force regarding breast + cancer screening, mammography, and prevention shall + +[[Page 124 STAT. 132]] + + be considered the most current other than those issued in or + around November 2009. + +Nothing in this subsection shall be construed to prohibit a plan or +issuer from providing coverage for services in addition to those +recommended by United States Preventive Services Task Force or to deny +coverage for services that are not recommended by such Task Force. + ``(b) Interval.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall establish a minimum + interval between the date on which a recommendation described in + subsection (a)(1) or (a)(2) or a guideline under subsection + (a)(3) is issued and the plan year with respect to which the + requirement described in subsection (a) is effective with + respect to the service described in such recommendation or + guideline. + ``(2) Minimum.--The interval described in paragraph (1) + shall not be less than 1 year. + + ``(c) Value-based Insurance Design.--The Secretary may develop +guidelines to permit a group health plan and a health insurance issuer +offering group or individual health insurance coverage to utilize value- +based insurance designs. + +``SEC. 2714. <> EXTENSION OF DEPENDENT COVERAGE. + + ``(a) In General.--A group health plan and a health insurance issuer +offering group or individual health insurance coverage that provides +dependent coverage of children shall continue to make such coverage +available for an adult child (who is not married) until the child turns +26 years of age. Nothing in this section shall require a health plan or +a health insurance issuer described in the preceding sentence to make +coverage available for a child of a child receiving dependent coverage. + ``(b) Regulations.--The Secretary shall promulgate regulations to +define the dependents to which coverage shall be made available under +subsection (a). + ``(c) Rule of Construction.--Nothing in this section shall be +construed to modify the definition of `dependent' as used in the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986 with respect to the tax treatment of the +cost of coverage. + +``SEC. 2715. <> DEVELOPMENT AND UTILIZATION OF + UNIFORM EXPLANATION OF COVERAGE DOCUMENTS AND STANDARDIZED + DEFINITIONS. + + ``(a) In <> General.--Not later than 12 months +after the date of enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable +Care Act, the Secretary shall develop standards for use by a group +health plan and a health insurance issuer offering group or individual +health insurance coverage, in compiling and providing to enrollees a +summary of benefits and coverage explanation that accurately describes +the benefits and coverage under the applicable plan or coverage. In +developing such standards, the Secretary shall consult with the National +Association of Insurance Commissioners (referred to in this section as +the `NAIC'), a working group composed of representatives of health +insurance-related consumer advocacy organizations, health insurance +issuers, health care professionals, patient advocates including those +representing individuals with limited English proficiency, and other +qualified individuals. + + ``(b) Requirements.--The standards for the summary of benefits and +coverage developed under subsection (a) shall provide for the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 133]] + + ``(1) Appearance.--The standards shall ensure that the + summary of benefits and coverage is presented in a uniform + format that does not exceed 4 pages in length and does not + include print smaller than 12-point font. + ``(2) Language.--The standards shall ensure that the summary + is presented in a culturally and linguistically appropriate + manner and utilizes terminology understandable by the average + plan enrollee. + ``(3) Contents.--The standards shall ensure that the summary + of benefits and coverage includes-- + ``(A) uniform definitions of standard insurance + terms and medical terms (consistent with subsection (g)) + so that consumers may compare health insurance coverage + and understand the terms of coverage (or exception to + such coverage); + ``(B) a description of the coverage, including cost + sharing for-- + ``(i) each of the categories of the essential + health benefits described in subparagraphs (A) + through (J) of section 1302(b)(1) of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act; and + ``(ii) other benefits, as identified by the + Secretary; + ``(C) the exceptions, reductions, and limitations on + coverage; + ``(D) the cost-sharing provisions, including + deductible, coinsurance, and co-payment obligations; + ``(E) the renewability and continuation of coverage + provisions; + ``(F) a coverage facts label that includes examples + to illustrate common benefits scenarios, including + pregnancy and serious or chronic medical conditions and + related cost sharing, such scenarios to be based on + recognized clinical practice guidelines; + ``(G) a statement of whether the plan or coverage-- + ``(i) provides minimum essential coverage (as + defined under section 5000A(f) of the Internal + Revenue Code 1986); and + ``(ii) ensures that the plan or coverage share + of the total allowed costs of benefits provided + under the plan or coverage is not less than 60 + percent of such costs; + ``(H) a statement that the outline is a summary of + the policy or certificate and that the coverage document + itself should be consulted to determine the governing + contractual provisions; and + ``(I) a contact number for the consumer to call with + additional questions and an Internet web address where a + copy of the actual individual coverage policy or group + certificate of coverage can be reviewed and obtained. + + ``(c) Periodic Review and Updating.--The Secretary shall +periodically review and update, as appropriate, the standards developed +under this section. + ``(d) Requirement To Provide.-- + ``(1) In general.--Not later <> than 24 + months after the date of enactment of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act, each entity described in paragraph (3) + shall provide, prior + +[[Page 124 STAT. 134]] + + to any enrollment restriction, a summary of benefits and + coverage explanation pursuant to the standards developed by + the Secretary under subsection (a) to-- + ``(A) an applicant at the time of application; + ``(B) an enrollee prior to the time of enrollment or + reenrollment, as applicable; and + ``(C) a policyholder or certificate holder at the + time of issuance of the policy or delivery of the + certificate. + ``(2) Compliance.--An entity described in paragraph (3) is + deemed to be in compliance with this section if the summary of + benefits and coverage described in subsection (a) is provided in + paper or electronic form. + ``(3) Entities in general.--An entity described in this + paragraph is-- + ``(A) a health insurance issuer (including a group + health plan that is not a self-insured plan) offering + health insurance coverage within the United States; or + ``(B) in the case of a self-insured group health + plan, the plan sponsor or designated administrator of + the plan (as such terms are defined in section 3(16) of + the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974). + ``(4) Notice <> of modifications.--If a + group health plan or health insurance issuer makes any material + modification in any of the terms of the plan or coverage + involved (as defined for purposes of section 102 of the Employee + Retirement Income Security Act of 1974) that is not reflected in + the most recently provided summary of benefits and coverage, the + plan or issuer shall provide notice of such modification to + enrollees not later than 60 days prior to the date on which such + modification will become effective. + + ``(e) Preemption.--The standards developed under subsection (a) +shall preempt any related State standards that require a summary of +benefits and coverage that provides less information to consumers than +that required to be provided under this section, as determined by the +Secretary. + ``(f) Failure To Provide.--An entity <> described in +subsection (d)(3) that willfully fails to provide the information +required under this section shall be subject to a fine of not more than +$1,000 for each such failure. Such failure with respect to each enrollee +shall constitute a separate offense for purposes of this subsection. + + ``(g) Development of Standard Definitions.-- + ``(1) In general.--The + Secretary <> shall, by regulation, provide + for the development of standards for the definitions of terms + used in health insurance coverage, including the insurance- + related terms described in paragraph (2) and the medical terms + described in paragraph (3). + ``(2) Insurance-related terms.--The insurance-related terms + described in this paragraph are premium, deductible, co- + insurance, co-payment, out-of-pocket limit, preferred provider, + non-preferred provider, out-of-network co-payments, UCR (usual, + customary and reasonable) fees, excluded services, grievance and + appeals, and such other terms as the Secretary determines are + important to define so that consumers may compare health + insurance coverage and understand the terms of their coverage. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 135]] + + ``(3) Medical terms.--The medical terms described in this + paragraph are hospitalization, hospital outpatient care, + emergency room care, physician services, prescription drug + coverage, durable medical equipment, home health care, skilled + nursing care, rehabilitation services, hospice services, + emergency medical transportation, and such other terms as the + Secretary determines are important to define so that consumers + may compare the medical benefits offered by health insurance and + understand the extent of those medical benefits (or exceptions + to those benefits). + +``SEC. 2716. <> PROHIBITION OF DISCRIMINATION + BASED ON SALARY. + + ``(a) In General.--The plan sponsor of a group health plan (other +than a self-insured plan) may not establish rules relating to the health +insurance coverage eligibility (including continued eligibility) of any +full-time employee under the terms of the plan that are based on the +total hourly or annual salary of the employee or otherwise establish +eligibility rules that have the effect of discriminating in favor of +higher wage employees. + ``(b) Limitation.--Subsection (a) shall not be construed to prohibit +a plan sponsor from establishing contribution requirements for +enrollment in the plan or coverage that provide for the payment by +employees with lower hourly or annual compensation of a lower dollar or +percentage contribution than the payment required of similarly situated +employees with a higher hourly or annual compensation. + +``SEC. 2717. <> ENSURING THE QUALITY OF CARE. + + ``(a) Quality Reporting.-- + ``(1) In general.--Not later than 2 years after the date of + enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, the + Secretary, in consultation with experts in health care quality + and stakeholders, shall develop reporting requirements for use + by a group health plan, and a health insurance issuer offering + group or individual health insurance coverage, with respect to + plan or coverage benefits and health care provider reimbursement + structures that-- + ``(A) improve health outcomes through the + implementation of activities such as quality reporting, + effective case management, care coordination, chronic + disease management, and medication and care compliance + initiatives, including through the use of the medical + homes model as defined for purposes of section 3602 of + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, for + treatment or services under the plan or coverage; + ``(B) implement activities to prevent hospital + readmissions through a comprehensive program for + hospital discharge that includes patient-centered + education and counseling, comprehensive discharge + planning, and post discharge reinforcement by an + appropriate health care professional; + ``(C) implement activities to improve patient safety + and reduce medical errors through the appropriate use of + best clinical practices, evidence based medicine, and + health information technology under the plan or + coverage; and + ``(D) implement wellness and health promotion + activities. + ``(2) Reporting requirements.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 136]] + + ``(A) In general.--A group health plan and a health + insurance issuer offering group or individual health + insurance coverage shall annually submit to the + Secretary, and to enrollees under the plan or coverage, + a report on whether the benefits under the plan or + coverage satisfy the elements described in subparagraphs + (A) through (D) of paragraph (1). + ``(B) Timing of reports.--A report under + subparagraph (A) shall be made available to an enrollee + under the plan or coverage during each open enrollment + period. + ``(C) Availability of reports.--The Secretary shall + make reports submitted under subparagraph (A) available + to the public through an Internet website. + ``(D) Penalties.--In developing the reporting + requirements under paragraph (1), the Secretary may + develop and impose appropriate penalties for non- + compliance with such requirements. + ``(E) Exceptions.--In developing the reporting + requirements under paragraph (1), the Secretary may + provide for exceptions to such requirements for group + health plans and health insurance issuers that + substantially meet the goals of this section. + + ``(b) Wellness and Prevention Programs.--For purposes of subsection +(a)(1)(D), wellness and health promotion activities may include +personalized wellness and prevention services, which are coordinated, +maintained or delivered by a health care provider, a wellness and +prevention plan manager, or a health, wellness or prevention services +organization that conducts health risk assessments or offers ongoing +face-to-face, telephonic or web-based intervention efforts for each of +the program's participants, and which may include the following wellness +and prevention efforts: + ``(1) Smoking cessation. + ``(2) Weight management. + ``(3) Stress management. + ``(4) Physical fitness. + ``(5) Nutrition. + ``(6) Heart disease prevention. + ``(7) Healthy lifestyle support. + ``(8) Diabetes prevention. + + ``(c) Regulations.--Not <> later than 2 years after +the date of enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, +the Secretary shall promulgate regulations that provide criteria for +determining whether a reimbursement structure is described in subsection +(a). + + ``(d) Study and Report.--Not later than 180 days after the date on +which regulations are promulgated under subsection (c), the Government +Accountability Office shall review such regulations and conduct a study +and submit to the Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions of +the Senate and the Committee on Energy and Commerce of the House of +Representatives a report regarding the impact the activities under this +section have had on the quality and cost of health care. + +``SEC. 2718. BRINGING <> DOWN THE COST OF HEALTH + CARE COVERAGE. + + ``(a) Clear <> Accounting for Costs.--A health +insurance issuer offering group or individual health insurance coverage +shall, with + +[[Page 124 STAT. 137]] + +respect to each plan year, submit to the Secretary a report concerning +the percentage of total premium revenue that such coverage expends-- + ``(1) on reimbursement for clinical services provided to + enrollees under such coverage; + ``(2) for activities that improve health care quality; and + ``(3) on all other non-claims costs, including an + explanation of the nature of such costs, and excluding State + taxes and licensing or regulatory fees. + +The <> Secretary shall make +reports received under this section available to the public on the +Internet website of the Department of Health and Human Services. + + ``(b) Ensuring That Consumers Receive Value for Their Premium +Payments.-- + ``(1) Requirement to provide value for premium payments.--A + health insurance issuer offering group or individual health + insurance coverage shall, with respect to each plan year, + provide an annual rebate to each enrollee under such coverage, + on a pro rata basis, in an amount that is equal to the amount by + which premium revenue expended by the issuer on activities + described in subsection (a)(3) exceeds-- + ``(A) with respect to a health insurance issuer + offering coverage in the group market, 20 percent, or + such lower percentage as a State may by regulation + determine; or + ``(B) with respect to a health insurance issuer + offering coverage in the individual market, 25 percent, + or such lower percentage as a State may by regulation + determine, except that such percentage shall be adjusted + to the extent the Secretary determines that the + application of such percentage with a State may + destabilize the existing individual market in such + State. + ``(2) Consideration in setting percentages.--In determining + the percentages under paragraph (1), a State shall seek to + ensure adequate participation by health insurance issuers, + competition in the health insurance market in the State, and + value for consumers so that premiums are used for clinical + services and quality improvements. + ``(3) Termination.--The provisions of this subsection shall + have no force or effect after December 31, 2013. + + ``(c) Standard Hospital Charges.--Each hospital operating within the +United States shall for each year establish (and update) and make public +(in accordance with guidelines developed by the Secretary) a list of the +hospital's standard charges for items and services provided by the +hospital, including for diagnosis-related groups established under +section 1886(d)(4) of the Social Security Act. + ``(d) Definitions.--The Secretary, in consultation with the National +Association of Insurance Commissions, shall establish uniform +definitions for the activities reported under subsection (a). + +``SEC. 2719. <> APPEALS PROCESS. + + ``A group health plan and a health insurance issuer offering group +or individual health insurance coverage shall implement an effective +appeals process for appeals of coverage determinations and claims, under +which the plan or issuer shall, at a minimum-- + ``(1) have in effect an internal claims appeal process; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 138]] + + ``(2) provide <> notice to enrollees, + in a culturally and linguistically appropriate manner, of + available internal and external appeals processes, and the + availability of any applicable office of health insurance + consumer assistance or ombudsman established under section 2793 + to assist such enrollees with the appeals processes; + ``(3) allow an enrollee to review their file, to present + evidence and testimony as part of the appeals process, and to + receive continued coverage pending the outcome of the appeals + process; and + ``(4) provide an external review process for such plans and + issuers that, at a minimum, includes the consumer protections + set forth in the Uniform External Review Model Act promulgated + by the National Association of Insurance Commissioners and is + binding on such plans.''. + +SEC. 1002. HEALTH INSURANCE CONSUMER INFORMATION. + + Part C of title XXVII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +300gg-91 et seq.) is amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 2793. <> HEALTH INSURANCE CONSUMER + INFORMATION. + + ``(a) In <> General.--The Secretary shall award +grants to States to enable such States (or the Exchanges operating in +such States) to establish, expand, or provide support for-- + ``(1) offices of health insurance consumer assistance; or + ``(2) health insurance ombudsman programs. + + ``(b) Eligibility.-- + ``(1) In general.--To be eligible to receive a grant, a + State shall designate an independent office of health insurance + consumer assistance, or an ombudsman, that, directly or in + coordination with State health insurance regulators and consumer + assistance organizations, receives and responds to inquiries and + complaints concerning health insurance coverage with respect to + Federal health insurance requirements and under State law. + ``(2) Criteria.--A State that receives a grant under this + section shall comply with criteria established by the Secretary + for carrying out activities under such grant. + + ``(c) Duties.--The office of health insurance consumer assistance or +health insurance ombudsman shall-- + ``(1) assist with the filing of complaints and appeals, + including filing appeals with the internal appeal or grievance + process of the group health plan or health insurance issuer + involved and providing information about the external appeal + process; + ``(2) collect, track, and quantify problems and inquiries + encountered by consumers; + ``(3) educate consumers on their rights and responsibilities + with respect to group health plans and health insurance + coverage; + ``(4) assist consumers with enrollment in a group health + plan or health insurance coverage by providing information, + referral, and assistance; and + ``(5) resolve problems with obtaining premium tax credits + under section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 139]] + + ``(d) Data Collection.--As a condition of receiving a grant under +subsection (a), an office of health insurance consumer assistance or +ombudsman program shall be required to collect and report data to the +Secretary on the types of problems and inquiries encountered by +consumers. The Secretary shall utilize such data to identify areas where +more enforcement action is necessary and shall share such information +with State insurance regulators, the Secretary of Labor, and the +Secretary of the Treasury for use in the enforcement activities of such +agencies. + ``(e) Funding.-- + ``(1) Initial funding.--There is hereby appropriated to the + Secretary, out of any funds in the Treasury not otherwise + appropriated, $30,000,000 for the first fiscal year for which + this section applies to carry out this section. Such amount + shall remain available without fiscal year limitation. + ``(2) Authorization for subsequent years.--There is + authorized to be appropriated to the Secretary for each fiscal + year following the fiscal year described in paragraph (1), such + sums as may be necessary to carry out this section.''. + +SEC. 1003. ENSURING THAT CONSUMERS GET VALUE FOR THEIR DOLLARS. + + Part C of title XXVII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +300gg-91 et seq.), as amended by section 1002, is further amended by +adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 2794. <> ENSURING THAT CONSUMERS GET + VALUE FOR THEIR DOLLARS. + + ``(a) Initial Premium Review Process.-- + ``(1) In <> general.--The Secretary, + in conjunction with States, shall establish a process for the + annual review, beginning with the 2010 plan year and subject to + subsection (b)(2)(A), of unreasonable increases in premiums for + health insurance coverage. + ``(2) Justification and disclosure.--The process established + under paragraph (1) shall require health insurance issuers to + submit to the Secretary and the relevant State a justification + for an unreasonable premium increase prior to the implementation + of the <> increase. Such issuers shall + prominently post such information on their Internet websites. + The Secretary shall ensure the public disclosure of information + on such increases and justifications for all health insurance + issuers. + + ``(b) Continuing Premium Review Process.-- + ``(1) Informing secretary of premium increase patterns.--As + a condition of receiving a grant under subsection (c)(1), a + State, through its Commissioner of Insurance, shall-- + ``(A) provide the Secretary with information about + trends in premium increases in health insurance coverage + in premium rating areas in the State; and + ``(B) make recommendations, as appropriate, to the + State Exchange about whether particular health insurance + issuers should be excluded from participation in the + Exchange based on a pattern or practice of excessive or + unjustified premium increases. + ``(2) Monitoring by secretary of premium increases.-- + ``(A) In general.--Beginning <> with plan years beginning in 2014, the + Secretary, in conjunction with the States + +[[Page 124 STAT. 140]] + + and consistent with the provisions of subsection (a)(2), + shall monitor premium increases of health insurance + coverage offered through an Exchange and outside of an + Exchange. + ``(B) Consideration in opening exchange.--In + determining under section 1312(f)(2)(B) of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act whether to offer + qualified health plans in the large group market through + an Exchange, the State shall take into account any + excess of premium growth outside of the Exchange as + compared to the rate of such growth inside the Exchange. + + ``(c) Grants in Support of Process.-- + ``(1) Premium review grants during 2010 through 2014.--The + Secretary shall carry out a program to award grants to States + during the 5-year period beginning with fiscal year 2010 to + assist such States in carrying out subsection (a), including-- + ``(A) in reviewing and, if appropriate under State + law, approving premium increases for health insurance + coverage; and + ``(B) in providing information and recommendations + to the Secretary under subsection (b)(1). + ``(2) Funding.-- + ``(A) In general.--Out of all funds in the Treasury + not otherwise appropriated, there are appropriated to + the Secretary $250,000,000, to be available for + expenditure for grants under paragraph (1) and + subparagraph (B). + ``(B) Further availability for insurance reform and + consumer protection.--If the amounts appropriated under + subparagraph (A) are not fully obligated under grants + under paragraph (1) by the end of fiscal year 2014, any + remaining funds shall remain available to the Secretary + for grants to States for planning and implementing the + insurance reforms and consumer protections under part A. + ``(C) Allocation.--The Secretary shall establish a + formula for determining the amount of any grant to a + State under this subsection. Under such formula-- + ``(i) the Secretary shall consider the number + of plans of health insurance coverage offered in + each State and the population of the State; and + ``(ii) no State qualifying for a grant under + paragraph (1) shall receive less than $1,000,000, + or more than $5,000,000 for a grant year.''. + +SEC. 1004. <> EFFECTIVE DATES. + + (a) In General.--Except as provided for in subsection (b), this +subtitle (and the amendments made by this subtitle) shall become +effective for plan years beginning on or after the date that is 6 months +after the date of enactment of this Act, except that the amendments made +by sections 1002 and 1003 shall become effective for fiscal years +beginning with fiscal year 2010. + (b) Special Rule.--The amendments made by sections 1002 and 1003 +shall take effect on the date of enactment of this Act. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 141]] + + Subtitle B--Immediate Actions to Preserve and Expand Coverage + +SEC. 1101. IMMEDIATE <> ACCESS TO INSURANCE FOR + UNINSURED INDIVIDUALS WITH A PREEXISTING CONDITION. + + (a) In General.--Not <> later than 90 +days after the date of enactment of this Act, the Secretary shall +establish a temporary high risk health insurance pool program to provide +health insurance coverage for eligible individuals during the period +beginning on the date on which such program is established and ending on +January 1, 2014. + + (b) Administration.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary may carry out the program + under this section directly or through contracts to eligible + entities. + (2) Eligible entities.--To be eligible for a contract under + paragraph (1), an entity shall-- + (A) be a State or nonprofit private entity; + (B) submit to the Secretary an application at such + time, in such manner, and containing such information as + the Secretary may require; and + (C) agree to utilize contract funding to establish + and administer a qualified high risk pool for eligible + individuals. + (3) Maintenance of effort.--To be eligible to enter into a + contract with the Secretary under this subsection, a State shall + agree not to reduce the annual amount the State expended for the + operation of one or more State high risk pools during the year + preceding the year in which such contract is entered into. + + (c) Qualified High Risk Pool.-- + (1) In general.--Amounts made available under this section + shall be used to establish a qualified high risk pool that meets + the requirements of paragraph (2). + (2) Requirements.--A qualified high risk pool meets the + requirements of this paragraph if such pool-- + (A) provides to all eligible individuals health + insurance coverage that does not impose any preexisting + condition exclusion with respect to such coverage; + (B) provides health insurance coverage-- + (i) in which the issuer's share of the total + allowed costs of benefits provided under such + coverage is not less than 65 percent of such + costs; and + (ii) that has an out of pocket limit not + greater than the applicable amount described in + section 223(c)(2) of the Internal Revenue Code of + 1986 for the year involved, except that the + Secretary may modify such limit if necessary to + ensure the pool meets the actuarial value limit + under clause (i); + (C) ensures that with respect to the premium rate + charged for health insurance coverage offered to + eligible individuals through the high risk pool, such + rate shall-- + (i) except as provided in clause (ii), vary + only as provided for under section 2701 of the + Public Health Service Act (as amended by this Act + and notwithstanding the date on which such + amendments take effect); + +[[Page 124 STAT. 142]] + + (ii) vary on the basis of age by a factor of + not greater than 4 to 1; and + (iii) be established at a standard rate for a + standard population; and + (D) meets any other requirements determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + + (d) Eligible Individual.--An individual shall be deemed to be an +eligible individual for purposes of this section if such individual-- + (1) is a citizen or national of the United States or is + lawfully present in the United States (as determined in + accordance with section 1411); + (2) has not been covered under creditable coverage (as + defined in section 2701(c)(1) of the Public Health Service Act + as in effect on the date of enactment of this Act) during the 6- + month period prior to the date on which such individual is + applying for coverage through the high risk pool; and + (3) has a pre-existing condition, as determined in a manner + consistent with guidance issued by the Secretary. + + (e) Protection Against Dumping Risk by Insurers.-- + (1) In general.--The <> Secretary shall + establish criteria for determining whether health insurance + issuers and employment-based health plans have discouraged an + individual from remaining enrolled in prior coverage based on + that individual's health status. + (2) Sanctions.--An issuer or employment-based health plan + shall be responsible for reimbursing the program under this + section for the medical expenses incurred by the program for an + individual who, based on criteria established by the Secretary, + the Secretary finds was encouraged by the issuer to disenroll + from health benefits coverage prior to enrolling in coverage + through the program. The criteria shall include at least the + following circumstances: + (A) In the case of prior coverage obtained through + an employer, the provision by the employer, group health + plan, or the issuer of money or other financial + consideration for disenrolling from the coverage. + (B) In the case of prior coverage obtained directly + from an issuer or under an employment-based health + plan-- + (i) the provision by the issuer or plan of + money or other financial consideration for + disenrolling from the coverage; or + (ii) in the case of an individual whose + premium for the prior coverage exceeded the + premium required by the program (adjusted based on + the age factors applied to the prior coverage)-- + (I) the prior coverage is a policy + that is no longer being actively + marketed (as defined by the Secretary) + by the issuer; or + (II) the prior coverage is a policy + for which duration of coverage form + issue or health status are factors that + can be considered in determining + premiums at renewal. + (3) Construction.--Nothing in this subsection shall be + construed as constituting exclusive remedies for violations of + criteria established under paragraph (1) or as preventing States + +[[Page 124 STAT. 143]] + + from applying or enforcing such paragraph or other provisions + under law with respect to health insurance issuers. + + (f) Oversight.--The Secretary shall establish-- + (1) an appeals process to enable individuals to appeal a + determination under this section; and + (2) procedures to protect against waste, fraud, and abuse. + + (g) Funding; Termination of Authority.-- + (1) In general.--There is appropriated to the Secretary, out + of any moneys in the Treasury not otherwise appropriated, + $5,000,000,000 to pay claims against (and the administrative + costs of) the high risk pool under this section that are in + excess of the amount of premiums collected from eligible + individuals enrolled in the high risk pool. Such funds shall be + available without fiscal year limitation. + (2) Insufficient funds.--If the Secretary estimates for any + fiscal year that the aggregate amounts available for the payment + of the expenses of the high risk pool will be less than the + actual amount of such expenses, the Secretary shall make such + adjustments as are necessary to eliminate such deficit. + (3) Termination of authority.-- + (A) In general.--Except as provided in subparagraph + (B), coverage of eligible individuals under a high risk + pool in a State shall terminate on January 1, 2014. + (B) Transition <> to exchange.-- + The Secretary shall develop procedures to provide for + the transition of eligible individuals enrolled in + health insurance coverage offered through a high risk + pool established under this section into qualified + health plans offered through an Exchange. Such + procedures shall ensure that there is no lapse in + coverage with respect to the individual and may extend + coverage after the termination of the risk pool + involved, if the Secretary determines necessary to avoid + such a lapse. + (4) Limitations.--The Secretary has the authority to stop + taking applications for participation in the program under this + section to comply with the funding limitation provided for in + paragraph (1). + (5) Relation to state laws.--The standards established under + this section shall supersede any State law or regulation (other + than State licensing laws or State laws relating to plan + solvency) with respect to qualified high risk pools which are + established in accordance with this section. + +SEC. 1102. <> REINSURANCE FOR EARLY RETIREES. + + (a) Administration.-- + (1) In general.--Not <> later + than 90 days after the date of enactment of this Act, the + Secretary shall establish a temporary reinsurance program to + provide reimbursement to participating employment-based plans + for a portion of the cost of providing health insurance coverage + to early retirees (and to the eligible spouses, surviving + spouses, and dependents of such retirees) during the period + beginning on the date on which such program is established and + ending on January 1, 2014. + (2) Reference.--In this section: + (A) Health benefits.--The term ``health benefits'' + means medical, surgical, hospital, prescription drug, + and such other benefits as shall be determined by the + Secretary, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 144]] + + whether self-funded, or delivered through the purchase + of insurance or otherwise. + (B) Employment-based plan.--The term ``employment- + based plan'' means a group health benefits plan that-- + (i) is-- + (I) maintained by one or more + current or former employers (including + without limitation any State or local + government or political subdivision + thereof), employee organization, a + voluntary employees' beneficiary + association, or a committee or board of + individuals appointed to administer such + plan; or + (II) a multiemployer plan (as + defined in section 3(37) of the Employee + Retirement Income Security Act of 1974); + and + (ii) provides health benefits to early + retirees. + (C) Early retirees.--The term ``early retirees'' + means individuals who are age 55 and older but are not + eligible for coverage under title XVIII of the Social + Security Act, and who are not active employees of an + employer maintaining, or currently contributing to, the + employment-based plan or of any employer that has made + substantial contributions to fund such plan. + + (b) Participation.-- + (1) Employment-based plan eligibility.--A participating + employment-based plan is an employment-based plan that-- + (A) meets the requirements of paragraph (2) with + respect to health benefits provided under the plan; and + (B) submits to the Secretary an application for + participation in the program, at such time, in such + manner, and containing such information as the Secretary + shall require. + (2) Employment-based health benefits.--An employment-based + plan meets the requirements of this paragraph if the plan-- + (A) implements programs and procedures to generate + cost-savings with respect to participants with chronic + and high-cost conditions; + (B) provides documentation of the actual cost of + medical claims involved; and + (C) is certified <> by the + Secretary. + + (c) Payments.-- + (1) Submission of claims.-- + (A) In general.--A participating employment-based + plan shall submit claims for reimbursement to the + Secretary which shall contain documentation of the + actual costs of the items and services for which each + claim is being submitted. + (B) Basis for claims.--Claims submitted under + subparagraph (A) shall be based on the actual amount + expended by the participating employment-based plan + involved within the plan year for the health benefits + provided to an early retiree or the spouse, surviving + spouse, or dependent of such retiree. In determining the + amount of a claim for purposes of this subsection, the + participating + +[[Page 124 STAT. 145]] + + employment-based plan shall take into account any + negotiated price concessions (such as discounts, direct + or indirect subsidies, rebates, and direct or indirect + remunerations) obtained by such plan with respect to + such health benefit. For purposes of determining the + amount of any such claim, the costs paid by the early + retiree or the retiree's spouse, surviving spouse, or + dependent in the form of deductibles, co-payments, or + co-insurance shall be included in the amounts paid by + the participating employment-based plan. + (2) Program payments.--If the Secretary determines that a + participating employment-based plan has submitted a valid claim + under paragraph (1), the Secretary shall reimburse such plan for + 80 percent of that portion of the costs attributable to such + claim that exceed $15,000, subject to the limits contained in + paragraph (3). + (3) Limit.--To be eligible for reimbursement under the + program, a claim submitted by a participating employment-based + plan shall not be less than $15,000 nor greater than $90,000. + Such amounts shall be adjusted each fiscal year based on the + percentage increase in the Medical Care Component of the + Consumer Price Index for all urban consumers (rounded to the + nearest multiple of $1,000) for the year involved. + (4) Use of payments.--Amounts paid to a participating + employment-based plan under this subsection shall be used to + lower costs for the plan. Such payments may be used to reduce + premium costs for an entity described in subsection (a)(2)(B)(i) + or to reduce premium contributions, co-payments, deductibles, + co-insurance, or other out-of-pocket costs for plan + participants. Such payments shall not be used as general + revenues for an entity described in subsection (a)(2)(B)(i). The + Secretary shall develop a mechanism to monitor the appropriate + use of such payments by such entities. + (5) Payments not treated as income.--Payments received under + this subsection shall not be included in determining the gross + income of an entity described in subsection (a)(2)(B)(i) that is + maintaining or currently contributing to a participating + employment-based plan. + (6) Appeals.--The Secretary shall establish-- + (A) an appeals process to permit participating + employment-based plans to appeal a determination of the + Secretary with respect to claims submitted under this + section; and + (B) procedures to protect against fraud, waste, and + abuse under the program. + + (d) Audits.--The Secretary shall conduct annual audits of claims +data submitted by participating employment-based plans under this +section to ensure that such plans are in compliance with the +requirements of this section. + (e) Funding.--There is appropriated to the Secretary, out of any +moneys in the Treasury not otherwise appropriated, $5,000,000,000 to +carry out the program under this section. Such funds shall be available +without fiscal year limitation. + (f) Limitation.--The Secretary has the authority to stop taking +applications for participation in the program based on the availability +of funding under subsection (e). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 146]] + +SEC. 1103. IMMEDIATE <> INFORMATION THAT + ALLOWS CONSUMERS TO IDENTIFY AFFORDABLE COVERAGE OPTIONS. + + (a) Internet Portal to Affordable Coverage Options.-- + (1) Immediate establishment.--Not later than July 1, 2010, + the Secretary, in consultation with the States, shall establish + a mechanism, including an Internet website, through which a + resident of any State may identify affordable health insurance + coverage options in that State. + (2) Connecting to affordable coverage.--An Internet website + established under paragraph (1) shall, to the extent + practicable, provide ways for residents of any State to receive + information on at least the following coverage options: + (A) Health insurance coverage offered by health + insurance issuers, other than coverage that provides + reimbursement only for the treatment or mitigation of-- + (i) a single disease or condition; or + (ii) an unreasonably limited set of diseases + or conditions (as determined by the Secretary); + (B) Medicaid coverage under title XIX of the Social + Security Act. + (C) Coverage under title XXI of the Social Security + Act. + (D) A State health benefits high risk pool, to the + extent that such high risk pool is offered in such + State; and + (E) Coverage under a high risk pool under section + 1101. + + (b) Enhancing Comparative Purchasing Options.-- + (1) In general.--Not later <> than 60 days after the date of enactment of this Act, + the Secretary shall develop a standardized format to be used for + the presentation of information relating to the coverage options + described in subsection (a)(2). Such format shall, at a minimum, + require the inclusion of information on the percentage of total + premium revenue expended on nonclinical costs (as reported under + section 2718(a) of the Public Health Service Act), eligibility, + availability, premium rates, and cost sharing with respect to + such coverage options and be consistent with the standards + adopted for the uniform explanation of coverage as provided for + in section 2715 of the Public Health Service Act. + (2) Use of format.--The Secretary shall utilize the format + developed under paragraph (1) in compiling information + concerning coverage options on the Internet website established + under subsection (a). + + (c) Authority To Contract.--The Secretary may carry out this section +through contracts entered into with qualified entities. + +SEC. 1104. ADMINISTRATIVE SIMPLIFICATION. + + (a) Purpose of Administrative Simplification.--Section 261 of the +Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996 (42 U.S.C. +1320d note) is amended-- + (1) by inserting ``uniform'' before ``standards''; and + (2) by inserting ``and to reduce the clerical burden on + patients, health care providers, and health plans'' before the + period at the end. + + (b) Operating Rules for Health Information Transactions.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 147]] + + (1) Definition of operating rules.--Section 1171 of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320d) is amended by adding at + the end the following: + ``(9) Operating rules.--The term `operating rules' means the + necessary business rules and guidelines for the electronic + exchange of information that are not defined by a standard or + its implementation specifications as adopted for purposes of + this part.''. + (2) Transaction standards; operating rules and compliance.-- + Section 1173 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320d-2) is + amended-- + (A) in subsection (a)(2), by adding at the end the + following new subparagraph: + ``(J) Electronic funds transfers.''; + (B) in subsection (a), by adding at the end the + following new paragraph: + ``(4) Requirements for financial and administrative + transactions.-- + ``(A) In general.--The standards and associated + operating rules adopted by the Secretary shall-- + ``(i) to the extent feasible and appropriate, + enable determination of an individual's + eligibility and financial responsibility for + specific services prior to or at the point of + care; + ``(ii) be comprehensive, requiring minimal + augmentation by paper or other communications; + ``(iii) provide for timely acknowledgment, + response, and status reporting that supports a + transparent claims and denial management process + (including adjudication and appeals); and + ``(iv) describe all data elements (including + reason and remark codes) in unambiguous terms, + require that such data elements be required or + conditioned upon set values in other fields, and + prohibit additional conditions (except where + necessary to implement State or Federal law, or to + protect against fraud and abuse). + ``(B) Reduction of clerical burden.--In adopting + standards and operating rules for the transactions + referred to under paragraph (1), the Secretary shall + seek to reduce the number and complexity of forms + (including paper and electronic forms) and data entry + required by patients and providers.''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + subsections: + + ``(g) Operating Rules.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall adopt a single set of + operating rules for each transaction referred to under + subsection (a)(1) with the goal of creating as much uniformity + in the implementation of the electronic standards as possible. + Such operating rules shall be consensus-based and reflect the + necessary business rules affecting health plans and health care + providers and the manner in which they operate pursuant to + standards issued under Health Insurance Portability and + Accountability Act of 1996. + ``(2) Operating rules development.--In adopting operating + rules under this subsection, the Secretary shall consider + recommendations for operating rules developed by a qualified + nonprofit entity that meets the following requirements: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 148]] + + ``(A) The entity focuses its mission on + administrative simplification. + ``(B) The entity demonstrates a multi-stakeholder + and consensus-based process for development of operating + rules, including representation by or participation from + health plans, health care providers, vendors, relevant + Federal agencies, and other standard development + organizations. + ``(C) The entity has a public set of guiding + principles that ensure the operating rules and process + are open and transparent, and supports nondiscrimination + and conflict of interest policies that demonstrate a + commitment to open, fair, and nondiscriminatory + practices. + ``(D) The entity builds on the transaction standards + issued under Health Insurance Portability and + Accountability Act of 1996. + ``(E) The entity allows for public review and + updates of the operating rules. + ``(3) Review and recommendations.--The National Committee on + Vital and Health Statistics shall-- + ``(A) advise the Secretary as to whether a nonprofit + entity meets the requirements under paragraph (2); + ``(B) review the operating rules developed and + recommended by such nonprofit entity; + ``(C) determine whether such operating rules + represent a consensus view of the health care + stakeholders and are consistent with and do not conflict + with other existing standards; + ``(D) evaluate whether such operating rules are + consistent with electronic standards adopted for health + information technology; and + ``(E) submit to the Secretary a recommendation as to + whether the Secretary should adopt such operating rules. + ``(4) Implementation.-- + ``(A) In general.-- + The <> Secretary shall adopt + operating rules under this subsection, by regulation in + accordance with subparagraph (C), following + consideration of the operating rules developed by the + non-profit entity described in paragraph (2) and the + recommendation submitted by the National Committee on + Vital and Health Statistics under paragraph (3)(E) and + having ensured consultation with providers. + ``(B) Adoption <> requirements; + effective dates.-- + ``(i) Eligibility for a health plan and health + claim status.--The set of operating rules for + eligibility for a health plan and health claim + status transactions shall be adopted not later + than July 1, 2011, in a manner ensuring that such + operating rules are effective not later than + January 1, 2013, and may allow for the use of a + machine readable identification card. + ``(ii) Electronic funds transfers and health + care payment and remittance advice.--The set of + operating rules for electronic funds transfers and + health care payment and remittance advice + transactions shall-- + ``(I) allow for automated + reconciliation of the electronic payment + with the remittance advice; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 149]] + + ``(II) be adopted not later than + July 1, 2012, in a manner ensuring that + such operating rules are effective not + later than January 1, 2014. + ``(iii) Health claims or equivalent encounter + information, enrollment and disenrollment in a + health plan, health plan premium payments, + referral certification and authorization.--The set + of operating rules for health claims or equivalent + encounter information, enrollment and + disenrollment in a health plan, health plan + premium payments, and referral certification and + authorization transactions shall be adopted not + later than July 1, 2014, in a manner ensuring that + such operating rules are effective not later than + January 1, 2016. + ``(C) Expedited rulemaking.--The Secretary shall + promulgate an interim final rule applying any standard + or operating rule recommended by the National Committee + on Vital and Health Statistics pursuant to paragraph + (3). The Secretary <> shall + accept and consider public comments on any interim final + rule published under this subparagraph for 60 days after + the date of such publication. + + ``(h) Compliance.-- + ``(1) Health <> plan certification.-- + ``(A) Eligibility for a health plan, health claim + status, electronic funds transfers, health care payment + and remittance advice.-- + Not <> later than December 31, + 2013, a health plan shall file a statement with the + Secretary, in such form as the Secretary may require, + certifying that the data and information systems for + such plan are in compliance with any applicable + standards (as described under paragraph (7) of section + 1171) and associated operating rules (as described under + paragraph (9) of such section) for electronic funds + transfers, eligibility for a health plan, health claim + status, and health care payment and remittance advice, + respectively. + ``(B) Health claims or equivalent encounter + information, enrollment and disenrollment in a health + plan, health plan premium payments, health claims + attachments, referral certification and authorization.-- + Not later than December 31, 2015, a health plan shall + file a statement with the Secretary, in such form as the + Secretary may require, certifying that the data and + information systems for such plan are in compliance with + any applicable standards and associated operating rules + for health claims or equivalent encounter information, + enrollment and disenrollment in a health plan, health + plan premium payments, health claims attachments, and + referral certification and authorization, respectively. + A health plan shall provide the same level of + documentation to certify compliance with such + transactions as is required to certify compliance with + the transactions specified in subparagraph (A). + ``(2) Documentation of compliance.--A health plan shall + provide the Secretary, in such form as the Secretary may + require, with adequate documentation of compliance with the + standards and operating rules described under paragraph (1). A + health plan shall not be considered to have provided adequate + +[[Page 124 STAT. 150]] + + documentation and shall not be certified as being in compliance + with such standards, unless the health plan-- + ``(A) demonstrates to the Secretary that the plan + conducts the electronic transactions specified in + paragraph (1) in a manner that fully complies with the + regulations of the Secretary; and + ``(B) provides documentation showing that the plan + has completed end-to-end testing for such transactions + with their partners, such as hospitals and physicians. + ``(3) Service contracts.--A health plan shall be required to + ensure that any entities that provide services pursuant to a + contract with such health plan shall comply with any applicable + certification and compliance requirements (and provide the + Secretary with adequate documentation of such compliance) under + this subsection. + ``(4) Certification by outside entity.--The Secretary may + designate independent, outside entities to certify that a health + plan has complied with the requirements under this subsection, + provided that the certification standards employed by such + entities are in accordance with any standards or operating rules + issued by the Secretary. + ``(5) Compliance with revised standards and operating + rules.-- + ``(A) In general.--A <> health + plan (including entities described under paragraph (3)) + shall file a statement with the Secretary, in such form + as the Secretary may require, certifying that the data + and information systems for such plan are in compliance + with any applicable revised standards and associated + operating rules under this subsection for any interim + final rule promulgated by the Secretary under subsection + (i) that-- + ``(i) amends any standard or operating rule + described under paragraph (1) of this subsection; + or + ``(ii) establishes a standard (as described + under subsection (a)(1)(B)) or associated + operating rules (as described under subsection + (i)(5)) for any other financial and administrative + transactions. + ``(B) Date of compliance.--A health plan shall + comply with such requirements not later than the + effective date of the applicable standard or operating + rule. + ``(6) Audits of health plans.--The Secretary shall conduct + periodic audits to ensure that health plans (including entities + described under paragraph (3)) are in compliance with any + standards and operating rules that are described under paragraph + (1) or subsection (i)(5). + + ``(i) Review <> and Amendment of Standards and +Operating Rules.-- + ``(1) Establishment.--Not later than January 1, 2014, the + Secretary shall establish a review committee (as described under + paragraph (4)). + ``(2) Evaluations and reports.-- + ``(A) Hearings.--Not later than April 1, 2014, and + not less than biennially thereafter, the Secretary, + acting through the review committee, shall conduct + hearings to evaluate and review the adopted standards + and operating rules established under this section. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 151]] + + ``(B) Report.--Not later than July 1, 2014, and not + less than biennially thereafter, the review committee + shall provide recommendations for updating and improving + such standards and operating rules. The review committee + shall recommend a single set of operating rules per + transaction standard and maintain the goal of creating + as much uniformity as possible in the implementation of + the electronic standards. + ``(3) Interim final rulemaking.-- + ``(A) In general.--Any recommendations to amend + adopted standards and operating rules that have been + approved by the review committee and reported to the + Secretary under paragraph (2)(B) shall be adopted by the + Secretary through promulgation of an interim final rule + not later than 90 days after receipt of the committee's + report. + ``(B) Public comment.-- + ``(i) Public comment period.--The Secretary + shall accept and consider public comments on any + interim final rule published under this paragraph + for 60 days after the date of such publication. + ``(ii) Effective date.--The effective date of + any amendment to existing standards or operating + rules that is adopted through an interim final + rule published under this paragraph shall be 25 + months following the close of such public comment + period. + ``(4) Review committee.-- + ``(A) Definition.--For the purposes of this + subsection, the term `review committee' means a + committee chartered by or within the Department of + Health and Human services that has been designated by + the Secretary to carry out this subsection, including-- + ``(i) the National Committee on Vital and + Health Statistics; or + ``(ii) any appropriate committee as determined + by the Secretary. + ``(B) Coordination of hit standards.--In developing + recommendations under this subsection, the review + committee shall ensure coordination, as appropriate, + with the standards that support the certified electronic + health record technology approved by the Office of the + National Coordinator for Health Information Technology. + ``(5) Operating rules for other standards adopted by the + secretary.--The Secretary shall adopt a single set of operating + rules (pursuant to the process described under subsection (g)) + for any transaction for which a standard had been adopted + pursuant to subsection (a)(1)(B). + + ``(j) Penalties.-- + ``(1) Penalty fee.-- + ``(A) In general.--Not <> later + than April 1, 2014, and annually thereafter, the + Secretary shall assess a penalty fee (as determined + under subparagraph (B)) against a health plan that has + failed to meet the requirements under subsection (h) + with respect to certification and documentation of + compliance with-- + ``(i) the standards and associated operating + rules described under paragraph (1) of such + subsection; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 152]] + + ``(ii) a standard (as described under + subsection (a)(1)(B)) and associated operating + rules (as described under subsection (i)(5)) for + any other financial and administrative + transactions. + ``(B) Fee amount.--Subject to subparagraphs (C), + (D), and (E), the Secretary shall assess a penalty fee + against a health plan in the amount of $1 per covered + life until certification is complete. The penalty shall + be assessed per person covered by the plan for which its + data systems for major medical policies are not in + compliance and shall be imposed against the health plan + for each day that the plan is not in compliance with the + requirements under subsection (h). + ``(C) Additional penalty for misrepresentation.--A + health plan that knowingly provides inaccurate or + incomplete information in a statement of certification + or documentation of compliance under subsection (h) + shall be subject to a penalty fee that is double the + amount that would otherwise be imposed under this + subsection. + ``(D) Annual fee increase.--The amount of the + penalty fee imposed under this subsection shall be + increased on an annual basis by the annual percentage + increase in total national health care expenditures, as + determined by the Secretary. + ``(E) Penalty limit.--A penalty fee assessed against + a health plan under this subsection shall not exceed, on + an annual basis-- + ``(i) an amount equal to $20 per covered life + under such plan; or + ``(ii) an amount equal to $40 per covered life + under the plan if such plan has knowingly provided + inaccurate or incomplete information (as described + under subparagraph (C)). + ``(F) Determination of covered individuals.--The + Secretary shall determine the number of covered lives + under a health plan based upon the most recent + statements and filings that have been submitted by such + plan to the Securities and Exchange Commission. + ``(2) Notice and dispute procedure.--The Secretary shall + establish a procedure for assessment of penalty fees under this + subsection that provides a health plan with reasonable notice + and a dispute resolution procedure prior to provision of a + notice of assessment by the Secretary of the Treasury (as + described under paragraph (4)(B)). + ``(3) Penalty fee report.--Not later than May 1, 2014, and + annually thereafter, the Secretary shall provide the Secretary + of the Treasury with a report identifying those health plans + that have been assessed a penalty fee under this subsection. + ``(4) Collection of penalty fee.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary of the Treasury, + acting through the Financial Management Service, shall + administer the collection of penalty fees from health + plans that have been identified by the Secretary in the + penalty fee report provided under paragraph (3). + ``(B) Notice.--Not <> later than + August 1, 2014, and annually thereafter, the Secretary + of the Treasury shall + +[[Page 124 STAT. 153]] + + provide notice to each health plan that has been + assessed a penalty fee by the Secretary under this + subsection. Such notice shall include the amount of the + penalty fee assessed by the Secretary and the due date + for payment of such fee to the Secretary of the Treasury + (as described in subparagraph (C)). + ``(C) Payment due date.--Payment by a health plan + for a penalty fee assessed under this subsection shall + be made to the Secretary of the Treasury not later than + November 1, 2014, and annually thereafter. + ``(D) Unpaid penalty fees.--Any amount of a penalty + fee assessed against a health plan under this subsection + for which payment has not been made by the due date + provided under subparagraph (C) shall be-- + ``(i) increased by the interest accrued on + such amount, as determined pursuant to the + underpayment rate established under section 6621 + of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986; and + ``(ii) treated as a past-due, legally + enforceable debt owed to a Federal agency for + purposes of section 6402(d) of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986. + ``(E) Administrative fees.--Any fee charged or + allocated for collection activities conducted by the + Financial Management Service will be passed on to a + health plan on a pro-rata basis and added to any penalty + fee collected from the plan.''. + + (c) Promulgation <> of Rules.-- + (1) Unique health plan identifier.--The Secretary shall + promulgate a final rule to establish a unique health plan + identifier (as described in section 1173(b) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320d-2(b))) based on the input of the + National Committee on Vital and Health <> Statistics. The Secretary may do so on an interim final + basis and such rule shall be effective not later than October 1, + 2012. + (2) Electronic funds transfer.--The Secretary shall + promulgate a final rule to establish a standard for electronic + funds transfers (as described in section 1173(a)(2)(J) of the + Social Security Act, as added by subsection + (b)(2)(A)). <> The Secretary + may do so on an interim final basis and shall adopt such + standard not later than January 1, 2012, in a manner ensuring + that such standard is effective not later than January 1, 2014. + (3) Health claims attachments.--The Secretary shall + promulgate a final rule to establish a transaction standard and + a single set of associated operating rules for health claims + attachments (as described in section 1173(a)(2)(B) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320d-2(a)(2)(B))) that is consistent + with the X12 Version 5010 + transaction <> standards. The + Secretary may do so on an interim final basis and shall adopt a + transaction standard and a single set of associated operating + rules not later than January 1, 2014, in a manner ensuring that + such standard is effective not later than January 1, 2016. + + (d) Expansion of Electronic Transactions in Medicare.--Section +1862(a) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395y(a)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (23), by striking the ``or'' at the end; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 154]] + + (2) in paragraph (24), by striking the period and inserting + ``; or''; and + (3) by inserting after paragraph (24) the following new + paragraph: + ``(25) not later than January 1, 2014, for which the payment + is other than by electronic funds transfer (EFT) or an + electronic remittance in a form as specified in ASC X12 835 + Health Care Payment and Remittance Advice or subsequent + standard.''. + +SEC. 1105. <> EFFECTIVE DATE. + + This subtitle shall take effect on the date of enactment of this +Act. + + Subtitle C--Quality Health Insurance Coverage for All Americans + + PART I--HEALTH INSURANCE MARKET REFORMS + +SEC. 1201. AMENDMENT TO THE PUBLIC HEALTH SERVICE ACT. + + Part A of title XXVII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +300gg et seq.), as amended by section 1001, is further amended-- + (1) by striking the heading for subpart 1 and inserting the + following: + + ``Subpart I--General Reform''; + + (2)(A) in section 2701 (42 U.S.C. 300gg), by striking the + section heading and subsection (a) and inserting the following: + +``SEC. 2704. PROHIBITION OF PREEXISTING CONDITION EXCLUSIONS OR OTHER + DISCRIMINATION BASED ON HEALTH STATUS. + + ``(a) In General.--A group health plan and a health insurance issuer +offering group or individual health insurance coverage may not impose +any preexisting condition exclusion with respect to such plan or +coverage.''; and + (B) by <> transferring such section + (as amended by subparagraph (A)) so as to appear after the + section 2703 added by paragraph (4); + (3)(A) in <> section 2702 + (42 U.S.C. 300gg-1)-- + (i) by striking the section heading and all that + follows through subsection (a); + (ii) in subsection (b)-- + (I) by striking ``health insurance issuer + offering health insurance coverage in connection + with a group health plan'' each place that such + appears and inserting ``health insurance issuer + offering group or individual health insurance + coverage''; and + (II) in paragraph (2)(A)-- + (aa) by inserting ``or individual'' + after ``employer''; and + (bb) by inserting ``or individual + health coverage, as the case may be'' + before the semicolon; and + (iii) in subsection (e)-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 155]] + + (I) by striking ``(a)(1)(F)'' and inserting + ``(a)(6)''; + (II) by striking ``2701'' and inserting + ``2704''; and + (III) by striking ``2721(a)'' and inserting + ``2735(a)''; and + (B) by transferring such section (as amended by + subparagraph (A)) to appear after section 2705(a) as + added by paragraph (4); and + (4) by inserting after the subpart heading (as added by + paragraph (1)) the following: + +``SEC. 2701. FAIR <> HEALTH INSURANCE PREMIUMS. + + ``(a) Prohibiting Discriminatory Premium Rates.-- + ``(1) In general.--With respect to the premium rate charged + by a health insurance issuer for health insurance coverage + offered in the individual or small group market-- + ``(A) such rate shall vary with respect to the + particular plan or coverage involved only by-- + ``(i) whether such plan or coverage covers an + individual or family; + ``(ii) rating area, as established in + accordance with paragraph (2); + ``(iii) age, except that such rate shall not + vary by more than 3 to 1 for adults (consistent + with section 2707(c)); and + ``(iv) tobacco use, except that such rate + shall not vary by more than 1.5 to 1; and + ``(B) such rate shall not vary with respect to the + particular plan or coverage involved by any other factor + not described in subparagraph (A). + ``(2) Rating area.-- + ``(A) In general.--Each State shall establish 1 or + more rating areas within that State for purposes of + applying the requirements of this title. + ``(B) Secretarial review.--The Secretary shall + review the rating areas established by each State under + subparagraph (A) to ensure the adequacy of such areas + for purposes of carrying out the requirements of this + title. If the Secretary determines a State's rating + areas are not adequate, or that a State does not + establish such areas, the Secretary may establish rating + areas for that State. + ``(3) Permissible <> age bands.--The + Secretary, in consultation with the National Association of + Insurance Commissioners, shall define the permissible age bands + for rating purposes under paragraph (1)(A)(iii). + ``(4) Application of variations based on age or tobacco + use.--With respect to family coverage under a group health plan + or health insurance coverage, the rating variations permitted + under clauses (iii) and (iv) of paragraph (1)(A) shall be + applied based on the portion of the premium that is attributable + to each family member covered under the plan or coverage. + ``(5) Special rule for large group market.--If a State + permits health insurance issuers that offer coverage in the + large group market in the State to offer such coverage through + the State Exchange (as provided for under section 1312(f)(2)(B) + +[[Page 124 STAT. 156]] + + of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act), the + provisions of this subsection shall apply to all coverage + offered in such market in the State. + +``SEC. 2702. GUARANTEED <> AVAILABILITY OF + COVERAGE. + + ``(a) Guaranteed Issuance of Coverage in the Individual and Group +Market.--Subject to subsections (b) through (e), each health insurance +issuer that offers health insurance coverage in the individual or group +market in a State must accept every employer and individual in the State +that applies for such coverage. + ``(b) Enrollment.-- + ``(1) Restriction.--A health insurance issuer described in + subsection (a) may restrict enrollment in coverage described in + such subsection to open or special enrollment periods. + ``(2) Establishment.--A health insurance issuer described in + subsection (a) shall, in accordance with the regulations + promulgated under paragraph (3), establish special enrollment + periods for qualifying events (under section 603 of the Employee + Retirement Income Security Act of 1974). + ``(3) Regulations.--The Secretary shall promulgate + regulations with respect to enrollment periods under paragraphs + (1) and (2). + +``SEC. 2703. GUARANTEED <> RENEWABILITY OF + COVERAGE. + + ``(a) In General.--Except as provided in this section, if a health +insurance issuer offers health insurance coverage in the individual or +group market, the issuer must renew or continue in force such coverage +at the option of the plan sponsor or the individual, as applicable. + +``SEC. 2705. PROHIBITING <> DISCRIMINATION + AGAINST INDIVIDUAL PARTICIPANTS AND BENEFICIARIES BASED ON + HEALTH STATUS. + + ``(a) In General.--A group health plan and a health insurance issuer +offering group or individual health insurance coverage may not establish +rules for eligibility (including continued eligibility) of any +individual to enroll under the terms of the plan or coverage based on +any of the following health status-related factors in relation to the +individual or a dependent of the individual: + ``(1) Health status. + ``(2) Medical condition (including both physical and mental + illnesses). + ``(3) Claims experience. + ``(4) Receipt of health care. + ``(5) Medical history. + ``(6) Genetic information. + ``(7) Evidence of insurability (including conditions arising + out of acts of domestic violence). + ``(8) Disability. + ``(9) Any other health status-related factor determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + + ``(j) Programs of Health Promotion or Disease Prevention.-- + ``(1) General provisions.-- + ``(A) General rule.--For purposes of subsection + (b)(2)(B), a program of health promotion or disease + prevention (referred to in this subsection as a + `wellness program') shall be a program offered by an + employer that is designed + +[[Page 124 STAT. 157]] + + to promote health or prevent disease that meets the + applicable requirements of this subsection. + ``(B) No conditions based on health status factor.-- + If none of the conditions for obtaining a premium + discount or rebate or other reward for participation in + a wellness program is based on an individual satisfying + a standard that is related to a health status factor, + such wellness program shall not violate this section if + participation in the program is made available to all + similarly situated individuals and the requirements of + paragraph (2) are complied with. + ``(C) Conditions based on health status factor.--If + any of the conditions for obtaining a premium discount + or rebate or other reward for participation in a + wellness program is based on an individual satisfying a + standard that is related to a health status factor, such + wellness program shall not violate this section if the + requirements of paragraph (3) are complied with. + ``(2) Wellness programs not subject to requirements.--If + none of the conditions for obtaining a premium discount or + rebate or other reward under a wellness program as described in + paragraph (1)(B) are based on an individual satisfying a + standard that is related to a health status factor (or if such a + wellness program does not provide such a reward), the wellness + program shall not violate this section if participation in the + program is made available to all similarly situated individuals. + The following programs shall not have to comply with the + requirements of paragraph (3) if participation in the program is + made available to all similarly situated individuals: + ``(A) A program that reimburses all or part of the + cost for memberships in a fitness center. + ``(B) A diagnostic testing program that provides a + reward for participation and does not base any part of + the reward on outcomes. + ``(C) A program that encourages preventive care + related to a health condition through the waiver of the + copayment or deductible requirement under group health + plan for the costs of certain items or services related + to a health condition (such as prenatal care or well- + baby visits). + ``(D) A program that reimburses individuals for the + costs of smoking cessation programs without regard to + whether the individual quits smoking. + ``(E) A program that provides a reward to + individuals for attending a periodic health education + seminar. + ``(3) Wellness programs subject to requirements.--If any of + the conditions for obtaining a premium discount, rebate, or + reward under a wellness program as described in paragraph (1)(C) + is based on an individual satisfying a standard that is related + to a health status factor, the wellness program shall not + violate this section if the following requirements are complied + with: + ``(A) The reward for the wellness program, together + with the reward for other wellness programs with respect + to the plan that requires satisfaction of a standard + related to a health status factor, shall not exceed 30 + percent of the cost of employee-only coverage under the + plan. If, in + +[[Page 124 STAT. 158]] + + addition to employees or individuals, any class of + dependents (such as spouses or spouses and dependent + children) may participate fully in the wellness program, + such reward shall not exceed 30 percent of the cost of + the coverage in which an employee or individual and any + dependents are enrolled. For purposes of this paragraph, + the cost of coverage shall be determined based on the + total amount of employer and employee contributions for + the benefit package under which the employee is (or the + employee and any dependents are) receiving coverage. A + reward may be in the form of a discount or rebate of a + premium or contribution, a waiver of all or part of a + cost-sharing mechanism (such as deductibles, copayments, + or coinsurance), the absence of a surcharge, or the + value of a benefit that would otherwise not be provided + under the plan. The Secretaries of Labor, Health and + Human Services, and the Treasury may increase the reward + available under this subparagraph to up to 50 percent of + the cost of coverage if the Secretaries determine that + such an increase is appropriate. + ``(B) The wellness program shall be reasonably + designed to promote health or prevent disease. A program + complies with the preceding sentence if the program has + a reasonable chance of improving the health of, or + preventing disease in, participating individuals and it + is not overly burdensome, is not a subterfuge for + discriminating based on a health status factor, and is + not highly suspect in the method chosen to promote + health or prevent disease. + ``(C) The plan shall give individuals eligible for + the program the opportunity to qualify for the reward + under the program at least once each year. + ``(D) The full reward under the wellness program + shall be made available to all similarly situated + individuals. For such purpose, among other things: + ``(i) The reward is not available to all + similarly situated individuals for a period unless + the wellness program allows-- + ``(I) for a reasonable alternative + standard (or waiver of the otherwise + applicable standard) for obtaining the + reward for any individual for whom, for + that period, it is unreasonably + difficult due to a medical condition to + satisfy the otherwise applicable + standard; and + ``(II) for a reasonable alternative + standard (or waiver of the otherwise + applicable standard) for obtaining the + reward for any individual for whom, for + that period, it is medically inadvisable + to attempt to satisfy the otherwise + applicable standard. + ``(ii) If reasonable under the circumstances, + the plan or issuer may seek verification, such as + a statement from an individual's physician, that a + health status factor makes it unreasonably + difficult or medically inadvisable for the + individual to satisfy or attempt to satisfy the + otherwise applicable standard. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 159]] + + ``(E) The plan or issuer involved shall disclose in + all plan materials describing the terms of the wellness + program the availability of a reasonable alternative + standard (or the possibility of waiver of the otherwise + applicable standard) required under subparagraph (D). If + plan materials disclose that such a program is + available, without describing its terms, the disclosure + under this subparagraph shall not be required. + + ``(k) Existing Programs.--Nothing in this section shall prohibit a +program of health promotion or disease prevention that was established +prior to the date of enactment of this section and applied with all +applicable regulations, and that is operating on such date, from +continuing to be carried out for as long as such regulations remain in +effect. + ``(l) Wellness Program Demonstration Project.-- + ``(1) In general.--Not <> later than July + 1, 2014, the Secretary, in consultation with the Secretary of + the Treasury and the Secretary of Labor, shall establish a 10- + State demonstration project under which participating States + shall apply the provisions of subsection (j) to programs of + health promotion offered by a health insurance issuer that + offers health insurance coverage in the individual market in + such State. + ``(2) Expansion of demonstration <> project.--If the Secretary, in consultation with the + Secretary of the Treasury and the Secretary of Labor, determines + that the demonstration project described in paragraph (1) is + effective, such Secretaries may, beginning on July 1, 2017 + expand such demonstration project to include additional + participating States. + ``(3) Requirements.-- + ``(A) Maintenance of coverage.--The Secretary, in + consultation with the Secretary of the Treasury and the + Secretary of Labor, shall not approve the participation + of a State in the demonstration project under this + section unless the Secretaries determine that the + State's project is designed in a manner that-- + ``(i) will not result in any decrease in + coverage; and + ``(ii) will not increase the cost to the + Federal Government in providing credits under + section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 + or cost-sharing assistance under section 1402 of + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act. + ``(B) Other requirements.--States that participate + in the demonstration project under this subsection-- + ``(i) may permit premium discounts or rebates + or the modification of otherwise applicable + copayments or deductibles for adherence to, or + participation in, a reasonably designed program of + health promotion and disease prevention; + ``(ii) shall ensure that requirements of + consumer protection are met in programs of health + promotion in the individual market; + ``(iii) shall require verification from health + insurance issuers that offer health insurance + coverage in the individual market of such State + that premium discounts-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 160]] + + ``(I) do not create undue burdens + for individuals insured in the + individual market; + ``(II) do not lead to cost shifting; + and + ``(III) are not a subterfuge for + discrimination; + ``(iv) shall ensure that consumer data is + protected in accordance with the requirements of + section 264(c) of the Health Insurance Portability + and Accountability Act of 1996 (42 U.S.C. 1320d-2 + note); and + ``(v) shall ensure and demonstrate to the + satisfaction of the Secretary that the discounts + or other rewards provided under the project + reflect the expected level of participation in the + wellness program involved and the anticipated + effect the program will have on utilization or + medical claim costs. + + ``(m) Report.-- + ``(1) In general.--Not later than 3 years after the date of + enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, the + Secretary, in consultation with the Secretary of the Treasury + and the Secretary of Labor, shall submit a report to the + appropriate committees of Congress concerning-- + ``(A) the effectiveness of wellness programs (as + defined in subsection (j)) in promoting health and + preventing disease; + ``(B) the impact of such wellness programs on the + access to care and affordability of coverage for + participants and non-participants of such programs; + ``(C) the impact of premium-based and cost-sharing + incentives on participant behavior and the role of such + programs in changing behavior; and + ``(D) the effectiveness of different types of + rewards. + ``(2) Data collection.--In preparing the report described in + paragraph (1), the Secretaries shall gather relevant information + from employers who provide employees with access to wellness + programs, including State and Federal agencies. + + ``(n) Regulations.--Nothing in this section shall be construed as +prohibiting the Secretaries of Labor, Health and Human Services, or the +Treasury from promulgating regulations in connection with this section. + +``SEC. 2706. NON-DISCRIMINATION <> IN HEALTH + CARE. + + ``(a) Providers.--A group health plan and a health insurance issuer +offering group or individual health insurance coverage shall not +discriminate with respect to participation under the plan or coverage +against any health care provider who is acting within the scope of that +provider's license or certification under applicable State law. This +section shall not require that a group health plan or health insurance +issuer contract with any health care provider willing to abide by the +terms and conditions for participation established by the plan or +issuer. Nothing in this section shall be construed as preventing a group +health plan, a health insurance issuer, or the Secretary from +establishing varying reimbursement rates based on quality or performance +measures. + ``(b) Individuals.--The <> provisions of +section 1558 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (relating +to non-discrimination) shall apply with respect to a group health plan +or health insurance issuer offering group or individual health insurance +coverage. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 161]] + +``SEC. 2707. COMPREHENSIVE <> HEALTH INSURANCE + COVERAGE. + + ``(a) Coverage for Essential Health Benefits Package.--A health +insurance issuer that offers health insurance coverage in the individual +or small group market shall ensure that such coverage includes the +essential health benefits package required under section 1302(a) of the +Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act. + ``(b) Cost-sharing Under Group Health Plans.--A group health plan +shall ensure that any annual cost-sharing imposed under the plan does +not exceed the limitations provided for under paragraphs (1) and (2) of +section 1302(c). + ``(c) Child-only Plans.--If a health insurance issuer offers health +insurance coverage in any level of coverage specified under section +1302(d) of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, the issuer +shall also offer such coverage in that level as a plan in which the only +enrollees are individuals who, as of the beginning of a plan year, have +not attained the age of 21. + ``(d) Dental Only.--This section shall not apply to a plan described +in section 1302(d)(2)(B)(ii)(I). + +``SEC. 2708. PROHIBITION <> ON EXCESSIVE WAITING + PERIODS. + + ``A group health plan and a health insurance issuer offering group +or individual health insurance coverage shall not apply any waiting +period (as defined in section 2704(b)(4)) that exceeds 90 days.''. + + PART II--OTHER PROVISIONS + +SEC. 1251. PRESERVATION <> OF RIGHT TO MAINTAIN + EXISTING COVERAGE. + + (a) No Changes to Existing Coverage.-- + (1) In general.--Nothing in this Act (or an amendment made + by this Act) shall be construed to require that an individual + terminate coverage under a group health plan or health insurance + coverage in which such individual was enrolled on the date of + enactment of this Act. + (2) Continuation of coverage.--With respect to a group + health plan or health insurance coverage in which an individual + was enrolled on the date of enactment of this Act, this subtitle + and subtitle A (and the amendments made by such subtitles) shall + not apply to such plan or coverage, regardless of whether the + individual renews such coverage after such date of enactment. + + (b) Allowance for Family Members To Join Current Coverage.--With +respect to a group health plan or health insurance coverage in which an +individual was enrolled on the date of enactment of this Act and which +is renewed after such date, family members of such individual shall be +permitted to enroll in such plan or coverage if such enrollment is +permitted under the terms of the plan in effect as of such date of +enactment. + (c) Allowance for New Employees To Join Current Plan.--A group +health plan that provides coverage on the date of enactment of this Act +may provide for the enrolling of new employees (and their families) in +such plan, and this subtitle and subtitle A (and the amendments made by +such subtitles) shall not apply with respect to such plan and such new +employees (and their families). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 162]] + + (d) Effect on Collective Bargaining Agreements.--In the case of +health insurance coverage maintained pursuant to one or more collective +bargaining agreements between employee representatives and one or more +employers that was ratified before the date of enactment of this Act, +the provisions of this subtitle and subtitle A (and the amendments made +by such subtitles) shall not apply until the date on which the last of +the collective bargaining agreements relating to the coverage +terminates. Any coverage amendment made pursuant to a collective +bargaining agreement relating to the coverage which amends the coverage +solely to conform to any requirement added by this subtitle or subtitle +A (or amendments) shall not be treated as a termination of such +collective bargaining agreement. + (e) Definition.--In this title, the term ``grandfathered health +plan'' means any group health plan or health insurance coverage to which +this section applies. + +SEC. 1252. RATING REFORMS <> MUST APPLY UNIFORMLY + TO ALL HEALTH INSURANCE ISSUERS AND GROUP HEALTH PLANS. + + Any standard or requirement adopted by a State pursuant to this +title, or any amendment made by this title, shall be applied uniformly +to all health plans in each insurance market to which the standard and +requirements apply. The preceding sentence shall also apply to a State +standard or requirement relating to the standard or requirement required +by this title (or any such amendment) that is not the same as the +standard or requirement but that is not preempted under section 1321(d). + +SEC. 1253. <> EFFECTIVE DATES. + + This subtitle (and the amendments made by this subtitle) shall +become effective for plan years beginning on or after January 1, 2014. + + Subtitle D--Available Coverage Choices for All Americans + + PART I--ESTABLISHMENT OF QUALIFIED HEALTH PLANS + +SEC. 1301. QUALIFIED <> HEALTH PLAN DEFINED. + + (a) Qualified Health Plan.--In this title: + (1) In general.--The term ``qualified health plan'' means a + health plan that-- + (A) has in effect a certification (which may include + a seal or other indication of approval) that such plan + meets the criteria for certification described in + section 1311(c) issued or recognized by each Exchange + through which such plan is offered; + (B) provides the essential health benefits package + described in section 1302(a); and + (C) is offered by a health insurance issuer that-- + (i) is licensed and in good standing to offer + health insurance coverage in each State in which + such issuer offers health insurance coverage under + this title; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 163]] + + (ii) agrees to offer at least one qualified + health plan in the silver level and at least one + plan in the gold level in each such Exchange; + (iii) agrees to charge the same premium rate + for each qualified health plan of the issuer + without regard to whether the plan is offered + through an Exchange or whether the plan is offered + directly from the issuer or through an agent; and + (iv) complies with the regulations developed + by the Secretary under section 1311(d) and such + other requirements as an applicable Exchange may + establish. + (2) Inclusion of co-op plans and community health insurance + option.--Any reference in this title to a qualified health plan + shall be deemed to include a qualified health plan offered + through the CO-OP program under section 1322 or a community + health insurance option under section 1323, unless specifically + provided for otherwise. + + (b) Terms Relating to Health Plans.--In this title: + (1) Health plan.-- + (A) In general.--The term ``health plan'' means + health insurance coverage and a group health plan. + (B) Exception for self-insured plans and mewas.-- + Except to the extent specifically provided by this + title, the term ``health plan'' shall not include a + group health plan or multiple employer welfare + arrangement to the extent the plan or arrangement is not + subject to State insurance regulation under section 514 + of the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974. + (2) Health insurance coverage and issuer.--The terms + ``health insurance coverage'' and ``health insurance issuer'' + have the meanings given such terms by section 2791(b) of the + Public Health Service Act. + (3) Group health plan.--The term ``group health plan'' has + the meaning given such term by section 2791(a) of the Public + Health Service Act. + +SEC. 1302. ESSENTIAL <> HEALTH BENEFITS + REQUIREMENTS. + + (a) Essential Health Benefits Package.--In this title, the term +``essential health benefits package'' means, with respect to any health +plan, coverage that-- + (1) provides for the essential health benefits defined by + the Secretary under subsection (b); + (2) limits cost-sharing for such coverage in accordance with + subsection (c); and + (3) subject to subsection (e), provides either the bronze, + silver, gold, or platinum level of coverage described in + subsection (d). + + (b) Essential Health Benefits.-- + (1) In general.--Subject to paragraph (2), the Secretary + shall define the essential health benefits, except that such + benefits shall include at least the following general categories + and the items and services covered within the categories: + (A) Ambulatory patient services. + (B) Emergency services. + (C) Hospitalization. + (D) Maternity and newborn care. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 164]] + + (E) Mental health and substance use disorder + services, including behavioral health treatment. + (F) Prescription drugs. + (G) Rehabilitative and habilitative services and + devices. + (H) Laboratory services. + (I) Preventive and wellness services and chronic + disease management. + (J) Pediatric services, including oral and vision + care. + (2) Limitation.-- + (A) In general.-- + The <> Secretary shall ensure that + the scope of the essential health benefits under + paragraph (1) is equal to the scope of benefits provided + under a typical employer plan, as determined by the + Secretary. To <> inform this + determination, the Secretary of Labor shall conduct a + survey of employer-sponsored coverage to determine the + benefits typically covered by employers, including + multiemployer plans, and provide a report on such survey + to the Secretary. + (B) Certification.--In <> defining + the essential health benefits described in paragraph + (1), and in revising the benefits under paragraph + (4)(H), the Secretary shall submit a report to the + appropriate committees of Congress containing a + certification from the Chief Actuary of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services that such essential health + benefits meet the limitation described in paragraph (2). + (3) Notice and hearing.--In defining the essential health + benefits described in paragraph (1), and in revising the + benefits under paragraph (4)(H), the Secretary shall provide + notice and an opportunity for public comment. + (4) Required elements for consideration.--In defining the + essential health benefits under paragraph (1), the Secretary + shall-- + (A) ensure that such essential health benefits + reflect an appropriate balance among the categories + described in such subsection, so that benefits are not + unduly weighted toward any category; + (B) not make coverage decisions, determine + reimbursement rates, establish incentive programs, or + design benefits in ways that discriminate against + individuals because of their age, disability, or + expected length of life; + (C) take into account the health care needs of + diverse segments of the population, including women, + children, persons with disabilities, and other groups; + (D) ensure that health benefits established as + essential not be subject to denial to individuals + against their wishes on the basis of the individuals' + age or expected length of life or of the individuals' + present or predicted disability, degree of medical + dependency, or quality of life; + (E) provide that a qualified health plan shall not + be treated as providing coverage for the essential + health benefits described in paragraph (1) unless the + plan provides that-- + (i) coverage for emergency department services + will be provided without imposing any requirement + under the plan for prior authorization of services + or any limitation on coverage where the provider + of services does not have a contractual + relationship with the plan + +[[Page 124 STAT. 165]] + + for the providing of services that is more + restrictive than the requirements or limitations + that apply to emergency department services + received from providers who do have such a + contractual relationship with the plan; and + (ii) if such services are provided out-of- + network, the cost-sharing requirement (expressed + as a copayment amount or coinsurance rate) is the + same requirement that would apply if such services + were provided in-network; + (F) provide that if a plan described in section + 1311(b)(2)(B)(ii) (relating to stand-alone dental + benefits plans) is offered through an Exchange, another + health plan offered through such Exchange shall not fail + to be treated as a qualified health plan solely because + the plan does not offer coverage of benefits offered + through the stand-alone plan that are otherwise required + under paragraph (1)(J); and + (G) periodically review the essential health + benefits under paragraph (1), and provide a report to + Congress and the public that contains-- + (i) an assessment of whether enrollees are + facing any difficulty accessing needed services + for reasons of coverage or cost; + (ii) an assessment of whether the essential + health benefits needs to be modified or updated to + account for changes in medical evidence or + scientific advancement; + (iii) information on how the essential health + benefits will be modified to address any such gaps + in access or changes in the evidence base; + (iv) an assessment of the potential of + additional or expanded benefits to increase costs + and the interactions between the addition or + expansion of benefits and reductions in existing + benefits to meet actuarial limitations described + in paragraph (2); and + (H) periodically update the essential health + benefits under paragraph (1) to address any gaps in + access to coverage or changes in the evidence base the + Secretary identifies in the review conducted under + subparagraph (G). + (5) Rule of construction.--Nothing in this title shall be + construed to prohibit a health plan from providing benefits in + excess of the essential health benefits described in this + subsection. + + (c) Requirements Relating to Cost-Sharing.-- + (1) Annual limitation on cost-sharing.-- + (A) 2014.--The cost-sharing incurred under a health + plan with respect to self-only coverage or coverage + other than self-only coverage for a plan year beginning + in 2014 shall not exceed the dollar amounts in effect + under section 223(c)(2)(A)(ii) of the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986 for self-only and family coverage, + respectively, for taxable years beginning in 2014. + (B) 2015 and later.--In the case of any plan year + beginning in a calendar year after 2014, the limitation + under this paragraph shall-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 166]] + + (i) in the case of self-only coverage, be + equal to the dollar amount under subparagraph (A) + for self-only coverage for plan years beginning in + 2014, increased by an amount equal to the product + of that amount and the premium adjustment + percentage under paragraph (4) for the calendar + year; and + (ii) in the case of other coverage, twice the + amount in effect under clause (i). + If the amount of any increase under clause (i) is not a + multiple of $50, such increase shall be rounded to the + next lowest multiple of $50. + (2) Annual limitation on deductibles for employer-sponsored + plans.-- + (A) In general.--In the case of a health plan + offered in the small group market, the deductible under + the plan shall not exceed-- + (i) $2,000 in the case of a plan covering a + single individual; and + (ii) $4,000 in the case of any other plan. + The amounts under clauses (i) and (ii) may be increased + by the maximum amount of reimbursement which is + reasonably available to a participant under a flexible + spending arrangement described in section 106(c)(2) of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (determined without + regard to any salary reduction arrangement). + (B) Indexing of limits.--In the case of any plan + year beginning in a calendar year after 2014-- + (i) the dollar amount under subparagraph + (A)(i) shall be increased by an amount equal to + the product of that amount and the premium + adjustment percentage under paragraph (4) for the + calendar year; and + (ii) the dollar amount under subparagraph + (A)(ii) shall be increased to an amount equal to + twice the amount in effect under subparagraph + (A)(i) for plan years beginning in the calendar + year, determined after application of clause (i). + If the amount of any increase under clause (i) is not a + multiple of $50, such increase shall be rounded to the + next lowest multiple of $50. + (C) Actuarial value.--The limitation under this + paragraph shall be applied in such a manner so as to not + affect the actuarial value of any health plan, including + a plan in the bronze level. + (D) Coordination with preventive limits.--Nothing in + this paragraph shall be construed to allow a plan to + have a deductible under the plan apply to benefits + described in section 2713 of the Public Health Service + Act. + (3) Cost-sharing.--In this title-- + (A) In general.--The term ``cost-sharing'' + includes-- + (i) deductibles, coinsurance, copayments, or + similar charges; and + (ii) any other expenditure required of an + insured individual which is a qualified medical + expense (within the meaning of section 223(d)(2) + of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986) with respect + to essential health benefits covered under the + plan. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 167]] + + (B) Exceptions.--Such term does not include + premiums, balance billing amounts for non-network + providers, or spending for non-covered services. + (4) Premium <> adjustment + percentage.--For purposes of paragraphs (1)(B)(i) and (2)(B)(i), + the premium adjustment percentage for any calendar year is the + percentage (if any) by which the average per capita premium for + health insurance coverage in the United States for the preceding + calendar year (as estimated by the Secretary no later than + October 1 of such preceding calendar year) exceeds such average + per capita premium for 2013 (as determined by the Secretary). + + (d) Levels of Coverage.-- + (1) Levels of coverage defined.--The levels of coverage + described in this subsection are as follows: + (A) Bronze level.--A plan in the bronze level shall + provide a level of coverage that is designed to provide + benefits that are actuarially equivalent to 60 percent + of the full actuarial value of the benefits provided + under the plan. + (B) Silver level.--A plan in the silver level shall + provide a level of coverage that is designed to provide + benefits that are actuarially equivalent to 70 percent + of the full actuarial value of the benefits provided + under the plan. + (C) Gold level.--A plan in the gold level shall + provide a level of coverage that is designed to provide + benefits that are actuarially equivalent to 80 percent + of the full actuarial value of the benefits provided + under the plan. + (D) Platinum level.--A plan in the platinum level + shall provide a level of coverage that is designed to + provide benefits that are actuarially equivalent to 90 + percent of the full actuarial value of the benefits + provided under the plan. + (2) Actuarial value.-- + (A) In general.--Under regulations issued by the + Secretary, the level of coverage of a plan shall be + determined on the basis that the essential health + benefits described in subsection (b) shall be provided + to a standard population (and without regard to the + population the plan may actually provide benefits to). + (B) Employer contributions.--The Secretary may issue + regulations under which employer contributions to a + health savings account (within the meaning of section + 223 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986) may be taken + into account in determining the level of coverage for a + plan of the employer. + (C) Application.--In determining under this title, + the Public Health Service Act, or the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986 the percentage of the total allowed costs + of benefits provided under a group health plan or health + insurance coverage that are provided by such plan or + coverage, the rules contained in the regulations under + this paragraph shall apply. + (3) Allowable variance.-- <> The + Secretary shall develop guidelines to provide for a de minimis + variation in the actuarial valuations used in determining the + level of coverage of a plan to account for differences in + actuarial estimates. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 168]] + + (4) Plan reference.--In this title, any reference to a + bronze, silver, gold, or platinum plan shall be treated as a + reference to a qualified health plan providing a bronze, silver, + gold, or platinum level of coverage, as the case may be. + + (e) Catastrophic Plan.-- + (1) In general.--A health plan not providing a bronze, + silver, gold, or platinum level of coverage shall be treated as + meeting the requirements of subsection (d) with respect to any + plan year if-- + (A) the only individuals who are eligible to enroll + in the plan are individuals described in paragraph (2); + and + (B) the plan provides-- + (i) except as provided in clause (ii), the + essential health benefits determined under + subsection (b), except that the plan provides no + benefits for any plan year until the individual + has incurred cost-sharing expenses in an amount + equal to the annual limitation in effect under + subsection (c)(1) for the plan year (except as + provided for in section 2713); and + (ii) coverage for at least three primary care + visits. + (2) Individuals eligible for enrollment.--An individual is + described in this paragraph for any plan year if the + individual-- + (A) has not attained the age of 30 before the + beginning of the plan year; or + (B) has a certification in effect for any plan year + under this title that the individual is exempt from the + requirement under section 5000A of the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986 by reason of-- + (i) section 5000A(e)(1) of such Code (relating + to individuals without affordable coverage); or + (ii) section 5000A(e)(5) of such Code + (relating to individuals with hardships). + (3) Restriction to individual market.--If a health insurance + issuer offers a health plan described in this subsection, the + issuer may only offer the plan in the individual market. + + (f) Child-only Plans.--If a qualified health plan is offered through +the Exchange in any level of coverage specified under subsection (d), +the issuer shall also offer that plan through the Exchange in that level +as a plan in which the only enrollees are individuals who, as of the +beginning of a plan year, have not attained the age of 21, and such plan +shall be treated as a qualified health plan. + +SEC. 1303. <> SPECIAL RULES. + + (a) Special Rules Relating to Coverage of Abortion Services.-- + (1) Voluntary choice of coverage of abortion services.-- + (A) In general.--Notwithstanding any other provision + of this title (or any amendment made by this title), and + subject to subparagraphs (C) and (D)-- + (i) nothing in this title (or any amendment + made by this title), shall be construed to require + a qualified health plan to provide coverage of + services described in subparagraph (B)(i) or + (B)(ii) as part of its essential health benefits + for any plan year; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 169]] + + (ii) <> the issuer of a + qualified health plan shall determine whether or + not the plan provides coverage of services + described in subparagraph (B)(i) or (B)(ii) as + part of such benefits for the plan year. + (B) Abortion services.-- + (i) Abortions for which public funding is + prohibited.--The services described in this clause + are abortions for which the expenditure of Federal + funds appropriated for the Department of Health + and Human Services is not permitted, based on the + law as in effect as of the date that is 6 months + before the beginning of the plan year involved. + (ii) Abortions for which public funding is + allowed.--The services described in this clause + are abortions for which the expenditure of Federal + funds appropriated for the Department of Health + and Human Services is permitted, based on the law + as in effect as of the date that is 6 months + before the beginning of the plan year involved. + (C) Prohibition on federal funds for abortion + services in community health insurance option.-- + (i) Determination by secretary.--The Secretary + may not determine, in accordance with subparagraph + (A)(ii), that the community health insurance + option established under section 1323 shall + provide coverage of services described in + subparagraph (B)(i) as part of benefits for the + plan year unless the Secretary-- + (I) assures compliance with the + requirements of paragraph (2); + (II) assures, in accordance with + applicable provisions of generally + accepted accounting requirements, + circulars on funds management of the + Office of Management and Budget, and + guidance on accounting of the Government + Accountability Office, that no Federal + funds are used for such coverage; and + (III) notwithstanding section + 1323(e)(1)(C) or any other provision of + this title, takes all necessary steps to + assure that the United States does not + bear the insurance risk for a community + health insurance option's coverage of + services described in subparagraph + (B)(i). + (ii) State requirement.--If a State requires, + in addition to the essential health benefits + required under section 1323(b)(3) (A), coverage of + services described in subparagraph (B)(i) for + enrollees of a community health insurance option + offered in such State, the State shall assure that + no funds flowing through or from the community + health insurance option, and no other Federal + funds, pay or defray the cost of providing + coverage of services described in subparagraph + (B)(i). The United States shall not bear the + insurance risk for a State's required coverage of + services described in subparagraph (B)(i). + (iii) Exceptions.--Nothing in this + subparagraph shall apply to coverage of services + described in subparagraph (B)(ii) by the community + health insurance + +[[Page 124 STAT. 170]] + + option. Services described in subparagraph (B)(ii) + shall be covered to the same extent as such + services are covered under title XIX of the Social + Security Act. + (D) Assured availability of varied coverage through + exchanges.-- + (i) In general.--The Secretary shall assure + that with respect to qualified health plans + offered in any Exchange established pursuant to + this title-- + (I) there is at least one such plan + that provides coverage of services + described in clauses (i) and (ii) of + subparagraph (B); and + (II) there is at least one such plan + that does not provide coverage of + services described in subparagraph + (B)(i). + (ii) Special rules.--For purposes of clause + (i)-- + (I) a plan shall be treated as + described in clause (i)(II) if the plan + does not provide coverage of services + described in either subparagraph (B)(i) + or (B)(ii); and + (II) if a State has one Exchange + covering more than 1 insurance market, + the Secretary shall meet the + requirements of clause (i) separately + with respect to each such market. + (2) Prohibition on the use of federal funds.-- + (A) In general.--If a qualified health plan provides + coverage of services described in paragraph (1)(B)(i), + the issuer of the plan shall not use any amount + attributable to any of the following for purposes of + paying for such services: + (i) The credit under section 36B of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (and the amount (if + any) of the advance payment of the credit under + section 1412 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act). + (ii) Any cost-sharing reduction under section + 1402 of thePatient Protection and Affordable Care + Act (and the amount (if any) of the advance + payment of the reduction under section 1412 of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act). + (B) Segregation of funds.--In the case of a plan to + which subparagraph (A) applies, the issuer of the plan + shall, out of amounts not described in subparagraph (A), + segregate an amount equal to the actuarial amounts + determined under subparagraph (C) for all enrollees from + the amounts described in subparagraph (A). + (C) <> Actuarial value of + optional service coverage.-- + (i) In general.--The Secretary shall estimate + the basic per enrollee, per month cost, determined + on an average actuarial basis, for including + coverage under a qualified health plan of the + services described in paragraph (1)(B)(i). + (ii) Considerations.--In making such estimate, + the Secretary-- + (I) may take into account the impact + on overall costs of the inclusion of + such coverage, but may not take into + account any cost reduction estimated + +[[Page 124 STAT. 171]] + + to result from such services, including + prenatal care, delivery, or postnatal + care; + (II) shall estimate such costs as if + such coverage were included for the + entire population covered; and + (III) may not estimate such a cost + at less than $1 per enrollee, per month. + (3) Provider conscience protections.-- + <> No individual health care provider or + health care facility may be discriminated against because of a + willingness or an unwillingness, if doing so is contrary to the + religious or moral beliefs of the provider or facility, to + provide, pay for, provide coverage of, or refer for abortions. + + (b) Application of State and Federal Laws Regarding Abortion.-- + (1) No preemption of state laws regarding abortion.--Nothing + in this Act shall be construed to preempt or otherwise have any + effect on State laws regarding the prohibition of (or + requirement of) coverage, funding, or procedural requirements on + abortions, including parental notification or consent for the + performance of an abortion on a minor. + (2) No effect on federal laws regarding abortion.-- + (A) In general.--Nothing in this Act shall be + construed to have any effect on Federal laws regarding-- + (i) conscience protection; + (ii) willingness or refusal to provide + abortion; and + (iii) discrimination on the basis of the + willingness or refusal to provide, pay for, cover, + or refer for abortion or to provide or participate + in training to provide abortion. + (3) No effect on federal civil rights law.--Nothing in this + subsection shall alter the rights and obligations of employees + and employers under title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. + + (c) Application of Emergency Services Laws.--Nothing in this Act +shall be construed to relieve any health care provider from providing +emergency services as required by State or Federal law, including +section 1867 of the Social Security Act (popularly known as ``EMTALA''). + +SEC. 1304. <> RELATED DEFINITIONS. + + (a) Definitions Relating to Markets.--In this title: + (1) Group market.--The term ``group market'' means the + health insurance market under which individuals obtain health + insurance coverage (directly or through any arrangement) on + behalf of themselves (and their dependents) through a group + health plan maintained by an employer. + (2) Individual market.--The term ``individual market'' means + the market for health insurance coverage offered to individuals + other than in connection with a group health plan. + (3) Large and small group markets.--The terms ``large group + market'' and ``small group market'' mean the health insurance + market under which individuals obtain health insurance coverage + (directly or through any arrangement) on behalf of themselves + (and their dependents) through a group health plan maintained by + a large employer (as defined in subsection + +[[Page 124 STAT. 172]] + + (b)(1)) or by a small employer (as defined in subsection + (b)(2)), respectively. + + (b) Employers.--In this title: + (1) Large employer.--The term ``large employer'' means, in + connection with a group health plan with respect to a calendar + year and a plan year, an employer who employed an average of at + least 101 employees on business days during the preceding + calendar year and who employs at least 1 employee on the first + day of the plan year. + (2) Small employer.--The term ``small employer'' means, in + connection with a group health plan with respect to a calendar + year and a plan year, an employer who employed an average of at + least 1 but not more than 100 employees on business days during + the preceding calendar year and who employs at least 1 employee + on the first day of the plan year. + (3) State option to treat 50 employees as small.--In the + case of plan years beginning before January 1, 2016, a State may + elect to apply this subsection by substituting ``51 employees'' + for ``101 employees'' in paragraph (1) and by substituting ``50 + employees'' for ``100 employees'' in paragraph (2). + (4) Rules for determining employer size.--For purposes of + this subsection-- + (A) Application of aggregation rule for employers.-- + All persons treated as a single employer under + subsection (b), (c), (m), or (o) of section 414 of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 shall be treated as 1 + employer. + (B) Employers not in existence in preceding year.-- + In the case of an employer which was not in existence + throughout the preceding calendar year, the + determination of whether such employer is a small or + large employer shall be based on the average number of + employees that it is reasonably expected such employer + will employ on business days in the current calendar + year. + (C) Predecessors.--Any reference in this subsection + to an employer shall include a reference to any + predecessor of such employer. + (D) Continuation of participation for growing small + employers.--If-- + (i) a qualified employer that is a small + employer makes enrollment in qualified health + plans offered in the small group market available + to its employees through an Exchange; and + (ii) the employer ceases to be a small + employer by reason of an increase in the number of + employees of such employer; + <> the employer shall continue to be + treated as a small employer for purposes of this + subtitle for the period beginning with the increase and + ending with the first day on which the employer does not + make such enrollment available to its employees. + + (c) Secretary.--In this title, the term ``Secretary'' means the +Secretary of Health and Human Services. + (d) State.--In this title, the term ``State'' means each of the 50 +States and the District of Columbia. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 173]] + + PART II--CONSUMER CHOICES AND INSURANCE COMPETITION THROUGH HEALTH + BENEFIT EXCHANGES + +SEC. 1311. <> AFFORDABLE CHOICES OF HEALTH BENEFIT + PLANS. + + (a) Assistance to States to Establish American Health Benefit +Exchanges.-- + (1) Planning and establishment grants.-- + <> There shall be appropriated to the + Secretary, out of any moneys in the Treasury not otherwise + appropriated, an amount necessary to enable the Secretary to + make awards, not later than 1 year after the date of enactment + of this Act, to States in the amount specified in paragraph (2) + for the uses described in paragraph (3). + (2) Amount specified.-- <> For each + fiscal year, the Secretary shall determine the total amount that + the Secretary will make available to each State for grants under + this subsection. + (3) Use of funds.--A State shall use amounts awarded under + this subsection for activities (including planning activities) + related to establishing an American Health Benefit Exchange, as + described in subsection (b). + (4) Renewability of grant.-- + (A) In general.--Subject to subsection (d)(4), the + Secretary may renew a grant awarded under paragraph (1) + if the State recipient of such grant-- + (i) is making progress, as determined by the + Secretary, toward-- + (I) establishing an Exchange; and + (II) implementing the reforms + described in subtitles A and C (and the + amendments made by such subtitles); and + (ii) is meeting such other benchmarks as the + Secretary may establish. + (B) Limitation.--No <> grant shall + be awarded under this subsection after January 1, 2015. + (5) Technical assistance to facilitate participation in shop + exchanges.--The Secretary shall provide technical assistance to + States to facilitate the participation of qualified small + businesses in such States in SHOP Exchanges. + + (b) American Health Benefit Exchanges.-- + (1) In general.-- + Each <> State shall, not later + than January 1, 2014, establish an American Health Benefit + Exchange (referred to in this title as an ``Exchange'') for the + State that-- + (A) facilitates the purchase of qualified health + plans; + (B) provides for the establishment of a Small + Business Health Options Program (in this title referred + to as a ``SHOP Exchange'') that is designed to assist + qualified employers in the State who are small employers + in facilitating the enrollment of their employees in + qualified health plans offered in the small group market + in the State; and + (C) meets the requirements of subsection (d). + (2) Merger of individual and shop exchanges.--A State may + elect to provide only one Exchange in the State for providing + both Exchange and SHOP Exchange services to both qualified + individuals and qualified small employers, but only + +[[Page 124 STAT. 174]] + + if the Exchange has adequate resources to assist such + individuals and employers. + + (c) Responsibilities of the Secretary.-- + (1) In general.--The <> Secretary shall, + by regulation, establish criteria for the certification of + health plans as qualified health plans. Such criteria shall + require that, to be certified, a plan shall, at a minimum-- + (A) meet marketing requirements, and not employ + marketing practices or benefit designs that have the + effect of discouraging the enrollment in such plan by + individuals with significant health needs; + (B) ensure a sufficient choice of providers (in a + manner consistent with applicable network adequacy + provisions under section 2702(c) of the Public Health + Service Act), and provide information to enrollees and + prospective enrollees on the availability of in-network + and out-of-network providers; + (C) include within health insurance plan networks + those essential community providers, where available, + that serve predominately low-income, medically- + underserved individuals, such as health care providers + defined in section 340B(a)(4) of the Public Health + Service Act and providers described in section + 1927(c)(1)(D)(i)(IV) of the Social Security Act as set + forth by section 221 of Public Law 111-8, except that + nothing in this subparagraph shall be construed to + require any health plan to provide coverage for any + specific medical procedure; + (D)(i) be accredited with respect to local + performance on clinical quality measures such as the + Healthcare Effectiveness Data and Information Set, + patient experience ratings on a standardized Consumer + Assessment of Healthcare Providers and Systems survey, + as well as consumer access, utilization management, + quality assurance, provider credentialing, complaints + and appeals, network adequacy and access, and patient + information programs by any entity recognized by the + Secretary for the accreditation of health insurance + issuers or plans (so long as any such entity has + transparent and rigorous methodological and scoring + criteria); or + (ii) receive such accreditation within a period + established by an Exchange for such accreditation that + is applicable to all qualified health plans; + (E) implement a quality improvement strategy + described in subsection (g)(1); + (F) utilize a uniform enrollment form that qualified + individuals and qualified employers may use (either + electronically or on paper) in enrolling in qualified + health plans offered through such Exchange, and that + takes into account criteria that the National + Association of Insurance Commissioners develops and + submits to the Secretary; + (G) utilize the standard format established for + presenting health benefits plan options; and + (H) provide information to enrollees and prospective + enrollees, and to each Exchange in which the plan is + offered, on any quality measures for health plan + performance endorsed under section 399JJ of the Public + Health Service Act, as applicable. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 175]] + + (2) Rule of construction.-- <> Nothing in + paragraph (1)(C) shall be construed to require a qualified + health plan to contract with a provider described in such + paragraph if such provider refuses to accept the generally + applicable payment rates of such plan. + (3) Rating system.--The Secretary shall develop a rating + system that would rate qualified health plans offered through an + Exchange in each benefits level on the basis of the relative + quality and price. The Exchange shall include the quality rating + in the information provided to individuals and employers through + the Internet portal established under paragraph (4). + (4) Enrollee satisfaction system.--The Secretary shall + develop an enrollee satisfaction survey system that would + evaluate the level of enrollee satisfaction with qualified + health plans offered through an Exchange, for each such + qualified health plan that had more than 500 enrollees in the + previous year. The Exchange shall include enrollee satisfaction + information in the information provided to individuals and + employers through the Internet portal established under + paragraph (5) in a manner that allows individuals to easily + compare enrollee satisfaction levels between comparable plans. + (5) Internet portals.--The Secretary shall-- + (A) continue to operate, maintain, and update the + Internet portal developed under section 1103(a) and to + assist States in developing and maintaining their own + such portal; and + (B) make available for use by Exchanges a model + template for an Internet portal that may be used to + direct qualified individuals and qualified employers to + qualified health plans, to assist such individuals and + employers in determining whether they are eligible to + participate in an Exchange or eligible for a premium tax + credit or cost-sharing reduction, and to present + standardized information (including quality ratings) + regarding qualified health plans offered through an + Exchange to assist consumers in making easy health + insurance choices. + Such template shall include, with respect to each qualified + health plan offered through the Exchange in each rating area, + access to the uniform outline of coverage the plan is required + to provide under section 2716 of the Public Health Service Act + and to a copy of the plan's written policy. + (6) Enrollment periods.--The Secretary shall require an + Exchange to provide for-- + (A) <> an initial open + enrollment, as determined by the Secretary (such + determination to be made not later than July 1, 2012); + (B) <> annual open enrollment + periods, as determined by the Secretary for calendar + years after the initial enrollment period; + (C) special enrollment periods specified in section + 9801 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 and other + special enrollment periods under circumstances similar + to such periods under part D of title XVIII of the + Social Security Act; and + (D) <> special monthly + enrollment periods for Indians (as defined in section 4 + of the Indian Health Care Improvement Act). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 176]] + + (d) Requirements.-- + (1) In general.--An Exchange shall be a governmental agency + or nonprofit entity that is established by a State. + (2) Offering of coverage.-- + (A) In general.--An Exchange shall make available + qualified health plans to qualified individuals and + qualified employers. + (B) Limitation.-- + (i) In general.--An Exchange may not make + available any health plan that is not a qualified + health plan. + (ii) Offering of stand-alone dental + benefits.--Each Exchange within a State shall + allow an issuer of a plan that only provides + limited scope dental benefits meeting the + requirements of section 9832(c)(2)(A) of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 to offer the plan + through the Exchange (either separately or in + conjunction with a qualified health plan) if the + plan provides pediatric dental benefits meeting + the requirements of section 1302(b)(1)(J)). + (3) Rules relating to additional required benefits.-- + (A) In general.--Except as provided in subparagraph + (B), an Exchange may make available a qualified health + plan notwithstanding any provision of law that may + require benefits other than the essential health + benefits specified under section 1302(b). + (B) States may require additional benefits.-- + (i) In general.--Subject to the requirements + of clause (ii), a State may require that a + qualified health plan offered in such State offer + benefits in addition to the essential health + benefits specified under section 1302(b). + (ii) State must assume cost.-- + A <> State shall make payments to + or on behalf of an individual eligible for the + premium tax credit under section 36B of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 and any cost-sharing + reduction under section 1402 to defray the cost to + the individual of any additional benefits + described in clause (i) which are not eligible for + such credit or reduction under section + 36B(b)(3)(D) of such Code and section 1402(c)(4). + (4) Functions.--An Exchange shall, at a minimum-- + (A) <> implement procedures for + the certification, recertification, and decertification, + consistent with guidelines developed by the Secretary + under subsection (c), of health plans as qualified + health plans; + (B) <> provide for the operation of + a toll-free telephone hotline to respond to requests for + assistance; + (C) <> maintain an Internet website + through which enrollees and prospective enrollees of + qualified health plans may obtain standardized + comparative information on such plans; + (D) assign a rating to each qualified health plan + offered through such Exchange in accordance with the + criteria developed by the Secretary under subsection + (c)(3); + (E) utilize a standardized format for presenting + health benefits plan options in the Exchange, including + the use + +[[Page 124 STAT. 177]] + + of the uniform outline of coverage established under + section 2715 of the Public Health Service Act; + (F) in accordance with section 1413, inform + individuals of eligibility requirements for the medicaid + program under title XIX of the Social Security Act, the + CHIP program under title XXI of such Act, or any + applicable State or local public program and if through + screening of the application by the Exchange, the + Exchange determines that such individuals are eligible + for any such program, enroll such individuals in such + program; + (G) establish and make available by electronic means + a calculator to determine the actual cost of coverage + after the application of any premium tax credit under + section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 and any + cost-sharing reduction under section 1402; + (H) <> subject to section + 1411, grant a certification attesting that, for purposes + of the individual responsibility penalty under section + 5000A of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, an + individual is exempt from the individual requirement or + from the penalty imposed by such section because-- + (i) there is no affordable qualified health + plan available through the Exchange, or the + individual's employer, covering the individual; or + (ii) the individual meets the requirements for + any other such exemption from the individual + responsibility requirement or penalty; + (I) transfer to the Secretary of the Treasury-- + (i) <> a list of the individuals + who are issued a certification under subparagraph + (H), including the name and taxpayer + identification number of each individual; + (ii) the name and taxpayer identification + number of each individual who was an employee of + an employer but who was determined to be eligible + for the premium tax credit under section 36B of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 because-- + (I) the employer did not provide + minimum essential coverage; or + (II) the employer provided such + minimum essential coverage but it was + determined under section 36B(c)(2)(C) of + such Code to either be unaffordable to + the employee or not provide the required + minimum actuarial value; and + (iii) the name and taxpayer identification + number of each individual who notifies the + Exchange under section 1411(b)(4) that they have + changed employers and of each individual who + ceases coverage under a qualified health plan + during a plan year (and the effective date of such + cessation); + (J) provide to each employer the name of each + employee of the employer described in subparagraph + (I)(ii) who ceases coverage under a qualified health + plan during a plan year (and the effective date of such + cessation); and + (K) establish the Navigator program described in + subsection (i). + (5) Funding limitations.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 178]] + + (A) No federal funds for continued + operations. <> --In establishing + an Exchange under this section, the State shall ensure + that such Exchange is self-sustaining beginning on + January 1, 2015, including allowing the Exchange to + charge assessments or user fees to participating health + insurance issuers, or to otherwise generate funding, to + support its operations. + (B) Prohibiting wasteful use of funds.--In carrying + out activities under this subsection, an Exchange shall + not utilize any funds intended for the administrative + and operational expenses of the Exchange for staff + retreats, promotional giveaways, excessive executive + compensation, or promotion of Federal or State + legislative and regulatory modifications. + (6) Consultation.--An Exchange shall consult with + stakeholders relevant to carrying out the activities under this + section, including-- + (A) health care consumers who are enrollees in + qualified health plans; + (B) individuals and entities with experience in + facilitating enrollment in qualified health plans; + (C) representatives of small businesses and self- + employed individuals; + (D) State Medicaid offices; and + (E) advocates for enrolling hard to reach + populations. + (7) Publication of costs.-- <> An Exchange + shall publish the average costs of licensing, regulatory fees, + and any other payments required by the Exchange, and the + administrative costs of such Exchange, on an Internet website to + educate consumers on such costs. Such information shall also + include monies lost to waste, fraud, and abuse. + + (e) Certification.-- + (1) In general.--An Exchange may certify a health plan as a + qualified health plan if-- + (A) such health plan meets the requirements for + certification as promulgated by the Secretary under + subsection (c)(1); and + (B) <> the Exchange determines + that making available such health plan through such + Exchange is in the interests of qualified individuals + and qualified employers in the State or States in which + such Exchange operates, except that the Exchange may not + exclude a health plan-- + (i) on the basis that such plan is a fee-for- + service plan; + (ii) through the imposition of premium price + controls; or + (iii) on the basis that the plan provides + treatments necessary to prevent patients' deaths + in circumstances the Exchange determines are + inappropriate or too costly. + (2) Premium considerations.--The Exchange shall require + health plans seeking certification as qualified health plans to + submit a justification for any premium increase prior to + implementation of the increase. <> Such plans + shall prominently post such information on their websites. The + Exchange may take this information, and the information and the + recommendations provided to the Exchange by the State under + +[[Page 124 STAT. 179]] + + section 2794(b)(1) of the Public Health Service Act (relating to + patterns or practices of excessive or unjustified premium + increases), into consideration when determining whether to make + such health plan available through the Exchange. The Exchange + shall take into account any excess of premium growth outside the + Exchange as compared to the rate of such growth inside the + Exchange, including information reported by the States. + + (f) Flexibility.-- + (1) Regional or other interstate exchanges.--An Exchange may + operate in more than one State if-- + (A) each State in which such Exchange operates + permits such operation; and + (B) the Secretary approves such regional or + interstate Exchange. + (2) Subsidiary exchanges.--A State may establish one or more + subsidiary Exchanges if-- + (A) each such Exchange serves a geographically + distinct area; and + (B) the area served by each such Exchange is at + least as large as a rating area described in section + 2701(a) of the Public Health Service Act. + (3) Authority to contract.-- + (A) In general.--A State may elect to authorize an + Exchange established by the State under this section to + enter into an agreement with an eligible entity to carry + out 1 or more responsibilities of the Exchange. + (B) Eligible entity. <> --In this + paragraph, the term ``eligible entity'' means-- + (i) a person-- + (I) incorporated under, and subject + to the laws of, 1 or more States; + (II) that has demonstrated + experience on a State or regional basis + in the individual and small group health + insurance markets and in benefits + coverage; and + (III) that is not a health insurance + issuer or that is treated under + subsection (a) or (b) of section 52 of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 as a + member of the same controlled group of + corporations (or under common control + with) as a health insurance issuer; or + (ii) the State medicaid agency under title XIX + of the Social Security Act. + + (g) Rewarding Quality Through Market-Based Incentives.-- + (1) Strategy described.--A strategy described in this + paragraph is a payment structure that provides increased + reimbursement or other incentives for-- + (A) improving health outcomes through the + implementation of activities that shall include quality + reporting, effective case management, care coordination, + chronic disease management, medication and care + compliance initiatives, including through the use of the + medical home model, for treatment or services under the + plan or coverage; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 180]] + + (B) the implementation of activities to prevent + hospital readmissions through a comprehensive program + for hospital discharge that includes patient-centered + education and counseling, comprehensive discharge + planning, and post discharge reinforcement by an + appropriate health care professional; + (C) the implementation of activities to improve + patient safety and reduce medical errors through the + appropriate use of best clinical practices, evidence + based medicine, and health information technology under + the plan or coverage; and + (D) the implementation of wellness and health + promotion activities. + (2) Guidelines.--The Secretary, in consultation with experts + in health care quality and stakeholders, shall develop + guidelines concerning the matters described in paragraph (1). + (3) Requirements.-- <> The guidelines + developed under paragraph (2) shall require the periodic + reporting to the applicable Exchange of the activities that a + qualified health plan has conducted to implement a strategy + described in paragraph (1). + + (h) Quality Improvement.-- + (1) Enhancing patient safety.-- <> Beginning on January 1, 2015, a qualified health plan + may contract with-- + (A) a hospital with greater than 50 beds only if + such hospital-- + (i) utilizes a patient safety evaluation + system as described in part C of title IX of the + Public Health Service Act; and + (ii) implements a mechanism to ensure that + each patient receives a comprehensive program for + hospital discharge that includes patient-centered + education and counseling, comprehensive discharge + planning, and post discharge reinforcement by an + appropriate health care professional; or + (B) a health care provider only if such provider + implements such mechanisms to improve health care + quality as the Secretary may by regulation require. + (2) Exceptions.--The Secretary may establish reasonable + exceptions to the requirements described in paragraph (1). + (3) Adjustment.--The Secretary may by regulation adjust the + number of beds described in paragraph (1)(A). + + (i) Navigators.-- + (1) <> In general.--An Exchange shall + establish a program under which it awards grants to entities + described in paragraph (2) to carry out the duties described in + paragraph (3). + (2) Eligibility.-- + (A) In general.--To be eligible to receive a grant + under paragraph (1), an entity shall demonstrate to the + Exchange involved that the entity has existing + relationships, or could readily establish relationships, + with employers and employees, consumers (including + uninsured and underinsured consumers), or self-employed + individuals likely to be qualified to enroll in a + qualified health plan. + (B) Types.--Entities described in subparagraph (A) + may include trade, industry, and professional + associations, commercial fishing industry organizations, + ranching and farming organizations, community and + consumer-focused + +[[Page 124 STAT. 181]] + + nonprofit groups, chambers of commerce, unions, small + business development centers, other licensed insurance + agents and brokers, and other entities that-- + (i) are capable of carrying out the duties + described in paragraph (3); + (ii) meet the standards described in paragraph + (4); and + (iii) provide information consistent with the + standards developed under paragraph (5). + (3) Duties.--An entity that serves as a navigator under a + grant under this subsection shall-- + (A) conduct public education activities to raise + awareness of the availability of qualified health plans; + (B) distribute fair and impartial information + concerning enrollment in qualified health plans, and the + availability of premium tax credits under section 36B of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 and cost-sharing + reductions under section 1402; + (C) facilitate enrollment in qualified health plans; + (D) provide referrals to any applicable office of + health insurance consumer assistance or health insurance + ombudsman established under section 2793 of the Public + Health Service Act, or any other appropriate State + agency or agencies, for any enrollee with a grievance, + complaint, or question regarding their health plan, + coverage, or a determination under such plan or + coverage; and + (E) provide information in a manner that is + culturally and linguistically appropriate to the needs + of the population being served by the Exchange or + Exchanges. + (4) Standards.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary shall establish + standards for navigators under this subsection, + including provisions to ensure that any private or + public entity that is selected as a navigator is + qualified, and licensed if appropriate, to engage in the + navigator activities described in this subsection and to + avoid conflicts of interest. Under such standards, a + navigator shall not-- + (i) be a health insurance issuer; or + (ii) receive any consideration directly or + indirectly from any health insurance issuer in + connection with the enrollment of any qualified + individuals or employees of a qualified employer + in a qualified health plan. + (5) Fair and impartial information and services.-- + <> The Secretary, in collaboration with + States, shall develop standards to ensure that information made + available by navigators is fair, accurate, and impartial. + (6) Funding.--Grants under this subsection shall be made + from the operational funds of the Exchange and not Federal funds + received by the State to establish the Exchange. + + (j) Applicability of Mental Health Parity.--Section 2726 of the +Public Health Service Act shall apply to qualified health plans in the +same manner and to the same extent as such section applies to health +insurance issuers and group health plans. + (k) Conflict.--An Exchange may not establish rules that conflict +with or prevent the application of regulations promulgated by the +Secretary under this subtitle. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 182]] + +SEC. 1312. <> CONSUMER CHOICE. + + (a) Choice.-- + (1) Qualified individuals.--A qualified individual may + enroll in any qualified health plan available to such + individual. + (2) Qualified employers.-- + (A) Employer may specify level.--A qualified + employer may provide support for coverage of employees + under a qualified health plan by selecting any level of + coverage under section 1302(d) to be made available to + employees through an Exchange. + (B) Employee may choose plans within a level.--Each + employee of a qualified employer that elects a level of + coverage under subparagraph (A) may choose to enroll in + a qualified health plan that offers coverage at that + level. + + (b) Payment of Premiums by Qualified Individuals.--A qualified +individual enrolled in any qualified health plan may pay any applicable +premium owed by such individual to the health insurance issuer issuing +such qualified health plan. + (c) Single Risk Pool.-- + (1) Individual market.--A health insurance issuer shall + consider all enrollees in all health plans (other than + grandfathered health plans) offered by such issuer in the + individual market, including those enrollees who do not enroll + in such plans through the Exchange, to be members of a single + risk pool. + (2) Small group market.--A health insurance issuer shall + consider all enrollees in all health plans (other than + grandfathered health plans) offered by such issuer in the small + group market, including those enrollees who do not enroll in + such plans through the Exchange, to be members of a single risk + pool. + (3) Merger of markets.--A State may require the individual + and small group insurance markets within a State to be merged if + the State determines appropriate. + (4) State law.--A State law requiring grandfathered health + plans to be included in a pool described in paragraph (1) or (2) + shall not apply. + + (d) Empowering Consumer Choice.-- + (1) Continued operation of market outside exchanges.-- + Nothing in this title shall be construed to prohibit-- + (A) a health insurance issuer from offering outside + of an Exchange a health plan to a qualified individual + or qualified employer; and + (B) a qualified individual from enrolling in, or a + qualified employer from selecting for its employees, a + health plan offered outside of an Exchange. + (2) Continued operation of state benefit requirements.-- + Nothing in this title shall be construed to terminate, abridge, + or limit the operation of any requirement under State law with + respect to any policy or plan that is offered outside of an + Exchange to offer benefits. + (3) Voluntary nature of an exchange.-- + (A) Choice to enroll or not to enroll.--Nothing in + this title shall be construed to restrict the choice of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 183]] + + a qualified individual to enroll or not to enroll in a + qualified health plan or to participate in an Exchange. + (B) Prohibition against compelled enrollment.-- + Nothing in this title shall be construed to compel an + individual to enroll in a qualified health plan or to + participate in an Exchange. + (C) Individuals allowed to enroll in any plan.--A + qualified individual may enroll in any qualified health + plan, except that in the case of a catastrophic plan + described in section 1302(e), a qualified individual may + enroll in the plan only if the individual is eligible to + enroll in the plan under section 1302(e)(2). + (D) Members of congress in the exchange.-- + (i) Requirement.--Notwithstanding any other + provision of law, after the effective date of this + subtitle, the only health plans that the Federal + Government may make available to Members of + Congress and congressional staff with respect to + their service as a Member of Congress or + congressional staff shall be health plans that + are-- + (I) created under this Act (or an + amendment made by this Act); or + (II) offered through an Exchange + established under this Act (or an + amendment made by this Act). + (ii) Definitions.--In this section: + (I) Member of congress.--The term + ``Member of Congress'' means any member + of the House of Representatives or the + Senate. + (II) Congressional staff.--The term + ``congressional staff'' means all full- + time and part-time employees employed by + the official office of a Member of + Congress, whether in Washington, DC or + outside of Washington, DC. + (4) No penalty for transferring to minimum essential + coverage outside exchange.--An Exchange, or a qualified health + plan offered through an Exchange, shall not impose any penalty + or other fee on an individual who cancels enrollment in a plan + because the individual becomes eligible for minimum essential + coverage (as defined in section 5000A(f) of the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986 without regard to paragraph (1)(C) or (D) thereof) + or such coverage becomes affordable (within the meaning of + section 36B(c)(2)(C) of such Code). + + (e) Enrollment Through Agents or Brokers. <> -- +The Secretary shall establish procedures under which a State may allow +agents or brokers-- + (1) to enroll individuals in any qualified health plans in + the individual or small group market as soon as the plan is + offered through an Exchange in the State; and + (2) to assist individuals in applying for premium tax + credits and cost-sharing reductions for plans sold through an + Exchange. + +Such procedures may include the establishment of rate schedules for +broker commissions paid by health benefits plans offered through an +exchange. + (f) Qualified Individuals and Employers; Access Limited to Citizens +and Lawful Residents.-- + (1) Qualified individuals.--In this title: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 184]] + + (A) In general. <> --The term + ``qualified individual'' means, with respect to an + Exchange, an individual who-- + (i) is seeking to enroll in a qualified health + plan in the individual market offered through the + Exchange; and + (ii) resides in the State that established the + Exchange (except with respect to territorial + agreements under section 1312(f)). + (B) Incarcerated individuals excluded.--An + individual shall not be treated as a qualified + individual if, at the time of enrollment, the individual + is incarcerated, other than incarceration pending the + disposition of charges. + (2) Qualified employer.--In this title: + (A) In general. <> --The term + ``qualified employer'' means a small employer that + elects to make all full-time employees of such employer + eligible for 1 or more qualified health plans offered in + the small group market through an Exchange that offers + qualified health plans. + (B) Extension to large groups.-- + (i) In general. <> -- + Beginning in 2017, each State may allow issuers of + health insurance coverage in the large group + market in the State to offer qualified health + plans in such market through an Exchange. Nothing + in this subparagraph shall be construed as + requiring the issuer to offer such plans through + an Exchange. + (ii) Large employers eligible.--If a State + under clause (i) allows issuers to offer qualified + health plans in the large group market through an + Exchange, the term ``qualified employer'' shall + include a large employer that elects to make all + full-time employees of such employer eligible for + 1 or more qualified health plans offered in the + large group market through the Exchange. + (3) Access limited to lawful residents.--If an individual is + not, or is not reasonably expected to be for the entire period + for which enrollment is sought, a citizen or national of the + United States or an alien lawfully present in the United States, + the individual shall not be treated as a qualified individual + and may not be covered under a qualified health plan in the + individual market that is offered through an Exchange. + +SEC. 1313. <> FINANCIAL INTEGRITY. + + (a) Accounting for Expenditures.-- + (1) In general.-- <> An Exchange + shall keep an accurate accounting of all activities, receipts, + and expenditures and shall annually submit to the Secretary a + report concerning such accountings. + (2) Investigations.--The Secretary, in coordination with the + Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human + Services, may investigate the affairs of an Exchange, may + examine the properties and records of an Exchange, and may + require periodic reports in relation to activities undertaken by + an Exchange. An Exchange shall fully cooperate in any + investigation conducted under this paragraph. + (3) Audits.-- <> An Exchange shall be + subject to annual audits by the Secretary. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 185]] + + (4) Pattern of abuse.-- <> If the + Secretary determines that an Exchange or a State has engaged in + serious misconduct with respect to compliance with the + requirements of, or carrying out of activities required under, + this title, the Secretary may rescind from payments otherwise + due to such State involved under this or any other Act + administered by the Secretary an amount not to exceed 1 percent + of such payments per year until corrective actions are taken by + the State that are determined to be adequate by the Secretary. + (5) Protections against fraud and abuse.--With respect to + activities carried out under this title, the Secretary shall + provide for the efficient and non-discriminatory administration + of Exchange activities and implement any measure or procedure + that-- + (A) the Secretary determines is appropriate to + reduce fraud and abuse in the administration of this + title; and + (B) the Secretary has authority to implement under + this title or any other Act. + (6) Application of the false claims act.-- + (A) In general.--Payments made by, through, or in + connection with an Exchange are subject to the False + Claims Act (31 U.S.C. 3729 et seq.) if those payments + include any Federal funds. Compliance with the + requirements of this Act concerning eligibility for a + health insurance issuer to participate in the Exchange + shall be a material condition of an issuer's entitlement + to receive payments, including payments of premium tax + credits and cost-sharing reductions, through the + Exchange. + (B) Damages <> .--Notwithstanding + paragraph (1) of section 3729(a) of title 31, United + States Code, and subject to paragraph (2) of such + section, the civil penalty assessed under the False + Claims Act on any person found liable under such Act as + described in subparagraph (A) shall be increased by not + less than 3 times and not more than 6 times the amount + of damages which the Government sustains because of the + act of that person. + + (b) GAO Oversight. <> --Not later than 5 +years after the first date on which Exchanges are required to be +operational under this title, the Comptroller General shall conduct an +ongoing study of Exchange activities and the enrollees in qualified +health plans offered through Exchanges. Such study shall review-- + (1) the operations and administration of Exchanges, + including surveys and reports of qualified health plans offered + through Exchanges and on the experience of such plans (including + data on enrollees in Exchanges and individuals purchasing health + insurance coverage outside of Exchanges), the expenses of + Exchanges, claims statistics relating to qualified health plans, + complaints data relating to such plans, and the manner in which + Exchanges meet their goals; + (2) any significant observations regarding the utilization + and adoption of Exchanges; + (3) where appropriate, recommendations for improvements in + the operations or policies of Exchanges; and + (4) how many physicians, by area and specialty, are not + taking or accepting new patients enrolled in Federal Government + health care programs, and the adequacy of provider networks of + Federal Government health care programs. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 186]] + + PART III--STATE FLEXIBILITY RELATING TO EXCHANGES + +SEC. 1321. <> STATE FLEXIBILITY IN OPERATION AND + ENFORCEMENT OF EXCHANGES AND RELATED REQUIREMENTS. + + (a) Establishment of Standards.-- + (1) In general.-- <> The Secretary + shall, as soon as practicable after the date of enactment of + this Act, issue regulations setting standards for meeting the + requirements under this title, and the amendments made by this + title, with respect to-- + (A) the establishment and operation of Exchanges + (including SHOP Exchanges); + (B) the offering of qualified health plans through + such Exchanges; + (C) the establishment of the reinsurance and risk + adjustment programs under part V; and + (D) such other requirements as the Secretary + determines appropriate. + The preceding sentence shall not apply to standards for + requirements under subtitles A and C (and the amendments made by + such subtitles) for which the Secretary issues regulations under + the Public Health Service Act. + (2) Consultation.--In issuing the regulations under + paragraph (1), the Secretary shall consult with the National + Association of Insurance Commissioners and its members and with + health insurance issuers, consumer organizations, and such other + individuals as the Secretary selects in a manner designed to + ensure balanced representation among interested parties. + + (b) State Action <> .--Each State that elects, at +such time and in such manner as the Secretary may prescribe, to apply +the requirements described in subsection (a) shall, not later than +January 1, 2014, adopt and have in effect-- + (1) the Federal standards established under subsection (a); + or + (2) a State law or regulation that the Secretary determines + implements the standards within the State. + + (c) Failure To Establish Exchange or Implement Requirements.-- + (1) In general.--If-- + (A) a State is not an electing State under + subsection (b); or + (B) <> the Secretary + determines, on or before January 1, 2013, that an + electing State-- + (i) will not have any required Exchange + operational by January 1, 2014; or + (ii) has not taken the actions the Secretary + determines necessary to implement-- + (I) the other requirements set forth + in the standards under subsection (a); + or + (II) the requirements set forth in + subtitles A and C and the amendments + made by such subtitles; + the Secretary shall (directly or through agreement with a not- + for-profit entity) establish and operate such Exchange within + the State and the Secretary shall take such actions as are + necessary to implement such other requirements. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 187]] + + (2) Enforcement authority.-- <> The + provisions of section 2736(b) of the Public Health Services Act + shall apply to the enforcement under paragraph (1) of + requirements of subsection (a)(1) (without regard to any + limitation on the application of those provisions to group + health plans). + + (d) No Interference With State Regulatory Authority.--Nothing in +this title shall be construed to preempt any State law that does not +prevent the application of the provisions of this title. + (e) Presumption for Certain State-Operated Exchanges.-- + (1) In general.-- <> In the case of a + State operating an Exchange before January 1, 2010, and which + has insured a percentage of its population not less than the + percentage of the population projected to be covered nationally + after the implementation of this Act, that seeks to operate an + Exchange under this section, the Secretary shall presume that + such Exchange meets the standards under this section unless the + Secretary determines, after completion of the process + established under paragraph (2), that the Exchange does not + comply with such standards. + (2) Process.--The Secretary shall establish a process to + work with a State described in paragraph (1) to provide + assistance necessary to assist the State's Exchange in coming + into compliance with the standards for approval under this + section. + +SEC. 1322. <> FEDERAL PROGRAM TO ASSIST + ESTABLISHMENT AND OPERATION OF NONPROFIT, MEMBER-RUN HEALTH + INSURANCE ISSUERS. + + (a) Establishment of Program.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary shall establish a program to + carry out the purposes of this section to be known as the + Consumer Operated and Oriented Plan (CO-OP) program. + (2) Purpose.--It is the purpose of the CO-OP program to + foster the creation of qualified nonprofit health insurance + issuers to offer qualified health plans in the individual and + small group markets in the States in which the issuers are + licensed to offer such plans. + + (b) Loans and Grants Under the CO-OP Program.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary shall provide through the CO- + OP program for the awarding to persons applying to become + qualified nonprofit health insurance issuers of-- + (A) loans to provide assistance to such person in + meeting its start-up costs; and + (B) grants to provide assistance to such person in + meeting any solvency requirements of States in which the + person seeks to be licensed to issue qualified health + plans. + (2) Requirements for awarding loans and grants.-- + (A) In general.--In awarding loans and grants under + the CO-OP program, the Secretary shall-- + (i) take into account the recommendations of + the advisory board established under paragraph + (3); + (ii) give priority to applicants that will + offer qualified health plans on a Statewide basis, + will utilize integrated care models, and have + significant private support; and + (iii) ensure that there is sufficient funding + to establish at least 1 qualified nonprofit health + insurance + +[[Page 124 STAT. 188]] + + issuer in each State, except that nothing in this + clause shall prohibit the Secretary from funding + the establishment of multiple qualified nonprofit + health insurance issuers in any State if the + funding is sufficient to do so. + (B) States without issuers in program.--If no health + insurance issuer applies to be a qualified nonprofit + health insurance issuer within a State, the Secretary + may use amounts appropriated under this section for the + awarding of grants to encourage the establishment of a + qualified nonprofit health insurance issuer within the + State or the expansion of a qualified nonprofit health + insurance issuer from another State to the State. + (C) Agreement.-- + (i) In general.--The Secretary shall require + any person receiving a loan or grant under the CO- + OP program to enter into an agreement with the + Secretary which requires such person to meet (and + to continue to meet)-- + (I) any requirement under this + section for such person to be treated as + a qualified nonprofit health insurance + issuer; and + (II) any requirements contained in + the agreement for such person to receive + such loan or grant. + (ii) Restrictions on use of federal funds.-- + The agreement shall include a requirement that no + portion of the funds made available by any loan or + grant under this section may be used-- + (I) <> for carrying + on propaganda, or otherwise attempting, + to influence legislation; or + (II) for marketing. + Nothing in this clause shall be construed to allow + a person to take any action prohibited by section + 501(c)(29) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986. + (iii) Failure to meet + requirements <> .-- + If the Secretary determines that a person has + failed to meet any requirement described in clause + (i) or (ii) and has failed to correct such failure + within a reasonable period of time of when the + person first knows (or reasonably should have + known) of such failure, such person shall repay to + the Secretary an amount equal to the sum of-- + (I) 110 percent of the aggregate + amount of loans and grants received + under this section; plus + (II) interest on the aggregate + amount of loans and grants received + under this section for the period the + loans or grants were outstanding. + <> The Secretary shall notify + the Secretary of the Treasury of any determination + under this section of a failure that results in + the termination of an issuer's tax-exempt status + under section 501(c)(29) of such Code. + (D) Time for awarding loans and + grants. <> --The Secretary shall not + later than July 1, 2013, award the loans and grants + under the CO-OP program and begin the distribution of + amounts awarded under such loans and grants. + (3) <> Advisory board.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 189]] + + (A) In general.--The advisory board under this + paragraph shall consist of 15 members appointed by the + Comptroller General of the United States from among + individuals with qualifications described in section + 1805(c)(2) of the Social Security Act. + (B) Rules relating to appointments.-- + (i) Standards.--Any individual appointed under + subparagraph (A) shall meet ethics and conflict of + interest standards protecting against insurance + industry involvement and interference. + (ii) Original + appointments. <> --The original + appointment of board members under subparagraph + (A)(ii) shall be made no later than 3 months after + the date of enactment of this Act. + (C) Vacancy.--Any vacancy on the advisory board + shall be filled in the same manner as the original + appointment. + (D) Pay and reimbursement.-- + (i) No compensation for members of advisory + board.--Except as provided in clause (ii), a + member of the advisory board may not receive pay, + allowances, or benefits by reason of their service + on the board. + (ii) Travel expenses.--Each member shall + receive travel expenses, including per diem in + lieu of subsistence under subchapter I of chapter + 57 of title 5, United States Code. + (E) Application of faca.--The Federal Advisory + Committee Act (5 U.S.C. App.) shall apply to the + advisory board, except that section 14 of such Act shall + not apply. + (F) Termination.--The advisory board shall terminate + on the earlier of the date that it completes its duties + under this section or December 31, 2015. + + (c) Qualified Nonprofit Health Insurance Issuer.--For purposes of +this section-- + (1) In general.-- <> The term ``qualified + nonprofit health insurance issuer'' means a health insurance + issuer that is an organization-- + (A) that is organized under State law as a + nonprofit, member corporation; + (B) substantially all of the activities of which + consist of the issuance of qualified health plans in the + individual and small group markets in each State in + which it is licensed to issue such plans; and + (C) that meets the other requirements of this + subsection. + (2) Certain organizations prohibited.--An organization shall + not be treated as a qualified nonprofit health insurance issuer + if-- + (A) the organization or a related entity (or any + predecessor of either) was a health insurance issuer on + July 16, 2009; or + (B) the organization is sponsored by a State or + local government, any political subdivision thereof, or + any instrumentality of such government or political + subdivision. + (3) Governance requirements.--An organization shall not be + treated as a qualified nonprofit health insurance issuer + unless-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 190]] + + (A) the governance of the organization is subject to + a majority vote of its members; + (B) its governing documents incorporate ethics and + conflict of interest standards protecting against + insurance industry involvement and interference; and + (C) as provided in regulations promulgated by the + Secretary, the organization is required to operate with + a strong consumer focus, including timeliness, + responsiveness, and accountability to members. + (4) Profits inure to benefit of members.--An organization + shall not be treated as a qualified nonprofit health insurance + issuer unless any profits made by the organization are required + to be used to lower premiums, to improve benefits, or for other + programs intended to improve the quality of health care + delivered to its members. + (5) Compliance with state insurance laws.--An organization + shall not be treated as a qualified nonprofit health insurance + issuer unless the organization meets all the requirements that + other issuers of qualified health plans are required to meet in + any State where the issuer offers a qualified health plan, + including solvency and licensure requirements, rules on payments + to providers, and compliance with network adequacy rules, rate + and form filing rules, any applicable State premium assessments + and any other State law described in section 1324(b). + (6) Coordination with state insurance reforms.--An + organization shall not be treated as a qualified nonprofit + health insurance issuer unless the organization does not offer a + health plan in a State until that State has in effect (or the + Secretary has implemented for the State) the market reforms + required by part A of title XXVII of the Public Health Service + Act (as amended by subtitles A and C of this Act). + + (d) Establishment of Private Purchasing Council.-- + (1) In general.--Qualified nonprofit health insurance + issuers participating in the CO-OP program under this section + may establish a private purchasing council to enter into + collective purchasing arrangements for items and services that + increase administrative and other cost efficiencies, including + claims administration, administrative services, health + information technology, and actuarial services. + (2) Council may not set payment rates.--The private + purchasing council established under paragraph (1) shall not set + payment rates for health care facilities or providers + participating in health insurance coverage provided by qualified + nonprofit health insurance issuers. + (3) Continued application of antitrust laws.-- + (A) In general.--Nothing in this section shall be + construed to limit the application of the antitrust laws + to any private purchasing council (whether or not + established under this subsection) or to any qualified + nonprofit health insurance issuer participating in such + a council. + (B) Antitrust laws.--For purposes of this + subparagraph, the term ``antitrust laws'' has the + meaning given the term in subsection (a) of the first + section of the Clayton Act (15 U.S.C. 12(a)). Such term + also includes section 5 of the Federal Trade Commission + Act (15 U.S.C. 45) to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 191]] + + the extent that such section 5 applies to unfair methods + of competition. + + (e) Limitation on Participation.--No representative of any Federal, +State, or local government (or of any political subdivision or +instrumentality thereof), and no representative of a person described in +subsection (c)(2)(A), may serve on the board of directors of a qualified +nonprofit health insurance issuer or with a private purchasing council +established under subsection (d). + (f) Limitations on Secretary.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary shall not-- + (A) participate in any negotiations between 1 or + more qualified nonprofit health insurance issuers (or a + private purchasing council established under subsection + (d)) and any health care facilities or providers, + including any drug manufacturer, pharmacy, or hospital; + and + (B) establish or maintain a price structure for + reimbursement of any health benefits covered by such + issuers. + (2) Competition.--Nothing in this section shall be construed + as authorizing the Secretary to interfere with the competitive + nature of providing health benefits through qualified nonprofit + health insurance issuers. + + (g) Appropriations.--There are hereby appropriated, out of any funds +in the Treasury not otherwise appropriated, $6,000,000,000 to carry out +this section. + (h) Tax Exemption for Qualified Nonprofit Health Insurance Issuer.-- + (1) In general.--Section 501(c) of the Internal Revenue Code + of 1986 <> (relating to list of exempt + organizations) is amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(29) CO-OP health insurance issuers.-- + ``(A) In general.--A qualified nonprofit health + insurance issuer (within the meaning of section 1322 of + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act) which + has received a loan or grant under the CO-OP program + under such section, but only with respect to periods for + which the issuer is in compliance with the requirements + of such section and any agreement with respect to the + loan or grant. + ``(B) Conditions for + exemption <> .--Subparagraph (A) + shall apply to an organization only if-- + ``(i) <> the organization has + given notice to the Secretary, in such manner as + the Secretary may by regulations prescribe, that + it is applying for recognition of its status under + this paragraph, + ``(ii) except as provided in section + 1322(c)(4) of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act, no part of the net earnings + of which inures to the benefit of any private + shareholder or individual, + ``(iii) <> no substantial + part of the activities of which is carrying on + propaganda, or otherwise attempting, to influence + legislation, and + ``(iv) the organization does not participate + in, or intervene in (including the publishing or + distributing of statements), any political + campaign on behalf of (or in opposition to) any + candidate for public office.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 192]] + + (2) Additional reporting requirement.--Section 6033 of such + Code (relating to returns by exempt organizations) is amended by + redesignating subsection (m) as subsection (n) and by inserting + after subsection (l) the following: + + ``(m) Additional Information Required From CO-OP Insurers.--An +organization described in section 501(c)(29) shall include on the return +required under subsection (a) the following information: + ``(1) The amount of the reserves required by each State in + which the organization is licensed to issue qualified health + plans. + ``(2) The amount of reserves on hand.''. + (3) Application of tax on excess benefit transactions.-- + Section 4958(e)(1) of such Code (defining applicable tax-exempt + organization) is amended by striking ``paragraph (3) or (4)'' + and inserting ``paragraph (3), (4), or (29)''. + + (i) GAO Study and Report.-- + (1) Study.--The Comptroller General of the General + Accountability Office shall conduct an ongoing study on + competition and market concentration in the health insurance + market in the United States after the implementation of the + reforms in such market under the provisions of, and the + amendments made by, this Act. Such study shall include an + analysis of new issuers of health insurance in such market. + (2) Report.-- <> The Comptroller + General shall, not later than December 31 of each even-numbered + year (beginning with 2014), report to the appropriate committees + of the Congress the results of the study conducted under + paragraph (1), including any recommendations for administrative + or legislative changes the Comptroller General determines + necessary or appropriate to increase competition in the health + insurance market. + +SEC. 1323. <> COMMUNITY HEALTH INSURANCE OPTION. + + (a) Voluntary Nature.-- + (1) No requirement for health care providers to + participate.--Nothing in this section shall be construed to + require a health care provider to participate in a community + health insurance option, or to impose any penalty for non- + participation. + (2) No requirement for individuals to join.--Nothing in this + section shall be construed to require an individual to + participate in a community health insurance option, or to impose + any penalty for non-participation. + (3) State opt out.-- + (A) In general.--A State may elect to prohibit + Exchanges in such State from offering a community health + insurance option if such State enacts a law to provide + for such prohibition. + (B) Termination of opt out.--A State may repeal a + law described in subparagraph (A) and provide for the + offering of such an option through the Exchange. + + (b) Establishment of Community Health Insurance Option.-- + (1) Establishment.--The Secretary shall establish a + community health insurance option to offer, through the + Exchanges established under this title (other than Exchanges + +[[Page 124 STAT. 193]] + + in States that elect to opt out as provided for in subsection + (a)(3)), health care coverage that provides value, choice, + competition, and stability of affordable, high quality coverage + throughout the United States. + (2) Community health insurance option.-- + <> In this section, the term ``community + health insurance option'' means health insurance coverage that-- + (A) except as specifically provided for in this + section, complies with the requirements for being a + qualified health plan; + (B) provides high value for the premium charged; + (C) reduces administrative costs and promotes + administrative simplification for beneficiaries; + (D) promotes high quality clinical care; + (E) provides high quality customer service to + beneficiaries; + (F) offers a sufficient choice of providers; and + (G) complies with State laws (if any), except as + otherwise provided for in this title, relating to the + laws described in section 1324(b). + (3) Essential health benefits.-- + (A) General rule.--Except as provided in + subparagraph (B), a community health insurance option + offered under this section shall provide coverage only + for the essential health benefits described in section + 1302(b). + (B) States may offer additional benefits.--Nothing + in this section shall preclude a State from requiring + that benefits in addition to the essential health + benefits required under subparagraph (A) be provided to + enrollees of a community health insurance option offered + in such State. + (C) Credits.-- + (i) In general.--An individual enrolled in a + community health insurance option under this + section shall be eligible for credits under + section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 + in the same manner as an individual who is + enrolled in a qualified health plan. + (ii) No additional federal cost.--A + requirement by a State under subparagraph (B) that + benefits in addition to the essential health + benefits required under subparagraph (A) be + provided to enrollees of a community health + insurance option shall not affect the amount of a + premium tax credit provided under section 36B of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 with respect to + such plan. + (D) State must assume cost <> .--A + State shall make payments to or on behalf of an eligible + individual to defray the cost of any additional benefits + described in subparagraph (B). + (E) Ensuring access to all services.--Nothing in + this Act shall prohibit an individual enrolled in a + community health insurance option from paying out-of- + pocket the full cost of any item or service not included + as an essential health benefit or otherwise covered as a + benefit by a health plan. Nothing in subparagraph (B) + shall prohibit any type of medical provider from + accepting an out-of-pocket payment from an individual + enrolled in a community health + +[[Page 124 STAT. 194]] + + insurance option for a service otherwise not included as + an essential health benefit. + (F) Protecting access to end of life care.--A + community health insurance option offered under this + section shall be prohibited from limiting access to end + of life care. + (4) Cost sharing.--A community health insurance option shall + offer coverage at each of the levels of coverage described in + section 1302(d). + (5) Premiums.-- + (A) Premiums sufficient to cover costs.--The + Secretary shall establish geographically adjusted + premium rates in an amount sufficient to cover expected + costs (including claims and administrative costs) using + methods in general use by qualified health plans. + (B) Applicable rules.--The provisions of title XXVII + of the Public Health Service Act relating to premiums + shall apply to community health insurance options under + this section, including modified community rating + provisions under section 2701 of such Act. + (C) Collection of data.--The Secretary shall collect + data as necessary to set premium rates under + subparagraph (A). + (D) National pooling.--Notwithstanding any other + provision of law, the Secretary may treat all enrollees + in community health insurance options as members of a + single pool. + (E) Contingency margin.--In establishing premium + rates under subparagraph (A), the Secretary shall + include an appropriate amount for a contingency margin. + (6) Reimbursement rates.-- + (A) Negotiated rates.--The Secretary shall negotiate + rates for the reimbursement of health care providers for + benefits covered under a community health insurance + option. + (B) Limitation.--The rates described in subparagraph + (A) shall not be higher, in aggregate, than the average + reimbursement rates paid by health insurance issuers + offering qualified health plans through the Exchange. + (C) Innovation.--Subject to the limits contained in + subparagraph (A), a State Advisory Council established + or designated under subsection (d) may develop or + encourage the use of innovative payment policies that + promote quality, efficiency and savings to consumers. + (7) Solvency and consumer protection.-- + (A) <> Solvency.--The Secretary + shall establish a Federal solvency standard to be + applied with respect to a community health insurance + option. A community health insurance option shall also + be subject to the solvency standard of each State in + which such community health insurance option is offered. + (B) Minimum required.--In establishing the standard + described under subparagraph (A), the Secretary shall + require a reserve fund that shall be equal to at least + the dollar value of the incurred but not reported claims + of a community health insurance option. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 195]] + + (C) Consumer + protections <> .--The consumer + protection laws of a State shall apply to a community + health insurance option. + (8) Requirements established in partnership with insurance + commissioners.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary, in collaboration + with the National Association of Insurance Commissioners + (in this paragraph referred to as the ``NAIC''), may + promulgate regulations to establish additional + requirements for a community health insurance option. + (B) Applicability <> .--Any + requirement promulgated under subparagraph (A) shall be + applicable to such option beginning 90 days after the + date on which the regulation involved becomes final. + + (c) Start-up Fund.-- + (1) Establishment of fund.-- + (A) In general.--There is established in the + Treasury of the United States a trust fund to be known + as the ``Health Benefit Plan Start-Up Fund'' (referred + to in this section as the ``Start-Up Fund''), that shall + consist of such amounts as may be appropriated or + credited to the Start-Up Fund as provided for in this + subsection to provide loans for the initial operations + of a community health insurance option. Such amounts + shall remain available until expended. + (B) Funding.--There is hereby appropriated to the + Start-Up Fund, out of any moneys in the Treasury not + otherwise appropriated an amount requested by the + Secretary of Health and Human Services as necessary to-- + (i) pay the start-up costs associated with the + initial operations of a community health insurance + option; and + (ii) pay the costs of making payments on + claims submitted during the period that is not + more than 90 days from the date on which such + option is offered. + (2) Use of start-up fund.--The Secretary shall use amounts + contained in the Start-Up Fund to make payments (subject to the + repayment requirements in paragraph (4)) for the purposes + described in paragraph (1)(B). + (3) Pass through of rebates.--The Secretary may establish + procedures for reducing the amount of payments to a contracting + administrator to take into account any rebates or price + concessions. + (4) Repayment.-- + (A) <> In general.--A community + health insurance option shall be required to repay the + Secretary of the Treasury (on such terms as the + Secretary may require) for any payments made under + paragraph (1)(B) by the date that is not later than 9 + years after the date on which the payment is made. The + Secretary may require the payment of interest with + respect to such repayments at rates that do not exceed + the market interest rate (as determined by the + Secretary). + (B) Sanctions in case of for-profit conversion.--In + any case in which the Secretary enters into a contract + with a qualified entity for the offering of a community + health insurance option and such entity is determined to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 196]] + + be a for-profit entity by the Secretary, such entity + shall be-- + (i) immediately liable to the Secretary for + any payments received by such entity from the + Start-Up Fund; and + (ii) permanently ineligible to offer a + qualified health plan. + + (d) State Advisory Council.-- + (1) Establishment.--A State (other than a State that elects + to opt out as provided for in subsection (a)(3)) shall establish + or designate a public or non-profit private entity to serve as + the State Advisory Council to provide recommendations to the + Secretary on the operations and policies of a community health + insurance option in the State. Such Council shall provide + recommendations on at least the following: + (A) policies and procedures to integrate quality + improvement and cost containment mechanisms into the + health care delivery system; + (B) mechanisms to facilitate public awareness of the + availability of a community health insurance option; and + (C) alternative payment structures under a community + health insurance option for health care providers that + encourage quality improvement and cost control. + (2) Members.--The members of the State Advisory Council + shall be representatives of the public and shall include health + care consumers and providers. + (3) Applicability of recommendations.--The Secretary may + apply the recommendations of a State Advisory Council to a + community health insurance option in that State, in any other + State, or in all States. + + (e) Authority To Contract; Terms of Contract.-- + (1) Authority.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary may enter into a + contract or contracts with one or more qualified + entities for the purpose of performing administrative + functions (including functions described in subsection + (a)(4) of section 1874A of the Social Security Act) with + respect to a community health insurance option in the + same manner as the Secretary may enter into contracts + under subsection (a)(1) of such section. The Secretary + shall have the same authority with respect to a + community health insurance option under this section as + the Secretary has under subsections (a)(1) and (b) of + section 1874A of the Social Security Act with respect to + title XVIII of such Act. + (B) Requirements apply.--If the Secretary enters + into a contract with a qualified entity to offer a + community health insurance option, under such contract + such entity-- + (i) shall meet the criteria established under + paragraph (2); and + (ii) <> shall receive an + administrative fee under paragraph (7). + (C) Limitation.--Contracts under this subsection + shall not involve the transfer of insurance risk to the + contracting administrator. + (D) Reference.--An entity with which the Secretary + has entered into a contract under this paragraph shall + be referred to as a ``contracting administrator''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 197]] + + (2) Qualified entity.--To be qualified to be selected by the + Secretary to offer a community health insurance option, an + entity shall-- + (A) meet the criteria established under section + 1874A(a)(2) of the Social Security Act; + (B) be a nonprofit entity for purposes of offering + such option; + (C) meet the solvency standards applicable under + subsection (b)(7); + (D) be eligible to offer health insurance or health + benefits coverage; + (E) meet quality standards specified by the + Secretary; + (F) have in place effective procedures to control + fraud, abuse, and waste; and + (G) meet such other requirements as the Secretary + may impose. + Procedures described under subparagraph (F) shall include the + implementation of procedures to use beneficiary identifiers to + identify individuals entitled to benefits so that such an + individual's social security account number is not used, and + shall also include procedures for the use of technology + (including front-end, prepayment intelligent data-matching + technology similar to that used by hedge funds, investment + funds, and banks) to provide real-time data analysis of claims + for payment under this title to identify and investigate unusual + billing or order practices under this title that could indicate + fraud or abuse. + (3) Term.--A contract provided for under paragraph (1) shall + be for a term of at least 5 years but not more than 10 years, as + determined by the Secretary. At the end of each such term, the + Secretary shall conduct a competitive bidding process for the + purposes of renewing existing contracts or selecting new + qualified entities with which to enter into contracts under such + paragraph. + (4) <> Limitation.--A contract may + not be renewed under this subsection unless the Secretary + determines that the contracting administrator has met + performance requirements established by the Secretary in the + areas described in paragraph (7)(B). + (5) Audits.--The Inspector General shall conduct periodic + audits with respect to contracting administrators under this + subsection to ensure that the administrator involved is in + compliance with this section. + (6) Revocation.-- <> A contract awarded + under this subsection shall be revoked by the Secretary, upon + the recommendation of the Inspector General, only after notice + to the contracting administrator involved and an opportunity for + a hearing. The Secretary may revoke such contract if the + Secretary determines that such administrator has engaged in + fraud, deception, waste, abuse of power, negligence, + mismanagement of taxpayer dollars, or gross mismanagement. An + entity that has had a contract revoked under this paragraph + shall not be qualified to enter into a subsequent contract under + this subsection. + (7) Fee for administration.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary shall pay the + contracting administrator a fee for the management, + administration, and delivery of the benefits under this + section. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 198]] + + (B) Requirement for high quality administration.-- + The Secretary may increase the fee described in + subparagraph (A) by not more than 10 percent, or reduce + the fee described in subparagraph (A) by not more than + 50 percent, based on the extent to which the contracting + administrator, in the determination of the Secretary, + meets performance requirements established by the + Secretary, in at least the following areas: + (i) Maintaining low premium costs and low cost + sharing requirements, provided that such + requirements are consistent with section 1302. + (ii) Reducing administrative costs and + promoting administrative simplification for + beneficiaries. + (iii) Promoting high quality clinical care. + (iv) Providing high quality customer service + to beneficiaries. + (C) Non-renewal.--The Secretary may not renew a + contract to offer a community health insurance option + under this section with any contracting entity that has + been assessed more than one reduction under subparagraph + (B) during the contract period. + (8) Limitation.--Notwithstanding the terms of a contract + under this subsection, the Secretary shall negotiate the + reimbursement rates for purposes of subsection (b)(6). + + (f) Report by HHS and Insolvency Warnings.-- + (1) In general.--On an annual basis, the Secretary shall + conduct a study on the solvency of a community health insurance + option and submit to Congress a report describing the results of + such study. + (2) Result.--If, in any year, the result of the study under + paragraph (1) is that a community health insurance option is + insolvent, such result shall be treated as a community health + insurance option solvency warning. + (3) Submission of plan and procedure.-- + (A) In general <> .--If + there is a community health insurance option solvency + warning under paragraph (2) made in a year, the + President shall submit to Congress, within the 15-day + period beginning on the date of the budget submission to + Congress under section 1105(a) of title 31, United + States Code, for the succeeding year, proposed + legislation to respond to such warning. + (B) Procedure.--In the case of a legislative + proposal submitted by the President pursuant to + subparagraph (A), such proposal shall be considered by + Congress using the same procedures described under + sections 803 and 804 of the Medicare Prescription Drug, + Improvement, and Modernization Act of 2003 that shall be + used for a medicare funding warning. + + (g) Marketing Parity.--In a facility controlled by the Federal +Government, or by a State, where marketing or promotional materials +related to a community health insurance option are made available to the +public, making available marketing or promotional materials relating to +private health insurance plans shall not be prohibited. Such materials +include informational pamphlets, guidebooks, enrollment forms, or other +materials determined reasonable for display. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 199]] + + (h) Authorization of Appropriations.--There is authorized to be +appropriated such sums as may be necessary to carry out this section. + +SEC. 1324. <> LEVEL PLAYING FIELD. + + (a) In General.--Notwithstanding any other provision of law, any +health insurance coverage offered by a private health insurance issuer +shall not be subject to any Federal or State law described in subsection +(b) if a qualified health plan offered under the Consumer Operated and +Oriented Plan program under section 1322, a community health insurance +option under section 1323, or a nationwide qualified health plan under +section 1333(b), is not subject to such law. + (b) Laws Described.--The Federal and State laws described in this +subsection are those Federal and State laws relating to-- + (1) guaranteed renewal; + (2) rating; + (3) preexisting conditions; + (4) non-discrimination; + (5) quality improvement and reporting; + (6) fraud and abuse; + (7) solvency and financial requirements; + (8) market conduct; + (9) prompt payment; + (10) appeals and grievances; + (11) privacy and confidentiality; + (12) licensure; and + (13) benefit plan material or information. + + PART IV--STATE FLEXIBILITY TO ESTABLISH ALTERNATIVE PROGRAMS + +SEC. 1331. <> STATE FLEXIBILITY TO ESTABLISH BASIC + HEALTH PROGRAMS FOR LOW-INCOME INDIVIDUALS NOT ELIGIBLE FOR + MEDICAID. + + (a) Establishment of Program.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary shall establish a basic + health program meeting the requirements of this section under + which a State may enter into contracts to offer 1 or more + standard health plans providing at least the essential health + benefits described in section 1302(b) to eligible individuals in + lieu of offering such individuals coverage through an Exchange. + (2) Certifications as to benefit coverage and costs.--Such + program shall provide that a State may not establish a basic + health program under this section unless the State establishes + to the satisfaction of the Secretary, and the Secretary + certifies, that-- + (A) in the case of an eligible individual enrolled + in a standard health plan offered through the program, + the State provides-- + (i) that the amount of the monthly premium an + eligible individual is required to pay for + coverage under the standard health plan for the + individual and the individual's dependents does + not exceed the amount of the monthly premium that + the eligible individual would have been required + to pay (in the rating area in which the individual + resides) if the individual had + +[[Page 124 STAT. 200]] + + enrolled in the applicable second lowest cost + silver plan (as defined in section 36B(b)(3)(B) of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986) offered to the + individual through an Exchange; and + (ii) that the cost-sharing an eligible + individual is required to pay under the standard + health plan does not exceed-- + (I) the cost-sharing required under + a platinum plan in the case of an + eligible individual with household + income not in excess of 150 percent of + the poverty line for the size of the + family involved; and + (II) the cost-sharing required under + a gold plan in the case of an eligible + individual not described in subclause + (I); and + (B) the benefits provided under the standard health + plans offered through the program cover at least the + essential health benefits described in section 1302(b). + For purposes of subparagraph (A)(i), the amount of the monthly + premium an individual is required to pay under either the + standard health plan or the applicable second lowest cost silver + plan shall be determined after reduction for any premium tax + credits and cost-sharing reductions allowable with respect to + either plan. + + (b) Standard Health Plan. <> --In this section, +the term ``standard heath plan'' means a health benefits plan that the +State contracts with under this section-- + (1) under which the only individuals eligible to enroll are + eligible individuals; + (2) that provides at least the essential health benefits + described in section 1302(b); and + (3) in the case of a plan that provides health insurance + coverage offered by a health insurance issuer, that has a + medical loss ratio of at least 85 percent. + + (c) Contracting Process.-- + (1) In general.--A State basic health program shall + establish a competitive process for entering into contracts with + standard health plans under subsection (a), including + negotiation of premiums and cost-sharing and negotiation of + benefits in addition to the essential health benefits described + in section 1302(b). + (2) Specific items to be considered.--A State shall, as part + of its competitive process under paragraph (1), include at least + the following: + (A) Innovation.--Negotiation with offerors of a + standard health plan for the inclusion of innovative + features in the plan, including-- + (i) care coordination and care management for + enrollees, especially for those with chronic + health conditions; + (ii) incentives for use of preventive + services; and + (iii) the establishment of relationships + between providers and patients that maximize + patient involvement in health care decision- + making, including providing incentives for + appropriate utilization under the plan. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 201]] + + (B) Health and resource differences.--Consideration + of, and the making of suitable allowances for, + differences in health care needs of enrollees and + differences in local availability of, and access to, + health care providers. Nothing in this subparagraph + shall be construed as allowing discrimination on the + basis of pre-existing conditions or other health status- + related factors. + (C) Managed care.--Contracting with managed care + systems, or with systems that offer as many of the + attributes of managed care as are feasible in the local + health care market. + (D) Performance measures.--Establishing specific + performance measures and standards for issuers of + standard health plans that focus on quality of care and + improved health outcomes, requiring such plans to report + to the State with respect to the measures and standards, + and making the performance and quality information + available to enrollees in a useful form. + (3) Enhanced availability.-- + (A) Multiple plans.--A State shall, to the maximum + extent feasible, seek to make multiple standard health + plans available to eligible individuals within a State + to ensure individuals have a choice of such plans. + (B) Regional compacts.--A State may negotiate a + regional compact with other States to include coverage + of eligible individuals in all such States in agreements + with issuers of standard health plans. + (4) Coordination with other state programs.--A State shall + seek to coordinate the administration of, and provision of + benefits under, its program under this section with the State + medicaid program under title XIX of the Social Security Act, the + State child health plan under title XXI of such Act, and other + State-administered health programs to maximize the efficiency of + such programs and to improve the continuity of care. + + (d) Transfer of Funds to States.-- + (1) <> In general.--If the Secretary + determines that a State electing the application of this section + meets the requirements of the program established under + subsection (a), the Secretary shall transfer to the State for + each fiscal year for which 1 or more standard health plans are + operating within the State the amount determined under paragraph + (3). + (2) Use of funds.--A State shall establish a trust for the + deposit of the amounts received under paragraph (1) and amounts + in the trust fund shall only be used to reduce the premiums and + cost-sharing of, or to provide additional benefits for, eligible + individuals enrolled in standard health plans within the State. + Amounts in the trust fund, and expenditures of such amounts, + shall not be included in determining the amount of any non- + Federal funds for purposes of meeting any matching or + expenditure requirement of any federally-funded program. + (3) Amount of payment.-- + (A) Secretarial determination.-- + (i) In general.--The amount determined under + this paragraph for any fiscal year is the amount + the Secretary determines is equal to 85 percent of + the premium tax credits under section 36B of the + Internal + +[[Page 124 STAT. 202]] + + Revenue Code of 1986, and the cost-sharing + reductions under section 1402, that would have + been provided for the fiscal year to eligible + individuals enrolled in standard health plans in + the State if such eligible individuals were + allowed to enroll in qualified health plans + through an Exchange established under this + subtitle. + (ii) Specific requirements.--The Secretary + shall make the determination under clause (i) on a + per enrollee basis and shall take into account all + relevant factors necessary to determine the value + of the premium tax credits and cost-sharing + reductions that would have been provided to + eligible individuals described in clause (i), + including the age and income of the enrollee, + whether the enrollment is for self-only or family + coverage, geographic differences in average + spending for health care across rating areas, the + health status of the enrollee for purposes of + determining risk adjustment payments and + reinsurance payments that would have been made if + the enrollee had enrolled in a qualified health + plan through an Exchange, and whether any + reconciliation of the credit or cost-sharing + reductions would have occurred if the enrollee had + been so enrolled. This determination shall take + into consideration the experience of other States + with respect to participation in an Exchange and + such credits and reductions provided to residents + of the other States, with a special focus on + enrollees with income below 200 percent of + poverty. + (iii) Certification.--The Chief Actuary of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, in + consultation with the Office of Tax Analysis of + the Department of the Treasury, shall certify + whether the methodology used to make + determinations under this subparagraph, and such + determinations, meet the requirements of clause + (ii). Such certifications shall be based on + sufficient data from the State and from comparable + States about their experience with programs + created by this Act. + (B) Corrections.--The Secretary shall adjust the + payment for any fiscal year to reflect any error in the + determinations under subparagraph (A) for any preceding + fiscal year. + (4) Application of special rules.--The provisions of section + 1303 shall apply to a State basic health program, and to + standard health plans offered through such program, in the same + manner as such rules apply to qualified health plans. + + (e) Eligible Individual.-- + (1) <> In general.--In this section, the + term ``eligible individual'' means, with respect to any State, + an individual-- + (A) who a resident of the State who is not eligible + to enroll in the State's medicaid program under title + XIX of the Social Security Act for benefits that at a + minimum consist of the essential health benefits + described in section 1302(b); + +[[Page 124 STAT. 203]] + + (B) whose household income exceeds 133 percent but + does not exceed 200 percent of the poverty line for the + size of the family involved; + (C) who is not eligible for minimum essential + coverage (as defined in section 5000A(f) of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986) or is eligible for an employer- + sponsored plan that is not affordable coverage (as + determined under section 5000A(e)(2) of such Code); and + (D) who has not attained age 65 as of the beginning + of the plan year. + Such term shall not include any individual who is not a + qualified individual under section 1312 who is eligible to be + covered by a qualified health plan offered through an Exchange. + (2) Eligible individuals may not use exchange.--An eligible + individual shall not be treated as a qualified individual under + section 1312 eligible for enrollment in a qualified health plan + offered through an Exchange established under section 1311. + + (f) Secretarial Oversight <> .--The Secretary shall +each year conduct a review of each State program to ensure compliance +with the requirements of this section, including ensuring that the State +program meets-- + (1) eligibility verification requirements for participation + in the program; + (2) the requirements for use of Federal funds received by + the program; and + (3) the quality and performance standards under this + section. + + (g) Standard Health Plan Offerors.--A State may provide that persons +eligible to offer standard health plans under a basic health program +established under this section may include a licensed health maintenance +organization, a licensed health insurance insurer, or a network of +health care providers established to offer services under the program. + (h) Definitions.--Any term used in this section which is also used +in section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 shall have the +meaning given such term by such section. + +SEC. 1332. <> WAIVER FOR STATE INNOVATION. + + (a) Application.-- + (1) <> In general.--A State may + apply to the Secretary for the waiver of all or any requirements + described in paragraph (2) with respect to health insurance + coverage within that State for plan years beginning on or after + January 1, 2017. Such application shall-- + (A) be filed at such time and in such manner as the + Secretary may require; + (B) contain such information as the Secretary may + require, including-- + (i) a comprehensive description of the State + legislation and program to implement a plan + meeting the requirements for a waiver under this + section; and + (ii) a 10-year budget plan for such plan that + is budget neutral for the Federal Government; and + (C) provide an assurance that the State has enacted + the law described in subsection (b)(2). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 204]] + + (2) Requirements.-- <> The + requirements described in this paragraph with respect to health + insurance coverage within the State for plan years beginning on + or after January 1, 2014, are as follows: + (A) Part I of subtitle D. + (B) Part II of subtitle D. + (C) Section 1402. + (D) Sections 36B, 4980H, and 5000A of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986. + (3) Pass through of funding.--With respect to a State waiver + under paragraph (1), under which, due to the structure of the + State plan, individuals and small employers in the State would + not qualify for the premium tax credits, cost-sharing + reductions, or small business credits under sections 36B of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 or under part I of subtitle E for + which they would otherwise be eligible, the Secretary shall + provide for an alternative means by which the aggregate amount + of such credits or reductions that would have been paid on + behalf of participants in the Exchanges established under this + title had the State not received such waiver, shall be paid to + the State for purposes of implementing the State plan under the + waiver. Such amount shall be determined annually by the + Secretary, taking into consideration the experience of other + States with respect to participation in an Exchange and credits + and reductions provided under such provisions to residents of + the other States. + (4) Waiver consideration and transparency.-- + (A) In general.--An application for a waiver under + this section shall be considered by the Secretary in + accordance with the regulations described in + subparagraph (B). + (B) Regulations <> .--Not later + than 180 days after the date of enactment of this Act, + the Secretary shall promulgate regulations relating to + waivers under this section that provide-- + (i) a process for public notice and comment at + the State level, including public hearings, + sufficient to ensure a meaningful level of public + input; + (ii) a process for the submission of an + application that ensures the disclosure of-- + (I) the provisions of law that the + State involved seeks to waive; and + (II) the specific plans of the State + to ensure that the waiver will be in + compliance with subsection (b); + (iii) a process for providing public notice + and comment after the application is received by + the Secretary, that is sufficient to ensure a + meaningful level of public input and that does not + impose requirements that are in addition to, or + duplicative of, requirements imposed under the + Administrative Procedures Act, or requirements + that are unreasonable or unnecessarily burdensome + with respect to State compliance; + (iv) a process for the submission to the + Secretary of periodic reports by the State + concerning the implementation of the program under + the waiver; and + (v) a process for the periodic evaluation by + the Secretary of the program under the waiver. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 205]] + + (C) Report.--The Secretary shall annually report to + Congress concerning actions taken by the Secretary with + respect to applications for waivers under this section. + (5) Coordinated waiver process.--The Secretary shall develop + a process for coordinating and consolidating the State waiver + processes applicable under the provisions of this section, and + the existing waiver processes applicable under titles XVIII, + XIX, and XXI of the Social Security Act, and any other Federal + law relating to the provision of health care items or services. + Such process shall permit a State to submit a single application + for a waiver under any or all of such provisions. + (6) Definition.--In this section, the term ``Secretary'' + means-- + (A) the Secretary of Health and Human Services with + respect to waivers relating to the provisions described + in subparagraph (A) through (C) of paragraph (2); and + (B) the Secretary of the Treasury with respect to + waivers relating to the provisions described in + paragraph (2)(D). + + (b) Granting of Waivers.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary may grant a request for a + waiver under subsection (a)(1) only if the Secretary determines + that the State plan-- + (A) will provide coverage that is at least as + comprehensive as the coverage defined in section 1302(b) + and offered through Exchanges established under this + title as certified by Office of the Actuary of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services based on + sufficient data from the State and from comparable + States about their experience with programs created by + this Act and the provisions of this Act that would be + waived; + (B) will provide coverage and cost sharing + protections against excessive out-of-pocket spending + that are at least as affordable as the provisions of + this title would provide; + (C) will provide coverage to at least a comparable + number of its residents as the provisions of this title + would provide; and + (D) will not increase the Federal deficit. + (2) Requirement to enact a law.-- + (A) In general.--A law described in this paragraph + is a State law that provides for State actions under a + waiver under this section, including the implementation + of the State plan under subsection (a)(1)(B). + (B) Termination of opt out.--A State may repeal a + law described in subparagraph (A) and terminate the + authority provided under the waiver with respect to the + State. + + (c) Scope of Waiver.-- + (1) <> In general.--The Secretary + shall determine the scope of a waiver of a requirement described + in subsection (a)(2) granted to a State under subsection (a)(1). + (2) Limitation.--The Secretary may not waive under this + section any Federal law or requirement that is not within the + authority of the Secretary. + + (d) Determinations by Secretary.-- + (1) Time for determination.-- <> The + Secretary shall make a determination under subsection (a)(1) not + later than 180 + +[[Page 124 STAT. 206]] + + days after the receipt of an application from a State under such + subsection. + (2) Effect of determination.-- <> + (A) Granting of waivers.--If the Secretary + determines to grant a waiver under subsection (a)(1), + the Secretary shall notify the State involved of such + determination and the terms and effectiveness of such + waiver. + (B) Denial of waiver.--If the Secretary determines a + waiver should not be granted under subsection (a)(1), + the Secretary shall notify the State involved, and the + appropriate committees of Congress of such determination + and the reasons therefore. + + (e) <> Term of Waiver.--No waiver +under this section may extend over a period of longer than 5 years +unless the State requests continuation of such waiver, and such request +shall be deemed granted unless the Secretary, within 90 days after the +date of its submission to the Secretary, either denies such request in +writing or informs the State in writing with respect to any additional +information which is needed in order to make a final determination with +respect to the request. + +SEC. 1333. <> PROVISIONS RELATING TO OFFERING OF + PLANS IN MORE THAN ONE STATE. + + (a) Health Care Choice Compacts.-- + (1) In general.-- <> Not later + than July 1, 2013, the Secretary shall, in consultation with the + National Association of Insurance Commissioners, issue + regulations for the creation of health care choice compacts + under which 2 or more States may enter into an agreement under + which-- + (A) 1 or more qualified health plans could be + offered in the individual markets in all such States + but, except as provided in subparagraph (B), only be + subject to the laws and regulations of the State in + which the plan was written or issued; + (B) the issuer of any qualified health plan to which + the compact applies-- + (i) would continue to be subject to market + conduct, unfair trade practices, network adequacy, + and consumer protection standards (including + standards relating to rating), including + addressing disputes as to the performance of the + contract, of the State in which the purchaser + resides; + (ii) would be required to be licensed in each + State in which it offers the plan under the + compact or to submit to the jurisdiction of each + such State with regard to the standards described + in clause (i) (including allowing access to + records as if the insurer were licensed in the + State); and + (iii) <> must clearly + notify consumers that the policy may not be + subject to all the laws and regulations of the + State in which the purchaser resides. + (2) State authority.--A State may not enter into an + agreement under this subsection unless the State enacts a law + after the date of the enactment of this title that specifically + authorizes the State to enter into such agreements. + (3) Approval of compacts.--The Secretary may approve + interstate health care choice compacts under paragraph (1) + +[[Page 124 STAT. 207]] + + only if the Secretary determines that such health care choice + compact-- + (A) will provide coverage that is at least as + comprehensive as the coverage defined in section 1302(b) + and offered through Exchanges established under this + title; + (B) will provide coverage and cost sharing + protections against excessive out-of-pocket spending + that are at least as affordable as the provisions of + this title would provide; + (C) will provide coverage to at least a comparable + number of its residents as the provisions of this title + would provide; + (D) will not increase the Federal deficit; and + (E) will not weaken enforcement of laws and + regulations described in paragraph (1)(B)(i) in any + State that is included in such compact. + (4) Effective date.--A health care choice compact described + in paragraph (1) shall not take effect before January 1, 2016. + + (b) Authority for Nationwide Plans.-- + (1) In general.--Except as provided in paragraph (2), if an + issuer (including a group of health insurance issuers affiliated + either by common ownership and control or by the common use of a + nationally licensed service mark) of a qualified health plan in + the individual or small group market meets the requirements of + this subsection (in this subsection a ``nationwide qualified + health plan'')-- + (A) the issuer of the plan may offer the nationwide + qualified health plan in the individual or small group + market in more than 1 State; and + (B) <> with respect to State + laws mandating benefit coverage by a health plan, only + the State laws of the State in which such plan is + written or issued shall apply to the nationwide + qualified health plan. + (2) State opt-out.--A State may, by specific reference in a + law enacted after the date of enactment of this title, provide + that this subsection shall not apply to that State. Such opt-out + shall be effective until such time as the State by law revokes + it. + (3) Plan requirements.--An issuer meets the requirements of + this subsection with respect to a nationwide qualified health + plan if, in the determination of the Secretary-- + (A) the plan offers a benefits package that is + uniform in each State in which the plan is offered and + meets the requirements set forth in paragraphs (4) + through (6); + (B) the issuer is licensed in each State in which it + offers the plan and is subject to all requirements of + State law not inconsistent with this section, including + but not limited to, the standards and requirements that + a State imposes that do not prevent the application of a + requirement of part A of title XXVII of the Public + Health Service Act or a requirement of this title; + (C) the issuer meets all requirements of this title + with respect to a qualified health plan, including the + requirement to offer the silver and gold levels of the + plan in each Exchange in the State for the market in + which the plan is offered; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 208]] + + (D) the issuer determines the premiums for the plan + in any State on the basis of the rating rules in effect + in that State for the rating areas in which it is + offered; + (E) the issuer offers the nationwide qualified + health plan in at least 60 percent of the participating + States in the first year in which the plan is offered, + 65 percent of such States in the second year, 70 percent + of such States in the third year, 75 percent of such + States in the fourth year, and 80 percent of such States + in the fifth and subsequent years; + (F) the issuer shall offer the plan in participating + States across the country, in all geographic regions, + and in all States that have adopted adjusted community + rating before the date of enactment of this Act; and + (G) the issuer clearly notifies consumers that the + policy may not contain some benefits otherwise mandated + for plans in the State in which the purchaser resides + and provides a detailed statement of the benefits + offered and the benefit differences in that State, in + accordance with rules promulgated by the Secretary. + (4) <> Form review for nationwide plans.-- + Notwithstanding any contrary provision of State law, at least 3 + months before any nationwide qualified health plan is offered, + the issuer shall file all nationwide qualified health plan forms + with the regulator in each participating State in which the plan + will be offered. An issuer may appeal the disapproval of a + nationwide qualified health plan form to the Secretary. + (5) Applicable rules.--The Secretary shall, in consultation + with the National Association of Insurance Commissioners, issue + rules for the offering of nationwide qualified health plans + under this subsection. Nationwide qualified health plans may be + offered only after such rules have taken effect. + (6) Coverage.--The Secretary shall provide that the health + benefits coverage provided to an individual through a nationwide + qualified health plan under this subsection shall include at + least the essential benefits package described in section 1302. + (7) State law mandating benefit coverage by a health + benefits plan.--For the purposes of this subsection, a State law + mandating benefit coverage by a health plan is a law that + mandates health insurance coverage or the offer of health + insurance coverage for specific health services or specific + diseases. A law that mandates health insurance coverage or + reimbursement for services provided by certain classes of + providers of health care services, or a law that mandates that + certain classes of individuals must be covered as a group or as + dependents, is not a State law mandating benefit coverage by a + health benefits plan. + + PART V--REINSURANCE AND RISK ADJUSTMENT + +SEC. 1341. <> TRANSITIONAL REINSURANCE PROGRAM FOR + INDIVIDUAL AND SMALL GROUP MARKETS IN EACH STATE. + + (a) In General <> .--Each State shall, not later +than January 1, 2014-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 209]] + + (1) include in the Federal standards or State law or + regulation the State adopts and has in effect under section + 1321(b) the provisions described in subsection (b); and + (2) <> establish (or enter into a contract + with) 1 or more applicable reinsurance entities to carry out the + reinsurance program under this section. + + (b) Model Regulation.-- + (1) In general.--In establishing the Federal standards under + section 1321(a), the Secretary, in consultation with the + National Association of Insurance Commissioners (the ``NAIC''), + shall include provisions that enable States to establish and + maintain a program under which-- + (A) <> health + insurance issuers, and third party administrators on + behalf of group health plans, are required to make + payments to an applicable reinsurance entity for any + plan year beginning in the 3-year period beginning + January 1, 2014 (as specified in paragraph (3); and + (B) the applicable reinsurance entity collects + payments under subparagraph (A) and uses amounts so + collected to make reinsurance payments to health + insurance issuers described in subparagraph (A) that + cover high risk individuals in the individual market + (excluding grandfathered health plans) for any plan year + beginning in such 3-year period. + (2) High-risk individual; payment amounts.--The Secretary + shall include the following in the provisions under paragraph + (1): + (A) Determination of high-risk individuals.--The + method by which individuals will be identified as high + risk individuals for purposes of the reinsurance program + established under this section. Such method shall + provide for identification of individuals as high-risk + individuals on the basis of-- + (i) a list of at least 50 but not more than + 100 medical conditions that are identified as + high-risk conditions and that may be based on the + identification of diagnostic and procedure codes + that are indicative of individuals with pre- + existing, high-risk conditions; or + (ii) any other comparable objective method of + identification recommended by the American Academy + of Actuaries. + (B) Payment amount.--The formula for determining the + amount of payments that will be paid to health insurance + issuers described in paragraph (1)(A) that insure high- + risk individuals. Such formula shall provide for the + equitable allocation of available funds through + reconciliation and may be designed-- + (i) to provide a schedule of payments that + specifies the amount that will be paid for each of + the conditions identified under subparagraph (A); + or + (ii) to use any other comparable method for + determining payment amounts that is recommended by + the American Academy of Actuaries and that + encourages the use of care coordination and care + management programs for high risk conditions. + (3) Determination of required contributions.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 210]] + + (A) In general <> .--The Secretary shall include in the + provisions under paragraph (1) the method for + determining the amount each health insurance issuer and + group health plan described in paragraph (1)(A) + contributing to the reinsurance program under this + section is required to contribute under such paragraph + for each plan year beginning in the 36-month period + beginning January 1, 2014. The contribution amount for + any plan year may be based on the percentage of revenue + of each issuer and the total costs of providing benefits + to enrollees in self-insured plans or on a specified + amount per enrollee and may be required to be paid in + advance or periodically throughout the plan year. + (B) Specific requirements.--The method under this + paragraph shall be designed so that-- + (i) the contribution amount for each issuer + proportionally reflects each issuer's fully + insured commercial book of business for all major + medical products and the total value of all fees + charged by the issuer and the costs of coverage + administered by the issuer as a third party + administrator; + (ii) the contribution amount can include an + additional amount to fund the administrative + expenses of the applicable reinsurance entity; + (iii) the aggregate contribution amounts for + all States shall, based on the best estimates of + the NAIC and without regard to amounts described + in clause (ii), equal $10,000,000,000 for plan + years beginning in 2014, $6,000,000,000 for plan + years beginning 2015, and $4,000,000,000 for plan + years beginning in 2016; and + (iv) in addition to the aggregate contribution + amounts under clause (iii), each issuer's + contribution amount for any calendar year under + clause (iii) reflects its proportionate share of + an additional $2,000,000,000 for 2014, an + additional $2,000,000,000 for 2015, and an + additional $1,000,000,000 for 2016. + Nothing in this subparagraph shall be construed to + preclude a State from collecting additional amounts from + issuers on a voluntary basis. + (4) Expenditure of funds.--The provisions under paragraph + (1) shall provide that-- + (A) the contribution amounts collected for any + calendar year may be allocated and used in any of the + three calendar years for which amounts are collected + based on the reinsurance needs of a particular period or + to reflect experience in a prior period; and + (B) <> amounts + remaining unexpended as of December, 2016, may be used + to make payments under any reinsurance program of a + State in the individual market in effect in the 2-year + period beginning on January 1, 2017. + Notwithstanding the preceding sentence, any contribution amounts + described in paragraph (3)(B)(iv) shall be deposited into the + general fund of the Treasury of the United States and may not be + used for the program established under this section. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 211]] + + (c) Applicable Reinsurance Entity.--For purposes of this section-- + (1) In general.-- <> The term + ``applicable reinsurance entity'' means a not-for-profit + organization-- + (A) the purpose of which is to help stabilize + premiums for coverage in the individual and small group + markets in a State during the first 3 years of operation + of an Exchange for such markets within the State when + the risk of adverse selection related to new rating + rules and market changes is greatest; and + (B) the duties of which shall be to carry out the + reinsurance program under this section by coordinating + the funding and operation of the risk-spreading + mechanisms designed to implement the reinsurance + program. + (2) State discretion.--A State may have more than 1 + applicable reinsurance entity to carry out the reinsurance + program under this section within the State and 2 or more States + may enter into agreements to provide for an applicable + reinsurance entity to carry out such program in all such States. + (3) Entities are tax-exempt.--An applicable reinsurance + entity established under this section shall be exempt from + taxation under chapter 1 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986. + The preceding sentence shall not apply to the tax imposed by + section 511 such Code (relating to tax on unrelated business + taxable income of an exempt organization). + + (d) Coordination With State High-risk Pools.--The State shall +eliminate or modify any State high-risk pool to the extent necessary to +carry out the reinsurance program established under this section. The +State may coordinate the State high-risk pool with such program to the +extent not inconsistent with the provisions of this section. + +SEC. 1342. <> ESTABLISHMENT OF RISK CORRIDORS FOR + PLANS IN INDIVIDUAL AND SMALL GROUP MARKETS. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary shall establish and administer a +program of risk corridors for calendar years 2014, 2015, and 2016 under +which a qualified health plan offered in the individual or small group +market shall participate in a payment adjustment system based on the +ratio of the allowable costs of the plan to the plan's aggregate +premiums. Such program shall be based on the program for regional +participating provider organizations under part D of title XVIII of the +Social Security Act. + (b) Payment Methodology.-- + (1) Payments out.--The Secretary shall provide under the + program established under subsection (a) that if-- + (A) a participating plan's allowable costs for any + plan year are more than 103 percent but not more than + 108 percent of the target amount, the Secretary shall + pay to the plan an amount equal to 50 percent of the + target amount in excess of 103 percent of the target + amount; and + (B) a participating plan's allowable costs for any + plan year are more than 108 percent of the target + amount, the Secretary shall pay to the plan an amount + equal to the sum of 2.5 percent of the target amount + plus 80 percent of allowable costs in excess of 108 + percent of the target amount. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 212]] + + (2) Payments in.--The Secretary shall provide under the + program established under subsection (a) that if-- + (A) a participating plan's allowable costs for any + plan year are less than 97 percent but not less than 92 + percent of the target amount, the plan shall pay to the + Secretary an amount equal to 50 percent of the excess of + 97 percent of the target amount over the allowable + costs; and + (B) a participating plan's allowable costs for any + plan year are less than 92 percent of the target amount, + the plan shall pay to the Secretary an amount equal to + the sum of 2.5 percent of the target amount plus 80 + percent of the excess of 92 percent of the target amount + over the allowable costs. + + (c) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Allowable costs.-- + (A) In general.--The amount of allowable costs of a + plan for any year is an amount equal to the total costs + (other than administrative costs) of the plan in + providing benefits covered by the plan. + (B) Reduction for risk adjustment and reinsurance + payments.--Allowable costs shall reduced by any risk + adjustment and reinsurance payments received under + section 1341 and 1343. + (2) Target amount.--The target amount of a plan for any year + is an amount equal to the total premiums (including any premium + subsidies under any governmental program), reduced by the + administrative costs of the plan. + +SEC. 1343. <> RISK ADJUSTMENT. + + (a) In General.-- + (1) Low actuarial risk plans.--Using the criteria and + methods developed under subsection (b), each State shall assess + a charge on health plans and health insurance issuers (with + respect to health insurance coverage) described in subsection + (c) if the actuarial risk of the enrollees of such plans or + coverage for a year is less than the average actuarial risk of + all enrollees in all plans or coverage in such State for such + year that are not self-insured group health plans (which are + subject to the provisions of the Employee Retirement Income + Security Act of 1974). + (2) High actuarial risk plans.--Using the criteria and + methods developed under subsection (b), each State shall provide + a payment to health plans and health insurance issuers (with + respect to health insurance coverage) described in subsection + (c) if the actuarial risk of the enrollees of such plans or + coverage for a year is greater than the average actuarial risk + of all enrollees in all plans and coverage in such State for + such year that are not self-insured group health plans (which + are subject to the provisions of the Employee Retirement Income + Security Act of 1974). + + (b) Criteria and Methods.--The Secretary, in consultation with +States, shall establish criteria and methods to be used in carrying out +the risk adjustment activities under this section. The Secretary may +utilize criteria and methods similar to the criteria and methods +utilized under part C or D of title XVIII of the Social Security Act. +Such criteria and methods shall be included + +[[Page 124 STAT. 213]] + +in the standards and requirements the Secretary prescribes under section +1321. + (c) Scope.--A health plan or a health insurance issuer is described +in this subsection if such health plan or health insurance issuer +provides coverage in the individual or small group market within the +State. This subsection shall not apply to a grandfathered health plan or +the issuer of a grandfathered health plan with respect to that plan. + + Subtitle E--Affordable Coverage Choices for All Americans + + PART I--PREMIUM TAX CREDITS AND COST-SHARING REDUCTIONS + + Subpart A--Premium Tax Credits and Cost-sharing Reductions + +SEC. 1401. REFUNDABLE TAX CREDIT PROVIDING PREMIUM ASSISTANCE FOR + COVERAGE UNDER A QUALIFIED HEALTH PLAN. + + (a) In General.--Subpart C of part IV of subchapter A of chapter 1 +of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (relating to refundable credits) is +amended by inserting after section 36A the following new section: + +``SEC. 36B. <> REFUNDABLE CREDIT FOR COVERAGE UNDER A + QUALIFIED HEALTH PLAN. + + ``(a) In General.--In the case of an applicable taxpayer, there +shall be allowed as a credit against the tax imposed by this subtitle +for any taxable year an amount equal to the premium assistance credit +amount of the taxpayer for the taxable year. + ``(b) Premium Assistance Credit Amount.--For purposes of this +section-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> The term `premium + assistance credit amount' means, with respect to any taxable + year, the sum of the premium assistance amounts determined under + paragraph (2) with respect to all coverage months of the + taxpayer occurring during the taxable year. + ``(2) Premium assistance amount.--The premium assistance + amount determined under this subsection with respect to any + coverage month is the amount equal to the lesser of-- + ``(A) the monthly premiums for such month for 1 or + more qualified health plans offered in the individual + market within a State which cover the taxpayer, the + taxpayer's spouse, or any dependent (as defined in + section 152) of the taxpayer and which were enrolled in + through an Exchange established by the State under 1311 + of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, or + ``(B) the excess (if any) of-- + ``(i) the adjusted monthly premium for such + month for the applicable second lowest cost silver + plan with respect to the taxpayer, over + +[[Page 124 STAT. 214]] + + ``(ii) an amount equal to 1/12 of the product + of the applicable percentage and the taxpayer's + household income for the taxable year. + ``(3) Other terms and rules relating to premium assistance + amounts.--For purposes of paragraph (2)-- + ``(A) Applicable percentage.-- + ``(i) In general.--Except as provided in + clause (ii), the applicable percentage with + respect to any taxpayer for any taxable year is + equal to 2.8 percent, increased by the number of + percentage points (not greater than 7) which bears + the same ratio to 7 percentage points as-- + ``(I) the taxpayer's household + income for the taxable year in excess of + 100 percent of the poverty line for a + family of the size involved, bears to + ``(II) an amount equal to 200 + percent of the poverty line for a family + of the size involved. + ``(ii) Special rule for taxpayers under 133 + percent of poverty line.--If a taxpayer's + household income for the taxable year is in excess + of 100 percent, but not more than 133 percent, of + the poverty line for a family of the size + involved, the taxpayer's applicable percentage + shall be 2 percent. + ``(iii) Indexing.--In the case of taxable + years beginning in any calendar year after 2014, + the Secretary shall adjust the initial and final + applicable percentages under clause (i), and the 2 + percent under clause (ii), for the calendar year + to reflect the excess of the rate of premium + growth between the preceding calendar year and + 2013 over the rate of income growth for such + period. + ``(B) Applicable second lowest cost silver plan.-- + The applicable second lowest cost silver plan with + respect to any applicable taxpayer is the second lowest + cost silver plan of the individual market in the rating + area in which the taxpayer resides which-- + ``(i) is offered through the same Exchange + through which the qualified health plans taken + into account under paragraph (2)(A) were offered, + and + ``(ii) provides-- + ``(I) self-only coverage in the case + of an applicable taxpayer-- + ``(aa) whose tax for the + taxable year is determined under + section 1(c) (relating to + unmarried individuals other than + surviving spouses and heads of + households) and who is not + allowed a deduction under + section 151 for the taxable year + with respect to a dependent, or + ``(bb) who is not described + in item (aa) but who purchases + only self-only coverage, and + ``(II) family coverage in the case + of any other applicable taxpayer. + If a taxpayer files a joint return and no credit is + allowed under this section with respect to 1 of the + spouses by reason of subsection (e), the taxpayer shall + be treated as described in clause (ii)(I) unless a + deduction is allowed + +[[Page 124 STAT. 215]] + + under section 151 for the taxable year with respect to a + dependent other than either spouse and subsection (e) + does not apply to the dependent. + ``(C) Adjusted monthly premium.--The adjusted + monthly premium for an applicable second lowest cost + silver plan is the monthly premium which would have been + charged (for the rating area with respect to which the + premiums under paragraph (2)(A) were determined) for the + plan if each individual covered under a qualified health + plan taken into account under paragraph (2)(A) were + covered by such silver plan and the premium was adjusted + only for the age of each such individual in the manner + allowed under section 2701 of the Public Health Service + Act. In the case of a State participating in the + wellness discount demonstration project under section + 2705(d) of the Public Health Service Act, the adjusted + monthly premium shall be determined without regard to + any premium discount or rebate under such project. + ``(D) Additional benefits.--If-- + ``(i) a qualified health plan under section + 1302(b)(5) of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act offers benefits in addition to + the essential health benefits required to be + provided by the plan, or + ``(ii) a State requires a qualified health + plan under section 1311(d)(3)(B) of such Act to + cover benefits in addition to the essential health + benefits required to be provided by the plan, + the portion of the premium for the plan properly + allocable (under rules prescribed by the Secretary of + Health and Human Services) to such additional benefits + shall not be taken into account in determining either + the monthly premium or the adjusted monthly premium + under paragraph (2). + ``(E) Special rule for pediatric dental coverage.-- + For purposes of determining the amount of any monthly + premium, if an individual enrolls in both a qualified + health plan and a plan described in section + 1311(d)(2)(B)(ii)(I) of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act for any plan year, the portion of + the premium for the plan described in such section that + (under regulations prescribed by the Secretary) is + properly allocable to pediatric dental benefits which + are included in the essential health benefits required + to be provided by a qualified health plan under section + 1302(b)(1)(J) of such Act shall be treated as a premium + payable for a qualified health plan. + + ``(c) Definition and Rules Relating to Applicable Taxpayers, +Coverage Months, and Qualified Health Plan.--For purposes of this +section-- + ``(1) Applicable taxpayer.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `applicable taxpayer' + means, with respect to any taxable year, a taxpayer + whose household income for the taxable year exceeds 100 + percent but does not exceed 400 percent of an amount + equal to the poverty line for a family of the size + involved. + ``(B) Special rule for certain individuals lawfully + present in the united states.--If-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 216]] + + ``(i) a taxpayer has a household income which + is not greater than 100 percent of an amount equal + to the poverty line for a family of the size + involved, and + ``(ii) the taxpayer is an alien lawfully + present in the United States, but is not eligible + for the medicaid program under title XIX of the + Social Security Act by reason of such alien + status, + the taxpayer shall, for purposes of the credit under + this section, be treated as an applicable taxpayer with + a household income which is equal to 100 percent of the + poverty line for a family of the size involved. + ``(C) Married couples must file joint return.--If + the taxpayer is married (within the meaning of section + 7703) at the close of the taxable year, the taxpayer + shall be treated as an applicable taxpayer only if the + taxpayer and the taxpayer's spouse file a joint return + for the taxable year. + ``(D) Denial of credit to dependents.--No credit + shall be allowed under this section to any individual + with respect to whom a deduction under section 151 is + allowable to another taxpayer for a taxable year + beginning in the calendar year in which such + individual's taxable year begins. + ``(2) Coverage month.--For purposes of this subsection-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `coverage month' means, + with respect to an applicable taxpayer, any month if-- + ``(i) as of the first day of such month the + taxpayer, the taxpayer's spouse, or any dependent + of the taxpayer is covered by a qualified health + plan described in subsection (b)(2)(A) that was + enrolled in through an Exchange established by the + State under section 1311 of the Patient Protection + and Affordable Care Act, and + ``(ii) the premium for coverage under such + plan for such month is paid by the taxpayer (or + through advance payment of the credit under + subsection (a) under section 1412 of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act). + ``(B) Exception for minimum essential coverage.-- + ``(i) In general.--The term `coverage month' + shall not include any month with respect to an + individual if for such month the individual is + eligible for minimum essential coverage other than + eligibility for coverage described in section + 5000A(f)(1)(C) (relating to coverage in the + individual market). + ``(ii) Minimum essential coverage.--The term + `minimum essential coverage' has the meaning given + such term by section 5000A(f). + ``(C) Special rule for employer-sponsored minimum + essential coverage.--For purposes of subparagraph (B)-- + ``(i) Coverage must be affordable.--Except as + provided in clause (iii), an employee shall not be + treated as eligible for minimum essential coverage + if such coverage-- + ``(I) consists of an eligible + employer-sponsored plan (as defined in + section 5000A(f)(2)), and + ``(II) the employee's required + contribution (within the meaning of + section 5000A(e)(1)(B)) with + +[[Page 124 STAT. 217]] + + respect to the plan exceeds 9.8 percent + of the applicable taxpayer's household + income. + <> This clause shall also + apply to an individual who is eligible to enroll + in the plan by reason of a relationship the + individual bears to the employee. + ``(ii) Coverage must provide minimum value.-- + Except as provided in clause (iii), an employee + shall not be treated as eligible for minimum + essential coverage if such coverage consists of an + eligible employer-sponsored plan (as defined in + section 5000A(f)(2)) and the plan's share of the + total allowed costs of benefits provided under the + plan is less than 60 percent of such costs. + ``(iii) Employee or family must not be covered + under employer plan.--Clauses (i) and (ii) shall + not apply if the employee (or any individual + described in the last sentence of clause (i)) is + covered under the eligible employer-sponsored plan + or the grandfathered health plan. + ``(iv) Indexing.--In the case of plan years + beginning in any calendar year after 2014, the + Secretary shall adjust the 9.8 percent under + clause (i)(II) in the same manner as the + percentages are adjusted under subsection + (b)(3)(A)(ii). + ``(3) Definitions and other rules.-- + ``(A) Qualified health plan.--The term `qualified + health plan' has the meaning given such term by section + 1301(a) of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act, except that such term shall not include a qualified + health plan which is a catastrophic plan described in + section 1302(e) of such Act. + ``(B) Grandfathered health plan.--The term + `grandfathered health plan' has the meaning given such + term by section 1251 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act. + + ``(d) Terms Relating to Income and Families.--For purposes of this +section-- + ``(1) Family size.--The family size involved with respect to + any taxpayer shall be equal to the number of individuals for + whom the taxpayer is allowed a deduction under section 151 + (relating to allowance of deduction for personal exemptions) for + the taxable year. + ``(2) Household income.-- + ``(A) Household income.--The term `household income' + means, with respect to any taxpayer, an amount equal to + the sum of-- + ``(i) the modified gross income of the + taxpayer, plus + ``(ii) the aggregate modified gross incomes of + all other individuals who-- + ``(I) were taken into account in + determining the taxpayer's family size + under paragraph (1), and + ``(II) were required to file a + return of tax imposed by section 1 for + the taxable year. + ``(B) Modified gross income.--The term `modified + gross income' means gross income-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 218]] + + ``(i) decreased by the amount of any deduction + allowable under paragraph (1), (3), (4), or (10) + of section 62(a), + ``(ii) increased by the amount of interest + received or accrued during the taxable year which + is exempt from tax imposed by this chapter, and + ``(iii) determined without regard to sections + 911, 931, and 933. + ``(3) Poverty line.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `poverty line' has the + meaning given that term in section 2110(c)(5) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397jj(c)(5)). + ``(B) Poverty line used.--In the case of any + qualified health plan offered through an Exchange for + coverage during a taxable year beginning in a calendar + year, the poverty line used shall be the most recently + published poverty line as of the 1st day of the regular + enrollment period for coverage during such calendar + year. + + ``(e) Rules for Individuals Not Lawfully Present.-- + ``(1) In general.--If 1 or more individuals for whom a + taxpayer is allowed a deduction under section 151 (relating to + allowance of deduction for personal exemptions) for the taxable + year (including the taxpayer or his spouse) are individuals who + are not lawfully present-- + ``(A) the aggregate amount of premiums otherwise + taken into account under clauses (i) and (ii) of + subsection (b)(2)(A) shall be reduced by the portion (if + any) of such premiums which is attributable to such + individuals, and + ``(B) for purposes of applying this section, the + determination as to what percentage a taxpayer's + household income bears to the poverty level for a family + of the size involved shall be made under one of the + following methods: + ``(i) A method under which-- + ``(I) the taxpayer's family size is + determined by not taking such + individuals into account, and + ``(II) the taxpayer's household + income is equal to the product of the + taxpayer's household income (determined + without regard to this subsection) and a + fraction-- + ``(aa) the numerator of + which is the poverty line for + the taxpayer's family size + determined after application of + subclause (I), and + ``(bb) the denominator of + which is the poverty line for + the taxpayer's family size + determined without regard to + subclause (I). + ``(ii) A comparable method reaching the same + result as the method under clause (i). + ``(2) Lawfully present.--For purposes of this section, an + individual shall be treated as lawfully present only if the + individual is, and is reasonably expected to be for the entire + period of enrollment for which the credit under this section is + being claimed, a citizen or national of the United States or an + alien lawfully present in the United States. + ``(3) Secretarial authority.-- <> The + Secretary of Health and Human Services, in consultation with the + Secretary, shall prescribe rules setting forth the methods by + which calculations of family size and household income are made + for purposes + +[[Page 124 STAT. 219]] + + of this subsection. Such rules shall be designed to ensure that + the least burden is placed on individuals enrolling in qualified + health plans through an Exchange and taxpayers eligible for the + credit allowable under this section. + + ``(f) Reconciliation of Credit and Advance Credit.-- + ``(1) In general.--The amount of the credit allowed under + this section for any taxable year shall be reduced (but not + below zero) by the amount of any advance payment of such credit + under section 1412 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act. + ``(2) Excess advance payments.-- + ``(A) In general.--If the advance payments to a + taxpayer under section 1412 of the Patient Protection + and Affordable Care Act for a taxable year exceed the + credit allowed by this section (determined without + regard to paragraph (1)), the tax imposed by this + chapter for the taxable year shall be increased by the + amount of such excess. + ``(B) Limitation on increase where income less than + 400 percent of poverty line.-- + ``(i) In general.--In the case of an + applicable taxpayer whose household income is less + than 400 percent of the poverty line for the size + of the family involved for the taxable year, the + amount of the increase under subparagraph (A) + shall in no event exceed $400 ($250 in the case of + a taxpayer whose tax is determined under section + 1(c) for the taxable year). + ``(ii) Indexing of amount.--In the case of any + calendar year beginning after 2014, each of the + dollar amounts under clause (i) shall be increased + by an amount equal to-- + ``(I) such dollar amount, multiplied + by + ``(II) the cost-of-living adjustment + determined under section 1(f)(3) for the + calendar year, determined by + substituting `calendar year 2013' for + `calendar year 1992' in subparagraph (B) + thereof. + If the amount of any increase under clause (i) is + not a multiple of $50, such increase shall be + rounded to the next lowest multiple of $50. + + ``(g) Regulations.--The Secretary shall prescribe such regulations +as may be necessary to carry out the provisions of this section, +including regulations which provide for-- + ``(1) the coordination of the credit allowed under this + section with the program for advance payment of the credit under + section 1412 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, + and + ``(2) the application of subsection (f) where the filing + status of the taxpayer for a taxable year is different from such + status used for determining the advance payment of the + credit.''. + + (b) Disallowance of Deduction.--Section 280C of the Internal Revenue +Code of 1986 <> is amended by adding at the end the +following new subsection: + + ``(g) Credit for Health Insurance Premiums.--No deduction shall be +allowed for the portion of the premiums paid by the taxpayer for +coverage of 1 or more individuals under a qualified health plan which is +equal to the amount of the credit determined for the taxable year under +section 36B(a) with respect to such premiums.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 220]] + + (c) Study on Affordable Coverage.-- + (1) Study and report.-- + (A) In general.--Not later than 5 years after the + date of the enactment of this Act, the Comptroller + General shall conduct a study on the affordability of + health insurance coverage, including-- + (i) the impact of the tax credit for qualified + health insurance coverage of individuals under + section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 + and the tax credit for employee health insurance + expenses of small employers under section 45R of + such Code on maintaining and expanding the health + insurance coverage of individuals; + (ii) the availability of affordable health + benefits plans, including a study of whether the + percentage of household income used for purposes + of section 36B(c)(2)(C) of the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986 (as added by this section) is the + appropriate level for determining whether + employer-provided coverage is affordable for an + employee and whether such level may be lowered + without significantly increasing the costs to the + Federal Government and reducing employer-provided + coverage; and + (iii) the ability of individuals to maintain + essential health benefits coverage (as defined in + section 5000A(f) of the Internal Revenue Code of + 1986). + (B) Report.--The Comptroller General shall submit to + the appropriate committees of Congress a report on the + study conducted under subparagraph (A), together with + legislative recommendations relating to the matters + studied under such subparagraph. + (2) Appropriate committees of congress.--In this subsection, + the term ``appropriate committees of Congress'' means the + Committee on Ways and Means, the Committee on Education and + Labor, and the Committee on Energy and Commerce of the House of + Representatives and the Committee on Finance and the Committee + on Health, Education, Labor and Pensions of the Senate. + + (d) Conforming Amendments.-- + (1) Paragraph (2) of section 1324(b) of title 31, United + States Code, is amended by inserting ``36B,'' after ``36A,''. + (2) The table of sections for subpart C of part IV of + subchapter A of chapter 1 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 + is amended by inserting after the item relating to section 36A + the following new item: + +``Sec. 36B. Refundable credit for coverage under a qualified health + plan.''. + + (e) <> Effective Date.--The amendments made +by this section shall apply to taxable years ending after December 31, +2013. + +SEC. 1402. <> REDUCED COST-SHARING FOR INDIVIDUALS + ENROLLING IN QUALIFIED HEALTH PLANS. + + (a) In General.--In the case of an eligible insured enrolled in a +qualified health plan-- + (1) <> the Secretary shall notify the + issuer of the plan of such eligibility; and + (2) the issuer shall reduce the cost-sharing under the plan + at the level and in the manner specified in subsection (c). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 221]] + + (b) Eligible Insured.--In this section, the term ``eligible +insured'' means an individual-- + (1) who enrolls in a qualified health plan in the silver + level of coverage in the individual market offered through an + Exchange; and + (2) whose household income exceeds 100 percent but does not + exceed 400 percent of the poverty line for a family of the size + involved. + +In the case of an individual described in section 36B(c)(1)(B) of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986, the individual shall be treated as having +household income equal to 100 percent for purposes of applying this +section. + (c) Determination of Reduction in Cost-sharing.-- + (1) Reduction in out-of-pocket limit.-- + (A) In general.--The reduction in cost-sharing under + this subsection shall first be achieved by reducing the + applicable out-of pocket limit under section 1302(c)(1) + in the case of-- + (i) an eligible insured whose household income + is more than 100 percent but not more than 200 + percent of the poverty line for a family of the + size involved, by two-thirds; + (ii) an eligible insured whose household + income is more than 200 percent but not more than + 300 percent of the poverty line for a family of + the size involved, by one-half; and + (iii) an eligible insured whose household + income is more than 300 percent but not more than + 400 percent of the poverty line for a family of + the size involved, by one-third. + (B) Coordination with actuarial value limits.-- + (i) In general.--The Secretary shall ensure + the reduction under this paragraph shall not + result in an increase in the plan's share of the + total allowed costs of benefits provided under the + plan above-- + (I) 90 percent in the case of an + eligible insured described in paragraph + (2)(A); + (II) 80 percent in the case of an + eligible insured described in paragraph + (2)(B); and + (III) 70 percent in the case of an + eligible insured described in clause + (ii) or (iii) of subparagraph (A). + (ii) Adjustment.--The Secretary shall adjust + the out-of pocket limits under paragraph (1) if + necessary to ensure that such limits do not cause + the respective actuarial values to exceed the + levels specified in clause (i). + (2) Additional reduction for lower income insureds.-- + The <> Secretary shall establish procedures + under which the issuer of a qualified health plan to which this + section applies shall further reduce cost-sharing under the plan + in a manner sufficient to-- + (A) in the case of an eligible insured whose + household income is not less than 100 percent but not + more than 150 percent of the poverty line for a family + of the size involved, increase the plan's share of the + total allowed + +[[Page 124 STAT. 222]] + + costs of benefits provided under the plan to 90 percent + of such costs; and + (B) in the case of an eligible insured whose + household income is more than 150 percent but not more + than 200 percent of the poverty line for a family of the + size involved, increase the plan's share of the total + allowed costs of benefits provided under the plan to 80 + percent of such costs. + (3) Methods for reducing cost-sharing.-- + (A) <> In general.--An issuer + of a qualified health plan making reductions under this + subsection shall notify the Secretary of such reductions + and the Secretary shall make periodic and timely + payments to the issuer equal to the value of the + reductions. + (B) Capitated payments.--The Secretary may establish + a capitated payment system to carry out the payment of + cost-sharing reductions under this section. Any such + system shall take into account the value of the + reductions and make appropriate risk adjustments to such + payments. + (4) Additional benefits.--If a qualified health plan under + section 1302(b)(5) offers benefits in addition to the essential + health benefits required to be provided by the plan, or a State + requires a qualified health plan under section 1311(d)(3)(B) to + cover benefits in addition to the essential health benefits + required to be provided by the plan, the reductions in cost- + sharing under this section shall not apply to such additional + benefits. + (5) Special rule for pediatric dental plans.--If an + individual enrolls in both a qualified health plan and a plan + described in section 1311(d)(2)(B)(ii)(I) for any plan year, + subsection (a) shall not apply to that portion of any reduction + in cost-sharing under subsection (c) that (under regulations + prescribed by the Secretary) is properly allocable to pediatric + dental benefits which are included in the essential health + benefits required to be provided by a qualified health plan + under section 1302(b)(1)(J). + + (d) Special Rules for Indians.-- + (1) Indians under 300 percent of poverty.--If an individual + enrolled in any qualified health plan in the individual market + through an Exchange is an Indian (as defined in section 4(d) of + the Indian Self-Determination and Education Assistance Act (25 + U.S.C. 450b(d))) whose household income is not more than 300 + percent of the poverty line for a family of the size involved, + then, for purposes of this section-- + (A) such individual shall be treated as an eligible + insured; and + (B) the issuer of the plan shall eliminate any cost- + sharing under the plan. + (2) Items or services furnished through indian health + providers.--If an Indian (as so defined) enrolled in a qualified + health plan is furnished an item or service directly by the + Indian Health Service, an Indian Tribe, Tribal Organization, or + Urban Indian Organization or through referral under contract + health services-- + (A) no cost-sharing under the plan shall be imposed + under the plan for such item or service; and + (B) the issuer of the plan shall not reduce the + payment to any such entity for such item or service by + the amount + +[[Page 124 STAT. 223]] + + of any cost-sharing that would be due from the Indian + but for subparagraph (A). + (3) Payment.--The Secretary shall pay to the issuer of a + qualified health plan the amount necessary to reflect the + increase in actuarial value of the plan required by reason of + this subsection. + + (e) Rules for Individuals Not Lawfully Present.-- + (1) In general.--If an individual who is an eligible insured + is not lawfully present-- + (A) no cost-sharing reduction under this section + shall apply with respect to the individual; and + (B) for purposes of applying this section, the + determination as to what percentage a taxpayer's + household income bears to the poverty level for a family + of the size involved shall be made under one of the + following methods: + (i) A method under which-- + (I) the taxpayer's family size is + determined by not taking such + individuals into account, and + (II) the taxpayer's household income + is equal to the product of the + taxpayer's household income (determined + without regard to this subsection) and a + fraction-- + (aa) the numerator of which + is the poverty line for the + taxpayer's family size + determined after application of + subclause (I), and + (bb) the denominator of + which is the poverty line for + the taxpayer's family size + determined without regard to + subclause (I). + (ii) A comparable method reaching the same + result as the method under clause (i). + (2) Lawfully present.--For purposes of this section, an + individual shall be treated as lawfully present only if the + individual is, and is reasonably expected to be for the entire + period of enrollment for which the cost-sharing reduction under + this section is being claimed, a citizen or national of the + United States or an alien lawfully present in the United States. + (3) <> Secretarial authority.--The + Secretary, in consultation with the Secretary of the Treasury, + shall prescribe rules setting forth the methods by which + calculations of family size and household income are made for + purposes of this subsection. Such rules shall be designed to + ensure that the least burden is placed on individuals enrolling + in qualified health plans through an Exchange and taxpayers + eligible for the credit allowable under this section. + + (f) Definitions and Special Rules.--In this section: + (1) In general.--Any term used in this section which is also + used in section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 shall + have the meaning given such term by such section. + (2) Limitations on reduction.--No cost-sharing reduction + shall be allowed under this section with respect to coverage for + any month unless the month is a coverage month with respect to + which a credit is allowed to the insured (or an applicable + taxpayer on behalf of the insured) under section 36B of such + Code. + (3) Data used for eligibility.--Any determination under this + section shall be made on the basis of the taxable year for which + the advance determination is made under section + +[[Page 124 STAT. 224]] + + 1412 and not the taxable year for which the credit under section + 36B of such Code is allowed. + + Subpart B--Eligibility Determinations + +SEC. 1411. <> PROCEDURES FOR DETERMINING + ELIGIBILITY FOR EXCHANGE PARTICIPATION, PREMIUM TAX CREDITS + AND REDUCED COST-SHARING, AND INDIVIDUAL RESPONSIBILITY + EXEMPTIONS. + + (a) Establishment of Program.--The Secretary shall establish a +program meeting the requirements of this section for determining-- + (1) whether an individual who is to be covered in the + individual market by a qualified health plan offered through an + Exchange, or who is claiming a premium tax credit or reduced + cost-sharing, meets the requirements of sections 1312(f)(3), + 1402(e), and 1412(d) of this title and section 36B(e) of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 that the individual be a citizen + or national of the United States or an alien lawfully present in + the United States; + (2) in the case of an individual claiming a premium tax + credit or reduced cost-sharing under section 36B of such Code or + section 1402-- + (A) whether the individual meets the income and + coverage requirements of such sections; and + (B) the amount of the tax credit or reduced cost- + sharing; + (3) whether an individual's coverage under an employer- + sponsored health benefits plan is treated as unaffordable under + sections 36B(c)(2)(C) and 5000A(e)(2); and + (4) whether to grant a certification under section + 1311(d)(4)(H) attesting that, for purposes of the individual + responsibility requirement under section 5000A of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986, an individual is entitled to an exemption + from either the individual responsibility requirement or the + penalty imposed by such section. + + (b) Information Required To Be Provided by Applicants.-- + (1) In general.--An applicant for enrollment in a qualified + health plan offered through an Exchange in the individual market + shall provide-- + (A) the name, address, and date of birth of each + individual who is to be covered by the plan (in this + subsection referred to as an ``enrollee''); and + (B) the information required by any of the following + paragraphs that is applicable to an enrollee. + (2) Citizenship or immigration status.--The following + information shall be provided with respect to every enrollee: + (A) In the case of an enrollee whose eligibility is + based on an attestation of citizenship of the enrollee, + the enrollee's social security number. + (B) In the case of an individual whose eligibility + is based on an attestation of the enrollee's immigration + status, the enrollee's social security number (if + applicable) and such identifying information with + respect to the enrollee's immigration status as the + Secretary, after consultation with the Secretary of + Homeland Security, determines appropriate. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 225]] + + (3) Eligibility and amount of tax credit or reduced cost- + sharing.--In the case of an enrollee with respect to whom a + premium tax credit or reduced cost-sharing under section 36B of + such Code or section 1402 is being claimed, the following + information: + (A) Information regarding income and family size.-- + The information described in section 6103(l)(21) for the + taxable year ending with or within the second calendar + year preceding the calendar year in which the plan year + begins. + (B) Changes in circumstances.--The information + described in section 1412(b)(2), including information + with respect to individuals who were not required to + file an income tax return for the taxable year described + in subparagraph (A) or individuals who experienced + changes in marital status or family size or significant + reductions in income. + (4) Employer-sponsored coverage.--In the case of an enrollee + with respect to whom eligibility for a premium tax credit under + section 36B of such Code or cost-sharing reduction under section + 1402 is being established on the basis that the enrollee's (or + related individual's) employer is not treated under section + 36B(c)(2)(C) of such Code as providing minimum essential + coverage or affordable minimum essential coverage, the following + information: + (A) The name, address, and employer identification + number (if available) of the employer. + (B) Whether the enrollee or individual is a full- + time employee and whether the employer provides such + minimum essential coverage. + (C) If the employer provides such minimum essential + coverage, the lowest cost option for the enrollee's or + individual's enrollment status and the enrollee's or + individual's required contribution (within the meaning + of section 5000A(e)(1)(B) of such Code) under the + employer-sponsored plan. + (D) If an enrollee claims an employer's minimum + essential coverage is unaffordable, the information + described in paragraph (3). + If an enrollee changes employment or obtains additional + employment while enrolled in a qualified health plan for which + such credit or reduction is allowed, the enrollee shall notify + the Exchange of such change or additional employment and provide + the information described in this paragraph with respect to the + new employer. + (5) Exemptions from individual responsibility + requirements.--In the case of an individual who is seeking an + exemption certificate under section 1311(d)(4)(H) from any + requirement or penalty imposed by section 5000A, the following + information: + (A) In the case of an individual seeking exemption + based on the individual's status as a member of an + exempt religious sect or division, as a member of a + health care sharing ministry, as an Indian, or as an + individual eligible for a hardship exemption, such + information as the Secretary shall prescribe. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 226]] + + (B) In the case of an individual seeking exemption + based on the lack of affordable coverage or the + individual's status as a taxpayer with household income + less than 100 percent of the poverty line, the + information described in paragraphs (3) and (4), as + applicable. + + (c) Verification of Information Contained in Records of Specific +Federal Officials.-- + (1) Information transferred to secretary.--An Exchange shall + submit the information provided by an applicant under subsection + (b) to the Secretary for verification in accordance with the + requirements of this subsection and subsection (d). + (2) Citizenship or immigration status.-- + (A) Commissioner of social security.--The Secretary + shall submit to the Commissioner of Social Security the + following information for a determination as to whether + the information provided is consistent with the + information in the records of the Commissioner: + (i) The name, date of birth, and social + security number of each individual for whom such + information was provided under subsection (b)(2). + (ii) The attestation of an individual that the + individual is a citizen. + (B) Secretary of homeland security.-- + (i) <> In general.--In the + case of an individual-- + (I) who attests that the individual + is an alien lawfully present in the + United States; or + (II) who attests that the individual + is a citizen but with respect to whom + the Commissioner of Social Security has + notified the Secretary under subsection + (e)(3) that the attestation is + inconsistent with information in the + records maintained by the Commissioner; + the Secretary shall submit to the Secretary of + Homeland Security the information described in + clause (ii) for a determination as to whether the + information provided is consistent with the + information in the records of the Secretary of + Homeland Security. + (ii) Information.--The information described + in clause (ii) is the following: + (I) The name, date of birth, and any + identifying information with respect to + the individual's immigration status + provided under subsection (b)(2). + (II) The attestation that the + individual is an alien lawfully present + in the United States or in the case of + an individual described in clause + (i)(II), the attestation that the + individual is a citizen. + (3) Eligibility for tax credit and cost-sharing reduction.-- + The Secretary shall submit the information described in + subsection (b)(3)(A) provided under paragraph (3), (4), or (5) + of subsection (b) to the Secretary of the Treasury for + verification of household income and family size for purposes of + eligibility. + (4) Methods.-- + (A) <> In general.-- + The Secretary, in consultation with the Secretary of the + Treasury, the Secretary of Homeland + +[[Page 124 STAT. 227]] + + Security, and the Commissioner of Social Security, shall + provide that verifications and determinations under this + subsection shall be done-- + (i) through use of an on-line system or + otherwise for the electronic submission of, and + response to, the information submitted under this + subsection with respect to an applicant; or + (ii) by determining the consistency of the + information submitted with the information + maintained in the records of the Secretary of the + Treasury, the Secretary of Homeland Security, or + the Commissioner of Social Security through such + other method as is approved by the Secretary. + (B) Flexibility.--The Secretary may modify the + methods used under the program established by this + section for the Exchange and verification of information + if the Secretary determines such modifications would + reduce the administrative costs and burdens on the + applicant, including allowing an applicant to request + the Secretary of the Treasury to provide the information + described in paragraph (3) directly to the Exchange or + to the Secretary. The Secretary shall not make any such + modification unless the Secretary determines that any + applicable requirements under this section and section + 6103 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 with respect + to the confidentiality, disclosure, maintenance, or use + of information will be met. + + (d) Verification by Secretary.--In the case of information provided +under subsection (b) that is not required under subsection (c) to be +submitted to another person for verification, the Secretary shall verify +the accuracy of such information in such manner as the Secretary +determines appropriate, including delegating responsibility for +verification to the Exchange. + (e) Actions Relating to Verification.-- + (1) In general.--Each person to whom the Secretary provided + information under subsection (c) shall report to the Secretary + under the method established under subsection (c)(4) the results + of its verification and the Secretary shall notify the Exchange + of such results. <> Each person to whom the + Secretary provided information under subsection (d) shall report + to the Secretary in such manner as the Secretary determines + appropriate. + (2) Verification.-- + (A) Eligibility for enrollment and premium tax + credits and cost-sharing reductions.--If information + provided by an applicant under paragraphs (1), (2), (3), + and (4) of subsection (b) is verified under subsections + (c) and (d)-- + (i) the individual's eligibility to enroll + through the Exchange and to apply for premium tax + credits and cost-sharing reductions shall be + satisfied; and + (ii) <> the Secretary + shall, if applicable, notify the Secretary of the + Treasury under section 1412(c) of the amount of + any advance payment to be made. + (B) Exemption from individual responsibility.--If + information provided by an applicant under subsection + (b)(5) is verified under subsections (c) and (d), the + Secretary + +[[Page 124 STAT. 228]] + + shall issue the certification of exemption described in + section 1311(d)(4)(H). + (3) Inconsistencies involving attestation of citizenship or + lawful presence.--If the information provided by any applicant + under subsection (b)(2) is inconsistent with information in the + records maintained by the Commissioner of Social Security or + Secretary of Homeland Security, whichever is applicable, the + applicant's eligibility will be determined in the same manner as + an individual's eligibility under the medicaid program is + determined under section 1902(ee) of the Social Security Act (as + in effect on January 1, 2010). + (4) <> Inconsistencies involving + other information.-- + (A) In general.--If the information provided by an + applicant under subsection (b) (other than subsection + (b)(2)) is inconsistent with information in the records + maintained by persons under subsection (c) or is not + verified under subsection (d), the Secretary shall + notify the Exchange and the Exchange shall take the + following actions: + (i) Reasonable effort.--The Exchange shall + make a reasonable effort to identify and address + the causes of such inconsistency, including + through typographical or other clerical errors, by + contacting the applicant to confirm the accuracy + of the information, and by taking such additional + actions as the Secretary, through regulation or + other guidance, may identify. + (ii) Notice and opportunity to correct.--In + the case the inconsistency or inability to verify + is not resolved under subparagraph (A), the + Exchange shall-- + (I) notify the applicant of such + fact; + (II) <> provide + the applicant an opportunity to either + present satisfactory documentary + evidence or resolve the inconsistency + with the person verifying the + information under subsection (c) or (d) + during the 90-day period beginning the + date on which the notice required under + subclause (I) is sent to the applicant. + The Secretary may extend the 90-day period under + subclause (II) for enrollments occurring during + 2014. + (B) Specific actions not involving citizenship or + lawful presence.-- + (i) In general.--Except as provided in + paragraph (3), the Exchange shall, during any + period before the close of the period under + subparagraph (A)(ii)(II), make any determination + under paragraphs (2), (3), and (4) of subsection + (a) on the basis of the information contained on + the application. + (ii) Eligibility or amount of credit or + reduction.--If an inconsistency involving the + eligibility for, or amount of, any premium tax + credit or cost-sharing reduction is unresolved + under this subsection as of the close of the + period under subparagraph (A)(ii)(II), the + Exchange shall notify the applicant of the amount + (if any) of the credit or reduction that is + determined on the basis of the records maintained + by persons under subsection (c). + (iii) Employer affordability.--If the + Secretary notifies an Exchange that an enrollee is + eligible for + +[[Page 124 STAT. 229]] + + a premium tax credit under section 36B of such + Code or cost-sharing reduction under section 1402 + because the enrollee's (or related individual's) + employer does not provide minimum essential + coverage through an employer-sponsored plan or + that the employer does provide that coverage but + it is not affordable coverage, the Exchange shall + notify the employer of such fact and that the + employer may be liable for the payment assessed + under section 4980H of such Code. + (iv) Exemption.--In any case where the + inconsistency involving, or inability to verify, + information provided under subsection (b)(5) is + not resolved as of the close of the period under + subparagraph (A)(ii)(II), the Exchange shall + notify an applicant that no certification of + exemption from any requirement or payment under + section 5000A of such Code will be issued. + (C) Appeals process.--The Exchange shall also notify + each person receiving notice under this paragraph of the + appeals processes established under subsection (f). + + (f) Appeals and Redeterminations.-- + (1) <> In general.--The Secretary, in + consultation with the Secretary of the Treasury, the Secretary + of Homeland Security, and the Commissioner of Social Security, + shall establish procedures by which the Secretary or one of such + other Federal officers-- + (A) hears and makes decisions with respect to + appeals of any determination under subsection (e); and + (B) redetermines eligibility on a periodic basis in + appropriate circumstances. + (2) Employer liability.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary shall establish a + separate appeals process for employers who are notified + under subsection (e)(4)(C) that the employer may be + liable for a tax imposed by section 4980H of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 with respect to an + employee because of a determination that the employer + does not provide minimum essential coverage through an + employer-sponsored plan or that the employer does + provide that coverage but it is not affordable coverage + with respect to an employee. Such process shall provide + an employer the opportunity to-- + (i) present information to the Exchange for + review of the determination either by the Exchange + or the person making the determination, including + evidence of the employer-sponsored plan and + employer contributions to the plan; and + (ii) have access to the data used to make the + determination to the extent allowable by law. + Such process shall be in addition to any rights of + appeal the employer may have under subtitle F of such + Code. + (B) Confidentiality.--Notwithstanding any provision + of this title (or the amendments made by this title) or + section 6103 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, an + employer shall not be entitled to any taxpayer return + information with respect to an employee for purposes of + determining whether the employer is subject to the + penalty under section 4980H of such Code with respect to + the employee, except that-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 230]] + + (i) the employer may be notified as to the + name of an employee and whether or not the + employee's income is above or below the threshold + by which the affordability of an employer's health + insurance coverage is measured; and + (ii) this subparagraph shall not apply to an + employee who provides a waiver (at such time and + in such manner as the Secretary may prescribe) + authorizing an employer to have access to the + employee's taxpayer return information. + + (g) Confidentiality of Applicant Information.-- + (1) In general.--An applicant for insurance coverage or for + a premium tax credit or cost-sharing reduction shall be required + to provide only the information strictly necessary to + authenticate identity, determine eligibility, and determine the + amount of the credit or reduction. + (2) Receipt of information.--Any person who receives + information provided by an applicant under subsection (b) + (whether directly or by another person at the request of the + applicant), or receives information from a Federal agency under + subsection (c), (d), or (e), shall-- + (A) use the information only for the purposes of, + and to the extent necessary in, ensuring the efficient + operation of the Exchange, including verifying the + eligibility of an individual to enroll through an + Exchange or to claim a premium tax credit or cost- + sharing reduction or the amount of the credit or + reduction; and + (B) not disclose the information to any other person + except as provided in this section. + + (h) Penalties.-- + (1) False or fraudulent information.-- + (A) Civil penalty.-- + (i) In general.--If-- + (I) any person fails to provides + correct information under subsection + (b); and + (II) such failure is attributable to + negligence or disregard of any rules or + regulations of the Secretary, + such person shall be subject, in addition to any + other penalties that may be prescribed by law, to + a civil penalty of not more than $25,000 with + respect to any failures involving an application + for a plan year. For purposes of this + subparagraph, the terms ``negligence'' and + ``disregard'' shall have the same meanings as when + used in section 6662 of the Internal Revenue Code + of 1986. + (ii) Reasonable cause exception.--No penalty + shall be imposed under clause (i) if the Secretary + determines that there was a reasonable cause for + the failure and that the person acted in good + faith. + (B) Knowing and willful violations.--Any person who + knowingly and willfully provides false or fraudulent + information under subsection (b) shall be subject, in + addition to any other penalties that may be prescribed + by law, to a civil penalty of not more than $250,000. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 231]] + + (2) Improper use or disclosure of information.--Any person + who knowingly and willfully uses or discloses information in + violation of subsection (g) shall be subject, in addition to any + other penalties that may be prescribed by law, to a civil + penalty of not more than $25,000. + (3) Limitations on liens and levies.--The Secretary (or, if + applicable, the Attorney General of the United States) shall + not-- + (A) file notice of lien with respect to any property + of a person by reason of any failure to pay the penalty + imposed by this subsection; or + (B) levy on any such property with respect to such + failure. + + (i) Study of Administration of Employer Responsibility.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + shall, in consultation with the Secretary of the Treasury, + conduct a study of the procedures that are necessary to ensure + that in the administration of this title and section 4980H of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (as added by section 1513) + that the following rights are protected: + (A) The rights of employees to preserve their right + to confidentiality of their taxpayer return information + and their right to enroll in a qualified health plan + through an Exchange if an employer does not provide + affordable coverage. + (B) The rights of employers to adequate due process + and access to information necessary to accurately + determine any payment assessed on employers. + (2) Report.--Not later than January 1, 2013, the Secretary + of Health and Human Services shall report the results of the + study conducted under paragraph (1), including any + recommendations for legislative changes, to the Committees on + Finance and Health, Education, Labor and Pensions of the Senate + and the Committees of Education and Labor and Ways and Means of + the House of Representatives. + +SEC. 1412. <> ADVANCE DETERMINATION AND PAYMENT OF + PREMIUM TAX CREDITS AND COST-SHARING REDUCTIONS. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary, in consultation with the Secretary +of the Treasury, shall establish a program under which-- + (1) upon request of an Exchange, advance determinations are + made under section 1411 with respect to the income eligibility + of individuals enrolling in a qualified health plan in the + individual market through the Exchange for the premium tax + credit allowable under section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code + of 1986 and the cost-sharing reductions under section 1402; + (2) <> the Secretary notifies-- + (A) the Exchange and the Secretary of the Treasury + of the advance determinations; and + (B) the Secretary of the Treasury of the name and + employer identification number of each employer with + respect to whom 1 or more employee of the employer were + determined to be eligible for the premium tax credit + under section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 + and the cost-sharing reductions under section 1402 + because-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 232]] + + (i) the employer did not provide minimum + essential coverage; or + (ii) the employer provided such minimum + essential coverage but it was determined under + section 36B(c)(2)(C) of such Code to either be + unaffordable to the employee or not provide the + required minimum actuarial value; and + (3) the Secretary of the Treasury makes advance payments of + such credit or reductions to the issuers of the qualified health + plans in order to reduce the premiums payable by individuals + eligible for such credit. + + (b) Advance Determinations.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary shall provide under the + program established under subsection (a) that advance + determination of eligibility with respect to any individual + shall be made-- + (A) during the annual open enrollment period + applicable to the individual (or such other enrollment + period as may be specified by the Secretary); and + (B) on the basis of the individual's household + income for the most recent taxable year for which the + Secretary, after consultation with the Secretary of the + Treasury, determines information is available. + (2) Changes in circumstances.--The Secretary shall provide + procedures for making advance determinations on the basis of + information other than that described in paragraph (1)(B) in + cases where information included with an application form + demonstrates substantial changes in income, changes in family + size or other household circumstances, change in filing status, + the filing of an application for unemployment benefits, or other + significant changes affecting eligibility, including-- + (A) allowing an individual claiming a decrease of 20 + percent or more in income, or filing an application for + unemployment benefits, to have eligibility for the + credit determined on the basis of household income for a + later period or on the basis of the individual's + estimate of such income for the taxable year; and + (B) the determination of household income in cases + where the taxpayer was not required to file a return of + tax imposed by this chapter for the second preceding + taxable year. + + (c) <> Payment of Premium Tax Credits and +Cost-sharing Reductions.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary shall notify the Secretary of + the Treasury and the Exchange through which the individual is + enrolling of the advance determination under section 1411. + (2) Premium tax credit.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary of the Treasury shall + make the advance payment under this section of any + premium tax credit allowed under section 36B of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 to the issuer of a + qualified health plan on a monthly basis (or such other + periodic basis as the Secretary may provide). + (B) Issuer responsibilities.--An issuer of a + qualified health plan receiving an advance payment with + respect to an individual enrolled in the plan shall-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 233]] + + (i) reduce the premium charged the insured for + any period by the amount of the advance payment + for the period; + (ii) notify the Exchange and the Secretary of + such reduction; + (iii) include with each billing statement the + amount by which the premium for the plan has been + reduced by reason of the advance payment; and + (iv) in the case of any nonpayment of premiums + by the insured-- + (I) notify the Secretary of such + nonpayment; and + (II) allow a 3-month grace period + for nonpayment of premiums before + discontinuing coverage. + (3) Cost-sharing reductions.--The Secretary shall also + notify the Secretary of the Treasury and the Exchange under + paragraph (1) if an advance payment of the cost-sharing + reductions under section 1402 is to be made to the issuer of any + qualified health plan with respect to any individual enrolled in + the plan. The Secretary of the Treasury shall make such advance + payment at such time and in such amount as the Secretary + specifies in the notice. + + (d) No Federal Payments for Individuals Not Lawfully Present.-- +Nothing in this subtitle or the amendments made by this subtitle allows +Federal payments, credits, or cost-sharing reductions for individuals +who are not lawfully present in the United States. + (e) State Flexibility.--Nothing in this subtitle or the amendments +made by this subtitle shall be construed to prohibit a State from making +payments to or on behalf of an individual for coverage under a qualified +health plan offered through an Exchange that are in addition to any +credits or cost-sharing reductions allowable to the individual under +this subtitle and such amendments. + +SEC. 1413. <> STREAMLINING OF PROCEDURES FOR + ENROLLMENT THROUGH AN EXCHANGE AND STATE MEDICAID, CHIP, AND + HEALTH SUBSIDY PROGRAMS. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary shall establish a system meeting the +requirements of this section under which residents of each State may +apply for enrollment in, receive a determination of eligibility for +participation in, and continue participation in, applicable State health +subsidy programs. Such system shall ensure that if an individual +applying to an Exchange is found through screening to be eligible for +medical assistance under the State medicaid plan under title XIX, or +eligible for enrollment under a State children's health insurance +program (CHIP) under title XXI of such Act, the individual is enrolled +for assistance under such plan or program. + (b) Requirements Relating to Forms and Notice.-- + (1) Requirements relating to forms.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary shall develop and + provide to each State a single, streamlined form that-- + (i) may be used to apply for all applicable + State health subsidy programs within the State; + (ii) may be filed online, in person, by mail, + or by telephone; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 234]] + + (iii) may be filed with an Exchange or with + State officials operating one of the other + applicable State health subsidy programs; and + (iv) is structured to maximize an applicant's + ability to complete the form satisfactorily, + taking into account the characteristics of + individuals who qualify for applicable State + health subsidy programs. + (B) State authority to establish form.--A State may + develop and use its own single, streamlined form as an + alternative to the form developed under subparagraph (A) + if the alternative form is consistent with standards + promulgated by the Secretary under this section. + (C) Supplemental eligibility forms.--The Secretary + may allow a State to use a supplemental or alternative + form in the case of individuals who apply for + eligibility that is not determined on the basis of the + household income (as defined in section 36B of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986). + (2) Notice.--The Secretary shall provide that an applicant + filing a form under paragraph (1) shall receive notice of + eligibility for an applicable State health subsidy program + without any need to provide additional information or paperwork + unless such information or paperwork is specifically required by + law when information provided on the form is inconsistent with + data used for the electronic verification under paragraph (3) or + is otherwise insufficient to determine eligibility. + + (c) Requirements Relating to Eligibility Based on Data Exchanges.-- + (1) Development of secure interfaces.--Each State shall + develop for all applicable State health subsidy programs a + secure, electronic interface allowing an exchange of data + (including information contained in the application forms + described in subsection (b)) that allows a determination of + eligibility for all such programs based on a single application. + Such interface shall be compatible with the method established + for data verification under section 1411(c)(4). + (2) Data matching program.--Each applicable State health + subsidy program shall participate in a data matching arrangement + for determining eligibility for participation in the program + under paragraph (3) that-- + (A) provides access to data described in paragraph + (3); + (B) applies only to individuals who-- + (i) receive assistance from an applicable + State health subsidy program; or + (ii) apply for such assistance-- + (I) by filing a form described in + subsection (b); or + (II) by requesting a determination + of eligibility and authorizing + disclosure of the information described + in paragraph (3) to applicable State + health coverage subsidy programs for + purposes of determining and establishing + eligibility; and + (C) consistent with standards promulgated by the + Secretary, including the privacy and data security + safeguards described in section 1942 of the Social + Security Act or that are otherwise applicable to such + programs. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 235]] + + (3) Determination of eligibility.-- + (A) In general.--Each applicable State health + subsidy program shall, to the maximum extent + practicable-- + (i) establish, verify, and update eligibility + for participation in the program using the data + matching arrangement under paragraph (2); and + (ii) determine such eligibility on the basis + of reliable, third party data, including + information described in sections 1137, 453(i), + and 1942(a) of the Social Security Act, obtained + through such arrangement. + (B) Exception.--This paragraph shall not apply in + circumstances with respect to which the Secretary + determines that the administrative and other costs of + use of the data matching arrangement under paragraph (2) + outweigh its expected gains in accuracy, efficiency, and + program participation. + (4) Secretarial standards.--The Secretary shall, after + consultation with persons in possession of the data to be + matched and representatives of applicable State health subsidy + programs, promulgate standards governing the timing, contents, + and procedures for data matching described in this subsection. + Such standards shall take into account administrative and other + costs and the value of data matching to the establishment, + verification, and updating of eligibility for applicable State + health subsidy programs. + + (d) Administrative Authority.-- + (1) Agreements.--Subject to section 1411 and section + 6103(l)(21) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 and any other + requirement providing safeguards of privacy and data integrity, + the Secretary may establish model agreements, and enter into + agreements, for the sharing of data under this section. + (2) Authority of exchange to contract out.--Nothing in this + section shall be construed to-- + (A) prohibit contractual arrangements through which + a State medicaid agency determines eligibility for all + applicable State health subsidy programs, but only if + such agency complies with the Secretary's requirements + ensuring reduced administrative costs, eligibility + errors, and disruptions in coverage; or + (B) change any requirement under title XIX that + eligibility for participation in a State's medicaid + program must be determined by a public agency. + + (e) Applicable State Health Subsidy Program.--In this section, the +term ``applicable State health subsidy program'' means-- + (1) the program under this title for the enrollment in + qualified health plans offered through an Exchange, including + the premium tax credits under section 36B of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 and cost-sharing reductions under section + 1402; + (2) a State medicaid program under title XIX of the Social + Security Act; + (3) a State children's health insurance program (CHIP) under + title XXI of such Act; and + (4) a State program under section 1331 establishing + qualified basic health plans. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 236]] + +SEC. 1414. DISCLOSURES TO CARRY OUT ELIGIBILITY REQUIREMENTS FOR CERTAIN + PROGRAMS. + + (a) Disclosure of Taxpayer Return Information and Social Security +Numbers.-- + (1) Taxpayer return information.--Subsection (l) of section + 6103 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 <> is amended by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(21) Disclosure of return information to carry out + eligibility requirements for certain programs.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary, upon written + request from the Secretary of Health and Human Services, + shall disclose to officers, employees, and contractors + of the Department of Health and Human Services return + information of any taxpayer whose income is relevant in + determining any premium tax credit under section 36B or + any cost-sharing reduction under section 1402 of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act or + eligibility for participation in a State medicaid + program under title XIX of the Social Security Act, a + State's children's health insurance program under title + XXI of the Social Security Act, or a basic health + program under section 1331 of Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act. Such return information shall be + limited to-- + ``(i) taxpayer identity information with + respect to such taxpayer, + ``(ii) the filing status of such taxpayer, + ``(iii) the number of individuals for whom a + deduction is allowed under section 151 with + respect to the taxpayer (including the taxpayer + and the taxpayer's spouse), + ``(iv) the modified gross income (as defined + in section 36B) of such taxpayer and each of the + other individuals included under clause (iii) who + are required to file a return of tax imposed by + chapter 1 for the taxable year, + ``(v) such other information as is prescribed + by the Secretary by regulation as might indicate + whether the taxpayer is eligible for such credit + or reduction (and the amount thereof), and + ``(vi) the taxable year with respect to which + the preceding information relates or, if + applicable, the fact that such information is not + available. + ``(B) Information to exchange and state agencies.-- + The Secretary of Health and Human Services may disclose + to an Exchange established under the Patient Protection + and Affordable Care Act or its contractors, or to a + State agency administering a State program described in + subparagraph (A) or its contractors, any inconsistency + between the information provided by the Exchange or + State agency to the Secretary and the information + provided to the Secretary under subparagraph (A). + ``(C) Restriction on use of disclosed information.-- + Return information disclosed under subparagraph (A) or + (B) may be used by officers, employees, and contractors + of the Department of Health and Human Services, an + Exchange, or a State agency only for the purposes of, + and to the extent necessary in-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 237]] + + ``(i) establishing eligibility for + participation in the Exchange, and verifying the + appropriate amount of, any credit or reduction + described in subparagraph (A), + ``(ii) determining eligibility for + participation in the State programs described in + subparagraph (A).''. + (2) Social security numbers.--Section 205(c)(2)(C) of the + Social Security Act <> is amended by adding + at the end the following new clause: + ``(x) The Secretary of Health and Human + Services, and the Exchanges established under + section 1311 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act, are authorized to collect and + use the names and social security account numbers + of individuals as required to administer the + provisions of, and the amendments made by, the + such Act.''. + + (b) Confidentiality and Disclosure.--Paragraph (3) of section +6103(a) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``or +(20)'' and inserting ``(20), or (21)''. + + (c) Procedures and Recordkeeping Related to Disclosures.--Paragraph +(4) of section 6103(p) of such Code is amended-- + (1) by inserting ``, or any entity described in subsection + (l)(21),'' after ``or (20)'' in the matter preceding + subparagraph (A), + (2) by inserting ``or any entity described in subsection + (l)(21),'' after ``or (o)(1)(A)'' in subparagraph (F)(ii), and + (3) by inserting ``or any entity described in subsection + (l)(21),'' after ``or (20)'' both places it appears in the + matter after subparagraph (F). + + (d) Unauthorized Disclosure or Inspection.--Paragraph (2) of section +7213(a) of such Code is amended by striking ``or (20)'' and inserting +``(20), or (21)''. + +SEC. 1415. <> PREMIUM TAX CREDIT AND COST-SHARING + REDUCTION PAYMENTS DISREGARDED FOR FEDERAL AND FEDERALLY- + ASSISTED PROGRAMS. + + For purposes of determining the eligibility of any individual for +benefits or assistance, or the amount or extent of benefits or +assistance, under any Federal program or under any State or local +program financed in whole or in part with Federal funds-- + (1) any credit or refund allowed or made to any individual + by reason of section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 + (as added by section 1401) shall not be taken into account as + income and shall not be taken into account as resources for the + month of receipt and the following 2 months; and + (2) any cost-sharing reduction payment or advance payment of + the credit allowed under such section 36B that is made under + section 1402 or 1412 shall be treated as made to the qualified + health plan in which an individual is enrolled and not to that + individual. + + PART II--SMALL BUSINESS TAX CREDIT + +SEC. 1421. CREDIT FOR EMPLOYEE HEALTH INSURANCE EXPENSES OF SMALL + BUSINESSES. + + (a) In General.--Subpart D of part IV of subchapter A of chapter 1 +of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (relating to business- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 238]] + +related credits) is amended by inserting after section 45Q the +following: + +``SEC. 45R. <> EMPLOYEE HEALTH INSURANCE EXPENSES OF + SMALL EMPLOYERS. + + ``(a) General Rule.--For purposes of section 38, in the case of an +eligible small employer, the small employer health insurance credit +determined under this section for any taxable year in the credit period +is the amount determined under subsection (b). + ``(b) Health Insurance Credit Amount.--Subject to subsection (c), +the amount determined under this subsection with respect to any eligible +small employer is equal to 50 percent (35 percent in the case of a tax- +exempt eligible small employer) of the lesser of-- + ``(1) the aggregate amount of nonelective contributions the + employer made on behalf of its employees during the taxable year + under the arrangement described in subsection (d)(4) for + premiums for qualified health plans offered by the employer to + its employees through an Exchange, or + ``(2) the aggregate amount of nonelective contributions + which the employer would have made during the taxable year under + the arrangement if each employee taken into account under + paragraph (1) had enrolled in a qualified health plan which had + a premium equal to the average premium (as determined by the + Secretary of Health and Human Services) for the small group + market in the rating area in which the employee enrolls for + coverage. + + ``(c) Phaseout of Credit Amount Based on Number of Employees and +Average Wages.--The amount of the credit determined under subsection (b) +without regard to this subsection shall be reduced (but not below zero) +by the sum of the following amounts: + ``(1) Such amount multiplied by a fraction the numerator of + which is the total number of full-time equivalent employees of + the employer in excess of 10 and the denominator of which is 15. + ``(2) Such amount multiplied by a fraction the numerator of + which is the average annual wages of the employer in excess of + the dollar amount in effect under subsection (d)(3)(B) and the + denominator of which is such dollar amount. + + ``(d) Eligible Small Employer.--For purposes of this section-- + ``(1) In general.--The term `eligible small employer' means, + with respect to any taxable year, an employer-- + ``(A) which has no more than 25 full-time equivalent + employees for the taxable year, + ``(B) the average annual wages of which do not + exceed an amount equal to twice the dollar amount in + effect under paragraph (3)(B) for the taxable year, and + ``(C) which has in effect an arrangement described + in paragraph (4). + ``(2) Full-time equivalent employees.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `full-time equivalent + employees' means a number of employees equal to the + number determined by dividing-- + ``(i) the total number of hours of service for + which wages were paid by the employer to employees + during the taxable year, by + ``(ii) 2,080. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 239]] + + Such number shall be rounded to the next lowest whole + number if not otherwise a whole number. + ``(B) Excess hours not counted.--If an employee + works in excess of 2,080 hours of service during any + taxable year, such excess shall not be taken into + account under subparagraph (A). + ``(C) <> Hours of service.--The + Secretary, in consultation with the Secretary of Labor, + shall prescribe such regulations, rules, and guidance as + may be necessary to determine the hours of service of an + employee, including rules for the application of this + paragraph to employees who are not compensated on an + hourly basis. + ``(3) Average annual wages.-- + ``(A) In general.--The average annual wages of an + eligible small employer for any taxable year is the + amount determined by dividing-- + ``(i) the aggregate amount of wages which were + paid by the employer to employees during the + taxable year, by + ``(ii) the number of full-time equivalent + employees of the employee determined under + paragraph (2) for the taxable year. + Such amount shall be rounded to the next lowest multiple + of $1,000 if not otherwise such a multiple. + ``(B) Dollar amount.--For purposes of paragraph + (1)(B)-- + ``(i) 2011, 2012, and 2013.--The dollar amount + in effect under this paragraph for taxable years + beginning in 2011, 2012, or 2013 is $20,000. + ``(ii) Subsequent years.--In the case of a + taxable year beginning in a calendar year after + 2013, the dollar amount in effect under this + paragraph shall be equal to $20,000, multiplied by + the cost-of-living adjustment determined under + section 1(f)(3) for the calendar year, determined + by substituting `calendar year 2012' for `calendar + year 1992' in subparagraph (B) thereof. + ``(4) Contribution arrangement.--An arrangement is described + in this paragraph if it requires an eligible small employer to + make a nonelective contribution on behalf of each employee who + enrolls in a qualified health plan offered to employees by the + employer through an exchange in an amount equal to a uniform + percentage (not less than 50 percent) of the premium cost of the + qualified health plan. + ``(5) Seasonal worker hours and wages not counted.--For + purposes of this subsection-- + ``(A) In general.--The number of hours of service + worked by, and wages paid to, a seasonal worker of an + employer shall not be taken into account in determining + the full-time equivalent employees and average annual + wages of the employer unless the worker works for the + employer on more than 120 days during the taxable year. + ``(B) Definition of seasonal worker.--The term + `seasonal worker' means a worker who performs labor or + services on a seasonal basis as defined by the Secretary + of Labor, including workers covered by section + 500.20(s)(1) of title 29, Code of Federal Regulations + and retail workers employed exclusively during holiday + seasons. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 240]] + + ``(e) Other Rules and Definitions.--For purposes of this section-- + ``(1) Employee.-- + ``(A) Certain employees excluded.--The term + `employee' shall not include-- + ``(i) an employee within the meaning of + section 401(c)(1), + ``(ii) any 2-percent shareholder (as defined + in section 1372(b)) of an eligible small business + which is an S corporation, + ``(iii) any 5-percent owner (as defined in + section 416(i)(1)(B)(i)) of an eligible small + business, or + ``(iv) any individual who bears any of the + relationships described in subparagraphs (A) + through (G) of section 152(d)(2) to, or is a + dependent described in section 152(d)(2)(H) of, an + individual described in clause (i), (ii), or + (iii). + ``(B) Leased employees.--The term `employee' shall + include a leased employee within the meaning of section + 414(n). + ``(2) Credit period.--The term `credit period' means, with + respect to any eligible small employer, the 2-consecutive- + taxable year period beginning with the 1st taxable year in which + the employer (or any predecessor) offers 1 or more qualified + health plans to its employees through an Exchange. + ``(3) Nonelective contribution.--The term `nonelective + contribution' means an employer contribution other than an + employer contribution pursuant to a salary reduction + arrangement. + ``(4) Wages.--The term `wages' has the meaning given such + term by section 3121(a) (determined without regard to any dollar + limitation contained in such section). + ``(5) Aggregation and other rules made applicable.-- + ``(A) Aggregation rules.--All employers treated as a + single employer under subsection (b), (c), (m), or (o) + of section 414 shall be treated as a single employer for + purposes of this section. + ``(B) <> Other rules.--Rules + similar to the rules of subsections (c), (d), and (e) of + section 52 shall apply. + + ``(f) Credit Made Available to Tax-exempt Eligible Small +Employers.-- + ``(1) In general.--In the case of a tax-exempt eligible + small employer, there shall be treated as a credit allowable + under subpart C (and not allowable under this subpart) the + lesser of-- + ``(A) the amount of the credit determined under this + section with respect to such employer, or + ``(B) the amount of the payroll taxes of the + employer during the calendar year in which the taxable + year begins. + ``(2) Tax-exempt eligible small employer.--For purposes of + this section, the term `tax-exempt eligible small employer' + means an eligible small employer which is any organization + described in section 501(c) which is exempt from taxation under + section 501(a). + ``(3) Payroll taxes.--For purposes of this subsection-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `payroll taxes' means-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 241]] + + ``(i) amounts required to be withheld from the + employees of the tax-exempt eligible small + employer under section 3401(a), + ``(ii) amounts required to be withheld from + such employees under section 3101(b), and + ``(iii) amounts of the taxes imposed on the + tax-exempt eligible small employer under section + 3111(b). + ``(B) <> Special rule.--A + rule similar to the rule of section 24(d)(2)(C) shall + apply for purposes of subparagraph (A). + + ``(g) Application of Section for Calendar Years 2011, 2012, and +2013.--In the case of any taxable year beginning in 2011, 2012, or 2013, +the following modifications to this section shall apply in determining +the amount of the credit under subsection (a): + ``(1) No credit period required.--The credit shall be + determined without regard to whether the taxable year is in a + credit period and for purposes of applying this section to + taxable years beginning after 2013, no credit period shall be + treated as beginning with a taxable year beginning before 2014. + ``(2) Amount of credit.--The amount of the credit determined + under subsection (b) shall be determined-- + ``(A) by substituting `35 percent (25 percent in the + case of a tax-exempt eligible small employer)' for `50 + percent (35 percent in the case of a tax-exempt eligible + small employer)', + ``(B) by reference to an eligible small employer's + nonelective contributions for premiums paid for health + insurance coverage (within the meaning of section + 9832(b)(1)) of an employee, and + ``(C) <> by substituting for + the average premium determined under subsection (b)(2) + the amount the Secretary of Health and Human Services + determines is the average premium for the small group + market in the State in which the employer is offering + health insurance coverage (or for such area within the + State as is specified by the Secretary). + ``(3) Contribution arrangement.--An arrangement shall not + fail to meet the requirements of subsection (d)(4) solely + because it provides for the offering of insurance outside of an + Exchange. + + ``(h) Insurance Definitions.--Any term used in this section which is +also used in the Public Health Service Act or subtitle A of title I of +the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act shall have the meaning +given such term by such Act or subtitle. + ``(i) Regulations.--The Secretary shall prescribe such regulations +as may be necessary to carry out the provisions of this section, +including regulations to prevent the avoidance of the 2-year limit on +the credit period through the use of successor entities and the +avoidance of the limitations under subsection (c) through the use of +multiple entities.''. + (b) Credit To Be Part of General Business Credit.--Section 38(b) of +the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 <> (relating to +current year business credit) is amended by striking ``plus'' at the end +of paragraph (34), by striking the period at the end of paragraph (35) +and inserting ``, plus'', and by inserting after paragraph (35) the +following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 242]] + + ``(36) the small employer health insurance credit determined + under section 45R.''. + + (c) Credit Allowed Against Alternative Minimum Tax.--Section +38(c)(4)(B) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (defining specified +credits) <> is amended by redesignating clauses (vi), +(vii), and (viii) as clauses (vii), (viii), and (ix), respectively, and +by inserting after clause (v) the following new clause: + ``(vi) the credit determined under section + 45R,''. + + (d) Disallowance of Deduction for Certain Expenses for Which Credit +Allowed.-- + (1) In general.--Section 280C of the Internal Revenue Code + of 1986 (relating to disallowance of deduction for certain + expenses for which credit allowed), as amended by section + 1401(b), is amended by adding at the end the following new + subsection: + + ``(h) Credit for Employee Health Insurance Expenses of Small +Employers.--No deduction shall be allowed for that portion of the +premiums for qualified health plans (as defined in section 1301(a) of +the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act), or for health insurance +coverage in the case of taxable years beginning in 2011, 2012, or 2013, +paid by an employer which is equal to the amount of the credit +determined under section 45R(a) with respect to the premiums.''. + (2) Deduction for expiring credits.--Section 196(c) of such + Code is amended by striking ``and'' at the end of paragraph + (12), by striking the period at the end of paragraph (13) and + inserting ``, and'', and by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(14) the small employer health insurance credit determined + under section 45R(a).''. + + (e) Clerical Amendment.--The table of sections for subpart D of part +IV of subchapter A of chapter 1 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is +amended by adding at the end the following: + +``Sec. 45R. Employee health insurance expenses of small employers.''. + + (f) <> Effective Dates.-- + (1) In general.--The amendments made by this section shall + apply to amounts paid or incurred in taxable years beginning + after December 31, 2010. + (2) Minimum tax.--The amendments made by subsection (c) + shall apply to credits determined under section 45R of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 in taxable years beginning after + December 31, 2010, and to carrybacks of such credits. + + Subtitle F--Shared Responsibility for Health Care + + PART I--INDIVIDUAL RESPONSIBILITY + +SEC. 1501. <> REQUIREMENT TO MAINTAIN MINIMUM + ESSENTIAL COVERAGE. + + (a) Findings.--Congress makes the following findings: + (1) In general.--The individual responsibility requirement + provided for in this section (in this subsection referred to as + the ``requirement'') is commercial and economic in nature, and + substantially affects interstate commerce, as a result of the + effects described in paragraph (2). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 243]] + + (2) Effects on the national economy and interstate + commerce.--The effects described in this paragraph are the + following: + (A) The requirement regulates activity that is + commercial and economic in nature: economic and + financial decisions about how and when health care is + paid for, and when health insurance is purchased. + (B) Health insurance and health care services are a + significant part of the national economy. National + health spending is projected to increase from + $2,500,000,000,000, or 17.6 percent of the economy, in + 2009 to $4,700,000,000,000 in 2019. Private health + insurance spending is projected to be $854,000,000,000 + in 2009, and pays for medical supplies, drugs, and + equipment that are shipped in interstate commerce. Since + most health insurance is sold by national or regional + health insurance companies, health insurance is sold in + interstate commerce and claims payments flow through + interstate commerce. + (C) The requirement, together with the other + provisions of this Act, will add millions of new + consumers to the health insurance market, increasing the + supply of, and demand for, health care services. + According to the Congressional Budget Office, the + requirement will increase the number and share of + Americans who are insured. + (D) The requirement achieves near-universal coverage + by building upon and strengthening the private employer- + based health insurance system, which covers 176,000,000 + Americans nationwide. In Massachusetts, a similar + requirement has strengthened private employer-based + coverage: despite the economic downturn, the number of + workers offered employer-based coverage has actually + increased. + (E) Half of all personal bankruptcies are caused in + part by medical expenses. By significantly increasing + health insurance coverage, the requirement, together + with the other provisions of this Act, will improve + financial security for families. + (F) Under the Employee Retirement Income Security + Act of 1974 (29 U.S.C. 1001 et seq.), the Public Health + Service Act (42 U.S.C. 201 et seq.), and this Act, the + Federal Government has a significant role in regulating + health insurance which is in interstate commerce. + (G) Under sections 2704 and 2705 of the Public + Health Service Act (as added by section 1201 of this + Act), if there were no requirement, many individuals + would wait to purchase health insurance until they + needed care. By significantly increasing health + insurance coverage, the requirement, together with the + other provisions of this Act, will minimize this adverse + selection and broaden the health insurance risk pool to + include healthy individuals, which will lower health + insurance premiums. The requirement is essential to + creating effective health insurance markets in which + improved health insurance products that are guaranteed + issue and do not exclude coverage of pre-existing + conditions can be sold. + (H) Administrative costs for private health + insurance, which were $90,000,000,000 in 2006, are 26 to + 30 percent of premiums in the current individual and + small group + +[[Page 124 STAT. 244]] + + markets. By significantly increasing health insurance + coverage and the size of purchasing pools, which will + increase economies of scale, the requirement, together + with the other provisions of this Act, will + significantly reduce administrative costs and lower + health insurance premiums. The requirement is essential + to creating effective health insurance markets that do + not require underwriting and eliminate its associated + administrative costs. + (3) Supreme court ruling.--In United States v. South-Eastern + Underwriters Association (322 U.S. 533 (1944)), the Supreme + Court of the United States ruled that insurance is interstate + commerce subject to Federal regulation. + + (b) In General.--Subtitle D of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is +amended by adding at the end the following new chapter: + + ``CHAPTER 48--MAINTENANCE OF MINIMUM ESSENTIAL COVERAGE + +``Sec. 5000A. Requirement to maintain minimum essential coverage. + +``SEC. 5000A. <> REQUIREMENT TO MAINTAIN MINIMUM + ESSENTIAL COVERAGE. + + ``(a) Requirement To Maintain Minimum Essential Coverage.--An +applicable individual shall for each month beginning after 2013 ensure +that the individual, and any dependent of the individual who is an +applicable individual, is covered under minimum essential coverage for +such month. + ``(b) Shared Responsibility Payment.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> If an applicable + individual fails to meet the requirement of subsection (a) for 1 + or more months during any calendar year beginning after 2013, + then, except as provided in subsection (d), there is hereby + imposed a penalty with respect to the individual in the amount + determined under subsection (c). + ``(2) Inclusion with return.--Any penalty imposed by this + section with respect to any month shall be included with a + taxpayer's return under chapter 1 for the taxable year which + includes such month. + ``(3) Payment of penalty.--If an individual with respect to + whom a penalty is imposed by this section for any month-- + ``(A) is a dependent (as defined in section 152) of + another taxpayer for the other taxpayer's taxable year + including such month, such other taxpayer shall be + liable for such penalty, or + ``(B) files a joint return for the taxable year + including such month, such individual and the spouse of + such individual shall be jointly liable for such + penalty. + + ``(c) Amount of Penalty.-- + ``(1) In general.--The penalty determined under this + subsection for any month with respect to any individual is an + amount equal to \1/12\ of the applicable dollar amount for the + calendar year. + ``(2) Dollar limitation.--The amount of the penalty imposed + by this section on any taxpayer for any taxable year with + respect to all individuals for whom the taxpayer is liable under + subsection (b)(3) shall not exceed an amount equal to 300 + percent the applicable dollar amount (determined without + +[[Page 124 STAT. 245]] + + regard to paragraph (3)(C)) for the calendar year with or within + which the taxable year ends. + ``(3) Applicable dollar amount.--For purposes of paragraph + (1)-- + ``(A) In general.--Except as provided in + subparagraphs (B) and (C), the applicable dollar amount + is $750. + ``(B) Phase in.--The applicable dollar amount is $95 + for 2014 and $350 for 2015. + ``(C) Special rule for individuals under age 18.--If + an applicable individual has not attained the age of 18 + as of the beginning of a month, the applicable dollar + amount with respect to such individual for the month + shall be equal to one-half of the applicable dollar + amount for the calendar year in which the month occurs. + ``(D) Indexing of amount.--In the case of any + calendar year beginning after 2016, the applicable + dollar amount shall be equal to $750, increased by an + amount equal to-- + ``(i) $750, multiplied by + ``(ii) the cost-of-living adjustment + determined under section 1(f)(3) for the calendar + year, determined by substituting `calendar year + 2015' for `calendar year 1992' in subparagraph (B) + thereof. + If the amount of any increase under clause (i) is not a + multiple of $50, such increase shall be rounded to the + next lowest multiple of $50. + ``(4) Terms relating to income and families.--For purposes + of this section-- + ``(A) Family size.--The family size involved with + respect to any taxpayer shall be equal to the number of + individuals for whom the taxpayer is allowed a deduction + under section 151 (relating to allowance of deduction + for personal exemptions) for the taxable year. + ``(B) Household income.--The term `household income' + means, with respect to any taxpayer for any taxable + year, an amount equal to the sum of-- + ``(i) the modified gross income of the + taxpayer, plus + ``(ii) the aggregate modified gross incomes of + all other individuals who-- + ``(I) were taken into account in + determining the taxpayer's family size + under paragraph (1), and + ``(II) were required to file a + return of tax imposed by section 1 for + the taxable year. + ``(C) Modified gross income.--The term `modified + gross income' means gross income-- + ``(i) decreased by the amount of any deduction + allowable under paragraph (1), (3), (4), or (10) + of section 62(a), + ``(ii) increased by the amount of interest + received or accrued during the taxable year which + is exempt from tax imposed by this chapter, and + ``(iii) determined without regard to sections + 911, 931, and 933. + ``(D) Poverty line.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 246]] + + ``(i) In general.--The term `poverty line' has + the meaning given that term in section 2110(c)(5) + of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1397jj(c)(5)). + ``(ii) Poverty line used.--In the case of any + taxable year ending with or within a calendar + year, the poverty line used shall be the most + recently published poverty line as of the 1st day + of such calendar year. + + ``(d) Applicable Individual.--For purposes of this section-- + ``(1) In general.--The term `applicable individual' means, + with respect to any month, an individual other than an + individual described in paragraph (2), (3), or (4). + ``(2) Religious exemptions.-- + ``(A) Religious conscience exemption.--Such term + shall not include any individual for any month if such + individual has in effect an exemption under section + 1311(d)(4)(H) of the Patient Protection and Affordable + Care Act which certifies that such individual is a + member of a recognized religious sect or division + thereof described in section 1402(g)(1) and an adherent + of established tenets or teachings of such sect or + division as described in such section. + ``(B) Health care sharing ministry.-- + ``(i) In general.--Such term shall not include + any individual for any month if such individual is + a member of a health care sharing ministry for the + month. + ``(ii) Health care sharing ministry.--The term + `health care sharing ministry' means an + organization-- + ``(I) which is described in section + 501(c)(3) and is exempt from taxation + under section 501(a), + ``(II) members of which share a + common set of ethical or religious + beliefs and share medical expenses among + members in accordance with those beliefs + and without regard to the State in which + a member resides or is employed, + ``(III) members of which retain + membership even after they develop a + medical condition, + ``(IV) which (or a predecessor of + which) has been in existence at all + times since December 31, 1999, and + medical expenses of its members have + been shared continuously and without + interruption since at least December 31, + 1999, and + ``(V) which conducts an annual audit + which is performed by an independent + certified public accounting firm in + accordance with generally accepted + accounting principles and which is made + available to the public upon request. + ``(3) Individuals not lawfully present.--Such term shall not + include an individual for any month if for the month the + individual is not a citizen or national of the United States or + an alien lawfully present in the United States. + ``(4) Incarcerated individuals.--Such term shall not include + an individual for any month if for the month the individual is + incarcerated, other than incarceration pending the disposition + of charges. + + ``(e) Exemptions.--No penalty shall be imposed under subsection (a) +with respect to-- + ``(1) Individuals who cannot afford coverage.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 247]] + + ``(A) In general.--Any applicable individual for any + month if the applicable individual's required + contribution (determined on an annual basis) for + coverage for the month exceeds 8 percent of such + individual's household income for the taxable year + described in section 1412(b)(1)(B) of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act. For purposes of + applying this subparagraph, the taxpayer's household + income shall be increased by any exclusion from gross + income for any portion of the required contribution made + through a salary reduction arrangement. + ``(B) <> Required + contribution.--For purposes of this paragraph, the term + `required contribution' means-- + ``(i) in the case of an individual eligible to + purchase minimum essential coverage consisting of + coverage through an eligible-employer-sponsored + plan, the portion of the annual premium which + would be paid by the individual (without regard to + whether paid through salary reduction or + otherwise) for self-only coverage, or + ``(ii) in the case of an individual eligible + only to purchase minimum essential coverage + described in subsection (f)(1)(C), the annual + premium for the lowest cost bronze plan available + in the individual market through the Exchange in + the State in the rating area in which the + individual resides (without regard to whether the + individual purchased a qualified health plan + through the Exchange), reduced by the amount of + the credit allowable under section 36B for the + taxable year (determined as if the individual was + covered by a qualified health plan offered through + the Exchange for the entire taxable year). + ``(C) Special rules for individuals related to + employees.--For purposes of subparagraph (B)(i), if an + applicable individual is eligible for minimum essential + coverage through an employer by reason of a relationship + to an employee, the determination shall be made by + reference to the affordability of the coverage to the + employee. + ``(D) <> + Indexing.--In the case of plan years beginning in any + calendar year after 2014, subparagraph (A) shall be + applied by substituting for `8 percent' the percentage + the Secretary of Health and Human Services determines + reflects the excess of the rate of premium growth + between the preceding calendar year and 2013 over the + rate of income growth for such period. + ``(2) Taxpayers with income under 100 percent of poverty + line.--Any applicable individual for any month during a calendar + year if the individual's household income for the taxable year + described in section 1412(b)(1)(B) of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act is less than 100 percent of the poverty line + for the size of the family involved (determined in the same + manner as under subsection (b)(4)). + ``(3) Members of indian tribes.--Any applicable individual + for any month during which the individual is a member of an + Indian tribe (as defined in section 45A(c)(6)). + ``(4) Months during short coverage gaps.-- + ``(A) In general.--Any month the last day of which + occurred during a period in which the applicable + individual + +[[Page 124 STAT. 248]] + + was not covered by minimum essential coverage for a + continuous period of less than 3 months. + ``(B) <> Special rules.--For + purposes of applying this paragraph-- + ``(i) the length of a continuous period shall + be determined without regard to the calendar years + in which months in such period occur, + ``(ii) if a continuous period is greater than + the period allowed under subparagraph (A), no + exception shall be provided under this paragraph + for any month in the period, and + ``(iii) if there is more than 1 continuous + period described in subparagraph (A) covering + months in a calendar year, the exception provided + by this paragraph shall only apply to months in + the first of such periods. + The Secretary shall prescribe rules for the collection + of the penalty imposed by this section in cases where + continuous periods include months in more than 1 taxable + year. + ``(5) Hardships.--Any applicable individual who for any + month is determined by the Secretary of Health and Human + Services under section 1311(d)(4)(H) to have suffered a hardship + with respect to the capability to obtain coverage under a + qualified health plan. + + ``(f) Minimum Essential Coverage.--For purposes of this section-- + ``(1) <> In general.--The term `minimum + essential coverage' means any of the following: + ``(A) Government sponsored programs.--Coverage + under-- + ``(i) the Medicare program under part A of + title XVIII of the Social Security Act, + ``(ii) the Medicaid program under title XIX of + the Social Security Act, + ``(iii) the CHIP program under title XXI of + the Social Security Act, + ``(iv) the TRICARE for Life program, + ``(v) the veteran's health care program under + chapter 17 of title 38, United States Code, or + ``(vi) a health plan under section 2504(e) of + title 22, United States Code (relating to Peace + Corps volunteers). + ``(B) Employer-sponsored plan.--Coverage under an + eligible employer-sponsored plan. + ``(C) Plans in the individual market.--Coverage + under a health plan offered in the individual market + within a State. + ``(D) Grandfathered health plan.--Coverage under a + grandfathered health plan. + ``(E) Other coverage.--Such other health benefits + coverage, such as a State health benefits risk pool, as + the Secretary of Health and Human Services, in + coordination with the Secretary, recognizes for purposes + of this subsection. + ``(2) Eligible employer-sponsored plan.--The term `eligible + employer-sponsored plan' means, with respect to any + +[[Page 124 STAT. 249]] + + employee, a group health plan or group health insurance coverage + offered by an employer to the employee which is-- + ``(A) a governmental plan (within the meaning of + section 2791(d)(8) of the Public Health Service Act), or + ``(B) any other plan or coverage offered in the + small or large group market within a State. + Such term shall include a grandfathered health plan described in + paragraph (1)(D) offered in a group market. + ``(3) Excepted benefits not treated as minimum essential + coverage.--The term `minimum essential coverage' shall not + include health insurance coverage which consists of coverage of + excepted benefits-- + ``(A) described in paragraph (1) of subsection (c) + of section 2791 of the Public Health Service Act; or + ``(B) described in paragraph (2), (3), or (4) of + such subsection if the benefits are provided under a + separate policy, certificate, or contract of insurance. + ``(4) Individuals residing outside united states or + residents of territories.--Any applicable individual shall be + treated as having minimum essential coverage for any month-- + ``(A) if such month occurs during any period + described in subparagraph (A) or (B) of section + 911(d)(1) which is applicable to the individual, or + ``(B) if such individual is a bona fide resident of + any possession of the United States (as determined under + section 937(a)) for such month. + ``(5) Insurance-related terms.--Any term used in this + section which is also used in title I of the Patient Protection + and Affordable Care Act shall have the same meaning as when used + in such title. + + ``(g) Administration and Procedure.-- + ``(1) In general.--The penalty provided by this section + shall be paid upon notice and demand by the Secretary, and + except as provided in paragraph (2), shall be assessed and + collected in the same manner as an assessable penalty under + subchapter B of chapter 68. + ``(2) Special rules.--Notwithstanding any other provision of + law-- + ``(A) Waiver of criminal penalties.--In the case of + any failure by a taxpayer to timely pay any penalty + imposed by this section, such taxpayer shall not be + subject to any criminal prosecution or penalty with + respect to such failure. + ``(B) Limitations on liens and levies.--The + Secretary shall not-- + ``(i) file notice of lien with respect to any + property of a taxpayer by reason of any failure to + pay the penalty imposed by this section, or + ``(ii) levy on any such property with respect + to such failure.''. + + (c) Clerical Amendment.--The table of chapters for subtitle D of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is amended by inserting after the item +relating to chapter 47 the following new item: + + ``Chapter 48--Maintenance of Minimum Essential Coverage.''. + + (d) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to taxable years ending after December +31, 2013. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 250]] + +SEC. 1502. REPORTING OF HEALTH INSURANCE COVERAGE. + + (a) In General.--Part III of subchapter A of chapter 61 of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is amended by inserting after subpart C +the following new subpart: + + ``Subpart D--Information Regarding Health Insurance Coverage + +``Sec. 6055. Reporting of health insurance coverage. + +``SEC. 6055. <> REPORTING OF HEALTH INSURANCE + COVERAGE. + + ``(a) In General.--Every person who provides minimum essential +coverage to an individual during a calendar year shall, at such time as +the Secretary may prescribe, make a return described in subsection (b). + ``(b) Form and Manner of Return.-- + ``(1) In general.--A return is described in this subsection + if such return-- + ``(A) is in such form as the Secretary may + prescribe, and + ``(B) contains-- + ``(i) the name, address and TIN of the primary + insured and the name and TIN of each other + individual obtaining coverage under the policy, + ``(ii) the dates during which such individual + was covered under minimum essential coverage + during the calendar year, + ``(iii) in the case of minimum essential + coverage which consists of health insurance + coverage, information concerning-- + ``(I) whether or not the coverage is + a qualified health plan offered through + an Exchange established under section + 1311 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act, and + ``(II) in the case of a qualified + health plan, the amount (if any) of any + advance payment under section 1412 of + the Patient Protection and Affordable + Care Act of any cost-sharing reduction + under section 1402 of such Act or of any + premium tax credit under section 36B + with respect to such coverage, and + ``(iv) such other information as the Secretary + may require. + ``(2) Information relating to employer-provided coverage.-- + If minimum essential coverage provided to an individual under + subsection (a) consists of health insurance coverage of a health + insurance issuer provided through a group health plan of an + employer, a return described in this subsection shall include-- + ``(A) the name, address, and employer identification + number of the employer maintaining the plan, + ``(B) the portion of the premium (if any) required + to be paid by the employer, and + ``(C) if the health insurance coverage is a + qualified health plan in the small group market offered + through an Exchange, such other information as the + Secretary may require for administration of the credit + under section 45R + +[[Page 124 STAT. 251]] + + (relating to credit for employee health insurance + expenses of small employers). + + ``(c) Statements To Be Furnished to Individuals With Respect to Whom +Information Is Reported.-- + ``(1) In general.--Every person required to make a return + under subsection (a) shall furnish to each individual whose name + is required to be set forth in such return a written statement + showing-- + ``(A) the name and address of the person required to + make such return and the phone number of the information + contact for such person, and + ``(B) the information required to be shown on the + return with respect to such individual. + ``(2) Time for furnishing statements.--The written statement + required under paragraph (1) shall be furnished on or before + January 31 of the year following the calendar year for which the + return under subsection (a) was required to be made. + + ``(d) Coverage Provided by Governmental Units.--In the case of +coverage provided by any governmental unit or any agency or +instrumentality thereof, the officer or employee who enters into the +agreement to provide such coverage (or the person appropriately +designated for purposes of this section) shall make the returns and +statements required by this section. + ``(e) Minimum Essential Coverage.--For purposes of this section, the +term `minimum essential coverage' has the meaning given such term by +section 5000A(f).''. + (b) Assessable Penalties.-- + (1) Subparagraph (B) of section 6724(d)(1) of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 <> (relating to + definitions) is amended by striking ``or'' at the end of clause + (xxii), by striking ``and'' at the end of clause (xxiii) and + inserting ``or'', and by inserting after clause (xxiii) the + following new clause: + ``(xxiv) section 6055 (relating to returns + relating to information regarding health insurance + coverage), and''. + (2) Paragraph (2) of section 6724(d) of such Code is amended + by striking ``or'' at the end of subparagraph (EE), by striking + the period at the end of subparagraph (FF) and inserting ``, + or'' and by inserting after subparagraph (FF) the following new + subparagraph: + ``(GG) section 6055(c) (relating to statements + relating to information regarding health insurance + coverage).''. + + (c) Notification of Nonenrollment.-- <> Not later than June 30 of each year, the Secretary of the +Treasury, acting through the Internal Revenue Service and in +consultation with the Secretary of Health and Human Services, shall send +a notification to each individual who files an individual income tax +return and who is not enrolled in minimum essential coverage (as defined +in section 5000A of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986). Such +notification shall contain information on the services available through +the Exchange operating in the State in which such individual resides. + + (d) Conforming Amendment.--The table of subparts for part III of +subchapter A of chapter 61 of such Code is amended by inserting after +the item relating to subpart C the following new item: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 252]] + + ``subpart d--information regarding health insurance coverage''. + + (e) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to calendar years beginning after 2013. + + PART II--EMPLOYER RESPONSIBILITIES + +SEC. 1511. AUTOMATIC ENROLLMENT FOR EMPLOYEES OF LARGE EMPLOYERS. + + The Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938 is amended by inserting after +section 18 (29 U.S.C. 218) the following: + +``SEC. 18A. <> AUTOMATIC ENROLLMENT FOR EMPLOYEES + OF LARGE EMPLOYERS. + + ``In accordance with regulations promulgated by the Secretary, an +employer to which this Act applies that has more than 200 full-time +employees and that offers employees enrollment in 1 or more health +benefits plans shall automatically enroll new full-time employees in one +of the plans offered (subject to any waiting period authorized by law) +and to continue the enrollment of current employees in a health benefits +plan offered through the employer. Any automatic enrollment program +shall include adequate notice and the opportunity for an employee to opt +out of any coverage the individual or employee were automatically +enrolled in. Nothing in this section shall be construed to supersede any +State law which establishes, implements, or continues in effect any +standard or requirement relating to employers in connection with payroll +except to the extent that such standard or requirement prevents an +employer from instituting the automatic enrollment program under this +section.''. + +SEC. 1512. EMPLOYER REQUIREMENT TO INFORM EMPLOYEES OF COVERAGE OPTIONS. + + The Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938 is amended by inserting after +section 18A (as added by section 1513) the following: + +``SEC. 18B. <> NOTICE TO EMPLOYEES. + + ``(a) In General.-- <> In accordance with +regulations promulgated by the Secretary, an employer to which this Act +applies, shall provide to each employee at the time of hiring (or with +respect to current employees, not later than March 1, 2013), written +notice-- + ``(1) informing the employee of the existence of an + Exchange, including a description of the services provided by + such Exchange, and the manner in which the employee may contact + the Exchange to request assistance; + ``(2) if the employer plan's share of the total allowed + costs of benefits provided under the plan is less than 60 + percent of such costs, that the employee may be eligible for a + premium tax credit under section 36B of the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986 and a cost sharing reduction under section 1402 of + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act if the employee + purchases a qualified health plan through the Exchange; and + ``(3) if the employee purchases a qualified health plan + through the Exchange, the employee will lose the employer + contribution (if any) to any health benefits plan offered by the + employer and that all or a portion of such contribution may be + excludable from income for Federal income tax purposes. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 253]] + + ``(b) Effective Date.--Subsection (a) shall take effect with respect +to employers in a State beginning on March 1, 2013.''. + +SEC. 1513. SHARED RESPONSIBILITY FOR EMPLOYERS. + + (a) In General.--Chapter 43 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is +amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 4980H. <> SHARED RESPONSIBILITY FOR + EMPLOYERS REGARDING HEALTH COVERAGE. + + ``(a) Large Employers Not Offering Health Coverage.--If-- + ``(1) any applicable large employer fails to offer to its + full-time employees (and their dependents) the opportunity to + enroll in minimum essential coverage under an eligible employer- + sponsored plan (as defined in section 5000A(f)(2)) for any + month, and + ``(2) at least one full-time employee of the applicable + large employer has been certified to the employer under section + 1411 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act as having + enrolled for such month in a qualified health plan with respect + to which an applicable premium tax credit or cost-sharing + reduction is allowed or paid with respect to the employee, + +then there is hereby imposed on the employer an assessable payment equal +to the product of the applicable payment amount and the number of +individuals employed by the employer as full-time employees during such +month. + ``(b) Large Employers With Waiting Periods Exceeding 30 Days.-- + ``(1) In general.--In the case of any applicable large + employer which requires an extended waiting period to enroll in + any minimum essential coverage under an employer-sponsored plan + (as defined in section 5000A(f)(2)), there is hereby imposed on + the employer an assessable payment, in the amount specified in + paragraph (2), for each full-time employee of the employer to + whom the extended waiting period applies. + ``(2) Amount.--For purposes of paragraph (1), the amount + specified in this paragraph for a full-time employee is-- + ``(A) in the case of an extended waiting period + which exceeds 30 days but does not exceed 60 days, $400, + and + ``(B) in the case of an extended waiting period + which exceeds 60 days, $600. + ``(3) Extended waiting period.--The term `extended waiting + period' means any waiting period (as defined in section + 2701(b)(4) of the Public Health Service Act) which exceeds 30 + days. + + ``(c) Large Employers Offering Coverage With Employees Who Qualify +for Premium Tax Credits or Cost-sharing Reductions.-- + ``(1) In general.--If-- + ``(A) an applicable large employer offers to its + full-time employees (and their dependents) the + opportunity to enroll in minimum essential coverage + under an eligible employer-sponsored plan (as defined in + section 5000A(f)(2)) for any month, and + ``(B) 1 or more full-time employees of the + applicable large employer has been certified to the + employer under section 1411 of the Patient Protection + and Affordable Care Act as having enrolled for such + month in a qualified health + +[[Page 124 STAT. 254]] + + plan with respect to which an applicable premium tax + credit or cost-sharing reduction is allowed or paid with + respect to the employee, + then there is hereby imposed on the employer an assessable + payment equal to the product of the number of full-time + employees of the applicable large employer described in + subparagraph (B) for such month and 400 percent of the + applicable payment amount. + ``(2) Overall limitation.--The aggregate amount of tax + determined under paragraph (1) with respect to all employees of + an applicable large employer for any month shall not exceed the + product of the applicable payment amount and the number of + individuals employed by the employer as full-time employees + during such month. + + ``(d) Definitions and Special Rules.--For purposes of this section-- + ``(1) Applicable payment amount.--The term `applicable + payment amount' means, with respect to any month, \1/12\ of + $750. + ``(2) Applicable large employer.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `applicable large + employer' means, with respect to a calendar year, an + employer who employed an average of at least 50 full- + time employees on business days during the preceding + calendar year. + ``(B) Exemption for certain employers.-- + ``(i) In general.--An employer shall not be + considered to employ more than 50 full-time + employees if-- + ``(I) the employer's workforce + exceeds 50 full-time employees for 120 + days or fewer during the calendar year, + and + ``(II) the employees in excess of 50 + employed during such 120-day period were + seasonal workers. + ``(ii) Definition of seasonal workers.--The + term `seasonal worker' means a worker who performs + labor or services on a seasonal basis as defined + by the Secretary of Labor, including workers + covered by section 500.20(s)(1) of title 29, Code + of Federal Regulations and retail workers employed + exclusively during holiday seasons. + ``(C) Rules for determining employer size.--For + purposes of this paragraph-- + ``(i) Application of aggregation rule for + employers.--All persons treated as a single + employer under subsection (b), (c), (m), or (o) of + section 414 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 + shall be treated as 1 employer. + ``(ii) Employers not in existence in preceding + year.--In the case of an employer which was not in + existence throughout the preceding calendar year, + the determination of whether such employer is an + applicable large employer shall be based on the + average number of employees that it is reasonably + expected such employer will employ on business + days in the current calendar year. + ``(iii) Predecessors.--Any reference in this + subsection to an employer shall include a + reference to any predecessor of such employer. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 255]] + + ``(3) Applicable premium tax credit and cost-sharing + reduction.--The term `applicable premium tax credit and cost- + sharing reduction' means-- + ``(A) any premium tax credit allowed under section + 36B, + ``(B) any cost-sharing reduction under section 1402 + of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, and + ``(C) any advance payment of such credit or + reduction under section 1412 of such Act. + ``(4) Full-time employee.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `full-time employee' + means an employee who is employed on average at least 30 + hours of service per week. + ``(B) Hours of service.-- + <> The Secretary, in + consultation with the Secretary of Labor, shall + prescribe such regulations, rules, and guidance as may + be necessary to determine the hours of service of an + employee, including rules for the application of this + paragraph to employees who are not compensated on an + hourly basis. + ``(5) Inflation adjustment.-- + ``(A) In general.--In the case of any calendar year + after 2014, each of the dollar amounts in subsection + (b)(2) and (d)(1) shall be increased by an amount equal + to the product of-- + ``(i) such dollar amount, and + ``(ii) the premium adjustment percentage (as + defined in section 1302(c)(4) of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act) for the + calendar year. + ``(B) Rounding.--If the amount of any increase under + subparagraph (A) is not a multiple of $10, such increase + shall be rounded to the next lowest multiple of $10. + ``(6) Other definitions.--Any term used in this section + which is also used in the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act shall have the same meaning as when used in such Act. + ``(7) Tax nondeductible.--For denial of deduction for the + tax imposed by this section, see section 275(a)(6). + + ``(e) Administration and Procedure.-- + ``(1) In general.--Any assessable payment provided by this + section shall be paid upon notice and demand by the Secretary, + and shall be assessed and collected in the same manner as an + assessable penalty under subchapter B of chapter 68. + ``(2) Time for payment.--The Secretary may provide for the + payment of any assessable payment provided by this section on an + annual, monthly, or other periodic basis as the Secretary may + prescribe. + ``(3) Coordination with credits, etc..-- + <> The Secretary shall prescribe + rules, regulations, or guidance for the repayment of any + assessable payment (including interest) if such payment is based + on the allowance or payment of an applicable premium tax credit + or cost-sharing reduction with respect to an employee, such + allowance or payment is subsequently disallowed, and the + assessable payment would not have been required to be made but + for such allowance or payment.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 256]] + + (b) Clerical Amendment.--The table of sections for chapter 43 of +such Code is amended by adding at the end the following new item: + +``Sec. 4980H. Shared responsibility for employers regarding health + coverage.''. + + (c) Study and Report of Effect of Tax on Workers' Wages.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Labor shall conduct a + study to determine whether employees' wages are reduced by + reason of the application of the assessable payments under + section 4980H of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (as added by + the amendments made by this section). <> + The Secretary shall make such determination on the basis of the + National Compensation Survey published by the Bureau of Labor + Statistics. + (2) Report.--The Secretary shall report the results of the + study under paragraph (1) to the Committee on Ways and Means of + the House of Representatives and to the Committee on Finance of + the Senate. + + (d) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to months beginning after December 31, +2013. + +SEC. 1514. REPORTING OF EMPLOYER HEALTH INSURANCE COVERAGE. + + (a) In General.--Subpart D of part III of subchapter A of chapter 61 +of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as added by section 1502, is +amended by inserting after section 6055 the following new section: + +``SEC. 6056. <> LARGE EMPLOYERS REQUIRED TO REPORT + ON HEALTH INSURANCE COVERAGE. + + ``(a) In General.--Every applicable large employer required to meet +the requirements of section 4980H with respect to its full-time +employees during a calendar year shall, at such time as the Secretary +may prescribe, make a return described in subsection (b). + ``(b) Form and Manner of Return.--A return is described in this +subsection if such return-- + ``(1) is in such form as the Secretary may prescribe, and + ``(2) contains-- + ``(A) the name, date, and employer identification + number of the employer, + ``(B) a certification as to whether the employer + offers to its full-time employees (and their dependents) + the opportunity to enroll in minimum essential coverage + under an eligible employer-sponsored plan (as defined in + section 5000A(f)(2)), + ``(C) <> if the employer + certifies that the employer did offer to its full-time + employees (and their dependents) the opportunity to so + enroll-- + ``(i) the length of any waiting period (as + defined in section 2701(b)(4) of the Public Health + Service Act) with respect to such coverage, + ``(ii) the months during the calendar year for + which coverage under the plan was available, + ``(iii) the monthly premium for the lowest + cost option in each of the enrollment categories + under the plan, and + ``(iv) the applicable large employer's share + of the total allowed costs of benefits provided + under the plan, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 257]] + + ``(D) the number of full-time employees for each + month during the calendar year, + ``(E) the name, address, and TIN of each full-time + employee during the calendar year and the months (if + any) during which such employee (and any dependents) + were covered under any such health benefits plans, and + ``(F) such other information as the Secretary may + require. + + ``(c) Statements To Be Furnished to Individuals With Respect to Whom +Information Is Reported.-- + ``(1) In general.--Every person required to make a return + under subsection (a) shall furnish to each full-time employee + whose name is required to be set forth in such return under + subsection (b)(2)(E) a written statement showing-- + ``(A) the name and address of the person required to + make such return and the phone number of the information + contact for such person, and + ``(B) the information required to be shown on the + return with respect to such individual. + ``(2) Time for furnishing statements.--The written statement + required under paragraph (1) shall be furnished on or before + January 31 of the year following the calendar year for which the + return under subsection (a) was required to be made. + + ``(d) Coordination With Other Requirements.--To the maximum extent +feasible, the Secretary may provide that-- + ``(1) any return or statement required to be provided under + this section may be provided as part of any return or statement + required under section 6051 or 6055, and + ``(2) in the case of an applicable large employer offering + health insurance coverage of a health insurance issuer, the + employer may enter into an agreement with the issuer to include + information required under this section with the return and + statement required to be provided by the issuer under section + 6055. + + ``(e) Coverage Provided by Governmental Units.--In the case of any +applicable large employer which is a governmental unit or any agency or +instrumentality thereof, the person appropriately designated for +purposes of this section shall make the returns and statements required +by this section. + ``(f) Definitions.--For purposes of this section, any term used in +this section which is also used in section 4980H shall have the meaning +given such term by section 4980H.''. + (b) Assessable Penalties.-- + (1) Subparagraph (B) of section 6724(d)(1) of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 (relating to definitions), as amended by + section 1502, <> is amended by striking + ``or'' at the end of clause (xxiii), by striking ``and'' at the + end of clause (xxiv) and inserting ``or'', and by inserting + after clause (xxiv) the following new clause: + ``(xxv) section 6056 (relating to returns + relating to large employers required to report on + health insurance coverage), and''. + (2) Paragraph (2) of section 6724(d) of such Code, as so + amended, is amended by striking ``or'' at the end of + subparagraph (FF), by striking the period at the end of + subparagraph + +[[Page 124 STAT. 258]] + + (GG) and inserting ``, or'' and by inserting after subparagraph + (GG) the following new subparagraph: + ``(HH) section 6056(c) (relating to statements + relating to large employers required to report on health + insurance coverage).''. + + (c) Conforming Amendment.--The table of sections for subpart D of +part III of subchapter A of chapter 61 of such Code, as added by section +1502, is amended by adding at the end the following new item: + +``Sec. 6056. Large employers required to report on health insurance + coverage.''. + + (d) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to periods beginning after December 31, +2013. + +SEC. 1515. OFFERING OF EXCHANGE-PARTICIPATING QUALIFIED HEALTH PLANS + THROUGH CAFETERIA PLANS. + + (a) In General.--Subsection (f) of section 125 of the Internal +Revenue Code of 1986 <> is amended by adding at the +end the following new paragraph: + ``(3) Certain exchange-participating qualified health plans + not qualified.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `qualified benefit' + shall not include any qualified health plan (as defined + in section 1301(a) of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act) offered through an Exchange + established under section 1311 of such Act. + ``(B) Exception for exchange-eligible employers.-- + Subparagraph (A) shall not apply with respect to any + employee if such employee's employer is a qualified + employer (as defined in section 1312(f)(2) of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act) offering the + employee the opportunity to enroll through such an + Exchange in a qualified health plan in a group + market.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendments.--Subsection (f) of section 125 of such +Code is amended-- + (1) by striking ``For purposes of this section, the term'' + and inserting ``For purposes of this section-- + + ``(1) In General.--The term'', and + (2) by striking ``Such term shall not include'' and + inserting the following: + ``(2) Long-term care insurance not qualified.--The term + `qualified benefit' shall not include''. + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments made +by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after December +31, 2013. + + Subtitle G--Miscellaneous Provisions + +SEC. 1551. <> DEFINITIONS. + + Unless specifically provided for otherwise, the definitions +contained in section 2791 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +300gg-91) shall apply with respect to this title. + +SEC. 1552. <> TRANSPARENCY IN GOVERNMENT. + + <> Not later than 30 days after the +date of enactment of this Act, the Secretary of Health and Human +Services shall publish on the Internet website of the Department of +Health and Human Services, a list of all of the authorities provided to +the Secretary under this Act (and the amendments made by this Act). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 259]] + +SEC. 1553. <> PROHIBITION AGAINST DISCRIMINATION + ON ASSISTED SUICIDE. + + (a) In General.--The Federal Government, and any State or local +government or health care provider that receives Federal financial +assistance under this Act (or under an amendment made by this Act) or +any health plan created under this Act (or under an amendment made by +this Act), may not subject an individual or institutional health care +entity to discrimination on the basis that the entity does not provide +any health care item or service furnished for the purpose of causing, or +for the purpose of assisting in causing, the death of any individual, +such as by assisted suicide, euthanasia, or mercy killing. + (b) Definition.--In this section, the term ``health care entity'' +includes an individual physician or other health care professional, a +hospital, a provider-sponsored organization, a health maintenance +organization, a health insurance plan, or any other kind of health care +facility, organization, or plan. + (c) Construction and Treatment of Certain Services.--Nothing in +subsection (a) shall be construed to apply to, or to affect, any +limitation relating to-- + (1) the withholding or withdrawing of medical treatment or + medical care; + (2) the withholding or withdrawing of nutrition or + hydration; + (3) <> abortion; or + (4) the use of an item, good, benefit, or service furnished + for the purpose of alleviating pain or discomfort, even if such + use may increase the risk of death, so long as such item, good, + benefit, or service is not also furnished for the purpose of + causing, or the purpose of assisting in causing, death, for any + reason. + + (d) Administration.--The Office for Civil Rights of the Department +of Health and Human Services is designated to receive complaints of +discrimination based on this section. + +SEC. 1554. <> ACCESS TO THERAPIES. + + Notwithstanding any other provision of this Act, the Secretary of +Health and Human Services shall not promulgate any regulation that-- + (1) creates any unreasonable barriers to the ability of + individuals to obtain appropriate medical care; + (2) impedes timely access to health care services; + (3) interferes with communications regarding a full range of + treatment options between the patient and the provider; + (4) restricts the ability of health care providers to + provide full disclosure of all relevant information to patients + making health care decisions; + (5) violates the principles of informed consent and the + ethical standards of health care professionals; or + (6) limits the availability of health care treatment for the + full duration of a patient's medical needs. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 260]] + +SEC. 1555. <> FREEDOM NOT TO PARTICIPATE IN + FEDERAL HEALTH INSURANCE PROGRAMS. + + No individual, company, business, nonprofit entity, or health +insurance issuer offering group or individual health insurance coverage +shall be required to participate in any Federal health insurance program +created under this Act (or any amendments made by this Act), or in any +Federal health insurance program expanded by this Act (or any such +amendments), and there shall be no penalty or fine imposed upon any such +issuer for choosing not to participate in such programs. + +SEC. 1556. EQUITY FOR CERTAIN ELIGIBLE SURVIVORS. + + (a) Rebuttable Presumption.--Section 411(c)(4) of the Black Lung +Benefits Act (30 U.S.C. 921(c)(4)) is amended by striking the last +sentence. + (b) Continuation of Benefits.--Section 422(l) of the Black Lung +Benefits Act (30 U.S.C. 932(l)) is amended by striking ``, except with +respect to a claim filed under this part on or after the effective date +of the Black Lung Benefits Amendments of 1981''. + (c) <> Effective Date.--The +amendments made by this section shall apply with respect to claims filed +under part B or part C of the Black Lung Benefits Act (30 U.S.C. 921 et +seq., 931 et seq.) after January 1, 2005, that are pending on or after +the date of enactment of this Act. + +SEC. 1557. <> NONDISCRIMINATION. + + (a) In General.--Except as otherwise provided for in this title (or +an amendment made by this title), an individual shall not, on the ground +prohibited under title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 (42 U.S.C. +2000d et seq.), title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972 (20 U.S.C. +1681 et seq.), the Age Discrimination Act of 1975 (42 U.S.C. 6101 et +seq.), or section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 (29 U.S.C. 794), +be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be +subjected to discrimination under, any health program or activity, any +part of which is receiving Federal financial assistance, including +credits, subsidies, or contracts of insurance, or under any program or +activity that is administered by an Executive Agency or any entity +established under this title (or amendments). <> +The enforcement mechanisms provided for and available under such title +VI, title IX, section 504, or such Age Discrimination Act shall apply +for purposes of violations of this subsection. + + (b) Continued Application of Laws.--Nothing in this title (or an +amendment made by this title) shall be construed to invalidate or limit +the rights, remedies, procedures, or legal standards available to +individuals aggrieved under title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 (42 +U.S.C. 2000d et seq.), title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 (42 +U.S.C. 2000e et seq.), title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972 (20 +U.S.C. 1681 et seq.), section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 (29 +U.S.C. 794), or the Age Discrimination Act of 1975 (42 U.S.C. 611 et +seq.), or to supersede State laws that provide additional protections +against discrimination on any basis described in subsection (a). + (c) Regulations.--The Secretary may promulgate regulations to +implement this section. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 261]] + +SEC. 1558. PROTECTIONS FOR EMPLOYEES. + + The Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938 is amended by inserting after +section 18B (as added by section 1512) the following: + +``SEC. 18C. <> PROTECTIONS FOR EMPLOYEES. + + ``(a) Prohibition.--No employer shall discharge or in any manner +discriminate against any employee with respect to his or her +compensation, terms, conditions, or other privileges of employment +because the employee (or an individual acting at the request of the +employee) has-- + ``(1) received a credit under section 36B of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 or a subsidy under section 1402 of this + Act; + ``(2) provided, caused to be provided, or is about to + provide or cause to be provided to the employer, the Federal + Government, or the attorney general of a State information + relating to any violation of, or any act or omission the + employee reasonably believes to be a violation of, any provision + of this title (or an amendment made by this title); + ``(3) testified or is about to testify in a proceeding + concerning such violation; + ``(4) assisted or participated, or is about to assist or + participate, in such a proceeding; or + ``(5) objected to, or refused to participate in, any + activity, policy, practice, or assigned task that the employee + (or other such person) reasonably believed to be in violation of + any provision of this title (or amendment), or any order, rule, + regulation, standard, or ban under this title (or amendment). + + ``(b) Complaint Procedure.-- + ``(1) In general.--An employee who believes that he or she + has been discharged or otherwise discriminated against by any + employer in violation of this section may seek relief in + accordance with the procedures, notifications, burdens of proof, + remedies, and statutes of limitation set forth in section + 2087(b) of title 15, United States Code. + ``(2) No limitation on rights.--Nothing in this section + shall be deemed to diminish the rights, privileges, or remedies + of any employee under any Federal or State law or under any + collective bargaining agreement. The rights and remedies in this + section may not be waived by any agreement, policy, form, or + condition of employment.''. + +SEC. 1559. <> OVERSIGHT. + + The Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human Services +shall have oversight authority with respect to the administration and +implementation of this title as it relates to such Department. + +SEC. 1560. <> RULES OF CONSTRUCTION. + + (a) No Effect on Antitrust Laws.--Nothing in this title (or an +amendment made by this title) shall be construed to modify, impair, or +supersede the operation of any of the antitrust laws. For the purposes +of this section, the term ``antitrust laws'' has the meaning given such +term in subsection (a) of the first section of the Clayton Act, except +that such term includes section 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act to +the extent that such section 5 applies to unfair methods of competition. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 262]] + + (b) Rule of Construction Regarding Hawaii's Prepaid Health Care +Act.--Nothing in this title (or an amendment made by this title) shall +be construed to modify or limit the application of the exemption for +Hawaii's Prepaid Health Care Act (Haw. Rev. Stat. Sec. Sec. 393-1 et +seq.) as provided for under section 514(b)(5) of the Employee Retirement +Income Security Act of 1974 (29 U.S.C. 1144(b)(5)). + (c) Student Health Insurance Plans.--Nothing in this title (or an +amendment made by this title) shall be construed to prohibit an +institution of higher education (as such term is defined for purposes of +the Higher Education Act of 1965) from offering a student health +insurance plan, to the extent that such requirement is otherwise +permitted under applicable Federal, State or local law. + (d) No Effect on Existing Requirements.--Nothing in this title (or +an amendment made by this title, unless specified by direct statutory +reference) shall be construed to modify any existing Federal requirement +concerning the State agency responsible for determining eligibility for +programs identified in section 1413. + +SEC. 1561. HEALTH INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY ENROLLMENT STANDARDS AND + PROTOCOLS. + + Title XXX of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300jj et seq.) +is amended by adding at the end the following: + + ``Subtitle C--Other Provisions + +``SEC. 3021. <> HEALTH INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY + ENROLLMENT STANDARDS AND PROTOCOLS. + + ``(a) In General.-- + ``(1) Standards and protocols.-- + <> Not later than 180 days after + the date of enactment of this title, the Secretary, in + consultation with the HIT Policy Committee and the HIT Standards + Committee, shall develop interoperable and secure standards and + protocols that facilitate enrollment of individuals in Federal + and State health and human services programs, as determined by + the Secretary. + ``(2) Methods.--The Secretary shall facilitate enrollment in + such programs through methods determined appropriate by the + Secretary, which shall include providing individuals and third + parties authorized by such individuals and their designees + notification of eligibility and verification of eligibility + required under such programs. + + ``(b) Content.--The standards and protocols for electronic +enrollment in the Federal and State programs described in subsection (a) +shall allow for the following: + ``(1) Electronic matching against existing Federal and State + data, including vital records, employment history, enrollment + systems, tax records, and other data determined appropriate by + the Secretary to serve as evidence of eligibility and in lieu of + paper-based documentation. + ``(2) Simplification and submission of electronic + documentation, digitization of documents, and systems + verification of eligibility. + ``(3) Reuse of stored eligibility information (including + documentation) to assist with retention of eligible individuals. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 263]] + + ``(4) Capability for individuals to apply, recertify and + manage their eligibility information online, including at home, + at points of service, and other community-based locations. + ``(5) Ability to expand the enrollment system to integrate + new programs, rules, and functionalities, to operate at + increased volume, and to apply streamlined verification and + eligibility processes to other Federal and State programs, as + appropriate. + ``(6) Notification of eligibility, recertification, and + other needed communication regarding eligibility, which may + include communication via email and cellular phones. + ``(7) Other functionalities necessary to provide eligibles + with streamlined enrollment process. + + ``(c) Approval and Notification.--With respect to any standard or +protocol developed under subsection (a) that has been approved by the +HIT Policy Committee and the HIT Standards Committee, the Secretary-- + ``(1) shall notify States of such standards or protocols; + and + ``(2) may require, as a condition of receiving Federal funds + for the health information technology investments, that States + or other entities incorporate such standards and protocols into + such investments. + + ``(d) Grants for Implementation of Appropriate Enrollment HIT.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall award grant to + eligible entities to develop new, and adapt existing, technology + systems to implement the HIT enrollment standards and protocols + developed under subsection (a) (referred to in this subsection + as `appropriate HIT technology'). + ``(2) Eligible entities.--To be eligible for a grant under + this subsection, an entity shall-- + ``(A) be a State, political subdivision of a State, + or a local governmental entity; and + ``(B) submit to the Secretary an application at such + time, in such manner, and containing-- + ``(i) a plan to adopt and implement + appropriate enrollment technology that includes-- + ``(I) proposed reduction in + maintenance costs of technology systems; + ``(II) elimination or updating of + legacy systems; and + ``(III) demonstrated collaboration + with other entities that may receive a + grant under this section that are + located in the same State, political + subdivision, or locality; + ``(ii) an assurance that the entity will share + such appropriate enrollment technology in + accordance with paragraph (4); and + ``(iii) such other information as the + Secretary may require. + ``(3) Sharing.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall ensure that + appropriate enrollment HIT adopted under grants under + this subsection is made available to other qualified + State, qualified political subdivisions of a State, or + other appropriate qualified entities (as described in + subparagraph (B)) at no cost. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 264]] + + ``(B) Qualified entities.--The Secretary shall + determine what entities are qualified to receive + enrollment HIT under subparagraph (A), taking into + consideration the recommendations of the HIT Policy + Committee and the HIT Standards Committee.''. + +SEC. 1562. CONFORMING AMENDMENTS. + + (a) Applicability.--Section 2735 of the Public Health Service Act +(42 U.S.C. 300gg-21), as so redesignated by section 1001(4), is +amended-- + (1) by striking subsection (a); + (2) in subsection (b)-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking ``1 through 3'' + and inserting ``1 and 2''; and + (B) in paragraph (2)-- + (i) in subparagraph (A), by striking + ``subparagraph (D)'' and inserting ``subparagraph + (D) or (E)''; + (ii) by striking ``1 through 3'' and inserting + ``1 and 2''; and + (iii) by adding at the end the following: + ``(E) Election not applicable.--The election + described in subparagraph (A) shall not be available + with respect to the provisions of subpart 1.''; + (3) in subsection (c), by striking ``1 through 3 shall not + apply to any group'' and inserting ``1 and 2 shall not apply to + any individual coverage or any group''; and + (4) in subsection (d)-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking ``1 through 3 + shall not apply to any group'' and inserting ``1 and 2 + shall not apply to any individual coverage or any + group''; + (B) in paragraph (2)-- + (i) in the matter preceding subparagraph (A), + by striking ``1 through 3 shall not apply to any + group'' and inserting ``1 and 2 shall not apply to + any individual coverage or any group''; and + (ii) in subparagraph (C), by inserting ``or, + with respect to individual coverage, under any + health insurance coverage maintained by the same + health insurance issuer''; and + (C) in paragraph (3), by striking ``any group'' and + inserting ``any individual coverage or any group''. + + (b) Definitions.--Section 2791(d) of the Public Health Service Act +(42 U.S.C. 300gg-91(d)) is amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(20) Qualified health plan.--The term `qualified health + plan' has the meaning given such term in section 1301(a) of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act. + ``(21) Exchange.--The term `Exchange' means an American + Health Benefit Exchange established under section 1311 of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act.''. + + (c) Technical and Conforming Amendments.--Title XXVII of the Public +Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300gg et seq.) is amended-- + (1) in section 2704 <> (42 U.S.C. + 300gg), as so redesignated by section 1201(2)-- + (A) in subsection (c)-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 265]] + + (i) in paragraph (2), by striking ``group + health plan'' each place that such term appears + and inserting ``group or individual health plan''; + and + (ii) in paragraph (3)-- + (I) by striking ``group health + insurance'' each place that such term + appears and inserting ``group or + individual health insurance''; and + (II) in subparagraph (D), by + striking ``small or large'' and + inserting ``individual or group''; + (B) in subsection (d), by striking ``group health + insurance'' each place that such term appears and + inserting ``group or individual health insurance''; and + (C) in subsection (e)(1)(A), by striking ``group + health insurance'' and inserting ``group or individual + health insurance''; + (2) by striking the second heading for subpart 2 of part A + (relating to other requirements); + (3) in section 2725 <> (42 U.S.C. + 300gg-4), as so redesignated by section 1001(2)-- + (A) in subsection (a), by striking ``health + insurance issuer offering group health insurance + coverage'' and inserting ``health insurance issuer + offering group or individual health insurance + coverage''; + (B) in subsection (b)-- + (i) by striking ``health insurance issuer + offering group health insurance coverage in + connection with a group health plan'' in the + matter preceding paragraph (1) and inserting + ``health insurance issuer offering group or + individual health insurance coverage''; and + (ii) in paragraph (1), by striking ``plan'' + and inserting ``plan or coverage''; + (C) in subsection (c)-- + (i) in paragraph (2), by striking ``group + health insurance coverage offered by a health + insurance issuer'' and inserting ``health + insurance issuer offering group or individual + health insurance coverage''; and + (ii) in paragraph (3), by striking ``issuer'' + and inserting ``health insurance issuer''; and + (D) in subsection (e), by striking ``health + insurance issuer offering group health insurance + coverage'' and inserting ``health insurance issuer + offering group or individual health insurance + coverage''; + (4) in section 2726 <> (42 U.S.C. + 300gg-5), as so redesignated by section 1001(2)-- + (A) in subsection (a), by striking ``(or health + insurance coverage offered in connection with such a + plan)'' each place that such term appears and inserting + ``or a health insurance issuer offering group or + individual health insurance coverage''; + (B) in subsection (b), by striking ``(or health + insurance coverage offered in connection with such a + plan)'' each place that such term appears and inserting + ``or a health insurance issuer offering group or + individual health insurance coverage''; and + (C) in subsection (c)-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 266]] + + (i) in paragraph (1), by striking ``(and group + health insurance coverage offered in connection + with a group health plan)'' and inserting ``and a + health insurance issuer offering group or + individual health insurance coverage''; + (ii) in paragraph (2), by striking ``(or + health insurance coverage offered in connection + with such a plan)'' each place that such term + appears and inserting ``or a health insurance + issuer offering group or individual health + insurance coverage''; + (5) in section 2727 <> (42 U.S.C. + 300gg-6), as so redesignated by section 1001(2), by striking + ``health insurance issuers providing health insurance coverage + in connection with group health plans'' and inserting ``and + health insurance issuers offering group or individual health + insurance coverage''; + (6) in section 2728 <> (42 U.S.C. + 300gg-7), as so redesignated by section 1001(2)-- + (A) in subsection (a), by striking ``health + insurance coverage offered in connection with such + plan'' and inserting ``individual health insurance + coverage''; + (B) in subsection (b)-- + (i) in paragraph (1), by striking ``or a + health insurance issuer that provides health + insurance coverage in connection with a group + health plan'' and inserting ``or a health + insurance issuer that offers group or individual + health insurance coverage''; + (ii) in paragraph (2), by striking ``health + insurance coverage offered in connection with the + plan'' and inserting ``individual health insurance + coverage''; and + (iii) in paragraph (3), by striking ``health + insurance coverage offered by an issuer in + connection with such plan'' and inserting + ``individual health insurance coverage''; + (C) in subsection (c), by striking ``health + insurance issuer providing health insurance coverage in + connection with a group health plan'' and inserting + ``health insurance issuer that offers group or + individual health insurance coverage''; and + (D) in subsection (e)(1), by striking ``health + insurance coverage offered in connection with such a + plan'' and inserting ``individual health insurance + coverage''; + (7) by striking the heading for subpart 3; + (8) in section 2731 <> (42 U.S.C. + 300gg-11), as so redesignated by section 1001(3)-- + (A) by striking the section heading and all that + follows through subsection (b); + (B) in subsection (c)-- + (i) in paragraph (1)-- + (I) in the matter preceding + subparagraph (A), by striking ``small + group'' and inserting ``group and + individual''; and + (II) in subparagraph (B)-- + (aa) in the matter preceding + clause (i), by inserting ``and + individuals'' after + ``employers''; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 267]] + + (bb) in clause (i), by + inserting ``or any additional + individuals'' after ``additional + groups''; and + (cc) in clause (ii), by + striking ``without regard to the + claims experience of those + employers and their employees + (and their dependents) or any + health status-related factor + relating to such'' and inserting + ``and individuals without regard + to the claims experience of + those individuals, employers and + their employees (and their + dependents) or any health + status-related factor relating + to such individuals''; and + (ii) in paragraph (2), by striking ``small + group'' and inserting ``group or individual''; + (C) in subsection (d)-- + (i) by striking ``small group'' each place + that such appears and inserting ``group or + individual''; and + (ii) in paragraph (1)(B)-- + (I) by striking ``all employers'' + and inserting ``all employers and + individuals''; + (II) by striking ``those employers'' + and inserting ``those individuals, + employers''; and + (III) by striking ``such employees'' + and inserting ``such individuals, + employees''; + (D) by striking subsection (e); + (E) by striking subsection (f); and + (F) by transferring such section (as amended by this + paragraph) to appear at the end of section 2702 (as + added by section 1001(4)); + (9) in section 2732 <> (42 U.S.C. + 300gg-12), as so redesignated by section 1001(3)-- + (A) by striking the section heading and all that + follows through subsection (a); + (B) in subsection (b)-- + (i) in the matter preceding paragraph (1), by + striking ``group health plan in the small or large + group market'' and inserting ``health insurance + coverage offered in the group or individual + market''; + (ii) in paragraph (1), by inserting ``, or + individual, as applicable,'' after ``plan + sponsor''; + (iii) in paragraph (2), by inserting ``, or + individual, as applicable,'' after ``plan + sponsor''; and + (iv) by striking paragraph (3) and inserting + the following: + ``(3) Violation of participation or contribution rates.--In + the case of a group health plan, the plan sponsor has failed to + comply with a material plan provision relating to employer + contribution or group participation rules, pursuant to + applicable State law.''; + (C) in subsection (c)-- + (i) in paragraph (1)-- + (I) in the matter preceding + subparagraph (A), by striking ``group + health insurance coverage offered in the + small or large group market'' and + inserting ``group or individual health + insurance coverage''; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 268]] + + (II) in subparagraph (A), by + inserting ``or individual, as + applicable,'' after ``plan sponsor''; + (III) in subparagraph (B)-- + (aa) by inserting ``or + individual, as applicable,'' + after ``plan sponsor''; and + (bb) by inserting ``or + individual health insurance + coverage''; and + (IV) in subparagraph (C), by + inserting ``or individuals, as + applicable,'' after ``those sponsors''; + and + (ii) in paragraph (2)(A)-- + (I) in the matter preceding clause + (i), by striking ``small group market or + the large group market, or both + markets,'' and inserting ``individual or + group market, or all markets,''; and + (II) in clause (i), by inserting + ``or individual, as applicable,'' after + ``plan sponsor''; and + (D) by transferring such section (as amended by this + paragraph) to appear at the end of section 2703 (as + added by section 1001(4)); + (10) in section 2733 <> (42 U.S.C. + 300gg-13), as so redesignated by section 1001(4)-- + (A) in subsection (a)-- + (i) in the matter preceding paragraph (1), by + striking ``small employer'' and inserting ``small + employer or an individual''; + (ii) in paragraph (1), by inserting ``, or + individual, as applicable,'' after ``employer'' + each place that such appears; and + (iii) in paragraph (2), by striking ``small + employer'' and inserting ``employer, or + individual, as applicable,''; + (B) in subsection (b)-- + (i) in paragraph (1)-- + (I) in the matter preceding + subparagraph (A), by striking ``small + employer'' and inserting ``employer, or + individual, as applicable,''; + (II) in subparagraph (A), by adding + ``and'' at the end; + (III) by striking subparagraphs (B) + and (C); and + (IV) in subparagraph (D)-- + (aa) by inserting ``, or + individual, as applicable,'' + after ``employer''; and + (bb) by redesignating such + subparagraph as subparagraph + (B); + (ii) in paragraph (2)-- + (I) by striking ``small employers'' + each place that such term appears and + inserting ``employers, or individuals, + as applicable,''; and + (II) by striking ``small employer'' + and inserting ``employer, or individual, + as applicable,''; and + (C) by redesignating such section (as amended by + this paragraph) as section 2709 and transferring such + section to appear after section 2708 (as added by + section 1001(5)); + (11) by redesignating subpart 4 as subpart 2; + (12) in section 2735 (42 U.S.C. 300gg-21), as so + redesignated by section 1001(4)-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 269]] + + (A) by striking subsection (a); + (B) by striking ``subparts 1 through 3'' each place + that such appears and inserting ``subpart 1''; + (C) by redesignating subsections (b) through (e) as + subsections (a) through (d), respectively; and + (D) by redesignating such section (as amended by + this paragraph) <> as section + 2722; + (13) in section 2736 (42 U.S.C. 300gg-22), as so + redesignated by section 1001(4)-- + (A) in subsection (a)-- + (i) in paragraph (1), by striking ``small or + large group markets'' and inserting ``individual + or group market''; and + (ii) in paragraph (2), by inserting ``or + individual health insurance coverage'' after + ``group health plans''; + (B) in subsection (b)(1)(B), by inserting + ``individual health insurance coverage or'' after + ``respect to''; and + (C) by redesignating such section (as amended by + this paragraph) <> as section + 2723; + (14) in section 2737(a)(1) (42 U.S.C. 300gg-23), as so + redesignated by section 1001(4)-- + (A) by inserting ``individual or'' before ``group + health insurance''; and + (B) by redesignating such section(as amended by this + paragraph) <> as section 2724; + (15) in section 2762 (42 U.S.C. 300gg-62)-- + (A) in the section heading by inserting ``and + application'' before the period; and + (B) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(c) Application of Part A Provisions.-- + ``(1) In general.--The provisions of part A shall apply to + health insurance issuers providing health insurance coverage in + the individual market in a State as provided for in such part. + ``(2) Clarification.--To the extent that any provision of + this part conflicts with a provision of part A with respect to + health insurance issuers providing health insurance coverage in + the individual market in a State, the provisions of such part A + shall apply.''; and + (16) in section 2791(e) (42 U.S.C. 300gg-91(e))-- + (A) in paragraph (2), by striking ``51'' and + inserting ``101''; and + (B) in paragraph (4)-- + (i) by striking ``at least 2'' each place that + such appears and inserting ``at least 1''; and + (ii) by striking ``50'' and inserting ``100''. + + (d) <> Application.--Notwithstanding any other +provision of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, nothing in +such Act (or an amendment made by such Act) shall be construed to-- + (1) prohibit (or authorize the Secretary of Health and Human + Services to promulgate regulations that prohibit) a group health + plan or health insurance issuer from carrying out utilization + management techniques that are commonly used as of the date of + enactment of this Act; or + (2) restrict the application of the amendments made by this + subtitle. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 270]] + + (e) Technical Amendment to the Employee Retirement Income Security +Act of 1974.--Subpart B of part 7 of subtitle A of title I of the +Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 (29 U.S.C. 1181 et. +seq.) is amended, by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 715. <> ADDITIONAL MARKET + REFORMS. + + ``(a) General Rule.--Except as provided in subsection (b)-- + ``(1) the provisions of part A of title XXVII of the Public + Health Service Act (as amended by the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act) shall apply to group health plans, and + health insurance issuers providing health insurance coverage in + connection with group health plans, as if included in this + subpart; and + ``(2) to the extent that any provision of this part + conflicts with a provision of such part A with respect to group + health plans, or health insurance issuers providing health + insurance coverage in connection with group health plans, the + provisions of such part A shall apply. + + ``(b) Exception.--Notwithstanding subsection (a), the provisions of +sections 2716 and 2718 of title XXVII of the Public Health Service Act +(as amended by the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act) shall not +apply with respect to self-insured group health plans, and the +provisions of this part shall continue to apply to such plans as if such +sections of the Public Health Service Act (as so amended) had not been +enacted.''. + (f) Technical Amendment to the Internal Revenue Code of 1986.-- +Subchapter B of chapter 100 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is +amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 9815. <> ADDITIONAL MARKET + REFORMS. + + ``(a) General Rule.--Except as provided in subsection (b)-- + ``(1) the provisions of part A of title XXVII of the Public + Health Service Act (as amended by the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act) shall apply to group health plans, and + health insurance issuers providing health insurance coverage in + connection with group health plans, as if included in this + subchapter; and + ``(2) to the extent that any provision of this subchapter + conflicts with a provision of such part A with respect to group + health plans, or health insurance issuers providing health + insurance coverage in connection with group health plans, the + provisions of such part A shall apply. + + ``(b) Exception.--Notwithstanding subsection (a), the provisions of +sections 2716 and 2718 of title XXVII of the Public Health Service Act +(as amended by the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act) shall not +apply with respect to self-insured group health plans, and the +provisions of this subchapter shall continue to apply to such plans as +if such sections of the Public Health Service Act (as so amended) had +not been enacted.''. + +SEC. 1563. SENSE OF THE SENATE PROMOTING FISCAL RESPONSIBILITY. + + (a) Findings.--The Senate makes the following findings: + (1) Based on Congressional Budget Office (CBO) estimates, + this Act will reduce the Federal deficit between 2010 and 2019. + (2) CBO projects this Act will continue to reduce budget + deficits after 2019. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 271]] + + (3) Based on CBO estimates, this Act will extend the + solvency of the Medicare HI Trust Fund. + (4) This Act will increase the surplus in the Social + Security Trust Fund, which should be reserved to strengthen the + finances of Social Security. + (5) The initial net savings generated by the Community + Living Assistance Services and Supports (CLASS) program are + necessary to ensure the long-term solvency of that program. + + (b) Sense of the Senate.--It is the sense of the Senate that-- + (1) the additional surplus in the Social Security Trust Fund + generated by this Act should be reserved for Social Security and + not spent in this Act for other purposes; and + (2) the net savings generated by the CLASS program should be + reserved for the CLASS program and not spent in this Act for + other purposes. + + TITLE II--ROLE OF PUBLIC PROGRAMS + + Subtitle A--Improved Access to Medicaid + +SEC. 2001. MEDICAID COVERAGE FOR THE LOWEST INCOME POPULATIONS. + + (a) Coverage for Individuals With Income at or Below 133 Percent of +the Poverty Line.-- + (1) Beginning 2014.-- <> Section + 1902(a)(10)(A)(i) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a) + is amended-- + (A) by striking ``or'' at the end of subclause (VI); + (B) by adding ``or'' at the end of subclause (VII); + and + (C) by inserting after subclause (VII) the + following: + ``(VIII) beginning January 1, 2014, + who are under 65 years of age, not + pregnant, not entitled to, or enrolled + for, benefits under part A of title + XVIII, or enrolled for benefits under + part B of title XVIII, and are not + described in a previous subclause of + this clause, and whose income (as + determined under subsection (e)(14)) + does not exceed 133 percent of the + poverty line (as defined in section + 2110(c)(5)) applicable to a family of + the size involved, subject to subsection + (k);''. + (2) Provision of at least minimum essential coverage.-- + (A) In general.--Section 1902 of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396a) is amended by inserting after subsection (j) the + following: + + ``(k)(1) The medical assistance provided to an individual described +in subclause (VIII) of subsection (a)(10)(A)(i) shall consist of +benchmark coverage described in section 1937(b)(1) or benchmark +equivalent coverage described in section 1937(b)(2). Such medical +assistance shall be provided subject to the requirements of section +1937, without regard to whether a State otherwise has elected the option +to provide medical assistance through coverage under that section, +unless an individual described in subclause (VIII) of subsection +(a)(10)(A)(i) is also an individual for whom, under subparagraph (B) of +section 1937(a)(2), the State may not require enrollment in benchmark +coverage described in subsection (b)(1) + +[[Page 124 STAT. 272]] + +of section 1937 or benchmark equivalent coverage described in subsection +(b)(2) of that section.''. + (B) Conforming amendment.--Section 1903(i) of the + Social Security Act, as amended by section + 6402(c), <> is amended-- + (i) in paragraph (24), by striking ``or'' at + the end; + (ii) in paragraph (25), by striking the period + and inserting ``; or''; and + (iii) by adding at the end the following: + ``(26) with respect to any amounts expended for medical + assistance for individuals described in subclause (VIII) of + subsection (a)(10)(A)(i) other than medical assistance provided + through benchmark coverage described in section 1937(b)(1) or + benchmark equivalent coverage described in section + 1937(b)(2).''. + (3) Federal funding for cost of covering newly eligible + individuals.--Section 1905 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396d), is amended-- + (A) in subsection (b), in the first sentence, by + inserting ``subsection (y) and'' before ``section + 1933(d)''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + subsection: + + ``(y) Increased FMAP for Medical Assistance for Newly Eligible +Mandatory Individuals.-- + ``(1) <> Amount of increase.-- + ``(A) 100 percent fmap.--During the period that + begins on January 1, 2014, and ends on December 31, + 2016, notwithstanding subsection (b), the Federal + medical assistance percentage determined for a State + that is one of the 50 States or the District of Columbia + for each fiscal year occurring during that period with + respect to amounts expended for medical assistance for + newly eligible individuals described in subclause (VIII) + of section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i) shall be equal to 100 + percent. + ``(B) 2017 and 2018.-- + ``(i) In general.--During the period that + begins on January 1, 2017, and ends on December + 31, 2018, notwithstanding subsection (b) and + subject to subparagraph (D), the Federal medical + assistance percentage determined for a State that + is one of the 50 States or the District of + Columbia for each fiscal year occurring during + that period with respect to amounts expended for + medical assistance for newly eligible individuals + described in subclause (VIII) of section + 1902(a)(10)(A)(i), shall be increased by the + applicable percentage point increase specified in + clause (ii) for the quarter and the State. + ``(ii) Applicable percentage point increase.-- + ``(I) In general.--For purposes of + clause (i), the applicable percentage + point increase for a quarter is the + following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 273]] + + + + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + If the State is an If the State is not an + ``For any fiscal year expansion State, the expansion State, the + quarter occurring in applicable percentage applicable percentage + the calendar year: point increase is: point increase is: +------------------------------------------------------------------------ +2017 30.3 34.3 +------------------------------------------------------------------------ +2018 31.3 33.3 +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + ``(II) Expansion state defined.--For + purposes of the table in subclause (I), + a State is an expansion State if, on the + date of the enactment of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act, the + State offers health benefits coverage + statewide to parents and nonpregnant, + childless adults whose income is at + least 100 percent of the poverty line, + that is not dependent on access to + employer coverage, employer + contribution, or employment and is not + limited to premium assistance, hospital- + only benefits, a high deductible health + plan, or alternative benefits under a + demonstration program authorized under + section 1938. A State that offers health + benefits coverage to only parents or + only nonpregnant childless adults + described in the preceding sentence + shall not be considered to be an + expansion State. + ``(C) 2019 and succeeding years. <> --Beginning January 1, 2019, notwithstanding + subsection (b) but subject to subparagraph (D), the + Federal medical assistance percentage determined for a + State that is one of the 50 States or the District of + Columbia for each fiscal year quarter occurring during + that period with respect to amounts expended for medical + assistance for newly eligible individuals described in + subclause (VIII) of section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i), shall be + increased by 32.3 percentage points. + ``(D) Limitation.--The Federal medical assistance + percentage determined for a State under subparagraph (B) + or (C) shall in no case be more than 95 percent. + ``(2) Definitions.--In this subsection: + ``(A) Newly eligible.--The term `newly eligible' + means, with respect to an individual described in + subclause (VIII) of section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i), an + individual who is not under 19 years of age (or such + higher age as the State may have elected) and who, on + the date of enactment of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act, is not eligible under the State + plan or under a waiver of the plan for full benefits or + for benchmark coverage described in subparagraph (A), + (B), or (C) of section 1937(b)(1) or benchmark + equivalent coverage described in section 1937(b)(2) that + has an aggregate actuarial value that is at least + actuarially equivalent to benchmark coverage described + in subparagraph (A), (B), or (C) of section 1937(b)(1), + or is eligible but not enrolled (or is on a waiting + list) for such benefits or coverage through a waiver + under the plan that has a capped or limited enrollment + that is full. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 274]] + + ``(B) Full benefits.--The term `full benefits' + means, with respect to an individual, medical assistance + for all services covered under the State plan under this + title that is not less in amount, duration, or scope, or + is determined by the Secretary to be substantially + equivalent, to the medical assistance available for an + individual described in section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i).''. + (4) State options to offer coverage earlier and presumptive + eligibility; children required to have coverage for parents to + be eligible.-- + (A) In general.--Subsection (k) of section 1902 of + the Social Security Act (as added by paragraph + (2)), <> is amended by inserting + after paragraph (1) the following: + + ``(2) <> Beginning with the +first day of any fiscal year quarter that begins on or after January 1, +2011, and before January 1, 2014, a State may elect through a State plan +amendment to provide medical assistance to individuals who would be +described in subclause (VIII) of subsection (a)(10)(A)(i) if that +subclause were effective before January 1, 2014. A State may elect to +phase-in the extension of eligibility for medical assistance to such +individuals based on income, so long as the State does not extend such +eligibility to individuals described in such subclause with higher +income before making individuals described in such subclause with lower +income eligible for medical assistance. + + ``(3) If an individual described in subclause (VIII) of subsection +(a)(10)(A)(i) is the parent of a child who is under 19 years of age (or +such higher age as the State may have elected) who is eligible for +medical assistance under the State plan or under a waiver of such plan +(under that subclause or under a State plan amendment under paragraph +(2), the individual may not be enrolled under the State plan unless the +individual's child is enrolled under the State plan or under a waiver of +the plan or is enrolled in other health insurance coverage. For purposes +of the preceding sentence, the term `parent' includes an individual +treated as a caretaker relative for purposes of carrying out section +1931.''. + (B) Presumptive eligibility.--Section 1920 of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-1) is amended by + adding at the end the following: + + ``(e) <> If the State has elected the option to +provide a presumptive eligibility period under this section or section +1920A, the State may elect to provide a presumptive eligibility period +(as defined in subsection (b)(1)) for individuals who are eligible for +medical assistance under clause (i)(VIII) of subsection (a)(10)(A) or +section 1931 in the same manner as the State provides for such a period +under this section or section 1920A, subject to such guidance as the +Secretary shall establish.''. + (5) Conforming amendments.-- + (A) Section 1902(a)(10) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396a(a)(10)) is amended in the matter following + subparagraph (G), by striking ``and (XIV)'' and + inserting ``(XIV)'' and by inserting ``and (XV) the + medical assistance made available to an individual + described in subparagraph (A)(i)(VIII) shall be limited + to medical assistance described in subsection (k)(1)'' + before the semicolon. + (B) Section 1902(l)(2)(C) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396a(l)(2)(C)) is amended by striking ``100'' and + inserting ``133''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 275]] + + (C) Section 1905(a) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(a)) + is amended in the matter preceding paragraph (1)-- + (i) by striking ``or'' at the end of clause + (xii); + (ii) by inserting ``or'' at the end of clause + (xiii); and + (iii) by inserting after clause (xiii) the + following: + ``(xiv) individuals described in section + 1902(a)(10)(A)(i)(VIII),''. + (D) Section 1903(f)(4) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396b(f)(4)) is amended by inserting + ``1902(a)(10)(A)(i)(VIII),'' after + ``1902(a)(10)(A)(i)(VII),''. + (E) Section 1937(a)(1)(B) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396u-7(a)(1)(B)) is amended by inserting ``subclause + (VIII) of section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i) or under'' after + ``eligible under''. + + (b) Maintenance of Medicaid Income Eligibility.--Section 1902 of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)-- + (A) by striking ``and'' at the end of paragraph + (72); + (B) by striking the period at the end of paragraph + (73) and inserting ``; and''; and + (C) by inserting after paragraph (73) the following + new paragraph: + ``(74) provide for maintenance of effort under the State + plan or under any waiver of the plan in accordance with + subsection (gg).''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(gg) Maintenance of Effort.-- + ``(1) General requirement to maintain eligibility standards + until state exchange is fully operational.--Subject <> to the succeeding paragraphs of this + subsection, during the period that begins on the date of + enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act and + ends on the date on which the Secretary determines that an + Exchange established by the State under section 1311 of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act is fully operational, + as a condition for receiving any Federal payments under section + 1903(a) for calendar quarters occurring during such period, a + State shall not have in effect eligibility standards, + methodologies, or procedures under the State plan under this + title or under any waiver of such plan that is in effect during + that period, that are more restrictive than the eligibility + standards, methodologies, or procedures, respectively, under the + plan or waiver that are in effect on the date of enactment of + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act. + ``(2) Continuation of eligibility standards for children + until october 1, 2019.-- <> The + requirement under paragraph (1) shall continue to apply to a + State through September 30, 2019, with respect to the + eligibility standards, methodologies, and procedures under the + State plan under this title or under any waiver of such plan + that are applicable to determining the eligibility for medical + assistance of any child who is under 19 years of age (or such + higher age as the State may have elected). + ``(3) Nonapplication.-- <> During the period that begins + on January 1, 2011, and ends on December 31, 2013, the + requirement under paragraph (1) shall not apply to a State with + respect to nonpregnant, nondisabled adults who are eligible + +[[Page 124 STAT. 276]] + + for medical assistance under the State plan or under a waiver of + the plan at the option of the State and whose income exceeds 133 + percent of the poverty line (as defined in section 2110(c)(5)) + applicable to a family of the size involved if, on or after + December 31, 2010, the State certifies to the Secretary that, + with respect to the State fiscal year during which the + certification is made, the State has a budget deficit, or with + respect to the succeeding State fiscal year, the State is + projected to have a budget deficit. Upon submission of such a + certification to the Secretary, the requirement under paragraph + (1) shall not apply to the State with respect to any remaining + portion of the period described in the preceding sentence. + ``(4) Determination of compliance.-- + ``(A) States shall apply modified gross income.--A + State's determination of income in accordance with + subsection (e)(14) shall not be considered to be + eligibility standards, methodologies, or procedures that + are more restrictive than the standards, methodologies, + or procedures in effect under the State plan or under a + waiver of the plan on the date of enactment of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act for purposes + of determining compliance with the requirements of + paragraph (1), (2), or (3). + ``(B) States may expand eligibility or move waivered + populations into coverage under the state plan.--With + respect to any period applicable under paragraph (1), + (2), or (3), a State that applies eligibility standards, + methodologies, or procedures under the State plan under + this title or under any waiver of the plan that are less + restrictive than the eligibility standards, + methodologies, or procedures, applied under the State + plan or under a waiver of the plan on the date of + enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act, or that makes individuals who, on such date of + enactment, are eligible for medical assistance under a + waiver of the State plan, after such date of enactment + eligible for medical assistance through a State plan + amendment with an income eligibility level that is not + less than the income eligibility level that applied + under the waiver, or as a result of the application of + subclause (VIII) of section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i), shall not + be considered to have in effect eligibility standards, + methodologies, or procedures that are more restrictive + than the standards, methodologies, or procedures in + effect under the State plan or under a waiver of the + plan on the date of enactment of the Patient Protection + and Affordable Care Act for purposes of determining + compliance with the requirements of paragraph (1), (2), + or (3).''. + + (c) Medicaid Benchmark Benefits Must Consist of at Least Minimum +Essential Coverage.--Section 1937(b) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396u-7(b)) +is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1), in the matter preceding subparagraph + (A), by inserting ``subject to paragraphs (5) and (6),'' before + ``each''; + (2) in paragraph (2)-- + (A) in the matter preceding subparagraph (A), by + inserting ``subject to paragraphs (5) and (6)'' after + ``subsection (a)(1),''; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 277]] + + (B) in subparagraph (A)-- + (i) by redesignating clauses (iv) and (v) as + clauses (vi) and (vii), respectively; and + (ii) by inserting after clause (iii), the + following: + ``(iv) Coverage of prescription drugs. + ``(v) Mental health services.''; and + (C) in subparagraph (C)-- + (i) by striking clauses (i) and (ii); and + (ii) by redesignating clauses (iii) and (iv) + as clauses (i) and (ii), respectively; and + (3) by adding at the end the following new paragraphs: + ``(5) Minimum standards.-- <> Effective January 1, 2014, any benchmark benefit package + under paragraph (1) or benchmark equivalent coverage under + paragraph (2) must provide at least essential health benefits as + described in section 1302(b) of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act. + ``(6) Mental health services parity.-- + ``(A) In general.--In the case of any benchmark + benefit package under paragraph (1) or benchmark + equivalent coverage under paragraph (2) that is offered + by an entity that is not a medicaid managed care + organization and that provides both medical and surgical + benefits and mental health or substance use disorder + benefits, the entity shall ensure that the financial + requirements and treatment limitations applicable to + such mental health or substance use disorder benefits + comply with the requirements of section 2705(a) of the + Public Health Service Act in the same manner as such + requirements apply to a group health plan. + ``(B) Deemed compliance.--Coverage provided with + respect to an individual described in section + 1905(a)(4)(B) and covered under the State plan under + section 1902(a)(10)(A) of the services described in + section 1905(a)(4)(B) (relating to early and periodic + screening, diagnostic, and treatment services defined in + section 1905(r)) and provided in accordance with section + 1902(a)(43), shall be deemed to satisfy the requirements + of subparagraph (A).''. + + (d) Annual Reports on Medicaid Enrollment.-- + (1) State reports.--Section 1902(a) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)), as amended by subsection (b), is + amended-- + (A) by striking ``and'' at the end of paragraph + (73); + (B) by striking the period at the end of paragraph + (74) and inserting ``; and''; and + (C) by inserting after paragraph (74) the following + new paragraph: + ``(75) <> provide that, beginning + January 2015, and annually thereafter, the State shall submit a + report to the Secretary that contains-- + ``(A) the total number of enrolled and newly + enrolled individuals in the State plan or under a waiver + of the plan for the fiscal year ending on September 30 + of the preceding calendar year, disaggregated by + population, including children, parents, nonpregnant + childless adults, disabled individuals, elderly + individuals, and such other + +[[Page 124 STAT. 278]] + + categories or sub-categories of individuals eligible for + medical assistance under the State plan or under a + waiver of the plan as the Secretary may require; + ``(B) a description, which may be specified by + population, of the outreach and enrollment processes + used by the State during such fiscal year; and + ``(C) any other data reporting determined necessary + by the Secretary to monitor enrollment and retention of + individuals eligible for medical assistance under the + State plan or under a waiver of the plan.''. + (2) Reports to congress.-- <> Beginning April 2015, and annually thereafter, the + Secretary of Health and Human Services shall submit a report to + the appropriate committees of Congress on the total enrollment + and new enrollment in Medicaid for the fiscal year ending on + September 30 of the preceding calendar year on a national and + State-by-State basis, and shall include in each such report such + recommendations for administrative or legislative changes to + improve enrollment in the Medicaid program as the Secretary + determines appropriate. + + (e) State Option for Coverage for Individuals With Income That +Exceeds 133 Percent of the Poverty Line.-- + (1) Coverage as optional categorically needy group.--Section + 1902 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a) is amended-- + (A) in subsection (a)(10)(A)(ii)-- + (i) in subclause (XVIII), by striking ``or'' + at the end; + (ii) in subclause (XIX), by adding ``or'' at + the end; and + (iii) by adding at the end the following new + subclause: + ``(XX) <> beginning January 1, 2014, who + are under 65 years of age and are not + described in or enrolled under a + previous subclause of this clause, and + whose income (as determined under + subsection (e)(14)) exceeds 133 percent + of the poverty line (as defined in + section 2110(c)(5)) applicable to a + family of the size involved but does not + exceed the highest income eligibility + level established under the State plan + or under a waiver of the plan, subject + to subsection (hh);'' and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + subsection: + + ``(hh)(1) A State may elect to phase-in the extension of eligibility +for medical assistance to individuals described in subclause (XX) of +subsection (a)(10)(A)(ii) based on the categorical group (including +nonpregnant childless adults) or income, so long as the State does not +extend such eligibility to individuals described in such subclause with +higher income before making individuals described in such subclause with +lower income eligible for medical assistance. + ``(2) If an individual described in subclause (XX) of subsection +(a)(10)(A)(ii) is the parent of a child who is under 19 years of age (or +such higher age as the State may have elected) who is eligible for +medical assistance under the State plan or under a waiver of such plan, +the individual may not be enrolled under the State plan unless the +individual's child is enrolled under the State plan or under a waiver of +the plan or is enrolled in other health insurance coverage. For purposes +of the preceding sentence, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 279]] + +the term `parent' includes an individual treated as a caretaker relative +for purposes of carrying out section 1931.''. + (2) Conforming amendments.-- + (A) Section 1905(a) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396d(a)), as amended by subsection (a)(5)(C), is + amended in the matter preceding paragraph (1)-- + (i) by striking ``or'' at the end of clause + (xiii); + (ii) by inserting ``or'' at the end of clause + (xiv); and + (iii) by inserting after clause (xiv) the + following: + ``(xv) individuals described in section + 1902(a)(10)(A)(ii)(XX),''. + (B) Section 1903(f)(4) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396b(f)(4)) is amended by inserting + ``1902(a)(10)(A)(ii)(XX),'' after + ``1902(a)(10)(A)(ii)(XIX),''. + (C) Section 1920(e) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r- + 1(e)), as added by subsection (a)(4)(B), is amended by + inserting ``or clause (ii)(XX)'' after ``clause + (i)(VIII)''. + +SEC. 2002. INCOME ELIGIBILITY FOR NONELDERLY DETERMINED USING MODIFIED + GROSS INCOME. + + (a) In General.--Section 1902(e) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396a(e)) is amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(14) Income determined using modified gross income.-- + ``(A) In general.--Notwithstanding subsection (r) or + any other provision of this title, except as provided in + subparagraph (D), for purposes of determining income + eligibility for medical assistance under the State plan + or under any waiver of such plan and for any other + purpose applicable under the plan or waiver for which a + determination of income is required, including with + respect to the imposition of premiums and cost-sharing, + a State shall use the modified gross income of an + individual and, in the case of an individual in a family + greater than 1, the household income of such family. A + State shall establish income eligibility thresholds for + populations to be eligible for medical assistance under + the State plan or a waiver of the plan using modified + gross income and household income that are not less than + the effective income eligibility levels that applied + under the State plan or waiver on the date of enactment + of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act. For + purposes of complying with the maintenance of effort + requirements under subsection (gg) during the transition + to modified gross income and household income, a State + shall, working with the Secretary, establish an + equivalent income test that ensures individuals eligible + for medical assistance under the State plan or under a + waiver of the plan on the date of enactment of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, do not lose + coverage under the State plan or under a waiver of the + plan. <> The Secretary may + waive such provisions of this title and title XXI as are + necessary to ensure that States establish income and + eligibility determination systems that protect + beneficiaries. + ``(B) No income or expense disregards.--No type of + expense, block, or other income disregard shall be + applied + +[[Page 124 STAT. 280]] + + by a State to determine income eligibility for medical + assistance under the State plan or under any waiver of + such plan or for any other purpose applicable under the + plan or waiver for which a determination of income is + required. + ``(C) No assets test.--A State shall not apply any + assets or resources test for purposes of determining + eligibility for medical assistance under the State plan + or under a waiver of the plan. + ``(D) Exceptions.-- + ``(i) Individuals eligible because of other + aid or assistance, elderly individuals, medically + needy individuals, and individuals eligible for + medicare cost-sharing.--Subparagraphs (A), (B), + and (C) shall not apply to the determination of + eligibility under the State plan or under a waiver + for medical assistance for the following: + ``(I) Individuals who are eligible + for medical assistance under the State + plan or under a waiver of the plan on a + basis that does not require a + determination of income by the State + agency administering the State plan or + waiver, including as a result of + eligibility for, or receipt of, other + Federal or State aid or assistance, + individuals who are eligible on the + basis of receiving (or being treated as + if receiving) supplemental security + income benefits under title XVI, and + individuals who are eligible as a result + of being or being deemed to be a child + in foster care under the responsibility + of the State. + ``(II) Individuals who have attained + age 65. + ``(III) Individuals who qualify for + medical assistance under the State plan + or under any waiver of such plan on the + basis of being blind or disabled (or + being treated as being blind or + disabled) without regard to whether the + individual is eligible for supplemental + security income benefits under title XVI + on the basis of being blind or disabled + and including an individual who is + eligible for medical assistance on the + basis of section 1902(e)(3). + ``(IV) Individuals described in + subsection (a)(10)(C). + ``(V) Individuals described in any + clause of subsection (a)(10)(E). + ``(ii) Express lane agency findings.--In the + case of a State that elects the Express Lane + option under paragraph (13), notwithstanding + subparagraphs (A), (B), and (C), the State may + rely on a finding made by an Express Lane agency + in accordance with that paragraph relating to the + income of an individual for purposes of + determining the individual's eligibility for + medical assistance under the State plan or under a + waiver of the plan. + ``(iii) Medicare prescription drug subsidies + determinations.--Subparagraphs (A), (B), and (C) + shall not apply to any determinations of + eligibility for premium and cost-sharing subsidies + under and in + +[[Page 124 STAT. 281]] + + accordance with section 1860D-14 made by the State + pursuant to section 1935(a)(2). + ``(iv) Long-term care.--Subparagraphs (A), + (B), and (C) shall not apply to any determinations + of eligibility of individuals for purposes of + medical assistance for nursing facility services, + a level of care in any institution equivalent to + that of nursing facility services, home or + community-based services furnished under a waiver + or State plan amendment under section 1915 or a + waiver under section 1115, and services described + in section 1917(c)(1)(C)(ii). + ``(v) Grandfather of current enrollees until + date of next regular redetermination.--An + individual who, on January 1, 2014, is enrolled in + the State plan or under a waiver of the plan and + who would be determined ineligible for medical + assistance solely because of the application of + the modified gross income or household income + standard described in subparagraph (A), shall + remain eligible for medical assistance under the + State plan or waiver (and subject to the same + premiums and cost-sharing as applied to the + individual on that date) through March 31, 2014, + or the date on which the individual's next + regularly scheduled redetermination of eligibility + is to occur, whichever is later. + ``(E) Transition planning and oversight.-- + <> Each State shall submit to the + Secretary for the Secretary's approval the income + eligibility thresholds proposed to be established using + modified gross income and household income, the + methodologies and procedures to be used to determine + income eligibility using modified gross income and + household income and, if applicable, a State plan + amendment establishing an optional eligibility category + under subsection (a)(10)(A)(ii)(XX). To the extent + practicable, the State shall use the same methodologies + and procedures for purposes of making such + determinations as the State used on the date of + enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act. The Secretary shall ensure that the income + eligibility thresholds proposed to be established using + modified gross income and household income, including + under the eligibility category established under + subsection (a)(10)(A)(ii)(XX), and the methodologies and + procedures proposed to be used to determine income + eligibility, will not result in children who would have + been eligible for medical assistance under the State + plan or under a waiver of the plan on the date of + enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act no longer being eligible for such assistance. + ``(F) Limitation on secretarial authority.--The + Secretary shall not waive compliance with the + requirements of this paragraph except to the extent + necessary to permit a State to coordinate eligibility + requirements for dual eligible individuals (as defined + in section 1915(h)(2)(B)) under the State plan or under + a waiver of the plan and under title XVIII and + individuals who require the level of care provided in a + hospital, a nursing facility, or an intermediate care + facility for the mentally retarded. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 282]] + + ``(G) Definitions of modified gross income and + household income.--In this paragraph, the terms + `modified gross income' and `household income' have the + meanings given such terms in section 36B(d)(2) of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986. + ``(H) Continued application of medicaid rules + regarding point-in-time income and sources of income.-- + The requirement under this paragraph for States to use + modified gross income and household income to determine + income eligibility for medical assistance under the + State plan or under any waiver of such plan and for any + other purpose applicable under the plan or waiver for + which a determination of income is required shall not be + construed as affecting or limiting the application of-- + ``(i) the requirement under this title and + under the State plan or a waiver of the plan to + determine an individual's income as of the point + in time at which an application for medical + assistance under the State plan or a waiver of the + plan is processed; or + ``(ii) any rules established under this title + or under the State plan or a waiver of the plan + regarding sources of countable income.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendment.--Section 1902(a)(17) of such Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396a(a)(17)) is amended by inserting ``(e)(14),'' before +``(l)(3)''. + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by subsections (a) and (b) take effect on January 1, 2014. + +SEC. 2003. REQUIREMENT TO OFFER PREMIUM ASSISTANCE FOR EMPLOYER- + SPONSORED INSURANCE. + + (a) In General.--Section 1906A of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396e-1) is +amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)-- + (A) by striking ``may elect to'' and inserting + ``shall''; + (B) by striking ``under age 19''; and + (C) by inserting ``, in the case of an individual + under age 19,'' after ``(and''; + (2) in subsection (c), in the first sentence, by striking + ``under age 19''; and + (3) in subsection (d)-- + (A) in paragraph (2)-- + (i) in the first sentence, by striking ``under + age 19''; and + (ii) by striking the third sentence and + inserting ``A State may not require, as a + condition of an individual (or the individual's + parent) being or remaining eligible for medical + assistance under this title, that the individual + (or the individual's parent) apply for enrollment + in qualified employer-sponsored coverage under + this section.''; and + (B) in paragraph (3), by striking ``the parent of an + individual under age 19'' and inserting ``an individual + (or the parent of an individual)''; and + (4) in subsection (e), by striking ``under age 19'' each + place it appears. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 283]] + + (b) Conforming Amendment.--The heading for section 1906A of such Act +(42 U.S.C. 1396e-1) is amended by striking ``option for children''. + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section take effect on January 1, 2014. + +SEC. 2004. MEDICAID COVERAGE FOR FORMER FOSTER CARE CHILDREN. + + (a) In General.--Section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a), as amended by section 2001(a)(1), is amended-- + (1) by striking ``or'' at the end of subclause (VII); + (2) by adding ``or'' at the end of subclause (VIII); and + (3) by inserting after subclause (VIII) the following: + ``(IX) who were in foster care under + the responsibility of a State for more + than 6 months (whether or not + consecutive) but are no longer in such + care, who are not described in any of + subclauses (I) through (VII) of this + clause, and who are under 25 years of + age;''. + + (b) Option To Provide Presumptive Eligibility.--Section 1920(e) of +such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-1(e)), as added by section 2001(a)(4)(B) and +amended by section 2001(e)(2)(C), is amended by inserting ``, clause +(i)(IX),'' after ``clause (i)(VIII)''. + (c) Conforming Amendments.-- + (1) Section 1903(f)(4) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396b(f)(4)), + as amended by section 2001(a)(5)(D), is amended by inserting + ``1902(a)(10)(A)(i)(IX),'' after ``1902(a)(10)(A)(i)(VIII),''. + (2) Section 1937(a)(2)(B)(viii) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396u-7(a)(2)(B)(viii)) is amended by inserting ``, or the + individual qualifies for medical assistance on the basis of + section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i)(IX)'' before the period. + + (d) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section take effect on January 1, 2019. + +SEC. 2005. PAYMENTS TO TERRITORIES. + + (a) Increase in Limit on Payments.--Section 1108(g) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1308(g)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (2), in the matter preceding subparagraph + (A), by striking ``paragraph (3)'' and inserting ``paragraphs + (3) and (5)''; + (2) in paragraph (4), by striking ``and (3)'' and inserting + ``(3), and (4)''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following paragraph: + ``(5) Fiscal year 2011 and thereafter.--The amounts + otherwise determined under this subsection for Puerto Rico, the + Virgin Islands, Guam, the Northern Mariana Islands, and American + Samoa for the second, third, and fourth quarters of fiscal year + 2011, and for each fiscal year after fiscal year 2011 (after the + application of subsection (f) and the preceding paragraphs of + this subsection), shall be increased by 30 percent.''. + + (b) Disregard of Payments for Mandatory Expanded Enrollment.-- +Section 1108(g)(4) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1308(g)(4)) is amended-- + (1) by striking ``to fiscal years beginning'' and inserting + ``to-- + ``(A) fiscal years beginning''; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 284]] + + (2) by striking the period at the end and inserting ``; + and''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following: + ``(B) fiscal years beginning with fiscal year 2014, + payments made to Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, Guam, + the Northern Mariana Islands, or American Samoa with + respect to amounts expended for medical assistance for + newly eligible (as defined in section 1905(y)(2)) + nonpregnant childless adults who are eligible under + subclause (VIII) of section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i) and whose + income (as determined under section 1902(e)(14)) does + not exceed (in the case of each such commonwealth and + territory respectively) the income eligibility level in + effect for that population under title XIX or under a + waiver on the date of enactment of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act, shall not be taken + into account in applying subsection (f) (as increased in + accordance with paragraphs (1), (2), (3), and (5) of + this subsection) to such commonwealth or territory for + such fiscal year.''. + + (c) Increased FMAP.-- + (1) In general.--The first sentence of section 1905(b) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(b)) is amended by + striking ``shall be 50 per centum'' and inserting ``shall be 55 + percent''. + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendment made by paragraph (1) takes effect on January 1, 2011. + +SEC. 2006. SPECIAL ADJUSTMENT TO FMAP DETERMINATION FOR CERTAIN STATES + RECOVERING FROM A MAJOR DISASTER. + + Section 1905 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d), as +amended by sections 2001(a)(3) and 2001(b)(2), is amended-- + (1) in subsection (b), in the first sentence, by striking + ``subsection (y)'' and inserting ``subsections (y) and (aa)''; + and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(aa)(1) <> Notwithstanding subsection (b), +beginning January 1, 2011, the Federal medical assistance percentage for +a fiscal year for a disaster-recovery FMAP adjustment State shall be +equal to the following: + ``(A) In the case of the first fiscal year (or part of a + fiscal year) for which this subsection applies to the State, the + Federal medical assistance percentage determined for the fiscal + year without regard to this subsection and subsection (y), + increased by 50 percent of the number of percentage points by + which the Federal medical assistance percentage determined for + the State for the fiscal year without regard to this subsection + and subsection (y), is less than the Federal medical assistance + percentage determined for the State for the preceding fiscal + year after the application of only subsection (a) of section + 5001 of Public Law 111-5 (if applicable to the preceding fiscal + year) and without regard to this subsection, subsection (y), and + subsections (b) and (c) of section 5001 of Public Law 111-5. + ``(B) In the case of the second or any succeeding fiscal + year for which this subsection applies to the State, the Federal + medical assistance percentage determined for the preceding + fiscal year under this subsection for the State, increased by 25 + percent of the number of percentage points by which the Federal + medical assistance percentage determined for the State + +[[Page 124 STAT. 285]] + + for the fiscal year without regard to this subsection and + subsection (y), is less than the Federal medical assistance + percentage determined for the State for the preceding fiscal + year under this subsection. + + ``(2) <> In this subsection, the term `disaster- +recovery FMAP adjustment State' means a State that is one of the 50 +States or the District of Columbia, for which, at any time during the +preceding 7 fiscal years, the President has declared a major disaster +under section 401 of the Robert T. Stafford Disaster Relief and +Emergency Assistance Act and determined as a result of such disaster +that every county or parish in the State warrant individual and public +assistance or public assistance from the Federal Government under such +Act and for which-- + ``(A) in the case of the first fiscal year (or part of a + fiscal year) for which this subsection applies to the State, the + Federal medical assistance percentage determined for the State + for the fiscal year without regard to this subsection and + subsection (y), is less than the Federal medical assistance + percentage determined for the State for the preceding fiscal + year after the application of only subsection (a) of section + 5001 of Public Law 111-5 (if applicable to the preceding fiscal + year) and without regard to this subsection, subsection (y), and + subsections (b) and (c) of section 5001 of Public Law 111-5, by + at least 3 percentage points; and + ``(B) in the case of the second or any succeeding fiscal + year for which this subsection applies to the State, the Federal + medical assistance percentage determined for the State for the + fiscal year without regard to this subsection and subsection + (y), is less than the Federal medical assistance percentage + determined for the State for the preceding fiscal year under + this subsection by at least 3 percentage points. + + ``(3) <> The Federal medical assistance +percentage determined for a disaster-recovery FMAP adjustment State +under paragraph (1) shall apply for purposes of this title (other than +with respect to disproportionate share hospital payments described in +section 1923 and payments under this title that are based on the +enhanced FMAP described in 2105(b)) and shall not apply with respect to +payments under title IV (other than under part E of title IV) or +payments under title XXI.''. + +SEC. 2007. MEDICAID IMPROVEMENT FUND RESCISSION. + + (a) Rescission.--Any amounts available to the Medicaid Improvement +Fund established under section 1941 of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396w-1) for any of fiscal years 2014 through 2018 that are +available for expenditure from the Fund and that are not so obligated as +of the date of the enactment of this Act are rescinded. + (b) Conforming Amendments.--Section 1941(b)(1) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396w-1(b)(1)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``$100,000,000'' and + inserting ``$0''; and + (2) in subparagraph (B), by striking ``$150,000,000'' and + inserting ``$0''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 286]] + +Subtitle B--Enhanced Support for the Children's Health Insurance Program + +SEC. 2101. ADDITIONAL FEDERAL FINANCIAL PARTICIPATION FOR CHIP. + + (a) In General.-- <> Section 2105(b) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397ee(b)) is amended by adding at the +end the following: ``Notwithstanding the preceding sentence, during the +period that begins on October 1, 2013, and ends on September 30, 2019, +the enhanced FMAP determined for a State for a fiscal year (or for any +portion of a fiscal year occurring during such period) shall be +increased by 23 percentage points, but in no case shall exceed 100 +percent. The increase in the enhanced FMAP under the preceding sentence +shall not apply with respect to determining the payment to a State under +subsection (a)(1) for expenditures described in subparagraph (D)(iv), +paragraphs (8), (9), (11) of subsection (c), or clause (4) of the first +sentence of section 1905(b).''. + + (b) Maintenance of Effort.-- + (1) In general.--Section 2105(d) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1397ee(d)) is amended by adding at the end the + following: + ``(3) Continuation of eligibility standards for children + until october 1, 2019.-- + ``(A) In general.-- <> During + the period that begins on the date of enactment of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act and ends on + September 30, 2019, a State shall not have in effect + eligibility standards, methodologies, or procedures + under its State child health plan (including any waiver + under such plan) for children (including children + provided medical assistance for which payment is made + under section 2105(a)(1)(A)) that are more restrictive + than the eligibility standards, methodologies, or + procedures, respectively, under such plan (or waiver) as + in effect on the date of enactment of that Act. The + preceding sentence shall not be construed as preventing + a State during such period from-- + ``(i) applying eligibility standards, + methodologies, or procedures for children under + the State child health plan or under any waiver of + the plan that are less restrictive than the + eligibility standards, methodologies, or + procedures, respectively, for children under the + plan or waiver that are in effect on the date of + enactment of such Act; or + ``(ii) imposing a limitation described in + section 2112(b)(7) for a fiscal year in order to + limit expenditures under the State child health + plan to those for which Federal financial + participation is available under this section for + the fiscal year. + ``(B) Assurance of exchange coverage for targeted + low-income children unable to be provided child health + assistance as a result of funding + shortfalls. <> --In the event that + allotments provided under section 2104 are insufficient + to provide coverage to all children who are eligible to + be targeted low-income children under the State child + health plan under this title, a State shall + +[[Page 124 STAT. 287]] + + establish procedures to ensure that such children are + provided coverage through an Exchange established by the + State under section 1311 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act.''. + (2) Conforming amendment to title xxi medicaid maintenance + of effort.--Section 2105(d)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1397ee(d)(1)) is amended by adding before the period ``, + except as required under section 1902(e)(14)''. + + (c) No Enrollment Bonus Payments for Children Enrolled After Fiscal +Year 2013.--Section 2105(a)(3)(F)(iii) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1397ee(a)(3)(F)(iii)) is amended by inserting ``or any children +enrolled on or after October 1, 2013'' before the period. + (d) Income Eligibility Determined Using Modified Gross Income.-- + (1) State plan requirement.--Section 2102(b)(1)(B) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397bb(b)(1)(B)) is amended-- + (A) in clause (iii), by striking ``and'' after the + semicolon; + (B) in clause (iv), by striking the period and + inserting ``; and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(v) <> shall, + beginning January 1, 2014, use modified gross + income and household income (as defined in section + 36B(d)(2) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986) to + determine eligibility for child health assistance + under the State child health plan or under any + waiver of such plan and for any other purpose + applicable under the plan or waiver for which a + determination of income is required, including + with respect to the imposition of premiums and + cost-sharing, consistent with section + 1902(e)(14).''. + (2) Conforming amendment.--Section 2107(e)(1) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397gg(e)(1)) is amended-- + (A) by redesignating subparagraphs (E) through (L) + as subparagraphs (F) through (M), respectively; and + (B) by inserting after subparagraph (D), the + following: + ``(E) Section 1902(e)(14) (relating to income + determined using modified gross income and household + income).''. + + (e) Application of Streamlined Enrollment System.--Section +2107(e)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397gg(e)(1)), as +amended by subsection (d)(2), is amended by adding at the end the +following: + ``(N) Section 1943(b) (relating to coordination with + State Exchanges and the State Medicaid agency).''. + + (f) <> CHIP Eligibility for Children +Ineligible for Medicaid as a Result of Elimination of Disregards.-- +Notwithstanding any other provision of law, a State shall treat any +child who is determined to be ineligible for medical assistance under +the State Medicaid plan or under a waiver of the plan as a result of the +elimination of the application of an income disregard based on expense +or type of income, as required under section 1902(e)(14) of the Social +Security Act (as added by this Act), as a targeted low-income child +under section 2110(b) (unless the child is excluded under paragraph (2) +of that section) and shall provide child health assistance to the child +under the State child health plan (whether + +[[Page 124 STAT. 288]] + +implemented under title XIX or XXI, or both, of the Social Security +Act). + +SEC. 2102. TECHNICAL CORRECTIONS. + + (a) <> CHIPRA.--Effective +as if included in the enactment of the Children's Health Insurance +Program Reauthorization Act of 2009 (Public Law 111-3) (in this section +referred to as ``CHIPRA''): + (1) Section 2104(m) of the Social Security Act, as added by + section 102 of CHIPRA, <> is amended-- + (A) by redesignating paragraph (7) as paragraph (8); + and + (B) by inserting after paragraph (6), the following: + ``(7) Adjustment of fiscal year 2010 allotments to account + for changes in projected spending for certain previously + approved expansion programs.--For purposes of recalculating the + fiscal year 2010 allotment, in the case of one of the 50 States + or the District of Columbia that has an approved State plan + amendment effective January 1, 2006, to provide child health + assistance through the provision of benefits under the State + plan under title XIX for children from birth through age 5 whose + family income does not exceed 200 percent of the poverty line, + the Secretary shall increase the allotment by an amount that + would be equal to the Federal share of expenditures that would + have been claimed at the enhanced FMAP rate rather than the + Federal medical assistance percentage matching rate for such + population.''. + (2) Section 605 of CHIPRA <> is + amended by striking ``legal residents'' and insert ``lawfully + residing in the United States''. + (3) Subclauses (I) and (II) of paragraph (3)(C)(i) of + section 2105(a) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1397ee(a)(3)(ii)), as added by section 104 of CHIPRA, are each + amended by striking ``, respectively''. + (4) Section 2105(a)(3)(E)(ii) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1397ee(a)(3)(E)(ii)), as added by section 104 of CHIPRA, + is amended by striking subclause (IV). + (5) Section 2105(c)(9)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1397e(c)(9)(B)), <> as added by + section 211(c)(1) of CHIPRA, is amended by striking ``section + 1903(a)(3)(F)'' and inserting ``section 1903(a)(3)(G)''. + (6) Section 2109(b)(2)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1397ii(b)(2)(B)), as added by section 602 of CHIPRA, is + amended by striking ``the child population growth factor under + section 2104(m)(5)(B)'' and inserting ``a high-performing State + under section 2111(b)(3)(B)''. + (7) Section 2110(c)(9)(B)(v) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1397jj(c)(9)(B)(v)), as added by section 505(b) of + CHIPRA, is amended by striking ``school or school system'' and + inserting ``local educational agency (as defined under section + 9101 of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965''. + (8) Section 211(a)(1)(B) of CHIPRA <> + is amended-- + (A) by striking ``is amended'' and all that follows + through ``adding'' and inserting ``is amended by + adding''; and + (B) by redesignating the new subparagraph to be + added by such section to section 1903(a)(3) of the + Social Security Act as a new subparagraph (H). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 289]] + + (b) <> ARRA.--Effective as if included +in the enactment of section 5006(a) of division B of the American +Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 (Public Law 111-5), the second +sentence of section 1916A(a)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1396o-1(a)(1)) is amended by striking ``or (i)'' and inserting ``, (i), +or (j)''. + + Subtitle C--Medicaid and CHIP Enrollment Simplification + +SEC. 2201. ENROLLMENT SIMPLIFICATION AND COORDINATION WITH STATE HEALTH + INSURANCE EXCHANGES. + + Title XIX of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397aa et seq.) is +amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 1943. <> ENROLLMENT SIMPLIFICATION AND + COORDINATION WITH STATE HEALTH INSURANCE EXCHANGES. + + ``(a) Condition for Participation in Medicaid. <> --As a condition of the State plan under this title and receipt +of any Federal financial assistance under section 1903(a) for calendar +quarters beginning after January 1, 2014, a State shall ensure that the +requirements of subsection (b) is met. + + ``(b) Enrollment Simplification and Coordination With State Health +Insurance Exchanges and Chip.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> A State shall + establish procedures for-- + ``(A) <> enabling individuals, + through an Internet website that meets the requirements + of paragraph (4), to apply for medical assistance under + the State plan or under a waiver of the plan, to be + enrolled in the State plan or waiver, to renew their + enrollment in the plan or waiver, and to consent to + enrollment or reenrollment in the State plan through + electronic signature; + ``(B) enrolling, without any further determination + by the State and through such website, individuals who + are identified by an Exchange established by the State + under section 1311 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act as being eligible for-- + ``(i) medical assistance under the State plan + or under a waiver of the plan; or + ``(ii) child health assistance under the State + child health plan under title XXI; + ``(C) ensuring that individuals who apply for but + are determined to be ineligible for medical assistance + under the State plan or a waiver or ineligible for child + health assistance under the State child health plan + under title XXI, are screened for eligibility for + enrollment in qualified health plans offered through + such an Exchange and, if applicable, premium assistance + for the purchase of a qualified health plan under + section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (and, + if applicable, advance payment of such assistance under + section 1412 of the Patient Protection and Affordable + Care Act), and, if eligible, enrolled in such a plan + without having to submit an additional or separate + application, and that such individuals receive + information regarding reduced cost-sharing for eligible + individuals under section 1402 of the Patient Protection + and Affordable + +[[Page 124 STAT. 290]] + + Care Act, and any other assistance or subsidies + available for coverage obtained through the Exchange; + ``(D) ensuring that the State agency responsible for + administering the State plan under this title (in this + section referred to as the `State Medicaid agency'), the + State agency responsible for administering the State + child health plan under title XXI (in this section + referred to as the `State CHIP agency') and an Exchange + established by the State under section 1311 of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act utilize a + secure electronic interface sufficient to allow for a + determination of an individual's eligibility for such + medical assistance, child health assistance, or premium + assistance, and enrollment in the State plan under this + title, title XXI, or a qualified health plan, as + appropriate; + ``(E) coordinating, for individuals who are enrolled + in the State plan or under a waiver of the plan and who + are also enrolled in a qualified health plan offered + through such an Exchange, and for individuals who are + enrolled in the State child health plan under title XXI + and who are also enrolled in a qualified health plan, + the provision of medical assistance or child health + assistance to such individuals with the coverage + provided under the qualified health plan in which they + are enrolled, including services described in section + 1905(a)(4)(B) (relating to early and periodic screening, + diagnostic, and treatment services defined in section + 1905(r)) and provided in accordance with the + requirements of section 1902(a)(43); and + ``(F) conducting outreach to and enrolling + vulnerable and underserved populations eligible for + medical assistance under this title XIX or for child + health assistance under title XXI, including children, + unaccompanied homeless youth, children and youth with + special health care needs, pregnant women, racial and + ethnic minorities, rural populations, victims of abuse + or trauma, individuals with mental health or substance- + related disorders, and individuals with HIV/AIDS. + ``(2) Agreements with state health insurance exchanges.--The + State Medicaid agency and the State CHIP agency may enter into + an agreement with an Exchange established by the State under + section 1311 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act + under which the State Medicaid agency or State CHIP agency may + determine whether a State resident is eligible for premium + assistance for the purchase of a qualified health plan under + section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (and, if + applicable, advance payment of such assistance under section + 1412 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act), so long + as the agreement meets such conditions and requirements as the + Secretary of the Treasury may prescribe to reduce administrative + costs and the likelihood of eligibility errors and disruptions + in coverage. + ``(3) Streamlined enrollment system.--The State Medicaid + agency and State CHIP agency shall participate in and comply + with the requirements for the system established under section + 1413 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (relating + to streamlined procedures for enrollment through an Exchange, + Medicaid, and CHIP). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 291]] + + ``(4) Enrollment website requirements.-- + <> The procedures established by State under + paragraph (1) shall include establishing and having in + operation, not later than January 1, 2014, an Internet website + that is linked to any website of an Exchange established by the + State under section 1311 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act and to the State CHIP agency (if different + from the State Medicaid agency) and allows an individual who is + eligible for medical assistance under the State plan or under a + waiver of the plan and who is eligible to receive premium credit + assistance for the purchase of a qualified health plan under + section 36B of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 to compare the + benefits, premiums, and cost-sharing applicable to the + individual under the State plan or waiver with the benefits, + premiums, and cost-sharing available to the individual under a + qualified health plan offered through such an Exchange, + including, in the case of a child, the coverage that would be + provided for the child through the State plan or waiver with the + coverage that would be provided to the child through enrollment + in family coverage under that plan and as supplemental coverage + by the State under the State plan or waiver. + ``(5) Continued need for assessment for home and community- + based services.--Nothing in paragraph (1) shall limit or modify + the requirement that the State assess an individual for purposes + of providing home and community-based services under the State + plan or under any waiver of such plan for individuals described + in subsection (a)(10)(A)(ii)(VI).''. + +SEC. 2202. PERMITTING HOSPITALS TO MAKE PRESUMPTIVE ELIGIBILITY + DETERMINATIONS FOR ALL MEDICAID ELIGIBLE POPULATIONS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1902(a)(47) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396a(a)(47)) is amended-- + (1) by striking ``at the option of the State, provide'' and + inserting ``provide-- + ``(A) at the option of the State,''; + (2) by inserting ``and'' after the semicolon; and + (3) by adding at the end the following: + ``(B) <> that any hospital that + is a participating provider under the State plan may + elect to be a qualified entity for purposes of + determining, on the basis of preliminary information, + whether any individual is eligible for medical + assistance under the State plan or under a waiver of the + plan for purposes of providing the individual with + medical assistance during a presumptive eligibility + period, in the same manner, and subject to the same + requirements, as apply to the State options with respect + to populations described in section 1920, 1920A, or + 1920B (but without regard to whether the State has + elected to provide for a presumptive eligibility period + under any such sections), subject to such guidance as + the Secretary shall establish;''. + + (b) Conforming Amendment.--Section 1903(u)(1)(D)(v) of such Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396b(u)(1)(D)v)) is amended-- + (1) by striking ``or for'' and inserting ``for''; and + (2) by inserting before the period at the end the following: + ``, or for medical assistance provided to an individual during a + presumptive eligibility period resulting from a determination + +[[Page 124 STAT. 292]] + + of presumptive eligibility made by a hospital that elects under + section 1902(a)(47)(B) to be a qualified entity for such + purpose''. + + (c) <> Effective Date.-- +The amendments made by this section take effect on January 1, 2014, and +apply to services furnished on or after that date. + + Subtitle D--Improvements to Medicaid Services + +SEC. 2301. COVERAGE FOR FREESTANDING BIRTH CENTER SERVICES. + + (a) In General.--Section 1905 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1396d), is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)-- + (A) in paragraph (27), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) by redesignating paragraph (28) as paragraph + (29); and + (C) by inserting after paragraph (27) the following + new paragraph: + ``(28) freestanding birth center services (as defined in + subsection (l)(3)(A)) and other ambulatory services that are + offered by a freestanding birth center (as defined in subsection + (l)(3)(B)) and that are otherwise included in the plan; and''; + and + (2) in subsection (l), by adding at the end the following + new paragraph: + + ``(3)(A) <> The term `freestanding birth center +services' means services furnished to an individual at a freestanding +birth center (as defined in subparagraph (B)) at such center. + + ``(B) The term `freestanding birth center' means a health facility-- + ``(i) that is not a hospital; + ``(ii) where childbirth is planned to occur away from the + pregnant woman's residence; + ``(iii) that is licensed or otherwise approved by the State + to provide prenatal labor and delivery or postpartum care and + other ambulatory services that are included in the plan; and + ``(iv) that complies with such other requirements relating + to the health and safety of individuals furnished services by + the facility as the State shall establish. + + ``(C) <> A State shall provide separate payments +to providers administering prenatal labor and delivery or postpartum +care in a freestanding birth center (as defined in subparagraph (B)), +such as nurse midwives and other providers of services such as birth +attendants recognized under State law, as determined appropriate by the +Secretary. For purposes of the preceding sentence, the term `birth +attendant' means an individual who is recognized or registered by the +State involved to provide health care at childbirth and who provides +such care within the scope of practice under which the individual is +legally authorized to perform such care under State law (or the State +regulatory mechanism provided by State law), regardless of whether the +individual is under the supervision of, or associated with, a physician +or other health care provider. Nothing in this subparagraph shall be +construed as changing State law requirements applicable to a birth +attendant.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendment.--Section 1902(a)(10)(A) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)(10)(A)), is amended in the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 293]] + +matter preceding clause (i) by striking ``and (21)'' and inserting ``, +(21), and (28)''. + (c) <> Effective Date.-- + (1) In general.-- <> Except as + provided in paragraph (2), the amendments made by this section + shall take effect on the date of the enactment of this Act and + shall apply to services furnished on or after such date. + (2) Exception if state legislation required.-- + <> In the case of a State plan for medical + assistance under title XIX of the Social Security Act which the + Secretary of Health and Human Services determines requires State + legislation (other than legislation appropriating funds) in + order for the plan to meet the additional requirement imposed by + the amendments made by this section, the State plan shall not be + regarded as failing to comply with the requirements of such + title solely on the basis of its failure to meet this additional + requirement before the first day of the first calendar quarter + beginning after the close of the first regular session of the + State legislature that begins after the date of the enactment of + this Act. For purposes of the previous sentence, in the case of + a State that has a 2-year legislative session, each year of such + session shall be deemed to be a separate regular session of the + State legislature. + +SEC. 2302. CONCURRENT CARE FOR CHILDREN. + + (a) In General.--Section 1905(o)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396d(o)(1)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``subparagraph (B)'' + and inserting ``subparagraphs (B) and (C)''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + + ``(C) A voluntary election to have payment made for hospice care for +a child (as defined by the State) shall not constitute a waiver of any +rights of the child to be provided with, or to have payment made under +this title for, services that are related to the treatment of the +child's condition for which a diagnosis of terminal illness has been +made.''. + (b) Application to CHIP.--Section 2110(a)(23) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1397jj(a)(23)) is amended by inserting ``(concurrent, in +the case of an individual who is a child, with care related to the +treatment of the child's condition with respect to which a diagnosis of +terminal illness has been made'' after ``hospice care''. + +SEC. 2303. STATE ELIGIBILITY OPTION FOR FAMILY PLANNING SERVICES. + + (a) Coverage as Optional Categorically Needy Group.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1902(a)(10)(A)(ii) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)(10)(A)(ii)), as amended by + section 2001(e), is amended-- + (A) in subclause (XIX), by striking ``or'' at the + end; + (B) in subclause (XX), by adding ``or'' at the end; + and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + subclause: + ``(XXI) who are described in + subsection (ii) (relating to individuals + who meet certain income standards);''. + (2) Group described.--Section 1902 of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396a), as amended by section 2001(d), is amended by adding at + the end the following new subsection: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 294]] + + ``(ii)(1) Individuals described in this subsection are individuals-- + ``(A) whose income does not exceed an income + eligibility level established by the State that does not + exceed the highest income eligibility level established + under the State plan under this title (or under its + State child health plan under title XXI) for pregnant + women; and + ``(B) who are not pregnant. + ``(2) At the option of a State, individuals described in + this subsection may include individuals who, had individuals + applied on or before January 1, 2007, would have been made + eligible pursuant to the standards and processes imposed by that + State for benefits described in clause (XV) of the matter + following subparagraph (G) of section subsection (a)(10) + pursuant to a waiver granted under section 1115. + ``(3) At the option of a State, for purposes of subsection + (a)(17)(B), in determining eligibility for services under this + subsection, the State may consider only the income of the + applicant or recipient.''. + (3) Limitation on benefits.--Section 1902(a)(10) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)(10)), as amended by + section 2001(a)(5)(A), is amended in the matter following + subparagraph (G)-- + (A) by striking ``and (XV)'' and inserting ``(XV)''; + and + (B) by inserting ``, and (XVI) the medical + assistance made available to an individual described in + subsection (ii) shall be limited to family planning + services and supplies described in section 1905(a)(4)(C) + including medical diagnosis and treatment services that + are provided pursuant to a family planning service in a + family planning setting'' before the semicolon. + (4) Conforming amendments.-- + (A) Section 1905(a) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1396d(a)), as amended by section 2001(e)(2)(A), + is amended in the matter preceding paragraph (1)-- + (i) in clause (xiv), by striking ``or'' at the + end; + (ii) in clause (xv), by adding ``or'' at the + end; and + (iii) by inserting after clause (xv) the + following: + ``(xvi) individuals described in section + 1902(ii),''. + (B) Section 1903(f)(4) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396b(f)(4)), as amended by section 2001(e)(2)(B), is + amended by inserting ``1902(a)(10)(A)(ii)(XXI),'' after + ``1902(a)(10)(A)(ii)(XX),''. + + (b) Presumptive Eligibility.-- + (1) In general.--Title XIX of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1396 et seq.) is amended by inserting after section 1920B + the following: + + + ``presumptive eligibility for family planning services + + + ``Sec. 1920C. <> (a) State Option.--State +plan approved under section 1902 may provide for making medical +assistance available to an individual described in section 1902(ii) +(relating to individuals who meet certain income eligibility standard) +during a presumptive eligibility period. In the case of an individual +described in section 1902(ii), such medical assistance shall be limited +to family planning services and supplies described in 1905(a)(4)(C) and, +at the State's option, medical diagnosis and treatment services that are +provided + +[[Page 124 STAT. 295]] + +in conjunction with a family planning service in a family planning +setting. + + ``(b) Definitions.--For purposes of this section: + ``(1) Presumptive eligibility period.--The term `presumptive + eligibility period' means, with respect to an individual + described in subsection (a), the period that-- + ``(A) begins with the date on which a qualified + entity determines, on the basis of preliminary + information, that the individual is described in section + 1902(ii); and + ``(B) ends with (and includes) the earlier of-- + ``(i) the day on which a determination is made + with respect to the eligibility of such individual + for services under the State plan; or + ``(ii) in the case of such an individual who + does not file an application by the last day of + the month following the month during which the + entity makes the determination referred to in + subparagraph (A), such last day. + ``(2) Qualified entity.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), the + term `qualified entity' means any entity that-- + ``(i) is eligible for payments under a State + plan approved under this title; and + ``(ii) is determined by the State agency to be + capable of making determinations of the type + described in paragraph (1)(A). + ``(B) Rule of construction.--Nothing in this + paragraph shall be construed as preventing a State from + limiting the classes of entities that may become + qualified entities in order to prevent fraud and abuse. + + ``(c) Administration.-- + ``(1) In general.--The State agency shall provide qualified + entities with-- + ``(A) such forms as are necessary for an application + to be made by an individual described in subsection (a) + for medical assistance under the State plan; and + ``(B) information on how to assist such individuals + in completing and filing such forms. + ``(2) Notification requirements.--A qualified entity that + determines under subsection (b)(1)(A) that an individual + described in subsection (a) is presumptively eligible for + medical assistance under a State plan shall-- + ``(A) <> notify the State agency + of the determination within 5 working days after the + date on which determination is made; and + ``(B) inform such individual at the time the + determination is made that an application for medical + assistance is required to be made by not later than the + last day of the month following the month during which + the determination is made. + ``(3) Application for medical assistance.-- + <> In the case of an individual described in + subsection (a) who is determined by a qualified entity to be + presumptively eligible for medical assistance under a State + plan, the individual shall apply for medical assistance by not + later than the last day of the month following the month during + which the determination is made. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 296]] + + ``(d) Payment.--Notwithstanding any other provision of law, medical +assistance that-- + ``(1) is furnished to an individual described in subsection + (a)-- + ``(A) during a presumptive eligibility period; and + ``(B) by a entity that is eligible for payments + under the State plan; and + ``(2) is included in the care and services covered by the + State plan, + +shall be treated as medical assistance provided by such plan for +purposes of clause (4) of the first sentence of section 1905(b).''. + (2) Conforming amendments.-- + (A) Section 1902(a)(47) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)(47)), as amended by section 2202(a), + is amended-- + (i) in subparagraph (A), by inserting before + the semicolon at the end the following: ``and + provide for making medical assistance available to + individuals described in subsection (a) of section + 1920C during a presumptive eligibility period in + accordance with such section''; and + (ii) in subparagraph (B), by striking ``or + 1920B'' and inserting ``1920B, or 1920C''. + (B) Section 1903(u)(1)(D)(v) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396b(u)(1)(D)(v)), as amended by section 2202(b), is + amended by inserting ``or for medical assistance + provided to an individual described in subsection (a) of + section 1920C during a presumptive eligibility period + under such section,'' after ``1920B during a presumptive + eligibility period under such section,''. + + (c) Clarification of Coverage of Family Planning Services and +Supplies.--Section 1937(b) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396u- +7(b)), as amended by section 2001(c), is amended by adding at the end +the following: + ``(7) Coverage of family planning services and supplies.-- + Notwithstanding the previous provisions of this section, a State + may not provide for medical assistance through enrollment of an + individual with benchmark coverage or benchmark-equivalent + coverage under this section unless such coverage includes for + any individual described in section 1905(a)(4)(C), medical + assistance for family planning services and supplies in + accordance with such section.''. + + (d) Effective Date. <> -- +The amendments made by this section take effect on the date of the +enactment of this Act and shall apply to items and services furnished on +or after such date. + +SEC. 2304. CLARIFICATION OF DEFINITION OF MEDICAL ASSISTANCE. + + Section 1905(a) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(a)) is +amended by inserting ``or the care and services themselves, or both'' +before ``(if provided in or after''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 297]] + + Subtitle E--New Options for States to Provide Long-Term Services and + Supports + +SEC. 2401. COMMUNITY FIRST CHOICE OPTION. + + Section 1915 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396n) is amended +by adding at the end the following: + ``(k) State Plan Option To Provide Home and Community-based +Attendant Services and Supports.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> Subject to the + succeeding provisions of this subsection, beginning October 1, + 2010, a State may provide through a State plan amendment for the + provision of medical assistance for home and community-based + attendant services and supports for individuals who are eligible + for medical assistance under the State plan whose income does + not exceed 150 percent of the poverty line (as defined in + section 2110(c)(5)) or, if greater, the income level applicable + for an individual who has been determined to require an + institutional level of care to be eligible for nursing facility + services under the State plan and with respect to whom there has + been a determination that, but for the provision of such + services, the individuals would require the level of care + provided in a hospital, a nursing facility, an intermediate care + facility for the mentally retarded, or an institution for mental + diseases, the cost of which could be reimbursed under the State + plan, but only if the individual chooses to receive such home + and community-based attendant services and supports, and only if + the State meets the following requirements: + ``(A) Availability.--The State shall make available + home and community-based attendant services and supports + to eligible individuals, as needed, to assist in + accomplishing activities of daily living, instrumental + activities of daily living, and health-related tasks + through hands-on assistance, supervision, or cueing-- + ``(i) <> under a person- + centered plan of services and supports that is + based on an assessment of functional need and that + is agreed to in writing by the individual or, as + appropriate, the individual's representative; + ``(ii) in a home or community setting, which + does not include a nursing facility, institution + for mental diseases, or an intermediate care + facility for the mentally retarded; + ``(iii) under an agency-provider model or + other model (as defined in paragraph (6)(C )); and + ``(iv) the furnishing of which-- + ``(I) is selected, managed, and + dismissed by the individual, or, as + appropriate, with assistance from the + individual's representative; + ``(II) is controlled, to the maximum + extent possible, by the individual or + where appropriate, the individual's + representative, regardless of who may + act as the employer of record; and + ``(III) provided by an individual + who is qualified to provide such + services, including family members (as + defined by the Secretary). + ``(B) Included services and supports.--In addition + to assistance in accomplishing activities of daily + living, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 298]] + + instrumental activities of daily living, and health + related tasks, the home and community-based attendant + services and supports made available include-- + ``(i) the acquisition, maintenance, and + enhancement of skills necessary for the individual + to accomplish activities of daily living, + instrumental activities of daily living, and + health related tasks; + ``(ii) back-up systems or mechanisms (such as + the use of beepers or other electronic devices) to + ensure continuity of services and supports; and + ``(iii) voluntary training on how to select, + manage, and dismiss attendants. + ``(C) Excluded services and supports.--Subject to + subparagraph (D), the home and community-based attendant + services and supports made available do not include-- + ``(i) room and board costs for the individual; + ``(ii) special education and related services + provided under the Individuals with Disabilities + Education Act and vocational rehabilitation + services provided under the Rehabilitation Act of + 1973; + ``(iii) assistive technology devices and + assistive technology services other than those + under (1)(B)(ii); + ``(iv) medical supplies and equipment; or + ``(v) home modifications. + ``(D) Permissible services and supports.--The home + and community-based attendant services and supports may + include-- + ``(i) expenditures for transition costs such + as rent and utility deposits, first month's rent + and utilities, bedding, basic kitchen supplies, + and other necessities required for an individual + to make the transition from a nursing facility, + institution for mental diseases, or intermediate + care facility for the mentally retarded to a + community-based home setting where the individual + resides; and + ``(ii) expenditures relating to a need + identified in an individual's person-centered plan + of services that increase independence or + substitute for human assistance, to the extent + that expenditures would otherwise be made for the + human assistance. + ``(2) Increased federal financial participation.--For + purposes of payments to a State under section 1903(a)(1), with + respect to amounts expended by the State to provide medical + assistance under the State plan for home and community-based + attendant services and supports to eligible individuals in + accordance with this subsection during a fiscal year quarter + occurring during the period described in paragraph (1), the + Federal medical assistance percentage applicable to the State + (as determined under section 1905(b)) shall be increased by 6 + percentage points. + ``(3) State requirements.--In order for a State plan + amendment to be approved under this subsection, the State + shall-- + ``(A) <> develop and + implement such amendment in collaboration with a + Development and Implementation Council established by + the State that includes a majority of members with + disabilities, elderly individuals, and their + +[[Page 124 STAT. 299]] + + representatives and consults and collaborates with such + individuals; + ``(B) provide consumer controlled home and + community-based attendant services and supports to + individuals on a statewide basis, in a manner that + provides such services and supports in the most + integrated setting appropriate to the individual's + needs, and without regard to the individual's age, type + or nature of disability, severity of disability, or the + form of home and community-based attendant services and + supports that the individual requires in order to lead + an independent life; + ``(C) with respect to expenditures during the first + full fiscal year in which the State plan amendment is + implemented, maintain or exceed the level of State + expenditures for medical assistance that is provided + under section 1905(a), section 1915, section 1115, or + otherwise to individuals with disabilities or elderly + individuals attributable to the preceding fiscal year; + ``(D) establish and maintain a comprehensive, + continuous quality assurance system with respect to + community- based attendant services and supports that-- + ``(i) includes standards for agency-based and + other delivery models with respect to training, + appeals for denials and reconsideration procedures + of an individual plan, and other factors as + determined by the Secretary; + ``(ii) incorporates feedback from consumers + and their representatives, disability + organizations, providers, families of disabled or + elderly individuals, members of the community, and + others and maximizes consumer independence and + consumer control; + ``(iii) monitors the health and well-being of + each individual who receives home and community- + based attendant services and supports, including a + process for the mandatory reporting, + investigation, and resolution of allegations of + neglect, abuse, or exploitation in connection with + the provision of such services and supports; and + ``(iv) provides information about the + provisions of the quality assurance required under + clauses (i) through (iii) to each individual + receiving such services; and + ``(E) <> collect and + report information, as determined necessary by the + Secretary, for the purposes of approving the State plan + amendment, providing Federal oversight, and conducting + an evaluation under paragraph (5)(A), including data + regarding how the State provides home and community- + based attendant services and supports and other home and + community-based services, the cost of such services and + supports, and how the State provides individuals with + disabilities who otherwise qualify for institutional + care under the State plan or under a waiver the choice + to instead receive home and community-based services in + lieu of institutional care. + ``(4) Compliance with certain laws.--A State shall ensure + that, regardless of whether the State uses an agency-provider + model or other models to provide home and community-based + attendant services and supports under a State plan + +[[Page 124 STAT. 300]] + + amendment under this subsection, such services and supports are + provided in accordance with the requirements of the Fair Labor + Standards Act of 1938 and applicable Federal and State laws + regarding-- + ``(A) withholding and payment of Federal and State + income and payroll taxes; + ``(B) the provision of unemployment and workers + compensation insurance; + ``(C) maintenance of general liability insurance; + and + ``(D) occupational health and safety. + ``(5) Evaluation, data collection, and report to congress.-- + ``(A) Evaluation.--The Secretary shall conduct an + evaluation of the provision of home and community-based + attendant services and supports under this subsection in + order to determine the effectiveness of the provision of + such services and supports in allowing the individuals + receiving such services and supports to lead an + independent life to the maximum extent possible; the + impact on the physical and emotional health of the + individuals who receive such services; and an + comparative analysis of the costs of services provided + under the State plan amendment under this subsection and + those provided under institutional care in a nursing + facility, institution for mental diseases, or an + intermediate care facility for the mentally retarded. + ``(B) Data collection.--The State shall provide the + Secretary with the following information regarding the + provision of home and community-based attendant services + and supports under this subsection for each fiscal year + for which such services and supports are provided: + ``(i) The number of individuals who are + estimated to receive home and community-based + attendant services and supports under this + subsection during the fiscal year. + ``(ii) The number of individuals that received + such services and supports during the preceding + fiscal year. + ``(iii) The specific number of individuals + served by type of disability, age, gender, + education level, and employment status. + ``(iv) Whether the specific individuals have + been previously served under any other home and + community based services program under the State + plan or under a waiver. + ``(C) Reports.--Not later than-- + ``(i) December 31, 2013, the Secretary shall + submit to Congress and make available to the + public an interim report on the findings of the + evaluation under subparagraph (A); and + ``(ii) December 31, 2015, the Secretary shall + submit to Congress and make available to the + public a final report on the findings of the + evaluation under subparagraph (A). + ``(6) Definitions.--In this subsection: + ``(A) Activities of daily living.--The term + `activities of daily living' includes tasks such as + eating, toileting, grooming, dressing, bathing, and + transferring. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 301]] + + ``(B) Consumer controlled.--The term `consumer + controlled' means a method of selecting and providing + services and supports that allow the individual, or + where appropriate, the individual's representative, + maximum control of the home and community-based + attendant services and supports, regardless of who acts + as the employer of record. + ``(C) Delivery models.-- + ``(i) Agency-provider model.--The term + `agency-provider model' means, with respect to the + provision of home and community-based attendant + services and supports for an individual, subject + to paragraph (4), a method of providing consumer + controlled services and supports under which + entities contract for the provision of such + services and supports. + ``(ii) Other models.--The term `other models' + means, subject to paragraph (4), methods, other + than an agency-provider model, for the provision + of consumer controlled services and supports. Such + models may include the provision of vouchers, + direct cash payments, or use of a fiscal agent to + assist in obtaining services. + ``(D) Health-related tasks.--The term `health- + related tasks' means specific tasks related to the needs + of an individual, which can be delegated or assigned by + licensed health-care professionals under State law to be + performed by an attendant. + ``(E) Individual's representative.--The term + `individual's representative' means a parent, family + member, guardian, advocate, or other authorized + representative of an individual + ``(F) Instrumental activities of daily living.--The + term `instrumental activities of daily living' includes + (but is not limited to) meal planning and preparation, + managing finances, shopping for food, clothing, and + other essential items, performing essential household + chores, communicating by phone or other media, and + traveling around and participating in the community.''. + +SEC. 2402. REMOVAL OF BARRIERS TO PROVIDING HOME AND COMMUNITY-BASED + SERVICES. + + (a) <> Oversight and Assessment of the +Administration of Home and Community-based Services.-- +<> The Secretary of Health and Human Services shall +promulgate regulations to ensure that all States develop service systems +that are designed to-- + (1) allocate resources for services in a manner that is + responsive to the changing needs and choices of beneficiaries + receiving non-institutionally-based long-term services and + supports (including such services and supports that are provided + under programs other the State Medicaid program), and that + provides strategies for beneficiaries receiving such services to + maximize their independence, including through the use of + client-employed providers; + (2) provide the support and coordination needed for a + beneficiary in need of such services (and their family + caregivers or representative, if applicable) to design an + individualized, self-directed, community-supported life; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 302]] + + (3) improve coordination among, and the regulation of, all + providers of such services under federally and State-funded + programs in order to-- + (A) achieve a more consistent administration of + policies and procedures across programs in relation to + the provision of such services; and + (B) oversee and monitor all service system functions + to assure-- + (i) coordination of, and effectiveness of, + eligibility determinations and individual + assessments; + (ii) development and service monitoring of a + complaint system, a management system, a system to + qualify and monitor providers, and systems for + role-setting and individual budget determinations; + and + (iii) an adequate number of qualified direct + care workers to provide self-directed personal + assistance services. + + (b) Additional State Options.--Section 1915(i) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396n(i)) is amended by adding at the end the +following new paragraphs: + ``(6) State option to provide home and community-based + services to individuals eligible for services under a waiver.-- + ``(A) In general.--A State that provides home and + community-based services in accordance with this + subsection to individuals who satisfy the needs-based + criteria for the receipt of such services established + under paragraph (1)(A) may, in addition to continuing to + provide such services to such individuals, elect to + provide home and community-based services in accordance + with the requirements of this paragraph to individuals + who are eligible for home and community-based services + under a waiver approved for the State under subsection + (c), (d), or (e) or under section 1115 to provide such + services, but only for those individuals whose income + does not exceed 300 percent of the supplemental security + income benefit rate established by section 1611(b)(1). + ``(B) Application of same requirements for + individuals satisfying needs-based criteria.--Subject to + subparagraph (C), a State shall provide home and + community-based services to individuals under this + paragraph in the same manner and subject to the same + requirements as apply under the other paragraphs of this + subsection to the provision of home and community-based + services to individuals who satisfy the needs-based + criteria established under paragraph (1)(A). + ``(C) Authority to offer different type, amount, + duration, or scope of home and community-based + services.--A State may offer home and community-based + services to individuals under this paragraph that differ + in type, amount, duration, or scope from the home and + community-based services offered for individuals who + satisfy the needs-based criteria established under + paragraph (1)(A), so long as such services are within + the scope of services described in paragraph (4)(B) of + subsection (c) for which the Secretary has the authority + to approve a waiver and do not include room or board. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 303]] + + ``(7) State option to offer home and community-based + services to specific, targeted populations.-- + ``(A) In general.--A State may elect in a State plan + amendment under this subsection to target the provision + of home and community-based services under this + subsection to specific populations and to differ the + type, amount, duration, or scope of such services to + such specific populations. + ``(B) 5-year term.-- + ``(i) In general.--An election by a State + under this paragraph shall be for a period of 5 + years. + ``(ii) Phase-in of services and eligibility + permitted during initial 5-year period.--A State + making an election under this paragraph may, + during the first 5-year period for which the + election is made, phase-in the enrollment of + eligible individuals, or the provision of services + to such individuals, or both, so long as all + eligible individuals in the State for such + services are enrolled, and all such services are + provided, before the end of the initial 5-year + period. + ``(C) Renewal. <> --An election by a + State under this paragraph may be renewed for additional + 5-year terms if the Secretary determines, prior to + beginning of each such renewal period, that the State + has-- + ``(i) adhered to the requirements of this + subsection and paragraph in providing services + under such an election; and + ``(ii) met the State's objectives with respect + to quality improvement and beneficiary + outcomes.''. + + (c) Removal of Limitation on Scope of Services.--Paragraph (1) of +section 1915(i) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396n(i)), as +amended by subsection (a), is amended by striking ``or such other +services requested by the State as the Secretary may approve''. + (d) Optional Eligibility Category To Provide Full Medicaid Benefits +to Individuals Receiving Home and Community-based Services Under a State +Plan Amendment.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1902(a)(10)(A)(ii) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)(10)(A)(ii)), as amended by + section 2304(a)(1), is amended-- + (A) in subclause (XX), by striking ``or'' at the + end; + (B) in subclause (XXI), by adding ``or'' at the end; + and + (C) by inserting after subclause (XXI), the + following new subclause: + ``(XXII) who are eligible for home + and community-based services under + needs-based criteria established under + paragraph (1)(A) of section 1915(i), or + who are eligible for home and community- + based services under paragraph (6) of + such section, and who will receive home + and community-based services pursuant to + a State plan amendment under such + subsection;''. + (2) Conforming amendments.-- + (A) Section 1903(f)(4) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1396b(f)(4)), as amended by section + 2304(a)(4)(B), is amended in the matter preceding + subparagraph (A), + +[[Page 124 STAT. 304]] + + by inserting ``1902(a)(10)(A)(ii)(XXII),'' after + ``1902(a)(10)(A)(ii)(XXI),''. + (B) Section 1905(a) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1396d(a)), as so amended, is amended in the + matter preceding paragraph (1)-- + (i) in clause (xv), by striking ``or'' at the + end; + (ii) in clause (xvi), by adding ``or'' at the + end; and + (iii) by inserting after clause (xvi) the + following new clause: + ``(xvii) individuals who are eligible for home and + community-based services under needs-based criteria established + under paragraph (1)(A) of section 1915(i), or who are eligible + for home and community-based services under paragraph (6) of + such section, and who will receive home and community-based + services pursuant to a State plan amendment under such + subsection,''. + + (e) Elimination of Option To Limit Number of Eligible Individuals or +Length of Period for Grandfathered Individuals if Eligibility Criteria +Is Modified.--Paragraph (1) of section 1915(i) of such Act (42 U.S.C. +1396n(i)) is amended-- + (1) by striking subparagraph (C) and inserting the + following: + ``(C) Projection of number of individuals to be + provided home and community-based services.--The State + submits to the Secretary, in such form and manner, and + upon such frequency as the Secretary shall specify, the + projected number of individuals to be provided home and + community-based services.''; and + (2) in subclause (II) of subparagraph (D)(ii), by striking + ``to be eligible for such services for a period of at least 12 + months beginning on the date the individual first received + medical assistance for such services'' and inserting ``to + continue to be eligible for such services after the effective + date of the modification and until such time as the individual + no longer meets the standard for receipt of such services under + such pre-modified criteria''. + + (f) Elimination of Option To Waive Statewideness; Addition of Option +To Waive Comparability.--Paragraph (3) of section 1915(i) of such Act +(42 U.S.C. 1396n(3)) is amended by striking ``1902(a)(1) (relating to +statewideness)'' and inserting ``1902(a)(10)(B) (relating to +comparability)''. + (g) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by subsections (b) through (f) take effect on the first day of the +first fiscal year quarter that begins after the date of enactment of +this Act. + +SEC. 2403. MONEY FOLLOWS THE PERSON REBALANCING DEMONSTRATION. + + (a) Extension of Demonstration.-- + (1) In general.--Section 6071(h) of the Deficit Reduction + Act of 2005 (42 U.S.C. 1396a note) is amended-- + (A) in paragraph (1)(E), by striking ``fiscal year + 2011'' and inserting ``each of fiscal years 2011 through + 2016''; and + (B) in paragraph (2), by striking ``2011'' and + inserting ``2016''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 305]] + + (2) Evaluation.--Paragraphs (2) and (3) of section 6071(g) + of such Act is amended are each amended by striking ``2011'' and + inserting ``2016''. + + (b) Reduction of Institutional Residency Period.-- + (1) In general.--Section 6071(b)(2) of the Deficit Reduction + Act of 2005 (42 U.S.C. 1396a note) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (A)(i), by striking ``, for a + period of not less than 6 months or for such longer + minimum period, not to exceed 2 years, as may be + specified by the State'' and inserting ``for a period of + not less than 90 consecutive days''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following: + ``Any days that an individual resides in an institution on the + basis of having been admitted solely for purposes of receiving + short-term rehabilitative services for a period for which + payment for such services is limited under title XVIII shall not + be taken into account for purposes of determining the 90-day + period required under subparagraph (A)(i).''. + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendments made by this subsection take effect 30 days after the + date of enactment of this Act. + +SEC. 2404. <> PROTECTION FOR RECIPIENTS OF + HOME AND COMMUNITY-BASED SERVICES AGAINST SPOUSAL + IMPOVERISHMENT. + + <> During the 5-year period that +begins on January 1, 2014, section 1924(h)(1)(A) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-5(h)(1)(A)) shall be applied as though ``is +eligible for medical assistance for home and community-based services +provided under subsection (c), (d), or (i) of section 1915, under a +waiver approved under section 1115, or who is eligible for such medical +assistance by reason of being determined eligible under section +1902(a)(10)(C) or by reason of section 1902(f) or otherwise on the basis +of a reduction of income based on costs incurred for medical or other +remedial care, or who is eligible for medical assistance for home and +community-based attendant services and supports under section 1915(k)'' +were substituted in such section for ``(at the option of the State) is +described in section 1902(a)(10)(A)(ii)(VI)''. + +SEC. 2405. FUNDING TO EXPAND STATE AGING AND DISABILITY RESOURCE + CENTERS. + + Out of any funds in the Treasury not otherwise appropriated, there +is appropriated to the Secretary of Health and Human Services, acting +through the Assistant Secretary for Aging, $10,000,000 for each of +fiscal years 2010 through 2014, to carry out subsections (a)(20)(B)(iii) +and (b)(8) of section 202 of the Older Americans Act of 1965 (42 U.S.C. +3012). + +SEC. 2406. SENSE OF THE SENATE REGARDING LONG-TERM CARE. + + (a) Findings.--The Senate makes the following findings: + (1) Nearly 2 decades have passed since Congress seriously + considered long-term care reform. The United States Bipartisan + Commission on Comprehensive Health Care, also know as the + ``Pepper Commission'', released its ``Call for Action'' + blueprint for health reform in September 1990. In the 20 years + since those recommendations were made, Congress has never acted + on the report. + (2) In 1999, under the United States Supreme Court's + decision in Olmstead v. L.C., 527 U.S. 581 (1999), individuals + +[[Page 124 STAT. 306]] + + with disabilities have the right to choose to receive their + long-term services and supports in the community, rather than in + an institutional setting. + (3) Despite the Pepper Commission and Olmstead decision, the + long-term care provided to our Nation's elderly and disabled has + not improved. In fact, for many, it has gotten far worse. + (4) In 2007, 69 percent of Medicaid long-term care spending + for elderly individuals and adults with physical disabilities + paid for institutional services. Only 6 states spent 50 percent + or more of their Medicaid long-term care dollars on home and + community-based services for elderly individuals and adults with + physical disabilities while \1/2\ of the States spent less than + 25 percent. This disparity continues even though, on average, it + is estimated that Medicaid dollars can support nearly 3 elderly + individuals and adults with physical disabilities in home and + community-based services for every individual in a nursing home. + Although every State has chosen to provide certain services + under home and community-based waivers, these services are + unevenly available within and across States, and reach a small + percentage of eligible individuals. + + (b) Sense of the Senate.--It is the sense of the Senate that-- + (1) during the 111th session of Congress, Congress should + address long-term services and supports in a comprehensive way + that guarantees elderly and disabled individuals the care they + need; and + (2) long term services and supports should be made available + in the community in addition to in institutions. + + Subtitle F--Medicaid Prescription Drug Coverage + +SEC. 2501. PRESCRIPTION DRUG REBATES. + + (a) Increase in Minimum Rebate Percentage for Single Source Drugs +and Innovator Multiple Source Drugs.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1927(c)(1)(B) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8(c)(1)(B)) is amended-- + (A) in clause (i)-- + (i) in subclause (IV), by striking ``and'' at + the end; + (ii) in subclause (V)-- + (I) by inserting ``and before + January 1, 2010'' after ``December 31, + 1995,''; and + (II) by striking the period at the + end and inserting ``; and''; and + (iii) by adding at the end the following new + subclause: + ``(VI) except as provided in clause + (iii), after December 31, 2009, 23.1 + percent.''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(iii) Minimum rebate percentage for certain + drugs.-- + ``(I) In general.--In the case of a + single source drug or an innovator + multiple source drug described in + subclause (II), the minimum rebate + percentage for rebate periods specified + in clause (i)(VI) is 17.1 percent. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 307]] + + ``(II) Drug described.--For purposes + of subclause (I), a single source drug + or an innovator multiple source drug + described in this subclause is any of + the following drugs: + ``(aa) A clotting factor for + which a separate furnishing + payment is made under section + 1842(o)(5) and which is included + on a list of such factors + specified and updated regularly + by the Secretary. + ``(bb) A drug approved by + the Food and Drug Administration + exclusively for pediatric + indications.''. + (2) Recapture of total savings due to increase.--Section + 1927(b)(1) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8(b)(1)) is amended by + adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(C) Special rule for increased minimum rebate + percentage.-- + ``(i) In general. <> --In + addition to the amounts applied as a reduction + under subparagraph (B), for rebate periods + beginning on or after January 1, 2010, during a + fiscal year, the Secretary shall reduce payments + to a State under section 1903(a) in the manner + specified in clause (ii), in an amount equal to + the product of-- + ``(I) 100 percent minus the Federal + medical assistance percentage applicable + to the rebate period for the State; and + ``(II) the amounts received by the + State under such subparagraph that are + attributable (as estimated by the + Secretary based on utilization and other + data) to the increase in the minimum + rebate percentage effected by the + amendments made by subsections (a)(1), + (b), and (d) of section 2501 of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act, taking into account the additional + drugs included under the amendments made + by subsection (c) of section 2501 of + such Act. + <> The Secretary shall + adjust such payment reduction for a calendar + quarter to the extent the Secretary determines, + based upon subsequent utilization and other data, + that the reduction for such quarter was greater or + less than the amount of payment reduction that + should have been made. + ``(ii) Manner of payment reduction.--The + amount of the payment reduction under clause (i) + for a State for a quarter shall be deemed an + overpayment to the State under this title to be + disallowed against the State's regular quarterly + draw for all Medicaid spending under section + 1903(d)(2). Such a disallowance is not subject to + a reconsideration under section 1116(d).''. + + (b) Increase in Rebate for Other Drugs.--Section 1927(c)(3)(B) of +such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8(c)(3)(B)) is amended-- + (1) in clause (i), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) in clause (ii)-- + (A) by inserting ``and before January 1, 2010,'' + after ``December 31, 1993,''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 308]] + + (B) by striking the period and inserting ``; and''; + and + (3) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(iii) after December 31, 2009, is 13 + percent.''. + + (c) Extension of Prescription Drug Discounts to Enrollees of +Medicaid Managed Care Organizations.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1903(m)(2)(A) of such Act (42 + U.S.C. 1396b(m)(2)(A)) is amended-- + (A) in clause (xi), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (B) in clause (xii), by striking the period at the + end and inserting ``; and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(xiii) <> such contract provides that (I) covered + outpatient drugs dispensed to individuals eligible + for medical assistance who are enrolled with the + entity shall be subject to the same rebate + required by the agreement entered into under + section 1927 as the State is subject to and that + the State shall collect such rebates from + manufacturers, (II) capitation rates paid to the + entity shall be based on actual cost experience + related to rebates and subject to the Federal + regulations requiring actuarially sound rates, and + (III) the entity shall report to the State, on + such timely and periodic basis as specified by the + Secretary in order to include in the information + submitted by the State to a manufacturer and the + Secretary under section 1927(b)(2)(A), information + on the total number of units of each dosage form + and strength and package size by National Drug + Code of each covered outpatient drug dispensed to + individuals eligible for medical assistance who + are enrolled with the entity and for which the + entity is responsible for coverage of such drug + under this subsection (other than covered + outpatient drugs that under subsection (j)(1) of + section 1927 are not subject to the requirements + of that section) and such other data as the + Secretary determines necessary to carry out this + subsection.''. + (2) Conforming amendments.--Section 1927 (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8) + is amended-- + (A) in subsection (b)-- + (i) in paragraph (1)(A), in the first + sentence, by inserting ``, including such drugs + dispensed to individuals enrolled with a medicaid + managed care organization if the organization is + responsible for coverage of such drugs'' before + the period; and + (ii) in paragraph (2)(A), by inserting + ``including such information reported by each + medicaid managed care organization,'' after ``for + which payment was made under the plan during the + period,''; and + (B) in subsection (j), by striking paragraph (1) and + inserting the following: + ``(1) Covered outpatient drugs are not subject to the + requirements of this section if such drugs are-- + ``(A) dispensed by health maintenance organizations, + including Medicaid managed care organizations that + contract under section 1903(m); and + ``(B) subject to discounts under section 340B of the + Public Health Service Act.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 309]] + + (d) Additional Rebate for New Formulations of Existing Drugs.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1927(c)(2) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8(c)(2)) is amended by adding at the end + the following new subparagraph: + ``(C) Treatment of new formulations.-- + ``(i) In general.--Except as provided in + clause (ii), in the case of a drug that is a new + formulation, such as an extended-release + formulation, of a single source drug or an + innovator multiple source drug, the rebate + obligation with respect to the drug under this + section shall be the amount computed under this + section for the new formulation of the drug or, if + greater, the product of-- + ``(I) the average manufacturer price + for each dosage form and strength of the + new formulation of the single source + drug or innovator multiple source drug; + ``(II) the highest additional rebate + (calculated as a percentage of average + manufacturer price) under this section + for any strength of the original single + source drug or innovator multiple source + drug; and + ``(III) the total number of units of + each dosage form and strength of the new + formulation paid for under the State + plan in the rebate period (as reported + by the State). + ``(ii) No application to new formulations of + orphan drugs.--Clause (i) shall not apply to a new + formulation of a covered outpatient drug that is + or has been designated under section 526 of the + Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. + 360bb) for a rare disease or condition, without + regard to whether the period of market exclusivity + for the drug under section 527 of such Act has + expired or the specific indication for use of the + drug.''. + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendment made by paragraph (1) shall apply to drugs that are + paid for by a State after December 31, 2009. + + (e) Maximum Rebate Amount.--Section 1927(c)(2) of such Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396r-8(c)(2)), as amended by subsection (d), is amended by +adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(D) Maximum rebate amount.--In no case shall the + sum of the amounts applied under paragraph (1)(A)(ii) + and this paragraph with respect to each dosage form and + strength of a single source drug or an innovator + multiple source drug for a rebate period beginning after + December 31, 2009, exceed 100 percent of the average + manufacturer price of the drug.''. + + (f) Conforming Amendments.-- + (1) In general.--Section 340B of the Public Health Service + Act (42 U.S.C. 256b) is amended-- + (A) in subsection (a)(2)(B)(i), by striking + ``1927(c)(4)'' and inserting ``1927(c)(3)''; and + (B) by striking subsection (c); and + (C) redesignating subsection (d) as subsection (c). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 310]] + + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendments made by this subsection take effect on January 1, + 2010. + +SEC. 2502. ELIMINATION OF EXCLUSION OF COVERAGE OF CERTAIN DRUGS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1927(d) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1397r-8(d)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (2)-- + (A) by striking subparagraphs (E), (I), and (J), + respectively; and + (B) by redesignating subparagraphs (F), (G), (H), + and (K) as subparagraphs (E), (F), (G), and (H), + respectively; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(7) Non-excludable drugs.--The following drugs or classes + of drugs, or their medical uses, shall not be excluded from + coverage: + ``(A) Agents when used to promote smoking cessation, + including agents approved by the Food and Drug + Administration under the over-the-counter monograph + process for purposes of promoting, and when used to + promote, tobacco cessation. + ``(B) Barbiturates. + ``(C) Benzodiazepines.''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to services furnished on or after +January 1, 2014. + +SEC. 2503. PROVIDING ADEQUATE PHARMACY REIMBURSEMENT. + + (a) Pharmacy Reimbursement Limits.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1927(e) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8(e)) is amended-- + (A) in paragraph (4), by striking ``(or, effective + January 1, 2007, two or more)''; and + (B) by striking paragraph (5) and inserting the + following: + ``(5) Use of amp in upper payment limits.--The Secretary + shall calculate the Federal upper reimbursement limit + established under paragraph (4) as no less than 175 percent of + the weighted average (determined on the basis of utilization) of + the most recently reported monthly average manufacturer prices + for pharmaceutically and therapeutically equivalent multiple + source drug products that are available for purchase by retail + community pharmacies on a nationwide basis. The Secretary shall + implement a smoothing process for average manufacturer prices. + Such process shall be similar to the smoothing process used in + determining the average sales price of a drug or biological + under section 1847A.''. + (2) Definition of amp.--Section 1927(k)(1) of such Act (42 + U.S.C. 1396r-8(k)(1)) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``by'' and all + that follows through the period and inserting ``by-- + ``(i) wholesalers for drugs distributed to + retail community pharmacies; and + ``(ii) retail community pharmacies that + purchase drugs directly from the manufacturer.''; + and + (B) by striking subparagraph (B) and inserting the + following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 311]] + + ``(B) Exclusion of customary prompt pay discounts + and other payments.-- + ``(i) In general.--The average manufacturer + price for a covered outpatient drug shall + exclude-- + ``(I) customary prompt pay discounts + extended to wholesalers; + ``(II) bona fide service fees paid + by manufacturers to wholesalers or + retail community pharmacies, including + (but not limited to) distribution + service fees, inventory management fees, + product stocking allowances, and fees + associated with administrative services + agreements and patient care programs + (such as medication compliance programs + and patient education programs); + ``(III) reimbursement by + manufacturers for recalled, damaged, + expired, or otherwise unsalable returned + goods, including (but not limited to) + reimbursement for the cost of the goods + and any reimbursement of costs + associated with return goods handling + and processing, reverse logistics, and + drug destruction; and + ``(IV) payments received from, and + rebates or discounts provided to, + pharmacy benefit managers, managed care + organizations, health maintenance + organizations, insurers, hospitals, + clinics, mail order pharmacies, long + term care providers, manufacturers, or + any other entity that does not conduct + business as a wholesaler or a retail + community pharmacy. + ``(ii) Inclusion of other discounts and + payments.--Notwithstanding clause (i), any other + discounts, rebates, payments, or other financial + transactions that are received by, paid by, or + passed through to, retail community pharmacies + shall be included in the average manufacturer + price for a covered outpatient drug.''; and + (C) in subparagraph (C), by striking ``the retail + pharmacy class of trade'' and inserting ``retail + community pharmacies''. + (3) Definition of multiple source drug.--Section 1927(k)(7) + of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8(k)(7)) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (A)(i)(III), by striking ``the + State'' and inserting ``the United States''; and + (B) in subparagraph (C)-- + (i) in clause (i), by inserting ``and'' after + the semicolon; + (ii) in clause (ii), by striking ``; and'' and + inserting a period; and + (iii) by striking clause (iii). + (4) Definitions of retail community pharmacy; wholesaler.-- + Section 1927(k) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8(k)) is amended by + adding at the end the following new paragraphs: + ``(10) Retail community pharmacy.--The term `retail + community pharmacy' means an independent pharmacy, a chain + pharmacy, a supermarket pharmacy, or a mass merchandiser + pharmacy that is licensed as a pharmacy by the State and that + dispenses medications to the general public at retail + +[[Page 124 STAT. 312]] + + prices. Such term does not include a pharmacy that dispenses + prescription medications to patients primarily through the mail, + nursing home pharmacies, long-term care facility pharmacies, + hospital pharmacies, clinics, charitable or not-for-profit + pharmacies, government pharmacies, or pharmacy benefit managers. + ``(11) Wholesaler.--The term `wholesaler' means a drug + wholesaler that is engaged in wholesale distribution of + prescription drugs to retail community pharmacies, including + (but not limited to) manufacturers, repackers, distributors, + own-label distributors, private-label distributors, jobbers, + brokers, warehouses (including manufacturer's and distributor's + warehouses, chain drug warehouses, and wholesale drug + warehouses) independent wholesale drug traders, and retail + community pharmacies that conduct wholesale distributions.''. + + (b) Disclosure of Price Information to the Public.--Section +1927(b)(3) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8(b)(3)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A)-- + (A) in the first sentence, by inserting after clause + (iii) the following: + ``(iv) not later than 30 days after the last + day of each month of a rebate period under the + agreement, on the manufacturer's total number of + units that are used to calculate the monthly + average manufacturer price for each covered + outpatient drug;''; and + (B) in the second sentence, by inserting ``(relating + to the weighted average of the most recently reported + monthly average manufacturer prices)'' after ``(D)(v)''; + and + (2) in subparagraph (D)(v), by striking ``average + manufacturer prices'' and inserting ``the weighted average of + the most recently reported monthly average manufacturer prices + and the average retail survey price determined for each multiple + source drug in accordance with subsection (f)''. + + (c) Clarification of Application of Survey of Retail Prices.-- +Section 1927(f)(1) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8(b)(1)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A)(i), by inserting ``with respect to a + retail community pharmacy,'' before ``the determination''; and + (2) in subparagraph (C)(ii), by striking ``retail + pharmacies'' and inserting ``retail community pharmacies''. + + (d) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall take effect on the first day of the first +calendar year quarter that begins at least 180 days after the date of +enactment of this Act, without regard to whether or not final +regulations to carry out such amendments have been promulgated by such +date. + + Subtitle G--Medicaid Disproportionate Share Hospital (DSH) Payments + +SEC. 2551. DISPROPORTIONATE SHARE HOSPITAL PAYMENTS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1923(f) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396r-4(f)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1), by striking ``and (3)'' and inserting + ``, (3), and (7)''; + (2) in paragraph (3)(A), by striking ``paragraph (6)'' and + inserting ``paragraphs (6) and (7)''; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 313]] + + (3) by redesignating paragraph (7) as paragraph (8); and + (4) by inserting after paragraph (6) the following new + paragraph: + ``(7) Reduction of state dsh allotments once reduction in + uninsured threshold reached.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (E), the + DSH allotment for a State for fiscal years beginning + with the fiscal year described in subparagraph (C) (with + respect to the State), is equal to-- + ``(i) in the case of the first fiscal year + described in subparagraph (C) with respect to a + State, the DSH allotment that would be determined + under this subsection for the State for the fiscal + year without application of this paragraph (but + after the application of subparagraph (D)), + reduced by the applicable percentage determined + for the State for the fiscal year under + subparagraph (B)(i); and + ``(ii) in the case of any subsequent fiscal + year with respect to the State, the DSH allotment + determined under this paragraph for the State for + the preceding fiscal year, reduced by the + applicable percentage determined for the State for + the fiscal year under subparagraph (B)(ii). + ``(B) Applicable percentage.--For purposes of + subparagraph (A), the applicable percentage for a State + for a fiscal year is the following: + ``(i) Uninsured reduction threshold fiscal + year.--In the case of the first fiscal year + described in subparagraph (C) with respect to the + State-- + ``(I) if the State is a low DSH + State described in paragraph (5)(B), the + applicable percentage is equal to 25 + percent; and + ``(II) if the State is any other + State, the applicable percentage is 50 + percent. + ``(ii) Subsequent fiscal years in which the + percentage of uninsured + decreases <> .--In the case + of any fiscal year after the first fiscal year + described in subparagraph (C) with respect to a + State, if the Secretary determines on the basis of + the most recent American Community Survey of the + Bureau of the Census, that the percentage of + uncovered individuals residing in the State is + less than the percentage of such individuals + determined for the State for the preceding fiscal + year-- + ``(I) if the State is a low DSH + State described in paragraph (5)(B), the + applicable percentage is equal to the + product of the percentage reduction in + uncovered individuals for the fiscal + year from the preceding fiscal year and + 25 percent; and + ``(II) if the State is any other + State, the applicable percentage is + equal to the product of the percentage + reduction in uncovered individuals for + the fiscal year from the preceding + fiscal year and 50 percent. + ``(C) Fiscal year + described. <> --For purposes of + subparagraph (A), the fiscal year described in this + subparagraph with respect to a State is the first fiscal + year that + +[[Page 124 STAT. 314]] + + occurs after fiscal year 2012 for which the Secretary + determines, on the basis of the most recent American + Community Survey of the Bureau of the Census, that the + percentage of uncovered individuals residing in the + State is at least 45 percent less than the percentage of + such individuals determined for the State for fiscal + year 2009. + ``(D) Exclusion of portions diverted for coverage + expansions.--For purposes of applying the applicable + percentage reduction under subparagraph (A) to the DSH + allotment for a State for a fiscal year, the DSH + allotment for a State that would be determined under + this subsection for the State for the fiscal year + without the application of this paragraph (and prior to + any such reduction) shall not include any portion of the + allotment for which the Secretary has approved the + State's diversion to the costs of providing medical + assistance or other health benefits coverage under a + waiver that is in effect on July 2009. + ``(E) Minimum allotment.--In no event shall the DSH + allotment determined for a State in accordance with this + paragraph for fiscal year 2013 or any succeeding fiscal + year be less than the amount equal to 35 percent of the + DSH allotment determined for the State for fiscal year + 2012 under this subsection (and after the application of + this paragraph, if applicable), increased by the + percentage change in the consumer price index for all + urban consumers (all items, U.S. city average) for each + previous fiscal year occurring before the fiscal year. + ``(F) Uncovered + individuals. <> --In this paragraph, + the term `uncovered individuals' means individuals with + no health insurance coverage at any time during a year + (as determined by the Secretary based on the most recent + data available).''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by subsection (a) take effect on October 1, 2011. + + Subtitle H--Improved Coordination for Dual Eligible Beneficiaries + +SEC. 2601. 5-YEAR PERIOD FOR DEMONSTRATION PROJECTS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1915(h) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396n(h)) is amended-- + (1) by inserting ``(1)'' after ``(h)''; + (2) by inserting ``, or a waiver described in paragraph + (2)'' after ``(e)''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + + ``(2)(A) <> Notwithstanding subsections +(c)(3) and (d) (3), any waiver under subsection (b), (c), or (d), or a +waiver under section 1115, that provides medical assistance for dual +eligible individuals (including any such waivers under which non dual +eligible individuals may be enrolled in addition to dual eligible +individuals) may be conducted for a period of 5 years and, upon the +request of the State, may be extended for additional 5-year periods +unless the Secretary determines that for the previous waiver period the +conditions for the waiver have not been met or it would no longer be +cost-effective and efficient, or consistent with the purposes of this +title, to extend the waiver. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 315]] + + ``(B) <> In this paragraph, the term `dual +eligible individual' means an individual who is entitled to, or enrolled +for, benefits under part A of title XVIII, or enrolled for benefits +under part B of title XVIII, and is eligible for medical assistance +under the State plan under this title or under a waiver of such plan.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendments.-- + (1) Section 1915 of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396n) is amended-- + (A) in subsection (b), by adding at the end the + following new sentence: ``Subsection (h)(2) shall apply + to a waiver under this subsection.''; + (B) in subsection (c)(3), in the second sentence, by + inserting ``(other than a waiver described in subsection + (h)(2))'' after ``A waiver under this subsection''; + (C) in subsection (d)(3), in the second sentence, by + inserting ``(other than a waiver described in subsection + (h)(2))'' after ``A waiver under this subsection''. + (2) Section 1115 of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1315) is amended-- + (A) in subsection (e)(2), by inserting ``(5 years, + in the case of a waiver described in section + 1915(h)(2))'' after ``3 years''; and + (B) in subsection (f)(6), by inserting ``(5 years, + in the case of a waiver described in section + 1915(h)(2))'' after ``3 years''. + +SEC. 2602. <> PROVIDING FEDERAL COVERAGE AND + PAYMENT COORDINATION FOR DUAL ELIGIBLE BENEFICIARIES. + + (a) Establishment of Federal Coordinated Health Care Office.-- + (1) In general.-- <> Not later than March + 1, 2010, the Secretary of Health and Human Services (in this + section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall establish a + Federal Coordinated Health Care Office. + (2) Establishment and reporting to cms administrator.--The + Federal Coordinated Health Care Office-- + (A) shall be established within the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services; and + (B) <> have as the Office a + Director who shall be appointed by, and be in direct + line of authority to, the Administrator of the Centers + for Medicare & Medicaid Services. + + (b) Purpose.--The purpose of the Federal Coordinated Health Care +Office is to bring together officers and employees of the Medicare and +Medicaid programs at the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services in +order to-- + (1) more effectively integrate benefits under the Medicare + program under title XVIII of the Social Security Act and the + Medicaid program under title XIX of such Act; and + (2) improve the coordination between the Federal Government + and States for individuals eligible for benefits under both such + programs in order to ensure that such individuals get full + access to the items and services to which they are entitled + under titles XVIII and XIX of the Social Security Act. + + (c) Goals.--The goals of the Federal Coordinated Health Care Office +are as follows: + (1) Providing dual eligible individuals full access to the + benefits to which such individuals are entitled under the + Medicare and Medicaid programs. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 316]] + + (2) Simplifying the processes for dual eligible individuals + to access the items and services they are entitled to under the + Medicare and Medicaid programs. + (3) Improving the quality of health care and long-term + services for dual eligible individuals. + (4) Increasing dual eligible individuals' understanding of + and satisfaction with coverage under the Medicare and Medicaid + programs. + (5) Eliminating regulatory conflicts between rules under the + Medicare and Medicaid programs. + (6) Improving care continuity and ensuring safe and + effective care transitions for dual eligible individuals. + (7) Eliminating cost-shifting between the Medicare and + Medicaid program and among related health care providers. + (8) Improving the quality of performance of providers of + services and suppliers under the Medicare and Medicaid programs. + + (d) Specific Responsibilities.--The specific responsibilities of the +Federal Coordinated Health Care Office are as follows: + (1) Providing States, specialized MA plans for special needs + individuals (as defined in section 1859(b)(6) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-28(b)(6))), physicians and other + relevant entities or individuals with the education and tools + necessary for developing programs that align benefits under the + Medicare and Medicaid programs for dual eligible individuals. + (2) Supporting State efforts to coordinate and align acute + care and long-term care services for dual eligible individuals + with other items and services furnished under the Medicare + program. + (3) Providing support for coordination of contracting and + oversight by States and the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid + Services with respect to the integration of the Medicare and + Medicaid programs in a manner that is supportive of the goals + described in paragraph (3). + (4) To consult and coordinate with the Medicare Payment + Advisory Commission established under section 1805 of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395b-6) and the Medicaid and CHIP + Payment and Access Commission established under section 1900 of + such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396) with respect to policies relating to + the enrollment in, and provision of, benefits to dual eligible + individuals under the Medicare program under title XVIII of the + Social Security Act and the Medicaid program under title XIX of + such Act. + (5) To study the provision of drug coverage for new full- + benefit dual eligible individuals (as defined in section + 1935(c)(6) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396u-5(c)(6)), + as well as to monitor and report annual total expenditures, + health outcomes, and access to benefits for all dual eligible + individuals. + + (e) Report.--The Secretary shall, as part of the budget transmitted +under section 1105(a) of title 31, United States Code, submit to +Congress an annual report containing recommendations for legislation +that would improve care coordination and benefits for dual eligible +individuals. + (f) Dual Eligible Defined.--In this section, the term ``dual +eligible individual'' means an individual who is entitled to, or +enrolled for, benefits under part A of title XVIII of the Social +Security Act, or enrolled for benefits under part B of title XVIII + +[[Page 124 STAT. 317]] + +of such Act, and is eligible for medical assistance under a State plan +under title XIX of such Act or under a waiver of such plan. + +Subtitle I--Improving the Quality of Medicaid for Patients and Providers + +SEC. 2701. ADULT HEALTH QUALITY MEASURES. + + Title XI of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1301 et seq.), as +amended by section 401 of the Children's Health Insurance Program +Reauthorization Act of 2009 (Public Law 111-3), is amended by inserting +after section 1139A the following new section: + +``SEC. 1139B. <> ADULT HEALTH QUALITY MEASURES. + + ``(a) Development of Core Set of Health Care Quality Measures for +Adults Eligible for Benefits Under Medicaid.-- +The <> Secretary shall identify and publish a +recommended core set of adult health quality measures for Medicaid +eligible adults in the same manner as the Secretary identifies and +publishes a core set of child health quality measures under section +1139A, including with respect to identifying and publishing existing +adult health quality measures that are in use under public and privately +sponsored health care coverage arrangements, or that are part of +reporting systems that measure both the presence and duration of health +insurance coverage over time, that may be applicable to Medicaid +eligible adults. + + ``(b) Deadlines.-- + ``(1) Recommended measures.-- <> Not + later than January 1, 2011, the Secretary shall identify and + publish for comment a recommended core set of adult health + quality measures for Medicaid eligible adults. + ``(2) Dissemination.-- <> Not later than + January 1, 2012, the Secretary shall publish an initial core set + of adult health quality measures that are applicable to Medicaid + eligible adults. + ``(3) Standardized reporting.--Not later than January 1, + 2013, the Secretary, in consultation with States, shall develop + a standardized format for reporting information based on the + initial core set of adult health quality measures and create + procedures to encourage States to use such measures to + voluntarily report information regarding the quality of health + care for Medicaid eligible adults. + ``(4) Reports to congress.--Not later than January 1, 2014, + and every 3 years thereafter, the Secretary shall include in the + report to Congress required under section 1139A(a)(6) + information similar to the information required under that + section with respect to the measures established under this + section. + ``(5) Establishment of medicaid quality measurement + program.-- + ``(A) In general.--Not later than 12 months after + the release of the recommended core set of adult health + quality measures under paragraph (1)), the Secretary + shall establish a Medicaid Quality Measurement Program + in the same manner as the Secretary establishes the + pediatric quality measures program under section + 1139A(b). The aggregate amount awarded by the Secretary + for grants and contracts for the development, testing, + and validation of emerging + +[[Page 124 STAT. 318]] + + and innovative evidence-based measures under such + program shall equal the aggregate amount awarded by the + Secretary for grants under section 1139A(b)(4)(A) + ``(B) Revising, strengthening, and improving initial + core measures. <> --Beginning not + later than 24 months after the establishment of the + Medicaid Quality Measurement Program, and annually + thereafter, the Secretary shall publish recommended + changes to the initial core set of adult health quality + measures that shall reflect the results of the testing, + validation, and consensus process for the development of + adult health quality measures. + + ``(c) Construction.--Nothing in this section shall be construed as +supporting the restriction of coverage, under title XIX or XXI or +otherwise, to only those services that are evidence-based, or in anyway +limiting available services. + ``(d) Annual State Reports Regarding State-Specific Quality of Care +Measures Applied Under Medicaid.-- + ``(1) Annual state reports.--Each State with a State plan or + waiver approved under title XIX shall annually report + (separately or as part of the annual report required under + section 1139A(c)), to the Secretary on the-- + ``(A) State-specific adult health quality measures + applied by the State under the such plan, including + measures described in subsection (a)(5); and + ``(B) State-specific information on the quality of + health care furnished to Medicaid eligible adults under + such plan, including information collected through + external quality reviews of managed care organizations + under section 1932 and benchmark plans under section + 1937. + ``(2) Publication.-- <> Not later than September 30, 2014, and annually + thereafter, the Secretary shall collect, analyze, and make + publicly available the information reported by States under + paragraph (1). + + ``(e) Appropriation.--Out of any funds in the Treasury not otherwise +appropriated, there is appropriated for each of fiscal years 2010 +through 2014, $60,000,000 for the purpose of carrying out this section. +Funds appropriated under this subsection shall remain available until +expended.''. + +SEC. 2702. <> PAYMENT ADJUSTMENT FOR HEALTH + CARE-ACQUIRED CONDITIONS. + + (a) In General. <> --The Secretary of Health and Human Services (in this subsection +referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall identify current State practices +that prohibit payment for health care-acquired conditions and shall +incorporate the practices identified, or elements of such practices, +which the Secretary determines appropriate for application to the +Medicaid program in regulations. Such regulations shall be effective as +of July 1, 2011, and shall prohibit payments to States under section +1903 of the Social Security Act for any amounts expended for providing +medical assistance for health care-acquired conditions specified in the +regulations. The regulations shall ensure that the prohibition on +payment for health care-acquired conditions shall not result in a loss +of access to care or services for Medicaid beneficiaries. + +Effective +date. + + (b) Health Care-Acquired Condition. <> --In this +section. the term ``health care-acquired condition'' means a medical +condition for which an individual was diagnosed that could be identified + +[[Page 124 STAT. 319]] + +by a secondary diagnostic code described in section 1886(d)(4)(D)(iv) of +the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(4)(D)(iv)). + + (c) <> Medicare Provisions.--In carrying out +this section, the Secretary shall apply to State plans (or waivers) +under title XIX of the Social Security Act the regulations promulgated +pursuant to section 1886(d)(4)(D) of such Act (42 U.S.C. +1395ww(d)(4)(D)) relating to the prohibition of payments based on the +presence of a secondary diagnosis code specified by the Secretary in +such regulations, as appropriate for the Medicaid program. The Secretary +may exclude certain conditions identified under title XVIII of the +Social Security Act for non-payment under title XIX of such Act when the +Secretary finds the inclusion of such conditions to be inapplicable to +beneficiaries under title XIX. + +SEC. 2703. STATE OPTION TO PROVIDE HEALTH HOMES FOR ENROLLEES WITH + CHRONIC CONDITIONS. + + (a) State Plan Amendment.--Title XIX of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396a et seq.), as amended by sections 2201 and 2305, is amended +by adding at the end the following new section: + ``Sec. 1945. <> State Option To Provide +Coordinated Care Through a Health Home for Individuals With Chronic +Conditions.-- + + ``(a) <> In General.-- +Notwithstanding section 1902(a)(1) (relating to statewideness), section +1902(a)(10)(B) (relating to comparability), and any other provision of +this title for which the Secretary determines it is necessary to waive +in order to implement this section, beginning January 1, 2011, a State, +at its option as a State plan amendment, may provide for medical +assistance under this title to eligible individuals with chronic +conditions who select a designated provider (as described under +subsection (h)(5)), a team of health care professionals (as described +under subsection (h)(6)) operating with such a provider, or a health +team (as described under subsection (h)(7)) as the individual's health +home for purposes of providing the individual with health home services. + + ``(b) Health Home Qualification Standards.--The Secretary shall +establish standards for qualification as a designated provider for the +purpose of being eligible to be a health home for purposes of this +section. + ``(c) Payments.-- + ``(1) In general.--A State shall provide a designated + provider, a team of health care professionals operating with + such a provider, or a health team with payments for the + provision of health home services to each eligible individual + with chronic conditions that selects such provider, team of + health care professionals, or health team as the individual's + health home. Payments made to a designated provider, a team of + health care professionals operating with such a provider, or a + health team for such services shall be treated as medical + assistance for purposes of section 1903(a), except that, during + the first 8 fiscal year quarters that the State plan amendment + is in effect, the Federal medical assistance percentage + applicable to such payments shall be equal to 90 percent. + ``(2) Methodology.-- + ``(A) In general.--The State shall specify in the + State plan amendment the methodology the State will use + for determining payment for the provision of health home + services. Such methodology for determining payment-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 320]] + + ``(i) may be tiered to reflect, with respect + to each eligible individual with chronic + conditions provided such services by a designated + provider, a team of health care professionals + operating with such a provider, or a health team, + as well as the severity or number of each such + individual's chronic conditions or the specific + capabilities of the provider, team of health care + professionals, or health team; and + ``(ii) shall be established consistent with + section 1902(a)(30)(A). + ``(B) Alternate models of payment.--The methodology + for determining payment for provision of health home + services under this section shall not be limited to a + per-member per-month basis and may provide (as proposed + by the State and subject to approval by the Secretary) + for alternate models of payment. + ``(3) Planning grants.-- + ``(A) <> In general.-- + Beginning January 1, 2011, the Secretary may award + planning grants to States for purposes of developing a + State plan amendment under this section. A planning + grant awarded to a State under this paragraph shall + remain available until expended. + ``(B) State contribution.--A State awarded a + planning grant shall contribute an amount equal to the + State percentage determined under section 1905(b) + (without regard to section 5001 of Public Law 111-5) for + each fiscal year for which the grant is awarded. + ``(C) Limitation.--The total amount of payments made + to States under this paragraph shall not exceed + $25,000,000. + + ``(d) Hospital Referrals.--A State shall include in the State plan +amendment a requirement for hospitals that are participating providers +under the State plan or a waiver of such plan to establish procedures +for referring any eligible individuals with chronic conditions who seek +or need treatment in a hospital emergency department to designated +providers. + ``(e) Coordination.--A State shall consult and coordinate, as +appropriate, with the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services +Administration in addressing issues regarding the prevention and +treatment of mental illness and substance abuse among eligible +individuals with chronic conditions. + ``(f) Monitoring.--A State shall include in the State plan +amendment-- + ``(1) a methodology for tracking avoidable hospital + readmissions and calculating savings that result from improved + chronic care coordination and management under this section; and + ``(2) a proposal for use of health information technology in + providing health home services under this section and improving + service delivery and coordination across the care continuum + (including the use of wireless patient technology to improve + coordination and management of care and patient adherence to + recommendations made by their provider). + + ``(g) Report on Quality Measures.--As a condition for receiving +payment for health home services provided to an eligible individual with +chronic conditions, a designated provider shall report to the State, in +accordance with such requirements as the Secretary shall specify, on all +applicable measures for determining + +[[Page 124 STAT. 321]] + +the quality of such services. When appropriate and feasible, a +designated provider shall use health information technology in providing +the State with such information. + ``(h) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Eligible individual with chronic conditions.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), the + term `eligible individual with chronic conditions' means + an individual who-- + ``(i) is eligible for medical assistance under + the State plan or under a waiver of such plan; and + ``(ii) has at least-- + ``(I) 2 chronic conditions; + ``(II) 1 chronic condition and is at + risk of having a second chronic + condition; or + ``(III) 1 serious and persistent + mental health condition. + ``(B) Rule of construction.--Nothing in this + paragraph shall prevent the Secretary from establishing + higher levels as to the number or severity of chronic or + mental health conditions for purposes of determining + eligibility for receipt of health home services under + this section. + ``(2) Chronic condition.--The term `chronic condition' has + the meaning given that term by the Secretary and shall include, + but is not limited to, the following: + ``(A) A mental health condition. + ``(B) Substance use disorder. + ``(C) Asthma. + ``(D) Diabetes. + ``(E) Heart disease. + ``(F) Being overweight, as evidenced by having a + Body Mass Index (BMI) over 25. + ``(3) Health home.--The term `health home' means a + designated provider (including a provider that operates in + coordination with a team of health care professionals) or a + health team selected by an eligible individual with chronic + conditions to provide health home services. + ``(4) Health home services.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `health home services' + means comprehensive and timely high-quality services + described in subparagraph (B) that are provided by a + designated provider, a team of health care professionals + operating with such a provider, or a health team. + ``(B) Services described.--The services described in + this subparagraph are-- + ``(i) comprehensive care management; + ``(ii) care coordination and health promotion; + ``(iii) comprehensive transitional care, + including appropriate follow-up, from inpatient to + other settings; + ``(iv) patient and family support (including + authorized representatives); + ``(v) referral to community and social support + services, if relevant; and + ``(vi) use of health information technology to + link services, as feasible and appropriate. + ``(5) Designated provider.--The term `designated provider' + means a physician, clinical practice or clinical group practice, + rural clinic, community health center, community mental health + +[[Page 124 STAT. 322]] + + center, home health agency, or any other entity or provider + (including pediatricians, gynecologists, and obstetricians) that + is determined by the State and approved by the Secretary to be + qualified to be a health home for eligible individuals with + chronic conditions on the basis of documentation evidencing that + the physician, practice, or clinic-- + ``(A) has the systems and infrastructure in place to + provide health home services; and + ``(B) satisfies the qualification standards + established by the Secretary under subsection (b). + ``(6) Team of health care professionals.--The term `team of + health care professionals' means a team of health professionals + (as described in the State plan amendment) that may-- + ``(A) include physicians and other professionals, + such as a nurse care coordinator, nutritionist, social + worker, behavioral health professional, or any + professionals deemed appropriate by the State; and + ``(B) be free standing, virtual, or based at a + hospital, community health center, community mental + health center, rural clinic, clinical practice or + clinical group practice, academic health center, or any + entity deemed appropriate by the State and approved by + the Secretary. + ``(7) Health team.--The term `health team' has the meaning + given such term for purposes of section 3502 of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act.''. + + (b) Evaluation.-- + (1) Independent evaluation.-- + (A) In general.-- <> The Secretary + shall enter into a contract with an independent entity + or organization to conduct an evaluation and assessment + of the States that have elected the option to provide + coordinated care through a health home for Medicaid + beneficiaries with chronic conditions under section 1945 + of the Social Security Act (as added by subsection (a)) + for the purpose of determining the effect of such option + on reducing hospital admissions, emergency room visits, + and admissions to skilled nursing facilities. + (B) Evaluation report.--Not later than January 1, + 2017, the Secretary shall report to Congress on the + evaluation and assessment conducted under subparagraph + (A). + (2) <> Survey and interim + report.-- + (A) In general.--Not later than January 1, 2014, the + Secretary of Health and Human Services shall survey + States that have elected the option under section 1945 + of the Social Security Act (as added by subsection (a)) + and report to Congress on the nature, extent, and use of + such option, particularly as it pertains to-- + (i) hospital admission rates; + (ii) chronic disease management; + (iii) coordination of care for individuals + with chronic conditions; + (iv) assessment of program implementation; + (v) processes and lessons learned (as + described in subparagraph (B)); + (vi) assessment of quality improvements and + clinical outcomes under such option; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 323]] + + (vii) estimates of cost savings. + (B) Implementation reporting.--A State that has + elected the option under section 1945 of the Social + Security Act (as added by subsection (a)) shall report + to the Secretary, as necessary, on processes that have + been developed and lessons learned regarding provision + of coordinated care through a health home for Medicaid + beneficiaries with chronic conditions under such option. + +SEC. 2704. <> DEMONSTRATION PROJECT TO + EVALUATE INTEGRATED CARE AROUND A HOSPITALIZATION. + + (a) Authority To Conduct Project.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall + establish a demonstration project under title XIX of the Social + Security Act to evaluate the use of bundled payments for the + provision of integrated care for a Medicaid beneficiary-- + (A) with respect to an episode of care that includes + a hospitalization; and + (B) for concurrent physicians services provided + during a hospitalization. + (2) Duration.--The demonstration project shall begin on + January 1, 2012, and shall end on December 31, 2016. + + (b) Requirements.--The demonstration project shall be conducted in +accordance with the following: + (1) <> The demonstration project + shall be conducted in up to 8 States, determined by the + Secretary based on consideration of the potential to lower costs + under the Medicaid program while improving care for Medicaid + beneficiaries. A State selected to participate in the + demonstration project may target the demonstration project to + particular categories of beneficiaries, beneficiaries with + particular diagnoses, or particular geographic regions of the + State, but the Secretary shall insure that, as a whole, the + demonstration project is, to the greatest extent possible, + representative of the demographic and geographic composition of + Medicaid beneficiaries nationally. + (2) The demonstration project shall focus on conditions + where there is evidence of an opportunity for providers of + services and suppliers to improve the quality of care furnished + to Medicaid beneficiaries while reducing total expenditures + under the State Medicaid programs selected to participate, as + determined by the Secretary. + (3) A State selected to participate in the demonstration + project shall specify the 1 or more episodes of care the State + proposes to address in the project, the services to be included + in the bundled payments, and the rationale for the selection of + such episodes of care and services. The Secretary may modify the + episodes of care as well as the services to be included in the + bundled payments prior to or after approving the project. The + Secretary may also vary such factors among the different States + participating in the demonstration project. + (4) The Secretary shall ensure that payments made under the + demonstration project are adjusted for severity of illness and + other characteristics of Medicaid beneficiaries within a + category or having a diagnosis targeted as part of the + demonstration project. States shall ensure that Medicaid + beneficiaries are not liable for any additional cost sharing + than + +[[Page 124 STAT. 324]] + + if their care had not been subject to payment under the + demonstration project. + (5) Hospitals participating in the demonstration project + shall have or establish robust discharge planning programs to + ensure that Medicaid beneficiaries requiring post-acute care are + appropriately placed in, or have ready access to, post-acute + care settings. + (6) The Secretary and each State selected to participate in + the demonstration project shall ensure that the demonstration + project does not result in the Medicaid beneficiaries whose care + is subject to payment under the demonstration project being + provided with less items and services for which medical + assistance is provided under the State Medicaid program than the + items and services for which medical assistance would have been + provided to such beneficiaries under the State Medicaid program + in the absence of the demonstration project. + + (c) Waiver of Provisions.--Notwithstanding section 1115(a) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1315(a)), the Secretary may waive such +provisions of titles XIX, XVIII, and XI of that Act as may be necessary +to accomplish the goals of the demonstration, ensure beneficiary access +to acute and post-acute care, and maintain quality of care. + (d) Evaluation and Report.-- + (1) Data.--Each State selected to participate in the + demonstration project under this section shall provide to the + Secretary, in such form and manner as the Secretary shall + specify, relevant data necessary to monitor outcomes, costs, and + quality, and evaluate the rationales for selection of the + episodes of care and services specified by States under + subsection (b)(3). + (2) Report.--Not later than 1 year after the conclusion of + the demonstration project, the Secretary shall submit a report + to Congress on the results of the demonstration project. + +SEC. 2705. <> MEDICAID GLOBAL PAYMENT SYSTEM + DEMONSTRATION PROJECT. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services +(referred to in this section as the ``Secretary'') shall, in +coordination with the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Innovation (as +established under section 1115A of the Social Security Act, as added by +section 3021 of this Act), establish the Medicaid Global Payment System +Demonstration Project under which a participating State shall adjust the +payments made to an eligible safety net hospital system or network from +a fee-for-service payment structure to a global capitated payment model. + (b) Duration and Scope.--The demonstration project conducted under +this section shall operate during a period of fiscal years 2010 through +2012. <> The Secretary shall select not more than 5 +States to participate in the demonstration project. + + (c) Eligible Safety Net Hospital System or +Network. <> --For purposes of this section, the term +``eligible safety net hospital system or network'' means a large, safety +net hospital system or network (as defined by the Secretary) that +operates within a State selected by the Secretary under subsection (b). + + (d) Evaluation.-- + (1) Testing.--The Innovation Center shall test and evaluate + the demonstration project conducted under this section + +[[Page 124 STAT. 325]] + + to examine any changes in health care quality outcomes and + spending by the eligible safety net hospital systems or + networks. + (2) Budget neutrality.--During the testing period under + paragraph (1), any budget neutrality requirements under section + 1115A(b)(3) of the Social Security Act (as so added) shall not + be applicable. + (3) Modification.--During the testing period under paragraph + (1), the Secretary may, in the Secretary's discretion, modify or + terminate the demonstration project conducted under this + section. + + (e) Report.--Not later than 12 months after the date of completion +of the demonstration project under this section, the Secretary shall +submit to Congress a report containing the results of the evaluation and +testing conducted under subsection (d), together with recommendations +for such legislation and administrative action as the Secretary +determines appropriate. + (f) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated such sums as are necessary to carry out this section. + +SEC. 2706. <> PEDIATRIC ACCOUNTABLE CARE + ORGANIZATION DEMONSTRATION PROJECT. + + (a) Authority To Conduct Demonstration.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + (referred to in this section as the ``Secretary'') shall + establish the Pediatric Accountable Care Organization + Demonstration Project to authorize a participating State to + allow pediatric medical providers that meet specified + requirements to be recognized as an accountable care + organization for purposes of receiving incentive payments (as + described under subsection (d)), in the same manner as an + accountable care organization is recognized and provided with + incentive payments under section 1899 of the Social Security Act + (as added by section 3022). + (2) Duration.--The demonstration project shall begin on + January 1, 2012, and shall end on December 31, 2016. + + (b) Application.--A State that desires to participate in the +demonstration project under this section shall submit to the Secretary +an application at such time, in such manner, and containing such +information as the Secretary may require. + (c) Requirements.-- + (1) Performance guidelines.--The Secretary, in consultation + with the States and pediatric providers, shall establish + guidelines to ensure that the quality of care delivered to + individuals by a provider recognized as an accountable care + organization under this section is not less than the quality of + care that would have otherwise been provided to such + individuals. + (2) Savings requirement.--A participating State, in + consultation with the Secretary, shall establish an annual + minimal level of savings in expenditures for items and services + covered under the Medicaid program under title XIX of the Social + Security Act and the CHIP program under title XXI of such Act + that must be reached by an accountable care organization in + order for such organization to receive an incentive payment + under subsection (d). + (3) <> Minimum participation period.--A + provider desiring to be recognized as an accountable care + organization under + +[[Page 124 STAT. 326]] + + the demonstration project shall enter into an agreement with the + State to participate in the project for not less than a 3-year + period. + + (d) Incentive Payment.--An accountable care organization that meets +the performance guidelines established by the Secretary under subsection +(c)(1) and achieves savings greater than the annual minimal savings +level established by the State under subsection (c)(2) shall receive an +incentive payment for such year equal to a portion (as determined +appropriate by the Secretary) of the amount of such excess savings. The +Secretary may establish an annual cap on incentive payments for an +accountable care organization. + (e) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated such sums as are necessary to carry out this section. + +SEC. 2707. <> MEDICAID EMERGENCY PSYCHIATRIC + DEMONSTRATION PROJECT. + + (a) Authority To Conduct Demonstration Project.--The Secretary of +Health and Human Services (in this section referred to as the +``Secretary'') shall establish a demonstration project under which an +eligible State (as described in subsection (c)) shall provide payment +under the State Medicaid plan under title XIX of the Social Security Act +to an institution for mental diseases that is not publicly owned or +operated and that is subject to the requirements of section 1867 of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395dd) for the provision of medical +assistance available under such plan to individuals who-- + (1) have attained age 21, but have not attained age 65; + (2) are eligible for medical assistance under such plan; and + (3) require such medical assistance to stabilize an + emergency medical condition. + + (b) Stabilization Review.--A State shall specify in its application +described in subsection (c)(1) establish a mechanism for how it will +ensure that institutions participating in the demonstration will +determine whether or not such individuals have been stabilized (as +defined in subsection (h)(5)). <> This +mechanism shall commence before the third day of the inpatient stay. +States participating in the demonstration project may manage the +provision of services for the stabilization of medical emergency +conditions through utilization review, authorization, or management +practices, or the application of medical necessity and appropriateness +criteria applicable to behavioral health. + + (c) Eligible State Defined.-- + (1) In general.--An eligible State is a State that has made + an application and has been selected pursuant to paragraphs (2) + and (3). + (2) Application.--A State seeking to participate in the + demonstration project under this section shall submit to the + Secretary, at such time and in such format as the Secretary + requires, an application that includes such information, + provisions, and assurances, as the Secretary may require. + (3) Selection.--A State shall be determined eligible for the + demonstration by the Secretary on a competitive basis among + States with applications meeting the requirements of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 327]] + + paragraph (1). In selecting State applications for the + demonstration project, the Secretary shall seek to achieve an + appropriate national balance in the geographic distribution of + such projects. + + (d) Length of Demonstration Project.--The demonstration project +established under this section shall be conducted for a period of 3 +consecutive years. + (e) Limitations on Federal Funding.-- + (1) Appropriation.-- + (A) In general.--Out of any funds in the Treasury + not otherwise appropriated, there is appropriated to + carry out this section, $75,000,000 for fiscal year + 2011. + (B) Budget authority.--Subparagraph (A) constitutes + budget authority in advance of appropriations Act and + represents the obligation of the Federal Government to + provide for the payment of the amounts appropriated + under that subparagraph. + (2) 5-year availability.--Funds appropriated under paragraph + (1) shall remain available for obligation through December 31, + 2015. + (3) Limitation on payments.--In no case may-- + (A) the aggregate amount of payments made by the + Secretary to eligible States under this section exceed + $75,000,000; or + (B) payments be provided by the Secretary under this + section after December 31, 2015. + (4) Funds allocated to states.--Funds shall be allocated to + eligible States on the basis of criteria, including a State's + application and the availability of funds, as determined by the + Secretary. + (5) Payments to states.--The Secretary shall pay to each + eligible State, from its allocation under paragraph (4), an + amount each quarter equal to the Federal medical assistance + percentage of expenditures in the quarter for medical assistance + described in subsection (a). As a condition of receiving + payment, a State shall collect and report information, as + determined necessary by the Secretary, for the purposes of + providing Federal oversight and conducting an evaluation under + subsection (f)(1). + + (f) Evaluation and Report to Congress.-- + (1) Evaluation.--The Secretary shall conduct an evaluation + of the demonstration project in order to determine the impact on + the functioning of the health and mental health service system + and on individuals enrolled in the Medicaid program and shall + include the following: + (A) An assessment of access to inpatient mental + health services under the Medicaid program; average + lengths of inpatient stays; and emergency room visits. + (B) An assessment of discharge planning by + participating hospitals. + (C) An assessment of the impact of the demonstration + project on the costs of the full range of mental health + services (including inpatient, emergency and ambulatory + care). + (D) An analysis of the percentage of consumers with + Medicaid coverage who are admitted to inpatient + facilities as a result of the demonstration project as + compared to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 328]] + + those admitted to these same facilities through other + means. + (E) A recommendation regarding whether the + demonstration project should be continued after December + 31, 2013, and expanded on a national basis. + (2) Report.--Not later than December 31, 2013, the Secretary + shall submit to Congress and make available to the public a + report on the findings of the evaluation under paragraph (1). + + (g) Waiver Authority.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary shall waive the limitation of + subdivision (B) following paragraph (28) of section 1905(a) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(a)) (relating to + limitations on payments for care or services for individuals + under 65 years of age who are patients in an institution for + mental diseases) for purposes of carrying out the demonstration + project under this section. + (2) Limited other waiver authority.--The Secretary may waive + other requirements of titles XI and XIX of the Social Security + Act (including the requirements of sections 1902(a)(1) (relating + to statewideness) and 1902(1)(10)(B) (relating to + comparability)) only to extent necessary to carry out the + demonstration project under this section. + + (h) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Emergency medical condition.--The term ``emergency + medical condition'' means, with respect to an individual, an + individual who expresses suicidal or homicidal thoughts or + gestures, if determined dangerous to self or others. + (2) Federal medical assistance percentage.--The term + ``Federal medical assistance percentage'' has the meaning given + that term with respect to a State under section 1905(b) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(b)). + (3) Institution for mental diseases.--The term ``institution + for mental diseases'' has the meaning given to that term in + section 1905(i) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(i)). + (4) Medical assistance.--The term ``medical assistance'' has + the meaning given that term in section 1905(a) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(a)). + (5) Stabilized.--The term ``stabilized'' means, with respect + to an individual, that the emergency medical condition no longer + exists with respect to the individual and the individual is no + longer dangerous to self or others. + (6) State.--The term ``State'' has the meaning given that + term for purposes of title XIX of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1396 et seq.). + + Subtitle J--Improvements to the Medicaid and CHIP Payment and Access + Commission (MACPAC) + +SEC. 2801. MACPAC ASSESSMENT OF POLICIES AFFECTING ALL MEDICAID + BENEFICIARIES. + + (a) In General.--Section 1900 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1396) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (b)-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 329]] + + (A) in paragraph (1)-- + (i) in the paragraph heading, by inserting + ``for all states'' before ``and annual''; and + (ii) in subparagraph (A), by striking + ``children's''; + (iii) in subparagraph (B), by inserting ``, + the Secretary, and States'' after ``Congress''; + (iv) in subparagraph (C), by striking ``March + 1'' and inserting ``March 15''; and + (v) in subparagraph (D), by striking ``June + 1'' and inserting ``June 15''; + (B) in paragraph (2)-- + (i) in subparagraph (A)-- + (I) in clause (i)-- + (aa) by inserting ``the + efficient provision of'' after + ``expenditures for''; and + (bb) by striking ``hospital, + skilled nursing facility, + physician, Federally-qualified + health center, rural health + center, and other fees'' and + inserting ``payments to medical, + dental, and health + professionals, hospitals, + residential and long-term care + providers, providers of home and + community based services, + Federally-qualified health + centers and rural health + clinics, managed care entities, + and providers of other covered + items and services''; and + (II) in clause (iii), by inserting + ``(including how such factors and + methodologies enable such beneficiaries + to obtain the services for which they + are eligible, affect provider supply, + and affect providers that serve a + disproportionate share of low-income and + other vulnerable populations)'' after + ``beneficiaries''; + (ii) by redesignating subparagraphs (B) and + (C) as subparagraphs (F) and (H), respectively; + (iii) by inserting after subparagraph (A), the + following: + ``(B) Eligibility policies.--Medicaid and CHIP + eligibility policies, including a determination of the + degree to which Federal and State policies provide + health care coverage to needy populations. + ``(C) Enrollment and retention processes.--Medicaid + and CHIP enrollment and retention processes, including a + determination of the degree to which Federal and State + policies encourage the enrollment of individuals who are + eligible for such programs and screen out individuals + who are ineligible, while minimizing the share of + program expenses devoted to such processes. + ``(D) Coverage policies.--Medicaid and CHIP benefit + and coverage policies, including a determination of the + degree to which Federal and State policies provide + access to the services enrollees require to improve and + maintain their health and functional status. + ``(E) Quality of care.--Medicaid and CHIP policies + as they relate to the quality of care provided under + those programs, including a determination of the degree + to which Federal and State policies achieve their stated + goals and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 330]] + + interact with similar goals established by other + purchasers of health care services.''; + (iv) by inserting after subparagraph (F) (as + redesignated by clause (ii) of this subparagraph), + the following: + ``(G) Interactions with medicare and medicaid.-- + Consistent with paragraph (11), the interaction of + policies under Medicaid and the Medicare program under + title XVIII, including with respect to how such + interactions affect access to services, payments, and + dual eligible individuals.'' and + (v) in subparagraph (H) (as so redesignated), + by inserting ``and preventive, acute, and long- + term services and supports'' after ``barriers''; + (C) by redesignating paragraphs (3) through (9) as + paragraphs (4) through (10), respectively; + (D) by inserting after paragraph (2), the following + new paragraph: + ``(3) Recommendations and reports of state-specific data.-- + MACPAC shall-- + ``(A) review national and State-specific Medicaid + and CHIP data; and + ``(B) submit reports and recommendations to + Congress, the Secretary, and States based on such + reviews.''; + (E) in paragraph (4), as redesignated by + subparagraph (C), by striking ``or any other problems'' + and all that follows through the period and inserting + ``, as well as other factors that adversely affect, or + have the potential to adversely affect, access to care + by, or the health care status of, Medicaid and CHIP + beneficiaries. MACPAC shall include in the annual report + required under paragraph (1)(D) a description of all + such areas or problems identified with respect to the + period addressed in the report.''; + (F) in paragraph (5), as so redesignated,-- + (i) in the paragraph heading, by inserting + ``and regulations'' after ``reports''; and + (ii) by striking ``If'' and inserting the + following: + ``(A) Certain secretarial reports.--If''; and + (iii) in the second sentence, by inserting + ``and the Secretary'' after ``appropriate + committees of Congress''; and + (iv) by adding at the end the following: + ``(B) Regulations.--MACPAC shall review Medicaid and + CHIP regulations and may comment through submission of a + report to the appropriate committees of Congress and the + Secretary, on any such regulations that affect access, + quality, or efficiency of health care.''; + (G) in paragraph (10), as so redesignated, by + inserting `` <> , and shall submit with + any recommendations, a report on the Federal and State- + specific budget consequences of the recommendations'' + before the period; and + (H) by adding at the end the following: + ``(11) Consultation and coordination with medpac.-- + ``(A) In general.--MACPAC shall consult with the + Medicare Payment Advisory Commission (in this paragraph + referred to as `MedPAC') established under section 1805 + in carrying out its duties under this section, as + appropriate and particularly with respect to the issues + specified in + +[[Page 124 STAT. 331]] + + paragraph (2) as they relate to those Medicaid + beneficiaries who are dually eligible for Medicaid and + the Medicare program under title XVIII, adult Medicaid + beneficiaries (who are not dually eligible for + Medicare), and beneficiaries under Medicare. + Responsibility for analysis of and recommendations to + change Medicare policy regarding Medicare beneficiaries, + including Medicare beneficiaries who are dually eligible + for Medicare and Medicaid, shall rest with MedPAC. + ``(B) Information sharing.--MACPAC and MedPAC shall + have access to deliberations and records of the other + such entity, respectively, upon the request of the other + such entity. + ``(12) Consultation with states.--MACPAC shall regularly + consult with States in carrying out its duties under this + section, including with respect to developing processes for + carrying out such duties, and shall ensure that input from + States is taken into account and represented in MACPAC's + recommendations and reports. + ``(13) Coordinate and consult with the federal coordinated + health care office.--MACPAC shall coordinate and consult with + the Federal Coordinated Health Care Office established under + section 2081 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act + before making any recommendations regarding dual eligible + individuals. + ``(14) Programmatic oversight vested in the secretary.-- + MACPAC's authority to make recommendations in accordance with + this section shall not affect, or be considered to duplicate, + the Secretary's authority to carry out Federal responsibilities + with respect to Medicaid and CHIP.''; + (2) in subsection (c)(2)-- + (A) by striking subparagraphs (A) and (B) and + inserting the following: + ``(A) In general.--The membership of MACPAC shall + include individuals who have had direct experience as + enrollees or parents or caregivers of enrollees in + Medicaid or CHIP and individuals with national + recognition for their expertise in Federal safety net + health programs, health finance and economics, actuarial + science, health plans and integrated delivery systems, + reimbursement for health care, health information + technology, and other providers of health services, + public health, and other related fields, who provide a + mix of different professions, broad geographic + representation, and a balance between urban and rural + representation. + ``(B) Inclusion.--The membership of MACPAC shall + include (but not be limited to) physicians, dentists, + and other health professionals, employers, third-party + payers, and individuals with expertise in the delivery + of health services. Such membership shall also include + representatives of children, pregnant women, the + elderly, individuals with disabilities, caregivers, and + dual eligible individuals, current or former + representatives of State agencies responsible for + administering Medicaid, and current or former + representatives of State agencies responsible for + administering CHIP.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 332]] + + (3) in subsection (d)(2), by inserting ``and State'' after + ``Federal''; + (4) in subsection (e)(1), in the first sentence, by + inserting ``and, as a condition for receiving payments under + sections 1903(a) and 2105(a), from any State agency responsible + for administering Medicaid or CHIP,'' after ``United States''; + and + (5) in subsection (f)-- + (A) in the subsection heading, by striking + ``Authorization of Appropriations'' and inserting + ``Funding''; + (B) in paragraph (1), by inserting ``(other than for + fiscal year 2010)'' before ``in the same manner''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(3) Funding for fiscal year 2010.-- + ``(A) In general.--Out of any funds in the Treasury + not otherwise appropriated, there is appropriated to + MACPAC to carry out the provisions of this section for + fiscal year 2010, $9,000,000. + ``(B) Transfer of funds.--Notwithstanding section + 2104(a)(13), from the amounts appropriated in such + section for fiscal year 2010, $2,000,000 is hereby + transferred and made available in such fiscal year to + MACPAC to carry out the provisions of this section. + ``(4) Availability.--Amounts made available under paragraphs + (2) and (3) to MACPAC to carry out the provisions of this + section shall remain available until expended.''. + + (b) Conforming MedPAC Amendments.--Section 1805(b) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395b-6(b)), is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1)(C), by striking ``March 1 of each year + (beginning with 1998)'' and inserting ``March 15''; + (2) in paragraph (1)(D), by inserting ``, and (beginning + with 2012) containing an examination of the topics described in + paragraph (9), to the extent feasible'' before the period; and + (3) by adding at the end the following: + ``(9) Review and annual report on medicaid and commercial + trends.--The Commission shall review and report on aggregate + trends in spending, utilization, and financial performance under + the Medicaid program under title XIX and the private market for + health care services with respect to providers for which, on an + aggregate national basis, a significant portion of revenue or + services is associated with the Medicaid program. Where + appropriate, the Commission shall conduct such review in + consultation with the Medicaid and CHIP Payment and Access + Commission established under section 1900 (in this section + referred to as `MACPAC'). + ``(10) Coordinate and consult with the federal coordinated + health care office.--The Commission shall coordinate and consult + with the Federal Coordinated Health Care Office established + under section 2081 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act before making any recommendations regarding dual eligible + individuals. + ``(11) Interaction of medicaid and medicare.--The Commission + shall consult with MACPAC in carrying out its duties under this + section, as appropriate. Responsibility for analysis of and + recommendations to change Medicare policy regarding Medicare + beneficiaries, including Medicare beneficiaries who are dually + eligible for Medicare and Medicaid, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 333]] + + shall rest with the Commission. Responsibility for analysis of + and recommendations to change Medicaid policy regarding Medicaid + beneficiaries, including Medicaid beneficiaries who are dually + eligible for Medicare and Medicaid, shall rest with MACPAC.''. + + Subtitle K--Protections for American Indians and Alaska Natives + +SEC. 2901. SPECIAL RULES RELATING TO INDIANS. + + (a) <> No Cost-sharing for Indians With Income +at or Below 300 Percent of Poverty Enrolled in Coverage Through a State +Exchange.--For provisions prohibiting cost sharing for Indians enrolled +in any qualified health plan in the individual market through an +Exchange, see section 1402(d) of the Patient Protection and Affordable +Care Act. + + (b) <> Payer of Last Resort.--Health programs +operated by the Indian Health Service, Indian tribes, tribal +organizations, and Urban Indian organizations (as those terms are +defined in section 4 of the Indian Health Care Improvement Act (25 +U.S.C. 1603)) shall be the payer of last resort for services provided by +such Service, tribes, or organizations to individuals eligible for +services through such programs, notwithstanding any Federal, State, or +local law to the contrary. + + (c) Facilitating Enrollment of Indians Under the Express Lane +Option.--Section 1902(e)(13)(F)(ii) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396a(e)(13)(F)(ii)) is amended-- + (1) in the clause heading, by inserting ``and indian tribes + and tribal organizations'' after ``agencies''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + ``(IV) The Indian Health Service, an + Indian Tribe, Tribal Organization, or + Urban Indian Organization (as defined in + section 1139(c)).''. + + (d) Technical Corrections.--Section 1139(c) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1320b-9(c)) is amended by striking ``In this section'' +and inserting ``For purposes of this section, title XIX, and title +XXI''. + +SEC. 2902. ELIMINATION OF SUNSET FOR REIMBURSEMENT FOR ALL MEDICARE PART + B SERVICES FURNISHED BY CERTAIN INDIAN HOSPITALS AND + CLINICS. + + (a) Reimbursement for All Medicare Part B Services Furnished by +Certain Indian Hospitals and Clinics.--Section 1880(e)(1)(A) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395qq(e)(1)(A)) is amended by striking +``during the 5-year period beginning on'' and inserting ``on or after''. + (b) Effective Date.-- <> The amendments made by this section shall apply to items or +services furnished on or after January 1, 2010. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 334]] + + Subtitle L--Maternal and Child Health Services + +SEC. 2951. MATERNAL, INFANT, AND EARLY CHILDHOOD HOME VISITING PROGRAMS. + + Title V of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 701 et seq.) is +amended by adding at the end the following new section: + +``SEC. 511. <> MATERNAL, INFANT, AND EARLY CHILDHOOD + HOME VISITING PROGRAMS. + + ``(a) Purposes.--The purposes of this section are-- + ``(1) to strengthen and improve the programs and activities + carried out under this title; + ``(2) to improve coordination of services for at risk + communities; and + ``(3) to identify and provide comprehensive services to + improve outcomes for families who reside in at risk communities. + + ``(b) Requirement for All States To Assess Statewide Needs and +Identify at Risk Communities.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> Not later than 6 + months after the date of enactment of this section, each State + shall, as a condition of receiving payments from an allotment + for the State under section 502 for fiscal year 2011, conduct a + statewide needs assessment (which shall be separate from the + statewide needs assessment required under section 505(a)) that + identifies-- + ``(A) communities with concentrations of-- + ``(i) premature birth, low-birth weight + infants, and infant mortality, including infant + death due to neglect, or other indicators of at- + risk prenatal, maternal, newborn, or child health; + ``(ii) poverty; + ``(iii) crime; + ``(iv) domestic violence; + ``(v) high rates of high-school drop-outs; + ``(vi) substance abuse; + ``(vii) unemployment; or + ``(viii) child maltreatment; + ``(B) the quality and capacity of existing programs + or initiatives for early childhood home visitation in + the State including-- + ``(i) the number and types of individuals and + families who are receiving services under such + programs or initiatives; + ``(ii) the gaps in early childhood home + visitation in the State; and + ``(iii) the extent to which such programs or + initiatives are meeting the needs of eligible + families described in subsection (k)(2); and + ``(C) the State's capacity for providing substance + abuse treatment and counseling services to individuals + and families in need of such treatment or services. + ``(2) Coordination with other assessments.--In conducting + the statewide needs assessment required under paragraph (1), the + State shall coordinate with, and take into account, other + appropriate needs assessments conducted by + +[[Page 124 STAT. 335]] + + the State, as determined by the Secretary, including the needs + assessment required under section 505(a) (both the most recently + completed assessment and any such assessment in progress), the + communitywide strategic planning and needs assessments conducted + in accordance with section 640(g)(1)(C) of the Head Start Act, + and the inventory of current unmet needs and current community- + based and prevention-focused programs and activities to prevent + child abuse and neglect, and other family resource services + operating in the State required under section 205(3) of the + Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act. + ``(3) Submission to the secretary.--Each State shall submit + to the Secretary, in such form and manner as the Secretary shall + require-- + ``(A) the results of the statewide needs assessment + required under paragraph (1); and + ``(B) a description of how the State intends to + address needs identified by the assessment, particularly + with respect to communities identified under paragraph + (1)(A), which may include applying for a grant to + conduct an early childhood home visitation program in + accordance with the requirements of this section. + + ``(c) Grants for Early Childhood Home Visitation Programs.-- + ``(1) Authority to make grants.--In addition to any other + payments made under this title to a State, the Secretary shall + make grants to eligible entities to enable the entities to + deliver services under early childhood home visitation programs + that satisfy the requirements of subsection (d) to eligible + families in order to promote improvements in maternal and + prenatal health, infant health, child health and development, + parenting related to child development outcomes, school + readiness, and the socioeconomic status of such families, and + reductions in child abuse, neglect, and injuries. + ``(2) Authority to use initial grant funds for planning or + implementation.--An eligible entity that receives a grant under + paragraph (1) may use a portion of the funds made available to + the entity during the first 6 months of the period for which the + grant is made for planning or implementation activities to + assist with the establishment of early childhood home visitation + programs that satisfy the requirements of subsection (d). + ``(3) <> Grant duration.--The + Secretary shall determine the period of years for which a grant + is made to an eligible entity under paragraph (1). + ``(4) Technical assistance.--The Secretary shall provide an + eligible entity that receives a grant under paragraph (1) with + technical assistance in administering programs or activities + conducted in whole or in part with grant funds. + + ``(d) Requirements.--The requirements of this subsection for an +early childhood home visitation program conducted with a grant made +under this section are as follows: + ``(1) Quantifiable, measurable improvement in benchmark + areas.-- + ``(A) In general.--The eligible entity establishes, + subject to the approval of the Secretary, quantifiable, + measurable 3- and 5-year benchmarks for demonstrating + that the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 336]] + + program results in improvements for the eligible + families participating in the program in each of the + following areas: + ``(i) Improved maternal and newborn health. + ``(ii) Prevention of child injuries, child + abuse, neglect, or maltreatment, and reduction of + emergency department visits. + ``(iii) Improvement in school readiness and + achievement. + ``(iv) Reduction in crime or domestic + violence. + ``(v) Improvements in family economic self- + sufficiency. + ``(vi) Improvements in the coordination and + referrals for other community resources and + supports. + ``(B) Demonstration of improvements after 3 years.-- + ``(i) Report to the secretary.--Not later than + 30 days after the end of the 3rd year in which the + eligible entity conducts the program, the entity + submits to the Secretary a report demonstrating + improvement in at least 4 of the areas specified + in subparagraph (A). + ``(ii) Corrective action plan.--If the report + submitted by the eligible entity under clause (i) + fails to demonstrate improvement in at least 4 of + the areas specified in subparagraph (A), the + entity shall develop and implement a plan to + improve outcomes in each of the areas specified in + subparagraph (A), subject to approval by the + Secretary. The plan shall include provisions for + the Secretary to monitor implementation of the + plan and conduct continued oversight of the + program, including through submission by the + entity of regular reports to the Secretary. + ``(iii) Technical assistance.-- + ``(I) In general.--The Secretary + shall provide an eligible entity + required to develop and implement an + improvement plan under clause (ii) with + technical assistance to develop and + implement the plan. The Secretary may + provide the technical assistance + directly or through grants, contracts, + or cooperative agreements. + ``(II) Advisory + panel. <> --The + Secretary shall establish an advisory + panel for purposes of obtaining + recommendations regarding the technical + assistance provided to entities in + accordance with subclause (I). + ``(iv) No improvement or failure to submit + report. <> --If + the Secretary determines after a period of time + specified by the Secretary that an eligible entity + implementing an improvement plan under clause (ii) + has failed to demonstrate any improvement in the + areas specified in subparagraph (A), or if the + Secretary determines that an eligible entity has + failed to submit the report required under clause + (i), the Secretary shall terminate the entity's + grant and may include any unexpended grant funds + in grants made to nonprofit organizations under + subsection (h)(2)(B). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 337]] + + ``(C) Final report.--Not later than December 31, + 2015, the eligible entity shall submit a report to the + Secretary demonstrating improvements (if any) in each of + the areas specified in subparagraph (A). + ``(2) Improvements in outcomes for individual families.-- + ``(A) In general.--The program is designed, with + respect to an eligible family participating in the + program, to result in the participant outcomes described + in subparagraph (B) that the eligible entity identifies + on the basis of an individualized assessment of the + family, are relevant for that family. + ``(B) Participant outcomes.--The participant + outcomes described in this subparagraph are the + following: + ``(i) Improvements in prenatal, maternal, and + newborn health, including improved pregnancy + outcomes + ``(ii) Improvements in child health and + development, including the prevention of child + injuries and maltreatment and improvements in + cognitive, language, social-emotional, and + physical developmental indicators. + ``(iii) Improvements in parenting skills. + ``(iv) Improvements in school readiness and + child academic achievement. + ``(v) Reductions in crime or domestic + violence. + ``(vi) Improvements in family economic self- + sufficiency. + ``(vii) Improvements in the coordination of + referrals for, and the provision of, other + community resources and supports for eligible + families, consistent with State child welfare + agency training. + ``(3) Core components.--The program includes the following + core components: + ``(A) Service delivery model or models.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), the + program is conducted using 1 or more of the + service delivery models described in item (aa) or + (bb) of subclause (I) or in subclause (II) + selected by the eligible entity: + ``(I) The model conforms to a clear + consistent home visitation model that + has been in existence for at least 3 + years and is research-based, grounded in + relevant empirically-based knowledge, + linked to program determined outcomes, + associated with a national organization + or institution of higher education that + has comprehensive home visitation + program standards that ensure high + quality service delivery and continuous + program quality improvement, and has + demonstrated significant, (and in the + case of the service delivery model + described in item (aa), sustained) + positive outcomes, as described in the + benchmark areas specified in paragraph + (1)(A) and the participant outcomes + described in paragraph (2)(B), when + evaluated using well-designed and + rigorous-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 338]] + + ``(aa) randomized controlled + research designs, and the + evaluation results have been + published in a peer-reviewed + journal; or + ``(bb) quasi-experimental + research designs. + ``(II) The model conforms to a + promising and new approach to achieving + the benchmark areas specified in + paragraph (1)(A) and the participant + outcomes described in paragraph (2)(B), + has been developed or identified by a + national organization or institution of + higher education, and will be evaluated + through well-designed and rigorous + process. + ``(ii) Majority of grant funds used for + evidence-based models.--An eligible entity shall + use not more than 25 percent of the amount of the + grant paid to the entity for a fiscal year for + purposes of conducting a program using the service + delivery model described in clause (i)(II). + ``(iii) Criteria for evidence of effectiveness + of models.--The Secretary shall establish criteria + for evidence of effectiveness of the service + delivery models and shall ensure that the process + for establishing the criteria is transparent and + provides the opportunity for public comment. + ``(B) Additional requirements.-- + ``(i) The program adheres to a clear, + consistent model that satisfies the requirements + of being grounded in empirically-based knowledge + related to home visiting and linked to the + benchmark areas specified in paragraph (1)(A) and + the participant outcomes described in paragraph + (2)(B) related to the purposes of the program. + ``(ii) The program employs well-trained and + competent staff, as demonstrated by education or + training, such as nurses, social workers, + educators, child development specialists, or other + well-trained and competent staff, and provides + ongoing and specific training on the model being + delivered. + ``(iii) The program maintains high quality + supervision to establish home visitor + competencies. + ``(iv) The program demonstrates strong + organizational capacity to implement the + activities involved. + ``(v) The program establishes appropriate + linkages and referral networks to other community + resources and supports for eligible families. + ``(vi) The program monitors the fidelity of + program implementation to ensure that services are + delivered pursuant to the specified model. + ``(4) Priority for serving high-risk populations.--The + eligible entity gives priority to providing services under the + program to the following: + ``(A) Eligible families who reside in communities in + need of such services, as identified in the statewide + needs assessment required under subsection (b)(1)(A). + ``(B) Low-income eligible families. + ``(C) Eligible families who are pregnant women who + have not attained age 21. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 339]] + + ``(D) Eligible families that have a history of child + abuse or neglect or have had interactions with child + welfare services. + ``(E) Eligible families that have a history of + substance abuse or need substance abuse treatment. + ``(F) Eligible families that have users of tobacco + products in the home. + ``(G) Eligible families that are or have children + with low student achievement. + ``(H) Eligible families with children with + developmental delays or disabilities. + ``(I) Eligible families who, or that include + individuals who, are serving or formerly served in the + Armed Forces, including such families that have members + of the Armed Forces who have had multiple deployments + outside of the United States. + + ``(e) Application Requirements.--An eligible entity desiring a grant +under this section shall submit an application to the Secretary for +approval, in such manner as the Secretary may require, that includes the +following: + ``(1) A description of the populations to be served by the + entity, including specific information regarding how the entity + will serve high risk populations described in subsection (d)(4). + ``(2) An assurance that the entity will give priority to + serving low-income eligible families and eligible families who + reside in at risk communities identified in the statewide needs + assessment required under subsection (b)(1)(A). + ``(3) The service delivery model or models described in + subsection (d)(3)(A) that the entity will use under the program + and the basis for the selection of the model or models. + ``(4) A statement identifying how the selection of the + populations to be served and the service delivery model or + models that the entity will use under the program for such + populations is consistent with the results of the statewide + needs assessment conducted under subsection (b). + ``(5) The quantifiable, measurable benchmarks established by + the State to demonstrate that the program contributes to + improvements in the areas specified in subsection (d)(1)(A). + ``(6) An assurance that the entity will obtain and submit + documentation or other appropriate evidence from the + organization or entity that developed the service delivery model + or models used under the program to verify that the program is + implemented and services are delivered according to the model + specifications. + ``(7) Assurances that the entity will establish procedures + to ensure that-- + ``(A) the participation of each eligible family in + the program is voluntary; and + ``(B) services are provided to an eligible family in + accordance with the individual assessment for that + family. + ``(8) Assurances that the entity will-- + ``(A) submit annual reports to the Secretary + regarding the program and activities carried out under + the program that include such information and data as + the Secretary shall require; and + ``(B) participate in, and cooperate with, data and + information collection necessary for the evaluation + required + +[[Page 124 STAT. 340]] + + under subsection (g)(2) and other research and + evaluation activities carried out under subsection + (h)(3). + ``(9) A description of other State programs that include + home visitation services, including, if applicable to the State, + other programs carried out under this title with funds made + available from allotments under section 502(c), programs funded + under title IV, title II of the Child Abuse Prevention and + Treatment Act (relating to community-based grants for the + prevention of child abuse and neglect), and section 645A of the + Head Start Act (relating to Early Head Start programs). + ``(10) Other information as required by the Secretary. + + ``(f) Maintenance of Effort.--Funds provided to an eligible entity +receiving a grant under this section shall supplement, and not supplant, +funds from other sources for early childhood home visitation programs or +initiatives. + ``(g) Evaluation.-- + ``(1) Independent, expert advisory + panel. <> --The Secretary, in accordance + with subsection (h)(1)(A), shall appoint an independent advisory + panel consisting of experts in program evaluation and research, + education, and early childhood development-- + ``(A) to review, and make recommendations on, the + design and plan for the evaluation required under + paragraph (2) within 1 year after the date of enactment + of this section; + ``(B) to maintain and advise the Secretary regarding + the progress of the evaluation; and + ``(C) to comment, if the panel so desires, on the + report submitted under paragraph (3). + ``(2) <> Authority to conduct + evaluation.--On the basis of the recommendations of the advisory + panel under paragraph (1), the Secretary shall, by grant, + contract, or interagency agreement, conduct an evaluation of the + statewide needs assessments submitted under subsection (b) and + the grants made under subsections (c) and (h)(3)(B). The + evaluation shall include-- + ``(A) an analysis, on a State-by-State basis, of the + results of such assessments, including indicators of + maternal and prenatal health and infant health and + mortality, and State actions in response to the + assessments; and + ``(B) an assessment of <> -- + ``(i) the effect of early childhood home + visitation programs on child and parent outcomes, + including with respect to each of the benchmark + areas specified in subsection (d)(1)(A) and the + participant outcomes described in subsection + (d)(2)(B); + ``(ii) the effectiveness of such programs on + different populations, including the extent to + which the ability of programs to improve + participant outcomes varies across programs and + populations; and + ``(iii) the potential for the activities + conducted under such programs, if scaled broadly, + to improve health care practices, eliminate health + disparities, and improve health care system + quality, efficiencies, and reduce costs. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 341]] + + ``(3) Report.--Not later than March 31, 2015, the Secretary + shall submit a report to Congress on the results of the + evaluation conducted under paragraph (2) and shall make the + report publicly available. + + ``(h) Other Provisions.-- + ``(1) Intra-agency collaboration.--The Secretary shall + ensure that the Maternal and Child Health Bureau and the + Administration for Children and Families collaborate with + respect to carrying out this section, including with respect + to-- + ``(A) reviewing and analyzing the statewide needs + assessments required under subsection (b), the awarding + and oversight of grants awarded under this section, the + establishment of the advisory panels required under + subsections (d)(1)(B)(iii)(II) and (g)(1), and the + evaluation and report required under subsection (g); and + ``(B) consulting with other Federal agencies with + responsibility for administering or evaluating programs + that serve eligible families to coordinate and + collaborate with respect to research related to such + programs and families, including the Office of the + Assistant Secretary for Planning and Evaluation of the + Department of Health and Human Services, the Centers for + Disease Control and Prevention, the National Institute + of Child Health and Human Development of the National + Institutes of Health, the Office of Juvenile Justice and + Delinquency Prevention of the Department of Justice, and + the Institute of Education Sciences of the Department of + Education. + ``(2) <> Grants to eligible entities + that are not states.-- + ``(A) Indian tribes, tribal organizations, or urban + indian organizations.--The Secretary shall specify + requirements for eligible entities that are Indian + Tribes (or a consortium of Indian Tribes), Tribal + Organizations, or Urban Indian Organizations to apply + for and conduct an early childhood home visitation + program with a grant under this section. Such + requirements shall, to the greatest extent practicable, + be consistent with the requirements applicable to + eligible entities that are States and shall require an + Indian Tribe (or consortium), Tribal Organization, or + Urban Indian Organization to-- + ``(i) conduct a needs assessment similar to + the assessment required for all States under + subsection (b); and + ``(ii) establish quantifiable, measurable 3- + and 5-year benchmarks consistent with subsection + (d)(1)(A). + ``(B) Nonprofit organizations.--If, as of the + beginning of fiscal year 2012, a State has not applied + or been approved for a grant under this section, the + Secretary may use amounts appropriated under paragraph + (1) of subsection (j) that are available for expenditure + under paragraph (3) of that subsection to make a grant + to an eligible entity that is a nonprofit organization + described in subsection (k)(1)(B) to conduct an early + childhood home visitation program in the State. The + Secretary shall specify the requirements for such an + organization to apply for and conduct the program which + shall, to the greatest extent practicable, be consistent + with the requirements applicable + +[[Page 124 STAT. 342]] + + to eligible entities that are States and shall require + the organization to-- + ``(i) carry out the program based on the needs + assessment conducted by the State under subsection + (b); and + ``(ii) establish quantifiable, measurable 3- + and 5-year benchmarks consistent with subsection + (d)(1)(A). + ``(3) Research and other evaluation activities.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall carry out a + continuous program of research and evaluation activities + in order to increase knowledge about the implementation + and effectiveness of home visiting programs, using + random assignment designs to the maximum extent + feasible. The Secretary may carry out such activities + directly, or through grants, cooperative agreements, or + contracts. + ``(B) Requirements.--The Secretary shall ensure + that-- + ``(i) evaluation of a specific program or + project is conducted by persons or individuals not + directly involved in the operation of such program + or project; and + ``(ii) the conduct of research and evaluation + activities includes consultation with independent + researchers, State officials, and developers and + providers of home visiting programs on topics + including research design and administrative data + matching. + ``(4) Report and recommendation.--Not later than December + 31, 2015, the Secretary shall submit a report to Congress + regarding the programs conducted with grants under this section. + The report required under this paragraph shall include-- + ``(A) information regarding the extent to which + eligible entities receiving grants under this section + demonstrated improvements in each of the areas specified + in subsection (d)(1)(A); + ``(B) information regarding any technical assistance + provided under subsection (d)(1)(B)(iii)(I), including + the type of any such assistance provided; and + ``(C) recommendations for such legislative or + administrative action as the Secretary determines + appropriate. + + ``(i) Application of Other Provisions of Title.-- + ``(1) In general.--Except as provided in paragraph (2), the + other provisions of this title shall not apply to a grant made + under this section. + ``(2) Exceptions.--The following provisions of this title + shall apply to a grant made under this section to the same + extent and in the same manner as such provisions apply to + allotments made under section 502(c): + ``(A) Section 504(b)(6) (relating to prohibition on + payments to excluded individuals and entities). + ``(B) Section 504(c) (relating to the use of funds + for the purchase of technical assistance). + ``(C) Section 504(d) (relating to a limitation on + administrative expenditures). + ``(D) Section 506 (relating to reports and audits), + but only to the extent determined by the Secretary to be + appropriate for grants made under this section. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 343]] + + ``(E) Section 507 (relating to penalties for false + statements). + ``(F) Section 508 (relating to nondiscrimination). + ``(G) Section 509(a) (relating to the administration + of the grant program). + + ``(j) Appropriations.-- + ``(1) In general.--Out of any funds in the Treasury not + otherwise appropriated, there are appropriated to the Secretary + to carry out this section-- + ``(A) $100,000,000 for fiscal year 2010; + ``(B) $250,000,000 for fiscal year 2011; + ``(C) $350,000,000 for fiscal year 2012; + ``(D) $400,000,000 for fiscal year 2013; and + ``(E) $400,000,000 for fiscal year 2014. + ``(2) Reservations.--Of the amount appropriated under this + subsection for a fiscal year, the Secretary shall reserve-- + ``(A) 3 percent of such amount for purposes of + making grants to eligible entities that are Indian + Tribes (or a consortium of Indian Tribes), Tribal + Organizations, or Urban Indian Organizations; and + ``(B) 3 percent of such amount for purposes of + carrying out subsections (d)(1)(B)(iii), (g), and + (h)(3). + ``(3) Availability.--Funds made available to an eligible + entity under this section for a fiscal year shall remain + available for expenditure by the eligible entity through the end + of the second succeeding fiscal year after award. Any funds that + are not expended by the eligible entity during the period in + which the funds are available under the preceding sentence may + be used for grants to nonprofit organizations under subsection + (h)(2)(B). + + ``(k) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Eligible entity.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `eligible entity' means + a State, an Indian Tribe, Tribal Organization, or Urban + Indian Organization, Puerto Rico, Guam, the Virgin + Islands, the Northern Mariana Islands, and American + Samoa. + ``(B) Nonprofit organizations.--Only for purposes of + awarding grants under subsection (h)(2)(B), such term + shall include a nonprofit organization with an + established record of providing early childhood home + visitation programs or initiatives in a State or several + States. + ``(2) Eligible family.--The term `eligible family' means-- + ``(A) a woman who is pregnant, and the father of the + child if the father is available; or + ``(B) a parent or primary caregiver of a child, + including grandparents or other relatives of the child, + and foster parents, who are serving as the child's + primary caregiver from birth to kindergarten entry, and + including a noncustodial parent who has an ongoing + relationship with, and at times provides physical care + for, the child. + ``(3) Indian tribe; tribal organization.--The terms `Indian + Tribe' and `Tribal Organization', and `Urban Indian + Organization' have the meanings given such terms in section 4 of + the Indian Health Care Improvement Act.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 344]] + +SEC. 2952. <> SUPPORT, EDUCATION, AND RESEARCH + FOR POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION. + + (a) Research on Postpartum Conditions.-- + (1) Expansion and intensification of activities.--The + Secretary of Health and Human Services (in this subsection and + subsection (c) referred to as the ``Secretary'') is encouraged + to continue activities on postpartum depression or postpartum + psychosis (in this subsection and subsection (c) referred to as + ``postpartum conditions''), including research to expand the + understanding of the causes of, and treatments for, postpartum + conditions. Activities under this paragraph shall include + conducting and supporting the following: + (A) Basic research concerning the etiology and + causes of the conditions. + (B) Epidemiological studies to address the frequency + and natural history of the conditions and the + differences among racial and ethnic groups with respect + to the conditions. + (C) The development of improved screening and + diagnostic techniques. + (D) Clinical research for the development and + evaluation of new treatments. + (E) Information and education programs for health + care professionals and the public, which may include a + coordinated national campaign to increase the awareness + and knowledge of postpartum conditions. Activities under + such a national campaign may-- + (i) include public service announcements + through television, radio, and other means; and + (ii) focus on-- + (I) raising awareness about + screening; + (II) educating new mothers and their + families about postpartum conditions to + promote earlier diagnosis and treatment; + and + (III) ensuring that such education + includes complete information concerning + postpartum conditions, including its + symptoms, methods of coping with the + illness, and treatment resources. + (2) Sense of congress regarding longitudinal study of + relative mental health consequences for women of resolving a + pregnancy.-- + (A) Sense of congress.--It is the sense of Congress + that the Director of the National Institute of Mental + Health may conduct a nationally representative + longitudinal study (during the period of fiscal years + 2010 through 2019) of the relative mental health + consequences for women of resolving a pregnancy + (intended and unintended) in various ways, including + carrying the pregnancy to term and parenting the child, + carrying the pregnancy to term and placing the child for + adoption, miscarriage, and having an abortion. This + study may assess the incidence, timing, magnitude, and + duration of the immediate and long-term mental health + consequences (positive or negative) of these pregnancy + outcomes. + (B) Report.--Subject to the completion of the study + under subsection (a), beginning not later than 5 years + after the date of the enactment of this Act, and + periodically + +[[Page 124 STAT. 345]] + + thereafter for the duration of the study, such Director + may prepare and submit to the Congress reports on the + findings of the study. + + (b) Grants To Provide Services to Individuals With a Postpartum +Condition and Their Families.--Title V of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 701 et seq.), as amended by section 2951, is amended by adding at +the end the following new section: + +``SEC. 512. <> SERVICES TO INDIVIDUALS WITH A + POSTPARTUM CONDITION AND THEIR FAMILIES. + + ``(a) In General.--In addition to any other payments made under this +title to a State, the Secretary may make grants to eligible entities for +projects for the establishment, operation, and coordination of effective +and cost-efficient systems for the delivery of essential services to +individuals with or at risk for postpartum conditions and their +families. + ``(b) Certain Activities.--To the extent practicable and +appropriate, the Secretary shall ensure that projects funded under +subsection (a) provide education and services with respect to the +diagnosis and management of postpartum conditions for individuals with +or at risk for postpartum conditions and their families. The Secretary +may allow such projects to include the following: + ``(1) Delivering or enhancing outpatient and home-based + health and support services, including case management and + comprehensive treatment services. + ``(2) Delivering or enhancing inpatient care management + services that ensure the well-being of the mother and family and + the future development of the infant. + ``(3) Improving the quality, availability, and organization + of health care and support services (including transportation + services, attendant care, homemaker services, day or respite + care, and providing counseling on financial assistance and + insurance). + ``(4) Providing education about postpartum conditions to + promote earlier diagnosis and treatment. Such education may + include-- + ``(A) providing complete information on postpartum + conditions, symptoms, methods of coping with the + illness, and treatment resources; and + ``(B) in the case of a grantee that is a State, + hospital, or birthing facility-- + ``(i) providing education to new mothers and + fathers, and other family members as appropriate, + concerning postpartum conditions before new + mothers leave the health facility; and + ``(ii) ensuring that training programs + regarding such education are carried out at the + health facility. + + ``(c) Integration With Other Programs.--To the extent practicable +and appropriate, the Secretary may integrate the grant program under +this section with other grant programs carried out by the Secretary, +including the program under section 330 of the Public Health Service +Act. + ``(d) Requirements.--The Secretary shall establish requirements for +grants made under this section that include a limit on the amount of +grants funds that may be used for administration, accounting, reporting, +or program oversight functions and a requirement for each eligible +entity that receives a grant to submit, for + +[[Page 124 STAT. 346]] + +each grant period, a report to the Secretary that describes how grant +funds were used during such period. + ``(e) Technical Assistance.--The Secretary may provide technical +assistance to entities seeking a grant under this section in order to +assist such entities in complying with the requirements of this section. + ``(f) Application of Other Provisions of Title.-- + ``(1) In general.--Except as provided in paragraph (2), the + other provisions of this title shall not apply to a grant made + under this section. + ``(2) Exceptions.--The following provisions of this title + shall apply to a grant made under this section to the same + extent and in the same manner as such provisions apply to + allotments made under section 502(c): + ``(A) Section 504(b)(6) (relating to prohibition on + payments to excluded individuals and entities). + ``(B) Section 504(c) (relating to the use of funds + for the purchase of technical assistance). + ``(C) Section 504(d) (relating to a limitation on + administrative expenditures). + ``(D) Section 506 (relating to reports and audits), + but only to the extent determined by the Secretary to be + appropriate for grants made under this section. + ``(E) Section 507 (relating to penalties for false + statements). + ``(F) Section 508 (relating to nondiscrimination). + ``(G) Section 509(a) (relating to the administration + of the grant program). + + ``(g) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) The term `eligible entity'-- + ``(A) means a public or nonprofit private entity; + and + ``(B) includes a State or local government, public- + private partnership, recipient of a grant under section + 330H of the Public Health Service Act (relating to the + Healthy Start Initiative), public or nonprofit private + hospital, community-based organization, hospice, + ambulatory care facility, community health center, + migrant health center, public housing primary care + center, or homeless health center. + ``(2) The term `postpartum condition' means postpartum + depression or postpartum psychosis.''. + + (c) General Provisions.-- + (1) Authorization of appropriations.--To carry out this + section and the amendment made by subsection (b), there are + authorized to be appropriated, in addition to such other sums as + may be available for such purpose-- + (A) $3,000,000 for fiscal year 2010; and + (B) such sums as may be necessary for fiscal years + 2011 and 2012. + (2) Report by the secretary.-- + (A) Study.--The Secretary shall conduct a study on + the benefits of screening for postpartum conditions. + (B) Report.--Not later than 2 years after the date + of the enactment of this Act, the Secretary shall + complete the study required by subparagraph (A) and + submit a report to the Congress on the results of such + study. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 347]] + +SEC. 2953. PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY EDUCATION. + + Title V of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 701 et seq.), as +amended by sections 2951 and 2952(c), is amended by adding at the end +the following: + +``SEC. 513. <> PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY EDUCATION. + + ``(a) Allotments to States.-- + ``(1) Amount.-- + ``(A) In general.--For the purpose described in + subsection (b), subject to the succeeding provisions of + this section, for each of fiscal years 2010 through + 2014, the Secretary shall allot to each State an amount + equal to the product of-- + ``(i) the amount appropriated under subsection + (f) for the fiscal year and available for + allotments to States after the application of + subsection (c); and + ``(ii) the State youth population percentage + determined under paragraph (2). + ``(B) Minimum allotment.-- + ``(i) In general.--Each State allotment under + this paragraph for a fiscal year shall be at least + $250,000. + ``(ii) Pro rata adjustments.--The Secretary + shall adjust on a pro rata basis the amount of the + State allotments determined under this paragraph + for a fiscal year to the extent necessary to + comply with clause (i). + ``(C) Application required to access allotments.-- + ``(i) In general.--A State shall not be paid + from its allotment for a fiscal year unless the + State submits an application to the Secretary for + the fiscal year and the Secretary approves the + application (or requires changes to the + application that the State satisfies) and meets + such additional requirements as the Secretary may + specify. + ``(ii) Requirements.--The State application + shall contain an assurance that the State has + complied with the requirements of this section in + preparing and submitting the application and shall + include the following as well as such additional + information as the Secretary may require: + ``(I) Based on data from the Centers + for Disease Control and Prevention + National Center for Health Statistics, + the most recent pregnancy rates for the + State for youth ages 10 to 14 and youth + ages 15 to 19 for which data are + available, the most recent birth rates + for such youth populations in the State + for which data are available, and trends + in those rates for the most recently + preceding 5-year period for which such + data are available. + ``(II) State-established goals for + reducing the pregnancy rates and birth + rates for such youth populations. + ``(III) A description of the State's + plan for using the State allotments + provided under this section to achieve + such goals, especially among youth + +[[Page 124 STAT. 348]] + + populations that are the most high-risk + or vulnerable for pregnancies or + otherwise have special circumstances, + including youth in foster care, homeless + youth, youth with HIV/AIDS, pregnant + youth who are under 21 years of age, + mothers who are under 21 years of age, + and youth residing in areas with high + birth rates for youth. + ``(2) State youth population percentage.-- + ``(A) In general.--For purposes of paragraph + (1)(A)(ii), the State youth population percentage is, + with respect to a State, the proportion (expressed as a + percentage) of-- + ``(i) the number of individuals who have + attained age 10 but not attained age 20 in the + State; to + ``(ii) the number of such individuals in all + States. + ``(B) Determination of number of youth.--The number + of individuals described in clauses (i) and (ii) of + subparagraph (A) in a State shall be determined on the + basis of the most recent Bureau of the Census data. + ``(3) Availability of state allotments.--Subject to + paragraph (4)(A), amounts allotted to a State pursuant to this + subsection for a fiscal year shall remain available for + expenditure by the State through the end of the second + succeeding fiscal year. + ``(4) Authority to award grants from state allotments to + local organizations and entities in nonparticipating states.-- + ``(A) Grants from unexpended allotments.--If a State + does not submit an application under this section for + fiscal year 2010 or 2011, the State shall no longer be + eligible to submit an application to receive funds from + the amounts allotted for the State for each of fiscal + years 2010 through 2014 and such amounts shall be used + by the Secretary to award grants under this paragraph + for each of fiscal years 2012 through 2014. The + Secretary also shall use any amounts from the allotments + of States that submit applications under this section + for a fiscal year that remain unexpended as of the end + of the period in which the allotments are available for + expenditure under paragraph (3) for awarding grants + under this paragraph. + ``(B) 3-year grants.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall solicit + applications to award 3-year grants in each of + fiscal years 2012, 2013, and 2014 to local + organizations and entities to conduct, consistent + with subsection (b), programs and activities in + States that do not submit an application for an + allotment under this section for fiscal year 2010 + or 2011. + ``(ii) Faith-based organizations or + consortia.--The Secretary may solicit and award + grants under this paragraph to faith-based + organizations or consortia. + ``(C) Evaluation.--An organization or entity awarded + a grant under this paragraph shall agree to participate + in a rigorous Federal evaluation. + ``(5) Maintenance of effort.--No payment shall be made to a + State from the allotment determined for the State under this + subsection or to a local organization or entity awarded + +[[Page 124 STAT. 349]] + + a grant under paragraph (4), if the expenditure of non-federal + funds by the State, organization, or entity for activities, + programs, or initiatives for which amounts from allotments and + grants under this subsection may be expended is less than the + amount expended by the State, organization, or entity for such + programs or initiatives for fiscal year 2009. + ``(6) Data collection and reporting.--A State or local + organization or entity receiving funds under this section shall + cooperate with such requirements relating to the collection of + data and information and reporting on outcomes regarding the + programs and activities carried out with such funds, as the + Secretary shall specify. + + ``(b) Purpose.-- + ``(1) In general.--The purpose of an allotment under + subsection (a)(1) to a State is to enable the State (or, in the + case of grants made under subsection (a)(4)(B), to enable a + local organization or entity) to carry out personal + responsibility education programs consistent with this + subsection. + ``(2) Personal responsibility education programs.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--In this + section, the term `personal responsibility education + program' means a program that is designed to educate + adolescents on-- + ``(i) both abstinence and contraception for + the prevention of pregnancy and sexually + transmitted infections, including HIV/AIDS, + consistent with the requirements of subparagraph + (B); and + ``(ii) at least 3 of the adulthood preparation + subjects described in subparagraph (C). + ``(B) Requirements.--The requirements of this + subparagraph are the following: + ``(i) The program replicates evidence-based + effective programs or substantially incorporates + elements of effective programs that have been + proven on the basis of rigorous scientific + research to change behavior, which means delaying + sexual activity, increasing condom or + contraceptive use for sexually active youth, or + reducing pregnancy among youth. + ``(ii) The program is medically-accurate and + complete. + ``(iii) The program includes activities to + educate youth who are sexually active regarding + responsible sexual behavior with respect to both + abstinence and the use of contraception. + ``(iv) The program places substantial emphasis + on both abstinence and contraception for the + prevention of pregnancy among youth and sexually + transmitted infections. + ``(v) The program provides age-appropriate + information and activities. + ``(vi) The information and activities carried + out under the program are provided in the cultural + context that is most appropriate for individuals + in the particular population group to which they + are directed. + ``(C) Adulthood preparation subjects.--The adulthood + preparation subjects described in this subparagraph are + the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 350]] + + ``(i) Healthy relationships, such as positive + self-esteem and relationship dynamics, + friendships, dating, romantic involvement, + marriage, and family interactions. + ``(ii) Adolescent development, such as the + development of healthy attitudes and values about + adolescent growth and development, body image, + racial and ethnic diversity, and other related + subjects. + ``(iii) Financial literacy. + ``(iv) Parent-child communication. + ``(v) Educational and career success, such as + developing skills for employment preparation, job + seeking, independent living, financial self- + sufficiency, and workplace productivity. + ``(vi) Healthy life skills, such as goal- + setting, decision making, negotiation, + communication and interpersonal skills, and stress + management. + + ``(c) Reservations of Funds.-- + ``(1) Grants to implement innovative strategies.--From the + amount appropriated under subsection (f) for the fiscal year, + the Secretary shall reserve $10,000,000 of such amount for + purposes of awarding grants to entities to implement innovative + youth pregnancy prevention strategies and target services to + high-risk, vulnerable, and culturally under-represented youth + populations, including youth in foster care, homeless youth, + youth with HIV/AIDS, pregnant women who are under 21 years of + age and their partners, mothers who are under 21 years of age + and their partners, and youth residing in areas with high birth + rates for youth. An entity awarded a grant under this paragraph + shall agree to participate in a rigorous Federal evaluation of + the activities carried out with grant funds. + ``(2) Other reservations.--From the amount appropriated + under subsection (f) for the fiscal year that remains after the + application of paragraph (1), the Secretary shall reserve the + following amounts: + ``(A) Grants for indian tribes or tribal + organizations.--The Secretary shall reserve 5 percent of + such remainder for purposes of awarding grants to Indian + tribes and tribal organizations in such manner, and + subject to such requirements, as the Secretary, in + consultation with Indian tribes and tribal + organizations, determines appropriate. + ``(B) Secretarial responsibilities.-- + ``(i) Reservation of funds.--The Secretary + shall reserve 10 percent of such remainder for + expenditures by the Secretary for the activities + described in clauses (ii) and (iii). + ``(ii) Program support.--The Secretary shall + provide, directly or through a competitive grant + process, research, training and technical + assistance, including dissemination of research + and information regarding effective and promising + practices, providing consultation and resources on + a broad array of teen pregnancy prevention + strategies, including abstinence and + contraception, and developing resources and + materials to support the activities of recipients + of grants and other State, tribal, and community + organizations working + +[[Page 124 STAT. 351]] + + to reduce teen pregnancy. In carrying out such + functions, the Secretary shall collaborate with a + variety of entities that have expertise in the + prevention of teen pregnancy, HIV and sexually + transmitted infections, healthy relationships, + financial literacy, and other topics addressed + through the personal responsibility education + programs. + ``(iii) Evaluation.--The Secretary shall + evaluate the programs and activities carried out + with funds made available through allotments or + grants under this section. + + ``(d) Administration.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall administer this + section through the Assistant Secretary for the Administration + for Children and Families within the Department of Health and + Human Services. + ``(2) Application of other provisions of title.-- + ``(A) In general.--Except as provided in + subparagraph (B), the other provisions of this title + shall not apply to allotments or grants made under this + section. + ``(B) Exceptions.--The following provisions of this + title shall apply to allotments and grants made under + this section to the same extent and in the same manner + as such provisions apply to allotments made under + section 502(c): + ``(i) Section 504(b)(6) (relating to + prohibition on payments to excluded individuals + and entities). + ``(ii) Section 504(c) (relating to the use of + funds for the purchase of technical assistance). + ``(iii) Section 504(d) (relating to a + limitation on administrative expenditures). + ``(iv) Section 506 (relating to reports and + audits), but only to the extent determined by the + Secretary to be appropriate for grants made under + this section. + ``(v) Section 507 (relating to penalties for + false statements). + ``(vi) Section 508 (relating to + nondiscrimination). + + ``(e) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Age-appropriate.--The term `age-appropriate', with + respect to the information in pregnancy prevention, means + topics, messages, and teaching methods suitable to particular + ages or age groups of children and adolescents, based on + developing cognitive, emotional, and behavioral capacity typical + for the age or age group. + ``(2) Medically accurate and complete.--The term `medically + accurate and complete' means verified or supported by the weight + of research conducted in compliance with accepted scientific + methods and-- + ``(A) published in peer-reviewed journals, where + applicable; or + ``(B) comprising information that leading + professional organizations and agencies with relevant + expertise in the field recognize as accurate, objective, + and complete. + ``(3) Indian tribes; tribal organizations.--The terms + `Indian tribe' and `Tribal organization' have the meanings given + such terms in section 4 of the Indian Health Care Improvement + Act (25 U.S.C. 1603)). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 352]] + + ``(4) Youth.--The term `youth' means an individual who has + attained age 10 but has not attained age 20. + + ``(f) Appropriation.--For the purpose of carrying out this section, +there is appropriated, out of any money in the Treasury not otherwise +appropriated, $75,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014. +Amounts appropriated under this subsection shall remain available until +expended.''. + +SEC. 2954. RESTORATION OF FUNDING FOR ABSTINENCE EDUCATION. + + Section 510 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 710) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a), by striking ``fiscal year 1998 and + each subsequent fiscal year'' and inserting ``each of fiscal + years 2010 through 2014''; and + (2) in subsection (d)-- + (A) in the first sentence, by striking ``1998 + through 2003'' and inserting ``2010 through 2014''; and + (B) in the second sentence, by inserting ``(except + that such appropriation shall be made on the date of + enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act in the case of fiscal year 2010)'' before the + period. + +SEC. 2955. INCLUSION OF INFORMATION ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF HAVING A + HEALTH CARE POWER OF ATTORNEY IN TRANSITION PLANNING FOR + CHILDREN AGING OUT OF FOSTER CARE AND INDEPENDENT LIVING + PROGRAMS. + + (a) Transition Planning.--Section 475(5)(H) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 675(5)(H)) is amended by inserting ``includes information +about the importance of designating another individual to make health +care treatment decisions on behalf of the child if the child becomes +unable to participate in such decisions and the child does not have, or +does not want, a relative who would otherwise be authorized under State +law to make such decisions, and provides the child with the option to +execute a health care power of attorney, health care proxy, or other +similar document recognized under State law,'' after ``employment +services,''. + (b) Independent Living Education.--Section 477(b)(3) of such Act (42 +U.S.C. 677(b)(3)) is amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(K) <> A certification by + the chief executive officer of the State that the State + will ensure that an adolescent participating in the + program under this section are provided with education + about the importance of designating another individual + to make health care treatment decisions on behalf of the + adolescent if the adolescent becomes unable to + participate in such decisions and the adolescent does + not have, or does not want, a relative who would + otherwise be authorized under State law to make such + decisions, whether a health care power of attorney, + health care proxy, or other similar document is + recognized under State law, and how to execute such a + document if the adolescent wants to do so.''. + + (c) Health Oversight and Coordination Plan.--Section 422(b)(15)(A) +of such Act (42 U.S.C. 622(b)(15)(A)) is amended-- + (1) in clause (v), by striking ``and'' at the end; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + ``(vii) steps to ensure that the components of + the transition plan development process required + under + +[[Page 124 STAT. 353]] + + section 475(5)(H) that relate to the health care + needs of children aging out of foster care, + including the requirements to include options for + health insurance, information about a health care + power of attorney, health care proxy, or other + similar document recognized under State law, and + to provide the child with the option to execute + such a document, are met; and''. + + (d) <> Effective Date.--The amendments made +by this section take effect on October 1, 2010. + + TITLE III--IMPROVING THE QUALITY AND EFFICIENCY OF HEALTH CARE + + Subtitle A--Transforming the Health Care Delivery System + + PART I--LINKING PAYMENT TO QUALITY OUTCOMES UNDER THE MEDICARE PROGRAM + +SEC. 3001. HOSPITAL VALUE-BASED PURCHASING PROGRAM. + + (a) Program.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1886 of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395ww), as amended by section 4102(a) of the HITECH Act + (Public Law 111-5), is amended by adding at the end the + following new subsection: + + ``(o) Hospital Value-Based Purchasing Program.-- + ``(1) Establishment.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to the succeeding + provisions of this subsection, the Secretary shall + establish a hospital value-based purchasing program (in + this subsection referred to as the `Program') under + which value-based incentive payments are made in a + fiscal year to hospitals that meet the performance + standards under paragraph (3) for the performance period + for such fiscal year (as established under paragraph + (4)). + ``(B) Program to begin in fiscal year 2013.--The + Program shall apply to payments for discharges occurring + on or after October 1, 2012. + ``(C) Applicability of program to hospitals.-- + ``(i) In general.--For purposes of this + subsection, subject to clause (ii), the term + `hospital' means a subsection (d) hospital (as + defined in subsection (d)(1)(B)). + ``(ii) Exclusions.--The term `hospital' shall + not include, with respect to a fiscal year, a + hospital-- + ``(I) that is subject to the payment + reduction under subsection + (b)(3)(B)(viii)(I) for such fiscal year; + ``(II) for which, during the + performance period for such fiscal year, + the Secretary has cited deficiencies + that pose immediate jeopardy to the + health or safety of patients; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 354]] + + ``(III) for which there are not a + minimum number (as determined by the + Secretary) of measures that apply to the + hospital for the performance period for + such fiscal year; or + ``(IV) for which there are not a + minimum number (as determined by the + Secretary) of cases for the measures + that apply to the hospital for the + performance period for such fiscal year. + ``(iii) Independent analysis.--For purposes of + determining the minimum numbers under subclauses + (III) and (IV) of clause (ii), the Secretary shall + have conducted an independent analysis of what + numbers are appropriate. + ``(iv) Exemption.--In the case of a hospital + that is paid under section 1814(b)(3), the + Secretary may exempt such hospital from the + application of this subsection if the State which + is paid under such section submits an annual + report to the Secretary describing how a similar + program in the State for a participating hospital + or hospitals achieves or surpasses the measured + results in terms of patient health outcomes and + cost savings established under this subsection. + ``(2) Measures.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall select + measures for purposes of the Program. Such measures + shall be selected from the measures specified under + subsection (b)(3)(B)(viii). + ``(B) Requirements.-- + ``(i) For fiscal year 2013.--For value-based + incentive payments made with respect to discharges + occurring during fiscal year 2013, the Secretary + shall ensure the following: + ``(I) Conditions or procedures.-- + Measures are selected under subparagraph + (A) that cover at least the following 5 + specific conditions or procedures: + ``(aa) Acute myocardial + infarction (AMI). + ``(bb) Heart failure. + ``(cc) Pneumonia. + ``(dd) Surgeries, as + measured by the Surgical Care + Improvement Project (formerly + referred to as `Surgical + Infection Prevention' for + discharges occurring before July + 2006). + ``(ee) Healthcare-associated + infections, as measured by the + prevention metrics and targets + established in the HHS Action + Plan to Prevent Healthcare- + Associated Infections (or any + successor plan) of the + Department of Health and Human + Services. + ``(II) HCAHPS.--Measures selected + under subparagraph (A) shall be related + to the Hospital Consumer Assessment of + Healthcare Providers and Systems survey + (HCAHPS). + ``(ii) Inclusion of efficiency measures.--For + value-based incentive payments made with respect + to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 355]] + + discharges occurring during fiscal year 2014 or a + subsequent fiscal year, the Secretary shall ensure + that measures selected under subparagraph (A) + include efficiency measures, including measures of + `Medicare spending per beneficiary'. Such measures + shall be adjusted for factors such as age, sex, + race, severity of illness, and other factors that + the Secretary determines appropriate. + ``(C) Limitations.-- + ``(i) Time requirement for prior reporting and + notice.--The Secretary may not select a measure + under subparagraph (A) for use under the Program + with respect to a performance period for a fiscal + year (as established under paragraph (4)) unless + such measure has been specified under subsection + (b)(3)(B)(viii) and included on the Hospital + Compare Internet website for at least 1 year prior + to the beginning of such performance period. + ``(ii) Measure not applicable unless hospital + furnishes services appropriate to the measure.--A + measure selected under subparagraph (A) shall not + apply to a hospital if such hospital does not + furnish services appropriate to such measure. + ``(D) Replacing measures.--Subclause (VI) of + subsection (b)(3)(B)(viii) shall apply to measures + selected under subparagraph (A) in the same manner as + such subclause applies to measures selected under such + subsection. + ``(3) Performance standards.-- + ``(A) Establishment.--The Secretary shall establish + performance standards with respect to measures selected + under paragraph (2) for a performance period for a + fiscal year (as established under paragraph (4)). + ``(B) Achievement and improvement.--The performance + standards established under subparagraph (A) shall + include levels of achievement and improvement. + ``(C) Timing.--The Secretary shall establish and + announce the performance standards under subparagraph + (A) not later than 60 days prior to the beginning of the + performance period for the fiscal year involved. + ``(D) Considerations in establishing standards.--In + establishing performance standards with respect to + measures under this paragraph, the Secretary shall take + into account appropriate factors, such as-- + ``(i) practical experience with the measures + involved, including whether a significant + proportion of hospitals failed to meet the + performance standard during previous performance + periods; + ``(ii) historical performance standards; + ``(iii) improvement rates; and + ``(iv) the opportunity for continued + improvement. + ``(4) Performance period.--For purposes of the Program, the + Secretary shall establish the performance period for a fiscal + year. Such performance period shall begin and end prior to the + beginning of such fiscal year. + ``(5) Hospital performance score.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), the + Secretary shall develop a methodology for assessing the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 356]] + + total performance of each hospital based on performance + standards with respect to the measures selected under + paragraph (2) for a performance period (as established + under paragraph (4)). Using such methodology, the + Secretary shall provide for an assessment (in this + subsection referred to as the `hospital performance + score') for each hospital for each performance period. + ``(B) Application.-- + ``(i) Appropriate distribution.--The Secretary + shall ensure that the application of the + methodology developed under subparagraph (A) + results in an appropriate distribution of value- + based incentive payments under paragraph (6) among + hospitals achieving different levels of hospital + performance scores, with hospitals achieving the + highest hospital performance scores receiving the + largest value-based incentive payments. + ``(ii) Higher of achievement or improvement.-- + The methodology developed under subparagraph (A) + shall provide that the hospital performance score + is determined using the higher of its achievement + or improvement score for each measure. + ``(iii) Weights.--The methodology developed + under subparagraph (A) shall provide for the + assignment of weights for categories of measures + as the Secretary determines appropriate. + ``(iv) No minimum performance standard.--The + Secretary shall not set a minimum performance + standard in determining the hospital performance + score for any hospital. + ``(v) Reflection of measures applicable to the + hospital.--The hospital performance score for a + hospital shall reflect the measures that apply to + the hospital. + ``(6) Calculation of value-based incentive payments.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--In the + case of a hospital that the Secretary determines meets + (or exceeds) the performance standards under paragraph + (3) for the performance period for a fiscal year (as + established under paragraph (4)), the Secretary shall + increase the base operating DRG payment amount (as + defined in paragraph (7)(D)), as determined after + application of paragraph (7)(B)(i), for a hospital for + each discharge occurring in such fiscal year by the + value-based incentive payment amount. + ``(B) Value-based incentive payment amount.--The + value-based incentive payment amount for each discharge + of a hospital in a fiscal year shall be equal to the + product of-- + ``(i) the base operating DRG payment amount + (as defined in paragraph (7)(D)) for the discharge + for the hospital for such fiscal year; and + ``(ii) the value-based incentive payment + percentage specified under subparagraph (C) for + the hospital for such fiscal year. + ``(C) Value-based incentive payment percentage.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 357]] + + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall specify + a value-based incentive payment percentage for a + hospital for a fiscal year. + ``(ii) Requirements.--In specifying the value- + based incentive payment percentage for each + hospital for a fiscal year under clause (i), the + Secretary shall ensure that-- + ``(I) such percentage is based on + the hospital performance score of the + hospital under paragraph (5); and + ``(II) the total amount of value- + based incentive payments under this + paragraph to all hospitals in such + fiscal year is equal to the total amount + available for value-based incentive + payments for such fiscal year under + paragraph (7)(A), as estimated by the + Secretary. + ``(7) Funding for value-based incentive payments.-- + ``(A) Amount.--The total amount available for value- + based incentive payments under paragraph (6) for all + hospitals for a fiscal year shall be equal to the total + amount of reduced payments for all hospitals under + subparagraph (B) for such fiscal year, as estimated by + the Secretary. + ``(B) Adjustment to payments.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall reduce + the base operating DRG payment amount (as defined + in subparagraph (D)) for a hospital for each + discharge in a fiscal year (beginning with fiscal + year 2013) by an amount equal to the applicable + percent (as defined in subparagraph (C)) of the + base operating DRG payment amount for the + discharge for the hospital for such fiscal year. + The Secretary shall make such reductions for all + hospitals in the fiscal year involved, regardless + of whether or not the hospital has been determined + by the Secretary to have earned a value-based + incentive payment under paragraph (6) for such + fiscal year. + ``(ii) No effect on other payments.--Payments + described in items (aa) and (bb) of subparagraph + (D)(i)(II) for a hospital shall be determined as + if this subsection had not been enacted. + ``(C) Applicable percent defined.--For purposes of + subparagraph (B), the term `applicable percent' means-- + ``(i) with respect to fiscal year 2013, 1.0 + percent; + ``(ii) with respect to fiscal year 2014, 1.25 + percent; + ``(iii) with respect to fiscal year 2015, 1.5 + percent; + ``(iv) with respect to fiscal year 2016, 1.75 + percent; and + ``(v) with respect to fiscal year 2017 and + succeeding fiscal years, 2 percent. + ``(D) Base operating drg payment amount defined.-- + ``(i) In general.--Except as provided in + clause (ii), in this subsection, the term `base + operating DRG payment amount' means, with respect + to a hospital for a fiscal year-- + ``(I) the payment amount that would + otherwise be made under subsection (d) + (determined without + +[[Page 124 STAT. 358]] + + regard to subsection (q)) for a + discharge if this subsection did not + apply; reduced by + ``(II) any portion of such payment + amount that is attributable to-- + ``(aa) payments under + paragraphs (5)(A), (5)(B), + (5)(F), and (12) of subsection + (d); and + ``(bb) such other payments + under subsection (d) determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(ii) Special rules for certain hospitals.-- + ``(I) Sole community hospitals and + medicare-dependent, small rural + hospitals.--In the case of a medicare- + dependent, small rural hospital (with + respect to discharges occurring during + fiscal year 2012 and 2013) or a sole + community hospital, in applying + subparagraph (A)(i), the payment amount + that would otherwise be made under + subsection (d) shall be determined + without regard to subparagraphs (I) and + (L) of subsection (b)(3) and + subparagraphs (D) and (G) of subsection + (d)(5). + ``(II) Hospitals paid under section + 1814.--In the case of a hospital that is + paid under section 1814(b)(3), the term + `base operating DRG payment amount' + means the payment amount under such + section. + ``(8) Announcement of net result of + adjustments. <> --Under the Program, the + Secretary shall, not later than 60 days prior to the fiscal year + involved, inform each hospital of the adjustments to payments to + the hospital for discharges occurring in such fiscal year under + paragraphs (6) and (7)(B)(i). + ``(9) No effect in subsequent fiscal years.--The value-based + incentive payment under paragraph (6) and the payment reduction + under paragraph (7)(B)(i) shall each apply only with respect to + the fiscal year involved, and the Secretary shall not take into + account such value-based incentive payment or payment reduction + in making payments to a hospital under this section in a + subsequent fiscal year. + ``(10) Public reporting.-- + ``(A) Hospital specific information.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall make + information available to the public regarding the + performance of individual hospitals under the + Program, including-- + ``(I) the performance of the + hospital with respect to each measure + that applies to the hospital; + ``(II) the performance of the + hospital with respect to each condition + or procedure; and + ``(III) the hospital performance + score assessing the total performance of + the hospital. + ``(ii) Opportunity to review and submit + corrections.--The Secretary shall ensure that a + hospital has the opportunity to review, and submit + corrections for, the information to be made public + with respect to the hospital under clause (i) + prior to such information being made public. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 359]] + + ``(iii) Website.--Such information shall be + posted on the Hospital Compare Internet website in + an easily understandable format. + ``(B) Aggregate information.-- <> The Secretary shall periodically post on the + Hospital Compare Internet website aggregate information + on the Program, including-- + ``(i) the number of hospitals receiving value- + based incentive payments under paragraph (6) and + the range and total amount of such value-based + incentive payments; and + ``(ii) the number of hospitals receiving less + than the maximum value-based incentive payment + available to the hospital for the fiscal year + involved and the range and amount of such + payments. + ``(11) Implementation.-- + ``(A) Appeals.--The Secretary shall establish a + process by which hospitals may appeal the calculation of + a hospital's performance assessment with respect to the + performance standards established under paragraph (3)(A) + and the hospital performance score under paragraph (5). + The Secretary shall ensure that such process provides + for resolution of such appeals in a timely manner. + ``(B) Limitation on review.--Except as provided in + subparagraph (A), there shall be no administrative or + judicial review under section 1869, section 1878, or + otherwise of the following: + ``(i) The methodology used to determine the + amount of the value-based incentive payment under + paragraph (6) and the determination of such + amount. + ``(ii) The determination of the amount of + funding available for such value-based incentive + payments under paragraph (7)(A) and the payment + reduction under paragraph (7)(B)(i). + ``(iii) The establishment of the performance + standards under paragraph (3) and the performance + period under paragraph (4). + ``(iv) The measures specified under subsection + (b)(3)(B)(viii) and the measures selected under + paragraph (2). + ``(v) The methodology developed under + paragraph (5) that is used to calculate hospital + performance scores and the calculation of such + scores. + ``(vi) The validation methodology specified in + subsection (b)(3)(B)(viii)(XI). + ``(C) Consultation with small hospitals.--The + Secretary shall consult with small rural and urban + hospitals on the application of the Program to such + hospitals. + ``(12) Promulgation of regulations.--The Secretary shall + promulgate regulations to carry out the Program, including the + selection of measures under paragraph (2), the methodology + developed under paragraph (5) that is used to calculate hospital + performance scores, and the methodology used to determine the + amount of value-based incentive payments under paragraph (6).''. + (2) Amendments for reporting of hospital quality + information.--Section 1886(b)(3)(B)(viii) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(b)(3)(B)(viii)) is amended-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 360]] + + (A) in subclause (II), by adding at the end the + following sentence: ``The Secretary may require + hospitals to submit data on measures that are not used + for the determination of value-based incentive payments + under subsection (o).''; + (B) in subclause (V), by striking ``beginning with + fiscal year 2008'' and inserting ``for fiscal years 2008 + through 2012''; + (C) in subclause (VII), in the first sentence, by + striking ``data submitted'' and inserting ``information + regarding measures submitted''; and + (D) by adding at the end the following new + subclauses: + + ``(VIII) <> Effective for payments beginning +with fiscal year 2013, with respect to quality measures for outcomes of +care, the Secretary shall provide for such risk adjustment as the +Secretary determines to be appropriate to maintain incentives for +hospitals to treat patients with severe illnesses or conditions. + + ``(IX)(aa) Subject to item (bb), effective for payments beginning +with fiscal year 2013, each measure specified by the Secretary under +this clause shall be endorsed by the entity with a contract under +section 1890(a). + ``(bb) In the case of a specified area or medical topic determined +appropriate by the Secretary for which a feasible and practical measure +has not been endorsed by the entity with a contract under section +1890(a), the Secretary may specify a measure that is not so endorsed as +long as due consideration is given to measures that have been endorsed +or adopted by a consensus organization identified by the Secretary. + ``(X) To the extent practicable, the Secretary shall, with input +from consensus organizations and other stakeholders, take steps to +ensure that the measures specified by the Secretary under this clause +are coordinated and aligned with quality measures applicable to-- + ``(aa) physicians under section 1848(k); and + ``(bb) other providers of services and suppliers under this + title. + + ``(XI) <> The Secretary shall establish a +process to validate measures specified under this clause as appropriate. +Such process shall include the auditing of a number of randomly selected +hospitals sufficient to ensure validity of the reporting program under +this clause as a whole and shall provide a hospital with an opportunity +to appeal the validation of measures reported by such hospital.''. + (3) Website improvements.--Section 1886(b)(3)(B) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(b)(3)(B)), as amended by + section 4102(b) of the HITECH Act (Public Law 111-5), is amended + by adding at the end the following new clause: + + ``(x)(I) <> The Secretary shall develop +standard Internet website reports tailored to meet the needs of various +stakeholders such as hospitals, patients, researchers, and policymakers. +The Secretary shall seek input from such stakeholders in determining the +type of information that is useful and the formats that best facilitate +the use of the information. + + ``(II) The Secretary shall modify the Hospital Compare Internet +website to make the use and navigation of that website readily available +to individuals accessing it.''. + (4) GAO study and report.-- + (A) Study.--The Comptroller General of the United + States shall conduct a study on the performance of the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 361]] + + hospital value-based purchasing program established + under section 1886(o) of the Social Security Act, as + added by paragraph (1). Such study shall include an + analysis of the impact of such program on-- + (i) the quality of care furnished to Medicare + beneficiaries, including diverse Medicare + beneficiary populations (such as diverse in terms + of race, ethnicity, and socioeconomic status); + (ii) expenditures under the Medicare program, + including any reduced expenditures under Part A of + title XVIII of such Act that are attributable to + the improvement in the delivery of inpatient + hospital services by reason of such hospital + value-based purchasing program; + (iii) the quality performance among safety net + hospitals and any barriers such hospitals face in + meeting the performance standards applicable under + such hospital value-based purchasing program; and + (iv) the quality performance among small rural + and small urban hospitals and any barriers such + hospitals face in meeting the performance + standards applicable under such hospital value- + based purchasing program. + (B) Reports.-- + (i) Interim report.--Not later than October 1, + 2015, the Comptroller General of the United States + shall submit to Congress an interim report + containing the results of the study conducted + under subparagraph (A), together with + recommendations for such legislation and + administrative action as the Comptroller General + determines appropriate. + (ii) Final report.--Not later than July 1, + 2017, the Comptroller General of the United States + shall submit to Congress a report containing the + results of the study conducted under subparagraph + (A), together with recommendations for such + legislation and administrative action as the + Comptroller General determines appropriate. + (5) HHS study and report.-- + (A) Study.--The Secretary of Health and Human + Services shall conduct a study on the performance of the + hospital value-based purchasing program established + under section 1886(o) of the Social Security Act, as + added by paragraph (1). Such study shall include an + analysis-- + (i) of ways to improve the hospital value- + based purchasing program and ways to address any + unintended consequences that may occur as a result + of such program; + (ii) of whether the hospital value-based + purchasing program resulted in lower spending + under the Medicare program under title XVIII of + such Act or other financial savings to hospitals; + (iii) the appropriateness of the Medicare + program sharing in any savings generated through + the hospital value-based purchasing program; and + (iv) any other area determined appropriate by + the Secretary. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 362]] + + (B) Report.--Not later than January 1, 2016, the + Secretary of Health and Human Services shall submit to + Congress a report containing the results of the study + conducted under subparagraph (A), together with + recommendations for such legislation and administrative + action as the Secretary determines appropriate. + + (b) <> Value-Based Purchasing +Demonstration Programs.-- + (1) Value-based purchasing demonstration program for + inpatient critical access hospitals.-- + (A) Establishment.-- + (i) In general.-- <> Not + later than 2 years after the date of enactment of + this Act, the Secretary of Health and Human + Services (in this subsection referred to as the + ``Secretary'') shall establish a demonstration + program under which the Secretary establishes a + value-based purchasing program under the Medicare + program under title XVIII of the Social Security + Act for critical access hospitals (as defined in + paragraph (1) of section 1861(mm) of such Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395x(mm))) with respect to inpatient + critical access hospital services (as defined in + paragraph (2) of such section) in order to test + innovative methods of measuring and rewarding + quality and efficient health care furnished by + such hospitals. + (ii) Duration.--The demonstration program + under this paragraph shall be conducted for a 3- + year period. + (iii) Sites.--The Secretary shall conduct the + demonstration program under this paragraph at an + appropriate number (as determined by the + Secretary) of critical access hospitals. The + Secretary shall ensure that such hospitals are + representative of the spectrum of such hospitals + that participate in the Medicare program. + (B) Waiver authority.--The Secretary may waive such + requirements of titles XI and XVIII of the Social + Security Act as may be necessary to carry out the + demonstration program under this paragraph. + (C) Budget neutrality requirement.--In conducting + the demonstration program under this section, the + Secretary shall ensure that the aggregate payments made + by the Secretary do not exceed the amount which the + Secretary would have paid if the demonstration program + under this section was not implemented. + (D) Report.--Not later than 18 months after the + completion of the demonstration program under this + paragraph, the Secretary shall submit to Congress a + report on the demonstration program together with-- + (i) recommendations on the establishment of a + permanent value-based purchasing program under the + Medicare program for critical access hospitals + with respect to inpatient critical access hospital + services; and + (ii) recommendations for such other + legislation and administrative action as the + Secretary determines appropriate. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 363]] + + (2) Value-based purchasing demonstration program for + hospitals excluded from hospital value-based purchasing program + as a result of insufficient numbers of measures and cases.-- + (A) Establishment.-- + (i) In general.-- <> Not + later than 2 years after the date of enactment of + this Act, the Secretary shall establish a + demonstration program under which the Secretary + establishes a value-based purchasing program under + the Medicare program under title XVIII of the + Social Security Act for applicable hospitals (as + defined in clause (ii)) with respect to inpatient + hospital services (as defined in section 1861(b) + of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(b))) + in order to test innovative methods of measuring + and rewarding quality and efficient health care + furnished by such hospitals. + (ii) Applicable hospital defined.--For + purposes of this paragraph, the term ``applicable + hospital'' means a hospital described in subclause + (III) or (IV) of section 1886(o)(1)(C)(ii) of the + Social Security Act, as added by subsection + (a)(1). + (iii) Duration.--The demonstration program + under this paragraph shall be conducted for a 3- + year period. + (iv) Sites.--The Secretary shall conduct the + demonstration program under this paragraph at an + appropriate number (as determined by the + Secretary) of applicable hospitals. The Secretary + shall ensure that such hospitals are + representative of the spectrum of such hospitals + that participate in the Medicare program. + (B) Waiver authority.--The Secretary may waive such + requirements of titles XI and XVIII of the Social + Security Act as may be necessary to carry out the + demonstration program under this paragraph. + (C) Budget neutrality requirement.--In conducting + the demonstration program under this section, the + Secretary shall ensure that the aggregate payments made + by the Secretary do not exceed the amount which the + Secretary would have paid if the demonstration program + under this section was not implemented. + (D) Report.--Not later than 18 months after the + completion of the demonstration program under this + paragraph, the Secretary shall submit to Congress a + report on the demonstration program together with-- + (i) recommendations on the establishment of a + permanent value-based purchasing program under the + Medicare program for applicable hospitals with + respect to inpatient hospital services; and + (ii) recommendations for such other + legislation and administrative action as the + Secretary determines appropriate. + +SEC. 3002. IMPROVEMENTS TO THE PHYSICIAN QUALITY REPORTING SYSTEM. + + (a) Extension.--Section 1848(m) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395w-4(m)) is amended-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 364]] + + (1) in paragraph (1)-- + (A) in subparagraph (A), in the matter preceding + clause (i), by striking ``2010'' and inserting ``2014''; + and + (B) in subparagraph (B)-- + (i) in clause (i), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (ii) in clause (ii), by striking the period at + the end and inserting a semicolon; and + (iii) by adding at the end the following new + clauses: + ``(iii) for 2011, 1.0 percent; and + ``(iv) for 2012, 2013, and 2014, 0.5 + percent.''; + (2) in paragraph (3)-- + (A) in subparagraph (A), in the matter preceding + clause (i), by inserting ``(or, for purposes of + subsection (a)(8), for the quality reporting period for + the year)'' after ``reporting period''; and + (B) in subparagraph (C)(i), by inserting ``, or, for + purposes of subsection (a)(8), for a quality reporting + period for the year'' after ``(a)(5), for a reporting + period for a year''; + (3) in paragraph (5)(E)(iv), by striking ``subsection + (a)(5)(A)'' and inserting ``paragraphs (5)(A) and (8)(A) of + subsection (a)''; and + (4) in paragraph (6)(C)-- + (A) in clause (i)(II), by striking ``, 2009, 2010, + and 2011'' and inserting ``and subsequent years''; and + (B) in clause (iii)-- + (i) by inserting ``(a)(8)'' after ``(a)(5)''; + and + (ii) by striking ``under subparagraph (D)(iii) + of such subsection'' and inserting ``under + subsection (a)(5)(D)(iii) or the quality reporting + period under subsection (a)(8)(D)(iii), + respectively''. + + (b) Incentive Payment Adjustment for Quality Reporting.--Section +1848(a) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4(a)) is amended by +adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(8) Incentives for quality reporting.-- + ``(A) Adjustment.-- + ``(i) In general.--With respect to covered + professional services furnished by an eligible + professional during 2015 or any subsequent year, + if the eligible professional does not + satisfactorily submit data on quality measures for + covered professional services for the quality + reporting period for the year (as determined under + subsection (m)(3)(A)), the fee schedule amount for + such services furnished by such professional + during the year (including the fee schedule amount + for purposes of determining a payment based on + such amount) shall be equal to the applicable + percent of the fee schedule amount that would + otherwise apply to such services under this + subsection (determined after application of + paragraphs (3), (5), and (7), but without regard + to this paragraph). + ``(ii) Applicable percent.--For purposes of + clause (i), the term `applicable percent' means-- + ``(I) for 2015, 98.5 percent; and + ``(II) for 2016 and each subsequent + year, 98 percent. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 365]] + + ``(B) Application.-- + ``(i) Physician reporting system rules.-- + Paragraphs (5), (6), and (8) of subsection (k) + shall apply for purposes of this paragraph in the + same manner as they apply for purposes of such + subsection. + ``(ii) Incentive payment validation rules.-- + Clauses (ii) and (iii) of subsection (m)(5)(D) + shall apply for purposes of this paragraph in a + similar manner as they apply for purposes of such + subsection. + ``(C) Definitions.--For purposes of this paragraph: + ``(i) Eligible professional; covered + professional services.--The terms `eligible + professional' and `covered professional services' + have the meanings given such terms in subsection + (k)(3). + ``(ii) Physician reporting system.--The term + `physician reporting system' means the system + established under subsection (k). + ``(iii) Quality reporting period.--The term + `quality reporting period' means, with respect to + a year, a period specified by the Secretary.''. + + (c) Maintenance of Certification Programs.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1848(k)(4) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4(k)(4)) is amended by inserting ``or + through a Maintenance of Certification program operated by a + specialty body of the American Board of Medical Specialties that + meets the criteria for such a registry'' after ``Database)''. + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendment made by paragraph (1) shall apply for years after + 2010. + + (d) Integration of Physician Quality Reporting and EHR Reporting.-- +Section 1848(m) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4(m)) is +amended by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(7) Integration of physician quality reporting and ehr + reporting. <> --Not later than January 1, 2012, the + Secretary shall develop a plan to integrate reporting on quality + measures under this subsection with reporting requirements under + subsection (o) relating to the meaningful use of electronic + health records. Such integration shall consist of the following: + ``(A) The selection of measures, the reporting of + which would both demonstrate-- + ``(i) meaningful use of an electronic health + record for purposes of subsection (o); and + ``(ii) quality of care furnished to an + individual. + ``(B) Such other activities as specified by the + Secretary.''. + + (e) Feedback.--Section 1848(m)(5) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395w-4(m)(5)) is amended by adding at the end the following new +subparagraph: + ``(H) Feedback.--The Secretary shall provide timely + feedback to eligible professionals on the performance of + the eligible professional with respect to satisfactorily + submitting data on quality measures under this + subsection.''. + + (f) Appeals.--Such section is further amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (E), by striking ``There shall'' and + inserting ``Except as provided in subparagraph (I), there + shall''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 366]] + + (2) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(I) Informal appeals process.-- + <> The Secretary shall, by not later + than January 1, 2011, establish and have in place an + informal process for eligible professionals to seek a + review of the determination that an eligible + professional did not satisfactorily submit data on + quality measures under this subsection.''. + +SEC. 3003. IMPROVEMENTS TO THE PHYSICIAN FEEDBACK PROGRAM. + + (a) In General.--Section 1848(n) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395w-4(n)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1)-- + (A) in subparagraph (A)-- + (i) by striking ``general.--The Secretary'' + and inserting ``general.-- + ``(i) Establishment.--The Secretary''; + (ii) in clause (i), as added by clause (i), by + striking ``the `Program')'' and all that follows + through the period at the end of the second + sentence and inserting ``the `Program').''; and + (iii) by adding at the end the following new + clauses: + ``(ii) Reports on resources.--The Secretary + shall use claims data under this title (and may + use other data) to provide confidential reports to + physicians (and, as determined appropriate by the + Secretary, to groups of physicians) that measure + the resources involved in furnishing care to + individuals under this title. + ``(iii) Inclusion of certain information.--If + determined appropriate by the Secretary, the + Secretary may include information on the quality + of care furnished to individuals under this title + by the physician (or group of physicians) in such + reports.''; and + (B) in subparagraph (B), by striking ``subparagraph + (A)'' and inserting ``subparagraph (A)(ii)''; + (2) in paragraph (4)-- + (A) in the heading, by inserting ``initial'' after + ``focus''; and + (B) in the matter preceding subparagraph (A), by + inserting ``initial'' after ``focus the''; + (3) in paragraph (6), by adding at the end the following new + sentence: ``For adjustments for reports on utilization under + paragraph (9), see subparagraph (D) of such paragraph.''; and + (4) by adding at the end the following new paragraphs: + ``(9) Reports on utilization.-- + ``(A) Development of episode grouper.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall develop + an episode grouper that combines separate but + clinically related items and services into an + episode of care for an individual, as appropriate. + ``(ii) Timeline for development.--The episode + grouper described in subparagraph (A) shall be + developed by not later than January 1, 2012. + ``(iii) Public availability.--The Secretary + shall make the details of the episode grouper + described in subparagraph (A) available to the + public. + ``(iv) Endorsement.--The Secretary shall seek + endorsement of the episode grouper described in + +[[Page 124 STAT. 367]] + + subparagraph (A) by the entity with a contract + under section 1890(a). + ``(B) Reports on utilization.--Effective beginning + with 2012, the Secretary shall provide reports to + physicians that compare, as determined appropriate by + the Secretary, patterns of resource use of the + individual physician to such patterns of other + physicians. + ``(C) Analysis of data.--The Secretary shall, for + purposes of preparing reports under this paragraph, + establish methodologies as appropriate, such as to-- + ``(i) attribute episodes of care, in whole or + in part, to physicians; + ``(ii) identify appropriate physicians for + purposes of comparison under subparagraph (B); and + ``(iii) aggregate episodes of care attributed + to a physician under clause (i) into a composite + measure per individual. + ``(D) Data adjustment.--In preparing reports under + this paragraph, the Secretary shall make appropriate + adjustments, including adjustments-- + ``(i) to account for differences in + socioeconomic and demographic characteristics, + ethnicity, and health status of individuals (such + as to recognize that less healthy individuals may + require more intensive interventions); and + ``(ii) to eliminate the effect of geographic + adjustments in payment rates (as described in + subsection (e)). + ``(E) Public availability of methodology.--The + Secretary shall make available to the public-- + ``(i) the methodologies established under + subparagraph (C); + ``(ii) information regarding any adjustments + made to data under subparagraph (D); and + ``(iii) aggregate reports with respect to + physicians. + ``(F) Definition of physician.--In this paragraph: + ``(i) In general.--The term `physician' has + the meaning given that term in section 1861(r)(1). + ``(ii) Treatment of groups.--Such term + includes, as the Secretary determines appropriate, + a group of physicians. + ``(G) Limitations on review.--There shall be no + administrative or judicial review under section 1869, + section 1878, or otherwise of the establishment of the + methodology under subparagraph (C), including the + determination of an episode of care under such + methodology. + ``(10) Coordination with other value-based purchasing + reforms.--The Secretary shall coordinate the Program with the + value-based payment modifier established under subsection (p) + and, as the Secretary determines appropriate, other similar + provisions of this title.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendment.--Section 1890(b) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395aaa(b)) is amended by adding at the end the following +new paragraph: + ``(6) Review and endorsement of episode grouper under the + physician feedback program.--The entity shall provide for the + review and, as appropriate, the endorsement of the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 368]] + + episode grouper developed by the Secretary under section + 1848(n)(9)(A). Such review shall be conducted on an expedited + basis.''. + +SEC. 3004. QUALITY REPORTING FOR LONG-TERM CARE HOSPITALS, INPATIENT + REHABILITATION HOSPITALS, AND HOSPICE PROGRAMS. + + (a) Long-term Care Hospitals.--Section 1886(m) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(m)), as amended by section 3401(c), is +amended by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(5) Quality reporting.-- + ``(A) Reduction in update for failure to report.-- + ``(i) In general.--Under the system described + in paragraph (1), for rate year 2014 and each + subsequent rate year, in the case of a long-term + care hospital that does not submit data to the + Secretary in accordance with subparagraph (C) with + respect to such a rate year, any annual update to + a standard Federal rate for discharges for the + hospital during the rate year, and after + application of paragraph (3), shall be reduced by + 2 percentage points. + ``(ii) Special rule.--The application of this + subparagraph may result in such annual update + being less than 0.0 for a rate year, and may + result in payment rates under the system described + in paragraph (1) for a rate year being less than + such payment rates for the preceding rate year. + ``(B) Noncumulative application.--Any reduction + under subparagraph (A) shall apply only with respect to + the rate year involved and the Secretary shall not take + into account such reduction in computing the payment + amount under the system described in paragraph (1) for a + subsequent rate year. + ``(C) Submission of quality data.--For rate year + 2014 and each subsequent rate year, each long-term care + hospital shall submit to the Secretary data on quality + measures specified under subparagraph (D). Such data + shall be submitted in a form and manner, and at a time, + specified by the Secretary for purposes of this + subparagraph. + ``(D) Quality measures.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), any + measure specified by the Secretary under this + subparagraph must have been endorsed by the entity + with a contract under section 1890(a). + ``(ii) Exception.--In the case of a specified + area or medical topic determined appropriate by + the Secretary for which a feasible and practical + measure has not been endorsed by the entity with a + contract under section 1890(a), the Secretary may + specify a measure that is not so endorsed as long + as due consideration is given to measures that + have been endorsed or adopted by a consensus + organization identified by the Secretary. + ``(iii) Time frame.--Not later than October 1, + 2012, the Secretary shall publish the measures + selected under this subparagraph that will be + applicable with respect to rate year 2014. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 369]] + + ``(E) Public availability of data + submitted. <> --The Secretary shall + establish procedures for making data submitted under + subparagraph (C) available to the public. + Such <> procedures shall ensure that a + long-term care hospital has the opportunity to review + the data that is to be made public with respect to the + hospital prior to such data being made + public. <> The Secretary shall + report quality measures that relate to services + furnished in inpatient settings in long-term care + hospitals on the Internet website of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services.''. + + (b) Inpatient Rehabilitation Hospitals.--Section 1886(j) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(j)) is amended-- + (1) by redesignating paragraph (7) as paragraph (8); and + (2) by inserting after paragraph (6) the following new + paragraph: + ``(7) Quality reporting.-- + ``(A) Reduction in update for failure to report.-- + ``(i) In general.--For purposes of fiscal year + 2014 and each subsequent fiscal year, in the case + of a rehabilitation facility that does not submit + data to the Secretary in accordance with + subparagraph (C) with respect to such a fiscal + year, after determining the increase factor + described in paragraph (3)(C), and after + application of paragraph (3)(D), the Secretary + shall reduce such increase factor for payments for + discharges occurring during such fiscal year by 2 + percentage points. + ``(ii) Special rule.--The application of this + subparagraph may result in the increase factor + described in paragraph (3)(C) being less than 0.0 + for a fiscal year, and may result in payment rates + under this subsection for a fiscal year being less + than such payment rates for the preceding fiscal + year. + ``(B) Noncumulative application.--Any reduction + under subparagraph (A) shall apply only with respect to + the fiscal year involved and the Secretary shall not + take into account such reduction in computing the + payment amount under this subsection for a subsequent + fiscal year. + ``(C) Submission of quality data.--For fiscal year + 2014 and each subsequent rate year, each rehabilitation + facility shall submit to the Secretary data on quality + measures specified under subparagraph (D). Such data + shall be submitted in a form and manner, and at a time, + specified by the Secretary for purposes of this + subparagraph. + ``(D) Quality measures.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), any + measure specified by the Secretary under this + subparagraph must have been endorsed by the entity + with a contract under section 1890(a). + ``(ii) Exception.--In the case of a specified + area or medical topic determined appropriate by + the Secretary for which a feasible and practical + measure has not been endorsed by the entity with a + contract under section 1890(a), the Secretary may + specify a measure that is not so endorsed as long + as due consideration is given to measures that + have been endorsed or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 370]] + + adopted by a consensus organization identified by + the Secretary. + ``(iii) Time frame. <> -- + Not later than October 1, 2012, the Secretary + shall publish the measures selected under this + subparagraph that will be applicable with respect + to fiscal year 2014. + ``(E) Public availability of data + submitted. <> --The Secretary shall + establish procedures for making data submitted under + subparagraph (C) available to the public. + Such <> procedures shall ensure that a + rehabilitation facility has the opportunity to review + the data that is to be made public with respect to the + facility prior to such data being made + public. <> The Secretary shall + report quality measures that relate to services + furnished in inpatient settings in rehabilitation + facilities on the Internet website of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services.''. + + (c) Hospice Programs.--Section 1814(i) of the Social Security Act +(42 U.S.C. 1395f(i)) is amended-- + (1) by redesignating paragraph (5) as paragraph (6); and + (2) by inserting after paragraph (4) the following new + paragraph: + ``(5) Quality reporting.-- + ``(A) Reduction in update for failure to report.-- + ``(i) In general.--For purposes of fiscal year + 2014 and each subsequent fiscal year, in the case + of a hospice program that does not submit data to + the Secretary in accordance with subparagraph (C) + with respect to such a fiscal year, after + determining the market basket percentage increase + under paragraph (1)(C)(ii)(VII) or paragraph + (1)(C)(iii), as applicable, and after application + of paragraph (1)(C)(iv), with respect to the + fiscal year, the Secretary shall reduce such + market basket percentage increase by 2 percentage + points. + ``(ii) Special rule.--The application of this + subparagraph may result in the market basket + percentage increase under paragraph + (1)(C)(ii)(VII) or paragraph (1)(C)(iii), as + applicable, being less than 0.0 for a fiscal year, + and may result in payment rates under this + subsection for a fiscal year being less than such + payment rates for the preceding fiscal year. + ``(B) Noncumulative application.--Any reduction + under subparagraph (A) shall apply only with respect to + the fiscal year involved and the Secretary shall not + take into account such reduction in computing the + payment amount under this subsection for a subsequent + fiscal year. + ``(C) Submission of quality data.--For fiscal year + 2014 and each subsequent fiscal year, each hospice + program shall submit to the Secretary data on quality + measures specified under subparagraph (D). Such data + shall be submitted in a form and manner, and at a time, + specified by the Secretary for purposes of this + subparagraph. + ``(D) Quality measures.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), any + measure specified by the Secretary under this + subparagraph must have been endorsed by the entity + with a contract under section 1890(a). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 371]] + + ``(ii) Exception.--In the case of a specified + area or medical topic determined appropriate by + the Secretary for which a feasible and practical + measure has not been endorsed by the entity with a + contract under section 1890(a), the Secretary may + specify a measure that is not so endorsed as long + as due consideration is given to measures that + have been endorsed or adopted by a consensus + organization identified by the Secretary. + ``(iii) Time frame. <> -- + Not later than October 1, 2012, the Secretary + shall publish the measures selected under this + subparagraph that will be applicable with respect + to fiscal year 2014. + ``(E) Public availability of data submitted.-- + <> The Secretary shall establish + procedures for making data submitted under subparagraph + (C) available to the public. + Such <> procedures shall ensure that a + hospice program has the opportunity to review the data + that is to be made public with respect to the hospice + program prior to such data being made + public. <> The Secretary shall + report quality measures that relate to hospice care + provided by hospice programs on the Internet website of + the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services.''. + +SEC. 3005. QUALITY REPORTING FOR PPS-EXEMPT CANCER HOSPITALS. + + Section 1866 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395cc) is +amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)(1)-- + (A) in subparagraph (U), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) in subparagraph (V), by striking the period at + the end and inserting ``, and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(W) in the case of a hospital described in section + 1886(d)(1)(B)(v), to report quality data to the + Secretary in accordance with subsection (k).''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(k) Quality Reporting by Cancer Hospitals.-- + ``(1) In general.--For purposes of fiscal year 2014 and each + subsequent fiscal year, a hospital described in section + 1886(d)(1)(B)(v) shall submit data to the Secretary in + accordance with paragraph (2) with respect to such a fiscal + year. + ``(2) Submission of quality data.--For fiscal year 2014 and + each subsequent fiscal year, each hospital described in such + section shall submit to the Secretary data on quality measures + specified under paragraph (3). Such data shall be submitted in a + form and manner, and at a time, specified by the Secretary for + purposes of this subparagraph. + ``(3) Quality measures.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), any + measure specified by the Secretary under this paragraph + must have been endorsed by the entity with a contract + under section 1890(a). + ``(B) Exception.--In the case of a specified area or + medical topic determined appropriate by the Secretary + for which a feasible and practical measure has not been + +[[Page 124 STAT. 372]] + + endorsed by the entity with a contract under section + 1890(a), the Secretary may specify a measure that is not + so endorsed as long as due consideration is given to + measures that have been endorsed or adopted by a + consensus organization identified by the Secretary. + ``(C) Time frame. <> --Not later + than October 1, 2012, the Secretary shall publish the + measures selected under this paragraph that will be + applicable with respect to fiscal year 2014. + ``(4) Public availability of data + submitted. <> --The Secretary shall establish + procedures for making data submitted under paragraph (4) + available to the public. <> Such procedures shall + ensure that a hospital described in section 1886(d)(1)(B)(v) has + the opportunity to review the data that is to be made public + with respect to the hospital prior to such data being made + public. <> The Secretary shall report + quality measures of process, structure, outcome, patients' + perspective on care, efficiency, and costs of care that relate + to services furnished in such hospitals on the Internet website + of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services.''. + +SEC. 3006. PLANS FOR A VALUE-BASED PURCHASING PROGRAM FOR SKILLED + NURSING FACILITIES AND HOME HEALTH AGENCIES. + + (a) Skilled Nursing Facilities.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall develop + a plan to implement a value-based purchasing program for + payments under the Medicare program under title XVIII of the + Social Security Act for skilled nursing facilities (as defined + in section 1819(a) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(a))). + (2) Details.--In developing the plan under paragraph (1), + the Secretary shall consider the following issues: + (A) The ongoing development, selection, and + modification process for measures (including under + section 1890 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395aaa) and section 1890A such Act, as added by section + 3014), to the extent feasible and practicable, of all + dimensions of quality and efficiency in skilled nursing + facilities. + (i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), any + measure specified by the Secretary under + subparagraph (A)(iii) must have been endorsed by + the entity with a contract under section 1890(a). + (ii) Exception.--In the case of a specified + area or medical topic determined appropriate by + the Secretary for which a feasible and practical + measure has not been endorsed by the entity with a + contract under section 1890(a), the Secretary may + specify a measure that is not so endorsed as long + as due consideration is given to measures that + have been endorsed or adopted by a consensus + organization identified by the Secretary. + (B) The reporting, collection, and validation of + quality data. + (C) The structure of value-based payment + adjustments, including the determination of thresholds + or improvements in quality that would substantiate a + payment adjustment, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 373]] + + the size of such payments, and the sources of funding + for the value-based bonus payments. + (D) Methods for the public disclosure of information + on the performance of skilled nursing facilities. + (E) Any other issues determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + (3) Consultation.--In developing the plan under paragraph + (1), the Secretary shall-- + (A) consult with relevant affected parties; and + (B) consider experience with such demonstrations + that the Secretary determines are relevant to the value- + based purchasing program described in paragraph (1). + (4) Report to congress.--Not later than October 1, 2011, the + Secretary shall submit to Congress a report containing the plan + developed under paragraph (1). + + (b) Home Health Agencies.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall develop + a plan to implement a value-based purchasing program for + payments under the Medicare program under title XVIII of the + Social Security Act for home health agencies (as defined in + section 1861(o) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(o))). + (2) Details.--In developing the plan under paragraph (1), + the Secretary shall consider the following issues: + (A) The ongoing development, selection, and + modification process for measures (including under + section 1890 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395aaa) and section 1890A such Act, as added by section + 3014), to the extent feasible and practicable, of all + dimensions of quality and efficiency in home health + agencies. + (B) The reporting, collection, and validation of + quality data. + (C) The structure of value-based payment + adjustments, including the determination of thresholds + or improvements in quality that would substantiate a + payment adjustment, the size of such payments, and the + sources of funding for the value-based bonus payments. + (D) Methods for the public disclosure of information + on the performance of home health agencies. + (E) Any other issues determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + (3) Consultation.--In developing the plan under paragraph + (1), the Secretary shall-- + (A) consult with relevant affected parties; and + (B) consider experience with such demonstrations + that the Secretary determines are relevant to the value- + based purchasing program described in paragraph (1). + (4) Report to congress.--Not later than October 1, 2011, the + Secretary shall submit to Congress a report containing the plan + developed under paragraph (1). + +SEC. 3007. VALUE-BASED PAYMENT MODIFIER UNDER THE PHYSICIAN FEE + SCHEDULE. + + Section 1848 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4) is +amended-- + (1) in subsection (b)(1), by inserting ``subject to + subsection (p),'' after ``1998,''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 374]] + + (2) by adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(p) Establishment of Value-based Payment Modifier.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall establish a payment + modifier that provides for differential payment to a physician + or a group of physicians under the fee schedule established + under subsection (b) based upon the quality of care furnished + compared to cost (as determined under paragraphs (2) and (3), + respectively) during a performance period. Such payment modifier + shall be separate from the geographic adjustment factors + established under subsection (e). + ``(2) Quality.-- + ``(A) In general.--For purposes of paragraph (1), + quality of care shall be evaluated, to the extent + practicable, based on a composite of measures of the + quality of care furnished (as established by the + Secretary under subparagraph (B)). + ``(B) Measures.-- + ``(i) The Secretary shall establish + appropriate measures of the quality of care + furnished by a physician or group of physicians to + individuals enrolled under this part, such as + measures that reflect health outcomes. Such + measures shall be risk adjusted as determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(ii) The Secretary shall seek endorsement of + the measures established under this subparagraph + by the entity with a contract under section + 1890(a). + ``(3) Costs.--For purposes of paragraph (1), costs shall be + evaluated, to the extent practicable, based on a composite of + appropriate measures of costs established by the Secretary (such + as the composite measure under the methodology established under + subsection (n)(9)(C)(iii)) that eliminate the effect of + geographic adjustments in payment rates (as described in + subsection (e)), and take into account risk factors (such as + socioeconomic and demographic characteristics, ethnicity, and + health status of individuals (such as to recognize that less + healthy individuals may require more intensive interventions) + and other factors determined appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(4) Implementation.-- + ``(A) Publication of measures, dates of + implementation, performance period.-- + <> Not later than January 1, 2012, the + Secretary shall publish the following: + ``(i) The measures of quality of care and + costs established under paragraphs (2) and (3), + respectively. + ``(ii) The dates for implementation of the + payment modifier (as determined under subparagraph + (B)). + ``(iii) The initial performance period (as + specified under subparagraph (B)(ii)). + ``(B) Deadlines for implementation.-- + ``(i) Initial implementation.--Subject to the + preceding provisions of this subparagraph, the + Secretary shall begin implementing the payment + modifier established under this subsection through + the rulemaking process during 2013 for the + physician fee schedule established under + subsection (b). + ``(ii) Initial performance period.-- + ``(I) In general.--The Secretary + shall specify an initial performance + period for application of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 375]] + + the payment modifier established under + this subsection with respect to 2015. + ``(II) Provision of information + during initial performance period.-- + During the initial performance period, + the Secretary shall, to the extent + practicable, provide information to + physicians and groups of physicians + about the quality of care furnished by + the physician or group of physicians to + individuals enrolled under this part + compared to cost (as determined under + paragraphs (2) and (3), respectively) + with respect to the performance period. + ``(iii) Application.--The Secretary shall + apply the payment modifier established under this + subsection for items and services furnished-- + ``(I) <> + beginning on January 1, 2015, with + respect to specific physicians and + groups of physicians the Secretary + determines appropriate; and + ``(II) <> + beginning not later than January 1, + 2017, with respect to all physicians and + groups of physicians. + ``(C) Budget neutrality.--The payment modifier + established under this subsection shall be implemented + in a budget neutral manner. + ``(5) Systems-based care.-- <> The + Secretary shall, as appropriate, apply the payment modifier + established under this subsection in a manner that promotes + systems-based care. + ``(6) Consideration of special circumstances of certain + providers.--In applying the payment modifier under this + subsection, the Secretary shall, as appropriate, take into + account the special circumstances of physicians or groups of + physicians in rural areas and other underserved communities. + ``(7) Application.-- <> For purposes of + the initial application of the payment modifier established + under this subsection during the period beginning on January 1, + 2015, and ending on December 31, 2016, the term `physician' has + the meaning given such term in section + 1861(r). <> On or after + January 1, 2017, the Secretary may apply this subsection to + eligible professionals (as defined in subsection (k)(3)(B)) as + the Secretary determines appropriate. + ``(8) Definitions.--For purposes of this subsection: + ``(A) Costs.--The term `costs' means expenditures + per individual as determined appropriate by the + Secretary. In making the determination under the + preceding sentence, the Secretary may take into account + the amount of growth in expenditures per individual for + a physician compared to the amount of such growth for + other physicians. + ``(B) Performance period.--The term `performance + period' means a period specified by the Secretary. + ``(9) Coordination with other value-based purchasing + reforms.-- <> The Secretary shall + coordinate the value-based payment modifier established under + this subsection with the Physician Feedback Program under + subsection (n) and, as the Secretary determines appropriate, + other similar provisions of this title. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 376]] + + ``(10) Limitations on review.--There shall be no + administrative or judicial review under section 1869, section + 1878, or otherwise of-- + ``(A) the establishment of the value-based payment + modifier under this subsection; + ``(B) the evaluation of quality of care under + paragraph (2), including the establishment of + appropriate measures of the quality of care under + paragraph (2)(B); + ``(C) the evaluation of costs under paragraph (3), + including the establishment of appropriate measures of + costs under such paragraph; + ``(D) the dates for implementation of the value- + based payment modifier; + ``(E) the specification of the initial performance + period and any other performance period under paragraphs + (4)(B)(ii) and (8)(B), respectively; + ``(F) the application of the value-based payment + modifier under paragraph (7); and + ``(G) the determination of costs under paragraph + (8)(A).''. + +SEC. 3008. PAYMENT ADJUSTMENT FOR CONDITIONS ACQUIRED IN HOSPITALS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1886 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395ww), as amended by section 3001, is amended by adding at the end the +following new subsection: + ``(p) Adjustment to Hospital Payments for Hospital Acquired +Conditions.-- + ``(1) In general.--In order to provide an incentive for + applicable hospitals to reduce hospital acquired conditions + under this title, with respect to discharges from an applicable + hospital occurring during fiscal year 2015 or a subsequent + fiscal year, the amount of payment under this section or section + 1814(b)(3), as applicable, for such discharges during the fiscal + year shall be equal to 99 percent of the amount of payment that + would otherwise apply to such discharges under this section or + section 1814(b)(3) (determined after the application of + subsections (o) and (q) and section 1814(l)(4) but without + regard to this subsection). + ``(2) Applicable hospitals.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--For + purposes of this subsection, the term `applicable + hospital' means a subsection (d) hospital that meets the + criteria described in subparagraph (B). + ``(B) Criteria described.-- + ``(i) <> In general.--The + criteria described in this subparagraph, with + respect to a subsection (d) hospital, is that the + subsection (d) hospital is in the top quartile of + all subsection (d) hospitals, relative to the + national average, of hospital acquired conditions + during the applicable period, as determined by the + Secretary. + ``(ii) Risk adjustment.--In carrying out + clause (i), the Secretary shall establish and + apply an appropriate risk adjustment methodology. + ``(C) Exemption. <> --In + the case of a hospital that is paid under section + 1814(b)(3), the Secretary may exempt such hospital from + the application of this subsection if the State which is + paid under such section submits an + +[[Page 124 STAT. 377]] + + annual report to the Secretary describing how a similar + program in the State for a participating hospital or + hospitals achieves or surpasses the measured results in + terms of patient health outcomes and cost savings + established under this subsection. + ``(3) <> Hospital acquired conditions.-- + For purposes of this subsection, the term `hospital acquired + condition' means a condition identified for purposes of + subsection (d)(4)(D)(iv) and any other condition determined + appropriate by the Secretary that an individual acquires during + a stay in an applicable hospital, as determined by the + Secretary. + ``(4) Applicable period.--In this subsection, the term + `applicable period' means, with respect to a fiscal year, a + period specified by the Secretary. + ``(5) Reporting to hospitals.--Prior to fiscal year 2015 and + each subsequent fiscal year, the Secretary shall provide + confidential reports to applicable hospitals with respect to + hospital acquired conditions of the applicable hospital during + the applicable period. + ``(6) Reporting hospital specific information.-- + ``(A) In general. <> -- + The Secretary shall make information available to the + public regarding hospital acquired conditions of each + applicable hospital. + ``(B) Opportunity to review and submit + corrections.--The Secretary shall ensure that an + applicable hospital has the opportunity to review, and + submit corrections for, the information to be made + public with respect to the hospital under subparagraph + (A) prior to such information being made public. + ``(C) Website.--Such information shall be posted on + the Hospital Compare Internet website in an easily + understandable format. + ``(7) Limitations on review.--There shall be no + administrative or judicial review under section 1869, section + 1878, or otherwise of the following: + ``(A) The criteria described in paragraph (2)(A). + ``(B) The specification of hospital acquired + conditions under paragraph (3). + ``(C) The specification of the applicable period + under paragraph (4). + ``(D) The provision of reports to applicable + hospitals under paragraph (5) and the information made + available to the public under paragraph (6).''. + + (b) Study and Report on Expansion of Healthcare Acquired Conditions +Policy to Other Providers.-- + (1) Study.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services shall + conduct a study on expanding the healthcare acquired conditions + policy under subsection (d)(4)(D) of section 1886 of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww) to payments made to other + facilities under the Medicare program under title XVIII of the + Social Security Act, including such payments made to inpatient + rehabilitation facilities, long-term care hospitals (as + described in subsection(d)(1)(B)(iv) of such section), hospital + outpatient departments, and other hospitals excluded from the + inpatient prospective payment system under such section, skilled + nursing facilities, ambulatory surgical centers, and health + clinics. Such study shall include an analysis of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 378]] + + how such policies could impact quality of patient care, patient + safety, and spending under the Medicare program. + (2) Report.--Not later than January 1, 2012, the Secretary + shall submit to Congress a report containing the results of the + study conducted under paragraph (1), together with + recommendations for such legislation and administrative action + as the Secretary determines appropriate. + + PART II--NATIONAL STRATEGY TO IMPROVE HEALTH CARE QUALITY + +SEC. 3011. NATIONAL STRATEGY. + + Title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 241 et seq.) +is amended by adding at the end the following: + + ``PART S--HEALTH CARE QUALITY PROGRAMS + + ``Subpart I--National Strategy for Quality Improvement in Health Care + +``SEC. 399HH. <> NATIONAL STRATEGY FOR QUALITY + IMPROVEMENT IN HEALTH CARE. + + ``(a) Establishment of National Strategy and Priorities.-- + ``(1) National strategy.--The Secretary, through a + transparent collaborative process, shall establish a national + strategy to improve the delivery of health care services, + patient health outcomes, and population health. + ``(2) Identification of priorities.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall identify + national priorities for improvement in developing the + strategy under paragraph (1). + ``(B) Requirements.--The Secretary shall ensure that + priorities identified under subparagraph (A) will-- + ``(i) have the greatest potential for + improving the health outcomes, efficiency, and + patient-centeredness of health care for all + populations, including children and vulnerable + populations; + ``(ii) identify areas in the delivery of + health care services that have the potential for + rapid improvement in the quality and efficiency of + patient care; + ``(iii) address gaps in quality, efficiency, + comparative effectiveness information, and health + outcomes measures and data aggregation techniques; + ``(iv) improve Federal payment policy to + emphasize quality and efficiency; + ``(v) enhance the use of health care data to + improve quality, efficiency, transparency, and + outcomes; + ``(vi) address the health care provided to + patients with high-cost chronic diseases; + ``(vii) improve research and dissemination of + strategies and best practices to improve patient + safety and reduce medical errors, preventable + admissions and readmissions, and health care- + associated infections; + ``(viii) reduce health disparities across + health disparity populations (as defined in + section 485E) and geographic areas; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 379]] + + ``(ix) address other areas as determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(C) Considerations.--In identifying priorities + under subparagraph (A), the Secretary shall take into + consideration the recommendations submitted by the + entity with a contract under section 1890(a) of the + Social Security Act and other stakeholders. + ``(D) Coordination with state agencies.--The + Secretary shall collaborate, coordinate, and consult + with State agencies responsible for administering the + Medicaid program under title XIX of the Social Security + Act and the Children's Health Insurance Program under + title XXI of such Act with respect to developing and + disseminating strategies, goals, models, and timetables + that are consistent with the national priorities + identified under subparagraph (A). + + ``(b) Strategic Plan.-- + ``(1) In general.--The national strategy shall include a + comprehensive strategic plan to achieve the priorities described + in subsection (a). + ``(2) Requirements.--The strategic plan shall include + provisions for addressing, at a minimum, the following: + ``(A) Coordination among agencies within the + Department, which shall include steps to minimize + duplication of efforts and utilization of common quality + measures, where available. Such common quality measures + shall be measures identified by the Secretary under + section 1139A or 1139B of the Social Security Act or + endorsed under section 1890 of such Act. + ``(B) Agency-specific strategic plans to achieve + national priorities. + ``(C) Establishment of annual benchmarks for each + relevant agency to achieve national priorities. + ``(D) A process for regular reporting by the + agencies to the Secretary on the implementation of the + strategic plan. + ``(E) Strategies to align public and private payers + with regard to quality and patient safety efforts. + ``(F) Incorporating quality improvement and + measurement in the strategic plan for health information + technology required by the American Recovery and + Reinvestment Act of 2009 (Public Law 111-5). + + ``(c) Periodic Update of National Strategy.--The Secretary shall +update the national strategy not less than annually. Any such update +shall include a review of short- and long-term goals. + ``(d) Submission and Availability of National Strategy and +Updates.-- + ``(1) Deadline for initial submission of national + strategy.--Not later than January 1, 2011, the Secretary shall + submit to the relevant committees of Congress the national + strategy described in subsection (a). + ``(2) Updates.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall submit to the + relevant committees of Congress an annual update to the + strategy described in paragraph (1). + ``(B) Information submitted.--Each update submitted + under subparagraph (A) shall include-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 380]] + + ``(i) a review of the short- and long-term + goals of the national strategy and any gaps in + such strategy; + ``(ii) an analysis of the progress, or lack of + progress, in meeting such goals and any barriers + to such progress; + ``(iii) the information reported under section + 1139A of the Social Security Act, consistent with + the reporting requirements of such section; and + ``(iv) in the case of an update required to be + submitted on or after January 1, 2014, the + information reported under section 1139B(b)(4) of + the Social Security Act, consistent with the + reporting requirements of such section. + ``(C) Satisfaction of other reporting + requirements.--Compliance with the requirements of + clauses (iii) and (iv) of subparagraph (B) shall satisfy + the reporting requirements under sections 1139A(a)(6) + and 1139B(b)(4), respectively, of the Social Security + Act. + + ``(e) Health Care Quality Internet Website.-- +<> Not later than January 1, 2011, +the Secretary shall create an Internet website to make public +information regarding-- + ``(1) the national priorities for health care quality + improvement established under subsection (a)(2); + ``(2) the agency-specific strategic plans for health care + quality described in subsection (b)(2)(B); and + ``(3) other information, as the Secretary determines to be + appropriate.''. + +SEC. 3012. <> INTERAGENCY WORKING GROUP ON + HEALTH CARE QUALITY. + + (a) <> In General.--The President +shall convene a working group to be known as the Interagency Working +Group on Health Care Quality (referred to in this section as the +``Working Group''). + + (b) Goals.--The goals of the Working Group shall be to achieve the +following: + (1) Collaboration, cooperation, and consultation between + Federal departments and agencies with respect to developing and + disseminating strategies, goals, models, and timetables that are + consistent with the national priorities identified under section + 399HH(a)(2) of the Public Health Service Act (as added by + section 3011). + (2) Avoidance of inefficient duplication of quality + improvement efforts and resources, where practicable, and a + streamlined process for quality reporting and compliance + requirements. + (3) Assess alignment of quality efforts in the public sector + with private sector initiatives. + + (c) Composition.-- + (1) In general.--The Working Group shall be composed of + senior level representatives of-- + (A) the Department of Health and Human Services; + (B) the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services; + (C) the National Institutes of Health; + (D) the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention; + (E) the Food and Drug Administration; + (F) the Health Resources and Services + Administration; + (G) the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 381]] + + (H) the Office of the National Coordinator for + Health Information Technology; + (I) the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services + Administration; + (J) the Administration for Children and Families; + (K) the Department of Commerce; + (L) the Office of Management and Budget; + (M) the United States Coast Guard; + (N) the Federal Bureau of Prisons; + (O) the National Highway Traffic Safety + Administration; + (P) the Federal Trade Commission; + (Q) the Social Security Administration; + (R) the Department of Labor; + (S) the United States Office of Personnel + Management; + (T) the Department of Defense; + (U) the Department of Education; + (V) the Department of Veterans Affairs; + (W) the Veterans Health Administration; and + (X) any other Federal agencies and departments with + activities relating to improving health care quality and + safety, as determined by the President. + (2) Chair and vice-chair.-- + (A) Chair.--The Working Group shall be chaired by + the Secretary of Health and Human Services. + (B) Vice chair.--Members of the Working Group, other + than the Secretary of Health and Human Services, shall + serve as Vice Chair of the Group on a rotating basis, as + determined by the Group. + + (d) Report to Congress.-- <> Not later than December 31, 2010, and annually thereafter, +the Working Group shall submit to the relevant Committees of Congress, +and make public on an Internet website, a report describing the progress +and recommendations of the Working Group in meeting the goals described +in subsection (b). + +SEC. 3013. QUALITY MEASURE DEVELOPMENT. + + (a) Public Health Service Act.--Title IX of the Public Health +Service Act (42 U.S.C. 299 et seq.) is amended-- + (1) by redesignating part D as part E; + (2) <> by redesignating sections + 931 through 938 as sections 941 through 948, respectively; + (3) in section 948(1), as so redesignated, by striking + ``931'' and inserting ``941''; and + (4) by inserting after section 926 the following: + + ``PART D--HEALTH CARE QUALITY IMPROVEMENT + + ``Subpart I--Quality Measure Development + +``SEC. 931. <> QUALITY MEASURE DEVELOPMENT. + + ``(a) Quality Measure.-- <> In this subpart, the +term `quality measure' means a standard for measuring the performance +and improvement of population health or of health plans, providers of +services, and other clinicians in the delivery of health care services. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 382]] + + ``(b) Identification of Quality Measures.-- + ``(1) <> Identification.--The + Secretary, in consultation with the Director of the Agency for + Healthcare Research and Quality and the Administrator of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, shall identify, not + less often than triennially, gaps where no quality measures + exist and existing quality measures that need improvement, + updating, or expansion, consistent with the national strategy + under section 399HH, to the extent available, for use in Federal + health programs. In identifying such gaps and existing quality + measures that need improvement, the Secretary shall take into + consideration-- + ``(A) the gaps identified by the entity with a + contract under section 1890(a) of the Social Security + Act and other stakeholders; + ``(B) quality measures identified by the pediatric + quality measures program under section 1139A of the + Social Security Act; and + ``(C) quality measures identified through the + Medicaid Quality Measurement Program under section 1139B + of the Social Security Act. + ``(2) Publication.-- <> The Secretary shall make available to the + public on an Internet website a report on any gaps identified + under paragraph (1) and the process used to make such + identification. + + ``(c) Grants or Contracts for Quality Measure Development.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall award grants, + contracts, or intergovernmental agreements to eligible entities + for purposes of developing, improving, updating, or expanding + quality measures identified under subsection (b). + ``(2) Prioritization in the development of quality + measures.--In awarding grants, contracts, or agreements under + this subsection, the Secretary shall give priority to the + development of quality measures that allow the assessment of-- + ``(A) health outcomes and functional status of + patients; + ``(B) the management and coordination of health care + across episodes of care and care transitions for + patients across the continuum of providers, health care + settings, and health plans; + ``(C) the experience, quality, and use of + information provided to and used by patients, + caregivers, and authorized representatives to inform + decisionmaking about treatment options, including the + use of shared decisionmaking tools and preference + sensitive care (as defined in section 936); + ``(D) the meaningful use of health information + technology; + ``(E) the safety, effectiveness, patient- + centeredness, appropriateness, and timeliness of care; + ``(F) the efficiency of care; + ``(G) the equity of health services and health + disparities across health disparity populations (as + defined in section 485E) and geographic areas; + ``(H) patient experience and satisfaction; + ``(I) the use of innovative strategies and + methodologies identified under section 933; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 383]] + + ``(J) other areas determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + ``(3) Eligible entities.--To be eligible for a grant or + contract under this subsection, an entity shall-- + ``(A) have demonstrated expertise and capacity in + the development and evaluation of quality measures; + ``(B) have adopted procedures to include in the + quality measure development process-- + ``(i) the views of those providers or payers + whose performance will be assessed by the measure; + and + ``(ii) the views of other parties who also + will use the quality measures (such as patients, + consumers, and health care purchasers); + ``(C) collaborate with the entity with a contract + under section 1890(a) of the Social Security Act and + other stakeholders, as practicable, and the Secretary so + that quality measures developed by the eligible entity + will meet the requirements to be considered for + endorsement by the entity with a contract under such + section 1890(a); + ``(D) have transparent policies regarding governance + and conflicts of interest; and + ``(E) submit an application to the Secretary at such + time and in such manner, as the Secretary may require. + ``(4) <> Use of funds.--An entity that + receives a grant, contract, or agreement under this subsection + shall use such award to develop quality measures that meet the + following requirements: + ``(A) Such measures support measures required to be + reported under the Social Security Act, where + applicable, and in support of gaps and existing quality + measures that need improvement, as described in + subsection (b)(1)(A). + ``(B) Such measures support measures developed under + section 1139A of the Social Security Act and the + Medicaid Quality Measurement Program under section 1139B + of such Act, where applicable. + ``(C) To the extent practicable, data on such + quality measures is able to be collected using health + information technologies. + ``(D) Each quality measure is free of charge to + users of such measure. + ``(E) Each quality measure is publicly available on + an Internet website. + + ``(d) Other Activities by the Secretary.--The Secretary may use +amounts available under this section to update and test, where +applicable, quality measures endorsed by the entity with a contract +under section 1890(a) of the Social Security Act or adopted by the +Secretary. + ``(e) Coordination of Grants.--The Secretary shall ensure that +grants or contracts awarded under this section are coordinated with +grants and contracts awarded under sections 1139A(5) and 1139B(4)(A) of +the Social Security Act.''. + (b) Social Security Act.--Section 1890A of the Social Security Act, +as added by section 3014(b), is amended by adding at the end the +following new subsection: + ``(e) Development of Quality Measures.--The Administrator of the +Center for Medicare & Medicaid Services shall through contracts develop +quality measures (as determined appropriate by + +[[Page 124 STAT. 384]] + +the Administrator) for use under this Act. In developing such measures, +the Administrator shall consult with the Director of the Agency for +Healthcare Research and Quality.''. + (c) Funding.--There are authorized to be appropriated to the +Secretary of Health and Human Services to carry out this section, +$75,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014. Of the amounts +appropriated under the preceding sentence in a fiscal year, not less +than 50 percent of such amounts shall be used pursuant to subsection (e) +of section 1890A of the Social Security Act, as added by subsection (b), +with respect to programs under such Act. Amounts appropriated under this +subsection for a fiscal year shall remain available until expended. + +SEC. 3014. QUALITY MEASUREMENT. + + (a) New Duties for Consensus-based Entity.-- + (1) Multi-stakeholder group input.--Section 1890(b) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395aaa(b)), as amended by + section 3003, is amended by adding at the end the following new + paragraphs: + ``(7) Convening multi-stakeholder groups.-- + ``(A) In general.--The entity shall convene multi- + stakeholder groups to provide input on-- + ``(i) the selection of quality measures + described in subparagraph (B), from among-- + ``(I) such measures that have been + endorsed by the entity; and + ``(II) such measures that have not + been considered for endorsement by such + entity but are used or proposed to be + used by the Secretary for the collection + or reporting of quality measures; and + ``(ii) national priorities (as identified + under section 399HH of the Public Health Service + Act) for improvement in population health and in + the delivery of health care services for + consideration under the national strategy + established under section 399HH of the Public + Health Service Act. + ``(B) Quality measures.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), the + quality measures described in this subparagraph + are quality measures-- + ``(I) for use pursuant to sections + 1814(i)(5)(D), 1833(i)(7), 1833(t)(17), + 1848(k)(2)(C), 1866(k)(3), + 1881(h)(2)(A)(iii), 1886(b)(3)(B)(viii), + 1886(j)(7)(D), 1886(m)(5)(D), + 1886(o)(2), and 1895(b)(3)(B)(v); + ``(II) for use in reporting + performance information to the public; + and + ``(III) for use in health care + programs other than for use under this + Act. + ``(ii) Exclusion.--Data sets (such as the + outcome and assessment information set for home + health services and the minimum data set for + skilled nursing facility services) that are used + for purposes of classification systems used in + establishing payment rates under this title shall + not be quality measures described in this + subparagraph. + ``(C) Requirement for transparency in process.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 385]] + + ``(i) In general.--In convening multi- + stakeholder groups under subparagraph (A) with + respect to the selection of quality measures, the + entity shall provide for an open and transparent + process for the activities conducted pursuant to + such convening. + ``(ii) Selection of organizations + participating in multi-stakeholder groups.--The + process described in clause (i) shall ensure that + the selection of representatives comprising such + groups provides for public nominations for, and + the opportunity for public comment on, such + selection. + ``(D) Multi-stakeholder group defined.--In this + paragraph, the term `multi-stakeholder group' means, + with respect to a quality measure, a voluntary + collaborative of organizations representing a broad + group of stakeholders interested in or affected by the + use of such quality measure. + ``(8) Transmission of multi-stakeholder input.-- + <> Not later than February 1 of each year + (beginning with 2012), the entity shall transmit to the + Secretary the input of multi-stakeholder groups provided under + paragraph (7).''. + (2) Annual report.--Section 1890(b)(5)(A) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395aaa(b)(5)(A)) is amended-- + (A) in clause (ii), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (B) in clause (iii), by striking the period at the + end and inserting a semicolon; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new clauses: + ``(iv) gaps in endorsed quality measures, + which shall include measures that are within + priority areas identified by the Secretary under + the national strategy established under section + 399HH of the Public Health Service Act, and where + quality measures are unavailable or inadequate to + identify or address such gaps; + ``(v) areas in which evidence is insufficient + to support endorsement of quality measures in + priority areas identified by the Secretary under + the national strategy established under section + 399HH of the Public Health Service Act and where + targeted research may address such gaps; and + ``(vi) the matters described in clauses (i) + and (ii) of paragraph (7)(A).''. + + (b) Multi-stakeholder Group Input Into Selection of Quality +Measures.--Title XVIII of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395 et +seq.) is amended by inserting after section 1890 the following: + + + ``quality measurement + + + ``Sec. 1890A. <> (a) Multi- +stakeholder Group Input Into Selection of Quality Measures.-- +<> The Secretary shall establish a pre-rulemaking +process under which the following steps occur with respect to the +selection of quality measures described in section 1890(b)(7)(B): + ``(1) Input.--Pursuant to section 1890(b)(7), the entity + with a contract under section 1890 shall convene multi- + stakeholder groups to provide input to the Secretary on the + selection of quality measures described in subparagraph (B) of + such paragraph. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 386]] + + ``(2) Public availability of measures considered for + selection.--Not later than December 1 of each year (beginning + with 2011), the Secretary shall make available to the public a + list of quality measures described in section 1890(b)(7)(B) that + the Secretary is considering under this title. + ``(3) Transmission of multi-stakeholder input.--Pursuant to + section 1890(b)(8), not later than February 1 of each year + (beginning with 2012), the entity shall transmit to the + Secretary the input of multi-stakeholder groups described in + paragraph (1). + ``(4) Consideration of multi-stakeholder input.--The + Secretary shall take into consideration the input from multi- + stakeholder groups described in paragraph (1) in selecting + quality measures described in section 1890(b)(7)(B) that have + been endorsed by the entity with a contract under section 1890 + and measures that have not been endorsed by such entity. + ``(5) Rationale for use of quality measures.-- + <> The Secretary shall + publish in the Federal Register the rationale for the use of any + quality measure described in section 1890(b)(7)(B) that has not + been endorsed by the entity with a contract under section 1890. + ``(6) Assessment of impact.--Not later than March 1, 2012, + and at least once every three years thereafter, the Secretary + shall-- + ``(A) conduct an assessment of the quality impact of + the use of endorsed measures described in section + 1890(b)(7)(B); and + ``(B) <> make such + assessment available to the public. + + ``(b) Process for Dissemination of Measures Used by the Secretary.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall establish a process + for disseminating quality measures used by the Secretary. Such + process shall include the following: + ``(A) The incorporation of such measures, where + applicable, in workforce programs, training curricula, + and any other means of dissemination determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(B) The dissemination of such quality measures + through the national strategy developed under section + 399HH of the Public Health Service Act. + ``(2) Existing methods.--To the extent practicable, the + Secretary shall utilize and expand existing dissemination + methods in disseminating quality measures under the process + established under paragraph (1). + + ``(c) Review of Quality Measures Used by the Secretary.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall-- + ``(A) periodically (but in no case less often than + once every 3 years) review quality measures described in + section 1890(b)(7)(B); and + ``(B) with respect to each such measure, determine + whether to-- + ``(i) maintain the use of such measure; or + ``(ii) phase out such measure. + ``(2) Considerations.--In conducting the review under + paragraph (1), the Secretary shall take steps to-- + ``(A) seek to avoid duplication of measures used; + and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 387]] + + ``(B) take into consideration current innovative + methodologies and strategies for quality improvement + practices in the delivery of health care services that + represent best practices for such quality improvement + and measures endorsed by the entity with a contract + under section 1890 since the previous review by the + Secretary. + + ``(d) Rule of Construction.--Nothing in this section shall preclude +a State from using the quality measures identified under sections 1139A +and 1139B.''. + (c) Funding.--For purposes of carrying out the amendments made by +this section, the Secretary shall provide for the transfer, from the +Federal Hospital Insurance Trust Fund under section 1817 of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i) and the Federal Supplementary Medical +Insurance Trust Fund under section 1841 of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395t), +in such proportion as the Secretary determines appropriate, of +$20,000,000, to the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services Program +Management Account for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014. Amounts +transferred under the preceding sentence shall remain available until +expended. + +SEC. 3015. DATA COLLECTION; PUBLIC REPORTING. + + Title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 241 et seq.), +as amended by section 3011, is further amended by adding at the end the +following: + +``SEC. 399II. <> COLLECTION AND ANALYSIS OF DATA + FOR QUALITY AND RESOURCE USE MEASURES. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary shall collect and aggregate +consistent data on quality and resource use measures from information +systems used to support health care delivery to implement the public +reporting of performance information, as described in section 399JJ, and +may award grants or contracts for this purpose. The Secretary shall +ensure that such collection, aggregation, and analysis systems span an +increasingly broad range of patient populations, providers, and +geographic areas over time. + ``(b) Grants or Contracts for Data Collection.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary may award grants or + contracts to eligible entities to support new, or improve + existing, efforts to collect and aggregate quality and resource + use measures described under subsection (c). + ``(2) Eligible entities.--To be eligible for a grant or + contract under this subsection, an entity shall-- + ``(A) be-- + ``(i) a multi-stakeholder entity that + coordinates the development of methods and + implementation plans for the consistent reporting + of summary quality and cost information; + ``(ii) an entity capable of submitting such + summary data for a particular population and + providers, such as a disease registry, regional + collaboration, health plan collaboration, or other + population-wide source; or + ``(iii) a Federal Indian Health Service + program or a health program operated by an Indian + tribe (as defined in section 4 of the Indian + Health Care Improvement Act); + ``(B) promote the use of the systems that provide + data to improve and coordinate patient care; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 388]] + + ``(C) support the provision of timely, consistent + quality and resource use information to health care + providers, and other groups and organizations as + appropriate, with an opportunity for providers to + correct inaccurate measures; and + ``(D) agree to report, as determined by the + Secretary, measures on quality and resource use to the + public in accordance with the public reporting process + established under section 399JJ. + + ``(c) Consistent Data Aggregation.-- <> The +Secretary may award grants or contracts under this section only to +entities that enable summary data that can be integrated and compared +across multiple sources. The Secretary shall provide standards for the +protection of the security and privacy of patient data. + + ``(d) Matching Funds.--The Secretary may not award a grant or +contract under this section to an entity unless the entity agrees that +it will make available (directly or through contributions from other +public or private entities) non-Federal contributions toward the +activities to be carried out under the grant or contract in an amount +equal to $1 for each $5 of Federal funds provided under the grant or +contract. Such non-Federal matching funds may be provided directly or +through donations from public or private entities and may be in cash or +in-kind, fairly evaluated, including plant, equipment, or services. + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriations.--To carry out this section, +there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as may be necessary +for fiscal years 2010 through 2014. + +``SEC. 399JJ. <> PUBLIC REPORTING OF PERFORMANCE + INFORMATION. + + ``(a) Development of Performance Websites.-- <> The Secretary shall make available to the public, through +standardized Internet websites, performance information summarizing data +on quality measures. Such information shall be tailored to respond to +the differing needs of hospitals and other institutional health care +providers, physicians and other clinicians, patients, consumers, +researchers, policymakers, States, and other stakeholders, as the +Secretary may specify. + + ``(b) Information on Conditions.--The performance information made +publicly available on an Internet website, as described in subsection +(a), shall include information regarding clinical conditions to the +extent such information is available, and the information shall, where +appropriate, be provider-specific and sufficiently disaggregated and +specific to meet the needs of patients with different clinical +conditions. + ``(c) Consultation.-- + ``(1) In general.--In carrying out this section, the + Secretary shall consult with the entity with a contract under + section 1890(a) of the Social Security Act, and other entities, + as appropriate, to determine the type of information that is + useful to stakeholders and the format that best facilitates use + of the reports and of performance reporting Internet websites. + ``(2) Consultation with stakeholders.--The entity with a + contract under section 1890(a) of the Social Security Act shall + convene multi-stakeholder groups, as described in such section, + to review the design and format of each Internet website made + available under subsection (a) and shall transmit + +[[Page 124 STAT. 389]] + + to the Secretary the views of such multi-stakeholder groups with + respect to each such design and format. + + ``(d) Coordination.--Where appropriate, the Secretary shall +coordinate the manner in which data are presented through Internet +websites described in subsection (a) and for public reporting of other +quality measures by the Secretary, including such quality measures under +title XVIII of the Social Security Act. + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriations.--To carry out this section, +there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as may be necessary +for fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + + PART III--ENCOURAGING DEVELOPMENT OF NEW PATIENT CARE MODELS + +SEC. 3021. ESTABLISHMENT OF CENTER FOR MEDICARE AND MEDICAID INNOVATION + WITHIN CMS. + + (a) In General.--Title XI of the Social Security Act is amended by +inserting after section 1115 the following new section: + + + ``center for medicare and medicaid innovation + + + ``Sec. 1115A. <> (a) Center for Medicare and +Medicaid Innovation Established.-- + ``(1) In general.--There is created within the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services a Center for Medicare and Medicaid + Innovation (in this section referred to as the `CMI') to carry + out the duties described in this section. The purpose of the CMI + is to test innovative payment and service delivery models to + reduce program expenditures under the applicable titles while + preserving or enhancing the quality of care furnished to + individuals under such titles. In selecting such models, the + Secretary shall give preference to models that also improve the + coordination, quality, and efficiency of health care services + furnished to applicable individuals defined in paragraph (4)(A). + ``(2) Deadline.--The Secretary shall ensure that the CMI is + carrying out the duties described in this section by not later + than January 1, 2011. + ``(3) Consultation.--In carrying out the duties under this + section, the CMI shall consult representatives of relevant + Federal agencies, and clinical and analytical experts with + expertise in medicine and health care management. The CMI shall + use open door forums or other mechanisms to seek input from + interested parties. + ``(4) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(A) Applicable individual.--The term `applicable + individual' means-- + ``(i) an individual who is entitled to, or + enrolled for, benefits under part A of title XVIII + or enrolled for benefits under part B of such + title; + ``(ii) an individual who is eligible for + medical assistance under title XIX, under a State + plan or waiver; or + ``(iii) an individual who meets the criteria + of both clauses (i) and (ii). + ``(B) Applicable title.--The term `applicable title' + means title XVIII, title XIX, or both. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 390]] + + ``(b) Testing of Models (Phase I).-- + ``(1) In general.--The CMI shall test payment and service + delivery models in accordance with selection criteria under + paragraph (2) to determine the effect of applying such models + under the applicable title (as defined in subsection (a)(4)(B)) + on program expenditures under such titles and the quality of + care received by individuals receiving benefits under such + title. + ``(2) Selection of models to be tested.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--The + Secretary shall select models to be tested from models + where the Secretary determines that there is evidence + that the model addresses a defined population for which + there are deficits in care leading to poor clinical + outcomes or potentially avoidable expenditures. The + models selected under the preceding sentence may include + the models described in subparagraph (B). + ``(B) Opportunities.--The models described in this + subparagraph are the following models: + ``(i) Promoting broad payment and practice + reform in primary care, including patient-centered + medical home models for high-need applicable + individuals, medical homes that address women's + unique health care needs, and models that + transition primary care practices away from fee- + for-service based reimbursement and toward + comprehensive payment or salary-based payment. + ``(ii) Contracting directly with groups of + providers of services and suppliers to promote + innovative care delivery models, such as through + risk-based comprehensive payment or salary-based + payment. + ``(iii) Utilizing geriatric assessments and + comprehensive care plans to coordinate the care + (including through interdisciplinary teams) of + applicable individuals with multiple chronic + conditions and at least one of the following: + ``(I) An inability to perform 2 or + more activities of daily living. + ``(II) Cognitive impairment, + including dementia. + ``(iv) Promote care coordination between + providers of services and suppliers that + transition health care providers away from fee- + for-service based reimbursement and toward salary- + based payment. + ``(v) Supporting care coordination for + chronically-ill applicable individuals at high + risk of hospitalization through a health + information technology-enabled provider network + that includes care coordinators, a chronic disease + registry, and home tele-health technology. + ``(vi) Varying payment to physicians who order + advanced diagnostic imaging services (as defined + in section 1834(e)(1)(B)) according to the + physician's adherence to appropriateness criteria + for the ordering of such services, as determined + in consultation with physician specialty groups + and other relevant stakeholders. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 391]] + + ``(vii) Utilizing medication therapy + management services, such as those described in + section 935 of the Public Health Service Act. + ``(viii) Establishing community-based health + teams to support small-practice medical homes by + assisting the primary care practitioner in chronic + care management, including patient self- + management, activities. + ``(ix) Assisting applicable individuals in + making informed health care choices by paying + providers of services and suppliers for using + patient decision-support tools, including tools + that meet the standards developed and identified + under section 936(c)(2)(A) of the Public Health + Service Act, that improve applicable individual + and caregiver understanding of medical treatment + options. + ``(x) Allowing States to test and evaluate + fully integrating care for dual eligible + individuals in the State, including the management + and oversight of all funds under the applicable + titles with respect to such individuals. + ``(xi) Allowing States to test and evaluate + systems of all-payer payment reform for the + medical care of residents of the State, including + dual eligible individuals. + ``(xii) Aligning nationally recognized, + evidence-based guidelines of cancer care with + payment incentives under title XVIII in the areas + of treatment planning and follow-up care planning + for applicable individuals described in clause (i) + or (iii) of subsection (a)(4)(A) with cancer, + including the identification of gaps in applicable + quality measures. + ``(xiii) Improving post-acute care through + continuing care hospitals that offer inpatient + rehabilitation, long-term care hospitals, and home + health or skilled nursing care during an inpatient + stay and the 30 days immediately following + discharge. + ``(xiv) Funding home health providers who + offer chronic care management services to + applicable individuals in cooperation with + interdisciplinary teams. + ``(xv) Promoting improved quality and reduced + cost by developing a collaborative of high- + quality, low-cost health care institutions that is + responsible for-- + ``(I) developing, documenting, and + disseminating best practices and proven + care methods; + ``(II) implementing such best + practices and proven care methods within + such institutions to demonstrate further + improvements in quality and efficiency; + and + ``(III) providing assistance to + other health care institutions on how + best to employ such best practices and + proven care methods to improve health + care quality and lower costs. + ``(xvi) Facilitate inpatient care, including + intensive care, of hospitalized applicable + individuals at their local hospital through the + use of electronic monitoring by specialists, + including intensivists and critical care + specialists, based at integrated health systems. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 392]] + + ``(xvii) Promoting greater efficiencies and + timely access to outpatient services (such as + outpatient physical therapy services) through + models that do not require a physician or other + health professional to refer the service or be + involved in establishing the plan of care for the + service, when such service is furnished by a + health professional who has the authority to + furnish the service under existing State law. + ``(xviii) Establishing comprehensive payments + to Healthcare Innovation Zones, consisting of + groups of providers that include a teaching + hospital, physicians, and other clinical entities, + that, through their structure, operations, and + joint-activity deliver a full spectrum of + integrated and comprehensive health care services + to applicable individuals while also incorporating + innovative methods for the clinical training of + future health care professionals. + ``(C) Additional factors for consideration.--In + selecting models for testing under subparagraph (A), the + CMI may consider the following additional factors: + ``(i) Whether the model includes a regular + process for monitoring and updating patient care + plans in a manner that is consistent with the + needs and preferences of applicable individuals. + ``(ii) Whether the model places the applicable + individual, including family members and other + informal caregivers of the applicable individual, + at the center of the care team of the applicable + individual. + ``(iii) Whether the model provides for in- + person contact with applicable individuals. + ``(iv) Whether the model utilizes technology, + such as electronic health records and patient- + based remote monitoring systems, to coordinate + care over time and across settings. + ``(v) Whether the model provides for the + maintenance of a close relationship between care + coordinators, primary care practitioners, + specialist physicians, community-based + organizations, and other providers of services and + suppliers. + ``(vi) Whether the model relies on a team- + based approach to interventions, such as + comprehensive care assessments, care planning, and + self-management coaching. + ``(vii) Whether, under the model, providers of + services and suppliers are able to share + information with patients, caregivers, and other + providers of services and suppliers on a real time + basis. + ``(3) Budget neutrality.-- + ``(A) Initial period.--The Secretary shall not + require, as a condition for testing a model under + paragraph (1), that the design of such model ensure that + such model is budget neutral initially with respect to + expenditures under the applicable title. + ``(B) <> Termination or + modification.--The Secretary shall terminate or modify + the design and implementation of a model unless the + Secretary determines (and the Chief Actuary of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 393]] + + with respect to program spending under the applicable + title, certifies), after testing has begun, that the + model is expected to-- + ``(i) improve the quality of care (as + determined by the Administrator of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services) without increasing + spending under the applicable title; + ``(ii) reduce spending under the applicable + title without reducing the quality of care; or + ``(iii) improve the quality of care and reduce + spending. + Such termination may occur at any time after such + testing has begun and before completion of the testing. + ``(4) Evaluation.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall conduct an + evaluation of each model tested under this subsection. + Such evaluation shall include an analysis of-- + ``(i) the quality of care furnished under the + model, including the measurement of patient-level + outcomes and patient-centeredness criteria + determined appropriate by the Secretary; and + ``(ii) the changes in spending under the + applicable titles by reason of the model. + ``(B) Information.-- <> The Secretary shall make + the results of each evaluation under this paragraph + available to the public in a timely fashion and may + establish requirements for States and other entities + participating in the testing of models under this + section to collect and report information that the + Secretary determines is necessary to monitor and + evaluate such models. + + ``(c) <> Expansion of Models (Phase II).-- +Taking into account the evaluation under subsection (b)(4), the +Secretary may, through rulemaking, expand (including implementation on a +nationwide basis) the duration and the scope of a model that is being +tested under subsection (b) or a demonstration project under section +1866C, to the extent determined appropriate by the Secretary, if-- + ``(1) the Secretary determines that such expansion is + expected to-- + ``(A) reduce spending under applicable title without + reducing the quality of care; or + ``(B) improve the quality of care and reduce + spending; and + ``(2) <> the Chief Actuary of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services certifies that such + expansion would reduce program spending under applicable titles. + + ``(d) Implementation.-- + ``(1) Waiver authority.--The Secretary may waive such + requirements of titles XI and XVIII and of sections 1902(a)(1), + 1902(a)(13), and 1903(m)(2)(A)(iii) as may be necessary solely + for purposes of carrying out this section with respect to + testing models described in subsection (b). + ``(2) Limitations on review.--There shall be no + administrative or judicial review under section 1869, section + 1878, or otherwise of-- + ``(A) the selection of models for testing or + expansion under this section; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 394]] + + ``(B) the selection of organizations, sites, or + participants to test those models selected; + ``(C) the elements, parameters, scope, and duration + of such models for testing or dissemination; + ``(D) determinations regarding budget neutrality + under subsection (b)(3); + ``(E) the termination or modification of the design + and implementation of a model under subsection + (b)(3)(B); and + ``(F) determinations about expansion of the duration + and scope of a model under subsection (c), including the + determination that a model is not expected to meet + criteria described in paragraph (1) or (2) of such + subsection. + ``(3) Administration.--Chapter 35 of title 44, United States + Code, shall not apply to the testing and evaluation of models or + expansion of such models under this section. + + ``(e) Application to CHIP.--The Center may carry out activities +under this section with respect to title XXI in the same manner as +provided under this section with respect to the program under the +applicable titles. + ``(f) Funding.-- + ``(1) In general.--There are appropriated, from amounts in + the Treasury not otherwise appropriated-- + ``(A) $5,000,000 for the design, implementation, and + evaluation of models under subsection (b) for fiscal + year 2010; + ``(B) $10,000,000,000 for the activities initiated + under this section for the period of fiscal years 2011 + through 2019; and + ``(C) the amount described in subparagraph (B) for + the activities initiated under this section for each + subsequent 10-year fiscal period (beginning with the 10- + year fiscal period beginning with fiscal year 2020). + Amounts appropriated under the preceding sentence shall remain + available until expended. + ``(2) Use of certain funds.--Out of amounts appropriated + under subparagraphs (B) and (C) of paragraph (1), not less than + $25,000,000 shall be made available each such fiscal year to + design, implement, and evaluate models under subsection (b). + + ``(g) Report to Congress.--Beginning in 2012, and not less than once +every other year thereafter, the Secretary shall submit to Congress a +report on activities under this section. Each such report shall describe +the models tested under subsection (b), including the number of +individuals described in subsection (a)(4)(A)(i) and of individuals +described in subsection (a)(4)(A)(ii) participating in such models and +payments made under applicable titles for services on behalf of such +individuals, any models chosen for expansion under subsection (c), and +the results from evaluations under subsection +(b)(4). <> In addition, each such report shall +provide such recommendations as the Secretary determines are appropriate +for legislative action to facilitate the development and expansion of +successful payment models.''. + + (b) Medicaid Conforming Amendment.--Section 1902(a) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)), as amended by section 8002(b), is +amended-- + (1) in paragraph (81), by striking ``and'' at the end; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 395]] + + (2) in paragraph (82), by striking the period at the end and + inserting ``; and''; and + (3) by inserting after paragraph (82) the following new + paragraph: + ``(83) provide for implementation of the payment models + specified by the Secretary under section 1115A(c) for + implementation on a nationwide basis unless the State + demonstrates to the satisfaction of the Secretary that + implementation would not be administratively feasible or + appropriate to the health care delivery system of the State.''. + + (c) Revisions to Health Care Quality Demonstration Program.-- +Subsections (b) and (f) of section 1866C of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395cc-3) are amended by striking ``5-year'' each place it +appears. + +SEC. 3022. MEDICARE SHARED SAVINGS PROGRAM. + + Title XVIII of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395 et seq.) is +amended by adding at the end the following new section: + + + ``shared savings program + + + ``Sec. 1899. <> (a) Establishment.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> Not later than + January 1, 2012, the Secretary shall establish a shared savings + program (in this section referred to as the `program') that + promotes accountability for a patient population and coordinates + items and services under parts A and B, and encourages + investment in infrastructure and redesigned care processes for + high quality and efficient service delivery. Under such + program-- + ``(A) groups of providers of services and suppliers + meeting criteria specified by the Secretary may work + together to manage and coordinate care for Medicare fee- + for-service beneficiaries through an accountable care + organization (referred to in this section as an `ACO'); + and + ``(B) ACOs that meet quality performance standards + established by the Secretary are eligible to receive + payments for shared savings under subsection (d)(2). + + ``(b) Eligible ACOs.-- + ``(1) In general.--Subject to the succeeding provisions of + this subsection, as determined appropriate by the Secretary, the + following groups of providers of services and suppliers which + have established a mechanism for shared governance are eligible + to participate as ACOs under the program under this section: + ``(A) ACO professionals in group practice + arrangements. + ``(B) Networks of individual practices of ACO + professionals. + ``(C) Partnerships or joint venture arrangements + between hospitals and ACO professionals. + ``(D) Hospitals employing ACO professionals. + ``(E) Such other groups of providers of services and + suppliers as the Secretary determines appropriate. + ``(2) Requirements.--An ACO shall meet the following + requirements: + ``(A) The ACO shall be willing to become accountable + for the quality, cost, and overall care of the Medicare + fee-for-service beneficiaries assigned to it. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 396]] + + ``(B) <> The ACO shall enter into + an agreement with the Secretary to participate in the + program for not less than a 3-year period (referred to + in this section as the `agreement period'). + ``(C) The ACO shall have a formal legal structure + that would allow the organization to receive and + distribute payments for shared savings under subsection + (d)(2) to participating providers of services and + suppliers. + ``(D) The ACO shall include primary care ACO + professionals that are sufficient for the number of + Medicare fee-for-service beneficiaries assigned to the + ACO under subsection (c). At a minimum, the ACO shall + have at least 5,000 such beneficiaries assigned to it + under subsection (c) in order to be eligible to + participate in the ACO program. + ``(E) The ACO shall provide the Secretary with such + information regarding ACO professionals participating in + the ACO as the Secretary determines necessary to support + the assignment of Medicare fee-for-service beneficiaries + to an ACO, the implementation of quality and other + reporting requirements under paragraph (3), and the + determination of payments for shared savings under + subsection (d)(2). + ``(F) The ACO shall have in place a leadership and + management structure that includes clinical and + administrative systems. + ``(G) The ACO shall define processes to promote + evidence-based medicine and patient engagement, report + on quality and cost measures, and coordinate care, such + as through the use of telehealth, remote patient + monitoring, and other such enabling technologies. + ``(H) The ACO shall demonstrate to the Secretary + that it meets patient-centeredness criteria specified by + the Secretary, such as the use of patient and caregiver + assessments or the use of individualized care plans. + ``(3) Quality and other reporting requirements.-- + ``(A) In general.-- <> The + Secretary shall determine appropriate measures to assess + the quality of care furnished by the ACO, such as + measures of-- + ``(i) clinical processes and outcomes; + ``(ii) patient and, where practicable, + caregiver experience of care; and + ``(iii) utilization (such as rates of hospital + admissions for ambulatory care sensitive + conditions). + ``(B) Reporting requirements.--An ACO shall submit + data in a form and manner specified by the Secretary on + measures the Secretary determines necessary for the ACO + to report in order to evaluate the quality of care + furnished by the ACO. Such data may include care + transitions across health care settings, including + hospital discharge planning and post-hospital discharge + follow-up by ACO professionals, as the Secretary + determines appropriate. + ``(C) Quality performance standards.--The Secretary + shall establish quality performance standards to assess + the quality of care furnished by ACOs. The Secretary + shall seek to improve the quality of care furnished by + +[[Page 124 STAT. 397]] + + ACOs over time by specifying higher standards, new + measures, or both for purposes of assessing such quality + of care. + ``(D) Other reporting requirements.--The Secretary + may, as the Secretary determines appropriate, + incorporate reporting requirements and incentive + payments related to the physician quality reporting + initiative (PQRI) under section 1848, including such + requirements and such payments related to electronic + prescribing, electronic health records, and other + similar initiatives under section 1848, and may use + alternative criteria than would otherwise apply under + such section for determining whether to make such + payments. The incentive payments described in the + preceding sentence shall not be taken into consideration + when calculating any payments otherwise made under + subsection (d). + ``(4) No duplication in participation in shared savings + programs.--A provider of services or supplier that participates + in any of the following shall not be eligible to participate in + an ACO under this section: + ``(A) A model tested or expanded under section 1115A + that involves shared savings under this title, or any + other program or demonstration project that involves + such shared savings. + ``(B) The independence at home medical practice + pilot program under section 1866E. + + ``(c) Assignment of Medicare Fee-for-service Beneficiaries to +ACOs.-- <> The Secretary shall determine an +appropriate method to assign Medicare fee-for-service beneficiaries to +an ACO based on their utilization of primary care services provided +under this title by an ACO professional described in subsection +(h)(1)(A). + + ``(d) Payments and Treatment of Savings.-- + ``(1) Payments.-- + ``(A) In general.--Under the program, subject to + paragraph (3), payments shall continue to be made to + providers of services and suppliers participating in an + ACO under the original Medicare fee-for-service program + under parts A and B in the same manner as they would + otherwise be made except that a participating ACO is + eligible to receive payment for shared savings under + paragraph (2) if-- + ``(i) the ACO meets quality performance + standards established by the Secretary under + subsection (b)(3); and + ``(ii) the ACO meets the requirement under + subparagraph (B)(i). + ``(B) Savings requirement and benchmark.-- + ``(i) Determining savings.--In each year of + the agreement period, an ACO shall be eligible to + receive payment for shared savings under paragraph + (2) only if the estimated average per capita + Medicare expenditures under the ACO for Medicare + fee-for-service beneficiaries for parts A and B + services, adjusted for beneficiary + characteristics, is at least the percent specified + by the Secretary below the applicable benchmark + under clause (ii). The Secretary shall determine + the appropriate percent described in the preceding + sentence to account for normal variation in + expenditures under + +[[Page 124 STAT. 398]] + + this title, based upon the number of Medicare fee- + for-service beneficiaries assigned to an ACO. + ``(ii) Establish and update benchmark.--The + Secretary shall estimate a benchmark for each + agreement period for each ACO using the most + recent available 3 years of per-beneficiary + expenditures for parts A and B services for + Medicare fee-for-service beneficiaries assigned to + the ACO. Such benchmark shall be adjusted for + beneficiary characteristics and such other factors + as the Secretary determines appropriate and + updated by the projected absolute amount of growth + in national per capita expenditures for parts A + and B services under the original Medicare fee- + for-service program, as estimated by the + Secretary. Such benchmark shall be reset at the + start of each agreement period. + ``(2) Payments for shared savings.--Subject to performance + with respect to the quality performance standards established by + the Secretary under subsection (b)(3), if an ACO meets the + requirements under paragraph (1), a percent (as determined + appropriate by the Secretary) of the difference between such + estimated average per capita Medicare expenditures in a year, + adjusted for beneficiary characteristics, under the ACO and such + benchmark for the ACO may be paid to the ACO as shared savings + and the remainder of such difference shall be retained by the + program under this title. <> The Secretary + shall establish limits on the total amount of shared savings + that may be paid to an ACO under this paragraph. + ``(3) Monitoring avoidance of at-risk patients.--If the + Secretary determines that an ACO has taken steps to avoid + patients at risk in order to reduce the likelihood of increasing + costs to the ACO the Secretary may impose an appropriate + sanction on the ACO, including termination from the program. + ``(4) Termination.--The Secretary may terminate an agreement + with an ACO if it does not meet the quality performance + standards established by the Secretary under subsection (b)(3). + + ``(e) Administration.--Chapter 35 of title 44, United States Code, +shall not apply to the program. + ``(f) Waiver Authority.--The Secretary may waive such requirements +of sections 1128A and 1128B and title XVIII of this Act as may be +necessary to carry out the provisions of this section. + ``(g) Limitations on Review.--There shall be no administrative or +judicial review under section 1869, section 1878, or otherwise of-- + ``(1) the specification of criteria under subsection + (a)(1)(B); + ``(2) the assessment of the quality of care furnished by an + ACO and the establishment of performance standards under + subsection (b)(3); + ``(3) the assignment of Medicare fee-for-service + beneficiaries to an ACO under subsection (c); + ``(4) the determination of whether an ACO is eligible for + shared savings under subsection (d)(2) and the amount of such + shared savings, including the determination of the estimated + average per capita Medicare expenditures under the ACO for + Medicare fee-for-service beneficiaries assigned to the ACO and + the average benchmark for the ACO under subsection (d)(1)(B); + +[[Page 124 STAT. 399]] + + ``(5) the percent of shared savings specified by the + Secretary under subsection (d)(2) and any limit on the total + amount of shared savings established by the Secretary under such + subsection; and + ``(6) the termination of an ACO under subsection (d)(4). + + ``(h) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) ACO professional.--The term `ACO professional' means-- + ``(A) a physician (as defined in section + 1861(r)(1)); and + ``(B) a practitioner described in section + 1842(b)(18)(C)(i). + ``(2) Hospital.--The term `hospital' means a subsection (d) + hospital (as defined in section 1886(d)(1)(B)). + ``(3) Medicare fee-for-service beneficiary.--The term + `Medicare fee-for-service beneficiary' means an individual who + is enrolled in the original Medicare fee-for-service program + under parts A and B and is not enrolled in an MA plan under part + C, an eligible organization under section 1876, or a PACE + program under section 1894.''. + +SEC. 3023. NATIONAL PILOT PROGRAM ON PAYMENT BUNDLING. + + Title XVIII of the Social Security Act, as amended by section 3021, +is amended by inserting after section 1886C the following new section: + + + ``national pilot program on payment bundling + + + ``Sec. 1866D. <> (a) Implementation.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall establish a pilot + program for integrated care during an episode of care provided + to an applicable beneficiary around a hospitalization in order + to improve the coordination, quality, and efficiency of health + care services under this title. + ``(2) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(A) Applicable beneficiary.--The term `applicable + beneficiary' means an individual who-- + ``(i) is entitled to, or enrolled for, + benefits under part A and enrolled for benefits + under part B of such title, but not enrolled under + part C or a PACE program under section 1894; and + ``(ii) is admitted to a hospital for an + applicable condition. + ``(B) Applicable condition.--The term `applicable + condition' means 1 or more of 8 conditions selected by + the Secretary. In selecting conditions under the + preceding sentence, the Secretary shall take into + consideration the following factors: + ``(i) Whether the conditions selected include + a mix of chronic and acute conditions. + ``(ii) Whether the conditions selected include + a mix of surgical and medical conditions. + ``(iii) Whether a condition is one for which + there is evidence of an opportunity for providers + of services and suppliers to improve the quality + of care furnished while reducing total + expenditures under this title. + ``(iv) Whether a condition has significant + variation in-- + ``(I) the number of readmissions; + and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 400]] + + ``(II) the amount of expenditures + for post-acute care spending under this + title. + ``(v) Whether a condition is high-volume and + has high post-acute care expenditures under this + title. + ``(vi) Which conditions the Secretary + determines are most amenable to bundling across + the spectrum of care given practice patterns under + this title. + ``(C) Applicable services.--The term `applicable + services' means the following: + ``(i) Acute care inpatient services. + ``(ii) Physicians' services delivered in and + outside of an acute care hospital setting. + ``(iii) Outpatient hospital services, + including emergency department services. + ``(iv) Post-acute care services, including + home health services, skilled nursing services, + inpatient rehabilitation services, and inpatient + hospital services furnished by a long-term care + hospital. + ``(v) Other services the Secretary determines + appropriate. + ``(D) Episode of care.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), the + term `episode of care' means, with respect to an + applicable condition and an applicable + beneficiary, the period that includes-- + ``(I) the 3 days prior to the + admission of the applicable beneficiary + to a hospital for the applicable + condition; + ``(II) the length of stay of the + applicable beneficiary in such hospital; + and + ``(III) the 30 days following the + discharge of the applicable beneficiary + from such hospital. + ``(ii) Establishment of period by the + secretary.--The Secretary, as appropriate, may + establish a period (other than the period + described in clause (i)) for an episode of care + under the pilot program. + ``(E) Physicians' services.--The term `physicians' + services' has the meaning given such term in section + 1861(q). + ``(F) Pilot program.--The term `pilot program' means + the pilot program under this section. + ``(G) Provider of services.--The term `provider of + services' has the meaning given such term in section + 1861(u). + ``(H) Readmission.--The term `readmission' has the + meaning given such term in section 1886(q)(5)(E). + ``(I) Supplier.--The term `supplier' has the meaning + given such term in section 1861(d). + ``(3) Deadline for implementation.--The Secretary shall + establish the pilot program not later than January 1, 2013. + + ``(b) Developmental Phase.-- + ``(1) Determination of patient assessment instrument.--The + Secretary shall determine which patient assessment instrument + (such as the Continuity Assessment Record and Evaluation (CARE) + tool) shall be used under the pilot program to evaluate the + applicable condition of an applicable beneficiary for purposes + of determining the most + +[[Page 124 STAT. 401]] + + clinically appropriate site for the provision of post-acute care + to the applicable beneficiary. + ``(2) Development of quality measures for an episode of care + and for post-acute care.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary, in consultation + with the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality and + the entity with a contract under section 1890(a) of the + Social Security Act, shall develop quality measures for + use in the pilot program-- + ``(i) for episodes of care; and + ``(ii) for post-acute care. + ``(B) Site-neutral post-acute care quality + measures.--Any quality measures developed under + subparagraph (A)(ii) shall be site-neutral. + ``(C) Coordination with quality measure development + and endorsement procedures.--The Secretary shall ensure + that the development of quality measures under + subparagraph (A) is done in a manner that is consistent + with the measures developed and endorsed under section + 1890 and 1890A that are applicable to all post-acute + care settings. + + ``(c) Details.-- + ``(1) Duration.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), the + pilot program shall be conducted for a period of 5 + years. + ``(B) Extension.-- <> The + Secretary may extend the duration of the pilot program + for providers of services and suppliers participating in + the pilot program as of the day before the end of the 5- + year period described in subparagraph (A), for a period + determined appropriate by the Secretary, if the + Secretary determines that such extension will result in + improving or not reducing the quality of patient care + and reducing spending under this title. + ``(2) Participating providers of services and suppliers.-- + ``(A) In general.--An entity comprised of providers + of services and suppliers, including a hospital, a + physician group, a skilled nursing facility, and a home + health agency, who are otherwise participating under + this title, may submit an application to the Secretary + to provide applicable services to applicable individuals + under this section. + ``(B) Requirements.--The Secretary shall develop + requirements for entities to participate in the pilot + program under this section. Such requirements shall + ensure that applicable beneficiaries have an adequate + choice of providers of services and suppliers under the + pilot program. + ``(3) Payment methodology.-- + ``(A) In general.-- + ``(i) Establishment of payment methods.--The + Secretary shall develop payment methods for the + pilot program for entities participating in the + pilot program. Such payment methods may include + bundled payments and bids from entities for + episodes of care. The Secretary shall make + payments to the entity for services covered under + this section. + ``(ii) No additional program expenditures.-- + Payments under this section for applicable items + and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 402]] + + services under this title (including payment for + services described in subparagraph (B)) for + applicable beneficiaries for a year shall be + established in a manner that does not result in + spending more for such entity for such + beneficiaries than would otherwise be expended for + such entity for such beneficiaries for such year + if the pilot program were not implemented, as + estimated by the Secretary. + ``(B) Inclusion of certain services.--A payment + methodology tested under the pilot program shall include + payment for the furnishing of applicable services and + other appropriate services, such as care coordination, + medication reconciliation, discharge planning, + transitional care services, and other patient-centered + activities as determined appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(C) Bundled payments.-- + ``(i) In general.--A bundled payment under the + pilot program shall-- + ``(I) be comprehensive, covering the + costs of applicable services and other + appropriate services furnished to an + individual during an episode of care (as + determined by the Secretary); and + ``(II) be made to the entity which + is participating in the pilot program. + ``(ii) Requirement for provision of applicable + services and other appropriate services.-- + Applicable services and other appropriate services + for which payment is made under this subparagraph + shall be furnished or directed by the entity which + is participating in the pilot program. + ``(D) Payment for post-acute care services after the + episode of care.-- <> The Secretary + shall establish procedures, in the case where an + applicable beneficiary requires continued post-acute + care services after the last day of the episode of care, + under which payment for such services shall be made. + ``(4) Quality measures.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall establish + quality measures (including quality measures of process, + outcome, and structure) related to care provided by + entities participating in the pilot program. Quality + measures established under the preceding sentence shall + include measures of the following: + ``(i) Functional status improvement. + ``(ii) Reducing rates of avoidable hospital + readmissions. + ``(iii) Rates of discharge to the community. + ``(iv) Rates of admission to an emergency room + after a hospitalization. + ``(v) Incidence of health care acquired + infections. + ``(vi) Efficiency measures. + ``(vii) Measures of patient-centeredness of + care. + ``(viii) Measures of patient perception of + care. + ``(ix) Other measures, including measures of + patient outcomes, determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + ``(B) Reporting on quality measures.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 403]] + + ``(i) In general.--A entity shall submit data + to the Secretary on quality measures established + under subparagraph (A) during each year of the + pilot program (in a form and manner, subject to + clause (iii), specified by the Secretary). + ``(ii) Submission of data through electronic + health record.--To the extent practicable, the + Secretary shall specify that data on measures be + submitted under clause (i) through the use of an + qualified electronic health record (as defined in + section 3000(13) of the Public Health Service Act + (42 U.S.C. 300jj-11(13)) in a manner specified by + the Secretary. + + ``(d) Waiver.--The Secretary may waive such provisions of this title +and title XI as may be necessary to carry out the pilot program. + ``(e) Independent Evaluation and Reports on Pilot Program.-- + ``(1) Independent evaluation.--The Secretary shall conduct + an independent evaluation of the pilot program, including the + extent to which the pilot program has-- + ``(A) improved quality measures established under + subsection (c)(4)(A); + ``(B) improved health outcomes; + ``(C) improved applicable beneficiary access to + care; and + ``(D) reduced spending under this title. + ``(2) Reports.-- + ``(A) Interim report.--Not later than 2 years after + the implementation of the pilot program, the Secretary + shall submit to Congress a report on the initial results + of the independent evaluation conducted under paragraph + (1). + ``(B) Final report.--Not later than 3 years after + the implementation of the pilot program, the Secretary + shall submit to Congress a report on the final results + of the independent evaluation conducted under paragraph + (1). + + ``(f) Consultation.--The Secretary shall consult with +representatives of small rural hospitals, including critical access +hospitals (as defined in section 1861(mm)(1)), regarding their +participation in the pilot program. Such consultation shall include +consideration of innovative methods of implementing bundled payments in +hospitals described in the preceding sentence, taking into consideration +any difficulties in doing so as a result of the low volume of services +provided by such hospitals. + ``(g) Implementation Plan.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> Not later than + January 1, 2016, the Secretary shall submit a plan for the + implementation of an expansion of the pilot program if the + Secretary determines that such expansion will result in + improving or not reducing the quality of patient care and + reducing spending under this title. + + ``(h) Administration.--Chapter 35 of title 44, United States Code, +shall not apply to the selection, testing, and evaluation of models or +the expansion of such models under this section.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 404]] + +SEC. 3024. INDEPENDENCE AT HOME DEMONSTRATION PROGRAM. + + Title XVIII of the Social Security Act is amended by inserting after +section 1866D, as inserted by section 3023, the following new section: + + + ``independence at home medical practice demonstration program + + + ``Sec. 1866D. <> (a) Establishment.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall conduct a + demonstration program (in this section referred to as the + `demonstration program') to test a payment incentive and service + delivery model that utilizes physician and nurse practitioner + directed home-based primary care teams designed to reduce + expenditures and improve health outcomes in the provision of + items and services under this title to applicable beneficiaries + (as defined in subsection (d)). + ``(2) Requirement.--The demonstration program shall test + whether a model described in paragraph (1), which is accountable + for providing comprehensive, coordinated, continuous, and + accessible care to high-need populations at home and + coordinating health care across all treatment settings, results + in-- + ``(A) reducing preventable hospitalizations; + ``(B) preventing hospital readmissions; + ``(C) reducing emergency room visits; + ``(D) improving health outcomes commensurate with + the beneficiaries' stage of chronic illness; + ``(E) improving the efficiency of care, such as by + reducing duplicative diagnostic and laboratory tests; + ``(F) reducing the cost of health care services + covered under this title; and + ``(G) achieving beneficiary and family caregiver + satisfaction. + + ``(b) Independence at Home Medical Practice.-- + ``(1) Independence at home medical practice defined.--In + this section: + ``(A) In general.--The term `independence at home + medical practice' means a legal entity that-- + ``(i) is comprised of an individual physician + or nurse practitioner or group of physicians and + nurse practitioners that provides care as part of + a team that includes physicians, nurses, physician + assistants, pharmacists, and other health and + social services staff as appropriate who have + experience providing home-based primary care to + applicable beneficiaries, make in-home visits, and + are available 24 hours per day, 7 days per week to + carry out plans of care that are tailored to the + individual beneficiary's chronic conditions and + designed to achieve the results in subsection (a); + ``(ii) is organized at least in part for the + purpose of providing physicians' services; + ``(iii) has documented experience in providing + home-based primary care services to high-cost + chronically ill beneficiaries, as determined + appropriate by the Secretary; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 405]] + + ``(iv) furnishes services to at least 200 + applicable beneficiaries (as defined in subsection + (d)) during each year of the demonstration + program; + ``(v) has entered into an agreement with the + Secretary; + ``(vi) uses electronic health information + systems, remote monitoring, and mobile diagnostic + technology; and + ``(vii) meets such other criteria as the + Secretary determines to be appropriate to + participate in the demonstration program. + <> The entity shall + report on quality measures (in such form, manner, and + frequency as specified by the Secretary, which may be + for the group, for providers of services and suppliers, + or both) and report to the Secretary (in a form, manner, + and frequency as specified by the Secretary) such data + as the Secretary determines appropriate to monitor and + evaluate the demonstration program. + ``(B) Physician.--The term `physician' includes, + except as the Secretary may otherwise provide, any + individual who furnishes services for which payment may + be made as physicians' services and has the medical + training or experience to fulfill the physician's role + described in subparagraph (A)(i). + ``(2) Participation of nurse practitioners and physician + assistants.--Nothing in this section shall be construed to + prevent a nurse practitioner or physician assistant from + participating in, or leading, a home-based primary care team as + part of an independence at home medical practice if-- + ``(A) all the requirements of this section are met; + ``(B) the nurse practitioner or physician assistant, + as the case may be, is acting consistent with State law; + and + ``(C) the nurse practitioner or physician assistant + has the medical training or experience to fulfill the + nurse practitioner or physician assistant role described + in paragraph (1)(A)(i). + ``(3) Inclusion of providers and practitioners.--Nothing in + this subsection shall be construed as preventing an independence + at home medical practice from including a provider of services + or a participating practitioner described in section + 1842(b)(18)(C) that is affiliated with the practice under an + arrangement structured so that such provider of services or + practitioner participates in the demonstration program and + shares in any savings under the demonstration program. + ``(4) Quality and performance standards.--The Secretary + shall develop quality performance standards for independence at + home medical practices participating in the demonstration + program. + + ``(c) Payment Methodology.-- + ``(1) Establishment of target spending level.--The Secretary + shall establish an estimated annual spending target, for the + amount the Secretary estimates would have been spent in the + absence of the demonstration, for items and services + +[[Page 124 STAT. 406]] + + covered under parts A and B furnished to applicable + beneficiaries for each qualifying independence at home medical + practice under this section. Such spending targets shall be + determined on a per capita basis. Such spending targets shall + include a risk corridor that takes into account normal variation + in expenditures for items and services covered under parts A and + B furnished to such beneficiaries with the size of the corridor + being related to the number of applicable beneficiaries + furnished services by each independence at home medical + practice. The spending targets may also be adjusted for other + factors as the Secretary determines appropriate. + ``(2) Incentive payments.--Subject to performance on quality + measures, a qualifying independence at home medical practice is + eligible to receive an incentive payment under this section if + actual expenditures for a year for the applicable beneficiaries + it enrolls are less than the estimated spending target + established under paragraph (1) for such year. An incentive + payment for such year shall be equal to a portion (as determined + by the Secretary) of the amount by which actual expenditures + (including incentive payments under this paragraph) for + applicable beneficiaries under parts A and B for such year are + estimated to be less than 5 percent less than the estimated + spending target for such year, as determined under paragraph + (1). + + ``(d) Applicable Beneficiaries.-- + ``(1) Definition.--In this section, the term `applicable + beneficiary' means, with respect to a qualifying independence at + home medical practice, an individual who the practice has + determined-- + ``(A) is entitled to benefits under part A and + enrolled for benefits under part B; + ``(B) is not enrolled in a Medicare Advantage plan + under part C or a PACE program under section 1894; + ``(C) has 2 or more chronic illnesses, such as + congestive heart failure, diabetes, other dementias + designated by the Secretary, chronic obstructive + pulmonary disease, ischemic heart disease, stroke, + Alzheimer's Disease and neurodegenerative diseases, and + other diseases and conditions designated by the + Secretary which result in high costs under this title; + ``(D) within the past 12 months has had a + nonelective hospital admission; + ``(E) within the past 12 months has received acute + or subacute rehabilitation services; + ``(F) has 2 or more functional dependencies + requiring the assistance of another person (such as + bathing, dressing, toileting, walking, or feeding); and + ``(G) meets such other criteria as the Secretary + determines appropriate. + ``(2) Patient election to participate.-- + <> The Secretary shall determine an + appropriate method of ensuring that applicable beneficiaries + have agreed to enroll in an independence at home medical + practice under the demonstration program. Enrollment in the + demonstration program shall be voluntary. + ``(3) Beneficiary access to services.--Nothing in this + section shall be construed as encouraging physicians or nurse + +[[Page 124 STAT. 407]] + + practitioners to limit applicable beneficiary access to services + covered under this title and applicable beneficiaries shall not + be required to relinquish access to any benefit under this title + as a condition of receiving services from an independence at + home medical practice. + + ``(e) Implementation.-- + ``(1) Starting date.--The demonstration program shall begin + no later than January 1, 2012. An agreement with an independence + at home medical practice under the demonstration program may + cover not more than a 3-year period. + ``(2) No physician duplication in demonstration + participation.--The Secretary shall not pay an independence at + home medical practice under this section that participates in + section 1899. + ``(3) No beneficiary duplication in demonstration + participation.--The Secretary shall ensure that no applicable + beneficiary enrolled in an independence at home medical practice + under this section is participating in the programs under + section 1899. + ``(4) Preference.--In approving an independence at home + medical practice, the Secretary shall give preference to + practices that are-- + ``(A) located in high-cost areas of the country; + ``(B) have experience in furnishing health care + services to applicable beneficiaries in the home; and + ``(C) use electronic medical records, health + information technology, and individualized plans of + care. + ``(5) Limitation on number of practices.--In selecting + qualified independence at home medical practices to participate + under the demonstration program, the Secretary shall limit the + number of such practices so that the number of applicable + beneficiaries that may participate in the demonstration program + does not exceed 10,000. + ``(6) Waiver.--The Secretary may waive such provisions of + this title and title XI as the Secretary determines necessary in + order to implement the demonstration program. + ``(7) Administration.--Chapter 35 of title 44, United States + Code, shall not apply to this section. + + ``(f) Evaluation and Monitoring.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall evaluate each + independence at home medical practice under the demonstration + program to assess whether the practice achieved the results + described in subsection (a). + ``(2) Monitoring applicable beneficiaries.--The Secretary + may monitor data on expenditures and quality of services under + this title after an applicable beneficiary discontinues + receiving services under this title through a qualifying + independence at home medical practice. + + ``(g) Reports to Congress.--The Secretary shall conduct an +independent evaluation of the demonstration program and submit to +Congress a final report, including best practices under the +demonstration program. Such report shall include an analysis of the +demonstration program on coordination of care, expenditures under this +title, applicable beneficiary access to services, and the quality of +health care services provided to applicable beneficiaries. + ``(h) Funding.--For purposes of administering and carrying out the +demonstration program, other than for payments for items + +[[Page 124 STAT. 408]] + +and services furnished under this title and incentive payments under +subsection (c), in addition to funds otherwise appropriated, there shall +be transferred to the Secretary for the Center for Medicare & Medicaid +Services Program Management Account from the Federal Hospital Insurance +Trust Fund under section 1817 and the Federal Supplementary Medical +Insurance Trust Fund under section 1841 (in proportions determined +appropriate by the Secretary) $5,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2010 +through 2015. Amounts transferred under this subsection for a fiscal +year shall be available until expended. + ``(i) Termination.-- + ``(1) Mandatory termination.--The Secretary shall terminate + an agreement with an independence at home medical practice if-- + ``(A) the Secretary estimates or determines that + such practice will not receive an incentive payment for + the second of 2 consecutive years under the + demonstration program; or + ``(B) such practice fails to meet quality standards + during any year of the demonstration program. + ``(2) Permissive termination.--The Secretary may terminate + an agreement with an independence at home medical practice for + such other reasons determined appropriate by the Secretary.''. + +SEC. 3025. HOSPITAL READMISSIONS REDUCTION PROGRAM. + + (a) In General.--Section 1886 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395ww), as amended by sections 3001 and 3008, is amended by adding at +the end the following new subsection: + ``(q) Hospital Readmissions Reduction Program.-- + ``(1) In general.--With respect to payment for discharges + from an applicable hospital (as defined in paragraph (5)(C)) + occurring during a fiscal year beginning on or after October 1, + 2012, in order to account for excess readmissions in the + hospital, the Secretary shall reduce the payments that would + otherwise be made to such hospital under subsection (d) (or + section 1814(b)(3), as the case may be) for such a discharge by + an amount equal to the product of-- + ``(A) the base operating DRG payment amount (as + defined in paragraph (2)) for the discharge; and + ``(B) the adjustment factor (described in paragraph + (3)(A)) for the hospital for the fiscal year. + ``(2) Base operating drg payment amount defined.-- + ``(A) In general.-- <> Except as + provided in subparagraph (B), in this subsection, the + term `base operating DRG payment amount' means, with + respect to a hospital for a fiscal year-- + ``(i) the payment amount that would otherwise + be made under subsection (d) (determined without + regard to subsection (o)) for a discharge if this + subsection did not apply; reduced by + ``(ii) any portion of such payment amount that + is attributable to payments under paragraphs + (5)(A), (5)(B), (5)(F), and (12) of subsection + (d). + ``(B) Special rules for certain hospitals.-- + ``(i) Sole community hospitals and medicare- + dependent, small rural hospitals.--In the case of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 409]] + + a medicare-dependent, small rural hospital (with + respect to discharges occurring during fiscal + years 2012 and 2013) or a sole community hospital, + in applying subparagraph (A)(i), the payment + amount that would otherwise be made under + subsection (d) shall be determined without regard + to subparagraphs (I) and (L) of subsection (b)(3) + and subparagraphs (D) and (G) of subsection + (d)(5). + ``(ii) Hospitals paid under section 1814.-- + <> In the case of a + hospital that is paid under section 1814(b)(3), + the Secretary may exempt such hospitals provided + that States paid under such section submit an + annual report to the Secretary describing how a + similar program in the State for a participating + hospital or hospitals achieves or surpasses the + measured results in terms of patient health + outcomes and cost savings established herein with + respect to this section. + ``(3) Adjustment factor.-- + ``(A) In general.--For purposes of paragraph (1), + the adjustment factor under this paragraph for an + applicable hospital for a fiscal year is equal to the + greater of-- + ``(i) the ratio described in subparagraph (B) + for the hospital for the applicable period (as + defined in paragraph (5)(D)) for such fiscal year; + or + ``(ii) the floor adjustment factor specified + in subparagraph (C). + ``(B) Ratio.--The ratio described in this + subparagraph for a hospital for an applicable period is + equal to 1 minus the ratio of-- + ``(i) the aggregate payments for excess + readmissions (as defined in paragraph (4)(A)) with + respect to an applicable hospital for the + applicable period; and + ``(ii) the aggregate payments for all + discharges (as defined in paragraph (4)(B)) with + respect to such applicable hospital for such + applicable period. + ``(C) Floor adjustment factor.--For purposes of + subparagraph (A), the floor adjustment factor specified + in this subparagraph for-- + ``(i) fiscal year 2013 is 0.99; + ``(ii) fiscal year 2014 is 0.98; or + ``(iii) fiscal year 2015 and subsequent fiscal + years is 0.97. + ``(4) Aggregate payments, excess readmission ratio + defined.--For purposes of this subsection: + ``(A) Aggregate payments for excess readmissions.-- + The term `aggregate payments for excess readmissions' + means, for a hospital for an applicable period, the sum, + for applicable conditions (as defined in paragraph + (5)(A)), of the product, for each applicable condition, + of-- + ``(i) the base operating DRG payment amount + for such hospital for such applicable period for + such condition; + ``(ii) the number of admissions for such + condition for such hospital for such applicable + period; and + ``(iii) the excess readmissions ratio (as + defined in subparagraph (C)) for such hospital for + such applicable period minus 1. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 410]] + + ``(B) Aggregate payments for all discharges.--The + term `aggregate payments for all discharges' means, for + a hospital for an applicable period, the sum of the base + operating DRG payment amounts for all discharges for all + conditions from such hospital for such applicable + period. + ``(C) Excess readmission ratio.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), the + term `excess readmissions ratio' means, with + respect to an applicable condition for a hospital + for an applicable period, the ratio (but not less + than 1.0) of-- + ``(I) the risk adjusted readmissions + based on actual readmissions, as + determined consistent with a readmission + measure methodology that has been + endorsed under paragraph (5)(A)(ii)(I), + for an applicable hospital for such + condition with respect to such + applicable period; to + ``(II) the risk adjusted expected + readmissions (as determined consistent + with such a methodology) for such + hospital for such condition with respect + to such applicable period. + ``(ii) Exclusion of certain readmissions.--For + purposes of clause (i), with respect to a + hospital, excess readmissions shall not include + readmissions for an applicable condition for which + there are fewer than a minimum number (as + determined by the Secretary) of discharges for + such applicable condition for the applicable + period and such hospital. + ``(5) Definitions.--For purposes of this subsection: + ``(A) Applicable condition.--The term `applicable + condition' means, subject to subparagraph (B), a + condition or procedure selected by the Secretary among + conditions and procedures for which-- + ``(i) readmissions (as defined in subparagraph + (E)) that represent conditions or procedures that + are high volume or high expenditures under this + title (or other criteria specified by the + Secretary); and + ``(ii) measures of such readmissions-- + ``(I) have been endorsed by the + entity with a contract under section + 1890(a); and + ``(II) such endorsed measures have + exclusions for readmissions that are + unrelated to the prior discharge (such + as a planned readmission or transfer to + another applicable hospital). + ``(B) Expansion of applicable + conditions. <> --Beginning with + fiscal year 2015, the Secretary shall, to the extent + practicable, expand the applicable conditions beyond the + 3 conditions for which measures have been endorsed as + described in subparagraph (A)(ii)(I) as of the date of + the enactment of this subsection to the additional 4 + conditions that have been identified by the Medicare + Payment Advisory Commission in its report to Congress in + June 2007 and to other conditions and procedures as + determined appropriate by the Secretary. In expanding + such applicable conditions, the Secretary shall seek the + endorsement described in subparagraph (A)(ii)(I) but may + apply such measures without such an endorsement in the + case of a specified area or medical topic determined + appropriate by + +[[Page 124 STAT. 411]] + + the Secretary for which a feasible and practical measure + has not been endorsed by the entity with a contract + under section 1890(a) as long as due consideration is + given to measures that have been endorsed or adopted by + a consensus organization identified by the Secretary. + ``(C) Applicable hospital.--The term `applicable + hospital' means a subsection (d) hospital or a hospital + that is paid under section 1814(b)(3), as the case may + be. + ``(D) Applicable period.--The term `applicable + period' means, with respect to a fiscal year, such + period as the Secretary shall specify. + ``(E) Readmission.--The term `readmission' means, in + the case of an individual who is discharged from an + applicable hospital, the admission of the individual to + the same or another applicable hospital within a time + period specified by the Secretary from the date of such + discharge. Insofar as the discharge relates to an + applicable condition for which there is an endorsed + measure described in subparagraph (A)(ii)(I), such time + period (such as 30 days) shall be consistent with the + time period specified for such measure. + ``(6) Reporting hospital specific information.-- + ``(A) In general.-- <> The Secretary shall make information + available to the public regarding readmission rates of + each subsection (d) hospital under the program. + ``(B) Opportunity to review and submit + corrections.--The Secretary shall ensure that a + subsection (d) hospital has the opportunity to review, + and submit corrections for, the information to be made + public with respect to the hospital under subparagraph + (A) prior to such information being made public. + ``(C) Website.--Such information shall be posted on + the Hospital Compare Internet website in an easily + understandable format. + ``(7) Limitations on review.--There shall be no + administrative or judicial review under section 1869, section + 1878, or otherwise of the following: + ``(A) The determination of base operating DRG + payment amounts. + ``(B) The methodology for determining the adjustment + factor under paragraph (3), including excess + readmissions ratio under paragraph (4)(C), aggregate + payments for excess readmissions under paragraph (4)(A), + and aggregate payments for all discharges under + paragraph (4)(B), and applicable periods and applicable + conditions under paragraph (5). + ``(C) The measures of readmissions as described in + paragraph (5)(A)(ii). + ``(8) Readmission rates for all patients.-- + ``(A) Calculation of readmission.--The Secretary + shall calculate readmission rates for all patients (as + defined in subparagraph (D)) for a specified hospital + (as defined in subparagraph (D)(ii)) for an applicable + condition (as defined in paragraph (5)(B)) and other + conditions deemed appropriate by the Secretary for an + applicable period (as defined in paragraph (5)(D)) in + the same manner as used to calculate such readmission + rates for hospitals with + +[[Page 124 STAT. 412]] + + respect to this title and posted on the CMS Hospital + Compare website. + ``(B) Posting of hospital specific all patient + readmission rates.-- <> The + Secretary shall make information on all patient + readmission rates calculated under subparagraph (A) + available on the CMS Hospital Compare website in a form + and manner determined appropriate by the Secretary. The + Secretary may also make other information determined + appropriate by the Secretary available on such website. + ``(C) Hospital submission of all patient data.-- + ``(i) Except as provided for in clause (ii), + each specified hospital (as defined in + subparagraph (D)(ii)) shall submit to the + Secretary, in a form, manner and time specified by + the Secretary, data and information determined + necessary by the Secretary for the Secretary to + calculate the all patient readmission rates + described in subparagraph (A). + ``(ii) Instead of a specified hospital + submitting to the Secretary the data and + information described in clause (i), such data and + information may be submitted to the Secretary, on + behalf of such a specified hospital, by a state or + an entity determined appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(D) Definitions.--For purposes of this paragraph: + ``(i) The term `all patients' means patients + who are treated on an inpatient basis and + discharged from a specified hospital (as defined + in clause (ii)). + ``(ii) The term `specified hospital' means a + subsection (d) hospital, hospitals described in + clauses (i) through (v) of subsection (d)(1)(B) + and, as determined feasible and appropriate by the + Secretary, other hospitals not otherwise described + in this subparagraph.''. + + (b) Quality Improvement.--Part S of title III of the Public Health +Service Act, as amended by section 3015, is further amended by adding at +the end the following: + +``SEC. 399KK. <> QUALITY IMPROVEMENT PROGRAM FOR + HOSPITALS WITH A HIGH SEVERITY ADJUSTED READMISSION RATE. + + ``(a) Establishment.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> Not later than 2 + years after the date of enactment of this section, the Secretary + shall make available a program for eligible hospitals to improve + their readmission rates through the use of patient safety + organizations (as defined in section 921(4)). + ``(2) Eligible hospital defined.--In this subsection, the + term `eligible hospital' means a hospital that the Secretary + determines has a high rate of risk adjusted readmissions for the + conditions described in section 1886(q)(8)(A) of the Social + Security Act and has not taken appropriate steps to reduce such + readmissions and improve patient safety as evidenced through + historically high rates of readmissions, as determined by the + Secretary. + ``(3) Risk adjustment.--The Secretary shall utilize + appropriate risk adjustment measures to determine eligible + hospitals. + + ``(b) Report to the Secretary.-- <> As +determined appropriate by the Secretary, eligible hospitals and patient +safety organizations + +[[Page 124 STAT. 413]] + +working with those hospitals shall report to the Secretary on the +processes employed by the hospital to improve readmission rates and the +impact of such processes on readmission rates.''. + +SEC. 3026. <> COMMUNITY-BASED CARE + TRANSITIONS PROGRAM. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary shall establish a Community-Based +Care Transitions Program under which the Secretary provides funding to +eligible entities that furnish improved care transition services to +high-risk Medicare beneficiaries. + (b) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Eligible entity.--The term ``eligible entity'' means the + following: + (A) A subsection (d) hospital (as defined in section + 1886(d)(1)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395ww(d)(1)(B))) identified by the Secretary as having + a high readmission rate, such as under section 1886(q) + of the Social Security Act, as added by section 3025. + (B) An appropriate community-based organization that + provides care transition services under this section + across a continuum of care through arrangements with + subsection (d) hospitals (as so defined) to furnish the + services described in subsection (c)(2)(B)(i) and whose + governing body includes sufficient representation of + multiple health care stakeholders (including consumers). + (2) High-risk medicare beneficiary.--The term ``high-risk + Medicare beneficiary'' means a Medicare beneficiary who has + attained a minimum hierarchical condition category score, as + determined by the Secretary, based on a diagnosis of multiple + chronic conditions or other risk factors associated with a + hospital readmission or substandard transition into post- + hospitalization care, which may include 1 or more of the + following: + (A) Cognitive impairment. + (B) Depression. + (C) A history of multiple readmissions. + (D) Any other chronic disease or risk factor as + determined by the Secretary. + (3) Medicare beneficiary.--The term ``Medicare beneficiary'' + means an individual who is entitled to benefits under part A of + title XVIII of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395 et seq.) + and enrolled under part B of such title, but not enrolled under + part C of such title. + (4) Program.--The term ``program'' means the program + conducted under this section. + (5) Readmission.--The term ``readmission'' has the meaning + given such term in section 1886(q)(5)(E) of the Social Security + Act, as added by section 3025. + (6) Secretary.--The term ``Secretary'' means the Secretary + of Health and Human Services. + + (c) Requirements.-- + (1) Duration.-- + (A) In general.--The program shall be conducted for + a 5-year period, beginning January 1, 2011. + (B) Expansion.-- + <> The Secretary + may expand the duration and the scope of the program, to + the extent determined appropriate by the Secretary, if + the Secretary determines (and the Chief Actuary of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, with respect + to spending under this + +[[Page 124 STAT. 414]] + + title, certifies) that such expansion would reduce + spending under this title without reducing quality. + (2) Application; participation.-- + (A) In general.-- + (i) Application.--An eligible entity seeking + to participate in the program shall submit an + application to the Secretary at such time, in such + manner, and containing such information as the + Secretary may require. + (ii) Partnership.--If an eligible entity is a + hospital, such hospital shall enter into a + partnership with a community-based organization to + participate in the program. + (B) Intervention proposal.--Subject to subparagraph + (C), an application submitted under subparagraph (A)(i) + shall include a detailed proposal for at least 1 care + transition intervention, which may include the + following: + (i) Initiating care transition services for a + high-risk Medicare beneficiary not later than 24 + hours prior to the discharge of the beneficiary + from the eligible entity. + (ii) Arranging timely post-discharge follow-up + services to the high-risk Medicare beneficiary to + provide the beneficiary (and, as appropriate, the + primary caregiver of the beneficiary) with + information regarding responding to symptoms that + may indicate additional health problems or a + deteriorating condition. + (iii) Providing the high-risk Medicare + beneficiary (and, as appropriate, the primary + caregiver of the beneficiary) with assistance to + ensure productive and timely interactions between + patients and post-acute and outpatient providers. + (iv) Assessing and actively engaging with a + high-risk Medicare beneficiary (and, as + appropriate, the primary caregiver of the + beneficiary) through the provision of self- + management support and relevant information that + is specific to the beneficiary's condition. + (v) Conducting comprehensive medication review + and management (including, if appropriate, + counseling and self-management support). + (C) Limitation.--A care transition intervention + proposed under subparagraph (B) may not include payment + for services required under the discharge planning + process described in section 1861(ee) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(ee)). + (3) Selection.--In selecting eligible entities to + participate in the program, the Secretary shall give priority to + eligible entities that-- + (A) participate in a program administered by the + Administration on Aging to provide concurrent care + transitions interventions with multiple hospitals and + practitioners; or + (B) provide services to medically underserved + populations, small communities, and rural areas. + + (d) Implementation.--Notwithstanding any other provision of law, the +Secretary may implement the provisions of this section by program +instruction or otherwise. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 415]] + + (e) Waiver Authority.--The Secretary may waive such requirements of +titles XI and XVIII of the Social Security Act as may be necessary to +carry out the program. + (f) Funding.--For purposes of carrying out this section, the +Secretary of Health and Human Services shall provide for the transfer, +from the Federal Hospital Insurance Trust Fund under section 1817 of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i) and the Federal Supplementary +Medical Insurance Trust Fund under section 1841 of such Act (42 U.S.C. +1395t), in such proportion as the Secretary determines appropriate, of +$500,000,000, to the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services Program +Management Account for the period of fiscal years 2011 through 2015. +Amounts transferred under the preceding sentence shall remain available +until expended. + +SEC. 3027. EXTENSION OF GAINSHARING DEMONSTRATION. + + (a) In General.--Subsection (d)(3) of section 5007 of the Deficit +Reduction Act of 2005 (Public Law 109-171) <> is amended by inserting ``(or September 30, 2011, in the case of +a demonstration project in operation as of October 1, 2008)'' after +``December 31, 2009''. + + (b) Funding.-- + (1) In general.--Subsection (f)(1) of such section is + amended by inserting ``and for fiscal year 2010, $1,600,000,'' + after ``$6,000,000,''. + (2) Availability.--Subsection (f)(2) of such section is + amended by striking ``2010'' and inserting ``2014 or until + expended''. + + (c) Reports.-- + (1) Quality improvement and savings.--Subsection (e)(3) of + such section is amended by striking ``December 1, 2008'' and + inserting ``March 31, 2011''. + (2) Final report.--Subsection (e)(4) of such section is + amended by striking ``May 1, 2010'' and inserting ``March 31, + 2013''. + + Subtitle B--Improving Medicare for Patients and Providers + +PART I--ENSURING BENEFICIARY ACCESS TO PHYSICIAN CARE AND OTHER SERVICES + +SEC. 3101. INCREASE IN THE PHYSICIAN PAYMENT UPDATE. + + Section 1848(d) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4(d)) is +amended by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(10) Update for 2010.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to paragraphs (7)(B), + (8)(B), and (9)(B), in lieu of the update to the single + conversion factor established in paragraph (1)(C) that + would otherwise apply for 2010, the update to the single + conversion factor shall be 0.5 percent. + ``(B) No effect on computation of conversion factor + for 2011 and subsequent years.--The conversion factor + under this subsection shall be computed under paragraph + (1)(A) for 2011 and subsequent years as if subparagraph + (A) had never applied.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 416]] + +SEC. 3102. EXTENSION OF THE WORK GEOGRAPHIC INDEX FLOOR AND REVISIONS TO + THE PRACTICE EXPENSE GEOGRAPHIC ADJUSTMENT UNDER THE + MEDICARE PHYSICIAN FEE SCHEDULE. + + (a) Extension of Work GPCI Floor.--Section 1848(e)(1)(E) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4(e)(1)(E)) is amended by striking +``before January 1, 2010'' and inserting ``before January 1, 2011''. + (b) Practice Expense Geographic Adjustment for 2010 and Subsequent +Years.--Section 1848(e)(1) of the Social Security Act ( <> 42 U.S.C. 1395w4(e)(1)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``and (G)'' and + inserting ``(G), and (H)''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(H) Practice expense geographic adjustment for + 2010 and subsequent years.-- + ``(i) For 2010.--Subject to clause (iii), for + services furnished during 2010, the employee wage + and rent portions of the practice expense + geographic index described in subparagraph (A)(i) + shall reflect \3/4\ of the difference between the + relative costs of employee wages and rents in each + of the different fee schedule areas and the + national average of such employee wages and rents. + ``(ii) For 2011.--Subject to clause (iii), for + services furnished during 2011, the employee wage + and rent portions of the practice expense + geographic index described in subparagraph (A)(i) + shall reflect \1/2\ of the difference between the + relative costs of employee wages and rents in each + of the different fee schedule areas and the + national average of such employee wages and rents. + ``(iii) Hold harmless.--The practice expense + portion of the geographic adjustment factor + applied in a fee schedule area for services + furnished in 2010 or 2011 shall not, as a result + of the application of clause (i) or (ii), be + reduced below the practice expense portion of the + geographic adjustment factor under subparagraph + (A)(i) (as calculated prior to the application of + such clause (i) or (ii), respectively) for such + area for such year. + ``(iv) Analysis.--The Secretary shall analyze + current methods of establishing practice expense + geographic adjustments under subparagraph (A)(i) + and evaluate data that fairly and reliably + establishes distinctions in the costs of operating + a medical practice in the different fee schedule + areas. Such analysis shall include an evaluation + of the following: + ``(I) The feasibility of using + actual data or reliable survey data + developed by medical organizations on + the costs of operating a medical + practice, including office rents and + non-physician staff wages, in different + fee schedule areas. + ``(II) The office expense portion of + the practice expense geographic + adjustment described in subparagraph + (A)(i), including the extent to which + +[[Page 124 STAT. 417]] + + types of office expenses are determined + in local markets instead of national + markets. + ``(III) The weights assigned to each + of the categories within the practice + expense geographic adjustment described + in subparagraph (A)(i). + ``(v) <> Revision for 2012 + and subsequent years.--As a result of the analysis + described in clause (iv), the Secretary shall, not + later than January 1, 2012, make appropriate + adjustments to the practice expense geographic + adjustment described in subparagraph (A)(i) to + ensure accurate geographic adjustments across fee + schedule areas, including-- + ``(I) basing the office rents + component and its weight on office + expenses that vary among fee schedule + areas; and + ``(II) considering a representative + range of professional and non- + professional personnel employed in a + medical office based on the use of the + American Community Survey data or other + reliable data for wage adjustments. + Such adjustments shall be made without regard to + adjustments made pursuant to clauses (i) and (ii) + and shall be made in a budget neutral manner.''. + +SEC. 3103. EXTENSION OF EXCEPTIONS PROCESS FOR MEDICARE THERAPY CAPS. + + Section 1833(g)(5) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395l(g)(5)) is amended by striking ``December 31, 2009'' and inserting +``December 31, 2010''. + +SEC. 3104. EXTENSION OF PAYMENT FOR TECHNICAL COMPONENT OF CERTAIN + PHYSICIAN PATHOLOGY SERVICES. + + Section 542(c) of the Medicare, Medicaid, and SCHIP Benefits +Improvement and Protection Act of 2000 (as enacted into law by section +1(a)(6) of Public Law 106-554), as amended by section 732 of the +Medicare Prescription Drug, Improvement, and Modernization Act of 2003 +(42 U.S.C. 1395w-4 note), section 104 of division B of the Tax Relief +and Health Care Act of 2006 (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4 note), section 104 of the +Medicare, Medicaid, and SCHIP Extension Act of 2007 (Public Law 110- +173), and section 136 of the Medicare Improvements for Patients and +Providers Act of 2008 (Public Law 110-275), is amended by striking ``and +2009'' and inserting ``2009, and 2010''. + +SEC. 3105. EXTENSION OF AMBULANCE ADD-ONS. + + (a) Ground Ambulance.--Section 1834(l)(13)(A) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(l)(13)(A)) is amended-- + (1) in the matter preceding clause (i)-- + (A) by striking ``2007, and for'' and inserting + ``2007, for''; and + (B) by striking ``2010'' and inserting ``2010, and + for such services furnished on or after April 1, 2010, + and before January 1, 2011,''; and + (2) in each of clauses (i) and (ii), by inserting ``, and on + or after April 1, 2010, and before January 1, 2011'' after + ``January 1, 2010'' each place it appears. + + (b) Air Ambulance.--Section 146(b)(1) of the Medicare Improvements +for Patients and Providers Act of 2008 <> (Public Law + +[[Page 124 STAT. 418]] + +110-275) is amended by striking ``December 31, 2009'' and inserting +``December 31, 2009, and during the period beginning on April 1, 2010, +and ending on January 1, 2011''. + + (c) Super Rural Ambulance.--Section 1834(l)(12)(A) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(l)(12)(A)) is amended by striking ``2010'' +and inserting ``2010, and on or after April 1, 2010, and before January +1, 2011''. + +SEC. 3106. EXTENSION OF CERTAIN PAYMENT RULES FOR LONG-TERM CARE + HOSPITAL SERVICES AND OF MORATORIUM ON THE ESTABLISHMENT OF + CERTAIN HOSPITALS AND FACILITIES. + + (a) Extension of Certain Payment Rules.--Section 114(c) of the +Medicare, Medicaid, and SCHIP Extension Act of 2007 (42 U.S.C. 1395ww +note), as amended by section 4302(a) of the American Recovery and +Reinvestment Act (Public Law 111-5), is further amended by striking ``3- +year period'' each place it appears and inserting ``4-year period''. + (b) Extension of Moratorium.--Section 114(d)(1) of such Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395ww note), in the matter preceding subparagraph (A), is +amended by striking ``3-year period'' and inserting ``4-year period''. + +SEC. 3107. EXTENSION OF PHYSICIAN FEE SCHEDULE MENTAL HEALTH ADD-ON. + + Section 138(a)(1) of the Medicare Improvements for Patients and +Providers Act of 2008 (Public Law 110-275) <> is amended by striking ``December 31, 2009'' and inserting +``December 31, 2010''. + +SEC. 3108. PERMITTING PHYSICIAN ASSISTANTS TO ORDER POST-HOSPITAL + EXTENDED CARE SERVICES. + + (a) Ordering Post-Hospital Extended Care Services.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1814(a)(2) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395f(a)(2)), in the matter preceding + subparagraph (A), is amended by striking ``or clinical nurse + specialist'' and inserting ``, a clinical nurse specialist, or a + physician assistant (as those terms are defined in section + 1861(aa)(5))'' after ``nurse practitioner''. + (2) Conforming amendment.--Section 1814(a) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395f(a)) is amended, in the second + sentence, by striking ``or clinical nurse specialist'' and + inserting ``clinical nurse specialist, or physician assistant'' + after ``nurse practitioner,''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to items and services furnished on or +after January 1, 2011. + +SEC. 3109. EXEMPTION OF CERTAIN PHARMACIES FROM ACCREDITATION + REQUIREMENTS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1834(a)(20) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395m(a)(20)), as added by section 154(b)(1)(A) of the Medicare +Improvements for Patients and Providers Act of 2008 (Public Law 100- +275), is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (F)(i)-- + (A) by inserting ``and subparagraph (G)'' after + ``clause (ii)''; and + (B) by inserting ``, except that the Secretary shall + not require a pharmacy to have submitted to the + Secretary + +[[Page 124 STAT. 419]] + + such evidence of accreditation prior to January 1, + 2011'' before the semicolon at the end; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(G) Application of accreditation requirement to + certain pharmacies.-- + ``(i) In general.--With respect to items and + services furnished on or after January 1, 2011, in + implementing quality standards under this + paragraph-- + ``(I) subject to subclause (II), in + applying such standards and the + accreditation requirement of + subparagraph (F)(i) with respect to + pharmacies described in clause (ii) + furnishing such items and services, such + standards and accreditation requirement + shall not apply to such pharmacies; and + ``(II) the Secretary may apply to + such pharmacies an alternative + accreditation requirement established by + the Secretary if the Secretary + determines such alternative + accreditation requirement is more + appropriate for such pharmacies. + ``(ii) <> Pharmacies + described.--A pharmacy described in this clause is + a pharmacy that meets each of the following + criteria: + ``(I) The total billings by the + pharmacy for such items and services + under this title are less than 5 percent + of total pharmacy sales, as determined + based on the average total pharmacy + sales for the previous 3 calendar years, + 3 fiscal years, or other yearly period + specified by the Secretary. + ``(II) The pharmacy has been + enrolled under section 1866(j) as a + supplier of durable medical equipment, + prosthetics, orthotics, and supplies, + has been issued (which may include the + renewal of) a provider number for at + least 5 years, and for which a final + adverse action (as defined in section + 424.57(a) of title 42, Code of Federal + Regulations) has not been imposed in the + past 5 years. + ``(III) The pharmacy submits to the + Secretary an attestation, in a form and + manner, and at a time, specified by the + Secretary, that the pharmacy meets the + criteria described in subclauses (I) and + (II). Such attestation shall be subject + to section 1001 of title 18, United + States Code. + ``(IV) The pharmacy agrees to submit + materials as requested by the Secretary, + or during the course of an audit + conducted on a random sample of + pharmacies selected annually, to verify + that the pharmacy meets the criteria + described in subclauses (I) and (II). + Materials submitted under the preceding + sentence shall include a certification + by an accountant on behalf of the + pharmacy or the submission of tax + returns filed by the pharmacy during the + relevant periods, as requested by the + Secretary.''. + + (b) <> Administration.--Notwithstanding +any other provision of law, the Secretary may implement the amendments +made by subsection (a) by program instruction or otherwise. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 420]] + + (c) <> Rule of Construction.--Nothing in +the provisions of or amendments made by this section shall be construed +as affecting the application of an accreditation requirement for +pharmacies to qualify for bidding in a competitive acquisition area +under section 1847 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-3). + +SEC. 3110. PART B SPECIAL ENROLLMENT PERIOD FOR DISABLED TRICARE + BENEFICIARIES. + + (a) In General.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1837 of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395p) is amended by adding at the end the following new + subsection: + + ``(l)(1) In the case of any individual who is a covered beneficiary +(as defined in section 1072(5) of title 10, United States Code) at the +time the individual is entitled to part A under section 226(b) or +section 226A and who is eligible to enroll but who has elected not to +enroll (or to be deemed enrolled) during the individual's initial +enrollment period, there shall be a special enrollment period described +in paragraph (2). + ``(2) The special enrollment period described in this paragraph, +with respect to an individual, is the 12-month period beginning on the +day after the last day of the initial enrollment period of the +individual or, if later, the 12-month period beginning with the month +the individual is notified of enrollment under this section. + ``(3) In the case of an individual who enrolls during the special +enrollment period provided under paragraph (1), the coverage period +under this part shall begin on the first day of the month in which the +individual enrolls, or, at the option of the individual, the first month +after the end of the individual's initial enrollment period. + ``(4) An individual may only enroll during the special enrollment +period provided under paragraph (1) one time during the individual's +lifetime. + ``(5) The Secretary shall ensure that the materials relating to +coverage under this part that are provided to an individual described in +paragraph (1) prior to the individual's initial enrollment period +contain information concerning the impact of not enrolling under this +part, including the impact on health care benefits under the TRICARE +program under chapter 55 of title 10, United States Code. + ``(6) The Secretary of Defense shall collaborate with the Secretary +of Health and Human Services and the Commissioner of Social Security to +provide for the accurate identification of individuals described in +paragraph (1). The Secretary of Defense shall provide such individuals +with notification with respect to this subsection. The Secretary of +Defense shall collaborate with the Secretary of Health and Human +Services and the Commissioner of Social Security to ensure appropriate +follow up pursuant to any notification provided under the preceding +sentence.''. + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendment made by paragraph (1) shall apply to elections made + with respect to initial enrollment periods that end after the + date of the enactment of this Act. + + (b) Waiver of Increase of Premium.--Section 1839(b) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395r(b)) is amended by striking ``section +1837(i)(4)'' and inserting ``subsection (i)(4) or (l) of section 1837''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 421]] + +SEC. 3111. PAYMENT FOR BONE DENSITY TESTS. + + (a) Payment.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1848 of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395w-4) is amended-- + (A) in subsection (b)-- + (i) in paragraph (4)(B), by inserting ``, and + for 2010 and 2011, dual-energy x-ray + absorptiometry services (as described in paragraph + (6))'' before the period at the end; and + (ii) by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(6) Treatment of bone mass scans.--For dual-energy x-ray + absorptiometry services (identified in 2006 by HCPCS codes 76075 + and 76077 (and any succeeding codes)) furnished during 2010 and + 2011, instead of the payment amount that would otherwise be + determined under this section for such years, the payment amount + shall be equal to 70 percent of the product of-- + ``(A) the relative value for the service (as + determined in subsection (c)(2)) for 2006; + ``(B) the conversion factor (established under + subsection (d)) for 2006; and + ``(C) the geographic adjustment factor (established + under subsection (e)(2)) for the service for the fee + schedule area for 2010 and 2011, respectively.''; and + (B) in subsection (c)(2)(B)(iv)-- + (i) in subclause (II), by striking ``and'' at + the end; + (ii) in subclause (III), by striking the + period at the end and inserting ``; and''; and + (iii) by adding at the end the following new + subclause: + ``(IV) subsection (b)(6) shall not + be taken into account in applying clause + (ii)(II) for 2010 or 2011.''. + (2) <> Implementation.-- + Notwithstanding any other provision of law, the Secretary may + implement the amendments made by paragraph (1) by program + instruction or otherwise. + + (b) Study and Report by the Institute of Medicine.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + is authorized to enter into an agreement with the Institute of + Medicine of the National Academies to conduct a study on the + ramifications of Medicare payment reductions for dual-energy x- + ray absorptiometry (as described in section 1848(b)(6) of the + Social Security Act, as added by subsection (a)(1)) during 2007, + 2008, and 2009 on beneficiary access to bone mass density tests. + (2) Report.--An agreement entered into under paragraph (1) + shall provide for the Institute of Medicine to submit to the + Secretary and to Congress a report containing the results of the + study conducted under such paragraph. + +SEC. 3112. REVISION TO THE MEDICARE IMPROVEMENT FUND. + + Section 1898(b)(1)(A) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395iii) +is amended by striking ``$22,290,000,000'' and inserting ``$0''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 422]] + +SEC. 3113. <> TREATMENT OF CERTAIN COMPLEX + DIAGNOSTIC LABORATORY TESTS. + + (a) Demonstration Project.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall conduct + a demonstration project under part B title XVIII of the Social + Security Act under which separate payments are made under such + part for complex diagnostic laboratory tests provided to + individuals under such part. Under the demonstration project, + the Secretary shall establish appropriate payment rates for such + tests. + (2) Covered complex diagnostic laboratory test defined.--In + this section, the term ``complex diagnostic laboratory test'' + means a diagnostic laboratory test-- + (A) that is an analysis of gene protein expression, + topographic genotyping, or a cancer chemotherapy + sensitivity assay; + (B) that is determined by the Secretary to be a + laboratory test for which there is not an alternative + test having equivalent performance characteristics; + (C) which is billed using a Health Care Procedure + Coding System (HCPCS) code other than a not otherwise + classified code under such Coding System; + (D) which is approved or cleared by the Food and + Drug Administration or is covered under title XVIII of + the Social Security Act; and + (E) is described in section 1861(s)(3) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(s)(3)). + (3) Separate payment defined.--In this section, the term + ``separate payment'' means direct payment to a laboratory + (including a hospital-based or independent laboratory) that + performs a complex diagnostic laboratory test with respect to a + specimen collected from an individual during a period in which + the individual is a patient of a hospital if the test is + performed after such period of hospitalization and if separate + payment would not otherwise be made under title XVIII of the + Social Security Act by reason of sections 1862(a)(14) and + 1866(a)(1)(H)(i) of the such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395y(a)(14); 42 + U.S.C. 1395cc(a)(1)(H)(i)). + + (b) Duration.--Subject to subsection (c)(2), the Secretary shall +conduct the demonstration project under this section for the 2-year +period beginning on July 1, 2011. + (c) Payments and Limitation.--Payments under the demonstration +project under this section shall-- + (1) be made from the Federal Supplemental Medical Insurance + Trust Fund under section 1841 of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395t); and + (2) may not exceed $100,000,000. + + (d) Report.--Not later than 2 years after the completion of the +demonstration project under this section, the Secretary shall submit to +Congress a report on the project. Such report shall include-- + (1) an assessment of the impact of the demonstration project + on access to care, quality of care, health outcomes, and + expenditures under title XVIII of the Social Security Act + (including any savings under such title); and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 423]] + + (2) such recommendations as the Secretary determines + appropriate. + + (e) Implementation Funding.--For purposes of administering this +section (including preparing and submitting the report under subsection +(d)), the Secretary shall provide for the transfer, from the Federal +Supplemental Medical Insurance Trust Fund under section 1841 of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395t), to the Centers for Medicare & +Medicaid Services Program Management Account, of $5,000,000. Amounts +transferred under the preceding sentence shall remain available until +expended. + +SEC. 3114. IMPROVED ACCESS FOR CERTIFIED NURSE-MIDWIFE SERVICES. + + Section 1833(a)(1)(K) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395l(a)(1)(K)) is amended by inserting ``(or 100 percent for services +furnished on or after January 1, 2011)'' after ``1992, 65 percent''. + + PART II--RURAL PROTECTIONS + +SEC. 3121. EXTENSION OF OUTPATIENT HOLD HARMLESS PROVISION. + + (a) In General.--Section 1833(t)(7)(D)(i) of the Social Security Act +(42 U.S.C. 1395l(t)(7)(D)(i)) is amended-- + (1) in subclause (II)-- + (A) in the first sentence, by striking ``2010''and + inserting ``2011''; and + (B) in the second sentence, by striking ``or 2009'' + and inserting ``, 2009, or 2010''; and + (2) in subclause (III), by striking ``January 1, 2010'' and + inserting ``January 1, 2011''. + + (b) Permitting All Sole Community Hospitals To Be Eligible for Hold +Harmless.--Section 1833(t)(7)(D)(i)(III) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395l(t)(7)(D)(i)(III)) is amended by adding at the end the +following new sentence: <> ``In the +case of covered OPD services furnished on or after January 1, 2010, and +before January 1, 2011, the preceding sentence shall be applied without +regard to the 100-bed limitation.''. + +SEC. 3122. <> EXTENSION OF MEDICARE REASONABLE + COSTS PAYMENTS FOR CERTAIN CLINICAL DIAGNOSTIC LABORATORY + TESTS FURNISHED TO HOSPITAL PATIENTS IN CERTAIN RURAL AREAS. + + Section 416(b) of the Medicare Prescription Drug, Improvement, and +Modernization Act of 2003 (42 U.S.C. 1395l-4), as amended by section 105 +of division B of the Tax Relief and Health Care Act of 2006 (42 U.S.C. +1395l note) and section 107 of the Medicare, Medicaid, and SCHIP +Extension Act of 2007 (42 U.S.C. 1395l note), is amended by inserting +``or during the 1-year period beginning on July 1, 2010'' before the +period at the end. + +SEC. 3123. <> EXTENSION OF THE RURAL + COMMUNITY HOSPITAL DEMONSTRATION PROGRAM. + + (a) One-year Extension.--Section 410A of the Medicare Prescription +Drug, Improvement, and Modernization Act of 2003 (Public Law 108-173; +117 Stat. 2272) is amended by adding at the end the following new +subsection: + ``(g) One-Year Extension of Demonstration Program.-- + ``(1) In general.--Subject to the succeeding provisions of + this subsection, the Secretary shall conduct the demonstration + +[[Page 124 STAT. 424]] + + program under this section for an additional 1-year period (in + this section referred to as the `1-year extension period') that + begins on the date immediately following the last day of the + initial 5-year period under subsection (a)(5). + ``(2) Expansion of demonstration states.--Notwithstanding + subsection (a)(2), during the 1-year extension period, the + Secretary shall expand the number of States with low population + densities determined by the Secretary under such subsection to + 20. In determining which States to include in such expansion, + the Secretary shall use the same criteria and data that the + Secretary used to determine the States under such subsection for + purposes of the initial 5-year period. + ``(3) Increase in maximum number of hospitals participating + in the demonstration program.--Notwithstanding subsection + (a)(4), during the 1-year extension period, not more than 30 + rural community hospitals may participate in the demonstration + program under this section. + ``(4) No affect on hospitals in demonstration program on + date of enactment.--In the case of a rural community hospital + that is participating in the demonstration program under this + section as of the last day of the initial 5-year period, the + Secretary shall provide for the continued participation of such + rural community hospital in the demonstration program during the + 1-year extension period unless the rural community hospital + makes an election, in such form and manner as the Secretary may + specify, to discontinue such participation.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendments.--Subsection (a)(5) of section 410A of the +Medicare Prescription Drug, Improvement, and Modernization Act of 2003 +(Public Law 108-173; 117 Stat. 2272) is amended by inserting ``(in this +section referred to as the `initial 5-year period') and, as provided in +subsection (g), for the 1-year extension period'' after ``5-year +period''. + (c) Technical Amendments.-- + (1) Subsection (b) of section 410A of the Medicare + Prescription Drug, Improvement, and Modernization Act of 2003 + (Public Law 108-173; 117 Stat. 2272) is amended-- + (A) in paragraph (1)(B)(ii), by striking ``2)'' and + inserting ``2))''; and + (B) in paragraph (2), by inserting ``cost'' before + ``reporting period'' the first place such term appears + in each of subparagraphs (A) and (B). + (2) Subsection (f)(1) of section 410A of the Medicare + Prescription Drug, Improvement, and Modernization Act of 2003 + (Public Law 108-173; 117 Stat. 2272) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (A)(ii), by striking ``paragraph + (2)'' and inserting ``subparagraph (B)''; and + (B) in subparagraph (B), by striking ``paragraph + (1)(B)'' and inserting ``subparagraph (A)(ii)''. + +SEC. 3124. EXTENSION OF THE MEDICARE-DEPENDENT HOSPITAL (MDH) PROGRAM. + + (a) Extension of Payment Methodology.--Section 1886(d)(5)(G) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(5)(G)) is amended-- + (1) in clause (i), by striking ``October 1, 2011'' and + inserting ``October 1, 2012''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 425]] + + (2) in clause (ii)(II), by striking ``October 1, 2011'' and + inserting ``October 1, 2012''. + + (b) Conforming Amendments.-- + (1) Extension of target amount.--Section 1886(b)(3)(D) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(b)(3)(D)) is amended-- + (A) in the matter preceding clause (i), by striking + ``October 1, 2011'' and inserting ``October 1, 2012''; + and + (B) in clause (iv), by striking ``through fiscal + year 2011'' and inserting ``through fiscal year 2012''. + (2) Permitting hospitals to decline reclassification.-- + Section 13501(e)(2) of the Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act of + 1993 (42 U.S.C. 1395ww note) is amended by striking ``through + fiscal year 2011'' and inserting ``through fiscal year 2012''. + +SEC. 3125. TEMPORARY IMPROVEMENTS TO THE MEDICARE INPATIENT HOSPITAL + PAYMENT ADJUSTMENT FOR LOW-VOLUME HOSPITALS. + + Section 1886(d)(12) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395ww(d)(12)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A), by inserting ``or (D)'' after + ``subparagraph (B)''; + (2) in subparagraph (B), in the matter preceding clause (i), + by striking ``The Secretary'' and inserting ``For discharges + occurring in fiscal years 2005 through 2010 and for discharges + occurring in fiscal year 2013 and subsequent fiscal years, the + Secretary''; + (3) in subparagraph (C)(i)-- + (A) by inserting ``(or, with respect to fiscal years + 2011 and 2012, 15 road miles)'' after ``25 road miles''; + and + (B) by inserting ``(or, with respect to fiscal years + 2011 and 2012, 1,500 discharges of individuals entitled + to, or enrolled for, benefits under part A)'' after + ``800 discharges''; and + (4) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(D) Temporary applicable percentage increase.--For + discharges occurring in fiscal years 2011 and 2012, the + Secretary shall determine an applicable percentage + increase for purposes of subparagraph (A) using a + continuous linear sliding scale ranging from 25 percent + for low-volume hospitals with 200 or fewer discharges of + individuals entitled to, or enrolled for, benefits under + part A in the fiscal year to 0 percent for low-volume + hospitals with greater than 1,500 discharges of such + individuals in the fiscal year.''. + +SEC. 3126. IMPROVEMENTS TO THE DEMONSTRATION PROJECT ON COMMUNITY HEALTH + INTEGRATION MODELS IN CERTAIN RURAL COUNTIES. + + (a) Removal of Limitation on Number of Eligible Counties Selected.-- +Subsection (d)(3) of section 123 of the Medicare Improvements for +Patients and Providers Act of 2008 (42 U.S.C. 1395i-4 note) is amended +by striking ``not more than 6''. + (b) Removal of References to Rural Health Clinic Services and +Inclusion of Physicians' Services in Scope of Demonstration Project.-- +Such section 123 is amended-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 426]] + + (1) in subsection (d)(4)(B)(i)(3), by striking subclause + (III); and + (2) in subsection (j)-- + (A) in paragraph (8), by striking subparagraph (B) + and inserting the following: + ``(B) Physicians' services (as defined in section + 1861(q) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395x(q)).''; + (B) by striking paragraph (9); and + (C) by redesignating paragraph (10) as paragraph + (9). + +SEC. 3127. MEDPAC STUDY ON ADEQUACY OF MEDICARE PAYMENTS FOR HEALTH CARE + PROVIDERS SERVING IN RURAL AREAS. + + (a) Study.--The Medicare Payment Advisory Commission shall conduct a +study on the adequacy of payments for items and services furnished by +providers of services and suppliers in rural areas under the Medicare +program under title XVIII of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395 et +seq.). Such study shall include an analysis of-- + (1) any adjustments in payments to providers of services and + suppliers that furnish items and services in rural areas; + (2) access by Medicare beneficiaries to items and services + in rural areas; + (3) the adequacy of payments to providers of services and + suppliers that furnish items and services in rural areas; and + (4) the quality of care furnished in rural areas. + + (b) Report.--Not later than January 1, 2011, the Medicare Payment +Advisory Commission shall submit to Congress a report containing the +results of the study conducted under subsection (a). Such report shall +include recommendations on appropriate modifications to any adjustments +in payments to providers of services and suppliers that furnish items +and services in rural areas, together with recommendations for such +legislation and administrative action as the Medicare Payment Advisory +Commission determines appropriate. + +SEC. 3128. TECHNICAL CORRECTION RELATED TO CRITICAL ACCESS HOSPITAL + SERVICES. + + (a) In General.--Subsections (g)(2)(A) and (l)(8) of section 1834 of +the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m) are each amended by inserting +``101 percent of'' before ``the reasonable costs''. + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by subsection (a) shall take effect as if included in the enactment +of section 405(a) of the Medicare Prescription Drug, Improvement, and +Modernization Act of 2003 (Public Law 108-173; 117 Stat. 2266). + +SEC. 3129. EXTENSION OF AND REVISIONS TO MEDICARE RURAL HOSPITAL + FLEXIBILITY PROGRAM. + + (a) Authorization.--Section 1820(j) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395i-4(j)) is amended-- + (1) by striking ``2010, and for'' and inserting ``2010, + for''; and + (2) by inserting ``and for making grants to all States under + subsection (g), such sums as may be necessary in each of fiscal + years 2011 and 2012, to remain available until expended'' before + the period at the end. + + (b) Use of Funds.--Section 1820(g)(3) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395i-4(g)(3)) is amended-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 427]] + + (1) in subparagraph (A), by inserting ``and to assist such + hospitals in participating in delivery system reforms under the + provisions of and amendments made by the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act, such as value-based purchasing programs, + accountable care organizations under section 1899, the National + pilot program on payment bundling under section 1866D, and other + delivery system reform programs determined appropriate by the + Secretary'' before the period at the end; and + (2) in subparagraph (E)-- + (A) by striking ``, and to offset'' and inserting + ``, to offset''; and + (B) by inserting ``and to participate in delivery + system reforms under the provisions of and amendments + made by the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, + such as value-based purchasing programs, accountable + care organizations under section 1899, the National + pilot program on payment bundling under section 1866D, + and other delivery system reform programs determined + appropriate by the Secretary'' before the period at the + end. + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to grants made on or after January 1, +2010. + + PART III--IMPROVING PAYMENT ACCURACY + +SEC. 3131. PAYMENT ADJUSTMENTS FOR HOME HEALTH CARE. + + (a) Rebasing Home Health Prospective Payment Amount.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1895(b)(3)(A) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395fff(b)(3)(A)) is amended-- + (A) in clause (i)(III), by striking ``For periods'' + and inserting ``Subject to clause (iii), for periods''; + and + (B) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(iii) Adjustment for 2013 and subsequent + years.-- + ``(I) In general.--Subject to + subclause (II), for 2013 and subsequent + years, the amount (or amounts) that + would otherwise be applicable under + clause (i)(III) shall be adjusted by a + percentage determined appropriate by the + Secretary to reflect such factors as + changes in the number of visits in an + episode, the mix of services in an + episode, the level of intensity of + services in an episode, the average cost + of providing care per episode, and other + factors that the Secretary considers to + be relevant. In conducting the analysis + under the preceding sentence, the + Secretary may consider differences + between hospital-based and freestanding + agencies, between for-profit and + nonprofit agencies, and between the + resource costs of urban and rural + agencies. Such adjustment shall be made + before the update under subparagraph (B) + is applied for the year. + ``(II) Transition.--The Secretary + shall provide for a 4-year phase-in (in + equal increments) of the adjustment + under subclause (I), with such + adjustment being fully implemented for + 2016. During each year of such phase-in, + the amount of any + +[[Page 124 STAT. 428]] + + adjustment under subclause (I) for the + year may not exceed 3.5 percent of the + amount (or amounts) applicable under + clause (i)(III) as of the date of + enactment of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act.''. + (2) MedPAC study and report.-- + (A) Study.--The Medicare Payment Advisory Commission + shall conduct a study on the implementation of the + amendments made by paragraph (1). Such study shall + include an analysis of the impact of such amendments + on-- + (i) access to care; + (ii) quality outcomes; + (iii) the number of home health agencies; and + (iv) rural agencies, urban agencies, for- + profit agencies, and nonprofit agencies. + (B) Report.--Not later than January 1, 2015, the + Medicare Payment Advisory Commission shall submit to + Congress a report on the study conducted under + subparagraph (A), together with recommendations for such + legislation and administrative action as the Commission + determines appropriate. + + (b) Program-specific Outlier Cap.--Section 1895(b) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395fff(b)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (3)(C), by striking ``the aggregate'' and + all that follows through the period at the end and inserting ``5 + percent of the total payments estimated to be made based on the + prospective payment system under this subsection for the + period.''; and + (2) in paragraph (5)-- + (A) by striking ``Outliers.--The Secretary'' and + inserting the following: ``Outliers.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), the + Secretary''; + (B) in subparagraph (A), as added by subparagraph + (A), by striking ``5 percent'' and inserting ``2.5 + percent''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(B) Program specific outlier cap.--The estimated + total amount of additional payments or payment + adjustments made under subparagraph (A) with respect to + a home health agency for a year (beginning with 2011) + may not exceed an amount equal to 10 percent of the + estimated total amount of payments made under this + section (without regard to this paragraph) with respect + to the home health agency for the year.''. + + (c) Application of the Medicare Rural Home Health Add-on Policy.-- +Section 421 of the Medicare Prescription Drug, Improvement, and +Modernization Act of 2003 (Public Law 108-173; 117 Stat. 2283), as +amended by section 5201(b) of the Deficit Reduction Act of 2005 (Public +Law 109-171; 120 Stat. 46), <> is amended-- + (1) in the section heading, by striking ``one-year'' and + inserting ``temporary''; and + (2) in subsection (a)-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 429]] + + (A) by striking ``, and episodes'' and inserting ``, + episodes''; + (B) by inserting ``and episodes and visits ending on + or after April 1, 2010, and before January 1, 2016,'' + after ``January 1, 2007,''; and + (C) by inserting ``(or, in the case of episodes and + visits ending on or after April 1, 2010, and before + January 1, 2016, 3 percent)'' before the period at the + end. + + (d) <> Study and Report on the +Development of Home Health Payment Reforms in Order To Ensure Access to +Care and Quality Services.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall conduct + a study to evaluate the costs and quality of care among + efficient home health agencies relative to other such agencies + in providing ongoing access to care and in treating Medicare + beneficiaries with varying severity levels of illness. Such + study shall include an analysis of the following: + (A) Methods to revise the home health prospective + payment system under section 1895 of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395fff) to more accurately account for + the costs related to patient severity of illness or to + improving beneficiary access to care, including-- + (i) payment adjustments for services that may + be under- or over-valued; + (ii) necessary changes to reflect the resource + use relative to providing home health services to + low-income Medicare beneficiaries or Medicare + beneficiaries living in medically underserved + areas; + (iii) ways the outlier payment may be improved + to more accurately reflect the cost of treating + Medicare beneficiaries with high severity levels + of illness; + (iv) the role of quality of care incentives + and penalties in driving provider and patient + behavior; + (v) improvements in the application of a wage + index; and + (vi) other areas determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + (B) The validity and reliability of responses on the + OASIS instrument with particular emphasis on questions + that relate to higher payment under the home health + prospective payment system and higher outcome scores + under Home Care Compare. + (C) Additional research or payment revisions under + the home health prospective payment system that may be + necessary to set the payment rates for home health + services based on costs of high-quality and efficient + home health agencies or to improve Medicare beneficiary + access to care. + (D) A timetable for implementation of any + appropriate changes based on the analysis of the matters + described in subparagraphs (A), (B), and (C). + (E) Other areas determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + (2) Considerations.--In conducting the study under paragraph + (1), the Secretary shall consider whether certain factors + +[[Page 124 STAT. 430]] + + should be used to measure patient severity of illness and access + to care, such as-- + (A) population density and relative patient access + to care; + (B) variations in service costs for providing care + to individuals who are dually eligible under the + Medicare and Medicaid programs; + (C) the presence of severe or chronic diseases, as + evidenced by multiple, discontinuous home health + episodes; + (D) poverty status, as evidenced by the receipt of + Supplemental Security Income under title XVI of the + Social Security Act; + (E) the absence of caregivers; + (F) language barriers; + (G) atypical transportation costs; + (H) security costs; and + (I) other factors determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + (3) Report.--Not later than March 1, 2011, the Secretary + shall submit to Congress a report on the study conducted under + paragraph (1), together with recommendations for such + legislation and administrative action as the Secretary + determines appropriate. + (4) Consultations.--In conducting the study under paragraph + (1) and preparing the report under paragraph (3), the Secretary + shall consult with-- + (A) stakeholders representing home health agencies; + (B) groups representing Medicare beneficiaries; + (C) the Medicare Payment Advisory Commission; + (D) the Inspector General of the Department of + Health and Human Services; and + (E) the Comptroller General of the United States. + +SEC. 3132. HOSPICE REFORM. + + (a) Hospice Care Payment Reforms.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1814(i) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1395f(i)), as amended by section 3004(c), is + amended-- + (A) by redesignating paragraph (6) as paragraph (7); + and + (B) by inserting after paragraph (5) the following + new paragraph: + ``(6)(A) <> The + Secretary shall collect additional data and information as the + Secretary determines appropriate to revise payments for hospice + care under this subsection pursuant to subparagraph (D) and for + other purposes as determined appropriate by the + Secretary. <> The Secretary shall begin to + collect such data by not later than January 1, 2011. + ``(B) The additional data and information to be collected + under subparagraph (A) may include data and information on-- + ``(i) charges and payments; + ``(ii) the number of days of hospice care which are + attributable to individuals who are entitled to, or + enrolled for, benefits under part A; and + ``(iii) with respect to each type of service + included in hospice care-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 431]] + + ``(I) the number of days of hospice care + attributable to the type of service; + ``(II) the cost of the type of service; and + ``(III) the amount of payment for the type of + service; + ``(iv) charitable contributions and other revenue of + the hospice program; + ``(v) the number of hospice visits; + ``(vi) the type of practitioner providing the visit; + and + ``(vii) the length of the visit and other basic + information with respect to the visit. + ``(C) The Secretary may collect the additional data and + information under subparagraph (A) on cost reports, claims, or + other mechanisms as the Secretary determines to be appropriate. + ``(D)(i) <> Notwithstanding the + preceding paragraphs of this subsection, not earlier than + October 1, 2013, the Secretary shall, by regulation, implement + revisions to the methodology for determining the payment rates + for routine home care and other services included in hospice + care under this part, as the Secretary determines to be + appropriate. Such revisions may be based on an analysis of data + and information collected under subparagraph (A). Such revisions + may include adjustments to per diem payments that reflect + changes in resource intensity in providing such care and + services during the course of the entire episode of hospice + care. + ``(ii) Revisions in payment implemented pursuant to clause + (i) shall result in the same estimated amount of aggregate + expenditures under this title for hospice care furnished in the + fiscal year in which such revisions in payment are implemented + as would have been made under this title for such care in such + fiscal year if such revisions had not been implemented. + ``(E) The Secretary shall consult with hospice programs and + the Medicare Payment Advisory Commission regarding the + additional data and information to be collected under + subparagraph (A) and the payment revisions under subparagraph + (D).''. + (2) Conforming amendments.--Section 1814(i)(1)(C) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395f(i)(1)(C)) is amended-- + (A) in clause (ii)-- + (i) in the matter preceding subclause (I), by + inserting ``(before the first fiscal year in which + the payment revisions described in paragraph + (6)(D) are implemented)'' after ``subsequent + fiscal year''; and + (ii) in subclause (VII), by inserting + ``(before the first fiscal year in which the + payment revisions described in paragraph (6)(D) + are implemented), subject to clause (iv),'' after + ``subsequent fiscal year''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(iii) With respect to routine home care and + other services included in hospice care furnished + during fiscal years subsequent to the first fiscal + year in which payment revisions described in + paragraph (6)(D) are implemented, the payment + rates for such care and services shall be the + payment rates in effect under this clause during + the preceding fiscal year increased by, subject to + clause (iv), the market basket percentage increase + +[[Page 124 STAT. 432]] + + (as defined in section 1886(b)(3)(B)(iii)) for the + fiscal year.''. + + (b) Adoption of MedPAC Hospice Program Eligibility Recertification +Recommendations.--Section 1814(a)(7) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395f(a)(7)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (B), by striking ``and'' at the end; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(D) on and after January 1, 2011-- + ``(i) a hospice physician or nurse + practitioner has a face-to-face encounter with the + individual to determine continued eligibility of + the individual for hospice care prior to the + 180th-day recertification and each subsequent + recertification under subparagraph (A)(ii) and + attests that such visit took place (in accordance + with procedures established by the Secretary); and + ``(ii) in the case of hospice care provided an + individual for more than 180 days by a hospice + program for which the number of such cases for + such program comprises more than a percent + (specified by the Secretary) of the total number + of such cases for all programs under this title, + the hospice care provided to such individual is + medically reviewed (in accordance with procedures + established by the Secretary); and''. + +SEC. 3133. IMPROVEMENT TO MEDICARE DISPROPORTIONATE SHARE HOSPITAL (DSH) + PAYMENTS. + + Section 1886 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww), as +amended by sections 3001, 3008, and 3025, is amended-- + (1) in subsection (d)(5)(F)(i), by striking ``For'' and + inserting ``Subject to subsection (r), for''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(r) Adjustments to Medicare DSH Payments.-- + ``(1) Empirically justified dsh payments.--For fiscal year + 2015 and each subsequent fiscal year, instead of the amount of + disproportionate share hospital payment that would otherwise be + made under subsection (d)(5)(F) to a subsection (d) hospital for + the fiscal year, the Secretary shall pay to the subsection (d) + hospital 25 percent of such amount (which represents the + empirically justified amount for such payment, as determined by + the Medicare Payment Advisory Commission in its March 2007 + Report to the Congress). + ``(2) Additional payment.--In addition to the payment made + to a subsection (d) hospital under paragraph (1), for fiscal + year 2015 and each subsequent fiscal year, the Secretary shall + pay to such subsection (d) hospitals an additional amount equal + to the product of the following factors: + ``(A) Factor one.--A factor equal to the difference + between-- + ``(i) the aggregate amount of payments that + would be made to subsection (d) hospitals under + subsection (d)(5)(F) if this subsection did not + apply for such fiscal year (as estimated by the + Secretary); and + ``(ii) the aggregate amount of payments that + are made to subsection (d) hospitals under + paragraph (1) for such fiscal year (as so + estimated). + ``(B) Factor two.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 433]] + + ``(i) Fiscal years 2015, 2016, and 2017.--For + each of fiscal years 2015, 2016, and 2017, a + factor equal to 1 minus the percent change + (divided by 100) in the percent of individuals + under the age of 65 who are uninsured, as + determined by comparing the percent of such + individuals-- + ``(I) who are uninsured in 2012, the + last year before coverage expansion + under the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act (as calculated by + the Secretary based on the most recent + estimates available from the Director of + the Congressional Budget Office before a + vote in either House on such Act that, + if determined in the affirmative, would + clear such Act for enrollment); and + ``(II) who are uninsured in the most + recent period for which data is + available (as so calculated). + ``(ii) 2018 and subsequent years.--For fiscal + year 2018 and each subsequent fiscal year, a + factor equal to 1 minus the percent change + (divided by 100) in the percent of individuals who + are uninsured, as determined by comparing the + percent of individuals-- + ``(I) who are uninsured in 2012 (as + estimated by the Secretary, based on + data from the Census Bureau or other + sources the Secretary determines + appropriate, and certified by the Chief + Actuary of the Centers for Medicare & + Medicaid Services); and + ``(II) who are uninsured in the most + recent period for which data is + available (as so estimated and + certified). + ``(C) Factor three.--A factor equal to the percent, + for each subsection (d) hospital, that represents the + quotient of-- + ``(i) the amount of uncompensated care for + such hospital for a period selected by the + Secretary (as estimated by the Secretary, based on + appropriate data (including, in the case where the + Secretary determines that alternative data is + available which is a better proxy for the costs of + subsection (d) hospitals for treating the + uninsured, the use of such alternative data)); and + ``(ii) the aggregate amount of uncompensated + care for all subsection (d) hospitals that receive + a payment under this subsection for such period + (as so estimated, based on such data). + ``(3) Limitations on review.--There shall be no + administrative or judicial review under section 1869, section + 1878, or otherwise of the following: + ``(A) Any estimate of the Secretary for purposes of + determining the factors described in paragraph (2). + ``(B) Any period selected by the Secretary for such + purposes.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 434]] + +SEC. 3134. MISVALUED CODES UNDER THE PHYSICIAN FEE SCHEDULE. + + (a) In General.--Section 1848(c)(2) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395w-4(c)(2)) is amended by adding at the end the following new +subparagraphs: + ``(K) Potentially misvalued codes.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall-- + ``(I) periodically identify services + as being potentially misvalued using + criteria specified in clause (ii); and + ``(II) review and make appropriate + adjustments to the relative values + established under this paragraph for + services identified as being potentially + misvalued under subclause (I). + ``(ii) Identification of potentially misvalued + codes.--For purposes of identifying potentially + misvalued services pursuant to clause (i)(I), the + Secretary shall examine (as the Secretary + determines to be appropriate) codes (and families + of codes as appropriate) for which there has been + the fastest growth; codes (and families of codes + as appropriate) that have experienced substantial + changes in practice expenses; codes for new + technologies or services within an appropriate + period (such as 3 years) after the relative values + are initially established for such codes; multiple + codes that are frequently billed in conjunction + with furnishing a single service; codes with low + relative values, particularly those that are often + billed multiple times for a single treatment; + codes which have not been subject to review since + the implementation of the RBRVS (the so-called + `Harvard-valued codes'); and such other codes + determined to be appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(iii) Review and adjustments.-- + ``(I) The Secretary may use existing + processes to receive recommendations on + the review and appropriate adjustment of + potentially misvalued services described + in clause (i)(II). + ``(II) The Secretary may conduct + surveys, other data collection + activities, studies, or other analyses + as the Secretary determines to be + appropriate to facilitate the review and + appropriate adjustment described in + clause (i)(II). + ``(III) The Secretary may use + analytic contractors to identify and + analyze services identified under clause + (i)(I), conduct surveys or collect data, + and make recommendations on the review + and appropriate adjustment of services + described in clause (i)(II). + ``(IV) The Secretary may coordinate + the review and appropriate adjustment + described in clause (i)(II) with the + periodic review described in + subparagraph (B). + ``(V) As part of the review and + adjustment described in clause (i)(II), + including with respect to codes with low + relative values described in clause + (ii), the Secretary may make appropriate + coding revisions (including using + existing processes + +[[Page 124 STAT. 435]] + + for consideration of coding changes) + which may include consolidation of + individual services into bundled codes + for payment under the fee schedule under + subsection (b). + ``(VI) The provisions of + subparagraph (B)(ii)(II) shall apply to + adjustments to relative value units made + pursuant to this subparagraph in the + same manner as such provisions apply to + adjustments under subparagraph + (B)(ii)(II). + ``(L) Validating relative value units.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall + establish a process to validate relative value + units under the fee schedule under subsection (b). + ``(ii) Components and elements of work.--The + process described in clause (i) may include + validation of work elements (such as time, mental + effort and professional judgment, technical skill + and physical effort, and stress due to risk) + involved with furnishing a service and may include + validation of the pre-, post-, and intra-service + components of work. + ``(iii) Scope of codes.--The validation of + work relative value units shall include a sampling + of codes for services that is the same as the + codes listed under subparagraph (K)(ii). + ``(iv) Methods.--The Secretary may conduct the + validation under this subparagraph using methods + described in subclauses (I) through (V) of + subparagraph (K)(iii) as the Secretary determines + to be appropriate. + ``(v) Adjustments.--The Secretary shall make + appropriate adjustments to the work relative value + units under the fee schedule under subsection (b). + The provisions of subparagraph (B)(ii)(II) shall + apply to adjustments to relative value units made + pursuant to this subparagraph in the same manner + as such provisions apply to adjustments under + subparagraph (B)(ii)(II).''. + + (b) <> Implementation.-- + (1) Administration.-- + (A) Chapter 35 of title 44, United States Code and + the provisions of the Federal Advisory Committee Act (5 + U.S.C. App.) shall not apply to this section or the + amendment made by this section. + (B) Notwithstanding any other provision of law, the + Secretary may implement subparagraphs (K) and (L) of + 1848(c)(2) of the Social Security Act, as added by + subsection (a), by program instruction or otherwise. + (C) Section 4505(d) of the Balanced Budget Act of + 1997 <> is repealed. + (D) Except for provisions related to confidentiality + of information, the provisions of the Federal + Acquisition Regulation shall not apply to this section + or the amendment made by this section. + (2) Focusing cms resources on potentially overvalued + codes. <> --Section 1868(a) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ee(a)) is repealed. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 436]] + +SEC. 3135. MODIFICATION OF EQUIPMENT UTILIZATION FACTOR FOR ADVANCED + IMAGING SERVICES. + + (a) Adjustment in Practice Expense To Reflect Higher Presumed +Utilization.--Section 1848 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- +4) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (b)(4)-- + (A) in subparagraph (B), by striking ``subparagraph + (A)'' and inserting ``this paragraph''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(C) <> Adjustment in practice + expense to reflect higher presumed utilization.-- + Consistent with the methodology for computing the number + of practice expense relative value units under + subsection (c)(2)(C)(ii) with respect to advanced + diagnostic imaging services (as defined in section + 1834(e)(1)(B)) furnished on or after January 1, 2010, + the Secretary shall adjust such number of units so it + reflects-- + ``(i) in the case of services furnished on or + after January 1, 2010, and before January 1, 2013, + a 65 percent (rather than 50 percent) presumed + rate of utilization of imaging equipment; + ``(ii) in the case of services furnished on or + after January 1, 2013, and before January 1, 2014, + a 70 percent (rather than 50 percent) presumed + rate of utilization of imaging equipment; and + ``(iii) in the case of services furnished on + or after January 1, 2014, a 75 percent (rather + than 50 percent) presumed rate of utilization of + imaging equipment.''; and + (2) in subsection (c)(2)(B)(v), by adding at the end the + following new subclauses: + ``(III) Change in presumed + utilization level of certain advanced + diagnostic imaging services for 2010 + through 2012.--Effective for fee + schedules established beginning with + 2010 and ending with 2012, reduced + expenditures attributable to the + presumed rate of utilization of imaging + equipment of 65 percent under subsection + (b)(4)(C)(i) instead of a presumed rate + of utilization of such equipment of 50 + percent. + ``(IV) Change in presumed + utilization level of certain advanced + diagnostic imaging services for 2013.-- + Effective for fee schedules established + for 2013, reduced expenditures + attributable to the presumed rate of + utilization of imaging equipment of 70 + percent under subsection (b)(4)(C)(ii) + instead of a presumed rate of + utilization of such equipment of 50 + percent. + ``(V) Change in presumed utilization + level of certain advanced diagnostic + imaging services for 2014 and subsequent + years.--Effective for fee schedules + established beginning with 2014, reduced + expenditures attributable to the + presumed + +[[Page 124 STAT. 437]] + + rate of utilization of imaging equipment + of 75 percent under subsection + (b)(4)(C)(iii) instead of a presumed + rate of utilization of such equipment of + 50 percent.''. + + (b) Adjustment in Technical Component ``discount'' on Single-session +Imaging to Consecutive Body Parts.--Section 1848 of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4), as amended by subsection (a), is amended-- + (1) in subsection (b)(4), by adding at the end the following + new subparagraph: + ``(D) Adjustment in technical component discount on + single-session imaging involving consecutive body + parts.--For services furnished on or after July 1, 2010, + the Secretary shall increase the reduction in payments + attributable to the multiple procedure payment reduction + applicable to the technical component for imaging under + the final rule published by the Secretary in the Federal + Register on November 21, 2005 (part 405 of title 42, + Code of Federal Regulations) from 25 percent to 50 + percent.''; and + (2) in subsection (c)(2)(B)(v), by adding at the end the + following new subclause: + ``(VI) Additional reduced payment + for multiple imaging procedures.-- + Effective for fee schedules established + beginning with 2010 (but not applied for + services furnished prior to July 1, + 2010), reduced expenditures attributable + to the increase in the multiple + procedure payment reduction from 25 to + 50 percent (as described in subsection + (b)(4)(D)).''. + + (c) Analysis by the Chief Actuary of the Centers for Medicare & +Medicaid Services. <> --Not later than January 1, 2013, the Chief Actuary of the +Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services shall make publicly available +an analysis of whether, for the period of 2010 through 2019, the +cumulative expenditure reductions under title XVIII of the Social +Security Act that are attributable to the adjustments under the +amendments made by this section are projected to exceed $3,000,000,000. + +SEC. 3136. REVISION OF PAYMENT FOR POWER-DRIVEN WHEELCHAIRS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1834(a)(7)(A) of the Social Security Act +(42 U.S.C. 1395m(a)(7)(A)) is amended-- + (1) in clause (i)-- + (A) in subclause (II), by inserting ``subclause + (III) and'' after ``Subject to''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + subclause: + ``(III) Special rule for power- + driven wheelchairs.--For purposes of + payment for power-driven wheelchairs, + subclause (II) shall be applied by + substituting `15 percent' and `6 + percent' for `10 percent' and `7.5 + percent', respectively.''; and + (2) in clause (iii)-- + (A) in the heading, by inserting ``complex, + rehabilitative'' before ``power-driven''; and + (B) by inserting ``complex, rehabilitative'' before + ``power-driven''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 438]] + + (b) Technical Amendment.--Section 1834(a)(7)(C)(ii)(II) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(a)(7)(C)(ii)(II)) is amended by +striking ``(A)(ii) or''. + (c) <> Effective Date.-- + (1) <> In general.--Subject to + paragraph (2), the amendments made by subsection (a) shall take + effect on January 1, 2011, and shall apply to power-driven + wheelchairs furnished on or after such date. + (2) Application to competitive bidding.--The amendments made + by subsection (a) shall not apply to payment made for items and + services furnished pursuant to contracts entered into under + section 1847 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-3) + prior to January 1, 2011, pursuant to the implementation of + subsection (a)(1)(B)(i)(I) of such section 1847. + +SEC. 3137. HOSPITAL WAGE INDEX IMPROVEMENT. + + (a) Extension of Section 508 Hospital Reclassifications.-- + (1) In general.--Subsection (a) of section 106 of division B + of the Tax Relief and Health Care Act of 2006 (42 U.S.C. 1395 + note), as amended by section 117 of the Medicare, Medicaid, and + SCHIP Extension Act of 2007 (Public Law 110-173) and section 124 + of the Medicare Improvements for Patients and Providers Act of + 2008 (Public Law 110-275), <> is + amended by striking ``September 30, 2009'' and inserting + ``September 30, 2010''. + (2) <> Use of particular wage + index in fiscal year 2010.--For purposes of implementation of + the amendment made by this subsection during fiscal year 2010, + the Secretary shall use the hospital wage index that was + promulgated by the Secretary in the Federal Register on August + 27, 2009 (74 Fed. Reg. 43754), and any subsequent corrections. + + (b) <> Plan for Reforming the Medicare +Hospital Wage Index System.-- + (1) In general. <> --Not later + than December 31, 2011, the Secretary of Health and Human + Services (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') + shall submit to Congress a report that includes a plan to reform + the hospital wage index system under section 1886 of the Social + Security Act. + (2) Details.--In developing the plan under paragraph (1), + the Secretary shall take into account the goals for reforming + such system set forth in the Medicare Payment Advisory + Commission June 2007 report entitled ``Report to Congress: + Promoting Greater Efficiency in Medicare'', including + establishing a new hospital compensation index system that-- + (A) uses Bureau of Labor Statistics data, or other + data or methodologies, to calculate relative wages for + each geographic area involved; + (B) minimizes wage index adjustments between and + within metropolitan statistical areas and statewide + rural areas; + (C) includes methods to minimize the volatility of + wage index adjustments that result from implementation + of policy, while maintaining budget neutrality in + applying such adjustments; + (D) takes into account the effect that + implementation of the system would have on health care + providers and on each region of the country; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 439]] + + (E) addresses issues related to occupational mix, + such as staffing practices and ratios, and any evidence + on the effect on quality of care or patient safety as a + result of the implementation of the system; and + (F) provides for a transition. + (3) Consultation.--In developing the plan under paragraph + (1), the Secretary shall consult with relevant affected parties. + + (c) Use of Particular Criteria for Determining +Reclassifications. <> --Notwithstanding any other +provision of law, in making decisions on applications for +reclassification of a subsection (d) hospital (as defined in paragraph +(1)(B) of section 1886(d) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395ww(d)) for the purposes described in paragraph (10)(D)(v) of such +section for fiscal year 2011 and each subsequent fiscal year (until the +first fiscal year beginning on or after the date that is 1 year after +the Secretary of Health and Human Services submits the report to +Congress under subsection (b)), the Geographic Classification Review +Board established under paragraph (10) of such section shall use the +average hourly wage comparison criteria used in making such decisions as +of September 30, 2008. The preceding sentence shall be effected in a +budget neutral manner. + +SEC. 3138. TREATMENT OF CERTAIN CANCER HOSPITALS. + + Section 1833(t) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(t)) is +amended by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(18) Authorization of adjustment for cancer hospitals.-- + ``(A) Study.--The Secretary shall conduct a study to + determine if, under the system under this subsection, + costs incurred by hospitals described in section + 1886(d)(1)(B)(v) with respect to ambulatory payment + classification groups exceed those costs incurred by + other hospitals furnishing services under this + subsection (as determined appropriate by the Secretary). + In conducting the study under this subparagraph, the + Secretary shall take into consideration the cost of + drugs and biologicals incurred by such hospitals. + ``(B) Authorization of adjustment.--Insofar as the + Secretary determines under subparagraph (A) that costs + incurred by hospitals described in section + 1886(d)(1)(B)(v) exceed those costs incurred by other + hospitals furnishing services under this subsection, the + Secretary shall provide for an appropriate adjustment + under paragraph (2)(E) to reflect those higher costs + effective for services furnished on or after January 1, + 2011.''. + +SEC. 3139. PAYMENT FOR BIOSIMILAR BIOLOGICAL PRODUCTS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1847A of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395w-3a) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (b)-- + (A) in paragraph (1)-- + (i) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``or'' at + the end; + (ii) in subparagraph (B), by striking the + period at the end and inserting ``; or''; and + (iii) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 440]] + + ``(C) in the case of a biosimilar biological product + (as defined in subsection (c)(6)(H)), the amount + determined under paragraph (8).''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(8) Biosimilar biological product.--The amount specified + in this paragraph for a biosimilar biological product described + in paragraph (1)(C) is the sum of-- + ``(A) the average sales price as determined using + the methodology described under paragraph (6) applied to + a biosimilar biological product for all National Drug + Codes assigned to such product in the same manner as + such paragraph is applied to drugs described in such + paragraph; and + ``(B) 6 percent of the amount determined under + paragraph (4) for the reference biological product (as + defined in subsection (c)(6)(I)).''; and + (2) in subsection (c)(6), by adding at the end the following + new subparagraph: + ``(H) Biosimilar biological product.--The term + `biosimilar biological product' means a biological + product approved under an abbreviated application for a + license of a biological product that relies in part on + data or information in an application for another + biological product licensed under section 351 of the + Public Health Service Act. + ``(I) Reference biological product.--The term + `reference biological product' means the biological + product licensed under such section 351 that is referred + to in the application described in subparagraph (H) of + the biosimilar biological product.''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.-- +The amendments made by subsection (a) shall apply to payments for +biosimilar biological products beginning with the first day of the +second calendar quarter after enactment of legislation providing for a +biosimilar pathway (as determined by the Secretary). + +SEC. 3140. <> MEDICARE HOSPICE CONCURRENT CARE + DEMONSTRATION PROGRAM. + + (a) Establishment.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall + establish a Medicare Hospice Concurrent Care demonstration + program at participating hospice programs under which Medicare + beneficiaries are furnished, during the same period, hospice + care and any other items or services covered under title XVIII + of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395 et seq.) from funds + otherwise paid under such title to such hospice programs. + (2) Duration.--The demonstration program under this section + shall be conducted for a 3-year period. + (3) Sites.--The Secretary shall select not more than 15 + hospice programs at which the demonstration program under this + section shall be conducted. Such hospice programs shall be + located in urban and rural areas. + + (b) Independent Evaluation and Reports.-- + (1) Independent evaluation.--The Secretary shall provide for + the conduct of an independent evaluation of the demonstration + program under this section. Such independent evaluation shall + determine whether the demonstration program + +[[Page 124 STAT. 441]] + + has improved patient care, quality of life, and cost- + effectiveness for Medicare beneficiaries participating in the + demonstration program. + (2) Reports.--The Secretary shall submit to Congress a + report containing the results of the evaluation conducted under + paragraph (1), together with such recommendations as the + Secretary determines appropriate. + + (c) Budget Neutrality.--With respect to the 3-year period of the +demonstration program under this section, the Secretary shall ensure +that the aggregate expenditures under title XVIII for such period shall +not exceed the aggregate expenditures that would have been expended +under such title if the demonstration program under this section had not +been implemented. + +SEC. 3141. <> APPLICATION OF BUDGET + NEUTRALITY ON A NATIONAL BASIS IN THE CALCULATION OF THE + MEDICARE HOSPITAL WAGE INDEX FLOOR. + + In the case of discharges occurring on or after October 1, 2010, for +purposes of applying section 4410 of the Balanced Budget Act of 1997 (42 +U.S.C. 1395ww note) and paragraph (h)(4) of section 412.64 of title 42, +Code of Federal Regulations, the Secretary of Health and Human Services +shall administer subsection (b) of such section 4410 and paragraph (e) +of such section 412.64 in the same manner as the Secretary administered +such subsection (b) and paragraph (e) for discharges occurring during +fiscal year 2008 (through a uniform, national adjustment to the area +wage index). + +SEC. 3142. HHS STUDY ON URBAN MEDICARE-DEPENDENT HOSPITALS. + + (a) Study.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall conduct + a study on the need for an additional payment for urban + Medicare-dependent hospitals for inpatient hospital services + under section 1886 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395ww). Such study shall include an analysis of-- + (A) the Medicare inpatient margins of urban + Medicare-dependent hospitals, as compared to other + hospitals which receive 1 or more additional payments or + adjustments under such section (including those payments + or adjustments described in paragraph (2)(A)); and + (B) whether payments to medicare-dependent, small + rural hospitals under subsection (d)(5)(G) of such + section should be applied to urban Medicare-dependent + hospitals. + (2) Urban medicare-dependent hospital defined.--For purposes + of this section, the term ``urban Medicare-dependent hospital'' + means a subsection (d) hospital (as defined in subsection + (d)(1)(B) of such section) that-- + (A) does not receive any additional payment or + adjustment under such section, such as payments for + indirect medical education costs under subsection + (d)(5)(B) of such section, disproportionate share + payments under subsection (d)(5)(A) of such section, + payments to a rural referral center under subsection + (d)(5)(C) of such section, payments to a critical access + hospital under section 1814(l) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395f(l)), payments to a sole community hospital under + subsection (d)(5)(D) of such section 1886, or payments + to a medicare-dependent, small rural hospital under + subsection (d)(5)(G) of such section 1886; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 442]] + + (B) for which more than 60 percent of its inpatient + days or discharges during 2 of the 3 most recently + audited cost reporting periods for which the Secretary + has a settled cost report were attributable to + inpatients entitled to benefits under part A of title + XVIII of such Act. + + (b) Report.--Not later than 9 months after the date of enactment of +this Act, the Secretary shall submit to Congress a report containing the +results of the study conducted under subsection (a), together with +recommendations for such legislation and administrative action as the +Secretary determines appropriate. + +SEC. 3143. <> PROTECTING HOME HEALTH BENEFITS. + + Nothing in the provisions of, or amendments made by, this Act shall +result in the reduction of guaranteed home health benefits under title +XVIII of the Social Security Act. + + Subtitle C--Provisions Relating to Part C + +SEC. 3201. MEDICARE ADVANTAGE PAYMENT. + + (a) MA Benchmark Based on Plan's Competitive Bids.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1853(j) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(j)) is amended-- + (A) by striking ``Amounts.--For purposes'' and + inserting ``Amounts.-- + ``(1) In general.--For purposes''; + (B) by redesignating paragraphs (1) and (2) as + subparagraphs (A) and (B), respectively, and indenting + the subparagraphs appropriately; + (C) in subparagraph (A), as redesignated by + subparagraph (B)-- + (i) by redesignating subparagraphs (A) and (B) + as clauses (i) and (ii), respectively, and + indenting the clauses appropriately; and + (ii) in clause (i), as redesignated by clause + (i), by striking ``an amount equal to'' and all + that follows through the end and inserting ``an + amount equal to-- + ``(I) for years before 2007, \1/12\ + of the annual MA capitation rate under + section 1853(c)(1) for the area for the + year, adjusted as appropriate for the + purpose of risk adjustment; + ``(II) for 2007 through 2011, \1/12\ + of the applicable amount determined + under subsection (k)(1) for the area for + the year; + ``(III) for 2012, the sum of-- + ``(aa) \2/3\ of the quotient + of-- + ``(AA) the applicable + amount determined under + subsection (k)(1) for the + area for the year; and + ``(BB) 12; and + ``(bb) \1/3\ of the MA + competitive benchmark amount + (determined under paragraph (2)) + for the area for the month; + ``(IV) for 2013, the sum of-- + ``(aa) \1/3\ of the quotient + of-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 443]] + + ``(AA) the applicable + amount determined under + subsection (k)(1) for the + area for the year; and + ``(BB) 12; and + ``(bb) \2/3\ of the MA + competitive benchmark amount (as + so determined) for the area for + the month; + ``(V) for 2014, the MA competitive + benchmark amount for the area for a + month in 2013 (as so determined), + increased by the national per capita MA + growth percentage, described in + subsection (c)(6) for 2014, but not + taking into account any adjustment under + subparagraph (C) of such subsection for + a year before 2004; and + ``(VI) for 2015 and each subsequent + year, the MA competitive benchmark + amount (as so determined) for the area + for the month; or''; + (iii) in clause (ii), as redesignated by + clause (i), by striking ``subparagraph (A)'' and + inserting ``clause (i)''; + (D) by adding at the end the following new + paragraphs: + ``(2) Computation of ma competitive benchmark amount.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B) and + paragraph (3), for months in each year (beginning with + 2012) for each MA payment area the Secretary shall + compute an MA competitive benchmark amount equal to the + weighted average of the unadjusted MA statutory non-drug + monthly bid amount (as defined in section 1854(b)(2)(E)) + for each MA plan in the area, with the weight for each + plan being equal to the average number of beneficiaries + enrolled under such plan in the reference month (as + defined in section 1858(f)(4), except that, in applying + such definition for purposes of this paragraph, `to + compute the MA competitive benchmark amount under + section 1853(j)(2)' shall be substituted for `to compute + the percentage specified in subparagraph (A) and other + relevant percentages under this part'). + ``(B) Weighting rules.-- + ``(i) Single plan rule.--In the case of an MA + payment area in which only a single MA plan is + being offered, the weight under subparagraph (A) + shall be equal to 1. + ``(ii) Use of simple average among multiple + plans if no plans offered in previous year.--In + the case of an MA payment area in which no MA plan + was offered in the previous year and more than 1 + MA plan is offered in the current year, the + Secretary shall use a simple average of the + unadjusted MA statutory non-drug monthly bid + amount (as so defined) for purposes of computing + the MA competitive benchmark amount under + subparagraph (A). + ``(3) Cap on ma competitive benchmark amount.--In no case + shall the MA competitive benchmark amount for an area for a + month in a year be greater than the applicable amount + +[[Page 124 STAT. 444]] + + that would (but for the application of this subsection) be + determined under subsection (k)(1) for the area for the month in + the year.''; and + (E) in subsection (k)(2)(B)(ii)(III), by striking + ``(j)(1)(A)'' and inserting ``(j)(1)(A)(i)''. + (2) Conforming amendments.-- + (A) Section 1853(k)(2) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(k)(2)) is amended-- + (i) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``through + 2010'' and inserting ``and subsequent years''; and + (ii) in subparagraph (C)-- + (I) in clause (iii), by striking + ``and'' at the end; + (II) in clause (iv), by striking the + period at the end and inserting ``; + and''; and + (III) by adding at the end the + following new clause: + ``(v) for 2011 and subsequent years, 0.00.''. + (B) Section 1854(b) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395w-24(b)) is amended-- + (i) in paragraph (3)(B)(i), by striking + ``1853(j)(1)'' and inserting ``1853(j)(1)(A)''; + and + (ii) in paragraph (4)(B)(i), by striking + ``1853(j)(2)'' and inserting ``1853(j)(1)(B)''. + (C) Section 1858(f) of the Social Security + Act <> (42 U.S.C. 1395w-27(f)) + is amended-- + (i) in paragraph (1), by striking + ``1853(j)(2)'' and inserting ``1853(j)(1)(B)''; + and + (ii) in paragraph (3)(A), by striking + ``1853(j)(1)(A)'' and inserting + ``1853(j)(1)(A)(i)''. + (D) Section 1860C-1(d)(1)(A) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-29(d)(1)(A)) is amended by striking + ``1853(j)(1)(A)'' and inserting ``1853(j)(1)(A)(i)''. + + (b) Reduction of National Per Capita Growth Percentage for 2011.-- +Section 1853(c)(6) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(c)(6)) +is amended-- + (1) in clause (v), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) in clause (vi)-- + (A) by striking ``for a year after 2002'' and + inserting ``for 2003 through 2010''; and + (B) by striking the period at the end and inserting + a comma; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new clauses: + ``(vii) for 2011, 3 percentage points; and + ``(viii) for a year after 2011, 0 percentage + points.''. + + (c) Enhancement of Beneficiary Rebates.--Section 1854(b)(1)(C)(i) of +the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-24(b)(1)(C)(i)) is amended by +inserting ``(or 100 percent in the case of plan years beginning on or +after January 1, 2014)'' after ``75 percent''. + (d) Bidding Rules.-- + (1) Requirements for information + submitted. <> --Section 1854(a)(6)(A) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-24(a)(6)(A)) is + amended, in the flush matter following clause (v), by adding at + the end the following sentence: ``Information to be submitted + under this paragraph shall be certified by a qualified member of + the American Academy of Actuaries + +[[Page 124 STAT. 445]] + + and shall meet actuarial guidelines and rules established by the + Secretary under subparagraph (B)(v).''. + (2) Establishment of actuarial guidelines.--Section + 1854(a)(6)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- + 24(a)(6)(B)) is amended-- + (A) in clause (i), by striking ``(iii) and (iv)'' + and inserting ``(iii), (iv), and (v)''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(v) Establishment of actuarial guidelines.-- + ``(I) In general.--In order to + establish fair MA competitive benchmarks + under section 1853(j)(1)(A)(i), the + Secretary, acting through the Chief + Actuary of the Centers for Medicare & + Medicaid Services (in this clause + referred to as the `Chief Actuary'), + shall establish-- + ``(aa) actuarial guidelines + for the submission of bid + information under this + paragraph; and + ``(bb) bidding rules that + are appropriate to ensure + accurate bids and fair + competition among MA plans. + ``(II) Denial of bid amounts.--The + Secretary shall deny monthly bid amounts + submitted under subparagraph (A) that do + not meet the actuarial guidelines and + rules established under subclause (I). + ``(III) Refusal to accept certain + bids due to misrepresentations and + failures to adequately meet + requirements. <> --In the case where the + Secretary determines that information + submitted by an MA organization under + subparagraph (A) contains consistent + misrepresentations and failures to + adequately meet requirements of the + organization, the Secretary may refuse + to accept any additional such bid + amounts from the organization for the + plan year and the Chief Actuary shall, + if the Chief Actuary determines that the + actuaries of the organization were + complicit in those misrepresentations + and failures, report those actuaries to + the Actuarial Board for Counseling and + Discipline.''. + (3) <> Effective date.--The + amendments made by this subsection shall apply to bid amounts + submitted on or after January 1, 2012. + + (e) MA Local Plan Service Areas.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1853(d) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(d)) is amended-- + (A) in the subsection heading, by striking ``MA + Region'' and inserting ``MA Region; MA Local Plan + Service Area''; + (B) in paragraph (1), by striking subparagraph (A) + and inserting the following: + ``(A) with respect to an MA local plan-- + ``(i) for years before 2012, an MA local area + (as defined in paragraph (2)); and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 446]] + + ``(ii) for 2012 and succeeding years, a + service area that is an entire urban or rural + area, as applicable (as described in paragraph + (5)); and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(5) MA local plan service area.--For 2012 and succeeding + years, the service area for an MA local plan shall be an entire + urban or rural area in each State as follows: + ``(A) Urban areas.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii) and + subparagraphs (C) and (D), the service area for an + MA local plan in an urban area shall be the Core + Based Statistical Area (in this paragraph referred + to as a `CBSA') or, if applicable, a conceptually + similar alternative classification, as defined by + the Director of the Office of Management and + Budget. + ``(ii) CBSA covering more than one state.--In + the case of a CBSA (or alternative classification) + that covers more than one State, the Secretary + shall divide the CBSA (or alternative + classification) into separate service areas with + respect to each State covered by the CBSA (or + alternative classification). + ``(B) Rural areas.--Subject to subparagraphs (C) and + (D), the service area for an MA local plan in a rural + area shall be a county that does not qualify for + inclusion in a CBSA (or alternative classification), as + defined by the Director of the Office of Management and + Budget. + ``(C) Refinements to service areas.--For 2015 and + succeeding years, in order to reflect actual patterns of + health care service utilization, the Secretary may + adjust the boundaries of service areas for MA local + plans in urban areas and rural areas under subparagraphs + (A) and (B), respectively, but may only do so based on + recent analyses of actual patterns of care. + ``(D) Additional authority to make limited + exceptions to service area requirements for ma local + plans.--The Secretary may, in addition to any + adjustments under subparagraph (C), make limited + exceptions to service area requirements otherwise + applicable under this part for MA local plans that have + in effect (as of the date of enactment of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act)-- + ``(i) agreements with another MA organization + or MA plan that preclude the offering of benefits + throughout an entire service area; or + ``(ii) limitations in their structural + capacity to support adequate networks throughout + an entire service area as a result of the delivery + system model of the MA local plan.''. + (2) Conforming amendments.-- + (A) In general.-- + (i) Section 1851(b)(1) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-21(b)(1)) is amended by + striking subparagraph (C). + (ii) Section 1853(b)(1)(B)(i) of such Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395w-23(b)(1)(B)(i))-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 447]] + + (I) in the matter preceding + subclause (I), by striking ``MA payment + area'' and inserting ``MA local area (as + defined in subsection (d)(2))''; and + (II) in subclause (I), by striking + ``MA payment area'' and inserting ``MA + local area (as so defined)''. + (iii) Section 1853(b)(4) of such Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395w-23(b)(4)) is amended by striking + ``Medicare Advantage payment area'' and inserting + ``MA local area (as so defined)''. + (iv) Section 1853(c)(1) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395w-23(c)(1)) is amended-- + (I) in the matter preceding + subparagraph (A), by striking ``a + Medicare Advantage payment area that + is''; and + (II) in subparagraph (D)(i), by + striking ``MA payment area'' and + inserting ``MA local area (as defined in + subsection (d)(2))''. + (v) Section 1854 of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- + 24) is amended by striking subsection (h). + (B) <> Effective + date.--The amendments made by this paragraph shall take + effect on January 1, 2012. + + (f) Performance Bonuses.-- + (1) MA plans.-- + (A) In general.--Section 1853 of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-23) is amended by adding at the end + the following new subsection: + + ``(n) Performance Bonuses.-- + ``(1) Care coordination and management performance bonus.-- + ``(A) In general. <> --For years beginning with 2014, + subject to subparagraph (B), in the case of an MA plan + that conducts 1 or more programs described in + subparagraph (C) with respect to the year, the Secretary + shall, in addition to any other payment provided under + this part, make monthly payments, with respect to + coverage of an individual under this part, to the MA + plan in an amount equal to the product of-- + ``(i) 0.5 percent of the national monthly per + capita cost for expenditures for individuals + enrolled under the original medicare fee-for- + service program for the year; and + ``(ii) the total number of programs described + in clauses (i) through (ix) of subparagraph (C) + that the Secretary determines the plan is + conducting for the year under such subparagraph. + ``(B) Limitation.--In no case may the total amount + of payment with respect to a year under subparagraph (A) + be greater than 2 percent of the national monthly per + capita cost for expenditures for individuals enrolled + under the original medicare fee-for-service program for + the year, as determined prior to the application of risk + adjustment under paragraph (4). + ``(C) Programs described.--The following programs + are described in this paragraph: + ``(i) Care management programs that-- + ``(I) target individuals with 1 or + more chronic conditions; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 448]] + + ``(II) identify gaps in care; and + ``(III) facilitate improved care by + using additional resources like nurses, + nurse practitioners, and physician + assistants. + ``(ii) Programs that focus on patient + education and self-management of health + conditions, including interventions that-- + ``(I) help manage chronic + conditions; + ``(II) reduce declines in health + status; and + ``(III) foster patient and provider + collaboration. + ``(iii) Transitional care interventions that + focus on care provided around a hospital inpatient + episode, including programs that target post- + discharge patient care in order to reduce + unnecessary health complications and readmissions. + ``(iv) Patient safety programs, including + provisions for hospital-based patient safety + programs in contracts that the Medicare Advantage + organization offering the MA plan has with + hospitals. + ``(v) Financial policies that promote + systematic coordination of care by primary care + physicians across the full spectrum of specialties + and sites of care, such as medical homes, + capitation arrangements, or pay-for-performance + programs. + ``(vi) Programs that address, identify, and + ameliorate health care disparities among principal + at-risk subpopulations. + ``(vii) Medication therapy management programs + that are more extensive than is required under + section 1860D-4(c) (as determined by the + Secretary). + ``(viii) Health information technology + programs, including clinical decision support and + other tools to facilitate data collection and + ensure patient-centered, appropriate care. + ``(ix) Such other care management and + coordination programs as the Secretary determines + appropriate. + ``(D) Conduct of program in urban and rural areas.-- + An MA plan may conduct a program described in + subparagraph (C) in a manner appropriate for an urban or + rural area, as applicable. + ``(E) Reporting of data.--Each Medicare Advantage + organization shall provide to the Secretary the + information needed to determine whether they are + eligible for a care coordination and management + performance bonus at a time and in a manner specified by + the Secretary. + ``(F) Periodic auditing. <> --The + Secretary shall provide for the annual auditing of + programs described in subparagraph (C) for which an MA + plan receives a care coordination and management + performance bonus under this paragraph. The Comptroller + General shall monitor auditing activities conducted + under this subparagraph. + ``(2) Quality performance bonuses.-- + ``(A) Quality bonus. <> --For years beginning with 2014, the + Secretary shall, in addition to any other payment + provided under this part, make monthly payments, with + respect to coverage of an individual under this part, to + an MA plan that achieves at least a 3 star rating (or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 449]] + + comparable rating) on a rating system described in + subparagraph (C) in an amount equal to-- + ``(i) in the case of a plan that achieves a 3 + star rating (or comparable rating) on such system + 2 percent of the national monthly per capita cost + for expenditures for individuals enrolled under + the original medicare fee-for-service program for + the year; and + ``(ii) in the case of a plan that achieves a 4 + or 5 star rating (or comparable rating on such + system, 4 percent of such national monthly per + capita cost for the year. + ``(B) Improved quality bonus. <> --For years beginning with 2014, in + the case of an MA plan that does not receive a quality + bonus under subparagraph (A) and is an improved quality + MA plan with respect to the year (as identified by the + Secretary), the Secretary shall, in addition to any + other payment provided under this part, make monthly + payments, with respect to coverage of an individual + under this part, to the MA plan in an amount equal to 1 + percent of such national monthly per capita cost for the + year. + ``(C) Use of rating system.--For purposes of + subparagraph (A), a rating system described in this + paragraph is-- + ``(i) a rating system that uses up to 5 stars + to rate clinical quality and enrollee satisfaction + and performance at the Medicare Advantage contract + or MA plan level; or + ``(ii) such other system established by the + Secretary that provides for the determination of a + comparable quality performance rating to the + rating system described in clause (i). + ``(D) Data used in determining score.-- + ``(i) In general.--The rating of an MA plan + under the rating system described in subparagraph + (C) with respect to a year shall be based on based + on the most recent data available. + ``(ii) Plans that fail to report data.--An MA + plan which does not report data that enables the + Secretary to rate the plan for purposes of + subparagraph (A) or identify the plan for purposes + of subparagraph (B) shall be counted, for purposes + of such rating or identification, as having the + lowest plan performance rating and the lowest + percentage improvement, respectively. + ``(3) Quality bonus for new and low enrollment ma plans.-- + ``(A) New ma plans. <> --For years beginning with 2014, in + the case of an MA plan that first submits a bid under + section 1854(a)(1)(A) for 2012 or a subsequent year, + only receives enrollments made during the coverage + election periods described in section 1851(e), and is + not able to receive a bonus under subparagraph (A) or + (B) of paragraph (2) for the year, the Secretary shall, + in addition to any other payment provided under this + part, make monthly payments, with respect to coverage of + an individual under this part, to the MA plan in an + amount equal to 2 percent of national monthly per capita + cost for expenditures for + +[[Page 124 STAT. 450]] + + individuals enrolled under the original medicare fee- + for-service program for the year. In its fourth year of + operation, the MA plan shall be paid in the same manner + as other MA plans with comparable enrollment. + ``(B) Low enrollment plans. <> --For years beginning with 2014, + in the case of an MA plan that has low enrollment (as + defined by the Secretary) and would not otherwise be + able to receive a bonus under subparagraph (A) or (B) of + paragraph (2) or subparagraph (A) of this paragraph for + the year (referred to in this subparagraph as a `low + enrollment plan'), the Secretary shall use a regional or + local mean of the rating of all MA plans in the region + or local area, as determined appropriate by the + Secretary, on measures used to determine whether MA + plans are eligible for a quality or an improved quality + bonus, as applicable, to determine whether the low + enrollment plan is eligible for a bonus under such a + subparagraph. + ``(4) Risk adjustment.--The Secretary shall risk adjust a + performance bonus under this subsection in the same manner as + the Secretary risk adjusts beneficiary rebates described in + section 1854(b)(1)(C). + ``(5) Notification.--The Secretary, in the annual + announcement required under subsection (b)(1)(B) for 2014 and + each succeeding year, shall notify the Medicare Advantage + organization of any performance bonus (including a care + coordination and management performance bonus under paragraph + (1), a quality performance bonus under paragraph (2), and a + quality bonus for new and low enrollment plans under paragraph + (3)) that the organization will receive under this subsection + with respect to the year. <> The Secretary + shall provide for the publication of the information described + in the previous sentence on the Internet website of the Centers + for Medicare & Medicaid Services.'' + (B) Conforming amendment.--Section 1853(a)(1)(B) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(a)(1)(B)) is + amended-- + (i) in clause (i), by inserting ``and any + performance bonus under subsection (n)'' before + the period at the end; and + (ii) in clause (ii), by striking ``(G)'' and + inserting ``(G), plus the amount (if any) of any + performance bonus under subsection (n)''. + (2) Application of performance bonuses to ma regional + plans.--Section 1858 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395w-27a) is amended-- + (A) in subsection (f)(1), by striking ``subsection + (e)'' and inserting ``subsections (e) and (i)''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + subsection: + + ``(i) Application of Performance Bonuses to MA Regional +Plans. <> --For years beginning with 2014, the +Secretary shall apply the performance bonuses under section 1853(n) +(relating to bonuses for care coordination and management, quality +performance, and new and low enrollment MA plans) to MA regional plans +in a similar manner as such performance bonuses apply to MA plans under +such subsection.''. + + (g) Grandfathering Supplemental Benefits for Current Enrollees After +Implementation of Competitive Bidding.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 451]] + +Section 1853 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-23), as amended +by subsection (f), is amended by adding at the end the following new +subsection: + ``(o) Grandfathering Supplemental Benefits for Current Enrolles +After Implementation of Competitive Bidding.-- + ``(1) Identification of areas.--The Secretary shall identify + MA local areas in which, with respect to 2009, average bids + submitted by an MA organization under section 1854(a) for MA + local plans in the area are not greater than 75 percent of the + adjusted average per capita cost for the year involved, + determined under section 1876(a)(4), for the area for + individuals who are not enrolled in an MA plan under this part + for the year, but adjusted to exclude costs attributable to + payments under section 1848(o), 1886(n), and 1886(h). + ``(2) Election to provide rebates to grandfathered + enrollees.-- + ``(A) In general. <> --For + years beginning with 2012, each Medicare Advantage + organization offering an MA local plan in an area + identified by the Secretary under paragraph (1) may + elect to provide rebates to grandfathered enrollees + under section 1854(b)(1)(C). In the case where an MA + organization makes such an election, the monthly per + capita dollar amount of such rebates shall not exceed + the applicable amount for the year (as defined in + subparagraph (B)). + ``(B) Applicable amount. <> --For + purposes of this subsection, the term `applicable + amount' means-- + ``(i) for 2012, the monthly per capita dollar + amount of such rebates provided to enrollees under + the MA local plan with respect to 2011; and + ``(ii) for a subsequent year, 95 percent of + the amount determined under this subparagraph for + the preceding year. + ``(3) Special rules for plans in identified + areas. <> --Notwithstanding any other + provision of this part, the following shall apply with respect + to each Medicare Advantage organization offering an MA local + plan in an area identified by the Secretary under paragraph (1) + that makes an election described in paragraph (2): + ``(A) Payments.--The amount of the monthly payment + under this section to the Medicare Advantage + organization, with respect to coverage of a + grandfathered enrollee under this part in the area for a + month, shall be equal to-- + ``(i) for 2012 and 2013, the sum of-- + ``(I) the bid amount under section + 1854(a) for the MA local plan; and + ``(II) the applicable amount (as + defined in paragraph (2)(B)) for the MA + local plan for the year. + ``(ii) for 2014 and subsequent years, the sum + of-- + ``(I) the MA competitive benchmark + amount under subsection (j)(1)(A)(i) for + the area for the month, adjusted, only + to the extent the Secretary determines + necessary, to account for induced + utilization as a result of rebates + provided to grandfathered enrollees + (except that such adjustment shall not + exceed 0.5 percent of such MA + competitive benchmark amount); and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 452]] + + ``(II) the applicable amount (as so + defined) for the MA local plan for the + year. + ``(B) Requirement to submit bids under competitive + bidding.--The Medicare Advantage organization shall + submit a single bid amount under section 1854(a) for the + MA local plan. The Medicare Advantage organization shall + remove from such bid amount any effects of induced + demand for care that may result from the higher rebates + available to grandfathered enrollees under this + subsection. + ``(C) Nonapplication of bonus payments and any other + rebates.--The Medicare Advantage organization offering + the MA local plan shall not be eligible for any bonus + payment under subsection (n) or any rebate under this + part (other than as provided under this subsection) with + respect to grandfathered enrollees. + ``(D) Nonapplication of uniform bid and premium + amounts to grandfathered enrollees.--Section 1854(c) + shall not apply with respect to the MA local plan. + ``(E) Nonapplication of limitation on application of + plan rebates toward payment of part b premium.-- + Notwithstanding clause (iii) of section 1854(b)(1)(C), + in the case of a grandfathered enrollee, a rebate under + such section may be used for the purpose described in + clause (ii)(III) of such section. + ``(F) Risk adjustment.--The Secretary shall risk + adjust rebates to grandfathered enrollees under this + subsection in the same manner as the Secretary risk + adjusts beneficiary rebates described in section + 1854(b)(1)(C). + ``(4) Definition of grandfathered enrollee.--In this + subsection, the term `grandfathered enrollee' means an + individual who is enrolled (effective as of the date of + enactment of this subsection) in an MA local plan in an area + that is identified by the Secretary under paragraph (1).''. + + (h) Transitional Extra Benefits.--Section 1853 of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-23), as amended by subsections (f) and +(g), is amended by adding at the end the following new subsection: + ``(p) Transitional Extra Benefits.-- + ``(1) In general. <> --For years + beginning with 2012, the Secretary shall provide transitional + rebates under section 1854(b)(1)(C) for the provision of extra + benefits (as specified by the Secretary) to enrollees described + in paragraph (2). + ``(2) Enrollees described.--An enrollee described in this + paragraph is an individual who-- + ``(A) enrolls in an MA local plan in an applicable + area; and + ``(B) experiences a significant reduction in extra + benefits described in clause (ii) of section + 1854(b)(1)(C) as a result of competitive bidding under + this part (as determined by the Secretary). + ``(3) Applicable areas. <> --In this + subsection, the term `applicable area' means the following: + ``(A) The 2 largest metropolitan statistical areas, + if the Secretary determines that the total amount of + such extra benefits for each enrollee for the month in + those areas is greater than $100. + ``(B) A county where-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 453]] + + ``(i) the MA area-specific non-drug monthly + benchmark amount for a month in 2011 is equal to + the legacy urban floor amount (as described in + subsection (c)(1)(B)(iii)), as determined by the + Secretary for the area for 2011; + ``(ii) the percentage of Medicare Advantage + eligible beneficiaries in the county who are + enrolled in an MA plan for 2009 is greater than 30 + percent (as determined by the Secretary); and + ``(iii) average bids submitted by an MA + organization under section 1854(a) for MA local + plans in the county for 2011 are not greater than + the adjusted average per capita cost for the year + involved, determined under section 1876(a)(4), for + the county for individuals who are not enrolled in + an MA plan under this part for the year, but + adjusted to exclude costs attributable to payments + under section 1848(o), 1886(n), and 1886(h). + ``(C) If the Secretary determines appropriate, a + county contiguous to an area or county described in + subparagraph (A) or (B), respectively. + ``(4) Review of plan bids.--In the case of a bid submitted + by an MA organization under section 1854(a) for an MA local plan + in an applicable area, the Secretary shall review such bid in + order to ensure that extra benefits (as specified by the + Secretary) are provided to enrollees described in paragraph (2). + ``(5) Funding. <> --The Secretary + shall provide for the transfer from the Federal Hospital + Insurance Trust Fund under section 1817 and the Federal + Supplementary Medical Insurance Trust Fund established under + section 1841, in such proportion as the Secretary determines + appropriate, of an amount not to exceed $5,000,000,000 for the + period of fiscal years 2012 through 2019 for the purpose of + providing transitional rebates under section 1854(b)(1)(C) for + the provision of extra benefits under this subsection.''. + + (i) Nonapplication of Competitive Bidding and Related Provisions and +Clarification of MA Payment Area for PACE Programs.-- + (1) Nonapplication of competitive bidding and related + provisions for pace programs.--Section 1894 of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395eee) is amended-- + (A) by redesignating subsections (h) and (i) as + subsections (i) and (j), respectively; + (B) by inserting after subsection (g) the following + new subsection: + + ``(h) Nonapplication of Competitive Bidding and Related Provisions +Under Part C.--With respect to a PACE program under this section, the +following provisions (and regulations relating to such provisions) shall +not apply: + ``(1) Section 1853(j)(1)(A)(i), relating to MA area-specific + non-drug monthly benchmark amount being based on competitive + bids. + ``(2) Section 1853(d)(5), relating to the establishment of + MA local plan service areas. + ``(3) Section 1853(n), relating to the payment of + performance bonuses. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 454]] + + ``(4) Section 1853(o), relating to grandfathering + supplemental benefits for current enrollees after implementation + of competitive bidding. + ``(5) Section 1853(p), relating to transitional extra + benefits.''. + (2) Special rule for ma payment area for pace programs.-- + Section 1853(d) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- + 23(d)), as amended by subsection (e), is amended by adding at + the end the following new paragraph: + ``(6) Special rule for ma payment area for pace + programs. <> --For years beginning with + 2012, in the case of a PACE program under section 1894, the MA + payment area shall be the MA local area (as defined in paragraph + (2)).''. + +SEC. 3202. BENEFIT PROTECTION AND SIMPLIFICATION. + + (a) Limitation on Variation of Cost Sharing for Certain Benefits.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1852(a)(1)(B) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-22(a)(1)(B)) is amended-- + (A) in clause (i), by inserting ``, subject to + clause (iii),'' after ``and B or''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new clauses: + ``(iii) Limitation on variation of cost + sharing for certain benefits.--Subject to clause + (v), cost-sharing for services described in clause + (iv) shall not exceed the cost-sharing required + for those services under parts A and B. + ``(iv) Services described.--The following + services are described in this clause: + ``(I) Chemotherapy administration + services. + ``(II) Renal dialysis services (as + defined in section 1881(b)(14)(B)). + ``(III) Skilled nursing care. + ``(IV) Such other services that the + Secretary determines appropriate + (including services that the Secretary + determines require a high level of + predictability and transparency for + beneficiaries). + ``(v) Exception.--In the case of services + described in clause (iv) for which there is no + cost-sharing required under parts A and B, cost- + sharing may be required for those services in + accordance with clause (i).''. + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendments made by this subsection shall apply to plan years + beginning on or after January 1, 2011. + + (b) Application of Rebates, Performance Bonuses, and Premiums.-- + (1) Application of rebates.--Section 1854(b)(1)(C) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-24(b)(1)(C)) is amended-- + (A) in clause (ii), by striking ``rebate.--A + rebate'' and inserting ``rebate for plan years before + 2012.--For plan years before 2012, a rebate''; + (B) by redesignating clauses (iii) and (iv) as + clauses (iv) and (v); and + (C) by inserting after clause (ii) the following new + clause: + ``(iii) Form of rebate for plan year 2012 and + subsequent plan years. <> --For plan years beginning on or after + January 1, 2012, a rebate required under + +[[Page 124 STAT. 455]] + + this subparagraph may not be used for the purpose + described in clause (ii)(III) and shall be + provided through the application of the amount of + the rebate in the following priority order: + ``(I) First, to use the most + significant share to meaningfully reduce + cost-sharing otherwise applicable for + benefits under the original medicare + fee-for-service program under parts A + and B and for qualified prescription + drug coverage under part D, including + the reduction of any deductibles, + copayments, and maximum limitations on + out-of-pocket expenses otherwise + applicable. <> Any + reduction of maximum limitations on out- + of-pocket expenses under the preceding + sentence shall apply to all benefits + under the original medicare fee-for- + service program option. The Secretary + may provide guidance on meaningfully + reducing cost-sharing under this + subclause, except that such guidance may + not require a particular amount of cost- + sharing or reduction in cost-sharing. + ``(II) Second, to use the next most + significant share to meaningfully + provide coverage of preventive and + wellness health care benefits (as + defined by the Secretary) which are not + benefits under the original medicare + fee-for-service program, such as smoking + cessation, a free flu shot, and an + annual physical examination. + ``(III) Third, to use the remaining + share to meaningfully provide coverage + of other health care benefits which are + not benefits under the original medicare + fee-for-service program, such as eye + examinations and dental coverage, and + are not benefits described in subclause + (II).''. + (2) Application of performance bonuses.--Section 1853(n) of + the Social Security Act, as added by section 3201(f), is amended + by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(6) <> Application of performance + bonuses.--For plan years beginning on or after January 1, 2014, + any performance bonus paid to an MA plan under this subsection + shall be used for the purposes, and in the priority order, + described in subclauses (I) through (III) of section + 1854(b)(1)(C)(iii).''. + (3) Application of ma monthly supplementary beneficiary + premium.--Section 1854(b)(2)(C) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395w-24(b)(2)(C)) is amended-- + (A) by striking ``Premium.--The term'' and inserting + ``premium.-- + ``(i) In general.--The term''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(ii) Application of ma monthly supplementary + beneficiary premium. <> -- + For plan years beginning on or after January 1, + 2012, any MA monthly supplementary beneficiary + premium charged to an individual enrolled in an MA + plan shall be used for the purposes, and in the + priority order, described in subclauses (I) + through (III) of paragraph (1)(C)(iii).''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 456]] + +SEC. 3203. APPLICATION OF CODING INTENSITY ADJUSTMENT DURING MA PAYMENT + TRANSITION. + + Section 1853(a)(1)(C) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- +23(a)(1)(C)) is amended by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(iii) Application of coding intensity + adjustment for 2011 and subsequent years.-- + ``(I) Requirement to apply in 2011 + through 2013.--In order to ensure + payment accuracy, the Secretary shall + conduct an analysis of the differences + described in clause (ii)(I). The + Secretary shall ensure that the results + of such analysis are incorporated into + the risk scores for 2011, 2012, and + 2013. + ``(II) Authority to apply in 2014 + and subsequent years.--The Secretary + may, as appropriate, incorporate the + results of such analysis into the risk + scores for 2014 and subsequent years.''. + +SEC. 3204. SIMPLIFICATION OF ANNUAL BENEFICIARY ELECTION PERIODS. + + (a) Annual 45-day Period for Disenrollment From MA Plans To Elect To +Receive Benefits Under the Original Medicare Fee-for-service Program.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1851(e)(2)(C) of the Social + Security Act <> (42 U.S.C. 1395w- + 1(e)(2)(C)) is amended to read as follows: + ``(C) Annual 45-day period for disenrollment from ma + plans to elect to receive benefits under the original + medicare fee-for-service program. <> --Subject to subparagraph (D), at any time + during the first 45 days of a year (beginning with + 2011), an individual who is enrolled in a Medicare + Advantage plan may change the election under subsection + (a)(1), but only with respect to coverage under the + original medicare fee-for-service program under parts A + and B, and may elect qualified prescription drug + coverage in accordance with section 1860D-1.''. + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendment made by paragraph (1) shall apply with respect to 2011 + and succeeding years. + + (b) Timing of the Annual, Coordinated Election Period Under Parts C +and D.--Section 1851(e)(3)(B) of the Social Security Act <> (42 U.S.C. 1395w-1(e)(3)(B)) is amended-- + (1) in clause (iii), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) in clause (iv)-- + (A) by striking ``and succeeding years'' and + inserting ``, 2008, 2009, and 2010''; and + (B) by striking the period at the end and inserting + ``; and''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(v) with respect to 2012 and succeeding + years, the period beginning on October 15 and + ending on December 7 of the year before such + year.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 457]] + +SEC. 3205. EXTENSION FOR SPECIALIZED MA PLANS FOR SPECIAL NEEDS + INDIVIDUALS. + + (a) Extension of SNP Authority.--Section 1859(f)(1) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-28(f)(1)), as amended by section 164(a) of +the Medicare Improvements for Patients and Providers Act of 2008 (Public +Law 110-275), is amended by striking ``2011'' and inserting ``2014''. + (b) Authority To Apply Frailty Adjustment Under PACE Payment +Rules.--Section 1853(a)(1)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395w-23(a)(1)(B)) is amended by adding at the end the following new +clause: + ``(iv) Authority to apply frailty adjustment + under pace payment rules for certain specialized + ma plans for special needs individuals.-- + ``(I) In general.--Notwithstanding + the preceding provisions of this + paragraph, for plan year 2011 and + subsequent plan years, in the case of a + plan described in subclause (II), the + Secretary may apply the payment rules + under section 1894(d) (other than + paragraph (3) of such section) rather + than the payment rules that would + otherwise apply under this part, but + only to the extent necessary to reflect + the costs of treating high + concentrations of frail individuals. + ``(II) Plan described.--A plan + described in this subclause is a + specialized MA plan for special needs + individuals described in section + 1859(b)(6)(B)(ii) that is fully + integrated with capitated contracts with + States for Medicaid benefits, including + long-term care, and that have similar + average levels of frailty (as determined + by the Secretary) as the PACE + program.''. + + (c) Transition and Exception Regarding Restriction on Enrollment.-- +Section 1859(f) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-28(f)) is +amended by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(6) Transition and exception regarding restriction on + enrollment.-- + ``(A) In general. <> --Subject to + subparagraph (C), the Secretary shall establish + procedures for the transition of applicable individuals + to-- + ``(i) a Medicare Advantage plan that is not a + specialized MA plan for special needs individuals + (as defined in subsection (b)(6)); or + ``(ii) the original medicare fee-for-service + program under parts A and B. + ``(B) Applicable + individuals. <> --For purposes of + clause (i), the term `applicable individual' means an + individual who-- + ``(i) is enrolled under a specialized MA plan + for special needs individuals (as defined in + subsection (b)(6)); and + ``(ii) is not within the 1 or more of the + classes of special needs individuals to which + enrollment under the plan is restricted to. + ``(C) Exception.--The Secretary shall provide for an + exception to the transition described in subparagraph + (A) + +[[Page 124 STAT. 458]] + + for a limited period of time for individuals enrolled + under a specialized MA plan for special needs + individuals described in subsection (b)(6)(B)(ii) who + are no longer eligible for medical assistance under + title XIX. + ``(D) Timeline for initial + transition. <> --The Secretary shall + ensure that applicable individuals enrolled in a + specialized MA plan for special needs individuals (as + defined in subsection (b)(6)) prior to January 1, 2010, + are transitioned to a plan or the program described in + subparagraph (A) by not later than January 1, 2013.''. + + (d) Temporary Extension of Authority To Operate but No Service Area +Expansion for Dual Special Needs Plans That Do Not Meet Certain +Requirements.--Section 164(c)(2) of the Medicare Improvements for +Patients and Providers Act of 2008 (Public Law 110-275) <> is amended by striking ``December 31, 2010'' and +inserting ``December 31, 2012''. + + (e) Authority To Require Special Needs Plans Be NCQA Approved.-- +Section 1859(f) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-28(f)), as +amended by subsections (a) and (c), is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (2), by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(C) If applicable, the plan meets the requirement + described in paragraph (7).''; + (2) in paragraph (3), by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(E) If applicable, the plan meets the requirement + described in paragraph (7).''; + (3) in paragraph (4), by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(C) If applicable, the plan meets the requirement + described in paragraph (7).''; and + (4) by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(7) Authority to require special needs plans be ncqa + approved. <> --For 2012 and subsequent years, + the Secretary shall require that a Medicare Advantage + organization offering a specialized MA plan for special needs + individuals be approved by the National Committee for Quality + Assurance (based on standards established by the Secretary).''. + + (f) Risk Adjustment.--Section 1853(a)(1)(C) of the Social Security +Act <> (42 U.S.C. 1395i-23(a)(1)(C)) is amended +by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(iii) Improvements to risk adjustment for + special needs individuals with chronic health + conditions.-- + ``(I) In general.--For 2011 and + subsequent years, for purposes of the + adjustment under clause (i) with respect + to individuals described in subclause + (II), the Secretary shall use a risk + score that reflects the known underlying + risk profile and chronic health status + of similar individuals. Such risk score + shall be used instead of the default + risk score for new enrollees in Medicare + Advantage plans that are not specialized + MA plans for special needs individuals + (as defined in section 1859(b)(6)). + ``(II) Individuals described.--An + individual described in this subclause + is a special needs individual described + in subsection (b)(6)(B)(iii) who + +[[Page 124 STAT. 459]] + + enrolls in a specialized MA plan for + special needs individuals on or after + January 1, 2011. + ``(III) Evaluation.--For 2011 and + periodically thereafter, the Secretary + shall evaluate and revise the risk + adjustment system under this + subparagraph in order to, as accurately + as possible, account for higher medical + and care coordination costs associated + with frailty, individuals with multiple, + comorbid chronic conditions, and + individuals with a diagnosis of mental + illness, and also to account for costs + that may be associated with higher + concentrations of beneficiaries with + those conditions. + ``(IV) Publication of evaluation and + revisions.--The Secretary shall publish, + as part of an announcement under + subsection (b), a description of any + evaluation conducted under subclause + (III) during the preceding year and any + revisions made under such subclause as a + result of such evaluation.''. + + (g) Technical Correction.--Section 1859(f)(5) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-28(f)(5)) is amended, in the matter preceding +subparagraph (A), by striking ``described in subsection (b)(6)(B)(i)''. + +SEC. 3206. EXTENSION OF REASONABLE COST CONTRACTS. + + Section 1876(h)(5)(C)(ii) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395mm(h)(5)(C)(ii)) is amended, in the matter preceding subclause (I), +by striking ``January 1, 2010'' and inserting ``January 1, 2013''. + +SEC. 3207. <> TECHNICAL CORRECTION TO MA + PRIVATE FEE-FOR-SERVICE PLANS. + + <> For plan year 2011 and subsequent plan +years, to the extent that the Secretary of Health and Human Services is +applying the 2008 service area extension waiver policy (as modified in +the April 11, 2008, Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services' memorandum +with the subject ``2009 Employer Group Waiver-Modification of the 2008 +Service Area Extension Waiver Granted to Certain MA Local Coordinated +Care Plans'') to Medicare Advantage coordinated care plans, the +Secretary shall extend the application of such waiver policy to +employers who contract directly with the Secretary as a Medicare +Advantage private fee-for-service plan under section 1857(i)(2) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-27(i)(2)) and that had enrollment +as of October 1, 2009. + +SEC. 3208. MAKING SENIOR HOUSING FACILITY DEMONSTRATION PERMANENT. + + (a) In General.--Section 1859 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395w-28) is amended by adding at the end the following new subsection: + ``(g) Special Rules for Senior Housing Facility Plans.-- + ``(1) In general.--In the case of a Medicare Advantage + senior housing facility plan described in paragraph (2), + notwithstanding any other provision of this part to the contrary + and in accordance with regulations of the Secretary, the service + area of such plan may be limited to a senior housing facility in + a geographic area. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 460]] + + ``(2) Medicare advantage senior housing facility plan + described.--For purposes of this subsection, a Medicare + Advantage senior housing facility plan is a Medicare Advantage + plan that-- + ``(A) restricts enrollment of individuals under this + part to individuals who reside in a continuing care + retirement community (as defined in section + 1852(l)(4)(B)); + ``(B) provides primary care services onsite and has + a ratio of accessible physicians to beneficiaries that + the Secretary determines is adequate; + ``(C) provides transportation services for + beneficiaries to specialty providers outside of the + facility; and + ``(D) has participated (as of December 31, 2009) in + a demonstration project established by the Secretary + under which such a plan was offered for not less than 1 + year.''. + + (b) Effective Date. <> --The amendment +made by this section shall take effect on January 1, 2010, and shall +apply to plan years beginning on or after such date. + +SEC. 3209. AUTHORITY TO DENY PLAN BIDS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1854(a)(5) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395w-24(a)(5)) is amended by adding at the end the following new +subparagraph: + ``(C) Rejection of bids.-- + ``(i) In general.--Nothing in this section + shall be construed as requiring the Secretary to + accept any or every bid submitted by an MA + organization under this subsection. + ``(ii) Authority to deny bids that propose + significant increases in cost sharing or decreases + in benefits.--The Secretary may deny a bid + submitted by an MA organization for an MA plan if + it proposes significant increases in cost sharing + or decreases in benefits offered under the + plan.''. + + (b) Application Under Part D.--Section 1860D-11(d) of such Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395w-111(d)) is amended by adding at the end the following new +paragraph: + ``(3) Rejection of bids. <> -- + Paragraph (5)(C) of section 1854(a) shall apply with respect to + bids submitted by a PDP sponsor under subsection (b) in the same + manner as such paragraph applies to bids submitted by an MA + organization under such section 1854(a).''. + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to bids submitted for contract years +beginning on or after January 1, 2011. + +SEC. 3210. DEVELOPMENT OF NEW STANDARDS FOR CERTAIN MEDIGAP PLANS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1882 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395ss) is amended by adding at the end the following new subsection: + ``(y) Development of New Standards for Certain Medicare Supplemental +Policies.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall request the National + Association of Insurance Commissioners to review and revise the + standards for benefit packages described in paragraph (2) under + subsection (p)(1), to otherwise update standards to include + requirements for nominal cost sharing to encourage + +[[Page 124 STAT. 461]] + + the use of appropriate physicians' services under part B. Such + revisions shall be based on evidence published in peer-reviewed + journals or current examples used by integrated delivery systems + and made consistent with the rules applicable under subsection + (p)(1)(E) with the reference to the `1991 NAIC Model Regulation' + deemed a reference to the NAIC Model Regulation as published in + the Federal Register on December 4, 1998, and as subsequently + updated by the National Association of Insurance Commissioners + to reflect previous changes in law and the reference to `date of + enactment of this subsection' deemed a reference to the date of + enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act. <> To the extent practicable, such + revision shall provide for the implementation of revised + standards for benefit packages as of January 1, 2015. + ``(2) Benefit packages described.--The benefit packages + described in this paragraph are benefit packages classified as + `C' and `F'.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendment.--Section 1882(o)(1) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ss(o)(1)) is amended by striking ``, and (w)'' and +inserting ``(w), and (y)''. + +Subtitle D--Medicare Part D Improvements for Prescription Drug Plans and + MA-PD Plans + +SEC. 3301. MEDICARE COVERAGE GAP DISCOUNT PROGRAM. + + (a) Condition for Coverage of Drugs Under Part D.--Part D of Title +XVIII of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-101 et seq.), is +amended by adding at the end the following new section: + + + ``condition for coverage of drugs under this part + + + ``Sec. 1860D-43. <> (a) In +General.--In order for coverage to be available under this part for +covered part D drugs (as defined in section 1860D-2(e)) of a +manufacturer, the manufacturer must-- + ``(1) participate in the Medicare coverage gap discount + program under section 1860D-14A; + ``(2) have entered into and have in effect an agreement + described in subsection (b) of such section with the Secretary; + and + ``(3) have entered into and have in effect, under terms and + conditions specified by the Secretary, a contract with a third + party that the Secretary has entered into a contract with under + subsection (d)(3) of such section. + + ``(b) Effective Date.--Subsection (a) shall apply to covered part D +drugs dispensed under this part on or after July 1, 2010. + ``(c) Authorizing Coverage for Drugs Not Covered Under Agreements.-- +Subsection (a) shall not apply to the dispensing of a covered part D +drug if-- + ``(1) <> the Secretary has made a + determination that the availability of the drug is essential to + the health of beneficiaries under this part; or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 462]] + + ``(2) <> the Secretary + determines that in the period beginning on July 1, 2010, and + ending on December 31, 2010, there were extenuating + circumstances. + + ``(d) Definition of Manufacturer.--In this section, the term +`manufacturer' has the meaning given such term in section 1860D- +14A(g)(5).''. + (b) Medicare Coverage Gap Discount Program.--Part D of title XVIII +of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-101) is amended by inserting +after section 1860D-14 the following new section: + + + ``medicare coverage gap discount program + + + ``Sec. 1860D-14A. <> (a) +Establishment.--The Secretary shall establish a Medicare coverage gap +discount program (in this section referred to as the `program') by not +later than July 1, 2010. <> Under the program, the +Secretary shall enter into agreements described in subsection (b) with +manufacturers and provide for the performance of the duties described in +subsection (c)(1). The Secretary shall establish a model agreement for +use under the program by not later than April 1, 2010, in consultation +with manufacturers, and allow for comment on such model agreement. + + ``(b) Terms of Agreement.-- + ``(1) In general.-- + ``(A) Agreement.--An agreement under this section + shall require the manufacturer to provide applicable + beneficiaries access to discounted prices for applicable + drugs of the manufacturer. + ``(B) Provision of discounted prices at the point- + of-sale.--Except as provided in subsection + (c)(1)(A)(iii), such discounted prices shall be provided + to the applicable beneficiary at the pharmacy or by the + mail order service at the point-of-sale of an applicable + drug. + ``(C) <> Timing of agreement.-- + ``(i) Special rule for 2010 and 2011.--In + order for an agreement with a manufacturer to be + in effect under this section with respect to the + period beginning on July 1, 2010, and ending on + December 31, 2011, the manufacturer shall enter + into such agreement not later than May 1, 2010. + ``(ii) 2012 and subsequent years.--In order + for an agreement with a manufacturer to be in + effect under this section with respect to plan + year 2012 or a subsequent plan year, the + manufacturer shall enter into such agreement (or + such agreement shall be renewed under paragraph + (4)(A)) not later than January 30 of the preceding + year. + ``(2) Provision of appropriate + data. <> --Each manufacturer with an + agreement in effect under this section shall collect and have + available appropriate data, as determined by the Secretary, to + ensure that it can demonstrate to the Secretary compliance with + the requirements under the program. + ``(3) Compliance with requirements for administration of + program.--Each manufacturer with an agreement in effect under + this section shall comply with requirements imposed by the + Secretary or a third party with a contract under subsection + (d)(3), as applicable, for purposes of administering the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 463]] + + program, including any determination under clause (i) of + subsection (c)(1)(A) or procedures established under such + subsection (c)(1)(A). + ``(4) Length of agreement.-- + ``(A) In general. <> --An + agreement under this section shall be effective for an + initial period of not less than 18 months and shall be + automatically renewed for a period of not less than 1 + year unless terminated under subparagraph (B). + ``(B) Termination.-- + ``(i) By the secretary.--The Secretary may + provide for termination of an agreement under this + section for a knowing and willful violation of the + requirements of the agreement or other good cause + shown. <> Such termination shall + not be effective earlier than 30 days after the + date of notice to the manufacturer of such + termination. The Secretary shall provide, upon + request, a manufacturer with a hearing concerning + such a termination, and such hearing shall take + place prior to the effective date of the + termination with sufficient time for such + effective date to be repealed if the Secretary + determines appropriate. + ``(ii) By a manufacturer.--A manufacturer may + terminate an agreement under this section for any + reason. Any such termination shall be effective, + with respect to a plan year-- + ``(I) if the termination occurs + before January 30 of a plan year, as of + the day after the end of the plan year; + and + ``(II) if the termination occurs on + or after January 30 of a plan year, as + of the day after the end of the + succeeding plan year. + ``(iii) Effectiveness of termination.--Any + termination under this subparagraph shall not + affect discounts for applicable drugs of the + manufacturer that are due under the agreement + before the effective date of its termination. + ``(iv) Notice to third + party. <> --The Secretary shall + provide notice of such termination to a third + party with a contract under subsection (d)(3) + within not less than 30 days before the effective + date of such termination. + + ``(c) Duties Described and Special Rule for Supplemental Benefits.-- + ``(1) Duties described.--The duties described in this + subsection are the following: + ``(A) Administration of + program. <> --Administering the + program, including-- + ``(i) <> the + determination of the amount of the discounted + price of an applicable drug of a manufacturer; + ``(ii) except as provided in clause (iii), the + establishment of procedures under which discounted + prices are provided to applicable beneficiaries at + pharmacies or by mail order service at the point- + of-sale of an applicable drug; + ``(iii) in the case where, during the period + beginning on July 1, 2010, and ending on December + 31, 2011, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 464]] + + it is not practicable to provide such discounted + prices at the point-of-sale (as described in + clause (ii)), the establishment of procedures to + provide such discounted prices as soon as + practicable after the point-of-sale; + ``(iv) the establishment of procedures to + ensure that, not later than the applicable number + of calendar days after the dispensing of an + applicable drug by a pharmacy or mail order + service, the pharmacy or mail order service is + reimbursed for an amount equal to the difference + between-- + ``(I) the negotiated price of the + applicable drug; and + ``(II) the discounted price of the + applicable drug; + ``(v) the establishment of procedures to + ensure that the discounted price for an applicable + drug under this section is applied before any + coverage or financial assistance under other + health benefit plans or programs that provide + coverage or financial assistance for the purchase + or provision of prescription drug coverage on + behalf of applicable beneficiaries as the + Secretary may specify; + ``(vi) the establishment of procedures to + implement the special rule for supplemental + benefits under paragraph (2); and + ``(vii) providing a reasonable dispute + resolution mechanism to resolve disagreements + between manufacturers, applicable beneficiaries, + and the third party with a contract under + subsection (d)(3). + ``(B) Monitoring compliance.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall monitor + compliance by a manufacturer with the terms of an + agreement under this section. + ``(ii) Notification.--If a third party with a + contract under subsection (d)(3) determines that + the manufacturer is not in compliance with such + agreement, the third party shall notify the + Secretary of such noncompliance for appropriate + enforcement under subsection (e). + ``(C) Collection of data from prescription drug + plans and ma-pd plans.--The Secretary may collect + appropriate data from prescription drug plans and MA-PD + plans in a timeframe that allows for discounted prices + to be provided for applicable drugs under this section. + ``(2) Special rule for supplemental benefits.--For plan year + 2010 and each subsequent plan year, in the case where an + applicable beneficiary has supplemental benefits with respect to + applicable drugs under the prescription drug plan or MA-PD plan + that the applicable beneficiary is enrolled in, the applicable + beneficiary shall not be provided a discounted price for an + applicable drug under this section until after such supplemental + benefits have been applied with respect to the applicable drug. + + ``(d) Administration.-- + ``(1) In general.--Subject to paragraph (2), the Secretary + shall provide for the implementation of this section, including + the performance of the duties described in subsection (c)(1). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 465]] + + ``(2) Limitation.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), in + providing for such implementation, the Secretary shall + not receive or distribute any funds of a manufacturer + under the program. + ``(B) Exception. <> --The limitation under + subparagraph (A) shall not apply to the Secretary with + respect to drugs dispensed during the period beginning + on July 1, 2010, and ending on December 31, 2010, but + only if the Secretary determines that the exception to + such limitation under this subparagraph is necessary in + order for the Secretary to begin implementation of this + section and provide applicable beneficiaries timely + access to discounted prices during such period. + ``(3) Contract with third parties.--The Secretary shall + enter into a contract with 1 or more third parties to administer + the requirements established by the Secretary in order to carry + out this section. At a minimum, the contract with a third party + under the preceding sentence shall require that the third + party-- + ``(A) receive and transmit information between the + Secretary, manufacturers, and other individuals or + entities the Secretary determines appropriate; + ``(B) receive, distribute, or facilitate the + distribution of funds of manufacturers to appropriate + individuals or entities in order to meet the obligations + of manufacturers under agreements under this section; + ``(C) provide adequate and timely information to + manufacturers, consistent with the agreement with the + manufacturer under this section, as necessary for the + manufacturer to fulfill its obligations under this + section; and + ``(D) permit manufacturers to conduct periodic + audits, directly or through contracts, of the data and + information used by the third party to determine + discounts for applicable drugs of the manufacturer under + the program. + ``(4) Performance requirements.--The Secretary shall + establish performance requirements for a third party with a + contract under paragraph (3) and safeguards to protect the + independence and integrity of the activities carried out by the + third party under the program under this section. + ``(5) Implementation.--The Secretary may implement the + program under this section by program instruction or otherwise. + ``(6) Administration.--Chapter 35 of title 44, United States + Code, shall not apply to the program under this section. + + ``(e) Enforcement.-- + ``(1) Audits.--Each manufacturer with an agreement in effect + under this section shall be subject to periodic audit by the + Secretary. + ``(2) Civil money penalty.-- + ``(A) In general. <> --The + Secretary shall impose a civil money penalty on a + manufacturer that fails to provide applicable + beneficiaries discounts for applicable drugs of the + manufacturer in accordance with such agreement for each + such failure in an amount the Secretary determines is + commensurate with the sum of-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 466]] + + ``(i) the amount that the manufacturer would + have paid with respect to such discounts under the + agreement, which will then be used to pay the + discounts which the manufacturer had failed to + provide; and + ``(ii) 25 percent of such amount. + ``(B) Application.--The provisions of section 1128A + (other than subsections (a) and (b)) shall apply to a + civil money penalty under this paragraph in the same + manner as such provisions apply to a penalty or + proceeding under section 1128A(a). + + ``(f) Clarification Regarding Availability of Other Covered Part D +Drugs.--Nothing in this section shall prevent an applicable beneficiary +from purchasing a covered part D drug that is not an applicable drug +(including a generic drug or a drug that is not on the formulary of the +prescription drug plan or MA-PD plan that the applicable beneficiary is +enrolled in). + ``(g) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Applicable beneficiary.--The term `applicable + beneficiary' means an individual who, on the date of dispensing + an applicable drug-- + ``(A) is enrolled in a prescription drug plan or an + MA-PD plan; + ``(B) is not enrolled in a qualified retiree + prescription drug plan; + ``(C) is not entitled to an income-related subsidy + under section 1860D-14(a); + ``(D) is not subject to a reduction in premium + subsidy under section 1839(i); and + ``(E) who-- + ``(i) has reached or exceeded the initial + coverage limit under section 1860D-2(b)(3) during + the year; and + ``(ii) has not incurred costs for covered part + D drugs in the year equal to the annual out-of- + pocket threshold specified in section 1860D- + 2(b)(4)(B). + ``(2) Applicable drug.--The term `applicable drug' means, + with respect to an applicable beneficiary, a covered part D + drug-- + ``(A) approved under a new drug application under + section 505(b) of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic + Act or, in the case of a biologic product, licensed + under section 351 of the Public Health Service Act + (other than a product licensed under subsection (k) of + such section 351); and + ``(B)(i) if the PDP sponsor of the prescription drug + plan or the MA organization offering the MA-PD plan uses + a formulary, which is on the formulary of the + prescription drug plan or MA-PD plan that the applicable + beneficiary is enrolled in; + ``(ii) if the PDP sponsor of the prescription drug + plan or the MA organization offering the MA-PD plan does + not use a formulary, for which benefits are available + under the prescription drug plan or MA-PD plan that the + applicable beneficiary is enrolled in; or + ``(iii) is provided through an exception or appeal. + ``(3) Applicable number of calendar days.--The term + `applicable number of calendar days' means-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 467]] + + ``(A) with respect to claims for reimbursement + submitted electronically, 14 days; and + ``(B) with respect to claims for reimbursement + submitted otherwise, 30 days. + ``(4) Discounted price.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `discounted price' means + 50 percent of the negotiated price of the applicable + drug of a manufacturer. + ``(B) Clarification.--Nothing in this section shall + be construed as affecting the responsibility of an + applicable beneficiary for payment of a dispensing fee + for an applicable drug. + ``(C) Special case for certain claims.--In the case + where the entire amount of the negotiated price of an + individual claim for an applicable drug with respect to + an applicable beneficiary does not fall at or above the + initial coverage limit under section 1860D-2(b)(3) and + below the annual out-of-pocket threshold specified in + section 1860D-2(b)(4)(B) for the year, the manufacturer + of the applicable drug shall provide the discounted + price under this section on only the portion of the + negotiated price of the applicable drug that falls at or + above such initial coverage limit and below such annual + out-of-pocket threshold. + ``(5) Manufacturer.--The term `manufacturer' means any + entity which is engaged in the production, preparation, + propagation, compounding, conversion, or processing of + prescription drug products, either directly or indirectly by + extraction from substances of natural origin, or independently + by means of chemical synthesis, or by a combination of + extraction and chemical synthesis. Such term does not include a + wholesale distributor of drugs or a retail pharmacy licensed + under State law. + ``(6) Negotiated price.--The term `negotiated price' has the + meaning given such term in section 423.100 of title 42, Code of + Federal Regulations (as in effect on the date of enactment of + this section), except that such negotiated price shall not + include any dispensing fee for the applicable drug. + ``(7) Qualified retiree prescription drug plan.--The term + `qualified retiree prescription drug plan' has the meaning given + such term in section 1860D-22(a)(2).''. + + (c) Inclusion in Incurred Costs.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1860D-2(b)(4) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-102(b)(4)) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (C), in the matter preceding + clause (i), by striking ``In applying'' and inserting + ``Except as provided in subparagraph (E), in applying''; + and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(E) Inclusion of costs of applicable drugs under + medicare coverage gap discount program.--In applying + subparagraph (A), incurred costs shall include the + negotiated price (as defined in paragraph (6) of section + 1860D-14A(g)) of an applicable drug (as defined in + paragraph (2) of such section) of a manufacturer that is + furnished to an applicable beneficiary (as defined in + paragraph (1) of such section) under the Medicare + coverage gap discount + +[[Page 124 STAT. 468]] + + program under section 1860D-14A, regardless of whether + part of such costs were paid by a manufacturer under + such program.''. + (2) Effective date. <> --The + amendments made by this subsection shall apply to costs incurred + on or after July 1, 2010. + + (d) Conforming Amendment Permitting Prescription Drug Discounts.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1128B(b)(3) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7b(b)(3)) is amended-- + (A) by striking ``and'' at the end of subparagraph + (G); + (B) in the subparagraph (H) added by section 237(d) + of the Medicare Prescription Drug, Improvement, and + Modernization Act of 2003 (Public Law 108-173; 117 Stat. + 2213)-- + (i) by moving such subparagraph 2 ems to the + left; and + (ii) by striking the period at the end and + inserting a semicolon; + (C) in the subparagraph (H) added by section 431(a) + of such Act (117 Stat. 2287)-- + (i) by redesignating such subparagraph as + subparagraph (I); + (ii) by moving such subparagraph 2 ems to the + left; and + (iii) by striking the period at the end and + inserting ``; and''; and + (D) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(J) a discount in the price of an applicable drug + (as defined in paragraph (2) of section 1860D-14A(g)) of + a manufacturer that is furnished to an applicable + beneficiary (as defined in paragraph (1) of such + section) under the Medicare coverage gap discount + program under section 1860D-14A.''. + (2) Conforming amendment to definition of best price under + medicaid.--Section 1927(c)(1)(C)(i)(VI) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8(c)(1)(C)(i)(VI)) is amended by inserting + ``, or any discounts provided by manufacturers under the + Medicare coverage gap discount program under section 1860D-14A'' + before the period at the end. + (3) <> Effective date.--The + amendments made by this subsection shall apply to drugs + dispensed on or after July 1, 2010. + +SEC. 3302. IMPROVEMENT IN DETERMINATION OF MEDICARE PART D LOW-INCOME + BENCHMARK PREMIUM. + + (a) In General.--Section 1860D-14(b)(2)(B)(iii) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-114(b)(2)(B)(iii)) is amended by inserting +``, determined without regard to any reduction in such premium as a +result of any beneficiary rebate under section 1854(b)(1)(C) or bonus +payment under section 1853(n)'' before the period at the end. + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment +made by subsection (a) shall apply to premiums for months beginning on +or after January 1, 2011. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 469]] + +SEC. 3303. VOLUNTARY DE MINIMIS POLICY FOR SUBSIDY ELIGIBLE INDIVIDUALS + UNDER PRESCRIPTION DRUG PLANS AND MA-PD PLANS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1860D-14(a) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395w-114(a)) is amended by adding at the end the following new +paragraph: + ``(5) Waiver of de minimis + premiums. <> --The Secretary shall, under + procedures established by the Secretary, permit a prescription + drug plan or an MA-PD plan to waive the monthly beneficiary + premium for a subsidy eligible individual if the amount of such + premium is de minimis. If such premium is waived under the plan, + the Secretary shall not reassign subsidy eligible individuals + enrolled in the plan to other plans based on the fact that the + monthly beneficiary premium under the plan was greater than the + low-income benchmark premium amount.''. + + (b) Authorizing the Secretary To Auto-enroll Subsidy Eligible +Individuals in Plans That Waive De Minimis Premiums.--Section 1860D- +1(b)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-101(b)(1)) is +amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (C), by inserting ``except as provided + in subparagraph (D),'' after ``shall include,'' + (2) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(D) Special rule for plans that waive de minimis + premiums.--The process established under subparagraph + (A) may include, in the case of a part D eligible + individual who is a subsidy eligible individual (as + defined in section 1860D-14(a)(3)) who has failed to + enroll in a prescription drug plan or an MA-PD plan, for + the enrollment in a prescription drug plan or MA-PD plan + that has waived the monthly beneficiary premium for such + subsidy eligible individual under section 1860D- + 14(a)(5). If there is more than one such plan available, + the Secretary shall enroll such an individual under the + preceding sentence on a random basis among all such + plans in the PDP region. Nothing in the previous + sentence shall prevent such an individual from declining + or changing such enrollment.''. + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this subsection shall apply to premiums for months, and +enrollments for plan years, beginning on or after January 1, 2011. + +SEC. 3304. SPECIAL RULE FOR WIDOWS AND WIDOWERS REGARDING ELIGIBILITY + FOR LOW-INCOME ASSISTANCE. + + (a) In General.--Section 1860D-14(a)(3)(B) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-114(a)(3)(B)) is amended by adding at the end the +following new clause: + ``(vi) Special rule for widows and widowers.-- + Notwithstanding the preceding provisions of this + subparagraph, in the case of an individual whose + spouse dies during the effective period for a + determination or redetermination that has been + made under this subparagraph, such effective + period shall be extended through the date that is + 1 year after the date on which the determination + or redetermination would (but for the application + of this clause) otherwise cease to be + effective.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 470]] + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment +made by subsection (a) shall take effect on January 1, 2011. + +SEC. 3305. IMPROVED INFORMATION FOR SUBSIDY ELIGIBLE INDIVIDUALS + REASSIGNED TO PRESCRIPTION DRUG PLANS AND MA-PD PLANS. + + Section 1860D-14 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-114) is +amended-- + (1) by redesignating subsection (d) as subsection (e); and + (2) by inserting after subsection (c) the following new + subsection: + + ``(d) Facilitation of Reassignments. <> -- +Beginning not later than January 1, 2011, the Secretary shall, in the +case of a subsidy eligible individual who is enrolled in one +prescription drug plan and is subsequently reassigned by the Secretary +to a new prescription drug plan, provide the individual, within 30 days +of such reassignment, with-- + ``(1) information on formulary differences between the + individual's former plan and the plan to which the individual is + reassigned with respect to the individual's drug regimens; and + ``(2) a description of the individual's right to request a + coverage determination, exception, or reconsideration under + section 1860D-4(g), bring an appeal under section 1860D-4(h), or + resolve a grievance under section 1860D-4(f).''. + +SEC. 3306. FUNDING OUTREACH AND ASSISTANCE FOR LOW-INCOME PROGRAMS. + + (a) Additional Funding for State Health Insurance Programs.-- +Subsection (a)(1)(B) of section 119 of the Medicare Improvements for +Patients and Providers Act of 2008 (42 U.S.C. 1395b-3 note) is amended +by striking ``(42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(f))'' and all that follows through the +period at the end and inserting ``(42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(f)), to the +Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services Program Management Account-- + ``(i) for fiscal year 2009, of $7,500,000; and + ``(ii) for the period of fiscal years 2010 + through 2012, of $15,000,000. + Amounts appropriated under this subparagraph shall + remain available until expended.''. + + (b) Additional Funding for Area Agencies on Aging.--Subsection +(b)(1)(B) of such section 119 is amended by striking ``(42 U.S.C. 1395w- +23(f))'' and all that follows through the period at the end and +inserting ``(42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(f)), to the Administration on Aging-- + ``(i) for fiscal year 2009, of $7,500,000; and + ``(ii) for the period of fiscal years 2010 + through 2012, of $15,000,000. + Amounts appropriated under this subparagraph shall + remain available until expended.''. + + (c) Additional Funding for Aging and Disability Resource Centers.-- +Subsection (c)(1)(B) of such section 119 is amended by striking ``(42 +U.S.C. 1395w-23(f))'' and all that follows through the period at the end +and inserting ``(42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(f)), to the Administration on +Aging-- + ``(i) for fiscal year 2009, of $5,000,000; and + ``(ii) for the period of fiscal years 2010 + through 2012, of $10,000,000. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 471]] + + Amounts appropriated under this subparagraph shall + remain available until expended.''. + + (d) Additional Funding for Contract With the National Center for +Benefits and Outreach Enrollment.--Subsection (d)(2) of such section 119 +is amended by striking ``(42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(f))'' and all that follows +through the period at the end and inserting ``(42 U.S.C. 1395w-23(f)), +to the Administration on Aging-- + ``(i) for fiscal year 2009, of $5,000,000; and + ``(ii) for the period of fiscal years 2010 + through 2012, of $5,000,000. + Amounts appropriated under this subparagraph shall + remain available until expended.''. + + (e) Secretarial Authority To Enlist Support in Conducting Certain +Outreach Activities.--Such section 119 is amended by adding at the end +the following new subsection: + ``(g) Secretarial Authority To Enlist Support in Conducting Certain +Outreach Activities.--The Secretary may request that an entity awarded a +grant under this section support the conduct of outreach activities +aimed at preventing disease and promoting wellness. Notwithstanding any +other provision of this section, an entity may use a grant awarded under +this subsection to support the conduct of activities described in the +preceding sentence.''. + +SEC. 3307. IMPROVING FORMULARY REQUIREMENTS FOR PRESCRIPTION DRUG PLANS + AND MA-PD PLANS WITH RESPECT TO CERTAIN CATEGORIES OR + CLASSES OF DRUGS. + + (a) Improving Formulary Requirements.--Section 1860D- +4(b)(3)(G) <> of the Social Security Act is +amended to read as follows: + ``(G) Required inclusion of drugs in certain + categories and classes.-- + ``(i) Formulary requirements.-- + ``(I) In general.--Subject to + subclause (II), a PDP sponsor offering a + prescription drug plan shall be required + to include all covered part D drugs in + the categories and classes identified by + the Secretary under clause (ii)(I). + ``(II) Exceptions.--The Secretary + may establish exceptions that permit a + PDP sponsor offering a prescription drug + plan to exclude from its formulary a + particular covered part D drug in a + category or class that is otherwise + required to be included in the formulary + under subclause (I) (or to otherwise + limit access to such a drug, including + through prior authorization or + utilization management). + ``(ii) Identification of drugs in certain + categories and classes.-- + ``(I) In general.--Subject to clause + (iv), the Secretary shall identify, as + appropriate, categories and classes of + drugs for which the Secretary determines + are of clinical concern. + ``(II) Criteria.--The Secretary + shall use criteria established by the + Secretary in making any determination + under subclause (I). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 472]] + + ``(iii) <> Implementation.--The Secretary + shall establish the criteria under clause (ii)(II) + and any exceptions under clause (i)(II) through + the promulgation of a regulation which includes a + public notice and comment period. + ``(iv) Requirement for certain categories and + classes until criteria established.--Until such + time as the Secretary establishes the criteria + under clause (ii)(II) the following categories and + classes of drugs shall be identified under clause + (ii)(I): + ``(I) Anticonvulsants. + ``(II) Antidepressants. + ``(III) Antineoplastics. + ``(IV) Antipsychotics. + ``(V) Antiretrovirals. + ``(VI) Immunosuppressants for the + treatment of transplant rejection.''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to plan year 2011 and subsequent plan +years. + +SEC. 3308. REDUCING PART D PREMIUM SUBSIDY FOR HIGH-INCOME + BENEFICIARIES. + + (a) Income-Related Increase in Part D Premium.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1860D-13(a) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-113(a)) is amended by adding at the end the + following new paragraph: + ``(7) Increase in base beneficiary premium based on + income.-- + ``(A) In general.--In the case of an individual + whose modified adjusted gross income exceeds the + threshold amount applicable under paragraph (2) of + section 1839(i) (including application of paragraph (5) + of such section) for the calendar year, the monthly + amount of the beneficiary premium applicable under this + section for a month after December 2010 shall be + increased by the monthly adjustment amount specified in + subparagraph (B). + ``(B) Monthly adjustment amount.--The monthly + adjustment amount specified in this subparagraph for an + individual for a month in a year is equal to the product + of-- + ``(i) the quotient obtained by dividing-- + ``(I) the applicable percentage + determined under paragraph (3)(C) of + section 1839(i) (including application + of paragraph (5) of such section) for + the individual for the calendar year + reduced by 25.5 percent; by + ``(II) 25.5 percent; and + ``(ii) the base beneficiary premium (as + computed under paragraph (2)). + ``(C) Modified adjusted gross income.--For purposes + of this paragraph, the term `modified adjusted gross + income' has the meaning given such term in subparagraph + (A) of section 1839(i)(4), determined for the taxable + year applicable under subparagraphs (B) and (C) of such + section. + ``(D) Determination by commissioner of social + security.--The Commissioner of Social Security shall + make any determination necessary to carry out the + income- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 473]] + + related increase in the base beneficiary premium under + this paragraph. + ``(E) <> Procedures to assure + correct income-related increase in base beneficiary + premium.-- + ``(i) Disclosure of base beneficiary + premium.--Not later than September 15 of each year + beginning with 2010, the Secretary shall disclose + to the Commissioner of Social Security the amount + of the base beneficiary premium (as computed under + paragraph (2)) for the purpose of carrying out the + income-related increase in the base beneficiary + premium under this paragraph with respect to the + following year. + ``(ii) Additional disclosure.--Not later than + October 15 of each year beginning with 2010, the + Secretary shall disclose to the Commissioner of + Social Security the following information for the + purpose of carrying out the income-related + increase in the base beneficiary premium under + this paragraph with respect to the following year: + ``(I) The modified adjusted gross + income threshold applicable under + paragraph (2) of section 1839(i) + (including application of paragraph (5) + of such section). + ``(II) The applicable percentage + determined under paragraph (3)(C) of + section 1839(i) (including application + of paragraph (5) of such section). + ``(III) The monthly adjustment + amount specified in subparagraph (B). + ``(IV) Any other information the + Commissioner of Social Security + determines necessary to carry out the + income-related increase in the base + beneficiary premium under this + paragraph. + ``(F) Rule of construction.--The formula used to + determine the monthly adjustment amount specified under + subparagraph (B) shall only be used for the purpose of + determining such monthly adjustment amount under such + subparagraph.''. + (2) Collection of monthly adjustment amount.--Section 1860D- + 13(c) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-113(c)) is + amended-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking ``(2) and (3)'' + and inserting ``(2), (3), and (4)''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(4) Collection of monthly adjustment amount.-- + ``(A) In general.--Notwithstanding any provision of + this subsection or section 1854(d)(2), subject to + subparagraph (B), the amount of the income-related + increase in the base beneficiary premium for an + individual for a month (as determined under subsection + (a)(7)) shall be paid through withholding from benefit + payments in the manner provided under section 1840. + ``(B) Agreements.--In the case where the monthly + benefit payments of an individual that are withheld + under subparagraph (A) are insufficient to pay the + amount described in such subparagraph, the Commissioner + of Social Security shall enter into agreements with the + Secretary, the Director of the Office of Personnel + Management, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 474]] + + and the Railroad Retirement Board as necessary in order + to allow other agencies to collect the amount described + in subparagraph (A) that was not withheld under such + subparagraph.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendments.-- + (1) Medicare.--Section 1860D-13(a)(1) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-113(a)(1)) is amended-- + (A) by redesignating subparagraph (F) as + subparagraph (G); + (B) in subparagraph (G), as redesignated by + subparagraph (A), by striking ``(D) and (E)'' and + inserting ``(D), (E), and (F)''; and + (C) by inserting after subparagraph (E) the + following new subparagraph: + ``(F) Increase based on income.--The monthly + beneficiary premium shall be increased pursuant to + paragraph (7).''. + (2) <> Internal revenue code.--Section + 6103(l)(20) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (relating to + disclosure of return information to carry out Medicare part B + premium subsidy adjustment) is amended-- + (A) in the heading, by inserting ``and part d base + beneficiary premium increase'' after ``part b premium + subsidy adjustment''; + (B) in subparagraph (A)-- + (i) in the matter preceding clause (i), by + inserting ``or increase under section 1860D- + 13(a)(7)'' after ``1839(i)''; and + (ii) in clause (vii), by inserting after + ``subsection (i) of such section'' the following: + ``or increase under section 1860D-13(a)(7) of such + Act''; and + (C) in subparagraph (B)-- + (i) by striking ``Return information'' and + inserting the following: + ``(i) In general.--Return information''; + (ii) by inserting ``or increase under such + section 1860D-13(a)(7)'' before the period at the + end; + (iii) as amended by clause (i), by inserting + ``or for the purpose of resolving taxpayer appeals + with respect to any such premium adjustment or + increase'' before the period at the end; and + (iv) by adding at the end the following new + clause: + ``(ii) Disclosure to other agencies.-- + Officers, employees, and contractors of the Social + Security Administration may disclose-- + ``(I) the taxpayer identity + information and the amount of the + premium subsidy adjustment or premium + increase with respect to a taxpayer + described in subparagraph (A) to + officers, employees, and contractors of + the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid + Services, to the extent that such + disclosure is necessary for the + collection of the premium subsidy amount + or the increased premium amount, + ``(II) the taxpayer identity + information and the amount of the + premium subsidy adjustment or the + increased premium amount with respect to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 475]] + + a taxpayer described in subparagraph (A) + to officers and employees of the Office + of Personnel Management and the Railroad + Retirement Board, to the extent that + such disclosure is necessary for the + collection of the premium subsidy amount + or the increased premium amount, + ``(III) return information with + respect to a taxpayer described in + subparagraph (A) to officers and + employees of the Department of Health + and Human Services to the extent + necessary to resolve administrative + appeals of such premium subsidy + adjustment or increased premium, and + ``(IV) return information with + respect to a taxpayer described in + subparagraph (A) to officers and + employees of the Department of Justice + for use in judicial proceedings to the + extent necessary to carry out the + purposes described in clause (i).''. + +SEC. 3309. ELIMINATION OF COST SHARING FOR CERTAIN DUAL ELIGIBLE + INDIVIDUALS. + + Section 1860D-14(a)(1)(D)(i) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395w-114(a)(1)(D)(i)) is amended by inserting ``or, effective on a date +specified by the Secretary (but in no case earlier than January 1, +2012), who would be such an institutionalized individual or couple, if +the full-benefit dual eligible individual were not receiving services +under a home and community-based waiver authorized for a State under +section 1115 or subsection (c) or (d) of section 1915 or under a State +plan amendment under subsection (i) of such section or services provided +through enrollment in a medicaid managed care organization with a +contract under section 1903(m) or under section 1932'' after +``1902(q)(1)(B))''. + +SEC. 3310. REDUCING WASTEFUL DISPENSING OF OUTPATIENT PRESCRIPTION DRUGS + IN LONG-TERM CARE FACILITIES UNDER PRESCRIPTION DRUG PLANS + AND MA-PD PLANS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1860D-4(c) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395w-104(c)) is amended by adding at the end the following new +paragraph: + ``(3) Reducing wasteful dispensing of outpatient + prescription drugs in long-term care facilities.--The Secretary + shall require PDP sponsors of prescription drug plans to utilize + specific, uniform dispensing techniques, as determined by the + Secretary, in consultation with relevant stakeholders (including + representatives of nursing facilities, residents of nursing + facilities, pharmacists, the pharmacy industry (including retail + and long-term care pharmacy), prescription drug plans, MA-PD + plans, and any other stakeholders the Secretary determines + appropriate), such as weekly, daily, or automated dose + dispensing, when dispensing covered part D drugs to enrollees + who reside in a long-term care facility in order to reduce waste + associated with 30-day fills.''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment +made by subsection (a) shall apply to plan years beginning on or after +January 1, 2012. + +SEC. 3311. <> IMPROVED MEDICARE PRESCRIPTION + DRUG PLAN AND MA-PD PLAN COMPLAINT SYSTEM. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary shall develop and maintain a +complaint system, that is widely known and easy to use, to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 476]] + +collect and maintain information on MA-PD plan and prescription drug +plan complaints that are received (including by telephone, letter, e- +mail, or any other means) by the Secretary (including by a regional +office of the Department of Health and Human Services, the Medicare +Beneficiary Ombudsman, a subcontractor, a carrier, a fiscal +intermediary, and a Medicare administrative contractor under section +1874A of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395kk)) through the date on +which the complaint is resolved. The system shall be able to report and +initiate appropriate interventions and monitoring based on substantial +complaints and to guide quality improvement. + (b) Model Electronic Complaint Form.--The Secretary shall develop a +model electronic complaint form to be used for reporting plan complaints +under the system. Such form shall be prominently displayed on the front +page of the Medicare.gov Internet website and on the Internet website of +the Medicare Beneficiary Ombudsman. + (c) Annual Reports by the Secretary.--The Secretary shall submit to +Congress annual reports on the system. Such reports shall include an +analysis of the number and types of complaints reported in the system, +geographic variations in such complaints, the timeliness of agency or +plan responses to such complaints, and the resolution of such +complaints. + (d) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) MA-PD plan.--The term ``MA-PD plan'' has the meaning + given such term in section 1860D-41(a)(9) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395w-151(a)(9)). + (2) Prescription drug plan.--The term ``prescription drug + plan'' has the meaning given such term in section 1860D- + 41(a)(14) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-151(a)(14)). + (3) Secretary.--The term ``Secretary'' means the Secretary + of Health and Human Services. + (4) System.--The term ``system'' means the plan complaint + system developed and maintained under subsection (a). + +SEC. 3312. UNIFORM EXCEPTIONS AND APPEALS PROCESS FOR PRESCRIPTION DRUG + PLANS AND MA-PD PLANS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1860D-4(b)(3) of the Social Security Act +(42 U.S.C. 1395w-104(b)(3)) is amended by adding at the end the +following new subparagraph: + ``(H) Use of single, uniform exceptions and appeals + process.--Notwithstanding any other provision of this + part, each PDP sponsor of a prescription drug plan + shall-- + ``(i) use a single, uniform exceptions and + appeals process (including, to the extent the + Secretary determines feasible, a single, uniform + model form for use under such process) with + respect to the determination of prescription drug + coverage for an enrollee under the plan; and + ``(ii) provide instant access to such process + by enrollees through a toll-free telephone number + and an Internet website.''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment +made by subsection (a) shall apply to exceptions and appeals on or after +January 1, 2012. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 477]] + +SEC. 3313. <> OFFICE OF THE INSPECTOR + GENERAL STUDIES AND REPORTS. + + (a) Study and Annual Report on Part D Formularies' Inclusion of +Drugs Commonly Used by Dual Eligibles.-- + (1) Study.--The Inspector General of the Department of + Health and Human Services shall conduct a study of the extent to + which formularies used by prescription drug plans and MA-PD + plans under part D include drugs commonly used by full-benefit + dual eligible individuals (as defined in section 1935(c)(6) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396u-5(c)(6))). + (2) Annual reports.--Not later than July 1 of each year + (beginning with 2011), the Inspector General shall submit to + Congress a report on the study conducted under paragraph (1), + together with such recommendations as the Inspector General + determines appropriate. + + (b) Study and Report on Prescription Drug Prices Under Medicare Part +D and Medicaid.-- + (1) Study.-- + (A) In general.--The Inspector General of the + Department of Health and Human Services shall conduct a + study on prices for covered part D drugs under the + Medicare prescription drug program under part D of title + XVIII of the Social Security Act and for covered + outpatient drugs under title XIX. Such study shall + include the following: + (i) A comparison, with respect to the 200 most + frequently dispensed covered part D drugs under + such program and covered outpatient drugs under + such title (as determined by the Inspector General + based on volume and expenditures), of-- + (I) the prices paid for covered part + D drugs by PDP sponsors of prescription + drug plans and Medicare Advantage + organizations offering MA-PD plans; and + (II) the prices paid for covered + outpatient drugs by a State plan under + title XIX. + (ii) An assessment of-- + (I) the financial impact of any + discrepancies in such prices on the + Federal Government; and + (II) the financial impact of any + such discrepancies on enrollees under + part D or individuals eligible for + medical assistance under a State plan + under title XIX. + (B) Price.--For purposes of subparagraph (A), the + price of a covered part D drug or a covered outpatient + drug shall include any rebate or discount under such + program or such title, respectively, including any + negotiated price concession described in section 1860D- + 2(d)(1)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- + 102(d)(1)(B)) or rebate under an agreement under section + 1927 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-8). + (C) Authority to collect any necessary + information.--Notwithstanding any other provision of + law, the Inspector General of the Department of Health + and Human Services shall be able to collect any + information related to the prices of covered part D + drugs under such program + +[[Page 124 STAT. 478]] + + and covered outpatient drugs under such title XIX + necessary to carry out the comparison under subparagraph + (A). + (2) Report.-- + (A) In general.--Not later than October 1, 2011, + subject to subparagraph (B), the Inspector General shall + submit to Congress a report containing the results of + the study conducted under paragraph (1), together with + recommendations for such legislation and administrative + action as the Inspector General determines appropriate. + (B) Limitation on information contained in report.-- + The report submitted under subparagraph (A) shall not + include any information that the Inspector General + determines is proprietary or is likely to negatively + impact the ability of a PDP sponsor or a State plan + under title XIX to negotiate prices for covered part D + drugs or covered outpatient drugs, respectively. + (3) Definitions.--In this section: + (A) Covered part d drug.--The term ``covered part D + drug'' has the meaning given such term in section 1860D- + 2(e) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- + 102(e)). + (B) Covered outpatient drug.--The term ``covered + outpatient drug'' has the meaning given such term in + section 1927(k) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(k)). + (C) MA-PD plan.--The term ``MA-PD plan'' has the + meaning given such term in section 1860D-41(a)(9) of + such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-151(a)(9)). + (D) Medicare advantage organization.--The term + ``Medicare Advantage organization'' has the meaning + given such term in section 1859(a)(1) of such Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395w-28)(a)(1)). + (E) PDP sponsor.--The term ``PDP sponsor'' has the + meaning given such term in section 1860D-41(a)(13) of + such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-151(a)(13)). + (F) Prescription drug plan.--The term ``prescription + drug plan'' has the meaning given such term in section + 1860D-41(a)(14) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- + 151(a)(14)). + +SEC. 3314. INCLUDING COSTS INCURRED BY AIDS DRUG ASSISTANCE PROGRAMS AND + INDIAN HEALTH SERVICE IN PROVIDING PRESCRIPTION DRUGS TOWARD + THE ANNUAL OUT-OF-POCKET THRESHOLD UNDER PART D. + + (a) In General.--Section 1860D-2(b)(4)(C) of the Social Security Act +(42 U.S.C. 1395w-102(b)(4)(C)) is amended-- + (1) in clause (i), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) in clause (ii)-- + (A) by striking ``such costs shall be treated as + incurred only if'' and inserting ``subject to clause + (iii), such costs shall be treated as incurred only + if''; + (B) by striking ``, under section 1860D-14, or under + a State Pharmaceutical Assistance Program''; and + (C) by striking the period at the end and inserting + ``; and''; and + (3) by inserting after clause (ii) the following new clause: + ``(iii) such costs shall be treated as + incurred and shall not be considered to be + reimbursed under clause (ii) if such costs are + borne or paid-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 479]] + + ``(I) under section 1860D-14; + ``(II) under a State Pharmaceutical + Assistance Program; + ``(III) by the Indian Health + Service, an Indian tribe or tribal + organization, or an urban Indian + organization (as defined in section 4 of + the Indian Health Care Improvement Act); + or + ``(IV) under an AIDS Drug Assistance + Program under part B of title XXVI of + the Public Health Service Act.''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by subsection (a) shall apply to costs incurred on or after January +1, 2011. + +SEC. 3315. IMMEDIATE REDUCTION IN COVERAGE GAP IN 2010. + + Section 1860D-2(b) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- +102(b)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (3)(A), by striking ``paragraph (4)'' and + inserting ``paragraphs (4) and (7)''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(7) Increase in initial coverage limit in 2010.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--For + the plan year beginning on January 1, 2010, the initial + coverage limit described in paragraph (3)(B) otherwise + applicable shall be increased by $500. + ``(B) Application.--In applying subparagraph (A)-- + ``(i) except as otherwise provided in this + subparagraph, there shall be no change in the + premiums, bids, or any other parameters under this + part or part C; + ``(ii) costs that would be treated as incurred + costs for purposes of applying paragraph (4) but + for the application of subparagraph (A) shall + continue to be treated as incurred costs; + ``(iii) <> the Secretary + shall establish procedures, which may include a + reconciliation process, to fully reimburse PDP + sponsors with respect to prescription drug plans + and MA organizations with respect to MA-PD plans + for the reduction in beneficiary cost sharing + associated with the application of subparagraph + (A); + ``(iv) the Secretary shall develop an estimate + of the additional increased costs attributable to + the application of this paragraph for increased + drug utilization and financing and administrative + costs and shall use such estimate to adjust + payments to PDP sponsors with respect to + prescription drug plans under this part and MA + organizations with respect to MA-PD plans under + part C; and + ``(v) <> the Secretary + shall establish procedures for retroactive + reimbursement of part D eligible individuals who + are covered under such a plan for costs which are + incurred before the date of initial implementation + of subparagraph (A) and which would be reimbursed + under such a plan if such implementation occurred + as of January 1, 2010. + ``(C) <> No + effect on subsequent years.--The increase under + subparagraph (A) shall only apply with respect to the + plan year beginning on January 1, 2010, and the initial + coverage limit for plan years beginning on or after + January + +[[Page 124 STAT. 480]] + + 1, 2011, shall be determined as if subparagraph (A) had + never applied.''. + + Subtitle E--Ensuring Medicare Sustainability + +SEC. 3401. REVISION OF CERTAIN MARKET BASKET UPDATES AND INCORPORATION + OF PRODUCTIVITY IMPROVEMENTS INTO MARKET BASKET UPDATES THAT + DO NOT ALREADY INCORPORATE SUCH IMPROVEMENTS. + + (a) Inpatient Acute Hospitals.--Section 1886(b)(3)(B) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(b)(3)(B)), as amended by section +3001(a)(3), is further amended-- + (1) in clause (i)(XX), by striking ``clause (viii)'' and + inserting ``clauses (viii), (ix), (xi), and (xii)''; + (2) in the first sentence of clause (viii), by inserting + ``of such applicable percentage increase (determined without + regard to clause (ix), (xi), or (xii))'' after ``one-quarter''; + (3) in the first sentence of clause (ix)(I), by inserting + ``(determined without regard to clause (viii), (xi), or (xii))'' + after ``clause (i)'' the second time it appears; and + (4) by adding at the end the following new clauses: + + ``(xi)(I) For 2012 and each subsequent fiscal year, after +determining the applicable percentage increase described in clause (i) +and after application of clauses (viii) and (ix), such percentage +increase shall be reduced by the productivity adjustment described in +subclause (II). + ``(II) The productivity adjustment described in this subclause, with +respect to a percentage, factor, or update for a fiscal year, year, cost +reporting period, or other annual period, is a productivity adjustment +equal to the 10-year moving average of changes in annual economy-wide +private nonfarm business multi-factor productivity (as projected by the +Secretary for the 10-year period ending with the applicable fiscal year, +year, cost reporting period, or other annual period). + ``(III) The application of subclause (I) may result in the +applicable percentage increase described in clause (i) being less than +0.0 for a fiscal year, and may result in payment rates under this +section for a fiscal year being less than such payment rates for the +preceding fiscal year. + ``(xii) After determining the applicable percentage increase +described in clause (i), and after application of clauses (viii), (ix), +and (xi), the Secretary shall reduce such applicable percentage +increase-- + ``(I) for each of fiscal years 2010 and 2011, by 0.25 + percentage point; and + ``(II) subject to clause (xiii), for each of fiscal years + 2012 through 2019, by 0.2 percentage point. + +The application of this clause may result in the applicable percentage +increase described in clause (i) being less than 0.0 for a fiscal year, +and may result in payment rates under this section for a fiscal year +being less than such payment rates for the preceding fiscal year. + ``(xiii) <> Clause (xii) shall be applied with +respect to any of fiscal years 2014 through 2019 by substituting `0.0 +percentage points' for `0.2 percentage point', if for such fiscal year-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 481]] + + ``(I) the excess (if any) of-- + ``(aa) the total percentage of the non-elderly + insured population for the preceding fiscal year (based + on the most recent estimates available from the Director + of the Congressional Budget Office before a vote in + either House on the Patient Protection and Affordable + Care Act that, if determined in the affirmative, would + clear such Act for enrollment); over + ``(bb) the total percentage of the non-elderly + insured population for such preceding fiscal year (as + estimated by the Secretary); exceeds + ``(II) 5 percentage points.''. + + (b) Skilled Nursing Facilities.--Section 1888(e)(5)(B) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395yy(e)(5)(B)) is amended-- + (1) by striking ``percentage.--The term'' and inserting + ``percentage.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), the + term''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(ii) Adjustment.--For fiscal year 2012 and + each subsequent fiscal year, after determining the + percentage described in clause (i), the Secretary + shall reduce such percentage by the productivity + adjustment described in section + 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II). The application of the + preceding sentence may result in such percentage + being less than 0.0 for a fiscal year, and may + result in payment rates under this subsection for + a fiscal year being less than such payment rates + for the preceding fiscal year.''. + + (c) Long-term Care Hospitals.--Section 1886(m) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(m)) is amended by adding at the end the +following new paragraphs: + ``(3) Implementation for rate year 2010 and subsequent + years.-- + ``(A) In general.--In implementing the system + described in paragraph (1) for rate year 2010 and each + subsequent rate year, any annual update to a standard + Federal rate for discharges for the hospital during the + rate year, shall be reduced-- + ``(i) for rate year 2012 and each subsequent + rate year, by the productivity adjustment + described in section 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II); and + ``(ii) for each of rate years 2010 through + 2019, by the other adjustment described in + paragraph (4). + ``(B) Special rule.--The application of this + paragraph may result in such annual update being less + than 0.0 for a rate year, and may result in payment + rates under the system described in paragraph (1) for a + rate year being less than such payment rates for the + preceding rate year. + ``(4) Other adjustment.-- + ``(A) In general.--For purposes of paragraph + (3)(A)(ii), the other adjustment described in this + paragraph is-- + ``(i) for each of rate years 2010 and 2011, + 0.25 percentage point; and + ``(ii) subject to subparagraph (B), for each + of rate years 2012 through 2019, 0.2 percentage + point. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 482]] + + ``(B) Reduction of other adjustment.--Subparagraph + (A)(ii) shall be applied with respect to any of rate + years 2014 through 2019 by substituting `0.0 percentage + points' for `0.2 percentage point', if for such rate + year-- + ``(i) the excess (if any) of-- + ``(I) the total percentage of the + non-elderly insured population for the + preceding rate year (based on the most + recent estimates available from the + Director of the Congressional Budget + Office before a vote in either House on + the Patient Protection and Affordable + Care Act that, if determined in the + affirmative, would clear such Act for + enrollment); over + ``(II) the total percentage of the + non-elderly insured population for such + preceding rate year (as estimated by the + Secretary); exceeds + ``(ii) 5 percentage points.''. + + (d) Inpatient Rehabilitation Facilities.--Section 1886(j)(3) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(j)(3)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (C)-- + (A) by striking ``factor.--For purposes'' and + inserting ``factor.-- + ``(i) In general.--For purposes''; + (B) by inserting ``subject to clause (ii)'' before + the period at the end of the first sentence of clause + (i), as added by paragraph (1); and + (C) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(ii) Productivity and other adjustment.-- + After establishing the increase factor described + in clause (i) for a fiscal year, the Secretary + shall reduce such increase factor-- + ``(I) for fiscal year 2012 and each + subsequent fiscal year, by the + productivity adjustment described in + section 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II); and + ``(II) for each of fiscal years 2010 + through 2019, by the other adjustment + described in subparagraph (D). + The application of this clause may result in the + increase factor under this subparagraph being less + than 0.0 for a fiscal year, and may result in + payment rates under this subsection for a fiscal + year being less than such payment rates for the + preceding fiscal year.''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(D) Other adjustment.-- + ``(i) In general.--For purposes of + subparagraph (C)(ii)(II), the other adjustment + described in this subparagraph is-- + ``(I) for each of fiscal years 2010 + and 2011, 0.25 percentage point; and + ``(II) subject to clause (ii), for + each of fiscal years 2012 through 2019, + 0.2 percentage point. + ``(ii) <> Reduction of + other adjustment.--Clause (i)(II) shall be applied + with respect to any of fiscal years 2014 through + 2019 by substituting `0.0 percentage points' for + `0.2 percentage point', if for such fiscal year-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 483]] + + ``(I) the excess (if any) of-- + ``(aa) the total percentage + of the non-elderly insured + population for the preceding + fiscal year (based on the most + recent estimates available from + the Director of the + Congressional Budget Office + before a vote in either House on + the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act that, if + determined in the affirmative, + would clear such Act for + enrollment); over + ``(bb) the total percentage + of the non-elderly insured + population for such preceding + fiscal year (as estimated by the + Secretary); exceeds + ``(II) 5 percentage points.''. + + (e) Home Health Agencies.--Section 1895(b)(3)(B) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395fff(b)(3)(B)) is amended-- + (1) in clause (ii)(V), by striking ``clause (v)'' and + inserting ``clauses (v) and (vi)''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(vi) Adjustments.--After determining the + home health market basket percentage increase + under clause (iii), and after application of + clause (v), the Secretary shall reduce such + percentage-- + ``(I) for 2015 and each subsequent + year, by the productivity adjustment + described in section + 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II); and + ``(II) for each of 2011 and 2012, by + 1 percentage point. + The application of this clause may result in the + home health market basket percentage increase + under clause (iii) being less than 0.0 for a year, + and may result in payment rates under the system + under this subsection for a year being less than + such payment rates for the preceding year.''. + + (f) Psychiatric Hospitals.--Section 1886 of the Social Security +Act, <> as amended by sections 3001, 3008, 3025, +and 3133, is amended by adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(s) Prospective Payment for Psychiatric Hospitals.-- + ``(1) Reference to establishment and implementation of + system.--For provisions related to the establishment and + implementation of a prospective payment system for payments + under this title for inpatient hospital services furnished by + psychiatric hospitals (as described in clause (i) of subsection + (d)(1)(B)) and psychiatric units (as described in the matter + following clause (v) of such subsection), see section 124 of the + Medicare, Medicaid, and SCHIP Balanced Budget Refinement Act of + 1999. + ``(2) Implementation for rate year beginning in 2010 and + subsequent rate years.-- + ``(A) In general.--In implementing the system + described in paragraph (1) for the rate year beginning + in 2010 and any subsequent rate year, any update to a + base rate for days during the rate year for a + psychiatric hospital or unit, respectively, shall be + reduced-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 484]] + + ``(i) for the rate year beginning in 2012 and + each subsequent rate year, by the productivity + adjustment described in section + 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II); and + ``(ii) for each of the rate years beginning in + 2010 through 2019, by the other adjustment + described in paragraph (3). + ``(B) Special rule.--The application of this + paragraph may result in such update being less than 0.0 + for a rate year, and may result in payment rates under + the system described in paragraph (1) for a rate year + being less than such payment rates for the preceding + rate year. + ``(3) Other adjustment.-- + ``(A) In general.--For purposes of paragraph + (2)(A)(ii), the other adjustment described in this + paragraph is-- + ``(i) for each of the rate years beginning in + 2010 and 2011, 0.25 percentage point; and + ``(ii) subject to subparagraph (B), for each + of the rate years beginning in 2012 through 2019, + 0.2 percentage point. + ``(B) Reduction of other adjustment.--Subparagraph + (A)(ii) shall be applied with respect to any of rate + years 2014 through 2019 by substituting `0.0 percentage + points' for `0.2 percentage point', if for such rate + year-- + ``(i) the excess (if any) of-- + ``(I) the total percentage of the + non-elderly insured population for the + preceding rate year (based on the most + recent estimates available from the + Director of the Congressional Budget + Office before a vote in either House on + the Patient Protection and Affordable + Care Act that, if determined in the + affirmative, would clear such Act for + enrollment); over + ``(II) the total percentage of the + non-elderly insured population for such + preceding rate year (as estimated by the + Secretary); exceeds + ``(ii) 5 percentage points.''. + + (g) Hospice Care.--Section 1814(i)(1)(C) of the Social Security Act +(42 U.S.C. 1395f(i)(1)(C)), as amended by section 3132, is amended by +adding at the end the following new clauses: + ``(iv) After determining the market basket percentage increase under +clause (ii)(VII) or (iii), as applicable, with respect to fiscal year +2013 and each subsequent fiscal year, the Secretary shall reduce such +percentage-- + ``(I) for 2013 and each subsequent fiscal year, by the + productivity adjustment described in section + 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II); and + ``(II) subject to clause (v), for each of fiscal years 2013 + through 2019, by 0.5 percentage point. + +The application of this clause may result in the market basket +percentage increase under clause (ii)(VII) or (iii), as applicable, +being less than 0.0 for a fiscal year, and may result in payment rates +under this subsection for a fiscal year being less than such payment +rates for the preceding fiscal year. + ``(v) <> Clause (iv)(II) shall be applied with +respect to any of fiscal years 2014 through 2019 by substituting `0.0 +percentage points' for `0.5 percentage point', if for such fiscal year-- + ``(I) the excess (if any) of-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 485]] + + ``(aa) the total percentage of the non-elderly + insured population for the preceding fiscal year (based + on the most recent estimates available from the Director + of the Congressional Budget Office before a vote in + either House on the Patient Protection and Affordable + Care Act that, if determined in the affirmative, would + clear such Act for enrollment); over + ``(bb) the total percentage of the non-elderly + insured population for such preceding fiscal year (as + estimated by the Secretary); exceeds + ``(II) 5 percentage points.''. + + (h) Dialysis.--Section 1881(b)(14)(F) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395rr(b)(14)(F)) is amended-- + (1) in clause (i)-- + (A) by inserting ``(I)'' after ``(F)(i)'' + (B) in subclause (I), as inserted by subparagraph + (A)-- + (i) by striking ``clause (ii)'' and inserting + ``subclause (II) and clause (ii)''; and + (ii) by striking ``minus 1.0 percentage + point''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + subclause: + + ``(II) For 2012 and each subsequent year, after determining the +increase factor described in subclause (I), the Secretary shall reduce +such increase factor by the productivity adjustment described in section +1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II). The application of the preceding sentence may +result in such increase factor being less than 0.0 for a year, and may +result in payment rates under the payment system under this paragraph +for a year being less than such payment rates for the preceding year.''; +and + (2) in clause (ii)(II)-- + (A) by striking ``The'' and inserting ``Subject to + clause (i)(II), the''; and + (B) by striking ``clause (i) minus 1.0 percentage + point'' and inserting ``clause (i)(I)''. + + (i) Outpatient Hospitals.--Section 1833(t)(3) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(t)(3)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (C)(iv), by inserting ``and subparagraph + (F) of this paragraph'' after ``(17)''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subparagraphs: + ``(F) Productivity and other adjustment.--After + determining the OPD fee schedule increase factor under + subparagraph (C)(iv), the Secretary shall reduce such + increase factor-- + ``(i) for 2012 and subsequent years, by the + productivity adjustment described in section + 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II); and + ``(ii) for each of 2010 through 2019, by the + adjustment described in subparagraph (G). + The application of this subparagraph may result in the + increase factor under subparagraph (C)(iv) being less + than 0.0 for a year, and may result in payment rates + under the payment system under this subsection for a + year being less than such payment rates for the + preceding year. + ``(G) Other adjustment.-- + ``(i) Adjustment.--For purposes of + subparagraph (F)(ii), the adjustment described in + this subparagraph is-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 486]] + + ``(I) for each of 2010 and 2011, + 0.25 percentage point; and + ``(II) subject to clause (ii), for + each of 2012 through 2019, 0.2 + percentage point. + ``(ii) Reduction of other adjustment.--Clause + (i)(II) shall be applied with respect to any of + 2014 through 2019 by substituting `0.0 percentage + points' for `0.2 percentage point', if for such + year-- + ``(I) the excess (if any) of-- + ``(aa) the total percentage + of the non-elderly insured + population for the preceding + year (based on the most recent + estimates available from the + Director of the Congressional + Budget Office before a vote in + either House on the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care + Act that, if determined in the + affirmative, would clear such + Act for enrollment); over + ``(bb) the total percentage + of the non-elderly insured + population for such preceding + year (as estimated by the + Secretary); exceeds + ``(II) 5 percentage points.''. + + (j) Ambulance Services.--Section 1834(l)(3) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(l)(3)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) in subparagraph (B)-- + (A) by inserting ``, subject to subparagraph (C) and + the succeeding sentence of this paragraph,'' after + ``increased''; and + (B) by striking the period at the end and inserting + ``; and''; + (3) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(C) for 2011 and each subsequent year, after + determining the percentage increase under subparagraph + (B) for the year, reduce such percentage increase by the + productivity adjustment described in section + 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II).''; and + (4) by adding at the end the following flush sentence: + ``The application of subparagraph (C) may result in the + percentage increase under subparagraph (B) being less than 0.0 + for a year, and may result in payment rates under the fee + schedule under this subsection for a year being less than such + payment rates for the preceding year.''. + + (k) Ambulatory Surgical Center Services.--Section 1833(i)(2)(D) of +the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(i)(2)(D)) is amended-- + (1) by redesignating clause (v) as clause (vi); and + (2) by inserting after clause (iv) the following new clause: + ``(v) In implementing the system described in + clause (i) for 2011 and each subsequent year, any + annual update under such system for the year, + after application of clause (iv), shall be reduced + by the productivity adjustment described in + section 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II). The application of + the preceding sentence may result in such update + being less than 0.0 for a year, and may result in + payment rates under the system described in clause + (i) for a year being less than such payment rates + for the preceding year.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 487]] + + (l) Laboratory Services.--Section 1833(h)(2)(A) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(h)(2)(A)) is amended-- + (1) in clause (i)-- + (A) by inserting ``, subject to clause (iv),'' after + ``year) by''; and + (B) by striking ``through 2013'' and inserting ``and + 2010''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(iv) After determining the adjustment to the + fee schedules under clause (i), the Secretary + shall reduce such adjustment-- + ``(I) for 2011 and each subsequent + year, by the productivity adjustment + described in section + 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II); and + ``(II) for each of 2011 through + 2015, by 1.75 percentage points. + Subclause (I) shall not apply in a year where the + adjustment to the fee schedules determined under + clause (i) is 0.0 or a percentage decrease for a + year. The application of the productivity + adjustment under subclause (I) shall not result in + an adjustment to the fee schedules under clause + (i) being less than 0.0 for a year. The + application of subclause (II) may result in an + adjustment to the fee schedules under clause (i) + being less than 0.0 for a year, and may result in + payment rates for a year being less than such + payment rates for the preceding year.''. + + (m) Certain Durable Medical Equipment.--Section 1834(a)(14) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(a)(14)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (K)-- + (A) by striking ``2011, 2012, and 2013,''; and + (B) by inserting ``and'' after the semicolon at the + end; + (2) by striking subparagraphs (L) and (M) and inserting the + following new subparagraph: + ``(L) for 2011 and each subsequent year-- + ``(i) the percentage increase in the consumer + price index for all urban consumers (United States + city average) for the 12-month period ending with + June of the previous year, reduced by-- + ``(ii) the productivity adjustment described + in section 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II).''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following flush sentence: + ``The application of subparagraph (L)(ii) may result in the + covered item update under this paragraph being less than 0.0 for + a year, and may result in payment rates under this subsection + for a year being less than such payment rates for the preceding + year.''. + + (n) Prosthetic Devices, Orthotics, and Prosthetics.--Section +1834(h)(4) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(h)(4)) is +amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A)-- + (A) in clause (ix), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (B) in clause (x)-- + (i) by striking ``a subsequent year'' and + inserting ``for each of 2007 through 2010''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 488]] + + (ii) by inserting ``and'' after the semicolon + at the end; + (C) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(xi) for 2011 and each subsequent year-- + ``(I) the percentage increase in the + consumer price index for all urban + consumers (United States city average) + for the 12-month period ending with June + of the previous year, reduced by-- + ``(II) the productivity adjustment + described in section + 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II).''; and + (D) by adding at the end the following flush + sentence: + ``The application of subparagraph (A)(xi)(II) may result in the + applicable percentage increase under subparagraph (A) being less + than 0.0 for a year, and may result in payment rates under this + subsection for a year being less than such payment rates for the + preceding year.''. + + (o) Other Items.--Section 1842(s)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395u(s)(1)) is amended-- + (1) in the first sentence, by striking ``Subject to'' and + inserting ``(A) Subject to''; + (2) by striking the second sentence and inserting the + following new subparagraph: + ``(B) Any fee schedule established under this + paragraph for such item or service shall be updated-- + ``(i) for years before 2011-- + ``(I) subject to subclause (II), by + the percentage increase in the consumer + price index for all urban consumers + (United States city average) for the 12- + month period ending with June of the + preceding year; and + ``(II) for items and services + described in paragraph (2)(D) for 2009, + section 1834(a)(14)(J) shall apply under + this paragraph instead of the percentage + increase otherwise applicable; and + ``(ii) for 2011 and subsequent years-- + ``(I) the percentage increase in the + consumer price index for all urban + consumers (United States city average) + for the 12-month period ending with June + of the previous year, reduced by-- + ``(II) the productivity adjustment + described in section + 1886(b)(3)(B)(xi)(II).''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following flush sentence: + ``The application of subparagraph (B)(ii)(II) may result in the + update under this paragraph being less than 0.0 for a year, and + may result in payment rates under any fee schedule established + under this paragraph for a year being less than such payment + rates for the preceding year.''. + + (p) <> No Application Prior to April 1, +2010.--Notwithstanding the preceding provisions of this section, the +amendments made by subsections (a), (c), and (d) shall not apply to +discharges occurring before April 1, 2010. + +SEC. 3402. TEMPORARY ADJUSTMENT TO THE CALCULATION OF PART B PREMIUMS. + + Section 1839(i) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395r(i)) is +amended-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 489]] + + (1) in paragraph (2), in the matter preceding subparagraph + (A), by inserting ``subject to paragraph (6),'' after + ``subsection,''; + (2) in paragraph (3)(A)(i), by striking ``The applicable'' + and inserting ``Subject to paragraph (6), the applicable''; + (3) by redesignating paragraph (6) as paragraph (7); and + (4) by inserting after paragraph (5) the following new + paragraph: + ``(6) <> Temporary adjustment to income + thresholds.--Notwithstanding any other provision of this + subsection, during the period beginning on January 1, 2011, and + ending on December 31, 2019-- + ``(A) the threshold amount otherwise applicable + under paragraph (2) shall be equal to such amount for + 2010; and + ``(B) the dollar amounts otherwise applicable under + paragraph (3)(C)(i) shall be equal to such dollar + amounts for 2010.''. + +SEC. 3403. INDEPENDENT MEDICARE ADVISORY BOARD. + + (a) Board.-- + (1) In general.--Title XVIII of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395 et seq.), as amended by section 3022, is amended by + adding at the end the following new section: + + + ``independent medicare advisory board + + + ``Sec. 1899A. <> (a) Establishment.--There +is established an independent board to be known as the `Independent +Medicare Advisory Board'. + + ``(b) Purpose.--It is the purpose of this section to, in accordance +with the following provisions of this section, reduce the per capita +rate of growth in Medicare spending-- + ``(1) by requiring the Chief Actuary of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services to determine in each year to which + this section applies (in this section referred to as `a + determination year') the projected per capita growth rate under + Medicare for the second year following the determination year + (in this section referred to as `an implementation year'); + ``(2) if the projection for the implementation year exceeds + the target growth rate for that year, by requiring the Board to + develop and submit during the first year following the + determination year (in this section referred to as `a proposal + year') a proposal containing recommendations to reduce the + Medicare per capita growth rate to the extent required by this + section; and + ``(3) by requiring the Secretary to implement such proposals + unless Congress enacts legislation pursuant to this section. + + ``(c) Board Proposals.-- + ``(1) Development.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Board shall develop detailed + and specific proposals related to the Medicare program + in accordance with the succeeding provisions of this + section. + ``(B) Advisory reports.--Beginning January 15, 2014, + the Board may develop and submit to Congress advisory + reports on matters related to the Medicare program, + regardless of whether or not the Board submitted a + proposal for such year. Such a report may, for years + prior to 2020, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 490]] + + include recommendations regarding improvements to + payment systems for providers of services and suppliers + who are not otherwise subject to the scope of the + Board's recommendations in a proposal under this + section. Any advisory report submitted under this + subparagraph shall not be subject to the rules for + congressional consideration under subsection (d). + ``(2) Proposals.-- + ``(A) Requirements.--Each proposal submitted under + this section in a proposal year shall meet each of the + following requirements: + ``(i) If the Chief Actuary of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services has made a + determination under paragraph (7)(A) in the + determination year, the proposal shall include + recommendations so that the proposal as a whole + (after taking into account recommendations under + clause (v)) will result in a net reduction in + total Medicare program spending in the + implementation year that is at least equal to the + applicable savings target established under + paragraph (7)(B) for such implementation year. In + determining whether a proposal meets the + requirement of the preceding sentence, reductions + in Medicare program spending during the 3-month + period immediately preceding the implementation + year shall be counted to the extent that such + reductions are a result of the implementation of + recommendations contained in the proposal for a + change in the payment rate for an item or service + that was effective during such period pursuant to + subsection (e)(2)(A). + ``(ii) The proposal shall not include any + recommendation to ration health care, raise + revenues or Medicare beneficiary premiums under + section 1818, 1818A, or 1839, increase Medicare + beneficiary cost-sharing (including deductibles, + coinsurance, and copayments), or otherwise + restrict benefits or modify eligibility criteria. + ``(iii) In the case of proposals submitted + prior to December 31, 2018, the proposal shall not + include any recommendation that would reduce + payment rates for items and services furnished, + prior to December 31, 2019, by providers of + services (as defined in section 1861(u)) and + suppliers (as defined in section 1861(d)) + scheduled, pursuant to the amendments made by + section 3401 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act, to receive a reduction to the + inflationary payment updates of such providers of + services and suppliers in excess of a reduction + due to productivity in a year in which such + recommendations would take effect. + ``(iv) As appropriate, the proposal shall + include recommendations to reduce Medicare + payments under parts C and D, such as reductions + in direct subsidy payments to Medicare Advantage + and prescription drug plans specified under + paragraph (1) and (2) of section 1860D-15(a) that + are related to administrative expenses (including + profits) for basic coverage, denying high bids or + removing high bids for prescription drug + +[[Page 124 STAT. 491]] + + coverage from the calculation of the national + average monthly bid amount under section 1860D- + 13(a)(4), and reductions in payments to Medicare + Advantage plans under clauses (i) and (ii) of + section 1853(a)(1)(B) that are related to + administrative expenses (including profits) and + performance bonuses for Medicare Advantage plans + under section 1853(n). Any such recommendation + shall not affect the base beneficiary premium + percentage specified under 1860D-13(a). + ``(v) The proposal shall include + recommendations with respect to administrative + funding for the Secretary to carry out the + recommendations contained in the proposal. + ``(vi) The proposal shall only include + recommendations related to the Medicare program. + ``(B) Additional considerations.--In developing and + submitting each proposal under this section in a + proposal year, the Board shall, to the extent feasible-- + ``(i) give priority to recommendations that + extend Medicare solvency; + ``(ii) include recommendations that-- + ``(I) improve the health care + delivery system and health outcomes, + including by promoting integrated care, + care coordination, prevention and + wellness, and quality and efficiency + improvement; and + ``(II) protect and improve Medicare + beneficiaries' access to necessary and + evidence-based items and services, + including in rural and frontier areas; + ``(iii) include recommendations that target + reductions in Medicare program spending to sources + of excess cost growth; + ``(iv) consider the effects on Medicare + beneficiaries of changes in payments to providers + of services (as defined in section 1861(u)) and + suppliers (as defined in section 1861(d)); + ``(v) consider the effects of the + recommendations on providers of services and + suppliers with actual or projected negative cost + margins or payment updates; and + ``(vi) consider the unique needs of Medicare + beneficiaries who are dually eligible for Medicare + and the Medicaid program under title XIX. + ``(C) No increase in total medicare program + spending.--Each proposal submitted under this section + shall be designed in such a manner that implementation + of the recommendations contained in the proposal would + not be expected to result, over the 10-year period + starting with the implementation year, in any increase + in the total amount of net Medicare program spending + relative to the total amount of net Medicare program + spending that would have occurred absent such + implementation. + ``(D) Consultation with + medpac. <> --The Board shall submit a + draft copy of each proposal to be submitted under this + section to the Medicare Payment Advisory Commission + established under section 1805 for its + review. <> The Board + +[[Page 124 STAT. 492]] + + shall submit such draft copy by not later than September + 1 of the determination year. + ``(E) Review and comment by the + secretary. <> --The Board + shall submit a draft copy of each proposal to be + submitted to Congress under this section to the + Secretary for the Secretary's review and comment. The + Board shall submit such draft copy by not later than + September 1 of the determination + year. <> Not later than March 1 of the + submission year, the Secretary shall submit a report to + Congress on the results of such review, unless the + Secretary submits a proposal under paragraph (5)(A) in + that year. + ``(F) Consultations.--In carrying out its duties + under this section, the Board shall engage in regular + consultations with the Medicaid and CHIP Payment and + Access Commission under section 1900. + ``(3) Transmission of board proposal to president.-- + ``(A) In general.-- + ``(i) In general. <> --Except + as provided in clause (ii) and subsection + (f)(3)(B), the Board shall transmit a proposal + under this section to the President on January 15 + of each year (beginning with 2014). + ``(ii) Exception.--The Board shall not submit + a proposal under clause (i) in a proposal year if + the year is-- + ``(I) a year for which the Chief + Actuary of the Centers for Medicare & + Medicaid Services makes a determination + in the determination year under + paragraph (6)(A) that the growth rate + described in clause (i) of such + paragraph does not exceed the growth + rate described in clause (ii) of such + paragraph; + ``(II) a year in which the Chief + Actuary of the Centers for Medicare & + Medicaid Services makes a determination + in the determination year that the + projected percentage increase (if any) + for the medical care expenditure + category of the Consumer Price Index for + All Urban Consumers (United States city + average) for the implementation year is + less than the projected percentage + increase (if any) in the Consumer Price + Index for All Urban Consumers (all + items; United States city average) for + such implementation year; or + ``(III) for proposal year 2019 and + subsequent proposal years, a year in + which the Chief Actuary of the Centers + for Medicare & Medicaid Services makes a + determination in the determination year + that the growth rate described in + paragraph (8) exceeds the growth rate + described in paragraph (6)(A)(i). + ``(iii) Start-up period.--The Board may not + submit a proposal under clause (i) prior to + January 15, 2014. + ``(B) Required information.--Each proposal submitted + by the Board under subparagraph (A)(i) shall include-- + ``(i) the recommendations described in + paragraph (2)(A)(i); + +[[Page 124 STAT. 493]] + + ``(ii) an explanation of each recommendation + contained in the proposal and the reasons for + including such recommendation; + ``(iii) an actuarial opinion by the Chief + Actuary of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid + Services certifying that the proposal meets the + requirements of subparagraphs (A)(i) and (C) of + paragraph (2); + ``(iv) a legislative proposal that implements + the recommendations; and + ``(v) other information determined appropriate + by the Board. + ``(4) Presidential submission to congress.--Upon receiving a + proposal from the Board under paragraph (3)(A)(i) or the + Secretary under paragraph (5), the President shall immediately + submit such proposal to Congress. + ``(5) Contingent secretarial development of proposal.--If, + with respect to a proposal year, the Board is required, to but + fails, to submit a proposal to the President by the deadline + applicable under paragraph (3)(A)(i), the Secretary shall + develop a detailed and specific proposal that satisfies the + requirements of subparagraphs (A) and (C) (and, to the extent + feasible, subparagraph (B)) of paragraph (2) and contains the + information required paragraph + (3)(B)). <> By not later than + January 25 of the year, the Secretary shall transmit-- + ``(A) such proposal to the President; and + ``(B) a copy of such proposal to the Medicare + Payment Advisory Commission for its review. + ``(6) Per capita growth rate projections by chief actuary.-- + ``(A) In + general. <> --Subject + to subsection (f)(3)(A), not later than April 30, 2013, + and annually thereafter, the Chief Actuary of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services shall determine + in each such year whether-- + ``(i) the projected Medicare per capita growth + rate for the implementation year (as determined + under subparagraph (B)); exceeds + ``(ii) the projected Medicare per capita + target growth rate for the implementation year (as + determined under subparagraph (C)). + ``(B) Medicare per capita growth rate.-- + ``(i) In general.--For purposes of this + section, the Medicare per capita growth rate for + an implementation year shall be calculated as the + projected 5-year average (ending with such year) + of the growth in Medicare program spending per + unduplicated enrollee. + ``(ii) Requirement.--The projection under + clause (i) shall-- + ``(I) to the extent that there is + projected to be a negative update to the + single conversion factor applicable to + payments for physicians' services under + section 1848(d) furnished in the + proposal year or the implementation + year, assume that such update for such + services is 0 percent rather than the + negative percent that would otherwise + apply; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 494]] + + ``(II) take into account any + delivery system reforms or other payment + changes that have been enacted or + published in final rules but not yet + implemented as of the making of such + calculation. + ``(C) Medicare per capita target growth rate.--For + purposes of this section, the Medicare per capita target + growth rate for an implementation year shall be + calculated as the projected 5-year average (ending with + such year) percentage increase in-- + ``(i) with respect to a determination year + that is prior to 2018, the average of the + projected percentage increase (if any) in-- + ``(I) the Consumer Price Index for + All Urban Consumers (all items; United + States city average); and + ``(II) the medical care expenditure + category of the Consumer Price Index for + All Urban Consumers (United States city + average); and + ``(ii) with respect to a determination year + that is after 2017, the nominal gross domestic + product per capita plus 1.0 percentage point. + ``(7) Savings requirement.-- + ``(A) In general.--If, with respect to a + determination year, the Chief Actuary of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services makes a determination under + paragraph (6)(A) that the growth rate described in + clause (i) of such paragraph exceeds the growth rate + described in clause (ii) of such paragraph, the Chief + Actuary shall establish an applicable savings target for + the implementation year. + ``(B) Applicable savings target.--For purposes of + this section, the applicable savings target for an + implementation year shall be an amount equal to the + product of-- + ``(i) the total amount of projected Medicare + program spending for the proposal year; and + ``(ii) the applicable percent for the + implementation year. + ``(C) Applicable percent.--For purposes of + subparagraph (B), the applicable percent for an + implementation year is the lesser of-- + ``(i) in the case of-- + ``(I) implementation year 2015, 0.5 + percent; + ``(II) implementation year 2016, 1.0 + percent; + ``(III) implementation year 2017, + 1.25 percent; and + ``(IV) implementation year 2018 or + any subsequent implementation year, 1.5 + percent; and + ``(ii) the projected excess for the + implementation year (expressed as a percent) + determined under subparagraph (A). + ``(8) Per capita rate of growth in national health + expenditures. <> --In each determination + year (beginning in 2018), the Chief Actuary of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services shall project the per capita rate + of growth in national health expenditures for the implementation + year. Such rate of growth for an implementation year shall be + calculated as the projected 5-year average (ending with such + year) percentage increase in national health care expenditures. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 495]] + + ``(d) Congressional Consideration.-- + ``(1) <> Introduction.-- + ``(A) In general.--On the day on which a proposal is + submitted by the President to the House of + Representatives and the Senate under subsection (c)(4), + the legislative proposal (described in subsection + (c)(3)(B)(iv)) contained in the proposal shall be + introduced (by request) in the Senate by the majority + leader of the Senate or by Members of the Senate + designated by the majority leader of the Senate and + shall be introduced (by request) in the House by the + majority leader of the House or by Members of the House + designated by the majority leader of the House. + ``(B) Not in session.--If either House is not in + session on the day on which such legislative proposal is + submitted, the legislative proposal shall be introduced + in that House, as provided in subparagraph (A), on the + first day thereafter on which that House is in session. + ``(C) <> Any member.--If the + legislative proposal is not introduced in either House + within 5 days on which that House is in session after + the day on which the legislative proposal is submitted, + then any Member of that House may introduce the + legislative proposal. + ``(D) Referral.--The legislation introduced under + this paragraph shall be referred by the Presiding + Officers of the respective Houses to the Committee on + Finance in the Senate and to the Committee on Energy and + Commerce and the Committee on Ways and Means in the + House of Representatives. + ``(2) Committee consideration of proposal.-- + ``(A) Reporting bill.--Not later than April 1 of any + proposal year in which a proposal is submitted by the + President to Congress under this section, the Committee + on Ways and Means and the Committee on Energy and + Commerce of the House of Representatives and the + Committee on Finance of the Senate may report the bill + referred to the Committee under paragraph (1)(D) with + committee amendments related to the Medicare program. + ``(B) Calculations.--In determining whether a + committee amendment meets the requirement of + subparagraph (A), the reductions in Medicare program + spending during the 3-month period immediately preceding + the implementation year shall be counted to the extent + that such reductions are a result of the implementation + provisions in the committee amendment for a change in + the payment rate for an item or service that was + effective during such period pursuant to such amendment. + ``(C) Committee jurisdiction.--Notwithstanding rule + XV of the Standing Rules of the Senate, a committee + amendment described in subparagraph (A) may include + matter not within the jurisdiction of the Committee on + Finance if that matter is relevant to a proposal + contained in the bill submitted under subsection (c)(3). + ``(D) Discharge.--If, with respect to the House + involved, the committee has not reported the bill by the + date required by subparagraph (A), the committee shall + be discharged from further consideration of the + proposal. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 496]] + + ``(3) Limitation on changes to the board recommendations.-- + ``(A) In general.--It shall not be in order in the + Senate or the House of Representatives to consider any + bill, resolution, or amendment, pursuant to this + subsection or conference report thereon, that fails to + satisfy the requirements of subparagraphs (A)(i) and (C) + of subsection (c)(2). + ``(B) Limitation on changes to the board + recommendations in other legislation.--It shall not be + in order in the Senate or the House of Representatives + to consider any bill, resolution, amendment, or + conference report (other than pursuant to this section) + that would repeal or otherwise change the + recommendations of the Board if that change would fail + to satisfy the requirements of subparagraphs (A)(i) and + (C) of subsection (c)(2). + ``(C) Limitation on changes to this subsection.--It + shall not be in order in the Senate or the House of + Representatives to consider any bill, resolution, + amendment, or conference report that would repeal or + otherwise change this subsection. + ``(D) Waiver.--This paragraph may be waived or + suspended in the Senate only by the affirmative vote of + three-fifths of the Members, duly chosen and sworn. + ``(E) Appeals.--An affirmative vote of three-fifths + of the Members of the Senate, duly chosen and sworn, + shall be required in the Senate to sustain an appeal of + the ruling of the Chair on a point of order raised under + this paragraph. + ``(4) Expedited procedure.-- + ``(A) Consideration.--A motion to proceed to the + consideration of the bill in the Senate is not + debatable. + ``(B) Amendment.-- + ``(i) Time limitation.--Debate in the Senate + on any amendment to a bill under this section + shall be limited to 1 hour, to be equally divided + between, and controlled by, the mover and the + manager of the bill, and debate on any amendment + to an amendment, debatable motion, or appeal shall + be limited to 30 minutes, to be equally divided + between, and controlled by, the mover and the + manager of the bill, except that in the event the + manager of the bill is in favor of any such + amendment, motion, or appeal, the time in + opposition thereto shall be controlled by the + minority leader or such leader's designee. + ``(ii) Germane.--No amendment that is not + germane to the provisions of such bill shall be + received. + ``(iii) Additional time.--The leaders, or + either of them, may, from the time under their + control on the passage of the bill, allot + additional time to any Senator during the + consideration of any amendment, debatable motion, + or appeal. + ``(iv) Amendment not in order.--It shall not + be in order to consider an amendment that would + cause the bill to result in a net reduction in + total Medicare program spending in the + implementation year that is less than the + applicable savings target established + +[[Page 124 STAT. 497]] + + under subsection (c)(7)(B) for such implementation + year. + ``(v) Waiver and appeals.--This paragraph may + be waived or suspended in the Senate only by the + affirmative vote of three-fifths of the Members, + duly chosen and sworn. An affirmative vote of + three-fifths of the Members of the Senate, duly + chosen and sworn, shall be required in the Senate + to sustain an appeal of the ruling of the Chair on + a point of order raised under this section. + ``(C) Consideration by the other house.-- + ``(i) In general.--The expedited procedures + provided in this subsection for the consideration + of a bill introduced pursuant to paragraph (1) + shall not apply to such a bill that is received by + one House from the other House if such a bill was + not introduced in the receiving House. + ``(ii) Before + passage. <> --If a bill that + is introduced pursuant to paragraph (1) is + received by one House from the other House, after + introduction but before disposition of such a bill + in the receiving House, then the following shall + apply: + ``(I) The receiving House shall + consider the bill introduced in that + House through all stages of + consideration up to, but not including, + passage. + ``(II) The question on passage shall + be put on the bill of the other House as + amended by the language of the receiving + House. + ``(iii) After passage.--If a bill introduced + pursuant to paragraph (1) is received by one House + from the other House, after such a bill is passed + by the receiving House, then the vote on passage + of the bill that originates in the receiving House + shall be considered to be the vote on passage of + the bill received from the other House as amended + by the language of the receiving House. + ``(iv) Disposition.--Upon disposition of a + bill introduced pursuant to paragraph (1) that is + received by one House from the other House, it + shall no longer be in order to consider the bill + that originates in the receiving House. + ``(v) Limitation. <> -- + Clauses (ii), (iii), and (iv) shall apply only to + a bill received by one House from the other House + if the bill-- + ``(I) is related only to the program + under this title; and + ``(II) satisfies the requirements of + subparagraphs (A)(i) and (C) of + subsection (c)(2). + ``(D) Senate limits on debate.-- + ``(i) In general.--In the Senate, + consideration of the bill and on all debatable + motions and appeals in connection therewith shall + not exceed a total of 30 hours, which shall be + divided equally between the majority and minority + leaders or their designees. + ``(ii) Motion to further limit debate.--A + motion to further limit debate on the bill is in + order and is not debatable. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 498]] + + ``(iii) Motion or appeal.--Any debatable + motion or appeal is debatable for not to exceed 1 + hour, to be divided equally between those favoring + and those opposing the motion or appeal. + ``(iv) Final disposition.--After 30 hours of + consideration, the Senate shall proceed, without + any further debate on any question, to vote on the + final disposition thereof to the exclusion of all + amendments not then pending before the Senate at + that time and to the exclusion of all motions, + except a motion to table, or to reconsider and one + quorum call on demand to establish the presence of + a quorum (and motions required to establish a + quorum) immediately before the final vote begins. + ``(E) Consideration in conference.-- + ``(i) In general.--Consideration in the Senate + and the House of Representatives on the conference + report or any messages between Houses shall be + limited to 10 hours, equally divided and + controlled by the majority and minority leaders of + the Senate or their designees and the Speaker of + the House of Representatives and the minority + leader of the House of Representatives or their + designees. + ``(ii) Time limitation.--Debate in the Senate + on any amendment under this subparagraph shall be + limited to 1 hour, to be equally divided between, + and controlled by, the mover and the manager of + the bill, and debate on any amendment to an + amendment, debatable motion, or appeal shall be + limited to 30 minutes, to be equally divided + between, and controlled by, the mover and the + manager of the bill, except that in the event the + manager of the bill is in favor of any such + amendment, motion, or appeal, the time in + opposition thereto shall be controlled by the + minority leader or such leader's designee. + ``(iii) Final disposition.--After 10 hours of + consideration, the Senate shall proceed, without + any further debate on any question, to vote on the + final disposition thereof to the exclusion of all + motions not then pending before the Senate at that + time or necessary to resolve the differences + between the Houses and to the exclusion of all + other motions, except a motion to table, or to + reconsider and one quorum call on demand to + establish the presence of a quorum (and motions + required to establish a quorum) immediately before + the final vote begins. + ``(iv) Limitation. <> -- + Clauses (i) through (iii) shall only apply to a + conference report, message or the amendments + thereto if the conference report, message, or an + amendment thereto-- + ``(I) is related only to the program + under this title; and + ``(II) satisfies the requirements of + subparagraphs (A)(i) and (C) of + subsection (c)(2). + ``(F) Veto.--If the President vetoes the bill debate + on a veto message in the Senate under this subsection + shall + +[[Page 124 STAT. 499]] + + be 1 hour equally divided between the majority and + minority leaders or their designees. + ``(5) Rules of the senate and house of representatives.-- + This subsection and subsection (f)(2) are enacted by Congress-- + ``(A) as an exercise of the rulemaking power of the + Senate and the House of Representatives, respectively, + and is deemed to be part of the rules of each House, + respectively, but applicable only with respect to the + procedure to be followed in that House in the case of + bill under this section, and it supersedes other rules + only to the extent that it is inconsistent with such + rules; and + ``(B) with full recognition of the constitutional + right of either House to change the rules (so far as + they relate to the procedure of that House) at any time, + in the same manner, and to the same extent as in the + case of any other rule of that House. + + ``(e) Implementation of Proposal.-- + ``(1) In general.--Notwithstanding any other provision of + law, the Secretary shall, except as provided in paragraph (3), + implement the recommendations contained in a proposal submitted + by the President to Congress pursuant to this section on August + 15 of the year in which the proposal is so submitted. + ``(2) Application.-- + ``(A) In general.--A recommendation described in + paragraph (1) shall apply as follows: + ``(i) In the case of a recommendation that is + a change in the payment rate for an item or + service under Medicare in which payment rates + change on a fiscal year basis (or a cost reporting + period basis that relates to a fiscal year), on a + calendar year basis (or a cost reporting period + basis that relates to a calendar year), or on a + rate year basis (or a cost reporting period basis + that relates to a rate year), such recommendation + shall apply to items and services furnished on the + first day of the first fiscal year, calendar year, + or rate year (as the case may be) that begins + after such August 15. + ``(ii) In the case of a recommendation + relating to payments to plans under parts C and D, + such recommendation shall apply to plan years + beginning on the first day of the first calendar + year that begins after such August 15. + ``(iii) In the case of any other + recommendation, such recommendation shall be + addressed in the regular regulatory process + timeframe and shall apply as soon as practicable. + ``(B) Interim final rulemaking.--The Secretary may + use interim final rulemaking to implement any + recommendation described in paragraph (1). + ``(3) Exception.--The Secretary shall not be required to + implement the recommendations contained in a proposal submitted + in a proposal year by the President to Congress pursuant to this + section if-- + ``(A) prior to August 15 of the proposal year, + Federal legislation is enacted that includes the + following provision: `This Act supercedes the + recommendations of the Board + +[[Page 124 STAT. 500]] + + contained in the proposal submitted, in the year which + includes the date of enactment of this Act, to Congress + under section 1899A of the Social Security Act.'; and + ``(B) <> in the case of + implementation year 2020 and subsequent implementation + years, a joint resolution described in subsection (f)(1) + is enacted not later than August 15, 2017. + ``(4) No affect on authority to implement certain + provisions.--Nothing in paragraph (3) shall be construed to + affect the authority of the Secretary to implement any + recommendation contained in a proposal or advisory report under + this section to the extent that the Secretary otherwise has the + authority to implement such recommendation administratively. + ``(5) Limitation on review.--There shall be no + administrative or judicial review under section 1869, section + 1878, or otherwise of the implementation by the Secretary under + this subsection of the recommendations contained in a proposal. + + ``(f) Joint Resolution Required To Discontinue the Board.-- + ``(1) In general. <> --For purposes of + subsection (e)(3)(B), a joint resolution described in this + paragraph means only a joint resolution-- + ``(A) that is introduced in 2017 by not later than + February 1 of such year; + ``(B) which does not have a preamble; + ``(C) the title of which is as follows: `Joint + resolution approving the discontinuation of the process + for consideration and automatic implementation of the + annual proposal of the Independent Medicare Advisory + Board under section 1899A of the Social Security Act'; + and + ``(D) the matter after the resolving clause of which + is as follows: `That Congress approves the + discontinuation of the process for consideration and + automatic implementation of the annual proposal of the + Independent Medicare Advisory Board under section 1899A + of the Social Security Act.'. + ``(2) Procedure.-- + ``(A) Referral.--A joint resolution described in + paragraph (1) shall be referred to the Committee on Ways + and Means and the Committee on Energy and Commerce of + the House of Representatives and the Committee on + Finance of the Senate. + ``(B) Discharge. <> --In + the Senate, if the committee to which is referred a + joint resolution described in paragraph (1) has not + reported such joint resolution (or an identical joint + resolution) at the end of 20 days after the joint + resolution described in paragraph (1) is introduced, + such committee may be discharged from further + consideration of such joint resolution upon a petition + supported in writing by 30 Members of the Senate, and + such joint resolution shall be placed on the calendar. + ``(C) Consideration.-- + ``(i) In general.--In the Senate, when the + committee to which a joint resolution is referred + has reported, or when a committee is discharged + (under subparagraph (C)) from further + consideration of a joint + +[[Page 124 STAT. 501]] + + resolution described in paragraph (1), it is at + any time thereafter in order (even though a + previous motion to the same effect has been + disagreed to) for a motion to proceed to the + consideration of the joint resolution to be made, + and all points of order against the joint + resolution (and against consideration of the joint + resolution) are waived, except for points of order + under the Congressional Budget act of 1974 or + under budget resolutions pursuant to that Act. The + motion is not debatable. A motion to reconsider + the vote by which the motion is agreed to or + disagreed to shall not be in order. If a motion to + proceed to the consideration of the joint + resolution is agreed to, the joint resolution + shall remain the unfinished business of the Senate + until disposed of. + ``(ii) Debate limitation.--In the Senate, + consideration of the joint resolution, and on all + debatable motions and appeals in connection + therewith, shall be limited to not more than 10 + hours, which shall be divided equally between the + majority leader and the minority leader, or their + designees. A motion further to limit debate is in + order and not debatable. An amendment to, or a + motion to postpone, or a motion to proceed to the + consideration of other business, or a motion to + recommit the joint resolution is not in order. + ``(iii) Passage.--In the Senate, immediately + following the conclusion of the debate on a joint + resolution described in paragraph (1), and a + single quorum call at the conclusion of the debate + if requested in accordance with the rules of the + Senate, the vote on passage of the joint + resolution shall occur. + ``(iv) Appeals.--Appeals from the decisions of + the Chair relating to the application of the rules + of the Senate to the procedure relating to a joint + resolution described in paragraph (1) shall be + decided without debate. + ``(D) Other house acts + first. <> --If, before the passage + by 1 House of a joint resolution of that House described + in paragraph (1), that House receives from the other + House a joint resolution described in paragraph (1), + then the following procedures shall apply: + ``(i) The joint resolution of the other House + shall not be referred to a committee. + ``(ii) With respect to a joint resolution + described in paragraph (1) of the House receiving + the joint resolution-- + ``(I) the procedure in that House + shall be the same as if no joint + resolution had been received from the + other House; but + ``(II) the vote on final passage + shall be on the joint resolution of the + other House. + ``(E) Excluded days.--For purposes of determining + the period specified in subparagraph (B), there shall be + excluded any days either House of Congress is adjourned + for more than 3 days during a session of Congress. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 502]] + + ``(F) Majority required for adoption.--A joint + resolution considered under this subsection shall + require an affirmative vote of three-fifths of the + Members, duly chosen and sworn, for adoption. + ``(3) <> Termination.--If a joint + resolution described in paragraph (1) is enacted not later than + August 15, 2017-- + ``(A) the Chief Actuary of the Medicare & Medicaid + Services shall not-- + ``(i) make any determinations under subsection + (c)(6) after May 1, 2017; or + ``(ii) provide any opinion pursuant to + subsection (c)(3)(B)(iii) after January 16, 2018; + ``(B) the Board shall not submit any proposals or + advisory reports to Congress under this section after + January 16, 2018; and + ``(C) the Board and the consumer advisory council + under subsection (k) shall terminate on August 16, 2018. + + ``(g) Board Membership; Terms of Office; Chairperson; Removal.-- + ``(1) Membership.-- + ``(A) <> In + general.--The Board shall be composed of-- + ``(i) 15 members appointed by the President, + by and with the advice and consent of the Senate; + and + ``(ii) the Secretary, the Administrator of the + Center for Medicare & Medicaid Services, and the + Administrator of the Health Resources and Services + Administration, all of whom shall serve ex officio + as nonvoting members of the Board. + ``(B) Qualifications.-- + ``(i) In general.--The appointed membership of + the Board shall include individuals with national + recognition for their expertise in health finance + and economics, actuarial science, health facility + management, health plans and integrated delivery + systems, reimbursement of health facilities, + allopathic and osteopathic physicians, and other + providers of health services, and other related + fields, who provide a mix of different + professionals, broad geographic representation, + and a balance between urban and rural + representatives. + ``(ii) Inclusion.--The appointed membership of + the Board shall include (but not be limited to) + physicians and other health professionals, experts + in the area of pharmaco-economics or prescription + drug benefit programs, employers, third-party + payers, individuals skilled in the conduct and + interpretation of biomedical, health services, and + health economics research and expertise in + outcomes and effectiveness research and technology + assessment. Such membership shall also include + representatives of consumers and the elderly. + ``(iii) Majority nonproviders.--Individuals + who are directly involved in the provision or + management of the delivery of items and services + covered under this title shall not constitute a + majority of the appointed membership of the Board. + ``(C) Ethical disclosure. <> --The President shall establish a system + for public disclosure by appointed members + +[[Page 124 STAT. 503]] + + of the Board of financial and other potential conflicts + of interest relating to such members. Appointed members + of the Board shall be treated as officers in the + executive branch for purposes of applying title I of the + Ethics in Government Act of 1978 (Public Law 95-521). + ``(D) Conflicts of interest.--No individual may + serve as an appointed member if that individual engages + in any other business, vocation, or employment. + ``(E) Consultation with + congress. <> --In selecting + individuals for nominations for appointments to the + Board, the President shall consult with-- + ``(i) the majority leader of the Senate + concerning the appointment of 3 members; + ``(ii) the Speaker of the House of + Representatives concerning the appointment of 3 + members; + ``(iii) the minority leader of the Senate + concerning the appointment of 3 members; and + ``(iv) the minority leader of the House of + Representatives concerning the appointment of 3 + members. + ``(2) Term of office.--Each appointed member shall hold + office for a term of 6 years except that-- + ``(A) a member may not serve more than 2 full + consecutive terms (but may be reappointed to 2 full + consecutive terms after being appointed to fill a + vacancy on the Board); + ``(B) a member appointed to fill a vacancy occurring + prior to the expiration of the term for which that + member's predecessor was appointed shall be appointed + for the remainder of such term; + ``(C) a member may continue to serve after the + expiration of the member's term until a successor has + taken office; and + ``(D) of the members first appointed under this + section, 5 shall be appointed for a term of 1 year, 5 + shall be appointed for a term of 3 years, and 5 shall be + appointed for a term of 6 years, the term of each to be + designated by the President at the time of nomination. + ``(3) Chairperson.-- + ``(A) In + general. <> --The + Chairperson shall be appointed by the President, by and + with the advice and consent of the Senate, from among + the members of the Board. + ``(B) Duties.--The Chairperson shall be the + principal executive officer of the Board, and shall + exercise all of the executive and administrative + functions of the Board, including functions of the Board + with respect to-- + ``(i) the appointment and supervision of + personnel employed by the Board; + ``(ii) the distribution of business among + personnel appointed and supervised by the + Chairperson and among administrative units of the + Board; and + ``(iii) the use and expenditure of funds. + ``(C) Governance.--In carrying out any of the + functions under subparagraph (B), the Chairperson shall + be governed by the general policies established by the + Board and by the decisions, findings, and determinations + the Board shall by law be authorized to make. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 504]] + + ``(D) Requests for appropriations.--Requests or + estimates for regular, supplemental, or deficiency + appropriations on behalf of the Board may not be + submitted by the Chairperson without the prior approval + of a majority vote of the Board. + ``(4) Removal.--Any appointed member may be removed by the + President for neglect of duty or malfeasance in office, but for + no other cause. + + ``(h) Vacancies; Quorum; Seal; Vice Chairperson; Voting on +Reports.-- + ``(1) Vacancies.--No vacancy on the Board shall impair the + right of the remaining members to exercise all the powers of the + Board. + ``(2) Quorum.--A majority of the appointed members of the + Board shall constitute a quorum for the transaction of business, + but a lesser number of members may hold hearings. + ``(3) Seal.--The Board shall have an official seal, of which + judicial notice shall be taken. + ``(4) Vice chairperson. <> --The Board + shall annually elect a Vice Chairperson to act in the absence or + disability of the Chairperson or in case of a vacancy in the + office of the Chairperson. + ``(5) Voting on proposals.--Any proposal of the Board must + be approved by the majority of appointed members present. + + ``(i) Powers of the Board.-- + ``(1) Hearings.--The Board may hold such hearings, sit and + act at such times and places, take such testimony, and receive + such evidence as the Board considers advisable to carry out this + section. + ``(2) Authority to inform research priorities for data + collection.--The Board may advise the Secretary on priorities + for health services research, particularly as such priorities + pertain to necessary changes and issues regarding payment + reforms under Medicare. + ``(3) Obtaining official data.--The Board may secure + directly from any department or agency of the United States + information necessary to enable it to carry out this section. + Upon request of the Chairperson, the head of that department or + agency shall furnish that information to the Board on an agreed + upon schedule. + ``(4) Postal services.--The Board may use the United States + mails in the same manner and under the same conditions as other + departments and agencies of the Federal Government. + ``(5) Gifts.--The Board may accept, use, and dispose of + gifts or donations of services or property. + ``(6) Offices.--The Board shall maintain a principal office + and such field offices as it determines necessary, and may meet + and exercise any of its powers at any other place. + + ``(j) Personnel Matters.-- + ``(1) Compensation of members and chairperson.--Each + appointed member, other than the Chairperson, shall be + compensated at a rate equal to the annual rate of basic pay + prescribed for level III of the Executive Schedule under section + 5315 of title 5, United States Code. The Chairperson shall be + compensated at a rate equal to the daily equivalent of the + annual rate of basic pay prescribed for level II of the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 505]] + + Executive Schedule under section 5315 of title 5, United States + Code. + ``(2) Travel expenses.--The appointed members shall be + allowed travel expenses, including per diem in lieu of + subsistence, at rates authorized for employees of agencies under + subchapter I of chapter 57 of title 5, United States Code, while + away from their homes or regular places of business in the + performance of services for the Board. + ``(3) Staff.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Chairperson may, without + regard to the civil service laws and regulations, + appoint and terminate an executive director and such + other additional personnel as may be necessary to enable + the Board to perform its duties. The employment of an + executive director shall be subject to confirmation by + the Board. + ``(B) Compensation.--The Chairperson may fix the + compensation of the executive director and other + personnel without regard to chapter 51 and subchapter + III of chapter 53 of title 5, United States Code, + relating to classification of positions and General + Schedule pay rates, except that the rate of pay for the + executive director and other personnel may not exceed + the rate payable for level V of the Executive Schedule + under section 5316 of such title. + ``(4) Detail of government employees.--Any Federal + Government employee may be detailed to the Board without + reimbursement, and such detail shall be without interruption or + loss of civil service status or privilege. + ``(5) Procurement of temporary and intermittent services.-- + The Chairperson may procure temporary and intermittent services + under section 3109(b) of title 5, United States Code, at rates + for individuals which do not exceed the daily equivalent of the + annual rate of basic pay prescribed for level V of the Executive + Schedule under section 5316 of such title. + + ``(k) Consumer Advisory Council.-- + ``(1) In general. <> --There is + established a consumer advisory council to advise the Board on + the impact of payment policies under this title on consumers. + ``(2) Membership.-- + ``(A) Number and appointment.--The consumer advisory + council shall be composed of 10 consumer representatives + appointed by the Comptroller General of the United + States, 1 from among each of the 10 regions established + by the Secretary as of the date of enactment of this + section. + ``(B) Qualifications.--The membership of the council + shall represent the interests of consumers and + particular communities. + ``(3) Duties. <> --The consumer advisory + council shall, subject to the call of the Board, meet not less + frequently than 2 times each year in the District of Columbia. + ``(4) Open meetings.--Meetings of the consumer advisory + council shall be open to the public. + ``(5) Election of officers.--Members of the consumer + advisory council shall elect their own officers. + ``(6) Application of faca.--The Federal Advisory Committee + Act (5 U.S.C. App.) shall apply to the consumer advisory council + except that section 14 of such Act shall not apply. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 506]] + + ``(l) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Board; chairperson; member.--The terms `Board', + `Chairperson', and `Member' mean the Independent Medicare + Advisory Board established under subsection (a) and the + Chairperson and any Member thereof, respectively. + ``(2) Medicare.--The term `Medicare' means the program + established under this title, including parts A, B, C, and D. + ``(3) Medicare beneficiary.--The term `Medicare beneficiary' + means an individual who is entitled to, or enrolled for, + benefits under part A or enrolled for benefits under part B. + ``(4) Medicare program spending.--The term `Medicare program + spending' means program spending under parts A, B, and D net of + premiums. + + ``(m) Funding.-- + ``(1) In general.--There are appropriated to the Board to + carry out its duties and functions-- + ``(A) for fiscal year 2012, $15,000,000; and + ``(B) for each subsequent fiscal year, the amount + appropriated under this paragraph for the previous + fiscal year increased by the annual percentage increase + in the Consumer Price Index for All Urban Consumers (all + items; United States city average) as of June of the + previous fiscal year. + ``(2) From trust funds.--Sixty percent of amounts + appropriated under paragraph (1) shall be derived by transfer + from the Federal Hospital Insurance Trust Fund under section + 1817 and 40 percent of amounts appropriated under such paragraph + shall be derived by transfer from the Federal Supplementary + Medical Insurance Trust Fund under section 1841.''. + (2) Lobbying cooling-off period for members of the + independent medicare advisory board.--Section 207(c) of title + 18, United States Code, is amended by inserting at the end the + following: + ``(3) Members of the independent medicare advisory board.-- + ``(A) In general. <> -- + Paragraph (1) shall apply to a member of the Independent + Medicare Advisory Board under section 1899A. + ``(B) Agencies and congress.--For purposes of + paragraph (1), the agency in which the individual + described in subparagraph (A) served shall be considered + to be the Independent Medicare Advisory Board, the + Department of Health and Human Services, and the + relevant committees of jurisdiction of Congress, + including the Committee on Ways and Means and the + Committee on Energy and Commerce of the House of + Representatives and the Committee on Finance of the + Senate.''. + + (b) <> GAO Study and Report on +Determination and Implementation of Payment and Coverage Policies Under +the Medicare Program.-- + (1) Initial study and report.-- + (A) Study.--The Comptroller General of the United + States (in this section referred to as the ``Comptroller + General'') shall conduct a study on changes to payment + policies, methodologies, and rates and coverage policies + and methodologies under the Medicare program under title + XVIII + +[[Page 124 STAT. 507]] + + of the Social Security Act as a result of the + recommendations contained in the proposals made by the + Independent Medicare Advisory Board under section 1899A + of such Act (as added by subsection (a)), including an + analysis of the effect of such recommendations on-- + (i) Medicare beneficiary access to providers + and items and services; + (ii) the affordability of Medicare premiums + and cost-sharing (including deductibles, + coinsurance, and copayments); + (iii) the potential impact of changes on other + government or private-sector purchasers and payers + of care; and + (iv) quality of patient care, including + patient experience, outcomes, and other measures + of care. + (B) Report.--Not later than July 1, 2015, the + Comptroller General shall submit to Congress a report + containing the results of the study conducted under + subparagraph (A), together with recommendations for such + legislation and administrative action as the Comptroller + General determines appropriate. + (2) Subsequent studies and reports.--The Comptroller General + shall periodically conduct such additional studies and submit + reports to Congress on changes to Medicare payments policies, + methodologies, and rates and coverage policies and methodologies + as the Comptroller General determines appropriate, in + consultation with the Committee on Ways and Means and the + Committee on Energy and Commerce of the House of Representatives + and the Committee on Finance of the Senate. + + (c) Conforming Amendments.--Section 1805(b) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395b-6(b)) is amended-- + (1) by redesignating paragraphs (4) through (8) as + paragraphs (5) through (9), respectively; and + (2) by inserting after paragraph (3) the following: + ``(4) Review and comment on the independent medicare + advisory board or secretarial proposal. <> --If + the Independent Medicare Advisory Board (as established under + subsection (a) of section 1899A) or the Secretary submits a + proposal to the Commission under such section in a year, the + Commission shall review the proposal and, not later than March 1 + of that year, submit to the Committee on Ways and Means and the + Committee on Energy and Commerce of the House of Representatives + and the Committee on Finance of the Senate written comments on + such proposal. Such comments may include such recommendations as + the Commission deems appropriate.''. + + Subtitle F--Health Care Quality Improvements + +SEC. 3501. HEALTH CARE DELIVERY SYSTEM RESEARCH; QUALITY IMPROVEMENT + TECHNICAL ASSISTANCE. + + Part D of title IX of the Public Health Service Act, as amended by +section 3013, is further amended by adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 508]] + + ``Subpart II--Health Care Quality Improvement Programs + +``SEC. 933. <> HEALTH CARE DELIVERY SYSTEM + RESEARCH. + + ``(a) Purpose.--The purposes of this section are to-- + ``(1) enable the Director to identify, develop, evaluate, + disseminate, and provide training in innovative methodologies + and strategies for quality improvement practices in the delivery + of health care services that represent best practices (referred + to as `best practices') in health care quality, safety, and + value; and + ``(2) ensure that the Director is accountable for + implementing a model to pursue such research in a collaborative + manner with other related Federal agencies. + + ``(b) General Functions of the Center.--The Center for Quality +Improvement and Patient Safety of the Agency for Healthcare Research and +Quality (referred to in this section as the `Center'), or any other +relevant agency or department designated by the Director, shall-- + ``(1) carry out its functions using research from a variety + of disciplines, which may include epidemiology, health services, + sociology, psychology, human factors engineering, biostatistics, + health economics, clinical research, and health informatics; + ``(2) conduct or support activities consistent with the + purposes described in subsection (a), and for-- + ``(A) best practices for quality improvement + practices in the delivery of health care services; and + ``(B) that include changes in processes of care and + the redesign of systems used by providers that will + reliably result in intended health outcomes, improve + patient safety, and reduce medical errors (such as skill + development for health care providers in team-based + health care delivery and rapid cycle process + improvement) and facilitate adoption of improved + workflow; + ``(3) identify health care providers, including health care + systems, single institutions, and individual providers, that-- + ``(A) deliver consistently high-quality, efficient + health care services (as determined by the Secretary); + and + ``(B) employ best practices that are adaptable and + scalable to diverse health care settings or effective in + improving care across diverse settings; + ``(4) assess research, evidence, and knowledge about what + strategies and methodologies are most effective in improving + health care delivery; + ``(5) find ways to translate such information rapidly and + effectively into practice, and document the sustainability of + those improvements; + ``(6) create strategies for quality improvement through the + development of tools, methodologies, and interventions that can + successfully reduce variations in the delivery of health care; + ``(7) identify, measure, and improve organizational, human, + or other causative factors, including those related to the + culture and system design of a health care organization, that + contribute to the success and sustainability of specific quality + improvement and patient safety strategies; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 509]] + + ``(8) provide for the development of best practices in the + delivery of health care services that-- + ``(A) have a high likelihood of success, based on + structured review of empirical evidence; + ``(B) are specified with sufficient detail of the + individual processes, steps, training, skills, and + knowledge required for implementation and incorporation + into workflow of health care practitioners in a variety + of settings; + ``(C) are designed to be readily adapted by health + care providers in a variety of settings; and + ``(D) where applicable, assist health care providers + in working with other health care providers across the + continuum of care and in engaging patients and their + families in improving the care and patient health + outcomes; + ``(9) provide for the funding of the activities of + organizations with recognized expertise and excellence in + improving the delivery of health care services, including + children's health care, by involving multiple disciplines, + managers of health care entities, broad development and + training, patients, caregivers and families, and frontline + health care workers, including activities for the examination of + strategies to share best quality improvement practices and to + promote excellence in the delivery of health care services; and + ``(10) build capacity at the State and community level to + lead quality and safety efforts through education, training, and + mentoring programs to carry out the activities under paragraphs + (1) through (9). + + ``(c) Research Functions of Center.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Center shall support, such as through + a contract or other mechanism, research on health care delivery + system improvement and the development of tools to facilitate + adoption of best practices that improve the quality, safety, and + efficiency of health care delivery services. Such support may + include establishing a Quality Improvement Network Research + Program for the purpose of testing, scaling, and disseminating + of interventions to improve quality and efficiency in health + care. Recipients of funding under the Program may include + national, State, multi-State, or multi-site quality improvement + networks. + ``(2) Research requirements.--The research conducted + pursuant to paragraph (1) shall-- + ``(A) address the priorities identified by the + Secretary in the national strategic plan established + under section 399HH; + ``(B) identify areas in which evidence is + insufficient to identify strategies and methodologies, + taking into consideration areas of insufficient evidence + identified by the entity with a contract under section + 1890(a) of the Social Security Act in the report + required under section 399JJ; + ``(C) address concerns identified by health care + institutions and providers and communicated through the + Center pursuant to subsection (d); + ``(D) reduce preventable morbidity, mortality, and + associated costs of morbidity and mortality by building + capacity for patient safety research; + ``(E) support the discovery of processes for the + reliable, safe, efficient, and responsive delivery of + health care, taking + +[[Page 124 STAT. 510]] + + into account discoveries from clinical research and + comparative effectiveness research; + ``(F) allow communication of research findings and + translate evidence into practice recommendations that + are adaptable to a variety of settings, and which, as + soon as practicable after the establishment of the + Center, shall include-- + ``(i) the implementation of a national + application of Intensive Care Unit improvement + projects relating to the adult (including + geriatric), pediatric, and neonatal patient + populations; + ``(ii) practical methods for addressing health + care associated infections, including Methicillin- + Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus and Vancomycin- + Resistant Entercoccus infections and other + emerging infections; and + ``(iii) practical methods for reducing + preventable hospital admissions and readmissions; + ``(G) expand demonstration projects for improving + the quality of children's health care and the use of + health information technology, such as through Pediatric + Quality Improvement Collaboratives and Learning + Networks, consistent with provisions of section 1139A of + the Social Security Act for assessing and improving + quality, where applicable; + ``(H) identify and mitigate hazards by-- + ``(i) analyzing events reported to patient + safety reporting systems and patient safety + organizations; and + ``(ii) using the results of such analyses to + develop scientific methods of response to such + events; + ``(I) include the conduct of systematic reviews of + existing practices that improve the quality, safety, and + efficiency of health care delivery, as well as new + research on improving such practices; and + ``(J) include the examination of how to measure and + evaluate the progress of quality and patient safety + activities. + + ``(d) Dissemination of Research Findings.-- + ``(1) Public availability.--The Director shall make the + research findings of the Center available to the public through + multiple media and appropriate formats to reflect the varying + needs of health care providers and consumers and diverse levels + of health literacy. + ``(2) Linkage to health information technology.--The + Secretary shall ensure that research findings and results + generated by the Center are shared with the Office of the + National Coordinator of Health Information Technology and used + to inform the activities of the health information technology + extension program under section 3012, as well as any relevant + standards, certification criteria, or implementation + specifications. + + ``(e) Prioritization. <> --The Director shall identify +and regularly update a list of processes or systems on which to focus +research and dissemination activities of the Center, taking into +account-- + ``(1) the cost to Federal health programs; + ``(2) consumer assessment of health care experience; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 511]] + + ``(3) provider assessment of such processes or systems and + opportunities to minimize distress and injury to the health care + workforce; + ``(4) the potential impact of such processes or systems on + health status and function of patients, including vulnerable + populations including children; + ``(5) the areas of insufficient evidence identified under + subsection (c)(2)(B); and + ``(6) the evolution of meaningful use of health information + technology, as defined in section 3000. + + ``(f) Coordination.--The Center shall coordinate its activities with +activities conducted by the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Innovation +established under section 1115A of the Social Security Act. + ``(g) Funding.--There is authorized to be appropriated to carry out +this section $20,000,000 for fiscal years 2010 through 2014. + +``SEC. 934. <> QUALITY + IMPROVEMENT TECHNICAL ASSISTANCE AND IMPLEMENTATION. + + ``(a) In General.--The Director, through the Center for Quality +Improvement and Patient Safety of the Agency for Healthcare Research and +Quality (referred to in this section as the `Center'), shall award-- + ``(1) technical assistance grants or contracts to eligible + entities to provide technical support to institutions that + deliver health care and health care providers (including rural + and urban providers of services and suppliers with limited + infrastructure and financial resources to implement and support + quality improvement activities, providers of services and + suppliers with poor performance scores, and providers of + services and suppliers for which there are disparities in care + among subgroups of patients) so that such institutions and + providers understand, adapt, and implement the models and + practices identified in the research conducted by the Center, + including the Quality Improvement Networks Research Program; and + ``(2) implementation grants or contracts to eligible + entities to implement the models and practices described under + paragraph (1). + + ``(b) Eligible Entities.-- + ``(1) Technical assistance award.--To be eligible to receive + a technical assistance grant or contract under subsection + (a)(1), an entity-- + ``(A) may be a health care provider, health care + provider association, professional society, health care + worker organization, Indian health organization, quality + improvement organization, patient safety organization, + local quality improvement collaborative, the Joint + Commission, academic health center, university, + physician-based research network, primary care extension + program established under section 399W, a Federal Indian + Health Service program or a health program operated by + an Indian tribe (as defined in section 4 of the Indian + Health Care Improvement Act), or any other entity + identified by the Secretary; and + ``(B) shall have demonstrated expertise in providing + information and technical support and assistance to + health care providers regarding quality improvement. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 512]] + + ``(2) Implementation award.--To be eligible to receive an + implementation grant or contract under subsection (a)(2), an + entity-- + ``(A) may be a hospital or other health care + provider or consortium or providers, as determined by + the Secretary; and + ``(B) shall have demonstrated expertise in providing + information and technical support and assistance to + health care providers regarding quality improvement. + + ``(c) Application.-- + ``(1) Technical assistance award.--To receive a technical + assistance grant or contract under subsection (a)(1), an + eligible entity shall submit an application to the Secretary at + such time, in such manner, and containing-- + ``(A) a plan for a sustainable business model that + may include a system of-- + ``(i) charging fees to institutions and + providers that receive technical support from the + entity; and + ``(ii) reducing or eliminating such fees for + such institutions and providers that serve low- + income populations; and + ``(B) such other information as the Director may + require. + ``(2) Implementation award.--To receive a grant or contract + under subsection (a)(2), an eligible entity shall submit an + application to the Secretary at such time, in such manner, and + containing-- + ``(A) a plan for implementation of a model or + practice identified in the research conducted by the + Center including-- + ``(i) financial cost, staffing requirements, + and timeline for implementation; and + ``(ii) pre- and projected post-implementation + quality measure performance data in targeted + improvement areas identified by the Secretary; and + ``(B) such other information as the Director may + require. + + ``(d) Matching Funds.--The Director may not award a grant or +contract under this section to an entity unless the entity agrees that +it will make available (directly or through contributions from other +public or private entities) non-Federal contributions toward the +activities to be carried out under the grant or contract in an amount +equal to $1 for each $5 of Federal funds provided under the grant or +contract. Such non-Federal matching funds may be provided directly or +through donations from public or private entities and may be in cash or +in-kind, fairly evaluated, including plant, equipment, or services. + ``(e) Evaluation.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Director shall evaluate the + performance of each entity that receives a grant or contract + under this section. The evaluation of an entity shall include a + study of-- + ``(A) the success of such entity in achieving the + implementation, by the health care institutions and + providers assisted by such entity, of the models and + practices identified in the research conducted by the + Center under section 933; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 513]] + + ``(B) the perception of the health care institutions + and providers assisted by such entity regarding the + value of the entity; and + ``(C) where practicable, better patient health + outcomes and lower cost resulting from the assistance + provided by such entity. + ``(2) Effect of evaluation. <> --Based + on the outcome of the evaluation of the entity under paragraph + (1), the Director shall determine whether to renew a grant or + contract with such entity under this section. + + ``(f) Coordination.--The entities that receive a grant or contract +under this section shall coordinate with health information technology +regional extension centers under section 3012(c) and the primary care +extension program established under section 399W regarding the +dissemination of quality improvement, system delivery reform, and best +practices information.''. + +SEC. 3502. <> ESTABLISHING + COMMUNITY HEALTH TEAMS TO SUPPORT THE PATIENT-CENTERED + MEDICAL HOME. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services +(referred to in this section as the ``Secretary'') shall establish a +program to provide grants to or enter into contracts with eligible +entities to establish community-based interdisciplinary, +interprofessional teams (referred to in this section as ``health +teams'') to support primary care practices, including obstetrics and +gynecology practices, within the hospital service areas served by the +eligible entities. Grants or contracts shall be used to-- + (1) establish health teams to provide support services to + primary care providers; and + (2) provide capitated payments to primary care providers as + determined by the Secretary. + + (b) Eligible Entities.--To be eligible to receive a grant or +contract under subsection (a), an entity shall-- + (1)(A) be a State or State-designated entity; or + (B) be an Indian tribe or tribal organization, as defined in + section 4 of the Indian Health Care Improvement Act; + (2) <> submit a plan for achieving + long-term financial sustainability within 3 years; + (3) <> submit a plan for incorporating + prevention initiatives and patient education and care management + resources into the delivery of health care that is integrated + with community-based prevention and treatment resources, where + available; + (4) ensure that the health team established by the entity + includes an interdisciplinary, interprofessional team of health + care providers, as determined by the Secretary; such team may + include medical specialists, nurses, pharmacists, nutritionists, + dieticians, social workers, behavioral and mental health + providers (including substance use disorder prevention and + treatment providers), doctors of chiropractic, licensed + complementary and alternative medicine practitioners, and + physicians' assistants; + (5) agree to provide services to eligible individuals with + chronic conditions, as described in section 1945 of the Social + Security Act (as added by section 2703), in accordance with the + payment methodology established under subsection (c) of such + section; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 514]] + + (6) submit to the Secretary an application at such time, in + such manner, and containing such information as the Secretary + may require. + + (c) Requirements for Health Teams.--A health team established +pursuant to a grant or contract under subsection (a) shall-- + (1) establish contractual agreements with primary care + providers to provide support services; + (2) support patient-centered medical homes, defined as a + mode of care that includes-- + (A) personal physicians; + (B) whole person orientation; + (C) coordinated and integrated care; + (D) safe and high-quality care through evidence- + informed medicine, appropriate use of health information + technology, and continuous quality improvements; + (E) expanded access to care; and + (F) payment that recognizes added value from + additional components of patient-centered care; + (3) collaborate with local primary care providers and + existing State and community based resources to coordinate + disease prevention, chronic disease management, transitioning + between health care providers and settings and case management + for patients, including children, with priority given to those + amenable to prevention and with chronic diseases or conditions + identified by the Secretary; + (4) <> in collaboration with local health care + providers, develop and implement interdisciplinary, + interprofessional care plans that integrate clinical and + community preventive and health promotion services for patients, + including children, with a priority given to those amenable to + prevention and with chronic diseases or conditions identified by + the Secretary; + (5) incorporate health care providers, patients, caregivers, + and authorized representatives in program design and oversight; + (6) provide support necessary for local primary care + providers to-- + (A) coordinate and provide access to high-quality + health care services; + (B) coordinate and provide access to preventive and + health promotion services; + (C) provide access to appropriate specialty care and + inpatient services; + (D) provide quality-driven, cost-effective, + culturally appropriate, and patient- and family-centered + health care; + (E) provide access to pharmacist-delivered + medication management services, including medication + reconciliation; + (F) provide coordination of the appropriate use of + complementary and alternative (CAM) services to those + who request such services; + (G) promote effective strategies for treatment + planning, monitoring health outcomes and resource use, + sharing information, treatment decision support, and + organizing care to avoid duplication of service and + other medical management approaches intended to improve + quality and value of health care services; + (H) provide local access to the continuum of health + care services in the most appropriate setting, including + +[[Page 124 STAT. 515]] + + access to individuals that implement the care plans of + patients and coordinate care, such as integrative health + care practitioners; + (I) collect and report data that permits evaluation + of the success of the collaborative effort on patient + outcomes, including collection of data on patient + experience of care, and identification of areas for + improvement; and + (J) establish a coordinated system of early + identification and referral for children at risk for + developmental or behavioral problems such as through the + use of infolines, health information technology, or + other means as determined by the Secretary; + (7) provide 24-hour care management and support during + transitions in care settings including-- + (A) a transitional care program that provides onsite + visits from the care coordinator, assists with the + development of discharge plans and medication + reconciliation upon admission to and discharge from the + hospitals, nursing home, or other institution setting; + (B) discharge planning and counseling support to + providers, patients, caregivers, and authorized + representatives; + (C) assuring that post-discharge care plans include + medication management, as appropriate; + (D) referrals for mental and behavioral health + services, which may include the use of infolines; and + (E) transitional health care needs from adolescence + to adulthood; + (8) serve as a liaison to community prevention and treatment + programs; + (9) demonstrate a capacity to implement and maintain health + information technology that meets the requirements of certified + EHR technology (as defined in section 3000 of the Public Health + Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300jj)) to facilitate coordination among + members of the applicable care team and affiliated primary care + practices; and + (10) <> where applicable, report to the + Secretary information on quality measures used under section + 399JJ of the Public Health Service Act. + + (d) Requirement for Primary Care Providers.--A provider who +contracts with a care team shall-- + (1) <> provide a care plan to the care team + for each patient participant; + (2) <> provide access to participant health + records; and + (3) meet regularly with the care team to ensure integration + of care. + + (e) Reporting to Secretary.--An entity that receives a grant or +contract under subsection (a) shall submit to the Secretary a report +that describes and evaluates, as requested by the Secretary, the +activities carried out by the entity under subsection (c). + (f) Definition of Primary Care.--In this section, the term ``primary +care'' means the provision of integrated, accessible health care +services by clinicians who are accountable for addressing a large +majority of personal health care needs, developing a sustained +partnership with patients, and practicing in the context of family and +community. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 516]] + +SEC. 3503. MEDICATION MANAGEMENT SERVICES IN TREATMENT OF CHRONIC + DISEASE. + + Title IX of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 299 et seq.), +as amended by section 3501, is further amended by inserting after +section 934 the following: + +``SEC. 935. <> GRANTS OR CONTRACTS TO IMPLEMENT + MEDICATION MANAGEMENT SERVICES IN TREATMENT OF CHRONIC + DISEASES. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary, acting through the Patient Safety +Research Center established in section 933 (referred to in this section +as the `Center'), shall establish a program to provide grants or +contracts to eligible entities to implement medication management +(referred to in this section as `MTM') services provided by licensed +pharmacists, as a collaborative, multidisciplinary, inter-professional +approach to the treatment of chronic diseases for targeted individuals, +to improve the quality of care and reduce overall cost in the treatment +of such diseases. <> The Secretary shall commence the +program under this section not later than May 1, 2010. + + ``(b) <> Eligible Entities.--To be eligible to receive +a grant or contract under subsection (a), an entity shall-- + ``(1) provide a setting appropriate for MTM services, as + recommended by the experts described in subsection (e); + ``(2) submit to the Secretary a plan for achieving long-term + financial sustainability; + ``(3) where applicable, submit a plan for coordinating MTM + services through local community health teams established in + section 3502 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act + or in collaboration with primary care extension programs + established in section 399W; + ``(4) submit a plan for meeting the requirements under + subsection (c); and + ``(5) submit to the Secretary such other information as the + Secretary may require. + + ``(c) MTM Services to Targeted Individuals.--The MTM services +provided with the assistance of a grant or contract awarded under +subsection (a) shall, as allowed by State law including applicable +collaborative pharmacy practice agreements, include-- + ``(1) performing or obtaining necessary assessments of the + health and functional status of each patient receiving such MTM + services; + ``(2) formulating a medication treatment plan according to + therapeutic goals agreed upon by the prescriber and the patient + or caregiver or authorized representative of the patient; + ``(3) selecting, initiating, modifying, recommending changes + to, or administering medication therapy; + ``(4) monitoring, which may include access to, ordering, or + performing laboratory assessments, and evaluating the response + of the patient to therapy, including safety and effectiveness; + ``(5) performing an initial comprehensive medication review + to identify, resolve, and prevent medication-related problems, + including adverse drug events, quarterly targeted medication + reviews for ongoing monitoring, and additional followup + interventions on a schedule developed collaboratively with the + prescriber; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 517]] + + ``(6) documenting the care delivered and communicating + essential information about such care, including a summary of + the medication review, and the recommendations of the pharmacist + to other appropriate health care providers of the patient in a + timely fashion; + ``(7) providing education and training designed to enhance + the understanding and appropriate use of the medications by the + patient, caregiver, and other authorized representative; + ``(8) providing information, support services, and resources + and strategies designed to enhance patient adherence with + therapeutic regimens; + ``(9) coordinating and integrating MTM services within the + broader health care management services provided to the patient; + and + ``(10) such other patient care services allowed under + pharmacist scopes of practice in use in other Federal programs + that have implemented MTM services. + + ``(d) Targeted Individuals.--MTM services provided by licensed +pharmacists under a grant or contract awarded under subsection (a) shall +be offered to targeted individuals who-- + ``(1) take 4 or more prescribed medications (including over- + the-counter medications and dietary supplements); + ``(2) take any `high risk' medications; + ``(3) have 2 or more chronic diseases, as identified by the + Secretary; or + ``(4) have undergone a transition of care, or other factors, + as determined by the Secretary, that are likely to create a high + risk of medication-related problems. + + ``(e) Consultation With Experts.--In designing and implementing MTM +services provided under grants or contracts awarded under subsection +(a), the Secretary shall consult with Federal, State, private, public- +private, and academic entities, pharmacy and pharmacist organizations, +health care organizations, consumer advocates, chronic disease groups, +and other stakeholders involved with the research, dissemination, and +implementation of pharmacist-delivered MTM services, as the Secretary +determines appropriate. <> The Secretary, in +collaboration with this group, shall determine whether it is possible to +incorporate rapid cycle process improvement concepts in use in other +Federal programs that have implemented MTM services. + + ``(f) Reporting to the Secretary.--An entity that receives a grant +or contract under subsection (a) shall submit to the Secretary a report +that describes and evaluates, as requested by the Secretary, the +activities carried out under subsection (c), including quality measures +endorsed by the entity with a contract under section 1890 of the Social +Security Act, as determined by the Secretary. + ``(g) Evaluation and Report.--The Secretary shall submit to the +relevant committees of Congress a report which shall-- + ``(1) assess the clinical effectiveness of pharmacist- + provided services under the MTM services program, as compared to + usual care, including an evaluation of whether enrollees + maintained better health with fewer hospitalizations and + emergency room visits than similar patients not enrolled in the + program; + ``(2) assess changes in overall health care resource use by + targeted individuals; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 518]] + + ``(3) assess patient and prescriber satisfaction with MTM + services; + ``(4) assess the impact of patient-cost sharing requirements + on medication adherence and recommendations for modifications; + ``(5) identify and evaluate other factors that may impact + clinical and economic outcomes, including demographic + characteristics, clinical characteristics, and health services + use of the patient, as well as characteristics of the regimen, + pharmacy benefit, and MTM services provided; and + ``(6) evaluate the extent to which participating pharmacists + who maintain a dispensing role have a conflict of interest in + the provision of MTM services, and if such conflict is found, + provide recommendations on how such a conflict might be + appropriately addressed. + + ``(h) Grants or Contracts To Fund Development of Performance +Measures.--The Secretary may, through the quality measure development +program under section 931 of the Public Health Service Act, award grants +or contracts to eligible entities for the purpose of funding the +development of performance measures that assess the use and +effectiveness of medication therapy management services.''. + +SEC. 3504. DESIGN AND IMPLEMENTATION OF REGIONALIZED SYSTEMS FOR + EMERGENCY CARE. + + (a) In General.--Title XII of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 300d et seq.) is amended-- + (1) <> in section 1203-- + (A) in the section heading, by inserting ``for + trauma systems'' after ``grants''; and + (B) in subsection (a), by striking ``Administrator + of the Health Resources and Services Administration'' + and inserting ``Assistant Secretary for Preparedness and + Response''; + (2) by inserting after section 1203 the following: + +``SEC. 1204. <> COMPETITIVE GRANTS FOR + REGIONALIZED SYSTEMS FOR EMERGENCY CARE RESPONSE. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary, acting through the Assistant +Secretary for Preparedness and Response, shall award not fewer than 4 +multiyear contracts or competitive grants to eligible entities to +support pilot projects that design, implement, and evaluate innovative +models of regionalized, comprehensive, and accountable emergency care +and trauma systems. + ``(b) <> Eligible Entity; Region.--In this +section: + ``(1) Eligible entity.--The term `eligible entity' means-- + ``(A) a State or a partnership of 1 or more States + and 1 or more local governments; or + ``(B) an Indian tribe (as defined in section 4 of + the Indian Health Care Improvement Act) or a partnership + of 1 or more Indian tribes. + ``(2) Region.--The term `region' means an area within a + State, an area that lies within multiple States, or a similar + area (such as a multicounty area), as determined by the + Secretary. + ``(3) Emergency services.--The term `emergency services' + includes acute, prehospital, and trauma care. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 519]] + + ``(c) Pilot Projects.--The Secretary shall award a contract or grant +under subsection (a) to an eligible entity that proposes a pilot project +to design, implement, and evaluate an emergency medical and trauma +system that-- + ``(1) coordinates with public health and safety services, + emergency medical services, medical facilities, trauma centers, + and other entities in a region to develop an approach to + emergency medical and trauma system access throughout the + region, including 9-1-1 Public Safety Answering Points and + emergency medical dispatch; + ``(2) includes a mechanism, such as a regional medical + direction or transport communications system, that operates + throughout the region to ensure that the patient is taken to the + medically appropriate facility (whether an initial facility or a + higher-level facility) in a timely fashion; + ``(3) allows for the tracking of prehospital and hospital + resources, including inpatient bed capacity, emergency + department capacity, trauma center capacity, on-call specialist + coverage, ambulance diversion status, and the coordination of + such tracking with regional communications and hospital + destination decisions; and + ``(4) includes a consistent region-wide prehospital, + hospital, and interfacility data management system that-- + ``(A) submits data to the National EMS Information + System, the National Trauma Data Bank, and others; + ``(B) reports data to appropriate Federal and State + databanks and registries; and + ``(C) contains information sufficient to evaluate + key elements of prehospital care, hospital destination + decisions, including initial hospital and interfacility + decisions, and relevant health outcomes of hospital + care. + + ``(d) Application.-- + ``(1) In general.--An eligible entity that seeks a contract + or grant described in subsection (a) shall submit to the + Secretary an application at such time and in such manner as the + Secretary may require. + ``(2) Application information.--Each application shall + include-- + ``(A) an assurance from the eligible entity that the + proposed system-- + ``(i) has been coordinated with the applicable + State Office of Emergency Medical Services (or + equivalent State office); + ``(ii) includes consistent indirect and direct + medical oversight of prehospital, hospital, and + interfacility transport throughout the region; + ``(iii) coordinates prehospital treatment and + triage, hospital destination, and interfacility + transport throughout the region; + ``(iv) includes a categorization or + designation system for special medical facilities + throughout the region that is integrated with + transport and destination protocols; + ``(v) includes a regional medical direction, + patient tracking, and resource allocation system + that supports day-to-day emergency care and surge + capacity and is + +[[Page 124 STAT. 520]] + + integrated with other components of the national + and State emergency preparedness system; and + ``(vi) addresses pediatric concerns related to + integration, planning, preparedness, and + coordination of emergency medical services for + infants, children and adolescents; and + ``(B) such other information as the Secretary may + require. + + ``(e) Requirement of Matching Funds.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary may not make a grant under + this section unless the State (or consortia of States) involved + agrees, with respect to the costs to be incurred by the State + (or consortia) in carrying out the purpose for which such grant + was made, to make available non-Federal contributions (in cash + or in kind under paragraph (2)) toward such costs in an amount + equal to not less than $1 for each $3 of Federal funds provided + in the grant. Such contributions may be made directly or through + donations from public or private entities. + ``(2) Non-federal contributions.--Non-Federal contributions + required in paragraph (1) may be in cash or in kind, fairly + evaluated, including equipment or services (and excluding + indirect or overhead costs). Amounts provided by the Federal + Government, or services assisted or subsidized to any + significant extent by the Federal Government, may not be + included in determining the amount of such non-Federal + contributions. + + ``(f) Priority.--The Secretary shall give priority for the award of +the contracts or grants described in subsection (a) to any eligible +entity that serves a population in a medically underserved area (as +defined in section 330(b)(3)). + ``(g) Report.--Not later than 90 days after the completion of a +pilot project under subsection (a), the recipient of such contract or +grant described in shall submit to the Secretary a report containing the +results of an evaluation of the program, including an identification +of-- + ``(1) the impact of the regional, accountable emergency care + and trauma system on patient health outcomes for various + critical care categories, such as trauma, stroke, cardiac + emergencies, neurological emergencies, and pediatric + emergencies; + ``(2) the system characteristics that contribute to the + effectiveness and efficiency of the program (or lack thereof); + ``(3) methods of assuring the long-term financial + sustainability of the emergency care and trauma system; + ``(4) the State and local legislation necessary to implement + and to maintain the system; + ``(5) the barriers to developing regionalized, accountable + emergency care and trauma systems, as well as the methods to + overcome such barriers; and + ``(6) recommendations on the utilization of available + funding for future regionalization efforts. + + ``(h) Dissemination of Findings.--The <> Secretary shall, as appropriate, disseminate to the +public and to the appropriate Committees of the Congress, the +information contained in a report made under subsection (g).''; and + (3) in <> section 1232-- + (A) in subsection (a), by striking ``appropriated'' + and all that follows through the period at the end and + inserting + +[[Page 124 STAT. 521]] + + ``appropriated $24,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2010 + through 2014.''; and + (B) by inserting after subsection (c) the following: + + ``(d) Authority.--For <> the purpose of +carrying out parts A through C, beginning on the date of enactment of +the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, the Secretary shall +transfer authority in administering grants and related authorities under +such parts from the Administrator of the Health Resources and Services +Administration to the Assistant Secretary for Preparedness and +Response.''. + + (b) Support for Emergency Medicine Research.--Part H of title IV of +the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 289 et seq.) is amended by +inserting after the section 498C the following: + +``SEC. 498D. <> SUPPORT FOR EMERGENCY MEDICINE + RESEARCH. + + ``(a) Emergency Medical Research.--The Secretary shall support +Federal programs administered by the National Institutes of Health, the +Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality, the Health Resources and +Services Administration, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, +and other agencies involved in improving the emergency care system to +expand and accelerate research in emergency medical care systems and +emergency medicine, including-- + ``(1) the basic science of emergency medicine; + ``(2) the model of service delivery and the components of + such models that contribute to enhanced patient health outcomes; + ``(3) the translation of basic scientific research into + improved practice; and + ``(4) the development of timely and efficient delivery of + health services. + + ``(b) Pediatric Emergency Medical Research.--The Secretary shall +support Federal programs administered by the National Institutes of +Health, the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality, the Health +Resources and Services Administration, the Centers for Disease Control +and Prevention, and other agencies to coordinate and expand research in +pediatric emergency medical care systems and pediatric emergency +medicine, including-- + ``(1) an examination of the gaps and opportunities in + pediatric emergency care research and a strategy for the optimal + organization and funding of such research; + ``(2) the role of pediatric emergency services as an + integrated component of the overall health system; + ``(3) system-wide pediatric emergency care planning, + preparedness, coordination, and funding; + ``(4) pediatric training in professional education; and + ``(5) research in pediatric emergency care, specifically on + the efficacy, safety, and health outcomes of medications used + for infants, children, and adolescents in emergency care + settings in order to improve patient safety. + + ``(c) Impact Research.--The Secretary shall support research to +determine the estimated economic impact of, and savings that result +from, the implementation of coordinated emergency care systems. + ``(d) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section such sums as may be necessary for +each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 522]] + +SEC. 3505. TRAUMA CARE CENTERS AND SERVICE AVAILABILITY. + + (a) Trauma Care Centers.-- + (1) Grants for trauma care centers.--Section 1241 of the + Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300d-41) is amended by + striking subsections (a) and (b) and inserting the following: + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary shall establish 3 programs to award +grants to qualified public, nonprofit Indian Health Service, Indian +tribal, and urban Indian trauma centers-- + ``(1) to assist in defraying substantial uncompensated care + costs; + ``(2) to further the core missions of such trauma centers, + including by addressing costs associated with patient + stabilization and transfer, trauma education and outreach, + coordination with local and regional trauma systems, essential + personnel and other fixed costs, and expenses associated with + employee and non-employee physician services; and + ``(3) to provide emergency relief to ensure the continued + and future availability of trauma services. + + ``(b) Minimum Qualifications of Trauma Centers.-- + ``(1) Participation in trauma care system operating under + certain professional guidelines.--Except as provided in + paragraph (2), the Secretary may not award a grant to a trauma + center under subsection (a) unless the trauma center is a + participant in a trauma system that substantially complies with + section 1213. + ``(2) Exemption.--Paragraph (1) shall not apply to trauma + centers that are located in States with no existing trauma care + system. + ``(3) Qualification for substantial uncompensated care + costs.--The Secretary shall award substantial uncompensated care + grants under subsection (a)(1) only to trauma centers meeting at + least 1 of the criteria in 1 of the following 3 categories: + ``(A) Category a.--The criteria for category A are + as follows: + ``(i) At least 40 percent of the visits in the + emergency department of the hospital in which the + trauma center is located were charity or self-pay + patients. + ``(ii) At least 50 percent of the visits in + such emergency department were Medicaid (under + title XIX of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396 et seq.)) and charity and self-pay patients + combined. + ``(B) Category b.--The criteria for category B are + as follows: + ``(i) At least 35 percent of the visits in the + emergency department were charity or self-pay + patients. + ``(ii) At least 50 percent of the visits in + the emergency department were Medicaid and charity + and self-pay patients combined. + ``(C) Category c.--The criteria for category C are + as follows: + ``(i) At least 20 percent of the visits in the + emergency department were charity or self-pay + patients. + ``(ii) At least 30 percent of the visits in + the emergency department were Medicaid and charity + and self-pay patients combined. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 523]] + + ``(4) Trauma centers in 1115 waiver states.--Notwithstanding + paragraph (3), the Secretary may award a substantial + uncompensated care grant to a trauma center under subsection + (a)(1) if the trauma center qualifies for funds under a Low + Income Pool or Safety Net Care Pool established through a waiver + approved under section 1115 of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1315). + ``(5) Designation.--The Secretary may not award a grant to a + trauma center unless such trauma center is verified by the + American College of Surgeons or designated by an equivalent + State or local agency. + + ``(c) Additional Requirements.--The Secretary may not award a grant +to a trauma center under subsection (a)(1) unless such trauma center-- + ``(1) submits <> to the Secretary a plan + satisfactory to the Secretary that demonstrates a continued + commitment to serving trauma patients regardless of their + ability to pay; and + ``(2) has policies in place to assist patients who cannot + pay for part or all of the care they receive, including a + sliding fee scale, and to ensure fair billing and collection + practices.''. + (2) Considerations in making grants.--Section 1242 of the + Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300d-42) is amended by + striking subsections (a) and (b) and inserting the following: + + ``(a) Substantial Uncompensated Care Awards.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall establish an award + basis for each eligible trauma center for grants under section + 1241(a)(1) according to the percentage described in paragraph + (2), subject to the requirements of section 1241(b)(3). + ``(2) Percentages.--The applicable percentages are as + follows: + ``(A) With respect to a category A trauma center, + 100 percent of the uncompensated care costs. + ``(B) With respect to a category B trauma center, + not more than 75 percent of the uncompensated care + costs. + ``(C) With respect to a category C trauma center, + not more than 50 percent of the uncompensated care + costs. + + ``(b) Core Mission Awards.-- + ``(1) In general.--In awarding grants under section + 1241(a)(2), the Secretary shall-- + ``(A) reserve 25 percent of the amount allocated for + core mission awards for Level III and Level IV trauma + centers; and + ``(B) reserve 25 percent of the amount allocated for + core mission awards for large urban Level I and II + trauma centers-- + ``(i) that have at least 1 graduate medical + education fellowship in trauma or trauma related + specialties for which demand is exceeding supply; + ``(ii) for which-- + ``(I) annual uncompensated care + costs exceed $10,000,000; or + ``(II) at least 20 percent of + emergency department visits are charity + or self-pay or Medicaid patients; and + ``(iii) that are not eligible for substantial + uncompensated care awards under section + 1241(a)(1). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 524]] + + ``(c) Emergency Awards.--In awarding grants under section +1241(a)(3), the Secretary shall-- + ``(1) give preference to any application submitted by a + trauma center that provides trauma care in a geographic area in + which the availability of trauma care has significantly + decreased or will significantly decrease if the center is forced + to close or downgrade service or growth in demand for trauma + services exceeds capacity; and + ``(2) reallocate any emergency awards funds not obligated + due to insufficient, or a lack of qualified, applications to the + significant uncompensated care award program.''. + (3) Certain agreements.--Section 1243 of the Public Health + Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300d-43) is amended by striking + subsections (a), (b), and (c) and inserting the following: + + ``(a) Maintenance of Financial Support.--The Secretary may require a +trauma center receiving a grant under section 1241(a) to maintain access +to trauma services at comparable levels to the prior year during the +grant period. + ``(b) Trauma Care Registry.--The Secretary may require the trauma +center receiving a grant under section 1241(a) to provide data to a +national and centralized registry of trauma cases, in accordance with +guidelines developed by the American College of Surgeons, and as the +Secretary may otherwise require.''. + (4) General provisions.--Section 1244 of the Public Health + Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300d-44) is amended by striking + subsections (a), (b), and (c) and inserting the following: + + ``(a) Application.--The Secretary may not award a grant to a trauma +center under section 1241(a) unless such center submits an application +for the grant to the Secretary and the application is in such form, is +made in such manner, and contains such agreements, assurances, and +information as the Secretary determines to be necessary to carry out +this part. + ``(b) Limitation on Duration of Support.--The period <> during which a trauma center receives payments under a +grant under section 1241(a)(3) shall be for 3 fiscal years, except that +the Secretary may waive such requirement for a center and authorize such +center to receive such payments for 1 additional fiscal year. + + ``(c) Limitation on Amount of Grant.--Notwithstanding section +1242(a), a grant under section 1241 may not be made in an amount +exceeding $2,000,000 for each fiscal year. + ``(d) Eligibility.--Except as provided in section +1242(b)(1)(B)(iii), acquisition of, or eligibility for, a grant under +section 1241(a) shall not preclude a trauma center from being eligible +for other grants described in such section. + ``(e) Funding Distribution.--Of the total amount appropriated for a +fiscal year under section 1245, 70 percent shall be used for substantial +uncompensated care awards under section 1241(a)(1), 20 percent shall be +used for core mission awards under section 1241(a)(2), and 10 percent +shall be used for emergency awards under section 1241(a)(3). + ``(f) Minimum Allowance.--Notwithstanding subsection (e), if the +amount appropriated for a fiscal year under section 1245 is less than +$25,000,000, all available funding for such fiscal year shall be used +for substantial uncompensated care awards under section 1241(a)(1). + ``(g) Substantial Uncompensated Care Award Distribution and +Proportional Share.--Notwithstanding section 1242(a), of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 525]] + +the amount appropriated for substantial uncompensated care grants for a +fiscal year, the Secretary shall-- + ``(1) make available-- + ``(A) 50 percent of such funds for category A trauma + center grantees; + ``(B) 35 percent of such funds for category B trauma + center grantees; and + ``(C) 15 percent of such funds for category C trauma + center grantees; and + ``(2) provide available funds within each category in a + manner proportional to the award basis specified in section + 1242(a)(2) to each eligible trauma center. + + ``(h) Report.--Beginning 2 years after the date of enactment of the +Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, and every 2 years +thereafter, the Secretary shall biennially report to Congress regarding +the status of the grants made under section 1241 and on the overall +financial stability of trauma centers.''. + (5) Authorization of appropriations.--Section 1245 of the + Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300d-45) is amended to read + as follows: + +``SEC. 1245. <> AUTHORIZATION OF APPROPRIATIONS. + + ``For the purpose of carrying out this part, there are authorized to +be appropriated $100,000,000 for fiscal year 2009, and such sums as may +be necessary for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2015. Such +authorization of appropriations is in addition to any other +authorization of appropriations or amounts that are available for such +purpose.''. + (6) Definition.--Part D of title XII of the Public Health + Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300d-41 et seq.) is amended by adding at + the end the following: + +``SEC. 1246. <> DEFINITION. + + ``In this part, the term `uncompensated care costs' means +unreimbursed costs from serving self-pay, charity, or Medicaid patients, +without regard to payment under section 1923 of the Social Security Act, +all of which are attributable to emergency care and trauma care, +including costs related to subsequent inpatient admissions to the +hospital.''. + (b) Trauma Service Availability.--Title XII of the Public Health +Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300d et seq.) is amended by adding at the end the +following: + + ``PART H--TRAUMA SERVICE AVAILABILITY + +``SEC. 1281. <> GRANTS TO STATES. + + ``(a) Establishment.--To promote universal access to trauma care +services provided by trauma centers and trauma-related physician +specialties, the Secretary shall provide funding to States to enable +such States to award grants to eligible entities for the purposes +described in this section. + ``(b) Awarding of Grants by States.--Each State may award grants to +eligible entities within the State for the purposes described in +subparagraph (d). + ``(c) Eligibility.-- + ``(1) In general.--To be eligible to receive a grant under + subsection (b) an entity shall-- + ``(A) be-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 526]] + + ``(i) a public or nonprofit trauma center or + consortium thereof that meets that requirements of + paragraphs (1), (2), and (5) of section 1241(b); + ``(ii) a safety net public or nonprofit trauma + center that meets the requirements of paragraphs + (1) through (5) of section 1241(b); or + ``(iii) a hospital in an underserved area (as + defined by the State) that seeks to establish new + trauma services; and + ``(B) submit to the State an application at such + time, in such manner, and containing such information as + the State may require. + ``(2) Limitation.--A State shall use at least 40 percent of + the amount available to the State under this part for a fiscal + year to award grants to safety net trauma centers described in + paragraph (1)(A)(ii). + + ``(d) Use of Funds.--The recipient of a grant under subsection (b) +shall carry out 1 or more of the following activities consistent with +subsection (b): + ``(1) Providing trauma centers with funding to support + physician compensation in trauma-related physician specialties + where shortages exist in the region involved, with priority + provided to safety net trauma centers described in subsection + (c)(1)(A)(ii). + ``(2) Providing for individual safety net trauma center + fiscal stability and costs related to having service that is + available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, with priority provided + to safety net trauma centers described in subsection + (c)(1)(A)(ii) located in urban, border, and rural areas. + ``(3) Reducing trauma center overcrowding at specific trauma + centers related to throughput of trauma patients. + ``(4) Establishing new trauma services in underserved areas + as defined by the State. + ``(5) Enhancing collaboration between trauma centers and + other hospitals and emergency medical services personnel related + to trauma service availability. + ``(6) Making capital improvements to enhance access and + expedite trauma care, including providing helipads and + associated safety infrastructure. + ``(7) Enhancing trauma surge capacity at specific trauma + centers. + ``(8) Ensuring expedient receipt of trauma patients + transported by ground or air to the appropriate trauma center. + ``(9) Enhancing interstate trauma center collaboration. + + ``(e) Limitation.-- + ``(1) In general.--A State may use not more than 20 percent + of the amount available to the State under this part for a + fiscal year for administrative costs associated with awarding + grants and related costs. + ``(2) Maintenance of effort.--The Secretary may not provide + funding to a State under this part unless the State agrees that + such funds will be used to supplement and not supplant State + funding otherwise available for the activities and costs + described in this part. + + ``(f) Distribution of Funds.--The <> following +shall apply with respect to grants provided in this part: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 527]] + + ``(1) Less than $10,000,000.--If the amount of + appropriations for this part in a fiscal year is less than + $10,000,000, the Secretary shall divide such funding evenly + among only those States that have 1 or more trauma centers + eligible for funding under section 1241(b)(3)(A). + ``(2) Less than $20,000,000.--If the amount of + appropriations in a fiscal year is less than $20,000,000, the + Secretary shall divide such funding evenly among only those + States that have 1 or more trauma centers eligible for funding + under subparagraphs (A) and (B) of section 1241(b)(3). + ``(3) Less than $30,000,000.--If the amount of + appropriations for this part in a fiscal year is less than + $30,000,000, the Secretary shall divide such funding evenly + among only those States that have 1 or more trauma centers + eligible for funding under section 1241(b)(3). + ``(4) $30,000,000 or more.--If the amount of appropriations + for this part in a fiscal year is $30,000,000 or more, the + Secretary shall divide such funding evenly among all States. + +``SEC. 1282. <> AUTHORIZATION OF APPROPRIATIONS. + + ``For the purpose of carrying out this part, there is authorized to +be appropriated $100,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2010 through +2015.''. + +SEC. 3506. PROGRAM TO FACILITATE SHARED DECISIONMAKING. + + Part D of title IX of the Public Health Service Act, as amended by +section 3503, is further amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 936. <> PROGRAM TO FACILITATE SHARED + DECISIONMAKING. + + ``(a) Purpose.--The purpose of this section is to facilitate +collaborative processes between patients, caregivers or authorized +representatives, and clinicians that engages the patient, caregiver or +authorized representative in decisionmaking, provides patients, +caregivers or authorized representatives with information about trade- +offs among treatment options, and facilitates the incorporation of +patient preferences and values into the medical plan. + ``(b) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Patient decision aid.--The term `patient decision aid' + means an educational tool that helps patients, caregivers or + authorized representatives understand and communicate their + beliefs and preferences related to their treatment options, and + to decide with their health care provider what treatments are + best for them based on their treatment options, scientific + evidence, circumstances, beliefs, and preferences. + ``(2) Preference sensitive care.--The term `preference + sensitive care' means medical care for which the clinical + evidence does not clearly support one treatment option such that + the appropriate course of treatment depends on the values of the + patient or the preferences of the patient, caregivers or + authorized representatives regarding the benefits, harms and + scientific evidence for each treatment option, the use of such + care should depend on the informed patient choice among + clinically appropriate treatment options. + + ``(c) Establishment of Independent Standards for Patient Decision +Aids for Preference Sensitive Care.-- + ``(1) Contract with entity to establish standards and + certify patient decision aids.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 528]] + + ``(A) In general.--For purposes of supporting + consensus-based standards for patient decision aids for + preference sensitive care and a certification process + for patient decision aids for use in the Federal health + programs and by other interested parties, the Secretary + shall have in effect a contract with the entity with a + contract under section 1890 of the Social Security Act. + Such contract shall provide that the entity perform the + duties described in paragraph (2). + ``(B) Timing for first contract.--As soon as + practicable after the date of the enactment of this + section, the Secretary shall enter into the first + contract under subparagraph (A). + ``(C) Period of contract.--A contract under + subparagraph (A) shall be for a period of 18 months + (except such contract may be renewed after a subsequent + bidding process). + ``(2) Duties.--The following duties are described in this + paragraph: + ``(A) Develop and identify standards for patient + decision aids.--The entity shall synthesize evidence and + convene a broad range of experts and key stakeholders to + develop and identify consensus-based standards to + evaluate patient decision aids for preference sensitive + care. + ``(B) Endorse patient decision aids.--The entity + shall review patient decision aids and develop a + certification process whether patient decision aids meet + the standards developed and identified under + subparagraph (A). The entity shall give priority to the + review and certification of patient decision aids for + preference sensitive care. + + ``(d) Program <> To Develop, Update and +Patient Decision Aids To Assist Health Care Providers and Patients.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary, acting through the + Director, and in coordination with heads of other relevant + agencies, such as the Director of the Centers for Disease + Control and Prevention and the Director of the National + Institutes of Health, shall establish a program to award grants + or contracts-- + ``(A) to develop, update, and produce patient + decision aids for preference sensitive care to assist + health care providers in educating patients, caregivers, + and authorized representatives concerning the relative + safety, relative effectiveness (including possible + health outcomes and impact on functional status), and + relative cost of treatment or, where appropriate, + palliative care options; + ``(B) to test such materials to ensure such + materials are balanced and evidence based in aiding + health care providers and patients, caregivers, and + authorized representatives to make informed decisions + about patient care and can be easily incorporated into a + broad array of practice settings; and + ``(C) to educate providers on the use of such + materials, including through academic curricula. + ``(2) Requirements for patient decision aids.--Patient + decision aids developed and produced pursuant to a grant or + contract under paragraph (1)-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 529]] + + ``(A) shall be designed to engage patients, + caregivers, and authorized representatives in informed + decisionmaking with health care providers; + ``(B) shall present up-to-date clinical evidence + about the risks and benefits of treatment options in a + form and manner that is age-appropriate and can be + adapted for patients, caregivers, and authorized + representatives from a variety of cultural and + educational backgrounds to reflect the varying needs of + consumers and diverse levels of health literacy; + ``(C) shall, where appropriate, explain why there is + a lack of evidence to support one treatment option over + another; and + ``(D) shall address health care decisions across the + age span, including those affecting vulnerable + populations including children. + ``(3) Distribution.--The Director shall ensure that patient + decision aids produced with grants or contracts under this + section are available to the public. + ``(4) Nonduplication of efforts.--The Director shall ensure + that the activities under this section of the Agency and other + agencies, including the Centers for Disease Control and + Prevention and the National Institutes of Health, are free of + unnecessary duplication of effort. + + ``(e) Grants To Support Shared Decisionmaking Implementation.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall establish a program + to provide for the phased-in development, implementation, and + evaluation of shared decisionmaking using patient decision aids + to meet the objective of improving the understanding of patients + of their medical treatment options. + ``(2) Shared decisionmaking resource centers.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall provide + grants for the establishment and support of Shared + Decisionmaking Resource Centers (referred to in this + subsection as `Centers') to provide technical assistance + to providers and to develop and disseminate best + practices and other information to support and + accelerate adoption, implementation, and effective use + of patient decision aids and shared decisionmaking by + providers. + ``(B) Objectives.--The objective of a Center is to + enhance and promote the adoption of patient decision + aids and shared decisionmaking through-- + ``(i) providing assistance to eligible + providers with the implementation and effective + use of, and training on, patient decision aids; + and + ``(ii) the dissemination of best practices and + research on the implementation and effective use + of patient decision aids. + ``(3) Shared decisionmaking participation grants.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall provide + grants to health care providers for the development and + implementation of shared decisionmaking techniques and + to assess the use of such techniques. + ``(B) Preference.--In order to facilitate the use of + best practices, the Secretary shall provide a preference + in making grants under this subsection to health care + +[[Page 124 STAT. 530]] + + providers who participate in training by Shared + Decisionmaking Resource Centers or comparable training. + ``(C) Limitation.--Funds under this paragraph shall + not be used to purchase or implement use of patient + decision aids other than those certified under the + process identified in subsection (c). + ``(4) Guidance.--The Secretary may issue guidance to + eligible grantees under this subsection on the use of patient + decision aids. + + ``(f) Funding.--For purposes of carrying out this section there are +authorized to be appropriated such sums as may be necessary for fiscal +year 2010 and each subsequent fiscal year.''. + +SEC. 3507. PRESENTATION <> OF PRESCRIPTION DRUG + BENEFIT AND RISK INFORMATION. + + (a) In General.--The <> Secretary of Health +and Human Services (referred to in this section as the ``Secretary''), +acting through the Commissioner of Food and Drugs, shall determine +whether the addition of quantitative summaries of the benefits and risks +of prescription drugs in a standardized format (such as a table or drug +facts box) to the promotional labeling or print advertising of such +drugs would improve health care decisionmaking by clinicians and +patients and consumers. + + (b) Review and Consultation.--In making the determination under +subsection (a), the Secretary shall review all available scientific +evidence and research on decisionmaking and social and cognitive +psychology and consult with drug manufacturers, clinicians, patients and +consumers, experts in health literacy, representatives of racial and +ethnic minorities, and experts in women's and pediatric health. + (c) Report.--Not later than 1 year after the date of enactment of +this Act, the Secretary shall submit to Congress a report that +provides-- + (1) the determination by the Secretary under subsection (a); + and + (2) the reasoning and analysis underlying that + determination. + + (d) Authority.--If the <> Secretary +determines under subsection (a) that the addition of quantitative +summaries of the benefits and risks of prescription drugs in a +standardized format (such as a table or drug facts box) to the +promotional labeling or print advertising of such drugs would improve +health care decisionmaking by clinicians and patients and consumers, +then the Secretary, not later than 3 years after the date of submission +of the report under subsection (c), shall promulgate proposed +regulations as necessary to implement such format. + + (e) Clarification.--Nothing in this section shall be construed to +restrict the existing authorities of the Secretary with respect to +benefit and risk information. + +SEC. 3508. DEMONSTRATION <> PROGRAM TO INTEGRATE + QUALITY IMPROVEMENT AND PATIENT SAFETY TRAINING INTO + CLINICAL EDUCATION OF HEALTH PROFESSIONALS. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary may award grants to eligible entities +or consortia under this section to carry out demonstration projects to +develop and implement academic curricula that integrates quality +improvement and patient safety in the clinical + +[[Page 124 STAT. 531]] + +education of health professionals. Such awards shall be made on a +competitive basis and pursuant to peer review. + (b) Eligibility.--To be eligible to receive a grant under subsection +(a), an entity or consortium shall-- + (1) submit to the Secretary an application at such time, in + such manner, and containing such information as the Secretary + may require; + (2) be or include-- + (A) a health professions school; + (B) a school of public health; + (C) a school of social work; + (D) a school of nursing; + (E) a school of pharmacy; + (F) an institution with a graduate medical education + program; or + (G) a school of health care administration; + (3) collaborate in the development of curricula described in + subsection (a) with an organization that accredits such school + or institution; + (4) provide for the collection of data regarding the + effectiveness of the demonstration project; and + (5) provide matching funds in accordance with subsection + (c). + + (c) Matching Funds.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary may award a grant to an + entity or consortium under this section only if the entity or + consortium agrees to make available non-Federal contributions + toward the costs of the program to be funded under the grant in + an amount that is not less than $1 for each $5 of Federal funds + provided under the grant. + (2) Determination of amount contributed.--Non-Federal + contributions under paragraph (1) may be in cash or in-kind, + fairly evaluated, including equipment or services. Amounts + provided by the Federal Government, or services assisted or + subsidized to any significant extent by the Federal Government, + may not be included in determining the amount of such + contributions. + + (d) Evaluation.--The <> Secretary shall take such action as may be necessary to +evaluate the projects funded under this section and publish, make +publicly available, and disseminate the results of such evaluations on +as wide a basis as is practicable. + + (e) Reports.--Not later than 2 years after the date of enactment of +this section, and annually thereafter, the Secretary shall submit to the +Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions and the Committee on +Finance of the Senate and the Committee on Energy and Commerce and the +Committee on Ways and Means of the House of Representatives a report +that-- + (1) describes the specific projects supported under this + section; and + (2) contains recommendations for Congress based on the + evaluation conducted under subsection (d). + +SEC. 3509. IMPROVING WOMEN'S HEALTH. + + (a) Health and Human Services Office on Women's Health.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 532]] + + (1) Establishment.--Part A of title II of the Public Health + Service Act (42 U.S.C. 202 et seq.) is amended by adding at the + end the following: + +``SEC. 229. HEALTH <> AND HUMAN SERVICES OFFICE ON + WOMEN'S HEALTH. + + ``(a) Establishment of Office.--There is established within the +Office of the Secretary, an Office on Women's Health (referred to in +this section as the `Office'). The Office shall be headed by a Deputy +Assistant Secretary for Women's Health who may report to the Secretary. + ``(b) Duties.--The Secretary, acting through the Office, with +respect to the health concerns of women, shall-- + ``(1) establish short-range and long-range goals and + objectives within the Department of Health and Human Services + and, as relevant and appropriate, coordinate with other + appropriate offices on activities within the Department that + relate to disease prevention, health promotion, service + delivery, research, and public and health care professional + education, for issues of particular concern to women throughout + their lifespan; + ``(2) provide expert advice and consultation to the + Secretary concerning scientific, legal, ethical, and policy + issues relating to women's health; + ``(3) monitor the Department of Health and Human Services' + offices, agencies, and regional activities regarding women's + health and identify needs regarding the coordination of + activities, including intramural and extramural + multidisciplinary activities; + ``(4) establish a Department of Health and Human Services + Coordinating Committee on Women's Health, which shall be chaired + by the Deputy Assistant Secretary for Women's Health and + composed of senior level representatives from each of the + agencies and offices of the Department of Health and Human + Services; + ``(5) establish <> a National Women's + Health Information Center to-- + ``(A) facilitate the exchange of information + regarding matters relating to health information, health + promotion, preventive health services, research + advances, and education in the appropriate use of health + care; + ``(B) facilitate access to such information; + ``(C) assist in the analysis of issues and problems + relating to the matters described in this paragraph; and + ``(D) provide technical assistance with respect to + the exchange of information (including facilitating the + development of materials for such technical assistance); + ``(6) coordinate efforts to promote women's health programs + and policies with the private sector; and + ``(7) through publications and any other means appropriate, + provide for the exchange of information between the Office and + recipients of grants, contracts, and agreements under subsection + (c), and between the Office and health professionals and the + general public. + + ``(c) Grants and Contracts Regarding Duties.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 533]] + + ``(1) Authority.--In carrying out subsection (b), the + Secretary may make grants to, and enter into cooperative + agreements, contracts, and interagency agreements with, public + and private entities, agencies, and organizations. + ``(2) Evaluation and dissemination.--The Secretary shall + directly or through contracts with public and private entities, + agencies, and organizations, provide for evaluations of projects + carried out with financial assistance provided under paragraph + (1) and for the dissemination of information developed as a + result of such projects. + + ``(d) Reports.--Not later than 1 year after the date of enactment of +this section, and every second year thereafter, the Secretary shall +prepare and submit to the appropriate committees of Congress a report +describing the activities carried out under this section during the +period for which the report is being prepared. + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriations.--For the purpose of carrying +out this section, there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as +may be necessary for each of the fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + (2) Transfer of functions.--There <> are transferred to the Office on Women's Health + (established under section 229 of the Public Health Service Act, + as added by this section), all functions exercised by the Office + on Women's Health of the Public Health Service prior to the date + of enactment of this section, including all personnel and + compensation authority, all delegation and assignment authority, + and all remaining appropriations. All orders, determinations, + rules, regulations, permits, agreements, grants, contracts, + certificates, licenses, registrations, privileges, and other + administrative actions that-- + (A) have been issued, made, granted, or allowed to + become effective by the President, any Federal agency or + official thereof, or by a court of competent + jurisdiction, in the performance of functions + transferred under this paragraph; and + (B) are in effect at the time this section takes + effect, or were final before the date of enactment of + this section and are to become effective on or after + such date, + shall continue in effect according to their terms until + modified, terminated, superseded, set aside, or revoked in + accordance with law by the President, the Secretary, or other + authorized official, a court of competent jurisdiction, or by + operation of law. + + (b) Centers for Disease Control and Prevention Office of Women's +Health.--Part A of title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +241 et seq.) is amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 310A. CENTERS <> FOR DISEASE CONTROL AND + PREVENTION OFFICE OF WOMEN'S HEALTH. + + ``(a) Establishment.--There is established within the Office of the +Director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, an office to +be known as the Office of Women's Health (referred to in this section as +the `Office'). The Office shall be headed by a director who shall be +appointed by the Director of such Centers. + ``(b) Purpose.--The Director of the Office shall-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 534]] + + ``(1) report to the Director of the Centers for Disease + Control and Prevention on the current level of the Centers' + activity regarding women's health conditions across, where + appropriate, age, biological, and sociocultural contexts, in all + aspects of the Centers' work, including prevention programs, + public and professional education, services, and treatment; + ``(2) establish short-range and long-range goals and + objectives within the Centers for women's health and, as + relevant and appropriate, coordinate with other appropriate + offices on activities within the Centers that relate to + prevention, research, education and training, service delivery, + and policy development, for issues of particular concern to + women; + ``(3) identify projects in women's health that should be + conducted or supported by the Centers; + ``(4) consult with health professionals, nongovernmental + organizations, consumer organizations, women's health + professionals, and other individuals and groups, as appropriate, + on the policy of the Centers with regard to women; and + ``(5) serve as a member of the Department of Health and + Human Services Coordinating Committee on Women's Health + (established under section 229(b)(4)). + + ``(c) Definition.--As used in this section, the term `women's health +conditions', with respect to women of all age, ethnic, and racial +groups, means diseases, disorders, and conditions-- + ``(1) unique to, significantly more serious for, or + significantly more prevalent in women; and + ``(2) for which the factors of medical risk or type of + medical intervention are different for women, or for which there + is reasonable evidence that indicates that such factors or types + may be different for women. + + ``(d) Authorization of Appropriations.--For the purpose of carrying +out this section, there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as +may be necessary for each of the fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + (c) Office of Women's Health Research.--Section 486(a) of the Public +Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 287d(a)) is amended by inserting ``and who +shall report directly to the Director'' before the period at the end +thereof. + (d) Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration.-- +Section 501(f) of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 290aa(f)) is +amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1), by inserting ``who shall report + directly to the Administrator'' before the period; + (2) by redesignating paragraph (4) as paragraph (5); and + (3) by inserting after paragraph (3), the following: + ``(4) Office.--Nothing in this subsection shall be construed + to preclude the Secretary from establishing within the Substance + Abuse and Mental Health Administration an Office of Women's + Health.''. + + (e) Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality Activities Regarding +Women's Health.--Part <> C of title IX +of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 299c et seq.) is amended-- + (1) by redesignating sections 925 and 926 as sections 926 + and 927, respectively; and + (2) by inserting after section 924 the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 535]] + +``SEC. 925. <> ACTIVITIES REGARDING WOMEN'S + HEALTH. + + ``(a) Establishment.--There is established within the Office of the +Director, an Office of Women's Health and Gender-Based Research +(referred to in this section as the `Office'). The Office shall be +headed by a director who shall be appointed by the Director of +Healthcare and Research Quality. + ``(b) Purpose.--The official designated under subsection (a) shall-- + ``(1) report to the Director on the current Agency level of + activity regarding women's health, across, where appropriate, + age, biological, and sociocultural contexts, in all aspects of + Agency work, including the development of evidence reports and + clinical practice protocols and the conduct of research into + patient outcomes, delivery of health care services, quality of + care, and access to health care; + ``(2) establish short-range and long-range goals and + objectives within the Agency for research important to women's + health and, as relevant and appropriate, coordinate with other + appropriate offices on activities within the Agency that relate + to health services and medical effectiveness research, for + issues of particular concern to women; + ``(3) identify projects in women's health that should be + conducted or supported by the Agency; + ``(4) consult with health professionals, nongovernmental + organizations, consumer organizations, women's health + professionals, and other individuals and groups, as appropriate, + on Agency policy with regard to women; and + ``(5) serve as a member of the Department of Health and + Human Services Coordinating Committee on Women's Health + (established under section 229(b)(4)).''. + + ``(c) Authorization of Appropriations.--For the purpose of carrying +out this section, there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as +may be necessary for each of the fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + (f) Health Resources and Services Administration Office of Women's +Health.--Title VII of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 901 et seq.) is +amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 713. OFFICE <> OF WOMEN'S HEALTH. + + ``(a) Establishment.--The Secretary shall establish within the +Office of the Administrator of the Health Resources and Services +Administration, an office to be known as the Office of Women's Health. +The Office shall be headed by a director who shall be appointed by the +Administrator. + ``(b) Purpose.--The Director of the Office shall-- + ``(1) report to the Administrator on the current + Administration level of activity regarding women's health + across, where appropriate, age, biological, and sociocultural + contexts; + ``(2) establish short-range and long-range goals and + objectives within the Health Resources and Services + Administration for women's health and, as relevant and + appropriate, coordinate with other appropriate offices on + activities within the Administration that relate to health care + provider training, health service delivery, research, and + demonstration projects, for issues of particular concern to + women; + ``(3) identify projects in women's health that should be + conducted or supported by the bureaus of the Administration; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 536]] + + ``(4) consult with health professionals, nongovernmental + organizations, consumer organizations, women's health + professionals, and other individuals and groups, as appropriate, + on Administration policy with regard to women; and + ``(5) serve as a member of the Department of Health and + Human Services Coordinating Committee on Women's Health + (established under section 229(b)(4) of the Public Health + Service Act). + + ``(c) Continued Administration of Existing Programs.--The Director +of the Office shall assume the authority for the development, +implementation, administration, and evaluation of any projects carried +out through the Health Resources and Services Administration relating to +women's health on the date of enactment of this section. + ``(d) Definitions.--For purposes of this section: + ``(1) Administration.--The term `Administration' means the + Health Resources and Services Administration. + ``(2) Administrator.--The term `Administrator' means the + Administrator of the Health Resources and Services + Administration. + ``(3) Office.--The term `Office' means the Office of Women's + Health established under this section in the Administration. + + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriations.--For the purpose of carrying +out this section, there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as +may be necessary for each of the fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + (g) Food and Drug Administration Office of Women's Health.--Chapter +X of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 391 et seq.) is +amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 1011. OFFICE <> OF WOMEN'S HEALTH. + + ``(a) Establishment.--There is established within the Office of the +Commissioner, an office to be known as the Office of Women's Health +(referred to in this section as the `Office'). The Office shall be +headed by a director who shall be appointed by the Commissioner of Food +and Drugs. + ``(b) Purpose.--The Director of the Office shall-- + ``(1) report to the Commissioner of Food and Drugs on + current Food and Drug Administration (referred to in this + section as the `Administration') levels of activity regarding + women's participation in clinical trials and the analysis of + data by sex in the testing of drugs, medical devices, and + biological products across, where appropriate, age, biological, + and sociocultural contexts; + ``(2) establish short-range and long-range goals and + objectives within the Administration for issues of particular + concern to women's health within the jurisdiction of the + Administration, including, where relevant and appropriate, + adequate inclusion of women and analysis of data by sex in + Administration protocols and policies; + ``(3) provide information to women and health care providers + on those areas in which differences between men and women exist; + ``(4) consult with pharmaceutical, biologics, and device + manufacturers, health professionals with expertise in women's + +[[Page 124 STAT. 537]] + + issues, consumer organizations, and women's health professionals + on Administration policy with regard to women; + ``(5) make annual estimates of funds needed to monitor + clinical trials and analysis of data by sex in accordance with + needs that are identified; and + ``(6) serve as a member of the Department of Health and + Human Services Coordinating Committee on Women's Health + (established under section 229(b)(4) of the Public Health + Service Act). + + ``(c) Authorization of Appropriations.--For the purpose of carrying +out this section, there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as +may be necessary for each of the fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + (h) No New Regulatory <> Authority.-- +Nothing in this section and the amendments made by this section may be +construed as establishing regulatory authority or modifying any existing +regulatory authority. + + (i) Limitation on <> Termination.-- +Notwithstanding any other provision of law, a Federal office of women's +health (including the Office of Research on Women's Health of the +National Institutes of Health) or Federal appointive position with +primary responsibility over women's health issues (including the +Associate Administrator for Women's Services under the Substance Abuse +and Mental Health Services Administration) that is in existence on the +date of enactment of this section shall not be terminated, reorganized, +or have any of it's powers or duties transferred unless such +termination, reorganization, or transfer is approved by Congress through +the adoption of a concurrent resolution of approval. + + (j) Rule of <> Construction.--Nothing in +this section (or the amendments made by this section) shall be construed +to limit the authority of the Secretary of Health and Human Services +with respect to women's health, or with respect to activities carried +out through the Department of Health and Human Services on the date of +enactment of this section. + +SEC. 3510. PATIENT NAVIGATOR PROGRAM. + + Section 340A of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 256a) is +amended-- + (1) by striking subsection (d)(3) and inserting the + following: + ``(3) Limitations on grant period.--In carrying out this + section, the Secretary shall ensure that the total period of a + grant does not exceed 4 years.''; + (2) in subsection (e), by adding at the end the following: + ``(3) Minimum core proficiencies.--The Secretary shall not + award a grant to an entity under this section unless such entity + provides assurances that patient navigators recruited, assigned, + trained, or employed using grant funds meet minimum core + proficiencies, as defined by the entity that submits the + application, that are tailored for the main focus or + intervention of the navigator involved.''; and + (3) in subsection (m)-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking ``and $3,500,000 + for fiscal year 2010.'' and inserting ``$3,500,000 for + fiscal year 2010, and such sums as may be necessary for + each of fiscal years 2011 through 2015.''; and + (B) in paragraph (2), by striking ``2010'' and + inserting ``2015''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 538]] + +SEC. 3511. AUTHORIZATION OF APPROPRIATIONS. + + Except where otherwise provided in this subtitle (or an amendment +made by this subtitle), there is authorized to be appropriated such sums +as may be necessary to carry out this subtitle (and such amendments made +by this subtitle). + + Subtitle G--Protecting and Improving Guaranteed Medicare Benefits + +SEC. 3601. PROTECTING <> AND IMPROVING + GUARANTEED MEDICARE BENEFITS. + + (a) Protecting Guaranteed Medicare Benefits.--Nothing in the +provisions of, or amendments made by, this Act shall result in a +reduction of guaranteed benefits under title XVIII of the Social +Security Act. + (b) Ensuring That Medicare Savings Benefit the Medicare Program and +Medicare Beneficiaries.--Savings generated for the Medicare program +under title XVIII of the Social Security Act under the provisions of, +and amendments made by, this Act shall extend the solvency of the +Medicare trust funds, reduce Medicare premiums and other cost-sharing +for beneficiaries, and improve or expand guaranteed Medicare benefits +and protect access to Medicare providers. + +SEC. 3602. NO <> CUTS IN GUARANTEED + BENEFITS. + + Nothing in this Act shall result in the reduction or elimination of +any benefits guaranteed by law to participants in Medicare Advantage +plans. + + TITLE IV--PREVENTION OF CHRONIC DISEASE AND IMPROVING PUBLIC HEALTH + + Subtitle A--Modernizing Disease Prevention and Public Health Systems + +SEC. 4001. NATIONAL <> PREVENTION, HEALTH + PROMOTION AND PUBLIC HEALTH COUNCIL. + + (a) Establishment.--The President <> shall +establish, within the Department of Health and Human Services, a council +to be known as the ``National Prevention, Health Promotion and Public +Health Council'' (referred to in this section as the ``Council''). + + (b) Chairperson.--The +President <> shall appoint the Surgeon +General to serve as the chairperson of the Council. + + (c) Composition.--The Council shall be composed of-- + (1) the Secretary of Health and Human Services; + (2) the Secretary of Agriculture; + (3) the Secretary of Education; + (4) the Chairman of the Federal Trade Commission; + (5) the Secretary of Transportation; + (6) the Secretary of Labor; + (7) the Secretary of Homeland Security; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 539]] + + (8) the Administrator of the Environmental Protection + Agency; + (9) the Director of the Office of National Drug Control + Policy; + (10) the Director of the Domestic Policy Council; + (11) the Assistant Secretary for Indian Affairs; + (12) the Chairman of the Corporation for National and + Community Service; and + (13) the head of any other Federal agency that the + chairperson determines is appropriate. + + (d) Purposes and Duties.--The Council shall-- + (1) provide coordination and leadership at the Federal + level, and among all Federal departments and agencies, with + respect to prevention, wellness and health promotion practices, + the public health system, and integrative health care in the + United States; + (2) after obtaining input from relevant stakeholders, + develop a national prevention, health promotion, public health, + and integrative health care strategy that incorporates the most + effective and achievable means of improving the health status of + Americans and reducing the incidence of preventable illness and + disability in the United States; + (3) provide recommendations to the President and Congress + concerning the most pressing health issues confronting the + United States and changes in Federal policy to achieve national + wellness, health promotion, and public health goals, including + the reduction of tobacco use, sedentary behavior, and poor + nutrition; + (4) consider and propose evidence-based models, policies, + and innovative approaches for the promotion of transformative + models of prevention, integrative health, and public health on + individual and community levels across the United States; + (5) establish processes for continual public input, + including input from State, regional, and local leadership + communities and other relevant stakeholders, including Indian + tribes and tribal organizations; + (6) submit the reports required under subsection (g); and + (7) carry out other activities determined appropriate by the + President. + + (e) Meetings.--The Council shall meet at the call of the +Chairperson. + (f) Advisory <> Group.-- + (1) In general.--The <> President + shall establish an Advisory Group to the Council to be known as + the ``Advisory Group on Prevention, Health Promotion, and + Integrative and Public Health'' (hereafter referred to in this + section as the ``Advisory Group''). The Advisory Group shall be + within the Department of Health and Human Services and report to + the Surgeon General. + (2) Composition.-- + (A) In general.--The Advisory Group shall be + composed of not more than 25 non-Federal members to be + appointed by the President. + (B) Representation.--In appointing members under + subparagraph (A), the President shall ensure that the + Advisory Group includes a diverse group of licensed + health + +[[Page 124 STAT. 540]] + + professionals, including integrative health + practitioners who have expertise in-- + (i) worksite health promotion; + (ii) community services, including community + health centers; + (iii) preventive medicine; + (iv) health coaching; + (v) public health education; + (vi) geriatrics; and + (vii) rehabilitation medicine. + (3) Purposes and duties.--The Advisory Group shall develop + policy and program recommendations and advise the Council on + lifestyle-based chronic disease prevention and management, + integrative health care practices, and health promotion. + + (g) National Prevention and Health Promotion Strategy.-- +Not <> later than 1 year after the +date of enactment of this Act, the Chairperson, in consultation with the +Council, shall develop and make public a national prevention, health +promotion and public health strategy, and shall review and revise such +strategy periodically. Such strategy shall-- + (1) set specific goals and objectives for improving the + health of the United States through federally-supported + prevention, health promotion, and public health programs, + consistent with ongoing goal setting efforts conducted by + specific agencies; + (2) establish specific and measurable actions and timelines + to carry out the strategy, and determine accountability for + meeting those timelines, within and across Federal departments + and agencies; and + (3) make recommendations to improve Federal efforts relating + to prevention, health promotion, public health, and integrative + health care practices to ensure Federal efforts are consistent + with available standards and evidence. + + (h) Report.--Not later than July 1, 2010, and annually thereafter +through January 1, 2015, the Council shall submit to the President and +the relevant committees of Congress, a report that-- + (1) describes the activities and efforts on prevention, + health promotion, and public health and activities to develop a + national strategy conducted by the Council during the period for + which the report is prepared; + (2) describes the national progress in meeting specific + prevention, health promotion, and public health goals defined in + the strategy and further describes corrective actions + recommended by the Council and taken by relevant agencies and + organizations to meet these goals; + (3) contains a list of national priorities on health + promotion and disease prevention to address lifestyle behavior + modification (smoking cessation, proper nutrition, appropriate + exercise, mental health, behavioral health, substance use + disorder, and domestic violence screenings) and the prevention + measures for the 5 leading disease killers in the United States; + (4) contains specific science-based initiatives to achieve + the measurable goals of Healthy People 2010 regarding nutrition, + exercise, and smoking cessation, and targeting the 5 leading + disease killers in the United States; + (5) contains specific plans for consolidating Federal health + programs and Centers that exist to promote healthy behavior + +[[Page 124 STAT. 541]] + + and reduce disease risk (including eliminating programs and + offices determined to be ineffective in meeting the priority + goals of Healthy People 2010); + (6) contains specific plans to ensure that all Federal + health care programs are fully coordinated with science-based + prevention recommendations by the Director of the Centers for + Disease Control and Prevention; and + (7) contains specific plans to ensure that all non- + Department of Health and Human Services prevention programs are + based on the science-based guidelines developed by the Centers + for Disease Control and Prevention under paragraph (4). + + (i) Periodic Reviews.--The +Secretary <> and the Comptroller General +of the United States shall jointly conduct periodic reviews, not less +than every 5 years, and evaluations of every Federal disease prevention +and health promotion initiative, program, and agency. Such <> reviews shall be evaluated based on effectiveness in meeting +metrics-based goals with an analysis posted on such agencies' public +Internet websites. + +SEC. 4002. PREVENTION <> AND PUBLIC HEALTH FUND. + + (a) Purpose.--It is the purpose of this section to establish a +Prevention and Public Health Fund (referred to in this section as the +``Fund''), to be administered through the Department of Health and Human +Services, Office of the Secretary, to provide for expanded and sustained +national investment in prevention and public health programs to improve +health and help restrain the rate of growth in private and public sector +health care costs. + (b) Funding.--There are hereby authorized to be appropriated, and +appropriated, to the Fund, out of any monies in the Treasury not +otherwise appropriated-- + (1) for fiscal year 2010, $500,000,000; + (2) for fiscal year 2011, $750,000,000; + (3) for fiscal year 2012, $1,000,000,000; + (4) for fiscal year 2013, $1,250,000,000; + (5) for fiscal year 2014, $1,500,000,000; and + (6) for fiscal year 2015, and each fiscal year thereafter, + $2,000,000,000. + + (c) Use of Fund.--The Secretary shall transfer amounts in the Fund +to accounts within the Department of Health and Human Services to +increase funding, over the fiscal year 2008 level, for programs +authorized by the Public Health Service Act, for prevention, wellness, +and public health activities including prevention research and health +screenings, such as the Community Transformation grant program, the +Education and Outreach Campaign for Preventive Benefits, and +immunization programs. + (d) Transfer Authority.--The Committee on Appropriations of the +Senate and the Committee on Appropriations of the House of +Representatives may provide for the transfer of funds in the Fund to +eligible activities under this section, subject to subsection (c). + +SEC. 4003. CLINICAL AND COMMUNITY PREVENTIVE SERVICES. + + (a) Preventive Services Task Force.--Section 915 of the Public +Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 299b-4) is amended by striking subsection +(a) and inserting the following: + ``(a) Preventive Services Task Force.-- + ``(1) Establishment and purpose.--The Director shall convene + an independent Preventive Services Task Force (referred + +[[Page 124 STAT. 542]] + + to in this subsection as the `Task Force') to be composed of + individuals with appropriate expertise. Such Task Force shall + review the scientific evidence related to the effectiveness, + appropriateness, and cost-effectiveness of clinical preventive + services for the purpose of developing recommendations for the + health care community, and updating previous clinical preventive + recommendations, to be published in the Guide to Clinical + Preventive Services (referred to in this section as the + `Guide'), for individuals and organizations delivering clinical + services, including primary care professionals, health care + systems, professional societies, employers, community + organizations, non-profit organizations, Congress and other + policy-makers, governmental public health agencies, health care + quality organizations, and organizations developing national + health objectives. Such recommendations shall consider clinical + preventive best practice recommendations from the Agency for + Healthcare Research and Quality, the National Institutes of + Health, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the + Institute of Medicine, specialty medical associations, patient + groups, and scientific societies. + ``(2) Duties.--The duties of the Task Force shall include-- + ``(A) the development of additional topic areas for + new recommendations and interventions related to those + topic areas, including those related to specific sub- + populations and age groups; + ``(B) at least once during every 5-year period, + review interventions and update recommendations related + to existing topic areas, including new or improved + techniques to assess the health effects of + interventions; + ``(C) improved integration with Federal Government + health objectives and related target setting for health + improvement; + ``(D) the enhanced dissemination of recommendations; + ``(E) the provision of technical assistance to those + health care professionals, agencies and organizations + that request help in implementing the Guide + recommendations; and + ``(F) the submission of yearly reports to Congress + and related agencies identifying gaps in research, such + as preventive services that receive an insufficient + evidence statement, and recommending priority areas that + deserve further examination, including areas related to + populations and age groups not adequately addressed by + current recommendations. + ``(3) Role of agency.--The Agency shall provide ongoing + administrative, research, and technical support for the + operations of the Task Force, including coordinating and + supporting the dissemination of the recommendations of the Task + Force, ensuring adequate staff resources, and assistance to + those organizations requesting it for implementation of the + Guide's recommendations. + ``(4) Coordination with community preventive services task + force.--The Task Force shall take appropriate steps to + coordinate its work with the Community Preventive Services Task + Force and the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, + including the examination of how each task force's + recommendations interact at the nexus of clinic and community. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 543]] + + ``(5) Operation.--Operation. In carrying out the duties + under paragraph (2), the Task Force is not subject to the + provisions of Appendix 2 of title 5, United States Code. + ``(6) Independence.--All members of the Task Force convened + under this subsection, and any recommendations made by such + members, shall be independent and, to the extent practicable, + not subject to political pressure. + ``(7) Authorization of appropriations.--There are authorized + to be appropriated such sums as may be necessary for each fiscal + year to carry out the activities of the Task Force.''. + + (b) Community Preventive Services Task Force.-- + (1) In general.--Part P of title III of the Public Health + Service Act, as amended by paragraph (2), is amended by adding + at the end the following: + +``SEC. 399U. COMMUNITY <> PREVENTIVE SERVICES + TASK FORCE. + + ``(a) Establishment and Purpose.--The Director of the Centers for +Disease Control and Prevention shall convene an independent Community +Preventive Services Task Force (referred to in this subsection as the +`Task Force') to be composed of individuals with appropriate expertise. +Such <> Task Force shall +review the scientific evidence related to the effectiveness, +appropriateness, and cost-effectiveness of community preventive +interventions for the purpose of developing recommendations, to be +published in the Guide to Community Preventive Services (referred to in +this section as the `Guide'), for individuals and organizations +delivering population-based services, including primary care +professionals, health care systems, professional societies, employers, +community organizations, non-profit organizations, schools, governmental +public health agencies, Indian tribes, tribal organizations and urban +Indian organizations, medical groups, Congress and other policy-makers. +Community preventive services include any policies, programs, processes +or activities designed to affect or otherwise affecting health at the +population level. + + ``(b) Duties.--The duties of the Task Force shall include-- + ``(1) the development of additional topic areas for new + recommendations and interventions related to those topic areas, + including those related to specific populations and age groups, + as well as the social, economic and physical environments that + can have broad effects on the health and disease of populations + and health disparities among sub-populations and age groups; + ``(2) at least once during every 5-year period, review + interventions and update recommendations related to existing + topic areas, including new or improved techniques to assess the + health effects of interventions, including health impact + assessment and population health modeling; + ``(3) improved integration with Federal Government health + objectives and related target setting for health improvement; + ``(4) the enhanced dissemination of recommendations; + ``(5) the provision of technical assistance to those health + care professionals, agencies, and organizations that request + help in implementing the Guide recommendations; and + ``(6) providing yearly reports to Congress and related + agencies identifying gaps in research and recommending priority + areas that deserve further examination, including areas related + +[[Page 124 STAT. 544]] + + to populations and age groups not adequately addressed by + current recommendations. + + ``(c) Role of Agency.--The Director shall provide ongoing +administrative, research, and technical support for the operations of +the Task Force, including coordinating and supporting the dissemination +of the recommendations of the Task Force, ensuring adequate staff +resources, and assistance to those organizations requesting it for +implementation of Guide recommendations. + ``(d) Coordination With Preventive Services Task Force.--The Task +Force shall take appropriate steps to coordinate its work with the U.S. +Preventive Services Task Force and the Advisory Committee on +Immunization Practices, including the examination of how each task +force's recommendations interact at the nexus of clinic and community. + ``(e) Operation.--In carrying out the duties under subsection (b), +the Task Force shall not be subject to the provisions of Appendix 2 of +title 5, United States Code. + ``(f) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated such sums as may be necessary for each fiscal year to carry +out the activities of the Task Force.''. + (2) Technical amendments.-- + (A) Section 399R of the Public Health Service Act + (as added by section 2 of the ALS Registry Act (Public + Law 110-373; 122 Stat. 4047)) <> is redesignated as section 399S. + (B) Section 399R of such Act (as added by section 3 + of the Prenatally and Postnatally Diagnosed Conditions + Awareness <> Act (Public Law 110- + 374; 122 Stat. 4051)) is redesignated as section 399T. + +SEC. 4004. EDUCATION <> AND OUTREACH CAMPAIGN + REGARDING PREVENTIVE BENEFITS. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services +(referred to in this section as the ``Secretary'') shall provide for the +planning and implementation of a national public-private partnership for +a prevention and health promotion outreach and education campaign to +raise public awareness of health improvement across the life span. Such +campaign shall include the dissemination of information that-- + (1) describes the importance of utilizing preventive + services to promote wellness, reduce health disparities, and + mitigate chronic disease; + (2) promotes the use of preventive services recommended by + the United States Preventive Services Task Force and the + Community Preventive Services Task Force; + (3) encourages healthy behaviors linked to the prevention of + chronic diseases; + (4) explains the preventive services covered under health + plans offered through a Gateway; + (5) describes additional preventive care supported by the + Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the Health Resources + and Services Administration, the Substance Abuse and Mental + Health Services Administration, the Advisory Committee on + Immunization Practices, and other appropriate agencies; and + (6) includes general health promotion information. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 545]] + + (b) Consultation.--In coordinating the campaign under subsection +(a), the Secretary shall consult with the Institute of Medicine to +provide ongoing advice on evidence-based scientific information for +policy, program development, and evaluation. + (c) Media Campaign.-- + (1) In general.--Not <> later than 1 year + after the date of enactment of this Act, the Secretary, acting + through the Director of the Centers for Disease Control and + Prevention, shall establish and implement a national science- + based media campaign on health promotion and disease prevention. + (2) Requirement of campaign.--The campaign implemented under + paragraph (1)-- + (A) shall be designed to address proper nutrition, + regular exercise, smoking cessation, obesity reduction, + the 5 leading disease killers in the United States, and + secondary prevention through disease screening + promotion; + (B) shall be carried out through competitively bid + contracts awarded to entities providing for the + professional production and design of such campaign; + (C) may include the use of television, radio, + Internet, and other commercial marketing venues and may + be targeted to specific age groups based on peer- + reviewed social research; + (D) shall not be duplicative of any other Federal + efforts relating to health promotion and disease + prevention; and + (E) may include the use of humor and nationally + recognized positive role models. + (3) Evaluation.--The <> Secretary + shall ensure that the campaign implemented under paragraph (1) + is subject to an independent evaluation every 2 years and shall + report every 2 years to Congress on the effectiveness of such + campaigns towards meeting science-based metrics. + + (d) Website.--The Secretary, in consultation with private-sector +experts, shall maintain or enter into a contract to maintain an Internet +website to provide science-based information on guidelines for +nutrition, regular exercise, obesity reduction, smoking cessation, and +specific chronic disease prevention. Such website shall be designed to +provide information to health care providers and consumers. + (e) Dissemination of <> Information Through +Providers.--The Secretary, acting through the Centers for Disease +Control and Prevention, shall develop and implement a plan for the +dissemination of health promotion and disease prevention information +consistent with national priorities, to health care providers who +participate in Federal programs, including programs administered by the +Indian Health Service, the Department of Veterans Affairs, the +Department of Defense, and the Health Resources and Services +Administration, and Medicare and Medicaid. + + (f) Personalized Prevention Plans.-- + (1) Contract.--The Secretary, <> acting + through the Director of the Centers for Disease Control and + Prevention, shall enter into a contract with a qualified entity + for the development and operation of a Federal Internet website + personalized prevention plan tool. + (2) Use.--The website developed under paragraph (1) shall be + designed to be used as a source of the most up-to-date + scientific evidence relating to disease prevention for use by + +[[Page 124 STAT. 546]] + + individuals. Such website shall contain a component that enables + an individual to determine their disease risk (based on personal + health and family history, BMI, and other relevant information) + relating to the 5 leading diseases in the United States, and + obtain personalized suggestions for preventing such diseases. + + (g) Internet Portal.--The Secretary shall establish an Internet +portal for accessing risk-assessment tools developed and maintained by +private and academic entities. + (h) Priority Funding.--Funding for the activities authorized under +this section shall take priority over funding provided through the +Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for grants to States and +other entities for similar purposes and goals as provided for in this +section. Not to exceed $500,000,000 shall be expended on the campaigns +and activities required under this section. + (i) Public Awareness of Preventive and Obesity-related Services.-- + (1) Information to states.--The Secretary of Health and + Human Services shall provide guidance and relevant information + to States and health care providers regarding preventive and + obesity-related services that are available to Medicaid + enrollees, including obesity screening and counseling for + children and adults. + (2) Information to enrollees.--Each State shall design a + public awareness campaign to educate Medicaid enrollees + regarding availability and coverage of such services, with the + goal of reducing incidences of obesity. + (3) Report.--Not later than January 1, 2011, and every 3 + years thereafter through January 1, 2017, the Secretary of + Health and Human Services shall report to Congress on the status + and effectiveness of efforts under paragraphs (1) and (2), + including summaries of the States' efforts to increase awareness + of coverage of obesity-related services. + + (j) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated such sums as may be necessary to carry out this section. + + Subtitle B--Increasing Access to Clinical Preventive Services + +SEC. 4101. SCHOOL-BASED HEALTH CENTERS. + + (a) Grants <> for the Establishment of School- +based Health Centers.-- + (1) Program.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services (in + this subsection referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall + establish a program to award grants to eligible entities to + support the operation of school-based health centers. + (2) Eligibility.--To be eligible for a grant under this + subsection, an entity shall-- + (A) be a school-based health center or a sponsoring + facility of a school-based health center; and + (B) submit an application at such time, in such + manner, and containing such information as the Secretary + may require, including at a minimum an assurance that + funds awarded under the grant shall not be used to + provide + +[[Page 124 STAT. 547]] + + any service that is not authorized or allowed by + Federal, State, or local law. + (3) Preference.--In awarding grants under this section, the + Secretary shall give preference to awarding grants for school- + based health centers that serve a large population of children + eligible for medical assistance under the State Medicaid plan + under title XIX of the Social Security Act or under a waiver of + such plan or children eligible for child health assistance under + the State child health plan under title XXI of that Act (42 + U.S.C. 1397aa et seq.). + (4) Limitation on use of funds.--An eligible entity shall + use funds provided under a grant awarded under this subsection + only for expenditures for facilities (including the acquisition + or improvement of land, or the acquisition, construction, + expansion, replacement, or other improvement of any building or + other facility), equipment, or similar expenditures, as + specified by the Secretary. No funds provided under a grant + awarded under this section shall be used for expenditures for + personnel or to provide health services. + (5) Appropriations.--Out of any funds in the Treasury not + otherwise appropriated, there is appropriated for each of fiscal + years 2010 through 2013, $50,000,000 for the purpose of carrying + out this subsection. Funds appropriated under this paragraph + shall remain available until expended. + (6) Definitions.--In this subsection, the terms ``school- + based health center'' and ``sponsoring facility'' have the + meanings given those terms in section 2110(c)(9) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397jj(c)(9)). + + (b) Grants for the Operation of School-based Health Centers.--Part Q +of title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 280h et seq.) +is amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 399Z-1. <> SCHOOL-BASED HEALTH CENTERS. + + ``(a) Definitions; Establishment of Criteria.--In this section: + ``(1) Comprehensive primary health services.--The term + `comprehensive primary health services' means the core services + offered by school-based health centers, which shall include the + following: + ``(A) Physical.--Comprehensive health assessments, + diagnosis, and treatment of minor, acute, and chronic + medical conditions, and referrals to, and follow-up for, + specialty care and oral health services. + ``(B) Mental health.--Mental health and substance + use disorder assessments, crisis intervention, + counseling, treatment, and referral to a continuum of + services including emergency psychiatric care, community + support programs, inpatient care, and outpatient + programs. + ``(2) Medically underserved children and adolescents.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `medically underserved + children and adolescents' means a population of children + and adolescents who are residents of an area designated + as a medically underserved area or a health professional + shortage area by the Secretary. + ``(B) Criteria.--The Secretary shall prescribe + criteria for determining the specific shortages of + personal health + +[[Page 124 STAT. 548]] + + services for medically underserved children and + adolescents under subparagraph (A) that shall-- + ``(i) take into account any comments received + by the Secretary from the chief executive officer + of a State and local officials in a State; and + ``(ii) include factors indicative of the + health status of such children and adolescents of + an area, including the ability of the residents of + such area to pay for health services, the + accessibility of such services, the availability + of health professionals to such children and + adolescents, and other factors as determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(3) School-based health center.--The term `school-based + health center' means a health clinic that-- + ``(A) meets the definition of a school-based health + center under section 2110(c)(9)(A) of the Social + Security Act and is administered by a sponsoring + facility (as defined in section 2110(c)(9)(B) of the + Social Security Act); + ``(B) provides, at a minimum, comprehensive primary + health services during school hours to children and + adolescents by health professionals in accordance with + established standards, community practice, reporting + laws, and other State laws, including parental consent + and notification laws that are not inconsistent with + Federal law; and + ``(C) does not perform abortion services. + + ``(b) Authority To Award Grants.--The Secretary shall award grants +for the costs of the operation of school-based health centers (referred +to in this section as `SBHCs') that meet the requirements of this +section. + ``(c) Applications.--To be eligible to receive a grant under this +section, an entity shall-- + ``(1) be an SBHC (as defined in subsection (a)(3)); and + ``(2) submit to the Secretary an application at such time, + in such manner, and containing-- + ``(A) evidence that the applicant meets all criteria + necessary to be designated an SBHC; + ``(B) evidence of local need for the services to be + provided by the SBHC; + ``(C) an assurance that-- + ``(i) SBHC services will be provided to those + children and adolescents for whom parental or + guardian consent has been obtained in cooperation + with Federal, State, and local laws governing + health care service provision to children and + adolescents; + ``(ii) the SBHC has made and will continue to + make every reasonable effort to establish and + maintain collaborative relationships with other + health care providers in the catchment area of the + SBHC; + ``(iii) the SBHC will provide on-site access + during the academic day when school is in session + and 24-hour coverage through an on-call system and + through its backup health providers to ensure + access to services on a year-round basis when the + school or the SBHC is closed; + ``(iv) the SBHC will be integrated into the + school environment and will coordinate health + services with school personnel, such as + administrators, teachers, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 549]] + + nurses, counselors, and support personnel, as well + as with other community providers co-located at + the school; + ``(v) the SBHC sponsoring facility assumes all + responsibility for the SBHC administration, + operations, and oversight; and + ``(vi) the SBHC will comply with Federal, + State, and local laws concerning patient privacy + and student records, including regulations + promulgated under the Health Insurance Portability + and Accountability Act of 1996 and section 444 of + the General Education Provisions Act; and + ``(D) such other information as the Secretary may + require. + + ``(d) Preferences and Consideration.--In reviewing applications: + ``(1) The Secretary may give preference to applicants who + demonstrate an ability to serve the following: + ``(A) Communities that have evidenced barriers to + primary health care and mental health and substance use + disorder prevention services for children and + adolescents. + ``(B) Communities with high per capita numbers of + children and adolescents who are uninsured, + underinsured, or enrolled in public health insurance + programs. + ``(C) Populations of children and adolescents that + have historically demonstrated difficulty in accessing + health and mental health and substance use disorder + prevention services. + ``(2) The Secretary may give consideration to whether an + applicant has received a grant under subsection (a) of section + 4101 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act. + + ``(e) Waiver of Requirements.--The Secretary may-- + ``(1) under appropriate circumstances, waive the application + of all or part of the requirements of this subsection with + respect to an SBHC for not to exceed 2 years; and + ``(2) upon a showing of good cause, waive the requirement + that the SBHC provide all required comprehensive primary health + services for a designated period of time to be determined by the + Secretary. + + ``(f) Use of Funds.-- + ``(1) Funds.--Funds awarded under a grant under this + section-- + ``(A) may be used for-- + ``(i) acquiring and leasing equipment + (including the costs of amortizing the principle + of, and paying interest on, loans for such + equipment); + ``(ii) providing training related to the + provision of required comprehensive primary health + services and additional health services; + ``(iii) the management and operation of health + center programs; + ``(iv) the payment of salaries for physicians, + nurses, and other personnel of the SBHC; and + ``(B) may not be used to provide abortions. + ``(2) Construction.--The Secretary may award grants which + may be used to pay the costs associated with expanding and + modernizing existing buildings for use as an SBHC, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 550]] + + including the purchase of trailers or manufactured buildings to + install on the school property. + ``(3) Limitations.-- + ``(A) In general.--Any provider of services that is + determined by a State to be in violation of a State law + described in subsection (a)(3)(B) with respect to + activities carried out at a SBHC shall not be eligible + to receive additional funding under this section. + ``(B) No overlapping grant period.--No entity that + has received funding under section 330 for a grant + period shall be eligible for a grant under this section + for with respect to the same grant period. + + ``(g) Matching Requirement.-- + ``(1) In general.--Each eligible entity that receives a + grant under this section shall provide, from non-Federal + sources, an amount equal to 20 percent of the amount of the + grant (which may be provided in cash or in-kind) to carry out + the activities supported by the grant. + ``(2) Waiver.--The Secretary may waive all or part of the + matching requirement described in paragraph (1) for any fiscal + year for the SBHC if the Secretary determines that applying the + matching requirement to the SBHC would result in serious + hardship or an inability to carry out the purposes of this + section. + + ``(h) Supplement, Not Supplant.--Grant funds provided under this +section shall be used to supplement, not supplant, other Federal or +State funds. + ``(i) Evaluation.--The Secretary shall develop and implement a plan +for evaluating SBHCs and monitoring quality performance under the awards +made under this section. + ``(j) Age Appropriate Services.--An eligible entity receiving funds +under this section shall only provide age appropriate services through a +SBHC funded under this section to an individual. + ``(k) Parental Consent.--An eligible entity receiving funds under +this section shall not provide services through a SBHC funded under this +section to an individual without the consent of the parent or guardian +of such individual if such individual is considered a minor under +applicable State law. + ``(l) Authorization of Appropriations.--For purposes of carrying out +this section, there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as may +be necessary for each of the fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + +SEC. 4102. ORAL HEALTHCARE PREVENTION ACTIVITIES. + + (a) In General.--Title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 241 et seq.), as amended by section 3025, is amended by adding at +the end the following: + + ``PART T--ORAL HEALTHCARE PREVENTION ACTIVITIES + +``SEC. 399LL. ORAL <> HEALTHCARE PREVENTION + EDUCATION CAMPAIGN. + + ``(a) Establishment.--The Secretary, acting through the Director of +the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and in consultation with +professional oral health organizations, shall, subject to the +availability of appropriations, establish a 5-year national, public +education campaign (referred to in this section + +[[Page 124 STAT. 551]] + +as the `campaign') that is focused on oral healthcare prevention and +education, including prevention of oral disease such as early childhood +and other caries, periodontal disease, and oral cancer. + ``(b) Requirements.--In establishing the campaign, the Secretary +shall-- + ``(1) ensure that activities are targeted towards specific + populations such as children, pregnant women, parents, the + elderly, individuals with disabilities, and ethnic and racial + minority populations, including Indians, Alaska Natives and + Native Hawaiians (as defined in section 4(c) of the Indian + Health Care Improvement Act) in a culturally and linguistically + appropriate manner; and + ``(2) utilize science-based strategies to convey oral health + prevention messages that include, but are not limited to, + community water fluoridation and dental sealants. + + ``(c) Planning and Implementation.--Not +later <> than 2 years after the date of enactment of +this section, the Secretary shall begin implementing the 5-year +campaign. During the 2-year period referred to in the previous sentence, +the Secretary shall conduct planning activities with respect to the +campaign. + +``SEC. 399LL-1. RESEARCH-BASED <> DENTAL + CARIES DISEASE MANAGEMENT. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary, acting through the Director of the +Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, shall award demonstration +grants to eligible entities to demonstrate the effectiveness of +research-based dental caries disease management activities. + ``(b) Eligibility.--To be eligible for a grant under this section, +an entity shall-- + ``(1) be a community-based provider of dental services (as + defined by the Secretary), including a Federally-qualified + health center, a clinic of a hospital owned or operated by a + State (or by an instrumentality or a unit of government within a + State), a State or local department of health, a dental program + of the Indian Health Service, an Indian tribe or tribal + organization, or an urban Indian organization (as such terms are + defined in section 4 of the Indian Health Care Improvement Act), + a health system provider, a private provider of dental services, + medical, dental, public health, nursing, nutrition educational + institutions, or national organizations involved in improving + children's oral health; and + ``(2) submit <> to the Secretary an + application at such time, in such manner, and containing such + information as the Secretary may require. + + ``(c) Use of Funds.--A grantee shall use amounts received under a +grant under this section to demonstrate the effectiveness of research- +based dental caries disease management activities. + ``(d) Use of Information.--The Secretary shall utilize information +generated from grantees under this section in planning and implementing +the public education campaign under section 399LL. + +``SEC. 399LL-2. AUTHORIZATION <> OF + APPROPRIATIONS. + + ``There is authorized to be appropriated to carry out this part, +such sums as may be necessary.''. + (b) School-based Sealant Programs.--Section 317M(c)(1) of the Public +Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 247b-14(c)(1)) is amended by striking +``may award grants to States and Indian tribes'' and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 552]] + +inserting ``shall award a grant to each of the 50 States and territories +and to Indians, Indian tribes, tribal organizations and urban Indian +organizations (as such terms are defined in section 4 of the Indian +Health Care Improvement Act)''. + (c) Oral Health Infrastructure.--Section 317M of the Public Health +Service Act (42 U.S.C. 247b-14) is amended-- + (1) by redesignating subsections (d) and (e) as subsections + (e) and (f), respectively; and + (2) by inserting after subsection (c), the following: + + ``(d) Oral Health Infrastructure.-- + ``(1) Cooperative agreements.--The Secretary, acting through + the Director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, + shall enter into cooperative agreements with State, territorial, + and Indian tribes or tribal organizations (as those terms are + defined in section 4 of the Indian Health Care Improvement Act) + to establish oral health leadership and program guidance, oral + health data collection and interpretation, (including + determinants of poor oral health among vulnerable populations), + a multi-dimensional delivery system for oral health, and to + implement science-based programs (including dental sealants and + community water fluoridation) to improve oral health. + ``(2) Authorization of appropriations.--There is authorized + to be appropriated such sums as necessary to carry out this + subsection for fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + + (d) Updating <> National Oral Healthcare +Surveillance Activities.-- + (1) PRAMS.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human + Services (referred to in this subsection as the + ``Secretary'') shall carry out activities to update and + improve the Pregnancy Risk Assessment Monitoring System + (referred to in this section as ``PRAMS'') as it relates + to oral healthcare. + (B) State reports and mandatory measurements.-- + (i) In general.--Not later than 5 years after + the date of enactment of this Act, and every 5 + years thereafter, a State shall submit to the + Secretary a report concerning activities conducted + within the State under PRAMS. + (ii) Measurements.--The oral healthcare + measurements developed by the Secretary for use + under PRAMS shall be mandatory with respect to + States for purposes of the State reports under + clause (i). + (C) Funding.--There is authorized to be appropriated + to carry out this paragraph, such sums as may be + necessary. + (2) National health and nutrition examination survey.--The + Secretary shall develop oral healthcare components that shall + include tooth-level surveillance for inclusion in the National + Health and Nutrition Examination Survey. + Such <> components shall be updated by the + Secretary at least every 6 years. + For <> purposes of this paragraph, the term + ``tooth-level surveillance'' means a clinical examination where + an examiner looks at each dental surface, on each tooth in the + mouth and as expanded by the Division of Oral Health of the + Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 553]] + + (3) Medical expenditures panel survey.--The Secretary shall + ensure that the Medical Expenditures Panel Survey by the Agency + for Healthcare Research and Quality includes the verification of + dental utilization, expenditure, and coverage findings through + conduct of a look-back analysis. + (4) National oral health surveillance system.-- + (A) Appropriations.--There is authorized to be + appropriated, such sums as may be necessary for each of + fiscal years 2010 through 2014 to increase the + participation of States in the National Oral Health + Surveillance System from 16 States to all 50 States, + territories, and District of Columbia. + (B) Requirements.--The Secretary shall ensure that + the National Oral Health Surveillance System include the + measurement of early childhood caries. + +SEC. 4103. MEDICARE COVERAGE OF ANNUAL WELLNESS VISIT PROVIDING A + PERSONALIZED PREVENTION PLAN. + + (a) Coverage of Personalized Prevention Plan Services.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1861(s)(2) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(s)(2)) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (DD), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) in subparagraph (EE), by adding ``and'' at the + end; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(FF) personalized prevention plan services (as defined in + subsection (hhh));''. + (2) Conforming amendments.--Clauses (i) and (ii) of section + 1861(s)(2)(K) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395x(s)(2)(K)) are each amended by striking ``subsection + (ww)(1)'' and inserting ``subsections (ww)(1) and (hhh)''. + + (b) Personalized Prevention Plan Services Defined.--Section 1861 of +the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x) is amended by adding at the +end the following new subsection: + + ``Annual Wellness Visit + + ``(hhh)(1) The term `personalized prevention plan services' means +the creation of a plan for an individual-- + ``(A) that includes a health risk assessment (that meets the + guidelines established by the Secretary under paragraph (4)(A)) + of the individual that is completed prior to or as part of the + same visit with a health professional described in paragraph + (3); and + ``(B) that-- + ``(i) takes into account the results of the health + risk assessment; and + ``(ii) may contain the elements described in + paragraph (2). + + ``(2) Subject to paragraph (4)(H), the elements described in this +paragraph are the following: + ``(A) The establishment of, or an update to, the + individual's medical and family history. + ``(B) A list of current providers and suppliers that are + regularly involved in providing medical care to the individual + (including a list of all prescribed medications). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 554]] + + ``(C) A measurement of height, weight, body mass index (or + waist circumference, if appropriate), blood pressure, and other + routine measurements. + ``(D) Detection of any cognitive impairment. + ``(E) The establishment of, or an update to, the following: + ``(i) A screening schedule for the next 5 to 10 + years, as appropriate, based on recommendations of the + United States Preventive Services Task Force and the + Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, and the + individual's health status, screening history, and age- + appropriate preventive services covered under this + title. + ``(ii) A list of risk factors and conditions for + which primary, secondary, or tertiary prevention + interventions are recommended or are underway, including + any mental health conditions or any such risk factors or + conditions that have been identified through an initial + preventive physical examination (as described under + subsection (ww)(1)), and a list of treatment options and + their associated risks and benefits. + ``(F) The furnishing of personalized health advice and a + referral, as appropriate, to health education or preventive + counseling services or programs aimed at reducing identified + risk factors and improving self-management, or community-based + lifestyle interventions to reduce health risks and promote self- + management and wellness, including weight loss, physical + activity, smoking cessation, fall prevention, and nutrition. + ``(G) Any other element determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + + ``(3) A health professional described in this paragraph is-- + ``(A) a physician; + ``(B) a practitioner described in clause (i) of section + 1842(b)(18)(C); or + ``(C) a medical professional (including a health educator, + registered dietitian, or nutrition professional) or a team of + medical professionals, as determined appropriate by the + Secretary, under the supervision of a physician. + + ``(4)(A) For <> purposes of paragraph (1)(A), the Secretary, +not later than 1 year after the date of enactment of this subsection, +shall establish publicly available guidelines for health risk +assessments. Such guidelines shall be developed in consultation with +relevant groups and entities and shall provide that a health risk +assessment-- + ``(i) identify chronic diseases, injury risks, modifiable + risk factors, and urgent health needs of the individual; and + ``(ii) may be furnished-- + ``(I) through an interactive telephonic or web-based + program that meets the standards established under + subparagraph (B); + ``(II) during an encounter with a health care + professional; + ``(III) through community-based prevention programs; + or + ``(IV) through any other means the Secretary + determines appropriate to maximize accessibility and + ease of use by beneficiaries, while ensuring the privacy + of such beneficiaries. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 555]] + + ``(B) Not <> later than 1 year after the date of +enactment of this subsection, the Secretary shall establish standards +for interactive telephonic or web-based programs used to furnish health +risk assessments under subparagraph (A)(ii)(I). The Secretary may +utilize any health risk assessment developed under section 4004(f) of +the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act as part of the +requirement to develop a personalized prevention plan to comply with +this subparagraph. + + ``(C)(i) Not later <> than 18 months after the date of enactment of this subsection, +the Secretary shall develop and make available to the public a health +risk assessment model. Such model shall meet the guidelines under +subparagraph (A) and may be used to meet the requirement under paragraph +(1)(A). + + ``(ii) Any health risk assessment that meets the guidelines under +subparagraph (A) and is approved by the Secretary may be used to meet +the requirement under paragraph (1)(A). + ``(D) The Secretary may coordinate with community-based entities +(including State Health Insurance Programs, Area Agencies on Aging, +Aging and Disability Resource Centers, and the Administration on Aging) +to-- + ``(i) ensure that health risk assessments are accessible to + beneficiaries; and + ``(ii) provide appropriate support for the completion of + health risk assessments by beneficiaries. + + ``(E) The <> Secretary shall establish procedures +to make beneficiaries and providers aware of the requirement that a +beneficiary complete a health risk assessment prior to or at the same +time as receiving personalized prevention plan services. + + ``(F) To the extent practicable, the Secretary shall encourage the +use of, integration with, and coordination of health information +technology (including use of technology that is compatible with +electronic medical records and personal health records) and may +experiment with the use of personalized technology to aid in the +development of self-management skills and management of and adherence to +provider recommendations in order to improve the health status of +beneficiaries. + ``(G)(i) A beneficiary shall only be eligible to receive an initial +preventive physical examination (as defined under subsection (ww)(1)) at +any time during the 12-month period after the date that the +beneficiary's coverage begins under part B and shall be eligible to +receive personalized prevention plan services under this subsection +provided that the beneficiary has not received such services within the +preceding 12-month period. + ``(ii) The Secretary <> shall establish +procedures to make beneficiaries aware of the option to select an +initial preventive physical examination or personalized prevention plan +services during the period of 12 months after the date that a +beneficiary's coverage begins under part B, which shall include +information regarding any relevant differences between such services. + + ``(H) The <> Secretary shall issue guidance that-- + ``(i) identifies elements under paragraph (2) that are + required to be provided to a beneficiary as part of their first + visit for personalized prevention plan services; and + ``(ii) establishes a yearly schedule for appropriate + provision of such elements thereafter.''. + + (c) Payment and Elimination of Cost-Sharing.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 556]] + + (1) Payment and elimination of coinsurance.--Section + 1833(a)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(a)(1)) is + amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (N), by inserting ``other than + personalized prevention plan services (as defined in + section 1861(hhh)(1))'' after ``(as defined in section + 1848(j)(3))''; + (B) by striking ``and'' before ``(W)''; and + (C) by inserting before the semicolon at the end the + following: ``, and (X) with respect to personalized + prevention plan services (as defined in section + 1861(hhh)(1)), the amount paid shall be 100 percent of + the lesser of the actual charge for the services or the + amount determined under the payment basis determined + under section 1848''. + (2) Payment under physician fee schedule.--Section + 1848(j)(3) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4(j)(3)) + is amended by inserting ``(2)(FF) (including administration of + the health risk assessment) ,'' after ``(2)(EE),''. + (3) Elimination of coinsurance in outpatient hospital + settings.-- + (A) Exclusion from opd fee schedule.--Section + 1833(t)(1)(B)(iv) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395l(t)(1)(B)(iv)) is amended by striking ``and + diagnostic mammography'' and inserting ``, diagnostic + mammography, or personalized prevention plan services + (as defined in section 1861(hhh)(1))''. + (B) Conforming amendments.--Section 1833(a)(2) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(a)(2)) is + amended-- + (i) in subparagraph (F), by striking ``and'' + at the end; + (ii) in subparagraph (G)(ii), by striking the + comma at the end and inserting ``; and''; and + (iii) by inserting after subparagraph (G)(ii) + the following new subparagraph: + ``(H) with respect to personalized prevention plan + services (as defined in section 1861(hhh)(1)) furnished + by an outpatient department of a hospital, the amount + determined under paragraph (1)(X),''. + (4) Waiver of application of deductible.--The first sentence + of section 1833(b) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395l(b)) is amended-- + (A) by striking ``and'' before ``(9)''; and + (B) by inserting before the period the following: + ``, and (10) such deductible shall not apply with + respect to personalized prevention plan services (as + defined in section 1861(hhh)(1))''. + + (d) Frequency Limitation.--Section 1862(a) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395y(a)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1)-- + (A) in subparagraph (N), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) in subparagraph (O), by striking the semicolon + at the end and inserting ``, and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(P) in the case of personalized prevention plan services + (as defined in section 1861(hhh)(1)), which are performed more + frequently than is covered under such section;''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 557]] + + (2) in paragraph (7), by striking ``or (K)'' and inserting + ``(K), or (P)''. + + (e) Effective <> Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to services furnished on or after +January 1, 2011. + +SEC. 4104. REMOVAL OF BARRIERS TO PREVENTIVE SERVICES IN MEDICARE. + + (a) Definition of Preventive Services.--Section 1861(ddd) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(ddd)) is amended-- + (1) in the heading, by inserting ``; Preventive Services'' + after ``Services''; + (2) in paragraph (1), by striking ``not otherwise described + in this title'' and inserting ``not described in subparagraph + (A) or (C) of paragraph (3)''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + + ``(3) The term `preventive services' means the following: + ``(A) The screening and preventive services described in + subsection (ww)(2) (other than the service described in + subparagraph (M) of such subsection). + ``(B) An initial preventive physical examination (as defined + in subsection (ww)). + ``(C) Personalized prevention plan services (as defined in + subsection (hhh)(1)).''. + + (b) Coinsurance.-- + (1) General application.-- + (A) In general.--Section 1833(a)(1) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(a)(1)), as amended by + section 4103(c)(1), is amended-- + (i) in subparagraph (T), by inserting ``(or + 100 percent if such services are recommended with + a grade of A or B by the United States Preventive + Services Task Force for any indication or + population and are appropriate for the + individual)'' after ``80 percent''; + (ii) in subparagraph (W)-- + (I) in clause (i), by inserting + ``(if such subparagraph were applied, by + substituting `100 percent' for `80 + percent')'' after ``subparagraph (D)''; + and + (II) in clause (ii), by striking + ``80 percent'' and inserting ``100 + percent''; + (iii) by striking ``and'' before ``(X)''; and + (iv) by inserting before the semicolon at the + end the following: ``, and (Y) with respect to + preventive services described in subparagraphs (A) + and (B) of section 1861(ddd)(3) that are + appropriate for the individual and, in the case of + such services described in subparagraph (A), are + recommended with a grade of A or B by the United + States Preventive Services Task Force for any + indication or population, the amount paid shall be + 100 percent of the lesser of the actual charge for + the services or the amount determined under the + fee schedule that applies to such services under + this part''. + (2) Elimination of coinsurance in outpatient hospital + settings.-- + (A) Exclusion from opd fee schedule.--Section + 1833(t)(1)(B)(iv) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 558]] + + 1395l(t)(1)(B)(iv)), as amended by section + 4103(c)(3)(A), is amended-- + (i) by striking ``or'' before ``personalized + prevention plan services''; and + (ii) by inserting before the period the + following: ``, or preventive services described in + subparagraphs (A) and (B) of section 1861(ddd)(3) + that are appropriate for the individual and, in + the case of such services described in + subparagraph (A), are recommended with a grade of + A or B by the United States Preventive Services + Task Force for any indication or population''. + (B) Conforming amendments.--Section 1833(a)(2) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(a)(2)), as + amended by section 4103(c)(3)(B), is amended-- + (i) in subparagraph (G)(ii), by striking + ``and'' after the semicolon at the end; + (ii) in subparagraph (H), by striking the + comma at the end and inserting ``; and''; and + (iii) by inserting after subparagraph (H) the + following new subparagraph: + ``(I) with respect to preventive services described + in subparagraphs (A) and (B) of section 1861(ddd)(3) + that are appropriate for the individual and are + furnished by an outpatient department of a hospital and, + in the case of such services described in subparagraph + (A), are recommended with a grade of A or B by the + United States Preventive Services Task Force for any + indication or population, the amount determined under + paragraph (1)(W) or (1)(Y),''. + + (c) Waiver of Application of Deductible for Preventive Services and +Colorectal Cancer Screening Tests.--Section 1833(b) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(b)), as amended by section 4103(c)(4), is +amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1), by striking ``items and services + described in section 1861(s)(10)(A)'' and inserting ``preventive + services described in subparagraph (A) of section 1861(ddd)(3) + that are recommended with a grade of A or B by the United States + Preventive Services Task Force for any indication or population + and are appropriate for the individual.''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new sentence: + ``Paragraph (1) of the first sentence of this subsection shall + apply with respect to a colorectal cancer screening test + regardless of the code that is billed for the establishment of a + diagnosis as a result of the test, or for the removal of tissue + or other matter or other procedure that is furnished in + connection with, as a result of, and in the same clinical + encounter as the screening test.''. + + (d) Effective <> Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to items and services furnished on or +after January 1, 2011. + +SEC. 4105. EVIDENCE-BASED COVERAGE OF PREVENTIVE SERVICES IN MEDICARE. + + (a) Authority To Modify or Eliminate Coverage of Certain Preventive +Services.--Section 1834 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m) is +amended by adding at the end the following new subsection: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 559]] + + ``(n) Authority To Modify or Eliminate Coverage of Certain +Preventive Services.--Notwithstanding <> any +other provision of this title, effective beginning on January 1, 2010, +if the Secretary determines appropriate, the Secretary may-- + ``(1) modify-- + ``(A) the coverage of any preventive service + described in subparagraph (A) of section 1861(ddd)(3) to + the extent that such modification is consistent with the + recommendations of the United States Preventive Services + Task Force; and + ``(B) the services included in the initial + preventive physical examination described in + subparagraph (B) of such section; and + ``(2) provide that no payment shall be made under this title + for a preventive service described in subparagraph (A) of such + section that has not received a grade of A, B, C, or I by such + Task Force.''. + + (b) Construction.--Nothing <> in the +amendment made by paragraph (1) shall be construed to affect the +coverage of diagnostic or treatment services under title XVIII of the +Social Security Act. + +SEC. 4106. IMPROVING ACCESS TO PREVENTIVE SERVICES FOR ELIGIBLE ADULTS + IN MEDICAID. + + (a) Clarification of Inclusion of Services.--Section 1905(a)(13) of +the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(a)(13)) is amended to read as +follows: + ``(13) other diagnostic, screening, preventive, and + rehabilitative services, including-- + ``(A) any clinical preventive services that are + assigned a grade of A or B by the United States + Preventive Services Task Force; + ``(B) with respect to an adult individual, approved + vaccines recommended by the Advisory Committee on + Immunization Practices (an advisory committee + established by the Secretary, acting through the + Director of the Centers for Disease Control and + Prevention) and their administration; and + ``(C) any medical or remedial services (provided in + a facility, a home, or other setting) recommended by a + physician or other licensed practitioner of the healing + arts within the scope of their practice under State law, + for the maximum reduction of physical or mental + disability and restoration of an individual to the best + possible functional level;''. + + (b) Increased Fmap.--Section 1905(b) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396d(b)), as amended by sections 2001(a)(3)(A) and 2004(c)(1), +is amended in the first sentence-- + (1) by striking ``, and (4)'' and inserting ``, (4)''; and + (2) by inserting before the period the following: ``, and + (5) in the case of a State that provides medical assistance for + services and vaccines described in subparagraphs (A) and (B) of + subsection (a)(13), and prohibits cost-sharing for such services + and vaccines, the Federal medical assistance percentage, as + determined under this subsection and subsection (y) (without + regard to paragraph (1)(C) of such subsection), shall be + increased by 1 percentage point with respect to medical + +[[Page 124 STAT. 560]] + + assistance for such services and vaccines and for items and + services described in subsection (a)(4)(D)''. + + (c) Effective <> Date.--The amendments +made under this section shall take effect on January 1, 2013. + +SEC. 4107. COVERAGE OF COMPREHENSIVE TOBACCO CESSATION SERVICES FOR + PREGNANT WOMEN IN MEDICAID. + + (a) Requiring Coverage of Counseling and Pharmacotherapy for +Cessation of Tobacco Use by Pregnant Women.--Section 1905 of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d), as amended by sections 2001(a)(3)(B) and +2303, is further amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)(4)-- + (A) by striking ``and'' before ``(C)''; and + (B) by inserting before the semicolon at the end the + following new subparagraph: ``; and (D) counseling and + pharmacotherapy for cessation of tobacco use by pregnant + women (as defined in subsection (bb))''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(bb)(1) For <> purposes of this title, the term +`counseling and pharmacotherapy for cessation of tobacco use by pregnant +women' means diagnostic, therapy, and counseling services and +pharmacotherapy (including the coverage of prescription and +nonprescription tobacco cessation agents approved by the Food and Drug +Administration) for cessation of tobacco use by pregnant women who use +tobacco products or who are being treated for tobacco use that is +furnished-- + ``(A) by or under the supervision of a physician; or + ``(B) by any other health care professional who-- + ``(i) is legally authorized to furnish such services + under State law (or the State regulatory mechanism + provided by State law) of the State in which the + services are furnished; and + ``(ii) is authorized to receive payment for other + services under this title or is designated by the + Secretary for this purpose. + + ``(2) Subject to paragraph (3), such term is limited to-- + ``(A) services recommended with respect to pregnant women in + `Treating Tobacco Use and Dependence: 2008 Update: A Clinical + Practice Guideline', published by the Public Health Service in + May 2008, or any subsequent modification of such Guideline; and + ``(B) such other services that the Secretary recognizes to + be effective for cessation of tobacco use by pregnant women. + + ``(3) Such term shall not include coverage for drugs or biologicals +that are not otherwise covered under this title.''. + (b) Exception From Optional Restriction Under Medicaid Prescription +Drug Coverage.--Section 1927(d)(2)(F) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396r-8(d)(2)(F)), as redesignated by section 2502(a), is amended +by inserting before the period at the end the following: ``, except, in +the case of pregnant women when recommended in accordance with the +Guideline referred to in section 1905(bb)(2)(A), agents approved by the +Food and Drug Administration under the over-the-counter monograph +process for purposes of promoting, and when used to promote, tobacco +cessation''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 561]] + + (c) Removal of Cost-Sharing for Counseling and Pharmacotherapy for +Cessation of Tobacco Use by Pregnant Women.-- + (1) General cost-sharing limitations.--Section 1916 of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396o) is amended in each of + subsections (a)(2)(B) and (b)(2)(B) by inserting ``, and + counseling and pharmacotherapy for cessation of tobacco use by + pregnant women (as defined in section 1905(bb)) and covered + outpatient drugs (as defined in subsection (k)(2) of section + 1927 and including nonprescription drugs described in subsection + (d)(2) of such section) that are prescribed for purposes of + promoting, and when used to promote, tobacco cessation by + pregnant women in accordance with the Guideline referred to in + section 1905(bb)(2)(A)'' after ``complicate the pregnancy''. + (2) Application to alternative cost-sharing.--Section + 1916A(b)(3)(B)(iii) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396o- + 1(b)(3)(B)(iii)) is amended by inserting ``, and counseling and + pharmacotherapy for cessation of tobacco use by pregnant women + (as defined in section 1905(bb))'' after ``complicate the + pregnancy''. + + (d) Effective <> Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall take effect on October 1, 2010. + +SEC. 4108. INCENTIVES <> FOR + PREVENTION OF CHRONIC DISEASES IN MEDICAID. + + (a) Initiatives.-- + (1) Establishment.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary shall award grants to + States to carry out initiatives to provide incentives to + Medicaid beneficiaries who-- + (i) successfully participate in a program + described in paragraph (3); and + (ii) upon completion of such participation, + demonstrate changes in health risk and outcomes, + including the adoption and maintenance of healthy + behaviors by meeting specific targets (as + described in subsection (c)(2)). + (B) Purpose.--The purpose of the initiatives under + this section is to test approaches that may encourage + behavior modification and determine scalable solutions. + (2) Duration.-- + (A) Initiation <> of program; + resources.--The Secretary shall awards grants to States + beginning on January 1, 2011, or beginning on the date + on which the Secretary develops program criteria, + whichever is <> earlier. The Secretary + shall develop program criteria for initiatives under + this section using relevant evidence-based research and + resources, including the Guide to Community Preventive + Services, the Guide to Clinical Preventive Services, and + the National Registry of Evidence-Based Programs and + Practices. + (B) Duration <> of program.--A + State awarded a grant to carry out initiatives under + this section shall carry out such initiatives within the + 5-year period beginning on January 1, 2011, or beginning + on the date on which the Secretary develops program + criteria, whichever is earlier. Initiatives under this + section shall be carried out by a State for a period of + not less than 3 years. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 562]] + + (3) Program described.-- + (A) In general.--A program described in this + paragraph is a comprehensive, evidence-based, widely + available, and easily accessible program, proposed by + the State and approved by the Secretary, that is + designed and uniquely suited to address the needs of + Medicaid beneficiaries and has demonstrated success in + helping individuals achieve one or more of the + following: + (i) Ceasing use of tobacco products. + (ii) Controlling or reducing their weight. + (iii) Lowering their cholesterol. + (iv) Lowering their blood pressure. + (v) Avoiding the onset of diabetes or, in the + case of a diabetic, improving the management of + that condition. + (B) Co-morbidities.--A program under this section + may also address co-morbidities (including depression) + that are related to any of the conditions described in + subparagraph (A). + (C) Waiver authority.--The Secretary may waive the + requirements of section 1902(a)(1) (relating to + statewideness) of the Social Security Act for a State + awarded a grant to conduct an initiative under this + section and shall ensure that a State makes any program + described in subparagraph (A) available and accessible + to Medicaid beneficiaries. + (D) Flexibility in implementation.--A State may + enter into arrangements with providers participating in + Medicaid, community-based organizations, faith-based + organizations, public-private partnerships, Indian + tribes, or similar entities or organizations to carry + out programs described in subparagraph (A). + (4) Application.--Following the development of program + criteria by the Secretary, a State may submit an application, in + such manner and containing such information as the Secretary may + require, that shall include a proposal for programs described in + paragraph (3)(A) and a plan to make Medicaid beneficiaries and + providers participating in Medicaid who reside in the State + aware and informed about such programs. + + (b) Education and Outreach Campaign.-- + (1) State awareness.--The Secretary shall conduct an + outreach and education campaign to make States aware of the + grants under this section. + (2) Provider and beneficiary education.--A State awarded a + grant to conduct an initiative under this section shall conduct + an outreach and education campaign to make Medicaid + beneficiaries and providers participating in Medicaid who reside + in the State aware of the programs described in subsection + (a)(3) that are to be carried out by the State under the grant. + + (c) Impact.--A State awarded a grant to conduct an initiative under +this section shall develop and implement a system to-- + (1) track Medicaid beneficiary participation in the program + and validate changes in health risk and outcomes with clinical + data, including the adoption and maintenance of health behaviors + by such beneficiaries; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 563]] + + (2) to the extent practicable, establish standards and + health status targets for Medicaid beneficiaries participating + in the program and measure the degree to which such standards + and targets are met; + (3) evaluate the effectiveness of the program and provide + the Secretary with such evaluations; + (4) report <> to the Secretary on processes + that have been developed and lessons learned from the program; + and + (5) report <> on preventive services as part + of reporting on quality measures for Medicaid managed care + programs. + + (d) Evaluations and Reports.-- + (1) Independent <> assessment.--The + Secretary shall enter into a contract with an independent entity + or organization to conduct an evaluation and assessment of the + initiatives carried out by States under this section, for the + purpose of determining-- + (A) the effect of such initiatives on the use of + health care services by Medicaid beneficiaries + participating in the program; + (B) the extent to which special populations + (including adults with disabilities, adults with chronic + illnesses, and children with special health care needs) + are able to participate in the program; + (C) the level of satisfaction of Medicaid + beneficiaries with respect to the accessibility and + quality of health care services provided through the + program; and + (D) the administrative costs incurred by State + agencies that are responsible for administration of the + program. + (2) State reporting.--A State awarded a grant to carry out + initiatives under this section shall submit reports to the + Secretary, on a semi-annual basis, regarding the programs that + are supported by the grant funds. Such report shall include + information, as specified by the Secretary, regarding-- + (A) the specific uses of the grant funds; + (B) an assessment of program implementation and + lessons learned from the programs; + (C) an assessment of quality improvements and + clinical outcomes under such programs; and + (D) estimates of cost savings resulting from such + programs. + (3) Initial report.--Not later than January 1, 2014, the + Secretary shall submit to Congress an initial report on such + initiatives based on information provided by States through + reports required under paragraph (2). The initial report shall + include an interim evaluation of the effectiveness of the + initiatives carried out with grants awarded under this section + and a recommendation regarding whether funding for expanding or + extending the initiatives should be extended beyond January 1, + 2016. + (4) Final report.--Not later than July 1, 2016, the + Secretary shall submit to Congress a final report on the program + that includes the results of the independent assessment required + under paragraph (1), together with recommendations for such + legislation and administrative action as the Secretary + determines appropriate. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 564]] + + (e) No Effect on Eligibility for, or Amount of, Medicaid or Other +Benefits.--Any incentives provided to a Medicaid beneficiary +participating in a program described in subsection (a)(3) shall not be +taken into account for purposes of determining the beneficiary's +eligibility for, or amount of, benefits under the Medicaid program or +any program funded in whole or in part with Federal funds. + (f) Funding.--Out of any funds in the Treasury not otherwise +appropriated, there are appropriated for the 5-year period beginning on +January 1, 2011, $100,000,000 to the Secretary to carry out this +section. Amounts appropriated under this subsection shall remain +available until expended. + (g) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Medicaid beneficiary.--The term ``Medicaid beneficiary'' + means an individual who is eligible for medical assistance under + a State plan or waiver under title XIX of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1396 et seq.) and is enrolled in such plan or + waiver. + (2) State.--The term ``State'' has the meaning given that + term for purposes of title XIX of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1396 et seq.). + + Subtitle C--Creating Healthier Communities + +SEC. 4201. COMMUNITY <> TRANSFORMATION GRANTS. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services +(referred to in this section as the ``Secretary''), acting through the +Director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (referred to +in this section as the ``Director''), shall award competitive grants to +State and local governmental agencies and community-based organizations +for the implementation, evaluation, and dissemination of evidence-based +community preventive health activities in order to reduce chronic +disease rates, prevent the development of secondary conditions, address +health disparities, and develop a stronger evidence-base of effective +prevention programming. + (b) Eligibility.--To be eligible to receive a grant under subsection +(a), an entity shall-- + (1) be-- + (A) a State governmental agency; + (B) a local governmental agency; + (C) a national network of community-based + organizations; + (D) a State or local non-profit organization; or + (E) an Indian tribe; and + (2) submit to the Director an application at such time, in + such a manner, and containing such information as the Director + may require, including a description of the program to be + carried out under the grant; and + (3) demonstrate a history or capacity, if funded, to develop + relationships necessary to engage key stakeholders from multiple + sectors within and beyond health care and across a community, + such as healthy futures corps and health care providers. + + (c) Use of Funds.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 565]] + + (1) In general.--An eligible entity shall use amounts + received under a grant under this section to carry out programs + described in this subsection. + (2) Community transformation plan.-- + (A) In general.--An eligible entity that receives a + grant under this section shall submit to the Director + (for approval) a detailed plan that includes the policy, + environmental, programmatic, and as appropriate + infrastructure changes needed to promote healthy living + and reduce disparities. + (B) Activities.--Activities within the plan may + focus on (but not be limited to)-- + (i) creating healthier school environments, + including increasing healthy food options, + physical activity opportunities, promotion of + healthy lifestyle, emotional wellness, and + prevention curricula, and activities to prevent + chronic diseases; + (ii) creating the infrastructure to support + active living and access to nutritious foods in a + safe environment; + (iii) developing and promoting programs + targeting a variety of age levels to increase + access to nutrition, physical activity and smoking + cessation, improve social and emotional wellness, + enhance safety in a community, or address any + other chronic disease priority area identified by + the grantee; + (iv) assessing and implementing worksite + wellness programming and incentives; + (v) working to highlight healthy options at + restaurants and other food venues; + (vi) prioritizing strategies to reduce racial + and ethnic disparities, including social, + economic, and geographic determinants of health; + and + (vii) addressing special populations needs, + including all age groups and individuals with + disabilities, and individuals in both urban and + rural areas. + (3) Community-based prevention health activities.-- + (A) In general.--An eligible entity shall use + amounts received under a grant under this section to + implement a variety of programs, policies, and + infrastructure improvements to promote healthier + lifestyles. + (B) Activities.--An eligible entity shall implement + activities detailed in the community transformation plan + under paragraph (2). + (C) In-kind support.--An eligible entity may provide + in-kind resources such as staff, equipment, or office + space in carrying out activities under this section. + (4) Evaluation.-- + (A) In general.--An eligible entity shall use + amounts provided under a grant under this section to + conduct activities to measure changes in the prevalence + of chronic disease risk factors among community members + participating in preventive health activities + (B) Types of measures.--In carrying out subparagraph + (A), the eligible entity shall, with respect to + residents in the community, measure-- + (i) changes in weight; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 566]] + + (ii) changes in proper nutrition; + (iii) changes in physical activity; + (iv) changes in tobacco use prevalence; + (v) changes in emotional well-being and + overall mental health; + (vi) other factors using community-specific + data from the Behavioral Risk Factor Surveillance + Survey; and + (vii) other factors as determined by the + Secretary. + (C) Reporting.--An eligible entity shall annually + submit to the Director a report containing an evaluation + of activities carried out under the grant. + (5) Dissemination.--A grantee under this section shall-- + (A) meet at least annually in regional or national + meetings to discuss challenges, best practices, and + lessons learned with respect to activities carried out + under the grant; and + (B) develop models for the replication of successful + programs and activities and the mentoring of other + eligible entities. + + (d) Training.-- + (1) In general.--The Director shall develop a program to + provide training for eligible entities on effective strategies + for the prevention and control of chronic disease and the link + between physical, emotional, and social well-being. + (2) Community transformation plan.--The Director shall + provide appropriate feedback and technical assistance to + grantees to establish community transformation plans + (3) Evaluation.--The Director shall provide a literature + review and framework for the evaluation of programs conducted as + part of the grant program under this section, in addition to + working with academic institutions or other entities with + expertise in outcome evaluation. + + (e) Prohibition.--A grantee shall not use funds provided under a +grant under this section to create video games or to carry out any other +activities that may lead to higher rates of obesity or inactivity. + (f) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section, such sums as may be necessary +for each fiscal years 2010 through 2014. + +SEC. 4202. HEALTHY <> AGING, LIVING WELL; + EVALUATION OF COMMUNITY-BASED PREVENTION AND WELLNESS + PROGRAMS FOR MEDICARE BENEFICIARIES. + + (a) Healthy Aging, Living Well.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + (referred to in this section as the ``Secretary''), acting + through the Director of the Centers for Disease Control and + Prevention, shall award grants to State or local health + departments and Indian tribes to carry out 5-year pilot programs + to provide public health community interventions, screenings, + and where necessary, clinical referrals for individuals who are + between 55 and 64 years of age. + (2) Eligibility.--To be eligible to receive a grant under + paragraph (1), an entity shall-- + (A) be-- + (i) a State health department; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 567]] + + (ii) a local health department; or + (iii) an Indian tribe; + (B) submit to the Secretary an application at such + time, in such manner, and containing such information as + the Secretary may require including a description of the + program to be carried out under the grant; + (C) design a strategy for improving the health of + the 55-to-64 year-old population through community-based + public health interventions; and + (D) demonstrate the capacity, if funded, to develop + the relationships necessary with relevant health + agencies, health care providers, community-based + organizations, and insurers to carry out the activities + described in paragraph (3), such relationships to + include the identification of a community-based clinical + partner, such as a community health center or rural + health clinic. + (3) Use of funds.-- + (A) In general.--A State or local health department + shall use amounts received under a grant under this + subsection to carry out a program to provide the + services described in this paragraph to individuals who + are between 55 and 64 years of age. + (B) Public health interventions.-- + (i) In general.--In developing and + implementing such activities, a grantee shall + collaborate with the Centers for Disease Control + and Prevention and the Administration on Aging, + and relevant local agencies and organizations. + (ii) Types of intervention activities.-- + Intervention activities conducted under this + subparagraph may include efforts to improve + nutrition, increase physical activity, reduce + tobacco use and substance abuse, improve mental + health, and promote healthy lifestyles among the + target population. + (C) Community preventive screenings.-- + (i) In general.--In addition to community-wide + public health interventions, a State or local + health department shall use amounts received under + a grant under this subsection to conduct ongoing + health screening to identify risk factors for + cardiovascular disease, cancer, stroke, and + diabetes among individuals in both urban and rural + areas who are between 55 and 64 years of age. + (ii) Types of screening activities.--Screening + activities conducted under this subparagraph may + include-- + (I) mental health/behavioral health + and substance use disorders; + (II) physical activity, smoking, and + nutrition; and + (III) any other measures deemed + appropriate by the Secretary. + (iii) Monitoring.-- + Grantees <> under this section + shall maintain records of screening results under + this subparagraph to establish the baseline data + for monitoring the targeted population + +[[Page 124 STAT. 568]] + + (D) Clinical referral/treatment for chronic + diseases.-- + (i) In general.--A State or local health + department shall use amounts received under a + grant under this subsection to ensure that + individuals between 55 and 64 years of age who are + found to have chronic disease risk factors through + the screening activities described in subparagraph + (C)(ii), receive clinical referral/treatment for + follow-up services to reduce such risk. + (ii) Mechanism.-- + (I) Identification and determination + of status.--With respect to each + individual with risk factors for or + having heart disease, stroke, diabetes, + or any other condition for which such + individual was screened under + subparagraph (C), a grantee under this + section shall determine whether or not + such individual is covered under any + public or private health insurance + program. + (II) Insured individuals.--An + individual determined to be covered + under a health insurance program under + subclause (I) shall be referred by the + grantee to the existing providers under + such program or, if such individual does + not have a current provider, to a + provider who is in-network with respect + to the program involved. + (III) Uninsured individuals.--With + respect to an individual determined to + be uninsured under subclause (I), the + grantee's community-based clinical + partner described in paragraph (4)(D) + shall assist the individual in + determining eligibility for available + public coverage options and identify + other appropriate community health care + resources and assistance programs. + (iii) Public health intervention program.--A + State or local health department shall use amounts + received under a grant under this subsection to + enter into contracts with community health centers + or rural health clinics and mental health and + substance use disorder service providers to assist + in the referral/treatment of at risk patients to + community resources for clinical follow-up and + help determine eligibility for other public + programs. + (E) Grantee evaluation.--An eligible entity shall + use amounts provided under a grant under this subsection + to conduct activities to measure changes in the + prevalence of chronic disease risk factors among + participants. + (4) Pilot program evaluation.--The Secretary shall conduct + an annual evaluation of the effectiveness of the pilot program + under this subsection. In determining such effectiveness, the + Secretary shall consider changes in the prevalence of + uncontrolled chronic disease risk factors among new Medicare + enrollees (or individuals nearing enrollment, including those + who are 63 and 64 years of age) who reside in States or + localities receiving grants under this section as compared with + national and historical data for those States and localities for + the same population. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 569]] + + (5) Authorization of appropriations.--There are authorized + to be appropriated to carry out this subsection, such sums as + may be necessary for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014. + + (b) Evaluation and Plan for Community-based Prevention and Wellness +Programs for Medicare Beneficiaries.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary shall conduct an evaluation + of community-based prevention and wellness programs and develop + a plan for promoting healthy lifestyles and chronic disease + self-management for Medicare beneficiaries. + (2) Medicare evaluation of prevention and wellness + programs.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary shall evaluate + community prevention and wellness programs including + those that are sponsored by the Administration on Aging, + are evidence-based, and have demonstrated potential to + help Medicare beneficiaries (particularly beneficiaries + that have attained 65 years of age) reduce their risk of + disease, disability, and injury by making healthy + lifestyle choices, including exercise, diet, and self- + management of chronic diseases. + (B) Evaluation.--The evaluation under subparagraph + (A) shall consist of the following: + (i) Evidence review.--The Secretary shall + review available evidence, literature, best + practices, and resources that are relevant to + programs that promote healthy lifestyles and + reduce risk factors for the Medicare population. + The Secretary may determine the scope of the + evidence review and such issues to be considered, + which shall include, at a minimum-- + (I) physical activity, nutrition, + and obesity; + (II) falls; + (III) chronic disease self- + management; and + (IV) mental health. + (ii) Independent evaluation of evidence-based + community prevention and wellness programs.--The + Administrator of the Centers for Medicare & + Medicaid Services, in consultation with the + Assistant Secretary for Aging, shall, to the + extent feasible and practicable, conduct an + evaluation of existing community prevention and + wellness programs that are sponsored by the + Administration on Aging to assess the extent to + which Medicare beneficiaries who participate in + such programs-- + (I) reduce their health risks, + improve their health outcomes, and adopt + and maintain healthy behaviors; + (II) improve their ability to manage + their chronic conditions; and + (III) reduce their utilization of + health services and associated costs + under the Medicare program for + conditions that are amenable to + improvement under such programs. + (3) Report.--Not later than September 30, 2013, the + Secretary shall submit to Congress a report that includes-- + (A) recommendations for such legislation and + administrative action as the Secretary determines + appropriate to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 570]] + + promote healthy lifestyles and chronic disease self- + management for Medicare beneficiaries; + (B) any relevant findings relating to the evidence + review under paragraph (2)(B)(i); and + (C) the results of the evaluation under paragraph + (2)(B)(ii). + (4) Funding.--For purposes of carrying out this subsection, + the Secretary shall provide for the transfer, from the Federal + Hospital Insurance Trust Fund under section 1817 of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i) and the Federal Supplemental + Medical Insurance Trust Fund under section 1841 of such Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395t), in such proportion as the Secretary determines + appropriate, of $50,000,000 to the Centers for Medicare & + Medicaid Services Program Management Account. Amounts + transferred under the preceding sentence shall remain available + until expended. + (5) Administration.--Chapter 35 of title 44, United States + Code shall not apply to the this subsection. + (6) Medicare <> beneficiary.--In this + subsection, the term ``Medicare beneficiary'' means an + individual who is entitled to benefits under part A of title + XVIII of the Social Security Act and enrolled under part B of + such title. + +SEC. 4203. REMOVING BARRIERS AND IMPROVING ACCESS TO WELLNESS FOR + INDIVIDUALS WITH DISABILITIES. + + Title V of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 (29 U.S.C. 791 et seq.) is +amended by adding at the end of the following: + +``SEC. 510. ESTABLISHMENT <> OF STANDARDS FOR + ACCESSIBLE MEDICAL DIAGNOSTIC EQUIPMENT. + + ``(a) Standards.--Not <> later than 24 months after +the date of enactment of the Affordable Health Choices Act, the +Architectural and Transportation Barriers Compliance Board shall, in +consultation with the Commissioner of the Food and Drug Administration, +promulgate regulatory standards in accordance with the Administrative +Procedure Act (2 U.S.C. 551 et seq.) setting forth the minimum technical +criteria for medical diagnostic equipment used in (or in conjunction +with) physician's offices, clinics, emergency rooms, hospitals, and +other medical settings. The standards shall ensure that such equipment +is accessible to, and usable by, individuals with accessibility needs, +and shall allow independent entry to, use of, and exit from the +equipment by such individuals to the maximum extent possible. + + ``(b) Medical Diagnostic Equipment Covered.--The standards issued +under subsection (a) for medical diagnostic equipment shall apply to +equipment that includes examination tables, examination chairs +(including chairs used for eye examinations or procedures, and dental +examinations or procedures), weight scales, mammography equipment, x-ray +machines, and other radiological equipment commonly used for diagnostic +purposes by health professionals. + ``(c) Review and Amendment.--The Architectural and Transportation +Barriers Compliance Board, in consultation with the Commissioner of the +Food and Drug Administration, shall periodically review and, as +appropriate, amend the standards in accordance with the Administrative +Procedure Act (2 U.S.C. 551 et seq.).''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 571]] + +SEC. 4204. IMMUNIZATIONS. + + (a) State Authority To Purchase Recommended Vaccines for Adults.-- +Section 317 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 247b) is amended +by adding at the end the following: + ``(l) Authority to Purchase Recommended Vaccines for Adults.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary may negotiate and enter + into contracts with manufacturers of vaccines for the purchase + and delivery of vaccines for adults as provided for under + subsection (e). + ``(2) State purchase.--A State may obtain additional + quantities of such adult vaccines (subject to amounts specified + to the Secretary by the State in advance of negotiations) + through the purchase of vaccines from manufacturers at the + applicable price negotiated by the Secretary under this + subsection.''. + + (b) Demonstration Program to Improve Immunization Coverage.--Section +317 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 247b), as amended by +subsection (a), is further amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(m) Demonstration <> Program To Improve +Immunization Coverage.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary, acting through the + Director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, + shall establish a demonstration program to award grants to + States to improve the provision of recommended immunizations for + children, adolescents, and adults through the use of evidence- + based, population-based interventions for high-risk populations. + ``(2) State plan.--To be eligible for a grant under + paragraph (1), a State shall submit to the Secretary an + application at such time, in such manner, and containing such + information as the Secretary may require, including a State plan + that describes the interventions to be implemented under the + grant and how such interventions match with local needs and + capabilities, as determined through consultation with local + authorities. + ``(3) Use of funds.--Funds received under a grant under this + subsection shall be used to implement interventions that are + recommended by the Task Force on Community Preventive Services + (as established by the Secretary, acting through the Director of + the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention) or other + evidence-based interventions, including-- + ``(A) providing immunization reminders or recalls + for target populations of clients, patients, and + consumers; + ``(B) educating targeted populations and health care + providers concerning immunizations in combination with + one or more other interventions; + ``(C) reducing out-of-pocket costs for families for + vaccines and their administration; + ``(D) carrying out immunization-promoting strategies + for participants or clients of public programs, + including assessments of immunization status, referrals + to health care providers, education, provision of on- + site immunizations, or incentives for immunization; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 572]] + + ``(E) providing for home visits that promote + immunization through education, assessments of need, + referrals, provision of immunizations, or other + services; + ``(F) providing reminders or recalls for + immunization providers; + ``(G) conducting assessments of, and providing + feedback to, immunization providers; + ``(H) any combination of one or more interventions + described in this paragraph; or + ``(I) immunization information systems to allow all + States to have electronic databases for immunization + records. + ``(4) Consideration.--In awarding grants under this + subsection, the Secretary shall consider any reviews or + recommendations of the Task Force on Community Preventive + Services. + ``(5) Evaluation.--Not <> later than 3 + years after the date on which a State receives a grant under + this subsection, the State shall submit to the Secretary an + evaluation of progress made toward improving immunization + coverage rates among high-risk populations within the State. + ``(6) Report to congress.--Not later than 4 years after the + date of enactment of the Affordable Health Choices Act, the + Secretary shall submit to Congress a report concerning the + effectiveness of the demonstration program established under + this subsection together with recommendations on whether to + continue and expand such program. + ``(7) Authorization of appropriations.--There is authorized + to be appropriated to carry out this subsection, such sums as + may be necessary for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + + (c) Reauthorization of Immunization Program.--Section 317(j) of the +Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 247b(j)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1), by striking ``for each of the fiscal + years 1998 through 2005''; and + (2) in paragraph (2), by striking ``after October 1, + 1997,''. + + (d) Rule of <> Construction Regarding +Access to Immunizations.--Nothing in this section (including the +amendments made by this section), or any other provision of this Act +(including any amendments made by this Act) shall be construed to +decrease children's access to immunizations. + + (e) GAO Study and Report on Medicare Beneficiary Access to +Vaccines.-- + (1) Study.--The Comptroller General of the United States (in + this section referred to as the ``Comptroller General'') shall + conduct a study on the ability of Medicare beneficiaries who + were 65 years of age or older to access routinely recommended + vaccines covered under the prescription drug program under part + D of title XVIII of the Social Security Act over the period + since the establishment of such program. Such study shall + include the following: + (A) An analysis and determination of-- + (i) the number of Medicare beneficiaries who + were 65 years of age or older and were eligible + for a routinely recommended vaccination that was + covered under part D; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 573]] + + (ii) the number of such beneficiaries who + actually received a routinely recommended + vaccination that was covered under part D; and + (iii) any barriers to access by such + beneficiaries to routinely recommended + vaccinations that were covered under part D. + (B) A summary of the findings and recommendations by + government agencies, departments, and advisory bodies + (as well as relevant professional organizations) on the + impact of coverage under part D of routinely recommended + adult immunizations for access to such immunizations by + Medicare beneficiaries. + (2) Report.--Not later than June 1, 2011, the Comptroller + General shall submit to the appropriate committees of + jurisdiction of the House of Representatives and the Senate a + report containing the results of the study conducted under + paragraph (1), together with recommendations for such + legislation and administrative action as the Comptroller General + determines appropriate. + (3) Funding.--Out of any funds in the Treasury not otherwise + appropriated, there are appropriated $1,000,000 for fiscal year + 2010 to carry out this subsection. + +SEC. 4205. NUTRITION LABELING OF STANDARD MENU ITEMS AT CHAIN + RESTAURANTS. + + (a) Technical Amendments.--Section 403(q)(5)(A) of the Federal Food, +Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 343(q)(5)(A)) is amended-- + (1) in subitem (i), by inserting at the beginning ``except + as provided in clause (H)(ii)(III),''; and + (2) in subitem (ii), by inserting at the beginning ``except + as provided in clause (H)(ii)(III),''. + + (b) Labeling Requirements.--Section 403(q)(5) of the Federal Food, +Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 343(q)(5)) is amended by adding at the +end the following: + ``(H) Restaurants, Retail Food Establishments, and Vending +Machines.-- + ``(i) General requirements for restaurants and similar + retail food establishments.--Except for food described in + subclause (vii), in the case of food that is a standard menu + item that is offered for sale in a restaurant or similar retail + food establishment that is part of a chain with 20 or more + locations doing business under the same name (regardless of the + type of ownership of the locations) and offering for sale + substantially the same menu items, the restaurant or similar + retail food establishment shall disclose the information + described in subclauses (ii) and (iii). + ``(ii) Information required to be disclosed by restaurants + and retail food establishments.--Except as provided in subclause + (vii), the restaurant or similar retail food establishment shall + disclose in a clear and conspicuous manner-- + ``(I)(aa) in a nutrient content disclosure statement + adjacent to the name of the standard menu item, so as to + be clearly associated with the standard menu item, on + the menu listing the item for sale, the number of + calories + +[[Page 124 STAT. 574]] + + contained in the standard menu item, as usually prepared + and offered for sale; and + ``(bb) a succinct statement concerning suggested + daily caloric intake, as specified by the Secretary by + regulation and posted prominently on the menu and + designed to enable the public to understand, in the + context of a total daily diet, the significance of the + caloric information that is provided on the menu; + ``(II)(aa) in a nutrient content disclosure + statement adjacent to the name of the standard menu + item, so as to be clearly associated with the standard + menu item, on the menu board, including a drive-through + menu board, the number of calories contained in the + standard menu item, as usually prepared and offered for + sale; and + ``(bb) a succinct statement concerning suggested + daily caloric intake, as specified by the Secretary by + regulation and posted prominently on the menu board, + designed to enable the public to understand, in the + context of a total daily diet, the significance of the + nutrition information that is provided on the menu + board; + ``(III) in a written form, available on the premises of the + restaurant or similar retail establishment and to the consumer + upon request, the nutrition information required under clauses + (C) and (D) of subparagraph (1); and + ``(IV) on the menu or menu board, a prominent, clear, and + conspicuous statement regarding the availability of the + information described in item (III). + ``(iii) Self-service food and food on display.--Except as + provided in subclause (vii), in the case of food sold at a salad + bar, buffet line, cafeteria line, or similar self-service + facility, and for self-service beverages or food that is on + display and that is visible to customers, a restaurant or + similar retail food establishment shall place adjacent to each + food offered a sign that lists calories per displayed food item + or per serving. + ``(iv) Reasonable basis.--For the purposes of this clause, a + restaurant or similar retail food establishment shall have a + reasonable basis for its nutrient content disclosures, including + nutrient databases, cookbooks, laboratory analyses, and other + reasonable means, as described in section 101.10 of title 21, + Code of Federal Regulations (or any successor regulation) or in + a related guidance of the Food and Drug Administration. + ``(v) Menu variability and combination meals.--The Secretary + shall establish by regulation standards for determining and + disclosing the nutrient content for standard menu items that + come in different flavors, varieties, or combinations, but which + are listed as a single menu item, such as soft drinks, ice + cream, pizza, doughnuts, or children's combination meals, + through means determined by the Secretary, including ranges, + averages, or other methods. + ``(vi) Additional information.--If the Secretary determines + that a nutrient, other than a nutrient required under subclause + (ii)(III), should be disclosed for the purpose of providing + information to assist consumers in maintaining healthy dietary + practices, the Secretary may require, by regulation, disclosure + of such nutrient in the written form required under subclause + (ii)(III). + ``(vii) Nonapplicability to certain food.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 575]] + + ``(I) In general.--Subclauses (i) through (vi) do + not apply to-- + ``(aa) items that are not listed on a menu or + menu board (such as condiments and other items + placed on the table or counter for general use); + ``(bb) daily specials, temporary menu items + appearing on the menu for less than 60 days per + calendar year, or custom orders; or + ``(cc) such other food that is part of a + customary market test appearing on the menu for + less than 90 days, under terms and conditions + established by the Secretary. + ``(II) Written <> forms.-- + Subparagraph (5)(C) shall apply to any regulations + promulgated under subclauses (ii)(III) and (vi). + ``(viii) Vending machines.-- + ``(I) In general.--In the case of an article of food + sold from a vending machine that-- + ``(aa) does not permit a prospective purchaser + to examine the Nutrition Facts Panel before + purchasing the article or does not otherwise + provide visible nutrition information at the point + of purchase; and + ``(bb) is operated by a person who is engaged + in the business of owning or operating 20 or more + vending machines, + the vending machine operator shall provide a sign in + close proximity to each article of food or the selection + button that includes a clear and conspicuous statement + disclosing the number of calories contained in the + article. + ``(ix) Voluntary provision of nutrition information.-- + ``(I) In general.--An authorized official of any + restaurant or similar retail food establishment or + vending machine operator not subject to the requirements + of this clause may elect to be subject to the + requirements of such clause, by registering biannually + the name and address of such restaurant or similar + retail food establishment or vending machine operator + with the Secretary, as specified by the Secretary by + regulation. + ``(II) Registration.-- + Within <> 120 days of enactment of this clause, the + Secretary shall publish a notice in the Federal Register + specifying the terms and conditions for implementation + of item (I), pending promulgation of regulations. + ``(III) Rule of construction.--Nothing in this + subclause shall be construed to authorize the Secretary + to require an application, review, or licensing process + for any entity to register with the Secretary, as + described in such item. + ``(x) Regulations.-- + ``(I) Proposed <> regulation.--Not + later than 1 year after the date of enactment of this + clause, the Secretary shall promulgate proposed + regulations to carry out this clause. + ``(II) Contents.--In promulgating regulations, the + Secretary shall-- + ``(aa) consider standardization of recipes and + methods of preparation, reasonable variation in + serving + +[[Page 124 STAT. 576]] + + size and formulation of menu items, space on menus + and menu boards, inadvertent human error, training + of food service workers, variations in + ingredients, and other factors, as the Secretary + determines; and + ``(bb) specify the format and manner of the + nutrient content disclosure requirements under + this subclause. + ``(III) Reporting.--The Secretary shall submit to + the Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions + of the Senate and the Committee on Energy and Commerce + of the House of Representatives a quarterly report that + describes the Secretary's progress toward promulgating + final regulations under this subparagraph. + ``(xi) Definition.--In this clause, the term `menu' or `menu + board' means the primary writing of the restaurant or other + similar retail food establishment from which a consumer makes an + order selection.'' + + (c) National Uniformity.--Section 403A(a)(4) of the Federal Food, +Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 343-1(a)(4)) is amended by striking +``except a requirement for nutrition labeling of food which is exempt +under subclause (i) or (ii) of section 403(q)(5)(A)'' and inserting +``except that this paragraph does not apply to food that is offered for +sale in a restaurant or similar retail food establishment that is not +part of a chain with 20 or more locations doing business under the same +name (regardless of the type of ownership of the locations) and offering +for sale substantially the same menu items unless such restaurant or +similar retail food establishment complies with the voluntary provision +of nutrition information requirements under section 403(q)(5)(H)(ix)''. + (d) Rule of <> Construction.--Nothing in the +amendments made by this section shall be construed-- + (1) to preempt any provision of State or local law, unless + such provision establishes or continues into effect nutrient + content disclosures of the type required under section + 403(q)(5)(H) of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (as + added by subsection (b)) and is expressly preempted under + subsection (a)(4) of such section; + (2) to apply to any State or local requirement respecting a + statement in the labeling of food that provides for a warning + concerning the safety of the food or component of the food; or + (3) except as provided in section 403(q)(5)(H)(ix) of the + Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (as added by subsection + (b)), to apply to any restaurant or similar retail food + establishment other than a restaurant or similar retail food + establishment described in section 403(q)(5)(H)(i) of such Act. + +SEC. 4206. DEMONSTRATION PROJECT CONCERNING INDIVIDUALIZED WELLNESS + PLAN. + + Section 330 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 245b) is +amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(s) Demonstration Program for Individualized Wellness Plans.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall establish a pilot + program to test the impact of providing at-risk populations who + utilize community health centers funded under this section an + individualized wellness plan that is designed to reduce risk + +[[Page 124 STAT. 577]] + + factors for preventable conditions as identified by a + comprehensive risk-factor assessment. + ``(2) Agreements.--The Secretary shall enter into agreements + with not more than 10 community health centers funded under this + section to conduct activities under the pilot program under + paragraph (1). + ``(3) Wellness plans.-- + ``(A) In general.--An individualized wellness plan + prepared under the pilot program under this subsection + may include one or more of the following as appropriate + to the individual's identified risk factors: + ``(i) Nutritional counseling. + ``(ii) A physical activity plan. + ``(iii) Alcohol and smoking cessation + counseling and services. + ``(iv) Stress management. + ``(v) Dietary supplements that have health + claims approved by the Secretary. + ``(vi) Compliance assistance provided by a + community health center employee. + ``(B) Risk factors.--Wellness plan risk factors + shall include-- + ``(i) weight; + ``(ii) tobacco and alcohol use; + ``(iii) exercise rates; + ``(iv) nutritional status; and + ``(v) blood pressure. + ``(C) Comparisons.--Individualized wellness plans + shall make comparisons between the individual involved + and a control group of individuals with respect to the + risk factors described in subparagraph (B). + ``(4) Authorization of appropriations.--There is authorized + to be appropriated to carry out this subsection, such sums as + may be necessary.''. + +SEC. 4207. REASONABLE BREAK TIME FOR NURSING MOTHERS. + + Section 7 of the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938 (29 U.S.C. 207) is +amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(r)(1) An employer shall provide-- + ``(A) a reasonable break time for an employee to express + breast milk for her nursing child for 1 year after the child's + birth each time such employee has need to express the milk; and + ``(B) a place, other than a bathroom, that is shielded from + view and free from intrusion from coworkers and the public, + which may be used by an employee to express breast milk. + + ``(2) An employer shall not be required to compensate an employee +receiving reasonable break time under paragraph (1) for any work time +spent for such purpose. + ``(3) An employer that employs less than 50 employees shall not be +subject to the requirements of this subsection, if such requirements +would impose an undue hardship by causing the employer significant +difficulty or expense when considered in relation to the size, financial +resources, nature, or structure of the employer's business. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 578]] + + ``(4) Nothing in this subsection shall preempt a State law that +provides greater protections to employees than the protections provided +for under this subsection.''. + + Subtitle D--Support for Prevention and Public Health Innovation + +SEC. 4301. RESEARCH <> ON OPTIMIZING THE DELIVERY + OF PUBLIC HEALTH SERVICES. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services +(referred to in this section as the ``Secretary''), acting through the +Director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, shall +provide funding for research in the area of public health services and +systems. + (b) Requirements of Research.--Research supported under this section +shall include-- + (1) examining evidence-based practices relating to + prevention, with a particular focus on high priority areas as + identified by the Secretary in the National Prevention Strategy + or Healthy People 2020, and including comparing community-based + public health interventions in terms of effectiveness and cost; + (2) analyzing the translation of interventions from academic + settings to real world settings; and + (3) identifying effective strategies for organizing, + financing, or delivering public health services in real world + community settings, including comparing State and local health + department structures and systems in terms of effectiveness and + cost. + + (c) Existing Partnerships.--Research supported under this section +shall be coordinated with the Community Preventive Services Task Force +and carried out by building on existing partnerships within the Federal +Government while also considering initiatives at the State and local +levels and in the private sector. + (d) Annual Report.--The Secretary shall, on an annual basis, submit +to Congress a report concerning the activities and findings with respect +to research supported under this section. + +SEC. 4302. UNDERSTANDING HEALTH DISPARITIES: DATA COLLECTION AND + ANALYSIS. + + (a) Uniform Categories and Collection Requirements.--The Public +Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 201 et seq.) is amended by adding at the +end the following: + + ``TITLE XXXI--DATA COLLECTION, ANALYSIS, AND QUALITY + +``SEC. 3101. <> DATA COLLECTION, ANALYSIS, AND + QUALITY. + + ``(a) Data Collection.-- + ``(1) In <> general.--The Secretary shall + ensure that, by not later than 2 years after the date of + enactment of this title, any federally conducted or supported + health care or public health program, activity or survey + (including Current Population Surveys and American Community + Surveys conducted + +[[Page 124 STAT. 579]] + + by the Bureau of Labor Statistics and the Bureau of the Census) + collects and reports, to the extent practicable-- + ``(A) data on race, ethnicity, sex, primary + language, and disability status for applicants, + recipients, or participants; + ``(B) data at the smallest geographic level such as + State, local, or institutional levels if such data can + be aggregated; + ``(C) sufficient data to generate statistically + reliable estimates by racial, ethnic, sex, primary + language, and disability status subgroups for + applicants, recipients or participants using, if needed, + statistical oversamples of these subpopulations; and + ``(D) any other demographic data as deemed + appropriate by the Secretary regarding health + disparities. + ``(2) Collection standards.--In collecting data described in + paragraph (1), the Secretary or designee shall-- + ``(A) use Office of Management and Budget standards, + at a minimum, for race and ethnicity measures; + ``(B) develop standards for the measurement of sex, + primary language, and disability status; + ``(C) develop standards for the collection of data + described in paragraph (1) that, at a minimum-- + ``(i) collects self-reported data by the + applicant, recipient, or participant; and + ``(ii) collects data from a parent or legal + guardian if the applicant, recipient, or + participant is a minor or legally incapacitated; + ``(D) survey health care providers and establish + other procedures in order to assess access to care and + treatment for individuals with disabilities and to + identify-- + ``(i) locations where individuals with + disabilities access primary, acute (including + intensive), and long-term care; + ``(ii) the number of providers with accessible + facilities and equipment to meet the needs of the + individuals with disabilities, including medical + diagnostic equipment that meets the minimum + technical criteria set forth in section 510 of the + Rehabilitation Act of 1973; and + ``(iii) the number of employees of health care + providers trained in disability awareness and + patient care of individuals with disabilities; and + ``(E) require that any reporting requirement imposed + for purposes of measuring quality under any ongoing or + federally conducted or supported health care or public + health program, activity, or survey includes + requirements for the collection of data on individuals + receiving health care items or services under such + programs activities by race, ethnicity, sex, primary + language, and disability status. + ``(3) Data management.--In collecting data described in + paragraph (1), the Secretary, acting through the National + Coordinator for Health Information Technology shall-- + ``(A) develop <> national + standards for the management of data collected; and + ``(B) develop interoperability and security systems + for data management. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 580]] + + ``(b) Data Analysis.-- + ``(1) In general.--For each federally conducted or supported + health care or public health program or activity, the Secretary + shall analyze data collected under paragraph (a) to detect and + monitor trends in health disparities (as defined for purposes of + section 485E) at the Federal and State levels. + + ``(c) Data Reporting and Dissemination.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall make the analyses + described in (b) available to-- + ``(A) the Office of Minority Health; + ``(B) the National Center on Minority Health and + Health Disparities; + ``(C) the Agency for Healthcare Research and + Quality; + ``(D) the Centers for Disease Control and + Prevention; + ``(E) the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services; + ``(F) the Indian Health Service and epidemiology + centers funded under the Indian Health Care Improvement + Act; + ``(G) the Office of Rural health; + ``(H) other agencies within the Department of Health + and Human Services; and + ``(I) other entities as determined appropriate by + the Secretary. + ``(2) Reporting of data.--The Secretary shall report data + and analyses described in (a) and (b) through-- + ``(A) public <> postings on the Internet websites of the + Department of Health and Human Services; and + ``(B) any other reporting or dissemination + mechanisms determined appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(3) Availability of data.--The Secretary may make data + described in (a) and (b) available for additional research, + analyses, and dissemination to other Federal agencies, non- + governmental entities, and the public, in accordance with any + Federal agency's data user agreements. + + ``(d) Limitations on Use of Data.--Nothing in this section shall be +construed to permit the use of information collected under this section +in a manner that would adversely affect any individual. + ``(e) Protection and Sharing of Data.-- + ``(1) Privacy and other safeguards.--The Secretary shall + ensure (through the promulgation of regulations or otherwise) + that-- + ``(A) all data collected pursuant to subsection (a) + is protected-- + ``(i) under privacy protections that are at + least as broad as those that the Secretary applies + to other health data under the regulations + promulgated under section 264(c) of the Health + Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of + 1996 (Public Law 104-191; 110 Stat. 2033); and + ``(ii) from all inappropriate internal use by + any entity that collects, stores, or receives the + data, including use of such data in determinations + of eligibility (or continued eligibility) in + health plans, and from other inappropriate uses, + as defined by the Secretary; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 581]] + + ``(B) all appropriate information security + safeguards are used in the collection, analysis, and + sharing of data collected pursuant to subsection (a). + ``(2) Data <> sharing.--The Secretary + shall establish procedures for sharing data collected pursuant + to subsection (a), measures relating to such data, and analyses + of such data, with other relevant Federal and State agencies + including the agencies, centers, and entities within the + Department of Health and Human Services specified in subsection + (c)(1).. + + ``(f) Data on Rural Underserved Populations.--The Secretary shall +ensure that any data collected in accordance with this section regarding +racial and ethnic minority groups are also collected regarding +underserved rural and frontier populations. + ``(g) Authorization of Appropriations.--For the purpose of carrying +out this section, there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as +may be necessary for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014. + ``(h) Requirement for Implementation.--Notwithstanding any other +provision of this section, data may not be collected under this section +unless funds are directly appropriated for such purpose in an +appropriations Act. + ``(i) Consultation.--The Secretary shall consult with the Director +of the Office of Personnel Management, the Secretary of Defense, the +Secretary of Veterans Affairs, the Director of the Bureau of the Census, +the Commissioner of Social Security, and the head of other appropriate +Federal agencies in carrying out this section.''. + (b) Addressing Health Care Disparities in Medicaid and CHIP.-- + (1) Standardized collection requirements included in state + plans.-- + (A) Medicaid.--Section 1902(a) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)), as amended by section + 2001(d), is amended-- + (i) in paragraph 4), by striking ``and'' at + the end; + (ii) in paragraph (75), by striking the period + at the end and inserting ``; and''; and + (iii) by inserting after paragraph (75) the + following new paragraph: + ``(76) provide that any data collected under the State plan + meets the requirements of section 3101 of the Public Health + Service Act.''. + (B) CHIP.--Section 2108(e) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1397hh(e)) is amended by adding at the + end the following new paragraph: + ``(7) Data collected and reported in accordance with section + 3101 of the Public Health Service Act, with respect to + individuals enrolled in the State child health plan (and, in the + case of enrollees under 19 years of age, their parents or legal + guardians), including data regarding the primary language of + such individuals, parents, and legal guardians.''. + (2) Extending medicare requirement to address health + disparities data collection to medicaid and chip.--Title XIX of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396 et seq.), as amended by + section 2703 is amended by adding at the end the following new + section: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 582]] + +``SEC. 1946. <> ADDRESSING HEALTH CARE + DISPARITIES. + + ``(a) Evaluating Data Collection Approaches.--The Secretary shall +evaluate approaches for the collection of data under this title and +title XXI, to be performed in conjunction with existing quality +reporting requirements and programs under this title and title XXI, that +allow for the ongoing, accurate, and timely collection and evaluation of +data on disparities in health care services and performance on the basis +of race, ethnicity, sex, primary language, and disability status. In +conducting such evaluation, the Secretary shall consider the following +objectives: + ``(1) Protecting patient privacy. + ``(2) Minimizing the administrative burdens of data + collection and reporting on States, providers, and health plans + participating under this title or title XXI. + ``(3) Improving program data under this title and title XXI + on race, ethnicity, sex, primary language, and disability + status. + + ``(b) Reports to Congress.-- + ``(1) Report on evaluation.--Not later than 18 months after + the date of the enactment of this section, the Secretary shall + submit to Congress a report on the evaluation conducted under + subsection (a). Such report shall, taking into consideration the + results of such evaluation-- + ``(A) identify approaches (including defining + methodologies) for identifying and collecting and + evaluating data on health care disparities on the basis + of race, ethnicity, sex, primary language, and + disability status for the programs under this title and + title XXI; and + ``(B) include recommendations on the most effective + strategies and approaches to reporting HEDIS quality + measures as required under section 1852(e)(3) and other + nationally recognized quality performance measures, as + appropriate, on such bases. + ``(2) Reports on data analyses.--Not later than 4 years + after the date of the enactment of this section, and 4 years + thereafter, the Secretary shall submit to Congress a report that + includes recommendations for improving the identification of + health care disparities for beneficiaries under this title and + under title XXI based on analyses of the data collected under + subsection (c). + + ``(c) Implementing <> Effective Approaches.--Not +later than 24 months after the date of the enactment of this section, +the Secretary shall implement the approaches identified in the report +submitted under subsection (b)(1) for the ongoing, accurate, and timely +collection and evaluation of data on health care disparities on the +basis of race, ethnicity, sex, primary language, and disability +status.''. + +SEC. 4303. CDC AND EMPLOYER-BASED WELLNESS PROGRAMS. + + Title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 241 et seq.), +by section 4102, is further amended by adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 583]] + + ``PART U--EMPLOYER-BASED WELLNESS PROGRAM + +``SEC. 399MM. <> TECHNICAL ASSISTANCE FOR EMPLOYER- + BASED WELLNESS PROGRAMS. + + ``In order to expand the utilization of evidence-based prevention +and health promotion approaches in the workplace, the Director shall-- + ``(1) provide employers (including small, medium, and large + employers, as determined by the Director) with technical + assistance, consultation, tools, and other resources in + evaluating such employers' employer-based wellness programs, + including-- + ``(A) measuring the participation and methods to + increase participation of employees in such programs; + ``(B) developing standardized measures that assess + policy, environmental and systems changes necessary to + have a positive health impact on employees' health + behaviors, health outcomes, and health care + expenditures; and + ``(C) evaluating such programs as they relate to + changes in the health status of employees, the + absenteeism of employees, the productivity of employees, + the rate of workplace injury, and the medical costs + incurred by employees; and + ``(2) build evaluation capacity among workplace staff by + training employers on how to evaluate employer-based wellness + programs by ensuring evaluation resources, technical assistance, + and consultation are available to workplace staff as needed + through such mechanisms as web portals, call centers, or other + means. + +``SEC. 399MM-1. <> NATIONAL WORKSITE HEALTH + POLICIES AND PROGRAMS STUDY. + + ``(a) In <> General.--In order to +assess, analyze, and monitor over time data about workplace policies and +programs, and to develop instruments to assess and evaluate +comprehensive workplace chronic disease prevention and health promotion +programs, policies and practices, not later than 2 years after the date +of enactment of this part, and at regular intervals (to be determined by +the Director) thereafter, the Director shall conduct a national worksite +health policies and programs survey to assess employer-based health +policies and programs. + + ``(b) Report.--Upon the completion of each study under subsection +(a), the Director shall submit to Congress a report that includes the +recommendations of the Director for the implementation of effective +employer-based health policies and programs. + +``SEC. 399MM-2. <> PRIORITIZATION OF EVALUATION BY + SECRETARY. + + ``The Secretary shall evaluate, in accordance with this part, all +programs funded through the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention +before conducting such an evaluation of privately funded programs unless +an entity with a privately funded wellness program requests such an +evaluation. + +``SEC. 399MM-3. <> PROHIBITION OF FEDERAL + WORKPLACE WELLNESS REQUIREMENTS. + + ``Notwithstanding any other provision of this part, any +recommendations, data, or assessments carried out under this part + +[[Page 124 STAT. 584]] + +shall not be used to mandate requirements for workplace wellness +programs.''. + +SEC. 4304. EPIDEMIOLOGY-LABORATORY CAPACITY GRANTS. + + Title XXVIII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300hh et +seq.) is amended by adding at the end the following: + + ``Subtitle C--Strengthening Public Health Surveillance Systems + +``SEC. 2821. <> EPIDEMIOLOGY-LABORATORY CAPACITY + GRANTS. + + ``(a) In General.--Subject to the availability of appropriations, +the Secretary, acting through the Director of the Centers for Disease +Control and Prevention, shall establish an Epidemiology and Laboratory +Capacity Grant Program to award grants to State health departments as +well as local health departments and tribal jurisdictions that meet such +criteria as the Director determines appropriate. Academic centers that +assist State and eligible local and tribal health departments may also +be eligible for funding under this section as the Director determines +appropriate. Grants shall be awarded under this section to assist public +health agencies in improving surveillance for, and response to, +infectious diseases and other conditions of public health importance +by-- + ``(1) strengthening epidemiologic capacity to identify and + monitor the occurrence of infectious diseases and other + conditions of public health importance; + ``(2) enhancing laboratory practice as well as systems to + report test orders and results electronically; + ``(3) improving information systems including developing and + maintaining an information exchange using national guidelines + and complying with capacities and functions determined by an + advisory council established and appointed by the Director; and + ``(4) developing and implementing prevention and control + strategies. + + ``(b) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section $190,000,000 for each of fiscal +years 2010 through 2013, of which-- + ``(1) not less than $95,000,000 shall be made available each + such fiscal year for activities under paragraphs (1) and (4) of + subsection (a); + ``(2) not less than $60,000,000 shall be made available each + such fiscal year for activities under subsection (a)(3); and + ``(3) not less than $32,000,000 shall be made available each + such fiscal year for activities under subsection (a)(2).''. + +SEC. 4305. ADVANCING RESEARCH AND TREATMENT FOR PAIN CARE MANAGEMENT. + + (a) Institute of Medicine Conference on Pain.-- + (1) Convening.--Not <> later + than 1 year after funds are appropriated to carry out this + subsection, the Secretary of Health and Human Services shall + seek to enter into an agreement with the Institute of Medicine + of the National Academies to convene a Conference on Pain (in + this subsection referred to as ``the Conference''). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 585]] + + (2) Purposes.--The purposes of the Conference shall be to-- + (A) increase the recognition of pain as a + significant public health problem in the United States; + (B) evaluate the adequacy of assessment, diagnosis, + treatment, and management of acute and chronic pain in + the general population, and in identified racial, + ethnic, gender, age, and other demographic groups that + may be disproportionately affected by inadequacies in + the assessment, diagnosis, treatment, and management of + pain; + (C) identify barriers to appropriate pain care; + (D) establish an agenda for action in both the + public and private sectors that will reduce such + barriers and significantly improve the state of pain + care research, education, and clinical care in the + United States. + (3) Other appropriate entity.--If the Institute of Medicine + declines to enter into an agreement under paragraph (1), the + Secretary of Health and Human Services may enter into such + agreement with another appropriate entity. + (4) Report.--A report summarizing the Conference's findings + and recommendations shall be submitted to the Congress not later + than June 30, 2011. + (5) Authorization of appropriations.--For the purpose of + carrying out this subsection, there is authorized to be + appropriated such sums as may be necessary for each of fiscal + years 2010 and 2011. + + (b) Pain Research at National Institutes of Health.--Part B of title +IV of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 284 et seq.) is amended +by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 409J. <> PAIN RESEARCH. + + ``(a) Research Initiatives.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Director of NIH is encouraged to + continue and expand, through the Pain Consortium, an aggressive + program of basic and clinical research on the causes of and + potential treatments for pain. + ``(2) Annual recommendations.--Not less than annually, the + Pain Consortium, in consultation with the Division of Program + Coordination, Planning, and Strategic Initiatives, shall develop + and submit to the Director of NIH recommendations on appropriate + pain research initiatives that could be undertaken with funds + reserved under section 402A(c)(1) for the Common Fund or + otherwise available for such initiatives. + ``(3) Definition.--In this subsection, the term `Pain + Consortium' means the Pain Consortium of the National Institutes + of Health or a similar trans-National Institutes of Health + coordinating entity designated by the Secretary for purposes of + this subsection. + + ``(b) Interagency Pain Research Coordinating Committee.-- + ``(1) Establishment.--The <> Secretary + shall establish not later than 1 year after the date of the + enactment of this section and as necessary maintain a committee, + to be known as the Interagency Pain Research Coordinating + Committee (in this section referred to as the `Committee'), to + coordinate all efforts within the Department of Health and Human + Services and other Federal agencies that relate to pain + research. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 586]] + + ``(2) Membership.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Committee shall be composed + of the following voting members: + ``(i) Not more than 7 voting Federal + representatives appoint by the Secretary from + agencies that conduct pain care research and + treatment. + ``(ii) 12 additional voting members appointed + under subparagraph (B). + ``(B) Additional members.--The Committee shall + include additional voting members appointed by the + Secretary as follows: + ``(i) 6 non-Federal members shall be appointed + from among scientists, physicians, and other + health professionals. + ``(ii) 6 members shall be appointed from + members of the general public, who are + representatives of leading research, advocacy, and + service organizations for individuals with pain- + related conditions. + ``(C) Nonvoting members.--The Committee shall + include such nonvoting members as the Secretary + determines to be appropriate. + ``(3) Chairperson.--The voting members of the Committee + shall select a chairperson from among such members. The + selection of a chairperson shall be subject to the approval of + the Director of NIH. + ``(4) Meetings.--The Committee shall meet at the call of the + chairperson of the Committee or upon the request of the Director + of NIH, but in no case less often than once each year. + ``(5) Duties.--The Committee shall-- + ``(A) develop a summary of advances in pain care + research supported or conducted by the Federal agencies + relevant to the diagnosis, prevention, and treatment of + pain and diseases and disorders associated with pain; + ``(B) identify critical gaps in basic and clinical + research on the symptoms and causes of pain; + ``(C) make recommendations to ensure that the + activities of the National Institutes of Health and + other Federal agencies are free of unnecessary + duplication of effort; + ``(D) make recommendations on how best to + disseminate information on pain care; and + ``(E) make recommendations on how to expand + partnerships between public entities and private + entities to expand collaborative, cross-cutting + research. + ``(6) Review.--The Secretary shall review the necessity of + the Committee at least once every 2 years.''. + + (c) Pain Care Education and Training.--Part D of title VII of the +Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 294 et seq.) is amended by adding +at the end the following new section: + +``SEC. 759. PROGRAM <> FOR EDUCATION AND TRAINING IN + PAIN CARE. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary may make awards of grants, +cooperative agreements, and contracts to health professions schools, +hospices, and other public and private entities for the development and +implementation of programs to provide education and training to health +care professionals in pain care. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 587]] + + ``(b) Certain Topics.--An award may be made under subsection (a) +only if the applicant for the award agrees that the program carried out +with the award will include information and education on-- + ``(1) recognized means for assessing, diagnosing, treating, + and managing pain and related signs and symptoms, including the + medically appropriate use of controlled substances; + ``(2) applicable laws, regulations, rules, and policies on + controlled substances, including the degree to which + misconceptions and concerns regarding such laws, regulations, + rules, and policies, or the enforcement thereof, may create + barriers to patient access to appropriate and effective pain + care; + ``(3) interdisciplinary approaches to the delivery of pain + care, including delivery through specialized centers providing + comprehensive pain care treatment expertise; + ``(4) cultural, linguistic, literacy, geographic, and other + barriers to care in underserved populations; and + ``(5) recent findings, developments, and improvements in the + provision of pain care. + + ``(c) Evaluation <> of Programs.--The +Secretary shall (directly or through grants or contracts) provide for +the evaluation of programs implemented under subsection (a) in order to +determine the effect of such programs on knowledge and practice of pain +care. + + ``(d) Pain Care Defined.--For purposes of this section the term +`pain care' means the assessment, diagnosis, treatment, or management of +acute or chronic pain regardless of causation or body location. + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriations.--There is authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section, such sums as may be necessary +for each of the fiscal years 2010 through 2012. Amounts appropriated +under this subsection shall remain available until expended.''. + +SEC. 4306. FUNDING FOR CHILDHOOD OBESITY DEMONSTRATION PROJECT. + + Section 1139A(e)(8) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320b- +9a(e)(8)) is amended to read as follows: + ``(8) Appropriation.--Out of any funds in the Treasury not + otherwise appropriated, there is appropriated to carry out this + subsection, $25,000,000 for the period of fiscal years 2010 + through 2014.''. + + Subtitle E--Miscellaneous Provisions + +SEC. 4401. SENSE OF THE SENATE CONCERNING CBO SCORING. + + (a) Finding.--The Senate finds that the costs of prevention programs +are difficult to estimate due in part because prevention initiatives are +hard to measure and results may occur outside the 5 and 10 year budget +windows. + (b) Sense of Congress.--It is the sense of the Senate that Congress +should work with the Congressional Budget Office to develop better +methodologies for scoring progress to be made in prevention and wellness +programs. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 588]] + +SEC. 4402. EFFECTIVENESS OF FEDERAL HEALTH AND WELLNESS INITIATIVES. + + To determine whether existing Federal health and wellness +initiatives are effective in achieving their stated goals, the Secretary +of Health and Human Services shall-- + (1) conduct <> an evaluation of such + programs as they relate to changes in health status of the + American public and specifically on the health status of the + Federal workforce, including absenteeism of employees, the + productivity of employees, the rate of workplace injury, and the + medical costs incurred by employees, and health conditions, + including workplace fitness, healthy food and beverages, and + incentives in the Federal Employee Health Benefits Program; and + (2) <> submit to Congress a report + concerning such evaluation, which shall include conclusions + concerning the reasons that such existing programs have proven + successful or not successful and what factors contributed to + such conclusions. + + TITLE V--HEALTH CARE WORKFORCE + + Subtitle A--Purpose and Definitions + +SEC. 5001. <> PURPOSE. + + The purpose of this title is to improve access to and the delivery +of health care services for all individuals, particularly low income, +underserved, uninsured, minority, health disparity, and rural +populations by-- + (1) gathering and assessing comprehensive data in order for + the health care workforce to meet the health care needs of + individuals, including research on the supply, demand, + distribution, diversity, and skills needs of the health care + workforce; + (2) increasing the supply of a qualified health care + workforce to improve access to and the delivery of health care + services for all individuals; + (3) enhancing health care workforce education and training + to improve access to and the delivery of health care services + for all individuals; and + (4) providing support to the existing health care workforce + to improve access to and the delivery of health care services + for all individuals. + +SEC. 5002. <> DEFINITIONS. + + (a) This Title.--In this title: + (1) Allied health professional.--The term ``allied health + professional'' means an allied health professional as defined in + section 799B(5) of the Public Heath Service Act (42 U.S.C. + 295p(5)) who-- + (A) has graduated and received an allied health + professions degree or certificate from an institution of + higher education; and + (B) is employed with a Federal, State, local or + tribal public health agency, or in a setting where + patients might require health care services, including + acute care facilities, ambulatory care facilities, + personal residences, and other + +[[Page 124 STAT. 589]] + + settings located in health professional shortage areas, + medically underserved areas, or medically underserved + populations, as recognized by the Secretary of Health + and Human Services. + (2) Health care career pathway.--The term ``healthcare + career pathway'' means a rigorous, engaging, and high quality + set of courses and services that-- + (A) includes an articulated sequence of academic and + career courses, including 21st century skills; + (B) is aligned with the needs of healthcare + industries in a region or State; + (C) prepares students for entry into the full range + of postsecondary education options, including registered + apprenticeships, and careers; + (D) provides academic and career counseling in + student-to-counselor ratios that allow students to make + informed decisions about academic and career options; + (E) meets State academic standards, State + requirements for secondary school graduation and is + aligned with requirements for entry into postsecondary + education, and applicable industry standards; and + (F) leads to 2 or more credentials, including-- + (i) a secondary school diploma; and + (ii) a postsecondary degree, an apprenticeship + or other occupational certification, a + certificate, or a license. + (3) Institution of higher education.--The term ``institution + of higher education'' has the meaning given the term in sections + 101 and 102 of the Higher Education Act of 1965 (20 U.S.C. 1001 + and 1002). + (4) Low income individual, state workforce investment board, + and local workforce investment board.-- + (A) Low-income individual.--The term ``low-income + individual'' has the meaning given that term in section + 101 of the Workforce investment Act of 1998 (29 U.S.C. + 2801). + (B) State workforce investment board; local + workforce investment board.--The terms ``State workforce + investment board'' and ``local workforce investment + board'', refer to a State workforce investment board + established under section 111 of the Workforce + Investment Act of 1998 (29 U.S.C. 2821) and a local + workforce investment board established under section 117 + of such Act (29 U.S.C. 2832), respectively. + (5) Postsecondary education.--The term ``postsecondary + education'' means-- + (A) a 4-year program of instruction, or not less + than a 1-year program of instruction that is acceptable + for credit toward an associate or a baccalaureate + degree, offered by an institution of higher education; + or + (B) a certificate or registered apprenticeship + program at the postsecondary level offered by an + institution of higher education or a non-profit + educational institution. + (6) Registered apprenticeship program.--The term + ``registered apprenticeship program'' means an industry skills + training program at the postsecondary level that combines + technical and theoretical training through structure on the job + +[[Page 124 STAT. 590]] + + learning with related instruction (in a classroom or through + distance learning) while an individual is employed, working + under the direction of qualified personnel or a mentor, and + earning incremental wage increases aligned to enhance job + proficiency, resulting in the acquisition of a nationally + recognized and portable certificate, under a plan approved by + the Office of Apprenticeship or a State agency recognized by the + Department of Labor. + + (b) Title VII of the Public Health Service Act.--Section 799B of the +Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 295p) is amended-- + (1) by striking paragraph (3) and inserting the following: + ``(3) Physician assistant education program.--The term + `physician assistant education program' means an educational + program in a public or private institution in a State that-- + ``(A) has as its objective the education of + individuals who, upon completion of their studies in the + program, be qualified to provide primary care medical + services with the supervision of a physician; and + ``(B) is accredited by the Accreditation Review + Commission on Education for the Physician Assistant.''; + and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + ``(12) Area health education center.--The term `area health + education center' means a public or nonprofit private + organization that has a cooperative agreement or contract in + effect with an entity that has received an award under + subsection (a)(1) or (a)(2) of section 751, satisfies the + requirements in section 751(d)(1), and has as one of its + principal functions the operation of an area health education + center. Appropriate organizations may include hospitals, health + organizations with accredited primary care training programs, + accredited physician assistant educational programs associated + with a college or university, and universities or colleges not + operating a school of medicine or osteopathic medicine. + ``(13) Area health education center program.--The term `area + health education center program' means cooperative program + consisting of an entity that has received an award under + subsection (a)(1) or (a)(2) of section 751 for the purpose of + planning, developing, operating, and evaluating an area health + education center program and one or more area health education + centers, which carries out the required activities described in + section 751(c), satisfies the program requirements in such + section, has as one of its principal functions identifying and + implementing strategies and activities that address health care + workforce needs in its service area, in coordination with the + local workforce investment boards. + ``(14) Clinical social worker.--The term `clinical social + worker' has the meaning given the term in section 1861(hh)(1) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(hh)(1)). + ``(15) Cultural competency.--The term `cultural competency' + shall be defined by the Secretary in a manner consistent with + section 1707(d)(3). + ``(16) Direct care worker.--The term `direct care worker' + has the meaning given that term in the 2010 Standard + Occupational Classifications of the Department of Labor for Home + Health Aides [31-1011], Psychiatric Aides [31-1013], Nursing + Assistants [31-1014], and Personal Care Aides [39-9021]. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 591]] + + ``(17) Federally qualified health center.--The term + `Federally qualified health center' has the meaning given that + term in section 1861(aa) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395x(aa)). + ``(18) Frontier health professional shortage area.--The term + `frontier health professional shortage area' means an area-- + ``(A) with a population density less than 6 persons + per square mile within the service area; and + ``(B) with respect to which the distance or time for + the population to access care is excessive. + ``(19) Graduate psychology.--The term `graduate psychology' + means an accredited program in professional psychology. + ``(20) Health disparity population.--The term `health + disparity population' has the meaning given such term in section + 903(d)(1). + ``(21) Health literacy.--The term `health literacy' means + the degree to which an individual has the capacity to obtain, + communicate, process, and understand health information and + services in order to make appropriate health decisions. + ``(22) Mental health service professional.--The term `mental + health service professional' means an individual with a graduate + or postgraduate degree from an accredited institution of higher + education in psychiatry, psychology, school psychology, + behavioral pediatrics, psychiatric nursing, social work, school + social work, substance abuse disorder prevention and treatment, + marriage and family counseling, school counseling, or + professional counseling. + ``(23) One-stop delivery system center.--The term `one-stop + delivery system' means a one-stop delivery system described in + section 134(c) of the Workforce Investment Act of 1998 (29 + U.S.C. 2864(c)). + ``(24) Paraprofessional child and adolescent mental health + worker.--The term `paraprofessional child and adolescent mental + health worker' means an individual who is not a mental or + behavioral health service professional, but who works at the + first stage of contact with children and families who are + seeking mental or behavioral health services, including + substance abuse prevention and treatment services. + ``(25) Racial and ethnic minority group; racial and ethnic + minority population.--The terms `racial and ethnic minority + group' and `racial and ethnic minority population' have the + meaning given the term `racial and ethnic minority group' in + section 1707. + ``(26) Rural health clinic.--The term `rural health clinic' + has the meaning given that term in section 1861(aa) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(aa)).''. + + (c) Title VIII of the Public Health Service Act.--Section 801 of the +Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 296) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (2)-- + (A) by striking ``means a'' and inserting ``means an + accredited (as defined in paragraph 6)''; and + (B) by striking the period as inserting the + following: ``where graduates are-- + ``(A) authorized to sit for the National Council + Licensure EXamination-Registered Nurse (NCLEX-RN); or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 592]] + + ``(B) licensed registered nurses who will receive a + graduate or equivalent degree or training to become an + advanced education nurse as defined by section + 811(b).''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + ``(16) Accelerated nursing degree program.--The term + `accelerated nursing degree program' means a program of + education in professional nursing offered by an accredited + school of nursing in which an individual holding a bachelors + degree in another discipline receives a BSN or MSN degree in an + accelerated time frame as determined by the accredited school of + nursing. + ``(17) Bridge or degree completion program.--The term + `bridge or degree completion program' means a program of + education in professional nursing offered by an accredited + school of nursing, as defined in paragraph (2), that leads to a + baccalaureate degree in nursing. Such programs may include, + Registered Nurse (RN) to Bachelor's of Science of Nursing (BSN) + programs, RN to MSN (Master of Science of Nursing) programs, or + BSN to Doctoral programs.''. + + Subtitle B--Innovations in the Health Care Workforce + +SEC. 5101. <> NATIONAL HEALTH CARE WORKFORCE + COMMISSION. + + (a) Purpose.--It is the purpose of this section to establish a +National Health Care Workforce Commission that-- + (1) serves as a national resource for Congress, the + President, States, and localities; + (2) communicates and coordinates with the Departments of + Health and Human Services, Labor, Veterans Affairs, Homeland + Security, and Education on related activities administered by + one or more of such Departments; + (3) develops and commissions evaluations of education and + training activities to determine whether the demand for health + care workers is being met; + (4) identifies barriers to improved coordination at the + Federal, State, and local levels and recommend ways to address + such barriers; and + (5) encourages innovations to address population needs, + constant changes in technology, and other environmental factors. + + (b) Establishment.--There is hereby established the National Health +Care Workforce Commission (in this section referred to as the +``Commission''). + (c) Membership.-- + (1) Number and appointment.--The Commission shall be + composed of 15 members to be appointed by the Comptroller + General, without regard to section 5 of the Federal Advisory + Committee Act (5 U.S.C. App.). + (2) Qualifications.-- + (A) In general.--The membership of the Commission + shall include individuals-- + (i) with national recognition for their + expertise in health care labor market analysis, + including health care workforce analysis; health + care finance and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 593]] + + economics; health care facility management; health + care plans and integrated delivery systems; health + care workforce education and training; health care + philanthropy; providers of health care services; + and other related fields; and + (ii) who will provide a combination of + professional perspectives, broad geographic + representation, and a balance between urban, + suburban, rural, and frontier representatives. + (B) Inclusion.-- + (i) In general.--The membership of the + Commission shall include no less than one + representative of-- + (I) the health care workforce and + health professionals; + (II) employers; + (III) third-party payers; + (IV) individuals skilled in the + conduct and interpretation of health + care services and health economics + research; + (V) representatives of consumers; + (VI) labor unions; + (VII) State or local workforce + investment boards; and + (VIII) educational institutions + (which may include elementary and + secondary institutions, institutions of + higher education, including 2 and 4 year + institutions, or registered + apprenticeship programs). + (ii) Additional members.--The remaining + membership may include additional representatives + from clause (i) and other individuals as + determined appropriate by the Comptroller General + of the United States. + (C) Majority non-providers.--Individuals who are + directly involved in health professions education or + practice shall not constitute a majority of the + membership of the Commission. + (D) Ethical <> disclosure.--The Comptroller General + shall establish a system for public disclosure by + members of the Commission of financial and other + potential conflicts of interest relating to such + members. Members of the Commission shall be treated as + employees of Congress for purposes of applying title I + of the Ethics in Government Act of 1978. Members of the + Commission shall not be treated as special government + employees under title 18, United States Code. + (3) Terms.-- + (A) In general.--The terms of members of the + Commission shall be for 3 years except that the + Comptroller General shall designate staggered terms for + the members first appointed. + (B) Vacancies.--Any member appointed to fill a + vacancy occurring before the expiration of the term for + which the member's predecessor was appointed shall be + appointed only for the remainder of that term. A member + may serve after the expiration of that member's term + until a successor has taken office. A vacancy in the + Commission + +[[Page 124 STAT. 594]] + + shall be filled in the manner in which the original + appointment was made. + (C) Initial appointments.-- + The <> Comptroller General shall make + initial appointments of members to the Commission not + later than September 30, 2010. + (4) Compensation.--While serving on the business of the + Commission (including travel time), a member of the Commission + shall be entitled to compensation at the per diem equivalent of + the rate provided for level IV of the Executive Schedule under + section 5315 of tile 5, United States Code, and while so serving + away from home and the member's regular place of business, a + member may be allowed travel expenses, as authorized by the + Chairman of the <> Commission. Physicians + serving as personnel of the Commission may be provided a + physician comparability allowance by the Commission in the same + manner as Government physicians may be provided such an + allowance by an agency under section 5948 of title 5, United + States Code, and for such purpose subsection (i) of such section + shall apply to the Commission in the same manner as it applies + to the Tennessee Valley Authority. For purposes of pay (other + than pay of members of the Commission) and employment benefits, + rights, and privileges, all personnel of the Commission shall be + treated as if they were employees of the United States Senate. + Personnel of the Commission shall not be treated as employees of + the Government Accountability Office for any purpose. + (5) Chairman, vice chairman.-- + The <> Comptroller General shall designate a + member of the Commission, at the time of appointment of the + member, as Chairman and a member as Vice Chairman for that term + of appointment, except that in the case of vacancy of the + chairmanship or vice chairmanship, the Comptroller General may + designate another member for the remainder of that member's + term. + (6) Meetings.--The Commission shall meet at the call of the + chairman, but no less frequently than on a quarterly basis. + + (d) Duties.-- + (1) Recognition, dissemination, and communication.--The + Commission shall-- + (A) recognize efforts of Federal, State, and local + partnerships to develop and offer health care career + pathways of proven effectiveness; + (B) disseminate information on promising retention + practices for health care professionals; and + (C) communicate information on important policies + and practices that affect the recruitment, education and + training, and retention of the health care workforce. + (2) Review of health care workforce and annual reports.--In + order to develop a fiscally sustainable integrated workforce + that supports a high-quality, readily accessible health care + delivery system that meets the needs of patients and + populations, the Commission, in consultation with relevant + Federal, State, and local agencies, shall-- + (A) review current and projected health care + workforce supply and demand, including the topics + described in paragraph (3); + +[[Page 124 STAT. 595]] + + (B) make recommendations to Congress and the + Administration concerning national health care workforce + priorities, goals, and policies; + (C) by not later than October 1 of each year + (beginning with 2011), submit a report to Congress and + the Administration containing the results of such + reviews and recommendations concerning related policies; + and + (D) by not later than April 1 of each year + (beginning with 2011), submit a report to Congress and + the Administration containing a review of, and + recommendations on, at a minimum one high priority area + as described in paragraph (4). + (3) Specific topics to be reviewed.--The topics described in + this paragraph include-- + (A) current health care workforce supply and + distribution, including demographics, skill sets, and + demands, with projected demands during the subsequent 10 + and 25 year periods; + (B) health care workforce education and training + capacity, including the number of students who have + completed education and training, including registered + apprenticeships; the number of qualified faculty; the + education and training infrastructure; and the education + and training demands, with projected demands during the + subsequent 10 and 25 year periods; + (C) the education loan and grant programs in titles + VII and VIII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. + 292 et seq. and 296 et seq.), with recommendations on + whether such programs should become part of the Higher + Education Act of 1965 (20 U.S.C. 1001 et seq); + (D) the implications of new and existing Federal + policies which affect the health care workforce, + including Medicare and Medicaid graduate medical + education policies, titles VII and VIII of the Public + Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 292 et seq. and 296 et + seq.), the National Health Service Corps (with + recommendations for aligning such programs with national + health workforce priorities and goals), and other health + care workforce programs, including those supported + through the Workforce Investment Act of 1998 (29 U.S.C. + 2801 et seq.), the Carl D. Perkins Career and Technical + Education Act of 2006 (20 U.S.C. 2301 et seq.), the + Higher Education Act of 1965 (20 U.S.C. 1001 et seq.), + and any other Federal health care workforce programs; + (E) the health care workforce needs of special + populations, such as minorities, rural populations, + medically underserved populations, gender specific + needs, individuals with disabilities, and geriatric and + pediatric populations with recommendations for new and + existing Federal policies to meet the needs of these + special populations; and + (F) recommendations creating or revising national + loan repayment programs and scholarship programs to + require low-income, minority medical students to serve + in their home communities, if designated as medical + underserved community. + (4) High priority areas.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 596]] + + (A) In general.--The initial high priority topics + described in this paragraph include each of the + following: + (i) Integrated health care workforce planning + that identifies health care professional skills + needed and maximizes the skill sets of health care + professionals across disciplines. + (ii) An analysis of the nature, scopes of + practice, and demands for health care workers in + the enhanced information technology and management + workplace. + (iii) An analysis of how to align Medicare and + Medicaid graduate medical education policies with + national workforce goals. + (iv) The education and training capacity, + projected demands, and integration with the health + care delivery system of each of the following: + (I) Nursing workforce capacity at + all levels. + (II) Oral health care workforce + capacity at all levels. + (III) Mental and behavioral health + care workforce capacity at all levels. + (IV) Allied health and public health + care workforce capacity at all levels. + (V) Emergency medical service + workforce capacity, including the + retention and recruitment of the + volunteer workforce, at all levels. + (VI) The geographic distribution of + health care providers as compared to the + identified health care workforce needs + of States and regions. + (B) Future determinations.--The Commission may + require that additional topics be included under + subparagraph (A). The appropriate committees of Congress + may recommend to the Commission the inclusion of other + topics for health care workforce development areas that + require special attention. + (5) Grant program.--The Commission shall-- + (A) review <> implementation + progress reports on, and report to Congress about, the + State Health Care Workforce Development Grant program + established in section 5102; + (B) in collaboration with the Department of Labor + and in coordination with the Department of Education and + other relevant Federal agencies, make recommendations to + the fiscal and administrative agent under section + 5102(b) for grant recipients under section 5102; + (C) assess the implementation of the grants under + such section; and + (D) collect performance and report information, + including identified models and best practices, on + grants from the fiscal and administrative agent under + such section and distribute this information to + Congress, relevant Federal agencies, and to the public. + (6) Study.--The Commission shall study effective mechanisms + for financing education and training for careers in health care, + including public health and allied health. + (7) Recommendations.--The Commission shall submit + recommendations to Congress, the Department of Labor, and the + Department of Health and Human Services about improving + +[[Page 124 STAT. 597]] + + safety, health, and worker protections in the workplace for the + health care workforce. + (8) Assessment.--The Commission shall assess and receive + reports from the National Center for Health Care Workforce + Analysis established under section 761(b) of the Public Service + Health Act (as amended by section 5103). + + (e) Consultation With Federal, State, and Local Agencies, Congress, +and Other Organizations.-- + (1) In general.--The Commission shall consult with Federal + agencies (including the Departments of Health and Human + Services, Labor, Education, Commerce, Agriculture, Defense, and + Veterans Affairs and the Environmental Protection Agency), + Congress, the Medicare Payment Advisory Commission, the Medicaid + and CHIP Payment and Access Commission, and, to the extent + practicable, with State and local agencies, Indian tribes, + voluntary health care organizations, professional societies, and + other relevant public-private health care partnerships. + (2) Obtaining official data.--The Commission, consistent + with established privacy rules, may secure directly from any + department or agency of the Executive Branch information + necessary to enable the Commission to carry out this section. + (3) Detail of federal government employees.--An employee of + the Federal Government may be detailed to the Commission without + reimbursement. The detail of such an employee shall be without + interruption or loss of civil service status. + + (f) Director and Staff; Experts and Consultants.--Subject to such +review as the Comptroller General of the United States determines to be +necessary to ensure the efficient administration of the Commission, the +Commission may-- + (1) employ and fix the compensation of an executive director + that shall not exceed the rate of basic pay payable for level V + of the Executive Schedule and such other personnel as may be + necessary to carry out its duties (without regard to the + provisions of title 5, United States Code, governing + appointments in the competitive service); + (2) seek such assistance and support as may be required in + the performance of its duties from appropriate Federal + departments and agencies; + (3) enter into contracts or make other arrangements, as may + be necessary for the conduct of the work of the Commission + (without regard to section 3709 of the Revised Statutes (41 + U.S.C. 5)); + (4) make advance, progress, and other payments which relate + to the work of the Commission; + (5) provide transportation and subsistence for persons + serving without compensation; and + (6) prescribe such rules and regulations as the Commission + determines to be necessary with respect to the internal + organization and operation of the Commission. + + (g) Powers.-- + (1) Data collection.--In order to carry out its functions + under this section, the Commission shall-- + (A) utilize existing information, both published and + unpublished, where possible, collected and assessed + either by its own staff or under other arrangements made + in + +[[Page 124 STAT. 598]] + + accordance with this section, including coordination + with the Bureau of Labor Statistics; + (B) carry out, or award grants or contracts for the + carrying out of, original research and development, + where existing information is inadequate, and + (C) adopt procedures allowing interested parties to + submit information for the Commission's use in making + reports and recommendations. + (2) Access of the government accountability office to + information.--The Comptroller General of the United States shall + have unrestricted access to all deliberations, records, and data + of the Commission, immediately upon request. + (3) Periodic audit.--The Commission shall be subject to + periodic audit by an independent public accountant under + contract to the Commission. + + (h) Authorization of Appropriations.-- + (1) Request for appropriations.--The Commission shall submit + requests for appropriations in the same manner as the + Comptroller General of the United States submits requests for + appropriations. Amounts so appropriated for the Commission shall + be separate from amounts appropriated for the Comptroller + General. + (2) Authorization.--There are authorized to be appropriated + such sums as may be necessary to carry out this section. + (3) Gifts and services.--The Commission may not accept + gifts, bequeaths, or donations of property, but may accept and + use donations of services for purposes of carrying out this + section. + + (i) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Health care workforce.--The term ``health care + workforce'' includes all health care providers with direct + patient care and support responsibilities, such as physicians, + nurses, nurse practitioners, primary care providers, preventive + medicine physicians, optometrists, ophthalmologists, physician + assistants, pharmacists, dentists, dental hygienists, and other + oral healthcare professionals, allied health professionals, + doctors of chiropractic, community health workers, health care + paraprofessionals, direct care workers, psychologists and other + behavioral and mental health professionals (including substance + abuse prevention and treatment providers), social workers, + physical and occupational therapists, certified nurse midwives, + podiatrists, the EMS workforce (including professional and + volunteer ambulance personnel and firefighters who perform + emergency medical services), licensed complementary and + alternative medicine providers, integrative health + practitioners, public health professionals, and any other health + professional that the Comptroller General of the United States + determines appropriate. + (2) Health professionals.--The term ``health professionals'' + includes-- + (A) dentists, dental hygienists, primary care + providers, specialty physicians, nurses, nurse + practitioners, physician assistants, psychologists and + other behavioral and mental health professionals + (including substance abuse prevention and treatment + providers), social workers, physical and occupational + therapists, public health professionals, clinical + +[[Page 124 STAT. 599]] + + pharmacists, allied health professionals, doctors of + chiropractic, community health workers, school nurses, + certified nurse midwives, podiatrists, licensed + complementary and alternative medicine providers, the + EMS workforce (including professional and volunteer + ambulance personnel and firefighters who perform + emergency medical services), and integrative health + practitioners; + (B) national representatives of health + professionals; + (C) representatives of schools of medicine, + osteopathy, nursing, dentistry, optometry, pharmacy, + chiropractic, allied health, educational programs for + public health professionals, behavioral and mental + health professionals (as so defined), social workers, + pharmacists, physical and occupational therapists, oral + health care industry dentistry and dental hygiene, and + physician assistants; + (D) representatives of public and private teaching + hospitals, and ambulatory health facilities, including + Federal medical facilities; and + (E) any other health professional the Comptroller + General of the United States determines appropriate. + +SEC. 5102. STATE <> HEALTH CARE WORKFORCE + DEVELOPMENT GRANTS. + + (a) Establishment.--There is established a competitive health care +workforce development grant program (referred to in this section as the +``program'') for the purpose of enabling State partnerships to complete +comprehensive planning and to carry out activities leading to coherent +and comprehensive health care workforce development strategies at the +State and local levels. + (b) Fiscal and Administrative Agent.--The Health Resources and +Services Administration of the Department of Health and Human Services +(referred to in this section as the ``Administration'') shall be the +fiscal and administrative agent for the grants awarded under +this <> section. The Administration is authorized to +carry out the program, in consultation with the National Health Care +Workforce Commission (referred to in this section as the +``Commission''), which shall review reports on the development, +implementation, and evaluation activities of the grant program, +including-- + (1) administering the grants; + (2) providing technical assistance to grantees; and + (3) reporting performance information to the Commission. + + (c) Planning Grants.-- + (1) Amount and duration.--A planning grant shall be awarded + under this subsection for a period of not more than one year and + the maximum award may not be more than $150,000. + (2) Eligibility.--To be eligible to receive a planning + grant, an entity shall be an eligible partnership. An eligible + partnership shall be a State workforce investment board, if it + includes or modifies the members to include at least one + representative from each of the following: health care employer, + labor organization, a public 2-year institution of higher + education, a public 4-year institution of higher education, the + recognized State federation of labor, the State public secondary + education agency, the State P-16 or P-20 Council if such a + council exists, and a philanthropic organization that is + actively engaged in providing learning, mentoring, and work + opportunities to recruit, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 600]] + + educate, and train individuals for, and retain individuals in, + careers in health care and related industries. + (3) Fiscal and administrative agent.--The Governor of the + State receiving a planning grant has the authority to appoint a + fiscal and an administrative agency for the partnership. + (4) Application.--Each State partnership desiring a planning + grant shall submit an application to the Administrator of the + Administration at such time and in such manner, and accompanied + by such information as the Administrator may reasonable require. + Each application submitted for a planning grant shall describe + the members of the State partnership, the activities for which + assistance is sought, the proposed performance benchmarks to be + used to measure progress under the planning grant, a budget for + use of the funds to complete the required activities described + in paragraph (5), and such additional assurance and information + as the Administrator determines to be essential to ensure + compliance with the grant program requirements. + (5) Required activities.--A State partnership receiving a + planning grant shall carry out the following: + (A) Analyze State labor market information in order + to create health care career pathways for students and + adults, including dislocated workers. + (B) Identify current and projected high demand State + or regional health care sectors for purposes of planning + career pathways. + (C) Identify existing Federal, State, and private + resources to recruit, educate or train, and retain a + skilled health care workforce and strengthen + partnerships. + (D) Describe the academic and health care industry + skill standards for high school graduation, for entry + into postsecondary education, and for various + credentials and licensure. + (E) Describe State secondary and postsecondary + education and training policies, models, or practices + for the health care sector, including career information + and guidance counseling. + (F) Identify Federal or State policies or rules to + developing a coherent and comprehensive health care + workforce development strategy and barriers and a plan + to resolve these barriers. + (G) Participate in the Administration's evaluation + and reporting activities. + (6) Performance and evaluation.--Before the State + partnership receives a planning grant, such partnership and the + Administrator of the Administration shall jointly determine the + performance benchmarks that will be established for the purposes + of the planning grant. + (7) Match.--Each State partnership receiving a planning + grant shall provide an amount, in cash or in kind, that is not + less that 15 percent of the amount of the grant, to carry out + the activities supported by the grant. The matching requirement + may be provided from funds available under other Federal, State, + local or private sources to carry out the activities. + (8) Report.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 601]] + + (A) Report to administration.--Not later than 1 year + after a State partnership receives a planning grant, the + partnership shall submit a report to the Administration + on the State's performance of the activities under the + grant, including the use of funds, including matching + funds, to carry out required activities, and a + description of the progress of the State workforce + investment board in meeting the performance benchmarks. + (B) Report to congress.--The Administration shall + submit a report to Congress analyzing the planning + activities, performance, and fund utilization of each + State grant recipient, including an identification of + promising practices and a profile of the activities of + each State grant recipient. + + (d) Implementation Grants.-- + (1) In general.--The Administration shall-- + (A) competitively award implementation grants to + State partnerships to enable such partnerships to + implement activities that will result in a coherent and + comprehensive plan for health workforce development that + will address current and projected workforce demands + within the State; and + (B) inform the Commission and Congress about the + awards made. + (2) Duration.--An implementation grant shall be awarded for + a period of no more than 2 years, except in those cases where + the Administration determines that the grantee is high + performing and the activities supported by the grant warrant up + to 1 additional year of funding. + (3) Eligibility.--To be eligible for an implementation + grant, a State partnership shall have-- + (A) received a planning grant under subsection (c) + and completed all requirements of such grant; or + (B) completed a satisfactory application, including + a plan to coordinate with required partners and complete + the required activities during the 2 year period of the + implementation grant. + (4) Fiscal and administrative agent.--A State partnership + receiving an implementation grant shall appoint a fiscal and an + administration agent for the implementation of such grant. + (5) Application.--Each eligible State partnership desiring + an implementation grant shall submit an application to the + Administration at such time, in such manner, and accompanied by + such information as the Administration may reasonably require. + Each application submitted shall include-- + (A) a description of the members of the State + partnership; + (B) a description of how the State partnership + completed the required activities under the planning + grant, if applicable; + (C) a description of the activities for which + implementation grant funds are sought, including grants + to regions by the State partnership to advance coherent + and comprehensive regional health care workforce + planning activities; + (D) a description of how the State partnership will + coordinate with required partners and complete the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 602]] + + required partnership activities during the duration of + an implementation grant; + (E) a budget proposal of the cost of the activities + supported by the implementation grant and a timeline for + the provision of matching funds required; + (F) proposed performance benchmarks to be used to + assess and evaluate the progress of the partnership + activities; + (G) a description of how the State partnership will + collect data to report progress in grant activities; and + (H) such additional assurances as the Administration + determines to be essential to ensure compliance with + grant requirements. + (6) Required activities.-- + (A) In general.--A State partnership that receives + an implementation grant may reserve not less than 60 + percent of the grant funds to make grants to be + competitively awarded by the State partnership, + consistent with State procurement rules, to encourage + regional partnerships to address health care workforce + development needs and to promote innovative health care + workforce career pathway activities, including career + counseling, learning, and employment. + (B) Eligible partnership duties.--An eligible State + partnership receiving an implementation grant shall-- + (i) identify and convene regional leadership + to discuss opportunities to engage in statewide + health care workforce development planning, + including the potential use of competitive grants + to improve the development, distribution, and + diversity of the regional health care workforce; + the alignment of curricula for health care + careers; and the access to quality career + information and guidance and education and + training opportunities; + (ii) in consultation with key stakeholders and + regional leaders, take appropriate steps to reduce + Federal, State, or local barriers to a + comprehensive and coherent strategy, including + changes in State or local policies to foster + coherent and comprehensive health care workforce + development activities, including health care + career pathways at the regional and State levels, + career planning information, retraining for + dislocated workers, and as appropriate, requests + for Federal program or administrative waivers; + (iii) develop, disseminate, and review with + key stakeholders a preliminary statewide strategy + that addresses short- and long-term health care + workforce development supply versus demand; + (iv) convene State partnership members on a + regular basis, and at least on a semiannual basis; + (v) assist leaders at the regional level to + form partnerships, including technical assistance + and capacity building activities; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 603]] + + (vi) collect and assess data on and report on + the performance benchmarks selected by the State + partnership and the Administration for + implementation activities carried out by regional + and State partnerships; and + (vii) participate in the Administration's + evaluation and reporting activities. + (7) Performance and evaluation.--Before the State + partnership receives an implementation grant, it and the + Administrator shall jointly determine the performance benchmarks + that shall be established for the purposes of the implementation + grant. + (8) Match.--Each State partnership receiving an + implementation grant shall provide an amount, in cash or in kind + that is not less than 25 percent of the amount of the grant, to + carry out the activities supported by the grant. The matching + funds may be provided from funds available from other Federal, + State, local, or private sources to carry out such activities. + (9) Reports.-- + (A) Report to administration.--For each year of the + implementation grant, the State partnership receiving + the implementation grant shall submit a report to the + Administration on the performance of the State of the + grant activities, including a description of the use of + the funds, including matched funds, to complete + activities, and a description of the performance of the + State partnership in meeting the performance benchmarks. + (B) Report to congress.--The Administration shall + submit a report to Congress analyzing implementation + activities, performance, and fund utilization of the + State grantees, including an identification of promising + practices and a profile of the activities of each State + grantee. + + (e) Authorization for Appropriations.-- + (1) Planning grants.--There are authorized to be + appropriated to award planning grants under subsection (c) + $8,000,000 for fiscal year 2010, and such sums as may be + necessary for each subsequent fiscal year. + (2) Implementation grants.--There are authorized to be + appropriated to award implementation grants under subsection + (d), $150,000,000 for fiscal year 2010, and such sums as may be + necessary for each subsequent fiscal year. + +SEC. 5103. HEALTH CARE WORKFORCE ASSESSMENT. + + (a) In <> General.--Section 761 of the Public +Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 294m) is amended-- + (1) by redesignating subsection (c) as subsection (e); + (2) by striking subsection (b) and inserting the following: + + ``(b) National Center for Health Care Workforce Analysis.-- + ``(1) Establishment.--The Secretary shall establish the + National Center for Health Workforce Analysis (referred to in + this section as the `National Center'). + ``(2) Purposes.--The National Center, in coordination to the + extent practicable with the National Health Care Workforce + +[[Page 124 STAT. 604]] + + Commission (established in section 5101 of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act), and relevant regional and + State centers and agencies, shall-- + ``(A) provide for the development of information + describing and analyzing the health care workforce and + workforce related issues; + ``(B) carry out the activities under section 792(a); + ``(C) annually evaluate programs under this title; + ``(D) develop and publish performance measures and + benchmarks for programs under this title; and + ``(E) establish, <> maintain, and publicize a national Internet + registry of each grant awarded under this title and a + database to collect data from longitudinal evaluations + (as described in subsection (d)(2)) on performance + measures (as developed under sections 749(d)(3), + 757(d)(3), and 762(a)(3)). + ``(3) Collaboration and data sharing.-- + ``(A) In general.--The National Center shall + collaborate with Federal agencies and relevant + professional and educational organizations or societies + for the purpose of linking data regarding grants awarded + under this title. + ``(B) Contracts for health workforce analysis.--For + the purpose of carrying out the activities described in + subparagraph (A), the National Center may enter into + contracts with relevant professional and educational + organizations or societies. + + ``(c) State and Regional Centers for Health Workforce Analysis.-- + ``(1) In general.-- + The <> Secretary shall award grants + to, or enter into contracts with, eligible entities for purposes + of-- + ``(A) collecting, analyzing, and reporting data + regarding programs under this title to the National + Center and to the public; and + ``(B) providing technical assistance to local and + regional entities on the collection, analysis, and + reporting of data. + ``(2) Eligible entities.--To be eligible for a grant or + contract under this subsection, an entity shall-- + ``(A) be a State, a State workforce investment + board, a public health or health professions school, an + academic health center, or an appropriate public or + private nonprofit entity; and + ``(B) submit to the Secretary an application at such + time, in such manner, and containing such information as + the Secretary may require. + + ``(d) Increase in Grants for Longitudinal Evaluations.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall increase the amount + awarded to an eligible entity under this title for a + longitudinal evaluation of individuals who have received + education, training, or financial assistance from programs under + this title. + ``(2) Capability.--A longitudinal evaluation shall be + capable of-- + ``(A) studying practice patterns; and + ``(B) collecting and reporting data on performance + measures developed under sections 749(d)(3), 757(d)(3), + and 762(a)(3). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 605]] + + ``(3) Guidelines.--A longitudinal evaluation shall comply + with guidelines issued under sections 749(d)(4), 757(d)(4), and + 762(a)(4). + ``(4) Eligible entities.--To be eligible to obtain an + increase under this section, an entity shall be a recipient of a + grant or contract under this title.''; and + (3) in subsection (e), as so redesignated-- + (A) by striking paragraph (1) and inserting the + following: + ``(1) In <> general.-- + ``(A) National center.--To carry out subsection (b), + there are authorized to be appropriated $7,500,000 for + each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014. + ``(B) State and regional centers.--To carry out + subsection (c), there are authorized to be appropriated + $4,500,000 for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014. + ``(C) Grants for longitudinal evaluations.--To carry + out subsection (d), there are authorized to be + appropriated such sums as may be necessary for fiscal + years 2010 through 2014.''; and + (4) in paragraph (2), by striking ``subsection (a)'' and + inserting ``paragraph (1)''. + + (b) Transfers.--Not <> later than +180 days after the date of enactment of this Act, the responsibilities +and resources of the National Center for Health Workforce Analysis, as +in effect on the date before the date of enactment of this Act, shall be +transferred to the National Center for Health Care Workforce Analysis +established under section 761 of the Public Health Service Act, as +amended by subsection (a). + + (c) Use of Longitudinal Evaluations.--Section 791(a)(1) of the +Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 295j(a)(1)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``or'' at the end; + (2) in subparagraph (B), by striking the period and + inserting ``; or''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following: + ``(C) utilizes a longitudinal evaluation (as + described in section 761(d)(2)) and reports data from + such system to the national workforce database (as + established under section 761(b)(2)(E)).''. + + (d) Performance Measures; Guidelines for Longitudinal Evaluations.-- + (1) Advisory <> committee on training in + primary care medicine and dentistry.--Section 748(d) of the + Public Health Service Act is amended-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) in paragraph (2), by striking the period and + inserting a semicolon; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(3) develop, publish, and implement performance measures + for programs under this part; + ``(4) develop and publish guidelines for longitudinal + evaluations (as described in section 761(d)(2)) for programs + under this part; and + ``(5) recommend appropriation levels for programs under this + part.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 606]] + + (2) Advisory committee on interdisciplinary, community-based + linkages.--Section 756(d) of the Public Health Service + Act <> is amended-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) in paragraph (2), by striking the period and + inserting a semicolon; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(3) develop, publish, and implement performance measures + for programs under this part; + ``(4) develop and publish guidelines for longitudinal + evaluations (as described in section 761(d)(2)) for programs + under this part; and + ``(5) recommend appropriation levels for programs under this + part.''. + (3) Advisory council on graduate medical education.--Section + 762(a) of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 294o(a)) is + amended-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) in paragraph (2), by striking the period and + inserting a semicolon; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(3) develop, publish, and implement performance measures + for programs under this title, except for programs under part C + or D; + ``(4) develop and publish guidelines for longitudinal + evaluations (as described in section 761(d)(2)) for programs + under this title, except for programs under part C or D; and + ``(5) recommend appropriation levels for programs under this + title, except for programs under part C or D.''. + + Subtitle C--Increasing the Supply of the Health Care Workforce + +SEC. 5201. FEDERALLY SUPPORTED STUDENT LOAN FUNDS. + + (a) Medical Schools and Primary Health Care.--Section 723 of the +Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 292s) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking subparagraph (B) + and inserting the following: + ``(B) to practice in such care for 10 years + (including residency training in primary health care) or + through the date on which the loan is repaid in full, + whichever occurs first.''; and + (B) by striking paragraph (3) and inserting the + following: + ``(3) Noncompliance by student.--Each agreement entered into + with a student pursuant to paragraph (1) shall provide that, if + the student fails to comply with such agreement, the loan + involved will begin to accrue interest at a rate of 2 percent + per year greater than the rate at which the student would pay if + compliant in such year.''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(d) Sense of Congress.--It is the sense of Congress that funds +repaid under the loan program under this section should not be +transferred to the Treasury of the United States or otherwise used for +any other purpose other than to carry out this section.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 607]] + + (b) Student <> Loan Guidelines.--The +Secretary of Health and Human Services shall not require parental +financial information for an independent student to determine financial +need under section 723 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 292s) +and the determination of need for such information shall be at the +discretion of applicable school loan officer. The Secretary shall amend +guidelines issued by the Health Resources and Services Administration in +accordance with the preceding sentence. + +SEC. 5202. NURSING STUDENT LOAN PROGRAM. + + (a) Loan Agreements.--Section 836(a) of the Public Health Service +Act (42 U.S.C. 297b(a)) is amended-- + (1) by striking ``$2,500'' and inserting ``$3,300''; + (2) by striking ``$4,000'' and inserting ``$5,200''; and + (3) by striking ``$13,000'' and all that follows through the + period and inserting ``$17,000 in the case of any student during + fiscal years 2010 and 2011. After fiscal year 2011, such amounts + shall be adjusted to provide for a cost-of-attendance increase + for the yearly loan rate and the aggregate of the loans.''. + + (b) Loan Provisions.--Section 836(b) of the Public Health Service +Act (42 U.S.C. 297b(b)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1)(C), by striking ``1986'' and inserting + ``2000''; and + (2) in paragraph (3), by striking ``the date of enactment of + the Nurse Training Amendments of 1979'' and inserting + ``September 29, 1995''. + +SEC. 5203. HEALTH CARE WORKFORCE LOAN REPAYMENT PROGRAMS. + + Part E of title VII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 294n +et seq.) is amended by adding at the end the following: + + ``Subpart 3--Recruitment and Retention Programs + +``SEC. 775. INVESTMENT <> IN TOMORROW'S PEDIATRIC + HEALTH CARE WORKFORCE. + + ``(a) Establishment.--The Secretary shall establish and carry out a +pediatric specialty loan repayment program under which the eligible +individual agrees to be employed full-time for a specified period (which +shall not be less than 2 years) in providing pediatric medical +subspecialty, pediatric surgical specialty, or child and adolescent +mental and behavioral health care, including substance abuse prevention +and treatment services. + ``(b) Program Administration.--Through <> the +program established under this section, the Secretary shall enter into +contracts with qualified health professionals under which-- + ``(1) such qualified health professionals will agree to + provide pediatric medical subspecialty, pediatric surgical + specialty, or child and adolescent mental and behavioral health + care in an area with a shortage of the specified pediatric + subspecialty that has a sufficient pediatric population to + support such pediatric subspecialty, as determined by the + Secretary; and + ``(2) the Secretary agrees to make payments on the principal + and interest of undergraduate, graduate, or graduate medical + education loans of professionals described in paragraph (1) of + not more than $35,000 a year for each year of agreed upon + service under such paragraph for a period of not more than 3 + years during the qualified health professional's-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 608]] + + ``(A) participation in an accredited pediatric + medical subspecialty, pediatric surgical specialty, or + child and adolescent mental health subspecialty + residency or fellowship; or + ``(B) employment as a pediatric medical + subspecialist, pediatric surgical specialist, or child + and adolescent mental health professional serving an + area or population described in such paragraph. + + ``(c) In General.-- + ``(1) Eligible <> individuals.-- + ``(A) Pediatric medical specialists and pediatric + surgical specialists.--For purposes of contracts with + respect to pediatric medical specialists and pediatric + surgical specialists, the term `qualified health + professional' means a licensed physician who-- + ``(i) is entering or receiving training in an + accredited pediatric medical subspecialty or + pediatric surgical specialty residency or + fellowship; or + ``(ii) has completed (but not prior to the end + of the calendar year in which this section is + enacted) the training described in subparagraph + (B). + ``(B) Child and adolescent mental and behavioral + health.--For purposes of contracts with respect to child + and adolescent mental and behavioral health care, the + term `qualified health professional' means a health care + professional who-- + ``(i) has received specialized training or + clinical experience in child and adolescent mental + health in psychiatry, psychology, school + psychology, behavioral pediatrics, psychiatric + nursing, social work, school social work, + substance abuse disorder prevention and treatment, + marriage and family therapy, school counseling, or + professional counseling; + ``(ii) has a license or certification in a + State to practice allopathic medicine, osteopathic + medicine, psychology, school psychology, + psychiatric nursing, social work, school social + work, marriage and family therapy, school + counseling, or professional counseling; or + ``(iii) is a mental health service + professional who completed (but not before the end + of the calendar year in which this section is + enacted) specialized training or clinical + experience in child and adolescent mental health + described in clause (i). + ``(2) Additional eligibility requirements.--The Secretary + may not enter into a contract under this subsection with an + eligible individual unless-- + ``(A) the individual agrees to work in, or for a + provider serving, a health professional shortage area or + medically underserved area, or to serve a medically + underserved population; + ``(B) the individual is a United States citizen or a + permanent legal United States resident; and + ``(C) if the individual is enrolled in a graduate + program, the program is accredited, and the individual + has an acceptable level of academic standing (as + determined by the Secretary). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 609]] + + ``(d) Priority.--In entering into contracts under this subsection, +the Secretary shall give priority to applicants who-- + ``(1) are or will be working in a school or other pre- + kindergarten, elementary, or secondary education setting; + ``(2) have familiarity with evidence-based methods and + cultural and linguistic competence health care services; and + ``(3) demonstrate financial need. + + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriations.--There is authorized to be +appropriated $30,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014 to +carry out subsection (c)(1)(A) and $20,000,000 for each of fiscal years +2010 through 2013 to carry out subsection (c)(1)(B).''. + +SEC. 5204. PUBLIC HEALTH WORKFORCE RECRUITMENT AND RETENTION PROGRAMS. + + Part E of title VII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 294n +et seq.), as amended by section 5203, is further amended by adding at +the end the following: + +``SEC. 776. PUBLIC <> HEALTH WORKFORCE LOAN + REPAYMENT PROGRAM. + + ``(a) Establishment.--The Secretary shall establish the Public +Health Workforce Loan Repayment Program (referred to in this section as +the `Program') to assure an adequate supply of public health +professionals to eliminate critical public health workforce shortages in +Federal, State, local, and tribal public health agencies. + ``(b) Eligibility.--To be eligible to participate in the Program, an +individual shall-- + ``(1)(A) be accepted for enrollment, or be enrolled, as a + student in an accredited academic educational institution in a + State or territory in the final year of a course of study or + program leading to a public health or health professions degree + or certificate; and have accepted employment with a Federal, + State, local, or tribal public health agency, or a related + training fellowship, as recognized by the Secretary, to commence + upon graduation; + ``(B)(i) have graduated, during the preceding 10-year + period, from an accredited educational institution in a State or + territory and received a public health or health professions + degree or certificate; and + ``(ii) be employed by, or have accepted employment with, a + Federal, State, local, or tribal public health agency or a + related training fellowship, as recognized by the Secretary; + ``(2) be a United States citizen; and + ``(3)(A) submit an application to the Secretary to + participate in the Program; + ``(B) execute a written contract as required in subsection + (c); and + ``(4) not have received, for the same service, a reduction + of loan obligations under section 455(m), 428J, 428K, 428L, or + 460 of the Higher Education Act of 1965. + + ``(c) Contract.--The written contract (referred to in this section +as the `written contract') between the Secretary and an individual shall +contain-- + ``(1) an agreement on the part of the Secretary that the + Secretary will repay on behalf of the individual loans incurred + by the individual in the pursuit of the relevant degree or + certificate in accordance with the terms of the contract; + ``(2) an agreement on the part of the individual that the + individual will serve in the full-time employment of a Federal, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 610]] + + State, local, or tribal public health agency or a related + fellowship program in a position related to the course of study + or program for which the contract was awarded for a period of + time (referred to in this section as the `period of obligated + service') equal to the greater of-- + ``(A) 3 years; or + ``(B) such longer period of time as determined + appropriate by the Secretary and the individual; + ``(3) an agreement, as appropriate, on the part of the + individual to relocate to a priority service area (as determined + by the Secretary) in exchange for an additional loan repayment + incentive amount to be determined by the Secretary; + ``(4) a provision that any financial obligation of the + United States arising out of a contract entered into under this + section and any obligation of the individual that is conditioned + thereon, is contingent on funds being appropriated for loan + repayments under this section; + ``(5) a statement of the damages to which the United States + is entitled, under this section for the individual's breach of + the contract; and + ``(6) such other statements of the rights and liabilities of + the Secretary and of the individual, not inconsistent with this + section. + + ``(d) Payments.-- + ``(1) In general.--A loan repayment provided for an + individual under a written contract under the Program shall + consist of payment, in accordance with paragraph (2), on behalf + of the individual of the principal, interest, and related + expenses on government and commercial loans received by the + individual regarding the undergraduate or graduate education of + the individual (or both), which loans were made for tuition + expenses incurred by the individual. + ``(2) Payments for years served.--For each year of obligated + service that an individual contracts to serve under subsection + (c) the Secretary may pay up to $35,000 on behalf of the + individual for loans described in paragraph (1). With respect to + participants under the Program whose total eligible loans are + less than $105,000, the Secretary shall pay an amount that does + not exceed \1/3\ of the eligible loan balance for each year of + obligated service of the individual. + ``(3) Tax liability.--For the purpose of providing + reimbursements for tax liability resulting from payments under + paragraph (2) on behalf of an individual, the Secretary shall, + in addition to such payments, make payments to the individual in + an amount not to exceed 39 percent of the total amount of loan + repayments made for the taxable year involved. + + ``(e) Postponing Obligated Service.--With respect to an individual +receiving a degree or certificate from a health professions or other +related school, the date of the initiation of the period of obligated +service may be postponed as approved by the Secretary. + ``(f) Breach of Contract.--An <> individual who +fails to comply with the contract entered into under subsection (c) +shall be subject to the same financial penalties as provided for under +section 338E for breaches of loan repayment contracts under section +338B. + + ``(g) Authorization of Appropriations.--There is authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section $195,000,000 for fiscal + +[[Page 124 STAT. 611]] + +year 2010, and such sums as may be necessary for each of fiscal years +2011 through 2015.''. + +SEC. 5205. ALLIED HEALTH WORKFORCE RECRUITMENT AND RETENTION PROGRAMS. + + (a) Purpose.--The <> purpose of this +section is to assure an adequate supply of allied health professionals +to eliminate critical allied health workforce shortages in Federal, +State, local, and tribal public health agencies or in settings where +patients might require health care services, including acute care +facilities, ambulatory care facilities, personal residences and other +settings, as recognized by the Secretary of Health and Human Services by +authorizing an Allied Health Loan Forgiveness Program. + + (b) Allied Health Workforce Recruitment and Retention Program.-- +Section 428K of the Higher Education Act of 1965 (20 U.S.C. 1078-11) is +amended-- + (1) in subsection (b), by adding at the end the following: + ``(18) Allied health professionals.--The individual is + employed full-time as an allied health professional-- + ``(A) in a Federal, State, local, or tribal public + health agency; or + ``(B) in a setting where patients might require + health care services, including acute care facilities, + ambulatory care facilities, personal residences and + other settings located in health professional shortage + areas, medically underserved areas, or medically + underserved populations, as recognized by the Secretary + of Health and Human Services.''; and + (2) in subsection (g)-- + (A) by redesignating paragraphs (1) through (9) as + paragraphs (2) through (10), respectively; and + (B) by inserting before paragraph (2) (as + redesignated by subparagraph (A)) the following: + ``(1) Allied <> health professional.--The + term `allied health professional' means an allied health + professional as defined in section 799B(5) of the Public Heath + Service Act (42 U.S.C. 295p(5)) who-- + ``(A) has graduated and received an allied health + professions degree or certificate from an institution of + higher education; and + ``(B) is employed with a Federal, State, local or + tribal public health agency, or in a setting where + patients might require health care services, including + acute care facilities, ambulatory care facilities, + personal residences and other settings located in health + professional shortage areas, medically underserved + areas, or medically underserved populations, as + recognized by the Secretary of Health and Human + Services.''. + +SEC. 5206. GRANTS FOR STATE AND LOCAL PROGRAMS. + + (a) In General.--Section 765(d) of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 295(d)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (7), by striking ``; or'' and inserting a + semicolon; + (2) by redesignating paragraph (8) as paragraph (9); and + (3) by inserting after paragraph (7) the following: + ``(8) public health workforce loan repayment programs; or''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 612]] + + (b) Training for Mid-career Public Health Professionals.--Part E of +title VII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 294n et seq.), as +amended by section 5204, is further amended by adding at the end the +following: + +``SEC. 777. TRAINING <> FOR MID-CAREER PUBLIC AND + ALLIED HEALTH PROFESSIONALS. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary may make grants to, or enter into +contracts with, any eligible entity to award scholarships to eligible +individuals to enroll in degree or professional training programs for +the purpose of enabling mid-career professionals in the public health +and allied health workforce to receive additional training in the field +of public health and allied health. + ``(b) <> Eligibility.-- + ``(1) Eligible entity.--The term `eligible entity' indicates + an accredited educational institution that offers a course of + study, certificate program, or professional training program in + public or allied health or a related discipline, as determined + by the Secretary + ``(2) Eligible individuals.--The term `eligible individuals' + includes those individuals employed in public and allied health + positions at the Federal, State, tribal, or local level who are + interested in retaining or upgrading their education. + + ``(c) Authorization of Appropriations.--There is authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section, $60,000,000 for fiscal year 2010 +and such sums as may be necessary for each of fiscal years 2011 through +2015. Fifty percent of appropriated funds shall be allotted to public +health mid-career professionals and 50 percent shall be allotted to +allied health mid-career professionals.''. + +SEC. 5207. FUNDING FOR NATIONAL HEALTH SERVICE CORPS. + + Section 338H(a) of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 254q(a)) +is amended to read as follows: + ``(a) Authorization of Appropriations.--For the purpose of carrying +out this section, there is authorized to be appropriated, out of any +funds in the Treasury not otherwise appropriated, the following: + ``(1) For fiscal year 2010, $320,461,632. + ``(2) For fiscal year 2011, $414,095,394. + ``(3) For fiscal year 2012, $535,087,442. + ``(4) For fiscal year 2013, $691,431,432. + ``(5) For fiscal year 2014, $893,456,433. + ``(6) For fiscal year 2015, $1,154,510,336. + ``(7) For fiscal year 2016, and each subsequent fiscal year, + the amount appropriated for the preceding fiscal year adjusted + by the product of-- + ``(A) one plus the average percentage increase in + the costs of health professions education during the + prior fiscal year; and + ``(B) one plus the average percentage change in the + number of individuals residing in health professions + shortage areas designated under section 333 during the + prior fiscal year, relative to the number of individuals + residing in such areas during the previous fiscal + year.''. + +SEC. 5208. NURSE-MANAGED HEALTH CLINICS. + + (a) Purpose.--The <> purpose of this +section is to fund the development and operation of nurse-managed health +clinics. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 613]] + + (b) Grants.--Subpart 1 of part D of title III of the Public Health +Service Act (42 U.S.C. 254b et seq.) is amended by inserting after +section 330A the following: + +``SEC. 330A-1. <> GRANTS TO NURSE-MANAGED HEALTH + CLINICS. + + ``(a) Definitions.-- + ``(1) Comprehensive primary health care services.--In this + section, the term `comprehensive primary health care services' + means the primary health services described in section + 330(b)(1). + ``(2) Nurse-managed health clinic.--The term `nurse-managed + health clinic' means a nurse-practice arrangement, managed by + advanced practice nurses, that provides primary care or wellness + services to underserved or vulnerable populations and that is + associated with a school, college, university or department of + nursing, federally qualified health center, or independent + nonprofit health or social services agency. + + ``(b) Authority to Award Grants.--The Secretary shall award grants +for the cost of the operation of nurse-managed health clinics that meet +the requirements of this section. + ``(c) Applications.--To be eligible to receive a grant under this +section, an entity shall-- + ``(1) be an NMHC; and + ``(2) submit to the Secretary an application at such time, + in such manner, and containing-- + ``(A) assurances that nurses are the major providers + of services at the NMHC and that at least 1 advanced + practice nurse holds an executive management position + within the organizational structure of the NMHC; + ``(B) an assurance that the NMHC will continue + providing comprehensive primary health care services or + wellness services without regard to income or insurance + status of the patient for the duration of the grant + period; and + ``(C) an assurance that, not later than 90 days of + receiving a grant under this section, the NMHC will + establish a community advisory committee, for which a + majority of the members shall be individuals who are + served by the NMHC. + + ``(d) Grant Amount.--The <> amount of any +grant made under this section for any fiscal year shall be determined by +the Secretary, taking into account-- + ``(1) the financial need of the NMHC, considering State, + local, and other operational funding provided to the NMHC; and + ``(2) other factors, as the Secretary determines + appropriate. + + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriations.--For the purposes of carrying +out this section, there are authorized to be appropriated $50,000,000 +for the fiscal year 2010 and such sums as may be necessary for each of +the fiscal years 2011 through 2014.''. + +SEC. 5209. <> ELIMINATION OF CAP ON + COMMISSIONED CORPS. + + Section 202 of the Department of Health and Human Services +Appropriations Act, 1993 (Public Law 102-394) is amended by striking +``not to exceed 2,800''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 614]] + +SEC. 5210. ESTABLISHING A READY RESERVE CORPS. + + Section 203 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 204) is +amended to read as follows: + +``SEC. 203. COMMISSIONED CORPS AND READY RESERVE CORPS. + + ``(a) Establishment.-- + ``(1) In general.--There shall be in the Service a + commissioned Regular Corps and a Ready Reserve Corps for service + in time of national emergency. + ``(2) Requirement.--All commissioned officers shall be + citizens of the United States and shall be appointed without + regard to the civil-service laws and compensated without regard + to the Classification Act of 1923, as amended. + ``(3) Appointment.-- + Commissioned <> officers of the Ready Reserve + Corps shall be appointed by the President and commissioned + officers of the Regular Corps shall be appointed by the + President with the advice and consent of the Senate. + ``(4) Active duty.--Commissioned officers of the Ready + Reserve Corps shall at all times be subject to call to active + duty by the Surgeon General, including active duty for the + purpose of training. + ``(5) Warrant officers.--Warrant officers may be appointed + to the Service for the purpose of providing support to the + health and delivery systems maintained by the Service and any + warrant officer appointed to the Service shall be considered for + purposes of this Act and title 37, United States Code, to be a + commissioned officer within the Commissioned Corps of the + Service. + + ``(b) Assimilating Reserve Corp Officers Into the Regular Corps.-- +Effective <> on the date of enactment of the +Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, all individuals classified +as officers in the Reserve Corps under this section (as such section +existed on the day before the date of enactment of such Act) and serving +on active duty shall be deemed to be commissioned officers of the +Regular Corps. + + ``(c) Purpose and Use of Ready Research.-- + ``(1) Purpose.--The purpose of the Ready Reserve Corps is to + fulfill the need to have additional Commissioned Corps personnel + available on short notice (similar to the uniformed service's + reserve program) to assist regular Commissioned Corps personnel + to meet both routine public health and emergency response + missions. + ``(2) Uses.--The Ready Reserve Corps shall-- + ``(A) participate in routine training to meet the + general and specific needs of the Commissioned Corps; + ``(B) be available and ready for involuntary calls + to active duty during national emergencies and public + health crises, similar to the uniformed service reserve + personnel; + ``(C) be available for backfilling critical + positions left vacant during deployment of active duty + Commissioned Corps members, as well as for deployment to + respond to public health emergencies, both foreign and + domestic; and + ``(D) be available for service assignment in + isolated, hardship, and medically underserved + communities (as defined in section 799B) to improve + access to health services. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 615]] + + ``(d) Funding.--For the purpose of carrying out the duties and +responsibilities of the Commissioned Corps under this section, there are +authorized to be appropriated $5,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2010 +through 2014 for recruitment and training and $12,500,000 for each of +fiscal years 2010 through 2014 for the Ready Reserve Corps.''. + + Subtitle D--Enhancing Health Care Workforce Education and Training + +SEC. 5301. TRAINING IN FAMILY MEDICINE, GENERAL INTERNAL MEDICINE, + GENERAL PEDIATRICS, AND PHYSICIAN ASSISTANTSHIP. + + Part C of title VII (42 U.S.C. 293k et seq.) is amended by striking +section 747 and inserting the following: + +``SEC. 747. <> PRIMARY CARE TRAINING AND + ENHANCEMENT. + + ``(a) Support and Development of Primary Care Training Programs.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary may make grants to, or + enter into contracts with, an accredited public or nonprofit + private hospital, school of medicine or osteopathic medicine, + academically affiliated physician assistant training program, or + a public or private nonprofit entity which the Secretary has + determined is capable of carrying out such grant or contract-- + ``(A) to plan, develop, operate, or participate in + an accredited professional training program, including + an accredited residency or internship program in the + field of family medicine, general internal medicine, or + general pediatrics for medical students, interns, + residents, or practicing physicians as defined by the + Secretary; + ``(B) to provide need-based financial assistance in + the form of traineeships and fellowships to medical + students, interns, residents, practicing physicians, or + other medical personnel, who are participants in any + such program, and who plan to specialize or work in the + practice of the fields defined in subparagraph (A); + ``(C) to plan, develop, and operate a program for + the training of physicians who plan to teach in family + medicine, general internal medicine, or general + pediatrics training programs; + ``(D) to plan, develop, and operate a program for + the training of physicians teaching in community-based + settings; + ``(E) to provide financial assistance in the form of + traineeships and fellowships to physicians who are + participants in any such programs and who plan to teach + or conduct research in a family medicine, general + internal medicine, or general pediatrics training + program; + ``(F) to plan, develop, and operate a physician + assistant education program, and for the training of + individuals who will teach in programs to provide such + training; + ``(G) to plan, develop, and operate a demonstration + program that provides training in new competencies, as + recommended by the Advisory Committee on Training in + +[[Page 124 STAT. 616]] + + Primary Care Medicine and Dentistry and the National + Health Care Workforce Commission established in section + 5101 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, + which may include-- + ``(i) providing training to primary care + physicians relevant to providing care through + patient-centered medical homes (as defined by the + Secretary for purposes of this section); + ``(ii) developing tools and curricula relevant + to patient-centered medical homes; and + ``(iii) providing continuing education to + primary care physicians relevant to patient- + centered medical homes; and + ``(H) to plan, develop, and operate joint degree + programs to provide interdisciplinary and + interprofessional graduate training in public health and + other health professions to provide training in + environmental health, infectious disease control, + disease prevention and health promotion, epidemiological + studies and injury control. + ``(2) Duration of awards.--The period during which payments + are made to an entity from an award of a grant or contract under + this subsection shall be 5 years. + + ``(b) Capacity Building in Primary Care.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary may make grants to or enter + into contracts with accredited schools of medicine or + osteopathic medicine to establish, maintain, or improve-- + ``(A) academic units or programs that improve + clinical teaching and research in fields defined in + subsection (a)(1)(A); or + ``(B) programs that integrate academic + administrative units in fields defined in subsection + (a)(1)(A) to enhance interdisciplinary recruitment, + training, and faculty development. + ``(2) Preference in making awards under this subsection.--In + making awards of grants and contracts under paragraph (1), the + Secretary shall give preference to any qualified applicant for + such an award that agrees to expend the award for the purpose + of-- + ``(A) establishing academic units or programs in + fields defined in subsection (a)(1)(A); or + ``(B) substantially expanding such units or + programs. + ``(3) Priorities in making awards.--In awarding grants or + contracts under paragraph (1), the Secretary shall give priority + to qualified applicants that-- + ``(A) proposes a collaborative project between + academic administrative units of primary care; + ``(B) proposes innovative approaches to clinical + teaching using models of primary care, such as the + patient centered medical home, team management of + chronic disease, and interprofessional integrated models + of health care that incorporate transitions in health + care settings and integration physical and mental health + provision; + ``(C) have a record of training the greatest + percentage of providers, or that have demonstrated + significant improvements in the percentage of providers + trained, who enter and remain in primary care practice; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 617]] + + ``(D) have a record of training individuals who are + from underrepresented minority groups or from a rural or + disadvantaged background; + ``(E) provide training in the care of vulnerable + populations such as children, older adults, homeless + individuals, victims of abuse or trauma, individuals + with mental health or substance-related disorders, + individuals with HIV/AIDS, and individuals with + disabilities; + ``(F) establish formal relationships and submit + joint applications with federally qualified health + centers, rural health clinics, area health education + centers, or clinics located in underserved areas or that + serve underserved populations; + ``(G) teach trainees the skills to provide + interprofessional, integrated care through collaboration + among health professionals; + ``(H) provide training in enhanced communication + with patients, evidence-based practice, chronic disease + management, preventive care, health information + technology, or other competencies as recommended by the + Advisory Committee on Training in Primary Care Medicine + and Dentistry and the National Health Care Workforce + Commission established in section 5101 of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act; or + ``(I) provide training in cultural competency and + health literacy. + ``(4) Duration of awards.--The period during which payments + are made to an entity from an award of a grant or contract under + this subsection shall be 5 years. + + ``(c) Authorization of Appropriations.-- + ``(1) In general.--For purposes of carrying out this section + (other than subsection (b)(1)(B)), there are authorized to be + appropriated $125,000,000 for fiscal year 2010, and such sums as + may be necessary for each of fiscal years 2011 through 2014. + ``(2) Training programs.--Fifteen percent of the amount + appropriated pursuant to paragraph (1) in each such fiscal year + shall be allocated to the physician assistant training programs + described in subsection (a)(1)(F), which prepare students for + practice in primary care. + ``(3) Integrating academic administrative units.--For + purposes of carrying out subsection (b)(1)(B), there are + authorized to be appropriated $750,000 for each of fiscal years + 2010 through 2014.''. + +SEC. 5302. TRAINING OPPORTUNITIES FOR DIRECT CARE WORKERS. + + Part C of title VII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 293k +et seq.) is amended by inserting after section 747, as amended by +section 5301, the following: + +``SEC. 747A. TRAINING <> OPPORTUNITIES FOR DIRECT + CARE WORKERS. + + ``(a) In General.--The <> Secretary shall award +grants to eligible entities to enable such entities to provide new +training opportunities for direct care workers who are employed in long- +term care settings such as nursing homes (as defined in section +1908(e)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396g(e)(1)), assisted +living facilities + +[[Page 124 STAT. 618]] + +and skilled nursing facilities, intermediate care facilities for +individuals with mental retardation, home and community based settings, +and any other setting the Secretary determines to be appropriate. + + ``(b) Eligibility.--To be eligible to receive a grant under this +section, an entity shall-- + ``(1) be an institution of higher education (as defined in + section 102 of the Higher Education Act of 1965 (20 U.S.C. + 1002)) that-- + ``(A) is accredited by a nationally recognized + accrediting agency or association listed under section + 101(c) of the Higher Education Act of 1965 (20 U.S.C. + 1001(c)); and + ``(B) has established a public-private educational + partnership with a nursing home or skilled nursing + facility, agency or entity providing home and community + based services to individuals with disabilities, or + other long-term care provider; and + ``(2) submit to the Secretary an application at such time, + in such manner, and containing such information as the Secretary + may require. + + ``(c) Use of Funds.--An eligible entity shall use amounts awarded +under a grant under this section to provide assistance to eligible +individuals to offset the cost of tuition and required fees for +enrollment in academic programs provided by such entity. + ``(d) Eligible Individual.-- + ``(1) Eligibility.--To be eligible for assistance under this + section, an individual shall be enrolled in courses provided by + a grantee under this subsection and maintain satisfactory + academic progress in such courses. + ``(2) Condition of assistance.--As a condition of receiving + assistance under this section, an individual shall agree that, + following completion of the assistance period, the individual + will work in the field of geriatrics, disability services, long + term services and supports, or chronic care management for a + minimum of 2 years under guidelines set by the Secretary. + + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriations.--There is authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section, $10,000,000 for the period of +fiscal years 2011 through 2013.''. + +SEC. 5303. TRAINING IN GENERAL, PEDIATRIC, AND PUBLIC HEALTH DENTISTRY. + + Part C of Title VII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 293k +et seq.) is amended by-- + (1) redesignating section 748, <> as + amended by section 5103 of this Act, as section 749; and + (2) inserting after section 747A, as added by section 5302, + the following: + +``SEC. 748. <> TRAINING IN GENERAL, PEDIATRIC, AND + PUBLIC HEALTH DENTISTRY. + + ``(a) Support and Development of Dental Training Programs.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary may make grants to, or + enter into contracts with, a school of dentistry, public or + nonprofit private hospital, or a public or private nonprofit + entity which the Secretary has determined is capable of carrying + out such grant or contract-- + ``(A) to plan, develop, and operate, or participate + in, an approved professional training program in the + field + +[[Page 124 STAT. 619]] + + of general dentistry, pediatric dentistry, or public + health dentistry for dental students, residents, + practicing dentists, dental hygienists, or other + approved primary care dental trainees, that emphasizes + training for general, pediatric, or public health + dentistry; + ``(B) to provide financial assistance to dental + students, residents, practicing dentists, and dental + hygiene students who are in need thereof, who are + participants in any such program, and who plan to work + in the practice of general, pediatric, public heath + dentistry, or dental hygiene; + ``(C) to plan, develop, and operate a program for + the training of oral health care providers who plan to + teach in general, pediatric, public health dentistry, or + dental hygiene; + ``(D) to provide financial assistance in the form of + traineeships and fellowships to dentists who plan to + teach or are teaching in general, pediatric, or public + health dentistry; + ``(E) to meet the costs of projects to establish, + maintain, or improve dental faculty development programs + in primary care (which may be departments, divisions or + other units); + ``(F) to meet the costs of projects to establish, + maintain, or improve predoctoral and postdoctoral + training in primary care programs; + ``(G) to create a loan repayment program for faculty + in dental programs; and + ``(H) to provide technical assistance to pediatric + training programs in developing and implementing + instruction regarding the oral health status, dental + care needs, and risk-based clinical disease management + of all pediatric populations with an emphasis on + underserved children. + ``(2) Faculty loan repayment.-- + ``(A) In general.--A grant or contract under + subsection (a)(1)(G) may be awarded to a program of + general, pediatric, or public health dentistry described + in such subsection to plan, develop, and operate a loan + repayment program under which-- + ``(i) individuals agree to serve full-time as + faculty members; and + ``(ii) the program of general, pediatric or + public health dentistry agrees to pay the + principal and interest on the outstanding student + loans of the individuals. + ``(B) Manner of payments.--With respect to the + payments described in subparagraph (A)(ii), upon + completion by an individual of each of the first, + second, third, fourth, and fifth years of service, the + program shall pay an amount equal to 10, 15, 20, 25, and + 30 percent, respectively, of the individual's student + loan balance as calculated based on principal and + interest owed at the initiation of the agreement. + + ``(b) Eligible Entity.--For purposes of this subsection, entities +eligible for such grants or contracts in general, pediatric, or public +health dentistry shall include entities that have programs in dental or +dental hygiene schools, or approved residency or advanced education +programs in the practice of general, pediatric, or public health +dentistry. Eligible entities may partner with schools of public + +[[Page 124 STAT. 620]] + +health to permit the education of dental students, residents, and dental +hygiene students for a master's year in public health at a school of +public health. + ``(c) Priorities in Making Awards.--With respect to training +provided for under this section, the Secretary shall give priority in +awarding grants or contracts to the following: + ``(1) Qualified applicants that propose collaborative + projects between departments of primary care medicine and + departments of general, pediatric, or public health dentistry. + ``(2) Qualified applicants that have a record of training + the greatest percentage of providers, or that have demonstrated + significant improvements in the percentage of providers, who + enter and remain in general, pediatric, or public health + dentistry. + ``(3) Qualified applicants that have a record of training + individuals who are from a rural or disadvantaged background, or + from underrepresented minorities. + ``(4) Qualified applicants that establish formal + relationships with Federally qualified health centers, rural + health centers, or accredited teaching facilities and that + conduct training of students, residents, fellows, or faculty at + the center or facility. + ``(5) Qualified applicants that conduct teaching programs + targeting vulnerable populations such as older adults, homeless + individuals, victims of abuse or trauma, individuals with mental + health or substance-related disorders, individuals with + disabilities, and individuals with HIV/AIDS, and in the risk- + based clinical disease management of all populations. + ``(6) Qualified applicants that include educational + activities in cultural competency and health literacy. + ``(7) Qualified applicants that have a high rate for placing + graduates in practice settings that serve underserved areas or + health disparity populations, or who achieve a significant + increase in the rate of placing graduates in such settings. + ``(8) Qualified applicants that intend to establish a + special populations oral health care education center or + training program for the didactic and clinical education of + dentists, dental health professionals, and dental hygienists who + plan to teach oral health care for people with developmental + disabilities, cognitive impairment, complex medical problems, + significant physical limitations, and vulnerable elderly. + + ``(d) Application.--An eligible entity desiring a grant under this +section shall submit to the Secretary an application at such time, in +such manner, and containing such information as the Secretary may +require. + ``(e) Duration of Award.--The period during which payments are made +to an entity from an award of a grant or contract under subsection (a) +shall be 5 years. The provision of such payments shall be subject to +annual approval by the Secretary and subject to the availability of +appropriations for the fiscal year involved to make the payments. + ``(f) Authorizations of Appropriations.--For the purpose of carrying +out subsections (a) and (b), there is authorized to be appropriated +$30,000,000 for fiscal year 2010 and such sums as may be necessary for +each of fiscal years 2011 through 2015. + ``(g) Carryover Funds.--An entity that receives an award under this +section may carry over funds from 1 fiscal year to another without +obtaining approval from the Secretary. In no case + +[[Page 124 STAT. 621]] + +may any funds be carried over pursuant to the preceding sentence for +more than 3 years.''. + +SEC. 5304. ALTERNATIVE DENTAL HEALTH CARE PROVIDERS DEMONSTRATION + PROJECT. + + Subpart X of part D of title III of the Public Health Service Act +(42 U.S.C. 256f et seq.) is amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 340G-1. <> DEMONSTRATION PROGRAM. + + ``(a) In General. <> -- + ``(1) Authorization.--The Secretary is authorized to award + grants to 15 eligible entities to enable such entities to + establish a demonstration program to establish training programs + to train, or to employ, alternative dental health care providers + in order to increase access to dental health care services in + rural and other underserved communities. + ``(2) Definition.--The term `alternative dental health care + providers' includes community dental health coordinators, + advance practice dental hygienists, independent dental + hygienists, supervised dental hygienists, primary care + physicians, dental therapists, dental health aides, and any + other health professional that the Secretary determines + appropriate. + + ``(b) Timeframe.--The demonstration projects funded under this +section shall begin not later than 2 years after the date of enactment +of this section, and shall conclude not later than 7 years after such +date of enactment. + ``(c) Eligible Entities.--To be eligible to receive a grant under +subsection (a), an entity shall-- + ``(1) be-- + ``(A) an institution of higher education, including + a community college; + ``(B) a public-private partnership; + ``(C) a federally qualified health center; + ``(D) an Indian Health Service facility or a tribe + or tribal organization (as such terms are defined in + section 4 of the Indian Self-Determination and Education + Assistance Act); + ``(E) a State or county public health clinic, a + health facility operated by an Indian tribe or tribal + organization, or urban Indian organization providing + dental services; or + ``(F) a public hospital or health system; + ``(2) be within a program accredited by the Commission on + Dental Accreditation or within a dental education program in an + accredited institution; and + ``(3) shall submit an application to the Secretary at such + time, in such manner, and containing such information as the + Secretary may require. + + ``(d) Administrative Provisions.-- + ``(1) Amount of grant.--Each grant under this section shall + be in an amount that is not less than $4,000,000 for the 5-year + period during which the demonstration project being conducted. + ``(2) Disbursement of funds.-- + ``(A) Preliminary disbursements. <> --Beginning 1 year after the enactment of this + section, the Secretary may disperse to any entity + receiving a grant under this section + +[[Page 124 STAT. 622]] + + not more than 20 percent of the total funding awarded to + such entity under such grant, for the purpose of + enabling the entity to plan the demonstration project to + be conducted under such grant. + ``(B) Subsequent disbursements.--The remaining + amount of grant funds not dispersed under subparagraph + (A) shall be dispersed such that not less than 15 + percent of such remaining amount is dispersed each + subsequent year. + + ``(e) Compliance With State Requirements.--Each entity receiving a +grant under this section shall certify that it is in compliance with all +applicable State licensing requirements. + ``(f) <> Evaluation.--The Secretary shall contract +with the Director of the Institute of Medicine to conduct a study of the +demonstration programs conducted under this section that shall provide +analysis, based upon quantitative and qualitative data, regarding access +to dental health care in the United States. + + ``(g) Clarification Regarding Dental Health Aide Program.--Nothing +in this section shall prohibit a dental health aide training program +approved by the Indian Health Service from being eligible for a grant +under this section. + ``(h) Authorization of Appropriations.--There is authorized to be +appropriated such sums as may be necessary to carry out this section.''. + +SEC. 5305. GERIATRIC EDUCATION AND TRAINING; CAREER AWARDS; + COMPREHENSIVE GERIATRIC EDUCATION. + + (a) Workforce Development; Career Awards.--Section 753 of the Public +Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 294c) is amended by adding at the end the +following: + ``(d) Geriatric Workforce Development.-- + ``(1) In general. <> --The + Secretary shall award grants or contracts under this subsection + to entities that operate a geriatric education center pursuant + to subsection (a)(1). + ``(2) Application.--To be eligible for an award under + paragraph (1), an entity described in such paragraph shall + submit to the Secretary an application at such time, in such + manner, and containing such information as the Secretary may + require. + ``(3) Use of funds.--Amounts awarded under a grant or + contract under paragraph (1) shall be used to-- + ``(A) carry out the fellowship program described in + paragraph (4); and + ``(B) carry out 1 of the 2 activities described in + paragraph (5). + ``(4) Fellowship program.-- + ``(A) In general.--Pursuant to paragraph (3), a + geriatric education center that receives an award under + this subsection shall use such funds to offer short-term + intensive courses (referred to in this subsection as a + `fellowship') that focus on geriatrics, chronic care + management, and long-term care that provide supplemental + training for faculty members in medical schools and + other health professions schools with programs in + psychology, pharmacy, nursing, social work, dentistry, + public health, allied health, or other health + disciplines, as approved by the Secretary. Such a + fellowship shall be open to current faculty, and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 623]] + + appropriately credentialed volunteer faculty and + practitioners, who do not have formal training in + geriatrics, to upgrade their knowledge and clinical + skills for the care of older adults and adults with + functional limitations and to enhance their + interdisciplinary teaching skills. + ``(B) Location.--A fellowship shall be offered + either at the geriatric education center that is + sponsoring the course, in collaboration with other + geriatric education centers, or at medical schools, + schools of dentistry, schools of nursing, schools of + pharmacy, schools of social work, graduate programs in + psychology, or allied health and other health + professions schools approved by the Secretary with which + the geriatric education centers are affiliated. + ``(C) CME credit.--Participation in a fellowship + under this paragraph shall be accepted with respect to + complying with continuing health profession education + requirements. As a condition of such acceptance, the + recipient shall agree to subsequently provide a minimum + of 18 hours of voluntary instructional support through a + geriatric education center that is providing clinical + training to students or trainees in long-term care + settings. + ``(5) Additional required activities described.--Pursuant to + paragraph (3), a geriatric education center that receives an + award under this subsection shall use such funds to carry out 1 + of the following 2 activities. + ``(A) Family caregiver and direct care provider + training.--A geriatric education center that receives an + award under this subsection shall offer at least 2 + courses each year, at no charge or nominal cost, to + family caregivers and direct care providers that are + designed to provide practical training for supporting + frail elders and individuals with + disabilities. <> The Secretary + shall require such Centers to work with appropriate + community partners to develop training program content + and to publicize the availability of training courses in + their service areas. All family caregiver and direct + care provider training programs shall include + instruction on the management of psychological and + behavioral aspects of dementia, communication techniques + for working with individuals who have dementia, and the + appropriate, safe, and effective use of medications for + older adults. + ``(B) Incorporation of best practices.--A geriatric + education center that receives an award under this + subsection shall develop and include material on + depression and other mental disorders common among older + adults, medication safety issues for older adults, and + management of the psychological and behavioral aspects + of dementia and communication techniques with + individuals who have dementia in all training courses, + where appropriate. + ``(6) Targets.--A geriatric education center that receives + an award under this subsection shall meet targets approved by + the Secretary for providing geriatric training to a certain + number of faculty or practitioners during the term of the award, + as well as other parameters established by the Secretary. + ``(7) Amount of award.--An award under this subsection shall + be in an amount of $150,000. Not more than 24 geriatric + education centers may receive an award under this subsection. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 624]] + + ``(8) Maintenance of effort.--A geriatric education center + that receives an award under this subsection shall provide + assurances to the Secretary that funds provided to the geriatric + education center under this subsection will be used only to + supplement, not to supplant, the amount of Federal, State, and + local funds otherwise expended by the geriatric education + center. + ``(9) Authorization of appropriations.--In addition to any + other funding available to carry out this section, there is + authorized to be appropriated to carry out this subsection, + $10,800,000 for the period of fiscal year 2011 through 2014. + + ``(e) Geriatric Career Incentive Awards.-- + ``(1) In general. <> --The + Secretary shall award grants or contracts under this section to + individuals described in paragraph (2) to foster greater + interest among a variety of health professionals in entering the + field of geriatrics, long-term care, and chronic care + management. + ``(2) Eligible individuals.--To be eligible to received an + award under paragraph (1), an individual shall-- + ``(A) be an advanced practice nurse, a clinical + social worker, a pharmacist, or student of psychology + who is pursuing a doctorate or other advanced degree in + geriatrics or related fields in an accredited health + professions school; and + ``(B) submit to the Secretary an application at such + time, in such manner, and containing such information as + the Secretary may require. + ``(3) Condition of award.--As a condition of receiving an + award under this subsection, an individual shall agree that, + following completion of the award period, the individual will + teach or practice in the field of geriatrics, long-term care, or + chronic care management for a minimum of 5 years under + guidelines set by the Secretary. + ``(4) Authorization of appropriations.--There is authorized + to be appropriated to carry out this subsection, $10,000,000 for + the period of fiscal years 2011 through 2013.''. + + (b) Expansion of Eligibility for Geriatric Academic Career Awards; +Payment to Institution.--Section 753(c) of the Public Health Service Act +294(c)) <> is amended-- + (1) by redesignating paragraphs (4) and (5) as paragraphs + (5) and (6), respectively; + (2) by striking paragraph (2) through paragraph (3) and + inserting the following: + ``(2) Eligible individuals.--To be eligible to receive an + Award under paragraph (1), an individual shall-- + ``(A) be board certified or board eligible in + internal medicine, family practice, psychiatry, or + licensed dentistry, or have completed any required + training in a discipline and employed in an accredited + health professions school that is approved by the + Secretary; + ``(B) have completed an approved fellowship program + in geriatrics or have completed specialty training in + geriatrics as required by the discipline and any + addition geriatrics training as required by the + Secretary; and + ``(C) have a junior (non-tenured) faculty + appointment at an accredited (as determined by the + Secretary) school of medicine, osteopathic medicine, + nursing, social work, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 625]] + + psychology, dentistry, pharmacy, or other allied health + disciplines in an accredited health professions school + that is approved by the Secretary. + ``(3) Limitations.--No Award under paragraph (1) may be made + to an eligible individual unless the individual-- + ``(A) has submitted to the Secretary an application, + at such time, in such manner, and containing such + information as the Secretary may require, and the + Secretary has approved such application; + ``(B) provides, in such form and manner as the + Secretary may require, assurances that the individual + will meet the service requirement described in paragraph + (6); and + ``(C) provides, in such form and manner as the + Secretary may require, assurances that the individual + has a full-time faculty appointment in a health + professions institution and documented commitment from + such institution to spend 75 percent of the total time + of such individual on teaching and developing skills in + interdisciplinary education in geriatrics. + ``(4) Maintenance of effort.--An eligible individual that + receives an Award under paragraph (1) shall provide assurances + to the Secretary that funds provided to the eligible individual + under this subsection will be used only to supplement, not to + supplant, the amount of Federal, State, and local funds + otherwise expended by the eligible individual.''; and + (3) in paragraph (5), as so designated-- + (A) in subparagraph (A)-- + (i) by inserting ``for individuals who are + physicians'' after ``this section''; and + (ii) <> by inserting + after the period at the end the following: ``The + Secretary shall determine the amount of an Award + under this section for individuals who are not + physicians.''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following: + ``(C) Payment to institution.--The Secretary shall + make payments to institutions which include schools of + medicine, osteopathic medicine, nursing, social work, + psychology, dentistry, and pharmacy, or other allied + health discipline in an accredited health professions + school that is approved by the Secretary.''. + + (c) Comprehensive Geriatric Education.--Section 855 of the Public +Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 298) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (b)-- + (A) in paragraph (3), by striking ``or'' at the end; + (B) in paragraph (4), by striking the period and + inserting ``; or''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(5) establish traineeships for individuals who are + preparing for advanced education nursing degrees in geriatric + nursing, long-term care, gero-psychiatric nursing or other + nursing areas that specialize in the care of the elderly + population.''; and + (2) in subsection (e), by striking ``2003 through 2007'' and + inserting ``2010 through 2014''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 626]] + +SEC. 5306. MENTAL AND BEHAVIORAL HEALTH EDUCATION AND TRAINING GRANTS. + + (a) In General.--Part D of title VII (42 U.S.C. 294 et seq.) is +amended by-- + (1) <> striking section 757; + (2) <> redesignating section 756 (as + amended by section 5103) as section 757; and + (3) inserting after section 755 the following: + +``SEC. 756. <> MENTAL AND BEHAVIORAL HEALTH + EDUCATION AND TRAINING GRANTS. + + ``(a) Grants Authorized.--The Secretary may award grants to eligible +institutions of higher education to support the recruitment of students +for, and education and clinical experience of the students in-- + ``(1) baccalaureate, master's, and doctoral degree programs + of social work, as well as the development of faculty in social + work; + ``(2) accredited master's, doctoral, internship, and post- + doctoral residency programs of psychology for the development + and implementation of interdisciplinary training of psychology + graduate students for providing behavioral and mental health + services, including substance abuse prevention and treatment + services; + ``(3) accredited institutions of higher education or + accredited professional training programs that are establishing + or expanding internships or other field placement programs in + child and adolescent mental health in psychiatry, psychology, + school psychology, behavioral pediatrics, psychiatric nursing, + social work, school social work, substance abuse prevention and + treatment, marriage and family therapy, school counseling, or + professional counseling; and + ``(4) State-licensed mental health nonprofit and for-profit + organizations to enable such organizations to pay for programs + for preservice or in-service training of paraprofessional child + and adolescent mental health workers. + + ``(b) Eligibility Requirements.--To be eligible for a grant under +this section, an institution shall demonstrate-- + ``(1) participation in the institutions' programs of + individuals and groups from different racial, ethnic, cultural, + geographic, religious, linguistic, and class backgrounds, and + different genders and sexual orientations; + ``(2) knowledge and understanding of the concerns of the + individuals and groups described in subsection (a); + ``(3) any internship or other field placement program + assisted under the grant will prioritize cultural and linguistic + competency; + ``(4) the institution will provide to the Secretary such + data, assurances, and information as the Secretary may require; + and + ``(5) with respect to any violation of the agreement between + the Secretary and the institution, the institution will pay such + liquidated damages as prescribed by the Secretary by regulation. + + ``(c) Institutional Requirement.--For grants authorized under +subsection (a)(1), at least 4 of the grant recipients shall + +[[Page 124 STAT. 627]] + +be historically black colleges or universities or other minority-serving +institutions. + ``(d) Priority.-- + ``(1) In selecting the grant recipients in social work under + subsection (a)(1), the Secretary shall give priority to + applicants that-- + ``(A) are accredited by the Council on Social Work + Education; + ``(B) have a graduation rate of not less than 80 + percent for social work students; and + ``(C) exhibit an ability to recruit social workers + from and place social workers in areas with a high need + and high demand population. + ``(2) In selecting the grant recipients in graduate + psychology under subsection (a)(2), the Secretary shall give + priority to institutions in which training focuses on the needs + of vulnerable groups such as older adults and children, + individuals with mental health or substance-related disorders, + victims of abuse or trauma and of combat stress disorders such + as posttraumatic stress disorder and traumatic brain injuries, + homeless individuals, chronically ill persons, and their + families. + ``(3) In selecting the grant recipients in training programs + in child and adolescent mental health under subsections (a)(3) + and (a)(4), the Secretary shall give priority to applicants + that-- + ``(A) have demonstrated the ability to collect data + on the number of students trained in child and + adolescent mental health and the populations served by + such students after graduation or completion of + preservice or in-service training; + ``(B) have demonstrated familiarity with evidence- + based methods in child and adolescent mental health + services, including substance abuse prevention and + treatment services; + ``(C) have programs designed to increase the number + of professionals and paraprofessionals serving high- + priority populations and to applicants who come from + high-priority communities and plan to serve medically + underserved populations, in health professional shortage + areas, or in medically underserved areas; + ``(D) offer curriculum taught collaboratively with a + family on the consumer and family lived experience or + the importance of family-professional or family- + paraprofessional partnerships; and + ``(E) provide services through a community mental + health program described in section 1913(b)(1). + + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriation.--For the fiscal years 2010 +through 2013, there is authorized to be appropriated to carry out this +section-- + ``(1) $8,000,000 for training in social work in subsection + (a)(1); + ``(2) $12,000,000 for training in graduate psychology in + subsection (a)(2), of which not less than $10,000,000 shall be + allocated for doctoral, postdoctoral, and internship level + training; + ``(3) $10,000,000 for training in professional child and + adolescent mental health in subsection (a)(3); and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 628]] + + ``(4) $5,000,000 for training in paraprofessional child and + adolescent work in subsection (a)(4).''. + + (b) Conforming Amendments.--Section 757(b)(2) of the Public Health +Service Act, as redesignated by subsection (a) <> , +is amended by striking ``sections 751(a)(1)(A), 751(a)(1)(B), 753(b), +754(3)(A), and 755(b)'' and inserting ``sections 751(b)(1)(A), 753(b), +and 755(b)''. + +SEC. 5307. CULTURAL COMPETENCY, PREVENTION, AND PUBLIC HEALTH AND + INDIVIDUALS WITH DISABILITIES TRAINING. + + (a) Title VII.--Section 741 of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 293e) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)-- + (A) by striking the subsection heading and inserting + ``Cultural Competency, Prevention, and Public Health and + Individuals With Disability Grants''; and + (B) in paragraph (1), by striking ``for the purpose + of'' and all that follows through the period at the end + and inserting ``for the development, evaluation, and + dissemination of research, demonstration projects, and + model curricula for cultural competency, prevention, + public health proficiency, reducing health disparities, + and aptitude for working with individuals with + disabilities training for use in health professions + schools and continuing education programs, and for other + purposes determined as appropriate by the Secretary.''; + and + (2) by striking subsection (b) and inserting the following: + + ``(b) Collaboration.--In carrying out subsection (a), the Secretary +shall collaborate with health professional societies, licensing and +accreditation entities, health professions schools, and experts in +minority health and cultural competency, prevention, and public health +and disability groups, community-based organizations, and other +organizations as determined appropriate by the Secretary. The Secretary +shall coordinate with curricula and research and demonstration projects +developed under section 807. + ``(c) Dissemination.-- + ``(1) In general.--Model curricula developed under this + section shall be disseminated through the Internet Clearinghouse + under section 270 and such other means as determined appropriate + by the Secretary. + ``(2) Evaluation.--The Secretary shall evaluate the adoption + and the implementation of cultural competency, prevention, and + public health, and working with individuals with a disability + training curricula, and the facilitate inclusion of these + competency measures in quality measurement systems as + appropriate. + + ``(d) Authorization of Appropriations.--There is authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section such sums as may be necessary for +each of fiscal years 2010 through 2015.''. + (b) Title VIII.--Section 807 of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 296e-1) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)-- + (A) by striking the subsection heading and inserting + ``Cultural Competency, Prevention, and Public Health and + Individuals With Disability Grants''; and + (B) by striking ``for the purpose of'' and all that + follows through ``health care.'' and inserting ``for the + development, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 629]] + + evaluation, and dissemination of research, demonstration + projects, and model curricula for cultural competency, + prevention, public health proficiency, reducing health + disparities, and aptitude for working with individuals + with disabilities training for use in health professions + schools and continuing education programs, and for other + purposes determined as appropriate by the Secretary.''; + and + (2) by redesignating subsection (b) as subsection (d); + (3) by inserting after subsection (a) the following: + + ``(b) Collaboration.--In carrying out subsection (a), the Secretary +shall collaborate with the entities described in section 741(b). The +Secretary shall coordinate with curricula and research and demonstration +projects developed under such section 741. + ``(c) Dissemination.--Model curricula developed under this section +shall be disseminated and evaluated in the same manner as model +curricula developed under section 741, as described in subsection (c) of +such section.''; and + (4) in subsection (d), as so redesignated-- + (A) by striking ``subsection (a)'' and inserting + ``this section''; and + (B) by striking ``2001 through 2004'' and inserting + ``2010 through 2015''. + +SEC. 5308. ADVANCED NURSING EDUCATION GRANTS. + + Section 811 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 296j) is +amended-- + (1) in subsection (c)-- + (A) in the subsection heading, by striking ``and + Nurse Midwifery Programs''; and + (B) by striking ``and nurse midwifery''; + (2) in subsection (f)-- + (A) by striking paragraph (2); and + (B) by redesignating paragraph (3) as paragraph (2); + and + (3) by redesignating subsections (d), (e), and (f) as + subsections (e), (f), and (g), respectively; and + (4) by inserting after subsection (c), the following: + + ``(d) Authorized Nurse-midwifery Programs.--Midwifery programs that +are eligible for support under this section are educational programs +that-- + ``(1) have as their objective the education of midwives; and + ``(2) are accredited by the American College of Nurse- + Midwives Accreditation Commission for Midwifery Education.''. + +SEC. 5309. NURSE EDUCATION, PRACTICE, AND RETENTION GRANTS. + + (a) In General.--Section 831 of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 296p) is amended-- + (1) in the section heading, by striking ``retention'' and + inserting ``quality''; + (2) in subsection (a)-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by adding ``or'' after the + semicolon; + (B) by striking paragraph (2); and + (C) by redesignating paragraph (3) as paragraph (2); + (3) in subsection (b)(3), by striking ``managed care, + quality improvement'' and inserting ``coordinated care''; + (4) in subsection (g), by inserting ``, as defined in + section 801(2),'' after ``school of nursing''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 630]] + + (5) in subsection (h), by striking ``2003 through 2007'' and + inserting ``2010 through 2014''. + + (b) Nurse Retention Grants.--Title VIII of the Public Health Service +Act is amended by inserting after section 831 (42 U.S.C. 296b) the +following: + +``SEC. 831A. <> NURSE RETENTION GRANTS. + + ``(a) Retention Priority Areas.--The Secretary may award grants to, +and enter into contracts with, eligible entities to enhance the nursing +workforce by initiating and maintaining nurse retention programs +pursuant to subsection (b) or (c). + ``(b) Grants for Career Ladder Program.--The Secretary may award +grants to, and enter into contracts with, eligible entities for +programs-- + ``(1) to promote career advancement for individuals + including licensed practical nurses, licensed vocational nurses, + certified nurse assistants, home health aides, diploma degree or + associate degree nurses, to become baccalaureate prepared + registered nurses or advanced education nurses in order to meet + the needs of the registered nurse workforce; + ``(2) developing and implementing internships and residency + programs in collaboration with an accredited school of nursing, + as defined by section 801(2), to encourage mentoring and the + development of specialties; or + ``(3) to assist individuals in obtaining education and + training required to enter the nursing profession and advance + within such profession. + + ``(c) Enhancing Patient Care Delivery Systems.-- + ``(1) Grants.--The Secretary may award grants to eligible + entities to improve the retention of nurses and enhance patient + care that is directly related to nursing activities by enhancing + collaboration and communication among nurses and other health + care professionals, and by promoting nurse involvement in the + organizational and clinical decision-making processes of a + health care facility. + ``(2) Priority.--In making awards of grants under this + subsection, the Secretary shall give preference to applicants + that have not previously received an award under this subsection + (or section 831(c) as such section existed on the day before the + date of enactment of this section). + ``(3) Continuation of an award.--The Secretary shall make + continuation of any award under this subsection beyond the + second year of such award contingent on the recipient of such + award having demonstrated to the Secretary measurable and + substantive improvement in nurse retention or patient care. + + ``(d) Other Priority Areas.--The Secretary may award grants to, or +enter into contracts with, eligible entities to address other areas that +are of high priority to nurse retention, as determined by the Secretary. + ``(e) Report.--The Secretary shall submit to the Congress before the +end of each fiscal year a report on the grants awarded and the contracts +entered into under this section. Each such report shall identify the +overall number of such grants and contracts and provide an explanation +of why each such grant or contract will meet the priority need of the +nursing workforce. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 631]] + + ``(f) Eligible Entity.--For purposes of this section, the term +`eligible entity' includes an accredited school of nursing, as defined +by section 801(2), a health care facility, or a partnership of such a +school and facility. + ``(g) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section such sums as may be necessary for +each of fiscal years 2010 through 2012.''. + +SEC. 5310. LOAN REPAYMENT AND SCHOLARSHIP PROGRAM. + + (a) Loan Repayments and Scholarships.--Section 846(a)(3) of the +Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 297n(a)(3)) is amended by inserting +before the semicolon the following: ``, or in a accredited school of +nursing, as defined by section 801(2), as nurse faculty''. + (b) Technical and Conforming Amendments.--Title VIII (42 U.S.C. 296 +et seq.) is amended-- + (1) by redesignating section 810 <> (relating to prohibition against discrimination by + schools on the basis of sex) as section 809 and moving such + section so that it follows section 808; + (2) in sections 835, 836, 838, 840, and 842, <> by striking the term ``this + subpart'' each place it appears and inserting ``this part''; + (3) in section 836(h), <> by striking + the last sentence; + (4) in section 836, by redesignating subsection (l) as + subsection (k); + (5) in section 839, <> by striking + ``839'' and all that follows through ``(a)'' and inserting + ``839. (a)''; + (6) in section 835(b), <> by striking + ``841'' each place it appears and inserting ``871''; + (7) by redesignating section 841 <> as + section 871, moving part F to the end of the title, and + redesignating such part as part I; + (8) in part G-- + (A) by redesignating section 845 <> as section 851; and + (B) by redesignating part G as part F; + (9) in part H-- + (A) by redesignating sections 851 and 852 <> as sections 861 and 862, respectively; + and + (B) by redesignating part H as part G; and + (10) in part I-- + (A) by redesignating section 855, <> as amended by section 5305, as section 865; and + (B) by redesignating part I as part H. + +SEC. 5311. NURSE FACULTY LOAN PROGRAM. + + (a) In General.--Section 846A of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 297n-1) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)-- + (A) in the subsection heading, by striking + ``Establishment'' and inserting ``School of Nursing + Student Loan Fund''; and + (B) by inserting ``accredited'' after ``agreement + with any''; + (2) in subsection (c)-- + (A) in paragraph (2), by striking ``$30,000'' and + all that follows through the semicolon and inserting + ``$35,500, during fiscal years 2010 and 2011 fiscal + years (after fiscal year 2011, such amounts shall be + adjusted to provide for + +[[Page 124 STAT. 632]] + + a cost-of-attendance increase for the yearly loan rate + and the aggregate loan;''; and + (B) in paragraph (3)(A), by inserting ``an + accredited'' after ``faculty member in''; + (3) in subsection (e), by striking ``a school'' and + inserting ``an accredited school''; and + (4) in subsection (f), by striking ``2003 through 2007'' and + inserting ``2010 through 2014''. + + (b) Eligible Individual Student Loan Repayment.--Title VIII of the +Public Health Service Act is amended by inserting after section 846A (42 +U.S.C. 297n-1) the following: + +``SEC. 847. <> ELIGIBLE INDIVIDUAL STUDENT LOAN + REPAYMENT. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary, acting through the Administrator +of the Health Resources and Services Administration, may enter into an +agreement with eligible individuals for the repayment of education +loans, in accordance with this section, to increase the number of +qualified nursing faculty. + ``(b) Agreements.--Each agreement entered into under this subsection +shall require that the eligible individual shall serve as a full-time +member of the faculty of an accredited school of nursing, for a total +period, in the aggregate, of at least 4 years during the 6-year period +beginning on the later of-- + ``(1) the date on which the individual receives a master's + or doctorate nursing degree from an accredited school of + nursing; or + ``(2) the date on which the individual enters into an + agreement under this subsection. + + ``(c) Agreement Provisions.--Agreements entered into pursuant to +subsection (b) shall be entered into on such terms and conditions as the +Secretary may determine, except that-- + ``(1) <> not more than 10 months after the + date on which the 6-year period described under subsection (b) + begins, but in no case before the individual starts as a full- + time member of the faculty of an accredited school of nursing + the Secretary shall begin making payments, for and on behalf of + that individual, on the outstanding principal of, and interest + on, any loan of that individual obtained to pay for such degree; + ``(2) for an individual who has completed a master's in + nursing or equivalent degree in nursing-- + ``(A) payments may not exceed $10,000 per calendar + year; and + ``(B) total payments may not exceed $40,000 during + the 2010 and 2011 fiscal years (after fiscal year 2011, + such amounts shall be adjusted to provide for a cost-of- + attendance increase for the yearly loan rate and the + aggregate loan); and + ``(3) for an individual who has completed a doctorate or + equivalent degree in nursing-- + ``(A) payments may not exceed $20,000 per calendar + year; and + ``(B) total payments may not exceed $80,000 during + the 2010 and 2011 fiscal years (adjusted for subsequent + fiscal years as provided for in the same manner as in + paragraph (2)(B)). + + ``(d) Breach of Agreement.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 633]] + + ``(1) In general.--In the case of any agreement made under + subsection (b), the individual is liable to the Federal + Government for the total amount paid by the Secretary under such + agreement, and for interest on such amount at the maximum legal + prevailing rate, if the individual fails to meet the agreement + terms required under such subsection. + ``(2) Waiver or suspension of liability.--In the case of an + individual making an agreement for purposes of paragraph (1), + the Secretary shall provide for the waiver or suspension of + liability under such paragraph if compliance by the individual + with the agreement involved is impossible or would involve + extreme hardship to the individual or if enforcement of the + agreement with respect to the individual would be + unconscionable. + ``(3) Date certain for recovery.--Subject to paragraph (2), + any amount that the Federal Government is entitled to recover + under paragraph (1) shall be paid to the United States not later + than the expiration of the 3-year period beginning on the date + the United States becomes so entitled. + ``(4) Availability.--Amounts recovered under paragraph (1) + shall be available to the Secretary for making loan repayments + under this section and shall remain available for such purpose + until expended. + + ``(e) Eligible Individual Defined.--For purposes of this section, +the term `eligible individual' means an individual who-- + ``(1) is a United States citizen, national, or lawful + permanent resident; + ``(2) holds an unencumbered license as a registered nurse; + and + ``(3) has either already completed a master's or doctorate + nursing program at an accredited school of nursing or is + currently enrolled on a full-time or part-time basis in such a + program. + + ``(f) Priority.--For the purposes of this section and section 846A, +funding priority will be awarded to School of Nursing Student Loans that +support doctoral nursing students or Individual Student Loan Repayment +that support doctoral nursing students. + ``(g) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section such sums as may be necessary for +each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + +SEC. 5312. AUTHORIZATION OF APPROPRIATIONS FOR PARTS B THROUGH D OF + TITLE VIII. + + Section 871 of the Public Health Service Act, as redesignated and +moved by section 5310, is amended to read as follows: + +``SEC. 871. <> AUTHORIZATION OF APPROPRIATIONS. + + ``For the purpose of carrying out parts B, C, and D (subject to +section 851(g)), there are authorized to be appropriated $338,000,000 +for fiscal year 2010, and such sums as may be necessary for each of the +fiscal years 2011 through 2016.''. + +SEC. 5313. GRANTS TO PROMOTE THE COMMUNITY HEALTH WORKFORCE. + + (a) In General.--Part P of title III of the Public Health Service +Act (42 U.S.C. 280g et seq.) is amended by adding at the end the +following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 634]] + +``SEC. 399V. <> GRANTS TO PROMOTE POSITIVE HEALTH + BEHAVIORS AND OUTCOMES. + + ``(a) Grants Authorized.--The Director of the Centers for Disease +Control and Prevention, in collaboration with the Secretary, shall award +grants to eligible entities to promote positive health behaviors and +outcomes for populations in medically underserved communities through +the use of community health workers. + ``(b) Use of Funds.--Grants awarded under subsection (a) shall be +used to support community health workers-- + ``(1) to educate, guide, and provide outreach in a community + setting regarding health problems prevalent in medically + underserved communities, particularly racial and ethnic minority + populations; + ``(2) to educate and provide guidance regarding effective + strategies to promote positive health behaviors and discourage + risky health behaviors; + ``(3) to educate and provide outreach regarding enrollment + in health insurance including the Children's Health Insurance + Program under title XXI of the Social Security Act, Medicare + under title XVIII of such Act and Medicaid under title XIX of + such Act; + ``(4) to identify, educate, refer, and enroll underserved + populations to appropriate healthcare agencies and community- + based programs and organizations in order to increase access to + quality healthcare services and to eliminate duplicative care; + or + ``(5) to educate, guide, and provide home visitation + services regarding maternal health and prenatal care. + + ``(c) Application.--Each eligible entity that desires to receive a +grant under subsection (a) shall submit an application to the Secretary, +at such time, in such manner, and accompanied by such information as the +Secretary may require. + ``(d) Priority.--In awarding grants under subsection (a), the +Secretary shall give priority to applicants that-- + ``(1) propose to target geographic areas-- + ``(A) with a high percentage of residents who are + eligible for health insurance but are uninsured or + underinsured; + ``(B) with a high percentage of residents who suffer + from chronic diseases; or + ``(C) with a high infant mortality rate; + ``(2) have experience in providing health or health-related + social services to individuals who are underserved with respect + to such services; and + ``(3) have documented community activity and experience with + community health workers. + + ``(e) Collaboration With Academic Institutions and the One-stop +Delivery System.--The Secretary shall encourage community health worker +programs receiving funds under this section to collaborate with academic +institutions and one-stop delivery systems under section 134(c) of the +Workforce Investment Act of 1998. Nothing in this section shall be +construed to require such collaboration. + ``(f) Evidence-based Interventions.--The Secretary shall encourage +community health worker programs receiving funding under this section to +implement a process or an outcome-based + +[[Page 124 STAT. 635]] + +payment system that rewards community health workers for connecting +underserved populations with the most appropriate services at the most +appropriate time. Nothing in this section shall be construed to require +such a payment. + ``(g) Quality Assurance and Cost +Effectiveness. <> --The Secretary shall establish +guidelines for assuring the quality of the training and supervision of +community health workers under the programs funded under this section +and for assuring the cost-effectiveness of such programs. + + ``(h) Monitoring.--The Secretary shall monitor community health +worker programs identified in approved applications under this section +and shall determine whether such programs are in compliance with the +guidelines established under subsection (g). + ``(i) Technical Assistance.--The Secretary may provide technical +assistance to community health worker programs identified in approved +applications under this section with respect to planning, developing, +and operating programs under the grant. + ``(j) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated, such sums as may be necessary to carry out this section +for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014. + ``(k) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Community health worker.--The term `community health + worker', as defined by the Department of Labor as Standard + Occupational Classification [21-1094] means an individual who + promotes health or nutrition within the community in which the + individual resides-- + ``(A) by serving as a liaison between communities + and healthcare agencies; + ``(B) by providing guidance and social assistance to + community residents; + ``(C) by enhancing community residents' ability to + effectively communicate with healthcare providers; + ``(D) by providing culturally and linguistically + appropriate health or nutrition education; + ``(E) by advocating for individual and community + health; + ``(F) by providing referral and follow-up services + or otherwise coordinating care; and + ``(G) by proactively identifying and enrolling + eligible individuals in Federal, State, local, private + or nonprofit health and human services programs. + ``(2) Community setting.--The term `community setting' means + a home or a community organization located in the neighborhood + in which a participant in the program under this section + resides. + ``(3) Eligible entity.--The term `eligible entity' means a + public or nonprofit private entity (including a State or public + subdivision of a State, a public health department, a free + health clinic, a hospital, or a Federally-qualified health + center (as defined in section 1861(aa) of the Social Security + Act)), or a consortium of any such entities. + ``(4) Medically underserved community.--The term `medically + underserved community' means a community identified by a State-- + ``(A) that has a substantial number of individuals + who are members of a medically underserved population, + as defined by section 330(b)(3); and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 636]] + + ``(B) a significant portion of which is a health + professional shortage area as designated under section + 332.''. + +SEC. 5314. FELLOWSHIP TRAINING IN PUBLIC HEALTH. + + Part E of title VII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 294n +et seq.), as amended by section 5206, is further amended by adding at +the end the following: + +``SEC. 778. <> FELLOWSHIP TRAINING IN APPLIED + PUBLIC HEALTH EPIDEMIOLOGY, PUBLIC HEALTH LABORATORY + SCIENCE, PUBLIC HEALTH INFORMATICS, AND EXPANSION OF THE + EPIDEMIC INTELLIGENCE SERVICE. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary may carry out activities to address +documented workforce shortages in State and local health departments in +the critical areas of applied public health epidemiology and public +health laboratory science and informatics and may expand the Epidemic +Intelligence Service. + ``(b) Specific Uses.--In carrying out subsection (a), the Secretary +shall provide for the expansion of existing fellowship programs operated +through the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in a manner that +is designed to alleviate shortages of the type described in subsection +(a). + ``(c) Other Programs.--The Secretary may provide for the expansion +of other applied epidemiology training programs that meet objectives +similar to the objectives of the programs described in subsection (b). + ``(d) Work Obligation.--Participation in fellowship training +programs under this section shall be deemed to be service for purposes +of satisfying work obligations stipulated in contracts under section +338I(j). + ``(e) General Support.--Amounts may be used from grants awarded +under this section to expand the Public Health Informatics Fellowship +Program at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to better +support all public health systems at all levels of government. + ``(f) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section $39,500,000 for each of fiscal +years 2010 through 2013, of which-- + ``(1) $5,000,000 shall be made available in each such fiscal + year for epidemiology fellowship training program activities + under subsections (b) and (c); + ``(2) $5,000,000 shall be made available in each such fiscal + year for laboratory fellowship training programs under + subsection (b); + ``(3) $5,000,000 shall be made available in each such fiscal + year for the Public Health Informatics Fellowship Program under + subsection (e); and + ``(4) $24,500,000 shall be made available for expanding the + Epidemic Intelligence Service under subsection (a).''. + +SEC. 5315. UNITED STATES PUBLIC HEALTH SCIENCES TRACK. + + Title II of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 202 et seq.) is +amended by adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 637]] + + ``PART D--UNITED STATES PUBLIC HEALTH SCIENCES TRACK + +``SEC. 271. <> ESTABLISHMENT. + + ``(a) United States Public Health Services Track.-- + ``(1) In general.--There is hereby authorized to be + established a United States Public Health Sciences Track + (referred to in this part as the `Track'), at sites to be + selected by the Secretary, with authority to grant appropriate + advanced degrees in a manner that uniquely emphasizes team-based + service, public health, epidemiology, and emergency preparedness + and response. It shall be so organized as to graduate not less + than-- + ``(A) 150 medical students annually, 10 of whom + shall be awarded studentships to the Uniformed Services + University of Health Sciences; + ``(B) 100 dental students annually; + ``(C) 250 nursing students annually; + ``(D) 100 public health students annually; + ``(E) 100 behavioral and mental health professional + students annually; + ``(F) 100 physician assistant or nurse practitioner + students annually; and + ``(G) 50 pharmacy students annually. + ``(2) Locations.--The Track shall be located at existing and + accredited, affiliated health professions education training + programs at academic health centers located in regions of the + United States determined appropriate by the Surgeon General, in + consultation with the National Health Care Workforce Commission + established in section 5101 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act. + + ``(b) Number of Graduates.--Except as provided in subsection (a), +the number of persons to be graduated from the Track shall be prescribed +by the Secretary. In so prescribing the number of persons to be +graduated from the Track, the Secretary shall institute actions +necessary to ensure the maximum number of first-year enrollments in the +Track consistent with the academic capacity of the affiliated sites and +the needs of the United States for medical, dental, and nursing +personnel. + ``(c) Development.--The development of the Track may be by such +phases as the Secretary may prescribe subject to the requirements of +subsection (a). + ``(d) Integrated Longitudinal Plan.--The Surgeon General shall +develop an integrated longitudinal plan for health professions +continuing education throughout the continuum of health-related +education, training, and practice. Training under such plan shall +emphasize patient-centered, interdisciplinary, and care coordination +skills. Experience with deployment of emergency response teams shall be +included during the clinical experiences. + ``(e) Faculty Development.--The Surgeon General shall develop +faculty development programs and curricula in decentralized venues of +health care, to balance urban, tertiary, and inpatient venues. + +``SEC. 272. <> ADMINISTRATION. + + ``(a) In General.--The business of the Track shall be conducted by +the Surgeon General with funds appropriated for and provided + +[[Page 124 STAT. 638]] + +by the Department of Health and Human Services. The National Health Care +Workforce Commission shall assist the Surgeon General in an advisory +capacity. + ``(b) Faculty.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Surgeon General, after considering + the recommendations of the National Health Care Workforce + Commission, shall obtain the services of such professors, + instructors, and administrative and other employees as may be + necessary to operate the Track, but utilize when possible, + existing affiliated health professions training institutions. + Members of the faculty and staff shall be employed under salary + schedules and granted retirement and other related benefits + prescribed by the Secretary so as to place the employees of the + Track faculty on a comparable basis with the employees of fully + accredited schools of the health professions within the United + States. + ``(2) Titles.--The Surgeon General may confer academic + titles, as appropriate, upon the members of the faculty. + ``(3) Nonapplication of provisions.--The limitations in + section 5373 of title 5, United States Code, shall not apply to + the authority of the Surgeon General under paragraph (1) to + prescribe salary schedules and other related benefits. + + ``(c) Agreements.--The Surgeon General may negotiate agreements with +agencies of the Federal Government to utilize on a reimbursable basis +appropriate existing Federal medical resources located in the United +States (or locations selected in accordance with section 271(a)(2)). +Under such agreements the facilities concerned will retain their +identities and basic missions. The Surgeon General may negotiate +affiliation agreements with accredited universities and health +professions training institutions in the United States. Such agreements +may include provisions for payments for educational services provided +students participating in Department of Health and Human Services +educational programs. + ``(d) Programs.--The Surgeon General may establish the following +educational programs for Track students: + ``(1) Postdoctoral, postgraduate, and technological + programs. + ``(2) A cooperative program for medical, dental, physician + assistant, pharmacy, behavioral and mental health, public + health, and nursing students. + ``(3) Other programs that the Surgeon General determines + necessary in order to operate the Track in a cost-effective + manner. + + ``(e) Continuing Medical Education.--The Surgeon General shall +establish programs in continuing medical education for members of the +health professions to the end that high standards of health care may be +maintained within the United States. + ``(f) Authority of the Surgeon General.-- + ``(1) <> In general.--The Surgeon + General is authorized-- + ``(A) to enter into contracts with, accept grants + from, and make grants to any nonprofit entity for the + purpose of carrying out cooperative enterprises in + medical, dental, physician assistant, pharmacy, + behavioral and mental health, public health, and nursing + research, consultation, and education; + ``(B) to enter into contracts with entities under + which the Surgeon General may furnish the services of + such + +[[Page 124 STAT. 639]] + + professional, technical, or clerical personnel as may be + necessary to fulfill cooperative enterprises undertaken + by the Track; + ``(C) to accept, hold, administer, invest, and spend + any gift, devise, or bequest of personal property made + to the Track, including any gift, devise, or bequest for + the support of an academic chair, teaching, research, or + demonstration project; + ``(D) to enter into agreements with entities that + may be utilized by the Track for the purpose of + enhancing the activities of the Track in education, + research, and technological applications of knowledge; + and + ``(E) to accept the voluntary services of guest + scholars and other persons. + ``(2) Limitation.--The Surgeon General may not enter into + any contract with an entity if the contract would obligate the + Track to make outlays in advance of the enactment of budget + authority for such outlays. + ``(3) Scientists.--Scientists or other medical, dental, or + nursing personnel utilized by the Track under an agreement + described in paragraph (1) may be appointed to any position + within the Track and may be permitted to perform such duties + within the Track as the Surgeon General may approve. + ``(4) Volunteer services.--A person who provides voluntary + services under the authority of subparagraph (E) of paragraph + (1) shall be considered to be an employee of the Federal + Government for the purposes of chapter 81 of title 5, relating + to compensation for work-related injuries, and to be an employee + of the Federal Government for the purposes of chapter 171 of + title 28, relating to tort claims. Such a person who is not + otherwise employed by the Federal Government shall not be + considered to be a Federal employee for any other purpose by + reason of the provision of such services. + +``SEC. 273. <> STUDENTS; SELECTION; OBLIGATION. + + ``(a) Student Selection.-- + ``(1) In general.--Medical, dental, physician assistant, + pharmacy, behavioral and mental health, public health, and + nursing students at the Track shall be selected under procedures + prescribed by the Surgeon General. In so prescribing, the + Surgeon General shall consider the recommendations of the + National Health Care Workforce Commission. + ``(2) Priority.--In developing admissions procedures under + paragraph (1), the Surgeon General shall ensure that such + procedures give priority to applicant medical, dental, physician + assistant, pharmacy, behavioral and mental health, public + health, and nursing students from rural communities and + underrepresented minorities. + + ``(b) Contract and Service Obligation.-- + ``(1) Contract.--Upon being admitted to the Track, a + medical, dental, physician assistant, pharmacy, behavioral and + mental health, public health, or nursing student shall enter + into a written contract with the Surgeon General that shall + contain-- + ``(A) an agreement under which-- + ``(i) subject to subparagraph (B), the Surgeon + General agrees to provide the student with tuition + (or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 640]] + + tuition remission) and a student stipend + (described in paragraph (2)) in each school year + for a period of years (not to exceed 4 school + years) determined by the student, during which + period the student is enrolled in the Track at an + affiliated or other participating health + professions institution pursuant to an agreement + between the Track and such institution; and + ``(ii) subject to subparagraph (B), the + student agrees-- + ``(I) to accept the provision of + such tuition and student stipend to the + student; + ``(II) to maintain enrollment at the + Track until the student completes the + course of study involved; + ``(III) while enrolled in such + course of study, to maintain an + acceptable level of academic standing + (as determined by the Surgeon General); + ``(IV) if pursuing a degree from a + school of medicine or osteopathic + medicine, dental, public health, or + nursing school or a physician assistant, + pharmacy, or behavioral and mental + health professional program, to complete + a residency or internship in a specialty + that the Surgeon General determines is + appropriate; and + ``(V) to serve for a period of time + (referred to in this part as the `period + of obligated service') within the + Commissioned Corps of the Public Health + Service equal to 2 years for each school + year during which such individual was + enrolled at the College, reduced as + provided for in paragraph (3); + ``(B) a provision that any financial obligation of + the United States arising out of a contract entered into + under this part and any obligation of the student which + is conditioned thereon, is contingent upon funds being + appropriated to carry out this part; + ``(C) a statement of the damages to which the United + States is entitled for the student's breach of the + contract; and + ``(D) such other statements of the rights and + liabilities of the Secretary and of the individual, not + inconsistent with the provisions of this part. + ``(2) Tuition and student stipend.-- + ``(A) Tuition remission rates.--The Surgeon General, + based on the recommendations of the National Health Care + Workforce Commission, shall establish Federal tuition + remission rates to be used by the Track to provide + reimbursement to affiliated and other participating + health professions institutions for the cost of + educational services provided by such institutions to + Track students. The agreement entered into by such + participating institutions under paragraph (1)(A)(i) + shall contain an agreement to accept as payment in full + the established remission rate under this subparagraph. + ``(B) Stipend.--The Surgeon General, based on the + recommendations of the National Health Care Workforce + +[[Page 124 STAT. 641]] + + Commission, shall establish and update Federal stipend + rates for payment to students under this part. + ``(3) Reductions in the period of obligated service.--The + period of obligated service under paragraph (1)(A)(ii)(V) shall + be reduced-- + ``(A) in the case of a student who elects to + participate in a high-needs speciality residency (as + determined by the National Health Care Workforce + Commission), by 3 months for each year of such + participation (not to exceed a total of 12 months); and + ``(B) in the case of a student who, upon completion + of their residency, elects to practice in a Federal + medical facility (as defined in section 781(e)) that is + located in a health professional shortage area (as + defined in section 332), by 3 months for year of full- + time practice in such a facility (not to exceed a total + of 12 months). + + ``(c) Second 2 Years of Service.--During the third and fourth years +in which a medical, dental, physician assistant, pharmacy, behavioral +and mental health, public health, or nursing student is enrolled in the +Track, training should be designed to prioritize clinical rotations in +Federal medical facilities in health professional shortage areas, and +emphasize a balance of hospital and community-based experiences, and +training within interdisciplinary teams. + ``(d) Dentist, Physician Assistant, Pharmacist, Behavioral and +Mental Health Professional, Public Health Professional, and Nurse +Training.--The Surgeon General shall establish provisions applicable +with respect to dental, physician assistant, pharmacy, behavioral and +mental health, public health, and nursing students that are comparable +to those for medical students under this section, including service +obligations, tuition support, and stipend support. The Surgeon General +shall give priority to health professions training institutions that +train medical, dental, physician assistant, pharmacy, behavioral and +mental health, public health, and nursing students for some significant +period of time together, but at a minimum have a discrete and shared +core curriculum. + ``(e) <> Elite Federal Disaster Teams.--The Surgeon +General, in consultation with the Secretary, the Director of the Centers +for Disease Control and Prevention, and other appropriate military and +Federal government agencies, shall develop criteria for the appointment +of highly qualified Track faculty, medical, dental, physician assistant, +pharmacy, behavioral and mental health, public health, and nursing +students, and graduates to elite Federal disaster preparedness teams to +train and to respond to public health emergencies, natural disasters, +bioterrorism events, and other emergencies. + + ``(f) <> Student Dropped From Track in Affiliate +School.--A medical, dental, physician assistant, pharmacy, behavioral +and mental health, public health, or nursing student who, under +regulations prescribed by the Surgeon General, is dropped from the Track +in an affiliated school for deficiency in conduct or studies, or for +other reasons, shall be liable to the United States for all tuition and +stipend support provided to the student. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 642]] + +``SEC. 274. <> FUNDING. + + ``Beginning <> with fiscal year 2010, the +Secretary shall transfer from the Public Health and Social Services +Emergency Fund such sums as may be necessary to carry out this part.''. + + Subtitle E--Supporting the Existing Health Care Workforce + +SEC. 5401. CENTERS OF EXCELLENCE. + + Section 736 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 293) is +amended by striking subsection (h) and inserting the following: + ``(h) <> Formula for Allocations.-- + ``(1) <> Allocations.--Based on the + amount appropriated under subsection (i) for a fiscal year, the + following subparagraphs shall apply as appropriate: + ``(A) In general.--If the amounts appropriated under + subsection (i) for a fiscal year are $24,000,000 or + less-- + ``(i) the Secretary shall make available + $12,000,000 for grants under subsection (a) to + health professions schools that meet the + conditions described in subsection (c)(2)(A); and + ``(ii) and available after grants are made + with funds under clause (i), the Secretary shall + make available-- + ``(I) 60 percent of such amount for + grants under subsection (a) to health + professions schools that meet the + conditions described in paragraph (3) or + (4) of subsection (c) (including meeting + the conditions under subsection (e)); + and + ``(II) 40 percent of such amount for + grants under subsection (a) to health + professions schools that meet the + conditions described in subsection + (c)(5). + ``(B) Funding in excess of $24,000,000.--If amounts + appropriated under subsection (i) for a fiscal year + exceed $24,000,000 but are less than $30,000,000-- + ``(i) 80 percent of such excess amounts shall + be made available for grants under subsection (a) + to health professions schools that meet the + requirements described in paragraph (3) or (4) of + subsection (c) (including meeting conditions + pursuant to subsection (e)); and + ``(ii) 20 percent of such excess amount shall + be made available for grants under subsection (a) + to health professions schools that meet the + conditions described in subsection (c)(5). + ``(C) Funding in excess of $30,000,000.--If amounts + appropriated under subsection (i) for a fiscal year + exceed $30,000,000 but are less than $40,000,000, the + Secretary shall make available-- + ``(i) not less than $12,000,000 for grants + under subsection (a) to health professions schools + that meet the conditions described in subsection + (c)(2)(A); + ``(ii) not less than $12,000,000 for grants + under subsection (a) to health professions schools + that meet the conditions described in paragraph + (3) or (4) of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 643]] + + subsection (c) (including meeting conditions + pursuant to subsection (e)); + ``(iii) not less than $6,000,000 for grants + under subsection (a) to health professions schools + that meet the conditions described in subsection + (c)(5); and + ``(iv) after grants are made with funds under + clauses (i) through (iii), any remaining excess + amount for grants under subsection (a) to health + professions schools that meet the conditions + described in paragraph (2)(A), (3), (4), or (5) of + subsection (c). + ``(D) Funding in excess of $40,000,000.--If amounts + appropriated under subsection (i) for a fiscal year are + $40,000,000 or more, the Secretary shall make + available-- + ``(i) not less than $16,000,000 for grants + under subsection (a) to health professions schools + that meet the conditions described in subsection + (c)(2)(A); + ``(ii) not less than $16,000,000 for grants + under subsection (a) to health professions schools + that meet the conditions described in paragraph + (3) or (4) of subsection (c) (including meeting + conditions pursuant to subsection (e)); + ``(iii) not less than $8,000,000 for grants + under subsection (a) to health professions schools + that meet the conditions described in subsection + (c)(5); and + ``(iv) after grants are made with funds under + clauses (i) through (iii), any remaining funds for + grants under subsection (a) to health professions + schools that meet the conditions described in + paragraph (2)(A), (3), (4), or (5) of subsection + (c). + ``(2) No limitation.--Nothing in this subsection shall be + construed as limiting the centers of excellence referred to in + this section to the designated amount, or to preclude such + entities from competing for grants under this section. + ``(3) Maintenance of effort.-- + ``(A) In general.--With respect to activities for + which a grant made under this part are authorized to be + expended, the Secretary may not make such a grant to a + center of excellence for any fiscal year unless the + center agrees to maintain expenditures of non-Federal + amounts for such activities at a level that is not less + than the level of such expenditures maintained by the + center for the fiscal year preceding the fiscal year for + which the school receives such a grant. + ``(B) Use of federal funds.--With respect to any + Federal amounts received by a center of excellence and + available for carrying out activities for which a grant + under this part is authorized to be expended, the center + shall, before expending the grant, expend the Federal + amounts obtained from sources other than the grant, + unless given prior approval from the Secretary. + + ``(i) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section-- + ``(1) $50,000,000 for each of the fiscal years 2010 through + 2015; and + ``(2) and such sums as are necessary for each subsequent + fiscal year.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 644]] + +SEC. 5402. HEALTH CARE PROFESSIONALS TRAINING FOR DIVERSITY. + + (a) Loan Repayments and Fellowships Regarding Faculty Positions.-- +Section 738(a)(1) of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +293b(a)(1)) is amended by striking ``$20,000 of the principal and +interest of the educational loans of such individuals.'' and inserting +``$30,000 of the principal and interest of the educational loans of such +individuals.''. + (b) Scholarships for Disadvantaged Students.--Section 740(a) of such +Act (42 U.S.C. 293d(a)) is amended by striking ``$37,000,000'' and all +that follows through ``2002'' and inserting ``$51,000,000 for fiscal +year 2010, and such sums as may be necessary for each of the fiscal +years 2011 through 2014''. + (c) Reauthorization for Loan Repayments and Fellowships Regarding +Faculty Positions.--Section 740(b) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 293d(b)) is +amended by striking ``appropriated'' and all that follows through the +period at the end and inserting ``appropriated, $5,000,000 for each of +the fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + (d) Reauthorization for Educational Assistance in the Health +Professions Regarding Individuals From a Disadvantaged Background.-- +Section 740(c) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 293d(c)) is amended by striking +the first sentence and inserting the following: ``For the purpose of +grants and contracts under section 739(a)(1), there is authorized to be +appropriated $60,000,000 for fiscal year 2010 and such sums as may be +necessary for each of the fiscal years 2011 through 2014.'' + +SEC. 5403. INTERDISCIPLINARY, COMMUNITY-BASED LINKAGES. + + (a) Area Health Education Centers.--Section 751 of the Public Health +Service Act (42 U.S.C. 294a) is amended to read as follows: + +``SEC. 751. AREA HEALTH EDUCATION CENTERS. + + ``(a) Establishment of Awards.--The Secretary shall make the +following 2 types of awards in accordance with this section: + ``(1) Infrastructure development award.--The Secretary shall + make awards to eligible entities to enable such entities to + initiate health care workforce educational programs or to + continue to carry out comparable programs that are operating at + the time the award is made by planning, developing, operating, + and evaluating an area health education center program. + ``(2) Point of service maintenance and enhancement award.-- + The Secretary shall make awards to eligible entities to maintain + and improve the effectiveness and capabilities of an existing + area health education center program, and make other + modifications to the program that are appropriate due to changes + in demographics, needs of the populations served, or other + similar issues affecting the area health education center + program. For the purposes of this section, the term `Program' + refers to the area health education center program. + + ``(b) Eligible Entities; Application.-- + ``(1) <> Eligible entities.-- + ``(A) Infrastructure development.--For purposes of + subsection (a)(1), the term `eligible entity' means a + school of medicine or osteopathic medicine, an + incorporated consortium of such schools, or the parent + institutions of such a school. With respect to a State + in which no area + +[[Page 124 STAT. 645]] + + health education center program is in operation, the + Secretary may award a grant or contract under subsection + (a)(1) to a school of nursing. + ``(B) Point of service maintenance and + enhancement.--For purposes of subsection (a)(2), the + term `eligible entity' means an entity that has received + funds under this section, is operating an area health + education center program, including an area health + education center or centers, and has a center or centers + that are no longer eligible to receive financial + assistance under subsection (a)(1). + ``(2) Application.--An eligible entity desiring to receive + an award under this section shall submit to the Secretary an + application at such time, in such manner, and containing such + information as the Secretary may require. + + ``(c) Use of Funds.-- + ``(1) Required activities. <> --An eligible + entity shall use amounts awarded under a grant under subsection + (a)(1) or (a)(2) to carry out the following activities: + ``(A) Develop and implement strategies, in + coordination with the applicable one-stop delivery + system under section 134(c) of the Workforce Investment + Act of 1998, to recruit individuals from + underrepresented minority populations or from + disadvantaged or rural backgrounds into health + professions, and support such individuals in attaining + such careers. + ``(B) Develop and implement strategies to foster and + provide community-based training and education to + individuals seeking careers in health professions within + underserved areas for the purpose of developing and + maintaining a diverse health care workforce that is + prepared to deliver high-quality care, with an emphasis + on primary care, in underserved areas or for health + disparity populations, in collaboration with other + Federal and State health care workforce development + programs, the State workforce agency, and local + workforce investment boards, and in health care safety + net sites. + ``(C) Prepare individuals to more effectively + provide health services to underserved areas and health + disparity populations through field placements or + preceptorships in conjunction with community-based + organizations, accredited primary care residency + training programs, Federally qualified health centers, + rural health clinics, public health departments, or + other appropriate facilities. + ``(D) Conduct and participate in interdisciplinary + training that involves physicians, physician assistants, + nurse practitioners, nurse midwives, dentists, + psychologists, pharmacists, optometrists, community + health workers, public and allied health professionals, + or other health professionals, as practicable. + ``(E) Deliver or facilitate continuing education and + information dissemination programs for health care + professionals, with an emphasis on individuals providing + care in underserved areas and for health disparity + populations. + ``(F) Propose and implement effective program and + outcomes measurement and evaluation strategies. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 646]] + + ``(G) Establish a youth public health program to + expose and recruit high school students into health + careers, with a focus on careers in public health. + ``(2) Innovative opportunities.--An eligible entity may use + amounts awarded under a grant under subsection (a)(1) or + subsection (a)(2) to carry out any of the following activities: + ``(A) Develop and implement innovative curricula in + collaboration with community-based accredited primary + care residency training programs, Federally qualified + health centers, rural health clinics, behavioral and + mental health facilities, public health departments, or + other appropriate facilities, with the goal of + increasing the number of primary care physicians and + other primary care providers prepared to serve in + underserved areas and health disparity populations. + ``(B) Coordinate community-based participatory + research with academic health centers, and facilitate + rapid flow and dissemination of evidence-based health + care information, research results, and best practices + to improve quality, efficiency, and effectiveness of + health care and health care systems within community + settings. + ``(C) Develop and implement other strategies to + address identified workforce needs and increase and + enhance the health care workforce in the area served by + the area health education center program. + + ``(d) Requirements.-- + ``(1) Area health education center program.--In carrying out + this section, the Secretary shall ensure the following: + ``(A) An entity that receives an award under this + section shall conduct at least 10 percent of clinical + education required for medical students in community + settings that are removed from the primary teaching + facility of the contracting institution for grantees + that operate a school of medicine or osteopathic + medicine. In States in which an entity that receives an + award under this section is a nursing school or its + parent institution, the Secretary shall alternatively + ensure that-- + ``(i) the nursing school conducts at least 10 + percent of clinical education required for nursing + students in community settings that are remote + from the primary teaching facility of the school; + and + ``(ii) the entity receiving the award + maintains a written agreement with a school of + medicine or osteopathic medicine to place students + from that school in training sites in the area + health education center program area. + ``(B) An entity receiving funds under subsection + (a)(2) does not distribute such funding to a center that + is eligible to receive funding under subsection (a)(1). + ``(2) Area health education center.--The Secretary shall + ensure that each area health education center program includes + at least 1 area health education center, and that each such + center-- + ``(A) is a public or private organization whose + structure, governance, and operation is independent from + the awardee and the parent institution of the awardee; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 647]] + + ``(B) is not a school of medicine or osteopathic + medicine, the parent institution of such a school, or a + branch campus or other subunit of a school of medicine + or osteopathic medicine or its parent institution, or a + consortium of such entities; + ``(C) designates an underserved area or population + to be served by the center which is in a location + removed from the main location of the teaching + facilities of the schools participating in the program + with such center and does not duplicate, in whole or in + part, the geographic area or population served by any + other center; + ``(D) fosters networking and collaboration among + communities and between academic health centers and + community-based centers; + ``(E) serves communities with a demonstrated need of + health professionals in partnership with academic + medical centers; + ``(F) addresses the health care workforce needs of + the communities served in coordination with the public + workforce investment system; and + ``(G) has a community-based governing or advisory + board that reflects the diversity of the communities + involved. + + ``(e) Matching Funds.--With respect to the costs of operating a +program through a grant under this section, to be eligible for financial +assistance under this section, an entity shall make available (directly +or through contributions from State, county or municipal governments, or +the private sector) recurring non-Federal contributions in cash or in +kind, toward such costs in an amount that is equal to not less than 50 +percent of such costs. At least 25 percent of the total required non- +Federal contributions shall be in cash. An entity may apply to the +Secretary for a waiver of not more than 75 percent of the matching fund +amount required by the entity for each of the first 3 years the entity +is funded through a grant under subsection (a)(1). + ``(f) Limitation.--Not less than 75 percent of the total amount +provided to an area health education center program under subsection +(a)(1) or (a)(2) shall be allocated to the area health education centers +participating in the program under this section. <> To provide needed flexibility to newly funded area health +education center programs, the Secretary may waive the requirement in +the sentence for the first 2 years of a new area health education center +program funded under subsection (a)(1). + + ``(g) Award.--An award to an entity under this section shall be not +less than $250,000 annually per area health education center included in +the program involved. If amounts appropriated to carry out this section +are not sufficient to comply with the preceding sentence, the Secretary +may reduce the per center amount provided for in such sentence as +necessary, provided the distribution established in subsection (j)(2) is +maintained. + ``(h) Project Terms.-- + ``(1) In general.--Except as provided in paragraph (2), the + period during which payments may be made under an award under + subsection (a)(1) may not exceed-- + ``(A) in the case of a program, 12 years; or + ``(B) in the case of a center within a program, 6 + years. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 648]] + + ``(2) Exception.--The periods described in paragraph (1) + shall not apply to programs receiving point of service + maintenance and enhancement awards under subsection (a)(2) to + maintain existing centers and activities. + + ``(i) Inapplicability of Provision.--Notwithstanding any other +provision of this title, section 791(a) shall not apply to an area +health education center funded under this section. + ``(j) Authorization of Appropriations.-- + ``(1) In general.--There is authorized to be appropriated to + carry out this section $125,000,000 for each of the fiscal years + 2010 through 2014. + ``(2) Requirements.--Of the amounts appropriated for a + fiscal year under paragraph (1)-- + ``(A) not more than 35 percent shall be used for + awards under subsection (a)(1); + ``(B) not less than 60 percent shall be used for + awards under subsection (a)(2); + ``(C) not more than 1 percent shall be used for + grants and contracts to implement outcomes evaluation + for the area health education centers; and + ``(D) not more than 4 percent shall be used for + grants and contracts to provide technical assistance to + entities receiving awards under this section. + ``(3) Carryover funds.--An entity that receives an award + under this section may carry over funds from 1 fiscal year to + another without obtaining approval from the Secretary. In no + case may any funds be carried over pursuant to the preceding + sentence for more than 3 years. + + ``(k) Sense of Congress.--It is the sense of the Congress that every +State have an area health education center program in effect under this +section.''. + (b) Continuing Educational Support for Health Professionals Serving +in Underserved Communities.--Part D of title VII of the Public Health +Service Act (42 U.S.C. 294 et seq.) is amended by striking section +752 <> and inserting the following: + +``SEC. 752. CONTINUING EDUCATIONAL SUPPORT FOR HEALTH PROFESSIONALS + SERVING IN UNDERSERVED COMMUNITIES. + + ``(a) In General. <> --The Secretary shall +make grants to, and enter into contracts with, eligible entities to +improve health care, increase retention, increase representation of +minority faculty members, enhance the practice environment, and provide +information dissemination and educational support to reduce professional +isolation through the timely dissemination of research findings using +relevant resources. + + ``(b) Eligible Entities. <> --For purposes of +this section, the term `eligible entity' means an entity described in +section 799(b). + + ``(c) Application.--An eligible entity desiring to receive an award +under this section shall submit to the Secretary an application at such +time, in such manner, and containing such information as the Secretary +may require. + ``(d) Use of Funds.--An eligible entity shall use amounts awarded +under a grant or contract under this section to provide + +[[Page 124 STAT. 649]] + +innovative supportive activities to enhance education through distance +learning, continuing educational activities, collaborative conferences, +and electronic and telelearning activities, with priority for primary +care. + ``(e) Authorization.--There is authorized to be appropriated to +carry out this section $5,000,000 for each of the fiscal years 2010 +through 2014, and such sums as may be necessary for each subsequent +fiscal year.''. + +SEC. 5404. WORKFORCE DIVERSITY GRANTS. + + Section 821 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 296m) is +amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)-- + (A) by striking ``The Secretary may'' and inserting + the following: + ``(1) Authority.--The Secretary may''; + (B) by striking ``pre-entry preparation, and + retention activities'' and inserting the following: + ``stipends for diploma or associate degree nurses to + enter a bridge or degree completion program, student + scholarships or stipends for accelerated nursing degree + programs, pre-entry preparation, advanced education + preparation, and retention activities''; and + (2) in subsection (b)-- + (A) by striking ``First'' and all that follows + through ``including the'' and inserting ``National + Advisory Council on Nurse Education and Practice and + consult with nursing associations including the National + Coalition of Ethnic Minority Nurse Associations,''; and + (B) by inserting before the period the following: + ``, and other organizations determined appropriate by + the Secretary''. + +SEC. 5405. PRIMARY CARE EXTENSION PROGRAM. + + Part P of title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 280g +et seq.), as amended by section 5313, is further amended by adding at +the end the following: + +``SEC. 399W. <> PRIMARY CARE EXTENSION PROGRAM. + + ``(a) Establishment, Purpose and Definition.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary, acting through the + Director of the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality, + shall establish a Primary Care Extension Program. + ``(2) Purpose.--The Primary Care Extension Program shall + provide support and assistance to primary care providers to + educate providers about preventive medicine, health promotion, + chronic disease management, mental and behavioral health + services (including substance abuse prevention and treatment + services), and evidence-based and evidence-informed therapies + and techniques, in order to enable providers to incorporate such + matters into their practice and to improve community health by + working with community-based health connectors (referred to in + this section as `Health Extension Agents'). + ``(3) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(A) Health extension agent.--The term `Health + Extension Agent' means any local, community-based health + worker who facilitates and provides assistance to + primary care practices by implementing quality + improvement or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 650]] + + system redesign, incorporating the principles of the + patient-centered medical home to provide high-quality, + effective, efficient, and safe primary care and to + provide guidance to patients in culturally and + linguistically appropriate ways, and linking practices + to diverse health system resources. + ``(B) Primary care provider.--The term `primary care + provider' means a clinician who provides integrated, + accessible health care services and who is accountable + for addressing a large majority of personal health care + needs, including providing preventive and health + promotion services for men, women, and children of all + ages, developing a sustained partnership with patients, + and practicing in the context of family and community, + as recognized by a State licensing or regulatory + authority, unless otherwise specified in this section. + + ``(b) Grants To Establish State Hubs and Local Primary Care +Extension Agencies.-- + ``(1) Grants.--The Secretary shall award competitive grants + to States for the establishment of State- or multistate-level + primary care Primary Care Extension Program State Hubs (referred + to in this section as `Hubs'). + ``(2) Composition of hubs.--A Hub established by a State + pursuant to paragraph (1)-- + ``(A) shall consist of, at a minimum, the State + health department, the entity responsible for + administering the State Medicaid program (if other than + the State health department), the State-level entity + administering the Medicare program, and the departments + of 1 or more health professions schools in the State + that train providers in primary care; and + ``(B) may include entities such as hospital + associations, primary care practice-based research + networks, health professional societies, State primary + care associations, State licensing boards, organizations + with a contract with the Secretary under section 1153 of + the Social Security Act, consumer groups, and other + appropriate entities. + + ``(c) State and Local Activities.-- + ``(1) Hub activities.--Hubs established under a grant under + subsection (b) shall-- + ``(A) <> submit to the Secretary a plan + to coordinate functions with quality improvement + organizations and area health education centers if such + entities are members of the Hub not described in + subsection (b)(2)(A); + ``(B) <> contract with a county- + or local-level entity that shall serve as the Primary + Care Extension Agency to administer the services + described in paragraph (2); + ``(C) organize and administer grant funds to county- + or local-level Primary Care Extension Agencies that + serve a catchment area, as determined by the State; and + ``(D) organize State-wide or multistate networks of + local-level Primary Care Extension Agencies to share and + disseminate information and practices. + ``(2) Local primary care extension agency activities.-- + ``(A) Required activities.--Primary Care Extension + Agencies established by a Hub under paragraph (1) + shall-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 651]] + + ``(i) assist primary care providers to + implement a patient-centered medical home to + improve the accessibility, quality, and efficiency + of primary care services, including health homes; + ``(ii) develop and support primary care + learning communities to enhance the dissemination + of research findings for evidence-based practice, + assess implementation of practice improvement, + share best practices, and involve community + clinicians in the generation of new knowledge and + identification of important questions for + research; + ``(iii) participate in a national network of + Primary Care Extension Hubs and propose how the + Primary Care Extension Agency will share and + disseminate lessons learned and best practices; + and + ``(iv) <> develop a plan for + financial sustainability involving State, local, + and private contributions, to provide for the + reduction in Federal funds that is expected after + an initial 6-year period of program establishment, + infrastructure development, and planning. + ``(B) Discretionary activities.--Primary Care + Extension Agencies established by a Hub under paragraph + (1) may-- + ``(i) provide technical assistance, training, + and organizational support for community health + teams established under section 3602 of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act; + ``(ii) collect data and provision of primary + care provider feedback from standardized + measurements of processes and outcomes to aid in + continuous performance improvement; + ``(iii) collaborate with local health + departments, community health centers, tribes and + tribal entities, and other community agencies to + identify community health priorities and local + health workforce needs, and participate in + community-based efforts to address the social and + primary determinants of health, strengthen the + local primary care workforce, and eliminate health + disparities; + ``(iv) develop measures to monitor the impact + of the proposed program on the health of practice + enrollees and of the wider community served; and + ``(v) participate in other activities, as + determined appropriate by the Secretary. + + ``(d) Federal Program Administration.-- + ``(1) Grants; types.--Grants awarded under subsection (b) + shall be-- + ``(A) program grants, that are awarded to State or + multistate entities that submit fully-developed plans + for the implementation of a Hub, for a period of 6 + years; or + ``(B) planning grants, that are awarded to State or + multistate entities with the goal of developing a plan + for a Hub, for a period of 2 years. + ``(2) Applications.--To be eligible for a grant under + subsection (b), a State or multistate entity shall submit to the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 652]] + + Secretary an application, at such time, in such manner, and + containing such information as the Secretary may require. + ``(3) <> Evaluation.--A State that + receives a grant under subsection (b) shall be evaluated at the + end of the grant period by an evaluation panel appointed by the + Secretary. + ``(4) Continuing support.--After the sixth year in which + assistance is provided to a State under a grant awarded under + subsection (b), the State may receive additional support under + this section if the State program has received satisfactory + evaluations with respect to program performance and the merits + of the State sustainability plan, as determined by the + Secretary. + ``(5) Limitation.--A State shall not use in excess of 10 + percent of the amount received under a grant to carry out + administrative activities under this section. Funds awarded + pursuant to this section shall not be used for funding direct + patient care. + + ``(e) Requirements on the Secretary. <> --In +carrying out this section, the Secretary shall consult with the heads of +other Federal agencies with demonstrated experience and expertise in +health care and preventive medicine, such as the Centers for Disease +Control and Prevention, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health +Administration, the Health Resources and Services Administration, the +National Institutes of Health, the Office of the National Coordinator +for Health Information Technology, the Indian Health Service, the +Agricultural Cooperative Extension Service of the Department of +Agriculture, and other entities, as the Secretary determines +appropriate. + + ``(f) Authorization of Appropriations.--To awards grants as provided +in subsection (d), there are authorized to be appropriated $120,000,000 +for each of fiscal years 2011 and 2012, and such sums as may be +necessary to carry out this section for each of fiscal years 2013 +through 2014.''. + + Subtitle F--Strengthening Primary Care and Other Workforce Improvements + +SEC. 5501. EXPANDING ACCESS TO PRIMARY CARE SERVICES AND GENERAL SURGERY + SERVICES. + + (a) Incentive Payment Program for Primary Care Services.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1833 of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395l) is amended by adding at the end the following new + subsection: + + ``(x) Incentive Payments for Primary Care Services.-- + ``(1) In general. <> --In the case of + primary care services furnished on or after January 1, 2011, and + before January 1, 2016, by a primary care practitioner, in + addition to the amount of payment that would otherwise be made + for such services under this part, there also shall be paid (on + a monthly or quarterly basis) an amount equal to 10 percent of + the payment amount for the service under this part. + ``(2) Definitions.--In this subsection: + ``(A) Primary care practitioner.--The term `primary + care practitioner' means an individual-- + ``(i) who-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 653]] + + ``(I) is a physician (as described + in section 1861(r)(1)) who has a primary + specialty designation of family + medicine, internal medicine, geriatric + medicine, or pediatric medicine; or + ``(II) is a nurse practitioner, + clinical nurse specialist, or physician + assistant (as those terms are defined in + section 1861(aa)(5)); and + ``(ii) for whom primary care services + accounted for at least 60 percent of the allowed + charges under this part for such physician or + practitioner in a prior period as determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(B) Primary care services.--The term `primary care + services' means services identified, as of January 1, + 2009, by the following HCPCS codes (and as subsequently + modified by the Secretary): + ``(i) 99201 through 99215. + ``(ii) 99304 through 99340. + ``(iii) 99341 through 99350. + ``(3) <> Coordination with other + payments.--The amount of the additional payment for a service + under this subsection and subsection (m) shall be determined + without regard to any additional payment for the service under + subsection (m) and this subsection, respectively. + ``(4) Limitation on review.--There shall be no + administrative or judicial review under section 1869, 1878, or + otherwise, respecting the identification of primary care + practitioners under this subsection.''. + (2) Conforming amendment.--Section 1834(g)(2)(B) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(g)(2)(B)) is amended by + adding at the end the following sentence: ``Section 1833(x) + shall not be taken into account in determining the amounts that + would otherwise be paid pursuant to the preceding sentence.''. + + (b) Incentive Payment Program for Major Surgical Procedures +Furnished in Health Professional Shortage Areas.-- + (1) In general. <> --Section 1833 of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l), as amended by subsection + (a)(1), is amended by adding at the end the following new + subsection: + + ``(y) Incentive Payments for Major Surgical Procedures Furnished in +Health Professional Shortage Areas.-- + ``(1) In general.--In the case of major surgical procedures + furnished on or after January 1, 2011, and before January 1, + 2016, by a general surgeon in an area that is designated (under + section 332(a)(1)(A) of the Public Health Service Act) as a + health professional shortage area as identified by the Secretary + prior to the beginning of the year involved, in addition to the + amount of payment that would otherwise be made for such services + under this part, there also shall be paid (on a monthly or + quarterly basis) an amount equal to 10 percent of the payment + amount for the service under this part. + ``(2) Definitions.--In this subsection: + ``(A) General surgeon.--In this subsection, the term + `general surgeon' means a physician (as described in + section 1861(r)(1)) who has designated CMS specialty + code 02-General Surgery as their primary specialty code + in the physician's enrollment under section 1866(j). + ``(B) Major surgical procedures.--The term `major + surgical procedures' means physicians' services which + are + +[[Page 124 STAT. 654]] + + surgical procedures for which a 10-day or 90-day global + period is used for payment under the fee schedule under + section 1848(b). + ``(3) Coordination with other payments.--The amount of the + additional payment for a service under this subsection and + subsection (m) shall be determined without regard to any + additional payment for the service under subsection (m) and this + subsection, respectively. + ``(4) Application.--The provisions of paragraph (2) and (4) + of subsection (m) shall apply to the determination of additional + payments under this subsection in the same manner as such + provisions apply to the determination of additional payments + under subsection (m).''. + (2) Conforming amendment.--Section 1834(g)(2)(B) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(g)(2)(B)), as amended by + subsection (a)(2), is amended by striking ``Section 1833(x)'' + and inserting ``Subsections (x) and (y) of section 1833'' in the + last sentence. + + (c) Budget-neutrality Adjustment.--Section 1848(c)(2)(B) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4(c)(2)(B)) is amended by adding at +the end the following new clause: + ``(vii) Adjustment for certain physician + incentive payments. <> -- + Fifty percent of the additional expenditures under + this part attributable to subsections (x) and (y) + of section 1833 for a year (as estimated by the + Secretary) shall be taken into account in applying + clause (ii)(II) for 2011 and subsequent years. In + lieu of applying the budget-neutrality adjustments + required under clause (ii)(II) to relative value + units to account for such costs for the year, the + Secretary shall apply such budget-neutrality + adjustments to the conversion factor otherwise + determined for the year. For 2011 and subsequent + years, the Secretary shall increase the incentive + payment otherwise applicable under section 1833(m) + by a percent estimated to be equal to the + additional expenditures estimated under the first + sentence of this clause for such year that is + applicable to physicians who primarily furnish + services in areas designated (under section + 332(a)(1)(A) of the Public Health Service Act) as + health professional shortage areas.''. + +SEC. 5502. MEDICARE FEDERALLY QUALIFIED HEALTH CENTER IMPROVEMENTS. + + (a) Expansion of Medicare-Covered Preventive Services at Federally +Qualified Health Centers.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1861(aa)(3)(A) of the Social + Security Act <> (42 U.S.C. 1395w + (aa)(3)(A)) is amended to read as follows: + ``(A) services of the type described subparagraphs + (A) through (C) of paragraph (1) and preventive services + (as defined in section 1861(ddd)(3)); and''. + (2) Effective date. <> --The amendment made by paragraph (1) shall apply to + services furnished on or after January 1, 2011. + + (b) Prospective Payment System for Federally Qualified Health +Centers.--Section 1834 of the Social Security Act (42 + +[[Page 124 STAT. 655]] + +U.S.C. 1395m) is amended by adding at the end the following new +subsection: + ``(n) Development and Implementation of Prospective Payment +System.-- + ``(1) Development.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall develop a + prospective payment system for payment for Federally + qualified health services furnished by Federally + qualified health centers under this title. Such system + shall include a process for appropriately describing the + services furnished by Federally qualified health + centers. + ``(B) Collection of data and evaluation.--The + Secretary shall require Federally qualified health + centers to submit to the Secretary such information as + the Secretary may require in order to develop and + implement the prospective payment system under this + paragraph and paragraph (2), respectively, including the + reporting of services using HCPCS codes. + ``(2) Implementation.-- + ``(A) In general. <> -- + Notwithstanding section 1833(a)(3)(B), the Secretary + shall provide, for cost reporting periods beginning on + or after October 1, 2014, for payments for Federally + qualified health services furnished by Federally + qualified health centers under this title in accordance + with the prospective payment system developed by the + Secretary under paragraph (1). + ``(B) Payments.-- + ``(i) Initial payments.--The Secretary shall + implement such prospective payment system so that + the estimated amount of expenditures under this + title for Federally qualified health services in + the first year that the prospective payment system + is implemented is equal to 103 percent of the + estimated amount of expenditures under this title + that would have occurred for such services in such + year if the system had not been implemented. + ``(ii) Payments in subsequent years.--In the + year after the first year of implementation of + such system, and in each subsequent year, the + payment rate for Federally qualified health + services furnished in the year shall be equal to + the payment rate established for such services + furnished in the preceding year under this + subparagraph increased by the percentage increase + in the MEI (as defined in 1842(i)(3)) for the year + involved.''. + +SEC. 5503. DISTRIBUTION OF ADDITIONAL RESIDENCY POSITIONS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1886(h) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395ww(h)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (4)(F)(i), by striking ``paragraph (7)'' + and inserting ``paragraphs (7) and (8)''; + (2) in paragraph (4)(H)(i), by striking ``paragraph (7)'' + and inserting ``paragraphs (7) and (8)''; + (3) in paragraph (7)(E), by inserting ``or paragraph (8)'' + before the period at the end; and + (4) by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(8) Distribution of additional residency positions.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 656]] + + ``(A) Reductions in limit based on unused + positions.-- + ``(i) <> In general.-- + Except as provided in clause (ii), if a hospital's + reference resident level (as defined in + subparagraph (H)(i)) is less than the otherwise + applicable resident limit (as defined in + subparagraph (H)(iii)), effective for portions of + cost reporting periods occurring on or after July + 1, 2011, the otherwise applicable resident limit + shall be reduced by 65 percent of the difference + between such otherwise applicable resident limit + and such reference resident level. + ``(ii) Exceptions.--This subparagraph shall + not apply to-- + ``(I) a hospital located in a rural + area (as defined in subsection + (d)(2)(D)(ii)) with fewer than 250 acute + care inpatient beds; + ``(II) <> a + hospital that was part of a qualifying + entity which had a voluntary residency + reduction plan approved under paragraph + (6)(B) or under the authority of section + 402 of Public Law 90-248, if the + hospital demonstrates to the Secretary + that it has a specified plan in place + for filling the unused positions by not + later than 2 years after the date of + enactment of this paragraph; or + ``(III) a hospital described in + paragraph (4)(H)(v). + ``(B) Distribution.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall + increase the otherwise applicable resident limit + for each qualifying hospital that submits an + application under this subparagraph by such number + as the Secretary may approve for portions of cost + reporting periods occurring on or after July 1, + 2011. The aggregate number of increases in the + otherwise applicable resident limit under this + subparagraph shall be equal to the aggregate + reduction in such limits attributable to + subparagraph (A) (as estimated by the Secretary). + ``(ii) Requirements.--Subject to clause (iii), + a hospital that receives an increase in the + otherwise applicable resident limit under this + subparagraph shall ensure, during the 5-year + period beginning on the date of such increase, + that-- + ``(I) the number of full-time + equivalent primary care residents, as + defined in paragraph (5)(H) (as + determined by the Secretary), excluding + any additional positions under subclause + (II), is not less than the average + number of full-time equivalent primary + care residents (as so determined) during + the 3 most recent cost reporting periods + ending prior to the date of enactment of + this paragraph; and + ``(II) not less than 75 percent of + the positions attributable to such + increase are in a primary care or + general surgery residency (as determined + by the Secretary). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 657]] + + The Secretary may determine whether a hospital has + met the requirements under this clause during such + 5-year period in such manner and at such time as + the Secretary determines appropriate, including at + the end of such 5-year period. + ``(iii) Redistribution of positions if + hospital no longer meets certain requirements.--In + the case where the Secretary determines that a + hospital described in clause (ii) does not meet + either of the requirements under subclause (I) or + (II) of such clause, the Secretary shall-- + ``(I) reduce the otherwise + applicable resident limit of the + hospital by the amount by which such + limit was increased under this + paragraph; and + ``(II) provide for the distribution + of positions attributable to such + reduction in accordance with the + requirements of this paragraph. + ``(C) Considerations in redistribution.--In + determining for which hospitals the increase in the + otherwise applicable resident limit is provided under + subparagraph (B), the Secretary shall take into + account-- + ``(i) <> the + demonstration likelihood of the hospital filling + the positions made available under this paragraph + within the first 3 cost reporting periods + beginning on or after July 1, 2011, as determined + by the Secretary; and + ``(ii) whether the hospital has an accredited + rural training track (as described in paragraph + (4)(H)(iv)). + ``(D) Priority for certain areas.--In determining + for which hospitals the increase in the otherwise + applicable resident limit is provided under subparagraph + (B), subject to subparagraph (E), the Secretary shall + distribute the increase to hospitals based on the + following factors: + ``(i) Whether the hospital is located in a + State with a resident-to-population ratio in the + lowest quartile (as determined by the Secretary). + ``(ii) Whether the hospital is located in a + State, a territory of the United States, or the + District of Columbia that is among the top 10 + States, territories, or Districts in terms of the + ratio of-- + ``(I) the total population of the + State, territory, or District living in + an area designated (under such section + 332(a)(1)(A)) as a health professional + shortage area (as of the date of + enactment of this paragraph); to + ``(II) the total population of the + State, territory, or District (as + determined by the Secretary based on the + most recent available population data + published by the Bureau of the Census). + ``(iii) Whether the hospital is located in a + rural area (as defined in subsection + (d)(2)(D)(ii)). + ``(E) Reservation of positions for certain + hospitals.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), the + Secretary shall reserve the positions available + for distribution under this paragraph as follows: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 658]] + + ``(I) 70 percent of such positions + for distribution to hospitals described + in clause (i) of subparagraph (D). + ``(II) 30 percent of such positions + for distribution to hospitals described + in clause (ii) and (iii) of such + subparagraph. + ``(ii) Exception if positions not + redistributed by july 1, + 2011. <> --In the case where the + Secretary does not distribute positions to + hospitals in accordance with clause (i) by July 1, + 2011, the Secretary shall distribute such + positions to other hospitals in accordance with + the considerations described in subparagraph (C) + and the priority described in subparagraph (D). + ``(F) Limitation.--A hospital may not receive more + than 75 full-time equivalent additional residency + positions under this paragraph. + ``(G) Application of per resident amounts for + primary care and nonprimary care.--With respect to + additional residency positions in a hospital + attributable to the increase provided under this + paragraph, the approved FTE per resident amounts are + deemed to be equal to the hospital per resident amounts + for primary care and nonprimary care computed under + paragraph (2)(D) for that hospital. + ``(H) Definitions.--In this paragraph: + ``(i) Reference resident level.--The term + `reference resident level' means, with respect to + a hospital, the highest resident level for any of + the 3 most recent cost reporting periods (ending + before the date of the enactment of this + paragraph) of the hospital for which a cost report + has been settled (or, if not, submitted (subject + to audit)), as determined by the Secretary. + ``(ii) Resident level.--The term `resident + level' has the meaning given such term in + paragraph (7)(C)(i). + ``(iii) Otherwise applicable resident limit.-- + The term `otherwise applicable resident limit' + means, with respect to a hospital, the limit + otherwise applicable under subparagraphs (F)(i) + and (H) of paragraph (4) on the resident level for + the hospital determined without regard to this + paragraph but taking into account paragraph + (7)(A).''. + + (b) IME.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1886(d)(5)(B)(v) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(5)(B)(v)), in the second + sentence, is amended-- + (A) by striking ``subsection (h)(7)'' and inserting + ``subsections (h)(7) and (h)(8)''; and + (B) by striking ``it applies'' and inserting ``they + apply''. + (2) Conforming amendment.--Section 1886(d)(5)(B) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(5)(B)) is amended by + adding at the end the following clause: + ``(x) <> For discharges occurring on + or after July 1, 2011, insofar as an additional payment amount + under this subparagraph is attributable to resident positions + distributed to a hospital under subsection (h)(8)(B), the + indirect teaching adjustment factor shall be computed in the + same manner as provided under clause (ii) with respect to such + resident positions.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 659]] + + (c) Conforming Amendment.--Section 422(b)(2) of the Medicare +Prescription Drug, Improvement, and Modernization Act of 2003 (Public +Law 108-173) <> is amended by striking +``section 1886(h)(7)'' and all that follows and inserting ``paragraphs +(7) and (8) of subsection (h) of section 1886 of the Social Security +Act''. + +SEC. 5504. <> COUNTING RESIDENT TIME IN + NONPROVIDER SETTINGS. + + (a) GME.--Section 1886(h)(4)(E) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395ww(h)(4)(E)) is amended-- + (1) by striking ``shall be counted and that all the time'' + and inserting ``shall be counted and that-- + ``(i) effective for cost reporting periods + beginning before July 1, 2010, all the time;''; + (2) in clause (i), as inserted by paragraph (1), by striking + the period at the end and inserting ``; and''; + (3) by inserting after clause (i), as so inserted, the + following new clause: + ``(ii) effective for cost reporting periods + beginning on or after July 1, 2010, all the time + so spent by a resident shall be counted towards + the determination of full-time equivalency, + without regard to the setting in which the + activities are performed, if a hospital incurs the + costs of the stipends and fringe benefits of the + resident during the time the resident spends in + that setting. If more than one hospital incurs + these costs, either directly or through a third + party, such hospitals shall count a proportional + share of the time, as determined by written + agreement between the hospitals, that a resident + spends training in that setting.''; and + (4) <> by adding at the end the following + flush sentence: + ``Any hospital claiming under this subparagraph for time + spent in a nonprovider setting shall maintain and make + available to the Secretary records regarding the amount + of such time and such amount in comparison with amounts + of such time in such base year as the Secretary shall + specify.''. + + (b) IME.--Section 1886(d)(5)(B)(iv) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(5)) is amended-- + (1) by striking ``(iv) Effective for discharges occurring on + or after October 1, 1997'' and inserting <> ``(iv)(I) Effective for discharges occurring on or + after October 1, 1997, and before July 1, 2010''; and + (2) by inserting after clause (I), as inserted by paragraph + (1), the following new subparagraph: + ``(II) Effective for discharges occurring on or after July + 1, 2010, all the time spent by an intern or resident in patient + care activities in a nonprovider setting shall be counted + towards the determination of full-time equivalency if a hospital + incurs the costs of the stipends and fringe benefits of the + intern or resident during the time the intern or resident spends + in that setting. If more than one hospital incurs these costs, + either directly or through a third party, such hospitals shall + count a proportional share of the time, as determined by written + agreement between the hospitals, that a resident spends training + in that setting.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 660]] + + (c) Application. <> --The amendments made +by this section shall not be applied in a manner that requires reopening +of any settled hospital cost reports as to which there is not a +jurisdictionally proper appeal pending as of the date of the enactment +of this Act on the issue of payment for indirect costs of medical +education under section 1886(d)(5)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(5)(B)) or for direct graduate medical education costs +under section 1886(h) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(h)). + +SEC. 5505. RULES FOR COUNTING RESIDENT TIME FOR DIDACTIC AND SCHOLARLY + ACTIVITIES AND OTHER ACTIVITIES. + + (a) GME.--Section 1886(h) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395ww(h)), as amended by section 5504, is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (4)-- + (A) in subparagraph (E), by striking ``Such rules'' + and inserting ``Subject to subparagraphs (J) and (K), + such rules''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraphs: + ``(J) Treatment of certain nonprovider and didactic + activities.--Such rules shall provide that all time + spent by an intern or resident in an approved medical + residency training program in a nonprovider setting that + is primarily engaged in furnishing patient care (as + defined in paragraph (5)(K)) in non-patient care + activities, such as didactic conferences and seminars, + but not including research not associated with the + treatment or diagnosis of a particular patient, as such + time and activities are defined by the Secretary, shall + be counted toward the determination of full-time + equivalency. + ``(K) <> Treatment of certain + other activities.--In determining the hospital's number + of full-time equivalent residents for purposes of this + subsection, all the time that is spent by an intern or + resident in an approved medical residency training + program on vacation, sick leave, or other approved + leave, as such time is defined by the Secretary, and + that does not prolong the total time the resident is + participating in the approved program beyond the normal + duration of the program shall be counted toward the + determination of full-time equivalency.''; and + (2) in paragraph (5), by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(K) Nonprovider setting that is primarily engaged + in furnishing patient care.--The term `nonprovider + setting that is primarily engaged in furnishing patient + care' means a nonprovider setting in which the primary + activity is the care and treatment of patients, as + defined by the Secretary.''. + + (b) IME Determinations.--Section 1886(d)(5)(B) of such Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(5)(B)) is amended by adding at the end the following +new clause: + ``(x)(I) <> The + provisions of subparagraph (K) of subsection + (h)(4) shall apply under this subparagraph in the + same manner as they apply under such subsection. + ``(II) In determining the hospital's number of + full-time equivalent residents for purposes of + this subparagraph, all the time spent by an intern + or resident + +[[Page 124 STAT. 661]] + + in an approved medical residency training program + in non-patient care activities, such as didactic + conferences and seminars, as such time and + activities are defined by the Secretary, that + occurs in the hospital shall be counted toward the + determination of full-time equivalency if the + hospital-- + ``(aa) is recognized as a subsection + (d) hospital; + ``(bb) is recognized as a subsection + (d) Puerto Rico hospital; + ``(cc) is reimbursed under a + reimbursement system authorized under + section 1814(b)(3); or + ``(dd) is a provider-based hospital + outpatient department. + ``(III) In determining the hospital's number + of full-time equivalent residents for purposes of + this subparagraph, all the time spent by an intern + or resident in an approved medical residency + training program in research activities that are + not associated with the treatment or diagnosis of + a particular patient, as such time and activities + are defined by the Secretary, shall not be counted + toward the determination of full-time + equivalency.''. + + (c) <> Effective Dates.-- + (1) In general.--Except as otherwise provided, the Secretary + of Health and Human Services shall implement the amendments made + by this section in a manner so as to apply to cost reporting + periods beginning on or after January 1, 1983. + (2) GME.--Section 1886(h)(4)(J) of the Social Security Act, + as added by subsection (a)(1)(B), shall apply to cost reporting + periods beginning on or after July 1, 2009. + (3) IME.--Section 1886(d)(5)(B)(x)(III) of the Social + Security Act, as added by subsection (b), shall apply to cost + reporting periods beginning on or after October 1, 2001. Such + section, as so added, shall not give rise to any inference as to + how the law in effect prior to such date should be interpreted. + +SEC. 5506. PRESERVATION OF RESIDENT CAP POSITIONS FROM CLOSED HOSPITALS. + + (a) GME.--Section 1886(h)(4)(H) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. Section 1395ww(h)(4)(H)) is amended by adding at the end the +following new clause: + ``(vi) Redistribution of residency slots after + a hospital closes.-- + ``(I) <> In + general.--Subject to the succeeding + provisions of this clause, the Secretary + shall, by regulation, establish a + process under which, in the case where a + hospital (other than a hospital + described in clause (v)) with an + approved medical residency program + closes on or after a date that is 2 + years before the date of enactment of + this clause, the Secretary shall + increase the otherwise applicable + resident limit under this paragraph for + other hospitals in accordance with this + clause. + ``(II) Priority for hospitals in + certain areas.--Subject to the + succeeding provisions of this clause, in + determining for which hospitals the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 662]] + + increase in the otherwise applicable + resident limit is provided under such + process, the Secretary shall distribute + the increase to hospitals in the + following priority order (with + preference given within each category to + hospitals that are members of the same + affiliated group (as defined by the + Secretary under clause (ii)) as the + closed hospital): + ``(aa) First, to hospitals + located in the same core-based + statistical area as, or a core- + based statistical area + contiguous to, the hospital that + closed. + ``(bb) Second, to hospitals + located in the same State as the + hospital that closed. + ``(cc) Third, to hospitals + located in the same region of + the country as the hospital that + closed. + ``(dd) Fourth, only if the + Secretary is not able to + distribute the increase to + hospitals described in item + (cc), to qualifying hospitals in + accordance with the provisions + of paragraph (8). + ``(III) Requirement hospital likely + to fill position within certain time + period. <> --The + Secretary may only increase the + otherwise applicable resident limit of a + hospital under such process if the + Secretary determines the hospital has + demonstrated a likelihood of filling the + positions made available under this + clause within 3 years. + ``(IV) Limitation.--The aggregate + number of increases in the otherwise + applicable resident limits for hospitals + under this clause shall be equal to the + number of resident positions in the + approved medical residency programs that + closed on or after the date described in + subclause (I). + ``(V) Administration.--Chapter 35 of + title 44, United States Code, shall not + apply to the implementation of this + clause.''. + + (b) IME.--Section 1886(d)(5)(B)(v) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(5)(B)(v)), in the second sentence, as amended by +section 5503, is amended by striking ``subsections (h)(7) and (h)(8)'' +and inserting ``subsections (h)(4)(H)(vi), (h)(7), and (h)(8)''. + (c) <> Application.--The amendments made +by this section shall not be applied in a manner that requires reopening +of any settled hospital cost reports as to which there is not a +jurisdictionally proper appeal pending as of the date of the enactment +of this Act on the issue of payment for indirect costs of medical +education under section 1886(d)(5)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(5)(B)) or for direct graduate medical education costs +under section 1886(h) of such Act (42 U.S.C. Section 1395ww(h)). + + (d) <> Effect on Temporary FTE Cap +Adjustments.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services shall give +consideration to the effect of the amendments made by this section on +any temporary adjustment to a hospital's FTE cap under section 413.79(h) +of title 42, Code of Federal Regulations (as in effect on the date of +enactment of this Act) in order to ensure that there is no duplication +of FTE slots. Such amendments shall not affect the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 663]] + +application of section 1886(h)(4)(H)(v) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395ww(h)(4)(H)(v)). + + (e) Conforming Amendment.--Section 1886(h)(7)(E) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(h)(7)(E)), as amended by section 5503(a), +is amended by striking ``paragraph or paragraph (8)'' and inserting +``this paragraph, paragraph (8), or paragraph (4)(H)(vi)''. + +SEC. 5507. DEMONSTRATION PROJECTS TO ADDRESS HEALTH PROFESSIONS + WORKFORCE NEEDS; EXTENSION OF FAMILY-TO-FAMILY HEALTH + INFORMATION CENTERS. + + (a) Authority To Conduct Demonstration Projects.--Title XX of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397 et seq.) is amended by adding at the +end the following: + +``SEC. 2008. <> DEMONSTRATION PROJECTS TO ADDRESS + HEALTH PROFESSIONS WORKFORCE NEEDS. + + ``(a) Demonstration Projects To Provide Low-Income Individuals With +Opportunities for Education, Training, and Career Advancement To Address +Health Professions Workforce Needs.-- + ``(1) Authority to award grants.--The Secretary, in + consultation with the Secretary of Labor, shall award grants to + eligible entities to conduct demonstration projects that are + designed to provide eligible individuals with the opportunity to + obtain education and training for occupations in the health care + field that pay well and are expected to either experience labor + shortages or be in high demand. + ``(2) Requirements.-- + ``(A) Aid and supportive services.-- + ``(i) In general.--A demonstration project + conducted by an eligible entity awarded a grant + under this section shall, if appropriate, provide + eligible individuals participating in the project + with financial aid, child care, case management, + and other supportive services. + ``(ii) Treatment.--Any aid, services, or + incentives provided to an eligible beneficiary + participating in a demonstration project under + this section shall not be considered income, and + shall not be taken into account for purposes of + determining the individual's eligibility for, or + amount of, benefits under any means-tested + program. + ``(B) Consultation and coordination.--An eligible + entity applying for a grant to carry out a demonstration + project under this section shall demonstrate in the + application that the entity has consulted with the State + agency responsible for administering the State TANF + program, the local workforce investment board in the + area in which the project is to be conducted (unless the + applicant is such board), the State workforce investment + board established under section 111 of the Workforce + Investment Act of 1998, and the State Apprenticeship + Agency recognized under the Act of August 16, 1937 + (commonly known as the `National Apprenticeship Act') + (or if no agency has been recognized in the State, the + Office of Apprenticeship of the Department of Labor) and + that the project will be carried out in coordination + with such entities. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 664]] + + ``(C) Assurance of opportunities for indian + populations. <> --The Secretary shall + award at least 3 grants under this subsection to an + eligible entity that is an Indian tribe, tribal + organization, or Tribal College or University. + ``(3) Reports and evaluation.-- + ``(A) Eligible entities.--An eligible entity awarded + a grant to conduct a demonstration project under this + subsection shall submit interim reports to the Secretary + on the activities carried out under the project and a + final report on such activities upon the conclusion of + the entities' participation in the project. Such reports + shall include assessments of the effectiveness of such + activities with respect to improving outcomes for the + eligible individuals participating in the project and + with respect to addressing health professions workforce + needs in the areas in which the project is conducted. + ``(B) <> Evaluation.--The + Secretary shall, by grant, contract, or interagency + agreement, evaluate the demonstration projects conducted + under this subsection. Such evaluation shall include + identification of successful activities for creating + opportunities for developing and sustaining, + particularly with respect to low-income individuals and + other entry-level workers, a health professions + workforce that has accessible entry points, that meets + high standards for education, training, certification, + and professional development, and that provides + increased wages and affordable benefits, including + health care coverage, that are responsive to the + workforce's needs. + ``(C) Report to congress.--The Secretary shall + submit interim reports and, based on the evaluation + conducted under subparagraph (B), a final report to + Congress on the demonstration projects conducted under + this subsection. + ``(4) Definitions.--In this subsection: + ``(A) Eligible entity.--The term `eligible entity' + means a State, an Indian tribe or tribal organization, + an institution of higher education, a local workforce + investment board established under section 117 of the + Workforce Investment Act of 1998, a sponsor of an + apprenticeship program registered under the National + Apprenticeship Act or a community-based organization. + ``(B) Eligible individual.-- + ``(i) In general.--The term `eligible + individual' means a individual receiving + assistance under the State TANF program. + ``(ii) Other low-income individuals.--Such + term may include other low-income individuals + described by the eligible entity in its + application for a grant under this section. + ``(C) Indian tribe; tribal organization.--The terms + `Indian tribe' and `tribal organization' have the + meaning given such terms in section 4 of the Indian + Self-Determination and Education Assistance Act (25 + U.S.C. 450b). + ``(D) Institution of higher education.--The term + `institution of higher education' has the meaning given + that term in section 101 of the Higher Education Act of + 1965 (20 U.S.C. 1001). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 665]] + + ``(E) State.--The term `State' means each of the 50 + States, the District of Columbia, the Commonwealth of + Puerto Rico, the United States Virgin Islands, Guam, and + American Samoa. + ``(F) State tanf program.--The term `State TANF + program' means the temporary assistance for needy + families program funded under part A of title IV. + ``(G) Tribal college or university.--The term + `Tribal College or University' has the meaning given + that term in section 316(b) of the Higher Education Act + of 1965 (20 U.S.C. 1059c(b)). + + ``(b) Demonstration Project To Develop Training and Certification +Programs for Personal or Home Care Aides.-- + ``(1) Authority to award grants. <> --Not + later than 18 months after the date of enactment of this + section, the Secretary shall award grants to eligible entities + that are States to conduct demonstration projects for purposes + of developing core training competencies and certification + programs for personal or home care aides. The Secretary shall-- + ``(A) <> evaluate the efficacy of + the core training competencies described in paragraph + (3)(A) for newly hired personal or home care aides and + the methods used by States to implement such core + training competencies in accordance with the issues + specified in paragraph (3)(B); and + ``(B) ensure that the number of hours of training + provided by States under the demonstration project with + respect to such core training competencies are not less + than the number of hours of training required under any + applicable State or Federal law or regulation. + ``(2) Duration.--A demonstration project shall be conducted + under this subsection for not less than 3 years. + ``(3) Core training competencies for personal or home care + aides.-- + ``(A) In general.--The core training competencies + for personal or home care aides described in this + subparagraph include competencies with respect to the + following areas: + ``(i) The role of the personal or home care + aide (including differences between a personal or + home care aide employed by an agency and a + personal or home care aide employed directly by + the health care consumer or an independent + provider). + ``(ii) Consumer rights, ethics, and + confidentiality (including the role of proxy + decision-makers in the case where a health care + consumer has impaired decision-making capacity). + ``(iii) Communication, cultural and linguistic + competence and sensitivity, problem solving, + behavior management, and relationship skills. + ``(iv) Personal care skills. + ``(v) Health care support. + ``(vi) Nutritional support. + ``(vii) Infection control. + ``(viii) Safety and emergency training. + ``(ix) Training specific to an individual + consumer's needs (including older individuals, + younger individuals with disabilities, individuals + with developmental + +[[Page 124 STAT. 666]] + + disabilities, individuals with dementia, and + individuals with mental and behavioral health + needs). + ``(x) Self-Care. + ``(B) Implementation.--The implementation issues + specified in this subparagraph include the following: + ``(i) The length of the training. + ``(ii) The appropriate trainer to student + ratio. + ``(iii) The amount of instruction time spent + in the classroom as compared to on-site in the + home or a facility. + ``(iv) Trainer qualifications. + ``(v) Content for a `hands-on' and written + certification exam. + ``(vi) Continuing education requirements. + ``(4) Application and selection criteria.-- + ``(A) In general.-- + ``(i) Number of + states. <> --The Secretary shall + enter into agreements with not more than 6 States + to conduct demonstration projects under this + subsection. + ``(ii) Requirements for states.--An agreement + entered into under clause (i) shall require that a + participating State-- + ``(I) implement the core training + competencies described in paragraph + (3)(A); and + ``(II) develop written materials and + protocols for such core training + competencies, including the development + of a certification test for personal or + home care aides who have completed such + training competencies. + ``(iii) Consultation and collaboration with + community and vocational colleges.--The Secretary + shall encourage participating States to consult + with community and vocational colleges regarding + the development of curricula to implement the + project with respect to activities, as applicable, + which may include consideration of such colleges + as partners in such implementation. + ``(B) Application and eligibility.--A State seeking + to participate in the project shall-- + ``(i) submit an application to the Secretary + containing such information and at such time as + the Secretary may specify; + ``(ii) meet the selection criteria established + under subparagraph (C); and + ``(iii) meet such additional criteria as the + Secretary may specify. + ``(C) Selection criteria.--In selecting States to + participate in the program, the Secretary shall + establish criteria to ensure (if applicable with respect + to the activities involved)-- + ``(i) geographic and demographic diversity; + ``(ii) that participating States offer medical + assistance for personal care services under the + State Medicaid plan; + ``(iii) that the existing training standards + for personal or home care aides in each + participating State-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 667]] + + ``(I) are different from such + standards in the other participating + States; and + ``(II) are different from the core + training competencies described in + paragraph (3)(A); + ``(iv) that participating States do not reduce + the number of hours of training required under + applicable State law or regulation after being + selected to participate in the project; and + ``(v) that participating States recruit a + minimum number of eligible health and long-term + care providers to participate in the project. + ``(D) Technical assistance.--The Secretary shall + provide technical assistance to States in developing + written materials and protocols for such core training + competencies. + ``(5) Evaluation and report.-- + ``(A) <> Evaluation.--The + Secretary shall develop an experimental or control group + testing protocol in consultation with an independent + evaluation contractor selected by the Secretary. Such + contractor shall evaluate-- + ``(i) the impact of core training competencies + described in paragraph (3)(A), including curricula + developed to implement such core training + competencies, for personal or home care aides + within each participating State on job + satisfaction, mastery of job skills, beneficiary + and family caregiver satisfaction with services, + and additional measures determined by the + Secretary in consultation with the expert panel; + ``(ii) the impact of providing such core + training competencies on the existing training + infrastructure and resources of States; and + ``(iii) whether a minimum number of hours of + initial training should be required for personal + or home care aides and, if so, what minimum number + of hours should be required. + ``(B) Reports.-- + ``(i) Report on initial implementation.--Not + later than 2 years after the date of enactment of + this section, the Secretary shall submit to + Congress a report on the initial implementation of + activities conducted under the demonstration + project, including any available results of the + evaluation conducted under subparagraph (A) with + respect to such activities, together with such + recommendations for legislation or administrative + action as the Secretary determines appropriate. + ``(ii) Final report.--Not later than 1 year + after the completion of the demonstration project, + the Secretary shall submit to Congress a report + containing the results of the evaluation conducted + under subparagraph (A), together with such + recommendations for legislation or administrative + action as the Secretary determines appropriate. + ``(6) Definitions.--In this subsection: + ``(A) Eligible health and long-term care provider.-- + The term `eligible health and long-term care provider' + means a personal or home care agency (including personal + or home care public authorities), a nursing home, a home + health agency (as defined in section 1861(o)), or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 668]] + + any other health care provider the Secretary determines + appropriate which-- + ``(i) is licensed or authorized to provide + services in a participating State; and + ``(ii) receives payment for services under + title XIX. + ``(B) Personal care services.--The term `personal + care services' has the meaning given such term for + purposes of title XIX. + ``(C) Personal or home care aide.--The term + `personal or home care aide' means an individual who + helps individuals who are elderly, disabled, ill, or + mentally disabled (including an individual with + Alzheimer's disease or other dementia) to live in their + own home or a residential care facility (such as a + nursing home, assisted living facility, or any other + facility the Secretary determines appropriate) by + providing routine personal care services and other + appropriate services to the individual. + ``(D) State.--The term `State' has the meaning given + that term for purposes of title XIX. + + ``(c) Funding.-- + ``(1) In general.--Subject to paragraph (2), out of any + funds in the Treasury not otherwise appropriated, there are + appropriated to the Secretary to carry out subsections (a) and + (b), $85,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014. + ``(2) Training and certification programs for personal and + home care aides.--With respect to the demonstration projects + under subsection (b), the Secretary shall use $5,000,000 of the + amount appropriated under paragraph (1) for each of fiscal years + 2010 through 2012 to carry out such projects. No funds + appropriated under paragraph (1) shall be used to carry out + demonstration projects under subsection (b) after fiscal year + 2012. + + ``(d) Nonapplication.-- + ``(1) In general.--Except as provided in paragraph (2), the + preceding sections of this title shall not apply to grant + awarded under this section. + ``(2) Limitations on use of + grants. <> --Section 2005(a) (other than + paragraph (6)) shall apply to a grant awarded under this section + to the same extent and in the same manner as such section + applies to payments to States under this title.''. + + (b) Extension of Family-To-Family Health Information Centers.-- +Section 501(c)(1)(A)(iii) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +701(c)(1)(A)(iii)) is amended by striking ``fiscal year 2009'' and +inserting ``each of fiscal years 2009 through 2012''. + +SEC. 5508. INCREASING TEACHING CAPACITY. + + (a) Teaching Health Centers Training and Enhancement.--Part C of +title VII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 293k et. seq.), as +amended by section 5303, is further amended by inserting after section +749 the following: + +``SEC. 749A. <> TEACHING HEALTH CENTERS + DEVELOPMENT GRANTS. + + ``(a) Program Authorized.--The Secretary may award grants under this +section to teaching health centers for the purpose of establishing new +accredited or expanded primary care residency programs. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 669]] + + ``(b) Amount and Duration.--Grants awarded under this section shall +be for a term of not more than 3 years and the maximum award may not be +more than $500,000. + ``(c) Use of Funds.--Amounts provided under a grant under this +section shall be used to cover the costs of-- + ``(1) establishing or expanding a primary care residency + training program described in subsection (a), including costs + associated with-- + ``(A) curriculum development; + ``(B) recruitment, training and retention of + residents and faculty: + ``(C) accreditation by the Accreditation Council for + Graduate Medical Education (ACGME), the American Dental + Association (ADA), or the American Osteopathic + Association (AOA); and + ``(D) faculty salaries during the development phase; + and + ``(2) technical assistance provided by an eligible entity. + + ``(d) Application.--A teaching health center seeking a grant under +this section shall submit an application to the Secretary at such time, +in such manner, and containing such information as the Secretary may +require. + ``(e) Preference for Certain Applications.--In selecting recipients +for grants under this section, the Secretary shall give preference to +any such application that documents an existing affiliation agreement +with an area health education center program as defined in sections 751 +and 799B. + ``(f) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Eligible entity.--The term `eligible entity' means an + organization capable of providing technical assistance including + an area health education center program as defined in sections + 751 and 799B. + ``(2) Primary care residency program.--The term `primary + care residency program' means an approved graduate medical + residency training program (as defined in section 340H) in + family medicine, internal medicine, pediatrics, internal + medicine-pediatrics, obstetrics and gynecology, psychiatry, + general dentistry, pediatric dentistry, and geriatrics. + ``(3) Teaching health center.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `teaching health center' + means an entity that-- + ``(i) is a community based, ambulatory patient + care center; and + ``(ii) operates a primary care residency + program. + ``(B) Inclusion of certain entities.--Such term + includes the following: + ``(i) A Federally qualified health center (as + defined in section 1905(l)(2)(B), of the Social + Security Act). + ``(ii) A community mental health center (as + defined in section 1861(ff)(3)(B) of the Social + Security Act). + ``(iii) A rural health clinic, as defined in + section 1861(aa) of the Social Security Act. + ``(iv) A health center operated by the Indian + Health Service, an Indian tribe or tribal + organization, or an urban Indian organization (as + defined in section 4 of the Indian Health Care + Improvement Act). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 670]] + + ``(v) An entity receiving funds under title X + of the Public Health Service Act. + + ``(g) Authorization of Appropriations.--There is authorized to be +appropriated, $25,000,000 for fiscal year 2010, $50,000,000 for fiscal +year 2011, $50,000,000 for fiscal year 2012, and such sums as may be +necessary for each fiscal year thereafter to carry out this section. Not +to exceed $5,000,000 annually may be used for technical assistance +program grants.''. + (b) National Health Service Corps Teaching Capacity.--Section +338C(a) of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 254m(a)) is amended +to read as follows: + ``(a) <> Service in Full-time Clinical Practice.-- +Except as provided in section 338D, each individual who has entered into +a written contract with the Secretary under section 338A or 338B shall +provide service in the full-time clinical practice of such individual's +profession as a member of the Corps for the period of obligated service +provided in such contract. For the purpose of calculating time spent in +full-time clinical practice under this subsection, up to 50 percent of +time spent teaching by a member of the Corps may be counted toward his +or her service obligation.''. + + (c) Payments to Qualified Teaching Health Centers.--Part D of title +III of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 254b et seq.) is amended +by adding at the end the following: + + ``Subpart XI--Support of Graduate Medical Education in Qualified + Teaching Health Centers + +``SEC. 340H. <> PROGRAM OF PAYMENTS TO TEACHING + HEALTH CENTERS THAT OPERATE GRADUATE MEDICAL EDUCATION + PROGRAMS. + + ``(a) Payments.--Subject to subsection (h)(2), the Secretary shall +make payments under this section for direct expenses and for indirect +expenses to qualified teaching health centers that are listed as +sponsoring institutions by the relevant accrediting body for expansion +of existing or establishment of new approved graduate medical residency +training programs. + ``(b) Amount of Payments.-- + ``(1) In general.--Subject to paragraph (2), the amounts + payable under this section to qualified teaching health centers + for an approved graduate medical residency training program for + a fiscal year are each of the following amounts: + ``(A) Direct expense amount.--The amount determined + under subsection (c) for direct expenses associated with + sponsoring approved graduate medical residency training + programs. + ``(B) Indirect expense amount.--The amount + determined under subsection (d) for indirect expenses + associated with the additional costs relating to + teaching residents in such programs. + ``(2) Capped amount.-- + ``(A) In general.--The total of the payments made to + qualified teaching health centers under paragraph (1)(A) + or paragraph (1)(B) in a fiscal year shall not exceed + the amount of funds appropriated under subsection (g) + for such payments for that fiscal year. + ``(B) Limitation.--The Secretary shall limit the + funding of full-time equivalent residents in order to + ensure + +[[Page 124 STAT. 671]] + + the direct and indirect payments as determined under + subsection (c) and (d) do not exceed the total amount of + funds appropriated in a fiscal year under subsection + (g). + + ``(c) Amount of Payment for Direct Graduate Medical Education.-- + ``(1) In general.--The amount determined under this + subsection for payments to qualified teaching health centers for + direct graduate expenses relating to approved graduate medical + residency training programs for a fiscal year is equal to the + product of-- + ``(A) the updated national per resident amount for + direct graduate medical education, as determined under + paragraph (2); and + ``(B) the average number of full-time equivalent + residents in the teaching health center's graduate + approved medical residency training programs as + determined under section 1886(h)(4) of the Social + Security Act (without regard to the limitation under + subparagraph (F) of such section) during the fiscal + year. + ``(2) Updated national per resident amount for direct + graduate medical education.--The updated per resident amount for + direct graduate medical education for a qualified teaching + health center for a fiscal year is an amount determined as + follows: + ``(A) Determination of qualified teaching health + center per resident amount.--The Secretary shall compute + for each individual qualified teaching health center a + per resident amount-- + ``(i) by dividing the national average per + resident amount computed under section + 340E(c)(2)(D) into a wage-related portion and a + non-wage related portion by applying the + proportion determined under subparagraph (B); + ``(ii) by multiplying the wage-related portion + by the factor applied under section 1886(d)(3)(E) + of the Social Security Act (but without + application of section 4410 of the Balanced Budget + Act of 1997 (42 U.S.C. 1395ww note)) during the + preceding fiscal year for the teaching health + center's area; and + ``(iii) by adding the non-wage-related portion + to the amount computed under clause (ii). + ``(B) Updating rate.--The Secretary shall update + such per resident amount for each such qualified + teaching health center as determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + + ``(d) Amount of Payment for Indirect Medical Education.-- + ``(1) <> In general.--The amount + determined under this subsection for payments to qualified + teaching health centers for indirect expenses associated with + the additional costs of teaching residents for a fiscal year is + equal to an amount determined appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(2) Factors.--In determining the amount under paragraph + (1), the Secretary shall-- + ``(A) evaluate indirect training costs relative to + supporting a primary care residency program in qualified + teaching health centers; and + ``(B) based on this evaluation, assure that the + aggregate of the payments for indirect expenses under + this section + +[[Page 124 STAT. 672]] + + and the payments for direct graduate medical education + as determined under subsection (c) in a fiscal year do + not exceed the amount appropriated for such expenses as + determined in subsection (g). + ``(3) Interim payment.--Before the Secretary makes a payment + under this subsection pursuant to a determination of indirect + expenses under paragraph (1), the Secretary may provide to + qualified teaching health centers a payment, in addition to any + payment made under subsection (c), for expected indirect + expenses associated with the additional costs of teaching + residents for a fiscal year, based on an estimate by the + Secretary. + + ``(e) Clarification Regarding Relationship to Other Payments for +Graduate Medical Education.--Payments under this section-- + ``(1) shall be in addition to any payments-- + ``(A) for the indirect costs of medical education + under section 1886(d)(5)(B) of the Social Security Act; + ``(B) for direct graduate medical education costs + under section 1886(h) of such Act; and + ``(C) for direct costs of medical education under + section 1886(k) of such Act; + ``(2) shall not be taken into account in applying the + limitation on the number of total full-time equivalent residents + under subparagraphs (F) and (G) of section 1886(h)(4) of such + Act and clauses (v), (vi)(I), and (vi)(II) of section + 1886(d)(5)(B) of such Act for the portion of time that a + resident rotates to a hospital; and + ``(3) shall not include the time in which a resident is + counted toward full-time equivalency by a hospital under + paragraph (2) or under section 1886(d)(5)(B)(iv) of the Social + Security Act, section 1886(h)(4)(E) of such Act, or section 340E + of this Act. + + ``(f) <> Reconciliation.--The Secretary shall +determine any changes to the number of residents reported by a hospital +in the application of the hospital for the current fiscal year to +determine the final amount payable to the hospital for the current +fiscal year for both direct expense and indirect expense amounts. Based +on such determination, the Secretary shall recoup any overpayments made +to pay any balance due to the extent possible. The final amount so +determined shall be considered a final intermediary determination for +the purposes of section 1878 of the Social Security Act and shall be +subject to administrative and judicial review under that section in the +same manner as the amount of payment under section 1186(d) of such Act +is subject to review under such section. + + ``(g) Funding.--To carry out this section, there are appropriated +such sums as may be necessary, not to exceed $230,000,000, for the +period of fiscal years 2011 through 2015. + ``(h) Annual Reporting Required.-- + ``(1) Annual report.--The report required under this + paragraph for a qualified teaching health center for a fiscal + year is a report that includes (in a form and manner specified + by the Secretary) the following information for the residency + academic year completed immediately prior to such fiscal year: + ``(A) The types of primary care resident approved + training programs that the qualified teaching health + center provided for residents. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 673]] + + ``(B) The number of approved training positions for + residents described in paragraph (4). + ``(C) The number of residents described in paragraph + (4) who completed their residency training at the end of + such residency academic year and care for vulnerable + populations living in underserved areas. + ``(D) Other information as deemed appropriate by the + Secretary. + ``(2) Audit authority; limitation on payment.-- + ``(A) Audit authority.--The Secretary may audit a + qualified teaching health center to ensure the accuracy + and completeness of the information submitted in a + report under paragraph (1). + ``(B) Limitation on payment.--A teaching health + center may only receive payment in a cost reporting + period for a number of such resident positions that is + greater than the base level of primary care resident + positions, as determined by the Secretary. For purposes + of this subparagraph, the `base level of primary care + residents' for a teaching health center is the level of + such residents as of a base period. + ``(3) Reduction in payment for failure to report.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--The + amount payable under this section to a qualified + teaching health center for a fiscal year shall be + reduced by at least 25 percent if the Secretary + determines that-- + ``(i) the qualified teaching health center has + failed to provide the Secretary, as an addendum to + the qualified teaching health center's application + under this section for such fiscal year, the + report required under paragraph (1) for the + previous fiscal year; or + ``(ii) such report fails to provide complete + and accurate information required under any + subparagraph of such paragraph. + ``(B) Notice and opportunity to provide accurate and + missing information. <> --Before + imposing a reduction under subparagraph (A) on the basis + of a qualified teaching health center's failure to + provide complete and accurate information described in + subparagraph (A)(ii), the Secretary shall provide notice + to the teaching health center of such failure and the + Secretary's intention to impose such reduction and shall + provide the teaching health center with the opportunity + to provide the required information within the period of + 30 days beginning on the date of such notice. If the + teaching health center provides such information within + such period, no reduction shall be made under + subparagraph (A) on the basis of the previous failure to + provide such information. + ``(4) Residents.--The residents described in this paragraph + are those who are in part-time or full-time equivalent resident + training positions at a qualified teaching health center in any + approved graduate medical residency training program. + + ``(i) Regulations.--The Secretary shall promulgate regulations to +carry out this section. + ``(j) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Approved graduate medical residency training + program.--The term `approved graduate medical residency + +[[Page 124 STAT. 674]] + + training program' means a residency or other postgraduate + medical training program-- + ``(A) participation in which may be counted toward + certification in a specialty or subspecialty and + includes formal postgraduate training programs in + geriatric medicine approved by the Secretary; and + ``(B) that meets criteria for accreditation (as + established by the Accreditation Council for Graduate + Medical Education, the American Osteopathic Association, + or the American Dental Association). + ``(2) Primary care residency program.--The term `primary + care residency program' has the meaning given that term in + section 749A. + ``(3) Qualified teaching health center.--The term `qualified + teaching health center' has the meaning given the term `teaching + health center' in section 749A.''. + +SEC. 5509. <> GRADUATE NURSE EDUCATION + DEMONSTRATION. + + (a) In General.-- + (1) Establishment.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary shall establish a + graduate nurse education demonstration under title XVIII + of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395 et seq.) + under which an eligible hospital may receive payment for + the hospital's reasonable costs (described in paragraph + (2)) for the provision of qualified clinical training to + advance practice nurses. + (B) Number.--The demonstration shall include up to 5 + eligible hospitals. + (C) Written agreements.--Eligible hospitals selected + to participate in the demonstration shall enter into + written agreements pursuant to subsection (b) in order + to reimburse the eligible partners of the hospital the + share of the costs attributable to each partner. + (2) Costs described.-- + (A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B) and + subsection (d), the costs described in this paragraph + are the reasonable costs (as described in section + 1861(v) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(v))) + of each eligible hospital for the clinical training + costs (as determined by the Secretary) that are + attributable to providing advanced practice registered + nurses with qualified training. + (B) <> Limitation.--With respect + to a year, the amount reimbursed under subparagraph (A) + may not exceed the amount of costs described in + subparagraph (A) that are attributable to an increase in + the number of advanced practice registered nurses + enrolled in a program that provides qualified training + during the year and for which the hospital is being + reimbursed under the demonstration, as compared to the + average number of advanced practice registered nurses + who graduated in each year during the period beginning + on January 1, 2006, and ending on December 31, 2010 (as + determined by the Secretary) from the graduate nursing + education program operated by the applicable school of + nursing that is an eligible partner of the hospital for + purposes of the demonstration. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 675]] + + (3) Waiver authority.--The Secretary may waive such + requirements of titles XI and XVIII of the Social Security Act + as may be necessary to carry out the demonstration. + (4) Administration.--Chapter 35 of title 44, United States + Code, shall not apply to the implementation of this section. + + (b) Written Agreements With Eligible Partners.--No payment shall be +made under this section to an eligible hospital unless such hospital has +in effect a written agreement with the eligible partners of the +hospital. Such written agreement shall describe, at a minimum-- + (1) the obligations of the eligible partners with respect to + the provision of qualified training; and + (2) the obligation of the eligible hospital to reimburse + such eligible partners applicable (in a timely manner) for the + costs of such qualified training attributable to partner. + + (c) <> Evaluation.--Not later than October +17, 2017, the Secretary shall submit to Congress a report on the +demonstration. Such report shall include an analysis of the following: + (1) The growth in the number of advanced practice registered + nurses with respect to a specific base year as a result of the + demonstration. + (2) The growth for each of the specialties described in + subparagraphs (A) through (D) of subsection (e)(1). + (3) The costs to the Medicare program under title XVIII of + the Social Security Act as a result of the demonstration. + (4) Other items the Secretary determines appropriate and + relevant. + + (d) Funding.-- + (1) In general.--There is hereby appropriated to the + Secretary, out of any funds in the Treasury not otherwise + appropriated, $50,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2012 through + 2015 to carry out this section, including the design, + implementation, monitoring, and evaluation of the demonstration. + (2) Proration.--If the aggregate payments to eligible + hospitals under the demonstration exceed $50,000,000 for a + fiscal year described in paragraph (1), the Secretary shall + prorate the payment amounts to each eligible hospital in order + to ensure that the aggregate payments do not exceed such amount. + (3) Without fiscal year limitation.--Amounts appropriated + under this subsection shall remain available without fiscal year + limitation. + + (e) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Advanced practice registered nurse.--The term ``advanced + practice registered nurse'' includes the following: + (A) A clinical nurse specialist (as defined in + subsection (aa)(5) of section 1861 of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x)). + (B) A nurse practitioner (as defined in such + subsection). + (C) A certified registered nurse anesthetist (as + defined in subsection (bb)(2) of such section). + (D) A certified nurse-midwife (as defined in + subsection (gg)(2) of such section). + (2) Applicable non-hospital community-based care setting.-- + The term ``applicable non-hospital community-based care + setting'' means a non-hospital community-based care setting + which has entered into a written agreement (as described in + subsection (b)) with the eligible hospital participating in the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 676]] + + demonstration. Such settings include Federally qualified health + centers, rural health clinics, and other non-hospital settings + as determined appropriate by the Secretary. + (3) Applicable school of nursing.--The term ``applicable + school of nursing'' means an accredited school of nursing (as + defined in section 801 of the Public Health Service Act) which + has entered into a written agreement (as described in subsection + (b)) with the eligible hospital participating in the + demonstration. + (4) Demonstration.--The term ``demonstration'' means the + graduate nurse education demonstration established under + subsection (a). + (5) Eligible hospital.--The term ``eligible hospital'' means + a hospital (as defined in subsection (e) of section 1861 of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x)) or a critical access + hospital (as defined in subsection (mm)(1) of such section) that + has a written agreement in place with-- + (A) 1 or more applicable schools of nursing; and + (B) 2 or more applicable non-hospital community- + based care settings. + (6) Eligible partners.--The term ``eligible partners'' + includes the following: + (A) An applicable non-hospital community-based care + setting. + (B) An applicable school of nursing. + (7) Qualified training.-- + (A) In general.--The term ``qualified training'' + means training-- + (i) that provides an advanced practice + registered nurse with the clinical skills + necessary to provide primary care, preventive + care, transitional care, chronic care management, + and other services appropriate for individuals + entitled to, or enrolled for, benefits under part + A of title XVIII of the Social Security Act, or + enrolled under part B of such title; and + (ii) subject to subparagraph (B), at least + half of which is provided in a non-hospital + community-based care setting. + (B) Waiver of requirement half of training be + provided in non-hospital community-based care setting in + certain areas.--The Secretary may waive the requirement + under subparagraph (A)(ii) with respect to eligible + hospitals located in rural or medically underserved + areas. + (8) Secretary.--The term ``Secretary'' means the Secretary + of Health and Human Services. + + Subtitle G--Improving Access to Health Care Services + +SEC. 5601. SPENDING FOR FEDERALLY QUALIFIED HEALTH CENTERS (FQHCS). + + (a) In General.--Section 330(r) of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 254b(r)) is amended by striking paragraph (1) and inserting the +following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 677]] + + ``(1) General amounts for grants.--For the purpose of + carrying out this section, in addition to the amounts authorized + to be appropriated under subsection (d), there is authorized to + be appropriated the following: + ``(A) For fiscal year 2010, $2,988,821,592. + ``(B) For fiscal year 2011, $3,862,107,440. + ``(C) For fiscal year 2012, $4,990,553,440. + ``(D) For fiscal year 2013, $6,448,713,307. + ``(E) For fiscal year 2014, $7,332,924,155. + ``(F) For fiscal year 2015, $8,332,924,155. + ``(G) For fiscal year 2016, and each subsequent + fiscal year, the amount appropriated for the preceding + fiscal year adjusted by the product of-- + ``(i) one plus the average percentage increase + in costs incurred per patient served; and + ``(ii) one plus the average percentage + increase in the total number of patients + served.''. + + (b) Rule of Construction.--Section 330(r) of the Public Health +Service Act (42 U.S.C. 254b(r)) is amended by adding at the end the +following: + ``(4) Rule of construction with respect to rural health + clinics.-- + ``(A) In general.--Nothing in this section shall be + construed to prevent a community health center from + contracting with a Federally certified rural health + clinic (as defined in section 1861(aa)(2) of the Social + Security Act), a low-volume hospital (as defined for + purposes of section 1886 of such Act), a critical access + hospital, a sole community hospital (as defined for + purposes of section 1886(d)(5)(D)(iii) of such Act), or + a medicare-dependent share hospital (as defined for + purposes of section 1886(d)(5)(G)(iv) of such Act) for + the delivery of primary health care services that are + available at the clinic or hospital to individuals who + would otherwise be eligible for free or reduced cost + care if that individual were able to obtain that care at + the community health center. Such services may be + limited in scope to those primary health care services + available in that clinic or hospitals. + ``(B) Assurances.--In order for a clinic or hospital + to receive funds under this section through a contract + with a community health center under subparagraph (A), + such clinic or hospital shall establish policies to + ensure-- + ``(i) nondiscrimination based on the ability + of a patient to pay; and + ``(ii) the establishment of a sliding fee + scale for low-income patients.''. + +SEC. 5602. <> NEGOTIATED RULEMAKING + FOR DEVELOPMENT OF METHODOLOGY AND CRITERIA FOR DESIGNATING + MEDICALLY UNDERSERVED POPULATIONS AND HEALTH PROFESSIONS + SHORTAGE AREAS. + + (a) Establishment.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services + (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall + establish, through a negotiated rulemaking process under + subchapter 3 of chapter 5 of title 5, United States Code, a + comprehensive methodology and criteria for designation of-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 678]] + + (A) medically underserved populations in accordance + with section 330(b)(3) of the Public Health Service Act + (42 U.S.C. 254b(b)(3)); + (B) health professions shortage areas under section + 332 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 254e). + (2) Factors to consider.--In establishing the methodology + and criteria under paragraph (1), the Secretary-- + (A) shall consult with relevant stakeholders who + will be significantly affected by a rule (such as + national, State and regional organizations representing + affected entities), State health offices, community + organizations, health centers and other affected + entities, and other interested parties; and + (B) shall take into account-- + (i) the timely availability and + appropriateness of data used to determine a + designation to potential applicants for such + designations; + (ii) the impact of the methodology and + criteria on communities of various types and on + health centers and other safety net providers; + (iii) the degree of ease or difficulty that + will face potential applicants for such + designations in securing the necessary data; and + (iv) the extent to which the methodology + accurately measures various barriers that confront + individuals and population groups in seeking + health care services. + + (b) <> Publication of Notice.--In carrying out the +rulemaking process under this subsection, the Secretary shall publish +the notice provided for under section 564(a) of title 5, United States +Code, by not later than 45 days after the date of the enactment of this +Act. + + (c) Target Date for Publication of Rule.--As part of the notice +under subsection (b), and for purposes of this subsection, the ``target +date for publication'', as referred to in section 564(a)(5) of title 5, +United Sates Code, shall be July 1, 2010. + (d) <> Appointment of Negotiated Rulemaking +Committee and Facilitator.--The Secretary shall provide for-- + (1) the appointment of a negotiated rulemaking committee + under section 565(a) of title 5, United States Code, by not + later than 30 days after the end of the comment period provided + for under section 564(c) of such title; and + (2) the nomination of a facilitator under section 566(c) of + such title 5 by not later than 10 days after the date of + appointment of the committee. + + (e) Preliminary Committee Report.--The negotiated rulemaking +committee appointed under subsection (d) shall report to the Secretary, +by not later than April 1, 2010, regarding the committee's progress on +achieving a consensus with regard to the rulemaking proceeding and +whether such consensus is likely to occur before one month before the +target date for publication of the rule. If the committee reports that +the committee has failed to make significant progress toward such +consensus or is unlikely to reach such consensus by the target date, the +Secretary may terminate such process and provide for the publication of +a rule under this section through such other methods as the Secretary +may provide. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 679]] + + (f) Final Committee Report.--If the committee is not terminated +under subsection (e), the rulemaking committee shall submit a report +containing a proposed rule by not later than one month before the target +publication date. + (g) <> Interim +Final Effect.--The Secretary shall publish a rule under this section in +the Federal Register by not later than the target publication +date. <> Such rule shall be +effective and final immediately on an interim basis, but is subject to +change and revision after public notice and opportunity for a period (of +not less than 90 days) for public comment. In connection with such rule, +the Secretary shall specify the process for the timely review and +approval of applications for such designations pursuant to such rules +and consistent with this section. + + (h) Publication of Rule After Public Comment.--The Secretary shall +provide for consideration of such comments and republication of such +rule by not later than 1 year after the target publication date. + +SEC. 5603. REAUTHORIZATION OF THE WAKEFIELD EMERGENCY MEDICAL SERVICES + FOR CHILDREN PROGRAM. + + Section 1910 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 300w-9) is +amended-- + (1) in subsection (a), by striking ``3-year period (with an + optional 4th year'' and inserting ``4-year period (with an + optional 5th year''; and + (2) in subsection (d)-- + (A) by striking ``and such sums'' and inserting + ``such sums''; and + (B) by inserting before the period the following: + ``, $25,000,000 for fiscal year 2010, $26,250,000 for + fiscal year 2011, $27,562,500 for fiscal year 2012, + $28,940,625 for fiscal year 2013, and $30,387,656 for + fiscal year 2014''. + +SEC. 5604. CO-LOCATING PRIMARY AND SPECIALTY CARE IN COMMUNITY-BASED + MENTAL HEALTH SETTINGS. + + Subpart 3 of part B of title V of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 290bb-31 et seq.) is amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 520K. <> AWARDS FOR CO-LOCATING PRIMARY + AND SPECIALTY CARE IN COMMUNITY-BASED MENTAL HEALTH + SETTINGS. + + ``(a) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Eligible entity.--The term `eligible entity' means a + qualified community mental health program defined under section + 1913(b)(1). + ``(2) Special populations.--The term `special populations' + means adults with mental illnesses who have co-occurring primary + care conditions and chronic diseases. + + ``(b) <> Program Authorized.--The +Secretary, acting through the Administrator shall award grants and +cooperative agreements to eligible entities to establish demonstration +projects for the provision of coordinated and integrated services to +special populations through the co-location of primary and specialty +care services in community-based mental and behavioral health settings. + + ``(c) Application.--To be eligible to receive a grant or cooperative +agreement under this section, an eligible entity shall submit an +application to the Administrator at such time, in such manner, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 680]] + +and accompanied by such information as the Administrator may require, +including a description of partnerships, or other arrangements with +local primary care providers, including community health centers, to +provide services to special populations. + ``(d) Use of Funds.-- + ``(1) In general.--For the benefit of special populations, + an eligible entity shall use funds awarded under this section + for-- + ``(A) the provision, by qualified primary care + professionals, of on site primary care services; + ``(B) reasonable costs associated with medically + necessary referrals to qualified specialty care + professionals, other coordinators of care or, if + permitted by the terms of the grant or cooperative + agreement, by qualified specialty care professionals on + a reasonable cost basis on site at the eligible entity; + ``(C) information technology required to accommodate + the clinical needs of primary and specialty care + professionals; or + ``(D) facility modifications needed to bring primary + and specialty care professionals on site at the eligible + entity. + ``(2) Limitation.--Not to exceed 15 percent of grant or + cooperative agreement funds may be used for activities described + in subparagraphs (C) and (D) of paragraph (1). + + ``(e) <> Evaluation.--Not later than 90 days after +a grant or cooperative agreement awarded under this section expires, an +eligible entity shall submit to the Secretary the results of an +evaluation to be conducted by the entity concerning the effectiveness of +the activities carried out under the grant or agreement. + + ``(f) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section, $50,000,000 for fiscal year 2010 +and such sums as may be necessary for each of fiscal years 2011 through +2014.''. + +SEC. 5605. <> KEY NATIONAL INDICATORS. + + (a) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Academy.--The term ``Academy'' means the National + Academy of Sciences. + (2) Commission.--The term ``Commission'' means the + Commission on Key National Indicators established under + subsection (b). + (3) Institute.--The term ``Institute'' means a Key National + Indicators Institute as designated under subsection (c)(3). + + (b) Commission on Key National Indicators.-- + (1) Establishment.--There is established a ``Commission on + Key National Indicators''. + (2) Membership.-- + (A) Number and appointment.--The Commission shall be + composed of 8 members, to be appointed equally by the + majority and minority leaders of the Senate and the + Speaker and minority leader of the House of + Representatives. + (B) Prohibited appointments.--Members of the + Commission shall not include Members of Congress or + other elected Federal, State, or local government + officials. + (C) Qualifications.--In making appointments under + subparagraph (A), the majority and minority leaders of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 681]] + + the Senate and the Speaker and minority leader of the + House of Representatives shall appoint individuals who + have shown a dedication to improving civic dialogue and + decision-making through the wide use of scientific + evidence and factual information. + (D) Period of appointment.--Each member of the + Commission shall be appointed for a 2-year term, except + that 1 initial appointment shall be for 3 years. Any + vacancies shall not affect the power and duties of the + Commission but shall be filled in the same manner as the + original appointment and shall last only for the + remainder of that term. + (E) Date.--Members of the Commission shall be + appointed by not later than 30 days after the date of + enactment of this Act. + (F) Initial organizing period.---Not later than 60 + days after the date of enactment of this Act, the + Commission shall develop and implement a schedule for + completion of the review and reports required under + subsection (d). + (G) Co-chairpersons.--The Commission shall select 2 + Co-Chairpersons from among its members. + + (c) Duties of the Commission.-- + (1) In general.--The Commission shall-- + (A) conduct comprehensive oversight of a newly + established key national indicators system consistent + with the purpose described in this subsection; + (B) make recommendations on how to improve the key + national indicators system; + (C) coordinate with Federal Government users and + information providers to assure access to relevant and + quality data; and + (D) <> enter into contracts with + the Academy. + (2) Reports.-- + (A) Annual report to congress.--Not later than 1 + year after the selection of the 2 Co-Chairpersons of the + Commission, and each subsequent year thereafter, the + Commission shall prepare and submit to the appropriate + Committees of Congress and the President a report that + contains a detailed statement of the recommendations, + findings, and conclusions of the Commission on the + activities of the Academy and a designated Institute + related to the establishment of a Key National Indicator + System. + (B) Annual report to the academy.-- + (i) In general.--Not later than 6 months after + the selection of the 2 Co-Chairpersons of the + Commission, and each subsequent year thereafter, + the Commission shall prepare and submit to the + Academy and a designated Institute a report making + recommendations concerning potential issue areas + and key indicators to be included in the Key + National Indicators. + (ii) Limitation.--The Commission shall not + have the authority to direct the Academy or, if + established, the Institute, to adopt, modify, or + delete any key indicators. + (3) Contract with the national academy of sciences.-- + (A) In general.---As soon as practicable after the + selection of the 2 Co-Chairpersons of the Commission, + the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 682]] + + Co-Chairpersons shall enter into an arrangement with the + National Academy of Sciences under which the Academy + shall-- + (i) review available public and private sector + research on the selection of a set of key national + indicators; + (ii) determine how best to establish a key + national indicator system for the United States, + by either creating its own institutional + capability or designating an independent private + nonprofit organization as an Institute to + implement a key national indicator system; + (iii) if the Academy designates an independent + Institute under clause (ii), provide scientific + and technical advice to the Institute and create + an appropriate governance mechanism that balances + Academy involvement and the independence of the + Institute; and + (iv) <> provide an annual + report to the Commission addressing scientific and + technical issues related to the key national + indicator system and, if established, the + Institute, and governance of the Institute's + budget and operations. + (B) Participation.--In executing the arrangement + under subparagraph (A), the National Academy of Sciences + shall convene a multi-sector, multi-disciplinary process + to define major scientific and technical issues + associated with developing, maintaining, and evolving a + Key National Indicator System and, if an Institute is + established, to provide it with scientific and technical + advice. + (C) Establishment of a key national indicator + system.-- + (i) In general.--In executing the arrangement + under subparagraph (A), the National Academy of + Sciences shall enable the establishment of a key + national indicator system by-- + (I) creating its own institutional + capability; or + (II) partnering with an independent + private nonprofit organization as an + Institute to implement a key national + indicator system. + (ii) Institute.--If the Academy designates an + Institute under clause (i)(II), such Institute + shall be a non-profit entity (as defined for + purposes of section 501(c)(3) of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986) with an educational mission, + a governance structure that emphasizes + independence, and characteristics that make such + entity appropriate for establishing a key national + indicator system. + (iii) Responsibilities.--Either the Academy or + the Institute designated under clause (i)(II) + shall be responsible for the following: + (I) Identifying and selecting issue + areas to be represented by the key + national indicators. + (II) Identifying and selecting the + measures used for key national + indicators within the issue areas under + subclause (I). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 683]] + + (III) Identifying and selecting data + to populate the key national indicators + described under subclause (II). + (IV) Designing, publishing, and + maintaining a public website that + contains a freely accessible database + allowing public access to the key + national indicators. + (V) Developing a quality assurance + framework to ensure rigorous and + independent processes and the selection + of quality data. + (VI) Developing a budget for the + construction and management of a + sustainable, adaptable, and evolving key + national indicator system that reflects + all Commission funding of Academy and, + if an Institute is established, + Institute activities. + (VII) <> Reporting + annually to the Commission regarding its + selection of issue areas, key + indicators, data, and progress toward + establishing a web-accessible database. + (VIII) Responding directly to the + Commission in response to any Commission + recommendations and to the Academy + regarding any inquiries by the Academy. + (iv) Governance.--Upon the establishment of a + key national indicator system, the Academy shall + create an appropriate governance mechanism that + incorporates advisory and control functions. If an + Institute is designated under clause (i)(II), the + governance mechanism shall balance appropriate + Academy involvement and the independence of the + Institute. + (v) Modification and changes.--The Academy + shall retain the sole discretion, at any time, to + alter its approach to the establishment of a key + national indicator system or, if an Institute is + designated under clause (i)(II), to alter any + aspect of its relationship with the Institute or + to designate a different non-profit entity to + serve as the Institute. + (vi) Construction.--Nothing in this section + shall be construed to limit the ability of the + Academy or the Institute designated under clause + (i)(II) to receive private funding for activities + related to the establishment of a key national + indicator system. + (D) Annual report.--As part of the arrangement under + subparagraph (A), the National Academy of Sciences + shall, not later than 270 days after the date of + enactment of this Act, and annually thereafter, submit + to the Co-Chairpersons of the Commission a report that + contains the findings and recommendations of the + Academy. + + (d) Government Accountability Office Study and Report.-- + (1) GAO study.--The Comptroller General of the United States + shall conduct a study of previous work conducted by all public + agencies, private organizations, or foreign countries with + respect to best practices for a key national indicator system. + The study shall be submitted to the appropriate authorizing + committees of Congress. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 684]] + + (2) GAO financial audit.--If an Institute is established + under this section, the Comptroller General shall conduct an + annual audit of the financial statements of the Institute, in + accordance with generally accepted government auditing standards + and submit a report on such audit to the Commission and the + appropriate authorizing committees of Congress. + (3) GAO programmatic review.--The Comptroller General of the + United States shall conduct programmatic assessments of the + Institute established under this section as determined necessary + by the Comptroller General and report the findings to the + Commission and to the appropriate authorizing committees of + Congress. + + (e) Authorization of Appropriations.-- + (1) In general.---There are authorized to be appropriated to + carry out the purposes of this section, $10,000,000 for fiscal + year 2010, and $7,500,000 for each of fiscal year 2011 through + 2018. + (2) Availability.---Amounts appropriated under paragraph (1) + shall remain available until expended. + + Subtitle H--General Provisions + +SEC. 5701. <> REPORTS. + + (a) Reports by Secretary of Health and Human Services.--On an annual +basis, the Secretary of Health and Human Services shall submit to the +appropriate Committees of Congress a report on the activities carried +out under the amendments made by this title, and the effectiveness of +such activities. + (b) Reports by Recipients of Funds.--The Secretary of Health and +Human Services may require, as a condition of receiving funds under the +amendments made by this title, that the entity receiving such award +submit to such Secretary such reports as the such Secretary may require +on activities carried out with such award, and the effectiveness of such +activities. + + TITLE VI--TRANSPARENCY AND PROGRAM INTEGRITY + + Subtitle A--Physician Ownership and Other Transparency + +SEC. 6001. LIMITATION ON MEDICARE EXCEPTION TO THE PROHIBITION ON + CERTAIN PHYSICIAN REFERRALS FOR HOSPITALS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1877 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395nn) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (d)(2)-- + (A) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) in subparagraph (B), by striking the period at + the end and inserting ``; and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(C) in the case where the entity is a hospital, + the hospital meets the requirements of paragraph + (3)(D).''; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 685]] + + (2) in subsection (d)(3)-- + (A) in subparagraph (B), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) in subparagraph (C), by striking the period at + the end and inserting ``; and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(D) <> the hospital meets the + requirements described in subsection (i)(1) not later + than 18 months after the date of the enactment of this + subparagraph.''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(i) Requirements for Hospitals To Qualify for Rural Provider and +Hospital Exception to Ownership or Investment Prohibition.-- + ``(1) Requirements described.--For purposes of subsection + (d)(3)(D), the requirements described in this paragraph for a + hospital are as follows: + ``(A) Provider agreement.--The hospital had-- + ``(i) physician ownership or investment on + February 1, 2010; and + ``(ii) a provider agreement under section 1866 + in effect on such date. + ``(B) Limitation on expansion of facility + capacity.--Except as provided in paragraph (3), the + number of operating rooms, procedure rooms, and beds for + which the hospital is licensed at any time on or after + the date of the enactment of this subsection is no + greater than the number of operating rooms, procedure + rooms, and beds for which the hospital is licensed as of + such date. + ``(C) Preventing conflicts of interest.-- + ``(i) <> The hospital submits + to the Secretary an annual report containing a + detailed description of-- + ``(I) the identity of each physician + owner or investor and any other owners + or investors of the hospital; and + ``(II) the nature and extent of all + ownership and investment interests in + the hospital. + ``(ii) The hospital has procedures in place to + require that any referring physician owner or + investor discloses to the patient being referred, + by a time that permits the patient to make a + meaningful decision regarding the receipt of care, + as determined by the Secretary-- + ``(I) the ownership or investment + interest, as applicable, of such + referring physician in the hospital; and + ``(II) if applicable, any such + ownership or investment interest of the + treating physician. + ``(iii) The hospital does not condition any + physician ownership or investment interests either + directly or indirectly on the physician owner or + investor making or influencing referrals to the + hospital or otherwise generating business for the + hospital. + ``(iv) The hospital discloses the fact that + the hospital is partially owned or invested in by + physicians-- + ``(I) on any public website for the + hospital; and + ``(II) in any public advertising for + the hospital. + ``(D) Ensuring bona fide investment.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 686]] + + ``(i) The percentage of the total value of the + ownership or investment interests held in the + hospital, or in an entity whose assets include the + hospital, by physician owners or investors in the + aggregate does not exceed such percentage as of + the date of enactment of this subsection. + ``(ii) Any ownership or investment interests + that the hospital offers to a physician owner or + investor are not offered on more favorable terms + than the terms offered to a person who is not a + physician owner or investor. + ``(iii) The hospital (or any owner or investor + in the hospital) does not directly or indirectly + provide loans or financing for any investment in + the hospital by a physician owner or investor. + ``(iv) The hospital (or any owner or investor + in the hospital) does not directly or indirectly + guarantee a loan, make a payment toward a loan, or + otherwise subsidize a loan, for any individual + physician owner or investor or group of physician + owners or investors that is related to acquiring + any ownership or investment interest in the + hospital. + ``(v) Ownership or investment returns are + distributed to each owner or investor in the + hospital in an amount that is directly + proportional to the ownership or investment + interest of such owner or investor in the + hospital. + ``(vi) Physician owners and investors do not + receive, directly or indirectly, any guaranteed + receipt of or right to purchase other business + interests related to the hospital, including the + purchase or lease of any property under the + control of other owners or investors in the + hospital or located near the premises of the + hospital. + ``(vii) The hospital does not offer a + physician owner or investor the opportunity to + purchase or lease any property under the control + of the hospital or any other owner or investor in + the hospital on more favorable terms than the + terms offered to an individual who is not a + physician owner or investor. + ``(E) Patient safety.-- + ``(i) Insofar as the hospital admits a patient + and does not have any physician available on the + premises to provide services during all hours in + which the hospital is providing services to such + patient, before admitting the patient-- + ``(I) the hospital discloses such + fact to a patient; and + ``(II) following such disclosure, + the hospital receives from the patient a + signed acknowledgment that the patient + understands such fact. + ``(ii) The hospital has the capacity to-- + ``(I) provide assessment and initial + treatment for patients; and + ``(II) refer and transfer patients + to hospitals with the capability to + treat the needs of the patient involved. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 687]] + + ``(F) Limitation on application to certain converted + facilities.--The hospital was not converted from an + ambulatory surgical center to a hospital on or after the + date of enactment of this subsection. + ``(2) <> Publication of + information reported.--The Secretary shall publish, and update + on an annual basis, the information submitted by hospitals under + paragraph (1)(C)(i) on the public Internet website of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services. + ``(3) Exception to prohibition on expansion of facility + capacity.-- + ``(A) Process.-- + ``(i) Establishment.--The Secretary shall + establish and implement a process under which an + applicable hospital (as defined in subparagraph + (E)) may apply for an exception from the + requirement under paragraph (1)(B). + ``(ii) Opportunity for community input.--The + process under clause (i) shall provide individuals + and entities in the community in which the + applicable hospital applying for an exception is + located with the opportunity to provide input with + respect to the application. + ``(iii) Timing for implementation.--The + Secretary shall implement the process under clause + (i) on August 1, 2011. + ``(iv) <> Regulations.--Not + later than July 1, 2011, the Secretary shall + promulgate regulations to carry out the process + under clause (i). + ``(B) Frequency.--The process described in + subparagraph (A) shall permit an applicable hospital to + apply for an exception up to once every 2 years. + ``(C) Permitted increase.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii) and + subparagraph (D), an applicable hospital granted + an exception under the process described in + subparagraph (A) may increase the number of + operating rooms, procedure rooms, and beds for + which the applicable hospital is licensed above + the baseline number of operating rooms, procedure + rooms, and beds of the applicable hospital (or, if + the applicable hospital has been granted a + previous exception under this paragraph, above the + number of operating rooms, procedure rooms, and + beds for which the hospital is licensed after the + application of the most recent increase under such + an exception). + ``(ii) 100 percent increase limitation.--The + Secretary shall not permit an increase in the + number of operating rooms, procedure rooms, and + beds for which an applicable hospital is licensed + under clause (i) to the extent such increase would + result in the number of operating rooms, procedure + rooms, and beds for which the applicable hospital + is licensed exceeding 200 percent of the baseline + number of operating rooms, procedure rooms, and + beds of the applicable hospital. + ``(iii) Baseline number of operating rooms, + procedure rooms, and beds.--In this paragraph, the + term `baseline number of operating rooms, + procedure + +[[Page 124 STAT. 688]] + + rooms, and beds' means the number of operating + rooms, procedure rooms, and beds for which the + applicable hospital is licensed as of the date of + enactment of this subsection. + ``(D) Increase limited to facilities on the main + campus of the hospital.--Any increase in the number of + operating rooms, procedure rooms, and beds for which an + applicable hospital is licensed pursuant to this + paragraph may only occur in facilities on the main + campus of the applicable hospital. + ``(E) Applicable hospital.--In this paragraph, the + term `applicable hospital' means a hospital-- + ``(i) that is located in a county in which the + percentage increase in the population during the + most recent 5-year period (as of the date of the + application under subparagraph (A)) is at least + 150 percent of the percentage increase in the + population growth of the State in which the + hospital is located during that period, as + estimated by Bureau of the Census; + ``(ii) whose annual percent of total inpatient + admissions that represent inpatient admissions + under the program under title XIX is equal to or + greater than the average percent with respect to + such admissions for all hospitals located in the + county in which the hospital is located; + ``(iii) that does not discriminate against + beneficiaries of Federal health care programs and + does not permit physicians practicing at the + hospital to discriminate against such + beneficiaries; + ``(iv) that is located in a State in which the + average bed capacity in the State is less than the + national average bed capacity; and + ``(v) that has an average bed occupancy rate + that is greater than the average bed occupancy + rate in the State in which the hospital is + located. + ``(F) Procedure rooms.--In this subsection, the term + `procedure rooms' includes rooms in which + catheterizations, angiographies, angiograms, and + endoscopies are performed, except such term shall not + include emergency rooms or departments (exclusive of + rooms in which catheterizations, angiographies, + angiograms, and endoscopies are performed). + ``(G) <> Publication of final decisions.--Not + later than 60 days after receiving a complete + application under this paragraph, the Secretary shall + publish in the Federal Register the final decision with + respect to such application. + ``(H) Limitation on review.--There shall be no + administrative or judicial review under section 1869, + section 1878, or otherwise of the process under this + paragraph (including the establishment of such process). + ``(4) Collection of ownership and investment information.-- + For purposes of subparagraphs (A)(i) and (D)(i) of paragraph + (1), the Secretary shall collect physician ownership and + investment information for each hospital. + ``(5) Physician owner or investor defined.--For purposes of + this subsection, the term `physician owner or investor' means a + physician (or an immediate family member of such + +[[Page 124 STAT. 689]] + + physician) with a direct or an indirect ownership or investment + interest in the hospital. + ``(6) Clarification.--Nothing in this subsection shall be + construed as preventing the Secretary from revoking a hospital's + provider agreement if not in compliance with regulations + implementing section 1866.''. + + (b) Enforcement.-- + (1) <> Ensuring + compliance.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services shall + establish policies and procedures to ensure compliance with the + requirements described in subsection (i)(1) of section 1877 of + the Social Security Act, as added by subsection (a)(3), + beginning on the date such requirements first apply. Such + policies and procedures may include unannounced site reviews of + hospitals. + (2) <> Audits.--Beginning not later than + November 1, 2011, the Secretary of Health and Human Services + shall conduct audits to determine if hospitals violate the + requirements referred to in paragraph (1). + +SEC. 6002. TRANSPARENCY REPORTS AND REPORTING OF PHYSICIAN OWNERSHIP OR + INVESTMENT INTERESTS. + + Part A of title XI of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1301 et +seq.) is amended by inserting after section 1128F the following new +section: + +``SEC. 1128G. <> TRANSPARENCY + REPORTS AND REPORTING OF PHYSICIAN OWNERSHIP OR INVESTMENT + INTERESTS. + + ``(a) Transparency Reports.-- + ``(1) Payments or other transfers of value.-- + ``(A) In general.--On March 31, 2013, and on the + 90th day of each calendar year beginning thereafter, any + applicable manufacturer that provides a payment or other + transfer of value to a covered recipient (or to an + entity or individual at the request of or designated on + behalf of a covered recipient), shall submit to the + Secretary, in such electronic form as the Secretary + shall require, the following information with respect to + the preceding calendar year: + ``(i) The name of the covered recipient. + ``(ii) The business address of the covered + recipient and, in the case of a covered recipient + who is a physician, the specialty and National + Provider Identifier of the covered recipient. + ``(iii) The amount of the payment or other + transfer of value. + ``(iv) The dates on which the payment or other + transfer of value was provided to the covered + recipient. + ``(v) A description of the form of the payment + or other transfer of value, indicated (as + appropriate for all that apply) as-- + ``(I) cash or a cash equivalent; + ``(II) in-kind items or services; + ``(III) stock, a stock option, or + any other ownership interest, dividend, + profit, or other return on investment; + or + ``(IV) any other form of payment or + other transfer of value (as defined by + the Secretary). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 690]] + + ``(vi) A description of the nature of the + payment or other transfer of value, indicated (as + appropriate for all that apply) as-- + ``(I) consulting fees; + ``(II) compensation for services + other than consulting; + ``(III) honoraria; + ``(IV) gift; + ``(V) entertainment; + ``(VI) food; + ``(VII) travel (including the + specified destinations); + ``(VIII) education; + ``(IX) research; + ``(X) charitable contribution; + ``(XI) royalty or license; + ``(XII) current or prospective + ownership or investment interest; + ``(XIII) direct compensation for + serving as faculty or as a speaker for a + medical education program; + ``(XIV) grant; or + ``(XV) any other nature of the + payment or other transfer of value (as + defined by the Secretary). + ``(vii) If the payment or other transfer of + value is related to marketing, education, or + research specific to a covered drug, device, + biological, or medical supply, the name of that + covered drug, device, biological, or medical + supply. + ``(viii) Any other categories of information + regarding the payment or other transfer of value + the Secretary determines appropriate. + ``(B) Special rule for certain payments or other + transfers of value.--In the case where an applicable + manufacturer provides a payment or other transfer of + value to an entity or individual at the request of or + designated on behalf of a covered recipient, the + applicable manufacturer shall disclose that payment or + other transfer of value under the name of the covered + recipient. + ``(2) Physician ownership.--In addition to the requirement + under paragraph (1)(A), on March 31, 2013, and on the 90th day + of each calendar year beginning thereafter, any applicable + manufacturer or applicable group purchasing organization shall + submit to the Secretary, in such electronic form as the + Secretary shall require, the following information regarding any + ownership or investment interest (other than an ownership or + investment interest in a publicly traded security and mutual + fund, as described in section 1877(c)) held by a physician (or + an immediate family member of such physician (as defined for + purposes of section 1877(a))) in the applicable manufacturer or + applicable group purchasing organization during the preceding + year: + ``(A) The dollar amount invested by each physician + holding such an ownership or investment interest. + ``(B) The value and terms of each such ownership or + investment interest. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 691]] + + ``(C) Any payment or other transfer of value + provided to a physician holding such an ownership or + investment interest (or to an entity or individual at + the request of or designated on behalf of a physician + holding such an ownership or investment interest), + including the information described in clauses (i) + through (viii) of paragraph (1)(A), except that in + applying such clauses, `physician' shall be substituted + for `covered recipient' each place it appears. + ``(D) Any other information regarding the ownership + or investment interest the Secretary determines + appropriate. + + ``(b) Penalties for Noncompliance.-- + ``(1) Failure to report.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B) + except as provided in paragraph (2), any applicable + manufacturer or applicable group purchasing organization + that fails to submit information required under + subsection (a) in a timely manner in accordance with + rules or regulations promulgated to carry out such + subsection, shall be subject to a civil money penalty of + not less than $1,000, but not more than $10,000, for + each payment or other transfer of value or ownership or + investment interest not reported as required under such + subsection. Such penalty shall be imposed and collected + in the same manner as civil money penalties under + subsection (a) of section 1128A are imposed and + collected under that section. + ``(B) Limitation.--The total amount of civil money + penalties imposed under subparagraph (A) with respect to + each annual submission of information under subsection + (a) by an applicable manufacturer or applicable group + purchasing organization shall not exceed $150,000. + ``(2) Knowing failure to report.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), any + applicable manufacturer or applicable group purchasing + organization that knowingly fails to submit information + required under subsection (a) in a timely manner in + accordance with rules or regulations promulgated to + carry out such subsection, shall be subject to a civil + money penalty of not less than $10,000, but not more + than $100,000, for each payment or other transfer of + value or ownership or investment interest not reported + as required under such subsection. Such penalty shall be + imposed and collected in the same manner as civil money + penalties under subsection (a) of section 1128A are + imposed and collected under that section. + ``(B) Limitation.--The total amount of civil money + penalties imposed under subparagraph (A) with respect to + each annual submission of information under subsection + (a) by an applicable manufacturer or applicable group + purchasing organization shall not exceed $1,000,000. + ``(3) Use of funds.--Funds collected by the Secretary as a + result of the imposition of a civil money penalty under this + subsection shall be used to carry out this section. + + ``(c) Procedures for Submission of Information and Public +Availability.-- + ``(1) In general.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 692]] + + ``(A) <> Establishment.--Not later + than October 1, 2011, the Secretary shall establish + procedures-- + ``(i) for applicable manufacturers and + applicable group purchasing organizations to + submit information to the Secretary under + subsection (a); and + ``(ii) for the Secretary to make such + information submitted available to the public. + ``(B) Definition of terms.--The procedures + established under subparagraph (A) shall provide for the + definition of terms (other than those terms defined in + subsection (e)), as appropriate, for purposes of this + section. + ``(C) <> Public + availability.--Except as provided in subparagraph (E), + the procedures established under subparagraph (A)(ii) + shall ensure that, not later than September 30, 2013, + and on June 30 of each calendar year beginning + thereafter, the information submitted under subsection + (a) with respect to the preceding calendar year is made + available through an Internet website that-- + ``(i) is searchable and is in a format that is + clear and understandable; + ``(ii) contains information that is presented + by the name of the applicable manufacturer or + applicable group purchasing organization, the name + of the covered recipient, the business address of + the covered recipient, the specialty of the + covered recipient, the value of the payment or + other transfer of value, the date on which the + payment or other transfer of value was provided to + the covered recipient, the form of the payment or + other transfer of value, indicated (as + appropriate) under subsection (a)(1)(A)(v), the + nature of the payment or other transfer of value, + indicated (as appropriate) under subsection + (a)(1)(A)(vi), and the name of the covered drug, + device, biological, or medical supply, as + applicable; + ``(iii) contains information that is able to + be easily aggregated and downloaded; + ``(iv) contains a description of any + enforcement actions taken to carry out this + section, including any penalties imposed under + subsection (b), during the preceding year; + ``(v) contains background information on + industry-physician relationships; + ``(vi) in the case of information submitted + with respect to a payment or other transfer of + value described in subparagraph (E)(i), lists such + information separately from the other information + submitted under subsection (a) and designates such + separately listed information as funding for + clinical research; + ``(vii) contains any other information the + Secretary determines would be helpful to the + average consumer; + ``(viii) does not contain the National + Provider Identifier of the covered recipient, and + ``(ix) subject to subparagraph (D), provides + the applicable manufacturer, applicable group + purchasing organization, or covered recipient an + opportunity to review and submit corrections to + the information submitted with respect to the + applicable manufacturer, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 693]] + + applicable group purchasing organization, or + covered recipient, respectively, for a period of + not less than 45 days prior to such information + being made available to the public. + ``(D) Clarification of time period for review and + corrections.--In no case may the 45-day period for + review and submission of corrections to information + under subparagraph (C)(ix) prevent such information from + being made available to the public in accordance with + the dates described in the matter preceding clause (i) + in subparagraph (C). + ``(E) Delayed publication for payments made pursuant + to product research or development agreements and + clinical investigations.-- + ``(i) In general.--In the case of information + submitted under subsection (a) with respect to a + payment or other transfer of value made to a + covered recipient by an applicable manufacturer + pursuant to a product research or development + agreement for services furnished in connection + with research on a potential new medical + technology or a new application of an existing + medical technology or the development of a new + drug, device, biological, or medical supply, or by + an applicable manufacturer in connection with a + clinical investigation regarding a new drug, + device, biological, or medical supply, the + procedures established under subparagraph (A)(ii) + shall provide that such information is made + available to the public on the first date + described in the matter preceding clause (i) in + subparagraph (C) after the earlier of the + following: + ``(I) The date of the approval or + clearance of the covered drug, device, + biological, or medical supply by the + Food and Drug Administration. + ``(II) Four calendar years after the + date such payment or other transfer of + value was made. + ``(ii) Confidentiality of information prior to + publication.--Information described in clause (i) + shall be considered confidential and shall not be + subject to disclosure under section 552 of title + 5, United States Code, or any other similar + Federal, State, or local law, until on or after + the date on which the information is made + available to the public under such clause. + ``(2) Consultation.--In establishing the procedures under + paragraph (1), the Secretary shall consult with the Inspector + General of the Department of Health and Human Services, affected + industry, consumers, consumer advocates, and other interested + parties in order to ensure that the information made available + to the public under such paragraph is presented in the + appropriate overall context. + + ``(d) Annual Reports and Relation to State Laws.-- + ``(1) Annual report to congress.--Not later than April 1 of + each year beginning with 2013, the Secretary shall submit to + Congress a report that includes the following: + ``(A) The information submitted under subsection (a) + during the preceding year, aggregated for each + applicable manufacturer and applicable group purchasing + organization that submitted such information during such + year + +[[Page 124 STAT. 694]] + + (except, in the case of information submitted with + respect to a payment or other transfer of value + described in subsection (c)(1)(E)(i), such information + shall be included in the first report submitted to + Congress after the date on which such information is + made available to the public under such subsection). + ``(B) A description of any enforcement actions taken + to carry out this section, including any penalties + imposed under subsection (b), during the preceding year. + ``(2) Annual reports to states.--Not later than September + 30, 2013 and on June 30 of each calendar year thereafter, the + Secretary shall submit to States a report that includes a + summary of the information submitted under subsection (a) during + the preceding year with respect to covered recipients in the + State (except, in the case of information submitted with respect + to a payment or other transfer of value described in subsection + (c)(1)(E)(i), such information shall be included in the first + report submitted to States after the date on which such + information is made available to the public under such + subsection). + ``(3) Relation to state laws.-- + ``(A) In general.--In the case of a payment or other + transfer of value provided by an applicable manufacturer + that is received by a covered recipient (as defined in + subsection (e)) on or after January 1, 2012, subject to + subparagraph (B), the provisions of this section shall + preempt any statute or regulation of a State or of a + political subdivision of a State that requires an + applicable manufacturer (as so defined) to disclose or + report, in any format, the type of information (as + described in subsection (a)) regarding such payment or + other transfer of value. + ``(B) No preemption of additional requirements.-- + Subparagraph (A) shall not preempt any statute or + regulation of a State or of a political subdivision of a + State that requires the disclosure or reporting of + information-- + ``(i) not of the type required to be disclosed + or reported under this section; + ``(ii) described in subsection (e)(10)(B), + except in the case of information described in + clause (i) of such subsection; + ``(iii) by any person or entity other than an + applicable manufacturer (as so defined) or a + covered recipient (as defined in subsection (e)); + or + ``(iv) to a Federal, State, or local + governmental agency for public health + surveillance, investigation, or other public + health purposes or health oversight purposes. + ``(C) Nothing in subparagraph (A) shall be construed + to limit the discovery or admissibility of information + described in such subparagraph in a criminal, civil, or + administrative proceeding. + ``(4) Consultation.--The Secretary shall consult with the + Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human Services + on the implementation of this section. + + ``(e) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Applicable group purchasing organization.--The term + `applicable group purchasing organization' means a group + +[[Page 124 STAT. 695]] + + purchasing organization (as defined by the Secretary) that + purchases, arranges for, or negotiates the purchase of a covered + drug, device, biological, or medical supply which is operating + in the United States, or in a territory, possession, or + commonwealth of the United States. + ``(2) Applicable manufacturer.--The term `applicable + manufacturer' means a manufacturer of a covered drug, device, + biological, or medical supply which is operating in the United + States, or in a territory, possession, or commonwealth of the + United States. + ``(3) Clinical investigation.--The term `clinical + investigation' means any experiment involving 1 or more human + subjects, or materials derived from human subjects, in which a + drug or device is administered, dispensed, or used. + ``(4) Covered device.--The term `covered device' means any + device for which payment is available under title XVIII or a + State plan under title XIX or XXI (or a waiver of such a plan). + ``(5) Covered drug, device, biological, or medical supply.-- + The term `covered drug, device, biological, or medical supply' + means any drug, biological product, device, or medical supply + for which payment is available under title XVIII or a State plan + under title XIX or XXI (or a waiver of such a plan). + ``(6) Covered recipient.-- + ``(A) In general.--Except as provided in + subparagraph (B), the term `covered recipient' means the + following: + ``(i) A physician. + ``(ii) A teaching hospital. + ``(B) Exclusion.--Such term does not include a + physician who is an employee of the applicable + manufacturer that is required to submit information + under subsection (a). + ``(7) Employee.--The term `employee' has the meaning given + such term in section 1877(h)(2). + ``(8) Knowingly.--The term `knowingly' has the meaning given + such term in section 3729(b) of title 31, United States Code. + ``(9) Manufacturer of a covered drug, device, biological, or + medical supply.--The term `manufacturer of a covered drug, + device, biological, or medical supply' means any entity which is + engaged in the production, preparation, propagation, + compounding, or conversion of a covered drug, device, + biological, or medical supply (or any entity under common + ownership with such entity which provides assistance or support + to such entity with respect to the production, preparation, + propagation, compounding, conversion, marketing, promotion, + sale, or distribution of a covered drug, device, biological, or + medical supply). + ``(10) Payment or other transfer of value.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `payment or other + transfer of value' means a transfer of anything of + value. Such term does not include a transfer of anything + of value that is made indirectly to a covered recipient + through a third party in connection with an activity or + service in the case where the applicable manufacturer is + unaware of the identity of the covered recipient. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 696]] + + ``(B) Exclusions.--An applicable manufacturer shall + not be required to submit information under subsection + (a) with respect to the following: + ``(i) A transfer of anything the value of + which is less than $10, unless the aggregate + amount transferred to, requested by, or designated + on behalf of the covered recipient by the + applicable manufacturer during the calendar year + exceeds $100. For calendar years after 2012, the + dollar amounts specified in the preceding sentence + shall be increased by the same percentage as the + percentage increase in the consumer price index + for all urban consumers (all items; U.S. city + average) for the 12-month period ending with June + of the previous year. + ``(ii) Product samples that are not intended + to be sold and are intended for patient use. + ``(iii) Educational materials that directly + benefit patients or are intended for patient use. + ``(iv) The loan of a covered device for a + short-term trial period, not to exceed 90 days, to + permit evaluation of the covered device by the + covered recipient. + ``(v) Items or services provided under a + contractual warranty, including the replacement of + a covered device, where the terms of the warranty + are set forth in the purchase or lease agreement + for the covered device. + ``(vi) A transfer of anything of value to a + covered recipient when the covered recipient is a + patient and not acting in the professional + capacity of a covered recipient. + ``(vii) Discounts (including rebates). + ``(viii) In-kind items used for the provision + of charity care. + ``(ix) A dividend or other profit distribution + from, or ownership or investment interest in, a + publicly traded security and mutual fund (as + described in section 1877(c)). + ``(x) In the case of an applicable + manufacturer who offers a self-insured plan, + payments for the provision of health care to + employees under the plan. + ``(xi) In the case of a covered recipient who + is a licensed non-medical professional, a transfer + of anything of value to the covered recipient if + the transfer is payment solely for the non-medical + professional services of such licensed non-medical + professional. + ``(xii) In the case of a covered recipient who + is a physician, a transfer of anything of value to + the covered recipient if the transfer is payment + solely for the services of the covered recipient + with respect to a civil or criminal action or an + administrative proceeding. + ``(11) Physician.--The term `physician' has the meaning + given that term in section 1861(r).''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 697]] + +SEC. 6003. DISCLOSURE REQUIREMENTS FOR IN-OFFICE ANCILLARY SERVICES + EXCEPTION TO THE PROHIBITION ON PHYSICIAN SELF-REFERRAL FOR + CERTAIN IMAGING SERVICES. + + (a) In General.--Section 1877(b)(2) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395nn(b)(2)) is amended by adding at the end the following new +sentence: ``Such requirements shall, with respect to magnetic resonance +imaging, computed tomography, positron emission tomography, and any +other designated health services specified under subsection (h)(6)(D) +that the Secretary determines appropriate, include a requirement that +the referring physician inform the individual in writing at the time of +the referral that the individual may obtain the services for which the +individual is being referred from a person other than a person described +in subparagraph (A)(i) and provide such individual with a written list +of suppliers (as defined in section 1861(d)) who furnish such services +in the area in which such individual resides.''. + (b) Effective Date. <> --The amendment +made by this section shall apply to services furnished on or after +January 1, 2010. + +SEC. 6004. PRESCRIPTION DRUG SAMPLE TRANSPARENCY. + + Part A of title XI of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1301 et +seq.), as amended by section 6002, is amended by inserting after section +1128G the following new section: + +``SEC. 1128H. <> REPORTING OF INFORMATION + RELATING TO DRUG SAMPLES. + + ``(a) In General.--Not later than April 1 of each year (beginning +with 2012), each manufacturer and authorized distributor of record of an +applicable drug shall submit to the Secretary (in a form and manner +specified by the Secretary) the following information with respect to +the preceding year: + ``(1) In the case of a manufacturer or authorized + distributor of record which makes distributions by mail or + common carrier under subsection (d)(2) of section 503 of the + Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 353), the + identity and quantity of drug samples requested and the identity + and quantity of drug samples distributed under such subsection + during that year, aggregated by-- + ``(A) the name, address, professional designation, + and signature of the practitioner making the request + under subparagraph (A)(i) of such subsection, or of any + individual who makes or signs for the request on behalf + of the practitioner; and + ``(B) any other category of information determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(2) In the case of a manufacturer or authorized + distributor of record which makes distributions by means other + than mail or common carrier under subsection (d)(3) of such + section 503, the identity and quantity of drug samples requested + and the identity and quantity of drug samples distributed under + such subsection during that year, aggregated by-- + ``(A) the name, address, professional designation, + and signature of the practitioner making the request + under subparagraph (A)(i) of such subsection, or of any + individual who makes or signs for the request on behalf + of the practitioner; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 698]] + + ``(B) any other category of information determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + + ``(b) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Applicable drug.--The term `applicable drug' means a + drug-- + ``(A) which is subject to subsection (b) of such + section 503; and + ``(B) for which payment is available under title + XVIII or a State plan under title XIX or XXI (or a + waiver of such a plan). + ``(2) Authorized distributor of record.--The term + `authorized distributor of record' has the meaning given that + term in subsection (e)(3)(A) of such section. + ``(3) Manufacturer.--The term `manufacturer' has the meaning + given that term for purposes of subsection (d) of such + section.''. + +SEC. 6005. <> PHARMACY BENEFIT MANAGERS + TRANSPARENCY REQUIREMENTS. + + Part A of title XI of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1301 et +seq.) is amended by inserting after section 1150 the following new +section: + +``SEC. 1150A. PHARMACY BENEFIT MANAGERS TRANSPARENCY REQUIREMENTS. + + ``(a) Provision of Information.--A health benefits plan or any +entity that provides pharmacy benefits management services on behalf of +a health benefits plan (in this section referred to as a `PBM') that +manages prescription drug coverage under a contract with-- + ``(1) a PDP sponsor of a prescription drug plan or an MA + organization offering an MA-PD plan under part D of title XVIII; + or + ``(2) a qualified health benefits plan offered through an + exchange established by a State under section 1311 of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, + +shall provide the information described in subsection (b) to the +Secretary and, in the case of a PBM, to the plan with which the PBM is +under contract with, at such times, and in such form and manner, as the +Secretary shall specify. + ``(b) Information Described.--The information described in this +subsection is the following with respect to services provided by a +health benefits plan or PBM for a contract year: + ``(1) The percentage of all prescriptions that were provided + through retail pharmacies compared to mail order pharmacies, and + the percentage of prescriptions for which a generic drug was + available and dispensed (generic dispensing rate), by pharmacy + type (which includes an independent pharmacy, chain pharmacy, + supermarket pharmacy, or mass merchandiser pharmacy that is + licensed as a pharmacy by the State and that dispenses + medication to the general public), that is paid by the health + benefits plan or PBM under the contract. + ``(2) The aggregate amount, and the type of rebates, + discounts, or price concessions (excluding bona fide service + fees, which include but are not limited to distribution service + fees, inventory management fees, product stocking allowances, + and fees associated with administrative services agreements and + patient care programs (such as medication compliance programs + +[[Page 124 STAT. 699]] + + and patient education programs)) that the PBM negotiates that + are attributable to patient utilization under the plan, and the + aggregate amount of the rebates, discounts, or price concessions + that are passed through to the plan sponsor, and the total + number of prescriptions that were dispensed. + ``(3) The aggregate amount of the difference between the + amount the health benefits plan pays the PBM and the amount that + the PBM pays retail pharmacies, and mail order pharmacies, and + the total number of prescriptions that were dispensed. + + ``(c) Confidentiality.--Information disclosed by a health benefits +plan or PBM under this section is confidential and shall not be +disclosed by the Secretary or by a plan receiving the information, +except that the Secretary may disclose the information in a form which +does not disclose the identity of a specific PBM, plan, or prices +charged for drugs, for the following purposes: + ``(1) As the Secretary determines to be necessary to carry + out this section or part D of title XVIII. + ``(2) To permit the Comptroller General to review the + information provided. + ``(3) To permit the Director of the Congressional Budget + Office to review the information provided. + ``(4) To States to carry out section 1311 of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act. + + ``(d) Penalties. <> --The provisions of +subsection (b)(3)(C) of section 1927 shall apply to a health benefits +plan or PBM that fails to provide information required under subsection +(a) on a timely basis or that knowingly provides false information in +the same manner as such provisions apply to a manufacturer with an +agreement under that section.''. + + Subtitle B--Nursing Home Transparency and Improvement + + PART I--IMPROVING TRANSPARENCY OF INFORMATION + +SEC. 6101. REQUIRED DISCLOSURE OF OWNERSHIP AND ADDITIONAL DISCLOSABLE + PARTIES INFORMATION. + + (a) In General.--Section 1124 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1320a-3) is amended by adding at the end the following new subsection: + ``(c) Required Disclosure of Ownership and Additional Disclosable +Parties Information.-- + ``(1) Disclosure.--A facility shall have the information + described in paragraph (2) available-- + ``(A) <> during the period + beginning on the date of the enactment of this + subsection and ending on the date such information is + made available to the public under section 6101(b) of + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act for + submission to the Secretary, the Inspector General of + the Department of Health and Human Services, the State + in which the facility is located, and the State long- + term care ombudsman in the case where the Secretary, the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 700]] + + Inspector General, the State, or the State long-term + care ombudsman requests such information; and + ``(B) beginning on the effective date of the final + regulations promulgated under paragraph (3)(A), for + reporting such information in accordance with such final + regulations. + Nothing in subparagraph (A) shall be construed as authorizing a + facility to dispose of or delete information described in such + subparagraph after the effective date of the final regulations + promulgated under paragraph (3)(A). + ``(2) Information described.-- + ``(A) In general.--The following information is + described in this paragraph: + ``(i) The information described in subsections + (a) and (b), subject to subparagraph (C). + ``(ii) The identity of and information on-- + ``(I) each member of the governing + body of the facility, including the + name, title, and period of service of + each such member; + ``(II) each person or entity who is + an officer, director, member, partner, + trustee, or managing employee of the + facility, including the name, title, and + period of service of each such person or + entity; and + ``(III) each person or entity who is + an additional disclosable party of the + facility. + ``(iii) The organizational structure of each + additional disclosable party of the facility and a + description of the relationship of each such + additional disclosable party to the facility and + to one another. + ``(B) Special rule where information is already + reported or submitted.--To the extent that information + reported by a facility to the Internal Revenue Service + on Form 990, information submitted by a facility to the + Securities and Exchange Commission, or information + otherwise submitted to the Secretary or any other + Federal agency contains the information described in + clauses (i), (ii), or (iii) of subparagraph (A), the + facility may provide such Form or such information + submitted to meet the requirements of paragraph (1). + ``(C) Special rule.--In applying subparagraph + (A)(i)-- + ``(i) with respect to subsections (a) and (b), + `ownership or control interest' shall include + direct or indirect interests, including such + interests in intermediate entities; and + ``(ii) subsection (a)(3)(A)(ii) shall include + the owner of a whole or part interest in any + mortgage, deed of trust, note, or other obligation + secured, in whole or in part, by the entity or any + of the property or assets thereof, if the interest + is equal to or exceeds 5 percent of the total + property or assets of the entirety. + ``(3) Reporting.-- + ``(A) In general. <> --Not later than + the date that is 2 years after the date of the enactment + of this subsection, the Secretary shall promulgate final + regulations requiring, effective on the date that is 90 + days after the date on which such final regulations are + published in the Federal Register, a facility to report + the information described in + +[[Page 124 STAT. 701]] + + paragraph (2) to the Secretary in a standardized format, + and such other regulations as are necessary to carry out + this subsection. <> Such final + regulations shall ensure that the facility certifies, as + a condition of participation and payment under the + program under title XVIII or XIX, that the information + reported by the facility in accordance with such final + regulations is, to the best of the facility's knowledge, + accurate and current. + ``(B) Guidance.--The Secretary shall provide + guidance and technical assistance to States on how to + adopt the standardized format under subparagraph (A). + ``(4) No effect on existing reporting requirements.--Nothing + in this subsection shall reduce, diminish, or alter any + reporting requirement for a facility that is in effect as of the + date of the enactment of this subsection. + ``(5) Definitions.--In this subsection: + ``(A) Additional disclosable party.--The term + `additional disclosable party' means, with respect to a + facility, any person or entity who-- + ``(i) exercises operational, financial, or + managerial control over the facility or a part + thereof, or provides policies or procedures for + any of the operations of the facility, or provides + financial or cash management services to the + facility; + ``(ii) leases or subleases real property to + the facility, or owns a whole or part interest + equal to or exceeding 5 percent of the total value + of such real property; or + ``(iii) provides management or administrative + services, management or clinical consulting + services, or accounting or financial services to + the facility. + ``(B) Facility.--The term `facility' means a + disclosing entity which is-- + ``(i) a skilled nursing facility (as defined + in section 1819(a)); or + ``(ii) a nursing facility (as defined in + section 1919(a)). + ``(C) Managing employee.--The term `managing + employee' means, with respect to a facility, an + individual (including a general manager, business + manager, administrator, director, or consultant) who + directly or indirectly manages, advises, or supervises + any element of the practices, finances, or operations of + the facility. + ``(D) Organizational structure.--The term + `organizational structure' means, in the case of-- + ``(i) a corporation, the officers, directors, + and shareholders of the corporation who have an + ownership interest in the corporation which is + equal to or exceeds 5 percent; + ``(ii) a limited liability company, the + members and managers of the limited liability + company (including, as applicable, what percentage + each member and manager has of the ownership + interest in the limited liability company); + ``(iii) a general partnership, the partners of + the general partnership; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 702]] + + ``(iv) a limited partnership, the general + partners and any limited partners of the limited + partnership who have an ownership interest in the + limited partnership which is equal to or exceeds + 10 percent; + ``(v) a trust, the trustees of the trust; + ``(vi) an individual, contact information for + the individual; and + ``(vii) any other person or entity, such + information as the Secretary determines + appropriate.''. + + (b) Public Availability of +Information. <> --Not +later than the date that is 1 year after the date on which the final +regulations promulgated under section 1124(c)(3)(A) of the Social +Security Act, as added by subsection (a), are published in the Federal +Register, the Secretary of Health and Human Services shall make the +information reported in accordance with such final regulations available +to the public in accordance with procedures established by the +Secretary. + + (c) Conforming Amendments.-- + (1) In general.-- + (A) Skilled nursing facilities.--Section 1819(d)(1) + of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(d)(1)) is + amended by striking subparagraph (B) and redesignating + subparagraph (C) as subparagraph (B). + (B) Nursing facilities.--Section 1919(d)(1) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(d)(1)) is amended + by striking subparagraph (B) and redesignating + subparagraph (C) as subparagraph (B). + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendments made by paragraph (1) shall take effect on the date + on which the Secretary makes the information described in + subsection (b)(1) available to the public under such subsection. + +SEC. 6102. ACCOUNTABILITY REQUIREMENTS FOR SKILLED NURSING FACILITIES + AND NURSING FACILITIES. + + Part A of title XI of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1301 et +seq.), as amended by sections 6002 and 6004, is amended by inserting +after section 1128H the following new section: + +``SEC. 1128I. <> ACCOUNTABILITY REQUIREMENTS FOR + FACILITIES. + + ``(a) Definition of Facility.--In this section, the term `facility' +means-- + ``(1) a skilled nursing facility (as defined in section + 1819(a)); or + ``(2) a nursing facility (as defined in section 1919(a)). + + ``(b) Effective Compliance and Ethics Programs.-- + ``(1) Requirement. <> --On or after + the date that is 36 months after the date of the enactment of + this section, a facility shall, with respect to the entity that + operates the facility (in this subparagraph referred to as the + `operating organization' or `organization'), have in operation a + compliance and ethics program that is effective in preventing + and detecting criminal, civil, and administrative violations + under this Act and in promoting quality of care consistent with + regulations developed under paragraph (2). + ``(2) <> Development of regulations.-- + ``(A) In general.--Not later than the date that is 2 + years after such date of the enactment, the Secretary, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 703]] + + working jointly with the Inspector General of the + Department of Health and Human Services, shall + promulgate regulations for an effective compliance and + ethics program for operating organizations, which may + include a model compliance program. + ``(B) Design of regulations.--Such regulations with + respect to specific elements or formality of a program + shall, in the case of an organization that operates 5 or + more facilities, vary with the size of the organization, + such that larger organizations should have a more formal + program and include established written policies + defining the standards and procedures to be followed by + its employees. Such requirements may specifically apply + to the corporate level management of multi unit nursing + home chains. + ``(C) Evaluation.--Not later than 3 years after the + date of the promulgation of regulations under this + paragraph, the Secretary shall complete an evaluation of + the compliance and ethics programs required to be + established under this subsection. Such evaluation shall + determine if such programs led to changes in deficiency + citations, changes in quality performance, or changes in + other metrics of patient quality of + care. <> The Secretary shall submit to + Congress a report on such evaluation and shall include + in such report such recommendations regarding changes in + the requirements for such programs as the Secretary + determines appropriate. + ``(3) Requirements for compliance and ethics + programs. <> --In this subsection, the term + `compliance and ethics program' means, with respect to a + facility, a program of the operating organization that-- + ``(A) has been reasonably designed, implemented, and + enforced so that it generally will be effective in + preventing and detecting criminal, civil, and + administrative violations under this Act and in + promoting quality of care; and + ``(B) includes at least the required components + specified in paragraph (4). + ``(4) Required components of program.--The required + components of a compliance and ethics program of an operating + organization are the following: + ``(A) The organization must have established + compliance standards and procedures to be followed by + its employees and other agents that are reasonably + capable of reducing the prospect of criminal, civil, and + administrative violations under this Act. + ``(B) Specific individuals within high-level + personnel of the organization must have been assigned + overall responsibility to oversee compliance with such + standards and procedures and have sufficient resources + and authority to assure such compliance. + ``(C) The organization must have used due care not + to delegate substantial discretionary authority to + individuals whom the organization knew, or should have + known through the exercise of due diligence, had a + propensity to engage in criminal, civil, and + administrative violations under this Act. + ``(D) The organization must have taken steps to + communicate effectively its standards and procedures to + all + +[[Page 124 STAT. 704]] + + employees and other agents, such as by requiring + participation in training programs or by disseminating + publications that explain in a practical manner what is + required. + ``(E) The organization must have taken reasonable + steps to achieve compliance with its standards, such as + by utilizing monitoring and auditing systems reasonably + designed to detect criminal, civil, and administrative + violations under this Act by its employees and other + agents and by having in place and publicizing a + reporting system whereby employees and other agents + could report violations by others within the + organization without fear of retribution. + ``(F) The standards must have been consistently + enforced through appropriate disciplinary mechanisms, + including, as appropriate, discipline of individuals + responsible for the failure to detect an offense. + ``(G) After an offense has been detected, the + organization must have taken all reasonable steps to + respond appropriately to the offense and to prevent + further similar offenses, including any necessary + modification to its program to prevent and detect + criminal, civil, and administrative violations under + this Act. + ``(H) The organization must periodically undertake + reassessment of its compliance program to identify + changes necessary to reflect changes within the + organization and its facilities. + + ``(c) Quality Assurance and Performance Improvement Program.-- + ``(1) In general. <> --Not later than + December 31, 2011, the Secretary shall establish and implement a + quality assurance and performance improvement program (in this + subparagraph referred to as the `QAPI program') for facilities, + including multi unit chains of + facilities. <> Under the QAPI program, the + Secretary shall establish standards relating to quality + assurance and performance improvement with respect to facilities + and provide technical assistance to facilities on the + development of best practices in order to meet such + standards. <> Not later than 1 year after the date + on which the regulations are promulgated under paragraph (2), a + facility must submit to the Secretary a plan for the facility to + meet such standards and implement such best practices, including + how to coordinate the implementation of such plan with quality + assessment and assurance activities conducted under sections + 1819(b)(1)(B) and 1919(b)(1)(B), as applicable. + ``(2) Regulations.--The Secretary shall promulgate + regulations to carry out this subsection.''. + +SEC. 6103. NURSING HOME COMPARE MEDICARE WEBSITE. + + (a) Skilled Nursing Facilities.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1819 of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395i-3) is amended-- + (A) by redesignating subsection (i) as subsection + (j); and + (B) by inserting after subsection (h) the following + new subsection: + + ``(i) Nursing Home Compare Website.-- + ``(1) Inclusion of additional information.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 705]] + + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall ensure that + the Department of Health and Human Services includes, as + part of the information provided for comparison of + nursing homes on the official Internet website of the + Federal Government for Medicare beneficiaries (commonly + referred to as the `Nursing Home Compare' Medicare + website) (or a successor website), the following + information in a manner that is prominent, updated on a + timely basis, easily accessible, readily understandable + to consumers of long-term care services, and searchable: + ``(i) Staffing data for each facility + (including resident census data and data on the + hours of care provided per resident per day) based + on data submitted under section 1128I(g), + including information on staffing turnover and + tenure, in a format that is clearly understandable + to consumers of long-term care services and allows + such consumers to compare differences in staffing + between facilities and State and national averages + for the facilities. Such format shall include-- + ``(I) concise explanations of how to + interpret the data (such as a plain + English explanation of data reflecting + `nursing home staff hours per resident + day'); + ``(II) differences in types of staff + (such as training associated with + different categories of staff); + ``(III) the relationship between + nurse staffing levels and quality of + care; and + ``(IV) an explanation that + appropriate staffing levels vary based + on patient case mix. + ``(ii) Links to State Internet websites with + information regarding State survey and + certification programs, links to Form 2567 State + inspection reports (or a successor form) on such + websites, information to guide consumers in how to + interpret and understand such reports, and the + facility plan of correction or other response to + such report. Any such links shall be posted on a + timely basis. + ``(iii) The standardized complaint form + developed under section 1128I(f), including + explanatory material on what complaint forms are, + how they are used, and how to file a complaint + with the State survey and certification program + and the State long-term care ombudsman program. + ``(iv) Summary information on the number, + type, severity, and outcome of substantiated + complaints. + ``(v) The number of adjudicated instances of + criminal violations by a facility or the employees + of a facility-- + ``(I) that were committed inside the + facility; + ``(II) with respect to such + instances of violations or crimes + committed inside of the facility that + were the violations or crimes of abuse, + neglect, and exploitation, criminal + sexual abuse, or other violations or + crimes that resulted in serious bodily + injury; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 706]] + + ``(III) the number of civil monetary + penalties levied against the facility, + employees, contractors, and other + agents. + ``(B) Deadline for provision of information.-- + ``(i) In general.--Except as provided in + clause (ii), the Secretary shall ensure that the + information described in subparagraph (A) is + included on such website (or a successor website) + not later than 1 year after the date of the + enactment of this subsection. + ``(ii) Exception.--The Secretary shall ensure + that the information described in subparagraph + (A)(i) is included on such website (or a successor + website) not later than the date on which the + requirements under section 1128I(g) are + implemented. + ``(2) Review and modification of website.-- + ``(A) In general. <> --The + Secretary shall establish a process-- + ``(i) to review the accuracy, clarity of + presentation, timeliness, and comprehensiveness of + information reported on such website as of the day + before the date of the enactment of this + subsection; and + ``(ii) <> not later than 1 + year after the date of the enactment of this + subsection, to modify or revamp such website in + accordance with the review conducted under clause + (i). + ``(B) Consultation.--In conducting the review under + subparagraph (A)(i), the Secretary shall consult with-- + ``(i) State long-term care ombudsman programs; + ``(ii) consumer advocacy groups; + ``(iii) provider stakeholder groups; and + ``(iv) any other representatives of programs + or groups the Secretary determines appropriate.''. + (2) Timeliness of submission of survey and certification + information.-- + (A) In general.--Section 1819(g)(5) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(g)(5)) is amended by + adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(E) Submission of survey and certification + information to the secretary.--In order to improve the + timeliness of information made available to the public + under subparagraph (A) and provided on the Nursing Home + Compare Medicare website under subsection (i), each + State shall submit information respecting any survey or + certification made respecting a skilled nursing facility + (including any enforcement actions taken by the State) + to the Secretary not later than the date on which the + State sends such information to the facility. The + Secretary shall use the information submitted under the + preceding sentence to update the information provided on + the Nursing Home Compare Medicare website as + expeditiously as practicable but not less frequently + than quarterly.''. + (B) <> Effective date.-- + The amendment made by this paragraph shall take effect 1 + year after the date of the enactment of this Act. + (3) Special focus facility program.--Section 1819(f) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(f)) is amended by adding + at the end the following new paragraph: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 707]] + + ``(8) Special focus facility program.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall conduct a + special focus facility program for enforcement of + requirements for skilled nursing facilities that the + Secretary has identified as having substantially failed + to meet applicable requirement of this Act. + ``(B) Periodic surveys.--Under such program the + Secretary shall conduct surveys of each facility in the + program not less than once every 6 months.''. + + (b) Nursing Facilities.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1919 of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1396r) is amended-- + (A) by redesignating subsection (i) as subsection + (j); and + (B) by inserting after subsection (h) the following + new subsection: + + ``(i) Nursing Home Compare Website.-- + ``(1) Inclusion of additional information.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall ensure that + the Department of Health and Human Services includes, as + part of the information provided for comparison of + nursing homes on the official Internet website of the + Federal Government for Medicare beneficiaries (commonly + referred to as the `Nursing Home Compare' Medicare + website) (or a successor website), the following + information in a manner that is prominent, updated on a + timely basis, easily accessible, readily understandable + to consumers of long-term care services, and searchable: + ``(i) Staffing data for each facility + (including resident census data and data on the + hours of care provided per resident per day) based + on data submitted under section 1128I(g), + including information on staffing turnover and + tenure, in a format that is clearly understandable + to consumers of long-term care services and allows + such consumers to compare differences in staffing + between facilities and State and national averages + for the facilities. Such format shall include-- + ``(I) concise explanations of how to + interpret the data (such as plain + English explanation of data reflecting + `nursing home staff hours per resident + day'); + ``(II) differences in types of staff + (such as training associated with + different categories of staff); + ``(III) the relationship between + nurse staffing levels and quality of + care; and + ``(IV) an explanation that + appropriate staffing levels vary based + on patient case mix. + ``(ii) Links to State Internet websites with + information regarding State survey and + certification programs, links to Form 2567 State + inspection reports (or a successor form) on such + websites, information to guide consumers in how to + interpret and understand such reports, and the + facility plan of correction or other response to + such report. Any such links shall be posted on a + timely basis. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 708]] + + ``(iii) The standardized complaint form + developed under section 1128I(f), including + explanatory material on what complaint forms are, + how they are used, and how to file a complaint + with the State survey and certification program + and the State long-term care ombudsman program. + ``(iv) Summary information on the number, + type, severity, and outcome of substantiated + complaints. + ``(v) The number of adjudicated instances of + criminal violations by a facility or the employees + of a facility-- + ``(I) that were committed inside of + the facility; and + ``(II) with respect to such + instances of violations or crimes + committed outside of the facility, that + were violations or crimes that resulted + in the serious bodily injury of an + elder. + ``(B) Deadline for provision of information.-- + ``(i) In general.--Except as provided in + clause (ii), the Secretary shall ensure that the + information described in subparagraph (A) is + included on such website (or a successor website) + not later than 1 year after the date of the + enactment of this subsection. + ``(ii) Exception.--The Secretary shall ensure + that the information described in subparagraph + (A)(i) is included on such website (or a successor + website) not later than the date on which the + requirements under section 1128I(g) are + implemented. + ``(2) Review and modification of website.-- + ``(A) In general. <> --The + Secretary shall establish a process-- + ``(i) to review the accuracy, clarity of + presentation, timeliness, and comprehensiveness of + information reported on such website as of the day + before the date of the enactment of this + subsection; and + ``(ii) <> not later than 1 + year after the date of the enactment of this + subsection, to modify or revamp such website in + accordance with the review conducted under clause + (i). + ``(B) Consultation.--In conducting the review under + subparagraph (A)(i), the Secretary shall consult with-- + ``(i) State long-term care ombudsman programs; + ``(ii) consumer advocacy groups; + ``(iii) provider stakeholder groups; + ``(iv) skilled nursing facility employees and + their representatives; and + ``(v) any other representatives of programs or + groups the Secretary determines appropriate.''. + (2) Timeliness of submission of survey and certification + information.-- + (A) In general.--Section 1919(g)(5) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(g)(5)) is amended by + adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(E) <> Submission of survey and + certification information to the secretary.--In order to + improve the timeliness of information made available to + the public under subparagraph (A) and provided on the + Nursing Home + +[[Page 124 STAT. 709]] + + Compare Medicare website under subsection (i), each + State shall submit information respecting any survey or + certification made respecting a nursing facility + (including any enforcement actions taken by the State) + to the Secretary not later than the date on which the + State sends such information to the facility. The + Secretary shall use the information submitted under the + preceding sentence to update the information provided on + the Nursing Home Compare Medicare website as + expeditiously as practicable but not less frequently + than quarterly.''. + (B) Effective date. <> -- + The amendment made by this paragraph shall take effect 1 + year after the date of the enactment of this Act. + (3) Special focus facility program.--Section 1919(f) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(f)) is amended by adding at + the end of the following new paragraph: + ``(10) Special focus facility program.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall conduct a + special focus facility program for enforcement of + requirements for nursing facilities that the Secretary + has identified as having substantially failed to meet + applicable requirements of this Act. + ``(B) Periodic surveys.--Under such program the + Secretary shall conduct surveys of each facility in the + program not less often than once every 6 months.''. + + (c) Availability of Reports on Surveys, Certifications, and +Complaint Investigations.-- + (1) Skilled nursing facilities.--Section 1819(d)(1) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(d)(1)), as amended by + section 6101, is amended by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(C) Availability of survey, certification, and + complaint investigation reports.--A skilled nursing + facility must-- + ``(i) have reports with respect to any + surveys, certifications, and complaint + investigations made respecting the facility during + the 3 preceding years available for any individual + to review upon request; and + ``(ii) <> post + notice of the availability of such reports in + areas of the facility that are prominent and + accessible to the public. + The facility shall not make available under clause (i) + identifying information about complainants or + residents.''. + (2) Nursing facilities.--Section 1919(d)(1) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(d)(1)), as amended by section + 6101, is amended by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(V) Availability of survey, certification, and + complaint investigation reports.--A nursing facility + must-- + ``(i) have reports with respect to any + surveys, certifications, and complaint + investigations made respecting the facility during + the 3 preceding years available for any individual + to review upon request; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 710]] + + ``(ii) <> post + notice of the availability of such reports in + areas of the facility that are prominent and + accessible to the public. + The facility shall not make available under clause (i) + identifying information about complainants or + residents.''. + (3) Effective date. <> --The + amendments made by this subsection shall take effect 1 year + after the date of the enactment of this Act. + + (d) Guidance to States on Form 2567 State Inspection Reports and +Complaint Investigation Reports.-- + (1) Guidance. <> -- + The Secretary of Health and Human Services (in this subtitle + referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall provide guidance to + States on how States can establish electronic links to Form 2567 + State inspection reports (or a successor form), complaint + investigation reports, and a facility's plan of correction or + other response to such Form 2567 State inspection reports (or a + successor form) on the Internet website of the State that + provides information on skilled nursing facilities and nursing + facilities and the Secretary shall, if possible, include such + information on Nursing Home Compare. + (2) Requirement.--Section 1902(a)(9) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)(9)) is amended-- + (A) by striking ``and'' at the end of subparagraph + (B); + (B) by striking the semicolon at the end of + subparagraph (C) and inserting ``, and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(D) that the State maintain a consumer-oriented + website providing useful information to consumers + regarding all skilled nursing facilities and all nursing + facilities in the State, including for each facility, + Form 2567 State inspection reports (or a successor + form), complaint investigation reports, the facility's + plan of correction, and such other information that the + State or the Secretary considers useful in assisting the + public to assess the quality of long term care options + and the quality of care provided by individual + facilities;''. + (3) <> Definitions.--In this + subsection: + (A) Nursing facility.--The term ``nursing facility'' + has the meaning given such term in section 1919(a) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(a)). + (B) Secretary.--The term ``Secretary'' means the + Secretary of Health and Human Services. + (C) Skilled nursing facility.--The term ``skilled + nursing facility'' has the meaning given such term in + section 1819(a) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395i-3(a)). + + (e) <> Development of Consumer +Rights Information Page on Nursing Home Compare Website.--Not later than +1 year after the date of enactment of this Act, the Secretary shall +ensure that the Department of Health and Human Services, as part of the +information provided for comparison of nursing facilities on the Nursing +Home Compare Medicare website develops and includes a consumer rights +information page that contains links to descriptions of, and information +with respect to, the following: + (1) The documentation on nursing facilities that is + available to the public. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 711]] + + (2) General information and tips on choosing a nursing + facility that meets the needs of the individual. + (3) General information on consumer rights with respect to + nursing facilities. + (4) The nursing facility survey process (on a national and + State-specific basis). + (5) On a State-specific basis, the services available + through the State long-term care ombudsman for such State. + +SEC. 6104. REPORTING OF EXPENDITURES. + + Section 1888 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395yy) is +amended by adding at the end the following new subsection: + ``(f) Reporting of Direct Care Expenditures.-- + ``(1) In general.--For cost reports submitted under this + title for cost reporting periods beginning on or after the date + that is 2 years after the date of the enactment of this + subsection, skilled nursing facilities shall separately report + expenditures for wages and benefits for direct care staff + (breaking out (at a minimum) registered nurses, licensed + professional nurses, certified nurse assistants, and other + medical and therapy staff). + ``(2) Modification of form.--The Secretary, in consultation + with private sector accountants experienced with Medicare and + Medicaid nursing facility home cost reports, shall redesign such + reports to meet the requirement of paragraph (1) not later than + 1 year after the date of the enactment of this subsection. + ``(3) Categorization by functional accounts.--Not later than + 30 months after the date of the enactment of this subsection, + the Secretary, working in consultation with the Medicare Payment + Advisory Commission, the Medicaid and CHIP Payment and Access + Commission, the Inspector General of the Department of Health + and Human Services, and other expert parties the Secretary + determines appropriate, shall take the expenditures listed on + cost reports, as modified under paragraph (1), submitted by + skilled nursing facilities and categorize such expenditures, + regardless of any source of payment for such expenditures, for + each skilled nursing facility into the following functional + accounts on an annual basis: + ``(A) Spending on direct care services (including + nursing, therapy, and medical services). + ``(B) Spending on indirect care (including + housekeeping and dietary services). + ``(C) Capital assets (including building and land + costs). + ``(D) Administrative services costs. + ``(4) Availability of information + submitted. <> --The Secretary shall establish + procedures to make information on expenditures submitted under + this subsection readily available to interested parties upon + request, subject to such requirements as the Secretary may + specify under the procedures established under this + paragraph.''. + +SEC. 6105. STANDARDIZED COMPLAINT FORM. + + (a) In General.--Section 1128I of the Social Security Act, as added +and amended by this Act, is amended by adding at the end the following +new subsection: + ``(f) <> Standardized Complaint Form.-- + ``(1) Development by the secretary.--The Secretary shall + develop a standardized complaint form for use by a resident + +[[Page 124 STAT. 712]] + + (or a person acting on the resident's behalf) in filing a + complaint with a State survey and certification agency and a + State long-term care ombudsman program with respect to a + facility. + ``(2) Complaint forms and resolution processes.-- + ``(A) Complaint forms.--The State must make the + standardized complaint form developed under paragraph + (1) available upon request to-- + ``(i) a resident of a facility; and + ``(ii) any person acting on the resident's + behalf. + ``(B) Complaint resolution process.--The State must + establish a complaint resolution process in order to + ensure that the legal representative of a resident of a + facility or other responsible party is not denied access + to such resident or otherwise retaliated against if they + have complained about the quality of care provided by + the facility or other issues relating to the facility. + Such complaint resolution process shall include-- + ``(i) procedures to assure accurate tracking + of complaints received, including notification to + the complainant that a complaint has been + received; + ``(ii) procedures to determine the likely + severity of a complaint and for the investigation + of the complaint; and + ``(iii) deadlines for responding to a + complaint and for notifying the complainant of the + outcome of the investigation. + ``(3) Rule of construction.--Nothing in this subsection + shall be construed as preventing a resident of a facility (or a + person acting on the resident's behalf) from submitting a + complaint in a manner or format other than by using the + standardized complaint form developed under paragraph (1) + (including submitting a complaint orally).''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment +made by this section shall take effect 1 year after the date of the +enactment of this Act. + +SEC. 6106. ENSURING STAFFING ACCOUNTABILITY. + + Section 1128I of the Social Security Act, as added and amended by +this Act, <> is amended by adding at the end the +following new subsection: + + ``(g) Submission of Staffing Information Based on Payroll Data in a +Uniform Format. <> --Beginning not later than 2 years +after the date of the enactment of this subsection, and after consulting +with State long-term care ombudsman programs, consumer advocacy groups, +provider stakeholder groups, employees and their representatives, and +other parties the Secretary deems appropriate, the Secretary shall +require a facility to electronically submit to the Secretary direct care +staffing information (including information with respect to agency and +contract staff) based on payroll and other verifiable and auditable data +in a uniform format (according to specifications established by the +Secretary in consultation with such programs, groups, and parties). Such +specifications shall require that the information submitted under the +preceding sentence-- + ``(1) specify the category of work a certified employee + performs (such as whether the employee is a registered nurse, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 713]] + + licensed practical nurse, licensed vocational nurse, certified + nursing assistant, therapist, or other medical personnel); + ``(2) include resident census data and information on + resident case mix; + ``(3) include a regular reporting schedule; and + ``(4) include information on employee turnover and tenure + and on the hours of care provided by each category of certified + employees referenced in paragraph (1) per resident per day. + +Nothing in this subsection shall be construed as preventing the +Secretary from requiring submission of such information with respect to +specific categories, such as nursing staff, before other categories of +certified employees. Information under this subsection with respect to +agency and contract staff shall be kept separate from information on +employee staffing.''. + +SEC. 6107. GAO STUDY AND REPORT ON FIVE-STAR QUALITY RATING SYSTEM. + + (a) Study.--The Comptroller General of the United States (in this +section referred to as the ``Comptroller General'') shall conduct a +study on the Five-Star Quality Rating System for nursing homes of the +Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services. Such study shall include an +analysis of-- + (1) how such system is being implemented; + (2) any problems associated with such system or its + implementation; and + (3) how such system could be improved. + + (b) Report.--Not later than 2 years after the date of enactment of +this Act, the Comptroller General shall submit to Congress a report +containing the results of the study conducted under subsection (a), +together with recommendations for such legislation and administrative +action as the Comptroller General determines appropriate. + + PART II--TARGETING ENFORCEMENT + +SEC. 6111. CIVIL MONEY PENALTIES. + + (a) Skilled Nursing Facilities.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1819(h)(2)(B)(ii) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(h)(2)(B)(ii)) is amended-- + (A) by striking ``Penalties.--The Secretary'' and + inserting ``penalties.-- + ``(I) In general.--Subject to + subclause (II), the Secretary''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + subclauses: + ``(II) Reduction of civil money + penalties in certain + circumstances. <> -- + Subject to subclause (III), in the case + where a facility self-reports and + promptly corrects a deficiency for which + a penalty was imposed under this clause + not later than 10 calendar days after + the date of such imposition, the + Secretary may reduce the amount of the + penalty imposed by not more than 50 + percent. + ``(III) Prohibitions on reduction + for certain deficiencies.-- + ``(aa) Repeat + deficiencies.--The Secretary may + not reduce the amount of a + penalty under subclause (II) if + the Secretary had + +[[Page 124 STAT. 714]] + + reduced a penalty imposed on the + facility in the preceding year + under such subclause with + respect to a repeat deficiency. + ``(bb) Certain other + deficiencies.--The Secretary may + not reduce the amount of a + penalty under subclause (II) if + the penalty is imposed on the + facility for a deficiency that + is found to result in a pattern + of harm or widespread harm, + immediately jeopardizes the + health or safety of a resident + or residents of the facility, or + results in the death of a + resident of the facility. + ``(IV) Collection of civil money + penalties. <> --In + the case of a civil money penalty + imposed under this clause, the Secretary + shall issue regulations that-- + + ``(aa) <> subjec + t to item (cc), not later than + 30 days after the imposition of + the penalty, provide for the + facility to have the opportunity + to participate in an independent + informal dispute resolution + process which generates a + written record prior to the + collection of such penalty; + ``(bb) <> in the case where the + penalty is imposed for each day + of noncompliance, provide that a + penalty may not be imposed for + any day during the period + beginning on the initial day of + the imposition of the penalty + and ending on the day on which + the informal dispute resolution + process under item (aa) is + completed; + ``(cc) may provide for the + collection of such civil money + penalty and the placement of + such amounts collected in an + escrow account under the + direction of the Secretary on + the earlier of the date on which + the informal dispute resolution + process under item (aa) is + completed or the date that is 90 + days after the date of the + imposition of the penalty; + ``(dd) may provide that such + amounts collected are kept in + such account pending the + resolution of any subsequent + appeals; + ``(ee) in the case where the + facility successfully appeals + the penalty, may provide for the + return of such amounts collected + (plus interest) to the facility; + and + ``(ff) in the case where all + such appeals are unsuccessful, + may provide that some portion of + such amounts collected may be + used to support activities that + benefit residents, including + assistance to support and + protect residents of a facility + that closes (voluntarily or + involuntarily) or is decertified + (including offsetting costs of + relocating residents to home and + community-based settings or + another facility), projects that + support resident and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 715]] + + family councils and other + consumer involvement in assuring + quality care in facilities, and + facility improvement initiatives + approved by the Secretary + (including joint training of + facility staff and surveyors, + technical assistance for + facilities implementing quality + assurance programs, the + appointment of temporary + management firms, and other + activities approved by the + Secretary).''. + (2) Conforming amendment.--The second sentence of section + 1819(h)(5) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(h)(5)) + is amended by inserting ``(ii)(IV),'' after ``(i),''. + + (b) Nursing Facilities.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1919(h)(3)(C)(ii) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(h)(3)(C)) is amended-- + (A) by striking ``Penalties.--The Secretary'' and + inserting ``penalties.-- + ``(I) In general.--Subject to + subclause (II), the Secretary''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + subclauses: + ``(II) Reduction of civil money + penalties in certain + circumstances. <> -- + Subject to subclause (III), in the case + where a facility self-reports and + promptly corrects a deficiency for which + a penalty was imposed under this clause + not later than 10 calendar days after + the date of such imposition, the + Secretary may reduce the amount of the + penalty imposed by not more than 50 + percent. + ``(III) Prohibitions on reduction + for certain deficiencies.-- + ``(aa) Repeat + deficiencies.--The Secretary may + not reduce the amount of a + penalty under subclause (II) if + the Secretary had reduced a + penalty imposed on the facility + in the preceding year under such + subclause with respect to a + repeat deficiency. + ``(bb) Certain other + deficiencies.--The Secretary may + not reduce the amount of a + penalty under subclause (II) if + the penalty is imposed on the + facility for a deficiency that + is found to result in a pattern + of harm or widespread harm, + immediately jeopardizes the + health or safety of a resident + or residents of the facility, or + results in the death of a + resident of the facility. + ``(IV) Collection of civil money + penalties. <> --In + the case of a civil money penalty + imposed under this clause, the Secretary + shall issue regulations that-- + + ``(aa) <> subjec + t to item (cc), not later than + 30 days after the imposition of + the penalty, provide for the + facility to have the opportunity + to participate in an independent + informal dispute resolution + process which generates a + written record prior to the + collection of such penalty; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 716]] + + ``(bb) <> in the case where the + penalty is imposed for each day + of noncompliance, provide that a + penalty may not be imposed for + any day during the period + beginning on the initial day of + the imposition of the penalty + and ending on the day on which + the informal dispute resolution + process under item (aa) is + completed; + ``(cc) may provide for the + collection of such civil money + penalty and the placement of + such amounts collected in an + escrow account under the + direction of the Secretary on + the earlier of the date on which + the informal dispute resolution + process under item (aa) is + completed or the date that is 90 + days after the date of the + imposition of the penalty; + ``(dd) may provide that such + amounts collected are kept in + such account pending the + resolution of any subsequent + appeals; + ``(ee) in the case where the + facility successfully appeals + the penalty, may provide for the + return of such amounts collected + (plus interest) to the facility; + and + ``(ff) in the case where all + such appeals are unsuccessful, + may provide that some portion of + such amounts collected may be + used to support activities that + benefit residents, including + assistance to support and + protect residents of a facility + that closes (voluntarily or + involuntarily) or is decertified + (including offsetting costs of + relocating residents to home and + community-based settings or + another facility), projects that + support resident and family + councils and other consumer + involvement in assuring quality + care in facilities, and facility + improvement initiatives approved + by the Secretary (including + joint training of facility staff + and surveyors, technical + assistance for facilities + implementing quality assurance + programs, the appointment of + temporary management firms, and + other activities approved by the + Secretary).''. + (2) Conforming amendment.--Section 1919(h)(5)(8) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(h)(5)(8)) is amended by + inserting ``(ii)(IV),'' after ``(i),''. + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall take effect 1 year after the date of the +enactment of this Act. + +SEC. 6112. <> NATIONAL INDEPENDENT MONITOR + DEMONSTRATION PROJECT. + + (a) Establishment.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary, in consultation with the + Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human + Services, shall conduct a demonstration project to develop, + test, and implement an independent monitor program to oversee + +[[Page 124 STAT. 717]] + + interstate and large intrastate chains of skilled nursing + facilities and nursing facilities. + (2) Selection.--The Secretary shall select chains of skilled + nursing facilities and nursing facilities described in paragraph + (1) to participate in the demonstration project under this + section from among those chains that submit an application to + the Secretary at such time, in such manner, and containing such + information as the Secretary may require. + (3) Duration.--The Secretary shall conduct the demonstration + project under this section for a 2-year period. + (4) Implementation. <> --The Secretary + shall implement the demonstration project under this section not + later than 1 year after the date of the enactment of this Act. + + (b) Requirements. <> --The Secretary shall +evaluate chains selected to participate in the demonstration project +under this section based on criteria selected by the Secretary, +including where evidence suggests that a number of the facilities of the +chain are experiencing serious safety and quality of care problems. Such +criteria may include the evaluation of a chain that includes a number of +facilities participating in the ``Special Focus Facility'' program (or a +successor program) or multiple facilities with a record of repeated +serious safety and quality of care deficiencies. + + (c) Responsibilities. <> --An independent monitor +that enters into a contract with the Secretary to participate in the +conduct of the demonstration project under this section shall-- + (1) <> conduct periodic reviews and prepare + root-cause quality and deficiency analyses of a chain to assess + if facilities of the chain are in compliance with State and + Federal laws and regulations applicable to the facilities; + (2) conduct sustained oversight of the efforts of the chain, + whether publicly or privately held, to achieve compliance by + facilities of the chain with State and Federal laws and + regulations applicable to the facilities; + (3) analyze the management structure, distribution of + expenditures, and nurse staffing levels of facilities of the + chain in relation to resident census, staff turnover rates, and + tenure; + (4) <> report findings and recommendations + with respect to such reviews, analyses, and oversight to the + chain and facilities of the chain, to the Secretary, and to + relevant States; and + (5) <> publish the results of such + reviews, analyses, and oversight. + + (d) Implementation of Recommendations.-- + (1) Receipt of finding by chain. <> --Not + later than 10 days after receipt of a finding of an independent + monitor under subsection (c)(4), <> a chain + participating in the demonstration project shall submit to the + independent monitor a report-- + (A) outlining corrective actions the chain will take + to implement the recommendations in such report; or + (B) indicating that the chain will not implement + such recommendations, and why it will not do so. + (2) Receipt of report by independent monitor.--Not later + than 10 days after receipt of a report submitted by a chain + under paragraph (1), an independent monitor shall finalize its + recommendations and submit a report to the chain and facilities + of the chain, the Secretary, and the State or States, as + appropriate, containing such final recommendations. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 718]] + + (e) Cost of Appointment.--A chain shall be responsible for a portion +of the costs associated with the appointment of independent monitors +under the demonstration project under this +section. <> The chain shall pay such portion +to the Secretary (in an amount and in accordance with procedures +established by the Secretary). + + (f) Waiver Authority.--The Secretary may waive such requirements of +titles XVIII and XIX of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395 et seq.; +1396 et seq.) as may be necessary for the purpose of carrying out the +demonstration project under this section. + (g) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated such sums as may be necessary to carry out this section. + (h) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Additional disclosable party.--The term ``additional + disclosable party'' has the meaning given such term in section + 1124(c)(5)(A) of the Social Security Act, as added by section + 4201(a). + (2) Facility.--The term ``facility'' means a skilled nursing + facility or a nursing facility. + (3) Nursing facility.--The term ``nursing facility'' has the + meaning given such term in section 1919(a) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(a)). + (4) Secretary.--The term ``Secretary'' means the Secretary + of Health and Human Services, acting through the Assistant + Secretary for Planning and Evaluation. + (5) Skilled nursing facility.--The term ``skilled nursing + facility'' has the meaning given such term in section 1819(a) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395(a)). + + (i) Evaluation and Report.-- + (1) Evaluation.--The Secretary, in consultation with the + Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human + Services, shall evaluate the demonstration project conducted + under this section. + (2) Report.--Not later than 180 days after the completion of + the demonstration project under this section, the Secretary + shall submit to Congress a report containing the results of the + evaluation conducted under paragraph (1), together with + recommendations-- + (A) as to whether the independent monitor program + should be established on a permanent basis; + (B) if the Secretary recommends that such program be + so established, on appropriate procedures and mechanisms + for such establishment; and + (C) for such legislation and administrative action + as the Secretary determines appropriate. + +SEC. 6113. NOTIFICATION OF FACILITY CLOSURE. + + (a) In General.--Section 1128I of the Social Security Act, as added +and amended by this Act, <> is amended by adding +at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(h) Notification of Facility Closure.-- + ``(1) In general.--Any individual who is the administrator + of a facility must-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 719]] + + ``(A) <> submit to + the Secretary, the State long-term care ombudsman, + residents of the facility, and the legal representatives + of such residents or other responsible parties, written + notification of an impending closure-- + ``(i) subject to clause (ii), not later than + the date that is 60 days prior to the date of such + closure; and + ``(ii) in the case of a facility where the + Secretary terminates the facility's participation + under this title, not later than the date that the + Secretary determines appropriate; + ``(B) ensure that the facility does not admit any + new residents on or after the date on which such written + notification is submitted; and + ``(C) <> include in the notice a plan + for the transfer and adequate relocation of the + residents of the facility by a specified date prior to + closure that has been approved by the State, including + assurances that the residents will be transferred to the + most appropriate facility or other setting in terms of + quality, services, and location, taking into + consideration the needs, choice, and best interests of + each resident. + ``(2) Relocation.-- + ``(A) In general.--The State shall ensure that, + before a facility closes, all residents of the facility + have been successfully relocated to another facility or + an alternative home and community-based setting. + ``(B) Continuation of payments until residents + relocated.-- <> The Secretary may, + as the Secretary determines appropriate, continue to + make payments under this title with respect to residents + of a facility that has submitted a notification under + paragraph (1) during the period beginning on the date + such notification is submitted and ending on the date on + which the resident is successfully relocated. + ``(3) Sanctions.--Any individual who is the administrator of + a facility that fails to comply with the requirements of + paragraph (1)-- + ``(A) shall be subject to a civil monetary penalty + of up to $100,000; + ``(B) may be subject to exclusion from participation + in any Federal health care program (as defined in + section 1128B(f)); and + ``(C) shall be subject to any other penalties that + may be prescribed by law. + ``(4) Procedure.-- <> The provisions + of section 1128A (other than subsections (a) and (b) and the + second sentence of subsection (f)) shall apply to a civil money + penalty or exclusion under paragraph (3) in the same manner as + such provisions apply to a penalty or proceeding under section + 1128A(a).''. + + (b) Conforming Amendments.--Section 1819(h)(4) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(h)(4)) is amended-- + (1) in the first sentence, by striking ``the Secretary shall + terminate'' and inserting ``the Secretary, subject to section + 1128I(h), shall terminate''; and + (2) in the second sentence, by striking ``subsection + (c)(2)'' and inserting ``subsection (c)(2) and section + 1128I(h)''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 720]] + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall take effect 1 year after the date of the +enactment of this Act. + +SEC. 6114. <> NATIONAL DEMONSTRATION + PROJECTS ON CULTURE CHANGE AND USE OF INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY + IN NURSING HOMES. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary shall conduct 2 demonstration +projects, 1 for the development of best practices in skilled nursing +facilities and nursing facilities that are involved in the culture +change movement (including the development of resources for facilities +to find and access funding in order to undertake culture change) and 1 +for the development of best practices in skilled nursing facilities and +nursing facilities for the use of information technology to improve +resident care. + (b) Conduct of Demonstration Projects.-- + (1) Grant award.--Under each demonstration project conducted + under this section, the Secretary shall award 1 or more grants + to facility-based settings for the development of best practices + described in subsection (a) with respect to the demonstration + project involved. Such award shall be made on a competitive + basis and may be allocated in 1 lump-sum payment. + (2) Consideration of special needs of residents.--Each + demonstration project conducted under this section shall take + into consideration the special needs of residents of skilled + nursing facilities and nursing facilities who have cognitive + impairment, including dementia. + + (c) Duration and Implementation.-- + (1) Duration.--The demonstration projects shall each be + conducted for a period not to exceed 3 years. + (2) Implementation.-- <> The demonstration + projects shall each be implemented not later than 1 year after + the date of the enactment of this Act. + + (d) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Nursing facility.--The term ``nursing facility'' has the + meaning given such term in section 1919(a) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(a)). + (2) Secretary.--The term ``Secretary'' means the Secretary + of Health and Human Services. + (3) Skilled nursing facility.--The term ``skilled nursing + facility'' has the meaning given such term in section 1819(a) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395(a)). + + (e) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated such sums as may be necessary to carry out this section. + (f) Report.-- <> Not later than 9 months +after the completion of the demonstration project, the Secretary shall +submit to Congress a report on such project, together with +recommendations for such legislation and administrative action as the +Secretary determines appropriate. + + PART III--IMPROVING STAFF TRAINING + +SEC. 6121. DEMENTIA AND ABUSE PREVENTION TRAINING. + + (a) Skilled Nursing Facilities.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1819(f)(2)(A)(i)(I) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(f)(2)(A)(i)(I)) is amended by + +[[Page 124 STAT. 721]] + + inserting ``(including, in the case of initial training and, if + the Secretary determines appropriate, in the case of ongoing + training, dementia management training, and patient abuse + prevention training'' before ``, (II)''. + (2) Clarification of definition of nurse aide.--Section + 1819(b)(5)(F) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i- + 3(b)(5)(F)) is amended by adding at the end the following flush + sentence: + ``Such term includes an individual who provides such + services through an agency or under a contract with the + facility.''. + + (b) Nursing Facilities.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1919(f)(2)(A)(i)(I) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(f)(2)(A)(i)(I)) is amended by + inserting ``(including, in the case of initial training and, if + the Secretary determines appropriate, in the case of ongoing + training, dementia management training, and patient abuse + prevention training'' before ``, (II)''. + (2) Clarification of definition of nurse aide.--Section + 1919(b)(5)(F) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396r(b)(5)(F)) is amended by adding at the end the following + flush sentence: + ``Such term includes an individual who provides such + services through an agency or under a contract with the + facility.''. + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall take effect 1 year after the date of the +enactment of this Act. + +Subtitle C--Nationwide Program for National and State Background Checks + on Direct Patient Access Employees of Long-term Care Facilities and + Providers + +SEC. 6201. <> NATIONWIDE PROGRAM FOR NATIONAL + AND STATE BACKGROUND CHECKS ON DIRECT PATIENT ACCESS + EMPLOYEES OF LONG-TERM CARE FACILITIES AND PROVIDERS. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services (in this +section referred to as the ``Secretary''), shall establish a program to +identify efficient, effective, and economical procedures for long term +care facilities or providers to conduct background checks on prospective +direct patient access employees on a nationwide basis (in this +subsection, such program shall be referred to as the ``nationwide +program''). Except for the following modifications, the Secretary shall +carry out the nationwide program under similar terms and conditions as +the pilot program under section 307 of the Medicare Prescription Drug, +Improvement, and Modernization Act of 2003 (Public Law 108-173; 117 +Stat. 2257), including the prohibition on hiring abusive workers and the +authorization of the imposition of penalties by a participating State +under subsection (b)(3)(A) and (b)(6), respectively, of such section +307: + (1) Agreements.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 722]] + + (A) Newly participating states.--The Secretary shall + enter into agreements with each State-- + (i) that the Secretary has not entered into an + agreement with under subsection (c)(1) of such + section 307; + (ii) that agrees to conduct background checks + under the nationwide program on a Statewide basis; + and + (iii) that submits an application to the + Secretary containing such information and at such + time as the Secretary may specify. + (B) Certain previously participating states.--The + Secretary shall enter into agreements with each State-- + (i) that the Secretary has entered into an + agreement with under such subsection (c)(1), but + only in the case where such agreement did not + require the State to conduct background checks + under the program established under subsection (a) + of such section 307 on a Statewide basis; + (ii) that agrees to conduct background checks + under the nationwide program on a Statewide basis; + and + (iii) that submits an application to the + Secretary containing such information and at such + time as the Secretary may specify. + (2) Nonapplication of selection criteria.--The selection + criteria required under subsection (c)(3)(B) of such section 307 + shall not apply. + (3) Required fingerprint check as part of criminal history + background check.--The procedures established under subsection + (b)(1) of such section 307 shall-- + (A) require that the long-term care facility or + provider (or the designated agent of the long-term care + facility or provider) obtain State and national criminal + history background checks on the prospective employee + through such means as the Secretary determines + appropriate, efficient, and effective that utilize a + search of State-based abuse and neglect registries and + databases, including the abuse and neglect registries of + another State in the case where a prospective employee + previously resided in that State, State criminal history + records, the records of any proceedings in the State + that may contain disqualifying information about + prospective employees (such as proceedings conducted by + State professional licensing and disciplinary boards and + State Medicaid Fraud Control Units), and Federal + criminal history records, including a fingerprint check + using the Integrated Automated Fingerprint + Identification System of the Federal Bureau of + Investigation; + (B) require States to describe and test methods that + reduce duplicative fingerprinting, including providing + for the development of ``rap back'' capability by the + State such that, if a direct patient access employee of + a long-term care facility or provider is convicted of a + crime following the initial criminal history background + check conducted + +[[Page 124 STAT. 723]] + + with respect to such employee, and the employee's + fingerprints match the prints on file with the State law + enforcement department, the department will immediately + inform the State and the State will immediately inform + the long-term care facility or provider which employs + the direct patient access employee of such conviction; + and + (C) require that criminal history background checks + conducted under the nationwide program remain valid for + a period of time specified by the Secretary. + (4) State requirements.--An agreement entered into under + paragraph (1) shall require that a participating State-- + (A) be responsible for monitoring compliance with + the requirements of the nationwide program; + (B) <> have procedures in place + to-- + (i) conduct screening and criminal history + background checks under the nationwide program in + accordance with the requirements of this section; + (ii) monitor compliance by long-term care + facilities and providers with the procedures and + requirements of the nationwide program; + (iii) as appropriate, provide for a + provisional period of employment by a long-term + care facility or provider of a direct patient + access employee, not to exceed 60 days, pending + completion of the required criminal history + background check and, in the case where the + employee has appealed the results of such + background check, pending completion of the + appeals process, during which the employee shall + be subject to direct on-site supervision (in + accordance with procedures established by the + State to ensure that a long-term care facility or + provider furnishes such direct on-site + supervision); + (iv) provide an independent process by which a + provisional employee or an employee may appeal or + dispute the accuracy of the information obtained + in a background check performed under the + nationwide program, including the specification of + criteria for appeals for direct patient access + employees found to have disqualifying information + which shall include consideration of the passage + of time, extenuating circumstances, demonstration + of rehabilitation, and relevancy of the particular + disqualifying information with respect to the + current employment of the individual; + (v) provide for the designation of a single + State agency as responsible for-- + (I) overseeing the coordination of + any State and national criminal history + background checks requested by a long- + term care facility or provider (or the + designated agent of the long-term care + facility or provider) utilizing a search + of State and Federal criminal history + records, including a fingerprint check + of such records; + (II) overseeing the design of + appropriate privacy and security + safeguards for use in the review of the + results of any State or national + criminal history background checks + conducted regarding a + +[[Page 124 STAT. 724]] + + prospective direct patient access + employee to determine whether the + employee has any conviction for a + relevant crime; + (III) immediately reporting to the + long-term care facility or provider that + requested the criminal history + background check the results of such + review; and + (IV) in the case of an employee with + a conviction for a relevant crime that + is subject to reporting under section + 1128E of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1320a-7e), reporting the + existence of such conviction to the + database established under that section; + (vi) determine which individuals are direct + patient access employees (as defined in paragraph + (6)(B)) for purposes of the nationwide program; + (vii) as appropriate, specify offenses, + including convictions for violent crimes, for + purposes of the nationwide program; and + (viii) describe and test methods that reduce + duplicative fingerprinting, including providing + for the development of ``rap back'' capability + such that, if a direct patient access employee of + a long-term care facility or provider is convicted + of a crime following the initial criminal history + background check conducted with respect to such + employee, and the employee's fingerprints match + the prints on file with the State law enforcement + department-- + (I) the department will immediately + inform the State agency designated under + clause (v) and such agency will + immediately inform the facility or + provider which employs the direct + patient access employee of such + conviction; and + (II) the State will provide, or will + require the facility to provide, to the + employee a copy of the results of the + criminal history background check + conducted with respect to the employee + at no charge in the case where the + individual requests such a copy. + (5) Payments.-- + (A) Newly participating states.-- + (i) In general.--As part of the application + submitted by a State under paragraph (1)(A)(iii), + the State shall guarantee, with respect to the + costs to be incurred by the State in carrying out + the nationwide program, that the State will make + available (directly or through donations from + public or private entities) a particular amount of + non-Federal contributions, as a condition of + receiving the Federal match under clause (ii). + (ii) Federal match.--The payment amount to + each State that the Secretary enters into an + agreement with under paragraph (1)(A) shall be 3 + times the amount that the State guarantees to make + available under clause (i), except that in no case + may the payment amount exceed $3,000,000. + (B) Previously participating states.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 725]] + + (i) In general.--As part of the application + submitted by a State under paragraph (1)(B)(iii), + the State shall guarantee, with respect to the + costs to be incurred by the State in carrying out + the nationwide program, that the State will make + available (directly or through donations from + public or private entities) a particular amount of + non-Federal contributions, as a condition of + receiving the Federal match under clause (ii). + (ii) Federal match.--The payment amount to + each State that the Secretary enters into an + agreement with under paragraph (1)(B) shall be 3 + times the amount that the State guarantees to make + available under clause (i), except that in no case + may the payment amount exceed $1,500,000. + (6) Definitions.--Under the nationwide program: + (A) Conviction for a relevant crime.--The term + ``conviction for a relevant crime'' means any Federal or + State criminal conviction for-- + (i) any offense described in section 1128(a) + of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7); or + (ii) such other types of offenses as a + participating State may specify for purposes of + conducting the program in such State. + (B) Disqualifying information.--The term + ``disqualifying information'' means a conviction for a + relevant crime or a finding of patient or resident + abuse. + (C) Finding of patient or resident abuse.--The term + ``finding of patient or resident abuse'' means any + substantiated finding by a State agency under section + 1819(g)(1)(C) or 1919(g)(1)(C) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(g)(1)(C), 1396r(g)(1)(C)) or a + Federal agency that a direct patient access employee has + committed-- + (i) an act of patient or resident abuse or + neglect or a misappropriation of patient or + resident property; or + (ii) such other types of acts as a + participating State may specify for purposes of + conducting the program in such State. + (D) Direct patient access employee.--The term + ``direct patient access employee'' means any individual + who has access to a patient or resident of a long-term + care facility or provider through employment or through + a contract with such facility or provider and has duties + that involve (or may involve) one-on-one contact with a + patient or resident of the facility or provider, as + determined by the State for purposes of the nationwide + program. Such term does not include a volunteer unless + the volunteer has duties that are equivalent to the + duties of a direct patient access employee and those + duties involve (or may involve) one-on-one contact with + a patient or resident of the long-term care facility or + provider. + (E) Long-term care facility or provider.--The term + ``long-term care facility or provider'' means the + following facilities or providers which receive payment + for services under title XVIII or XIX of the Social + Security Act: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 726]] + + (i) A skilled nursing facility (as defined in + section 1819(a) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395i-3(a))). + (ii) A nursing facility (as defined in section + 1919(a) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r(a))). + (iii) A home health agency. + (iv) A provider of hospice care (as defined in + section 1861(dd)(1) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395x(dd)(1))). + (v) A long-term care hospital (as described in + section 1886(d)(1)(B)(iv) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395ww(d)(1)(B)(iv))). + (vi) A provider of personal care services. + (vii) A provider of adult day care. + (viii) A residential care provider that + arranges for, or directly provides, long-term care + services, including an assisted living facility + that provides a level of care established by the + Secretary. + (ix) An intermediate care facility for the + mentally retarded (as defined in section 1905(d) + of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(d))). + (x) Any other facility or provider of long- + term care services under such titles as the + participating State determines appropriate. + (7) Evaluation and report.-- + (A) Evaluation.-- + (i) In general.--The Inspector General of the + Department of Health and Human Services shall + conduct an evaluation of the nationwide program. + (ii) Inclusion of specific topics.--The + evaluation conducted under clause (i) shall + include the following: + (I) A review of the various + procedures implemented by participating + States for long-term care facilities or + providers, including staffing agencies, + to conduct background checks of direct + patient access employees under the + nationwide program and identification of + the most appropriate, efficient, and + effective procedures for conducting such + background checks. + (II) An assessment of the costs of + conducting such background checks + (including start up and administrative + costs). + (III) A determination of the extent + to which conducting such background + checks leads to any unintended + consequences, including a reduction in + the available workforce for long-term + care facilities or providers. + (IV) An assessment of the impact of + the nationwide program on reducing the + number of incidents of neglect, abuse, + and misappropriation of resident + property to the extent practicable. + (V) An evaluation of other aspects + of the nationwide program, as determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + (B) Report.--Not later than 180 days after the + completion of the nationwide program, the Inspector + General of the Department of Health and Human Services + shall + +[[Page 124 STAT. 727]] + + submit a report to Congress containing the results of + the evaluation conducted under subparagraph (A). + + (b) Funding.-- + (1) Notification.--The Secretary of Health and Human + Services shall notify the Secretary of the Treasury of the + amount necessary to carry out the nationwide program under this + section for the period of fiscal years 2010 through 2012, except + that in no case shall such amount exceed $160,000,000. + (2) Transfer of funds.-- + (A) In general.--Out of any funds in the Treasury + not otherwise appropriated, the Secretary of the + Treasury shall provide for the transfer to the Secretary + of Health and Human Services of the amount specified as + necessary to carry out the nationwide program under + paragraph (1). Such amount shall remain available until + expended. + (B) Reservation of funds for conduct of + evaluation.--The Secretary may reserve not more than + $3,000,000 of the amount transferred under subparagraph + (A) to provide for the conduct of the evaluation under + subsection (a)(7)(A). + + Subtitle D--Patient-Centered Outcomes Research + +SEC. 6301. PATIENT-CENTERED OUTCOMES RESEARCH. + + (a) In General.--Title XI of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1301 +et seq.) is amended by adding at the end the following new part: + + ``Part D--Comparative Clinical Effectiveness Research + + + ``comparative clinical effectiveness research + + + ``Sec. 1181. <> (a) Definitions.--In this +section: + ``(1) Board.--The term `Board' means the Board of Governors + established under subsection (f). + ``(2) Comparative clinical effectiveness research; + research.-- + ``(A) In general.--The terms `comparative clinical + effectiveness research' and `research' mean research + evaluating and comparing health outcomes and the + clinical effectiveness, risks, and benefits of 2 or more + medical treatments, services, and items described in + subparagraph (B). + ``(B) Medical treatments, services, and items + described.--The medical treatments, services, and items + described in this subparagraph are health care + interventions, protocols for treatment, care management, + and delivery, procedures, medical devices, diagnostic + tools, pharmaceuticals (including drugs and + biologicals), integrative health practices, and any + other strategies or items being used in the treatment, + management, and diagnosis of, or prevention of illness + or injury in, individuals. + ``(3) Conflict of interest.--The term `conflict of interest' + means an association, including a financial or personal + association, that have the potential to bias or have the + appearance + +[[Page 124 STAT. 728]] + + of biasing an individual's decisions in matters related to the + Institute or the conduct of activities under this section. + ``(4) Real conflict of interest.--The term `real conflict of + interest' means any instance where a member of the Board, the + methodology committee established under subsection (d)(6), or an + advisory panel appointed under subsection (d)(4), or a close + relative of such member, has received or could receive either of + the following: + ``(A) A direct financial benefit of any amount + deriving from the result or findings of a study + conducted under this section. + ``(B) A financial benefit from individuals or + companies that own or manufacture medical treatments, + services, or items to be studied under this section that + in the aggregate exceeds $10,000 per year. For purposes + of the preceding sentence, a financial benefit includes + honoraria, fees, stock, or other financial benefit and + the current value of the member or close relative's + already existing stock holdings, in addition to any + direct financial benefit deriving from the results or + findings of a study conducted under this section. + + ``(b) Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Institute.-- + ``(1) Establishment.--There is authorized to be established + a nonprofit corporation, to be known as the `Patient-Centered + Outcomes Research Institute' (referred to in this section as the + `Institute') which is neither an agency nor establishment of the + United States Government. + ``(2) <> Application of + provisions.--The Institute shall be subject to the provisions of + this section, and, to the extent consistent with this section, + to the District of Columbia Nonprofit Corporation Act. + ``(3) Funding of comparative clinical effectiveness + research.--For fiscal year 2010 and each subsequent fiscal year, + amounts in the Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Trust Fund + (referred to in this section as the `PCORTF') under section 9511 + of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 shall be available, without + further appropriation, to the Institute to carry out this + section. + + ``(c) Purpose.--The purpose of the Institute is to assist patients, +clinicians, purchasers, and policy-makers in making informed health +decisions by advancing the quality and relevance of evidence concerning +the manner in which diseases, disorders, and other health conditions can +effectively and appropriately be prevented, diagnosed, treated, +monitored, and managed through research and evidence synthesis that +considers variations in patient subpopulations, and the dissemination of +research findings with respect to the relative health outcomes, clinical +effectiveness, and appropriateness of the medical treatments, services, +and items described in subsection (a)(2)(B). + ``(d) Duties.-- + ``(1) Identifying research priorities and establishing + research project agenda.-- + ``(A) Identifying research priorities.--The + Institute shall identify national priorities for + research, taking into account factors of disease + incidence, prevalence, and burden in the United States + (with emphasis on chronic conditions), gaps in evidence + in terms of clinical outcomes, practice + +[[Page 124 STAT. 729]] + + variations and health disparities in terms of delivery + and outcomes of care, the potential for new evidence to + improve patient health, well-being, and the quality of + care, the effect on national expenditures associated + with a health care treatment, strategy, or health + conditions, as well as patient needs, outcomes, and + preferences, the relevance to patients and clinicians in + making informed health decisions, and priorities in the + National Strategy for quality care established under + section 399H of the Public Health Service Act that are + consistent with this section. + ``(B) Establishing research project agenda.--The + Institute shall establish and update a research project + agenda for research to address the priorities identified + under subparagraph (A), taking into consideration the + types of research that might address each priority and + the relative value (determined based on the cost of + conducting research compared to the potential usefulness + of the information produced by research) associated with + the different types of research, and such other factors + as the Institute determines appropriate. + ``(2) Carrying out research project agenda.-- + ``(A) Research.--The Institute shall carry out the + research project agenda established under paragraph + (1)(B) in accordance with the methodological standards + adopted under paragraph (9) using methods, including the + following: + ``(i) Systematic reviews and assessments of + existing and future research and evidence + including original research conducted subsequent + to the date of the enactment of this section. + ``(ii) Primary research, such as randomized + clinical trials, molecularly informed trials, and + observational studies. + ``(iii) Any other methodologies recommended by + the methodology committee established under + paragraph (6) that are adopted by the Board under + paragraph (9). + ``(B) Contracts for the management of funding and + conduct of research.-- + ``(i) Contracts.-- + ``(I) In general.--In accordance + with the research project agenda + established under paragraph (1)(B), the + Institute shall enter into contracts for + the management of funding and conduct of + research in accordance with the + following: + ``(aa) Appropriate agencies + and instrumentalities of the + Federal Government. + ``(bb) Appropriate academic + research, private sector + research, or study-conducting + entities. + ``(II) Preference.--In entering into + contracts under subclause (I), the + Institute shall give preference to the + Agency for Healthcare Research and + Quality and the National Institutes of + Health, but only if the research to be + conducted or managed under such contract + is authorized by the governing statutes + of such Agency or Institutes. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 730]] + + ``(ii) Conditions for contracts.--A contract + entered into under this subparagraph shall require + that the agency, instrumentality, or other + entity-- + ``(I) abide by the transparency and + conflicts of interest requirements under + subsection (h) that apply to the + Institute with respect to the research + managed or conducted under such + contract; + ``(II) comply with the + methodological standards adopted under + paragraph (9) with respect to such + research; + ``(III) consult with the expert + advisory panels for clinical trials and + rare disease appointed under clauses + (ii) and (iii), respectively, of + paragraph (4)(A); + ``(IV) subject to clause (iv), + permit a researcher who conducts + original research under the contract for + the agency, instrumentality, or other + entity to have such research published + in a peer-reviewed journal or other + publication; + ``(V) have appropriate processes in + place to manage data privacy and meet + ethical standards for the research; + ``(VI) comply with the requirements + of the Institute for making the + information available to the public + under paragraph (8); and + ``(VII) comply with other terms and + conditions determined necessary by the + Institute to carry out the research + agenda adopted under paragraph (2). + ``(iii) Coverage of copayments or + coinsurance.--A contract entered into under this + subparagraph may allow for the coverage of + copayments or coinsurance, or allow for other + appropriate measures, to the extent that such + coverage or other measures are necessary to + preserve the validity of a research project, such + as in the case where the research project must be + blinded. + ``(iv) Requirements for publication of + research.--Any research published under clause + (ii)(IV) shall be within the bounds of and + entirely consistent with the evidence and findings + produced under the contract with the Institute + under this subparagraph. If the Institute + determines that those requirements are not met, + the Institute shall not enter into another + contract with the agency, instrumentality, or + entity which managed or conducted such research + for a period determined appropriate by the + Institute (but not less than 5 years). + ``(C) Review and update of evidence.--The Institute + shall review and update evidence on a periodic basis as + appropriate. + ``(D) Taking into account potential differences.-- + Research shall be designed, as appropriate, to take into + account the potential for differences in the + effectiveness of health care treatments, services, and + items as used with various subpopulations, such as + racial and ethnic minorities, women, age, and groups of + individuals with different comorbidities, genetic and + molecular sub-types, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 731]] + + or quality of life preferences and include members of + such subpopulations as subjects in the research as + feasible and appropriate. + ``(E) Differences in treatment modalities.--Research + shall be designed, as appropriate, to take into account + different characteristics of treatment modalities that + may affect research outcomes, such as the phase of the + treatment modality in the innovation cycle and the + impact of the skill of the operator of the treatment + modality. + ``(3) Data collection.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall, with + appropriate safeguards for privacy, make available to + the Institute such data collected by the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services under the programs under + titles XVIII, XIX, and XXI, as well as provide access to + the data networks developed under section 937(f) of the + Public Health Service Act, as the Institute and its + contractors may require to carry out this section. The + Institute may also request and obtain data from Federal, + State, or private entities, including data from clinical + databases and registries. + ``(B) Use of data.--The Institute shall only use + data provided to the Institute under subparagraph (A) in + accordance with laws and regulations governing the + release and use of such data, including applicable + confidentiality and privacy standards. + ``(4) Appointing expert advisory panels.-- + ``(A) Appointment.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Institute may appoint + permanent or ad hoc expert advisory panels as + determined appropriate to assist in identifying + research priorities and establishing the research + project agenda under paragraph (1) and for other + purposes. + ``(ii) Expert advisory panels for clinical + trials.--The Institute shall appoint expert + advisory panels in carrying out randomized + clinical trials under the research project agenda + under paragraph (2)(A)(ii). Such expert advisory + panels shall advise the Institute and the agency, + instrumentality, or entity conducting the research + on the research question involved and the research + design or protocol, including important patient + subgroups and other parameters of the research. + Such panels shall be available as a resource for + technical questions that may arise during the + conduct of such research. + ``(iii) Expert advisory panel for rare + disease.--In the case of a research study for rare + disease, the Institute shall appoint an expert + advisory panel for purposes of assisting in the + design of the research study and determining the + relative value and feasibility of conducting the + research study. + ``(B) Composition.--An expert advisory panel + appointed under subparagraph (A) shall include + representatives of practicing and research clinicians, + patients, and experts in scientific and health services + research, health services delivery, and evidence-based + medicine who have experience in the relevant topic, and + as appropriate, experts + +[[Page 124 STAT. 732]] + + in integrative health and primary prevention strategies. + The Institute may include a technical expert of each + manufacturer or each medical technology that is included + under the relevant topic, project, or category for which + the panel is established. + ``(5) Supporting patient and consumer representatives.--The + Institute shall provide support and resources to help patient + and consumer representatives effectively participate on the + Board and expert advisory panels appointed by the Institute + under paragraph (4). + ``(6) Establishing methodology committee.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Institute shall establish a + standing methodology committee to carry out the + functions described in subparagraph (C). + ``(B) Appointment and composition.--The methodology + committee established under subparagraph (A) shall be + composed of not more than 15 members appointed by the + Comptroller General of the United States. Members + appointed to the methodology committee shall be experts + in their scientific field, such as health services + research, clinical research, comparative clinical + effectiveness research, biostatistics, genomics, and + research methodologies. Stakeholders with such expertise + may be appointed to the methodology committee. In + addition to the members appointed under the first + sentence, the Directors of the National Institutes of + Health and the Agency for Healthcare Research and + Quality (or their designees) shall each be included as + members of the methodology committee. + ``(C) Functions.-- <> Subject to + subparagraph (D), the methodology committee shall work + to develop and improve the science and methods of + comparative clinical effectiveness research by, not + later than 18 months after the establishment of the + Institute, directly or through subcontract, developing + and periodically updating the following: + ``(i) Methodological standards for research. + Such methodological standards shall provide + specific criteria for internal validity, + generalizability, feasibility, and timeliness of + research and for health outcomes measures, risk + adjustment, and other relevant aspects of research + and assessment with respect to the design of + research. Any methodological standards developed + and updated under this subclause shall be + scientifically based and include methods by which + new information, data, or advances in technology + are considered and incorporated into ongoing + research projects by the Institute, as + appropriate. The process for developing and + updating such standards shall include input from + relevant experts, stakeholders, and + decisionmakers, and shall provide opportunities + for public comment. Such standards shall also + include methods by which patient subpopulations + can be accounted for and evaluated in different + types of research. As appropriate, such standards + shall build on existing work on methodological + standards for defined categories of health + interventions and for each of the major categories + of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 733]] + + comparative clinical effectiveness research + methods (determined as of the date of enactment of + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act). + ``(ii) A translation table that is designed to + provide guidance and act as a reference for the + Board to determine research methods that are most + likely to address each specific research question. + ``(D) Consultation and conduct of examinations.--The + methodology committee may consult and contract with the + Institute of Medicine of the National Academies and + academic, nonprofit, or other private and governmental + entities with relevant expertise to carry out activities + described in subparagraph (C) and may consult with + relevant stakeholders to carry out such activities. + ``(E) Reports.--The methodology committee shall + submit reports to the Board on the committee's + performance of the functions described in subparagraph + (C). <> Reports shall contain + recommendations for the Institute to adopt + methodological standards developed and updated by the + methodology committee as well as other actions deemed + necessary to comply with such methodological standards. + ``(7) Providing for a peer-review process for primary + research.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Institute shall ensure that + there is a process for peer review of primary research + described in subparagraph (A)(ii) of paragraph (2) that + is conducted under such paragraph. Under such process-- + ``(i) evidence from such primary research + shall be reviewed to assess scientific integrity + and adherence to methodological standards adopted + under paragraph (9); and + ``(ii) <> a + list of the names of individuals contributing to + any peer-review process during the preceding year + or years shall be made public and included in + annual reports in accordance with paragraph + (10)(D). + ``(B) Composition.--Such peer-review process shall + be designed in a manner so as to avoid bias and + conflicts of interest on the part of the reviewers and + shall be composed of experts in the scientific field + relevant to the research under review. + ``(C) Use of existing processes.-- + ``(i) Processes of another entity.--In the + case where the Institute enters into a contract or + other agreement with another entity for the + conduct or management of research under this + section, the Institute may utilize the peer-review + process of such entity if such process meets the + requirements under subparagraphs (A) and (B). + ``(ii) Processes of appropriate medical + journals.--The Institute may utilize the peer- + review process of appropriate medical journals if + such process meets the requirements under + subparagraphs (A) and (B). + ``(8) Release of research findings.-- + ``(A) In general.-- <> The + Institute shall, not later than 90 days after the + conduct or receipt of research findings under this part, + make such research findings available + +[[Page 124 STAT. 734]] + + to clinicians, patients, and the general public. The + Institute shall ensure that the research findings-- + ``(i) convey the findings of research in a + manner that is comprehensible and useful to + patients and providers in making health care + decisions; + ``(ii) fully convey findings and discuss + considerations specific to certain subpopulations, + risk factors, and comorbidities, as appropriate; + ``(iii) include limitations of the research + and what further research may be needed as + appropriate; + ``(iv) not be construed as mandates for + practice guidelines, coverage recommendations, + payment, or policy recommendations; and + ``(v) not include any data which would violate + the privacy of research participants or any + confidentiality agreements made with respect to + the use of data under this section. + ``(B) Definition of research findings.--In this + paragraph, the term `research findings' means the + results of a study or assessment. + ``(9) Adoption.--Subject to subsection (h)(1), the Institute + shall adopt the national priorities identified under paragraph + (1)(A), the research project agenda established under paragraph + (1)(B), the methodological standards developed and updated by + the methodology committee under paragraph (6)(C)(i), and any + peer-review process provided under paragraph (7) by majority + vote. In the case where the Institute does not adopt such + processes in accordance with the preceding sentence, the + processes shall be referred to the appropriate staff or entity + within the Institute (or, in the case of the methodological + standards, the methodology committee) for further review. + ``(10) <> Annual reports.--The + Institute shall submit an annual report to Congress and the + President, and shall make the annual report available to the + public. Such report shall contain-- + ``(A) a description of the activities conducted + under this section, research priorities identified under + paragraph (1)(A) and methodological standards developed + and updated by the methodology committee under paragraph + (6)(C)(i) that are adopted under paragraph (9) during + the preceding year; + ``(B) the research project agenda and budget of the + Institute for the following year; + ``(C) any administrative activities conducted by the + Institute during the preceding year; + ``(D) the names of individuals contributing to any + peer-review process under paragraph (7), without + identifying them with a particular research project; and + ``(E) any other relevant information (including + information on the membership of the Board, expert + advisory panels, methodology committee, and the + executive staff of the Institute, any conflicts of + interest with respect to these individuals, and any + bylaws adopted by the Board during the preceding year). + + ``(e) Administration.-- + ``(1) In general.--Subject to paragraph (2), the Board shall + carry out the duties of the Institute. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 735]] + + ``(2) Nondelegable duties.--The activities described in + subsections (d)(1) and (d)(9) are nondelegable. + + ``(f) Board of Governors.-- + ``(1) <> In general.--The Institute + shall have a Board of Governors, which shall consist of the + following members: + ``(A) The Director of Agency for Healthcare Research + and Quality (or the Director's designee). + ``(B) The Director of the National Institutes of + Health (or the Director's designee). + ``(C) <> Seventeen members + appointed, not later than 6 months after the date of + enactment of this section, by the Comptroller General of + the United States as follows: + ``(i) 3 members representing patients and + health care consumers. + ``(ii) 5 members representing physicians and + providers, including at least 1 surgeon, nurse, + State-licensed integrative health care + practitioner, and representative of a hospital. + ``(iii) 3 members representing private payers, + of whom at least 1 member shall represent health + insurance issuers and at least 1 member shall + represent employers who self-insure employee + benefits. + ``(iv) 3 members representing pharmaceutical, + device, and diagnostic manufacturers or + developers. + ``(v) 1 member representing quality + improvement or independent health service + researchers. + ``(vi) 2 members representing the Federal + Government or the States, including at least 1 + member representing a Federal health program or + agency. + ``(2) Qualifications.--The Board shall represent a broad + range of perspectives and collectively have scientific expertise + in clinical health sciences research, including epidemiology, + decisions sciences, health economics, and statistics. In + appointing the Board, the Comptroller General of the United + States shall consider and disclose any conflicts of interest in + accordance with subsection (h)(4)(B). Members of the Board shall + be recused from relevant Institute activities in the case where + the member (or an immediate family member of such member) has a + real conflict of interest directly related to the research + project or the matter that could affect or be affected by such + participation. + ``(3) Terms; vacancies.--A member of the Board shall be + appointed for a term of 6 years, except with respect to the + members first appointed, whose terms of appointment shall be + staggered evenly over 2-year increments. No individual shall be + appointed to the Board for more than 2 terms. Vacancies shall be + filled in the same manner as the original appointment was made. + ``(4) Chairperson and vice-chairperson.-- + <> The Comptroller General of the United + States shall designate a Chairperson and Vice Chairperson of the + Board from among the members of the Board. Such members shall + serve as Chairperson or Vice Chairperson for a period of 3 + years. + ``(5) Compensation.--Each member of the Board who is not an + officer or employee of the Federal Government shall be entitled + to compensation (equivalent to the rate provided for level IV of + the Executive Schedule under section 5315 of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 736]] + + title 5, United States Code) and expenses incurred while + performing the duties of the Board. An officer or employee of + the Federal government who is a member of the Board shall be + exempt from compensation. + ``(6) Director and staff; experts and consultants.--The + Board may employ and fix the compensation of an Executive + Director and such other personnel as may be necessary to carry + out the duties of the Institute and may seek such assistance and + support of, or contract with, experts and consultants that may + be necessary for the performance of the duties of the Institute. + ``(7) Meetings and hearings.--The Board shall meet and hold + hearings at the call of the Chairperson or a majority of its + members. Meetings not solely concerning matters of personnel + shall be advertised at least 7 days in advance and open to the + public. A majority of the Board members shall constitute a + quorum, but a lesser number of members may meet and hold + hearings. + + ``(g) Financial and Governmental Oversight.-- + ``(1) Contract for audit.--The Institute shall provide for + the conduct of financial audits of the Institute on an annual + basis by a private entity with expertise in conducting financial + audits. + ``(2) Review and annual reports.-- + ``(A) Review.--The Comptroller General of the United + States shall review the following: + ``(i) Not less frequently than on an annual + basis, the financial audits conducted under + paragraph (1). + ``(ii) Not less frequently than every 5 years, + the processes established by the Institute, + including the research priorities and the conduct + of research projects, in order to determine + whether information produced by such research + projects is objective and credible, is produced in + a manner consistent with the requirements under + this section, and is developed through a + transparent process. + ``(iii) Not less frequently than every 5 + years, the dissemination and training activities + and data networks established under section 937 of + the Public Health Service Act, including the + methods and products used to disseminate research, + the types of training conducted and supported, and + the types and functions of the data networks + established, in order to determine whether the + activities and data are produced in a manner + consistent with the requirements under such + section. + ``(iv) Not less frequently than every 5 years, + the overall effectiveness of activities conducted + under this section and the dissemination, + training, and capacity building activities + conducted under section 937 of the Public Health + Service Act. Such review shall include an analysis + of the extent to which research findings are used + by health care decision-makers, the effect of the + dissemination of such findings on reducing + practice variation and disparities in health care, + and the effect of the research conducted and + disseminated on + +[[Page 124 STAT. 737]] + + innovation and the health care economy of the + United States. + ``(v) Not later than 8 years after the date of + enactment of this section, the adequacy and use of + the funding for the Institute and the activities + conducted under section 937 of the Public Health + Service Act, including a determination as to + whether, based on the utilization of research + findings by public and private payers, funding + sources for the Patient-Centered Outcomes Research + Trust Fund under section 9511 of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 are appropriate and whether + such sources of funding should be continued or + adjusted. + ``(B) Annual reports.-- <> Not later than April 1 of each year, the + Comptroller General of the United States shall submit to + Congress a report containing the results of the review + conducted under subparagraph (A) with respect to the + preceding year (or years, if applicable), together with + recommendations for such legislation and administrative + action as the Comptroller General determines + appropriate. + + ``(h) Ensuring Transparency, Credibility, and Access.-- +<> The Institute shall establish procedures to ensure +that the following requirements for ensuring transparency, credibility, +and access are met: + ``(1) Public comment periods.--The Institute shall provide + for a public comment period of not less than 45 days and not + more than 60 days prior to the adoption under subsection (d)(9) + of the national priorities identified under subsection + (d)(1)(A), the research project agenda established under + subsection (d)(1)(B), the methodological standards developed and + updated by the methodology committee under subsection + (d)(6)(C)(i), and the peer-review process provided under + paragraph (7), and after the release of draft findings with + respect to systematic reviews of existing research and evidence. + ``(2) Additional forums.--The Institute shall support forums + to increase public awareness and obtain and incorporate public + input and feedback through media (such as an Internet website) + on research priorities, research findings, and other duties, + activities, or processes the Institute determines appropriate. + ``(3) Public availability.-- <> The + Institute shall make available to the public and disclose + through the official public Internet website of the Institute + the following: + ``(A) Information contained in research findings as + specified in subsection (d)(9). + ``(B) The process and methods for the conduct of + research, including the identity of the entity and the + investigators conducing such research and any conflicts + of interests of such parties, any direct or indirect + links the entity has to industry, and research + protocols, including measures taken, methods of research + and analysis, research results, and such other + information the Institute determines appropriate) + concurrent with the release of research findings. + ``(C) <> Notice of public comment + periods under paragraph (1), including deadlines for + public comments. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 738]] + + ``(D) Subsequent comments received during each of + the public comment periods. + ``(E) In accordance with applicable laws and + processes and as the Institute determines appropriate, + proceedings of the Institute. + ``(4) Disclosure of conflicts of interest.-- + ``(A) In general.--A conflict of interest shall be + disclosed in the following manner: + ``(i) By the Institute in appointing members + to an expert advisory panel under subsection + (d)(4), in selecting individuals to contribute to + any peer-review process under subsection (d)(7), + and for employment as executive staff of the + Institute. + ``(ii) By the Comptroller General in + appointing members of the methodology committee + under subsection (d)(6); + ``(iii) By the Institute in the annual report + under subsection (d)(10), except that, in the case + of individuals contributing to any such peer + review process, such description shall be in a + manner such that those individuals cannot be + identified with a particular research project. + ``(B) Manner of disclosure.-- <> Conflicts of interest shall be disclosed as + described in subparagraph (A) as soon as practicable on + the Internet web site of the Institute and of the + Government Accountability Office. The information + disclosed under the preceding sentence shall include the + type, nature, and magnitude of the interests of the + individual involved, except to the extent that the + individual recuses himself or herself from participating + in the consideration of or any other activity with + respect to the study as to which the potential conflict + exists. + + ``(i) Rules.--The Institute, its Board or staff, shall be prohibited +from accepting gifts, bequeaths, or donations of services or property. +In addition, the Institute shall be prohibited from establishing a +corporation or generating revenues from activities other than as +provided under this section. + ``(j) Rules of Construction.-- + ``(1) Coverage.--Nothing in this section shall be + construed-- + ``(A) to permit the Institute to mandate coverage, + reimbursement, or other policies for any public or + private payer; or + ``(B) as preventing the Secretary from covering the + routine costs of clinical care received by an individual + entitled to, or enrolled for, benefits under title + XVIII, XIX, or XXI in the case where such individual is + participating in a clinical trial and such costs would + otherwise be covered under such title with respect to + the beneficiary.''. + + (b) Dissemination and Building Capacity for Research.--Title IX of +the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 299 et seq.), as amended by +section 3606, is further amended by inserting after section 936 the +following: + +``SEC. 937. <> DISSEMINATION AND BUILDING + CAPACITY FOR RESEARCH. + + ``(a) In General.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 739]] + + ``(1) Dissemination.--The Office of Communication and + Knowledge Transfer (referred to in this section as the `Office') + at the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality (or any other + relevant office designated by Agency for Healthcare Research and + Quality), in consultation with the National Institutes of + Health, shall broadly disseminate the research findings that are + published by the Patient Centered Outcomes Research Institute + established under section 1181(b) of the Social Security Act + (referred to in this section as the `Institute') and other + government-funded research relevant to comparative clinical + effectiveness research. The Office shall create informational + tools that organize and disseminate research findings for + physicians, health care providers, patients, payers, and policy + makers. <> The Office shall also + develop a publicly available resource database that collects and + contains government-funded evidence and research from public, + private, not-for profit, and academic sources. + ``(2) Requirements.--The Office shall provide for the + dissemination of the Institute's research findings and + government-funded research relevant to comparative clinical + effectiveness research to physicians, health care providers, + patients, vendors of health information technology focused on + clinical decision support, appropriate professional + associations, and Federal and private health plans. Materials, + forums, and media used to disseminate the findings, + informational tools, and resource databases shall-- + ``(A) include a description of considerations for + specific subpopulations, the research methodology, and + the limitations of the research, and the names of the + entities, agencies, instrumentalities, and individuals + who conducted any research which was published by the + Institute; and + ``(B) not be construed as mandates, guidelines, or + recommendations for payment, coverage, or treatment. + + ``(b) Incorporation of Research Findings.--The Office, in +consultation with relevant medical and clinical associations, shall +assist users of health information technology focused on clinical +decision support to promote the timely incorporation of research +findings disseminated under subsection (a) into clinical practices and +to promote the ease of use of such incorporation. + ``(c) Feedback.--The Office shall establish a process to receive +feedback from physicians, health care providers, patients, and vendors +of health information technology focused on clinical decision support, +appropriate professional associations, and Federal and private health +plans about the value of the information disseminated and the assistance +provided under this section. + ``(d) Rule of Construction.--Nothing in this section shall preclude +the Institute from making its research findings publicly available as +required under section 1181(d)(8) of the Social Security Act. + ``(e) Training of Researchers.--The Agency for Health Care Research +and Quality, in consultation with the National Institutes of Health, +shall build capacity for comparative clinical effectiveness research by +establishing a grant program that provides for the training of +researchers in the methods used to conduct such research, including +systematic reviews of existing research and primary research such as +clinical trials. At a minimum, such + +[[Page 124 STAT. 740]] + +training shall be in methods that meet the methodological standards +adopted under section 1181(d)(9) of the Social Security Act. + ``(f) Building Data for Research.--The Secretary shall provide for +the coordination of relevant Federal health programs to build data +capacity for comparative clinical effectiveness research, including the +development and use of clinical registries and health outcomes research +data networks, in order to develop and maintain a comprehensive, +interoperable data network to collect, link, and analyze data on +outcomes and effectiveness from multiple sources, including electronic +health records. + ``(g) Authority To Contract With the Institute.--Agencies and +instrumentalities of the Federal Government may enter into agreements +with the Institute, and accept and retain funds, for the conduct and +support of research described in this part, provided that the research +to be conducted or supported under such agreements is authorized under +the governing statutes of such agencies and instrumentalities.''. + (c) In General.--Part D of title XI of the Social Security Act, as +added by subsection (a), is amended by adding at the end the following +new section: + + + ``limitations on certain uses of comparative clinical effectiveness + research + + + ``Sec. 1182. <> (a) The Secretary may only +use evidence and findings from research conducted under section 1181 to +make a determination regarding coverage under title XVIII if such use is +through an iterative and transparent process which includes public +comment and considers the effect on subpopulations. + + ``(b) Nothing in section 1181 shall be construed as-- + ``(1) superceding or modifying the coverage of items or + services under title XVIII that the Secretary determines are + reasonable and necessary under section 1862(l)(1); or + ``(2) authorizing the Secretary to deny coverage of items or + services under such title solely on the basis of comparative + clinical effectiveness research. + + ``(c)(1) The Secretary shall not use evidence or findings from +comparative clinical effectiveness research conducted under section 1181 +in determining coverage, reimbursement, or incentive programs under +title XVIII in a manner that treats extending the life of an elderly, +disabled, or terminally ill individual as of lower value than extending +the life of an individual who is younger, nondisabled, or not terminally +ill. + ``(2) Paragraph (1) shall not be construed as preventing the +Secretary from using evidence or findings from such comparative clinical +effectiveness research in determining coverage, reimbursement, or +incentive programs under title XVIII based upon a comparison of the +difference in the effectiveness of alternative treatments in extending +an individual's life due to the individual's age, disability, or +terminal illness. + ``(d)(1) The Secretary shall not use evidence or findings from +comparative clinical effectiveness research conducted under section 1181 +in determining coverage, reimbursement, or incentive programs under +title XVIII in a manner that precludes, or with the intent to +discourage, an individual from choosing a health care treatment based on +how the individual values the tradeoff between extending the length of +their life and the risk of disability. + ``(2)(A) Paragraph (1) shall not be construed to-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 741]] + + ``(i) limit the application of differential copayments under + title XVIII based on factors such as cost or type of service; or + ``(ii) prevent the Secretary from using evidence or findings + from such comparative clinical effectiveness research in + determining coverage, reimbursement, or incentive programs under + such title based upon a comparison of the difference in the + effectiveness of alternative health care treatments in extending + an individual's life due to that individual's age, disability, + or terminal illness. + + ``(3) Nothing in the provisions of, or amendments made by the +Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, shall be construed to limit +comparative clinical effectiveness research or any other research, +evaluation, or dissemination of information concerning the likelihood +that a health care treatment will result in disability. + ``(e) The Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Institute established +under section 1181(b)(1) shall not develop or employ a dollars-per- +quality adjusted life year (or similar measure that discounts the value +of a life because of an individual's disability) as a threshold to +establish what type of health care is cost effective or recommended. The +Secretary shall not utilize such an adjusted life year (or such a +similar measure) as a threshold to determine coverage, reimbursement, or +incentive programs under title XVIII.''. + (d) In General.--Part D of title XI of the Social Security Act, as +added by subsection (a) and amended by subsection (c), is amended by +adding at the end the following new section: + + + ``trust fund transfers to patient-centered outcomes research trust fund + + + ``Sec. 1183. <> (a) In General.--The +Secretary shall provide for the transfer, from the Federal Hospital +Insurance Trust Fund under section 1817 and the Federal Supplementary +Medical Insurance Trust Fund under section 1841, in proportion (as +estimated by the Secretary) to the total expenditures during such fiscal +year that are made under title XVIII from the respective trust fund, to +the Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Trust Fund (referred to in this +section as the `PCORTF') under section 9511 of the Internal Revenue Code +of 1986, of the following: + ``(1) For fiscal year 2013, an amount equal to $1 multiplied + by the average number of individuals entitled to benefits under + part A, or enrolled under part B, of title XVIII during such + fiscal year. + ``(2) For each of fiscal years 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, + and 2019, an amount equal to $2 multiplied by the average number + of individuals entitled to benefits under part A, or enrolled + under part B, of title XVIII during such fiscal year. + + ``(b) Adjustments for Increases in Health Care Spending.--In the +case of any fiscal year beginning after September 30, 2014, the dollar +amount in effect under subsection (a)(2) for such fiscal year shall be +equal to the sum of such dollar amount for the previous fiscal year +(determined after the application of this subsection), plus an amount +equal to the product of-- + ``(1) such dollar amount for the previous fiscal year, + multiplied by + ``(2) the percentage increase in the projected per capita + amount of National Health Expenditures, as most recently + published by the Secretary before the beginning of the fiscal + year.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 742]] + + (e) Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Trust Fund; Financing for +Trust Fund.-- + (1) Establishment of trust fund.-- + (A) In general.--Subchapter A of chapter 98 of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (relating to establishment + of trust funds) is amended by adding at the end the + following new section: + +``SEC. 9511. <> PATIENT-CENTERED OUTCOMES RESEARCH + TRUST FUND. + + ``(a) Creation of Trust Fund.--There is established in the Treasury +of the United States a trust fund to be known as the `Patient-Centered +Outcomes Research Trust Fund' (hereafter in this section referred to as +the `PCORTF'), consisting of such amounts as may be appropriated or +credited to such Trust Fund as provided in this section and section +9602(b). + ``(b) Transfers to Fund.-- + ``(1) Appropriation.--There are hereby appropriated to the + Trust Fund the following: + ``(A) For fiscal year 2010, $10,000,000. + ``(B) For fiscal year 2011, $50,000,000. + ``(C) For fiscal year 2012, $150,000,000. + ``(D) For fiscal year 2013-- + ``(i) an amount equivalent to the net revenues + received in the Treasury from the fees imposed + under subchapter B of chapter 34 (relating to fees + on health insurance and self-insured plans) for + such fiscal year; and + ``(ii) $150,000,000. + ``(E) For each of fiscal years 2014, 2015, 2016, + 2017, 2018, and 2019-- + ``(i) an amount equivalent to the net revenues + received in the Treasury from the fees imposed + under subchapter B of chapter 34 (relating to fees + on health insurance and self-insured plans) for + such fiscal year; and + ``(ii) $150,000,000. + The amounts appropriated under subparagraphs (A), (B), + (C), (D)(ii), and (E)(ii) shall be transferred from the + general fund of the Treasury, from funds not otherwise + appropriated. + ``(2) Trust fund transfers.--In addition to the amounts + appropriated under paragraph (1), there shall be credited to the + PCORTF the amounts transferred under section 1183 of the Social + Security Act. + ``(3) Limitation on transfers to pcortf.--No amount may be + appropriated or transferred to the PCORTF on and after the date + of any expenditure from the PCORTF which is not an expenditure + permitted under this section. The determination of whether an + expenditure is so permitted shall be made without regard to-- + ``(A) any provision of law which is not contained or + referenced in this chapter or in a revenue Act, and + ``(B) whether such provision of law is a + subsequently enacted provision or directly or indirectly + seeks to waive the application of this paragraph. + + ``(c) Trustee.--The Secretary of the Treasury shall be a trustee of +the PCORTF. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 743]] + + ``(d) Expenditures From Fund.-- + ``(1) Amounts available to the patient-centered outcomes + research institute.--Subject to paragraph (2), amounts in the + PCORTF are available, without further appropriation, to the + Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Institute established under + section 1181(b) of the Social Security Act for carrying out part + D of title XI of the Social Security Act (as in effect on the + date of enactment of such Act). + ``(2) Transfer of funds.-- + ``(A) In general.--The trustee of the PCORTF shall + provide for the transfer from the PCORTF of 20 percent + of the amounts appropriated or credited to the PCORTF + for each of fiscal years 2011 through 2019 to the + Secretary of Health and Human Services to carry out + section 937 of the Public Health Service Act. + ``(B) Availability.--Amounts transferred under + subparagraph (A) shall remain available until expended. + ``(C) Requirements.--Of the amounts transferred + under subparagraph (A) with respect to a fiscal year, + the Secretary of Health and Human Services shall + distribute-- + ``(i) 80 percent to the Office of + Communication and Knowledge Transfer of the Agency + for Healthcare Research and Quality (or any other + relevant office designated by Agency for + Healthcare Research and Quality) to carry out the + activities described in section 937 of the Public + Health Service Act; and + ``(ii) 20 percent to the Secretary to carry + out the activities described in such section 937. + + ``(e) Net Revenues.-- <> For purposes of this +section, the term `net revenues' means the amount estimated by the +Secretary of the Treasury based on the excess of-- + ``(1) the fees received in the Treasury under subchapter B + of chapter 34, over + ``(2) the decrease in the tax imposed by chapter 1 resulting + from the fees imposed by such subchapter. + + ``(f) Termination.--No amounts shall be available for expenditure +from the PCORTF after September 30, 2019, and any amounts in such Trust +Fund after such date shall be transferred to the general fund of the +Treasury.''. + (B) Clerical amendment.--The table of sections for + subchapter A of chapter 98 of such Code is amended by + adding at the end the following new item: + +``Sec. 9511. Patient-centered outcomes research trust fund.''. + + (2) Financing for fund from fees on insured and self-insured + health plans.-- + (A) General rule.--Chapter 34 of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 is amended by adding at the end the + following new subchapter: + + ``Subchapter B--Insured and Self-Insured Health Plans + +``Sec. 4375. Health insurance. +``Sec. 4376. Self-insured health plans. +``Sec. 4377. Definitions and special rules. + +``SEC. 4375. <> HEALTH INSURANCE. + + ``(a) Imposition of Fee.--There is hereby imposed on each specified +health insurance policy for each policy year ending after + +[[Page 124 STAT. 744]] + +September 30, 2012, a fee equal to the product of $2 ($1 in the case of +policy years ending during fiscal year 2013) multiplied by the average +number of lives covered under the policy. + ``(b) Liability for Fee.--The fee imposed by subsection (a) shall be +paid by the issuer of the policy. + ``(c) Specified Health Insurance Policy.--For purposes of this +section: + ``(1) In general.-- <> Except as + otherwise provided in this section, the term `specified health + insurance policy' means any accident or health insurance policy + (including a policy under a group health plan) issued with + respect to individuals residing in the United States. + ``(2) Exemption for certain policies.--The term `specified + health insurance policy' does not include any insurance if + substantially all of its coverage is of excepted benefits + described in section 9832(c). + ``(3) Treatment of prepaid health coverage arrangements.-- + ``(A) In general.--In the case of any arrangement + described in subparagraph (B), such arrangement shall be + treated as a specified health insurance policy, and the + person referred to in such subparagraph shall be treated + as the issuer. + ``(B) Description of arrangements.--An arrangement + is described in this subparagraph if under such + arrangement fixed payments or premiums are received as + consideration for any person's agreement to provide or + arrange for the provision of accident or health coverage + to residents of the United States, regardless of how + such coverage is provided or arranged to be provided. + + ``(d) Adjustments for Increases in Health Care Spending.--In the +case of any policy year ending in any fiscal year beginning after +September 30, 2014, the dollar amount in effect under subsection (a) for +such policy year shall be equal to the sum of such dollar amount for +policy years ending in the previous fiscal year (determined after the +application of this subsection), plus an amount equal to the product +of-- + ``(1) such dollar amount for policy years ending in the + previous fiscal year, multiplied by + ``(2) the percentage increase in the projected per capita + amount of National Health Expenditures, as most recently + published by the Secretary before the beginning of the fiscal + year. + + ``(e) Termination.--This section shall not apply to policy years +ending after September 30, 2019. + +``SEC. 4376. <> SELF-INSURED HEALTH PLANS. + + ``(a) Imposition of Fee.--In the case of any applicable self-insured +health plan for each plan year ending after September 30, 2012, there is +hereby imposed a fee equal to $2 ($1 in the case of plan years ending +during fiscal year 2013) multiplied by the average number of lives +covered under the plan. + ``(b) Liability for Fee.-- + ``(1) In general.--The fee imposed by subsection (a) shall + be paid by the plan sponsor. + ``(2) Plan sponsor.-- <> For purposes of + paragraph (1) the term `plan sponsor' means-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 745]] + + ``(A) the employer in the case of a plan established + or maintained by a single employer, + ``(B) the employee organization in the case of a + plan established or maintained by an employee + organization, + ``(C) in the case of-- + ``(i) a plan established or maintained by 2 or + more employers or jointly by 1 or more employers + and 1 or more employee organizations, + ``(ii) a multiple employer welfare + arrangement, or + ``(iii) a voluntary employees' beneficiary + association described in section 501(c)(9), the + association, committee, joint board of trustees, + or other similar group of representatives of the + parties who establish or maintain the plan, or + ``(D) the cooperative or association described in + subsection (c)(2)(F) in the case of a plan established + or maintained by such a cooperative or association. + + ``(c) Applicable Self-insured Health Plan.-- +<> For purposes of this section, the term `applicable +self-insured health plan' means any plan for providing accident or +health coverage if-- + ``(1) any portion of such coverage is provided other than + through an insurance policy, and + ``(2) such plan is established or maintained-- + ``(A) by 1 or more employers for the benefit of + their employees or former employees, + ``(B) by 1 or more employee organizations for the + benefit of their members or former members, + ``(C) jointly by 1 or more employers and 1 or more + employee organizations for the benefit of employees or + former employees, + ``(D) by a voluntary employees' beneficiary + association described in section 501(c)(9), + ``(E) by any organization described in section + 501(c)(6), or + ``(F) in the case of a plan not described in the + preceding subparagraphs, by a multiple employer welfare + arrangement (as defined in section 3(40) of Employee + Retirement Income Security Act of 1974), a rural + electric cooperative (as defined in section 3(40)(B)(iv) + of such Act), or a rural telephone cooperative + association (as defined in section 3(40)(B)(v) of such + Act). + + ``(d) Adjustments for Increases in Health Care Spending.--In the +case of any plan year ending in any fiscal year beginning after +September 30, 2014, the dollar amount in effect under subsection (a) for +such plan year shall be equal to the sum of such dollar amount for plan +years ending in the previous fiscal year (determined after the +application of this subsection), plus an amount equal to the product +of-- + ``(1) such dollar amount for plan years ending in the + previous fiscal year, multiplied by + ``(2) the percentage increase in the projected per capita + amount of National Health Expenditures, as most recently + published by the Secretary before the beginning of the fiscal + year. + + ``(e) Termination.--This section shall not apply to plan years +ending after September 30, 2019. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 746]] + +``SEC. 4377. <> DEFINITIONS AND SPECIAL RULES. + + ``(a) Definitions.--For purposes of this subchapter-- + ``(1) Accident and health coverage.--The term `accident and + health coverage' means any coverage which, if provided by an + insurance policy, would cause such policy to be a specified + health insurance policy (as defined in section 4375(c)). + ``(2) Insurance policy.--The term `insurance policy' means + any policy or other instrument whereby a contract of insurance + is issued, renewed, or extended. + ``(3) United states.--The term `United States' includes any + possession of the United States. + + ``(b) Treatment of Governmental Entities.-- + ``(1) In general.--For purposes of this subchapter-- + ``(A) the term `person' includes any governmental + entity, and + ``(B) notwithstanding any other law or rule of law, + governmental entities shall not be exempt from the fees + imposed by this subchapter except as provided in + paragraph (2). + ``(2) Treatment of exempt governmental programs.--In the + case of an exempt governmental program, no fee shall be imposed + under section 4375 or section 4376 on any covered life under + such program. + ``(3) Exempt governmental program defined.--For purposes of + this subchapter, the term `exempt governmental program' means-- + ``(A) any insurance program established under title + XVIII of the Social Security Act, + ``(B) the medical assistance program established by + title XIX or XXI of the Social Security Act, + ``(C) any program established by Federal law for + providing medical care (other than through insurance + policies) to individuals (or the spouses and dependents + thereof) by reason of such individuals being members of + the Armed Forces of the United States or veterans, and + ``(D) any program established by Federal law for + providing medical care (other than through insurance + policies) to members of Indian tribes (as defined in + section 4(d) of the Indian Health Care Improvement Act). + + ``(c) Treatment as Tax.--For purposes of subtitle F, the fees +imposed by this subchapter shall be treated as if they were taxes. + ``(d) No Cover Over to Possessions.--Notwithstanding any other +provision of law, no amount collected under this subchapter shall be +covered over to any possession of the United States.''. + (B) Clerical amendments.-- + (i) Chapter 34 of such Code is amended by + striking the chapter heading and inserting the + following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 747]] + + ``CHAPTER 34--TAXES ON CERTAIN INSURANCE POLICIES + + ``subchapter a. policies issued by foreign insurers + + ``subchapter b. insured and self-insured health plans + + ``Subchapter A--Policies Issued By Foreign Insurers''. + + (ii) The table of chapters for subtitle D of + such Code is amended by striking the item relating + to chapter 34 and inserting the following new + item: + + ``Chapter 34--Taxes on Certain Insurance Policies''. + + (f) Tax-exempt Status of the Patient-centered Outcomes Research +Institute.--Subsection 501(l) of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986 <> is amended by adding at the end the following +new paragraph: + ``(4) The Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Institute + established under section 1181(b) of the Social Security Act.''. + +SEC. 6302. <> FEDERAL COORDINATING COUNCIL + FOR COMPARATIVE EFFECTIVENESS RESEARCH. + + <> Notwithstanding any other provision of +law, the Federal Coordinating Council for Comparative Effectiveness +Research established under section 804 of Division A of the American +Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 (42 U.S.C. 299b-8), including the +requirement under subsection (e)(2) of such section, shall terminate on +the date of enactment of this Act. + + Subtitle E--Medicare, Medicaid, and CHIP Program Integrity Provisions + +SEC. 6401. PROVIDER SCREENING AND OTHER ENROLLMENT REQUIREMENTS UNDER + MEDICARE, MEDICAID, AND CHIP. + + (a) Medicare.--Section 1866(j) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395cc(j)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1)(A), by adding at the end the following: + ``Such process shall include screening of providers and + suppliers in accordance with paragraph (2), a provisional period + of enhanced oversight in accordance with paragraph (3), + disclosure requirements in accordance with paragraph (4), the + imposition of temporary enrollment moratoria in accordance with + paragraph (5), and the establishment of compliance programs in + accordance with paragraph (6).''; + (2) by redesignating paragraph (2) as paragraph (7); and + (3) by inserting after paragraph (1) the following: + ``(2) Provider screening.-- + ``(A) Procedures.-- <> Not later + than 180 days after the date of enactment of this + paragraph, the Secretary, in consultation with the + Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human + Services, shall establish procedures under which + screening is conducted with respect to providers of + medical or other items or services and suppliers under + the program under this title, the Medicaid program under + title XIX, and the CHIP program under title XXI. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 748]] + + ``(B) Level of screening.-- + <> The Secretary shall determine + the level of screening conducted under this paragraph + according to the risk of fraud, waste, and abuse, as + determined by the Secretary, with respect to the + category of provider of medical or other items or + services or supplier. Such screening-- + ``(i) shall include a licensure check, which + may include such checks across States; and + ``(ii) may, as the Secretary determines + appropriate based on the risk of fraud, waste, and + abuse described in the preceding sentence, + include-- + ``(I) a criminal background check; + ``(II) fingerprinting; + ``(III) unscheduled and unannounced + site visits, including preenrollment + site visits; + ``(IV) database checks (including + such checks across States); and + ``(V) such other screening as the + Secretary determines appropriate. + ``(C) Application fees.-- + ``(i) Individual providers.--Except as + provided in clause (iii), the Secretary shall + impose a fee on each individual provider of + medical or other items or services or supplier + (such as a physician, physician assistant, nurse + practitioner, or clinical nurse specialist) with + respect to which screening is conducted under this + paragraph in an amount equal to-- + ``(I) for 2010, $200; and + ``(II) for 2011 and each subsequent + year, the amount determined under this + clause for the preceding year, adjusted + by the percentage change in the consumer + price index for all urban consumers (all + items; United States city average) for + the 12-month period ending with June of + the previous year. + ``(ii) Institutional providers.--Except as + provided in clause (iii), the Secretary shall + impose a fee on each institutional provider of + medical or other items or services or supplier + (such as a hospital or skilled nursing facility) + with respect to which screening is conducted under + this paragraph in an amount equal to-- + ``(I) for 2010, $500; and + ``(II) for 2011 and each subsequent + year, the amount determined under this + clause for the preceding year, adjusted + by the percentage change in the consumer + price index for all urban consumers (all + items; United States city average) for + the 12-month period ending with June of + the previous year. + ``(iii) Hardship exception; waiver for certain + medicaid providers.-- <> The + Secretary may, on a case-by-case basis, exempt a + provider of medical or other items or services or + supplier from the imposition of an application fee + under this subparagraph if the Secretary + determines that the imposition of the application + fee would result in a hardship. The Secretary may + +[[Page 124 STAT. 749]] + + waive the application fee under this subparagraph + for providers enrolled in a State Medicaid program + for whom the State demonstrates that imposition of + the fee would impede beneficiary access to care. + ``(iv) Use of funds.--Amounts collected as a + result of the imposition of a fee under this + subparagraph shall be used by the Secretary for + program integrity efforts, including to cover the + costs of conducting screening under this paragraph + and to carry out this subsection and section + 1128J. + ``(D) Application and enforcement.-- + ``(i) New providers of services and + suppliers.--The screening under this paragraph + shall apply, in the case of a provider of medical + or other items or services or supplier who is not + enrolled in the program under this title, title + XIX , or title XXI as of the date of enactment of + this paragraph, on or after the date that is 1 + year after such date of enactment. + ``(ii) Current providers of services and + suppliers.--The screening under this paragraph + shall apply, in the case of a provider of medical + or other items or services or supplier who is + enrolled in the program under this title, title + XIX, or title XXI as of such date of enactment, on + or after the date that is 2 years after such date + of enactment. + ``(iii) Revalidation of enrollment.-- + <> Effective beginning on + the date that is 180 days after such date of + enactment, the screening under this paragraph + shall apply with respect to the revalidation of + enrollment of a provider of medical or other items + or services or supplier in the program under this + title, title XIX, or title XXI. + ``(iv) Limitation on enrollment and + revalidation of enrollment.--In no case may a + provider of medical or other items or services or + supplier who has not been screened under this + paragraph be initially enrolled or reenrolled in + the program under this title, title XIX, or title + XXI on or after the date that is 3 years after + such date of enactment. + ``(E) Expedited rulemaking.--The Secretary may + promulgate an interim final rule to carry out this + paragraph. + ``(3) Provisional period of enhanced oversight for new + providers of services and suppliers.-- + ``(A) In general.-- <> The + Secretary shall establish procedures to provide for a + provisional period of not less than 30 days and not more + than 1 year during which new providers of medical or + other items or services and suppliers, as the Secretary + determines appropriate, including categories of + providers or suppliers, would be subject to enhanced + oversight, such as prepayment review and payment caps, + under the program under this title, the Medicaid program + under title XIX. and the CHIP program under title XXI. + ``(B) Implementation.--The Secretary may establish + by program instruction or otherwise the procedures under + this paragraph. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 750]] + + ``(4) Increased disclosure requirements.-- + ``(A) Disclosure.--A provider of medical or other + items or services or supplier who submits an application + for enrollment or revalidation of enrollment in the + program under this title, title XIX, or title XXI on or + after the date that is 1 year after the date of + enactment of this paragraph shall disclose (in a form + and manner and at such time as determined by the + Secretary) any current or previous affiliation (directly + or indirectly) with a provider of medical or other items + or services or supplier that has uncollected debt, has + been or is subject to a payment suspension under a + Federal health care program (as defined in section + 1128B(f)), has been excluded from participation under + the program under this title, the Medicaid program under + title XIX, or the CHIP program under title XXI, or has + had its billing privileges denied or revoked. + ``(B) Authority to deny enrollment.-- + <> If the Secretary determines + that such previous affiliation poses an undue risk of + fraud, waste, or abuse, the Secretary may deny such + application. Such a denial shall be subject to appeal in + accordance with paragraph (7). + ``(5) Authority to adjust payments of providers of services + and suppliers with the same tax identification number for past- + due obligations.-- + ``(A) In general.--Notwithstanding any other + provision of this title, in the case of an applicable + provider of services or supplier, the Secretary may make + any necessary adjustments to payments to the applicable + provider of services or supplier under the program under + this title in order to satisfy any past-due obligations + described in subparagraph (B)(ii) of an obligated + provider of services or supplier. + ``(B) Definitions.--In this paragraph: + ``(i) In general.--The term `applicable + provider of services or supplier' means a provider + of services or supplier that has the same taxpayer + identification number assigned under section 6109 + of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 as is + assigned to the obligated provider of services or + supplier under such section, regardless of whether + the applicable provider of services or supplier is + assigned a different billing number or national + provider identification number under the program + under this title than is assigned to the obligated + provider of services or supplier. + ``(ii) Obligated provider of services or + supplier.--The term `obligated provider of + services or supplier' means a provider of services + or supplier that owes a past-due obligation under + the program under this title (as determined by the + Secretary). + ``(6) Temporary moratorium on enrollment of new providers.-- + ``(A) In general.-- <> The + Secretary may impose a temporary moratorium on the + enrollment of new providers of services and suppliers, + including categories of providers of services and + suppliers, in the program under this title, under the + Medicaid program under title XIX, or under + +[[Page 124 STAT. 751]] + + the CHIP program under title XXI if the Secretary + determines such moratorium is necessary to prevent or + combat fraud, waste, or abuse under either such program. + ``(B) Limitation on review.--There shall be no + judicial review under section 1869, section 1878, or + otherwise, of a temporary moratorium imposed under + subparagraph (A). + ``(7) Compliance programs.-- + ``(A) In general.--On or after the date of + implementation determined by the Secretary under + subparagraph (C), a provider of medical or other items + or services or supplier within a particular industry + sector or category shall, as a condition of enrollment + in the program under this title, title XIX, or title + XXI, establish a compliance program that contains the + core elements established under subparagraph (B) with + respect to that provider or supplier and industry or + category. + ``(B) Establishment of core elements.--The + Secretary, in consultation with the Inspector General of + the Department of Health and Human Services, shall + establish core elements for a compliance program under + subparagraph (A) for providers or suppliers within a + particular industry or category. + ``(C) Timeline for implementation.-- + <> The Secretary shall determine + the timeline for the establishment of the core elements + under subparagraph (B) and the date of the + implementation of subparagraph (A) for providers or + suppliers within a particular industry or category. The + Secretary shall, in determining such date of + implementation, consider the extent to which the + adoption of compliance programs by a provider of medical + or other items or services or supplier is widespread in + a particular industry sector or with respect to a + particular provider or supplier category.''. + + (b) Medicaid.-- + (1) State plan amendment.--Section 1902(a) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)), as amended by section + 4302(b), is amended-- + (A) in subsection (a)-- + (i) by striking ``and'' at the end of + paragraph (75); + (ii) by striking the period at the end of + paragraph (76) and inserting a semicolon; and + (iii) by inserting after paragraph (76) the + following: + ``(77) provide that the State shall comply with provider and + supplier screening, oversight, and reporting requirements in + accordance with subsection (ii);''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(ii) Provider and Supplier Screening, Oversight, and Reporting +Requirements.--For purposes of subsection (a)(77), the requirements of +this subsection are the following: + ``(1) Screening.--The State complies with the process for + screening providers and suppliers under this title, as + established by the Secretary under section 1886(j)(2). + ``(2) Provisional period of enhanced oversight for new + providers and suppliers.--The State complies with procedures to + provide for a provisional period of enhanced oversight for new + providers and suppliers under this title, as established by the + Secretary under section 1886(j)(3). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 752]] + + ``(3) Disclosure requirements.--The State requires providers + and suppliers under the State plan or under a waiver of the plan + to comply with the disclosure requirements established by the + Secretary under section 1886(j)(4). + ``(4) Temporary moratorium on enrollment of new providers or + suppliers.-- + ``(A) Temporary moratorium imposed by the + secretary.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), the + State complies with any temporary moratorium on + the enrollment of new providers or suppliers + imposed by the Secretary under section 1886(j)(6). + ``(ii) Exception.-- <> A + State shall not be required to comply with a + temporary moratorium described in clause (i) if + the State determines that the imposition of such + temporary moratorium would adversely impact + beneficiaries' access to medical assistance. + ``(B) Moratorium on enrollment of providers and + suppliers.-- <> At the option of + the State, the State imposes, for purposes of entering + into participation agreements with providers or + suppliers under the State plan or under a waiver of the + plan, periods of enrollment moratoria, or numerical caps + or other limits, for providers or suppliers identified + by the Secretary as being at high-risk for fraud, waste, + or abuse as necessary to combat fraud, waste, or abuse, + but only if the State determines that the imposition of + any such period, cap, or other limits would not + adversely impact beneficiaries' access to medical + assistance. + ``(5) Compliance programs.--The State requires providers and + suppliers under the State plan or under a waiver of the plan to + establish, in accordance with the requirements of section + 1866(j)(7), a compliance program that contains the core elements + established under subparagraph (B) of that section 1866(j)(7) + for providers or suppliers within a particular industry or + category. + ``(6) Reporting of adverse provider actions.--The State + complies with the national system for reporting criminal and + civil convictions, sanctions, negative licensure actions, and + other adverse provider actions to the Secretary, through the + Administrator of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, + in accordance with regulations of the Secretary. + ``(7) Enrollment and npi of ordering or referring + providers.--The State requires-- + ``(A) all ordering or referring physicians or other + professionals to be enrolled under the State plan or + under a waiver of the plan as a participating provider; + and + ``(B) the national provider identifier of any + ordering or referring physician or other professional to + be specified on any claim for payment that is based on + an order or referral of the physician or other + professional. + ``(8) Other state oversight.--Nothing in this subsection + shall be interpreted to preclude or limit the ability of a State + to engage in provider and supplier screening or enhanced + provider and supplier oversight activities beyond those required + by the Secretary.''. + (2) <> Disclosure of medicare + terminated providers and suppliers to states.--The Administrator + of the Centers for + +[[Page 124 STAT. 753]] + + Medicare & Medicaid Services shall establish a process for + making available to the each State agency with responsibility + for administering a State Medicaid plan (or a waiver of such + plan) under title XIX of the Social Security Act or a child + health plan under title XXI the name, national provider + identifier, and other identifying information for any provider + of medical or other items or services or supplier under the + Medicare program under title XVIII or under the CHIP program + under title XXI that is terminated from participation under that + program within 30 days of the termination (and, with respect to + all such providers or suppliers who are terminated from the + Medicare program on the date of enactment of this Act, within 90 + days of such date). + (3) Conforming amendment.--Section 1902(a)(23) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a), is amended by inserting before + the semicolon at the end the following: ``or by a provider or + supplier to which a moratorium under subsection (ii)(4) is + applied during the period of such moratorium''. + + (c) CHIP.--Section 2107(e)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1397gg(e)(1)), as amended by section 2101(d), is amended-- + (1) by redesignating subparagraphs (D) through (M) as + subparagraphs (E) through (N), respectively; and + (2) by inserting after subparagraph (C), the following: + ``(D) Subsections (a)(77) and (ii) of section 1902 + (relating to provider and supplier screening, oversight, + and reporting requirements).''. + +SEC. 6402. ENHANCED MEDICARE AND MEDICAID PROGRAM INTEGRITY PROVISIONS. + + (a) In General.--Part A of title XI of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1301 et seq.), as amended by sections 6002, 6004, and 6102, is +amended by inserting after section 1128I the following new section: + +``SEC. 1128J. <> MEDICARE AND MEDICAID PROGRAM + INTEGRITY PROVISIONS. + + ``(a) Data Matching.-- + ``(1) Integrated data repository.-- + ``(A) Inclusion of certain data.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Integrated Data + Repository of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid + Services shall include, at a minimum, claims and + payment data from the following: + ``(I) The programs under titles + XVIII and XIX (including parts A, B, C, + and D of title XVIII). + ``(II) The program under title XXI. + ``(III) Health-related programs + administered by the Secretary of + Veterans Affairs. + ``(IV) Health-related programs + administered by the Secretary of + Defense. + ``(V) The program of old-age, + survivors, and disability insurance + benefits established under title II. + ``(VI) The Indian Health Service and + the Contract Health Service program. + ``(ii) Priority for inclusion of certain + data.--Inclusion of the data described in + subclause (I) of such clause in the Integrated + Data Repository shall be a + +[[Page 124 STAT. 754]] + + priority. Data described in subclauses (II) + through (VI) of such clause shall be included in + the Integrated Data Repository as appropriate. + ``(B) Data sharing and matching.-- + ``(i) In general.-- <> The + Secretary shall enter into agreements with the + individuals described in clause (ii) under which + such individuals share and match data in the + system of records of the respective agencies of + such individuals with data in the system of + records of the Department of Health and Human + Services for the purpose of identifying potential + fraud, waste, and abuse under the programs under + titles XVIII and XIX. + ``(ii) Individuals described.--The following + individuals are described in this clause: + ``(I) The Commissioner of Social + Security. + ``(II) The Secretary of Veterans + Affairs. + ``(III) The Secretary of Defense. + ``(IV) The Director of the Indian + Health Service. + ``(iii) Definition of system of records.--For + purposes of this paragraph, the term `system of + records' has the meaning given such term in + section 552a(a)(5) of title 5, United States Code. + ``(2) Access to claims and payment databases.--For purposes + of conducting law enforcement and oversight activities and to + the extent consistent with applicable information, privacy, + security, and disclosure laws, including the regulations + promulgated under the Health Insurance Portability and + Accountability Act of 1996 and section 552a of title 5, United + States Code, and subject to any information systems security + requirements under such laws or otherwise required by the + Secretary, the Inspector General of the Department of Health and + Human Services and the Attorney General shall have access to + claims and payment data of the Department of Health and Human + Services and its contractors related to titles XVIII, XIX, and + XXI. + + ``(b) OIG Authority To Obtain Information.-- + ``(1) In general.--Notwithstanding and in addition to any + other provision of law, the Inspector General of the Department + of Health and Human Services may, for purposes of protecting the + integrity of the programs under titles XVIII and XIX, obtain + information from any individual (including a beneficiary + provided all applicable privacy protections are followed) or + entity that-- + ``(A) is a provider of medical or other items or + services, supplier, grant recipient, contractor, or + subcontractor; or + ``(B) directly or indirectly provides, orders, + manufactures, distributes, arranges for, prescribes, + supplies, or receives medical or other items or services + payable by any Federal health care program (as defined + in section 1128B(f)) regardless of how the item or + service is paid for, or to whom such payment is made. + ``(2) Inclusion of certain information.--Information which + the Inspector General may obtain under paragraph (1) includes + any supporting documentation necessary to validate claims for + payment or payments under title XVIII or XIX, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 755]] + + including a prescribing physician's medical records for an + individual who is prescribed an item or service which is covered + under part B of title XVIII, a covered part D drug (as defined + in section 1860D-2(e)) for which payment is made under an MA-PD + plan under part C of such title, or a prescription drug plan + under part D of such title, and any records necessary for + evaluation of the economy, efficiency, and effectiveness of the + programs under titles XVIII and XIX. + + ``(c) Administrative Remedy for Knowing Participation by Beneficiary +in Health Care Fraud Scheme.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> In addition to any + other applicable remedies, if an applicable individual has + knowingly participated in a Federal health care fraud offense or + a conspiracy to commit a Federal health care fraud offense, the + Secretary shall impose an appropriate administrative penalty + commensurate with the offense or conspiracy. + ``(2) Applicable individual.-- <> For + purposes of paragraph (1), the term `applicable individual' + means an individual-- + ``(A) entitled to, or enrolled for, benefits under + part A of title XVIII or enrolled under part B of such + title; + ``(B) eligible for medical assistance under a State + plan under title XIX or under a waiver of such plan; or + ``(C) eligible for child health assistance under a + child health plan under title XXI. + + ``(d) Reporting and Returning of Overpayments.-- + ``(1) In general.--If a person has received an overpayment, + the person shall-- + ``(A) report and return the overpayment to the + Secretary, the State, an intermediary, a carrier, or a + contractor, as appropriate, at the correct address; and + ``(B) <> notify the Secretary, + State, intermediary, carrier, or contractor to whom the + overpayment was returned in writing of the reason for + the overpayment. + ``(2) Deadline for reporting and returning overpayments.--An + overpayment must be reported and returned under paragraph (1) by + the later of-- + ``(A) the date which is 60 days after the date on + which the overpayment was identified; or + ``(B) the date any corresponding cost report is due, + if applicable. + ``(3) Enforcement.--Any overpayment retained by a person + after the deadline for reporting and returning the overpayment + under paragraph (2) is an obligation (as defined in section + 3729(b)(3) of title 31, United States Code) for purposes of + section 3729 of such title. + ``(4) Definitions.--In this subsection: + ``(A) Knowing and knowingly.--The terms `knowing' + and `knowingly' have the meaning given those terms in + section 3729(b) of title 31, United States Code. + ``(B) Overpayment.--The term ``overpayment'' means + any funds that a person receives or retains under title + XVIII or XIX to which the person, after applicable + reconciliation, is not entitled under such title. + ``(C) Person.-- + ``(i) In general.--The term `person' means a + provider of services, supplier, medicaid managed + care organization (as defined in section + 1903(m)(1)(A)), + +[[Page 124 STAT. 756]] + + Medicare Advantage organization (as defined in + section 1859(a)(1)), or PDP sponsor (as defined in + section 1860D-41(a)(13)). + ``(ii) Exclusion.--Such term does not include + a beneficiary. + + ``(e) Inclusion of National Provider Identifier on All Applications +and Claims.-- <> The Secretary shall +promulgate a regulation that requires, not later than January 1, 2011, +all providers of medical or other items or services and suppliers under +the programs under titles XVIII and XIX that qualify for a national +provider identifier to include their national provider identifier on all +applications to enroll in such programs and on all claims for payment +submitted under such programs.''. + + (b) Access to Data.-- + (1) Medicare part d.--Section 1860D-15(f)(2) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-116(f)(2)) <> is amended by striking ``may be used by'' and all that + follows through the period at the end and inserting ``may be + used-- + ``(A) by officers, employees, and contractors of the + Department of Health and Human Services for the purposes + of, and to the extent necessary in-- + ``(i) carrying out this section; and + ``(ii) conducting oversight, evaluation, and + enforcement under this title; and + ``(B) by the Attorney General and the Comptroller + General of the United States for the purposes of, and to + the extent necessary in, carrying out health oversight + activities.''. + (2) Data matching.--Section 552a(a)(8)(B) of title 5, United + States Code, is amended-- + (A) in clause (vii), by striking ``or'' at the end; + (B) in clause (viii), by inserting ``or'' after the + semicolon; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(ix) matches performed by the Secretary of + Health and Human Services or the Inspector General + of the Department of Health and Human Services + with respect to potential fraud, waste, and abuse, + including matches of a system of records with non- + Federal records;''. + (3) Matching agreements with the commissioner of social + security.--Section 205(r) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 405(r)) is amended by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(9)(A) The Commissioner of Social Security shall, upon the + request of the Secretary or the Inspector General of the + Department of Health and Human Services-- + ``(i) <> enter into an agreement + with the Secretary or such Inspector General for the + purpose of matching data in the system of records of the + Social Security Administration and the system of records + of the Department of Health and Human Services; and + ``(ii) include in such agreement safeguards to + assure the maintenance of the confidentiality of any + information disclosed. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 757]] + + ``(B) For purposes of this paragraph, the term `system of + records' has the meaning given such term in section 552a(a)(5) + of title 5, United States Code.''. + + (c) Withholding of Federal Matching Payments for States That Fail To +Report Enrollee Encounter Data in the Medicaid Statistical Information +System.--Section 1903(i) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396b(i)) +is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (23), by striking ``or'' at the end; + (2) in paragraph (24), by striking the period at the end and + inserting ``; or''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following new paragraph:. + ``(25) with respect to any amounts expended for medical + assistance for individuals for whom the State does not report + enrollee encounter data (as defined by the Secretary) to the + Medicaid Statistical Information System (MSIS) in a timely + manner (as determined by the Secretary).''. + + (d) Permissive Exclusions and Civil Monetary Penalties.-- + (1) Permissive exclusions.--Section 1128(b) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7(b)) is amended by adding at the + end the following new paragraph: + ``(16) Making false statements or misrepresentation of + material facts.--Any individual or entity that knowingly makes + or causes to be made any false statement, omission, or + misrepresentation of a material fact in any application, + agreement, bid, or contract to participate or enroll as a + provider of services or supplier under a Federal health care + program (as defined in section 1128B(f)), including Medicare + Advantage organizations under part C of title XVIII, + prescription drug plan sponsors under part D of title XVIII, + medicaid managed care organizations under title XIX, and + entities that apply to participate as providers of services or + suppliers in such managed care organizations and such plans.''. + (2) Civil monetary penalties.-- + (A) In general.--Section 1128A(a) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7a(a)) is amended-- + (i) in paragraph (1)(D), by striking ``was + excluded'' and all that follows through the period + at the end and inserting ``was excluded from the + Federal health care program (as defined in section + 1128B(f)) under which the claim was made pursuant + to Federal law.''; + (ii) in paragraph (6), by striking ``or'' at + the end; + (iii) by inserting after paragraph (7), the + following new paragraphs: + ``(8) orders or prescribes a medical or other item or + service during a period in which the person was excluded from a + Federal health care program (as so defined), in the case where + the person knows or should know that a claim for such medical or + other item or service will be made under such a program; + ``(9) knowingly makes or causes to be made any false + statement, omission, or misrepresentation of a material fact in + any application, bid, or contract to participate or enroll as a + provider of services or a supplier under a Federal health care + program (as so defined), including Medicare Advantage + organizations under part C of title XVIII, prescription drug + plan sponsors under part D of title XVIII, medicaid managed care + organizations under title XIX, and entities that apply to + participate + +[[Page 124 STAT. 758]] + + as providers of services or suppliers in such managed care + organizations and such plans; + ``(10) knows of an overpayment (as defined in paragraph (4) + of section 1128J(d)) and does not report and return the + overpayment in accordance with such section;''; + (iv) in the first sentence-- + (I) by striking the ``or'' after + ``prohibited relationship occurs;''; and + (II) by striking ``act)'' and + inserting ``act; or in cases under + paragraph (9), $50,000 for each false + statement or misrepresentation of a + material fact)''; and + (v) in the second sentence, by striking + ``purpose)'' and inserting ``purpose; or in cases + under paragraph (9), an assessment of not more + than 3 times the total amount claimed for each + item or service for which payment was made based + upon the application containing the false + statement or misrepresentation of a material + fact)''. + (B) Clarification of treatment of certain charitable + and other innocuous programs.--Section 1128A(i)(6) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7a(i)(6)) is + amended-- + (i) in subparagraph (C), by striking ``or'' at + the end; + (ii) in subparagraph (D), as redesignated by + section 4331(e) of the Balanced Budget Act of 1997 + (Public Law 105-33), by striking the period at the + end and inserting a semicolon; + (iii) by redesignating subparagraph (D), as + added by section 4523(c) of such Act, as + subparagraph (E) and striking the period at the + end and inserting ``; or''; and + (iv) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraphs: + ``(F) <> any other remuneration + which promotes access to care and poses a low risk of + harm to patients and Federal health care programs (as + defined in section 1128B(f) and designated by the + Secretary under regulations); + ``(G) the offer or transfer of items or services for + free or less than fair market value by a person, if-- + ``(i) the items or services consist of + coupons, rebates, or other rewards from a + retailer; + ``(ii) the items or services are offered or + transferred on equal terms available to the + general public, regardless of health insurance + status; and + ``(iii) the offer or transfer of the items or + services is not tied to the provision of other + items or services reimbursed in whole or in part + by the program under title XVIII or a State health + care program (as defined in section 1128(h)); + ``(H) the offer or transfer of items or services for + free or less than fair market value by a person, if-- + ``(i) the items or services are not offered as + part of any advertisement or solicitation; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 759]] + + ``(ii) the items or services are not tied to + the provision of other services reimbursed in + whole or in part by the program under title XVIII + or a State health care program (as so defined); + ``(iii) there is a reasonable connection + between the items or services and the medical care + of the individual; and + ``(iv) the person provides the items or + services after determining in good faith that the + individual is in financial need; or + ``(I) effective on a date specified by the Secretary + (but not earlier than January 1, 2011), the waiver by a + PDP sponsor of a prescription drug plan under part D of + title XVIII or an MA organization offering an MA-PD plan + under part C of such title of any copayment for the + first fill of a covered part D drug (as defined in + section 1860D-2(e)) that is a generic drug for + individuals enrolled in the prescription drug plan or + MA-PD plan, respectively.''. + + (e) Testimonial Subpoena Authority in Exclusion-only Cases.--Section +1128(f) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7(f)) is amended by +adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(4) <> The provisions of subsections + (d) and (e) of section 205 shall apply with respect to this + section to the same extent as they are applicable with respect + to title II. The Secretary may delegate the authority granted by + section 205(d) (as made applicable to this section) to the + Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human Services + for purposes of any investigation under this section.''. + + (f) Health Care Fraud.-- + (1) Kickbacks.--Section 1128B of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1320a-7b) is amended by adding at the end the following + new subsection: + + ``(g) In addition to the penalties provided for in this section or +section 1128A, a claim that includes items or services resulting from a +violation of this section constitutes a false or fraudulent claim for +purposes of subchapter III of chapter 37 of title 31, United States +Code.''. + (2) Revising the intent requirement.--Section 1128B of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7b), as amended by + paragraph (1), is amended by adding at the end the following new + subsection: + + ``(h) With respect to violations of this section, a person need not +have actual knowledge of this section or specific intent to commit a +violation of this section.''. + (g) Surety Bond Requirements.-- + (1) Durable medical equipment.--Section 1834(a)(16)(B) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(a)(16)(B)) is amended + by inserting ``that the Secretary determines is commensurate + with the volume of the billing of the supplier'' before the + period at the end. + (2) Home health agencies.--Section 1861(o)(7)(C) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(o)(7)(C)) is amended by + inserting ``that the Secretary determines is commensurate with + the volume of the billing of the home health agency'' before the + semicolon at the end. + (3) Requirements for certain other providers of services and + suppliers.--Section 1862 of the Social Security Act + +[[Page 124 STAT. 760]] + + (42 U.S.C. 1395y) is amended by adding at the end the following + new subsection: + + ``(n) Requirement of a Surety Bond for Certain Providers of Services +and Suppliers.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary may require a provider of + services or supplier described in paragraph (2) to provide the + Secretary on a continuing basis with a surety bond in a form + specified by the Secretary in an amount (not less than $50,000) + that the Secretary determines is commensurate with the volume of + the billing of the provider of services or supplier. + The <> Secretary may waive the + requirement of a bond under the preceding sentence in the case + of a provider of services or supplier that provides a comparable + surety bond under State law. + ``(2) Provider of services or supplier described.--A + provider of services or supplier described in this paragraph is + a provider of services or supplier the Secretary determines + appropriate based on the level of risk involved with respect to + the provider of services or supplier, and consistent with the + surety bond requirements under sections 1834(a)(16)(B) and + 1861(o)(7)(C).''. + + (h) Suspension of Medicare and Medicaid Payments Pending +Investigation of Credible Allegations of Fraud.-- + (1) Medicare.--Section 1862 of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395y), as amended by subsection (g)(3), is amended by + adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(o) Suspension of Payments Pending Investigation of Credible +Allegations of Fraud.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> The Secretary + may suspend payments to a provider of services or supplier under + this title pending an investigation of a credible allegation of + fraud against the provider of services or supplier, unless the + Secretary determines there is good cause not to suspend such + payments. + ``(2) Consultation.--The Secretary shall consult with the + Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human Services + in determining whether there is a credible allegation of fraud + against a provider of services or supplier. + ``(3) Promulgation of regulations.--The Secretary shall + promulgate regulations to carry out this subsection and section + 1903(i)(2)(C).''. + (2) Medicaid.--Section 1903(i)(2) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396b(i)(2)) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``or'' at the + end; and + (B) by inserting after subparagraph (B), the + following: + ``(C) <> by any individual or + entity to whom the State has failed to suspend payments + under the plan during any period when there is pending + an investigation of a credible allegation of fraud + against the individual or entity, as determined by the + State in accordance with regulations promulgated by the + Secretary for purposes of section 1862(o) and this + subparagraph, unless the State determines in accordance + with such regulations there is good cause not to suspend + such payments; or''. + + (i) Increased Funding To Fight Fraud and Abuse.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1817(k) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1395i(k)) is amended-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 761]] + + (A) by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(7) Additional funding.--In addition to the funds + otherwise appropriated to the Account from the Trust Fund under + paragraphs (3) and (4) and for purposes described in paragraphs + (3)(C) and (4)(A), there are hereby appropriated an additional + $10,000,000 to such Account from such Trust Fund for each of + fiscal years 2011 through 2020. The funds appropriated under + this paragraph shall be allocated in the same proportion as the + total funding appropriated with respect to paragraphs (3)(A) and + (4)(A) was allocated with respect to fiscal year 2010, and shall + be available without further appropriation until expended.''; + and + (B) in paragraph (4)(A), by inserting ``until + expended'' after ``appropriation''. + (2) Indexing of amounts appropriated.-- + (A) Departments of health and human services and + justice.--Section 1817(k)(3)(A)(i) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i(k)(3)(A)(i)) is amended-- + (i) in subclause (III), by inserting ``and'' + at the end; + (ii) in subclause (IV)-- + (I) by striking ``for each of fiscal + years 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2010'' and + inserting ``for each fiscal year after + fiscal year 2006''; and + (II) by striking ``; and'' and + inserting a period; and + (iii) by striking subclause (V). + (B) Office of the inspector general of the + department of health and human services.--Section + 1817(k)(3)(A)(ii) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395i(k)(3)(A)(ii)) is amended-- + (i) in subclause (VIII), by inserting ``and'' + at the end; + (ii) in subclause (IX)-- + (I) by striking ``for each of fiscal + years 2008, 2009, and 2010'' and + inserting ``for each fiscal year after + fiscal year 2007''; and + (II) by striking ``; and'' and + inserting a period; and + (iii) by striking subclause (X). + (C) Federal bureau of investigation.--Section + 1817(k)(3)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395i(k)(3)(B)) is amended-- + (i) in clause (vii), by inserting ``and'' at + the end; + (ii) in clause (viii)-- + (I) by striking ``for each of fiscal + years 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2010'' and + inserting ``for each fiscal year after + fiscal year 2006''; and + (II) by striking ``; and'' and + inserting a period; and + (iii) by striking clause (ix). + (D) Medicare integrity program.--Section + 1817(k)(4)(C) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395i(k)(4)(C)) is amended by adding at the end the + following new clause: + ``(ii) For each fiscal year after 2010, by the + percentage increase in the consumer price index + for all urban + +[[Page 124 STAT. 762]] + + consumers (all items; United States city average) + over the previous year.''. + + (j) Medicare Integrity Program and Medicaid Integrity Program.-- + (1) Medicare integrity program.-- + (A) Requirement to provide performance statistics.-- + Section 1893(c) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395ddd(c)) is amended-- + (i) in paragraph (3), by striking ``and'' at + the end; + (ii) by redesignating paragraph (4) as + paragraph (5); and + (iii) by inserting after paragraph (3) the + following new paragraph: + ``(4) the entity agrees to provide the Secretary and the + Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human Services + with such performance statistics (including the number and + amount of overpayments recovered, the number of fraud referrals, + and the return on investment of such activities by the entity) + as the Secretary or the Inspector General may request; and''. + (B) Evaluations and annual report.--Section 1893 of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ddd) is amended + by adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(i) Evaluations and Annual Report.-- + ``(1) Evaluations.--The Secretary shall conduct evaluations + of eligible entities which the Secretary contracts with under + the Program not less frequently than every 3 years. + ``(2) Annual report.--Not later than 180 days after the end + of each fiscal year (beginning with fiscal year 2011), the + Secretary shall submit a report to Congress which identifies-- + ``(A) the use of funds, including funds transferred + from the Federal Hospital Insurance Trust Fund under + section 1817 and the Federal Supplementary Insurance + Trust Fund under section 1841, to carry out this + section; and + ``(B) the effectiveness of the use of such funds.''. + (C) Flexibility in pursuing fraud and abuse.-- + Section 1893(a) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395ddd(a)) is amended by inserting ``, or otherwise,'' + after ``entities''. + (2) Medicaid integrity program.-- + (A) Requirement to provide performance statistics.-- + Section 1936(c)(2) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396u-6(c)(2)) is amended-- + (i) by redesignating subparagraph (D) as + subparagraph (E); and + (ii) by inserting after subparagraph (C) the + following new subparagraph: + ``(D) The entity agrees to provide the Secretary and + the Inspector General of the Department of Health and + Human Services with such performance statistics + (including the number and amount of overpayments + recovered, the number of fraud referrals, and the return + on investment of such activities by the entity) as the + Secretary or the Inspector General may request.''. + (B) Evaluations and annual report.--Section 1936(e) + of the Social Security Act <> (42 + U.S.C. 1396u-7(e)) is amended-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 763]] + + (i) by redesignating paragraph (4) as + paragraph (5); and + (ii) by inserting after paragraph (3) the + following new paragraph: + ``(4) Evaluations.--The Secretary shall conduct evaluations + of eligible entities which the Secretary contracts with under + the Program not less frequently than every 3 years.''. + + (k) Expanded Application of Hardship Waivers for Exclusions.-- +Section 1128(c)(3)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a- +7(c)(3)(B)) is amended by striking ``individuals entitled to benefits +under part A of title XVIII or enrolled under part B of such title, or +both'' and inserting ``beneficiaries (as defined in section 1128A(i)(5)) +of that program''. + +SEC. 6403. ELIMINATION OF DUPLICATION BETWEEN THE HEALTHCARE INTEGRITY + AND PROTECTION DATA BANK AND THE NATIONAL PRACTITIONER DATA + BANK. + + (a) Information Reported by Federal Agencies and Health Plans.-- +Section 1128E of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7e) is +amended-- + (1) by striking subsection (a) and inserting the following: + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary shall maintain a national health +care fraud and abuse data collection program under this section for the +reporting of certain final adverse actions (not including settlements in +which no findings of liability have been made) against health care +providers, suppliers, or practitioners as required by subsection (b), +with access as set forth in subsection (d), and shall furnish the +information collected under this section to the National Practitioner +Data Bank established pursuant to the Health Care Quality Improvement +Act of 1986 (42 U.S.C. 11101 et seq.).''; + (2) by striking subsection (d) and inserting the following: + + ``(d) Access to Reported Information.-- + ``(1) Availability.--The information collected under this + section shall be available from the National Practitioner Data + Bank to the agencies, authorities, and officials which are + provided under section 1921(b) information reported under + section 1921(a). + ``(2) Fees for disclosure.--The Secretary may establish or + approve reasonable fees for the disclosure of information under + this section. The amount of such a fee may not exceed the costs + of processing the requests for disclosure and of providing such + information. Such fees shall be available to the Secretary to + cover such costs.''; + (3) by striking subsection (f) and inserting the following: + + ``(f) Appropriate Coordination.--In implementing this section, the +Secretary shall provide for the maximum appropriate coordination with +part B of the Health Care Quality Improvement Act of 1986 (42 U.S.C. +11131 et seq.) and section 1921.''; and + (4) in subsection (g)-- + (A) in paragraph (1)(A)-- + (i) in clause (iii)-- + (I) by striking ``or State'' each + place it appears; + (II) by redesignating subclauses + (II) and (III) as subclauses (III) and + (IV), respectively; and + (III) by inserting after subclause + (I) the following new subclause: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 764]] + + ``(II) any dismissal or closure of + the proceedings by reason of the + provider, supplier, or practitioner + surrendering their license or leaving + the State or jurisdiction''; and + (ii) by striking clause (iv) and inserting the + following: + ``(iv) Exclusion from participation in a + Federal health care program (as defined in section + 1128B(f)).''; + (B) in paragraph (3)-- + (i) by striking subparagraphs (D) and (E); and + (ii) by redesignating subparagraph (F) as + subparagraph (D); and + (C) in subparagraph (D) (as so redesignated), by + striking ``or State''. + + (b) Information Reported by State Law or Fraud Enforcement +Agencies.--Section 1921 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r-2) +is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)-- + (A) in paragraph (1)-- + (i) by striking ``system.--The State'' and all + that follows through the semicolon and inserting + system.-- + ``(A) Licensing or certification actions.-- + <> The State must have in + effect a system of reporting the following information + with respect to formal proceedings (as defined by the + Secretary in regulations) concluded against a health + care practitioner or entity by a State licensing or + certification agency:''; + (ii) by redesignating subparagraphs (A) + through (D) as clauses (i) through (iv), + respectively, and indenting appropriately; + (iii) in subparagraph (A)(iii) (as so + redesignated)-- + (I) by striking ``the license of'' + and inserting ``license or the right to + apply for, or renew, a license by''; and + (II) by inserting + ``nonrenewability,'' after ``voluntary + surrender,''; and + (iv) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(B) Other final adverse actions.-- + <> The State must have in effect a + system of reporting information with respect to any + final adverse action (not including settlements in which + no findings of liability have been made) taken against a + health care provider, supplier, or practitioner by a + State law or fraud enforcement agency.''; and + (B) in paragraph (2), by striking ``the authority + described in paragraph (1)'' and inserting ``a State + licensing or certification agency or State law or fraud + enforcement agency''; + (2) in subsection (b)-- + (A) by striking paragraph (2) and inserting the + following: + ``(2) to State licensing or certification agencies and + Federal agencies responsible for the licensing and certification + of health care providers, suppliers, and licensed health care + practitioners;''; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 765]] + + (B) in each of paragraphs (4) and (6), by inserting + ``, but only with respect to information provided + pursuant to subsection (a)(1)(A)'' before the comma at + the end; + (C) by striking paragraph (5) and inserting the + following: + ``(5) to State law or fraud enforcement agencies,''; + (D) by redesignating paragraphs (7) and (8) as + paragraphs (8) and (9), respectively; and + (E) by inserting after paragraph (6) the following + new paragraph: + ``(7) to health plans (as defined in section 1128C(c));''; + (3) by redesignating subsection (d) as subsection (h), and + by inserting after subsection (c) the following new subsections: + + ``(d) Disclosure and Correction of Information.-- + ``(1) Disclosure.--With respect to information reported + pursuant to subsection (a)(1), the Secretary shall-- + ``(A) provide for disclosure of the information, + upon request, to the health care practitioner who, or + the entity that, is the subject of the information + reported; and + ``(B) <> establish procedures for + the case where the health care practitioner or entity + disputes the accuracy of the information reported. + ``(2) Corrections.-- <> Each + State licensing or certification agency and State law or fraud + enforcement agency shall report corrections of information + already reported about any formal proceeding or final adverse + action described in subsection (a), in such form and manner as + the Secretary prescribes by regulation. + + ``(e) Fees for Disclosure.--The Secretary may establish or approve +reasonable fees for the disclosure of information under this section. +The amount of such a fee may not exceed the costs of processing the +requests for disclosure and of providing such information. Such fees +shall be available to the Secretary to cover such costs. + ``(f) Protection From Liability for Reporting.--No person or entity, +including any agency designated by the Secretary in subsection (b), +shall be held liable in any civil action with respect to any reporting +of information as required under this section, without knowledge of the +falsity of the information contained in the report. + ``(g) References.--For purposes of this section: + ``(1) State licensing or certification agency.--The term + `State licensing or certification agency' includes any authority + of a State (or of a political subdivision thereof) responsible + for the licensing of health care practitioners (or any peer + review organization or private accreditation entity reviewing + the services provided by health care practitioners) or entities. + ``(2) State law or fraud enforcement agency.--The term + `State law or fraud enforcement agency' includes-- + ``(A) a State law enforcement agency; and + ``(B) a State medicaid fraud control unit (as + defined in section 1903(q)). + ``(3) Final adverse action.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), the + term `final adverse action' includes-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 766]] + + ``(i) civil judgments against a health care + provider, supplier, or practitioner in State court + related to the delivery of a health care item or + service; + ``(ii) State criminal convictions related to + the delivery of a health care item or service; + ``(iii) exclusion from participation in State + health care programs (as defined in section + 1128(h)); + ``(iv) any licensing or certification action + described in subsection (a)(1)(A) taken against a + supplier by a State licensing or certification + agency; and + ``(v) any other adjudicated actions or + decisions that the Secretary shall establish by + regulation. + ``(B) Exception.--Such term does not include any + action with respect to a malpractice claim.''; and + (4) in subsection (h), as so redesignated, by striking ``The + Secretary'' and all that follows through the period at the end + and inserting ``In implementing this section, the Secretary + shall provide for the maximum appropriate coordination with part + B of the Health Care Quality Improvement Act of 1986 (42 U.S.C. + 11131 et seq.) and section 1128E.''. + + (c) Conforming Amendment.--Section 1128C(a)(1) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7c(a)(1)) is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (C), by adding ``and'' after the comma + at the end; + (2) in subparagraph (D), by striking ``, and'' and inserting + a period; and + (3) by striking subparagraph (E). + + (d) <> Transition Process; Effective +Date.-- + (1) In general.--Effective on the date of enactment of this + Act, the Secretary of Health and Human Services (in this section + referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall implement a transition + process under which, by not later than the end of the transition + period described in paragraph (5), the Secretary shall cease + operating the Healthcare Integrity and Protection Data Bank + established under section 1128E of the Social Security Act (as + in effect before the effective date specified in paragraph (6)) + and shall transfer all data collected in the Healthcare + Integrity and Protection Data Bank to the National Practitioner + Data Bank established pursuant to the Health Care Quality + Improvement Act of 1986 (42 U.S.C. 11101 et + seq.). <> During such transition process, the + Secretary shall have in effect appropriate procedures to ensure + that data collection and access to the Healthcare Integrity and + Protection Data Bank and the National Practitioner Data Bank are + not disrupted. + (2) Regulations.--The Secretary shall promulgate regulations + to carry out the amendments made by subsections (a) and (b). + (3) Funding.-- + (A) Availability of fees.--Fees collected pursuant + to section 1128E(d)(2) of the Social Security Act prior + to the effective date specified in paragraph (6) for the + disclosure of information in the Healthcare Integrity + and Protection Data Bank shall be available to the + Secretary, without fiscal year limitation, for payment + of costs related to the transition process described in + paragraph (1). Any such fees remaining after the + transition period is complete shall + +[[Page 124 STAT. 767]] + + be available to the Secretary, without fiscal year + limitation, for payment of the costs of operating the + National Practitioner Data Bank. + (B) Availability of additional funds.--In addition + to the fees described in subparagraph (A), any funds + available to the Secretary or to the Inspector General + of the Department of Health and Human Services for a + purpose related to combating health care fraud, waste, + or abuse shall be available to the extent necessary for + operating the Healthcare Integrity and Protection Data + Bank during the transition period, including systems + testing and other activities necessary to ensure that + information formerly reported to the Healthcare + Integrity and Protection Data Bank will be accessible + through the National Practitioner Data Bank after the + end of such transition period. + (4) Special provision for access to the national + practitioner data bank by the department of veterans affairs.-- + (A) In general.-- <> Notwithstanding any other provision of law, + during the 1-year period that begins on the effective + date specified in paragraph (6), the information + described in subparagraph (B) shall be available from + the National Practitioner Data Bank to the Secretary of + Veterans Affairs without charge. + (B) Information described.--For purposes of + subparagraph (A), the information described in this + subparagraph is the information that would, but for the + amendments made by this section, have been available to + the Secretary of Veterans Affairs from the Healthcare + Integrity and Protection Data Bank. + (5) Transition period defined.--For purposes of this + subsection, the term ``transition period'' means the period that + begins on the date of enactment of this Act and ends on the + later of-- + (A) the date that is 1 year after such date of + enactment; or + (B) the effective date of the regulations + promulgated under paragraph (2). + (6) Effective date.--The amendments made by subsections (a), + (b), and (c) shall take effect on the first day after the final + day of the transition period. + +SEC. 6404. MAXIMUM PERIOD FOR SUBMISSION OF MEDICARE CLAIMS REDUCED TO + NOT MORE THAN 12 MONTHS. + + (a) Reducing Maximum Period for Submission.-- + (1) Part a.--Section 1814(a) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395f(a)(1)) is amended-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking ``period of 3 + calendar years'' and all that follows through the + semicolon and inserting ``period ending 1 calendar year + after the date of service;''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new sentence: + ``In applying paragraph (1), the Secretary may specify + exceptions to the 1 calendar year period specified in + such paragraph.'' + (2) Part b.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 768]] + + (A) Section 1842(b)(3) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395u(b)(3)(B)) is amended-- + (i) in subparagraph (B), in the flush language + following clause (ii), by striking ``close of the + calendar year following the year in which such + service is furnished (deeming any service + furnished in the last 3 months of any calendar + year to have been furnished in the succeeding + calendar year)'' and inserting ``period ending 1 + calendar year after the date of service''; and + (ii) by adding at the end the following new + sentence: ``In applying subparagraph (B), the + Secretary may specify exceptions to the 1 calendar + year period specified in such subparagraph.'' + (B) Section 1835(a) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395n(a)) + is amended-- + (i) in paragraph (1), by striking ``period of + 3 calendar years'' and all that follows through + the semicolon and inserting ``period ending 1 + calendar year after the date of service;''; and + (ii) by adding at the end the following new + sentence: ``In applying paragraph (1), the + Secretary may specify exceptions to the 1 calendar + year period specified in such paragraph.'' + + (b) <> Effective Date.-- + (1) In general.--The amendments made by subsection (a) shall + apply to services furnished on or after January 1, 2010. + (2) Services furnished before 2010.-- <> In + the case of services furnished before January 1, 2010, a bill or + request for payment under section 1814(a)(1), 1842(b)(3)(B), or + 1835(a) shall be filed not later that December 31, 2010. + +SEC. 6405. PHYSICIANS WHO ORDER ITEMS OR SERVICES REQUIRED TO BE + MEDICARE ENROLLED PHYSICIANS OR ELIGIBLE PROFESSIONALS. + + (a) DME.--Section 1834(a)(11)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395m(a)(11)(B)) is amended by striking ``physician'' and +inserting ``physician enrolled under section 1866(j) or an eligible +professional under section 1848(k)(3)(B) that is enrolled under section +1866(j)''. + (b) Home Health Services.-- + (1) Part a.--Section 1814(a)(2) of such Act <> (42 U.S.C. 1395(a)(2)) is amended in the matter + preceding subparagraph (A) by inserting ``in the case of + services described in subparagraph (C), a physician enrolled + under section 1866(j) or an eligible professional under section + 1848(k)(3)(B),'' before ``or, in the case of services''. + (2) Part b.--Section 1835(a)(2) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395n(a)(2)) is amended in the matter preceding subparagraph (A) + by inserting ``, or in the case of services described in + subparagraph (A), a physician enrolled under section 1866(j) or + an eligible professional under section 1848(k)(3)(B),'' after + ``a physician''. + + (c) <> Application to Other Items or +Services.--The Secretary may extend the requirement applied by the +amendments made by subsections (a) and (b) to durable medical equipment +and home health services (relating to requiring certifications and +written + +[[Page 124 STAT. 769]] + +orders to be made by enrolled physicians and health professions) to all +other categories of items or services under title XVIII of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395 et seq.), including covered part D drugs as +defined in section 1860D-2(e) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-102), that +are ordered, prescribed, or referred by a physician enrolled under +section 1866(j) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395cc(j)) or an eligible +professional under section 1848(k)(3)(B) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- +4(k)(3)(B)). + + (d) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to written orders and certifications +made on or after July 1, 2010. + +SEC. 6406. REQUIREMENT FOR PHYSICIANS TO PROVIDE DOCUMENTATION ON + REFERRALS TO PROGRAMS AT HIGH RISK OF WASTE AND ABUSE. + + (a) Physicians and Other Suppliers.--Section 1842(h) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395u(h)) is amended by adding at the end the +following new paragraph: + ``(9) The Secretary may revoke enrollment, for a period of not more +than one year for each act, for a physician or supplier under section +1866(j) if such physician or supplier fails to maintain and, upon +request of the Secretary, provide access to documentation relating to +written orders or requests for payment for durable medical equipment, +certifications for home health services, or referrals for other items or +services written or ordered by such physician or supplier under this +title, as specified by the Secretary.''. + (b) Providers of Services.--Section 1866(a)(1) of such Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395cc) is further amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (U), by striking at the end ``and''; + (2) in subparagraph (V), by striking the period at the end + and adding ``; and''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(W) maintain and, upon request of the Secretary, + provide access to documentation relating to written + orders or requests for payment for durable medical + equipment, certifications for home health services, or + referrals for other items or services written or ordered + by the provider under this title, as specified by the + Secretary.''. + + (c) OIG Permissive Exclusion Authority.--Section 1128(b)(11) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7(b)(11)) is amended by inserting +``, ordering, referring for furnishing, or certifying the need for'' +after ``furnishing''. + (d) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to orders, certifications, and +referrals made on or after January 1, 2010. + +SEC. 6407. FACE TO FACE ENCOUNTER WITH PATIENT REQUIRED BEFORE + PHYSICIANS MAY CERTIFY ELIGIBILITY FOR HOME HEALTH SERVICES + OR DURABLE MEDICAL EQUIPMENT UNDER MEDICARE. + + (a) Condition of Payment for Home Health Services.-- + (1) Part a.--Section 1814(a)(2)(C) of such Act <> is amended-- + (A) by striking ``and such services'' and inserting + ``such services''; and + (B) by inserting after ``care of a physician'' the + following: ``, and, in the case of a certification made + by a physician after January 1, 2010, prior to making + such + +[[Page 124 STAT. 770]] + + certification the physician must document that the + physician himself or herself has had a face-to-face + encounter (including through use of telehealth, subject + to the requirements in section 1834(m), and other than + with respect to encounters that are incident to services + involved) with the individual within a reasonable + timeframe as determined by the Secretary''. + (2) Part b.--Section 1835(a)(2)(A) of the Social Security + Act <> is amended-- + (A) by striking ``and'' before ``(iii)''; and + (B) by inserting after ``care of a physician'' the + following: ``, and (iv) in the case of a certification + after January 1, 2010, prior to making such + certification the physician must document that the + physician has had a face-to-face encounter (including + through use of telehealth and other than with respect to + encounters that are incident to services involved) with + the individual during the 6-month period preceding such + certification, or other reasonable timeframe as + determined by the Secretary''. + + (b) Condition of Payment for Durable Medical Equipment.--Section +1834(a)(11)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(a)(11)(B)) is +amended-- + (1) by striking ``Order.--The Secretary'' and inserting + ``Order.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(ii) Requirement for face to face + encounter.--The Secretary shall require that such + an order be written pursuant to the physician + documenting that a physician, a physician + assistant, a nurse practitioner, or a clinical + nurse specialist (as those terms are defined in + section 1861(aa)(5)) has had a face-to-face + encounter (including through use of telehealth + under subsection (m) and other than with respect + to encounters that are incident to services + involved) with the individual involved during the + 6-month period preceding such written order, or + other reasonable timeframe as determined by the + Secretary.''. + + (c) <> Application to Other Areas Under +Medicare.--The Secretary may apply the face-to-face encounter +requirement described in the amendments made by subsections (a) and (b) +to other items and services for which payment is provided under title +XVIII of the Social Security Act based upon a finding that such an +decision would reduce the risk of waste, fraud, or abuse. + + (d) <> Application to Medicaid.--The +requirements pursuant to the amendments made by subsections (a) and (b) +shall apply in the case of physicians making certifications for home +health services under title XIX of the Social Security Act in the same +manner and to the same extent as such requirements apply in the case of +physicians making such certifications under title XVIII of such Act. + +SEC. 6408. ENHANCED PENALTIES. + + (a) Civil Monetary Penalties for False Statements or Delaying +Inspections.--Section 1128A(a) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1320a-7a(a)), as amended by section 5002(d)(2)(A), is amended-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 771]] + + (1) in paragraph (6), by striking ``or'' at the end; and + (2) by inserting after paragraph (7) the following new + paragraphs: + ``(8) knowingly makes, uses, or causes to be made or used, a + false record or statement material to a false or fraudulent + claim for payment for items and services furnished under a + Federal health care program; or + ``(9) fails to grant timely access, upon reasonable request + (as defined by the Secretary in regulations), to the Inspector + General of the Department of Health and Human Services, for the + purpose of audits, investigations, evaluations, or other + statutory functions of the Inspector General of the Department + of Health and Human Services;''; and + (3) in the first sentence-- + (A) by striking ``or in cases under paragraph (7)'' + and inserting ``in cases under paragraph (7)''; and + (B) by striking ``act)'' and inserting ``act, in + cases under paragraph (8), $50,000 for each false record + or statement, or in cases under paragraph (9), $15,000 + for each day of the failure described in such + paragraph)''. + + (b) Medicare Advantage and Part D Plans.-- + (1) Ensuring timely inspections relating to contracts with + ma organizations.--Section 1857(d)(2) of such Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395w-27(d)(2)) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (A), by inserting ``timely'' + before ``inspect''; and + (B) in subparagraph (B), by inserting ``timely'' + before ``audit and inspect''. + (2) Marketing violations.--Section 1857(g)(1) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-27(g)(1)) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (F), by striking ``or'' at the + end; + (B) by inserting after subparagraph (G) the + following new subparagraphs: + ``(H) except as provided under subparagraph (C) or + (D) of section 1860D-1(b)(1), enrolls an individual in + any plan under this part without the prior consent of + the individual or the designee of the individual; + ``(I) transfers an individual enrolled under this + part from one plan to another without the prior consent + of the individual or the designee of the individual or + solely for the purpose of earning a commission; + ``(J) fails to comply with marketing restrictions + described in subsections (h) and (j) of section 1851 or + applicable implementing regulations or guidance; or + ``(K) employs or contracts with any individual or + entity who engages in the conduct described in + subparagraphs (A) through (J) of this paragraph;''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new sentence: + ``The <> Secretary may provide, in + addition to any other remedies authorized by law, for + any of the remedies described in paragraph (2), if the + Secretary determines that any employee or agent of such + organization, or any provider or supplier who contracts + with such organization, has engaged in any conduct + described in subparagraphs (A) through (K) of this + paragraph.''. + (3) Provision of false information.--Section 1857(g)(2)(A) + of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 772]] + + 27(g)(2)(A)) is amended by inserting ``except with respect to a + determination under subparagraph (E), an assessment of not more + than the amount claimed by such plan or plan sponsor based upon + the misrepresentation or falsified information involved,'' after + ``for each such determination,''. + + (c) Obstruction of Program Audits.--Section 1128(b)(2) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320a-7(b)(2)) is amended-- + (1) in the heading, by inserting ``or audit'' after + ``investigation''; and + (2) by striking ``investigation into'' and all that follows + through the period and inserting ``investigation or audit + related to--'' + ``(i) any offense described in paragraph (1) + or in subsection (a); or + ``(ii) the use of funds received, directly or + indirectly, from any Federal health care program + (as defined in section 1128B(f)).''. + + (d) <> Effective Date.-- + (1) In general.--Except as provided in paragraph (2), the + amendments made by this section shall apply to acts committed on + or after January 1, 2010. + (2) Exception.--The amendments made by subsection (b)(1) + take effect on the date of enactment of this Act. + +SEC. 6409. <> MEDICARE SELF-REFERRAL + DISCLOSURE PROTOCOL. + + (a) Development of Self-Referral Disclosure Protocol.-- + (1) <> In general.--The Secretary of Health + and Human Services, in cooperation with the Inspector General of + the Department of Health and Human Services, shall establish, + not later than 6 months after the date of the enactment of this + Act, a protocol to enable health care providers of services and + suppliers to disclose an actual or potential violation of + section 1877 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395nn) + pursuant to a self-referral disclosure protocol (in this section + referred to as an ``SRDP''). The SRDP shall include direction to + health care providers of services and suppliers on-- + (A) a specific person, official, or office to whom + such disclosures shall be made; and + (B) instruction on the implication of the SRDP on + corporate integrity agreements and corporate compliance + agreements. + (2) Publication on internet website of srdp information.-- + The Secretary of Health and Human Services shall post + information on the public Internet website of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services to inform relevant stakeholders of + how to disclose actual or potential violations pursuant to an + SRDP. + (3) Relation to advisory opinions.--The SRDP shall be + separate from the advisory opinion process set forth in + regulations implementing section 1877(g) of the Social Security + Act. + + (b) Reduction in Amounts Owed.--The Secretary of Health and Human +Services is authorized to reduce the amount due and owing for all +violations under section 1877 of the Social Security Act to an amount +less than that specified in subsection (g) of such section. In +establishing such amount for a violation, the Secretary may consider the +following factors: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 773]] + + (1) The nature and extent of the improper or illegal + practice. + (2) The timeliness of such self-disclosure. + (3) The cooperation in providing additional information + related to the disclosure. + (4) Such other factors as the Secretary considers + appropriate. + + (c) Report.--Not later than 18 months after the date on which the +SRDP protocol is established under subsection (a)(1), the Secretary +shall submit to Congress a report on the implementation of this section. +Such report shall include-- + (1) the number of health care providers of services and + suppliers making disclosures pursuant to the SRDP; + (2) the amounts collected pursuant to the SRDP; + (3) the types of violations reported under the SRDP; and + (4) such other information as may be necessary to evaluate + the impact of this section. + +SEC. 6410. ADJUSTMENTS TO THE MEDICARE DURABLE MEDICAL EQUIPMENT, + PROSTHETICS, ORTHOTICS, AND SUPPLIES COMPETITIVE ACQUISITION + PROGRAM. + + (a) Expansion of Round 2 of the DME Competitive Bidding Program.-- +Section 1847(a)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-3(a)(1)) +is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (B)(i)(II), by striking ``70'' and + inserting ``91''; and + (2) in subparagraph (D)(ii)-- + (A) in subclause (I), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) by redesignating subclause (II) as subclause + (III); and + (C) by inserting after subclause (I) the following + new subclause: + ``(II) the Secretary shall include + the next 21 largest metropolitan + statistical areas by total population + (after those selected under subclause + (I)) for such round; and''. + + (b) Requirement to Either Competitively Bid Areas or Use Competitive +Bid Prices by 2016.--Section 1834(a)(1)(F) of the Social Security Act +(42 U.S.C. 1395m(a)(1)(F)) is amended-- + (1) in clause (i), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) in clause (ii)-- + (A) by inserting ``(and, in the case of covered + items furnished on or after January 1, 2016, subject to + clause (iii), shall)'' after ``may''; and + (B) by striking the period at the end and inserting + ``; and''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(iii) in the case of covered items furnished + on or after January 1, 2016, the Secretary shall + continue to make such adjustments described in + clause (ii) as, under such competitive acquisition + programs, additional covered items are phased in + or information is updated as contracts under + section 1847 are recompeted in accordance with + section 1847(b)(3)(B).''. + +SEC. 6411. EXPANSION OF THE RECOVERY AUDIT CONTRACTOR (RAC) PROGRAM. + + (a) Expansion to Medicaid.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 774]] + + (1) State plan amendment.--Section 1902(a)(42) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)(42)) is amended-- + (A) by striking ``that the records'' and inserting + ``that-- + ``(A) the records''; + (B) by inserting ``and'' after the semicolon; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(B) <> not later than December + 31, 2010, the State shall-- + ``(i) establish a program under which the + State contracts (consistent with State law and in + the same manner as the Secretary enters into + contracts with recovery audit contractors under + section 1893(h), subject to such exceptions or + requirements as the Secretary may require for + purposes of this title or a particular State) with + 1 or more recovery audit contractors for the + purpose of identifying underpayments and + overpayments and recouping overpayments under the + State plan and under any waiver of the State plan + with respect to all services for which payment is + made to any entity under such plan or waiver; and + ``(ii) provide assurances satisfactory to the + Secretary that-- + ``(I) under such contracts, payment + shall be made to such a contractor only + from amounts recovered; + ``(II) from such amounts recovered, + payment-- + ``(aa) shall be made on a + contingent basis for collecting + overpayments; and + ``(bb) may be made in such + amounts as the State may specify + for identifying underpayments; + ``(III) the State has an adequate + process for entities to appeal any + adverse determination made by such + contractors; and + ``(IV) such program is carried out + in accordance with such requirements as + the Secretary shall specify, including-- + ``(aa) for purposes of + section 1903(a)(7), that amounts + expended by the State to carry + out the program shall be + considered amounts expended as + necessary for the proper and + efficient administration of the + State plan or a waiver of the + plan; + ``(bb) that section 1903(d) + shall apply to amounts recovered + under the program; and + ``(cc) that the State and + any such contractors under + contract with the State shall + coordinate such recovery audit + efforts with other contractors + or entities performing audits of + entities receiving payments + under the State plan or waiver + in the State, including efforts + with Federal and State law + enforcement with respect to the + Department of Justice, including + the Federal Bureau of + Investigations, the Inspector + General of the Department of + Health and Human Services, and + the State medicaid fraud control + unit; and''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 775]] + + (2) <> Coordination; + regulations.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human + Services, acting through the Administrator of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, shall + coordinate the expansion of the Recovery Audit + Contractor program to Medicaid with States, particularly + with respect to each State that enters into a contract + with a recovery audit contractor for purposes of the + State's Medicaid program prior to December 31, 2010. + (B) Regulations.--The Secretary of Health and Human + Services shall promulgate regulations to carry out this + subsection and the amendments made by this subsection, + including with respect to conditions of Federal + financial participation, as specified by the Secretary. + + (b) Expansion to Medicare Parts C and D.--Section 1893(h) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ddd(h)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1), in the matter preceding subparagraph + (A), by striking ``part A or B'' and inserting ``this title''; + (2) in paragraph (2), by striking ``parts A and B'' and + inserting ``this title''; + (3) in paragraph (3), by inserting ``(not later than + December 31, 2010, in the case of contracts relating to payments + made under part C or D)'' after ``2010''; + (4) in paragraph (4), in the matter preceding subparagraph + (A), by striking ``part A or B'' and inserting ``this title''; + and + (5) by adding at the end the following: + ``(9) Special rules relating to parts c and d.--The + Secretary shall enter into contracts under paragraph (1) to + require recovery audit contractors to-- + ``(A) ensure that each MA plan under part C has an + anti-fraud plan in effect and to review the + effectiveness of each such anti-fraud plan; + ``(B) ensure that each prescription drug plan under + part D has an anti-fraud plan in effect and to review + the effectiveness of each such anti-fraud plan; + ``(C) examine claims for reinsurance payments under + section 1860D-15(b) to determine whether prescription + drug plans submitting such claims incurred costs in + excess of the allowable reinsurance costs permitted + under paragraph (2) of that section; and + ``(D) review estimates submitted by prescription + drug plans by private plans with respect to the + enrollment of high cost beneficiaries (as defined by the + Secretary) and to compare such estimates with the + numbers of such beneficiaries actually enrolled by such + plans.''. + + (c) <> Annual Report.--The Secretary of +Health and Human Services, acting through the Administrator of the +Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, shall submit an annual report +to Congress concerning the effectiveness of the Recovery Audit +Contractor program under Medicaid and Medicare and shall include such +reports recommendations for expanding or improving the program. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 776]] + + Subtitle F--Additional Medicaid Program Integrity Provisions + +SEC. 6501. TERMINATION OF PROVIDER PARTICIPATION UNDER MEDICAID IF + TERMINATED UNDER MEDICARE OR OTHER STATE PLAN. + + Section 1902(a)(39) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 42 U.S.C. +1396a(a)) is amended by inserting after ``1128A,'' the following: +``terminate the participation of any individual or entity in such +program if (subject to such exceptions as are permitted with respect to +exclusion under sections 1128(c)(3)(B) and 1128(d)(3)(B)) participation +of such individual or entity is terminated under title XVIII or any +other State plan under this title,''. + +SEC. 6502. MEDICAID EXCLUSION FROM PARTICIPATION RELATING TO CERTAIN + OWNERSHIP, CONTROL, AND MANAGEMENT AFFILIATIONS. + + Section 1902(a) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)), as +amended by section 6401(b), is amended by inserting after paragraph (77) +the following: + ``(78) provide that the State agency described in paragraph + (9) exclude, with respect to a period, any individual or entity + from participation in the program under the State plan if such + individual or entity owns, controls, or manages an entity that + (or if such entity is owned, controlled, or managed by an + individual or entity that)-- + ``(A) has unpaid overpayments (as defined by the + Secretary) under this title during such period + determined by the Secretary or the State agency to be + delinquent; + ``(B) is suspended or excluded from participation + under or whose participation is terminated under this + title during such period; or + ``(C) is affiliated with an individual or entity + that has been suspended or excluded from participation + under this title or whose participation is terminated + under this title during such period;''. + +SEC. 6503. BILLING AGENTS, CLEARINGHOUSES, OR OTHER ALTERNATE PAYEES + REQUIRED TO REGISTER UNDER MEDICAID. + + (a) In General.--Section 1902(a) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)), as amended by section 6502(a), is amended by +inserting after paragraph (78), the following: + ``(79) provide that any agent, clearinghouse, or other + alternate payee (as defined by the Secretary) that submits + claims on behalf of a health care provider must register with + the State and the Secretary in a form and manner specified by + the Secretary;''. + +SEC. 6504. REQUIREMENT TO REPORT EXPANDED SET OF DATA ELEMENTS UNDER + MMIS TO DETECT FRAUD AND ABUSE. + + (a) <> In General.--Section 1903(r)(1)(F) of +the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396b(r)(1)(F)) is amended by +inserting after ``necessary'' the following: ``and including, for data +submitted to the Secretary on or after January 1, 2010, data elements +from the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 777]] + +automated data system that the Secretary determines to be necessary for +program integrity, program oversight, and administration, at such +frequency as the Secretary shall determine''. + + (b) Managed Care Organizations.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1903(m)(2)(A)(xi) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396b(m)(2)(A)(xi)) is amended by + inserting ``and for the provision of such data to the State at a + frequency and level of detail to be specified by the Secretary'' + after ``patients''. + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendment made by paragraph (1) shall apply with respect to + contract years beginning on or after January 1, 2010. + +SEC. 6505. PROHIBITION ON PAYMENTS TO INSTITUTIONS OR ENTITIES LOCATED + OUTSIDE OF THE UNITED STATES. + + Section 1902(a) of the Social Security Act <> (42 U.S.C. 1396b(a)), as amended by section 6503, is amended by +inserting after paragraph (79) the following new paragraph: + ``(80) provide that the State shall not provide any payments + for items or services provided under the State plan or under a + waiver to any financial institution or entity located outside of + the United States;''. + +SEC. 6506. OVERPAYMENTS. + + (a) Extension of Period for Collection of Overpayments Due to +Fraud.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1903(d)(2) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1396b(d)(2)) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (C)-- + (i) in the first sentence, by striking ``60 + days'' and inserting ``1 year''; and + (ii) in the second sentence, by striking ``60 + days'' and inserting ``1-year period''; and + (B) in subparagraph (D)-- + (i) in inserting ``(i)'' after ``(D)''; and + (ii) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(ii) In any case where the State is unable to recover a debt which +represents an overpayment (or any portion thereof) made to a person or +other entity due to fraud within 1 year of discovery because there is +not a final determination of the amount of the overpayment under an +administrative or judicial process (as applicable), including as a +result of a judgment being under appeal, no adjustment shall be made in +the Federal payment to such State on account of such overpayment (or +portion thereof) before the date that is 30 days after the date on which +a final judgment (including, if applicable, a final determination on an +appeal) is made.''. + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendments made by this subsection take effect on the date of + enactment of this Act and apply to overpayments discovered on or + after that date. + + (b) <> Corrective Action.-- +The Secretary shall promulgate regulations that require States to +correct Federally identified claims overpayments, of an ongoing or +recurring nature, with new Medicaid Management Information System (MMIS) +edits, audits, or other appropriate corrective action. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 778]] + +SEC. 6507. MANDATORY STATE USE OF NATIONAL CORRECT CODING INITIATIVE. + + Section 1903(r) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396b(r)) is +amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1)(B)-- + (A) in clause (ii), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (B) in clause (iii), by adding ``and'' after the + semi-colon; and + (C) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(iv) <> effective for + claims filed on or after October 1, 2010, + incorporate compatible methodologies of the + National Correct Coding Initiative administered by + the Secretary (or any successor initiative to + promote correct coding and to control improper + coding leading to inappropriate payment) and such + other methodologies of that Initiative (or such + other national correct coding methodologies) as + the Secretary identifies in accordance with + paragraph (4);''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + + ``(4) <> For purposes of paragraph (1)(B)(iv), the +Secretary shall do the following: + ``(A) Not later than September 1, 2010: + ``(i) Identify those methodologies of the National + Correct Coding Initiative administered by the Secretary + (or any successor initiative to promote correct coding + and to control improper coding leading to inappropriate + payment) which are compatible to claims filed under this + title. + ``(ii) Identify those methodologies of such + Initiative (or such other national correct coding + methodologies) that should be incorporated into claims + filed under this title with respect to items or services + for which States provide medical assistance under this + title and no national correct coding methodologies have + been established under such Initiative with respect to + title XVIII. + ``(iii) <> Notify States of-- + ``(I) the methodologies identified under + subparagraphs (A) and (B) (and of any other + national correct coding methodologies identified + under subparagraph (B)); and + ``(II) how States are to incorporate such + methodologies into claims filed under this title. + ``(B) Not later than March 1, 2011, submit a report to + Congress that includes the notice to States under clause (iii) + of subparagraph (A) and an analysis supporting the + identification of the methodologies made under clauses (i) and + (ii) of subparagraph (A).''. + +SEC. 6508. <> GENERAL EFFECTIVE DATE. + + (a) In General.--Except as otherwise provided in this subtitle, this +subtitle and the amendments made by this subtitle take effect on January +1, 2011, without regard to whether final regulations to carry out such +amendments and subtitle have been promulgated by that date. + (b) <> Delay if State Legislation +Required.--In the case of a State plan for medical assistance under +title XIX of the Social Security Act or a child health plan under title +XXI of such Act which the Secretary of Health and Human Services +determines + +[[Page 124 STAT. 779]] + +requires State legislation (other than legislation appropriating funds) +in order for the plan to meet the additional requirement imposed by the +amendments made by this subtitle, the State plan or child health plan +shall not be regarded as failing to comply with the requirements of such +title solely on the basis of its failure to meet this additional +requirement before the first day of the first calendar quarter beginning +after the close of the first regular session of the State legislature +that begins after the date of the enactment of this Act. For purposes of +the previous sentence, in the case of a State that has a 2-year +legislative session, each year of such session shall be deemed to be a +separate regular session of the State legislature. + + Subtitle G--Additional Program Integrity Provisions + +SEC. 6601. PROHIBITION ON FALSE STATEMENTS AND REPRESENTATIONS. + + (a) Prohibition.--Part 5 of subtitle B of title I of the Employee +Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 (29 U.S.C. 1131 et seq.) is +amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 519. <> PROHIBITION ON FALSE STATEMENTS AND + REPRESENTATIONS. + + ``No person, in connection with a plan or other arrangement that is +multiple employer welfare arrangement described in section 3(40), shall +make a false statement or false representation of fact, knowing it to be +false, in connection with the marketing or sale of such plan or +arrangement, to any employee, any member of an employee organization, +any beneficiary, any employer, any employee organization, the Secretary, +or any State, or the representative or agent of any such person, State, +or the Secretary, concerning-- + ``(1) the financial condition or solvency of such plan or + arrangement; + ``(2) the benefits provided by such plan or arrangement; + ``(3) the regulatory status of such plan or other + arrangement under any Federal or State law governing collective + bargaining, labor management relations, or intern union affairs; + or + ``(4) the regulatory status of such plan or other + arrangement regarding exemption from state regulatory authority + under this Act. + +This section shall not apply to any plan or arrangement that does not +fall within the meaning of the term `multiple employer welfare +arrangement' under section 3(40)(A).''. + (b) Criminal Penalties.--Section 501 of the Employee Retirement +Income Security Act of 1974 (29 U.S.C. 1131) is amended-- + (1) by inserting ``(a)'' before ``Any person''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(b) Any person that violates section 519 shall upon conviction be +imprisoned not more than 10 years or fined under title 18, United States +Code, or both.''. + (c) Conforming Amendment.--The table of sections for part 5 of +subtitle B of title I of the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of +1974 is amended by adding at the end the following: + +``Sec. 519. Prohibition on false statement and representations.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 780]] + +SEC. 6602. CLARIFYING DEFINITION. + + Section 24(a)(2) of title 18, United States Code, is amended by +inserting ``or section 411, 518, or 511 of the Employee Retirement +Income Security Act of 1974,'' after ``1954 of this title''. + +SEC. 6603. DEVELOPMENT OF MODEL UNIFORM REPORT FORM. + + Part C of title XXVII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +300gg-91 et seq.) is amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 2794. <> UNIFORM FRAUD AND ABUSE REFERRAL + FORMAT. + + ``The Secretary shall request the National Association of Insurance +Commissioners to develop a model uniform report form for private health +insurance issuer seeking to refer suspected fraud and abuse to State +insurance departments or other responsible State agencies for +investigation. The Secretary shall request that the National Association +of Insurance Commissioners develop recommendations for uniform reporting +standards for such referrals.''. + +SEC. 6604. APPLICABILITY OF STATE LAW TO COMBAT FRAUD AND ABUSE. + + (a) In General.--Part 5 of subtitle B of title I of the Employee +Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 (29 U.S.C. 1131 et seq.), as +amended by section 6601, is further amended by adding at the end the +following: + +``SEC. 520. <> APPLICABILITY OF STATE LAW TO COMBAT + FRAUD AND ABUSE. + + ``The Secretary may, for the purpose of identifying, preventing, or +prosecuting fraud and abuse, adopt regulatory standards establishing, or +issue an order relating to a specific person establishing, that a person +engaged in the business of providing insurance through a multiple +employer welfare arrangement described in section 3(40) is subject to +the laws of the States in which such person operates which regulate +insurance in such State, notwithstanding section 514(b)(6) of this Act +or the Liability Risk Retention Act of 1986, and regardless of whether +the law of the State is otherwise preempted under any of such +provisions. This section shall not apply to any plan or arrangement that +does not fall within the meaning of the term `multiple employer welfare +arrangement' under section 3(40)(A).''. + (b) Conforming Amendment.--The table of sections for part 5 of +subtitle B of title I of the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of +1974, as amended by section 6601, is further amended by adding at the +end the following: + +``Sec. 520. Applicability of State law to combat fraud and abuse.''. + +SEC. 6605. ENABLING THE DEPARTMENT OF LABOR TO ISSUE ADMINISTRATIVE + SUMMARY CEASE AND DESIST ORDERS AND SUMMARY SEIZURES ORDERS + AGAINST PLANS THAT ARE IN FINANCIALLY HAZARDOUS CONDITION. + + (a) In General.--Part 5 of subtitle B of title I of the Employee +Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 (29 U.S.C. 1131 et seq.), as +amended by section 6604, is further amended by adding at the end the +following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 781]] + +``SEC. 521. <> ADMINISTRATIVE SUMMARY CEASE AND + DESIST ORDERS AND SUMMARY SEIZURE ORDERS AGAINST MULTIPLE + EMPLOYER WELFARE ARRANGEMENTS IN FINANCIALLY HAZARDOUS + CONDITION. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary may issue a cease and desist (ex +parte) order under this title if it appears to the Secretary that the +alleged conduct of a multiple employer welfare arrangement described in +section 3(40), other than a plan or arrangement described in subsection +(g), is fraudulent, or creates an immediate danger to the public safety +or welfare, or is causing or can be reasonably expected to cause +significant, imminent, and irreparable public injury. + ``(b) Hearing.--A person that is adversely affected by the issuance +of a cease and desist order under subsection (a) may request a hearing +by the Secretary regarding such order. The Secretary may require that a +proceeding under this section, including all related information and +evidence, be conducted in a confidential manner. + ``(c) Burden of Proof.--The burden of proof in any hearing conducted +under subsection (b) shall be on the party requesting the hearing to +show cause why the cease and desist order should be set aside. + ``(d) Determination.--Based upon the evidence presented at a hearing +under subsection (b), the cease and desist order involved may be +affirmed, modified, or set aside by the Secretary in whole or in part. + ``(e) Seizure.--The Secretary may issue a summary seizure order +under this title if it appears that a multiple employer welfare +arrangement is in a financially hazardous condition. + ``(f) Regulations.--The Secretary may promulgate such regulations or +other guidance as may be necessary or appropriate to carry out this +section. + ``(g) Exception.--This section shall not apply to any plan or +arrangement that does not fall within the meaning of the term `multiple +employer welfare arrangement' under section 3(40)(A).''. + (b) Conforming Amendment.--The table of sections for part 5 of +subtitle B of title I of the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of +1974, as amended by section 6604, is further amended by adding at the +end the following: + +``Sec. 521. Administrative summary cease and desist orders and summary + seizure orders against health plans in financially hazardous + condition.''. + +SEC. 6606. MEWA PLAN REGISTRATION WITH DEPARTMENT OF LABOR. + + Section 101(g) of the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of +1974 (29 U.S.C. 1021(g)) is amended-- + (1) by striking ``Secretary may'' and inserting ``Secretary + shall''; and + (2) by inserting ``to register with the Secretary prior to + operating in a State and may, by regulation, require such + multiple employer welfare arrangements'' after ``not group + health plans''. + +SEC. 6607. PERMITTING EVIDENTIARY PRIVILEGE AND CONFIDENTIAL + COMMUNICATIONS. + + Section 504 of the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 +(29 U.S.C. 1134) is amended by adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 782]] + + ``(d) The Secretary may promulgate a regulation that provides an +evidentiary privilege for, and provides for the confidentiality of +communications between or among, any of the following entities or their +agents, consultants, or employees: + ``(1) A State insurance department. + ``(2) A State attorney general. + ``(3) The National Association of Insurance Commissioners. + ``(4) The Department of Labor. + ``(5) The Department of the Treasury. + ``(6) The Department of Justice. + ``(7) The Department of Health and Human Services. + ``(8) Any other Federal or State authority that the + Secretary determines is appropriate for the purposes of + enforcing the provisions of this title. + + ``(e) <> The privilege established under +subsection (d) shall apply to communications related to any +investigation, audit, examination, or inquiry conducted or coordinated +by any of the agencies. A communication that is privileged under +subsection (d) shall not waive any privilege otherwise available to the +communicating agency or to any person who provided the information that +is communicated.''. + +Subtitle H <> --Elder Justice Act + +SEC. 6701. <> SHORT TITLE OF SUBTITLE. + + This subtitle may be cited as the ``Elder Justice Act of 2009''. + +SEC. 6702. <> DEFINITIONS. + + Except as otherwise specifically provided, any term that is defined +in section 2011 of the Social Security Act (as added by section 6703(a)) +and is used in this subtitle has the meaning given such term by such +section. + +SEC. 6703. ELDER JUSTICE. + + (a) Elder Justice.-- + (1) In general.--Title XX of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1397 et seq.) is amended-- + (A) in the heading, by inserting ``AND ELDER + JUSTICE'' after ``SOCIAL SERVICES''; + (B) by inserting before section 2001 the following: + + ``Subtitle A--Block Grants to States for Social Services''; + + and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + + ``Subtitle B--Elder Justice + +``SEC. 2011. <> DEFINITIONS. + + ``In this subtitle: + ``(1) Abuse.--The term `abuse' means the knowing infliction + of physical or psychological harm or the knowing deprivation of + goods or services that are necessary to meet essential needs or + to avoid physical or psychological harm. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 783]] + + ``(2) Adult protective services.--The term `adult protective + services' means such services provided to adults as the + Secretary may specify and includes services such as-- + ``(A) receiving reports of adult abuse, neglect, or + exploitation; + ``(B) investigating the reports described in + subparagraph (A); + ``(C) case planning, monitoring, evaluation, and + other case work and services; and + ``(D) providing, arranging for, or facilitating the + provision of medical, social service, economic, legal, + housing, law enforcement, or other protective, + emergency, or support services. + ``(3) Caregiver.--The term `caregiver' means an individual + who has the responsibility for the care of an elder, either + voluntarily, by contract, by receipt of payment for care, or as + a result of the operation of law, and means a family member or + other individual who provides (on behalf of such individual or + of a public or private agency, organization, or institution) + compensated or uncompensated care to an elder who needs + supportive services in any setting. + ``(4) Direct care.--The term `direct care' means care by an + employee or contractor who provides assistance or long-term care + services to a recipient. + ``(5) Elder.--The term `elder' means an individual age 60 or + older. + ``(6) Elder justice.--The term `elder justice' means-- + ``(A) from a societal perspective, efforts to-- + ``(i) prevent, detect, treat, intervene in, + and prosecute elder abuse, neglect, and + exploitation; and + ``(ii) protect elders with diminished capacity + while maximizing their autonomy; and + ``(B) from an individual perspective, the + recognition of an elder's rights, including the right to + be free of abuse, neglect, and exploitation. + ``(7) Eligible entity.--The term `eligible entity' means a + State or local government agency, Indian tribe or tribal + organization, or any other public or private entity that is + engaged in and has expertise in issues relating to elder justice + or in a field necessary to promote elder justice efforts. + ``(8) Exploitation.--The term `exploitation' means the + fraudulent or otherwise illegal, unauthorized, or improper act + or process of an individual, including a caregiver or fiduciary, + that uses the resources of an elder for monetary or personal + benefit, profit, or gain, or that results in depriving an elder + of rightful access to, or use of, benefits, resources, + belongings, or assets. + ``(9) Fiduciary.--The term `fiduciary'-- + ``(A) means a person or entity with the legal + responsibility-- + ``(i) to make decisions on behalf of and for + the benefit of another person; and + ``(ii) to act in good faith and with fairness; + and + ``(B) includes a trustee, a guardian, a conservator, + an executor, an agent under a financial power of + attorney or health care power of attorney, or a + representative payee. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 784]] + + ``(10) Grant.--The term `grant' includes a contract, + cooperative agreement, or other mechanism for providing + financial assistance. + ``(11) Guardianship.--The term `guardianship' means-- + ``(A) the process by which a State court determines + that an adult individual lacks capacity to make + decisions about self-care or property, and appoints + another individual or entity known as a guardian, as a + conservator, or by a similar term, as a surrogate + decisionmaker; + ``(B) the manner in which the court-appointed + surrogate decisionmaker carries out duties to the + individual and the court; or + ``(C) the manner in which the court exercises + oversight of the surrogate decisionmaker. + ``(12) Indian tribe.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `Indian tribe' has the + meaning given such term in section 4 of the Indian Self- + Determination and Education Assistance Act (25 U.S.C. + 450b). + ``(B) Inclusion of pueblo and rancheria.--The term + `Indian tribe' includes any Pueblo or Rancheria. + ``(13) Law enforcement.--The term `law enforcement' means + the full range of potential responders to elder abuse, neglect, + and exploitation including-- + ``(A) police, sheriffs, detectives, public safety + officers, and corrections personnel; + ``(B) prosecutors; + ``(C) medical examiners; + ``(D) investigators; and + ``(E) coroners. + ``(14) Long-term care.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `long-term care' means + supportive and health services specified by the + Secretary for individuals who need assistance because + the individuals have a loss of capacity for self-care + due to illness, disability, or vulnerability. + ``(B) Loss of capacity for self-care.--For purposes + of subparagraph (A), the term `loss of capacity for + self-care' means an inability to engage in 1 or more + activities of daily living, including eating, dressing, + bathing, management of one's financial affairs, and + other activities the Secretary determines appropriate. + ``(15) Long-term care facility.--The term `long-term care + facility' means a residential care provider that arranges for, + or directly provides, long-term care. + ``(16) Neglect.--The term `neglect' means-- + ``(A) the failure of a caregiver or fiduciary to + provide the goods or services that are necessary to + maintain the health or safety of an elder; or + ``(B) self-neglect. + ``(17) Nursing facility.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `nursing facility' has + the meaning given such term under section 1919(a). + ``(B) Inclusion of skilled nursing facility.--The + term `nursing facility' includes a skilled nursing + facility (as defined in section 1819(a)). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 785]] + + ``(18) Self-neglect.--The term `self-neglect' means an + adult's inability, due to physical or mental impairment or + diminished capacity, to perform essential self-care tasks + including-- + ``(A) obtaining essential food, clothing, shelter, + and medical care; + ``(B) obtaining goods and services necessary to + maintain physical health, mental health, or general + safety; or + ``(C) managing one's own financial affairs. + ``(19) Serious bodily injury.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `serious bodily injury' + means an injury-- + ``(i) involving extreme physical pain; + ``(ii) involving substantial risk of death; + ``(iii) involving protracted loss or + impairment of the function of a bodily member, + organ, or mental faculty; or + ``(iv) requiring medical intervention such as + surgery, hospitalization, or physical + rehabilitation. + ``(B) Criminal sexual abuse.--Serious bodily injury + shall be considered to have occurred if the conduct + causing the injury is conduct described in section 2241 + (relating to aggravated sexual abuse) or 2242 (relating + to sexual abuse) of title 18, United States Code, or any + similar offense under State law. + ``(20) Social.--The term `social', when used with respect to + a service, includes adult protective services. + ``(21) State legal assistance developer.--The term `State + legal assistance developer' means an individual described in + section 731 of the Older Americans Act of 1965. + ``(22) State long-term care ombudsman.--The term `State + Long-Term Care Ombudsman' means the State Long-Term Care + Ombudsman described in section 712(a)(2) of the Older Americans + Act of 1965. + +``SEC. 2012. <> GENERAL PROVISIONS. + + ``(a) Protection of Privacy.--In pursuing activities under this +subtitle, the Secretary shall ensure the protection of individual health +privacy consistent with the regulations promulgated under section 264(c) +of the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996 and +applicable State and local privacy regulations. + ``(b) Rule of Construction.--Nothing in this subtitle shall be +construed to interfere with or abridge an elder's right to practice his +or her religion through reliance on prayer alone for healing when this +choice-- + ``(1) is contemporaneously expressed, either orally or in + writing, with respect to a specific illness or injury which the + elder has at the time of the decision by an elder who is + competent at the time of the decision; + ``(2) is previously set forth in a living will, health care + proxy, or other advance directive document that is validly + executed and applied under State law; or + ``(3) may be unambiguously deduced from the elder's life + history. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 786]] + +``PART I--NATIONAL COORDINATION OF ELDER JUSTICE ACTIVITIES AND RESEARCH + + ``Subpart A--Elder Justice Coordinating Council and Advisory Board on + Elder Abuse, Neglect, and Exploitation + +``SEC. 2021. <> ELDER JUSTICE COORDINATING COUNCIL. + + ``(a) Establishment.--There is established within the Office of the +Secretary an Elder Justice Coordinating Council (in this section +referred to as the `Council'). + ``(b) Membership.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Council shall be composed of the + following members: + ``(A) The Secretary (or the Secretary's designee). + ``(B) The Attorney General (or the Attorney + General's designee). + ``(C) The head of each Federal department or agency + or other governmental entity identified by the Chair + referred to in subsection (d) as having + responsibilities, or administering programs, relating to + elder abuse, neglect, and exploitation. + ``(2) Requirement.--Each member of the Council shall be an + officer or employee of the Federal Government. + + ``(c) Vacancies.--Any vacancy in the Council shall not affect its +powers, but shall be filled in the same manner as the original +appointment was made. + ``(d) Chair.--The member described in subsection (b)(1)(A) shall be +Chair of the Council. + ``(e) Meetings.--The Council shall meet at least 2 times per year, +as determined by the Chair. + ``(f) Duties.-- + ``(1) <> In general.--The Council + shall make recommendations to the Secretary for the coordination + of activities of the Department of Health and Human Services, + the Department of Justice, and other relevant Federal, State, + local, and private agencies and entities, relating to elder + abuse, neglect, and exploitation and other crimes against + elders. + ``(2) Report.--Not later than the date that is 2 years after + the date of enactment of the Elder Justice Act of 2009 and every + 2 years thereafter, the Council shall submit to the Committee on + Finance of the Senate and the Committee on Ways and Means and + the Committee on Energy and Commerce of the House of + Representatives a report that-- + ``(A) describes the activities and accomplishments + of, and challenges faced by-- + ``(i) the Council; and + ``(ii) the entities represented on the + Council; and + ``(B) makes such recommendations for legislation, + model laws, or other action as the Council determines to + be appropriate. + + ``(g) Powers of the Council.-- + ``(1) Information from federal agencies.--Subject to the + requirements of section 2012(a), the Council may secure directly + from any Federal department or agency such information as the + Council considers necessary to carry out this section. Upon + +[[Page 124 STAT. 787]] + + request of the Chair of the Council, the head of such department + or agency shall furnish such information to the Council. + ``(2) Postal services.--The Council may use the United + States mails in the same manner and under the same conditions as + other departments and agencies of the Federal Government. + + ``(h) Travel Expenses.--The members of the Council shall not receive +compensation for the performance of services for the Council. The +members shall be allowed travel expenses, including per diem in lieu of +subsistence, at rates authorized for employees of agencies under +subchapter I of chapter 57 of title 5, United States Code, while away +from their homes or regular places of business in the performance of +services for the Council. Notwithstanding section 1342 of title 31, +United States Code, the Secretary may accept the voluntary and +uncompensated services of the members of the Council. + ``(i) Detail of Government Employees.--Any Federal Government +employee may be detailed to the Council without reimbursement, and such +detail shall be without interruption or loss of civil service status or +privilege. + ``(j) Status as Permanent Council.--Section 14 of the Federal +Advisory Committee Act (5 U.S.C. App.) shall not apply to the Council. + ``(k) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated such sums as are necessary to carry out this section. + +``SEC. 2022. <> ADVISORY BOARD ON ELDER ABUSE, + NEGLECT, AND EXPLOITATION. + + ``(a) Establishment.--There is established a board to be known as +the `Advisory Board on Elder Abuse, Neglect, and Exploitation' (in this +section referred to as the `Advisory Board') to create short- and long- +term multidisciplinary strategic plans for the development of the field +of elder justice and to make recommendations to the Elder Justice +Coordinating Council established under section 2021. + ``(b) Composition.--The Advisory Board shall be composed of 27 +members appointed by the Secretary from among members of the general +public who are individuals with experience and expertise in elder abuse, +neglect, and exploitation prevention, detection, treatment, +intervention, or prosecution. + ``(c) <> Solicitation +of Nominations.--The Secretary shall publish a notice in the Federal +Register soliciting nominations for the appointment of members of the +Advisory Board under subsection (b). + + ``(d) Terms.-- + ``(1) In general.--Each member of the Advisory Board shall + be appointed for a term of 3 years, except that, of the members + first appointed-- + ``(A) 9 shall be appointed for a term of 3 years; + ``(B) 9 shall be appointed for a term of 2 years; + and + ``(C) 9 shall be appointed for a term of 1 year. + ``(2) Vacancies.-- + ``(A) In general.--Any vacancy on the Advisory Board + shall not affect its powers, but shall be filled in the + same manner as the original appointment was made. + ``(B) Filling unexpired term.--An individual chosen + to fill a vacancy shall be appointed for the unexpired + term of the member replaced. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 788]] + + ``(3) Expiration of terms.--The term of any member shall not + expire before the date on which the member's successor takes + office. + + ``(e) Election of Officers.--The Advisory Board shall elect a Chair +and Vice Chair from among its members. The Advisory Board shall elect +its initial Chair and Vice Chair at its initial meeting. + ``(f) Duties.-- + ``(1) Enhance communication on promoting quality of, and + preventing abuse, neglect, and exploitation in, long-term + care.--The Advisory Board shall develop collaborative and + innovative approaches to improve the quality of, including + preventing abuse, neglect, and exploitation in, long-term care. + ``(2) Collaborative efforts to develop consensus around the + management of certain quality-related factors.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--The Advisory + Board shall establish multidisciplinary panels to + address, and develop consensus on, subjects relating to + improving the quality of long-term care. At least 1 such + panel shall address, and develop consensus on, methods + for managing resident-to-resident abuse in long-term + care. + ``(B) Activities conducted.--The multidisciplinary + panels established under subparagraph (A) shall examine + relevant research and data, identify best practices with + respect to the subject of the panel, determine the best + way to carry out those best practices in a practical and + feasible manner, and determine an effective manner of + distributing information on such subject. + ``(3) Report.--Not later than the date that is 18 months + after the date of enactment of the Elder Justice Act of 2009, + and annually thereafter, the Advisory Board shall prepare and + submit to the Elder Justice Coordinating Council, the Committee + on Finance of the Senate, and the Committee on Ways and Means + and the Committee on Energy and Commerce of the House of + Representatives a report containing-- + ``(A) information on the status of Federal, State, + and local public and private elder justice activities; + ``(B) recommendations (including recommended + priorities) regarding-- + ``(i) elder justice programs, research, + training, services, practice, enforcement, and + coordination; + ``(ii) coordination between entities pursuing + elder justice efforts and those involved in + related areas that may inform or overlap with + elder justice efforts, such as activities to + combat violence against women and child abuse and + neglect; and + ``(iii) activities relating to adult fiduciary + systems, including guardianship and other + fiduciary arrangements; + ``(C) recommendations for specific modifications + needed in Federal and State laws (including regulations) + or for programs, research, and training to enhance + prevention, detection, and treatment (including + diagnosis) of, intervention in (including investigation + of), and prosecution of elder abuse, neglect, and + exploitation; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 789]] + + ``(D) recommendations on methods for the most + effective coordinated national data collection with + respect to elder justice, and elder abuse, neglect, and + exploitation; and + ``(E) recommendations for a multidisciplinary + strategic plan to guide the effective and efficient + development of the field of elder justice. + + ``(g) Powers of the Advisory Board.-- + ``(1) Information from federal agencies.--Subject to the + requirements of section 2012(a), the Advisory Board may secure + directly from any Federal department or agency such information + as the Advisory Board considers necessary to carry out this + section. Upon request of the Chair of the Advisory Board, the + head of such department or agency shall furnish such information + to the Advisory Board. + ``(2) Sharing of data and reports.--The Advisory Board may + request from any entity pursuing elder justice activities under + the Elder Justice Act of 2009 or an amendment made by that Act, + any data, reports, or recommendations generated in connection + with such activities. + ``(3) Postal services.--The Advisory Board may use the + United States mails in the same manner and under the same + conditions as other departments and agencies of the Federal + Government. + + ``(h) Travel Expenses.--The members of the Advisory Board shall not +receive compensation for the performance of services for the Advisory +Board. The members shall be allowed travel expenses for up to 4 meetings +per year, including per diem in lieu of subsistence, at rates authorized +for employees of agencies under subchapter I of chapter 57 of title 5, +United States Code, while away from their homes or regular places of +business in the performance of services for the Advisory Board. +Notwithstanding section 1342 of title 31, United States Code, the +Secretary may accept the voluntary and uncompensated services of the +members of the Advisory Board. + ``(i) Detail of Government Employees.--Any Federal Government +employee may be detailed to the Advisory Board without reimbursement, +and such detail shall be without interruption or loss of civil service +status or privilege. + ``(j) Status as Permanent Advisory Committee.--Section 14 of the +Federal Advisory Committee Act (5 U.S.C. App.) shall not apply to the +advisory board. + ``(k) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated such sums as are necessary to carry out this section. + +``SEC. 2023. <> RESEARCH PROTECTIONS. + + ``(a) Guidelines.--The Secretary shall promulgate guidelines to +assist researchers working in the area of elder abuse, neglect, and +exploitation, with issues relating to human subject protections. + ``(b) Definition of Legally Authorized Representative for +Application of Regulations.--For purposes of the application of subpart +A of part 46 of title 45, Code of Federal Regulations, to research +conducted under this subpart, the term `legally authorized +representative' means, unless otherwise provided by law, the individual +or judicial or other body authorized under the applicable law to consent +to medical treatment on behalf of another person. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 790]] + +``SEC. 2024. <> AUTHORIZATION OF APPROPRIATIONS. + + ``There are authorized to be appropriated to carry out this +subpart-- + ``(1) for fiscal year 2011, $6,500,000; and + ``(2) for each of fiscal years 2012 through 2014, + $7,000,000. + + ``Subpart B--Elder Abuse, Neglect, and Exploitation Forensic Centers + +``SEC. 2031. <> ESTABLISHMENT AND SUPPORT + OF ELDER ABUSE, NEGLECT, AND EXPLOITATION FORENSIC CENTERS. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary, in consultation with the Attorney +General, shall make grants to eligible entities to establish and operate +stationary and mobile forensic centers, to develop forensic expertise +regarding, and provide services relating to, elder abuse, neglect, and +exploitation. + ``(b) Stationary Forensic Centers.--The Secretary shall make 4 of +the grants described in subsection (a) to institutions of higher +education with demonstrated expertise in forensics or commitment to +preventing or treating elder abuse, neglect, or exploitation, to +establish and operate stationary forensic centers. + ``(c) Mobile Centers.--The Secretary shall make 6 of the grants +described in subsection (a) to appropriate entities to establish and +operate mobile forensic centers. + ``(d) Authorized Activities.-- + ``(1) Development of forensic markers and methodologies.--An + eligible entity that receives a grant under this section shall + use funds made available through the grant to assist in + determining whether abuse, neglect, or exploitation occurred and + whether a crime was committed and to conduct research to + describe and disseminate information on-- + ``(A) forensic markers that indicate a case in which + elder abuse, neglect, or exploitation may have occurred; + and + ``(B) methodologies for determining, in such a case, + when and how health care, emergency service, social and + protective services, and legal service providers should + intervene and when the providers should report the case + to law enforcement authorities. + ``(2) Development of forensic expertise.--An eligible entity + that receives a grant under this section shall use funds made + available through the grant to develop forensic expertise + regarding elder abuse, neglect, and exploitation in order to + provide medical and forensic evaluation, therapeutic + intervention, victim support and advocacy, case review, and case + tracking. + ``(3) Collection of evidence.--The Secretary, in + coordination with the Attorney General, shall use data made + available by grant recipients under this section to develop the + capacity of geriatric health care professionals and law + enforcement to collect forensic evidence, including collecting + forensic evidence relating to a potential determination of elder + abuse, neglect, or exploitation. + + ``(e) Application.--To be eligible to receive a grant under this +section, an entity shall submit an application to the Secretary + +[[Page 124 STAT. 791]] + +at such time, in such manner, and containing such information as the +Secretary may require. + ``(f) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section-- + ``(1) for fiscal year 2011, $4,000,000; + ``(2) for fiscal year 2012, $6,000,000; and + ``(3) for each of fiscal years 2013 and 2014, $8,000,000. + + ``PART II--PROGRAMS TO PROMOTE ELDER JUSTICE + +``SEC. 2041. <> ENHANCEMENT OF LONG-TERM CARE. + + ``(a) Grants and Incentives for Long-Term Care Staffing.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall carry out activities, + including activities described in paragraphs (2) and (3), to + provide incentives for individuals to train for, seek, and + maintain employment providing direct care in long-term care. + ``(2) Specific programs to enhance training, recruitment, + and retention of staff.-- + ``(A) Coordination with secretary of labor to + recruit and train long-term care staff.--The Secretary + shall coordinate activities under this subsection with + the Secretary of Labor in order to provide incentives + for individuals to train for and seek employment + providing direct care in long-term care. + ``(B) <> Career ladders and wage or + benefit increases to increase staffing in long-term + care.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall make + grants to eligible entities to carry out programs + through which the entities-- + ``(I) offer, to employees who + provide direct care to residents of an + eligible entity or individuals receiving + community-based long-term care from an + eligible entity, continuing training and + varying levels of certification, based + on observed clinical care practices and + the amount of time the employees spend + providing direct care; and + ``(II) provide, or make arrangements + to provide, bonuses or other increased + compensation or benefits to employees + who achieve certification under such a + program. + ``(ii) Application.--To be eligible to receive + a grant under this subparagraph, an eligible + entity shall submit an application to the + Secretary at such time, in such manner, and + containing such information as the Secretary may + require (which may include evidence of + consultation with the State in which the eligible + entity is located with respect to carrying out + activities funded under the grant). + ``(iii) Authority to limit number of + applicants.--Nothing in this subparagraph shall be + construed as prohibiting the Secretary from + limiting the number of applicants for a grant + under this subparagraph. + ``(3) <> Specific programs to improve + management practices.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 792]] + + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall make grants + to eligible entities to enable the entities to provide + training and technical assistance. + ``(B) Authorized activities.--An eligible entity + that receives a grant under subparagraph (A) shall use + funds made available through the grant to provide + training and technical assistance regarding management + practices using methods that are demonstrated to promote + retention of individuals who provide direct care, such + as-- + ``(i) the establishment of standard human + resource policies that reward high performance, + including policies that provide for improved wages + and benefits on the basis of job reviews; + ``(ii) the establishment of motivational and + thoughtful work organization practices; + ``(iii) the creation of a workplace culture + that respects and values caregivers and their + needs; + ``(iv) the promotion of a workplace culture + that respects the rights of residents of an + eligible entity or individuals receiving + community-based long-term care from an eligible + entity and results in improved care for the + residents or the individuals; and + ``(v) the establishment of other programs that + promote the provision of high quality care, such + as a continuing education program that provides + additional hours of training, including on-the-job + training, for employees who are certified nurse + aides. + ``(C) Application.--To be eligible to receive a + grant under this paragraph, an eligible entity shall + submit an application to the Secretary at such time, in + such manner, and containing such information as the + Secretary may require (which may include evidence of + consultation with the State in which the eligible entity + is located with respect to carrying out activities + funded under the grant). + ``(D) Authority to limit number of applicants.-- + Nothing in this paragraph shall be construed as + prohibiting the Secretary from limiting the number of + applicants for a grant under this paragraph. + ``(4) Accountability measures.--The Secretary shall develop + accountability measures to ensure that the activities conducted + using funds made available under this subsection benefit + individuals who provide direct care and increase the stability + of the long-term care workforce. + ``(5) Definitions.--In this subsection: + ``(A) Community-based long-term care.--The term + `community-based long-term care' has the meaning given + such term by the Secretary. + ``(B) Eligible entity.--The term `eligible entity' + means the following: + ``(i) A long-term care facility. + ``(ii) A community-based long-term care entity + (as defined by the Secretary). + + ``(b) Certified EHR Technology Grant Program.-- + ``(1) Grants authorized.--The Secretary is authorized to + make grants to long-term care facilities for the purpose of + assisting such entities in offsetting the costs related to + purchasing, leasing, developing, and implementing certified EHR + +[[Page 124 STAT. 793]] + + technology (as defined in section 1848(o)(4)) designed to + improve patient safety and reduce adverse events and health care + complications resulting from medication errors. + ``(2) Use of grant funds.--Funds provided under grants under + this subsection may be used for any of the following: + ``(A) Purchasing, leasing, and installing computer + software and hardware, including handheld computer + technologies. + ``(B) Making improvements to existing computer + software and hardware. + ``(C) Making upgrades and other improvements to + existing computer software and hardware to enable e- + prescribing. + ``(D) Providing education and training to eligible + long-term care facility staff on the use of such + technology to implement the electronic transmission of + prescription and patient information. + ``(3) Application.-- + ``(A) In general.--To be eligible to receive a grant + under this subsection, a long-term care facility shall + submit an application to the Secretary at such time, in + such manner, and containing such information as the + Secretary may require (which may include evidence of + consultation with the State in which the long-term care + facility is located with respect to carrying out + activities funded under the grant). + ``(B) Authority to limit number of applicants.-- + Nothing in this subsection shall be construed as + prohibiting the Secretary from limiting the number of + applicants for a grant under this subsection. + ``(4) Participation in state health exchanges.--A long-term + care facility that receives a grant under this subsection shall, + where available, participate in activities conducted by a State + or a qualified State-designated entity (as defined in section + 3013(f) of the Public Health Service Act) under a grant under + section 3013 of the Public Health Service Act to coordinate care + and for other purposes determined appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(5) Accountability measures.--The Secretary shall develop + accountability measures to ensure that the activities conducted + using funds made available under this subsection help improve + patient safety and reduce adverse events and health care + complications resulting from medication errors. + + ``(c) Adoption of Standards for Transactions Involving Clinical Data +by Long-Term Care Facilities.-- + ``(1) Standards and compatibility.--The Secretary shall + adopt electronic standards for the exchange of clinical data by + long-term care facilities, including, where available, standards + for messaging and nomenclature. Standards adopted by the + Secretary under the preceding sentence shall be compatible with + standards established under part C of title XI, standards + established under subsections (b)(2)(B)(i) and (e)(4) of section + 1860D-4, standards adopted under section 3004 of the Public + Health Service Act, and general health information technology + standards. + ``(2) Electronic submission of data to the secretary.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 794]] + + ``(A) <> In general.-- + Not later than 10 years after the date of enactment of + the Elder Justice Act of 2009, the Secretary shall have + procedures in place to accept the optional electronic + submission of clinical data by long-term care facilities + pursuant to the standards adopted under paragraph (1). + ``(B) Rule of construction.--Nothing in this + subsection shall be construed to require a long-term + care facility to submit clinical data electronically to + the Secretary. + ``(3) Regulations.--The Secretary shall promulgate + regulations to carry out this subsection. Such regulations shall + require a State, as a condition of the receipt of funds under + this part, to conduct such data collection and reporting as the + Secretary determines are necessary to satisfy the requirements + of this subsection. + + ``(d) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section-- + ``(1) for fiscal year 2011, $20,000,000; + ``(2) for fiscal year 2012, $17,500,000; and + ``(3) for each of fiscal years 2013 and 2014, $15,000,000. + +``SEC. 2042. <> ADULT PROTECTIVE SERVICES + FUNCTIONS AND GRANT PROGRAMS. + + ``(a) Secretarial Responsibilities.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall ensure that the + Department of Health and Human Services-- + ``(A) provides funding authorized by this part to + State and local adult protective services offices that + investigate reports of the abuse, neglect, and + exploitation of elders; + ``(B) collects and disseminates data annually + relating to the abuse, exploitation, and neglect of + elders in coordination with the Department of Justice; + ``(C) develops and disseminates information on best + practices regarding, and provides training on, carrying + out adult protective services; + ``(D) conducts research related to the provision of + adult protective services; and + ``(E) provides technical assistance to States and + other entities that provide or fund the provision of + adult protective services, including through grants made + under subsections (b) and (c). + ``(2) Authorization of appropriations.--There are authorized + to be appropriated to carry out this subsection, $3,000,000 for + fiscal year 2011 and $4,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2012 + through 2014. + + ``(b) Grants To Enhance the Provision of Adult Protective +Services.-- + ``(1) Establishment.--There is established an adult + protective services grant program under which the Secretary + shall annually award grants to States in the amounts calculated + under paragraph (2) for the purposes of enhancing adult + protective services provided by States and local units of + government. + ``(2) Amount of payment.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to the availability of + appropriations and subparagraphs (B) and (C), the amount + paid to a State for a fiscal year under the program + under this + +[[Page 124 STAT. 795]] + + subsection shall equal the amount appropriated for that + year to carry out this subsection multiplied by the + percentage of the total number of elders who reside in + the United States who reside in that State. + ``(B) Guaranteed minimum payment amount.-- + ``(i) 50 states.--Subject to clause (ii), if + the amount determined under subparagraph (A) for a + State for a fiscal year is less than 0.75 percent + of the amount appropriated for such year, the + Secretary shall increase such determined amount so + that the total amount paid under this subsection + to the State for the year is equal to 0.75 percent + of the amount so appropriated. + ``(ii) + Territories. <> --In the + case of a State other than 1 of the 50 States, + clause (i) shall be applied as if each reference + to `0.75' were a reference to `0.1'. + ``(C) Pro rata reductions.--The Secretary shall make + such pro rata reductions to the amounts described in + subparagraph (A) as are necessary to comply with the + requirements of subparagraph (B). + ``(3) Authorized activities.-- + ``(A) Adult protective services.--Funds made + available pursuant to this subsection may only be used + by States and local units of government to provide adult + protective services and may not be used for any other + purpose. + ``(B) Use by agency.--Each State receiving funds + pursuant to this subsection shall provide such funds to + the agency or unit of State government having legal + responsibility for providing adult protective services + within the State. + ``(C) Supplement not supplant.--Each State or local + unit of government shall use funds made available + pursuant to this subsection to supplement and not + supplant other Federal, State, and local public funds + expended to provide adult protective services in the + State. + ``(4) State reports.--Each State receiving funds under this + subsection shall submit to the Secretary, at such time and in + such manner as the Secretary may require, a report on the number + of elders served by the grants awarded under this subsection. + ``(5) Authorization of appropriations.--There are authorized + to be appropriated to carry out this subsection, $100,000,000 + for each of fiscal years 2011 through 2014. + + ``(c) State Demonstration Programs.-- + ``(1) Establishment.--The Secretary shall award grants to + States for the purposes of conducting demonstration programs in + accordance with paragraph (2). + ``(2) Demonstration programs.--Funds made available pursuant + to this subsection may be used by States and local units of + government to conduct demonstration programs that test-- + ``(A) training modules developed for the purpose of + detecting or preventing elder abuse; + ``(B) methods to detect or prevent financial + exploitation of elders; + ``(C) methods to detect elder abuse; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 796]] + + ``(D) whether training on elder abuse forensics + enhances the detection of elder abuse by employees of + the State or local unit of government; or + ``(E) other matters relating to the detection or + prevention of elder abuse. + ``(3) Application.--To be eligible to receive a grant under + this subsection, a State shall submit an application to the + Secretary at such time, in such manner, and containing such + information as the Secretary may require. + ``(4) State reports.--Each State that receives funds under + this subsection shall submit to the Secretary a report at such + time, in such manner, and containing such information as the + Secretary may require on the results of the demonstration + program conducted by the State using funds made available under + this subsection. + ``(5) Authorization of appropriations.--There are authorized + to be appropriated to carry out this subsection, $25,000,000 for + each of fiscal years 2011 through 2014. + +``SEC. 2043. <> LONG-TERM CARE OMBUDSMAN PROGRAM + GRANTS AND TRAINING. + + ``(a) Grants To Support the Long-Term Care Ombudsman Program.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall make grants to + eligible entities with relevant expertise and experience in + abuse and neglect in long-term care facilities or long-term care + ombudsman programs and responsibilities, for the purpose of-- + ``(A) improving the capacity of State long-term care + ombudsman programs to respond to and resolve complaints + about abuse and neglect; + ``(B) conducting pilot programs with State long-term + care ombudsman offices or local ombudsman entities; and + ``(C) providing support for such State long-term + care ombudsman programs and such pilot programs (such as + through the establishment of a national long-term care + ombudsman resource center). + ``(2) Authorization of appropriations.--There are authorized + to be appropriated to carry out this subsection-- + ``(A) for fiscal year 2011, $5,000,000; + ``(B) for fiscal year 2012, $7,500,000; and + ``(C) for each of fiscal years 2013 and 2014, + $10,000,000. + + ``(b) Ombudsman Training Programs.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall establish programs to + provide and improve ombudsman training with respect to elder + abuse, neglect, and exploitation for national organizations and + State long-term care ombudsman programs. + ``(2) Authorization of appropriations.--There are authorized + to be appropriated to carry out this subsection, for each of + fiscal years 2011 through 2014, $10,000,000. + +``SEC. 2044. <> PROVISION OF INFORMATION + REGARDING, AND EVALUATIONS OF, ELDER JUSTICE PROGRAMS. + + ``(a) Provision of Information.--To be eligible to receive a grant +under this part, an applicant shall agree-- + ``(1) except as provided in paragraph (2), to provide the + eligible entity conducting an evaluation under subsection (b) of + the activities funded through the grant with such information + +[[Page 124 STAT. 797]] + + as the eligible entity may require in order to conduct such + evaluation; or + ``(2) in the case of an applicant for a grant under section + 2041(b), to provide the Secretary with such information as the + Secretary may require to conduct an evaluation or audit under + subsection (c). + + ``(b) Use of Eligible Entities To Conduct Evaluations.-- + ``(1) Evaluations required.--Except as provided in paragraph + (2), the Secretary shall-- + ``(A) reserve a portion (not less than 2 percent) of + the funds appropriated with respect to each program + carried out under this part; and + ``(B) use the funds reserved under subparagraph (A) + to provide assistance to eligible entities to conduct + evaluations of the activities funded under each program + carried out under this part. + ``(2) Certified ehr technology grant program not included.-- + The provisions of this subsection shall not apply to the + certified EHR technology grant program under section 2041(b). + ``(3) Authorized activities.--A recipient of assistance + described in paragraph (1)(B) shall use the funds made available + through the assistance to conduct a validated evaluation of the + effectiveness of the activities funded under a program carried + out under this part. + ``(4) Applications.--To be eligible to receive assistance + under paragraph (1)(B), an entity shall submit an application to + the Secretary at such time, in such manner, and containing such + information as the Secretary may require, including a proposal + for the evaluation. + ``(5) Reports.--Not later than a date specified by the + Secretary, an eligible entity receiving assistance under + paragraph (1)(B) shall submit to the Secretary, the Committee on + Ways and Means and the Committee on Energy and Commerce of the + House of Representatives, and the Committee on Finance of the + Senate a report containing the results of the evaluation + conducted using such assistance together with such + recommendations as the entity determines to be appropriate. + + ``(c) Evaluations and Audits of Certified EHR Technology Grant +Program by the Secretary.-- + ``(1) Evaluations.--The Secretary shall conduct an + evaluation of the activities funded under the certified EHR + technology grant program under section 2041(b). Such evaluation + shall include an evaluation of whether the funding provided + under the grant is expended only for the purposes for which it + is made. + ``(2) Audits.--The Secretary shall conduct appropriate + audits of grants made under section 2041(b). + +``SEC. 2045. <> REPORT. + + ``Not later than October 1, 2014, the Secretary shall submit to the +Elder Justice Coordinating Council established under section 2021, the +Committee on Ways and Means and the Committee on Energy and Commerce of +the House of Representatives, and the Committee on Finance of the Senate +a report-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 798]] + + ``(1) compiling, summarizing, and analyzing the information + contained in the State reports submitted under subsections + (b)(4) and (c)(4) of section 2042; and + ``(2) containing such recommendations for legislative or + administrative action as the Secretary determines to be + appropriate. + +``SEC. 2046. <> RULE OF CONSTRUCTION. + + ``Nothing in this subtitle shall be construed as-- + ``(1) limiting any cause of action or other relief related + to obligations under this subtitle that is available under the + law of any State, or political subdivision thereof; or + ``(2) creating a private cause of action for a violation of + this subtitle.''. + (2) Option for state plan under program for temporary + assistance for needy families.-- + (A) In general.--Section 402(a)(1)(B) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 602(a)(1)(B)) is amended by + adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(v) The document shall indicate whether the + State intends to assist individuals to train for, + seek, and maintain employment-- + ``(I) providing direct care in a + long-term care facility (as such terms + are defined under section 2011); or + ``(II) in other occupations related + to elder care determined appropriate by + the State for which the State identifies + an unmet need for service personnel, + and, if so, shall include an overview of such + assistance.''. + (B) <> Effective date.--The + amendment made by subparagraph (A) shall take effect on + January 1, 2011. + + (b) <> Protecting Residents of Long-Term +Care Facilities.-- + (1) National training institute for surveyors.-- + (A) In general. <> --The Secretary + of Health and Human Services shall enter into a contract + with an entity for the purpose of establishing and + operating a National Training Institute for Federal and + State surveyors. Such Institute shall provide and + improve the training of surveyors with respect to + investigating allegations of abuse, neglect, and + misappropriation of property in programs and long-term + care facilities that receive payments under title XVIII + or XIX of the Social Security Act. + (B) Activities carried out by the institute.--The + contract entered into under subparagraph (A) shall + require the Institute established and operated under + such contract to carry out the following activities: + (i) Assess the extent to which State agencies + use specialized surveyors for the investigation of + reported allegations of abuse, neglect, and + misappropriation of property in such programs and + long-term care facilities. + (ii) Evaluate how the competencies of + surveyors may be improved to more effectively + investigate reported allegations of such abuse, + neglect, and misappropriation of property, and + provide feedback to Federal and State agencies on + the evaluations conducted. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 799]] + + (iii) Provide a national program of training, + tools, and technical assistance to Federal and + State surveyors on investigating reports of such + abuse, neglect, and misappropriation of property. + (iv) Develop and disseminate information on + best practices for the investigation of such + abuse, neglect, and misappropriation of property. + (v) Assess the performance of State complaint + intake systems, in order to ensure that the intake + of complaints occurs 24 hours per day, 7 days a + week (including holidays). + (vi) To the extent approved by the Secretary + of Health and Human Services, provide a national + 24 hours per day, 7 days a week (including + holidays), back-up system to State complaint + intake systems in order to ensure optimum national + responsiveness to complaints of such abuse, + neglect, and misappropriation of property. + (vii) Analyze and report annually on the + following: + (I) The total number and sources of + complaints of such abuse, neglect, and + misappropriation of property. + (II) The extent to which such + complaints are referred to law + enforcement agencies. + (III) General results of Federal and + State investigations of such complaints. + (viii) Conduct a national study of the cost to + State agencies of conducting complaint + investigations of skilled nursing facilities and + nursing facilities under sections 1819 and 1919, + respectively, of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395i-3; 1396r), and making recommendations + to the Secretary of Health and Human Services with + respect to options to increase the efficiency and + cost-effectiveness of such investigations. + (C) Authorization.--There are authorized to be + appropriated to carry out this paragraph, for the period + of fiscal years 2011 through 2014, $12,000,000. + (2) Grants to state survey agencies.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human + Services shall make grants to State agencies that + perform surveys of skilled nursing facilities or nursing + facilities under sections 1819 or 1919, respectively, of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3; 1395r). + (B) Use of funds.--A grant awarded under + subparagraph (A) shall be used for the purpose of + designing and implementing complaint investigations + systems that-- + (i) promptly prioritize complaints in order to + ensure a rapid response to the most serious and + urgent complaints; + (ii) respond to complaints with optimum + effectiveness and timeliness; and + (iii) optimize the collaboration between local + authorities, consumers, and providers, including-- + (I) such State agency; + (II) the State Long-Term Care + Ombudsman; + (III) local law enforcement + agencies; + (IV) advocacy and consumer + organizations; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 800]] + + (V) State aging units; + (VI) Area Agencies on Aging; and + (VII) other appropriate entities. + (C) Authorization.--There are authorized to be + appropriated to carry out this paragraph, for each of + fiscal years 2011 through 2014, $5,000,000. + (3) Reporting of crimes in federally funded long-term care + facilities.--Part A of title XI of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1301 et seq.), as amended by section 6005, is amended by + inserting after section 1150A the following new section: + + + ``reporting to law enforcement of crimes occurring in federally funded + long-term care facilities + + + ``Sec. 1150B. <> (a) Determination and +Notification.-- + ``(1) Determination.--The owner or operator of each long- + term care facility that receives Federal funds under this Act + shall annually determine whether the facility received at least + $10,000 in such Federal funds during the preceding year. + ``(2) Notification.--If the owner or operator determines + under paragraph (1) that the facility received at least $10,000 + in such Federal funds during the preceding year, such owner or + operator shall annually notify each covered individual (as + defined in paragraph (3)) of that individual's obligation to + comply with the reporting requirements described in subsection + (b). + ``(3) Covered individual defined.--In this section, the term + `covered individual' means each individual who is an owner, + operator, employee, manager, agent, or contractor of a long-term + care facility that is the subject of a determination described + in paragraph (1). + + ``(b) Reporting Requirements.-- + ``(1) In general.--Each covered individual shall report to + the Secretary and 1 or more law enforcement entities for the + political subdivision in which the facility is located any + reasonable suspicion of a crime (as defined by the law of the + applicable political subdivision) against any individual who is + a resident of, or is receiving care from, the facility. + ``(2) Timing.--If the events that cause the suspicion-- + ``(A) result in serious bodily injury, the + individual shall report the suspicion immediately, but + not later than 2 hours after forming the suspicion; and + ``(B) do not result in serious bodily injury, the + individual shall report the suspicion not later than 24 + hours after forming the suspicion. + + ``(c) Penalties.-- + ``(1) In general.--If a covered individual violates + subsection (b)-- + ``(A) the covered individual shall be subject to a + civil money penalty of not more than $200,000; and + ``(B) the Secretary may make a determination in the + same proceeding to exclude the covered individual from + participation in any Federal health care program (as + defined in section 1128B(f)). + ``(2) Increased harm.--If a covered individual violates + subsection (b) and the violation exacerbates the harm to the + victim of the crime or results in harm to another individual-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 801]] + + ``(A) the covered individual shall be subject to a + civil money penalty of not more than $300,000; and + ``(B) the Secretary may make a determination in the + same proceeding to exclude the covered individual from + participation in any Federal health care program (as + defined in section 1128B(f)). + ``(3) Excluded individual.--During any period for which a + covered individual is classified as an excluded individual under + paragraph (1)(B) or (2)(B), a long-term care facility that + employs such individual shall be ineligible to receive Federal + funds under this Act. + ``(4) Extenuating circumstances.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary may take into + account the financial burden on providers with + underserved populations in determining any penalty to be + imposed under this subsection. + ``(B) Underserved population defined.--In this + paragraph, the term `underserved population' means the + population of an area designated by the Secretary as an + area with a shortage of elder justice programs or a + population group designated by the Secretary as having a + shortage of such programs. Such areas or groups + designated by the Secretary may include-- + ``(i) areas or groups that are geographically + isolated (such as isolated in a rural area); + ``(ii) racial and ethnic minority populations; + and + ``(iii) populations underserved because of + special needs (such as language barriers, + disabilities, alien status, or age). + + ``(d) Additional Penalties for Retaliation.-- + ``(1) In general.--A long-term care facility may not-- + ``(A) discharge, demote, suspend, threaten, harass, + or deny a promotion or other employment-related benefit + to an employee, or in any other manner discriminate + against an employee in the terms and conditions of + employment because of lawful acts done by the employee; + or + ``(B) file a complaint or a report against a nurse + or other employee with the appropriate State + professional disciplinary agency because of lawful acts + done by the nurse or employee, + for making a report, causing a report to be made, or for taking + steps in furtherance of making a report pursuant to subsection + (b)(1). + ``(2) Penalties for retaliation.--If a long-term care + facility violates subparagraph (A) or (B) of paragraph (1) the + facility shall be subject to a civil money penalty of not more + than $200,000 or the Secretary may classify the entity as an + excluded entity for a period of 2 years pursuant to section + 1128(b), or both. + ``(3) Requirement to post notice.--Each long-term care + facility shall post conspicuously in an appropriate location a + sign (in a form specified by the Secretary) specifying the + rights of employees under this section. Such sign shall include + a statement that an employee may file a complaint with the + Secretary against a long-term care facility that violates the + provisions of this subsection and information with respect to + the manner of filing such a complaint. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 802]] + + ``(e) Procedure. <> --The provisions of +section 1128A (other than subsections (a) and (b) and the second +sentence of subsection (f)) shall apply to a civil money penalty or +exclusion under this section in the same manner as such provisions apply +to a penalty or proceeding under section 1128A(a). + + ``(f) Definitions.--In this section, the terms `elder justice', +`long-term care facility', and `law enforcement' have the meanings given +those terms in section 2011.''. + (c) National Nurse Aide Registry.-- + (1) Definition of nurse aide.--In this subsection, the term + ``nurse aide'' has the meaning given that term in sections + 1819(b)(5)(F) and 1919(b)(5)(F) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395i-3(b)(5)(F); 1396r(b)(5)(F)). + (2) Study and report.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary, in consultation with + appropriate government agencies and private sector + organizations, shall conduct a study on establishing a + national nurse aide registry. + (B) Areas evaluated.--The study conducted under this + subsection shall include an evaluation of-- + (i) who should be included in the registry; + (ii) how such a registry would comply with + Federal and State privacy laws and regulations; + (iii) how data would be collected for the + registry; + (iv) what entities and individuals would have + access to the data collected; + (v) how the registry would provide appropriate + information regarding violations of Federal and + State law by individuals included in the registry; + (vi) how the functions of a national nurse + aide registry would be coordinated with the + nationwide program for national and State + background checks on direct patient access + employees of long-term care facilities and + providers under section 4301; and + (vii) how the information included in State + nurse aide registries developed and maintained + under sections 1819(e)(2) and 1919(e)(2) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(e)(2); + 1396r(e)(2)(2)) would be provided as part of a + national nurse aide registry. + (C) Considerations.--In conducting the study and + preparing the report required under this subsection, the + Secretary shall take into consideration the findings and + conclusions of relevant reports and other relevant + resources, including the following: + (i) The Department of Health and Human + Services Office of Inspector General Report, Nurse + Aide Registries: State Compliance and Practices + (February 2005). + (ii) The General Accounting Office (now known + as the Government Accountability Office) Report, + Nursing Homes: More Can Be Done to Protect + Residents from Abuse (March 2002). + (iii) The Department of Health and Human + Services Office of the Inspector General Report, + Nurse Aide Registries: Long-Term Care Facility + Compliance and Practices (July 2005). + +[[Page 124 STAT. 803]] + + (iv) The Department of Health and Human + Services Health Resources and Services + Administration Report, Nursing Aides, Home Health + Aides, and Related Health Care Occupations-- + National and Local Workforce Shortages and + Associated Data Needs (2004) (in particular with + respect to chapter 7 and appendix F). + (v) The 2001 Report to CMS from the School of + Rural Public Health, Texas A&M University, + Preventing Abuse and Neglect in Nursing Homes: The + Role of Nurse Aide Registries. + (vi) Information included in State nurse aide + registries developed and maintained under sections + 1819(e)(2) and 1919(e)(2) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395i-3(e)(2); 1396r(e)(2)(2)). + (D) Report.--Not later than 18 months after the date + of enactment of this Act, the Secretary shall submit to + the Elder Justice Coordinating Council established under + section 2021 of the Social Security Act, as added by + section 1805(a), the Committee on Finance of the Senate, + and the Committee on Ways and Means and the Committee on + Energy and Commerce of the House of Representatives a + report containing the findings and recommendations of + the study conducted under this paragraph. + (E) Funding limitation.--Funding for the study + conducted under this subsection shall not exceed + $500,000. + (3) Congressional action.--After receiving the report + submitted by the Secretary under paragraph (2)(D), the Committee + on Finance of the Senate and the Committee on Ways and Means and + the Committee on Energy and Commerce of the House of + Representatives shall, as they deem appropriate, take action + based on the recommendations contained in the report. + (4) Authorization of appropriations.--There are authorized + to be appropriated such sums as are necessary for the purpose of + carrying out this subsection. + + (d) Conforming Amendments.-- + (1) Title xx.--Title XX of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1397 et seq.), as amended by section 6703(a), is + amended-- + (A) in the heading of section 2001, <> by striking ``title'' and inserting + ``subtitle''; and + (B) in subtitle 1, <> by striking ``this title'' each + place it appears and inserting ``this subtitle''. + (2) Title iv.--Title IV of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 601 et seq.) is amended-- + (A) in section 404(d) <> -- + (i) in paragraphs (1)(A), (2)(A), and (3)(B), + by inserting ``subtitle 1 of'' before ``title XX'' + each place it appears; + (ii) in the heading of paragraph (2), by + inserting ``subtitle 1 of'' before ``title xx''; + and + (iii) in the heading of paragraph (3)(B), by + inserting ``subtitle 1 of'' before ``title xx''; + and + (B) in sections 422(b), 471(a)(4), 472(h)(1), and + 473(b)(2), <> by inserting + ``subtitle 1 of'' before ``title XX'' each place it + appears. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 804]] + + (3) Title xi.--Title XI of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1301 et seq.) is amended-- + (A) in section 1128(h)(3) <> -- + (i) by inserting ``subtitle 1 of'' before + ``title XX''; and + (ii) by striking ``such title'' and inserting + ``such subtitle''; and + (B) in section 1128A(i)(1), <> by inserting ``subtitle 1 of'' before ``title + XX''. + + Subtitle I--Sense of the Senate Regarding Medical Malpractice + +SEC. 6801. SENSE OF THE SENATE REGARDING MEDICAL MALPRACTICE. + + It is the sense of the Senate that-- + (1) health care reform presents an opportunity to address + issues related to medical malpractice and medical liability + insurance; + (2) States should be encouraged to develop and test + alternatives to the existing civil litigation system as a way of + improving patient safety, reducing medical errors, encouraging + the efficient resolution of disputes, increasing the + availability of prompt and fair resolution of disputes, and + improving access to liability insurance, while preserving an + individual's right to seek redress in court; and + (3) Congress should consider establishing a State + demonstration program to evaluate alternatives to the existing + civil litigation system with respect to the resolution of + medical malpractice claims. + + TITLE VII--IMPROVING ACCESS TO INNOVATIVE MEDICAL THERAPIES + + Subtitle A <> --Biologics Price Competition and Innovation + +SEC. 7001. <> SHORT TITLE. + + (a) In General.--This subtitle may be cited as the ``Biologics Price +Competition and Innovation Act of 2009''. + (b) Sense of the Senate.--It is the sense of the Senate that a +biosimilars pathway balancing innovation and consumer interests should +be established. + +SEC. 7002. APPROVAL PATHWAY FOR BIOSIMILAR BIOLOGICAL PRODUCTS. + + (a) Licensure of Biological Products as Biosimilar or +Interchangeable.--Section 351 of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 262) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)(1)(A), by inserting ``under this + subsection or subsection (k)'' after ``biologics license''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 805]] + + ``(k) Licensure of Biological Products as Biosimilar or +Interchangeable.-- + ``(1) In general.--Any person may submit an application for + licensure of a biological product under this subsection. + ``(2) Content.-- + ``(A) In general.-- + ``(i) Required information.--An application + submitted under this subsection shall include + information demonstrating that-- + ``(I) the biological product is + biosimilar to a reference product based + upon data derived from-- + ``(aa) analytical studies + that demonstrate that the + biological product is highly + similar to the reference product + notwithstanding minor + differences in clinically + inactive components; + ``(bb) animal studies + (including the assessment of + toxicity); and + ``(cc) a clinical study or + studies (including the + assessment of immunogenicity and + pharmacokinetics or + pharmacodynamics) that are + sufficient to demonstrate + safety, purity, and potency in 1 + or more appropriate conditions + of use for which the reference + product is licensed and intended + to be used and for which + licensure is sought for the + biological product; + ``(II) the biological product and + reference product utilize the same + mechanism or mechanisms of action for + the condition or conditions of use + prescribed, recommended, or suggested in + the proposed labeling, but only to the + extent the mechanism or mechanisms of + action are known for the reference + product; + ``(III) the condition or conditions + of use prescribed, recommended, or + suggested in the labeling proposed for + the biological product have been + previously approved for the reference + product; + ``(IV) the route of administration, + the dosage form, and the strength of the + biological product are the same as those + of the reference product; and + ``(V) the facility in which the + biological product is manufactured, + processed, packed, or held meets + standards designed to assure that the + biological product continues to be safe, + pure, and potent. + ``(ii) Determination by secretary.--The + Secretary may determine, in the Secretary's + discretion, that an element described in clause + (i)(I) is unnecessary in an application submitted + under this subsection. + ``(iii) Additional information.--An + application submitted under this subsection-- + ``(I) <> shall include publicly- + available information regarding the + Secretary's previous determination that + the reference product is safe, pure, and + potent; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 806]] + + ``(II) may include any additional + information in support of the + application, including publicly- + available information with respect to + the reference product or another + biological product. + ``(B) Interchangeability.--An application (or a + supplement to an application) submitted under this + subsection may include information demonstrating that + the biological product meets the standards described in + paragraph (4). + ``(3) Evaluation by secretary.--Upon review of an + application (or a supplement to an application) submitted under + this subsection, the Secretary shall license the biological + product under this subsection if-- + ``(A) <> the Secretary + determines that the information submitted in the + application (or the supplement) is sufficient to show + that the biological product-- + ``(i) is biosimilar to the reference product; + or + ``(ii) meets the standards described in + paragraph (4), and therefore is interchangeable + with the reference product; and + ``(B) the applicant (or other appropriate person) + consents to the inspection of the facility that is the + subject of the application, in accordance with + subsection (c). + ``(4) Safety standards for determining interchangeability.-- + Upon review of an application submitted under this subsection or + any supplement to such application, the Secretary shall + determine the biological product to be interchangeable with the + reference product if the Secretary determines that the + information submitted in the application (or a supplement to + such application) is sufficient to show that-- + ``(A) the biological product-- + ``(i) is biosimilar to the reference product; + and + ``(ii) can be expected to produce the same + clinical result as the reference product in any + given patient; and + ``(B) for a biological product that is administered + more than once to an individual, the risk in terms of + safety or diminished efficacy of alternating or + switching between use of the biological product and the + reference product is not greater than the risk of using + the reference product without such alternation or + switch. + ``(5) General rules.-- + ``(A) One reference product per application.--A + biological product, in an application submitted under + this subsection, may not be evaluated against more than + 1 reference product. + ``(B) Review.--An application submitted under this + subsection shall be reviewed by the division within the + Food and Drug Administration that is responsible for the + review and approval of the application under which the + reference product is licensed. + ``(C) Risk evaluation and mitigation + strategies. <> --The authority of + the Secretary with respect to risk evaluation and + mitigation strategies under the Federal Food, Drug, and + Cosmetic Act shall apply to biological products licensed + under this subsection in the same manner as + +[[Page 124 STAT. 807]] + + such authority applies to biological products licensed + under subsection (a). + ``(6) Exclusivity for first interchangeable biological + product.--Upon review of an application submitted under this + subsection relying on the same reference product for which a + prior biological product has received a determination of + interchangeability for any condition of use, the Secretary shall + not make a determination under paragraph (4) that the second or + subsequent biological product is interchangeable for any + condition of use until the earlier of-- + ``(A) 1 year after the first commercial marketing of + the first interchangeable biosimilar biological product + to be approved as interchangeable for that reference + product; + ``(B) 18 months after-- + ``(i) a final court decision on all patents in + suit in an action instituted under subsection + (l)(6) against the applicant that submitted the + application for the first approved interchangeable + biosimilar biological product; or + ``(ii) the dismissal with or without prejudice + of an action instituted under subsection (l)(6) + against the applicant that submitted the + application for the first approved interchangeable + biosimilar biological product; or + ``(C)(i) 42 months after approval of the first + interchangeable biosimilar biological product if the + applicant that submitted such application has been sued + under subsection (l)(6) and such litigation is still + ongoing within such 42-month period; or + ``(ii) 18 months after approval of the first + interchangeable biosimilar biological product if the + applicant that submitted such application has not been + sued under subsection (l)(6). + <> For purposes of this paragraph, the term + `final court decision' means a final decision of a court from + which no appeal (other than a petition to the United States + Supreme Court for a writ of certiorari) has been or can be + taken. + ``(7) Exclusivity for reference product.-- + ``(A) Effective date of biosimilar application + approval.--Approval of an application under this + subsection may not be made effective by the Secretary + until the date that is 12 years after the date on which + the reference product was first licensed under + subsection (a). + ``(B) Filing period.--An application under this + subsection may not be submitted to the Secretary until + the date that is 4 years after the date on which the + reference product was first licensed under subsection + (a). + ``(C) First licensure.--Subparagraphs (A) and (B) + shall not apply to a license for or approval of-- + ``(i) a supplement for the biological product + that is the reference product; or + ``(ii) a subsequent application filed by the + same sponsor or manufacturer of the biological + product that is the reference product (or a + licensor, predecessor in interest, or other + related entity) for-- + ``(I) a change (not including a + modification to the structure of the + biological product) that results + +[[Page 124 STAT. 808]] + + in a new indication, route of + administration, dosing schedule, dosage + form, delivery system, delivery device, + or strength; or + ``(II) a modification to the + structure of the biological product that + does not result in a change in safety, + purity, or potency. + ``(8) Guidance documents.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary may, after + opportunity for public comment, issue guidance in + accordance, except as provided in subparagraph (B)(i), + with section 701(h) of the Federal Food, Drug, and + Cosmetic Act with respect to the licensure of a + biological product under this subsection. Any such + guidance may be general or specific. + ``(B) Public comment.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall provide + the public an opportunity to comment on any + proposed guidance issued under subparagraph (A) + before issuing final guidance. + ``(ii) Input regarding most valuable + guidance.--The Secretary shall establish a process + through which the public may provide the Secretary + with input regarding priorities for issuing + guidance. + ``(C) No requirement for application + consideration.--The issuance (or non-issuance) of + guidance under subparagraph (A) shall not preclude the + review of, or action on, an application submitted under + this subsection. + ``(D) Requirement for product class-specific + guidance.--If the Secretary issues product class- + specific guidance under subparagraph (A), such guidance + shall include a description of-- + <> ``(i) the criteria that + the Secretary will use to determine whether a + biological product is highly similar to a + reference product in such product class; and + ``(ii) the criteria, if available, that the + Secretary will use to determine whether a + biological product meets the standards described + in paragraph (4). + ``(E) Certain product classes.-- + ``(i) Guidance.--The Secretary may indicate in + a guidance document that the science and + experience, as of the date of such guidance, with + respect to a product or product class (not + including any recombinant protein) does not allow + approval of an application for a license as + provided under this subsection for such product or + product class. + ``(ii) Modification or reversal.--The + Secretary may issue a subsequent guidance document + under subparagraph (A) to modify or reverse a + guidance document under clause (i). + ``(iii) No effect on ability to deny + license.--Clause (i) shall not be construed to + require the Secretary to approve a product with + respect to which the Secretary has not indicated + in a guidance document that the science and + experience, as described in clause (i), does not + allow approval of such an application. + + ``(l) Patents.-- + ``(1) Confidential access to subsection (k) application.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 809]] + + ``(A) Application of paragraph.--Unless otherwise + agreed to by a person that submits an application under + subsection (k) (referred to in this subsection as the + `subsection (k) applicant') and the sponsor of the + application for the reference product (referred to in + this subsection as the `reference product sponsor'), the + provisions of this paragraph shall apply to the exchange + of information described in this subsection. + ``(B) In general.-- + ``(i) Provision of confidential information.-- + When a subsection (k) applicant submits an + application under subsection (k), such applicant + shall provide to the persons described in clause + (ii), subject to the terms of this paragraph, + confidential access to the information required to + be produced pursuant to paragraph (2) and any + other information that the subsection (k) + applicant determines, in its sole discretion, to + be appropriate (referred to in this subsection as + the `confidential information'). + ``(ii) Recipients of information.--The persons + described in this clause are the following: + ``(I) Outside counsel.--One or more + attorneys designated by the reference + product sponsor who are employees of an + entity other than the reference product + sponsor (referred to in this paragraph + as the `outside counsel'), provided that + such attorneys do not engage, formally + or informally, in patent prosecution + relevant or related to the reference + product. + ``(II) In-house counsel.--One + attorney that represents the reference + product sponsor who is an employee of + the reference product sponsor, provided + that such attorney does not engage, + formally or informally, in patent + prosecution relevant or related to the + reference product. + ``(iii) Patent owner access.--A representative + of the owner of a patent exclusively licensed to a + reference product sponsor with respect to the + reference product and who has retained a right to + assert the patent or participate in litigation + concerning the patent may be provided the + confidential information, provided that the + representative informs the reference product + sponsor and the subsection (k) applicant of his or + her agreement to be subject to the confidentiality + provisions set forth in this paragraph, including + those under clause (ii). + ``(C) Limitation on disclosure.--No person that + receives confidential information pursuant to + subparagraph (B) shall disclose any confidential + information to any other person or entity, including the + reference product sponsor employees, outside scientific + consultants, or other outside counsel retained by the + reference product sponsor, without the prior written + consent of the subsection (k) applicant, which shall not + be unreasonably withheld. + ``(D) Use of confidential information.--Confidential + information shall be used for the sole and exclusive + purpose of determining, with respect to each patent + assigned to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 810]] + + or exclusively licensed by the reference product + sponsor, whether a claim of patent infringement could + reasonably be asserted if the subsection (k) applicant + engaged in the manufacture, use, offering for sale, + sale, or importation into the United States of the + biological product that is the subject of the + application under subsection (k). + ``(E) Ownership of confidential information.--The + confidential information disclosed under this paragraph + is, and shall remain, the property of the subsection (k) + applicant. By providing the confidential information + pursuant to this paragraph, the subsection (k) applicant + does not provide the reference product sponsor or the + outside counsel any interest in or license to use the + confidential information, for purposes other than those + specified in subparagraph (D). + ``(F) Effect of infringement action.--In the event + that the reference product sponsor files a patent + infringement suit, the use of confidential information + shall continue to be governed by the terms of this + paragraph until such time as a court enters a protective + order regarding the information. Upon entry of such + order, the subsection (k) applicant may redesignate + confidential information in accordance with the terms of + that order. No confidential information shall be + included in any publicly-available complaint or other + pleading. In the event that the reference product + sponsor does not file an infringement action by the date + specified in paragraph (6), the reference product + sponsor shall return or destroy all confidential + information received under this paragraph, provided that + if the reference product sponsor opts to destroy such + information, it will confirm destruction in writing to + the subsection (k) applicant. + ``(G) Rule of construction.--Nothing in this + paragraph shall be construed-- + ``(i) as an admission by the subsection (k) + applicant regarding the validity, enforceability, + or infringement of any patent; or + ``(ii) as an agreement or admission by the + subsection (k) applicant with respect to the + competency, relevance, or materiality of any + confidential information. + ``(H) Effect of violation.--The disclosure of any + confidential information in violation of this paragraph + shall be deemed to cause the subsection (k) applicant to + suffer irreparable harm for which there is no adequate + legal remedy and the court shall consider immediate + injunctive relief to be an appropriate and necessary + remedy for any violation or threatened violation of this + paragraph. + ``(2) Subsection (k) application information.-- + <> Not later than 20 days after + the Secretary notifies the subsection (k) applicant that the + application has been accepted for review, the subsection (k) + applicant-- + ``(A) shall provide to the reference product sponsor + a copy of the application submitted to the Secretary + under subsection (k), and such other information that + describes the process or processes used to manufacture + the biological product that is the subject of such + application; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 811]] + + ``(B) may provide to the reference product sponsor + additional information requested by or on behalf of the + reference product sponsor. + ``(3) <> List and description of + patents.-- + ``(A) List by reference product sponsor.--Not later + than 60 days after the receipt of the application and + information under paragraph (2), the reference product + sponsor shall provide to the subsection (k) applicant-- + ``(i) a list of patents for which the + reference product sponsor believes a claim of + patent infringement could reasonably be asserted + by the reference product sponsor, or by a patent + owner that has granted an exclusive license to the + reference product sponsor with respect to the + reference product, if a person not licensed by the + reference product sponsor engaged in the making, + using, offering to sell, selling, or importing + into the United States of the biological product + that is the subject of the subsection (k) + application; and + ``(ii) an identification of the patents on + such list that the reference product sponsor would + be prepared to license to the subsection (k) + applicant. + ``(B) List and description by subsection (k) + applicant.--Not later than 60 days after receipt of the + list under subparagraph (A), the subsection (k) + applicant-- + ``(i) may provide to the reference product + sponsor a list of patents to which the subsection + (k) applicant believes a claim of patent + infringement could reasonably be asserted by the + reference product sponsor if a person not licensed + by the reference product sponsor engaged in the + making, using, offering to sell, selling, or + importing into the United States of the biological + product that is the subject of the subsection (k) + application; + ``(ii) shall provide to the reference product + sponsor, with respect to each patent listed by the + reference product sponsor under subparagraph (A) + or listed by the subsection (k) applicant under + clause (i)-- + ``(I) a detailed statement that + describes, on a claim by claim basis, + the factual and legal basis of the + opinion of the subsection (k) applicant + that such patent is invalid, + unenforceable, or will not be infringed + by the commercial marketing of the + biological product that is the subject + of the subsection (k) application; or + ``(II) a statement that the + subsection (k) applicant does not intend + to begin commercial marketing of the + biological product before the date that + such patent expires; and + ``(iii) shall provide to the reference product + sponsor a response regarding each patent + identified by the reference product sponsor under + subparagraph (A)(ii). + ``(C) Description by reference product sponsor.--Not + later than 60 days after receipt of the list and + statement under subparagraph (B), the reference product + sponsor shall provide to the subsection (k) applicant a + detailed statement that describes, with respect to each + patent described in subparagraph (B)(ii)(I), on a claim + by + +[[Page 124 STAT. 812]] + + claim basis, the factual and legal basis of the opinion + of the reference product sponsor that such patent will + be infringed by the commercial marketing of the + biological product that is the subject of the subsection + (k) application and a response to the statement + concerning validity and enforceability provided under + subparagraph (B)(ii)(I). + ``(4) Patent resolution negotiations.-- + ``(A) In general.--After receipt by the subsection + (k) applicant of the statement under paragraph (3)(C), + the reference product sponsor and the subsection (k) + applicant shall engage in good faith negotiations to + agree on which, if any, patents listed under paragraph + (3) by the subsection (k) applicant or the reference + product sponsor shall be the subject of an action for + patent infringement under paragraph (6). + ``(B) Failure to reach agreement. <> --If, within 15 days of + beginning negotiations under subparagraph (A), the + subsection (k) applicant and the reference product + sponsor fail to agree on a final and complete list of + which, if any, patents listed under paragraph (3) by the + subsection (k) applicant or the reference product + sponsor shall be the subject of an action for patent + infringement under paragraph (6), the provisions of + paragraph (5) shall apply to the parties. + ``(5) Patent resolution if no agreement.-- + <> + ``(A) Number of patents.--The subsection (k) + applicant shall notify the reference product sponsor of + the number of patents that such applicant will provide + to the reference product sponsor under subparagraph + (B)(i)(I). + ``(B) Exchange of patent lists.-- + ``(i) In general. <> --On a + date agreed to by the subsection (k) applicant and + the reference product sponsor, but in no case + later than 5 days after the subsection (k) + applicant notifies the reference product sponsor + under subparagraph (A), the subsection (k) + applicant and the reference product sponsor shall + simultaneously exchange-- + ``(I) the list of patents that the + subsection (k) applicant believes should + be the subject of an action for patent + infringement under paragraph (6); and + ``(II) the list of patents, in + accordance with clause (ii), that the + reference product sponsor believes + should be the subject of an action for + patent infringement under paragraph (6). + ``(ii) Number of patents listed by reference + product sponsor.-- + ``(I) In general.--Subject to + subclause (II), the number of patents + listed by the reference product sponsor + under clause (i)(II) may not exceed the + number of patents listed by the + subsection (k) applicant under clause + (i)(I). + ``(II) Exception.--If a subsection + (k) applicant does not list any patent + under clause (i)(I), the reference + product sponsor may list 1 patent under + clause (i)(II). + ``(6) <> Immediate patent infringement + action.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 813]] + + ``(A) Action if agreement on patent list.--If the + subsection (k) applicant and the reference product + sponsor agree on patents as described in paragraph (4), + not later than 30 days after such agreement, the + reference product sponsor shall bring an action for + patent infringement with respect to each such patent. + ``(B) Action if no agreement on patent list.--If the + provisions of paragraph (5) apply to the parties as + described in paragraph (4)(B), not later than 30 days + after the exchange of lists under paragraph (5)(B), the + reference product sponsor shall bring an action for + patent infringement with respect to each patent that is + included on such lists. + ``(C) Notification and publication of complaint.-- + ``(i) Notification to secretary.--Not later + than 30 days after a complaint is served to a + subsection (k) applicant in an action for patent + infringement described under this paragraph, the + subsection (k) applicant shall provide the + Secretary with notice and a copy of such + complaint. + ``(ii) Publication by + secretary. <> --The Secretary shall + publish in the Federal Register notice of a + complaint received under clause (i). + ``(7) Newly issued or licensed patents.--In the case of a + patent that-- + ``(A) is issued to, or exclusively licensed by, the + reference product sponsor after the date that the + reference product sponsor provided the list to the + subsection (k) applicant under paragraph (3)(A); and + ``(B) the reference product sponsor reasonably + believes that, due to the issuance of such patent, a + claim of patent infringement could reasonably be + asserted by the reference product sponsor if a person + not licensed by the reference product sponsor engaged in + the making, using, offering to sell, selling, or + importing into the United States of the biological + product that is the subject of the subsection + (k) <> application, + not later than 30 days after such issuance or licensing, the + reference product sponsor shall provide to the subsection (k) + applicant a supplement to the list provided by the reference + product sponsor under paragraph (3)(A) that includes such + patent, not later than 30 days after such supplement is + provided, the subsection (k) applicant shall provide a statement + to the reference product sponsor in accordance with paragraph + (3)(B), and such patent shall be subject to paragraph (8). + ``(8) Notice of commercial marketing and preliminary + injunction.-- + ``(A) Notice of commercial + marketing. <> --The subsection (k) + applicant shall provide notice to the reference product + sponsor not later than 180 days before the date of the + first commercial marketing of the biological product + licensed under subsection (k). + ``(B) Preliminary injunction.--After receiving the + notice under subparagraph (A) and before such date of + the first commercial marketing of such biological + product, the reference product sponsor may seek a + preliminary injunction prohibiting the subsection (k) + applicant from + +[[Page 124 STAT. 814]] + + engaging in the commercial manufacture or sale of such + biological product until the court decides the issue of + patent validity, enforcement, and infringement with + respect to any patent that is-- + ``(i) included in the list provided by the + reference product sponsor under paragraph (3)(A) + or in the list provided by the subsection (k) + applicant under paragraph (3)(B); and + ``(ii) not included, as applicable, on-- + ``(I) the list of patents described + in paragraph (4); or + ``(II) the lists of patents + described in paragraph (5)(B). + ``(C) Reasonable cooperation.--If the reference + product sponsor has sought a preliminary injunction + under subparagraph (B), the reference product sponsor + and the subsection (k) applicant shall reasonably + cooperate to expedite such further discovery as is + needed in connection with the preliminary injunction + motion. + ``(9) Limitation on declaratory judgment action.-- + ``(A) Subsection (k) application provided.--If a + subsection (k) applicant provides the application and + information required under paragraph (2)(A), neither the + reference product sponsor nor the subsection (k) + applicant may, prior to the date notice is received + under paragraph (8)(A), bring any action under section + 2201 of title 28, United States Code, for a declaration + of infringement, validity, or enforceability of any + patent that is described in clauses (i) and (ii) of + paragraph (8)(B). + ``(B) Subsequent failure to act by subsection (k) + applicant.--If a subsection (k) applicant fails to + complete an action required of the subsection (k) + applicant under paragraph (3)(B)(ii), paragraph (5), + paragraph (6)(C)(i), paragraph (7), or paragraph (8)(A), + the reference product sponsor, but not the subsection + (k) applicant, may bring an action under section 2201 of + title 28, United States Code, for a declaration of + infringement, validity, or enforceability of any patent + included in the list described in paragraph (3)(A), + including as provided under paragraph (7). + ``(C) Subsection (k) application not provided.--If a + subsection (k) applicant fails to provide the + application and information required under paragraph + (2)(A), the reference product sponsor, but not the + subsection (k) applicant, may bring an action under + section 2201 of title 28, United States Code, for a + declaration of infringement, validity, or enforceability + of any patent that claims the biological product or a + use of the biological product.''. + + (b) Definitions.--Section 351(i) of the Public Health Service Act +(42 U.S.C. 262(i)) is amended-- + (1) by striking ``In this section, the term `biological + product' means'' and inserting the following: ``In this section: + ``(1) The term `biological product' means''; + (2) in paragraph (1), as so designated, by inserting + ``protein (except any chemically synthesized polypeptide),'' + after ``allergenic product,''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 815]] + + ``(2) The term `biosimilar' or `biosimilarity', in reference + to a biological product that is the subject of an application + under subsection (k), means-- + ``(A) that the biological product is highly similar + to the reference product notwithstanding minor + differences in clinically inactive components; and + ``(B) there are no clinically meaningful differences + between the biological product and the reference product + in terms of the safety, purity, and potency of the + product. + ``(3) The term `interchangeable' or `interchangeability', in + reference to a biological product that is shown to meet the + standards described in subsection (k)(4), means that the + biological product may be substituted for the reference product + without the intervention of the health care provider who + prescribed the reference product. + ``(4) The term `reference product' means the single + biological product licensed under subsection (a) against which a + biological product is evaluated in an application submitted + under subsection (k).''. + + (c) Conforming Amendments Relating to Patents.-- + (1) Patents.--Section 271(e) of title 35, United States + Code, is amended-- + (A) in paragraph (2)-- + (i) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``or'' at + the end; + (ii) in subparagraph (B), by adding ``or'' at + the end; and + (iii) by inserting after subparagraph (B) the + following: + ``(C)(i) with respect to a patent that is identified in the + list of patents described in section 351(l)(3) of the Public + Health Service Act (including as provided under section + 351(l)(7) of such Act), an application seeking approval of a + biological product, or + ``(ii) if the applicant for the application fails to provide + the application and information required under section + 351(l)(2)(A) of such Act, an application seeking approval of a + biological product for a patent that could be identified + pursuant to section 351(l)(3)(A)(i) of such Act,''; and + (iv) in the matter following subparagraph (C) + (as added by clause (iii)), by striking ``or + veterinary biological product'' and inserting ``, + veterinary biological product, or biological + product''; + (B) in paragraph (4)-- + (i) in subparagraph (B), by-- + (I) striking ``or veterinary + biological product'' and inserting ``, + veterinary biological product, or + biological product''; and + (II) striking ``and'' at the end; + (ii) in subparagraph (C), by-- + (I) striking ``or veterinary + biological product'' and inserting ``, + veterinary biological product, or + biological product''; and + (II) striking the period and + inserting ``, and''; + (iii) by inserting after subparagraph (C) the + following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 816]] + + ``(D) <> the court shall order a permanent + injunction prohibiting any infringement of the patent by the + biological product involved in the infringement until a date + which is not earlier than the date of the expiration of the + patent that has been infringed under paragraph (2)(C), provided + the patent is the subject of a final court decision, as defined + in section 351(k)(6) of the Public Health Service Act, in an + action for infringement of the patent under section 351(l)(6) of + such Act, and the biological product has not yet been approved + because of section 351(k)(7) of such Act.''; and + (iv) in the matter following subparagraph (D) + (as added by clause (iii)), by striking ``and + (C)'' and inserting ``(C), and (D)''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(6)(A) <> Subparagraph (B) applies, in lieu +of paragraph (4), in the case of a patent-- + ``(i) that is identified, as applicable, in the list of + patents described in section 351(l)(4) of the Public Health + Service Act or the lists of patents described in section + 351(l)(5)(B) of such Act with respect to a biological product; + and + ``(ii) for which an action for infringement of the patent + with respect to the biological product-- + ``(I) was brought after the expiration of the 30-day + period described in subparagraph (A) or (B), as + applicable, of section 351(l)(6) of such Act; or + ``(II) was brought before the expiration of the 30- + day period described in subclause (I), but which was + dismissed without prejudice or was not prosecuted to + judgment in good faith. + + ``(B) In an action for infringement of a patent described in +subparagraph (A), the sole and exclusive remedy that may be granted by a +court, upon a finding that the making, using, offering to sell, selling, +or importation into the United States of the biological product that is +the subject of the action infringed the patent, shall be a reasonable +royalty. + ``(C) The owner of a patent that should have been included in the +list described in section 351(l)(3)(A) of the Public Health Service Act, +including as provided under section 351(l)(7) of such Act for a +biological product, but was not timely included in such list, may not +bring an action under this section for infringement of the patent with +respect to the biological product.''. + (2) Conforming amendment under title 28.--Section 2201(b) of + title 28, United States Code, is amended by inserting before the + period the following: ``, or section 351 of the Public Health + Service Act''. + + (d) Conforming Amendments Under the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic +Act.-- + (1) Content and review of applications.--Section + 505(b)(5)(B) of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 + U.S.C. 355(b)(5)(B)) is amended by inserting before the period + at the end of the first sentence the following: ``or, with + respect to an applicant for approval of a biological product + under section 351(k) of the Public Health Service Act, any + necessary clinical study or studies''. + (2) New active ingredient.--Section 505B of the Federal + Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 355c) is amended by + adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 817]] + + ``(n) New Active Ingredient.-- + ``(1) Non-interchangeable biosimilar biological product.--A + biological product that is biosimilar to a reference product + under section 351 of the Public Health Service Act, and that the + Secretary has not determined to meet the standards described in + subsection (k)(4) of such section for interchangeability with + the reference product, shall be considered to have a new active + ingredient under this section. + ``(2) Interchangeable biosimilar biological product.--A + biological product that is interchangeable with a reference + product under section 351 of the Public Health Service Act shall + not be considered to have a new active ingredient under this + section.''. + + (e) <> Products Previously Approved Under +Section 505.-- + (1) Requirement to follow section 351.--Except as provided + in paragraph (2), an application for a biological product shall + be submitted under section 351 of the Public Health Service Act + (42 U.S.C. 262) (as amended by this Act). + (2) Exception.--An application for a biological product may + be submitted under section 505 of the Federal Food, Drug, and + Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 355) if-- + (A) such biological product is in a product class + for which a biological product in such product class is + the subject of an application approved under such + section 505 not later than the date of enactment of this + Act; and + (B) <> such application-- + (i) has been submitted to the Secretary of + Health and Human Services (referred to in this + subtitle as the ``Secretary'') before the date of + enactment of this Act; or + (ii) is submitted to the Secretary not later + than the date that is 10 years after the date of + enactment of this Act. + (3) Limitation.--Notwithstanding paragraph (2), an + application for a biological product may not be submitted under + section 505 of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 + U.S.C. 355) if there is another biological product approved + under subsection (a) of section 351 of the Public Health Service + Act that could be a reference product with respect to such + application (within the meaning of such section 351) if such + application were submitted under subsection (k) of such section + 351. + (4) Deemed approved under section 351 <> .--An approved application for a biological product + under section 505 of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act + (21 U.S.C. 355) shall be deemed to be a license for the + biological product under such section 351 on the date that is 10 + years after the date of enactment of this Act. + (5) Definitions.--For purposes of this subsection, the term + ``biological product'' has the meaning given such term under + section 351 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 262) (as + amended by this Act). + + (f) Follow-on Biologics User Fees.-- + (1) Development of user fees for biosimilar biological + products.-- + (A) In general. <> --Beginning not later than October 1, 2010, the + Secretary shall develop recommendations to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 818]] + + present to Congress with respect to the goals, and plans + for meeting the goals, for the process for the review of + biosimilar biological product applications submitted + under section 351(k) of the Public Health Service Act + (as added by this Act) for the first 5 fiscal years + after fiscal year 2012. <> In + developing such recommendations, the Secretary shall + consult with-- + (i) the Committee on Health, Education, Labor, + and Pensions of the Senate; + (ii) the Committee on Energy and Commerce of + the House of Representatives; + (iii) scientific and academic experts; + (iv) health care professionals; + (v) representatives of patient and consumer + advocacy groups; and + (vi) the regulated industry. + (B) Public review of recommendations.--After + negotiations with the regulated industry, the Secretary + shall-- + (i) present the recommendations developed + under subparagraph (A) to the Congressional + committees specified in such subparagraph; + (ii) <> publish such recommendations in the + Federal Register; + (iii) <> provide for a + period of 30 days for the public to provide + written comments on such recommendations; + (iv) hold a meeting at which the public may + present its views on such recommendations; and + (v) after consideration of such public views + and comments, revise such recommendations as + necessary. + (C) Transmittal of + recommendations. <> --Not later than + January 15, 2012, the Secretary shall transmit to + Congress the revised recommendations under subparagraph + (B), a summary of the views and comments received under + such subparagraph, and any changes made to the + recommendations in response to such views and comments. + (2) <> Establishment of user fee + program.--It is the sense of the Senate that, based on the + recommendations transmitted to Congress by the Secretary + pursuant to paragraph (1)(C), Congress should authorize a + program, effective on October 1, 2012, for the collection of + user fees relating to the submission of biosimilar biological + product applications under section 351(k) of the Public Health + Service Act (as added by this Act). + (3) Transitional provisions for user fees for biosimilar + biological products.-- + (A) Application of the prescription drug user fee + provisions.--Section 735(1)(B) of the Federal Food, + Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 379g(1)(B)) is amended + by striking ``section 351'' and inserting ``subsection + (a) or (k) of section 351''. + (B) <> Evaluation of costs + of reviewing biosimilar biological product + applications. <> --During the period + beginning on the date of enactment of this Act and + ending on October 1, 2010, the Secretary shall collect + and evaluate data regarding the costs of reviewing + applications for biological products submitted under + section 351(k) of the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 819]] + + Public Health Service Act (as added by this Act) during + such period. + (C) Audit.-- + (i) <> In general.--On + the date that is 2 years after first receiving a + user fee applicable to an application for a + biological product under section 351(k) of the + Public Health Service Act (as added by this Act), + and on a biennial basis thereafter until October + 1, 2013, the Secretary shall perform an audit of + the costs of reviewing such applications under + such section 351(k). Such an audit shall compare-- + (I) the costs of reviewing such + applications under such section 351(k) + to the amount of the user fee applicable + to such applications; and + (II)(aa) such ratio determined under + subclause (I); to + (bb) the ratio of the costs of + reviewing applications for biological + products under section 351(a) of such + Act (as amended by this Act) to the + amount of the user fee applicable to + such applications under such section + 351(a). + (ii) Alteration of user fee.--If the audit + performed under clause (i) indicates that the + ratios compared under subclause (II) of such + clause differ by more than 5 percent, then the + Secretary shall alter the user fee applicable to + applications submitted under such section 351(k) + to more appropriately account for the costs of + reviewing such applications. + (iii) Accounting standards.--The Secretary + shall perform an audit under clause (i) in + conformance with the accounting principles, + standards, and requirements prescribed by the + Comptroller General of the United States under + section 3511 of title 31, United State Code, to + ensure the validity of any potential variability. + (4) Authorization of appropriations.--There is authorized to + be appropriated to carry out this subsection such sums as may be + necessary for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2012. + + (g) Pediatric Studies of Biological Products.-- + (1) In general.--Section 351 of the Public Health Service + Act (42 U.S.C. 262) is amended by adding at the end the + following: + + ``(m) Pediatric Studies.-- + ``(1) Application of certain provisions.--The provisions of + subsections (a), (d), (e), (f), (i), (j), (k), (l), (p), and (q) + of section 505A of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act + shall apply with respect to the extension of a period under + paragraphs (2) and (3) to the same extent and in the same manner + as such provisions apply with respect to the extension of a + period under subsection (b) or (c) of section 505A of the + Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act. + ``(2) Market exclusivity for new biological products.--If, + prior <> to approval of an application + that is submitted under subsection (a), the Secretary determines + that information relating to the use of a new biological product + in the pediatric population may produce health benefits in that + population, the Secretary makes a written request for pediatric + studies + +[[Page 124 STAT. 820]] + + (which shall include a timeframe for completing such studies), + the applicant agrees to the request, such studies are completed + using appropriate formulations for each age group for which the + study is requested within any such timeframe, and the reports + thereof are submitted and accepted in accordance with section + 505A(d)(3) of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act-- + ``(A) the periods for such biological product + referred to in subsection (k)(7) are deemed to be 4 + years and 6 months rather than 4 years and 12 years and + 6 months rather than 12 years; and + ``(B) if the biological product is designated under + section 526 for a rare disease or condition, the period + for such biological product referred to in section + 527(a) is deemed to be 7 years and 6 months rather than + 7 years. + ``(3) Market exclusivity for already-marketed biological + products.--If the Secretary <> determines + that information relating to the use of a licensed biological + product in the pediatric population may produce health benefits + in that population and makes a written request to the holder of + an approved application under subsection (a) for pediatric + studies (which shall include a timeframe for completing such + studies), the holder agrees to the request, such studies are + completed using appropriate formulations for each age group for + which the study is requested within any such timeframe, and the + reports thereof are submitted and accepted in accordance with + section 505A(d)(3) of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act-- + ``(A) the periods for such biological product + referred to in subsection (k)(7) are deemed to be 4 + years and 6 months rather than 4 years and 12 years and + 6 months rather than 12 years; and + ``(B) if the biological product is designated under + section 526 for a rare disease or condition, the period + for such biological product referred to in section + 527(a) is deemed to be 7 years and 6 months rather than + 7 years. + ``(4) Exception.--The Secretary shall not extend a period + referred to in paragraph (2)(A), (2)(B), (3)(A), or (3)(B) if + the determination under section 505A(d)(3) is made later than 9 + months prior to the expiration of such period.''. + (2) Studies regarding pediatric research.-- + (A) Program for pediatric study of drugs.-- + Subsection (a)(1) of section 409I of the Public Health + Service Act (42 U.S.C. 284m) is amended by inserting ``, + biological products,'' after ``including drugs''. + (B) Institute of medicine study.--Section 505A(p) of + the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act <> (21 U.S.C. 355b(p)) is amended by striking + paragraphs (4) and (5) and inserting the following: + ``(4) review and assess the number and importance of + biological products for children that are being tested as a + result of the amendments made by the Biologics Price Competition + and Innovation Act of 2009 and the importance for children, + health care providers, parents, and others of labeling changes + made as a result of such testing; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 821]] + + ``(5) review and assess the number, importance, and + prioritization of any biological products that are not being + tested for pediatric use; and + ``(6) offer recommendations for ensuring pediatric testing + of biological products, including consideration of any + incentives, such as those provided under this section or section + 351(m) of the Public Health Service Act.''. + + (h) <> Orphan Products.--If a +reference product, as defined in section 351 of the Public Health +Service Act (42 U.S.C. 262) (as amended by this Act) has been designated +under section 526 of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. +360bb) for a rare disease or condition, a biological product seeking +approval for such disease or condition under subsection (k) of such +section 351 as biosimilar to, or interchangeable with, such reference +product may be licensed by the Secretary only after the expiration for +such reference product of the later of-- + (1) the 7-year period described in section 527(a) of the + Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 360cc(a)); and + (2) the 12-year period described in subsection (k)(7) of + such section 351. + +SEC. 7003. <> SAVINGS. + + (a) Determination.--The Secretary of the Treasury, in consultation +with the Secretary of Health and Human Services, shall for each fiscal +year determine the amount of savings to the Federal Government as a +result of the enactment of this subtitle. + (b) Use.--Notwithstanding any other provision of this subtitle (or +an amendment made by this subtitle), the savings to the Federal +Government generated as a result of the enactment of this subtitle shall +be used for deficit reduction. + + Subtitle B--More Affordable Medicines for Children and Underserved + Communities + +SEC. 7101. EXPANDED PARTICIPATION IN 340B PROGRAM. + + (a) Expansion of Covered Entities Receiving Discounted Prices.-- +Section 340B(a)(4) of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +256b(a)(4)) is amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(M) A children's hospital excluded from the + Medicare prospective payment system pursuant to section + 1886(d)(1)(B)(iii) of the Social Security Act, or a + free-standing cancer hospital excluded from the Medicare + prospective payment system pursuant to section + 1886(d)(1)(B)(v) of the Social Security Act, that would + meet the requirements of subparagraph (L), including the + disproportionate share adjustment percentage requirement + under clause (ii) of such subparagraph, if the hospital + were a subsection (d) hospital as defined by section + 1886(d)(1)(B) of the Social Security Act. + ``(N) An entity that is a critical access hospital + (as determined under section 1820(c)(2) of the Social + Security Act), and that meets the requirements of + subparagraph (L)(i). + ``(O) An entity that is a rural referral center, as + defined by section 1886(d)(5)(C)(i) of the Social + Security Act, or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 822]] + + a sole community hospital, as defined by section + 1886(d)(5)(C)(iii) of such Act, and that both meets the + requirements of subparagraph (L)(i) and has a + disproportionate share adjustment percentage equal to or + greater than 8 percent.''. + + (b) Extension of Discount to Inpatient Drugs.--Section 340B of the +Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 256b) is amended-- + (1) in paragraphs (2), (5), (7), and (9) of subsection (a), + by striking ``outpatient'' each place it appears; and + (2) in subsection (b)-- + (A) by striking ``Other Definition'' and all that + follows through ``In this section'' and inserting the + following: ``Other Definitions.-- + ``(1) In general.--In this section''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(2) Covered drug.--In this section, the term `covered + drug'-- + ``(A) means a covered outpatient drug (as defined in + section 1927(k)(2) of the Social Security Act); and + ``(B) includes, notwithstanding paragraph (3)(A) of + section 1927(k) of such Act, a drug used in connection + with an inpatient or outpatient service provided by a + hospital described in subparagraph (L), (M), (N), or (O) + of subsection (a)(4) that is enrolled to participate in + the drug discount program under this section.''. + + (c) Prohibition on Group Purchasing Arrangements.--Section 340B(a) +of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 256b(a)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (4)(L)-- + (A) in clause (i), by adding ``and'' at the end; + (B) in clause (ii), by striking ``; and'' and + inserting a period; and + (C) by striking clause (iii); and + (2) in paragraph (5), as amended by subsection (b)-- + (A) by redesignating subparagraphs (C) and (D) as + subparagraphs (D) and (E); respectively; and + (B) by inserting after subparagraph (B), the + following: + ``(C) Prohibition on group purchasing + arrangements.-- + ``(i) In general.--A hospital described in + subparagraph (L), (M), (N), or (O) of paragraph + (4) shall not obtain covered outpatient drugs + through a group purchasing organization or other + group purchasing arrangement, except as permitted + or provided for pursuant to clauses (ii) or (iii). + ``(ii) Inpatient drugs.--Clause (i) shall not + apply to drugs purchased for inpatient use. + ``(iii) Exceptions.--The Secretary shall + establish reasonable exceptions to clause (i)-- + ``(I) with respect to a covered + outpatient drug that is unavailable to + be purchased through the program under + this section due to a drug shortage + problem, manufacturer noncompliance, or + any other circumstance beyond the + hospital's control; + ``(II) to facilitate generic + substitution when a generic covered + outpatient drug is available at a lower + price; or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 823]] + + ``(III) to reduce in other ways the + administrative burdens of managing both + inventories of drugs subject to this + section and inventories of drugs that + are not subject to this section, so long + as the exceptions do not create a + duplicate discount problem in violation + of subparagraph (A) or a diversion + problem in violation of subparagraph + (B). + ``(iv) Purchasing arrangements for inpatient + drugs.--The Secretary shall ensure that a hospital + described in subparagraph (L), (M), (N), or (O) of + subsection (a)(4) that is enrolled to participate + in the drug discount program under this section + shall have multiple options for purchasing covered + drugs for inpatients, including by utilizing a + group purchasing organization or other group + purchasing arrangement, establishing and utilizing + its own group purchasing program, purchasing + directly from a manufacturer, and any other + purchasing arrangements that the Secretary + determines is appropriate to ensure access to drug + discount pricing under this section for inpatient + drugs taking into account the particular needs of + small and rural hospitals.''. + + (d) Medicaid Credits on Inpatient Drugs.--Section 340B of the Public +Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 256b) is amended by striking subsection +(c) and inserting the following: + ``(c) Medicaid Credit.--Not +later <> than 90 days after the date of +filing of the hospital's most recently filed Medicare cost report, the +hospital shall issue a credit as determined by the Secretary to the +State Medicaid program for inpatient covered drugs provided to Medicaid +recipients.''. + + (e) <> Effective Dates.-- + (1) In general.--The amendments made by this section and + section 7102 shall take effect on January 1, 2010, and shall + apply to drugs purchased on or after January 1, 2010. + (2) Effectiveness.--The amendments made by this section and + section 7102 shall be effective and shall be taken into account + in determining whether a manufacturer is deemed to meet the + requirements of section 340B(a) of the Public Health Service Act + (42 U.S.C. 256b(a)), notwithstanding any other provision of law. + +SEC. 7102. IMPROVEMENTS TO 340B PROGRAM INTEGRITY. + + (a) Integrity Improvements.--Subsection (d) of section 340B of the +Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 256b) is amended to read as +follows: + ``(d) Improvements in Program Integrity.-- + ``(1) Manufacturer compliance.-- + ``(A) In general.--From amounts appropriated under + paragraph (4), the Secretary shall provide for + improvements in compliance by manufacturers with the + requirements of this section in order to prevent + overcharges and other violations of the discounted + pricing requirements specified in this section. + ``(B) Improvements.--The improvements described in + subparagraph (A) shall include the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 824]] + + ``(i) The development of a system to enable + the Secretary to verify the accuracy of ceiling + prices calculated by manufacturers under + subsection (a)(1) and charged to covered entities, + which shall include the following: + ``(I) Developing and publishing + through an appropriate policy or + regulatory issuance, precisely defined + standards and methodology for the + calculation of ceiling prices under such + subsection. + ``(II) Comparing regularly the + ceiling prices calculated by the + Secretary with the quarterly pricing + data that is reported by manufacturers + to the Secretary. + ``(III) Performing spot checks of + sales transactions by covered entities. + ``(IV) Inquiring into the cause of + any pricing discrepancies that may be + identified and either taking, or + requiring manufacturers to take, such + corrective action as is appropriate in + response to such price discrepancies. + ``(ii) The <> + establishment of procedures for manufacturers to + issue refunds to covered entities in the event + that there is an overcharge by the manufacturers, + including the following: + ``(I) Providing the Secretary with + an explanation of why and how the + overcharge occurred, how the refunds + will be calculated, and to whom the + refunds will be issued. + ``(II) Oversight by the Secretary to + ensure that the refunds are issued + accurately and within a reasonable + period of time, both in routine + instances of retroactive adjustment to + relevant pricing data and exceptional + circumstances such as erroneous or + intentional overcharging for covered + drugs. + ``(iii) The provision of access through the + Internet website of the Department of Health and + Human Services to the applicable ceiling prices + for covered drugs as calculated and verified by + the Secretary in accordance with this section, in + a manner (such as through the use of password + protection) that limits such access to covered + entities and adequately assures security and + protection of privileged pricing data from + unauthorized re-disclosure. + ``(iv) The development of a mechanism by + which-- + ``(I) rebates and other discounts + provided by manufacturers to other + purchasers subsequent to the sale of + covered drugs to covered entities are + reported to the Secretary; and + ``(II) appropriate credits and + refunds are issued to covered entities + if such discounts or rebates have the + effect of lowering the applicable + ceiling price for the relevant quarter + for the drugs involved. + ``(v) Selective auditing of manufacturers and + wholesalers to ensure the integrity of the drug + discount program under this section. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 825]] + + ``(vi) The imposition of sanctions in the form + of civil monetary penalties, which-- + ``(I) shall be assessed according to + standards established in regulations to + be promulgated by the Secretary not + later than 180 days after the date of + enactment of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act; + ``(II) shall not exceed $5,000 for + each instance of overcharging a covered + entity that may have occurred; and + ``(III) <> + shall apply to any manufacturer with an + agreement under this section that + knowingly and intentionally charges a + covered entity a price for purchase of a + drug that exceeds the maximum applicable + price under subsection (a)(1). + ``(2) Covered entity compliance.-- + ``(A) In general.--From amounts appropriated under + paragraph (4), the Secretary shall provide for + improvements in compliance by covered entities with the + requirements of this section in order to prevent + diversion and violations of the duplicate discount + provision and other requirements specified under + subsection (a)(5). + ``(B) Improvements.--The improvements described in + subparagraph (A) shall include the following: + ``(i) <> The development + of procedures to enable and require covered + entities to regularly update (at least annually) + the information on the Internet website of the + Department of Health and Human Services relating + to this section. + ``(ii) The development of a system for the + Secretary to verify the accuracy of information + regarding covered entities that is listed on the + website described in clause (i). + ``(iii) <> The development + of more detailed guidance describing methodologies + and options available to covered entities for + billing covered drugs to State Medicaid agencies + in a manner that avoids duplicate discounts + pursuant to subsection (a)(5)(A). + ``(iv) The establishment of a single, + universal, and standardized identification system + by which each covered entity site can be + identified by manufacturers, distributors, covered + entities, and the Secretary for purposes of + facilitating the ordering, purchasing, and + delivery of covered drugs under this section, + including the processing of chargebacks for such + drugs. + ``(v) <> The + imposition of sanctions, in appropriate cases as + determined by the Secretary, additional to those + to which covered entities are subject under + subsection (a)(5)(E), through one or more of the + following actions: + ``(I) Where a covered entity + knowingly and intentionally violates + subsection (a)(5)(B), the covered entity + shall be required to pay a monetary + penalty to a manufacturer or + manufacturers in the form of interest on + sums for which the covered entity is + found liable under subsection (a)(5)(E), + such interest to be compounded monthly + and equal + +[[Page 124 STAT. 826]] + + to the current short term interest rate + as determined by the Federal Reserve for + the time period for which the covered + entity is liable. + ``(II) Where the Secretary + determines a violation of subsection + (a)(5)(B) was systematic and egregious + as well as knowing and intentional, + removing the covered entity from the + drug discount program under this section + and disqualifying the entity from re- + entry into such program for a reasonable + period of time to be determined by the + Secretary. + ``(III) Referring matters to + appropriate Federal authorities within + the Food and Drug Administration, the + Office of Inspector General of + Department of Health and Human Services, + or other Federal agencies for + consideration of appropriate action + under other Federal statutes, such as + the Prescription Drug Marketing Act (21 + U.S.C. 353). + ``(3) Administrative dispute resolution process.-- + ``(A) In general.--Not + later <> than 180 days + after the date of enactment of the Patient Protection + and Affordable Care Act, the Secretary shall promulgate + regulations to establish and implement an administrative + process for the resolution of claims by covered entities + that they have been overcharged for drugs purchased + under this section, and claims by manufacturers, after + the conduct of audits as authorized by subsection + (a)(5)(D), of violations of subsections (a)(5)(A) or + (a)(5)(B), including appropriate procedures for the + provision of remedies and enforcement of determinations + made pursuant to such process through mechanisms and + sanctions described in paragraphs (1)(B) and (2)(B). + ``(B) Deadlines and procedures.--Regulations + promulgated by the Secretary under subparagraph (A) + shall-- + ``(i) designate or establish a decision-making + official or decision-making body within the + Department of Health and Human Services to be + responsible for reviewing and finally resolving + claims by covered entities that they have been + charged prices for covered drugs in excess of the + ceiling price described in subsection (a)(1), and + claims by manufacturers that violations of + subsection (a)(5)(A) or (a)(5)(B) have occurred; + ``(ii) establish such deadlines and procedures + as may be necessary to ensure that claims shall be + resolved fairly, efficiently, and expeditiously; + ``(iii) establish procedures by which a + covered entity may discover and obtain such + information and documents from manufacturers and + third parties as may be relevant to demonstrate + the merits of a claim that charges for a + manufacturer's product have exceeded the + applicable ceiling price under this section, and + may submit such documents and information to the + administrative official or body responsible for + adjudicating such claim; + ``(iv) <> require that a + manufacturer conduct an audit of a covered entity + pursuant to subsection (a)(5)(D) + +[[Page 124 STAT. 827]] + + as a prerequisite to initiating administrative + dispute resolution proceedings against a covered + entity; + ``(v) permit the official or body designated + under clause (i), at the request of a manufacturer + or manufacturers, to consolidate claims brought by + more than one manufacturer against the same + covered entity where, in the judgment of such + official or body, consolidation is appropriate and + consistent with the goals of fairness and economy + of resources; and + ``(vi) include provisions and procedures to + permit multiple covered entities to jointly assert + claims of overcharges by the same manufacturer for + the same drug or drugs in one administrative + proceeding, and permit such claims to be asserted + on behalf of covered entities by associations or + organizations representing the interests of such + covered entities and of which the covered entities + are members. + ``(C) Finality of administrative resolution.--The + administrative resolution of a claim or claims under the + regulations promulgated under subparagraph (A) shall be + a final agency decision and shall be binding upon the + parties involved, unless invalidated by an order of a + court of competent jurisdiction. + ``(4) Authorization of appropriations.--There are authorized + to be appropriated to carry out this subsection, such sums as + may be necessary for fiscal year 2010 and each succeeding fiscal + year.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendments.--Section 340B(a) of the Public Health +Service Act (42 U.S.C. 256b(a)) is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)(1), by adding at the end the + following: ``Each such + agreement <> shall + require that the manufacturer furnish the Secretary with + reports, on a quarterly basis, of the price for each covered + drug subject to the agreement that, according to the + manufacturer, represents the maximum price that covered entities + may permissibly be required to pay for the drug (referred to in + this section as the `ceiling price'), and shall require that the + manufacturer offer each covered entity covered drugs for + purchase at or below the applicable ceiling price if such drug + is made available to any other purchaser at any price.''; and + (2) in the first sentence of subsection (a)(5)(E), as + redesignated by section 7101(c), by inserting ``after audit as + described in subparagraph (D) and'' after ``finds,''. + +SEC. 7103. GAO STUDY TO MAKE RECOMMENDATIONS ON IMPROVING THE 340B + PROGRAM. + + (a) Report.--Not later than 18 months after the date of enactment of +this Act, the Comptroller General of the United States shall submit to +Congress a report that examines whether those individuals served by the +covered entities under the program under section 340B of the Public +Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 256b) (referred to in this section as the +``340B program'') are receiving optimal health care services. + (b) Recommendations.--The report under subsection (a) shall include +recommendations on the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 828]] + + (1) Whether the 340B program should be expanded since it is + anticipated that the 47,000,000 individuals who are uninsured as + of the date of enactment of this Act will have health care + coverage once this Act is implemented. + (2) Whether mandatory sales of certain products by the 340B + program could hinder patients access to those therapies through + any provider. + (3) Whether income from the 340B program is being used by + the covered entities under the program to further the program + objectives. + + TITLE VIII--CLASS ACT <> + +SEC. 8001. SHORT TITLE OF TITLE. + + This title may be cited as the ``Community Living Assistance +Services and Supports Act'' or the ``CLASS Act''. + +SEC. 8002. ESTABLISHMENT OF NATIONAL VOLUNTARY INSURANCE PROGRAM FOR + PURCHASING COMMUNITY LIVING ASSISTANCE SERVICES AND SUPPORT. + + (a) Establishment of CLASS Program.-- + (1) In general.--The Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. + 201 et seq.), as amended by section 4302(a), is amended by + adding at the end the following: + + ``TITLE XXXII--COMMUNITY LIVING ASSISTANCE SERVICES AND SUPPORTS + +``SEC. 3201. <> PURPOSE. + + ``The purpose of this title is to establish a national voluntary +insurance program for purchasing community living assistance services +and supports in order to-- + ``(1) provide individuals with functional limitations with + tools that will allow them to maintain their personal and + financial independence and live in the community through a new + financing strategy for community living assistance services and + supports; + ``(2) establish an infrastructure that will help address the + Nation's community living assistance services and supports + needs; + ``(3) alleviate burdens on family caregivers; and + ``(4) address institutional bias by providing a financing + mechanism that supports personal choice and independence to live + in the community. + +``SEC. 3202. <> DEFINITIONS. + + ``In this title: + ``(1) Active enrollee.--The term `active enrollee' means an + individual who is enrolled in the CLASS program in accordance + with section 3204 and who has paid any premiums due to maintain + such enrollment. + ``(2) Actively employed.--The term `actively employed' means + an individual who-- + ``(A) is reporting for work at the individual's + usual place of employment or at another location to + which the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 829]] + + individual is required to travel because of the + individual's employment (or in the case of an individual + who is a member of the uniformed services, is on active + duty and is physically able to perform the duties of the + individual's position); and + ``(B) is able to perform all the usual and customary + duties of the individual's employment on the + individual's regular work schedule. + ``(3) Activities of daily living.--The term `activities of + daily living' means each of the following activities specified + in section 7702B(c)(2)(B) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986: + ``(A) Eating. + ``(B) Toileting. + ``(C) Transferring. + ``(D) Bathing. + ``(E) Dressing. + ``(F) Continence. + ``(4) CLASS program.--The term `CLASS program' means the + program established under this title. + ``(5) Eligibility assessment system.--The term `Eligibility + Assessment System' means the entity established by the Secretary + under section 3205(a)(2) to make functional eligibility + determinations for the CLASS program. + ``(6) Eligible beneficiary.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `eligible beneficiary' + means any individual who is an active enrollee in the + CLASS program and, as of the date described in + subparagraph (B)-- + ``(i) has paid premiums for enrollment in such + program for at least 60 months; + ``(ii) has earned, with respect to at least 3 + calendar years that occur during the first 60 + months for which the individual has paid premiums + for enrollment in the program, at least an amount + equal to the amount of wages and self-employment + income which an individual must have in order to + be credited with a quarter of coverage under + section 213(d) of the Social Security Act for the + year; and + ``(iii) has paid premiums for enrollment in + such program for at least 24 consecutive months, + if a lapse in premium payments of more than 3 + months has occurred during the period that begins + on the date of the individual's enrollment and + ends on the date of such determination. + ``(B) Date described.--For purposes of subparagraph + (A), the date described in this subparagraph is the date + on which the individual is determined to have a + functional limitation described in section 3203(a)(1)(C) + that is expected to last for a continuous period of more + than 90 days. + ``(C) Regulations.--The Secretary shall promulgate + regulations specifying exceptions to the minimum + earnings requirements under subparagraph (A)(ii) for + purposes of being considered an eligible beneficiary for + certain populations. + ``(7) Hospital; nursing facility; intermediate care facility + for the mentally retarded; institution for + +[[Page 124 STAT. 830]] + + mental diseases.--The terms `hospital', `nursing facility', + `intermediate care facility for the mentally retarded', and + `institution for mental diseases' have the meanings given such + terms for purposes of Medicaid. + ``(8) CLASS independence advisory council.--The term `CLASS + Independence Advisory Council' or `Council' means the Advisory + Council established under section 3207 to advise the Secretary. + ``(9) CLASS independence benefit plan.--The term `CLASS + Independence Benefit Plan' means the benefit plan developed and + designated by the Secretary in accordance with section 3203. + ``(10) CLASS independence fund.--The term `CLASS + Independence Fund' or `Fund' means the fund established under + section 3206. + ``(11) Medicaid.--The term `Medicaid' means the program + established under title XIX of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1396 et seq.). + ``(12) Poverty line.--The term `poverty line' has the + meaning given that term in section 2110(c)(5) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397jj(c)(5)). + ``(13) Protection and advocacy system.--The term `Protection + and Advocacy System' means the system for each State established + under section 143 of the Developmental Disabilities Assistance + and Bill of Rights Act of 2000 (42 U.S.C. 15043). + +``SEC. 3203. <> CLASS INDEPENDENCE BENEFIT PLAN. + + ``(a) Process for Development.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary, in consultation with + appropriate actuaries and other experts, shall develop at least + 3 actuarially sound benefit plans as alternatives for + consideration for designation by the Secretary as the CLASS + Independence Benefit Plan under which eligible beneficiaries + shall receive benefits under this title. Each of the plan + alternatives developed shall be designed to provide eligible + beneficiaries with the benefits described in section 3205 + consistent with the following requirements: + ``(A) Premiums.-- + ``(i) In general.--Beginning with the first + year of the CLASS program, and for each year + thereafter, subject to clauses (ii) and (iii), the + Secretary shall establish all premiums to be paid + by enrollees for the year based on an actuarial + analysis of the 75-year costs of the program that + ensures solvency throughout such 75-year period. + ``(ii) Nominal premium for poorest individuals + and full-time students.-- + ``(I) In general.--The monthly + premium for enrollment in the CLASS + program shall not exceed the applicable + dollar amount per month determined under + subclause (II) for-- + ``(aa) any individual whose + income does not exceed the + poverty line; and + ``(bb) any individual who + has not attained age 22, and is + actively employed during any + +[[Page 124 STAT. 831]] + + period in which the individual + is a full-time student (as + determined by the Secretary). + ``(II) Applicable dollar amount.-- + The applicable dollar amount described + in this subclause is the amount equal to + $5, increased by the percentage increase + in the consumer price index for all + urban consumers (U.S. city average) for + each year occurring after 2009 and + before such year. + ``(iii) Class independence fund reserves.--At + such time as the CLASS program has been in + operation for 10 years, the Secretary shall + establish all premiums to be paid by enrollees for + the year based on an actuarial analysis that + accumulated reserves in the CLASS Independence + Fund would not decrease in that year. At such + time <> as the Secretary + determines the CLASS program demonstrates a + sustained ability to finance expected yearly + expenses with expected yearly premiums and + interest credited to the CLASS Independence Fund, + the Secretary may decrease the required amount of + CLASS Independence Fund reserves. + ``(B) Vesting period.--A 5-year vesting period for + eligibility for benefits. + ``(C) Benefit triggers.--A benefit trigger for + provision of benefits that requires a determination that + an individual has a functional limitation, as certified + by a licensed health care practitioner, described in any + of the following clauses that is expected to last for a + continuous period of more than 90 days: + ``(i) The individual is determined to be + unable to perform at least the minimum number + (which may be 2 or 3) of activities of daily + living as are required under the plan for the + provision of benefits without substantial + assistance (as defined by the Secretary) from + another individual. + ``(ii) The individual requires substantial + supervision to protect the individual from threats + to health and safety due to substantial cognitive + impairment. + ``(iii) <> The individual + has a level of functional limitation similar (as + determined under regulations prescribed by the + Secretary) to the level of functional limitation + described in clause (i) or (ii). + ``(D) Cash benefit.--Payment of a cash benefit that + satisfies the following requirements: + ``(i) Minimum required amount.--The benefit + amount provides an eligible beneficiary with not + less than an average of $50 per day (as determined + based on the reasonably expected distribution of + beneficiaries receiving benefits at various + benefit levels). + ``(ii) Amount scaled to functional ability.-- + The benefit amount is varied based on a scale of + functional ability, with not less than 2, and not + more than 6, benefit level amounts. + ``(iii) Daily or weekly.--The benefit is paid + on a daily or weekly basis. + ``(iv) No lifetime or aggregate limit.--The + benefit is not subject to any lifetime or + aggregate limit. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 832]] + + ``(E) Coordination with supplemental coverage + obtained through the exchange.--The benefits allow for + coordination with any supplemental coverage purchased + through an Exchange established under section 1311 of + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act. + ``(2) Review and recommendation by the class independence + advisory council.--The CLASS Independence Advisory Council + shall-- + ``(A) evaluate the alternative benefit plans + developed under paragraph (1); and + ``(B) recommend for designation as the CLASS + Independence Benefit Plan for offering to the public the + plan that the Council determines best balances price and + benefits to meet enrollees' needs in an actuarially + sound manner, while optimizing the probability of the + long-term sustainability of the CLASS program. + ``(3) Designation by the secretary.--Not + later <> than October 1, 2012, the Secretary, + taking into consideration the recommendation of the CLASS + Independence Advisory Council under paragraph (2)(B), shall + designate a benefit plan as the CLASS Independence Benefit + Plan. <> + The Secretary shall publish such designation, along with details + of the plan and the reasons for the selection by the Secretary, + in a final rule that allows for a period of public comment. + + ``(b) Additional Premium Requirements.-- + ``(1) Adjustment of premiums.-- + ``(A) In general.--Except as provided in + subparagraphs (B), (C), (D), and (E), the amount of the + monthly premium determined for an individual upon such + individual's enrollment in the CLASS program shall + remain the same for as long as the individual is an + active enrollee in the program. + ``(B) Recalculated premium if required for program + solvency.-- + ``(i) <> In general.-- + Subject to clause (ii), if the Secretary + determines, based on the most recent report of the + Board of Trustees of the CLASS Independence Fund, + the advice of the CLASS Independence Advisory + Council, and the annual report of the Inspector + General of the Department of Health and Human + Services, and waste, fraud, and abuse, or such + other information as the Secretary determines + appropriate, that the monthly premiums and income + to the CLASS Independence Fund for a year are + projected to be insufficient with respect to the + 20-year period that begins with that year, the + Secretary shall adjust the monthly premiums for + individuals enrolled in the CLASS program as + necessary (but maintaining a nominal premium for + enrollees whose income is below the poverty line + or who are full-time students actively employed). + ``(ii) Exemption from increase.--Any increase + in a monthly premium imposed as result of a + determination described in clause (i) shall not + apply with respect to the monthly premium of any + active enrollee who-- + ``(I) has attained age 65; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 833]] + + ``(II) has paid premiums for + enrollment in the program for at least + 20 years; and + ``(III) is not actively employed. + ``(C) Recalculated premium if reenrollment after + more than a 3-month lapse.-- + ``(i) In general.--The reenrollment of an + individual after a 90-day period during which the + individual failed to pay the monthly premium + required to maintain the individual's enrollment + in the CLASS program shall be treated as an + initial enrollment for purposes of age-adjusting + the premium for enrollment in the program. + ``(ii) Credit for prior months if reenrolled + within 5 years.--An individual who reenrolls in + the CLASS program after such a 90-day period and + before the end of the 5-year period that begins + with the first month for which the individual + failed to pay the monthly premium required to + maintain the individual's enrollment in the + program shall be-- + ``(I) credited with any months of + paid premiums that accrued prior to the + individual's lapse in enrollment; and + ``(II) notwithstanding the total + amount of any such credited months, + required to satisfy section + 3202(6)(A)(ii) before being eligible to + receive benefits. + ``(D) No longer status as a full-time student.--An + individual subject to a nominal premium on the basis of + being described in subsection (a)(1)(A)(ii)(I)(bb) who + ceases to be described in that subsection, beginning + with the first month following the month in which the + individual ceases to be so described, shall be subject + to the same monthly premium as the monthly premium that + applies to an individual of the same age who first + enrolls in the program under the most similar + circumstances as the individual (such as the first year + of eligibility for enrollment in the program or in a + subsequent year). + ``(E) Penalty for reenollment after 5-year lapse.-- + In the case of an individual who reenrolls in the CLASS + program after the end of the 5-year period described in + subparagraph (C)(ii), the monthly premium required for + the individual shall be the age-adjusted premium that + would be applicable to an initially enrolling individual + who is the same age as the reenrolling individual, + increased by the greater of-- + ``(i) an amount that the Secretary determines + is actuarially sound for each month that occurs + during the period that begins with the first month + for which the individual failed to pay the monthly + premium required to maintain the individual's + enrollment in the CLASS program and ends with the + month preceding the month in which the reenollment + is effective; or + ``(ii) 1 percent of the applicable age- + adjusted premium for each such month occurring in + such period. + ``(2) Administrative expenses.--In determining the monthly + premiums for the CLASS program the Secretary may + +[[Page 124 STAT. 834]] + + factor in costs for administering the program, not to exceed for + any year in which the program is in effect under this title, an + amount equal to 3 percent of all premiums paid during the year. + ``(3) No underwriting requirements.--No underwriting (other + than on the basis of age in accordance with subparagraphs (D) + and (E) of paragraph (1)) shall be used to-- + ``(A) determine the monthly premium for enrollment + in the CLASS program; or + ``(B) prevent an individual from enrolling in the + program. + + ``(c) <> Self-attestation and Verification of +Income.--The Secretary shall establish procedures to-- + ``(1) permit an individual who is eligible for the nominal + premium required under subsection (a)(1)(A)(ii), as part of + their automatic enrollment in the CLASS program, to self-attest + that their income does not exceed the poverty line or that their + status as a full-time student who is actively employed; + ``(2) verify, using procedures similar to the procedures + used by the Commissioner of Social Security under section + 1631(e)(1)(B)(ii) of the Social Security Act and consistent with + the requirements applicable to the conveyance of data and + information under section 1942 of such Act, the validity of such + self-attestation; and + ``(3) require an individual to confirm, on at least an + annual basis, that their income does not exceed the poverty line + or that they continue to maintain such status. + +``SEC. 3204. <> ENROLLMENT AND DISENROLLMENT + REQUIREMENTS. + + ``(a) <> Automatic Enrollment.-- + ``(1) In general.--Subject to paragraph (2), the Secretary, + in coordination with the Secretary of the Treasury, shall + establish procedures under which each individual described in + subsection (c) may be automatically enrolled in the CLASS + program by an employer of such individual in the same manner as + an employer may elect to automatically enroll employees in a + plan under section 401(k), 403(b), or 457 of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986. + ``(2) Alternative enrollment procedures.--The procedures + established under paragraph (1) shall provide for an alternative + enrollment process for an individual described in subsection (c) + in the case of such an individual-- + ``(A) who is self-employed; + ``(B) who has more than 1 employer; or + ``(C) whose employer does not elect to participate + in the automatic enrollment process established by the + Secretary. + ``(3) Administration.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--The + Secretary and the Secretary of the Treasury shall, by + regulation, establish procedures to ensure that an + individual is not automatically enrolled in the CLASS + program by more than 1 employer. + ``(B) Form.--Enrollment in the CLASS program shall + be made in such manner as the Secretary may prescribe in + order to ensure ease of administration. + + ``(b) Election to Opt-Out.--An individual described in subsection +(c) may elect to waive enrollment in the CLASS program + +[[Page 124 STAT. 835]] + +at any time in such form and manner as the Secretary and the Secretary +of the Treasury shall prescribe. + ``(c) Individual Described.--For purposes of enrolling in the CLASS +program, an individual described in this paragraph is an individual-- + ``(1) who has attained age 18; + ``(2) who-- + ``(A) receives wages on which there is imposed a tax + under section 3201(a) of the Internal Revenue Code of + 1986; or + ``(B) derives self-employment income on which there + is imposed a tax under section 1401(a) of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986; + ``(3) who is actively employed; and + ``(4) who is not-- + ``(A) a patient in a hospital or nursing facility, + an intermediate care facility for the mentally retarded, + or an institution for mental diseases and receiving + medical assistance under Medicaid; or + ``(B) confined in a jail, prison, other penal + institution or correctional facility, or by court order + pursuant to conviction of a criminal offense or in + connection with a verdict or finding described in + section 202(x)(1)(A)(ii) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 402(x)(1)(A)(ii)). + + ``(d) Rule of Construction.--Nothing in this title shall be +construed as requiring an active enrollee to continue to satisfy +subparagraph (B) or (C) of subsection (c)(1) in order to maintain +enrollment in the CLASS program. + ``(e) Payment.-- + ``(1) Payroll deduction.--An amount equal to the monthly + premium for the enrollment in the CLASS program of an individual + shall be deducted from the wages or self-employment income of + such individual in accordance with such procedures as the + Secretary, in coordination with the Secretary of the Treasury, + shall establish for employers who elect to deduct and withhold + such premiums on behalf of enrolled employees. + ``(2) Alternative payment mechanism.--The Secretary, in + coordination with the Secretary of the Treasury, shall establish + alternative procedures for the payment of monthly premiums by an + individual enrolled in the CLASS program-- + ``(A) who does not have an employer who elects to + deduct and withhold premiums in accordance with + subparagraph (A); or + ``(B) who does not earn wages or derive self- + employment income. + + ``(f) Transfer of Premiums Collected.-- + ``(1) In general.--During each calendar year the Secretary + of the Treasury shall deposit into the CLASS Independence Fund a + total amount equal, in the aggregate, to 100 percent of the + premiums collected during that year. + ``(2) Transfers based on estimates.--The amount deposited + pursuant to paragraph (1) shall be transferred in at least + monthly payments to the CLASS Independence Fund on the basis of + estimates by the Secretary and certified to the Secretary of the + Treasury of the amounts collected in accordance with + subparagraphs (A) and (B) of paragraph (5). Proper adjustments + shall be made in amounts subsequently transferred to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 836]] + + the Fund to the extent prior estimates were in excess of, or + were less than, actual amounts collected. + + ``(g) Other Enrollment and Disenrollment Opportunities.--The +Secretary, <> in coordination with the Secretary of +the Treasury, shall establish procedures under which-- + ``(1) an individual who, in the year of the individual's + initial eligibility to enroll in the CLASS program, has elected + to waive enrollment in the program, is eligible to elect to + enroll in the program, in such form and manner as the + Secretaries shall establish, only during an open enrollment + period established by the Secretaries that is specific to the + individual and that may not occur more frequently than + biennially after the date on which the individual first elected + to waive enrollment in the program; and + ``(2) an individual shall only be permitted to disenroll + from the program (other than for nonpayment of premiums) during + an annual disenrollment period established by the Secretaries + and in such form and manner as the Secretaries shall establish. + +``SEC. 3205. <> BENEFITS. + + ``(a) Determination of Eligibility.-- + ``(1) Application for receipt of benefits.--The Secretary + shall establish procedures under which an active enrollee shall + apply for receipt of benefits under the CLASS Independence + Benefit Plan. + ``(2) Eligibility assessments.-- + ``(A) In general.--Not + later <> than January 1, + 2012, the Secretary shall-- + ``(i) establish an Eligibility Assessment + System (other than a service with which the + Commissioner of Social Security has entered into + an agreement, with respect to any State, to make + disability determinations for purposes of title II + or XVI of the Social Security Act) to provide for + eligibility assessments of active enrollees who + apply for receipt of benefits; + ``(ii) enter into an agreement with the + Protection and Advocacy System for each State to + provide advocacy services in accordance with + subsection (d); and + ``(iii) enter into an agreement with public + and private entities to provide advice and + assistance counseling in accordance with + subsection (e). + ``(B) Regulations.--The Secretary shall promulgate + regulations to develop an expedited nationally equitable + eligibility determination process, as certified by a + licensed health care practitioner, an appeals process, + and a redetermination process, as certified by a + licensed health care practitioner, including whether an + active enrollee is eligible for a cash benefit under the + program and if so, the amount of the cash benefit (in + accordance the sliding scale established under the + plan). + ``(C) Presumptive eligibility for certain + institutionalized enrollees planning to discharge.--An + active enrollee shall be deemed presumptively eligible + if the enrollee-- + ``(i) has applied for, and attests is eligible + for, the maximum cash benefit available under the + sliding + +[[Page 124 STAT. 837]] + + scale established under the CLASS Independence + Benefit Plan; + ``(ii) is a patient in a hospital (but only if + the hospitalization is for long-term care), + nursing facility, intermediate care facility for + the mentally retarded, or an institution for + mental diseases; and + ``(iii) <> is in the process + of, or about to begin the process of, planning to + discharge from the hospital, facility, or + institution, or within 60 days from the date of + discharge from the hospital, facility, or + institution. + ``(D) Appeals.--The Secretary <> + shall establish procedures under which an applicant for + benefits under the CLASS Independence Benefit Plan shall + be guaranteed the right to appeal an adverse + determination. + + ``(b) Benefits.--An eligible beneficiary shall receive the following +benefits under the CLASS Independence Benefit Plan: + ``(1) Cash benefit.--A cash benefit established by the + Secretary in accordance with the requirements of section + 3203(a)(1)(D) that-- + ``(A) the first year in which beneficiaries receive + the benefits under the plan, is not less than the + average dollar amount specified in clause (i) of such + section; and + ``(B) for any subsequent year, is not less than the + average per day dollar limit applicable under this + subparagraph for the preceding year, increased by the + percentage increase in the consumer price index for all + urban consumers (U.S. city average) over the previous + year. + ``(2) Advocacy services.--Advocacy services in accordance + with subsection (d). + ``(3) Advice and assistance counseling.--Advice and + assistance counseling in accordance with subsection (e). + ``(4) Administrative expenses.--Advocacy services and advise + and assistance counseling services under paragraphs (2) and (3) + of this subsection shall be included as administrative expenses + under section 3203(b)(3). + + ``(c) Payment of Benefits.-- + ``(1) Life independence account.-- + ``(A) In general.--The + Secretary <> shall establish + procedures for administering the provision of benefits + to eligible beneficiaries under the CLASS Independence + Benefit Plan, including the payment of the cash benefit + for the beneficiary into a Life Independence Account + established by the Secretary on behalf of each eligible + beneficiary. + ``(B) Use of cash benefits.--Cash benefits paid into + a Life Independence Account of an eligible beneficiary + shall be used to purchase nonmedical services and + supports that the beneficiary needs to maintain his or + her independence at home or in another residential + setting of their choice in the community, including (but + not limited to) home modifications, assistive + technology, accessible transportation, homemaker + services, respite care, personal assistance services, + home care aides, and nursing support. Nothing in the + preceding sentence shall prevent an eligible beneficiary + from using cash benefits paid into a Life Independence + Account for obtaining assistance with decision making + concerning medical care, including the right to accept + or refuse medical or surgical treatment and the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 838]] + + right to formulate advance directives or other written + instructions recognized under State law, such as a + living will or durable power of attorney for health + care, in the case that an injury or illness causes the + individual to be unable to make health care decisions. + ``(C) <> Electronic management + of funds.--The Secretary shall establish procedures + for-- + ``(i) crediting an account established on + behalf of a beneficiary with the beneficiary's + cash daily benefit; + ``(ii) allowing the beneficiary to access such + account through debit cards; and + ``(iii) accounting for withdrawals by the + beneficiary from such account. + ``(D) Primary payor rules for beneficiaries who are + enrolled in medicaid.--In the case of an eligible + beneficiary who is enrolled in Medicaid, the following + payment rules shall apply: + ``(i) Institutionalized beneficiary.--If the + beneficiary is a patient in a hospital, nursing + facility, intermediate care facility for the + mentally retarded, or an institution for mental + diseases, the beneficiary shall retain an amount + equal to 5 percent of the beneficiary's daily or + weekly cash benefit (as applicable) (which shall + be in addition to the amount of the beneficiary's + personal needs allowance provided under Medicaid), + and the remainder of such benefit shall be applied + toward the facility's cost of providing the + beneficiary's care, and Medicaid shall provide + secondary coverage for such care. + ``(ii) Beneficiaries receiving home and + community-based services.-- + ``(I) 50 percent of benefit retained + by beneficiary.--Subject to subclause + (II), if a beneficiary is receiving + medical assistance under Medicaid for + home and community based services, the + beneficiary shall retain an amount equal + to 50 percent of the beneficiary's daily + or weekly cash benefit (as applicable), + and the remainder of the daily or weekly + cash benefit shall be applied toward the + cost to the State of providing such + assistance (and shall not be used to + claim Federal matching funds under + Medicaid), and Medicaid shall provide + secondary coverage for the remainder of + any costs incurred in providing such + assistance. + ``(II) Requirement for state + offset.--A State shall be paid the + remainder of a beneficiary's daily or + weekly cash benefit under subclause (I) + only if the State home and community- + based waiver under section 1115 of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1315) or + subsection (c) or (d) of section 1915 of + such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396n), or the State + plan amendment under subsection (i) of + such section does not include a waiver + of the requirements of section + 1902(a)(1) of the Social Security Act + (relating to statewideness) or of + section 1902(a)(10)(B) of such Act + (relating to comparability) and the + State offers at a minimum + +[[Page 124 STAT. 839]] + + case management services, personal care + services, habilitation services, and + respite care under such a waiver or + State plan amendment. + ``(III) Definition of home and + community-based services.--In this + clause, the term `home and community- + based services' means any services which + may be offered under a home and + community-based waiver authorized for a + State under section 1115 of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1315) or + subsection (c) or (d) of section 1915 of + such Act (42 U.S.C. 1396n) or under a + State plan amendment under subsection + (i) of such section. + ``(iii) Beneficiaries enrolled in programs of + all-inclusive care for the elderly (pace).-- + ``(I) In general.--Subject to + subclause (II), if a beneficiary is + receiving medical assistance under + Medicaid for PACE program services under + section 1934 of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1396u-4), the beneficiary + shall retain an amount equal to 50 + percent of the beneficiary's daily or + weekly cash benefit (as applicable), and + the remainder of the daily or weekly + cash benefit shall be applied toward the + cost to the State of providing such + assistance (and shall not be used to + claim Federal matching funds under + Medicaid), and Medicaid shall provide + secondary coverage for the remainder of + any costs incurred in providing such + assistance. + ``(II) Institutionalized recipients + of pace program services.--If a + beneficiary receiving assistance under + Medicaid for PACE program services is a + patient in a hospital, nursing facility, + intermediate care facility for the + mentally retarded, or an institution for + mental diseases, the beneficiary shall + be treated as in institutionalized + beneficiary under clause (i). + ``(2) Authorized representatives.-- + ``(A) In general.--The + Secretary <> shall establish + procedures to allow access to a beneficiary's cash + benefits by an authorized representative of the eligible + beneficiary on whose behalf such benefits are paid. + ``(B) Quality assurance and protection against fraud + and abuse.--The procedures established under + subparagraph (A) shall ensure that authorized + representatives of eligible beneficiaries comply with + standards of conduct established by the Secretary, + including standards requiring that such representatives + provide quality services on behalf of such + beneficiaries, do not have conflicts of interest, and do + not misuse benefits paid on behalf of such beneficiaries + or otherwise engage in fraud or abuse. + ``(3) Commencement of benefits.--Benefits shall be paid to, + or on behalf of, an eligible beneficiary beginning with the + first month in which an application for such benefits is + approved. + ``(4) Rollover option for lump-sum payment.--An eligible + beneficiary may elect to-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 840]] + + ``(A) defer payment of their daily or weekly benefit + and to rollover any such deferred benefits from month- + to-month, but not from year-to-year; and + ``(B) receive a lump-sum payment of such deferred + benefits in an amount that may not exceed the lesser + of-- + ``(i) the total amount of the accrued deferred + benefits; or + ``(ii) the applicable annual benefit. + ``(5) Period for determination of annual benefits.-- + ``(A) In general.--The applicable period for + determining with respect to an eligible beneficiary the + applicable annual benefit and the amount of any accrued + deferred benefits is the 12-month period that commences + with the first month in which the beneficiary began to + receive such benefits, and each 12-month period + thereafter. + ``(B) Inclusion of increased benefits.--The + Secretary shall establish procedures under which cash + benefits paid to an eligible beneficiary that increase + or decrease as a result of a change in the functional + status of the beneficiary before the end of a 12-month + benefit period shall be included in the determination of + the applicable annual benefit paid to the eligible + beneficiary. + ``(C) Recoupment of unpaid, accrued benefits.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary, in + coordination with the Secretary of the Treasury, + shall recoup any accrued benefits in the event + of-- + ``(I) the death of a beneficiary; or + ``(II) the failure of a beneficiary + to elect under paragraph (4)(B) to + receive such benefits as a lump-sum + payment before the end of the 12-month + period in which such benefits accrued. + ``(ii) Payment into class independence fund.-- + Any benefits recouped in accordance with clause + (i) shall be paid into the CLASS Independence Fund + and used in accordance with section 3206. + ``(6) Requirement to recertify eligibility for receipt of + benefits.--An eligible beneficiary shall periodically, as + determined by the Secretary-- + ``(A) recertify by submission of medical evidence + the beneficiary's continued eligibility for receipt of + benefits; and + ``(B) submit records of expenditures attributable to + the aggregate cash benefit received by the beneficiary + during the preceding year. + ``(7) Supplement, not supplant other health care benefits.-- + Subject to the Medicaid payment rules under paragraph (1)(D), + benefits received by an eligible beneficiary shall supplement, + but not supplant, other health care benefits for which the + beneficiary is eligible under Medicaid or any other Federally + funded program that provides health care benefits or assistance. + + ``(d) <> Advocacy Services.--An agreement entered +into under subsection (a)(2)(A)(ii) shall require the Protection and +Advocacy System for the State to-- + ``(1) assign, as needed, an advocacy counselor to each + eligible beneficiary that is covered by such agreement and who + shall provide an eligible beneficiary with-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 841]] + + ``(A) information regarding how to access the + appeals process established for the program; + ``(B) assistance with respect to the annual + recertification and notification required under + subsection (c)(6); and + ``(C) <> such other assistance + with obtaining services as the Secretary, by regulation, + shall require; and + ``(2) ensure that the System and such counselors comply with + the requirements of subsection (h). + + ``(e) <> Advice and Assistance Counseling.--An +agreement entered into under subsection (a)(2)(A)(iii) shall require the +entity to assign, as requested by an eligible beneficiary that is +covered by such agreement, an advice and assistance counselor who shall +provide an eligible beneficiary with information regarding-- + ``(1) accessing and coordinating long-term services and + supports in the most integrated setting; + ``(2) possible eligibility for other benefits and services; + ``(3) development of a service and support plan; + ``(4) information about programs established under the + Assistive Technology Act of 1998 and the services offered under + such programs; + ``(5) available assistance with decision making concerning + medical care, including the right to accept or refuse medical or + surgical treatment and the right to formulate advance directives + or other written instructions recognized under State law, such + as a living will or durable power of attorney for health care, + in the case that an injury or illness causes the individual to + be unable to make health care decisions; and + ``(6) such other services as the Secretary, by regulation, + may require. + + ``(f) No Effect on Eligibility for Other Benefits.--Benefits paid to +an eligible beneficiary under the CLASS program shall be disregarded for +purposes of determining or continuing the beneficiary's eligibility for +receipt of benefits under any other Federal, State, or locally funded +assistance program, including benefits paid under titles II, XVI, XVIII, +XIX, or XXI of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 401 et seq., 1381 et +seq., 1395 et seq., 1396 et seq., 1397aa et seq.), under the laws +administered by the Secretary of Veterans Affairs, under low-income +housing assistance programs, or under the supplemental nutrition +assistance program established under the Food and Nutrition Act of 2008 +(7 U.S.C. 2011 et seq.). + ``(g) Rule of Construction.--Nothing in this title shall be +construed as prohibiting benefits paid under the CLASS Independence +Benefit Plan from being used to compensate a family caregiver for +providing community living assistance services and supports to an +eligible beneficiary. + ``(h) <> Protection Against Conflict of +Interests.--The Secretary shall establish procedures to ensure that the +Eligibility Assessment System, the Protection and Advocacy System for a +State, advocacy counselors for eligible beneficiaries, and any other +entities that provide services to active enrollees and eligible +beneficiaries under the CLASS program comply with the following: + ``(1) If the entity provides counseling or planning + services, such services are provided in a manner that fosters + the best interests of the active enrollee or beneficiary. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 842]] + + ``(2) The entity has established operating procedures that + are designed to avoid or minimize conflicts of interest between + the entity and an active enrollee or beneficiary. + ``(3) The entity provides information about all services and + options available to the active enrollee or beneficiary, to the + best of its knowledge, including services available through + other entities or providers. + ``(4) The entity assists the active enrollee or beneficiary + to access desired services, regardless of the provider. + ``(5) The entity reports the number of active enrollees and + beneficiaries provided with assistance by age, disability, and + whether such enrollees and beneficiaries received services from + the entity or another entity. + ``(6) If the entity provides counseling or planning + services, the entity ensures that an active enrollee or + beneficiary is informed of any financial interest that the + entity has in a service provider. + ``(7) The entity provides an active enrollee or beneficiary + with a list of available service providers that can meet the + needs of the active enrollee or beneficiary. + +``SEC. 3206. <> CLASS INDEPENDENCE FUND. + + ``(a) Establishment of CLASS Independence Fund.--There is +established in the Treasury of the United States a trust fund to be +known as the `CLASS Independence Fund'. The Secretary of the Treasury +shall serve as Managing Trustee of such Fund. The Fund shall consist of +all amounts derived from payments into the Fund under sections 3204(f) +and 3205(c)(5)(C)(ii), and remaining after investment of such amounts +under subsection (b), including additional amounts derived as income +from such investments. The amounts held in the Fund are appropriated and +shall remain available without fiscal year limitation-- + ``(1) to be held for investment on behalf of individuals + enrolled in the CLASS program; + ``(2) to pay the administrative expenses related to the Fund + and to investment under subsection (b); and + ``(3) to pay cash benefits to eligible beneficiaries under + the CLASS Independence Benefit Plan. + + ``(b) Investment of Fund Balance.--The Secretary of the Treasury +shall invest and manage the CLASS Independence Fund in the same manner, +and to the same extent, as the Federal Supplementary Medical Insurance +Trust Fund may be invested and managed under subsections (c), (d), and +(e) of section 1841(d) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395t). + ``(c) Board of Trustees.-- + ``(1) <> In general.--With respect to + the CLASS Independence Fund, there is hereby created a body to + be known as the Board of Trustees of the CLASS Independence Fund + (hereinafter in this section referred to as the `Board of + Trustees') composed of the Secretary of the Treasury, the + Secretary of Labor, and the Secretary of Health and Human + Services, all ex officio, and of two members of the public (both + of whom may not be from the same political party), who shall be + nominated by the President for a term of 4 years and subject to + confirmation by the Senate. A member of the Board of Trustees + serving as a member of the public and nominated and confirmed to + fill a vacancy occurring during a term shall + +[[Page 124 STAT. 843]] + + be nominated and confirmed only for the remainder of such term. + An individual nominated and confirmed as a member of the public + may serve in such position after the expiration of such member's + term until the earlier of the time at which the member's + successor takes office or the time at which a report of the + Board is first issued under paragraph (2) after the expiration + of the member's term. The Secretary of the Treasury shall be the + Managing Trustee of the Board of Trustees. The Board of Trustees + shall meet not less frequently than once each calendar year. A + person serving on the Board of Trustees shall not be considered + to be a fiduciary and shall not be personally liable for actions + taken in such capacity with respect to the Trust Fund. + ``(2) Duties.-- + ``(A) In general.--It shall be the duty of the Board + of Trustees to do the following: + ``(i) Hold the CLASS Independence Fund. + ``(ii) <> Report to + the Congress not later than the first day of April + of each year on the operation and status of the + CLASS Independence Fund during the preceding + fiscal year and on its expected operation and + status during the current fiscal year and the next + 2 fiscal years. + ``(iii) <> Report immediately + to the Congress whenever the Board is of the + opinion that the amount of the CLASS Independence + Fund is not actuarially sound in regards to the + projection under section 3203(b)(1)(B)(i). + ``(iv) Review the general policies followed in + managing the CLASS Independence Fund, and + recommend changes in such policies, including + necessary changes in the provisions of law which + govern the way in which the CLASS Independence + Fund is to be managed. + ``(B) Report.--The report provided for in + subparagraph (A)(ii) shall-- + ``(i) include-- + ``(I) a statement of the assets of, + and the disbursements made from, the + CLASS Independence Fund during the + preceding fiscal year; + ``(II) an estimate of the expected + income to, and disbursements to be made + from, the CLASS Independence Fund during + the current fiscal year and each of the + next 2 fiscal years; + ``(III) a statement of the actuarial + status of the CLASS Independence Fund + for the current fiscal year, each of the + next 2 fiscal years, and as projected + over the 75-year period beginning with + the current fiscal year; and + ``(IV) an actuarial opinion by the + Chief Actuary of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services certifying + that the techniques and methodologies + used are generally accepted within the + actuarial profession and that the + assumptions and cost estimates used are + reasonable; and + ``(ii) <> be printed as a + House document of the session of the Congress to + which the report is made. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 844]] + + ``(C) <> Recommendations.--If + the Board of Trustees determines that enrollment trends + and expected future benefit claims on the CLASS + Independence Fund are not actuarially sound in regards + to the projection under section 3203(b)(1)(B)(i) and are + unlikely to be resolved with reasonable premium + increases or through other means, the Board of Trustees + shall include in the report provided for in subparagraph + (A)(ii) recommendations for such legislative action as + the Board of Trustees determine to be appropriate, + including whether to adjust monthly premiums or impose a + temporary moratorium on new enrollments. + +``SEC. 3207. <> CLASS INDEPENDENCE ADVISORY + COUNCIL. + + ``(a) Establishment.--There is hereby created an Advisory Committee +to be known as the `CLASS Independence Advisory Council'. + ``(b) Membership.-- + ``(1) In general.--The CLASS Independence Advisory Council + shall be composed of not more than 15 individuals, not otherwise + in the employ of the United States-- + ``(A) <> who shall + be appointed by the President without regard to the + civil service laws and regulations; and + ``(B) a majority of whom shall be representatives of + individuals who participate or are likely to participate + in the CLASS program, and shall include representatives + of older and younger workers, individuals with + disabilities, family caregivers of individuals who + require services and supports to maintain their + independence at home or in another residential setting + of their choice in the community, individuals with + expertise in long-term care or disability insurance, + actuarial science, economics, and other relevant + disciplines, as determined by the Secretary. + ``(2) Terms.-- + ``(A) In general.--The members of the CLASS + Independence Advisory Council shall serve overlapping + terms of 3 years (unless appointed to fill a vacancy + occurring prior to the expiration of a term, in which + case the individual shall serve for the remainder of the + term). + ``(B) Limitation.--A member shall not be eligible to + serve for more than 2 consecutive terms. + ``(3) <> Chair.--The + President shall, from time to time, appoint one of the members + of the CLASS Independence Advisory Council to serve as the + Chair. + + ``(c) Duties.--The CLASS Independence Advisory Council shall advise +the Secretary on matters of general policy in the administration of the +CLASS program established under this title and in the formulation of +regulations under this title including with respect to-- + ``(1) the development of the CLASS Independence Benefit Plan + under section 3203; + ``(2) the determination of monthly premiums under such plan; + and + ``(3) the financial solvency of the program. + + ``(d) Application of FACA.--The Federal Advisory Committee Act (5 +U.S.C. App.), other than section 14 of that Act, shall apply to the +CLASS Independence Advisory Council. + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriations.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 845]] + + ``(1) In general.--There are authorized to be appropriated + to the CLASS Independence Advisory Council to carry out its + duties under this section, such sums as may be necessary for + fiscal year 2011 and for each fiscal year thereafter. + ``(2) Availability.--Any sums appropriated under the + authorization contained in this section shall remain available, + without fiscal year limitation, until expended. + +``SEC. 3208. <> SOLVENCY AND FISCAL + INDEPENDENCE; REGULATIONS; ANNUAL REPORT. + + ``(a) <> Solvency.--The Secretary shall +regularly consult with the Board of Trustees of the CLASS Independence +Fund and the CLASS Independence Advisory Council, for purposes of +ensuring that enrollees premiums are adequate to ensure the financial +solvency of the CLASS program, both with respect to fiscal years +occurring in the near-term and fiscal years occurring over 20- and 75- +year periods, taking into account the projections required for such +periods under subsections (a)(1)(A)(i) and (b)(1)(B)(i) of section 3202. + + ``(b) No Taxpayer Funds Used To Pay Benefits.--No taxpayer funds +shall be used for payment of benefits under a CLASS Independent Benefit +Plan. <> For purposes of this subsection, the term +`taxpayer funds' means any Federal funds from a source other than +premiums deposited by CLASS program participants in the CLASS +Independence Fund and any associated interest earnings. + + ``(c) Regulations.--The Secretary shall promulgate such regulations +as are necessary to carry out the CLASS program in accordance with this +title. Such regulations shall include provisions to prevent fraud and +abuse under the program. + ``(d) <> Annual Report.--Beginning January +1, 2014, the Secretary shall submit an annual report to Congress on the +CLASS program. Each report shall include the following: + ``(1) The total number of enrollees in the program. + ``(2) The total number of eligible beneficiaries during the + fiscal year. + ``(3) The total amount of cash benefits provided during the + fiscal year. + ``(4) A description of instances of fraud or abuse + identified during the fiscal year. + ``(5) Recommendations for such administrative or legislative + action as the Secretary determines is necessary to improve the + program, ensure the solvency of the program, or to prevent the + occurrence of fraud or abuse. + +``SEC. 3209. <> INSPECTOR GENERAL'S REPORT. + + ``The Inspector General of the Department of Health and Human +Services shall submit an annual report to the Secretary and Congress +relating to the overall progress of the CLASS program and of the +existence of waste, fraud, and abuse in the CLASS program. Each such +report shall include findings in the following areas: + ``(1) The eligibility determination process. + ``(2) The provision of cash benefits. + ``(3) Quality assurance and protection against waste, fraud, + and abuse. + ``(4) Recouping of unpaid and accrued benefits. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 846]] + +``SEC. 3210. <> TAX TREATMENT OF PROGRAM. + + ``The CLASS program shall be treated for purposes of the Internal +Revenue Code of 1986 in the same manner as a qualified long-term care +insurance contract for qualified long-term care services.''. + (2) Conforming amendments to medicaid.--Section 1902(a) of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)), as amended by + section 6505, is amended by inserting after paragraph (80) the + following: + ``(81) <> provide that the State will + comply with such regulations regarding the application of + primary and secondary payor rules with respect to individuals + who are eligible for medical assistance under this title and are + eligible beneficiaries under the CLASS program established under + title XXXII of the Public Health Service Act as the Secretary + shall establish; and''. + + (b) Assurance of Adequate Infrastructure for the Provision of +Personal Care Attendant Workers.--Section 1902(a) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1396a(a)), as amended by subsection (a)(2), is amended by +inserting after paragraph (81) the following: + ``(82) <> provide that, not later than 2 + years after the date of enactment of the Community Living + Assistance Services and Supports Act, each State shall-- + ``(A) assess the extent to which entities such as + providers of home care, home health services, home and + community service providers, public authorities created + to provide personal care services to individuals + eligible for medical assistance under the State plan, + and nonprofit organizations, are serving or have the + capacity to serve as fiscal agents for, employers of, + and providers of employment-related benefits for, + personal care attendant workers who provide personal + care services to individuals receiving benefits under + the CLASS program established under title XXXII of the + Public Health Service Act, including in rural and + underserved areas; + ``(B) <> designate or create + such entities to serve as fiscal agents for, employers + of, and providers of employment-related benefits for, + such workers to ensure an adequate supply of the workers + for individuals receiving benefits under the CLASS + program, including in rural and underserved areas; and + ``(C) ensure that the designation or creation of + such entities will not negatively alter or impede + existing programs, models, methods, or administration of + service delivery that provide for consumer controlled or + self-directed home and community services and further + ensure that such entities will not impede the ability of + individuals to direct and control their home and + community services, including the ability to select, + manage, dismiss, co-employ, or employ such workers or + inhibit such individuals from relying on family members + for the provision of personal care services.''. + + (c) <> Personal Care Attendants Workforce +Advisory Panel.-- + (1) <> Establishment.--Not later than 90 + days after the date of enactment of this Act, the Secretary of + Health and Human Services shall establish a Personal Care + Attendants Workforce + +[[Page 124 STAT. 847]] + + Advisory Panel for the purpose of examining and advising the + Secretary and Congress on workforce issues related to personal + care attendant workers, including with respect to the adequacy + of the number of such workers, the salaries, wages, and benefits + of such workers, and access to the services provided by such + workers. + (2) Membership.--In appointing members to the Personal Care + Attendants Workforce Advisory Panel, the Secretary shall ensure + that such members include the following: + (A) Individuals with disabilities of all ages. + (B) Senior individuals. + (C) Representatives of individuals with + disabilities. + (D) Representatives of senior individuals. + (E) Representatives of workforce and labor + organizations. + (F) Representatives of home and community-based + service providers. + (G) Representatives of assisted living providers. + + (d) Inclusion of Information on Supplemental Coverage in the +National Clearinghouse for Long-term Care Information; Extension of +Funding.--Section 6021(d) of the Deficit Reduction Act of 2005 (42 +U.S.C. 1396p note) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (2)(A)-- + (A) in clause (ii), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (B) in clause (iii), by striking the period at the + end and inserting ``; and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(iv) include information regarding the CLASS + program established under title XXXII of the + Public Health Service Act and coverage available + for purchase through a Exchange established under + section 1311 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act that is supplemental coverage + to the benefits provided under a CLASS + Independence Benefit Plan under that program, and + information regarding how benefits provided under + a CLASS Independence Benefit Plan differ from + disability insurance benefits.''; and + (2) in paragraph (3), by striking ``2010'' and inserting + ``2015''. + + (e) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by subsections (a), (b), and (d) take effect on January 1, 2011. + + (f) <> Rule of Construction.--Nothing in +this title or the amendments made by this title are intended to replace +or displace public or private disability insurance benefits, including +such benefits that are for income replacement. + + TITLE IX--REVENUE PROVISIONS + + Subtitle A--Revenue Offset Provisions + +SEC. 9001. EXCISE TAX ON HIGH COST EMPLOYER-SPONSORED HEALTH COVERAGE. + + (a) In General.--Chapter 43 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as +amended by section 1513, is amended by adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 848]] + +``SEC. 4980I. <> EXCISE TAX ON HIGH COST EMPLOYER- + SPONSORED HEALTH COVERAGE. + + ``(a) Imposition of Tax.--If-- + ``(1) an employee is covered under any applicable employer- + sponsored coverage of an employer at any time during a taxable + period, and + ``(2) there is any excess benefit with respect to the + coverage, + +there is hereby imposed a tax equal to 40 percent of the excess benefit. + ``(b) Excess Benefit.--For purposes of this section-- + ``(1) <> In general.--The term `excess + benefit' means, with respect to any applicable employer- + sponsored coverage made available by an employer to an employee + during any taxable period, the sum of the excess amounts + determined under paragraph (2) for months during the taxable + period. + ``(2) Monthly excess amount.--The excess amount determined + under this paragraph for any month is the excess (if any) of-- + ``(A) the aggregate cost of the applicable employer- + sponsored coverage of the employee for the month, over + ``(B) an amount equal to \1/12\ of the annual + limitation under paragraph (3) for the calendar year in + which the month occurs. + ``(3) Annual limitation.--For purposes of this subsection-- + ``(A) In general.--The annual limitation under this + paragraph for any calendar year is the dollar limit + determined under subparagraph (C) for the calendar year. + ``(B) Applicable annual limitation.--The annual + limitation which applies for any month shall be + determined on the basis of the type of coverage (as + determined under subsection (f)(1)) provided to the + employee by the employer as of the beginning of the + month. + ``(C) Applicable dollar limit.--Except as provided + in subparagraph (D)-- + ``(i) 2013.--In the case of 2013, the dollar + limit under this subparagraph is-- + ``(I) in the case of an employee + with self-only coverage, $8,500, and + ``(II) in the case of an employee + with coverage other than self-only + coverage, $23,000. + ``(ii) Exception for certain individuals.--In + the case of an individual who is a qualified + retiree or who participates in a plan sponsored by + an employer the majority of whose employees are + engaged in a high-risk profession or employed to + repair or install electrical or telecommunications + lines-- + ``(I) the dollar amount in clause + (i)(I) (determined after the application + of subparagraph (D)) shall be increased + by $1,350, and + ``(II) the dollar amount in clause + (i)(II) (determined after the + application of subparagraph (D)) shall + be increased by $3,000. + ``(iii) Subsequent years.--In the case of any + calendar year after 2013, each of the dollar + amounts under clauses (i) and (ii) shall be + increased to the amount equal to such amount as in + effect for the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 849]] + + calendar year preceding such year, increased by an + amount equal to the product of-- + ``(I) such amount as so in effect, + multiplied by + ``(II) the cost-of-living adjustment + determined under section 1(f)(3) for + such year (determined by substituting + the calendar year that is 2 years before + such year for `1992' in subparagraph (B) + thereof), increased by 1 percentage + point. + If any amount determined under this clause is not + a multiple of $50, such amount shall be rounded to + the nearest multiple of $50. + ``(D) Transition rule for states with highest + coverage costs.-- + ``(i) In general.--If an employee is a + resident of a high cost State on the first day of + any month beginning in 2013, 2014, or 2015, the + annual limitation under this paragraph for such + month with respect to such employee shall be an + amount equal to the applicable percentage of the + annual limitation (determined without regard to + this subparagraph or subparagraph (C)(ii)). + ``(ii) Applicable percentage.--The applicable + percentage is 120 percent for 2013, 110 percent + for 2014, and 105 percent for 2015. + ``(iii) <> High cost + state.--The term `high cost State' means each of + the 17 States which the Secretary of Health and + Human Services, in consultation with the + Secretary, estimates had the highest average cost + during 2012 for employer-sponsored coverage under + health plans. The Secretary's estimate shall be + made on the basis of aggregate premiums paid in + the State for such health plans, determined using + the most recent data available as of August 31, + 2012. + + ``(c) Liability To Pay Tax.-- + ``(1) In general.--Each coverage provider shall pay the tax + imposed by subsection (a) on its applicable share of the excess + benefit with respect to an employee for any taxable period. + ``(2) <> Coverage provider.--For + purposes of this subsection, the term `coverage provider' means + each of the following: + ``(A) Health insurance coverage.--If the applicable + employer-sponsored coverage consists of coverage under a + group health plan which provides health insurance + coverage, the health insurance issuer. + ``(B) HSA and msa contributions.--If the applicable + employer-sponsored coverage consists of coverage under + an arrangement under which the employer makes + contributions described in subsection (b) or (d) of + section 106, the employer. + ``(C) Other coverage.--In the case of any other + applicable employer-sponsored coverage, the person that + administers the plan benefits. + ``(3) Applicable share.--For purposes of this subsection, a + coverage provider's applicable share of an excess benefit for + any taxable period is the amount which bears the same ratio to + the amount of such excess benefit as-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 850]] + + ``(A) the cost of the applicable employer-sponsored + coverage provided by the provider to the employee during + such period, bears to + ``(B) the aggregate cost of all applicable employer- + sponsored coverage provided to the employee by all + coverage providers during such period. + ``(4) Responsibility to calculate tax and applicable + shares.-- + ``(A) In general.--Each employer shall-- + ``(i) calculate for each taxable period the + amount of the excess benefit subject to the tax + imposed by subsection (a) and the applicable share + of such excess benefit for each coverage provider, + and + ``(ii) <> notify, at + such time and in such manner as the Secretary may + prescribe, the Secretary and each coverage + provider of the amount so determined for the + provider. + ``(B) Special rule for multiemployer plans.--In the + case of applicable employer-sponsored coverage made + available to employees through a multiemployer plan (as + defined in section 414(f)), the plan sponsor shall make + the calculations, and provide the notice, required under + subparagraph (A). + + ``(d) Applicable Employer-Sponsored Coverage; Cost.--For purposes of +this section-- + ``(1) Applicable employer-sponsored coverage.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--The term + `applicable employer-sponsored coverage' means, with + respect to any employee, coverage under any group health + plan made available to the employee by an employer which + is excludable from the employee's gross income under + section 106, or would be so excludable if it were + employer-provided coverage (within the meaning of such + section 106). + ``(B) Exceptions.--The term `applicable employer- + sponsored coverage' shall not include-- + ``(i) any coverage (whether through insurance + or otherwise) described in section 9832(c)(1)(A) + or for long-term care, or + ``(ii) any coverage described in section + 9832(c)(3) the payment for which is not excludable + from gross income and for which a deduction under + section 162(l) is not allowable. + ``(C) Coverage includes employee paid portion.-- + Coverage shall be treated as applicable employer- + sponsored coverage without regard to whether the + employer or employee pays for the coverage. + ``(D) Self-employed individual.--In the case of an + individual who is an employee within the meaning of + section 401(c)(1), coverage under any group health plan + providing health insurance coverage shall be treated as + applicable employer-sponsored coverage if a deduction is + allowable under section 162(l) with respect to all or + any portion of the cost of the coverage. + ``(E) Governmental plans included.--Applicable + employer-sponsored coverage shall include coverage under + any group health plan established and maintained + primarily for its civilian employees by the Government + of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 851]] + + the United States, by the government of any State or + political subdivision thereof, or by any agency or + instrumentality of any such government. + ``(2) Determination of cost.-- + ``(A) In general.--The cost of applicable employer- + sponsored coverage shall be determined under rules + similar to the rules of section 4980B(f)(4), except that + in determining such cost, any portion of the cost of + such coverage which is attributable to the tax imposed + under this section shall not be taken into account and + the amount of such cost shall be calculated separately + for self-only coverage and other coverage. In the case + of applicable employer-sponsored coverage which provides + coverage to retired employees, the plan may elect to + treat a retired employee who has not attained the age of + 65 and a retired employee who has attained the age of 65 + as similarly situated beneficiaries. + ``(B) Health fsas.--In the case of applicable + employer-sponsored coverage consisting of coverage under + a flexible spending arrangement (as defined in section + 106(c)(2)), the cost of the coverage shall be equal to + the sum of-- + ``(i) the amount of employer contributions + under any salary reduction election under the + arrangement, plus + ``(ii) the amount determined under + subparagraph (A) with respect to any reimbursement + under the arrangement in excess of the + contributions described in clause (i). + ``(C) Archer msas and hsas.--In the case of + applicable employer-sponsored coverage consisting of + coverage under an arrangement under which the employer + makes contributions described in subsection (b) or (d) + of section 106, the cost of the coverage shall be equal + to the amount of employer contributions under the + arrangement. + ``(D) Allocation on a monthly basis.--If cost is + determined on other than a monthly basis, the cost shall + be allocated to months in a taxable period on such basis + as the Secretary may prescribe. + + ``(e) Penalty for Failure To Properly Calculate Excess Benefit.-- + ``(1) In general.--If, for any taxable period, the tax + imposed by subsection (a) exceeds the tax determined under such + subsection with respect to the total excess benefit calculated + by the employer or plan sponsor under subsection (c)(4)-- + ``(A) each coverage provider shall pay the tax on + its applicable share (determined in the same manner as + under subsection (c)(4)) of the excess, but no penalty + shall be imposed on the provider with respect to such + amount, and + ``(B) the employer or plan sponsor shall, in + addition to any tax imposed by subsection (a), pay a + penalty in an amount equal to such excess, plus interest + at the underpayment rate determined under section 6621 + for the period beginning on the due date for the payment + of tax imposed by subsection (a) to which the excess + relates and ending on the date of payment of the + penalty. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 852]] + + ``(2) Limitations on penalty.-- + ``(A) Penalty not to apply where failure not + discovered exercising reasonable diligence.--No penalty + shall be imposed by paragraph (1)(B) on any failure to + properly calculate the excess benefit during any period + for which it is established to the satisfaction of the + Secretary that the employer or plan sponsor neither + knew, nor exercising reasonable diligence would have + known, that such failure existed. + ``(B) Penalty not to apply to failures corrected + within 30 days.--No penalty shall be imposed by + paragraph (1)(B) on any such failure if-- + ``(i) such failure was due to reasonable cause + and not to willful neglect, and + ``(ii) such failure is corrected during the + 30-day period beginning on the 1st date that the + employer knew, or exercising reasonable diligence + would have known, that such failure existed. + ``(C) Waiver by secretary.--In the case of any such + failure which is due to reasonable cause and not to + willful neglect, the Secretary may waive part or all of + the penalty imposed by paragraph (1), to the extent that + the payment of such penalty would be excessive or + otherwise inequitable relative to the failure involved. + + ``(f) Other Definitions and Special Rules.--For purposes of this +section-- + ``(1) Coverage determinations.-- + ``(A) In general.--Except as provided in + subparagraph (B), an employee shall be treated as having + self-only coverage with respect to any applicable + employer-sponsored coverage of an employer. + ``(B) Minimum essential coverage.--An employee shall + be treated as having coverage other than self-only + coverage only if the employee is enrolled in coverage + other than self-only coverage in a group health plan + which provides minimum essential coverage (as defined in + section 5000A(f)) to the employee and at least one other + beneficiary, and the benefits provided under such + minimum essential coverage do not vary based on whether + any individual covered under such coverage is the + employee or another beneficiary. + ``(2) Qualified retiree.--The term `qualified retiree' means + any individual who-- + ``(A) is receiving coverage by reason of being a + retiree, + ``(B) has attained age 55, and + ``(C) is not entitled to benefits or eligible for + enrollment under the Medicare program under title XVIII + of the Social Security Act. + ``(3) Employees engaged in high-risk profession.--The term + `employees engaged in a high-risk profession' means law + enforcement officers (as such term is defined in section 1204 of + the Omnibus Crime Control and Safe Streets Act of 1968), + employees in fire protection activities (as such term is defined + in section 3(y) of the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938), + individuals who provide out-of-hospital emergency medical care + (including emergency medical technicians, paramedics, and first- + responders), and individuals engaged in the construction, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 853]] + + mining, agriculture (not including food processing), forestry, + and fishing industries. Such term includes an employee who is + retired from a high-risk profession described in the preceding + sentence, if such employee satisfied the requirements of such + sentence for a period of not less than 20 years during the + employee's employment. + ``(4) Group health plan.--The term `group health plan' has + the meaning given such term by section 5000(b)(1). + ``(5) Health insurance coverage; health insurance issuer.-- + ``(A) Health insurance coverage.--The term `health + insurance coverage' has the meaning given such term by + section 9832(b)(1) (applied without regard to + subparagraph (B) thereof, except as provided by the + Secretary in regulations). + ``(B) Health insurance issuer.--The term `health + insurance issuer' has the meaning given such term by + section 9832(b)(2). + ``(6) Person that administers the plan benefits.--The term + `person that administers the plan benefits' shall include the + plan sponsor if the plan sponsor administers benefits under the + plan. + ``(7) Plan sponsor.--The term `plan sponsor' has the meaning + given such term in section 3(16)(B) of the Employee Retirement + Income Security Act of 1974. + ``(8) Taxable period.--The term `taxable period' means the + calendar year or such shorter period as the Secretary may + prescribe. The Secretary may have different taxable periods for + employers of varying sizes. + ``(9) Aggregation rules.--All employers treated as a single + employer under subsection (b), (c), (m), or (o) of section 414 + shall be treated as a single employer. + ``(10) Denial of deduction.--For denial of a deduction for + the tax imposed by this section, see section 275(a)(6). + + ``(g) Regulations.--The Secretary shall prescribe such regulations +as may be necessary to carry out this section.''. + (b) Clerical Amendment.--The table of sections for chapter 43 of +such Code, as amended by section 1513, is amended by adding at the end +the following new item: + +``Sec. 4980I. Excise tax on high cost employer-sponsored health + coverage.''. + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after +December 31, 2012. + +SEC. 9002. INCLUSION OF COST OF EMPLOYER-SPONSORED HEALTH COVERAGE ON W- + 2. + + (a) In General.--Section 6051(a) of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986 <> (relating to receipts for employees) is +amended by striking ``and'' at the end of paragraph (12), by striking +the period at the end of paragraph (13) and inserting ``, and'', and by +adding after paragraph (13) the following new paragraph: + ``(14) the aggregate cost (determined under rules similar to + the rules of section 4980B(f)(4)) of applicable employer- + sponsored coverage (as defined in section 4980I(d)(1)), except + that this paragraph shall not apply to-- + ``(A) coverage to which paragraphs (11) and (12) + apply, or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 854]] + + ``(B) the amount of any salary reduction + contributions to a flexible spending arrangement (within + the meaning of section 125).''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after +December 31, 2010. + +SEC. 9003. DISTRIBUTIONS FOR MEDICINE QUALIFIED ONLY IF FOR PRESCRIBED + DRUG OR INSULIN. + + (a) HSAs.--Subparagraph (A) of section 223(d)(2) of the Internal +Revenue Code of 1986 <> is amended by adding at the +end the following: ``Such term shall include an amount paid for medicine +or a drug only if such medicine or drug is a prescribed drug (determined +without regard to whether such drug is available without a prescription) +or is insulin.''. + + (b) Archer MSAs.--Subparagraph (A) of section 220(d)(2) of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986 <> is amended by +adding at the end the following: ``Such term shall include an amount +paid for medicine or a drug only if such medicine or drug is a +prescribed drug (determined without regard to whether such drug is +available without a prescription) or is insulin.''. + + (c) Health Flexible Spending Arrangements and Health Reimbursement +Arrangements.--Section 106 of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986 <> is amended by adding at the end the +following new subsection: + + ``(f) Reimbursements for Medicine Restricted to Prescribed Drugs and +Insulin.--For purposes of this section and section 105, reimbursement +for expenses incurred for a medicine or a drug shall be treated as a +reimbursement for medical expenses only if such medicine or drug is a +prescribed drug (determined without regard to whether such drug is +available without a prescription) or is insulin.''. + (d) Effective Dates.-- + (1) <> Distributions from savings + accounts.--The amendments made by subsections (a) and (b) shall + apply to amounts paid with respect to taxable years beginning + after December 31, 2010. + (2) <> Reimbursements.--The + amendment made by subsection (c) shall apply to expenses + incurred with respect to taxable years beginning after December + 31, 2010. + +SEC. 9004. INCREASE IN ADDITIONAL TAX ON DISTRIBUTIONS FROM HSAS AND + ARCHER MSAS NOT USED FOR QUALIFIED MEDICAL EXPENSES. + + (a) HSAs.--Section 223(f)(4)(A) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 +is amended by striking ``10 percent'' and inserting ``20 percent''. + (b) Archer MSAs.--Section 220(f)(4)(A) of the Internal Revenue Code +of 1986 is amended by striking ``15 percent'' and inserting ``20 +percent''. + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments made +by this section shall apply to distributions made after December 31, +2010. + +SEC. 9005. LIMITATION ON HEALTH FLEXIBLE SPENDING ARRANGEMENTS UNDER + CAFETERIA PLANS. + + (a) In General.--Section 125 of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986 <> is amended-- + (1) by redesignating subsections (i) and (j) as subsections + (j) and (k), respectively, and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 855]] + + (2) by inserting after subsection (h) the following new + subsection: + + ``(i) Limitation on Health Flexible Spending Arrangements.--For +purposes of this section, if a benefit is provided under a cafeteria +plan through employer contributions to a health flexible spending +arrangement, such benefit shall not be treated as a qualified benefit +unless the cafeteria plan provides that an employee may not elect for +any taxable year to have salary reduction contributions in excess of +$2,500 made to such arrangement.''. + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendments made +by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after December +31, 2010. + +SEC. 9006. EXPANSION OF INFORMATION REPORTING REQUIREMENTS. + + (a) In General.--Section 6041 of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986 <> is amended by adding at the end the +following new subsections: + + ``(h) Application to Corporations.--Notwithstanding any regulation +prescribed by the Secretary before the date of the enactment of this +subsection, for purposes of this section the term `person' includes any +corporation that is not an organization exempt from tax under section +501(a). + ``(i) Regulations.--The Secretary may prescribe such regulations and +other guidance as may be appropriate or necessary to carry out the +purposes of this section, including rules to prevent duplicative +reporting of transactions.''. + (b) Payments for Property and Other Gross Proceeds.--Subsection (a) +of section 6041 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is amended-- + (1) by inserting ``amounts in consideration for property,'' + after ``wages,'', + (2) by inserting ``gross proceeds,'' after ``emoluments, or + other'', and + (3) by inserting ``gross proceeds,'' after ``setting forth + the amount of such''. + + (c) Effective Date.--The amendments made by this section shall apply +to payments made after December 31, 2011. + +SEC. 9007. ADDITIONAL REQUIREMENTS FOR CHARITABLE HOSPITALS. + + (a) Requirements To Qualify as Section 501(c)(3) Charitable Hospital +Organization.--Section 501 of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986 <> (relating to exemption from tax on +corporations, certain trusts, etc.) is amended by redesignating +subsection (r) as subsection (s) and by inserting after subsection (q) +the following new subsection: + + ``(r) Additional Requirements for Certain Hospitals.-- + ``(1) <> In general.--A hospital + organization to which this subsection applies shall not be + treated as described in subsection (c)(3) unless the + organization-- + ``(A) meets the community health needs assessment + requirements described in paragraph (3), + ``(B) meets the financial assistance policy + requirements described in paragraph (4), + ``(C) meets the requirements on charges described in + paragraph (5), and + ``(D) meets the billing and collection requirement + described in paragraph (6). + ``(2) Hospital organizations to which subsection applies.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 856]] + + ``(A) In general.--This subsection shall apply to-- + ``(i) an organization which operates a + facility which is required by a State to be + licensed, registered, or similarly recognized as a + hospital, and + ``(ii) any other organization which the + Secretary determines has the provision of hospital + care as its principal function or purpose + constituting the basis for its exemption under + subsection (c)(3) (determined without regard to + this subsection). + ``(B) Organizations with more than 1 hospital + facility.--If a hospital organization operates more than + 1 hospital facility-- + ``(i) the organization shall meet the + requirements of this subsection separately with + respect to each such facility, and + ``(ii) the organization shall not be treated + as described in subsection (c)(3) with respect to + any such facility for which such requirements are + not separately met. + ``(3) Community health needs assessments.-- + ``(A) In general.--An organization meets the + requirements of this paragraph with respect to any + taxable year only if the organization-- + ``(i) has conducted a community health needs + assessment which meets the requirements of + subparagraph (B) in such taxable year or in either + of the 2 taxable years immediately preceding such + taxable year, and + ``(ii) has adopted an implementation strategy + to meet the community health needs identified + through such assessment. + ``(B) Community health needs assessment.--A + community health needs assessment meets the requirements + of this paragraph if such community health needs + assessment-- + ``(i) takes into account input from persons + who represent the broad interests of the community + served by the hospital facility, including those + with special knowledge of or expertise in public + health, and + ``(ii) <> is made + widely available to the public. + ``(4) Financial assistance policy.--An organization meets + the requirements of this paragraph if the organization + establishes the following policies: + ``(A) Financial assistance policy.--A written + financial assistance policy which includes-- + ``(i) eligibility criteria for financial + assistance, and whether such assistance includes + free or discounted care, + ``(ii) the basis for calculating amounts + charged to patients, + ``(iii) the method for applying for financial + assistance, + ``(iv) in the case of an organization which + does not have a separate billing and collections + policy, the actions the organization may take in + the event of non-payment, including collections + action and reporting to credit agencies, and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 857]] + + ``(v) measures to widely publicize the policy + within the community to be served by the + organization. + ``(B) Policy relating to emergency medical care.--A + written policy requiring the organization to provide, + without discrimination, care for emergency medical + conditions (within the meaning of section 1867 of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395dd)) to individuals + regardless of their eligibility under the financial + assistance policy described in subparagraph (A). + ``(5) Limitation on charges.--An organization meets the + requirements of this paragraph if the organization-- + ``(A) limits amounts charged for emergency or other + medically necessary care provided to individuals + eligible for assistance under the financial assistance + policy described in paragraph (4)(A) to not more than + the lowest amounts charged to individuals who have + insurance covering such care, and + ``(B) prohibits the use of gross charges. + ``(6) Billing and collection requirements.--An organization + meets the requirement of this paragraph only if the organization + does not engage in extraordinary collection actions before the + organization has made reasonable efforts to determine whether + the individual is eligible for assistance under the financial + assistance policy described in paragraph (4)(A). + ``(7) <> Regulatory + authority.--The Secretary shall issue such regulations and + guidance as may be necessary to carry out the provisions of this + subsection, including guidance relating to what constitutes + reasonable efforts to determine the eligibility of a patient + under a financial assistance policy for purposes of paragraph + (6).''. + + (b) Excise Tax for Failures To Meet Hospital Exemption +Requirements.-- + (1) In general.--Subchapter D of chapter 42 of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 (relating to failure by certain charitable + organizations to meet certain qualification requirements) is + amended by adding at the end the following new section: + +``SEC. 4959. <> TAXES ON FAILURES BY HOSPITAL + ORGANIZATIONS. + + ``If a hospital organization to which section 501(r) applies fails +to meet the requirement of section 501(r)(3) for any taxable year, there +is imposed on the organization a tax equal to $50,000.''. + (2) Conforming amendment.--The table of sections for + subchapter D of chapter 42 of such Code is amended by adding at + the end the following new item: + +``Sec. 4959. Taxes on failures by hospital organizations.''. + + (c) <> Mandatory Review of Tax Exemption +for Hospitals.--The Secretary <> of the Treasury or +the Secretary's delegate shall review at least once every 3 years the +community benefit activities of each hospital organization to which +section 501(r) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (as added by this +section) applies. + + (d) Additional Reporting Requirements.-- + (1) Community health needs assessments and audited financial + statements.--Section 6033(b) of the Internal Revenue Code of + 1986 <> (relating to certain organizations + described in section 501(c)(3)) is amended by striking ``and'' + at the end + +[[Page 124 STAT. 858]] + + of paragraph (14), by redesignating paragraph (15) as paragraph + (16), and by inserting after paragraph (14) the following new + paragraph: + ``(15) in the case of an organization to which the + requirements of section 501(r) apply for the taxable year-- + ``(A) a description of how the organization is + addressing the needs identified in each community health + needs assessment conducted under section 501(r)(3) and a + description of any such needs that are not being + addressed together with the reasons why such needs are + not being addressed, and + ``(B) the audited financial statements of such + organization (or, in the case of an organization the + financial statements of which are included in a + consolidated financial statement with other + organizations, such consolidated financial + statement).''. + (2) Taxes.--Section 6033(b)(10) of such Code is amended by + striking ``and'' at the end of subparagraph (B), by inserting + ``and'' at the end of subparagraph (C), and by adding at the end + the following new subparagraph: + ``(D) section 4959 (relating to taxes on failures by + hospital organizations),''. + + (e) <> Reports.-- + (1) Report on levels of charity care.--The Secretary of the + Treasury, in consultation with the Secretary of Health and Human + Services, shall submit to the Committees on Ways and Means, + Education and Labor, and Energy and Commerce of the House of + Representatives and to the Committees on Finance and Health, + Education, Labor, and Pensions of the Senate an annual report on + the following: + (A) Information with respect to private tax-exempt, + taxable, and government-owned hospitals regarding-- + (i) levels of charity care provided, + (ii) bad debt expenses, + (iii) unreimbursed costs for services provided + with respect to means-tested government programs, + and + (iv) unreimbursed costs for services provided + with respect to non-means tested government + programs. + (B) Information with respect to private tax-exempt + hospitals regarding costs incurred for community benefit + activities. + (2) Report on trends.-- + (A) Study.--The Secretary of the Treasury, in + consultation with the Secretary of Health and Human + Services, shall conduct a study on trends in the + information required to be reported under paragraph (1). + (B) Report.--Not later than 5 years after the date + of the enactment of this Act, the Secretary of the + Treasury, in consultation with the Secretary of Health + and Human Services, shall submit a report on the study + conducted under subparagraph (A) to the Committees on + Ways and Means, Education and Labor, and Energy and + Commerce of the House of Representatives and to the + Committees on Finance and Health, Education, Labor, and + Pensions of the Senate. + + (f) <> Effective Dates.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 859]] + + (1) In general.--Except as provided in paragraphs (2) and + (3), the amendments made by this section shall apply to taxable + years beginning after the date of the enactment of this Act. + (2) Community health needs assessment.--The requirements of + section 501(r)(3) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as added + by subsection (a), shall apply to taxable years beginning after + the date which is 2 years after the date of the enactment of + this Act. + (3) Excise tax.--The amendments made by subsection (b) shall + apply to failures occurring after the date of the enactment of + this Act. + +SEC. 9008. <> IMPOSITION OF ANNUAL FEE ON + BRANDED PRESCRIPTION PHARMACEUTICAL MANUFACTURERS AND + IMPORTERS. + + (a) <> Imposition of Fee.-- + (1) In general.--Each covered entity engaged in the business + of manufacturing or importing branded prescription drugs shall + pay to the Secretary of the Treasury not later than the annual + payment date of each calendar year beginning after 2009 a fee in + an amount determined under subsection (b). + (2) <> Annual payment date.--For + purposes of this section, the term ``annual payment date'' means + with respect to any calendar year the date determined by the + Secretary, but in no event later than September 30 of such + calendar year. + + (b) Determination of Fee Amount.-- + (1) In general.--With respect to each covered entity, the + fee under this section for any calendar year shall be equal to + an amount that bears the same ratio to $2,300,000,000 as-- + (A) the covered entity's branded prescription drug + sales taken into account during the preceding calendar + year, bear to + (B) the aggregate branded prescription drug sales of + all covered entities taken into account during such + preceding calendar year. + (2) Sales taken into account.--For purposes of paragraph + (1), the branded prescription drug sales taken into account + during any calendar year with respect to any covered entity + shall be determined in accordance with the following table: + + + With respect to a covered entity's + aggregate branded prescription drug The percentage of such sales + sales during the calendar year that taken into account is: + are: + + Not more than $5,000,000............. 0 percent + More than $5,000,000 but not more 10 percent + than $125,000,000. + More than $125,000,000 but not more 40 percent + than $225,000,000. + More than $225,000,000 but not more 75 percent + than $400,000,000. + More than $400,000,000............... 100 percent. + + + +[[Page 124 STAT. 860]] + + (3) Secretarial determination.--The Secretary of the + Treasury shall calculate the amount of each covered entity's fee + for any calendar year under paragraph (1). In calculating such + amount, the Secretary of the Treasury shall determine such + covered entity's branded prescription drug sales on the basis of + reports submitted under subsection (g) and through the use of + any other source of information available to the Secretary of + the Treasury. + + (c) Transfer of Fees to Medicare Part B Trust Fund.--There is hereby +appropriated to the Federal Supplementary Medical Insurance Trust Fund +established under section 1841 of the Social Security Act an amount +equal to the fees received by the Secretary of the Treasury under +subsection (a). + (d) Covered Entity.-- + (1) In general.--For purposes <> of this + section, the term ``covered entity'' means any manufacturer or + importer with gross receipts from branded prescription drug + sales. + (2) Controlled groups.-- + (A) In general.--For purposes of this subsection, + all persons treated as a single employer under + subsection (a) or (b) of section 52 of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 or subsection (m) or (o) of section + 414 of such Code shall be treated as a single covered + entity. + (B) <> Inclusion of foreign + corporations.--For purposes of subparagraph (A), in + applying subsections (a) and (b) of section 52 of such + Code to this section, section 1563 of such Code shall be + applied without regard to subsection (b)(2)(C) thereof. + + (e) <> Branded Prescription Drug Sales.--For +purposes of this section-- + (1) In general.--The term ``branded prescription drug + sales'' means sales of branded prescription drugs to any + specified government program or pursuant to coverage under any + such program. + (2) Branded prescription drugs.-- + (A) In general.--The term ``branded prescription + drug'' means-- + (i) any prescription drug the application for + which was submitted under section 505(b) of the + Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. + 355(b)), or + (ii) any biological product the license for + which was submitted under section 351(a) of the + Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 262(a)). + (B) Prescription drug.--For purposes of subparagraph + (A)(i), the term ``prescription drug'' means any drug + which is subject to section 503(b) of the Federal Food, + Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 353(b)). + (3) Exclusion of orphan drug sales.--The term ``branded + prescription drug sales'' shall not include sales of any drug or + biological product with respect to which a credit was allowed + for any taxable year under section 45C of the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986. The preceding sentence shall not apply with + respect to any such drug or biological product after the date on + which such drug or biological product is approved by the Food + and Drug Administration for marketing for any indication other + than the treatment of the rare disease or condition with respect + to which such credit was allowed. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 861]] + + (4) Specified government program.--The term ``specified + government program'' means-- + (A) the Medicare Part D program under part D of + title XVIII of the Social Security Act, + (B) the Medicare Part B program under part B of + title XVIII of the Social Security Act, + (C) the Medicaid program under title XIX of the + Social Security Act, + (D) any program under which branded prescription + drugs are procured by the Department of Veterans + Affairs, + (E) any program under which branded prescription + drugs are procured by the Department of Defense, or + (F) the TRICARE retail pharmacy program under + section 1074g of title 10, United States Code. + + (f) Tax Treatment of Fees.--The fees imposed by this section-- + (1) <> for purposes of subtitle F of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, shall be treated as excise + taxes with respect to which only civil actions for refund under + procedures of such subtitle shall apply, and + (2) for purposes of section 275 of such Code, shall be + considered to be a tax described in section 275(a)(6). + + (g) Reporting Requirement.--Not later than the date determined by +the Secretary of the Treasury following the end of any calendar year, +the Secretary of Health and Human Services, the Secretary of Veterans +Affairs, and the Secretary of Defense shall report to the Secretary of +the Treasury, in such manner as the Secretary of the Treasury +prescribes, the total branded prescription drug sales for each covered +entity with respect to each specified government program under such +Secretary's jurisdiction using the following methodology: + (1) Medicare part d program.--The Secretary of Health and + Human Services shall report, for each covered entity and for + each branded prescription drug of the covered entity covered by + the Medicare Part D program, the product of-- + (A) the per-unit ingredient cost, as reported to the + Secretary of Health and Human Services by prescription + drug plans and Medicare Advantage prescription drug + plans, minus any per-unit rebate, discount, or other + price concession provided by the covered entity, as + reported to the Secretary of Health and Human Services + by the prescription drug plans and Medicare Advantage + prescription drug plans, and + (B) the number of units of the branded prescription + drug paid for under the Medicare Part D program. + (2) Medicare part b program.--The Secretary of Health and + Human Services shall report, for each covered entity and for + each branded prescription drug of the covered entity covered by + the Medicare Part B program under section 1862(a) of the Social + Security Act, the product of-- + (A) the per-unit average sales price (as defined in + section 1847A(c) of the Social Security Act) or the per- + unit Part B payment rate for a separately paid branded + prescription drug without a reported average sales + price, and + (B) the number of units of the branded prescription + drug paid for under the Medicare Part B program. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 862]] + + The Centers <> for Medicare and Medicaid + Services shall establish a process for determining the units and + the allocated price for purposes of this section for those + branded prescription drugs that are not separately payable or + for which National Drug Codes are not reported. + (3) Medicaid program.--The Secretary of Health and Human + Services shall report, for each covered entity and for each + branded prescription drug of the covered entity covered under + the Medicaid program, the product of-- + (A) the per-unit ingredient cost paid to pharmacies + by States for the branded prescription drug dispensed to + Medicaid beneficiaries, minus any per-unit rebate paid + by the covered entity under section 1927 of the Social + Security Act and any State supplemental rebate, and + (B) the number of units of the branded prescription + drug paid for under the Medicaid program. + (4) Department of veterans affairs programs.--The Secretary + of Veterans Affairs shall report, for each covered entity and + for each branded prescription drug of the covered entity the + total amount paid for each such branded prescription drug + procured by the Department of Veterans Affairs for its + beneficiaries. + (5) Department of defense programs and tricare.--The + Secretary of Defense shall report, for each covered entity and + for each branded prescription drug of the covered entity, the + sum of-- + (A) the total amount paid for each such branded + prescription drug procured by the Department of Defense + for its beneficiaries, and + (B) for each such branded prescription drug + dispensed under the TRICARE retail pharmacy program, the + product of-- + (i) the per-unit ingredient cost, minus any + per-unit rebate paid by the covered entity, and + (ii) the number of units of the branded + prescription drug dispensed under such program. + + (h) Secretary.--For purposes of this section, the term ``Secretary'' +includes the Secretary's delegate. + (i) <> Guidance.--The Secretary of the Treasury +shall publish guidance necessary to carry out the purposes of this +section. + + (j) Application of Section.--This section shall apply to any branded +prescription drug sales after December 31, 2008. + (k) Conforming Amendment.--Section 1841(a) of the Social Security +Act <> is amended by inserting ``or section +9008(c) of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act of 2009'' +after ``this part''. + +SEC. 9009. <> IMPOSITION OF + ANNUAL FEE ON MEDICAL DEVICE MANUFACTURERS AND IMPORTERS. + + (a) <> Imposition of Fee.-- + (1) In general.--Each covered entity engaged in the business + of manufacturing or importing medical devices shall pay to the + Secretary not later than the annual payment date of each + calendar year beginning after 2009 a fee in an amount determined + under subsection (b). + (2) Annual payment date.--For purposes of this section, the + term ``annual payment date'' means with respect to any + +[[Page 124 STAT. 863]] + + calendar year the date determined by the Secretary, but in no + event later than September 30 of such calendar year. + + (b) Determination of Fee Amount.-- + (1) In general.--With respect to each covered entity, the + fee under this section for any calendar year shall be equal to + an amount that bears the same ratio to $2,000,000,000 as-- + (A) the covered entity's gross receipts from medical + device sales taken into account during the preceding + calendar year, bear to + (B) the aggregate gross receipts of all covered + entities from medical device sales taken into account + during such preceding calendar year. + (2) Gross receipts from sales taken into account.--For + purposes of paragraph (1), the gross receipts from medical + device sales taken into account during any calendar year with + respect to any covered entity shall be determined in accordance + with the following table: + + + With respect to a covered entity's + aggregate gross receipts from medical The percentage of gross + device sales during the calendar year receipts taken into account is: + that are: + + Not more than $5,000,000............. 0 percent + More than $5,000,000 but not more 50 percent + than $25,000,000. + More than $25,000,000................ 100 percent. + + + (3) Secretarial determination.--The Secretary shall + calculate the amount of each covered entity's fee for any + calendar year under paragraph (1). In calculating such amount, + the Secretary shall determine such covered entity's gross + receipts from medical device sales on the basis of reports + submitted by the covered entity under subsection (f) and through + the use of any other source of information available to the + Secretary. + + (c) Covered Entity.-- + (1) In general.--For purposes of this section, the term + ``covered entity'' means any manufacturer or importer with gross + receipts from medical device sales. + (2) Controlled groups.-- + (A) In general.--For purposes of this subsection, + all persons treated as a single employer under + subsection (a) or (b) of section 52 of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 or subsection (m) or (o) of section + 414 of such Code shall be treated as a single covered + entity. + (B) <> Inclusion of foreign + corporations.--For purposes of subparagraph (A), in + applying subsections (a) and (b) of section 52 of such + Code to this section, section 1563 of such Code shall be + applied without regard to subsection (b)(2)(C) thereof. + + (d) Medical Device Sales.--For purposes of this section-- + (1) In general.--The term ``medical device sales'' means + sales for use in the United States of any medical device, other + than the sales of a medical device that-- + (A) has been classified in class II under section + 513 of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 + U.S.C. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 864]] + + 360c) and is primarily sold to consumers at retail for + not more than $100 per unit, or + (B) has been classified in class I under such + section. + (2) United states.--For purposes of paragraph (1), the term + ``United States'' means the several States, the District of + Columbia, the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico, and the possessions + of the United States. + (3) Medical device.--For purposes of paragraph (1), the term + ``medical device'' means any device (as defined in section + 201(h) of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. + 321(h))) intended for humans. + + (e) Tax Treatment of Fees.--The fees imposed by this section-- + (1) for purposes of subtitle F of the Internal Revenue Code + of 1986, shall be treated as excise taxes with respect to which + only civil actions for refund under procedures of such subtitle + shall apply, and + (2) for purposes of section 275 of such Code, shall be + considered to be a tax described in section 275(a)(6). + + (f) Reporting Requirement.-- + (1) In general.--Not later than the date determined by the + Secretary following the end of any calendar year, each covered + entity shall report to the Secretary, in such manner as the + Secretary prescribes, the gross receipts from medical device + sales of such covered entity during such calendar year. + (2) Penalty for failure to report.-- + (A) In general.--In the case of any failure to make + a report containing the information required by + paragraph (1) on the date prescribed therefor + (determined with regard to any extension of time for + filing), unless it is shown that such failure is due to + reasonable cause, there shall be paid by the covered + entity failing to file such report, an amount equal to-- + (i) $10,000, plus + (ii) the lesser of-- + (I) an amount equal to $1,000, + multiplied by the number of days during + which such failure continues, or + (II) the amount of the fee imposed + by this section for which such report + was required. + (B) Treatment of penalty.--The penalty imposed under + subparagraph (A)-- + (i) shall be treated as a penalty for purposes + of subtitle F of the Internal Revenue Code of + 1986, + (ii) <> shall be paid on + notice and demand by the Secretary and in the same + manner as tax under such Code, and + (iii) <> with respect + to which only civil actions for refund under + procedures of such subtitle F shall apply. + + (g) Secretary.--For purposes of this section, the term ``Secretary'' +means the Secretary of the Treasury or the Secretary's delegate. + (h) <> Guidance.--The Secretary shall publish +guidance necessary to carry out the purposes of this section, including +identification of medical devices described in subsection (d)(1)(A) and +with respect to the treatment of gross receipts from sales of medical +devices + +[[Page 124 STAT. 865]] + +to another covered entity or to another entity by reason of the +application of subsection (c)(2). + + (i) Application of Section.--This section shall apply to any medical +device sales after December 31, 2008. + +SEC. 9010. <> IMPOSITION OF ANNUAL FEE ON + HEALTH INSURANCE PROVIDERS. + + (a) <> Imposition of Fee.-- + (1) In general.--Each covered entity engaged in the business + of providing health insurance shall pay to the Secretary not + later than the annual payment date of each calendar year + beginning after 2009 a fee in an amount determined under + subsection (b). + (2) <> Annual payment date.--For + purposes of this section, the term ``annual payment date'' means + with respect to any calendar year the date determined by the + Secretary, but in no event later than September 30 of such + calendar year. + + (b) Determination of Fee Amount.-- + (1) In general.--With respect to each covered entity, the + fee under this section for any calendar year shall be equal to + an amount that bears the same ratio to $6,700,000,000 as-- + (A) the sum of-- + (i) the covered entity's net premiums written + with respect to health insurance for any United + States health risk that are taken into account + during the preceding calendar year, plus + (ii) 200 percent of the covered entity's third + party administration agreement fees that are taken + into account during the preceding calendar year, + bears to + (B) the sum of-- + (i) the aggregate net premiums written with + respect to such health insurance of all covered + entities that are taken into account during such + preceding calendar year, plus + (ii) 200 percent of the aggregate third party + administration agreement fees of all covered + entities that are taken into account during such + preceding calendar year. + (2) Amounts taken into account.--For purposes of paragraph + (1)-- + (A) Net premiums written.--The net premiums written + with respect to health insurance for any United States + health risk that are taken into account during any + calendar year with respect to any covered entity shall + be determined in accordance with the following table: + + + With respect to a covered entity's net The percentage of net premiums + premiums written during the calendar written that are taken into + year that are: account is: + + Not more than $25,000,000............ 0 percent + More than $25,000,000 but not more 50 percent + than $50,000,000. + More than $50,000,000................ 100 percent. + + + +[[Page 124 STAT. 866]] + + (B) Third party administration agreement fees.--The + third party administration agreement fees that are taken + into account during any calendar year with respect to + any covered entity shall be determined in accordance + with the following table: + + + With respect to a covered entity's The percentage of third party + third party administration agreement administration agreement fees +fees during the calendar year that are: that are taken into account is: + + Not more than $5,000,000............. 0 percent + More than $5,000,000 but not more 50 percent + than $10,000,000. + More than $10,000,000................ 100 percent. + + + (3) Secretarial determination.--The Secretary shall + calculate the amount of each covered entity's fee for any + calendar year under paragraph (1). In calculating such amount, + the Secretary shall determine such covered entity's net premiums + written with respect to any United States health risk and third + party administration agreement fees on the basis of reports + submitted by the covered entity under subsection (g) and through + the use of any other source of information available to the + Secretary. + + (c) Covered Entity.-- + (1) <> In general.--For purposes of this + section, the term ``covered entity'' means any entity which + provides health insurance for any United States health risk. + (2) Exclusion.--Such term does not include-- + (A) any employer to the extent that such employer + self-insures its employees' health risks, or + (B) any governmental entity (except to the extent + such an entity provides health insurance coverage + through the community health insurance option under + section 1323). + (3) Controlled groups.-- + (A) In general.--For purposes of this subsection, + all persons treated as a single employer under + subsection (a) or (b) of section 52 of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 or subsection (m) or (o) of section + 414 of such Code shall be treated as a single covered + entity (or employer for purposes of paragraph (2)). + (B) <> Inclusion of foreign + corporations.--For purposes of subparagraph (A), in + applying subsections (a) and (b) of section 52 of such + Code to this section, section 1563 of such Code shall be + applied without regard to subsection (b)(2)(C) thereof. + + (d) <> United States Health Risk.--For purposes +of this section, the term ``United States health risk'' means the health +risk of any individual who is-- + (1) a United States citizen, + (2) a resident of the United States (within the meaning of + section 7701(b)(1)(A) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986), or + (3) located in the United States, with respect to the period + such individual is so located. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 867]] + + (e) <> Third Party Administration Agreement +Fees.--For purposes of this section, the term ``third party +administration agreement fees'' means, with respect to any covered +entity, amounts received from an employer which are in excess of +payments made by such covered entity for health benefits under an +arrangement under which such employer self-insures the United States +health risk of its employees. + + (f) Tax Treatment of Fees.--The fees imposed by this section-- + (1) <> for purposes of subtitle F of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, shall be treated as excise + taxes with respect to which only civil actions for refund under + procedures of such subtitle shall apply, and + (2) for purposes of section 275 of such Code shall be + considered to be a tax described in section 275(a)(6). + + (g) Reporting Requirement.-- + (1) In general.--Not later than the date determined by the + Secretary following the end of any calendar year, each covered + entity shall report to the Secretary, in such manner as the + Secretary prescribes, the covered entity's net premiums written + with respect to health insurance for any United States health + risk and third party administration agreement fees for such + calendar year. + (2) Penalty for failure to report.-- + (A) In general.--In the case of any failure to make + a report containing the information required by + paragraph (1) on the date prescribed therefor + (determined with regard to any extension of time for + filing), unless it is shown that such failure is due to + reasonable cause, there shall be paid by the covered + entity failing to file such report, an amount equal to-- + (i) $10,000, plus + (ii) the lesser of-- + (I) an amount equal to $1,000, + multiplied by the number of days during + which such failure continues, or + (II) the amount of the fee imposed + by this section for which such report + was required. + (B) Treatment of penalty.--The penalty imposed under + subparagraph (A)-- + (i) shall be treated as a penalty for purposes + of subtitle F of the Internal Revenue Code of + 1986, + (ii) <> shall be paid on + notice and demand by the Secretary and in the same + manner as tax under such Code, and + (iii) with respect to which only civil actions + for refund under procedures of such subtitle F + shall apply. + + (h) Additional Definitions.--For purposes of this section-- + (1) Secretary.--The term ``Secretary'' means the Secretary + of the Treasury or the Secretary's delegate. + (2) United states.--The term ``United States'' means the + several States, the District of Columbia, the Commonwealth of + Puerto Rico, and the possessions of the United States. + (3) Health insurance.--The term ``health insurance'' shall + not include insurance for long-term care or disability. + + (i) <> Guidance.--The Secretary shall publish +guidance necessary to carry out the purposes of this section. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 868]] + + (j) Application of Section.--This section shall apply to any net +premiums written after December 31, 2008, with respect to health +insurance for any United States health risk, and any third party +administration agreement fees received after such date. + +SEC. 9011. STUDY AND REPORT OF EFFECT ON VETERANS HEALTH CARE. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary of Veterans Affairs shall conduct a +study on the effect (if any) of the provisions of sections 9008, 9009, +and 9010 on-- + (1) the cost of medical care provided to veterans, and + (2) veterans' access to medical devices and branded + prescription drugs. + + (b) Report.--The Secretary of Veterans Affairs shall report the +results of the study under subsection (a) to the Committee on Ways and +Means of the House of Representatives and to the Committee on Finance of +the Senate not later than December 31, 2012. + +SEC. 9012. ELIMINATION OF DEDUCTION FOR EXPENSES ALLOCABLE TO MEDICARE + PART D SUBSIDY. + + (a) In General.--Section 139A of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986 <> is amended by striking the second sentence. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment made +by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after December +31, 2010. + +SEC. 9013. MODIFICATION OF ITEMIZED DEDUCTION FOR MEDICAL EXPENSES. + + (a) In General.--Subsection (a) of section 213 of the Internal +Revenue Code of 1986 <> is amended by striking ``7.5 +percent'' and inserting ``10 percent''. + + (b) Temporary Waiver of Increase for Certain Seniors.--Section 213 +of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is amended by adding at the end the +following new subsection: + ``(f) <> Special Rule for 2013, +2014, 2015, and 2016.--In the case of any taxable year beginning after +December 31, 2012, and ending before January 1, 2017, subsection (a) +shall be applied with respect to a taxpayer by substituting `7.5 +percent' for `10 percent' if such taxpayer or such taxpayer's spouse has +attained age 65 before the close of such taxable year.''. + + (c) Conforming Amendment.--Section 56(b)(1)(B) of the Internal +Revenue Code of 1986 <> is amended by striking ``by +substituting `10 percent' for `7.5 percent' '' and inserting ``without +regard to subsection (f) of such section''. + + (d) <> Effective Date.--The amendments made +by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after December +31, 2012. + +SEC. 9014. LIMITATION ON EXCESSIVE REMUNERATION PAID BY CERTAIN HEALTH + INSURANCE PROVIDERS. + + (a) In General.--Section 162(m) of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986 <> is amended by adding at the end the +following new subparagraph: + ``(6) <> Special rule for application + to certain health insurance providers.-- + ``(A) In general.--No deduction shall be allowed + under this chapter-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 869]] + + ``(i) in the case of applicable individual + remuneration which is for any disqualified taxable + year beginning after December 31, 2012, and which + is attributable to services performed by an + applicable individual during such taxable year, to + the extent that the amount of such remuneration + exceeds $500,000, or + ``(ii) in the case of deferred deduction + remuneration for any taxable year beginning after + December 31, 2012, which is attributable to + services performed by an applicable individual + during any disqualified taxable year beginning + after December 31, 2009, to the extent that the + amount of such remuneration exceeds $500,000 + reduced (but not below zero) by the sum of-- + ``(I) the applicable individual + remuneration for such disqualified + taxable year, plus + ``(II) the portion of the deferred + deduction remuneration for such services + which was taken into account under this + clause in a preceding taxable year (or + which would have been taken into account + under this clause in a preceding taxable + year if this clause were applied by + substituting `December 31, 2009' for + `December 31, 2012' in the matter + preceding subclause (I)). + ``(B) Disqualified taxable year.--For purposes of + this paragraph, the term `disqualified taxable year' + means, with respect to any employer, any taxable year + for which such employer is a covered health insurance + provider. + ``(C) Covered health insurance provider.--For + purposes of this paragraph-- + ``(i) In general.--The term `covered health + insurance provider' means-- + ``(I) with respect to taxable years + beginning after December 31, 2009, and + before January 1, 2013, any employer + which is a health insurance issuer (as + defined in section 9832(b)(2)) and which + receives premiums from providing health + insurance coverage (as defined in + section 9832(b)(1)), and + ``(II) with respect to taxable years + beginning after December 31, 2012, any + employer which is a health insurance + issuer (as defined in section + 9832(b)(2)) and with respect to which + not less than 25 percent of the gross + premiums received from providing health + insurance coverage (as defined in + section 9832(b)(1)) is from minimum + essential coverage (as defined in + section 5000A(f)). + ``(ii) Aggregation rules.--Two or more persons + who are treated as a single employer under + subsection (b), (c), (m), or (o) of section 414 + shall be treated as a single employer, except that + in applying section 1563(a) for purposes of any + such subsection, paragraphs (2) and (3) thereof + shall be disregarded. + ``(D) Applicable individual remuneration.--For + purposes of this paragraph, the term `applicable + individual + +[[Page 124 STAT. 870]] + + remuneration' means, with respect to any applicable + individual for any disqualified taxable year, the + aggregate amount allowable as a deduction under this + chapter for such taxable year (determined without regard + to this subsection) for remuneration (as defined in + paragraph (4) without regard to subparagraphs (B), (C), + and (D) thereof) for services performed by such + individual (whether or not during the taxable year). + Such term shall not include any deferred deduction + remuneration with respect to services performed during + the disqualified taxable year. + ``(E) Deferred deduction remuneration.--For purposes + of this paragraph, the term `deferred deduction + remuneration' means remuneration which would be + applicable individual remuneration for services + performed in a disqualified taxable year but for the + fact that the deduction under this chapter (determined + without regard to this paragraph) for such remuneration + is allowable in a subsequent taxable year. + ``(F) Applicable individual.--For purposes of this + paragraph, the term `applicable individual' means, with + respect to any covered health insurance provider for any + disqualified taxable year, any individual-- + ``(i) who is an officer, director, or employee + in such taxable year, or + ``(ii) who provides services for or on behalf + of such covered health insurance provider during + such taxable year. + ``(G) Coordination.--Rules similar to the rules of + subparagraphs (F) and (G) of paragraph (4) shall apply + for purposes of this paragraph. + ``(H) Regulatory authority.--The Secretary may + prescribe such guidance, rules, or regulations as are + necessary to carry out the purposes of this + paragraph.''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment made +by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after December +31, 2009, with respect to services performed after such date. + +SEC. 9015. ADDITIONAL HOSPITAL INSURANCE TAX ON HIGH-INCOME TAXPAYERS. + + (a) FICA.-- + (1) <> In general.--Section 3101(b) of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is amended-- + (A) by striking ``In addition'' and inserting the + following: + ``(1) In general.--In addition'', + (B) by striking ``the following percentages of the'' + and inserting ``1.45 percent of the'', + (C) by striking ``(as defined in section 3121(b))-- + '' and all that follows and inserting ``(as defined in + section 3121(b)).'', and + (D) by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(2) Additional tax.--In addition to the tax imposed by + paragraph (1) and the preceding subsection, there is hereby + imposed on every taxpayer (other than a corporation, estate, or + trust) a tax equal to 0.5 percent of wages which are received + with respect to employment (as defined in section 3121(b)) + +[[Page 124 STAT. 871]] + + during any taxable year beginning after December 31, 2012, and + which are in excess of-- + ``(A) in the case of a joint return, $250,000, and + ``(B) in any other case, $200,000.''. + (2) Collection of tax.--Section 3102 of the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986 <> is amended by adding at the + end the following new subsection: + + ``(f) Special Rules for Additional Tax.-- + ``(1) In general.--In the case of any tax imposed by section + 3101(b)(2), subsection (a) shall only apply to the extent to + which the taxpayer receives wages from the employer in excess of + $200,000, and the employer may disregard the amount of wages + received by such taxpayer's spouse. + ``(2) Collection of amounts not withheld.--To the extent + that the amount of any tax imposed by section 3101(b)(2) is not + collected by the employer, such tax shall be paid by the + employee. + ``(3) Tax paid by recipient.--If an employer, in violation + of this chapter, fails to deduct and withhold the tax imposed by + section 3101(b)(2) and thereafter the tax is paid by the + employee, the tax so required to be deducted and withheld shall + not be collected from the employer, but this paragraph shall in + no case relieve the employer from liability for any penalties or + additions to tax otherwise applicable in respect of such failure + to deduct and withhold.''. + + (b) SECA.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1401(b) of the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986 <> is amended-- + (A) by striking ``In addition'' and inserting the + following: + ``(1) In general.--In addition'', and + (B) by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(2) Additional tax.-- + ``(A) In general.--In addition to the tax imposed by + paragraph (1) and the preceding subsection, there is + hereby imposed on every taxpayer (other than a + corporation, estate, or trust) for each taxable year + beginning after December 31, 2012, a tax equal to 0.5 + percent of the self-employment income for such taxable + year which is in excess of-- + ``(i) in the case of a joint return, $250,000, + and + ``(ii) in any other case, $200,000. + ``(B) Coordination with fica.--The amounts under + clauses (i) and (ii) of subparagraph (A) shall be + reduced (but not below zero) by the amount of wages + taken into account in determining the tax imposed under + section 3121(b)(2) with respect to the taxpayer.''. + (2) No deduction for additional tax.-- + (A) In general.--Section 164(f) of such Code is + amended by inserting ``(other than the taxes imposed by + section 1401(b)(2))'' after ``section 1401)''. + (B) Deduction for net earnings from self- + employment.--Subparagraph (B) of section + 1402(a)(12) <> is amended by + inserting ``(determined without regard to the rate + imposed under paragraph (2) of section 1401(b))'' after + ``for such year''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 872]] + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments made +by this section shall apply with respect to remuneration received, and +taxable years beginning, after December 31, 2012. + +SEC. 9016. MODIFICATION OF SECTION 833 TREATMENT OF CERTAIN HEALTH + ORGANIZATIONS. + + (a) In General.--Subsection (c) of section 833 of the Internal +Revenue Code of 1986 <> is amended by adding at the +end the following new paragraph: + ``(5) Nonapplication of section in case of low medical loss + ratio.--Notwithstanding the preceding paragraphs, this section + shall not apply to any organization unless such organization's + percentage of total premium revenue expended on reimbursement + for clinical services provided to enrollees under its policies + during such taxable year (as reported under section 2718 of the + Public Health Service Act) is not less than 85 percent.''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment made +by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after December +31, 2009. + +SEC. 9017. EXCISE TAX ON ELECTIVE COSMETIC MEDICAL PROCEDURES. + + (a) In General.--Subtitle D of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as +amended by this Act, is amended by adding at the end the following new +chapter: + + ``CHAPTER 49--ELECTIVE COSMETIC MEDICAL PROCEDURES + +``Sec. 5000B. Imposition of tax on elective cosmetic medical procedures. + +``SEC. 5000B. <> IMPOSITION OF TAX ON ELECTIVE + COSMETIC MEDICAL PROCEDURES. + + ``(a) In General.--There is hereby imposed on any cosmetic surgery +and medical procedure a tax equal to 5 percent of the amount paid for +such procedure (determined without regard to this section), whether paid +by insurance or otherwise. + ``(b) Cosmetic Surgery and Medical Procedure.--For purposes of this +section, the term `cosmetic surgery and medical procedure' means any +cosmetic surgery (as defined in section 213(d)(9)(B)) or other similar +procedure which-- + ``(1) is performed by a licensed medical professional, and + ``(2) is not necessary to ameliorate a deformity arising + from, or directly related to, a congenital abnormality, a + personal injury resulting from an accident or trauma, or + disfiguring disease. + + ``(c) Payment of Tax.-- + ``(1) In general.--The tax imposed by this section shall be + paid by the individual on whom the procedure is performed. + ``(2) Collection.--Every person receiving a payment for + procedures on which a tax is imposed under subsection (a) shall + collect the amount of the tax from the individual on whom the + procedure is performed and remit such tax quarterly to the + Secretary at such time and in such manner as provided by the + Secretary. + ``(3) Secondary liability.--Where any tax imposed by + subsection (a) is not paid at the time payments for cosmetic + surgery and medical procedures are made, then to the extent that + +[[Page 124 STAT. 873]] + + such tax is not collected, such tax shall be paid by the person + who performs the procedure.''. + + (b) Clerical Amendment.--The table of chapters for subtitle D of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as amended by this Act, is amended by +inserting after the item relating to chapter 48 the following new item: + + ``Chapter 49--Elective Cosmetic Medical Procedures''. + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to procedures performed on or after +January 1, 2010. + + Subtitle B--Other Provisions + +SEC. 9021. EXCLUSION OF HEALTH BENEFITS PROVIDED BY INDIAN TRIBAL + GOVERNMENTS. + + (a) In General.--Part III of subchapter B of chapter 1 of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is amended by inserting after section 139C +the following new section: + +``SEC. 139D. <> INDIAN HEALTH CARE BENEFITS. + + ``(a) General Rule.--Except as otherwise provided in this section, +gross income does not include the value of any qualified Indian health +care benefit. + ``(b) <> Qualified Indian Health Care Benefit.-- +For purposes of this section, the term `qualified Indian health care +benefit' means-- + ``(1) any health service or benefit provided or purchased, + directly or indirectly, by the Indian Health Service through a + grant to or a contract or compact with an Indian tribe or tribal + organization, or through a third-party program funded by the + Indian Health Service, + ``(2) medical care provided or purchased by, or amounts to + reimburse for such medical care provided by, an Indian tribe or + tribal organization for, or to, a member of an Indian tribe, + including a spouse or dependent of such a member, + ``(3) coverage under accident or health insurance (or an + arrangement having the effect of accident or health insurance), + or an accident or health plan, provided by an Indian tribe or + tribal organization for medical care to a member of an Indian + tribe, include a spouse or dependent of such a member, and + ``(4) any other medical care provided by an Indian tribe or + tribal organization that supplements, replaces, or substitutes + for a program or service relating to medical care provided by + the Federal government to Indian tribes or members of such a + tribe. + + ``(c) Definitions.--For purposes of this section-- + ``(1) Indian tribe.--The term `Indian tribe' has the meaning + given such term by section 45A(c)(6). + ``(2) Tribal organization.--The term `tribal organization' + has the meaning given such term by section 4(l) of the Indian + Self-Determination and Education Assistance Act. + ``(3) Medical care.--The term `medical care' has the same + meaning as when used in section 213. + ``(4) Accident or health insurance; accident or health + plan.--The terms `accident or health insurance' and `accident + +[[Page 124 STAT. 874]] + + or health plan' have the same meaning as when used in section + 105. + ``(5) Dependent.--The term `dependent' has the meaning given + such term by section 152, determined without regard to + subsections (b)(1), (b)(2), and (d)(1)(B) thereof. + + ``(d) Denial of Double Benefit.--Subsection (a) shall not apply to +the amount of any qualified Indian health care benefit which is not +includible in gross income of the beneficiary of such benefit under any +other provision of this chapter, or to the amount of any such benefit +for which a deduction is allowed to such beneficiary under any other +provision of this chapter.''. + (b) Clerical Amendment.--The table of sections for part III of +subchapter B of chapter 1 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is +amended by inserting after the item relating to section 139C the +following new item: + +``Sec. 139D. Indian health care benefits.''. + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to benefits and coverage provided after +the date of the enactment of this Act. + + (d) <> No Inference.--Nothing in the +amendments made by this section shall be construed to create an +inference with respect to the exclusion from gross income of-- + (1) benefits provided by an Indian tribe or tribal + organization that are not within the scope of this section, and + (2) benefits provided prior to the date of the enactment of + this Act. + +SEC. 9022. ESTABLISHMENT OF SIMPLE CAFETERIA PLANS FOR SMALL BUSINESSES. + + (a) In General.--Section 125 of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986 <> (relating to cafeteria plans), as amended by +this Act, is amended by redesignating subsections (j) and (k) as +subsections (k) and (l), respectively, and by inserting after subsection +(i) the following new subsection: + + ``(j) Simple Cafeteria Plans for Small Businesses.-- + ``(1) In general.--An eligible employer maintaining a simple + cafeteria plan with respect to which the requirements of this + subsection are met for any year shall be treated as meeting any + applicable nondiscrimination requirement during such year. + ``(2) Simple cafeteria plan.--For purposes of this + subsection, the term `simple cafeteria plan' means a cafeteria + plan-- + ``(A) which is established and maintained by an + eligible employer, and + ``(B) with respect to which the contribution + requirements of paragraph (3), and the eligibility and + participation requirements of paragraph (4), are met. + ``(3) Contribution requirements.-- + ``(A) In general.--The requirements of this + paragraph are met if, under the plan the employer is + required, without regard to whether a qualified employee + makes any salary reduction contribution, to make a + contribution to provide qualified benefits under the + plan on behalf of each qualified employee in an amount + equal to-- + ``(i) a uniform percentage (not less than 2 + percent) of the employee's compensation for the + plan year, or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 875]] + + ``(ii) an amount which is not less than the + lesser of-- + ``(I) 6 percent of the employee's + compensation for the plan year, or + ``(II) twice the amount of the + salary reduction contributions of each + qualified employee. + ``(B) Matching contributions on behalf of highly + compensated and key employees.--The requirements of + subparagraph (A)(ii) shall not be treated as met if, + under the plan, the rate of contributions with respect + to any salary reduction contribution of a highly + compensated or key employee at any rate of contribution + is greater than that with respect to an employee who is + not a highly compensated or key employee. + ``(C) Additional contributions.--Subject to + subparagraph (B), nothing in this paragraph shall be + treated as prohibiting an employer from making + contributions to provide qualified benefits under the + plan in addition to contributions required under + subparagraph (A). + ``(D) Definitions.--For purposes of this paragraph-- + ``(i) Salary reduction contribution.--The term + `salary reduction contribution' means, with + respect to a cafeteria plan, any amount which is + contributed to the plan at the election of the + employee and which is not includible in gross + income by reason of this section. + ``(ii) Qualified employee.--The term + `qualified employee' means, with respect to a + cafeteria plan, any employee who is not a highly + compensated or key employee and who is eligible to + participate in the plan. + ``(iii) Highly compensated employee.--The term + `highly compensated employee' has the meaning + given such term by section 414(q). + ``(iv) Key employee.--The term `key employee' + has the meaning given such term by section 416(i). + ``(4) Minimum eligibility and participation requirements.-- + ``(A) In general.--The requirements of this + paragraph shall be treated as met with respect to any + year if, under the plan-- + ``(i) all employees who had at least 1,000 + hours of service for the preceding plan year are + eligible to participate, and + ``(ii) each employee eligible to participate + in the plan may, subject to terms and conditions + applicable to all participants, elect any benefit + available under the plan. + ``(B) Certain employees may be excluded.--For + purposes of subparagraph (A)(i), an employer may elect + to exclude under the plan employees-- + ``(i) who have not attained the age of 21 + before the close of a plan year, + ``(ii) who have less than 1 year of service + with the employer as of any day during the plan + year, + ``(iii) who are covered under an agreement + which the Secretary of Labor finds to be a + collective bargaining agreement if there is + evidence that the benefits + +[[Page 124 STAT. 876]] + + covered under the cafeteria plan were the subject + of good faith bargaining between employee + representatives and the employer, or + ``(iv) who are described in section + 410(b)(3)(C) (relating to nonresident aliens + working outside the United States). + A plan may provide a shorter period of service or + younger age for purposes of clause (i) or (ii). + ``(5) Eligible employer.--For purposes of this subsection-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `eligible employer' + means, with respect to any year, any employer if such + employer employed an average of 100 or fewer employees + on business days during either of the 2 preceding years. + For purposes of this subparagraph, a year may only be + taken into account if the employer was in existence + throughout the year. + ``(B) Employers not in existence during preceding + year.--If an employer was not in existence throughout + the preceding year, the determination under subparagraph + (A) shall be based on the average number of employees + that it is reasonably expected such employer will employ + on business days in the current year. + ``(C) Growing employers retain treatment as small + employer.-- + ``(i) In general.--If-- + ``(I) an employer was an eligible + employer for any year (a `qualified + year'), and + ``(II) such employer establishes a + simple cafeteria plan for its employees + for such year, + then, notwithstanding the fact the employer fails + to meet the requirements of subparagraph (A) for + any subsequent year, such employer shall be + treated as an eligible employer for such + subsequent year with respect to employees (whether + or not employees during a qualified year) of any + trade or business which was covered by the plan + during any qualified year. + ``(ii) Exception.--This subparagraph shall + cease to apply if the employer employs an average + of 200 or more employees on business days during + any year preceding any such subsequent year. + ``(D) Special rules.-- + ``(i) Predecessors.--Any reference in this + paragraph to an employer shall include a reference + to any predecessor of such employer. + ``(ii) Aggregation rules.--All persons treated + as a single employer under subsection (a) or (b) + of section 52, or subsection (n) or (o) of section + 414, shall be treated as one person. + ``(6) Applicable nondiscrimination requirement.--For + purposes of this subsection, the term `applicable + nondiscrimination requirement' means any requirement under + subsection (b) of this section, section 79(d), section 105(h), + or paragraph (2), (3), (4), or (8) of section 129(d). + ``(7) Compensation.--The term `compensation' has the meaning + given such term by section 414(s).''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendments made +by this section shall apply to years beginning after December 31, 2010. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 877]] + +SEC. 9023. QUALIFYING THERAPEUTIC DISCOVERY PROJECT CREDIT. + + (a) In General.--Subpart E of part IV of subchapter A of chapter 1 +of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is amended by inserting after +section 48C the following new section: + +``SEC. 48D. <> QUALIFYING THERAPEUTIC DISCOVERY + PROJECT CREDIT. + + ``(a) In General.--For purposes of section 46, the qualifying +therapeutic discovery project credit for any taxable year is an amount +equal to 50 percent of the qualified investment for such taxable year +with respect to any qualifying therapeutic discovery project of an +eligible taxpayer. + ``(b) Qualified Investment.-- + ``(1) In general.--For purposes of subsection (a), the + qualified investment for any taxable year is the aggregate + amount of the costs paid or incurred in such taxable year for + expenses necessary for and directly related to the conduct of a + qualifying therapeutic discovery project. + ``(2) Limitation.--The amount which is treated as qualified + investment for all taxable years with respect to any qualifying + therapeutic discovery project shall not exceed the amount + certified by the Secretary as eligible for the credit under this + section. + ``(3) Exclusions.--The qualified investment for any taxable + year with respect to any qualifying therapeutic discovery + project shall not take into account any cost-- + ``(A) for remuneration for an employee described in + section 162(m)(3), + ``(B) for interest expenses, + ``(C) for facility maintenance expenses, + ``(D) which is identified as a service cost under + section 1.263A-1(e)(4) of title 26, Code of Federal + Regulations, or + ``(E) for any other expense as determined by the + Secretary as appropriate to carry out the purposes of + this section. + ``(4) Certain progress expenditure rules made applicable.-- + In the case of costs described in paragraph (1) that are paid + for property of a character subject to an allowance for + depreciation, rules similar to the rules of subsections (c)(4) + and (d) of section 46 (as in effect on the day before the date + of the enactment of the Revenue Reconciliation Act of 1990) + shall apply for purposes of this section. + ``(5) Application of subsection.--An investment shall be + considered a qualified investment under this subsection only if + such investment is made in a taxable year beginning in 2009 or + 2010. + + ``(c) Definitions.-- + ``(1) Qualifying therapeutic discovery project.--The term + `qualifying therapeutic discovery project' means a project which + is designed-- + ``(A) to treat or prevent diseases or conditions by + conducting pre-clinical activities, clinical trials, and + clinical studies, or carrying out research protocols, + for the purpose of securing approval of a product under + section 505(b) of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic + Act or section 351(a) of the Public Health Service Act, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 878]] + + ``(B) to diagnose diseases or conditions or to + determine molecular factors related to diseases or + conditions by developing molecular diagnostics to guide + therapeutic decisions, or + ``(C) to develop a product, process, or technology + to further the delivery or administration of + therapeutics. + ``(2) Eligible taxpayer.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `eligible taxpayer' + means a taxpayer which employs not more than 250 + employees in all businesses of the taxpayer at the time + of the submission of the application under subsection + (d)(2). + ``(B) Aggregation rules.--All persons treated as a + single employer under subsection (a) or (b) of section + 52, or subsection (m) or (o) of section 414, shall be so + treated for purposes of this paragraph. + ``(3) Facility maintenance expenses.--The term `facility + maintenance expenses' means costs paid or incurred to maintain a + facility, including-- + ``(A) mortgage or rent payments, + ``(B) insurance payments, + ``(C) utility and maintenance costs, and + ``(D) costs of employment of maintenance personnel. + + ``(d) Qualifying Therapeutic Discovery Project Program.-- + ``(1) Establishment.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--Not later + than 60 days after the date of the enactment of this + section, the Secretary, in consultation with the + Secretary of Health and Human Services, shall establish + a qualifying therapeutic discovery project program to + consider and award certifications for qualified + investments eligible for credits under this section to + qualifying therapeutic discovery project sponsors. + ``(B) Limitation.--The total amount of credits that + may be allocated under the program shall not exceed + $1,000,000,000 for the 2-year period beginning with + 2009. + ``(2) Certification.-- + ``(A) Application period.--Each applicant for + certification under this paragraph shall submit an + application containing such information as the Secretary + may require during the period beginning on the date the + Secretary establishes the program under paragraph (1). + ``(B) Time for review of applications.--The + Secretary shall take action to approve or deny any + application under subparagraph (A) within 30 days of the + submission of such application. + ``(C) Multi-year applications.--An application for + certification under subparagraph (A) may include a + request for an allocation of credits for more than 1 of + the years described in paragraph (1)(B). + ``(3) Selection criteria.--In determining the qualifying + therapeutic discovery projects with respect to which qualified + investments may be certified under this section, the Secretary-- + ``(A) shall take into consideration only those + projects that show reasonable potential-- + ``(i) to result in new therapies-- + ``(I) to treat areas of unmet + medical need, or + ``(II) to prevent, detect, or treat + chronic or acute diseases and + conditions, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 879]] + + ``(ii) to reduce long-term health care costs + in the United States, or + ``(iii) to significantly advance the goal of + curing cancer within the 30-year period beginning + on the date the Secretary establishes the program + under paragraph (1), and + ``(B) shall take into consideration which projects + have the greatest potential-- + ``(i) to create and sustain (directly or + indirectly) high quality, high-paying jobs in the + United States, and + ``(ii) to advance United States + competitiveness in the fields of life, biological, + and medical sciences. + ``(4) <> + Disclosure of allocations.--The Secretary shall, upon making a + certification under this subsection, publicly disclose the + identity of the applicant and the amount of the credit with + respect to such applicant. + + ``(e) Special Rules.-- + ``(1) Basis adjustment.--For purposes of this subtitle, if a + credit is allowed under this section for an expenditure related + to property of a character subject to an allowance for + depreciation, the basis of such property shall be reduced by the + amount of such credit. + ``(2) Denial of double benefit.-- + ``(A) Bonus depreciation.--A credit shall not be + allowed under this section for any investment for which + bonus depreciation is allowed under section 168(k), + 1400L(b)(1), or 1400N(d)(1). + ``(B) Deductions.--No deduction under this subtitle + shall be allowed for the portion of the expenses + otherwise allowable as a deduction taken into account in + determining the credit under this section for the + taxable year which is equal to the amount of the credit + determined for such taxable year under subsection (a) + attributable to such portion. This subparagraph shall + not apply to expenses related to property of a character + subject to an allowance for depreciation the basis of + which is reduced under paragraph (1), or which are + described in section 280C(g). + ``(C) Credit for research activities.-- + ``(i) In general.--Except as provided in + clause (ii), any expenses taken into account under + this section for a taxable year shall not be taken + into account for purposes of determining the + credit allowable under section 41 or 45C for such + taxable year. + ``(ii) Expenses included in determining base + period research expenses.--Any expenses for any + taxable year which are qualified research expenses + (within the meaning of section 41(b)) shall be + taken into account in determining base period + research expenses for purposes of applying section + 41 to subsequent taxable years. + + ``(f) Coordination With Department of Treasury Grants.--In the case +of any investment with respect to which the Secretary makes a grant +under section 9023(e) of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act +of 2009-- + ``(1) Denial of credit.--No credit shall be determined under + this section with respect to such investment for the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 880]] + + taxable year in which such grant is made or any subsequent + taxable year. + ``(2) Recapture of credits for progress expenditures made + before grant.--If a credit was determined under this section + with respect to such investment for any taxable year ending + before such grant is made-- + ``(A) the tax imposed under subtitle A on the + taxpayer for the taxable year in which such grant is + made shall be increased by so much of such credit as was + allowed under section 38, + ``(B) the general business carryforwards under + section 39 shall be adjusted so as to recapture the + portion of such credit which was not so allowed, and + ``(C) the amount of such grant shall be determined + without regard to any reduction in the basis of any + property of a character subject to an allowance for + depreciation by reason of such credit. + ``(3) Treatment of grants.--Any such grant shall not be + includible in the gross income of the taxpayer.''. + + (b) Inclusion as Part of Investment Credit.--Section 46 of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986 <> is amended-- + (1) by adding a comma at the end of paragraph (2), + (2) by striking the period at the end of paragraph (5) and + inserting ``, and'', and + (3) by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(6) the qualifying therapeutic discovery project + credit.''. + + (c) Conforming Amendments.-- + (1) Section 49(a)(1)(C) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 + is <> amended-- + (A) by striking ``and'' at the end of clause (iv), + (B) by striking the period at the end of clause (v) + and inserting ``, and'', and + (C) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(vi) the basis of any property to which + paragraph (1) of section 48D(e) applies which is + part of a qualifying therapeutic discovery project + under such section 48D.''. + (2) <> Section 280C of such Code is + amended by adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(g) Qualifying Therapeutic Discovery Project Credit.-- + ``(1) In general.--No deduction shall be allowed for that + portion of the qualified investment (as defined in section + 48D(b)) otherwise allowable as a deduction for the taxable year + which-- + ``(A) would be qualified research expenses (as + defined in section 41(b)), basic research expenses (as + defined in section 41(e)(2)), or qualified clinical + testing expenses (as defined in section 45C(b)) if the + credit under section 41 or section 45C were allowed with + respect to such expenses for such taxable year, and + ``(B) is equal to the amount of the credit + determined for such taxable year under section 48D(a), + reduced by-- + ``(i) the amount disallowed as a deduction by + reason of section 48D(e)(2)(B), and + ``(ii) the amount of any basis reduction under + section 48D(e)(1). + ``(2) Similar rule where taxpayer capitalizes rather than + deducts expenses.--In the case of expenses described + +[[Page 124 STAT. 881]] + + in paragraph (1)(A) taken into account in determining the credit + under section 48D for the taxable year, if-- + ``(A) the amount of the portion of the credit + determined under such section with respect to such + expenses, exceeds + ``(B) the amount allowable as a deduction for such + taxable year for such expenses (determined without + regard to paragraph (1)), + the amount chargeable to capital account for the taxable year + for such expenses shall be reduced by the amount of such excess. + ``(3) <> Controlled groups.-- + Paragraph (3) of subsection (b) shall apply for purposes of this + subsection.''. + + (d) Clerical Amendment.--The table of sections for subpart E of part +IV of subchapter A of chapter 1 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is +amended by inserting after the item relating to section 48C the +following new item: + +``Sec. 48D. Qualifying therapeutic discovery project credit.''. + + (e) <> Grants for Qualified Investments in +Therapeutic Discovery Projects in Lieu of Tax Credits.-- + (1) In general.--Upon application, the Secretary of the + Treasury shall, subject to the requirements of this subsection, + provide a grant to each person who makes a qualified investment + in a qualifying therapeutic discovery project in the amount of + 50 percent of such investment. No grant shall be made under this + subsection with respect to any investment unless such investment + is made during a taxable year beginning in 2009 or 2010. + (2) Application.-- + (A) In general.--At the stated election of the + applicant, an application for certification under + section 48D(d)(2) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 + for a credit under such section for the taxable year of + the applicant which begins in 2009 shall be considered + to be an application for a grant under paragraph (1) for + such taxable year. + (B) Taxable years beginning in 2010.--An application + for a grant under paragraph (1) for a taxable year + beginning in 2010 shall be submitted-- + (i) not earlier than the day after the last + day of such taxable year, and + (ii) not later than the due date (including + extensions) for filing the return of tax for such + taxable year. + (C) Information to be submitted.--An application for + a grant under paragraph (1) shall include such + information and be in such form as the Secretary may + require to state the amount of the credit allowable (but + for the receipt of a grant under this subsection) under + section 48D for the taxable year for the qualified + investment with respect to which such application is + made. + (3) Time for payment of grant.-- + (A) In general.--The Secretary of the Treasury shall + make payment of the amount of any grant under paragraph + (1) during the 30-day period beginning on the later of-- + (i) the date of the application for such + grant, or + (ii) the date the qualified investment for + which the grant is being made is made. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 882]] + + (B) Regulations.--In the case of investments of an + ongoing nature, the Secretary shall issue regulations to + determine the date on which a qualified investment shall + be deemed to have been made for purposes of this + paragraph. + (4) <> Qualified investment.--For + purposes of this subsection, the term ``qualified investment'' + means a qualified investment that is certified under section + 48D(d) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 for purposes of the + credit under such section 48D. + (5) Application of certain rules.-- + (A) In general.--In making grants under this + subsection, the Secretary of the Treasury shall apply + rules similar to the rules of section 50 of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986. In applying such rules, any + increase in tax under chapter 1 of such Code by reason + of an investment ceasing to be a qualified investment + shall be imposed on the person to whom the grant was + made. + (B) Special rules.-- + (i) Recapture of excessive grant amounts.--If + the amount of a grant made under this subsection + exceeds the amount allowable as a grant under this + subsection, such excess shall be recaptured under + subparagraph (A) as if the investment to which + such excess portion of the grant relates had + ceased to be a qualified investment immediately + after such grant was made. + (ii) Grant information not treated as return + information.--In no event shall the amount of a + grant made under paragraph (1), the identity of + the person to whom such grant was made, or a + description of the investment with respect to + which such grant was made be treated as return + information for purposes of section 6103 of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986. + (6) Exception for certain non-taxpayers.--The Secretary of + the Treasury shall not make any grant under this subsection to-- + (A) any Federal, State, or local government (or any + political subdivision, agency, or instrumentality + thereof), + (B) any organization described in section 501(c) of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 and exempt from tax + under section 501(a) of such Code, + (C) any entity referred to in paragraph (4) of + section 54(j) of such Code, or + (D) any partnership or other pass-thru entity any + partner (or other holder of an equity or profits + interest) of which is described in subparagraph (A), (B) + or (C). + In the case of a partnership or other pass-thru entity described + in subparagraph (D), partners and other holders of any equity or + profits interest shall provide to such partnership or entity + such information as the Secretary of the Treasury may require to + carry out the purposes of this paragraph. + (7) Secretary.--Any reference in this subsection to the + Secretary of the Treasury shall be treated as including the + Secretary's delegate. + (8) Other terms.--Any term used in this subsection which is + also used in section 48D of the Internal Revenue Code + +[[Page 124 STAT. 883]] + + of 1986 shall have the same meaning for purposes of this + subsection as when used in such section. + (9) Denial of double benefit.--No credit shall be allowed + under section 46(6) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 by + reason of section 48D of such Code for any investment for which + a grant is awarded under this subsection. + (10) Appropriations.--There is hereby appropriated to the + Secretary of the Treasury such sums as may be necessary to carry + out this subsection. + (11) Termination.--The Secretary of the Treasury shall not + make any grant to any person under this subsection unless the + application of such person for such grant is received before + January 1, 2013. + (12) Protecting middle class families from tax increases.-- + It is the sense of the Senate that the Senate should reject any + procedural maneuver that would raise taxes on middle class + families, such as a motion to commit the pending legislation to + the Committee on Finance, which is designed to kill legislation + that provides tax cuts for American workers and families, + including the affordability tax credit and the small business + tax credit. + + (f) <> Effective Date.--The amendments made +by subsections (a) through (d) of this section shall apply to amounts +paid or incurred after December 31, 2008, in taxable years beginning +after such date. + +TITLE X--STRENGTHENING QUALITY, AFFORDABLE HEALTH CARE FOR ALL AMERICANS + + Subtitle A--Provisions Relating to Title I + +SEC. 10101. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE A. + + (a) Section 2711 of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 1001(5) of this Act, is amended to read as follows: + +``SEC. 2711. <> NO LIFETIME OR ANNUAL LIMITS. + + ``(a) Prohibition.-- + ``(1) In general.--A group health plan and a health + insurance issuer offering group or individual health insurance + coverage may not establish-- + ``(A) lifetime limits on the dollar value of + benefits for any participant or beneficiary; or + ``(B) except as provided in paragraph (2), annual + limits on the dollar value of benefits for any + participant or beneficiary. + ``(2) Annual limits prior to 2014.--With respect to plan + years beginning prior to January 1, 2014, a group health plan + and a health insurance issuer offering group or individual + health insurance coverage may only establish a restricted annual + limit on the dollar value of benefits for any participant or + beneficiary with respect to the scope of benefits that are + essential health benefits under section 1302(b) of the Patient + +[[Page 124 STAT. 884]] + + Protection and Affordable Care Act, as determined by the + Secretary. In defining the term `restricted annual limit' for + purposes of the preceding sentence, the Secretary shall ensure + that access to needed services is made available with a minimal + impact on premiums. + + ``(b) Per Beneficiary Limits.--Subsection (a) shall not be construed +to prevent a group health plan or health insurance coverage from placing +annual or lifetime per beneficiary limits on specific covered benefits +that are not essential health benefits under section 1302(b) of the +Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, to the extent that such +limits are otherwise permitted under Federal or State law.''. + (b) Section 2715(a) of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 1001(5) of this Act, <> is amended by +striking ``and providing to enrollees'' and inserting ``and providing to +applicants, enrollees, and policyholders or certificate holders''. + + (c) Subpart II of part A of title XXVII of the Public Health Service +Act, as added by section 1001(5), is amended by inserting after section +2715, the following: + +``SEC. 2715A. <> PROVISION + OF ADDITIONAL INFORMATION. + + ``A group health plan and a health insurance issuer offering group +or individual health insurance coverage shall comply with the provisions +of section 1311(e)(3) of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, +except that a plan or coverage that is not offered through an Exchange +shall only be required to submit the information required to the +Secretary and the State insurance commissioner, and make such +information available to the public.''. + (d) Section 2716 of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 1001(5) of this Act, is amended to read as follows: + +``SEC. 2716. <> PROHIBITION ON DISCRIMINATION + IN FAVOR OF HIGHLY COMPENSATED INDIVIDUALS. + + ``(a) In General.--A group health plan (other than a self-insured +plan) shall satisfy the requirements of section 105(h)(2) of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (relating to prohibition on discrimination +in favor of highly compensated individuals). + ``(b) Rules and Definitions.--For purposes of this section-- + ``(1) Certain rules to apply.--Rules similar to the rules + contained in paragraphs (3), (4), and (8) of section 105(h) of + such Code shall apply. + ``(2) Highly compensated individual.--The term `highly + compensated individual' has the meaning given such term by + section 105(h)(5) of such Code.''. + + (e) Section 2717 of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 1001(5) of this Act, <> is amended-- + (1) by redesignating subsections (c) and (d) as subsections + (d) and (e), respectively; and + (2) by inserting after subsection (b), the following: + + ``(c) Protection of Second Amendment Gun Rights.-- + ``(1) Wellness and prevention programs.--A wellness and + health promotion activity implemented under subsection (a)(1)(D) + may not require the disclosure or collection of any information + relating to-- + ``(A) the presence or storage of a lawfully- + possessed firearm or ammunition in the residence or on + the property of an individual; or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 885]] + + ``(B) the lawful use, possession, or storage of a + firearm or ammunition by an individual. + ``(2) Limitation on data collection.--None of the + authorities provided to the Secretary under the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act or an amendment made by that + Act shall be construed to authorize or may be used for the + collection of any information relating to-- + ``(A) the lawful ownership or possession of a + firearm or ammunition; + ``(B) the lawful use of a firearm or ammunition; or + ``(C) the lawful storage of a firearm or ammunition. + ``(3) Limitation on databases or data banks.--None of the + authorities provided to the Secretary under the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act or an amendment made by that + Act shall be construed to authorize or may be used to maintain + records of individual ownership or possession of a firearm or + ammunition. + ``(4) Limitation on determination of premium rates or + eligibility for health insurance.--A premium rate may not be + increased, health insurance coverage may not be denied, and a + discount, rebate, or reward offered for participation in a + wellness program may not be reduced or withheld under any health + benefit plan issued pursuant to or in accordance with the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act or an amendment made + by that Act on the basis of, or on reliance upon-- + ``(A) the lawful ownership or possession of a + firearm or ammunition; or + ``(B) the lawful use or storage of a firearm or + ammunition. + ``(5) Limitation on data collection requirements for + individuals.--No individual shall be required to disclose any + information under any data collection activity authorized under + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act or an amendment + made by that Act relating to-- + ``(A) the lawful ownership or possession of a + firearm or ammunition; or + ``(B) the lawful use, possession, or storage of a + firearm or ammunition.''. + + (f) Section 2718 of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 1001(5), is amended to read as follows: + +``SEC. 2718. <> BRINGING DOWN THE COST + OF HEALTH CARE COVERAGE. + + ``(a) Clear Accounting for Costs.--A health insurance issuer +offering group or individual health insurance coverage (including a +grandfathered health plan) shall, with respect to each plan year, submit +to the Secretary a report concerning the ratio of the incurred loss (or +incurred claims) plus the loss adjustment expense (or change in contract +reserves) to earned premiums. Such report shall include the percentage +of total premium revenue, after accounting for collections or receipts +for risk adjustment and risk corridors and payments of reinsurance, that +such coverage expends-- + ``(1) on reimbursement for clinical services provided to + enrollees under such coverage; + ``(2) for activities that improve health care quality; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 886]] + + ``(3) on all other non-claims costs, including an + explanation of the nature of such costs, and excluding Federal + and State taxes and licensing or regulatory fees. + +The Secretary <> shall make +reports received under this section available to the public on the +Internet website of the Department of Health and Human Services. + + ``(b) Ensuring That Consumers Receive Value for Their Premium +Payments.-- + ``(1) Requirement to provide value for premium payments.-- + ``(A) <> Requirement.--Beginning + not later than January 1, 2011, a health insurance + issuer offering group or individual health insurance + coverage (including a grandfathered health plan) shall, + with respect to each plan year, provide an annual rebate + to each enrollee under such coverage, on a pro rata + basis, if the ratio of the amount of premium revenue + expended by the issuer on costs described in paragraphs + (1) and (2) of subsection (a) to the total amount of + premium revenue (excluding Federal and State taxes and + licensing or regulatory fees and after accounting for + payments or receipts for risk adjustment, risk + corridors, and reinsurance under sections 1341, 1342, + and 1343 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act) for the plan year (except as provided in + subparagraph (B)(ii)), is less than-- + ``(i) with respect to a health insurance + issuer offering coverage in the large group + market, 85 percent, or such higher percentage as a + State may by regulation determine; or + ``(ii) with respect to a health insurance + issuer offering coverage in the small group market + or in the individual market, 80 percent, or such + higher percentage as a State may by regulation + determine, except that the Secretary may adjust + such percentage with respect to a State if the + Secretary determines that the application of such + 80 percent may destabilize the individual market + in such State. + ``(B) Rebate amount.-- + ``(i) Calculation of amount.--The total amount + of an annual rebate required under this paragraph + shall be in an amount equal to the product of-- + ``(I) the amount by which the + percentage described in clause (i) or + (ii) of subparagraph (A) exceeds the + ratio described in such subparagraph; + and + ``(II) the total amount of premium + revenue (excluding Federal and State + taxes and licensing or regulatory fees + and after accounting for payments or + receipts for risk adjustment, risk + corridors, and reinsurance under + sections 1341, 1342, and 1343 of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act) for such plan year. + ``(ii) Calculation based on average ratio.-- + Beginning on January 1, 2014, <> the determination made under subparagraph + (A) for the year involved shall be based on the + averages of the premiums expended on the costs + described in such subparagraph and total + +[[Page 124 STAT. 887]] + + premium revenue for each of the previous 3 years + for the plan. + ``(2) Consideration in setting percentages.--In determining + the percentages under paragraph (1), a State shall seek to + ensure adequate participation by health insurance issuers, + competition in the health insurance market in the State, and + value for consumers so that premiums are used for clinical + services and quality improvements. + ``(3) <> Enforcement.--The Secretary + shall promulgate regulations for enforcing the provisions of + this section and may provide for appropriate penalties. + + ``(c) <> Definitions.--Not later +than December 31, 2010, and subject to the certification of the +Secretary, the National Association of Insurance Commissioners shall +establish uniform definitions of the activities reported under +subsection (a) and standardized methodologies for calculating measures +of such activities, including definitions of which activities, and in +what regard such activities, constitute activities described in +subsection (a)(2). Such methodologies shall be designed to take into +account the special circumstances of smaller plans, different types of +plans, and newer plans. + + ``(d) Adjustments.--The Secretary may adjust the rates described in +subsection (b) if the Secretary determines appropriate on account of the +volatility of the individual market due to the establishment of State +Exchanges. + ``(e) Standard Hospital Charges.--Each hospital operating within the +United States shall for each year establish (and update) and make public +(in accordance with guidelines developed by the Secretary) a list of the +hospital's standard charges for items and services provided by the +hospital, including for diagnosis-related groups established under +section 1886(d)(4) of the Social Security Act.''. + (g) Section 2719 of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 1001(4) of this Act, is amended to read as follows: + +``SEC. 2719. <> APPEALS PROCESS. + + ``(a) Internal Claims Appeals.-- + ``(1) In general.--A group health plan and a health + insurance issuer offering group or individual health insurance + coverage shall implement an effective appeals process for + appeals of coverage determinations and claims, under which the + plan or issuer shall, at a minimum-- + ``(A) have in effect an internal claims appeal + process; + ``(B) provide notice to enrollees, in a culturally + and linguistically appropriate manner, of available + internal and external appeals processes, and the + availability of any applicable office of health + insurance consumer assistance or ombudsman established + under section 2793 to assist such enrollees with the + appeals processes; and + ``(C) allow an enrollee to review their file, to + present evidence and testimony as part of the appeals + process, and to receive continued coverage pending the + outcome of the appeals process. + ``(2) Established processes.--To comply with paragraph (1)-- + ``(A) a group health plan and a health insurance + issuer offering group health coverage shall provide an + internal claims and appeals process that initially + incorporates the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 888]] + + claims and appeals procedures (including urgent claims) + set forth at section 2560.503-1 of title 29, Code of + Federal Regulations, as published on November 21, 2000 + (65 Fed. Reg. 70256), and shall update such process in + accordance with any standards established by the + Secretary of Labor for such plans and issuers; and + ``(B) a health insurance issuer offering individual + health coverage, and any other issuer not subject to + subparagraph (A), shall provide an internal claims and + appeals process that initially incorporates the claims + and appeals procedures set forth under applicable law + (as in existence on the date of enactment of this + section), and shall update such process in accordance + with any standards established by the Secretary of + Health and Human Services for such issuers. + + ``(b) External Review.--A group health plan and a health insurance +issuer offering group or individual health insurance coverage-- + ``(1) shall comply with the applicable State external review + process for such plans and issuers that, at a minimum, includes + the consumer protections set forth in the Uniform External + Review Model Act promulgated by the National Association of + Insurance Commissioners and is binding on such plans; or + ``(2) shall implement an effective external review process + that meets minimum standards established by the Secretary + through guidance and that is similar to the process described + under paragraph (1)-- + ``(A) if the applicable State has not established an + external review process that meets the requirements of + paragraph (1); or + ``(B) if the plan is a self-insured plan that is not + subject to State insurance regulation (including a State + law that establishes an external review process + described in paragraph (1)). + + ``(c) Secretary Authority.--The Secretary may deem the external +review process of a group health plan or health insurance issuer, in +operation as of the date of enactment of this section, to be in +compliance with the applicable process established under subsection (b), +as determined appropriate by the Secretary.''. + (h) Subpart II of part A of title XVIII of the Public Health Service +Act, as added by section 1001(5) of this Act, is amended by inserting +after section 2719 the following: + +``SEC. 2719A. <> PATIENT PROTECTIONS. + + ``(a) Choice of Health Care Professional.--If a group health plan, +or a health insurance issuer offering group or individual health +insurance coverage, requires or provides for designation by a +participant, beneficiary, or enrollee of a participating primary care +provider, then the plan or issuer shall permit each participant, +beneficiary, and enrollee to designate any participating primary care +provider who is available to accept such individual. + ``(b) Coverage of Emergency Services.-- + ``(1) In general.--If a group health plan, or a health + insurance issuer offering group or individual health insurance + issuer, provides or covers any benefits with respect to services + in an emergency department of a hospital, the plan or issuer + +[[Page 124 STAT. 889]] + + shall cover emergency services (as defined in paragraph + (2)(B))-- + ``(A) without the need for any prior authorization + determination; + ``(B) whether the health care provider furnishing + such services is a participating provider with respect + to such services; + ``(C) in a manner so that, if such services are + provided to a participant, beneficiary, or enrollee-- + ``(i) by a nonparticipating health care + provider with or without prior authorization; or + ``(ii)(I) such services will be provided + without imposing any requirement under the plan + for prior authorization of services or any + limitation on coverage where the provider of + services does not have a contractual relationship + with the plan for the providing of services that + is more restrictive than the requirements or + limitations that apply to emergency department + services received from providers who do have such + a contractual relationship with the plan; and + ``(II) if such services are provided out-of- + network, the cost-sharing requirement (expressed + as a copayment amount or coinsurance rate) is the + same requirement that would apply if such services + were provided in-network; + ``(D) without regard to any other term or condition + of such coverage (other than exclusion or coordination + of benefits, or an affiliation or waiting period, + permitted under section 2701 of this Act, section 701 of + the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974, or + section 9801 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, and + other than applicable cost-sharing). + ``(2) Definitions.--In this subsection: + ``(A) Emergency medical condition.--The term + `emergency medical condition' means a medical condition + manifesting itself by acute symptoms of sufficient + severity (including severe pain) such that a prudent + layperson, who possesses an average knowledge of health + and medicine, could reasonably expect the absence of + immediate medical attention to result in a condition + described in clause (i), (ii), or (iii) of section + 1867(e)(1)(A) of the Social Security Act. + ``(B) Emergency services.--The term `emergency + services' means, with respect to an emergency medical + condition-- + ``(i) a medical screening examination (as + required under section 1867 of the Social Security + Act) that is within the capability of the + emergency department of a hospital, including + ancillary services routinely available to the + emergency department to evaluate such emergency + medical condition, and + ``(ii) within the capabilities of the staff + and facilities available at the hospital, such + further medical examination and treatment as are + required under section 1867 of such Act to + stabilize the patient. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 890]] + + ``(C) Stabilize.--The term `to stabilize', with + respect to an emergency medical condition (as defined in + subparagraph (A)), has the meaning give in section + 1867(e)(3) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395dd(e)(3)). + + ``(c) Access to Pediatric Care.-- + ``(1) Pediatric care.--In the case of a person who has a + child who is a participant, beneficiary, or enrollee under a + group health plan, or health insurance coverage offered by a + health insurance issuer in the group or individual market, if + the plan or issuer requires or provides for the designation of a + participating primary care provider for the child, the plan or + issuer shall permit such person to designate a physician + (allopathic or osteopathic) who specializes in pediatrics as the + child's primary care provider if such provider participates in + the network of the plan or issuer. + ``(2) Construction.--Nothing in paragraph (1) shall be + construed to waive any exclusions of coverage under the terms + and conditions of the plan or health insurance coverage with + respect to coverage of pediatric care. + + ``(d) Patient Access to Obstetrical and Gynecological Care.-- + ``(1) General rights.-- + ``(A) Direct access.--A group health plan, or health + insurance issuer offering group or individual health + insurance coverage, described in paragraph (2) may not + require authorization or referral by the plan, issuer, + or any person (including a primary care provider + described in paragraph (2)(B)) in the case of a female + participant, beneficiary, or enrollee who seeks coverage + for obstetrical or gynecological care provided by a + participating health care professional who specializes + in obstetrics or gynecology. Such professional shall + agree to otherwise adhere to such plan's or issuer's + policies and procedures, including procedures regarding + referrals and obtaining prior authorization and + providing services pursuant to a treatment plan (if any) + approved by the plan or issuer. + ``(B) Obstetrical and gynecological care.--A group + health plan or health insurance issuer described in + paragraph (2) shall treat the provision of obstetrical + and gynecological care, and the ordering of related + obstetrical and gynecological items and services, + pursuant to the direct access described under + subparagraph (A), by a participating health care + professional who specializes in obstetrics or gynecology + as the authorization of the primary care provider. + ``(2) Application of paragraph.--A group health plan, or + health insurance issuer offering group or individual health + insurance coverage, described in this paragraph is a group + health plan or coverage that-- + ``(A) provides coverage for obstetric or gynecologic + care; and + ``(B) requires the designation by a participant, + beneficiary, or enrollee of a participating primary care + provider. + ``(3) Construction.--Nothing in paragraph (1) shall be + construed to-- + ``(A) waive any exclusions of coverage under the + terms and conditions of the plan or health insurance + coverage + +[[Page 124 STAT. 891]] + + with respect to coverage of obstetrical or gynecological + care; or + ``(B) preclude the group health plan or health + insurance issuer involved from requiring that the + obstetrical or gynecological provider notify the primary + care health care professional or the plan or issuer of + treatment decisions.''. + + (i) Section 2794 of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 1003 of this Act, <> is amended-- + (1) in subsection (c)(1)-- + (A) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (B) in subparagraph (B), by striking the period and + inserting ``; and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(C) in establishing centers (consistent with + subsection (d)) at academic or other nonprofit + institutions to collect medical reimbursement + information from health insurance issuers, to analyze + and organize such information, and to make such + information available to such issuers, health care + providers, health researchers, health care policy + makers, and the general public.''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(d) Medical Reimbursement Data Centers.-- + ``(1) Functions.--A center established under subsection + (c)(1)(C) shall-- + ``(A) develop fee schedules and other database tools + that fairly and accurately reflect market rates for + medical services and the geographic differences in those + rates; + ``(B) use the best available statistical methods and + data processing technology to develop such fee schedules + and other database tools; + ``(C) regularly update such fee schedules and other + database tools to reflect changes in charges for medical + services; + ``(D) <> + make health care cost information readily available to + the public through an Internet website that allows + consumers to understand the amounts that health care + providers in their area charge for particular medical + services; and + ``(E) <> regularly publish + information concerning the statistical methodologies + used by the center to analyze health charge data and + make such data available to researchers and policy + makers. + ``(2) <> Conflicts of interest.--A center + established under subsection (c)(1)(C) shall adopt by-laws that + ensures that the center (and all members of the governing board + of the center) is independent and free from all conflicts of + interest. Such by-laws shall ensure that the center is not + controlled or influenced by, and does not have any corporate + relation to, any individual or entity that may make or receive + payments for health care services based on the center's analysis + of health care costs. + ``(3) Rule of construction.--Nothing in this subsection + shall be construed to permit a center established under + subsection (c)(1)(C) to compel health insurance issuers to + provide data to the center.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 892]] + +SEC. 10102. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE B. + + (a) <> Section 1102(a)(2)(B) of this Act is +amended-- + (1) in the matter preceding clause (i), by striking ``group + health benefits plan'' and inserting ``group benefits plan + providing health benefits''; and + (2) in clause (i)(I), by inserting ``or any agency or + instrumentality of any of the foregoing'' before the closed + parenthetical. + + (b) <> Section 1103(a) of this Act is +amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1), by inserting ``, or small business + in,'' after ``residents of any''; and + (2) by striking paragraph (2) and inserting the following: + ``(2) Connecting to affordable coverage.--An Internet + website established under paragraph (1) shall, to the extent + practicable, provide ways for residents of, and small businesses + in, any State to receive information on at least the following + coverage options: + ``(A) Health insurance coverage offered by health + insurance issuers, other than coverage that provides + reimbursement only for the treatment or mitigation of-- + ``(i) a single disease or condition; or + ``(ii) an unreasonably limited set of diseases + or conditions (as determined by the Secretary). + ``(B) Medicaid coverage under title XIX of the + Social Security Act. + ``(C) Coverage under title XXI of the Social + Security Act. + ``(D) A State health benefits high risk pool, to the + extent that such high risk pool is offered in such + State; and + ``(E) Coverage under a high risk pool under section + 1101. + ``(F) Coverage within the small group market for + small businesses and their employees, including + reinsurance for early retirees under section 1102, tax + credits available under section 45R of the Internal + Revenue Code of 1986 (as added by section 1421), and + other information specifically for small businesses + regarding affordable health care options.''. + +SEC. 10103. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE C. + + (a) Section 2701(a)(5) of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 1201(4) of this Act, <> is amended by +inserting ``(other than self-insured group health plans offered in such +market)'' after ``such market''. + + (b) Section 2708 of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 1201(4) of this Act, <> is amended by +striking ``or individual''. + + (c) Subpart I of part A of title XXVII of the Public Health Service +Act, as added by section 1201(4) of this Act, is amended by inserting +after section 2708, the following: + +``SEC. 2709. <> COVERAGE FOR INDIVIDUALS + PARTICIPATING IN APPROVED CLINICAL TRIALS. + + ``(a) Coverage.-- + ``(1) In general.--If a group health plan or a health + insurance issuer offering group or individual health insurance + coverage provides coverage to a qualified individual, then such + plan or issuer-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 893]] + + ``(A) may not deny the individual participation in + the clinical trial referred to in subsection (b)(2); + ``(B) subject to subsection (c), may not deny (or + limit or impose additional conditions on) the coverage + of routine patient costs for items and services + furnished in connection with participation in the trial; + and + ``(C) may not discriminate against the individual on + the basis of the individual's participation in such + trial. + ``(2) Routine patient costs.-- + ``(A) Inclusion.--For purposes of paragraph (1)(B), + subject to subparagraph (B), routine patient costs + include all items and services consistent with the + coverage provided in the plan (or coverage) that is + typically covered for a qualified individual who is not + enrolled in a clinical trial. + ``(B) Exclusion.--For purposes of paragraph (1)(B), + routine patient costs does not include-- + ``(i) the investigational item, device, or + service, itself; + ``(ii) items and services that are provided + solely to satisfy data collection and analysis + needs and that are not used in the direct clinical + management of the patient; or + ``(iii) a service that is clearly inconsistent + with widely accepted and established standards of + care for a particular diagnosis. + ``(3) Use of in-network providers.--If one or more + participating providers is participating in a clinical trial, + nothing in paragraph (1) shall be construed as preventing a plan + or issuer from requiring that a qualified individual participate + in the trial through such a participating provider if the + provider will accept the individual as a participant in the + trial. + ``(4) <> Use of out-of-network.-- + Notwithstanding paragraph (3), paragraph (1) shall apply to a + qualified individual participating in an approved clinical trial + that is conducted outside the State in which the qualified + individual resides. + + ``(b) Qualified Individual Defined.--For purposes of subsection (a), +the term `qualified individual' means an individual who is a participant +or beneficiary in a health plan or with coverage described in subsection +(a)(1) and who meets the following conditions: + ``(1) The individual is eligible to participate in an + approved clinical trial according to the trial protocol with + respect to treatment of cancer or other life-threatening disease + or condition. + ``(2) Either-- + ``(A) the referring health care professional is a + participating health care provider and has concluded + that the individual's participation in such trial would + be appropriate based upon the individual meeting the + conditions described in paragraph (1); or + ``(B) the participant or beneficiary provides + medical and scientific information establishing that the + individual's participation in such trial would be + appropriate based upon the individual meeting the + conditions described in paragraph (1). + + ``(c) Limitations on Coverage.--This section shall not be construed +to require a group health plan, or a health insurance issuer + +[[Page 124 STAT. 894]] + +offering group or individual health insurance coverage, to provide +benefits for routine patient care services provided outside of the +plan's (or coverage's) health care provider network unless out-of- +network benefits are otherwise provided under the plan (or coverage). + ``(d) Approved Clinical Trial Defined.-- + ``(1) In general.--In this section, the term `approved + clinical trial' means a phase I, phase II, phase III, or phase + IV clinical trial that is conducted in relation to the + prevention, detection, or treatment of cancer or other life- + threatening disease or condition and is described in any of the + following subparagraphs: + ``(A) Federally funded trials.--The study or + investigation is approved or funded (which may include + funding through in-kind contributions) by one or more of + the following: + ``(i) The National Institutes of Health. + ``(ii) The Centers for Disease Control and + Prevention. + ``(iii) The Agency for Health Care Research + and Quality. + ``(iv) The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid + Services. + ``(v) cooperative group or center of any of + the entities described in clauses (i) through (iv) + or the Department of Defense or the Department of + Veterans Affairs. + ``(vi) A qualified non-governmental research + entity identified in the guidelines issued by the + National Institutes of Health for center support + grants. + ``(vii) Any of the following if the conditions + described in paragraph (2) are met: + ``(I) The Department of Veterans + Affairs. + ``(II) The Department of Defense. + ``(III) The Department of Energy. + ``(B) The study or investigation is conducted under + an investigational new drug application reviewed by the + Food and Drug Administration. + ``(C) The study or investigation is a drug trial + that is exempt from having such an investigational new + drug application. + ``(2) <> Conditions for + departments.--The conditions described in this paragraph, for a + study or investigation conducted by a Department, are that the + study or investigation has been reviewed and approved through a + system of peer review that the Secretary determines-- + ``(A) to be comparable to the system of peer review + of studies and investigations used by the National + Institutes of Health, and + ``(B) assures unbiased review of the highest + scientific standards by qualified individuals who have + no interest in the outcome of the review. + + ``(e) Life-threatening Condition Defined.--In this section, the term +`life-threatening condition' means any disease or condition from which +the likelihood of death is probable unless the course of the disease or +condition is interrupted. + ``(f) Construction.--Nothing in this section shall be construed to +limit a plan's or issuer's coverage with respect to clinical trials. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 895]] + + ``(g) Application to FEHBP.--Notwithstanding any provision of +chapter 89 of title 5, United States Code, this section shall apply to +health plans offered under the program under such chapter. + ``(h) Preemption.--Notwithstanding any other provision of this Act, +nothing in this section shall preempt State laws that require a clinical +trials policy for State regulated health insurance plans that is in +addition to the policy required under this section.''. + (d) <> Section 1251(a) of this Act is +amended-- + (1) in paragraph (2), by striking ``With'' and inserting + ``Except as provided in paragraph (3), with''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + ``(3) Application of certain provisions.--The provisions of + sections 2715 and 2718 of the Public Health Service Act (as + added by subtitle A) shall apply to grandfathered health plans + for plan years beginning on or after the date of enactment of + this Act.''. + + (e) <> Section 1253 of +this Act is amended insert before the period the following: ``, except +that-- + ``(1) section 1251 shall take effect on the date of + enactment of this Act; and + ``(2) the provisions of section 2704 of the Public Health + Service Act (as amended by section 1201), as they apply to + enrollees who are under 19 years of age, shall become effective + for plan years beginning on or after the date that is 6 months + after the date of enactment of this Act.''. + + (f) Subtitle C of title I of this Act is amended-- + (1) by redesignating section 1253 as section 1255; and + (2) by inserting after section 1252, the following: + +``SEC. 1253. <> ANNUAL REPORT ON SELF-INSURED + PLANS. + + ``Not later than 1 year after the date of enactment of this Act, and +annually thereafter, the Secretary of Labor shall prepare an aggregate +annual report, using data collected from the Annual Return/Report of +Employee Benefit Plan (Department of Labor Form 5500), that shall +include general information on self-insured group health plans +(including plan type, number of participants, benefits offered, funding +arrangements, and benefit arrangements) as well as data from the +financial filings of self-insured employers (including information on +assets, liabilities, contributions, investments, and expenses). The +Secretary shall submit such reports to the appropriate committees of +Congress. + +``SEC. 1254. STUDY OF LARGE GROUP MARKET. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services shall +conduct a study of the fully-insured and self-insured group health plan +markets to-- + ``(1) compare the characteristics of employers (including + industry, size, and other characteristics as determined + appropriate by the Secretary), health plan benefits, financial + solvency, capital reserve levels, and the risks of becoming + insolvent; and + ``(2) determine the extent to which new insurance market + reforms are likely to cause adverse selection in the large group + market or to encourage small and midsize employers to self- + insure. + + ``(b) Collection of Information.--In conducting the study under +subsection (a), the Secretary, in coordination with the Secretary of +Labor, shall collect information and analyze-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 896]] + + ``(1) the extent to which self-insured group health plans + can offer less costly coverage and, if so, whether lower costs + are due to more efficient plan administration and lower overhead + or to the denial of claims and the offering very limited benefit + packages; + ``(2) claim denial rates, plan benefit fluctuations (to + evaluate the extent that plans scale back health benefits during + economic downturns), and the impact of the limited recourse + options on consumers; and + ``(3) any potential conflict of interest as it relates to + the health care needs of self-insured enrollees and self-insured + employer's financial contribution or profit margin, and the + impact of such conflict on administration of the health plan. + + ``(c) Report.--Not later than 1 year after the date of enactment of +this Act, the Secretary shall submit to the appropriate committees of +Congress a report concerning the results of the study conducted under +subsection (a).''. + +SEC. 10104. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE D. + + (a) <> Section 1301(a) of this Act is amended +by striking paragraph (2) and inserting the following: + ``(2) Inclusion of co-op plans and multi-state qualified + health plans.--Any reference in this title to a qualified health + plan shall be deemed to include a qualified health plan offered + through the CO-OP program under section 1322, and a multi-State + plan under section 1334, unless specifically provided for + otherwise. + ``(3) Treatment of qualified direct primary care medical + home plans.--The Secretary <> of Health and + Human Services shall permit a qualified health plan to provide + coverage through a qualified direct primary care medical home + plan that meets criteria established by the Secretary, so long + as the qualified health plan meets all requirements that are + otherwise applicable and the services covered by the medical + home plan are coordinated with the entity offering the qualified + health plan. + ``(4) Variation based on rating area.--A qualified health + plan, including a multi-State qualified health plan, may as + appropriate vary premiums by rating area (as defined in section + 2701(a)(2) of the Public Health Service Act).''. + + (b) <> Section 1302 of this Act is amended-- + (1) in subsection (d)(2)(B), by striking ``may issue'' and + inserting ``shall issue''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(g) Payments to Federally-qualified Health Centers.--If any item +or service covered by a qualified health plan is provided by a +Federally-qualified health center (as defined in section 1905(l)(2)(B) +of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(l)(2)(B)) to an enrollee of +the plan, the offeror of the plan shall pay to the center for the item +or service an amount that is not less than the amount of payment that +would have been paid to the center under section 1902(bb) of such Act +(42 U.S.C. 1396a(bb)) for such item or service.''. + (c) Section 1303 of this Act is amended to read as follows: + +``SEC. 1303. <> SPECIAL RULES. + + ``(a) State Opt-out of Abortion Coverage.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 897]] + + ``(1) In general.--A State may elect to prohibit abortion + coverage in qualified health plans offered through an Exchange + in such State if such State enacts a law to provide for such + prohibition. + ``(2) Termination of opt out.--A State may repeal a law + described in paragraph (1) and provide for the offering of such + services through the Exchange. + + ``(b) Special Rules Relating to Coverage of Abortion Services.-- + ``(1) Voluntary choice of coverage of abortion services.-- + ``(A) In general.--Notwithstanding any other + provision of this title (or any amendment made by this + title)-- + ``(i) nothing in this title (or any amendment + made by this title), shall be construed to require + a qualified health plan to provide coverage of + services described in subparagraph (B)(i) or + (B)(ii) as part of its essential health benefits + for any plan year; and + ``(ii) subject to subsection (a), the issuer + of a qualified health plan shall determine whether + or not the plan provides coverage of services + described in subparagraph (B)(i) or (B)(ii) as + part of such benefits for the plan year. + ``(B) Abortion services.-- + ``(i) Abortions for which public funding is + prohibited.--The services described in this clause + are abortions for which the expenditure of Federal + funds appropriated for the Department of Health + and Human Services is not permitted, based on the + law as in effect as of the date that is 6 months + before the beginning of the plan year involved. + ``(ii) Abortions for which public funding is + allowed.--The services described in this clause + are abortions for which the expenditure of Federal + funds appropriated for the Department of Health + and Human Services is permitted, based on the law + as in effect as of the date that is 6 months + before the beginning of the plan year involved. + ``(2) Prohibition on the use of federal funds.-- + ``(A) In general.--If a qualified health plan + provides coverage of services described in paragraph + (1)(B)(i), the issuer of the plan shall not use any + amount attributable to any of the following for purposes + of paying for such services: + ``(i) The credit under section 36B of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 (and the amount (if + any) of the advance payment of the credit under + section 1412 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act). + ``(ii) Any cost-sharing reduction under + section 1402 of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act (and the amount (if any) of + the advance payment of the reduction under section + 1412 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act). + ``(B) Establishment of allocation accounts.--In the + case of a plan to which subparagraph (A) applies, the + issuer of the plan shall-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 898]] + + ``(i) collect from each enrollee in the plan + (without regard to the enrollee's age, sex, or + family status) a separate payment for each of the + following: + ``(I) an amount equal to the portion + of the premium to be paid directly by + the enrollee for coverage under the plan + of services other than services + described in paragraph (1)(B)(i) (after + reduction for credits and cost-sharing + reductions described in subparagraph + (A)); and + ``(II) an amount equal to the + actuarial value of the coverage of + services described in paragraph + (1)(B)(i), and + ``(ii) shall deposit all such separate + payments into separate allocation accounts as + provided in subparagraph (C). + In the case of an enrollee whose premium for coverage + under the plan is paid through employee payroll deposit, + the separate payments required under this subparagraph + shall each be paid by a separate deposit. + ``(C) Segregation of funds.-- + ``(i) In general.--The issuer of a plan to + which subparagraph (A) applies shall establish + allocation accounts described in clause (ii) for + enrollees receiving amounts described in + subparagraph (A). + ``(ii) Allocation accounts.--The issuer of a + plan to which subparagraph (A) applies shall + deposit-- + ``(I) all payments described in + subparagraph (B)(i)(I) into a separate + account that consists solely of such + payments and that is used exclusively to + pay for services other than services + described in paragraph (1)(B)(i); and + ``(II) all payments described in + subparagraph (B)(i)(II) into a separate + account that consists solely of such + payments and that is used exclusively to + pay for services described in paragraph + (1)(B)(i). + ``(D) Actuarial value.-- + ``(i) In general.--The issuer of a qualified + health plan shall estimate the basic per enrollee, + per month cost, determined on an average actuarial + basis, for including coverage under the qualified + health plan of the services described in paragraph + (1)(B)(i). + ``(ii) Considerations.--In making such + estimate, the issuer-- + ``(I) may take into account the + impact on overall costs of the inclusion + of such coverage, but may not take into + account any cost reduction estimated to + result from such services, including + prenatal care, delivery, or postnatal + care; + ``(II) shall estimate such costs as + if such coverage were included for the + entire population covered; and + ``(III) may not estimate such a cost + at less than $1 per enrollee, per month. + ``(E) Ensuring compliance with segregation + requirements.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 899]] + + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), + State health insurance commissioners shall ensure + that health plans comply with the segregation + requirements in this subsection through the + segregation of plan funds in accordance with + applicable provisions of generally accepted + accounting requirements, circulars on funds + management of the Office of Management and Budget, + and guidance on accounting of the Government + Accountability Office. + ``(ii) Clarification.--Nothing in clause (i) + shall prohibit the right of an individual or + health plan to appeal such action in courts of + competent jurisdiction. + ``(3) Rules relating to notice.-- + ``(A) Notice.--A qualified health plan that provides + for coverage of the services described in paragraph + (1)(B)(i) shall provide a notice to enrollees, only as + part of the summary of benefits and coverage + explanation, at the time of enrollment, of such + coverage. + ``(B) Rules relating to payments.--The notice + described in subparagraph (A), any advertising used by + the issuer with respect to the plan, any information + provided by the Exchange, and any other information + specified by the Secretary shall provide information + only with respect to the total amount of the combined + payments for services described in paragraph (1)(B)(i) + and other services covered by the plan. + ``(4) No discrimination on basis of provision of abortion.-- + No qualified health plan offered through an Exchange may + discriminate against any individual health care provider or + health care facility because of its unwillingness to provide, + pay for, provide coverage of, or refer for abortions + + ``(c) Application of State and Federal Laws Regarding Abortion.-- + ``(1) No preemption of state laws regarding abortion.-- + Nothing in this Act shall be construed to preempt or otherwise + have any effect on State laws regarding the prohibition of (or + requirement of) coverage, funding, or procedural requirements on + abortions, including parental notification or consent for the + performance of an abortion on a minor. + ``(2) No effect on federal laws regarding abortion.-- + ``(A) In general.--Nothing in this Act shall be + construed to have any effect on Federal laws regarding-- + ``(i) conscience protection; + ``(ii) willingness or refusal to provide + abortion; and + ``(iii) discrimination on the basis of the + willingness or refusal to provide, pay for, cover, + or refer for abortion or to provide or participate + in training to provide abortion. + ``(3) No effect on federal civil rights law.--Nothing in + this subsection shall alter the rights and obligations of + employees and employers under title VII of the Civil Rights Act + of 1964. + + ``(d) Application of Emergency Services Laws.--Nothing in this Act +shall be construed to relieve any health care provider from providing +emergency services as required by State or Federal law, including +section 1867 of the Social Security Act (popularly known as +`EMTALA').''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 900]] + + (d) <> Section 1304 of this Act is amended by +adding at the end the following: + + ``(e) <> Educated Health Care Consumers.--The +term `educated health care consumer' means an individual who is +knowledgeable about the health care system, and has background or +experience in making informed decisions regarding health, medical, and +scientific matters.''. + + (e) <> Section 1311(d) of this Act is +amended-- + (1) in paragraph (3)(B), by striking clause (ii) and + inserting the following: + ``(ii) State must assume cost.--A State shall + make payments-- + ``(I) to an individual enrolled in a + qualified health plan offered in such + State; or + ``(II) on behalf of an individual + described in subclause (I) directly to + the qualified health plan in which such + individual is enrolled; + to defray the cost of any additional benefits + described in clause (i).''; and + (2) in paragraph (6)(A), by inserting ``educated'' before + ``health care''. + + (f) Section 1311(e) of this Act is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (2), by striking ``may'' in the second + sentence and inserting ``shall''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + ``(3) Transparency in coverage.-- + ``(A) <> In general.-- + The Exchange shall require health plans seeking + certification as qualified health plans to submit to the + Exchange, the Secretary, the State insurance + commissioner, and make available to the public, accurate + and timely disclosure of the following information: + ``(i) Claims payment policies and practices. + ``(ii) Periodic financial disclosures. + ``(iii) Data on enrollment. + ``(iv) Data on disenrollment. + ``(v) Data on the number of claims that are + denied. + ``(vi) Data on rating practices. + ``(vii) Information on cost-sharing and + payments with respect to any out-of-network + coverage. + ``(viii) Information on enrollee and + participant rights under this title. + ``(ix) Other information as determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(B) Use of plain language.--The information + required to be submitted under subparagraph (A) shall be + provided in plain language. <> The + term `plain language' means language that the intended + audience, including individuals with limited English + proficiency, can readily understand and use because that + language is concise, well-organized, and follows other + best practices of plain language + writing. <> The Secretary and the + Secretary of Labor shall jointly develop and issue + guidance on best practices of plain language writing. + ``(C) Cost sharing transparency.--The Exchange shall + require health plans seeking certification as qualified + health plans to permit individuals to learn the amount + of cost-sharing (including deductibles, copayments, and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 901]] + + coinsurance) under the individual's plan or coverage + that the individual would be responsible for paying with + respect to the furnishing of a specific item or service + by a participating provider in a timely manner upon the + request of the individual. <> At a + minimum, such information shall be made available to + such individual through an Internet website and such + other means for individuals without access to the + Internet. + ``(D) Group health plans.--The Secretary of Labor + shall update and harmonize the Secretary's rules + concerning the accurate and timely disclosure to + participants by group health plans of plan disclosure, + plan terms and conditions, and periodic financial + disclosure with the standards established by the + Secretary under subparagraph (A).''. + + (g) <> Section 1311(g)(1) of this Act is +amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (C), by striking ``; and'' and inserting + a semicolon; + (2) in subparagraph (D), by striking the period and + inserting ``; and''; and + (3) by adding at the end the following: + ``(E) the implementation of activities to reduce + health and health care disparities, including through + the use of language services, community outreach, and + cultural competency trainings.''. + + (h) Section 1311(i)(2)((B) of this Act is amended by striking +``small business development centers'' and inserting ``resource partners +of the Small Business Administration''. + (i) <> Section 1312 of this Act is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a)(1), by inserting ``and for which such + individual is eligible'' before the period; + (2) in subsection (e)-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by inserting ``and employers'' + after ``enroll individuals''; and + (B) by striking the flush sentence at the end; and + (3) in subsection (f)(1)(A)(ii), by striking the + parenthetical. + + (j)(1) Subparagraph (B) of section 1313(a)(6) <> of this Act is hereby deemed null, void, and of no effect. + + (2) Section 3730(e) of title 31, United States Code, is amended by +striking paragraph (4) and inserting the following: + ``(4)(A) <> The court shall dismiss an + action or claim under this section, unless opposed by the + Government, if substantially the same allegations or + transactions as alleged in the action or claim were publicly + disclosed-- + ``(i) in a Federal criminal, civil, or + administrative hearing in which the Government or its + agent is a party; + ``(ii) in a congressional, Government Accountability + Office, or other Federal report, hearing, audit, or + investigation; or + ``(iii) from the news media, + unless the action is brought by the Attorney General or the + person bringing the action is an original source of the + information. + ``(B) <> For purposes of this paragraph, + ``original source'' means an individual who either (i) prior to + a public disclosure under subsection (e)(4)(a), has voluntarily + disclosed to the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 902]] + + Government the information on which allegations or transactions + in a claim are based, or (2) who has knowledge that is + independent of and materially adds to the publicly disclosed + allegations or transactions, and who has voluntarily provided + the information to the Government before filing an action under + this section.''. + + (k) <> Section 1313(b) of this Act is +amended-- + (1) in paragraph (3), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) by redesignating paragraph (4) as paragraph (5); and + (3) by inserting after paragraph (3) the following: + ``(4) a survey of the cost and affordability of health care + insurance provided under the Exchanges for owners and employees + of small business concerns (as defined under section 3 of the + Small Business Act (15 U.S.C. 632)), including data on enrollees + in Exchanges and individuals purchasing health insurance + coverage outside of Exchanges; and''. + + (l) <> Section 1322(b) of this Act is +amended-- + (1) by redesignating paragraph (3) as paragraph (4); and + (2) by inserting after paragraph (2), the following: + ``(3) <> Repayment of loans + and grants.--Not later than July 1, 2013, and prior to awarding + loans and grants under the CO-OP program, the Secretary shall + promulgate regulations with respect to the repayment of such + loans and grants in a manner that is consistent with State + solvency regulations and other similar State laws that may + apply. In promulgating such regulations, the Secretary shall + provide that such loans shall be repaid within 5 years and such + grants shall be repaid within 15 years, taking into + consideration any appropriate State reserve requirements, + solvency regulations, and requisite surplus note arrangements + that must be constructed in a State to provide for such + repayment prior to awarding such loans and grants.''. + + (m) <> Part III of subtitle D of title I of +this Act is amended by striking section 1323. + + (n) <> Section 1324(a) of this Act is amended +by striking ``, a community health'' and all that follows through +``1333(b)'' and inserting ``, or a multi-State qualified health plan +under section 1334''. + + (o) <> Section 1331 of this Act is amended-- + (1) in subsection (d)(3)(A)(i), by striking ``85'' and + inserting ``95''; and + (2) in subsection (e)(1)(B), by inserting before the + semicolon the following: ``, or, in the case of an alien + lawfully present in the United States, whose income is not + greater than 133 percent of the poverty line for the size of the + family involved but who is not eligible for the Medicaid program + under title XIX of the Social Security Act by reason of such + alien status''. + + (p) <> Section 1333 of this Act is amended by +striking subsection (b). + + (q) Part IV of subtitle D of title I of this Act is amended by +adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 1334. <> MULTI-STATE PLANS. + + ``(a) Oversight by the Office of Personnel Management.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Director of the Office of Personnel + Management (referred to in this section as the `Director') shall + enter into contracts with health insurance issuers (which may + +[[Page 124 STAT. 903]] + + include a group of health insurance issuers affiliated either by + common ownership and control or by the common use of a + nationally licensed service mark), without regard to section 5 + of title 41, United States Code, or other statutes requiring + competitive bidding, to offer at least 2 multi-State qualified + health plans through each Exchange in each State. Such plans + shall provide individual, or in the case of small employers, + group coverage. + ``(2) Terms.--Each contract entered into under paragraph (1) + shall be for a uniform term of at least 1 year, but may be made + automatically renewable from term to term in the absence of + notice of termination by either party. In entering into such + contracts, the Director shall ensure that health benefits + coverage is provided in accordance with the types of coverage + provided for under section 2701(a)(1)(A)(i) of the Public Health + Service Act. + ``(3) Non-profit entities.--In entering into contracts under + paragraph (1), the Director shall ensure that at least one + contract is entered into with a non-profit entity. + ``(4) Administration.--The Director shall implement this + subsection in a manner similar to the manner in which the + Director implements the contracting provisions with respect to + carriers under the Federal employees health benefit program + under chapter 89 of title 5, United States Code, including + (through negotiating with each multi-state plan)-- + ``(A) a medical loss ratio; + ``(B) a profit margin; + ``(C) the premiums to be charged; and + ``(D) such other terms and conditions of coverage as + are in the interests of enrollees in such plans. + ``(5) Authority to protect consumers.--The Director may + prohibit the offering of any multi-State health plan that does + not meet the terms and conditions defined by the Director with + respect to the elements described in subparagraphs (A) through + (D) of paragraph (4). + ``(6) Assured availability of varied coverage.--In entering + into contracts under this subsection, the Director shall ensure + that with respect to multi-State qualified health plans offered + in an Exchange, there is at least one such plan that does not + provide coverage of services described in section + 1303(b)(1)(B)(i). + ``(7) Withdrawal.--Approval of a contract under this + subsection may be withdrawn by the Director only after notice + and opportunity for hearing to the issuer concerned without + regard to subchapter II of chapter 5 and chapter 7 of title 5, + United States Code. + + ``(b) Eligibility.--A health insurance issuer shall be eligible to +enter into a contract under subsection (a)(1) if such issuer-- + ``(1) agrees to offer a multi-State qualified health plan + that meets the requirements of subsection (c) in each Exchange + in each State; + ``(2) is licensed in each State and is subject to all + requirements of State law not inconsistent with this section, + including the standards and requirements that a State imposes + that do not prevent the application of a requirement of part A + of title XXVII of the Public Health Service Act or a requirement + of this title; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 904]] + + ``(3) otherwise complies with the minimum standards + prescribed for carriers offering health benefits plans under + section 8902(e) of title 5, United States Code, to the extent + that such standards do not conflict with a provision of this + title; and + ``(4) meets such other requirements as determined + appropriate by the Director, in consultation with the Secretary. + + ``(c) Requirements for Multi-State Qualified Health Plan.-- + ``(1) In general.--A multi-State qualified health plan meets + the requirements of this subsection if, in the determination of + the Director-- + ``(A) the plan offers a benefits package that is + uniform in each State and consists of the essential + benefits described in section 1302; + ``(B) the plan meets all requirements of this title + with respect to a qualified health plan, including + requirements relating to the offering of the bronze, + silver, and gold levels of coverage and catastrophic + coverage in each State Exchange; + ``(C) except as provided in paragraph (5), the + issuer provides for determinations of premiums for + coverage under the plan on the basis of the rating + requirements of part A of title XXVII of the Public + Health Service Act; and + ``(D) the issuer offers the plan in all geographic + regions, and in all States that have adopted adjusted + community rating before the date of enactment of this + Act. + ``(2) States may offer additional benefits.--Nothing in + paragraph (1)(A) shall preclude a State from requiring that + benefits in addition to the essential health benefits required + under such paragraph be provided to enrollees of a multi-State + qualified health plan offered in such State. + ``(3) Credits.-- + ``(A) In general.--An individual enrolled in a + multi-State qualified health plan under this section + shall be eligible for credits under section 36B of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 and cost sharing + assistance under section 1402 in the same manner as an + individual who is enrolled in a qualified health plan. + ``(B) No additional federal cost.--A requirement by + a State under paragraph (2) that benefits in addition to + the essential health benefits required under paragraph + (1)(A) be provided to enrollees of a multi-State + qualified health plan shall not affect the amount of a + premium tax credit provided under section 36B of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986 with respect to such plan. + ``(4) State must assume cost.--A State shall make payments-- + ``(A) to an individual enrolled in a multi-State + qualified health plan offered in such State; or + ``(B) on behalf of an individual described in + subparagraph (A) directly to the multi-State qualified + health plan in which such individual is enrolled; + to defray the cost of any additional benefits described in + paragraph (2). + ``(5) Application of certain state rating requirements.-- + With respect to a multi-State qualified health plan that is + offered in a State with age rating requirements that + +[[Page 124 STAT. 905]] + + are lower than 3:1, the State may require that Exchanges + operating in such State only permit the offering of such multi- + State qualified health plans if such plans comply with the + State's more protective age rating requirements. + + ``(d) Plans Deemed To Be Certified.--A multi-State qualified health +plan that is offered under a contract under subsection (a) shall be +deemed to be certified by an Exchange for purposes of section +1311(d)(4)(A). + ``(e) <> Phase-in.--Notwithstanding paragraphs +(1) and (2) of subsection (b), the Director shall enter into a contract +with a health insurance issuer for the offering of a multi-State +qualified health plan under subsection (a) if-- + ``(1) with respect to the first year for which the issuer + offers such plan, such issuer offers the plan in at least 60 + percent of the States; + ``(2) with respect to the second such year, such issuer + offers the plan in at least 70 percent of the States; + ``(3) with respect to the third such year, such issuer + offers the plan in at least 85 percent of the States; and + ``(4) with respect to each subsequent year, such issuer + offers the plan in all States. + + ``(f) Applicability.--The requirements under chapter 89 of title 5, +United States Code, applicable to health benefits plans under such +chapter shall apply to multi-State qualified health plans provided for +under this section to the extent that such requirements do not conflict +with a provision of this title. + ``(g) Continued Support for FEHBP.-- + ``(1) Maintenance of effort.--Nothing in this section shall + be construed to permit the Director to allocate fewer financial + or personnel resources to the functions of the Office of + Personnel Management related to the administration of the + Federal Employees Health Benefit Program under chapter 89 of + title 5, United States Code. + ``(2) Separate risk pool.--Enrollees in multi-State + qualified health plans under this section shall be treated as a + separate risk pool apart from enrollees in the Federal Employees + Health Benefit Program under chapter 89 of title 5, United + States Code. + ``(3) Authority to establish separate entities.--The + Director may establish such separate units or offices within the + Office of Personnel Management as the Director determines to be + appropriate to ensure that the administration of multi-State + qualified health plans under this section does not interfere + with the effective administration of the Federal Employees + Health Benefit Program under chapter 89 of title 5, United + States Code. + ``(4) Effective oversight.--The Director may appoint such + additional personnel as may be necessary to enable the Director + to carry out activities under this section. + ``(5) Assurance of separate program.--In carrying out this + section, the Director shall ensure that the program under this + section is separate from the Federal Employees Health Benefit + Program under chapter 89 of title 5, United States Code. + Premiums paid for coverage under a multi-State qualified health + plan under this section shall not be considered to be Federal + funds for any purposes. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 906]] + + ``(6) FEHBP plans not required to participate.--Nothing in + this section shall require that a carrier offering coverage + under the Federal Employees Health Benefit Program under chapter + 89 of title 5, United States Code, also offer a multi-State + qualified health plan under this section. + + ``(h) <> Advisory Board.--The Director shall +establish an advisory board to provide recommendations on the activities +described in this section. A significant percentage of the members of +such board shall be comprised of enrollees in a multi-State qualified +health plan, or representatives of such enrollees. + + ``(i) Authorization of Appropriations.--There is authorized to be +appropriated, such sums as may be necessary to carry out this +section.''. + (r) <> Section 1341 of this Act is amended-- + (1) in the section heading, by striking ``and small group + markets'' and inserting ``market''; + (2) in subsection (b)(2)(B), by striking ``paragraph + (1)(A)'' and inserting ``paragraph (1)(B)''; and + (3) in subsection (c)(1)(A), by striking ``and small group + markets'' and inserting ``market''. + +SEC. 10105. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE E. + + (a) Section 36B(b)(3)(A)(ii) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, +as added by section 1401(a) of this Act, <> is +amended by striking ``is in excess of'' and inserting ``equals or +exceeds''. + + (b) Section 36B(c)(1)(A) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as +added by section 1401(a) of this Act, is amended by inserting ``equals +or'' before ``exceeds''. + (c) Section 36B(c)(2)(C)(iv) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, +as added by section 1401(a) of this Act, is amended by striking +``subsection (b)(3)(A)(ii)'' and inserting ``subsection +(b)(3)(A)(iii)''. + (d) <> Section 1401(d) of this Act is amended +by adding at the end the following: + ``(3) Section 6211(b)(4)(A) of the Internal Revenue Code of + 1986 is amended by inserting `36B,' after `36A,'.''. + + (e)(1) Subparagraph (B) of section 45R(d)(3) of the Internal Revenue +Code of 1986, as added by section 1421(a) <> of this +Act, is amended to read as follows: + ``(B) Dollar amount.--For purposes of paragraph + (1)(B) and subsection (c)(2)-- + ``(i) 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013.--The dollar + amount in effect under this paragraph for taxable + years beginning in 2010, 2011, 2012, or 2013 is + $25,000. + ``(ii) Subsequent years.--In the case of a + taxable year beginning in a calendar year after + 2013, the dollar amount in effect under this + paragraph shall be equal to $25,000, multiplied by + the cost-of-living adjustment under section + 1(f)(3) for the calendar year, determined by + substituting `calendar year 2012' for `calendar + year 1992' in subparagraph (B) thereof.''. + + (2) Subsection (g) of section 45R of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986, as added by section 1421(a) of this Act, is amended by striking +``2011'' both places it appears and inserting ``2010, 2011''. + (3) Section 280C(h) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as added +by section 1421(d)(1) of this Act, <> is amended by +striking ``2011'' and inserting ``2010, 2011''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 907]] + + (4) <> Section 1421(f) of this Act is +amended by striking ``2010'' both places it appears and inserting +``2009''. + + (5) <> The amendments made by this +subsection shall take effect as if included in the enactment of section +1421 of this Act. + + (f) Part I of subtitle E of title I of this Act is amended by adding +at the end of subpart B, the following: + +``SEC. 1416. STUDY OF GEOGRAPHIC VARIATION IN APPLICATION OF FPL. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary shall conduct a study to examine +the feasibility and implication of adjusting the application of the +Federal poverty level under this subtitle (and the amendments made by +this subtitle) for different geographic areas so as to reflect the +variations in cost-of-living among different areas within the United +States. <> If the Secretary determines that an +adjustment is feasible, the study should include a methodology to make +such an adjustment. <> Not +later than January 1, 2013, the Secretary shall submit to Congress a +report on such study and shall include such recommendations as the +Secretary determines appropriate. + + ``(b) Inclusion of Territories.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall ensure that the study + under subsection (a) covers the territories of the United States + and that special attention is paid to the disparity that exists + among poverty levels and the cost of living in such territories + and to the impact of such disparity on efforts to expand health + coverage and ensure health care. + ``(2) Territories defined.--In this subsection, the term + `territories of the United States' includes the Commonwealth of + Puerto Rico, the United States Virgin Islands, Guam, the + Northern Mariana Islands, and any other territory or possession + of the United States.''. + +SEC. 10106. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE F. + + (a) <> Section 1501(a)(2) of this Act is +amended to read as follows: + ``(2) Effects on the national economy and interstate + commerce.--The effects described in this paragraph are the + following: + ``(A) The requirement regulates activity that is + commercial and economic in nature: economic and + financial decisions about how and when health care is + paid for, and when health insurance is purchased. In the + absence of the requirement, some individuals would make + an economic and financial decision to forego health + insurance coverage and attempt to self-insure, which + increases financial risks to households and medical + providers. + ``(B) Health insurance and health care services are + a significant part of the national economy. National + health spending is projected to increase from + $2,500,000,000,000, or 17.6 percent of the economy, in + 2009 to $4,700,000,000,000 in 2019. Private health + insurance spending is projected to be $854,000,000,000 + in 2009, and pays for medical supplies, drugs, and + equipment that are shipped in interstate commerce. Since + most health insurance is sold by national or regional + health insurance companies, health insurance is sold in + interstate commerce and claims payments flow through + interstate commerce. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 908]] + + ``(C) The requirement, together with the other + provisions of this Act, will add millions of new + consumers to the health insurance market, increasing the + supply of, and demand for, health care services, and + will increase the number and share of Americans who are + insured. + ``(D) The requirement achieves near-universal + coverage by building upon and strengthening the private + employer-based health insurance system, which covers + 176,000,000 Americans nationwide. In Massachusetts, a + similar requirement has strengthened private employer- + based coverage: despite the economic downturn, the + number of workers offered employer-based coverage has + actually increased. + ``(E) The economy loses up to $207,000,000,000 a + year because of the poorer health and shorter lifespan + of the uninsured. By significantly reducing the number + of the uninsured, the requirement, together with the + other provisions of this Act, will significantly reduce + this economic cost. + ``(F) The cost of providing uncompensated care to + the uninsured was $43,000,000,000 in 2008. To pay for + this cost, health care providers pass on the cost to + private insurers, which pass on the cost to families. + This cost-shifting increases family premiums by on + average over $1,000 a year. By significantly reducing + the number of the uninsured, the requirement, together + with the other provisions of this Act, will lower health + insurance premiums. + ``(G) 62 percent of all personal bankruptcies are + caused in part by medical expenses. By significantly + increasing health insurance coverage, the requirement, + together with the other provisions of this Act, will + improve financial security for families. + ``(H) Under the Employee Retirement Income Security + Act of 1974 (29 U.S.C. 1001 et seq.), the Public Health + Service Act (42 U.S.C. 201 et seq.), and this Act, the + Federal Government has a significant role in regulating + health insurance. The requirement is an essential part + of this larger regulation of economic activity, and the + absence of the requirement would undercut Federal + regulation of the health insurance market. + ``(I) Under sections 2704 and 2705 of the Public + Health Service Act (as added by section 1201 of this + Act), if there were no requirement, many individuals + would wait to purchase health insurance until they + needed care. By significantly increasing health + insurance coverage, the requirement, together with the + other provisions of this Act, will minimize this adverse + selection and broaden the health insurance risk pool to + include healthy individuals, which will lower health + insurance premiums. The requirement is essential to + creating effective health insurance markets in which + improved health insurance products that are guaranteed + issue and do not exclude coverage of pre-existing + conditions can be sold. + ``(J) Administrative costs for private health + insurance, which were $90,000,000,000 in 2006, are 26 to + 30 percent of premiums in the current individual and + small group + +[[Page 124 STAT. 909]] + + markets. By significantly increasing health insurance + coverage and the size of purchasing pools, which will + increase economies of scale, the requirement, together + with the other provisions of this Act, will + significantly reduce administrative costs and lower + health insurance premiums. The requirement is essential + to creating effective health insurance markets that do + not require underwriting and eliminate its associated + administrative costs.''. + + (b)(1) Section 5000A(b)(1) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as +added by section 1501(b) of this Act, <> is +amended to read as follows: + ``(1) In general.--If a taxpayer who is an applicable + individual, or an applicable individual for whom the taxpayer is + liable under paragraph (3), fails to meet the requirement of + subsection (a) for 1 or more months, then, except as provided in + subsection (e), there is hereby imposed on the taxpayer a + penalty with respect to such failures in the amount determined + under subsection (c).''. + (2) Paragraphs (1) and (2) of section 5000A(c) of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as so added, are amended to read + as follows: + ``(1) In general.--The amount of the penalty imposed by this + section on any taxpayer for any taxable year with respect to + failures described in subsection (b)(1) shall be equal to the + lesser of-- + ``(A) the sum of the monthly penalty amounts + determined under paragraph (2) for months in the taxable + year during which 1 or more such failures occurred, or + ``(B) an amount equal to the national average + premium for qualified health plans which have a bronze + level of coverage, provide coverage for the applicable + family size involved, and are offered through Exchanges + for plan years beginning in the calendar year with or + within which the taxable year ends. + ``(2) Monthly penalty amounts.--For purposes of paragraph + (1)(A), the monthly penalty amount with respect to any taxpayer + for any month during which any failure described in subsection + (b)(1) occurred is an amount equal to \1/12\ of the greater of + the following amounts: + ``(A) Flat dollar amount.--An amount equal to the + lesser of-- + ``(i) the sum of the applicable dollar amounts + for all individuals with respect to whom such + failure occurred during such month, or + ``(ii) 300 percent of the applicable dollar + amount (determined without regard to paragraph + (3)(C)) for the calendar year with or within which + the taxable year ends. + ``(B) Percentage of income.--An amount equal to the + following percentage of the taxpayer's household income + for the taxable year: + ``(i) 0.5 percent for taxable years beginning + in 2014. + ``(ii) 1.0 percent for taxable years beginning + in 2015. + ``(iii) 2.0 percent for taxable years + beginning after 2015.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 910]] + + (3) Section 5000A(c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as +added by section 1501(b) of this Act, <> is +amended by striking ``$350'' and inserting ``$495''. + + (c) Section 5000A(d)(2)(A) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as +added by section 1501(b) of this Act, is amended to read as follows: + ``(A) Religious conscience exemption.--Such term + shall not include any individual for any month if such + individual has in effect an exemption under section + 1311(d)(4)(H) of the Patient Protection and Affordable + Care Act which certifies that such individual is-- + ``(i) a member of a recognized religious sect + or division thereof which is described in section + 1402(g)(1), and + ``(ii) an adherent of established tenets or + teachings of such sect or division as described in + such section.''. + + (d) Section 5000A(e)(1)(C) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as +added by section 1501(b) of this Act, is amended to read as follows: + ``(C) Special rules for individuals related to + employees.--For purposes of subparagraph (B)(i), if an + applicable individual is eligible for minimum essential + coverage through an employer by reason of a relationship + to an employee, the determination under subparagraph (A) + shall be made by reference to required contribution of + the employee.''. + + (e) Section 4980H(b) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as added +by section 1513(a) of this Act, <> is amended to +read as follows: + + ``(b) Large Employers With Waiting Periods Exceeding 60 Days.-- + ``(1) In general.--In the case of any applicable large + employer which requires an extended waiting period to enroll in + any minimum essential coverage under an employer-sponsored plan + (as defined in section 5000A(f)(2)), there is hereby imposed on + the employer an assessable payment of $600 for each full-time + employee of the employer to whom the extended waiting period + applies. + ``(2) <> Extended waiting period.--The + term `extended waiting period' means any waiting period (as + defined in section 2701(b)(4) of the Public Health Service Act) + which exceeds 60 days.''. + + (f)(1) Subparagraph (A) of section 4980H(d)(4) of the Internal +Revenue Code of 1986, as added by section 1513(a) of this Act, is +amended by inserting ``, with respect to any month,'' after ``means''. + (2) Section 4980H(d)(2) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as +added by section 1513(a) of this Act, is amended by adding at the end +the following: + ``(D) Application to construction industry + employers.--In the case of any employer the substantial + annual gross receipts of which are attributable to the + construction industry-- + ``(i) subparagraph (A) shall be applied by + substituting `who employed an average of at least + 5 full-time employees on business days during the + preceding calendar year and whose annual payroll + expenses + +[[Page 124 STAT. 911]] + + exceed $250,000 for such preceding calendar year' + for `who employed an average of at least 50 full- + time employees on business days during the + preceding calendar year', and + ``(ii) subparagraph (B) shall be applied by + substituting `5' for `50'.''. + + (3) <> The amendment made +by paragraph (2) shall apply to months beginning after December 31, +2013. + + (g) Section 6056(b) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as added +by section 1514(a) of the Act, <> is amended by +adding at the end the following new flush sentence: + +``The Secretary shall have the authority to review the accuracy of the +information provided under this subsection, including the applicable +large employer's share under paragraph (2)(C)(iv).''. + +SEC. 10107. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE G. + + (a) Section 1562 of this Act <> is amended, +in the amendment made by subsection (a)(2)(B)(iii), by striking +``subpart 1'' and inserting ``subparts I and II''; and + + (b) Subtitle G of title I of this Act is amended-- + (1) <> by redesignating + section 1562 (as amended) as section 1563; and + (2) by inserting after section 1561 the following: + +``SEC. 1562. GAO STUDY REGARDING THE RATE OF DENIAL OF COVERAGE AND + ENROLLMENT BY HEALTH INSURANCE ISSUERS AND GROUP HEALTH + PLANS. + + ``(a) In General.--The Comptroller General of the United States +(referred to in this section as the `Comptroller General') shall conduct +a study of the incidence of denials of coverage for medical services and +denials of applications to enroll in health insurance plans, as +described in subsection (b), by group health plans and health insurance +issuers. + ``(b) Data.-- + ``(1) In general.--In conducting the study described in + subsection (a), the Comptroller General shall consider samples + of data concerning the following: + ``(A)(i) denials of coverage for medical services to + a plan enrollees, by the types of services for which + such coverage was denied; and + ``(ii) the reasons such coverage was denied; and + ``(B)(i) incidents in which group health plans and + health insurance issuers deny the application of an + individual to enroll in a health insurance plan offered + by such group health plan or issuer; and + ``(ii) the reasons such applications are denied. + ``(2) Scope of data.-- + ``(A) Favorably resolved disputes.--The data that + the Comptroller General considers under paragraph (1) + shall include data concerning denials of coverage for + medical services and denials of applications for + enrollment in a plan by a group health plan or health + insurance issuer, where such group health plan or health + insurance issuer later approves such coverage or + application. + ``(B) All health plans.--The study under this + section shall consider data from varied group health + plans and health insurance plans offered by health + insurance issuers, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 912]] + + including qualified health plans and health plans that + are not qualified health plans. + + ``(c) Report.--Not later than one year after the date of enactment +of this Act, the Comptroller General shall submit to the Secretaries of +Health and Human Services and Labor a report describing the results of +the study conducted under this section. + ``(d) <> Publication of +Report.--The Secretaries of Health and Human Services and Labor shall +make the report described in subsection (c) available to the public on +an Internet website. + +``SEC. 1563. <> SMALL BUSINESS PROCUREMENT. + + ``Part 19 of the Federal Acquisition Regulation, section 15 of the +Small Business Act (15 U.S.C. 644), and any other applicable laws or +regulations establishing procurement requirements relating to small +business concerns (as defined in section 3 of the Small Business Act (15 +U.S.C. 632)) may not be waived with respect to any contract awarded +under any program or other authority under this Act or an amendment made +by this Act.''. + +SEC. 10108. <> FREE CHOICE VOUCHERS. + + (a) In General.--An offering employer shall provide free choice +vouchers to each qualified employee of such employer. + (b) Offering Employer.--For purposes of this section, the term +``offering employer'' means any employer who-- + (1) offers minimum essential coverage to its employees + consisting of coverage through an eligible employer-sponsored + plan; and + (2) pays any portion of the costs of such plan. + + (c) Qualified Employee.--For purposes of this section-- + (1) <> In general.--The term ``qualified + employee'' means, with respect to any plan year of an offering + employer, any employee-- + (A) whose required contribution (as determined under + section 5000A(e)(1)(B)) for minimum essential coverage + through an eligible employer-sponsored plan-- + (i) exceeds 8 percent of such employee's + household income for the taxable year described in + section 1412(b)(1)(B) which ends with or within in + the plan year; and + (ii) does not exceed 9.8 percent of such + employee's household income for such taxable year; + (B) whose household income for such taxable year is + not greater than 400 percent of the poverty line for a + family of the size involved; and + (C) who does not participate in a health plan + offered by the offering employer. + (2) Indexing.--In the case of any calendar year beginning + after 2014, the Secretary shall adjust the 8 percent under + paragraph (1)(A)(i) and 9.8 percent under paragraph (1)(A)(ii) + for the calendar year to reflect the rate of premium growth + between the preceding calendar year and 2013 over the rate of + income growth for such period. + + (d) Free Choice Voucher.-- + (1) Amount.-- + (A) In general.--The amount of any free choice + voucher provided under subsection (a) shall be equal to + the monthly portion of the cost of the eligible + employer-sponsored plan which would have been paid by + the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 913]] + + employer if the employee were covered under the plan + with respect to which the employer pays the largest + portion of the cost of the plan. Such amount shall be + equal to the amount the employer would pay for an + employee with self-only coverage unless such employee + elects family coverage (in which case such amount shall + be the amount the employer would pay for family + coverage). + (B) <> Determination of cost.-- + The cost of any health plan shall be determined under + the rules similar to the rules of section 2204 of the + Public Health Service Act, except that such amount shall + be adjusted for age and category of enrollment in + accordance with regulations established by the + Secretary. + (2) Use of vouchers.--An Exchange shall credit the amount of + any free choice voucher provided under subsection (a) to the + monthly premium of any qualified health plan in the Exchange in + which the qualified employee is enrolled and the offering + employer shall pay any amounts so credited to the Exchange. + (3) Payment of excess amounts.--If the amount of the free + choice voucher exceeds the amount of the premium of the + qualified health plan in which the qualified employee is + enrolled for such month, such excess shall be paid to the + employee. + + (e) Other Definitions.--Any term used in this section which is also +used in section 5000A of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 shall have +the meaning given such term under such section 5000A. + (f) Exclusion From Income for Employee.-- + (1) In general.--Part III of subchapter B of chapter 1 of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is amended by inserting after + section 139C the following new section: + +``SEC. 139D. <> FREE CHOICE VOUCHERS. + + ``Gross income shall not include the amount of any free choice +voucher provided by an employer under section 10108 of the Patient +Protection and Affordable Care Act to the extent that the amount of such +voucher does not exceed the amount paid for a qualified health plan (as +defined in section 1301 of such Act) by the taxpayer.''. + (2) Clerical amendment.--The table of sections for part III + of subchapter B of chapter 1 of such Code is amended by + inserting after the item relating to section 139C the following + new item: + +``Sec. 139D. Free choice vouchers.''. + + (3) <> Effective date.--The + amendments made by this subsection shall apply to vouchers + provided after December 31, 2013. + + (g) Deduction Allowed to Employer.-- + (1) In general.--Section 162(a) of the Internal Revenue Code + of 1986 <> is amended by adding at the end + the following new sentence: ``For purposes of paragraph (1), the + amount of a free choice voucher provided under section 10108 of + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act shall be treated + as an amount for compensation for personal services actually + rendered.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 914]] + + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendments made by this subsection shall apply to vouchers + provided after December 31, 2013. + + (h) Voucher Taken Into Account in Determining Premium Credit.-- + (1) In general.--Subsection (c)(2) of section 36B of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986, <> as added + by section 1401, is amended by adding at the end the following + new subparagraph: + ``(D) Exception for individual receiving free choice + vouchers.--The term `coverage month' shall not include + any month in which such individual has a free choice + voucher provided under section 10108 of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act.''. + (2) <> Effective date.--The + amendment made by this subsection shall apply to taxable years + beginning after December 31, 2013. + + (i) Coordination With Employer Responsibilities.-- + (1) Shared responsibility penalty.-- + (A) In general.--Subsection (c) of section 4980H of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as added by section + 1513, is amended <> by adding at + the end the following new paragraph: + ``(3) Special rules for employers providing free choice + vouchers.--No assessable payment shall be imposed under + paragraph (1) for any month with respect to any employee to whom + the employer provides a free choice voucher under section 10108 + of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act for such + month.''. + (B) <> Effective date.-- + The amendment made by this paragraph shall apply to + months beginning after December 31, 2013. + (2) Notification requirement.--Section 18B(a)(3) of the Fair + Labor Standards Act of 1938, <> as added by + section 1512, is amended-- + (A) by inserting ``and the employer does not offer a + free choice voucher'' after ``Exchange''; and + (B) by striking ``will lose'' and inserting ``may + lose''. + + (j) Employer Reporting.-- + (1) In general.--Subsection (a) of section 6056 of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986, <> as added + by section 1514, is amended by inserting ``and every offering + employer'' before ``shall''. + (2) Offering employers.--Subsection (f) of section 6056 of + such Code, as added by section 1514, is amended to read as + follows: + + ``(f) Definitions.--For purposes of this section-- + ``(1) Offering employer.-- + ``(A) In general.--The term `offering employer' + means any offering employer (as defined in section + 10108(b) of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care + Act) if the required contribution (within the meaning of + section 5000A(e)(1)(B)(i)) of any employee exceeds 8 + percent of the wages (as defined in section 3121(a)) + paid to such employee by such employer. + ``(B) Indexing.--In the case of any calendar year + beginning after 2014, the 8 percent under subparagraph + (A) + +[[Page 124 STAT. 915]] + + shall be adjusted for the calendar year to reflect the + rate of premium growth between the preceding calendar + year and 2013 over the rate of income growth for such + period. + ``(2) Other definitions.--Any term used in this section + which is also used in section 4980H shall have the meaning given + such term by section 4980H.''. + (3) Conforming amendments.-- + (A) The heading of section 6056 of such Code, as + added by section 1514, <> is + amended by striking ``large'' and inserting ``certain''. + (B) Section 6056(b)(2)(C) of such Code is amended-- + (i) by inserting ``in the case of an + applicable large employer,'' before ``the length'' + in clause (i); + (ii) by striking ``and'' at the end of clause + (iii); + (iii) by striking ``applicable large + employer'' in clause (iv) and inserting + ``employer''; + (iv) by inserting ``and'' at the end of clause + (iv); and + (v) by inserting at the end the following new + clause: + ``(v) in the case of an offering employer, the + option for which the employer pays the largest + portion of the cost of the plan and the portion of + the cost paid by the employer in each of the + enrollment categories under such option,''. + (C) Section 6056(d)(2) of such Code is amended by + inserting ``or offering employer'' after ``applicable + large employer''. + (D) Section 6056(e) of such Code is amended by + inserting ``or offering employer'' after ``applicable + large employer''. + (E) Section 6724(d)(1)(B)(xxv) of such Code, as + added by section 1514, is amended by striking ``large'' + and inserting ``certain''. + (F) Section 6724(d)(2)(HH) of such Code, as added by + section 1514, is amended by striking ``large'' and + inserting ``certain''. + (G) The table of sections for subpart D of part III + of subchapter A of chapter 1 of such Code, as amended by + section 1514, is amended by striking ``Large employers'' + in the item relating to section 6056 and inserting + ``Certain employers''. + (4) <> Effective date.--The + amendments made by this subsection shall apply to periods + beginning after December 31, 2013. + +SEC. 10109. DEVELOPMENT OF STANDARDS FOR FINANCIAL AND ADMINISTRATIVE + TRANSACTIONS. + + (a) Additional Transaction Standards and Operating Rules.-- + (1) Development of additional transaction standards and + operating rules.--Section 1173(a) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1320d-2(a)), as amended by section 1104(b)(2), is + amended-- + (A) in paragraph (1)(B), by inserting before the + period the following: ``, and subject to the + requirements under paragraph (5)''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 916]] + + (B) by adding at the end the following new + paragraph: + ``(5) Consideration of standardization of activities and + items.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--For + purposes of carrying out paragraph (1)(B), the Secretary + shall solicit, not later than January 1, 2012, and not + less than every 3 years thereafter, input from entities + described in subparagraph (B) on-- + ``(i) whether there could be greater + uniformity in financial and administrative + activities and items, as determined appropriate by + the Secretary; and + ``(ii) whether such activities should be + considered financial and administrative + transactions (as described in paragraph (1)(B)) + for which the adoption of standards and operating + rules would improve the operation of the health + care system and reduce administrative costs. + ``(B) Solicitation of input.--For purposes of + subparagraph (A), the Secretary shall seek input from-- + ``(i) the National Committee on Vital and + Health Statistics, the Health Information + Technology Policy Committee, and the Health + Information Technology Standards Committee; and + ``(ii) standard setting organizations and + stakeholders, as determined appropriate by the + Secretary.''. + + (b) <> Activities and Items for Initial +Consideration.--For purposes of section 1173(a)(5) of the Social +Security Act, as added by subsection (a), the Secretary of Health and +Human Services (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall, +not later than January 1, 2012, seek input on activities and items +relating to the following areas: + (1) Whether the application process, including the use of a + uniform application form, for enrollment of health care + providers by health plans could be made electronic and + standardized. + (2) Whether standards and operating rules described in + section 1173 of the Social Security Act should apply to the + health care transactions of automobile insurance, worker's + compensation, and other programs or persons not described in + section 1172(a) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1320d-1(a)). + (3) Whether standardized forms could apply to financial + audits required by health plans, Federal and State agencies + (including State auditors, the Office of the Inspector General + of the Department of Health and Human Services, and the Centers + for Medicare & Medicaid Services), and other relevant entities + as determined appropriate by the Secretary. + (4) Whether there could be greater transparency and + consistency of methodologies and processes used to establish + claim edits used by health plans (as described in section + 1171(5) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1320d(5))). + (5) Whether health plans should be required to publish their + timeliness of payment rules. + + (c) ICD Coding Crosswalks.-- + (1) <> ICD-9 to icd-10 + crosswalk.--The Secretary shall task the ICD-9-CM Coordination + and Maintenance Committee to convene a meeting, not later than + January 1, 2011, to receive input from appropriate stakeholders + (including health plans, health care providers, and clinicians) + regarding the crosswalk + +[[Page 124 STAT. 917]] + + between the Ninth and Tenth Revisions of the International + Classification of Diseases (ICD-9 and ICD-10, respectively) that + is posted on the website of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid + Services, and make recommendations about appropriate revisions + to such crosswalk. + (2) Revision of crosswalk.--For purposes of the crosswalk + described in paragraph (1), the Secretary shall make appropriate + revisions and post any such revised crosswalk on the website of + the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services. + (3) Use of revised crosswalk.--For purposes of paragraph + (2), any revised crosswalk shall be treated as a code set for + which a standard has been adopted by the Secretary for purposes + of section 1173(c)(1)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1320d-2(c)(1)(B)). + (4) <> Subsequent crosswalks.--For + subsequent revisions of the International Classification of + Diseases that are adopted by the Secretary as a standard code + set under section 1173(c) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1320d-2(c)), the Secretary shall, after consultation with the + appropriate stakeholders, post on the website of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services a crosswalk between the previous + and subsequent version of the International Classification of + Diseases not later than the date of implementation of such + subsequent revision. + + Subtitle B--Provisions Relating to Title II + + PART I--MEDICAID AND CHIP + +SEC. 10201. AMENDMENTS TO THE SOCIAL SECURITY ACT AND TITLE II OF THIS + ACT. + + (a)(1) Section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i)(IX) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1396a(a)(10)(A)(i)(IX)), as added by section 2004(a), is amended +to read as follows: + ``(IX) who-- + ``(aa) are under 26 years of + age; + ``(bb) are not described in + or enrolled under any of + subclauses (I) through (VII) of + this clause or are described in + any of such subclauses but have + income that exceeds the level of + income applicable under the + State plan for eligibility to + enroll for medical assistance + under such subclause; + ``(cc) were in foster care + under the responsibility of the + State on the date of attaining + 18 years of age or such higher + age as the State has elected + under section 475(8)(B)(iii); + and + ``(dd) were enrolled in the + State plan under this title or + under a waiver of the plan while + in such foster care;''. + + (2) Section 1902(a)(10) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1396a(a)(10), as amended by section 2001(a)(5)(A), is amended in the +matter following subparagraph (G), by striking ``and (XV)'' and +inserting ``(XV)'', and by inserting ``and (XVI) if an individual is +described in subclause (IX) of subparagraph (A)(i) and is also described +in subclause (VIII) of that subparagraph, the medical + +[[Page 124 STAT. 918]] + +assistance shall be made available to the individual through subclause +(IX) instead of through subclause (VIII)'' before the semicolon. + (3) <> Section 2004(d) of this Act is +amended by striking ``2019'' and inserting ``2014''. + + (b) Section 1902(k)(2) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1396a(k)(2)), as added by section 2001(a)(4)(A), is amended by striking +``January 1, 2011'' and inserting ``April 1, 2010''. + (c) Section 1905 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d), as +amended by sections 2001(a)(3), 2001(a)(5)(C), 2006, and 4107(a)(2), is +amended-- + (1) in subsection (a), in the matter preceding paragraph + (1), by inserting in clause (xiv), ``or 1902(a)(10)(A)(i)(IX)'' + before the comma; + (2) in subsection (b), in the first sentence, by inserting + ``, (z),'' before ``and (aa)''; + (3) in subsection (y)-- + (A) in paragraph (1)(B)(ii)(II), in the first + sentence, by inserting ``includes inpatient hospital + services,'' after ``100 percent of the poverty line, + that''; and + (B) in paragraph (2)(A), by striking ``on the date + of enactment of the Patient Protection and Affordable + Care Act'' and inserting ``as of December 1, 2009''; + (4) by inserting after subsection (y) the following: + + ``(z) Equitable Support for Certain States.-- + ``(1)(A) <> During the period that + begins on January 1, 2014, and ends on September 30, 2019, + notwithstanding subsection (b), the Federal medical assistance + percentage otherwise determined under subsection (b) with + respect to a fiscal year occurring during that period shall be + increased by 2.2 percentage points for any State described in + subparagraph (B) for amounts expended for medical assistance for + individuals who are not newly eligible (as defined in subsection + (y)(2)) individuals described in subclause (VIII) of section + 1902(a)(10)(A)(i). + ``(B) For purposes of subparagraph (A), a State described in + this subparagraph is a State that-- + ``(i) is an expansion State described in subsection + (y)(1)(B)(ii)(II); + ``(ii) the Secretary determines will not receive any + payments under this title on the basis of an increased + Federal medical assistance percentage under subsection + (y) for expenditures for medical assistance for newly + eligible individuals (as so defined); and + ``(iii) has not been approved by the Secretary to + divert a portion of the DSH allotment for a State to the + costs of providing medical assistance or other health + benefits coverage under a waiver that is in effect on + July 2009. + + ``(2)(A) <> During the period that begins on +January 1, 2014, and ends on December 31, 2016, notwithstanding +subsection (b), the Federal medical assistance percentage otherwise +determined under subsection (b) with respect to all or any portion of a +fiscal year occurring during that period shall be increased by .5 +percentage point for a State described in subparagraph (B) for amounts +expended for medical assistance under the State plan under this title or +under a waiver of that plan during that period. + + ``(B) For purposes of subparagraph (A), a State described in this +subparagraph is a State that-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 919]] + + ``(i) is described in clauses (i) and (ii) of paragraph + (1)(B); and + ``(ii) is the State with the highest percentage of its + population insured during 2008, based on the Current Population + Survey. + + ``(3) <> Notwithstanding subsection +(b) and paragraphs (1) and (2) of this subsection, the Federal medical +assistance percentage otherwise determined under subsection (b) with +respect to all or any portion of a fiscal year that begins on or after +January 1, 2017, for the State of Nebraska, with respect to amounts +expended for newly eligible individuals described in subclause (VIII) of +section 1902(a)(10)(A)(i), shall be determined as provided for under +subsection (y)(1)(A) (notwithstanding the period provided for in such +paragraph). + + ``(4) <> The increase in the Federal medical +assistance percentage for a State under paragraphs (1), (2), or (3) +shall apply only for purposes of this title and shall not apply with +respect to-- + ``(A) disproportionate share hospital payments described in + section 1923; + ``(B) payments under title IV; + ``(C) payments under title XXI; and + ``(D) payments under this title that are based on the + enhanced FMAP described in section 2105(b).''; + (5) in subsection (aa), is amended by striking ``without + regard to this subsection and subsection (y)'' and inserting + ``without regard to this subsection, subsection (y), subsection + (z), and section 10202 of the Patient Protection and Affordable + Care Act'' each place it appears; + (6) by adding after subsection (bb), the following: + + ``(cc) Requirement for Certain States.--Notwithstanding subsections +(y), (z), and (aa), in the case of a State that requires political +subdivisions within the State to contribute toward the non-Federal share +of expenditures required under the State plan under section 1902(a)(2), +the State shall not be eligible for an increase in its Federal medical +assistance percentage under such subsections if it requires that +political subdivisions pay a greater percentage of the non-Federal share +of such expenditures, or a greater percentage of the non-Federal share +of payments under section 1923, than the respective percentages that +would have been required by the State under the State plan under this +title, State law, or both, as in effect on December 31, 2009, and +without regard to any such increase. Voluntary contributions by a +political subdivision to the non-Federal share of expenditures under the +State plan under this title or to the non-Federal share of payments +under section 1923, shall not be considered to be required contributions +for purposes of this subsection. The treatment of voluntary +contributions, and the treatment of contributions required by a State +under the State plan under this title, or State law, as provided by this +subsection, shall also apply to the increases in the Federal medical +assistance percentage under section 5001 of the American Recovery and +Reinvestment Act of 2009.''. + (d) Section 1108(g)(4)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1308(g)(4)(B)), as added by section 2005(b), is amended by striking +``income eligibility level in effect for that population under title XIX +or under a waiver'' and inserting ``the highest income eligibility level +in effect for parents under the commonwealth's or territory's State plan +under title XIX or under a waiver of the plan''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 920]] + + (e)(1) Section 1923(f) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396r- +4(f)), as amended by section 2551, is amended-- + (A) in paragraph (6)-- + (i) by striking the paragraph heading and inserting + the following: ``Allotment adjustments''; and + (ii) in subparagraph (B), by adding at the end the + following: + ``(iii) <> Allotment for 2d, + 3rd, and 4th quarter of fiscal year 2012, fiscal + year 2013, and succeeding fiscal years.-- + Notwithstanding the table set forth in paragraph + (2) or paragraph (7): + ``(I) 2d, 3rd, and 4th quarter of + fiscal year 2012.--The DSH allotment for + Hawaii for the 2d, 3rd, and 4th quarters + of fiscal year 2012 shall be $7,500,000. + ``(II) Treatment as a low-dsh state + for fiscal year 2013 and succeeding + fiscal years.--With respect to fiscal + year 2013, and each fiscal year + thereafter, the DSH allotment for Hawaii + shall be increased in the same manner as + allotments for low DSH States are + increased for such fiscal year under + clause (iii) of paragraph (5)(B). + ``(III) Certain hospital payments.-- + The Secretary may not impose a + limitation on the total amount of + payments made to hospitals under the + QUEST section 1115 Demonstration Project + except to the extent that such + limitation is necessary to ensure that a + hospital does not receive payments in + excess of the amounts described in + subsection (g), or as necessary to + ensure that such payments under the + waiver and such payments pursuant to the + allotment provided in this clause do + not, in the aggregate in any year, + exceed the amount that the Secretary + determines is equal to the Federal + medical assistance percentage component + attributable to disproportionate share + hospital payment adjustments for such + year that is reflected in the budget + neutrality provision of the QUEST + Demonstration Project.''; and + (B) in paragraph (7)-- + (i) in subparagraph (A), in the matter preceding + clause (i), by striking ``subparagraph (E)'' and + inserting ``subparagraphs (E) and (G)''; + (ii) in subparagraph (B)-- + (I) in clause (i), by striking subclauses (I) + and (II), and inserting the following: + ``(I) if the State is a low DSH + State described in paragraph (5)(B) and + has spent not more than 99.90 percent of + the DSH allotments for the State on + average for the period of fiscal years + 2004 through 2008, as of September 30, + 2009, the applicable percentage is equal + to 25 percent; + ``(II) if the State is a low DSH + State described in paragraph (5)(B) and + has spent more than 99.90 percent of the + DSH allotments for the State on average + for the period of fiscal years 2004 + through + +[[Page 124 STAT. 921]] + + 2008, as of September 30, 2009, the + applicable percentage is equal to 17.5 + percent; + ``(III) if the State is not a low + DSH State described in paragraph (5)(B) + and has spent not more than 99.90 + percent of the DSH allotments for the + State on average for the period of + fiscal years 2004 through 2008, as of + September 30, 2009, the applicable + percentage is equal to 50 percent; and + ``(IV) if the State is not a low DSH + State described in paragraph (5)(B) and + has spent more than 99.90 percent of the + DSH allotments for the State on average + for the period of fiscal years 2004 + through 2008, as of September 30, 2009, + the applicable percentage is equal to 35 + percent.''; + (II) in clause (ii), by striking subclauses + (I) and (II), and inserting the following: + ``(I) if the State is a low DSH + State described in paragraph (5)(B) and + has spent not more than 99.90 percent of + the DSH allotments for the State on + average for the period of fiscal years + 2004 through 2008, as of September 30, + 2009, the applicable percentage is equal + to the product of the percentage + reduction in uncovered individuals for + the fiscal year from the preceding + fiscal year and 27.5 percent; + ``(II) if the State is a low DSH + State described in paragraph (5)(B) and + has spent more than 99.90 percent of the + DSH allotments for the State on average + for the period of fiscal years 2004 + through 2008, as of September 30, 2009, + the applicable percentage is equal to + the product of the percentage reduction + in uncovered individuals for the fiscal + year from the preceding fiscal year and + 20 percent; + ``(III) if the State is not a low + DSH State described in paragraph (5)(B) + and has spent not more than 99.90 + percent of the DSH allotments for the + State on average for the period of + fiscal years 2004 through 2008, as of + September 30, 2009, the applicable + percentage is equal to the product of + the percentage reduction in uncovered + individuals for the fiscal year from the + preceding fiscal year and 55 percent; + and + ``(IV) if the State is not a low DSH + State described in paragraph (5)(B) and + has spent more than 99.90 percent of the + DSH allotments for the State on average + for the period of fiscal years 2004 + through 2008, as of September 30, 2009, + the applicable percentage is equal to + the product of the percentage reduction + in uncovered individuals for the fiscal + year from the preceding fiscal year and + 40 percent.''; + (III) in subparagraph (E), by striking ``35 + percent'' and inserting ``50 percent''; and + (IV) by adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 922]] + + ``(G) Nonapplication.--The preceding provisions of + this paragraph shall not apply to the DSH allotment + determined for the State of Hawaii for a fiscal year + under paragraph (6).''. + + (f) Section 2551 of this Act <> is +amended by striking subsection (b). + + (g) Section 2105(d)(3)(B) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1397ee(d)(3)(B)), as added by section 2101(b)(1), is amended by adding +at the end the following: ``For purposes of eligibility for premium +assistance for the purchase of a qualified health plan under section 36B +of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 and reduced cost-sharing under +section 1402 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act, children +described in the preceding sentence shall be deemed to be ineligible for +coverage under the State child health plan.''. + (h) Clause (i) of subparagraph (C) of section 513(b)(2) of the +Social Security Act, <> as added by section 2953 of +this Act, is amended to read as follows: + ``(i) Healthy relationships, including + marriage and family interactions.''. + + (i) Section 1115 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1315) is +amended by inserting after subsection (c) the following: + ``(d)(1) An application or renewal of any experimental, pilot, or +demonstration project undertaken under subsection (a) to promote the +objectives of title XIX or XXI in a State that would result in an impact +on eligibility, enrollment, benefits, cost-sharing, or financing with +respect to a State program under title XIX or XXI (in this subsection +referred to as a `demonstration project') shall be considered by the +Secretary in accordance with the regulations required to be promulgated +under paragraph (2). + ``(2) <> Not later than 180 days after +the date of enactment of this subsection, the Secretary shall promulgate +regulations relating to applications for, and renewals of, a +demonstration project that provide for-- + ``(A) a process for public notice and comment at the State + level, including public hearings, sufficient to ensure a + meaningful level of public input; + ``(B) requirements relating to-- + ``(i) the goals of the program to be implemented or + renewed under the demonstration project; + ``(ii) the expected State and Federal costs and + coverage projections of the demonstration project; and + ``(iii) the specific plans of the State to ensure + that the demonstration project will be in compliance + with title XIX or XXI; + ``(C) a process for providing public notice and comment + after the application is received by the Secretary, that is + sufficient to ensure a meaningful level of public input; + ``(D) a process for the submission to the Secretary of + periodic reports by the State concerning the implementation of + the demonstration project; and + ``(E) a process for the periodic evaluation by the Secretary + of the demonstration project. + + ``(3) <> The Secretary shall annually +report to Congress concerning actions taken by the Secretary with +respect to applications for demonstration projects under this +section.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 923]] + + (j) Subtitle F of title III of this Act is amended by adding at the +end the following: + +``SEC. 3512. GAO STUDY AND REPORT ON CAUSES OF ACTION. + + ``(a) Study.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Comptroller General of the United + States shall conduct a study of whether the development, + recognition, or implementation of any guideline or other + standards under a provision described in paragraph (2) would + result in the establishment of a new cause of action or claim. + ``(2) Provisions described.--The provisions described in + this paragraph include the following: + ``(A) Section 2701 (adult health quality measures). + ``(B) Section 2702 (payment adjustments for health + care acquired conditions). + ``(C) Section 3001 (Hospital Value-Based Purchase + Program). + ``(D) Section 3002 (improvements to the Physician + Quality Reporting Initiative). + ``(E) Section 3003 (improvements to the Physician + Feedback Program). + ``(F) Section 3007 (value based payment modifier + under physician fee schedule). + ``(G) Section 3008 (payment adjustment for + conditions acquired in hospitals). + ``(H) Section 3013 (quality measure development). + ``(I) Section 3014 (quality measurement). + ``(J) Section 3021 (Establishment of Center for + Medicare and Medicaid Innovation). + ``(K) Section 3025 (hospital readmission reduction + program). + ``(L) Section 3501 (health care delivery system + research, quality improvement). + ``(M) Section 4003 (Task Force on Clinical and + Preventive Services). + ``(N) Section 4301 (research to optimize deliver of + public health services). + + ``(b) Report.--Not later than 2 years after the date of enactment of +this Act, the Comptroller General of the United States shall submit to +the appropriate committees of Congress, a report containing the findings +made by the Comptroller General under the study under subsection (a).''. + +SEC. 10202. <> INCENTIVES FOR STATES TO OFFER + HOME AND COMMUNITY-BASED SERVICES AS A LONG-TERM CARE + ALTERNATIVE TO NURSING HOMES. + + (a) State Balancing Incentive Payments Program.--Notwithstanding +section 1905(b) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396d(b)), in the +case of a balancing incentive payment State, as defined in subsection +(b), that meets the conditions described in subsection (c), during the +balancing incentive period, the Federal medical assistance percentage +determined for the State under section 1905(b) of such Act and, if +applicable, increased under subsection (z) or (aa) shall be increased by +the applicable percentage points determined under subsection (d) with +respect to eligible medical assistance expenditures described in +subsection (e). + (b) Balancing Incentive Payment State.--A balancing incentive +payment State is a State-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 924]] + + (1) in which less than 50 percent of the total expenditures + for medical assistance under the State Medicaid program for a + fiscal year for long-term services and supports (as defined by + the Secretary under subsection (f))(1)) are for non- + institutionally-based long-term services and supports described + in subsection (f)(1)(B); + (2) that submits an application and meets the conditions + described in subsection (c); and + (3) that is selected by the Secretary to participate in the + State balancing incentive payment program established under this + section. + + (c) Conditions.--The conditions described in this subsection are the +following: + (1) Application.--The State submits an application to the + Secretary that includes, in addition to such other information + as the Secretary shall require-- + (A) a proposed budget that details the State's plan + to expand and diversify medical assistance for non- + institutionally-based long-term services and supports + described in subsection (f)(1)(B) under the State + Medicaid program during the balancing incentive period + and achieve the target spending percentage applicable to + the State under paragraph (2), including through + structural changes to how the State furnishes such + assistance, such as through the establishment of a ``no + wrong door--single entry point system'', optional + presumptive eligibility, case management services, and + the use of core standardized assessment instruments, and + that includes a description of the new or expanded + offerings of such services that the State will provide + and the projected costs of such services; and + (B) in the case of a State that proposes to expand + the provision of home and community-based services under + its State Medicaid program through a State plan + amendment under section 1915(i) of the Social Security + Act, at the option of the State, an election to increase + the income eligibility for such services from 150 + percent of the poverty line to such higher percentage as + the State may establish for such purpose, not to exceed + 300 percent of the supplemental security income benefit + rate established by section 1611(b)(1) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1382(b)(1)). + (2) <> Target spending percentages.-- + (A) In the case of a balancing incentive payment + State in which less than 25 percent of the total + expenditures for long-term services and supports under + the State Medicaid program for fiscal year 2009 are for + home and community-based services, the target spending + percentage for the State to achieve by not later than + October 1, 2015, is that 25 percent of the total + expenditures for long-term services and supports under + the State Medicaid program are for home and community- + based services. + (B) In the case of any other balancing incentive + payment State, the target spending percentage for the + State to achieve by not later than October 1, 2015, is + that 50 percent of the total expenditures for long-term + services and supports under the State Medicaid program + are for home and community-based services. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 925]] + + (3) Maintenance of eligibility requirements.--The State does + not apply eligibility standards, methodologies, or procedures + for determining eligibility for medical assistance for non- + institutionally-based long-term services and supports described + in subsection (f)(1)(B) under the State Medicaid program that + are more restrictive than the eligibility standards, + methodologies, or procedures in effect for such purposes on + December 31, 2010. + (4) Use of additional funds.--The State agrees to use the + additional Federal funds paid to the State as a result of this + section only for purposes of providing new or expanded offerings + of non-institutionally-based long-term services and supports + described in subsection (f)(1)(B) under the State Medicaid + program. + (5) Structural changes. <> --The State + agrees to make, not later than the end of the 6-month period + that begins on the date the State submits an application under + this section, the following changes: + (A) <> ``No wrong door--single + entry point system''.--Development of a statewide system + to enable consumers to access all long-term services and + supports through an agency, organization, coordinated + network, or portal, in accordance with such standards as + the State shall establish and that shall provide + information regarding the availability of such services, + how to apply for such services, referral services for + services and supports otherwise available in the + community, and determinations of financial and + functional eligibility for such services and supports, + or assistance with assessment processes for financial + and functional eligibility. + (B) Conflict-free case management services.-- + Conflict-free case management services to develop a + service plan, arrange for services and supports, support + the beneficiary (and, if appropriate, the beneficiary's + caregivers) in directing the provision of services and + supports for the beneficiary, and conduct ongoing + monitoring to assure that services and supports are + delivered to meet the beneficiary's needs and achieve + intended outcomes. + (C) Core standardized assessment instruments.-- + Development of core standardized assessment instruments + for determining eligibility for non-institutionally- + based long-term services and supports described in + subsection (f)(1)(B), which shall be used in a uniform + manner throughout the State, to determine a + beneficiary's needs for training, support services, + medical care, transportation, and other services, and + develop an individual service plan to address such + needs. + (6) Data collection.--The State agrees to collect from + providers of services and through such other means as the State + determines appropriate the following data: + (A) <> Services data.--Services + data from providers of non-institutionally-based long- + term services and supports described in subsection + (f)(1)(B) on a per-beneficiary basis and in accordance + with such standardized coding procedures as the State + shall establish in consultation with the Secretary. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 926]] + + (B) Quality data.--Quality data on a selected set of + core quality measures agreed upon by the Secretary and + the State that are linked to population-specific + outcomes measures and accessible to providers. + (C) Outcomes measures.--Outcomes measures data on a + selected set of core population-specific outcomes + measures agreed upon by the Secretary and the State that + are accessible to providers and include-- + (i) measures of beneficiary and family + caregiver experience with providers; + (ii) measures of beneficiary and family + caregiver satisfaction with services; and + (iii) measures for achieving desired outcomes + appropriate to a specific beneficiary, including + employment, participation in community life, + health stability, and prevention of loss in + function. + + (d) Applicable Percentage Points Increase in FMAP.--The applicable +percentage points increase is-- + (1) in the case of a balancing incentive payment State + subject to the target spending percentage described in + subsection (c)(2)(A), 5 percentage points; and + (2) in the case of any other balancing incentive payment + State, 2 percentage points. + + (e) Eligible Medical Assistance Expenditures.-- + (1) In general.--Subject to paragraph (2), medical + assistance described in this subsection is medical assistance + for non-institutionally-based long-term services and supports + described in subsection (f)(1)(B) that is provided by a + balancing incentive payment State under its State Medicaid + program during the balancing incentive payment period. + (2) Limitation on payments.--In no case may the aggregate + amount of payments made by the Secretary to balancing incentive + payment States under this section during the balancing incentive + period exceed $3,000,000,000. + + (f) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Long-term services and supports defined.--The term + ``long-term services and supports'' has the meaning given that + term by Secretary and may include any of the following (as + defined for purposes of State Medicaid programs): + (A) Institutionally-based long-term services and + supports.--Services provided in an institution, + including the following: + (i) Nursing facility services. + (ii) Services in an intermediate care facility + for the mentally retarded described in subsection + (a)(15) of section 1905 of such Act. + (B) Non-institutionally-based long-term services and + supports.--Services not provided in an institution, + including the following: + (i) Home and community-based services provided + under subsection (c), (d), or (i) of section 1915 + of such Act or under a waiver under section 1115 + of such Act. + (ii) Home health care services. + (iii) Personal care services. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 927]] + + (iv) Services described in subsection (a)(26) + of section 1905 of such Act (relating to PACE + program services). + (v) Self-directed personal assistance services + described in section 1915(j) of such Act. + (2) Balancing incentive period.--The term ``balancing + incentive period'' means the period that begins on October 1, + 2011, and ends on September 30, 2015. + (3) Poverty line.--The term ``poverty line'' has the meaning + given that term in section 2110(c)(5) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1397jj(c)(5)). + (4) State medicaid program.--The term ``State Medicaid + program'' means the State program for medical assistance + provided under a State plan under title XIX of the Social + Security Act and under any waiver approved with respect to such + State plan. + +SEC. 10203. EXTENSION OF FUNDING FOR CHIP THROUGH FISCAL YEAR 2015 AND + OTHER CHIP-RELATED PROVISIONS. + + (a) Section 1311(c)(1) of this Act <> is +amended by striking ``and'' at the end of subparagraph (G), by striking +the period at the end of subparagraph (H) and inserting ``; and'', and +by adding at the end the following: + ``(I) <> report to the + Secretary at least annually and in such manner as the + Secretary shall require, pediatric quality reporting + measures consistent with the pediatric quality reporting + measures established under section 1139A of the Social + Security Act.''. + + (b) <> Effective as if +included in the enactment of the Children's Health Insurance Program +Reauthorization Act of 2009 (Public Law 111-3): + (1) Section 1906(e)(2) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1396e(e)(2)) is amended by striking ``means'' and all that + follows through the period and inserting ``has the meaning given + that term in section 2105(c)(3)(A).''. + (2)(A) Section 1906A(a) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1396e-1(a)), is amended by inserting before the period + the following: ``and the offering of such a subsidy is cost- + effective, as defined for purposes of section 2105(c)(3)(A)''. + (B) <> This + Act shall be applied without regard to subparagraph (A) of + section 2003(a)(1) of this Act and that subparagraph and the + amendment made by that subparagraph are hereby deemed null, + void, and of no effect. + (3) Section 2105(c)(10) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1397ee(c)(10)) is amended-- + (A) in subparagraph (A), in the first sentence, by + inserting before the period the following: ``if the + offering of such a subsidy is cost-effective, as defined + for purposes of paragraph (3)(A)''; + (B) by striking subparagraph (M); and + (C) by redesignating subparagraph (N) as + subparagraph (M). + (4) Section 2105(c)(3)(A) of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1397ee(c)(3)(A)) is amended-- + (A) in the matter preceding clause (i), by striking + ``to'' and inserting ``to--''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 928]] + + (B) in clause (ii), by striking the period and + inserting a semicolon. + + (c) Section 2105 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397ee), as +amended by section 2101, is amended-- + (1) in subsection (b), in the second sentence, by striking + ``2013'' and inserting ``2015''; and + (2) in subsection (d)(3)-- + (A) in subparagraph (A)-- + (i) in the first sentence, by inserting ``as a + condition of receiving payments under section + 1903(a),'' after ``2019,''; + (ii) in clause (i), by striking ``or'' at the + end; + (iii) by redesignating clause (ii) as clause + (iii); and + (iv) by inserting after clause (i), the + following: + ``(ii) after September 30, 2015, enrolling + children eligible to be targeted low-income + children under the State child health plan in a + qualified health plan that has been certified by + the Secretary under subparagraph (C); or''; + (B) <> in subparagraph (B), by + striking ``provided coverage'' and inserting ``screened + for eligibility for medical assistance under the State + plan under title XIX or a waiver of that plan and, if + found eligible, enrolled in such plan or a waiver. In + the case of such children who, as a result of such + screening, are determined to not be eligible for medical + assistance under the State plan or a waiver under title + XIX, the State shall establish procedures to ensure that + the children are enrolled in a qualified health plan + that has been certified by the Secretary under + subparagraph (C) and is offered''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(C) Certification of comparability of pediatric + coverage offered by qualified health plans.-- + <> With respect + to each State, the Secretary, not later than April 1, + 2015, shall review the benefits offered for children and + the cost-sharing imposed with respect to such benefits + by qualified health plans offered through an Exchange + established by the State under section 1311 of the + Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act and shall + certify those plans that offer benefits for children and + impose cost-sharing with respect to such benefits that + the Secretary determines are at least comparable to the + benefits offered and cost-sharing protections provided + under the State child health plan.''. + + (d)(1) Section 2104(a) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1397dd(a)) is +amended-- + (A) in paragraph (15), by striking ``and'' at the end; and + (B) by striking paragraph (16) and inserting the following: + ``(16) for fiscal year 2013, $17,406,000,000; + ``(17) for fiscal year 2014, $19,147,000,000; and + ``(18) for fiscal year 2015, for purposes of making 2 semi- + annual allotments-- + ``(A) $2,850,000,000 for the period beginning on + October 1, 2014, and ending on March 31, 2015, and + ``(B) $2,850,000,000 for the period beginning on + April 1, 2015, and ending on September 30, 2015.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 929]] + + (2)(A) Section 2104(m) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1397dd(m)), as amended +by section 2102(a)(1), is amended-- + (i) in the subsection heading, by striking ``2013'' and + inserting ``2015''; + (ii) in paragraph (2)-- + (I) in the paragraph heading, by striking ``2012'' + and inserting ``2014''; and + (II) by adding at the end the following: + ``(B) <> Fiscal years 2013 and + 2014.--Subject to paragraphs (4) and (6), from the + amount made available under paragraphs (16) and (17) of + subsection (a) for fiscal years 2013 and 2014, + respectively, the Secretary shall compute a State + allotment for each State (including the District of + Columbia and each commonwealth and territory) for each + such fiscal year as follows: + ``(i) Rebasing in fiscal year 2013.--For + fiscal year 2013, the allotment of the State is + equal to the Federal payments to the State that + are attributable to (and countable towards) the + total amount of allotments available under this + section to the State in fiscal year 2012 + (including payments made to the State under + subsection (n) for fiscal year 2012 as well as + amounts redistributed to the State in fiscal year + 2012), multiplied by the allotment increase factor + under paragraph (5) for fiscal year 2013. + ``(ii) Growth factor update for fiscal year + 2014.--For fiscal year 2014, the allotment of the + State is equal to the sum of-- + ``(I) the amount of the State + allotment under clause (i) for fiscal + year 2013; and + ``(II) the amount of any payments + made to the State under subsection (n) + for fiscal year 2013, + multiplied by the allotment increase factor under + paragraph (5) for fiscal year 2014.''; + (iii) in paragraph (3)-- + (I) in the paragraph heading, by striking + ``2013'' and inserting ``2015''; + (II) in subparagraphs (A) and (B), by striking + ``paragraph (16)'' each place it appears and + inserting ``paragraph (18)''; + (III) in subparagraph (C)-- + (aa) by striking ``2012'' each place + it appears and inserting ``2014''; and + (bb) by striking ``2013'' and + inserting ``2015''; and + (IV) in subparagraph (D)-- + (aa) in clause (i)(I), by striking + ``subsection (a)(16)(A)'' and inserting + ``subsection (a)(18)(A)''; and + (bb) in clause (ii)(II), by striking + ``subsection (a)(16)(B)'' and inserting + ``subsection (a)(18)(B)''; + (iv) in paragraph (4), by striking ``2013'' and + inserting ``2015''; + (v) in paragraph (6)-- + (I) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``2013'' + and inserting ``2015''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 930]] + + (II) in the flush language after and below + subparagraph (B)(ii), by striking ``or fiscal year + 2012'' and inserting ``, fiscal year 2012, or + fiscal year 2014''; and + (vi) in paragraph (8)-- + (I) in the paragraph heading, by striking + ``2013'' and inserting ``2015''; and + (II) by striking ``2013'' and inserting + ``2015''. + + (B) Section 2104(n) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1397dd(n)) is amended-- + (i) in paragraph (2)-- + (I) in subparagraph (A)(ii)-- + (aa) by striking ``2012'' and inserting + ``2014''; and + (bb) by striking ``2013'' and inserting + ``2015''; + (II) in subparagraph (B)-- + (aa) by striking ``2012'' and inserting + ``2014''; and + (bb) by striking ``2013'' and inserting + ``2015''; and + (ii) in paragraph (3)(A), by striking ``or a semi-annual + allotment period for fiscal year 2013'' and inserting ``fiscal + year 2013, fiscal year 2014, or a semi-annual allotment period + for fiscal year 2015''. + + (C) Section 2105(g)(4) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1397ee(g)(4)) is +amended-- + (i) in the paragraph heading, by striking ``2013'' and + inserting ``2015''; and + (ii) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``2013'' and inserting + ``2015''. + + (D) Section 2110(b) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1397jj(b)) is amended-- + (i) in paragraph (2)(B), by inserting ``except as provided + in paragraph (6),'' before ``a child''; and + (ii) by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(6) Exceptions to exclusion of children of employees of a + public agency in the state.-- + ``(A) In general.--A child shall not be considered + to be described in paragraph (2)(B) if-- + ``(i) the public agency that employs a member + of the child's family to which such paragraph + applies satisfies subparagraph (B); or + ``(ii) <> subparagraph + (C) applies to such child. + ``(B) Maintenance of effort with respect to per + person agency contribution for family coverage.--For + purposes of subparagraph (A)(i), a public agency + satisfies this subparagraph if the amount of annual + agency expenditures made on behalf of each employee + enrolled in health coverage paid for by the agency that + includes dependent coverage for the most recent State + fiscal year is not less than the amount of such + expenditures made by the agency for the 1997 State + fiscal year, increased by the percentage increase in the + medical care expenditure category of the Consumer Price + Index for All-Urban Consumers (all items: U.S. City + Average) for such preceding fiscal year. + ``(C) <> Hardship exception.-- + For purposes of subparagraph (A)(ii), this subparagraph + applies to a child if the State determines, on a case- + by-case basis, that the annual aggregate amount of + premiums and cost-sharing imposed + +[[Page 124 STAT. 931]] + + for coverage of the family of the child would exceed 5 + percent of such family's income for the year + involved.''. + + (E) Section 2113 of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1397mm) is amended-- + (i) in subsection (a)(1), by striking ``2013'' and inserting + ``2015''; and + (ii) in subsection (g), by striking ``$100,000,000 for the + period of fiscal years 2009 through 2013'' and inserting + ``$140,000,000 for the period of fiscal years 2009 through + 2015''. + + (F) Section 108 of Public Law 111-3 <> is amended by striking ``$11,706,000,000'' and all that follows +through the second sentence and inserting ``$15,361,000,000 to accompany +the allotment made for the period beginning on October 1, 2014, and +ending on March 31, 2015, under section 2104(a)(18)(A) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397dd(a)(18)(A)), to remain available until +expended. Such <> amount shall be used to provide +allotments to States under paragraph (3) of section 2104(m) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397dd(m)) for the first 6 months of +fiscal year 2015 in the same manner as allotments are provided under +subsection (a)(18)(A) of such section 2104 and subject to the same terms +and conditions as apply to the allotments provided from such subsection +(a)(18)(A).''. + + PART II--SUPPORT FOR PREGNANT AND PARENTING TEENS AND WOMEN + +SEC. <> 10211. DEFINITIONS. + + In this part: + (1) Accompaniment.--The term ``accompaniment'' means + assisting, representing, and accompanying a woman in seeking + judicial relief for child support, child custody, restraining + orders, and restitution for harm to persons and property, and in + filing criminal charges, and may include the payment of court + costs and reasonable attorney and witness fees associated + therewith. + (2) Eligible institution of higher education.--The term + ``eligible institution of higher education'' means an + institution of higher education (as such term is defined in + section 101 of the Higher Education Act of 1965 (20 U.S.C. + 1001)) that has established and operates, or agrees to establish + and operate upon the receipt of a grant under this part, a + pregnant and parenting student services office. + (3) Community service center.--The term ``community service + center'' means a non-profit organization that provides social + services to residents of a specific geographical area via direct + service or by contract with a local governmental agency. + (4) High school.--The term ``high school'' means any public + or private school that operates grades 10 through 12, inclusive, + grades 9 through 12, inclusive or grades 7 through 12, + inclusive. + (5) Intervention services.--The term ``intervention + services'' means, with respect to domestic violence, sexual + violence, sexual assault, or stalking, 24-hour telephone hotline + services for police protection and referral to shelters. + (6) Secretary.--The term ``Secretary'' means the Secretary + of Health and Human Services. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 932]] + + (7) State.--The term ``State'' includes the District of + Columbia, any commonwealth, possession, or other territory of + the United States, and any Indian tribe or reservation. + (8) Supportive social services.--The term ``supportive + social services'' means transitional and permanent housing, + vocational counseling, and individual and group counseling aimed + at preventing domestic violence, sexual violence, sexual + assault, or stalking. + (9) Violence.--The term ``violence'' means actual violence + and the risk or threat of violence. + +SEC. 10212. <> ESTABLISHMENT OF PREGNANCY + ASSISTANCE FUND. + + (a) In General.--The Secretary, in collaboration and coordination +with the Secretary of Education (as appropriate), shall establish a +Pregnancy Assistance Fund to be administered by the Secretary, for the +purpose of awarding competitive grants to States to assist pregnant and +parenting teens and women. + (b) Use of Fund.--A State may apply for a grant under subsection (a) +to carry out any activities provided for in section 10213. + (c) Applications.--To be eligible to receive a grant under +subsection (a), a State shall submit to the Secretary an application at +such time, in such manner, and containing such information as the +Secretary may require, including a description of the purposes for which +the grant is being requested and the designation of a State agency for +receipt and administration of funding received under this part. + +SEC. 10213. <> PERMISSIBLE USES OF FUND. + + (a) In General.--A State shall use amounts received under a grant +under section 10212 for the purposes described in this section to assist +pregnant and parenting teens and women. + (b) Institutions of Higher Education.-- + (1) In general.--A State may use amounts received under a + grant under section 10212 to make funding available to eligible + institutions of higher education to enable the eligible + institutions to establish, maintain, or operate pregnant and + parenting student services. Such funding shall be used to + supplement, not supplant, existing funding for such services. + (2) Application.--An eligible institution of higher + education that desires to receive funding under this subsection + shall submit an application to the designated State agency at + such time, in such manner, and containing such information as + the State agency may require. + (3) Matching requirement.--An eligible institution of higher + education that receives funding under this subsection shall + contribute to the conduct of the pregnant and parenting student + services office supported by the funding an amount from non- + Federal funds equal to 25 percent of the amount of the funding + provided. The non-Federal share may be in cash or in-kind, + fairly evaluated, including services, facilities, supplies, or + equipment. + (4) Use of funds for assisting pregnant and parenting + college students.--An eligible institution of higher education + that receives funding under this subsection shall use such funds + to establish, maintain or operate pregnant and parenting student + services and may use such funding for the following programs and + activities: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 933]] + + (A) Conduct a needs assessment on campus and within + the local community-- + (i) to assess pregnancy and parenting + resources, located on the campus or within the + local community, that are available to meet the + needs described in subparagraph (B); and + (ii) to set goals for-- + (I) improving such resources for + pregnant, parenting, and prospective + parenting students; and + (II) improving access to such + resources. + (B) Annually assess the performance of the eligible + institution in meeting the following needs of students + enrolled in the eligible institution who are pregnant or + are parents: + (i) The inclusion of maternity coverage and + the availability of riders for additional family + members in student health care. + (ii) Family housing. + (iii) Child care. + (iv) Flexible or alternative academic + scheduling, such as telecommuting programs, to + enable pregnant or parenting students to continue + their education or stay in school. + (v) Education to improve parenting skills for + mothers and fathers and to strengthen marriages. + (vi) Maternity and baby clothing, baby food + (including formula), baby furniture, and similar + items to assist parents and prospective parents in + meeting the material needs of their children. + (vii) Post-partum counseling. + (C) Identify public and private service providers, + located on the campus of the eligible institution or + within the local community, that are qualified to meet + the needs described in subparagraph (B), and establishes + programs with qualified providers to meet such needs. + (D) Assist pregnant and parenting students, fathers + or spouses in locating and obtaining services that meet + the needs described in subparagraph (B). + (E) If appropriate, provide referrals for prenatal + care and delivery, infant or foster care, or adoption, + to a student who requests such information. An office + shall make such referrals only to service providers that + serve the following types of individuals: + (i) Parents. + (ii) Prospective parents awaiting adoption. + (iii) Women who are pregnant and plan on + parenting or placing the child for adoption. + (iv) Parenting or prospective parenting + couples. + (5) Reporting.-- + (A) Annual report by institutions.-- + (i) In general.--For each fiscal year that an + eligible institution of higher education receives + funds under this subsection, the eligible + institution shall prepare and submit to the State, + by the date determined by the State, a report + that-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 934]] + + (I) itemizes the pregnant and + parenting student services office's + expenditures for the fiscal year; + (II) contains a review and + evaluation of the performance of the + office in fulfilling the requirements of + this section, using the specific + performance criteria or standards + established under subparagraph (B)(i); + and + (III) describes the achievement of + the office in meeting the needs listed + in paragraph (4)(B) of the students + served by the eligible institution, and + the frequency of use of the office by + such students. + (ii) Performance criteria.-- + <> Not later than 180 days before + the date the annual report described in clause (i) + is submitted, the State-- + (I) shall identify the specific + performance criteria or standards that + shall be used to prepare the report; and + (II) may establish the form or + format of the report. + (B) Report by state.--The State shall annually + prepare and submit a report on the findings under this + subsection, including the number of eligible + institutions of higher education that were awarded funds + and the number of students served by each pregnant and + parenting student services office receiving funds under + this section, to the Secretary. + + (c) Support for Pregnant and Parenting Teens.--A State may use +amounts received under a grant under section 10212 to make funding +available to eligible high schools and community service centers to +establish, maintain or operate pregnant and parenting services in the +same general manner and in accordance with all conditions and +requirements described in subsection (b), except that paragraph (3) of +such subsection shall not apply for purposes of this subsection. + (d) Improving Services for Pregnant Women Who Are Victims of +Domestic Violence, Sexual Violence, Sexual Assault, and Stalking.-- + (1) In general.--A State may use amounts received under a + grant under section 10212 to make funding available tp its State + Attorney General to assist Statewide offices in providing-- + (A) intervention services, accompaniment, and + supportive social services for eligible pregnant women + who are victims of domestic violence, sexual violence, + sexual assault, or stalking. + (B) technical assistance and training (as described + in subsection (c)) relating to violence against eligible + pregnant women to be made available to the following: + (i) Federal, State, tribal, territorial, and + local governments, law enforcement agencies, and + courts. + (ii) Professionals working in legal, social + service, and health care settings. + (iii) Nonprofit organizations. + (iv) Faith-based organizations. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 935]] + + (2) Eligibility.--To be eligible for a grant under paragraph + (1), a State Attorney General shall submit an application to the + designated State agency at such time, in such manner, and + containing such information, as specified by the State. + (3) Technical assistance and training described.--For + purposes of paragraph (1)(B), technical assistance and training + is-- + (A) the identification of eligible pregnant women + experiencing domestic violence, sexual violence, sexual + assault, or stalking; + (B) the assessment of the immediate and short-term + safety of such a pregnant woman, the evaluation of the + impact of the violence or stalking on the pregnant + woman's health, and the assistance of the pregnant woman + in developing a plan aimed at preventing further + domestic violence, sexual violence, sexual assault, or + stalking, as appropriate; + (C) the maintenance of complete medical or forensic + records that include the documentation of any + examination, treatment given, and referrals made, + recording the location and nature of the pregnant + woman's injuries, and the establishment of mechanisms to + ensure the privacy and confidentiality of those medical + records; and + (D) the identification and referral of the pregnant + woman to appropriate public and private nonprofit + entities that provide intervention services, + accompaniment, and supportive social services. + (4) <> Eligible pregnant woman.--In this + subsection, the term ``eligible pregnant woman'' means any woman + who is pregnant on the date on which such woman becomes a victim + of domestic violence, sexual violence, sexual assault, or + stalking or who was pregnant during the one-year period before + such date. + + (e) Public Awareness and Education.--A State may use amounts +received under a grant under section 10212 to make funding available to +increase public awareness and education concerning any services +available to pregnant and parenting teens and women under this part, or +any other resources available to pregnant and parenting women in keeping +with the intent and purposes of this part. <> The +State shall be responsible for setting guidelines or limits as to how +much of funding may be utilized for public awareness and education in +any funding award. + +SEC. 10214. <> APPROPRIATIONS. + + There is authorized to be appropriated, and there are appropriated, +$25,000,000 for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2019, to carry out +this part. + + PART III--INDIAN HEALTH CARE IMPROVEMENT + +SEC. 10221. INDIAN HEALTH CARE IMPROVEMENT. + + (a) In General. <> --Except as provided in subsection (b), S. 1790 entitled ``A bill +to amend the Indian Health Care Improvement Act to revise and extend +that Act, and for other purposes.'', as reported by the Committee on +Indian Affairs of the Senate in December 2009, is enacted into law. + + (b) Amendments.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 936]] + + (1) Section 119 of the Indian Health Care Improvement Act + (as amended by section 111 of the bill referred to in subsection + (a)) <> is amended-- + (A) in subsection (d)-- + (i) in paragraph (2), by striking ``In + establishing'' and inserting ``Subject to + paragraphs (3) and (4), in establishing''; and + (ii) by adding at the end the following: + ``(3) Election of indian tribe or tribal organization.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subparagraph (B) of paragraph (2) + shall not apply in the case of an election made by an + Indian tribe or tribal organization located in a State + (other than Alaska) in which the use of dental health + aide therapist services or midlevel dental health + provider services is authorized under State law to + supply such services in accordance with State law. + ``(B) Action by secretary.--On an election by an + Indian tribe or tribal organization under subparagraph + (A), the Secretary, acting through the Service, shall + facilitate implementation of the services elected. + ``(4) Vacancies.--The Secretary shall not fill any vacancy + for a certified dentist in a program operated by the Service + with a dental health aide therapist.''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(e) Effect of Section.--Nothing in this section shall restrict the +ability of the Service, an Indian tribe, or a tribal organization to +participate in any program or to provide any service authorized by any +other Federal law.''. + (2) The Indian Health Care Improvement Act (as amended by + section 134(b) of the bill referred to in subsection <> (a)) is amended by striking section 125 (relating + to treatment of scholarships for certain purposes). + (3) Section 806 of the Indian Health Care Improvement Act + (25 U.S.C. 1676) is amended-- + (A) by striking ``Any limitation'' and inserting the + following: + + ``(a) HHS Appropriations.--Any limitation''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(b) Limitations Pursuant to Other Federal Law.-- +<> Any limitation pursuant to other +Federal laws on the use of Federal funds appropriated to the Service +shall apply with respect to the performance or coverage of abortions.''. + (4) The bill referred to in subsection (a) <> is amended by striking section 201. + + Subtitle C--Provisions Relating to Title III + +SEC. 10301. PLANS FOR A VALUE-BASED PURCHASING PROGRAM FOR AMBULATORY + SURGICAL CENTERS. + + (a) In General.--Section 3006 is amended by adding at the end the +following new subsection: + ``(f) Ambulatory Surgical Centers.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall develop a plan to + implement a value-based purchasing program for payments under + the Medicare program under title XVIII of the Social + +[[Page 124 STAT. 937]] + + Security Act for ambulatory surgical centers (as described in + section 1833(i) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395l(i))). + ``(2) Details.--In developing the plan under paragraph (1), + the Secretary shall consider the following issues: + ``(A) The ongoing development, selection, and + modification process for measures (including under + section 1890 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395aaa) and section 1890A of such Act, as added by + section 3014), to the extent feasible and practicable, + of all dimensions of quality and efficiency in + ambulatory surgical centers. + ``(B) The reporting, collection, and validation of + quality data. + ``(C) The structure of value-based payment + adjustments, including the determination of thresholds + or improvements in quality that would substantiate a + payment adjustment, the size of such payments, and the + sources of funding for the value-based bonus payments. + ``(D) Methods for the public disclosure of + information on the performance of ambulatory surgical + centers. + ``(E) Any other issues determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + ``(3) Consultation.--In developing the plan under paragraph + (1), the Secretary shall-- + ``(A) consult with relevant affected parties; and + ``(B) consider experience with such demonstrations + that the Secretary determines are relevant to the value- + based purchasing program described in paragraph (1). + ``(4) Report to congress.--Not later than January 1, 2011, + the Secretary shall submit to Congress a report containing the + plan developed under paragraph (1).''. + + (b) Technical.--Section 3006(a)(2)(A) is amended by striking clauses +(i) and (ii). + +SEC. 10302. REVISION TO NATIONAL STRATEGY FOR QUALITY IMPROVEMENT IN + HEALTH CARE. + + Section 399HH(a)(2)(B)(iii) of the Public Health Service Act, as +added by section 3011, <> is amended by inserting +``(taking into consideration the limitations set forth in subsections +(c) and (d) of section 1182 of the Social Security Act)'' after +``information''. + +SEC. 10303. DEVELOPMENT OF OUTCOME MEASURES. + + (a) Development.--Section 931 of the Public Health Service Act, as +added by section 3013(a), <> is amended by adding +at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(f) Development of Outcome Measures.-- + ``(1) In general. <> --The Secretary shall + develop, and periodically update (not less than every 3 years), + provider-level outcome measures for hospitals and physicians, as + well as other providers as determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + ``(2) Categories of measures.--The measures developed under + this subsection shall include, to the extent determined + appropriate by the Secretary-- + ``(A) outcome measurement for acute and chronic + diseases, including, to the extent feasible, the 5 most + prevalent and resource-intensive acute and chronic + medical conditions; and + ``(B) outcome measurement for primary and + preventative care, including, to the extent feasible, + measurements + +[[Page 124 STAT. 938]] + + that cover provision of such care for distinct patient + populations (such as healthy children, chronically ill + adults, or infirm elderly individuals). + ``(3) Goals.--In developing such measures, the Secretary + shall seek to-- + ``(A) address issues regarding risk adjustment, + accountability, and sample size; + ``(B) include the full scope of services that + comprise a cycle of care; and + ``(C) include multiple dimensions. + ``(4) Timeframe.-- + ``(A) Acute and chronic diseases.--Not later than 24 + months after the date of enactment of this Act, the + Secretary shall develop not less than 10 measures + described in paragraph (2)(A). + ``(B) Primary and preventive care.--Not later than + 36 months after the date of enactment of this Act, the + Secretary shall develop not less than 10 measures + described in paragraph (2)(B).''. + + (b) Hospital-acquired Conditions.--Section 1890A of the Social +Security Act, as amended by section 3013(b), <> is amended by adding at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(f) Hospital Acquired Conditions. <> -- +The Secretary shall, to the extent practicable, publicly report on +measures for hospital-acquired conditions that are currently utilized by +the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services for the adjustment of the +amount of payment to hospitals based on rates of hospital-acquired +infections.''. + + (c) Clinical Practice Guidelines.--Section 304(b) of the Medicare +Improvements for Patients and Providers Act of 2008 (Public Law 110- +275) <> is amended by adding at the end the +following new paragraph: + ``(4) Identification.-- + ``(A) In general. <> -- + Following receipt of the report submitted under + paragraph (2), and not less than every 3 years + thereafter, the Secretary shall contract with the + Institute to employ the results of the study performed + under paragraph (1) and the best methods identified by + the Institute for the purpose of identifying existing + and new clinical practice guidelines that were developed + using such best methods, including guidelines listed in + the National Guideline Clearinghouse. + ``(B) Consultation.--In carrying out the + identification process under subparagraph (A), the + Secretary shall allow for consultation with professional + societies, voluntary health care organizations, and + expert panels.''. + +SEC. 10304. SELECTION OF EFFICIENCY MEASURES. + + Sections 1890(b)(7) and 1890A of the Social Security Act, as added +by section 3014, <> are amended by +striking ``quality'' each place it appears and inserting ``quality and +efficiency''. + +SEC. 10305. DATA COLLECTION; PUBLIC REPORTING. + + Section 399II(a) of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 3015 <> , is amended to read as follows: + + ``(a) In General.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 939]] + + ``(1) Establishment of strategic framework.--The Secretary + shall establish and implement an overall strategic framework to + carry out the public reporting of performance information, as + described in section 399JJ. Such strategic framework may include + methods and related timelines for implementing nationally + consistent data collection, data aggregation, and analysis + methods. + ``(2) Collection and aggregation of data.--The Secretary + shall collect and aggregate consistent data on quality and + resource use measures from information systems used to support + health care delivery, and may award grants or contracts for this + purpose. The Secretary shall align such collection and + aggregation efforts with the requirements and assistance + regarding the expansion of health information technology + systems, the interoperability of such technology systems, and + related standards that are in effect on the date of enactment of + the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act. + ``(3) Scope.--The Secretary shall ensure that the data + collection, data aggregation, and analysis systems described in + paragraph (1) involve an increasingly broad range of patient + populations, providers, and geographic areas over time.''. + +SEC. 10306. IMPROVEMENTS UNDER THE CENTER FOR MEDICARE AND MEDICAID + INNOVATION. + + Section 1115A of the Social Security Act, as added by section +3021, <> is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a), by inserting at the end the following + new paragraph: + ``(5) Testing within certain geographic areas.--For purposes + of testing payment and service delivery models under this + section, the Secretary may elect to limit testing of a model to + certain geographic areas.''; + (2) in subsection (b)(2)-- + (A) in subparagraph (A)-- + (i) in the second sentence, by striking ``the + preceding sentence may include'' and inserting + ``this subparagraph may include, but are not + limited to,''; and + (ii) by inserting after the first sentence the + following new sentence: ``The Secretary shall + focus on models expected to reduce program costs + under the applicable title while preserving or + enhancing the quality of care received by + individuals receiving benefits under such + title.''; + (B) in subparagraph (B), by adding at the end the + following new clauses: + ``(xix) Utilizing, in particular in entities + located in medically underserved areas and + facilities of the Indian Health Service (whether + operated by such Service or by an Indian tribe or + tribal organization (as those terms are defined in + section 4 of the Indian Health Care Improvement + Act)), telehealth services-- + ``(I) in treating behavioral health + issues (such as post-traumatic stress + disorder) and stroke; and + ``(II) to improve the capacity of + non-medical providers and non- + specialized medical providers to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 940]] + + provide health services for patients + with chronic complex conditions. + ``(xx) Utilizing a diverse network of + providers of services and suppliers to improve + care coordination for applicable individuals + described in subsection (a)(4)(A)(i) with 2 or + more chronic conditions and a history of prior- + year hospitalization through interventions + developed under the Medicare Coordinated Care + Demonstration Project under section 4016 of the + Balanced Budget Act of 1997 (42 U.S.C. 1395b-1 + note).''; and + (C) in subparagraph (C), by adding at the end the + following new clause: + ``(viii) Whether the model demonstrates + effective linkage with other public sector or + private sector payers.''; + (3) in subsection (b)(4), by adding at the end the following + new subparagraph: + ``(C) Measure selection.--To the extent feasible, + the Secretary shall select measures under this paragraph + that reflect national priorities for quality improvement + and patient-centered care consistent with the measures + described in 1890(b)(7)(B).''; and + (4) in subsection (c)-- + (A) in paragraph (1)(B), by striking ``care and + reduce spending; and'' and inserting ``patient care + without increasing spending;''; + (B) in paragraph (2), by striking ``reduce program + spending under applicable titles.'' and inserting + ``reduce (or would not result in any increase in) net + program spending under applicable titles; and''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + ``(3) <> the Secretary determines that + such expansion would not deny or limit the coverage or provision + of benefits under the applicable title for applicable + individuals. + +In determining which models or demonstration projects to expand under +the preceding sentence, the Secretary shall focus on models and +demonstration projects that improve the quality of patient care and +reduce spending.''. + +SEC. 10307. IMPROVEMENTS TO THE MEDICARE SHARED SAVINGS PROGRAM. + + Section 1899 of the Social Security Act, as added by section +3022, <> is amended by adding at the end the +following new subsections: + + ``(i) Option To Use Other Payment Models.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> If the + Secretary determines appropriate, the Secretary may use any of + the payment models described in paragraph (2) or (3) for making + payments under the program rather than the payment model + described in subsection (d). + ``(2) Partial capitation model.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), a + model described in this paragraph is a partial + capitation model in which an ACO is at financial risk + for some, but not all, of the items and services covered + under parts A and B, such as at risk for some or all + physicians' services or all items and services under + part B. The Secretary + +[[Page 124 STAT. 941]] + + may limit a partial capitation model to ACOs that are + highly integrated systems of care and to ACOs capable of + bearing risk, as determined to be appropriate by the + Secretary. + ``(B) <> No additional program + expenditures.--Payments to an ACO for items and services + under this title for beneficiaries for a year under the + partial capitation model shall be established in a + manner that does not result in spending more for such + ACO for such beneficiaries than would otherwise be + expended for such ACO for such beneficiaries for such + year if the model were not implemented, as estimated by + the Secretary. + ``(3) Other payment models.-- + ``(A) <> In general.--Subject + to subparagraph (B), a model described in this paragraph + is any payment model that the Secretary determines will + improve the quality and efficiency of items and services + furnished under this title. + ``(B) <> No additional program + expenditures.--Subparagraph (B) of paragraph (2) shall + apply to a payment model under subparagraph (A) in a + similar manner as such subparagraph (B) applies to the + payment model under paragraph (2). + + ``(j) Involvement in Private Payer and Other Third Party +Arrangements.--The Secretary may give preference to ACOs who are +participating in similar arrangements with other payers. + ``(k) Treatment of Physician Group Practice Demonstration.-- +<> During the period beginning on the +date of the enactment of this section and ending on the date the program +is established, the Secretary may enter into an agreement with an ACO +under the demonstration under section 1866A, subject to rebasing and +other modifications deemed appropriate by the Secretary.''. + +SEC. 10308. REVISIONS TO NATIONAL PILOT PROGRAM ON PAYMENT BUNDLING. + + (a) In General.--Section 1866D of the Social Security Act, as added +by section 3023, <> is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (a)(2)(B), in the matter preceding clause + (i), by striking ``8 conditions'' and inserting ``10 + conditions''; + (2) by striking subsection (c)(1)(B) and inserting the + following: + ``(B) Expansion.-- <> The + Secretary may, at any point after January 1, 2016, + expand the duration and scope of the pilot program, to + the extent determined appropriate by the Secretary, if-- + ``(i) the Secretary determines that such + expansion is expected to-- + ``(I) reduce spending under title + XVIII of the Social Security Act without + reducing the quality of care; or + ``(II) improve the quality of care + and reduce spending; + ``(ii) <> the Chief + Actuary of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid + Services certifies that such expansion would + reduce program spending under such title XVIII; + and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 942]] + + ``(iii) the Secretary determines that such + expansion would not deny or limit the coverage or + provision of benefits under this title for + individuals.''; and + (3) by striking subsection (g) and inserting the following + new subsection: + + ``(g) Application of Pilot Program to Continuing Care Hospitals.-- + ``(1) In general.--In conducting the pilot program, the + Secretary shall apply the provisions of the program so as to + separately pilot test the continuing care hospital model. + ``(2) Special rules.--In pilot testing the continuing care + hospital model under paragraph (1), the following rules shall + apply: + ``(A) Such model shall be tested without the + limitation to the conditions selected under subsection + (a)(2)(B). + ``(B) <> Notwithstanding + subsection (a)(2)(D), an episode of care shall be + defined as the full period that a patient stays in the + continuing care hospital plus the first 30 days + following discharge from such hospital. + ``(3) Continuing care hospital defined.--In this subsection, + the term `continuing care hospital' means an entity that has + demonstrated the ability to meet patient care and patient safety + standards and that provides under common management the medical + and rehabilitation services provided in inpatient rehabilitation + hospitals and units (as defined in section 1886(d)(1)(B)(ii)), + long term care hospitals (as defined in section + 1886(d)(1)(B)(iv)(I)), and skilled nursing facilities (as + defined in section 1819(a)) that are located in a hospital + described in section 1886(d).''. + + (b) Technical Amendments.-- + (1) Section 3023 <> is amended by + striking ``1886C'' and inserting ``1866C''. + (2) Title XVIII of the Social Security Act is amended by + redesignating section 1866D, as added by section + 3024, <> as section 1866E. + +SEC. 10309. REVISIONS TO HOSPITAL READMISSIONS REDUCTION PROGRAM. + + Section 1886(q)(1) of the Social Security Act, as added by section +3025, <> in the matter preceding subparagraph (A), +is amended by striking ``the Secretary shall reduce the payments'' and +all that follows through ``the product of'' and inserting ``the +Secretary shall make payments (in addition to the payments described in +paragraph (2)(A)(ii)) for such a discharge to such hospital under +subsection (d) (or section 1814(b)(3), as the case may be) in an amount +equal to the product of''. + +SEC. 10310. REPEAL OF PHYSICIAN PAYMENT UPDATE. + + The provisions of, and the amendment made by, <> section 3101 are repealed. + +SEC. 10311. REVISIONS TO EXTENSION OF AMBULANCE ADD-ONS. + + (a) Ground Ambulance.--Section 1834(l)(13)(A) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(l)(13)(A)), as amended by section 3105(a), is +further amended-- + (1) in the matter preceding clause (i)-- + (A) by striking ``2007, for'' and inserting ``2007, + and for''; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 943]] + + (B) by striking ``2010, and for such services + furnished on or after April 1, 2010, and before January + 1, 2011'' and inserting ``2011''; and + (2) in each of clauses (i) and (ii)-- + (A) by striking ``, and on or after April 1, 2010, + and before January 1, 2011'' each place it appears; and + (B) by striking ``January 1, 2010'' and inserting + ``January 1, 2011'' each place it appears. + + (b) Air Ambulance.--Section 146(b)(1) of the Medicare Improvements +for Patients and Providers Act of 2008 (Public Law 110-275), as amended +by section 3105(b), <> is further amended by +striking ``December 31, 2009, and during the period beginning on April +1, 2010, and ending on January 1, 2011'' and inserting ``December 31, +2010''. + + (c) Super Rural Ambulance.--Section 1834(l)(12)(A) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m(l)(12)(A)), as amended by section 3105(c), +is further amended by striking ``2010, and on or after April 1, 2010, +and before January 1, 2011'' and inserting ``2011''. + +SEC. 10312. CERTAIN PAYMENT RULES FOR LONG-TERM CARE HOSPITAL SERVICES + AND MORATORIUM ON THE ESTABLISHMENT OF CERTAIN HOSPITALS AND + FACILITIES. + + (a) Certain Payment Rules.--Section 114(c) of the Medicare, +Medicaid, and SCHIP Extension Act of 2007 (42 U.S.C. 1395ww note), as +amended by section 4302(a) of the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act +(Public Law 111-5) and section 3106(a) of this Act, is further amended +by striking ``4-year period'' each place it appears and inserting ``5- +year period''. + (b) Moratorium.--Section 114(d) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww note), +as amended by section 3106(b) of this Act, in the matter preceding +subparagraph (A), is amended by striking ``4-year period'' and inserting +``5-year period''. + +SEC. 10313. REVISIONS TO THE EXTENSION FOR THE RURAL COMMUNITY HOSPITAL + DEMONSTRATION PROGRAM. + + (a) In General.--Subsection (g) of section 410A of the Medicare +Prescription Drug, Improvement, and Modernization Act of 2003 (Public +Law 108-173; 117 Stat. 2272), as added by section 3123(a) of this +Act, <> is amended to read as follows: + + ``(g) Five-Year Extension of Demonstration Program.-- + ``(1) In general.--Subject to the succeeding provisions of + this subsection, the Secretary shall conduct the demonstration + program under this section for an additional 5-year period (in + this section referred to as the `5-year extension period') that + begins on the date immediately following the last day of the + initial 5-year period under subsection (a)(5). + ``(2) <> Expansion of demonstration + states.--Notwithstanding subsection (a)(2), during the 5-year + extension period, the Secretary shall expand the number of + States with low population densities determined by the Secretary + under such subsection to 20. <> In determining + which States to include in such expansion, the Secretary shall + use the same criteria and data that the Secretary used to + determine the States under such subsection for purposes of the + initial 5-year period. + ``(3) Increase in maximum number of hospitals participating + in the demonstration program.--Notwithstanding subsection + (a)(4), during the 5-year extension period, not more + +[[Page 124 STAT. 944]] + + than 30 rural community hospitals may participate in the + demonstration program under this section. + ``(4) Hospitals in demonstration program on date of + enactment.--In the case of a rural community hospital that is + participating in the demonstration program under this section as + of the last day of the initial 5-year period, the Secretary-- + ``(A) shall provide for the continued participation + of such rural community hospital in the demonstration + program during the 5-year extension period unless the + rural community hospital makes an election, in such form + and manner as the Secretary may specify, to discontinue + such participation; and + ``(B) in calculating the amount of payment under + subsection (b) to the rural community hospital for + covered inpatient hospital services furnished by the + hospital during such 5-year extension period, shall + substitute, under paragraph (1)(A) of such subsection-- + ``(i) the reasonable costs of providing such + services for discharges occurring in the first + cost reporting period beginning on or after the + first day of the 5-year extension period, for + ``(ii) the reasonable costs of providing such + services for discharges occurring in the first + cost reporting period beginning on or after the + implementation of the demonstration program.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendments.--Subsection (a)(5) of section 410A of the +Medicare Prescription Drug, Improvement, and Modernization Act of 2003 +(Public Law 108-173; 117 Stat. 2272), as amended by section 3123(b) of +this Act, is amended by striking ``1-year extension'' and inserting ``5- +year extension''. + +SEC. 10314. ADJUSTMENT TO LOW-VOLUME HOSPITAL PROVISION. + + Section 1886(d)(12) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395ww(d)(12), as amended by section 3125, is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (C)(i), by striking ``1,500 discharges'' + and inserting ``1,600 discharges''; and + (2) in subparagraph (D), by striking ``1,500 discharges'' + and inserting ``1,600 discharges''. + +SEC. 10315. REVISIONS TO HOME HEALTH CARE PROVISIONS. + + (a) Rebasing.--Section 1895(b)(3)(A)(iii) of the Social Security +Act, as added by section 3131, <> is amended-- + (1) in the clause heading, by striking ``2013'' and + inserting ``2014''; + (2) in subclause (I), by striking ``2013'' and inserting + ``2014''; and + (3) in subclause (II), by striking ``2016'' and inserting + ``2017''. + + (b) <> Revision of Home Health Study and +Report.--Section 3131(d) is amended to read as follows: + + ``(d) Study and Report on the Development of Home Health Payment +Revisions in Order to Ensure Access to Care and Payment for Severity of +Illness.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary of Health and Human + Services (in this section referred to as the `Secretary') shall + conduct a study on home health agency costs involved with + +[[Page 124 STAT. 945]] + + providing ongoing access to care to low-income Medicare + beneficiaries or beneficiaries in medically underserved areas, + and in treating beneficiaries with varying levels of severity of + illness. In conducting the study, the Secretary may analyze + items such as the following: + ``(A) Methods to potentially revise the home health + prospective payment system under section 1895 of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395fff) to account for + costs related to patient severity of illness or to + improving beneficiary access to care, such as-- + ``(i) payment adjustments for services that + may involve additional or fewer resources; + ``(ii) changes to reflect resources involved + with providing home health services to low-income + Medicare beneficiaries or Medicare beneficiaries + residing in medically underserved areas; + ``(iii) ways outlier payments might be revised + to reflect costs of treating Medicare + beneficiaries with high levels of severity of + illness; and + ``(iv) other issues determined appropriate by + the Secretary. + ``(B) Operational issues involved with potential + implementation of potential revisions to the home health + payment system, including impacts for both home health + agencies and administrative and systems issues for the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, and any + possible payment vulnerabilities associated with + implementing potential revisions. + ``(C) Whether additional research might be needed. + ``(D) Other items determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + ``(2) Considerations.--In conducting the study under + paragraph (1), the Secretary may consider whether patient + severity of illness and access to care could be measured by + factors, such as-- + ``(A) population density and relative patient access + to care; + ``(B) variations in service costs for providing care + to individuals who are dually eligible under the + Medicare and Medicaid programs; + ``(C) the presence of severe or chronic diseases, + which might be measured by multiple, discontinuous home + health episodes; + ``(D) poverty status, such as evidenced by the + receipt of Supplemental Security Income under title XVI + of the Social Security Act; and + ``(E) other factors determined appropriate by the + Secretary. + ``(3) Report.--Not later than March 1, 2014, the Secretary + shall submit to Congress a report on the study conducted under + paragraph (1), together with recommendations for such + legislation and administrative action as the Secretary + determines appropriate. + ``(4) Consultations.--In conducting the study under + paragraph (1), the Secretary shall consult with appropriate + stakeholders, such as groups representing home health agencies + and groups representing Medicare beneficiaries. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 946]] + + ``(5) Medicare demonstration project based on the results of + the study.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (D), + taking into account the results of the study conducted + under paragraph (1), the Secretary may, as determined + appropriate, provide for a demonstration project to test + whether making payment adjustments for home health + services under the Medicare program would substantially + improve access to care for patients with high severity + levels of illness or for low-income or underserved + Medicare beneficiaries. + ``(B) Waiving budget neutrality.--The Secretary + shall not reduce the standard prospective payment amount + (or amounts) under section 1895 of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395fff) applicable to home health + services furnished during a period to offset any + increase in payments during such period resulting from + the application of the payment adjustments under + subparagraph (A). + ``(C) No effect on subsequent periods.--A payment + adjustment resulting from the application of + subparagraph (A) for a period-- + ``(i) shall not apply to payments for home + health services under title XVIII after such + period; and + ``(ii) shall not be taken into account in + calculating the payment amounts applicable for + such services after such period. + ``(D) <> Duration.--If the + Secretary determines it appropriate to conduct the + demonstration project under this subsection, the + Secretary shall conduct the project for a four year + period beginning not later than January 1, 2015. + ``(E) Funding.--The Secretary shall provide for the + transfer from the Federal Hospital Insurance Trust Fund + under section 1817 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. + 1395i) and the Federal Supplementary Medical Insurance + Trust Fund established under section 1841 of such Act + (42 U.S.C. 1395t), in such proportion as the Secretary + determines appropriate, of $500,000,000 for the period + of fiscal years 2015 through 2018. Such funds shall be + made available for the study described in paragraph (1) + and the design, implementation and evaluation of the + demonstration described in this paragraph. Amounts + available under this subparagraph shall be available + until expended. + ``(F) Evaluation and report.--If the Secretary + determines it appropriate to conduct the demonstration + project under this subsection, the Secretary shall-- + ``(i) provide for an evaluation of the + project; and + ``(ii) submit to Congress, by a date specified + by the Secretary, a report on the project. + ``(G) Administration.--Chapter 35 of title 44, + United States Code, shall not apply with respect to this + subsection.''. + +SEC. 10316. MEDICARE DSH. + + Section 1886(r)(2)(B) of the Social Security Act, as added by +section 3133, <> is amended-- + (1) in clause (i)-- + (A) in the matter preceding subclause (I), by + striking ``(divided by 100)''; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 947]] + + (B) in subclause (I), by striking ``2012'' and + inserting ``2013''; + (C) in subclause (II), by striking the period at the + end and inserting a comma; and + (D) by adding at the end the following flush matter: + ``minus 1.5 percentage points.''. + (2) in clause (ii)-- + (A) in the matter preceding subclause (I), by + striking ``(divided by 100)''; + (B) in subclause (I), by striking ``2012'' and + inserting ``2013''; + (C) in subclause (II), by striking the period at the + end and inserting a comma; and + (D) by adding at the end the following flush matter: + ``and, for each of 2018 and 2019, minus 1.5 + percentage points.''. + +SEC. 10317. <> REVISIONS TO EXTENSION OF + SECTION 508 HOSPITAL PROVISIONS. + + Section 3137(a) is amended to read as follows: + ``(a) Extension.-- + ``(1) In general.--Subsection (a) of section 106 of division + B of the Tax Relief and Health Care Act of 2006 (42 U.S.C. 1395 + note), as amended by section 117 of the Medicare, Medicaid, and + SCHIP Extension Act of 2007 (Public Law 110-173) and section 124 + of the Medicare Improvements for Patients and Providers Act of + 2008 (Public Law 110-275), is amended by striking `September 30, + 2009' and inserting `September 30, 2010'. + ``(2) Special rule for fiscal year 2010.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), for + purposes of implementation of the amendment made by + paragraph (1), including (notwithstanding paragraph (3) + of section 117(a) of the Medicare, Medicaid and SCHIP + Extension Act of 2007 (Public Law 110-173), as amended + by section 124(b) of the Medicare Improvements for + Patients and Providers Act of 2008 (Public Law 110-275)) + for purposes of the implementation of paragraph (2) of + such section 117(a), during fiscal year 2010, the + Secretary of Health and Human Services (in this + subsection referred to as the `Secretary') shall use the + hospital wage index that was promulgated by the + Secretary in the Federal Register on August 27, 2009 (74 + Fed. Reg. 43754), and any subsequent corrections. + ``(B) <> Exception.-- + Beginning on April 1, 2010, in determining the wage + index applicable to hospitals that qualify for wage + index reclassification, the Secretary shall include the + average hourly wage data of hospitals whose + reclassification was extended pursuant to the amendment + made by paragraph (1) only if including such data + results in a higher applicable reclassified wage index. + ``(3) Adjustment for certain hospitals in fiscal year + 2010.-- + ``(A) In general.--In the case of a subsection (d) + hospital (as defined in subsection (d)(1)(B) of section + 1886 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww)) with + respect to which-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 948]] + + ``(i) a reclassification of its wage index for + purposes of such section was extended pursuant to + the amendment made by paragraph (1); and + ``(ii) <> the wage index + applicable for such hospital for the period + beginning on October 1, 2009, and ending on March + 31, 2010, was lower than for the period beginning + on April 1, 2010, and ending on September 30, + 2010, by reason of the application of paragraph + (2)(B); + the Secretary shall pay such hospital an additional + payment that reflects the difference between the wage + index for such periods. + ``(B) Timeframe for payments.--The Secretary shall + make payments required under subparagraph by not later + than December 31, 2010.''. + +SEC. 10318. REVISIONS TO TRANSITIONAL EXTRA BENEFITS UNDER MEDICARE + ADVANTAGE. + + Section 1853(p)(3)(A) of the Social Security Act, as added by +section 3201(h), <> is amended by inserting ``in +2009'' before the period at the end. + +SEC. 10319. REVISIONS TO MARKET BASKET ADJUSTMENTS. + + (a) Inpatient Acute Hospitals.--Section 1886(b)(3)(B)(xii) of the +Social Security Act, as added by section 3401(a), <> is amended-- + (1) in subclause (I), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) by redesignating subclause (II) as subclause (III); + (3) by inserting after subclause (II) the following new + subclause: + ``(II) for each of fiscal years 2012 and 2013, by 0.1 + percentage point; and''; and + (4) in subclause (III), as redesignated by paragraph (2), by + striking ``2012'' and inserting ``2014''. + + (b) Long-term Care Hospitals.--Section 1886(m)(4) of the Social +Security Act, as added by section 3401(c), is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A)-- + (A) in clause (i)-- + (i) by striking ``each of rate years 2010 and + 2011'' and inserting ``rate year 2010''; and + (ii) by striking ``and'' at the end; + (B) by redesignating clause (ii) as clause (iv); + (C) by inserting after clause (i) the following new + clauses: + ``(ii) for rate year 2011, 0.50 percentage + point; + ``(iii) for each of the rate years beginning + in 2012 and 2013, 0.1 percentage point; and''; and + (D) in clause (iv), as redesignated by subparagraph + (B), by striking ``2012'' and inserting ``2014''; and + (2) in subparagraph (B), by striking ``(A)(ii)'' and + inserting ``(A)(iv)''. + + (c) Inpatient Rehabilitation Facilities.--Section 1886(j)(3)(D)(i) +of the Social Security Act, as added by section 3401(d), is amended-- + (1) in subclause (I), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) by redesignating subclause (II) as subclause (III); + (3) by inserting after subclause (II) the following new + subclause: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 949]] + + ``(II) for each of fiscal years 2012 + and 2013, 0.1 percentage point; and''; + and + (4) in subclause (III), as redesignated by paragraph (2), by + striking ``2012'' and inserting ``2014''. + + (d) Home Health Agencies.--Section 1895(b)(3)(B)(vi)(II) of such +Act, as added by section 3401(e), <> is amended +by striking ``and 2012'' and inserting ``, 2012, and 2013''. + + (e) Psychiatric Hospitals.--Section 1886(s)(3)(A) of the Social +Security Act, as added by section 3401(f), <> is +amended-- + (1) in clause (i), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) by redesignating clause (ii) as clause (iii); + (3) by inserting after clause (ii) the following new clause: + ``(ii) for each of the rate years beginning in + 2012 and 2013, 0.1 percentage point; and''; and + (4) in clause (iii), as redesignated by paragraph (2), by + striking ``2012'' and inserting ``2014''. + + (f) Hospice Care.--Section 1814(i)(1)(C) of the Social Security Act +(42 U.S.C. 1395f(i)(1)(C)), as amended by section 3401(g), is amended-- + (1) in clause (iv)(II), by striking ``0.5'' and inserting + ``0.3''; and + (2) in clause (v), in the matter preceding subclause (I), by + striking ``0.5'' and inserting ``0.3''. + + (g) Outpatient Hospitals.--Section 1833(t)(3)(G)(i) of the Social +Security Act, as added by section 3401(i), <> is +amended-- + (1) in subclause (I), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) by redesignating subclause (II) as subclause (III); + (3) by inserting after subclause (II) the following new + subclause: + ``(II) for each of 2012 and 2013, + 0.1 percentage point; and''; and + (4) in subclause (III), as redesignated by paragraph (2), by + striking ``2012'' and inserting ``2014''. + +SEC. 10320. EXPANSION OF THE SCOPE OF, AND ADDITIONAL IMPROVEMENTS TO, + THE INDEPENDENT MEDICARE ADVISORY BOARD. + + (a) In General.--Section 1899A of the Social Security Act, as added +by section 3403, <> is amended-- + (1) in subsection (c)-- + (A) in paragraph (1)(B), by adding at the end the + following new sentence: <> ``In any year + (beginning with 2014) that the Board is not required to + submit a proposal under this section, the Board shall + submit to Congress an advisory report on matters related + to the Medicare program.''; + (B) in paragraph (2)(A)-- + (i) in clause (iv), by inserting ``or the full + premium subsidy under section 1860D-14(a)'' before + the period at the end of the last sentence; and + (ii) by adding at the end the following new + clause: + ``(vii) <> If the Chief + Actuary of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid + Services has made a determination described in + subsection (e)(3)(B)(i)(II) in the determination + year, the proposal shall be designed to help + reduce the growth rate described in paragraph (8) + while maintaining or enhancing beneficiary access + to quality care under this title.''; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 950]] + + (C) in paragraph (2)(B)-- + (i) in clause (v), by striking ``and'' at the + end; + (ii) in clause (vi), by striking the period at + the end and inserting ``; and''; and + (iii) by adding at the end the following new + clause: + ``(vii) take into account the data and + findings contained in the annual reports under + subsection (n) in order to develop proposals that + can most effectively promote the delivery of + efficient, high quality care to Medicare + beneficiaries.''; + (D) in paragraph (3)-- + (i) in the heading, by striking ``Transmission + of board proposal to president'' and inserting + ``Submission of board proposal to congress and the + president''; + (ii) in subparagraph (A)(i), by striking + ``transmit a proposal under this section to the + President'' and insert ``submit a proposal under + this section to Congress and the President''; and + (iii) in subparagraph (A)(ii)-- + (I) in subclause (I), by inserting + ``or'' at the end; + (II) in subclause (II), by striking + ``; or'' and inserting a period; and + (III) by striking subclause (III); + (E) in paragraph (4)-- + (i) by striking ``the Board under paragraph + (3)(A)(i) or''; and + (ii) by striking ``immediately'' and inserting + ``within 2 days''; + (F) in paragraph (5)-- + (i) by striking ``to but'' and inserting + ``but''; and + (ii) by inserting ``Congress and'' after + ``submit a proposal to''; and + (G) in paragraph (6)(B)(i), by striking ``per + unduplicated enrollee'' and inserting ``(calculated as + the sum of per capita spending under each of parts A, B, + and D)''; + (2) in subsection (d)-- + (A) in paragraph (1)(A)-- + (i) by inserting ``the Board or'' after ``a + proposal is submitted by''; and + (ii) by inserting ``subsection (c)(3)(A)(i) + or'' after ``the Senate under''; and + (B) in paragraph (2)(A), by inserting ``the Board + or'' after ``a proposal is submitted by''; + (3) in subsection (e)-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by inserting ``the Board or'' + after ``a proposal submitted by''; and + (B) in paragraph (3)-- + (i) by striking ``Exception.--The Secretary + shall not be required to implement the + recommendations contained in a proposal submitted + in a proposal year by'' and inserting + ``Exceptions.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall not implement + the recommendations contained in a proposal submitted in + a proposal year by the Board or''; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 951]] + + (ii) by redesignating subparagraphs (A) and + (B) as clauses (i) and (ii), respectively, and + indenting appropriately; and + (iii) by adding at the end the following new + subparagraph: + ``(B) Limited additional exception.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), the + Secretary shall not implement the recommendations + contained in a proposal submitted by the Board or + the President to Congress pursuant to this section + in a proposal year (beginning with proposal year + 2019) if-- + ``(I) the Board was required to + submit a proposal to Congress under this + section in the year preceding the + proposal year; and + ``(II) <> the + Chief Actuary of the Centers for + Medicare & Medicaid Services makes a + determination in the determination year + that the growth rate described in + subsection (c)(8) exceeds the growth + rate described in subsection + (c)(6)(A)(i). + ``(ii) Limited additional exception may not be + applied in two consecutive years.--This + subparagraph shall not apply if the + recommendations contained in a proposal submitted + by the Board or the President to Congress pursuant + to this section in the year preceding the proposal + year were not required to be implemented by reason + of this subparagraph. + ``(iii) No affect on requirement to submit + proposals or for congressional consideration of + proposals.--Clause (i) and (ii) shall not affect-- + ``(I) the requirement of the Board + or the President to submit a proposal to + Congress in a proposal year in + accordance with the provisions of this + section; or + ``(II) Congressional consideration + of a legislative proposal (described in + subsection (c)(3)(B)(iv)) contained such + a proposal in accordance with subsection + (d).''; + (4) in subsection (f)(3)(B)-- + (A) by striking ``or advisory reports to Congress'' + and inserting ``, advisory reports, or advisory + recommendations''; and + (B) by inserting ``or produce the public report + under subsection (n)'' after ``this section''; and + (5) by adding at the end the following new subsections: + + ``(n) Annual Public Report.-- + ``(1) In general.--Not later than July 1, 2014, and annually + thereafter, the Board shall produce a public report containing + standardized information on system-wide health care costs, + patient access to care, utilization, and quality-of-care that + allows for comparison by region, types of services, types of + providers, and both private payers and the program under this + title. + ``(2) Requirements.--Each report produced pursuant to + paragraph (1) shall include information with respect to the + following areas: + ``(A) The quality and costs of care for the + population at the most local level determined practical + by the Board + +[[Page 124 STAT. 952]] + + (with quality and costs compared to national benchmarks + and reflecting rates of change, taking into account + quality measures described in section 1890(b)(7)(B)). + ``(B) Beneficiary and consumer access to care, + patient and caregiver experience of care, and the cost- + sharing or out-of-pocket burden on patients. + ``(C) Epidemiological shifts and demographic + changes. + ``(D) The proliferation, effectiveness, and + utilization of health care technologies, including + variation in provider practice patterns and costs. + ``(E) Any other areas that the Board determines + affect overall spending and quality of care in the + private sector. + + ``(o) Advisory Recommendations for Non-Federal Health Care +Programs.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> Not later than + January 15, 2015, and at least once every two years thereafter, + the Board shall submit to Congress and the President + recommendations to slow the growth in national health + expenditures (excluding expenditures under this title and in + other Federal health care programs) while preserving or + enhancing quality of care, such as recommendations-- + ``(A) that the Secretary or other Federal agencies + can implement administratively; + ``(B) that may require legislation to be enacted by + Congress in order to be implemented; + ``(C) that may require legislation to be enacted by + State or local governments in order to be implemented; + ``(D) that private sector entities can voluntarily + implement; and + ``(E) with respect to other areas determined + appropriate by the Board. + ``(2) Coordination.--In making recommendations under + paragraph (1), the Board shall coordinate such recommendations + with recommendations contained in proposals and advisory reports + produced by the Board under subsection (c). + ``(3) Available to public.--The Board shall make + recommendations submitted to Congress and the President under + this subsection available to the public.''. + + (b) Name Change.-- <> Any reference +in the provisions of, or amendments made by, section 3403 to the +``Independent Medicare Advisory Board'' shall be deemed to be a +reference to the ``Independent Payment Advisory Board''. + + (c) Rule of Construction.-- <> Nothing +in the amendments made by this section shall preclude the Independent +Medicare Advisory Board, as established under section 1899A of the +Social Security Act (as added by section 3403), from solely using data +from public or private sources to carry out the amendments made by +subsection (a)(4). + +SEC. 10321. REVISION TO COMMUNITY HEALTH TEAMS. + + Section 3502(c)(2)(A) <> is amended by +inserting ``or other primary care providers'' after ``physicians''. + +SEC. 10322. QUALITY REPORTING FOR PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITALS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1886(s) of the Social Security Act, as +added by section 3401(f), <> is amended by adding +at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(4) Quality reporting.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 953]] + + ``(A) Reduction in update for failure to report.-- + ``(i) In general.--Under the system described + in paragraph (1), for rate year 2014 and each + subsequent rate year, in the case of a psychiatric + hospital or psychiatric unit that does not submit + data to the Secretary in accordance with + subparagraph (C) with respect to such a rate year, + any annual update to a standard Federal rate for + discharges for the hospital during the rate year, + and after application of paragraph (2), shall be + reduced by 2 percentage points. + ``(ii) Special rule.--The application of this + subparagraph may result in such annual update + being less than 0.0 for a rate year, and may + result in payment rates under the system described + in paragraph (1) for a rate year being less than + such payment rates for the preceding rate year. + ``(B) Noncumulative application.--Any reduction + under subparagraph (A) shall apply only with respect to + the rate year involved and the Secretary shall not take + into account such reduction in computing the payment + amount under the system described in paragraph (1) for a + subsequent rate year. + ``(C) Submission of quality data.--For rate year + 2014 and each subsequent rate year, each psychiatric + hospital and psychiatric unit shall submit to the + Secretary data on quality measures specified under + subparagraph (D). Such data shall be submitted in a form + and manner, and at a time, specified by the Secretary + for purposes of this subparagraph. + ``(D) Quality measures.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), any + measure specified by the Secretary under this + subparagraph must have been endorsed by the entity + with a contract under section 1890(a). + ``(ii) Exception.--In the case of a specified + area or medical topic determined appropriate by + the Secretary for which a feasible and practical + measure has not been endorsed by the entity with a + contract under section 1890(a), the Secretary may + specify a measure that is not so endorsed as long + as due consideration is given to measures that + have been endorsed or adopted by a consensus + organization identified by the Secretary. + ``(iii) Time frame.--Not later than October 1, + 2012, the Secretary shall publish the measures + selected under this subparagraph that will be + applicable with respect to rate year 2014. + ``(E) Public availability of data submitted.-- + <> The Secretary shall establish + procedures for making data submitted under subparagraph + (C) available to the public. Such procedures shall + ensure that a psychiatric hospital and a psychiatric + unit has the opportunity to review the data that is to + be made public with respect to the hospital or unit + prior to such data being made + public. <> The Secretary shall report + quality measures that relate to services furnished in + inpatient settings in psychiatric hospitals and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 954]] + + psychiatric units on the Internet website of the Centers + for Medicare & Medicaid Services.''. + + (b) Conforming Amendment.--Section 1890(b)(7)(B)(i)(I) of the Social +Security Act, as added by section 3014, <> is +amended by inserting ``1886(s)(4)(D),'' after ``1886(o)(2),''. + +SEC. 10323. MEDICARE COVERAGE FOR INDIVIDUALS EXPOSED TO ENVIRONMENTAL + HEALTH HAZARDS. + + (a) In General.--Title XVIII of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395 et seq.) is amended by inserting after section 1881 the following +new section: + +``SEC. 1881A. <> MEDICARE COVERAGE FOR + INDIVIDUALS EXPOSED TO ENVIRONMENTAL HEALTH HAZARDS. + + ``(a) Deeming of Individuals as Eligible for Medicare Benefits.-- + ``(1) In general.--For purposes of eligibility for benefits + under this title, an individual determined under subsection (c) + to be an environmental exposure affected individual described in + subsection (e)(2) shall be deemed to meet the conditions + specified in section 226(a). + ``(2) Discretionary deeming.--For purposes of eligibility + for benefits under this title, the Secretary may deem an + individual determined under subsection (c) to be an + environmental exposure affected individual described in + subsection (e)(3) to meet the conditions specified in section + 226(a). + ``(3) Effective date of coverage.--An Individual who is + deemed eligible for benefits under this title under paragraph + (1) or (2) shall be-- + ``(A) entitled to benefits under the program under + Part A as of the date of such deeming; and + ``(B) eligible to enroll in the program under Part B + beginning with the month in which such deeming occurs. + + ``(b) Pilot Program for Care of Certain Individuals Residing in +Emergency Declaration Areas.-- + ``(1) Program; purpose.-- + ``(A) Primary pilot program.--The Secretary shall + establish a pilot program in accordance with this + subsection to provide innovative approaches to + furnishing comprehensive, coordinated, and cost- + effective care under this title to individuals described + in paragraph (2)(A). + ``(B) Optional pilot programs.--The Secretary may + establish a separate pilot program, in accordance with + this subsection, with respect to each geographic area + subject to an emergency declaration (other than the + declaration of June 17, 2009), in order to furnish such + comprehensive, coordinated and cost-effective care to + individuals described in subparagraph (2)(B) who reside + in each such area. + ``(2) Individual described.--For purposes of paragraph (1), + an individual described in this paragraph is an individual who + enrolls in part B, submits to the Secretary an application to + participate in the applicable pilot program under this + subsection, and-- + ``(A) is an environmental exposure affected + individual described in subsection (e)(2) who resides in + or around the geographic area subject to an emergency + declaration made as of June 17, 2009; or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 955]] + + ``(B) is an environmental exposure affected + individual described in subsection (e)(3) who-- + ``(i) is deemed under subsection (a)(2); and + ``(ii) meets such other criteria or conditions + for participation in a pilot program under + paragraph (1)(B) as the Secretary specifies. + ``(3) Flexible benefits and services.--A pilot program under + this subsection may provide for the furnishing of benefits, + items, or services not otherwise covered or authorized under + this title, if the Secretary determines that furnishing such + benefits, items, or services will further the purposes of such + pilot program (as described in paragraph (1)). + ``(4) Innovative reimbursement methodologies.--For purposes + of the pilot program under this subsection, the Secretary-- + ``(A) shall develop and implement appropriate + methodologies to reimburse providers for furnishing + benefits, items, or services for which payment is not + otherwise covered or authorized under this title, if + such benefits, items, or services are furnished pursuant + to paragraph (3); and + ``(B) may develop and implement innovative + approaches to reimbursing providers for any benefits, + items, or services furnished under this subsection. + ``(5) Limitation.--Consistent with section 1862(b), no + payment shall be made under the pilot program under this + subsection with respect to benefits, items, or services + furnished to an environmental exposure affected individual (as + defined in subsection (e)) to the extent that such individual is + eligible to receive such benefits, items, or services through + any other public or private benefits plan or legal agreement. + ``(6) Waiver authority.--The Secretary may waive such + provisions of this title and title XI as are necessary to carry + out pilot programs under this subsection. + ``(7) Funding.--For purposes of carrying out pilot programs + under this subsection, the Secretary shall provide for the + transfer, from the Federal Hospital Insurance Trust Fund under + section 1817 and the Federal Supplementary Medical Insurance + Trust Fund under section 1841, in such proportion as the + Secretary determines appropriate, of such sums as the Secretary + determines necessary, to the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid + Services Program Management Account. + ``(8) Waiver of budget neutrality.--The Secretary shall not + require that pilot programs under this subsection be budget + neutral with respect to expenditures under this title. + + ``(c) Determinations.-- + ``(1) By the commissioner of social security.--For purposes + of this section, the Commissioner of Social Security, in + consultation with the Secretary, and using the cost allocation + method prescribed in section 201(g), shall determine whether + individuals are environmental exposure affected individuals. + ``(2) By the secretary.--The Secretary shall determine + eligibility for pilot programs under subsection (b). + + ``(d) Emergency Declaration Defined.--For purposes of this section, +the term `emergency declaration' means a declaration of a public health +emergency under section 104(a) of the Comprehensive Environmental +Response, Compensation, and Liability Act of 1980. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 956]] + + ``(e) Environmental Exposure Affected Individual Defined.-- + ``(1) In general.--For purposes of this section, the term + `environmental exposure affected individual' means-- + ``(A) an individual described in paragraph (2); and + ``(B) an individual described in paragraph (3). + ``(2) Individual described.-- + ``(A) In general.--An individual described in this + paragraph is any individual who-- + ``(i) is diagnosed with 1 or more conditions + described in subparagraph (B); + ``(ii) as demonstrated in such manner as the + Secretary determines appropriate, has been present + for an aggregate total of 6 months in the + geographic area subject to an emergency + declaration specified in subsection (b)(2)(A), + during a period ending-- + ``(I) not less than 10 years prior + to such diagnosis; and + ``(II) prior to the implementation + of all the remedial and removal actions + specified in the Record of Decision for + Operating Unit 4 and the Record of + Decision for Operating Unit 7; + ``(iii) files an application for benefits + under this title (or has an application filed on + behalf of the individual), including pursuant to + this section; and + ``(iv) is determined under this section to + meet the criteria in this subparagraph. + ``(B) Conditions described.--For purposes of + subparagraph (A), the following conditions are described + in this subparagraph: + ``(i) Asbestosis, pleural thickening, or + pleural plaques as established by-- + ``(I) interpretation by a `B Reader' + qualified physician of a plain chest x- + ray or interpretation of a computed + tomographic radiograph of the chest by a + qualified physician, as determined by + the Secretary; or + ``(II) such other diagnostic + standards as the Secretary specifies, + except that this clause shall not apply to pleural + thickening or pleural plaques unless there are + symptoms or conditions requiring medical treatment + as a result of these diagnoses. + ``(ii) Mesothelioma, or malignancies of the + lung, colon, rectum, larynx, stomach, esophagus, + pharynx, or ovary, as established by-- + ``(I) pathologic examination of + biopsy tissue; + ``(II) cytology from + bronchioalveolar lavage; or + ``(III) such other diagnostic + standards as the Secretary specifies. + ``(iii) Any other diagnosis which the + Secretary, in consultation with the Commissioner + of Social Security, determines is an asbestos- + related medical condition, as established by such + diagnostic standards as the Secretary specifies. + ``(3) Other individual described.--An individual described + in this paragraph is any individual who-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 957]] + + ``(A) is not an individual described in paragraph + (2); + ``(B) is diagnosed with a medical condition caused + by the exposure of the individual to a public health + hazard to which an emergency declaration applies, based + on such medical conditions, diagnostic standards, and + other criteria as the Secretary specifies; + ``(C) as demonstrated in such manner as the + Secretary determines appropriate, has been present for + an aggregate total of 6 months in the geographic area + subject to the emergency declaration involved, during a + period determined appropriate by the Secretary; + ``(D) files an application for benefits under this + title (or has an application filed on behalf of the + individual), including pursuant to this section; and + ``(E) is determined under this section to meet the + criteria in this paragraph.''. + + (b) Program for Early Detection of Certain Medical Conditions +Related to Environmental Health Hazards.--Title XX of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1397 et seq.), as amended by section 5507, is +amended by adding at the end the following: + +``SEC. 2009. <> PROGRAM FOR EARLY DETECTION OF + CERTAIN MEDICAL CONDITIONS RELATED TO ENVIRONMENTAL HEALTH + HAZARDS. + + ``(a) Program Establishment.--The Secretary shall establish a +program in accordance with this section to make competitive grants to +eligible entities specified in subsection (b) for the purpose of-- + ``(1) screening at-risk individuals (as defined in + subsection (c)(1)) for environmental health conditions (as + defined in subsection (c)(3)); and + ``(2) developing and disseminating public information and + education concerning-- + ``(A) the availability of screening under the + program under this section; + ``(B) the detection, prevention, and treatment of + environmental health conditions; and + ``(C) the availability of Medicare benefits for + certain individuals diagnosed with environmental health + conditions under section 1881A. + + ``(b) Eligible Entities.-- + ``(1) In general.--For purposes of this section, an eligible + entity is an entity described in paragraph (2) which submits an + application to the Secretary in such form and manner, and + containing such information and assurances, as the Secretary + determines appropriate. + ``(2) Types of eligible entities.--The entities described in + this paragraph are the following: + ``(A) A hospital or community health center. + ``(B) A Federally qualified health center. + ``(C) A facility of the Indian Health Service. + ``(D) A National Cancer Institute-designated cancer + center. + ``(E) An agency of any State or local government. + ``(F) A nonprofit organization. + ``(G) Any other entity the Secretary determines + appropriate. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 958]] + + ``(c) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) At-risk individual.--The term `at-risk individual' + means an individual who-- + ``(A)(i) as demonstrated in such manner as the + Secretary determines appropriate, has been present for + an aggregate total of 6 months in the geographic area + subject to an emergency declaration specified under + paragraph (2), during a period ending-- + ``(I) not less than 10 years prior to the date + of such individual's application under + subparagraph (B); and + ``(II) prior to the implementation of all the + remedial and removal actions specified in the + Record of Decision for Operating Unit 4 and the + Record of Decision for Operating Unit 7; or + ``(ii) meets such other criteria as the Secretary + determines appropriate considering the type of + environmental health condition at issue; and + ``(B) has submitted an application (or has an + application submitted on the individual's behalf), to an + eligible entity receiving a grant under this section, + for screening under the program under this section. + ``(2) Emergency declaration.--The term `emergency + declaration' means a declaration of a public health emergency + under section 104(a) of the Comprehensive Environmental + Response, Compensation, and Liability Act of 1980. + ``(3) Environmental health condition.--The term + `environmental health condition' means-- + ``(A) asbestosis, pleural thickening, or pleural + plaques, as established by-- + ``(i) interpretation by a `B Reader' qualified + physician of a plain chest x-ray or interpretation + of a computed tomographic radiograph of the chest + by a qualified physician, as determined by the + Secretary; or + ``(ii) such other diagnostic standards as the + Secretary specifies; + ``(B) mesothelioma, or malignancies of the lung, + colon, rectum, larynx, stomach, esophagus, pharynx, or + ovary, as established by-- + ``(i) pathologic examination of biopsy tissue; + ``(ii) cytology from bronchioalveolar lavage; + or + ``(iii) such other diagnostic standards as the + Secretary specifies; and + ``(C) any other medical condition which the + Secretary determines is caused by exposure to a + hazardous substance or pollutant or contaminant at a + Superfund site to which an emergency declaration + applies, based on such criteria and as established by + such diagnostic standards as the Secretary specifies. + ``(4) Hazardous substance; pollutant; contaminant.--The + terms `hazardous substance', `pollutant', and `contaminant' have + the meanings given those terms in section 101 of the + Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and + Liability Act of 1980 (42 U.S.C. 9601). + ``(5) Superfund site.--The term `Superfund site' means a + site included on the National Priorities List developed by the + President in accordance with section 105(a)(8)(B) of the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 959]] + + Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and + Liability Act of 1980 (42 U.S.C. 9605(a)(8)(B)). + + ``(d) Health Coverage Unaffected.--Nothing in this section shall be +construed to affect any coverage obligation of a governmental or private +health plan or program relating to an at-risk individual. + ``(e) Funding.-- + ``(1) In general.--Out of any funds in the Treasury not + otherwise appropriated, there are appropriated to the Secretary, + to carry out the program under this section-- + ``(A) $23,000,000 for the period of fiscal years + 2010 through 2014; and + ``(B) $20,000,000 for each 5-fiscal year period + thereafter. + ``(2) Availability.--Funds appropriated under paragraph (1) + shall remain available until expended. + + ``(f) Nonapplication.-- + ``(1) In general.--Except as provided in paragraph (2), the + preceding sections of this title shall not apply to grants + awarded under this section. + ``(2) Limitations on use of grants.--Section 2005(a) shall + apply to a grant awarded under this section to the same extent + and in the same manner as such section applies to payments to + States under this title, except that paragraph (4) of such + section shall not be construed to prohibit grantees from + conducting screening for environmental health conditions as + authorized under this section.''. + +SEC. 10324. PROTECTIONS FOR FRONTIER STATES. + + (a) Floor on Area Wage Index for Hospitals in Frontier States.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1886(d)(3)(E) of the Social + Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(3)(E)) is amended-- + (A) in clause (i), by striking ``clause (ii)'' and + inserting ``clause (ii) or (iii)''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following new clause: + ``(iii) Floor on area wage index for hospitals + in frontier states.-- + ``(I) In general.--Subject to + subclause (IV), for discharges occurring + on or after October 1, 2010, the area + wage index applicable under this + subparagraph to any hospital which is + located in a frontier State (as defined + in subclause (II)) may not be less than + 1.00. + ``(II) Frontier state defined.--In + this clause, the term `frontier State' + means a State in which at least 50 + percent of the counties in the State are + frontier counties. + ``(III) Frontier county defined.--In + this clause, the term `frontier county' + means a county in which the population + per square mile is less than 6. + ``(IV) Limitation.--This clause + shall not apply to any hospital located + in a State that receives a non-labor + related share adjustment under paragraph + (5)(H).''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 960]] + + (2) Waiving budget neutrality.--Section 1886(d)(3)(E) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(3)(E)), as amended by + subsection (a), is amended in the third sentence by inserting + ``and the amendments made by section 10324(a)(1) of the Patient + Protection and Affordable Care Act'' after ``2003''. + + (b) Floor on Area Wage Adjustment Factor for Hospital Outpatient +Department Services in Frontier States.--Section 1833(t) of the Social +Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(t)), as amended by section 3138, is +amended-- + (1) in paragraph (2)(D), by striking ``the Secretary'' and + inserting ``subject to paragraph (19), the Secretary''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(19) Floor on area wage adjustment factor for hospital + outpatient department services in frontier states.-- + ``(A) In general.--Subject to subparagraph (B), with + respect to covered OPD services furnished on or after + January 1, 2011, the area wage adjustment factor + applicable under the payment system established under + this subsection to any hospital outpatient department + which is located in a frontier State (as defined in + section 1886(d)(3)(E)(iii)(II)) may not be less than + 1.00. The preceding sentence shall not be applied in a + budget neutral manner. + ``(B) Limitation.--This paragraph shall not apply to + any hospital outpatient department located in a State + that receives a non-labor related share adjustment under + section 1886(d)(5)(H).''. + + (c) Floor for Practice Expense Index for Physicians' Services +Furnished in Frontier States.--Section 1848(e)(1) of the Social Security +Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4(e)(1)), as amended by section 3102, is amended-- + (1) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``and (H)'' and + inserting ``(H), and (I)''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following new subparagraph: + ``(I) Floor for practice expense index for services + furnished in frontier states.-- + ``(i) In general.--Subject to clause (ii), for + purposes of payment for services furnished in a + frontier State (as defined in section + 1886(d)(3)(E)(iii)(II)) on or after January 1, + 2011, after calculating the practice expense index + in subparagraph (A)(i), the Secretary shall + increase any such index to 1.00 if such index + would otherwise be less that 1.00. The preceding + sentence shall not be applied in a budget neutral + manner. + ``(ii) Limitation.--This subparagraph shall + not apply to services furnished in a State that + receives a non-labor related share adjustment + under section 1886(d)(5)(H).''. + +SEC. 10325. REVISION TO SKILLED NURSING FACILITY PROSPECTIVE PAYMENT + SYSTEM. + + (a) Temporary Delay of RUG-IV.-- <> Notwithstanding any other provision of law, the Secretary of +Health and Human Services shall not, prior to October 1, 2011, implement +Version 4 of the Resource Utilization Groups (in this subsection +refereed to as ``RUG-IV'') published in the Federal Register on August +11, 2009, entitled ``Prospective Payment System and Consolidated Billing +for + +[[Page 124 STAT. 961]] + +Skilled Nursing Facilities for FY 2010; Minimum Data Set, Version 3.0 +for Skilled Nursing Facilities and Medicaid Nursing Facilities'' (74 +Fed. Reg. 40288). Beginning on October 1, 2010, the Secretary of Health +and Human Services shall implement the change specific to therapy +furnished on a concurrent basis that is a component of RUG-IV and +changes to the lookback period to ensure that only those services +furnished after admission to a skilled nursing facility are used as +factors in determining a case mix classification under the skilled +nursing facility prospective payment system under section 1888(e) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395yy(e)). + + (b) Construction.--Nothing in this section shall be interpreted as +delaying the implementation of Version 3.0 of the Minimum Data Sets (MDS +3.0) beyond the planned implementation date of October 1, 2010. + +SEC. 10326. <> PILOT TESTING PAY-FOR- + PERFORMANCE PROGRAMS FOR CERTAIN MEDICARE PROVIDERS. + + (a) In General.-- <> Not later than January 1, +2016, the Secretary of Health and Human Services (in this section +referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall, for each provider described in +subsection (b), conduct a separate pilot program under title XVIII of +the Social Security Act to test the implementation of a value-based +purchasing program for payments under such title for the provider. + + (b) Providers Described.--The providers described in this paragraph +are the following: + (1) Psychiatric hospitals (as described in clause (i) of + section 1886(d)(1)(B) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(1)(B))) + and psychiatric units (as described in the matter following + clause (v) of such section). + (2) Long-term care hospitals (as described in clause (iv) of + such section). + (3) Rehabilitation hospitals (as described in clause (ii) of + such section). + (4) PPS-exempt cancer hospitals (as described in clause (v) + of such section). + (5) Hospice programs (as defined in section 1861(dd)(2) of + such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(dd)(2))). + + (c) Waiver Authority.--The Secretary may waive such requirements of +titles XI and XVIII of the Social Security Act as may be necessary +solely for purposes of carrying out the pilot programs under this +section. + (d) No Additional Program Expenditures.--Payments under this section +under the separate pilot program for value based purchasing (as +described in subsection (a)) for each provider type described in +paragraphs (1) through (5) of subsection (b) for applicable items and +services under title XVIII of the Social Security Act for a year shall +be established in a manner that does not result in spending more under +each such value based purchasing program for such year than would +otherwise be expended for such provider type for such year if the pilot +program were not implemented, as estimated by the Secretary. + (e) <> Expansion of Pilot Program.--The +Secretary may, at any point after January 1, 2018, expand the duration +and scope of a pilot program conducted under this subsection, to the +extent determined appropriate by the Secretary, if-- + (1) the Secretary determines that such expansion is expected + to-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 962]] + + (A) reduce spending under title XVIII of the Social + Security Act without reducing the quality of care; or + (B) improve the quality of care and reduce spending; + (2) <> the Chief Actuary of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services certifies that such + expansion would reduce program spending under such title XVIII; + and + (3) the Secretary determines that such expansion would not + deny or limit the coverage or provision of benefits under such + title XIII for Medicare beneficiaries. + +SEC. 10327. IMPROVEMENTS TO THE PHYSICIAN QUALITY REPORTING SYSTEM. + + (a) In General.--Section 1848(m) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395w-4(m)) is amended by adding at the end the following new +paragraph: + ``(7) Additional incentive payment.-- + ``(A) In general.-- <> For 2011 + through 2014, if an eligible professional meets the + requirements described in subparagraph (B), the + applicable quality percent for such year, as described + in clauses (iii) and (iv) of paragraph (1)(B), shall be + increased by 0.5 percentage points. + ``(B) Requirements described.--In order to qualify + for the additional incentive payment described in + subparagraph (A), an eligible professional shall meet + the following requirements: + ``(i) The eligible professional shall-- + ``(I) satisfactorily submit data on + quality measures for purposes of + paragraph (1) for a year; and + ``(II) have such data submitted on + their behalf through a Maintenance of + Certification Program (as defined in + subparagraph (C)(i)) that meets-- + ``(aa) the criteria for a + registry (as described in + subsection (k)(4)); or + ``(bb) an alternative form + and manner determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(ii) The eligible professional, more + frequently than is required to qualify for or + maintain board certification status-- + ``(I) participates in such a + Maintenance of Certification program for + a year; and + ``(II) successfully completes a + qualified Maintenance of Certification + Program practice assessment (as defined + in subparagraph (C)(ii)) for such year. + ``(iii) A Maintenance of Certification program + submits to the Secretary, on behalf of the + eligible professional, information-- + ``(I) in a form and manner specified + by the Secretary, that the eligible + professional has successfully met the + requirements of clause (ii) (which may + be in the form of a structural measure); + ``(II) if requested by the + Secretary, on the survey of patient + experience with care (as described in + subparagraph (C)(ii)(II)); and + ``(III) as the Secretary may + require, on the methods, measures, and + data used under the Maintenance of + Certification Program and the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 963]] + + qualified Maintenance of Certification + Program practice assessment. + ``(C) Definitions.--For purposes of this paragraph: + ``(i) The term `Maintenance of Certification + Program' means a continuous assessment program, + such as qualified American Board of Medical + Specialties Maintenance of Certification program + or an equivalent program (as determined by the + Secretary), that advances quality and the lifelong + learning and self-assessment of board certified + specialty physicians by focusing on the + competencies of patient care, medical knowledge, + practice-based learning, interpersonal and + communication skills and professionalism. Such a + program shall include the following: + ``(I) The program requires the + physician to maintain a valid, + unrestricted medical license in the + United States. + ``(II) The program requires a + physician to participate in educational + and self-assessment programs that + require an assessment of what was + learned. + ``(III) The program requires a + physician to demonstrate, through a + formalized, secure examination, that the + physician has the fundamental diagnostic + skills, medical knowledge, and clinical + judgment to provide quality care in + their respective specialty. + ``(IV) The program requires + successful completion of a qualified + Maintenance of Certification Program + practice assessment as described in + clause (ii). + ``(ii) The term `qualified Maintenance of + Certification Program practice assessment' means + an assessment of a physician's practice that-- + ``(I) includes an initial assessment + of an eligible professional's practice + that is designed to demonstrate the + physician's use of evidence-based + medicine; + ``(II) includes a survey of patient + experience with care; and + ``(III) requires a physician to + implement a quality improvement + intervention to address a practice + weakness identified in the initial + assessment under subclause (I) and then + to remeasure to assess performance + improvement after such intervention.''. + + (b) Authority.--Section 3002(c) of this Act <> is amended by adding at the end the following new paragraph: + ``(3) Authority.-- <> For years after + 2014, if the Secretary of Health and Human Services determines + it to be appropriate, the Secretary may incorporate + participation in a Maintenance of Certification Program and + successful completion of a qualified Maintenance of + Certification Program practice assessment into the composite of + measures of quality of care furnished pursuant to the physician + fee schedule payment modifier, as described in section + 1848(p)(2) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w- + 4(p)(2)).''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 964]] + + (c) Elimination of MA Regional Plan Stabilization Fund.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1858 of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1395w-27a) is amended by striking subsection (e). + (2) <> Transition.--Any amount + contained in the MA Regional Plan Stabilization Fund as of the + date of the enactment of this Act shall be transferred to the + Federal Supplementary Medical Insurance Trust Fund. + +SEC. 10328. IMPROVEMENT IN PART D MEDICATION THERAPY MANAGEMENT (MTM) + PROGRAMS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1860D-4(c)(2) of the Social Security Act +(42 U.S.C. 1395w-104(c)(2)) is amended-- + (1) by redesignating subparagraphs (C), (D), and (E) as + subparagraphs (E), (F), and (G), respectively; and + (2) by inserting after subparagraph (B) the following new + subparagraphs: + ``(C) Required interventions.--For plan years + beginning on or after the date that is 2 years after the + date of the enactment of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act, prescription drug plan sponsors + shall offer medication therapy management services to + targeted beneficiaries described in subparagraph (A)(ii) + that include, at a minimum, the following to increase + adherence to prescription medications or other goals + deemed necessary by the Secretary: + ``(i) An annual comprehensive medication + review furnished person-to-person or using + telehealth technologies (as defined by the + Secretary) by a licensed pharmacist or other + qualified provider. The comprehensive medication + review-- + ``(I) shall include a review of the + individual's medications and may result + in the creation of a recommended + medication action plan or other actions + in consultation with the individual and + with input from the prescriber to the + extent necessary and practicable; and + ``(II) shall include providing the + individual with a written or printed + summary of the results of the review. + The Secretary, in consultation with relevant + stakeholders, shall develop a standardized format + for the action plan under subclause (I) and the + summary under subclause (II). + ``(ii) Follow-up interventions as warranted + based on the findings of the annual medication + review or the targeted medication enrollment and + which may be provided person-to-person or using + telehealth technologies (as defined by the + Secretary). + ``(D) Assessment.--The prescription drug plan + sponsor shall have in place a process to assess, at + least on a quarterly basis, the medication use of + individuals who are at risk but not enrolled in the + medication therapy management program, including + individuals who have experienced a transition in care, + if the prescription drug plan sponsor has access to that + information. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 965]] + + ``(E) Automatic enrollment with ability to opt- + out.--The prescription drug plan sponsor shall have in + place a process to-- + ``(i) subject to clause (ii), automatically + enroll targeted beneficiaries described in + subparagraph (A)(ii), including beneficiaries + identified under subparagraph (D), in the + medication therapy management program required + under this subsection; and + ``(ii) permit such beneficiaries to opt-out of + enrollment in such program.''. + + (b) <> Rule of Construction.--Nothing +in this section shall limit the authority of the Secretary of Health and +Human Services to modify or broaden requirements for a medication +therapy management program under part D of title XVIII of the Social +Security Act or to study new models for medication therapy management +through the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Innovation under section +1115A of such Act, as added by section 3021. + +SEC. 10329. DEVELOPING METHODOLOGY TO ASSESS HEALTH PLAN VALUE. + + (a) Development.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services +(referred to in this section as the ``Secretary''), in consultation with +relevant stakeholders including health insurance issuers, health care +consumers, employers, health care providers, and other entities +determined appropriate by the Secretary, shall develop a methodology to +measure health plan value. Such methodology shall take into +consideration, where applicable-- + (1) the overall cost to enrollees under the plan; + (2) the quality of the care provided for under the plan; + (3) the efficiency of the plan in providing care; + (4) the relative risk of the plan's enrollees as compared to + other plans; + (5) the actuarial value or other comparative measure of the + benefits covered under the plan; and + (6) other factors determined relevant by the Secretary. + + (b) Report.--Not later than 18 months after the date of enactment of +this Act, the Secretary shall submit to Congress a report concerning the +methodology developed under subsection (a). + +SEC. 10330. MODERNIZING COMPUTER AND DATA SYSTEMS OF THE CENTERS FOR + MEDICARE & MEDICAID SERVICES TO SUPPORT IMPROVEMENTS IN CARE + DELIVERY. + + (a) In General.-- <> The Secretary of Health and Human +Services (in this section referred to as the ``Secretary'') shall +develop a plan (and detailed budget for the resources needed to +implement such plan) to modernize the computer and data systems of the +Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (in this section referred to as +``CMS''). + + (b) Considerations.--In developing the plan, the Secretary shall +consider how such modernized computer system could-- + (1) in accordance with the regulations promulgated under + section 264(c) of the Health Insurance Portability and + Accountability Act of 1996, make available data in a reliable + and timely manner to providers of services and suppliers to + support their efforts to better manage and coordinate care + furnished to beneficiaries of CMS programs; and + (2) support consistent evaluations of payment and delivery + system reforms under CMS programs. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 966]] + + (c) Posting of Plan.-- <> By not later +than 9 months after the date of the enactment of this Act, the Secretary +shall post on the website of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid +Services the plan described in subsection (a). + +SEC. 10331. <> PUBLIC REPORTING OF PERFORMANCE + INFORMATION. + + (a) <> In General.-- + (1) Development.-- <> Not later than + January 1, 2011, the Secretary shall develop a Physician Compare + Internet website with information on physicians enrolled in the + Medicare program under section 1866(j) of the Social Security + Act (42 U.S.C. 1395cc(j)) and other eligible professionals who + participate in the Physician Quality Reporting Initiative under + section 1848 of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4). + (2) Plan.-- <> Not later than January 1, + 2013, and with respect to reporting periods that begin no + earlier than January 1, 2012, the Secretary shall also implement + a plan for making publicly available through Physician Compare, + consistent with subsection (c), information on physician + performance that provides comparable information for the public + on quality and patient experience measures with respect to + physicians enrolled in the Medicare program under such section + 1866(j). To the extent scientifically sound measures that are + developed consistent with the requirements of this section are + available, such information, to the extent practicable, shall + include-- + (A) measures collected under the Physician Quality + Reporting Initiative; + (B) an assessment of patient health outcomes and the + functional status of patients; + (C) an assessment of the continuity and coordination + of care and care transitions, including episodes of care + and risk-adjusted resource use; + (D) an assessment of efficiency; + (E) an assessment of patient experience and patient, + caregiver, and family engagement; + (F) an assessment of the safety, effectiveness, and + timeliness of care; and + (G) other information as determined appropriate by + the Secretary. + + (b) Other Required Considerations.--In developing and implementing +the plan described in subsection (a)(2), the Secretary shall, to the +extent practicable, include-- + (1) processes to assure that data made public, either by the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services or by other entities, + is statistically valid and reliable, including risk adjustment + mechanisms used by the Secretary; + (2) processes by which a physician or other eligible + professional whose performance on measures is being publicly + reported has a reasonable opportunity, as determined by the + Secretary, to review his or her individual results before they + are made public; + (3) processes by the Secretary to assure that the + implementation of the plan and the data made available on + Physician Compare provide a robust and accurate portrayal of a + physician's performance; + (4) data that reflects the care provided to all patients + seen by physicians, under both the Medicare program and, + +[[Page 124 STAT. 967]] + + to the extent practicable, other payers, to the extent such + information would provide a more accurate portrayal of physician + performance; + (5) processes to ensure appropriate attribution of care when + multiple physicians and other providers are involved in the care + of a patient; + (6) processes to ensure timely statistical performance + feedback is provided to physicians concerning the data reported + under any program subject to public reporting under this + section; and + (7) implementation of computer and data systems of the + Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services that support valid, + reliable, and accurate public reporting activities authorized + under this section. + + (c) Ensuring Patient Privacy.--The Secretary shall ensure that +information on physician performance and patient experience is not +disclosed under this section in a manner that violates sections 552 or +552a of title 5, United States Code, with regard to the privacy of +individually identifiable health information. + (d) Feedback From Multi-stakeholder Groups.--The Secretary shall +take into consideration input provided by multi-stakeholder groups, +consistent with sections 1890(b)(7) and 1890A of the Social Security +Act, as added by section 3014 of this Act, in selecting quality measures +for use under this section. + (e) Consideration of Transition to Value-based Purchasing.--In +developing the plan under this subsection (a)(2), the Secretary shall, +as the Secretary determines appropriate, consider the plan to transition +to a value-based purchasing program for physicians and other +practitioners developed under section 131 of the Medicare Improvements +for Patients and Providers Act of 2008 (Public Law 110-275). + (f) Report to Congress.--Not later than January 1, 2015, the +Secretary shall submit to Congress a report on the Physician Compare +Internet website developed under subsection (a)(1). Such report shall +include information on the efforts of and plans made by the Secretary to +collect and publish data on physician quality and efficiency and on +patient experience of care in support of value-based purchasing and +consumer choice, together with recommendations for such legislation and +administrative action as the Secretary determines appropriate. + (g) Expansion.--At any time before the date on which the report is +submitted under subsection (f), the Secretary may expand (including +expansion to other providers of services and suppliers under title XVIII +of the Social Security Act) the information made available on such +website. + (h) Financial Incentives To Encourage Consumers To Choose High +Quality Providers.-- <> The Secretary may establish a +demonstration program, not later than January 1, 2019, to provide +financial incentives to Medicare beneficiaries who are furnished +services by high quality physicians, as determined by the Secretary +based on factors in subparagraphs (A) through (G) of subsection (a)(2). +In no case may Medicare beneficiaries be required to pay increased +premiums or cost sharing or be subject to a reduction in benefits under +title XVIII of the Social Security Act as a result of such demonstration +program. The Secretary shall ensure that + +[[Page 124 STAT. 968]] + +any such demonstration program does not disadvantage those beneficiaries +without reasonable access to high performing physicians or create +financial inequities under such title. + + (i) Definitions.--In this section: + (1) Eligible professional.--The term ``eligible + professional'' has the meaning given that term for purposes of + the Physician Quality Reporting Initiative under section 1848 of + the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395w-4). + (2) Physician.--The term ``physician'' has the meaning given + that term in section 1861(r) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(r)). + (3) Physician compare.--The term ``Physician Compare'' means + the Internet website developed under subsection (a)(1). + (4) Secretary.--The term ``Secretary'' means the Secretary + of Health and Human Services. + +SEC. 10332. AVAILABILITY OF MEDICARE DATA FOR PERFORMANCE MEASUREMENT. + + (a) In General.--Section 1874 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395kk) is amended by adding at the end the following new subsection: + ``(e) Availability of Medicare Data.-- + ``(1) In general.--Subject to paragraph (4), the Secretary + shall make available to qualified entities (as defined in + paragraph (2)) data described in paragraph (3) for the + evaluation of the performance of providers of services and + suppliers. + ``(2) Qualified entities.--For purposes of this subsection, + the term `qualified entity' means a public or private entity + that-- + ``(A) is qualified (as determined by the Secretary) + to use claims data to evaluate the performance of + providers of services and suppliers on measures of + quality, efficiency, effectiveness, and resource use; + and + ``(B) agrees to meet the requirements described in + paragraph (4) and meets such other requirements as the + Secretary may specify, such as ensuring security of + data. + ``(3) Data described.--The data described in this paragraph + are standardized extracts (as determined by the Secretary) of + claims data under parts A, B, and D for items and services + furnished under such parts for one or more specified geographic + areas and time periods requested by a qualified entity. The + Secretary shall take such actions as the Secretary deems + necessary to protect the identity of individuals entitled to or + enrolled for benefits under such parts. + ``(4) Requirements.-- + ``(A) Fee.--Data described in paragraph (3) shall be + made available to a qualified entity under this + subsection at a fee equal to the cost of making such + data available. Any fee collected pursuant to the + preceding sentence shall be deposited into the Federal + Supplementary Medical Insurance Trust Fund under section + 1841. + ``(B) Specification of uses and methodologies.--A + qualified entity requesting data under this subsection + shall-- + ``(i) submit to the Secretary a description of + the methodologies that such qualified entity will + use to + +[[Page 124 STAT. 969]] + + evaluate the performance of providers of services + and suppliers using such data; + ``(ii)(I) except as provided in subclause + (II), if available, use standard measures, such as + measures endorsed by the entity with a contract + under section 1890(a) and measures developed + pursuant to section 931 of the Public Health + Service Act; or + ``(II) use alternative measures if the + Secretary, in consultation with appropriate + stakeholders, determines that use of such + alternative measures would be more valid, + reliable, responsive to consumer preferences, + cost-effective, or relevant to dimensions of + quality and resource use not addressed by such + standard measures; + ``(iii) include data made available under this + subsection with claims data from sources other + than claims data under this title in the + evaluation of performance of providers of services + and suppliers; + ``(iv) only include information on the + evaluation of performance of providers and + suppliers in reports described in subparagraph + (C); + ``(v) make available to providers of services + and suppliers, upon their request, data made + available under this subsection; and + ``(vi) prior to their release, submit to the + Secretary the format of reports under subparagraph + (C). + ``(C) Reports.--Any report by a qualified entity + evaluating the performance of providers of services and + suppliers using data made available under this + subsection shall-- + ``(i) include an understandable description of + the measures, which shall include quality measures + and the rationale for use of other measures + described in subparagraph (B)(ii)(II), risk + adjustment methods, physician attribution methods, + other applicable methods, data specifications and + limitations, and the sponsors, so that consumers, + providers of services and suppliers, health plans, + researchers, and other stakeholders can assess + such reports; + ``(ii) be made available confidentially, to + any provider of services or supplier to be + identified in such report, prior to the public + release of such report, and provide an opportunity + to appeal and correct errors; + ``(iii) only include information on a provider + of services or supplier in an aggregate form as + determined appropriate by the Secretary; and + ``(iv) <> except as + described in clause (ii), be made available to the + public. + ``(D) Approval and limitation of uses.--The + Secretary shall not make data described in paragraph (3) + available to a qualified entity unless the qualified + entity agrees to release the information on the + evaluation of performance of providers of services and + suppliers. Such entity shall only use such data, and + information derived from such evaluation, for the + reports under subparagraph (C). Data released to a + qualified entity under this subsection shall not be + subject to discovery or admission as + +[[Page 124 STAT. 970]] + + evidence in judicial or administrative proceedings + without consent of the applicable provider of services + or supplier.''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment +made by subsection (a) shall take effect on January 1, 2012. + +SEC. 10333. COMMUNITY-BASED COLLABORATIVE CARE NETWORKS. + + Part D of title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 254b +et seq.) is amended by adding at the end the following new subpart: + + ``Subpart XI--Community-Based Collaborative Care Network Program + +``SEC. 340H. <> COMMUNITY-BASED COLLABORATIVE CARE + NETWORK PROGRAM. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary may award grants to eligible +entities to support community-based collaborative care networks that +meet the requirements of subsection (b). + ``(b) Community-based Collaborative Care Networks.-- + ``(1) Description.--A community-based collaborative care + network (referred to in this section as a `network') shall be a + consortium of health care providers with a joint governance + structure (including providers within a single entity) that + provides comprehensive coordinated and integrated health care + services (as defined by the Secretary) for low-income + populations. + ``(2) Required inclusion.--A network shall include the + following providers (unless such provider does not exist within + the community, declines or refuses to participate, or places + unreasonable conditions on their participation): + ``(A) A hospital that meets the criteria in section + 1923(b)(1) of the Social Security Act; and + ``(B) All Federally qualified health centers (as + defined in section 1861(aa) of the Social Security Act + located in the community. + ``(3) Priority.--In awarding grants, the Secretary shall + give priority to networks that include-- + ``(A) the capability to provide the broadest range + of services to low-income individuals; + ``(B) the broadest range of providers that currently + serve a high volume of low-income individuals; and + ``(C) a county or municipal department of health. + + ``(c) Application.-- + ``(1) Application.--A network described in subsection (b) + shall submit an application to the Secretary. + ``(2) Renewal.--In subsequent years, based on the + performance of grantees, the Secretary may provide renewal + grants to prior year grant recipients. + + ``(d) Use of Funds.-- + ``(1) Use by grantees.--Grant funds may be used for the + following activities: + ``(A) Assist low-income individuals to-- + ``(i) access and appropriately use health + services; + ``(ii) enroll in health coverage programs; and + ``(iii) obtain a regular primary care provider + or a medical home. + ``(B) Provide case management and care management. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 971]] + + ``(C) Perform health outreach using neighborhood + health workers or through other means. + ``(D) Provide transportation. + ``(E) Expand capacity, including through telehealth, + after-hours services or urgent care. + ``(F) Provide direct patient care services. + ``(2) Grant funds to hrsa grantees.--The Secretary may limit + the percent of grant funding that may be spent on direct care + services provided by grantees of programs administered by the + Health Resources and Services Administration or impose other + requirements on such grantees deemed necessary. + + ``(e) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section such sums as may be necessary for +each of fiscal years 2011 through 2015.''. + +SEC. 10334. MINORITY HEALTH. + + (a) Office of Minority Health.-- + (1) In general.--Section 1707 of the Public Health Service + Act (42 U.S.C. 300u-6) is amended-- + (A) <> in subsection (a), by + striking ``within the Office of Public Health and + Science'' and all that follows through the end and + inserting ``. The Office of Minority Health as existing + on the date of enactment of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act shall be transferred to the Office + of the Secretary in such manner that there is + established in the Office of the Secretary, the Office + of Minority Health, which shall be headed by the Deputy + Assistant Secretary for Minority Health who shall report + directly to the Secretary, and shall retain and + strengthen authorities (as in existence on such date of + enactment) for the purpose of improving minority health + and the quality of health care minorities receive, and + eliminating racial and ethnic + disparities. <> In + carrying out this subsection, the Secretary, acting + through the Deputy Assistant Secretary, shall award + grants, contracts, enter into memoranda of + understanding, cooperative, interagency, intra-agency + and other agreements with public and nonprofit private + entities, agencies, as well as Departmental and Cabinet + agencies and organizations, and with organizations that + are indigenous human resource providers in communities + of color to assure improved health status of racial and + ethnic minorities, and shall develop measures to + evaluate the effectiveness of activities aimed at + reducing health disparities and supporting the local + community. Such measures shall evaluate community + outreach activities, language services, workforce + cultural competence, and other areas as determined by + the Secretary.''; and + (B) by striking subsection (h) and inserting the + following: + + ``(h) Authorization of Appropriations.--For the purpose of carrying +out this section, there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as +may be necessary for each of fiscal years 2011 through 2016.''. + (2) <> Transfer of functions.-- + There are transferred to the Office of Minority Health in the + office of the Secretary of Health and Human Services, all + duties, responsibilities, authorities, accountabilities, + functions, staff, funds, award + +[[Page 124 STAT. 972]] + + mechanisms, and other entities under the authority of the Office + of Minority Health of the Public Health Service as in effect on + the date before the date of enactment of this Act, which shall + continue in effect according to the terms in effect on the date + before such date of enactment, until modified, terminated, + superseded, set aside, or revoked in accordance with law by the + President, the Secretary, a court of competent jurisdiction, or + by operation of law. + (3) Reports.-- <> Not later than + 1 year after the date of enactment of this section, and + biennially thereafter, the Secretary of Health and Human + Services shall prepare and submit to the appropriate committees + of Congress a report describing the activities carried out under + section 1707 of the Public Health Service Act (as amended by + this subsection) during the period for which the report is being + prepared. Not later than 1 year after the date of enactment of + this section, and biennially thereafter, the heads of each of + the agencies of the Department of Health and Human Services + shall submit to the Deputy Assistant Secretary for Minority + Health a report summarizing the minority health activities of + each of the respective agencies. + + (b) Establishment of Individual Offices of Minority Health Within +the Department of Health and Human Services.-- + (1) In general.--Title XVII of the Public Health Service Act + (42 U.S.C. 300u et seq.) is amended by inserting after section + 1707 the following section: + +``SEC. 1707A. <> INDIVIDUAL OFFICES OF MINORITY + HEALTH WITHIN THE DEPARTMENT. + + ``(a) In General.--The head of each agency specified in subsection +(b)(1) shall establish within the agency an office to be known as the +Office of Minority Health. <> The head of each such +Office shall be appointed by the head of the agency within which the +Office is established, and shall report directly to the head of the +agency. The head of such agency shall carry out this section (as this +section relates to the agency) acting through such Director. + + ``(b) Specified Agencies.--The agencies referred to in subsection +(a) are the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the Health +Resources and Services Administration, the Substance Abuse and Mental +Health Services Administration, the Agency for Healthcare Research and +Quality, the Food and Drug Administration, and the Centers for Medicare +& Medicaid Services. + ``(c) Director; Appointment.--Each Office of Minority Health +established in an agency listed in subsection (a) shall be headed by a +director, with documented experience and expertise in minority health +services research and health disparities elimination. + ``(d) References.--Except as otherwise specified, any reference in +Federal law to an Office of Minority Health (in the Department of Health +and Human Services) is deemed to be a reference to the Office of +Minority Health in the Office of the Secretary. + ``(e) Funding.-- + ``(1) Allocations.--Of the amounts appropriated for a + specified agency for a fiscal year, the Secretary must designate + an appropriate amount of funds for the purpose of carrying out + activities under this section through the minority health office + of the agency. In reserving an amount under the preceding + +[[Page 124 STAT. 973]] + + sentence for a minority health office for a fiscal year, the + Secretary shall reduce, by substantially the same percentage, + the amount that otherwise would be available for each of the + programs of the designated agency involved. + ``(2) Availability of funds for staffing.--The purposes for + which amounts made available under paragraph may be expended by + a minority health office include the costs of employing staff + for such office.''. + (2) <> No new regulatory + authority.--Nothing in this subsection and the amendments made + by this subsection may be construed as establishing regulatory + authority or modifying any existing regulatory authority. + (3) <> Limitation on + termination.--Notwithstanding any other provision of law, a + Federal office of minority health or Federal appointive position + with primary responsibility over minority health issues that is + in existence in an office of agency of the Department of Health + and Human Services on the date of enactment of this section + shall not be terminated, reorganized, or have any of its power + or duties transferred unless such termination, reorganization, + or transfer is approved by an Act of Congress. + + (c) Redesignation of National Center on Minority Health and Health +Disparities.-- + (1) Redesignation.--Title IV of the Public Health Service + Act (42 U.S.C. 281 et seq.) is amended-- + (A) by redesignating subpart 6 of part E as subpart + 20; + (B) by transferring subpart 20, as so redesignated, + to part C of such title IV; + (C) by inserting subpart 20, as so redesignated, + after subpart 19 of such part C; and + (D) in subpart 20, as so redesignated-- + (i) by redesignating <> sections 485E through 485H as sections + 464z-3 through 464z-6, respectively; + (ii) <> by striking + ``National Center on Minority Health and Health + Disparities'' each place such term appears and + inserting ``National Institute on Minority Health + and Health Disparities''; and + (iii) <> by + striking ``Center'' each place such term appears + and inserting ``Institute''. + (2) Purpose of institute; duties.--Section 464z-3 of the + Public Health Service Act, as so redesignated, <> is amended-- + (A) in subsection (h)(1), by striking ``research + endowments at centers of excellence under section 736.'' + and inserting the following: ``research endowments-- + ``(1) at centers of excellence under section 736; and + ``(2) at centers of excellence under section 464z-4.''; + (B) in subsection (h)(2)(A), by striking ``average'' + and inserting ``median''; and + (C) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(h) Interagency Coordination.--The Director of the Institute, as +the primary Federal officials with responsibility for coordinating all +research and activities conducted or supported by the National +Institutes of Health on minority health and health disparities, shall +plan, coordinate, review and evaluate research and other activities +conducted or supported by the Institutes and Centers of the National +Institutes of Health.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 974]] + + (3) Technical and conforming amendments.-- + (A) Section 401(b)(24) of the Public Health Service + Act (42 U.S.C. 281(b)(24)) is amended by striking + ``Center'' and inserting ``Institute''. + (B) Subsection (d)(1) of section 903 of the Public + Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 299a-1(d)(1)) is amended + by striking ``section 485E'' and inserting ``section + 464z-3''. + +SEC. 10335. TECHNICAL CORRECTION TO THE HOSPITAL VALUE-BASED PURCHASING + PROGRAM. + + Section 1886(o)(2)A) of the Social Security Act, as added by section +3001, <> is amended, in the first sentence, by +inserting ``, other than measures of readmissions,'' after ``shall +select measures''. + +SEC. 10336. GAO STUDY AND REPORT ON MEDICARE BENEFICIARY ACCESS TO HIGH- + QUALITY DIALYSIS SERVICES. + + (a) Study.-- + (1) In general.--The Comptroller General of the United + States shall conduct a study on the impact on Medicare + beneficiary access to high-quality dialysis services of + including specified oral drugs that are furnished to such + beneficiaries for the treatment of end stage renal disease in + the bundled prospective payment system under section 1881(b)(14) + of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395rr(b)(14)) (pursuant + to the proposed rule published by the Secretary of Health and + Human Services in the Federal Register on September 29, 2009 (74 + Fed. Reg. 49922 et seq.)). Such study shall include an analysis + of-- + (A) the ability of providers of services and renal + dialysis facilities to furnish specified oral drugs or + arrange for the provision of such drugs; + (B) the ability of providers of services and renal + dialysis facilities to comply, if necessary, with + applicable State laws (such as State pharmacy licensure + requirements) in order to furnish specified oral drugs; + (C) whether appropriate quality measures exist to + safeguard care for Medicare beneficiaries being + furnished specified oral drugs by providers of services + and renal dialysis facilities; and + (D) other areas determined appropriate by the + Comptroller General. + (2) Specified oral drug defined.--For purposes of paragraph + (1), the term ``specified oral drug'' means a drug or biological + for which there is no injectable equivalent (or other non-oral + form of administration). + + (b) Report.--Not later than 1 year after the date of the enactment +of this Act, the Comptroller General of the United States shall submit +to Congress a report containing the results of the study conducted under +subsection (a), together with recommendations for such legislation and +administrative action as the Comptroller General determines appropriate. + + Subtitle D--Provisions Relating to Title IV + +SEC. 10401. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE A. + + (a) Section 4001(h)(4) and (5) of this Act <> is amended by striking ``2010'' each place such appears and +inserting ``2020''. + + (b) Section 4002(c) of this Act <> is +amended-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 975]] + + (1) by striking ``research and health screenings'' and + inserting ``research, health screenings, and initiatives''; and + (2) by striking ``for Preventive'' and inserting ``Regarding + Preventive''. + + (c) Section 4004(a)(4) of this Act <> is +amended by striking ``a Gateway'' and inserting ``an Exchange''. + +SEC. 10402. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE B. + + (a) Section 399Z-1(a)(1(A) of the Public Health Service Act, as +added by section 4101(b) of this Act, <> is +amended by inserting ``and vision'' after ``oral''. + + (b) Section 1861(hhh)(4)(G) of the Social Security Act, as added by +section 4103(b), <> is amended to read as follows: + ``(G) A beneficiary shall be eligible to receive + only an initial preventive physical examination (as + defined under subsection (ww)(1)) during the 12-month + period after the date that the beneficiary's coverage + begins under part B and shall be eligible to receive + personalized prevention plan services under this + subsection each year thereafter provided that the + beneficiary has not received either an initial + preventive physical examination or personalized + prevention plan services within the preceding 12-month + period.''. + +SEC. 10403. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE C. + + Section 4201 of this Act <> is amended-- + (1) in subsection (a), by adding before the period the + following: ``, with not less than 20 percent of such grants + being awarded to rural and frontier areas''; + (2) in subsection (c)(2)(B)(vii), by striking ``both urban + and rural areas'' and inserting ``urban, rural, and frontier + areas''; and + (3) in subsection (f), by striking ``each fiscal years'' and + inserting ``each of fiscal year''. + +SEC. 10404. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE D. + + Section 399MM(2) of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 4303 of this Act, <> is amended by striking +``by ensuring'' and inserting ``and ensuring''. + +SEC. 10405. AMENDMENTS TO SUBTITLE E. + + Subtitle E of title IV of this Act is amended by striking section +4401. + +SEC. 10406. AMENDMENT RELATING TO WAIVING COINSURANCE FOR PREVENTIVE + SERVICES. + + Section 4104(b) of this Act is amended to read as follows: + ``(b) Payment and Elimination of Coinsurance in All Settings.-- +Section 1833(a)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(a)(1)), +as amended by section 4103(c)(1), is amended-- + ``(1) in subparagraph (T), by inserting `(or 100 percent if + such services are recommended with a grade of A or B by the + United States Preventive Services Task Force for any indication + or population and are appropriate for the individual)' after `80 + percent'; + ``(2) in subparagraph (W)-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 976]] + + ``(A) in clause (i), by inserting `(if such + subparagraph were applied, by substituting ``100 + percent'' for ``80 percent'')' after `subparagraph (D)'; + and + ``(B) in clause (ii), by striking `80 percent' and + inserting `100 percent'; + ``(3) by striking `and' before `(X)'; and + ``(4) by inserting before the semicolon at the end the + following: `, and (Y) with respect to preventive services + described in subparagraphs (A) and (B) of section 1861(ddd)(3) + that are appropriate for the individual and, in the case of such + services described in subparagraph (A), are recommended with a + grade of A or B by the United States Preventive Services Task + Force for any indication or population, the amount paid shall be + 100 percent of (i) except as provided in clause (ii), the lesser + of the actual charge for the services or the amount determined + under the fee schedule that applies to such services under this + part, and (ii) in the case of such services that are covered OPD + services (as defined in subsection (t)(1)(B)), the amount + determined under subsection (t)'.''. + +SEC. 10407. <> BETTER DIABETES CARE. + + (a) Short Title.--This section may be cited as the ``Catalyst to +Better Diabetes Care Act of 2009''. + (b) National Diabetes Report Card.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary, in collaboration with the + Director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention + (referred to in this section as the ``Director''), shall prepare + on a biennial basis a national diabetes report card (referred to + in this section as a ``Report Card'') and, to the extent + possible, for each State. + (2) Contents.-- + (A) In general.--Each Report Card shall include + aggregate health outcomes related to individuals + diagnosed with diabetes and prediabetes including-- + (i) preventative care practices and quality of + care; + (ii) risk factors; and + (iii) outcomes. + (B) Updated reports.--Each Report Card that is + prepared after the initial Report Card shall include + trend analysis for the Nation and, to the extent + possible, for each State, for the purpose of-- + (i) tracking progress in meeting established + national goals and objectives for improving + diabetes care, costs, and prevalence (including + Healthy People 2010); and + (ii) informing policy and program development. + (3) <> Availability.--The Secretary, in collaboration with + the Director, shall make each Report Card publicly available, + including by posting the Report Card on the Internet. + + (c) Improvement of Vital Statistics Collection.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary, acting through the Director + of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and in + collaboration with appropriate agencies and States, shall-- + (A) promote the education and training of physicians + on the importance of birth and death certificate data + and how to properly complete these documents, including + the + +[[Page 124 STAT. 977]] + + collection of such data for diabetes and other chronic + diseases; + (B) encourage State adoption of the latest standard + revisions of birth and death certificates; and + (C) work with States to re-engineer their vital + statistics systems in order to provide cost-effective, + timely, and accurate vital systems data. + (2) Death certificate additional language.--In carrying out + this subsection, the Secretary may promote improvements to the + collection of diabetes mortality data, including the addition of + a question for the individual certifying the cause of death + regarding whether the deceased had diabetes. + + (d) Study on Appropriate Level of Diabetes Medical Education.-- + (1) In general.--The Secretary shall, in collaboration with + the Institute of Medicine and appropriate associations and + councils, conduct a study of the impact of diabetes on the + practice of medicine in the United States and the + appropriateness of the level of diabetes medical education that + should be required prior to licensure, board certification, and + board recertification. + (2) Report.--Not later than 2 years after the date of the + enactment of this Act, the Secretary shall submit a report on + the study under paragraph (1) to the Committees on Ways and + Means and Energy and Commerce of the House of Representatives + and the Committees on Finance and Health, Education, Labor, and + Pensions of the Senate. + + (e) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section such sums as may be necessary. + +SEC. 10408. GRANTS FOR SMALL BUSINESSES TO PROVIDE COMPREHENSIVE + WORKPLACE WELLNESS PROGRAMS. + + (a) Establishment.--The Secretary shall award grants to eligible +employers to provide their employees with access to comprehensive +workplace wellness programs (as described under subsection (c)). + (b) Scope.-- + (1) Duration.--The grant program established under this + section shall be conducted for a 5-year period. + (2) Eligible employer.-- <> The term + ``eligible employer'' means an employer (including a non-profit + employer) that-- + (A) employs less than 100 employees who work 25 + hours or greater per week; and + (B) does not provide a workplace wellness program as + of the date of enactment of this Act. + + (c) Comprehensive Workplace Wellness Programs.-- + (1) Criteria.--The Secretary shall develop program criteria + for comprehensive workplace wellness programs under this section + that are based on and consistent with evidence-based research + and best practices, including research and practices as provided + in the Guide to Community Preventive Services, the Guide to + Clinical Preventive Services, and the National Registry for + Effective Programs. + (2) Requirements.--A comprehensive workplace wellness + program shall be made available by an eligible employer to all + employees and include the following components: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 978]] + + (A) Health awareness initiatives (including health + education, preventive screenings, and health risk + assessments). + (B) Efforts to maximize employee engagement + (including mechanisms to encourage employee + participation). + (C) Initiatives to change unhealthy behaviors and + lifestyle choices (including counseling, seminars, + online programs, and self-help materials). + (D) Supportive environment efforts (including + workplace policies to encourage healthy lifestyles, + healthy eating, increased physical activity, and + improved mental health). + + (d) Application.--An eligible employer desiring to participate in +the grant program under this section shall submit an application to the +Secretary, in such manner and containing such information as the +Secretary may require, which shall include a proposal for a +comprehensive workplace wellness program that meet the criteria and +requirements described under subsection (c). + (e) Authorization of Appropriation.--For purposes of carrying out +the grant program under this section, there is authorized to be +appropriated $200,000,000 for the period of fiscal years 2011 through +2015. Amounts appropriated pursuant to this subsection shall remain +available until expended. + +SEC. 10409. <> CURES ACCELERATION NETWORK. + + (a) Short Title.--This section may be cited as the ``Cures +Acceleration Network Act of 2009''. + (b) Requirement for the Director of NIH To Establish a Cures +Acceleration Network.--Section 402(b) of the Public Health Service Act +(42 U.S.C. 282(b)) is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (22), by striking ``and'' at the end; + (2) in paragraph (23), by striking the period and inserting + ``; and''; and + (3) by inserting after paragraph (23), the following: + ``(24) implement the Cures Acceleration Network described in + section 402C.''. + + (c) Accepting Gifts To Support the Cures Acceleration Network.-- +Section 499(c)(1) of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +290b(c)(1)) is amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(E) The Cures Acceleration Network described in + section 402C.''. + + (d) Establishment of the Cures Acceleration Network.--Part A of +title IV of the Public Health Service Act is amended by inserting after +section 402B (42 U.S.C. 282b) the following: + +``SEC. 402C. <> CURES ACCELERATION NETWORK. + + ``(a) Definitions.--In this section: + ``(1) Biological product.--The term `biological product' has + the meaning given such term in section 351 of the Public Health + Service Act. + ``(2) Drug; device.--The terms `drug' and `device' have the + meanings given such terms in section 201 of the Federal Food, + Drug, and Cosmetic Act. + ``(3) High need cure.--The term `high need cure' means a + drug (as that term is defined by section 201(g)(1) of the + Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act, biological product (as + that term is defined by section 262(i)), or device (as that term + is defined by section 201(h) of the Federal Food, Drug, and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 979]] + + Cosmetic Act) that, in the determination of the Director of + NIH-- + ``(A) is a priority to diagnose, mitigate, prevent, + or treat harm from any disease or condition; and + ``(B) for which the incentives of the commercial + market are unlikely to result in its adequate or timely + development. + ``(4) Medical product.--The term `medical product' means a + drug, device, biological product, or product that is a + combination of drugs, devices, and biological products. + + ``(b) Establishment of the Cures Acceleration Network.--Subject to +the appropriation of funds as described in subsection (g), there is +established within the Office of the Director of NIH a program to be +known as the Cures Acceleration Network (referred to in this section as +`CAN'), which shall-- + ``(1) be under the direction of the Director of NIH, taking + into account the recommendations of a CAN Review Board (referred + to in this section as the `Board'), described in subsection (d); + and + ``(2) <> award grants and + contracts to eligible entities, as described in subsection (e), + to accelerate the development of high need cures, including + through the development of medical products and behavioral + therapies. + + ``(c) Functions.--The functions of the CAN are to-- + ``(1) conduct and support revolutionary advances in basic + research, translating scientific discoveries from bench to + bedside; + ``(2) award grants and contracts to eligible entities to + accelerate the development of high need cures; + ``(3) provide the resources necessary for government + agencies, independent investigators, research organizations, + biotechnology companies, academic research institutions, and + other entities to develop high need cures; + ``(4) reduce the barriers between laboratory discoveries and + clinical trials for new therapies; and + ``(5) facilitate review in the Food and Drug Administration + for the high need cures funded by the CAN, through activities + that may include-- + ``(A) the facilitation of regular and ongoing + communication with the Food and Drug Administration + regarding the status of activities conducted under this + section; + ``(B) ensuring that such activities are coordinated + with the approval requirements of the Food and Drug + Administration, with the goal of expediting the + development and approval of countermeasures and + products; and + ``(C) connecting interested persons with additional + technical assistance made available under section 565 of + the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act. + + ``(d) CAN Board.-- + ``(1) Establishment.--There is established a Cures + Acceleration Network Review Board (referred to in this section + as the `Board'), which shall advise the Director of NIH on the + conduct of the activities of the Cures Acceleration Network. + ``(2) Membership.-- + ``(A) In general.-- + ``(i) Appointment.--The Board shall be + comprised of 24 members who are appointed by the + Secretary and who serve at the pleasure of the + Secretary. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 980]] + + ``(ii) Chairperson and vice chairperson.--The + Secretary shall designate, from among the 24 + members appointed under clause (i), one + Chairperson of the Board (referred to in this + section as the `Chairperson') and one Vice + Chairperson. + ``(B) Terms.-- + ``(i) In general.--Each member shall be + appointed to serve a 4-year term, except that any + member appointed to fill a vacancy occurring prior + to the expiration of the term for which the + member's predecessor was appointed shall be + appointed for the remainder of such term. + ``(ii) Consecutive appointments; maximum + terms.--A member may be appointed to serve not + more than 3 terms on the Board, and may not serve + more than 2 such terms consecutively. + ``(C) Qualifications.-- + ``(i) In general.--The Secretary shall appoint + individuals to the Board based solely upon the + individual's established record of distinguished + service in one of the areas of expertise described + in clause (ii). Each individual appointed to the + Board shall be of distinguished achievement and + have a broad range of disciplinary interests. + ``(ii) Expertise.--The Secretary shall select + individuals based upon the following requirements: + ``(I) For each of the fields of-- + ``(aa) basic research; + ``(bb) medicine; + ``(cc) biopharmaceuticals; + ``(dd) discovery and + delivery of medical products; + ``(ee) bioinformatics and + gene therapy; + ``(ff) medical + instrumentation; and + ``(gg) regulatory review and + approval of medical products, + the Secretary shall select at least 1 + individual who is eminent in such + fields. + ``(II) At least 4 individuals shall + be recognized leaders in professional + venture capital or private equity + organizations and have demonstrated + experience in private equity investing. + ``(III) At least 8 individuals shall + represent disease advocacy + organizations. + ``(3) Ex-officio members.-- + ``(A) Appointment.--In addition to the 24 Board + members described in paragraph (2), the Secretary shall + appoint as ex-officio members of the Board-- + ``(i) a representative of the National + Institutes of Health, recommended by the Secretary + of the Department of Health and Human Services; + ``(ii) a representative of the Office of the + Assistant Secretary of Defense for Health Affairs, + recommended by the Secretary of Defense; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 981]] + + ``(iii) a representative of the Office of the + Under Secretary for Health for the Veterans Health + Administration, recommended by the Secretary of + Veterans Affairs; + ``(iv) a representative of the National + Science Foundation, recommended by the Chair of + the National Science Board; and + ``(v) a representative of the Food and Drug + Administration, recommended by the Commissioner of + Food and Drugs. + ``(B) Terms.--Each ex-officio member shall serve a + 3-year term on the Board, except that the Chairperson + may adjust the terms of the initial ex-officio members + in order to provide for a staggered term of appointment + for all such members. + ``(4) Responsibilities of the board and the director of + nih.-- + ``(A) Responsibilities of the board.-- + ``(i) In general.-- <> The Board shall advise, and provide + recommendations to, the Director of NIH with + respect to-- + ``(I) policies, programs, and + procedures for carrying out the duties + of the Director of NIH under this + section; and + ``(II) significant barriers to + successful translation of basic science + into clinical application (including + issues under the purview of other + agencies and departments). + ``(ii) Report.--In the case that the Board + identifies a significant barrier, as described in + clause (i)(II), the Board shall submit to the + Secretary a report regarding such barrier. + ``(B) Responsibilities of the director of nih.--With + respect to each recommendation provided by the Board + under subparagraph (A)(i), the Director of NIH shall + respond in writing to the Board, indicating whether such + Director will implement such recommendation. In the case + that the Director of NIH indicates a recommendation of + the Board will not be implemented, such Director shall + provide an explanation of the reasons for not + implementing such recommendation. + ``(5) Meetings.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Board shall meet 4 times per + calendar year, at the call of the Chairperson. + ``(B) Quorum; requirements; limitations.-- + ``(i) Quorum.--A quorum shall consist of a + total of 13 members of the Board, excluding ex- + officio members, with diverse representation as + described in clause (iii). + ``(ii) Chairperson or vice chairperson.--Each + meeting of the Board shall be attended by either + the Chairperson or the Vice Chairperson. + ``(iii) Diverse representation.--At each + meeting of the Board, there shall be not less than + one scientist, one representative of a disease + advocacy organization, and one representative of a + professional venture capital or private equity + organization. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 982]] + + ``(6) Compensation and travel expenses.-- + ``(A) Compensation.--Members shall receive + compensation at a rate to be fixed by the Chairperson + but not to exceed a rate equal to the daily equivalent + of the annual rate of basic pay prescribed for level IV + of the Executive Schedule under section 5315 of title 5, + United States Code, for each day (including travel time) + during which the member is engaged in the performance of + the duties of the Board. All members of the Board who + are officers or employees of the United States shall + serve without compensation in addition to that received + for their services as officers or employees of the + United States. + ``(B) Travel expenses.--Members of the Board shall + be allowed travel expenses, including per diem in lieu + of subsistence, at rates authorized for persons employed + intermittently by the Federal Government under section + 5703(b) of title 5, United States Code, while away from + their homes or regular places of business in the + performance of services for the Board. + + ``(e) Grant Program.-- + ``(1) Supporting innovation.-- <> To carry + out the purposes described in this section, the Director of NIH + shall award contracts, grants, or cooperative agreements to the + entities described in paragraph (2), to-- + ``(A) promote innovation in technologies supporting + the advanced research and development and production of + high need cures, including through the development of + medical products and behavioral therapies. + ``(B) accelerate the development of high need cures, + including through the development of medical products, + behavioral therapies, and biomarkers that demonstrate + the safety or effectiveness of medical products; or + ``(C) help the award recipient establish protocols + that comply with Food and Drug Administration standards + and otherwise permit the recipient to meet regulatory + requirements at all stages of development, + manufacturing, review, approval, and safety surveillance + of a medical product. + ``(2) Eligible entities.--To receive assistance under + paragraph (1), an entity shall-- + ``(A) be a public or private entity, which may + include a private or public research institution, an + institution of higher education, a medical center, a + biotechnology company, a pharmaceutical company, a + disease advocacy organization, a patient advocacy + organization, or an academic research institution; + ``(B) submit an application containing-- + ``(i) a detailed description of the project + for which the entity seeks such grant or contract; + ``(ii) a timetable for such project; + ``(iii) an assurance that the entity will + submit-- + ``(I) interim reports describing the + entity's-- + ``(aa) progress in carrying + out the project; and + ``(bb) compliance with all + provisions of this section and + conditions of receipt of such + grant or contract; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 983]] + + ``(II) a final report at the + conclusion of the grant period, + describing the outcomes of the project; + and + ``(iv) a description of the protocols the + entity will follow to comply with Food and Drug + Administration standards and regulatory + requirements at all stages of development, + manufacturing, review, approval, and safety + surveillance of a medical product; and + ``(C) provide such additional information as the + Director of NIH may require. + ``(3) Awards.-- + ``(A) The cures acceleration partnership awards.-- + ``(i) Initial award amount.--Each award under + this subparagraph shall be not more than + $15,000,000 per project for the first fiscal year + for which the project is funded, which shall be + payable in one payment. + ``(ii) Funding in subsequent fiscal years.--An + eligible entity receiving an award under clause + (i) may apply for additional funding for such + project by submitting to the Director of NIH the + information required under subparagraphs (B) and + (C) of paragraph (2). The Director may fund a + project of such eligible entity in an amount not + to exceed $15,000,000 for a fiscal year subsequent + to the initial award under clause (i). + ``(iii) Matching funds.-- <> As a condition for receiving an award + under this subsection, an eligible entity shall + contribute to the project non-Federal funds in the + amount of $1 for every $3 awarded under clauses + (i) and (ii), except that the Director of NIH may + waive or modify such matching requirement in any + case where the Director determines that the goals + and objectives of this section cannot adequately + be carried out unless such requirement is waived. + ``(B) The cures acceleration grant awards.-- + ``(i) Initial award amount.--Each award under + this subparagraph shall be not more than + $15,000,000 per project for the first fiscal year + for which the project is funded, which shall be + payable in one payment. + ``(ii) Funding in subsequent fiscal years.--An + eligible entity receiving an award under clause + (i) may apply for additional funding for such + project by submitting to the Board the information + required under subparagraphs (B) and (C) of + paragraph (2). The Director of NIH may fund a + project of such eligible entity in an amount not + to exceed $15,000,000 for a fiscal year subsequent + to the initial award under clause (i). + ``(C) The cures acceleration flexible research + awards.-- <> If the Director of + NIH determines that the goals and objectives of this + section cannot adequately be carried out through a + contract, grant, or cooperative agreement, the Director + of NIH shall have flexible research authority to use + other transactions to fund projects in accordance with + the terms and conditions of this section. Awards made + under such flexible research authority for a fiscal year + shall not exceed 20 percent of the total funds + appropriated under subsection (g)(1) for such fiscal + year. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 984]] + + ``(4) Suspension of awards for defaults, noncompliance with + provisions and plans, and diversion of funds; repayment of + funds.--The Director of NIH may suspend the award to any entity + upon noncompliance by such entity with provisions and plans + under this section or diversion of funds. + ``(5) Audits.--The Director of NIH may enter into agreements + with other entities to conduct periodic audits of the projects + funded by grants or contracts awarded under this subsection. + ``(6) Closeout procedures.--At the end of a grant or + contract period, a recipient shall follow the closeout + procedures under section 74.71 of title 45, Code of Federal + Regulations (or any successor regulation). + ``(7) Review.--A determination by the Director of NIH as to + whether a drug, device, or biological product is a high need + cure (for purposes of subsection (a)(3)) shall not be subject to + judicial review. + + ``(f) Competitive Basis of Awards.--Any grant, cooperative +agreement, or contract awarded under this section shall be awarded on a +competitive basis. + ``(g) Authorization of Appropriations.-- + ``(1) In general.--For purposes of carrying out this + section, there are authorized to be appropriated $500,000,000 + for fiscal year 2010, and such sums as may be necessary for + subsequent fiscal years. Funds appropriated under this section + shall be available until expended. + ``(2) Limitation on use of funds otherwise appropriated.--No + funds appropriated under this Act, other than funds appropriated + under paragraph (1), may be allocated to the Cures Acceleration + Network.''. + +SEC. 10410. <> CENTERS OF EXCELLENCE FOR DEPRESSION. + + (a) Short Title.--This section may be cited as the ``Establishing a +Network of Health-Advancing National Centers of Excellence for +Depression Act of 2009'' or the ``ENHANCED Act of 2009''. + (b) Centers of Excellence for Depression.--Subpart 3 of part B of +title V of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 290bb et seq.) is +amended by inserting after section 520A the following: + +``SEC. 520B. <> NATIONAL CENTERS OF EXCELLENCE + FOR DEPRESSION. + + ``(a) Depressive Disorder Defined.--In this section, the term +`depressive disorder' means a mental or brain disorder relating to +depression, including major depression, bipolar disorder, and related +mood disorders. + ``(b) Grant Program.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary, acting through the + Administrator, shall award grants on a competitive basis to + eligible entities to establish national centers of excellence + for depression (referred to in this section as `Centers'), which + shall engage in activities related to the treatment of + depressive disorders. + ``(2) Allocation of awards.-- <> If the + funds authorized under subsection (f) are appropriated in the + amounts provided for under such subsection, the Secretary shall + allocate such amounts so that-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 985]] + + ``(A) not later than 1 year after the date of + enactment of the ENHANCED Act of 2009, not more than 20 + Centers may be established; and + ``(B) not later than September 30, 2016, not more + than 30 Centers may be established. + ``(3) Grant period.-- + ``(A) In general.--A grant awarded under this + section shall be for a period of 5 years. + ``(B) Renewal.--A grant awarded under subparagraph + (A) may be renewed, on a competitive basis, for 1 + additional 5-year period, at the discretion of the + Secretary. In determining whether to renew a grant, the + Secretary shall consider the report cards issued under + subsection (e)(2). + ``(4) Use of funds.--Grant funds awarded under this + subsection shall be used for the establishment and ongoing + activities of the recipient of such funds. + ``(5) Eligible entities.-- + ``(A) Requirements.--To be eligible to receive a + grant under this section, an entity shall-- + ``(i) be an institution of higher education or + a public or private nonprofit research + institution; and + ``(ii) submit an application to the Secretary + at such time and in such manner as the Secretary + may require, as described in subparagraph (B). + ``(B) Application.--An application described in + subparagraph (A)(ii) shall include-- + ``(i) evidence that such entity-- + ``(I) provides, or is capable of + coordinating with other entities to + provide, comprehensive health services + with a focus on mental health services + and subspecialty expertise for + depressive disorders; + ``(II) collaborates with other + mental health providers, as necessary, + to address co-occurring mental + illnesses; + ``(III) is capable of training + health professionals about mental + health; and + ``(ii) such other information, as the + Secretary may require. + ``(C) Priorities.--In awarding grants under this + section, the Secretary shall give priority to eligible + entities that meet 1 or more of the following criteria: + ``(i) Demonstrated capacity and expertise to + serve the targeted population. + ``(ii) Existing infrastructure or expertise to + provide appropriate, evidence-based and culturally + and linguistically competent services. + ``(iii) A location in a geographic area with + disproportionate numbers of underserved and at- + risk populations in medically underserved areas + and health professional shortage areas. + ``(iv) Proposed innovative approaches for + outreach to initiate or expand services. + ``(v) Use of the most up-to-date science, + practices, and interventions available. + ``(vi) Demonstrated capacity to establish + cooperative and collaborative agreements with + community mental health centers and other + community entities + +[[Page 124 STAT. 986]] + + to provide mental health, social, and human + services to individuals with depressive disorders. + ``(6) National coordinating center.-- + ``(A) In general.-- <> The + Secretary, acting through the Administrator, shall + designate 1 recipient of a grant under this section to + be the coordinating center of excellence for depression + (referred to in this section as the `coordinating + center'). The Secretary shall select such coordinating + center on a competitive basis, based upon the + demonstrated capacity of such center to perform the + duties described in subparagraph (C). + ``(B) Application.--A Center that has been awarded a + grant under paragraph (1) may apply for designation as + the coordinating center by submitting an application to + the Secretary at such time, in such manner, and + containing such information as the Secretary may + require. + ``(C) Duties.--The coordinating center shall-- + ``(i) develop, administer, and coordinate the + network of Centers under this section; + ``(ii) oversee and coordinate the national + database described in subsection (d); + ``(iii) lead a strategy to disseminate the + findings and activities of the Centers through + such database; and + ``(iv) serve as a liaison with the + Administration, the National Registry of Evidence- + based Programs and Practices of the + Administration, and any Federal interagency or + interagency forum on mental health. + ``(7) Matching funds.--The Secretary may not award a grant + or contract under this section to an entity unless the entity + agrees that it will make available (directly or through + contributions from other public or private entities) non-Federal + contributions toward the activities to be carried out under the + grant or contract in an amount equal to $1 for each $5 of + Federal funds provided under the grant or contract. Such non- + Federal matching funds may be provided directly or through + donations from public or private entities and may be in cash or + in-kind, fairly evaluated, including plant, equipment, or + services. + + ``(c) Activities of the Centers.--Each Center shall carry out the +following activities: + ``(1) General activities.--Each Center shall-- + ``(A) integrate basic, clinical, or health services + interdisciplinary research and practice in the + development, implementation, and dissemination of + evidence-based interventions; + ``(B) involve a broad cross-section of stakeholders, + such as researchers, clinicians, consumers, families of + consumers, and voluntary health organizations, to + develop a research agenda and disseminate findings, and + to provide support in the implementation of evidence- + based practices; + ``(C) provide training and technical assistance to + mental health professionals, and engage in and + disseminate translational research with a focus on + meeting the needs of individuals with depressive + disorders; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 987]] + + ``(D) educate policy makers, employers, community + leaders, and the public about depressive disorders to + reduce stigma and raise awareness of treatments. + ``(2) Improved treatment standards, clinical guidelines, + diagnostic protocols, and care coordination practice.--Each + Center shall collaborate with other Centers in the network to-- + ``(A) develop and implement treatment standards, + clinical guidelines, and protocols that emphasize + primary prevention, early intervention, treatment for, + and recovery from, depressive disorders; + ``(B) foster communication with other providers + attending to co-occurring physical health conditions + such as cardiovascular, diabetes, cancer, and substance + abuse disorders; + ``(C) leverage available community resources, + develop and implement improved self-management programs, + and, when appropriate, involve family and other + providers of social support in the development and + implementation of care plans; and + ``(D) use electronic health records and telehealth + technology to better coordinate and manage, and improve + access to, care, as determined by the coordinating + center. + ``(3) Translational research through collaboration of + centers and community-based organizations.--Each Center shall-- + ``(A) demonstrate effective use of a public-private + partnership to foster collaborations among members of + the network and community-based organizations such as + community mental health centers and other social and + human services providers; + ``(B) expand interdisciplinary, translational, and + patient-oriented research and treatment; and + ``(C) coordinate with accredited academic programs + to provide ongoing opportunities for the professional + and continuing education of mental health providers. + + ``(d) National Database.-- + ``(1) In general.--The coordinating center shall establish + and maintain a national, publicly available database to improve + prevention programs, evidence-based interventions, and disease + management programs for depressive disorders, using data + collected from the Centers, as described in paragraph (2). + ``(2) Data collection.--Each Center shall submit data + gathered at such center, as appropriate, to the coordinating + center regarding-- + ``(A) the prevalence and incidence of depressive + disorders; + ``(B) the health and social outcomes of individuals + with depressive disorders; + ``(C) the effectiveness of interventions designed, + tested, and evaluated; + ``(D) other information, as the Secretary may + require. + ``(3) Submission of data to the administrator.--The + coordinating center shall submit to the Administrator the data + and financial information gathered under paragraph (2). + ``(4) Publication using data from the database.--A Center, + or an individual affiliated with a Center, may publish + +[[Page 124 STAT. 988]] + + findings using the data described in paragraph (2) only if such + center submits such data to the coordinating center, as required + under such paragraph. + + ``(e) Establishment of Standards; Report Cards and Recommendations; +Third Party Review.-- + ``(1) Establishment of standards.--The Secretary, acting + through the Administrator, shall establish performance standards + for-- + ``(A) each Center; and + ``(B) the network of Centers as a whole. + ``(2) Report cards.--The Secretary, acting through the + Administrator, shall-- + ``(A) for each Center, not later than 3 years after + the date on which such center of excellence is + established and annually thereafter, issue a report card + to the coordinating center to rate the performance of + such Center; and + ``(B) not later than 3 years after the date on which + the first grant is awarded under subsection (b)(1) and + annually thereafter, issue a report card to Congress to + rate the performance of the network of centers of + excellence as a whole. + ``(3) Recommendations.--Based upon the report cards + described in paragraph (2), the Secretary shall, not later than + September 30, 2015-- + ``(A) make recommendations to the Centers regarding + improvements such centers shall make; and + ``(B) make recommendations to Congress for expanding + the Centers to serve individuals with other types of + mental disorders. + ``(4) Third party review.--Not later than 3 years after the + date on which the first grant is awarded under subsection (b)(1) + and annually thereafter, the Secretary shall arrange for an + independent third party to conduct an evaluation of the network + of Centers to ensure that such centers are meeting the goals of + this section. + + ``(f) Authorization of Appropriations.-- + ``(1) In general.--To carry out this section, there are + authorized to be appropriated-- + ``(A) $100,000,000 for each of the fiscal years 2011 + through 2015; and + ``(B) $150,000,000 for each of the fiscal years 2016 + through 2020. + ``(2) Allocation of funds authorized.-- + <> Of the amount appropriated under + paragraph (1) for a fiscal year, the Secretary shall determine + the allocation of each Center receiving a grant under this + section, but in no case may the allocation be more than + $5,000,000, except that the Secretary may allocate not more than + $10,000,000 to the coordinating center.''. + +SEC. 10411. <> PROGRAMS RELATING TO CONGENITAL HEART DISEASE. + + (a) Short Title.--This subtitle may be cited as the ``Congenital +Heart Futures Act''. + (b) Programs Relating to Congenital Heart Disease.-- + (1) National congenital heart disease surveillance system.-- + Part P of title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. + 280g et seq.), as amended by section 5405, is further amended by + adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 989]] + +``SEC. 399V-2. <> NATIONAL CONGENITAL HEART + DISEASE SURVEILLANCE SYSTEM. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary, acting through the Director of the +Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, may-- + ``(1) enhance and expand infrastructure to track the + epidemiology of congenital heart disease and to organize such + information into a nationally-representative, population-based + surveillance system that compiles data concerning actual + occurrences of congenital heart disease, to be known as the + `National Congenital Heart Disease Surveillance System'; or + ``(2) award a grant to one eligible entity to undertake the + activities described in paragraph (1). + + ``(b) Purpose.--The purpose of the Congenital Heart Disease +Surveillance System shall be to facilitate further research into the +types of health services patients use and to identify possible areas for +educational outreach and prevention in accordance with standard +practices of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. + ``(c) Content.--The Congenital Heart Disease Surveillance System-- + ``(1) may include information concerning the incidence and + prevalence of congenital heart disease in the United States; + ``(2) may be used to collect and store data on congenital + heart disease, including data concerning-- + ``(A) demographic factors associated with congenital + heart disease, such as age, race, ethnicity, sex, and + family history of individuals who are diagnosed with the + disease; + ``(B) risk factors associated with the disease; + ``(C) causation of the disease; + ``(D) treatment approaches; and + ``(E) outcome measures, such that analysis of the + outcome measures will allow derivation of evidence-based + best practices and guidelines for congenital heart + disease patients; and + ``(3) may ensure the collection and analysis of longitudinal + data related to individuals of all ages with congenital heart + disease, including infants, young children, adolescents, and + adults of all ages. + + ``(d) Public Access.--The Congenital Heart Disease Surveillance +System shall be made available to the public, as appropriate, including +congenital heart disease researchers. + ``(e) Patient Privacy.--The Secretary shall ensure that the +Congenital Heart Disease Surveillance System is maintained in a manner +that complies with the regulations promulgated under section 264 of the +Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996. + ``(f) Eligibility for Grant.--To be eligible to receive a grant +under subsection (a)(2), an entity shall-- + ``(1) be a public or private nonprofit entity with + specialized experience in congenital heart disease; and + ``(2) submit to the Secretary an application at such time, + in such manner, and containing such information as the Secretary + may require.''. + (2) Congenital heart disease research.--Subpart 2 of part C + of title IV of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 285b et + seq.) is amended by adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 990]] + +``SEC. 425. <> CONGENITAL HEART DISEASE. + + ``(a) In General.--The Director of the Institute may expand, +intensify, and coordinate research and related activities of the +Institute with respect to congenital heart disease, which may include +congenital heart disease research with respect to-- + ``(1) causation of congenital heart disease, including + genetic causes; + ``(2) long-term outcomes in individuals with congenital + heart disease, including infants, children, teenagers, adults, + and elderly individuals; + ``(3) diagnosis, treatment, and prevention; + ``(4) studies using longitudinal data and retrospective + analysis to identify effective treatments and outcomes for + individuals with congenital heart disease; and + ``(5) identifying barriers to life-long care for individuals + with congenital heart disease. + + ``(b) Coordination of Research Activities.--The Director of the +Institute may coordinate research efforts related to congenital heart +disease among multiple research institutions and may develop research +networks. + ``(c) Minority and Medically Underserved Communities.--In carrying +out the activities described in this section, the Director of the +Institute shall consider the application of such research and other +activities to minority and medically underserved communities.''. + (c) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out the amendments made by this section such sums +as may be necessary for each of fiscal years 2011 through 2015. + +SEC. 10412. AUTOMATED DEFIBRILLATION IN ADAM'S MEMORY ACT. + + Section 312 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 244) is +amended-- + (1) in subsection (c)(6), after ``clearinghouse'' insert ``, + that shall be administered by an organization that has + substantial expertise in pediatric education, pediatric + medicine, and electrophysiology and sudden death,''; and + (2) in the first sentence of subsection (e), by striking + ``fiscal year 2003'' and all that follows through ``2006'' and + inserting ``for each of fiscal years 2003 through 2014''. + +SEC. 10413. <> YOUNG WOMEN'S BREAST HEALTH AWARENESS AND SUPPORT OF + YOUNG WOMEN DIAGNOSED WITH BREAST CANCER. + + (a) Short Title.--This section may be cited as the ``Young Women's +Breast Health Education and Awareness Requires Learning Young Act of +2009'' or the ``EARLY Act''. + (b) Amendment.--Title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 241 et seq.), as amended by this Act, is further amended by +adding at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 991]] + + ``PART V--PROGRAMS RELATING TO BREAST HEALTH AND CANCER + +``SEC. 399NN. <> YOUNG WOMEN'S BREAST HEALTH + AWARENESS AND SUPPORT OF YOUNG WOMEN DIAGNOSED WITH BREAST + CANCER. + + ``(a) Public Education Campaign.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary, acting through the + Director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, + shall conduct a national evidence-based education campaign to + increase awareness of young women's knowledge regarding-- + ``(A) breast health in young women of all racial, + ethnic, and cultural backgrounds; + ``(B) breast awareness and good breast health + habits; + ``(C) the occurrence of breast cancer and the + general and specific risk factors in women who may be at + high risk for breast cancer based on familial, racial, + ethnic, and cultural backgrounds such as Ashkenazi + Jewish populations; + ``(D) evidence-based information that would + encourage young women and their health care professional + to increase early detection of breast cancers; and + ``(E) the availability of health information and + other resources for young women diagnosed with breast + cancer. + ``(2) Evidence-based, age appropriate messages.--The + campaign shall provide evidence-based, age-appropriate messages + and materials as developed by the Centers for Disease Control + and Prevention and the Advisory Committee established under + paragraph (4). + ``(3) Media campaign.-- <> In conducting the + education campaign under paragraph (1), the Secretary shall + award grants to entities to establish national multimedia + campaigns oriented to young women that may include advertising + through television, radio, print media, billboards, posters, all + forms of existing and especially emerging social networking + media, other Internet media, and any other medium determined + appropriate by the Secretary. + ``(4) Advisory committee.-- + ``(A) Establishment.-- <> Not later + than 60 days after the date of the enactment of this + section, the Secretary, acting through the Director of + the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, shall + establish an advisory committee to assist in creating + and conducting the education campaigns under paragraph + (1) and subsection (b)(1). + ``(B) Membership.-- <> The + Secretary, acting through the Director of the Centers + for Disease Control and Prevention, shall appoint to the + advisory committee under subparagraph (A) such members + as deemed necessary to properly advise the Secretary, + and shall include organizations and individuals with + expertise in breast cancer, disease prevention, early + detection, diagnosis, public health, social marketing, + genetic screening and counseling, treatment, + rehabilitation, palliative care, and survivorship in + young women. + + ``(b) Health Care Professional Education Campaign.--The Secretary, +acting through the Director of the Centers for Disease + +[[Page 124 STAT. 992]] + +Control and Prevention, and in consultation with the Administrator of +the Health Resources and Services Administration, shall conduct an +education campaign among physicians and other health care professionals +to increase awareness-- + ``(1) of breast health, symptoms, and early diagnosis and + treatment of breast cancer in young women, including specific + risk factors such as family history of cancer and women that may + be at high risk for breast cancer, such as Ashkenazi Jewish + population; + ``(2) on how to provide counseling to young women about + their breast health, including knowledge of their family cancer + history and importance of providing regular clinical breast + examinations; + ``(3) concerning the importance of discussing healthy + behaviors, and increasing awareness of services and programs + available to address overall health and wellness, and making + patient referrals to address tobacco cessation, good nutrition, + and physical activity; + ``(4) on when to refer patients to a health care provider + with genetics expertise; + ``(5) on how to provide counseling that addresses long-term + survivorship and health concerns of young women diagnosed with + breast cancer; and + ``(6) on when to provide referrals to organizations and + institutions that provide credible health information and + substantive assistance and support to young women diagnosed with + breast cancer. + + ``(c) Prevention Research Activities.--The Secretary, acting +through-- + ``(1) the Director of the Centers for Disease Control and + Prevention, shall conduct prevention research on breast cancer + in younger women, including-- + ``(A) behavioral, survivorship studies, and other + research on the impact of breast cancer diagnosis on + young women; + ``(B) formative research to assist with the + development of educational messages and information for + the public, targeted populations, and their families + about breast health, breast cancer, and healthy + lifestyles; + ``(C) testing and evaluating existing and new social + marketing strategies targeted at young women; and + ``(D) surveys of health care providers and the + public regarding knowledge, attitudes, and practices + related to breast health and breast cancer prevention + and control in high-risk populations; and + ``(2) the Director of the National Institutes of Health, + shall conduct research to develop and validate new screening + tests and methods for prevention and early detection of breast + cancer in young women. + + ``(d) Support for Young Women Diagnosed With Breast Cancer.-- + ``(1) In general.-- <> The Secretary shall + award grants to organizations and institutions to provide health + information from credible sources and substantive assistance + directed to young women diagnosed with breast cancer and pre- + neoplastic breast diseases. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 993]] + + ``(2) Priority.--In making grants under paragraph (1), the + Secretary shall give priority to applicants that deal + specifically with young women diagnosed with breast cancer and + pre-neoplastic breast disease. + + ``(e) No Duplication of Effort.--In conducting an education campaign +or other program under subsections (a), (b), (c), or (d), the Secretary +shall avoid duplicating other existing Federal breast cancer education +efforts. + ``(f) Measurement; Reporting.--The Secretary, acting through the +Director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, shall-- + ``(1) measure-- + ``(A) young women's awareness regarding breast + health, including knowledge of family cancer history, + specific risk factors and early warning signs, and young + women's proactive efforts at early detection; + ``(B) the number or percentage of young women + utilizing information regarding lifestyle interventions + that foster healthy behaviors; + ``(C) the number or percentage of young women + receiving regular clinical breast exams; and + ``(D) the number or percentage of young women who + perform breast self exams, and the frequency of such + exams, before the implementation of this section; + ``(2) not less than every 3 years, measure the impact of + such activities; and + ``(3) submit reports to the Congress on the results of such + measurements. + + ``(g) Definition.--In this section, the term `young women' means +women 15 to 44 years of age. + ``(h) Authorization of Appropriations.--To carry out subsections +(a), (b), (c)(1), and (d), there are authorized to be appropriated +$9,000,000 for each of the fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + + Subtitle E--Provisions Relating to Title V + +SEC. 10501. AMENDMENTS TO THE PUBLIC HEALTH SERVICE ACT, THE SOCIAL + SECURITY ACT, AND TITLE V OF THIS ACT. + + (a) Section 5101 of this Act <> is amended-- + (1) in subsection (c)(2)(B)(i)(II), by inserting ``, + including representatives of small business and self-employed + individuals'' after ``employers''; + (2) in subsection (d)(4)(A)-- + (A) by redesignating clause (iv) as clause (v); and + (B) by inserting after clause (iii) the following: + ``(iv) An analysis of, and recommendations + for, eliminating the barriers to entering and + staying in primary care, including provider + compensation.''; and + (3) in subsection (i)(2)(B), by inserting ``optometrists, + ophthalmologists,'' after ``occupational therapists,''. + + (b) Subtitle B of title V of this Act is amended by adding at the +end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 994]] + +``SEC. 5104. INTERAGENCY TASK FORCE TO ASSESS AND IMPROVE ACCESS TO + HEALTH CARE IN THE STATE OF ALASKA. + + ``(a) Establishment.--There is established a task force to be known +as the `Interagency Access to Health Care in Alaska Task Force' +(referred to in this section as the `Task Force'). + ``(b) Duties.--The Task Force shall-- + ``(1) assess access to health care for beneficiaries of + Federal health care systems in Alaska; and + ``(2) develop a strategy for the Federal Government to + improve delivery of health care to Federal beneficiaries in the + State of Alaska. + + ``(c) Membership.-- <> The Task Force shall be +comprised of Federal members who shall be appointed, not later than 45 +days after the date of enactment of this Act, as follows: + ``(1) The Secretary of Health and Human Services shall + appoint one representative of each of the following: + ``(A) The Department of Health and Human Services. + ``(B) The Centers for Medicare and Medicaid + Services. + ``(C) The Indian Health Service. + ``(2) The Secretary of Defense shall appoint one + representative of the TRICARE Management Activity. + ``(3) The Secretary of the Army shall appoint one + representative of the Army Medical Department. + ``(4) The Secretary of the Air Force shall appoint one + representative of the Air Force, from among officers at the Air + Force performing medical service functions. + ``(5) The Secretary of Veterans Affairs shall appoint one + representative of each of the following: + ``(A) The Department of Veterans Affairs. + ``(B) The Veterans Health Administration. + ``(6) The Secretary of Homeland Security shall appoint one + representative of the United States Coast Guard. + + ``(d) Chairperson.--One chairperson of the Task Force shall be +appointed by the Secretary at the time of appointment of members under +subsection (c), selected from among the members appointed under +paragraph (1). + ``(e) Meetings.--The Task Force shall meet at the call of the +chairperson. + ``(f) Report.--Not later than 180 days after the date of enactment +of this Act, the Task Force shall submit to Congress a report detailing +the activities of the Task Force and containing the findings, +strategies, recommendations, policies, and initiatives developed +pursuant to the duty described in subsection (b)(2). In preparing such +report, the Task Force shall consider completed and ongoing efforts by +Federal agencies to improve access to health care in the State of +Alaska. + ``(g) Termination.--The Task Force shall be terminated on the date +of submission of the report described in subsection (f).''. + (c) Section 399V of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 5313, <> is amended-- + (1) in subsection (b)(4), by striking ``identify, educate, + refer, and enroll'' and inserting ``identify and refer''; and + (2) in subsection (k)(1), by striking ``, as defined by the + Department of Labor as Standard Occupational Classification [21- + 1094]''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 995]] + + (d) Section 738(a)(3) of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +293b(a)(3)) is amended by inserting ``schools offering physician +assistant education programs,'' after ``public health,''. + (e) Subtitle D of title V of this Act is amended by adding at the +end the following: + +``SEC. 5316. <> DEMONSTRATION GRANTS FOR FAMILY + NURSE PRACTITIONER TRAINING PROGRAMS. + + ``(a) Establishment of Program.--The Secretary of Health and Human +Services (referred to in this section as the `Secretary') shall +establish a training demonstration program for family nurse +practitioners (referred to in this section as the `program') to employ +and provide 1-year training for nurse practitioners who have graduated +from a nurse practitioner program for careers as primary care providers +in Federally qualified health centers (referred to in this section as +`FQHCs') and nurse-managed health clinics (referred to in this section +as `NMHCs'). + ``(b) Purpose.--The purpose of the program is to enable each grant +recipient to-- + ``(1) provide new nurse practitioners with clinical training + to enable them to serve as primary care providers in FQHCs and + NMHCs; + ``(2) train new nurse practitioners to work under a model of + primary care that is consistent with the principles set forth by + the Institute of Medicine and the needs of vulnerable + populations; and + ``(3) create a model of FQHC and NMHC training for nurse + practitioners that may be replicated nationwide. + + ``(c) Grants.--The Secretary shall award 3-year grants to eligible +entities that meet the requirements established by the Secretary, for +the purpose of operating the nurse practitioner primary care programs +described in subsection (a) in such entities. + ``(d) Eligible Entities.--To be eligible to receive a grant under +this section, an entity shall-- + ``(1)(A) be a FQHC as defined in section 1861(aa) of the + Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395x(aa)); or + ``(B) be a nurse-managed health clinic, as defined in + section 330A-1 of the Public Health Service Act (as added by + section 5208 of this Act); and + ``(2) submit to the Secretary an application at such time, + in such manner, and containing such information as the Secretary + may require. + + ``(e) Priority in Awarding Grants.--In awarding grants under this +section, the Secretary shall give priority to eligible entities that-- + ``(1) demonstrate sufficient infrastructure in size, scope, + and capacity to undertake the requisite training of a minimum of + 3 nurse practitioners per year, and to provide to each awardee + 12 full months of full-time, paid employment and benefits + consistent with the benefits offered to other full-time + employees of such entity; + ``(2) will assign not less than 1 staff nurse practitioner + or physician to each of 4 precepted clinics; + ``(3) will provide to each awardee specialty rotations, + including specialty training in prenatal care and women's + health, adult and child psychiatry, orthopedics, geriatrics, and + at least 3 other high-volume, high-burden specialty areas; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 996]] + + ``(4) provide sessions on high-volume, high-risk health + problems and have a record of training health care professionals + in the care of children, older adults, and underserved + populations; and + ``(5) collaborate with other safety net providers, schools, + colleges, and universities that provide health professions + training. + + ``(f) Eligibility of Nurse Practitioners.-- + ``(1) In general.--To be eligible for acceptance to a + program funded through a grant awarded under this section, an + individual shall-- + ``(A) be licensed or eligible for licensure in the + State in which the program is located as an advanced + practice registered nurse or advanced practice nurse and + be eligible or board-certified as a family nurse + practitioner; and + ``(B) demonstrate commitment to a career as a + primary care provider in a FQHC or in a NMHC. + ``(2) Preference.--In selecting awardees under the program, + each grant recipient shall give preference to bilingual + candidates that meet the requirements described in paragraph + (1). + ``(3) Deferral of certain service.--The starting date of + required service of individuals in the National Health Service + Corps Service program under title II of the Public Health + Service Act (42 U.S.C. 202 et seq.) who receive training under + this section shall be deferred until the date that is 22 days + after the date of completion of the program. + + ``(g) Grant Amount.--Each grant awarded under this section shall be +in an amount not to exceed $600,000 per year. A grant recipient may +carry over funds from 1 fiscal year to another without obtaining +approval from the Secretary. + ``(h) Technical Assistance Grants.--The Secretary may award +technical assistance grants to 1 or more FQHCs or NMHCs that have +demonstrated expertise in establishing a nurse practitioner residency +training program. Such technical assistance grants shall be for the +purpose of providing technical assistance to other recipients of grants +under subsection (c). + ``(i) Authorization of Appropriations.--To carry out this section, +there is authorized to be appropriated such sums as may be necessary for +each of fiscal years 2011 through 2014.''. + (f)(1) Section 399W of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 5405, <> is redesignated as section 399V- +1. + + (2) Section 399V-1 of the Public Health Service Act, as so +redesignated, is amended in subsection (b)(2)(A) by striking ``and the +departments of 1 or more health professions schools in the State that +train providers in primary care'' and inserting ``and the departments +that train providers in primary care in 1 or more health professions +schools in the State''. + (3) Section 934 of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 3501, <> is amended by striking ``399W'' +each place such term appears and inserting ``399V-1''. + + (4) Section 935(b) of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 3503, <> is amended by striking ``399W'' +and inserting ``399V-1''. + + (g) Part P of title III of the Public Health Service Act 42 U.S.C. +280g et seq.), as amended by section 10411, is amended by adding at the +end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 997]] + +``SEC. 399V-3. <> NATIONAL DIABETES PREVENTION + PROGRAM. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary, acting through the Director of the +Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, shall establish a national +diabetes prevention program (referred to in this section as the +`program') targeted at adults at high risk for diabetes in order to +eliminate the preventable burden of diabetes. + ``(b) Program Activities.--The program described in subsection (a) +shall include-- + ``(1) a grant program for community-based diabetes + prevention program model sites; + ``(2) a program within the Centers for Disease Control and + Prevention to determine eligibility of entities to deliver + community-based diabetes prevention services; + ``(3) a training and outreach program for lifestyle + intervention instructors; and + ``(4) evaluation, monitoring and technical assistance, and + applied research carried out by the Centers for Disease Control + and Prevention. + + ``(c) Eligible Entities.--To be eligible for a grant under +subsection (b)(1), an entity shall be a State or local health +department, a tribal organization, a national network of community-based +non-profits focused on health and wellbeing, an academic institution, or +other entity, as the Secretary determines. + ``(d) Authorization of Appropriations.--For the purpose of carrying +out this section, there are authorized to be appropriated such sums as +may be necessary for each of fiscal years 2010 through 2014.''. + (h) The provisions of, and amendment made by, section 5501(c) of +this Act <> are repealed. + + (i)(1) The provisions of, and amendments made by, section 5502 of +this Act <> are +repealed. + + (2)(A) Section 1861(aa)(3)(A) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395w(aa)(3)(A)) is amended to read as follows: + ``(A) services of the type described in subparagraphs (A) + through (C) of paragraph (1) and preventive services (as defined + in section 1861(ddd)(3)); and''. + + (B) <> The amendment made +by subparagraph (A) shall apply to services furnished on or after +January 1, 2011. + + (3)(A) Section 1834 of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395m), as +amended by section 4105, is amended by adding at the end the following +new subsection: + ``(o) Development and Implementation of Prospective Payment +System.-- + ``(1) Development.-- + ``(A) In general.--The Secretary shall develop a + prospective payment system for payment for Federally + qualified health center services furnished by Federally + qualified health centers under this title. Such system + shall include a process for appropriately describing the + services furnished by Federally qualified health centers + and shall establish payment rates for specific payment + codes based on such appropriate descriptions of + services. Such system shall be established to take into + account the type, intensity, and duration of services + furnished by Federally qualified health centers. Such + system may include adjustments, including geographic + adjustments, determined appropriate by the Secretary. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 998]] + + ``(B) Collection of data and evaluation.-- + <> By not later than January 1, 2011, + the Secretary shall require Federally qualified health + centers to submit to the Secretary such information as + the Secretary may require in order to develop and + implement the prospective payment system under this + subsection, including the reporting of services using + HCPCS codes. + ``(2) Implementation.-- + ``(A) In general.--Notwithstanding section + 1833(a)(3)(A), the Secretary shall provide, for cost + reporting periods beginning on or after October 1, 2014, + for payments of prospective payment rates for Federally + qualified health center services furnished by Federally + qualified health centers under this title in accordance + with the prospective payment system developed by the + Secretary under paragraph (1). + ``(B) Payments.-- + ``(i) Initial payments.--The Secretary shall + implement such prospective payment system so that + the estimated aggregate amount of prospective + payment rates (determined prior to the application + of section 1833(a)(1)(Z)) under this title for + Federally qualified health center services in the + first year that such system is implemented is + equal to 100 percent of the estimated amount of + reasonable costs (determined without the + application of a per visit payment limit or + productivity screen and prior to the application + of section 1866(a)(2)(A)(ii)) that would have + occurred for such services under this title in + such year if the system had not been implemented. + ``(ii) Payments in subsequent years.--Payment + rates in years after the year of implementation of + such system shall be the payment rates in the + previous year increased-- + ``(I) in the first year after + implementation of such system, by the + percentage increase in the MEI (as + defined in section 1842(i)(3)) for the + year involved; and + ``(II) in subsequent years, by the + percentage increase in a market basket + of Federally qualified health center + goods and services as promulgated + through regulations, or if such an index + is not available, by the percentage + increase in the MEI (as defined in + section 1842(i)(3)) for the year + involved. + ``(C) Preparation for pps implementation.-- + Notwithstanding any other provision of law, the + Secretary may establish and implement by program + instruction or otherwise the payment codes to be used + under the prospective payment system under this + section.''. + + (B) Section 1833(a)(1) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. +1395l(a)(1)), as amended by section 4104, is amended-- + (i) by striking ``and'' before ``(Y)''; and + (ii) by inserting before the semicolon at the end the + following: ``, and (Z) with respect to Federally qualified + health center services for which payment is made under section + 1834(o), the amounts paid shall be 80 percent of the lesser + +[[Page 124 STAT. 999]] + + of the actual charge or the amount determined under such + section''. + + (C) Section 1833(a) of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395l(a)) +is amended-- + (i) in paragraph (3)(B)(i)-- + (I) by inserting ``(I)'' after ``otherwise been + provided''; and + (II) by inserting ``, or (II) in the case of such + services furnished on or after the implementation date + of the prospective payment system under section 1834(o), + under such section (calculated as if `100 percent' were + substituted for `80 percent' in such section) for such + services if the individual had not been so enrolled'' + after ``been so enrolled''; and + (ii) by adding at the end the following flush sentence: + ``Paragraph (3)(A) shall not apply to Federally qualified health + center services furnished on or after the implementation date of + the prospective payment system under section 1834(0).''. + + (j) Section 5505 <> is amended by adding +at the end the following new subsection: + + ``(d) Application.--The amendments made by this section shall not be +applied in a manner that requires reopening of any settled cost reports +as to which there is not a jurisdictionally proper appeal pending as of +the date of the enactment of this Act on the issue of payment for +indirect costs of medical education under section 1886(d)(5)(B) of the +Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395ww(d)(5)(B)) or for direct graduate +medical education costs under section 1886(h) of such Act (42 U.S.C. +1395ww(h)).''. + (k) Subtitle G of title V of this Act is amended by adding at the +end the following: + +``SEC. 5606. <> STATE GRANTS TO HEALTH CARE + PROVIDERS WHO PROVIDE SERVICES TO A HIGH PERCENTAGE OF + MEDICALLY UNDERSERVED POPULATIONS OR OTHER SPECIAL + POPULATIONS. + + ``(a) In General.--A State may award grants to health care providers +who treat a high percentage, as determined by such State, of medically +underserved populations or other special populations in such State. + ``(b) Source of Funds.--A grant program established by a State under +subsection (a) may not be established within a department, agency, or +other entity of such State that administers the Medicaid program under +title XIX of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1396 et seq.), and no +Federal or State funds allocated to such Medicaid program, the Medicare +program under title XVIII of the Social Security Act (42 U.S.C. 1395 et +seq.), or the TRICARE program under chapter 55 of title 10, United +States Code, may be used to award grants or to pay administrative costs +associated with a grant program established under subsection (a).''. + (l) Part C of title VII of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +293k et seq.) is amended-- + (1) after the part heading, by inserting the following: + + ``Subpart I--Medical Training Generally''; + + and + (2) by inserting at the end the following: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1000]] + + ``Subpart II--Training in Underserved Communities + +``SEC. 749B. <> RURAL PHYSICIAN TRAINING GRANTS. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary, acting through the Administrator +of the Health Resources and Services Administration, shall establish a +grant program for the purposes of assisting eligible entities in +recruiting students most likely to practice medicine in underserved +rural communities, providing rural-focused training and experience, and +increasing the number of recent allopathic and osteopathic medical +school graduates who practice in underserved rural communities. + ``(b) Eligible Entities.--In order to be eligible to receive a grant +under this section, an entity shall-- + ``(1) be a school of allopathic or osteopathic medicine + accredited by a nationally recognized accrediting agency or + association approved by the Secretary for this purpose, or any + combination or consortium of such schools; and + ``(2) submit an application to the Secretary that includes a + certification that such entity will use amounts provided to the + institution as described in subsection (d)(1). + + ``(c) Priority.--In awarding grant funds under this section, the +Secretary shall give priority to eligible entities that-- + ``(1) demonstrate a record of successfully training + students, as determined by the Secretary, who practice medicine + in underserved rural communities; + ``(2) demonstrate that an existing academic program of the + eligible entity produces a high percentage, as determined by the + Secretary, of graduates from such program who practice medicine + in underserved rural communities; + ``(3) demonstrate rural community institutional + partnerships, through such mechanisms as matching or + contributory funding, documented in-kind services for + implementation, or existence of training partners with + interprofessional expertise in community health center training + locations or other similar facilities; or + ``(4) submit, as part of the application of the entity under + subsection (b), a plan for the long-term tracking of where the + graduates of such entity practice medicine. + + ``(d) Use of Funds.-- + ``(1) Establishment.--An eligible entity receiving a grant + under this section shall use the funds made available under such + grant to establish, improve, or expand a rural-focused training + program (referred to in this section as the `Program') meeting + the requirements described in this subsection and to carry out + such program. + ``(2) Structure of program.--An eligible entity shall-- + ``(A) enroll no fewer than 10 students per class + year into the Program; and + ``(B) develop criteria for admission to the Program + that gives priority to students-- + ``(i) who have originated from or lived for a + period of 2 or more years in an underserved rural + community; and + ``(ii) who express a commitment to practice + medicine in an underserved rural community. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1001]] + + ``(3) Curricula.--The Program shall require students to + enroll in didactic coursework and clinical experience + particularly applicable to medical practice in underserved rural + communities, including-- + ``(A) clinical rotations in underserved rural + communities, and in applicable specialties, or other + coursework or clinical experience deemed appropriate by + the Secretary; and + ``(B) in addition to core school curricula, + additional coursework or training experiences focused on + medical issues prevalent in underserved rural + communities. + ``(4) Residency placement assistance.--Where available, the + Program shall assist all students of the Program in obtaining + clinical training experiences in locations with postgraduate + programs offering residency training opportunities in + underserved rural communities, or in local residency training + programs that support and train physicians to practice in + underserved rural communities. + ``(5) Program student cohort support.--The Program shall + provide and require all students of the Program to participate + in group activities designed to further develop, maintain, and + reinforce the original commitment of such students to practice + in an underserved rural community. + + ``(e) Annual Reporting.--An eligible entity receiving a grant under +this section shall submit an annual report to the Secretary on the +success of the Program, based on criteria the Secretary determines +appropriate, including the residency program selection of graduating +students who participated in the Program. + ``(f) Regulations.-- <> Not later than 60 days +after the date of enactment of this section, the Secretary shall by +regulation define `underserved rural community' for purposes of this +section. + + ``(g) Supplement Not Supplant.--Any eligible entity receiving funds +under this section shall use such funds to supplement, not supplant, any +other Federal, State, and local funds that would otherwise be expended +by such entity to carry out the activities described in this section. + ``(h) Maintenance of Effort.--With respect to activities for which +funds awarded under this section are to be expended, the entity shall +agree to maintain expenditures of non-Federal amounts for such +activities at a level that is not less than the level of such +expenditures maintained by the entity for the fiscal year preceding the +fiscal year for which the entity receives a grant under this section. + ``(i) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated $4,000,000 for each of the fiscal years 2010 through +2013.''. + (m)(1) Section 768 of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 295c) +is amended to read as follows: + +``SEC. 768. PREVENTIVE MEDICINE AND PUBLIC HEALTH TRAINING GRANT + PROGRAM. + + ``(a) Grants. <> --The Secretary, acting through +the Administrator of the Health Resources and Services Administration +and in consultation with the Director of the Centers for Disease Control +and Prevention, shall award grants to, or enter into contracts with, +eligible entities to provide training to graduate medical residents in +preventive medicine specialties. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1002]] + + ``(b) Eligibility.--To be eligible for a grant or contract under +subsection (a), an entity shall be-- + ``(1) an accredited school of public health or school of + medicine or osteopathic medicine; + ``(2) an accredited public or private nonprofit hospital; + ``(3) a State, local, or tribal health department; or + ``(4) a consortium of 2 or more entities described in + paragraphs (1) through (3). + + ``(c) Use of Funds.--Amounts received under a grant or contract +under this section shall be used to-- + ``(1) plan, develop (including the development of + curricula), operate, or participate in an accredited residency + or internship program in preventive medicine or public health; + ``(2) defray the costs of practicum experiences, as required + in such a program; and + ``(3) establish, maintain, or improve-- + ``(A) academic administrative units (including + departments, divisions, or other appropriate units) in + preventive medicine and public health; or + ``(B) programs that improve clinical teaching in + preventive medicine and public health. + + ``(d) Report.--The Secretary shall submit to the Congress an annual +report on the program carried out under this section.''. + (2) Section 770(a) of the Public Health Service Act (42 + U.S.C. 295e(a)) is amended to read as follows: + + ``(a) In General.--For the purpose of carrying out this subpart, +there is authorized to be appropriated $43,000,000 for fiscal year 2011, +and such sums as may be necessary for each of the fiscal years 2012 +through 2015.''. + (n)(1) Subsection (i) of section 331 of the Public Health Service +Act (42 U.S.C. 254d) of the Public Health Service Act is amended-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking ``In carrying out subpart + III'' and all that follows through the period and inserting ``In + carrying out subpart III, the Secretary may, in accordance with + this subsection, issue waivers to individuals who have entered + into a contract for obligated service under the Scholarship + Program or the Loan Repayment Program under which the + individuals are authorized to satisfy the requirement of + obligated service through providing clinical practice that is + half time.''; + (B) in paragraph (2)-- + (i) in subparagraphs (A)(ii) and (B), by striking + ``less than full time'' each place it appears and + inserting ``half time''; + (ii) in subparagraphs (C) and (F), by striking + ``less than full-time service'' each place it appears + and inserting ``half-time service''; and + (iii) by amending subparagraphs (D) and (E) to read + as follows: + ``(D) the entity and the Corps member agree in writing that + the Corps member will perform half-time clinical practice; + ``(E) the Corps member agrees in writing to fulfill all of + the service obligations under section 338C through half-time + clinical practice and either-- + ``(i) double the period of obligated service that + would otherwise be required; or + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1003]] + + ``(ii) in the case of contracts entered into under + section 338B, accept a minimum service obligation of 2 + years with an award amount equal to 50 percent of the + amount that would otherwise be payable for full-time + service; and''; and + (C) in paragraph (3), by striking ``In evaluating a + demonstration project described in paragraph (1)'' and inserting + ``In evaluating waivers issued under paragraph (1)''. + + (2) Subsection (j) of section 331 of the Public Health Service Act +(42 U.S.C. 254d) is amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(5) <> The terms `full time' and + `full-time' mean a minimum of 40 hours per week in a clinical + practice, for a minimum of 45 weeks per year. + ``(6) The terms `half time' and `half-time' mean a minimum + of 20 hours per week (not to exceed 39 hours per week) in a + clinical practice, for a minimum of 45 weeks per year.''. + + (3) Section 337(b)(1) of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. +254j(b)(1)) is amended by striking ``Members may not be reappointed to +the Council.''. + (4) Section 338B(g)(2)(A) of the Public Health Service Act (42 +U.S.C. 254l-1(g)(2)(A)) is amended by striking ``$35,000'' and inserting +``$50,000, plus, beginning with fiscal year 2012, an amount determined +by the Secretary on an annual basis to reflect inflation,''. + (5) Subsection (a) of section 338C of the Public Health Service Act +(42 U.S.C. 254m), as amended by section 5508, is amended-- + (A) by striking the second sentence and inserting the + following: ``The Secretary may treat teaching as clinical + practice for up to 20 percent of such period of obligated + service.''; and + (B) by adding at the end the following: ``Notwithstanding + the preceding sentence, with respect to a member of the Corps + participating in the teaching health centers graduate medical + education program under section 340H, for the purpose of + calculating time spent in full-time clinical practice under this + section, up to 50 percent of time spent teaching by such member + may be counted toward his or her service obligation.''. + +SEC. 10502. INFRASTRUCTURE TO EXPAND ACCESS TO CARE. + + (a) Appropriation.--There are authorized to be appropriated, and +there are appropriated to the Department of Health and Human Services, +$100,000,000 for fiscal year 2010, to remain available for obligation +until September 30, 2011, to be used for debt service on, or direct +construction or renovation of, a health care facility that provides +research, inpatient tertiary care, or outpatient clinical services. Such +facility shall be affiliated with an academic health center at a public +research university in the United States that contains a State's sole +public academic medical and dental school. + (b) Requirement.-- <> Amount appropriated +under subsection (a) may only be made available by the Secretary of +Health and Human Services upon the receipt of an application from the +Governor of a State that certifies that-- + (1) the new health care facility is critical for the + provision of greater access to health care within the State; + (2) such facility is essential for the continued financial + viability of the State's sole public medical and dental school + and its academic health center; + (3) the request for Federal support represents not more than + 40 percent of the total cost of the proposed new facility; and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1004]] + + (4) the State has established a dedicated funding mechanism + to provide all remaining funds necessary to complete the + construction or renovation of the proposed facility. + +SEC. 10503. <> COMMUNITY HEALTH CENTERS AND THE + NATIONAL HEALTH SERVICE CORPS FUND. + + (a) Purpose.--It is the purpose of this section to establish a +Community Health Center Fund (referred to in this section as the ``CHC +Fund''), to be administered through the Office of the Secretary of the +Department of Health and Human Services to provide for expanded and +sustained national investment in community health centers under section +330 of the Public Health Service Act and the National Health Service +Corps. + (b) Funding.--There is authorized to be appropriated, and there is +appropriated, out of any monies in the Treasury not otherwise +appropriated, to the CHC Fund-- + (1) to be transferred to the Secretary of Health and Human + Services to provide enhanced funding for the community health + center program under section 330 of the Public Health Service + Act-- + (A) $700,000,000 for fiscal year 2011; + (B) $800,000,000 for fiscal year 2012; + (C) $1,000,000,000 for fiscal year 2013; + (D) $1,600,000,000 for fiscal year 2014; and + (E) $2,900,000,000 for fiscal year 2015; and + (2) to be transferred to the Secretary of Health and Human + Services to provide enhanced funding for the National Health + Service Corps-- + (A) $290,000,000 for fiscal year 2011; + (B) $295,000,000 for fiscal year 2012; + (C) $300,000,000 for fiscal year 2013; + (D) $305,000,000 for fiscal year 2014; and + (E) $310,000,000 for fiscal year 2015. + + (c) Construction.-- <> There is +authorized to be appropriated, and there is appropriated, out of any +monies in the Treasury not otherwise appropriated, $1,500,000,000 to be +available for fiscal years 2011 through 2015 to be used by the Secretary +of Health and Human Services for the construction and renovation of +community health centers. + + (d) Use of Fund.--The Secretary of Health and Human Services shall +transfer amounts in the CHC Fund to accounts within the Department of +Health and Human Services to increase funding, over the fiscal year 2008 +level, for community health centers and the National Health Service +Corps. + (e) Availability.--Amounts appropriated under subsections (b) and +(c) shall remain available until expended. + +SEC. 10504. <> DEMONSTRATION PROJECT TO PROVIDE + ACCESS TO AFFORDABLE CARE. + + (a) In General.-- <> Not later than 6 months after +the date of enactment of this Act, the Secretary of Health and Human +Services (referred to in this section as the ``Secretary''), acting +through the Health Resources and Services Administration, shall +establish a 3 year demonstration project in up to 10 States to provide +access to comprehensive health care services to the uninsured at reduced +fees. <> The Secretary shall evaluate the feasibility +of expanding the project to additional States. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1005]] + + (b) Eligibility.--To be eligible to participate in the demonstration +project, an entity shall be a State-based, nonprofit, public-private +partnership that provides access to comprehensive health care services +to the uninsured at reduced fees. Each State in which a participant +selected by the Secretary is located shall receive not more than +$2,000,000 to establish and carry out the project for the 3-year +demonstration period. + (c) Authorization.--There is authorized to be appropriated such sums +as may be necessary to carry out this section. + + Subtitle F--Provisions Relating to Title VI + +SEC. 10601. REVISIONS TO LIMITATION ON MEDICARE EXCEPTION TO THE + PROHIBITION ON CERTAIN PHYSICIAN REFERRALS FOR HOSPITALS. + + (a) In General.--Section 1877(i) of the Social Security Act, as +added by section 6001(a), <> is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1)(A)(i), by striking ``February 1, 2010'' + and inserting ``August 1, 2010''; and + (2) in paragraph (3)(A)-- + (A) in clause (iii), by striking ``August 1, 2011'' + and inserting ``February 1, 2012''; and + (B) in clause (iv), by striking ``July 1, 2011'' and + inserting ``January 1, 2012''. + + (b) Conforming Amendment.--Section 6001(b)(2) <> of this Act is amended by striking ``November 1, 2011'' and +inserting ``May 1, 2012''. + +SEC. 10602. CLARIFICATIONS TO PATIENT-CENTERED OUTCOMES RESEARCH. + + Section 1181 of the Social Security Act (as added by section +6301) <> is amended-- + (1) in subsection (d)(2)(B)-- + (A) in clause (ii)(IV)-- + (i) by inserting ``, as described in + subparagraph (A)(ii),'' after ``original + research''; and + (ii) by inserting ``, as long as the + researcher enters into a data use agreement with + the Institute for use of the data from the + original research, as appropriate'' after + ``publication''; and + (B) by amending clause (iv) to read as follows: + ``(iv) Subsequent use of the data.--The + Institute shall not allow the subsequent use of + data from original research in work-for-hire + contracts with individuals, entities, or + instrumentalities that have a financial interest + in the results, unless approved under a data use + agreement with the Institute.''; + (2) in subsection (d)(8)(A)(iv), by striking ``not be + construed as mandates for'' and inserting ``do not include''; + and + (3) in subsection (f)(1)(C), by amending clause (ii) to read + as follows: + ``(ii) 7 members representing physicians and + providers, including 4 members representing + physicians (at least 1 of whom is a surgeon), 1 + nurse, 1 State-licensed integrative health care + practitioner, and 1 representative of a + hospital.''. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1006]] + +SEC. 10603. STRIKING PROVISIONS RELATING TO INDIVIDUAL PROVIDER + APPLICATION FEES. + + (a) In General.--Section 1866(j)(2)(C) of the Social Security Act, +as added by section 6401(a), <> is amended-- + (1) by striking clause (i); + (2) by redesignating clauses (ii) through (iv), + respectively, as clauses (i) through (iii); and + (3) in clause (i), as redesignated by paragraph (2), by + striking ``clause (iii)'' and inserting ``clause (ii)''. + + (b) Technical Correction.--Section 6401(a)(2) of this Act is amended +to read as follows: + ``(2) by redesignating paragraph (2) as paragraph (8); + and''. + +SEC. 10604. TECHNICAL CORRECTION TO SECTION 6405. + + Paragraphs (1) and (2) of section 6405(b) are amended to read as +follows: + ``(1) Part a.--Section 1814(a)(2) of the Social Security Act + ( <> 42 U.S.C. 1395(a)(2)) is amended in + the matter preceding subparagraph (A) by inserting `, or, in the + case of services described in subparagraph (C), a physician + enrolled under section 1866(j),' after `in collaboration with a + physician,'. + ``(2) Part b.--Section 1835(a)(2) of the Social Security Act + (42 U.S.C. 1395n(a)(2)) is amended in the matter preceding + subparagraph (A) by inserting `, or, in the case of services + described in subparagraph (A), a physician enrolled under + section 1866(j),' after `a physician'.''. + +SEC. 10605. CERTAIN OTHER PROVIDERS PERMITTED TO CONDUCT FACE TO FACE + ENCOUNTER FOR HOME HEALTH SERVICES. + + (a) Part A.--Section 1814(a)(2)(C) of the Social Security Act (42 +U.S.C. 1395f(a)(2)(C)), as amended by section 6407(a)(1), is amended by +inserting ``, or a nurse practitioner or clinical nurse specialist (as +those terms are defined in section 1861(aa)(5)) who is working in +collaboration with the physician in accordance with State law, or a +certified nurse-midwife (as defined in section 1861(gg)) as authorized +by State law, or a physician assistant (as defined in section +1861(aa)(5)) under the supervision of the physician,'' after ``himself +or herself''. + (b) Part B.--Section 1835(a)(2)(A)(iv) of the Social Security Act, +as added by section 6407(a)(2), is amended by inserting ``, or a nurse +practitioner or clinical nurse specialist (as those terms are defined in +section 1861(aa)(5)) who is working in collaboration with the physician +in accordance with State law, or a certified nurse-midwife (as defined +in section 1861(gg)) as authorized by State law, or a physician +assistant (as defined in section 1861(aa)(5)) under the supervision of +the physician,'' after ``must document that the physician''. + +SEC. 10606. HEALTH CARE FRAUD ENFORCEMENT. + + (a) <> Fraud Sentencing Guidelines.-- + (1) Definition.--In this subsection, the term ``Federal + health care offense'' has the meaning given that term in section + 24 of title 18, United States Code, as amended by this Act. + (2) Review and amendments.--Pursuant to the authority under + section 994 of title 28, United States Code, and in accordance + with this subsection, the United States Sentencing Commission + shall-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1007]] + + (A) review the Federal Sentencing Guidelines and + policy statements applicable to persons convicted of + Federal health care offenses; + (B) amend the Federal Sentencing Guidelines and + policy statements applicable to persons convicted of + Federal health care offenses involving Government health + care programs to provide that the aggregate dollar + amount of fraudulent bills submitted to the Government + health care program shall constitute prima facie + evidence of the amount of the intended loss by the + defendant; and + (C) amend the Federal Sentencing Guidelines to + provide-- + (i) a 2-level increase in the offense level + for any defendant convicted of a Federal health + care offense relating to a Government health care + program which involves a loss of not less than + $1,000,000 and less than $7,000,000; + (ii) a 3-level increase in the offense level + for any defendant convicted of a Federal health + care offense relating to a Government health care + program which involves a loss of not less than + $7,000,000 and less than $20,000,000; + (iii) a 4-level increase in the offense level + for any defendant convicted of a Federal health + care offense relating to a Government health care + program which involves a loss of not less than + $20,000,000; and + (iv) if appropriate, otherwise amend the + Federal Sentencing Guidelines and policy + statements applicable to persons convicted of + Federal health care offenses involving Government + health care programs. + (3) Requirements.--In carrying this subsection, the United + States Sentencing Commission shall-- + (A) ensure that the Federal Sentencing Guidelines + and policy statements-- + (i) reflect the serious harms associated with + health care fraud and the need for aggressive and + appropriate law enforcement action to prevent such + fraud; and + (ii) provide increased penalties for persons + convicted of health care fraud offenses in + appropriate circumstances; + (B) consult with individuals or groups representing + health care fraud victims, law enforcement officials, + the health care industry, and the Federal judiciary as + part of the review described in paragraph (2); + (C) ensure reasonable consistency with other + relevant directives and with other guidelines under the + Federal Sentencing Guidelines; + (D) account for any aggravating or mitigating + circumstances that might justify exceptions, including + circumstances for which the Federal Sentencing + Guidelines, as in effect on the date of enactment of + this Act, provide sentencing enhancements; + (E) make any necessary conforming changes to the + Federal Sentencing Guidelines; and + (F) ensure that the Federal Sentencing Guidelines + adequately meet the purposes of sentencing. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1008]] + + (b) Intent Requirement for Health Care Fraud.--Section 1347 of title +18, United States Code, is amended-- + (1) by inserting ``(a)'' before ``Whoever knowingly''; and + (2) by adding at the end the following: + + ``(b) With respect to violations of this section, a person need not +have actual knowledge of this section or specific intent to commit a +violation of this section.''. + (c) Health Care Fraud Offense.--Section 24(a) of title 18, United +States Code, is amended-- + (1) in paragraph (1), by striking the semicolon and + inserting ``or section 1128B of the Social Security Act (42 + U.S.C. 1320a-7b); or''; and + (2) in paragraph (2)-- + (A) by inserting ``1349,'' after ``1343,''; and + (B) by inserting ``section 301 of the Federal Food, + Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 U.S.C. 331), or section 501 + of the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 + (29 U.S.C. 1131),'' after ``title,''. + + (d) Subpoena Authority Relating to Health Care.-- + (1) Subpoenas under the health insurance portability and + accountability act of 1996.--Section 1510(b) of title 18, United + States Code, is amended-- + (A) in paragraph (1), by striking ``to the grand + jury''; and + (B) in paragraph (2)-- + (i) in subparagraph (A), by striking ``grand + jury subpoena'' and inserting ``subpoena for + records''; and + (ii) in the matter following subparagraph (B), + by striking ``to the grand jury''. + (2) Subpoenas under the civil rights of institutionalized + persons act.--The Civil Rights of Institutionalized Persons Act + (42 U.S.C. 1997 et seq.) is amended by inserting after section 3 + the following: + +``SEC. 3A. <> SUBPOENA AUTHORITY. + + ``(a) Authority.--The Attorney General, or at the direction of the +Attorney General, any officer or employee of the Department of Justice +may require by subpoena access to any institution that is the subject of +an investigation under this Act and to any document, record, material, +file, report, memorandum, policy, procedure, investigation, video or +audio recording, or quality assurance report relating to any institution +that is the subject of an investigation under this Act to determine +whether there are conditions which deprive persons residing in or +confined to the institution of any rights, privileges, or immunities +secured or protected by the Constitution or laws of the United States. + ``(b) Issuance and Enforcement of Subpoenas.-- + ``(1) Issuance.--Subpoenas issued under this section-- + ``(A) shall bear the signature of the Attorney + General or any officer or employee of the Department of + Justice as designated by the Attorney General; and + ``(B) shall be served by any person or class of + persons designated by the Attorney General or a + designated officer or employee for that purpose. + ``(2) Enforcement.--In the case of contumacy or failure to + obey a subpoena issued under this section, the United States + district court for the judicial district in which the + institution + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1009]] + + is located may issue an order requiring compliance. Any failure + to obey the order of the court may be punished by the court as a + contempt that court. + + ``(c) Protection of Subpoenaed Records and Information.--Any +document, record, material, file, report, memorandum, policy, procedure, +investigation, video or audio recording, or quality assurance report or +other information obtained under a subpoena issued under this section-- + ``(1) may not be used for any purpose other than to protect + the rights, privileges, or immunities secured or protected by + the Constitution or laws of the United States of persons who + reside, have resided, or will reside in an institution; + ``(2) may not be transmitted by or within the Department of + Justice for any purpose other than to protect the rights, + privileges, or immunities secured or protected by the + Constitution or laws of the United States of persons who reside, + have resided, or will reside in an institution; and + ``(3) shall be redacted, obscured, or otherwise altered if + used in any publicly available manner so as to prevent the + disclosure of any personally identifiable information.''. + +SEC. 10607. STATE DEMONSTRATION PROGRAMS TO EVALUATE ALTERNATIVES TO + CURRENT MEDICAL TORT LITIGATION. + + Part P of title III of the Public Health Service Act (42 U.S.C. 280g +et seq.), as amended by this Act, is further amended by adding at the +end the following: + +``SEC. 399V-4. <> STATE DEMONSTRATION + PROGRAMS TO EVALUATE ALTERNATIVES TO CURRENT MEDICAL TORT + LITIGATION. + + ``(a) In General.--The Secretary is authorized to award +demonstration grants to States for the development, implementation, and +evaluation of alternatives to current tort litigation for resolving +disputes over injuries allegedly caused by health care providers or +health care organizations. In awarding such grants, the Secretary shall +ensure the diversity of the alternatives so funded. + ``(b) Duration.--The Secretary may award grants under subsection (a) +for a period not to exceed 5 years. + ``(c) Conditions for Demonstration Grants.-- + ``(1) Requirements.--Each State desiring a grant under + subsection (a) shall develop an alternative to current tort + litigation that-- + ``(A) allows for the resolution of disputes over + injuries allegedly caused by health care providers or + health care organizations; and + ``(B) promotes a reduction of health care errors by + encouraging the collection and analysis of patient + safety data related to disputes resolved under + subparagraph (A) by organizations that engage in efforts + to improve patient safety and the quality of health + care. + ``(2) Alternative to current tort litigation.--Each State + desiring a grant under subsection (a) shall demonstrate how the + proposed alternative described in paragraph (1)(A)-- + ``(A) makes the medical liability system more + reliable by increasing the availability of prompt and + fair resolution of disputes; + ``(B) encourages the efficient resolution of + disputes; + ``(C) encourages the disclosure of health care + errors; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1010]] + + ``(D) enhances patient safety by detecting, + analyzing, and helping to reduce medical errors and + adverse events; + ``(E) improves access to liability insurance; + ``(F) fully informs patients about the differences + in the alternative and current tort litigation; + ``(G) provides patients the ability to opt out of or + voluntarily withdraw from participating in the + alternative at any time and to pursue other options, + including litigation, outside the alternative; + ``(H) would not conflict with State law at the time + of the application in a way that would prohibit the + adoption of an alternative to current tort litigation; + and + ``(I) would not limit or curtail a patient's + existing legal rights, ability to file a claim in or + access a State's legal system, or otherwise abrogate a + patient's ability to file a medical malpractice claim. + ``(3) Sources of compensation.--Each State desiring a grant + under subsection (a) shall identify the sources from and methods + by which compensation would be paid for claims resolved under + the proposed alternative to current tort litigation, which may + include public or private funding sources, or a combination of + such sources. Funding methods shall to the extent practicable + provide financial incentives for activities that improve patient + safety. + ``(4) Scope.-- + ``(A) In general.--Each State desiring a grant under + subsection (a) shall establish a scope of jurisdiction + (such as Statewide, designated geographic region, a + designated area of health care practice, or a designated + group of health care providers or health care + organizations) for the proposed alternative to current + tort litigation that is sufficient to evaluate the + effects of the alternative. No scope of jurisdiction + shall be established under this paragraph that is based + on a health care payer or patient population. + ``(B) Notification of patients.--A State shall + demonstrate how patients would be notified that they are + receiving health care services that fall within such + scope, and the process by which they may opt out of or + voluntarily withdraw from participating in the + alternative. The decision of the patient whether to + participate or continue participating in the alternative + process shall be made at any time and shall not be + limited in any way. + ``(5) Preference in awarding demonstration grants.--In + awarding grants under subsection (a), the Secretary shall give + preference to States-- + ``(A) that have developed the proposed alternative + through substantive consultation with relevant + stakeholders, including patient advocates, health care + providers and health care organizations, attorneys with + expertise in representing patients and health care + providers, medical malpractice insurers, and patient + safety experts; + ``(B) that make proposals that are likely to enhance + patient safety by detecting, analyzing, and helping to + reduce medical errors and adverse events; and + ``(C) that make proposals that are likely to improve + access to liability insurance. + + ``(d) Application.-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1011]] + + ``(1) In general.--Each State desiring a grant under + subsection (a) shall submit to the Secretary an application, at + such time, in such manner, and containing such information as + the Secretary may require. + ``(2) Review panel.-- + ``(A) In general.-- <> In + reviewing applications under paragraph (1), the + Secretary shall consult with a review panel composed of + relevant experts appointed by the Comptroller General. + ``(B) Composition.-- + ``(i) Nominations.--The Comptroller General + shall solicit nominations from the public for + individuals to serve on the review panel. + ``(ii) Appointment.--The Comptroller General + shall appoint, at least 9 but not more than 13, + highly qualified and knowledgeable individuals to + serve on the review panel and shall ensure that + the following entities receive fair representation + on such panel: + ``(I) Patient advocates. + ``(II) Health care providers and + health care organizations. + ``(III) Attorneys with expertise in + representing patients and health care + providers. + ``(IV) Medical malpractice insurers. + ``(V) State officials. + ``(VI) Patient safety experts. + ``(C) Chairperson.--The Comptroller General, or an + individual within the Government Accountability Office + designated by the Comptroller General, shall be the + chairperson of the review panel. + ``(D) Availability of information.--The Comptroller + General shall make available to the review panel such + information, personnel, and administrative services and + assistance as the review panel may reasonably require to + carry out its duties. + ``(E) Information from agencies.--The review panel + may request directly from any department or agency of + the United States any information that such panel + considers necessary to carry out its duties. To the + extent consistent with applicable laws and regulations, + the head of such department or agency shall furnish the + requested information to the review panel. + + ``(e) Reports.-- + ``(1) By state.--Each State receiving a grant under + subsection (a) shall submit to the Secretary an annual report + evaluating the effectiveness of activities funded with grants + awarded under such subsection. Such report shall, at a minimum, + include the impact of the activities funded on patient safety + and on the availability and price of medical liability + insurance. + ``(2) By secretary.--The Secretary shall submit to Congress + an annual compendium of the reports submitted under paragraph + (1) and an analysis of the activities funded under subsection + (a) that examines any differences that result from such + activities in terms of the quality of care, number and nature of + medical errors, medical resources used, length of + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1012]] + + time for dispute resolution, and the availability and price of + liability insurance. + + ``(f) Technical Assistance.-- + ``(1) In general.--The Secretary shall provide technical + assistance to the States applying for or awarded grants under + subsection (a). + ``(2) Requirements.--Technical assistance under paragraph + (1) shall include-- + ``(A) guidance on non-economic damages, including + the consideration of individual facts and circumstances + in determining appropriate payment, guidance on + identifying avoidable injuries, and guidance on + disclosure to patients of health care errors and adverse + events; and + ``(B) the development, in consultation with States, + of common definitions, formats, and data collection + infrastructure for States receiving grants under this + section to use in reporting to facilitate aggregation + and analysis of data both within and between States. + ``(3) Use of common definitions, formats, and data + collection infrastructure.--States not receiving grants under + this section may also use the common definitions, formats, and + data collection infrastructure developed under paragraph (2)(B). + + ``(g) Evaluation.-- + ``(1) In general.-- + <> The Secretary, in + consultation with the review panel established under subsection + (d)(2), shall enter into a contract with an appropriate research + organization to conduct an overall evaluation of the + effectiveness of grants awarded under subsection (a) and to + annually prepare and submit a report to Congress. Such an + evaluation shall begin not later than 18 months following the + date of implementation of the first program funded by a grant + under subsection (a). + ``(2) Contents.--The evaluation under paragraph (1) shall + include-- + ``(A) an analysis of the effects of the grants + awarded under subsection (a) with regard to the measures + described in paragraph (3); + ``(B) for each State, an analysis of the extent to + which the alternative developed under subsection (c)(1) + is effective in meeting the elements described in + subsection (c)(2); + ``(C) a comparison among the States receiving grants + under subsection (a) of the effectiveness of the various + alternatives developed by such States under subsection + (c)(1); + ``(D) a comparison, considering the measures + described in paragraph (3), of States receiving grants + approved under subsection (a) and similar States not + receiving such grants; and + ``(E) a comparison, with regard to the measures + described in paragraph (3), of-- + ``(i) States receiving grants under subsection + (a); + ``(ii) States that enacted, prior to the date + of enactment of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act, any cap on non-economic + damages; and + ``(iii) States that have enacted, prior to the + date of enactment of the Patient Protection and + Affordable Care Act, a requirement that the + complainant obtain + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1013]] + + an opinion regarding the merit of the claim, + although the substance of such opinion may have no + bearing on whether the complainant may proceed + with a case. + ``(3) Measures.--The evaluations under paragraph (2) shall + analyze and make comparisons on the basis of-- + ``(A) the nature and number of disputes over + injuries allegedly caused by health care providers or + health care organizations; + ``(B) the nature and number of claims in which tort + litigation was pursued despite the existence of an + alternative under subsection (a); + ``(C) the disposition of disputes and claims, + including the length of time and estimated costs to all + parties; + ``(D) the medical liability environment; + ``(E) health care quality; + ``(F) patient safety in terms of detecting, + analyzing, and helping to reduce medical errors and + adverse events; + ``(G) patient and health care provider and + organization satisfaction with the alternative under + subsection (a) and with the medical liability + environment; and + ``(H) impact on utilization of medical services, + appropriately adjusted for risk. + ``(4) Funding.--The Secretary shall reserve 5 percent of the + amount appropriated in each fiscal year under subsection (k) to + carry out this subsection. + + ``(h) MedPAC and MACPAC Reports.-- + ``(1) MedPAC.--The Medicare Payment Advisory Commission + shall conduct an independent review of the alternatives to + current tort litigation that are implemented under grants under + subsection (a) to determine the impact of such alternatives on + the Medicare program under title XVIII of the Social Security + Act, and its beneficiaries. + ``(2) MACPAC.--The Medicaid and CHIP Payment and Access + Commission shall conduct an independent review of the + alternatives to current tort litigation that are implemented + under grants under subsection (a) to determine the impact of + such alternatives on the Medicaid or CHIP programs under titles + XIX and XXI of the Social Security Act, and their beneficiaries. + ``(3) Reports.--Not later than December 31, 2016, the + Medicare Payment Advisory Commission and the Medicaid and CHIP + Payment and Access Commission shall each submit to Congress a + report that includes the findings and recommendations of each + respective Commission based on independent reviews conducted + under paragraphs (1) and (2), including an analysis of the + impact of the alternatives reviewed on the efficiency and + effectiveness of the respective programs. + + ``(i) Option To Provide for Initial Planning Grants.--Of the funds +appropriated pursuant to subsection (k), the Secretary may use a portion +not to exceed $500,000 per State to provide planning grants to such +States for the development of demonstration project applications meeting +the criteria described in subsection (c). In selecting States to receive +such planning grants, the Secretary shall give preference to those +States in which State law at the time of the application would not +prohibit the adoption of an alternative to current tort litigation. + ``(j) Definitions.--In this section: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1014]] + + ``(1) Health care services.--The term `health care services' + means any services provided by a health care provider, or by any + individual working under the supervision of a health care + provider, that relate to-- + ``(A) the diagnosis, prevention, or treatment of any + human disease or impairment; or + ``(B) the assessment of the health of human beings. + ``(2) Health care organization.--The term `health care + organization' means any individual or entity which is obligated + to provide, pay for, or administer health benefits under any + health plan. + ``(3) Health care provider.--The term `health care provider' + means any individual or entity-- + ``(A) licensed, registered, or certified under + Federal or State laws or regulations to provide health + care services; or + ``(B) required to be so licensed, registered, or + certified but that is exempted by other statute or + regulation. + + ``(k) Authorization of Appropriations.--There are authorized to be +appropriated to carry out this section, $50,000,000 for the 5-fiscal +year period beginning with fiscal year 2011. + ``(l) Current State Efforts To Establish Alternative To Tort +Litigation.--Nothing in this section shall be construed to limit any +prior, current, or future efforts of any State to establish any +alternative to tort litigation. + ``(m) Rule of Construction.--Nothing in this section shall be +construed as limiting states' authority over or responsibility for their +state justice systems.''. + +SEC. 10608. EXTENSION OF MEDICAL MALPRACTICE COVERAGE TO FREE CLINICS. + + (a) In General.--Section 224(o)(1) of the Public Health Service Act +(42 U.S.C. 233(o)(1)) is amended by inserting after ``to an individual'' +the following: ``, or an officer, governing board member, employee, or +contractor of a free clinic shall in providing services for the free +clinic,''. + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment made +by this section shall take effect on the date of enactment of this Act +and apply to any act or omission which occurs on or after that date. + +SEC. 10609. <> LABELING CHANGES. + + Section 505(j) of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act (21 +U.S.C. 355(j)) is amended by adding at the end the following: + ``(10)(A) <> If the proposed labeling of a drug +that is the subject of an application under this subsection differs from +the listed drug due to a labeling revision described under clause (i), +the drug that is the subject of such application shall, notwithstanding +any other provision of this Act, be eligible for approval and shall not +be considered misbranded under section 502 if-- + ``(i) the application is otherwise eligible for approval + under this subsection but for expiration of patent, an + exclusivity period, or of a delay in approval described in + paragraph (5)(B)(iii), and a revision to the labeling of the + listed drug has been approved by the Secretary within 60 days of + such expiration; + ``(ii) the labeling revision described under clause (i) does + not include a change to the `Warnings' section of the labeling; + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1015]] + + ``(iii) the sponsor of the application under this subsection + agrees to submit revised labeling of the drug that is the + subject of such application not later than 60 days after the + notification of any changes to such labeling required by the + Secretary; and + ``(iv) such application otherwise meets the applicable + requirements for approval under this subsection. + + ``(B) <> If, after a labeling revision +described in subparagraph (A)(i), the Secretary determines that the +continued presence in interstate commerce of the labeling of the listed +drug (as in effect before the revision described in subparagraph (A)(i)) +adversely impacts the safe use of the drug, no application under this +subsection shall be eligible for approval with such labeling.''. + + Subtitle G--Provisions Relating to Title VIII + +SEC. 10801. PROVISIONS RELATING TO TITLE VIII. + + (a) Title XXXII of the Public Health Service Act, as added by +section 8002(a)(1), is amended-- + (1) in section 3203 <> -- + (A) in subsection (a)(1), by striking subparagraph + (E); + (B) in subsection (b)(1)(C)(i), by striking ``for + enrollment'' and inserting ``for reenrollment''; and + (C) in subsection (c)(1), by striking ``, as part of + their automatic enrollment in the CLASS program,''; and + (2) in section 3204 <> -- + (A) in subsection (c)(2), by striking subparagraph + (A) and inserting the following: + ``(A) receives wages or income on which there is + imposed a tax under section 3101(a) or 3201(a) of the + Internal Revenue Code of 1986; or''; + (B) in subsection (d), by striking ``subparagraph + (B) or (C) of subsection (c)(1)'' and inserting + ``subparagraph (A) or (B) of subsection (c)(2)''; + (C) in subsection (e)(2)(A), by striking + ``subparagraph (A)'' and inserting ``paragraph (1)''; + and + (D) in subsection (g)(1), by striking ``has elected + to waive enrollment'' and inserting ``has not + enrolled''. + + (b) Section 8002 of this Act is amended in the heading for +subsection (d), by striking ``Information on Supplemental Coverage'' and +inserting ``CLASS Program Information''. + (c) Section 6021(d)(2)(A)(iv) of the Deficit Reduction Act of 2005, +as added by section 8002(d) of this Act, <> is +amended by striking ``and coverage available'' and all that follows +through ``that program,''. + + Subtitle H--Provisions Relating to Title IX + +SEC. 10901. MODIFICATIONS TO EXCISE TAX ON HIGH COST EMPLOYER-SPONSORED + HEALTH COVERAGE. + + (a) Longshore Workers Treated as Employees Engaged in High-risk +Professions.--Paragraph (3) of section 4980I(f) of the Internal Revenue +Code of 1986, as added by section 9001 of this Act, <> is amended by inserting ``individuals whose primary + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1016]] + +work is longshore work (as defined in section 258(b) of the Immigration +and Nationality Act (8 U.S.C. 1288(b)), determined without regard to +paragraph (2) thereof),'' before ``and individuals engaged in the +construction, mining''. + + (b) Exemption From High-cost Insurance Tax Includes Certain +Additional Excepted Benefits.--Clause (i) of section 4980I(d)(1)(B) of +the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as added by section 9001 of this Act, +is amended by striking ``section 9832(c)(1)(A)'' and inserting ``section +9832(c)(1) (other than subparagraph (G) thereof)''. + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after +December 31, 2012. + +SEC. 10902. INFLATION ADJUSTMENT OF LIMITATION ON HEALTH FLEXIBLE + SPENDING ARRANGEMENTS UNDER CAFETERIA PLANS. + + (a) In General.--Subsection (i) of section 125 of the Internal +Revenue Code of 1986, as added by section 9005 of this Act, <> is amended to read as follows: + + ``(i) Limitation on Health Flexible Spending Arrangements.-- + ``(1) In general.--For purposes of this section, if a + benefit is provided under a cafeteria plan through employer + contributions to a health flexible spending arrangement, such + benefit shall not be treated as a qualified benefit unless the + cafeteria plan provides that an employee may not elect for any + taxable year to have salary reduction contributions in excess of + $2,500 made to such arrangement. + ``(2) Adjustment for inflation.-- <> In the case of any taxable year beginning after December + 31, 2011, the dollar amount in paragraph (1) shall be increased + by an amount equal to-- + ``(A) such amount, multiplied by + ``(B) the cost-of-living adjustment determined under + section 1(f)(3) for the calendar year in which such + taxable year begins by substituting `calendar year 2010' + for `calendar year 1992' in subparagraph (B) thereof. + If any increase determined under this paragraph is not a + multiple of $50, such increase shall be rounded to the next + lowest multiple of $50.''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment made +by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after December +31, 2010. + +SEC. 10903. MODIFICATION OF LIMITATION ON CHARGES BY CHARITABLE + HOSPITALS. + + (a) In General.--Subparagraph (A) of section 501(r)(5) of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as added by section 9007 of this +Act, <> is amended by striking ``the lowest amounts +charged'' and inserting ``the amounts generally billed''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment made +by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after the date of +the enactment of this Act. + +SEC. 10904. MODIFICATION OF ANNUAL FEE ON MEDICAL DEVICE MANUFACTURERS + AND IMPORTERS. + + (a) In General.--Section 9009 of this Act <> is amended-- + (1) by striking ``2009'' in subsection (a)(1) and inserting + ``2010'', + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1017]] + + (2) by inserting ``($3,000,000,000 after 2017)'' after + ``$2,000,000,000'', and + (3) by striking ``2008'' in subsection (i) and inserting + ``2009''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall take effect as if included in the enactment +of section 9009. + +SEC. 10905. <> MODIFICATION OF ANNUAL FEE + ON HEALTH INSURANCE PROVIDERS. + + (a) Determination of Fee Amount.--Subsection (b) of section 9010 of +this Act is amended to read as follows: + ``(b) Determination of Fee Amount.-- + ``(1) In general.--With respect to each covered entity, the + fee under this section for any calendar year shall be equal to + an amount that bears the same ratio to the applicable amount + as-- + ``(A) the covered entity's net premiums written with + respect to health insurance for any United States health + risk that are taken into account during the preceding + calendar year, bears to + ``(B) the aggregate net premiums written with + respect to such health insurance of all covered entities + that are taken into account during such preceding + calendar year. + ``(2) Amounts taken into account.--For purposes of paragraph + (1), the net premiums written with respect to health insurance + for any United States health risk that are taken into account + during any calendar year with respect to any covered entity + shall be determined in accordance with the following table: + + + ``With respect to a covered entity's The percentage of net premiums + net premiums written during the written that are taken into + calendar year that are: account is: + + Not more than $25,000,000............ 0 percent + More than $25,000,000 but not more 50 percent + than $50,000,000. + More than $50,000,000................ 100 percent. + + + ``(3) Secretarial determination.--The Secretary shall + calculate the amount of each covered entity's fee for any + calendar year under paragraph (1). In calculating such amount, + the Secretary shall determine such covered entity's net premiums + written with respect to any United States health risk on the + basis of reports submitted by the covered entity under + subsection (g) and through the use of any other source of + information available to the Secretary.''. + + (b) Applicable Amount.--Subsection (e) of section 9010 of this Act +is amended to read as follows: + ``(e) Applicable Amount.--For purposes of subsection (b)(1), the +applicable amount shall be determined in accordance with the following +table: + +``Calendar year Applicable amount + 2011................................. $2,000,000,000 + 2012................................. $4,000,000,000 + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1018]] + + + 2013................................. $7,000,000,000 + 2014, 2015 and 2016.................. $9,000,000,000 + 2017 and thereafter.................. $10,000,000,000.''. + + + (c) Exemption From Annual Fee on Health Insurance for Certain +Nonprofit Entities.--Section 9010(c)(2) of this Act is amended by +striking ``or'' at the end of subparagraph (A), by striking the period +at the end of subparagraph (B) and inserting a comma, and by adding at +the end the following new subparagraphs: + ``(C) any entity-- + ``(i)(I) which is incorporated as, is a wholly + owned subsidiary of, or is a wholly owned + affiliate of, a nonprofit corporation under a + State law, or + ``(II) which is described in section 501(c)(4) + of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 and the + activities of which consist of providing + commercial-type insurance (within the meaning of + section 501(m) of such Code), + ``(ii) the premium rate increases of which are + regulated by a State authority, + ``(iii) which, as of the date of the enactment + of this section, acts as the insurer of last + resort in the State and is subject to State + guarantee issue requirements, and + ``(iv) for which the medical loss ratio + (determined in a manner consistent with the + determination of such ratio under section + 2718(b)(1)(A) of the Public Health Service Act) + with respect to the individual insurance market + for such entity for the calendar year is not less + than 100 percent, + ``(D) any entity-- + ``(i)(I) which is incorporated as a nonprofit + corporation under a State law, or + ``(II) which is described in section 501(c)(4) + of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 and the + activities of which consist of providing + commercial-type insurance (within the meaning of + section 501(m) of such Code), and + ``(ii) for which the medical loss ratio (as so + determined)-- + ``(I) with respect to each of the + individual, small group, and large group + insurance markets for such entity for + the calendar year is not less than 90 + percent, and + ``(II) with respect to all such + markets for such entity for the calendar + year is not less than 92 percent, or + ``(E) any entity-- + ``(i) which is a mutual insurance company, + ``(ii) which for the period reported on the + 2008 Accident and Health Policy Experience Exhibit + of the National Association of Insurance + Commissioners had-- + ``(I) a market share of the insured + population of a State of at least 40 but + not more than 60 percent, and + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1019]] + + ``(II) with respect to all markets + described in subparagraph (D)(ii)(I), a + medical loss ratio of not less than 90 + percent, and + ``(iii) with respect to annual payment dates + in calendar years after 2011, for which the + medical loss ratio (determined in a manner + consistent with the determination of such ratio + under section 2718(b)(1)(A) of the Public Health + Service Act) with respect to all such markets for + such entity for the preceding calendar year is not + less than 89 percent (except that with respect to + such annual payment date for 2012, the calculation + under 2718(b)(1)(B)(ii) of such Act is determined + by reference to the previous year, and with + respect to such annual payment date for 2013, such + calculation is determined by reference to the + average for the previous 2 years).''. + + (d) Certain Insurance Exempted From Fee.--Paragraph (3) of section +9010(h) of this Act is amended to read as follows: + ``(3) Health insurance.--The term `health insurance' shall + not include-- + ``(A) any insurance coverage described in paragraph + (1)(A) or (3) of section 9832(c) of the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986, + ``(B) any insurance for long-term care, or + ``(C) any medicare supplemental health insurance (as + defined in section 1882(g)(1) of the Social Security + Act).''. + + (e) Anti-avoidance Guidance.--Subsection (i) of section 9010 of this +Act is amended by inserting ``and shall prescribe such regulations as +are necessary or appropriate to prevent avoidance of the purposes of +this section, including inappropriate actions taken to qualify as an +exempt entity under subsection (c)(2)'' after ``section''. + (f) Conforming Amendments.-- + (1) Section 9010(a)(1) of this Act is amended by striking + ``2009'' and inserting ``2010''. + (2) Section 9010(c)(2)(B) of this Act is amended by striking + ``(except'' and all that follows through ``1323)''. + (3) Section 9010(c)(3) of this Act is amended by adding at + the end the following new sentence: ``If any entity described in + subparagraph (C)(i)(I), (D)(i)(I), or (E)(i) of paragraph (2) is + treated as a covered entity by reason of the application of the + preceding sentence, the net premiums written with respect to + health insurance for any United States health risk of such + entity shall not be taken into account for purposes of this + section.''. + (4) Section 9010(g)(1) of this Act is amended by striking + ``and third party administration agreement fees''. + (5) Section 9010(j) of this Act is amended-- + (A) by striking ``2008'' and inserting ``2009'', and + (B) by striking ``, and any third party + administration agreement fees received after such + date''. + + (g) Effective Date.--The amendments made by this section shall take +effect as if included in the enactment of section 9010. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1020]] + +SEC. 10906. MODIFICATIONS TO ADDITIONAL HOSPITAL INSURANCE TAX ON HIGH- + INCOME TAXPAYERS. + + (a) FICA.--Section 3101(b)(2) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, +as added by section 9015(a)(1) of this Act, <> is +amended by striking ``0.5 percent'' and inserting ``0.9 percent''. + + (b) SECA.--Section 1401(b)(2)(A) of the Internal Revenue Code of +1986, as added by section 9015(b)(1) of this Act, <> is amended by striking ``0.5 percent'' and inserting ``0.9 +percent''. + + (c) <> Effective Date.--The amendments made +by this section shall apply with respect to remuneration received, and +taxable years beginning, after December 31, 2012. + +SEC. 10907. EXCISE TAX ON INDOOR TANNING SERVICES IN LIEU OF ELECTIVE + COSMETIC MEDICAL PROCEDURES. + + (a) <> In General.--The provisions of, +and amendments made by, section 9017 of this Act are hereby deemed null, +void, and of no effect. + + (b) Excise Tax on Indoor Tanning Services.--Subtitle D of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as amended by this Act, is amended by +adding at the end the following new chapter: + + ``CHAPTER 49--COSMETIC SERVICES + +``Sec. 5000B. Imposition of tax on indoor tanning services. + +``SEC. 5000B. <> IMPOSITION OF TAX ON INDOOR + TANNING SERVICES. + + ``(a) In General.--There is hereby imposed on any indoor tanning +service a tax equal to 10 percent of the amount paid for such service +(determined without regard to this section), whether paid by insurance +or otherwise. + ``(b) Indoor Tanning Service.-- <> For purposes +of this section-- + ``(1) In general.--The term `indoor tanning service' means a + service employing any electronic product designed to incorporate + 1 or more ultraviolet lamps and intended for the irradiation of + an individual by ultraviolet radiation, with wavelengths in air + between 200 and 400 nanometers, to induce skin tanning. + ``(2) Exclusion of phototherapy services.--Such term does + not include any phototherapy service performed by a licensed + medical professional. + + ``(c) Payment of Tax.-- + ``(1) In general.--The tax imposed by this section shall be + paid by the individual on whom the service is performed. + ``(2) Collection.-- <> Every person + receiving a payment for services on which a tax is imposed under + subsection (a) shall collect the amount of the tax from the + individual on whom the service is performed and remit such tax + quarterly to the Secretary at such time and in such manner as + provided by the Secretary. + ``(3) Secondary liability.--Where any tax imposed by + subsection (a) is not paid at the time payments for indoor + tanning services are made, then to the extent that such tax is + not collected, such tax shall be paid by the person who performs + the service.''. + + (c) Clerical Amendment.--The table of chapter for subtitle D of the +Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as amended by this Act, is amended by +inserting after the item relating to chapter 48 the following new item: + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1021]] + + ``Chapter 49--Cosmetic Services''. + + (d) <> Effective Date.--The amendments +made by this section shall apply to services performed on or after July +1, 2010. + +SEC. 10908. EXCLUSION FOR ASSISTANCE PROVIDED TO PARTICIPANTS IN STATE + STUDENT LOAN REPAYMENT PROGRAMS FOR CERTAIN HEALTH + PROFESSIONALS. + + (a) In General.--Paragraph (4) of section 108(f) of the Internal +Revenue Code of 1986 <> is amended to read as +follows: + ``(4) Payments under national health service corps loan + repayment program and certain state loan repayment programs.--In + the case of an individual, gross income shall not include any + amount received under section 338B(g) of the Public Health + Service Act, under a State program described in section 338I of + such Act, or under any other State loan repayment or loan + forgiveness program that is intended to provide for the + increased availability of health care services in underserved or + health professional shortage areas (as determined by such + State).''. + + (b) <> Effective Date.--The amendment made +by this section shall apply to amounts received by an individual in +taxable years beginning after December 31, 2008. + +SEC. 10909. EXPANSION OF ADOPTION CREDIT AND ADOPTION ASSISTANCE + PROGRAMS. + + (a) Increase in Dollar Limitation.-- + (1) Adoption credit.-- + (A) In general.--Paragraph (1) of section 23(b) of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 <> (relating to dollar limitation) is amended by + striking ``$10,000'' and inserting ``$13,170''. + (B) Child with special needs.--Paragraph (3) of + section 23(a) of such Code (relating to $10,000 credit + for adoption of child with special needs regardless of + expenses) is amended-- + (i) in the text by striking ``$10,000'' and + inserting ``$13,170'', and + (ii) in the heading by striking ``$10,000'' + and inserting ``$13,170''. + (C) Conforming amendment to inflation adjustment.-- + Subsection (h) of section 23 of such Code (relating to + adjustments for inflation) is amended to read as + follows: + + ``(h) <> Adjustments for Inflation.-- + ``(1) Dollar limitations.--In the case of a taxable year + beginning after December 31, 2010, each of the dollar amounts in + subsections (a)(3) and (b)(1) shall be increased by an amount + equal to-- + ``(A) such dollar amount, multiplied by + ``(B) the cost-of-living adjustment determined under + section 1(f)(3) for the calendar year in which the + taxable year begins, determined by substituting + `calendar year 2009' for `calendar year 1992' in + subparagraph (B) thereof. + If any amount as increased under the preceding sentence is not a + multiple of $10, such amount shall be rounded to the nearest + multiple of $10. + ``(2) Income limitation.--In the case of a taxable year + beginning after December 31, 2002, the dollar amount in + subsection (b)(2)(A)(i) shall be increased by an amount equal + to-- + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1022]] + + ``(A) such dollar amount, multiplied by + ``(B) the cost-of-living adjustment determined under + section 1(f)(3) for the calendar year in which the + taxable year begins, determined by substituting + `calendar year 2001' for `calendar year 1992' in + subparagraph (B) thereof. + If any amount as increased under the preceding sentence is not a + multiple of $10, such amount shall be rounded to the nearest + multiple of $10.''. + (2) Adoption assistance programs.-- + (A) In general.--Paragraph (1) of section 137(b) of + the Internal Revenue Code of 1986 <> (relating to dollar limitation) is amended by + striking ``$10,000'' and inserting ``$13,170''. + (B) Child with special needs.--Paragraph (2) of + section 137(a) of such Code (relating to $10,000 + exclusion for adoption of child with special needs + regardless of expenses) is amended-- + (i) in the text by striking ``$10,000'' and + inserting ``$13,170'', and + (ii) in the heading by striking ``$10,000'' + and inserting ``$13,170''. + (C) Conforming amendment to inflation adjustment.-- + Subsection (f) of section 137 of such Code (relating to + adjustments for inflation) is amended to read as + follows: + + ``(f) <> Adjustments for Inflation.-- + ``(1) Dollar limitations.--In the case of a taxable year + beginning after December 31, 2010, each of the dollar amounts in + subsections (a)(2) and (b)(1) shall be increased by an amount + equal to-- + ``(A) such dollar amount, multiplied by + ``(B) the cost-of-living adjustment determined under + section 1(f)(3) for the calendar year in which the + taxable year begins, determined by substituting + `calendar year 2009' for `calendar year 1992' in + subparagraph (B) thereof. + If any amount as increased under the preceding sentence is not a + multiple of $10, such amount shall be rounded to the nearest + multiple of $10. + ``(2) Income limitation.--In the case of a taxable year + beginning after December 31, 2002, the dollar amount in + subsection (b)(2)(A) shall be increased by an amount equal to-- + ``(A) such dollar amount, multiplied by + ``(B) the cost-of-living adjustment determined under + section 1(f)(3) for the calendar year in which the + taxable year begins, determined by substituting + `calendar year 2001' for `calendar year 1992' in + subparagraph thereof. + If any amount as increased under the preceding sentence is not a + multiple of $10, such amount shall be rounded to the nearest + multiple of $10.''. + + (b) Credit Made Refundable.-- + (1) Credit moved to subpart relating to refundable + credits.--The Internal Revenue Code of 1986 is amended-- + (A) by redesignating section 23, <> as amended by subsection (a), as section 36C, and + (B) by moving section 36C (as so redesignated) from + subpart A of part IV of subchapter A of chapter 1 to the + location immediately before section 37 in subpart C of + part IV of subchapter A of chapter 1. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1023]] + + (2) Conforming amendments.-- + (A) Section 24(b)(3)(B) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``23,''. + (B) Section 25(e)(1)(C) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``23,'' both places it + appears. + (C) Section 25A(i)(5)(B) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``23, 25D,'' and inserting + ``25D''. + (D) Section 25B(g)(2) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``23,''. + (E) Section 26(a)(1) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``23,''. + (F) Section 30(c)(2)(B)(ii) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``23, 25D,'' and + inserting ``25D''. + (G) Section 30B(g)(2)(B)(ii) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``23,''. + (H) Section 30D(c)(2)(B)(ii) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``sections 23 and'' + and inserting ``section''. + (I) Section 36C of such Code, <> as so redesignated, is amended-- + (i) by striking paragraph (4) of subsection + (b), and + (ii) by striking subsection (c). + (J) Section 137 of such Code <> is amended-- + (i) by striking ``section 23(d)'' in + subsection (d) and inserting ``section 36C(d)'', + and + (ii) by striking ``section 23'' in subsection + (e) and inserting ``section 36C''. + (K) Section 904(i) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``23,''. + (L) Section 1016(a)(26) <> is + amended by striking ``23(g)'' and inserting ``36C(g)''. + (M) Section 1400C(d) of such Code <> is amended by striking ``23,''. + (N) Section 6211(b)(4)(A) of such Code <> is amended by inserting ``36C,'' before + ``53(e)''. + (O) The table of sections for subpart A of part IV + of subchapter A of chapter 1 of such Code of 1986 is + amended by striking the item relating to section 23. + (P) Paragraph (2) of section 1324(b) of title 31, + United States Code, as amended by this Act, is amended + by inserting ``36C,'' after ``36B,''. + (Q) The table of sections for subpart C of part IV + of subchapter A of chapter 1 of the Internal Revenue + Code of 1986, as amended by this Act, is amended by + inserting after the item relating to section 36B the + following new item: + +``Sec. 36C. Adoption expenses.''. + + (c) <> Application and Extension of EGTRRA +Sunset.--Notwithstanding section 901 of the Economic Growth and Tax +Relief Reconciliation Act of 2001, such section shall apply to the +amendments made by this section and the amendments made by section 202 +of such Act by substituting ``December 31, 2011'' for ``December 31, +2010'' in subsection (a)(1) thereof. + +[[Page 124 STAT. 1024]] + + (d) Effective Date.--The amendments <> made +by this section shall apply to taxable years beginning after December +31, 2009. + + Approved March 23, 2010. + +LEGISLATIVE HISTORY--H.R. 3590: +--------------------------------------------------------------------------- + +CONGRESSIONAL RECORD: + Vol. 155 (2009): + Oct. 7, 8, considered and passed + House. + Nov. 21, 30, Dec. 1-10, 13, 15, 16, + 19-24, considered and passed + Senate, amended. + Vol. 156 (2010): + Mar. 21, House concurred in Senate + amendments. +DAILY COMPILATION OF PRESIDENTIAL DOCUMENTS (2010): + Mar. 23, Presidential remarks. + + diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/austen.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/austen.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e796e74 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/austen.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13426 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Pride and Prejudice + +Author: Jane Austen + +Posting Date: August 26, 2008 [EBook #1342] +Release Date: June, 1998 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIDE AND PREJUDICE *** + + + + +Produced by Anonymous Volunteers + + + + + +PRIDE AND PREJUDICE + +By Jane Austen + + + +Chapter 1 + + +It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession +of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. + +However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his +first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds +of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property +of some one or other of their daughters. + +"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that +Netherfield Park is let at last?" + +Mr. Bennet replied that he had not. + +"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she +told me all about it." + +Mr. Bennet made no answer. + +"Do you not want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently. + +"_You_ want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it." + +This was invitation enough. + +"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken +by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came +down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much +delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he +is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to +be in the house by the end of next week." + +"What is his name?" + +"Bingley." + +"Is he married or single?" + +"Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or +five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!" + +"How so? How can it affect them?" + +"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You +must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them." + +"Is that his design in settling here?" + +"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he +_may_ fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as +soon as he comes." + +"I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send +them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are +as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley may like you the best of the +party." + +"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly _have_ had my share of beauty, but +I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five +grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty." + +"In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of." + +"But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into +the neighbourhood." + +"It is more than I engage for, I assure you." + +"But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would +be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to +go, merely on that account, for in general, you know, they visit no +newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for _us_ to +visit him if you do not." + +"You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very +glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my +hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls; though +I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy." + +"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the +others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so +good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving _her_ the preference." + +"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he; "they are +all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of +quickness than her sisters." + +"Mr. Bennet, how _can_ you abuse your own children in such a way? You +take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves." + +"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They +are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration +these last twenty years at least." + +"Ah, you do not know what I suffer." + +"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four +thousand a year come into the neighbourhood." + +"It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not +visit them." + +"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them +all." + +Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, +reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had +been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. _Her_ mind +was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, +little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, +she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her +daughters married; its solace was visiting and news. + + + +Chapter 2 + + +Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He +had always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring +his wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was +paid she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the following +manner. Observing his second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he +suddenly addressed her with: + +"I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy." + +"We are not in a way to know _what_ Mr. Bingley likes," said her mother +resentfully, "since we are not to visit." + +"But you forget, mamma," said Elizabeth, "that we shall meet him at the +assemblies, and that Mrs. Long promised to introduce him." + +"I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces +of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion +of her." + +"No more have I," said Mr. Bennet; "and I am glad to find that you do +not depend on her serving you." + +Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply, but, unable to contain +herself, began scolding one of her daughters. + +"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little +compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces." + +"Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said her father; "she times +them ill." + +"I do not cough for my own amusement," replied Kitty fretfully. "When is +your next ball to be, Lizzy?" + +"To-morrow fortnight." + +"Aye, so it is," cried her mother, "and Mrs. Long does not come back +till the day before; so it will be impossible for her to introduce him, +for she will not know him herself." + +"Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce +Mr. Bingley to _her_." + +"Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him +myself; how can you be so teasing?" + +"I honour your circumspection. A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly +very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a +fortnight. But if _we_ do not venture somebody else will; and after all, +Mrs. Long and her daughters must stand their chance; and, therefore, as +she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will +take it on myself." + +The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, "Nonsense, +nonsense!" + +"What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?" cried he. "Do +you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on +them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you _there_. What say you, +Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflection, I know, and read +great books and make extracts." + +Mary wished to say something sensible, but knew not how. + +"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he continued, "let us return to Mr. +Bingley." + +"I am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried his wife. + +"I am sorry to hear _that_; but why did not you tell me that before? If +I had known as much this morning I certainly would not have called +on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we +cannot escape the acquaintance now." + +The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of Mrs. +Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though, when the first tumult of joy +was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the +while. + +"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should +persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to +neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is such a +good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning and never said a +word about it till now." + +"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose," said Mr. Bennet; and, +as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife. + +"What an excellent father you have, girls!" said she, when the door was +shut. "I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness; +or me, either, for that matter. At our time of life it is not so +pleasant, I can tell you, to be making new acquaintances every day; but +for your sakes, we would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you _are_ +the youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next +ball." + +"Oh!" said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I _am_ the +youngest, I'm the tallest." + +The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he would +return Mr. Bennet's visit, and determining when they should ask him to +dinner. + + + +Chapter 3 + + +Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five +daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her +husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him +in various ways--with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and +distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all, and they were at +last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, +Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been +delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely +agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly +with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of +dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively +hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were entertained. + +"If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield," +said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, "and all the others equally well +married, I shall have nothing to wish for." + +In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and sat about +ten minutes with him in his library. He had entertained hopes of being +admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had +heard much; but he saw only the father. The ladies were somewhat more +fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper +window that he wore a blue coat, and rode a black horse. + +An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already +had Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her +housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley +was obliged to be in town the following day, and, consequently, unable +to accept the honour of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite +disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town +so soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that +he might be always flying about from one place to another, and never +settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears +a little by starting the idea of his being gone to London only to get +a large party for the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley +was to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the assembly. +The girls grieved over such a number of ladies, but were comforted the +day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought only +six with him from London--his five sisters and a cousin. And when +the party entered the assembly room it consisted of only five +altogether--Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and +another young man. + +Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant +countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, +with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely +looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention +of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and +the report which was in general circulation within five minutes +after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen +pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared he +was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great +admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust +which turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be +proud; to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all +his large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most +forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared +with his friend. + +Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal +people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, +was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving +one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for +themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced +only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being +introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in +walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party. +His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man +in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again. +Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of +his general behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by his +having slighted one of her daughters. + +Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit +down for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr. Darcy had been +standing near enough for her to hear a conversation between him and Mr. +Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes, to press his friend +to join it. + +"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you +standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better +dance." + +"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am +particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this +it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not +another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to +stand up with." + +"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Mr. Bingley, "for a +kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in +my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see +uncommonly pretty." + +"_You_ are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr. +Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet. + +"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one +of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I +dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you." + +"Which do you mean?" and turning round he looked for a moment at +Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: +"She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt _me_; I am in no +humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted +by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her +smiles, for you are wasting your time with me." + +Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth +remained with no very cordial feelings toward him. She told the story, +however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, +playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous. + +The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs. +Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield +party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she had been +distinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this as +her mother could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's +pleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most +accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been +fortunate enough never to be without partners, which was all that they +had yet learnt to care for at a ball. They returned, therefore, in good +spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they +were the principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With +a book he was regardless of time; and on the present occasion he had a +good deal of curiosity as to the events of an evening which had raised +such splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that his wife's views on +the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found out that he had a +different story to hear. + +"Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet," as she entered the room, "we have had a most +delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there. +Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well +she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced with +her twice! Only think of _that_, my dear; he actually danced with her +twice! and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second +time. First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand +up with her! But, however, he did not admire her at all; indeed, nobody +can, you know; and he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going +down the dance. So he inquired who she was, and got introduced, and +asked her for the two next. Then the two third he danced with Miss King, +and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, +and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the _Boulanger_--" + +"If he had had any compassion for _me_," cried her husband impatiently, +"he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of +his partners. O that he had sprained his ankle in the first place!" + +"Oh! my dear, I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively +handsome! And his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw +anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. +Hurst's gown--" + +Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any +description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch +of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some +exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy. + +"But I can assure you," she added, "that Lizzy does not lose much by not +suiting _his_ fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at +all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring +him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very +great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my +dear, to have given him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man." + + + +Chapter 4 + + +When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in +her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister just how very +much she admired him. + +"He is just what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible, +good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!--so much +ease, with such perfect good breeding!" + +"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth, "which a young man ought +likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete." + +"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I +did not expect such a compliment." + +"Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference between +us. Compliments always take _you_ by surprise, and _me_ never. What +could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help +seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman +in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is +very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a +stupider person." + +"Dear Lizzy!" + +"Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. +You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are good and agreeable +in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in your +life." + +"I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak +what I think." + +"I know you do; and it is _that_ which makes the wonder. With _your_ +good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of +others! Affectation of candour is common enough--one meets with it +everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design--to take the +good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing +of the bad--belongs to you alone. And so you like this man's sisters, +too, do you? Their manners are not equal to his." + +"Certainly not--at first. But they are very pleasing women when you +converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother, and keep +his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming +neighbour in her." + +Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their behaviour at +the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more +quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister, +and with a judgement too unassailed by any attention to herself, she +was very little disposed to approve them. They were in fact very fine +ladies; not deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the +power of making themselves agreeable when they chose it, but proud and +conceited. They were rather handsome, had been educated in one of the +first private seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand +pounds, were in the habit of spending more than they ought, and of +associating with people of rank, and were therefore in every respect +entitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of others. They were of +a respectable family in the north of England; a circumstance more deeply +impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune and their +own had been acquired by trade. + +Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred +thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an +estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, and +sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided with a +good house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those +who best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the +remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next generation to +purchase. + +His sisters were anxious for his having an estate of his own; but, +though he was now only established as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no +means unwilling to preside at his table--nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had +married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to consider +his house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of +age two years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation +to look at Netherfield House. He did look at it, and into it for +half-an-hour--was pleased with the situation and the principal +rooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its praise, and took it +immediately. + +Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of +great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the +easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper, though no disposition +could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he +never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy's regard, Bingley +had the firmest reliance, and of his judgement the highest opinion. +In understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means +deficient, but Darcy was clever. He was at the same time haughty, +reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not +inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley +was sure of being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually +giving offense. + +The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently +characteristic. Bingley had never met with more pleasant people or +prettier girls in his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive +to him; there had been no formality, no stiffness; he had soon felt +acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he could not +conceive an angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a +collection of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for +none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and from none received +either attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, +but she smiled too much. + +Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so--but still they admired +her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one +whom they would not object to know more of. Miss Bennet was therefore +established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorized by such +commendation to think of her as he chose. + + + +Chapter 5 + + +Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets +were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade +in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the +honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty. +The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a +disgust to his business, and to his residence in a small market town; +and, in quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house +about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, +where he could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, +unshackled by business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all +the world. For, though elated by his rank, it did not render him +supercilious; on the contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By +nature inoffensive, friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St. +James's had made him courteous. + +Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a +valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest +of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was +Elizabeth's intimate friend. + +That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over +a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly +brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate. + +"_You_ began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet with civil +self-command to Miss Lucas. "_You_ were Mr. Bingley's first choice." + +"Yes; but he seemed to like his second better." + +"Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be +sure that _did_ seem as if he admired her--indeed I rather believe he +_did_--I heard something about it--but I hardly know what--something +about Mr. Robinson." + +"Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not +I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton +assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many +pretty women in the room, and _which_ he thought the prettiest? and his +answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet, +beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point.'" + +"Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed--that does seem as +if--but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know." + +"_My_ overhearings were more to the purpose than _yours_, Eliza," said +Charlotte. "Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend, +is he?--poor Eliza!--to be only just _tolerable_." + +"I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by his +ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be quite +a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he +sat close to her for half-an-hour without once opening his lips." + +"Are you quite sure, ma'am?--is not there a little mistake?" said Jane. +"I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her." + +"Aye--because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he +could not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry at +being spoke to." + +"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much, +unless among his intimate acquaintances. With _them_ he is remarkably +agreeable." + +"I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very +agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it +was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he had +heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had come to +the ball in a hack chaise." + +"I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long," said Miss Lucas, "but I +wish he had danced with Eliza." + +"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance with _him_, +if I were you." + +"I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you _never_ to dance with him." + +"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend _me_ so much as pride +often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so +very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour, +should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a _right_ +to be proud." + +"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive +_his_ pride, if he had not mortified _mine_." + +"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her +reflections, "is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have +ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human +nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us +who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some +quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different +things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may +be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of +ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us." + +"If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy," cried a young Lucas, who came with +his sisters, "I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of +foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day." + +"Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Mrs. +Bennet; "and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle +directly." + +The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she +would, and the argument ended only with the visit. + + + +Chapter 6 + + +The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit +was soon returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on +the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was +found to be intolerable, and the younger sisters not worth speaking to, +a wish of being better acquainted with _them_ was expressed towards +the two eldest. By Jane, this attention was received with the greatest +pleasure, but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment +of everybody, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them; +though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value as arising in +all probability from the influence of their brother's admiration. It +was generally evident whenever they met, that he _did_ admire her and +to _her_ it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference +which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a +way to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure that it +was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane +united, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a +uniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicions +of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss Lucas. + +"It may perhaps be pleasant," replied Charlotte, "to be able to impose +on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be +so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill +from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and +it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in +the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every +attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all +_begin_ freely--a slight preference is natural enough; but there are +very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without +encouragement. In nine cases out of ten a women had better show _more_ +affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he +may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on." + +"But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can +perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to +discover it too." + +"Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane's disposition as you do." + +"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal +it, he must find it out." + +"Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But, though Bingley and Jane +meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and, as they +always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that +every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should +therefore make the most of every half-hour in which she can command his +attention. When she is secure of him, there will be more leisure for +falling in love as much as she chooses." + +"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where nothing is in +question but the desire of being well married, and if I were determined +to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But +these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, +she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard nor of its +reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four +dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house, +and has since dined with him in company four times. This is not quite +enough to make her understand his character." + +"Not as you represent it. Had she merely _dined_ with him, she might +only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must +remember that four evenings have also been spent together--and four +evenings may do a great deal." + +"Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they +both like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respect to any other +leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded." + +"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success with all my heart; and +if she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a +chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a +twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If +the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or +ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the +least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to +have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as +possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your +life." + +"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not +sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself." + +Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth +was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some +interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely +allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the +ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no +sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she hardly +had a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered +uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To +this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had +detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry +in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and +pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those +of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of +this she was perfectly unaware; to her he was only the man who made +himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enough +to dance with. + +He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing +with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so +drew her notice. It was at Sir William Lucas's, where a large party were +assembled. + +"What does Mr. Darcy mean," said she to Charlotte, "by listening to my +conversation with Colonel Forster?" + +"That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer." + +"But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see +what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by +being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him." + +On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have +any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such +a subject to him; which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she +turned to him and said: + +"Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly +well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at +Meryton?" + +"With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady +energetic." + +"You are severe on us." + +"It will be _her_ turn soon to be teased," said Miss Lucas. "I am going +to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows." + +"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!--always wanting me +to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my vanity had taken +a musical turn, you would have been invaluable; but as it is, I would +really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of +hearing the very best performers." On Miss Lucas's persevering, however, +she added, "Very well, if it must be so, it must." And gravely glancing +at Mr. Darcy, "There is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of +course familiar with: 'Keep your breath to cool your porridge'; and I +shall keep mine to swell my song." + +Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song +or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that +she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her +sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in +the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always +impatient for display. + +Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her +application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited +manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she +had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with +much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the +end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by +Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who, +with some of the Lucases, and two or three officers, joined eagerly in +dancing at one end of the room. + +Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of +passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too +much engrossed by his thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas was +his neighbour, till Sir William thus began: + +"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There +is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first +refinements of polished society." + +"Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst +the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance." + +Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully," he +continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; "and I doubt +not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy." + +"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir." + +"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do +you often dance at St. James's?" + +"Never, sir." + +"Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?" + +"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it." + +"You have a house in town, I conclude?" + +Mr. Darcy bowed. + +"I had once had some thought of fixing in town myself--for I am fond +of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of +London would agree with Lady Lucas." + +He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed +to make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was +struck with the action of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to +her: + +"My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow +me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You +cannot refuse to dance, I am sure when so much beauty is before you." +And, taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy who, though +extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly +drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William: + +"Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you +not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner." + +Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of +her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at +all shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion. + +"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny +me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the +amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us +for one half-hour." + +"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling. + +"He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, +we cannot wonder at his complaisance--for who would object to such a +partner?" + +Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not +injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some +complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley: + +"I can guess the subject of your reverie." + +"I should imagine not." + +"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings +in this manner--in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. +I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise--the +nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would +I give to hear your strictures on them!" + +"You conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more +agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure +which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow." + +Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he +would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. +Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity: + +"Miss Elizabeth Bennet." + +"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley. "I am all astonishment. +How long has she been such a favourite?--and pray, when am I to wish you +joy?" + +"That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady's +imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love +to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy." + +"Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is +absolutely settled. You will be having a charming mother-in-law, indeed; +and, of course, she will always be at Pemberley with you." + +He listened to her with perfect indifference while she chose to +entertain herself in this manner; and as his composure convinced her +that all was safe, her wit flowed long. + + + +Chapter 7 + + +Mr. Bennet's property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two +thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed, +in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother's +fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply +the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and +had left her four thousand pounds. + +She had a sister married to a Mr. Phillips, who had been a clerk to +their father and succeeded him in the business, and a brother settled in +London in a respectable line of trade. + +The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most +convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted +thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and +to a milliner's shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, +Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions; +their minds were more vacant than their sisters', and when nothing +better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning +hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news +the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some +from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with +news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the +neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the +headquarters. + +Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most +interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge +of the officers' names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a +secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. +Phillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of +felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and +Mr. Bingley's large fortune, the mention of which gave animation +to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the +regimentals of an ensign. + +After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. +Bennet coolly observed: + +"From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two +of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but +I am now convinced." + +Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect +indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, +and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the +next morning to London. + +"I am astonished, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "that you should be so +ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly +of anybody's children, it should not be of my own, however." + +"If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it." + +"Yes--but as it happens, they are all of them very clever." + +"This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I +had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must +so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly +foolish." + +"My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of +their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will +not think about officers any more than we do. I remember the time when +I liked a red coat myself very well--and, indeed, so I do still at my +heart; and if a smart young colonel, with five or six thousand a year, +should want one of my girls I shall not say nay to him; and I thought +Colonel Forster looked very becoming the other night at Sir William's in +his regimentals." + +"Mamma," cried Lydia, "my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain +Carter do not go so often to Miss Watson's as they did when they first +came; she sees them now very often standing in Clarke's library." + +Mrs. Bennet was prevented replying by the entrance of the footman with +a note for Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield, and the servant waited +for an answer. Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she was +eagerly calling out, while her daughter read, + +"Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say? Well, +Jane, make haste and tell us; make haste, my love." + +"It is from Miss Bingley," said Jane, and then read it aloud. + +"MY DEAR FRIEND,-- + +"If you are not so compassionate as to dine to-day with Louisa and me, +we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives, +for a whole day's tete-a-tete between two women can never end without a +quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the +gentlemen are to dine with the officers.--Yours ever, + +"CAROLINE BINGLEY" + +"With the officers!" cried Lydia. "I wonder my aunt did not tell us of +_that_." + +"Dining out," said Mrs. Bennet, "that is very unlucky." + +"Can I have the carriage?" said Jane. + +"No, my dear, you had better go on horseback, because it seems likely to +rain; and then you must stay all night." + +"That would be a good scheme," said Elizabeth, "if you were sure that +they would not offer to send her home." + +"Oh! but the gentlemen will have Mr. Bingley's chaise to go to Meryton, +and the Hursts have no horses to theirs." + +"I had much rather go in the coach." + +"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses, I am sure. They are +wanted in the farm, Mr. Bennet, are they not?" + +"They are wanted in the farm much oftener than I can get them." + +"But if you have got them to-day," said Elizabeth, "my mother's purpose +will be answered." + +She did at last extort from her father an acknowledgment that the horses +were engaged. Jane was therefore obliged to go on horseback, and her +mother attended her to the door with many cheerful prognostics of a +bad day. Her hopes were answered; Jane had not been gone long before +it rained hard. Her sisters were uneasy for her, but her mother was +delighted. The rain continued the whole evening without intermission; +Jane certainly could not come back. + +"This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!" said Mrs. Bennet more than +once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the +next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her +contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield +brought the following note for Elizabeth: + +"MY DEAREST LIZZY,-- + +"I find myself very unwell this morning, which, I suppose, is to be +imputed to my getting wet through yesterday. My kind friends will not +hear of my returning till I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr. +Jones--therefore do not be alarmed if you should hear of his having been +to me--and, excepting a sore throat and headache, there is not much the +matter with me.--Yours, etc." + +"Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note +aloud, "if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness--if she +should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of +Mr. Bingley, and under your orders." + +"Oh! I am not afraid of her dying. People do not die of little trifling +colds. She will be taken good care of. As long as she stays there, it is +all very well. I would go and see her if I could have the carriage." + +Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though +the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horsewoman, walking +was her only alternative. She declared her resolution. + +"How can you be so silly," cried her mother, "as to think of such a +thing, in all this dirt! You will not be fit to be seen when you get +there." + +"I shall be very fit to see Jane--which is all I want." + +"Is this a hint to me, Lizzy," said her father, "to send for the +horses?" + +"No, indeed, I do not wish to avoid the walk. The distance is nothing +when one has a motive; only three miles. I shall be back by dinner." + +"I admire the activity of your benevolence," observed Mary, "but every +impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and, in my opinion, +exertion should always be in proportion to what is required." + +"We will go as far as Meryton with you," said Catherine and Lydia. +Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off +together. + +"If we make haste," said Lydia, as they walked along, "perhaps we may +see something of Captain Carter before he goes." + +In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one +of the officers' wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing +field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing +over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last +within view of the house, with weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face +glowing with the warmth of exercise. + +She was shown into the breakfast-parlour, where all but Jane were +assembled, and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise. +That she should have walked three miles so early in the day, in such +dirty weather, and by herself, was almost incredible to Mrs. Hurst and +Miss Bingley; and Elizabeth was convinced that they held her in contempt +for it. She was received, however, very politely by them; and in their +brother's manners there was something better than politeness; there +was good humour and kindness. Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. +Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the +brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as +to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was +thinking only of his breakfast. + +Her inquiries after her sister were not very favourably answered. Miss +Bennet had slept ill, and though up, was very feverish, and not +well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her +immediately; and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving +alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much she longed +for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance. She was not equal, +however, to much conversation, and when Miss Bingley left them +together, could attempt little besides expressions of gratitude for the +extraordinary kindness she was treated with. Elizabeth silently attended +her. + +When breakfast was over they were joined by the sisters; and Elizabeth +began to like them herself, when she saw how much affection and +solicitude they showed for Jane. The apothecary came, and having +examined his patient, said, as might be supposed, that she had caught +a violent cold, and that they must endeavour to get the better of it; +advised her to return to bed, and promised her some draughts. The advice +was followed readily, for the feverish symptoms increased, and her head +ached acutely. Elizabeth did not quit her room for a moment; nor were +the other ladies often absent; the gentlemen being out, they had, in +fact, nothing to do elsewhere. + +When the clock struck three, Elizabeth felt that she must go, and very +unwillingly said so. Miss Bingley offered her the carriage, and she only +wanted a little pressing to accept it, when Jane testified such concern +in parting with her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to convert the offer +of the chaise to an invitation to remain at Netherfield for the present. +Elizabeth most thankfully consented, and a servant was dispatched to +Longbourn to acquaint the family with her stay and bring back a supply +of clothes. + + + +Chapter 8 + + +At five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past six +Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then +poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the +much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a very +favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing +this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how +shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked +being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter: and their +indifference towards Jane when not immediately before them restored +Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her former dislike. + +Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could +regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident, and his +attentions to herself most pleasing, and they prevented her feeling +herself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by the +others. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Bingley was +engrossed by Mr. Darcy, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr. +Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to +eat, drink, and play at cards; who, when he found her to prefer a plain +dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her. + +When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley +began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were +pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; +she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the +same, and added: + +"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent +walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really +looked almost wild." + +"She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very +nonsensical to come at all! Why must _she_ be scampering about the +country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!" + +"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep +in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to +hide it not doing its office." + +"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley; "but this was +all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably +well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite +escaped my notice." + +"_You_ observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley; "and I am +inclined to think that you would not wish to see _your_ sister make such +an exhibition." + +"Certainly not." + +"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, +above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by +it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, +a most country-town indifference to decorum." + +"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing," said +Bingley. + +"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy," observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, "that +this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes." + +"Not at all," he replied; "they were brightened by the exercise." A +short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again: + +"I have a excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet, she is really a very +sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with +such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is +no chance of it." + +"I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney on +Meryton." + +"Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Cheapside." + +"That is capital," added her sister, and they both laughed heartily. + +"If they had uncles enough to fill _all_ Cheapside," cried Bingley, "it +would not make them one jot less agreeable." + +"But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any +consideration in the world," replied Darcy. + +To this speech Bingley made no answer; but his sisters gave it their +hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of +their dear friend's vulgar relations. + +With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room on +leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee. +She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not quit her at all, till +late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her sleep, and +when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should go +downstairs herself. On entering the drawing-room she found the whole +party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting +them to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister the +excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay +below, with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her with astonishment. + +"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he; "that is rather singular." + +"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, "despises cards. She is a great +reader, and has no pleasure in anything else." + +"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," cried Elizabeth; "I am +_not_ a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things." + +"In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure," said Bingley; "and +I hope it will be soon increased by seeing her quite well." + +Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards the +table where a few books were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her +others--all that his library afforded. + +"And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own +credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more +than I ever looked into." + +Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those +in the room. + +"I am astonished," said Miss Bingley, "that my father should have left +so small a collection of books. What a delightful library you have at +Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!" + +"It ought to be good," he replied, "it has been the work of many +generations." + +"And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying +books." + +"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as +these." + +"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of +that noble place. Charles, when you build _your_ house, I wish it may be +half as delightful as Pemberley." + +"I wish it may." + +"But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that +neighbourhood, and take Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a +finer county in England than Derbyshire." + +"With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley itself if Darcy will sell it." + +"I am talking of possibilities, Charles." + +"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it more possible to get +Pemberley by purchase than by imitation." + +Elizabeth was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her very +little attention for her book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew +near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Bingley and his +eldest sister, to observe the game. + +"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?" said Miss Bingley; "will +she be as tall as I am?" + +"I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or +rather taller." + +"How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me +so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished +for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite." + +"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how young ladies can have patience +to be so very accomplished as they all are." + +"All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?" + +"Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and +net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure +I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being +informed that she was very accomplished." + +"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said Darcy, "has +too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no +otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very +far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I +cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my +acquaintance, that are really accomplished." + +"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley. + +"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal in your +idea of an accomplished woman." + +"Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it." + +"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant, "no one can be really +esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met +with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, +dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides +all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of +walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word +will be but half-deserved." + +"All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this she must +yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by +extensive reading." + +"I am no longer surprised at your knowing _only_ six accomplished women. +I rather wonder now at your knowing _any_." + +"Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all +this?" + +"I never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity, and taste, and +application, and elegance, as you describe united." + +Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out against the injustice of her +implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who +answered this description, when Mr. Hurst called them to order, with +bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all +conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth soon afterwards left the +room. + +"Elizabeth Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on her, +"is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the +other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it +succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art." + +"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, +"there is a meanness in _all_ the arts which ladies sometimes condescend +to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is +despicable." + +Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to +continue the subject. + +Elizabeth joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and +that she could not leave her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones being sent for +immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could +be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most +eminent physicians. This she would not hear of; but she was not so +unwilling to comply with their brother's proposal; and it was settled +that Mr. Jones should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Bennet +were not decidedly better. Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters +declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, +however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better relief +to his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every +attention might be paid to the sick lady and her sister. + + + +Chapter 9 + + +Elizabeth passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in the +morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the +inquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid, +and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his +sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a +note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her +own judgement of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and +its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her +two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast. + +Had she found Jane in any apparent danger, Mrs. Bennet would have been +very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was +not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her +restoration to health would probably remove her from Netherfield. She +would not listen, therefore, to her daughter's proposal of being carried +home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think +it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with Jane, on Miss +Bingley's appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughter all +attended her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley met them with hopes +that Mrs. Bennet had not found Miss Bennet worse than she expected. + +"Indeed I have, sir," was her answer. "She is a great deal too ill to be +moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass +a little longer on your kindness." + +"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am +sure, will not hear of her removal." + +"You may depend upon it, Madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, +"that Miss Bennet will receive every possible attention while she +remains with us." + +Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments. + +"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not +know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers +a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is +always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest +temper I have ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are +nothing to _her_. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a +charming prospect over the gravel walk. I do not know a place in the +country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it +in a hurry, I hope, though you have but a short lease." + +"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore if I +should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five +minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here." + +"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said Elizabeth. + +"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning towards her. + +"Oh! yes--I understand you perfectly." + +"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen +through I am afraid is pitiful." + +"That is as it happens. It does not follow that a deep, intricate +character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours." + +"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are, and do not run on in +the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home." + +"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you were a +studier of character. It must be an amusing study." + +"Yes, but intricate characters are the _most_ amusing. They have at +least that advantage." + +"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but a few subjects for +such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and +unvarying society." + +"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be +observed in them for ever." + +"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning +a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of _that_ +going on in the country as in town." + +Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, +turned silently away. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete +victory over him, continued her triumph. + +"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country, for +my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal +pleasanter, is it not, Mr. Bingley?" + +"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to leave it; +and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their +advantages, and I can be equally happy in either." + +"Aye--that is because you have the right disposition. But that +gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was nothing +at all." + +"Indeed, Mamma, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her +mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there was not +such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the town, +which you must acknowledge to be true." + +"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting +with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few +neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty families." + +Nothing but concern for Elizabeth could enable Bingley to keep his +countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eyes towards +Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, for the sake of +saying something that might turn her mother's thoughts, now asked her if +Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since _her_ coming away. + +"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir +William is, Mr. Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fashion! So +genteel and easy! He had always something to say to everybody. _That_ +is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very +important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter." + +"Did Charlotte dine with you?" + +"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For +my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; +_my_ daughters are brought up very differently. But everybody is to +judge for themselves, and the Lucases are a very good sort of girls, +I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think +Charlotte so _very_ plain--but then she is our particular friend." + +"She seems a very pleasant young woman." + +"Oh! dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself +has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast +of my own child, but to be sure, Jane--one does not often see anybody +better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own +partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a man at my brother +Gardiner's in town so much in love with her that my sister-in-law was +sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, he +did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses +on her, and very pretty they were." + +"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has +been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first +discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!" + +"I have been used to consider poetry as the _food_ of love," said Darcy. + +"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is +strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I +am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away." + +Darcy only smiled; and the general pause which ensued made Elizabeth +tremble lest her mother should be exposing herself again. She longed to +speak, but could think of nothing to say; and after a short silence Mrs. +Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to +Jane, with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was +unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be +civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part +indeed without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and +soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of +her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to +each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the +youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming +into the country to give a ball at Netherfield. + +Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion +and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose +affection had brought her into public at an early age. She had high +animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the +attention of the officers, to whom her uncle's good dinners, and her own +easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very +equal, therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and +abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the most +shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this +sudden attack was delightful to their mother's ear: + +"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement; and when +your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of +the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing when she is ill." + +Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh! yes--it would be much better to +wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter +would be at Meryton again. And when you have given _your_ ball," she +added, "I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel +Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not." + +Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned +instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to the +remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however, +could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of _her_, in spite of +all Miss Bingley's witticisms on _fine eyes_. + + + +Chapter 10 + + +The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss +Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who +continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined +their party in the drawing-room. The loo-table, however, did not appear. +Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching +the progress of his letter and repeatedly calling off his attention by +messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and +Mrs. Hurst was observing their game. + +Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in +attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual +commendations of the lady, either on his handwriting, or on the evenness +of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern +with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was +exactly in union with her opinion of each. + +"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!" + +He made no answer. + +"You write uncommonly fast." + +"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly." + +"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a +year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them!" + +"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of yours." + +"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her." + +"I have already told her so once, by your desire." + +"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend +pens remarkably well." + +"Thank you--but I always mend my own." + +"How can you contrive to write so even?" + +He was silent. + +"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp; +and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful +little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss +Grantley's." + +"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At +present I have not room to do them justice." + +"Oh! it is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you +always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?" + +"They are generally long; but whether always charming it is not for me +to determine." + +"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter with +ease, cannot write ill." + +"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried her +brother, "because he does _not_ write with ease. He studies too much for +words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?" + +"My style of writing is very different from yours." + +"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way +imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest." + +"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them--by which +means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents." + +"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm reproof." + +"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of +humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an +indirect boast." + +"And which of the two do you call _my_ little recent piece of modesty?" + +"The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in +writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of +thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you +think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything with +quickness is always prized much by the possessor, and often without any +attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs. +Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved upon quitting Netherfield +you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of +panegyric, of compliment to yourself--and yet what is there so very +laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business +undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?" + +"Nay," cried Bingley, "this is too much, to remember at night all the +foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, +I believe what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this +moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless +precipitance merely to show off before the ladies." + +"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that +you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as +dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were +mounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better +stay till next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably not +go--and at another word, might stay a month." + +"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley did +not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much +more than he did himself." + +"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley, "by your converting what my +friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am +afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means +intend; for he would certainly think better of me, if under such a +circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I +could." + +"Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intentions +as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?" + +"Upon my word, I cannot exactly explain the matter; Darcy must speak for +himself." + +"You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, +but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to +stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, +that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and +the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering +one argument in favour of its propriety." + +"To yield readily--easily--to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no merit +with you." + +"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of +either." + +"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of +friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make +one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason +one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have +supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the +circumstance occurs before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour +thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, +where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no +very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying +with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?" + +"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to +arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to +appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting +between the parties?" + +"By all means," cried Bingley; "let us hear all the particulars, not +forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more +weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure +you, that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with +myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not +know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in +particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, +when he has nothing to do." + +Mr. Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was +rather offended, and therefore checked her laugh. Miss Bingley warmly +resented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation with her +brother for talking such nonsense. + +"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend. "You dislike an argument, +and want to silence this." + +"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss +Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very +thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me." + +"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr. +Darcy had much better finish his letter." + +Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter. + +When that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth +for an indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with some alacrity +to the pianoforte; and, after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead +the way which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she +seated herself. + +Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed, +Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music-books +that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed +on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of +admiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her +because he disliked her, was still more strange. She could only imagine, +however, at last that she drew his notice because there was something +more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than in +any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked +him too little to care for his approbation. + +After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by +a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near +Elizabeth, said to her: + +"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an +opportunity of dancing a reel?" + +She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some +surprise at her silence. + +"Oh!" said she, "I heard you before, but I could not immediately +determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes,' +that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always +delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of +their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell +you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all--and now despise me if +you dare." + +"Indeed I do not dare." + +Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his +gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her +manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy +had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really +believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he +should be in some danger. + +Miss Bingley saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and her great +anxiety for the recovery of her dear friend Jane received some +assistance from her desire of getting rid of Elizabeth. + +She often tried to provoke Darcy into disliking her guest, by talking of +their supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance. + +"I hope," said she, as they were walking together in the shrubbery +the next day, "you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this +desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue; +and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after +officers. And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavour to +check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, +which your lady possesses." + +"Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?" + +"Oh! yes. Do let the portraits of your uncle and aunt Phillips be placed +in the gallery at Pemberley. Put them next to your great-uncle the +judge. They are in the same profession, you know, only in different +lines. As for your Elizabeth's picture, you must not have it taken, for +what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?" + +"It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their +colour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be +copied." + +At that moment they were met from another walk by Mrs. Hurst and +Elizabeth herself. + +"I did not know that you intended to walk," said Miss Bingley, in some +confusion, lest they had been overheard. + +"You used us abominably ill," answered Mrs. Hurst, "running away without +telling us that you were coming out." + +Then taking the disengaged arm of Mr. Darcy, she left Elizabeth to walk +by herself. The path just admitted three. Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness, +and immediately said: + +"This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the +avenue." + +But Elizabeth, who had not the least inclination to remain with them, +laughingly answered: + +"No, no; stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped, and appear +to uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a +fourth. Good-bye." + +She then ran gaily off, rejoicing as she rambled about, in the hope of +being at home again in a day or two. Jane was already so much recovered +as to intend leaving her room for a couple of hours that evening. + + + +Chapter 11 + + +When the ladies removed after dinner, Elizabeth ran up to her +sister, and seeing her well guarded from cold, attended her into the +drawing-room, where she was welcomed by her two friends with many +professions of pleasure; and Elizabeth had never seen them so agreeable +as they were during the hour which passed before the gentlemen appeared. +Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an +entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh +at their acquaintance with spirit. + +But when the gentlemen entered, Jane was no longer the first object; +Miss Bingley's eyes were instantly turned toward Darcy, and she had +something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He addressed +himself to Miss Bennet, with a polite congratulation; Mr. Hurst also +made her a slight bow, and said he was "very glad;" but diffuseness +and warmth remained for Bingley's salutation. He was full of joy and +attention. The first half-hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she +should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire +to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be further from +the door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to anyone +else. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great +delight. + +When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the +card-table--but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr. +Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open +petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and +the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr. +Hurst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the +sofas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same; +and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets +and rings, joined now and then in her brother's conversation with Miss +Bennet. + +Miss Bingley's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Mr. +Darcy's progress through _his_ book, as in reading her own; and she +was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. She +could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered her +question, and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be +amused with her own book, which she had only chosen because it was the +second volume of his, she gave a great yawn and said, "How pleasant +it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no +enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a +book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not +an excellent library." + +No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and +cast her eyes round the room in quest for some amusement; when hearing +her brother mentioning a ball to Miss Bennet, she turned suddenly +towards him and said: + +"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at +Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult +the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are +not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a +pleasure." + +"If you mean Darcy," cried her brother, "he may go to bed, if he +chooses, before it begins--but as for the ball, it is quite a settled +thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough, I shall send +round my cards." + +"I should like balls infinitely better," she replied, "if they were +carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably +tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much +more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of +the day." + +"Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I dare say, but it would not be +near so much like a ball." + +Miss Bingley made no answer, and soon afterwards she got up and walked +about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; but +Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In +the desperation of her feelings, she resolved on one effort more, and, +turning to Elizabeth, said: + +"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a +turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so +long in one attitude." + +Elizabeth was surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Miss Bingley +succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked +up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as +Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. He was +directly invited to join their party, but he declined it, observing that +he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down +the room together, with either of which motives his joining them would +interfere. "What could he mean? She was dying to know what could be his +meaning?"--and asked Elizabeth whether she could at all understand him? + +"Not at all," was her answer; "but depend upon it, he means to be severe +on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing +about it." + +Miss Bingley, however, was incapable of disappointing Mr. Darcy in +anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his +two motives. + +"I have not the smallest objection to explaining them," said he, as soon +as she allowed him to speak. "You either choose this method of passing +the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret +affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures +appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I would be +completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better +as I sit by the fire." + +"Oh! shocking!" cried Miss Bingley. "I never heard anything so +abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?" + +"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said Elizabeth. "We +can all plague and punish one another. Tease him--laugh at him. Intimate +as you are, you must know how it is to be done." + +"But upon my honour, I do _not_. I do assure you that my intimacy has +not yet taught me _that_. Tease calmness of manner and presence of +mind! No, no--feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will +not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a +subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself." + +"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" cried Elizabeth. "That is an +uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would +be a great loss to _me_ to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a +laugh." + +"Miss Bingley," said he, "has given me more credit than can be. +The wisest and the best of men--nay, the wisest and best of their +actions--may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in +life is a joke." + +"Certainly," replied Elizabeth--"there are such people, but I hope I +am not one of _them_. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. +Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, _do_ divert me, I own, +and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely +what you are without." + +"Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study +of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong +understanding to ridicule." + +"Such as vanity and pride." + +"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride--where there is a real +superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation." + +Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile. + +"Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume," said Miss Bingley; +"and pray what is the result?" + +"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it +himself without disguise." + +"No," said Darcy, "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, +but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch +for. It is, I believe, too little yielding--certainly too little for the +convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of other +so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings +are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper +would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost +forever." + +"_That_ is a failing indeed!" cried Elizabeth. "Implacable resentment +_is_ a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I +really cannot _laugh_ at it. You are safe from me." + +"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular +evil--a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome." + +"And _your_ defect is to hate everybody." + +"And yours," he replied with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand +them." + +"Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a +conversation in which she had no share. "Louisa, you will not mind my +waking Mr. Hurst?" + +Her sister had not the smallest objection, and the pianoforte was +opened; and Darcy, after a few moments' recollection, was not sorry for +it. He began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention. + + + +Chapter 12 + + +In consequence of an agreement between the sisters, Elizabeth wrote the +next morning to their mother, to beg that the carriage might be sent for +them in the course of the day. But Mrs. Bennet, who had calculated on +her daughters remaining at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which +would exactly finish Jane's week, could not bring herself to receive +them with pleasure before. Her answer, therefore, was not propitious, at +least not to Elizabeth's wishes, for she was impatient to get home. Mrs. +Bennet sent them word that they could not possibly have the carriage +before Tuesday; and in her postscript it was added, that if Mr. Bingley +and his sister pressed them to stay longer, she could spare them +very well. Against staying longer, however, Elizabeth was positively +resolved--nor did she much expect it would be asked; and fearful, on the +contrary, as being considered as intruding themselves needlessly long, +she urged Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage immediately, and at +length it was settled that their original design of leaving Netherfield +that morning should be mentioned, and the request made. + +The communication excited many professions of concern; and enough was +said of wishing them to stay at least till the following day to work +on Jane; and till the morrow their going was deferred. Miss Bingley was +then sorry that she had proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike +of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other. + +The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so +soon, and repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be +safe for her--that she was not enough recovered; but Jane was firm where +she felt herself to be right. + +To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence--Elizabeth had been at +Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked--and Miss +Bingley was uncivil to _her_, and more teasing than usual to himself. +He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration +should _now_ escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope +of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been +suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight +in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke +ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were +at one time left by themselves for half-an-hour, he adhered most +conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her. + +On Sunday, after morning service, the separation, so agreeable to almost +all, took place. Miss Bingley's civility to Elizabeth increased at last +very rapidly, as well as her affection for Jane; and when they parted, +after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her +to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield, and embracing her most +tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Elizabeth took leave of +the whole party in the liveliest of spirits. + +They were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet +wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much +trouble, and was sure Jane would have caught cold again. But their +father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really +glad to see them; he had felt their importance in the family circle. The +evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of +its animation, and almost all its sense by the absence of Jane and +Elizabeth. + +They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough-bass and human +nature; and had some extracts to admire, and some new observations of +threadbare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had information +for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said +in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of the officers +had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flogged, and it +had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married. + + + +Chapter 13 + + +"I hope, my dear," said Mr. Bennet to his wife, as they were at +breakfast the next morning, "that you have ordered a good dinner to-day, +because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party." + +"Who do you mean, my dear? I know of nobody that is coming, I am sure, +unless Charlotte Lucas should happen to call in--and I hope _my_ dinners +are good enough for her. I do not believe she often sees such at home." + +"The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger." + +Mrs. Bennet's eyes sparkled. "A gentleman and a stranger! It is Mr. +Bingley, I am sure! Well, I am sure I shall be extremely glad to see Mr. +Bingley. But--good Lord! how unlucky! There is not a bit of fish to be +got to-day. Lydia, my love, ring the bell--I must speak to Hill this +moment." + +"It is _not_ Mr. Bingley," said her husband; "it is a person whom I +never saw in the whole course of my life." + +This roused a general astonishment; and he had the pleasure of being +eagerly questioned by his wife and his five daughters at once. + +After amusing himself some time with their curiosity, he thus explained: + +"About a month ago I received this letter; and about a fortnight ago +I answered it, for I thought it a case of some delicacy, and requiring +early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins, who, when I am dead, +may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases." + +"Oh! my dear," cried his wife, "I cannot bear to hear that mentioned. +Pray do not talk of that odious man. I do think it is the hardest thing +in the world, that your estate should be entailed away from your own +children; and I am sure, if I had been you, I should have tried long ago +to do something or other about it." + +Jane and Elizabeth tried to explain to her the nature of an entail. They +had often attempted to do it before, but it was a subject on which +Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued to rail +bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of +five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about. + +"It certainly is a most iniquitous affair," said Mr. Bennet, "and +nothing can clear Mr. Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. +But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little +softened by his manner of expressing himself." + +"No, that I am sure I shall not; and I think it is very impertinent of +him to write to you at all, and very hypocritical. I hate such false +friends. Why could he not keep on quarreling with you, as his father did +before him?" + +"Why, indeed; he does seem to have had some filial scruples on that +head, as you will hear." + +"Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, 15th October. + +"Dear Sir,-- + +"The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured +father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the +misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but +for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might +seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone +with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.--'There, Mrs. +Bennet.'--My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having +received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be +distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de +Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has +preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be +my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her +ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which +are instituted by the Church of England. As a clergyman, moreover, I +feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in +all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I +flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and +that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate +will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the +offered olive-branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the +means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for +it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible +amends--but of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to +receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting +on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o'clock, and +shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se'ennight +following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine +is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided +that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.--I +remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and +daughters, your well-wisher and friend, + +"WILLIAM COLLINS" + +"At four o'clock, therefore, we may expect this peace-making gentleman," +said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. "He seems to be a most +conscientious and polite young man, upon my word, and I doubt not will +prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine should be so +indulgent as to let him come to us again." + +"There is some sense in what he says about the girls, however, and if +he is disposed to make them any amends, I shall not be the person to +discourage him." + +"Though it is difficult," said Jane, "to guess in what way he can mean +to make us the atonement he thinks our due, the wish is certainly to his +credit." + +Elizabeth was chiefly struck by his extraordinary deference for Lady +Catherine, and his kind intention of christening, marrying, and burying +his parishioners whenever it were required. + +"He must be an oddity, I think," said she. "I cannot make him +out.--There is something very pompous in his style.--And what can he +mean by apologising for being next in the entail?--We cannot suppose he +would help it if he could.--Could he be a sensible man, sir?" + +"No, my dear, I think not. I have great hopes of finding him quite the +reverse. There is a mixture of servility and self-importance in his +letter, which promises well. I am impatient to see him." + +"In point of composition," said Mary, "the letter does not seem +defective. The idea of the olive-branch perhaps is not wholly new, yet I +think it is well expressed." + +To Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer were in any +degree interesting. It was next to impossible that their cousin should +come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they had +received pleasure from the society of a man in any other colour. As for +their mother, Mr. Collins's letter had done away much of her ill-will, +and she was preparing to see him with a degree of composure which +astonished her husband and daughters. + +Mr. Collins was punctual to his time, and was received with great +politeness by the whole family. Mr. Bennet indeed said little; but the +ladies were ready enough to talk, and Mr. Collins seemed neither in +need of encouragement, nor inclined to be silent himself. He was a +tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and +stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long seated +before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of +daughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but that in this +instance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did +not doubt her seeing them all in due time disposed of in marriage. This +gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers; but Mrs. +Bennet, who quarreled with no compliments, answered most readily. + +"You are very kind, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may +prove so, for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so +oddly." + +"You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate." + +"Ah! sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you +must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with _you_, for such things +I know are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates +will go when once they come to be entailed." + +"I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and +could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing +forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come +prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more; but, perhaps, +when we are better acquainted--" + +He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each +other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collins's admiration. The +hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture, were examined and praised; +and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs. Bennet's +heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his +own future property. The dinner too in its turn was highly admired; and +he begged to know to which of his fair cousins the excellency of its +cooking was owing. But he was set right there by Mrs. Bennet, who +assured him with some asperity that they were very well able to keep a +good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. He +begged pardon for having displeased her. In a softened tone she declared +herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologise for about a +quarter of an hour. + + + +Chapter 14 + + +During dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when the servants +were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some conversation with his +guest, and therefore started a subject in which he expected him to +shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady +Catherine de Bourgh's attention to his wishes, and consideration for +his comfort, appeared very remarkable. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen +better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise. The subject elevated him +to more than usual solemnity of manner, and with a most important aspect +he protested that "he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in +a person of rank--such affability and condescension, as he had himself +experienced from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously pleased to +approve of both of the discourses which he had already had the honour of +preaching before her. She had also asked him twice to dine at Rosings, +and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool of +quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many +people he knew, but _he_ had never seen anything but affability in her. +She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she +made not the smallest objection to his joining in the society of the +neighbourhood nor to his leaving the parish occasionally for a week or +two, to visit his relations. She had even condescended to advise him to +marry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion; and had +once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage, where she had perfectly +approved all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed +to suggest some herself--some shelves in the closet upstairs." + +"That is all very proper and civil, I am sure," said Mrs. Bennet, "and +I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies +in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?" + +"The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane +from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence." + +"I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?" + +"She has only one daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very +extensive property." + +"Ah!" said Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, "then she is better off than +many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?" + +"She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says +that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the +handsomest of her sex, because there is that in her features which marks +the young lady of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly +constitution, which has prevented her from making that progress in many +accomplishments which she could not have otherwise failed of, as I am +informed by the lady who superintended her education, and who still +resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends +to drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies." + +"Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at +court." + +"Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town; +and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine one day, has deprived the +British court of its brightest ornaments. Her ladyship seemed pleased +with the idea; and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to +offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable +to ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that +her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most +elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by +her. These are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, and +it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to +pay." + +"You judge very properly," said Mr. Bennet, "and it is happy for you +that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask +whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the +moment, or are the result of previous study?" + +"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I +sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant +compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to +give them as unstudied an air as possible." + +Mr. Bennet's expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd +as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, +maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance, +and, except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner +in his pleasure. + +By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr. Bennet was glad +to take his guest into the drawing-room again, and, when tea was over, +glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily +assented, and a book was produced; but, on beholding it (for everything +announced it to be from a circulating library), he started back, and +begging pardon, protested that he never read novels. Kitty stared at +him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were produced, and after some +deliberation he chose Fordyce's Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the +volume, and before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three +pages, she interrupted him with: + +"Do you know, mamma, that my uncle Phillips talks of turning away +Richard; and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. My aunt told me +so herself on Saturday. I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear more +about it, and to ask when Mr. Denny comes back from town." + +Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but Mr. +Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said: + +"I have often observed how little young ladies are interested by books +of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes +me, I confess; for, certainly, there can be nothing so advantageous to +them as instruction. But I will no longer importune my young cousin." + +Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at +backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he acted +very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements. +Mrs. Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for Lydia's +interruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he would +resume his book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring them that he bore his +young cousin no ill-will, and should never resent her behaviour as any +affront, seated himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared +for backgammon. + + + +Chapter 15 + + +Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had +been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part +of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and +miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he +had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful +acquaintance. The subjection in which his father had brought him up had +given him originally great humility of manner; but it was now a +good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in +retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected +prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de +Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which +he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, +mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a +clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of +pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility. + +Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended to +marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had +a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found +them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. +This was his plan of amends--of atonement--for inheriting their father's +estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and +suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own +part. + +His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet's lovely face +confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what +was due to seniority; and for the first evening _she_ was his settled +choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a +quarter of an hour's tete-a-tete with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a +conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally +to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress might be found for it at +Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general +encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. "As to +her _younger_ daughters, she could not take upon her to say--she could +not positively answer--but she did not _know_ of any prepossession; her +_eldest_ daughter, she must just mention--she felt it incumbent on her +to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged." + +Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth--and it was soon +done--done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally +next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course. + +Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have +two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of +the day before was now high in her good graces. + +Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister +except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, +at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, +and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed +him after breakfast; and there he would continue, nominally engaged with +one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr. +Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such +doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been +always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told +Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room of the +house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, +was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their +walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker +than a reader, was extremely pleased to close his large book, and go. + +In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his +cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of +the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were +immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and +nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in +a shop window, could recall them. + +But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom +they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking +with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was +the very Mr. Denny concerning whose return from London Lydia came +to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the +stranger's air, all wondered who he could be; and Kitty and Lydia, +determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under +pretense of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately +had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had +reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated +permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with +him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a +commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the +young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. +His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of +beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. +The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness +of conversation--a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and +unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together +very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy +and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the +ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and +began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and +Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to +Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated +it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes +on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the +stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they +looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. +Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, +after a few moments, touched his hat--a salutation which Mr. Darcy just +deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? It was impossible to +imagine; it was impossible not to long to know. + +In another minute, Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what +passed, took leave and rode on with his friend. + +Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of +Mr. Phillip's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's +pressing entreaties that they should come in, and even in spite of +Mrs. Phillips's throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the +invitation. + +Mrs. Phillips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest, +from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was +eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as +their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing +about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop-boy in the +street, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts to +Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility +was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She +received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with +as much more, apologising for his intrusion, without any previous +acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself, +however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who +introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Phillips was quite awed by such an +excess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon +put to an end by exclamations and inquiries about the other; of whom, +however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that +Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a +lieutenant's commission in the ----shire. She had been watching him the +last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. +Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the +occupation, but unluckily no one passed windows now except a few of the +officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become "stupid, +disagreeable fellows." Some of them were to dine with the Phillipses +the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. +Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn +would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Phillips +protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery +tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such +delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr. +Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured +with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless. + +As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass +between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either +or both, had they appeared to be in the wrong, she could no more explain +such behaviour than her sister. + +Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring +Mrs. Phillips's manners and politeness. He protested that, except Lady +Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman; +for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but even +pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although +utterly unknown to her before. Something, he supposed, might be +attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so +much attention in the whole course of his life. + + + +Chapter 16 + + +As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their +aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for +a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach +conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and +the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, +that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in +the house. + +When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr. +Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much +struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he +might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast +parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much +gratification; but when Mrs. Phillips understood from him what +Rosings was, and who was its proprietor--when she had listened to the +description of only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found +that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all +the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison +with the housekeeper's room. + +In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion, +with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode, and +the improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the +gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Phillips a very attentive +listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she +heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as +soon as she could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, +and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine +their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantelpiece, the +interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last, however. +The gentlemen did approach, and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, +Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking +of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. +The officers of the ----shire were in general a very creditable, +gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but +Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and +walk, as _they_ were superior to the broad-faced, stuffy uncle Phillips, +breathing port wine, who followed them into the room. + +Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was +turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated +himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into +conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, made her feel +that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered +interesting by the skill of the speaker. + +With such rivals for the notice of the fair as Mr. Wickham and the +officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; to the young +ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind +listener in Mrs. Phillips, and was by her watchfulness, most abundantly +supplied with coffee and muffin. When the card-tables were placed, he +had the opportunity of obliging her in turn, by sitting down to whist. + +"I know little of the game at present," said he, "but I shall be glad +to improve myself, for in my situation in life--" Mrs. Phillips was very +glad for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason. + +Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and with ready delight was he +received at the other table between Elizabeth and Lydia. At first there +seemed danger of Lydia's engrossing him entirely, for she was a most +determined talker; but being likewise extremely fond of lottery tickets, +she soon grew too much interested in the game, too eager in making bets +and exclaiming after prizes to have attention for anyone in particular. +Allowing for the common demands of the game, Mr. Wickham was therefore +at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear +him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be +told--the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not +even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity, however, was unexpectedly +relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far +Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in +a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there. + +"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject +drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I +understand." + +"Yes," replied Mr. Wickham; "his estate there is a noble one. A clear +ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more +capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself, for +I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my +infancy." + +Elizabeth could not but look surprised. + +"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after +seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting +yesterday. Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?" + +"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth very warmly. "I have +spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very +disagreeable." + +"I have no right to give _my_ opinion," said Wickham, "as to his being +agreeable or otherwise. I am not qualified to form one. I have known him +too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible for _me_ +to be impartial. But I believe your opinion of him would in general +astonish--and perhaps you would not express it quite so strongly +anywhere else. Here you are in your own family." + +"Upon my word, I say no more _here_ than I might say in any house in +the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in +Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find +him more favourably spoken of by anyone." + +"I cannot pretend to be sorry," said Wickham, after a short +interruption, "that he or that any man should not be estimated beyond +their deserts; but with _him_ I believe it does not often happen. The +world is blinded by his fortune and consequence, or frightened by his +high and imposing manners, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen." + +"I should take him, even on _my_ slight acquaintance, to be an +ill-tempered man." Wickham only shook his head. + +"I wonder," said he, at the next opportunity of speaking, "whether he is +likely to be in this country much longer." + +"I do not at all know; but I _heard_ nothing of his going away when I +was at Netherfield. I hope your plans in favour of the ----shire will +not be affected by his being in the neighbourhood." + +"Oh! no--it is not for _me_ to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If _he_ +wishes to avoid seeing _me_, he must go. We are not on friendly terms, +and it always gives me pain to meet him, but I have no reason for +avoiding _him_ but what I might proclaim before all the world, a sense +of very great ill-usage, and most painful regrets at his being what he +is. His father, Miss Bennet, the late Mr. Darcy, was one of the best men +that ever breathed, and the truest friend I ever had; and I can never +be in company with this Mr. Darcy without being grieved to the soul by +a thousand tender recollections. His behaviour to myself has been +scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and +everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the +memory of his father." + +Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and listened with +all her heart; but the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry. + +Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the +neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that +he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter with gentle but very +intelligible gallantry. + +"It was the prospect of constant society, and good society," he added, +"which was my chief inducement to enter the ----shire. I knew it to be +a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me +further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great +attentions and excellent acquaintances Meryton had procured them. +Society, I own, is necessary to me. I have been a disappointed man, and +my spirits will not bear solitude. I _must_ have employment and society. +A military life is not what I was intended for, but circumstances have +now made it eligible. The church _ought_ to have been my profession--I +was brought up for the church, and I should at this time have been in +possession of a most valuable living, had it pleased the gentleman we +were speaking of just now." + +"Indeed!" + +"Yes--the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best +living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. +I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, +and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given +elsewhere." + +"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth; "but how could _that_ be? How could his +will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legal redress?" + +"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to +give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the +intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it--or to treat it as a merely +conditional recommendation, and to assert that I had forfeited all claim +to it by extravagance, imprudence--in short anything or nothing. Certain +it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was +of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man; and no +less certain is it, that I cannot accuse myself of having really done +anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and +I may have spoken my opinion _of_ him, and _to_ him, too freely. I can +recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort +of men, and that he hates me." + +"This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced." + +"Some time or other he _will_ be--but it shall not be by _me_. Till I +can forget his father, I can never defy or expose _him_." + +Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than +ever as he expressed them. + +"But what," said she, after a pause, "can have been his motive? What can +have induced him to behave so cruelly?" + +"A thorough, determined dislike of me--a dislike which I cannot but +attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me +less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon +attachment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in life. He had +not a temper to bear the sort of competition in which we stood--the sort +of preference which was often given me." + +"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this--though I have never liked +him. I had not thought so very ill of him. I had supposed him to be +despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of +descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as +this." + +After a few minutes' reflection, however, she continued, "I _do_ +remember his boasting one day, at Netherfield, of the implacability of +his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. His disposition +must be dreadful." + +"I will not trust myself on the subject," replied Wickham; "I can hardly +be just to him." + +Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, "To +treat in such a manner the godson, the friend, the favourite of his +father!" She could have added, "A young man, too, like _you_, whose very +countenance may vouch for your being amiable"--but she contented herself +with, "and one, too, who had probably been his companion from childhood, +connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!" + +"We were born in the same parish, within the same park; the greatest +part of our youth was passed together; inmates of the same house, +sharing the same amusements, objects of the same parental care. _My_ +father began life in the profession which your uncle, Mr. Phillips, +appears to do so much credit to--but he gave up everything to be of +use to the late Mr. Darcy and devoted all his time to the care of the +Pemberley property. He was most highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most +intimate, confidential friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to +be under the greatest obligations to my father's active superintendence, +and when, immediately before my father's death, Mr. Darcy gave him a +voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he felt it to +be as much a debt of gratitude to _him_, as of his affection to myself." + +"How strange!" cried Elizabeth. "How abominable! I wonder that the very +pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! If from no better +motive, that he should not have been too proud to be dishonest--for +dishonesty I must call it." + +"It _is_ wonderful," replied Wickham, "for almost all his actions may +be traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend. It has +connected him nearer with virtue than with any other feeling. But we are +none of us consistent, and in his behaviour to me there were stronger +impulses even than pride." + +"Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?" + +"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money +freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the +poor. Family pride, and _filial_ pride--for he is very proud of what +his father was--have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family, +to degenerate from the popular qualities, or lose the influence of the +Pemberley House, is a powerful motive. He has also _brotherly_ pride, +which, with _some_ brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and +careful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up +as the most attentive and best of brothers." + +"What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?" + +He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to +speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother--very, very +proud. As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond +of me; and I have devoted hours and hours to her amusement. But she is +nothing to me now. She is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, +and, I understand, highly accomplished. Since her father's death, her +home has been London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her +education." + +After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth could not +help reverting once more to the first, and saying: + +"I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr. Bingley, +who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe, truly amiable, +be in friendship with such a man? How can they suit each other? Do you +know Mr. Bingley?" + +"Not at all." + +"He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know what Mr. +Darcy is." + +"Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does not +want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he thinks it worth +his while. Among those who are at all his equals in consequence, he is +a very different man from what he is to the less prosperous. His +pride never deserts him; but with the rich he is liberal-minded, just, +sincere, rational, honourable, and perhaps agreeable--allowing something +for fortune and figure." + +The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round +the other table and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin +Elizabeth and Mrs. Phillips. The usual inquiries as to his success was +made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every +point; but when Mrs. Phillips began to express her concern thereupon, +he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least +importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged +that she would not make herself uneasy. + +"I know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit down to a +card-table, they must take their chances of these things, and happily I +am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There +are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady +Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding +little matters." + +Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for +a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation +was very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh. + +"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately given him +a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her +notice, but he certainly has not known her long." + +"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy +were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy." + +"No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's +connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before +yesterday." + +"Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is +believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates." + +This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor Miss +Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and useless her +affection for his sister and her praise of himself, if he were already +self-destined for another. + +"Mr. Collins," said she, "speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her +daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, +I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his +patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman." + +"I believe her to be both in a great degree," replied Wickham; "I have +not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked +her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the +reputation of being remarkably sensible and clever; but I rather believe +she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from +her authoritative manner, and the rest from the pride for her +nephew, who chooses that everyone connected with him should have an +understanding of the first class." + +Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, and +they continued talking together, with mutual satisfaction till supper +put an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. +Wickham's attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise +of Mrs. Phillips's supper party, but his manners recommended him to +everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done +gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could +think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all +the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name +as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. Lydia +talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the +fish she had won; and Mr. Collins in describing the civility of Mr. and +Mrs. Phillips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses +at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing +that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage +before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House. + + + +Chapter 17 + + +Elizabeth related to Jane the next day what had passed between Mr. +Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern; she +knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr. +Bingley's regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question the +veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham. The +possibility of his having endured such unkindness, was enough to +interest all her tender feelings; and nothing remained therefore to be +done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each, +and throw into the account of accident or mistake whatever could not be +otherwise explained. + +"They have both," said she, "been deceived, I dare say, in some way +or other, of which we can form no idea. Interested people have perhaps +misrepresented each to the other. It is, in short, impossible for us to +conjecture the causes or circumstances which may have alienated them, +without actual blame on either side." + +"Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Jane, what have you got to say on +behalf of the interested people who have probably been concerned in the +business? Do clear _them_ too, or we shall be obliged to think ill of +somebody." + +"Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my +opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a disgraceful light +it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father's favourite in such +a manner, one whom his father had promised to provide for. It is +impossible. No man of common humanity, no man who had any value for his +character, could be capable of it. Can his most intimate friends be so +excessively deceived in him? Oh! no." + +"I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being imposed on, than +that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself as he gave me +last night; names, facts, everything mentioned without ceremony. If it +be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth in his +looks." + +"It is difficult indeed--it is distressing. One does not know what to +think." + +"I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think." + +But Jane could think with certainty on only one point--that Mr. Bingley, +if he _had_ been imposed on, would have much to suffer when the affair +became public. + +The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery, where this +conversation passed, by the arrival of the very persons of whom they had +been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their personal +invitation for the long-expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed +for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see their +dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedly +asked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. To +the rest of the family they paid little attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet +as much as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to +the others. They were soon gone again, rising from their seats with an +activity which took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if +eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities. + +The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every +female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in +compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered +by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a +ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the +society of her two friends, and the attentions of her brother; and +Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr. +Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of everything in Mr. Darcy's look +and behavior. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended +less on any single event, or any particular person, for though they +each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, +he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball +was, at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family that she +had no disinclination for it. + +"While I can have my mornings to myself," said she, "it is enough--I +think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. +Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those +who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for +everybody." + +Elizabeth's spirits were so high on this occasion, that though she did +not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking +him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and if +he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening's +amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no +scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke +either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to +dance. + +"I am by no means of the opinion, I assure you," said he, "that a ball +of this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, +can have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing +myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair +cousins in the course of the evening; and I take this opportunity of +soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially, +a preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right +cause, and not to any disrespect for her." + +Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed being +engaged by Mr. Wickham for those very dances; and to have Mr. Collins +instead! her liveliness had never been worse timed. There was no help +for it, however. Mr. Wickham's happiness and her own were perforce +delayed a little longer, and Mr. Collins's proposal accepted with as +good a grace as she could. She was not the better pleased with his +gallantry from the idea it suggested of something more. It now first +struck her, that _she_ was selected from among her sisters as worthy +of being mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a +quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors. +The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing +civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a +compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than +gratified herself by this effect of her charms, it was not long before +her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage +was extremely agreeable to _her_. Elizabeth, however, did not choose +to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the +consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and +till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him. + +If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the +younger Miss Bennets would have been in a very pitiable state at this +time, for from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, there +was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton +once. No aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after--the very +shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy. Even Elizabeth might have +found some trial of her patience in weather which totally suspended the +improvement of her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than +a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and +Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia. + + + +Chapter 18 + + +Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and looked in +vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a +doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty +of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that +might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than +usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all +that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than +might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose +the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's +pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and though +this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was +pronounced by his friend Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who +told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the +day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, +"I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if +he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here." + +This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by +Elizabeth, and, as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable for +Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every +feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate +disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to +the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make. +Attendance, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. She +was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away +with a degree of ill-humour which she could not wholly surmount even in +speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her. + +But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect +of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her +spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had +not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition +to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular +notice. The first two dances, however, brought a return of distress; +they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, +apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being +aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable +partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from +him was ecstasy. + +She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of +Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances +were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with +her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy who took +her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, +without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again +immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of +mind; Charlotte tried to console her: + +"I dare say you will find him very agreeable." + +"Heaven forbid! _That_ would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find +a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an +evil." + +When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her +hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her in a whisper, not to be a +simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant +in the eyes of a man ten times his consequence. Elizabeth made no +answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which +she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and +reading in her neighbours' looks, their equal amazement in beholding +it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to +imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at +first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would +be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made +some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again +silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time +with:--"It is _your_ turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked +about the dance, and _you_ ought to make some sort of remark on the size +of the room, or the number of couples." + +He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be +said. + +"Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may +observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But +_now_ we may be silent." + +"Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?" + +"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be +entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of +_some_, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the +trouble of saying as little as possible." + +"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you +imagine that you are gratifying mine?" + +"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great +similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, +taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say +something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to +posterity with all the eclat of a proverb." + +"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," +said he. "How near it may be to _mine_, I cannot pretend to say. _You_ +think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly." + +"I must not decide on my own performance." + +He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down +the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often +walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist +the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just +been forming a new acquaintance." + +The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of _hauteur_ overspread his +features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself +for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a +constrained manner said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners +as may ensure his _making_ friends--whether he may be equally capable of +_retaining_ them, is less certain." + +"He has been so unlucky as to lose _your_ friendship," replied Elizabeth +with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all +his life." + +Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At +that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass +through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. +Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on +his dancing and his partner. + +"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very +superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the +first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not +disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, +especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza (glancing at +her sister and Bingley) shall take place. What congratulations will then +flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy:--but let me not interrupt you, sir. You +will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that +young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me." + +The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir +William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his +eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and +Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, +he turned to his partner, and said, "Sir William's interruption has made +me forget what we were talking of." + +"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have +interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. +We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we +are to talk of next I cannot imagine." + +"What think you of books?" said he, smiling. + +"Books--oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same +feelings." + +"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be +no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions." + +"No--I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of +something else." + +"The _present_ always occupies you in such scenes--does it?" said he, +with a look of doubt. + +"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her +thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared +by her suddenly exclaiming, "I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, +that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was +unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its _being +created_." + +"I am," said he, with a firm voice. + +"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?" + +"I hope not." + +"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, +to be secure of judging properly at first." + +"May I ask to what these questions tend?" + +"Merely to the illustration of _your_ character," said she, endeavouring +to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out." + +"And what is your success?" + +She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different +accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly." + +"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports may vary +greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were +not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to +fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either." + +"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another +opportunity." + +"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied. +She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in +silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, +for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards +her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against +another. + +They had not long separated, when Miss Bingley came towards her, and +with an expression of civil disdain accosted her: + +"So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham! +Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand +questions; and I find that the young man quite forgot to tell you, among +his other communication, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late +Mr. Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to +give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's +using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has +always been remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated +Mr. Darcy in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but +I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he +cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother +thought that he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to +the officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself +out of the way. His coming into the country at all is a most insolent +thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, +Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite's guilt; but really, +considering his descent, one could not expect much better." + +"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same," said +Elizabeth angrily; "for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse +than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of _that_, I can +assure you, he informed me himself." + +"I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer. +"Excuse my interference--it was kindly meant." + +"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself. "You are much mistaken +if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see +nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr. +Darcy." She then sought her eldest sister, who has undertaken to make +inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of +such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently +marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. +Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for +Wickham, resentment against his enemies, and everything else, gave way +before the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness. + +"I want to know," said she, with a countenance no less smiling than her +sister's, "what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps you have +been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person; in which case +you may be sure of my pardon." + +"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing +satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of +his history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have +principally offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, +the probity, and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that +Mr. Wickham has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has +received; and I am sorry to say by his account as well as his sister's, +Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has +been very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard." + +"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?" + +"No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton." + +"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am +satisfied. But what does he say of the living?" + +"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard +them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left to +him _conditionally_ only." + +"I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabeth warmly; +"but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only. Mr. +Bingley's defense of his friend was a very able one, I dare say; but +since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has learnt +the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture to still think of +both gentlemen as I did before." + +She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on +which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with +delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr. +Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence +in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew +to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last +partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them, +and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as +to make a most important discovery. + +"I have found out," said he, "by a singular accident, that there is now +in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the +gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of +the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady +Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have +thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of Lady Catherine de +Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made +in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to +do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total +ignorance of the connection must plead my apology." + +"You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!" + +"Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. +I believe him to be Lady Catherine's _nephew_. It will be in my power to +assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'nnight." + +Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him +that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction +as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that +it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either +side; and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in +consequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr. Collins listened to her +with the determined air of following his own inclination, and, when she +ceased speaking, replied thus: + +"My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in +your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your +understanding; but permit me to say, that there must be a wide +difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, +and those which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that +I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with +the highest rank in the kingdom--provided that a proper humility of +behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to +follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to +perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to +profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant +guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by +education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young +lady like yourself." And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. +Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose +astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced +his speech with a solemn bow and though she could not hear a word of +it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the +words "apology," "Hunsford," and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh." It vexed +her to see him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him +with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time +to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, +was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed +abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the +end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr. +Collins then returned to Elizabeth. + +"I have no reason, I assure you," said he, "to be dissatisfied with my +reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered +me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying +that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment as to be +certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very +handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him." + +As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned +her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley; and the +train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to, +made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her in idea settled in +that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection +could bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of +endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters. Her mother's thoughts +she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to +venture near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to +supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which +placed them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find +that her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, +openly, and of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon +be married to Mr. Bingley. It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet +seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the +match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but +three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and +then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of +Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as +she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger +daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of +other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be +able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that +she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was +necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on +such occasions it is the etiquette; but no one was less likely than Mrs. +Bennet to find comfort in staying home at any period of her life. She +concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally +fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no +chance of it. + +In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's +words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible +whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the +chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her +mother only scolded her for being nonsensical. + +"What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am +sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say +nothing _he_ may not like to hear." + +"For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you +to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by +so doing!" + +Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would +talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and +blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently +glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what +she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was +convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression +of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and +steady gravity. + +At length, however, Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who +had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no +likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and +chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of +tranquillity; for, when supper was over, singing was talked of, and +she had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, +preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent +entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance, +but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an opportunity of +exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song. Elizabeth's +eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations, and she watched her +progress through the several stanzas with an impatience which was very +ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving, amongst the thanks +of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to +favour them again, after the pause of half a minute began another. +Mary's powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was +weak, and her manner affected. Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked at +Jane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly talking to +Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making signs +of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued, however, +imperturbably grave. She looked at her father to entreat his +interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint, +and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, "That will do +extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other +young ladies have time to exhibit." + +Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and +Elizabeth, sorry for her, and sorry for her father's speech, was afraid +her anxiety had done no good. Others of the party were now applied to. + +"If I," said Mr. Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I +should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an +air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly +compatible with the profession of a clergyman. I do not mean, however, +to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time +to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The +rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make +such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not +offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time +that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care +and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making +as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance +that he should have attentive and conciliatory manner towards everybody, +especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit +him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an +occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with the +family." And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech, which had +been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. Many stared--many +smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his +wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly, +and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably +clever, good kind of young man. + +To Elizabeth it appeared that, had her family made an agreement to +expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would +have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or +finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister +that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his +feelings were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he +must have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should +have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations, was bad enough, +and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the +gentleman, or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable. + +The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teased by +Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though +he could not prevail on her to dance with him again, put it out of her +power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with +somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room. +He assured her, that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it; +that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to +her and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her +the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed +her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and +good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself. + +She was at least free from the offense of Mr. Darcy's further notice; +though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite +disengaged, he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the +probable consequence of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in +it. + +The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by +a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of +an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how +heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her +sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and +were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed +every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing threw a +languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the +long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his +sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and +politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said +nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene. +Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the +rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as steady a +silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia was too +much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of "Lord, +how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn. + +When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly +civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn, and +addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he +would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without +the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, +and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on +her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next +day for a short time. + +Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the +delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of +settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly +see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four +months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought +with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. +Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the +man and the match were quite good enough for _her_, the worth of each +was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield. + + + +Chapter 19 + + +The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his +declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as +his leave of absence extended only to the following Saturday, and having +no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at +the moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the +observances, which he supposed a regular part of the business. On +finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, +soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words: + +"May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth, +when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the +course of this morning?" + +Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. +Bennet answered instantly, "Oh dear!--yes--certainly. I am sure Lizzy +will be very happy--I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I +want you upstairs." And, gathering her work together, she was hastening +away, when Elizabeth called out: + +"Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse +me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am +going away myself." + +"No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you to stay where you are." And upon +Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about to +escape, she added: "Lizzy, I _insist_ upon your staying and hearing Mr. +Collins." + +Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction--and a moment's +consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get it +over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again and tried to +conceal, by incessant employment the feelings which were divided between +distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as soon as +they were gone, Mr. Collins began. + +"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from +doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You +would have been less amiable in my eyes had there _not_ been this little +unwillingness; but allow me to assure you, that I have your respected +mother's permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the +purport of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to +dissemble; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as +soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of +my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this +subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for +marrying--and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design +of selecting a wife, as I certainly did." + +The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away +with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing, that she could +not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him further, +and he continued: + +"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for +every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example +of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will +add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly--which perhaps I ought +to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and +recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling +patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked +too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I +left Hunsford--between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was +arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you +must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose +a gentlewoman for _my_ sake; and for your _own_, let her be an active, +useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small +income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as +you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her.' Allow me, by the +way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice +and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the +advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond +anything I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be +acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and +respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general +intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views +were directed towards Longbourn instead of my own neighbourhood, where I +can assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that +being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured +father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy +myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that +the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy +event takes place--which, however, as I have already said, may not +be for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and +I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing +remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the +violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and +shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well +aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds +in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's +decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, +therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that +no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married." + +It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now. + +"You are too hasty, sir," she cried. "You forget that I have made no +answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for +the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honour of +your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than to +decline them." + +"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the +hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the +man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their +favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a +third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just +said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long." + +"Upon my word, sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is a rather +extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not +one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so +daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second +time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make _me_ +happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who +could make you so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I +am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the +situation." + +"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so," said Mr. Collins +very gravely--"but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all +disapprove of you. And you may be certain when I have the honour of +seeing her again, I shall speak in the very highest terms of your +modesty, economy, and other amiable qualification." + +"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You +must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment +of believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by +refusing your hand, do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise. +In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your +feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn +estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may +be considered, therefore, as finally settled." And rising as she +thus spoke, she would have quitted the room, had Mr. Collins not thus +addressed her: + +"When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on the subject, I +shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given +me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I +know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on +the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to +encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the +female character." + +"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth with some warmth, "you puzzle me +exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form +of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as +to convince you of its being one." + +"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your +refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for +believing it are briefly these: It does not appear to me that my hand is +unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would +be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections +with the family of de Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are +circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into further +consideration, that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no +means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your +portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo +the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must +therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, +I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by +suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females." + +"I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind +of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would +rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you +again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but +to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect +forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant +female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking +the truth from her heart." + +"You are uniformly charming!" cried he, with an air of awkward +gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express +authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of +being acceptable." + +To such perseverance in wilful self-deception Elizabeth would make +no reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, if +he persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering +encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be uttered +in such a manner as to be decisive, and whose behavior at least could +not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female. + + + +Chapter 20 + + +Mr. Collins was not left long to the silent contemplation of his +successful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule +to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open +the door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she +entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herself in +warm terms on the happy prospect or their nearer connection. Mr. Collins +received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then +proceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the result +of which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the +refusal which his cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow +from her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character. + +This information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet; she would have been +glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encourage +him by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not believe it, +and could not help saying so. + +"But, depend upon it, Mr. Collins," she added, "that Lizzy shall be +brought to reason. I will speak to her about it directly. She is a very +headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest but I will +_make_ her know it." + +"Pardon me for interrupting you, madam," cried Mr. Collins; "but if +she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would +altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who +naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she +actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not +to force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects of +temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity." + +"Sir, you quite misunderstand me," said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. "Lizzy is +only headstrong in such matters as these. In everything else she is as +good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and +we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure." + +She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her +husband, called out as she entered the library, "Oh! Mr. Bennet, you +are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. You must come and make +Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will not have him, and if you +do not make haste he will change his mind and not have _her_." + +Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them +on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered by +her communication. + +"I have not the pleasure of understanding you," said he, when she had +finished her speech. "Of what are you talking?" + +"Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins, +and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy." + +"And what am I to do on the occasion? It seems an hopeless business." + +"Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her +marrying him." + +"Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion." + +Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the +library. + +"Come here, child," cried her father as she appeared. "I have sent for +you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made +you an offer of marriage. Is it true?" Elizabeth replied that it was. +"Very well--and this offer of marriage you have refused?" + +"I have, sir." + +"Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your +accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?" + +"Yes, or I will never see her again." + +"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must +be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you +again if you do _not_ marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again +if you _do_." + +Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning, +but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her husband regarded the +affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed. + +"What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, in talking this way? You promised me to +_insist_ upon her marrying him." + +"My dear," replied her husband, "I have two small favours to request. +First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the +present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the +library to myself as soon as may be." + +Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, did +Mrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to Elizabeth again and again; +coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavoured to secure Jane +in her interest; but Jane, with all possible mildness, declined +interfering; and Elizabeth, sometimes with real earnestness, and +sometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her attacks. Though her manner +varied, however, her determination never did. + +Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed. +He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motives his cousin +could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other +way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her +deserving her mother's reproach prevented his feeling any regret. + +While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend +the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying to +her, cried in a half whisper, "I am glad you are come, for there is such +fun here! What do you think has happened this morning? Mr. Collins has +made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him." + +Charlotte hardly had time to answer, before they were joined by Kitty, +who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they entered the +breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began on +the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating +her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of all her +family. "Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas," she added in a melancholy tone, +"for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me. I am cruelly used, +nobody feels for my poor nerves." + +Charlotte's reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth. + +"Aye, there she comes," continued Mrs. Bennet, "looking as unconcerned +as may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at York, provided +she can have her own way. But I tell you, Miss Lizzy--if you take it +into your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way, +you will never get a husband at all--and I am sure I do not know who is +to maintain you when your father is dead. I shall not be able to keep +you--and so I warn you. I have done with you from this very day. I told +you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you again, +and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in talking +to undutiful children. Not that I have much pleasure, indeed, in talking +to anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have +no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it +is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied." + +Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that +any attempt to reason with her or soothe her would only increase the +irritation. She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of +them, till they were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered the room with +an air more stately than usual, and on perceiving whom, she said to +the girls, "Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold +your tongues, and let me and Mr. Collins have a little conversation +together." + +Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed, but +Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte, +detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose inquiries after +herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little +curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending +not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet began the projected +conversation: "Oh! Mr. Collins!" + +"My dear madam," replied he, "let us be for ever silent on this point. +Far be it from me," he presently continued, in a voice that marked his +displeasure, "to resent the behaviour of your daughter. Resignation +to inevitable evils is the evil duty of us all; the peculiar duty of a +young man who has been so fortunate as I have been in early preferment; +and I trust I am resigned. Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt +of my positive happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her hand; +for I have often observed that resignation is never so perfect as +when the blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our +estimation. You will not, I hope, consider me as showing any disrespect +to your family, my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to +your daughter's favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the +compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in my +behalf. My conduct may, I fear, be objectionable in having accepted my +dismission from your daughter's lips instead of your own. But we are all +liable to error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair. +My object has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due +consideration for the advantage of all your family, and if my _manner_ +has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologise." + + + +Chapter 21 + + +The discussion of Mr. Collins's offer was now nearly at an end, and +Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily +attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusions of her +mother. As for the gentleman himself, _his_ feelings were chiefly +expressed, not by embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, +but by stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke +to her, and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of +himself were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss Lucas, whose +civility in listening to him was a seasonable relief to them all, and +especially to her friend. + +The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet's ill-humour or ill +health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth +had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did +not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on +Saturday, and to Saturday he meant to stay. + +After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton to inquire if Mr. Wickham +were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield ball. +He joined them on their entering the town, and attended them to their +aunt's where his regret and vexation, and the concern of everybody, was +well talked over. To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged +that the necessity of his absence _had_ been self-imposed. + +"I found," said he, "as the time drew near that I had better not meet +Mr. Darcy; that to be in the same room, the same party with him for so +many hours together, might be more than I could bear, and that scenes +might arise unpleasant to more than myself." + +She highly approved his forbearance, and they had leisure for a full +discussion of it, and for all the commendation which they civilly +bestowed on each other, as Wickham and another officer walked back with +them to Longbourn, and during the walk he particularly attended to +her. His accompanying them was a double advantage; she felt all the +compliment it offered to herself, and it was most acceptable as an +occasion of introducing him to her father and mother. + +Soon after their return, a letter was delivered to Miss Bennet; it came +from Netherfield. The envelope contained a sheet of elegant, little, +hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady's fair, flowing hand; and +Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as she read it, and saw +her dwelling intently on some particular passages. Jane recollected +herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to join with her usual +cheerfulness in the general conversation; but Elizabeth felt an anxiety +on the subject which drew off her attention even from Wickham; and no +sooner had he and his companion taken leave, than a glance from Jane +invited her to follow her upstairs. When they had gained their own room, +Jane, taking out the letter, said: + +"This is from Caroline Bingley; what it contains has surprised me a good +deal. The whole party have left Netherfield by this time, and are on +their way to town--and without any intention of coming back again. You +shall hear what she says." + +She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information +of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town directly, +and of their meaning to dine in Grosvenor Street, where Mr. Hurst had a +house. The next was in these words: "I do not pretend to regret anything +I shall leave in Hertfordshire, except your society, my dearest friend; +but we will hope, at some future period, to enjoy many returns of that +delightful intercourse we have known, and in the meanwhile may +lessen the pain of separation by a very frequent and most unreserved +correspondence. I depend on you for that." To these highflown +expressions Elizabeth listened with all the insensibility of distrust; +and though the suddenness of their removal surprised her, she saw +nothing in it really to lament; it was not to be supposed that their +absence from Netherfield would prevent Mr. Bingley's being there; and as +to the loss of their society, she was persuaded that Jane must cease to +regard it, in the enjoyment of his. + +"It is unlucky," said she, after a short pause, "that you should not be +able to see your friends before they leave the country. But may we not +hope that the period of future happiness to which Miss Bingley looks +forward may arrive earlier than she is aware, and that the delightful +intercourse you have known as friends will be renewed with yet greater +satisfaction as sisters? Mr. Bingley will not be detained in London by +them." + +"Caroline decidedly says that none of the party will return into +Hertfordshire this winter. I will read it to you:" + +"When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which +took him to London might be concluded in three or four days; but as we +are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when +Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have +determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend +his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintances are +already there for the winter; I wish that I could hear that you, my +dearest friend, had any intention of making one of the crowd--but of +that I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may +abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your +beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the +three of whom we shall deprive you." + +"It is evident by this," added Jane, "that he comes back no more this +winter." + +"It is only evident that Miss Bingley does not mean that he _should_." + +"Why will you think so? It must be his own doing. He is his own +master. But you do not know _all_. I _will_ read you the passage which +particularly hurts me. I will have no reserves from _you_." + +"Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister; and, to confess the truth, +_we_ are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think +Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; +and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into +something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of +her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before +mentioned to you my feelings on this subject; but I will not leave the +country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them +unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already; he will have +frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing; +her relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a sister's +partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most +capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to +favour an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest +Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness +of so many?" + +"What do you think of _this_ sentence, my dear Lizzy?" said Jane as she +finished it. "Is it not clear enough? Does it not expressly declare that +Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister; that she is +perfectly convinced of her brother's indifference; and that if she +suspects the nature of my feelings for him, she means (most kindly!) to +put me on my guard? Can there be any other opinion on the subject?" + +"Yes, there can; for mine is totally different. Will you hear it?" + +"Most willingly." + +"You shall have it in a few words. Miss Bingley sees that her brother is +in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him +to town in hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he +does not care about you." + +Jane shook her head. + +"Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. No one who has ever seen you +together can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot. She +is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr. +Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But the +case is this: We are not rich enough or grand enough for them; and she +is the more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion +that when there has been _one_ intermarriage, she may have less trouble +in achieving a second; in which there is certainly some ingenuity, and +I dare say it would succeed, if Miss de Bourgh were out of the way. But, +my dearest Jane, you cannot seriously imagine that because Miss Bingley +tells you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy, he is in the smallest +degree less sensible of _your_ merit than when he took leave of you on +Tuesday, or that it will be in her power to persuade him that, instead +of being in love with you, he is very much in love with her friend." + +"If we thought alike of Miss Bingley," replied Jane, "your +representation of all this might make me quite easy. But I know the +foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving +anyone; and all that I can hope in this case is that she is deceiving +herself." + +"That is right. You could not have started a more happy idea, since you +will not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived, by all means. +You have now done your duty by her, and must fret no longer." + +"But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in +accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry +elsewhere?" + +"You must decide for yourself," said Elizabeth; "and if, upon mature +deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters is +more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, I advise you by +all means to refuse him." + +"How can you talk so?" said Jane, faintly smiling. "You must know that +though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I could +not hesitate." + +"I did not think you would; and that being the case, I cannot consider +your situation with much compassion." + +"But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be +required. A thousand things may arise in six months!" + +The idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with the utmost +contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Caroline's +interested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that those +wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man +so totally independent of everyone. + +She represented to her sister as forcibly as possible what she felt +on the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect. +Jane's temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope, +though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that +Bingley would return to Netherfield and answer every wish of her heart. + +They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of the +family, without being alarmed on the score of the gentleman's conduct; +but even this partial communication gave her a great deal of concern, +and she bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen +to go away just as they were all getting so intimate together. After +lamenting it, however, at some length, she had the consolation that Mr. +Bingley would be soon down again and soon dining at Longbourn, and the +conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration, that though he had +been invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have two +full courses. + + + +Chapter 22 + + +The Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases and again during the +chief of the day was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins. +Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her. "It keeps him in good +humour," said she, "and I am more obliged to you than I can express." +Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, and +that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. This was +very amiable, but Charlotte's kindness extended farther than Elizabeth +had any conception of; its object was nothing else than to secure her +from any return of Mr. Collins's addresses, by engaging them towards +herself. Such was Miss Lucas's scheme; and appearances were so +favourable, that when they parted at night, she would have felt almost +secure of success if he had not been to leave Hertfordshire so very +soon. But here she did injustice to the fire and independence of his +character, for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next +morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw +himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of his cousins, +from a conviction that if they saw him depart, they could not fail to +conjecture his design, and he was not willing to have the attempt known +till its success might be known likewise; for though feeling almost +secure, and with reason, for Charlotte had been tolerably encouraging, +he was comparatively diffident since the adventure of Wednesday. +His reception, however, was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas +perceived him from an upper window as he walked towards the house, and +instantly set out to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had +she dared to hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her there. + +In as short a time as Mr. Collins's long speeches would allow, +everything was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and as +they entered the house he earnestly entreated her to name the day that +was to make him the happiest of men; and though such a solicitation must +be waived for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with +his happiness. The stupidity with which he was favoured by nature must +guard his courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for its +continuance; and Miss Lucas, who accepted him solely from the pure +and disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that +establishment were gained. + +Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their consent; +and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins's present +circumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom +they could give little fortune; and his prospects of future wealth were +exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate, with more +interest than the matter had ever excited before, how many years longer +Mr. Bennet was likely to live; and Sir William gave it as his decided +opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins should be in possession of the +Longbourn estate, it would be highly expedient that both he and his wife +should make their appearance at St. James's. The whole family, in short, +were properly overjoyed on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes +of _coming out_ a year or two sooner than they might otherwise have +done; and the boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte's +dying an old maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had +gained her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were +in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible +nor agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must +be imaginary. But still he would be her husband. Without thinking highly +either of men or matrimony, marriage had always been her object; it was +the only provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, +and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest +preservative from want. This preservative she had now obtained; and at +the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt all +the good luck of it. The least agreeable circumstance in the business +was the surprise it must occasion to Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship +she valued beyond that of any other person. Elizabeth would wonder, +and probably would blame her; and though her resolution was not to be +shaken, her feelings must be hurt by such a disapprobation. She resolved +to give her the information herself, and therefore charged Mr. Collins, +when he returned to Longbourn to dinner, to drop no hint of what had +passed before any of the family. A promise of secrecy was of course very +dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the +curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct +questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was +at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to +publish his prosperous love. + +As he was to begin his journey too early on the morrow to see any of the +family, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed when the ladies moved +for the night; and Mrs. Bennet, with great politeness and cordiality, +said how happy they should be to see him at Longbourn again, whenever +his engagements might allow him to visit them. + +"My dear madam," he replied, "this invitation is particularly +gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive; and +you may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as +possible." + +They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish for +so speedy a return, immediately said: + +"But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's disapprobation here, my +good sir? You had better neglect your relations than run the risk of +offending your patroness." + +"My dear sir," replied Mr. Collins, "I am particularly obliged to you +for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so +material a step without her ladyship's concurrence." + +"You cannot be too much upon your guard. Risk anything rather than her +displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us +again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home, +and be satisfied that _we_ shall take no offence." + +"Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited by such +affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily receive +from me a letter of thanks for this, and for every other mark of your +regard during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, though +my absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall now +take the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting my +cousin Elizabeth." + +With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally +surprised that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished to +understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of her +younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him. +She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was +a solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no +means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read +and improve himself by such an example as hers, he might become a very +agreeable companion. But on the following morning, every hope of this +kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a +private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before. + +The possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself in love with her +friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two; but +that Charlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far from +possibility as she could encourage him herself, and her astonishment was +consequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and +she could not help crying out: + +"Engaged to Mr. Collins! My dear Charlotte--impossible!" + +The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her +story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a +reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon regained +her composure, and calmly replied: + +"Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? Do you think it incredible +that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman's good opinion, +because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?" + +But Elizabeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong effort +for it, was able to assure with tolerable firmness that the prospect of +their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished her +all imaginable happiness. + +"I see what you are feeling," replied Charlotte. "You must be surprised, +very much surprised--so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry +you. But when you have had time to think it over, I hope you will be +satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know; I never +was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins's +character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my +chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on +entering the marriage state." + +Elizabeth quietly answered "Undoubtedly;" and after an awkward pause, +they returned to the rest of the family. Charlotte did not stay much +longer, and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard. +It was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so +unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins's making two offers +of marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now +accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte's opinion of matrimony was +not exactly like her own, but she had not supposed it to be possible +that, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every better +feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins was a +most humiliating picture! And to the pang of a friend disgracing herself +and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that it +was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had +chosen. + + + +Chapter 23 + + +Elizabeth was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on what +she had heard, and doubting whether she was authorised to mention +it, when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by his daughter, to +announce her engagement to the family. With many compliments to them, +and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the +houses, he unfolded the matter--to an audience not merely wondering, but +incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than politeness, +protested he must be entirely mistaken; and Lydia, always unguarded and +often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed: + +"Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story? Do not you know +that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?" + +Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne +without anger such treatment; but Sir William's good breeding carried +him through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the +truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the +most forbearing courtesy. + +Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant +a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by +mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte herself; and +endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of her mother and sisters +by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir William, in which she +was readily joined by Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the +happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character +of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London. + +Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal while +Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelings +found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving +the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Collins +had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they would never be +happy together; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two +inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole: one, that +Elizabeth was the real cause of the mischief; and the other that she +herself had been barbarously misused by them all; and on these two +points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could +console and nothing could appease her. Nor did that day wear out her +resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Elizabeth without +scolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to Sir William +or Lady Lucas without being rude, and many months were gone before she +could at all forgive their daughter. + +Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such +as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; for +it gratified him, he said, to discover that Charlotte Lucas, whom he had +been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife, and +more foolish than his daughter! + +Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said +less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness; +nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty +and Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a +clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news +to spread at Meryton. + +Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retort +on Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well married; and she +called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was, +though Mrs. Bennet's sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been +enough to drive happiness away. + +Between Elizabeth and Charlotte there was a restraint which kept them +mutually silent on the subject; and Elizabeth felt persuaded that +no real confidence could ever subsist between them again. Her +disappointment in Charlotte made her turn with fonder regard to her +sister, of whose rectitude and delicacy she was sure her opinion could +never be shaken, and for whose happiness she grew daily more anxious, +as Bingley had now been gone a week and nothing more was heard of his +return. + +Jane had sent Caroline an early answer to her letter, and was counting +the days till she might reasonably hope to hear again. The promised +letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrived on Tuesday, addressed to +their father, and written with all the solemnity of gratitude which a +twelvemonth's abode in the family might have prompted. After discharging +his conscience on that head, he proceeded to inform them, with many +rapturous expressions, of his happiness in having obtained the affection +of their amiable neighbour, Miss Lucas, and then explained that it was +merely with the view of enjoying her society that he had been so ready +to close with their kind wish of seeing him again at Longbourn, whither +he hoped to be able to return on Monday fortnight; for Lady Catherine, +he added, so heartily approved his marriage, that she wished it to take +place as soon as possible, which he trusted would be an unanswerable +argument with his amiable Charlotte to name an early day for making him +the happiest of men. + +Mr. Collins's return into Hertfordshire was no longer a matter of +pleasure to Mrs. Bennet. On the contrary, she was as much disposed to +complain of it as her husband. It was very strange that he should come +to Longbourn instead of to Lucas Lodge; it was also very inconvenient +and exceedingly troublesome. She hated having visitors in the house +while her health was so indifferent, and lovers were of all people the +most disagreeable. Such were the gentle murmurs of Mrs. Bennet, and +they gave way only to the greater distress of Mr. Bingley's continued +absence. + +Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were comfortable on this subject. Day after +day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the +report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to +Netherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs. +Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous +falsehood. + +Even Elizabeth began to fear--not that Bingley was indifferent--but that +his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as +she was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane's happiness, and so +dishonorable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its +frequently occurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters +and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss +Darcy and the amusements of London might be too much, she feared, for +the strength of his attachment. + +As for Jane, _her_ anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more +painful than Elizabeth's, but whatever she felt she was desirous of +concealing, and between herself and Elizabeth, therefore, the subject +was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother, +an hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express her +impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he +did not come back she would think herself very ill used. It needed +all Jane's steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable +tranquillity. + +Mr. Collins returned most punctually on Monday fortnight, but his +reception at Longbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on his +first introduction. He was too happy, however, to need much attention; +and luckily for the others, the business of love-making relieved them +from a great deal of his company. The chief of every day was spent by +him at Lucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned to Longbourn only in time +to make an apology for his absence before the family went to bed. + +Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of +anything concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill-humour, +and wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The sight +of Miss Lucas was odious to her. As her successor in that house, she +regarded her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte came to see +them, she concluded her to be anticipating the hour of possession; and +whenever she spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins, was convinced that +they were talking of the Longbourn estate, and resolving to turn herself +and her daughters out of the house, as soon as Mr. Bennet were dead. She +complained bitterly of all this to her husband. + +"Indeed, Mr. Bennet," said she, "it is very hard to think that Charlotte +Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that I should be forced to +make way for _her_, and live to see her take her place in it!" + +"My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for +better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor." + +This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet, and therefore, instead of +making any answer, she went on as before. + +"I cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate. If it was +not for the entail, I should not mind it." + +"What should not you mind?" + +"I should not mind anything at all." + +"Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such +insensibility." + +"I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for anything about the entail. How +anyone could have the conscience to entail away an estate from one's own +daughters, I cannot understand; and all for the sake of Mr. Collins too! +Why should _he_ have it more than anybody else?" + +"I leave it to yourself to determine," said Mr. Bennet. + + + +Chapter 24 + + +Miss Bingley's letter arrived, and put an end to doubt. The very first +sentence conveyed the assurance of their being all settled in London for +the winter, and concluded with her brother's regret at not having had +time to pay his respects to his friends in Hertfordshire before he left +the country. + +Hope was over, entirely over; and when Jane could attend to the rest +of the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the +writer, that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy's praise occupied +the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on, and Caroline +boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict +the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former +letter. She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother's being an +inmate of Mr. Darcy's house, and mentioned with raptures some plans of +the latter with regard to new furniture. + +Elizabeth, to whom Jane very soon communicated the chief of all this, +heard it in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern +for her sister, and resentment against all others. To Caroline's +assertion of her brother's being partial to Miss Darcy she paid no +credit. That he was really fond of Jane, she doubted no more than she +had ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, she +could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness +of temper, that want of proper resolution, which now made him the slave +of his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice of his own happiness +to the caprice of their inclination. Had his own happiness, however, +been the only sacrifice, he might have been allowed to sport with it in +whatever manner he thought best, but her sister's was involved in it, as +she thought he must be sensible himself. It was a subject, in short, +on which reflection would be long indulged, and must be unavailing. She +could think of nothing else; and yet whether Bingley's regard had really +died away, or were suppressed by his friends' interference; whether +he had been aware of Jane's attachment, or whether it had escaped his +observation; whatever were the case, though her opinion of him must be +materially affected by the difference, her sister's situation remained +the same, her peace equally wounded. + +A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings to +Elizabeth; but at last, on Mrs. Bennet's leaving them together, after a +longer irritation than usual about Netherfield and its master, she could +not help saying: + +"Oh, that my dear mother had more command over herself! She can have no +idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But +I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall +all be as we were before." + +Elizabeth looked at her sister with incredulous solicitude, but said +nothing. + +"You doubt me," cried Jane, slightly colouring; "indeed, you have +no reason. He may live in my memory as the most amiable man of my +acquaintance, but that is all. I have nothing either to hope or fear, +and nothing to reproach him with. Thank God! I have not _that_ pain. A +little time, therefore--I shall certainly try to get the better." + +With a stronger voice she soon added, "I have this comfort immediately, +that it has not been more than an error of fancy on my side, and that it +has done no harm to anyone but myself." + +"My dear Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "you are too good. Your sweetness +and disinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say +to you. I feel as if I had never done you justice, or loved you as you +deserve." + +Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit, and threw back +the praise on her sister's warm affection. + +"Nay," said Elizabeth, "this is not fair. _You_ wish to think all the +world respectable, and are hurt if I speak ill of anybody. I only want +to think _you_ perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not +be afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your +privilege of universal good-will. You need not. There are few people +whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see +of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms +my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the +little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or +sense. I have met with two instances lately, one I will not mention; the +other is Charlotte's marriage. It is unaccountable! In every view it is +unaccountable!" + +"My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will +ruin your happiness. You do not make allowance enough for difference +of situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins's respectability, and +Charlotte's steady, prudent character. Remember that she is one of a +large family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be +ready to believe, for everybody's sake, that she may feel something like +regard and esteem for our cousin." + +"To oblige you, I would try to believe almost anything, but no one else +could be benefited by such a belief as this; for were I persuaded that +Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only think worse of her +understanding than I now do of her heart. My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is a +conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well as +I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who married him +cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend her, though +it is Charlotte Lucas. You shall not, for the sake of one individual, +change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor endeavour to persuade +yourself or me, that selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of +danger security for happiness." + +"I must think your language too strong in speaking of both," replied +Jane; "and I hope you will be convinced of it by seeing them happy +together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You +mentioned _two_ instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat +you, dear Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking _that person_ to blame, and +saying your opinion of him is sunk. We must not be so ready to fancy +ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively young man +to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but +our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than +it does." + +"And men take care that they should." + +"If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have no idea +of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine." + +"I am far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley's conduct to design," +said Elizabeth; "but without scheming to do wrong, or to make others +unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, +want of attention to other people's feelings, and want of resolution, +will do the business." + +"And do you impute it to either of those?" + +"Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying what +I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can." + +"You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him?" + +"Yes, in conjunction with his friend." + +"I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him? They can +only wish his happiness; and if he is attached to me, no other woman can +secure it." + +"Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his +happiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they +may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great +connections, and pride." + +"Beyond a doubt, they _do_ wish him to choose Miss Darcy," replied Jane; +"but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They have +known her much longer than they have known me; no wonder if they love +her better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely +they should have opposed their brother's. What sister would think +herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very +objectionable? If they believed him attached to me, they would not try +to part us; if he were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such an +affection, you make everybody acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most +unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been +mistaken--or, at least, it is light, it is nothing in comparison of what +I should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me take it in +the best light, in the light in which it may be understood." + +Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish; and from this time Mr. Bingley's +name was scarcely ever mentioned between them. + +Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at his returning no +more, and though a day seldom passed in which Elizabeth did not account +for it clearly, there was little chance of her ever considering it with +less perplexity. Her daughter endeavoured to convince her of what she +did not believe herself, that his attentions to Jane had been merely the +effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw her +no more; but though the probability of the statement was admitted at +the time, she had the same story to repeat every day. Mrs. Bennet's best +comfort was that Mr. Bingley must be down again in the summer. + +Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently. "So, Lizzy," said he one day, +"your sister is crossed in love, I find. I congratulate her. Next to +being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. +It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction +among her companions. When is your turn to come? You will hardly bear to +be long outdone by Jane. Now is your time. Here are officers enough in +Meryton to disappoint all the young ladies in the country. Let Wickham +be _your_ man. He is a pleasant fellow, and would jilt you creditably." + +"Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfy me. We must not +all expect Jane's good fortune." + +"True," said Mr. Bennet, "but it is a comfort to think that whatever of +that kind may befall you, you have an affectionate mother who will make +the most of it." + +Mr. Wickham's society was of material service in dispelling the gloom +which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn +family. They saw him often, and to his other recommendations was now +added that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had already +heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him, +was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed; and everybody was +pleased to know how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they +had known anything of the matter. + +Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be +any extenuating circumstances in the case, unknown to the society +of Hertfordshire; her mild and steady candour always pleaded for +allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes--but by everybody else +Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men. + + + +Chapter 25 + + +After a week spent in professions of love and schemes of felicity, +Mr. Collins was called from his amiable Charlotte by the arrival of +Saturday. The pain of separation, however, might be alleviated on his +side, by preparations for the reception of his bride; as he had reason +to hope, that shortly after his return into Hertfordshire, the day would +be fixed that was to make him the happiest of men. He took leave of his +relations at Longbourn with as much solemnity as before; wished his fair +cousins health and happiness again, and promised their father another +letter of thanks. + +On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving +her brother and his wife, who came as usual to spend the Christmas +at Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner was a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly +superior to his sister, as well by nature as education. The Netherfield +ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived +by trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so +well-bred and agreeable. Mrs. Gardiner, who was several years younger +than Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips, was an amiable, intelligent, elegant +woman, and a great favourite with all her Longbourn nieces. Between the +two eldest and herself especially, there subsisted a particular regard. +They had frequently been staying with her in town. + +The first part of Mrs. Gardiner's business on her arrival was to +distribute her presents and describe the newest fashions. When this was +done she had a less active part to play. It became her turn to listen. +Mrs. Bennet had many grievances to relate, and much to complain of. They +had all been very ill-used since she last saw her sister. Two of her +girls had been upon the point of marriage, and after all there was +nothing in it. + +"I do not blame Jane," she continued, "for Jane would have got Mr. +Bingley if she could. But Lizzy! Oh, sister! It is very hard to think +that she might have been Mr. Collins's wife by this time, had it not +been for her own perverseness. He made her an offer in this very room, +and she refused him. The consequence of it is, that Lady Lucas will have +a daughter married before I have, and that the Longbourn estate is just +as much entailed as ever. The Lucases are very artful people indeed, +sister. They are all for what they can get. I am sorry to say it of +them, but so it is. It makes me very nervous and poorly, to be thwarted +so in my own family, and to have neighbours who think of themselves +before anybody else. However, your coming just at this time is the +greatest of comforts, and I am very glad to hear what you tell us, of +long sleeves." + +Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before, +in the course of Jane and Elizabeth's correspondence with her, made her +sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the +conversation. + +When alone with Elizabeth afterwards, she spoke more on the subject. "It +seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane," said she. "I am +sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man, such +as you describe Mr. Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl +for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets +her, that these sort of inconsistencies are very frequent." + +"An excellent consolation in its way," said Elizabeth, "but it will not +do for _us_. We do not suffer by _accident_. It does not often +happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of +independent fortune to think no more of a girl whom he was violently in +love with only a few days before." + +"But that expression of 'violently in love' is so hackneyed, so +doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as +often applied to feelings which arise from a half-hour's acquaintance, +as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how _violent was_ Mr. Bingley's +love?" + +"I never saw a more promising inclination; he was growing quite +inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time +they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he +offended two or three young ladies, by not asking them to dance; and I +spoke to him twice myself, without receiving an answer. Could there be +finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?" + +"Oh, yes!--of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor +Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get +over it immediately. It had better have happened to _you_, Lizzy; you +would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she +would be prevailed upon to go back with us? Change of scene might be +of service--and perhaps a little relief from home may be as useful as +anything." + +Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased with this proposal, and felt persuaded +of her sister's ready acquiescence. + +"I hope," added Mrs. Gardiner, "that no consideration with regard to +this young man will influence her. We live in so different a part of +town, all our connections are so different, and, as you well know, we go +out so little, that it is very improbable that they should meet at all, +unless he really comes to see her." + +"And _that_ is quite impossible; for he is now in the custody of his +friend, and Mr. Darcy would no more suffer him to call on Jane in such +a part of London! My dear aunt, how could you think of it? Mr. Darcy may +perhaps have _heard_ of such a place as Gracechurch Street, but he +would hardly think a month's ablution enough to cleanse him from its +impurities, were he once to enter it; and depend upon it, Mr. Bingley +never stirs without him." + +"So much the better. I hope they will not meet at all. But does not Jane +correspond with his sister? _She_ will not be able to help calling." + +"She will drop the acquaintance entirely." + +But in spite of the certainty in which Elizabeth affected to place this +point, as well as the still more interesting one of Bingley's being +withheld from seeing Jane, she felt a solicitude on the subject which +convinced her, on examination, that she did not consider it entirely +hopeless. It was possible, and sometimes she thought it probable, that +his affection might be reanimated, and the influence of his friends +successfully combated by the more natural influence of Jane's +attractions. + +Miss Bennet accepted her aunt's invitation with pleasure; and the +Bingleys were no otherwise in her thoughts at the same time, than as she +hoped by Caroline's not living in the same house with her brother, +she might occasionally spend a morning with her, without any danger of +seeing him. + +The Gardiners stayed a week at Longbourn; and what with the Phillipses, +the Lucases, and the officers, there was not a day without its +engagement. Mrs. Bennet had so carefully provided for the entertainment +of her brother and sister, that they did not once sit down to a family +dinner. When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always +made part of it--of which officers Mr. Wickham was sure to be one; and +on these occasion, Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth's +warm commendation, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing them, +from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their preference +of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; and +she resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left +Hertfordshire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such +an attachment. + +To Mrs. Gardiner, Wickham had one means of affording pleasure, +unconnected with his general powers. About ten or a dozen years ago, +before her marriage, she had spent a considerable time in that very +part of Derbyshire to which he belonged. They had, therefore, many +acquaintances in common; and though Wickham had been little there since +the death of Darcy's father, it was yet in his power to give her fresher +intelligence of her former friends than she had been in the way of +procuring. + +Mrs. Gardiner had seen Pemberley, and known the late Mr. Darcy by +character perfectly well. Here consequently was an inexhaustible subject +of discourse. In comparing her recollection of Pemberley with the minute +description which Wickham could give, and in bestowing her tribute of +praise on the character of its late possessor, she was delighting both +him and herself. On being made acquainted with the present Mr. Darcy's +treatment of him, she tried to remember some of that gentleman's +reputed disposition when quite a lad which might agree with it, and +was confident at last that she recollected having heard Mr. Fitzwilliam +Darcy formerly spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy. + + + +Chapter 26 + + +Mrs. Gardiner's caution to Elizabeth was punctually and kindly given +on the first favourable opportunity of speaking to her alone; after +honestly telling her what she thought, she thus went on: + +"You are too sensible a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love merely because +you are warned against it; and, therefore, I am not afraid of speaking +openly. Seriously, I would have you be on your guard. Do not involve +yourself or endeavour to involve him in an affection which the want +of fortune would make so very imprudent. I have nothing to say against +_him_; he is a most interesting young man; and if he had the fortune he +ought to have, I should think you could not do better. But as it is, you +must not let your fancy run away with you. You have sense, and we all +expect you to use it. Your father would depend on _your_ resolution and +good conduct, I am sure. You must not disappoint your father." + +"My dear aunt, this is being serious indeed." + +"Yes, and I hope to engage you to be serious likewise." + +"Well, then, you need not be under any alarm. I will take care of +myself, and of Mr. Wickham too. He shall not be in love with me, if I +can prevent it." + +"Elizabeth, you are not serious now." + +"I beg your pardon, I will try again. At present I am not in love with +Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison, +the most agreeable man I ever saw--and if he becomes really attached to +me--I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence +of it. Oh! _that_ abominable Mr. Darcy! My father's opinion of me does +me the greatest honour, and I should be miserable to forfeit it. My +father, however, is partial to Mr. Wickham. In short, my dear aunt, I +should be very sorry to be the means of making any of you unhappy; but +since we see every day that where there is affection, young people +are seldom withheld by immediate want of fortune from entering into +engagements with each other, how can I promise to be wiser than so many +of my fellow-creatures if I am tempted, or how am I even to know that it +would be wisdom to resist? All that I can promise you, therefore, is not +to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first +object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short, +I will do my best." + +"Perhaps it will be as well if you discourage his coming here so very +often. At least, you should not _remind_ your mother of inviting him." + +"As I did the other day," said Elizabeth with a conscious smile: "very +true, it will be wise in me to refrain from _that_. But do not imagine +that he is always here so often. It is on your account that he has been +so frequently invited this week. You know my mother's ideas as to the +necessity of constant company for her friends. But really, and upon my +honour, I will try to do what I think to be the wisest; and now I hope +you are satisfied." + +Her aunt assured her that she was, and Elizabeth having thanked her for +the kindness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice +being given on such a point, without being resented. + +Mr. Collins returned into Hertfordshire soon after it had been quitted +by the Gardiners and Jane; but as he took up his abode with the Lucases, +his arrival was no great inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. His marriage was +now fast approaching, and she was at length so far resigned as to think +it inevitable, and even repeatedly to say, in an ill-natured tone, that +she "_wished_ they might be happy." Thursday was to be the wedding day, +and on Wednesday Miss Lucas paid her farewell visit; and when she +rose to take leave, Elizabeth, ashamed of her mother's ungracious and +reluctant good wishes, and sincerely affected herself, accompanied her +out of the room. As they went downstairs together, Charlotte said: + +"I shall depend on hearing from you very often, Eliza." + +"_That_ you certainly shall." + +"And I have another favour to ask you. Will you come and see me?" + +"We shall often meet, I hope, in Hertfordshire." + +"I am not likely to leave Kent for some time. Promise me, therefore, to +come to Hunsford." + +Elizabeth could not refuse, though she foresaw little pleasure in the +visit. + +"My father and Maria are coming to me in March," added Charlotte, "and I +hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be as +welcome as either of them." + +The wedding took place; the bride and bridegroom set off for Kent from +the church door, and everybody had as much to say, or to hear, on +the subject as usual. Elizabeth soon heard from her friend; and their +correspondence was as regular and frequent as it had ever been; that +it should be equally unreserved was impossible. Elizabeth could never +address her without feeling that all the comfort of intimacy was over, +and though determined not to slacken as a correspondent, it was for the +sake of what had been, rather than what was. Charlotte's first letters +were received with a good deal of eagerness; there could not but be +curiosity to know how she would speak of her new home, how she would +like Lady Catherine, and how happy she would dare pronounce herself to +be; though, when the letters were read, Elizabeth felt that Charlotte +expressed herself on every point exactly as she might have foreseen. She +wrote cheerfully, seemed surrounded with comforts, and mentioned nothing +which she could not praise. The house, furniture, neighbourhood, and +roads, were all to her taste, and Lady Catherine's behaviour was most +friendly and obliging. It was Mr. Collins's picture of Hunsford and +Rosings rationally softened; and Elizabeth perceived that she must wait +for her own visit there to know the rest. + +Jane had already written a few lines to her sister to announce their +safe arrival in London; and when she wrote again, Elizabeth hoped it +would be in her power to say something of the Bingleys. + +Her impatience for this second letter was as well rewarded as impatience +generally is. Jane had been a week in town without either seeing or +hearing from Caroline. She accounted for it, however, by supposing that +her last letter to her friend from Longbourn had by some accident been +lost. + +"My aunt," she continued, "is going to-morrow into that part of the +town, and I shall take the opportunity of calling in Grosvenor Street." + +She wrote again when the visit was paid, and she had seen Miss Bingley. +"I did not think Caroline in spirits," were her words, "but she was very +glad to see me, and reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming +to London. I was right, therefore, my last letter had never reached +her. I inquired after their brother, of course. He was well, but so much +engaged with Mr. Darcy that they scarcely ever saw him. I found that +Miss Darcy was expected to dinner. I wish I could see her. My visit was +not long, as Caroline and Mrs. Hurst were going out. I dare say I shall +see them soon here." + +Elizabeth shook her head over this letter. It convinced her that +accident only could discover to Mr. Bingley her sister's being in town. + +Four weeks passed away, and Jane saw nothing of him. She endeavoured to +persuade herself that she did not regret it; but she could no longer be +blind to Miss Bingley's inattention. After waiting at home every morning +for a fortnight, and inventing every evening a fresh excuse for her, the +visitor did at last appear; but the shortness of her stay, and yet more, +the alteration of her manner would allow Jane to deceive herself no +longer. The letter which she wrote on this occasion to her sister will +prove what she felt. + +"My dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her +better judgement, at my expense, when I confess myself to have been +entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me. But, my dear sister, +though the event has proved you right, do not think me obstinate if I +still assert that, considering what her behaviour was, my confidence was +as natural as your suspicion. I do not at all comprehend her reason for +wishing to be intimate with me; but if the same circumstances were to +happen again, I am sure I should be deceived again. Caroline did not +return my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did I +receive in the meantime. When she did come, it was very evident that +she had no pleasure in it; she made a slight, formal apology, for not +calling before, said not a word of wishing to see me again, and was +in every respect so altered a creature, that when she went away I was +perfectly resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer. I pity, +though I cannot help blaming her. She was very wrong in singling me out +as she did; I can safely say that every advance to intimacy began on +her side. But I pity her, because she must feel that she has been acting +wrong, and because I am very sure that anxiety for her brother is the +cause of it. I need not explain myself farther; and though _we_ know +this anxiety to be quite needless, yet if she feels it, it will easily +account for her behaviour to me; and so deservedly dear as he is to +his sister, whatever anxiety she must feel on his behalf is natural and +amiable. I cannot but wonder, however, at her having any such fears now, +because, if he had at all cared about me, we must have met, long ago. +He knows of my being in town, I am certain, from something she said +herself; and yet it would seem, by her manner of talking, as if she +wanted to persuade herself that he is really partial to Miss Darcy. I +cannot understand it. If I were not afraid of judging harshly, I should +be almost tempted to say that there is a strong appearance of duplicity +in all this. But I will endeavour to banish every painful thought, +and think only of what will make me happy--your affection, and the +invariable kindness of my dear uncle and aunt. Let me hear from you very +soon. Miss Bingley said something of his never returning to Netherfield +again, of giving up the house, but not with any certainty. We had better +not mention it. I am extremely glad that you have such pleasant accounts +from our friends at Hunsford. Pray go to see them, with Sir William and +Maria. I am sure you will be very comfortable there.--Yours, etc." + +This letter gave Elizabeth some pain; but her spirits returned as she +considered that Jane would no longer be duped, by the sister at least. +All expectation from the brother was now absolutely over. She would not +even wish for a renewal of his attentions. His character sunk on +every review of it; and as a punishment for him, as well as a possible +advantage to Jane, she seriously hoped he might really soon marry Mr. +Darcy's sister, as by Wickham's account, she would make him abundantly +regret what he had thrown away. + +Mrs. Gardiner about this time reminded Elizabeth of her promise +concerning that gentleman, and required information; and Elizabeth +had such to send as might rather give contentment to her aunt than to +herself. His apparent partiality had subsided, his attentions were over, +he was the admirer of some one else. Elizabeth was watchful enough to +see it all, but she could see it and write of it without material pain. +Her heart had been but slightly touched, and her vanity was satisfied +with believing that _she_ would have been his only choice, had fortune +permitted it. The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most +remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himself +agreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than +in Charlotte's, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence. +Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and while able to +suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was +ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very +sincerely wish him happy. + +All this was acknowledged to Mrs. Gardiner; and after relating the +circumstances, she thus went on: "I am now convinced, my dear aunt, that +I have never been much in love; for had I really experienced that pure +and elevating passion, I should at present detest his very name, and +wish him all manner of evil. But my feelings are not only cordial +towards _him_; they are even impartial towards Miss King. I cannot find +out that I hate her at all, or that I am in the least unwilling to +think her a very good sort of girl. There can be no love in all this. My +watchfulness has been effectual; and though I certainly should be a more +interesting object to all my acquaintances were I distractedly in love +with him, I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. +Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia take +his defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the +ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that +handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain." + + + +Chapter 27 + + +With no greater events than these in the Longbourn family, and otherwise +diversified by little beyond the walks to Meryton, sometimes dirty and +sometimes cold, did January and February pass away. March was to take +Elizabeth to Hunsford. She had not at first thought very seriously of +going thither; but Charlotte, she soon found, was depending on the plan +and she gradually learned to consider it herself with greater pleasure +as well as greater certainty. Absence had increased her desire of seeing +Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There +was novelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and such +uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change +was not unwelcome for its own sake. The journey would moreover give her +a peep at Jane; and, in short, as the time drew near, she would have +been very sorry for any delay. Everything, however, went on smoothly, +and was finally settled according to Charlotte's first sketch. She was +to accompany Sir William and his second daughter. The improvement +of spending a night in London was added in time, and the plan became +perfect as plan could be. + +The only pain was in leaving her father, who would certainly miss her, +and who, when it came to the point, so little liked her going, that he +told her to write to him, and almost promised to answer her letter. + +The farewell between herself and Mr. Wickham was perfectly friendly; on +his side even more. His present pursuit could not make him forget that +Elizabeth had been the first to excite and to deserve his attention, the +first to listen and to pity, the first to be admired; and in his manner +of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of +what she was to expect in Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and trusting their +opinion of her--their opinion of everybody--would always coincide, there +was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her to +him with a most sincere regard; and she parted from him convinced that, +whether married or single, he must always be her model of the amiable +and pleasing. + +Her fellow-travellers the next day were not of a kind to make her +think him less agreeable. Sir William Lucas, and his daughter Maria, a +good-humoured girl, but as empty-headed as himself, had nothing to say +that could be worth hearing, and were listened to with about as much +delight as the rattle of the chaise. Elizabeth loved absurdities, but +she had known Sir William's too long. He could tell her nothing new of +the wonders of his presentation and knighthood; and his civilities were +worn out, like his information. + +It was a journey of only twenty-four miles, and they began it so early +as to be in Gracechurch Street by noon. As they drove to Mr. Gardiner's +door, Jane was at a drawing-room window watching their arrival; when +they entered the passage she was there to welcome them, and Elizabeth, +looking earnestly in her face, was pleased to see it healthful and +lovely as ever. On the stairs were a troop of little boys and girls, +whose eagerness for their cousin's appearance would not allow them to +wait in the drawing-room, and whose shyness, as they had not seen +her for a twelvemonth, prevented their coming lower. All was joy and +kindness. The day passed most pleasantly away; the morning in bustle and +shopping, and the evening at one of the theatres. + +Elizabeth then contrived to sit by her aunt. Their first object was her +sister; and she was more grieved than astonished to hear, in reply to +her minute inquiries, that though Jane always struggled to support her +spirits, there were periods of dejection. It was reasonable, however, +to hope that they would not continue long. Mrs. Gardiner gave her the +particulars also of Miss Bingley's visit in Gracechurch Street, and +repeated conversations occurring at different times between Jane and +herself, which proved that the former had, from her heart, given up the +acquaintance. + +Mrs. Gardiner then rallied her niece on Wickham's desertion, and +complimented her on bearing it so well. + +"But my dear Elizabeth," she added, "what sort of girl is Miss King? I +should be sorry to think our friend mercenary." + +"Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs, +between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end, +and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me, +because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get +a girl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is +mercenary." + +"If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shall know +what to think." + +"She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her." + +"But he paid her not the smallest attention till her grandfather's death +made her mistress of this fortune." + +"No--what should he? If it were not allowable for him to gain _my_ +affections because I had no money, what occasion could there be for +making love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equally +poor?" + +"But there seems an indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her +so soon after this event." + +"A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant +decorums which other people may observe. If _she_ does not object to it, +why should _we_?" + +"_Her_ not objecting does not justify _him_. It only shows her being +deficient in something herself--sense or feeling." + +"Well," cried Elizabeth, "have it as you choose. _He_ shall be +mercenary, and _she_ shall be foolish." + +"No, Lizzy, that is what I do _not_ choose. I should be sorry, you know, +to think ill of a young man who has lived so long in Derbyshire." + +"Oh! if that is all, I have a very poor opinion of young men who live in +Derbyshire; and their intimate friends who live in Hertfordshire are not +much better. I am sick of them all. Thank Heaven! I am going to-morrow +where I shall find a man who has not one agreeable quality, who has +neither manner nor sense to recommend him. Stupid men are the only ones +worth knowing, after all." + +"Take care, Lizzy; that speech savours strongly of disappointment." + +Before they were separated by the conclusion of the play, she had the +unexpected happiness of an invitation to accompany her uncle and aunt in +a tour of pleasure which they proposed taking in the summer. + +"We have not determined how far it shall carry us," said Mrs. Gardiner, +"but, perhaps, to the Lakes." + +No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her +acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. "Oh, my dear, +dear aunt," she rapturously cried, "what delight! what felicity! You +give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What +are young men to rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport +we shall spend! And when we _do_ return, it shall not be like other +travellers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We +_will_ know where we have gone--we _will_ recollect what we have seen. +Lakes, mountains, and rivers shall not be jumbled together in our +imaginations; nor when we attempt to describe any particular scene, +will we begin quarreling about its relative situation. Let _our_ +first effusions be less insupportable than those of the generality of +travellers." + + + +Chapter 28 + + +Every object in the next day's journey was new and interesting to +Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state of enjoyment; for she had +seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health, +and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight. + +When they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in +search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view. +The palings of Rosings Park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth +smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants. + +At length the Parsonage was discernible. The garden sloping to the +road, the house standing in it, the green pales, and the laurel hedge, +everything declared they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte +appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate which +led by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of +the whole party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing +at the sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the +liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with +coming when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw +instantly that her cousin's manners were not altered by his marriage; +his formal civility was just what it had been, and he detained her some +minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his inquiries after all her +family. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the +neatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they +were in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time, with ostentatious +formality to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's +offers of refreshment. + +Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help +in fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its +aspect and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, +as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But +though everything seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to +gratify him by any sigh of repentance, and rather looked with wonder at +her friend that she could have so cheerful an air with such a companion. +When Mr. Collins said anything of which his wife might reasonably be +ashamed, which certainly was not unseldom, she involuntarily turned her +eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but +in general Charlotte wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to +admire every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to +the fender, to give an account of their journey, and of all that had +happened in London, Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the +garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of +which he attended himself. To work in this garden was one of his most +respectable pleasures; and Elizabeth admired the command of countenance +with which Charlotte talked of the healthfulness of the exercise, and +owned she encouraged it as much as possible. Here, leading the way +through every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them an +interval to utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out +with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could number the +fields in every direction, and could tell how many tress there were in +the most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or which +the country or kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with the +prospect of Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered +the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome +modern building, well situated on rising ground. + +From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows; +but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of a white +frost, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte +took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased, +probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her husband's +help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything +was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency of which +Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit. When Mr. Collins could be +forgotten, there was really an air of great comfort throughout, and by +Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often +forgotten. + +She had already learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It +was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining +in, observed: + +"Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine +de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will +be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I +doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice +when service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying she +will include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she +honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is +charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed +to walk home. Her ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us. I +_should_ say, one of her ladyship's carriages, for she has several." + +"Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman indeed," added +Charlotte, "and a most attentive neighbour." + +"Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of +woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference." + +The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, +and telling again what had already been written; and when it closed, +Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon +Charlotte's degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, +and composure in bearing with, her husband, and to acknowledge that it +was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit +would pass, the quiet tenor of their usual employments, the vexatious +interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with +Rosings. A lively imagination soon settled it all. + +About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready +for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in +confusion; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running +upstairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened +the door and met Maria in the landing place, who, breathless with +agitation, cried out-- + +"Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for +there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make +haste, and come down this moment." + +Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more, +and down they ran into the dining-room, which fronted the lane, in +quest of this wonder; It was two ladies stopping in a low phaeton at the +garden gate. + +"And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I expected at least that the pigs +were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her +daughter." + +"La! my dear," said Maria, quite shocked at the mistake, "it is not +Lady Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them; +the other is Miss de Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little +creature. Who would have thought that she could be so thin and small?" + +"She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind. +Why does she not come in?" + +"Oh, Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours +when Miss de Bourgh comes in." + +"I like her appearance," said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. "She +looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will +make him a very proper wife." + +Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in conversation +with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's high diversion, was +stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness +before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss de Bourgh looked that +way. + +At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and +the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two +girls than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which +Charlotte explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked +to dine at Rosings the next day. + + + +Chapter 29 + + +Mr. Collins's triumph, in consequence of this invitation, was complete. +The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering +visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his +wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity +of doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Lady +Catherine's condescension, as he knew not how to admire enough. + +"I confess," said he, "that I should not have been at all surprised by +her ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at +Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it +would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who +could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there +(an invitation, moreover, including the whole party) so immediately +after your arrival!" + +"I am the less surprised at what has happened," replied Sir William, +"from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which +my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the court, such +instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon." + +Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day or next morning but their +visit to Rosings. Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what +they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and +so splendid a dinner, might not wholly overpower them. + +When the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to Elizabeth-- + +"Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. Lady +Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which +becomes herself and her daughter. I would advise you merely to put on +whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest--there is no occasion +for anything more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you +for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank +preserved." + +While they were dressing, he came two or three times to their different +doors, to recommend their being quick, as Lady Catherine very much +objected to be kept waiting for her dinner. Such formidable accounts of +her ladyship, and her manner of living, quite frightened Maria Lucas +who had been little used to company, and she looked forward to her +introduction at Rosings with as much apprehension as her father had done +to his presentation at St. James's. + +As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a +mile across the park. Every park has its beauty and its prospects; and +Elizabeth saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such +raptures as Mr. Collins expected the scene to inspire, and was but +slightly affected by his enumeration of the windows in front of the +house, and his relation of what the glazing altogether had originally +cost Sir Lewis de Bourgh. + +When they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria's alarm was every +moment increasing, and even Sir William did not look perfectly calm. +Elizabeth's courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of Lady +Catherine that spoke her awful from any extraordinary talents or +miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money or rank she thought +she could witness without trepidation. + +From the entrance-hall, of which Mr. Collins pointed out, with a +rapturous air, the fine proportion and the finished ornaments, they +followed the servants through an ante-chamber, to the room where Lady +Catherine, her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were sitting. Her ladyship, +with great condescension, arose to receive them; and as Mrs. Collins had +settled it with her husband that the office of introduction should +be hers, it was performed in a proper manner, without any of those +apologies and thanks which he would have thought necessary. + +In spite of having been at St. James's Sir William was so completely +awed by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but just courage +enough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word; +and his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edge +of her chair, not knowing which way to look. Elizabeth found herself +quite equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before her +composedly. Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked +features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not +conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her +visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered formidable by +silence; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone, +as marked her self-importance, and brought Mr. Wickham immediately to +Elizabeth's mind; and from the observation of the day altogether, she +believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he represented. + +When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance and deportment +she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy, she turned her eyes on the +daughter, she could almost have joined in Maria's astonishment at her +being so thin and so small. There was neither in figure nor face any +likeness between the ladies. Miss de Bourgh was pale and sickly; her +features, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very +little, except in a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose appearance +there was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listening +to what she said, and placing a screen in the proper direction before +her eyes. + +After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent to one of the windows to +admire the view, Mr. Collins attending them to point out its beauties, +and Lady Catherine kindly informing them that it was much better worth +looking at in the summer. + +The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants and +all the articles of plate which Mr. Collins had promised; and, as he had +likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by her +ladyship's desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish +nothing greater. He carved, and ate, and praised with delighted +alacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him and then by Sir +William, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son-in-law +said, in a manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear. +But Lady Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and +gave most gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved +a novelty to them. The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth +was ready to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated +between Charlotte and Miss de Bourgh--the former of whom was engaged in +listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word to her all +dinner-time. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how little +Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish, and fearing +she was indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question, and the +gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire. + +When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to +be done but to hear Lady Catherine talk, which she did without any +intermission till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on every +subject in so decisive a manner, as proved that she was not used to +have her judgement controverted. She inquired into Charlotte's domestic +concerns familiarly and minutely, gave her a great deal of advice as +to the management of them all; told her how everything ought to be +regulated in so small a family as hers, and instructed her as to the +care of her cows and her poultry. Elizabeth found that nothing was +beneath this great lady's attention, which could furnish her with an +occasion of dictating to others. In the intervals of her discourse +with Mrs. Collins, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and +Elizabeth, but especially to the latter, of whose connections she knew +the least, and who she observed to Mrs. Collins was a very genteel, +pretty kind of girl. She asked her, at different times, how many sisters +she had, whether they were older or younger than herself, whether any of +them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they +had been educated, what carriage her father kept, and what had been +her mother's maiden name? Elizabeth felt all the impertinence of +her questions but answered them very composedly. Lady Catherine then +observed, + +"Your father's estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I think. For your +sake," turning to Charlotte, "I am glad of it; but otherwise I see no +occasion for entailing estates from the female line. It was not thought +necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh's family. Do you play and sing, Miss +Bennet?" + +"A little." + +"Oh! then--some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our +instrument is a capital one, probably superior to----You shall try it +some day. Do your sisters play and sing?" + +"One of them does." + +"Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learned. The Miss +Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as yours. Do +you draw?" + +"No, not at all." + +"What, none of you?" + +"Not one." + +"That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity. Your mother +should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters." + +"My mother would have had no objection, but my father hates London." + +"Has your governess left you?" + +"We never had any governess." + +"No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home +without a governess! I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must +have been quite a slave to your education." + +Elizabeth could hardly help smiling as she assured her that had not been +the case. + +"Then, who taught you? who attended to you? Without a governess, you +must have been neglected." + +"Compared with some families, I believe we were; but such of us as +wished to learn never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to +read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be +idle, certainly might." + +"Aye, no doubt; but that is what a governess will prevent, and if I had +known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage +one. I always say that nothing is to be done in education without steady +and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can give it. It is +wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that +way. I am always glad to get a young person well placed out. Four nieces +of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means; and +it was but the other day that I recommended another young person, +who was merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the family are quite +delighted with her. Mrs. Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalf's +calling yesterday to thank me? She finds Miss Pope a treasure. 'Lady +Catherine,' said she, 'you have given me a treasure.' Are any of your +younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?" + +"Yes, ma'am, all." + +"All! What, all five out at once? Very odd! And you only the second. The +younger ones out before the elder ones are married! Your younger sisters +must be very young?" + +"Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps _she_ is full young to be +much in company. But really, ma'am, I think it would be very hard upon +younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and +amusement, because the elder may not have the means or inclination to +marry early. The last-born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth +at the first. And to be kept back on _such_ a motive! I think it would +not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind." + +"Upon my word," said her ladyship, "you give your opinion very decidedly +for so young a person. Pray, what is your age?" + +"With three younger sisters grown up," replied Elizabeth, smiling, "your +ladyship can hardly expect me to own it." + +Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer; +and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever +dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence. + +"You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure, therefore you need not +conceal your age." + +"I am not one-and-twenty." + +When the gentlemen had joined them, and tea was over, the card-tables +were placed. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins sat +down to quadrille; and as Miss de Bourgh chose to play at cassino, the +two girls had the honour of assisting Mrs. Jenkinson to make up her +party. Their table was superlatively stupid. Scarcely a syllable was +uttered that did not relate to the game, except when Mrs. Jenkinson +expressed her fears of Miss de Bourgh's being too hot or too cold, or +having too much or too little light. A great deal more passed at the +other table. Lady Catherine was generally speaking--stating the mistakes +of the three others, or relating some anecdote of herself. Mr. Collins +was employed in agreeing to everything her ladyship said, thanking her +for every fish he won, and apologising if he thought he won too many. +Sir William did not say much. He was storing his memory with anecdotes +and noble names. + +When Lady Catherine and her daughter had played as long as they chose, +the tables were broken up, the carriage was offered to Mrs. Collins, +gratefully accepted and immediately ordered. The party then gathered +round the fire to hear Lady Catherine determine what weather they were +to have on the morrow. From these instructions they were summoned by +the arrival of the coach; and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr. +Collins's side and as many bows on Sir William's they departed. As soon +as they had driven from the door, Elizabeth was called on by her cousin +to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which, for +Charlotte's sake, she made more favourable than it really was. But her +commendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means satisfy +Mr. Collins, and he was very soon obliged to take her ladyship's praise +into his own hands. + + + +Chapter 30 + + +Sir William stayed only a week at Hunsford, but his visit was long +enough to convince him of his daughter's being most comfortably settled, +and of her possessing such a husband and such a neighbour as were not +often met with. While Sir William was with them, Mr. Collins devoted his +morning to driving him out in his gig, and showing him the country; but +when he went away, the whole family returned to their usual employments, +and Elizabeth was thankful to find that they did not see more of her +cousin by the alteration, for the chief of the time between breakfast +and dinner was now passed by him either at work in the garden or in +reading and writing, and looking out of the window in his own book-room, +which fronted the road. The room in which the ladies sat was backwards. +Elizabeth had at first rather wondered that Charlotte should not prefer +the dining-parlour for common use; it was a better sized room, and had a +more pleasant aspect; but she soon saw that her friend had an excellent +reason for what she did, for Mr. Collins would undoubtedly have been +much less in his own apartment, had they sat in one equally lively; and +she gave Charlotte credit for the arrangement. + +From the drawing-room they could distinguish nothing in the lane, and +were indebted to Mr. Collins for the knowledge of what carriages went +along, and how often especially Miss de Bourgh drove by in her phaeton, +which he never failed coming to inform them of, though it happened +almost every day. She not unfrequently stopped at the Parsonage, and +had a few minutes' conversation with Charlotte, but was scarcely ever +prevailed upon to get out. + +Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and +not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise; +and till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other family livings +to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many +hours. Now and then they were honoured with a call from her ladyship, +and nothing escaped her observation that was passing in the room during +these visits. She examined into their employments, looked at their work, +and advised them to do it differently; found fault with the arrangement +of the furniture; or detected the housemaid in negligence; and if she +accepted any refreshment, seemed to do it only for the sake of finding +out that Mrs. Collins's joints of meat were too large for her family. + +Elizabeth soon perceived, that though this great lady was not in +commission of the peace of the county, she was a most active magistrate +in her own parish, the minutest concerns of which were carried to her +by Mr. Collins; and whenever any of the cottagers were disposed to +be quarrelsome, discontented, or too poor, she sallied forth into the +village to settle their differences, silence their complaints, and scold +them into harmony and plenty. + +The entertainment of dining at Rosings was repeated about twice a week; +and, allowing for the loss of Sir William, and there being only one +card-table in the evening, every such entertainment was the counterpart +of the first. Their other engagements were few, as the style of living +in the neighbourhood in general was beyond Mr. Collins's reach. This, +however, was no evil to Elizabeth, and upon the whole she spent her time +comfortably enough; there were half-hours of pleasant conversation with +Charlotte, and the weather was so fine for the time of year that she had +often great enjoyment out of doors. Her favourite walk, and where she +frequently went while the others were calling on Lady Catherine, was +along the open grove which edged that side of the park, where there was +a nice sheltered path, which no one seemed to value but herself, and +where she felt beyond the reach of Lady Catherine's curiosity. + +In this quiet way, the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away. +Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring an +addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be +important. Elizabeth had heard soon after her arrival that Mr. Darcy was +expected there in the course of a few weeks, and though there were not +many of her acquaintances whom she did not prefer, his coming would +furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and +she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley's designs on him +were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently +destined by Lady Catherine, who talked of his coming with the greatest +satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and +seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by +Miss Lucas and herself. + +His arrival was soon known at the Parsonage; for Mr. Collins was walking +the whole morning within view of the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane, +in order to have the earliest assurance of it, and after making his +bow as the carriage turned into the Park, hurried home with the great +intelligence. On the following morning he hastened to Rosings to pay his +respects. There were two nephews of Lady Catherine to require them, for +Mr. Darcy had brought with him a Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of +his uncle Lord ----, and, to the great surprise of all the party, when +Mr. Collins returned, the gentleman accompanied him. Charlotte had seen +them from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately running +into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding: + +"I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would +never have come so soon to wait upon me." + +Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment, +before their approach was announced by the door-bell, and shortly +afterwards the three gentlemen entered the room. Colonel Fitzwilliam, +who led the way, was about thirty, not handsome, but in person and +address most truly the gentleman. Mr. Darcy looked just as he had been +used to look in Hertfordshire--paid his compliments, with his usual +reserve, to Mrs. Collins, and whatever might be his feelings toward her +friend, met her with every appearance of composure. Elizabeth merely +curtseyed to him without saying a word. + +Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the +readiness and ease of a well-bred man, and talked very pleasantly; but +his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and +garden to Mrs. Collins, sat for some time without speaking to anybody. +At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to inquire of +Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual +way, and after a moment's pause, added: + +"My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never +happened to see her there?" + +She was perfectly sensible that he never had; but she wished to see +whether he would betray any consciousness of what had passed between +the Bingleys and Jane, and she thought he looked a little confused as he +answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The +subject was pursued no farther, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went +away. + + + +Chapter 31 + + +Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired at the Parsonage, +and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasures +of their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they +received any invitation thither--for while there were visitors in the +house, they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter-day, +almost a week after the gentlemen's arrival, that they were honoured by +such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to +come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little +of Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the +Parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had seen +only at church. + +The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined +the party in Lady Catherine's drawing-room. Her ladyship received +them civilly, but it was plain that their company was by no means so +acceptable as when she could get nobody else; and she was, in fact, +almost engrossed by her nephews, speaking to them, especially to Darcy, +much more than to any other person in the room. + +Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed really glad to see them; anything was a +welcome relief to him at Rosings; and Mrs. Collins's pretty friend had +moreover caught his fancy very much. He now seated himself by her, and +talked so agreeably of Kent and Hertfordshire, of travelling and staying +at home, of new books and music, that Elizabeth had never been half so +well entertained in that room before; and they conversed with so much +spirit and flow, as to draw the attention of Lady Catherine herself, +as well as of Mr. Darcy. _His_ eyes had been soon and repeatedly turned +towards them with a look of curiosity; and that her ladyship, after a +while, shared the feeling, was more openly acknowledged, for she did not +scruple to call out: + +"What is that you are saying, Fitzwilliam? What is it you are talking +of? What are you telling Miss Bennet? Let me hear what it is." + +"We are speaking of music, madam," said he, when no longer able to avoid +a reply. + +"Of music! Then pray speak aloud. It is of all subjects my delight. I +must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. +There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment +of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, +I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne, if her health +had allowed her to apply. I am confident that she would have performed +delightfully. How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?" + +Mr. Darcy spoke with affectionate praise of his sister's proficiency. + +"I am very glad to hear such a good account of her," said Lady +Catherine; "and pray tell her from me, that she cannot expect to excel +if she does not practice a good deal." + +"I assure you, madam," he replied, "that she does not need such advice. +She practises very constantly." + +"So much the better. It cannot be done too much; and when I next write +to her, I shall charge her not to neglect it on any account. I often +tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without +constant practice. I have told Miss Bennet several times, that she +will never play really well unless she practises more; and though Mrs. +Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome, as I have often told +her, to come to Rosings every day, and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. +Jenkinson's room. She would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part +of the house." + +Mr. Darcy looked a little ashamed of his aunt's ill-breeding, and made +no answer. + +When coffee was over, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of having +promised to play to him; and she sat down directly to the instrument. He +drew a chair near her. Lady Catherine listened to half a song, and then +talked, as before, to her other nephew; till the latter walked away +from her, and making with his usual deliberation towards the pianoforte +stationed himself so as to command a full view of the fair performer's +countenance. Elizabeth saw what he was doing, and at the first +convenient pause, turned to him with an arch smile, and said: + +"You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear +me? I will not be alarmed though your sister _does_ play so well. There +is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the +will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate +me." + +"I shall not say you are mistaken," he replied, "because you could not +really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you; and I have +had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know that you find +great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are +not your own." + +Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to +Colonel Fitzwilliam, "Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of +me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. I am particularly unlucky +in meeting with a person so able to expose my real character, in a part +of the world where I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of +credit. Indeed, Mr. Darcy, it is very ungenerous in you to mention all +that you knew to my disadvantage in Hertfordshire--and, give me leave to +say, very impolitic too--for it is provoking me to retaliate, and such +things may come out as will shock your relations to hear." + +"I am not afraid of you," said he, smilingly. + +"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel +Fitzwilliam. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers." + +"You shall hear then--but prepare yourself for something very dreadful. +The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, +was at a ball--and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced +only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain +knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a +partner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact." + +"I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly +beyond my own party." + +"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball-room. Well, Colonel +Fitzwilliam, what do I play next? My fingers wait your orders." + +"Perhaps," said Darcy, "I should have judged better, had I sought an +introduction; but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers." + +"Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?" said Elizabeth, still +addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Shall we ask him why a man of sense and +education, and who has lived in the world, is ill qualified to recommend +himself to strangers?" + +"I can answer your question," said Fitzwilliam, "without applying to +him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble." + +"I certainly have not the talent which some people possess," said Darcy, +"of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot +catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their +concerns, as I often see done." + +"My fingers," said Elizabeth, "do not move over this instrument in the +masterly manner which I see so many women's do. They have not the same +force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I +have always supposed it to be my own fault--because I will not take the +trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe _my_ fingers as +capable as any other woman's of superior execution." + +Darcy smiled and said, "You are perfectly right. You have employed your +time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you can +think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers." + +Here they were interrupted by Lady Catherine, who called out to know +what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again. +Lady Catherine approached, and, after listening for a few minutes, said +to Darcy: + +"Miss Bennet would not play at all amiss if she practised more, and +could have the advantage of a London master. She has a very good notion +of fingering, though her taste is not equal to Anne's. Anne would have +been a delightful performer, had her health allowed her to learn." + +Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his +cousin's praise; but neither at that moment nor at any other could she +discern any symptom of love; and from the whole of his behaviour to Miss +de Bourgh she derived this comfort for Miss Bingley, that he might have +been just as likely to marry _her_, had she been his relation. + +Lady Catherine continued her remarks on Elizabeth's performance, mixing +with them many instructions on execution and taste. Elizabeth received +them with all the forbearance of civility, and, at the request of the +gentlemen, remained at the instrument till her ladyship's carriage was +ready to take them all home. + + + +Chapter 32 + + +Elizabeth was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane +while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village, +when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a +visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to +be Lady Catherine, and under that apprehension was putting away her +half-finished letter that she might escape all impertinent questions, +when the door opened, and, to her very great surprise, Mr. Darcy, and +Mr. Darcy only, entered the room. + +He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologised for his +intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies were +to be within. + +They then sat down, and when her inquiries after Rosings were made, +seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely +necessary, therefore, to think of something, and in this emergence +recollecting _when_ she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and +feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty +departure, she observed: + +"How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! +It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you +all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day +before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?" + +"Perfectly so, I thank you." + +She found that she was to receive no other answer, and, after a short +pause added: + +"I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever +returning to Netherfield again?" + +"I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend +very little of his time there in the future. He has many friends, and +is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually +increasing." + +"If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for +the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we +might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did +not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as +for his own, and we must expect him to keep it or quit it on the same +principle." + +"I should not be surprised," said Darcy, "if he were to give it up as +soon as any eligible purchase offers." + +Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his +friend; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the +trouble of finding a subject to him. + +He took the hint, and soon began with, "This seems a very comfortable +house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. +Collins first came to Hunsford." + +"I believe she did--and I am sure she could not have bestowed her +kindness on a more grateful object." + +"Mr. Collins appears to be very fortunate in his choice of a wife." + +"Yes, indeed, his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one +of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made +him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding--though +I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the +wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however, and in a +prudential light it is certainly a very good match for her." + +"It must be very agreeable for her to be settled within so easy a +distance of her own family and friends." + +"An easy distance, do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles." + +"And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day's +journey. Yes, I call it a _very_ easy distance." + +"I should never have considered the distance as one of the _advantages_ +of the match," cried Elizabeth. "I should never have said Mrs. Collins +was settled _near_ her family." + +"It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond +the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far." + +As he spoke there was a sort of smile which Elizabeth fancied she +understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and +Netherfield, and she blushed as she answered: + +"I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her +family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many +varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expenses of +travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the +case _here_. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not +such a one as will allow of frequent journeys--and I am persuaded my +friend would not call herself _near_ her family under less than _half_ +the present distance." + +Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, "_You_ cannot +have a right to such very strong local attachment. _You_ cannot have +been always at Longbourn." + +Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of +feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and +glancing over it, said, in a colder voice: + +"Are you pleased with Kent?" + +A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side +calm and concise--and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte +and her sister, just returned from her walk. The tete-a-tete surprised +them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding +on Miss Bennet, and after sitting a few minutes longer without saying +much to anybody, went away. + +"What can be the meaning of this?" said Charlotte, as soon as he was +gone. "My dear, Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never +have called us in this familiar way." + +But when Elizabeth told of his silence; it did not seem very likely, +even to Charlotte's wishes, to be the case; and after various +conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from +the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable +from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there +was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard-table, but gentlemen cannot +always be within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the +pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the +two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither +almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes +separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their +aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he +had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended +him still more; and Elizabeth was reminded by her own satisfaction in +being with him, as well as by his evident admiration of her, of her +former favourite George Wickham; and though, in comparing them, she saw +there was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners, +she believed he might have the best informed mind. + +But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult +to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there +ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, +it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice--a sacrifice +to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really +animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel +Fitzwilliam's occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was +generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told +her; and as she would liked to have believed this change the effect +of love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza, she set herself +seriously to work to find it out. She watched him whenever they were at +Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He +certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that +look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often +doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it +seemed nothing but absence of mind. + +She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his +being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs. +Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of +raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her +opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend's dislike would +vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power. + + +In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying +Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was beyond comparison the most pleasant man; he +certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but, +to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage +in the church, and his cousin could have none at all. + + + +Chapter 33 + + +More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park, +unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the +mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought, and, to +prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that +it was a favourite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time, +therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like +wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was +not merely a few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, +but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He +never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking +or of listening much; but it struck her in the course of their third +rencontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions--about +her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her +opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of +Rosings and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to +expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying +_there_ too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel +Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She supposed, if he meant anything, he must +mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. It distressed +her a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the +pales opposite the Parsonage. + +She was engaged one day as she walked, in perusing Jane's last letter, +and dwelling on some passages which proved that Jane had not written in +spirits, when, instead of being again surprised by Mr. Darcy, she saw +on looking up that Colonel Fitzwilliam was meeting her. Putting away the +letter immediately and forcing a smile, she said: + +"I did not know before that you ever walked this way." + +"I have been making the tour of the park," he replied, "as I generally +do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are +you going much farther?" + +"No, I should have turned in a moment." + +And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage +together. + +"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?" said she. + +"Yes--if Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He +arranges the business just as he pleases." + +"And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least +pleasure in the great power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems +more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy." + +"He likes to have his own way very well," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. +"But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it +than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak +feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and +dependence." + +"In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of +either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and +dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going +wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?" + +"These are home questions--and perhaps I cannot say that I have +experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater +weight, I may suffer from want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where +they like." + +"Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often +do." + +"Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many +in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to +money." + +"Is this," thought Elizabeth, "meant for me?" and she coloured at the +idea; but, recovering herself, said in a lively tone, "And pray, what +is the usual price of an earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is +very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds." + +He answered her in the same style, and the subject dropped. To interrupt +a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed, +she soon afterwards said: + +"I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of +having someone at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a +lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps, his sister does as well +for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he +likes with her." + +"No," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "that is an advantage which he must +divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy." + +"Are you indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does your +charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes a +little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she +may like to have her own way." + +As she spoke she observed him looking at her earnestly; and the manner +in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to +give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other +got pretty near the truth. She directly replied: + +"You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare +say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a +very great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and +Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them." + +"I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant gentlemanlike man--he +is a great friend of Darcy's." + +"Oh! yes," said Elizabeth drily; "Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. +Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him." + +"Care of him! Yes, I really believe Darcy _does_ take care of him in +those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me in +our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to +him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that +Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture." + +"What is it you mean?" + +"It is a circumstance which Darcy could not wish to be generally known, +because if it were to get round to the lady's family, it would be an +unpleasant thing." + +"You may depend upon my not mentioning it." + +"And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be +Bingley. What he told me was merely this: that he congratulated himself +on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most +imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other +particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing +him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from +knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer." + +"Did Mr. Darcy give you reasons for this interference?" + +"I understood that there were some very strong objections against the +lady." + +"And what arts did he use to separate them?" + +"He did not talk to me of his own arts," said Fitzwilliam, smiling. "He +only told me what I have now told you." + +Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with +indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she +was so thoughtful. + +"I am thinking of what you have been telling me," said she. "Your +cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?" + +"You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?" + +"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his +friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgement alone, he was to +determine and direct in what manner his friend was to be happy. +But," she continued, recollecting herself, "as we know none of the +particulars, it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed +that there was much affection in the case." + +"That is not an unnatural surmise," said Fitzwilliam, "but it is a +lessening of the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly." + +This was spoken jestingly; but it appeared to her so just a picture +of Mr. Darcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer, and +therefore, abruptly changing the conversation talked on indifferent +matters until they reached the Parsonage. There, shut into her own room, +as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption +of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other +people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There +could not exist in the world _two_ men over whom Mr. Darcy could have +such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures +taken to separate Bingley and Jane she had never doubted; but she had +always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and arrangement +of them. If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him, _he_ was +the cause, his pride and caprice were the cause, of all that Jane had +suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a while +every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the +world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted. + +"There were some very strong objections against the lady," were Colonel +Fitzwilliam's words; and those strong objections probably were, her +having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in +business in London. + +"To Jane herself," she exclaimed, "there could be no possibility of +objection; all loveliness and goodness as she is!--her understanding +excellent, her mind improved, and her manners captivating. Neither +could anything be urged against my father, who, though with some +peculiarities, has abilities Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain, and +respectability which he will probably never each." When she thought of +her mother, her confidence gave way a little; but she would not allow +that any objections _there_ had material weight with Mr. Darcy, whose +pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from the want of +importance in his friend's connections, than from their want of sense; +and she was quite decided, at last, that he had been partly governed +by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of retaining Mr. +Bingley for his sister. + +The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned, brought on a +headache; and it grew so much worse towards the evening, that, added to +her unwillingness to see Mr. Darcy, it determined her not to attend her +cousins to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. Collins, +seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go and as much +as possible prevented her husband from pressing her; but Mr. Collins +could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine's being rather +displeased by her staying at home. + + + +Chapter 34 + + +When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself +as much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the +examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her +being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any +revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering. +But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that +cheerfulness which had been used to characterise her style, and which, +proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself and kindly +disposed towards everyone, had been scarcely ever clouded. Elizabeth +noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with an +attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy's +shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict, gave her +a keener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was some consolation +to think that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the +next--and, a still greater, that in less than a fortnight she should +herself be with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of +her spirits, by all that affection could do. + +She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent without remembering that +his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear +that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not +mean to be unhappy about him. + +While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the +door-bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its +being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in +the evening, and might now come to inquire particularly after her. +But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently +affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the +room. In an hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her +health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. +She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and +then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but +said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her +in an agitated manner, and thus began: + +"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be +repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love +you." + +Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, +doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; +and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, +immediately followed. He spoke well; but there were feelings besides +those of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on the +subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority--of +its being a degradation--of the family obstacles which had always +opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to +the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his +suit. + +In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to +the compliment of such a man's affection, and though her intentions did +not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to +receive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she +lost all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself to +answer him with patience, when he should have done. He concluded with +representing to her the strength of that attachment which, in spite +of all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and with +expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of +his hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt +of a favourable answer. He _spoke_ of apprehension and anxiety, but +his countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could +only exasperate farther, and, when he ceased, the colour rose into her +cheeks, and she said: + +"In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to +express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however +unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should +be felt, and if I could _feel_ gratitude, I would now thank you. But I +cannot--I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly +bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to +anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be +of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented +the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in +overcoming it after this explanation." + +Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantelpiece with his eyes fixed +on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than +surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance +of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the +appearance of composure, and would not open his lips till he believed +himself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings +dreadful. At length, with a voice of forced calmness, he said: + +"And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! +I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little _endeavour_ at +civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance." + +"I might as well inquire," replied she, "why with so evident a desire +of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me +against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? +Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I _was_ uncivil? But I have +other provocations. You know I have. Had not my feelings decided against +you--had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you +think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has +been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most +beloved sister?" + +As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion +was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she +continued: + +"I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can +excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted _there_. You dare not, +you cannot deny, that you have been the principal, if not the only means +of dividing them from each other--of exposing one to the censure of the +world for caprice and instability, and the other to its derision for +disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest +kind." + +She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening +with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. +He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity. + +"Can you deny that you have done it?" she repeated. + +With assumed tranquillity he then replied: "I have no wish of denying +that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your +sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards _him_ I have been +kinder than towards myself." + +Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection, +but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate her. + +"But it is not merely this affair," she continued, "on which my dislike +is founded. Long before it had taken place my opinion of you was +decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received +many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to +say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? +or under what misrepresentation can you here impose upon others?" + +"You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns," said Darcy, +in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour. + +"Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an +interest in him?" + +"His misfortunes!" repeated Darcy contemptuously; "yes, his misfortunes +have been great indeed." + +"And of your infliction," cried Elizabeth with energy. "You have reduced +him to his present state of poverty--comparative poverty. You have +withheld the advantages which you must know to have been designed for +him. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence +which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! +and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortune with contempt and +ridicule." + +"And this," cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, +"is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! +I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this +calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps," added he, stopping in +his walk, and turning towards her, "these offenses might have been +overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the +scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These +bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I, with greater +policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of +my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by +reflection, by everything. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. +Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and +just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your +connections?--to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose +condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?" + +Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to +the utmost to speak with composure when she said: + +"You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your +declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern +which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more +gentlemanlike manner." + +She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued: + +"You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that +would have tempted me to accept it." + +Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an +expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on: + +"From the very beginning--from the first moment, I may almost say--of +my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest +belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of +the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of +disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a +dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the +last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry." + +"You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your +feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. +Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best +wishes for your health and happiness." + +And with these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him +the next moment open the front door and quit the house. + +The tumult of her mind, was now painfully great. She knew not how +to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for +half-an-hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, +was increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer of +marriage from Mr. Darcy! That he should have been in love with her for +so many months! So much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of +all the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying +her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his +own case--was almost incredible! It was gratifying to have inspired +unconsciously so strong an affection. But his pride, his abominable +pride--his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to +Jane--his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could +not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. +Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon +overcame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for +a moment excited. She continued in very agitated reflections till the +sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to +encounter Charlotte's observation, and hurried her away to her room. + + + +Chapter 35 + + +Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations +which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the +surprise of what had happened; it was impossible to think of anything +else; and, totally indisposed for employment, she resolved, soon after +breakfast, to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding +directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy's +sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park, +she turned up the lane, which led farther from the turnpike-road. The +park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one +of the gates into the ground. + +After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was +tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and +look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had +made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the +verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk, +when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which +edged the park; he was moving that way; and, fearful of its being Mr. +Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was now +near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced +her name. She had turned away; but on hearing herself called, though +in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the +gate. He had by that time reached it also, and, holding out a letter, +which she instinctively took, said, with a look of haughty composure, +"I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. +Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?" And then, with a +slight bow, turned again into the plantation, and was soon out of sight. + +With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, +Elizabeth opened the letter, and, to her still increasing wonder, +perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter-paper, written +quite through, in a very close hand. The envelope itself was likewise +full. Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated +from Rosings, at eight o'clock in the morning, and was as follows:-- + +"Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension +of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those +offers which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any +intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes +which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the +effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion, +should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written +and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand +your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I +demand it of your justice. + +"Two offenses of a very different nature, and by no means of equal +magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, +that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley +from your sister, and the other, that I had, in defiance of various +claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate +prosperity and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham. Wilfully and +wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged +favourite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any other +dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect +its exertion, would be a depravity, to which the separation of two young +persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could +bear no comparison. But from the severity of that blame which was last +night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope +to be in the future secured, when the following account of my actions +and their motives has been read. If, in the explanation of them, which +is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which +may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry. The necessity +must be obeyed, and further apology would be absurd. + +"I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with +others, that Bingley preferred your elder sister to any other young +woman in the country. But it was not till the evening of the dance +at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious +attachment. I had often seen him in love before. At that ball, while I +had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir +William Lucas's accidental information, that Bingley's attentions to +your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. +He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could +be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behaviour +attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss +Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also +watched. Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, +but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced +from the evening's scrutiny, that though she received his attentions +with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of +sentiment. If _you_ have not been mistaken here, _I_ must have been +in error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter +probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such error to inflict +pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not +scruple to assert, that the serenity of your sister's countenance and +air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction +that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be +easily touched. That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is +certain--but I will venture to say that my investigation and decisions +are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe +her to be indifferent because I wished it; I believed it on impartial +conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason. My objections to the +marriage were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have +the utmost force of passion to put aside, in my own case; the want of +connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. But +there were other causes of repugnance; causes which, though still +existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had +myself endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately before +me. These causes must be stated, though briefly. The situation of your +mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to that +total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by +herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your +father. Pardon me. It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern +for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this +representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that, to +have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure, +is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your elder sister, than +it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. I will only say +farther that from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties +was confirmed, and every inducement heightened which could have led +me before, to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy +connection. He left Netherfield for London, on the day following, as +you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning. + +"The part which I acted is now to be explained. His sisters' uneasiness +had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was +soon discovered, and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in +detaching their brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in +London. We accordingly went--and there I readily engaged in the office +of pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. I +described, and enforced them earnestly. But, however this remonstrance +might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose +that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been +seconded by the assurance that I hesitated not in giving, of your +sister's indifference. He had before believed her to return his +affection with sincere, if not with equal regard. But Bingley has great +natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgement than on his +own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was +no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into +Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the +work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There +is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not +reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to adopt the +measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister's being in +town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley; but her +brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without +ill consequence is perhaps probable; but his regard did not appear to me +enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. Perhaps this +concealment, this disguise was beneath me; it is done, however, and it +was done for the best. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no +other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it +was unknowingly done and though the motives which governed me may to +you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn +them. + +"With respect to that other, more weighty accusation, of having injured +Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his +connection with my family. Of what he has _particularly_ accused me I +am ignorant; but of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more +than one witness of undoubted veracity. + +"Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many +years the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good +conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to +be of service to him; and on George Wickham, who was his godson, his +kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at +school, and afterwards at Cambridge--most important assistance, as his +own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have +been unable to give him a gentleman's education. My father was not only +fond of this young man's society, whose manner were always engaging; he +had also the highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be +his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is +many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different +manner. The vicious propensities--the want of principle, which he was +careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape +the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, +and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr. +Darcy could not have. Here again I shall give you pain--to what degree +you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham +has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from +unfolding his real character--it adds even another motive. + +"My excellent father died about five years ago; and his attachment to +Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady, that in his will he particularly +recommended it to me, to promote his advancement in the best manner +that his profession might allow--and if he took orders, desired that a +valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. There +was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. His own father did not long +survive mine, and within half a year from these events, Mr. Wickham +wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, +he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more +immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment, by which he +could not be benefited. He had some intention, he added, of studying +law, and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would +be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished, than believed +him to be sincere; but, at any rate, was perfectly ready to accede to +his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman; the +business was therefore soon settled--he resigned all claim to assistance +in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to +receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection +between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him +to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town I believe he chiefly +lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free +from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. +For about three years I heard little of him; but on the decease of the +incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to +me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured +me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He +had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely +resolved on being ordained, if I would present him to the living in +question--of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he was +well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not +have forgotten my revered father's intentions. You will hardly blame +me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every +repetition to it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of +his circumstances--and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me +to others as in his reproaches to myself. After this period every +appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he lived I know not. But +last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice. + +"I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, +and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold +to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your +secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to +the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself. +About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formed +for her in London; and last summer she went with the lady who presided +over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by +design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him +and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and +by her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, +whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to +her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and +to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her +excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add, that I owed +the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two +before the intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the +idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as +a father, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and +how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented +any public exposure; but I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place +immediately, and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr. +Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my sister's fortune, which +is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of +revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have +been complete indeed. + +"This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have +been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as +false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr. +Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood he +had imposed on you; but his success is not perhaps to be wondered +at. Ignorant as you previously were of everything concerning either, +detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in +your inclination. + +"You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night; but +I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to +be revealed. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more +particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who, from our +near relationship and constant intimacy, and, still more, as one of +the executors of my father's will, has been unavoidably acquainted +with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of _me_ +should make _my_ assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by +the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be +the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find some +opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the +morning. I will only add, God bless you. + +"FITZWILLIAM DARCY" + + + +Chapter 36 + + +If Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expect it to +contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of +its contents. But such as they were, it may well be supposed how eagerly +she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited. +Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. With amazement did +she first understand that he believed any apology to be in his power; +and steadfastly was she persuaded, that he could have no explanation +to give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal. With a strong +prejudice against everything he might say, she began his account of what +had happened at Netherfield. She read with an eagerness which hardly +left her power of comprehension, and from impatience of knowing what the +next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the sense of +the one before her eyes. His belief of her sister's insensibility she +instantly resolved to be false; and his account of the real, the worst +objections to the match, made her too angry to have any wish of doing +him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had done which satisfied +her; his style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all pride and +insolence. + +But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr. Wickham--when +she read with somewhat clearer attention a relation of events which, +if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth, and which +bore so alarming an affinity to his own history of himself--her +feelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition. +Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror, oppressed her. She wished +to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, "This must be false! +This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!"--and when she had +gone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing anything of the +last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she would not +regard it, that she would never look in it again. + +In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on +nothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute the letter +was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she +again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Wickham, and +commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence. +The account of his connection with the Pemberley family was exactly what +he had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, though +she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his own +words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to the +will, the difference was great. What Wickham had said of the living +was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it was +impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the +other; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did +not err. But when she read and re-read with the closest attention, the +particulars immediately following of Wickham's resigning all pretensions +to the living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as three +thousand pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She put down +the letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be +impartiality--deliberated on the probability of each statement--but with +little success. On both sides it was only assertion. Again she read +on; but every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she had +believed it impossible that any contrivance could so represent as to +render Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a +turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole. + +The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay at +Mr. Wickham's charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could +bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his +entrance into the ----shire Militia, in which he had engaged at the +persuasion of the young man who, on meeting him accidentally in town, +had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life +nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As +to his real character, had information been in her power, she had +never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had +established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried +to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of +integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of +Mr. Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those +casual errors under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. Darcy +had described as the idleness and vice of many years' continuance. But +no such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before +her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more +substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, and +the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After +pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued to +read. But, alas! the story which followed, of his designs on Miss +Darcy, received some confirmation from what had passed between Colonel +Fitzwilliam and herself only the morning before; and at last she was +referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel Fitzwilliam +himself--from whom she had previously received the information of his +near concern in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character she had no +reason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on applying to +him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application, and +at length wholly banished by the conviction that Mr. Darcy would never +have hazarded such a proposal, if he had not been well assured of his +cousin's corroboration. + +She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation +between Wickham and herself, in their first evening at Mr. Phillips's. +Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was _now_ +struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and +wondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting +himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions +with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear +of seeing Mr. Darcy--that Mr. Darcy might leave the country, but that +_he_ should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball +the very next week. She remembered also that, till the Netherfield +family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but +herself; but that after their removal it had been everywhere discussed; +that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's +character, though he had assured her that respect for the father would +always prevent his exposing the son. + +How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned! +His attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and +hatefully mercenary; and the mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer +the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything. +His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had +either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying +his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most +incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter +and fainter; and in farther justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not +but allow Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago asserted +his blamelessness in the affair; that proud and repulsive as were his +manners, she had never, in the whole course of their acquaintance--an +acquaintance which had latterly brought them much together, and given +her a sort of intimacy with his ways--seen anything that betrayed him +to be unprincipled or unjust--anything that spoke him of irreligious +or immoral habits; that among his own connections he was esteemed and +valued--that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother, and that +she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his sister as to +prove him capable of _some_ amiable feeling; that had his actions been +what Mr. Wickham represented them, so gross a violation of everything +right could hardly have been concealed from the world; and that +friendship between a person capable of it, and such an amiable man as +Mr. Bingley, was incomprehensible. + +She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham +could she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, +absurd. + +"How despicably I have acted!" she cried; "I, who have prided myself +on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have +often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified +my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this +discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could +not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my +folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect +of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted +prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were +concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself." + +From herself to Jane--from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a line +which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation +_there_ had appeared very insufficient, and she read it again. Widely +different was the effect of a second perusal. How could she deny that +credit to his assertions in one instance, which she had been obliged to +give in the other? He declared himself to be totally unsuspicious of her +sister's attachment; and she could not help remembering what Charlotte's +opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his +description of Jane. She felt that Jane's feelings, though fervent, were +little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air +and manner not often united with great sensibility. + +When she came to that part of the letter in which her family were +mentioned in terms of such mortifying, yet merited reproach, her sense +of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly +for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded as +having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first +disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind +than on hers. + +The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed, +but it could not console her for the contempt which had thus been +self-attracted by the rest of her family; and as she considered +that Jane's disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest +relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt +by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she +had ever known before. + +After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every +variety of thought--re-considering events, determining probabilities, +and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and +so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence, made +her at length return home; and she entered the house with the wish +of appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such +reflections as must make her unfit for conversation. + +She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from Rosings had each +called during her absence; Mr. Darcy, only for a few minutes, to take +leave--but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been sitting with them at least +an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her +till she could be found. Elizabeth could but just _affect_ concern +in missing him; she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no +longer an object; she could think only of her letter. + + + +Chapter 37 + + +The two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning, and Mr. Collins having +been in waiting near the lodges, to make them his parting obeisance, was +able to bring home the pleasing intelligence, of their appearing in very +good health, and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected, after the +melancholy scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings he then +hastened, to console Lady Catherine and her daughter; and on his return +brought back, with great satisfaction, a message from her ladyship, +importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of +having them all to dine with her. + +Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting that, had +she chosen it, she might by this time have been presented to her as +her future niece; nor could she think, without a smile, of what her +ladyship's indignation would have been. "What would she have said? how +would she have behaved?" were questions with which she amused herself. + +Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings party. "I assure +you, I feel it exceedingly," said Lady Catherine; "I believe no one +feels the loss of friends so much as I do. But I am particularly +attached to these young men, and know them to be so much attached to +me! They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The +dear Colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last; but Darcy +seemed to feel it most acutely, more, I think, than last year. His +attachment to Rosings certainly increases." + +Mr. Collins had a compliment, and an allusion to throw in here, which +were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter. + +Lady Catherine observed, after dinner, that Miss Bennet seemed out of +spirits, and immediately accounting for it by herself, by supposing that +she did not like to go home again so soon, she added: + +"But if that is the case, you must write to your mother and beg that +you may stay a little longer. Mrs. Collins will be very glad of your +company, I am sure." + +"I am much obliged to your ladyship for your kind invitation," replied +Elizabeth, "but it is not in my power to accept it. I must be in town +next Saturday." + +"Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected +you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came. There +can be no occasion for your going so soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly +spare you for another fortnight." + +"But my father cannot. He wrote last week to hurry my return." + +"Oh! your father of course may spare you, if your mother can. Daughters +are never of so much consequence to a father. And if you will stay +another _month_ complete, it will be in my power to take one of you as +far as London, for I am going there early in June, for a week; and as +Dawson does not object to the barouche-box, there will be very good room +for one of you--and indeed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I +should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you large." + +"You are all kindness, madam; but I believe we must abide by our +original plan." + +Lady Catherine seemed resigned. "Mrs. Collins, you must send a servant +with them. You know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea +of two young women travelling post by themselves. It is highly improper. +You must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in +the world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly +guarded and attended, according to their situation in life. When my +niece Georgiana went to Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her +having two men-servants go with her. Miss Darcy, the daughter of +Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could not have appeared with +propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those +things. You must send John with the young ladies, Mrs. Collins. I +am glad it occurred to me to mention it; for it would really be +discreditable to _you_ to let them go alone." + +"My uncle is to send a servant for us." + +"Oh! Your uncle! He keeps a man-servant, does he? I am very glad you +have somebody who thinks of these things. Where shall you change horses? +Oh! Bromley, of course. If you mention my name at the Bell, you will be +attended to." + +Lady Catherine had many other questions to ask respecting their journey, +and as she did not answer them all herself, attention was necessary, +which Elizabeth believed to be lucky for her; or, with a mind so +occupied, she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection must be +reserved for solitary hours; whenever she was alone, she gave way to it +as the greatest relief; and not a day went by without a solitary +walk, in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant +recollections. + +Mr. Darcy's letter she was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart. She +studied every sentence; and her feelings towards its writer were at +times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address, +she was still full of indignation; but when she considered how unjustly +she had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned against +herself; and his disappointed feelings became the object of compassion. +His attachment excited gratitude, his general character respect; but she +could not approve him; nor could she for a moment repent her refusal, +or feel the slightest inclination ever to see him again. In her own past +behaviour, there was a constant source of vexation and regret; and in +the unhappy defects of her family, a subject of yet heavier chagrin. +They were hopeless of remedy. Her father, contented with laughing at +them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his +youngest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far from right +herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. Elizabeth had frequently +united with Jane in an endeavour to check the imprudence of Catherine +and Lydia; but while they were supported by their mother's indulgence, +what chance could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-spirited, +irritable, and completely under Lydia's guidance, had been always +affronted by their advice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless, would +scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle, and vain. While +there was an officer in Meryton, they would flirt with him; and while +Meryton was within a walk of Longbourn, they would be going there +forever. + +Anxiety on Jane's behalf was another prevailing concern; and Mr. Darcy's +explanation, by restoring Bingley to all her former good opinion, +heightened the sense of what Jane had lost. His affection was proved +to have been sincere, and his conduct cleared of all blame, unless any +could attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his friend. How +grievous then was the thought that, of a situation so desirable in every +respect, so replete with advantage, so promising for happiness, Jane had +been deprived, by the folly and indecorum of her own family! + +When to these recollections was added the development of Wickham's +character, it may be easily believed that the happy spirits which had +seldom been depressed before, were now so much affected as to make it +almost impossible for her to appear tolerably cheerful. + +Their engagements at Rosings were as frequent during the last week of +her stay as they had been at first. The very last evening was spent +there; and her ladyship again inquired minutely into the particulars of +their journey, gave them directions as to the best method of packing, +and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right +way, that Maria thought herself obliged, on her return, to undo all the +work of the morning, and pack her trunk afresh. + +When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension, wished them +a good journey, and invited them to come to Hunsford again next year; +and Miss de Bourgh exerted herself so far as to curtsey and hold out her +hand to both. + + + +Chapter 38 + + +On Saturday morning Elizabeth and Mr. Collins met for breakfast a few +minutes before the others appeared; and he took the opportunity of +paying the parting civilities which he deemed indispensably necessary. + +"I know not, Miss Elizabeth," said he, "whether Mrs. Collins has yet +expressed her sense of your kindness in coming to us; but I am very +certain you will not leave the house without receiving her thanks for +it. The favor of your company has been much felt, I assure you. We +know how little there is to tempt anyone to our humble abode. Our plain +manner of living, our small rooms and few domestics, and the little we +see of the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady like +yourself; but I hope you will believe us grateful for the condescension, +and that we have done everything in our power to prevent your spending +your time unpleasantly." + +Elizabeth was eager with her thanks and assurances of happiness. She +had spent six weeks with great enjoyment; and the pleasure of being with +Charlotte, and the kind attentions she had received, must make _her_ +feel the obliged. Mr. Collins was gratified, and with a more smiling +solemnity replied: + +"It gives me great pleasure to hear that you have passed your time not +disagreeably. We have certainly done our best; and most fortunately +having it in our power to introduce you to very superior society, and, +from our connection with Rosings, the frequent means of varying the +humble home scene, I think we may flatter ourselves that your Hunsford +visit cannot have been entirely irksome. Our situation with regard to +Lady Catherine's family is indeed the sort of extraordinary advantage +and blessing which few can boast. You see on what a footing we are. You +see how continually we are engaged there. In truth I must acknowledge +that, with all the disadvantages of this humble parsonage, I should +not think anyone abiding in it an object of compassion, while they are +sharers of our intimacy at Rosings." + +Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings; and he was +obliged to walk about the room, while Elizabeth tried to unite civility +and truth in a few short sentences. + +"You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us into +Hertfordshire, my dear cousin. I flatter myself at least that you will +be able to do so. Lady Catherine's great attentions to Mrs. Collins you +have been a daily witness of; and altogether I trust it does not appear +that your friend has drawn an unfortunate--but on this point it will be +as well to be silent. Only let me assure you, my dear Miss Elizabeth, +that I can from my heart most cordially wish you equal felicity in +marriage. My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of +thinking. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of +character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each +other." + +Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was +the case, and with equal sincerity could add, that she firmly believed +and rejoiced in his domestic comforts. She was not sorry, however, to +have the recital of them interrupted by the lady from whom they sprang. +Poor Charlotte! it was melancholy to leave her to such society! But she +had chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently regretting that +her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion. Her +home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and all their +dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms. + +At length the chaise arrived, the trunks were fastened on, the parcels +placed within, and it was pronounced to be ready. After an affectionate +parting between the friends, Elizabeth was attended to the carriage by +Mr. Collins, and as they walked down the garden he was commissioning her +with his best respects to all her family, not forgetting his thanks +for the kindness he had received at Longbourn in the winter, and his +compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, though unknown. He then handed her +in, Maria followed, and the door was on the point of being closed, +when he suddenly reminded them, with some consternation, that they had +hitherto forgotten to leave any message for the ladies at Rosings. + +"But," he added, "you will of course wish to have your humble respects +delivered to them, with your grateful thanks for their kindness to you +while you have been here." + +Elizabeth made no objection; the door was then allowed to be shut, and +the carriage drove off. + +"Good gracious!" cried Maria, after a few minutes' silence, "it seems +but a day or two since we first came! and yet how many things have +happened!" + +"A great many indeed," said her companion with a sigh. + +"We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice! +How much I shall have to tell!" + +Elizabeth added privately, "And how much I shall have to conceal!" + +Their journey was performed without much conversation, or any alarm; and +within four hours of their leaving Hunsford they reached Mr. Gardiner's +house, where they were to remain a few days. + +Jane looked well, and Elizabeth had little opportunity of studying her +spirits, amidst the various engagements which the kindness of her +aunt had reserved for them. But Jane was to go home with her, and at +Longbourn there would be leisure enough for observation. + +It was not without an effort, meanwhile, that she could wait even for +Longbourn, before she told her sister of Mr. Darcy's proposals. To know +that she had the power of revealing what would so exceedingly astonish +Jane, and must, at the same time, so highly gratify whatever of her own +vanity she had not yet been able to reason away, was such a temptation +to openness as nothing could have conquered but the state of indecision +in which she remained as to the extent of what she should communicate; +and her fear, if she once entered on the subject, of being hurried +into repeating something of Bingley which might only grieve her sister +further. + + + +Chapter 39 + + +It was the second week in May, in which the three young ladies set out +together from Gracechurch Street for the town of ----, in Hertfordshire; +and, as they drew near the appointed inn where Mr. Bennet's carriage +was to meet them, they quickly perceived, in token of the coachman's +punctuality, both Kitty and Lydia looking out of a dining-room upstairs. +These two girls had been above an hour in the place, happily employed +in visiting an opposite milliner, watching the sentinel on guard, and +dressing a salad and cucumber. + +After welcoming their sisters, they triumphantly displayed a table set +out with such cold meat as an inn larder usually affords, exclaiming, +"Is not this nice? Is not this an agreeable surprise?" + +"And we mean to treat you all," added Lydia, "but you must lend us the +money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there." Then, showing +her purchases--"Look here, I have bought this bonnet. I do not think +it is very pretty; but I thought I might as well buy it as not. I shall +pull it to pieces as soon as I get home, and see if I can make it up any +better." + +And when her sisters abused it as ugly, she added, with perfect +unconcern, "Oh! but there were two or three much uglier in the shop; and +when I have bought some prettier-coloured satin to trim it with fresh, I +think it will be very tolerable. Besides, it will not much signify what +one wears this summer, after the ----shire have left Meryton, and they +are going in a fortnight." + +"Are they indeed!" cried Elizabeth, with the greatest satisfaction. + +"They are going to be encamped near Brighton; and I do so want papa to +take us all there for the summer! It would be such a delicious scheme; +and I dare say would hardly cost anything at all. Mamma would like to +go too of all things! Only think what a miserable summer else we shall +have!" + +"Yes," thought Elizabeth, "_that_ would be a delightful scheme indeed, +and completely do for us at once. Good Heaven! Brighton, and a whole +campful of soldiers, to us, who have been overset already by one poor +regiment of militia, and the monthly balls of Meryton!" + +"Now I have got some news for you," said Lydia, as they sat down at +table. "What do you think? It is excellent news--capital news--and about +a certain person we all like!" + +Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other, and the waiter was told he need +not stay. Lydia laughed, and said: + +"Aye, that is just like your formality and discretion. You thought the +waiter must not hear, as if he cared! I dare say he often hears worse +things said than I am going to say. But he is an ugly fellow! I am glad +he is gone. I never saw such a long chin in my life. Well, but now for +my news; it is about dear Wickham; too good for the waiter, is it not? +There is no danger of Wickham's marrying Mary King. There's for you! She +is gone down to her uncle at Liverpool: gone to stay. Wickham is safe." + +"And Mary King is safe!" added Elizabeth; "safe from a connection +imprudent as to fortune." + +"She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him." + +"But I hope there is no strong attachment on either side," said Jane. + +"I am sure there is not on _his_. I will answer for it, he never cared +three straws about her--who could about such a nasty little freckled +thing?" + +Elizabeth was shocked to think that, however incapable of such +coarseness of _expression_ herself, the coarseness of the _sentiment_ +was little other than her own breast had harboured and fancied liberal! + +As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid, the carriage was +ordered; and after some contrivance, the whole party, with all their +boxes, work-bags, and parcels, and the unwelcome addition of Kitty's and +Lydia's purchases, were seated in it. + +"How nicely we are all crammed in," cried Lydia. "I am glad I bought my +bonnet, if it is only for the fun of having another bandbox! Well, now +let us be quite comfortable and snug, and talk and laugh all the way +home. And in the first place, let us hear what has happened to you all +since you went away. Have you seen any pleasant men? Have you had any +flirting? I was in great hopes that one of you would have got a husband +before you came back. Jane will be quite an old maid soon, I declare. +She is almost three-and-twenty! Lord, how ashamed I should be of not +being married before three-and-twenty! My aunt Phillips wants you so to +get husbands, you can't think. She says Lizzy had better have taken Mr. +Collins; but _I_ do not think there would have been any fun in it. Lord! +how I should like to be married before any of you; and then I would +chaperon you about to all the balls. Dear me! we had such a good piece +of fun the other day at Colonel Forster's. Kitty and me were to spend +the day there, and Mrs. Forster promised to have a little dance in the +evening; (by the bye, Mrs. Forster and me are _such_ friends!) and so +she asked the two Harringtons to come, but Harriet was ill, and so Pen +was forced to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did? We +dressed up Chamberlayne in woman's clothes on purpose to pass for a +lady, only think what fun! Not a soul knew of it, but Colonel and Mrs. +Forster, and Kitty and me, except my aunt, for we were forced to borrow +one of her gowns; and you cannot imagine how well he looked! When Denny, +and Wickham, and Pratt, and two or three more of the men came in, they +did not know him in the least. Lord! how I laughed! and so did Mrs. +Forster. I thought I should have died. And _that_ made the men suspect +something, and then they soon found out what was the matter." + +With such kinds of histories of their parties and good jokes, did +Lydia, assisted by Kitty's hints and additions, endeavour to amuse her +companions all the way to Longbourn. Elizabeth listened as little as she +could, but there was no escaping the frequent mention of Wickham's name. + +Their reception at home was most kind. Mrs. Bennet rejoiced to see Jane +in undiminished beauty; and more than once during dinner did Mr. Bennet +say voluntarily to Elizabeth: + +"I am glad you are come back, Lizzy." + +Their party in the dining-room was large, for almost all the Lucases +came to meet Maria and hear the news; and various were the subjects that +occupied them: Lady Lucas was inquiring of Maria, after the welfare and +poultry of her eldest daughter; Mrs. Bennet was doubly engaged, on one +hand collecting an account of the present fashions from Jane, who sat +some way below her, and, on the other, retailing them all to the younger +Lucases; and Lydia, in a voice rather louder than any other person's, +was enumerating the various pleasures of the morning to anybody who +would hear her. + +"Oh! Mary," said she, "I wish you had gone with us, for we had such fun! +As we went along, Kitty and I drew up the blinds, and pretended there +was nobody in the coach; and I should have gone so all the way, if Kitty +had not been sick; and when we got to the George, I do think we behaved +very handsomely, for we treated the other three with the nicest cold +luncheon in the world, and if you would have gone, we would have treated +you too. And then when we came away it was such fun! I thought we never +should have got into the coach. I was ready to die of laughter. And then +we were so merry all the way home! we talked and laughed so loud, that +anybody might have heard us ten miles off!" + +To this Mary very gravely replied, "Far be it from me, my dear sister, +to depreciate such pleasures! They would doubtless be congenial with the +generality of female minds. But I confess they would have no charms for +_me_--I should infinitely prefer a book." + +But of this answer Lydia heard not a word. She seldom listened to +anybody for more than half a minute, and never attended to Mary at all. + +In the afternoon Lydia was urgent with the rest of the girls to walk +to Meryton, and to see how everybody went on; but Elizabeth steadily +opposed the scheme. It should not be said that the Miss Bennets could +not be at home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers. +There was another reason too for her opposition. She dreaded seeing Mr. +Wickham again, and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible. The +comfort to _her_ of the regiment's approaching removal was indeed beyond +expression. In a fortnight they were to go--and once gone, she hoped +there could be nothing more to plague her on his account. + +She had not been many hours at home before she found that the Brighton +scheme, of which Lydia had given them a hint at the inn, was under +frequent discussion between her parents. Elizabeth saw directly that her +father had not the smallest intention of yielding; but his answers were +at the same time so vague and equivocal, that her mother, though often +disheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last. + + + +Chapter 40 + + +Elizabeth's impatience to acquaint Jane with what had happened could +no longer be overcome; and at length, resolving to suppress every +particular in which her sister was concerned, and preparing her to be +surprised, she related to her the next morning the chief of the scene +between Mr. Darcy and herself. + +Miss Bennet's astonishment was soon lessened by the strong sisterly +partiality which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly +natural; and all surprise was shortly lost in other feelings. She was +sorry that Mr. Darcy should have delivered his sentiments in a manner so +little suited to recommend them; but still more was she grieved for the +unhappiness which her sister's refusal must have given him. + +"His being so sure of succeeding was wrong," said she, "and certainly +ought not to have appeared; but consider how much it must increase his +disappointment!" + +"Indeed," replied Elizabeth, "I am heartily sorry for him; but he has +other feelings, which will probably soon drive away his regard for me. +You do not blame me, however, for refusing him?" + +"Blame you! Oh, no." + +"But you blame me for having spoken so warmly of Wickham?" + +"No--I do not know that you were wrong in saying what you did." + +"But you _will_ know it, when I tell you what happened the very next +day." + +She then spoke of the letter, repeating the whole of its contents as far +as they concerned George Wickham. What a stroke was this for poor Jane! +who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that +so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind, as was here +collected in one individual. Nor was Darcy's vindication, though +grateful to her feelings, capable of consoling her for such discovery. +Most earnestly did she labour to prove the probability of error, and +seek to clear the one without involving the other. + +"This will not do," said Elizabeth; "you never will be able to make both +of them good for anything. Take your choice, but you must be satisfied +with only one. There is but such a quantity of merit between them; just +enough to make one good sort of man; and of late it has been shifting +about pretty much. For my part, I am inclined to believe it all Darcy's; +but you shall do as you choose." + +It was some time, however, before a smile could be extorted from Jane. + +"I do not know when I have been more shocked," said she. "Wickham so +very bad! It is almost past belief. And poor Mr. Darcy! Dear Lizzy, only +consider what he must have suffered. Such a disappointment! and with the +knowledge of your ill opinion, too! and having to relate such a thing +of his sister! It is really too distressing. I am sure you must feel it +so." + +"Oh! no, my regret and compassion are all done away by seeing you so +full of both. I know you will do him such ample justice, that I am +growing every moment more unconcerned and indifferent. Your profusion +makes me saving; and if you lament over him much longer, my heart will +be as light as a feather." + +"Poor Wickham! there is such an expression of goodness in his +countenance! such an openness and gentleness in his manner!" + +"There certainly was some great mismanagement in the education of those +two young men. One has got all the goodness, and the other all the +appearance of it." + +"I never thought Mr. Darcy so deficient in the _appearance_ of it as you +used to do." + +"And yet I meant to be uncommonly clever in taking so decided a dislike +to him, without any reason. It is such a spur to one's genius, such an +opening for wit, to have a dislike of that kind. One may be continually +abusive without saying anything just; but one cannot always be laughing +at a man without now and then stumbling on something witty." + +"Lizzy, when you first read that letter, I am sure you could not treat +the matter as you do now." + +"Indeed, I could not. I was uncomfortable enough, I may say unhappy. And +with no one to speak to about what I felt, no Jane to comfort me and say +that I had not been so very weak and vain and nonsensical as I knew I +had! Oh! how I wanted you!" + +"How unfortunate that you should have used such very strong expressions +in speaking of Wickham to Mr. Darcy, for now they _do_ appear wholly +undeserved." + +"Certainly. But the misfortune of speaking with bitterness is a most +natural consequence of the prejudices I had been encouraging. There +is one point on which I want your advice. I want to be told whether I +ought, or ought not, to make our acquaintances in general understand +Wickham's character." + +Miss Bennet paused a little, and then replied, "Surely there can be no +occasion for exposing him so dreadfully. What is your opinion?" + +"That it ought not to be attempted. Mr. Darcy has not authorised me +to make his communication public. On the contrary, every particular +relative to his sister was meant to be kept as much as possible to +myself; and if I endeavour to undeceive people as to the rest of his +conduct, who will believe me? The general prejudice against Mr. Darcy +is so violent, that it would be the death of half the good people in +Meryton to attempt to place him in an amiable light. I am not equal +to it. Wickham will soon be gone; and therefore it will not signify to +anyone here what he really is. Some time hence it will be all found out, +and then we may laugh at their stupidity in not knowing it before. At +present I will say nothing about it." + +"You are quite right. To have his errors made public might ruin him for +ever. He is now, perhaps, sorry for what he has done, and anxious to +re-establish a character. We must not make him desperate." + +The tumult of Elizabeth's mind was allayed by this conversation. She had +got rid of two of the secrets which had weighed on her for a fortnight, +and was certain of a willing listener in Jane, whenever she might wish +to talk again of either. But there was still something lurking behind, +of which prudence forbade the disclosure. She dared not relate the other +half of Mr. Darcy's letter, nor explain to her sister how sincerely she +had been valued by her friend. Here was knowledge in which no one +could partake; and she was sensible that nothing less than a perfect +understanding between the parties could justify her in throwing off +this last encumbrance of mystery. "And then," said she, "if that very +improbable event should ever take place, I shall merely be able to +tell what Bingley may tell in a much more agreeable manner himself. The +liberty of communication cannot be mine till it has lost all its value!" + +She was now, on being settled at home, at leisure to observe the real +state of her sister's spirits. Jane was not happy. She still cherished a +very tender affection for Bingley. Having never even fancied herself +in love before, her regard had all the warmth of first attachment, +and, from her age and disposition, greater steadiness than most first +attachments often boast; and so fervently did she value his remembrance, +and prefer him to every other man, that all her good sense, and all her +attention to the feelings of her friends, were requisite to check the +indulgence of those regrets which must have been injurious to her own +health and their tranquillity. + +"Well, Lizzy," said Mrs. Bennet one day, "what is your opinion _now_ of +this sad business of Jane's? For my part, I am determined never to speak +of it again to anybody. I told my sister Phillips so the other day. But +I cannot find out that Jane saw anything of him in London. Well, he is +a very undeserving young man--and I do not suppose there's the least +chance in the world of her ever getting him now. There is no talk of +his coming to Netherfield again in the summer; and I have inquired of +everybody, too, who is likely to know." + +"I do not believe he will ever live at Netherfield any more." + +"Oh well! it is just as he chooses. Nobody wants him to come. Though I +shall always say he used my daughter extremely ill; and if I was her, I +would not have put up with it. Well, my comfort is, I am sure Jane will +die of a broken heart; and then he will be sorry for what he has done." + +But as Elizabeth could not receive comfort from any such expectation, +she made no answer. + +"Well, Lizzy," continued her mother, soon afterwards, "and so the +Collinses live very comfortable, do they? Well, well, I only hope +it will last. And what sort of table do they keep? Charlotte is an +excellent manager, I dare say. If she is half as sharp as her +mother, she is saving enough. There is nothing extravagant in _their_ +housekeeping, I dare say." + +"No, nothing at all." + +"A great deal of good management, depend upon it. Yes, yes. _they_ will +take care not to outrun their income. _They_ will never be distressed +for money. Well, much good may it do them! And so, I suppose, they often +talk of having Longbourn when your father is dead. They look upon it as +quite their own, I dare say, whenever that happens." + +"It was a subject which they could not mention before me." + +"No; it would have been strange if they had; but I make no doubt they +often talk of it between themselves. Well, if they can be easy with an +estate that is not lawfully their own, so much the better. I should be +ashamed of having one that was only entailed on me." + + + +Chapter 41 + + +The first week of their return was soon gone. The second began. It was +the last of the regiment's stay in Meryton, and all the young ladies +in the neighbourhood were drooping apace. The dejection was almost +universal. The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink, +and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very +frequently were they reproached for this insensibility by Kitty and +Lydia, whose own misery was extreme, and who could not comprehend such +hard-heartedness in any of the family. + +"Good Heaven! what is to become of us? What are we to do?" would they +often exclaim in the bitterness of woe. "How can you be smiling so, +Lizzy?" + +Their affectionate mother shared all their grief; she remembered what +she had herself endured on a similar occasion, five-and-twenty years +ago. + +"I am sure," said she, "I cried for two days together when Colonel +Miller's regiment went away. I thought I should have broken my heart." + +"I am sure I shall break _mine_," said Lydia. + +"If one could but go to Brighton!" observed Mrs. Bennet. + +"Oh, yes!--if one could but go to Brighton! But papa is so +disagreeable." + +"A little sea-bathing would set me up forever." + +"And my aunt Phillips is sure it would do _me_ a great deal of good," +added Kitty. + +Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through +Longbourn House. Elizabeth tried to be diverted by them; but all sense +of pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy's +objections; and never had she been so much disposed to pardon his +interference in the views of his friend. + +But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly cleared away; for she +received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of +the regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a +very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humour +and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, and out of +their _three_ months' acquaintance they had been intimate _two_. + +The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, +the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely +to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia +flew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone's +congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever; +whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repined at her fate +in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish. + +"I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask _me_ as well as Lydia," +said she, "Though I am _not_ her particular friend. I have just as much +right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older." + +In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable, and Jane to make +her resigned. As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from +exciting in her the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia, that she +considered it as the death warrant of all possibility of common sense +for the latter; and detestable as such a step must make her were it +known, she could not help secretly advising her father not to let her +go. She represented to him all the improprieties of Lydia's general +behaviour, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship of +such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more +imprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must +be greater than at home. He heard her attentively, and then said: + +"Lydia will never be easy until she has exposed herself in some public +place or other, and we can never expect her to do it with so +little expense or inconvenience to her family as under the present +circumstances." + +"If you were aware," said Elizabeth, "of the very great disadvantage to +us all which must arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and +imprudent manner--nay, which has already arisen from it, I am sure you +would judge differently in the affair." + +"Already arisen?" repeated Mr. Bennet. "What, has she frightened away +some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzy! But do not be cast down. Such +squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity +are not worth a regret. Come, let me see the list of pitiful fellows who +have been kept aloof by Lydia's folly." + +"Indeed you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent. It is not +of particular, but of general evils, which I am now complaining. Our +importance, our respectability in the world must be affected by the +wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark +Lydia's character. Excuse me, for I must speak plainly. If you, my dear +father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and +of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of +her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character +will be fixed, and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt +that ever made herself or her family ridiculous; a flirt, too, in the +worst and meanest degree of flirtation; without any attraction beyond +youth and a tolerable person; and, from the ignorance and emptiness +of her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal +contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger +Kitty also is comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vain, +ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled! Oh! my dear father, can you +suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever +they are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in the +disgrace?" + +Mr. Bennet saw that her whole heart was in the subject, and +affectionately taking her hand said in reply: + +"Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known +you must be respected and valued; and you will not appear to less +advantage for having a couple of--or I may say, three--very silly +sisters. We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to +Brighton. Let her go, then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will +keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an +object of prey to anybody. At Brighton she will be of less importance +even as a common flirt than she has been here. The officers will find +women better worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being +there may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow +many degrees worse, without authorising us to lock her up for the rest +of her life." + +With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own opinion +continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not +in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on +them. She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret +over unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her +disposition. + +Had Lydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with her +father, their indignation would hardly have found expression in their +united volubility. In Lydia's imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised +every possibility of earthly happiness. She saw, with the creative eye +of fancy, the streets of that gay bathing-place covered with officers. +She saw herself the object of attention, to tens and to scores of them +at present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp--its tents +stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young +and the gay, and dazzling with scarlet; and, to complete the view, she +saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six +officers at once. + +Had she known her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and such +realities as these, what would have been her sensations? They could have +been understood only by her mother, who might have felt nearly the same. +Lydia's going to Brighton was all that consoled her for her melancholy +conviction of her husband's never intending to go there himself. + +But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed; and their raptures +continued, with little intermission, to the very day of Lydia's leaving +home. + +Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been +frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty +well over; the agitations of formal partiality entirely so. She had even +learnt to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted +her, an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present +behaviour to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure, +for the inclination he soon testified of renewing those intentions which +had marked the early part of their acquaintance could only serve, after +what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in +finding herself thus selected as the object of such idle and frivolous +gallantry; and while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the +reproof contained in his believing, that however long, and for whatever +cause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified, +and her preference secured at any time by their renewal. + +On the very last day of the regiment's remaining at Meryton, he dined, +with other of the officers, at Longbourn; and so little was Elizabeth +disposed to part from him in good humour, that on his making some +inquiry as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford, she +mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam's and Mr. Darcy's having both spent three +weeks at Rosings, and asked him, if he was acquainted with the former. + +He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed; but with a moment's +recollection and a returning smile, replied, that he had formerly seen +him often; and, after observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man, +asked her how she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favour. +With an air of indifference he soon afterwards added: + +"How long did you say he was at Rosings?" + +"Nearly three weeks." + +"And you saw him frequently?" + +"Yes, almost every day." + +"His manners are very different from his cousin's." + +"Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves upon acquaintance." + +"Indeed!" cried Mr. Wickham with a look which did not escape her. "And +pray, may I ask?--" But checking himself, he added, in a gayer tone, "Is +it in address that he improves? Has he deigned to add aught of civility +to his ordinary style?--for I dare not hope," he continued in a lower +and more serious tone, "that he is improved in essentials." + +"Oh, no!" said Elizabeth. "In essentials, I believe, he is very much +what he ever was." + +While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to +rejoice over her words, or to distrust their meaning. There was a +something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive +and anxious attention, while she added: + +"When I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that +his mind or his manners were in a state of improvement, but that, from +knowing him better, his disposition was better understood." + +Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated +look; for a few minutes he was silent, till, shaking off his +embarrassment, he turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of +accents: + +"You, who so well know my feeling towards Mr. Darcy, will readily +comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume +even the _appearance_ of what is right. His pride, in that direction, +may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must only +deter him from such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I only +fear that the sort of cautiousness to which you, I imagine, have been +alluding, is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good +opinion and judgement he stands much in awe. His fear of her has always +operated, I know, when they were together; and a good deal is to be +imputed to his wish of forwarding the match with Miss de Bourgh, which I +am certain he has very much at heart." + +Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a +slight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on +the old subject of his grievances, and she was in no humour to indulge +him. The rest of the evening passed with the _appearance_, on his +side, of usual cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to distinguish +Elizabeth; and they parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a +mutual desire of never meeting again. + +When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Meryton, +from whence they were to set out early the next morning. The separation +between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic. Kitty was the +only one who shed tears; but she did weep from vexation and envy. Mrs. +Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter, +and impressive in her injunctions that she should not miss the +opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible--advice which +there was every reason to believe would be well attended to; and in +the clamorous happiness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more +gentle adieus of her sisters were uttered without being heard. + + + +Chapter 42 + + +Had Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could +not have formed a very pleasing opinion of conjugal felicity or domestic +comfort. Her father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance +of good humour which youth and beauty generally give, had married a +woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in +their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect, +esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever; and all his views +of domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was not of +a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own +imprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too often +console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was fond of +the country and of books; and from these tastes had arisen his principal +enjoyments. To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted, than as +her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement. This is not +the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his +wife; but where other powers of entertainment are wanting, the true +philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given. + +Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her +father's behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; but +respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of +herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to +banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation +and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own +children, was so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt so +strongly as now the disadvantages which must attend the children of so +unsuitable a marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising +from so ill-judged a direction of talents; talents, which, rightly used, +might at least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, even +if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife. + +When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's departure she found little +other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties +abroad were less varied than before, and at home she had a mother and +sister whose constant repinings at the dullness of everything around +them threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and, though Kitty +might in time regain her natural degree of sense, since the disturbers +of her brain were removed, her other sister, from whose disposition +greater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all +her folly and assurance by a situation of such double danger as a +watering-place and a camp. Upon the whole, therefore, she found, what +has been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had been +looking with impatient desire did not, in taking place, bring all the +satisfaction she had promised herself. It was consequently necessary to +name some other period for the commencement of actual felicity--to have +some other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by +again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the +present, and prepare for another disappointment. Her tour to the Lakes +was now the object of her happiest thoughts; it was her best consolation +for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentedness of her mother +and Kitty made inevitable; and could she have included Jane in the +scheme, every part of it would have been perfect. + +"But it is fortunate," thought she, "that I have something to wish for. +Were the whole arrangement complete, my disappointment would be certain. +But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in my +sister's absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of +pleasure realised. A scheme of which every part promises delight can +never be successful; and general disappointment is only warded off by +the defence of some little peculiar vexation." + +When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutely +to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long expected, and +always very short. Those to her mother contained little else than that +they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers +had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as +made her quite wild; that she had a new gown, or a new parasol, which +she would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in a +violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster called her, and they were going off to +the camp; and from her correspondence with her sister, there was still +less to be learnt--for her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were +much too full of lines under the words to be made public. + +After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, good +humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything wore +a happier aspect. The families who had been in town for the winter came +back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Mrs. Bennet +was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and, by the middle of +June, Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton without +tears; an event of such happy promise as to make Elizabeth hope that by +the following Christmas she might be so tolerably reasonable as not to +mention an officer above once a day, unless, by some cruel and malicious +arrangement at the War Office, another regiment should be quartered in +Meryton. + +The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast +approaching, and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter +arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and +curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from +setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again +within a month, and as that left too short a period for them to go so +far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with +the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up +the Lakes, and substitute a more contracted tour, and, according to the +present plan, were to go no farther northwards than Derbyshire. In that +county there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three +weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The +town where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where +they were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of +her curiosity as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth, +Dovedale, or the Peak. + +Elizabeth was excessively disappointed; she had set her heart on seeing +the Lakes, and still thought there might have been time enough. But it +was her business to be satisfied--and certainly her temper to be happy; +and all was soon right again. + +With the mention of Derbyshire there were many ideas connected. It was +impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its +owner. "But surely," said she, "I may enter his county without impunity, +and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me." + +The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away +before her uncle and aunt's arrival. But they did pass away, and Mr. +and Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did at length appear at +Longbourn. The children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two +younger boys, were to be left under the particular care of their +cousin Jane, who was the general favourite, and whose steady sense and +sweetness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to them in every +way--teaching them, playing with them, and loving them. + +The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn, and set off the +next morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement. +One enjoyment was certain--that of suitableness of companions; +a suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear +inconveniences--cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure--and affection +and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were +disappointments abroad. + +It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire, +nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route thither +lay; Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, Birmingham, etc. are +sufficiently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present +concern. To the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs. Gardiner's +former residence, and where she had lately learned some acquaintance +still remained, they bent their steps, after having seen all the +principal wonders of the country; and within five miles of Lambton, +Elizabeth found from her aunt that Pemberley was situated. It was not +in their direct road, nor more than a mile or two out of it. In +talking over their route the evening before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed +an inclination to see the place again. Mr. Gardiner declared his +willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation. + +"My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard +so much?" said her aunt; "a place, too, with which so many of your +acquaintances are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you +know." + +Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at +Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She +must own that she was tired of seeing great houses; after going over so +many, she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains. + +Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. "If it were merely a fine house +richly furnished," said she, "I should not care about it myself; but +the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the +country." + +Elizabeth said no more--but her mind could not acquiesce. The +possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly +occurred. It would be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea, and +thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt than to run such +a risk. But against this there were objections; and she finally resolved +that it could be the last resource, if her private inquiries to the +absence of the family were unfavourably answered. + +Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid +whether Pemberley were not a very fine place? what was the name of its +proprietor? and, with no little alarm, whether the family were down for +the summer? A most welcome negative followed the last question--and her +alarms now being removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of +curiosity to see the house herself; and when the subject was revived the +next morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, and +with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike +to the scheme. To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go. + + + +Chapter 43 + + +Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of +Pemberley Woods with some perturbation; and when at length they turned +in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter. + +The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They +entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through +a beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent. + +Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired +every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for +half-a-mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable +eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by +Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which +the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome stone +building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of +high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was +swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks +were neither formal nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She +had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural +beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were +all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt that +to be mistress of Pemberley might be something! + +They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and, +while examining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehension of +meeting its owner returned. She dreaded lest the chambermaid had been +mistaken. On applying to see the place, they were admitted into the +hall; and Elizabeth, as they waited for the housekeeper, had leisure to +wonder at her being where she was. + +The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking elderly woman, much less +fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They +followed her into the dining-parlour. It was a large, well proportioned +room, handsomely fitted up. Elizabeth, after slightly surveying it, went +to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, which +they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, +was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and +she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its +banks and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it, +with delight. As they passed into other rooms these objects were taking +different positions; but from every window there were beauties to be +seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to +the fortune of its proprietor; but Elizabeth saw, with admiration of +his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of +splendour, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings. + +"And of this place," thought she, "I might have been mistress! With +these rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of +viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own, and +welcomed to them as visitors my uncle and aunt. But no,"--recollecting +herself--"that could never be; my uncle and aunt would have been lost to +me; I should not have been allowed to invite them." + +This was a lucky recollection--it saved her from something very like +regret. + +She longed to inquire of the housekeeper whether her master was really +absent, but had not the courage for it. At length however, the question +was asked by her uncle; and she turned away with alarm, while Mrs. +Reynolds replied that he was, adding, "But we expect him to-morrow, with +a large party of friends." How rejoiced was Elizabeth that their own +journey had not by any circumstance been delayed a day! + +Her aunt now called her to look at a picture. She approached and saw the +likeness of Mr. Wickham, suspended, amongst several other miniatures, +over the mantelpiece. Her aunt asked her, smilingly, how she liked it. +The housekeeper came forward, and told them it was a picture of a young +gentleman, the son of her late master's steward, who had been brought +up by him at his own expense. "He is now gone into the army," she added; +"but I am afraid he has turned out very wild." + +Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece with a smile, but Elizabeth could not +return it. + +"And that," said Mrs. Reynolds, pointing to another of the miniatures, +"is my master--and very like him. It was drawn at the same time as the +other--about eight years ago." + +"I have heard much of your master's fine person," said Mrs. Gardiner, +looking at the picture; "it is a handsome face. But, Lizzy, you can tell +us whether it is like or not." + +Mrs. Reynolds respect for Elizabeth seemed to increase on this +intimation of her knowing her master. + +"Does that young lady know Mr. Darcy?" + +Elizabeth coloured, and said: "A little." + +"And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma'am?" + +"Yes, very handsome." + +"I am sure I know none so handsome; but in the gallery upstairs you +will see a finer, larger picture of him than this. This room was my late +master's favourite room, and these miniatures are just as they used to +be then. He was very fond of them." + +This accounted to Elizabeth for Mr. Wickham's being among them. + +Mrs. Reynolds then directed their attention to one of Miss Darcy, drawn +when she was only eight years old. + +"And is Miss Darcy as handsome as her brother?" said Mrs. Gardiner. + +"Oh! yes--the handsomest young lady that ever was seen; and so +accomplished!--She plays and sings all day long. In the next room is +a new instrument just come down for her--a present from my master; she +comes here to-morrow with him." + +Mr. Gardiner, whose manners were very easy and pleasant, encouraged her +communicativeness by his questions and remarks; Mrs. Reynolds, either +by pride or attachment, had evidently great pleasure in talking of her +master and his sister. + +"Is your master much at Pemberley in the course of the year?" + +"Not so much as I could wish, sir; but I dare say he may spend half his +time here; and Miss Darcy is always down for the summer months." + +"Except," thought Elizabeth, "when she goes to Ramsgate." + +"If your master would marry, you might see more of him." + +"Yes, sir; but I do not know when _that_ will be. I do not know who is +good enough for him." + +Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Elizabeth could not help saying, "It is +very much to his credit, I am sure, that you should think so." + +"I say no more than the truth, and everybody will say that knows him," +replied the other. Elizabeth thought this was going pretty far; and she +listened with increasing astonishment as the housekeeper added, "I have +never known a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever +since he was four years old." + +This was praise, of all others most extraordinary, most opposite to her +ideas. That he was not a good-tempered man had been her firmest opinion. +Her keenest attention was awakened; she longed to hear more, and was +grateful to her uncle for saying: + +"There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in +having such a master." + +"Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go through the world, I could +not meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are +good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and +he was always the sweetest-tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the +world." + +Elizabeth almost stared at her. "Can this be Mr. Darcy?" thought she. + +"His father was an excellent man," said Mrs. Gardiner. + +"Yes, ma'am, that he was indeed; and his son will be just like him--just +as affable to the poor." + +Elizabeth listened, wondered, doubted, and was impatient for more. Mrs. +Reynolds could interest her on no other point. She related the subjects +of the pictures, the dimensions of the rooms, and the price of the +furniture, in vain, Mr. Gardiner, highly amused by the kind of family +prejudice to which he attributed her excessive commendation of her +master, soon led again to the subject; and she dwelt with energy on his +many merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase. + +"He is the best landlord, and the best master," said she, "that ever +lived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but +themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give +him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw +anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away +like other young men." + +"In what an amiable light does this place him!" thought Elizabeth. + +"This fine account of him," whispered her aunt as they walked, "is not +quite consistent with his behaviour to our poor friend." + +"Perhaps we might be deceived." + +"That is not very likely; our authority was too good." + +On reaching the spacious lobby above they were shown into a very pretty +sitting-room, lately fitted up with greater elegance and lightness than +the apartments below; and were informed that it was but just done to +give pleasure to Miss Darcy, who had taken a liking to the room when +last at Pemberley. + +"He is certainly a good brother," said Elizabeth, as she walked towards +one of the windows. + +Mrs. Reynolds anticipated Miss Darcy's delight, when she should enter +the room. "And this is always the way with him," she added. "Whatever +can give his sister any pleasure is sure to be done in a moment. There +is nothing he would not do for her." + +The picture-gallery, and two or three of the principal bedrooms, were +all that remained to be shown. In the former were many good paintings; +but Elizabeth knew nothing of the art; and from such as had been already +visible below, she had willingly turned to look at some drawings of Miss +Darcy's, in crayons, whose subjects were usually more interesting, and +also more intelligible. + +In the gallery there were many family portraits, but they could have +little to fix the attention of a stranger. Elizabeth walked in quest of +the only face whose features would be known to her. At last it arrested +her--and she beheld a striking resemblance to Mr. Darcy, with such a +smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen when he +looked at her. She stood several minutes before the picture, in earnest +contemplation, and returned to it again before they quitted the gallery. +Mrs. Reynolds informed them that it had been taken in his father's +lifetime. + +There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle +sensation towards the original than she had ever felt at the height of +their acquaintance. The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds +was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise +of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she +considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship!--how +much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow!--how much of +good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought +forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character, and as she +stood before the canvas on which he was represented, and fixed his +eyes upon herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of +gratitude than it had ever raised before; she remembered its warmth, and +softened its impropriety of expression. + +When all of the house that was open to general inspection had been seen, +they returned downstairs, and, taking leave of the housekeeper, were +consigned over to the gardener, who met them at the hall-door. + +As they walked across the hall towards the river, Elizabeth turned back +to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also, and while the former +was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself +suddenly came forward from the road, which led behind it to the stables. + +They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his +appearance, that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes +instantly met, and the cheeks of both were overspread with the deepest +blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immovable from +surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, +and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least +of perfect civility. + +She had instinctively turned away; but stopping on his approach, +received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be +overcome. Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture +they had just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two +that they now saw Mr. Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise, on +beholding his master, must immediately have told it. They stood a little +aloof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and confused, +scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer +she returned to his civil inquiries after her family. Amazed at the +alteration of his manner since they last parted, every sentence that +he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the +impropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind, the few +minutes in which they continued were some of the most uncomfortable in +her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease; when he spoke, his accent +had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his inquiries as +to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her having stayed in +Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the +distraction of his thoughts. + +At length every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few +moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took +leave. + +The others then joined her, and expressed admiration of his figure; but +Elizabeth heard not a word, and wholly engrossed by her own feelings, +followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and vexation. Her +coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the +world! How strange it must appear to him! In what a disgraceful light +might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if she had purposely +thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come? Or, why did he +thus come a day before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes +sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination; +for it was plain that he was that moment arrived--that moment alighted +from his horse or his carriage. She blushed again and again over +the perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so strikingly +altered--what could it mean? That he should even speak to her was +amazing!--but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her family! +Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never +had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. What +a contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosings Park, when he put +his letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, or how to account +for it. + +They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and +every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer +reach of the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some time +before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered +mechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and +seemed to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she +distinguished no part of the scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that +one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then +was. She longed to know what at the moment was passing in his mind--in +what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything, +she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he +felt himself at ease; yet there had been _that_ in his voice which was +not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in +seeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with +composure. + +At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind +aroused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself. + +They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, +ascended some of the higher grounds; when, in spots where the opening of +the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the +valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading +many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish +of going round the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk. +With a triumphant smile they were told that it was ten miles round. +It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which +brought them again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods, +to the edge of the water, and one of its narrowest parts. They crossed +it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene; +it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the +valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream, +and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it. +Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed the +bridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, +who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought only +of returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece was, +therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house +on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their +progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the +taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the +occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the +man about them, that he advanced but little. Whilst wandering on in this +slow manner, they were again surprised, and Elizabeth's astonishment +was quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy +approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk here being here +less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before +they met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was at least more prepared +for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with +calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed, +she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. The idea +lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the +turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance, she saw +that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his +politeness, she began, as they met, to admire the beauty of the place; +but she had not got beyond the words "delightful," and "charming," when +some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of +Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed, +and she said no more. + +Mrs. Gardiner was standing a little behind; and on her pausing, he asked +her if she would do him the honour of introducing him to her friends. +This was a stroke of civility for which she was quite unprepared; +and she could hardly suppress a smile at his being now seeking the +acquaintance of some of those very people against whom his pride had +revolted in his offer to herself. "What will be his surprise," thought +she, "when he knows who they are? He takes them now for people of +fashion." + +The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named their +relationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore +it, and was not without the expectation of his decamping as fast as he +could from such disgraceful companions. That he was _surprised_ by the +connection was evident; he sustained it, however, with fortitude, and +so far from going away, turned his back with them, and entered into +conversation with Mr. Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased, +could not but triumph. It was consoling that he should know she had +some relations for whom there was no need to blush. She listened most +attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every +expression, every sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, +his taste, or his good manners. + +The conversation soon turned upon fishing; and she heard Mr. Darcy +invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he +chose while he continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same time +to supply him with fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of +the stream where there was usually most sport. Mrs. Gardiner, who was +walking arm-in-arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of wonder. +Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the compliment +must be all for herself. Her astonishment, however, was extreme, and +continually was she repeating, "Why is he so altered? From what can +it proceed? It cannot be for _me_--it cannot be for _my_ sake that his +manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a +change as this. It is impossible that he should still love me." + +After walking some time in this way, the two ladies in front, the two +gentlemen behind, on resuming their places, after descending to +the brink of the river for the better inspection of some curious +water-plant, there chanced to be a little alteration. It originated +in Mrs. Gardiner, who, fatigued by the exercise of the morning, found +Elizabeth's arm inadequate to her support, and consequently preferred +her husband's. Mr. Darcy took her place by her niece, and they walked on +together. After a short silence, the lady first spoke. She wished him +to know that she had been assured of his absence before she came to the +place, and accordingly began by observing, that his arrival had been +very unexpected--"for your housekeeper," she added, "informed us that +you would certainly not be here till to-morrow; and indeed, before we +left Bakewell, we understood that you were not immediately expected +in the country." He acknowledged the truth of it all, and said that +business with his steward had occasioned his coming forward a few hours +before the rest of the party with whom he had been travelling. "They +will join me early to-morrow," he continued, "and among them are some +who will claim an acquaintance with you--Mr. Bingley and his sisters." + +Elizabeth answered only by a slight bow. Her thoughts were instantly +driven back to the time when Mr. Bingley's name had been the last +mentioned between them; and, if she might judge by his complexion, _his_ +mind was not very differently engaged. + +"There is also one other person in the party," he continued after a +pause, "who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow +me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance +during your stay at Lambton?" + +The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great +for her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt +that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her +must be the work of her brother, and, without looking farther, it was +satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made +him think really ill of her. + +They now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth +was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and +pleased. His wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of +the highest kind. They soon outstripped the others, and when they had +reached the carriage, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were half a quarter of a +mile behind. + +He then asked her to walk into the house--but she declared herself not +tired, and they stood together on the lawn. At such a time much might +have been said, and silence was very awkward. She wanted to talk, but +there seemed to be an embargo on every subject. At last she recollected +that she had been travelling, and they talked of Matlock and Dove Dale +with great perseverance. Yet time and her aunt moved slowly--and her +patience and her ideas were nearly worn our before the tete-a-tete was +over. On Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's coming up they were all pressed to go +into the house and take some refreshment; but this was declined, and +they parted on each side with utmost politeness. Mr. Darcy handed the +ladies into the carriage; and when it drove off, Elizabeth saw him +walking slowly towards the house. + +The observations of her uncle and aunt now began; and each of them +pronounced him to be infinitely superior to anything they had expected. +"He is perfectly well behaved, polite, and unassuming," said her uncle. + +"There _is_ something a little stately in him, to be sure," replied her +aunt, "but it is confined to his air, and is not unbecoming. I can now +say with the housekeeper, that though some people may call him proud, I +have seen nothing of it." + +"I was never more surprised than by his behaviour to us. It was more +than civil; it was really attentive; and there was no necessity for such +attention. His acquaintance with Elizabeth was very trifling." + +"To be sure, Lizzy," said her aunt, "he is not so handsome as Wickham; +or, rather, he has not Wickham's countenance, for his features +are perfectly good. But how came you to tell me that he was so +disagreeable?" + +Elizabeth excused herself as well as she could; said that she had liked +him better when they had met in Kent than before, and that she had never +seen him so pleasant as this morning. + +"But perhaps he may be a little whimsical in his civilities," replied +her uncle. "Your great men often are; and therefore I shall not take him +at his word, as he might change his mind another day, and warn me off +his grounds." + +Elizabeth felt that they had entirely misunderstood his character, but +said nothing. + +"From what we have seen of him," continued Mrs. Gardiner, "I really +should not have thought that he could have behaved in so cruel a way by +anybody as he has done by poor Wickham. He has not an ill-natured look. +On the contrary, there is something pleasing about his mouth when he +speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance that would +not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart. But, to be sure, the +good lady who showed us his house did give him a most flaming character! +I could hardly help laughing aloud sometimes. But he is a liberal +master, I suppose, and _that_ in the eye of a servant comprehends every +virtue." + +Elizabeth here felt herself called on to say something in vindication of +his behaviour to Wickham; and therefore gave them to understand, in +as guarded a manner as she could, that by what she had heard from +his relations in Kent, his actions were capable of a very different +construction; and that his character was by no means so faulty, nor +Wickham's so amiable, as they had been considered in Hertfordshire. In +confirmation of this, she related the particulars of all the pecuniary +transactions in which they had been connected, without actually naming +her authority, but stating it to be such as might be relied on. + +Mrs. Gardiner was surprised and concerned; but as they were now +approaching the scene of her former pleasures, every idea gave way to +the charm of recollection; and she was too much engaged in pointing out +to her husband all the interesting spots in its environs to think of +anything else. Fatigued as she had been by the morning's walk they +had no sooner dined than she set off again in quest of her former +acquaintance, and the evening was spent in the satisfactions of a +intercourse renewed after many years' discontinuance. + +The occurrences of the day were too full of interest to leave Elizabeth +much attention for any of these new friends; and she could do nothing +but think, and think with wonder, of Mr. Darcy's civility, and, above +all, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister. + + + +Chapter 44 + + +Elizabeth had settled it that Mr. Darcy would bring his sister to visit +her the very day after her reaching Pemberley; and was consequently +resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning. +But her conclusion was false; for on the very morning after their +arrival at Lambton, these visitors came. They had been walking about the +place with some of their new friends, and were just returning to the inn +to dress themselves for dining with the same family, when the sound of a +carriage drew them to a window, and they saw a gentleman and a lady in +a curricle driving up the street. Elizabeth immediately recognizing +the livery, guessed what it meant, and imparted no small degree of her +surprise to her relations by acquainting them with the honour which she +expected. Her uncle and aunt were all amazement; and the embarrassment +of her manner as she spoke, joined to the circumstance itself, and many +of the circumstances of the preceding day, opened to them a new idea on +the business. Nothing had ever suggested it before, but they felt that +there was no other way of accounting for such attentions from such a +quarter than by supposing a partiality for their niece. While these +newly-born notions were passing in their heads, the perturbation of +Elizabeth's feelings was at every moment increasing. She was quite +amazed at her own discomposure; but amongst other causes of disquiet, +she dreaded lest the partiality of the brother should have said too much +in her favour; and, more than commonly anxious to please, she naturally +suspected that every power of pleasing would fail her. + +She retreated from the window, fearful of being seen; and as she walked +up and down the room, endeavouring to compose herself, saw such looks of +inquiring surprise in her uncle and aunt as made everything worse. + +Miss Darcy and her brother appeared, and this formidable introduction +took place. With astonishment did Elizabeth see that her new +acquaintance was at least as much embarrassed as herself. Since her +being at Lambton, she had heard that Miss Darcy was exceedingly proud; +but the observation of a very few minutes convinced her that she was +only exceedingly shy. She found it difficult to obtain even a word from +her beyond a monosyllable. + +Miss Darcy was tall, and on a larger scale than Elizabeth; and, though +little more than sixteen, her figure was formed, and her appearance +womanly and graceful. She was less handsome than her brother; but there +was sense and good humour in her face, and her manners were perfectly +unassuming and gentle. Elizabeth, who had expected to find in her as +acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, was much +relieved by discerning such different feelings. + +They had not long been together before Mr. Darcy told her that Bingley +was also coming to wait on her; and she had barely time to express her +satisfaction, and prepare for such a visitor, when Bingley's quick +step was heard on the stairs, and in a moment he entered the room. All +Elizabeth's anger against him had been long done away; but had she still +felt any, it could hardly have stood its ground against the unaffected +cordiality with which he expressed himself on seeing her again. He +inquired in a friendly, though general way, after her family, and looked +and spoke with the same good-humoured ease that he had ever done. + +To Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner he was scarcely a less interesting personage +than to herself. They had long wished to see him. The whole party before +them, indeed, excited a lively attention. The suspicions which had just +arisen of Mr. Darcy and their niece directed their observation towards +each with an earnest though guarded inquiry; and they soon drew from +those inquiries the full conviction that one of them at least knew +what it was to love. Of the lady's sensations they remained a little +in doubt; but that the gentleman was overflowing with admiration was +evident enough. + +Elizabeth, on her side, had much to do. She wanted to ascertain the +feelings of each of her visitors; she wanted to compose her own, and +to make herself agreeable to all; and in the latter object, where she +feared most to fail, she was most sure of success, for those to whom she +endeavoured to give pleasure were prepossessed in her favour. Bingley +was ready, Georgiana was eager, and Darcy determined, to be pleased. + +In seeing Bingley, her thoughts naturally flew to her sister; and, oh! +how ardently did she long to know whether any of his were directed in +a like manner. Sometimes she could fancy that he talked less than on +former occasions, and once or twice pleased herself with the notion +that, as he looked at her, he was trying to trace a resemblance. But, +though this might be imaginary, she could not be deceived as to his +behaviour to Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival to Jane. No look +appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred +between them that could justify the hopes of his sister. On this point +she was soon satisfied; and two or three little circumstances occurred +ere they parted, which, in her anxious interpretation, denoted a +recollection of Jane not untinctured by tenderness, and a wish of saying +more that might lead to the mention of her, had he dared. He observed +to her, at a moment when the others were talking together, and in a tone +which had something of real regret, that it "was a very long time since +he had had the pleasure of seeing her;" and, before she could reply, +he added, "It is above eight months. We have not met since the 26th of +November, when we were all dancing together at Netherfield." + +Elizabeth was pleased to find his memory so exact; and he afterwards +took occasion to ask her, when unattended to by any of the rest, whether +_all_ her sisters were at Longbourn. There was not much in the question, +nor in the preceding remark; but there was a look and a manner which +gave them meaning. + +It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy himself; +but, whenever she did catch a glimpse, she saw an expression of general +complaisance, and in all that he said she heard an accent so removed +from _hauteur_ or disdain of his companions, as convinced her that +the improvement of manners which she had yesterday witnessed however +temporary its existence might prove, had at least outlived one day. When +she saw him thus seeking the acquaintance and courting the good opinion +of people with whom any intercourse a few months ago would have been a +disgrace--when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the +very relations whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their last +lively scene in Hunsford Parsonage--the difference, the change was +so great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she could hardly +restrain her astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company +of his dear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations +at Rosings, had she seen him so desirous to please, so free from +self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importance +could result from the success of his endeavours, and when even the +acquaintance of those to whom his attentions were addressed would draw +down the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of Netherfield and +Rosings. + +Their visitors stayed with them above half-an-hour; and when they arose +to depart, Mr. Darcy called on his sister to join him in expressing +their wish of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and Miss Bennet, to dinner +at Pemberley, before they left the country. Miss Darcy, though with a +diffidence which marked her little in the habit of giving invitations, +readily obeyed. Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece, desirous of knowing +how _she_, whom the invitation most concerned, felt disposed as to its +acceptance, but Elizabeth had turned away her head. Presuming however, +that this studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment than +any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of +society, a perfect willingness to accept it, she ventured to engage for +her attendance, and the day after the next was fixed on. + +Bingley expressed great pleasure in the certainty of seeing Elizabeth +again, having still a great deal to say to her, and many inquiries to +make after all their Hertfordshire friends. Elizabeth, construing all +this into a wish of hearing her speak of her sister, was pleased, and on +this account, as well as some others, found herself, when their +visitors left them, capable of considering the last half-hour with some +satisfaction, though while it was passing, the enjoyment of it had been +little. Eager to be alone, and fearful of inquiries or hints from her +uncle and aunt, she stayed with them only long enough to hear their +favourable opinion of Bingley, and then hurried away to dress. + +But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's curiosity; it was +not their wish to force her communication. It was evident that she was +much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they had before any idea of; +it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much to +interest, but nothing to justify inquiry. + +Of Mr. Darcy it was now a matter of anxiety to think well; and, as far +as their acquaintance reached, there was no fault to find. They could +not be untouched by his politeness; and had they drawn his character +from their own feelings and his servant's report, without any reference +to any other account, the circle in Hertfordshire to which he was known +would not have recognized it for Mr. Darcy. There was now an interest, +however, in believing the housekeeper; and they soon became sensible +that the authority of a servant who had known him since he was four +years old, and whose own manners indicated respectability, was not to be +hastily rejected. Neither had anything occurred in the intelligence of +their Lambton friends that could materially lessen its weight. They had +nothing to accuse him of but pride; pride he probably had, and if not, +it would certainly be imputed by the inhabitants of a small market-town +where the family did not visit. It was acknowledged, however, that he +was a liberal man, and did much good among the poor. + +With respect to Wickham, the travellers soon found that he was not held +there in much estimation; for though the chief of his concerns with the +son of his patron were imperfectly understood, it was yet a well-known +fact that, on his quitting Derbyshire, he had left many debts behind +him, which Mr. Darcy afterwards discharged. + +As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than +the last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not +long enough to determine her feelings towards _one_ in that mansion; +and she lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them out. She +certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she +had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, +that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his +valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some +time ceased to be repugnant to her feeling; and it was now heightened +into somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in +his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, +which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, +there was a motive within her of goodwill which could not be overlooked. +It was gratitude; gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, +but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and +acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations +accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid +her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most +eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display +of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only +were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent +on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much +pride exciting not only astonishment but gratitude--for to love, ardent +love, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of a +sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be +exactly defined. She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him, +she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how +far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would +be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her +fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on her the renewal of +his addresses. + +It had been settled in the evening between the aunt and the niece, that +such a striking civility as Miss Darcy's in coming to see them on the +very day of her arrival at Pemberley, for she had reached it only to a +late breakfast, ought to be imitated, though it could not be equalled, +by some exertion of politeness on their side; and, consequently, that +it would be highly expedient to wait on her at Pemberley the following +morning. They were, therefore, to go. Elizabeth was pleased; though when +she asked herself the reason, she had very little to say in reply. + +Mr. Gardiner left them soon after breakfast. The fishing scheme had been +renewed the day before, and a positive engagement made of his meeting +some of the gentlemen at Pemberley before noon. + + + +Chapter 45 + + +Convinced as Elizabeth now was that Miss Bingley's dislike of her had +originated in jealousy, she could not help feeling how unwelcome her +appearance at Pemberley must be to her, and was curious to know with how +much civility on that lady's side the acquaintance would now be renewed. + +On reaching the house, they were shown through the hall into the saloon, +whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows +opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody +hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts +which were scattered over the intermediate lawn. + +In this house they were received by Miss Darcy, who was sitting there +with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in +London. Georgiana's reception of them was very civil, but attended with +all the embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the fear +of doing wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves inferior +the belief of her being proud and reserved. Mrs. Gardiner and her niece, +however, did her justice, and pitied her. + +By Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley they were noticed only by a curtsey; and, +on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be, +succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Mrs. Annesley, a +genteel, agreeable-looking woman, whose endeavour to introduce some kind +of discourse proved her to be more truly well-bred than either of the +others; and between her and Mrs. Gardiner, with occasional help from +Elizabeth, the conversation was carried on. Miss Darcy looked as if she +wished for courage enough to join in it; and sometimes did venture a +short sentence when there was least danger of its being heard. + +Elizabeth soon saw that she was herself closely watched by Miss Bingley, +and that she could not speak a word, especially to Miss Darcy, without +calling her attention. This observation would not have prevented her +from trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an +inconvenient distance; but she was not sorry to be spared the necessity +of saying much. Her own thoughts were employing her. She expected every +moment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room. She wished, she +feared that the master of the house might be amongst them; and whether +she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine. After +sitting in this manner a quarter of an hour without hearing Miss +Bingley's voice, Elizabeth was roused by receiving from her a cold +inquiry after the health of her family. She answered with equal +indifference and brevity, and the others said no more. + +The next variation which their visit afforded was produced by the +entrance of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the +finest fruits in season; but this did not take place till after many +a significant look and smile from Mrs. Annesley to Miss Darcy had been +given, to remind her of her post. There was now employment for the whole +party--for though they could not all talk, they could all eat; and the +beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collected +them round the table. + +While thus engaged, Elizabeth had a fair opportunity of deciding whether +she most feared or wished for the appearance of Mr. Darcy, by the +feelings which prevailed on his entering the room; and then, though but +a moment before she had believed her wishes to predominate, she began to +regret that he came. + +He had been some time with Mr. Gardiner, who, with two or three other +gentlemen from the house, was engaged by the river, and had left him +only on learning that the ladies of the family intended a visit to +Georgiana that morning. No sooner did he appear than Elizabeth wisely +resolved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed; a resolution the more +necessary to be made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because she +saw that the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them, +and that there was scarcely an eye which did not watch his behaviour +when he first came into the room. In no countenance was attentive +curiosity so strongly marked as in Miss Bingley's, in spite of the +smiles which overspread her face whenever she spoke to one of its +objects; for jealousy had not yet made her desperate, and her attentions +to Mr. Darcy were by no means over. Miss Darcy, on her brother's +entrance, exerted herself much more to talk, and Elizabeth saw that he +was anxious for his sister and herself to get acquainted, and forwarded +as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side. Miss +Bingley saw all this likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the +first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility: + +"Pray, Miss Eliza, are not the ----shire Militia removed from Meryton? +They must be a great loss to _your_ family." + +In Darcy's presence she dared not mention Wickham's name; but Elizabeth +instantly comprehended that he was uppermost in her thoughts; and the +various recollections connected with him gave her a moment's distress; +but exerting herself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, she +presently answered the question in a tolerably detached tone. While +she spoke, an involuntary glance showed her Darcy, with a heightened +complexion, earnestly looking at her, and his sister overcome with +confusion, and unable to lift up her eyes. Had Miss Bingley known what +pain she was then giving her beloved friend, she undoubtedly would +have refrained from the hint; but she had merely intended to discompose +Elizabeth by bringing forward the idea of a man to whom she believed +her partial, to make her betray a sensibility which might injure her in +Darcy's opinion, and, perhaps, to remind the latter of all the follies +and absurdities by which some part of her family were connected +with that corps. Not a syllable had ever reached her of Miss Darcy's +meditated elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy +was possible, except to Elizabeth; and from all Bingley's connections +her brother was particularly anxious to conceal it, from the very +wish which Elizabeth had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming +hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such a plan, and without +meaning that it should effect his endeavour to separate him from Miss +Bennet, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern +for the welfare of his friend. + +Elizabeth's collected behaviour, however, soon quieted his emotion; and +as Miss Bingley, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to +Wickham, Georgiana also recovered in time, though not enough to be able +to speak any more. Her brother, whose eye she feared to meet, scarcely +recollected her interest in the affair, and the very circumstance which +had been designed to turn his thoughts from Elizabeth seemed to have +fixed them on her more and more cheerfully. + +Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer above +mentioned; and while Mr. Darcy was attending them to their carriage Miss +Bingley was venting her feelings in criticisms on Elizabeth's person, +behaviour, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her. Her brother's +recommendation was enough to ensure her favour; his judgement could not +err. And he had spoken in such terms of Elizabeth as to leave Georgiana +without the power of finding her otherwise than lovely and amiable. When +Darcy returned to the saloon, Miss Bingley could not help repeating to +him some part of what she had been saying to his sister. + +"How very ill Miss Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy," she +cried; "I never in my life saw anyone so much altered as she is since +the winter. She is grown so brown and coarse! Louisa and I were agreeing +that we should not have known her again." + +However little Mr. Darcy might have liked such an address, he contented +himself with coolly replying that he perceived no other alteration than +her being rather tanned, no miraculous consequence of travelling in the +summer. + +"For my own part," she rejoined, "I must confess that I never could +see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no +brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose +wants character--there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are +tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for her eyes, +which have sometimes been called so fine, I could never see anything +extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do +not like at all; and in her air altogether there is a self-sufficiency +without fashion, which is intolerable." + +Persuaded as Miss Bingley was that Darcy admired Elizabeth, this was not +the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always +wise; and in seeing him at last look somewhat nettled, she had all the +success she expected. He was resolutely silent, however, and, from a +determination of making him speak, she continued: + +"I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all +were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect +your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, '_She_ +a beauty!--I should as soon call her mother a wit.' But afterwards she +seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at +one time." + +"Yes," replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, "but _that_ +was only when I first saw her, for it is many months since I have +considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance." + +He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction of +having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself. + +Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that had occurred during their +visit, as they returned, except what had particularly interested them +both. The look and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed, +except of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. They talked +of his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit--of everything but +himself; yet Elizabeth was longing to know what Mrs. Gardiner thought of +him, and Mrs. Gardiner would have been highly gratified by her niece's +beginning the subject. + + + +Chapter 46 + + +Elizabeth had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from +Jane on their first arrival at Lambton; and this disappointment had been +renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; but +on the third her repining was over, and her sister justified, by the +receipt of two letters from her at once, on one of which was marked that +it had been missent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as +Jane had written the direction remarkably ill. + +They had just been preparing to walk as the letters came in; and +her uncle and aunt, leaving her to enjoy them in quiet, set off by +themselves. The one missent must first be attended to; it had been +written five days ago. The beginning contained an account of all their +little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded; +but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident +agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect: + +"Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a +most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you--be +assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. +An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, +from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland +with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our +surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am +very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am willing +to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. +Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step +(and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is +disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing. +Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How +thankful am I that we never let them know what has been said against +him; we must forget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night about +twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at +eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have +passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect +him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of +their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor +mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly +know what I have written." + +Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing +what she felt, Elizabeth on finishing this letter instantly seized the +other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows: it +had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first. + +"By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; I +wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my +head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest +Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, +and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as the marriage between Mr. Wickham +and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has +taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone +to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the +day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia's short +letter to Mrs. F. gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna +Green, something was dropped by Denny expressing his belief that W. +never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was +repeated to Colonel F., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B. +intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, +but no further; for on entering that place, they removed into a hackney +coach, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that +is known after this is, that they were seen to continue the London road. +I know not what to think. After making every possible inquiry on that +side London, Colonel F. came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing +them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but +without any success--no such people had been seen to pass through. With +the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions +to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved +for him and Mrs. F., but no one can throw any blame on them. Our +distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the +worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances might make +it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue +their first plan; and even if _he_ could form such a design against a +young woman of Lydia's connections, which is not likely, can I suppose +her so lost to everything? Impossible! I grieve to find, however, that +Colonel F. is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook his +head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared W. was not a man to +be trusted. My poor mother is really ill, and keeps her room. Could she +exert herself, it would be better; but this is not to be expected. And +as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has +anger for having concealed their attachment; but as it was a matter of +confidence, one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you +have been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the +first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not +so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu! I +take up my pen again to do what I have just told you I would not; but +circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to +come here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well, +that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something +more to ask of the former. My father is going to London with Colonel +Forster instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to do I am sure +I know not; but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any +measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to +be at Brighton again to-morrow evening. In such an exigence, my +uncle's advice and assistance would be everything in the world; he will +immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness." + +"Oh! where, where is my uncle?" cried Elizabeth, darting from her seat +as she finished the letter, in eagerness to follow him, without losing +a moment of the time so precious; but as she reached the door it was +opened by a servant, and Mr. Darcy appeared. Her pale face and impetuous +manner made him start, and before he could recover himself to speak, +she, in whose mind every idea was superseded by Lydia's situation, +hastily exclaimed, "I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find +Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not +an instant to lose." + +"Good God! what is the matter?" cried he, with more feeling than +politeness; then recollecting himself, "I will not detain you a minute; +but let me, or let the servant go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are +not well enough; you cannot go yourself." + +Elizabeth hesitated, but her knees trembled under her and she felt how +little would be gained by her attempting to pursue them. Calling back +the servant, therefore, she commissioned him, though in so breathless +an accent as made her almost unintelligible, to fetch his master and +mistress home instantly. + +On his quitting the room she sat down, unable to support herself, and +looking so miserably ill, that it was impossible for Darcy to leave her, +or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration, +"Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you +present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill." + +"No, I thank you," she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. "There +is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I am only distressed by +some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn." + +She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutes could +not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only say +something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate +silence. At length she spoke again. "I have just had a letter from Jane, +with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. My younger +sister has left all her friends--has eloped; has thrown herself into +the power of--of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. +_You_ know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no +connections, nothing that can tempt him to--she is lost for ever." + +Darcy was fixed in astonishment. "When I consider," she added in a yet +more agitated voice, "that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what +he was. Had I but explained some part of it only--some part of what I +learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not +have happened. But it is all--all too late now." + +"I am grieved indeed," cried Darcy; "grieved--shocked. But is it +certain--absolutely certain?" + +"Oh, yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, and were traced +almost to London, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to +Scotland." + +"And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?" + +"My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle's +immediate assistance; and we shall be off, I hope, in half-an-hour. But +nothing can be done--I know very well that nothing can be done. How is +such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have +not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!" + +Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence. + +"When _my_ eyes were opened to his real character--Oh! had I known what +I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not--I was afraid of doing too +much. Wretched, wretched mistake!" + +Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking +up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air +gloomy. Elizabeth soon observed, and instantly understood it. Her +power was sinking; everything _must_ sink under such a proof of family +weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither +wonder nor condemn, but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing +consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It +was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her own +wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved +him, as now, when all love must be vain. + +But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Lydia--the +humiliation, the misery she was bringing on them all, soon swallowed +up every private care; and covering her face with her handkerchief, +Elizabeth was soon lost to everything else; and, after a pause of +several minutes, was only recalled to a sense of her situation by +the voice of her companion, who, in a manner which, though it spoke +compassion, spoke likewise restraint, said, "I am afraid you have been +long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my +stay, but real, though unavailing concern. Would to Heaven that anything +could be either said or done on my part that might offer consolation to +such distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may +seem purposely to ask for your thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I +fear, prevent my sister's having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley +to-day." + +"Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologise for us to Miss Darcy. Say that +urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as +long as it is possible, I know it cannot be long." + +He readily assured her of his secrecy; again expressed his sorrow for +her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present +reason to hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations, with only +one serious, parting look, went away. + +As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it was that they +should ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality as +had marked their several meetings in Derbyshire; and as she threw a +retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full +of contradictions and varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those +feelings which would now have promoted its continuance, and would +formerly have rejoiced in its termination. + +If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth's +change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if +otherwise--if regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or +unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on +a first interview with its object, and even before two words have been +exchanged, nothing can be said in her defence, except that she had given +somewhat of a trial to the latter method in her partiality for Wickham, +and that its ill success might, perhaps, authorise her to seek the other +less interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him +go with regret; and in this early example of what Lydia's infamy must +produce, found additional anguish as she reflected on that wretched +business. Never, since reading Jane's second letter, had she entertained +a hope of Wickham's meaning to marry her. No one but Jane, she thought, +could flatter herself with such an expectation. Surprise was the least +of her feelings on this development. While the contents of the first +letter remained in her mind, she was all surprise--all astonishment that +Wickham should marry a girl whom it was impossible he could marry +for money; and how Lydia could ever have attached him had appeared +incomprehensible. But now it was all too natural. For such an attachment +as this she might have sufficient charms; and though she did not suppose +Lydia to be deliberately engaging in an elopement without the intention +of marriage, she had no difficulty in believing that neither her virtue +nor her understanding would preserve her from falling an easy prey. + +She had never perceived, while the regiment was in Hertfordshire, that +Lydia had any partiality for him; but she was convinced that Lydia +wanted only encouragement to attach herself to anybody. Sometimes one +officer, sometimes another, had been her favourite, as their attentions +raised them in her opinion. Her affections had continually been +fluctuating but never without an object. The mischief of neglect and +mistaken indulgence towards such a girl--oh! how acutely did she now +feel it! + +She was wild to be at home--to hear, to see, to be upon the spot to +share with Jane in the cares that must now fall wholly upon her, in a +family so deranged, a father absent, a mother incapable of exertion, and +requiring constant attendance; and though almost persuaded that nothing +could be done for Lydia, her uncle's interference seemed of the utmost +importance, and till he entered the room her impatience was severe. Mr. +and Mrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm, supposing by the servant's +account that their niece was taken suddenly ill; but satisfying them +instantly on that head, she eagerly communicated the cause of their +summons, reading the two letters aloud, and dwelling on the postscript +of the last with trembling energy, though Lydia had never been a +favourite with them, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not but be deeply +afflicted. Not Lydia only, but all were concerned in it; and after the +first exclamations of surprise and horror, Mr. Gardiner promised every +assistance in his power. Elizabeth, though expecting no less, thanked +him with tears of gratitude; and all three being actuated by one spirit, +everything relating to their journey was speedily settled. They were to +be off as soon as possible. "But what is to be done about Pemberley?" +cried Mrs. Gardiner. "John told us Mr. Darcy was here when you sent for +us; was it so?" + +"Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep our engagement. +_That_ is all settled." + +"What is all settled?" repeated the other, as she ran into her room to +prepare. "And are they upon such terms as for her to disclose the real +truth? Oh, that I knew how it was!" + +But wishes were vain, or at least could only serve to amuse her in the +hurry and confusion of the following hour. Had Elizabeth been at leisure +to be idle, she would have remained certain that all employment was +impossible to one so wretched as herself; but she had her share of +business as well as her aunt, and amongst the rest there were notes to +be written to all their friends at Lambton, with false excuses for their +sudden departure. An hour, however, saw the whole completed; and Mr. +Gardiner meanwhile having settled his account at the inn, nothing +remained to be done but to go; and Elizabeth, after all the misery of +the morning, found herself, in a shorter space of time than she could +have supposed, seated in the carriage, and on the road to Longbourn. + + + +Chapter 47 + + +"I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth," said her uncle, as they +drove from the town; "and really, upon serious consideration, I am much +more inclined than I was to judge as your eldest sister does on the +matter. It appears to me so very unlikely that any young man should +form such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or +friendless, and who was actually staying in his colonel's family, that I +am strongly inclined to hope the best. Could he expect that her friends +would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by the +regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is +not adequate to the risk!" + +"Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth, brightening up for a moment. + +"Upon my word," said Mrs. Gardiner, "I begin to be of your uncle's +opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honour, and +interest, for him to be guilty of. I cannot think so very ill of +Wickham. Can you yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up, as to believe +him capable of it?" + +"Not, perhaps, of neglecting his own interest; but of every other +neglect I can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I +dare not hope it. Why should they not go on to Scotland if that had been +the case?" + +"In the first place," replied Mr. Gardiner, "there is no absolute proof +that they are not gone to Scotland." + +"Oh! but their removing from the chaise into a hackney coach is such +a presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on the +Barnet road." + +"Well, then--supposing them to be in London. They may be there, though +for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptional purpose. It is +not likely that money should be very abundant on either side; and it +might strike them that they could be more economically, though less +expeditiously, married in London than in Scotland." + +"But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must their +marriage be private? Oh, no, no--this is not likely. His most particular +friend, you see by Jane's account, was persuaded of his never intending +to marry her. Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He +cannot afford it. And what claims has Lydia--what attraction has she +beyond youth, health, and good humour that could make him, for her sake, +forego every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well? As to what +restraint the apprehensions of disgrace in the corps might throw on a +dishonourable elopement with her, I am not able to judge; for I know +nothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to your +other objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has +no brothers to step forward; and he might imagine, from my father's +behaviour, from his indolence and the little attention he has ever +seemed to give to what was going forward in his family, that _he_ would +do as little, and think as little about it, as any father could do, in +such a matter." + +"But can you think that Lydia is so lost to everything but love of him +as to consent to live with him on any terms other than marriage?" + +"It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed," replied Elizabeth, with +tears in her eyes, "that a sister's sense of decency and virtue in such +a point should admit of doubt. But, really, I know not what to say. +Perhaps I am not doing her justice. But she is very young; she has never +been taught to think on serious subjects; and for the last half-year, +nay, for a twelvemonth--she has been given up to nothing but amusement +and vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idle +and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that came in her way. +Since the ----shire were first quartered in Meryton, nothing but love, +flirtation, and officers have been in her head. She has been doing +everything in her power by thinking and talking on the subject, to give +greater--what shall I call it? susceptibility to her feelings; which are +naturally lively enough. And we all know that Wickham has every charm of +person and address that can captivate a woman." + +"But you see that Jane," said her aunt, "does not think so very ill of +Wickham as to believe him capable of the attempt." + +"Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might be +their former conduct, that she would think capable of such an attempt, +till it were proved against them? But Jane knows, as well as I do, what +Wickham really is. We both know that he has been profligate in every +sense of the word; that he has neither integrity nor honour; that he is +as false and deceitful as he is insinuating." + +"And do you really know all this?" cried Mrs. Gardiner, whose curiosity +as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive. + +"I do indeed," replied Elizabeth, colouring. "I told you, the other day, +of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy; and you yourself, when last at +Longbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of the man who had behaved +with such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are other +circumstances which I am not at liberty--which it is not worth while to +relate; but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless. From +what he said of Miss Darcy I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud, +reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary himself. He +must know that she was as amiable and unpretending as we have found +her." + +"But does Lydia know nothing of this? can she be ignorant of what you +and Jane seem so well to understand?" + +"Oh, yes!--that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, and saw +so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation Colonel Fitzwilliam, I was +ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the ----shire +was to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight's time. As that was the +case, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it +necessary to make our knowledge public; for of what use could +it apparently be to any one, that the good opinion which all the +neighbourhood had of him should then be overthrown? And even when it was +settled that Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of opening +her eyes to his character never occurred to me. That _she_ could be +in any danger from the deception never entered my head. That such a +consequence as _this_ could ensue, you may easily believe, was far +enough from my thoughts." + +"When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no reason, I +suppose, to believe them fond of each other?" + +"Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either +side; and had anything of the kind been perceptible, you must be aware +that ours is not a family on which it could be thrown away. When first +he entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him; but so we all +were. Every girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about him for +the first two months; but he never distinguished _her_ by any particular +attention; and, consequently, after a moderate period of extravagant and +wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the regiment, +who treated her with more distinction, again became her favourites." + + * * * * * + +It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be added +to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this interesting subject, by +its repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, during +the whole of the journey. From Elizabeth's thoughts it was never absent. +Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, she could find +no interval of ease or forgetfulness. + +They travelled as expeditiously as possible, and, sleeping one night +on the road, reached Longbourn by dinner time the next day. It was a +comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane could not have been wearied +by long expectations. + +The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing +on the steps of the house as they entered the paddock; and, when the +carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that lighted up their +faces, and displayed itself over their whole bodies, in a variety of +capers and frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome. + +Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them a hasty kiss, +hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came running down from her +mother's apartment, immediately met her. + +Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled the +eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether anything had been +heard of the fugitives. + +"Not yet," replied Jane. "But now that my dear uncle is come, I hope +everything will be well." + +"Is my father in town?" + +"Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you word." + +"And have you heard from him often?" + +"We have heard only twice. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday to say +that he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which I +particularly begged him to do. He merely added that he should not write +again till he had something of importance to mention." + +"And my mother--how is she? How are you all?" + +"My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatly +shaken. She is upstairs and will have great satisfaction in seeing you +all. She does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and Kitty, thank +Heaven, are quite well." + +"But you--how are you?" cried Elizabeth. "You look pale. How much you +must have gone through!" + +Her sister, however, assured her of her being perfectly well; and their +conversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were +engaged with their children, was now put an end to by the approach +of the whole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and +thanked them both, with alternate smiles and tears. + +When they were all in the drawing-room, the questions which Elizabeth +had already asked were of course repeated by the others, and they soon +found that Jane had no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of +good, however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested had not yet +deserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that +every morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her father, +to explain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announce their marriage. + +Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes' +conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; with +tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous +conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill-usage; +blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the +errors of her daughter must principally be owing. + +"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going to Brighton, +with all my family, _this_ would not have happened; but poor dear Lydia +had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go out +of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their +side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing if she had been +well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have the +charge of her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor dear child! +And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight Wickham, +wherever he meets him and then he will be killed, and what is to become +of us all? The Collinses will turn us out before he is cold in his +grave, and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we +shall do." + +They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardiner, after +general assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told her +that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would assist Mr. +Bennet in every endeavour for recovering Lydia. + +"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he; "though it is right to be +prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain. +It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more we +may gain some news of them; and till we know that they are not married, +and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as +lost. As soon as I get to town I shall go to my brother, and make +him come home with me to Gracechurch Street; and then we may consult +together as to what is to be done." + +"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what I +could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out, +wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, _make_ them +marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but +tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them, +after they are married. And, above all, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting. +Tell him what a dreadful state I am in, that I am frighted out of my +wits--and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me--such +spasms in my side and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart, that +I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear Lydia not to +give any directions about her clothes till she has seen me, for she does +not know which are the best warehouses. Oh, brother, how kind you are! I +know you will contrive it all." + +But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavours +in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well +in her hopes as her fear; and after talking with her in this manner till +dinner was on the table, they all left her to vent all her feelings on +the housekeeper, who attended in the absence of her daughters. + +Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real +occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to +oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her +tongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged it +better that _one_ only of the household, and the one whom they could +most trust should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the +subject. + +In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had been +too busily engaged in their separate apartments to make their appearance +before. One came from her books, and the other from her toilette. The +faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible +in either, except that the loss of her favourite sister, or the anger +which she had herself incurred in this business, had given more of +fretfulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she was +mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance +of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table: + +"This is a most unfortunate affair, and will probably be much talked of. +But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of +each other the balm of sisterly consolation." + +Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added, +"Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful +lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable; that one +false step involves her in endless ruin; that her reputation is no less +brittle than it is beautiful; and that she cannot be too much guarded in +her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex." + +Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed +to make any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with such +kind of moral extractions from the evil before them. + +In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be for +half-an-hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed herself of +the opportunity of making any inquiries, which Jane was equally eager to +satisfy. After joining in general lamentations over the dreadful sequel +of this event, which Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss +Bennet could not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued +the subject, by saying, "But tell me all and everything about it which +I have not already heard. Give me further particulars. What did Colonel +Forster say? Had they no apprehension of anything before the elopement +took place? They must have seen them together for ever." + +"Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some partiality, +especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him any alarm. I am so +grieved for him! His behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost. He +_was_ coming to us, in order to assure us of his concern, before he had +any idea of their not being gone to Scotland: when that apprehension +first got abroad, it hastened his journey." + +"And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry? Did he know of +their intending to go off? Had Colonel Forster seen Denny himself?" + +"Yes; but, when questioned by _him_, Denny denied knowing anything of +their plans, and would not give his real opinion about it. He did not +repeat his persuasion of their not marrying--and from _that_, I am +inclined to hope, he might have been misunderstood before." + +"And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you entertained a +doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?" + +"How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains? I felt +a little uneasy--a little fearful of my sister's happiness with him +in marriage, because I knew that his conduct had not been always quite +right. My father and mother knew nothing of that; they only felt how +imprudent a match it must be. Kitty then owned, with a very natural +triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia's last letter +she had prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, of their +being in love with each other, many weeks." + +"But not before they went to Brighton?" + +"No, I believe not." + +"And did Colonel Forster appear to think well of Wickham himself? Does +he know his real character?" + +"I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as he formerly +did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant. And since this sad +affair has taken place, it is said that he left Meryton greatly in debt; +but I hope this may be false." + +"Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him, +this could not have happened!" + +"Perhaps it would have been better," replied her sister. "But to expose +the former faults of any person without knowing what their present +feelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted with the best intentions." + +"Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note to his +wife?" + +"He brought it with him for us to see." + +Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Elizabeth. These +were the contents: + +"MY DEAR HARRIET, + +"You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help +laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am +missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, +I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I +love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think +it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my +going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, +when I write to them and sign my name 'Lydia Wickham.' What a good joke +it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to +Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancing with him to-night. +Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all; and tell him I will +dance with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall +send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell +Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are +packed up. Good-bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will +drink to our good journey. + +"Your affectionate friend, + +"LYDIA BENNET." + +"Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!" cried Elizabeth when she had +finished it. "What a letter is this, to be written at such a moment! +But at least it shows that _she_ was serious on the subject of their +journey. Whatever he might afterwards persuade her to, it was not on her +side a _scheme_ of infamy. My poor father! how he must have felt it!" + +"I never saw anyone so shocked. He could not speak a word for full ten +minutes. My mother was taken ill immediately, and the whole house in +such confusion!" + +"Oh! Jane," cried Elizabeth, "was there a servant belonging to it who +did not know the whole story before the end of the day?" + +"I do not know. I hope there was. But to be guarded at such a time is +very difficult. My mother was in hysterics, and though I endeavoured to +give her every assistance in my power, I am afraid I did not do so +much as I might have done! But the horror of what might possibly happen +almost took from me my faculties." + +"Your attendance upon her has been too much for you. You do not look +well. Oh that I had been with you! you have had every care and anxiety +upon yourself alone." + +"Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in every +fatigue, I am sure; but I did not think it right for either of them. +Kitty is slight and delicate; and Mary studies so much, that her hours +of repose should not be broken in on. My aunt Phillips came to Longbourn +on Tuesday, after my father went away; and was so good as to stay till +Thursday with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all. And +Lady Lucas has been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning to +condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters', if +they should be of use to us." + +"She had better have stayed at home," cried Elizabeth; "perhaps she +_meant_ well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot see +too little of one's neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolence +insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied." + +She then proceeded to inquire into the measures which her father had +intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery of his daughter. + +"He meant I believe," replied Jane, "to go to Epsom, the place where +they last changed horses, see the postilions and try if anything could +be made out from them. His principal object must be to discover the +number of the hackney coach which took them from Clapham. It had come +with a fare from London; and as he thought that the circumstance of a +gentleman and lady's removing from one carriage into another might +be remarked he meant to make inquiries at Clapham. If he could anyhow +discover at what house the coachman had before set down his fare, he +determined to make inquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossible +to find out the stand and number of the coach. I do not know of any +other designs that he had formed; but he was in such a hurry to be gone, +and his spirits so greatly discomposed, that I had difficulty in finding +out even so much as this." + + + +Chapter 48 + + +The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next +morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him. +His family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent and +dilatory correspondent; but at such a time they had hoped for exertion. +They were forced to conclude that he had no pleasing intelligence to +send; but even of _that_ they would have been glad to be certain. Mr. +Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off. + +When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constant +information of what was going on, and their uncle promised, at parting, +to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn, as soon as he could, +to the great consolation of his sister, who considered it as the only +security for her husband's not being killed in a duel. + +Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire a few +days longer, as the former thought her presence might be serviceable +to her nieces. She shared in their attendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was a +great comfort to them in their hours of freedom. Their other aunt also +visited them frequently, and always, as she said, with the design of +cheering and heartening them up--though, as she never came without +reporting some fresh instance of Wickham's extravagance or irregularity, +she seldom went away without leaving them more dispirited than she found +them. + +All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man who, but three months +before, had been almost an angel of light. He was declared to be in debt +to every tradesman in the place, and his intrigues, all honoured with +the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman's family. +Everybody declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world; +and everybody began to find out that they had always distrusted the +appearance of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not credit above +half of what was said, believed enough to make her former assurance of +her sister's ruin more certain; and even Jane, who believed still less +of it, became almost hopeless, more especially as the time was now come +when, if they had gone to Scotland, which she had never before entirely +despaired of, they must in all probability have gained some news of +them. + +Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday; on Tuesday his wife received a +letter from him; it told them that, on his arrival, he had immediately +found out his brother, and persuaded him to come to Gracechurch Street; +that Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom and Clapham, before his arrival, +but without gaining any satisfactory information; and that he was now +determined to inquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet +thought it possible they might have gone to one of them, on their first +coming to London, before they procured lodgings. Mr. Gardiner himself +did not expect any success from this measure, but as his brother was +eager in it, he meant to assist him in pursuing it. He added that Mr. +Bennet seemed wholly disinclined at present to leave London and promised +to write again very soon. There was also a postscript to this effect: + +"I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to find out, if +possible, from some of the young man's intimates in the regiment, +whether Wickham has any relations or connections who would be likely to +know in what part of town he has now concealed himself. If there were +anyone that one could apply to with a probability of gaining such a +clue as that, it might be of essential consequence. At present we have +nothing to guide us. Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do everything in +his power to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts, perhaps, +Lizzy could tell us what relations he has now living, better than any +other person." + +Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from whence this deference to her +authority proceeded; but it was not in her power to give any information +of so satisfactory a nature as the compliment deserved. She had never +heard of his having had any relations, except a father and mother, both +of whom had been dead many years. It was possible, however, that some of +his companions in the ----shire might be able to give more information; +and though she was not very sanguine in expecting it, the application +was a something to look forward to. + +Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the most anxious +part of each was when the post was expected. The arrival of letters +was the grand object of every morning's impatience. Through letters, +whatever of good or bad was to be told would be communicated, and every +succeeding day was expected to bring some news of importance. + +But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner, a letter arrived for +their father, from a different quarter, from Mr. Collins; which, as Jane +had received directions to open all that came for him in his absence, +she accordingly read; and Elizabeth, who knew what curiosities his +letters always were, looked over her, and read it likewise. It was as +follows: + +"MY DEAR SIR, + +"I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation +in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now +suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter from +Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and myself +sincerely sympathise with you and all your respectable family, in +your present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because +proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall be +wanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune--or that +may comfort you, under a circumstance that must be of all others the +most afflicting to a parent's mind. The death of your daughter would +have been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more to +be lamented, because there is reason to suppose as my dear Charlotte +informs me, that this licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter has +proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence; though, at the same time, +for the consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think +that her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be +guilty of such an enormity, at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, +you are grievously to be pitied; in which opinion I am not only joined +by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to +whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in apprehending that +this false step in one daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of +all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, +will connect themselves with such a family? And this consideration leads +me moreover to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain event +of last November; for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved +in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me then advise you, dear sir, to +console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child +from your affection for ever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her +own heinous offense. + +"I am, dear sir, etc., etc." + +Mr. Gardiner did not write again till he had received an answer from +Colonel Forster; and then he had nothing of a pleasant nature to send. +It was not known that Wickham had a single relationship with whom he +kept up any connection, and it was certain that he had no near one +living. His former acquaintances had been numerous; but since he +had been in the militia, it did not appear that he was on terms of +particular friendship with any of them. There was no one, therefore, +who could be pointed out as likely to give any news of him. And in the +wretched state of his own finances, there was a very powerful motive for +secrecy, in addition to his fear of discovery by Lydia's relations, for +it had just transpired that he had left gaming debts behind him to a +very considerable amount. Colonel Forster believed that more than a +thousand pounds would be necessary to clear his expenses at Brighton. +He owed a good deal in town, but his debts of honour were still more +formidable. Mr. Gardiner did not attempt to conceal these particulars +from the Longbourn family. Jane heard them with horror. "A gamester!" +she cried. "This is wholly unexpected. I had not an idea of it." + +Mr. Gardiner added in his letter, that they might expect to see their +father at home on the following day, which was Saturday. Rendered +spiritless by the ill-success of all their endeavours, he had yielded +to his brother-in-law's entreaty that he would return to his family, and +leave it to him to do whatever occasion might suggest to be advisable +for continuing their pursuit. When Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did +not express so much satisfaction as her children expected, considering +what her anxiety for his life had been before. + +"What, is he coming home, and without poor Lydia?" she cried. "Sure he +will not leave London before he has found them. Who is to fight Wickham, +and make him marry her, if he comes away?" + +As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled that she +and the children should go to London, at the same time that Mr. Bennet +came from it. The coach, therefore, took them the first stage of their +journey, and brought its master back to Longbourn. + +Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth and her +Derbyshire friend that had attended her from that part of the world. His +name had never been voluntarily mentioned before them by her niece; and +the kind of half-expectation which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of their +being followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing. Elizabeth had +received none since her return that could come from Pemberley. + +The present unhappy state of the family rendered any other excuse for +the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could be +fairly conjectured from _that_, though Elizabeth, who was by this time +tolerably well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly aware +that, had she known nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of +Lydia's infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought, +one sleepless night out of two. + +When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual +philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in the +habit of saying; made no mention of the business that had taken him +away, and it was some time before his daughters had courage to speak of +it. + +It was not till the afternoon, when he had joined them at tea, that +Elizabeth ventured to introduce the subject; and then, on her briefly +expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he replied, "Say +nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, +and I ought to feel it." + +"You must not be too severe upon yourself," replied Elizabeth. + +"You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so prone +to fall into it! No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel how much I have +been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. +It will pass away soon enough." + +"Do you suppose them to be in London?" + +"Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?" + +"And Lydia used to want to go to London," added Kitty. + +"She is happy then," said her father drily; "and her residence there +will probably be of some duration." + +Then after a short silence he continued: + +"Lizzy, I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me +last May, which, considering the event, shows some greatness of mind." + +They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother's +tea. + +"This is a parade," he cried, "which does one good; it gives such an +elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the same; I will sit in my +library, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and give as much trouble as +I can; or, perhaps, I may defer it till Kitty runs away." + +"I am not going to run away, papa," said Kitty fretfully. "If I should +ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia." + +"_You_ go to Brighton. I would not trust you so near it as Eastbourne +for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at last learnt to be cautious, and +you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter into +my house again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will be +absolutely prohibited, unless you stand up with one of your sisters. +And you are never to stir out of doors till you can prove that you have +spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner." + +Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry. + +"Well, well," said he, "do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good +girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of +them." + + + +Chapter 49 + + +Two days after Mr. Bennet's return, as Jane and Elizabeth were walking +together in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw the housekeeper +coming towards them, and, concluding that she came to call them to their +mother, went forward to meet her; but, instead of the expected summons, +when they approached her, she said to Miss Bennet, "I beg your pardon, +madam, for interrupting you, but I was in hopes you might have got some +good news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to ask." + +"What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town." + +"Dear madam," cried Mrs. Hill, in great astonishment, "don't you know +there is an express come for master from Mr. Gardiner? He has been here +this half-hour, and master has had a letter." + +Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for speech. They +ran through the vestibule into the breakfast-room; from thence to the +library; their father was in neither; and they were on the point of +seeking him upstairs with their mother, when they were met by the +butler, who said: + +"If you are looking for my master, ma'am, he is walking towards the +little copse." + +Upon this information, they instantly passed through the hall once +more, and ran across the lawn after their father, who was deliberately +pursuing his way towards a small wood on one side of the paddock. + +Jane, who was not so light nor so much in the habit of running as +Elizabeth, soon lagged behind, while her sister, panting for breath, +came up with him, and eagerly cried out: + +"Oh, papa, what news--what news? Have you heard from my uncle?" + +"Yes I have had a letter from him by express." + +"Well, and what news does it bring--good or bad?" + +"What is there of good to be expected?" said he, taking the letter from +his pocket. "But perhaps you would like to read it." + +Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand. Jane now came up. + +"Read it aloud," said their father, "for I hardly know myself what it is +about." + +"Gracechurch Street, Monday, August 2. + +"MY DEAR BROTHER, + +"At last I am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and such as, +upon the whole, I hope it will give you satisfaction. Soon after you +left me on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to find out in what part of +London they were. The particulars I reserve till we meet; it is enough +to know they are discovered. I have seen them both--" + +"Then it is as I always hoped," cried Jane; "they are married!" + +Elizabeth read on: + +"I have seen them both. They are not married, nor can I find there +was any intention of being so; but if you are willing to perform the +engagements which I have ventured to make on your side, I hope it will +not be long before they are. All that is required of you is, to assure +to your daughter, by settlement, her equal share of the five thousand +pounds secured among your children after the decease of yourself and +my sister; and, moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, +during your life, one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions +which, considering everything, I had no hesitation in complying with, +as far as I thought myself privileged, for you. I shall send this by +express, that no time may be lost in bringing me your answer. You +will easily comprehend, from these particulars, that Mr. Wickham's +circumstances are not so hopeless as they are generally believed to be. +The world has been deceived in that respect; and I am happy to say there +will be some little money, even when all his debts are discharged, to +settle on my niece, in addition to her own fortune. If, as I conclude +will be the case, you send me full powers to act in your name throughout +the whole of this business, I will immediately give directions to +Haggerston for preparing a proper settlement. There will not be the +smallest occasion for your coming to town again; therefore stay quiet at +Longbourn, and depend on my diligence and care. Send back your answer as +fast as you can, and be careful to write explicitly. We have judged it +best that my niece should be married from this house, of which I hope +you will approve. She comes to us to-day. I shall write again as soon as +anything more is determined on. Yours, etc., + +"EDW. GARDINER." + +"Is it possible?" cried Elizabeth, when she had finished. "Can it be +possible that he will marry her?" + +"Wickham is not so undeserving, then, as we thought him," said her +sister. "My dear father, I congratulate you." + +"And have you answered the letter?" cried Elizabeth. + +"No; but it must be done soon." + +Most earnestly did she then entreaty him to lose no more time before he +wrote. + +"Oh! my dear father," she cried, "come back and write immediately. +Consider how important every moment is in such a case." + +"Let me write for you," said Jane, "if you dislike the trouble +yourself." + +"I dislike it very much," he replied; "but it must be done." + +And so saying, he turned back with them, and walked towards the house. + +"And may I ask--" said Elizabeth; "but the terms, I suppose, must be +complied with." + +"Complied with! I am only ashamed of his asking so little." + +"And they _must_ marry! Yet he is _such_ a man!" + +"Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done. But there +are two things that I want very much to know; one is, how much money +your uncle has laid down to bring it about; and the other, how am I ever +to pay him." + +"Money! My uncle!" cried Jane, "what do you mean, sir?" + +"I mean, that no man in his senses would marry Lydia on so slight a +temptation as one hundred a year during my life, and fifty after I am +gone." + +"That is very true," said Elizabeth; "though it had not occurred to me +before. His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh! +it must be my uncle's doings! Generous, good man, I am afraid he has +distressed himself. A small sum could not do all this." + +"No," said her father; "Wickham's a fool if he takes her with a farthing +less than ten thousand pounds. I should be sorry to think so ill of him, +in the very beginning of our relationship." + +"Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum to be +repaid?" + +Mr. Bennet made no answer, and each of them, deep in thought, continued +silent till they reached the house. Their father then went on to the +library to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast-room. + +"And they are really to be married!" cried Elizabeth, as soon as they +were by themselves. "How strange this is! And for _this_ we are to be +thankful. That they should marry, small as is their chance of happiness, +and wretched as is his character, we are forced to rejoice. Oh, Lydia!" + +"I comfort myself with thinking," replied Jane, "that he certainly would +not marry Lydia if he had not a real regard for her. Though our kind +uncle has done something towards clearing him, I cannot believe that ten +thousand pounds, or anything like it, has been advanced. He has children +of his own, and may have more. How could he spare half ten thousand +pounds?" + +"If he were ever able to learn what Wickham's debts have been," said +Elizabeth, "and how much is settled on his side on our sister, we shall +exactly know what Mr. Gardiner has done for them, because Wickham has +not sixpence of his own. The kindness of my uncle and aunt can never +be requited. Their taking her home, and affording her their personal +protection and countenance, is such a sacrifice to her advantage as +years of gratitude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time she is +actually with them! If such goodness does not make her miserable now, +she will never deserve to be happy! What a meeting for her, when she +first sees my aunt!" + +"We must endeavour to forget all that has passed on either side," said +Jane: "I hope and trust they will yet be happy. His consenting to +marry her is a proof, I will believe, that he is come to a right way of +thinking. Their mutual affection will steady them; and I flatter myself +they will settle so quietly, and live in so rational a manner, as may in +time make their past imprudence forgotten." + +"Their conduct has been such," replied Elizabeth, "as neither you, nor +I, nor anybody can ever forget. It is useless to talk of it." + +It now occurred to the girls that their mother was in all likelihood +perfectly ignorant of what had happened. They went to the library, +therefore, and asked their father whether he would not wish them to make +it known to her. He was writing and, without raising his head, coolly +replied: + +"Just as you please." + +"May we take my uncle's letter to read to her?" + +"Take whatever you like, and get away." + +Elizabeth took the letter from his writing-table, and they went upstairs +together. Mary and Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet: one communication +would, therefore, do for all. After a slight preparation for good news, +the letter was read aloud. Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain herself. As +soon as Jane had read Mr. Gardiner's hope of Lydia's being soon +married, her joy burst forth, and every following sentence added to its +exuberance. She was now in an irritation as violent from delight, as she +had ever been fidgety from alarm and vexation. To know that her daughter +would be married was enough. She was disturbed by no fear for her +felicity, nor humbled by any remembrance of her misconduct. + +"My dear, dear Lydia!" she cried. "This is delightful indeed! She will +be married! I shall see her again! She will be married at sixteen! +My good, kind brother! I knew how it would be. I knew he would manage +everything! How I long to see her! and to see dear Wickham too! But the +clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister Gardiner about +them directly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him +how much he will give her. Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell, +Kitty, for Hill. I will put on my things in a moment. My dear, dear +Lydia! How merry we shall be together when we meet!" + +Her eldest daughter endeavoured to give some relief to the violence of +these transports, by leading her thoughts to the obligations which Mr. +Gardiner's behaviour laid them all under. + +"For we must attribute this happy conclusion," she added, "in a great +measure to his kindness. We are persuaded that he has pledged himself to +assist Mr. Wickham with money." + +"Well," cried her mother, "it is all very right; who should do it but +her own uncle? If he had not had a family of his own, I and my children +must have had all his money, you know; and it is the first time we have +ever had anything from him, except a few presents. Well! I am so happy! +In a short time I shall have a daughter married. Mrs. Wickham! How well +it sounds! And she was only sixteen last June. My dear Jane, I am in +such a flutter, that I am sure I can't write; so I will dictate, and +you write for me. We will settle with your father about the money +afterwards; but the things should be ordered immediately." + +She was then proceeding to all the particulars of calico, muslin, and +cambric, and would shortly have dictated some very plentiful orders, had +not Jane, though with some difficulty, persuaded her to wait till her +father was at leisure to be consulted. One day's delay, she observed, +would be of small importance; and her mother was too happy to be quite +so obstinate as usual. Other schemes, too, came into her head. + +"I will go to Meryton," said she, "as soon as I am dressed, and tell the +good, good news to my sister Philips. And as I come back, I can call +on Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Kitty, run down and order the carriage. +An airing would do me a great deal of good, I am sure. Girls, can I do +anything for you in Meryton? Oh! Here comes Hill! My dear Hill, have you +heard the good news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and you shall +all have a bowl of punch to make merry at her wedding." + +Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her joy. Elizabeth received her +congratulations amongst the rest, and then, sick of this folly, took +refuge in her own room, that she might think with freedom. + +Poor Lydia's situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was +no worse, she had need to be thankful. She felt it so; and though, in +looking forward, neither rational happiness nor worldly prosperity could +be justly expected for her sister, in looking back to what they had +feared, only two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they had +gained. + + + +Chapter 50 + + +Mr. Bennet had very often wished before this period of his life that, +instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum for +the better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived +him. He now wished it more than ever. Had he done his duty in that +respect, Lydia need not have been indebted to her uncle for whatever +of honour or credit could now be purchased for her. The satisfaction of +prevailing on one of the most worthless young men in Great Britain to be +her husband might then have rested in its proper place. + +He was seriously concerned that a cause of so little advantage to anyone +should be forwarded at the sole expense of his brother-in-law, and he +was determined, if possible, to find out the extent of his assistance, +and to discharge the obligation as soon as he could. + +When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly +useless, for, of course, they were to have a son. The son was to join +in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow +and younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters +successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs. +Bennet, for many years after Lydia's birth, had been certain that he +would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it was then +too late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy, and her +husband's love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their +income. + +Five thousand pounds was settled by marriage articles on Mrs. Bennet and +the children. But in what proportions it should be divided amongst the +latter depended on the will of the parents. This was one point, with +regard to Lydia, at least, which was now to be settled, and Mr. Bennet +could have no hesitation in acceding to the proposal before him. In +terms of grateful acknowledgment for the kindness of his brother, +though expressed most concisely, he then delivered on paper his perfect +approbation of all that was done, and his willingness to fulfil the +engagements that had been made for him. He had never before supposed +that, could Wickham be prevailed on to marry his daughter, it would +be done with so little inconvenience to himself as by the present +arrangement. He would scarcely be ten pounds a year the loser by the +hundred that was to be paid them; for, what with her board and pocket +allowance, and the continual presents in money which passed to her +through her mother's hands, Lydia's expenses had been very little within +that sum. + +That it would be done with such trifling exertion on his side, too, was +another very welcome surprise; for his wish at present was to have as +little trouble in the business as possible. When the first transports +of rage which had produced his activity in seeking her were over, he +naturally returned to all his former indolence. His letter was soon +dispatched; for, though dilatory in undertaking business, he was quick +in its execution. He begged to know further particulars of what he +was indebted to his brother, but was too angry with Lydia to send any +message to her. + +The good news spread quickly through the house, and with proportionate +speed through the neighbourhood. It was borne in the latter with decent +philosophy. To be sure, it would have been more for the advantage +of conversation had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as the +happiest alternative, been secluded from the world, in some distant +farmhouse. But there was much to be talked of in marrying her; and the +good-natured wishes for her well-doing which had proceeded before from +all the spiteful old ladies in Meryton lost but a little of their spirit +in this change of circumstances, because with such an husband her misery +was considered certain. + +It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been downstairs; but on this +happy day she again took her seat at the head of her table, and in +spirits oppressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a damp to her +triumph. The marriage of a daughter, which had been the first object +of her wishes since Jane was sixteen, was now on the point of +accomplishment, and her thoughts and her words ran wholly on those +attendants of elegant nuptials, fine muslins, new carriages, and +servants. She was busily searching through the neighbourhood for a +proper situation for her daughter, and, without knowing or considering +what their income might be, rejected many as deficient in size and +importance. + +"Haye Park might do," said she, "if the Gouldings could quit it--or the +great house at Stoke, if the drawing-room were larger; but Ashworth is +too far off! I could not bear to have her ten miles from me; and as for +Pulvis Lodge, the attics are dreadful." + +Her husband allowed her to talk on without interruption while the +servants remained. But when they had withdrawn, he said to her: "Mrs. +Bennet, before you take any or all of these houses for your son and +daughter, let us come to a right understanding. Into _one_ house in this +neighbourhood they shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the +impudence of either, by receiving them at Longbourn." + +A long dispute followed this declaration; but Mr. Bennet was firm. It +soon led to another; and Mrs. Bennet found, with amazement and horror, +that her husband would not advance a guinea to buy clothes for his +daughter. He protested that she should receive from him no mark of +affection whatever on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehend +it. That his anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivable +resentment as to refuse his daughter a privilege without which her +marriage would scarcely seem valid, exceeded all she could believe +possible. She was more alive to the disgrace which her want of new +clothes must reflect on her daughter's nuptials, than to any sense of +shame at her eloping and living with Wickham a fortnight before they +took place. + +Elizabeth was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress of +the moment, been led to make Mr. Darcy acquainted with their fears for +her sister; for since her marriage would so shortly give the +proper termination to the elopement, they might hope to conceal its +unfavourable beginning from all those who were not immediately on the +spot. + +She had no fear of its spreading farther through his means. There were +few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended; +but, at the same time, there was no one whose knowledge of a sister's +frailty would have mortified her so much--not, however, from any fear +of disadvantage from it individually to herself, for, at any rate, +there seemed a gulf impassable between them. Had Lydia's marriage been +concluded on the most honourable terms, it was not to be supposed that +Mr. Darcy would connect himself with a family where, to every other +objection, would now be added an alliance and relationship of the +nearest kind with a man whom he so justly scorned. + +From such a connection she could not wonder that he would shrink. The +wish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of his +feeling in Derbyshire, could not in rational expectation survive such a +blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she +hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no +longer hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there +seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that +she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they +should meet. + +What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the +proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would now +have been most gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she +doubted not, as the most generous of his sex; but while he was mortal, +there must be a triumph. + +She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in +disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and +temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It +was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease +and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved; +and from his judgement, information, and knowledge of the world, she +must have received benefit of greater importance. + +But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what +connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and +precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their +family. + +How Wickham and Lydia were to be supported in tolerable independence, +she could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness could +belong to a couple who were only brought together because their passions +were stronger than their virtue, she could easily conjecture. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to his brother. To Mr. Bennet's +acknowledgments he briefly replied, with assurance of his eagerness to +promote the welfare of any of his family; and concluded with entreaties +that the subject might never be mentioned to him again. The principal +purport of his letter was to inform them that Mr. Wickham had resolved +on quitting the militia. + +"It was greatly my wish that he should do so," he added, "as soon as +his marriage was fixed on. And I think you will agree with me, in +considering the removal from that corps as highly advisable, both on +his account and my niece's. It is Mr. Wickham's intention to go into +the regulars; and among his former friends, there are still some who +are able and willing to assist him in the army. He has the promise of an +ensigncy in General ----'s regiment, now quartered in the North. It +is an advantage to have it so far from this part of the kingdom. He +promises fairly; and I hope among different people, where they may each +have a character to preserve, they will both be more prudent. I have +written to Colonel Forster, to inform him of our present arrangements, +and to request that he will satisfy the various creditors of Mr. Wickham +in and near Brighton, with assurances of speedy payment, for which I +have pledged myself. And will you give yourself the trouble of carrying +similar assurances to his creditors in Meryton, of whom I shall subjoin +a list according to his information? He has given in all his debts; I +hope at least he has not deceived us. Haggerston has our directions, +and all will be completed in a week. They will then join his regiment, +unless they are first invited to Longbourn; and I understand from Mrs. +Gardiner, that my niece is very desirous of seeing you all before she +leaves the South. She is well, and begs to be dutifully remembered to +you and your mother.--Yours, etc., + +"E. GARDINER." + +Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all the advantages of Wickham's removal +from the ----shire as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do. But Mrs. Bennet +was not so well pleased with it. Lydia's being settled in the North, +just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her company, +for she had by no means given up her plan of their residing in +Hertfordshire, was a severe disappointment; and, besides, it was such a +pity that Lydia should be taken from a regiment where she was acquainted +with everybody, and had so many favourites. + +"She is so fond of Mrs. Forster," said she, "it will be quite shocking +to send her away! And there are several of the young men, too, that she +likes very much. The officers may not be so pleasant in General----'s +regiment." + +His daughter's request, for such it might be considered, of being +admitted into her family again before she set off for the North, +received at first an absolute negative. But Jane and Elizabeth, +who agreed in wishing, for the sake of their sister's feelings and +consequence, that she should be noticed on her marriage by her parents, +urged him so earnestly yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive her +and her husband at Longbourn, as soon as they were married, that he was +prevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they wished. And their +mother had the satisfaction of knowing that she would be able to show +her married daughter in the neighbourhood before she was banished to the +North. When Mr. Bennet wrote again to his brother, therefore, he sent +his permission for them to come; and it was settled, that as soon as +the ceremony was over, they should proceed to Longbourn. Elizabeth was +surprised, however, that Wickham should consent to such a scheme, and +had she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with him would +have been the last object of her wishes. + + + +Chapter 51 + + +Their sister's wedding day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her +probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to +meet them at ----, and they were to return in it by dinner-time. Their +arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets, and Jane more especially, +who gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had she +been the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her sister +must endure. + +They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room to receive +them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the carriage drove up to +the door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed, +anxious, uneasy. + +Lydia's voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and +she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and +welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand, with an affectionate smile, +to Wickham, who followed his lady; and wished them both joy with an +alacrity which shewed no doubt of their happiness. + +Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite +so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely +opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was +enough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet +was shocked. Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, +and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their +congratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly +round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and +observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been +there. + +Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners +were always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage been +exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he +claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had +not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down, +resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence +of an impudent man. She blushed, and Jane blushed; but the cheeks of the +two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour. + +There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither +of them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit near +Elizabeth, began inquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood, +with a good humoured ease which she felt very unable to equal in her +replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the +world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led +voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for +the world. + +"Only think of its being three months," she cried, "since I went away; +it seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things +enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure +I had no more idea of being married till I came back again! though I +thought it would be very good fun if I was." + +Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth looked +expressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw anything of +which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, "Oh! mamma, do the +people hereabouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might not; +and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he +should know it, and so I let down the side-glass next to him, and took +off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that +he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like anything." + +Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room; +and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to +the dining parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with +anxious parade, walk up to her mother's right hand, and hear her say +to her eldest sister, "Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must go +lower, because I am a married woman." + +It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment +from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good +spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Phillips, the Lucases, and +all their other neighbours, and to hear herself called "Mrs. Wickham" +by each of them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to show her +ring, and boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids. + +"Well, mamma," said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast +room, "and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? I +am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half +my good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get +husbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go." + +"Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Lydia, I don't +at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?" + +"Oh, lord! yes;--there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all +things. You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We +shall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some +balls, and I will take care to get good partners for them all." + +"I should like it beyond anything!" said her mother. + +"And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters +behind you; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the +winter is over." + +"I thank you for my share of the favour," said Elizabeth; "but I do not +particularly like your way of getting husbands." + +Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham +had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join +his regiment at the end of a fortnight. + +No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short; and +she made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter, and +having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to +all; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did +think, than such as did not. + +Wickham's affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected +to find it; not equal to Lydia's for him. She had scarcely needed her +present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that +their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, rather +than by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring +for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain +that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and +if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity +of having a companion. + +Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every +occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did every +thing best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds on +the first of September, than any body else in the country. + +One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two +elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth: + +"Lizzy, I never gave _you_ an account of my wedding, I believe. You +were not by, when I told mamma and the others all about it. Are not you +curious to hear how it was managed?" + +"No really," replied Elizabeth; "I think there cannot be too little said +on the subject." + +"La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were +married, you know, at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were in +that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven +o'clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others +were to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in +such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to +put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was +my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as +if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in +ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed +to know whether he would be married in his blue coat." + +"Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never +be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and aunt +were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you'll believe +me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a +fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything. To be sure London was +rather thin, but, however, the Little Theatre was open. Well, and so +just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon +business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once +they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I +did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we +were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he +came back again in ten minutes' time, and then we all set out. However, +I recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going, the +wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well." + +"Mr. Darcy!" repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement. + +"Oh, yes!--he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But gracious +me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised +them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!" + +"If it was to be secret," said Jane, "say not another word on the +subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further." + +"Oh! certainly," said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; "we will +ask you no questions." + +"Thank you," said Lydia, "for if you did, I should certainly tell you +all, and then Wickham would be angry." + +On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her +power, by running away. + +But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least +it was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at +her sister's wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, +where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. +Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her +brain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as +placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She +could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, +wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what +Lydia had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been +intended. + +"You may readily comprehend," she added, "what my curiosity must be +to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively +speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such +a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it--unless it is, +for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems +to think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with +ignorance." + +"Not that I _shall_, though," she added to herself, as she finished +the letter; "and my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable +manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it +out." + +Jane's delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to +Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad +of it;--till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any +satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante. + + + +Chapter 52 + + +Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter as +soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it +than, hurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely to +be interrupted, she sat down on one of the benches and prepared to +be happy; for the length of the letter convinced her that it did not +contain a denial. + +"Gracechurch street, Sept. 6. + +"MY DEAR NIECE, + +"I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole morning +to answering it, as I foresee that a _little_ writing will not comprise +what I have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by your +application; I did not expect it from _you_. Don't think me angry, +however, for I only mean to let you know that I had not imagined such +inquiries to be necessary on _your_ side. If you do not choose to +understand me, forgive my impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised +as I am--and nothing but the belief of your being a party concerned +would have allowed him to act as he has done. But if you are really +innocent and ignorant, I must be more explicit. + +"On the very day of my coming home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most +unexpected visitor. Mr. Darcy called, and was shut up with him several +hours. It was all over before I arrived; so my curiosity was not so +dreadfully racked as _your's_ seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. +Gardiner that he had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, +and that he had seen and talked with them both; Wickham repeatedly, +Lydia once. From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day +after ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting for +them. The motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to +himself that Wickham's worthlessness had not been so well known as to +make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or confide +in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride, and +confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to lay his private +actions open to the world. His character was to speak for itself. He +called it, therefore, his duty to step forward, and endeavour to remedy +an evil which had been brought on by himself. If he _had another_ +motive, I am sure it would never disgrace him. He had been some days +in town, before he was able to discover them; but he had something to +direct his search, which was more than _we_ had; and the consciousness +of this was another reason for his resolving to follow us. + +"There is a lady, it seems, a Mrs. Younge, who was some time ago +governess to Miss Darcy, and was dismissed from her charge on some cause +of disapprobation, though he did not say what. She then took a large +house in Edward-street, and has since maintained herself by letting +lodgings. This Mrs. Younge was, he knew, intimately acquainted with +Wickham; and he went to her for intelligence of him as soon as he got to +town. But it was two or three days before he could get from her what he +wanted. She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery and +corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be found. +Wickham indeed had gone to her on their first arrival in London, and had +she been able to receive them into her house, they would have taken up +their abode with her. At length, however, our kind friend procured the +wished-for direction. They were in ---- street. He saw Wickham, and +afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia. His first object with her, he +acknowledged, had been to persuade her to quit her present disgraceful +situation, and return to her friends as soon as they could be prevailed +on to receive her, offering his assistance, as far as it would go. But +he found Lydia absolutely resolved on remaining where she was. She cared +for none of her friends; she wanted no help of his; she would not hear +of leaving Wickham. She was sure they should be married some time or +other, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her feelings, +it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite a marriage, which, +in his very first conversation with Wickham, he easily learnt had never +been _his_ design. He confessed himself obliged to leave the regiment, +on account of some debts of honour, which were very pressing; and +scrupled not to lay all the ill-consequences of Lydia's flight on her +own folly alone. He meant to resign his commission immediately; and as +to his future situation, he could conjecture very little about it. He +must go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should have +nothing to live on. + +"Mr. Darcy asked him why he had not married your sister at once. Though +Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich, he would have been able +to do something for him, and his situation must have been benefited by +marriage. But he found, in reply to this question, that Wickham still +cherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage in +some other country. Under such circumstances, however, he was not likely +to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief. + +"They met several times, for there was much to be discussed. Wickham of +course wanted more than he could get; but at length was reduced to be +reasonable. + +"Every thing being settled between _them_, Mr. Darcy's next step was to +make your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in Gracechurch +street the evening before I came home. But Mr. Gardiner could not be +seen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further inquiry, that your father was +still with him, but would quit town the next morning. He did not judge +your father to be a person whom he could so properly consult as your +uncle, and therefore readily postponed seeing him till after the +departure of the former. He did not leave his name, and till the next +day it was only known that a gentleman had called on business. + +"On Saturday he came again. Your father was gone, your uncle at home, +and, as I said before, they had a great deal of talk together. + +"They met again on Sunday, and then _I_ saw him too. It was not all +settled before Monday: as soon as it was, the express was sent off to +Longbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy, that +obstinacy is the real defect of his character, after all. He has been +accused of many faults at different times, but _this_ is the true one. +Nothing was to be done that he did not do himself; though I am sure (and +I do not speak it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about it), your +uncle would most readily have settled the whole. + +"They battled it together for a long time, which was more than either +the gentleman or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last your uncle +was forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his +niece, was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it, +which went sorely against the grain; and I really believe your letter +this morning gave him great pleasure, because it required an explanation +that would rob him of his borrowed feathers, and give the praise where +it was due. But, Lizzy, this must go no farther than yourself, or Jane +at most. + +"You know pretty well, I suppose, what has been done for the young +people. His debts are to be paid, amounting, I believe, to considerably +more than a thousand pounds, another thousand in addition to her own +settled upon _her_, and his commission purchased. The reason why all +this was to be done by him alone, was such as I have given above. It +was owing to him, to his reserve and want of proper consideration, that +Wickham's character had been so misunderstood, and consequently that he +had been received and noticed as he was. Perhaps there was some truth +in _this_; though I doubt whether _his_ reserve, or _anybody's_ reserve, +can be answerable for the event. But in spite of all this fine talking, +my dear Lizzy, you may rest perfectly assured that your uncle would +never have yielded, if we had not given him credit for _another +interest_ in the affair. + +"When all this was resolved on, he returned again to his friends, who +were still staying at Pemberley; but it was agreed that he should be in +London once more when the wedding took place, and all money matters were +then to receive the last finish. + +"I believe I have now told you every thing. It is a relation which +you tell me is to give you great surprise; I hope at least it will not +afford you any displeasure. Lydia came to us; and Wickham had constant +admission to the house. _He_ was exactly what he had been, when I +knew him in Hertfordshire; but I would not tell you how little I was +satisfied with her behaviour while she staid with us, if I had not +perceived, by Jane's letter last Wednesday, that her conduct on coming +home was exactly of a piece with it, and therefore what I now tell +you can give you no fresh pain. I talked to her repeatedly in the most +serious manner, representing to her all the wickedness of what she had +done, and all the unhappiness she had brought on her family. If she +heard me, it was by good luck, for I am sure she did not listen. I was +sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollected my dear Elizabeth and +Jane, and for their sakes had patience with her. + +"Mr. Darcy was punctual in his return, and as Lydia informed you, +attended the wedding. He dined with us the next day, and was to leave +town again on Wednesday or Thursday. Will you be very angry with me, my +dear Lizzy, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold +enough to say before) how much I like him. His behaviour to us has, +in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. His +understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but a little +more liveliness, and _that_, if he marry _prudently_, his wife may teach +him. I thought him very sly;--he hardly ever mentioned your name. But +slyness seems the fashion. + +"Pray forgive me if I have been very presuming, or at least do not +punish me so far as to exclude me from P. I shall never be quite happy +till I have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice little +pair of ponies, would be the very thing. + +"But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me this half +hour. + +"Yours, very sincerely, + +"M. GARDINER." + +The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter of spirits, +in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the +greatest share. The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had +produced of what Mr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister's +match, which she had feared to encourage as an exertion of goodness too +great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just, from the +pain of obligation, were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true! +He had followed them purposely to town, he had taken on himself all +the trouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in which +supplication had been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and +despise, and where he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason +with, persuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he always most wished to +avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce. He had +done all this for a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem. Her +heart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it was a hope shortly +checked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her vanity +was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her--for +a woman who had already refused him--as able to overcome a sentiment so +natural as abhorrence against relationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law +of Wickham! Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. He had, +to be sure, done much. She was ashamed to think how much. But he had +given a reason for his interference, which asked no extraordinary +stretch of belief. It was reasonable that he should feel he had been +wrong; he had liberality, and he had the means of exercising it; and +though she would not place herself as his principal inducement, she +could, perhaps, believe that remaining partiality for her might assist +his endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be materially +concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that they were +under obligations to a person who could never receive a return. They +owed the restoration of Lydia, her character, every thing, to him. Oh! +how heartily did she grieve over every ungracious sensation she had ever +encouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed towards him. For +herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him. Proud that in a cause +of compassion and honour, he had been able to get the better of himself. +She read over her aunt's commendation of him again and again. It +was hardly enough; but it pleased her. She was even sensible of some +pleasure, though mixed with regret, on finding how steadfastly both she +and her uncle had been persuaded that affection and confidence subsisted +between Mr. Darcy and herself. + +She was roused from her seat, and her reflections, by some one's +approach; and before she could strike into another path, she was +overtaken by Wickham. + +"I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear sister?" said he, +as he joined her. + +"You certainly do," she replied with a smile; "but it does not follow +that the interruption must be unwelcome." + +"I should be sorry indeed, if it were. We were always good friends; and +now we are better." + +"True. Are the others coming out?" + +"I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in the carriage to +Meryton. And so, my dear sister, I find, from our uncle and aunt, that +you have actually seen Pemberley." + +She replied in the affirmative. + +"I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would be too much +for me, or else I could take it in my way to Newcastle. And you saw the +old housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Reynolds, she was always very fond of +me. But of course she did not mention my name to you." + +"Yes, she did." + +"And what did she say?" + +"That you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had--not turned +out well. At such a distance as _that_, you know, things are strangely +misrepresented." + +"Certainly," he replied, biting his lips. Elizabeth hoped she had +silenced him; but he soon afterwards said: + +"I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month. We passed each other +several times. I wonder what he can be doing there." + +"Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh," said +Elizabeth. "It must be something particular, to take him there at this +time of year." + +"Undoubtedly. Did you see him while you were at Lambton? I thought I +understood from the Gardiners that you had." + +"Yes; he introduced us to his sister." + +"And do you like her?" + +"Very much." + +"I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved within this year +or two. When I last saw her, she was not very promising. I am very glad +you liked her. I hope she will turn out well." + +"I dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age." + +"Did you go by the village of Kympton?" + +"I do not recollect that we did." + +"I mention it, because it is the living which I ought to have had. A +most delightful place!--Excellent Parsonage House! It would have suited +me in every respect." + +"How should you have liked making sermons?" + +"Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty, +and the exertion would soon have been nothing. One ought not to +repine;--but, to be sure, it would have been such a thing for me! The +quiet, the retirement of such a life would have answered all my ideas +of happiness! But it was not to be. Did you ever hear Darcy mention the +circumstance, when you were in Kent?" + +"I have heard from authority, which I thought _as good_, that it was +left you conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron." + +"You have. Yes, there was something in _that_; I told you so from the +first, you may remember." + +"I _did_ hear, too, that there was a time, when sermon-making was not +so palatable to you as it seems to be at present; that you actually +declared your resolution of never taking orders, and that the business +had been compromised accordingly." + +"You did! and it was not wholly without foundation. You may remember +what I told you on that point, when first we talked of it." + +They were now almost at the door of the house, for she had walked fast +to get rid of him; and unwilling, for her sister's sake, to provoke him, +she only said in reply, with a good-humoured smile: + +"Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister, you know. Do not let +us quarrel about the past. In future, I hope we shall be always of one +mind." + +She held out her hand; he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though +he hardly knew how to look, and they entered the house. + + + +Chapter 53 + + +Mr. Wickham was so perfectly satisfied with this conversation that he +never again distressed himself, or provoked his dear sister Elizabeth, +by introducing the subject of it; and she was pleased to find that she +had said enough to keep him quiet. + +The day of his and Lydia's departure soon came, and Mrs. Bennet was +forced to submit to a separation, which, as her husband by no means +entered into her scheme of their all going to Newcastle, was likely to +continue at least a twelvemonth. + +"Oh! my dear Lydia," she cried, "when shall we meet again?" + +"Oh, lord! I don't know. Not these two or three years, perhaps." + +"Write to me very often, my dear." + +"As often as I can. But you know married women have never much time for +writing. My sisters may write to _me_. They will have nothing else to +do." + +Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affectionate than his wife's. He +smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things. + +"He is as fine a fellow," said Mr. Bennet, as soon as they were out of +the house, "as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to +us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir William Lucas +himself to produce a more valuable son-in-law." + +The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days. + +"I often think," said she, "that there is nothing so bad as parting with +one's friends. One seems so forlorn without them." + +"This is the consequence, you see, Madam, of marrying a daughter," said +Elizabeth. "It must make you better satisfied that your other four are +single." + +"It is no such thing. Lydia does not leave me because she is married, +but only because her husband's regiment happens to be so far off. If +that had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon." + +But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into was shortly +relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by an +article of news which then began to be in circulation. The housekeeper +at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her +master, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for several +weeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She looked at Jane, and +smiled and shook her head by turns. + +"Well, well, and so Mr. Bingley is coming down, sister," (for Mrs. +Phillips first brought her the news). "Well, so much the better. Not +that I care about it, though. He is nothing to us, you know, and I am +sure _I_ never want to see him again. But, however, he is very welcome +to come to Netherfield, if he likes it. And who knows what _may_ happen? +But that is nothing to us. You know, sister, we agreed long ago never to +mention a word about it. And so, is it quite certain he is coming?" + +"You may depend on it," replied the other, "for Mrs. Nicholls was in +Meryton last night; I saw her passing by, and went out myself on purpose +to know the truth of it; and she told me that it was certain true. He +comes down on Thursday at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. She was +going to the butcher's, she told me, on purpose to order in some meat on +Wednesday, and she has got three couple of ducks just fit to be killed." + +Miss Bennet had not been able to hear of his coming without changing +colour. It was many months since she had mentioned his name to +Elizabeth; but now, as soon as they were alone together, she said: + +"I saw you look at me to-day, Lizzy, when my aunt told us of the present +report; and I know I appeared distressed. But don't imagine it was from +any silly cause. I was only confused for the moment, because I felt that +I _should_ be looked at. I do assure you that the news does not affect +me either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thing, that he comes +alone; because we shall see the less of him. Not that I am afraid of +_myself_, but I dread other people's remarks." + +Elizabeth did not know what to make of it. Had she not seen him in +Derbyshire, she might have supposed him capable of coming there with no +other view than what was acknowledged; but she still thought him partial +to Jane, and she wavered as to the greater probability of his coming +there _with_ his friend's permission, or being bold enough to come +without it. + +"Yet it is hard," she sometimes thought, "that this poor man cannot +come to a house which he has legally hired, without raising all this +speculation! I _will_ leave him to himself." + +In spite of what her sister declared, and really believed to be her +feelings in the expectation of his arrival, Elizabeth could easily +perceive that her spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed, +more unequal, than she had often seen them. + +The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents, +about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again. + +"As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "you +will wait on him of course." + +"No, no. You forced me into visiting him last year, and promised, if I +went to see him, he should marry one of my daughters. But it ended in +nothing, and I will not be sent on a fool's errand again." + +His wife represented to him how absolutely necessary such an attention +would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to +Netherfield. + +"'Tis an etiquette I despise," said he. "If he wants our society, +let him seek it. He knows where we live. I will not spend my hours +in running after my neighbours every time they go away and come back +again." + +"Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not wait +on him. But, however, that shan't prevent my asking him to dine here, I +am determined. We must have Mrs. Long and the Gouldings soon. That will +make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at table for +him." + +Consoled by this resolution, she was the better able to bear her +husband's incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that her +neighbours might all see Mr. Bingley, in consequence of it, before +_they_ did. As the day of his arrival drew near: + +"I begin to be sorry that he comes at all," said Jane to her sister. "It +would be nothing; I could see him with perfect indifference, but I can +hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well; +but she does not know, no one can know, how much I suffer from what she +says. Happy shall I be, when his stay at Netherfield is over!" + +"I wish I could say anything to comfort you," replied Elizabeth; "but it +is wholly out of my power. You must feel it; and the usual satisfaction +of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because you have +always so much." + +Mr. Bingley arrived. Mrs. Bennet, through the assistance of servants, +contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety +and fretfulness on her side might be as long as it could. She counted +the days that must intervene before their invitation could be sent; +hopeless of seeing him before. But on the third morning after his +arrival in Hertfordshire, she saw him, from her dressing-room window, +enter the paddock and ride towards the house. + +Her daughters were eagerly called to partake of her joy. Jane resolutely +kept her place at the table; but Elizabeth, to satisfy her mother, went +to the window--she looked,--she saw Mr. Darcy with him, and sat down +again by her sister. + +"There is a gentleman with him, mamma," said Kitty; "who can it be?" + +"Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not +know." + +"La!" replied Kitty, "it looks just like that man that used to be with +him before. Mr. what's-his-name. That tall, proud man." + +"Good gracious! Mr. Darcy!--and so it does, I vow. Well, any friend of +Mr. Bingley's will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I must +say that I hate the very sight of him." + +Jane looked at Elizabeth with surprise and concern. She knew but little +of their meeting in Derbyshire, and therefore felt for the awkwardness +which must attend her sister, in seeing him almost for the first time +after receiving his explanatory letter. Both sisters were uncomfortable +enough. Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves; and their +mother talked on, of her dislike of Mr. Darcy, and her resolution to be +civil to him only as Mr. Bingley's friend, without being heard by either +of them. But Elizabeth had sources of uneasiness which could not be +suspected by Jane, to whom she had never yet had courage to shew Mrs. +Gardiner's letter, or to relate her own change of sentiment towards him. +To Jane, he could be only a man whose proposals she had refused, +and whose merit she had undervalued; but to her own more extensive +information, he was the person to whom the whole family were indebted +for the first of benefits, and whom she regarded herself with an +interest, if not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and just as +what Jane felt for Bingley. Her astonishment at his coming--at his +coming to Netherfield, to Longbourn, and voluntarily seeking her again, +was almost equal to what she had known on first witnessing his altered +behaviour in Derbyshire. + +The colour which had been driven from her face, returned for half a +minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to +her eyes, as she thought for that space of time that his affection and +wishes must still be unshaken. But she would not be secure. + +"Let me first see how he behaves," said she; "it will then be early +enough for expectation." + +She sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to +lift up her eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of +her sister as the servant was approaching the door. Jane looked a little +paler than usual, but more sedate than Elizabeth had expected. On the +gentlemen's appearing, her colour increased; yet she received them with +tolerable ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any +symptom of resentment or any unnecessary complaisance. + +Elizabeth said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down +again to her work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. She +had ventured only one glance at Darcy. He looked serious, as usual; and, +she thought, more as he had been used to look in Hertfordshire, than as +she had seen him at Pemberley. But, perhaps he could not in her mother's +presence be what he was before her uncle and aunt. It was a painful, but +not an improbable, conjecture. + +Bingley, she had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period +saw him looking both pleased and embarrassed. He was received by Mrs. +Bennet with a degree of civility which made her two daughters ashamed, +especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of +her curtsey and address to his friend. + +Elizabeth, particularly, who knew that her mother owed to the latter +the preservation of her favourite daughter from irremediable infamy, +was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill +applied. + +Darcy, after inquiring of her how Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner did, a question +which she could not answer without confusion, said scarcely anything. He +was not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason of his silence; but +it had not been so in Derbyshire. There he had talked to her friends, +when he could not to herself. But now several minutes elapsed without +bringing the sound of his voice; and when occasionally, unable to resist +the impulse of curiosity, she raised he eyes to his face, she as often +found him looking at Jane as at herself, and frequently on no object but +the ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when +they last met, were plainly expressed. She was disappointed, and angry +with herself for being so. + +"Could I expect it to be otherwise!" said she. "Yet why did he come?" + +She was in no humour for conversation with anyone but himself; and to +him she had hardly courage to speak. + +She inquired after his sister, but could do no more. + +"It is a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away," said Mrs. Bennet. + +He readily agreed to it. + +"I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People _did_ say +you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope +it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood, +since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled. And one of my +own daughters. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have +seen it in the papers. It was in The Times and The Courier, I know; +though it was not put in as it ought to be. It was only said, 'Lately, +George Wickham, Esq. to Miss Lydia Bennet,' without there being a +syllable said of her father, or the place where she lived, or anything. +It was my brother Gardiner's drawing up too, and I wonder how he came to +make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?" + +Bingley replied that he did, and made his congratulations. Elizabeth +dared not lift up her eyes. How Mr. Darcy looked, therefore, she could +not tell. + +"It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married," +continued her mother, "but at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very +hard to have her taken such a way from me. They are gone down to +Newcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay +I do not know how long. His regiment is there; for I suppose you have +heard of his leaving the ----shire, and of his being gone into the +regulars. Thank Heaven! he has _some_ friends, though perhaps not so +many as he deserves." + +Elizabeth, who knew this to be levelled at Mr. Darcy, was in such +misery of shame, that she could hardly keep her seat. It drew from her, +however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually +done before; and she asked Bingley whether he meant to make any stay in +the country at present. A few weeks, he believed. + +"When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley," said her mother, +"I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please on Mr. +Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and +will save all the best of the covies for you." + +Elizabeth's misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officious +attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present as had +flattered them a year ago, every thing, she was persuaded, would be +hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant, she felt +that years of happiness could not make Jane or herself amends for +moments of such painful confusion. + +"The first wish of my heart," said she to herself, "is never more to +be in company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure +that will atone for such wretchedness as this! Let me never see either +one or the other again!" + +Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no +compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing +how much the beauty of her sister re-kindled the admiration of her +former lover. When first he came in, he had spoken to her but little; +but every five minutes seemed to be giving her more of his attention. He +found her as handsome as she had been last year; as good natured, and +as unaffected, though not quite so chatty. Jane was anxious that no +difference should be perceived in her at all, and was really persuaded +that she talked as much as ever. But her mind was so busily engaged, +that she did not always know when she was silent. + +When the gentlemen rose to go away, Mrs. Bennet was mindful of her +intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at +Longbourn in a few days time. + +"You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley," she added, "for when +you went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with +us, as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure +you, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep +your engagement." + +Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection, and said something of +his concern at having been prevented by business. They then went away. + +Mrs. Bennet had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine +there that day; but, though she always kept a very good table, she did +not think anything less than two courses could be good enough for a man +on whom she had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride +of one who had ten thousand a year. + + + +Chapter 54 + + +As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits; +or in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects that +must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy's behaviour astonished and vexed her. + +"Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent," said she, +"did he come at all?" + +She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure. + +"He could be still amiable, still pleasing, to my uncle and aunt, when +he was in town; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If +he no longer cares for me, why silent? Teasing, teasing, man! I will +think no more about him." + +Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach +of her sister, who joined her with a cheerful look, which showed her +better satisfied with their visitors, than Elizabeth. + +"Now," said she, "that this first meeting is over, I feel perfectly +easy. I know my own strength, and I shall never be embarrassed again by +his coming. I am glad he dines here on Tuesday. It will then be publicly +seen that, on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferent +acquaintance." + +"Yes, very indifferent indeed," said Elizabeth, laughingly. "Oh, Jane, +take care." + +"My dear Lizzy, you cannot think me so weak, as to be in danger now?" + +"I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with +you as ever." + + * * * * * + +They did not see the gentlemen again till Tuesday; and Mrs. Bennet, in +the meanwhile, was giving way to all the happy schemes, which the good +humour and common politeness of Bingley, in half an hour's visit, had +revived. + +On Tuesday there was a large party assembled at Longbourn; and the two +who were most anxiously expected, to the credit of their punctuality +as sportsmen, were in very good time. When they repaired to the +dining-room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take +the place, which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, by +her sister. Her prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore +to invite him to sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to +hesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and happened to smile: it was +decided. He placed himself by her. + +Elizabeth, with a triumphant sensation, looked towards his friend. +He bore it with noble indifference, and she would have imagined that +Bingley had received his sanction to be happy, had she not seen his eyes +likewise turned towards Mr. Darcy, with an expression of half-laughing +alarm. + +His behaviour to her sister was such, during dinner time, as showed an +admiration of her, which, though more guarded than formerly, persuaded +Elizabeth, that if left wholly to himself, Jane's happiness, and his +own, would be speedily secured. Though she dared not depend upon the +consequence, she yet received pleasure from observing his behaviour. It +gave her all the animation that her spirits could boast; for she was in +no cheerful humour. Mr. Darcy was almost as far from her as the table +could divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little +such a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to +advantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse, but +she could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and +cold was their manner whenever they did. Her mother's ungraciousness, +made the sense of what they owed him more painful to Elizabeth's mind; +and she would, at times, have given anything to be privileged to tell +him that his kindness was neither unknown nor unfelt by the whole of the +family. + +She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of +bringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass away +without enabling them to enter into something more of conversation than +the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious +and uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room, before the +gentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to a degree that almost made her +uncivil. She looked forward to their entrance as the point on which all +her chance of pleasure for the evening must depend. + +"If he does not come to me, _then_," said she, "I shall give him up for +ever." + +The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have +answered her hopes; but, alas! the ladies had crowded round the table, +where Miss Bennet was making tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee, +in so close a confederacy that there was not a single vacancy near her +which would admit of a chair. And on the gentlemen's approaching, one of +the girls moved closer to her than ever, and said, in a whisper: + +"The men shan't come and part us, I am determined. We want none of them; +do we?" + +Darcy had walked away to another part of the room. She followed him with +her eyes, envied everyone to whom he spoke, had scarcely patience enough +to help anybody to coffee; and then was enraged against herself for +being so silly! + +"A man who has once been refused! How could I ever be foolish enough to +expect a renewal of his love? Is there one among the sex, who would not +protest against such a weakness as a second proposal to the same woman? +There is no indignity so abhorrent to their feelings!" + +She was a little revived, however, by his bringing back his coffee cup +himself; and she seized the opportunity of saying: + +"Is your sister at Pemberley still?" + +"Yes, she will remain there till Christmas." + +"And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?" + +"Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough, +these three weeks." + +She could think of nothing more to say; but if he wished to converse +with her, he might have better success. He stood by her, however, for +some minutes, in silence; and, at last, on the young lady's whispering +to Elizabeth again, he walked away. + +When the tea-things were removed, and the card-tables placed, the ladies +all rose, and Elizabeth was then hoping to be soon joined by him, +when all her views were overthrown by seeing him fall a victim to her +mother's rapacity for whist players, and in a few moments after seated +with the rest of the party. She now lost every expectation of pleasure. +They were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had +nothing to hope, but that his eyes were so often turned towards her side +of the room, as to make him play as unsuccessfully as herself. + +Mrs. Bennet had designed to keep the two Netherfield gentlemen to +supper; but their carriage was unluckily ordered before any of the +others, and she had no opportunity of detaining them. + +"Well girls," said she, as soon as they were left to themselves, "What +say you to the day? I think every thing has passed off uncommonly well, +I assure you. The dinner was as well dressed as any I ever saw. The +venison was roasted to a turn--and everybody said they never saw so +fat a haunch. The soup was fifty times better than what we had at the +Lucases' last week; and even Mr. Darcy acknowledged, that the partridges +were remarkably well done; and I suppose he has two or three French +cooks at least. And, my dear Jane, I never saw you look in greater +beauty. Mrs. Long said so too, for I asked her whether you did not. And +what do you think she said besides? 'Ah! Mrs. Bennet, we shall have her +at Netherfield at last.' She did indeed. I do think Mrs. Long is as good +a creature as ever lived--and her nieces are very pretty behaved girls, +and not at all handsome: I like them prodigiously." + +Mrs. Bennet, in short, was in very great spirits; she had seen enough of +Bingley's behaviour to Jane, to be convinced that she would get him at +last; and her expectations of advantage to her family, when in a happy +humour, were so far beyond reason, that she was quite disappointed at +not seeing him there again the next day, to make his proposals. + +"It has been a very agreeable day," said Miss Bennet to Elizabeth. "The +party seemed so well selected, so suitable one with the other. I hope we +may often meet again." + +Elizabeth smiled. + +"Lizzy, you must not do so. You must not suspect me. It mortifies me. +I assure you that I have now learnt to enjoy his conversation as an +agreeable and sensible young man, without having a wish beyond it. I am +perfectly satisfied, from what his manners now are, that he never had +any design of engaging my affection. It is only that he is blessed +with greater sweetness of address, and a stronger desire of generally +pleasing, than any other man." + +"You are very cruel," said her sister, "you will not let me smile, and +are provoking me to it every moment." + +"How hard it is in some cases to be believed!" + +"And how impossible in others!" + +"But why should you wish to persuade me that I feel more than I +acknowledge?" + +"That is a question which I hardly know how to answer. We all love to +instruct, though we can teach only what is not worth knowing. Forgive +me; and if you persist in indifference, do not make me your confidante." + + + +Chapter 55 + + +A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone. His +friend had left him that morning for London, but was to return home in +ten days time. He sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkably +good spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them; but, with many +expressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere. + +"Next time you call," said she, "I hope we shall be more lucky." + +He should be particularly happy at any time, etc. etc.; and if she would +give him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them. + +"Can you come to-morrow?" + +Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and her invitation was +accepted with alacrity. + +He came, and in such very good time that the ladies were none of them +dressed. In ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughter's room, in her dressing +gown, and with her hair half finished, crying out: + +"My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is come--Mr. Bingley is +come. He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss +Bennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss +Lizzy's hair." + +"We will be down as soon as we can," said Jane; "but I dare say Kitty is +forwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hour ago." + +"Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it? Come be quick, be quick! +Where is your sash, my dear?" + +But when her mother was gone, Jane would not be prevailed on to go down +without one of her sisters. + +The same anxiety to get them by themselves was visible again in the +evening. After tea, Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as was his +custom, and Mary went up stairs to her instrument. Two obstacles of +the five being thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and winking at +Elizabeth and Catherine for a considerable time, without making any +impression on them. Elizabeth would not observe her; and when at last +Kitty did, she very innocently said, "What is the matter mamma? What do +you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?" + +"Nothing child, nothing. I did not wink at you." She then sat still +five minutes longer; but unable to waste such a precious occasion, she +suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty, "Come here, my love, I want to +speak to you," took her out of the room. Jane instantly gave a look +at Elizabeth which spoke her distress at such premeditation, and her +entreaty that _she_ would not give in to it. In a few minutes, Mrs. +Bennet half-opened the door and called out: + +"Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you." + +Elizabeth was forced to go. + +"We may as well leave them by themselves you know;" said her mother, as +soon as she was in the hall. "Kitty and I are going upstairs to sit in +my dressing-room." + +Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her mother, but remained +quietly in the hall, till she and Kitty were out of sight, then returned +into the drawing-room. + +Mrs. Bennet's schemes for this day were ineffectual. Bingley was every +thing that was charming, except the professed lover of her daughter. His +ease and cheerfulness rendered him a most agreeable addition to their +evening party; and he bore with the ill-judged officiousness of the +mother, and heard all her silly remarks with a forbearance and command +of countenance particularly grateful to the daughter. + +He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper; and before he went +away, an engagement was formed, chiefly through his own and Mrs. +Bennet's means, for his coming next morning to shoot with her husband. + +After this day, Jane said no more of her indifference. Not a word passed +between the sisters concerning Bingley; but Elizabeth went to bed in +the happy belief that all must speedily be concluded, unless Mr. Darcy +returned within the stated time. Seriously, however, she felt tolerably +persuaded that all this must have taken place with that gentleman's +concurrence. + +Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and he and Mr. Bennet spent +the morning together, as had been agreed on. The latter was much more +agreeable than his companion expected. There was nothing of presumption +or folly in Bingley that could provoke his ridicule, or disgust him into +silence; and he was more communicative, and less eccentric, than the +other had ever seen him. Bingley of course returned with him to dinner; +and in the evening Mrs. Bennet's invention was again at work to get +every body away from him and her daughter. Elizabeth, who had a letter +to write, went into the breakfast room for that purpose soon after tea; +for as the others were all going to sit down to cards, she could not be +wanted to counteract her mother's schemes. + +But on returning to the drawing-room, when her letter was finished, she +saw, to her infinite surprise, there was reason to fear that her mother +had been too ingenious for her. On opening the door, she perceived her +sister and Bingley standing together over the hearth, as if engaged in +earnest conversation; and had this led to no suspicion, the faces of +both, as they hastily turned round and moved away from each other, would +have told it all. Their situation was awkward enough; but _her's_ she +thought was still worse. Not a syllable was uttered by either; and +Elizabeth was on the point of going away again, when Bingley, who as +well as the other had sat down, suddenly rose, and whispering a few +words to her sister, ran out of the room. + +Jane could have no reserves from Elizabeth, where confidence would give +pleasure; and instantly embracing her, acknowledged, with the liveliest +emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world. + +"'Tis too much!" she added, "by far too much. I do not deserve it. Oh! +why is not everybody as happy?" + +Elizabeth's congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, +a delight, which words could but poorly express. Every sentence of +kindness was a fresh source of happiness to Jane. But she would not +allow herself to stay with her sister, or say half that remained to be +said for the present. + +"I must go instantly to my mother;" she cried. "I would not on any +account trifle with her affectionate solicitude; or allow her to hear it +from anyone but myself. He is gone to my father already. Oh! Lizzy, to +know that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear +family! how shall I bear so much happiness!" + +She then hastened away to her mother, who had purposely broken up the +card party, and was sitting up stairs with Kitty. + +Elizabeth, who was left by herself, now smiled at the rapidity and ease +with which an affair was finally settled, that had given them so many +previous months of suspense and vexation. + +"And this," said she, "is the end of all his friend's anxious +circumspection! of all his sister's falsehood and contrivance! the +happiest, wisest, most reasonable end!" + +In a few minutes she was joined by Bingley, whose conference with her +father had been short and to the purpose. + +"Where is your sister?" said he hastily, as he opened the door. + +"With my mother up stairs. She will be down in a moment, I dare say." + +He then shut the door, and, coming up to her, claimed the good wishes +and affection of a sister. Elizabeth honestly and heartily expressed +her delight in the prospect of their relationship. They shook hands with +great cordiality; and then, till her sister came down, she had to listen +to all he had to say of his own happiness, and of Jane's perfections; +and in spite of his being a lover, Elizabeth really believed all his +expectations of felicity to be rationally founded, because they had for +basis the excellent understanding, and super-excellent disposition of +Jane, and a general similarity of feeling and taste between her and +himself. + +It was an evening of no common delight to them all; the satisfaction of +Miss Bennet's mind gave a glow of such sweet animation to her face, as +made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty simpered and smiled, and hoped +her turn was coming soon. Mrs. Bennet could not give her consent or +speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings, +though she talked to Bingley of nothing else for half an hour; and when +Mr. Bennet joined them at supper, his voice and manner plainly showed +how really happy he was. + +Not a word, however, passed his lips in allusion to it, till their +visitor took his leave for the night; but as soon as he was gone, he +turned to his daughter, and said: + +"Jane, I congratulate you. You will be a very happy woman." + +Jane went to him instantly, kissed him, and thanked him for his +goodness. + +"You are a good girl;" he replied, "and I have great pleasure in +thinking you will be so happily settled. I have not a doubt of your +doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are +each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so +easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will +always exceed your income." + +"I hope not so. Imprudence or thoughtlessness in money matters would be +unpardonable in me." + +"Exceed their income! My dear Mr. Bennet," cried his wife, "what are you +talking of? Why, he has four or five thousand a year, and very likely +more." Then addressing her daughter, "Oh! my dear, dear Jane, I am so +happy! I am sure I shan't get a wink of sleep all night. I knew how it +would be. I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not +be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as ever I saw him, when +he first came into Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was +that you should come together. Oh! he is the handsomest young man that +ever was seen!" + +Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her +favourite child. At that moment, she cared for no other. Her younger +sisters soon began to make interest with her for objects of happiness +which she might in future be able to dispense. + +Mary petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield; and Kitty +begged very hard for a few balls there every winter. + +Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at Longbourn; +coming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till after +supper; unless when some barbarous neighbour, who could not be enough +detested, had given him an invitation to dinner which he thought himself +obliged to accept. + +Elizabeth had now but little time for conversation with her sister; for +while he was present, Jane had no attention to bestow on anyone else; +but she found herself considerably useful to both of them in those hours +of separation that must sometimes occur. In the absence of Jane, he +always attached himself to Elizabeth, for the pleasure of talking of +her; and when Bingley was gone, Jane constantly sought the same means of +relief. + +"He has made me so happy," said she, one evening, "by telling me that he +was totally ignorant of my being in town last spring! I had not believed +it possible." + +"I suspected as much," replied Elizabeth. "But how did he account for +it?" + +"It must have been his sister's doing. They were certainly no friends to +his acquaintance with me, which I cannot wonder at, since he might have +chosen so much more advantageously in many respects. But when they see, +as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will +learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again; though we +can never be what we once were to each other." + +"That is the most unforgiving speech," said Elizabeth, "that I ever +heard you utter. Good girl! It would vex me, indeed, to see you again +the dupe of Miss Bingley's pretended regard." + +"Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, +he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of _my_ being +indifferent would have prevented his coming down again!" + +"He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his +modesty." + +This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and +the little value he put on his own good qualities. Elizabeth was pleased +to find that he had not betrayed the interference of his friend; for, +though Jane had the most generous and forgiving heart in the world, she +knew it was a circumstance which must prejudice her against him. + +"I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!" cried +Jane. "Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed +above them all! If I could but see _you_ as happy! If there _were_ but +such another man for you!" + +"If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as +you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your +happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very +good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time." + +The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be long a +secret. Mrs. Bennet was privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Phillips, +and she ventured, without any permission, to do the same by all her +neighbours in Meryton. + +The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the +world, though only a few weeks before, when Lydia had first run away, +they had been generally proved to be marked out for misfortune. + + + +Chapter 56 + + +One morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been +formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the +dining-room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window, by the +sound of a carriage; and they perceived a chaise and four driving up +the lawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the +equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. The horses +were post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant who +preceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that +somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid +the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the +shrubbery. They both set off, and the conjectures of the remaining three +continued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown +open and their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh. + +They were of course all intending to be surprised; but their +astonishment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs. +Bennet and Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even +inferior to what Elizabeth felt. + +She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no +other reply to Elizabeth's salutation than a slight inclination of the +head, and sat down without saying a word. Elizabeth had mentioned her +name to her mother on her ladyship's entrance, though no request of +introduction had been made. + +Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such +high importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting +for a moment in silence, she said very stiffly to Elizabeth, + +"I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your +mother." + +Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was. + +"And _that_ I suppose is one of your sisters." + +"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to a Lady Catherine. +"She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married, +and my eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man +who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family." + +"You have a very small park here," returned Lady Catherine after a short +silence. + +"It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say; but I +assure you it is much larger than Sir William Lucas's." + +"This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in +summer; the windows are full west." + +Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner, and then +added: + +"May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. and +Mrs. Collins well." + +"Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last." + +Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from +Charlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no +letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled. + +Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some +refreshment; but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely, +declined eating anything; and then, rising up, said to Elizabeth, + +"Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness +on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you +will favour me with your company." + +"Go, my dear," cried her mother, "and show her ladyship about the +different walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage." + +Elizabeth obeyed, and running into her own room for her parasol, +attended her noble guest downstairs. As they passed through the +hall, Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and +drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent +looking rooms, walked on. + +Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her +waiting-woman was in it. They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk +that led to the copse; Elizabeth was determined to make no effort for +conversation with a woman who was now more than usually insolent and +disagreeable. + +"How could I ever think her like her nephew?" said she, as she looked in +her face. + +As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following +manner:-- + +"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my +journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I +come." + +Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment. + +"Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account +for the honour of seeing you here." + +"Miss Bennet," replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, "you ought to +know, that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere _you_ may +choose to be, you shall not find _me_ so. My character has ever been +celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such +moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most +alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only your +sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that +you, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon +afterwards united to my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I +_know_ it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him +so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved +on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to +you." + +"If you believed it impossible to be true," said Elizabeth, colouring +with astonishment and disdain, "I wonder you took the trouble of coming +so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?" + +"At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted." + +"Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family," said Elizabeth +coolly, "will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report +is in existence." + +"If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been +industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a +report is spread abroad?" + +"I never heard that it was." + +"And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?" + +"I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may +ask questions which I shall not choose to answer." + +"This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has +he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?" + +"Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible." + +"It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his +reason. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, +have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You +may have drawn him in." + +"If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it." + +"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such +language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world, +and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns." + +"But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this, +ever induce me to be explicit." + +"Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the +presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is +engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?" + +"Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will +make an offer to me." + +Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied: + +"The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, +they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of +_his_ mother, as well as of her's. While in their cradles, we planned +the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would +be accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of +inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to +the family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends? To his +tacit engagement with Miss de Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of +propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest +hours he was destined for his cousin?" + +"Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is +no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not +be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to +marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the +marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither +by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make +another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?" + +"Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, +Miss Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or +friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will +be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. +Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned +by any of us." + +"These are heavy misfortunes," replied Elizabeth. "But the wife of Mr. +Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily +attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause +to repine." + +"Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude +for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that +score? Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came +here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will +I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's +whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment." + +"_That_ will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable; +but it will have no effect on me." + +"I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and my +nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal +side, from the same noble line; and, on the father's, from respectable, +honourable, and ancient--though untitled--families. Their fortune on +both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of +every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? +The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, +or fortune. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you +were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in +which you have been brought up." + +"In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that +sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are +equal." + +"True. You _are_ a gentleman's daughter. But who was your mother? +Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their +condition." + +"Whatever my connections may be," said Elizabeth, "if your nephew does +not object to them, they can be nothing to _you_." + +"Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?" + +Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady +Catherine, have answered this question, she could not but say, after a +moment's deliberation: + +"I am not." + +Lady Catherine seemed pleased. + +"And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?" + +"I will make no promise of the kind." + +"Miss Bennet I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more +reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that +I will ever recede. I shall not go away till you have given me the +assurance I require." + +"And I certainly _never_ shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into +anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry +your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise make their +marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me, would +my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on his cousin? +Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have +supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the +application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if +you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. How far your +nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs, I cannot tell; +but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg, +therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject." + +"Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the +objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am +no stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister's infamous +elopement. I know it all; that the young man's marrying her was a +patched-up business, at the expence of your father and uncles. And is +such a girl to be my nephew's sister? Is her husband, is the son of his +late father's steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!--of what are +you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?" + +"You can now have nothing further to say," she resentfully answered. +"You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to +the house." + +And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine rose also, and they turned +back. Her ladyship was highly incensed. + +"You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew! +Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you +must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?" + +"Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments." + +"You are then resolved to have him?" + +"I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, +which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without +reference to _you_, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me." + +"It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the +claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in +the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world." + +"Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude," replied Elizabeth, "have any +possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either +would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the +resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former +_were_ excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's +concern--and the world in general would have too much sense to join in +the scorn." + +"And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well. +I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your +ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you +reasonable; but, depend upon it, I will carry my point." + +In this manner Lady Catherine talked on, till they were at the door of +the carriage, when, turning hastily round, she added, "I take no leave +of you, Miss Bennet. I send no compliments to your mother. You deserve +no such attention. I am most seriously displeased." + +Elizabeth made no answer; and without attempting to persuade her +ladyship to return into the house, walked quietly into it herself. She +heard the carriage drive away as she proceeded up stairs. Her mother +impatiently met her at the door of the dressing-room, to ask why Lady +Catherine would not come in again and rest herself. + +"She did not choose it," said her daughter, "she would go." + +"She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was prodigiously +civil! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were +well. She is on her road somewhere, I dare say, and so, passing through +Meryton, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had +nothing particular to say to you, Lizzy?" + +Elizabeth was forced to give into a little falsehood here; for to +acknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible. + + + +Chapter 57 + + +The discomposure of spirits which this extraordinary visit threw +Elizabeth into, could not be easily overcome; nor could she, for many +hours, learn to think of it less than incessantly. Lady Catherine, it +appeared, had actually taken the trouble of this journey from Rosings, +for the sole purpose of breaking off her supposed engagement with Mr. +Darcy. It was a rational scheme, to be sure! but from what the report +of their engagement could originate, Elizabeth was at a loss to imagine; +till she recollected that _his_ being the intimate friend of Bingley, +and _her_ being the sister of Jane, was enough, at a time when the +expectation of one wedding made everybody eager for another, to supply +the idea. She had not herself forgotten to feel that the marriage of her +sister must bring them more frequently together. And her neighbours +at Lucas Lodge, therefore (for through their communication with the +Collinses, the report, she concluded, had reached lady Catherine), had +only set that down as almost certain and immediate, which she had looked +forward to as possible at some future time. + +In revolving Lady Catherine's expressions, however, she could not help +feeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of her persisting +in this interference. From what she had said of her resolution to +prevent their marriage, it occurred to Elizabeth that she must meditate +an application to her nephew; and how _he_ might take a similar +representation of the evils attached to a connection with her, she dared +not pronounce. She knew not the exact degree of his affection for his +aunt, or his dependence on her judgment, but it was natural to suppose +that he thought much higher of her ladyship than _she_ could do; and it +was certain that, in enumerating the miseries of a marriage with _one_, +whose immediate connections were so unequal to his own, his aunt would +address him on his weakest side. With his notions of dignity, he would +probably feel that the arguments, which to Elizabeth had appeared weak +and ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning. + +If he had been wavering before as to what he should do, which had often +seemed likely, the advice and entreaty of so near a relation might +settle every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy as dignity +unblemished could make him. In that case he would return no more. Lady +Catherine might see him in her way through town; and his engagement to +Bingley of coming again to Netherfield must give way. + +"If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his +friend within a few days," she added, "I shall know how to understand +it. I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of his +constancy. If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might +have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him +at all." + + * * * * * + +The surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor had +been, was very great; but they obligingly satisfied it, with the same +kind of supposition which had appeased Mrs. Bennet's curiosity; and +Elizabeth was spared from much teasing on the subject. + +The next morning, as she was going downstairs, she was met by her +father, who came out of his library with a letter in his hand. + +"Lizzy," said he, "I was going to look for you; come into my room." + +She followed him thither; and her curiosity to know what he had to +tell her was heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner +connected with the letter he held. It suddenly struck her that it +might be from Lady Catherine; and she anticipated with dismay all the +consequent explanations. + +She followed her father to the fire place, and they both sat down. He +then said, + +"I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me +exceedingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its +contents. I did not know before, that I had two daughters on the brink +of matrimony. Let me congratulate you on a very important conquest." + +The colour now rushed into Elizabeth's cheeks in the instantaneous +conviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt; +and she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained +himself at all, or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to +herself; when her father continued: + +"You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters +as these; but I think I may defy even _your_ sagacity, to discover the +name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins." + +"From Mr. Collins! and what can _he_ have to say?" + +"Something very much to the purpose of course. He begins with +congratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of +which, it seems, he has been told by some of the good-natured, gossiping +Lucases. I shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he says +on that point. What relates to yourself, is as follows: 'Having thus +offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on +this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another; +of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter +Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after +her elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate may +be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in +this land.' + +"Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this?" 'This young +gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of +mortal can most desire,--splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive +patronage. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin +Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a precipitate +closure with this gentleman's proposals, which, of course, you will be +inclined to take immediate advantage of.' + +"Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out: + +"'My motive for cautioning you is as follows. We have reason to imagine +that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with +a friendly eye.' + +"_Mr. Darcy_, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy, I think I _have_ +surprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man within +the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie +more effectually to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any +woman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in his +life! It is admirable!" + +Elizabeth tried to join in her father's pleasantry, but could only force +one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so +little agreeable to her. + +"Are you not diverted?" + +"Oh! yes. Pray read on." + +"'After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last +night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she +felt on the occasion; when it became apparent, that on the score of some +family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her +consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty +to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and +her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run +hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.' Mr. +Collins moreover adds, 'I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad +business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their +living together before the marriage took place should be so generally +known. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain +from declaring my amazement at hearing that you received the young +couple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an +encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should +very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them, +as a Christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their +names to be mentioned in your hearing.' That is his notion of Christian +forgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear Charlotte's +situation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you +look as if you did not enjoy it. You are not going to be _missish_, +I hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. For what do we +live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our +turn?" + +"Oh!" cried Elizabeth, "I am excessively diverted. But it is so +strange!" + +"Yes--_that_ is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man +it would have been nothing; but _his_ perfect indifference, and _your_ +pointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I abominate +writing, I would not give up Mr. Collins's correspondence for any +consideration. Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving +him the preference even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and +hypocrisy of my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine +about this report? Did she call to refuse her consent?" + +To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh; and as it had +been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by +his repeating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her +feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she +would rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by +what he said of Mr. Darcy's indifference, and she could do nothing but +wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of +his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much. + + + +Chapter 58 + + +Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as +Elizabeth half expected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy +with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine's +visit. The gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs. Bennet had time +to tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sat +in momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed +their all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs. Bennet was not in the +habit of walking; Mary could never spare time; but the remaining five +set off together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the others +to outstrip them. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy +were to entertain each other. Very little was said by either; Kitty +was too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a +desperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same. + +They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty wished to call upon +Maria; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern, +when Kitty left them she went boldly on with him alone. Now was the +moment for her resolution to be executed, and, while her courage was +high, she immediately said: + +"Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving +relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding your's. I +can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my +poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to +acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest +of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express." + +"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry," replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise +and emotion, "that you have ever been informed of what may, in a +mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner +was so little to be trusted." + +"You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to +me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could +not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, +in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced +you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the +sake of discovering them." + +"If you _will_ thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. +That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other +inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your +_family_ owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought +only of _you_." + +Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, +her companion added, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your +feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. _My_ +affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence +me on this subject for ever." + +Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of +his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not +very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone +so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make +her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The +happiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never +felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as +warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth +been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the +expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; +but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of +feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his +affection every moment more valuable. + +They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to +be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. She +soon learnt that they were indebted for their present good understanding +to the efforts of his aunt, who did call on him in her return through +London, and there relate her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the +substance of her conversation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically on +every expression of the latter which, in her ladyship's apprehension, +peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance; in the belief that +such a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise +from her nephew which she had refused to give. But, unluckily for her +ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise. + +"It taught me to hope," said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself +to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that, +had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have +acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly." + +Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, "Yes, you know enough +of my frankness to believe me capable of _that_. After abusing you so +abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all +your relations." + +"What did you say of me, that I did not deserve? For, though your +accusations were ill-founded, formed on mistaken premises, my +behaviour to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was +unpardonable. I cannot think of it without abhorrence." + +"We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that +evening," said Elizabeth. "The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, +will be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved +in civility." + +"I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I +then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of +it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your +reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: 'had you behaved in a +more gentlemanlike manner.' Those were your words. You know not, you can +scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me;--though it was some time, +I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice." + +"I was certainly very far from expecting them to make so strong an +impression. I had not the smallest idea of their being ever felt in such +a way." + +"I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper +feeling, I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never +forget, as you said that I could not have addressed you in any possible +way that would induce you to accept me." + +"Oh! do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at +all. I assure you that I have long been most heartily ashamed of it." + +Darcy mentioned his letter. "Did it," said he, "did it soon make you +think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its +contents?" + +She explained what its effect on her had been, and how gradually all her +former prejudices had been removed. + +"I knew," said he, "that what I wrote must give you pain, but it was +necessary. I hope you have destroyed the letter. There was one part +especially, the opening of it, which I should dread your having the +power of reading again. I can remember some expressions which might +justly make you hate me." + +"The letter shall certainly be burnt, if you believe it essential to the +preservation of my regard; but, though we have both reason to think my +opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, quite so easily +changed as that implies." + +"When I wrote that letter," replied Darcy, "I believed myself perfectly +calm and cool, but I am since convinced that it was written in a +dreadful bitterness of spirit." + +"The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. The +adieu is charity itself. But think no more of the letter. The feelings +of the person who wrote, and the person who received it, are now +so widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant +circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some +of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you +pleasure." + +"I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. Your +retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment +arising from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better, of +innocence. But with me, it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude +which cannot, which ought not, to be repelled. I have been a selfish +being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I +was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I +was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. +Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt +by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all +that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught +me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family +circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least +to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I +was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been +but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You +taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, +I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. +You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman +worthy of being pleased." + +"Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?" + +"Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be +wishing, expecting my addresses." + +"My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure +you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me +wrong. How you must have hated me after _that_ evening?" + +"Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take +a proper direction." + +"I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me, when we met at +Pemberley. You blamed me for coming?" + +"No indeed; I felt nothing but surprise." + +"Your surprise could not be greater than _mine_ in being noticed by you. +My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I +confess that I did not expect to receive _more_ than my due." + +"My object then," replied Darcy, "was to show you, by every civility in +my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped to +obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you +see that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes +introduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half an +hour after I had seen you." + +He then told her of Georgiana's delight in her acquaintance, and of her +disappointment at its sudden interruption; which naturally leading to +the cause of that interruption, she soon learnt that his resolution of +following her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister had been formed +before he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness +there had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must +comprehend. + +She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to +each, to be dwelt on farther. + +After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know +anything about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that +it was time to be at home. + +"What could become of Mr. Bingley and Jane!" was a wonder which +introduced the discussion of their affairs. Darcy was delighted with +their engagement; his friend had given him the earliest information of +it. + +"I must ask whether you were surprised?" said Elizabeth. + +"Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen." + +"That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much." And +though he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much +the case. + +"On the evening before my going to London," said he, "I made a +confession to him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I +told him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in his +affairs absurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had +the slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself +mistaken in supposing, as I had done, that your sister was indifferent +to him; and as I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was +unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together." + +Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his +friend. + +"Did you speak from your own observation," said she, "when you told him +that my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?" + +"From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits +which I had lately made here; and I was convinced of her affection." + +"And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to +him." + +"It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had +prevented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but +his reliance on mine made every thing easy. I was obliged to confess +one thing, which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not +allow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months +last winter, that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was +angry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained +in any doubt of your sister's sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me +now." + +Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightful +friend; so easily guided that his worth was invaluable; but she checked +herself. She remembered that he had yet to learn to be laughed at, +and it was rather too early to begin. In anticipating the happiness +of Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only to his own, he +continued the conversation till they reached the house. In the hall they +parted. + + + +Chapter 59 + + +"My dear Lizzy, where can you have been walking to?" was a question +which Elizabeth received from Jane as soon as she entered their room, +and from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to +say in reply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her own +knowledge. She coloured as she spoke; but neither that, nor anything +else, awakened a suspicion of the truth. + +The evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything extraordinary. The +acknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent. +Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth; +and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, rather _knew_ that she was happy +than _felt_ herself to be so; for, besides the immediate embarrassment, +there were other evils before her. She anticipated what would be felt +in the family when her situation became known; she was aware that no +one liked him but Jane; and even feared that with the others it was a +dislike which not all his fortune and consequence might do away. + +At night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far +from Miss Bennet's general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here. + +"You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!--engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, +you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible." + +"This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and +I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am +in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are +engaged." + +Jane looked at her doubtingly. "Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much +you dislike him." + +"You know nothing of the matter. _That_ is all to be forgot. Perhaps I +did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as +these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever +remember it myself." + +Miss Bennet still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more +seriously assured her of its truth. + +"Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you," cried +Jane. "My dear, dear Lizzy, I would--I do congratulate you--but are you +certain? forgive the question--are you quite certain that you can be +happy with him?" + +"There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that +we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, +Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?" + +"Very, very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more +delight. But we considered it, we talked of it as impossible. And do you +really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy! do anything rather than +marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought +to do?" + +"Oh, yes! You will only think I feel _more_ than I ought to do, when I +tell you all." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am +afraid you will be angry." + +"My dearest sister, now _be_ serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let +me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me +how long you have loved him?" + +"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. +But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds +at Pemberley." + +Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the +desired effect; and she soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances +of attachment. When convinced on that article, Miss Bennet had nothing +further to wish. + +"Now I am quite happy," said she, "for you will be as happy as myself. +I always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, +I must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley's friend and your +husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But +Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you +tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton! I owe all that I know +of it to another, not to you." + +Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling +to mention Bingley; and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made +her equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longer +conceal from her his share in Lydia's marriage. All was acknowledged, +and half the night spent in conversation. + + * * * * * + +"Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next +morning, "if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with +our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always +coming here? I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or +other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him? +Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley's +way." + +Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet +was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an +epithet. + +As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and +shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information; +and he soon afterwards said aloud, "Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes +hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?" + +"I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty," said Mrs. Bennet, "to walk +to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has +never seen the view." + +"It may do very well for the others," replied Mr. Bingley; "but I am +sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won't it, Kitty?" Kitty owned that +she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see +the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented. As she went +up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, saying: + +"I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that +disagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it: it is +all for Jane's sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking +to him, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to +inconvenience." + +During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet's consent should be +asked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the +application for her mother's. She could not determine how her mother +would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur +would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she +were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it +was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit +to her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear +the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her +disapprobation. + + * * * * * + +In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, she saw +Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was +extreme. She did not fear her father's opposition, but he was going to +be made unhappy; and that it should be through her means--that _she_, +his favourite child, should be distressing him by her choice, should be +filling him with fears and regrets in disposing of her--was a wretched +reflection, and she sat in misery till Mr. Darcy appeared again, when, +looking at him, she was a little relieved by his smile. In a few minutes +he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and, while +pretending to admire her work said in a whisper, "Go to your father, he +wants you in the library." She was gone directly. + +Her father was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. +"Lizzy," said he, "what are you doing? Are you out of your senses, to be +accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?" + +How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more +reasonable, her expressions more moderate! It would have spared her from +explanations and professions which it was exceedingly awkward to give; +but they were now necessary, and she assured him, with some confusion, +of her attachment to Mr. Darcy. + +"Or, in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be +sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. +But will they make you happy?" + +"Have you any other objection," said Elizabeth, "than your belief of my +indifference?" + +"None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but +this would be nothing if you really liked him." + +"I do, I do like him," she replied, with tears in her eyes, "I love him. +Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not +know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in +such terms." + +"Lizzy," said her father, "I have given him my consent. He is the kind +of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything, which he +condescended to ask. I now give it to _you_, if you are resolved on +having him. But let me advise you to think better of it. I know +your disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor +respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband; unless you looked +up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the +greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape +discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing +_you_ unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are +about." + +Elizabeth, still more affected, was earnest and solemn in her reply; and +at length, by repeated assurances that Mr. Darcy was really the object +of her choice, by explaining the gradual change which her estimation of +him had undergone, relating her absolute certainty that his affection +was not the work of a day, but had stood the test of many months' +suspense, and enumerating with energy all his good qualities, she did +conquer her father's incredulity, and reconcile him to the match. + +"Well, my dear," said he, when she ceased speaking, "I have no more to +say. If this be the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with +you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy." + +To complete the favourable impression, she then told him what Mr. Darcy +had voluntarily done for Lydia. He heard her with astonishment. + +"This is an evening of wonders, indeed! And so, Darcy did every thing; +made up the match, gave the money, paid the fellow's debts, and got him +his commission! So much the better. It will save me a world of trouble +and economy. Had it been your uncle's doing, I must and _would_ have +paid him; but these violent young lovers carry every thing their own +way. I shall offer to pay him to-morrow; he will rant and storm about +his love for you, and there will be an end of the matter." + +He then recollected her embarrassment a few days before, on his reading +Mr. Collins's letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed her +at last to go--saying, as she quitted the room, "If any young men come +for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure." + +Elizabeth's mind was now relieved from a very heavy weight; and, after +half an hour's quiet reflection in her own room, she was able to join +the others with tolerable composure. Every thing was too recent for +gaiety, but the evening passed tranquilly away; there was no longer +anything material to be dreaded, and the comfort of ease and familiarity +would come in time. + +When her mother went up to her dressing-room at night, she followed her, +and made the important communication. Its effect was most extraordinary; +for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable to +utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes that she could +comprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to credit +what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the shape of a +lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in +her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself. + +"Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would +have thought it! And is it really true? Oh! my sweetest Lizzy! how rich +and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages +you will have! Jane's is nothing to it--nothing at all. I am so +pleased--so happy. Such a charming man!--so handsome! so tall!--Oh, my +dear Lizzy! pray apologise for my having disliked him so much before. I +hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Every thing +that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, +Lord! What will become of me. I shall go distracted." + +This was enough to prove that her approbation need not be doubted: and +Elizabeth, rejoicing that such an effusion was heard only by herself, +soon went away. But before she had been three minutes in her own room, +her mother followed her. + +"My dearest child," she cried, "I can think of nothing else! Ten +thousand a year, and very likely more! 'Tis as good as a Lord! And a +special licence. You must and shall be married by a special licence. But +my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of, +that I may have it to-morrow." + +This was a sad omen of what her mother's behaviour to the gentleman +himself might be; and Elizabeth found that, though in the certain +possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations' +consent, there was still something to be wished for. But the morrow +passed off much better than she expected; for Mrs. Bennet luckily stood +in such awe of her intended son-in-law that she ventured not to speak to +him, unless it was in her power to offer him any attention, or mark her +deference for his opinion. + +Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get +acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising +every hour in his esteem. + +"I admire all my three sons-in-law highly," said he. "Wickham, perhaps, +is my favourite; but I think I shall like _your_ husband quite as well +as Jane's." + + + +Chapter 60 + + +Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. +Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. "How could +you begin?" said she. "I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when +you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first +place?" + +"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which +laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I +knew that I _had_ begun." + +"My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners--my behaviour +to _you_ was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke +to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere; +did you admire me for my impertinence?" + +"For the liveliness of your mind, I did." + +"You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. +The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious +attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking, +and looking, and thinking for _your_ approbation alone. I roused, and +interested you, because I was so unlike _them_. Had you not been really +amiable, you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you +took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and +in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously +courted you. There--I have saved you the trouble of accounting for +it; and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly +reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me--but nobody thinks +of _that_ when they fall in love." + +"Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane while she was +ill at Netherfield?" + +"Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it +by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are +to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me +to find occasions for teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may +be; and I shall begin directly by asking you what made you so unwilling +to come to the point at last. What made you so shy of me, when you first +called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, did +you look as if you did not care about me?" + +"Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement." + +"But I was embarrassed." + +"And so was I." + +"You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner." + +"A man who had felt less, might." + +"How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that +I should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you +_would_ have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder when +you _would_ have spoken, if I had not asked you! My resolution of +thanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect. +_Too much_, I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort +springs from a breach of promise? for I ought not to have mentioned the +subject. This will never do." + +"You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady +Catherine's unjustifiable endeavours to separate us were the means of +removing all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness to +your eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour +to wait for any opening of your's. My aunt's intelligence had given me +hope, and I was determined at once to know every thing." + +"Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy, +for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to +Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed? +or had you intended any more serious consequence?" + +"My real purpose was to see _you_, and to judge, if I could, whether I +might ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to +myself, was to see whether your sister were still partial to Bingley, +and if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made." + +"Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is to +befall her?" + +"I am more likely to want more time than courage, Elizabeth. But it +ought to be done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be +done directly." + +"And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you and +admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But +I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected." + +From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcy +had been over-rated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner's +long letter; but now, having _that_ to communicate which she knew would +be most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find that her uncle and +aunt had already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote as +follows: + +"I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have done, +for your long, kind, satisfactory, detail of particulars; but to say the +truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed. +But _now_ suppose as much as you choose; give a loose rein to your +fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the +subject will afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you +cannot greatly err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a +great deal more than you did in your last. I thank you, again and again, +for not going to the Lakes. How could I be so silly as to wish it! Your +idea of the ponies is delightful. We will go round the Park every day. I +am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so +before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she +only smiles, I laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world that +he can spare from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas. +Yours, etc." + +Mr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine was in a different style; and still +different from either was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, in reply +to his last. + +"DEAR SIR, + +"I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon +be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can. +But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give. + +"Yours sincerely, etc." + +Miss Bingley's congratulations to her brother, on his approaching +marriage, were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote even +to Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all her +former professions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she was +affected; and though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writing +her a much kinder answer than she knew was deserved. + +The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information, +was as sincere as her brother's in sending it. Four sides of paper were +insufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire of +being loved by her sister. + +Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins, or any congratulations +to Elizabeth from his wife, the Longbourn family heard that the +Collinses were come themselves to Lucas Lodge. The reason of this +sudden removal was soon evident. Lady Catherine had been rendered +so exceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew's letter, that +Charlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away till +the storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friend +was a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course of their +meetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when she +saw Mr. Darcy exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility of +her husband. He bore it, however, with admirable calmness. He could even +listen to Sir William Lucas, when he complimented him on carrying away +the brightest jewel of the country, and expressed his hopes of their all +meeting frequently at St. James's, with very decent composure. If he did +shrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William was out of sight. + +Mrs. Phillips's vulgarity was another, and perhaps a greater, tax on his +forbearance; and though Mrs. Phillips, as well as her sister, stood in +too much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley's good +humour encouraged, yet, whenever she _did_ speak, she must be vulgar. +Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at all +likely to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could to shield +him from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep +him to herself, and to those of her family with whom he might converse +without mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings arising +from all this took from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, it +added to the hope of the future; and she looked forward with delight to +the time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing +to either, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at +Pemberley. + + + +Chapter 61 + + +Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got +rid of her two most deserving daughters. With what delighted pride +she afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may +be guessed. I wish I could say, for the sake of her family, that the +accomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many +of her children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible, +amiable, well-informed woman for the rest of her life; though perhaps it +was lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicity +in so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous and +invariably silly. + +Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly; his affection for her +drew him oftener from home than anything else could do. He delighted in +going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected. + +Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So near +a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to +_his_ easy temper, or _her_ affectionate heart. The darling wish of his +sisters was then gratified; he bought an estate in a neighbouring county +to Derbyshire, and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source +of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other. + +Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with +her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally +known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a +temper as Lydia; and, removed from the influence of Lydia's example, +she became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less +ignorant, and less insipid. From the further disadvantage of Lydia's +society she was of course carefully kept, and though Mrs. Wickham +frequently invited her to come and stay with her, with the promise of +balls and young men, her father would never consent to her going. + +Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarily +drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet's being quite +unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but +she could still moralize over every morning visit; and as she was no +longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters' beauty and her own, +it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without +much reluctance. + +As for Wickham and Lydia, their characters suffered no revolution from +the marriage of her sisters. He bore with philosophy the conviction that +Elizabeth must now become acquainted with whatever of his ingratitude +and falsehood had before been unknown to her; and in spite of every +thing, was not wholly without hope that Darcy might yet be prevailed on +to make his fortune. The congratulatory letter which Elizabeth received +from Lydia on her marriage, explained to her that, by his wife at least, +if not by himself, such a hope was cherished. The letter was to this +effect: + +"MY DEAR LIZZY, + +"I wish you joy. If you love Mr. Darcy half as well as I do my dear +Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so +rich, and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you will think of us. +I am sure Wickham would like a place at court very much, and I do not +think we shall have quite money enough to live upon without some help. +Any place would do, of about three or four hundred a year; but however, +do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it, if you had rather not. + +"Yours, etc." + +As it happened that Elizabeth had _much_ rather not, she endeavoured in +her answer to put an end to every entreaty and expectation of the kind. +Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practice +of what might be called economy in her own private expences, she +frequently sent them. It had always been evident to her that such an +income as theirs, under the direction of two persons so extravagant in +their wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to +their support; and whenever they changed their quarters, either Jane or +herself were sure of being applied to for some little assistance +towards discharging their bills. Their manner of living, even when the +restoration of peace dismissed them to a home, was unsettled in the +extreme. They were always moving from place to place in quest of a cheap +situation, and always spending more than they ought. His affection for +her soon sunk into indifference; her's lasted a little longer; and +in spite of her youth and her manners, she retained all the claims to +reputation which her marriage had given her. + +Though Darcy could never receive _him_ at Pemberley, yet, for +Elizabeth's sake, he assisted him further in his profession. Lydia was +occasionally a visitor there, when her husband was gone to enjoy himself +in London or Bath; and with the Bingleys they both of them frequently +staid so long, that even Bingley's good humour was overcome, and he +proceeded so far as to talk of giving them a hint to be gone. + +Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by Darcy's marriage; but as she +thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she +dropt all her resentment; was fonder than ever of Georgiana, almost as +attentive to Darcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civility +to Elizabeth. + +Pemberley was now Georgiana's home; and the attachment of the sisters +was exactly what Darcy had hoped to see. They were able to love each +other even as well as they intended. Georgiana had the highest opinion +in the world of Elizabeth; though at first she often listened with +an astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive, manner of +talking to her brother. He, who had always inspired in herself a respect +which almost overcame her affection, she now saw the object of open +pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge which had never before fallen +in her way. By Elizabeth's instructions, she began to comprehend that +a woman may take liberties with her husband which a brother will not +always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself. + +Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew; +and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character in +her reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent him +language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time +all intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth's persuasion, +he was prevailed on to overlook the offence, and seek a reconciliation; +and, after a little further resistance on the part of his aunt, her +resentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity +to see how his wife conducted herself; and she condescended to wait +on them at Pemberley, in spite of that pollution which its woods had +received, not merely from the presence of such a mistress, but the +visits of her uncle and aunt from the city. + +With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. +Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever +sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing +her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRIDE AND PREJUDICE *** + +***** This file should be named 1342.txt or 1342.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/1342/ + +Produced by Anonymous Volunteers + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/birdman.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/birdman.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a0ac18a --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/birdman.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6222 @@ + BIRDMAN + + + + + + Written by + + Alejandro G. Inarritu + Nicolas Giacobone + Alexander Dinelaris, Jr. + Armando Bo + +1 BLACK 1 + + We hear a clock ticking. + + FADE IN: + +1 INT. RIGGAN'S DRESSING ROOM - THEATER - DAY 1 + Close on the brilliant colors of a middle eastern rug, the + center of what seems to be a makeshift "meditation" space. + + We slowly tilt up to discover the back of Riggan Thomson (55). + He is in the proper `Lotus' position, dressed only in tight + white briefs and he appears to be meditating deeply. And if all + this seems a little odd, it becomes all the more so when you + notice that he is levitating almost two feet above the floor. + His breath is calm and measured... in and out... in and out. + + MAN (V.O.) + How did we end up here? + (Beat.) + This place is a fucking dump. + + We begin to slowly move toward Riggan's back while his measure + breathing continues. We see a clock on the wall, ticking. + + MAN (V.O.) + Smells like balls. + + A slight twitch in Riggan's neck. + + MAN (V.O.) + We don't belong in this shithole. + + A Skype call shatters the silence. Close on his back, we follow + Riggan as he walks over to the computer and answers the call. + On the computer screen appears Sam (21), in a pair of Levi's + and a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. She has simple and striking good + looks, with an edge in her voice and behind her eyes. She + stands in a Korean Deli among the flowers, talking to Riggan + through her iPhone. + +1A 1A + + The Korean Store owner (50) stands in the background screaming + at her the whole time. + + RIGGAN + Sam, I can't-- + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 2. + + SAM + Dad? What kind of-- + (Turning to Korean.) + SHUT UP!!! + (Back to screen.) + What kind of flowers did you say you + wanted? + + RIGGAN + Alchemillas. Or something soothing that + smells nice. Listen I can't-- + SAM + It all smells like fucking Kimchi! + + RIGGAN + Then whatever looks nice. Anything but + roses. No roses. + + KOREAN + Flowers don't need you touch! They need you + buy!!! + + SAM + (Close into the screen.) + I hate this job. + + And the Skype call is over. Riggan closes the laptop and leans + forward trying to regain his calm. His reflection appears in + the mirror, and for the first time we see his face. He has a + dark goatee and his hair looks strangely abundant. There is a + piece of paper on the mirror with the handwritten phrase "A + thing is a thing, not what it is said of that thing." + + ANNIE ON SPEAKERS + Riggan, they're starting scene + five. We need you on stage. + + RIGGAN + Shit... + Riggan throws on a sweater and stumbles into his slacks. He + hurries out... + +2 INT. HALLWAYS - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 2 + + ...through the narrow corridors of the theater. There is a lot + of activity as various workers and stage hands appear and + disappear carrying equipment and scenery. As Riggan descends the + stairs, a Stage Hand· passes by in the opposite direction. + + STAGE HAND· + Mr. Thomson. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 3. + + RIGGAN + Steve. + + STAGE HAND· + It's Daniel. + + RIGGAN + (Already passed.) + Okay. + + Riggan continues on until he arrives backstage. He runs into + Jake (42) his producer and friend. + + JAKE + How's it going, buddy. + + RIGGAN + Great. It'd be even better if I + could get Ralph to stop acting like + he's in an educational video for + syphilis... + The camera moves off of them and onto... + +3 INT. STAGE - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 3 + ...the stage. Suddenly we are in the midst of an Americana style + kitchen. + + Around the kitchen table sit Lesley (35), plain and no nonsense, + her simple hairstyle and makeup can't hide how attractive she + is. Laura (35), dark, exotic, the kind of woman who makes every + person she meets feel like she's seducing them. And Ralph (40), + slightly handsome, slightly balding, slightly invisible. + + A half empty bottle of gin on the table, they drink from + highball glasses as they chat... + + LESLEY + He loved me. + + RALPH + Yeah. He loved her so much he tried + to kill her. + + LAURA + He tried to kill you? + + LESLEY + No. (A beat.) Okay, well, he did + beat me up one night. He dragged me + around the living room by my + ankles, yelling "I love you, I love + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 4. + LESLEY (CONT'D) + you, bitch." What do you do with a + love like that? + + RALPH + How is that-- That is not love and you know + it. Why do you insist on calling it-- + + LESLEY + You can say what you want, but I know what + it was. + RALPH + What about you, Nick? Does that sound like + love to you? + +Riggan arrives at the table and sits. + + RIGGAN + Sorry I'm late. + (Beat. In character.) + I'm the wrong person to ask. I didn't + know the man. I've only heard his name + mentioned in passing. You'd have to + know the particulars. But I think what + you're saying is that love is absolute. + + RALPH + Yeah. The kind of love I'm talking about + is... The kind of love I'm talking about, + you don't try and kill people. + + LESLEY + (Sadly.) + It was love, Mel. To Eddie, it was. I don't + care what anybody says. He was ready to die + for it. + + RALPH + Ask her what he did after she left him. + + LESLEY + He shot himself in the mouth. But he + screwed that up, too. Poor Ed. + + RALPH + Poor Ed, my ass. The guy was dangerous. + + LAURA + How'd he screw it up if he shot himself in + the mouth? + + RALPH + (By the numbers.) + He used to carry this twenty-two. We lived + like fugitives those days. I never knew-- + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 5. + + RIGGAN + (Breaking character to direct. + Exasperated.) + Okay. Fugitives are on the run, Ralph. How + many times do I have to-- Fugitives are + scared. Give me more of that. + +Ralph nods. He takes a breath and dives in once again... + + RALPH + (The same but louder.) + We lived like fugitives those days... + +Extremely frustrated, Riggan stares out into the auditorium. +From his POV we see Jake who is now sitting in the third row. +His head buried in his hands, tortured by Ralph's performance. +Riggan turns back to Ralph. + + RALPH (CONT'D) + ...I never knew if he was going to come out + of the bushes or from behind a car and just + start shooting. + +Riggan watches Ralph act and sees his whole production headed +down the drain. Ralph is just that bad. + + RALPH (CONT'D) + The man was crazy. He was capable of + anything. + +The actors all wait for a cue from Riggan, who is now staring +up into the lights above the stage. Laura finally picks up +Riggan's cue. + + LAURA + Christ. What a nightmare... + + RALPH + He used to call me at the hospital and + say... + (Over the top.) + "Son of a bitch. Your days are numbered." + +Silence. Ralph looks over to Riggan. + + RALPH (CONT'D) + Too much? Little bit? I just wanted to give + you a range, so you could-- + +And with that a light comes barreling down from it's perch and +crashes into Ralph's head, making him hit the floor like a rag +doll. Silence. + + LAURA + Holy shit. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 6. + + Lesley and Annie (35), the Stage Manager, run over to Ralph + who is out cold. Not knowing what to do, they stare at him. + + LESLEY + Is he breathing? + + Jake runs toward the stage. + + JAKE + Someone call 911! + Riggan slowly backs away from the chaos. + + LAURA + Is that blood coming out of his + ear? + + JAKE + (To Riggan.) + Where are you going? + LESLEY + Okay, he's breathing. What did he + have for lunch? + + LAURA + Did anyone call for help? + + ANNIE + (Clapping.) + Wake up! Wake up! + + Two crew members try to help Ralph. + + CREW MEMBER + Grab his legs. I got the top. + + JAKE + Don't move him! Wait for the ambulance. + (Calling out.) + For the love of God! I could get a black + audience in this theater faster than a + doctor! + + Riggan heads off the stage, and Jake chases after him. We + follow them as... + +4 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 4 + + ...they walk through the corridor. + + JAKE + Where are you going? We'll have the + understudy ready to rehearse in five-- + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 7. + + RIGGAN + Forget the understudy. We have to postpone + the preview. + + JAKE + What are you-- It's a full house. We would + have to refund all the-- + + RIGGAN + Then do it. +A crew member· passes in the opposite direction. + + CREW MEMBER· + How's Ralph? + + RIGGAN + He'll be fine. + + JAKE + Wait. Wait. Fuck. Wait. + RIGGAN + Listen to me. It was going to be a + disaster. That guy's the worst actor I've + ever seen. The blood coming out of his ear + was the most honest thing he's done so far. + + JAKE + He's not that bad. + +Riggan stops in his tracks and stares at Jake. + + JAKE (CONT'D) + Okay, he's fucking horrible. But-- + +Riggan starts walking again. + + JAKE (CONT'D) + You have the press in your dressing + room in a few hours. How are we-- + RIGGAN + I'll make something up. + +Two Technicians· hurry up in the opposite direction. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Jake. This happened for a reason. It wasn't + an accident. + + JAKE + What do you mean? + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 8. + + RIGGAN + I-- (A beat.) I made it happen. + + JAKE + Oh. Okay. + (Beat.) + Are you drunk? + + RIGGAN + Find me an actor. A good actor. + Philip Seymour Hoffman... + JAKE + He's doing the third Hunger Games. + + RIGGAN + Michael Fassbender? + + JAKE + Doing the prequel to the X-Men + prequel. + They arrive at Riggan's dressing room. + + RIGGAN + What's his name? Jeremy Renner... + + JAKE + Who? + + RIGGAN + The... the Hurt Locker guy. + + JAKE + Yeah. He's an Avenger. + + RIGGAN + (With disgust.) + Fuck. They put him in a cape, too? + (A beat.) Look, I don't care. Find + me someone. + Riggan enters... + +5 INT. RIGGAN'S DRESSING ROOM - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 5 + + ...his dressing room and tries to shut the door. Jake, still in + the corridor, stops it with his foot. + + JAKE + (Sticking his head in.) + Ralph'll sue us. He'll sue us. And he's got + a case. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 9. + +Riggan releases the door. + + RIGGAN + Then make him go away. + + JAKE + How do you suggest I do that? + + RIGGAN + You're my lawyer, my producer and + my oldest friend. We are going to + make this work. Now just get out + there and do what you were born to + do. + + JAKE + What's that? + + RIGGAN + I have no idea. But I have faith. + Now go away from me. + JAKE + Do you think we should-- + +Riggan slams the door shut on Jake. A beat. On a television, a +segment of E! News. A busty blond, with an exaggerated smile, +hosts. + + BLOND WOMAN + ...and when we come back, an exclusive + interview with Robert Downey Jr., who tells + us about the billion-dollar Iron Man + franchise. The talented actor invited us + onto the set of Iron Man 3... + +Riggan slams the tv off, his mind racing. He sits on a chair. + + MAN (V.O.) + That clown doesn't have half your talent + and he's making a fortune in that Tin Man + get up. + +Riggan stares into the mirror, in the reflection he catches +sight of a poster from a movie called "Birdman 3". The +superhero, Birdman (a younger Riggan in a bird costume), wings +widely spread, stares directly back at him. A hand written +note on the top of the poster reads: "Thomson, break a wing! +From the boys at Local 1." Riggan tries to calm himself with a +mantra... + + RIGGAN + "Breathing in, I embrace my anger. + Breathing out, I smile to it." + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 10. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + Embrace it. Kiss it. Turn it around and + fuck it in the-- + +A knock on the door behind him. + + RIGGAN + Not now! + +Laura opens the door and sticks her head in. + LAURA + Can I come in? + + RIGGAN + No. + + LAURA + Okay. Two words. Shia La Beouf. + + RIGGAN + That's three words. + + LAURA + It's two. + + RIGGAN + Get out. + + LAURA + I love you. + +She closes the door. Riggan tries to calm himself down, but +Laura opens the door again. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + I take it we're not going to dinner + anymore? + + RIGGAN + I don't have an actor. + LAURA + I don't have a life. + + RIGGAN + Laura... + + LAURA + Fine. Whatever. + (Goes to leave but stops.) + You remember at Joan's when you + asked me to come do a Broadway play + with you? You said it would be + fun... + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 11. + + RIGGAN + Go away. + + LAURA + So far? No fun. + + Riggan closes the door and looks at the Birdman poster. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + Fun? You know what would be fun? Getting + the fuck out of here before we humiliate + ourselves. That would be fun. + + Riggan looks at himself in the mirror and begins to pull at + his hair. As it comes off his head, we discover it was a wig. + He turns away from the mirror, trying desperately to stay + calm. Something catches his eye: a vase of roses on the end + of the table. A card in them says, "They didn't have the + whatever you wanted - Sam". Enraged, Riggan focuses on the + vase. It begins to shift. Then, with a surge of anger, + without ever touching it, he sends it crashing against the + wall on the other side of the room. + + The camera pans over the roses scattered across the floor. It + hovers over the carpet and around the perimeter of the room, + until it finally settles on Riggan, now dressed in a casual + blazer. + +A5 A5 + + It is later the same day. He is sitting on the sofa and on three + chairs in front of him are three journalists: + + Gabriel, a geeky theatre journalist, wearing thick glasses and + a thin tie. Clara, a reporter from an entertainment blog. And + Han, a polite, obese Japanese journalist, who sits next to his + translator, another Japanese guy. + + GABRIEL + Why does somebody go from playing the lead + in a comic book franchise to adapting + Raymond Carver for the stage? + + Riggan tries to remain calm. + + GABRIEL (CONT'D) + I mean, as you're probably aware, Barthes + said, "The cultural work done in the past + by gods and epic sagas is now done by + laundry detergent commercials and comic + strip characters." It's a big leap you've + taken... + + Riggan shifts nervously. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 12. + + RIGGAN + Well... Absolutely. As you said... that + Barthes said... Birdman, like Icarus... + + CLARA + Hang on. Who's this Barthes guy? Which + Birdman was he in? + + GABRIEL + Roland Barthes was a French philosopher, + who-- + CLARA + Oh. Okay. Sure. Now, is it true you've been + injecting yourself with semen from baby + pigs? + + RIGGAN + What? + + CLARA + As a method of facial rejuvenation. + + RIGGAN + Who told you that? + + CLARA + It was tweeted by... (checks her notes) + @prostatewhispers. + + RIGGAN + It's a lie. + + CLARA + I know. But did you do it? + + RIGGAN + No! + + GABRIEL + Are you afraid at all that people will say + you're doing this play to battle the + impression that you're a washed-up super + hero? + + RIGGAN + No. I'm not. And that's exactly why + 20 years ago I refused to do + Birdman 4. + + HAN + Birdman 4??? You do Birdman 4??? + +Jake opens the door and the camera pans to him. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 13. + + JAKE + Okay. That's enough for today. + Thank you for coming. We're + expecting some great pieces from + you... + +Riggan stares at the Birdman poster. + + JAKE (CONT'D) + Publicity guys are trying to get + you a Times feature. +Riggan stands up and pulls the Birdman poster off of the +wall. + + JAKE (CONT'D) + So, How'd it-- Whoa. If I were you + I wouldn't do that. + + RIGGAN + I don't want to look at it anymore. + JAKE + That was a present from the crew. + Don't fuck with those guys, they're + union. + + RIGGAN + I don't care. + +Riggan leaves the poster on the floor, facing the wall, and +walks to the window. He opens it. We can hear distant drums +coming from the street. + + JAKE + So... How'd it go? + + RIGGAN + Great. + + JAKE + (Worried.) + Did they ask about Ralph? + + RIGGAN + Nope. + + JAKE + Good. He did it, you know? The + motherfucker threatened to sue us. + Didn't even wait to get out of the + hospital. + + RIGGAN + And, what did you say? + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 14. + + JAKE + What'd I say? I said, "You + motherfucker. You're threatening + me? ME? I swear to god, you fuck, I + so much as get a letter from a + lawyer, the press'll get the + pictures we got off your computer." + + RIGGAN + What pictures? + JAKE + The guy has a thing for nuns... in + diapers. What do you care? You + shouldn't have any knowledge about + it anyway. The important thing is + that I made him go away. + + RIGGAN + Right. That's great. + JAKE + Yeah, it's fantastic. One problem. + We don't have an actor. And if we + cancel the first preview the press + will smell the blood. We can't + afford to lose any more money. At + all. + + RIGGAN + What do you want me to do? + + JAKE + We pay an understudy, let's use the + understudy. + + RIGGAN + No. + + JAKE + No? Riggan, listen to me. Our dream actor + is not going to knock on that door and + say: "Hey fellas, when do we start?" + +B5 B5 + + There is a knock at the door. Leslie peeks in. + + LESLIE + Can I talk to you for a second? + + RIGGAN + Yeah. What's up? + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 15. + + LESLIE +Did you find another actor? + + RIGGAN +No. + + LESLIE +Okay. Well... Mike's available. + + RIGGAN +He is? + JAKE +Mike who? + + RIGGAN +I thought he was doing-- + + LESLIE +He was. He quit. Or got fired. + JAKE +Mike who? + + RIGGAN +Which one? Quit or fired? + + LESLIE +With Mike it's usually both. + + JAKE +Mike Fucking Who? + + LESLIE +Shiner. + + JAKE +Yes! + + RIGGAN +Jake... + JAKE +Yes! How do you know Mike Shiner? + + LESLIE +We share a vagina. + + RIGGAN +You think he'd want to do it? + + LESLIE +Yeah. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 16. + + JAKE + How do you know? + + LESLIE + Because he said he'd want to do it. + + JAKE + Yes! + + RIGGAN + Jake. Hang on a minute. + JAKE + (to Riggan) + Ask me if he sells tickets. + + RIGGAN + Does he sell tickets? + + JAKE + A shitload of tickets. Now ask me if the + critics like him? + + RIGGAN + Do they like him? + + JAKE + They want to spooge on him. + + RIGGAN + (Indicating Lesley.) + Hey. + + JAKE + Leslie... + + LESLIE + Right on his face. + + JAKE + Everything for a reason, right? + RIGGAN + You think he'll be able to come tonight? + + LESLEY + I can call him and find out. + +Riggan gives Jake a look. + + JAKE + I'll call his agent. + +Jake charges out of the room. The camera follows him into... + 10/29/14 / 17. + +6 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 6 + + ...the hallway and as Jake makes a left turn, Annie enters from + the right. + + JAKE + Annie, turn the work lights on and get me a + fresh copy of the script. We're gonna have + a "put in" tonight. + + ANNIE + Who? + JAKE + You'll find out... + + Jake disappears down the hall and we follow Annie through the + theater and onto... + +7 INT. STAGE - THEATER - EVENING 7 + ...the stage, where she turns some of the stage work lights on. + We pan along the stage until we find Riggan, wearing the same + clothes as before, scanning the empty auditorium. + + MIKE (O.S.) + Intimidating. Isn't it? + + Riggan sees Mike Shiner (39) coming down the aisle, slovenly + dressed with mussed hair and intense eyes. + + MIKE (CONT'D) + Do you have any idea who walked these + boards before you? + (Beat.) + Geraldine Page, Marlon Brando, + Helen Hayes, Jason Robards... And + now you. Riggan Thomson. + + Riggan, trying to hide the intimidation. + + RIGGAN + Thanks for coming on such short notice, + Mike. I appreciate it. + + MIKE + Hey. This is what we do. + (Indicates a script.) + So, you wrote this adaptation? + + RIGGAN + I did. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 18. + + MIKE + And you're directing the adaptation and + starring... + + RIGGAN + I am. + + MIKE + Ambitious. + + RIGGAN + Thank you. + +A sly smile from Mike. He leaps onto the stage. + + MIKE + Why don't we do a bit of it? + + RIGGAN + Hey, I wasn't expecting you to-- + MIKE + First preview is tomorrow, right? + + RIGGAN + Yeah, but you can go on with the script + until you feel comfortable-- + + MIKE + Let's just do some of it. + +Riggan tries to hide his excitement. He grabs the script from a +nearby table and walks it over to Mike. + + RIGGAN + Take a look at page twenty-- + + MIKE + Yeah. I don't need that. + + RIGGAN + What? + + MIKE + I don't need the script. Just give me a + cue. + + RIGGAN + What are you talking about? + + MIKE + Feed me a line. + + RIGGAN + I don't-- What? + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 19. + + MIKE + Feed. Me. A line. + +Riggan drops the script and begins the scene. + + RIGGAN + "I'm the wrong person to ask. I didn't + know the man. I've only heard his name + mentioned in passing. I wouldn't know. + You'd have to know the particulars. But + I think what you're saying is that love + is absolute." + +Mike stares at Riggan, hyper-focused. + + MIKE + (Ruminating.) + Am I saying that love is absolute? + (He transforms.) + "Yeah. The kind of love I'm talking about + is. The kind of love I'm talking about you-- + " + (An intense pause.) + Well, you don't try to kill people. + +Riggan is transfixed, and almost immediately intimidated. + + RIGGAN + How do you know the lines? + + MIKE + I have a thing, a whatever, a gift. + (A beat.) Come on, I helped Lesley get + off book. Hey, give me that cue again. + + RIGGAN + "I'm the wrong person to ask. I didn't + know the man. I've only heard his name + mentioned in passing. I wouldn't know. + You'd have to know the particulars. But + I think what you're saying is--" + MIKE + Okay, can I-- Do you mind if I-- + + RIGGAN + No, go ahead. + + MIKE + Follow me. He says, "I'm the wrong + person to ask." What's his intention? + Is he fed up with the topic? + Deflecting? Guilt about his wife maybe? + Then four sentences all say the same + thing... "I didn't even know the man." + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 20. + MIKE (CONT'D) +"I've only heard his name mentioned in +passing." "I wouldn't know." "You'd +have to know the particulars." First of +all, particulars? What are you, my +grandmother? But the point is, YOU +DON'T KNOW THE GUY, WE FUCKING GET IT. +Make it one line. "I didn't even know +the guy." Right? ... + + RIGGAN +You pretty much know my lines too, huh? + MIKE +Can we-- Are we doing something here? Come +on let's go. Cut it down, give it to me +again. + + RIGGAN +"I'm the wrong person to ask--" + + MIKE +Oh, right, sorry, you see? "I'm the wrong +person to ask?" That's another fuck you. +"Don't put me on the spot. Don't make me +self conscious about my marriage when my +wife is sitting right here..." See? Give +it to me. Give me a good fuck you. Come +on... + + RIGGAN +Okay, let me-- + + MIKE +Come on. Give it to me right now. Fuck me. +Right now. Right here. Let's do it. + + RIGGAN +Okay, yeah... + + MIKE +DO IT! + RIGGAN + (Jumps in w/out thinking.) +"Hey. I'm the wrong person to ask, okay? I +didn't even know the guy. So what's your +point?" + + MIKE +"What's my point?" + + RIGGAN +"What's your point? What are you saying? +Spit it out. You're saying, what? That love +is an absolute?" + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 21. + + MIKE + (Exploding.) + "Yeah! Alright? The kind of love I'm + talking about is absolute. The kind of love + I'm talking about you-- + (A painful memory.) + Well, you don't try to kill people. + +Riggan stands silently, his heart pounding. + + MIKE (CONT'D) + So what do you think, boss? Do I have a + job? + +Riggan calls over to the wings. + + RIGGAN + What do you think? + +Mike turns to see Sam, who has been there for a bit. + SAM + Larry needs to see him for a fitting. + + MIKE + I'm gonna take that as a yes. + (Walking to Sam.) + And you are...? + + RIGGAN + That's my daughter, Sam. + + MIKE + Right. Yeah. I can see it around the... (A + beat) She doesn't look anything like you. + (To Sam.) + And your job is...? + + RIGGAN + She's my assistant. + MIKE + Your assistant... + (To Sam.) + And can you speak? + + SAM + Yup. I can even 'sit', 'stay' or 'roll + over' if you have any treats. + + RIGGAN + Welcome aboard, Mike. + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 22. + + MIKE + (Mock saluting.) + Thank you, Captain. + + We follow Mike and Sam off as they... + +8 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 8 + + ...advance through the hallways. + + MIKE + I'm Mike Shiner, by the way. + + SAM + I know who you are. + (Reluctantly honest.) + I saw you in 'Hothouse' at the Geffen. It + was... great. + + MIKE + That ass is great. + + She turns her head toward him with a disgusted expression. + + SAM + Dude. Seriously? + + Moving by her, into a dressing room. + + MIKE + This is the theatre, honey. Don't be so + self-conscious. + + She follows him into the room where we see... + +9 INT. COSTUME DEPARTMENT - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 9 + + ...Larry stressing out while he works on a costume. He turns + to see Mike standing there. Sam stands against the wall, + focused on her cell phone. + + LARRY + Oh, thank the Lord and pass the + biscuits! I finally have an actor to + dress. Hello, Mr. Shiner. + + MIKE + How're you doing, Larry? + + LARRY + Better, now that you're here. Take off your + clothes. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 23. + +Mike takes off his shirt and hands it to Sam. She doesn't budge, +and it hits the floor. He begins to unbutton his pants... + + MIKE + You gonna stand there? + + SAM + (Glancing at her cell.) + This is the theatre, honey. Don't be so + self-conscious. +Larry searches for a few costume pieces. + + LARRY + Okay. I'm gonna have to start from + scratch, with less than twenty-four + hours... Let's see if these-- + +He turns to see a completely naked Mike. + + LARRY (CONT'D) + Holy-- What is happening? Where are + your underpants? + + MIKE + At home, under the bed, I think. + +Sam glances at Mike for a second, then returns to her phone. +Larry begins to help Mike into some pants which, given the +situation, is very awkward. + + LARRY + Okay. Everything is too small. + + SAM + Yeah, you're not kidding. + +Lesley enters the room immediately coming face to face with a +naked Mike. She doesn't notice Sam who is partially hidden by a +clothes rack. She just goes about trying a costume shirt. + LESLEY + Oh, that's nice... + (To Larry.) + Forgive him, Larry. Mike's like my five + year old son. Neither one of them has + clean underwear... + + LARRY + Or pubic hair, I imagine. + (Folding the pants.) + Okay, well, I can take out the suit but + we're going to need some new pants and + shirts. + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 24. + LARRY (CONT'D) + (Looking back.) + And underwear... + +Mike just stands there naked, staring at his penis in the +mirror. + + LESLEY + (To Larry.) + This is too small. + (To Mike.) + What the hell are you doing? + MIKE + Waiting for Larry to finish. + + LARRY + I'm finished. + +Larry disappears deeper into the costume room. + + MIKE + Okay, well, then I'm just standing here + with my balls out. + + LESLEY + Get dressed. Riggan's daughter is hanging + around, and I don't need her to walk in + here and-- + + MIKE + Leslie... + + LESLEY + No, Mike. You haven't seen her. She's + always hanging around, just-- I don't-- + Watching everyone. It's creepy. It's-- + + MIKE + Les... + + LESLEY + I don't know if the drugs fried her + brain or what, but I don't need her + running to her father saying you showed + her your junk. + + MIKE + Okay, then we should probably get her out + of here. + +Lesley's expression goes blank. + + LESLEY + Oh, God. Really? + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 25. + + MIKE + Hey, Sammy... + + SAM + It's Sam. + + LESLEY + Fuck. + +Sam steps forward. + LESLEY (CONT'D) + (To Sam.) + I didn't mean-- + + SAM + (Totally relaxed.) + It's cool. He's a handful, huh? + +They both look back at Mike. + LESLEY + Almost. + +Sam smiles at her and exits. Lesley wheels on Mike. + + LESLEY (CONT'D) + Jesus... How is it you always manage to find + a new way to humiliate me? + + MIKE + To be fair, you make it really easy. + + LESLEY + What the hell was she doing here? + + MIKE + She brought me. + + LESLEY + And stayed??? + MIKE + I know, right? She's a little-- + + LESLEY + Look at me, Mike. This is Broadway. I'm + here. Finally. And I'm begging you, if you + love me, please, do me a favor... don't + fuck it up. + + MIKE + (Gently.) + Come here. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 26. + + Lesley moves toward Mike. He cups her face in his hands + tenderly. They are face to face. + + MIKE (CONT'D) + Play with my balls... + + She twists his nipples hard and walks out. + + MIKE (CONT'D) + I won't fuck it up... Probably! + Larry reappears holding some clothes. We follow him out... + +10 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 10 + ...through the hallway. He walks by Jake and Riggan who are mid + conversation. We stay with them. + + + + RIGGAN (O.S.) + I don't care, sign it. + JAKE (O.S.) + Listen to me. + + RIGGAN (O.S.) + No you listen to me-- + + JAKE (O.S.) + I can't afford to listen to you... + + LARRY + I'm gonna need to go shopping + again. + + JAKE + Fucking sew something, you old + fuck! + + RIGGAN + I don't care. Give him what he + wants. + JAKE + His agent is asking for almost four + times what we were paying-- + + RIGGAN + Then go into the reserve. + + JAKE + The reserve is gone. You spent it + on the fog. And those fake trees... + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 27. + + RIGGAN + It's a dream sequence, it-- + + JAKE + And three union midgets that dance + around like-- + + RIGGAN + You're not supposed to call them + midgets-- + JAKE + The reserve is gone! + + RIGGAN + Listen to me, you didn't see what I + just saw. But you will, at the preview + tomorrow. Look, get the contract done. + I'll get the money. + +Riggan begins marching toward the stage. + JAKE + (Calling after him.) + When??? + +Laura comes down some stairs and chases Riggan. + + LAURA + (Incredulous.) + Hey, is it true? Shiner? + + RIGGAN + He's in. + + LAURA + Holy shit! When can I meet him? + + RIGGAN + He's in a fitting with Larry. +Lesley comes down the hallway. + + LESLEY + I'm going to Starbucks. You guys + want anything? + + RIGGAN + I'm fine. How's Mike? + + LESLEY + Did you talk to your daughter? + + RIGGAN + No. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 28. + + LESLEY + He's great. + + LAURA + (To Lesley. Matter-of- + factly.) + Honey, your tits look like fucking + anjou pears in that top! + + LESLEY + (Uncomfortable.) + Okay, well I'm gonna-- Thank you. + + She walks away. + + LAURA + And that ass. Like two eggs in a hanky! + +A10 A10 + + Riggan walks, Laura follows him. + + LAURA + Okay, I was going to tell you this over + dinner, but everything-- I have some news + too. + RIGGAN + Good or bad? Cause right now-- + + A technician walks by. + + LAURA + (Whispering.) + I missed my last two periods. + (Beat.) + I think it's happening this time. + + Riggan stops. Silent. A beat. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + Is that good or bad? + (He stares at her.) + Riggan...? + + RIGGAN + It's good. It's great. + She smiles, her eyes filled with emotion. Riggan smiles back, + and nods absently. + + LAURA + Say something else... + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 29. + + RIGGAN + (Joking.) + You're pretty sure it's mine? + + LAURA + (Unamused but plays along) + Well, let's see. There's you. Jake. That + masseuse wore a condom so... Yes, it's + yours... idiot. + + She puts her head on Riggan's chest. We see his mind racing. + Laura is moved, and confused. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + Are you excited? + + RIGGAN + Yeah. + + LAURA + Me too. + Laura moves slightly away from him and suddenly slaps him across + the face. Riggan looks at her, confused. + + RIGGAN + What--? + + LAURA + You're not funny. + + She kisses him intensely on the lips and briefly places his + hand on her belly, then moves it up to her breasts. After a + moment, she backs away. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + First preview tomorrow. Here we go! + + Laura turns and walks away. Riggan continues down the + corridor. He passes by a Security Guard· in front of a small + TV. The camera becomes Riggan's POV and advances until... + +11 INT. BACKSTAGE - THEATER - EVENING 11 + + ...we go through the stage door. We scan the backstage area to + see the stagehands ready to do their jobs. We can feel the + electricity of a first preview. + + On stage part of the kitchen set from before is visible. Annie + stands at her podium, calling the cues for the show. + + ANNIE + (Into her headset.) + Cue 34 and 35. Go. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 30. + +She turns and looks directly into the camera. + + ANNIE (CONT'D) + Places. + + RIGGAN (O.S.) + Okay. + +Riggan walks on screen wearing his costume, carrying a bucket of +ice and a bottle of gin. He goes to the opposite side of the +stage and takes his place in the wings. He peeks out at the +audience who seem to be watching with interest. + +Then we pan to the stage to find Mike, Lesley and Laura +performing the scene we saw at the beginning, around the table. +Mike looks comfortable, sipping at his drink. A half empty +bottle of gin on the table. + + MIKE + The maniac shot himself right in front of + us. I rode with him in the ambulance to the + hospital. + + LESLEY + I'll never get that image out of my head. + Right before he did it, his eyes-- they + were so sad... lonely. + + LAURA + Did you have to treat him? + + MIKE + I didn't have to. But I did. + (Pouring another drink.) + He was in bad shape. His head swelled + up to like twice the size of a normal + head. I'd never seen anything like + it. And I swear to God, I hope I + never do again. + +Riggan stands near Annie. + RIGGAN + He's good. + + ANNIE + He's incredible. I think he's + drinking real gin. + +Riggan looks out at Mike, who is refilling his glass. + + RIGGAN + What? + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 31. + + A stagehand gives Riggan a bottle. Riggan watches and waits + for his cue. + + MIKE + Ask Nick what real love is. He'll + agree with me. You watch. + + LESLEY + Why don't we just head to the + restaurant? + LAURA + Don't get him started, Mel. You + haven't seen how he's been lately. + He's been depressed. I'm worried + about him. He's been-- + + She gently pushes Riggan and we follow him on stage... + +12 INT. STAGE - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 12 + ...where Mike goes to refill his glass with the last of the + real gin. Riggan snatches the bottle out of his hands and + gulps the rest, straight from the bottle. + + RIGGAN + Been what? (Beat.) I'll tell you + what real love is. This happened a + few months ago. + (Drops bottle on table) + And it ought to make us ashamed + when we talk like we know what + we're talking about when we talk + about love. + + LAURA + Nick, for God's sake. Are you + getting drunk? + + RIGGAN + (Pointed at Mike.) + I don't have to be drunk to say + what I think. + + MIKE + Nobody's drunk. We're just having a + few drinks. + + LESLEY + You've had more than a few. + + RIGGAN + What are you, counting? + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 32. + + LAURA + Don't you talk to her like that. + Don't talk like a drunk if you're + not-- + + RIGGAN + (Exploding.) + Shut up. For once in your life. + Will you do me a favor and shut up + for a minute? + (Beat.) + Like I was saying... There's this + old couple, had a car wreck out on + the interstate. Some drunk kid + plowed his dad's pick up into their + camper. + +We begin to hear the underscoring of violins. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Fucking teenager. By the time I got + to the hospital, the kid was dead. + He was off in a corner laid out on + a gurney. We took the old couple up + to the O.R.. They were a mess. We + worked like hell on them for most + of the night... + +Over the speech, Mike reaches for the new bottle that Riggan +placed on stage. He refills his glass. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + When we were done, we wrapped them in full + body casts. The husband was depressed. + Even when I told him his wife was gonna + pull through, he was still depressed. So, + I got up to his mouth hole and asked him, + and he told me it was because he couldn't + see her through the eye holes. Can you + imagine? I'm telling you, the man's heart + was breaking because he couldn't turn his + goddamn head and see his goddamn wife. + +Riggan is doing a good job. Lesley and Laura are genuinely +moved. Mike notices. He sips his drink. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + I mean... It was killing him. Killing him + that he-- + + MIKE + I'm tired of this shit. + +They all look at Mike. In silence. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 33. + + MIKE (CONT'D) + (to Riggan) + What the fuck is this? Water? + +He hurls the glass against the wall. Some laughter from the +audience. Riggan stares at him, confused. He presses on. + + RIGGAN + It was killing the old bastard... + + MIKE + Did you just give me water? + + RIGGAN + Come on, Mike. + + MIKE + Come on what? + + RIGGAN + Take it easy. You're drunk. + MIKE + Of course I'm drunk! I'm supposed to + be drunk! This is Carver, man! The guy + lost a piece of liver every time he + wrote a page! If I'm supposed to drink + gin then bring me fuckin gin! I mean, + you fucked the time period! You took + all the good lines for yourself! At + least let me-- + +The audience is now hysterical. Dozens of cell phones +pointing at the stage. Mike walks toward the apron, facing +the audience. + + MIKE (CONT'D) + Oh, okay. Seriously? You people are + pathetic. Put the cell phones down and + join the real world! Will somebody + please just live in the real world?!! +He crosses to the refrigerator. + + LAURA + Where's he going? + + LESLEY + (Firmly.) + Mike, cut it out. + +Mike rummages through the fridge. + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 34. + + MIKE + Look at this. It's all fake. + (Tossing items out of the + fridge.) + The milk is fake. The butter is fake. + + Riggan storms off the stage. + + MIKE (CONT'D) + (To Riggan.) + Your performance is fake. + (He finds some fried + chicken.) + Hey! There's chicken. Real chicken. The + only thing real up here is the chicken. + So I'm gonna stick with the chicken. + + The audience laughs harder. + + MIKE (O.S.) (CONT'D) + Hey, this is good bird, man! + Riggan charges through the chaos backstage running into a + panicked Annie. + + RIGGAN + Get Mike out of here. + + ANNIE + How do you want me to do that? + + Riggan keeps walking up to... + +13 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 13 + ...the hallway. Jake chases him. + + RIGGAN + I want him gone. + + JAKE + No. + + RIGGAN + What? + + JAKE + We can't do that. + + RIGGAN + What are you-- Of course we can do that. + It's our show. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 35. + + JAKE + Riggan, listen to me-- + +Riggan comes to a halt and faces Jake. + + RIGGAN + No. You listen to me. Get him the fuck out + of my play. Did you see him out there? + + JAKE + It was a preview! Nobody gives a shit about + previews. Nothing matters until that old + bat from the New York Times is sitting in + that audience on opening night. + + RIGGAN + We're getting rid of him. I'm not going to + stand up on that stage and-- + + JAKE + Shut up! Just shut up for once and + listen to me. As soon as we announced he + was taking over, the advance doubled. We + can't afford to lose a preview. We can't + afford to lose money. We can't afford to + lose Mike. This is about being + respected, validated, remember? That's + what you told me. That's how you got me + into this shit. Now, you're the + director. Get him under control. + (A beat. As a friend.) + These are not the nineties anymore. + +Jake storms away. Riggan heads toward his dressing room. Out +of nowhere, Mike barrels into him, pinning him against a wall. + + RIGGAN + (Startled.) + Holy Fuck! + +Mike presses up against Riggan, breathing down his neck. After a +painful silence... + + MIKE + (Like he's possessed.) + You were good... + + RIGGAN + Meet me in front of the theater in + 10 minutes. + +Mike chuckles and slaps Riggan gently on the face before he +disappears into his dressing room. Riggan begins walking +again. We follow him into... + 10/29/14 / 36. + +14 INT. RIGGAN'S DRESSING ROOM - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 14 + + ...his dressing room. He goes into the bathroom and quickly + washes his face. + + SYLVIA (O.S.) + What the hell was going on up there? + + We pan over to see his ex-wife Sylvia (43), standing in one + corner, staring at Riggan. She is elegant and simply beautiful. + + RIGGAN + I didn't know you were here tonight. + SYLVIA + That guy's an asshole, huh? + + Riggan dries his hands with a towel and comes out of the + bathroom. + + RIGGAN + What are you doing here? + SYLVIA + Sam and I are going to grab a bite + after she's finished with-- + + RIGGAN + No, I mean here. Now. + + SYLVIA + Well. I know how much this means to + you, so-- + + RIGGAN + I appreciate that. + + A beat. + + SYLVIA + So, how's it going? + + RIGGAN + The play? + + SYLVIA + No, you and Sam. + + RIGGAN + It's good. (A beat.) It's the same. + + SYLVIA + Do you talk to her? + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 37. + + RIGGAN + We talk. We-- I don't know, it's been crazy + around here. + + SYLVIA + You understand where her head is at right + now. + + RIGGAN + Of course. + SYLVIA + She's trying to stay away from everything + and everyone that got her into rehab in the + first place, but... + + RIGGAN + ...I know, Sylvia... + + SYLVIA + ...But that's all she had. So she's-- + RIGGAN + I really do get it. + + SYLVIA + I know you're caught up in all this stuff, + but-- + + RIGGAN + Stuff... + + SYLVIA + You know what I mean. + (Beat.) + Riggan... You don't have to be a great + father right now, you just have to be one. + + RIGGAN + Yeah. +Suddenly, Laura opens the door and sticks her head in. + + LAURA + (Noticing Sylvia.) + Oh, sorry. + +She closes the door. Awkward silence. + + SYLVIA + So how is that going? Is she and + Sam--? + + RIGGAN + I don't wanna talk about it. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 38. + +He goes to a small fridge, takes out a beer and closes it. + + SYLVIA + You're drinking? + + RIGGAN + I'm having a beer. + + SYLVIA + Okay... +He sits and sips in silence for a moment. Then he begins to +take out the wig. + + RIGGAN + So, what's going on with you? + + SYLVIA + Me? Nothing. Everything's the same I guess. + I'm going back to teaching. + RIGGAN + I'm thinking about refinancing the Malibu + house. + + SYLVIA + Wh-- I'm sorry? + + RIGGAN + I'm thinking about-- + + SYLVIA + No, I heard you. I just need a second to-- + (A beat.) That's gonna be Sam's house. Why + would you-- (A beat.) What? For this play? + + RIGGAN + (Honest and vulnerable.) + I need the money. + + SYLVIA + Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds? + + RIGGAN + What do you want me to say? My health + lasted longer than the money... Go figure + that out. + +Riggan seems pensive and lost. + + SYLVIA + Riggan... + (Beat.) + What's going on?... Look at me. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 39. + +Riggan gently looks up to Sylvia. + + RIGGAN + I have a chance to do something right. And I + have to take it. I have to. + + SYLVIA + It's funny. I was sitting here waiting + for you, and all of a sudden I couldn't + remember why we broke up. +Silence. Then, as if he hasn't heard what she said. + + RIGGAN + The last time I flew here from LA, George + Clooney was sitting two seats in front of + me. With those cuff links, and that... + chin. We ended up flying through this + really bad storm. The plane started to + rattle and shake, and everyone on board + was crying... and praying. And I just sat + there-- Sat there thinking that when Sam + opened that paper it was going to be + Clooney's face on the front page. Not + mine. (A beat.) Did you know that Farrah + Fawcett died on the same day as Michael + Jackson? + +She smiles sadly. She kisses him on the head and goes to the +door. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Why did we break up? + + SYLVIA + (Looks him in the eye.) + You threw a kitchen knife at me... + +Riggan is smacked by that memory. His eyes on the floor. + + SYLVIA (CONT'D) + ...and one hour later you were + telling me how much you loved me. + (Beat.) + Just because I didn't like that + ridiculous comedy you did with Goldie + Hawn didn't mean I did not love you. + But that's what you always do. You + confuse love with admiration. + +She smiles sadly. He looks at her. As Sylvia opens the door, +she turns back to Riggan... + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 40. + + SYLVIA (CONT'D) + It's your house, so do what you want with + it. Just make sure you're there for our + daughter. + + RIGGAN + I will. + + SYLVIA + You're not Farrah Fawcett, Riggan. + She exits. Painful silence... until... + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + We should have done that reality show they + offered us. "The Thomsons." That would've + been good. Crazy, druggy, wise ass daughter. + Milfy wife with the perky tits. People would + have watched that. + + RIGGAN + (To the poster.) + Shut up. + + Riggan stands up and grabs his jacket. He opens the door and + goes out to... + +15 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 15 + ...the hallway. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + Where are we goin'? + + RIGGAN + (Almost whispering.) + Leave me alone. + + Riggan walks between crew members. Annie interrupts him. + + ANNIE + The sun bed is here. + + RIGGAN + What does that mean? + + ANNIE + It means there's a sun bed out there + being delivered to in here. + + RIGGAN + Who ordered a sun bed? + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 41. + + ANNIE + Mike. He says it's for his character. + Carver's red necks, "people of the + land". Part of his process and that + shit. + + Riggan cannot deal with this right now. He continues walking + until he arrives at a metal door that takes him out to... + +16 EXT. AN ALLEY WAY - OUTSIDE THE THEATER - CONTINUOUS 16 + + ...an alley way. Riggan walks toward the street. There is a man + playing drums. Riggan finds Mike leaning against a parked car, + dazed and looking up at the marquis... + + RIGGAN + Let's go. Walk. + + Riggan begins to walk, Mike follows. + + MIKE + Where are we going? + RIGGAN + To get you some coffee. Have I done + anything to disrespect you? + + MIKE + Not yet. + + RIGGAN + I have a lot riding on this play. + MIKE + Is that right? + + RIGGAN + People know who I am, and-- + + MIKE + Bullshit. + + RIGGAN + Mike-- + + MIKE + Bullshit. People don't know you. They + know the guy in the bird suit. They + know the guy who tells those quaint, + slightly vomitous stories on Letterman. + + RIGGAN + Well, I'm sorry for being popular, but + that-- + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 42. + + MIKE + (With irony.) + Popular? POPULAR?... Oh God, popularity is + just the slutty little cousin of prestige. + + RIGGAN + Okay, I don't even know what that-- + + MIKE + My reputation is riding on this play. + And that's... That is... + RIGGAN + A lot? + + MIKE + A lot. Exactly. Fuck you. Yes. This + doesn't work out for you, you get to go + home to your studio pals and jump right + back into that cultural genocide you + guys are perpetrating. "There's a + douchbag born every minute". That was + P.T. Barnum's premise when he got rich + inventing the circus. And you and your + pals know nothing's changed, and + whatever toxic shit you make people are + still gonna pay to see it. But, after + you're gone, I'll still be here. I'll + still be making my living on the stage. + Baring my soul. Wrestling with emotions, + complex emotions. + + RIGGAN + Right. Is that what tonight was about then? + (Mocking him.) Wrestling with "complex + emotions"? + + MIKE + Tonight was about making it alive. About + making it bleed. This isn't the Warner + Brothers lot, Riggan. This is the city, and + this is how we do things. + +Mike turns and opens the front door of The Rum House. + + RIGGAN + Where are you going? + + MIKE + They have coffee in here. + +He walks into the restaurant. Riggan backtracks and we follow +him into... + 10/29/14 / 43. + +17 INT. RUM HOUSE - CONTINUOUS 17 + + ...The Rum House. Mike stands at the bar, the bartender + already pouring two whiskeys. + + MIKE + (To bartender.) + Thanks, Tommy. + + Tommy nods and walks away. + + RIGGAN + (Getting back on point.) + People were laughing in our faces. + + MIKE + (Handing Riggan a drink.) + Tonight they were laughing, tomorrow + they'll be... be.. tweeting about us. Fuck + `em. Who cares??? These are the people who + pay half price to watch us rehearse. Stop + fucking caring! + RIGGAN + We're doing Raymond Carver. This play is a + drama. This play is-- + + MIKE + You don't know what this play is. These are + previews. This is where we find out what + the play is. + + Mike points to an Older Woman sitting at the bar. She sips a + martini and scribbles in a notebook with a sour expression. + + MIKE (CONT'D) + You see that woman over there? The one that + looks like she just licked a homeless guy's + ass? Nothing matters until she writes five + hundred words about us in the New York Times. + + RIGGAN + That's... + MIKE + Tabitha Dickinson. Yes. And, believe it or + not, the only thing that matters in theater + is whether she likes us or not. She does, + we run. She doesn't, we're fucked. + + RIGGAN + (Preoccupied.) + She does look like she licked a homeless + guy's ass. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 44. + + MIKE + Do me a favor, don't get your panties in a + twist over a preview, alright? And don't tell + me how to do my job. Cause, this is my town. + And, to be honest, nobody gives a shit about + you around here. + + LADY (O.S.) + You're Riggan Thompson, right? + +Two fat tourists in "Mamma Mia" t-shirts, with a seven year old +kid, approach the table. + + HUSBAND + (Timidly.) + We're sorry to interrupt... + + LADY + Would you mind terribly if we got a + picture? + RIGGAN + Of course. It's no trouble at all. + +The Lady shoves her camera into Mike's hands. + + LADY + (To Mike.) + Would you mind? + +Mike gets up with a blank expression and takes the camera. +The Lady pushes the kid into the booth next to Riggan. + + LADY (CONT'D) + (Ordering Mike.) + The button right on top there. + + KID + Who is this guy? + + LADY + (To his son.) + Come on, Billy. He used to be like Batman. + +She yanks the kid closer and they squeeze up against Riggan. +Mike takes the photo and holds the camera to the lady. + + LADY (CONT'D) + (To Mike) + I think you screwed that one up. Take + another one. + +Mike takes another picture. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 45. + + LADY (CONT'D) + (To Riggan.) + God bless you, darlin'. You're very sweet. + And handsome! + +She kisses Riggan hard on the mouth. Then gets up, giddy, and +takes her son by the hand. As the couple leaves, husband shoves +a five dollar bill into Mike's hands. + + HUSBAND + We really appreciate it. +An agitated Mike takes a sip of whiskey. + + MIKE + Are we good here? Cause I'm gonna go. + + RIGGAN + See you tomorrow. + +Mike places the dollar under one of the shot glasses and begins +to walk away, but then stops and turns curiously. + + MIKE + Why Raymond Carver? You never told me. + +Riggan looks at Mike for a second, than reaches for his wallet +and produces an old cocktail napkin with some writing on it. He +slides it to Mike. + + RIGGAN + A long time ago, I did a play back in + high school in Michigan. He was in the + audience. He sent this backstage after. + + MIKE + "Thank you for an honest performance. Ray + Carver." What is this? + +Riggan looks vulnerable. He is trying to make Mike understand +the importance of the napkin, to build a bridge between them. + RIGGAN + And that's when I knew I was going to + be an actor. + +Mike can't stop himself from smiling. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Why is that funny? + + MIKE + He wrote it on a cocktail napkin. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 46. + + RIGGAN + So... + + Mike slides the napkin back to Riggan. + + MIKE + He was drunk. + +A17 A17 + + He walks away and we follow him as he passes by the bar next + to Tabitha Dickinson, the Critic. + + TABITHA + You headed to Hollywood, Mike? + + Mike stops. + MIKE + Hollywood's headed here, Tabby. + + TABITHA + (A devilish smile.) + Good luck with that. + + Mike looks directly into her eyes. + + MIKE + "A man becomes a critic when he can not be an + artist, in the same way that a man becomes an + informer when he cannot be a soldier." + Flaubert, right? + + He flashes his own devilish smile. She stares back. If she + weren't so much older than him, you'd swear there was sexual + electricity between them. + + TABITHA + He's a Hollywood clown in a Lycra bird + suit. + + MIKE + Yeah. And at 8 o'clock tomorrow, he's gonna + get on stage and risk everything. What're + you gonna be doing? + + A standoff. + + TABITHA + Don't you ever worry that I'll give you a + bad review? + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 47. + + MIKE + Oh, I'm sure you will. If I ever give a bad + performance. + (Beat.) + Ms. Dickinson. + + TABITHA + Mr. Shiner. + + Mike smiles and waves over to an obviously nervous Riggan. He + goes toward the exit, but we stay with Tabitha, scribbling on + her notebook. Suddenly she raises her eyes and, with a dark + expression, looks at Riggan who is passing by. + + We follow Riggan toward the exit. Through the window we see him + leave the restaurant. Then we pan to a wooden wall, and this + wall takes us to... + +19 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - LATER 19 + + ...the theater hallway. Riggan walks through the quiet corridor, + until he arrives at... + +20 INT. GREEN ROOM - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 20 + ...the Green Room. Sam sits listlessly, drawing some lines + across a roll of toilet paper. + + RIGGAN + What're you still doing here? + + SAM + (Continues scribbling.) + Nothing. I'm-- Nothing. Your costumes are + hanging in your room. + + RIGGAN + Great... + + SAM + I got the coconut water you wanted. If you + want me to get-- + + RIGGAN + Hey. + + SAM + What? + + RIGGAN + I'm not sure if I said thank you. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 48. + + SAM + For what? + + RIGGAN + All of it. You've been doing a good job. + And I've been... + + SAM + Yeah. + + RIGGAN + So, I just wanted to say that-- + (He stops abruptly.) + What is that? + + SAM + What...? + + RIGGAN + That smell. + SAM + I don't-- + + RIGGAN + Look at me. + + SAM + What are you-- + + RIGGAN + Look at me. + +She does. He examines her eyes, then immediately rises, scouring +the room. + + SAM + Dad... + + RIGGAN + (Continuing to search.) + You have to be shitting me... Where is it? + + SAM + Could we not do this? + +Riggan pulls a jar of peanut butter from the trash. + + RIGGAN + What is this? + + SAM + That is chunky peanut butter that happens, + by the way, to have Omega-- + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 49. + +Riggan pulls a stubbed joint out of the jar. + + RIGGAN + This. + + SAM + Oh. That's pot. + + RIGGAN + Sam. + SAM + Alright, just relax. + + RIGGAN + Relax? What the hell are you doing? + + SAM + Protecting myself from cataracts? + + RIGGAN + You can't do this to me! + + SAM + To you? + + RIGGAN + SHUT UP! You know what I'm talking about. + + SAM + Yeah. You're talking about you. What else + is new? + + RIGGAN + Don't try to-- + + SAM + What? Make it about me? I wouldn't dream of + it. + + RIGGAN + Listen to me. I'm trying to do something + that's important... + + SAM + This is not important. + + RIGGAN + It's important to me! Alright? Maybe not to + you, or your cynical playmates whose sole + ambition is to end up going viral and who, + by the way, will only be remembered as the + generation that finally stopped talking to + one another. But to me... To me... This is-- + God. This is my career, this is my chance + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 50. + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + to do some work that actually means + something. + + SAM + Means something to who? You had a career + before the third comic book movie, before + people began to forget who was inside the + bird costume. You're doing a play based on + a book that was written 60 years ago, for + a thousand rich, old white people whose + only real concern is gonna be where they + go to have their cake and coffee when it's + over. Nobody gives a shit but you. And + let's face it, Dad, it's not for the sake + of art. It's because you just want to feel + relevant again. Well, there's a whole + world out there where people fight to be + relevant every day. And you act like it + doesn't even exist! Things are happening + in a place that you willfully ignore, a + place that has already forgotten you. I + mean who are you? You hate bloggers. You + make fun of twitter. You don't even have a + Facebook page. You're the one who doesn't + exist. You're doing this because you're + scared to death, like the rest of us, that + you don't matter. And you know what? + You're right. You don't. It's not + important. You're not important. Get used + to it. + + Silence. Riggan seems devastated, and Sam can see that. + + Sam (CONT'D) + Dad... + + She looks at him sympathetically, but not knowing what to + say... exits. + + After a moment Riggan gets up and heads for the trash can. He + digs out the roach, grabs some matches and lights it. Music + begins to sound. He inhales deeply and holds the smoke for a + few seconds and finally exhales. He coughs, tosses away the + joint and heads out of the kitchen. We follow him... + +21 INT. HALLWAY - THEATRE - CONTINUOUS 21 + + ...as he slowly walks until he disappears into the darkness of + the corridor. We keep moving forward until we end up... + 10/29/14 / 51. + +A21 INT. BACKSTAGE - THEATRE - EVENING A21 + + ...backstage. We are in the middle of the second preview. The + music continues, it belongs to the play. + + Laura is by herself on stage performing the end of a scene. She + stands in the middle of a surrealistic forest set, at dusk. + There is fog, and trees. A strong, artificial wind blows + through Laura's hair. Desolate music. + + LAURA + (To the audience as soliloquy.) + In the days before Nick's depression really + started to eat away at him, he had no idea + I was pregnant. And I never intended on + telling him. I guess we make choices in + life, and we choose to live with them. Or + not. I didn't want that baby... + + Three dancers on stage pass by in front of Laura. We follow + the dancers backstage where we find Mike and Lesley wearing + pajamas. + LAURA (O.S.) (CONT'D) + ...Not because I didn't love Nick. And not + because I didn't love the-- The idea of + it. But because I just wasn't ready to + love myself. There's a certain distance to + it all now. A wistful distance. + Underscored by a gentle breeze and the + sound of the birds... laughing at the + whimsy of it all. + + A stage hand helps Mike and Lesley into a double bed. The + camera slips under the covers with them and stays there. + + MIKE + (Whispering.) + Hey, Les... + + LESLEY + (Whispering.) + What? + MIKE + I'm hard. + + LESLEY + No, you're not. It's just that sometimes + you don't consider other people's feelings. + + MIKE + No. I'm hard. Feel. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 52. + + LESLEY + Oh, you gotta be kidding. + + The stage begins to revolve as we hear... + + +22 INT. STAGE - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 22 + ...music through the transition. It remains dark. + + MIKE + Let's really do this. Let's fuck. + + LESLEY + Are you crazy? No. + + Mike rolls on top of Lesley. + + LESLEY (CONT'D) + Cut it out... + + Mike continues to maneuver himself. + + LESLEY (CONT'D) + I'm serious, Mike. Stop! + + MIKE + I'm Mel. Not Mike. Mel. + A knock on a door. + + RIGGAN (O.S.) + Terri! Terri! + + A furious Lesley tries to reposition herself under Mike. + + RIGGAN (O.S.) (CONT'D) + Terri! I know you're in there! + + The knocking gets louder. + + RIGGAN (O.S.) (CONT'D) + Terri??? + + Mike, lost in his libido, has begun to have sex with Lesley. + The camera comes out from under the covers and pans to Riggan + who stumbles into what is now the Motel Room set. He wears a + mustache and a long wig, that makes him look like a wild man. + He holds a gun in his right hand. A neon "Motel" sign is + illuminated. A clever effect of falling rain is visible behind + the set, accompanied by the appropriate sound effect. Riggan + is wet because of the "rain". + + Lesley uses Riggan's entrance to escape from Mike. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 53. + + LESLEY + Ed! + +Mike hops out of bed, unaware of the very noticeable erection +protruding underneath his pajama bottoms. + +Some laughter from the audience. + + LESLEY (CONT'D) + What are you doing here? +Lesley doesn't understand the audience response, until she +notices the erection herself. + + RIGGAN + (To Lesley.) + Why? I need you to tell me why. I lived for + you. I worshipped you... + + MIKE + Listen Ed, I know this is hard but-- +More laughter. Riggan is disturbed, but he continues... + + RIGGAN + (to Mike) + Fuck you. Shut up. Fuck you. + +He shoves Mike violently to the floor. + + LESLEY + Eddie! Please! + +Riggan points the gun at Mike's head. + + RIGGAN + What's wrong with me? Why do I end up + having to beg people to love me? + + LESLEY + Ed. Eddie. Please... Give me the gun. +She begins to cry. Her performance is beautiful. + + LESLEY (CONT'D) + Just look at me. I was drowning. I + was not capable of-- You deserve to + be loved. You do. + + RIGGAN + I just wanted to be what you wanted. + (Beat.) + Now I spend every fucking minute praying to + be someone else. Someone I'm not. Anyone... + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 54. + + MIKE + Put down the gun, Ed. She just doesn't love + you anymore. + + The audience is silent. + + RIGGAN + (A sad smile.) + You don't, do you? + + LESLEY + (With sympathy.) + No... + + RIGGAN + And you never will... + + LESLEY + I'm sorry. + + RIGGAN + (A revelation.) + I don't exist. I'm not even here. I don't + exist. None of this matters. + + Riggan points the gun at Lesley. Then at Mike. Finally, he puts + the gun to his own head and pulls the trigger. PUM! And with the + explosion, a fake blood mechanism splatters brains onto the + stage. Riggan drops to the floor. + + A blackout. The audience applauds politely. The curtain falls. + We follow Riggan off stage and into... + +23 INT. BACKSTAGE - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 23 + ...the wings, where Annie immediately helps him remove the + bloody and wet wig with the propeller mechanism. Laura waits + next to them for their bows. Meanwhile, a stage hand crosses + behind them, and we follow him as he goes on stage to... + +24 INT. STAGE - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 24 + + ...reposition some scenery for the curtain call. The camera + carries us to the other side of the stage, where Mike and Lesley + are in a heated exchange... + + MIKE + Just, keep your voice down... + + LESLEY + (Furious.) + You have to be shitting me. You can't get it + up in six months... + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 55. + LESLEY (CONT'D) + (She starts hitting him.) + ...and now you try to fuck me in front of + eight hundred strangers??? + + MIKE + What do you want from me? I have to feel it. + You know that. I told you that from the-- + + LESLEY + Oh, fuck you... +Music begins and the curtain rises. The audience applauds as +Lesley and Mike stride onto the stage and take their bows, +smiles plastered on their faces. + + MIKE + ...I was in the moment... + + LESLEY + I told you to stop. You fucking animal. + MIKE + But... You were incredible. + + LESLEY + What is wrong with you? + +Lesley starts back for the wings, and Mike follows her. In the +background we see Riggan and Laura enter from the other side to +take their bows. + + MIKE + Listen I'm sorry, alright, I-- + + LESLEY + I want your shit out of the apartment. + +They go back on stage and join Riggan and Laura for the company +bow. + + MIKE + Can we-- + + LESLEY + No we can't. Maybe up here you're Mr. Truth, + Mike. But in the real world, where it counts, + you're a fraud. How's that for truth? You... + dick. + +Lesley storms off, leaving Mike and a confused Riggan on stage. +Laura chases her off and straight into... + 10/29/14 / 56. + +25 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 25 + + ...the hallway. + + LAURA + What's going on? + + LESLEY + He's an asshole. + + LAURA + What did he do now? + LESLEY + Oh, nothing. He just tried to fuck me in + front of a full house. + + LAURA + Oh, my God... + + LESLEY + Right? + LAURA + That's kind of hot. + + She follows Lesley into... + +26 INT. LESLEY AND LAURA'S DRESSING ROOM - THEATER - CONTINUOUS + 26 + + ...the dressing room and closes the door. Lesley proceeds to + smash everything on her dressing table. Then she looks in the + mirror holding a hairbrush. + + LESLEY + Why don't I have any self-respect? + + LAURA + You're an actress, honey. + + Lesley begins to cry. Laura hugs her. + LESLEY + I'm pathetic. You know, I've dreamt of + being a Broadway actress since I was a + little kid. And now I'm here. And I'm not a + Broadway actress. I'm still just a little + kid. And I keep waiting for someone to tell + me I made it. + + LAURA + (Hiding how moved she is.) + Hey. You made it. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 57. + + LESLEY + I did? + + LAURA + Sadly, it was with Mike Shiner, on a fake + motel bed, in front of-- + + LESLEY + (A little laugh.) + Shut. Up. +Riggan steps into the doorway and sees Laura hugging Lesley. + + RIGGAN + Is she okay? + + LAURA + She's gonna be fine. + +Riggan enters gingerly and walks up to Lesley. + RIGGAN + None of this is your fault. + (Into her eyes.) + You're beautiful. And talented. And I'm + lucky to have you. Okay? + + LESLEY + Okay. + + RIGGAN + Okay. + +Riggan leaves the room. Laura leans on the makeup table. + + LESLEY + That was very sweet. + + LAURA + Yeah. +Laura is suddenly teary. + + LESLEY + What's wrong? + +A beat. + + LAURA + (Smiling.) + Nothing. Two years, he's never said + anything like that to me. + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 58. + + LESLEY + (Into her eyes.) + Hey. You're smart. And beautiful. And + talented. And I'm lucky to have you. Okay? + + LAURA + We're gross. + + LESLEY + We are. + Laura smiles and caresses Lesley's hand. They look at each + other. Then Laura leans forward, close to Lesley's face... + + LESLEY (CONT'D) + (Nervous.) + What are you doing? + + LAURA + Nothing. + Laura kisses Lesley tenderly on the lips. Lesley seems + confused. A few seconds of silence. Then... + + LESLEY + Do it again. + + Laura kisses her again. A knock at the door. They separate. + Mike opens the door holding the prop gun. + + MIKE + (To Lesley.) + Can we talk about this like two-- + + Lesley hurls the hair brush at his head. + + LESLEY + FUCK YOU!!! + + MIKE + Okay, well, you're not ready. + Mike points the prop gun at her, pretends to fire and... + + MIKE (CONT'D) + That was hot. + + He exits the room. We follow him... + +27 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 27 + ...down the hallway up to Riggan's dressing room. Riggan sits + at his table, picking the brains out of his hair. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 59. + + MIKE + (Holding the gun.) + Your gun is ridiculous. It looks like a + plastic toy. And it still has the red plug + in the barrel. + (Shows the plug.) + You look like a seven year old when + you're holding it. I'm not threatened + by it at all. + + He tosses the gun onto Riggan's table. + MIKE (CONT'D) + Have some self respect and get a new one. + (Takes a step then turns.) + That was a fun crowd, huh? + + We follow Mike to... + +28 INT. STAIRS - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 28 + ...the stairs. He climbs them as he lights a cigarette. He goes + through a metal door that takes him out onto... + + +29 EXT. ROOFTOP - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 29 + + ...a rooftop. The Marquis' of the other theaters glowing with + the street lamps, a classic Broadway view. + + Mike is surprised to find Sam sitting on the cornice of the + building, a good fifty feet above 45th street. He goes next to + her, looking down at the street. + + MIKE + I don't think it's high enough. + + Sam turns to him, uncomfortable by his presence. + SAM + Me neither. + + MIKE + So, what are you doing up here? + + SAM + (Hesitant.) + Adrenaline. Just came out of rehab. Closest + I get to a drug. + + MIKE + You were in rehab? + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 60. + + SAM + (Distant.) + Yeah. + + MIKE + Cool. + + SAM + It wasn't all Dr. Drew or anything, but + that dude from American Pie was there. + A VOICE + (From the street below.) + Juuump! + + SAM + (Calling down.) + Eat me! + + A VOICE + Okay. Jump on my face! + SAM + (To Mike.) + I love this city. + + MIKE + Yeah. + + SAM + (Casually.) + Why do you act like a dick all the time? Do + you just do it to antagonize people? + + MIKE + Maybe... + +Sam turns and faces Mike. + + SAM + You really don't give a shit if people like + you or not... + + MIKE + Not really. + + SAM + (More comfortable.) + God, that's cool. + + MIKE + Is it...? + +Mike leans on the railing, looking down at the street. For a +moment, he is somewhere else... + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 61. + + SAM + Hey. + (Mike doesn't respond. She pushes + him.) + Hey... + + MIKE + What? + + SAM + Let's play a game. + MIKE + A game? + + SAM + Yeah. + + MIKE + What are you, eight? + SAM + What are you, seventy-eight? Truth or + dare...? + + MIKE + You gotta be-- + + SAM + Truth or dare? + +He looks at her, intrigued. + + MIKE + Truth. + + SAM + The first time we met, you made a comment about + my ass. Why'd you do it? + + MIKE + Because you have a great ass, and I noticed + it. So, I said it. + (A beat.) + Truth or dare? + + SAM + Dare. + + MIKE + Really... + + SAM + Uh-huh. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 62. + +A moment of tension. + + MIKE + (Looking at the street.) + There's a bald guy about to walk by down + there. Spit on his head. + + SAM + No! + + MIKE + You said dare. + + SAM + Truth. + + MIKE + Too late. + +She stares into Mike's eyes, knowing she's being tested. She +leans over the railing and spits down toward the street. + SAM + Happy? + + MAN (O.C.) + (From the street) + Fuck you! + +Sam laughs. Mike smiles at her carefree laugh. It could be the +first time we've seen a genuine smile from him. + + SAM + Truth or dare? + + MIKE + Truth. + + SAM + You're boring. + MIKE + Truth. + +She stares him down. + + SAM + (Nervous, pretending.) + Do you want to fool around with me? + +A pause. + + MIKE + No. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 63. + + SAM + (Taken aback.) + Really? Why not? + + MIKE + That's a second question. + + SAM + It's a second part. + +A pause. + MIKE + I'd be afraid I couldn't get it up. + +Impressed with his honesty. + + SAM + That didn't seem to be a problem for you on + stage. + MIKE + Nothing's a problem for me on stage. + + SAM + I wanna ask another question... + + MIKE + You just asked-- + + SAM + One more. + + MIKE + Go 'head. + + SAM + If you weren't afraid. What would you want + to do to me? + +He carefully considers it, then moves his face close to hers. + MIKE + I would want to pull the eyes out of your + head... + + SAM + ...That's sweet... + + MIKE + ...And stick them in my skull, and then + look out at this street and see it the way + I saw it when I was your age. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 64. + + Mike turns and stares out at the street once more. Sam stares + at the mystery that is Mike. + + SAM + G'night, Mike. + + She walks away and into the building, never looking back. + +A29 A29 + + Mike stares out into the night. We move to his POV. The street. + Night turns to day. Pedestrians begin to walk below. + + +B29 B29 + + We crawl down the wall until we arrive at Riggan's dressing + room window. We push in to find... + +30 INT. RIGGAN'S DRESSING ROOM - THEATER - DAY 30 + ...Riggan siting with his feet on the window frame, staring at + a manila envelope in his hands that reads... "R, MALIBU + REFINANCE DOCS. SIGN AND SEND ASAP. J." Riggan sighs and props + the letter up against the mirror. + + With a soft knock, Laura enters. She stands in the doorway with + an odd expression on her face. + + RIGGAN + What now? + Laura lays the Arts section of the New York Times down in front + of Riggan. + + LAURA + Don't kill the messenger. + + Riggan picks up the paper. His expression immediately changes. + Laura watches him sympathetically. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + He's an asshole. + + Now we see the cover of the Arts section. There is a picture + of Mike lounging on a black sofa, his bare feet on a table as + he sips a glass of wine. The Title of the article reads... + "CARVING OUT HIS PLACE IN THEATER HISTORY. Shiner says Raymond + Carver is the reason he became an actor." Riggan involuntarily + squeezes the paper as he reads on, filling with rage. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + He's fooling you. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 65. + + RIGGAN + Shut up. + + LAURA + (Confused.) + I didn't say anything. + + RIGGAN + Fuck. This is it? + (He passes a few pages.) + This can't be it. + LAURA + Page twelve. + +Riggan searches desperately for page twelve. When he gets +there, he finds a huge ad of the new Toyota Camry that almost +fills the entire page, and down in the left corner a tiny +press release with the title: + +"From Birdman to Carver: An aging Action Hero Grasps for His +Youth." + + RIGGAN + (Reading.) + "Riggan Thompson, better known as the face of + the Birdman films, tries not to lay an egg on + Broadway..." + (Flipping pages.) + Where's the rest of it? + + LAURA + There is no rest of it. + + RIGGAN + They didn't use the photo I sent them. + + LAURA + What photo? + + RIGGAN + The one you liked. The one you said + I look like a young Jack Nicholson. + + LAURA + (She lights a candle.) + Don't worry about it. Someone'll be using + that to pick up dog shit tomorrow. + + RIGGAN + How can you be so calm about this? + + LAURA + What are my other choices? + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 66. + + RIGGAN + Aren't you scared at all? + + LAURA + About what? + + RIGGAN + About being humiliated out there. + + LAURA + It won't be the first time I've been + humiliated. + + RIGGAN + I bet it won't. + + Laura looks at him with fire in her eyes. + + LAURA + You're an asshole. + She charges to the door and is about to leave when she turns + back to Riggan... + + LAURA (CONT'D) + By the way... I'm not pregnant. So there's + one thing you don't have to worry about. + + She leaves, slamming the door behind her. + + Riggan remains still. Mike seems to be smirking at him right + through the cover of the Arts section... + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + That pretentious, little, theater fuck is + stealing your thunder. + + Riggan charges out of the room and into... + +31 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 31 + + ...the hallway. He walks to Mike's dressing room, finds the + door half opened and enters... + + +32 INT. MIKE'S DRESSING ROOM - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 32 + + ...discovering Mike lying in a sun bed. His arm is sticking + out of it, holding on to a copy of Borges's 'Labyrinths'. + + Riggan yanks the sun bed open. Mike is asleep, wearing tiny + sun goggles. Riggan slams the lid down on him. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 67. + + MIKE + What the fuck is going on! + + RIGGAN + Get up! + + MIKE + Back away. + + RIGGAN + Get up. +Riggan slaps Mike on the arm. + + MIKE + Ow, fuck that hurts! + + RIGGAN + So, Carver is the reason you became an + actor? + MIKE + What? + + RIGGAN + This is my play! I did the work. I raised the + money. I arrange the press. + + MIKE + They called me for an interview. I said-- I + don't know, I said the first thing that + came to mind. Jesus, we got the cover of + the Arts section! + + RIGGAN + You said the first-- Fuck the Arts section. + The first thing that came to mind? Right. + Cause that's you. Mr. Natural. Mr. Fuck the + scene, just stare at my massive hard-on. + Because that's the truth of the moment. + MIKE + You think it looked massive? + + RIGGAN + Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You don't get + hard on my stage unless I tell you to. + + MIKE + Your stage? This stage belonged to a lot of + great actor's, pal. But you are not one of + them. + +Mike storms out of the room. Riggan follows him into... + 10/29/14 / 68. + +33 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 33 + + ...the hallway. He slaps Mike on his sun burned back. + + RIGGAN + So, you wrote your own lines? + + He slaps him again. + + MIKE + Ow. Fuck. Yes I did. + + RIGGAN + You changed a few words, and mumbled a + little, you self absorbed prick. + + MIKE + Look who's talking... + + RIGGAN + Let me tell you something, you spiteful + nobody piece of shit. + MIKE + Nobody? My hard-on has already fifty + thousand views on youtube. + + RIGGAN + Fifty thousand views? A cat playing with + a dildo has more than that. + + MIKE + I don't care. + + RIGGAN + Yes you do. + (Beat.) + Everybody says: "Mike is so honest". (Smacks + him.) "So truthful". (Smacks him again.) + + MIKE + (Like a child.) + Ouch. Fuuuuuck. Cut the shit! + Riggan corners Mike against the wall. + + RIGGAN + You said in the interview that your father + was a drunk, like Carver. Is that true + Mike? Is it really true? + + Riggan stares intensely into Mike's eyes. Mike looks away. + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 69. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Because my father was. My father was a mean + fucking drunk. Beat the shit out of us. But + we were okay with the beatings. You know + why? Because at least when he was beating + us, he wasn't thinking about taking us out + to his tool shed... + +Mike's expression changes. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + That sonofabitch would smile and say, "Do + you want to kneel down and unbuckle my + belt? Or do you want me to take it off and + use it?" I learned how to make myself numb. + But my sister-- (Holding back tears.) My + little sister... + +Riggan can't go on. Mike is horrified. + + MIKE + Jesus, Riggan. I'm really sorry. I + didn't-- That's fucking horrible... + + RIGGAN + (Crazy smile.) + Yeah. It's also not true. See? (Cracking + up.) I can pretend too, you little dick! + +Riggan shoves Mike violently. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Don't fuck with me, Mike. + + MIKE + You're crazy... + + RIGGAN + You have no idea what I'm capable of. You + understand me? +Riggan pulls the paper out of his back pocket. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Working with Riggan Thomson is like + waltzing with a monkey? + +He smacks Mike in the head with the paper and begins to jump in +front of him, ready to fight. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Let's go. Put your hands up. + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 70. + + MIKE + (Tauntingly.) + Don't you want to go put on your tights and + your-- + + Riggan punches him on the face. Mike needs a few seconds to + understand what has just happened. Then they begin to wrestle + in the hallway. Mike breaks free from the headlock. + + MIKE (CONT'D) + What are you gonna do? You gonna get rid of + me? Huh? What do you think my friend + Tabitha is going to write in the Times + after you get rid of me? + + Riggan stares at Mike, paralyzed by the truth. Finally, he + turns and marches to his dressing room, and we follow him... + +34 INT. RIGGAN'S DRESSING ROOM - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 34 + + ...Riggan slams the door shut and paces in a rage. He glares at + a make-up box on the table and, points his finger at it, and + sends it flying across the room. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + You are lame, Riggan. Rolling around + with that third rate actor in an 800 + seat shithole like this. + + RIGGAN + (Whispering.) + Breathing in, I feel my rage. Breathing + out, I embrace my mental formations. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + You're going to let that poncey theater + fuck threaten you? + + Riggan continues breathing deeply with his eyes tightly closed. + He smiles a tiny artificial smile. + + RIGGAN + (Whispering.) + Breathing in, I am calm. Breathing out, + I ignore my mental formations. This is a + mental formation. This is a mental form-- + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + Stop that shit. I am not a mental + formation. I am "you", asshole. + + Riggan looks down at the poster on the floor. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 71. + + RIGGAN + (Whispering.) + Leave me alone. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + You were a movie star, remember? + Pretentious, but happy... + +Riggan opens his eyes, slowly. A sad expression on his face. + + RIGGAN + I was not happy. + + BIRDMAN + ...Ignorant but charming. Now you are a + tiny bitter cocksucker. + + RIGGAN + Shut up! Stop whining! I was miserable! + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + Yeah. But fake miserable. Hollywood + miserable. + +Riggan points his fingers at a lamp and sends it flying. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + What are you trying to prove? Huh? That + you're an artist? You're not. + + RIGGAN + Fuck you! + +Riggan points his fingers at a chair and sends it flying. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + Fuck you, coward! And fuck those critics + that made you quit. Our franchise + grossed billions worldwi-- + + RIGGAN + And billions of flies eat shit everyday! + So what? Does that make it good? (Beat.) + And I don't know if you've noticed, but + that was 1992! Look at me! (He takes off + his shirt.) This is what's left! + (Grabbing his neck.) This! (Grabbing his + chest.) This! (Totally exploding.) I'm + fucking disappearing! I'm the answer to a + fucking trivial pursuit question. + +Riggan sits down, exhausted. + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 72. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + What part of that don't you get? You're + fucking dead. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + We are not dead. We're-- + + RIGGAN + Stop saying 'we'! There is no 'we'. I am + not you. I'm Riggan fucking Thomson. + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + No. You're Birdman. Because without me, all + that's left is "you". A sad, selfish, + mediocre actor, grasping-- + + Riggan points his finger and sends the poster flying, spearing + it on a coat rack, piercing Birdman right through the heart. + Finally, silence. Until... + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + What the hell did you do that for? I liked + that poster. + + A confused Riggan looks over to the wall, where the lamp on the + floor is creating a shadow of his figure. Only in the shadow, it + appears as if Riggan is wearing the Birdman costume. Stunned, + Riggan slowly lifts one arm and in the shadow we see a wing. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + It's always 'we' brother. + + The television turns on by itself, playing an episode of the + original Birdman cartoon. Riggan points his fingers at the tv + and sends it hurling at the shadow. Then he proceeds to + destroy everything in his room with his telekinetic powers. + + We slowly pan to see that, behind Riggan, Jake stands on the + other side of the half-opened door. We push in on Jake, + watching in shock. The camera turns and becomes Jake's POV... + +35 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 35 + + ...and now, from his view, we see Riggan yelling at the shadow. + + RIGGAN + Fuck you! Fuck you! + + He picks up a chair and throws it down. He then picks up the + newspaper from the floor and tossing it all around. And now we + understand that he is not using telepathy. He has been using + only his hands. Completely mad. As Riggan turns to pick up + something else, he spots Jake on the other side of the door. He + immediately calms himself and walks over. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 73. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + What's up? + + JAKE + Um... Well. Two hours to curtain. Why don't + you rest a little bit? + + RIGGAN + Yeah. Sure. + + JAKE + Last preview, buddy. We're almost there. + + RIGGAN + Okay. + + JAKE + How ya doin? + + RIGGAN + Good. Great. + JAKE + Good. That's good. + (A beat.) + The, uh, money came through. I just have to + transfer it to the account. + + RIGGAN + Oh, that's terrific... + + JAKE + Okay. Well, I'm gonna do that. + (He stares at Riggan who + seems about to collapse.) + You know I'm proud of you, right? This took + balls. And you did it. + +Riggan nods. An exhausted sadness in his eyes. + + RIGGAN + I can't do this anymore, Jake. + + JAKE + What? + + RIGGAN + I think I'm gonna cancel the + preview. I'm exhausted. + + JAKE + It's a joke, right? (He forces a + laugh.) Good one, Riggan. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 74. + + RIGGAN + I'm starting to believe that this is not + for me. The applause is... lukewarm. I + think they're laughing at me. + + JAKE + What are you--? Listen. There's a three + block line of people waiting to see you. + We are sold out. It's a full house. + + RIGGAN + Really? + + JAKE + Yes. And the French embassador is + coming. And the prince of Saudi Arabia, + with one of his wives. And... I wasn't + going to tell you this, but-- Martin + Scorsese. He's casting for his new + film. But don't tell anyone, okay? This + is between you and me. + RIGGAN + Okay. I'll be ready. + +Riggan smiles. He has forgotten about his existential doubts. +A worried Jake closes the door. He walks a few steps and +finds Laura and Lesley. They've been listening to his +conversation with Riggan. + + LESLEY + How is he? + + JAKE + He'll be okay. + + LESLEY + Poor creature. + + LAURA + Is it true? Scorsese? + JAKE + Yes. And the new Pope too. + (Beat.) + +They both understand. + + LAURA + You're an asshole, Jake. + + JAKE + I'm the one keeping this boat afloat. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 75. + + LESLEY + So there is no line of people out there? + + JAKE + I don't know. Now go and get ready. + That's your job. + (He begins to walk.) + I'll better invest in a taco truck, or + a strip joint near the airport. + +Laura leaves. We follow Lesley up to Riggan's dressing room. +She knocks on the door. Nothing. Silence. She half-opens the +door and, from behind her, we see Riggan examining his right +hand. He has blood falling from the palm to the wrist. + + LESLEY + Are you okay? + + RIGGAN + (Smiles.) + Yeah, I-- This is nothing. Shaving. +He cleans his hand against his trousers. + + LESLEY + I just want to say I'm sorry. + + RIGGAN + For what? + + LESLEY + I knew what Mike was capable of, + and I brought him in, anyway. + + RIGGAN + You did good. + +Lesley nods. A beat. + + LESLEY + Tomorrow's my first opening night + on Broadway. + + RIGGAN + Mine too. + + LESLEY + And I want you to know that, + whatever happens, I'll always be + grateful to you for that. + + RIGGAN + Me too. It's going to be great. Full + house. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 76. + + She looks at him with tender eyes. Then we follow her along + the corridor until she passes by Mike's dressing room. Mike + half-opens the door and sees Lesley walking by. He has a + black eye. He waits for Lesley to be completely gone, and + then he comes out of his dressing room and we follow him up + the stairs to... + +38 EXT. ROOFTOP - THEATER - DUSK 38 + ...the rooftop. He finds Sam standing on the cornice, looking + at the street. + + MIKE + For fuck's sake, just jump already. + + Sam stares out, a smile creeping over her face. + SAM + How did you know I'd be up here? + + MIKE + I didn't. I was just hoping. + + Silence. Mike walks up next to her and stares out as well. + + SAM + Where's Lesley? + + MIKE + Moving on. + + SAM + Smart girl... + + MIKE + I appreciate that. + A beat. + + SAM + Ready for the last preview? + (Noticing his black eye.) + Who did that to you? + + Mike smiles. No answer. + + SAM (CONT'D) + Could have been anybody, I guess. + (After a beat.) + I'm sort of hoping it was Lesley. + He barely says no, smiling, and lights a cigarette. She + understands. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 77. + + SAM (CONT'D) + Oh, don't tell me... + +Silence. + + MIKE + What's the worst thing he ever did to + you? + +Sam is surprised by the question. She thinks for a moment. + SAM + He was never around, so... + + MIKE + That was--? + + SAM + No. That was-- Who gives a shit. It + was the way he tried to make up for + it by constantly trying to convince + me I was special. (A beat.) What + about you? + + MIKE + My dad? + + SAM + Yeah. + + MIKE + He pretended I was his son. + +She stares him down. Silence. + + SAM + So, what happens now? + + MIKE + I have no idea... + SAM + Yeah... + +A beat. + + MIKE + He was right, though. + + SAM + About what? + + MIKE + About your being special. You're hanging + around here trying to make yourself + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 78. + MIKE (CONT'D) + invisible behind that fragile little fuck + up routine. But you can't. You're + anything but invisible. You're big. And + you're sort of this really great mess, a + candle burning at both ends, and no + amount of booze or pills is gonna hide + that. + + Sam tosses Mike's cigarette over the balcony, and kisses him. + He leans into the kiss. + MAN'S VOICE + (From below.) + Jesus Fuck! + + She suddenly pulls away. + + SAM + It's a good thing you're an actor and not a + writer cause that little speech was just + like, Oprah... Hallmark... R. Kelly bad. + She kisses him lightly one more time and then walks away. When + she gets to the door she stops and leans on the frame. + + SAM (CONT'D) + Truth or dare? + + MIKE + Truth. + + SAM + No. + + MIKE + Truth. + + SAM + No. Truth or dare? + + The slightest smile as she exits through the door, and after a + short pause, Mike follows... + +39 INT. HALLWAYS - THEATRE - CONTINUOUS 39 + + ...along a darkened hallway. They reach a tiny wooden door and + Sam leads the way through it. + + MIKE + Do you have any idea where you're going? + + SAM + Absolutely not. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 79. + + She continues on until she gets to... + + +40 INT. ABOVE STAGE - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 40 + + ...the "grid" above stage where the lights are located. We can + see, below us, the empty seats of the auditorium and the + kitchen set. + + MIKE + What now...? + + Mike reaches up to kiss her. She stops him. + + SAM + How do you do it? + MIKE + What? + + SAM + How do you go out there and pretend to be + someone else in front of all those people? + + MIKE + I don't pretend. Not out there. Just about + every place else, but never out there. + + SAM + Good to know. + + They stare at one another... + + MIKE + What are we doing here? + + SAM + What do you mean? + + MIKE + I mean, what are we doing here? + + She moves in. + + SAM + Adrenaline... + They kiss. The camera begins to drift down toward the stage... + + RIGGAN (O.S.) + Fucking teenager. + + As the camera continues down from the grid, we discover an + auditorium full of people staring at the actors on stage. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 80. + + RIGGAN (O.S) (CONT'D) + By the time I got to the hospital, the + kid was dead. He was off in a corner + laid out on a gurney. We took the old + couple up to the O.R.. They were a + mess. We worked like hell on them for + most of the night... + +We pan along the auditorium back to the stage to find Riggan, +Mike, Lesley and Laura in the kitchen. + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + When we were done, we wrapped them in + full body casts. The husband was + depressed. Even when I told him his + wife was gonna pull through, he was + still depressed. So, I got up to his + mouth hole and asked him, and he told + me it was because he couldn't see her + through the eye holes. Can you imagine? + I'm telling you, the man's heart was + breaking because he couldn't turn his + goddamn head and see his goddamn wife. + + LESLEY + (In genuine tears.) + That's terrible. (Beat.) Perfect. + And terrible. + +She is crushed. Laura holds Lesley, trying to control her own +emotion. + + RIGGAN + (Taking this in.) + Yeah. So I guess what we have to + ask ourselves is... What do we talk + about when we talk about love? + +The lights go to a blackout and the audience applauds as some +scene change music plays. As we follow Riggan off stage, the +lights are turned on again, but now they have an orange mood. +Lesley is the only one on stage, doing a monologue. + + LESLEY + Mel and I have been together five + years, been married for four. But + it was Ed who taught me something + no one else could... He taught me + what it felt like to really feel + loved. And the terrible thing is + that if something happened to Mel + or myself, if something happened to + either one of us tomorrow, I think + the other one would grieve for a + while, you know, but then would go + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 81. + LESLEY (CONT'D) + out and love again, have someone + else soon enough. All this-- All of + this love we're talking about... it + would just be a memory. Maybe not + even a memory. Am I wrong? I mean, + I don't know anything. And I'm the + first one to admit it. + +A Dresser waits in the wings to help Riggan with his change. + + DRESSER + That was amazing! + +Riggan looks proud. Things are finally going well. He undresses +to his underwear and puts on a robe and his moccasins, as the +stage begins to revolve. Laura, in costume, walks up beside +him. Over the following dialogue, the kitchen gives way to the +extravagant garden set we saw before. + + LAURA + (A bit distant.) + It's actually going well. + + RIGGAN + Yeah. (A beat.) Hey. I think we have to + talk. + + LAURA + (Sad smile.) + No. We don't. + +Riggan nods. + + RIGGAN + Right. (Beat.) We will eventually, + though, `cause that's the only way I get + to say I'm sorry. I really am. + +Silence. + + LAURA + We could've made good parents. + + RIGGAN + Horrible. We would've been just-- + + LAURA + Awful. Would have raised, like... + + RIGGAN + ...a serial killer... + + LAURA + ...or Justin Bieber. + (She smiles at him.) + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 82. + LAURA (CONT'D) + I'm not really the housewife type anyway. I + thought I could be a mom. My body seems to + disagree. + + The lights come up and Laura walks onto the stage. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + (Back to him.) + You were right. This was fun. + Riggan watches her go, but something else grabs his attention. + We pan across the stage to see Sam and Mike on the other side. + They talk and laugh. Sam kisses Mike softly. Mike playfully + grabs her ass. + + We pan back to Riggan. His expression morphs from broken- + hearted to rage. He marches over to a stage hand. + RIGGAN + You have a cigarette? + + The stage hand holds out a pack, Riggan takes one. + + STAGE HAND + You need a light? + + Riggan snatches the lighter and storms out through the hallway, + and out the back door of the theater to... + +41 EXT. AN ALLEY WAY - OUTSIDE THE THEATER - CONTINUOUS 41 + + ...the alley. Down at the end, we can see the tourists making + their way about the streets. Riggan lights the cigarette and + leans back against the stage door trying to calm himself. + + RIGGAN + Breathing in, I calm myself. Breathing out, + I ease myself. + + But this is New York City. A fluorescent light buzzes above his + head. Taxis honk their horns. The sound of pedestrians yelling + at one another. All fueling his agitation. + Riggan checks his watch. He pulls one last drag from the + cigarette before he tosses it, and turns to head back in, only + to realize the door has locked. He tries to pull it open to no + avail. He begins to knock loudly on the door. There is no + response. He knocks louder. Nothing. + + He is turning to walk away when he realizes that his robe is + caught in the door. He checks his watch again and now is + beginning to panic. He tries to tear at the robe but the terry + cloth is too strong for him to rip. Frantically, he looks around + for an answer. No answer. No time. He pulls the robe off of him + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 83. + + and, wearing only his underwear and moccasins, he charges down + the alley way toward... + +42 EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS 42 + + ...the street. Now, rushing down the block in his underwear. A + tourist spots him. + + TOURIST + Hey, aren't you...? + + RIGGAN + I'm sorry. I can't really-- + + TOURIST + Riggan Thompson! Holy Shit! Let me get an + autograph. + + Riggan marches on as a few more people begin to notice. The + Tourist runs in front of him, forcing him to stop. + + TOURIST (CONT'D) + Come on, man. Don't be a dick. Let me have + an autograph. + + The man produces a pen and a magazine from his pocket. More + people begin to gather... + + MAN ON STREET + Birdman! + + Seeing no other way out, Riggan signs the autograph. + + TOURIST + Dude! You fuckin' rock! + + Directly in front of him stand a lady and her two kids. + + LADY + Can we take one picture? + + RIGGAN + Are you kidding me? + + KID #1 + Why is he naked? + LADY + One picture... + + KID #2 + I can see his weenie. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 84. + + Riggan tries to get past them, but a crowd has formed. A swarm + of cell phones begin to glow like fireflies. + + LADY + (To her kids.) + Get next to him! + + RIGGAN + Give me a fucking break, lady. + + The kids run up next to him. Even more people crowding around. + Riggan puts up his middle finger, just as the Lady takes the + shot. He shoves the kids aside and moves on. + + WOMAN ON STREET + He looks so old in person. + + MAN ON STREET + (From across the street.) + You suck! + RIGGAN + Fuck you! + + Riggan pushes through the crowd to get to the lobby. The people + begin to chant. Dozens of cell phones recording him. + + CROWD + Bird-man! Bird-man! Bird-man! + + Riggan pushes his way through to the lobby doors... + +43 INT. LOBBY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 43 + + ...to be stopped by the vision of Ralph in a wheelchair. His + head wrapped in a bandage. A man in a suit next to him. + + RIGGAN + Jesus Christ! What're you doing here? + + RALPH + Waiting for Jake. This is Mr. Roth, my + attorney. + + Riggan continues walking toward the auditorium. Ralph and Mr. + Roth follow him. + + MR. ROTH + We're pursuing financial remuneration for the + injuries Mr. Pinkus suffered while rehearsing + your-- + + RIGGAN + I have a play to do. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 85. + + RALPH + I'm going to ruin you! + + Riggan storms toward the auditorium, but is stopped by an old + Usher. + + OLD USHER + I'm sorry sir, you're going to have-- + + Riggan shoves the old lady aside and enters... + +44 INT. AUDITORIUM - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 44 + + ...the theater. Riggan stands in the back among the audience. + He sees the "rain" falling on the stage. The "Motel" sign is + lit. Mike and Lesley are in bed, for the motel scene, waiting + for the knock on the door. With nothing else to do, Riggan + yells his line from the back of the auditorium... + + RIGGAN + Knock knock knock! Terri! Terri! + + The audience turns to see Riggan standing in his underwear. + They begin to murmur and laugh and point at him. + Riggan marches down the aisle. He looks haggard and covered + with perspiration. + + Lesley and Mike, confused, come out of bed. + + LESLEY + Ed! What are you doing here? + + RIGGAN + Why? I need you to tell me why. I lived for + you-- I worshipped you... + + MIKE + Listen Ed, I know this is hard but-- + + RIGGAN + Fuck you. Shut up. Fuck you. + + Giggles from the audience. Riggan turns threateningly and points + to an audience member on the aisle who is giggling at him. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Shut up! + + The guy stops smiling. The audience goes silent. Riggan arrives + at the apron of the stage. Annie from the wings slides the gun + towards him. Riggan grabs it and points it at Mike. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 86. + + LESLEY + Eddie! Please! + + Riggan climbs onto the stage. Exhausted. He goes to Mike and, + with a last effort, pushes him lamely. + + RIGGAN + What's wrong with me? Why do I end + up having to beg people to love me? + + LESLEY + Ed. Eddie. Please... Give me the gun. + + We pan to the wings where Jake is staring in disbelief. His + cellphone begins to vibrate, and he answers. + + JAKE + Yeah. (A beat.) What?... No no no no no no + no. Wait there. I'm coming out in-- + + He walks toward the hallway and we follow him... + +45 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 45 + + ...through the corridor. + + JAKE + No. Wait. Wait for me. I'll be there in a + second. (Beat.) What is that, a threat? + (Beat.) What wheelchair? (Beat.) Wait. + Don't hang up. Mr. Roth, we can discuss-- + Hello?... Hello?... + + He goes out one of the exits and we are left with the silence of + the empty hallway. After a few seconds, the sound of the gunshot + from the scene echoes through the theater. The audience + applauds. The camera starts to move forward. A few seconds later + Riggan takes over the POV with his bloody long wig and the fake + gun. We follow up to... + +46 INT. RIGGAN'S DRESSING ROOM - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 46 + + ...his dressing room. He puts on a robe. He walks to his + refrigerator without acknowledging Sam who is sitting on the + couch, scribbling her dashes on the toilet paper once again. + Riggan takes out a plastic container of bologna and a jar of + mustard. He sits in front of his dressing table, peels open the + bologna and opens the jar of mustard. Slice by slice, he dips + the bologna in the mustard and shoves it into his mouth. + + SAM + Dad...? + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 87. + + RIGGAN + (Looking up.) + Hey. How ya doin'? + + SAM + Are you okay? + + RIGGAN + Why? + + SAM + I don't know. You seem-- + + RIGGAN + (Eating.) + I'm good. This is good. + (Holding out a piece.) + You want some? + + SAM + I'm good. + RIGGAN + Great. Great. + +He continues to eat. She tries to fill the odd silence. + + SAM + So. Opening night, tomorrow. + + RIGGAN + Yeah. + + SAM + That's exciting, huh? + + RIGGAN + Yeah. Well... I don't know. The previews + have been a train wreck. We haven't been + able to get through a performance + without a raging fire... or a raging + hard-on. I'm not really sleeping, you + know, at all. And I'm pretty much broke. + Oh, and also, this play feels like a + miniature, deformed version of myself + that keeps following me around, hitting + me in the balls with a tiny hammer. + (Beat.) + Sorry, what was your question? + + SAM + (Looking through phone.) + Never mind... Tonight wasn't bad. It was + weird. But that's sort of cool. People + seemed to like it. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 88. + +Silence. Riggan notices the toilet paper. + + RIGGAN + What are you doing? Some homework? + + SAM + No. I don't-- When I was in rehab, they + made us do this. + + RIGGAN + Really... + SAM + Yeah. These dashes, represent the six + billion years the planet has existed. + Each dash represents 100 years. + +She unravels the roll and we see that there are thousands of +black marks running along the toilet paper. She takes the last +two panels and tears them off. + SAM (CONT'D) + And this... (Hands them to him.) ...is + supposed to represent the entire time us + humans have been here. One hundred and + fifty thousand years. That's it. + (Beat.) + I guess they were trying to remind us + that that's what all our egos and self- + obsession are worth. + +Riggan stares at the paper, and then at Sam. + + RIGGAN + (Casually.) + I was a shitty father, wasn't I? + + SAM + No. You were a-- (She stops herself.) + You were fine. +He stops chewing and stares out. + + RIGGAN + Fine... You're right. I am just + "fine". Adorably mediocre. + +He smiles to her sadly, and then he wipes the mustard from his +face with the piece of toilet paper. + + SAM + Dad! + + RIGGAN + What? + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 89. + +Sam looks at the ruined toilet paper in his hands. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Oh... Shit. I'm sorry. + + SAM + (Smiling.) + It's okay. You just destroyed the entire + human race in one blow. + +Riggan looks at her with the saddest of expressions. + SAM (CONT'D) + Dad. (She hesitates.) Do you know + you're becoming a trending topic? + + RIGGAN + Really? What does that mean? + +Sam searches for something on her iPhone and then hands it to +Riggan. Riggan looks at the phone and sees a hand-held video of +himself in the streets in his underwear. + + SAM + 350,000 views in less than an hour. + Believe it or not, this is power. + +Riggan looks at more footage, seemingly confused. After a +moment, the phone vibrates and the video is interrupted by a +text message, which reads "Truth or Dare?" + + RIGGAN + It's for you. + +She grabs the phone and looks at the screen. Then at her +father. Riggan is staring at her. She looks down. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Go ahead... + + SAM + (Hesitant.) + Are you...? + + RIGGAN + Go. + +A sympathetic smile. An understanding. Sam exits. + +Riggan stares into the mirror absently. His eyes locked on +his reflection trying to find himself in the image. Then he +spots a vase with dying roses, the same roses he flung to the +ground previously. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 90. + + He gets up and goes into the bathroom. He pulls off the long + wig and the mustache. He washes his face. Then he opens a + small bottle and uses the liquid to scrub his goatee. The + dark dye begins to run out, leaving only white hair. For the + first time we see that Riggan has a white beard. + + He puts on new clothes and comes out of the bathroom. He grabs + a beige raincoat and heads out of the dressing room and + into... + +47 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 47 + + ...the hallway. As he passes by Mike's door he can hear Sam and + Mike. They're trying to be as quiet as possible, but we can hear + them flirting and laughing. + + He pauses for a moment but continues on. After a few seconds, + his phone vibrates. He looks at it. A text from Jake reads: + "Have you seen this??? Awesome!!!" He clicks the attachment and + sees the, now infamous, video of his underwear escapade in the + street. We zoom in until the image fills the screen, when we + finally pull away, we discover that... + +48 INT. RUM HOUSE - LATER 48 + ...Riggan's video is being played now in a television in the + bar. We see the MTV logo on the bottom of the screen and a video + caption that reads: "Birdman goes viral, 930.000 views and + counting". The camera pans to find Riggan sitting at the bar, + drunk. He is one of the few customers. He polishes off his + drink. + RIGGAN + Let me have another one. + + BARTENDER + You got it. + + The bartender pours another whiskey for Riggan. A waiter steps + up to the bar. The bartender points to a martini. + + BARTENDER (CONT'D) + (To the waiter.) + That's going over to Ms. Dickinson. + + Riggan's head tilts at the mention of the name. He looks over to + see Tabitha sitting at a table, scratching in her notebook. + + RIGGAN + (Hands the waiter a bill.) + I got it. She's a friend of mine. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 91. + +The waiter pockets the money and gives Riggan the drink. He +walks it over to Tabitha and places it down in front of her. Not +looking up, she pulls the drink closer and takes a sip. + +Riggan sits down across from her. She looks up and immediately +recognizes him. He takes out the Carver cocktail napkin and +pushes it in front of her. She looks at him, and then down to +the napkin. She reads it in silence. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + (Re: The napkin.) + That was twenty years before I put on that + damned costume. + +A pause. Then she pushes the napkin back toward him. + + TABITHA + I don't care. + + RIGGAN + I'm just saying, when you come tomorrow + night, I want you-- + + TABITHA + It doesn't matter. + + RIGGAN + What are you-- + + TABITHA + I'm going to destroy your play. + + RIGGAN + You haven't even seen it. I don't-- Did I + do something to offend you? + + TABITHA + As a matter of fact you did. You took up + space in a theater which otherwise might + have been used on something worthwhile. + RIGGAN + But you don't even know if it's-- + + TABITHA + That's true. I haven't read a word of it, + or even seen a preview, but after the + opening tomorrow I'm going to turn in the + worst review anybody has ever read. And I'm + going to close your play. Would you like to + know why? Because I hate you. And everyone + you represent. Entitled. Spoiled. Selfish. + Children. Blissfully untrained, unversed + and unprepared to even attempt real art. + Handing each other awards for cartoons and + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 92. + TABITHA (CONT'D) + pornography. Measuring your worth in + weekends. Well, this is the theater, and + you don't get to come in here and pretend + you can write, direct and act in your own + propaganda piece without going through me + first. So, break a leg. + +Tabitha goes back to her writing. Riggan sits for a moment. + + RIGGAN + What has to happen in someone's life, + for them to end up becoming a critic? + +She looks up at him. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Whatcha writin'? You reviewin' a play? Was + it good? Bad? Did you even see it? Lemme + read. + +He snatches the notebook from her. + TABITHA + I will call the police. + + RIGGAN + No you won't. Let's read your review! + (He scans the notebook.) + "Callow". A label. "Lackluster". Label. + "Marginalia". Sounds like you need + penicillin to clear that up. None the + less... label. + (Looks to Tabitha.) + All labels. You're a lazy fucker + aren't you? + (Looks one last time at + the notebook.) + Epistemological vertigo? + +Tabitha wants to reach for the notebook, but her pride won't +let her. Riggan takes a flower from a vase at the center of the +table. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + You know what this is? You don't, do + you? You can't even see it if you don't + label it. You mistake those sounds in + your head for true knowledge. + + TABITHA + Are you finished? + + RIGGAN + (Wrinkling one of the pages.) + Nothin' about intention, structure, + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 93. + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + technique. Just crappy opinions backed + up by crappy comparisons. You're + incapable of writing more than a couple + of paragraphs, and you risk nothing of + yourself. + (He tears out the page and tosses + the notebook.) + Well, I'm an actor and this play has + cost me everything. So you can take + your cowardly, malicious, shittily + written reviews and shove them up + your... (Showing her the wrinkled + page.) ...wrinkly, tight ass. + +Riggan wears a proud smile. And suddenly, Tabitha begins to +smile with him. + + TABITHA + You think you're an actor? + (Calls to the waiter.) + Eddie! +Eddie the waiter approaches the table. + + WAITER + Yeah, Mrs. Dickinson? + + TABITHA + Give us some Shakespeare. + + WAITER + No problem. Got anything in mind? + +Tabitha looks over at Riggan picking the perfect verse. + + TABITHA + The Scottish Play. Act five... + + WAITER + Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, + Creeps in this petty pace from day to + day, To the last syllable of recorded + time; And all our yesterdays have lighted + fools. The way to dusty death... + +He is brilliant. The monologue is perfectly played and powerful. +Riggan being mercilessly reminded of his mediocrity... by Eddie +the waiter. + + WAITER (CONT'D) + ...Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a + walking shadow, a poor player, That + struts and frets his hour upon the + stage, And then is heard no more. It is + (MORE) + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 94. + WAITER (CONT'D) + a tale told by an idiot, full of sound + and fury... Signifying nothing. + + A few drunks clap at the beautiful performance. Then, a powerful + silence rings out for a moment, until... + + TABITHA + Thank you, Eddie. + + WAITER + You got it. + TABITHA + (To Riggan. A derisive laugh.) + You're no actor. You're a celebrity. + Let's be clear on that. + + Tabitha rises from her seat and grabs her things. + + TABITHA (CONT'D) + I'm going to kill your play. + She walks away. Riggan sits numb. After a moment, he reaches + over and gulps down Tabitha's entire martini, gin pouring out + the sides of his mouth. Unaware, he slams the empty martini + glass on top of the Carver napkin and gets up. We follow him + out onto... + +49 EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS 49 + + ...the street, where he walks through the theater district. + Tired. Drunk. Empty. Neon lights all around him. A crazy, old + homeless man passes by in the opposite direction shouting + furiously. Riggan keeps walking until he arrives at a bench, + with a tree behind. Everything is quiet. Riggan sits on the + bench, lost. We begin to tilt up, slowly, toward a tall tree. + We move closer into the branches and the green leaves. + Silence. + +A49 A49 + Night turns into day. The sounds of the city disappear and + birds begin to sing. The branches now caressed by golden shafts + of morning sun. Finally, we tilt down slowly and find... + + +50 EXT. STREET - DAY. 50 + + ...Riggan still sleeping on the bench. He looks like a bum. His + raincoat is dirty and wet. + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 95. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + God. You look like shit, brother. You + get that mongoloid look when you're hung + over, don't you? + + Riggan opens an eye. He scratches his hair. + + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + Let's go. Get up. It's a beautiful day. + + Riggan sits up slowly. He is really hung over. + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + Stand up! Forget about the times. Everyone + else has. So you're not a great actor... + Who cares?!! You're much more than that. + Fuck! You tower over all these theater + douchebags. You're a movie star! A Global + force! Don't you get it? + + Riggan stands up and begins to stumble forward. We pan around + to find Birdman (a stronger Riggan wearing a cool Birdman + outfit), following behind him. + + BIRDMAN + You spent your whole life building a + reputation and a bank account, and now + they're both blown. So what? Fuck it. We + make a come back. Something huge. Take what + belongs to us. Take back the spotlight. + Magazine covers and billboards. Happy meals + with Birdman dolls. Remember that? That's + who you are. That's who we are! + + Riggan just marches on. People and cars pass by, but nobody + notices Birdman. Riggan tries to ignore him. + + BIRDMAN (CONT'D) + C'mon, buddy. Tell me we're going back + to the big leagues. Let's do this. + Shave off that pathetic goatee, and put + the mask back on! Batman my balls. + We'll start a new franchise. Birdman: + Phoenix Rising. Trust me! A billion + world wide. Swear to God. + +A50 A50 + + Riggan keeps walking. Birdman, insistent, chases, until + suddenly he begins to flutter off the ground. + + BIRDMAN + Do you hear me? You can do anything! You're + an icon! + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 96. + + Desperate, Birdman flies a bit higher around him. + + BIRDMAN (CONT'D) + You're bigger than life. You save people + from their boring, miserable lives... + + The camera pans to the street in front of them. People carry + out their everyday routines. There is a deli, a souvenir shop, + a small bank... + + BIRDMAN (O.S.) (CONT'D) + ...You make them jump, laugh, cry, + shit their pants... All you have to do + is snap your fingers and... + +B50 B50 + Riggan snaps his fingers, once, twice, and the bank suddenly + explodes. The sound is so loud that it seems to belong to + another movie. The earth shakes. People run. Dust all over. + Fire. An unsteady camera pans back to Birdman. + + BIRDMAN + (Excited.) + That's what I'm talking about! That is + cool! Explosive! Big, fast, loud! + (He turns directly to the camera + and talks about the audience.) + Look at them. They love that shit! + They starve for blood and action, + not this artsy-fartsy-philosophical + bullshit! + +C50 C50 + We hear a loud roar, and the camera pans to discover a huge + alien about to crash a cab against the asphalt. Birdman uses his + powerful blow to send the alien flying away. + + BIRDMAN + And when you shout "whooaa!"... + (Riggan shouts "Whooaa!") + ...it explodes in the eardrum of + millions. Your power is unlimited. + + Riggan slows down his pace, as he starts to listen. + + BIRDMAN (CONT'D) + You glimmered on 3000 screens, over 5 + continents, in 47 countries at the + same time. You are ubiquitous. You're + a God! You can do it again. You can + soar above all of them. + 10/29/14 / 97. + +D50 D50 + + Riggan suddenly begins to levitate. + + BIRDMAN + There you go, you mother fucker! See? + Gravity doesn't even apply to you. + + The camera flies up with Riggan as he floats above the street. + There is something magical in his ascension, gently impelled by + the breeze. A beautiful backlight makes his body glow. Birdman + flutters around him. + BIRDMAN (CONT'D) + Listen to me. We gotta go back! We have to + do this. We have to end it on our terms. + With a grand gesture. + + A strange light suddenly palpitates in Riggan's eyes. Something + makes sense in what Birdman is telling him. + + The camera becomes Riggan's POV. He looks down to see the + people on the street, watching him in awe. + BIRDMAN (O.S.) (CONT'D) + We'll go back. We'll show them how much + they're going to miss us. Flames. Icarus. + Sacrifice... + + We tilt up again to Riggan's face. He has a plan. + + BIRDMAN (O.S.) (CONT'D) + Let's go back one more time and show them + what we're capable of. You can do it. + You're Birdman. Do you hear me? You're... + + A GUY'S VOICE (O.S.) + Birdman! + +E50 E50 + + And as the camera pulls away, we discover Birdman is gone and + Riggan is standing on the ledge of a tall building. The camera + tilts down and we see that more people have gathered around, + and more cars has stopped, and they all point at Riggan, + worried about the situation. + + A guy wearing shorts, a Bob Marley t-shirt and a robe opens his + window, one floor below Riggan, and looks up at him. + + GUY + Dude, what are you doing? + + Riggan looks down at the people on the street far below. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 98. + + GUY (CONT'D) + You okay, buddy? Do you want me to + call someone? + +We pan to a lady on her balcony filming Riggan with her phone. + + LADY + Is this for real, or you're shooting a + film? + + RIGGAN + A film. + +The lady looks around but sees nothing. + + LADY + Oh, you people are full of shit. + +She goes into her apartment. + + GUY + I'm calling 911. + +The guy goes inside his apartment. + + RIGGAN + One more time... + +Now, from the door of the rooftop, a good neighbor calmly +approaches Riggan. + + GOOD NEIGHBOR + Hi, sir. Can I help you? You should be + careful. + + RIGGAN + Sorry. Can't talk. I'm late. + (Murmuring.) + Music. + +Some underscoring music begins to sound. The neighbor is now +close to him and helps Riggan step down from the edge on to the +floor of the rooftop. + + GOOD NEIGHBOR + Are you alright? Do you want me to + call someone? Do you know where to go? + +Riggan closes his eyes for a moment as the camera moves slowly +toward him. He opens his eyes. The music begins to swell. Riggan +stands up straight and proud, and in a voice that sounds like +Birdman... + + RIGGAN + Yes. I know where to go. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 99. + + He turns and begins to run on the rooftop. The music is rousing. + As he runs, he holds out his arms, spreading them wide. The + camera runs behind him, until suddenly... + + +F50 F50 + Riggan jumps, and the camera jumps after him. He rapidly + falls toward the street, toward the asphalt. But in his face + there is no fear. No. He spreads his arms again and... + + +G50 G50 + + He takes flight, soaring high over Manhattan. The music becomes + epic. There is something beautiful about this broken man flying + like a superhero. We fly next to him, and we can see below the + spectacular sight that is Manhattan, until... + +51 EXT. THEATER - CONTINUOUS 51 + ...he finally lands on 45th street and calmly approaches the + theater. An Usher acknowledges him with a look of surprise. + + USHER + Mr. Thomson. I think you forgot to-- + + RIGGAN + Stop the music. + + The music stops. + USHER + I beg your pardon? + + Riggan enters the theater. + + The confused Usher watches him go by, as he points to the + street. We pan to see a taxi driver coming out of his car, + running like a mad man toward us. + + We stay with the Usher and the taxi driver as they argue. They + take it inside the lobby, but we remain out front. + +A51 A51 + + Day turns to night, igniting the lights of the marquee, which + reflect off of the lobby doors. We hear wild applause coming + from inside the theater. Seconds later, the doors of the + theater open and the audience files out for intermission. + + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 100. + + MAN + (Tweeting on his phone.) + It's really good. + + WOMAN + I know. I can't believe it... + + We begin to move up, outside the theater. We see the marquee of + the play that reads, "What We Talk When We Talk About Love". + Above the title, in smaller print, "Riggan Thomson and Mike + Shiner". Below on a banner, "Opening Night". + We keep climbing until we arrive at Riggan's dressing room + window. We push in to find... + +52 INT. RIGGAN'S DRESSING ROOM - THEATER - EVENING 52 + ... that the room is full of roses and cards. Riggan lies on + the sofa, hugging a cushion. He is wearing the long wig and + mustache for the motel scene. + + Sylvia appears in the doorway. + + SYLVIA + Wow, that is just NASCAR hot. + + He smiles at her. + SYLVIA (CONT'D) + I just wanted to come say hello. It's going + great out there. You're so good. I mean it. + You're-- I really mean it. + + RIGGAN + Come here. Sit next to me. + + ANNIE ON SPEAKERS + This is your five minutes. + SYLVIA + Do you need to--? + + RIGGAN + I'm fine. Sit. + + She does. + + SYLVIA + Look at all these roses. + + SYLVIA (CONT'D) RIGGAN + You hate roses... I hate roses... + + She laughs. He watches her, something odd in his expression. + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 101. + + SYLVIA (CONT'D) + Are you okay? You seem-- I don't know, you + seem abnormally calm. + + RIGGAN + I am calm. I'm great. I spent most of + the day observing how beautifully this + pile of dirty clothes was lit by the + warm afternoon sun. (A tiny smile.) So + beautiful. +Sylvia, teasing him, closes her eyes and imitates Riggan's +meditation posture. + + SYLVIA + (Mocking him.) + Oh yes. God is those purplish light + dots I see between my eyes and my + eyelids. + + RIGGAN + You know? I have this voice that talks to + me and tells me the truth. It's comforting, + and scary. + +A beat. + + SYLVIA + I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say + that. + + RIGGAN + Okay. + + SYLVIA + (Changing the subject.) + You wouldn't believe the crowd outside. + They said, some people paid up to 500 + dollars a ticket. + +He sits down. + RIGGAN + You wanna hear something funny? + + SYLVIA + Sure. + + RIGGAN + Do you remember our last anniversary party? + + SYLVIA + Seriously? You're going to ruin a nice + moment with that? + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 102. + + RIGGAN + Do you remember the party? + + SYLVIA + The party where you fucked Janet Rossbach + in our bed? Yeah, it rings a bell. + + RIGGAN + Yeah, well. Let's skip over that part + for a minute. + SYLVIA + Gladly. + + RIGGAN + After you threw the guests out of the + house, and the furniture out of the + window. You locked yourself in the + bathroom. + + SYLVIA + I remember. Why are we-- + + RIGGAN + I drove down to Malibu. I sat on the beach + for a while. Just... staring out at the + ocean. + + SYLVIA + Riggan... + + RIGGAN + Until I walked straight into the water + and tried to drown myself. + +Silence. Sylvia stares at Riggan, surprised. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + I was in up to my chest when I felt the + first one. On my back, like somebody was + holding a frying pan against me. And then + my chest, and my legs. The water was full + of jellyfish. I fought my way out of the + water, and I started rolling around the + sand like a maniac... crying. + +Sylvia doesn't know how to react. + + SYLVIA + You said it was a sunburn. + + RIGGAN + (Smiling.) + And you believed me. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 103. + + SYLVIA + To be honest, I didn't give a shit. + + RIGGAN + I love you. And I love Sam. + + SYLVIA + I know. + +Silence. They stare at each other. + RIGGAN + I never should have video taped Sam's + birth. First of all because you and Sam + both look like shit in that video. But + mostly because I missed the moment. I + should have just been there with the two + of you. Present in my own life. So I'd + have it. But, I don't. I don't have any of + it. + SYLVIA + You have Sam. + + RIGGAN + No, I don't. + + SYLVIA + Listen, she's just-- + + RIGGAN + No, I understand. She needed a father + and she got one shamefully successful + youtube video. Pretty pathetic. + + SYLVIA + (Putting a finger on + Riggan's lips.) + Shhh... There are more pathetic things + than that. That mustache, for example. +She kisses him. + + ANNIE ON SPEAKERS + Places for act two. Places. + + SYLVIA + Riggan... + + RIGGAN + You should get back to your seat. You + don't want to miss what's next. + +Sylvia lingers for a moment, and not knowing what to say, she +exits. Riggan opens a drawer and takes out a black case. He + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 104. + + gently opens the lid. Inside a revolver. He takes some bullets + out of a box and one by one loads them into the chamber as he + does his vocal exercises into the mirror. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Twenty little leopards laughed at two + lofty lions. Twenty little leopards + laughed at two lofty lions. Twenty + little leopards... laughed. + + He stares at the dressing room door, and with his telekinetic + powers he opens it. He snaps the cylinder into the gun and + exits out into... + +53 INT. HALLWAY - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 53 + + ...the hallway. He paces deliberately, gun in hand. + + A technician goes by in the opposite direction. + + TECHNICIAN + Break a leg, Mr. Thomson. + + Riggan ignores him and continues through to the... + +54 INT. BACKSTAGE - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 54 + + ...backstage area. Annie immediately hustles over to him holding + up the brain mechanism. He walks right by her. + + RIGGAN + (Brushing her off.) + I don't need it. + + Annie doesn't seem to understand. She stays there, holding the + device. Riggan takes his place outside the motel door. We pan + toward the audience. The auditorium is full. The audience in + complete silence. + + + Riggan knocks firmly on the door. Silence again. Then... + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Terri! Terri! + (Beat.) + I know you're in there! + He barges through the door and onto... + 10/29/14 / 105. + +55 INT. STAGE - THEATER - CONTINUOUS 55 + + ...the stage. The motel room as we saw it before. Mike and + Lesley jump out of the bed. + + LESLEY + Ed! What are you doing here? + + RIGGAN + (Almost whispering.) + Why? I need you to tell me why. I lived for + you-- I worshipped you... + MIKE + Listen Ed, I know this is hard but-- + + Riggan raises one hand to silence Mike. Mike looks at him, + confused. His eyes narrow on the gun. There is no red plug. + + Dead silence. An eerie electricity in the theater. + + RIGGAN + What's wrong with me? Why do I end + up having to beg people to love me? + + LESLEY + Ed. Eddie. Please... Give me the gun. + + She begins to cry. + + LESLEY (CONT'D) + Just look at me. I was drowning. I + was not capable of-- You deserve to + be loved. You do. + + RIGGAN + I just wanted to be what you wanted. + (Beat.) + Now I spend every fucking minute + praying to be someone else. Someone + I'm not. Anyone... + + MIKE + Put down the gun, Ed. She just doesn't love + you anymore. + + RIGGAN + (To Lesley.) + You don't, do you? + + LESLEY + (With sympathy.) + No... + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 106. + + RIGGAN + And you never will... + + LESLEY + I'm sorry. + +For the first time, Riggan turns to face the audience. He +smiles the most beautiful insane smile. + + RIGGAN + I don't exist. I'm not even here. I don't + exist. None of this matters. + +Then he raises a trembling arm, and with his eyes full of +tears, he aims the gun at Mike. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Pum. + +But he doesn't shoot. Then he turns and aims at Tabitha +Dickinson who is sitting on the second row. + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + Pum. + +Again, no shot. Slowly, Riggan raises the gun toward his own +head, suddenly a frightening explosion. Blood sprays. Riggan +falls. We stay with the shell-shocked audience. A moment of +tension, of uncertainty, until... + + MAN + Bravo! + +The audience, one by one, jump to their feet, applauding +wildly. The sole exception is Tabitha, who remains seated, a +dazed expression on her face. We stay with the audience a few +seconds longer. + + FADE TO BLACK. + +The sounds slowly vanish. After a moment of silence... + BIRDMAN (V.O.) + You won't be hearing from him + anymore. + + MAN (V.O.) + Is he...? + + BIRDMAN (V.O) + He's gone. + 10/29/14 / 107. + +INT. WAITING ROOM - HOSPITAL - DAWN + +One of the old Birdman films is playing on a small television +screen that hangs on a corner. The scene ends and a Morning +Show host appears. Behind him a picture of Riggan and a +caption that reads: "Nation in shock." A shot of a candle +vigil in Central park. + + HOST + What do we talk about when we talk + about Riggan Thomson? When we come + back, more on the actor who two + nights ago shot himself during the + opening performance of his new + Broadway play... + +We pan away from the TV to see that the waiting room is +filled with newsmen waiting for something to happen. There is +almost no room to breath. + +We pan to see Jake emerging from an elevator, carrying a +newspaper under his arm. He walks through the dense mass of +newsmen with a serious expression on his face. We follow him +into... + + +INT. ROOM - HOSPITAL - CONTINUOUS + +...a room. Jake peers in. Riggan lies on a bed, the bandages +on his nose cover most of his face. Sylvia is looking out the +window. + + JAKE + Is he...? + + SYLVIA + He's awake. + +Jake enters the room. + + JAKE + (Serious.) + I thought I lost you, buddy. Thank + god you're a horrible shot! What + the hell happened? I was watching + you up on that stage, and all of a + sudden you get that goofy look in + your eye, and you were just like-- + +He starts to laugh. + + SYLVIA + What the hell are you laughing + about? He tried to-- What is wrong + with you? + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 108. + + JAKE + I'm happy, okay? He's alive. My + best friend is alive. And he is the + man of the hour! + +Jake holds the New York Times up in the air. + + RIGGAN + What is that? + + JAKE + You did it. + + SYLVIA + (Coming to them.) + You have to be shitting me... She + wrote a review? + +Jake unfolds the newspaper and we see the headline of the +review: "The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance". + JAKE + (To Sylvia.) + Read it. + +He hands her the newspaper. She begins to read to herself. + + SYLVIA + I don't believe this... + + JAKE + Read it out loud! + + SAM + "Thompson has unwittingly given + birth to a new form that can only + be described as supra-realism. + Blood was spilled both literally + and metaphorically by artist and + audience alike. Red blood. The + blood that has been sorely missing + from the veins of the American + theatre..." + (Beat. To a smiling Jake.) + You're happy about this? + +She hands it to Riggan. + + JAKE + Happy? I'm fucking euphoric. This + is the-- This is the kind of review + that turns someone into a living + legend. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 109. + + SYLVIA + He tried to-- He shot the nose off + his face! + + JAKE + He's got a new nose! And if he + doesn't like that one, we'll get + him another one. We can use Meg + Ryan's guy. Who gives a shit? Turn + on the tv. There are people praying + for him all over the country. + They're lighting candles in Central + Park. He did it. (To Riggan) You + did it! The play's gonna run + forever. It's gonna open in London, + in Paris... The studios will call + us again. We'll get book offers. + + SYLVIA + How do you know all that? You can + see the future? + JAKE + (Euphoric.) + Yes. + +She slaps him in the face. + + SYLVIA + Did you see that coming? You're so + full of shit, Jake. + +Jake needs a few seconds to recover. Then he looks at Riggan +who just sits there, in silence. + + JAKE + Why aren't you saying anything? + This is what you wanted wasn't it? + (Riggan gazes at the + review.) + Riggan, this is what you wanted. + RIGGAN + It's what I wanted. + + JAKE + Okay, listen. You're gonna get hit + with a "brandishing a weapon" + charge. If anybody talks to you, it + was an accident and we're doing an + internal invest-- + +A newsman comes into the room and takes a quick picture. + + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 110. + + JAKE (CONT'D) + (Chasing him out.) + This is a hospital you motherfucker! + +Jake rushes to the door, shoving the newsman and a few other +paparazzi out the door. Security guards. Chaos. Finally +silence. Sylvia steps up and looks Riggan in the eye. + + SYLVIA + Is that what it was? An accident? +Riggan just stares at her. His calm, sad eyes peeking through +the bandages. After a moment his gaze moves over her +shoulder. Sylvia turns and we discover Sam standing in the +doorway holding a bouquet of flowers. A bit of awkward +silence, and Sylvia decides to leave them alone. + +She kisses Sam on the head and exits. Sam walks the flowers +to Riggan at the bed. She lays them on his chest. + + SAM + Alchemillas. + +The hint of a smile on Riggan's face. + + SAM (CONT'D) + Are you actually smiling? + (She smiles.) + What's so funny? + + RIGGAN + I can't smell them. + +A moment until the smiles turn to gentle laughter. She takes +out her cell phone and snaps a picture of him. + + RIGGAN (CONT'D) + What are you doing? + + SAM + I'm posting this picture on your + Twitter page. + + RIGGAN + Very funny... + + SAM + Set it up today. + + RIGGAN + You're joking. + + SAM + I'm not. + + (CONTINUED) + 10/29/14 / 111. + + RIGGAN + Let me see the picture. + + SAM + Absolutely not. You look hideous. + + RIGGAN + Thanks a lot. + + SAM + I'm just kidding. No, I'm not. You + look hideous. + (Working on phone.) + You already have 80 thousand + followers. In less than a day. And + I'm about to scare the shit out of + them. + + RIGGAN + Let me see. + SAM + No. Done. + +A moment between them. Sam picks up the flowers and kisses +him tenderly on the head. Riggan is pleasantly surprised by +that kiss. + + SAM (CONT'D) + Now, I'm going to find something to + put these flowers in. + +She heads out of the room. Riggan lies there for a moment, +tranquil. After a moment he reaches up and touches his +bandages. Finally, he climbs out of the bed. We follow him +into... + + +INT. BATHROOM - ROOM - HOSPITAL - CONTINUOUS + +...the bathroom. He stands before the mirror. He stares at +his reflection for a few seconds, and slowly begins to remove +the bandages. We can see that Riggan's nose has been +reconstructed. It is a crooked, incomplete nose, like the one +Javier Bardem has. + + RIGGAN + I do look hideous. + +In the reflection, Riggan sees Birdman sitting on the toilet. +They look at each other, but say nothing. Riggan puts the +bandages back on and we follow him out to... + 10/29/14 / 112. + +INT. ROOM - HOSPITAL - CONTINUOUS + +...the room. He looks around, but Sam is gone. He ambles over +to the window, his ass hanging out of the back of his +hospital robe. He opens the window and feels the sun and the +breeze on his swollen face. We just hear the sounds of the +people standing down in the parking lot. Media trucks. Fans. +We stay with Riggan, who seems to be thinking about +something. He sees a flock of birds dancing in the sky. Then +he grabs the side of the window with one hand and begins to +step up onto the sill. +The camera pans away from him to a table that has some photos +propped on it: One of he and Sam when she was a child. One +with Sylvia and Sam. A copy of Carver's "What we talk About +When We Talk About Love" laying on the surface. + +The camera continues to pan until it comes to the door. Sam +enters with a small vase. She looks around... + + SAM + Dad? + +She goes to the bathroom and peers in... nothing. + + SAM (CONT'D) + Dad...? + +She spots the opened window and registers the sounds from +outside. Tentatively she walks toward the window. She gets +there, summons her courage and looks down. Nothing. Slowly, +confused, she tilts her head up and looks up into the sky. A +smile, filled with pride, begin to wash over her face. + + SMASH TO BLACK * + FOXSEARCHLIGHT.COM/AWARDS +Released by Twentieth Century Fox © 2014 Twentieth Century Fox diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/burnett.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/burnett.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2137baa --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/burnett.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3209 @@ +Little Princess, A + + + + + + + + + + Little Princess, A + + + + The Project Gutenberg Etext of A Little Princess + + by Frances Hodgson Burnett (#3 in our series by Frances Hodgson Burnett) + + Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + + Please take a look at the important information in this header. + + We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an electronic path open for the next readers. + + Please do not remove this. + + This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. 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A French Lesson 3. Ermengarde 4. Lottie 5. Becky 6. The Diamond Mines 7. The Diamond Mines Again 8. In the Attic 9. Melchisedec 10. The Indian Gentleman 11. Ram Dass 12. The Other Side of the Wall 13. One of the Populace 14. What Melchisedec Heard and Saw 15. The Magic 16. The Visitor 17. "It Is the Child" 18. "I Tried Not to Be" 19. Anne + + + + A Little Princess + + 1 + + Sara + + Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd- looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the big thoroughfares. + + She sat with her feet tucked under her, and leaned against her father, who held her in his arm, as she stared out of the window at the passing people with a queer old-fashioned thoughtfulness in her big eyes. + + She was such a little girl that one did not expect to see such a look on her small face. It would have been an old look for a child of twelve, and Sara Crewe was only seven. The fact was, however, that she was always dreaming and thinking odd things and could not herself remember any time when she had not been thinking things about grown-up people and the world they belonged to. She felt as if she had lived a long, long time. + + At this moment she was remembering the voyage she had just made from Bombay with her father, Captain Crewe. She was thinking of the big ship, of the Lascars passing silently to and fro on it, of the children playing about on the hot deck, and of some young officers' wives who used to try to make her talk to them and laugh at the things she said. + + Principally, she was thinking of what a queer thing it was that at one time one was in India in the blazing sun, and then in the middle of the ocean, and then driving in a strange vehicle through strange streets where the day was as dark as the night. She found this so puzzling that she moved closer to her father. + + "Papa," she said in a low, mysterious little voice which was almost a whisper, "papa." + + "What is it, darling?" Captain Crewe answered, holding her closer and looking down into her face. "What is Sara thinking of?" + + "Is this the place?" Sara whispered, cuddling still closer to him. "Is it, papa?" + + "Yes, little Sara, it is. We have reached it at last." And though she was only seven years old, she knew that he felt sad when he said it. + + It seemed to her many years since he had begun to prepare her mind for "the place," as she always called it. Her mother had died when she was born, so she had never known or missed her. Her young, handsome, rich, petting father seemed to be the only relation she had in the world. They had always played together and been fond of each other. She only knew he was rich because she had heard people say so when they thought she was not listening, and she had also heard them say that when she grew up she would be rich, too. She did not know all that being rich meant. She had always lived in a beautiful bungalow, and had been used to seeing many servants who made salaams to her and called her "Missee Sahib," and gave her her own way in everything. She had had toys and pets and an ayah who worshipped her, and she had gradually learned that people who were rich had these things. That, however, was all she knew about it. + + During her short life only one thing had troubled her, and that thing was "the place" she was to be taken to some day. The climate of India was very bad for children, and as soon as possible they were sent away from it--generally to England and to school. She had seen other children go away, and had heard their fathers and mothers talk about the letters they received from them. She had known that she would be obliged to go also, and though sometimes her father's stories of the voyage and the new country had attracted her, she had been troubled by the thought that he could not stay with her. + + "Couldn't you go to that place with me, papa?" she had asked when she was five years old. "Couldn't you go to school, too? I would help you with your lessons." + + "But you will not have to stay for a very long time, little Sara," he had always said. "You will go to a nice house where there will be a lot of little girls, and you will play together, and I will send you plenty of books, and you will grow so fast that it will seem scarcely a year before you are big enough and clever enough to come back and take care of papa." + + She had liked to think of that. To keep the house for her father; to ride with him, and sit at the head of his table when he had dinner parties; to talk to him and read his books--that would be what she would like most in the world, and if one must go away to "the place" in England to attain it, she must make up her mind to go. She did not care very much for other little girls, but if she had plenty of books she could console herself. She liked books more than anything else, and was, in fact, always inventing stories of beautiful things and telling them to herself. Sometimes she had told them to her father, and he had liked them as much as she did. + + "Well, papa," she said softly, "if we are here I suppose we must be resigned." + + He laughed at her old-fashioned speech and kissed her. He was really not at all resigned himself, though he knew he must keep that a secret. His quaint little Sara had been a great companion to him, and he felt he should be a lonely fellow when, on his return to India, he went into his bungalow knowing he need not expect to see the small figure in its white frock come forward to meet him. So he held her very closely in his arms as the cab rolled into the big, dull square in which stood the house which was their destination. + + It was a big, dull, brick house, exactly like all the others in its row, but that on the front door there shone a brass plate on which was engraved in black letters: + + MISS MINCHIN, + + Select Seminary for Young Ladies. + + "Here we are, Sara," said Captain Crewe, making his voice sound as cheerful as possible. Then he lifted her out of the cab and they mounted the steps and rang the bell. Sara often thought afterward that the house was somehow exactly like Miss Minchin. It was respectable and well furnished, but everything in it was ugly; and the very armchairs seemed to have hard bones in them. In the hall everything was hard and polished--even the red cheeks of the moon face on the tall clock in the corner had a severe varnished look. The drawing room into which they were ushered was covered by a carpet with a square pattern upon it, the chairs were square, and a heavy marble timepiece stood upon the heavy marble mantel. + + As she sat down in one of the stiff mahogany chairs, Sara cast one of her quick looks about her. + + "I don't like it, papa," she said. "But then I dare say soldiers-- even brave ones--don't really LIKE going into battle." + + Captain Crewe laughed outright at this. He was young and full of fun, and he never tired of hearing Sara's queer speeches. + + "Oh, little Sara," he said. "What shall I do when I have no one to say solemn things to me? No one else is as solemn as you are." + + "But why do solemn things make you laugh so?" inquired Sara. + + "Because you are such fun when you say them," he answered, laughing still more. And then suddenly he swept her into his arms and kissed her very hard, stopping laughing all at once and looking almost as if tears had come into his eyes. + + It was just then that Miss Minchin entered the room. She was very like her house, Sara felt: tall and dull, and respectable and ugly. She had large, cold, fishy eyes, and a large, cold, fishy smile. It spread itself into a very large smile when she saw Sara and Captain Crewe. She had heard a great many desirable things of the young soldier from the lady who had recommended her school to him. Among other things, she had heard that he was a rich father who was willing to spend a great deal of money on his little daughter. + + "It will be a great privilege to have charge of such a beautiful and promising child, Captain Crewe," she said, taking Sara's hand and stroking it. "Lady Meredith has told me of her unusual cleverness. A clever child is a great treasure in an establishment like mine." + + Sara stood quietly, with her eyes fixed upon Miss Minchin's face. She was thinking something odd, as usual. + + "Why does she say I am a beautiful child?" she was thinking. "I am not beautiful at all. Colonel Grange's little girl, Isobel, is beautiful. She has dimples and rose-colored cheeks, and long hair the color of gold. I have short black hair and green eyes; besides which, I am a thin child and not fair in the least. I am one of the ugliest children I ever saw. She is beginning by telling a story." + + She was mistaken, however, in thinking she was an ugly child. She was not in the least like Isobel Grange, who had been the beauty of the regiment, but she had an odd charm of her own. She was a slim, supple creature, rather tall for her age, and had an intense, attractive little face. Her hair was heavy and quite black and only curled at the tips; her eyes were greenish gray, it is true, but they were big, wonderful eyes with long, black lashes, and though she herself did not like the color of them, many other people did. Still she was very firm in her belief that she was an ugly little girl, and she was not at all elated by Miss Minchin's flattery. + + "I should be telling a story if I said she was beautiful," she thought; "and I should know I was telling a story. I believe I am as ugly as she is--in my way. What did she say that for?" + + After she had known Miss Minchin longer she learned why she had said it. She discovered that she said the same thing to each papa and mamma who brought a child to her school. + + Sara stood near her father and listened while he and Miss Minchin talked. She had been brought to the seminary because Lady Meredith's two little girls had been educated there, and Captain Crewe had a great respect for Lady Meredith's experience. Sara was to be what was known as "a parlor boarder," and she was to enjoy even greater privileges than parlor boarders usually did. She was to have a pretty bedroom and sitting room of her own; she was to have a pony and a carriage, and a maid to take the place of the ayah who had been her nurse in India. + + "I am not in the least anxious about her education," Captain Crewe said, with his gay laugh, as he held Sara's hand and patted it. "The difficulty will be to keep her from learning too fast and too much. She is always sitting with her little nose burrowing into books. She doesn't read them, Miss Minchin; she gobbles them up as if she were a little wolf instead of a little girl. She is always starving for new books to gobble, and she wants grown-up books--great, big, fat ones--French and German as well as English--history and biography and poets, and all sorts of things. Drag her away from her books when she reads too much. Make her ride her pony in the Row or go out and buy a new doll. She ought to play more with dolls." + + "Papa," said Sara, "you see, if I went out and bought a new doll every few days I should have more than I could be fond of. Dolls ought to be intimate friends. Emily is going to be my intimate friend." + + Captain Crewe looked at Miss Minchin and Miss Minchin looked at Captain Crewe. + + "Who is Emily?" she inquired. + + "Tell her, Sara," Captain Crewe said, smiling. + + Sara's green-gray eyes looked very solemn and quite soft as she answered. + + "She is a doll I haven't got yet," she said. "She is a doll papa is going to buy for me. We are going out together to find her. I have called her Emily. She is going to be my friend when papa is gone. I want her to talk to about him." + + Miss Minchin's large, fishy smile became very flattering indeed. + + "What an original child!" she said. "What a darling little creature!" + + "Yes," said Captain Crewe, drawing Sara close. "She is a darling little creature. Take great care of her for me, Miss Minchin." + + Sara stayed with her father at his hotel for several days; in fact, she remained with him until he sailed away again to India. They went out and visited many big shops together, and bought a great many things. They bought, indeed, a great many more things than Sara needed; but Captain Crewe was a rash, innocent young man and wanted his little girl to have everything she admired and everything he admired himself, so between them they collected a wardrobe much too grand for a child of seven. There were velvet dresses trimmed with costly furs, and lace dresses, and embroidered ones, and hats with great, soft ostrich feathers, and ermine coats and muffs, and boxes of tiny gloves and handkerchiefs and silk stockings in such abundant supplies that the polite young women behind the counters whispered to each other that the odd little girl with the big, solemn eyes must be at least some foreign princess--perhaps the little daughter of an Indian rajah. + + And at last they found Emily, but they went to a number of toy shops and looked at a great many dolls before they discovered her. + + "I want her to look as if she wasn't a doll really," Sara said. "I want her to look as if she LISTENS when I talk to her. The trouble with dolls, papa"--and she put her head on one side and reflected as she said it--"the trouble with dolls is that they never seem to HEAR." So they looked at big ones and little ones-- at dolls with black eyes and dolls with blue--at dolls with brown curls and dolls with golden braids, dolls dressed and dolls undressed. + + "You see," Sara said when they were examining one who had no clothes. "If, when I find her, she has no frocks, we can take her to a dressmaker and have her things made to fit. They will fit better if they are tried on." + + After a number of disappointments they decided to walk and look in at the shop windows and let the cab follow them. They had passed two or three places without even going in, when, as they were approaching a shop which was really not a very large one, Sara suddenly started and clutched her father's arm. + + "Oh, papa!" she cried. "There is Emily!" + + A flush had risen to her face and there was an expression in her green-gray eyes as if she had just recognized someone she was intimate with and fond of. + + "She is actually waiting there for us!" she said. "Let us go in to her." + + "Dear me," said Captain Crewe, "I feel as if we ought to have someone to introduce us." + + "You must introduce me and I will introduce you," said Sara. "But I knew her the minute I saw her--so perhaps she knew me, too." + + Perhaps she had known her. She had certainly a very intelligent expression in her eyes when Sara took her in her arms. She was a large doll, but not too large to carry about easily; she had naturally curling golden-brown hair, which hung like a mantle about her, and her eyes were a deep, clear, gray-blue, with soft, thick eyelashes which were real eyelashes and not mere painted lines. + + "Of course," said Sara, looking into her face as she held her on her knee, "of course papa, this is Emily." + + So Emily was bought and actually taken to a children's outfitter's shop and measured for a wardrobe as grand as Sara's own. She had lace frocks, too, and velvet and muslin ones, and hats and coats and beautiful lace-trimmed underclothes, and gloves and handkerchiefs and furs. + + "I should like her always to look as if she was a child with a good mother," said Sara. "I'm her mother, though I am going to make a companion of her." + + Captain Crewe would really have enjoyed the shopping tremendously, but that a sad thought kept tugging at his heart. This all meant that he was going to be separated from his beloved, quaint little comrade. + + He got out of his bed in the middle of that night and went and stood looking down at Sara, who lay asleep with Emily in her arms. Her black hair was spread out on the pillow and Emily's golden-brown hair mingled with it, both of them had lace-ruffled nightgowns, and both had long eyelashes which lay and curled up on their cheeks. Emily looked so like a real child that Captain Crewe felt glad she was there. He drew a big sigh and pulled his mustache with a boyish expression. + + "Heigh-ho, little Sara!" he said to himself "I don't believe you know how much your daddy will miss you." + + The next day he took her to Miss Minchin's and left her there. He was to sail away the next morning. He explained to Miss Minchin that his solicitors, Messrs. Barrow & Skipworth, had charge of his affairs in England and would give her any advice she wanted, and that they would pay the bills she sent in for Sara's expenses. He would write to Sara twice a week, and she was to be given every pleasure she asked for. + + "She is a sensible little thing, and she never wants anything it isn't safe to give her," he said. + + Then he went with Sara into her little sitting room and they bade each other good-by. Sara sat on his knee and held the lapels of his coat in her small hands, and looked long and hard at his face. + + "Are you learning me by heart, little Sara?" he said, stroking her hair. + + "No," she answered. "I know you by heart. You are inside my heart." And they put their arms round each other and kissed as if they would never let each other go. + + When the cab drove away from the door, Sara was sitting on the floor of her sitting room, with her hands under her chin and her eyes following it until it had turned the corner of the square. Emily was sitting by her, and she looked after it, too. When Miss Minchin sent her sister, Miss Amelia, to see what the child was doing, she found she could not open the door. + + "I have locked it," said a queer, polite little voice from inside. "I want to be quite by myself, if you please." + + Miss Amelia was fat and dumpy, and stood very much in awe of her sister. She was really the better-natured person of the two, but she never disobeyed Miss Minchin. She went downstairs again, looking almost alarmed. + + "I never saw such a funny, old-fashioned child, sister," she said. "She has locked herself in, and she is not making the least particle of noise." + + "It is much better than if she kicked and screamed, as some of them do," Miss Minchin answered. "I expected that a child as much spoiled as she is would set the whole house in an uproar. If ever a child was given her own way in everything, she is." + + "I've been opening her trunks and putting her things away," said Miss Amelia. "I never saw anything like them--sable and ermine on her coats, and real Valenciennes lace on her underclothing. You have seen some of her clothes. What DO you think of them?" + + "I think they are perfectly ridiculous," replied Miss Minchin, sharply; "but they will look very well at the head of the line when we take the schoolchildren to church on Sunday. She has been provided for as if she were a little princess." + + And upstairs in the locked room Sara and Emily sat on the floor and stared at the corner round which the cab had disappeared, while Captain Crewe looked backward, waving and kissing his hand as if he could not bear to stop. + + + + 2 + + A French Lesson + + When Sara entered the schoolroom the next morning everybody looked at her with wide, interested eyes. By that time every pupil-- from Lavinia Herbert, who was nearly thirteen and felt quite grown up, to Lottie Legh, who was only just four and the baby of the school-- had heard a great deal about her. They knew very certainly that she was Miss Minchin's show pupil and was considered a credit to the establishment. One or two of them had even caught a glimpse of her French maid, Mariette, who had arrived the evening before. Lavinia had managed to pass Sara's room when the door was open, and had seen Mariette opening a box which had arrived late from some shop. + + "It was full of petticoats with lace frills on them--frills and frills," she whispered to her friend Jessie as she bent over her geography. "I saw her shaking them out. I heard Miss Minchin say to Miss Amelia that her clothes were so grand that they were ridiculous for a child. My mamma says that children should be dressed simply. She has got one of those petticoats on now. I saw it when she sat down." + + "She has silk stockings on!" whispered Jessie, bending over her geography also. "And what little feet! I never saw such little feet." + + "Oh," sniffed Lavinia, spitefully, "that is the way her slippers are made. My mamma says that even big feet can be made to look small if you have a clever shoemaker. I don't think she is pretty at all. Her eyes are such a queer color." + + "She isn't pretty as other pretty people are," said Jessie, stealing a glance across the room; "but she makes you want to look at her again. She has tremendously long eyelashes, but her eyes are almost green." + + Sara was sitting quietly in her seat, waiting to be told what to do. She had been placed near Miss Minchin's desk. She was not abashed at all by the many pairs of eyes watching her. She was interested and looked back quietly at the children who looked at her. She wondered what they were thinking of, and if they liked Miss Minchin, and if they cared for their lessons, and if any of them had a papa at all like her own. She had had a long talk with Emily about her papa that morning. + + "He is on the sea now, Emily," she had said. "We must be very great friends to each other and tell each other things. Emily, look at me. You have the nicest eyes I ever saw--but I wish you could speak." + + She was a child full of imaginings and whimsical thoughts, and one of her fancies was that there would be a great deal of comfort in even pretending that Emily was alive and really heard and understood. After Mariette had dressed her in her dark-blue schoolroom frock and tied her hair with a dark-blue ribbon, she went to Emily, who sat in a chair of her own, and gave her a book. + + "You can read that while I am downstairs," she said; and, seeing Mariette looking at her curiously, she spoke to her with a serious little face. + + "What I believe about dolls," she said, "is that they can do things they will not let us know about. Perhaps, really, Emily can read and talk and walk, but she will only do it when people are out of the room. That is her secret. You see, if people knew that dolls could do things, they would make them work. So, perhaps, they have promised each other to keep it a secret. If you stay in the room, Emily will just sit there and stare; but if you go out, she will begin to read, perhaps, or go and look out of the window. Then if she heard either of us coming, she would just run back and jump into her chair and pretend she had been there all the time." + + "Comme elle est drole!" Mariette said to herself, and when she went downstairs she told the head housemaid about it. But she had already begun to like this odd little girl who had such an intelligent small face and such perfect manners. She had taken care of children before who were not so polite. Sara was a very fine little person, and had a gentle, appreciative way of saying, "If you please, Mariette," "Thank you, Mariette," which was very charming. Mariette told the head housemaid that she thanked her as if she was thanking a lady. + + "Elle a l'air d'une princesse, cette petite," she said. Indeed, she was very much pleased with her new little mistress and liked her place greatly. + + After Sara had sat in her seat in the schoolroom for a few minutes, being looked at by the pupils, Miss Minchin rapped in a dignified manner upon her desk. + + "Young ladies," she said, "I wish to introduce you to your new companion." All the little girls rose in their places, and Sara rose also. "I shall expect you all to be very agreeable to Miss Crewe; she has just come to us from a great distance--in fact, from India. As soon as lessons are over you must make each other's acquaintance." + + The pupils bowed ceremoniously, and Sara made a little curtsy, and then they sat down and looked at each other again. + + "Sara," said Miss Minchin in her schoolroom manner, "come here to me." + + She had taken a book from the desk and was turning over its leaves. Sara went to her politely. + + "As your papa has engaged a French maid for you," she began, "I conclude that he wishes you to make a special study of the French language." + + Sara felt a little awkward. + + "I think he engaged her," she said, "because he--he thought I would like her, Miss Minchin." + + "I am afraid," said Miss Minchin, with a slightly sour smile, "that you have been a very spoiled little girl and always imagine that things are done because you like them. My impression is that your papa wished you to learn French." + + If Sara had been older or less punctilious about being quite polite to people, she could have explained herself in a very few words. But, as it was, she felt a flush rising on her cheeks. Miss Minchin was a very severe and imposing person, and she seemed so absolutely sure that Sara knew nothing whatever of French that she felt as if it would be almost rude to correct her. The truth was that Sara could not remember the time when she had not seemed to know French. Her father had often spoken it to her when she had been a baby. Her mother had been a French woman, and Captain Crewe had loved her language, so it happened that Sara had always heard and been familiar with it. + + "I--I have never really learned French, but--but--" she began, trying shyly to make herself clear. + + One of Miss Minchin's chief secret annoyances was that she did not speak French herself, and was desirous of concealing the irritating fact. She, therefore, had no intention of discussing the matter and laying herself open to innocent questioning by a new little pupil. + + "That is enough," she said with polite tartness. "If you have not learned, you must begin at once. The French master, Monsieur Dufarge, will be here in a few minutes. Take this book and look at it until he arrives." + + Sara's cheeks felt warm. She went back to her seat and opened the book. She looked at the first page with a grave face. She knew it would be rude to smile, and she was very determined not to be rude. But it was very odd to find herself expected to study a page which told her that "le pere" meant "the father," and "la mere" meant "the mother." + + Miss Minchin glanced toward her scrutinizingly. + + "You look rather cross, Sara," she said. "I am sorry you do not like the idea of learning French." + + "I am very fond of it," answered Sara, thinking she would try again; "but--" + + "You must not say `but' when you are told to do things," said Miss Minchin. "Look at your book again." + + And Sara did so, and did not smile, even when she found that "le fils" meant "the son," and "le frere" meant "the brother." + + "When Monsieur Dufarge comes," she thought, "I can make him understand." + + Monsieur Dufarge arrived very shortly afterward. He was a very nice, intelligent, middle-aged Frenchman, and he looked interested when his eyes fell upon Sara trying politely to seem absorbed in her little book of phrases. + + "Is this a new pupil for me, madame?" he said to Miss Minchin. "I hope that is my good fortune." + + "Her papa--Captain Crewe--is very anxious that she should begin the language. But I am afraid she has a childish prejudice against it. She does not seem to wish to learn," said Miss Minchin. + + "I am sorry of that, mademoiselle," he said kindly to Sara. "Perhaps, when we begin to study together, I may show you that it is a charming tongue." + + Little Sara rose in her seat. She was beginning to feel rather desperate, as if she were almost in disgrace. She looked up into Monsieur Dufarge's face with her big, green-gray eyes, and they were quite innocently appealing. She knew that he would understand as soon as she spoke. She began to explain quite simply in pretty and fluent French. Madame had not understood. She had not learned French exactly--not out of books--but her papa and other people had always spoken it to her, and she had read it and written it as she had read and written English. Her papa loved it, and she loved it because he did. Her dear mamma, who had died when she was born, had been French. She would be glad to learn anything monsieur would teach her, but what she had tried to explain to madame was that she already knew the words in this book-- and she held out the little book of phrases. + + When she began to speak Miss Minchin started quite violently and sat staring at her over her eyeglasses, almost indignantly, until she had finished. Monsieur Dufarge began to smile, and his smile was one of great pleasure. To hear this pretty childish voice speaking his own language so simply and charmingly made him feel almost as if he were in his native land--which in dark, foggy days in London sometimes seemed worlds away. When she had finished, he took the phrase book from her, with a look almost affectionate. But he spoke to Miss Minchin. + + "Ah, madame," he said, "there is not much I can teach her. She has not LEARNED French; she is French. Her accent is exquisite." + + "You ought to have told me," exclaimed Miss Minchin, much mortified, turning to Sara. + + "I--I tried," said Sara. "I--I suppose I did not begin right." + + Miss Minchin knew she had tried, and that it had not been her fault that she was not allowed to explain. And when she saw that the pupils had been listening and that Lavinia and Jessie were giggling behind their French grammars, she felt infuriated. + + "Silence, young ladies!" she said severely, rapping upon the desk. "Silence at once!" + + And she began from that minute to feel rather a grudge against her show pupil. + + + + 3 + + Ermengarde + + On that first morning, when Sara sat at Miss Minchin's side, aware that the whole schoolroom was devoting itself to observing her, she had noticed very soon one little girl, about her own age, who looked at her very hard with a pair of light, rather dull, blue eyes. She was a fat child who did not look as if she were in the least clever, but she had a good-naturedly pouting mouth. Her flaxen hair was braided in a tight pigtail, tied with a ribbon, and she had pulled this pigtail around her neck, and was biting the end of the ribbon, resting her elbows on the desk, as she stared wonderingly at the new pupil. When Monsieur Dufarge began to speak to Sara, she looked a little frightened; and when Sara stepped forward and, looking at him with the innocent, appealing eyes, answered him, without any warning, in French, the fat little girl gave a startled jump, and grew quite red in her awed amazement. Having wept hopeless tears for weeks in her efforts to remember that "la mere" meant "the mother," and "le pere," "the father,"-- when one spoke sensible English--it was almost too much for her suddenly to find herself listening to a child her own age who seemed not only quite familiar with these words, but apparently knew any number of others, and could mix them up with verbs as if they were mere trifles. + + She stared so hard and bit the ribbon on her pigtail so fast that she attracted the attention of Miss Minchin, who, feeling extremely cross at the moment, immediately pounced upon her. + + "Miss St. John!" she exclaimed severely. "What do you mean by such conduct? Remove your elbows! Take your ribbon out of your mouth! Sit up at once!" + + Upon which Miss St. John gave another jump, and when Lavinia and Jessie tittered she became redder than ever--so red, indeed, that she almost looked as if tears were coming into her poor, dull, childish eyes; and Sara saw her and was so sorry for her that she began rather to like her and want to be her friend. It was a way of hers always to want to spring into any fray in which someone was made uncomfortable or unhappy. + + "If Sara had been a boy and lived a few centuries ago," her father used to say, "she would have gone about the country with her sword drawn, rescuing and defending everyone in distress. She always wants to fight when she sees people in trouble." + + So she took rather a fancy to fat, slow, little Miss St. John, and kept glancing toward her through the morning. She saw that lessons were no easy matter to her, and that there was no danger of her ever being spoiled by being treated as a show pupil. Her French lesson was a pathetic thing. Her pronunciation made even Monsieur Dufarge smile in spite of himself, and Lavinia and Jessie and the more fortunate girls either giggled or looked at her in wondering disdain. But Sara did not laugh. She tried to look as if she did not hear when Miss St. John called "le bon pain," "lee bong pang." She had a fine, hot little temper of her own, and it made her feel rather savage when she heard the titters and saw the poor, stupid, distressed child's face. + + "It isn't funny, really," she said between her teeth, as she bent over her book. "They ought not to laugh." + + When lessons were over and the pupils gathered together in groups to talk, Sara looked for Miss St. John, and finding her bundled rather disconsolately in a window-seat, she walked over to her and spoke. She only said the kind of thing little girls always say to each other by way of beginning an acquaintance, but there was something friendly about Sara, and people always felt it. + + "What is your name?" she said. + + To explain Miss St. John's amazement one must recall that a new pupil is, for a short time, a somewhat uncertain thing; and of this new pupil the entire school had talked the night before until it fell asleep quite exhausted by excitement and contradictory stories. A new pupil with a carriage and a pony and a maid, and a voyage from India to discuss, was not an ordinary acquaintance. + + "My name's Ermengarde St. John," she answered. + + "Mine is Sara Crewe," said Sara. "Yours is very pretty. It sounds like a story book." + + "Do you like it?" fluttered Ermengarde. "I--I like yours." + + Miss St. John's chief trouble in life was that she had a clever father. Sometimes this seemed to her a dreadful calamity. If you have a father who knows everything, who speaks seven or eight languages, and has thousands of volumes which he has apparently learned by heart, he frequently expects you to be familiar with the contents of your lesson books at least; + + to herself "How CAN it be!" + + And just at that very moment she heard the door being cautiously pushed open and saw Becky peeping round it. + + There was an affectionate, happy grin on her face, and she shuffled forward and stood nervously pulling at her fingers. + + "Do yer like it, Miss Sara?" she said. "Do yer?" + + "Like it?" cried Sara. "You darling Becky, you made it all yourself." + + Becky gave a hysteric but joyful sniff, and her eyes looked quite moist with delight. + + "It ain't nothin' but flannin, an' the flannin ain't new; but I wanted to give yer somethin' an' I made it of nights. I knew yer could PRETEND it was satin with diamond pins in. I tried to when I was makin' it. The card, miss," rather doubtfully; "'t warn't wrong of me to pick it up out o' the dust-bin, was it? Miss 'Meliar had throwed it away. I hadn't no card o' my own, an' I knowed it wouldn't be a proper presink if I didn't pin a card on-- so I pinned Miss 'Meliar's." + + Sara flew at her and hugged her. She could not have told herself or anyone else why there was a lump in her throat. + + "Oh, Becky!" she cried out, with a queer little laugh, "I love you, Becky--I do, I do!" + + "Oh, miss!" breathed Becky. "Thank yer, miss, kindly; it ain't good enough for that. The--the flannin wasn't new." + + + + 7 + + The Diamond Mines Again + + When Sara entered the holly-hung schoolroom in the afternoon, she did so as the head of a sort of procession. Miss Minchin, in her grandest silk dress, led her by the hand. A manservant followed, carrying the box containing the Last Doll, a housemaid carried a second box, and Becky brought up the rear, carrying a third and wearing a clean apron and a new cap. Sara would have much preferred to enter in the usual way, but Miss Minchin had sent for her, and, after an interview in her private sitting room, had expressed her wishes. + + "This is not an ordinary occasion," she said. "I do not desire that it should be treated as one." + + So Sara was led grandly in and felt shy when, on her entry, the big girls stared at her and touched each other's elbows, and the little ones began to squirm joyously in their seats. + + "Silence, young ladies!" said Miss Minchin, at the murmur which arose. "James, place the box on the table and remove the lid. Emma, put yours upon a chair. Becky!" suddenly and severely. + + Becky had quite forgotten herself in her excitement, and was grinning at Lottie, who was wriggling with rapturous expectation. She almost dropped her box, the disapproving voice so startled her, and her frightened, bobbing curtsy of apology was so funny that Lavinia and Jessie tittered. + + "It is not your place to look at the young ladies," said Miss Minchin. "You forget yourself. Put your box down." + + Becky obeyed with alarmed haste and hastily backed toward the door. + + "You may leave us," Miss Minchin announced to the servants with a wave of her hand. + + Becky stepped aside respectfully to allow the superior servants to pass out first. She could not help casting a longing glance at the box on the table. Something made of blue satin was peeping from between the folds of tissue paper. + + "If you please, Miss Minchin," said Sara, suddenly, "mayn't Becky stay?" + + It was a bold thing to do. Miss Minchin was betrayed into something like a slight jump. Then she put her eyeglass up, and gazed at her show pupil disturbedly. + + "Becky!" she exclaimed. "My dearest Sara!" + + Sara advanced a step toward her. + + "I want her because I know she will like to see the presents," she explained. "She is a little girl, too, you know." + + Miss Minchin was scandalized. She glanced from one figure to the other. + + "My dear Sara," she said, "Becky is the scullery maid. Scullery maids--er--are not little girls." + + It really had not occurred to her to think of them in that light. Scullery maids were machines who carried coal scuttles and made fires. + + "But Becky is," said Sara. "And I know she would enjoy herself. Please let her stay--because it is my birthday." + + Miss Minchin replied with much dignity: + + "As you ask it as a birthday favor--she may stay. Rebecca, thank Miss Sara for her great kindness." + + Becky had been backing into the corner, twisting the hem of her apron in delighted suspense. She came forward, bobbing curtsies, but between Sara's eyes and her own there passed a gleam of friendly understanding, while her words tumbled over each other. + + "Oh, if you please, miss! I'm that grateful, miss! I did want to see the doll, miss, that I did. Thank you, miss. And thank you, ma'am,"--turning and making an alarmed bob to Miss Minchin-- "for letting me take the liberty." + + Miss Minchin waved her hand again--this time it was in the direction of the corner near the door. + + "Go and stand there," she commanded. "Not too near the young ladies." + + Becky went to her place, grinning. She did not care where she was sent, so that she might have the luck of being inside the room, instead of being downstairs in the scullery, while these delights were going on. She did not even mind when Miss Minchin cleared her throat ominously and spoke again. + + "Now, young ladies, I have a few words to say to you," she announced. + + "She's going to make a speech," whispered one of the girls. "I wish it was over." + + Sara felt rather uncomfortable. As this was her party, it was probable that the speech was about her. It is not agreeable to stand in a schoolroom and have a speech made about you. + + "You are aware, young ladies," the speech began--for it was a speech--"that dear Sara is eleven years old today." + + "DEAR Sara!" murmured Lavinia. + + "Several of you here have also been eleven years old, but Sara's birthdays are rather different from other little girls' birthdays. When she is older she will be heiress to a large fortune, which it will be her duty to spend in a meritorious manner." + + "The diamond mines," giggled Jessie, in a whisper. + + Sara did not hear her; but as she stood with her green-gray eyes fixed steadily on Miss Minchin, she felt herself growing rather hot. When Miss Minchin talked about money, she felt somehow that she always hated her--and, of course, it was disrespectful to hate grown-up people. + + "When her dear papa, Captain Crewe, brought her from India and gave her into my care," the speech proceeded, "he said to me, in a jesting way, `I am afraid she will be very rich, Miss Minchin.' My reply was, `Her education at my seminary, Captain Crewe, shall be such as will adorn the largest fortune.' Sara has become my most accomplished pupil. Her French and her dancing are a credit to the seminary. Her manners--which have caused you to call her Princess Sara--are perfect. Her amiability she exhibits by giving you this afternoon's party. I hope you appreciate her generosity. I wish you to express your appreciation of it by saying aloud all together, `Thank you, Sara!'" + + The entire schoolroom rose to its feet as it had done the morning Sara remembered so well. + + "Thank you, Sara!" it said, and it must be confessed that Lottie jumped up and down. Sara looked rather shy for a moment. She made a curtsy--and it was a very nice one. + + "Thank you," she said, "for coming to my party." + + "Very pretty, indeed, Sara," approved Miss Minchin. "That is what a real princess does when the populace applauds her. Lavinia"--scathingly--"the sound you just made was extremely like a snort. If you are jealous of your fellow-pupil, I beg you will express your feelings in some more lady-like manner. Now I will leave you to enjoy yourselves." + + The instant she had swept out of the room the spell her presence always had upon them was broken. The door had scarcely closed before every seat was empty. The little girls jumped or tumbled out of theirs; the older ones wasted no time in deserting theirs. There was a rush toward the boxes. Sara had bent over one of them with a delighted face. + + "These are books, I know," she said. + + The little children broke into a rueful murmur, and Ermengarde looked aghast. + + "Does your papa send you books for a birthday present?" she exclaimed. "Why, he's as bad as mine. Don't open them, Sara." + + "I like them," Sara laughed, but she turned to the biggest box. When she took out the Last Doll it was so magnificent that the children uttered delighted groans of joy, and actually drew back to gaze at it in breathless rapture. + + "She is almost as big as Lottie," someone gasped. + + Lottie clapped her hands and danced about, giggling. + + "She's dressed for the theater," said Lavinia. "Her cloak is lined with ermine." + + "Oh," cried Ermengarde, darting forward, "she has an opera-glass in her hand--a blue-and-gold one!" + + "Here is her trunk," said Sara. "Let us open it and look at her things." + + She sat down upon the floor and turned the key. The children crowded clamoring around her, as she lifted tray after tray and revealed their contents. Never had the schoolroom been in such an uproar. There were lace collars and silk stockings and handkerchiefs; there was a jewel case containing a necklace and a tiara which looked quite as if they were made of real diamonds; there was a long sealskin and muff, there were ball dresses and walking dresses and visiting dresses; there were hats and tea gowns and fans. Even Lavinia and Jessie forgot that they were too elderly to care for dolls, and uttered exclamations of delight and caught up things to look at them. + + "Suppose," Sara said, as she stood by the table, putting a large, black-velvet hat on the impassively smiling owner of all these splendors--"suppose she understands human talk and feels proud of being admired." + + "You are always supposing things," said Lavinia, and her air was very superior. + + "I know I am," answered Sara, undisturbedly. "I like it. There is nothing so nice as supposing. It's almost like being a fairy. If you suppose anything hard enough it seems as if it were real." + + "It's all very well to suppose things if you have everything," said Lavinia. "Could you suppose and pretend if you were a beggar and lived in a garret?" + + Sara stopped arranging the Last Doll's ostrich plumes, and looked thoughtful. + + "I BELIEVE I could," she said. "If one was a beggar, one would have to suppose and pretend all the time. But it mightn't be easy." + + She often thought afterward how strange it was that just as she had finished saying this--just at that very moment--Miss Amelia came into the room. + + "Sara," she said, "your papa's solicitor, Mr. Barrow, has called to see Miss Minchin, and, as she must talk to him alone and the refreshments are laid in her parlor, you had all better come and have your feast now, so that my sister can have her interview here in the schoolroom." + + Refreshments were not likely to be disdained at any hour, and many pairs of eyes gleamed. Miss Amelia arranged the procession into decorum, and then, with Sara at her side heading it, she led it away, leaving the Last Doll sitting upon a chair with the glories of her wardrobe scattered about her; dresses and coats hung upon chair backs, piles of lace-frilled petticoats lying upon their seats. + + Becky, who was not expected to partake of refreshments, had the indiscretion to linger a moment to look at these beauties--it really was an indiscretion. + + "Go back to your work, Becky," Miss Amelia had said; but she had stopped to pick up reverently first a muff and then a coat, and while she stood looking at them adoringly, she heard Miss Minchin upon the threshold, and, being smitten with terror at the thought of being accused of taking liberties, she rashly darted under the table, which hid her by its tablecloth. + + Miss Minchin came into the room, accompanied by a sharp- featured, dry little gentleman, who looked rather disturbed. Miss Minchin herself also looked rather disturbed, it must be admitted, and she gazed at the dry little gentleman with an irritated and puzzled expression. + + She sat down with stiff dignity, and waved him to a chair. + + "Pray, be seated, Mr. Barrow," she said. + + Mr. Barrow did not sit down at once. His attention seemed attracted by the Last Doll and the things which surrounded her. He settled his eyeglasses and looked at them in nervous disapproval. The Last Doll herself did not seem to mind this in the least. She merely sat upright and returned his gaze indifferently. + + "A hundred pounds," Mr. Barrow remarked succinctly. "All expensive material, and made at a Parisian modiste's. He spent money lavishly enough, that young man." + + Miss Minchin felt offended. This seemed to be a disparagement of her best patron and was a liberty. + + Even solicitors had no right to take liberties. + + "I beg your pardon, Mr. Barrow," she said stiffly. "I do not understand." + + "Birthday presents," said Mr. Barrow in the same critical manner, "to a child eleven years old! Mad extravagance, I call it." + + Miss Minchin drew herself up still more rigidly. + + "Captain Crewe is a man of fortune," she said. "The diamond mines alone--" + + Mr. Barrow wheeled round upon her. "Diamond mines!" he broke out. "There are none! Never were!" + + Miss Minchin actually got up from her chair. + + "What!" she cried. "What do you mean?" + + "At any rate," answered Mr. Barrow, quite snappishly, "it would have been much better if there never had been any." + + "Any diamond mines?" ejaculated Miss Minchin, catching at the back of a chair and feeling as if a splendid dream was fading away from her. + + "Diamond mines spell ruin oftener than they spell wealth," said Mr. Barrow. "When a man is in the hands of a very dear friend and is not a businessman himself, he had better steer clear of the dear friend's diamond mines, or gold mines, or any other kind of mines dear friends want his money to put into. The late Captain Crewe--" + + Here Miss Minchin stopped him with a gasp. + + "The LATE Captain Crewe!" she cried out. "The LATE! You don't come to tell me that Captain Crewe is--" + + "He's dead, ma'am," Mr. Barrow answered with jerky brusqueness. "Died of jungle fever and business troubles combined. The jungle fever might not have killed him if he had not been driven mad by the business troubles, and the business troubles might not have put an end to him if the jungle fever had not assisted. Captain Crewe is dead!" + + Miss Minchin dropped into her chair again. The words he had spoken filled her with alarm. + + "What WERE his business troubles?" she said. "What WERE they?" + + "Diamond mines," answered Mr. Barrow, "and dear friends--and ruin." + + Miss Minchin lost her breath. + + "Ruin!" she gasped out. + + "Lost every penny. That young man had too much money. The dear friend was mad on the subject of the diamond mine. He put all his own money into it, and all Captain Crewe's. Then the dear friend ran away--Captain Crewe was already stricken with fever when the news came. The shock was too much for him. He died delirious, raving about his little girl--and didn't leave a penny." + + Now Miss Minchin understood, and never had she received such a blow in her life. Her show pupil, her show patron, swept away from the Select Seminary at one blow. She felt as if she had been outraged and robbed, and that Captain Crewe and Sara and Mr. Barrow were equally to blame. + + "Do you mean to tell me," she cried out, "that he left NOTHING! That Sara will have no fortune! That the child is a beggar! That she is left on my hands a little pauper instead of an heiress?" + + Mr. Barrow was a shrewd businessman, and felt it as well to make his own freedom from responsibility quite clear without any delay. + + "She is certainly left a beggar," he replied. "And she is certainly left on your hands, ma'am--as she hasn't a relation in the world that we know of." + + Miss Minchin started forward. She looked as if she was going to open the door and rush out of the room to stop the festivities going on joyfully and rather noisily that moment over the refreshments. + + "It is monstrous!" she said. "She's in my sitting room at this moment, dressed in silk gauze and lace petticoats, giving a party at my expense." + + "She's giving it at your expense, madam, if she's giving it," said Mr. Barrow, calmly. "Barrow & Skipworth are not responsible for anything. There never was a cleaner sweep made of a man's fortune. Captain Crewe died without paying OUR last bill--and it was a big one." + + Miss Minchin turned back from the door in increased indignation. This was worse than anyone could have dreamed of its being. + + "That is what has happened to me!" she cried. "I was always so sure of his payments that I went to all sorts of ridiculous expenses for the child. I paid the bills for that ridiculous doll and her ridiculous fantastic wardrobe. The child was to have anything she wanted. She has a carriage and a pony and a maid, and I've paid for all of them since the last cheque came." + + Mr. Barrow evidently did not intend to remain to listen to the story of Miss Minchin's grievances after he had made the position of his firm clear and related the mere dry facts. He did not feel any particular sympathy for irate keepers of boarding schools. + + "You had better not pay for anything more, ma'am," he remarked, "unless you want to make presents to the young lady. No one will remember you. She hasn't a brass farthing to call her own." + + "But what am I to do?" demanded Miss Minchin, as if she felt it entirely his duty to make the matter right. "What am I to do?" + + "There isn't anything to do," said Mr. Barrow, folding up his eyeglasses and slipping them into his pocket. "Captain Crewe is dead. The child is left a pauper. Nobody is responsible for her but you." + + "I am not responsible for her, and I refuse to be made responsible!" + + Miss Minchin became quite white with rage. + + Mr. Barrow turned to go. + + "I have nothing to do with that, madam," he said un- interestedly. "Barrow & Skipworth are not responsible. Very sorry the thing has happened, of course." + + "If you think she is to be foisted off on me, you are greatly mistaken," Miss Minchin gasped. "I have been robbed and cheated; I will turn her into the street!" + + If she had not been so furious, she would have been too discreet to say quite so much. She saw herself burdened with an extravagantly brought-up child whom she had always resented, and she lost all self-control. + + Mr. Barrow undisturbedly moved toward the door. + + "I wouldn't do that, madam," he commented; "it wouldn't look well. Unpleasant story to get about in connection with the establishment. Pupil bundled out penniless and without friends." + + He was a clever business man, and he knew what he was saying. He also knew that Miss Minchin was a business woman, and would be shrewd enough to see the truth. She could not afford to do a thing which would make people speak of her as cruel and hard- hearted. + + "Better keep her and make use of her," he added. "She's a clever child, I believe. You can get a good deal out of her as she grows older." + + "I will get a good deal out of her before she grows older!" exclaimed Miss Minchin. + + "I am sure you will, ma'am," said Mr. Barrow, with a little sinister smile. "I am sure you will. Good morning!" + + He bowed himself out and closed the door, and it must be confessed that Miss Minchin stood for a few moments and glared at it. What he had said was quite true. She knew it. She had absolutely no redress. Her show pupil had melted into nothingness, leaving only a friendless, beggared little girl. Such money as she herself had advanced was lost and could not be regained. + + And as she stood there breathless under her sense of injury, there fell upon her ears a burst of gay voices from her own sacred room, which had actually been given up to the feast. She could at least stop this. + + But as she started toward the door it was opened by Miss Amelia, who, when she caught sight of the changed, angry face, fell back a step in alarm. + + "What IS the matter, sister?" she ejaculated. + + Miss Minchin's voice was almost fierce when she answered: + + "Where is Sara Crewe?" + + Miss Amelia was bewildered. + + "Sara!" she stammered. "Why, she's with the children in your room, of course." + + "Has she a black frock in her sumptuous wardrobe?"--in bitter irony. + + "A black frock?" Miss Amelia stammered again. "A BLACK one?" + + "She has frocks of every other color. Has she a black one?" + + Miss Amelia began to turn pale. + + "No--ye-es!" she said. "But it is too short for her. She has only the old black velvet, and she has outgrown it." + + "Go and tell her to take off that preposterous pink silk gauze, and put the black one on, whether it is too short or not. She has done with finery!" + + Then Miss Amelia began to wring her fat hands and cry. + + "Oh, sister!" she sniffed. "Oh, sister! What CAN have happened?" + + Miss Minchin wasted no words. + + "Captain Crewe is dead," she said. "He has died without a penny. That spoiled, pampered, fanciful child is left a pauper on my hands." + + Miss Amelia sat down quite heavily in the nearest chair. + + "Hundreds of pounds have I spent on nonsense for her. And I shall never see a penny of it. Put a stop to this ridiculous party of hers. Go and make her change her frock at once." + + "I?" panted Miss Amelia. "M-must I go and tell her now?" + + "This moment!" was the fierce answer. "Don't sit staring like a goose. Go!" + + Poor Miss Amelia was accustomed to being called a goose. She knew, in fact, that she was rather a goose, and that it was left to geese to do a great many disagreeable things. It was a somewhat embarrassing thing to go into the midst of a room full of delighted children, and tell the giver of the feast that she had suddenly been transformed into a little beggar, and must go upstairs and put on an old black frock which was too small for her. But the thing must be done. This was evidently not the time when questions might be asked. + + She rubbed her eyes with her handkerchief until they looked quite red. After which she got up and went out of the room, without venturing to say another word. When her older sister looked and spoke as she had done just now, the wisest course to pursue was to obey orders without any comment. Miss Minchin walked across the room. She spoke to herself aloud without knowing that she was doing it. During the last year the story of the diamond mines had suggested all sorts of possibilities to her. Even proprietors of seminaries might make fortunes in stocks, with the aid of owners of mines. And now, instead of looking forward to gains, she was left to look back upon losses. + + "The Princess Sara, indeed!" she said. "The child has been pampered as if she were a QUEEN." She was sweeping angrily past the corner table as she said it, and the next moment she started at the sound of a loud, sobbing sniff which issued from under the cover. + + "What is that!" she exclaimed angrily. The loud, sobbing sniff was heard again, and she stooped and raised the hanging folds of the table cover. + + "How DARE you!" she cried out. "How dare you! Come out immediately!" + + It was poor Becky who crawled out, and her cap was knocked on one side, and her face was red with repressed crying. + + "If you please, 'm--it's me, mum," she explained. "I know I hadn't ought to. But I was lookin' at the doll, mum--an' I was frightened when you come in--an' slipped under the table." + + "You have been there all the time, listening," said Miss Minchin. + + "No, mum," Becky protested, bobbing curtsies. "Not listenin'--I thought I could slip out without your noticin', but I couldn't an' I had to stay. But I didn't listen, mum--I wouldn't for nothin'. But I couldn't help hearin'." + + Suddenly it seemed almost as if she lost all fear of the awful lady before her. She burst into fresh tears. + + "Oh, please, 'm," she said; "I dare say you'll give me warnin, mum--but I'm so sorry for poor Miss Sara--I'm so sorry!" + + "Leave the room!" ordered Miss Minchin. + + Becky curtsied again, the tears openly streaming down her cheeks. + + "Yes, 'm; I will, 'm," she said, trembling; "but oh, I just wanted to arst you: Miss Sara--she's been such a rich young lady, an' she's been waited on, 'and and foot; an' what will she do now, mum, without no maid? If--if, oh please, would you let me wait on her after I've done my pots an' kettles? I'd do 'em that quick--if you'd let me wait on her now she's poor. Oh," breaking out afresh, "poor little Miss Sara, mum--that was called a princess." + + Somehow, she made Miss Minchin feel more angry than ever. That the very scullery maid should range herself on the side of this child--whom she realized more fully than ever that she had never liked--was too much. She actually stamped her foot. + + "No--certainly not," she said. "She will wait on herself, and on other people, too. Leave the room this instant, or you'll leave your place." + + Becky threw her apron over her head and fled. She ran out of the room and down the steps into the scullery, and there she sat down among her pots and kettles, and wept as if her heart would break. + + "It's exactly like the ones in the stories," she wailed. "Them pore princess ones that was drove into the world." + + Miss Minchin had never looked quite so still and hard as she did when Sara came to her, a few hours later, in response to a message she had sent her. + + Even by that time it seemed to Sara as if the birthday party had either been a dream or a thing which had happened years ago, and had happened in the life of quite another little girl. + + Every sign of the festivities had been swept away; the holly had been removed from the schoolroom walls, and the forms and desks put back into their places. Miss Minchin's sitting room looked as it always did--all traces of the feast were gone, and Miss Minchin had resumed her usual dress. The pupils had been ordered to lay aside their party frocks; and this having been done, they had returned to the schoolroom and huddled together in groups, whispering and talking excitedly. + + "Tell Sara to come to my room," Miss Minchin had said to her sister. "And explain to her clearly that I will have no crying or unpleasant scenes." + + "Sister," replied Miss Amelia, "she is the strangest child I ever saw. She has actually made no fuss at all. You remember she made none when Captain Crewe went back to India. When I told her what had happened, she just stood quite still and looked at me without making a sound. Her eyes seemed to get bigger and bigger, and she went quite pale. When I had finished, she still stood staring for a few seconds, and then her chin began to shake, and she turned round and ran out of the room and upstairs. Several of the other children began to cry, but she did not seem to hear them or to be alive to anything but just what I was saying. It made me feel quite queer not to be answered; and when you tell anything sudden and strange, you expect people will say SOMETHING--whatever it is." + + Nobody but Sara herself ever knew what had happened in her room after she had run upstairs and locked her door. In fact, she herself scarcely remembered anything but that she walked up and down, saying over and over again to herself in a voice which did not seem her own, "My papa is dead! My papa is dead!" + + Once she stopped before Emily, who sat watching her from her chair, and cried out wildly, "Emily! Do you hear? Do you hear-- papa is dead? He is dead in India--thousands of miles away." + + When she came into Miss Minchin's sitting room in answer to her summons, her face was white and her eyes had dark rings around them. Her mouth was set as if she did not wish it to reveal what she had suffered and was suffering. She did not look in the least like the rose-colored butterfly child who had flown about from one of her treasures to the other in the decorated schoolroom. She looked instead a strange, desolate, almost grotesque little figure. + + She had put on, without Mariette's help, the cast-aside black- velvet frock. It was too short and tight, and her slender legs looked long and thin, showing themselves from beneath the brief skirt. As she had not found a piece of black ribbon, her short, thick, black hair tumbled loosely about her face and contrasted strongly with its pallor. She held Emily tightly in one arm, and Emily was swathed in a piece of black material. + + "Put down your doll," said Miss Minchin. "What do you mean by bringing her here?" + + "No," Sara answered. "I will not put her down. She is all I have. My papa gave her to me." + + She had always made Miss Minchin feel secretly uncomfortable, and she did so now. She did not speak with rudeness so much as with a cold steadiness with which Miss Minchin felt it difficult to cope--perhaps because she knew she was doing a heartless and inhuman thing. + + "You will have no time for dolls in future," she said. "You will have to work and improve yourself and make yourself useful." + + Sara kept her big, strange eyes fixed on her, and said not a word. + + "Everything will be very different now," Miss Minchin went on. "I suppose Miss Amelia has explained matters to you." + + "Yes," answered Sara. "My papa is dead. He left me no money. I am quite poor." + + "You are a beggar," said Miss Minchin, her temper rising at the recollection of what all this meant. "It appears that you have no relations and no home, and no one to take care of you." + + For a moment the thin, pale little face twitched, but Sara again said nothing. + + "What are you staring at?" demanded Miss Minchin, sharply. "Are you so stupid that you cannot understand? I tell you that you are quite alone in the world, and have no one to do anything for you, unless I choose to keep you here out of charity." + + "I understand," answered Sara, in a low tone; and there was a sound as if she had gulped down something which rose in her throat. "I understand." + + "That doll," cried Miss Minchin, pointing to the splendid birthday gift seated near--"that ridiculous doll, with all her nonsensical, extravagant things--I actually paid the bill for her!" + + Sara turned her head toward the chair. + + "The Last Doll," she said. "The Last Doll." And her little mournful voice had an odd sound. + + "The Last Doll, indeed!" said Miss Minchin. "And she is mine, not yours. Everything you own is mine." + + "Please take it away from me, then," said Sara. "I do not want it." + + If she had cried and sobbed and seemed frightened, Miss Minchin might almost have had more patience with her. She was a woman who liked to domineer and feel her power, and as she looked at Sara's pale little steadfast face and heard her proud little voice, she quite felt as if her might was being set at naught. + + "Don't put on grand airs," she said. "The time for that sort of thing is past. You are not a princess any longer. Your carriage and your pony will be sent away--your maid will be dismissed. You will wear your oldest and plainest clothes--your extravagant ones are no longer suited to your station. You are like Becky--you must work for your living." + + To her surprise, a faint gleam of light came into the child's eyes--a shade of relief. + + "Can I work?" she said. "If I can work it will not matter so much. What can I do?" + + "You can do anything you are told," was the answer. "You are a sharp child, and pick up things readily. If you make yourself useful I may let you stay here. You speak French well, and you can help with the younger children." + + "May I?" exclaimed Sara. "Oh, please let me! I know I can teach them. I like them, and they like me." + + "Don't talk nonsense about people liking you," said Miss Minchin. "You will have to do more than teach the little ones. You will run errands and help in the kitchen as well as in the schoolroom. If you don't please me, you will be sent away. Remember that. Now go." + + Sara stood still just a moment, looking at her. In her young soul, she was thinking deep and strange things. Then she turned to leave the room. + + "Stop!" said Miss Minchin. "Don't you intend to thank me?" + + Sara paused, and all the deep, strange thoughts surged up in her breast. + + "What for?" she said. + + "For my kindness to you," replied Miss Minchin. "For my kindness in giving you a home." + + Sara made two or three steps toward her. Her thin little chest heaved up and down, and she spoke in a strange un-childishly fierce way. + + "You are not kind," she said. "You are NOT kind, and it is NOT a home." And she had turned and run out of the room before Miss Minchin could stop her or do anything but stare after her with stony anger. + + She went up the stairs slowly, but panting for breath and she held Emily tightly against her side. + + "I wish she could talk," she said to herself. "If she could speak--if she could speak!" + + She meant to go to her room and lie down on the tiger-skin, with her cheek upon the great cat's head, and look into the fire and think and think and think. But just before she reached the landing Miss Amelia came out of the door and closed it behind her, and stood before it, looking nervous and awkward. The truth was that she felt secretly ashamed of the thing she had been ordered to do. + + "You--you are not to go in there," she said. + + "Not go in?" exclaimed Sara, and she fell back a pace. + + "That is not your room now," Miss Amelia answered, reddening a little. + + Somehow, all at once, Sara understood. She realized that this was the beginning of the change Miss Minchin had spoken of. + + "Where is my room?" she asked, hoping very much that her voice did not shake. + + "You are to sleep in the attic next to Becky." + + Sara knew where it was. Becky had told her about it. She turned, and mounted up two flights of stairs. The last one was narrow, and covered with shabby strips of old carpet. She felt as if she were walking away and leaving far behind her the world in which that other child, who no longer seemed herself, had lived. This child, in her short, tight old frock, climbing the stairs to the attic, was quite a different creature. + + When she reached the attic door and opened it, her heart gave a dreary little thump. Then she shut the door and stood against it and looked about her. + + Yes, this was another world. The room had a slanting roof and was whitewashed. The whitewash was dingy and had fallen off in places. There was a rusty grate, an old iron bedstead, and a hard bed covered with a faded coverlet. Some pieces of furniture too much worn to be used downstairs had been sent up. Under the skylight in the roof, which showed nothing but an oblong piece of dull gray sky, there stood an old battered red footstool. Sara went to it and sat down. She seldom cried. She did not cry now. She laid Emily across her knees and put her face down upon her and her arms around her, and sat there, her little black head resting on the black draperies, not saying one word, not making one sound. + + And as she sat in this silence there came a low tap at the door-- such a low, humble one that she did not at first hear it, and, indeed, was not roused until the door was timidly pushed open and a poor tear-smeared face appeared peeping round it. It was Becky's face, and Becky had been crying furtively for hours and rubbing her eyes with her kitchen apron until she looked strange indeed. + + "Oh, miss," she said under her breath. "Might I--would you allow me--jest to come in?" + + Sara lifted her head and looked at her. She tried to begin a smile, and somehow she could not. Suddenly--and it was all through the loving mournfulness of Becky's streaming eyes--her face looked more like a child's not so much too old for her years. She held out her hand and gave a little sob. + + "Oh, Becky," she said. "I told you we were just the same--only two little girls--just two little girls. You see how true it is. There's no difference now. I'm not a princess anymore." + + Becky ran to her and caught her hand, and hugged it to her breast, kneeling beside her and sobbing with love and pain. + + "Yes, miss, you are," she cried, and her words were all broken. "Whats'ever 'appens to you--whats'ever--you'd be a princess all the same--an' nothin' couldn't make you nothin' different." + + + + 8 + + In the Attic + + The first night she spent in her attic was a thing Sara never forgot. During its passing she lived through a wild, unchildlike woe of which she never spoke to anyone about her. There was no one who would have understood. It was, indeed, well for her that as she lay awake in the darkness her mind was forcibly distracted, now and then, by the strangeness of her surroundings. It was, perhaps, well for her that she was reminded by her small body of material things. If this had not been so, the anguish of her young mind might have been too great for a child to bear. But, really, while the night was passing she scarcely knew that she had a body at all or remembered any other thing than one. + + "My papa is dead!" she kept whispering to herself. "My papa is dead!" + + It was not until long afterward that she realized that her bed had been so hard that she turned over and over in it to find a place to rest, that the darkness seemed more intense than any she had ever known, and that the wind howled over the roof among the chimneys like something which wailed aloud. Then there was something worse. This was certain scufflings and scratchings and squeakings in the walls and behind the skirting boards. She knew what they meant, because Becky had described them. They meant rats and mice who were either fighting with each other or playing together. Once or twice she even heard sharp-toed feet scurrying across the floor, and she remembered in those after days, when she recalled things, that when first she heard them she started up in bed and sat trembling, and when she lay down again covered her head with the bedclothes. + + The change in her life did not come about gradually, but was made all at once. + + "She must begin as she is to go on," Miss Minchin said to Miss Amelia. "She must be taught at once what she is to expect." + + Mariette had left the house the next morning. The glimpse Sara caught of her sitting room, as she passed its open door, showed her that everything had been changed. Her ornaments and luxuries had been removed, and a bed had been placed in a corner to transform it into a new pupil's bedroom. + + When she went down to breakfast she saw that her seat at Miss Minchin's side was occupied by Lavinia, and Miss Minchin spoke to her coldly. + + "You will begin your new duties, Sara," she said, "by taking your seat with the younger children at a smaller table. You must keep them quiet, and see that they behave well and do not waste their food. You ought to have been down earlier. Lottie has already upset her tea." + + That was the beginning, and from day to day the duties given to her were added to. She taught the younger children French and heard their other lessons, and these were the least of her labors. It was found that she could be made use of in numberless directions. She could be sent on errands at any time and in all weathers. She could be told to do things other people neglected. The cook and the housemaids took their tone from Miss Minchin, and rather enjoyed ordering about the "young one" who had been made so much fuss over for so long. They were not servants of the best class, and had neither good manners nor good tempers, and it was frequently convenient to have at hand someone on whom blame could be laid. + + During the first month or two, Sara thought that her willingness to do things as well as she could, and her silence under reproof, might soften those who drove her so hard. In her proud little heart she wanted them to see that she was trying to earn her living and not accepting charity. But the time came when she saw that no one was softened at all; and the more willing she was to do as she was told, the more domineering and exacting careless housemaids became, and the more ready a scolding cook was to blame her. + + If she had been older, Miss Minchin would have given her the bigger girls to teach and saved money by dismissing an instructress; but while she remained and looked like a child, she could be made more useful as a sort of little superior errand girl and maid of all work. An ordinary errand boy would not have been so clever and reliable. Sara could be trusted with difficult commissions and complicated messages. She could even go and pay bills, and she combined with this the ability to dust a room well and to set things in order. + + Her own lessons became things of the past. She was taught nothing, and only after long and busy days spent in running here and there at everybody's orders was she grudgingly allowed to go into the deserted schoolroom, with a pile of old books, and study alone at night. + + "If I do not remind myself of the things I have learned, perhaps I may forget them," she said to herself. "I am almost a scullery maid, and if I am a scullery maid who knows nothing, I shall be like poor Becky. I wonder if I could QUITE forget and begin to drop my H'S and not remember that Henry the Eighth had six wives." + + One of the most curious things in her new existence was her changed position among the pupils. Instead of being a sort of small royal personage among them, she no longer seemed to be one of their number at all. She was kept so constantly at work that she scarcely ever had an opportunity of speaking to any of them, and she could not avoid seeing that Miss Minchin preferred that she should live a life apart from that of the occupants of the schoolroom. + + "I will not have her forming intimacies and talking to the other children," that lady said. "Girls like a grievance, and if she begins to tell romantic stories about herself, she will become an ill-used heroine, and parents will be given a wrong impression. It is better that she should live a separate life--one suited to her circumstances. I am giving her a home, and that is more than she has any right to expect from me." + + Sara did not expect much, and was far too proud to try to continue to be intimate with girls who evidently felt rather awkward and uncertain about her. The fact was that Miss Minchin's pupils were a set of dull, matter-of-fact young people. They were accustomed to being rich and comfortable, and as Sara's frocks grew shorter and shabbier and queerer-looking, and it became an established fact that she wore shoes with holes in them and was sent out to buy groceries and carry them through the streets in a basket on her arm when the cook wanted them in a hurry, they felt rather as if, when they spoke to her, they were addressing an under servant. + + "To think that she was the girl with the diamond mines, Lavinia commented. "She does look an object. And she's queerer than ever. I never liked her much, but I can't bear that way she has now of looking at people without speaking--just as if she was finding them out." + + "I am," said Sara, promptly, when she heard of this. "That's what I look at some people for. I like to know about them. I think them over afterward." + + The truth was that she had saved herself annoyance several times by keeping her eye on Lavinia, who was quite ready to make mischief, and would have been rather pleased to have made it for the ex-show pupil. + + Sara never made any mischief herself, or interfered with anyone. She worked like a drudge; she tramped through the wet streets, carrying parcels and baskets; she labored with the childish inattention of the little ones' French lessons; as she became shabbier and more forlorn-looking, she was told that she had better take her meals downstairs; she was treated as if she was nobody's concern, and her heart grew proud and sore, but she never told anyone what she felt. + + "Soldiers don't complain," she would say between her small, shut teeth, "I am not going to do it; I will pretend this is part of a war." + + But there were hours when her child heart might almost have broken with loneliness but for three people. + + The first, it must be owned, was Becky--just Becky. Throughout all that first night spent in the garret, she had felt a vague comfort in knowing that on the other side of the wall in which the rats scuffled and squeaked there was another young human creature. And during the nights that followed the sense of comfort grew. They had little chance to speak to each other during the day. Each had her own tasks to perform, and any attempt at conversation would have been regarded as a tendency to loiter and lose time. "Don't mind me, miss," Becky whispered during the first morning, "if I don't say nothin' polite. Some un'd be down on us if I did. I MEANS `please' an' `thank you' an' `beg pardon,' but I dassn't to take time to say it." + + But before daybreak she used to slip into Sara's attic and button her dress and give her such help as she required before she went downstairs to light the kitchen fire. And when night came Sara always heard the humble knock at her door which meant that her handmaid was ready to help her again if she was needed. During the first weeks of her grief Sara felt as if she were too stupefied to talk, so it happened that some time passed before they saw each other much or exchanged visits. Becky's heart told her that it was best that people in trouble should be left alone. + + The second of the trio of comforters was Ermengarde, but odd things happened before Ermengarde found her place. + + When Sara's mind seemed to awaken again to the life about her, she realized that she had forgotten that an Ermengarde lived in the world. The two had always been friends, but Sara had felt as if she were years the older. It could not be contested that Ermengarde was as dull as she was affectionate. She clung to Sara in a simple, helpless way; she brought her lessons to her that she might be helped; she listened to her every word and besieged her with requests for stories. But she had nothing interesting to say herself, and she loathed books of every description. She was, in fact, not a person one would remember when one was caught in the storm of a great trouble, and Sara forgot her. + + It had been all the easier to forget her because she had been suddenly called home for a few weeks. When she came back she did not see Sara for a day or two, and when she met her for the first time she encountered her coming down a corridor with her arms full of garments which were to be taken downstairs to be mended. Sara herself had already been taught to mend them. She looked pale and unlike herself, and she was attired in the queer, outgrown frock whose shortness showed so much thin black leg. + + Ermengarde was too slow a girl to be equal to such a situation. She could not think of anything to say. She knew what had happened, but, somehow, she had never imagined Sara could look like this--so odd and poor and almost like a servant. It made her quite miserable, and she could do nothing but break into a short hysterical laugh and exclaim--aimlessly and as if without any meaning, "Oh, Sara, is that you?" + + "Yes," answered Sara, and suddenly a strange thought passed through her mind and made her face flush. She held the pile of garments in her arms, and her chin rested upon the top of it to keep it steady. Something in the look of her straight-gazing eyes made Ermengarde lose her wits still more. She felt as if Sara had changed into a new kind of girl, and she had never known her before. Perhaps it was because she had suddenly grown poor and had to mend things and work like Becky. + + "Oh," she stammered. "How--how are you?" + + "I don't know," Sara replied. "How are you?" + + "I'm--I'm quite well," said Ermengarde, overwhelmed with shyness. Then spasmodically she thought of something to say which seemed more intimate. "Are you--are you very unhappy?" she said in a rush. + + Then Sara was guilty of an injustice. Just at that moment her torn heart swelled within her, and she felt that if anyone was as stupid as that, one had better get away from her. + + "What do you think?" she said. "Do you think I am very happy?" And she marched past her without another word. + + In course of time she realized that if her wretchedness had not made her forget things, she would have known that poor, dull Ermengarde was not to be blamed for her unready, awkward ways. She was always awkward, and the more she felt, the more stupid she was given to being. + + But the sudden thought which had flashed upon her had made her over-sensitive. + + "She is like the others," she had thought. "She does not really want to talk to me. She knows no one does." + + So for several weeks a barrier stood between them. When they met by chance Sara looked the other way, and Ermengarde felt too stiff and embarrassed to speak. Sometimes they nodded to each other in passing, but there were times when they did not even exchange a greeting. + + "If she would rather not talk to me," Sara thought, "I will keep out of her way. Miss Minchin makes that easy enough." + + Miss Minchin made it so easy that at last they scarcely saw each other at all. At that time it was noticed that Ermengarde was more stupid than ever, and that she looked listless and unhappy. She used to sit in the window-seat, huddled in a heap, and stare out of the window without speaking. Once Jessie, who was passing, stopped to look at her curiously. + + "What are you crying for, Ermengarde?" she asked. + + "I'm not crying," answered Ermengarde, in a muffled, unsteady voice. + + "You are," said Jessie. "A great big tear just rolled down the bridge of your nose and dropped off at the end of it. And there goes another." + + "Well," said Ermengarde, "I'm miserable--and no one need interfere." And she turned her plump back and took out her handkerchief and boldly hid her face in it. + + That night, when Sara went to her attic, she was later than usual. She had been kept at work until after the hour at which the pupils went to bed, and after that she had gone to her lessons in the lonely schoolroom. When she reached the top of the stairs, she was surprised to see a glimmer of light coming from under the attic door. + + "Nobody goes there but myself," she thought quickly, "but someone has lighted a candle." + + Someone had, indeed, lighted a candle, and it was not burning in the kitchen candlestick she was expected to use, but in one of those belonging to the pupils' bedrooms. The someone was sitting upon the battered footstool, and was dressed in her nightgown and wrapped up in a red shawl. It was Ermengarde. + + "Ermengarde!" cried Sara. She was so startled that she was almost frightened. "You will get into trouble." + + Ermengarde stumbled up from her footstool. She shuffled across the attic in her bedroom slippers, which were too large for her. Her eyes and nose were pink with crying. + + "I know I shall--if I'm found out." she said. "But I don't care--I don't care a bit. Oh, Sara, please tell me. What is the matter? Why don't you like me any more?" + + Something in her voice made the familiar lump rise in Sara's throat. It was so affectionate and simple--so like the old Ermengarde who had asked her to be "best friends." It sounded as if she had not meant what she had seemed to mean during these past weeks. + + "I do like you," Sara answered. "I thought--you see, everything is different now. I thought you--were different. + + Ermengarde opened her wet eyes wide. + + "Why, it was you who were different!" she cried. "You didn't want to talk to me. I didn't know what to do. It was you who were different after I came back." + + Sara thought a moment. She saw she had made a mistake. + + "I AM different," she explained, "though not in the way you think. Miss Minchin does not want me to talk to the girls. Most of them don't want to talk to me. I thought--perhaps--you didn't. So I tried to keep out of your way." + + "Oh, Sara," Ermengarde almost wailed in her reproachful dismay. And then after one more look they rushed into each other's arms. It must be confessed that Sara's small black head lay for some minutes on the shoulder covered by the red shawl. When Ermengarde had seemed to desert her, she had felt horribly lonely. + + Afterward they sat down upon the floor together, Sara clasping her knees with her arms, and Ermengarde rolled up in her shawl. Ermengarde looked at the odd, big-eyed little face adoringly. + + "I couldn't bear it any more," she said. "I dare say you could live without me, Sara; but I couldn't live without you. I was nearly DEAD. So tonight, when I was crying under the bedclothes, I thought all at once of creeping up here and just begging you to let us be friends again." + + "You are nicer than I am," said Sara. "I was too proud to try and make friends. You see, now that trials have come, they have shown that I am NOT a nice child. I was afraid they would. Perhaps"--wrinkling her forehead wisely--"that is what they were sent for." + + "I don't see any good in them," said Ermengarde stoutly. + + "Neither do I--to speak the truth," admitted Sara, frankly. "But I suppose there MIGHT be good in things, even if we don't see it. There MIGHT"--DOUBTFULLY--"Be good in Miss Minchin." + + Ermengarde looked round the attic with a rather fearsome curiosity. + + "Sara," she said, "do you think you can bear living here?" + + Sara looked round also. + + "If I pretend it's quite different, I can," she answered; "or if I pretend it is a place in a story." + + She spoke slowly. Her imagination was beginning to work for her. It had not worked for her at all since her troubles had come upon her. She had felt as if it had been stunned. + + "Other people have lived in worse places. Think of the Count of Monte Cristo in the dungeons of the Chateau d'If. And think of the people in the Bastille!" + + "The Bastille," half whispered Ermengarde, watching her and beginning to be fascinated. She remembered stories of the French Revolution which Sara had been able to fix in her mind by her dramatic relation of them. No one but Sara could have done it. + + A well-known glow came into Sara's eyes. + + "Yes," she said, hugging her knees, "that will be a good place to pretend about. I am a prisoner in the Bastille. I have been here for years and years--and years; and everybody has forgotten about me. Miss Minchin is the jailer--and Becky"--a sudden light adding itself to the glow in her eyes--"Becky is the prisoner in the next cell." + + She turned to Ermengarde, looking quite like the old Sara. + + "I shall pretend that," she said; "and it will be a great comfort." + + Ermengarde was at once enraptured and awed. + + "And will you tell me all about it?" she said. "May I creep up here at night, whenever it is safe, and hear the things you have made up in the day? It will seem as if we were more `best friends' than ever." + + "Yes," answered Sara, nodding. "Adversity tries people, and mine has tried you and proved how nice you are." + + + + 9 + + Melchisedec + + The third person in the trio was Lottie. She was a small thing and did not know what adversity meant, and was much bewildered by the alteration she saw in her young adopted mother. She had heard it rumored that strange things had happened to Sara, but she could not understand why she looked different--why she wore an old black frock and came into the schoolroom only to teach instead of to sit in her place of honor and learn lessons herself. There had been much whispering among the little ones when it had been discovered that Sara no longer lived in the rooms in which Emily had so long sat in state. Lottie's chief difficulty was that Sara said so little when one asked her questions. At seven mysteries must be made very clear if one is to understand them. + + "Are you very poor now, Sara?" she had asked confidentially the first morning her friend took charge of the small French class. "Are you as poor as a beggar?" She thrust a fat hand into the slim one and opened round, tearful eyes. "I don't want you to be as poor as a beggar." + + She looked as if she was going to cry. And Sara hurriedly consoled her. + + "Beggars have nowhere to live," she said courageously. "I have a place to live in." + + "Where do you live?" persisted Lottle. "The new girl sleeps in your room, and it isn't pretty any more." + + "I live in another room," said Sara. + + "Is it a nice one?" inquired Lottie. "I want to go and see it." + + "You must not talk," said Sara. "Miss Minchin is looking at us. She will be angry with me for letting you whisper." + + She had found out already that she was to be held accountable for everything which was objected to. If the children were not attentive, if they talked, if they were restless, it was she who would be reproved. + + But Lottie was a determined little person. If Sara would not tell her where she lived, she would find out in some other way. She talked to her small companions and hung about the elder girls and listened when they were gossiping; and acting upon certain information they had unconsciously let drop, she started late one afternoon on a voyage of discovery, climbing stairs she had never known the existence of, until she reached the attic floor. There she found two doors near each other, and opening one, she saw her beloved Sara standing upon an old table and looking out of a window. + + "Sara!" she cried, aghast. "Mamma Sara!" She was aghast because the attic was so bare and ugly and seemed so far away from all the world. Her short legs had seemed to have been mounting hundreds of stairs. + + Sara turned round at the sound of her voice. It was her turn to be aghast. What would happen now? If Lottie began to cry and any one chanced to hear, they were both lost. She jumped down from her table and ran to the child. + + "Don't cry and make a noise," she implored. "I shall be scolded if you do, and I have been scolded all day. It's--it's not such a bad room, Lottie." + + "Isn't it?" gasped Lottie, and as she looked round it she bit her lip. She was a spoiled child yet, but she was fond enough of her adopted parent to make an effort to control herself for her sake. Then, somehow, it was quite possible that any place in which Sara lived might turn out to be nice. "Why isn't it, Sara?" she almost whispered. + + Sara hugged her close and tried to laugh. There was a sort of comfort in the warmth of the plump, childish body. She had had a hard day and had been staring out of the windows with hot eyes. + + "You can see all sorts of things you can't see downstairs," she said. + + "What sort of things?" demanded Lottie, with that curiosity Sara could always awaken even in bigger girls. + + "Chimneys--quite close to us--with smoke curling up in wreaths and clouds and going up into the sky--and sparrows hopping about and talking to each other just as if they were people--and other attic windows where heads may pop out any minute and you can wonder who they belong to. And it all feels as high up--as if it was another world." + + "Oh, let me see it!" cried Lottie. "Lift me up!" + + Sara lifted her up, and they stood on the old table together and leaned on the edge of the flat window in the roof, and looked out. + + Anyone who has not done this does not know what a different world they saw. The slates spread out on either side of them and slanted down into the rain gutter-pipes. The sparrows, being at home there, twittered and hopped about quite without fear. Two of them perched on the chimney top nearest and quarrelled with each other fiercely until one pecked the other and drove him away. The garret window next to theirs was shut because the house next door was empty. + + "I wish someone lived there," Sara said. "It is so close that if there was a little girl in the attic, we could talk to each other through the windows and climb over to see each other, if we were not afraid of falling." + + The sky seemed so much nearer than when one saw it from the street, that Lottie was enchanted. From the attic window, among the chimney pots, the things which were happening in the world below seemed almost unreal. One scarcely believed in the existence of Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia and the schoolroom, and the roll of wheels in the square seemed a sound belonging to another existence. + + "Oh, Sara!" cried Lottie, cuddling in her guarding arm. "I like this attic--I like it! It is nicer than downstairs!" + + "Look at that sparrow," whispered Sara. "I wish I had some crumbs to throw to him." + + "I have some!" came in a little shriek from Lottie. "I have part of a bun in my pocket; I bought it with my penny yesterday, and I saved a bit." + + When they threw out a few crumbs the sparrow jumped and flew away to an adjacent chimney top. He was evidently not accustomed to intimates in attics, and unexpected crumbs startled him. But when Lottie remained quite still and Sara chirped very softly-- almost as if she were a sparrow herself--he saw that the thing which had alarmed him represented hospitality, after all. He put his head on one side, and from his perch on the chimney looked down at the crumbs with twinkling eyes. Lottie could scarcely keep still. + + "Will he come? Will he come?" she whispered. + + "His eyes look as if he would," Sara whispered back. "He is thinking and thinking whether he dare. Yes, he will! Yes, he is coming!" + + He flew down and hopped toward the crumbs, but stopped a few inches away from them, putting his head on one side again, as if reflecting on the chances that Sara and Lottie might turn out to be big cats and jump on him. At last his heart told him they were really nicer than they looked, and he hopped nearer and nearer, darted at the biggest crumb with a lightning peck, seized it, and carried it away to the other side of his chimney. + + "Now he KNOWS", said Sara. "And he will come back for the others." + + He did come back, and even brought a friend, and the friend went away and brought a relative, and among them they made a hearty meal over which they twittered and chattered and exclaimed, stopping every now and then to put their heads on one side and examine Lottie and Sara. Lottie was so delighted that she quite forgot her first shocked impression of the attic. In fact, when she was lifted down from the table and returned to earthly things, as it were, Sara was able to point out to her many beauties in the room which she herself would not have suspected the existence of. + + "It is so little and so high above everything," she said, "that it is almost like a nest in a tree. The slanting ceiling is so funny. See, you can scarcely stand up at this end of the room; and when the morning begins to come I can lie in bed and look right up into the sky through that flat window in the roof. It is like a square patch of light. If the sun is going to shine, little pink clouds float about, and I feel as if I could touch them. And if it rains, the drops patter and patter as if they were saying something nice. Then if there are stars, you can lie and try to count how many go into the patch. It takes such a lot. And just look at that tiny, rusty grate in the corner. If it was polished and there was a fire in it, just think how nice it would be. You see, it's really a beautiful little room." + + She was walking round the small place, holding Lottie's hand and making gestures which described all the beauties she was making herself see. She quite made Lottie see them, too. Lottie could always believe in the things Sara made pictures of. + + "You see," she said, "there could be a thick, soft blue Indian rug on the floor; and in that corner there could be a soft little sofa, with cushions to curl up on; and just over it could be a shelf full of books so that one could reach them easily; and there could be a fur rug before the fire, and hangings on the wall to cover up the whitewash, and pictures. They would have to be little ones, but they could be beautiful; and there could be a lamp with a deep rose-colored shade; and a table in the middle, with things to have tea with; and a little fat copper kettle singing on the hob; and the bed could be quite different. It could be made soft and covered with a lovely silk coverlet. It could be beautiful. And perhaps we could coax the sparrows until we made such friends with them that they would come and peck at the window and ask to be let in." + + "Oh, Sara!" cried Lottie. "I should like to live here!" + + When Sara had persuaded her to go downstairs again, and, after setting her on her way, had come back to her attic, she stood in the middle of it and looked about her. The enchantment of her imaginings for Lottie had died away. The bed was hard and covered with its dingy quilt. The whitewashed wall showed its broken patches, the floor was cold and bare, the grate was broken and rusty, and the battered footstool, tilted sideways on its injured leg, the only seat in the room. She sat down on it for a few minutes and let her head drop in her hands. The mere fact that Lottie had come and gone away again made things seem a little worse--just as perhaps prisoners feel a little more desolate after visitors come and go, leaving them behind. + + "It's a lonely place," she said. "Sometimes it's the loneliest place in the world." + + She was sitting in this way when her attention was attracted by a slight sound near her. She lifted her head to see where it came from, and if she had been a nervous child she would have left her seat on the battered footstool in a great hurry. A large rat was sitting up on his hind quarters and sniffing the air in an interested manner. Some of Lottie's crumbs had dropped upon the floor and their scent had drawn him out of his hole. + + He looked so queer and so like a gray-whiskered dwarf or gnome that Sara was rather fascinated. He looked at her with his bright eyes, as if he were asking a question. He was evidently so doubtful that one of the child's queer thoughts came into her mind. + + "I dare say it is rather hard to be a rat," she mused. "Nobody likes you. People jump and run away and scream out, `Oh, a horrid rat!' I shouldn't like people to scream and jump and say, `Oh, a horrid Sara!' the moment they saw me. And set traps for me, and pretend they were dinner. It's so different to be a sparrow. But nobody asked this rat if he wanted to be a rat when he was made. Nobody said, `Wouldn't you rather be a sparrow?'" + + She had sat so quietly that the rat had begun to take courage. He was very much afraid of her, but perhaps he had a heart like the sparrow and it told him that she was not a thing which pounced. He was very hungry. He had a wife and a large family in the wall, and they had had frightfully bad luck for several days. He had left the children crying bitterly, and felt he would risk a good deal for a few crumbs, so he cautiously dropped upon his feet. + + "Come on," said Sara; "I'm not a trap. You can have them, poor thing! Prisoners in the Bastille used to make friends with rats. Suppose I make friends with you." + + How it is that animals understand things I do not know, but it is certain that they do understand. Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words and everything in the world understands it. Perhaps there is a soul hidden in everything and it can always speak, without even making a sound, to another soul. But whatsoever was the reason, the rat knew from that moment that he was safe--even though he was a rat. He knew that this young human being sitting on the red footstool would not jump up and terrify him with wild, sharp noises or throw heavy objects at him which, if they did not fall and crush him, would send him limping in his scurry back to his hole. He was really a very nice rat, and did not mean the least harm. When he had stood on his hind legs and sniffed the air, with his bright eyes fixed on Sara, he had hoped that she would understand this, and would not begin by hating him as an enemy. When the mysterious thing which speaks without saying any words told him that she would not, he went softly toward the crumbs and began to eat them. As he did it he glanced every now and then at Sara, just as the sparrows had done, and his expression was so very apologetic that it touched her heart. + + She sat and watched him without making any movement. One crumb was very much larger than the others--in fact, it could scarcely be called a crumb. It was evident that he wanted that piece very much, but it lay quite near the footstool and he was still rather timid. + + "I believe he wants it to carry to his family in the wall," Sara thought. "If I do not stir at all, perhaps he will come and get it." + + She scarcely allowed herself to breathe, she was so deeply interested. The rat shuffled a little nearer and ate a few more crumbs, then he stopped and sniffed delicately, giving a side glance at the occupant of the footstool; then he darted at the piece of bun with something very like the sudden boldness of the sparrow, and the instant he had possession of it fled back to the wall, slipped down a crack in the skirting board, and was gone. + + "I knew he wanted it for his children," said Sara. "I do believe I could make friends with him." + + A week or so afterward, on one of the rare nights when Ermengarde found it safe to steal up to the attic, when she tapped on the door with the tips of her fingers Sara did not come to her for two or three minutes. There was, indeed, such a silence in the room at first that Ermengarde wondered if she could have fallen asleep. Then, to her surprise, she heard her utter a little, low laugh and speak coaxingly to someone. + + "There!" Ermengarde heard her say. "Take it and go home, Melchisedec! Go home to your wife!" + + Almost immediately Sara opened the door, and when she did so she found Ermengarde standing with alarmed eyes upon the threshold. + + "Who--who ARE you talking to, Sara?" she gasped out. + + Sara drew her in cautiously, but she looked as if something pleased and amused her. + + "You must promise not to be frightened--not to scream the least bit, or I can't tell you," she answered. + + Ermengarde felt almost inclined to scream on the spot, but managed to control herself. She looked all round the attic and saw no one. And yet Sara had certainly been speaking TO someone. She thought of ghosts. + + "Is it--something that will frighten me?" she asked timorously. + + "Some people are afraid of them," said Sara. "I was at first-- but I am not now." + + "Was it--a ghost?" quaked Ermengarde. + + "No," said Sara, laughing. "It was my rat." + + Ermengarde made one bound, and landed in the middle of the little dingy bed. She tucked her feet under her nightgown and the red shawl. She did not scream, but she gasped with fright. + + "Oh! Oh!" she cried under her breath. "A rat! A rat!" + + "I was afraid you would be frightened," said Sara. "But you needn't be. I am making him tame. He actually knows me and comes out when I call him. Are you too frightened to want to see him?" + + The truth was that, as the days had gone on and, with the aid of scraps brought up from the kitchen, her curious friendship had developed, she had gradually forgotten that the timid creature she was becoming familiar with was a mere rat. + + At first Ermengarde was too much alarmed to do anything but huddle in a heap upon the bed and tuck up her feet, but the sight of Sara's composed little countenance and the story of Melchisedec's first appearance began at last to rouse her curiosity, and she leaned forward over the edge of the bed and watched Sara go and kneel down by the hole in the skirting board. + + "He--he won't run out quickly and jump on the bed, will he?" she said. + + "No," answered Sara. "He's as polite as we are. He is just like a person. Now watch!" + + She began to make a low, whistling sound--so low and coaxing that it could only have been heard in entire stillness. She did it several times, looking entirely absorbed in it. Ermengarde thought she looked as if she were working a spell. And at last, evidently in response to it, a gray-whiskered, bright-eyed head peeped out of the hole. Sara had some crumbs in her hand. She dropped them, and Melchisedec came quietly forth and ate them. A piece of larger size than the rest he took and carried in the most businesslike manner back to his home. + + "You see," said Sara, "that is for his wife and children. He is very nice. He only eats the little bits. After he goes back I can always hear his family squeaking for joy. There are three kinds of squeaks. One kind is the children's, and one is Mrs. Melchisedec's, and one is Melchisedec's own." + + Ermengarde began to laugh. + + "Oh, Sara!" she said. "You ARE queer--but you are nice." + + "I know I am queer," admitted Sara, cheerfully; "and I TRY to be nice." She rubbed her forehead with her little brown paw, and a puzzled, tender look came into her face. "Papa always laughed at me," she said; "but I liked it. He thought I was queer, but he liked me to make up things. I--I can't help making up things. If I didn't, I don't believe I could live." She paused and glanced around the attic. "I'm sure I couldn't live here," she added in a low voice. + + Ermengarde was interested, as she always was. "When you talk about things," she said, "they seem as if they grew real. You talk about Melchisedec as if he was a person." + + "He IS a person," said Sara. "He gets hungry and frightened, just as we do; and he is married and has children. How do we know he doesn't think things, just as we do? His eyes look as if he was a person. That was why I gave him a name." + + She sat down on the floor in her favorite attitude, holding her knees. + + "Besides," she said, "he is a Bastille rat sent to be my friend. I can always get a bit of bread the cook has thrown away, and it is quite enough to support him." + + "Is it the Bastille yet?" asked Ermengarde, eagerly. "Do you always pretend it is the Bastille?" + + "Nearly always," answered Sara. "Sometimes I try to pretend it is another kind of place; but the Bastille is generally easiest-- particularly when it is cold." + + Just at that moment Ermengarde almost jumped off the bed, she was so startled by a sound she heard. It was like two distinct knocks on the wall. + + "What is that?" she exclaimed. + + Sara got up from the floor and answered quite dramatically: + + "It is the prisoner in the next cell." + + "Becky!" cried Ermengarde, enraptured. + + "Yes," said Sara. "Listen; the two knocks meant, `Prisoner, are you there?'" + + She knocked three times on the wall herself, as if in answer. + + "That means, `Yes, I am here, and all is well.'" + + Four knocks came from Becky's side of the wall. + + "That means," explained Sara, "`Then, fellow-sufferer, we will sleep in peace. Good night.'" + + Ermengarde quite beamed with delight. + + "Oh, Sara!" she whispered joyfully. "It is like a story!" + + "It IS a story," said Sara. "EVERYTHING'S a story. You are a story--I am a story. Miss Minchin is a story." + + And she sat down again and talked until Ermengarde forgot that she was a sort of escaped prisoner herself, and had to be reminded by Sara that she could not remain in the Bastille all night, but must steal noiselessly downstairs again and creep back into her deserted bed. + + + + 10 + + The Indian Gentleman + + But it was a perilous thing for Ermengarde and Lottie to make pilgrimages to the attic. They could never be quite sure when Sara would be there, and they could scarcely ever be certain that Miss Amelia would not make a tour of inspection through the bedrooms after the pupils were supposed to be asleep. So their visits were rare ones, and Sara lived a strange and lonely life. It was a lonelier life when she was downstairs than when she was in her attic. She had no one to talk to; and when she was sent out on errands and walked through the streets, a forlorn little figure carrying a basket or a parcel, trying to hold her hat on when the wind was blowing, and feeling the water soak through her shoes when it was raining, she felt as if the crowds hurrying past her made her loneliness greater. When she had been the Princess Sara, driving through the streets in her brougham, or walking, attended by Mariette, the sight of her bright, eager little face and picturesque coats and hats had often caused people to look after her. A happy, beautifully cared for little girl naturally attracts attention. Shabby, poorly dressed children are not rare enough and pretty enough to make people turn around to look at them and smile. No one looked at Sara in these days, and no one seemed to see her as she hurried along the crowded pavements. She had begun to grow very fast, and, as she was dressed only in such clothes as the plainer remnants of her wardrobe would supply, she knew she looked very queer, indeed. All her valuable garments had been disposed of, and such as had been left for her use she was expected to wear so long as she could put them on at all. Sometimes, when she passed a shop window with a mirror in it, she almost laughed outright on catching a glimpse of herself, and sometimes her face went red and she bit her lip and turned away. + + In the evening, when she passed houses whose windows were lighted up, she used to look into the warm rooms and amuse herself by imagining things about the people she saw sitting before the fires or about the tables. It always interested her to catch glimpses of rooms before the shutters were closed. There were several families in the square in which Miss Minchin lived, with which she had become quite familiar in a way of her own. The one she liked best she called the Large Family. She called it the Large Family not because the members of it were big- -for, indeed, most of them were little--but because there were so many of them. There were eight children in the Large Family, and a stout, rosy mother, and a stout, rosy father, and a stout, rosy grandmother, and any number of servants. The eight children were always either being taken out to walk or to ride in perambulators by comfortable nurses, or they were going to drive with their mamma, or they were flying to the door in the evening to meet their papa and kiss him and dance around him and drag off his overcoat and look in the pockets for packages, or they were crowding about the nursery windows and looking out and pushing each other and laughing--in fact, they were always doing something enjoyable and suited to the tastes of a large family. Sara was quite fond of them, and had given them names out of books--quite romantic names. She called them the Montmorencys when she did not call them the Large Family. The fat, fair baby with the lace cap was Ethelberta Beauchamp Montmorency; the next baby was Violet Cholmondeley Montmorency; the little boy who could just stagger and who had such round legs was Sydney Cecil Vivian Montmorency; and then came Lilian Evangeline Maud Marion, Rosalind Gladys, Guy Clarence, Veronica Eustacia, and Claude Harold Hector. + + One evening a very funny thing happened--though, perhaps, in one sense it was not a funny thing at all. + + Several of the Montmorencys were evidently going to a children's party, and just as Sara was about to pass the door they were crossing the pavement to get into the carriage which was waiting for them. Veronica Eustacia and Rosalind Gladys, in white-lace frocks and lovely sashes, had just got in, and Guy Clarence, aged five, was following them. He was such a pretty fellow and had such rosy cheeks and blue eyes, and such a darling little round head covered with curls, that Sara forgot her basket and shabby cloak altogether--in fact, forgot everything but that she wanted to look at him for a moment. So she paused and looked. + + It was Christmas time, and the Large Family had been hearing many stories about children who were poor and had no mammas and papas to fill their stockings and take them to the pantomime-- children who were, in fact, cold and thinly clad and hungry. In the stories, kind people--sometimes little boys and girls with tender hearts--invariably saw the poor children and gave them money or rich gifts, or took them home to beautiful dinners. Guy Clarence had been affected to tears that very afternoon by the reading of such a story, and he had burned with a desire to find such a poor child and give her a certain sixpence he possessed, and thus provide for her for life. An entire sixpence, he was sure, would mean affluence for evermore. As he crossed the strip of red carpet laid across the pavement from the door to the carriage, he had this very sixpence in the pocket of his very short man-o-war trousers; And just as Rosalind Gladys got into the vehicle and jumped on the seat in order to feel the cushions spring under her, he saw Sara standing on the wet pavement in her shabby frock and hat, with her old basket on her arm, looking at him hungrily. + + He thought that her eyes looked hungry because she had perhaps had nothing to eat for a long time. He did not know that they looked so because she was hungry for the warm, merry life his home held and his rosy face spoke of, and that she had a hungry wish to snatch him in her arms and kiss him. He only knew that she had big eyes and a thin face and thin legs and a common basket and poor clothes. So he put his hand in his pocket and found his sixpence and walked up to her benignly. + + "Here, poor little girl," he said. "Here is a sixpence. I will give it to you." + + Sara started, and all at once realized that she looked exactly like poor children she had seen, in her better days, waiting on the pavement to watch her as she got out of her brougham. And she had given them pennies many a time. Her face went red and then it went pale, and for a second she felt as if she could not take the dear little sixpence. + + "Oh, no!" she said. "Oh, no, thank you; I mustn't take it, indeed!" + + Her voice was so unlike an ordinary street child's voice and her manner was so like the manner of a well-bred little person that Veronica Eustacia (whose real name was Janet) and Rosalind Gladys (who was really called Nora) leaned forward to listen. + + But Guy Clarence was not to be thwarted in his benevolence. He thrust the sixpence into her hand. + + "Yes, you must take it, poor little girl!" he insisted stoutly. "You can buy things to eat with it. It is a whole sixpence!" + + There was something so honest and kind in his face, and he looked so likely to be heartbrokenly disappointed if she did not take it, that Sara knew she must not refuse him. To be as proud as that would be a cruel thing. So she actually put her pride in her pocket, though it must be admitted her cheeks burned. + + "Thank you," she said. "You are a kind, kind little darling thing." And as he scrambled joyfully into the carriage she went away, trying to smile, though she caught her breath quickly and her eyes were shining through a mist. She had known that she looked odd and shabby, but until now she had not known that she might be taken for a beggar. + + As the Large Family's carriage drove away, the children inside it were talking with interested excitement. + + "Oh, Donald," (this was Guy Clarence's name), Janet exclaimed alarmedly, "why did you offer that little girl your sixpence? I'm sure she is not a beggar!" + + "She didn't speak like a beggar!" cried Nora. "And her face didn't really look like a beggar's face!" + + "Besides, she didn't beg," said Janet. "I was so afraid she might be angry with you. You know, it makes people angry to be taken for beggars when they are not beggars." + + "She wasn't angry," said Donald, a trifle dismayed, but still firm. "She laughed a little, and she said I was a kind, kind little darling thing. And I was!"--stoutly. "It was my whole sixpence." + + Janet and Nora exchanged glances. + + "A beggar girl would never have said that," decided Janet. "She would have said, `Thank yer kindly, little gentleman-- thank yer, sir;' and perhaps she would have bobbed a curtsy." + + Sara knew nothing about the fact, but from that time the Large Family was as profoundly interested in her as she was in it. Faces used to appear at the nursery windows when she passed, and many discussions concerning her were held round the fire. + + "She is a kind of servant at the seminary," Janet said. "I don't believe she belongs to anybody. I believe she is an orphan. But she is not a beggar, however shabby she looks." + + And afterward she was called by all of them, "The-little-girl- who-is-not-a-beggar," which was, of course, rather a long name, and sounded very funny sometimes when the youngest ones said it in a hurry. + + Sara managed to bore a hole in the sixpence and hung it on an old bit of narrow ribbon round her neck. Her affection for the Large Family increased--as, indeed, her affection for everything she could love increased. She grew fonder and fonder of Becky, and she used to look forward to the two mornings a week when she went into the schoolroom to give the little ones their French lesson. Her small pupils loved her, and strove with each other for the privilege of standing close to her and insinuating their small hands into hers. It fed her hungry heart to feel them nestling up to her. She made such friends with the sparrows that when she stood upon the table, put her head and shoulders out of the attic window, and chirped, she heard almost immediately a flutter of wings and answering twitters, and a little flock of dingy town birds appeared and alighted on the slates to talk to her and make much of the crumbs she scattered. With Melchisedec she had become so intimate that he actually brought Mrs. Melchisedec with him sometimes, and now and then one or two of his children. She used to talk to him, and, somehow, he looked quite as if he understood. + + There had grown in her mind rather a strange feeling about Emily, who always sat and looked on at everything. It arose in one of her moments of great desolateness. She would have liked to believe or pretend to believe that Emily understood and sympathized with her. She did not like to own to herself that her only companion could feel and hear nothing. She used to put her in a chair sometimes and sit opposite to her on the old red footstool, and stare and pretend about her until her own eyes would grow large with something which was almost like fear-- particularly at night when everything was so still, when the only sound in the attic was the occasional sudden scurry and squeak of Melchisedec's family in the wall. One of her "pretends" was that Emily was a kind of good witch who could protect her. Sometimes, after she had stared at her until she was wrought up to the highest pitch of fancifulness, she would ask her questions and find herself ALMOST feeling as if she would presently answer. But she never did. + + "As to answering, though," said Sara, trying to console herself, "I don't answer very often. I never answer when I can help it. When people are insulting you, there is nothing so good for them as not to say a word--just to look at them and THINK. Miss Minchin turns pale with rage when I do it, Miss Amelia looks frightened, and so do the girls. When you will not fly into a passion people know you are stronger than they are, because you are strong enough to hold in your rage, and they are not, and they say stupid things they wish they hadn't said afterward. There's nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold it in--that's stronger. It's a good thing not to answer your enemies. I scarcely ever do. Perhaps Emily is more like me than I am like myself. Perhaps she would rather not answer her friends, even. She keeps it all in her heart." + + But though she tried to satisfy herself with these arguments, she did not find it easy. When, after a long, hard day, in which she had been sent here and there, sometimes on long errands through wind and cold and rain, she came in wet and hungry, and was sent out again because nobody chose to remember that she was only a child, and that her slim legs might be tired and her small body might be chilled; when she had been given only harsh words and cold, slighting looks for thanks; when the cook had been vulgar and insolent; when Miss Minchin had been in her worst mood, and when she had seen the girls sneering among themselves at her shabbiness--then she was not always able to comfort her sore, proud, desolate heart with fancies when Emily merely sat upright in her old chair and stared. + + One of these nights, when she came up to the attic cold and hungry, with a tempest raging in her young breast, Emily's stare seemed so vacant, her sawdust legs and arms so inexpressive, that Sara lost all control over herself. There was nobody but Emily-- no one in the world. And there she sat. + + "I shall die presently," she said at first. + + Emily simply stared. + + "I can't bear this," said the poor child, trembling. "I know I shall die. I'm cold; I'm wet; I'm starving to death. I've walked a thousand miles today, and they have done nothing but scold me from morning until night. And because I could not find that last thing the cook sent me for, they would not give me any supper. Some men laughed at me because my old shoes made me slip down in the mud. I'm covered with mud now. And they laughed. Do you hear?" + + She looked at the staring glass eyes and complacent face, and suddenly a sort of heartbroken rage seized her. She lifted her little savage hand and knocked Emily off the chair, bursting into a passion of sobbing--Sara who never cried. + + "You are nothing but a DOLL!" she cried. "Nothing but a doll-- doll--doll! You care for nothing. You are stuffed with sawdust. You never had a heart. Nothing could ever make you feel. You are a DOLL!" Emily lay on the floor, with her legs ignominiously doubled up over her head, and a new flat place on the end of her nose; but she was calm, even dignified. Sara hid her face in her arms. The rats in the wall began to fight and bite each other and squeak and scramble. Melchisedec was chastising some of his family. + + Sara's sobs gradually quieted themselves. It was so unlike her to break down that she was surprised at herself. After a while she raised her face and looked at Emily, who seemed to be gazing at her round the side of one angle, and, somehow, by this time actually with a kind of glassy-eyed sympathy. Sara bent and picked her up. Remorse overtook her. She even smiled at herself a very little smile. + + "You can't help being a doll," she said with a resigned sigh, "any more than Lavinia and Jessie can help not having any sense. We are not all made alike. Perhaps you do your sawdust best." And she kissed her and shook her clothes straight, and put her back upon her chair. + + She had wished very much that some one would take the empty house next door. She wished it because of the attic window which was so near hers. It seemed as if it would be so nice to see it propped open someday and a head and shoulders rising out of the square aperture. + + "If it looked a nice head," she thought, "I might begin by saying, `Good morning,' and all sorts of things might happen. But, of course, it's not really likely that anyone but under servants would sleep there." + + One morning, on turning the corner of the square after a visit to the grocer's, the butcher's, and the baker's, she saw, to her great delight, that during her rather prolonged absence, a van full of furniture had stopped before the next house, the front doors were thrown open, and men in shirt sleeves were going in and out carrying heavy packages and pieces of furniture. + + "It's taken!" she said. "It really IS taken! Oh, I do hope a nice head will look out of the attic window!" + + She would almost have liked to join the group of loiterers who had stopped on the pavement to watch the things carried in. She had an idea that if she could see some of the furniture she could guess something about the people it belonged to. + + "Miss Minchin's tables and chairs are just like her," she thought; "I remember thinking that the first minute I saw her, even though I was so little. I told papa afterward, and he laughed and said it was true. I am sure the Large Family have fat, comfortable armchairs and sofas, and I can see that their red-flowery wallpaper is exactly like them. It's warm and cheerful and kind-looking and happy." + + She was sent out for parsley to the greengrocer's later in the day, and when she came up the area steps her heart gave quite a quick beat of recognition. Several pieces of furniture had been set out of the van upon the pavement. There was a beautiful table of elaborately wrought teakwood, and some chairs, and a screen covered with rich Oriental embroidery. The sight of them gave her a weird, homesick feeling. She had seen things so like them in India. One of the things Miss Minchin had taken from her was a carved teakwood desk her father had sent her. + + "They are beautiful things," she said; "they look as if they ought to belong to a nice person. All the things look rather grand. I suppose it is a rich family." + + The vans of furniture came and were unloaded and gave place to others all the day. Several times it so happened that Sara had an opportunity of seeing things carried in. It became plain that she had been right in guessing that the newcomers were people of large means. All the furniture was rich and beautiful, and a great deal of it was Oriental. Wonderful rugs and draperies and ornaments were taken from the vans, many pictures, and books enough for a library. Among other things there was a superb god Buddha in a splendid shrine. + + "Someone in the family MUST have been in India," Sara thought. "They have got used to Indian things and like them. I AM glad. I shall feel as if they were friends, even if a head never looks out of the attic window." + + When she was taking in the evening's milk for the cook (there was really no odd job she was not called upon to do), she saw something occur which made the situation more interesting than ever. The handsome, rosy man who was the father of the Large Family walked across the square in the most matter-of-fact manner, and ran up the steps of the next-door house. He ran up them as if he felt quite at home and expected to run up and down them many a time in the future. He stayed inside quite a long time, and several times came out and gave directions to the workmen, as if he had a right to do so. It was quite certain that he was in some intimate way connected with the newcomers and was acting for them. + + "If the new people have children," Sara speculated, "the Large Family children will be sure to come and play with them, and they MIGHT come up into the attic just for fun." + + At night, after her work was done, Becky came in to see her fellow prisoner and bring her news. + + "It's a' Nindian gentleman that's comin' to live next door, miss," she said. "I don't know whether he's a black gentleman or not, but he's a Nindian one. He's very rich, an' he's ill, an' the gentleman of the Large Family is his lawyer. He's had a lot of trouble, an' it's made him ill an' low in his mind. He worships idols, miss. He's an 'eathen an' bows down to wood an' stone. I seen a' idol bein' carried in for him to worship. Somebody had oughter send him a trac'. You can get a trac' for a penny." + + Sara laughed a little. + + "I don't believe he worships that idol," she said; "some people like to keep them to look at because they are interesting. My papa had a beautiful one, and he did not worship it." + + But Becky was rather inclined to prefer to believe that the new neighbor was "an 'eathen." It sounded so much more romantic than that he should merely be the ordinary kind of gentleman who went to church with a prayer book. She sat and talked long that night of what he would be like, of what his wife would be like if he had one, and of what his children would be like if they had children. Sara saw that privately she could not help hoping very much that they would all be black, and would wear turbans, and, above all, that--like their parent--they would all be "'eathens." + + "I never lived next door to no 'eathens, miss," she said; "I should like to see what sort o' ways they'd have." + + It was several weeks before her curiosity was satisfied, and then it was revealed that the new occupant had neither wife nor children. He was a solitary man with no family at all, and it was evident that he was shattered in health and unhappy in mind. + + A carriage drove up one day and stopped before the house. When the footman dismounted from the box and opened the door the gentleman who was the father of the Large Family got out first. After him there descended a nurse in uniform, then came down the steps two men-servants. They came to assist their master, who, when he was helped out of the carriage, proved to be a man with a haggard, distressed face, and a skeleton body wrapped in furs. He was carried up the steps, and the head of the Large Family went with him, looking very anxious. Shortly afterward a doctor's carriage arrived, and the doctor went in--plainly to take care of him. + + "There is such a yellow gentleman next door, Sara," Lottie whispered at the French class afterward. "Do you think he is a Chinee? The geography says the Chinee men are yellow." + + "No, he is not Chinese," Sara whispered back; "he is very ill. Go on with your exercise, Lottie. `Non, monsieur. Je n'ai pas le canif de mon oncle.'" + + That was the beginning of the story of the Indian gentleman. + + + + 11 + + Ram Dass + + There were fine sunsets even in the square, sometimes. One could only see parts of them, however, between the chimneys and over the roofs. From the kitchen windows one could not see them at all, and could only guess that they were going on because the bricks looked warm and the air rosy or yellow for a while, or perhaps one saw a blazing glow strike a particular pane of glass somewhere. There was, however, one place from which one could see all the splendor of them: the piles of red or gold clouds in the west; or the purple ones edged with dazzling brightness; or the little fleecy, floating ones, tinged with rose-color and looking like flights of pink doves scurrying across the blue in a great hurry if there was a wind. The place where one could see all this, and seem at the same time to breathe a purer air, was, of course, the attic window. When the square suddenly seemed to begin to glow in an enchanted way and look wonderful in spite of its sooty trees and railings, Sara knew something was going on in the sky; and when it was at all possible to leave the kitchen without being missed or called back, she invariably stole away and crept up the flights of stairs, and, climbing on the old table, got her head and body as far out of the window as possible. When she had accomplished this, she always drew a long breath and looked all round her. It used to seem as if she had all the sky and the world to herself. No one else ever looked out of the other attics. Generally the skylights were closed; but even if they were propped open to admit air, no one seemed to come near them. And there Sara would stand, sometimes turning her face upward to the blue which seemed so friendly and near-- just like a lovely vaulted ceiling--sometimes watching the west and all the wonderful things that happened there: the clouds melting or drifting or waiting softly to be changed pink or crimson or snow-white or purple or pale dove-gray. Sometimes they made islands or great mountains enclosing lakes of deep turquoise- blue, or liquid amber, or chrysoprase-green; sometimes dark headlands jutted into strange, lost seas; sometimes slender strips of wonderful lands joined other wonderful lands together. There were places where it seemed that one could run or climb or stand and wait to see what next was coming--until, perhaps, as it all melted, one could float away. At least it seemed so to Sara, and nothing had ever been quite so beautiful to her as the things she saw as she stood on the table--her body half out of the skylight--the sparrows twittering with sunset softness on the slates. The sparrows always seemed to her to twitter with a sort of subdued softness just when these marvels were going on. + + There was such a sunset as this a few days after the Indian gentleman was brought to his new home; and, as it fortunately happened that the afternoon's work was done in the kitchen and nobody had ordered her to go anywhere or perform any task, Sara found it easier than usual to slip away and go upstairs. + + She mounted her table and stood looking out. It was a wonderful moment. There were floods of molten gold covering the west, as if a glorious tide was sweeping over the world. A deep, rich yellow light filled the air; the birds flying across the tops of the houses showed quite black against it. + + "It's a Splendid one," said Sara, softly, to herself. "It makes me feel almost afraid--as if something strange was just going to happen. The Splendid ones always make me feel like that." + + She suddenly turned her head because she heard a sound a few yards away from her. It was an odd sound like a queer little squeaky chattering. It came from the window of the next attic. Someone had come to look at the sunset as she had. There was a head and a part of a body emerging from the skylight, but it was not the head or body of a little girl or a housemaid; it was the picturesque white-swathed form and dark-faced, gleaming-eyed, white-turbaned head of a native Indian man-servant--"a Lascar," Sara said to herself quickly--and the sound she had heard came from a small monkey he held in his arms as if he were fond of it, and which was snuggling and chattering against his breast. + + As Sara looked toward him he looked toward her. The first thing she thought was that his dark face looked sorrowful and homesick. She felt absolutely sure he had come up to look at the sun, because he had seen it so seldom in England that he longed for a sight of it. She looked at him interestedly for a second, and then smiled across the slates. She had learned to know how comforting a smile, even from a stranger, may be. + + Hers was evidently a pleasure to him. His whole expression altered, and he showed such gleaming white teeth as he smiled back that it was as if a light had been illuminated in his dusky face. The friendly look in Sara's eyes was always very effective when people felt tired or dull. + + It was perhaps in making his salute to her that he loosened his hold on the monkey. He was an impish monkey and always ready for adventure, and it is probable that the sight of a little girl excited him. He suddenly broke loose, jumped on to the slates, ran across them chattering, and actually leaped on to Sara's shoulder, and from there down into her attic room. It made her laugh and delighted her; but she knew he must be restored to his master--if the Lascar was his master--and she wondered how this was to be done. Would he let her catch him, or would he be naughty and refuse to be caught, and perhaps get away and run off over the roofs and be lost? That would not do at all. Perhaps he belonged to the Indian gentleman, and the poor man was fond of him. + + She turned to the Lascar, feeling glad that she remembered still some of the Hindustani she had learned when she lived with her father. She could make the man understand. She spoke to him in the language he knew. + + "Will he let me catch him?" she asked. + + She thought she had never seen more surprise and delight than the dark face expressed when she spoke in the familiar tongue. The truth was that the poor fellow felt as if his gods had intervened, and the kind little voice came from heaven itself. At once Sara saw that he had been accustomed to European children. He poured forth a flood of respectful thanks. He was the servant of Missee Sahib. The monkey was a good monkey and would not bite; but, unfortunately, he was difficult to catch. He would flee from one spot to another, like the lightning. He was disobedient, though not evil. Ram Dass knew him as if he were his child, and Ram Dass he would sometimes obey, but not always. If Missee Sahib would permit Ram Dass, he himself could cross the roof to her room, enter the windows, and regain the unworthy little animal. But he was evidently afraid Sara might think he was taking a great liberty and perhaps would not let him come. + + But Sara gave him leave at once. + + "Can you get across?" she inquired. + + "In a moment," he answered her. + + "Then come," she said; "he is flying from side to side of the room as if he was frightened." + + Ram Dass slipped through his attic window and crossed to hers as steadily and lightly as if he had walked on roofs all his life. He slipped through the skylight and dropped upon his feet without a sound. Then he turned to Sara and salaamed again. The monkey saw him and uttered a little scream. Ram Dass hastily took the precaution of shutting the skylight, and then went in chase of him. It was not a very long chase. The monkey prolonged it a few minutes evidently for the mere fun of it, but presently he sprang chattering on to Ram Dass's shoulder and sat there chattering and clinging to his neck with a weird little skinny arm. + + Ram Dass thanked Sara profoundly. She had seen that his quick native eyes had taken in at a glance all the bare shabbiness of the room, but he spoke to her as if he were speaking to the little daughter of a rajah, and pretended that he observed nothing. He did not presume to remain more than a few moments after he had caught the monkey, and those moments were given to further deep and grateful obeisance to her in return for her indulgence. This little evil one, he said, stroking the monkey, was, in truth, not so evil as he seemed, and his master, who was ill, was sometimes amused by him. He would have been made sad if his favorite had run away and been lost. Then he salaamed once more and got through the skylight and across the slates again with as much agility as the monkey himself had displayed. + + When he had gone Sara stood in the middle of her attic and thought of many things his face and his manner had brought back to her. The sight of his native costume and the profound reverence of his manner stirred all her past memories. It seemed a strange thing to remember that she--the drudge whom the cook had said insulting things to an hour ago--had only a few years ago been surrounded by people who all treated her as Ram Dass had treated her; who salaamed when she went by, whose foreheads almost touched the ground when she spoke to them, who were her servants and her slaves. It was like a sort of dream. It was all over, and it could never come back. It certainly seemed that there was no way in which any change could take place. She knew what Miss Minchin intended that her future should be. So long as she was too young to be used as a regular teacher, she would be used as an errand girl and servant and yet expected to remember what she had learned and in some mysterious way to learn more. The greater number of her evenings she was supposed to spend at study, and at various indefinite intervals she was examined and knew she would have been severely admonished if she had not advanced as was expected of her. The truth, indeed, was that Miss Minchin knew that she was too anxious to learn to require teachers. Give her books, and she would devour them and end by knowing them by heart. She might be trusted to be equal to teaching a good deal in the course of a few years. This was what would happen: when she was older she would be expected to drudge in the schoolroom as she drudged now in various parts of the house; they would be obliged to give her more respectable clothes, but they would be sure to be plain and ugly and to make her look somehow like a servant. That was all there seemed to be to look forward to, and Sara stood quite still for several minutes and thought it over. + + Then a thought came back to her which made the color rise in her cheek and a spark light itself in her eyes. She straightened her thin little body and lifted her head. + + "Whatever comes," she said, "cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it. There was Marie Antoinette when she was in prison and her throne was gone and she had only a black gown on, and her hair was white, and they insulted her and called her Widow Capet. She was a great deal more like a queen then than when she was so gay and everything was so grand. I like her best then. Those howling mobs of people did not frighten her. She was stronger than they were, even when they cut her head off." + + This was not a new thought, but quite an old one, by this time. It had consoled her through many a bitter day, and she had gone about the house with an expression in her face which Miss Minchin could not understand and which was a source of great annoyance to her, as it seemed as if the child were mentally living a life which held her above he rest of the world. It was as if she scarcely heard the rude and acid things said to her; or, if she heard them, did not care for them at all. Sometimes, when she was in the midst of some harsh, domineering speech, Miss Minchin would find the still, unchildish eyes fixed upon her with something like a proud smile in them. At such times she did not know that Sara was saying to herself: + + "You don't know that you are saying these things to a princess, and that if I chose I could wave my hand and order you to execution. I only spare you because I am a princess, and you are a poor, stupid, unkind, vulgar old thing, and don't know any better." + + This used to interest and amuse her more than anything else; and queer and fanciful as it was, she found comfort in it and it was a good thing for her. While the thought held possession of her, she could not be made rude and malicious by the rudeness and malice of those about her. + + "A princess must be polite," she said to herself. + + And so when the servants, taking their tone from their mistress, were insolent and ordered her about, she would hold her head erect and reply to them with a quaint civility which often made them stare at her. + + "She's got more airs and graces than if she come from Buckingham Palace, that young one," said the cook, chuckling a little sometimes. "I lose my temper with her often enough, but I will say she never forgets her manners. `If you please, cook'; `Will you be so kind, cook?' `I beg your pardon, cook'; `May I trouble you, cook?' She drops 'em about the kitchen as if they was nothing." + + The morning after the interview with Ram Dass and his monkey, Sara was in the schoolroom with her small pupils. Having finished giving them their lessons, she was putting the French exercise-books together and thinking, as she did it, of the various things royal personages in disguise were called upon to do: Alfred the Great, for instance, burning the cakes and getting his ears boxed by the wife of the neat-herd. How frightened she must have been when she found out what she had done. If Miss Minchin should find out that she--Sara, whose toes were almost sticking out of her boots--was a princess--a real one! The look in her eyes was exactly the look which Miss Minchin most disliked. She would not have it; she was quite near her and was so enraged that she actually flew at her and boxed her ears--exactly as the neat-herd's wife had boxed King Alfred's. It made Sara start. She wakened from her dream at the shock, and, catching her breath, stood still a second. Then, not knowing she was going to do it, she broke into a little laugh. + + "What are you laughing at, you bold, impudent child?" Miss Minchin exclaimed. + + It took Sara a few seconds to control herself sufficiently to remember that she was a princess. Her cheeks were red and smarting from the blows she had received. + + "I was thinking," she answered. + + "Beg my pardon immediately," said Miss Minchin. + + Sara hesitated a second before she replied. + + "I will beg your pardon for laughing, if it was rude," she said then; "but I won't beg your pardon for thinking." + + "What were you thinking?" demanded Miss Minchin. + + "How dare you think? What were you thinking?" + + Jessie tittered, and she and Lavinia nudged each other in unison. All the girls looked up from their books to listen. Really, it always interested them a little when Miss Minchin attacked Sara. Sara always said something queer, and never seemed the least bit frightened. She was not in the least frightened now, though her boxed ears were scarlet and her eyes were as bright as stars. + + "I was thinking," she answered grandly and politely, "that you did not know what you were doing." + + "That I did not know what I was doing?" Miss Minchin fairly gasped. + + "Yes," said Sara, "and I was thinking what would happen if I were a princess and you boxed my ears--what I should do to you. And I was thinking that if I were one, you would never dare to do it, whatever I said or did. And I was thinking how surprised and frightened you would be if you suddenly found out--" + + She had the imagined future so clearly before her eyes that she spoke in a manner which had an effect even upon Miss Minchin. It almost seemed for the moment to her narrow, unimaginative mind that there must be some real power hidden behind this candid daring. + + "What?" she exclaimed. "Found out what?" + + "That I really was a princess," said Sara, "and could do anything--anything I liked." + + Every pair of eyes in the room widened to its full limit. Lavinia leaned forward on her seat to look. + + "Go to your room," cried Miss Minchin, breathlessly, "this instant! Leave the schoolroom! Attend to your lessons, young ladies!" + + Sara made a little bow. + + "Excuse me for laughing if it was impolite," she said, and walked out of the room, leaving Miss Minchin struggling with her rage, and the girls whispering over their books. + + "Did you see her? Did you see how queer she looked?" Jessie broke out. "I shouldn't be at all surprised if she did turn out to be something. Suppose she should!" + + + + 12 + + The Other Side of the Wall + + When one lives in a row of houses, it is interesting to think of the things which are being done and said on the other side of the wall of the very rooms one is living in. Sara was fond of amusing herself by trying to imagine the things hidden by the wall which divided the Select Seminary from the Indian gentleman's house. She knew that the schoolroom was next to the Indian gentleman's study, and she hoped that the wall was thick so that the noise made sometimes after lesson hours would not disturb him. + + "I am growing quite fond of him," she said to Ermengarde; "I should not like him to be disturbed. I have adopted him for a friend. You can do that with people you never speak to at all. You can just watch them, and think about them and be sorry for them, until they seem almost like relations. I'm quite anxious sometimes when I see the doctor call twice a day." + + "I have very few relations," said Ermengarde, reflectively, "and I'm very glad of it. I don't like those I have. My two aunts are always saying, `Dear me, Ermengarde! You are very fat. You shouldn't eat sweets,' and my uncle is always asking me things like, `When did Edward the Third ascend the throne?' and, `Who died of a surfeit of lampreys?'" + + Sara laughed. + + "People you never speak to can't ask you questions like that," she said; "and I'm sure the Indian gentleman wouldn't even if he was quite intimate with you. I am fond of him." + + She had become fond of the Large Family because they looked happy; but she had become fond of the Indian gentleman because he looked unhappy. He had evidently not fully recovered from some very severe illness. In the kitchen--where, of course, the servants, through some mysterious means, knew everything--there was much discussion of his case. He was not an Indian gentleman really, but an Englishman who had lived in India. He had met with great misfortunes which had for a time so imperilled his whole fortune that he had thought himself ruined and disgraced forever. The shock had been so great that he had almost died of brain fever; and ever since he had been shattered in health, though his fortunes had changed and all his possessions had been restored to him. His trouble and peril had been connected with mines. + + "And mines with diamonds in 'em!" said the cook. "No savin's of mine never goes into no mines--particular diamond ones"-- with a side glance at Sara. "We all know somethin' of THEM." "He felt as my papa felt," Sara thought. "He was ill as my papa was; but he did not die." + + So her heart was more drawn to him than before. When she was sent out at night she used sometimes to feel quite glad, because there was always a chance that the curtains of the house next door might not yet be closed and she could look into the warm room and see her adopted friend. When no one was about she used sometimes to stop, and, holding to the iron railings, wish him good night as if he could hear her. + + "Perhaps you can FEEL if you can't hear," was her fancy. "Perhaps kind thoughts reach people somehow, even through windows and doors and walls. Perhaps you feel a little warm and comforted, and don't know why, when I am standing here in the cold and hoping you will get well and happy again. I am so sorry for you," she would whisper in an intense little voice. "I wish you had a `Little Missus' who could pet you as I used to pet papa when he had a headache. I should like to be your `Little Missus' myself, poor dear! Good night--good night. God bless you!" + + She would go away, feeling quite comforted and a little warmer herself. Her sympathy was so strong that it seemed as if it MUST reach him somehow as he sat alone in his armchair by the fire, nearly always in a great dressing gown, and nearly always with his forehead resting in his hand as he gazed hopelessly into the fire. He looked to Sara like a man who had a trouble on his mind still, not merely like one whose troubles lay all in the past. + + "He always seems as if he were thinking of something that hurts him NOW", she said to herself, "but he has got his money back and he will get over his brain fever in time, so he ought not to look like that. I wonder if there is something else." + + If there was something else--something even servants did not hear of--she could not help believing that the father of the Large Family knew it--the gentleman she called Mr. Montmorency. Mr. Montmorency went to see him often, and Mrs. Montmorency and all the little Montmorencys went, too, though less often. He seemed particularly fond of the two elder little girls--the Janet and Nora who had been so alarmed when their small brother Donald had given Sara his sixpence. He had, in fact, a very tender place in his heart for all children, and particularly for little girls. Janet and Nora were as fond of him as he was of them, and looked forward with the greatest pleasure to the afternoons when they were allowed to cross the square and make their well-behaved little visits to him. They were extremely decorous little visits because he was an invalid. + + "He is a poor thing," said Janet, "and he says we cheer him up. We try to cheer him up very quietly." + + Janet was the head of the family, and kept the rest of it in order. It was she who decided when it was discreet to ask the Indian gentleman to tell stories about India, and it was she who saw when he was tired and it was the time to steal quietly away and tell Ram Dass to go to him. They were very fond of Ram Dass. He could have told any number of stories if he had been able to speak anything but Hindustani. The Indian gentleman's real name was Mr. Carrisford, and Janet told Mr. Carrisford about the encounter with the little-girl-who-was-not-a-beggar. He was very much interested, and all the more so when he heard from Ram Dass of the adventure of the monkey on the roof. Ram Dass made for him a very clear picture of the attic and its desolateness--of the bare floor and broken plaster, the rusty, empty grate, and the hard, narrow bed. + + "Carmichael," he said to the father of the Large Family, after he had heard this description, "I wonder how many of the attics in this square are like that one, and how many wretched little servant girls sleep on such beds, while I toss on my down pillows, loaded and harassed by wealth that is, most of it--not mine." + + "My dear fellow," Mr. Carmichael answered cheerily, "the sooner you cease tormenting yourself the better it will be for you. If you possessed all the wealth of all the Indies, you could not set right all the discomforts in the world, and if you began to refurnish all the attics in this square, there would still remain all the attics in all the other squares and streets to put in order. And there you are!" + + Mr. Carrisford sat and bit his nails as he looked into the glowing bed of coals in the grate. + + "Do you suppose," he said slowly, after a pause--"do you think it is possible that the other child--the child I never cease thinking of, I believe--could be--could POSSIBLY be reduced to any such condition as the poor little soul next door?" + + Mr. Carmichael looked at him uneasily. He knew that the worst thing the man could do for himself, for his reason and his health, was to begin to think in the particular way of this particular subject. + + "If the child at Madame Pascal's school in Paris was the one you are in search of," he answered soothingly, "she would seem to be in the hands of people who can afford to take care of her. They adopted her because she had been the favorite companion of their little daughter who died. They had no other children, and Madame Pascal said that they were extremely well-to-do Russians." + + "And the wretched woman actually did not know where they had taken her!" exclaimed Mr. Carrisford. + + Mr. Carmichael shrugged his shoulders. + + "She was a shrewd, worldly Frenchwoman, and was evidently only too glad to get the child so comfortably off her hands when the father's death left her totally unprovided for. Women of her type do not trouble themselves about the futures of children who might prove burdens. The adopted parents apparently disappeared and left no trace." + + "But you say `IF the child was the one I am in search of. You say 'if.' We are not sure. There was a difference in the name." + + "Madame Pascal pronounced it as if it were Carew instead of Crewe--but that might be merely a matter of pronunciation. The circumstances were curiously similar. An English officer in India had placed his motherless little girl at the school. He had died suddenly after losing his fortune." Mr. Carmichael paused a moment, as if a new thought had occurred to him. "Are you SURE the child was left at a school in Paris? Are you sure it was Paris?" + + "My dear fellow," broke forth Carrisford, with restless bitterness, "I am SURE of nothing. I never saw either the child or her mother. Ralph Crewe and I loved each other as boys, but we had not met since our school days, until we met in India. I was absorbed in the magnificent promise of the mines. He became absorbed, too. The whole thing was so huge and glittering that we half lost our heads. When we met we scarcely spoke of anything else. I only knew that the child had been sent to school somewhere. I do not even remember, now, HOW I knew it." + + He was beginning to be excited. He always became excited when his still weakened brain was stirred by memories of the catastrophes of the past. + + Mr. Carmichael watched him anxiously. It was necessary to ask some questions, but they must be put quietly and with caution. + + "But you had reason to think the school WAS in Paris?" + + "Yes," was the answer, "because her mother was a Frenchwoman, and I had heard that she wished her child to be educated in Paris. It seemed only likely that she would be there." + + "Yes," Mr. Carmichael said, "it seems more than probable." + + The Indian gentleman leaned forward and struck the table with a long, wasted hand. + + "Carmichael," he said, "I MUST find her. If she is alive, she is somewhere. If she is friendless and penniless, it is through my fault. How is a man to get back his nerve with a thing like that on his mind? This sudden change of luck at the mines has made realities of all our most fantastic dreams, and poor Crewe's child may be begging in the street!" + + "No, no," said Carmichael. "Try to be calm. Console yourself with the fact that when she is found you have a fortune to hand over to her." + + "Why was I not man enough to stand my ground when things looked black?" Carrisford groaned in petulant misery. "I believe I should have stood my ground if I had not been responsible for other people's money as well as my own. Poor Crewe had put into the scheme every penny that he owned. He trusted me--he LOVED me. And he died thinking I had ruined him--I--Tom Carrisford, who played cricket at Eton with him. What a villain he must have thought me!" + + "Don't reproach yourself so bitterly." + + "I don't reproach myself because the speculation threatened to fail--I reproach myself for losing my courage. I ran away like a swindler and a thief, because I could not face my best friend and tell him I had ruined him and his child." + + The good-hearted father of the Large Family put his hand on his shoulder comfortingly. + + "You ran away because your brain had given way under the strain of mental torture," he said. "You were half delirious already. If you had not been you would have stayed and fought it out. You were in a hospital, strapped down in bed, raving with brain fever, two days after you left the place. Remember that." + + Carrisford dropped his forehead in his hands. + + "Good God! Yes," he said. "I was driven mad with dread and horror. I had not slept for weeks. The night I staggered out of my house all the air seemed full of hideous things mocking and mouthing at me." + + "That is explanation enough in itself," said Mr. Carmichael. "How could a man on the verge of brain fever judge sanely!" + + Carrisford shook his drooping head. + + "And when I returned to consciousness poor Crewe was dead--and buried. And I seemed to remember nothing. I did not remember the child for months and months. Even when I began to recall her existence everything seemed in a sort of haze." + + He stopped a moment and rubbed his forehead. "It sometimes seems so now when I try to remember. Surely I must sometime have heard Crewe speak of the school she was sent to. Don't you think so?" + + "He might not have spoken of it definitely. You never seem even to have heard her real name." + + "He used to call her by an odd pet name he had invented. He called her his `Little Missus.' But the wretched mines drove everything else out of our heads. We talked of nothing else. If he spoke of the school, I forgot--I forgot. And now I shall never remember." + + "Come, come," said Carmichael. "We shall find her yet. We will continue to search for Madame Pascal's good-natured Russians. She seemed to have a vague idea that they lived in Moscow. We will take that as a clue. I will go to Moscow." + + "If I were able to travel, I would go with you," said Carrisford; "but I can only sit here wrapped in furs and stare at the fire. And when I look into it I seem to see Crewe's gay young face gazing back at me. He looks as if he were asking me a question. Sometimes I dream of him at night, and he always stands before me and asks the same question in words. Can you guess what he says, Carmichael?" + + Mr. Carmichael answered him in a rather low voice. + + "Not exactly," he said. + + "He always says, `Tom, old man--Tom--where is the Little Missus?'" He caught at Carmichael's hand and clung to it. "I must be able to answer him--I must!" he said. "Help me to find her. Help me." + + On the other side of the wall Sara was sitting in her garret talking to Melchisedec, who had come out for his evening meal. + + "It has been hard to be a princess today, Melchisedec," she said. "It has been harder than usual. It gets harder as the weather grows colder and the streets get more sloppy. When Lavinia laughed at my muddy skirt as I passed her in the hall, I thought of something to say all in a flash--and I only just stopped myself in time. You can't sneer back at people like that- -if you are a princess. But you have to bite your tongue to hold yourself in. I bit mine. It was a cold afternoon, Melchisedec. And it's a cold night." + + Quite suddenly she put her black head down in her arms, as she often did when she was alone. + + "Oh, papa," she whispered, "what a long time it seems since I was your `Little Missus'!" + + This was what happened that day on both sides of the wall. + + + + 13 + + One of the Populace + + The winter was a wretched one. There were days on which Sara tramped through snow when she went on her errands; there were worse days when the snow melted and combined itself with mud to form slush; there were others when the fog was so thick that the lamps in the street were lighted all day and London looked as it had looked the afternoon, several years ago, when the cab had driven through the thoroughfares with Sara tucked up on its seat, leaning against her father's shoulder. On such days the windows of the house of the Large Family always looked delightfully cozy and alluring, and the study in which the Indian gentleman sat glowed with warmth and rich color. But the attic was dismal beyond words. There were no longer sunsets or sunrises to look at, and scarcely ever any stars, it seemed to Sara. The clouds hung low over the skylight and were either gray or mud-color, or dropping heavy rain. At four o'clock in the afternoon, even when there was no special fog, the daylight was at an end. If it was necessary to go to her attic for anything, Sara was obliged to light a candle. The women in the kitchen were depressed, and that made them more ill-tempered than ever. Becky was driven like a little slave. + + "'Twarn't for you, miss," she said hoarsely to Sara one night when she had crept into the attic--"'twarn't for you, an' the Bastille, an' bein' the prisoner in the next cell, I should die. That there does seem real now, doesn't it? The missus is more like the head jailer every day she lives. I can jest see them big keys you say she carries. The cook she's like one of the under-jailers. Tell me some more, please, miss--tell me about the subt'ranean passage we've dug under the walls." + + "I'll tell you something warmer," shivered Sara. "Get your coverlet and wrap it round you, and I'll get mine, and we will huddle close together on the bed, and I'll tell you about the tropical forest where the Indian gentleman's monkey used to live. When I see him sitting on the table near the window and looking out into the street with that mournful expression, I always feel sure he is thinking about the tropical forest where he used to swing by his tail from coconut trees. I wonder who caught him, and if he left a family behind who had depended on him for coconuts." + + "That is warmer, miss," said Becky, gratefully; "but, someways, even the Bastille is sort of heatin' when you gets to tellin' about it." + + "That is because it makes you think of something else," said Sara, wrapping the coverlet round her until only her small dark face was to be seen looking out of it. "I've noticed this. What you have to do with your mind, when your body is miserable, is to make it think of something else." + + "Can you do it, miss?" faltered Becky, regarding her with admiring eyes. + + Sara knitted her brows a moment. + + "Sometimes I can and sometimes I can't," she said stoutly. "But when I CAN I'm all right. And what I believe is that we always could--if we practiced enough. I've been practicing a good deal lately, and it's beginning to be easier than it used to be. When things are horrible--just horrible--I think as hard as ever I can of being a princess. I say to myself, `I am a princess, and I am a fairy one, and because I am a fairy nothing can hurt me or make me uncomfortable.' You don't know how it makes you forget"-- with a laugh. + + She had many opportunities of making her mind think of something else, and many opportunities of proving to herself whether or not she was a princess. But one of the strongest tests she was ever put to came on a certain dreadful day which, she often thought afterward, would never quite fade out of her memory even in the years to come. + + For several days it had rained continuously; the streets were chilly and sloppy and full of dreary, cold mist; there was mud everywhere--sticky London mud--and over everything the pall of drizzle and fog. Of course there were several long and tiresome errands to be done--there always were on days like this--and Sara was sent out again and again, until her shabby clothes were damp through. The absurd old feathers on her forlorn hat were more draggled and absurd than ever, and her downtrodden shoes were so wet that they could not hold any more water. Added to this, she had been deprived of her dinner, because Miss Minchin had chosen to punish her. She was so cold and hungry and tired that her face began to have a pinched look, and now and then some kind-hearted person passing her in the street glanced at her with sudden sympathy. But she did not know that. She hurried on, trying to make her mind think of something else. It was really very necessary. Her way of doing it was to "pretend" and "suppose" with all the strength that was left in her. But really this time it was harder than she had ever found it, and once or twice she thought it almost made her more cold and hungry instead of less so. But she persevered obstinately, and as the muddy water squelched through her broken shoes and the wind seemed trying to drag her thin jacket from her, she talked to herself as she walked, though she did not speak aloud or even move her lips. + + "Suppose I had dry clothes on," she thought. "Suppose I had good shoes and a long, thick coat and merino stockings and a whole umbrella. And suppose--suppose--just when I was near a baker's where they sold hot buns, I should find sixpence--which belonged to nobody. SUPPOSE if I did, I should go into the shop and buy six of the hottest buns and eat them all without stopping." + + Some very odd things happen in this world sometimes. + + It certainly was an odd thing that happened to Sara. She had to cross the street just when she was saying this to herself. The mud was dreadful--she almost had to wade. She picked her way as carefully as she could, but she could not save herself much; only, in picking her way, she had to look down at her feet and the mud, and in looking down--just as she reached the pavement-- she saw something shining in the gutter. It was actually a piece of silver--a tiny piece trodden upon by many feet, but still with spirit enough left to shine a little. Not quite a sixpence, but the next thing to it--a fourpenny piece. + + In one second it was in her cold little red-and-blue hand. + + "Oh," she gasped, "it is true! It is true!" + + And then, if you will believe me, she looked straight at the shop directly facing her. And it was a baker's shop, and a cheerful, stout, motherly woman with rosy cheeks was putting into the window a tray of delicious newly baked hot buns, fresh from the oven--large, plump, shiny buns, with currants in them. + + It almost made Sara feel faint for a few seconds--the shock, and the sight of the buns, and the delightful odors of warm bread floating up through the baker's cellar window. + + She knew she need not hesitate to use the little piece of money. It had evidently been lying in the mud for some time, and its owner was completely lost in the stream of passing people who crowded and jostled each other all day long. + + "But I'll go and ask the baker woman if she has lost anything," she said to herself, rather faintly. So she crossed the pavement and put her wet foot on the step. As she did so she saw something that made her stop. + + It was a little figure more forlorn even than herself--a little figure which was not much more than a bundle of rags, from which small, bare, red muddy feet peeped out, only because the rags with which their owner was trying to cover them were not long enough. Above the rags appeared a shock head of tangled hair, and a dirty face with big, hollow, hungry eyes. + + Sara knew they were hungry eyes the moment she saw them, and she felt a sudden sympathy. + + "This," she said to herself, with a little sigh, "is one of the populace--and she is hungrier than I am." + + The child--this "one of the populace"--stared up at Sara, and shuffled herself aside a little, so as to give her room to pass. She was used to being made to give room to everybody. She knew that if a policeman chanced to see her he would tell her to "move on." + + Sara clutched her little fourpenny piece and hesitated for a few seconds. Then she spoke to her. + + "Are you hungry?" she asked. + + The child shuffled herself and her rags a little more. + + "Ain't I jist?" she said in a hoarse voice. "Jist ain't I?" + + "Haven't you had any dinner?" said Sara. + + "No dinner," more hoarsely still and with more shuffling. "Nor yet no bre'fast--nor yet no supper. No nothin'. + + "Since when?" asked Sara. + + "Dunno. Never got nothin' today--nowhere. I've axed an' axed." + + Just to look at her made Sara more hungry and faint. But those queer little thoughts were at work in her brain, and she was talking to herself, though she was sick at heart. + + "If I'm a princess," she was saying, "if I'm a princess--when they were poor and driven from their thrones--they always shared-- with the populace--if they met one poorer and hungrier than themselves. They always shared. Buns are a penny each. If it had been sixpence I could have eaten six. It won't be enough for either of us. But it will be better than nothing." + + "Wait a minute," she said to the beggar child. + + She went into the shop. It was warm and smelled deliciously. The woman was just going to put some more hot buns into the window. + + "If you please," said Sara, "have you lost fourpence--a silver fourpence?" And she held the forlorn little piece of money out to her. + + The woman looked at it and then at her--at her intense little face and draggled, once fine clothes. + + "Bless us, no," she answered. "Did you find it?" + + "Yes," said Sara. "In the gutter." + + "Keep it, then," said the woman. "It may have been there for a week, and goodness knows who lost it. YOU could never find out." + + "I know that," said Sara, "but I thought I would ask you." + + "Not many would," said the woman, looking puzzled and interested and good-natured all at once. + + "Do you want to buy something?" she added, as she saw Sara glance at the buns. + + "Four buns, if you please," said Sara. "Those at a penny each." + + The woman went to the window and put some in a paper bag. + + Sara noticed that she put in six. + + "I said four, if you please," she explained. "I have only fourpence." + + "I'll throw in two for makeweight," said the woman with her good- natured look. "I dare say you can eat them sometime. Aren't you hungry?" + + A mist rose before Sara's eyes. + + "Yes," she answered. "I am very hungry, and I am much obliged to you for your kindness; and"--she was going to add--"there is a child outside who is hungrier than I am." But just at that moment two or three customers came in at once, and each one seemed in a hurry, so she could only thank the woman again and go out. + + The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner of the step. She looked frightful in her wet and dirty rags. She was staring straight before her with a stupid look of suffering, and Sara saw her suddenly draw the back of her roughened black hand across her eyes to rub away the tears which seemed to have surprised her by forcing their way from under her lids. She was muttering to herself. + + Sara opened the paper bag and took out one of the hot buns, which had already warmed her own cold hands a little. + + "See," she said, putting the bun in the ragged lap, "this is nice and hot. Eat it, and you will not feel so hungry." + + The child started and stared up at her, as if such sudden, amazing good luck almost frightened her; then she snatched up the bun and began to cram it into her mouth with great wolfish bites. + + "Oh, my! Oh, my!" Sara heard her say hoarsely, in wild delight. "OH my!" + + Sara took out three more buns and put them down. + + The sound in the hoarse, ravenous voice was awful. + + "She is hungrier than I am," she said to herself. "She's starving." But her hand trembled when she put down the fourth bun. "I'm not starving," she said--and she put down the fifth. + + The little ravening London savage was still snatching and devouring when she turned away. She was too ravenous to give any thanks, even if she had ever been taught politeness--which she had not. She was only a poor little wild animal. + + "Good-bye," said Sara. + + When she reached the other side of the street she looked back. The child had a bun in each hand and had stopped in the middle of a bite to watch her. Sara gave her a little nod, and the child, after another stare--a curious lingering stare--jerked her shaggy head in response, and until Sara was out of sight she did not take another bite or even finish the one she had begun. + + At that moment the baker-woman looked out of her shop window. + + "Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "If that young un hasn't given her buns to a beggar child! It wasn't because she didn't want them, either. Well, well, she looked hungry enough. I'd give something to know what she did it for." + + She stood behind her window for a few moments and pondered. Then her curiosity got the better of her. She went to the door and spoke to the beggar child. + + "Who gave you those buns?" she asked her. The child nodded her head toward Sara's vanishing figure. + + "What did she say?" inquired the woman. + + "Axed me if I was 'ungry," replied the hoarse voice. + + "What did you say?" + + "Said I was jist." + + "And then she came in and got the buns, and gave them to you, did she?" + + The child nodded. + + "How many?" + + "Five." + + The woman thought it over. + + "Left just one for herself," she said in a low voice. "And she could have eaten the whole six--I saw it in her eyes." + + She looked after the little draggled far-away figure and felt more disturbed in her usually comfortable mind than she had felt for many a day. + + "I wish she hadn't gone so quick," she said. "I'm blest if she shouldn't have had a dozen." Then she turned to the child. + + "Are you hungry yet?" she said. + + "I'm allus hungry," was the answer, "but 't ain't as bad as it was." + + "Come in here," said the woman, and she held open the shop door. + + The child got up and shuffled in. To be invited into a warm place full of bread seemed an incredible thing. She did not know what was going to happen. She did not care, even. + + "Get yourself warm," said the woman, pointing to a fire in the tiny back room. "And look here; when you are hard up for a bit of bread, you can come in here and ask for it. I'm blest if I won't give it to you for that young one's sake." * * * + + Sara found some comfort in her remaining bun. At all events, it was very hot, and it was better than nothing. As she walked along she broke off small pieces and ate them slowly to make them last longer. + + "Suppose it was a magic bun," she said, "and a bite was as much as a whole dinner. I should be overeating myself if I went on like this." + + It was dark when she reached the square where the Select Seminary was situated. The lights in the houses were all lighted. The blinds were not yet drawn in the windows of the room where she nearly always caught glimpses of members of the Large Family. Frequently at this hour she could see the gentleman she called Mr. Montmorency sitting in a big chair, with a small swarm round him, talking, laughing, perching on the arms of his seat or on his knees or leaning against them. This evening the swarm was about him, but he was not seated. On the contrary, there was a good deal of excitement going on. It was evident that a journey was to be taken, and it was Mr. Montmorency who was to take it. A brougham stood before the door, and a big portmanteau had been strapped upon it. The children were dancing about, chattering and hanging on to their father. The pretty rosy mother was standing near him, talking as if she was asking final questions. Sara paused a moment to see the little ones lifted up and kissed and the bigger ones bent over and kissed also. + + "I wonder if he will stay away long," she thought. "The portmanteau is rather big. Oh, dear, how they will miss him! I shall miss him myself--even though he doesn't know I am alive." + + When the door opened she moved away--remembering the sixpence-- but she saw the traveler come out and stand against the background of the warmly-lighted hall, the older children still hovering about him. + + "Will Moscow be covered with snow?" said the little girl Janet. "Will there be ice everywhere?" + + "Shall you drive in a drosky?" cried another. "Shall you see the Czar?" + + "I will write and tell you all about it," he answered, laughing. "And I will send you pictures of muzhiks and things. Run into the house. It is a hideous damp night. I would rather stay with you than go to Moscow. Good night! Good night, duckies! God bless you!" And he ran down the steps and jumped into the brougham. + + "If you find the little girl, give her our love," shouted Guy Clarence, jumping up and down on the door mat. + + Then they went in and shut the door. + + "Did you see," said Janet to Nora, as they went back to the room- -"the little-girl-who-is-not-a-beggar was passing? She looked all cold and wet, and I saw her turn her head over her shoulder and look at us. Mamma says her clothes always look as if they had been given her by someone who was quite rich--someone who only let her have them because they were too shabby to wear. The people at the school always send her out on errands on the horridest days and nights there are." + + Sara crossed the square to Miss Minchin's area steps, feeling faint and shaky. + + "I wonder who the little girl is," she thought--"the little girl he is going to look for." + + And she went down the area steps, lugging her basket and finding it very heavy indeed, as the father of the Large Family drove quickly on his way to the station to take the train which was to carry him to Moscow, where he was to make his best efforts to search for the lost little daughter of Captain Crewe. + + 14 + + What Melchisedec Heard and Saw + + On this very afternoon, while Sara was out, a strange thing happened in the attic. Only Melchisedec saw and heard it; and he was so much alarmed and mystified that he scuttled back to his hole and hid there, and really quaked and trembled as he peeped out furtively and with great caution to watch what was going on. + + The attic had been very still all the day after Sara had left it in the early morning. The stillness had only been broken by the pattering of the rain upon the slates and the skylight. Melchisedec had, in fact, found it rather dull; and when the rain ceased to patter and perfect silence reigned, he decided to come out and reconnoiter, though experience taught him that Sara would not return for some time. He had been rambling and sniffing about, and had just found a totally unexpected and unexplained crumb left from his last meal, when his attention was attracted by a sound on the roof. He stopped to listen with a palpitating heart. The sound suggested that something was moving on the roof. It was approaching the skylight; it reached the skylight. The skylight was being mysteriously opened. A dark face peered into the attic; then another face appeared behind it, and both looked in with signs of caution and interest. Two men were outside on the roof, and were making silent preparations to enter through the skylight itself. One was Ram Dass and the other was a young man who was the Indian gentleman's secretary; but of course Melchisedec did not know this. He only knew that the men were invading the silence and privacy of the attic; and as the one with the dark face let himself down through the aperture with such lightness and dexterity that he did not make the slightest sound, Melchisedec turned tail and fled precipitately back to his hole. He was frightened to death. He had ceased to be timid with Sara, and knew she would never throw anything but crumbs, and would never make any sound other than the soft, low, coaxing whistling; but strange men were dangerous things to remain near. He lay close and flat near the entrance of his home, just managing to peep through the crack with a bright, alarmed eye. How much he understood of the talk he heard I am not in the least able to say; but, even if he had understood it all, he would probably have remained greatly mystified. + + The secretary, who was light and young, slipped through the skylight as noiselessly as Ram Dass had done; and he caught a last glimpse of Melchisedec's vanishing tail. + + "Was that a rat?" he asked Ram Dass in a whisper. + + "Yes; a rat, Sahib," answered Ram Dass, also whispering. "There are many in the walls." + + "Ugh!" exclaimed the young man. "It is a wonder the child is not terrified of them." + + Ram Dass made a gesture with his hands. He also smiled respectfully. He was in this place as the intimate exponent of Sara, though she had only spoken to him once. + + "The child is the little friend of all things, Sahib," he answered. "She is not as other children. I see her when she does not see me. I slip across the slates and look at her many nights to see that she is safe. I watch her from my window when she does not know I am near. She stands on the table there and looks out at the sky as if it spoke to her. The sparrows come at her call. The rat she has fed and tamed in her loneliness. The poor slave of the house comes to her for comfort. There is a little child who comes to her in secret; there is one older who worships her and would listen to her forever if she might. This I have seen when I have crept across the roof. By the mistress of the house--who is an evil woman--she is treated like a pariah; but she has the bearing of a child who is of the blood of kings!" + + "You seem to know a great deal about her," the secretary said. + + "All her life each day I know," answered Ram Dass. "Her going out I know, and her coming in; her sadness and her poor joys; her coldness and her hunger. I know when she is alone until midnight, learning from her books; I know when her secret friends steal to her and she is happier--as children can be, even in the midst of poverty--because they come and she may laugh and talk with them in whispers. If she were ill I should know, and I would come and serve her if it might be done." + + "You are sure no one comes near this place but herself, and that she will not return and surprise us. She would be frightened if she found us here, and the Sahib Carrisford's plan would be spoiled." + + Ram Dass crossed noiselessly to the door and stood close to it. + + "None mount here but herself, Sahib," he said. "She has gone out with her basket and may be gone for hours. If I stand here I can hear any step before it reaches the last flight of the stairs." + + The secretary took a pencil and a tablet from his breast pocket. + + "Keep your ears open," he said; and he began to walk slowly and softly round the miserable little room, making rapid notes on his tablet as he looked at things. + + First he went to the narrow bed. He pressed his hand upon the mattress and uttered an exclamation. + + "As hard as a stone," he said. "That will have to be altered some day when she is out. A special journey can be made to bring it across. It cannot be done tonight." He lifted the covering and examined the one thin pillow. + + "Coverlet dingy and worn, blanket thin, sheets patched and ragged," he said. "What a bed for a child to sleep in--and in a house which calls itself respectable! There has not been a fire in that grate for many a day," glancing at the rusty fireplace. + + "Never since I have seen it," said Ram Dass. "The mistress of the house is not one who remembers that another than herself may be cold." + + The secretary was writing quickly on his tablet. He looked up from it as he tore off a leaf and slipped it into his breast pocket. + + "It is a strange way of doing the thing," he said. "Who planned it?" + + Ram Dass made a modestly apologetic obeisance. + + "It is true that the first thought was mine, Sahib," he said; "though it was naught but a fancy. I am fond of this child; we are both lonely. It is her way to relate her visions to her secret friends. Being sad one night, I lay close to the open skylight and listened. The vision she related told what this miserable room might be if it had comforts in it. She seemed to see it as she talked, and she grew cheered and warmed as she spoke. Then she came to this fancy; and the next day, the Sahib being ill and wretched, I told him of the thing to amuse him. It seemed then but a dream, but it pleased the Sahib. To hear of the child's doings gave him entertainment. He became interested in her and asked questions. At last he began to please himself with the thought of making her visions real things." + + "You think that it can be done while she sleeps? Suppose she awakened," suggested the secretary; and it was evident that whatsoever the plan referred to was, it had caught and pleased his fancy as well as the Sahib Carrisford's. + + "I can move as if my feet were of velvet," Ram Dass replied; "and children sleep soundly--even the unhappy ones. I could have entered this room in the night many times, and without causing her to turn upon her pillow. If the other bearer passes to me the things through the window, I can do all and she will not stir. When she awakens she will think a magician has been here." + + He smiled as if his heart warmed under his white robe, and the secretary smiled back at him. + + "It will be like a story from the Arabian Nights," he said. "Only an Oriental could have planned it. It does not belong to London fogs." + + They did not remain very long, to the great relief of Melchisedec, who, as he probably did not comprehend their conversation, felt their movements and whispers ominous. The young secretary seemed interested in everything. He wrote down things about the floor, the fireplace, the broken footstool, the old table, the walls--which last he touched with his hand again and again, seeming much pleased when he found that a number of old nails had been driven in various places. + + "You can hang things on them," he said. + + Ram Dass smiled mysteriously. + + "Yesterday, when she was out," he said, "I entered, bringing with me small, sharp nails which can be pressed into the wall without blows from a hammer. I placed many in the plaster where I may need them. They are ready." + + The Indian gentleman's secretary stood still and looked round him as he thrust his tablets back into his pocket. + + "I think I have made notes enough; we can go now," he said. "The Sahib Carrisford has a warm heart. It is a thousand pities that he has not found the lost child." + + "If he should find her his strength would be restored to him," said Ram Dass. "His God may lead her to him yet." + + Then they slipped through the skylight as noiselessly as they had entered it. And, after he was quite sure they had gone, Melchisedec was greatly relieved, and in the course of a few minutes felt it safe to emerge from his hole again and scuffle about in the hope that even such alarming human beings as these might have chanced to carry crumbs in their pockets and drop one or two of them. + + + + 15 + + The Magic + + When Sara had passed the house next door she had seen Ram Dass closing the shutters, and caught her glimpse of this room also. + + "It is a long time since I saw a nice place from the inside," was the thought which crossed her mind. + + There was the usual bright fire glowing in the grate, and the Indian gentleman was sitting before it. His head was resting in his hand, and he looked as lonely and unhappy as ever. + + "Poor man!" said Sara. "I wonder what you are supposing." + + And this was what he was "supposing" at that very moment. + + "Suppose," he was thinking, "suppose--even if Carmichael traces the people to Moscow--the little girl they took from Madame Pascal's school in Paris is NOT the one we are in search of. Suppose she proves to be quite a different child. What steps shall I take next?" + + When Sara went into the house she met Miss Minchin, who had come downstairs to scold the cook. + + "Where have you wasted your time?" she demanded. "You have been out for hours." + + "It was so wet and muddy," Sara answered, "it was hard to walk, because my shoes were so bad and slipped about." + + "Make no excuses," said Miss Minchin, "and tell no falsehoods." + + Sara went in to the cook. The cook had received a severe lecture and was in a fearful temper as a result. She was only too rejoiced to have someone to vent her rage on, and Sara was a convenience, as usual. + + "Why didn't you stay all night?" she snapped. + + Sara laid her purchases on the table. + + "Here are the things," she said. + + The cook looked them over, grumbling. She was in a very savage humor indeed. + + "May I have something to eat?" Sara asked rather faintly. + + "Tea's over and done with," was the answer. "Did you expect me to keep it hot for you?" + + Sara stood silent for a second. + + "I had no dinner," she said next, and her voice was quite low. She made it low because she was afraid it would tremble. + + "There's some bread in the pantry," said the cook. "That's all you'll get at this time of day." + + Sara went and found the bread. It was old and hard and dry. The cook was in too vicious a humor to give her anything to eat with it. It was always safe and easy to vent her spite on Sara. Really, it was hard for the child to climb the three long flights of stairs leading to her attic. She often found them long and steep when she was tired; but tonight it seemed as if she would never reach the top. Several times she was obliged to stop to rest. When she reached the top landing she was glad to see the glimmer of a light coming from under her door. That meant that Ermengarde had managed to creep up to pay her a visit. There was some comfort in that. It was better than to go into the room alone and find it empty and desolate. The mere presence of plump, comfortable Ermengarde, wrapped in her red shawl, would warm it a little. + + Yes; there Ermengarde was when she opened the door. She was sitting in the middle of the bed, with her feet tucked safely under her. She had never become intimate with Melchisedec and his family, though they rather fascinated her. When she found herself alone in the attic she always preferred to sit on the bed until Sara arrived. She had, in fact, on this occasion had time to become rather nervous, because Melchisedec had appeared and sniffed about a good deal, and once had made her utter a repressed squeal by sitting up on his hind legs and, while he looked at her, sniffing pointedly in her direction. + + "Oh, Sara," she cried out, "I am glad you have come. Melchy WOULD sniff about so. I tried to coax him to go back, but he wouldn't for such a long time. I like him, you know; but it does frighten me when he sniffs right at me. Do you think he ever WOULD jump?" + + "No," answered Sara. + + Ermengarde crawled forward on the bed to look at her. + + "You DO look tired, Sara," she said; "you are quite pale." + + "I AM tired," said Sara, dropping on to the lopsided footstool. "Oh, there's Melchisedec, poor thing. He's come to ask for his supper." + + Melchisedec had come out of his hole as if he had been listening for her footstep. Sara was quite sure he knew it. He came forward with an affectionate, expectant expression as Sara put her hand in her pocket and turned it inside out, shaking her head. + + "I'm very sorry," she said. "I haven't one crumb left. Go home, Melchisedec, and tell your wife there was nothing in my pocket. I'm afraid I forgot because the cook and Miss Minchin were so cross." + + Melchisedec seemed to understand. He shuffled resignedly, if not contentedly, back to his home. + + "I did not expect to see you tonight, Ermie," Sara said. Ermengarde hugged herself in the red shawl. + + "Miss Amelia has gone out to spend the night with her old aunt," she explained. "No one else ever comes and looks into the bedrooms after we are in bed. I could stay here until morning if I wanted to." + + She pointed toward the table under the skylight. Sara had not looked toward it as she came in. A number of books were piled upon it. Ermengarde's gesture was a dejected one. + + "Papa has sent me some more books, Sara," she said. "There they are." + + Sara looked round and got up at once. She ran to the table, and picking up the top volume, turned over its leaves quickly. For the moment she forgot her discomforts. + + "Ah," she cried out, "how beautiful! Carlyle's French Revolution. I have SO wanted to read that!" + + "I haven't," said Ermengarde. "And papa will be so cross if I don't. He'll expect me to know all about it when I go home for the holidays. What SHALL I do?" + + Sara stopped turning over the leaves and looked at her with an excited flush on her cheeks. + + "Look here," she cried, "if you'll lend me these books, _I'll_ read them--and tell you everything that's in them afterward-- and I'll tell it so that you will remember it, too." + + "Oh, goodness!" exclaimed Ermengarde. "Do you think you can?" + + "I know I can," Sara answered. "The little ones always remember what I tell them." + + "Sara," said Ermengarde, hope gleaming in her round face, "if you'll do that, and make me remember, I'll--I'll give you anything." + + "I don't want you to give me anything," said Sara. "I want your books--I want them!" And her eyes grew big, and her chest heaved. + + "Take them, then," said Ermengarde. "I wish I wanted them--but I don't. I'm not clever, and my father is, and he thinks I ought to be." + + Sara was opening one book after the other. "What are you going to tell your father?" she asked, a slight doubt dawning in her mind. + + "Oh, he needn't know," answered Ermengarde. "He'll think I've read them." + + Sara put down her book and shook her head slowly. "That's almost like telling lies," she said. "And lies--well, you see, they are not only wicked--they're VULGAR. Sometimes"-- reflectively--"I've thought perhaps I might do something wicked-- I might suddenly fly into a rage and kill Miss Minchin, you know, when she was ill-treating me--but I COULDN'T be vulgar. Why can't you tell your father I read them?" + + "He wants me to read them," said Ermengarde, a little discouraged by this unexpected turn of affairs. + + "He wants you to know what is in them," said Sara. "And if I can tell it to you in an easy way and make you remember it, I should think he would like that." + + "He'll like it if I learn anything in ANY way," said rueful Ermengarde. "You would if you were my father." + + "It's not your fault that--" began Sara. She pulled herself up and stopped rather suddenly. She had been going to say, "It's not your fault that you are stupid." + + "That what?" Ermengarde asked. + + "That you can't learn things quickly," amended Sara. "If you can't, you can't. If I can--why, I can; that's all." + + She always felt very tender of Ermengarde, and tried not to let her feel too strongly the difference between being able to learn anything at once, and not being able to learn anything at all. As she looked at her plump face, one of her wise, old-fashioned thoughts came to her. + + "Perhaps," she said, "to be able to learn things quickly isn't everything. To be kind is worth a great deal to other people. If Miss Minchin knew everything on earth and was like what she is now, she'd still be a detestable thing, and everybody would hate her. Lots of clever people have done harm and have been wicked. Look at Robespierre--" + + She stopped and examined Ermengarde's countenance, which was beginning to look bewildered. "Don't you remember?" she demanded. "I told you about him not long ago. I believe you've forgotten." + + "Well, I don't remember ALL of it," admitted Ermengarde. + + "Well, you wait a minute," said Sara, "and I'll take off my wet things and wrap myself in the coverlet and tell you over again." + + She took off her hat and coat and hung them on a nail against the wall, and she changed her wet shoes for an old pair of slippers. Then she jumped on the bed, and drawing the coverlet about her shoulders, sat with her arms round her knees. "Now, listen," she said. + + She plunged into the gory records of the French Revolution, and told such stories of it that Ermengarde's eyes grew round with alarm and she held her breath. But though she was rather terrified, there was a delightful thrill in listening, and she was not likely to forget Robespierre again, or to have any doubts about the Princesse de Lamballe. + + "You know they put her head on a pike and danced round it," Sara explained. "And she had beautiful floating blonde hair; and when I think of her, I never see her head on her body, but always on a pike, with those furious people dancing and howling." + + It was agreed that Mr. St. John was to be told the plan they had made, and for the present the books were to be left in the attic. + + "Now let's tell each other things," said Sara. "How are you getting on with your French lessons?" + + "Ever so much better since the last time I came up here and you explained the conjugations. Miss Minchin could not understand why I did my exercises so well that first morning." + + Sara laughed a little and hugged her knees. + + "She doesn't understand why Lottie is doing her sums so well," she said; "but it is because she creeps up here, too, and I help her." She glanced round the room. "The attic would be rather nice--if it wasn't so dreadful," she said, laughing again. "It's a good place to pretend in." + + The truth was that Ermengarde did not know anything of the sometimes almost unbearable side of life in the attic and she had not a sufficiently vivid imagination to depict it for herself. On the rare occasions that she could reach Sara's room she only saw the side of it which was made exciting by things which were "pretended" and stories which were told. Her visits partook of the character of adventures; and though sometimes Sara looked rather pale, and it was not to be denied that she had grown very thin, her proud little spirit would not admit of complaints. She had never confessed that at times she was almost ravenous with hunger, as she was tonight. She was growing rapidly, and her constant walking and running about would have given her a keen appetite even if she had had abundant and regular meals of a much more nourishing nature than the unappetizing, inferior food snatched at such odd times as suited the kitchen convenience. She was growing used to a certain gnawing feeling in her young stomach. + + "I suppose soldiers feel like this when they are on a long and weary march," she often said to herself. She liked the sound of the phrase, "long and weary march." It made her feel rather like a soldier. She had also a quaint sense of being a hostess in the attic. + + "If I lived in a castle," she argued, "and Ermengarde was the lady of another castle, and came to see me, with knights and squires and vassals riding with her, and pennons flying, when I heard the clarions sounding outside the drawbridge I should go down to receive her, and I should spread feasts in the banquet hall and call in minstrels to sing and play and relate romances. When she comes into the attic I can't spread feasts, but I can tell stories, and not let her know disagreeable things. I dare say poor chatelaines had to do that in time of famine, when their lands had been pillaged." She was a proud, brave little chatelaine, and dispensed generously the one hospitality she could offer--the dreams she dreamed--the visions she saw--the imaginings which were her joy and comfort. + + So, as they sat together, Ermengarde did not know that she was faint as well as ravenous, and that while she talked she now and then wondered if her hunger would let her sleep when she was left alone. She felt as if she had never been quite so hungry before. + + "I wish I was as thin as you, Sara," Ermengarde said suddenly. "I believe you are thinner than you used to be. Your eyes look so big, and look at the sharp little bones sticking out of your elbow!" + + Sara pulled down her sleeve, which had pushed itself up. + + "I always was a thin child," she said bravely, "and I always had big green eyes." + + "I love your queer eyes," said Ermengarde, looking into them with affectionate admiration. "They always look as if they saw such a long way. I love them--and I love them to be green--though they look black generally." + + "They are cat's eyes," laughed Sara; "but I can't see in the dark with them--because I have tried, and I couldn't--I wish I could." + + It was just at this minute that something happened at the skylight which neither of them saw. If either of them had chanced to turn and look, she would have been startled by the sight of a dark face which peered cautiously into the room and disappeared as quickly and almost as silently as it had appeared. Not QUITE as silently, however. Sara, who had keen ears, suddenly turned a little and looked up at the roof. + + "That didn't sound like Melchisedec," she said. "It wasn't scratchy enough." + + "What?" said Ermengarde, a little startled. + + "Didn't you think you heard something?" asked Sara. + + "N-no," Ermengarde faltered. "Did you?" {another ed. has "No- no,"} + + "Perhaps I didn't," said Sara; "but I thought I did. It sounded as if something was on the slates--something that dragged softly." + + "What could it be?" said Ermengarde. "Could it be--robbers?" + + "No," Sara began cheerfully. "There is nothing to steal--" + + She broke off in the middle of her words. They both heard the sound that checked her. It was not on the slates, but on the stairs below, and it was Miss Minchin's angry voice. Sara sprang off the bed, and put out the candle. + + "She is scolding Becky," she whispered, as she stood in the darkness. "She is making her cry." + + "Will she come in here?" Ermengarde whispered back, panic- stricken. + + "No. She will think I am in bed. Don't stir." + + It was very seldom that Miss Minchin mounted the last flight of stairs. Sara could only remember that she had done it once before. But now she was angry enough to be coming at least part of the way up, and it sounded as if she was driving Becky before her. + + "You impudent, dishonest child!" they heard her say. "Cook tells me she has missed things repeatedly." + + "'T warn't me, mum," said Becky sobbing. "I was 'ungry enough, but 't warn't me--never!" + + "You deserve to be sent to prison," said Miss Minchin's voice. "Picking and stealing! Half a meat pie, indeed!" + + "'T warn't me," wept Becky. "I could 'ave eat a whole un--but I never laid a finger on it." + + Miss Minchin was out of breath between temper and mounting the stairs. The meat pie had been intended for her special late supper. It became apparent that she boxed Becky's ears. + + "Don't tell falsehoods," she said. "Go to your room this instant." + + Both Sara and Ermengarde heard the slap, and then heard Becky run in her slipshod shoes up the stairs and into her attic. They heard her door shut, and knew that she threw herself upon her bed. + + "I could 'ave e't two of 'em," they heard her cry into her pillow. "An' I never took a bite. 'Twas cook give it to her policeman." + + Sara stood in the middle of the room in the darkness. She was clenching her little teeth and opening and shutting fiercely her outstretched hands. She could scarcely stand still, but she dared not move until Miss Minchin had gone down the stairs and all was still. + + "The wicked, cruel thing!" she burst forth. "The cook takes things herself and then says Becky steals them. She DOESN'T! She DOESN'T! She's so hungry sometimes that she eats crusts out of the ash barrel!" She pressed her hands hard against her face and burst into passionate little sobs, and Ermengarde, hearing this unusual thing, was overawed by it. Sara was crying! The unconquerable Sara! It seemed to denote something new--some mood she had never known. Suppose--suppose--a new dread possibility presented itself to her kind, slow, little mind all at once. She crept off the bed in the dark and found her way to the table where the candle stood. She struck a match and lit the candle. When she had lighted it, she bent forward and looked at Sara, with her new thought growing to definite fear in her eyes. + + "Sara," she said in a timid, almost awe-stricken voice, are--are- -you never told me--I don't want to be rude, but--are YOU ever hungry?" + + It was too much just at that moment. The barrier broke down. Sara lifted her face from her hands. + + "Yes," she said in a new passionate way. "Yes, I am. I'm so hungry now that I could almost eat you. And it makes it worse to hear poor Becky. She's hungrier than I am." + + Ermengarde gasped. + + "Oh, oh!" she cried woefully. "And I never knew!" + + "I didn't want you to know," Sara said. "It would have made me feel like a street beggar. I know I look like a street beggar." + + "No, you don't--you don't!" Ermengarde broke in. "Your clothes are a little queer--but you couldn't look like a street beggar. You haven't a street-beggar face." + + "A little boy once gave me a sixpence for charity," said Sara, with a short little laugh in spite of herself. "Here it is." And she pulled out the thin ribbon from her neck. "He wouldn't have given me his Christmas sixpence if I hadn't looked as if I needed it." + + Somehow the sight of the dear little sixpence was good for both of them. It made them laugh a little, though they both had tears in their eyes. + + "Who was he?" asked Ermengarde, looking at it quite as if it had not been a mere ordinary silver sixpence. + + "He was a darling little thing going to a party," said Sara. "He was one of the Large Family, the little one with the round legs-- the one I call Guy Clarence. I suppose his nursery was crammed with Christmas presents and hampers full of cakes and things, and he could see I had nothing." + + Ermengarde gave a little jump backward. The last sentences had recalled something to her troubled mind and given her a sudden inspiration. + + "Oh, Sara!" she cried. "What a silly thing I am not to have thought of it!" + + "Of what?" + + "Something splendid!" said Ermengarde, in an excited hurry. "This very afternoon my nicest aunt sent me a box. It is full of good things. I never touched it, I had so much pudding at dinner, and I was so bothered about papa's books." Her words began to tumble over each other. "It's got cake in it, and little meat pies, and jam tarts and buns, and oranges and red- currant wine, and figs and chocolate. I'll creep back to my room and get it this minute, and we'll eat it now." + + Sara almost reeled. When one is faint with hunger the mention of food has sometimes a curious effect. She clutched Ermengarde's arm. + + "Do you think--you COULD?" she ejaculated. + + "I know I could," answered Ermengarde, and she ran to the door-- opened it softly--put her head out into the darkness, and listened. Then she went back to Sara. "The lights are out. Everybody's in bed. I can creep--and creep--and no one will hear." + + It was so delightful that they caught each other's hands and a sudden light sprang into Sara's eyes. + + "Ermie!" she said. "Let us PRETEND! Let us pretend it's a party! And oh, won't you invite the prisoner in the next cell?" + + "Yes! Yes! Let us knock on the wall now. The jailer won't hear." + + Sara went to the wall. Through it she could hear poor Becky crying more softly. She knocked four times. + + "That means, `Come to me through the secret passage under the wall,' she explained. `I have something to communicate.'" + + Five quick knocks answered her. + + "She is coming," she said. + + Almost immediately the door of the attic opened and Becky appeared. Her eyes were red and her cap was sliding off, and when she caught sight of Ermengarde she began to rub her face nervously with her apron. + + "Don't mind me a bit, Becky!" cried Ermengarde. + + "Miss Ermengarde has asked you to come in," said Sara, "because she is going to bring a box of good things up here to us." + + Becky's cap almost fell off entirely, she broke in with such excitement. + + "To eat, miss?" she said. "Things that's good to eat?" + + "Yes," answered Sara, "and we are going to pretend a party." + + "And you shall have as much as you WANT to eat," put in Ermengarde. "I'll go this minute!" + + She was in such haste that as she tiptoed out of the attic she dropped her red shawl and did not know it had fallen. No one saw it for a minute or so. Becky was too much overpowered by the good luck which had befallen her. + + "Oh, miss! oh, miss!" she gasped; "I know it was you that asked her to let me come. It--it makes me cry to think of it." And she went to Sara's side and stood and looked at her worshipingly. + + But in Sara's hungry eyes the old light had begun to glow and transform her world for her. Here in the attic--with the cold night outside-- with the afternoon in the sloppy streets barely passed--with the memory of the awful unfed look in the beggar child's eyes not yet faded--this simple, cheerful thing had happened like a thing of magic. + + She caught her breath. + + "Somehow, something always happens," she cried, "just before things get to the very worst. It is as if the Magic did it. If I could only just remember that always. The worst thing never QUITE comes." + + She gave Becky a little cheerful shake. + + "No, no! You mustn't cry!" she said. "We must make haste and set the table." + + "Set the table, miss?" said Becky, gazing round the room. "What'll we set it with?" + + Sara looked round the attic, too. + + "There doesn't seem to be much," she answered, half laughing. + + That moment she saw something and pounced upon it. It was Ermengarde's red shawl which lay upon the floor. + + "Here's the shawl," she cried. "I know she won't mind it. It will make such a nice red tablecloth." + + They pulled the old table forward, and threw the shawl over it. Red is a wonderfully kind and comfortable color. It began to make the room look furnished directly. + + "How nice a red rug would look on the floor!" exclaimed Sara. "We must pretend there is one!" + + Her eye swept the bare boards with a swift glance of admiration. The rug was laid down already. + + "How soft and thick it is!" she said, with the little laugh which Becky knew the meaning of; and she raised and set her foot down again delicately, as if she felt something under it. + + "Yes, miss," answered Becky, watching her with serious rapture. She was always quite serious. + + "What next, now?" said Sara, and she stood still and put her hands over her eyes. "Something will come if I think and wait a little"--in a soft, expectant voice. "The Magic will tell me." + + One of her favorite fancies was that on "the outside," as she called it, thoughts were waiting for people to call them. Becky had seen her stand and wait many a time before, and knew that in a few seconds she would uncover an enlightened, laughing face. + + In a moment she did. + + "There!" she cried. "It has come! I know now! I must look among the things in the old trunk I had when I was a princess." + + She flew to its corner and kneeled down. It had not been put in the attic for her benefit, but because there was no room for it elsewhere. Nothing had been left in it but rubbish. But she knew she should find something. The Magic always arranged that kind of thing in one way or another. + + In a corner lay a package so insignificant-looking that it had been overlooked, and when she herself had found it she had kept it as a relic. It contained a dozen small white handkerchiefs. She seized them joyfully and ran to the table. She began to arrange them upon the red table-cover, patting and coaxing them into shape with the narrow lace edge curling outward, her Magic working its spells for her as she did it. + + "These are the plates," she said. "They are golden plates. These are the richly embroidered napkins. Nuns worked them in convents in Spain." + + "Did they, miss?" breathed Becky, her very soul uplifted by the information. + + "You must pretend it," said Sara. "If you pretend it enough, you will see them." + + "Yes, miss," said Becky; and as Sara returned to the trunk she devoted herself to the effort of accomplishing an end so much to be desired. + + Sara turned suddenly to find her standing by the table, looking very queer indeed. She had shut her eyes, and was twisting her face in strange convulsive contortions, her hands hanging stiffly clenched at her sides. She looked as if she was trying to lift some enormous weight. + + "What is the matter, Becky?" Sara cried. "What are you doing?" + + Becky opened her eyes with a start. + + "I was a-'pretendin',' miss," she answered a little sheepishly; "I was tryin' to see it like you do. I almost did," with a hopeful grin. "But it takes a lot o' stren'th." + + "Perhaps it does if you are not used to it," said Sara, with friendly sympathy; "but you don't know how easy it is when you've done it often. I wouldn't try so hard just at first. It will come to you after a while. I'll just tell you what things are. Look at these." + + She held an old summer hat in her hand which she had fished out of the bottom of the trunk. There was a wreath of flowers on it. She pulled the wreath off. + + "These are garlands for the feast," she said grandly. "They fill all the air with perfume. There's a mug on the wash-stand, Becky. Oh--and bring the soap dish for a centerpiece." + + Becky handed them to her reverently. + + "What are they now, miss?" she inquired. "You'd think they was made of crockery--but I know they ain't." + + "This is a carven flagon," said Sara, arranging tendrils of the wreath about the mug. "And this"--bending tenderly over the soap dish and heaping it with roses--"is purest alabaster encrusted with gems." + + She touched the things gently, a happy smile hovering about her lips which made her look as if she were a creature in a dream. + + "My, ain't it lovely!" whispered Becky. + + "If we just had something for bonbon dishes," Sara murmured. "There!"--darting to the trunk again. "I remember I saw something this minute." + + It was only a bundle of wool wrapped in red and white tissue paper, but the tissue paper was soon twisted into the form of little dishes, and was combined with the remaining flowers to ornament the candlestick which was to light the feast. Only the Magic could have made it more than an old table covered with a red shawl and set with rubbish from a long-unopened trunk. But Sara drew back and gazed at it, seeing wonders; and Becky, after staring in delight, spoke with bated breath. + + "This 'ere," she suggested, with a glance round the attic--"is it the Bastille now--or has it turned into somethin' different?" + + "Oh, yes, yes!" said Sara. "Quite different. It is a banquet hall!" + + "My eye, miss!" ejaculated Becky. "A blanket 'all!" and she turned to view the splendors about her with awed bewilderment. + + "A banquet hall," said Sara. "A vast chamber where feasts are given. It has a vaulted roof, and a minstrels' gallery, and a huge chimney filled with blazing oaken logs, and it is brilliant with waxen tapers twinkling on every side." + + "My eye, Miss Sara!" gasped Becky again. + + Then the door opened, and Ermengarde came in, rather staggering under the weight of her hamper. She started back with an exclamation of joy. To enter from the chill darkness outside, and find one's self confronted by a totally unanticipated festal board, draped with red, adorned with white napery, and wreathed with flowers, was to feel that the preparations were brilliant indeed. + + "Oh, Sara!" she cried out. "You are the cleverest girl I ever saw!" + + "Isn't it nice?" said Sara. "They are things out of my old trunk. I asked my Magic, and it told me to go and look." + + "But oh, miss," cried Becky, "wait till she's told you what they are! They ain't just--oh, miss, please tell her," appealing to Sara. + + So Sara told her, and because her Magic helped her she made her ALMOST see it all: the golden platters--the vaulted spaces--the blazing logs--the twinkling waxen tapers. As the things were taken out of the hamper--the frosted cakes--the fruits--the bonbons and the wine--the feast became a splendid thing. + + "It's like a real party!" cried Ermengarde. + + "It's like a queen's table," sighed Becky. + + Then Ermengarde had a sudden brilliant thought. + + "I'll tell you what, Sara," she said. "Pretend you are a princess now and this is a royal feast." + + "But it's your feast," said Sara; "you must be the princess, and we will be your maids of honor." + + "Oh, I can't," said Ermengarde. "I'm too fat, and I don't know how. YOU be her." + + "Well, if you want me to," said Sara. + + But suddenly she thought of something else and ran to the rusty grate. + + "There is a lot of paper and rubbish stuffed in here!" she exclaimed. "If we light it, there will be a bright blaze for a few minutes, and we shall feel as if it was a real fire." She struck a match and lighted it up with a great specious glow which illuminated the room. + + "By the time it stops blazing," Sara said, "we shall forget about its not being real." + + She stood in the dancing glow and smiled. + + "Doesn't it LOOK real?" she said. "Now we will begin the party." + + She led the way to the table. She waved her hand graciously to Ermengarde and Becky. She was in the midst of her dream. + + "Advance, fair damsels," she said in her happy dream-voice, "and be seated at the banquet table. My noble father, the king, who is absent on a long journey, has commanded me to feast you." She turned her head slightly toward the corner of the room. "What, ho, there, minstrels! Strike up with your viols and bassoons. Princesses," she explained rapidly to Ermengarde and Becky, "always had minstrels to play at their feasts. Pretend there is a minstrel gallery up there in the corner. Now we will begin." + + They had barely had time to take their pieces of cake into their hands--not one of them had time to do more, when--they all three sprang to their feet and turned pale faces toward the door-- listening--listening. + + Someone was coming up the stairs. There was no mistake about it. Each of them recognized the angry, mounting tread and knew that the end of all things had come. + + "It's--the missus!" choked Becky, and dropped her piece of cake upon the floor. + + "Yes," said Sara, her eyes growing shocked and large in her small white face. "Miss Minchin has found us out." + + Miss Minchin struck the door open with a blow of her hand. She was pale herself, but it was with rage. She looked from the frightened faces to the banquet table, and from the banquet table to the last flicker of the burnt paper in the grate. + + "I have been suspecting something of this sort," she exclaimed; "but I did not dream of such audacity. Lavinia was telling the truth." + + So they knew that it was Lavinia who had somehow guessed their secret and had betrayed them. Miss Minchin strode over to Becky and boxed her ears for a second time. + + "You impudent creature!" she said. "You leave the house in the morning!" + + Sara stood quite still, her eyes growing larger, her face paler. Ermengarde burst into tears. + + "Oh, don't send her away," she sobbed. "My aunt sent me the hamper. We're--only--having a party." + + "So I see," said Miss Minchin, witheringly. "With the Princess Sara at the head of the table." She turned fiercely on Sara. "It is your doing, I know," she cried. "Ermengarde would never have thought of such a thing. You decorated the table, I suppose--with this rubbish." She stamped her foot at Becky. "Go to your attic!" she commanded, and Becky stole away, her face hidden in her apron, her shoulders shaking. + + Then it was Sara's turn again. + + "I will attend to you tomorrow. You shall have neither breakfast, dinner, nor supper!" + + "I have not had either dinner or supper today, Miss Minchin," said Sara, rather faintly. + + "Then all the better. You will have something to remember. Don't stand there. Put those things into the hamper again." + + She began to sweep them off the table into the hamper herself, and caught sight of Ermengarde's new books. + + "And you"--to Ermengarde--"have brought your beautiful new books into this dirty attic. Take them up and go back to bed. You will stay there all day tomorrow, and I shall write to your papa. What would HE say if he knew where you are tonight?" + + Something she saw in Sara's grave, fixed gaze at this moment made her turn on her fiercely. + + "What are you thinking of?" she demanded. "Why do you look at me like that?" + + "I was wondering," answered Sara, as she had answered that notable day in the schoolroom. + + "What were you wondering?" + + It was very like the scene in the schoolroom. There was no pertness in Sara's manner. It was only sad and quiet. + + "I was wondering," she said in a low voice, "what MY papa would say if he knew where I am tonight." + + Miss Minchin was infuriated just as she had been before and her anger expressed itself, as before, in an intemperate fashion. She flew at her and shook her. + + "You insolent, unmanageable child!" she cried. "How dare you! How dare you!" + + She picked up the books, swept the rest of the feast back into the hamper in a jumbled heap, thrust it into Ermengarde's arms, and pushed her before her toward the door. + + "I will leave you to wonder," she said. "Go to bed this instant." And she shut the door behind herself and poor stumbling Ermengarde, and left Sara standing quite alone. + + The dream was quite at an end. The last spark had died out of the paper in the grate and left only black tinder; the table was left bare, the golden plates and richly embroidered napkins, and the garlands were transformed again into old handkerchiefs, scraps of red and white paper, and discarded artificial flowers all scattered on the floor; the minstrels in the minstrel gallery had stolen away, and the viols and bassoons were still. Emily was sitting with her back against the wall, staring very hard. Sara saw her, and went and picked her up with trembling hands. + + "There isn't any banquet left, Emily," she said. "And there isn't any princess. There is nothing left but the prisoners in the Bastille." And she sat down and hid her face. + + What would have happened if she had not hidden it just then, and if she had chanced to look up at the skylight at the wrong moment, I do not know--perhaps the end of this chapter might have been quite different--because if she had glanced at the skylight she would certainly have been startled by what she would have seen. She would have seen exactly the same face pressed against the glass and peering in at her as it had peered in earlier in the evening when she had been talking to Ermengarde. + + But she did not look up. She sat with her little black head in her arms for some time. She always sat like that when she was trying to bear something in silence. Then she got up and went slowly to the bed. + + "I can't pretend anything else--while I am awake," she said. "There wouldn't be any use in trying. If I go to sleep, perhaps a dream will come and pretend for me." + + She suddenly felt so tired--perhaps through want of food--that she sat down on the edge of the bed quite weakly. + + "Suppose there was a bright fire in the grate, with lots of little dancing flames," she murmured. "Suppose there was a comfortable chair before it--and suppose there was a small table near, with a little hot--hot supper on it. And suppose"--as she drew the thin coverings over her--"suppose this was a beautiful soft bed, with fleecy blankets and large downy pillows. Suppose-- suppose--" And her very weariness was good to her, for her eyes closed and she fell fast asleep. + + She did not know how long she slept. But she had been tired enough to sleep deeply and profoundly--too deeply and soundly to be disturbed by anything, even by the squeaks and scamperings of Melchisedec's entire family, if all his sons and daughters had chosen to come out of their hole to fight and tumble and play. + + When she awakened it was rather suddenly, and she did not know that any particular thing had called her out of her sleep. The truth was, however, that it was a sound which had called her back--a real sound--the click of the skylight as it fell in closing after a lithe white figure which slipped through it and crouched down close by upon the slates of the roof--just near enough to see what happened in the attic, but not near enough to be seen. + + At first she did not open her eyes. She felt too sleepy and-- curiously enough--too warm and comfortable. She was so warm and comfortable, indeed, that she did not believe she was really awake. She never was as warm and cozy as this except in some lovely vision. + + "What a nice dream!" she murmured. "I feel quite warm. I--don't- -want--to--wake--up." + + Of course it was a dream. She felt as if warm, delightful bedclothes were heaped upon her. She could actually FEEL blankets, and when she put out her hand it touched something exactly like a satin-covered eider-down quilt. She must not awaken from this delight--she must be quite still and make it last. + + But she could not--even though she kept her eyes closed tightly, she could not. Something was forcing her to awaken--something in the room. It was a sense of light, and a sound--the sound of a crackling, roaring little fire. + + "Oh, I am awakening," she said mournfully. "I can't help it--I can't." + + Her eyes opened in spite of herself. And then she actually smiled--for what she saw she had never seen in the attic before, and knew she never should see. + + "Oh, I HAVEN'T awakened," she whispered, daring to rise on her elbow and look all about her. "I am dreaming yet." She knew it MUST be a dream, for if she were awake such things could not-- could not be. + + Do you wonder that she felt sure she had not come back to earth? This is what she saw. In the grate there was a glowing, blazing fire; on the hob was a little brass kettle hissing and boiling; spread upon the floor was a thick, warm crimson rug; before the fire a folding-chair, unfolded, and with cushions on it; by the chair a small folding-table, unfolded, covered with a white cloth, and upon it spread small covered dishes, a cup, a saucer, a teapot; on the bed were new warm coverings and a satin-covered down quilt; at the foot a curious wadded silk robe, a pair of quilted slippers, and some books. The room of her dream seemed changed into fairyland--and it was flooded with warm light, for a bright lamp stood on the table covered with a rosy shade. + + She sat up, resting on her elbow, and her breathing came short and fast. + + "It does not--melt away," she panted. "Oh, I never had such a dream before." She scarcely dared to stir; but at last she pushed the bedclothes aside, and put her feet on the floor with a rapturous smile. + + "I am dreaming--I am getting out of bed," she heard her own voice say; and then, as she stood up in the midst of it all, turning slowly from side to side--"I am dreaming it stays--real! I'm dreaming it FEELS real. It's bewitched--or I'm bewitched. I only THINK I see it all." Her words began to hurry themselves. "If I can only keep on thinking it," she cried, "I don't care! I don't care!" + + She stood panting a moment longer, and then cried out again. + + "Oh, it isn't true!" she said. "It CAN'T be true! But oh, how true it seems!" + + The blazing fire drew her to it, and she knelt down and held out her hands close to it--so close that the heat made her start back. + + "A fire I only dreamed wouldn't be HOT," she cried. + + She sprang up, touched the table, the dishes, the rug; she went to the bed and touched the blankets. She took up the soft wadded dressing-gown, and suddenly clutched it to her breast and held it to her cheek. + + "It's warm. It's soft!" she almost sobbed. "It's real. It must be!" + + She threw it over her shoulders, and put her feet into the slippers. + + "They are real, too. It's all real!" she cried. "I am NOT--I am NOT dreaming!" + + She almost staggered to the books and opened the one which lay upon the top. Something was written on the flyleaf--just a few words, and they were these: + + "To the little girl in the attic. From a friend." + + When she saw that--wasn't it a strange thing for her to do-- she put her face down upon the page and burst into tears. + + "I don't know who it is," she said; "but somebody cares for me a little. I have a friend." + + She took her candle and stole out of her own room and into Becky's, and stood by her bedside. + + "Becky, Becky!" she whispered as loudly as she dared. "Wake up!" + + When Becky wakened, and she sat upright staring aghast, her face still smudged with traces of tears, beside her stood a little figure in a luxurious wadded robe of crimson silk. The face she saw was a shining, wonderful thing. The Princess Sara--as she remembered her--stood at her very bedside, holding a candle in her hand. + + "Come," she said. "Oh, Becky, come!" + + Becky was too frightened to speak. She simply got up and followed her, with her mouth and eyes open, and without a word. + + And when they crossed the threshold, Sara shut the door gently and drew her into the warm, glowing midst of things which made her brain reel and her hungry senses faint. "It's true! It's true!" she cried. "I've touched them all. They are as real as we are. The Magic has come and done it, Becky, while we were asleep--the Magic that won't let those worst things EVER quite happen." + + + + 16 + + The Visitor + + Imagine, if you can, what the rest of the evening was like. How they crouched by the fire which blazed and leaped and made so much of itself in the little grate. How they removed the covers of the dishes, and found rich, hot, savory soup, which was a meal in itself, and sandwiches and toast and muffins enough for both of them. The mug from the washstand was used as Becky's tea cup, and the tea was so delicious that it was not necessary to pretend that it was anything but tea. They were warm and full-fed and happy, and it was just like Sara that, having found her strange good fortune real, she should give herself up to the enjoyment of it to the utmost. She had lived such a life of imaginings that she was quite equal to accepting any wonderful thing that happened, and almost to cease, in a short time, to find it bewildering. + + "I don't know anyone in the world who could have done it," she said; "but there has been someone. And here we are sitting by their fire--and--and--it's true! And whoever it is--wherever they are--I have a friend, Becky--someone is my friend." + + It cannot be denied that as they sat before the blazing fire, and ate the nourishing, comfortable food, they felt a kind of rapturous awe, and looked into each other's eyes with something like doubt. + + "Do you think," Becky faltered once, in a whisper, "do you think it could melt away, miss? Hadn't we better be quick?" And she hastily crammed her sandwich into her mouth. If it was only a dream, kitchen manners would be overlooked. + + "No, it won't melt away," said Sara. "I am EATING this muffin, and I can taste it. You never really eat things in dreams. You only think you are going to eat them. Besides, I keep giving myself pinches; and I touched a hot piece of coal just now, on purpose." + + The sleepy comfort which at length almost overpowered them was a heavenly thing. It was the drowsiness of happy, well-fed childhood, and they sat in the fire glow and luxuriated in it until Sara found herself turning to look at her transformed bed. + + There were even blankets enough to share with Becky. The narrow couch in the next attic was more comfortable that night than its occupant had ever dreamed that it could be. + + As she went out of the room, Becky turned upon the threshold and looked about her with devouring eyes. + + "If it ain't here in the mornin', miss," she said, "it's been here tonight, anyways, an' I shan't never forget it." She looked at each particular thing, as if to commit it to memory. "The fire was THERE", pointing with her finger, "an' the table was before it; an' the lamp was there, an' the light looked rosy red; an' there was a satin cover on your bed, an' a warm rug on the floor, an' everythin' looked beautiful; an'"--she paused a second, and laid her hand on her stomach tenderly--"there WAS soup an' sandwiches an' muffins--there WAS." And, with this conviction a reality at least, she went away. + + Through the mysterious agency which works in schools and among servants, it was quite well known in the morning that Sara Crewe was in horrible disgrace, that Ermengarde was under punishment, and that Becky would have been packed out of the house before breakfast, but that a scullery maid could not be dispensed with at once. The servants knew that she was allowed to stay because Miss Minchin could not easily find another creature helpless and humble enough to work like a bounden slave for so few shillings a week. The elder girls in the schoolroom knew that if Miss Minchin did not send Sara away it was for practical reasons of her own. + + "She's growing so fast and learning such a lot, somehow," said Jessie to Lavinia, "that she will be given classes soon, and Miss Minchin knows she will have to work for nothing. It was rather nasty of you, Lavvy, to tell about her having fun in the garret. How did you find it out?" + + "I got it out of Lottie. She's such a baby she didn't know she was telling me. There was nothing nasty at all in speaking to Miss Minchin. I felt it my duty"--priggishly. "She was being deceitful. And it's ridiculous that she should look so grand, and be made so much of, in her rags and tatters!" + + "What were they doing when Miss Minchin caught them?" + + "Pretending some silly thing. Ermengarde had taken up her hamper to share with Sara and Becky. She never invites us to share things. Not that I care, but it's rather vulgar of her to share with servant girls in attics. I wonder Miss Minchin didn't turn Sara out--even if she does want her for a teacher." + + "If she was turned out where would she go?" inquired Jessie, a trifle anxiously. + + "How do I know?" snapped Lavinia. "She'll look rather queer when she comes into the schoolroom this morning, I should think-- after what's happened. She had no dinner yesterday, and she's not to have any today." + + Jessie was not as ill-natured as she was silly. She picked up her book with a little jerk. + + "Well, I think it's horrid," she said. "They've no right to starve her to death." + + When Sara went into the kitchen that morning the cook looked askance at her, and so did the housemaids; but she passed them hurriedly. She had, in fact, overslept herself a little, and as Becky had done the same, neither had had time to see the other, and each had come downstairs in haste. + + Sara went into the scullery. Becky was violently scrubbing a kettle, and was actually gurgling a little song in her throat. She looked up with a wildly elated face. + + "It was there when I wakened, miss--the blanket," she whispered excitedly. "It was as real as it was last night." + + "So was mine," said Sara. "It is all there now--all of it. While I was dressing I ate some of the cold things we left." + + "Oh, laws! Oh, laws!" Becky uttered the exclamation in a sort of rapturous groan, and ducked her head over her kettle just in time, as the cook came in from the kitchen. + + Miss Minchin had expected to see in Sara, when she appeared in the schoolroom, very much what Lavinia had expected to see. Sara had always been an annoying puzzle to her, because severity never made her cry or look frightened. When she was scolded she stood still and listened politely with a grave face; when she was punished she performed her extra tasks or went without her meals, making no complaint or outward sign of rebellion. The very fact that she never made an impudent answer seemed to Miss Minchin a kind of impudence in itself. But after yesterday's deprivation of meals, the violent scene of last night, the prospect of hunger today, she must surely have broken down. It would be strange indeed if she did not come downstairs with pale cheeks and red eyes and an unhappy, humbled face. + + Miss Minchin saw her for the first time when she entered the schoolroom to hear the little French class recite its lessons and superintend its exercises. And she came in with a springing step, color in her cheeks, and a smile hovering about the corners of her mouth. It was the most astonishing thing Miss Minchin had ever known. It gave her quite a shock. What was the child made of? What could such a thing mean? She called her at once to her desk. + + "You do not look as if you realize that you are in disgrace," she said. "Are you absolutely hardened?" + + The truth is that when one is still a child--or even if one is grown up--and has been well fed, and has slept long and softly and warm; when one has gone to sleep in the midst of a fairy story, and has wakened to find it real, one cannot be unhappy or even look as if one were; and one could not, if one tried, keep a glow of joy out of one's eyes. Miss Minchin was almost struck dumb by the look of Sara's eyes when she made her perfectly respectful answer. + + "I beg your pardon, Miss Minchin," she said; "I know that I am in disgrace." + + "Be good enough not to forget it and look as if you had come into a fortune. It is an impertinence. And remember you are to have no food today." + + "Yes, Miss Minchin," Sara answered; but as she turned away her heart leaped with the memory of what yesterday had been. "If the Magic had not saved me just in time," she thought, "how horrible it would have been!" + + "She can't be very hungry," whispered Lavinia. "Just look at her. Perhaps she is pretending she has had a good breakfast"-- with a spiteful laugh. + + "She's different from other people," said Jessie, watching Sara with her class. "Sometimes I'm a bit frightened of her." + + "Ridiculous thing!" ejaculated Lavinia. + + All through the day the light was in Sara's face, and the color in her cheek. The servants cast puzzled glances at her, and whispered to each other, and Miss Amelia's small blue eyes wore an expression of bewilderment. What such an audacious look of well-being, under august displeasure could mean she could not understand. It was, however, just like Sara's singular obstinate way. She was probably determined to brave the matter out. + + One thing Sara had resolved upon, as she thought things over. The wonders which had happened must be kept a secret, if such a thing were possible. If Miss Minchin should choose to mount to the attic again, of course all would be discovered. But it did not seem likely that she would do so for some time at least, unless she was led by suspicion. Ermengarde and Lottie would be watched with such strictness that they would not dare to steal out of their beds again. Ermengarde could be told the story and trusted to keep it secret. If Lottie made any discoveries, she could be bound to secrecy also. Perhaps the Magic itself would help to hide its own marvels. + + "But whatever happens," Sara kept saying to herself all day-- "WHATEVER happens, somewhere in the world there is a heavenly kind person who is my friend--my friend. If I never know who it is--if I never can even thank him--I shall never feel quite so lonely. Oh, the Magic was GOOD to me!" + + If it was possible for weather to be worse than it had been the day before, it was worse this day--wetter, muddier, colder. There were more errands to be done, the cook was more irritable, and, knowing that Sara was in disgrace, she was more savage. But what does anything matter when one's Magic has just proved itself one's friend. Sara's supper of the night before had given her strength, she knew that she should sleep well and warmly, and, even though she had naturally begun to be hungry again before evening, she felt that she could bear it until breakfast- time on the following day, when her meals would surely be given to her again. It was quite late when she was at last allowed to go upstairs. She had been told to go into the schoolroom and study until ten o'clock, and she had become interested in her work, and remained over her books later. + + When she reached the top flight of stairs and stood before the attic door, it must be confessed that her heart beat rather fast. + + "Of course it MIGHT all have been taken away," she whispered, trying to be brave. "It might only have been lent to me for just that one awful night. But it WAS lent to me--I had it. It was real." + + She pushed the door open and went in. Once inside, she gasped slightly, shut the door, and stood with her back against it looking from side to side. + + The Magic had been there again. It actually had, and it had done even more than before. The fire was blazing, in lovely leaping flames, more merrily than ever. A number of new things had been brought into the attic which so altered the look of it that if she had not been past doubting she would have rubbed her eyes. Upon the low table another supper stood--this time with cups and plates for Becky as well as herself; a piece of bright, heavy, strange embroidery covered the battered mantel, and on it some ornaments had been placed. All the bare, ugly things which could be covered with draperies had been concealed and made to look quite pretty. Some odd materials of rich colors had been fastened against the wall with fine, sharp tacks--so sharp that they could be pressed into the wood and plaster without hammering. Some brilliant fans were pinned up, and there were several large cushions, big and substantial enough to use as seats. A wooden box was covered with a rug, and some cushions lay on it, so that it wore quite the air of a sofa. + + Sara slowly moved away from the door and simply sat down and looked and looked again. + + "It is exactly like something fairy come true," she said. "There isn't the least difference. I feel as if I might wish for anything--diamonds or bags of gold--and they would appear! THAT wouldn't be any stranger than this. Is this my garret? Am I the same cold, ragged, damp Sara? And to think I used to pretend and pretend and wish there were fairies! The one thing I always wanted was to see a fairy story come true. I am LIVING in a fairy story. I feel as if I might be a fairy myself, and able to turn things into anything else." + + She rose and knocked upon the wall for the prisoner in the next cell, and the prisoner came. + + When she entered she almost dropped in a heap upon the floor. For a few seconds she quite lost her breath. + + "Oh, laws!" she gasped. "Oh, laws, miss!" + + "You see," said Sara. + + On this night Becky sat on a cushion upon the hearth rug and had a cup and saucer of her own. + + When Sara went to bed she found that she had a new thick mattress and big downy pillows. Her old mattress and pillow had been removed to Becky's bedstead, and, consequently, with these additions Becky had been supplied with unheard-of comfort. + + "Where does it all come from?" Becky broke forth once. "Laws, who does it, miss?" + + "Don't let us even ASK," said Sara. "If it were not that I want to say, `Oh, thank you,' I would rather not know. It makes it more beautiful." + + From that time life became more wonderful day by day. The fairy story continued. Almost every day something new was done. Some new comfort or ornament appeared each time Sara opened the door at night, until in a short time the attic was a beautiful little room full of all sorts of odd and luxurious things. The ugly walls were gradually entirely covered with pictures and draperies, ingenious pieces of folding furniture appeared, a bookshelf was hung up and filled with books, new comforts and conveniences appeared one by one, until there seemed nothing left to be desired. When Sara went downstairs in the morning, the remains of the supper were on the table; and when she returned to the attic in the evening, the magician had removed them and left another nice little meal. Miss Minchin was as harsh and insulting as ever, Miss Amelia as peevish, and the servants were as vulgar and rude. Sara was sent on errands in all weathers, and scolded and driven hither and thither; she was scarcely allowed to speak to Ermengarde and Lottie; Lavinia sneered at the increasing shabbiness of her clothes; and the other girls stared curiously at her when she appeared in the schoolroom. But what did it all matter while she was living in this wonderful mysterious story? It was more romantic and delightful than anything she had ever invented to comfort her starved young soul and save herself from despair. Sometimes, when she was scolded, she could scarcely keep from smiling. + + "If you only knew!" she was saying to herself. "If you only knew!" + + The comfort and happiness she enjoyed were making her stronger, and she had them always to look forward to. If she came home from her errands wet and tired and hungry, she knew she would soon be warm and well fed after she had climbed the stairs. During the hardest day she could occupy herself blissfully by thinking of what she should see when she opened the attic door, and wondering what new delight had been prepared for her. In a very short time she began to look less thin. Color came into her cheeks, and her eyes did not seem so much too big for her face. + + "Sara Crewe looks wonderfully well," Miss Minchin remarked disapprovingly to her sister. + + "Yes," answered poor, silly Miss Amelia. "She is absolutely fattening. She was beginning to look like a little starved crow." + + "Starved!" exclaimed Miss Minchin, angrily. "There was no reason why she should look starved. She always had plenty to eat!" + + "Of--of course," agreed Miss Amelia, humbly, alarmed to find that she had, as usual, said the wrong thing. + + "There is something very disagreeable in seeing that sort of thing in a child of her age," said Miss Minchin, with haughty vagueness. + + "What--sort of thing?" Miss Amelia ventured. + + "It might almost be called defiance," answered Miss Minchin, feeling annoyed because she knew the thing she resented was nothing like defiance, and she did not know what other unpleasant term to use. "The spirit and will of any other child would have been entirely humbled and broken by--by the changes she has had to submit to. But, upon my word, she seems as little subdued as if--as if she were a princess." + + "Do you remember," put in the unwise Miss Amelia, "what she said to you that day in the schoolroom about what you would do if you found out that she was--" + + "No, I don't," said Miss Minchin. "Don't talk nonsense." But she remembered very clearly indeed. + + Very naturally, even Becky was beginning to look plumper and less frightened. She could not help it. She had her share in the secret fairy story, too. She had two mattresses, two pillows, plenty of bed-covering, and every night a hot supper and a seat on the cushions by the fire. The Bastille had melted away, the prisoners no longer existed. Two comforted children sat in the midst of delights. Sometimes Sara read aloud from her books, sometimes she learned her own lessons, sometimes she sat and looked into the fire and tried to imagine who her friend could be, and wished she could say to him some of the things in her heart. + + Then it came about that another wonderful thing happened. A man came to the door and left several parcels. All were addressed in large letters, "To the Little Girl in the right-hand attic." + + Sara herself was sent to open the door and take them in. She laid the two largest parcels on the hall table, and was looking at the address, when Miss Minchin came down the stairs and saw her. + + "Take the things to the young lady to whom they belong," she said severely. "Don't stand there staring at them. + + "They belong to me," answered Sara, quietly. + + "To you?" exclaimed Miss Minchin. "What do you mean?" + + "I don't know where they come from," said Sara, "but they are addressed to me. I sleep in the right-hand attic. Becky has the other one." + + Miss Minchin came to her side and looked at the parcels with an excited expression. + + "What is in them?" she demanded. + + "I don't know," replied Sara. + + "Open them," she ordered. + + Sara did as she was told. When the packages were unfolded Miss Minchin's countenance wore suddenly a singular expression. What she saw was pretty and comfortable clothing--clothing of different kinds: shoes, stockings, and gloves, and a warm and beautiful coat. There were even a nice hat and an umbrella. They were all good and expensive things, and on the pocket of the coat was pinned a paper, on which were written these words: "To be worn every day. Will be replaced by others when necessary." + + Miss Minchin was quite agitated. This was an incident which suggested strange things to her sordid mind. Could it be that she had made a mistake, after all, and that the neglected child had some powerful though eccentric friend in the background-- perhaps some previously unknown relation, who had suddenly traced her whereabouts, and chose to provide for her in this mysterious and fantastic way? Relations were sometimes very odd-- particularly rich old bachelor uncles, who did not care for having children near them. A man of that sort might prefer to overlook his young relation's welfare at a distance. Such a person, however, would be sure to be crotchety and hot-tempered enough to be easily offended. It would not be very pleasant if there were such a one, and he should learn all the truth about the thin, shabby clothes, the scant food, and the hard work. She felt very queer indeed, and very uncertain, and she gave a side glance at Sara. + + "Well," she said, in a voice such as she had never used since the little girl lost her father, "someone is very kind to you. As the things have been sent, and you are to have new ones when they are worn out, you may as well go and put them on and look respectable. After you are dressed you may come downstairs and learn your lessons in the schoolroom. You need not go out on any more errands today." + + About half an hour afterward, when the schoolroom door opened and Sara walked in, the entire seminary was struck dumb. + + "My word!" ejaculated Jessie, jogging Lavinia's elbow. "Look at the Princess Sara!" + + Everybody was looking, and when Lavinia looked she turned quite red. + + It was the Princess Sara indeed. At least, since the days when she had been a princess, Sara had never looked as she did now. She did not seem the Sara they had seen come down the back stairs a few hours ago. She was dressed in the kind of frock Lavinia had been used to envying her the possession of. It was deep and warm in color, and beautifully made. Her slender feet looked as they had done when Jessie had admired them, and the hair, whose heavy locks had made her look rather like a Shetland pony when it fell loose about her small, odd face, was tied back with a ribbon. + + "Perhaps someone has left her a fortune," Jessie whispered. "I always thought something would happen to her. She's so queer." + + "Perhaps the diamond mines have suddenly appeared again," said Lavinia, scathingly. "Don't please her by staring at her in that way, you silly thing." + + "Sara," broke in Miss Minchin's deep voice, "come and sit here." + + And while the whole schoolroom stared and pushed with elbows, and scarcely made any effort to conceal its excited curiosity, Sara went to her old seat of honor, and bent her head over her books. + + That night, when she went to her room, after she and Becky had eaten their supper she sat and looked at the fire seriously for a long time. + + "Are you making something up in your head, miss?" Becky inquired with respectful softness. When Sara sat in silence and looked into the coals with dreaming eyes it generally meant that she was making a new story. But this time she was not, and she shook her head. + + "No," she answered. "I am wondering what I ought to do." + + Becky stared--still respectfully. She was filled with something approaching reverence for everything Sara did and said. + + "I can't help thinking about my friend," Sara explained. "If he wants to keep himself a secret, it would be rude to try and find out who he is. But I do so want him to know how thankful I am to him--and how happy he has made me. Anyone who is kind wants to know when people have been made happy. They care for that more than for being thanked. I wish--I do wish--" + + She stopped short because her eyes at that instant fell upon something standing on a table in a corner. It was something she had found in the room when she came up to it only two days before. It was a little writing-case fitted with paper and envelopes and pens and ink. + + "Oh," she exclaimed, "why did I not think of that before?" + + She rose and went to the corner and brought the case back to the fire. + + "I can write to him," she said joyfully, "and leave it on the table. Then perhaps the person who takes the things away will take it, too. I won't ask him anything. He won't mind my thanking him, I feel sure." + + So she wrote a note. This is what she said: + + I hope you will not think it is impolite that I should write this note to you when you wish to keep yourself a secret. Please believe I do not mean to be impolite or try to find out anything at all; only I want to thank you for being so kind to me--so heavenly kind--and making everything like a fairy story. I am so grateful to you, and I am so happy--and so is Becky. Becky feels just as thankful as I do--it is all just as beautiful and wonderful to her as it is to me. We used to be so lonely and cold and hungry, and now--oh, just think what you have done for us! Please let me say just these words. It seems as if I OUGHT to say them. THANK you--THANK you--THANK you! + + + + THE LITTLE GIRL IN THE ATTIC. + + The next morning she left this on the little table, and in the evening it had been taken away with the other things; so she knew the Magician had received it, and she was happier for the thought. She was reading one of her new books to Becky just before they went to their respective beds, when her attention was attracted by a sound at the skylight. When she looked up from her page she saw that Becky had heard the sound also, as she had turned her head to look and was listening rather nervously. + + "Something's there, miss," she whispered. + + "Yes," said Sara, slowly. "It sounds--rather like a cat--trying to get in." + + She left her chair and went to the skylight. It was a queer little sound she heard--like a soft scratching. She suddenly remembered something and laughed. She remembered a quaint little intruder who had made his way into the attic once before. She had seen him that very afternoon, sitting disconsolately on a table before a window in the Indian gentleman's house. + + "Suppose," she whispered in pleased excitement--"just suppose it was the monkey who got away again. Oh, I wish it was!" + + She climbed on a chair, very cautiously raised the skylight, and peeped out. It had been snowing all day, and on the snow, quite near her, crouched a tiny, shivering figure, whose small black face wrinkled itself piteously at sight of her. + + "It is the monkey," she cried out. "He has crept out of the Lascar's attic, and he saw the light." + + Becky ran to her side. + + "Are you going to let him in, miss?" she said. + + "Yes," Sara answered joyfully. "It's too cold for monkeys to be out. They're delicate. I'll coax him in." + + She put a hand out delicately, speaking in a coaxing voice--as she spoke to the sparrows and to Melchisedec--as if she were some friendly little animal herself. + + "Come along, monkey darling," she said. "I won't hurt you." + + He knew she would not hurt him. He knew it before she laid her soft, caressing little paw on him and drew him towards her. He had felt human love in the slim brown hands of Ram Dass, and he felt it in hers. He let her lift him through the skylight, and when he found himself in her arms he cuddled up to her breast and looked up into her face. + + "Nice monkey! Nice monkey!" she crooned, kissing his funny head. "Oh, I do love little animal things." + + He was evidently glad to get to the fire, and when she sat down and held him on her knee he looked from her to Becky with mingled interest and appreciation. + + "He IS plain-looking, miss, ain't he?" said Becky. + + "He looks like a very ugly baby," laughed Sara. "I beg your pardon, monkey; but I'm glad you are not a baby. Your mother COULDN'T be proud of you, and no one would dare to say you looked like any of your relations. Oh, I do like you!" + + She leaned back in her chair and reflected. + + "Perhaps he's sorry he's so ugly," she said, "and it's always on his mind. I wonder if he HAS a mind. Monkey, my love, have you a mind?" + + But the monkey only put up a tiny paw and scratched his head. + + "What shall you do with him?" Becky asked. + + "I shall let him sleep with me tonight, and then take him back to the Indian gentleman tomorrow. I am sorry to take you back, monkey; but you must go. You ought to be fondest of your own family; and I'm not a REAL relation." + + And when she went to bed she made him a nest at her feet, and he curled up and slept there as if he were a baby and much pleased with his quarters. + + + + 17 + + "It Is the Child!" + + The next afternoon three members of the Large Family sat in the Indian gentleman's library, doing their best to cheer him up. They had been allowed to come in to perform this office because he had specially invited them. He had been living in a state of suspense for some time, and today he was waiting for a certain event very anxiously. This event was the return of Mr. Carmichael from Moscow. His stay there had been prolonged from week to week. On his first arrival there, he had not been able satisfactorily to trace the family he had gone in search of. When he felt at last sure that he had found them and had gone to their house, he had been told that they were absent on a journey. His efforts to reach them had been unavailing, so he had decided to remain in Moscow until their return. Mr. Carrisford sat in his reclining chair, and Janet sat on the floor beside him. He was very fond of Janet. Nora had found a footstool, and Donald was astride the tiger's head which ornamented the rug made of the animal's skin. It must be owned that he was riding it rather violently. + + "Don't chirrup so loud, Donald," Janet said. "When you come to cheer an ill person up you don't cheer him up at the top of your voice. Perhaps cheering up is too loud, Mr. Carrisford?" turning to the Indian gentleman. + + But he only patted her shoulder. + + "No, it isn't," he answered. "And it keeps me from thinking too much." + + "I'm going to be quiet," Donald shouted. "We'll all be as quiet as mice." + + "Mice don't make a noise like that," said Janet. + + Donald made a bridle of his handkerchief and bounced up and down on the tiger's head. + + "A whole lot of mice might," he said cheerfully. "A thousand mice might." + + "I don't believe fifty thousand mice would," said Janet, severely; "and we have to be as quiet as one mouse." + + Mr. Carrisford laughed and patted her shoulder again. + + "Papa won't be very long now," she said. "May we talk about the lost little girl?" + + "I don't think I could talk much about anything else just now," the Indian gentleman answered, knitting his forehead with a tired look. + + "We like her so much," said Nora. "We call her the little un- fairy princess." + + "Why?" the Indian gentleman inquired, because the fancies of the Large Family always made him forget things a little. + + It was Janet who answered. + + "It is because, though she is not exactly a fairy, she will be so rich when she is found that she will be like a princess in a fairy tale. We called her the fairy princess at first, but it didn't quite suit." + + "Is it true," said Nora, "that her papa gave all his money to a friend to put in a mine that had diamonds in it, and then the friend thought he had lost it all and ran away because he felt as if he was a robber?" + + "But he wasn't really, you know," put in Janet, hastily. + + The Indian gentleman took hold of her hand quickly. + + "No, he wasn't really," he said. + + "I am sorry for the friend," Janet said; "I can't help it. He didn't mean to do it, and it would break his heart. I am sure it would break his heart." + + "You are an understanding little woman, Janet," the Indian gentleman said, and he held her hand close. + + "Did you tell Mr. Carrisford," Donald shouted again, "about the little-girl-who-isn't-a-beggar? Did you tell him she has new nice clothes? P'r'aps she's been found by somebody when she was lost." + + "There's a cab!" exclaimed Janet. "It's stopping before the door. It is papa!" + + They all ran to the windows to look out. + + "Yes, it's papa," Donald proclaimed. "But there is no little girl." + + All three of them incontinently fled from the room and tumbled into the hall. It was in this way they always welcomed their father. They were to be heard jumping up and down, clapping their hands, and being caught up and kissed. + + Mr. Carrisford made an effort to rise and sank back again. + + "It is no use," he said. "What a wreck I am!" + + Mr. Carmichael's voice approached the door. + + "No, children," he was saying; "you may come in after I have talked to Mr. Carrisford. Go and play with Ram Dass." + + Then the door opened and he came in. He looked rosier than ever, and brought an atmosphere of freshness and health with him; but his eyes were disappointed and anxious as they met the invalid's look of eager question even as they grasped each other's hands. + + "What news?" Mr. Carrisford asked. "The child the Russian people adopted?" + + "She is not the child we are looking for," was Mr. Carmichael's answer. "She is much younger than Captain Crewe's little girl. Her name is Emily Carew. I have seen and talked to her. The Russians were able to give me every detail." + + How wearied and miserable the Indian gentleman looked! His hand dropped from Mr. Carmichael's. + + "Then the search has to be begun over again," he said. "That is all. Please sit down." + + Mr. Carmichael took a seat. Somehow, he had gradually grown fond of this unhappy man. He was himself so well and happy, and so surrounded by cheerfulness and love, that desolation and broken health seemed pitifully unbearable things. If there had been the sound of just one gay little high-pitched voice in the house, it would have been so much less forlorn. And that a man should be compelled to carry about in his breast the thought that he had seemed to wrong and desert a child was not a thing one could face. + + "Come, come," he said in his cheery voice; "we'll find her yet." + + "We must begin at once. No time must be lost," Mr. Carrisford fretted. "Have you any new suggestion to make--any whatsoever?" + + Mr. Carmichael felt rather restless, and he rose and began to pace the room with a thoughtful, though uncertain face. + + "Well, perhaps," he said. "I don't know what it may be worth. The fact is, an idea occurred to me as I was thinking the thing over in the train on the journey from Dover." + + "What was it? If she is alive, she is somewhere." + + "Yes; she is SOMEWHERE. We have searched the schools in Paris. Let us give up Paris and begin in London. That was my idea--to search London." + + "There are schools enough in London," said Mr. Carrisford. Then he slightly started, roused by a recollection. "By the way, there is one next door." + + "Then we will begin there. We cannot begin nearer than next door." + + "No," said Carrisford. "There is a child there who interests me; but she is not a pupil. And she is a little dark, forlorn creature, as unlike poor Crewe as a child could be." + + Perhaps the Magic was at work again at that very moment--the beautiful Magic. It really seemed as if it might be so. What was it that brought Ram Dass into the room--even as his master spoke--salaaming respectfully, but with a scarcely concealed touch of excitement in his dark, flashing eyes? + + "Sahib," he said, "the child herself has come--the child the sahib felt pity for. She brings back the monkey who had again run away to her attic under the roof. I have asked that she remain. It was my thought that it would please the sahib to see and speak with her." + + "Who is she?" inquired Mr. Carmichael. + + "God knows," Mr. Carrrisford answered. "She is the child I spoke of. A little drudge at the school." He waved his hand to Ram Dass, and addressed him. "Yes, I should like to see her. Go and bring her in." Then he turned to Mr. Carmichael. "While you have been away," he explained, "I have been desperate. The days were so dark and long. Ram Dass told me of this child's miseries, and together we invented a romantic plan to help her. I suppose it was a childish thing to do; but it gave me something to plan and think of. Without the help of an agile, soft-footed Oriental like Ram Dass, however, it could not have been done." + + Then Sara came into the room. She carried the monkey in her arms, and he evidently did not intend to part from her, if it could be helped. He was clinging to her and chattering, and the interesting excitement of finding herself in the Indian gentleman's room had brought a flush to Sara's cheeks. + + "Your monkey ran away again," she said, in her pretty voice. "He came to my garret window last night, and I took him in because it was so cold. I would have brought him back if it had not been so late. I knew you were ill and might not like to be disturbed." + + The Indian gentleman's hollow eyes dwelt on her with curious interest. + + "That was very thoughtful of you," he said. + + Sara looked toward Ram Dass, who stood near the door. + + "Shall I give him to the Lascar?" she asked. + + "How do you know he is a Lascar?" said the Indian gentleman, smiling a little. + + "Oh, I know Lascars," Sara said, handing over the reluctant monkey. "I was born in India." + + The Indian gentleman sat upright so suddenly, and with such a change of expression, that she was for a moment quite startled. + + "You were born in India," he exclaimed, "were you? Come here." And he held out his hand. + + Sara went to him and laid her hand in his, as he seemed to want to take it. She stood still, and her green-gray eyes met his wonderingly. Something seemed to be the matter with him. + + "You live next door?" he demanded. + + "Yes; I live at Miss Minchin's seminary." + + "But you are not one of her pupils?" + + A strange little smile hovered about Sara's mouth. She hesitated a moment. + + "I don't think I know exactly WHAT I am," she replied. + + "Why not?" + + "At first I was a pupil, and a parlor boarder; but now--" + + "You were a pupil! What are you now?" + + The queer little sad smile was on Sara's lips again. + + "I sleep in the attic, next to the scullery maid," she said. "I run errands for the cook--I do anything she tells me; and I teach the little ones their lessons." + + "Question her, Carmichael," said Mr. Carrisford, sinking back as if he had lost his strength. "Question her; I cannot." + + The big, kind father of the Large Family knew how to question little girls. Sara realized how much practice he had had when he spoke to her in his nice, encouraging voice. + + "What do you mean by `At first,' my child?" he inquired. + + "When I was first taken there by my papa." + + "Where is your papa?" + + "He died," said Sara, very quietly. "He lost all his money and there was none left for me. There was no one to take care of me or to pay Miss Minchin." + + "Carmichael!" the Indian gentleman cried out loudly. "Carmichael!" + + "We must not frighten her," Mr. Carmichael said aside to him in a quick, low voice. And he added aloud to Sara, "So you were sent up into the attic, and made into a little drudge. That was about it, wasn't it?" + + "There was no one to take care of me," said Sara. "There was no money; I belong to nobody." + + "How did your father lose his money?" the Indian gentleman broke in breathlessly. + + "He did not lose it himself," Sara answered, wondering still more each moment. "He had a friend he was very fond of--he was very fond of him. It was his friend who took his money. He trusted his friend too much." + + The Indian gentleman's breath came more quickly. + + "The friend might have MEANT to do no harm," he said. "It might have happened through a mistake." + + Sara did not know how unrelenting her quiet young voice sounded as she answered. If she had known, she would surely have tried to soften it for the Indian gentleman's sake. + + "The suffering was just as bad for my papa," she said. It killed him." + + "What was your father's name?" the Indian gentleman said. "Tell me." + + "His name was Ralph Crewe," Sara answered, feeling startled. "Captain Crewe. He died in India." + + The haggard face contracted, and Ram Dass sprang to his master's side. + + "Carmichael," the invalid gasped, "it is the child--the child!" + + For a moment Sara thought he was going to die. Ram Dass poured out drops from a bottle, and held them to his lips. Sara stood near, trembling a little. She looked in a bewildered way at Mr. Carmichael. + + "What child am I?" she faltered. + + "He was your father's friend," Mr. Carmichael answered her. "Don't be frightened. We have been looking for you for two years." + + Sara put her hand up to her forehead, and her mouth trembled. She spoke as if she were in a dream. + + "And I was at Miss Minchin's all the while," she half whispered. "Just on the other side of the wall." + + + + 18 + + "I Tried Not to Be" + + It was pretty, comfortable Mrs. Carmichael who explained everything. She was sent for at once, and came across the square to take Sara into her warm arms and make clear to her all that had happened. The excitement of the totally unexpected discovery had been temporarily almost overpowering to Mr. Carrisford in his weak condition. + + "Upon my word," he said faintly to Mr. Carmichael, when it was suggested that the little girl should go into another room. "I feel as if I do not want to lose sight of her." + + "I will take care of her," Janet said, "and mamma will come in a few minutes." And it was Janet who led her away. + + "We're so glad you are found," she said. "You don't know how glad we are that you are found." + + Donald stood with his hands in his pockets, and gazed at Sara with reflecting and self-reproachful eyes. + + "If I'd just asked what your name was when I gave you my sixpence," he said, "you would have told me it was Sara Crewe, and then you would have been found in a minute." Then Mrs. Carmichael came in. She looked very much moved, and suddenly took Sara in her arms and kissed her. + + "You look bewildered, poor child," she said. "And it is not to be wondered at." + + Sara could only think of one thing. + + "Was he," she said, with a glance toward the closed door of the library--"was HE the wicked friend? Oh, do tell me!" + + Mrs. Carmichael was crying as she kissed her again. She felt as if she ought to be kissed very often because she had not been kissed for so long. + + "He was not wicked, my dear," she answered. "He did not really lose your papa's money. He only thought he had lost it; and because he loved him so much his grief made him so ill that for a time he was not in his right mind. He almost died of brain fever, and long before he began to recover your poor papa was dead." + + "And he did not know where to find me," murmured Sara. "And I was so near." Somehow, she could not forget that she had been so near. + + "He believed you were in school in France," Mrs. Carmichael explained. "And he was continually misled by false clues. He has looked for you everywhere. When he saw you pass by, looking so sad and neglected, he did not dream that you were his friend's poor child; but because you were a little girl, too, he was sorry for you, and wanted to make you happier. And he told Ram Dass to climb into your attic window and try to make you comfortable." + + Sara gave a start of joy; her whole look changed. + + "Did Ram Dass bring the things?" she cried out. "Did he tell Ram Dass to do it? Did he make the dream that came true?" + + "Yes, my dear--yes! He is kind and good, and he was sorry for you, for little lost Sara Crewe's sake." + + The library door opened and Mr. Carmichael appeared, calling Sara to him with a gesture. + + "Mr. Carrisford is better already," he said. "He wants you to come to him." + + Sara did not wait. When the Indian gentleman looked at her as she entered, he saw that her face was all alight. + + She went and stood before his chair, with her hands clasped together against her breast. + + "You sent the things to me," she said, in a joyful emotional little voice, "the beautiful, beautiful things? YOU sent them!" + + "Yes, poor, dear child, I did," he answered her. He was weak and broken with long illness and trouble, but he looked at her with the look she remembered in her father's eyes--that look of loving her and wanting to take her in his arms. It made her kneel down by him, just as she used to kneel by her father when they were the dearest friends and lovers in the world. + + "Then it is you who are my friend," she said; "it is you who are my friend!" And she dropped her face on his thin hand and kissed it again and again. + + "The man will be himself again in three weeks," Mr. Carmichael said aside to his wife. "Look at his face already." + + In fact, he did look changed. Here was the "Little Missus," and he had new things to think of and plan for already. In the first place, there was Miss Minchin. She must be interviewed and told of the change which had taken place in the fortunes of her pupil. + + Sara was not to return to the seminary at all. The Indian gentleman was very determined upon that point. She must remain where she was, and Mr. Carmichael should go and see Miss Minchin himself. + + "I am glad I need not go back," said Sara. "She will be very angry. She does not like me; though perhaps it is my fault, because I do not like her." + + But, oddly enough, Miss Minchin made it unnecessary for Mr. Carmichael to go to her, by actually coming in search of her pupil herself. She had wanted Sara for something, and on inquiry had heard an astonishing thing. One of the housemaids had seen her steal out of the area with something hidden under her cloak, and had also seen her go up the steps of the next door and enter the house. + + "What does she mean!" cried Miss Minchin to Miss Amelia. + + "I don't know, I'm sure, sister," answered Miss Amelia. "Unless she has made friends with him because he has lived in India." + + "It would be just like her to thrust herself upon him and try to gain his sympathies in some such impertinent fashion," said Miss Minchin. "She must have been in the house for two hours. I will not allow such presumption. I shall go and inquire into the matter, and apologize for her intrusion." + + Sara was sitting on a footstool close to Mr. Carrisford's knee, and listening to some of the many things he felt it necessary to try to explain to her, when Ram Dass announced the visitor's arrival. + + Sara rose involuntarily, and became rather pale; but Mr. Carrisford saw that she stood quietly, and showed none of the ordinary signs of child terror. + + Miss Minchin entered the room with a sternly dignified manner. She was correctly and well dressed, and rigidly polite. + + "I am sorry to disturb Mr. Carrisford," she said; "but I have explanations to make. I am Miss Minchin, the proprietress of the Young Ladies' Seminary next door." + + The Indian gentleman looked at her for a moment in silent scrutiny. He was a man who had naturally a rather hot temper, and he did not wish it to get too much the better of him. + + "So you are Miss Minchin?" he said. + + "I am, sir." + + "In that case," the Indian gentleman replied, "you have arrived at the right time. My solicitor, Mr. Carmichael, was just on the point of going to see you." + + Mr. Carmichael bowed slightly, and Miiss Minchin looked from him to Mr. Carrisford in amazement. + + "Your solicitor!" she said. "I do not understand. I have come here as a matter of duty. I have just discovered that you have been intruded upon through the forwardness of one of my pupils--a charity pupil. I came to explain that she intruded without my knowledge." She turned upon Sara. "Go home at once," she commanded indignantly. "You shall be severely punished. Go home at once." + + The Indian gentleman drew Sara to his side and patted her hand. + + "She is not going." + + Miss Minchin felt rather as if she must be losing her senses. + + "Not going!" she repeated. + + "No," said Mr. Carrisford. "She is not going home--if you give your house that name. Her home for the future will be with me." + + Miss Minchin fell back in amazed indignation. + + "With YOU! With YOU sir! What does this mean?" + + "Kindly explain the matter, Carmichael," said the Indian gentleman; "and get it over as quickly as possible." And he made Sara sit down again, and held her hands in his--which was another trick of her papa's. + + Then Mr. Carmichael explained--in the quiet, level-toned, steady manner of a man who knew his subject, and all its legal significance, which was a thing Miss Minchin understood as a business woman, and did not enjoy. + + "Mr. Carrisford, madam," he said, "was an intimate friend of the late Captain Crewe. He was his partner in certain large investments. The fortune which Captain Crewe supposed he had lost has been recovered, and is now in Mr. Carrisford's hands." + + "The fortune!" cried Miss Minchin; and she really lost color as she uttered the exclamation. "Sara's fortune!" + + "It WILL be Sara's fortune," replied Mr. Carmichael, rather coldly. "It is Sara's fortune now, in fact. Certain events have increased it enormously. The diamond mines have retrieved themselves." + + "The diamond mines!" Miss Minchin gasped out. If this was true, nothing so horrible, she felt, had ever happened to her since she was born. + + "The diamond mines," Mr. Carmichael repeated, and he could not help adding, with a rather sly, unlawyer-like smile, "There are not many princesses, Miss Minchin, who are richer than your little charity pupil, Sara Crewe, will be. Mr. Carrisford has been searching for her for nearly two years; he has found her at last, and he will keep her." + + After which he asked Miss Minchin to sit down while he explained matters to her fully, and went into such detail as was necessary to make it quite clear to her that Sara's future was an assured one, and that what had seemed to be lost was to be restored to her tenfold; also, that she had in Mr. Carrisford a guardian as well as a friend. + + Miss Minchin was not a clever woman, and in her excitement she was silly enough to make one desperate effort to regain what she could not help seeing she had lost through her worldly folly. + + "He found her under my care," she protested. "I have done everything for her. But for me she should have starved in the streets." + + Here the Indian gentleman lost his temper. + + "As to starving in the streets," he said, "she might have starved more comfortably there than in your attic." + + "Captain Crewe left her in my charge," Miss Minchin argued. "She must return to it until she is of age. She can be a parlor boarder again. She must finish her education. The law will interfere in my behalf" + + "Come, come, Miss Minchin," Mr. Carmichael interposed, "the law will do nothing of the sort. If Sara herself wishes to return to you, I dare say Mr. Carrisford might not refuse to allow it. But that rests with Sara." + + "Then," said Miss Minchin, "I appeal to Sara. I have not spoiled you, perhaps," she said awkwardly to the little girl; "but you know that your papa was pleased with your progress. And--ahem--I have always been fond of you." + + Sara's green-gray eyes fixed themselves on her with the quiet, clear look Miss Minchin particularly disliked. + + "Have YOU, Miss Minchin?" she said. "I did not know that." + + Miss Minchin reddened and drew herself up. + + "You ought to have known it," said she; "but children, unfortunately, never know what is best for them. Amelia and I always said you were the cleverest child in the school. Will you not do your duty to your poor papa and come home with me?" + + Sara took a step toward her and stood still. She was thinking of the day when she had been told that she belonged to nobody, and was in danger of being turned into the street; she was thinking of the cold, hungry hours she had spent alone with Emily and Melchisedec in the attic. She looked Miss Minchin steadily in the face. + + "You know why I will not go home with you, Miss Minchin," she said; "you know quite well." + + A hot flush showed itself on Miss Minchin's hard, angry face. + + "You will never see your companions again," she began. "I will see that Ermengarde and Lottie are kept away--" + + Mr. Carmichael stopped her with polite firmness. + + "Excuse me," he said; "she will see anyone she wishes to see. The parents of Miss Crewe's fellow-pupils are not likely to refuse her invitations to visit her at her guardian's house. Mr. Carrisford will attend to that." + + It must be confessed that even Miss Minchin flinched. This was worse than the eccentric bachelor uncle who might have a peppery temper and be easily offended at the treatment of his niece. A woman of sordid mind could easily believe that most people would not refuse to allow their children to remain friends with a little heiress of diamond mines. And if Mr. Carrisford chose to tell certain of her patrons how unhappy Sara Crewe had been made, many unpleasant things might happen. + + "You have not undertaken an easy charge," she said to the Indian gentleman, as she turned to leave the room; "you will discover that very soon. The child is neither truthful nor grateful. I suppose"--to Sara--"that you feel now that you are a princess again." + + Sara looked down and flushed a little, because she thought her pet fancy might not be easy for strangers--even nice ones--to understand at first. + + "I--TRIED not to be anything else," she answered in a low voice-- "even when I was coldest and hungriest--I tried not to be." + + "Now it will not be necessary to try," said Miss Minchin, acidly, as Ram Dass salaamed her out of the room. + + She returned home and, going to her sitting room, sent at once for Miss Amelia. She sat closeted with her all the rest of the afternoon, and it must be admitted that poor Miss Amelia passed through more than one bad quarter of an hour. She shed a good many tears, and mopped her eyes a good deal. One of her unfortunate remarks almost caused her sister to snap her head entirely off, but it resulted in an unusual manner. + + "I'm not as clever as you, sister," she said, "and I am always afraid to say things to you for fear of making you angry. Perhaps if I were not so timid it would be better for the school and for both of us. I must say I've often thought it would have been better if you had been less severe on Sara Crewe, and had seen that she was decently dressed and more comfortable. I KNOW she was worked too hard for a child of her age, and I know she was only half fed--" + + "How dare you say such a thing!" exclaimed Miss Minchin. + + "I don't know how I dare," Miss Amelia answered, with a kind of reckless courage; "but now I've begun I may as well finish, whatever happens to me. The child was a clever child and a good child--and she would have paid you for any kindness you had shown her. But you didn't show her any. The fact was, she was too clever for you, and you always disliked her for that reason. She used to see through us both--" + + "Amelia!" gasped her infuriated elder, looking as if she would box her ears and knock her cap off, as she had often done to Becky. + + But Miss Amelia's disappointment had made her hysterical enough not to care what occurred next. + + "She did! She did!" she cried. "She saw through us both. She saw that you were a hard-hearted, worldly woman, and that I was a weak fool, and that we were both of us vulgar and mean enough to grovel on our knees for her money, and behave ill to her because it was taken from her--though she behaved herself like a little princess even when she was a beggar. She did--she did--like a little princess!" And her hysterics got the better of the poor woman, and she began to laugh and cry both at once, and rock herself backward and forward. + + "And now you've lost her," she cried wildly; "and some other school will get her and her money; and if she were like any other child she'd tell how she's been treated, and all our pupils would be taken away and we should be ruined. And it serves us right; but it serves you right more than it does me, for you are a hard woman, Maria Minchin, you're a hard, selfish, worldly woman!" + + And she was in danger of making so much noise with her hysterical chokes and gurgles that her sister was obliged to go to her and apply salts and sal volatile to quiet her, instead of pouring forth her indignation at her audacity. + + And from that time forward, it may be mentioned, the elder Miss Minchin actually began to stand a little in awe of a sister who, while she looked so foolish, was evidently not quite so foolish as she looked, and might, consequently, break out and speak truths people did not want to hear. + + That evening, when the pupils were gathered together before the fire in the schoolroom, as was their custom before going to bed, Ermengarde came in with a letter in her hand and a queer expression on her round face. It was queer because, while it was an expression of delighted excitement, it was combined with such amazement as seemed to belong to a kind of shock just received. + + "What IS the matter?" cried two or three voices at once. + + "Is it anything to do with the row that has been going on?" said Lavinia, eagerly. "There has been such a row in Miss Minchin's room, Miss Amelia has had something like hysterics and has had to go to bed." + + Ermengarde answered them slowly as if she were half stunned. + + "I have just had this letter from Sara," she said, holding it out to let them see what a long letter it was. + + "From Sara!" Every voice joined in that exclamation. + + "Where is she?" almost shrieked Jessie. + + "Next door," said Ermengarde, "with the Indian gentleman." + + "Where? Where? Has she been sent away? Does Miss Minchin know? Was the row about that? Why did she write? Tell us! Tell us!" + + There was a perfect babel, and Lottie began to cry plaintively. + + Ermengarde answered them slowly as if she were half plunged out into what, at the moment, seemed the most important and self- explaining thing. + + "There WERE diamond mines," she said stoutly; "there WERE!" Open mouths and open eyes confronted her. + + "They were real," she hurried on. "It was all a mistake about them. Something happened for a time, and Mr. Carrisford thought they were ruined--" + + "Who is Mr. Carrisford?" shouted Jessie. + + "The Indian gentleman. And Captain Crewe thought so, too--and he died; and Mr. Carrisford had brain fever and ran away, and HE almost died. And he did not know where Sara was. And it turned out that there were millions and millions of diamonds in the mines; and half of them belong to Sara; and they belonged to her when she was living in the attic with no one but Melchisedec for a friend, and the cook ordering her about. And Mr. Carrisford found her this afternoon, and he has got her in his home--and she will never come back--and she will be more a princess than she ever was--a hundred and fifty thousand times more. And I am going to see her tomorrow afternoon. There!" + + Even Miss Minchin herself could scarcely have controlled the uproar after this; and though she heard the noise, she did not try. She was not in the mood to face anything more than she was facing in her room, while Miss Amelia was weeping in bed. She knew that the news had penetrated the walls in some mysterious manner, and that every servant and every child would go to bed talking about it. + + So until almost midnight the entire seminary, realizing somehow that all rules were laid aside, crowded round Ermengarde in the schoolroom and heard read and re-read the letter containing a story which was quite as wonderful as any Sara herself had ever invented, and which had the amazing charm of having happened to Sara herself and the mystic Indian gentleman in the very next house. + + Becky, who had heard it also, managed to creep up stairs earlier than usual. She wanted to get away from people and go and look at the little magic room once more. She did not know what would happen to it. It was not likely that it would be left to Miss Minchin. It would be taken away, and the attic would be bare and empty again. Glad as she was for Sara's sake, she went up the last flight of stairs with a lump in her throat and tears blurring her sight. There would be no fire tonight, and no rosy lamp; no supper, and no princess sitting in the glow reading or telling stories--no princess! + + She choked down a sob as she pushed the attic door open, and then she broke into a low cry. + + The lamp was flushing the room, the fire was blazing, the supper was waiting; and Ram Dass was standing smiling into her startled face. + + "Missee sahib remembered," he said. "She told the sahib all. She wished you to know the good fortune which has befallen her. Behold a letter on the tray. She has written. She did not wish that you should go to sleep unhappy. The sahib commands you to come to him tomorrow. You are to be the attendant of missee sahib. Tonight I take these things back over the roof." + + And having said this with a beaming face, he made a little salaam and slipped through the skylight with an agile silentness of movement which showed Becky how easily he had done it before. + + + + 19 + + Anne + + Never had such joy reigned in the nursery of the Large Family. Never had they dreamed of such delights as resulted from an intimate acquaintance with the little-girl-who-was-not-a-beggar. The mere fact of her sufferings and adventures made her a priceless possession. Everybody wanted to be told over and over again the things which had happened to her. When one was sitting by a warm fire in a big, glowing room, it was quite delightful to hear how cold it could be in an attic. It must be admitted that the attic was rather delighted in, and that its coldness and bareness quite sank into insignificance when Melchisedec was remembered, and one heard about the sparrows and things one could see if one climbed on the table and stuck one's head and shoulders out of the skylight. + + Of course the thing loved best was the story of the banquet and the dream which was true. Sara told it for the first time the day after she had been found. Several members of the Large Family came to take tea with her, and as they sat or curled up on the hearth-rug she told the story in her own way, and the Indian gentleman listened and watched her. When she had finished she looked up at him and put her hand on his knee. + + "That is my part," she said. "Now won't you tell your part of it, Uncle Tom?" He had asked her to call him always "Uncle Tom." "I don't know your part yet, and it must be beautiful." + + So he told them how, when he sat alone, ill and dull and irritable, Ram Dass had tried to distract him by describing the passers by, and there was one child who passed oftener than any one else; he had begun to be interested in her--partly perhaps because he was thinking a great deal of a little girl, and partly because Ram Dass had been able to relate the incident of his visit to the attic in chase of the monkey. He had described its cheerless look, and the bearing of the child, who seemed as if she was not of the class of those who were treated as drudges and servants. Bit by bit, Ram Dass had made discoveries concerning the wretchedness of her life. He had found out how easy a matter it was to climb across the few yards of roof to the skylight, and this fact had been the beginning of all that followed. + + "Sahib," he had said one day, "I could cross the slates and make the child a fire when she is out on some errand. When she returned, wet and cold, to find it blazing, she would think a magician had done it." + + The idea had been so fanciful that Mr. Carrisford's sad face had lighted with a smile, and Ram Dass had been so filled with rapture that he had enlarged upon it and explained to his master how simple it would be to accomplish numbers of other things. He had shown a childlike pleasure and invention, and the preparations for the carrying out of the plan had filled many a day with interest which would otherwise have dragged wearily. On the night of the frustrated banquet Ram Dass had kept watch, all his packages being in readiness in the attic which was his own; and the person who was to help him had waited with him, as interested as himself in the odd adventure. Ram Dass had been lying flat upon the slates, looking in at the skylight, when the banquet had come to its disastrous conclusion; he had been sure of the profoundness of Sara's wearied sleep; and then, with a dark lantern, he had crept into the room, while his companion remained outside and handed the things to him. When Sara had stirred ever so faintly, Ram Dass had closed the lantern-slide and lain flat upon the floor. These and many other exciting things the children found out by asking a thousand questions. + + "I am so glad," Sara said. "I am so GLAD it was you who were my friend!" + + There never were such friends as these two became. Somehow, they seemed to suit each other in a wonderful way. The Indian gentleman had never had a companion he liked quite as much as he liked Sara. In a month's time he was, as Mr. Carmichael had prophesied he would be, a new man. He was always amused and interested, and he began to find an actual pleasure in the possession of the wealth he had imagined that he loathed the burden of. There were so many charming things to plan for Sara. There was a little joke between them that he was a magician, and it was one of his pleasures to invent things to surprise her. She found beautiful new flowers growing in her room, whimsical little gifts tucked under pillows, and once, as they sat together in the evening, they heard the scratch of a heavy paw on the door, and when Sara went to find out what it was, there stood a great dog--a splendid Russian boarhound--with a grand silver and gold collar bearing an inscription. "I am Boris," it read; "I serve the Princess Sara." + + There was nothing the Indian gentleman loved more than the recollection of the little princess in rags and tatters. The afternoons in which the Large Family, or Ermengarde and Lottie, gathered to rejoice together were very delightful. But the hours when Sara and the Indian gentleman sat alone and read or talked had a special charm of their own. During their passing many interesting things occurred. + + One evening, Mr. Carrisford, looking up from his book, noticed that his companion had not stirred for some time, but sat gazing into the fire. + + "What are you `supposing,' Sara?" he asked. + + Sara looked up, with a bright color on her cheek. + + "I WAS supposing," she said; "I was remembering that hungry day, and a child I saw." + + "But there were a great many hungry days," said the Indian gentleman, with rather a sad tone in his voice. "Which hungry day was it?" + + "I forgot you didn't know," said Sara. "It was the day the dream came true." + + Then she told him the story of the bun shop, and the fourpence she picked up out of the sloppy mud, and the child who was hungrier than herself. She told it quite simply, and in as few words as possible; but somehow the Indian gentleman found it necessary to shade his eyes with his hand and look down at the carpet. + + "And I was supposing a kind of plan," she said, when she had finished. "I was thinking I should like to do something." + + "What was it?" said Mr. Carrisford, in a low tone. "You may do anything you like to do, princess." + + "I was wondering," rather hesitated Sara--"you know, you say I have so much money--I was wondering if I could go to see the bun- woman, and tell her that if, when hungry children--particularly on those dreadful days--come and sit on the steps, or look in at the window, she would just call them in and give them something to eat, she might send the bills to me. Could I do that?" + + "You shall do it tomorrow morning," said the Indian gentleman. + + "Thank you," said Sara. "You see, I know what it is to be hungry, and it is very hard when one cannot even PRETEND it away." + + "Yes, yes, my dear," said the Indian gentleman. "Yes, yes, it must be. Try to forget it. Come and sit on this footstool near my knee, and only remember you are a princess." + + "Yes," said Sara, smiling; "and I can give buns and bread to the populace." And she went and sat on the stool, and the Indian gentleman (he used to like her to call him that, too, sometimes) drew her small dark head down on his knee and stroked her hair. + + The next morning, Miss Minchin, in looking out of her window, saw the things she perhaps least enjoyed seeing. The Indian gentleman's carriage, with its tall horses, drew up before the door of the next house, and its owner and a little figure, warm with soft, rich furs, descended the steps to get into it. The little figure was a familiar one, and reminded Miss Minchin of days in the past. It was followed by another as familiar--the sight of which she found very irritating. It was Becky, who, in the character of delighted attendant, always accompanied her young mistress to her carriage, carrying wraps and belongings. Already Becky had a pink, round face. + + A little later the carriage drew up before the door of the baker's shop, and its occupants got out, oddly enough, just as the bun-woman was putting a tray of smoking-hot buns into the window. + + When Sara entered the shop the woman turned and looked at her, and, leaving the buns, came and stood behind the counter. For a moment she looked at Sara very hard indeed, and then her good- natured face lighted up. + + "I'm sure that I remember you, miss," she said. "And yet--" + + "Yes," said Sara; "once you gave me six buns for fourpence, and-- " + + "And you gave five of 'em to a beggar child," the woman broke in on her. "I've always remembered it. I couldn't make it out at first." She turned round to the Indian gentleman and spoke her next words to him. "I beg your pardon, sir, but there's not many young people that notices a hungry face in that way; and I've thought of it many a time. Excuse the liberty, miss,"--to Sara-- "but you look rosier and--well, better than you did that--that--" + + "I am better, thank you," said Sara. "And--I am much happier-- and I have come to ask you to do something for me." + + "Me, miss!" exclaimed the bun-woman, smiling cheerfully. "Why, bless you! Yes, miss. What can I do?" + + And then Sara, leaning on the counter, made her little proposal concerning the dreadful days and the hungry waifs and the buns. + + The woman watched her, and listened with an astonished face. + + "Why, bless me!" she said again when she had heard it all; "it'll be a pleasure to me to do it. I am a working-woman myself and cannot afford to do much on my own account, and there's sights of trouble on every side; but, if you'll excuse me, I'm bound to say I've given away many a bit of bread since that wet afternoon, just along o' thinking of you--an' how wet an' cold you was, an' how hungry you looked; an' yet you gave away your hot buns as if you was a princess." + + The Indian gentleman smiled involuntarily at this, and Sara smiled a little, too, remembering what she had said to herself when she put the buns down on the ravenous child's ragged lap. + + "She looked so hungry," she said. "She was even hungrier than I was." + + "She was starving," said the woman. "Many's the time she's told me of it since--how she sat there in the wet, and felt as if a wolf was a-tearing at her poor young insides." + + "Oh, have you seen her since then?" exclaimed Sara. "Do you know where she is?" + + "Yes, I do," answered the woman, smiling more good-naturedly than ever. "Why, she's in that there back room, miss, an' has been for a month; an' a decent, well-meanin' girl she's goin' to turn out, an' such a help to me in the shop an' in the kitchen as you'd scarce believe, knowin' how she's lived." + + She stepped to the door of the little back parlor and spoke; and the next minute a girl came out and followed her behind the counter. And actually it was the beggar-child, clean and neatly clothed, and looking as if she had not been hungry for a long time. She looked shy, but she had a nice face, now that she was no longer a savage, and the wild look had gone from her eyes. She knew Sara in an instant, and stood and looked at her as if she could never look enough. + + "You see," said the woman, "I told her to come when she was hungry, and when she'd come I'd give her odd jobs to do; an' I found she was willing, and somehow I got to like her; and the end of it was, I've given her a place an' a home, and she helps me, an' behaves well, an' is as thankful as a girl can be. Her name's Anne. She has no other." + + The children stood and looked at each other for a few minutes; and then Sara took her hand out of her muff and held it out across the counter, and Anne took it, and they looked straight into each other's eyes. + + "I am so glad," Sara said. "And I have just thought of something. Perhaps Mrs. Brown will let you be the one to give the buns and bread to the children. Perhaps you would like to do it because you know what it is to be hungry, too." + + "Yes, miss," said the girl. + + And, somehow, Sara felt as if she understood her, though she said so little, and only stood still and looked and looked after her as she went out of the shop with the Indian gentleman, and they got into the carriage and drove away. + + + + End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett + + + + Little Princess, A + + + + from http://manybooks.net/ \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/carroll.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/carroll.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ec7913 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/carroll.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3736 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland + +Author: Lewis Carroll + +Posting Date: June 25, 2008 [EBook #11] +Release Date: March, 1994 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND *** + + + + + + + + + + +ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND + +Lewis Carroll + +THE MILLENNIUM FULCRUM EDITION 3.0 + + + + +CHAPTER I. Down the Rabbit-Hole + +Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the +bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the +book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in +it, 'and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice 'without pictures or +conversation?' + +So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the +hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure +of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and +picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran +close by her. + +There was nothing so VERY remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so +VERY much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, 'Oh dear! +Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when she thought it over afterwards, it +occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time +it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually TOOK A WATCH +OUT OF ITS WAISTCOAT-POCKET, and looked at it, and then hurried on, +Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had +never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch +to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field +after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large +rabbit-hole under the hedge. + +In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how +in the world she was to get out again. + +The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then +dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think +about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep +well. + +Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had +plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was +going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what +she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she +looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with +cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures +hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as +she passed; it was labelled 'ORANGE MARMALADE', but to her great +disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear +of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as +she fell past it. + +'Well!' thought Alice to herself, 'after such a fall as this, I shall +think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they'll all think me at +home! Why, I wouldn't say anything about it, even if I fell off the top +of the house!' (Which was very likely true.) + +Down, down, down. Would the fall NEVER come to an end! 'I wonder how +many miles I've fallen by this time?' she said aloud. 'I must be getting +somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four +thousand miles down, I think--' (for, you see, Alice had learnt several +things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this +was not a VERY good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there +was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) +'--yes, that's about the right distance--but then I wonder what Latitude +or Longitude I've got to?' (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or +Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.) + +Presently she began again. 'I wonder if I shall fall right THROUGH the +earth! How funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with +their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think--' (she was rather glad +there WAS no one listening, this time, as it didn't sound at all the +right word) '--but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country +is, you know. Please, Ma'am, is this New Zealand or Australia?' (and +she tried to curtsey as she spoke--fancy CURTSEYING as you're falling +through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) 'And what an +ignorant little girl she'll think me for asking! No, it'll never do to +ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.' + +Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began +talking again. 'Dinah'll miss me very much to-night, I should think!' +(Dinah was the cat.) 'I hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at +tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no +mice in the air, I'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very +like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?' And here Alice +began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy +sort of way, 'Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?' and sometimes, 'Do +bats eat cats?' for, you see, as she couldn't answer either question, +it didn't much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing +off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with +Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, 'Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: +did you ever eat a bat?' when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon +a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over. + +Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: +she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another +long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. +There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and +was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, 'Oh my ears +and whiskers, how late it's getting!' She was close behind it when she +turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found +herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging +from the roof. + +There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when +Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every +door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to +get out again. + +Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid +glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice's +first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; +but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, +but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second +time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and +behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the +little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted! + +Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not +much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage +into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of +that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and +those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the +doorway; 'and even if my head would go through,' thought poor Alice, 'it +would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could +shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only know how to begin.' +For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, +that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really +impossible. + +There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went +back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at +any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this +time she found a little bottle on it, ('which certainly was not here +before,' said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper +label, with the words 'DRINK ME' beautifully printed on it in large +letters. + +It was all very well to say 'Drink me,' but the wise little Alice was +not going to do THAT in a hurry. 'No, I'll look first,' she said, 'and +see whether it's marked "poison" or not'; for she had read several nice +little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild +beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they WOULD not remember +the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot +poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your +finger VERY deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never +forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked 'poison,' it is +almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later. + +However, this bottle was NOT marked 'poison,' so Alice ventured to taste +it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour +of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot +buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off. + + * * * * * * * + + * * * * * * + + * * * * * * * + +'What a curious feeling!' said Alice; 'I must be shutting up like a +telescope.' + +And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face +brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going +through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she +waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: +she felt a little nervous about this; 'for it might end, you know,' said +Alice to herself, 'in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder +what I should be like then?' And she tried to fancy what the flame of a +candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember +ever having seen such a thing. + +After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going +into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the +door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she +went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach +it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her +best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; +and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing +sat down and cried. + +'Come, there's no use in crying like that!' said Alice to herself, +rather sharply; 'I advise you to leave off this minute!' She generally +gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), +and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into +her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having +cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, +for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. +'But it's no use now,' thought poor Alice, 'to pretend to be two people! +Why, there's hardly enough of me left to make ONE respectable person!' + +Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: +she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words +'EAT ME' were beautifully marked in currants. 'Well, I'll eat it,' said +Alice, 'and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it +makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I'll +get into the garden, and I don't care which happens!' + +She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, 'Which way? Which +way?', holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was +growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same +size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice +had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way +things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on +in the common way. + +So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake. + + * * * * * * * + + * * * * * * + + * * * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER II. The Pool of Tears + +'Curiouser and curiouser!' cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that +for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); 'now I'm +opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!' +(for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of +sight, they were getting so far off). 'Oh, my poor little feet, I wonder +who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I'm sure +_I_ shan't be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble +myself about you: you must manage the best way you can;--but I must be +kind to them,' thought Alice, 'or perhaps they won't walk the way I want +to go! Let me see: I'll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas.' + +And she went on planning to herself how she would manage it. 'They must +go by the carrier,' she thought; 'and how funny it'll seem, sending +presents to one's own feet! And how odd the directions will look! + + ALICE'S RIGHT FOOT, ESQ. + HEARTHRUG, + NEAR THE FENDER, + (WITH ALICE'S LOVE). + +Oh dear, what nonsense I'm talking!' + +Just then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she was +now more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden +key and hurried off to the garden door. + +Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to +look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more +hopeless than ever: she sat down and began to cry again. + +'You ought to be ashamed of yourself,' said Alice, 'a great girl like +you,' (she might well say this), 'to go on crying in this way! Stop this +moment, I tell you!' But she went on all the same, shedding gallons of +tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about four inches +deep and reaching half down the hall. + +After a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and +she hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White +Rabbit returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in +one hand and a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a great +hurry, muttering to himself as he came, 'Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! +Oh! won't she be savage if I've kept her waiting!' Alice felt so +desperate that she was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the Rabbit +came near her, she began, in a low, timid voice, 'If you please, sir--' +The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan, +and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go. + +Alice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot, she +kept fanning herself all the time she went on talking: 'Dear, dear! How +queer everything is to-day! And yesterday things went on just as usual. +I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the +same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a +little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is, Who +in the world am I? Ah, THAT'S the great puzzle!' And she began thinking +over all the children she knew that were of the same age as herself, to +see if she could have been changed for any of them. + +'I'm sure I'm not Ada,' she said, 'for her hair goes in such long +ringlets, and mine doesn't go in ringlets at all; and I'm sure I can't +be Mabel, for I know all sorts of things, and she, oh! she knows such a +very little! Besides, SHE'S she, and I'm I, and--oh dear, how puzzling +it all is! I'll try if I know all the things I used to know. Let me +see: four times five is twelve, and four times six is thirteen, and +four times seven is--oh dear! I shall never get to twenty at that rate! +However, the Multiplication Table doesn't signify: let's try Geography. +London is the capital of Paris, and Paris is the capital of Rome, and +Rome--no, THAT'S all wrong, I'm certain! I must have been changed for +Mabel! I'll try and say "How doth the little--"' and she crossed her +hands on her lap as if she were saying lessons, and began to repeat it, +but her voice sounded hoarse and strange, and the words did not come the +same as they used to do:-- + + 'How doth the little crocodile + Improve his shining tail, + And pour the waters of the Nile + On every golden scale! + + 'How cheerfully he seems to grin, + How neatly spread his claws, + And welcome little fishes in + With gently smiling jaws!' + +'I'm sure those are not the right words,' said poor Alice, and her eyes +filled with tears again as she went on, 'I must be Mabel after all, and +I shall have to go and live in that poky little house, and have next to +no toys to play with, and oh! ever so many lessons to learn! No, I've +made up my mind about it; if I'm Mabel, I'll stay down here! It'll be no +use their putting their heads down and saying "Come up again, dear!" I +shall only look up and say "Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then, +if I like being that person, I'll come up: if not, I'll stay down here +till I'm somebody else"--but, oh dear!' cried Alice, with a sudden burst +of tears, 'I do wish they WOULD put their heads down! I am so VERY tired +of being all alone here!' + +As she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see +that she had put on one of the Rabbit's little white kid gloves while +she was talking. 'How CAN I have done that?' she thought. 'I must +be growing small again.' She got up and went to the table to measure +herself by it, and found that, as nearly as she could guess, she was now +about two feet high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: she soon found +out that the cause of this was the fan she was holding, and she dropped +it hastily, just in time to avoid shrinking away altogether. + +'That WAS a narrow escape!' said Alice, a good deal frightened at the +sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence; 'and +now for the garden!' and she ran with all speed back to the little door: +but, alas! the little door was shut again, and the little golden key was +lying on the glass table as before, 'and things are worse than ever,' +thought the poor child, 'for I never was so small as this before, never! +And I declare it's too bad, that it is!' + +As she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! +she was up to her chin in salt water. Her first idea was that she +had somehow fallen into the sea, 'and in that case I can go back by +railway,' she said to herself. (Alice had been to the seaside once in +her life, and had come to the general conclusion, that wherever you go +to on the English coast you find a number of bathing machines in the +sea, some children digging in the sand with wooden spades, then a row +of lodging houses, and behind them a railway station.) However, she soon +made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she +was nine feet high. + +'I wish I hadn't cried so much!' said Alice, as she swam about, trying +to find her way out. 'I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by +being drowned in my own tears! That WILL be a queer thing, to be sure! +However, everything is queer to-day.' + +Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way +off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought +it must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small +she was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had +slipped in like herself. + +'Would it be of any use, now,' thought Alice, 'to speak to this mouse? +Everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that I should think very +likely it can talk: at any rate, there's no harm in trying.' So she +began: 'O Mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired +of swimming about here, O Mouse!' (Alice thought this must be the right +way of speaking to a mouse: she had never done such a thing before, but +she remembered having seen in her brother's Latin Grammar, 'A mouse--of +a mouse--to a mouse--a mouse--O mouse!') The Mouse looked at her rather +inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, +but it said nothing. + +'Perhaps it doesn't understand English,' thought Alice; 'I daresay it's +a French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror.' (For, with all +her knowledge of history, Alice had no very clear notion how long ago +anything had happened.) So she began again: 'Ou est ma chatte?' which +was the first sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave a +sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with fright. +'Oh, I beg your pardon!' cried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt +the poor animal's feelings. 'I quite forgot you didn't like cats.' + +'Not like cats!' cried the Mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice. 'Would +YOU like cats if you were me?' + +'Well, perhaps not,' said Alice in a soothing tone: 'don't be angry +about it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah: I think you'd +take a fancy to cats if you could only see her. She is such a dear quiet +thing,' Alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about in the +pool, 'and she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her paws and +washing her face--and she is such a nice soft thing to nurse--and she's +such a capital one for catching mice--oh, I beg your pardon!' cried +Alice again, for this time the Mouse was bristling all over, and she +felt certain it must be really offended. 'We won't talk about her any +more if you'd rather not.' + +'We indeed!' cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of his +tail. 'As if I would talk on such a subject! Our family always HATED +cats: nasty, low, vulgar things! Don't let me hear the name again!' + +'I won't indeed!' said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of +conversation. 'Are you--are you fond--of--of dogs?' The Mouse did not +answer, so Alice went on eagerly: 'There is such a nice little dog near +our house I should like to show you! A little bright-eyed terrier, you +know, with oh, such long curly brown hair! And it'll fetch things when +you throw them, and it'll sit up and beg for its dinner, and all sorts +of things--I can't remember half of them--and it belongs to a farmer, +you know, and he says it's so useful, it's worth a hundred pounds! He +says it kills all the rats and--oh dear!' cried Alice in a sorrowful +tone, 'I'm afraid I've offended it again!' For the Mouse was swimming +away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in +the pool as it went. + +So she called softly after it, 'Mouse dear! Do come back again, and we +won't talk about cats or dogs either, if you don't like them!' When the +Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its +face was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a low +trembling voice, 'Let us get to the shore, and then I'll tell you my +history, and you'll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs.' + +It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the +birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a Duck and a Dodo, +a Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice led the +way, and the whole party swam to the shore. + + + + +CHAPTER III. A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale + +They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank--the +birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close +to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable. + +The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a +consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural +to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had +known them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument with the +Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, 'I am older than +you, and must know better'; and this Alice would not allow without +knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its +age, there was no more to be said. + +At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, +called out, 'Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! I'LL soon make you +dry enough!' They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the Mouse +in the middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for she felt +sure she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon. + +'Ahem!' said the Mouse with an important air, 'are you all ready? This +is the driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! "William +the Conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted +to by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much +accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of +Mercia and Northumbria--"' + +'Ugh!' said the Lory, with a shiver. + +'I beg your pardon!' said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely: 'Did +you speak?' + +'Not I!' said the Lory hastily. + +'I thought you did,' said the Mouse. '--I proceed. "Edwin and Morcar, +the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even Stigand, +the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable--"' + +'Found WHAT?' said the Duck. + +'Found IT,' the Mouse replied rather crossly: 'of course you know what +"it" means.' + +'I know what "it" means well enough, when I find a thing,' said the +Duck: 'it's generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did the +archbishop find?' + +The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, '"--found +it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him the +crown. William's conduct at first was moderate. But the insolence of his +Normans--" How are you getting on now, my dear?' it continued, turning +to Alice as it spoke. + +'As wet as ever,' said Alice in a melancholy tone: 'it doesn't seem to +dry me at all.' + +'In that case,' said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, 'I move +that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic +remedies--' + +'Speak English!' said the Eaglet. 'I don't know the meaning of half +those long words, and, what's more, I don't believe you do either!' And +the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds +tittered audibly. + +'What I was going to say,' said the Dodo in an offended tone, 'was, that +the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.' + +'What IS a Caucus-race?' said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, +but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that SOMEBODY ought to speak, +and no one else seemed inclined to say anything. + +'Why,' said the Dodo, 'the best way to explain it is to do it.' (And, as +you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell +you how the Dodo managed it.) + +First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, ('the exact +shape doesn't matter,' it said,) and then all the party were placed +along the course, here and there. There was no 'One, two, three, and +away,' but they began running when they liked, and left off when they +liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, +when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, +the Dodo suddenly called out 'The race is over!' and they all crowded +round it, panting, and asking, 'But who has won?' + +This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, +and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead +(the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures +of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, +'EVERYBODY has won, and all must have prizes.' + +'But who is to give the prizes?' quite a chorus of voices asked. + +'Why, SHE, of course,' said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger; +and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused +way, 'Prizes! Prizes!' + +Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her +pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the salt water had +not got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one +a-piece all round. + +'But she must have a prize herself, you know,' said the Mouse. + +'Of course,' the Dodo replied very gravely. 'What else have you got in +your pocket?' he went on, turning to Alice. + +'Only a thimble,' said Alice sadly. + +'Hand it over here,' said the Dodo. + +Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly +presented the thimble, saying 'We beg your acceptance of this elegant +thimble'; and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered. + +Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave +that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything +to say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she +could. + +The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and +confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste +theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. +However, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and +begged the Mouse to tell them something more. + +'You promised to tell me your history, you know,' said Alice, 'and why +it is you hate--C and D,' she added in a whisper, half afraid that it +would be offended again. + +'Mine is a long and a sad tale!' said the Mouse, turning to Alice, and +sighing. + +'It IS a long tail, certainly,' said Alice, looking down with wonder at +the Mouse's tail; 'but why do you call it sad?' And she kept on puzzling +about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was +something like this:-- + + 'Fury said to a + mouse, That he + met in the + house, + "Let us + both go to + law: I will + prosecute + YOU.--Come, + I'll take no + denial; We + must have a + trial: For + really this + morning I've + nothing + to do." + Said the + mouse to the + cur, "Such + a trial, + dear Sir, + With + no jury + or judge, + would be + wasting + our + breath." + "I'll be + judge, I'll + be jury," + Said + cunning + old Fury: + "I'll + try the + whole + cause, + and + condemn + you + to + death."' + + +'You are not attending!' said the Mouse to Alice severely. 'What are you +thinking of?' + +'I beg your pardon,' said Alice very humbly: 'you had got to the fifth +bend, I think?' + +'I had NOT!' cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily. + +'A knot!' said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking +anxiously about her. 'Oh, do let me help to undo it!' + +'I shall do nothing of the sort,' said the Mouse, getting up and walking +away. 'You insult me by talking such nonsense!' + +'I didn't mean it!' pleaded poor Alice. 'But you're so easily offended, +you know!' + +The Mouse only growled in reply. + +'Please come back and finish your story!' Alice called after it; and the +others all joined in chorus, 'Yes, please do!' but the Mouse only shook +its head impatiently, and walked a little quicker. + +'What a pity it wouldn't stay!' sighed the Lory, as soon as it was quite +out of sight; and an old Crab took the opportunity of saying to her +daughter 'Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose +YOUR temper!' 'Hold your tongue, Ma!' said the young Crab, a little +snappishly. 'You're enough to try the patience of an oyster!' + +'I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!' said Alice aloud, addressing +nobody in particular. 'She'd soon fetch it back!' + +'And who is Dinah, if I might venture to ask the question?' said the +Lory. + +Alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet: +'Dinah's our cat. And she's such a capital one for catching mice you +can't think! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds! Why, +she'll eat a little bird as soon as look at it!' + +This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the +birds hurried off at once: one old Magpie began wrapping itself up very +carefully, remarking, 'I really must be getting home; the night-air +doesn't suit my throat!' and a Canary called out in a trembling voice to +its children, 'Come away, my dears! It's high time you were all in bed!' +On various pretexts they all moved off, and Alice was soon left alone. + +'I wish I hadn't mentioned Dinah!' she said to herself in a melancholy +tone. 'Nobody seems to like her, down here, and I'm sure she's the best +cat in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I shall ever see you +any more!' And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very +lonely and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard +a little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and she looked up +eagerly, half hoping that the Mouse had changed his mind, and was coming +back to finish his story. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill + +It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking +anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard +it muttering to itself 'The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh +my fur and whiskers! She'll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are +ferrets! Where CAN I have dropped them, I wonder?' Alice guessed in a +moment that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, +and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were +nowhere to be seen--everything seemed to have changed since her swim in +the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, +had vanished completely. + +Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she went hunting about, and +called out to her in an angry tone, 'Why, Mary Ann, what ARE you doing +out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! +Quick, now!' And Alice was so much frightened that she ran off at once +in the direction it pointed to, without trying to explain the mistake it +had made. + +'He took me for his housemaid,' she said to herself as she ran. 'How +surprised he'll be when he finds out who I am! But I'd better take him +his fan and gloves--that is, if I can find them.' As she said this, she +came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass +plate with the name 'W. RABBIT' engraved upon it. She went in without +knocking, and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the +real Mary Ann, and be turned out of the house before she had found the +fan and gloves. + +'How queer it seems,' Alice said to herself, 'to be going messages for +a rabbit! I suppose Dinah'll be sending me on messages next!' And she +began fancying the sort of thing that would happen: '"Miss Alice! Come +here directly, and get ready for your walk!" "Coming in a minute, +nurse! But I've got to see that the mouse doesn't get out." Only I don't +think,' Alice went on, 'that they'd let Dinah stop in the house if it +began ordering people about like that!' + +By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table +in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs +of tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves, +and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little +bottle that stood near the looking-glass. There was no label this time +with the words 'DRINK ME,' but nevertheless she uncorked it and put it +to her lips. 'I know SOMETHING interesting is sure to happen,' she said +to herself, 'whenever I eat or drink anything; so I'll just see what +this bottle does. I do hope it'll make me grow large again, for really +I'm quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!' + +It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she had +drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, +and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She hastily put +down the bottle, saying to herself 'That's quite enough--I hope I shan't +grow any more--As it is, I can't get out at the door--I do wish I hadn't +drunk quite so much!' + +Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing, +and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there +was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with +one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. +Still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out +of the window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself 'Now I +can do no more, whatever happens. What WILL become of me?' + +Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, +and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, as there +seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room +again, no wonder she felt unhappy. + +'It was much pleasanter at home,' thought poor Alice, 'when one wasn't +always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and +rabbits. I almost wish I hadn't gone down that rabbit-hole--and yet--and +yet--it's rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what +CAN have happened to me! When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied that +kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! +There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! And when I +grow up, I'll write one--but I'm grown up now,' she added in a sorrowful +tone; 'at least there's no room to grow up any more HERE.' + +'But then,' thought Alice, 'shall I NEVER get any older than I am +now? That'll be a comfort, one way--never to be an old woman--but +then--always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn't like THAT!' + +'Oh, you foolish Alice!' she answered herself. 'How can you learn +lessons in here? Why, there's hardly room for YOU, and no room at all +for any lesson-books!' + +And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making +quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes she heard +a voice outside, and stopped to listen. + +'Mary Ann! Mary Ann!' said the voice. 'Fetch me my gloves this moment!' +Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice knew it was +the Rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the +house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large +as the Rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid of it. + +Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as +the door opened inwards, and Alice's elbow was pressed hard against it, +that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to itself 'Then I'll +go round and get in at the window.' + +'THAT you won't' thought Alice, and, after waiting till she fancied +she heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her +hand, and made a snatch in the air. She did not get hold of anything, +but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, +from which she concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a +cucumber-frame, or something of the sort. + +Next came an angry voice--the Rabbit's--'Pat! Pat! Where are you?' And +then a voice she had never heard before, 'Sure then I'm here! Digging +for apples, yer honour!' + +'Digging for apples, indeed!' said the Rabbit angrily. 'Here! Come and +help me out of THIS!' (Sounds of more broken glass.) + +'Now tell me, Pat, what's that in the window?' + +'Sure, it's an arm, yer honour!' (He pronounced it 'arrum.') + +'An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the whole +window!' + +'Sure, it does, yer honour: but it's an arm for all that.' + +'Well, it's got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!' + +There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear whispers +now and then; such as, 'Sure, I don't like it, yer honour, at all, at +all!' 'Do as I tell you, you coward!' and at last she spread out her +hand again, and made another snatch in the air. This time there were +TWO little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass. 'What a number of +cucumber-frames there must be!' thought Alice. 'I wonder what they'll do +next! As for pulling me out of the window, I only wish they COULD! I'm +sure I don't want to stay in here any longer!' + +She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a +rumbling of little cartwheels, and the sound of a good many voices +all talking together: she made out the words: 'Where's the other +ladder?--Why, I hadn't to bring but one; Bill's got the other--Bill! +fetch it here, lad!--Here, put 'em up at this corner--No, tie 'em +together first--they don't reach half high enough yet--Oh! they'll +do well enough; don't be particular--Here, Bill! catch hold of this +rope--Will the roof bear?--Mind that loose slate--Oh, it's coming +down! Heads below!' (a loud crash)--'Now, who did that?--It was Bill, I +fancy--Who's to go down the chimney?--Nay, I shan't! YOU do it!--That I +won't, then!--Bill's to go down--Here, Bill! the master says you're to +go down the chimney!' + +'Oh! So Bill's got to come down the chimney, has he?' said Alice to +herself. 'Shy, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn't be in +Bill's place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; but +I THINK I can kick a little!' + +She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited +till she heard a little animal (she couldn't guess of what sort it was) +scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: then, +saying to herself 'This is Bill,' she gave one sharp kick, and waited to +see what would happen next. + +The first thing she heard was a general chorus of 'There goes Bill!' +then the Rabbit's voice along--'Catch him, you by the hedge!' then +silence, and then another confusion of voices--'Hold up his head--Brandy +now--Don't choke him--How was it, old fellow? What happened to you? Tell +us all about it!' + +Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, ('That's Bill,' thought +Alice,) 'Well, I hardly know--No more, thank ye; I'm better now--but I'm +a deal too flustered to tell you--all I know is, something comes at me +like a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!' + +'So you did, old fellow!' said the others. + +'We must burn the house down!' said the Rabbit's voice; and Alice called +out as loud as she could, 'If you do. I'll set Dinah at you!' + +There was a dead silence instantly, and Alice thought to herself, 'I +wonder what they WILL do next! If they had any sense, they'd take the +roof off.' After a minute or two, they began moving about again, and +Alice heard the Rabbit say, 'A barrowful will do, to begin with.' + +'A barrowful of WHAT?' thought Alice; but she had not long to doubt, +for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the +window, and some of them hit her in the face. 'I'll put a stop to this,' +she said to herself, and shouted out, 'You'd better not do that again!' +which produced another dead silence. + +Alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into +little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her +head. 'If I eat one of these cakes,' she thought, 'it's sure to make +SOME change in my size; and as it can't possibly make me larger, it must +make me smaller, I suppose.' + +So she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she +began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get through +the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of little +animals and birds waiting outside. The poor little Lizard, Bill, was +in the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it +something out of a bottle. They all made a rush at Alice the moment she +appeared; but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon found herself +safe in a thick wood. + +'The first thing I've got to do,' said Alice to herself, as she wandered +about in the wood, 'is to grow to my right size again; and the second +thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think that will be +the best plan.' + +It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply +arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea +how to set about it; and while she was peering about anxiously among +the trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a +great hurry. + +An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and +feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her. 'Poor little thing!' +said Alice, in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle to it; but +she was terribly frightened all the time at the thought that it might be +hungry, in which case it would be very likely to eat her up in spite of +all her coaxing. + +Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and +held it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off +all its feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, +and made believe to worry it; then Alice dodged behind a great thistle, +to keep herself from being run over; and the moment she appeared on the +other side, the puppy made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head +over heels in its hurry to get hold of it; then Alice, thinking it was +very like having a game of play with a cart-horse, and expecting every +moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again; then +the puppy began a series of short charges at the stick, running a very +little way forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely +all the while, till at last it sat down a good way off, panting, with +its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut. + +This seemed to Alice a good opportunity for making her escape; so she +set off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, and +till the puppy's bark sounded quite faint in the distance. + +'And yet what a dear little puppy it was!' said Alice, as she leant +against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of the +leaves: 'I should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if--if I'd +only been the right size to do it! Oh dear! I'd nearly forgotten that +I've got to grow up again! Let me see--how IS it to be managed? I +suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great +question is, what?' + +The great question certainly was, what? Alice looked all round her at +the flowers and the blades of grass, but she did not see anything that +looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. +There was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as +herself; and when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and +behind it, it occurred to her that she might as well look and see what +was on the top of it. + +She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the +mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large caterpillar, +that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long +hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else. + + + + +CHAPTER V. Advice from a Caterpillar + +The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: +at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed +her in a languid, sleepy voice. + +'Who are YOU?' said the Caterpillar. + +This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, +rather shyly, 'I--I hardly know, sir, just at present--at least I know +who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been +changed several times since then.' + +'What do you mean by that?' said the Caterpillar sternly. 'Explain +yourself!' + +'I can't explain MYSELF, I'm afraid, sir' said Alice, 'because I'm not +myself, you see.' + +'I don't see,' said the Caterpillar. + +'I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly,' Alice replied very politely, +'for I can't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many +different sizes in a day is very confusing.' + +'It isn't,' said the Caterpillar. + +'Well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet,' said Alice; 'but when you +have to turn into a chrysalis--you will some day, you know--and then +after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a little +queer, won't you?' + +'Not a bit,' said the Caterpillar. + +'Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,' said Alice; 'all I know +is, it would feel very queer to ME.' + +'You!' said the Caterpillar contemptuously. 'Who are YOU?' + +Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. +Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar's making such VERY +short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, 'I think, +you ought to tell me who YOU are, first.' + +'Why?' said the Caterpillar. + +Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any +good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a VERY unpleasant +state of mind, she turned away. + +'Come back!' the Caterpillar called after her. 'I've something important +to say!' + +This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again. + +'Keep your temper,' said the Caterpillar. + +'Is that all?' said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she +could. + +'No,' said the Caterpillar. + +Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and +perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For some +minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its +arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, 'So you think +you're changed, do you?' + +'I'm afraid I am, sir,' said Alice; 'I can't remember things as I +used--and I don't keep the same size for ten minutes together!' + +'Can't remember WHAT things?' said the Caterpillar. + +'Well, I've tried to say "HOW DOTH THE LITTLE BUSY BEE," but it all came +different!' Alice replied in a very melancholy voice. + +'Repeat, "YOU ARE OLD, FATHER WILLIAM,"' said the Caterpillar. + +Alice folded her hands, and began:-- + + 'You are old, Father William,' the young man said, + 'And your hair has become very white; + And yet you incessantly stand on your head-- + Do you think, at your age, it is right?' + + 'In my youth,' Father William replied to his son, + 'I feared it might injure the brain; + But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none, + Why, I do it again and again.' + + 'You are old,' said the youth, 'as I mentioned before, + And have grown most uncommonly fat; + Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door-- + Pray, what is the reason of that?' + + 'In my youth,' said the sage, as he shook his grey locks, + 'I kept all my limbs very supple + By the use of this ointment--one shilling the box-- + Allow me to sell you a couple?' + + 'You are old,' said the youth, 'and your jaws are too weak + For anything tougher than suet; + Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak-- + Pray how did you manage to do it?' + + 'In my youth,' said his father, 'I took to the law, + And argued each case with my wife; + And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, + Has lasted the rest of my life.' + + 'You are old,' said the youth, 'one would hardly suppose + That your eye was as steady as ever; + Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose-- + What made you so awfully clever?' + + 'I have answered three questions, and that is enough,' + Said his father; 'don't give yourself airs! + Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? + Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!' + + +'That is not said right,' said the Caterpillar. + +'Not QUITE right, I'm afraid,' said Alice, timidly; 'some of the words +have got altered.' + +'It is wrong from beginning to end,' said the Caterpillar decidedly, and +there was silence for some minutes. + +The Caterpillar was the first to speak. + +'What size do you want to be?' it asked. + +'Oh, I'm not particular as to size,' Alice hastily replied; 'only one +doesn't like changing so often, you know.' + +'I DON'T know,' said the Caterpillar. + +Alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in her life +before, and she felt that she was losing her temper. + +'Are you content now?' said the Caterpillar. + +'Well, I should like to be a LITTLE larger, sir, if you wouldn't mind,' +said Alice: 'three inches is such a wretched height to be.' + +'It is a very good height indeed!' said the Caterpillar angrily, rearing +itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high). + +'But I'm not used to it!' pleaded poor Alice in a piteous tone. And +she thought of herself, 'I wish the creatures wouldn't be so easily +offended!' + +'You'll get used to it in time,' said the Caterpillar; and it put the +hookah into its mouth and began smoking again. + +This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In +a minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth +and yawned once or twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the +mushroom, and crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, +'One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you +grow shorter.' + +'One side of WHAT? The other side of WHAT?' thought Alice to herself. + +'Of the mushroom,' said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it +aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight. + +Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying +to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly +round, she found this a very difficult question. However, at last she +stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit +of the edge with each hand. + +'And now which is which?' she said to herself, and nibbled a little of +the right-hand bit to try the effect: the next moment she felt a violent +blow underneath her chin: it had struck her foot! + +She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt +that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she +set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin was pressed +so closely against her foot, that there was hardly room to open her +mouth; but she did it at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the +lefthand bit. + + + * * * * * * * + + * * * * * * + + * * * * * * * + +'Come, my head's free at last!' said Alice in a tone of delight, which +changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her shoulders +were nowhere to be found: all she could see, when she looked down, was +an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a +sea of green leaves that lay far below her. + +'What CAN all that green stuff be?' said Alice. 'And where HAVE my +shoulders got to? And oh, my poor hands, how is it I can't see you?' +She was moving them about as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow, +except a little shaking among the distant green leaves. + +As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she +tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that her +neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. She had +just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was going +to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops +of the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made +her draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and +was beating her violently with its wings. + +'Serpent!' screamed the Pigeon. + +'I'm NOT a serpent!' said Alice indignantly. 'Let me alone!' + +'Serpent, I say again!' repeated the Pigeon, but in a more subdued tone, +and added with a kind of sob, 'I've tried every way, and nothing seems +to suit them!' + +'I haven't the least idea what you're talking about,' said Alice. + +'I've tried the roots of trees, and I've tried banks, and I've tried +hedges,' the Pigeon went on, without attending to her; 'but those +serpents! There's no pleasing them!' + +Alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in +saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished. + +'As if it wasn't trouble enough hatching the eggs,' said the Pigeon; +'but I must be on the look-out for serpents night and day! Why, I +haven't had a wink of sleep these three weeks!' + +'I'm very sorry you've been annoyed,' said Alice, who was beginning to +see its meaning. + +'And just as I'd taken the highest tree in the wood,' continued the +Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, 'and just as I was thinking I +should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down from +the sky! Ugh, Serpent!' + +'But I'm NOT a serpent, I tell you!' said Alice. 'I'm a--I'm a--' + +'Well! WHAT are you?' said the Pigeon. 'I can see you're trying to +invent something!' + +'I--I'm a little girl,' said Alice, rather doubtfully, as she remembered +the number of changes she had gone through that day. + +'A likely story indeed!' said the Pigeon in a tone of the deepest +contempt. 'I've seen a good many little girls in my time, but never ONE +with such a neck as that! No, no! You're a serpent; and there's no use +denying it. I suppose you'll be telling me next that you never tasted an +egg!' + +'I HAVE tasted eggs, certainly,' said Alice, who was a very truthful +child; 'but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you +know.' + +'I don't believe it,' said the Pigeon; 'but if they do, why then they're +a kind of serpent, that's all I can say.' + +This was such a new idea to Alice, that she was quite silent for a +minute or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding, 'You're +looking for eggs, I know THAT well enough; and what does it matter to me +whether you're a little girl or a serpent?' + +'It matters a good deal to ME,' said Alice hastily; 'but I'm not looking +for eggs, as it happens; and if I was, I shouldn't want YOURS: I don't +like them raw.' + +'Well, be off, then!' said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled +down again into its nest. Alice crouched down among the trees as well as +she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and +every now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After a while she +remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and +she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the +other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had +succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height. + +It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it +felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, +and began talking to herself, as usual. 'Come, there's half my plan done +now! How puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going +to be, from one minute to another! However, I've got back to my right +size: the next thing is, to get into that beautiful garden--how IS that +to be done, I wonder?' As she said this, she came suddenly upon an open +place, with a little house in it about four feet high. 'Whoever lives +there,' thought Alice, 'it'll never do to come upon them THIS size: why, +I should frighten them out of their wits!' So she began nibbling at the +righthand bit again, and did not venture to go near the house till she +had brought herself down to nine inches high. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. Pig and Pepper + +For a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what +to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the +wood--(she considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: +otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a +fish)--and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. It was opened +by another footman in livery, with a round face, and large eyes like a +frog; and both footmen, Alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled all +over their heads. She felt very curious to know what it was all about, +and crept a little way out of the wood to listen. + +The Fish-Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, +nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, +saying, in a solemn tone, 'For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen +to play croquet.' The Frog-Footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, +only changing the order of the words a little, 'From the Queen. An +invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.' + +Then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together. + +Alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the +wood for fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the +Fish-Footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the +door, staring stupidly up into the sky. + +Alice went timidly up to the door, and knocked. + +'There's no sort of use in knocking,' said the Footman, 'and that for +two reasons. First, because I'm on the same side of the door as you +are; secondly, because they're making such a noise inside, no one could +possibly hear you.' And certainly there was a most extraordinary noise +going on within--a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and then +a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces. + +'Please, then,' said Alice, 'how am I to get in?' + +'There might be some sense in your knocking,' the Footman went on +without attending to her, 'if we had the door between us. For instance, +if you were INSIDE, you might knock, and I could let you out, you know.' +He was looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking, and this +Alice thought decidedly uncivil. 'But perhaps he can't help it,' she +said to herself; 'his eyes are so VERY nearly at the top of his head. +But at any rate he might answer questions.--How am I to get in?' she +repeated, aloud. + +'I shall sit here,' the Footman remarked, 'till tomorrow--' + +At this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came +skimming out, straight at the Footman's head: it just grazed his nose, +and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him. + +'--or next day, maybe,' the Footman continued in the same tone, exactly +as if nothing had happened. + +'How am I to get in?' asked Alice again, in a louder tone. + +'ARE you to get in at all?' said the Footman. 'That's the first +question, you know.' + +It was, no doubt: only Alice did not like to be told so. 'It's really +dreadful,' she muttered to herself, 'the way all the creatures argue. +It's enough to drive one crazy!' + +The Footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his +remark, with variations. 'I shall sit here,' he said, 'on and off, for +days and days.' + +'But what am I to do?' said Alice. + +'Anything you like,' said the Footman, and began whistling. + +'Oh, there's no use in talking to him,' said Alice desperately: 'he's +perfectly idiotic!' And she opened the door and went in. + +The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from +one end to the other: the Duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in +the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring +a large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup. + +'There's certainly too much pepper in that soup!' Alice said to herself, +as well as she could for sneezing. + +There was certainly too much of it in the air. Even the Duchess +sneezed occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling +alternately without a moment's pause. The only things in the kitchen +that did not sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat which was sitting on +the hearth and grinning from ear to ear. + +'Please would you tell me,' said Alice, a little timidly, for she was +not quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, 'why +your cat grins like that?' + +'It's a Cheshire cat,' said the Duchess, 'and that's why. Pig!' + +She said the last word with such sudden violence that Alice quite +jumped; but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby, +and not to her, so she took courage, and went on again:-- + +'I didn't know that Cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, I didn't know +that cats COULD grin.' + +'They all can,' said the Duchess; 'and most of 'em do.' + +'I don't know of any that do,' Alice said very politely, feeling quite +pleased to have got into a conversation. + +'You don't know much,' said the Duchess; 'and that's a fact.' + +Alice did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it would +be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation. While she +was trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of soup off the +fire, and at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at +the Duchess and the baby--the fire-irons came first; then followed a +shower of saucepans, plates, and dishes. The Duchess took no notice of +them even when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much already, +that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not. + +'Oh, PLEASE mind what you're doing!' cried Alice, jumping up and down in +an agony of terror. 'Oh, there goes his PRECIOUS nose'; as an unusually +large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly carried it off. + +'If everybody minded their own business,' the Duchess said in a hoarse +growl, 'the world would go round a deal faster than it does.' + +'Which would NOT be an advantage,' said Alice, who felt very glad to get +an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. 'Just think of +what work it would make with the day and night! You see the earth takes +twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis--' + +'Talking of axes,' said the Duchess, 'chop off her head!' + +Alice glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant to take +the hint; but the cook was busily stirring the soup, and seemed not to +be listening, so she went on again: 'Twenty-four hours, I THINK; or is +it twelve? I--' + +'Oh, don't bother ME,' said the Duchess; 'I never could abide figures!' +And with that she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of +lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at the end of +every line: + + 'Speak roughly to your little boy, + And beat him when he sneezes: + He only does it to annoy, + Because he knows it teases.' + + CHORUS. + + (In which the cook and the baby joined):-- + + 'Wow! wow! wow!' + +While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing +the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, +that Alice could hardly hear the words:-- + + 'I speak severely to my boy, + I beat him when he sneezes; + For he can thoroughly enjoy + The pepper when he pleases!' + + CHORUS. + + 'Wow! wow! wow!' + +'Here! you may nurse it a bit, if you like!' the Duchess said to Alice, +flinging the baby at her as she spoke. 'I must go and get ready to play +croquet with the Queen,' and she hurried out of the room. The cook threw +a frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed her. + +Alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped +little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, 'just +like a star-fish,' thought Alice. The poor little thing was snorting +like a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and +straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for the first minute +or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it. + +As soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, (which was to +twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of its right +ear and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself,) she carried +it out into the open air. 'IF I don't take this child away with me,' +thought Alice, 'they're sure to kill it in a day or two: wouldn't it be +murder to leave it behind?' She said the last words out loud, and the +little thing grunted in reply (it had left off sneezing by this time). +'Don't grunt,' said Alice; 'that's not at all a proper way of expressing +yourself.' + +The baby grunted again, and Alice looked very anxiously into its face to +see what was the matter with it. There could be no doubt that it had +a VERY turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; also its +eyes were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether Alice did not +like the look of the thing at all. 'But perhaps it was only sobbing,' +she thought, and looked into its eyes again, to see if there were any +tears. + +No, there were no tears. 'If you're going to turn into a pig, my dear,' +said Alice, seriously, 'I'll have nothing more to do with you. Mind +now!' The poor little thing sobbed again (or grunted, it was impossible +to say which), and they went on for some while in silence. + +Alice was just beginning to think to herself, 'Now, what am I to do with +this creature when I get it home?' when it grunted again, so violently, +that she looked down into its face in some alarm. This time there could +be NO mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, and she +felt that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it further. + +So she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see +it trot away quietly into the wood. 'If it had grown up,' she said +to herself, 'it would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but it makes +rather a handsome pig, I think.' And she began thinking over other +children she knew, who might do very well as pigs, and was just saying +to herself, 'if one only knew the right way to change them--' when she +was a little startled by seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on a bough of a +tree a few yards off. + +The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good-natured, she +thought: still it had VERY long claws and a great many teeth, so she +felt that it ought to be treated with respect. + +'Cheshire Puss,' she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know +whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. +'Come, it's pleased so far,' thought Alice, and she went on. 'Would you +tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?' + +'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat. + +'I don't much care where--' said Alice. + +'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat. + +'--so long as I get SOMEWHERE,' Alice added as an explanation. + +'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long +enough.' + +Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. +'What sort of people live about here?' + +'In THAT direction,' the Cat said, waving its right paw round, 'lives +a Hatter: and in THAT direction,' waving the other paw, 'lives a March +Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad.' + +'But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked. + +'Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: 'we're all mad here. I'm mad. +You're mad.' + +'How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice. + +'You must be,' said the Cat, 'or you wouldn't have come here.' + +Alice didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on 'And how +do you know that you're mad?' + +'To begin with,' said the Cat, 'a dog's not mad. You grant that?' + +'I suppose so,' said Alice. + +'Well, then,' the Cat went on, 'you see, a dog growls when it's angry, +and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and +wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad.' + +'I call it purring, not growling,' said Alice. + +'Call it what you like,' said the Cat. 'Do you play croquet with the +Queen to-day?' + +'I should like it very much,' said Alice, 'but I haven't been invited +yet.' + +'You'll see me there,' said the Cat, and vanished. + +Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer +things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, +it suddenly appeared again. + +'By-the-bye, what became of the baby?' said the Cat. 'I'd nearly +forgotten to ask.' + +'It turned into a pig,' Alice quietly said, just as if it had come back +in a natural way. + +'I thought it would,' said the Cat, and vanished again. + +Alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not +appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in +which the March Hare was said to live. 'I've seen hatters before,' she +said to herself; 'the March Hare will be much the most interesting, and +perhaps as this is May it won't be raving mad--at least not so mad as +it was in March.' As she said this, she looked up, and there was the Cat +again, sitting on a branch of a tree. + +'Did you say pig, or fig?' said the Cat. + +'I said pig,' replied Alice; 'and I wish you wouldn't keep appearing and +vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy.' + +'All right,' said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, +beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which +remained some time after the rest of it had gone. + +'Well! I've often seen a cat without a grin,' thought Alice; 'but a grin +without a cat! It's the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!' + +She had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house +of the March Hare: she thought it must be the right house, because the +chimneys were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with fur. It +was so large a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she had +nibbled some more of the lefthand bit of mushroom, and raised herself to +about two feet high: even then she walked up towards it rather timidly, +saying to herself 'Suppose it should be raving mad after all! I almost +wish I'd gone to see the Hatter instead!' + + + + +CHAPTER VII. A Mad Tea-Party + +There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the +March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting +between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a +cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. 'Very +uncomfortable for the Dormouse,' thought Alice; 'only, as it's asleep, I +suppose it doesn't mind.' + +The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at +one corner of it: 'No room! No room!' they cried out when they saw Alice +coming. 'There's PLENTY of room!' said Alice indignantly, and she sat +down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table. + +'Have some wine,' the March Hare said in an encouraging tone. + +Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. +'I don't see any wine,' she remarked. + +'There isn't any,' said the March Hare. + +'Then it wasn't very civil of you to offer it,' said Alice angrily. + +'It wasn't very civil of you to sit down without being invited,' said +the March Hare. + +'I didn't know it was YOUR table,' said Alice; 'it's laid for a great +many more than three.' + +'Your hair wants cutting,' said the Hatter. He had been looking at Alice +for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech. + +'You should learn not to make personal remarks,' Alice said with some +severity; 'it's very rude.' + +The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he SAID +was, 'Why is a raven like a writing-desk?' + +'Come, we shall have some fun now!' thought Alice. 'I'm glad they've +begun asking riddles.--I believe I can guess that,' she added aloud. + +'Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?' said the +March Hare. + +'Exactly so,' said Alice. + +'Then you should say what you mean,' the March Hare went on. + +'I do,' Alice hastily replied; 'at least--at least I mean what I +say--that's the same thing, you know.' + +'Not the same thing a bit!' said the Hatter. 'You might just as well say +that "I see what I eat" is the same thing as "I eat what I see"!' + +'You might just as well say,' added the March Hare, 'that "I like what I +get" is the same thing as "I get what I like"!' + +'You might just as well say,' added the Dormouse, who seemed to be +talking in his sleep, 'that "I breathe when I sleep" is the same thing +as "I sleep when I breathe"!' + +'It IS the same thing with you,' said the Hatter, and here the +conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice +thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, +which wasn't much. + +The Hatter was the first to break the silence. 'What day of the month +is it?' he said, turning to Alice: he had taken his watch out of his +pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, +and holding it to his ear. + +Alice considered a little, and then said 'The fourth.' + +'Two days wrong!' sighed the Hatter. 'I told you butter wouldn't suit +the works!' he added looking angrily at the March Hare. + +'It was the BEST butter,' the March Hare meekly replied. + +'Yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well,' the Hatter grumbled: +'you shouldn't have put it in with the bread-knife.' + +The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped +it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of +nothing better to say than his first remark, 'It was the BEST butter, +you know.' + +Alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity. 'What a +funny watch!' she remarked. 'It tells the day of the month, and doesn't +tell what o'clock it is!' + +'Why should it?' muttered the Hatter. 'Does YOUR watch tell you what +year it is?' + +'Of course not,' Alice replied very readily: 'but that's because it +stays the same year for such a long time together.' + +'Which is just the case with MINE,' said the Hatter. + +Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter's remark seemed to have no +sort of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English. 'I don't quite +understand you,' she said, as politely as she could. + +'The Dormouse is asleep again,' said the Hatter, and he poured a little +hot tea upon its nose. + +The Dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its +eyes, 'Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself.' + +'Have you guessed the riddle yet?' the Hatter said, turning to Alice +again. + +'No, I give it up,' Alice replied: 'what's the answer?' + +'I haven't the slightest idea,' said the Hatter. + +'Nor I,' said the March Hare. + +Alice sighed wearily. 'I think you might do something better with the +time,' she said, 'than waste it in asking riddles that have no answers.' + +'If you knew Time as well as I do,' said the Hatter, 'you wouldn't talk +about wasting IT. It's HIM.' + +'I don't know what you mean,' said Alice. + +'Of course you don't!' the Hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously. +'I dare say you never even spoke to Time!' + +'Perhaps not,' Alice cautiously replied: 'but I know I have to beat time +when I learn music.' + +'Ah! that accounts for it,' said the Hatter. 'He won't stand beating. +Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he'd do almost anything +you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o'clock in +the morning, just time to begin lessons: you'd only have to whisper a +hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, +time for dinner!' + +('I only wish it was,' the March Hare said to itself in a whisper.) + +'That would be grand, certainly,' said Alice thoughtfully: 'but then--I +shouldn't be hungry for it, you know.' + +'Not at first, perhaps,' said the Hatter: 'but you could keep it to +half-past one as long as you liked.' + +'Is that the way YOU manage?' Alice asked. + +The Hatter shook his head mournfully. 'Not I!' he replied. 'We +quarrelled last March--just before HE went mad, you know--' (pointing +with his tea spoon at the March Hare,) '--it was at the great concert +given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing + + "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! + How I wonder what you're at!" + +You know the song, perhaps?' + +'I've heard something like it,' said Alice. + +'It goes on, you know,' the Hatter continued, 'in this way:-- + + "Up above the world you fly, + Like a tea-tray in the sky. + Twinkle, twinkle--"' + +Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep 'Twinkle, +twinkle, twinkle, twinkle--' and went on so long that they had to pinch +it to make it stop. + +'Well, I'd hardly finished the first verse,' said the Hatter, 'when the +Queen jumped up and bawled out, "He's murdering the time! Off with his +head!"' + +'How dreadfully savage!' exclaimed Alice. + +'And ever since that,' the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, 'he won't +do a thing I ask! It's always six o'clock now.' + +A bright idea came into Alice's head. 'Is that the reason so many +tea-things are put out here?' she asked. + +'Yes, that's it,' said the Hatter with a sigh: 'it's always tea-time, +and we've no time to wash the things between whiles.' + +'Then you keep moving round, I suppose?' said Alice. + +'Exactly so,' said the Hatter: 'as the things get used up.' + +'But what happens when you come to the beginning again?' Alice ventured +to ask. + +'Suppose we change the subject,' the March Hare interrupted, yawning. +'I'm getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story.' + +'I'm afraid I don't know one,' said Alice, rather alarmed at the +proposal. + +'Then the Dormouse shall!' they both cried. 'Wake up, Dormouse!' And +they pinched it on both sides at once. + +The Dormouse slowly opened his eyes. 'I wasn't asleep,' he said in a +hoarse, feeble voice: 'I heard every word you fellows were saying.' + +'Tell us a story!' said the March Hare. + +'Yes, please do!' pleaded Alice. + +'And be quick about it,' added the Hatter, 'or you'll be asleep again +before it's done.' + +'Once upon a time there were three little sisters,' the Dormouse began +in a great hurry; 'and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and +they lived at the bottom of a well--' + +'What did they live on?' said Alice, who always took a great interest in +questions of eating and drinking. + +'They lived on treacle,' said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or +two. + +'They couldn't have done that, you know,' Alice gently remarked; 'they'd +have been ill.' + +'So they were,' said the Dormouse; 'VERY ill.' + +Alice tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary ways of +living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: 'But +why did they live at the bottom of a well?' + +'Take some more tea,' the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly. + +'I've had nothing yet,' Alice replied in an offended tone, 'so I can't +take more.' + +'You mean you can't take LESS,' said the Hatter: 'it's very easy to take +MORE than nothing.' + +'Nobody asked YOUR opinion,' said Alice. + +'Who's making personal remarks now?' the Hatter asked triumphantly. + +Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself +to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and +repeated her question. 'Why did they live at the bottom of a well?' + +The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then +said, 'It was a treacle-well.' + +'There's no such thing!' Alice was beginning very angrily, but the +Hatter and the March Hare went 'Sh! sh!' and the Dormouse sulkily +remarked, 'If you can't be civil, you'd better finish the story for +yourself.' + +'No, please go on!' Alice said very humbly; 'I won't interrupt again. I +dare say there may be ONE.' + +'One, indeed!' said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he consented to +go on. 'And so these three little sisters--they were learning to draw, +you know--' + +'What did they draw?' said Alice, quite forgetting her promise. + +'Treacle,' said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time. + +'I want a clean cup,' interrupted the Hatter: 'let's all move one place +on.' + +He moved on as he spoke, and the Dormouse followed him: the March Hare +moved into the Dormouse's place, and Alice rather unwillingly took +the place of the March Hare. The Hatter was the only one who got any +advantage from the change: and Alice was a good deal worse off than +before, as the March Hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate. + +Alice did not wish to offend the Dormouse again, so she began very +cautiously: 'But I don't understand. Where did they draw the treacle +from?' + +'You can draw water out of a water-well,' said the Hatter; 'so I should +think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well--eh, stupid?' + +'But they were IN the well,' Alice said to the Dormouse, not choosing to +notice this last remark. + +'Of course they were', said the Dormouse; '--well in.' + +This answer so confused poor Alice, that she let the Dormouse go on for +some time without interrupting it. + +'They were learning to draw,' the Dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing +its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; 'and they drew all manner of +things--everything that begins with an M--' + +'Why with an M?' said Alice. + +'Why not?' said the March Hare. + +Alice was silent. + +The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into +a doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up again with +a little shriek, and went on: '--that begins with an M, such as +mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness--you know you say +things are "much of a muchness"--did you ever see such a thing as a +drawing of a muchness?' + +'Really, now you ask me,' said Alice, very much confused, 'I don't +think--' + +'Then you shouldn't talk,' said the Hatter. + +This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in +great disgust, and walked off; the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and +neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she +looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: +the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into +the teapot. + +'At any rate I'll never go THERE again!' said Alice as she picked her +way through the wood. 'It's the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all +my life!' + +Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door +leading right into it. 'That's very curious!' she thought. 'But +everything's curious today. I think I may as well go in at once.' And in +she went. + +Once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little +glass table. 'Now, I'll manage better this time,' she said to herself, +and began by taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that +led into the garden. Then she went to work nibbling at the mushroom (she +had kept a piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot high: +then she walked down the little passage: and THEN--she found herself at +last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool +fountains. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. The Queen's Croquet-Ground + +A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses +growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily +painting them red. Alice thought this a very curious thing, and she went +nearer to watch them, and just as she came up to them she heard one of +them say, 'Look out now, Five! Don't go splashing paint over me like +that!' + +'I couldn't help it,' said Five, in a sulky tone; 'Seven jogged my +elbow.' + +On which Seven looked up and said, 'That's right, Five! Always lay the +blame on others!' + +'YOU'D better not talk!' said Five. 'I heard the Queen say only +yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!' + +'What for?' said the one who had spoken first. + +'That's none of YOUR business, Two!' said Seven. + +'Yes, it IS his business!' said Five, 'and I'll tell him--it was for +bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.' + +Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun 'Well, of all the unjust +things--' when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching +them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round also, and +all of them bowed low. + +'Would you tell me,' said Alice, a little timidly, 'why you are painting +those roses?' + +Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low +voice, 'Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a +RED rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen +was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. +So you see, Miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes, to--' At this +moment Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called +out 'The Queen! The Queen!' and the three gardeners instantly threw +themselves flat upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, +and Alice looked round, eager to see the Queen. + +First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like +the three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the +corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with +diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. After these came +the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came +jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they were all ornamented +with hearts. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among +them Alice recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a hurried +nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without +noticing her. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King's +crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and, last of all this grand +procession, came THE KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS. + +Alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her face +like the three gardeners, but she could not remember ever having heard +of such a rule at processions; 'and besides, what would be the use of +a procession,' thought she, 'if people had all to lie down upon their +faces, so that they couldn't see it?' So she stood still where she was, +and waited. + +When the procession came opposite to Alice, they all stopped and looked +at her, and the Queen said severely 'Who is this?' She said it to the +Knave of Hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply. + +'Idiot!' said the Queen, tossing her head impatiently; and, turning to +Alice, she went on, 'What's your name, child?' + +'My name is Alice, so please your Majesty,' said Alice very politely; +but she added, to herself, 'Why, they're only a pack of cards, after +all. I needn't be afraid of them!' + +'And who are THESE?' said the Queen, pointing to the three gardeners who +were lying round the rosetree; for, you see, as they were lying on their +faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the rest of the +pack, she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or +courtiers, or three of her own children. + +'How should I know?' said Alice, surprised at her own courage. 'It's no +business of MINE.' + +The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a +moment like a wild beast, screamed 'Off with her head! Off--' + +'Nonsense!' said Alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the Queen was +silent. + +The King laid his hand upon her arm, and timidly said 'Consider, my +dear: she is only a child!' + +The Queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the Knave 'Turn them +over!' + +The Knave did so, very carefully, with one foot. + +'Get up!' said the Queen, in a shrill, loud voice, and the three +gardeners instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the King, the Queen, +the royal children, and everybody else. + +'Leave off that!' screamed the Queen. 'You make me giddy.' And then, +turning to the rose-tree, she went on, 'What HAVE you been doing here?' + +'May it please your Majesty,' said Two, in a very humble tone, going +down on one knee as he spoke, 'we were trying--' + +'I see!' said the Queen, who had meanwhile been examining the roses. +'Off with their heads!' and the procession moved on, three of the +soldiers remaining behind to execute the unfortunate gardeners, who ran +to Alice for protection. + +'You shan't be beheaded!' said Alice, and she put them into a large +flower-pot that stood near. The three soldiers wandered about for a +minute or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the +others. + +'Are their heads off?' shouted the Queen. + +'Their heads are gone, if it please your Majesty!' the soldiers shouted +in reply. + +'That's right!' shouted the Queen. 'Can you play croquet?' + +The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question was +evidently meant for her. + +'Yes!' shouted Alice. + +'Come on, then!' roared the Queen, and Alice joined the procession, +wondering very much what would happen next. + +'It's--it's a very fine day!' said a timid voice at her side. She was +walking by the White Rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face. + +'Very,' said Alice: '--where's the Duchess?' + +'Hush! Hush!' said the Rabbit in a low, hurried tone. He looked +anxiously over his shoulder as he spoke, and then raised himself upon +tiptoe, put his mouth close to her ear, and whispered 'She's under +sentence of execution.' + +'What for?' said Alice. + +'Did you say "What a pity!"?' the Rabbit asked. + +'No, I didn't,' said Alice: 'I don't think it's at all a pity. I said +"What for?"' + +'She boxed the Queen's ears--' the Rabbit began. Alice gave a little +scream of laughter. 'Oh, hush!' the Rabbit whispered in a frightened +tone. 'The Queen will hear you! You see, she came rather late, and the +Queen said--' + +'Get to your places!' shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and +people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each +other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game +began. Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in +her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, +the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves +up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches. + +The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: +she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under +her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got +its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a +blow with its head, it WOULD twist itself round and look up in her face, +with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out +laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin +again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had unrolled +itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, there was +generally a ridge or furrow in the way wherever she wanted to send the +hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up +and walking off to other parts of the ground, Alice soon came to the +conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed. + +The players all played at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling +all the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short +time the Queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about, and +shouting 'Off with his head!' or 'Off with her head!' about once in a +minute. + +Alice began to feel very uneasy: to be sure, she had not as yet had any +dispute with the Queen, but she knew that it might happen any minute, +'and then,' thought she, 'what would become of me? They're dreadfully +fond of beheading people here; the great wonder is, that there's any one +left alive!' + +She was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether she +could get away without being seen, when she noticed a curious appearance +in the air: it puzzled her very much at first, but, after watching it +a minute or two, she made it out to be a grin, and she said to herself +'It's the Cheshire Cat: now I shall have somebody to talk to.' + +'How are you getting on?' said the Cat, as soon as there was mouth +enough for it to speak with. + +Alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded. 'It's no use +speaking to it,' she thought, 'till its ears have come, or at least one +of them.' In another minute the whole head appeared, and then Alice put +down her flamingo, and began an account of the game, feeling very glad +she had someone to listen to her. The Cat seemed to think that there was +enough of it now in sight, and no more of it appeared. + +'I don't think they play at all fairly,' Alice began, in rather a +complaining tone, 'and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can't hear +oneself speak--and they don't seem to have any rules in particular; +at least, if there are, nobody attends to them--and you've no idea how +confusing it is all the things being alive; for instance, there's the +arch I've got to go through next walking about at the other end of the +ground--and I should have croqueted the Queen's hedgehog just now, only +it ran away when it saw mine coming!' + +'How do you like the Queen?' said the Cat in a low voice. + +'Not at all,' said Alice: 'she's so extremely--' Just then she noticed +that the Queen was close behind her, listening: so she went on, +'--likely to win, that it's hardly worth while finishing the game.' + +The Queen smiled and passed on. + +'Who ARE you talking to?' said the King, going up to Alice, and looking +at the Cat's head with great curiosity. + +'It's a friend of mine--a Cheshire Cat,' said Alice: 'allow me to +introduce it.' + +'I don't like the look of it at all,' said the King: 'however, it may +kiss my hand if it likes.' + +'I'd rather not,' the Cat remarked. + +'Don't be impertinent,' said the King, 'and don't look at me like that!' +He got behind Alice as he spoke. + +'A cat may look at a king,' said Alice. 'I've read that in some book, +but I don't remember where.' + +'Well, it must be removed,' said the King very decidedly, and he called +the Queen, who was passing at the moment, 'My dear! I wish you would +have this cat removed!' + +The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. +'Off with his head!' she said, without even looking round. + +'I'll fetch the executioner myself,' said the King eagerly, and he +hurried off. + +Alice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game was going +on, as she heard the Queen's voice in the distance, screaming with +passion. She had already heard her sentence three of the players to be +executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look +of things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew +whether it was her turn or not. So she went in search of her hedgehog. + +The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed +to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the +other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the +other side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying in a helpless +sort of way to fly up into a tree. + +By the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the fight +was over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: 'but it doesn't +matter much,' thought Alice, 'as all the arches are gone from this side +of the ground.' So she tucked it away under her arm, that it might not +escape again, and went back for a little more conversation with her +friend. + +When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised to find quite a +large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between +the executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all talking at once, +while all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable. + +The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle +the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they +all spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly +what they said. + +The executioner's argument was, that you couldn't cut off a head unless +there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to do such a +thing before, and he wasn't going to begin at HIS time of life. + +The King's argument was, that anything that had a head could be +beheaded, and that you weren't to talk nonsense. + +The Queen's argument was, that if something wasn't done about it in less +than no time she'd have everybody executed, all round. (It was this last +remark that had made the whole party look so grave and anxious.) + +Alice could think of nothing else to say but 'It belongs to the Duchess: +you'd better ask HER about it.' + +'She's in prison,' the Queen said to the executioner: 'fetch her here.' +And the executioner went off like an arrow. + + The Cat's head began fading away the moment he was gone, and, +by the time he had come back with the Duchess, it had entirely +disappeared; so the King and the executioner ran wildly up and down +looking for it, while the rest of the party went back to the game. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. The Mock Turtle's Story + +'You can't think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old thing!' +said the Duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into Alice's, and +they walked off together. + +Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought +to herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so +savage when they met in the kitchen. + +'When I'M a Duchess,' she said to herself, (not in a very hopeful tone +though), 'I won't have any pepper in my kitchen AT ALL. Soup does very +well without--Maybe it's always pepper that makes people hot-tempered,' +she went on, very much pleased at having found out a new kind of +rule, 'and vinegar that makes them sour--and camomile that makes +them bitter--and--and barley-sugar and such things that make children +sweet-tempered. I only wish people knew that: then they wouldn't be so +stingy about it, you know--' + +She had quite forgotten the Duchess by this time, and was a little +startled when she heard her voice close to her ear. 'You're thinking +about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. I can't +tell you just now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it in +a bit.' + +'Perhaps it hasn't one,' Alice ventured to remark. + +'Tut, tut, child!' said the Duchess. 'Everything's got a moral, if only +you can find it.' And she squeezed herself up closer to Alice's side as +she spoke. + +Alice did not much like keeping so close to her: first, because the +Duchess was VERY ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the +right height to rest her chin upon Alice's shoulder, and it was an +uncomfortably sharp chin. However, she did not like to be rude, so she +bore it as well as she could. + +'The game's going on rather better now,' she said, by way of keeping up +the conversation a little. + +''Tis so,' said the Duchess: 'and the moral of that is--"Oh, 'tis love, +'tis love, that makes the world go round!"' + +'Somebody said,' Alice whispered, 'that it's done by everybody minding +their own business!' + +'Ah, well! It means much the same thing,' said the Duchess, digging her +sharp little chin into Alice's shoulder as she added, 'and the moral +of THAT is--"Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of +themselves."' + +'How fond she is of finding morals in things!' Alice thought to herself. + +'I dare say you're wondering why I don't put my arm round your waist,' +the Duchess said after a pause: 'the reason is, that I'm doubtful about +the temper of your flamingo. Shall I try the experiment?' + +'HE might bite,' Alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious to +have the experiment tried. + +'Very true,' said the Duchess: 'flamingoes and mustard both bite. And +the moral of that is--"Birds of a feather flock together."' + +'Only mustard isn't a bird,' Alice remarked. + +'Right, as usual,' said the Duchess: 'what a clear way you have of +putting things!' + +'It's a mineral, I THINK,' said Alice. + +'Of course it is,' said the Duchess, who seemed ready to agree to +everything that Alice said; 'there's a large mustard-mine near here. And +the moral of that is--"The more there is of mine, the less there is of +yours."' + +'Oh, I know!' exclaimed Alice, who had not attended to this last remark, +'it's a vegetable. It doesn't look like one, but it is.' + +'I quite agree with you,' said the Duchess; 'and the moral of that +is--"Be what you would seem to be"--or if you'd like it put more +simply--"Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might +appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise +than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise."' + +'I think I should understand that better,' Alice said very politely, 'if +I had it written down: but I can't quite follow it as you say it.' + +'That's nothing to what I could say if I chose,' the Duchess replied, in +a pleased tone. + +'Pray don't trouble yourself to say it any longer than that,' said +Alice. + +'Oh, don't talk about trouble!' said the Duchess. 'I make you a present +of everything I've said as yet.' + +'A cheap sort of present!' thought Alice. 'I'm glad they don't give +birthday presents like that!' But she did not venture to say it out +loud. + +'Thinking again?' the Duchess asked, with another dig of her sharp +little chin. + +'I've a right to think,' said Alice sharply, for she was beginning to +feel a little worried. + +'Just about as much right,' said the Duchess, 'as pigs have to fly; and +the m--' + +But here, to Alice's great surprise, the Duchess's voice died away, even +in the middle of her favourite word 'moral,' and the arm that was linked +into hers began to tremble. Alice looked up, and there stood the Queen +in front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm. + +'A fine day, your Majesty!' the Duchess began in a low, weak voice. + +'Now, I give you fair warning,' shouted the Queen, stamping on the +ground as she spoke; 'either you or your head must be off, and that in +about half no time! Take your choice!' + +The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment. + +'Let's go on with the game,' the Queen said to Alice; and Alice was +too much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the +croquet-ground. + +The other guests had taken advantage of the Queen's absence, and were +resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried +back to the game, the Queen merely remarking that a moment's delay would +cost them their lives. + +All the time they were playing the Queen never left off quarrelling with +the other players, and shouting 'Off with his head!' or 'Off with her +head!' Those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the soldiers, +who of course had to leave off being arches to do this, so that by +the end of half an hour or so there were no arches left, and all the +players, except the King, the Queen, and Alice, were in custody and +under sentence of execution. + +Then the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to Alice, 'Have +you seen the Mock Turtle yet?' + +'No,' said Alice. 'I don't even know what a Mock Turtle is.' + +'It's the thing Mock Turtle Soup is made from,' said the Queen. + +'I never saw one, or heard of one,' said Alice. + +'Come on, then,' said the Queen, 'and he shall tell you his history,' + +As they walked off together, Alice heard the King say in a low voice, +to the company generally, 'You are all pardoned.' 'Come, THAT'S a good +thing!' she said to herself, for she had felt quite unhappy at the +number of executions the Queen had ordered. + +They very soon came upon a Gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun. +(IF you don't know what a Gryphon is, look at the picture.) 'Up, lazy +thing!' said the Queen, 'and take this young lady to see the Mock +Turtle, and to hear his history. I must go back and see after some +executions I have ordered'; and she walked off, leaving Alice alone with +the Gryphon. Alice did not quite like the look of the creature, but on +the whole she thought it would be quite as safe to stay with it as to go +after that savage Queen: so she waited. + +The Gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the Queen till +she was out of sight: then it chuckled. 'What fun!' said the Gryphon, +half to itself, half to Alice. + +'What IS the fun?' said Alice. + +'Why, SHE,' said the Gryphon. 'It's all her fancy, that: they never +executes nobody, you know. Come on!' + +'Everybody says "come on!" here,' thought Alice, as she went slowly +after it: 'I never was so ordered about in all my life, never!' + +They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, +sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came +nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She +pitied him deeply. 'What is his sorrow?' she asked the Gryphon, and the +Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, 'It's all his +fancy, that: he hasn't got no sorrow, you know. Come on!' + +So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes +full of tears, but said nothing. + +'This here young lady,' said the Gryphon, 'she wants for to know your +history, she do.' + +'I'll tell it her,' said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow tone: 'sit +down, both of you, and don't speak a word till I've finished.' + +So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to +herself, 'I don't see how he can EVEN finish, if he doesn't begin.' But +she waited patiently. + +'Once,' said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, 'I was a real +Turtle.' + +These words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an +occasional exclamation of 'Hjckrrh!' from the Gryphon, and the constant +heavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly getting up and +saying, 'Thank you, sir, for your interesting story,' but she could +not help thinking there MUST be more to come, so she sat still and said +nothing. + +'When we were little,' the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly, +though still sobbing a little now and then, 'we went to school in the +sea. The master was an old Turtle--we used to call him Tortoise--' + +'Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn't one?' Alice asked. + +'We called him Tortoise because he taught us,' said the Mock Turtle +angrily: 'really you are very dull!' + +'You ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple question,' +added the Gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked at poor +Alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth. At last the Gryphon said +to the Mock Turtle, 'Drive on, old fellow! Don't be all day about it!' +and he went on in these words: + +'Yes, we went to school in the sea, though you mayn't believe it--' + +'I never said I didn't!' interrupted Alice. + +'You did,' said the Mock Turtle. + +'Hold your tongue!' added the Gryphon, before Alice could speak again. +The Mock Turtle went on. + +'We had the best of educations--in fact, we went to school every day--' + +'I'VE been to a day-school, too,' said Alice; 'you needn't be so proud +as all that.' + +'With extras?' asked the Mock Turtle a little anxiously. + +'Yes,' said Alice, 'we learned French and music.' + +'And washing?' said the Mock Turtle. + +'Certainly not!' said Alice indignantly. + +'Ah! then yours wasn't a really good school,' said the Mock Turtle in +a tone of great relief. 'Now at OURS they had at the end of the bill, +"French, music, AND WASHING--extra."' + +'You couldn't have wanted it much,' said Alice; 'living at the bottom of +the sea.' + +'I couldn't afford to learn it.' said the Mock Turtle with a sigh. 'I +only took the regular course.' + +'What was that?' inquired Alice. + +'Reeling and Writhing, of course, to begin with,' the Mock Turtle +replied; 'and then the different branches of Arithmetic--Ambition, +Distraction, Uglification, and Derision.' + +'I never heard of "Uglification,"' Alice ventured to say. 'What is it?' + +The Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. 'What! Never heard of +uglifying!' it exclaimed. 'You know what to beautify is, I suppose?' + +'Yes,' said Alice doubtfully: 'it means--to--make--anything--prettier.' + +'Well, then,' the Gryphon went on, 'if you don't know what to uglify is, +you ARE a simpleton.' + +Alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she +turned to the Mock Turtle, and said 'What else had you to learn?' + +'Well, there was Mystery,' the Mock Turtle replied, counting off +the subjects on his flappers, '--Mystery, ancient and modern, with +Seaography: then Drawling--the Drawling-master was an old conger-eel, +that used to come once a week: HE taught us Drawling, Stretching, and +Fainting in Coils.' + +'What was THAT like?' said Alice. + +'Well, I can't show it you myself,' the Mock Turtle said: 'I'm too +stiff. And the Gryphon never learnt it.' + +'Hadn't time,' said the Gryphon: 'I went to the Classics master, though. +He was an old crab, HE was.' + +'I never went to him,' the Mock Turtle said with a sigh: 'he taught +Laughing and Grief, they used to say.' + +'So he did, so he did,' said the Gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both +creatures hid their faces in their paws. + +'And how many hours a day did you do lessons?' said Alice, in a hurry to +change the subject. + +'Ten hours the first day,' said the Mock Turtle: 'nine the next, and so +on.' + +'What a curious plan!' exclaimed Alice. + +'That's the reason they're called lessons,' the Gryphon remarked: +'because they lessen from day to day.' + +This was quite a new idea to Alice, and she thought it over a little +before she made her next remark. 'Then the eleventh day must have been a +holiday?' + +'Of course it was,' said the Mock Turtle. + +'And how did you manage on the twelfth?' Alice went on eagerly. + +'That's enough about lessons,' the Gryphon interrupted in a very decided +tone: 'tell her something about the games now.' + + + + +CHAPTER X. The Lobster Quadrille + +The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across +his eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or +two sobs choked his voice. 'Same as if he had a bone in his throat,' +said the Gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him in +the back. At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears +running down his cheeks, he went on again:-- + +'You may not have lived much under the sea--' ('I haven't,' said +Alice)--'and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster--' +(Alice began to say 'I once tasted--' but checked herself hastily, and +said 'No, never') '--so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a +Lobster Quadrille is!' + +'No, indeed,' said Alice. 'What sort of a dance is it?' + +'Why,' said the Gryphon, 'you first form into a line along the +sea-shore--' + +'Two lines!' cried the Mock Turtle. 'Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on; +then, when you've cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way--' + +'THAT generally takes some time,' interrupted the Gryphon. + +'--you advance twice--' + +'Each with a lobster as a partner!' cried the Gryphon. + +'Of course,' the Mock Turtle said: 'advance twice, set to partners--' + +'--change lobsters, and retire in same order,' continued the Gryphon. + +'Then, you know,' the Mock Turtle went on, 'you throw the--' + +'The lobsters!' shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air. + +'--as far out to sea as you can--' + +'Swim after them!' screamed the Gryphon. + +'Turn a somersault in the sea!' cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly +about. + +'Change lobsters again!' yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice. + +'Back to land again, and that's all the first figure,' said the Mock +Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had been +jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly +and quietly, and looked at Alice. + +'It must be a very pretty dance,' said Alice timidly. + +'Would you like to see a little of it?' said the Mock Turtle. + +'Very much indeed,' said Alice. + +'Come, let's try the first figure!' said the Mock Turtle to the Gryphon. +'We can do without lobsters, you know. Which shall sing?' + +'Oh, YOU sing,' said the Gryphon. 'I've forgotten the words.' + +So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and +then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their +forepaws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly +and sadly:-- + + '"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail. + "There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail. + + See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! + They are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance? + + Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? + Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance? + + "You can really have no notion how delightful it will be + When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!" + But the snail replied "Too far, too far!" and gave a look askance-- + Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. + + Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance. + Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance. + + '"What matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend replied. + "There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. + The further off from England the nearer is to France-- + Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance. + + Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? + Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?"' + +'Thank you, it's a very interesting dance to watch,' said Alice, feeling +very glad that it was over at last: 'and I do so like that curious song +about the whiting!' + +'Oh, as to the whiting,' said the Mock Turtle, 'they--you've seen them, +of course?' + +'Yes,' said Alice, 'I've often seen them at dinn--' she checked herself +hastily. + +'I don't know where Dinn may be,' said the Mock Turtle, 'but if you've +seen them so often, of course you know what they're like.' + +'I believe so,' Alice replied thoughtfully. 'They have their tails in +their mouths--and they're all over crumbs.' + +'You're wrong about the crumbs,' said the Mock Turtle: 'crumbs would all +wash off in the sea. But they HAVE their tails in their mouths; and the +reason is--' here the Mock Turtle yawned and shut his eyes.--'Tell her +about the reason and all that,' he said to the Gryphon. + +'The reason is,' said the Gryphon, 'that they WOULD go with the lobsters +to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long +way. So they got their tails fast in their mouths. So they couldn't get +them out again. That's all.' + +'Thank you,' said Alice, 'it's very interesting. I never knew so much +about a whiting before.' + +'I can tell you more than that, if you like,' said the Gryphon. 'Do you +know why it's called a whiting?' + +'I never thought about it,' said Alice. 'Why?' + +'IT DOES THE BOOTS AND SHOES.' the Gryphon replied very solemnly. + +Alice was thoroughly puzzled. 'Does the boots and shoes!' she repeated +in a wondering tone. + +'Why, what are YOUR shoes done with?' said the Gryphon. 'I mean, what +makes them so shiny?' + +Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her +answer. 'They're done with blacking, I believe.' + +'Boots and shoes under the sea,' the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, +'are done with a whiting. Now you know.' + +'And what are they made of?' Alice asked in a tone of great curiosity. + +'Soles and eels, of course,' the Gryphon replied rather impatiently: +'any shrimp could have told you that.' + +'If I'd been the whiting,' said Alice, whose thoughts were still running +on the song, 'I'd have said to the porpoise, "Keep back, please: we +don't want YOU with us!"' + +'They were obliged to have him with them,' the Mock Turtle said: 'no +wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.' + +'Wouldn't it really?' said Alice in a tone of great surprise. + +'Of course not,' said the Mock Turtle: 'why, if a fish came to ME, and +told me he was going a journey, I should say "With what porpoise?"' + +'Don't you mean "purpose"?' said Alice. + +'I mean what I say,' the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone. And +the Gryphon added 'Come, let's hear some of YOUR adventures.' + +'I could tell you my adventures--beginning from this morning,' said +Alice a little timidly: 'but it's no use going back to yesterday, +because I was a different person then.' + +'Explain all that,' said the Mock Turtle. + +'No, no! The adventures first,' said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: +'explanations take such a dreadful time.' + +So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first +saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it just at first, +the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened +their eyes and mouths so VERY wide, but she gained courage as she went +on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about +her repeating 'YOU ARE OLD, FATHER WILLIAM,' to the Caterpillar, and the +words all coming different, and then the Mock Turtle drew a long breath, +and said 'That's very curious.' + +'It's all about as curious as it can be,' said the Gryphon. + +'It all came different!' the Mock Turtle repeated thoughtfully. 'I +should like to hear her try and repeat something now. Tell her to +begin.' He looked at the Gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of +authority over Alice. + +'Stand up and repeat "'TIS THE VOICE OF THE SLUGGARD,"' said the +Gryphon. + +'How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!' +thought Alice; 'I might as well be at school at once.' However, she +got up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster +Quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came +very queer indeed:-- + + ''Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare, + "You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair." + As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose + Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.' + + [later editions continued as follows + When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, + And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark, + But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, + His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.] + +'That's different from what I used to say when I was a child,' said the +Gryphon. + +'Well, I never heard it before,' said the Mock Turtle; 'but it sounds +uncommon nonsense.' + +Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, +wondering if anything would EVER happen in a natural way again. + +'I should like to have it explained,' said the Mock Turtle. + +'She can't explain it,' said the Gryphon hastily. 'Go on with the next +verse.' + +'But about his toes?' the Mock Turtle persisted. 'How COULD he turn them +out with his nose, you know?' + +'It's the first position in dancing.' Alice said; but was dreadfully +puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject. + +'Go on with the next verse,' the Gryphon repeated impatiently: 'it +begins "I passed by his garden."' + +Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come +wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:-- + + 'I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, + How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie--' + + [later editions continued as follows + The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, + While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat. + When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, + Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: + While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, + And concluded the banquet--] + +'What IS the use of repeating all that stuff,' the Mock Turtle +interrupted, 'if you don't explain it as you go on? It's by far the most +confusing thing I ever heard!' + +'Yes, I think you'd better leave off,' said the Gryphon: and Alice was +only too glad to do so. + +'Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?' the Gryphon went +on. 'Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you a song?' + +'Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,' Alice +replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, +'Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her "Turtle Soup," will you, old +fellow?' + +The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked +with sobs, to sing this:-- + + 'Beautiful Soup, so rich and green, + Waiting in a hot tureen! + Who for such dainties would not stoop? + Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! + Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! + Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! + Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! + Soo--oop of the e--e--evening, + Beautiful, beautiful Soup! + + 'Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish, + Game, or any other dish? + Who would not give all else for two + Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? + Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? + Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! + Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! + Soo--oop of the e--e--evening, + Beautiful, beauti--FUL SOUP!' + +'Chorus again!' cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had just begun +to repeat it, when a cry of 'The trial's beginning!' was heard in the +distance. + +'Come on!' cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand, it hurried +off, without waiting for the end of the song. + +'What trial is it?' Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon only +answered 'Come on!' and ran the faster, while more and more faintly +came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:-- + + 'Soo--oop of the e--e--evening, + Beautiful, beautiful Soup!' + + + + +CHAPTER XI. Who Stole the Tarts? + +The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they +arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them--all sorts of little +birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was +standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard +him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, +and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court +was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, +that it made Alice quite hungry to look at them--'I wish they'd get the +trial done,' she thought, 'and hand round the refreshments!' But there +seemed to be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything about +her, to pass away the time. + +Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read +about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew +the name of nearly everything there. 'That's the judge,' she said to +herself, 'because of his great wig.' + +The judge, by the way, was the King; and as he wore his crown over the +wig, (look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he did it,) he did +not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming. + +'And that's the jury-box,' thought Alice, 'and those twelve creatures,' +(she was obliged to say 'creatures,' you see, because some of them were +animals, and some were birds,) 'I suppose they are the jurors.' She said +this last word two or three times over to herself, being rather proud of +it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very few little girls of her +age knew the meaning of it at all. However, 'jury-men' would have done +just as well. + +The twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates. 'What are they +doing?' Alice whispered to the Gryphon. 'They can't have anything to put +down yet, before the trial's begun.' + +'They're putting down their names,' the Gryphon whispered in reply, 'for +fear they should forget them before the end of the trial.' + +'Stupid things!' Alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she stopped +hastily, for the White Rabbit cried out, 'Silence in the court!' and the +King put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to make out who +was talking. + +Alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, +that all the jurors were writing down 'stupid things!' on their slates, +and she could even make out that one of them didn't know how to spell +'stupid,' and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him. 'A nice +muddle their slates'll be in before the trial's over!' thought Alice. + +One of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked. This of course, Alice +could not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and +very soon found an opportunity of taking it away. She did it so quickly +that the poor little juror (it was Bill, the Lizard) could not make out +at all what had become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he was +obliged to write with one finger for the rest of the day; and this was +of very little use, as it left no mark on the slate. + +'Herald, read the accusation!' said the King. + +On this the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then +unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows:-- + + 'The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, + All on a summer day: + The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, + And took them quite away!' + +'Consider your verdict,' the King said to the jury. + +'Not yet, not yet!' the Rabbit hastily interrupted. 'There's a great +deal to come before that!' + +'Call the first witness,' said the King; and the White Rabbit blew three +blasts on the trumpet, and called out, 'First witness!' + +The first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one +hand and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other. 'I beg pardon, your +Majesty,' he began, 'for bringing these in: but I hadn't quite finished +my tea when I was sent for.' + +'You ought to have finished,' said the King. 'When did you begin?' + +The Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the +court, arm-in-arm with the Dormouse. 'Fourteenth of March, I think it +was,' he said. + +'Fifteenth,' said the March Hare. + +'Sixteenth,' added the Dormouse. + +'Write that down,' the King said to the jury, and the jury eagerly +wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and +reduced the answer to shillings and pence. + +'Take off your hat,' the King said to the Hatter. + +'It isn't mine,' said the Hatter. + +'Stolen!' the King exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly made a +memorandum of the fact. + +'I keep them to sell,' the Hatter added as an explanation; 'I've none of +my own. I'm a hatter.' + +Here the Queen put on her spectacles, and began staring at the Hatter, +who turned pale and fidgeted. + +'Give your evidence,' said the King; 'and don't be nervous, or I'll have +you executed on the spot.' + +This did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting +from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and in +his confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the +bread-and-butter. + +Just at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled +her a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to +grow larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave +the court; but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was as +long as there was room for her. + +'I wish you wouldn't squeeze so.' said the Dormouse, who was sitting +next to her. 'I can hardly breathe.' + +'I can't help it,' said Alice very meekly: 'I'm growing.' + +'You've no right to grow here,' said the Dormouse. + +'Don't talk nonsense,' said Alice more boldly: 'you know you're growing +too.' + +'Yes, but I grow at a reasonable pace,' said the Dormouse: 'not in that +ridiculous fashion.' And he got up very sulkily and crossed over to the +other side of the court. + +All this time the Queen had never left off staring at the Hatter, and, +just as the Dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers +of the court, 'Bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!' on +which the wretched Hatter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes off. + +'Give your evidence,' the King repeated angrily, 'or I'll have you +executed, whether you're nervous or not.' + +'I'm a poor man, your Majesty,' the Hatter began, in a trembling voice, +'--and I hadn't begun my tea--not above a week or so--and what with the +bread-and-butter getting so thin--and the twinkling of the tea--' + +'The twinkling of the what?' said the King. + +'It began with the tea,' the Hatter replied. + +'Of course twinkling begins with a T!' said the King sharply. 'Do you +take me for a dunce? Go on!' + +'I'm a poor man,' the Hatter went on, 'and most things twinkled after +that--only the March Hare said--' + +'I didn't!' the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry. + +'You did!' said the Hatter. + +'I deny it!' said the March Hare. + +'He denies it,' said the King: 'leave out that part.' + +'Well, at any rate, the Dormouse said--' the Hatter went on, looking +anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the Dormouse denied +nothing, being fast asleep. + +'After that,' continued the Hatter, 'I cut some more bread-and-butter--' + +'But what did the Dormouse say?' one of the jury asked. + +'That I can't remember,' said the Hatter. + +'You MUST remember,' remarked the King, 'or I'll have you executed.' + +The miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went +down on one knee. 'I'm a poor man, your Majesty,' he began. + +'You're a very poor speaker,' said the King. + +Here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by +the officers of the court. (As that is rather a hard word, I will just +explain to you how it was done. They had a large canvas bag, which tied +up at the mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig, +head first, and then sat upon it.) + +'I'm glad I've seen that done,' thought Alice. 'I've so often read +in the newspapers, at the end of trials, "There was some attempts +at applause, which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the +court," and I never understood what it meant till now.' + +'If that's all you know about it, you may stand down,' continued the +King. + +'I can't go no lower,' said the Hatter: 'I'm on the floor, as it is.' + +'Then you may SIT down,' the King replied. + +Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed. + +'Come, that finished the guinea-pigs!' thought Alice. 'Now we shall get +on better.' + +'I'd rather finish my tea,' said the Hatter, with an anxious look at the +Queen, who was reading the list of singers. + +'You may go,' said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the court, +without even waiting to put his shoes on. + +'--and just take his head off outside,' the Queen added to one of the +officers: but the Hatter was out of sight before the officer could get +to the door. + +'Call the next witness!' said the King. + +The next witness was the Duchess's cook. She carried the pepper-box in +her hand, and Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the +court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once. + +'Give your evidence,' said the King. + +'Shan't,' said the cook. + +The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said in a low voice, +'Your Majesty must cross-examine THIS witness.' + +'Well, if I must, I must,' the King said, with a melancholy air, and, +after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were +nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, 'What are tarts made of?' + +'Pepper, mostly,' said the cook. + +'Treacle,' said a sleepy voice behind her. + +'Collar that Dormouse,' the Queen shrieked out. 'Behead that Dormouse! +Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his +whiskers!' + +For some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the Dormouse +turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had +disappeared. + +'Never mind!' said the King, with an air of great relief. 'Call the next +witness.' And he added in an undertone to the Queen, 'Really, my dear, +YOU must cross-examine the next witness. It quite makes my forehead +ache!' + +Alice watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling very +curious to see what the next witness would be like, '--for they haven't +got much evidence YET,' she said to herself. Imagine her surprise, when +the White Rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill little voice, the +name 'Alice!' + + + + CHAPTER XII + + Alice's Evidence + + +'Here!' cried Alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how +large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such +a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, +upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there +they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of goldfish +she had accidentally upset the week before. + +'Oh, I BEG your pardon!' she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay, and +began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for the accident of +the goldfish kept running in her head, and she had a vague sort of idea +that they must be collected at once and put back into the jury-box, or +they would die. + +'The trial cannot proceed,' said the King in a very grave voice, 'until +all the jurymen are back in their proper places--ALL,' he repeated with +great emphasis, looking hard at Alice as he said do. + +Alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put +the Lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its +tail about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. She soon got +it out again, and put it right; 'not that it signifies much,' she said +to herself; 'I should think it would be QUITE as much use in the trial +one way up as the other.' + +As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being +upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to +them, they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the +accident, all except the Lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do +anything but sit with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the +court. + +'What do you know about this business?' the King said to Alice. + +'Nothing,' said Alice. + +'Nothing WHATEVER?' persisted the King. + +'Nothing whatever,' said Alice. + +'That's very important,' the King said, turning to the jury. They were +just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit +interrupted: 'UNimportant, your Majesty means, of course,' he said in a +very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke. + +'UNimportant, of course, I meant,' the King hastily said, and went on +to himself in an undertone, + +'important--unimportant--unimportant--important--' as if he were trying +which word sounded best. + +Some of the jury wrote it down 'important,' and some 'unimportant.' +Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; +'but it doesn't matter a bit,' she thought to herself. + +At this moment the King, who had been for some time busily writing in +his note-book, cackled out 'Silence!' and read out from his book, 'Rule +Forty-two. ALL PERSONS MORE THAN A MILE HIGH TO LEAVE THE COURT.' + +Everybody looked at Alice. + +'I'M not a mile high,' said Alice. + +'You are,' said the King. + +'Nearly two miles high,' added the Queen. + +'Well, I shan't go, at any rate,' said Alice: 'besides, that's not a +regular rule: you invented it just now.' + +'It's the oldest rule in the book,' said the King. + +'Then it ought to be Number One,' said Alice. + +The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. 'Consider your +verdict,' he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice. + +'There's more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty,' said the White +Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; 'this paper has just been picked +up.' + +'What's in it?' said the Queen. + +'I haven't opened it yet,' said the White Rabbit, 'but it seems to be a +letter, written by the prisoner to--to somebody.' + +'It must have been that,' said the King, 'unless it was written to +nobody, which isn't usual, you know.' + +'Who is it directed to?' said one of the jurymen. + +'It isn't directed at all,' said the White Rabbit; 'in fact, there's +nothing written on the OUTSIDE.' He unfolded the paper as he spoke, and +added 'It isn't a letter, after all: it's a set of verses.' + +'Are they in the prisoner's handwriting?' asked another of the jurymen. + +'No, they're not,' said the White Rabbit, 'and that's the queerest thing +about it.' (The jury all looked puzzled.) + +'He must have imitated somebody else's hand,' said the King. (The jury +all brightened up again.) + +'Please your Majesty,' said the Knave, 'I didn't write it, and they +can't prove I did: there's no name signed at the end.' + +'If you didn't sign it,' said the King, 'that only makes the matter +worse. You MUST have meant some mischief, or else you'd have signed your +name like an honest man.' + +There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really +clever thing the King had said that day. + +'That PROVES his guilt,' said the Queen. + +'It proves nothing of the sort!' said Alice. 'Why, you don't even know +what they're about!' + +'Read them,' said the King. + +The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. 'Where shall I begin, please +your Majesty?' he asked. + +'Begin at the beginning,' the King said gravely, 'and go on till you +come to the end: then stop.' + +These were the verses the White Rabbit read:-- + + 'They told me you had been to her, + And mentioned me to him: + She gave me a good character, + But said I could not swim. + + He sent them word I had not gone + (We know it to be true): + If she should push the matter on, + What would become of you? + + I gave her one, they gave him two, + You gave us three or more; + They all returned from him to you, + Though they were mine before. + + If I or she should chance to be + Involved in this affair, + He trusts to you to set them free, + Exactly as we were. + + My notion was that you had been + (Before she had this fit) + An obstacle that came between + Him, and ourselves, and it. + + Don't let him know she liked them best, + For this must ever be + A secret, kept from all the rest, + Between yourself and me.' + +'That's the most important piece of evidence we've heard yet,' said the +King, rubbing his hands; 'so now let the jury--' + +'If any one of them can explain it,' said Alice, (she had grown so large +in the last few minutes that she wasn't a bit afraid of interrupting +him,) 'I'll give him sixpence. _I_ don't believe there's an atom of +meaning in it.' + +The jury all wrote down on their slates, 'SHE doesn't believe there's an +atom of meaning in it,' but none of them attempted to explain the paper. + +'If there's no meaning in it,' said the King, 'that saves a world of +trouble, you know, as we needn't try to find any. And yet I don't know,' +he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at them +with one eye; 'I seem to see some meaning in them, after all. "--SAID +I COULD NOT SWIM--" you can't swim, can you?' he added, turning to the +Knave. + +The Knave shook his head sadly. 'Do I look like it?' he said. (Which he +certainly did NOT, being made entirely of cardboard.) + +'All right, so far,' said the King, and he went on muttering over +the verses to himself: '"WE KNOW IT TO BE TRUE--" that's the jury, of +course--"I GAVE HER ONE, THEY GAVE HIM TWO--" why, that must be what he +did with the tarts, you know--' + +'But, it goes on "THEY ALL RETURNED FROM HIM TO YOU,"' said Alice. + +'Why, there they are!' said the King triumphantly, pointing to the tarts +on the table. 'Nothing can be clearer than THAT. Then again--"BEFORE SHE +HAD THIS FIT--" you never had fits, my dear, I think?' he said to the +Queen. + +'Never!' said the Queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the Lizard +as she spoke. (The unfortunate little Bill had left off writing on his +slate with one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily +began again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as +it lasted.) + +'Then the words don't FIT you,' said the King, looking round the court +with a smile. There was a dead silence. + +'It's a pun!' the King added in an offended tone, and everybody laughed, +'Let the jury consider their verdict,' the King said, for about the +twentieth time that day. + +'No, no!' said the Queen. 'Sentence first--verdict afterwards.' + +'Stuff and nonsense!' said Alice loudly. 'The idea of having the +sentence first!' + +'Hold your tongue!' said the Queen, turning purple. + +'I won't!' said Alice. + +'Off with her head!' the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody +moved. + +'Who cares for you?' said Alice, (she had grown to her full size by this +time.) 'You're nothing but a pack of cards!' + +At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon +her: she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and +tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her +head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead +leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. + +'Wake up, Alice dear!' said her sister; 'Why, what a long sleep you've +had!' + +'Oh, I've had such a curious dream!' said Alice, and she told her +sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures +of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had +finished, her sister kissed her, and said, 'It WAS a curious dream, +dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it's getting late.' So +Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, +what a wonderful dream it had been. + +But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her +hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her +wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and +this was her dream:-- + +First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny +hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking +up into hers--she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that +queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that +WOULD always get into her eyes--and still as she listened, or seemed to +listen, the whole place around her became alive the strange creatures of +her little sister's dream. + +The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by--the +frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool--she +could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends +shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen +ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution--once more the pig-baby +was sneezing on the Duchess's knee, while plates and dishes crashed +around it--once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the +Lizard's slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, +filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock +Turtle. + +So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in +Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all +would change to dull reality--the grass would be only rustling in the +wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds--the rattling +teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen's shrill +cries to the voice of the shepherd boy--and the sneeze of the baby, the +shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she +knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard--while the lowing +of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle's +heavy sobs. + +Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers +would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would +keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her +childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and +make THEIR eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even +with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with +all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, +remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days. + + THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND *** + +***** This file should be named 11.txt or 11.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/11/ + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/cat.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/cat.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a669af5 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/cat.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +A cat is not a caterpillar. diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/constitution.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/constitution.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b5ffaa --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/constitution.txt @@ -0,0 +1,872 @@ +Provided by USConstitution.net +------------------------------ + +[Note: Repealed text is not noted in this version. Spelling errors have been +corrected in this version. For an uncorrected, annotated version of the +Constitution, visit http://www.usconstitution.net/const.html ] + +We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, +establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common +defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to +ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the +United States of America. + +Article 1. + +Section 1 +All legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the +United States, which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives. + +Section 2 +The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members chosen every second +Year by the People of the several States, and the Electors in each State shall +have the Qualifications requisite for Electors of the most numerous Branch of +the State Legislature. + +No Person shall be a Representative who shall not have attained to the Age of +twenty five Years, and been seven Years a Citizen of the United States, and who +shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State in which he shall be +chosen. + +Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several States +which may be included within this Union, according to their respective Numbers, +which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of free Persons, +including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not +taxed, three fifths of all other Persons. + +The actual Enumeration shall be made within three Years after the first Meeting +of the Congress of the United States, and within every subsequent Term of ten +Years, in such Manner as they shall by Law direct. The Number of +Representatives shall not exceed one for every thirty Thousand, but each State +shall have at Least one Representative; and until such enumeration shall be +made, the State of New Hampshire shall be entitled to choose three, +Massachusetts eight, Rhode Island and Providence Plantations one, Connecticut +five, New York six, New Jersey four, Pennsylvania eight, Delaware one, Maryland +six, Virginia ten, North Carolina five, South Carolina five and Georgia three. + +When vacancies happen in the Representation from any State, the Executive +Authority thereof shall issue Writs of Election to fill such Vacancies. + +The House of Representatives shall choose their Speaker and other Officers; and +shall have the sole Power of Impeachment. + +Section 3 +The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each +State, chosen by the Legislature thereof, for six Years; and each Senator shall +have one Vote. + +Immediately after they shall be assembled in Consequence of the first Election, +they shall be divided as equally as may be into three Classes. The Seats of the +Senators of the first Class shall be vacated at the Expiration of the second +Year, of the second Class at the Expiration of the fourth Year, and of the +third Class at the Expiration of the sixth Year, so that one third may be +chosen every second Year; and if Vacancies happen by Resignation, or otherwise, +during the Recess of the Legislature of any State, the Executive thereof may +make temporary Appointments until the next Meeting of the Legislature, which +shall then fill such Vacancies. + +No person shall be a Senator who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty +Years, and been nine Years a Citizen of the United States, and who shall not, +when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State for which he shall be chosen. + +The Vice President of the United States shall be President of the Senate, but +shall have no Vote, unless they be equally divided. + +The Senate shall choose their other Officers, and also a President pro tempore, +in the absence of the Vice President, or when he shall exercise the Office of +President of the United States. + +The Senate shall have the sole Power to try all Impeachments. When sitting for +that Purpose, they shall be on Oath or Affirmation. When the President of the +United States is tried, the Chief Justice shall preside: And no Person shall be +convicted without the Concurrence of two thirds of the Members present. + +Judgment in Cases of Impeachment shall not extend further than to removal from +Office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any Office of honor, Trust or +Profit under the United States: but the Party convicted shall nevertheless be +liable and subject to Indictment, Trial, Judgment and Punishment, according to +Law. + +Section 4 +The Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and +Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof; +but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Regulations, except +as to the Place of Choosing Senators. + +The Congress shall assemble at least once in every Year, and such Meeting shall +be on the first Monday in December, unless they shall by Law appoint a +different Day. + +Section 5 +Each House shall be the Judge of the Elections, Returns and Qualifications of +its own Members, and a Majority of each shall constitute a Quorum to do +Business; but a smaller number may adjourn from day to day, and may be +authorized to compel the Attendance of absent Members, in such Manner, and +under such Penalties as each House may provide. + +Each House may determine the Rules of its Proceedings, punish its Members for +disorderly Behavior, and, with the Concurrence of two-thirds, expel a Member. + +Each House shall keep a Journal of its Proceedings, and from time to time +publish the same, excepting such Parts as may in their Judgment require +Secrecy; and the Yeas and Nays of the Members of either House on any question +shall, at the Desire of one fifth of those Present, be entered on the Journal. + +Neither House, during the Session of Congress, shall, without the Consent of +the other, adjourn for more than three days, nor to any other Place than that +in which the two Houses shall be sitting. + +Section 6 +The Senators and Representatives shall receive a Compensation for their +Services, to be ascertained by Law, and paid out of the Treasury of the United +States. They shall in all Cases, except Treason, Felony and Breach of the +Peace, be privileged from Arrest during their Attendance at the Session of +their respective Houses, and in going to and returning from the same; and for +any Speech or Debate in either House, they shall not be questioned in any other +Place. + +No Senator or Representative shall, during the Time for which he was elected, +be appointed to any civil Office under the Authority of the United States which +shall have been created, or the Emoluments whereof shall have been increased +during such time; and no Person holding any Office under the United States, +shall be a Member of either House during his Continuance in Office. + + +Section 7 +All bills for raising Revenue shall originate in the House of Representatives; +but the Senate may propose or concur with Amendments as on other Bills. + +Every Bill which shall have passed the House of Representatives and the Senate, +shall, before it become a Law, be presented to the President of the United +States; If he approve he shall sign it, but if not he shall return it, with his +Objections to that House in which it shall have originated, who shall enter the +Objections at large on their Journal, and proceed to reconsider it. If after +such Reconsideration two thirds of that House shall agree to pass the Bill, it +shall be sent, together with the Objections, to the other House, by which it +shall likewise be reconsidered, and if approved by two thirds of that House, it +shall become a Law. But in all such Cases the Votes of both Houses shall be +determined by Yeas and Nays, and the Names of the Persons voting for and +against the Bill shall be entered on the Journal of each House respectively. If +any Bill shall not be returned by the President within ten Days (Sundays +excepted) after it shall have been presented to him, the Same shall be a Law, +in like Manner as if he had signed it, unless the Congress by their Adjournment +prevent its Return, in which Case it shall not be a Law. + +Every Order, Resolution, or Vote to which the Concurrence of the Senate and +House of Representatives may be necessary (except on a question of Adjournment) +shall be presented to the President of the United States; and before the Same +shall take Effect, shall be approved by him, or being disapproved by him, shall +be repassed by two thirds of the Senate and House of Representatives, according +to the Rules and Limitations prescribed in the Case of a Bill. + + +Section 8 +The Congress shall have Power To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and +Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general +Welfare of the United States; but all Duties, Imposts and Excises shall be +uniform throughout the United States; + +To borrow money on the credit of the United States; + +To regulate Commerce with foreign Nations, and among the several States, and +with the Indian Tribes; + +To establish an uniform Rule of Naturalization, and uniform Laws on the subject +of Bankruptcies throughout the United States; + +To coin Money, regulate the Value thereof, and of foreign Coin, and fix the +Standard of Weights and Measures; + +To provide for the Punishment of counterfeiting the Securities and current Coin +of the United States; + +To establish Post Offices and Post Roads; + +To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited +Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings +and Discoveries; + +To constitute Tribunals inferior to the supreme Court; + +To define and punish Piracies and Felonies committed on the high Seas, and +Offenses against the Law of Nations; + +To declare War, grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal, and make Rules concerning +Captures on Land and Water; + +To raise and support Armies, but no Appropriation of Money to that Use shall be +for a longer Term than two Years; + +To provide and maintain a Navy; + +To make Rules for the Government and Regulation of the land and naval Forces; + +To provide for calling forth the Militia to execute the Laws of the Union, +suppress Insurrections and repel Invasions; + +To provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining the Militia, and for +governing such Part of them as may be employed in the Service of the United +States, reserving to the States respectively, the Appointment of the Officers, +and the Authority of training the Militia according to the discipline +prescribed by Congress; + +To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases whatsoever, over such District +(not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, and +the acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of the Government of the United +States, and to exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by the Consent +of the Legislature of the State in which the Same shall be, for the Erection of +Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, dock-Yards, and other needful Buildings; And + +To make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into +Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this +Constitution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or +Officer thereof. + +Section 9 +The Migration or Importation of such Persons as any of the States now existing +shall think proper to admit, shall not be prohibited by the Congress prior to +the Year one thousand eight hundred and eight, but a tax or duty may be imposed +on such Importation, not exceeding ten dollars for each Person. + +The privilege of the Writ of Habeas Corpus shall not be suspended, unless when +in Cases of Rebellion or Invasion the public Safety may require it. + +No Bill of Attainder or ex post facto Law shall be passed. + +No capitation, or other direct, Tax shall be laid, unless in Proportion to the +Census or Enumeration herein before directed to be taken. + +No Tax or Duty shall be laid on Articles exported from any State. + +No Preference shall be given by any Regulation of Commerce or Revenue to the +Ports of one State over those of another: nor shall Vessels bound to, or from, +one State, be obliged to enter, clear, or pay Duties in another. + +No Money shall be drawn from the Treasury, but in Consequence of Appropriations +made by Law; and a regular Statement and Account of the Receipts and +Expenditures of all public Money shall be published from time to time. + +No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States: And no Person +holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Consent of +the Congress, accept of any present, Emolument, Office, or Title, of any kind +whatever, from any King, Prince or foreign State. + +Section 10 +No State shall enter into any Treaty, Alliance, or Confederation; grant Letters +of Marque and Reprisal; coin Money; emit Bills of Credit; make any Thing but +gold and silver Coin a Tender in Payment of Debts; pass any Bill of Attainder, +ex post facto Law, or Law impairing the Obligation of Contracts, or grant any +Title of Nobility. + +No State shall, without the Consent of the Congress, lay any Imposts or Duties +on Imports or Exports, except what may be absolutely necessary for executing +its inspection Laws: and the net Produce of all Duties and Imposts, laid by +any State on Imports or Exports, shall be for the Use of the Treasury of the +United States; and all such Laws shall be subject to the Revision and Control +of the Congress. + +No State shall, without the Consent of Congress, lay any duty of Tonnage, keep +Troops, or Ships of War in time of Peace, enter into any Agreement or Compact +with another State, or with a foreign Power, or engage in War, unless actually +invaded, or in such imminent Danger as will not admit of delay. + +Article 2. + +Section 1 +The executive Power shall be vested in a President of the United States of +America. He shall hold his Office during the Term of four Years, and, together +with the Vice-President chosen for the same Term, be elected, as follows: + +Each State shall appoint, in such Manner as the Legislature thereof may direct, +a Number of Electors, equal to the whole Number of Senators and Representatives +to which the State may be entitled in the Congress: but no Senator or +Representative, or Person holding an Office of Trust or Profit under the United +States, shall be appointed an Elector. + +The Electors shall meet in their respective States, and vote by Ballot for two +persons, of whom one at least shall not lie an Inhabitant of the same State +with themselves. And they shall make a List of all the Persons voted for, and +of the Number of Votes for each; which List they shall sign and certify, and +transmit sealed to the Seat of the Government of the United States, directed to +the President of the Senate. The President of the Senate shall, in the Presence +of the Senate and House of Representatives, open all the Certificates, and the +Votes shall then be counted. The Person having the greatest Number of Votes +shall be the President, if such Number be a Majority of the whole Number of +Electors appointed; and if there be more than one who have such Majority, and +have an equal Number of Votes, then the House of Representatives shall +immediately choose by Ballot one of them for President; and if no Person have a +Majority, then from the five highest on the List the said House shall in like +Manner choose the President. But in choosing the President, the Votes shall be +taken by States, the Representation from each State having one Vote; a quorum +for this Purpose shall consist of a Member or Members from two-thirds of the +States, and a Majority of all the States shall be necessary to a Choice. In +every Case, after the Choice of the President, the Person having the greatest +Number of Votes of the Electors shall be the Vice President. But if there +should remain two or more who have equal Votes, the Senate shall choose from +them by Ballot the Vice-President. + +The Congress may determine the Time of choosing the Electors, and the Day on +which they shall give their Votes; which Day shall be the same throughout the +United States. + +No person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at +the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office +of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not +have attained to the Age of thirty-five Years, and been fourteen Years a +Resident within the United States. + +In Case of the Removal of the President from Office, or of his Death, +Resignation, or Inability to discharge the Powers and Duties of the said +Office, the same shall devolve on the Vice President, and the Congress may by +Law provide for the Case of Removal, Death, Resignation or Inability, both of +the President and Vice President, declaring what Officer shall then act as +President, and such Officer shall act accordingly, until the Disability be +removed, or a President shall be elected. + +The President shall, at stated Times, receive for his Services, a Compensation, +which shall neither be increased nor diminished during the Period for which he +shall have been elected, and he shall not receive within that Period any other +Emolument from the United States, or any of them. + +Before he enter on the Execution of his Office, he shall take the following +Oath or Affirmation: + +"I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of +President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, +protect and defend the Constitution of the United States." + +Section 2 +The President shall be Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy of the United +States, and of the Militia of the several States, when called into the actual +Service of the United States; he may require the Opinion, in writing, of the +principal Officer in each of the executive Departments, upon any subject +relating to the Duties of their respective Offices, and he shall have Power to +Grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offenses against the United States, except in +Cases of Impeachment. + +He shall have Power, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, to make +Treaties, provided two thirds of the Senators present concur; and he shall +nominate, and by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, shall appoint +Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, Judges of the supreme Court, +and all other Officers of the United States, whose Appointments are not herein +otherwise provided for, and which shall be established by Law: but the Congress +may by Law vest the Appointment of such inferior Officers, as they think +proper, in the President alone, in the Courts of Law, or in the Heads of +Departments. + +The President shall have Power to fill up all Vacancies that may happen during +the Recess of the Senate, by granting Commissions which shall expire at the End +of their next Session. + +Section 3 +He shall from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the +Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge +necessary and expedient; he may, on extraordinary Occasions, convene both +Houses, or either of them, and in Case of Disagreement between them, with +Respect to the Time of Adjournment, he may adjourn them to such Time as he +shall think proper; he shall receive Ambassadors and other public Ministers; he +shall take Care that the Laws be faithfully executed, and shall Commission all +the Officers of the United States. + +Section 4 +The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the United States, +shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, +Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors. + +Article 3. + +Section 1 +The judicial Power of the United States, shall be vested in one supreme Court, +and in such inferior Courts as the Congress may from time to time ordain and +establish. The Judges, both of the supreme and inferior Courts, shall hold +their Offices during good Behavior, and shall, at stated Times, receive for +their Services a Compensation which shall not be diminished during their +Continuance in Office. + +Section 2 +The judicial Power shall extend to all Cases, in Law and Equity, arising under +this Constitution, the Laws of the United States, and Treaties made, or which +shall be made, under their Authority; to all Cases affecting Ambassadors, other +public Ministers and Consuls; to all Cases of admiralty and maritime +Jurisdiction; to Controversies to which the United States shall be a Party; to +Controversies between two or more States; between a State and Citizens of +another State; between Citizens of different States; between Citizens of the +same State claiming Lands under Grants of different States, and between a +State, or the Citizens thereof, and foreign States, Citizens or Subjects. + +In all Cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, and +those in which a State shall be Party, the supreme Court shall have original +Jurisdiction. In all the other Cases before mentioned, the supreme Court shall +have appellate Jurisdiction, both as to Law and Fact, with such Exceptions, and +under such Regulations as the Congress shall make. + +The Trial of all Crimes, except in Cases of Impeachment, shall be by Jury; and +such Trial shall be held in the State where the said Crimes shall have been +committed; but when not committed within any State, the Trial shall be at such +Place or Places as the Congress may by Law have directed. + +Section 3 +Treason against the United States, shall consist only in levying War against +them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort. No Person +shall be convicted of Treason unless on the Testimony of two Witnesses to the +same overt Act, or on Confession in open Court. + +The Congress shall have power to declare the Punishment of Treason, but no +Attainder of Treason shall work Corruption of Blood, or Forfeiture except +during the Life of the Person attainted. + +Article 4. + +Section 1 +Full Faith and Credit shall be given in each State to the public Acts, Records, +and judicial Proceedings of every other State. And the Congress may by general +Laws prescribe the Manner in which such Acts, Records and Proceedings shall be +proved, and the Effect thereof. + +Section 2 +The Citizens of each State shall be entitled to all Privileges and Immunities +of Citizens in the several States. + +A Person charged in any State with Treason, Felony, or other Crime, who shall +flee from Justice, and be found in another State, shall on demand of the +executive Authority of the State from which he fled, be delivered up, to be +removed to the State having Jurisdiction of the Crime. + +No Person held to Service or Labour in one State, under the Laws thereof, +escaping into another, shall, in Consequence of any Law or Regulation therein, +be discharged from such Service or Labour, But shall be delivered up on Claim +of the Party to whom such Service or Labour may be due. + +Section 3 +New States may be admitted by the Congress into this Union; but no new States +shall be formed or erected within the Jurisdiction of any other State; nor any +State be formed by the Junction of two or more States, or parts of States, +without the Consent of the Legislatures of the States concerned as well as of +the Congress. + +The Congress shall have Power to dispose of and make all needful Rules and +Regulations respecting the Territory or other Property belonging to the United +States; and nothing in this Constitution shall be so construed as to Prejudice +any Claims of the United States, or of any particular State. + +Section 4 +The United States shall guarantee to every State in this Union a Republican +Form of Government, and shall protect each of them against Invasion; and on +Application of the Legislature, or of the Executive (when the Legislature +cannot be convened) against domestic Violence. + +Article 5. + +The Congress, whenever two thirds of both Houses shall deem it necessary, shall +propose Amendments to this Constitution, or, on the Application of the +Legislatures of two thirds of the several States, shall call a Convention for +proposing Amendments, which, in either Case, shall be valid to all Intents and +Purposes, as part of this Constitution, when ratified by the Legislatures of +three fourths of the several States, or by Conventions in three fourths +thereof, as the one or the other Mode of Ratification may be proposed by the +Congress; Provided that no Amendment which may be made prior to the Year One +thousand eight hundred and eight shall in any Manner affect the first and +fourth Clauses in the Ninth Section of the first Article; and that no State, +without its Consent, shall be deprived of its equal Suffrage in the Senate. + +Article 6. + +All Debts contracted and Engagements entered into, before the Adoption of this +Constitution, shall be as valid against the United States under this +Constitution, as under the Confederation. + +This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which shall be made in +Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made, under the +Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land; and the +Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any Thing in the Constitution or +Laws of any State to the Contrary notwithstanding. + +The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the Members of the +several State Legislatures, and all executive and judicial Officers, both of +the United States and of the several States, shall be bound by Oath or +Affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious Test shall ever be +required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United +States. + +Article 7. + +The Ratification of the Conventions of nine States, shall be sufficient for the +Establishment of this Constitution between the States so ratifying the Same. + +Done in Convention by the Unanimous Consent of the States present the +Seventeenth Day of September in the Year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred +and Eighty seven and of the Independence of the United States of America the +Twelfth. In Witness whereof We have hereunto subscribed our Names. + +George Washington - President and deputy from Virginia + +New Hampshire - John Langdon, Nicholas Gilman + +Massachusetts - Nathaniel Gorham, Rufus King + +Connecticut - William Samuel Johnson, Roger Sherman + +New York - Alexander Hamilton + +New Jersey - William Livingston, David Brearley, William Paterson, Jonathan +Dayton + +Pennsylvania - Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Mifflin, Robert Morris, George Clymer, +Thomas Fitzsimons, Jared Ingersoll, James Wilson, Gouvernour Morris + +Delaware - George Read, Gunning Bedford Jr., John Dickinson, Richard Bassett, +Jacob Broom + +Maryland - James McHenry, Daniel of St Thomas Jenifer, Daniel Carroll + +Virginia - John Blair, James Madison Jr. + +North Carolina - William Blount, Richard Dobbs Spaight, Hugh Williamson + +South Carolina - John Rutledge, Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, Charles Pinckney, +Pierce Butler + +Georgia - William Few, Abraham Baldwin + +Attest: William Jackson, Secretary + + +Amendment 1 +Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or +prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or +of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition +the Government for a redress of grievances. + +Amendment 2 +A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the +right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed. + +Amendment 3 +No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the +consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by +law. + +Amendment 4 +The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and +effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and +no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or +affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the +persons or things to be seized. + +Amendment 5 +No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, +unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising +in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time +of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offense +to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any +criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, +liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be +taken for public use, without just compensation. + +Amendment 6 +In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and +public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime +shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously +ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the +accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory +process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of +Counsel for his defence. + +Amendment 7 +In Suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty +dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a +jury, shall be otherwise re-examined in any Court of the United States, than +according to the rules of the common law. + +Amendment 8 +Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel +and unusual punishments inflicted. + +Amendment 9 +The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed +to deny or disparage others retained by the people. + +Amendment 10 +The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor +prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to +the people. + +Amendment 11 +The Judicial power of the United States shall not be construed to extend to any +suit in law or equity, commenced or prosecuted against one of the United States +by Citizens of another State, or by Citizens or Subjects of any Foreign State. + +Amendment 12 +The Electors shall meet in their respective states, and vote by ballot for +President and Vice-President, one of whom, at least, shall not be an inhabitant +of the same state with themselves; they shall name in their ballots the person +voted for as President, and in distinct ballots the person voted for as +Vice-President, and they shall make distinct lists of all persons voted for as +President, and of all persons voted for as Vice-President and of the number of +votes for each, which lists they shall sign and certify, and transmit sealed to +the seat of the government of the United States, directed to the President of +the Senate; + +The President of the Senate shall, in the presence of the Senate and House of +Representatives, open all the certificates and the votes shall then be counted; + +The person having the greatest Number of votes for President, shall be the +President, if such number be a majority of the whole number of Electors +appointed; and if no person have such majority, then from the persons having +the highest numbers not exceeding three on the list of those voted for as +President, the House of Representatives shall choose immediately, by ballot, +the President. But in choosing the President, the votes shall be taken by +states, the representation from each state having one vote; a quorum for this +purpose shall consist of a member or members from two-thirds of the states, and +a majority of all the states shall be necessary to a choice. And if the House +of Representatives shall not choose a President whenever the right of choice +shall devolve upon them, before the fourth day of March next following, then +the Vice-President shall act as President, as in the case of the death or other +constitutional disability of the President. + +The person having the greatest number of votes as Vice-President, shall be the +Vice-President, if such number be a majority of the whole number of Electors +appointed, and if no person have a majority, then from the two highest numbers +on the list, the Senate shall choose the Vice-President; a quorum for the +purpose shall consist of two-thirds of the whole number of Senators, and a +majority of the whole number shall be necessary to a choice. But no person +constitutionally ineligible to the office of President shall be eligible to +that of Vice-President of the United States. + +Amendment 13 +1. Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime +whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United +States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction. + +2. Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate +legislation. + +Amendment 14 +1. All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the +jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State +wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge +the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any +State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of +law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the +laws. + +2. Representatives shall be apportioned among the several States according to +their respective numbers, counting the whole number of persons in each State, +excluding Indians not taxed. But when the right to vote at any election for the +choice of electors for President and Vice-President of the United States, +Representatives in Congress, the Executive and Judicial officers of a State, or +the members of the Legislature thereof, is denied to any of the male +inhabitants of such State, being twenty-one years of age, and citizens of the +United States, or in any way abridged, except for participation in rebellion, +or other crime, the basis of representation therein shall be reduced in the +proportion which the number of such male citizens shall bear to the whole +number of male citizens twenty-one years of age in such State. + +3. No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of +President and Vice-President, or hold any office, civil or military, under the +United States, or under any State, who, having previously taken an oath, as a +member of Congress, or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of +any State legislature, or as an executive or judicial officer of any State, to +support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in +insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the +enemies thereof. But Congress may by a vote of two-thirds of each House, remove +such disability. + +4. The validity of the public debt of the United States, authorized by law, +including debts incurred for payment of pensions and bounties for services in +suppressing insurrection or rebellion, shall not be questioned. But neither the +United States nor any State shall assume or pay any debt or obligation incurred +in aid of insurrection or rebellion against the United States, or any claim for +the loss or emancipation of any slave; but all such debts, obligations and +claims shall be held illegal and void. + +5. The Congress shall have power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the +provisions of this article. + +Amendment 15 +1. The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or +abridged by the United States or by any State on account of race, color, or +previous condition of servitude. + +2. The Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate +legislation. + +Amendment 16 +The Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes on incomes, from +whatever source derived, without apportionment among the several States, and +without regard to any census or enumeration. + +Amendment 17 +The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each +State, elected by the people thereof, for six years; and each Senator shall +have one vote. The electors in each State shall have the qualifications +requisite for electors of the most numerous branch of the State legislatures. + +When vacancies happen in the representation of any State in the Senate, the +executive authority of such State shall issue writs of election to fill such +vacancies: Provided, That the legislature of any State may empower the +executive thereof to make temporary appointments until the people fill the +vacancies by election as the legislature may direct. + +This amendment shall not be so construed as to affect the election or term of +any Senator chosen before it becomes valid as part of the Constitution. + +Amendment 18 +1. After one year from the ratification of this article the manufacture, sale, +or transportation of intoxicating liquors within, the importation thereof into, +or the exportation thereof from the United States and all territory subject to +the jurisdiction thereof for beverage purposes is hereby prohibited. + +2. The Congress and the several States shall have concurrent power to enforce +this article by appropriate legislation. + +3. This article shall be inoperative unless it shall have been ratified as an +amendment to the Constitution by the legislatures of the several States, as +provided in the Constitution, within seven years from the date of the +submission hereof to the States by the Congress. + +Amendment 19 +The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or +abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex. + +Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation. + +Amendment 20 +1. The terms of the President and Vice President shall end at noon on the 20th +day of January, and the terms of Senators and Representatives at noon on the 3d +day of January, of the years in which such terms would have ended if this +article had not been ratified; and the terms of their successors shall then +begin. + +2. The Congress shall assemble at least once in every year, and such meeting +shall begin at noon on the 3d day of January, unless they shall by law appoint +a different day. + +3. If, at the time fixed for the beginning of the term of the President, the +President elect shall have died, the Vice President elect shall become +President. If a President shall not have been chosen before the time fixed for +the beginning of his term, or if the President elect shall have failed to +qualify, then the Vice President elect shall act as President until a President +shall have qualified; and the Congress may by law provide for the case wherein +neither a President elect nor a Vice President elect shall have qualified, +declaring who shall then act as President, or the manner in which one who is to +act shall be selected, and such person shall act accordingly until a President +or Vice President shall have qualified. + +4. The Congress may by law provide for the case of the death of any of the +persons from whom the House of Representatives may choose a President whenever +the right of choice shall have devolved upon them, and for the case of the +death of any of the persons from whom the Senate may choose a Vice President +whenever the right of choice shall have devolved upon them. + +5. Sections 1 and 2 shall take effect on the 15th day of October following the +ratification of this article. + +6. This article shall be inoperative unless it shall have been ratified as an +amendment to the Constitution by the legislatures of three-fourths of the +several States within seven years from the date of its submission. + +Amendment 21 +1. The eighteenth article of amendment to the Constitution of the United States +is hereby repealed. + +2. The transportation or importation into any State, Territory, or possession +of the United States for delivery or use therein of intoxicating liquors, in +violation of the laws thereof, is hereby prohibited. + +3. The article shall be inoperative unless it shall have been ratified as an +amendment to the Constitution by conventions in the several States, as provided +in the Constitution, within seven years from the date of the submission hereof +to the States by the Congress. + +Amendment 22 +1. No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice, +and no person who has held the office of President, or acted as President, for +more than two years of a term to which some other person was elected President +shall be elected to the office of the President more than once. But this +Article shall not apply to any person holding the office of President, when this +Article was proposed by the Congress, and shall not prevent any person who may +be holding the office of President, or acting as President, during the term +within which this Article becomes operative from holding the office of +President or acting as President during the remainder of such term. + +2. This article shall be inoperative unless it shall have been ratified as an +amendment to the Constitution by the legislatures of three-fourths of the +several States within seven years from the date of its submission to the States +by the Congress. + +Amendment 23 +1. The District constituting the seat of Government of the United States shall +appoint in such manner as the Congress may direct: A number of electors of +President and Vice President equal to the whole number of Senators and +Representatives in Congress to which the District would be entitled if it were +a State, but in no event more than the least populous State; they shall be in +addition to those appointed by the States, but they shall be considered, for +the purposes of the election of President and Vice President, to be electors +appointed by a State; and they shall meet in the District and perform such +duties as provided by the twelfth article of amendment. + +2. The Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate +legislation. + +Amendment 24 +1. The right of citizens of the United States to vote in any primary or other +election for President or Vice President, for electors for President or +Vice President, or for Senator or Representative in Congress, shall not be +denied or abridged by the United States or any State by reason of failure to +pay any poll tax or other tax. + +2. The Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate +legislation. + +Amendment 25 +1. In case of the removal of the President from office or of his death or +resignation, the Vice President shall become President. + +2. Whenever there is a vacancy in the office of the Vice President, the +President shall nominate a Vice President who shall take office upon +confirmation by a majority vote of both Houses of Congress. + +3. Whenever the President transmits to the President pro tempore of the Senate +and the Speaker of the House of Representatives his written declaration that he +is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, and until he +transmits to them a written declaration to the contrary, such powers and duties +shall be discharged by the Vice President as Acting President. + +4. Whenever the Vice President and a majority of either the principal officers +of the executive departments or of such other body as Congress may by law +provide, transmit to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of +the House of Representatives their written declaration that the President is +unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, the Vice President +shall immediately assume the powers and duties of the office as Acting +President. + +Thereafter, when the President transmits to the President pro tempore of the +Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives his written declaration +that no inability exists, he shall resume the powers and duties of his office +unless the Vice President and a majority of either the principal officers of +the executive department or of such other body as Congress may by law provide, +transmit within four days to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the +Speaker of the House of Representatives their written declaration that the +President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office. Thereupon +Congress shall decide the issue, assembling within forty eight hours for that +purpose if not in session. If the Congress, within twenty one days after +receipt of the latter written declaration, or, if Congress is not in session, +within twenty one days after Congress is required to assemble, determines by +two thirds vote of both Houses that the President is unable to discharge the +powers and duties of his office, the Vice President shall continue to discharge +the same as Acting President; otherwise, the President shall resume the powers +and duties of his office. + +Amendment 26 +1. The right of citizens of the United States, who are eighteen years of age or +older, to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any +State on account of age. + +2. The Congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate +legislation. + +Amendment 27 +No law, varying the compensation for the services of the Senators and +Representatives, shall take effect, until an election of Representatives shall +have intervened. diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/federalist.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/federalist.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bc6d992 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/federalist.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19482 @@ +*This is the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Federalist Papers.* +*****This file should be named feder16.txt or feder16.zip****** +The release date of this Project Gutenberg Etext: June 6, 1992 +[Date last updated: July 10, 2004] + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, feder17.txt. +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, feder10a.txt. + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about one million dollars for each hour we work. 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KRAMER, Attorney +CompuServe: 72600,2026 + Internet: 72600.2026@compuserve.com + Tel: (212) 254-5093 + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.03.08.92*END* + + This is the Project Gutenberg 1.5 release of + The Federalist Papers + + + + + + +FEDERALIST. No. 1 + +General Introduction +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +AFTER an unequivocal experience of the inefficacy of the + subsisting federal government, you are called upon to deliberate on + a new Constitution for the United States of America. The subject + speaks its own importance; comprehending in its consequences + nothing less than the existence of the UNION, the safety and welfare + of the parts of which it is composed, the fate of an empire in many + respects the most interesting in the world. It has been frequently + remarked that it seems to have been reserved to the people of this + country, by their conduct and example, to decide the important + question, whether societies of men are really capable or not of + establishing good government from reflection and choice, or whether + they are forever destined to depend for their political + constitutions on accident and force. If there be any truth in the + remark, the crisis at which we are arrived may with propriety be + regarded as the era in which that decision is to be made; and a + wrong election of the part we shall act may, in this view, deserve + to be considered as the general misfortune of mankind. +This idea will add the inducements of philanthropy to those of + patriotism, to heighten the solicitude which all considerate and + good men must feel for the event. Happy will it be if our choice + should be directed by a judicious estimate of our true interests, + unperplexed and unbiased by considerations not connected with the + public good. But this is a thing more ardently to be wished than + seriously to be expected. The plan offered to our deliberations + affects too many particular interests, innovates upon too many local + institutions, not to involve in its discussion a variety of objects + foreign to its merits, and of views, passions and prejudices little + favorable to the discovery of truth. +Among the most formidable of the obstacles which the new + Constitution will have to encounter may readily be distinguished the + obvious interest of a certain class of men in every State to resist + all changes which may hazard a diminution of the power, emolument, + and consequence of the offices they hold under the State + establishments; and the perverted ambition of another class of men, + who will either hope to aggrandize themselves by the confusions of + their country, or will flatter themselves with fairer prospects of + elevation from the subdivision of the empire into several partial + confederacies than from its union under one government. +It is not, however, my design to dwell upon observations of this + nature. I am well aware that it would be disingenuous to resolve + indiscriminately the opposition of any set of men (merely because + their situations might subject them to suspicion) into interested or + ambitious views. Candor will oblige us to admit that even such men + may be actuated by upright intentions; and it cannot be doubted + that much of the opposition which has made its appearance, or may + hereafter make its appearance, will spring from sources, blameless + at least, if not respectable--the honest errors of minds led astray + by preconceived jealousies and fears. So numerous indeed and so + powerful are the causes which serve to give a false bias to the + judgment, that we, upon many occasions, see wise and good men on the + wrong as well as on the right side of questions of the first + magnitude to society. This circumstance, if duly attended to, would + furnish a lesson of moderation to those who are ever so much + persuaded of their being in the right in any controversy. And a + further reason for caution, in this respect, might be drawn from the + reflection that we are not always sure that those who advocate the + truth are influenced by purer principles than their antagonists. + Ambition, avarice, personal animosity, party opposition, and many + other motives not more laudable than these, are apt to operate as + well upon those who support as those who oppose the right side of a + question. Were there not even these inducements to moderation, + nothing could be more ill-judged than that intolerant spirit which + has, at all times, characterized political parties. For in + politics, as in religion, it is equally absurd to aim at making + proselytes by fire and sword. Heresies in either can rarely be + cured by persecution. +And yet, however just these sentiments will be allowed to be, we + have already sufficient indications that it will happen in this as + in all former cases of great national discussion. A torrent of + angry and malignant passions will be let loose. To judge from the + conduct of the opposite parties, we shall be led to conclude that + they will mutually hope to evince the justness of their opinions, + and to increase the number of their converts by the loudness of + their declamations and the bitterness of their invectives. An + enlightened zeal for the energy and efficiency of government will be + stigmatized as the offspring of a temper fond of despotic power and + hostile to the principles of liberty. An over-scrupulous jealousy + of danger to the rights of the people, which is more commonly the + fault of the head than of the heart, will be represented as mere + pretense and artifice, the stale bait for popularity at the expense + of the public good. It will be forgotten, on the one hand, that + jealousy is the usual concomitant of love, and that the noble + enthusiasm of liberty is apt to be infected with a spirit of narrow + and illiberal distrust. On the other hand, it will be equally + forgotten that the vigor of government is essential to the security + of liberty; that, in the contemplation of a sound and well-informed + judgment, their interest can never be separated; and that a + dangerous ambition more often lurks behind the specious mask of zeal + for the rights of the people than under the forbidden appearance of + zeal for the firmness and efficiency of government. History will + teach us that the former has been found a much more certain road to + the introduction of despotism than the latter, and that of those men + who have overturned the liberties of republics, the greatest number + have begun their career by paying an obsequious court to the people; + commencing demagogues, and ending tyrants. +In the course of the preceding observations, I have had an eye, + my fellow-citizens, to putting you upon your guard against all + attempts, from whatever quarter, to influence your decision in a + matter of the utmost moment to your welfare, by any impressions + other than those which may result from the evidence of truth. You + will, no doubt, at the same time, have collected from the general + scope of them, that they proceed from a source not unfriendly to the + new Constitution. Yes, my countrymen, I own to you that, after + having given it an attentive consideration, I am clearly of opinion + it is your interest to adopt it. I am convinced that this is the + safest course for your liberty, your dignity, and your happiness. I + affect not reserves which I do not feel. I will not amuse you with + an appearance of deliberation when I have decided. I frankly + acknowledge to you my convictions, and I will freely lay before you + the reasons on which they are founded. The consciousness of good + intentions disdains ambiguity. I shall not, however, multiply + professions on this head. My motives must remain in the depository + of my own breast. My arguments will be open to all, and may be + judged of by all. They shall at least be offered in a spirit which + will not disgrace the cause of truth. +I propose, in a series of papers, to discuss the following + interesting particulars: +THE UTILITY OF THE UNION TO YOUR POLITICAL PROSPERITY +THE INSUFFICIENCY OF THE PRESENT CONFEDERATION + TO PRESERVE THAT UNION THE NECESSITY OF A GOVERNMENT AT LEAST + EQUALLY ENERGETIC WITH THE ONE PROPOSED, TO THE ATTAINMENT OF THIS + OBJECT THE CONFORMITY OF THE PROPOSED CONSTITUTION TO THE TRUE + PRINCIPLES OF REPUBLICAN GOVERNMENT + ITS ANALOGY TO YOUR OWN STATE CONSTITUTION + and lastly, THE ADDITIONAL SECURITY WHICH ITS + ADOPTION WILL AFFORD TO THE PRESERVATION OF THAT SPECIES OF + GOVERNMENT, TO LIBERTY, AND TO PROPERTY. +In the progress of this discussion I shall endeavor to give a + satisfactory answer to all the objections which shall have made + their appearance, that may seem to have any claim to your attention. +It may perhaps be thought superfluous to offer arguments to + prove the utility of the UNION, a point, no doubt, deeply engraved + on the hearts of the great body of the people in every State, and + one, which it may be imagined, has no adversaries. But the fact is, + that we already hear it whispered in the private circles of those + who oppose the new Constitution, that the thirteen States are of too + great extent for any general system, and that we must of necessity + resort to separate confederacies of distinct portions of the + whole.1 This doctrine will, in all probability, be gradually + propagated, till it has votaries enough to countenance an open + avowal of it. For nothing can be more evident, to those who are + able to take an enlarged view of the subject, than the alternative + of an adoption of the new Constitution or a dismemberment of the + Union. It will therefore be of use to begin by examining the + advantages of that Union, the certain evils, and the probable + dangers, to which every State will be exposed from its dissolution. + This shall accordingly constitute the subject of my next address. + PUBLIUS. +1 The same idea, tracing the arguments to their consequences, is + held out in several of the late publications against the new + Constitution. + + + +FEDERALIST No. 2 + +Concerning Dangers from Foreign Force and Influence +For the Independent Journal. + +JAY + +To the People of the State of New York: +WHEN the people of America reflect that they are now called upon + to decide a question, which, in its consequences, must prove one of + the most important that ever engaged their attention, the propriety + of their taking a very comprehensive, as well as a very serious, + view of it, will be evident. +Nothing is more certain than the indispensable necessity of + government, and it is equally undeniable, that whenever and however + it is instituted, the people must cede to it some of their natural + rights in order to vest it with requisite powers. It is well worthy + of consideration therefore, whether it would conduce more to the + interest of the people of America that they should, to all general + purposes, be one nation, under one federal government, or that they + should divide themselves into separate confederacies, and give to + the head of each the same kind of powers which they are advised to + place in one national government. +It has until lately been a received and uncontradicted opinion + that the prosperity of the people of America depended on their + continuing firmly united, and the wishes, prayers, and efforts of + our best and wisest citizens have been constantly directed to that + object. But politicians now appear, who insist that this opinion is + erroneous, and that instead of looking for safety and happiness in + union, we ought to seek it in a division of the States into distinct + confederacies or sovereignties. However extraordinary this new + doctrine may appear, it nevertheless has its advocates; and certain + characters who were much opposed to it formerly, are at present of + the number. Whatever may be the arguments or inducements which have + wrought this change in the sentiments and declarations of these + gentlemen, it certainly would not be wise in the people at large to + adopt these new political tenets without being fully convinced that + they are founded in truth and sound policy. +It has often given me pleasure to observe that independent + America was not composed of detached and distant territories, but + that one connected, fertile, widespreading country was the portion + of our western sons of liberty. Providence has in a particular + manner blessed it with a variety of soils and productions, and + watered it with innumerable streams, for the delight and + accommodation of its inhabitants. A succession of navigable waters + forms a kind of chain round its borders, as if to bind it together; + while the most noble rivers in the world, running at convenient + distances, present them with highways for the easy communication of + friendly aids, and the mutual transportation and exchange of their + various commodities. +With equal pleasure I have as often taken notice that Providence + has been pleased to give this one connected country to one united + people--a people descended from the same ancestors, speaking the same + language, professing the same religion, attached to the same + principles of government, very similar in their manners and customs, + and who, by their joint counsels, arms, and efforts, fighting side + by side throughout a long and bloody war, have nobly established + general liberty and independence. +This country and this people seem to have been made for each + other, and it appears as if it was the design of Providence, that an + inheritance so proper and convenient for a band of brethren, united + to each other by the strongest ties, should never be split into a + number of unsocial, jealous, and alien sovereignties. +Similar sentiments have hitherto prevailed among all orders and + denominations of men among us. To all general purposes we have + uniformly been one people each individual citizen everywhere + enjoying the same national rights, privileges, and protection. As a + nation we have made peace and war; as a nation we have vanquished + our common enemies; as a nation we have formed alliances, and made + treaties, and entered into various compacts and conventions with + foreign states. +A strong sense of the value and blessings of union induced the + people, at a very early period, to institute a federal government to + preserve and perpetuate it. They formed it almost as soon as they + had a political existence; nay, at a time when their habitations + were in flames, when many of their citizens were bleeding, and when + the progress of hostility and desolation left little room for those + calm and mature inquiries and reflections which must ever precede + the formation of a wise and wellbalanced government for a free + people. It is not to be wondered at, that a government instituted + in times so inauspicious, should on experiment be found greatly + deficient and inadequate to the purpose it was intended to answer. +This intelligent people perceived and regretted these defects. + Still continuing no less attached to union than enamored of + liberty, they observed the danger which immediately threatened the + former and more remotely the latter; and being pursuaded that ample + security for both could only be found in a national government more + wisely framed, they as with one voice, convened the late convention + at Philadelphia, to take that important subject under consideration. +This convention composed of men who possessed the confidence of + the people, and many of whom had become highly distinguished by + their patriotism, virtue and wisdom, in times which tried the minds + and hearts of men, undertook the arduous task. In the mild season + of peace, with minds unoccupied by other subjects, they passed many + months in cool, uninterrupted, and daily consultation; and finally, + without having been awed by power, or influenced by any passions + except love for their country, they presented and recommended to the + people the plan produced by their joint and very unanimous councils. +Admit, for so is the fact, that this plan is only RECOMMENDED, + not imposed, yet let it be remembered that it is neither recommended + to BLIND approbation, nor to BLIND reprobation; but to that sedate + and candid consideration which the magnitude and importance of the + subject demand, and which it certainly ought to receive. But this + (as was remarked in the foregoing number of this paper) is more to + be wished than expected, that it may be so considered and examined. + Experience on a former occasion teaches us not to be too sanguine + in such hopes. It is not yet forgotten that well-grounded + apprehensions of imminent danger induced the people of America to + form the memorable Congress of 1774. That body recommended certain + measures to their constituents, and the event proved their wisdom; + yet it is fresh in our memories how soon the press began to teem + with pamphlets and weekly papers against those very measures. Not + only many of the officers of government, who obeyed the dictates of + personal interest, but others, from a mistaken estimate of + consequences, or the undue influence of former attachments, or whose + ambition aimed at objects which did not correspond with the public + good, were indefatigable in their efforts to pursuade the people to + reject the advice of that patriotic Congress. Many, indeed, were + deceived and deluded, but the great majority of the people reasoned + and decided judiciously; and happy they are in reflecting that they + did so. +They considered that the Congress was composed of many wise and + experienced men. That, being convened from different parts of the + country, they brought with them and communicated to each other a + variety of useful information. That, in the course of the time they + passed together in inquiring into and discussing the true interests + of their country, they must have acquired very accurate knowledge on + that head. That they were individually interested in the public + liberty and prosperity, and therefore that it was not less their + inclination than their duty to recommend only such measures as, + after the most mature deliberation, they really thought prudent and + advisable. +These and similar considerations then induced the people to rely + greatly on the judgment and integrity of the Congress; and they + took their advice, notwithstanding the various arts and endeavors + used to deter them from it. But if the people at large had reason + to confide in the men of that Congress, few of whom had been fully + tried or generally known, still greater reason have they now to + respect the judgment and advice of the convention, for it is well + known that some of the most distinguished members of that Congress, + who have been since tried and justly approved for patriotism and + abilities, and who have grown old in acquiring political + information, were also members of this convention, and carried into + it their accumulated knowledge and experience. +It is worthy of remark that not only the first, but every + succeeding Congress, as well as the late convention, have invariably + joined with the people in thinking that the prosperity of America + depended on its Union. To preserve and perpetuate it was the great + object of the people in forming that convention, and it is also the + great object of the plan which the convention has advised them to + adopt. With what propriety, therefore, or for what good purposes, + are attempts at this particular period made by some men to + depreciate the importance of the Union? Or why is it suggested that + three or four confederacies would be better than one? I am + persuaded in my own mind that the people have always thought right + on this subject, and that their universal and uniform attachment to + the cause of the Union rests on great and weighty reasons, which I + shall endeavor to develop and explain in some ensuing papers. They + who promote the idea of substituting a number of distinct + confederacies in the room of the plan of the convention, seem + clearly to foresee that the rejection of it would put the + continuance of the Union in the utmost jeopardy. That certainly + would be the case, and I sincerely wish that it may be as clearly + foreseen by every good citizen, that whenever the dissolution of the + Union arrives, America will have reason to exclaim, in the words of + the poet: ``FAREWELL! A LONG FAREWELL TO ALL MY GREATNESS.'' +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 3 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) +For the Independent Journal. + +JAY + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT IS not a new observation that the people of any country (if, + like the Americans, intelligent and wellinformed) seldom adopt and + steadily persevere for many years in an erroneous opinion respecting + their interests. That consideration naturally tends to create great + respect for the high opinion which the people of America have so + long and uniformly entertained of the importance of their continuing + firmly united under one federal government, vested with sufficient + powers for all general and national purposes. +The more attentively I consider and investigate the reasons + which appear to have given birth to this opinion, the more I become + convinced that they are cogent and conclusive. +Among the many objects to which a wise and free people find it + necessary to direct their attention, that of providing for their + SAFETY seems to be the first. The SAFETY of the people doubtless + has relation to a great variety of circumstances and considerations, + and consequently affords great latitude to those who wish to define + it precisely and comprehensively. +At present I mean only to consider it as it respects security + for the preservation of peace and tranquillity, as well as against + dangers from FOREIGN ARMS AND INFLUENCE, as from dangers of the LIKE + KIND arising from domestic causes. As the former of these comes + first in order, it is proper it should be the first discussed. Let + us therefore proceed to examine whether the people are not right in + their opinion that a cordial Union, under an efficient national + government, affords them the best security that can be devised + against HOSTILITIES from abroad. +The number of wars which have happened or will happen in the + world will always be found to be in proportion to the number and + weight of the causes, whether REAL or PRETENDED, which PROVOKE or + INVITE them. If this remark be just, it becomes useful to inquire + whether so many JUST causes of war are likely to be given by UNITED + AMERICA as by DISUNITED America; for if it should turn out that + United America will probably give the fewest, then it will follow + that in this respect the Union tends most to preserve the people in + a state of peace with other nations. +The JUST causes of war, for the most part, arise either from + violation of treaties or from direct violence. America has already + formed treaties with no less than six foreign nations, and all of + them, except Prussia, are maritime, and therefore able to annoy and + injure us. She has also extensive commerce with Portugal, Spain, + and Britain, and, with respect to the two latter, has, in addition, + the circumstance of neighborhood to attend to. +It is of high importance to the peace of America that she + observe the laws of nations towards all these powers, and to me it + appears evident that this will be more perfectly and punctually done + by one national government than it could be either by thirteen + separate States or by three or four distinct confederacies. +Because when once an efficient national government is + established, the best men in the country will not only consent to + serve, but also will generally be appointed to manage it; for, + although town or country, or other contracted influence, may place + men in State assemblies, or senates, or courts of justice, or + executive departments, yet more general and extensive reputation for + talents and other qualifications will be necessary to recommend men + to offices under the national government,--especially as it will have + the widest field for choice, and never experience that want of + proper persons which is not uncommon in some of the States. Hence, + it will result that the administration, the political counsels, and + the judicial decisions of the national government will be more wise, + systematical, and judicious than those of individual States, and + consequently more satisfactory with respect to other nations, as + well as more SAFE with respect to us. +Because, under the national government, treaties and articles of + treaties, as well as the laws of nations, will always be expounded + in one sense and executed in the same manner,--whereas, adjudications + on the same points and questions, in thirteen States, or in three or + four confederacies, will not always accord or be consistent; and + that, as well from the variety of independent courts and judges + appointed by different and independent governments, as from the + different local laws and interests which may affect and influence + them. The wisdom of the convention, in committing such questions to + the jurisdiction and judgment of courts appointed by and responsible + only to one national government, cannot be too much commended. +Because the prospect of present loss or advantage may often + tempt the governing party in one or two States to swerve from good + faith and justice; but those temptations, not reaching the other + States, and consequently having little or no influence on the + national government, the temptation will be fruitless, and good + faith and justice be preserved. The case of the treaty of peace + with Britain adds great weight to this reasoning. +Because, even if the governing party in a State should be + disposed to resist such temptations, yet as such temptations may, + and commonly do, result from circumstances peculiar to the State, + and may affect a great number of the inhabitants, the governing + party may not always be able, if willing, to prevent the injustice + meditated, or to punish the aggressors. But the national + government, not being affected by those local circumstances, will + neither be induced to commit the wrong themselves, nor want power or + inclination to prevent or punish its commission by others. +So far, therefore, as either designed or accidental violations + of treaties and the laws of nations afford JUST causes of war, they + are less to be apprehended under one general government than under + several lesser ones, and in that respect the former most favors the + SAFETY of the people. +As to those just causes of war which proceed from direct and + unlawful violence, it appears equally clear to me that one good + national government affords vastly more security against dangers of + that sort than can be derived from any other quarter. +Because such violences are more frequently caused by the + passions and interests of a part than of the whole; of one or two + States than of the Union. Not a single Indian war has yet been + occasioned by aggressions of the present federal government, feeble + as it is; but there are several instances of Indian hostilities + having been provoked by the improper conduct of individual States, + who, either unable or unwilling to restrain or punish offenses, have + given occasion to the slaughter of many innocent inhabitants. +The neighborhood of Spanish and British territories, bordering + on some States and not on others, naturally confines the causes of + quarrel more immediately to the borderers. The bordering States, if + any, will be those who, under the impulse of sudden irritation, and + a quick sense of apparent interest or injury, will be most likely, + by direct violence, to excite war with these nations; and nothing + can so effectually obviate that danger as a national government, + whose wisdom and prudence will not be diminished by the passions + which actuate the parties immediately interested. +But not only fewer just causes of war will be given by the + national government, but it will also be more in their power to + accommodate and settle them amicably. They will be more temperate + and cool, and in that respect, as well as in others, will be more in + capacity to act advisedly than the offending State. The pride of + states, as well as of men, naturally disposes them to justify all + their actions, and opposes their acknowledging, correcting, or + repairing their errors and offenses. The national government, in + such cases, will not be affected by this pride, but will proceed + with moderation and candor to consider and decide on the means most + proper to extricate them from the difficulties which threaten them. +Besides, it is well known that acknowledgments, explanations, + and compensations are often accepted as satisfactory from a strong + united nation, which would be rejected as unsatisfactory if offered + by a State or confederacy of little consideration or power. +In the year 1685, the state of Genoa having offended Louis XIV., + endeavored to appease him. He demanded that they should send their + Doge, or chief magistrate, accompanied by four of their + senators, to FRANCE, to ask his pardon and receive his terms. They + were obliged to submit to it for the sake of peace. Would he on any + occasion either have demanded or have received the like humiliation + from Spain, or Britain, or any other POWERFUL nation? +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 4 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) +For the Independent Journal. + +JAY + +To the People of the State of New York: +MY LAST paper assigned several reasons why the safety of the + people would be best secured by union against the danger it may be + exposed to by JUST causes of war given to other nations; and those + reasons show that such causes would not only be more rarely given, + but would also be more easily accommodated, by a national government + than either by the State governments or the proposed little + confederacies. +But the safety of the people of America against dangers from + FOREIGN force depends not only on their forbearing to give JUST + causes of war to other nations, but also on their placing and + continuing themselves in such a situation as not to INVITE hostility + or insult; for it need not be observed that there are PRETENDED as + well as just causes of war. +It is too true, however disgraceful it may be to human nature, + that nations in general will make war whenever they have a prospect + of getting anything by it; nay, absolute monarchs will often make + war when their nations are to get nothing by it, but for the + purposes and objects merely personal, such as thirst for military + glory, revenge for personal affronts, ambition, or private compacts + to aggrandize or support their particular families or partisans. + These and a variety of other motives, which affect only the mind of + the sovereign, often lead him to engage in wars not sanctified by + justice or the voice and interests of his people. But, independent + of these inducements to war, which are more prevalent in absolute + monarchies, but which well deserve our attention, there are others + which affect nations as often as kings; and some of them will on + examination be found to grow out of our relative situation and + circumstances. +With France and with Britain we are rivals in the fisheries, and + can supply their markets cheaper than they can themselves, + notwithstanding any efforts to prevent it by bounties on their own + or duties on foreign fish. +With them and with most other European nations we are rivals in + navigation and the carrying trade; and we shall deceive ourselves + if we suppose that any of them will rejoice to see it flourish; + for, as our carrying trade cannot increase without in some degree + diminishing theirs, it is more their interest, and will be more + their policy, to restrain than to promote it. +In the trade to China and India, we interfere with more than one + nation, inasmuch as it enables us to partake in advantages which + they had in a manner monopolized, and as we thereby supply ourselves + with commodities which we used to purchase from them. +The extension of our own commerce in our own vessels cannot give + pleasure to any nations who possess territories on or near this + continent, because the cheapness and excellence of our productions, + added to the circumstance of vicinity, and the enterprise and + address of our merchants and navigators, will give us a greater + share in the advantages which those territories afford, than + consists with the wishes or policy of their respective sovereigns. +Spain thinks it convenient to shut the Mississippi against us on + the one side, and Britain excludes us from the Saint Lawrence on the + other; nor will either of them permit the other waters which are + between them and us to become the means of mutual intercourse and + traffic. +From these and such like considerations, which might, if + consistent with prudence, be more amplified and detailed, it is easy + to see that jealousies and uneasinesses may gradually slide into the + minds and cabinets of other nations, and that we are not to expect + that they should regard our advancement in union, in power and + consequence by land and by sea, with an eye of indifference and + composure. +The people of America are aware that inducements to war may + arise out of these circumstances, as well as from others not so + obvious at present, and that whenever such inducements may find fit + time and opportunity for operation, pretenses to color and justify + them will not be wanting. Wisely, therefore, do they consider union + and a good national government as necessary to put and keep them in + SUCH A SITUATION as, instead of INVITING war, will tend to repress + and discourage it. That situation consists in the best possible + state of defense, and necessarily depends on the government, the + arms, and the resources of the country. +As the safety of the whole is the interest of the whole, and + cannot be provided for without government, either one or more or + many, let us inquire whether one good government is not, relative to + the object in question, more competent than any other given number + whatever. +One government can collect and avail itself of the talents and + experience of the ablest men, in whatever part of the Union they may + be found. It can move on uniform principles of policy. It can + harmonize, assimilate, and protect the several parts and members, + and extend the benefit of its foresight and precautions to each. In + the formation of treaties, it will regard the interest of the whole, + and the particular interests of the parts as connected with that of + the whole. It can apply the resources and power of the whole to the + defense of any particular part, and that more easily and + expeditiously than State governments or separate confederacies can + possibly do, for want of concert and unity of system. It can place + the militia under one plan of discipline, and, by putting their + officers in a proper line of subordination to the Chief Magistrate, + will, as it were, consolidate them into one corps, and thereby + render them more efficient than if divided into thirteen or into + three or four distinct independent companies. +What would the militia of Britain be if the English militia + obeyed the government of England, if the Scotch militia obeyed the + government of Scotland, and if the Welsh militia obeyed the + government of Wales? Suppose an invasion; would those three + governments (if they agreed at all) be able, with all their + respective forces, to operate against the enemy so effectually as + the single government of Great Britain would? +We have heard much of the fleets of Britain, and the time may + come, if we are wise, when the fleets of America may engage + attention. But if one national government, had not so regulated the + navigation of Britain as to make it a nursery for seamen--if one + national government had not called forth all the national means and + materials for forming fleets, their prowess and their thunder would + never have been celebrated. Let England have its navigation and + fleet--let Scotland have its navigation and fleet--let Wales have its + navigation and fleet--let Ireland have its navigation and fleet--let + those four of the constituent parts of the British empire be + under four independent governments, and it is easy to perceive how + soon they would each dwindle into comparative insignificance. +Apply these facts to our own case. Leave America divided into + thirteen or, if you please, into three or four independent + governments--what armies could they raise and pay--what fleets could + they ever hope to have? If one was attacked, would the others fly + to its succor, and spend their blood and money in its defense? + Would there be no danger of their being flattered into neutrality + by its specious promises, or seduced by a too great fondness for + peace to decline hazarding their tranquillity and present safety for + the sake of neighbors, of whom perhaps they have been jealous, and + whose importance they are content to see diminished? Although such + conduct would not be wise, it would, nevertheless, be natural. The + history of the states of Greece, and of other countries, abounds + with such instances, and it is not improbable that what has so often + happened would, under similar circumstances, happen again. +But admit that they might be willing to help the invaded State + or confederacy. How, and when, and in what proportion shall aids of + men and money be afforded? Who shall command the allied armies, and + from which of them shall he receive his orders? Who shall settle + the terms of peace, and in case of disputes what umpire shall decide + between them and compel acquiescence? Various difficulties and + inconveniences would be inseparable from such a situation; whereas + one government, watching over the general and common interests, and + combining and directing the powers and resources of the whole, would + be free from all these embarrassments, and conduce far more to the + safety of the people. +But whatever may be our situation, whether firmly united under + one national government, or split into a number of confederacies, + certain it is, that foreign nations will know and view it exactly as + it is; and they will act toward us accordingly. If they see that + our national government is efficient and well administered, our + trade prudently regulated, our militia properly organized and + disciplined, our resources and finances discreetly managed, our + credit re-established, our people free, contented, and united, they + will be much more disposed to cultivate our friendship than provoke + our resentment. If, on the other hand, they find us either + destitute of an effectual government (each State doing right or + wrong, as to its rulers may seem convenient), or split into three or + four independent and probably discordant republics or confederacies, + one inclining to Britain, another to France, and a third to Spain, + and perhaps played off against each other by the three, what a poor, + pitiful figure will America make in their eyes! How liable would + she become not only to their contempt but to their outrage, and how + soon would dear-bought experience proclaim that when a people or + family so divide, it never fails to be against themselves. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 5 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning Dangers From Foreign Force and Influence) +For the Independent Journal. + +JAY + +To the People of the State of New York: +QUEEN ANNE, in her letter of the 1st July, 1706, to the Scotch + Parliament, makes some observations on the importance of the UNION + then forming between England and Scotland, which merit our attention. + I shall present the public with one or two extracts from it: ``An + entire and perfect union will be the solid foundation of lasting + peace: It will secure your religion, liberty, and property; remove + the animosities amongst yourselves, and the jealousies and + differences betwixt our two kingdoms. It must increase your + strength, riches, and trade; and by this union the whole island, + being joined in affection and free from all apprehensions of + different interest, will be ENABLED TO RESIST ALL ITS ENEMIES.'' + ``We most earnestly recommend to you calmness and unanimity in this + great and weighty affair, that the union may be brought to a happy + conclusion, being the only EFFECTUAL way to secure our present and + future happiness, and disappoint the designs of our and your + enemies, who will doubtless, on this occasion, USE THEIR UTMOST + ENDEAVORS TO PREVENT OR DELAY THIS UNION.'' +It was remarked in the preceding paper, that weakness and + divisions at home would invite dangers from abroad; and that + nothing would tend more to secure us from them than union, strength, + and good government within ourselves. This subject is copious and + cannot easily be exhausted. +The history of Great Britain is the one with which we are in + general the best acquainted, and it gives us many useful lessons. + We may profit by their experience without paying the price which it + cost them. Although it seems obvious to common sense that the + people of such an island should be but one nation, yet we find that + they were for ages divided into three, and that those three were + almost constantly embroiled in quarrels and wars with one another. + Notwithstanding their true interest with respect to the continental + nations was really the same, yet by the arts and policy and + practices of those nations, their mutual jealousies were perpetually + kept inflamed, and for a long series of years they were far more + inconvenient and troublesome than they were useful and assisting to + each other. +Should the people of America divide themselves into three or + four nations, would not the same thing happen? Would not similar + jealousies arise, and be in like manner cherished? Instead of their + being ``joined in affection'' and free from all apprehension of + different ``interests,'' envy and jealousy would soon extinguish + confidence and affection, and the partial interests of each + confederacy, instead of the general interests of all America, would + be the only objects of their policy and pursuits. Hence, like most + other BORDERING nations, they would always be either involved in + disputes and war, or live in the constant apprehension of them. +The most sanguine advocates for three or four confederacies + cannot reasonably suppose that they would long remain exactly on an + equal footing in point of strength, even if it was possible to form + them so at first; but, admitting that to be practicable, yet what + human contrivance can secure the continuance of such equality? + Independent of those local circumstances which tend to beget and + increase power in one part and to impede its progress in another, we + must advert to the effects of that superior policy and good + management which would probably distinguish the government of one + above the rest, and by which their relative equality in strength and + consideration would be destroyed. For it cannot be presumed that + the same degree of sound policy, prudence, and foresight would + uniformly be observed by each of these confederacies for a long + succession of years. +Whenever, and from whatever causes, it might happen, and happen + it would, that any one of these nations or confederacies should rise + on the scale of political importance much above the degree of her + neighbors, that moment would those neighbors behold her with envy + and with fear. Both those passions would lead them to countenance, + if not to promote, whatever might promise to diminish her + importance; and would also restrain them from measures calculated + to advance or even to secure her prosperity. Much time would not be + necessary to enable her to discern these unfriendly dispositions. + She would soon begin, not only to lose confidence in her neighbors, + but also to feel a disposition equally unfavorable to them. + Distrust naturally creates distrust, and by nothing is good-will + and kind conduct more speedily changed than by invidious jealousies + and uncandid imputations, whether expressed or implied. +The North is generally the region of strength, and many local + circumstances render it probable that the most Northern of the + proposed confederacies would, at a period not very distant, be + unquestionably more formidable than any of the others. No sooner + would this become evident than the NORTHERN HIVE would excite the + same ideas and sensations in the more southern parts of America + which it formerly did in the southern parts of Europe. Nor does it + appear to be a rash conjecture that its young swarms might often be + tempted to gather honey in the more blooming fields and milder air + of their luxurious and more delicate neighbors. +They who well consider the history of similar divisions and + confederacies will find abundant reason to apprehend that those in + contemplation would in no other sense be neighbors than as they + would be borderers; that they would neither love nor trust one + another, but on the contrary would be a prey to discord, jealousy, + and mutual injuries; in short, that they would place us exactly in + the situations in which some nations doubtless wish to see us, viz., + FORMIDABLE ONLY TO EACH OTHER. +From these considerations it appears that those gentlemen are + greatly mistaken who suppose that alliances offensive and defensive + might be formed between these confederacies, and would produce that + combination and union of wills of arms and of resources, which would + be necessary to put and keep them in a formidable state of defense + against foreign enemies. +When did the independent states, into which Britain and Spain + were formerly divided, combine in such alliance, or unite their + forces against a foreign enemy? The proposed confederacies will be + DISTINCT NATIONS. Each of them would have its commerce with + foreigners to regulate by distinct treaties; and as their + productions and commodities are different and proper for different + markets, so would those treaties be essentially different. + Different commercial concerns must create different interests, and + of course different degrees of political attachment to and + connection with different foreign nations. Hence it might and + probably would happen that the foreign nation with whom the SOUTHERN + confederacy might be at war would be the one with whom the NORTHERN + confederacy would be the most desirous of preserving peace and + friendship. An alliance so contrary to their immediate interest + would not therefore be easy to form, nor, if formed, would it be + observed and fulfilled with perfect good faith. +Nay, it is far more probable that in America, as in Europe, + neighboring nations, acting under the impulse of opposite interests + and unfriendly passions, would frequently be found taking different + sides. Considering our distance from Europe, it would be more + natural for these confederacies to apprehend danger from one another + than from distant nations, and therefore that each of them should be + more desirous to guard against the others by the aid of foreign + alliances, than to guard against foreign dangers by alliances + between themselves. And here let us not forget how much more easy + it is to receive foreign fleets into our ports, and foreign armies + into our country, than it is to persuade or compel them to depart. + How many conquests did the Romans and others make in the characters + of allies, and what innovations did they under the same character + introduce into the governments of those whom they pretended to + protect. +Let candid men judge, then, whether the division of America into + any given number of independent sovereignties would tend to secure + us against the hostilities and improper interference of foreign + nations. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 6 + +Concerning Dangers from Dissensions Between the States +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE three last numbers of this paper have been dedicated to an + enumeration of the dangers to which we should be exposed, in a state + of disunion, from the arms and arts of foreign nations. I shall now + proceed to delineate dangers of a different and, perhaps, still more + alarming kind--those which will in all probability flow from + dissensions between the States themselves, and from domestic + factions and convulsions. These have been already in some instances + slightly anticipated; but they deserve a more particular and more + full investigation. +A man must be far gone in Utopian speculations who can seriously + doubt that, if these States should either be wholly disunited, or + only united in partial confederacies, the subdivisions into which + they might be thrown would have frequent and violent contests with + each other. To presume a want of motives for such contests as an + argument against their existence, would be to forget that men are + ambitious, vindictive, and rapacious. To look for a continuation of + harmony between a number of independent, unconnected sovereignties + in the same neighborhood, would be to disregard the uniform course + of human events, and to set at defiance the accumulated experience + of ages. +The causes of hostility among nations are innumerable. There + are some which have a general and almost constant operation upon the + collective bodies of society. Of this description are the love of + power or the desire of pre-eminence and dominion--the jealousy of + power, or the desire of equality and safety. There are others which + have a more circumscribed though an equally operative influence + within their spheres. Such are the rivalships and competitions of + commerce between commercial nations. And there are others, not less + numerous than either of the former, which take their origin entirely + in private passions; in the attachments, enmities, interests, + hopes, and fears of leading individuals in the communities of which + they are members. Men of this class, whether the favorites of a + king or of a people, have in too many instances abused the + confidence they possessed; and assuming the pretext of some public + motive, have not scrupled to sacrifice the national tranquillity to + personal advantage or personal gratification. +The celebrated Pericles, in compliance with the resentment of a + prostitute,1 at the expense of much of the blood and treasure of + his countrymen, attacked, vanquished, and destroyed the city of the + SAMNIANS. The same man, stimulated by private pique against the + MEGARENSIANS,2 another nation of Greece, or to avoid a + prosecution with which he was threatened as an accomplice of a + supposed theft of the statuary Phidias,3 or to get rid of the + accusations prepared to be brought against him for dissipating the + funds of the state in the purchase of popularity,4 or from a + combination of all these causes, was the primitive author of that + famous and fatal war, distinguished in the Grecian annals by the + name of the PELOPONNESIAN war; which, after various vicissitudes, + intermissions, and renewals, terminated in the ruin of the Athenian + commonwealth. +The ambitious cardinal, who was prime minister to Henry VIII., + permitting his vanity to aspire to the triple crown,5 + entertained hopes of succeeding in the acquisition of that splendid + prize by the influence of the Emperor Charles V. To secure the + favor and interest of this enterprising and powerful monarch, he + precipitated England into a war with France, contrary to the + plainest dictates of policy, and at the hazard of the safety and + independence, as well of the kingdom over which he presided by his + counsels, as of Europe in general. For if there ever was a + sovereign who bid fair to realize the project of universal monarchy, + it was the Emperor Charles V., of whose intrigues Wolsey was at once + the instrument and the dupe. +The influence which the bigotry of one female,6 the + petulance of another,7 and the cabals of a third,8 had in + the contemporary policy, ferments, and pacifications, of a + considerable part of Europe, are topics that have been too often + descanted upon not to be generally known. +To multiply examples of the agency of personal considerations in + the production of great national events, either foreign or domestic, + according to their direction, would be an unnecessary waste of time. + Those who have but a superficial acquaintance with the sources from + which they are to be drawn, will themselves recollect a variety of + instances; and those who have a tolerable knowledge of human nature + will not stand in need of such lights to form their opinion either + of the reality or extent of that agency. Perhaps, however, a + reference, tending to illustrate the general principle, may with + propriety be made to a case which has lately happened among + ourselves. If Shays had not been a DESPERATE DEBTOR, it is much to + be doubted whether Massachusetts would have been plunged into a + civil war. +But notwithstanding the concurring testimony of experience, in + this particular, there are still to be found visionary or designing + men, who stand ready to advocate the paradox of perpetual peace + between the States, though dismembered and alienated from each other. + The genius of republics (say they) is pacific; the spirit of + commerce has a tendency to soften the manners of men, and to + extinguish those inflammable humors which have so often kindled into + wars. Commercial republics, like ours, will never be disposed to + waste themselves in ruinous contentions with each other. They will + be governed by mutual interest, and will cultivate a spirit of + mutual amity and concord. +Is it not (we may ask these projectors in politics) the true + interest of all nations to cultivate the same benevolent and + philosophic spirit? If this be their true interest, have they in + fact pursued it? Has it not, on the contrary, invariably been found + that momentary passions, and immediate interest, have a more active + and imperious control over human conduct than general or remote + considerations of policy, utility or justice? Have republics in + practice been less addicted to war than monarchies? Are not the + former administered by MEN as well as the latter? Are there not + aversions, predilections, rivalships, and desires of unjust + acquisitions, that affect nations as well as kings? Are not popular + assemblies frequently subject to the impulses of rage, resentment, + jealousy, avarice, and of other irregular and violent propensities? + Is it not well known that their determinations are often governed + by a few individuals in whom they place confidence, and are, of + course, liable to be tinctured by the passions and views of those + individuals? Has commerce hitherto done anything more than change + the objects of war? Is not the love of wealth as domineering and + enterprising a passion as that of power or glory? Have there not + been as many wars founded upon commercial motives since that has + become the prevailing system of nations, as were before occasioned + by the cupidity of territory or dominion? Has not the spirit of + commerce, in many instances, administered new incentives to the + appetite, both for the one and for the other? Let experience, the + least fallible guide of human opinions, be appealed to for an answer + to these inquiries. +Sparta, Athens, Rome, and Carthage were all republics; two of + them, Athens and Carthage, of the commercial kind. Yet were they as + often engaged in wars, offensive and defensive, as the neighboring + monarchies of the same times. Sparta was little better than a + wellregulated camp; and Rome was never sated of carnage and + conquest. +Carthage, though a commercial republic, was the aggressor in the + very war that ended in her destruction. Hannibal had carried her + arms into the heart of Italy and to the gates of Rome, before + Scipio, in turn, gave him an overthrow in the territories of + Carthage, and made a conquest of the commonwealth. +Venice, in later times, figured more than once in wars of + ambition, till, becoming an object to the other Italian states, Pope + Julius II. found means to accomplish that formidable league,9 + which gave a deadly blow to the power and pride of this haughty + republic. +The provinces of Holland, till they were overwhelmed in debts + and taxes, took a leading and conspicuous part in the wars of Europe. + They had furious contests with England for the dominion of the + sea, and were among the most persevering and most implacable of the + opponents of Louis XIV. +In the government of Britain the representatives of the people + compose one branch of the national legislature. Commerce has been + for ages the predominant pursuit of that country. Few nations, + nevertheless, have been more frequently engaged in war; and the + wars in which that kingdom has been engaged have, in numerous + instances, proceeded from the people. +There have been, if I may so express it, almost as many popular + as royal wars. The cries of the nation and the importunities of + their representatives have, upon various occasions, dragged their + monarchs into war, or continued them in it, contrary to their + inclinations, and sometimes contrary to the real interests of the + State. In that memorable struggle for superiority between the rival + houses of AUSTRIA and BOURBON, which so long kept Europe in a flame, + it is well known that the antipathies of the English against the + French, seconding the ambition, or rather the avarice, of a favorite + leader,10 protracted the war beyond the limits marked out by + sound policy, and for a considerable time in opposition to the views + of the court. +The wars of these two last-mentioned nations have in a great + measure grown out of commercial considerations,--the desire of + supplanting and the fear of being supplanted, either in particular + branches of traffic or in the general advantages of trade and + navigation. +From this summary of what has taken place in other countries, + whose situations have borne the nearest resemblance to our own, what + reason can we have to confide in those reveries which would seduce + us into an expectation of peace and cordiality between the members + of the present confederacy, in a state of separation? Have we not + already seen enough of the fallacy and extravagance of those idle + theories which have amused us with promises of an exemption from the + imperfections, weaknesses and evils incident to society in every + shape? Is it not time to awake from the deceitful dream of a golden + age, and to adopt as a practical maxim for the direction of our + political conduct that we, as well as the other inhabitants of the + globe, are yet remote from the happy empire of perfect wisdom and + perfect virtue? +Let the point of extreme depression to which our national + dignity and credit have sunk, let the inconveniences felt everywhere + from a lax and ill administration of government, let the revolt of a + part of the State of North Carolina, the late menacing disturbances + in Pennsylvania, and the actual insurrections and rebellions in + Massachusetts, declare--! +So far is the general sense of mankind from corresponding with + the tenets of those who endeavor to lull asleep our apprehensions of + discord and hostility between the States, in the event of disunion, + that it has from long observation of the progress of society become + a sort of axiom in politics, that vicinity or nearness of situation, + constitutes nations natural enemies. An intelligent writer + expresses himself on this subject to this effect: ``NEIGHBORING + NATIONS (says he) are naturally enemies of each other unless their + common weakness forces them to league in a CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC, and + their constitution prevents the differences that neighborhood + occasions, extinguishing that secret jealousy which disposes all + states to aggrandize themselves at the expense of their + neighbors.''11 This passage, at the same time, points out the + EVIL and suggests the REMEDY. +PUBLIUS. +1 Aspasia, vide ``Plutarch's Life of Pericles.'' +2 Ibid. +3 Ibid. +4 ] Ibid. Phidias was supposed to have stolen some public + gold, with the connivance of Pericles, for the embellishment of the + statue of Minerva. +5 P Worn by the popes. +6 Madame de Maintenon. +7 Duchess of Marlborough. +8 Madame de Pompadour. +9 The League of Cambray, comprehending the Emperor, the King of + France, the King of Aragon, and most of the Italian princes and + states. +10 The Duke of Marlborough. +11 Vide ``Principes des Negociations'' par l'Abbe de Mably. + + +FEDERALIST. No. 7 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning Dangers from Dissensions Between the States) +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT IS sometimes asked, with an air of seeming triumph, what + inducements could the States have, if disunited, to make war upon + each other? It would be a full answer to this question to + say--precisely the same inducements which have, at different times, + deluged in blood all the nations in the world. But, unfortunately + for us, the question admits of a more particular answer. There are + causes of differences within our immediate contemplation, of the + tendency of which, even under the restraints of a federal + constitution, we have had sufficient experience to enable us to form + a judgment of what might be expected if those restraints were + removed. +Territorial disputes have at all times been found one of the + most fertile sources of hostility among nations. Perhaps the + greatest proportion of wars that have desolated the earth have + sprung from this origin. This cause would exist among us in full + force. We have a vast tract of unsettled territory within the + boundaries of the United States. There still are discordant and + undecided claims between several of them, and the dissolution of the + Union would lay a foundation for similar claims between them all. + It is well known that they have heretofore had serious and animated + discussion concerning the rights to the lands which were ungranted + at the time of the Revolution, and which usually went under the name + of crown lands. The States within the limits of whose colonial + governments they were comprised have claimed them as their property, + the others have contended that the rights of the crown in this + article devolved upon the Union; especially as to all that part of + the Western territory which, either by actual possession, or through + the submission of the Indian proprietors, was subjected to the + jurisdiction of the king of Great Britain, till it was relinquished + in the treaty of peace. This, it has been said, was at all events + an acquisition to the Confederacy by compact with a foreign power. + It has been the prudent policy of Congress to appease this + controversy, by prevailing upon the States to make cessions to the + United States for the benefit of the whole. This has been so far + accomplished as, under a continuation of the Union, to afford a + decided prospect of an amicable termination of the dispute. A + dismemberment of the Confederacy, however, would revive this + dispute, and would create others on the same subject. At present, a + large part of the vacant Western territory is, by cession at least, + if not by any anterior right, the common property of the Union. If + that were at an end, the States which made the cession, on a + principle of federal compromise, would be apt when the motive of the + grant had ceased, to reclaim the lands as a reversion. The other + States would no doubt insist on a proportion, by right of + representation. Their argument would be, that a grant, once made, + could not be revoked; and that the justice of participating in + territory acquired or secured by the joint efforts of the + Confederacy, remained undiminished. If, contrary to probability, it + should be admitted by all the States, that each had a right to a + share of this common stock, there would still be a difficulty to be + surmounted, as to a proper rule of apportionment. Different + principles would be set up by different States for this purpose; + and as they would affect the opposite interests of the parties, + they might not easily be susceptible of a pacific adjustment. +In the wide field of Western territory, therefore, we perceive + an ample theatre for hostile pretensions, without any umpire or + common judge to interpose between the contending parties. To reason + from the past to the future, we shall have good ground to apprehend, + that the sword would sometimes be appealed to as the arbiter of + their differences. The circumstances of the dispute between + Connecticut and Pennsylvania, respecting the land at Wyoming, + admonish us not to be sanguine in expecting an easy accommodation of + such differences. The articles of confederation obliged the parties + to submit the matter to the decision of a federal court. The + submission was made, and the court decided in favor of Pennsylvania. + But Connecticut gave strong indications of dissatisfaction with + that determination; nor did she appear to be entirely resigned to + it, till, by negotiation and management, something like an + equivalent was found for the loss she supposed herself to have + sustained. Nothing here said is intended to convey the slightest + censure on the conduct of that State. She no doubt sincerely + believed herself to have been injured by the decision; and States, + like individuals, acquiesce with great reluctance in determinations + to their disadvantage. +Those who had an opportunity of seeing the inside of the + transactions which attended the progress of the controversy between + this State and the district of Vermont, can vouch the opposition we + experienced, as well from States not interested as from those which + were interested in the claim; and can attest the danger to which + the peace of the Confederacy might have been exposed, had this State + attempted to assert its rights by force. Two motives preponderated + in that opposition: one, a jealousy entertained of our future + power; and the other, the interest of certain individuals of + influence in the neighboring States, who had obtained grants of + lands under the actual government of that district. Even the States + which brought forward claims, in contradiction to ours, seemed more + solicitous to dismember this State, than to establish their own + pretensions. These were New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and + Connecticut. New Jersey and Rhode Island, upon all occasions, + discovered a warm zeal for the independence of Vermont; and + Maryland, till alarmed by the appearance of a connection between + Canada and that State, entered deeply into the same views. These + being small States, saw with an unfriendly eye the perspective of + our growing greatness. In a review of these transactions we may + trace some of the causes which would be likely to embroil the States + with each other, if it should be their unpropitious destiny to + become disunited. +The competitions of commerce would be another fruitful source of + contention. The States less favorably circumstanced would be + desirous of escaping from the disadvantages of local situation, and + of sharing in the advantages of their more fortunate neighbors. + Each State, or separate confederacy, would pursue a system of + commercial policy peculiar to itself. This would occasion + distinctions, preferences, and exclusions, which would beget + discontent. The habits of intercourse, on the basis of equal + privileges, to which we have been accustomed since the earliest + settlement of the country, would give a keener edge to those causes + of discontent than they would naturally have independent of this + circumstance. WE SHOULD BE READY TO DENOMINATE INJURIES THOSE + THINGS WHICH WERE IN REALITY THE JUSTIFIABLE ACTS OF INDEPENDENT + SOVEREIGNTIES CONSULTING A DISTINCT INTEREST. The spirit of + enterprise, which characterizes the commercial part of America, has + left no occasion of displaying itself unimproved. It is not at all + probable that this unbridled spirit would pay much respect to those + regulations of trade by which particular States might endeavor to + secure exclusive benefits to their own citizens. The infractions of + these regulations, on one side, the efforts to prevent and repel + them, on the other, would naturally lead to outrages, and these to + reprisals and wars. +The opportunities which some States would have of rendering + others tributary to them by commercial regulations would be + impatiently submitted to by the tributary States. The relative + situation of New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey would afford an + example of this kind. New York, from the necessities of revenue, + must lay duties on her importations. A great part of these duties + must be paid by the inhabitants of the two other States in the + capacity of consumers of what we import. New York would neither be + willing nor able to forego this advantage. Her citizens would not + consent that a duty paid by them should be remitted in favor of the + citizens of her neighbors; nor would it be practicable, if there + were not this impediment in the way, to distinguish the customers in + our own markets. Would Connecticut and New Jersey long submit to be + taxed by New York for her exclusive benefit? Should we be long + permitted to remain in the quiet and undisturbed enjoyment of a + metropolis, from the possession of which we derived an advantage so + odious to our neighbors, and, in their opinion, so oppressive? + Should we be able to preserve it against the incumbent weight of + Connecticut on the one side, and the co-operating pressure of New + Jersey on the other? These are questions that temerity alone will + answer in the affirmative. +The public debt of the Union would be a further cause of + collision between the separate States or confederacies. The + apportionment, in the first instance, and the progressive + extinguishment afterward, would be alike productive of ill-humor and + animosity. How would it be possible to agree upon a rule of + apportionment satisfactory to all? There is scarcely any that can + be proposed which is entirely free from real objections. These, as + usual, would be exaggerated by the adverse interest of the parties. + There are even dissimilar views among the States as to the general + principle of discharging the public debt. Some of them, either less + impressed with the importance of national credit, or because their + citizens have little, if any, immediate interest in the question, + feel an indifference, if not a repugnance, to the payment of the + domestic debt at any rate. These would be inclined to magnify the + difficulties of a distribution. Others of them, a numerous body of + whose citizens are creditors to the public beyond proportion of the + State in the total amount of the national debt, would be strenuous + for some equitable and effective provision. The procrastinations of + the former would excite the resentments of the latter. The + settlement of a rule would, in the meantime, be postponed by real + differences of opinion and affected delays. The citizens of the + States interested would clamour; foreign powers would urge for the + satisfaction of their just demands, and the peace of the States + would be hazarded to the double contingency of external invasion and + internal contention. +Suppose the difficulties of agreeing upon a rule surmounted, and + the apportionment made. Still there is great room to suppose that + the rule agreed upon would, upon experiment, be found to bear harder + upon some States than upon others. Those which were sufferers by it + would naturally seek for a mitigation of the burden. The others + would as naturally be disinclined to a revision, which was likely to + end in an increase of their own incumbrances. Their refusal would + be too plausible a pretext to the complaining States to withhold + their contributions, not to be embraced with avidity; and the + non-compliance of these States with their engagements would be a + ground of bitter discussion and altercation. If even the rule + adopted should in practice justify the equality of its principle, + still delinquencies in payments on the part of some of the States + would result from a diversity of other causes--the real deficiency of + resources; the mismanagement of their finances; accidental + disorders in the management of the government; and, in addition to + the rest, the reluctance with which men commonly part with money for + purposes that have outlived the exigencies which produced them, and + interfere with the supply of immediate wants. Delinquencies, from + whatever causes, would be productive of complaints, recriminations, + and quarrels. There is, perhaps, nothing more likely to disturb the + tranquillity of nations than their being bound to mutual + contributions for any common object that does not yield an equal and + coincident benefit. For it is an observation, as true as it is + trite, that there is nothing men differ so readily about as the + payment of money. +Laws in violation of private contracts, as they amount to + aggressions on the rights of those States whose citizens are injured + by them, may be considered as another probable source of hostility. + We are not authorized to expect that a more liberal or more + equitable spirit would preside over the legislations of the + individual States hereafter, if unrestrained by any additional + checks, than we have heretofore seen in too many instances + disgracing their several codes. We have observed the disposition to + retaliation excited in Connecticut in consequence of the enormities + perpetrated by the Legislature of Rhode Island; and we reasonably + infer that, in similar cases, under other circumstances, a war, not + of PARCHMENT, but of the sword, would chastise such atrocious + breaches of moral obligation and social justice. +The probability of incompatible alliances between the different + States or confederacies and different foreign nations, and the + effects of this situation upon the peace of the whole, have been + sufficiently unfolded in some preceding papers. From the view they + have exhibited of this part of the subject, this conclusion is to be + drawn, that America, if not connected at all, or only by the feeble + tie of a simple league, offensive and defensive, would, by the + operation of such jarring alliances, be gradually entangled in all + the pernicious labyrinths of European politics and wars; and by the + destructive contentions of the parts into which she was divided, + would be likely to become a prey to the artifices and machinations + of powers equally the enemies of them all. Divide et + impera1 must be the motto of every nation that either hates or + fears us.2 PUBLIUS. +1 Divide and command. +2 In order that the whole subject of these papers may as soon as + possible be laid before the public, it is proposed to publish them + four times a week--on Tuesday in the New York Packet and on + Thursday in the Daily Advertiser. + + +FEDERALIST No. 8 + +The Consequences of Hostilities Between the States +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, November 20, 1787. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +ASSUMING it therefore as an established truth that the several + States, in case of disunion, or such combinations of them as might + happen to be formed out of the wreck of the general Confederacy, + would be subject to those vicissitudes of peace and war, of + friendship and enmity, with each other, which have fallen to the lot + of all neighboring nations not united under one government, let us + enter into a concise detail of some of the consequences that would + attend such a situation. +War between the States, in the first period of their separate + existence, would be accompanied with much greater distresses than it + commonly is in those countries where regular military establishments + have long obtained. The disciplined armies always kept on foot on + the continent of Europe, though they bear a malignant aspect to + liberty and economy, have, notwithstanding, been productive of the + signal advantage of rendering sudden conquests impracticable, and of + preventing that rapid desolation which used to mark the progress of + war prior to their introduction. The art of fortification has + contributed to the same ends. The nations of Europe are encircled + with chains of fortified places, which mutually obstruct invasion. + Campaigns are wasted in reducing two or three frontier garrisons, + to gain admittance into an enemy's country. Similar impediments + occur at every step, to exhaust the strength and delay the progress + of an invader. Formerly, an invading army would penetrate into the + heart of a neighboring country almost as soon as intelligence of its + approach could be received; but now a comparatively small force of + disciplined troops, acting on the defensive, with the aid of posts, + is able to impede, and finally to frustrate, the enterprises of one + much more considerable. The history of war, in that quarter of the + globe, is no longer a history of nations subdued and empires + overturned, but of towns taken and retaken; of battles that decide + nothing; of retreats more beneficial than victories; of much + effort and little acquisition. +In this country the scene would be altogether reversed. The + jealousy of military establishments would postpone them as long as + possible. The want of fortifications, leaving the frontiers of one + state open to another, would facilitate inroads. The populous + States would, with little difficulty, overrun their less populous + neighbors. Conquests would be as easy to be made as difficult to be + retained. War, therefore, would be desultory and predatory. + PLUNDER and devastation ever march in the train of irregulars. The + calamities of individuals would make the principal figure in the + events which would characterize our military exploits. +This picture is not too highly wrought; though, I confess, it + would not long remain a just one. Safety from external danger is + the most powerful director of national conduct. Even the ardent + love of liberty will, after a time, give way to its dictates. The + violent destruction of life and property incident to war, the + continual effort and alarm attendant on a state of continual danger, + will compel nations the most attached to liberty to resort for + repose and security to institutions which have a tendency to destroy + their civil and political rights. To be more safe, they at length + become willing to run the risk of being less free. +The institutions chiefly alluded to are STANDING ARMIES and the + correspondent appendages of military establishments. Standing + armies, it is said, are not provided against in the new + Constitution; and it is therefore inferred that they may exist + under it.1 Their existence, however, from the very terms of the + proposition, is, at most, problematical and uncertain. But standing + armies, it may be replied, must inevitably result from a dissolution + of the Confederacy. Frequent war and constant apprehension, which + require a state of as constant preparation, will infallibly produce + them. The weaker States or confederacies would first have recourse + to them, to put themselves upon an equality with their more potent + neighbors. They would endeavor to supply the inferiority of + population and resources by a more regular and effective system of + defense, by disciplined troops, and by fortifications. They would, + at the same time, be necessitated to strengthen the executive arm of + government, in doing which their constitutions would acquire a + progressive direction toward monarchy. It is of the nature of war + to increase the executive at the expense of the legislative + authority. +The expedients which have been mentioned would soon give the + States or confederacies that made use of them a superiority over + their neighbors. Small states, or states of less natural strength, + under vigorous governments, and with the assistance of disciplined + armies, have often triumphed over large states, or states of greater + natural strength, which have been destitute of these advantages. + Neither the pride nor the safety of the more important States or + confederacies would permit them long to submit to this mortifying + and adventitious superiority. They would quickly resort to means + similar to those by which it had been effected, to reinstate + themselves in their lost pre-eminence. Thus, we should, in a little + time, see established in every part of this country the same engines + of despotism which have been the scourge of the Old World. This, at + least, would be the natural course of things; and our reasonings + will be the more likely to be just, in proportion as they are + accommodated to this standard. +These are not vague inferences drawn from supposed or + speculative defects in a Constitution, the whole power of which is + lodged in the hands of a people, or their representatives and + delegates, but they are solid conclusions, drawn from the natural + and necessary progress of human affairs. +It may, perhaps, be asked, by way of objection to this, why did + not standing armies spring up out of the contentions which so often + distracted the ancient republics of Greece? Different answers, + equally satisfactory, may be given to this question. The + industrious habits of the people of the present day, absorbed in the + pursuits of gain, and devoted to the improvements of agriculture and + commerce, are incompatible with the condition of a nation of + soldiers, which was the true condition of the people of those + republics. The means of revenue, which have been so greatly + multiplied by the increase of gold and silver and of the arts of + industry, and the science of finance, which is the offspring of + modern times, concurring with the habits of nations, have produced + an entire revolution in the system of war, and have rendered + disciplined armies, distinct from the body of the citizens, the + inseparable companions of frequent hostility. +There is a wide difference, also, between military + establishments in a country seldom exposed by its situation to + internal invasions, and in one which is often subject to them, and + always apprehensive of them. The rulers of the former can have a + good pretext, if they are even so inclined, to keep on foot armies + so numerous as must of necessity be maintained in the latter. These + armies being, in the first case, rarely, if at all, called into + activity for interior defense, the people are in no danger of being + broken to military subordination. The laws are not accustomed to + relaxations, in favor of military exigencies; the civil state + remains in full vigor, neither corrupted, nor confounded with the + principles or propensities of the other state. The smallness of the + army renders the natural strength of the community an over-match for + it; and the citizens, not habituated to look up to the military + power for protection, or to submit to its oppressions, neither love + nor fear the soldiery; they view them with a spirit of jealous + acquiescence in a necessary evil, and stand ready to resist a power + which they suppose may be exerted to the prejudice of their rights. + The army under such circumstances may usefully aid the magistrate + to suppress a small faction, or an occasional mob, or insurrection; + but it will be unable to enforce encroachments against the united + efforts of the great body of the people. +In a country in the predicament last described, the contrary of + all this happens. The perpetual menacings of danger oblige the + government to be always prepared to repel it; its armies must be + numerous enough for instant defense. The continual necessity for + their services enhances the importance of the soldier, and + proportionably degrades the condition of the citizen. The military + state becomes elevated above the civil. The inhabitants of + territories, often the theatre of war, are unavoidably subjected to + frequent infringements on their rights, which serve to weaken their + sense of those rights; and by degrees the people are brought to + consider the soldiery not only as their protectors, but as their + superiors. The transition from this disposition to that of + considering them masters, is neither remote nor difficult; but it + is very difficult to prevail upon a people under such impressions, + to make a bold or effectual resistance to usurpations supported by + the military power. +The kingdom of Great Britain falls within the first description. + An insular situation, and a powerful marine, guarding it in a great + measure against the possibility of foreign invasion, supersede the + necessity of a numerous army within the kingdom. A sufficient force + to make head against a sudden descent, till the militia could have + time to rally and embody, is all that has been deemed requisite. No + motive of national policy has demanded, nor would public opinion + have tolerated, a larger number of troops upon its domestic + establishment. There has been, for a long time past, little room + for the operation of the other causes, which have been enumerated as + the consequences of internal war. This peculiar felicity of + situation has, in a great degree, contributed to preserve the + liberty which that country to this day enjoys, in spite of the + prevalent venality and corruption. If, on the contrary, Britain had + been situated on the continent, and had been compelled, as she would + have been, by that situation, to make her military establishments at + home coextensive with those of the other great powers of Europe, + she, like them, would in all probability be, at this day, a victim + to the absolute power of a single man. 'T is possible, though not + easy, that the people of that island may be enslaved from other + causes; but it cannot be by the prowess of an army so + inconsiderable as that which has been usually kept up within the + kingdom. +If we are wise enough to preserve the Union we may for ages + enjoy an advantage similar to that of an insulated situation. + Europe is at a great distance from us. Her colonies in our + vicinity will be likely to continue too much disproportioned in + strength to be able to give us any dangerous annoyance. Extensive + military establishments cannot, in this position, be necessary to + our security. But if we should be disunited, and the integral parts + should either remain separated, or, which is most probable, should + be thrown together into two or three confederacies, we should be, in + a short course of time, in the predicament of the continental powers + of Europe --our liberties would be a prey to the means of defending + ourselves against the ambition and jealousy of each other. +This is an idea not superficial or futile, but solid and weighty. + It deserves the most serious and mature consideration of every + prudent and honest man of whatever party. If such men will make a + firm and solemn pause, and meditate dispassionately on the + importance of this interesting idea; if they will contemplate it in + all its attitudes, and trace it to all its consequences, they will + not hesitate to part with trivial objections to a Constitution, the + rejection of which would in all probability put a final period to + the Union. The airy phantoms that flit before the distempered + imaginations of some of its adversaries would quickly give place to + the more substantial forms of dangers, real, certain, and formidable. +PUBLIUS. +1 This objection will be fully examined in its proper place, and + it will be shown that the only natural precaution which could have + been taken on this subject has been taken; and a much better one + than is to be found in any constitution that has been heretofore + framed in America, most of which contain no guard at all on this + subject. + + +FEDERALIST No. 9 + +The Union as a Safeguard Against Domestic Faction and Insurrection +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +A FIRM Union will be of the utmost moment to the peace and + liberty of the States, as a barrier against domestic faction and + insurrection. It is impossible to read the history of the petty + republics of Greece and Italy without feeling sensations of horror + and disgust at the distractions with which they were continually + agitated, and at the rapid succession of revolutions by which they + were kept in a state of perpetual vibration between the extremes of + tyranny and anarchy. If they exhibit occasional calms, these only + serve as short-lived contrast to the furious storms that are to + succeed. If now and then intervals of felicity open to view, we + behold them with a mixture of regret, arising from the reflection + that the pleasing scenes before us are soon to be overwhelmed by the + tempestuous waves of sedition and party rage. If momentary rays of + glory break forth from the gloom, while they dazzle us with a + transient and fleeting brilliancy, they at the same time admonish us + to lament that the vices of government should pervert the direction + and tarnish the lustre of those bright talents and exalted + endowments for which the favored soils that produced them have been + so justly celebrated. +From the disorders that disfigure the annals of those republics + the advocates of despotism have drawn arguments, not only against + the forms of republican government, but against the very principles + of civil liberty. They have decried all free government as + inconsistent with the order of society, and have indulged themselves + in malicious exultation over its friends and partisans. Happily for + mankind, stupendous fabrics reared on the basis of liberty, which + have flourished for ages, have, in a few glorious instances, refuted + their gloomy sophisms. And, I trust, America will be the broad and + solid foundation of other edifices, not less magnificent, which will + be equally permanent monuments of their errors. +But it is not to be denied that the portraits they have sketched + of republican government were too just copies of the originals from + which they were taken. If it had been found impracticable to have + devised models of a more perfect structure, the enlightened friends + to liberty would have been obliged to abandon the cause of that + species of government as indefensible. The science of politics, + however, like most other sciences, has received great improvement. + The efficacy of various principles is now well understood, which + were either not known at all, or imperfectly known to the ancients. + The regular distribution of power into distinct departments; the + introduction of legislative balances and checks; the institution of + courts composed of judges holding their offices during good + behavior; the representation of the people in the legislature by + deputies of their own election: these are wholly new discoveries, + or have made their principal progress towards perfection in modern + times. They are means, and powerful means, by which the excellences + of republican government may be retained and its imperfections + lessened or avoided. To this catalogue of circumstances that tend + to the amelioration of popular systems of civil government, I shall + venture, however novel it may appear to some, to add one more, on a + principle which has been made the foundation of an objection to the + new Constitution; I mean the ENLARGEMENT of the ORBIT within which + such systems are to revolve, either in respect to the dimensions of + a single State or to the consolidation of several smaller States + into one great Confederacy. The latter is that which immediately + concerns the object under consideration. It will, however, be of + use to examine the principle in its application to a single State, + which shall be attended to in another place. +The utility of a Confederacy, as well to suppress faction and to + guard the internal tranquillity of States, as to increase their + external force and security, is in reality not a new idea. It has + been practiced upon in different countries and ages, and has + received the sanction of the most approved writers on the subject of + politics. The opponents of the plan proposed have, with great + assiduity, cited and circulated the observations of Montesquieu on + the necessity of a contracted territory for a republican government. + But they seem not to have been apprised of the sentiments of that + great man expressed in another part of his work, nor to have + adverted to the consequences of the principle to which they + subscribe with such ready acquiescence. +When Montesquieu recommends a small extent for republics, the + standards he had in view were of dimensions far short of the limits + of almost every one of these States. Neither Virginia, + Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, New York, North Carolina, nor Georgia + can by any means be compared with the models from which he reasoned + and to which the terms of his description apply. If we therefore + take his ideas on this point as the criterion of truth, we shall be + driven to the alternative either of taking refuge at once in the + arms of monarchy, or of splitting ourselves into an infinity of + little, jealous, clashing, tumultuous commonwealths, the wretched + nurseries of unceasing discord, and the miserable objects of + universal pity or contempt. Some of the writers who have come + forward on the other side of the question seem to have been aware of + the dilemma; and have even been bold enough to hint at the division + of the larger States as a desirable thing. Such an infatuated + policy, such a desperate expedient, might, by the multiplication of + petty offices, answer the views of men who possess not + qualifications to extend their influence beyond the narrow circles + of personal intrigue, but it could never promote the greatness or + happiness of the people of America. +Referring the examination of the principle itself to another + place, as has been already mentioned, it will be sufficient to + remark here that, in the sense of the author who has been most + emphatically quoted upon the occasion, it would only dictate a + reduction of the SIZE of the more considerable MEMBERS of the Union, + but would not militate against their being all comprehended in one + confederate government. And this is the true question, in the + discussion of which we are at present interested. +So far are the suggestions of Montesquieu from standing in + opposition to a general Union of the States, that he explicitly + treats of a CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC as the expedient for extending the + sphere of popular government, and reconciling the advantages of + monarchy with those of republicanism. +``It is very probable,'' (says he1) ``that mankind would + have been obliged at length to live constantly under the government + of a single person, had they not contrived a kind of constitution + that has all the internal advantages of a republican, together with + the external force of a monarchical government. I mean a + CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC. +``This form of government is a convention by which several + smaller STATES agree to become members of a larger ONE, which they + intend to form. It is a kind of assemblage of societies that + constitute a new one, capable of increasing, by means of new + associations, till they arrive to such a degree of power as to be + able to provide for the security of the united body. +``A republic of this kind, able to withstand an external force, + may support itself without any internal corruptions. The form of + this society prevents all manner of inconveniences. +``If a single member should attempt to usurp the supreme + authority, he could not be supposed to have an equal authority and + credit in all the confederate states. Were he to have too great + influence over one, this would alarm the rest. Were he to subdue a + part, that which would still remain free might oppose him with + forces independent of those which he had usurped and overpower him + before he could be settled in his usurpation. +``Should a popular insurrection happen in one of the confederate + states the others are able to quell it. Should abuses creep into + one part, they are reformed by those that remain sound. The state + may be destroyed on one side, and not on the other; the confederacy + may be dissolved, and the confederates preserve their sovereignty. +``As this government is composed of small republics, it enjoys + the internal happiness of each; and with respect to its external + situation, it is possessed, by means of the association, of all the + advantages of large monarchies.'' +I have thought it proper to quote at length these interesting + passages, because they contain a luminous abridgment of the + principal arguments in favor of the Union, and must effectually + remove the false impressions which a misapplication of other parts + of the work was calculated to make. They have, at the same time, an + intimate connection with the more immediate design of this paper; + which is, to illustrate the tendency of the Union to repress + domestic faction and insurrection. +A distinction, more subtle than accurate, has been raised + between a CONFEDERACY and a CONSOLIDATION of the States. The + essential characteristic of the first is said to be, the restriction + of its authority to the members in their collective capacities, + without reaching to the individuals of whom they are composed. It + is contended that the national council ought to have no concern with + any object of internal administration. An exact equality of + suffrage between the members has also been insisted upon as a + leading feature of a confederate government. These positions are, + in the main, arbitrary; they are supported neither by principle nor + precedent. It has indeed happened, that governments of this kind + have generally operated in the manner which the distinction taken + notice of, supposes to be inherent in their nature; but there have + been in most of them extensive exceptions to the practice, which + serve to prove, as far as example will go, that there is no absolute + rule on the subject. And it will be clearly shown in the course of + this investigation that as far as the principle contended for has + prevailed, it has been the cause of incurable disorder and + imbecility in the government. +The definition of a CONFEDERATE REPUBLIC seems simply to be ``an + assemblage of societies,'' or an association of two or more states + into one state. The extent, modifications, and objects of the + federal authority are mere matters of discretion. So long as the + separate organization of the members be not abolished; so long as + it exists, by a constitutional necessity, for local purposes; + though it should be in perfect subordination to the general + authority of the union, it would still be, in fact and in theory, an + association of states, or a confederacy. The proposed Constitution, + so far from implying an abolition of the State governments, makes + them constituent parts of the national sovereignty, by allowing them + a direct representation in the Senate, and leaves in their + possession certain exclusive and very important portions of + sovereign power. This fully corresponds, in every rational import + of the terms, with the idea of a federal government. +In the Lycian confederacy, which consisted of twenty-three + CITIES or republics, the largest were entitled to THREE votes in the + COMMON COUNCIL, those of the middle class to TWO, and the smallest + to ONE. The COMMON COUNCIL had the appointment of all the judges + and magistrates of the respective CITIES. This was certainly the + most, delicate species of interference in their internal + administration; for if there be any thing that seems exclusively + appropriated to the local jurisdictions, it is the appointment of + their own officers. Yet Montesquieu, speaking of this association, + says: ``Were I to give a model of an excellent Confederate + Republic, it would be that of Lycia.'' Thus we perceive that the + distinctions insisted upon were not within the contemplation of this + enlightened civilian; and we shall be led to conclude, that they + are the novel refinements of an erroneous theory. +PUBLIUS. +1 ``Spirit of Lawa,'' vol. i., book ix., chap. i. + + +FEDERALIST No. 10 + +The Same Subject Continued +(The Union as a Safeguard Against Domestic Faction and + Insurrection) +From the New York Packet. +Friday, November 23, 1787. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +AMONG the numerous advantages promised by a wellconstructed + Union, none deserves to be more accurately developed than its + tendency to break and control the violence of faction. The friend + of popular governments never finds himself so much alarmed for their + character and fate, as when he contemplates their propensity to this + dangerous vice. He will not fail, therefore, to set a due value on + any plan which, without violating the principles to which he is + attached, provides a proper cure for it. The instability, + injustice, and confusion introduced into the public councils, have, + in truth, been the mortal diseases under which popular governments + have everywhere perished; as they continue to be the favorite and + fruitful topics from which the adversaries to liberty derive their + most specious declamations. The valuable improvements made by the + American constitutions on the popular models, both ancient and + modern, cannot certainly be too much admired; but it would be an + unwarrantable partiality, to contend that they have as effectually + obviated the danger on this side, as was wished and expected. + Complaints are everywhere heard from our most considerate and + virtuous citizens, equally the friends of public and private faith, + and of public and personal liberty, that our governments are too + unstable, that the public good is disregarded in the conflicts of + rival parties, and that measures are too often decided, not + according to the rules of justice and the rights of the minor party, + but by the superior force of an interested and overbearing majority. + However anxiously we may wish that these complaints had no + foundation, the evidence, of known facts will not permit us to deny + that they are in some degree true. It will be found, indeed, on a + candid review of our situation, that some of the distresses under + which we labor have been erroneously charged on the operation of our + governments; but it will be found, at the same time, that other + causes will not alone account for many of our heaviest misfortunes; + and, particularly, for that prevailing and increasing distrust of + public engagements, and alarm for private rights, which are echoed + from one end of the continent to the other. These must be chiefly, + if not wholly, effects of the unsteadiness and injustice with which + a factious spirit has tainted our public administrations. +By a faction, I understand a number of citizens, whether + amounting to a majority or a minority of the whole, who are united + and actuated by some common impulse of passion, or of interest, + adversed to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent and + aggregate interests of the community. +There are two methods of curing the mischiefs of faction: the + one, by removing its causes; the other, by controlling its effects. +There are again two methods of removing the causes of faction: + the one, by destroying the liberty which is essential to its + existence; the other, by giving to every citizen the same opinions, + the same passions, and the same interests. +It could never be more truly said than of the first remedy, that + it was worse than the disease. Liberty is to faction what air is to + fire, an aliment without which it instantly expires. But it could + not be less folly to abolish liberty, which is essential to + political life, because it nourishes faction, than it would be to + wish the annihilation of air, which is essential to animal life, + because it imparts to fire its destructive agency. +The second expedient is as impracticable as the first would be + unwise. As long as the reason of man continues fallible, and he is + at liberty to exercise it, different opinions will be formed. As + long as the connection subsists between his reason and his + self-love, his opinions and his passions will have a reciprocal + influence on each other; and the former will be objects to which + the latter will attach themselves. The diversity in the faculties + of men, from which the rights of property originate, is not less an + insuperable obstacle to a uniformity of interests. The protection + of these faculties is the first object of government. From the + protection of different and unequal faculties of acquiring property, + the possession of different degrees and kinds of property + immediately results; and from the influence of these on the + sentiments and views of the respective proprietors, ensues a + division of the society into different interests and parties. +The latent causes of faction are thus sown in the nature of man; + and we see them everywhere brought into different degrees of + activity, according to the different circumstances of civil society. + A zeal for different opinions concerning religion, concerning + government, and many other points, as well of speculation as of + practice; an attachment to different leaders ambitiously contending + for pre-eminence and power; or to persons of other descriptions + whose fortunes have been interesting to the human passions, have, in + turn, divided mankind into parties, inflamed them with mutual + animosity, and rendered them much more disposed to vex and oppress + each other than to co-operate for their common good. So strong is + this propensity of mankind to fall into mutual animosities, that + where no substantial occasion presents itself, the most frivolous + and fanciful distinctions have been sufficient to kindle their + unfriendly passions and excite their most violent conflicts. But + the most common and durable source of factions has been the various + and unequal distribution of property. Those who hold and those who + are without property have ever formed distinct interests in society. + Those who are creditors, and those who are debtors, fall under a + like discrimination. A landed interest, a manufacturing interest, a + mercantile interest, a moneyed interest, with many lesser interests, + grow up of necessity in civilized nations, and divide them into + different classes, actuated by different sentiments and views. The + regulation of these various and interfering interests forms the + principal task of modern legislation, and involves the spirit of + party and faction in the necessary and ordinary operations of the + government. +No man is allowed to be a judge in his own cause, because his + interest would certainly bias his judgment, and, not improbably, + corrupt his integrity. With equal, nay with greater reason, a body + of men are unfit to be both judges and parties at the same time; + yet what are many of the most important acts of legislation, but so + many judicial determinations, not indeed concerning the rights of + single persons, but concerning the rights of large bodies of + citizens? And what are the different classes of legislators but + advocates and parties to the causes which they determine? Is a law + proposed concerning private debts? It is a question to which the + creditors are parties on one side and the debtors on the other. + Justice ought to hold the balance between them. Yet the parties + are, and must be, themselves the judges; and the most numerous + party, or, in other words, the most powerful faction must be + expected to prevail. Shall domestic manufactures be encouraged, and + in what degree, by restrictions on foreign manufactures? are + questions which would be differently decided by the landed and the + manufacturing classes, and probably by neither with a sole regard to + justice and the public good. The apportionment of taxes on the + various descriptions of property is an act which seems to require + the most exact impartiality; yet there is, perhaps, no legislative + act in which greater opportunity and temptation are given to a + predominant party to trample on the rules of justice. Every + shilling with which they overburden the inferior number, is a + shilling saved to their own pockets. +It is in vain to say that enlightened statesmen will be able to + adjust these clashing interests, and render them all subservient to + the public good. Enlightened statesmen will not always be at the + helm. Nor, in many cases, can such an adjustment be made at all + without taking into view indirect and remote considerations, which + will rarely prevail over the immediate interest which one party may + find in disregarding the rights of another or the good of the whole. +The inference to which we are brought is, that the CAUSES of + faction cannot be removed, and that relief is only to be sought in + the means of controlling its EFFECTS. +If a faction consists of less than a majority, relief is + supplied by the republican principle, which enables the majority to + defeat its sinister views by regular vote. It may clog the + administration, it may convulse the society; but it will be unable + to execute and mask its violence under the forms of the Constitution. + When a majority is included in a faction, the form of popular + government, on the other hand, enables it to sacrifice to its ruling + passion or interest both the public good and the rights of other + citizens. To secure the public good and private rights against the + danger of such a faction, and at the same time to preserve the + spirit and the form of popular government, is then the great object + to which our inquiries are directed. Let me add that it is the + great desideratum by which this form of government can be rescued + from the opprobrium under which it has so long labored, and be + recommended to the esteem and adoption of mankind. +By what means is this object attainable? Evidently by one of + two only. Either the existence of the same passion or interest in a + majority at the same time must be prevented, or the majority, having + such coexistent passion or interest, must be rendered, by their + number and local situation, unable to concert and carry into effect + schemes of oppression. If the impulse and the opportunity be + suffered to coincide, we well know that neither moral nor religious + motives can be relied on as an adequate control. They are not found + to be such on the injustice and violence of individuals, and lose + their efficacy in proportion to the number combined together, that + is, in proportion as their efficacy becomes needful. +From this view of the subject it may be concluded that a pure + democracy, by which I mean a society consisting of a small number of + citizens, who assemble and administer the government in person, can + admit of no cure for the mischiefs of faction. A common passion or + interest will, in almost every case, be felt by a majority of the + whole; a communication and concert result from the form of + government itself; and there is nothing to check the inducements to + sacrifice the weaker party or an obnoxious individual. Hence it is + that such democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and + contention; have ever been found incompatible with personal + security or the rights of property; and have in general been as + short in their lives as they have been violent in their deaths. + Theoretic politicians, who have patronized this species of + government, have erroneously supposed that by reducing mankind to a + perfect equality in their political rights, they would, at the same + time, be perfectly equalized and assimilated in their possessions, + their opinions, and their passions. +A republic, by which I mean a government in which the scheme of + representation takes place, opens a different prospect, and promises + the cure for which we are seeking. Let us examine the points in + which it varies from pure democracy, and we shall comprehend both + the nature of the cure and the efficacy which it must derive from + the Union. +The two great points of difference between a democracy and a + republic are: first, the delegation of the government, in the + latter, to a small number of citizens elected by the rest; + secondly, the greater number of citizens, and greater sphere of + country, over which the latter may be extended. +The effect of the first difference is, on the one hand, to + refine and enlarge the public views, by passing them through the + medium of a chosen body of citizens, whose wisdom may best discern + the true interest of their country, and whose patriotism and love of + justice will be least likely to sacrifice it to temporary or partial + considerations. Under such a regulation, it may well happen that + the public voice, pronounced by the representatives of the people, + will be more consonant to the public good than if pronounced by the + people themselves, convened for the purpose. On the other hand, the + effect may be inverted. Men of factious tempers, of local + prejudices, or of sinister designs, may, by intrigue, by corruption, + or by other means, first obtain the suffrages, and then betray the + interests, of the people. The question resulting is, whether small + or extensive republics are more favorable to the election of proper + guardians of the public weal; and it is clearly decided in favor of + the latter by two obvious considerations: +In the first place, it is to be remarked that, however small the + republic may be, the representatives must be raised to a certain + number, in order to guard against the cabals of a few; and that, + however large it may be, they must be limited to a certain number, + in order to guard against the confusion of a multitude. Hence, the + number of representatives in the two cases not being in proportion + to that of the two constituents, and being proportionally greater in + the small republic, it follows that, if the proportion of fit + characters be not less in the large than in the small republic, the + former will present a greater option, and consequently a greater + probability of a fit choice. +In the next place, as each representative will be chosen by a + greater number of citizens in the large than in the small republic, + it will be more difficult for unworthy candidates to practice with + success the vicious arts by which elections are too often carried; + and the suffrages of the people being more free, will be more + likely to centre in men who possess the most attractive merit and + the most diffusive and established characters. +It must be confessed that in this, as in most other cases, there + is a mean, on both sides of which inconveniences will be found to + lie. By enlarging too much the number of electors, you render the + representatives too little acquainted with all their local + circumstances and lesser interests; as by reducing it too much, you + render him unduly attached to these, and too little fit to + comprehend and pursue great and national objects. The federal + Constitution forms a happy combination in this respect; the great + and aggregate interests being referred to the national, the local + and particular to the State legislatures. +The other point of difference is, the greater number of citizens + and extent of territory which may be brought within the compass of + republican than of democratic government; and it is this + circumstance principally which renders factious combinations less to + be dreaded in the former than in the latter. The smaller the + society, the fewer probably will be the distinct parties and + interests composing it; the fewer the distinct parties and + interests, the more frequently will a majority be found of the same + party; and the smaller the number of individuals composing a + majority, and the smaller the compass within which they are placed, + the more easily will they concert and execute their plans of + oppression. Extend the sphere, and you take in a greater variety of + parties and interests; you make it less probable that a majority of + the whole will have a common motive to invade the rights of other + citizens; or if such a common motive exists, it will be more + difficult for all who feel it to discover their own strength, and to + act in unison with each other. Besides other impediments, it may be + remarked that, where there is a consciousness of unjust or + dishonorable purposes, communication is always checked by distrust + in proportion to the number whose concurrence is necessary. +Hence, it clearly appears, that the same advantage which a + republic has over a democracy, in controlling the effects of + faction, is enjoyed by a large over a small republic,--is enjoyed by + the Union over the States composing it. Does the advantage consist + in the substitution of representatives whose enlightened views and + virtuous sentiments render them superior to local prejudices and + schemes of injustice? It will not be denied that the representation + of the Union will be most likely to possess these requisite + endowments. Does it consist in the greater security afforded by a + greater variety of parties, against the event of any one party being + able to outnumber and oppress the rest? In an equal degree does the + increased variety of parties comprised within the Union, increase + this security. Does it, in fine, consist in the greater obstacles + opposed to the concert and accomplishment of the secret wishes of an + unjust and interested majority? Here, again, the extent of the + Union gives it the most palpable advantage. +The influence of factious leaders may kindle a flame within + their particular States, but will be unable to spread a general + conflagration through the other States. A religious sect may + degenerate into a political faction in a part of the Confederacy; + but the variety of sects dispersed over the entire face of it must + secure the national councils against any danger from that source. A + rage for paper money, for an abolition of debts, for an equal + division of property, or for any other improper or wicked project, + will be less apt to pervade the whole body of the Union than a + particular member of it; in the same proportion as such a malady is + more likely to taint a particular county or district, than an entire + State. +In the extent and proper structure of the Union, therefore, we + behold a republican remedy for the diseases most incident to + republican government. And according to the degree of pleasure and + pride we feel in being republicans, ought to be our zeal in + cherishing the spirit and supporting the character of Federalists. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 11 + +The Utility of the Union in Respect to Commercial Relations and a + Navy +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE importance of the Union, in a commercial light, is one of + those points about which there is least room to entertain a + difference of opinion, and which has, in fact, commanded the most + general assent of men who have any acquaintance with the subject. + This applies as well to our intercourse with foreign countries as + with each other. +There are appearances to authorize a supposition that the + adventurous spirit, which distinguishes the commercial character of + America, has already excited uneasy sensations in several of the + maritime powers of Europe. They seem to be apprehensive of our too + great interference in that carrying trade, which is the support of + their navigation and the foundation of their naval strength. Those + of them which have colonies in America look forward to what this + country is capable of becoming, with painful solicitude. They + foresee the dangers that may threaten their American dominions from + the neighborhood of States, which have all the dispositions, and + would possess all the means, requisite to the creation of a powerful + marine. Impressions of this kind will naturally indicate the policy + of fostering divisions among us, and of depriving us, as far as + possible, of an ACTIVE COMMERCE in our own bottoms. This would + answer the threefold purpose of preventing our interference in their + navigation, of monopolizing the profits of our trade, and of + clipping the wings by which we might soar to a dangerous greatness. + Did not prudence forbid the detail, it would not be difficult to + trace, by facts, the workings of this policy to the cabinets of + ministers. +If we continue united, we may counteract a policy so unfriendly + to our prosperity in a variety of ways. By prohibitory regulations, + extending, at the same time, throughout the States, we may oblige + foreign countries to bid against each other, for the privileges of + our markets. This assertion will not appear chimerical to those who + are able to appreciate the importance of the markets of three + millions of people--increasing in rapid progression, for the most + part exclusively addicted to agriculture, and likely from local + circumstances to remain so--to any manufacturing nation; and the + immense difference there would be to the trade and navigation of + such a nation, between a direct communication in its own ships, and + an indirect conveyance of its products and returns, to and from + America, in the ships of another country. Suppose, for instance, we + had a government in America, capable of excluding Great Britain + (with whom we have at present no treaty of commerce) from all our + ports; what would be the probable operation of this step upon her + politics? Would it not enable us to negotiate, with the fairest + prospect of success, for commercial privileges of the most valuable + and extensive kind, in the dominions of that kingdom? When these + questions have been asked, upon other occasions, they have received + a plausible, but not a solid or satisfactory answer. It has been + said that prohibitions on our part would produce no change in the + system of Britain, because she could prosecute her trade with us + through the medium of the Dutch, who would be her immediate + customers and paymasters for those articles which were wanted for + the supply of our markets. But would not her navigation be + materially injured by the loss of the important advantage of being + her own carrier in that trade? Would not the principal part of its + profits be intercepted by the Dutch, as a compensation for their + agency and risk? Would not the mere circumstance of freight + occasion a considerable deduction? Would not so circuitous an + intercourse facilitate the competitions of other nations, by + enhancing the price of British commodities in our markets, and by + transferring to other hands the management of this interesting + branch of the British commerce? +A mature consideration of the objects suggested by these + questions will justify a belief that the real disadvantages to + Britain from such a state of things, conspiring with the + pre-possessions of a great part of the nation in favor of the + American trade, and with the importunities of the West India + islands, would produce a relaxation in her present system, and would + let us into the enjoyment of privileges in the markets of those + islands elsewhere, from which our trade would derive the most + substantial benefits. Such a point gained from the British + government, and which could not be expected without an equivalent in + exemptions and immunities in our markets, would be likely to have a + correspondent effect on the conduct of other nations, who would not + be inclined to see themselves altogether supplanted in our trade. +A further resource for influencing the conduct of European + nations toward us, in this respect, would arise from the + establishment of a federal navy. There can be no doubt that the + continuance of the Union under an efficient government would put it + in our power, at a period not very distant, to create a navy which, + if it could not vie with those of the great maritime powers, would + at least be of respectable weight if thrown into the scale of either + of two contending parties. This would be more peculiarly the case + in relation to operations in the West Indies. A few ships of the + line, sent opportunely to the reinforcement of either side, would + often be sufficient to decide the fate of a campaign, on the event + of which interests of the greatest magnitude were suspended. Our + position is, in this respect, a most commanding one. And if to this + consideration we add that of the usefulness of supplies from this + country, in the prosecution of military operations in the West + Indies, it will readily be perceived that a situation so favorable + would enable us to bargain with great advantage for commercial + privileges. A price would be set not only upon our friendship, but + upon our neutrality. By a steady adherence to the Union we may + hope, erelong, to become the arbiter of Europe in America, and to be + able to incline the balance of European competitions in this part of + the world as our interest may dictate. +But in the reverse of this eligible situation, we shall discover + that the rivalships of the parts would make them checks upon each + other, and would frustrate all the tempting advantages which nature + has kindly placed within our reach. In a state so insignificant our + commerce would be a prey to the wanton intermeddlings of all nations + at war with each other; who, having nothing to fear from us, would + with little scruple or remorse, supply their wants by depredations + on our property as often as it fell in their way. The rights of + neutrality will only be respected when they are defended by an + adequate power. A nation, despicable by its weakness, forfeits even + the privilege of being neutral. +Under a vigorous national government, the natural strength and + resources of the country, directed to a common interest, would + baffle all the combinations of European jealousy to restrain our + growth. This situation would even take away the motive to such + combinations, by inducing an impracticability of success. An active + commerce, an extensive navigation, and a flourishing marine would + then be the offspring of moral and physical necessity. We might + defy the little arts of the little politicians to control or vary + the irresistible and unchangeable course of nature. +But in a state of disunion, these combinations might exist and + might operate with success. It would be in the power of the + maritime nations, availing themselves of our universal impotence, to + prescribe the conditions of our political existence; and as they + have a common interest in being our carriers, and still more in + preventing our becoming theirs, they would in all probability + combine to embarrass our navigation in such a manner as would in + effect destroy it, and confine us to a PASSIVE COMMERCE. We should + then be compelled to content ourselves with the first price of our + commodities, and to see the profits of our trade snatched from us to + enrich our enemies and persecutors. That unequaled spirit of + enterprise, which signalizes the genius of the American merchants + and navigators, and which is in itself an inexhaustible mine of + national wealth, would be stifled and lost, and poverty and disgrace + would overspread a country which, with wisdom, might make herself + the admiration and envy of the world. +There are rights of great moment to the trade of America which + are rights of the Union--I allude to the fisheries, to the navigation + of the Western lakes, and to that of the Mississippi. The + dissolution of the Confederacy would give room for delicate + questions concerning the future existence of these rights; which + the interest of more powerful partners would hardly fail to solve to + our disadvantage. The disposition of Spain with regard to the + Mississippi needs no comment. France and Britain are concerned with + us in the fisheries, and view them as of the utmost moment to their + navigation. They, of course, would hardly remain long indifferent + to that decided mastery, of which experience has shown us to be + possessed in this valuable branch of traffic, and by which we are + able to undersell those nations in their own markets. What more + natural than that they should be disposed to exclude from the lists + such dangerous competitors? +This branch of trade ought not to be considered as a partial + benefit. All the navigating States may, in different degrees, + advantageously participate in it, and under circumstances of a + greater extension of mercantile capital, would not be unlikely to do + it. As a nursery of seamen, it now is, or when time shall have more + nearly assimilated the principles of navigation in the several + States, will become, a universal resource. To the establishment of + a navy, it must be indispensable. +To this great national object, a NAVY, union will contribute in + various ways. Every institution will grow and flourish in + proportion to the quantity and extent of the means concentred + towards its formation and support. A navy of the United States, as + it would embrace the resources of all, is an object far less remote + than a navy of any single State or partial confederacy, which would + only embrace the resources of a single part. It happens, indeed, + that different portions of confederated America possess each some + peculiar advantage for this essential establishment. The more + southern States furnish in greater abundance certain kinds of naval + stores--tar, pitch, and turpentine. Their wood for the construction + of ships is also of a more solid and lasting texture. The + difference in the duration of the ships of which the navy might be + composed, if chiefly constructed of Southern wood, would be of + signal importance, either in the view of naval strength or of + national economy. Some of the Southern and of the Middle States + yield a greater plenty of iron, and of better quality. Seamen must + chiefly be drawn from the Northern hive. The necessity of naval + protection to external or maritime commerce does not require a + particular elucidation, no more than the conduciveness of that + species of commerce to the prosperity of a navy. +An unrestrained intercourse between the States themselves will + advance the trade of each by an interchange of their respective + productions, not only for the supply of reciprocal wants at home, + but for exportation to foreign markets. The veins of commerce in + every part will be replenished, and will acquire additional motion + and vigor from a free circulation of the commodities of every part. + Commercial enterprise will have much greater scope, from the + diversity in the productions of different States. When the staple + of one fails from a bad harvest or unproductive crop, it can call to + its aid the staple of another. The variety, not less than the + value, of products for exportation contributes to the activity of + foreign commerce. It can be conducted upon much better terms with a + large number of materials of a given value than with a small number + of materials of the same value; arising from the competitions of + trade and from the fluctations of markets. Particular articles may + be in great demand at certain periods, and unsalable at others; but + if there be a variety of articles, it can scarcely happen that they + should all be at one time in the latter predicament, and on this + account the operations of the merchant would be less liable to any + considerable obstruction or stagnation. The speculative trader will + at once perceive the force of these observations, and will + acknowledge that the aggregate balance of the commerce of the United + States would bid fair to be much more favorable than that of the + thirteen States without union or with partial unions. +It may perhaps be replied to this, that whether the States are + united or disunited, there would still be an intimate intercourse + between them which would answer the same ends; this intercourse + would be fettered, interrupted, and narrowed by a multiplicity of + causes, which in the course of these papers have been amply detailed. + A unity of commercial, as well as political, interests, can only + result from a unity of government. +There are other points of view in which this subject might be + placed, of a striking and animating kind. But they would lead us + too far into the regions of futurity, and would involve topics not + proper for a newspaper discussion. I shall briefly observe, that + our situation invites and our interests prompt us to aim at an + ascendant in the system of American affairs. The world may + politically, as well as geographically, be divided into four parts, + each having a distinct set of interests. Unhappily for the other + three, Europe, by her arms and by her negotiations, by force and by + fraud, has, in different degrees, extended her dominion over them + all. Africa, Asia, and America, have successively felt her + domination. The superiority she has long maintained has tempted her + to plume herself as the Mistress of the World, and to consider the + rest of mankind as created for her benefit. Men admired as profound + philosophers have, in direct terms, attributed to her inhabitants a + physical superiority, and have gravely asserted that all animals, + and with them the human species, degenerate in America--that even + dogs cease to bark after having breathed awhile in our + atmosphere.1 Facts have too long supported these arrogant + pretensions of the Europeans. It belongs to us to vindicate the + honor of the human race, and to teach that assuming brother, + moderation. Union will enable us to do it. Disunion will will add + another victim to his triumphs. Let Americans disdain to be the + instruments of European greatness! Let the thirteen States, bound + together in a strict and indissoluble Union, concur in erecting one + great American system, superior to the control of all transatlantic + force or influence, and able to dictate the terms of the connection + between the old and the new world! +PUBLIUS. +``Recherches philosophiques sur les Americains.'' + + +FEDERALIST No. 12 + +The Utility of the Union In Respect to Revenue +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, November 27, 1787. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE effects of Union upon the commercial prosperity of the + States have been sufficiently delineated. Its tendency to promote + the interests of revenue will be the subject of our present inquiry. +The prosperity of commerce is now perceived and acknowledged by + all enlightened statesmen to be the most useful as well as the most + productive source of national wealth, and has accordingly become a + primary object of their political cares. By multiplying the means of + gratification, by promoting the introduction and circulation of the + precious metals, those darling objects of human avarice and + enterprise, it serves to vivify and invigorate the channels of + industry, and to make them flow with greater activity and + copiousness. The assiduous merchant, the laborious husbandman, the + active mechanic, and the industrious manufacturer,--all orders of + men, look forward with eager expectation and growing alacrity to + this pleasing reward of their toils. The often-agitated question + between agriculture and commerce has, from indubitable experience, + received a decision which has silenced the rivalship that once + subsisted between them, and has proved, to the satisfaction of their + friends, that their interests are intimately blended and interwoven. + It has been found in various countries that, in proportion as + commerce has flourished, land has risen in value. And how could it + have happened otherwise? Could that which procures a freer vent for + the products of the earth, which furnishes new incitements to the + cultivation of land, which is the most powerful instrument in + increasing the quantity of money in a state--could that, in fine, + which is the faithful handmaid of labor and industry, in every + shape, fail to augment that article, which is the prolific parent of + far the greatest part of the objects upon which they are exerted? + It is astonishing that so simple a truth should ever have had an + adversary; and it is one, among a multitude of proofs, how apt a + spirit of ill-informed jealousy, or of too great abstraction and + refinement, is to lead men astray from the plainest truths of reason + and conviction. +The ability of a country to pay taxes must always be + proportioned, in a great degree, to the quantity of money in + circulation, and to the celerity with which it circulates. + Commerce, contributing to both these objects, must of necessity + render the payment of taxes easier, and facilitate the requisite + supplies to the treasury. The hereditary dominions of the Emperor + of Germany contain a great extent of fertile, cultivated, and + populous territory, a large proportion of which is situated in mild + and luxuriant climates. In some parts of this territory are to be + found the best gold and silver mines in Europe. And yet, from the + want of the fostering influence of commerce, that monarch can boast + but slender revenues. He has several times been compelled to owe + obligations to the pecuniary succors of other nations for the + preservation of his essential interests, and is unable, upon the + strength of his own resources, to sustain a long or continued war. +But it is not in this aspect of the subject alone that Union + will be seen to conduce to the purpose of revenue. There are other + points of view, in which its influence will appear more immediate + and decisive. It is evident from the state of the country, from the + habits of the people, from the experience we have had on the point + itself, that it is impracticable to raise any very considerable sums + by direct taxation. Tax laws have in vain been multiplied; new + methods to enforce the collection have in vain been tried; the + public expectation has been uniformly disappointed, and the + treasuries of the States have remained empty. The popular system of + administration inherent in the nature of popular government, + coinciding with the real scarcity of money incident to a languid and + mutilated state of trade, has hitherto defeated every experiment for + extensive collections, and has at length taught the different + legislatures the folly of attempting them. +No person acquainted with what happens in other countries will + be surprised at this circumstance. In so opulent a nation as that + of Britain, where direct taxes from superior wealth must be much + more tolerable, and, from the vigor of the government, much more + practicable, than in America, far the greatest part of the national + revenue is derived from taxes of the indirect kind, from imposts, + and from excises. Duties on imported articles form a large branch + of this latter description. +In America, it is evident that we must a long time depend for + the means of revenue chiefly on such duties. In most parts of it, + excises must be confined within a narrow compass. The genius of the + people will ill brook the inquisitive and peremptory spirit of + excise laws. The pockets of the farmers, on the other hand, will + reluctantly yield but scanty supplies, in the unwelcome shape of + impositions on their houses and lands; and personal property is too + precarious and invisible a fund to be laid hold of in any other way + than by the inperceptible agency of taxes on consumption. +If these remarks have any foundation, that state of things which + will best enable us to improve and extend so valuable a resource + must be best adapted to our political welfare. And it cannot admit + of a serious doubt, that this state of things must rest on the basis + of a general Union. As far as this would be conducive to the + interests of commerce, so far it must tend to the extension of the + revenue to be drawn from that source. As far as it would contribute + to rendering regulations for the collection of the duties more + simple and efficacious, so far it must serve to answer the purposes + of making the same rate of duties more productive, and of putting it + into the power of the government to increase the rate without + prejudice to trade. +The relative situation of these States; the number of rivers + with which they are intersected, and of bays that wash there shores; + the facility of communication in every direction; the affinity of + language and manners; the familiar habits of intercourse; --all + these are circumstances that would conspire to render an illicit + trade between them a matter of little difficulty, and would insure + frequent evasions of the commercial regulations of each other. The + separate States or confederacies would be necessitated by mutual + jealousy to avoid the temptations to that kind of trade by the + lowness of their duties. The temper of our governments, for a long + time to come, would not permit those rigorous precautions by which + the European nations guard the avenues into their respective + countries, as well by land as by water; and which, even there, are + found insufficient obstacles to the adventurous stratagems of + avarice. +In France, there is an army of patrols (as they are called) + constantly employed to secure their fiscal regulations against the + inroads of the dealers in contraband trade. Mr. Neckar computes the + number of these patrols at upwards of twenty thousand. This shows + the immense difficulty in preventing that species of traffic, where + there is an inland communication, and places in a strong light the + disadvantages with which the collection of duties in this country + would be encumbered, if by disunion the States should be placed in a + situation, with respect to each other, resembling that of France + with respect to her neighbors. The arbitrary and vexatious powers + with which the patrols are necessarily armed, would be intolerable + in a free country. +If, on the contrary, there be but one government pervading all + the States, there will be, as to the principal part of our commerce, + but ONE SIDE to guard--the ATLANTIC COAST. Vessels arriving directly + from foreign countries, laden with valuable cargoes, would rarely + choose to hazard themselves to the complicated and critical perils + which would attend attempts to unlade prior to their coming into + port. They would have to dread both the dangers of the coast, and + of detection, as well after as before their arrival at the places of + their final destination. An ordinary degree of vigilance would be + competent to the prevention of any material infractions upon the + rights of the revenue. A few armed vessels, judiciously stationed + at the entrances of our ports, might at a small expense be made + useful sentinels of the laws. And the government having the same + interest to provide against violations everywhere, the co-operation + of its measures in each State would have a powerful tendency to + render them effectual. Here also we should preserve by Union, an + advantage which nature holds out to us, and which would be + relinquished by separation. The United States lie at a great + distance from Europe, and at a considerable distance from all other + places with which they would have extensive connections of foreign + trade. The passage from them to us, in a few hours, or in a single + night, as between the coasts of France and Britain, and of other + neighboring nations, would be impracticable. This is a prodigious + security against a direct contraband with foreign countries; but a + circuitous contraband to one State, through the medium of another, + would be both easy and safe. The difference between a direct + importation from abroad, and an indirect importation through the + channel of a neighboring State, in small parcels, according to time + and opportunity, with the additional facilities of inland + communication, must be palpable to every man of discernment. +It is therefore evident, that one national government would be + able, at much less expense, to extend the duties on imports, beyond + comparison, further than would be practicable to the States + separately, or to any partial confederacies. Hitherto, I believe, + it may safely be asserted, that these duties have not upon an + average exceeded in any State three per cent. In France they are + estimated to be about fifteen per cent., and in Britain they exceed + this proportion.1 There seems to be nothing to hinder their + being increased in this country to at least treble their present + amount. The single article of ardent spirits, under federal + regulation, might be made to furnish a considerable revenue. Upon a + ratio to the importation into this State, the whole quantity + imported into the United States may be estimated at four millions of + gallons; which, at a shilling per gallon, would produce two hundred + thousand pounds. That article would well bear this rate of duty; + and if it should tend to diminish the consumption of it, such an + effect would be equally favorable to the agriculture, to the + economy, to the morals, and to the health of the society. There is, + perhaps, nothing so much a subject of national extravagance as these + spirits. +What will be the consequence, if we are not able to avail + ourselves of the resource in question in its full extent? A nation + cannot long exist without revenues. Destitute of this essential + support, it must resign its independence, and sink into the degraded + condition of a province. This is an extremity to which no + government will of choice accede. Revenue, therefore, must be had + at all events. In this country, if the principal part be not drawn + from commerce, it must fall with oppressive weight upon land. It + has been already intimated that excises, in their true + signification, are too little in unison with the feelings of the + people, to admit of great use being made of that mode of taxation; + nor, indeed, in the States where almost the sole employment is + agriculture, are the objects proper for excise sufficiently numerous + to permit very ample collections in that way. Personal estate (as + has been before remarked), from the difficulty in tracing it, cannot + be subjected to large contributions, by any other means than by + taxes on consumption. In populous cities, it may be enough the + subject of conjecture, to occasion the oppression of individuals, + without much aggregate benefit to the State; but beyond these + circles, it must, in a great measure, escape the eye and the hand of + the tax-gatherer. As the necessities of the State, nevertheless, + must be satisfied in some mode or other, the defect of other + resources must throw the principal weight of public burdens on the + possessors of land. And as, on the other hand, the wants of the + government can never obtain an adequate supply, unless all the + sources of revenue are open to its demands, the finances of the + community, under such embarrassments, cannot be put into a situation + consistent with its respectability or its security. Thus we shall + not even have the consolations of a full treasury, to atone for the + oppression of that valuable class of the citizens who are employed + in the cultivation of the soil. But public and private distress + will keep pace with each other in gloomy concert; and unite in + deploring the infatuation of those counsels which led to disunion. +PUBLIUS. +1 If my memory be right they amount to twenty per cent. + + +FEDERALIST No. 13 + +Advantage of the Union in Respect to Economy in Government +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +As CONNECTED with the subject of revenue, we may with propriety + consider that of economy. The money saved from one object may be + usefully applied to another, and there will be so much the less to + be drawn from the pockets of the people. If the States are united + under one government, there will be but one national civil list to + support; if they are divided into several confederacies, there will + be as many different national civil lists to be provided for--and + each of them, as to the principal departments, coextensive with that + which would be necessary for a government of the whole. The entire + separation of the States into thirteen unconnected sovereignties is + a project too extravagant and too replete with danger to have many + advocates. The ideas of men who speculate upon the dismemberment of + the empire seem generally turned toward three confederacies--one + consisting of the four Northern, another of the four Middle, and a + third of the five Southern States. There is little probability that + there would be a greater number. According to this distribution, + each confederacy would comprise an extent of territory larger than + that of the kingdom of Great Britain. No well-informed man will + suppose that the affairs of such a confederacy can be properly + regulated by a government less comprehensive in its organs or + institutions than that which has been proposed by the convention. + When the dimensions of a State attain to a certain magnitude, it + requires the same energy of government and the same forms of + administration which are requisite in one of much greater extent. + This idea admits not of precise demonstration, because there is no + rule by which we can measure the momentum of civil power necessary + to the government of any given number of individuals; but when we + consider that the island of Britain, nearly commensurate with each + of the supposed confederacies, contains about eight millions of + people, and when we reflect upon the degree of authority required to + direct the passions of so large a society to the public good, we + shall see no reason to doubt that the like portion of power would be + sufficient to perform the same task in a society far more numerous. + Civil power, properly organized and exerted, is capable of + diffusing its force to a very great extent; and can, in a manner, + reproduce itself in every part of a great empire by a judicious + arrangement of subordinate institutions. +The supposition that each confederacy into which the States + would be likely to be divided would require a government not less + comprehensive than the one proposed, will be strengthened by another + supposition, more probable than that which presents us with three + confederacies as the alternative to a general Union. If we attend + carefully to geographical and commercial considerations, in + conjunction with the habits and prejudices of the different States, + we shall be led to conclude that in case of disunion they will most + naturally league themselves under two governments. The four Eastern + States, from all the causes that form the links of national sympathy + and connection, may with certainty be expected to unite. New York, + situated as she is, would never be unwise enough to oppose a feeble + and unsupported flank to the weight of that confederacy. There are + other obvious reasons that would facilitate her accession to it. + New Jersey is too small a State to think of being a frontier, in + opposition to this still more powerful combination; nor do there + appear to be any obstacles to her admission into it. Even + Pennsylvania would have strong inducements to join the Northern + league. An active foreign commerce, on the basis of her own + navigation, is her true policy, and coincides with the opinions and + dispositions of her citizens. The more Southern States, from + various circumstances, may not think themselves much interested in + the encouragement of navigation. They may prefer a system which + would give unlimited scope to all nations to be the carriers as well + as the purchasers of their commodities. Pennsylvania may not choose + to confound her interests in a connection so adverse to her policy. + As she must at all events be a frontier, she may deem it most + consistent with her safety to have her exposed side turned towards + the weaker power of the Southern, rather than towards the stronger + power of the Northern, Confederacy. This would give her the fairest + chance to avoid being the Flanders of America. Whatever may be the + determination of Pennsylvania, if the Northern Confederacy includes + New Jersey, there is no likelihood of more than one confederacy to + the south of that State. +Nothing can be more evident than that the thirteen States will + be able to support a national government better than one half, or + one third, or any number less than the whole. This reflection must + have great weight in obviating that objection to the proposed plan, + which is founded on the principle of expense; an objection, + however, which, when we come to take a nearer view of it, will + appear in every light to stand on mistaken ground. +If, in addition to the consideration of a plurality of civil + lists, we take into view the number of persons who must necessarily + be employed to guard the inland communication between the different + confederacies against illicit trade, and who in time will infallibly + spring up out of the necessities of revenue; and if we also take + into view the military establishments which it has been shown would + unavoidably result from the jealousies and conflicts of the several + nations into which the States would be divided, we shall clearly + discover that a separation would be not less injurious to the + economy, than to the tranquillity, commerce, revenue, and liberty of + every part. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 14 + +Objections to the Proposed Constitution From Extent of Territory + Answered +From the New York Packet. +Friday, November 30, 1787. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +WE HAVE seen the necessity of the Union, as our bulwark against + foreign danger, as the conservator of peace among ourselves, as the + guardian of our commerce and other common interests, as the only + substitute for those military establishments which have subverted + the liberties of the Old World, and as the proper antidote for the + diseases of faction, which have proved fatal to other popular + governments, and of which alarming symptoms have been betrayed by + our own. All that remains, within this branch of our inquiries, is + to take notice of an objection that may be drawn from the great + extent of country which the Union embraces. A few observations on + this subject will be the more proper, as it is perceived that the + adversaries of the new Constitution are availing themselves of the + prevailing prejudice with regard to the practicable sphere of + republican administration, in order to supply, by imaginary + difficulties, the want of those solid objections which they endeavor + in vain to find. +The error which limits republican government to a narrow + district has been unfolded and refuted in preceding papers. I + remark here only that it seems to owe its rise and prevalence + chiefly to the confounding of a republic with a democracy, applying + to the former reasonings drawn from the nature of the latter. The + true distinction between these forms was also adverted to on a + former occasion. It is, that in a democracy, the people meet and + exercise the government in person; in a republic, they assemble and + administer it by their representatives and agents. A democracy, + consequently, will be confined to a small spot. A republic may be + extended over a large region. +To this accidental source of the error may be added the artifice + of some celebrated authors, whose writings have had a great share in + forming the modern standard of political opinions. Being subjects + either of an absolute or limited monarchy, they have endeavored to + heighten the advantages, or palliate the evils of those forms, by + placing in comparison the vices and defects of the republican, and + by citing as specimens of the latter the turbulent democracies of + ancient Greece and modern Italy. Under the confusion of names, it + has been an easy task to transfer to a republic observations + applicable to a democracy only; and among others, the observation + that it can never be established but among a small number of people, + living within a small compass of territory. +Such a fallacy may have been the less perceived, as most of the + popular governments of antiquity were of the democratic species; + and even in modern Europe, to which we owe the great principle of + representation, no example is seen of a government wholly popular, + and founded, at the same time, wholly on that principle. If Europe + has the merit of discovering this great mechanical power in + government, by the simple agency of which the will of the largest + political body may be concentred, and its force directed to any + object which the public good requires, America can claim the merit + of making the discovery the basis of unmixed and extensive republics. + It is only to be lamented that any of her citizens should wish to + deprive her of the additional merit of displaying its full efficacy + in the establishment of the comprehensive system now under her + consideration. +As the natural limit of a democracy is that distance from the + central point which will just permit the most remote citizens to + assemble as often as their public functions demand, and will include + no greater number than can join in those functions; so the natural + limit of a republic is that distance from the centre which will + barely allow the representatives to meet as often as may be + necessary for the administration of public affairs. Can it be said + that the limits of the United States exceed this distance? It will + not be said by those who recollect that the Atlantic coast is the + longest side of the Union, that during the term of thirteen years, + the representatives of the States have been almost continually + assembled, and that the members from the most distant States are not + chargeable with greater intermissions of attendance than those from + the States in the neighborhood of Congress. +That we may form a juster estimate with regard to this + interesting subject, let us resort to the actual dimensions of the + Union. The limits, as fixed by the treaty of peace, are: on the + east the Atlantic, on the south the latitude of thirty-one degrees, + on the west the Mississippi, and on the north an irregular line + running in some instances beyond the forty-fifth degree, in others + falling as low as the forty-second. The southern shore of Lake Erie + lies below that latitude. Computing the distance between the + thirty-first and forty-fifth degrees, it amounts to nine hundred and + seventy-three common miles; computing it from thirty-one to + forty-two degrees, to seven hundred and sixty-four miles and a half. + Taking the mean for the distance, the amount will be eight hundred + and sixty-eight miles and three-fourths. The mean distance from the + Atlantic to the Mississippi does not probably exceed seven hundred + and fifty miles. On a comparison of this extent with that of + several countries in Europe, the practicability of rendering our + system commensurate to it appears to be demonstrable. It is not a + great deal larger than Germany, where a diet representing the whole + empire is continually assembled; or than Poland before the late + dismemberment, where another national diet was the depositary of the + supreme power. Passing by France and Spain, we find that in Great + Britain, inferior as it may be in size, the representatives of the + northern extremity of the island have as far to travel to the + national council as will be required of those of the most remote + parts of the Union. +Favorable as this view of the subject may be, some observations + remain which will place it in a light still more satisfactory. +In the first place it is to be remembered that the general + government is not to be charged with the whole power of making and + administering laws. Its jurisdiction is limited to certain + enumerated objects, which concern all the members of the republic, + but which are not to be attained by the separate provisions of any. + The subordinate governments, which can extend their care to all + those other subjects which can be separately provided for, will + retain their due authority and activity. Were it proposed by the + plan of the convention to abolish the governments of the particular + States, its adversaries would have some ground for their objection; + though it would not be difficult to show that if they were + abolished the general government would be compelled, by the + principle of self-preservation, to reinstate them in their proper + jurisdiction. +A second observation to be made is that the immediate object of + the federal Constitution is to secure the union of the thirteen + primitive States, which we know to be practicable; and to add to + them such other States as may arise in their own bosoms, or in their + neighborhoods, which we cannot doubt to be equally practicable. The + arrangements that may be necessary for those angles and fractions of + our territory which lie on our northwestern frontier, must be left + to those whom further discoveries and experience will render more + equal to the task. +Let it be remarked, in the third place, that the intercourse + throughout the Union will be facilitated by new improvements. Roads + will everywhere be shortened, and kept in better order; + accommodations for travelers will be multiplied and meliorated; an + interior navigation on our eastern side will be opened throughout, + or nearly throughout, the whole extent of the thirteen States. The + communication between the Western and Atlantic districts, and + between different parts of each, will be rendered more and more easy + by those numerous canals with which the beneficence of nature has + intersected our country, and which art finds it so little difficult + to connect and complete. +A fourth and still more important consideration is, that as + almost every State will, on one side or other, be a frontier, and + will thus find, in regard to its safety, an inducement to make some + sacrifices for the sake of the general protection; so the States + which lie at the greatest distance from the heart of the Union, and + which, of course, may partake least of the ordinary circulation of + its benefits, will be at the same time immediately contiguous to + foreign nations, and will consequently stand, on particular + occasions, in greatest need of its strength and resources. It may + be inconvenient for Georgia, or the States forming our western or + northeastern borders, to send their representatives to the seat of + government; but they would find it more so to struggle alone + against an invading enemy, or even to support alone the whole + expense of those precautions which may be dictated by the + neighborhood of continual danger. If they should derive less + benefit, therefore, from the Union in some respects than the less + distant States, they will derive greater benefit from it in other + respects, and thus the proper equilibrium will be maintained + throughout. +I submit to you, my fellow-citizens, these considerations, in + full confidence that the good sense which has so often marked your + decisions will allow them their due weight and effect; and that you + will never suffer difficulties, however formidable in appearance, or + however fashionable the error on which they may be founded, to drive + you into the gloomy and perilous scene into which the advocates for + disunion would conduct you. Hearken not to the unnatural voice + which tells you that the people of America, knit together as they + are by so many cords of affection, can no longer live together as + members of the same family; can no longer continue the mutual + guardians of their mutual happiness; can no longer be + fellowcitizens of one great, respectable, and flourishing empire. + Hearken not to the voice which petulantly tells you that the form + of government recommended for your adoption is a novelty in the + political world; that it has never yet had a place in the theories + of the wildest projectors; that it rashly attempts what it is + impossible to accomplish. No, my countrymen, shut your ears against + this unhallowed language. Shut your hearts against the poison which + it conveys; the kindred blood which flows in the veins of American + citizens, the mingled blood which they have shed in defense of their + sacred rights, consecrate their Union, and excite horror at the idea + of their becoming aliens, rivals, enemies. And if novelties are to + be shunned, believe me, the most alarming of all novelties, the most + wild of all projects, the most rash of all attempts, is that of + rendering us in pieces, in order to preserve our liberties and + promote our happiness. But why is the experiment of an extended + republic to be rejected, merely because it may comprise what is new? + Is it not the glory of the people of America, that, whilst they + have paid a decent regard to the opinions of former times and other + nations, they have not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, + for custom, or for names, to overrule the suggestions of their own + good sense, the knowledge of their own situation, and the lessons of + their own experience? To this manly spirit, posterity will be + indebted for the possession, and the world for the example, of the + numerous innovations displayed on the American theatre, in favor of + private rights and public happiness. Had no important step been + taken by the leaders of the Revolution for which a precedent could + not be discovered, no government established of which an exact model + did not present itself, the people of the United States might, at + this moment have been numbered among the melancholy victims of + misguided councils, must at best have been laboring under the weight + of some of those forms which have crushed the liberties of the rest + of mankind. Happily for America, happily, we trust, for the whole + human race, they pursued a new and more noble course. They + accomplished a revolution which has no parallel in the annals of + human society. They reared the fabrics of governments which have no + model on the face of the globe. They formed the design of a great + Confederacy, which it is incumbent on their successors to improve + and perpetuate. If their works betray imperfections, we wonder at + the fewness of them. If they erred most in the structure of the + Union, this was the work most difficult to be executed; this is the + work which has been new modelled by the act of your convention, and + it is that act on which you are now to deliberate and to decide. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 15 + +The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the + Union +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York. +IN THE course of the preceding papers, I have endeavored, my + fellow-citizens, to place before you, in a clear and convincing + light, the importance of Union to your political safety and + happiness. I have unfolded to you a complication of dangers to + which you would be exposed, should you permit that sacred knot which + binds the people of America together be severed or dissolved by + ambition or by avarice, by jealousy or by misrepresentation. In the + sequel of the inquiry through which I propose to accompany you, the + truths intended to be inculcated will receive further confirmation + from facts and arguments hitherto unnoticed. If the road over which + you will still have to pass should in some places appear to you + tedious or irksome, you will recollect that you are in quest of + information on a subject the most momentous which can engage the + attention of a free people, that the field through which you have to + travel is in itself spacious, and that the difficulties of the + journey have been unnecessarily increased by the mazes with which + sophistry has beset the way. It will be my aim to remove the + obstacles from your progress in as compendious a manner as it can be + done, without sacrificing utility to despatch. +In pursuance of the plan which I have laid down for the + discussion of the subject, the point next in order to be examined is + the ``insufficiency of the present Confederation to the preservation + of the Union.'' It may perhaps be asked what need there is of + reasoning or proof to illustrate a position which is not either + controverted or doubted, to which the understandings and feelings of + all classes of men assent, and which in substance is admitted by the + opponents as well as by the friends of the new Constitution. It + must in truth be acknowledged that, however these may differ in + other respects, they in general appear to harmonize in this + sentiment, at least, that there are material imperfections in our + national system, and that something is necessary to be done to + rescue us from impending anarchy. The facts that support this + opinion are no longer objects of speculation. They have forced + themselves upon the sensibility of the people at large, and have at + length extorted from those, whose mistaken policy has had the + principal share in precipitating the extremity at which we are + arrived, a reluctant confession of the reality of those defects in + the scheme of our federal government, which have been long pointed + out and regretted by the intelligent friends of the Union. +We may indeed with propriety be said to have reached almost the + last stage of national humiliation. There is scarcely anything that + can wound the pride or degrade the character of an independent + nation which we do not experience. Are there engagements to the + performance of which we are held by every tie respectable among men? + These are the subjects of constant and unblushing violation. Do we + owe debts to foreigners and to our own citizens contracted in a time + of imminent peril for the preservation of our political existence? + These remain without any proper or satisfactory provision for their + discharge. Have we valuable territories and important posts in the + possession of a foreign power which, by express stipulations, ought + long since to have been surrendered? These are still retained, to + the prejudice of our interests, not less than of our rights. Are we + in a condition to resent or to repel the aggression? We have + neither troops, nor treasury, nor government.1 Are we even in a + condition to remonstrate with dignity? The just imputations on our + own faith, in respect to the same treaty, ought first to be removed. + Are we entitled by nature and compact to a free participation in + the navigation of the Mississippi? Spain excludes us from it. Is + public credit an indispensable resource in time of public danger? + We seem to have abandoned its cause as desperate and irretrievable. + Is commerce of importance to national wealth? Ours is at the + lowest point of declension. Is respectability in the eyes of + foreign powers a safeguard against foreign encroachments? The + imbecility of our government even forbids them to treat with us. + Our ambassadors abroad are the mere pageants of mimic sovereignty. + Is a violent and unnatural decrease in the value of land a symptom + of national distress? The price of improved land in most parts of + the country is much lower than can be accounted for by the quantity + of waste land at market, and can only be fully explained by that + want of private and public confidence, which are so alarmingly + prevalent among all ranks, and which have a direct tendency to + depreciate property of every kind. Is private credit the friend and + patron of industry? That most useful kind which relates to + borrowing and lending is reduced within the narrowest limits, and + this still more from an opinion of insecurity than from the scarcity + of money. To shorten an enumeration of particulars which can afford + neither pleasure nor instruction, it may in general be demanded, + what indication is there of national disorder, poverty, and + insignificance that could befall a community so peculiarly blessed + with natural advantages as we are, which does not form a part of the + dark catalogue of our public misfortunes? +This is the melancholy situation to which we have been brought + by those very maxims and councils which would now deter us from + adopting the proposed Constitution; and which, not content with + having conducted us to the brink of a precipice, seem resolved to + plunge us into the abyss that awaits us below. Here, my countrymen, + impelled by every motive that ought to influence an enlightened + people, let us make a firm stand for our safety, our tranquillity, + our dignity, our reputation. Let us at last break the fatal charm + which has too long seduced us from the paths of felicity and + prosperity. +It is true, as has been before observed that facts, too stubborn + to be resisted, have produced a species of general assent to the + abstract proposition that there exist material defects in our + national system; but the usefulness of the concession, on the part + of the old adversaries of federal measures, is destroyed by a + strenuous opposition to a remedy, upon the only principles that can + give it a chance of success. While they admit that the government + of the United States is destitute of energy, they contend against + conferring upon it those powers which are requisite to supply that + energy. They seem still to aim at things repugnant and + irreconcilable; at an augmentation of federal authority, without a + diminution of State authority; at sovereignty in the Union, and + complete independence in the members. They still, in fine, seem to + cherish with blind devotion the political monster of an imperium + in imperio. This renders a full display of the principal defects + of the Confederation necessary, in order to show that the evils we + experience do not proceed from minute or partial imperfections, but + from fundamental errors in the structure of the building, which + cannot be amended otherwise than by an alteration in the first + principles and main pillars of the fabric. +The great and radical vice in the construction of the existing + Confederation is in the principle of LEGISLATION for STATES or + GOVERNMENTS, in their CORPORATE or COLLECTIVE CAPACITIES, and as + contradistinguished from the INDIVIDUALS of which they consist. + Though this principle does not run through all the powers delegated + to the Union, yet it pervades and governs those on which the + efficacy of the rest depends. Except as to the rule of appointment, + the United States has an indefinite discretion to make requisitions + for men and money; but they have no authority to raise either, by + regulations extending to the individual citizens of America. The + consequence of this is, that though in theory their resolutions + concerning those objects are laws, constitutionally binding on the + members of the Union, yet in practice they are mere recommendations + which the States observe or disregard at their option. +It is a singular instance of the capriciousness of the human + mind, that after all the admonitions we have had from experience on + this head, there should still be found men who object to the new + Constitution, for deviating from a principle which has been found + the bane of the old, and which is in itself evidently incompatible + with the idea of GOVERNMENT; a principle, in short, which, if it is + to be executed at all, must substitute the violent and sanguinary + agency of the sword to the mild influence of the magistracy. +There is nothing absurd or impracticable in the idea of a league + or alliance between independent nations for certain defined purposes + precisely stated in a treaty regulating all the details of time, + place, circumstance, and quantity; leaving nothing to future + discretion; and depending for its execution on the good faith of + the parties. Compacts of this kind exist among all civilized + nations, subject to the usual vicissitudes of peace and war, of + observance and non-observance, as the interests or passions of the + contracting powers dictate. In the early part of the present + century there was an epidemical rage in Europe for this species of + compacts, from which the politicians of the times fondly hoped for + benefits which were never realized. With a view to establishing the + equilibrium of power and the peace of that part of the world, all + the resources of negotiation were exhausted, and triple and + quadruple alliances were formed; but they were scarcely formed + before they were broken, giving an instructive but afflicting lesson + to mankind, how little dependence is to be placed on treaties which + have no other sanction than the obligations of good faith, and which + oppose general considerations of peace and justice to the impulse of + any immediate interest or passion. +If the particular States in this country are disposed to stand + in a similar relation to each other, and to drop the project of a + general DISCRETIONARY SUPERINTENDENCE, the scheme would indeed be + pernicious, and would entail upon us all the mischiefs which have + been enumerated under the first head; but it would have the merit + of being, at least, consistent and practicable Abandoning all views + towards a confederate government, this would bring us to a simple + alliance offensive and defensive; and would place us in a situation + to be alternate friends and enemies of each other, as our mutual + jealousies and rivalships, nourished by the intrigues of foreign + nations, should prescribe to us. +But if we are unwilling to be placed in this perilous situation; + if we still will adhere to the design of a national government, or, + which is the same thing, of a superintending power, under the + direction of a common council, we must resolve to incorporate into + our plan those ingredients which may be considered as forming the + characteristic difference between a league and a government; we + must extend the authority of the Union to the persons of the + citizens, --the only proper objects of government. +Government implies the power of making laws. It is essential to + the idea of a law, that it be attended with a sanction; or, in + other words, a penalty or punishment for disobedience. If there be + no penalty annexed to disobedience, the resolutions or commands + which pretend to be laws will, in fact, amount to nothing more than + advice or recommendation. This penalty, whatever it may be, can + only be inflicted in two ways: by the agency of the courts and + ministers of justice, or by military force; by the COERCION of the + magistracy, or by the COERCION of arms. The first kind can + evidently apply only to men; the last kind must of necessity, be + employed against bodies politic, or communities, or States. It is + evident that there is no process of a court by which the observance + of the laws can, in the last resort, be enforced. Sentences may be + denounced against them for violations of their duty; but these + sentences can only be carried into execution by the sword. In an + association where the general authority is confined to the + collective bodies of the communities, that compose it, every breach + of the laws must involve a state of war; and military execution + must become the only instrument of civil obedience. Such a state of + things can certainly not deserve the name of government, nor would + any prudent man choose to commit his happiness to it. +There was a time when we were told that breaches, by the States, + of the regulations of the federal authority were not to be expected; + that a sense of common interest would preside over the conduct of + the respective members, and would beget a full compliance with all + the constitutional requisitions of the Union. This language, at the + present day, would appear as wild as a great part of what we now + hear from the same quarter will be thought, when we shall have + received further lessons from that best oracle of wisdom, experience. + It at all times betrayed an ignorance of the true springs by which + human conduct is actuated, and belied the original inducements to + the establishment of civil power. Why has government been + instituted at all? Because the passions of men will not conform to + the dictates of reason and justice, without constraint. Has it been + found that bodies of men act with more rectitude or greater + disinterestedness than individuals? The contrary of this has been + inferred by all accurate observers of the conduct of mankind; and + the inference is founded upon obvious reasons. Regard to reputation + has a less active influence, when the infamy of a bad action is to + be divided among a number than when it is to fall singly upon one. + A spirit of faction, which is apt to mingle its poison in the + deliberations of all bodies of men, will often hurry the persons of + whom they are composed into improprieties and excesses, for which + they would blush in a private capacity. +In addition to all this, there is, in the nature of sovereign + power, an impatience of control, that disposes those who are + invested with the exercise of it, to look with an evil eye upon all + external attempts to restrain or direct its operations. From this + spirit it happens, that in every political association which is + formed upon the principle of uniting in a common interest a number + of lesser sovereignties, there will be found a kind of eccentric + tendency in the subordinate or inferior orbs, by the operation of + which there will be a perpetual effort in each to fly off from the + common centre. This tendency is not difficult to be accounted for. + It has its origin in the love of power. Power controlled or + abridged is almost always the rival and enemy of that power by which + it is controlled or abridged. This simple proposition will teach us + how little reason there is to expect, that the persons intrusted + with the administration of the affairs of the particular members of + a confederacy will at all times be ready, with perfect good-humor, + and an unbiased regard to the public weal, to execute the + resolutions or decrees of the general authority. The reverse of + this results from the constitution of human nature. +If, therefore, the measures of the Confederacy cannot be + executed without the intervention of the particular administrations, + there will be little prospect of their being executed at all. The + rulers of the respective members, whether they have a constitutional + right to do it or not, will undertake to judge of the propriety of + the measures themselves. They will consider the conformity of the + thing proposed or required to their immediate interests or aims; + the momentary conveniences or inconveniences that would attend its + adoption. All this will be done; and in a spirit of interested and + suspicious scrutiny, without that knowledge of national + circumstances and reasons of state, which is essential to a right + judgment, and with that strong predilection in favor of local + objects, which can hardly fail to mislead the decision. The same + process must be repeated in every member of which the body is + constituted; and the execution of the plans, framed by the councils + of the whole, will always fluctuate on the discretion of the + ill-informed and prejudiced opinion of every part. Those who have + been conversant in the proceedings of popular assemblies; who have + seen how difficult it often is, where there is no exterior pressure + of circumstances, to bring them to harmonious resolutions on + important points, will readily conceive how impossible it must be to + induce a number of such assemblies, deliberating at a distance from + each other, at different times, and under different impressions, + long to co-operate in the same views and pursuits. +In our case, the concurrence of thirteen distinct sovereign + wills is requisite, under the Confederation, to the complete + execution of every important measure that proceeds from the Union. + It has happened as was to have been foreseen. The measures of the + Union have not been executed; the delinquencies of the States have, + step by step, matured themselves to an extreme, which has, at + length, arrested all the wheels of the national government, and + brought them to an awful stand. Congress at this time scarcely + possess the means of keeping up the forms of administration, till + the States can have time to agree upon a more substantial substitute + for the present shadow of a federal government. Things did not come + to this desperate extremity at once. The causes which have been + specified produced at first only unequal and disproportionate + degrees of compliance with the requisitions of the Union. The + greater deficiencies of some States furnished the pretext of example + and the temptation of interest to the complying, or to the least + delinquent States. Why should we do more in proportion than those + who are embarked with us in the same political voyage? Why should + we consent to bear more than our proper share of the common burden? + These were suggestions which human selfishness could not withstand, + and which even speculative men, who looked forward to remote + consequences, could not, without hesitation, combat. Each State, + yielding to the persuasive voice of immediate interest or + convenience, has successively withdrawn its support, till the frail + and tottering edifice seems ready to fall upon our heads, and to + crush us beneath its ruins. +PUBLIUS. +1 ``I mean for the Union.'' + + +FEDERALIST No. 16 + +The Same Subject Continued +(The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the + Union) +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, December 4, 1787. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE tendency of the principle of legislation for States, or + communities, in their political capacities, as it has been + exemplified by the experiment we have made of it, is equally + attested by the events which have befallen all other governments of + the confederate kind, of which we have any account, in exact + proportion to its prevalence in those systems. The confirmations of + this fact will be worthy of a distinct and particular examination. + I shall content myself with barely observing here, that of all the + confederacies of antiquity, which history has handed down to us, the + Lycian and Achaean leagues, as far as there remain vestiges of them, + appear to have been most free from the fetters of that mistaken + principle, and were accordingly those which have best deserved, and + have most liberally received, the applauding suffrages of political + writers. +This exceptionable principle may, as truly as emphatically, be + styled the parent of anarchy: It has been seen that delinquencies + in the members of the Union are its natural and necessary offspring; + and that whenever they happen, the only constitutional remedy is + force, and the immediate effect of the use of it, civil war. +It remains to inquire how far so odious an engine of government, + in its application to us, would even be capable of answering its end. + If there should not be a large army constantly at the disposal of + the national government it would either not be able to employ force + at all, or, when this could be done, it would amount to a war + between parts of the Confederacy concerning the infractions of a + league, in which the strongest combination would be most likely to + prevail, whether it consisted of those who supported or of those who + resisted the general authority. It would rarely happen that the + delinquency to be redressed would be confined to a single member, + and if there were more than one who had neglected their duty, + similarity of situation would induce them to unite for common + defense. Independent of this motive of sympathy, if a large and + influential State should happen to be the aggressing member, it + would commonly have weight enough with its neighbors to win over + some of them as associates to its cause. Specious arguments of + danger to the common liberty could easily be contrived; plausible + excuses for the deficiencies of the party could, without difficulty, + be invented to alarm the apprehensions, inflame the passions, and + conciliate the good-will, even of those States which were not + chargeable with any violation or omission of duty. This would be + the more likely to take place, as the delinquencies of the larger + members might be expected sometimes to proceed from an ambitious + premeditation in their rulers, with a view to getting rid of all + external control upon their designs of personal aggrandizement; the + better to effect which it is presumable they would tamper beforehand + with leading individuals in the adjacent States. If associates + could not be found at home, recourse would be had to the aid of + foreign powers, who would seldom be disinclined to encouraging the + dissensions of a Confederacy, from the firm union of which they had + so much to fear. When the sword is once drawn, the passions of men + observe no bounds of moderation. The suggestions of wounded pride, + the instigations of irritated resentment, would be apt to carry the + States against which the arms of the Union were exerted, to any + extremes necessary to avenge the affront or to avoid the disgrace of + submission. The first war of this kind would probably terminate in + a dissolution of the Union. +This may be considered as the violent death of the Confederacy. + Its more natural death is what we now seem to be on the point of + experiencing, if the federal system be not speedily renovated in a + more substantial form. It is not probable, considering the genius + of this country, that the complying States would often be inclined + to support the authority of the Union by engaging in a war against + the non-complying States. They would always be more ready to pursue + the milder course of putting themselves upon an equal footing with + the delinquent members by an imitation of their example. And the + guilt of all would thus become the security of all. Our past + experience has exhibited the operation of this spirit in its full + light. There would, in fact, be an insuperable difficulty in + ascertaining when force could with propriety be employed. In the + article of pecuniary contribution, which would be the most usual + source of delinquency, it would often be impossible to decide + whether it had proceeded from disinclination or inability. The + pretense of the latter would always be at hand. And the case must + be very flagrant in which its fallacy could be detected with + sufficient certainty to justify the harsh expedient of compulsion. + It is easy to see that this problem alone, as often as it should + occur, would open a wide field for the exercise of factious views, + of partiality, and of oppression, in the majority that happened to + prevail in the national council. +It seems to require no pains to prove that the States ought not + to prefer a national Constitution which could only be kept in motion + by the instrumentality of a large army continually on foot to + execute the ordinary requisitions or decrees of the government. And + yet this is the plain alternative involved by those who wish to deny + it the power of extending its operations to individuals. Such a + scheme, if practicable at all, would instantly degenerate into a + military despotism; but it will be found in every light + impracticable. The resources of the Union would not be equal to the + maintenance of an army considerable enough to confine the larger + States within the limits of their duty; nor would the means ever be + furnished of forming such an army in the first instance. Whoever + considers the populousness and strength of several of these States + singly at the present juncture, and looks forward to what they will + become, even at the distance of half a century, will at once dismiss + as idle and visionary any scheme which aims at regulating their + movements by laws to operate upon them in their collective + capacities, and to be executed by a coercion applicable to them in + the same capacities. A project of this kind is little less romantic + than the monster-taming spirit which is attributed to the fabulous + heroes and demi-gods of antiquity. +Even in those confederacies which have been composed of members + smaller than many of our counties, the principle of legislation for + sovereign States, supported by military coercion, has never been + found effectual. It has rarely been attempted to be employed, but + against the weaker members; and in most instances attempts to + coerce the refractory and disobedient have been the signals of + bloody wars, in which one half of the confederacy has displayed its + banners against the other half. +The result of these observations to an intelligent mind must be + clearly this, that if it be possible at any rate to construct a + federal government capable of regulating the common concerns and + preserving the general tranquillity, it must be founded, as to the + objects committed to its care, upon the reverse of the principle + contended for by the opponents of the proposed Constitution. It + must carry its agency to the persons of the citizens. It must stand + in need of no intermediate legislations; but must itself be + empowered to employ the arm of the ordinary magistrate to execute + its own resolutions. The majesty of the national authority must be + manifested through the medium of the courts of justice. The + government of the Union, like that of each State, must be able to + address itself immediately to the hopes and fears of individuals; + and to attract to its support those passions which have the + strongest influence upon the human heart. It must, in short, + possess all the means, and have aright to resort to all the methods, + of executing the powers with which it is intrusted, that are + possessed and exercised by the government of the particular States. +To this reasoning it may perhaps be objected, that if any State + should be disaffected to the authority of the Union, it could at any + time obstruct the execution of its laws, and bring the matter to the + same issue of force, with the necessity of which the opposite scheme + is reproached. +The plausibility of this objection will vanish the moment we + advert to the essential difference between a mere NON-COMPLIANCE and + a DIRECT and ACTIVE RESISTANCE. If the interposition of the State + legislatures be necessary to give effect to a measure of the Union, + they have only NOT TO ACT, or to ACT EVASIVELY, and the measure is + defeated. This neglect of duty may be disguised under affected but + unsubstantial provisions, so as not to appear, and of course not to + excite any alarm in the people for the safety of the Constitution. + The State leaders may even make a merit of their surreptitious + invasions of it on the ground of some temporary convenience, + exemption, or advantage. +But if the execution of the laws of the national government + should not require the intervention of the State legislatures, if + they were to pass into immediate operation upon the citizens + themselves, the particular governments could not interrupt their + progress without an open and violent exertion of an unconstitutional + power. No omissions nor evasions would answer the end. They would + be obliged to act, and in such a manner as would leave no doubt that + they had encroached on the national rights. An experiment of this + nature would always be hazardous in the face of a constitution in + any degree competent to its own defense, and of a people enlightened + enough to distinguish between a legal exercise and an illegal + usurpation of authority. The success of it would require not merely + a factious majority in the legislature, but the concurrence of the + courts of justice and of the body of the people. If the judges were + not embarked in a conspiracy with the legislature, they would + pronounce the resolutions of such a majority to be contrary to the + supreme law of the land, unconstitutional, and void. If the people + were not tainted with the spirit of their State representatives, + they, as the natural guardians of the Constitution, would throw + their weight into the national scale and give it a decided + preponderancy in the contest. Attempts of this kind would not often + be made with levity or rashness, because they could seldom be made + without danger to the authors, unless in cases of a tyrannical + exercise of the federal authority. +If opposition to the national government should arise from the + disorderly conduct of refractory or seditious individuals, it could + be overcome by the same means which are daily employed against the + same evil under the State governments. The magistracy, being + equally the ministers of the law of the land, from whatever source + it might emanate, would doubtless be as ready to guard the national + as the local regulations from the inroads of private licentiousness. + As to those partial commotions and insurrections, which sometimes + disquiet society, from the intrigues of an inconsiderable faction, + or from sudden or occasional illhumors that do not infect the great + body of the community the general government could command more + extensive resources for the suppression of disturbances of that kind + than would be in the power of any single member. And as to those + mortal feuds which, in certain conjunctures, spread a conflagration + through a whole nation, or through a very large proportion of it, + proceeding either from weighty causes of discontent given by the + government or from the contagion of some violent popular paroxysm, + they do not fall within any ordinary rules of calculation. When + they happen, they commonly amount to revolutions and dismemberments + of empire. No form of government can always either avoid or control + them. It is in vain to hope to guard against events too mighty for + human foresight or precaution, and it would be idle to object to a + government because it could not perform impossibilities. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 17 + +The Same Subject Continued +(The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the + Union) +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +AN OBJECTION, of a nature different from that which has been + stated and answered, in my last address, may perhaps be likewise + urged against the principle of legislation for the individual + citizens of America. It may be said that it would tend to render + the government of the Union too powerful, and to enable it to absorb + those residuary authorities, which it might be judged proper to + leave with the States for local purposes. Allowing the utmost + latitude to the love of power which any reasonable man can require, + I confess I am at a loss to discover what temptation the persons + intrusted with the administration of the general government could + ever feel to divest the States of the authorities of that + description. The regulation of the mere domestic police of a State + appears to me to hold out slender allurements to ambition. + Commerce, finance, negotiation, and war seem to comprehend all the + objects which have charms for minds governed by that passion; and + all the powers necessary to those objects ought, in the first + instance, to be lodged in the national depository. The + administration of private justice between the citizens of the same + State, the supervision of agriculture and of other concerns of a + similar nature, all those things, in short, which are proper to be + provided for by local legislation, can never be desirable cares of a + general jurisdiction. It is therefore improbable that there should + exist a disposition in the federal councils to usurp the powers with + which they are connected; because the attempt to exercise those + powers would be as troublesome as it would be nugatory; and the + possession of them, for that reason, would contribute nothing to the + dignity, to the importance, or to the splendor of the national + government. +But let it be admitted, for argument's sake, that mere + wantonness and lust of domination would be sufficient to beget that + disposition; still it may be safely affirmed, that the sense of the + constituent body of the national representatives, or, in other + words, the people of the several States, would control the + indulgence of so extravagant an appetite. It will always be far + more easy for the State governments to encroach upon the national + authorities than for the national government to encroach upon the + State authorities. The proof of this proposition turns upon the + greater degree of influence which the State governments if they + administer their affairs with uprightness and prudence, will + generally possess over the people; a circumstance which at the same + time teaches us that there is an inherent and intrinsic weakness in + all federal constitutions; and that too much pains cannot be taken + in their organization, to give them all the force which is + compatible with the principles of liberty. +The superiority of influence in favor of the particular + governments would result partly from the diffusive construction of + the national government, but chiefly from the nature of the objects + to which the attention of the State administrations would be + directed. +It is a known fact in human nature, that its affections are + commonly weak in proportion to the distance or diffusiveness of the + object. Upon the same principle that a man is more attached to his + family than to his neighborhood, to his neighborhood than to the + community at large, the people of each State would be apt to feel a + stronger bias towards their local governments than towards the + government of the Union; unless the force of that principle should + be destroyed by a much better administration of the latter. +This strong propensity of the human heart would find powerful + auxiliaries in the objects of State regulation. +The variety of more minute interests, which will necessarily + fall under the superintendence of the local administrations, and + which will form so many rivulets of influence, running through every + part of the society, cannot be particularized, without involving a + detail too tedious and uninteresting to compensate for the + instruction it might afford. +There is one transcendant advantage belonging to the province of + the State governments, which alone suffices to place the matter in a + clear and satisfactory light,--I mean the ordinary administration of + criminal and civil justice. This, of all others, is the most + powerful, most universal, and most attractive source of popular + obedience and attachment. It is that which, being the immediate and + visible guardian of life and property, having its benefits and its + terrors in constant activity before the public eye, regulating all + those personal interests and familiar concerns to which the + sensibility of individuals is more immediately awake, contributes, + more than any other circumstance, to impressing upon the minds of + the people, affection, esteem, and reverence towards the government. + This great cement of society, which will diffuse itself almost + wholly through the channels of the particular governments, + independent of all other causes of influence, would insure them so + decided an empire over their respective citizens as to render them + at all times a complete counterpoise, and, not unfrequently, + dangerous rivals to the power of the Union. +The operations of the national government, on the other hand, + falling less immediately under the observation of the mass of the + citizens, the benefits derived from it will chiefly be perceived and + attended to by speculative men. Relating to more general interests, + they will be less apt to come home to the feelings of the people; + and, in proportion, less likely to inspire an habitual sense of + obligation, and an active sentiment of attachment. +The reasoning on this head has been abundantly exemplified by + the experience of all federal constitutions with which we are + acquainted, and of all others which have borne the least analogy to + them. +Though the ancient feudal systems were not, strictly speaking, + confederacies, yet they partook of the nature of that species of + association. There was a common head, chieftain, or sovereign, + whose authority extended over the whole nation; and a number of + subordinate vassals, or feudatories, who had large portions of land + allotted to them, and numerous trains of INFERIOR vassals or + retainers, who occupied and cultivated that land upon the tenure of + fealty or obedience, to the persons of whom they held it. Each + principal vassal was a kind of sovereign, within his particular + demesnes. The consequences of this situation were a continual + opposition to authority of the sovereign, and frequent wars between + the great barons or chief feudatories themselves. The power of the + head of the nation was commonly too weak, either to preserve the + public peace, or to protect the people against the oppressions of + their immediate lords. This period of European affairs is + emphatically styled by historians, the times of feudal anarchy. +When the sovereign happened to be a man of vigorous and warlike + temper and of superior abilities, he would acquire a personal weight + and influence, which answered, for the time, the purpose of a more + regular authority. But in general, the power of the barons + triumphed over that of the prince; and in many instances his + dominion was entirely thrown off, and the great fiefs were erected + into independent principalities or States. In those instances in + which the monarch finally prevailed over his vassals, his success + was chiefly owing to the tyranny of those vassals over their + dependents. The barons, or nobles, equally the enemies of the + sovereign and the oppressors of the common people, were dreaded and + detested by both; till mutual danger and mutual interest effected a + union between them fatal to the power of the aristocracy. Had the + nobles, by a conduct of clemency and justice, preserved the fidelity + and devotion of their retainers and followers, the contests between + them and the prince must almost always have ended in their favor, + and in the abridgment or subversion of the royal authority. +This is not an assertion founded merely in speculation or + conjecture. Among other illustrations of its truth which might be + cited, Scotland will furnish a cogent example. The spirit of + clanship which was, at an early day, introduced into that kingdom, + uniting the nobles and their dependants by ties equivalent to those + of kindred, rendered the aristocracy a constant overmatch for the + power of the monarch, till the incorporation with England subdued + its fierce and ungovernable spirit, and reduced it within those + rules of subordination which a more rational and more energetic + system of civil polity had previously established in the latter + kingdom. +The separate governments in a confederacy may aptly be compared + with the feudal baronies; with this advantage in their favor, that + from the reasons already explained, they will generally possess the + confidence and good-will of the people, and with so important a + support, will be able effectually to oppose all encroachments of the + national government. It will be well if they are not able to + counteract its legitimate and necessary authority. The points of + similitude consist in the rivalship of power, applicable to both, + and in the CONCENTRATION of large portions of the strength of the + community into particular DEPOSITS, in one case at the disposal of + individuals, in the other case at the disposal of political bodies. +A concise review of the events that have attended confederate + governments will further illustrate this important doctrine; an + inattention to which has been the great source of our political + mistakes, and has given our jealousy a direction to the wrong side. + This review shall form the subject of some ensuing papers. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 18 + +The Same Subject Continued +(The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the + Union) +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON AND MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +AMONG the confederacies of antiquity, the most considerable was + that of the Grecian republics, associated under the Amphictyonic + council. From the best accounts transmitted of this celebrated + institution, it bore a very instructive analogy to the present + Confederation of the American States. +The members retained the character of independent and sovereign + states, and had equal votes in the federal council. This council + had a general authority to propose and resolve whatever it judged + necessary for the common welfare of Greece; to declare and carry on + war; to decide, in the last resort, all controversies between the + members; to fine the aggressing party; to employ the whole force + of the confederacy against the disobedient; to admit new members. + The Amphictyons were the guardians of religion, and of the immense + riches belonging to the temple of Delphos, where they had the right + of jurisdiction in controversies between the inhabitants and those + who came to consult the oracle. As a further provision for the + efficacy of the federal powers, they took an oath mutually to defend + and protect the united cities, to punish the violators of this oath, + and to inflict vengeance on sacrilegious despoilers of the temple. +In theory, and upon paper, this apparatus of powers seems amply + sufficient for all general purposes. In several material instances, + they exceed the powers enumerated in the articles of confederation. + The Amphictyons had in their hands the superstition of the times, + one of the principal engines by which government was then + maintained; they had a declared authority to use coercion against + refractory cities, and were bound by oath to exert this authority on + the necessary occasions. +Very different, nevertheless, was the experiment from the theory. + The powers, like those of the present Congress, were administered + by deputies appointed wholly by the cities in their political + capacities; and exercised over them in the same capacities. Hence + the weakness, the disorders, and finally the destruction of the + confederacy. The more powerful members, instead of being kept in + awe and subordination, tyrannized successively over all the rest. + Athens, as we learn from Demosthenes, was the arbiter of Greece + seventy-three years. The Lacedaemonians next governed it + twenty-nine years; at a subsequent period, after the battle of + Leuctra, the Thebans had their turn of domination. +It happened but too often, according to Plutarch, that the + deputies of the strongest cities awed and corrupted those of the + weaker; and that judgment went in favor of the most powerful party. +Even in the midst of defensive and dangerous wars with Persia + and Macedon, the members never acted in concert, and were, more or + fewer of them, eternally the dupes or the hirelings of the common + enemy. The intervals of foreign war were filled up by domestic + vicissitudes convulsions, and carnage. +After the conclusion of the war with Xerxes, it appears that the + Lacedaemonians required that a number of the cities should be turned + out of the confederacy for the unfaithful part they had acted. The + Athenians, finding that the Lacedaemonians would lose fewer + partisans by such a measure than themselves, and would become + masters of the public deliberations, vigorously opposed and defeated + the attempt. This piece of history proves at once the inefficiency + of the union, the ambition and jealousy of its most powerful + members, and the dependent and degraded condition of the rest. The + smaller members, though entitled by the theory of their system to + revolve in equal pride and majesty around the common center, had + become, in fact, satellites of the orbs of primary magnitude. +Had the Greeks, says the Abbe Milot, been as wise as they were + courageous, they would have been admonished by experience of the + necessity of a closer union, and would have availed themselves of + the peace which followed their success against the Persian arms, to + establish such a reformation. Instead of this obvious policy, + Athens and Sparta, inflated with the victories and the glory they + had acquired, became first rivals and then enemies; and did each + other infinitely more mischief than they had suffered from Xerxes. + Their mutual jealousies, fears, hatreds, and injuries ended in the + celebrated Peloponnesian war; which itself ended in the ruin and + slavery of the Athenians who had begun it. +As a weak government, when not at war, is ever agitated by + internal dissentions, so these never fail to bring on fresh + calamities from abroad. The Phocians having ploughed up some + consecrated ground belonging to the temple of Apollo, the + Amphictyonic council, according to the superstition of the age, + imposed a fine on the sacrilegious offenders. The Phocians, being + abetted by Athens and Sparta, refused to submit to the decree. The + Thebans, with others of the cities, undertook to maintain the + authority of the Amphictyons, and to avenge the violated god. The + latter, being the weaker party, invited the assistance of Philip of + Macedon, who had secretly fostered the contest. Philip gladly + seized the opportunity of executing the designs he had long planned + against the liberties of Greece. By his intrigues and bribes he won + over to his interests the popular leaders of several cities; by + their influence and votes, gained admission into the Amphictyonic + council; and by his arts and his arms, made himself master of the + confederacy. +Such were the consequences of the fallacious principle on which + this interesting establishment was founded. Had Greece, says a + judicious observer on her fate, been united by a stricter + confederation, and persevered in her union, she would never have + worn the chains of Macedon; and might have proved a barrier to the + vast projects of Rome. +The Achaean league, as it is called, was another society of + Grecian republics, which supplies us with valuable instruction. +The Union here was far more intimate, and its organization much + wiser, than in the preceding instance. It will accordingly appear, + that though not exempt from a similar catastrophe, it by no means + equally deserved it. +The cities composing this league retained their municipal + jurisdiction, appointed their own officers, and enjoyed a perfect + equality. The senate, in which they were represented, had the sole + and exclusive right of peace and war; of sending and receiving + ambassadors; of entering into treaties and alliances; of + appointing a chief magistrate or praetor, as he was called, who + commanded their armies, and who, with the advice and consent of ten + of the senators, not only administered the government in the recess + of the senate, but had a great share in its deliberations, when + assembled. According to the primitive constitution, there were two + praetors associated in the administration; but on trial a single + one was preferred. +It appears that the cities had all the same laws and customs, + the same weights and measures, and the same money. But how far this + effect proceeded from the authority of the federal council is left + in uncertainty. It is said only that the cities were in a manner + compelled to receive the same laws and usages. When Lacedaemon was + brought into the league by Philopoemen, it was attended with an + abolition of the institutions and laws of Lycurgus, and an adoption + of those of the Achaeans. The Amphictyonic confederacy, of which + she had been a member, left her in the full exercise of her + government and her legislation. This circumstance alone proves a + very material difference in the genius of the two systems. +It is much to be regretted that such imperfect monuments remain + of this curious political fabric. Could its interior structure and + regular operation be ascertained, it is probable that more light + would be thrown by it on the science of federal government, than by + any of the like experiments with which we are acquainted. +One important fact seems to be witnessed by all the historians + who take notice of Achaean affairs. It is, that as well after the + renovation of the league by Aratus, as before its dissolution by the + arts of Macedon, there was infinitely more of moderation and justice + in the administration of its government, and less of violence and + sedition in the people, than were to be found in any of the cities + exercising SINGLY all the prerogatives of sovereignty. The Abbe + Mably, in his observations on Greece, says that the popular + government, which was so tempestuous elsewhere, caused no disorders + in the members of the Achaean republic, BECAUSE IT WAS THERE + TEMPERED BY THE GENERAL AUTHORITY AND LAWS OF THE CONFEDERACY. +We are not to conclude too hastily, however, that faction did + not, in a certain degree, agitate the particular cities; much less + that a due subordination and harmony reigned in the general system. + The contrary is sufficiently displayed in the vicissitudes and fate + of the republic. +Whilst the Amphictyonic confederacy remained, that of the + Achaeans, which comprehended the less important cities only, made + little figure on the theatre of Greece. When the former became a + victim to Macedon, the latter was spared by the policy of Philip and + Alexander. Under the successors of these princes, however, a + different policy prevailed. The arts of division were practiced + among the Achaeans. Each city was seduced into a separate interest; + the union was dissolved. Some of the cities fell under the tyranny + of Macedonian garrisons; others under that of usurpers springing + out of their own confusions. Shame and oppression erelong awaken + their love of liberty. A few cities reunited. Their example was + followed by others, as opportunities were found of cutting off their + tyrants. The league soon embraced almost the whole Peloponnesus. + Macedon saw its progress; but was hindered by internal dissensions + from stopping it. All Greece caught the enthusiasm and seemed ready + to unite in one confederacy, when the jealousy and envy in Sparta + and Athens, of the rising glory of the Achaeans, threw a fatal damp + on the enterprise. The dread of the Macedonian power induced the + league to court the alliance of the Kings of Egypt and Syria, who, + as successors of Alexander, were rivals of the king of Macedon. + This policy was defeated by Cleomenes, king of Sparta, who was led + by his ambition to make an unprovoked attack on his neighbors, the + Achaeans, and who, as an enemy to Macedon, had interest enough with + the Egyptian and Syrian princes to effect a breach of their + engagements with the league. +The Achaeans were now reduced to the dilemma of submitting to + Cleomenes, or of supplicating the aid of Macedon, its former + oppressor. The latter expedient was adopted. The contests of the + Greeks always afforded a pleasing opportunity to that powerful + neighbor of intermeddling in their affairs. A Macedonian army + quickly appeared. Cleomenes was vanquished. The Achaeans soon + experienced, as often happens, that a victorious and powerful ally + is but another name for a master. All that their most abject + compliances could obtain from him was a toleration of the exercise + of their laws. Philip, who was now on the throne of Macedon, soon + provoked by his tyrannies, fresh combinations among the Greeks. The + Achaeans, though weakened by internal dissensions and by the + revolt of Messene, one of its members, being joined by the AEtolians + and Athenians, erected the standard of opposition. Finding + themselves, though thus supported, unequal to the undertaking, they + once more had recourse to the dangerous expedient of introducing the + succor of foreign arms. The Romans, to whom the invitation was + made, eagerly embraced it. Philip was conquered; Macedon subdued. + A new crisis ensued to the league. Dissensions broke out among it + members. These the Romans fostered. Callicrates and other popular + leaders became mercenary instruments for inveigling their countrymen. + The more effectually to nourish discord and disorder the Romans + had, to the astonishment of those who confided in their sincerity, + already proclaimed universal liberty1 throughout Greece. With + the same insidious views, they now seduced the members from the + league, by representing to their pride the violation it committed on + their sovereignty. By these arts this union, the last hope of + Greece, the last hope of ancient liberty, was torn into pieces; and + such imbecility and distraction introduced, that the arms of Rome + found little difficulty in completing the ruin which their arts had + commenced. The Achaeans were cut to pieces, and Achaia loaded with + chains, under which it is groaning at this hour. +I have thought it not superfluous to give the outlines of this + important portion of history; both because it teaches more than one + lesson, and because, as a supplement to the outlines of the Achaean + constitution, it emphatically illustrates the tendency of federal + bodies rather to anarchy among the members, than to tyranny in the + head. +PUBLIUS. +1 This was but another name more specious for the independence + of the members on the federal head. + + +FEDERALIST No. 19 + +The Same Subject Continued +(The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the + Union) +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON AND MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE examples of ancient confederacies, cited in my last paper, + have not exhausted the source of experimental instruction on this + subject. There are existing institutions, founded on a similar + principle, which merit particular consideration. The first which + presents itself is the Germanic body. +In the early ages of Christianity, Germany was occupied by seven + distinct nations, who had no common chief. The Franks, one of the + number, having conquered the Gauls, established the kingdom which + has taken its name from them. In the ninth century Charlemagne, its + warlike monarch, carried his victorious arms in every direction; + and Germany became a part of his vast dominions. On the + dismemberment, which took place under his sons, this part was + erected into a separate and independent empire. Charlemagne and his + immediate descendants possessed the reality, as well as the ensigns + and dignity of imperial power. But the principal vassals, whose + fiefs had become hereditary, and who composed the national diets + which Charlemagne had not abolished, gradually threw off the yoke + and advanced to sovereign jurisdiction and independence. The force + of imperial sovereignty was insufficient to restrain such powerful + dependants; or to preserve the unity and tranquillity of the empire. + The most furious private wars, accompanied with every species of + calamity, were carried on between the different princes and states. + The imperial authority, unable to maintain the public order, + declined by degrees till it was almost extinct in the anarchy, which + agitated the long interval between the death of the last emperor of + the Suabian, and the accession of the first emperor of the Austrian + lines. In the eleventh century the emperors enjoyed full + sovereignty: In the fifteenth they had little more than the symbols + and decorations of power. +Out of this feudal system, which has itself many of the + important features of a confederacy, has grown the federal system + which constitutes the Germanic empire. Its powers are vested in a + diet representing the component members of the confederacy; in the + emperor, who is the executive magistrate, with a negative on the + decrees of the diet; and in the imperial chamber and the aulic + council, two judiciary tribunals having supreme jurisdiction in + controversies which concern the empire, or which happen among its + members. +The diet possesses the general power of legislating for the + empire; of making war and peace; contracting alliances; assessing + quotas of troops and money; constructing fortresses; regulating + coin; admitting new members; and subjecting disobedient members to + the ban of the empire, by which the party is degraded from his + sovereign rights and his possessions forfeited. The members of the + confederacy are expressly restricted from entering into compacts + prejudicial to the empire; from imposing tolls and duties on their + mutual intercourse, without the consent of the emperor and diet; + from altering the value of money; from doing injustice to one + another; or from affording assistance or retreat to disturbers of + the public peace. And the ban is denounced against such as shall + violate any of these restrictions. The members of the diet, as + such, are subject in all cases to be judged by the emperor and diet, + and in their private capacities by the aulic council and imperial + chamber. +The prerogatives of the emperor are numerous. The most + important of them are: his exclusive right to make propositions to + the diet; to negative its resolutions; to name ambassadors; to + confer dignities and titles; to fill vacant electorates; to found + universities; to grant privileges not injurious to the states of + the empire; to receive and apply the public revenues; and + generally to watch over the public safety. In certain cases, the + electors form a council to him. In quality of emperor, he possesses + no territory within the empire, nor receives any revenue for his + support. But his revenue and dominions, in other qualities, + constitute him one of the most powerful princes in Europe. +From such a parade of constitutional powers, in the + representatives and head of this confederacy, the natural + supposition would be, that it must form an exception to the general + character which belongs to its kindred systems. Nothing would be + further from the reality. The fundamental principle on which it + rests, that the empire is a community of sovereigns, that the diet + is a representation of sovereigns and that the laws are addressed to + sovereigns, renders the empire a nerveless body, incapable of + regulating its own members, insecure against external dangers, and + agitated with unceasing fermentations in its own bowels. +The history of Germany is a history of wars between the emperor + and the princes and states; of wars among the princes and states + themselves; of the licentiousness of the strong, and the oppression + of the weak; of foreign intrusions, and foreign intrigues; of + requisitions of men and money disregarded, or partially complied + with; of attempts to enforce them, altogether abortive, or attended + with slaughter and desolation, involving the innocent with the + guilty; of general inbecility, confusion, and misery. +In the sixteenth century, the emperor, with one part of the + empire on his side, was seen engaged against the other princes and + states. In one of the conflicts, the emperor himself was put to + flight, and very near being made prisoner by the elector of Saxony. + The late king of Prussia was more than once pitted against his + imperial sovereign; and commonly proved an overmatch for him. + Controversies and wars among the members themselves have been so + common, that the German annals are crowded with the bloody pages + which describe them. Previous to the peace of Westphalia, Germany + was desolated by a war of thirty years, in which the emperor, with + one half of the empire, was on one side, and Sweden, with the other + half, on the opposite side. Peace was at length negotiated, and + dictated by foreign powers; and the articles of it, to which + foreign powers are parties, made a fundamental part of the Germanic + constitution. +If the nation happens, on any emergency, to be more united by + the necessity of self-defense, its situation is still deplorable. + Military preparations must be preceded by so many tedious + discussions, arising from the jealousies, pride, separate views, and + clashing pretensions of sovereign bodies, that before the diet can + settle the arrangements, the enemy are in the field; and before the + federal troops are ready to take it, are retiring into winter + quarters. +The small body of national troops, which has been judged + necessary in time of peace, is defectively kept up, badly paid, + infected with local prejudices, and supported by irregular and + disproportionate contributions to the treasury. +The impossibility of maintaining order and dispensing justice + among these sovereign subjects, produced the experiment of dividing + the empire into nine or ten circles or districts; of giving them an + interior organization, and of charging them with the military + execution of the laws against delinquent and contumacious members. + This experiment has only served to demonstrate more fully the + radical vice of the constitution. Each circle is the miniature + picture of the deformities of this political monster. They either + fail to execute their commissions, or they do it with all the + devastation and carnage of civil war. Sometimes whole circles are + defaulters; and then they increase the mischief which they were + instituted to remedy. +We may form some judgment of this scheme of military coercion + from a sample given by Thuanus. In Donawerth, a free and imperial + city of the circle of Suabia, the Abb 300 de St. Croix enjoyed + certain immunities which had been reserved to him. In the exercise + of these, on some public occasions, outrages were committed on him + by the people of the city. The consequence was that the city was + put under the ban of the empire, and the Duke of Bavaria, though + director of another circle, obtained an appointment to enforce it. + He soon appeared before the city with a corps of ten thousand + troops, and finding it a fit occasion, as he had secretly intended + from the beginning, to revive an antiquated claim, on the pretext + that his ancestors had suffered the place to be dismembered from his + territory,1 he took possession of it in his own name, disarmed, + and punished the inhabitants, and reannexed the city to his domains. +It may be asked, perhaps, what has so long kept this disjointed + machine from falling entirely to pieces? The answer is obvious: + The weakness of most of the members, who are unwilling to expose + themselves to the mercy of foreign powers; the weakness of most of + the principal members, compared with the formidable powers all + around them; the vast weight and influence which the emperor + derives from his separate and heriditary dominions; and the + interest he feels in preserving a system with which his family pride + is connected, and which constitutes him the first prince in Europe; + --these causes support a feeble and precarious Union; whilst the + repellant quality, incident to the nature of sovereignty, and which + time continually strengthens, prevents any reform whatever, founded + on a proper consolidation. Nor is it to be imagined, if this + obstacle could be surmounted, that the neighboring powers would + suffer a revolution to take place which would give to the empire the + force and preeminence to which it is entitled. Foreign nations have + long considered themselves as interested in the changes made by + events in this constitution; and have, on various occasions, + betrayed their policy of perpetuating its anarchy and weakness. +If more direct examples were wanting, Poland, as a government + over local sovereigns, might not improperly be taken notice of. Nor + could any proof more striking be given of the calamities flowing + from such institutions. Equally unfit for self-government and + self-defense, it has long been at the mercy of its powerful + neighbors; who have lately had the mercy to disburden it of one + third of its people and territories. +The connection among the Swiss cantons scarcely amounts to a + confederacy; though it is sometimes cited as an instance of the + stability of such institutions. +They have no common treasury; no common troops even in war; no + common coin; no common judicatory; nor any other common mark of + sovereignty. +They are kept together by the peculiarity of their topographical + position; by their individual weakness and insignificancy; by the + fear of powerful neighbors, to one of which they were formerly + subject; by the few sources of contention among a people of such + simple and homogeneous manners; by their joint interest in their + dependent possessions; by the mutual aid they stand in need of, for + suppressing insurrections and rebellions, an aid expressly + stipulated and often required and afforded; and by the necessity of + some regular and permanent provision for accomodating disputes among + the cantons. The provision is, that the parties at variance shall + each choose four judges out of the neutral cantons, who, in case of + disagreement, choose an umpire. This tribunal, under an oath of + impartiality, pronounces definitive sentence, which all the cantons + are bound to enforce. The competency of this regulation may be + estimated by a clause in their treaty of 1683, with Victor Amadeus + of Savoy; in which he obliges himself to interpose as mediator in + disputes between the cantons, and to employ force, if necessary, + against the contumacious party. +So far as the peculiarity of their case will admit of comparison + with that of the United States, it serves to confirm the principle + intended to be established. Whatever efficacy the union may have + had in ordinary cases, it appears that the moment a cause of + difference sprang up, capable of trying its strength, it failed. + The controversies on the subject of religion, which in three + instances have kindled violent and bloody contests, may be said, in + fact, to have severed the league. The Protestant and Catholic + cantons have since had their separate diets, where all the most + important concerns are adjusted, and which have left the general + diet little other business than to take care of the common bailages. +That separation had another consequence, which merits attention. + It produced opposite alliances with foreign powers: of Berne, at + the head of the Protestant association, with the United Provinces; + and of Luzerne, at the head of the Catholic association, with + France. +PUBLIUS. +1 Pfeffel, ``Nouvel Abreg. Chronol. de l'Hist., etc., + d'Allemagne,'' says the pretext was to indemnify himself for the + expense of the expedition. + + +FEDERALIST No. 20 + +The Same Subject Continued +(The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the + Union) +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, December 11, 1787. + +HAMILTON AND MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE United Netherlands are a confederacy of republics, or rather + of aristocracies of a very remarkable texture, yet confirming all + the lessons derived from those which we have already reviewed. +The union is composed of seven coequal and sovereign states, and + each state or province is a composition of equal and independent + cities. In all important cases, not only the provinces but the + cities must be unanimous. +The sovereignty of the Union is represented by the + States-General, consisting usually of about fifty deputies appointed + by the provinces. They hold their seats, some for life, some for + six, three, and one years; from two provinces they continue in + appointment during pleasure. +The States-General have authority to enter into treaties and + alliances; to make war and peace; to raise armies and equip + fleets; to ascertain quotas and demand contributions. In all these + cases, however, unanimity and the sanction of their constituents are + requisite. They have authority to appoint and receive ambassadors; + to execute treaties and alliances already formed; to provide for + the collection of duties on imports and exports; to regulate the + mint, with a saving to the provincial rights; to govern as + sovereigns the dependent territories. The provinces are restrained, + unless with the general consent, from entering into foreign + treaties; from establishing imposts injurious to others, or + charging their neighbors with higher duties than their own subjects. + A council of state, a chamber of accounts, with five colleges of + admiralty, aid and fortify the federal administration. +The executive magistrate of the union is the stadtholder, who is + now an hereditary prince. His principal weight and influence in the + republic are derived from this independent title; from his great + patrimonial estates; from his family connections with some of the + chief potentates of Europe; and, more than all, perhaps, from his + being stadtholder in the several provinces, as well as for the + union; in which provincial quality he has the appointment of town + magistrates under certain regulations, executes provincial decrees, + presides when he pleases in the provincial tribunals, and has + throughout the power of pardon. +As stadtholder of the union, he has, however, considerable + prerogatives. +In his political capacity he has authority to settle disputes + between the provinces, when other methods fail; to assist at the + deliberations of the States-General, and at their particular + conferences; to give audiences to foreign ambassadors, and to keep + agents for his particular affairs at foreign courts. +In his military capacity he commands the federal troops, + provides for garrisons, and in general regulates military affairs; + disposes of all appointments, from colonels to ensigns, and of the + governments and posts of fortified towns. +In his marine capacity he is admiral-general, and superintends + and directs every thing relative to naval forces and other naval + affairs; presides in the admiralties in person or by proxy; + appoints lieutenant-admirals and other officers; and establishes + councils of war, whose sentences are not executed till he approves + them. +His revenue, exclusive of his private income, amounts to three + hundred thousand florins. The standing army which he commands + consists of about forty thousand men. +Such is the nature of the celebrated Belgic confederacy, as + delineated on parchment. What are the characters which practice has + stamped upon it? Imbecility in the government; discord among the + provinces; foreign influence and indignities; a precarious + existence in peace, and peculiar calamities from war. +It was long ago remarked by Grotius, that nothing but the hatred + of his countrymen to the house of Austria kept them from being + ruined by the vices of their constitution. +The union of Utrecht, says another respectable writer, reposes + an authority in the States-General, seemingly sufficient to secure + harmony, but the jealousy in each province renders the practice very + different from the theory. +The same instrument, says another, obliges each province to levy + certain contributions; but this article never could, and probably + never will, be executed; because the inland provinces, who have + little commerce, cannot pay an equal quota. +In matters of contribution, it is the practice to waive the + articles of the constitution. The danger of delay obliges the + consenting provinces to furnish their quotas, without waiting for + the others; and then to obtain reimbursement from the others, by + deputations, which are frequent, or otherwise, as they can. The + great wealth and influence of the province of Holland enable her to + effect both these purposes. +It has more than once happened, that the deficiencies had to be + ultimately collected at the point of the bayonet; a thing + practicable, though dreadful, in a confedracy where one of the + members exceeds in force all the rest, and where several of them are + too small to meditate resistance; but utterly impracticable in one + composed of members, several of which are equal to each other in + strength and resources, and equal singly to a vigorous and + persevering defense. +Foreign ministers, says Sir William Temple, who was himself a + foreign minister, elude matters taken ad referendum, by + tampering with the provinces and cities. In 1726, the treaty of + Hanover was delayed by these means a whole year. Instances of a + like nature are numerous and notorious. +In critical emergencies, the States-General are often compelled + to overleap their constitutional bounds. In 1688, they concluded a + treaty of themselves at the risk of their heads. The treaty of + Westphalia, in 1648, by which their independence was formerly and + finally recognized, was concluded without the consent of Zealand. + Even as recently as the last treaty of peace with Great Britain, + the constitutional principle of unanimity was departed from. A weak + constitution must necessarily terminate in dissolution, for want of + proper powers, or the usurpation of powers requisite for the public + safety. Whether the usurpation, when once begun, will stop at the + salutary point, or go forward to the dangerous extreme, must depend + on the contingencies of the moment. Tyranny has perhaps oftener + grown out of the assumptions of power, called for, on pressing + exigencies, by a defective constitution, than out of the full + exercise of the largest constitutional authorities. +Notwithstanding the calamities produced by the stadtholdership, + it has been supposed that without his influence in the individual + provinces, the causes of anarchy manifest in the confederacy would + long ago have dissolved it. ``Under such a government,'' says the + Abbe Mably, ``the Union could never have subsisted, if the provinces + had not a spring within themselves, capable of quickening their + tardiness, and compelling them to the same way of thinking. This + spring is the stadtholder.'' It is remarked by Sir William Temple, + ``that in the intermissions of the stadtholdership, Holland, by her + riches and her authority, which drew the others into a sort of + dependence, supplied the place.'' +These are not the only circumstances which have controlled the + tendency to anarchy and dissolution. The surrounding powers impose + an absolute necessity of union to a certain degree, at the same time + that they nourish by their intrigues the constitutional vices which + keep the republic in some degree always at their mercy. +The true patriots have long bewailed the fatal tendency of these + vices, and have made no less than four regular experiments by + EXTRAORDINARY ASSEMBLIES, convened for the special purpose, to apply + a remedy. As many times has their laudable zeal found it impossible + to UNITE THE PUBLIC COUNCILS in reforming the known, the + acknowledged, the fatal evils of the existing constitution. Let us + pause, my fellow-citizens, for one moment, over this melancholy and + monitory lesson of history; and with the tear that drops for the + calamities brought on mankind by their adverse opinions and selfish + passions, let our gratitude mingle an ejaculation to Heaven, for the + propitious concord which has distinguished the consultations for our + political happiness. +A design was also conceived of establishing a general tax to be + administered by the federal authority. This also had its + adversaries and failed. +This unhappy people seem to be now suffering from popular + convulsions, from dissensions among the states, and from the actual + invasion of foreign arms, the crisis of their destiny. All nations + have their eyes fixed on the awful spectacle. The first wish + prompted by humanity is, that this severe trial may issue in such a + revolution of their government as will establish their union, and + render it the parent of tranquillity, freedom and happiness: The + next, that the asylum under which, we trust, the enjoyment of these + blessings will speedily be secured in this country, may receive and + console them for the catastrophe of their own. +I make no apology for having dwelt so long on the contemplation + of these federal precedents. Experience is the oracle of truth; + and where its responses are unequivocal, they ought to be + conclusive and sacred. The important truth, which it unequivocally + pronounces in the present case, is that a sovereignty over + sovereigns, a government over governments, a legislation for + communities, as contradistinguished from individuals, as it is a + solecism in theory, so in practice it is subversive of the order and + ends of civil polity, by substituting VIOLENCE in place of LAW, or + the destructive COERCION of the SWORD in place of the mild and + salutary COERCION of the MAGISTRACY. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 21 + +Other Defects of the Present Confederation +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +HAVING in the three last numbers taken a summary review of the + principal circumstances and events which have depicted the genius + and fate of other confederate governments, I shall now proceed in + the enumeration of the most important of those defects which have + hitherto disappointed our hopes from the system established among + ourselves. To form a safe and satisfactory judgment of the proper + remedy, it is absolutely necessary that we should be well acquainted + with the extent and malignity of the disease. +The next most palpable defect of the subsisting Confederation, + is the total want of a SANCTION to its laws. The United States, as + now composed, have no powers to exact obedience, or punish + disobedience to their resolutions, either by pecuniary mulcts, by a + suspension or divestiture of privileges, or by any other + constitutional mode. There is no express delegation of authority to + them to use force against delinquent members; and if such a right + should be ascribed to the federal head, as resulting from the nature + of the social compact between the States, it must be by inference + and construction, in the face of that part of the second article, by + which it is declared, ``that each State shall retain every power, + jurisdiction, and right, not EXPRESSLY delegated to the United + States in Congress assembled.'' There is, doubtless, a striking + absurdity in supposing that a right of this kind does not exist, but + we are reduced to the dilemma either of embracing that supposition, + preposterous as it may seem, or of contravening or explaining away a + provision, which has been of late a repeated theme of the eulogies + of those who oppose the new Constitution; and the want of which, in + that plan, has been the subject of much plausible animadversion, and + severe criticism. If we are unwilling to impair the force of this + applauded provision, we shall be obliged to conclude, that the + United States afford the extraordinary spectacle of a government + destitute even of the shadow of constitutional power to enforce the + execution of its own laws. It will appear, from the specimens which + have been cited, that the American Confederacy, in this particular, + stands discriminated from every other institution of a similar kind, + and exhibits a new and unexampled phenomenon in the political world. +The want of a mutual guaranty of the State governments is + another capital imperfection in the federal plan. There is nothing + of this kind declared in the articles that compose it; and to imply + a tacit guaranty from considerations of utility, would be a still + more flagrant departure from the clause which has been mentioned, + than to imply a tacit power of coercion from the like considerations. + The want of a guaranty, though it might in its consequences + endanger the Union, does not so immediately attack its existence as + the want of a constitutional sanction to its laws. +Without a guaranty the assistance to be derived from the Union + in repelling those domestic dangers which may sometimes threaten the + existence of the State constitutions, must be renounced. Usurpation + may rear its crest in each State, and trample upon the liberties of + the people, while the national government could legally do nothing + more than behold its encroachments with indignation and regret. A + successful faction may erect a tyranny on the ruins of order and + law, while no succor could constitutionally be afforded by the Union + to the friends and supporters of the government. The tempestuous + situation from which Massachusetts has scarcely emerged, evinces + that dangers of this kind are not merely speculative. Who can + determine what might have been the issue of her late convulsions, if + the malcontents had been headed by a Caesar or by a Cromwell? Who + can predict what effect a despotism, established in Massachusetts, + would have upon the liberties of New Hampshire or Rhode Island, of + Connecticut or New York? +The inordinate pride of State importance has suggested to some + minds an objection to the principle of a guaranty in the federal + government, as involving an officious interference in the domestic + concerns of the members. A scruple of this kind would deprive us of + one of the principal advantages to be expected from union, and can + only flow from a misapprehension of the nature of the provision + itself. It could be no impediment to reforms of the State + constitution by a majority of the people in a legal and peaceable + mode. This right would remain undiminished. The guaranty could + only operate against changes to be effected by violence. Towards + the preventions of calamities of this kind, too many checks cannot + be provided. The peace of society and the stability of government + depend absolutely on the efficacy of the precautions adopted on this + head. Where the whole power of the government is in the hands of + the people, there is the less pretense for the use of violent + remedies in partial or occasional distempers of the State. The + natural cure for an ill-administration, in a popular or + representative constitution, is a change of men. A guaranty by the + national authority would be as much levelled against the usurpations + of rulers as against the ferments and outrages of faction and + sedition in the community. +The principle of regulating the contributions of the States to + the common treasury by QUOTAS is another fundamental error in the + Confederation. Its repugnancy to an adequate supply of the national + exigencies has been already pointed out, and has sufficiently + appeared from the trial which has been made of it. I speak of it + now solely with a view to equality among the States. Those who have + been accustomed to contemplate the circumstances which produce and + constitute national wealth, must be satisfied that there is no + common standard or barometer by which the degrees of it can be + ascertained. Neither the value of lands, nor the numbers of the + people, which have been successively proposed as the rule of State + contributions, has any pretension to being a just representative. + If we compare the wealth of the United Netherlands with that of + Russia or Germany, or even of France, and if we at the same time + compare the total value of the lands and the aggregate population of + that contracted district with the total value of the lands and the + aggregate population of the immense regions of either of the three + last-mentioned countries, we shall at once discover that there is no + comparison between the proportion of either of these two objects and + that of the relative wealth of those nations. If the like parallel + were to be run between several of the American States, it would + furnish a like result. Let Virginia be contrasted with North + Carolina, Pennsylvania with Connecticut, or Maryland with New + Jersey, and we shall be convinced that the respective abilities of + those States, in relation to revenue, bear little or no analogy to + their comparative stock in lands or to their comparative population. + The position may be equally illustrated by a similar process + between the counties of the same State. No man who is acquainted + with the State of New York will doubt that the active wealth of + King's County bears a much greater proportion to that of Montgomery + than it would appear to be if we should take either the total value + of the lands or the total number of the people as a criterion! +The wealth of nations depends upon an infinite variety of causes. + Situation, soil, climate, the nature of the productions, the + nature of the government, the genius of the citizens, the degree of + information they possess, the state of commerce, of arts, of + industry, these circumstances and many more, too complex, minute, or + adventitious to admit of a particular specification, occasion + differences hardly conceivable in the relative opulence and riches + of different countries. The consequence clearly is that there can + be no common measure of national wealth, and, of course, no general + or stationary rule by which the ability of a state to pay taxes can + be determined. The attempt, therefore, to regulate the + contributions of the members of a confederacy by any such rule, + cannot fail to be productive of glaring inequality and extreme + oppression. +This inequality would of itself be sufficient in America to work + the eventual destruction of the Union, if any mode of enforcing a + compliance with its requisitions could be devised. The suffering + States would not long consent to remain associated upon a principle + which distributes the public burdens with so unequal a hand, and + which was calculated to impoverish and oppress the citizens of some + States, while those of others would scarcely be conscious of the + small proportion of the weight they were required to sustain. This, + however, is an evil inseparable from the principle of quotas and + requisitions. +There is no method of steering clear of this inconvenience, but + by authorizing the national government to raise its own revenues in + its own way. Imposts, excises, and, in general, all duties upon + articles of consumption, may be compared to a fluid, which will, in + time, find its level with the means of paying them. The amount to + be contributed by each citizen will in a degree be at his own + option, and can be regulated by an attention to his resources. The + rich may be extravagant, the poor can be frugal; and private + oppression may always be avoided by a judicious selection of objects + proper for such impositions. If inequalities should arise in some + States from duties on particular objects, these will, in all + probability, be counterbalanced by proportional inequalities in + other States, from the duties on other objects. In the course of + time and things, an equilibrium, as far as it is attainable in so + complicated a subject, will be established everywhere. Or, if + inequalities should still exist, they would neither be so great in + their degree, so uniform in their operation, nor so odious in their + appearance, as those which would necessarily spring from quotas, + upon any scale that can possibly be devised. +It is a signal advantage of taxes on articles of consumption, + that they contain in their own nature a security against excess. + They prescribe their own limit; which cannot be exceeded without + defeating the end proposed, that is, an extension of the revenue. + When applied to this object, the saying is as just as it is witty, + that, ``in political arithmetic, two and two do not always make four.'' +If duties are too high, they lessen the consumption; the + collection is eluded; and the product to the treasury is not so + great as when they are confined within proper and moderate bounds. + This forms a complete barrier against any material oppression of + the citizens by taxes of this class, and is itself a natural + limitation of the power of imposing them. +Impositions of this kind usually fall under the denomination of + indirect taxes, and must for a long time constitute the chief part + of the revenue raised in this country. Those of the direct kind, + which principally relate to land and buildings, may admit of a rule + of apportionment. Either the value of land, or the number of the + people, may serve as a standard. The state of agriculture and the + populousness of a country have been considered as nearly connected + with each other. And, as a rule, for the purpose intended, numbers, + in the view of simplicity and certainty, are entitled to a + preference. In every country it is a herculean task to obtain a + valuation of the land; in a country imperfectly settled and + progressive in improvement, the difficulties are increased almost to + impracticability. The expense of an accurate valuation is, in all + situations, a formidable objection. In a branch of taxation where + no limits to the discretion of the government are to be found in the + nature of things, the establishment of a fixed rule, not + incompatible with the end, may be attended with fewer inconveniences + than to leave that discretion altogether at large. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 22 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Other Defects of the Present Confederation) +From the New York Packet. +Friday, December 14, 1787. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IN ADDITION to the defects already enumerated in the existing + federal system, there are others of not less importance, which + concur in rendering it altogether unfit for the administration of + the affairs of the Union. +The want of a power to regulate commerce is by all parties + allowed to be of the number. The utility of such a power has been + anticipated under the first head of our inquiries; and for this + reason, as well as from the universal conviction entertained upon + the subject, little need be added in this place. It is indeed + evident, on the most superficial view, that there is no object, + either as it respects the interests of trade or finance, that more + strongly demands a federal superintendence. The want of it has + already operated as a bar to the formation of beneficial treaties + with foreign powers, and has given occasions of dissatisfaction + between the States. No nation acquainted with the nature of our + political association would be unwise enough to enter into + stipulations with the United States, by which they conceded + privileges of any importance to them, while they were apprised that + the engagements on the part of the Union might at any moment be + violated by its members, and while they found from experience that + they might enjoy every advantage they desired in our markets, + without granting us any return but such as their momentary + convenience might suggest. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at + that Mr. Jenkinson, in ushering into the House of Commons a bill for + regulating the temporary intercourse between the two countries, + should preface its introduction by a declaration that similar + provisions in former bills had been found to answer every purpose to + the commerce of Great Britain, and that it would be prudent to + persist in the plan until it should appear whether the American + government was likely or not to acquire greater consistency. [1] +Several States have endeavored, by separate prohibitions, + restrictions, and exclusions, to influence the conduct of that + kingdom in this particular, but the want of concert, arising from + the want of a general authority and from clashing and dissimilar + views in the State, has hitherto frustrated every experiment of the + kind, and will continue to do so as long as the same obstacles to a + uniformity of measures continue to exist. +The interfering and unneighborly regulations of some States, + contrary to the true spirit of the Union, have, in different + instances, given just cause of umbrage and complaint to others, and + it is to be feared that examples of this nature, if not restrained + by a national control, would be multiplied and extended till they + became not less serious sources of animosity and discord than + injurious impediments to the intercourse between the different parts + of the Confederacy. ``The commerce of the German empire [2] is in + continual trammels from the multiplicity of the duties which the + several princes and states exact upon the merchandises passing + through their territories, by means of which the fine streams and + navigable rivers with which Germany is so happily watered are + rendered almost useless.'' Though the genius of the people of this + country might never permit this description to be strictly + applicable to us, yet we may reasonably expect, from the gradual + conflicts of State regulations, that the citizens of each would at + length come to be considered and treated by the others in no better + light than that of foreigners and aliens. +The power of raising armies, by the most obvious construction of + the articles of the Confederation, is merely a power of making + requisitions upon the States for quotas of men. This practice in + the course of the late war, was found replete with obstructions to a + vigorous and to an economical system of defense. It gave birth to a + competition between the States which created a kind of auction for + men. In order to furnish the quotas required of them, they outbid + each other till bounties grew to an enormous and insupportable size. + The hope of a still further increase afforded an inducement to + those who were disposed to serve to procrastinate their enlistment, + and disinclined them from engaging for any considerable periods. + Hence, slow and scanty levies of men, in the most critical + emergencies of our affairs; short enlistments at an unparalleled + expense; continual fluctuations in the troops, ruinous to their + discipline and subjecting the public safety frequently to the + perilous crisis of a disbanded army. Hence, also, those oppressive + expedients for raising men which were upon several occasions + practiced, and which nothing but the enthusiasm of liberty would + have induced the people to endure. +This method of raising troops is not more unfriendly to economy + and vigor than it is to an equal distribution of the burden. The + States near the seat of war, influenced by motives of + self-preservation, made efforts to furnish their quotas, which even + exceeded their abilities; while those at a distance from danger + were, for the most part, as remiss as the others were diligent, in + their exertions. The immediate pressure of this inequality was not + in this case, as in that of the contributions of money, alleviated + by the hope of a final liquidation. The States which did not pay + their proportions of money might at least be charged with their + deficiencies; but no account could be formed of the deficiencies in + the supplies of men. We shall not, however, see much reason to + reget the want of this hope, when we consider how little prospect + there is, that the most delinquent States will ever be able to make + compensation for their pecuniary failures. The system of quotas and + requisitions, whether it be applied to men or money, is, in every + view, a system of imbecility in the Union, and of inequality and + injustice among the members. +The right of equal suffrage among the States is another + exceptionable part of the Confederation. Every idea of proportion + and every rule of fair representation conspire to condemn a + principle, which gives to Rhode Island an equal weight in the scale + of power with Massachusetts, or Connecticut, or New York; and to + Deleware an equal voice in the national deliberations with + Pennsylvania, or Virginia, or North Carolina. Its operation + contradicts the fundamental maxim of republican government, which + requires that the sense of the majority should prevail. Sophistry + may reply, that sovereigns are equal, and that a majority of the + votes of the States will be a majority of confederated America. But + this kind of logical legerdemain will never counteract the plain + suggestions of justice and common-sense. It may happen that this + majority of States is a small minority of the people of + America [3]; and two thirds of the people of America could not + long be persuaded, upon the credit of artificial distinctions and + syllogistic subtleties, to submit their interests to the management + and disposal of one third. The larger States would after a while + revolt from the idea of receiving the law from the smaller. To + acquiesce in such a privation of their due importance in the + political scale, would be not merely to be insensible to the love of + power, but even to sacrifice the desire of equality. It is neither + rational to expect the first, nor just to require the last. The + smaller States, considering how peculiarly their safety and welfare + depend on union, ought readily to renounce a pretension which, if + not relinquished, would prove fatal to its duration. +It may be objected to this, that not seven but nine States, or + two thirds of the whole number, must consent to the most important + resolutions; and it may be thence inferred that nine States would + always comprehend a majority of the Union. But this does not + obviate the impropriety of an equal vote between States of the most + unequal dimensions and populousness; nor is the inference accurate + in point of fact; for we can enumerate nine States which contain + less than a majority of the people [4]; and it is constitutionally + possible that these nine may give the vote. Besides, there are + matters of considerable moment determinable by a bare majority; and + there are others, concerning which doubts have been entertained, + which, if interpreted in favor of the sufficiency of a vote of seven + States, would extend its operation to interests of the first + magnitude. In addition to this, it is to be observed that there is + a probability of an increase in the number of States, and no + provision for a proportional augmentation of the ratio of votes. +But this is not all: what at first sight may seem a remedy, is, + in reality, a poison. To give a minority a negative upon the + majority (which is always the case where more than a majority is + requisite to a decision), is, in its tendency, to subject the sense + of the greater number to that of the lesser. Congress, from the + nonattendance of a few States, have been frequently in the situation + of a Polish diet, where a single VOTE has been sufficient to put a + stop to all their movements. A sixtieth part of the Union, which is + about the proportion of Delaware and Rhode Island, has several times + been able to oppose an entire bar to its operations. This is one of + those refinements which, in practice, has an effect the reverse of + what is expected from it in theory. The necessity of unanimity in + public bodies, or of something approaching towards it, has been + founded upon a supposition that it would contribute to security. + But its real operation is to embarrass the administration, to + destroy the energy of the government, and to substitute the + pleasure, caprice, or artifices of an insignificant, turbulent, or + corrupt junto, to the regular deliberations and decisions of a + respectable majority. In those emergencies of a nation, in which + the goodness or badness, the weakness or strength of its government, + is of the greatest importance, there is commonly a necessity for + action. The public business must, in some way or other, go forward. + If a pertinacious minority can control the opinion of a majority, + respecting the best mode of conducting it, the majority, in order + that something may be done, must conform to the views of the + minority; and thus the sense of the smaller number will overrule + that of the greater, and give a tone to the national proceedings. + Hence, tedious delays; continual negotiation and intrigue; + contemptible compromises of the public good. And yet, in such a + system, it is even happy when such compromises can take place: for + upon some occasions things will not admit of accommodation; and + then the measures of government must be injuriously suspended, or + fatally defeated. It is often, by the impracticability of obtaining + the concurrence of the necessary number of votes, kept in a state of + inaction. Its situation must always savor of weakness, sometimes + border upon anarchy. +It is not difficult to discover, that a principle of this kind + gives greater scope to foreign corruption, as well as to domestic + faction, than that which permits the sense of the majority to + decide; though the contrary of this has been presumed. The mistake + has proceeded from not attending with due care to the mischiefs that + may be occasioned by obstructing the progress of government at + certain critical seasons. When the concurrence of a large number is + required by the Constitution to the doing of any national act, we + are apt to rest satisfied that all is safe, because nothing improper + will be likely TO BE DONE, but we forget how much good may be + prevented, and how much ill may be produced, by the power of + hindering the doing what may be necessary, and of keeping affairs in + the same unfavorable posture in which they may happen to stand at + particular periods. +Suppose, for instance, we were engaged in a war, in conjunction + with one foreign nation, against another. Suppose the necessity of + our situation demanded peace, and the interest or ambition of our + ally led him to seek the prosecution of the war, with views that + might justify us in making separate terms. In such a state of + things, this ally of ours would evidently find it much easier, by + his bribes and intrigues, to tie up the hands of government from + making peace, where two thirds of all the votes were requisite to + that object, than where a simple majority would suffice. In the + first case, he would have to corrupt a smaller number; in the last, + a greater number. Upon the same principle, it would be much easier + for a foreign power with which we were at war to perplex our + councils and embarrass our exertions. And, in a commercial view, we + may be subjected to similar inconveniences. A nation, with which we + might have a treaty of commerce, could with much greater facility + prevent our forming a connection with her competitor in trade, + though such a connection should be ever so beneficial to ourselves. +Evils of this description ought not to be regarded as imaginary. + One of the weak sides of republics, among their numerous + advantages, is that they afford too easy an inlet to foreign + corruption. An hereditary monarch, though often disposed to + sacrifice his subjects to his ambition, has so great a personal + interest in the government and in the external glory of the nation, + that it is not easy for a foreign power to give him an equivalent + for what he would sacrifice by treachery to the state. The world + has accordingly been witness to few examples of this species of + royal prostitution, though there have been abundant specimens of + every other kind. +In republics, persons elevated from the mass of the community, + by the suffrages of their fellow-citizens, to stations of great + pre-eminence and power, may find compensations for betraying their + trust, which, to any but minds animated and guided by superior + virtue, may appear to exceed the proportion of interest they have in + the common stock, and to overbalance the obligations of duty. Hence + it is that history furnishes us with so many mortifying examples of + the prevalency of foreign corruption in republican governments. How + much this contributed to the ruin of the ancient commonwealths has + been already delineated. It is well known that the deputies of the + United Provinces have, in various instances, been purchased by the + emissaries of the neighboring kingdoms. The Earl of Chesterfield + (if my memory serves me right), in a letter to his court, intimates + that his success in an important negotiation must depend on his + obtaining a major's commission for one of those deputies. And in + Sweden the parties were alternately bought by France and England in + so barefaced and notorious a manner that it excited universal + disgust in the nation, and was a principal cause that the most + limited monarch in Europe, in a single day, without tumult, + violence, or opposition, became one of the most absolute and + uncontrolled. +A circumstance which crowns the defects of the Confederation + remains yet to be mentioned, the want of a judiciary power. Laws + are a dead letter without courts to expound and define their true + meaning and operation. The treaties of the United States, to have + any force at all, must be considered as part of the law of the land. + Their true import, as far as respects individuals, must, like all + other laws, be ascertained by judicial determinations. To produce + uniformity in these determinations, they ought to be submitted, in + the last resort, to one SUPREME TRIBUNAL. And this tribunal ought + to be instituted under the same authority which forms the treaties + themselves. These ingredients are both indispensable. If there is + in each State a court of final jurisdiction, there may be as many + different final determinations on the same point as there are courts. + There are endless diversities in the opinions of men. We often + see not only different courts but the judges of the came court + differing from each other. To avoid the confusion which would + unavoidably result from the contradictory decisions of a number of + independent judicatories, all nations have found it necessary to + establish one court paramount to the rest, possessing a general + superintendence, and authorized to settle and declare in the last + resort a uniform rule of civil justice. +This is the more necessary where the frame of the government is + so compounded that the laws of the whole are in danger of being + contravened by the laws of the parts. In this case, if the + particular tribunals are invested with a right of ultimate + jurisdiction, besides the contradictions to be expected from + difference of opinion, there will be much to fear from the bias of + local views and prejudices, and from the interference of local + regulations. As often as such an interference was to happen, there + would be reason to apprehend that the provisions of the particular + laws might be preferred to those of the general laws; for nothing + is more natural to men in office than to look with peculiar + deference towards that authority to which they owe their official + existence. The treaties of the United States, under the present + Constitution, are liable to the infractions of thirteen different + legislatures, and as many different courts of final jurisdiction, + acting under the authority of those legislatures. The faith, the + reputation, the peace of the whole Union, are thus continually at + the mercy of the prejudices, the passions, and the interests of + every member of which it is composed. Is it possible that foreign + nations can either respect or confide in such a government? Is it + possible that the people of America will longer consent to trust + their honor, their happiness, their safety, on so precarious a + foundation? +In this review of the Confederation, I have confined myself to + the exhibition of its most material defects; passing over those + imperfections in its details by which even a great part of the power + intended to be conferred upon it has been in a great measure + rendered abortive. It must be by this time evident to all men of + reflection, who can divest themselves of the prepossessions of + preconceived opinions, that it is a system so radically vicious and + unsound, as to admit not of amendment but by an entire change in its + leading features and characters. +The organization of Congress is itself utterly improper for the + exercise of those powers which are necessary to be deposited in the + Union. A single assembly may be a proper receptacle of those + slender, or rather fettered, authorities, which have been heretofore + delegated to the federal head; but it would be inconsistent with + all the principles of good government, to intrust it with those + additional powers which, even the moderate and more rational + adversaries of the proposed Constitution admit, ought to reside in + the United States. If that plan should not be adopted, and if the + necessity of the Union should be able to withstand the ambitious + aims of those men who may indulge magnificent schemes of personal + aggrandizement from its dissolution, the probability would be, that + we should run into the project of conferring supplementary powers + upon Congress, as they are now constituted; and either the machine, + from the intrinsic feebleness of its structure, will moulder into + pieces, in spite of our ill-judged efforts to prop it; or, by + successive augmentations of its force an energy, as necessity might + prompt, we shall finally accumulate, in a single body, all the most + important prerogatives of sovereignty, and thus entail upon our + posterity one of the most execrable forms of government that human + infatuation ever contrived. Thus, we should create in reality that + very tyranny which the adversaries of the new Constitution either + are, or affect to be, solicitous to avert. +It has not a little contributed to the infirmities of the + existing federal system, that it never had a ratification by the + PEOPLE. Resting on no better foundation than the consent of the + several legislatures, it has been exposed to frequent and intricate + questions concerning the validity of its powers, and has, in some + instances, given birth to the enormous doctrine of a right of + legislative repeal. Owing its ratification to the law of a State, + it has been contended that the same authority might repeal the law + by which it was ratified. However gross a heresy it may be to + maintain that a PARTY to a COMPACT has a right to revoke that + COMPACT, the doctrine itself has had respectable advocates. The + possibility of a question of this nature proves the necessity of + laying the foundations of our national government deeper than in the + mere sanction of delegated authority. The fabric of American empire + ought to rest on the solid basis of THE CONSENT OF THE PEOPLE. The + streams of national power ought to flow immediately from that pure, + original fountain of all legitimate authority. +PUBLIUS. +FNA1-@1 This, as nearly as I can recollect, was the sense of his + speech on introducing the last bill. +FNA1-@2 Encyclopedia, article ``Empire.'' +FNA1-@3 New Hampshire, Rhode Island, New Jersey, Delaware, Georgia, + South Carolina, and Maryland are a majority of the whole number of + the States, but they do not contain one third of the people. +FNA1-@4 Add New York and Connecticut to the foregoing seven, and they + will be less than a majority. + + +FEDERALIST No. 23 + +The Necessity of a Government as Energetic as the One Proposed to + the Preservation of the Union +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, December 18, 1787. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE necessity of a Constitution, at least equally energetic with + the one proposed, to the preservation of the Union, is the point at + the examination of which we are now arrived. +This inquiry will naturally divide itself into three + branches the objects to be provided for by the federal government, + the quantity of power necessary to the accomplishment of those + objects, the persons upon whom that power ought to operate. Its + distribution and organization will more properly claim our attention + under the succeeding head. +The principal purposes to be answered by union are these the + common defense of the members; the preservation of the public peace + as well against internal convulsions as external attacks; the + regulation of commerce with other nations and between the States; + the superintendence of our intercourse, political and commercial, + with foreign countries. +The authorities essential to the common defense are these: to + raise armies; to build and equip fleets; to prescribe rules for + the government of both; to direct their operations; to provide for + their support. These powers ought to exist without limitation, + BECAUSE IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO FORESEE OR DEFINE THE EXTENT AND VARIETY + OF NATIONAL EXIGENCIES, OR THE CORRESPONDENT EXTENT AND VARIETY OF + THE MEANS WHICH MAY BE NECESSARY TO SATISFY THEM. The circumstances + that endanger the safety of nations are infinite, and for this + reason no constitutional shackles can wisely be imposed on the power + to which the care of it is committed. This power ought to be + coextensive with all the possible combinations of such + circumstances; and ought to be under the direction of the same + councils which are appointed to preside over the common defense. +This is one of those truths which, to a correct and unprejudiced + mind, carries its own evidence along with it; and may be obscured, + but cannot be made plainer by argument or reasoning. It rests upon + axioms as simple as they are universal; the MEANS ought to be + proportioned to the END; the persons, from whose agency the + attainment of any END is expected, ought to possess the MEANS by + which it is to be attained. +Whether there ought to be a federal government intrusted with + the care of the common defense, is a question in the first instance, + open for discussion; but the moment it is decided in the + affirmative, it will follow, that that government ought to be + clothed with all the powers requisite to complete execution of its + trust. And unless it can be shown that the circumstances which may + affect the public safety are reducible within certain determinate + limits; unless the contrary of this position can be fairly and + rationally disputed, it must be admitted, as a necessary + consequence, that there can be no limitation of that authority which + is to provide for the defense and protection of the community, in + any matter essential to its efficacy that is, in any matter + essential to the FORMATION, DIRECTION, or SUPPORT of the NATIONAL + FORCES. +Defective as the present Confederation has been proved to be, + this principle appears to have been fully recognized by the framers + of it; though they have not made proper or adequate provision for + its exercise. Congress have an unlimited discretion to make + requisitions of men and money; to govern the army and navy; to + direct their operations. As their requisitions are made + constitutionally binding upon the States, who are in fact under the + most solemn obligations to furnish the supplies required of them, + the intention evidently was that the United States should command + whatever resources were by them judged requisite to the ``common + defense and general welfare.'' It was presumed that a sense of + their true interests, and a regard to the dictates of good faith, + would be found sufficient pledges for the punctual performance of + the duty of the members to the federal head. +The experiment has, however, demonstrated that this expectation + was ill-founded and illusory; and the observations, made under the + last head, will, I imagine, have sufficed to convince the impartial + and discerning, that there is an absolute necessity for an entire + change in the first principles of the system; that if we are in + earnest about giving the Union energy and duration, we must abandon + the vain project of legislating upon the States in their collective + capacities; we must extend the laws of the federal government to + the individual citizens of America; we must discard the fallacious + scheme of quotas and requisitions, as equally impracticable and + unjust. The result from all this is that the Union ought to be + invested with full power to levy troops; to build and equip fleets; + and to raise the revenues which will be required for the formation + and support of an army and navy, in the customary and ordinary modes + practiced in other governments. +If the circumstances of our country are such as to demand a + compound instead of a simple, a confederate instead of a sole, + government, the essential point which will remain to be adjusted + will be to discriminate the OBJECTS, as far as it can be done, which + shall appertain to the different provinces or departments of power; + allowing to each the most ample authority for fulfilling the + objects committed to its charge. Shall the Union be constituted the + guardian of the common safety? Are fleets and armies and revenues + necessary to this purpose? The government of the Union must be + empowered to pass all laws, and to make all regulations which have + relation to them. The same must be the case in respect to commerce, + and to every other matter to which its jurisdiction is permitted to + extend. Is the administration of justice between the citizens of + the same State the proper department of the local governments? + These must possess all the authorities which are connected with + this object, and with every other that may be allotted to their + particular cognizance and direction. Not to confer in each case a + degree of power commensurate to the end, would be to violate the + most obvious rules of prudence and propriety, and improvidently to + trust the great interests of the nation to hands which are disabled + from managing them with vigor and success. +Who is likely to make suitable provisions for the public + defense, as that body to which the guardianship of the public safety + is confided; which, as the centre of information, will best + understand the extent and urgency of the dangers that threaten; as + the representative of the WHOLE, will feel itself most deeply + interested in the preservation of every part; which, from the + responsibility implied in the duty assigned to it, will be most + sensibly impressed with the necessity of proper exertions; and + which, by the extension of its authority throughout the States, can + alone establish uniformity and concert in the plans and measures by + which the common safety is to be secured? Is there not a manifest + inconsistency in devolving upon the federal government the care of + the general defense, and leaving in the State governments the + EFFECTIVE powers by which it is to be provided for? Is not a want + of co-operation the infallible consequence of such a system? And + will not weakness, disorder, an undue distribution of the burdens + and calamities of war, an unnecessary and intolerable increase of + expense, be its natural and inevitable concomitants? Have we not + had unequivocal experience of its effects in the course of the + revolution which we have just accomplished? +Every view we may take of the subject, as candid inquirers after + truth, will serve to convince us, that it is both unwise and + dangerous to deny the federal government an unconfined authority, as + to all those objects which are intrusted to its management. It will + indeed deserve the most vigilant and careful attention of the + people, to see that it be modeled in such a manner as to admit of + its being safely vested with the requisite powers. If any plan + which has been, or may be, offered to our consideration, should not, + upon a dispassionate inspection, be found to answer this + description, it ought to be rejected. A government, the + constitution of which renders it unfit to be trusted with all the + powers which a free people OUGHT TO DELEGATE TO ANY GOVERNMENT, + would be an unsafe and improper depositary of the NATIONAL INTERESTS. + Wherever THESE can with propriety be confided, the coincident + powers may safely accompany them. This is the true result of all + just reasoning upon the subject. And the adversaries of the plan + promulgated by the convention ought to have confined themselves to + showing, that the internal structure of the proposed government was + such as to render it unworthy of the confidence of the people. They + ought not to have wandered into inflammatory declamations and + unmeaning cavils about the extent of the powers. The POWERS are not + too extensive for the OBJECTS of federal administration, or, in + other words, for the management of our NATIONAL INTERESTS; nor can + any satisfactory argument be framed to show that they are chargeable + with such an excess. If it be true, as has been insinuated by some + of the writers on the other side, that the difficulty arises from + the nature of the thing, and that the extent of the country will not + permit us to form a government in which such ample powers can safely + be reposed, it would prove that we ought to contract our views, and + resort to the expedient of separate confederacies, which will move + within more practicable spheres. For the absurdity must continually + stare us in the face of confiding to a government the direction of + the most essential national interests, without daring to trust it to + the authorities which are indispensible to their proper and + efficient management. Let us not attempt to reconcile + contradictions, but firmly embrace a rational alternative. +I trust, however, that the impracticability of one general + system cannot be shown. I am greatly mistaken, if any thing of + weight has yet been advanced of this tendency; and I flatter + myself, that the observations which have been made in the course of + these papers have served to place the reverse of that position in as + clear a light as any matter still in the womb of time and experience + can be susceptible of. This, at all events, must be evident, that + the very difficulty itself, drawn from the extent of the country, is + the strongest argument in favor of an energetic government; for any + other can certainly never preserve the Union of so large an empire. + If we embrace the tenets of those who oppose the adoption of the + proposed Constitution, as the standard of our political creed, we + cannot fail to verify the gloomy doctrines which predict the + impracticability of a national system pervading entire limits of the + present Confederacy. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 24 + +The Powers Necessary to the Common Defense Further Considered +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +To THE powers proposed to be conferred upon the federal + government, in respect to the creation and direction of the national + forces, I have met with but one specific objection, which, if I + understand it right, is this, that proper provision has not been + made against the existence of standing armies in time of peace; an + objection which, I shall now endeavor to show, rests on weak and + unsubstantial foundations. +It has indeed been brought forward in the most vague and general + form, supported only by bold assertions, without the appearance of + argument; without even the sanction of theoretical opinions; in + contradiction to the practice of other free nations, and to the + general sense of America, as expressed in most of the existing + constitutions. The proprietory of this remark will appear, the + moment it is recollected that the objection under consideration + turns upon a supposed necessity of restraining the LEGISLATIVE + authority of the nation, in the article of military establishments; + a principle unheard of, except in one or two of our State + constitutions, and rejected in all the rest. +A stranger to our politics, who was to read our newspapers at + the present juncture, without having previously inspected the plan + reported by the convention, would be naturally led to one of two + conclusions: either that it contained a positive injunction, that + standing armies should be kept up in time of peace; or that it + vested in the EXECUTIVE the whole power of levying troops, without + subjecting his discretion, in any shape, to the control of the + legislature. +If he came afterwards to peruse the plan itself, he would be + surprised to discover, that neither the one nor the other was the + case; that the whole power of raising armies was lodged in the + LEGISLATURE, not in the EXECUTIVE; that this legislature was to be + a popular body, consisting of the representatives of the people + periodically elected; and that instead of the provision he had + supposed in favor of standing armies, there was to be found, in + respect to this object, an important qualification even of the + legislative discretion, in that clause which forbids the + appropriation of money for the support of an army for any longer + period than two years a precaution which, upon a nearer view of it, + will appear to be a great and real security against the keeping up + of troops without evident necessity. +Disappointed in his first surmise, the person I have supposed + would be apt to pursue his conjectures a little further. He would + naturally say to himself, it is impossible that all this vehement + and pathetic declamation can be without some colorable pretext. It + must needs be that this people, so jealous of their liberties, have, + in all the preceding models of the constitutions which they have + established, inserted the most precise and rigid precautions on this + point, the omission of which, in the new plan, has given birth to + all this apprehension and clamor. +If, under this impression, he proceeded to pass in review the + several State constitutions, how great would be his disappointment + to find that TWO ONLY of them [1] contained an interdiction of + standing armies in time of peace; that the other eleven had either + observed a profound silence on the subject, or had in express terms + admitted the right of the Legislature to authorize their existence. +Still, however he would be persuaded that there must be some + plausible foundation for the cry raised on this head. He would + never be able to imagine, while any source of information remained + unexplored, that it was nothing more than an experiment upon the + public credulity, dictated either by a deliberate intention to + deceive, or by the overflowings of a zeal too intemperate to be + ingenuous. It would probably occur to him, that he would be likely + to find the precautions he was in search of in the primitive compact + between the States. Here, at length, he would expect to meet with a + solution of the enigma. No doubt, he would observe to himself, the + existing Confederation must contain the most explicit provisions + against military establishments in time of peace; and a departure + from this model, in a favorite point, has occasioned the discontent + which appears to influence these political champions. +If he should now apply himself to a careful and critical survey + of the articles of Confederation, his astonishment would not only be + increased, but would acquire a mixture of indignation, at the + unexpected discovery, that these articles, instead of containing the + prohibition he looked for, and though they had, with jealous + circumspection, restricted the authority of the State legislatures + in this particular, had not imposed a single restraint on that of + the United States. If he happened to be a man of quick sensibility, + or ardent temper, he could now no longer refrain from regarding + these clamors as the dishonest artifices of a sinister and + unprincipled opposition to a plan which ought at least to receive a + fair and candid examination from all sincere lovers of their + country! How else, he would say, could the authors of them have + been tempted to vent such loud censures upon that plan, about a + point in which it seems to have conformed itself to the general + sense of America as declared in its different forms of government, + and in which it has even superadded a new and powerful guard unknown + to any of them? If, on the contrary, he happened to be a man of + calm and dispassionate feelings, he would indulge a sigh for the + frailty of human nature, and would lament, that in a matter so + interesting to the happiness of millions, the true merits of the + question should be perplexed and entangled by expedients so + unfriendly to an impartial and right determination. Even such a man + could hardly forbear remarking, that a conduct of this kind has too + much the appearance of an intention to mislead the people by + alarming their passions, rather than to convince them by arguments + addressed to their understandings. +But however little this objection may be countenanced, even by + precedents among ourselves, it may be satisfactory to take a nearer + view of its intrinsic merits. From a close examination it will + appear that restraints upon the discretion of the legislature in + respect to military establishments in time of peace, would be + improper to be imposed, and if imposed, from the necessities of + society, would be unlikely to be observed. +Though a wide ocean separates the United States from Europe, yet + there are various considerations that warn us against an excess of + confidence or security. On one side of us, and stretching far into + our rear, are growing settlements subject to the dominion of Britain. + On the other side, and extending to meet the British settlements, + are colonies and establishments subject to the dominion of Spain. + This situation and the vicinity of the West India Islands, + belonging to these two powers create between them, in respect to + their American possessions and in relation to us, a common interest. + The savage tribes on our Western frontier ought to be regarded as + our natural enemies, their natural allies, because they have most to + fear from us, and most to hope from them. The improvements in the + art of navigation have, as to the facility of communication, + rendered distant nations, in a great measure, neighbors. Britain + and Spain are among the principal maritime powers of Europe. A + future concert of views between these nations ought not to be + regarded as improbable. The increasing remoteness of consanguinity + is every day diminishing the force of the family compact between + France and Spain. And politicians have ever with great reason + considered the ties of blood as feeble and precarious links of + political connection. These circumstances combined, admonish us not + to be too sanguine in considering ourselves as entirely out of the + reach of danger. +Previous to the Revolution, and ever since the peace, there has + been a constant necessity for keeping small garrisons on our Western + frontier. No person can doubt that these will continue to be + indispensable, if it should only be against the ravages and + depredations of the Indians. These garrisons must either be + furnished by occasional detachments from the militia, or by + permanent corps in the pay of the government. The first is + impracticable; and if practicable, would be pernicious. The + militia would not long, if at all, submit to be dragged from their + occupations and families to perform that most disagreeable duty in + times of profound peace. And if they could be prevailed upon or + compelled to do it, the increased expense of a frequent rotation of + service, and the loss of labor and disconcertion of the industrious + pursuits of individuals, would form conclusive objections to the + scheme. It would be as burdensome and injurious to the public as + ruinous to private citizens. The latter resource of permanent corps + in the pay of the government amounts to a standing army in time of + peace; a small one, indeed, but not the less real for being small. + Here is a simple view of the subject, that shows us at once the + impropriety of a constitutional interdiction of such establishments, + and the necessity of leaving the matter to the discretion and + prudence of the legislature. +In proportion to our increase in strength, it is probable, nay, + it may be said certain, that Britain and Spain would augment their + military establishments in our neighborhood. If we should not be + willing to be exposed, in a naked and defenseless condition, to + their insults and encroachments, we should find it expedient to + increase our frontier garrisons in some ratio to the force by which + our Western settlements might be annoyed. There are, and will be, + particular posts, the possession of which will include the command + of large districts of territory, and facilitate future invasions of + the remainder. It may be added that some of those posts will be + keys to the trade with the Indian nations. Can any man think it + would be wise to leave such posts in a situation to be at any + instant seized by one or the other of two neighboring and formidable + powers? To act this part would be to desert all the usual maxims of + prudence and policy. +If we mean to be a commercial people, or even to be secure on + our Atlantic side, we must endeavor, as soon as possible, to have a + navy. To this purpose there must be dock-yards and arsenals; and + for the defense of these, fortifications, and probably garrisons. + When a nation has become so powerful by sea that it can protect its + dock-yards by its fleets, this supersedes the necessity of garrisons + for that purpose; but where naval establishments are in their + infancy, moderate garrisons will, in all likelihood, be found an + indispensable security against descents for the destruction of the + arsenals and dock-yards, and sometimes of the fleet itself. +PUBLIUS. +FNA1-@1 This statement of the matter is taken from the printed + collection of State constitutions. Pennsylvania and North Carolina + are the two which contain the interdiction in these words: ``As + standing armies in time of peace are dangerous to liberty, THEY + OUGHT NOT to be kept up.'' This is, in truth, rather a CAUTION than + a PROHIBITION. New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Delaware, and Maryland + have, in each of their bils of rights, a clause to this effect: + ``Standing armies are dangerous to liberty, and ought not to be + raised or kept up WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF THE LEGISLATURE''; which + is a formal admission of the authority of the Legislature. New York + has no bills of rights, and her constitution says not a word about + the matter. No bills of rights appear annexed to the constitutions + of the other States, except the foregoing, and their constitutions + are equally silent. I am told, however that one or two States have + bills of rights which do not appear in this collection; but that + those also recognize the right of the legislative authority in this + respect. + + +FEDERALIST No. 25 + +The Same Subject Continued +(The Powers Necessary to the Common Defense Further Considered) +From the New York Packet. +Friday, December 21, 1787. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT MAY perhaps be urged that the objects enumerated in the + preceding number ought to be provided for by the State governments, + under the direction of the Union. But this would be, in reality, an + inversion of the primary principle of our political association, as + it would in practice transfer the care of the common defense from + the federal head to the individual members: a project oppressive to + some States, dangerous to all, and baneful to the Confederacy. +The territories of Britain, Spain, and of the Indian nations in + our neighborhood do not border on particular States, but encircle + the Union from Maine to Georgia. The danger, though in different + degrees, is therefore common. And the means of guarding against it + ought, in like manner, to be the objects of common councils and of a + common treasury. It happens that some States, from local situation, + are more directly exposed. New York is of this class. Upon the + plan of separate provisions, New York would have to sustain the + whole weight of the establishments requisite to her immediate + safety, and to the mediate or ultimate protection of her neighbors. + This would neither be equitable as it respected New York nor safe + as it respected the other States. Various inconveniences would + attend such a system. The States, to whose lot it might fall to + support the necessary establishments, would be as little able as + willing, for a considerable time to come, to bear the burden of + competent provisions. The security of all would thus be subjected + to the parsimony, improvidence, or inability of a part. If the + resources of such part becoming more abundant and extensive, its + provisions should be proportionally enlarged, the other States would + quickly take the alarm at seeing the whole military force of the + Union in the hands of two or three of its members, and those + probably amongst the most powerful. They would each choose to have + some counterpoise, and pretenses could easily be contrived. In this + situation, military establishments, nourished by mutual jealousy, + would be apt to swell beyond their natural or proper size; and + being at the separate disposal of the members, they would be engines + for the abridgment or demolition of the national authority. +Reasons have been already given to induce a supposition that the + State governments will too naturally be prone to a rivalship with + that of the Union, the foundation of which will be the love of + power; and that in any contest between the federal head and one of + its members the people will be most apt to unite with their local + government. If, in addition to this immense advantage, the ambition + of the members should be stimulated by the separate and independent + possession of military forces, it would afford too strong a + temptation and too great a facility to them to make enterprises + upon, and finally to subvert, the constitutional authority of the + Union. On the other hand, the liberty of the people would be less + safe in this state of things than in that which left the national + forces in the hands of the national government. As far as an army + may be considered as a dangerous weapon of power, it had better be + in those hands of which the people are most likely to be jealous + than in those of which they are least likely to be jealous. For it + is a truth, which the experience of ages has attested, that the + people are always most in danger when the means of injuring their + rights are in the possession of those of whom they entertain the + least suspicion. +The framers of the existing Confederation, fully aware of the + danger to the Union from the separate possession of military forces + by the States, have, in express terms, prohibited them from having + either ships or troops, unless with the consent of Congress. The + truth is, that the existence of a federal government and military + establishments under State authority are not less at variance with + each other than a due supply of the federal treasury and the system + of quotas and requisitions. +There are other lights besides those already taken notice of, in + which the impropriety of restraints on the discretion of the + national legislature will be equally manifest. The design of the + objection, which has been mentioned, is to preclude standing armies + in time of peace, though we have never been informed how far it is + designed the prohibition should extend; whether to raising armies + as well as to KEEPING THEM UP in a season of tranquillity or not. + If it be confined to the latter it will have no precise + signification, and it will be ineffectual for the purpose intended. + When armies are once raised what shall be denominated ``keeping + them up,'' contrary to the sense of the Constitution? What time + shall be requisite to ascertain the violation? Shall it be a week, + a month, a year? Or shall we say they may be continued as long as + the danger which occasioned their being raised continues? This + would be to admit that they might be kept up IN TIME OF PEACE, + against threatening or impending danger, which would be at once to + deviate from the literal meaning of the prohibition, and to + introduce an extensive latitude of construction. Who shall judge of + the continuance of the danger? This must undoubtedly be submitted + to the national government, and the matter would then be brought to + this issue, that the national government, to provide against + apprehended danger, might in the first instance raise troops, and + might afterwards keep them on foot as long as they supposed the + peace or safety of the community was in any degree of jeopardy. It + is easy to perceive that a discretion so latitudinary as this would + afford ample room for eluding the force of the provision. +The supposed utility of a provision of this kind can only be + founded on the supposed probability, or at least possibility, of a + combination between the executive and the legislative, in some + scheme of usurpation. Should this at any time happen, how easy + would it be to fabricate pretenses of approaching danger! Indian + hostilities, instigated by Spain or Britain, would always be at hand. + Provocations to produce the desired appearances might even be + given to some foreign power, and appeased again by timely + concessions. If we can reasonably presume such a combination to + have been formed, and that the enterprise is warranted by a + sufficient prospect of success, the army, when once raised, from + whatever cause, or on whatever pretext, may be applied to the + execution of the project. +If, to obviate this consequence, it should be resolved to extend + the prohibition to the RAISING of armies in time of peace, the + United States would then exhibit the most extraordinary spectacle + which the world has yet seen, that of a nation incapacitated by its + Constitution to prepare for defense, before it was actually invaded. + As the ceremony of a formal denunciation of war has of late fallen + into disuse, the presence of an enemy within our territories must be + waited for, as the legal warrant to the government to begin its + levies of men for the protection of the State. We must receive the + blow, before we could even prepare to return it. All that kind of + policy by which nations anticipate distant danger, and meet the + gathering storm, must be abstained from, as contrary to the genuine + maxims of a free government. We must expose our property and + liberty to the mercy of foreign invaders, and invite them by our + weakness to seize the naked and defenseless prey, because we are + afraid that rulers, created by our choice, dependent on our will, + might endanger that liberty, by an abuse of the means necessary to + its preservation. +Here I expect we shall be told that the militia of the country + is its natural bulwark, and would be at all times equal to the + national defense. This doctrine, in substance, had like to have + lost us our independence. It cost millions to the United States + that might have been saved. The facts which, from our own + experience, forbid a reliance of this kind, are too recent to permit + us to be the dupes of such a suggestion. The steady operations of + war against a regular and disciplined army can only be successfully + conducted by a force of the same kind. Considerations of economy, + not less than of stability and vigor, confirm this position. The + American militia, in the course of the late war, have, by their + valor on numerous occasions, erected eternal monuments to their + fame; but the bravest of them feel and know that the liberty of + their country could not have been established by their efforts + alone, however great and valuable they were. War, like most other + things, is a science to be acquired and perfected by diligence, by + perserverance, by time, and by practice. +All violent policy, as it is contrary to the natural and + experienced course of human affairs, defeats itself. Pennsylvania, + at this instant, affords an example of the truth of this remark. + The Bill of Rights of that State declares that standing armies are + dangerous to liberty, and ought not to be kept up in time of peace. + Pennsylvania, nevertheless, in a time of profound peace, from the + existence of partial disorders in one or two of her counties, has + resolved to raise a body of troops; and in all probability will + keep them up as long as there is any appearance of danger to the + public peace. The conduct of Massachusetts affords a lesson on the + same subject, though on different ground. That State (without + waiting for the sanction of Congress, as the articles of the + Confederation require) was compelled to raise troops to quell a + domestic insurrection, and still keeps a corps in pay to prevent a + revival of the spirit of revolt. The particular constitution of + Massachusetts opposed no obstacle to the measure; but the instance + is still of use to instruct us that cases are likely to occur under + our government, as well as under those of other nations, which will + sometimes render a military force in time of peace essential to the + security of the society, and that it is therefore improper in this + respect to control the legislative discretion. It also teaches us, + in its application to the United States, how little the rights of a + feeble government are likely to be respected, even by its own + constituents. And it teaches us, in addition to the rest, how + unequal parchment provisions are to a struggle with public necessity. +It was a fundamental maxim of the Lacedaemonian commonwealth, + that the post of admiral should not be conferred twice on the same + person. The Peloponnesian confederates, having suffered a severe + defeat at sea from the Athenians, demanded Lysander, who had before + served with success in that capacity, to command the combined fleets. + The Lacedaemonians, to gratify their allies, and yet preserve the + semblance of an adherence to their ancient institutions, had + recourse to the flimsy subterfuge of investing Lysander with the + real power of admiral, under the nominal title of vice-admiral. + This instance is selected from among a multitude that might be + cited to confirm the truth already advanced and illustrated by + domestic examples; which is, that nations pay little regard to + rules and maxims calculated in their very nature to run counter to + the necessities of society. Wise politicians will be cautious about + fettering the government with restrictions that cannot be observed, + because they know that every breach of the fundamental laws, though + dictated by necessity, impairs that sacred reverence which ought to + be maintained in the breast of rulers towards the constitution of a + country, and forms a precedent for other breaches where the same + plea of necessity does not exist at all, or is less urgent and + palpable. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 26 + +The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to the + Common Defense Considered +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT WAS a thing hardly to be expected that in a popular + revolution the minds of men should stop at that happy mean which + marks the salutary boundary between POWER and PRIVILEGE, and + combines the energy of government with the security of private + rights. A failure in this delicate and important point is the great + source of the inconveniences we experience, and if we are not + cautious to avoid a repetition of the error, in our future attempts + to rectify and ameliorate our system, we may travel from one + chimerical project to another; we may try change after change; but + we shall never be likely to make any material change for the better. +The idea of restraining the legislative authority, in the means + of providing for the national defense, is one of those refinements + which owe their origin to a zeal for liberty more ardent than + enlightened. We have seen, however, that it has not had thus far an + extensive prevalency; that even in this country, where it made its + first appearance, Pennsylvania and North Carolina are the only two + States by which it has been in any degree patronized; and that all + the others have refused to give it the least countenance; wisely + judging that confidence must be placed somewhere; that the + necessity of doing it, is implied in the very act of delegating + power; and that it is better to hazard the abuse of that confidence + than to embarrass the government and endanger the public safety by + impolitic restrictions on the legislative authority. The opponents + of the proposed Constitution combat, in this respect, the general + decision of America; and instead of being taught by experience the + propriety of correcting any extremes into which we may have + heretofore run, they appear disposed to conduct us into others still + more dangerous, and more extravagant. As if the tone of government + had been found too high, or too rigid, the doctrines they teach are + calculated to induce us to depress or to relax it, by expedients + which, upon other occasions, have been condemned or forborne. It + may be affirmed without the imputation of invective, that if the + principles they inculcate, on various points, could so far obtain as + to become the popular creed, they would utterly unfit the people of + this country for any species of government whatever. But a danger + of this kind is not to be apprehended. The citizens of America have + too much discernment to be argued into anarchy. And I am much + mistaken, if experience has not wrought a deep and solemn conviction + in the public mind, that greater energy of government is essential + to the welfare and prosperity of the community. +It may not be amiss in this place concisely to remark the origin + and progress of the idea, which aims at the exclusion of military + establishments in time of peace. Though in speculative minds it may + arise from a contemplation of the nature and tendency of such + institutions, fortified by the events that have happened in other + ages and countries, yet as a national sentiment, it must be traced + to those habits of thinking which we derive from the nation from + whom the inhabitants of these States have in general sprung. +In England, for a long time after the Norman Conquest, the + authority of the monarch was almost unlimited. Inroads were + gradually made upon the prerogative, in favor of liberty, first by + the barons, and afterwards by the people, till the greatest part of + its most formidable pretensions became extinct. But it was not till + the revolution in 1688, which elevated the Prince of Orange to the + throne of Great Britain, that English liberty was completely + triumphant. As incident to the undefined power of making war, an + acknowledged prerogative of the crown, Charles II. had, by his own + authority, kept on foot in time of peace a body of 5,000 regular + troops. And this number James II. increased to 30,000; who were + paid out of his civil list. At the revolution, to abolish the + exercise of so dangerous an authority, it became an article of the + Bill of Rights then framed, that ``the raising or keeping a standing + army within the kingdom in time of peace, UNLESS WITH THE CONSENT OF + PARLIAMENT, was against law.'' +In that kingdom, when the pulse of liberty was at its highest + pitch, no security against the danger of standing armies was thought + requisite, beyond a prohibition of their being raised or kept up by + the mere authority of the executive magistrate. The patriots, who + effected that memorable revolution, were too temperate, too + wellinformed, to think of any restraint on the legislative + discretion. They were aware that a certain number of troops for + guards and garrisons were indispensable; that no precise bounds + could be set to the national exigencies; that a power equal to + every possible contingency must exist somewhere in the government: + and that when they referred the exercise of that power to the + judgment of the legislature, they had arrived at the ultimate point + of precaution which was reconcilable with the safety of the + community. +From the same source, the people of America may be said to have + derived an hereditary impression of danger to liberty, from standing + armies in time of peace. The circumstances of a revolution + quickened the public sensibility on every point connected with the + security of popular rights, and in some instances raise the warmth + of our zeal beyond the degree which consisted with the due + temperature of the body politic. The attempts of two of the States + to restrict the authority of the legislature in the article of + military establishments, are of the number of these instances. The + principles which had taught us to be jealous of the power of an + hereditary monarch were by an injudicious excess extended to the + representatives of the people in their popular assemblies. Even in + some of the States, where this error was not adopted, we find + unnecessary declarations that standing armies ought not to be kept + up, in time of peace, WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF THE LEGISLATURE. I + call them unnecessary, because the reason which had introduced a + similar provision into the English Bill of Rights is not applicable + to any of the State constitutions. The power of raising armies at + all, under those constitutions, can by no construction be deemed to + reside anywhere else, than in the legislatures themselves; and it + was superfluous, if not absurd, to declare that a matter should not + be done without the consent of a body, which alone had the power of + doing it. Accordingly, in some of these constitutions, and among + others, in that of this State of New York, which has been justly + celebrated, both in Europe and America, as one of the best of the + forms of government established in this country, there is a total + silence upon the subject. +It is remarkable, that even in the two States which seem to have + meditated an interdiction of military establishments in time of + peace, the mode of expression made use of is rather cautionary than + prohibitory. It is not said, that standing armies SHALL NOT BE kept + up, but that they OUGHT NOT to be kept up, in time of peace. This + ambiguity of terms appears to have been the result of a conflict + between jealousy and conviction; between the desire of excluding + such establishments at all events, and the persuasion that an + absolute exclusion would be unwise and unsafe. +Can it be doubted that such a provision, whenever the situation + of public affairs was understood to require a departure from it, + would be interpreted by the legislature into a mere admonition, and + would be made to yield to the necessities or supposed necessities of + the State? Let the fact already mentioned, with respect to + Pennsylvania, decide. What then (it may be asked) is the use of + such a provision, if it cease to operate the moment there is an + inclination to disregard it? +Let us examine whether there be any comparison, in point of + efficacy, between the provision alluded to and that which is + contained in the new Constitution, for restraining the + appropriations of money for military purposes to the period of two + years. The former, by aiming at too much, is calculated to effect + nothing; the latter, by steering clear of an imprudent extreme, and + by being perfectly compatible with a proper provision for the + exigencies of the nation, will have a salutary and powerful + operation. +The legislature of the United States will be OBLIGED, by this + provision, once at least in every two years, to deliberate upon the + propriety of keeping a military force on foot; to come to a new + resolution on the point; and to declare their sense of the matter, + by a formal vote in the face of their constituents. They are not AT + LIBERTY to vest in the executive department permanent funds for the + support of an army, if they were even incautious enough to be + willing to repose in it so improper a confidence. As the spirit of + party, in different degrees, must be expected to infect all + political bodies, there will be, no doubt, persons in the national + legislature willing enough to arraign the measures and criminate the + views of the majority. The provision for the support of a military + force will always be a favorable topic for declamation. As often as + the question comes forward, the public attention will be roused and + attracted to the subject, by the party in opposition; and if the + majority should be really disposed to exceed the proper limits, the + community will be warned of the danger, and will have an opportunity + of taking measures to guard against it. Independent of parties in + the national legislature itself, as often as the period of + discussion arrived, the State legislatures, who will always be not + only vigilant but suspicious and jealous guardians of the rights of + the citizens against encroachments from the federal government, will + constantly have their attention awake to the conduct of the national + rulers, and will be ready enough, if any thing improper appears, to + sound the alarm to the people, and not only to be the VOICE, but, if + necessary, the ARM of their discontent. +Schemes to subvert the liberties of a great community REQUIRE + TIME to mature them for execution. An army, so large as seriously + to menace those liberties, could only be formed by progressive + augmentations; which would suppose, not merely a temporary + combination between the legislature and executive, but a continued + conspiracy for a series of time. Is it probable that such a + combination would exist at all? Is it probable that it would be + persevered in, and transmitted along through all the successive + variations in a representative body, which biennial elections would + naturally produce in both houses? Is it presumable, that every man, + the instant he took his seat in the national Senate or House of + Representatives, would commence a traitor to his constituents and to + his country? Can it be supposed that there would not be found one + man, discerning enough to detect so atrocious a conspiracy, or bold + or honest enough to apprise his constituents of their danger? If + such presumptions can fairly be made, there ought at once to be an + end of all delegated authority. The people should resolve to recall + all the powers they have heretofore parted with out of their own + hands, and to divide themselves into as many States as there are + counties, in order that they may be able to manage their own + concerns in person. +If such suppositions could even be reasonably made, still the + concealment of the design, for any duration, would be impracticable. + It would be announced, by the very circumstance of augmenting the + army to so great an extent in time of profound peace. What + colorable reason could be assigned, in a country so situated, for + such vast augmentations of the military force? It is impossible + that the people could be long deceived; and the destruction of the + project, and of the projectors, would quickly follow the discovery. +It has been said that the provision which limits the + appropriation of money for the support of an army to the period of + two years would be unavailing, because the Executive, when once + possessed of a force large enough to awe the people into submission, + would find resources in that very force sufficient to enable him to + dispense with supplies from the acts of the legislature. But the + question again recurs, upon what pretense could he be put in + possession of a force of that magnitude in time of peace? If we + suppose it to have been created in consequence of some domestic + insurrection or foreign war, then it becomes a case not within the + principles of the objection; for this is levelled against the power + of keeping up troops in time of peace. Few persons will be so + visionary as seriously to contend that military forces ought not to + be raised to quell a rebellion or resist an invasion; and if the + defense of the community under such circumstances should make it + necessary to have an army so numerous as to hazard its liberty, this + is one of those calamaties for which there is neither preventative + nor cure. It cannot be provided against by any possible form of + government; it might even result from a simple league offensive and + defensive, if it should ever be necessary for the confederates or + allies to form an army for common defense. +But it is an evil infinitely less likely to attend us in a + united than in a disunited state; nay, it may be safely asserted + that it is an evil altogether unlikely to attend us in the latter + situation. It is not easy to conceive a possibility that dangers so + formidable can assail the whole Union, as to demand a force + considerable enough to place our liberties in the least jeopardy, + especially if we take into our view the aid to be derived from the + militia, which ought always to be counted upon as a valuable and + powerful auxiliary. But in a state of disunion (as has been fully + shown in another place), the contrary of this supposition would + become not only probable, but almost unavoidable. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 27 + +The Same Subject Continued +(The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to + the Common Defense Considered) +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, December 25, 1787. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT HAS been urged, in different shapes, that a Constitution of + the kind proposed by the convention cannot operate without the aid + of a military force to execute its laws. This, however, like most + other things that have been alleged on that side, rests on mere + general assertion, unsupported by any precise or intelligible + designation of the reasons upon which it is founded. As far as I + have been able to divine the latent meaning of the objectors, it + seems to originate in a presupposition that the people will be + disinclined to the exercise of federal authority in any matter of an + internal nature. Waiving any exception that might be taken to the + inaccuracy or inexplicitness of the distinction between internal and + external, let us inquire what ground there is to presuppose that + disinclination in the people. Unless we presume at the same time + that the powers of the general government will be worse administered + than those of the State government, there seems to be no room for + the presumption of ill-will, disaffection, or opposition in the + people. I believe it may be laid down as a general rule that their + confidence in and obedience to a government will commonly be + proportioned to the goodness or badness of its administration. It + must be admitted that there are exceptions to this rule; but these + exceptions depend so entirely on accidental causes, that they cannot + be considered as having any relation to the intrinsic merits or + demerits of a constitution. These can only be judged of by general + principles and maxims. +Various reasons have been suggested, in the course of these + papers, to induce a probability that the general government will be + better administered than the particular governments; the principal + of which reasons are that the extension of the spheres of election + will present a greater option, or latitude of choice, to the people; + that through the medium of the State legislatures which are select + bodies of men, and which are to appoint the members of the national + Senate there is reason to expect that this branch will generally be + composed with peculiar care and judgment; that these circumstances + promise greater knowledge and more extensive information in the + national councils, and that they will be less apt to be tainted by + the spirit of faction, and more out of the reach of those occasional + ill-humors, or temporary prejudices and propensities, which, in + smaller societies, frequently contaminate the public councils, beget + injustice and oppression of a part of the community, and engender + schemes which, though they gratify a momentary inclination or + desire, terminate in general distress, dissatisfaction, and disgust. + Several additional reasons of considerable force, to fortify that + probability, will occur when we come to survey, with a more critical + eye, the interior structure of the edifice which we are invited to + erect. It will be sufficient here to remark, that until + satisfactory reasons can be assigned to justify an opinion, that the + federal government is likely to be administered in such a manner as + to render it odious or contemptible to the people, there can be no + reasonable foundation for the supposition that the laws of the Union + will meet with any greater obstruction from them, or will stand in + need of any other methods to enforce their execution, than the laws + of the particular members. +The hope of impunity is a strong incitement to sedition; the + dread of punishment, a proportionably strong discouragement to it. + Will not the government of the Union, which, if possessed of a due + degree of power, can call to its aid the collective resources of the + whole Confederacy, be more likely to repress the FORMER sentiment + and to inspire the LATTER, than that of a single State, which can + only command the resources within itself? A turbulent faction in a + State may easily suppose itself able to contend with the friends to + the government in that State; but it can hardly be so infatuated as + to imagine itself a match for the combined efforts of the Union. If + this reflection be just, there is less danger of resistance from + irregular combinations of individuals to the authority of the + Confederacy than to that of a single member. +I will, in this place, hazard an observation, which will not be + the less just because to some it may appear new; which is, that the + more the operations of the national authority are intermingled in + the ordinary exercise of government, the more the citizens are + accustomed to meet with it in the common occurrences of their + political life, the more it is familiarized to their sight and to + their feelings, the further it enters into those objects which touch + the most sensible chords and put in motion the most active springs + of the human heart, the greater will be the probability that it will + conciliate the respect and attachment of the community. Man is very + much a creature of habit. A thing that rarely strikes his senses + will generally have but little influence upon his mind. A + government continually at a distance and out of sight can hardly be + expected to interest the sensations of the people. The inference + is, that the authority of the Union, and the affections of the + citizens towards it, will be strengthened, rather than weakened, by + its extension to what are called matters of internal concern; and + will have less occasion to recur to force, in proportion to the + familiarity and comprehensiveness of its agency. The more it + circulates through those channels and currents in which the passions + of mankind naturally flow, the less will it require the aid of the + violent and perilous expedients of compulsion. +One thing, at all events, must be evident, that a government + like the one proposed would bid much fairer to avoid the necessity + of using force, than that species of league contend for by most of + its opponents; the authority of which should only operate upon the + States in their political or collective capacities. It has been + shown that in such a Confederacy there can be no sanction for the + laws but force; that frequent delinquencies in the members are the + natural offspring of the very frame of the government; and that as + often as these happen, they can only be redressed, if at all, by war + and violence. +The plan reported by the convention, by extending the authority + of the federal head to the individual citizens of the several + States, will enable the government to employ the ordinary magistracy + of each, in the execution of its laws. It is easy to perceive that + this will tend to destroy, in the common apprehension, all + distinction between the sources from which they might proceed; and + will give the federal government the same advantage for securing a + due obedience to its authority which is enjoyed by the government of + each State, in addition to the influence on public opinion which + will result from the important consideration of its having power to + call to its assistance and support the resources of the whole Union. + It merits particular attention in this place, that the laws of the + Confederacy, as to the ENUMERATED and LEGITIMATE objects of its + jurisdiction, will become the SUPREME LAW of the land; to the + observance of which all officers, legislative, executive, and + judicial, in each State, will be bound by the sanctity of an oath. + Thus the legislatures, courts, and magistrates, of the respective + members, will be incorporated into the operations of the national + government AS FAR AS ITS JUST AND CONSTITUTIONAL AUTHORITY EXTENDS; + and will be rendered auxiliary to the enforcement of its laws. [1%] + Any man who will pursue, by his own reflections, the consequences + of this situation, will perceive that there is good ground to + calculate upon a regular and peaceable execution of the laws of the + Union, if its powers are administered with a common share of + prudence. If we will arbitrarily suppose the contrary, we may + deduce any inferences we please from the supposition; for it is + certainly possible, by an injudicious exercise of the authorities of + the best government that ever was, or ever can be instituted, to + provoke and precipitate the people into the wildest excesses. But + though the adversaries of the proposed Constitution should presume + that the national rulers would be insensible to the motives of + public good, or to the obligations of duty, I would still ask them + how the interests of ambition, or the views of encroachment, can be + promoted by such a conduct? +PUBLIUS. +FNA1-@1 The sophistry which has been employed to show that this will + tend to the destruction of the State governments, will, in its will, + in its proper place, be fully detected. + + +FEDERALIST No. 28 + +The Same Subject Continued +(The Idea of Restraining the Legislative Authority in Regard to + the Common Defense Considered) +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THAT there may happen cases in which the national government may + be necessitated to resort to force, cannot be denied. Our own + experience has corroborated the lessons taught by the examples of + other nations; that emergencies of this sort will sometimes arise + in all societies, however constituted; that seditions and + insurrections are, unhappily, maladies as inseparable from the body + politic as tumors and eruptions from the natural body; that the + idea of governing at all times by the simple force of law (which we + have been told is the only admissible principle of republican + government), has no place but in the reveries of those political + doctors whose sagacity disdains the admonitions of experimental + instruction. +Should such emergencies at any time happen under the national + government, there could be no remedy but force. The means to be + employed must be proportioned to the extent of the mischief. If it + should be a slight commotion in a small part of a State, the militia + of the residue would be adequate to its suppression; and the + national presumption is that they would be ready to do their duty. + An insurrection, whatever may be its immediate cause, eventually + endangers all government. Regard to the public peace, if not to the + rights of the Union, would engage the citizens to whom the contagion + had not communicated itself to oppose the insurgents; and if the + general government should be found in practice conducive to the + prosperity and felicity of the people, it were irrational to believe + that they would be disinclined to its support. +If, on the contrary, the insurrection should pervade a whole + State, or a principal part of it, the employment of a different kind + of force might become unavoidable. It appears that Massachusetts + found it necessary to raise troops for repressing the disorders + within that State; that Pennsylvania, from the mere apprehension of + commotions among a part of her citizens, has thought proper to have + recourse to the same measure. Suppose the State of New York had + been inclined to re-establish her lost jurisdiction over the + inhabitants of Vermont, could she have hoped for success in such an + enterprise from the efforts of the militia alone? Would she not + have been compelled to raise and to maintain a more regular force + for the execution of her design? If it must then be admitted that + the necessity of recurring to a force different from the militia, in + cases of this extraordinary nature, is applicable to the State + governments themselves, why should the possibility, that the + national government might be under a like necessity, in similar + extremities, be made an objection to its existence? Is it not + surprising that men who declare an attachment to the Union in the + abstract, should urge as an objection to the proposed Constitution + what applies with tenfold weight to the plan for which they contend; + and what, as far as it has any foundation in truth, is an + inevitable consequence of civil society upon an enlarged scale? Who + would not prefer that possibility to the unceasing agitations and + frequent revolutions which are the continual scourges of petty + republics? +Let us pursue this examination in another light. Suppose, in + lieu of one general system, two, or three, or even four + Confederacies were to be formed, would not the same difficulty + oppose itself to the operations of either of these Confederacies? + Would not each of them be exposed to the same casualties; and when + these happened, be obliged to have recourse to the same expedients + for upholding its authority which are objected to in a government + for all the States? Would the militia, in this supposition, be more + ready or more able to support the federal authority than in the case + of a general union? All candid and intelligent men must, upon due + consideration, acknowledge that the principle of the objection is + equally applicable to either of the two cases; and that whether we + have one government for all the States, or different governments for + different parcels of them, or even if there should be an entire + separation of the States, there might sometimes be a necessity to + make use of a force constituted differently from the militia, to + preserve the peace of the community and to maintain the just + authority of the laws against those violent invasions of them which + amount to insurrections and rebellions. +Independent of all other reasonings upon the subject, it is a + full answer to those who require a more peremptory provision against + military establishments in time of peace, to say that the whole + power of the proposed government is to be in the hands of the + representatives of the people. This is the essential, and, after + all, only efficacious security for the rights and privileges of the + people, which is attainable in civil society. [1] +If the representatives of the people betray their constituents, + there is then no resource left but in the exertion of that original + right of self-defense which is paramount to all positive forms of + government, and which against the usurpations of the national + rulers, may be exerted with infinitely better prospect of success + than against those of the rulers of an individual state. In a + single state, if the persons intrusted with supreme power become + usurpers, the different parcels, subdivisions, or districts of which + it consists, having no distinct government in each, can take no + regular measures for defense. The citizens must rush tumultuously + to arms, without concert, without system, without resource; except + in their courage and despair. The usurpers, clothed with the forms + of legal authority, can too often crush the opposition in embryo. + The smaller the extent of the territory, the more difficult will it + be for the people to form a regular or systematic plan of + opposition, and the more easy will it be to defeat their early + efforts. Intelligence can be more speedily obtained of their + preparations and movements, and the military force in the possession + of the usurpers can be more rapidly directed against the part where + the opposition has begun. In this situation there must be a + peculiar coincidence of circumstances to insure success to the + popular resistance. +The obstacles to usurpation and the facilities of resistance + increase with the increased extent of the state, provided the + citizens understand their rights and are disposed to defend them. + The natural strength of the people in a large community, in + proportion to the artificial strength of the government, is greater + than in a small, and of course more competent to a struggle with the + attempts of the government to establish a tyranny. But in a + confederacy the people, without exaggeration, may be said to be + entirely the masters of their own fate. Power being almost always + the rival of power, the general government will at all times stand + ready to check the usurpations of the state governments, and these + will have the same disposition towards the general government. The + people, by throwing themselves into either scale, will infallibly + make it preponderate. If their rights are invaded by either, they + can make use of the other as the instrument of redress. How wise + will it be in them by cherishing the union to preserve to themselves + an advantage which can never be too highly prized! +It may safely be received as an axiom in our political system, + that the State governments will, in all possible contingencies, + afford complete security against invasions of the public liberty by + the national authority. Projects of usurpation cannot be masked + under pretenses so likely to escape the penetration of select bodies + of men, as of the people at large. The legislatures will have + better means of information. They can discover the danger at a + distance; and possessing all the organs of civil power, and the + confidence of the people, they can at once adopt a regular plan of + opposition, in which they can combine all the resources of the + community. They can readily communicate with each other in the + different States, and unite their common forces for the protection + of their common liberty. +The great extent of the country is a further security. We have + already experienced its utility against the attacks of a foreign + power. And it would have precisely the same effect against the + enterprises of ambitious rulers in the national councils. If the + federal army should be able to quell the resistance of one State, + the distant States would have it in their power to make head with + fresh forces. The advantages obtained in one place must be + abandoned to subdue the opposition in others; and the moment the + part which had been reduced to submission was left to itself, its + efforts would be renewed, and its resistance revive. +We should recollect that the extent of the military force must, + at all events, be regulated by the resources of the country. For a + long time to come, it will not be possible to maintain a large army; + and as the means of doing this increase, the population and natural + strength of the community will proportionably increase. When will + the time arrive that the federal government can raise and maintain + an army capable of erecting a despotism over the great body of the + people of an immense empire, who are in a situation, through the + medium of their State governments, to take measures for their own + defense, with all the celerity, regularity, and system of + independent nations? The apprehension may be considered as a + disease, for which there can be found no cure in the resources of + argument and reasoning. +PUBLIUS. +FNA1-@1 Its full efficacy will be examined hereafter. + + +FEDERALIST No. 29 + +Concerning the Militia +From the Daily Advertiser. +Thursday, January 10, 1788 + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE power of regulating the militia, and of commanding its + services in times of insurrection and invasion are natural incidents + to the duties of superintending the common defense, and of watching + over the internal peace of the Confederacy. +It requires no skill in the science of war to discern that + uniformity in the organization and discipline of the militia would + be attended with the most beneficial effects, whenever they were + called into service for the public defense. It would enable them to + discharge the duties of the camp and of the field with mutual + intelligence and concert an advantage of peculiar moment in the + operations of an army; and it would fit them much sooner to acquire + the degree of proficiency in military functions which would be + essential to their usefulness. This desirable uniformity can only + be accomplished by confiding the regulation of the militia to the + direction of the national authority. It is, therefore, with the + most evident propriety, that the plan of the convention proposes to + empower the Union ``to provide for organizing, arming, and + disciplining the militia, and for governing such part of them as may + be employed in the service of the United States, RESERVING TO THE + STATES RESPECTIVELY THE APPOINTMENT OF THE OFFICERS, AND THE + AUTHORITY OF TRAINING THE MILITIA ACCORDING TO THE DISCIPLINE + PRESCRIBED BY CONGRESS.'' +Of the different grounds which have been taken in opposition to + the plan of the convention, there is none that was so little to have + been expected, or is so untenable in itself, as the one from which + this particular provision has been attacked. If a well-regulated + militia be the most natural defense of a free country, it ought + certainly to be under the regulation and at the disposal of that + body which is constituted the guardian of the national security. If + standing armies are dangerous to liberty, an efficacious power over + the militia, in the body to whose care the protection of the State + is committed, ought, as far as possible, to take away the inducement + and the pretext to such unfriendly institutions. If the federal + government can command the aid of the militia in those emergencies + which call for the military arm in support of the civil magistrate, + it can the better dispense with the employment of a different kind + of force. If it cannot avail itself of the former, it will be + obliged to recur to the latter. To render an army unnecessary, will + be a more certain method of preventing its existence than a thousand + prohibitions upon paper. +In order to cast an odium upon the power of calling forth the + militia to execute the laws of the Union, it has been remarked that + there is nowhere any provision in the proposed Constitution for + calling out the POSSE COMITATUS, to assist the magistrate in the + execution of his duty, whence it has been inferred, that military + force was intended to be his only auxiliary. There is a striking + incoherence in the objections which have appeared, and sometimes + even from the same quarter, not much calculated to inspire a very + favorable opinion of the sincerity or fair dealing of their authors. + The same persons who tell us in one breath, that the powers of the + federal government will be despotic and unlimited, inform us in the + next, that it has not authority sufficient even to call out the + POSSE COMITATUS. The latter, fortunately, is as much short of the + truth as the former exceeds it. It would be as absurd to doubt, + that a right to pass all laws NECESSARY AND PROPER to execute its + declared powers, would include that of requiring the assistance of + the citizens to the officers who may be intrusted with the execution + of those laws, as it would be to believe, that a right to enact laws + necessary and proper for the imposition and collection of taxes + would involve that of varying the rules of descent and of the + alienation of landed property, or of abolishing the trial by jury in + cases relating to it. It being therefore evident that the + supposition of a want of power to require the aid of the POSSE + COMITATUS is entirely destitute of color, it will follow, that the + conclusion which has been drawn from it, in its application to the + authority of the federal government over the militia, is as uncandid + as it is illogical. What reason could there be to infer, that force + was intended to be the sole instrument of authority, merely because + there is a power to make use of it when necessary? What shall we + think of the motives which could induce men of sense to reason in + this manner? How shall we prevent a conflict between charity and + judgment? +By a curious refinement upon the spirit of republican jealousy, + we are even taught to apprehend danger from the militia itself, in + the hands of the federal government. It is observed that select + corps may be formed, composed of the young and ardent, who may be + rendered subservient to the views of arbitrary power. What plan for + the regulation of the militia may be pursued by the national + government, is impossible to be foreseen. But so far from viewing + the matter in the same light with those who object to select corps + as dangerous, were the Constitution ratified, and were I to deliver + my sentiments to a member of the federal legislature from this State + on the subject of a militia establishment, I should hold to him, in + substance, the following discourse: +``The project of disciplining all the militia of the United + States is as futile as it would be injurious, if it were capable of + being carried into execution. A tolerable expertness in military + movements is a business that requires time and practice. It is not + a day, or even a week, that will suffice for the attainment of it. + To oblige the great body of the yeomanry, and of the other classes + of the citizens, to be under arms for the purpose of going through + military exercises and evolutions, as often as might be necessary to + acquire the degree of perfection which would entitle them to the + character of a well-regulated militia, would be a real grievance to + the people, and a serious public inconvenience and loss. It would + form an annual deduction from the productive labor of the country, + to an amount which, calculating upon the present numbers of the + people, would not fall far short of the whole expense of the civil + establishments of all the States. To attempt a thing which would + abridge the mass of labor and industry to so considerable an extent, + would be unwise: and the experiment, if made, could not succeed, + because it would not long be endured. Little more can reasonably be + aimed at, with respect to the people at large, than to have them + properly armed and equipped; and in order to see that this be not + neglected, it will be necessary to assemble them once or twice in + the course of a year. +``But though the scheme of disciplining the whole nation must be + abandoned as mischievous or impracticable; yet it is a matter of + the utmost importance that a well-digested plan should, as soon as + possible, be adopted for the proper establishment of the militia. + The attention of the government ought particularly to be directed + to the formation of a select corps of moderate extent, upon such + principles as will really fit them for service in case of need. By + thus circumscribing the plan, it will be possible to have an + excellent body of well-trained militia, ready to take the field + whenever the defense of the State shall require it. This will not + only lessen the call for military establishments, but if + circumstances should at any time oblige the government to form an + army of any magnitude that army can never be formidable to the + liberties of the people while there is a large body of citizens, + little, if at all, inferior to them in discipline and the use of + arms, who stand ready to defend their own rights and those of their + fellow-citizens. This appears to me the only substitute that can be + devised for a standing army, and the best possible security against + it, if it should exist.'' +Thus differently from the adversaries of the proposed + Constitution should I reason on the same subject, deducing arguments + of safety from the very sources which they represent as fraught with + danger and perdition. But how the national legislature may reason + on the point, is a thing which neither they nor I can foresee. +There is something so far-fetched and so extravagant in the idea + of danger to liberty from the militia, that one is at a loss whether + to treat it with gravity or with raillery; whether to consider it + as a mere trial of skill, like the paradoxes of rhetoricians; as a + disingenuous artifice to instil prejudices at any price; or as the + serious offspring of political fanaticism. Where in the name of + common-sense, are our fears to end if we may not trust our sons, our + brothers, our neighbors, our fellow-citizens? What shadow of danger + can there be from men who are daily mingling with the rest of their + countrymen and who participate with them in the same feelings, + sentiments, habits and interests? What reasonable cause of + apprehension can be inferred from a power in the Union to prescribe + regulations for the militia, and to command its services when + necessary, while the particular States are to have the SOLE AND + EXCLUSIVE APPOINTMENT OF THE OFFICERS? If it were possible + seriously to indulge a jealousy of the militia upon any conceivable + establishment under the federal government, the circumstance of the + officers being in the appointment of the States ought at once to + extinguish it. There can be no doubt that this circumstance will + always secure to them a preponderating influence over the militia. +In reading many of the publications against the Constitution, a + man is apt to imagine that he is perusing some ill-written tale or + romance, which instead of natural and agreeable images, exhibits to + the mind nothing but frightful and distorted shapes ``Gorgons, hydras, + and chimeras dire''; discoloring and disfiguring whatever it represents, + and transforming everything it touches into a monster. +A sample of this is to be observed in the exaggerated and + improbable suggestions which have taken place respecting the power + of calling for the services of the militia. That of New Hampshire + is to be marched to Georgia, of Georgia to New Hampshire, of New + York to Kentucky, and of Kentucky to Lake Champlain. Nay, the debts + due to the French and Dutch are to be paid in militiamen instead of + louis d'ors and ducats. At one moment there is to be a large army + to lay prostrate the liberties of the people; at another moment the + militia of Virginia are to be dragged from their homes five or six + hundred miles, to tame the republican contumacy of Massachusetts; + and that of Massachusetts is to be transported an equal distance to + subdue the refractory haughtiness of the aristocratic Virginians. + Do the persons who rave at this rate imagine that their art or + their eloquence can impose any conceits or absurdities upon the + people of America for infallible truths? +If there should be an army to be made use of as the engine of + despotism, what need of the militia? If there should be no army, + whither would the militia, irritated by being called upon to + undertake a distant and hopeless expedition, for the purpose of + riveting the chains of slavery upon a part of their countrymen, + direct their course, but to the seat of the tyrants, who had + meditated so foolish as well as so wicked a project, to crush them + in their imagined intrenchments of power, and to make them an + example of the just vengeance of an abused and incensed people? Is + this the way in which usurpers stride to dominion over a numerous + and enlightened nation? Do they begin by exciting the detestation + of the very instruments of their intended usurpations? Do they + usually commence their career by wanton and disgustful acts of + power, calculated to answer no end, but to draw upon themselves + universal hatred and execration? Are suppositions of this sort the + sober admonitions of discerning patriots to a discerning people? Or + are they the inflammatory ravings of incendiaries or distempered + enthusiasts? If we were even to suppose the national rulers + actuated by the most ungovernable ambition, it is impossible to + believe that they would employ such preposterous means to accomplish + their designs. +In times of insurrection, or invasion, it would be natural and + proper that the militia of a neighboring State should be marched + into another, to resist a common enemy, or to guard the republic + against the violence of faction or sedition. This was frequently + the case, in respect to the first object, in the course of the late + war; and this mutual succor is, indeed, a principal end of our + political association. If the power of affording it be placed under + the direction of the Union, there will be no danger of a supine and + listless inattention to the dangers of a neighbor, till its near + approach had superadded the incitements of selfpreservation to the + too feeble impulses of duty and sympathy. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 30 + +Concerning the General Power of Taxation +From the New York Packet. +Friday, December 28, 1787. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT HAS been already observed that the federal government ought + to possess the power of providing for the support of the national + forces; in which proposition was intended to be included the + expense of raising troops, of building and equipping fleets, and all + other expenses in any wise connected with military arrangements and + operations. But these are not the only objects to which the + jurisdiction of the Union, in respect to revenue, must necessarily + be empowered to extend. It must embrace a provision for the support + of the national civil list; for the payment of the national debts + contracted, or that may be contracted; and, in general, for all + those matters which will call for disbursements out of the national + treasury. The conclusion is, that there must be interwoven, in the + frame of the government, a general power of taxation, in one shape + or another. +Money is, with propriety, considered as the vital principle of + the body politic; as that which sustains its life and motion, and + enables it to perform its most essential functions. A complete + power, therefore, to procure a regular and adequate supply of it, as + far as the resources of the community will permit, may be regarded + as an indispensable ingredient in every constitution. From a + deficiency in this particular, one of two evils must ensue; either + the people must be subjected to continual plunder, as a substitute + for a more eligible mode of supplying the public wants, or the + government must sink into a fatal atrophy, and, in a short course of + time, perish. +In the Ottoman or Turkish empire, the sovereign, though in other + respects absolute master of the lives and fortunes of his subjects, + has no right to impose a new tax. The consequence is that he + permits the bashaws or governors of provinces to pillage the people + without mercy; and, in turn, squeezes out of them the sums of which + he stands in need, to satisfy his own exigencies and those of the + state. In America, from a like cause, the government of the Union + has gradually dwindled into a state of decay, approaching nearly to + annihilation. Who can doubt, that the happiness of the people in + both countries would be promoted by competent authorities in the + proper hands, to provide the revenues which the necessities of the + public might require? +The present Confederation, feeble as it is intended to repose in + the United States, an unlimited power of providing for the pecuniary + wants of the Union. But proceeding upon an erroneous principle, it + has been done in such a manner as entirely to have frustrated the + intention. Congress, by the articles which compose that compact (as + has already been stated), are authorized to ascertain and call for + any sums of money necessary, in their judgment, to the service of + the United States; and their requisitions, if conformable to the + rule of apportionment, are in every constitutional sense obligatory + upon the States. These have no right to question the propriety of + the demand; no discretion beyond that of devising the ways and + means of furnishing the sums demanded. But though this be strictly + and truly the case; though the assumption of such a right would be + an infringement of the articles of Union; though it may seldom or + never have been avowedly claimed, yet in practice it has been + constantly exercised, and would continue to be so, as long as the + revenues of the Confederacy should remain dependent on the + intermediate agency of its members. What the consequences of this + system have been, is within the knowledge of every man the least + conversant in our public affairs, and has been amply unfolded in + different parts of these inquiries. It is this which has chiefly + contributed to reduce us to a situation, which affords ample cause + both of mortification to ourselves, and of triumph to our enemies. +What remedy can there be for this situation, but in a change of + the system which has produced it in a change of the fallacious and + delusive system of quotas and requisitions? What substitute can + there be imagined for this ignis fatuus in finance, but that of + permitting the national government to raise its own revenues by the + ordinary methods of taxation authorized in every well-ordered + constitution of civil government? Ingenious men may declaim with + plausibility on any subject; but no human ingenuity can point out + any other expedient to rescue us from the inconveniences and + embarrassments naturally resulting from defective supplies of the + public treasury. +The more intelligent adversaries of the new Constitution admit + the force of this reasoning; but they qualify their admission by a + distinction between what they call INTERNAL and EXTERNAL taxation. + The former they would reserve to the State governments; the + latter, which they explain into commercial imposts, or rather duties + on imported articles, they declare themselves willing to concede to + the federal head. This distinction, however, would violate the + maxim of good sense and sound policy, which dictates that every + POWER ought to be in proportion to its OBJECT; and would still + leave the general government in a kind of tutelage to the State + governments, inconsistent with every idea of vigor or efficiency. + Who can pretend that commercial imposts are, or would be, alone + equal to the present and future exigencies of the Union? Taking + into the account the existing debt, foreign and domestic, upon any + plan of extinguishment which a man moderately impressed with the + importance of public justice and public credit could approve, in + addition to the establishments which all parties will acknowledge to + be necessary, we could not reasonably flatter ourselves, that this + resource alone, upon the most improved scale, would even suffice for + its present necessities. Its future necessities admit not of + calculation or limitation; and upon the principle, more than once + adverted to, the power of making provision for them as they arise + ought to be equally unconfined. I believe it may be regarded as a + position warranted by the history of mankind, that, IN THE USUAL + PROGRESS OF THINGS, THE NECESSITIES OF A NATION, IN EVERY STAGE OF + ITS EXISTENCE, WILL BE FOUND AT LEAST EQUAL TO ITS RESOURCES. +To say that deficiencies may be provided for by requisitions + upon the States, is on the one hand to acknowledge that this system + cannot be depended upon, and on the other hand to depend upon it for + every thing beyond a certain limit. Those who have carefully + attended to its vices and deformities as they have been exhibited by + experience or delineated in the course of these papers, must feel + invincible repugnancy to trusting the national interests in any + degree to its operation. Its inevitable tendency, whenever it is + brought into activity, must be to enfeeble the Union, and sow the + seeds of discord and contention between the federal head and its + members, and between the members themselves. Can it be expected + that the deficiencies would be better supplied in this mode than the + total wants of the Union have heretofore been supplied in the same + mode? It ought to be recollected that if less will be required from + the States, they will have proportionably less means to answer the + demand. If the opinions of those who contend for the distinction + which has been mentioned were to be received as evidence of truth, + one would be led to conclude that there was some known point in the + economy of national affairs at which it would be safe to stop and to + say: Thus far the ends of public happiness will be promoted by + supplying the wants of government, and all beyond this is unworthy + of our care or anxiety. How is it possible that a government half + supplied and always necessitous, can fulfill the purposes of its + institution, can provide for the security, advance the prosperity, + or support the reputation of the commonwealth? How can it ever + possess either energy or stability, dignity or credit, confidence at + home or respectability abroad? How can its administration be any + thing else than a succession of expedients temporizing, impotent, + disgraceful? How will it be able to avoid a frequent sacrifice of + its engagements to immediate necessity? How can it undertake or + execute any liberal or enlarged plans of public good? +Let us attend to what would be the effects of this situation in + the very first war in which we should happen to be engaged. We will + presume, for argument's sake, that the revenue arising from the + impost duties answers the purposes of a provision for the public + debt and of a peace establishment for the Union. Thus + circumstanced, a war breaks out. What would be the probable conduct + of the government in such an emergency? Taught by experience that + proper dependence could not be placed on the success of + requisitions, unable by its own authority to lay hold of fresh + resources, and urged by considerations of national danger, would it + not be driven to the expedient of diverting the funds already + appropriated from their proper objects to the defense of the State? + It is not easy to see how a step of this kind could be avoided; + and if it should be taken, it is evident that it would prove the + destruction of public credit at the very moment that it was becoming + essential to the public safety. To imagine that at such a crisis + credit might be dispensed with, would be the extreme of infatuation. + In the modern system of war, nations the most wealthy are obliged + to have recourse to large loans. A country so little opulent as + ours must feel this necessity in a much stronger degree. But who + would lend to a government that prefaced its overtures for borrowing + by an act which demonstrated that no reliance could be placed on the + steadiness of its measures for paying? The loans it might be able + to procure would be as limited in their extent as burdensome in + their conditions. They would be made upon the same principles that + usurers commonly lend to bankrupt and fraudulent debtors, with a + sparing hand and at enormous premiums. +It may perhaps be imagined that, from the scantiness of the + resources of the country, the necessity of diverting the established + funds in the case supposed would exist, though the national + government should possess an unrestrained power of taxation. But + two considerations will serve to quiet all apprehension on this + head: one is, that we are sure the resources of the community, in + their full extent, will be brought into activity for the benefit of + the Union; the other is, that whatever deficiences there may be, + can without difficulty be supplied by loans. +The power of creating new funds upon new objects of taxation, by + its own authority, would enable the national government to borrow as + far as its necessities might require. Foreigners, as well as the + citizens of America, could then reasonably repose confidence in its + engagements; but to depend upon a government that must itself + depend upon thirteen other governments for the means of fulfilling + its contracts, when once its situation is clearly understood, would + require a degree of credulity not often to be met with in the + pecuniary transactions of mankind, and little reconcilable with the + usual sharp-sightedness of avarice. +Reflections of this kind may have trifling weight with men who + hope to see realized in America the halcyon scenes of the poetic or + fabulous age; but to those who believe we are likely to experience + a common portion of the vicissitudes and calamities which have + fallen to the lot of other nations, they must appear entitled to + serious attention. Such men must behold the actual situation of + their country with painful solicitude, and deprecate the evils which + ambition or revenge might, with too much facility, inflict upon it. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 31 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning the General Power of Taxation) +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, January 1, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IN DISQUISITIONS of every kind, there are certain primary + truths, or first principles, upon which all subsequent reasonings + must depend. These contain an internal evidence which, antecedent + to all reflection or combination, commands the assent of the mind. + Where it produces not this effect, it must proceed either from some + defect or disorder in the organs of perception, or from the + influence of some strong interest, or passion, or prejudice. Of + this nature are the maxims in geometry, that ``the whole is greater + than its part; things equal to the same are equal to one another; + two straight lines cannot enclose a space; and all right angles + are equal to each other.'' Of the same nature are these other + maxims in ethics and politics, that there cannot be an effect + without a cause; that the means ought to be proportioned to the + end; that every power ought to be commensurate with its object; + that there ought to be no limitation of a power destined to effect + a purpose which is itself incapable of limitation. And there are + other truths in the two latter sciences which, if they cannot + pretend to rank in the class of axioms, are yet such direct + inferences from them, and so obvious in themselves, and so agreeable + to the natural and unsophisticated dictates of common-sense, that + they challenge the assent of a sound and unbiased mind, with a + degree of force and conviction almost equally irresistible. +The objects of geometrical inquiry are so entirely abstracted + from those pursuits which stir up and put in motion the unruly + passions of the human heart, that mankind, without difficulty, adopt + not only the more simple theorems of the science, but even those + abstruse paradoxes which, however they may appear susceptible of + demonstration, are at variance with the natural conceptions which + the mind, without the aid of philosophy, would be led to entertain + upon the subject. The INFINITE DIVISIBILITY of matter, or, in other + words, the INFINITE divisibility of a FINITE thing, extending even + to the minutest atom, is a point agreed among geometricians, though + not less incomprehensible to common-sense than any of those + mysteries in religion, against which the batteries of infidelity + have been so industriously leveled. +But in the sciences of morals and politics, men are found far + less tractable. To a certain degree, it is right and useful that + this should be the case. Caution and investigation are a necessary + armor against error and imposition. But this untractableness may be + carried too far, and may degenerate into obstinacy, perverseness, or + disingenuity. Though it cannot be pretended that the principles of + moral and political knowledge have, in general, the same degree of + certainty with those of the mathematics, yet they have much better + claims in this respect than, to judge from the conduct of men in + particular situations, we should be disposed to allow them. The + obscurity is much oftener in the passions and prejudices of the + reasoner than in the subject. Men, upon too many occasions, do not + give their own understandings fair play; but, yielding to some + untoward bias, they entangle themselves in words and confound + themselves in subtleties. +How else could it happen (if we admit the objectors to be + sincere in their opposition), that positions so clear as those which + manifest the necessity of a general power of taxation in the + government of the Union, should have to encounter any adversaries + among men of discernment? Though these positions have been + elsewhere fully stated, they will perhaps not be improperly + recapitulated in this place, as introductory to an examination of + what may have been offered by way of objection to them. They are in + substance as follows: +A government ought to contain in itself every power requisite to + the full accomplishment of the objects committed to its care, and to + the complete execution of the trusts for which it is responsible, + free from every other control but a regard to the public good and to + the sense of the people. +As the duties of superintending the national defense and of + securing the public peace against foreign or domestic violence + involve a provision for casualties and dangers to which no possible + limits can be assigned, the power of making that provision ought to + know no other bounds than the exigencies of the nation and the + resources of the community. +As revenue is the essential engine by which the means of + answering the national exigencies must be procured, the power of + procuring that article in its full extent must necessarily be + comprehended in that of providing for those exigencies. +As theory and practice conspire to prove that the power of + procuring revenue is unavailing when exercised over the States in + their collective capacities, the federal government must of + necessity be invested with an unqualified power of taxation in the + ordinary modes. +Did not experience evince the contrary, it would be natural to + conclude that the propriety of a general power of taxation in the + national government might safely be permitted to rest on the + evidence of these propositions, unassisted by any additional + arguments or illustrations. But we find, in fact, that the + antagonists of the proposed Constitution, so far from acquiescing in + their justness or truth, seem to make their principal and most + zealous effort against this part of the plan. It may therefore be + satisfactory to analyze the arguments with which they combat it. +Those of them which have been most labored with that view, seem + in substance to amount to this: ``It is not true, because the + exigencies of the Union may not be susceptible of limitation, that + its power of laying taxes ought to be unconfined. Revenue is as + requisite to the purposes of the local administrations as to those + of the Union; and the former are at least of equal importance with + the latter to the happiness of the people. It is, therefore, as + necessary that the State governments should be able to command the + means of supplying their wants, as that the national government + should possess the like faculty in respect to the wants of the Union. + But an indefinite power of taxation in the LATTER might, and + probably would in time, deprive the FORMER of the means of providing + for their own necessities; and would subject them entirely to the + mercy of the national legislature. As the laws of the Union are to + become the supreme law of the land, as it is to have power to pass + all laws that may be NECESSARY for carrying into execution the + authorities with which it is proposed to vest it, the national + government might at any time abolish the taxes imposed for State + objects upon the pretense of an interference with its own. It might + allege a necessity of doing this in order to give efficacy to the + national revenues. And thus all the resources of taxation might by + degrees become the subjects of federal monopoly, to the entire + exclusion and destruction of the State governments.'' +This mode of reasoning appears sometimes to turn upon the + supposition of usurpation in the national government; at other + times it seems to be designed only as a deduction from the + constitutional operation of its intended powers. It is only in the + latter light that it can be admitted to have any pretensions to + fairness. The moment we launch into conjectures about the + usurpations of the federal government, we get into an unfathomable + abyss, and fairly put ourselves out of the reach of all reasoning. + Imagination may range at pleasure till it gets bewildered amidst + the labyrinths of an enchanted castle, and knows not on which side + to turn to extricate itself from the perplexities into which it has + so rashly adventured. Whatever may be the limits or modifications + of the powers of the Union, it is easy to imagine an endless train + of possible dangers; and by indulging an excess of jealousy and + timidity, we may bring ourselves to a state of absolute scepticism + and irresolution. I repeat here what I have observed in substance + in another place, that all observations founded upon the danger of + usurpation ought to be referred to the composition and structure of + the government, not to the nature or extent of its powers. The + State governments, by their original constitutions, are invested + with complete sovereignty. In what does our security consist + against usurpation from that quarter? Doubtless in the manner of + their formation, and in a due dependence of those who are to + administer them upon the people. If the proposed construction of + the federal government be found, upon an impartial examination of + it, to be such as to afford, to a proper extent, the same species of + security, all apprehensions on the score of usurpation ought to be + discarded. +It should not be forgotten that a disposition in the State + governments to encroach upon the rights of the Union is quite as + probable as a disposition in the Union to encroach upon the rights + of the State governments. What side would be likely to prevail in + such a conflict, must depend on the means which the contending + parties could employ toward insuring success. As in republics + strength is always on the side of the people, and as there are + weighty reasons to induce a belief that the State governments will + commonly possess most influence over them, the natural conclusion is + that such contests will be most apt to end to the disadvantage of + the Union; and that there is greater probability of encroachments + by the members upon the federal head, than by the federal head upon + the members. But it is evident that all conjectures of this kind + must be extremely vague and fallible: and that it is by far the + safest course to lay them altogether aside, and to confine our + attention wholly to the nature and extent of the powers as they are + delineated in the Constitution. Every thing beyond this must be + left to the prudence and firmness of the people; who, as they will + hold the scales in their own hands, it is to be hoped, will always + take care to preserve the constitutional equilibrium between the + general and the State governments. Upon this ground, which is + evidently the true one, it will not be difficult to obviate the + objections which have been made to an indefinite power of taxation + in the United States. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 32 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning the General Power of Taxation) +From the Daily Advertiser. +Thursday, January 3, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +ALTHOUGH I am of opinion that there would be no real danger of + the consequences which seem to be apprehended to the State + governments from a power in the Union to control them in the levies + of money, because I am persuaded that the sense of the people, the + extreme hazard of provoking the resentments of the State + governments, and a conviction of the utility and necessity of local + administrations for local purposes, would be a complete barrier + against the oppressive use of such a power; yet I am willing here + to allow, in its full extent, the justness of the reasoning which + requires that the individual States should possess an independent + and uncontrollable authority to raise their own revenues for the + supply of their own wants. And making this concession, I affirm + that (with the sole exception of duties on imports and exports) they + would, under the plan of the convention, retain that authority in + the most absolute and unqualified sense; and that an attempt on the + part of the national government to abridge them in the exercise of + it, would be a violent assumption of power, unwarranted by any + article or clause of its Constitution. +An entire consolidation of the States into one complete national + sovereignty would imply an entire subordination of the parts; and + whatever powers might remain in them, would be altogether dependent + on the general will. But as the plan of the convention aims only at + a partial union or consolidation, the State governments would + clearly retain all the rights of sovereignty which they before had, + and which were not, by that act, EXCLUSIVELY delegated to the United + States. This exclusive delegation, or rather this alienation, of + State sovereignty, would only exist in three cases: where the + Constitution in express terms granted an exclusive authority to the + Union; where it granted in one instance an authority to the Union, + and in another prohibited the States from exercising the like + authority; and where it granted an authority to the Union, to which + a similar authority in the States would be absolutely and totally + CONTRADICTORY and REPUGNANT. I use these terms to distinguish this + last case from another which might appear to resemble it, but which + would, in fact, be essentially different; I mean where the exercise + of a concurrent jurisdiction might be productive of occasional + interferences in the POLICY of any branch of administration, but + would not imply any direct contradiction or repugnancy in point of + constitutional authority. These three cases of exclusive + jurisdiction in the federal government may be exemplified by the + following instances: The last clause but one in the eighth section + of the first article provides expressly that Congress shall exercise + ``EXCLUSIVE LEGISLATION'' over the district to be appropriated as + the seat of government. This answers to the first case. The first + clause of the same section empowers Congress ``TO LAY AND COLLECT + TAXES, DUTIES, IMPOSTS AND EXCISES''; and the second clause of the + tenth section of the same article declares that, ``NO STATE SHALL, + without the consent of Congress, LAY ANY IMPOSTS OR DUTIES ON + IMPORTS OR EXPORTS, except for the purpose of executing its + inspection laws.'' Hence would result an exclusive power in the + Union to lay duties on imports and exports, with the particular + exception mentioned; but this power is abridged by another clause, + which declares that no tax or duty shall be laid on articles + exported from any State; in consequence of which qualification, it + now only extends to the DUTIES ON IMPORTS. This answers to the + second case. The third will be found in that clause which declares + that Congress shall have power ``to establish an UNIFORM RULE of + naturalization throughout the United States.'' This must + necessarily be exclusive; because if each State had power to + prescribe a DISTINCT RULE, there could not be a UNIFORM RULE. +A case which may perhaps be thought to resemble the latter, but + which is in fact widely different, affects the question immediately + under consideration. I mean the power of imposing taxes on all + articles other than exports and imports. This, I contend, is + manifestly a concurrent and coequal authority in the United States + and in the individual States. There is plainly no expression in the + granting clause which makes that power EXCLUSIVE in the Union. + There is no independent clause or sentence which prohibits the + States from exercising it. So far is this from being the case, that + a plain and conclusive argument to the contrary is to be deduced + from the restraint laid upon the States in relation to duties on + imports and exports. This restriction implies an admission that, if + it were not inserted, the States would possess the power it + excludes; and it implies a further admission, that as to all other + taxes, the authority of the States remains undiminished. In any + other view it would be both unnecessary and dangerous; it would be + unnecessary, because if the grant to the Union of the power of + laying such duties implied the exclusion of the States, or even + their subordination in this particular, there could be no need of + such a restriction; it would be dangerous, because the introduction + of it leads directly to the conclusion which has been mentioned, and + which, if the reasoning of the objectors be just, could not have + been intended; I mean that the States, in all cases to which the + restriction did not apply, would have a concurrent power of taxation + with the Union. The restriction in question amounts to what lawyers + call a NEGATIVE PREGNANT that is, a NEGATION of one thing, and an + AFFIRMANCE of another; a negation of the authority of the States to + impose taxes on imports and exports, and an affirmance of their + authority to impose them on all other articles. It would be mere + sophistry to argue that it was meant to exclude them ABSOLUTELY from + the imposition of taxes of the former kind, and to leave them at + liberty to lay others SUBJECT TO THE CONTROL of the national + legislature. The restraining or prohibitory clause only says, that + they shall not, WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF CONGRESS, lay such duties; + and if we are to understand this in the sense last mentioned, the + Constitution would then be made to introduce a formal provision for + the sake of a very absurd conclusion; which is, that the States, + WITH THE CONSENT of the national legislature, might tax imports and + exports; and that they might tax every other article, UNLESS + CONTROLLED by the same body. If this was the intention, why not + leave it, in the first instance, to what is alleged to be the + natural operation of the original clause, conferring a general power + of taxation upon the Union? It is evident that this could not have + been the intention, and that it will not bear a construction of the + kind. +As to a supposition of repugnancy between the power of taxation + in the States and in the Union, it cannot be supported in that sense + which would be requisite to work an exclusion of the States. It is, + indeed, possible that a tax might be laid on a particular article by + a State which might render it INEXPEDIENT that thus a further tax + should be laid on the same article by the Union; but it would not + imply a constitutional inability to impose a further tax. The + quantity of the imposition, the expediency or inexpediency of an + increase on either side, would be mutually questions of prudence; + but there would be involved no direct contradiction of power. The + particular policy of the national and of the State systems of + finance might now and then not exactly coincide, and might require + reciprocal forbearances. It is not, however a mere possibility of + inconvenience in the exercise of powers, but an immediate + constitutional repugnancy that can by implication alienate and + extinguish a pre-existing right of sovereignty. +The necessity of a concurrent jurisdiction in certain cases + results from the division of the sovereign power; and the rule that + all authorities, of which the States are not explicitly divested in + favor of the Union, remain with them in full vigor, is not a + theoretical consequence of that division, but is clearly admitted by + the whole tenor of the instrument which contains the articles of the + proposed Constitution. We there find that, notwithstanding the + affirmative grants of general authorities, there has been the most + pointed care in those cases where it was deemed improper that the + like authorities should reside in the States, to insert negative + clauses prohibiting the exercise of them by the States. The tenth + section of the first article consists altogether of such provisions. + This circumstance is a clear indication of the sense of the + convention, and furnishes a rule of interpretation out of the body + of the act, which justifies the position I have advanced and refutes + every hypothesis to the contrary. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 33 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning the General Power of Taxation) +From the Daily Advertiser. +January 3, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE residue of the argument against the provisions of the + Constitution in respect to taxation is ingrafted upon the following + clause. The last clause of the eighth section of the first article + of the plan under consideration authorizes the national legislature + ``to make all laws which shall be NECESSARY and PROPER for carrying + into execution THE POWERS by that Constitution vested in the + government of the United States, or in any department or officer + thereof''; and the second clause of the sixth article declares, + ``that the Constitution and the laws of the United States made IN + PURSUANCE THEREOF, and the treaties made by their authority shall be + the SUPREME LAW of the land, any thing in the constitution or laws + of any State to the contrary notwithstanding.'' +These two clauses have been the source of much virulent + invective and petulant declamation against the proposed Constitution. + They have been held up to the people in all the exaggerated colors + of misrepresentation as the pernicious engines by which their local + governments were to be destroyed and their liberties exterminated; + as the hideous monster whose devouring jaws would spare neither sex + nor age, nor high nor low, nor sacred nor profane; and yet, strange + as it may appear, after all this clamor, to those who may not have + happened to contemplate them in the same light, it may be affirmed + with perfect confidence that the constitutional operation of the + intended government would be precisely the same, if these clauses + were entirely obliterated, as if they were repeated in every article. + They are only declaratory of a truth which would have resulted by + necessary and unavoidable implication from the very act of + constituting a federal government, and vesting it with certain + specified powers. This is so clear a proposition, that moderation + itself can scarcely listen to the railings which have been so + copiously vented against this part of the plan, without emotions + that disturb its equanimity. +What is a power, but the ability or faculty of doing a thing? + What is the ability to do a thing, but the power of employing the + MEANS necessary to its execution? What is a LEGISLATIVE power, but + a power of making LAWS? What are the MEANS to execute a LEGISLATIVE + power but LAWS? What is the power of laying and collecting taxes, + but a LEGISLATIVE POWER, or a power of MAKING LAWS, to lay and + collect taxes? What are the proper means of executing such a power, + but NECESSARY and PROPER laws? +This simple train of inquiry furnishes us at once with a test by + which to judge of the true nature of the clause complained of. It + conducts us to this palpable truth, that a power to lay and collect + taxes must be a power to pass all laws NECESSARY and PROPER for the + execution of that power; and what does the unfortunate and + culumniated provision in question do more than declare the same + truth, to wit, that the national legislature, to whom the power of + laying and collecting taxes had been previously given, might, in the + execution of that power, pass all laws NECESSARY and PROPER to carry + it into effect? I have applied these observations thus particularly + to the power of taxation, because it is the immediate subject under + consideration, and because it is the most important of the + authorities proposed to be conferred upon the Union. But the same + process will lead to the same result, in relation to all other + powers declared in the Constitution. And it is EXPRESSLY to execute + these powers that the sweeping clause, as it has been affectedly + called, authorizes the national legislature to pass all NECESSARY + and PROPER laws. If there is any thing exceptionable, it must be + sought for in the specific powers upon which this general + declaration is predicated. The declaration itself, though it may be + chargeable with tautology or redundancy, is at least perfectly + harmless. +But SUSPICION may ask, Why then was it introduced? The answer + is, that it could only have been done for greater caution, and to + guard against all cavilling refinements in those who might hereafter + feel a disposition to curtail and evade the legitimate authorities + of the Union. The Convention probably foresaw, what it has been a + principal aim of these papers to inculcate, that the danger which + most threatens our political welfare is that the State governments + will finally sap the foundations of the Union; and might therefore + think it necessary, in so cardinal a point, to leave nothing to + construction. Whatever may have been the inducement to it, the + wisdom of the precaution is evident from the cry which has been + raised against it; as that very cry betrays a disposition to + question the great and essential truth which it is manifestly the + object of that provision to declare. +But it may be again asked, Who is to judge of the NECESSITY and + PROPRIETY of the laws to be passed for executing the powers of the + Union? I answer, first, that this question arises as well and as + fully upon the simple grant of those powers as upon the declaratory + clause; and I answer, in the second place, that the national + government, like every other, must judge, in the first instance, of + the proper exercise of its powers, and its constituents in the last. + If the federal government should overpass the just bounds of its + authority and make a tyrannical use of its powers, the people, whose + creature it is, must appeal to the standard they have formed, and + take such measures to redress the injury done to the Constitution as + the exigency may suggest and prudence justify. The propriety of a + law, in a constitutional light, must always be determined by the + nature of the powers upon which it is founded. Suppose, by some + forced constructions of its authority (which, indeed, cannot easily + be imagined), the Federal legislature should attempt to vary the law + of descent in any State, would it not be evident that, in making + such an attempt, it had exceeded its jurisdiction, and infringed + upon that of the State? Suppose, again, that upon the pretense of + an interference with its revenues, it should undertake to abrogate a + landtax imposed by the authority of a State; would it not be + equally evident that this was an invasion of that concurrent + jurisdiction in respect to this species of tax, which its + Constitution plainly supposes to exist in the State governments? If + there ever should be a doubt on this head, the credit of it will be + entirely due to those reasoners who, in the imprudent zeal of their + animosity to the plan of the convention, have labored to envelop it + in a cloud calculated to obscure the plainest and simplest truths. +But it is said that the laws of the Union are to be the SUPREME + LAW of the land. But what inference can be drawn from this, or what + would they amount to, if they were not to be supreme? It is evident + they would amount to nothing. A LAW, by the very meaning of the + term, includes supremacy. It is a rule which those to whom it is + prescribed are bound to observe. This results from every political + association. If individuals enter into a state of society, the laws + of that society must be the supreme regulator of their conduct. If + a number of political societies enter into a larger political + society, the laws which the latter may enact, pursuant to the powers + intrusted to it by its constitution, must necessarily be supreme + over those societies, and the individuals of whom they are composed. + It would otherwise be a mere treaty, dependent on the good faith of + the parties, and not a government, which is only another word for + POLITICAL POWER AND SUPREMACY. But it will not follow from this + doctrine that acts of the large society which are NOT PURSUANT to + its constitutional powers, but which are invasions of the residuary + authorities of the smaller societies, will become the supreme law of + the land. These will be merely acts of usurpation, and will deserve + to be treated as such. Hence we perceive that the clause which + declares the supremacy of the laws of the Union, like the one we + have just before considered, only declares a truth, which flows + immediately and necessarily from the institution of a federal + government. It will not, I presume, have escaped observation, that + it EXPRESSLY confines this supremacy to laws made PURSUANT TO THE + CONSTITUTION; which I mention merely as an instance of caution in + the convention; since that limitation would have been to be + understood, though it had not been expressed. +Though a law, therefore, laying a tax for the use of the United + States would be supreme in its nature, and could not legally be + opposed or controlled, yet a law for abrogating or preventing the + collection of a tax laid by the authority of the State, (unless upon + imports and exports), would not be the supreme law of the land, but + a usurpation of power not granted by the Constitution. As far as an + improper accumulation of taxes on the same object might tend to + render the collection difficult or precarious, this would be a + mutual inconvenience, not arising from a superiority or defect of + power on either side, but from an injudicious exercise of power by + one or the other, in a manner equally disadvantageous to both. It + is to be hoped and presumed, however, that mutual interest would + dictate a concert in this respect which would avoid any material + inconvenience. The inference from the whole is, that the individual + States would, under the proposed Constitution, retain an independent + and uncontrollable authority to raise revenue to any extent of which + they may stand in need, by every kind of taxation, except duties on + imports and exports. It will be shown in the next paper that this + CONCURRENT JURISDICTION in the article of taxation was the only + admissible substitute for an entire subordination, in respect to + this branch of power, of the State authority to that of the Union. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 34 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning the General Power of Taxation) +From the New York Packet. +Friday, January 4, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +I FLATTER myself it has been clearly shown in my last number + that the particular States, under the proposed Constitution, would + have COEQUAL authority with the Union in the article of revenue, + except as to duties on imports. As this leaves open to the States + far the greatest part of the resources of the community, there can + be no color for the assertion that they would not possess means as + abundant as could be desired for the supply of their own wants, + independent of all external control. That the field is sufficiently + wide will more fully appear when we come to advert to the + inconsiderable share of the public expenses for which it will fall + to the lot of the State governments to provide. +To argue upon abstract principles that this co-ordinate + authority cannot exist, is to set up supposition and theory against + fact and reality. However proper such reasonings might be to show + that a thing OUGHT NOT TO EXIST, they are wholly to be rejected when + they are made use of to prove that it does not exist contrary to the + evidence of the fact itself. It is well known that in the Roman + republic the legislative authority, in the last resort, resided for + ages in two different political bodies not as branches of the same + legislature, but as distinct and independent legislatures, in each + of which an opposite interest prevailed: in one the patrician; in + the other, the plebian. Many arguments might have been adduced to + prove the unfitness of two such seemingly contradictory authorities, + each having power to ANNUL or REPEAL the acts of the other. But a + man would have been regarded as frantic who should have attempted at + Rome to disprove their existence. It will be readily understood + that I allude to the COMITIA CENTURIATA and the COMITIA TRIBUTA. + The former, in which the people voted by centuries, was so arranged + as to give a superiority to the patrician interest; in the latter, + in which numbers prevailed, the plebian interest had an entire + predominancy. And yet these two legislatures coexisted for ages, + and the Roman republic attained to the utmost height of human + greatness. +In the case particularly under consideration, there is no such + contradiction as appears in the example cited; there is no power on + either side to annul the acts of the other. And in practice there + is little reason to apprehend any inconvenience; because, in a + short course of time, the wants of the States will naturally reduce + themselves within A VERY NARROW COMPASS; and in the interim, the + United States will, in all probability, find it convenient to + abstain wholly from those objects to which the particular States + would be inclined to resort. +To form a more precise judgment of the true merits of this + question, it will be well to advert to the proportion between the + objects that will require a federal provision in respect to revenue, + and those which will require a State provision. We shall discover + that the former are altogether unlimited, and that the latter are + circumscribed within very moderate bounds. In pursuing this + inquiry, we must bear in mind that we are not to confine our view to + the present period, but to look forward to remote futurity. + Constitutions of civil government are not to be framed upon a + calculation of existing exigencies, but upon a combination of these + with the probable exigencies of ages, according to the natural and + tried course of human affairs. Nothing, therefore, can be more + fallacious than to infer the extent of any power, proper to be + lodged in the national government, from an estimate of its immediate + necessities. There ought to be a CAPACITY to provide for future + contingencies as they may happen; and as these are illimitable in + their nature, it is impossible safely to limit that capacity. It is + true, perhaps, that a computation might be made with sufficient + accuracy to answer the purpose of the quantity of revenue requisite + to discharge the subsisting engagements of the Union, and to + maintain those establishments which, for some time to come, would + suffice in time of peace. But would it be wise, or would it not + rather be the extreme of folly, to stop at this point, and to leave + the government intrusted with the care of the national defense in a + state of absolute incapacity to provide for the protection of the + community against future invasions of the public peace, by foreign + war or domestic convulsions? If, on the contrary, we ought to + exceed this point, where can we stop, short of an indefinite power + of providing for emergencies as they may arise? Though it is easy + to assert, in general terms, the possibility of forming a rational + judgment of a due provision against probable dangers, yet we may + safely challenge those who make the assertion to bring forward their + data, and may affirm that they would be found as vague and uncertain + as any that could be produced to establish the probable duration of + the world. Observations confined to the mere prospects of internal + attacks can deserve no weight; though even these will admit of no + satisfactory calculation: but if we mean to be a commercial people, + it must form a part of our policy to be able one day to defend that + commerce. The support of a navy and of naval wars would involve + contingencies that must baffle all the efforts of political + arithmetic. +Admitting that we ought to try the novel and absurd experiment + in politics of tying up the hands of government from offensive war + founded upon reasons of state, yet certainly we ought not to disable + it from guarding the community against the ambition or enmity of + other nations. A cloud has been for some time hanging over the + European world. If it should break forth into a storm, who can + insure us that in its progress a part of its fury would not be spent + upon us? No reasonable man would hastily pronounce that we are + entirely out of its reach. Or if the combustible materials that now + seem to be collecting should be dissipated without coming to + maturity, or if a flame should be kindled without extending to us, + what security can we have that our tranquillity will long remain + undisturbed from some other cause or from some other quarter? Let + us recollect that peace or war will not always be left to our + option; that however moderate or unambitious we may be, we cannot + count upon the moderation, or hope to extinguish the ambition of + others. Who could have imagined at the conclusion of the last war + that France and Britain, wearied and exhausted as they both were, + would so soon have looked with so hostile an aspect upon each other? + To judge from the history of mankind, we shall be compelled to + conclude that the fiery and destructive passions of war reign in the + human breast with much more powerful sway than the mild and + beneficent sentiments of peace; and that to model our political + systems upon speculations of lasting tranquillity, is to calculate + on the weaker springs of the human character. +What are the chief sources of expense in every government? What + has occasioned that enormous accumulation of debts with which + several of the European nations are oppressed? The answers plainly + is, wars and rebellions; the support of those institutions which + are necessary to guard the body politic against these two most + mortal diseases of society. The expenses arising from those + institutions which are relative to the mere domestic police of a + state, to the support of its legislative, executive, and judicial + departments, with their different appendages, and to the + encouragement of agriculture and manufactures (which will comprehend + almost all the objects of state expenditure), are insignificant in + comparison with those which relate to the national defense. +In the kingdom of Great Britain, where all the ostentatious + apparatus of monarchy is to be provided for, not above a fifteenth + part of the annual income of the nation is appropriated to the class + of expenses last mentioned; the other fourteen fifteenths are + absorbed in the payment of the interest of debts contracted for + carrying on the wars in which that country has been engaged, and in + the maintenance of fleets and armies. If, on the one hand, it + should be observed that the expenses incurred in the prosecution of + the ambitious enterprises and vainglorious pursuits of a monarchy + are not a proper standard by which to judge of those which might be + necessary in a republic, it ought, on the other hand, to be remarked + that there should be as great a disproportion between the profusion + and extravagance of a wealthy kingdom in its domestic + administration, and the frugality and economy which in that + particular become the modest simplicity of republican government. + If we balance a proper deduction from one side against that which + it is supposed ought to be made from the other, the proportion may + still be considered as holding good. +But let us advert to the large debt which we have ourselves + contracted in a single war, and let us only calculate on a common + share of the events which disturb the peace of nations, and we shall + instantly perceive, without the aid of any elaborate illustration, + that there must always be an immense disproportion between the + objects of federal and state expenditures. It is true that several + of the States, separately, are encumbered with considerable debts, + which are an excrescence of the late war. But this cannot happen + again, if the proposed system be adopted; and when these debts are + discharged, the only call for revenue of any consequence, which the + State governments will continue to experience, will be for the mere + support of their respective civil list; to which, if we add all + contingencies, the total amount in every State ought to fall + considerably short of two hundred thousand pounds. +In framing a government for posterity as well as ourselves, we + ought, in those provisions which are designed to be permanent, to + calculate, not on temporary, but on permanent causes of expense. If + this principle be a just one our attention would be directed to a + provision in favor of the State governments for an annual sum of + about two hundred thousand pounds; while the exigencies of the + Union could be susceptible of no limits, even in imagination. In + this view of the subject, by what logic can it be maintained that + the local governments ought to command, in perpetuity, an EXCLUSIVE + source of revenue for any sum beyond the extent of two hundred + thousand pounds? To extend its power further, in EXCLUSION of the + authority of the Union, would be to take the resources of the + community out of those hands which stood in need of them for the + public welfare, in order to put them into other hands which could + have no just or proper occasion for them. +Suppose, then, the convention had been inclined to proceed upon + the principle of a repartition of the objects of revenue, between + the Union and its members, in PROPORTION to their comparative + necessities; what particular fund could have been selected for the + use of the States, that would not either have been too much or too + little too little for their present, too much for their future + wants? As to the line of separation between external and internal + taxes, this would leave to the States, at a rough computation, the + command of two thirds of the resources of the community to defray + from a tenth to a twentieth part of its expenses; and to the Union, + one third of the resources of the community, to defray from nine + tenths to nineteen twentieths of its expenses. If we desert this + boundary and content ourselves with leaving to the States an + exclusive power of taxing houses and lands, there would still be a + great disproportion between the MEANS and the END; the possession + of one third of the resources of the community to supply, at most, + one tenth of its wants. If any fund could have been selected and + appropriated, equal to and not greater than the object, it would + have been inadequate to the discharge of the existing debts of the + particular States, and would have left them dependent on the Union + for a provision for this purpose. +The preceding train of observation will justify the position + which has been elsewhere laid down, that ``A CONCURRENT JURISDICTION + in the article of taxation was the only admissible substitute for an + entire subordination, in respect to this branch of power, of State + authority to that of the Union.'' Any separation of the objects of + revenue that could have been fallen upon, would have amounted to a + sacrifice of the great INTERESTS of the Union to the POWER of the + individual States. The convention thought the concurrent + jurisdiction preferable to that subordination; and it is evident + that it has at least the merit of reconciling an indefinite + constitutional power of taxation in the Federal government with an + adequate and independent power in the States to provide for their + own necessities. There remain a few other lights, in which this + important subject of taxation will claim a further consideration. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 35 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning the General Power of Taxation) +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +BEFORE we proceed to examine any other objections to an + indefinite power of taxation in the Union, I shall make one general + remark; which is, that if the jurisdiction of the national + government, in the article of revenue, should be restricted to + particular objects, it would naturally occasion an undue proportion + of the public burdens to fall upon those objects. Two evils would + spring from this source: the oppression of particular branches of + industry; and an unequal distribution of the taxes, as well among + the several States as among the citizens of the same State. +Suppose, as has been contended for, the federal power of + taxation were to be confined to duties on imports, it is evident + that the government, for want of being able to command other + resources, would frequently be tempted to extend these duties to an + injurious excess. There are persons who imagine that they can never + be carried to too great a length; since the higher they are, the + more it is alleged they will tend to discourage an extravagant + consumption, to produce a favorable balance of trade, and to promote + domestic manufactures. But all extremes are pernicious in various + ways. Exorbitant duties on imported articles would beget a general + spirit of smuggling; which is always prejudicial to the fair + trader, and eventually to the revenue itself: they tend to render + other classes of the community tributary, in an improper degree, to + the manufacturing classes, to whom they give a premature monopoly of + the markets; they sometimes force industry out of its more natural + channels into others in which it flows with less advantage; and in + the last place, they oppress the merchant, who is often obliged to + pay them himself without any retribution from the consumer. When + the demand is equal to the quantity of goods at market, the consumer + generally pays the duty; but when the markets happen to be + overstocked, a great proportion falls upon the merchant, and + sometimes not only exhausts his profits, but breaks in upon his + capital. I am apt to think that a division of the duty, between the + seller and the buyer, more often happens than is commonly imagined. + It is not always possible to raise the price of a commodity in + exact proportion to every additional imposition laid upon it. The + merchant, especially in a country of small commercial capital, is + often under a necessity of keeping prices down in order to a more + expeditious sale. +The maxim that the consumer is the payer, is so much oftener + true than the reverse of the proposition, that it is far more + equitable that the duties on imports should go into a common stock, + than that they should redound to the exclusive benefit of the + importing States. But it is not so generally true as to render it + equitable, that those duties should form the only national fund. + When they are paid by the merchant they operate as an additional + tax upon the importing State, whose citizens pay their proportion of + them in the character of consumers. In this view they are + productive of inequality among the States; which inequality would + be increased with the increased extent of the duties. The + confinement of the national revenues to this species of imposts + would be attended with inequality, from a different cause, between + the manufacturing and the non-manufacturing States. The States + which can go farthest towards the supply of their own wants, by + their own manufactures, will not, according to their numbers or + wealth, consume so great a proportion of imported articles as those + States which are not in the same favorable situation. They would + not, therefore, in this mode alone contribute to the public treasury + in a ratio to their abilities. To make them do this it is necessary + that recourse be had to excises, the proper objects of which are + particular kinds of manufactures. New York is more deeply + interested in these considerations than such of her citizens as + contend for limiting the power of the Union to external taxation may + be aware of. New York is an importing State, and is not likely + speedily to be, to any great extent, a manufacturing State. She + would, of course, suffer in a double light from restraining the + jurisdiction of the Union to commercial imposts. +So far as these observations tend to inculcate a danger of the + import duties being extended to an injurious extreme it may be + observed, conformably to a remark made in another part of these + papers, that the interest of the revenue itself would be a + sufficient guard against such an extreme. I readily admit that this + would be the case, as long as other resources were open; but if the + avenues to them were closed, HOPE, stimulated by necessity, would + beget experiments, fortified by rigorous precautions and additional + penalties, which, for a time, would have the intended effect, till + there had been leisure to contrive expedients to elude these new + precautions. The first success would be apt to inspire false + opinions, which it might require a long course of subsequent + experience to correct. Necessity, especially in politics, often + occasions false hopes, false reasonings, and a system of measures + correspondingly erroneous. But even if this supposed excess should + not be a consequence of the limitation of the federal power of + taxation, the inequalities spoken of would still ensue, though not + in the same degree, from the other causes that have been noticed. + Let us now return to the examination of objections. +One which, if we may judge from the frequency of its repetition, + seems most to be relied on, is, that the House of Representatives is + not sufficiently numerous for the reception of all the different + classes of citizens, in order to combine the interests and feelings + of every part of the community, and to produce a due sympathy + between the representative body and its constituents. This argument + presents itself under a very specious and seducing form; and is + well calculated to lay hold of the prejudices of those to whom it is + addressed. But when we come to dissect it with attention, it will + appear to be made up of nothing but fair-sounding words. The object + it seems to aim at is, in the first place, impracticable, and in the + sense in which it is contended for, is unnecessary. I reserve for + another place the discussion of the question which relates to the + sufficiency of the representative body in respect to numbers, and + shall content myself with examining here the particular use which + has been made of a contrary supposition, in reference to the + immediate subject of our inquiries. +The idea of an actual representation of all classes of the + people, by persons of each class, is altogether visionary. Unless + it were expressly provided in the Constitution, that each different + occupation should send one or more members, the thing would never + take place in practice. Mechanics and manufacturers will always be + inclined, with few exceptions, to give their votes to merchants, in + preference to persons of their own professions or trades. Those + discerning citizens are well aware that the mechanic and + manufacturing arts furnish the materials of mercantile enterprise + and industry. Many of them, indeed, are immediately connected with + the operations of commerce. They know that the merchant is their + natural patron and friend; and they are aware, that however great + the confidence they may justly feel in their own good sense, their + interests can be more effectually promoted by the merchant than by + themselves. They are sensible that their habits in life have not + been such as to give them those acquired endowments, without which, + in a deliberative assembly, the greatest natural abilities are for + the most part useless; and that the influence and weight, and + superior acquirements of the merchants render them more equal to a + contest with any spirit which might happen to infuse itself into the + public councils, unfriendly to the manufacturing and trading + interests. These considerations, and many others that might be + mentioned prove, and experience confirms it, that artisans and + manufacturers will commonly be disposed to bestow their votes upon + merchants and those whom they recommend. We must therefore consider + merchants as the natural representatives of all these classes of the + community. +With regard to the learned professions, little need be observed; + they truly form no distinct interest in society, and according to + their situation and talents, will be indiscriminately the objects of + the confidence and choice of each other, and of other parts of the + community. +Nothing remains but the landed interest; and this, in a + political view, and particularly in relation to taxes, I take to be + perfectly united, from the wealthiest landlord down to the poorest + tenant. No tax can be laid on land which will not affect the + proprietor of millions of acres as well as the proprietor of a + single acre. Every landholder will therefore have a common interest + to keep the taxes on land as low as possible; and common interest + may always be reckoned upon as the surest bond of sympathy. But if + we even could suppose a distinction of interest between the opulent + landholder and the middling farmer, what reason is there to + conclude, that the first would stand a better chance of being + deputed to the national legislature than the last? If we take fact + as our guide, and look into our own senate and assembly, we shall + find that moderate proprietors of land prevail in both; nor is this + less the case in the senate, which consists of a smaller number, + than in the assembly, which is composed of a greater number. Where + the qualifications of the electors are the same, whether they have + to choose a small or a large number, their votes will fall upon + those in whom they have most confidence; whether these happen to be + men of large fortunes, or of moderate property, or of no property at + all. +It is said to be necessary, that all classes of citizens should + have some of their own number in the representative body, in order + that their feelings and interests may be the better understood and + attended to. But we have seen that this will never happen under any + arrangement that leaves the votes of the people free. Where this is + the case, the representative body, with too few exceptions to have + any influence on the spirit of the government, will be composed of + landholders, merchants, and men of the learned professions. But + where is the danger that the interests and feelings of the different + classes of citizens will not be understood or attended to by these + three descriptions of men? Will not the landholder know and feel + whatever will promote or insure the interest of landed property? + And will he not, from his own interest in that species of property, + be sufficiently prone to resist every attempt to prejudice or + encumber it? Will not the merchant understand and be disposed to + cultivate, as far as may be proper, the interests of the mechanic + and manufacturing arts, to which his commerce is so nearly allied? + Will not the man of the learned profession, who will feel a + neutrality to the rivalships between the different branches of + industry, be likely to prove an impartial arbiter between them, + ready to promote either, so far as it shall appear to him conducive + to the general interests of the society? +If we take into the account the momentary humors or dispositions + which may happen to prevail in particular parts of the society, and + to which a wise administration will never be inattentive, is the man + whose situation leads to extensive inquiry and information less + likely to be a competent judge of their nature, extent, and + foundation than one whose observation does not travel beyond the + circle of his neighbors and acquaintances? Is it not natural that a + man who is a candidate for the favor of the people, and who is + dependent on the suffrages of his fellow-citizens for the + continuance of his public honors, should take care to inform himself + of their dispositions and inclinations, and should be willing to + allow them their proper degree of influence upon his conduct? This + dependence, and the necessity of being bound himself, and his + posterity, by the laws to which he gives his assent, are the true, + and they are the strong chords of sympathy between the + representative and the constituent. +There is no part of the administration of government that + requires extensive information and a thorough knowledge of the + principles of political economy, so much as the business of taxation. + The man who understands those principles best will be least likely + to resort to oppressive expedients, or sacrifice any particular + class of citizens to the procurement of revenue. It might be + demonstrated that the most productive system of finance will always + be the least burdensome. There can be no doubt that in order to a + judicious exercise of the power of taxation, it is necessary that + the person in whose hands it should be acquainted with the general + genius, habits, and modes of thinking of the people at large, and + with the resources of the country. And this is all that can be + reasonably meant by a knowledge of the interests and feelings of the + people. In any other sense the proposition has either no meaning, + or an absurd one. And in that sense let every considerate citizen + judge for himself where the requisite qualification is most likely + to be found. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 36 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning the General Power of Taxation) +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday January 8, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +WE HAVE seen that the result of the observations, to which the + foregoing number has been principally devoted, is, that from the + natural operation of the different interests and views of the + various classes of the community, whether the representation of the + people be more or less numerous, it will consist almost entirely of + proprietors of land, of merchants, and of members of the learned + professions, who will truly represent all those different interests + and views. If it should be objected that we have seen other + descriptions of men in the local legislatures, I answer that it is + admitted there are exceptions to the rule, but not in sufficient + number to influence the general complexion or character of the + government. There are strong minds in every walk of life that will + rise superior to the disadvantages of situation, and will command + the tribute due to their merit, not only from the classes to which + they particularly belong, but from the society in general. The door + ought to be equally open to all; and I trust, for the credit of + human nature, that we shall see examples of such vigorous plants + flourishing in the soil of federal as well as of State legislation; + but occasional instances of this sort will not render the reasoning + founded upon the general course of things, less conclusive. +The subject might be placed in several other lights that would + all lead to the same result; and in particular it might be asked, + What greater affinity or relation of interest can be conceived + between the carpenter and blacksmith, and the linen manufacturer or + stocking weaver, than between the merchant and either of them? It + is notorious that there are often as great rivalships between + different branches of the mechanic or manufacturing arts as there + are between any of the departments of labor and industry; so that, + unless the representative body were to be far more numerous than + would be consistent with any idea of regularity or wisdom in its + deliberations, it is impossible that what seems to be the spirit of + the objection we have been considering should ever be realized in + practice. But I forbear to dwell any longer on a matter which has + hitherto worn too loose a garb to admit even of an accurate + inspection of its real shape or tendency. +There is another objection of a somewhat more precise nature + that claims our attention. It has been asserted that a power of + internal taxation in the national legislature could never be + exercised with advantage, as well from the want of a sufficient + knowledge of local circumstances, as from an interference between + the revenue laws of the Union and of the particular States. The + supposition of a want of proper knowledge seems to be entirely + destitute of foundation. If any question is depending in a State + legislature respecting one of the counties, which demands a + knowledge of local details, how is it acquired? No doubt from the + information of the members of the county. Cannot the like knowledge + be obtained in the national legislature from the representatives of + each State? And is it not to be presumed that the men who will + generally be sent there will be possessed of the necessary degree of + intelligence to be able to communicate that information? Is the + knowledge of local circumstances, as applied to taxation, a minute + topographical acquaintance with all the mountains, rivers, streams, + highways, and bypaths in each State; or is it a general + acquaintance with its situation and resources, with the state of its + agriculture, commerce, manufactures, with the nature of its products + and consumptions, with the different degrees and kinds of its + wealth, property, and industry? +Nations in general, even under governments of the more popular + kind, usually commit the administration of their finances to single + men or to boards composed of a few individuals, who digest and + prepare, in the first instance, the plans of taxation, which are + afterwards passed into laws by the authority of the sovereign or + legislature. +Inquisitive and enlightened statesmen are deemed everywhere best + qualified to make a judicious selection of the objects proper for + revenue; which is a clear indication, as far as the sense of + mankind can have weight in the question, of the species of knowledge + of local circumstances requisite to the purposes of taxation. +The taxes intended to be comprised under the general + denomination of internal taxes may be subdivided into those of the + DIRECT and those of the INDIRECT kind. Though the objection be made + to both, yet the reasoning upon it seems to be confined to the + former branch. And indeed, as to the latter, by which must be + understood duties and excises on articles of consumption, one is at + a loss to conceive what can be the nature of the difficulties + apprehended. The knowledge relating to them must evidently be of a + kind that will either be suggested by the nature of the article + itself, or can easily be procured from any well-informed man, + especially of the mercantile class. The circumstances that may + distinguish its situation in one State from its situation in another + must be few, simple, and easy to be comprehended. The principal + thing to be attended to, would be to avoid those articles which had + been previously appropriated to the use of a particular State; and + there could be no difficulty in ascertaining the revenue system of + each. This could always be known from the respective codes of laws, + as well as from the information of the members from the several + States. +The objection, when applied to real property or to houses and + lands, appears to have, at first sight, more foundation, but even in + this view it will not bear a close examination. Land taxes are co + monly laid in one of two modes, either by ACTUAL valuations, + permanent or periodical, or by OCCASIONAL assessments, at the + discretion, or according to the best judgment, of certain officers + whose duty it is to make them. In either case, the EXECUTION of the + business, which alone requires the knowledge of local details, must + be devolved upon discreet persons in the character of commissioners + or assessors, elected by the people or appointed by the government + for the purpose. All that the law can do must be to name the + persons or to prescribe the manner of their election or appointment, + to fix their numbers and qualifications and to draw the general + outlines of their powers and duties. And what is there in all this + that cannot as well be performed by the national legislature as by a + State legislature? The attention of either can only reach to + general principles; local details, as already observed, must be + referred to those who are to execute the plan. +But there is a simple point of view in which this matter may be + placed that must be altogether satisfactory. The national + legislature can make use of the SYSTEM OF EACH STATE WITHIN THAT + STATE. The method of laying and collecting this species of taxes in + each State can, in all its parts, be adopted and employed by the + federal government. +Let it be recollected that the proportion of these taxes is not + to be left to the discretion of the national legislature, but is to + be determined by the numbers of each State, as described in the + second section of the first article. An actual census or + enumeration of the people must furnish the rule, a circumstance + which effectually shuts the door to partiality or oppression. The + abuse of this power of taxation seems to have been provided against + with guarded circumspection. In addition to the precaution just + mentioned, there is a provision that ``all duties, imposts, and + excises shall be UNIFORM throughout the United States.'' +It has been very properly observed by different speakers and + writers on the side of the Constitution, that if the exercise of the + power of internal taxation by the Union should be discovered on + experiment to be really inconvenient, the federal government may + then forbear the use of it, and have recourse to requisitions in its + stead. By way of answer to this, it has been triumphantly asked, + Why not in the first instance omit that ambiguous power, and rely + upon the latter resource? Two solid answers may be given. The + first is, that the exercise of that power, if convenient, will be + preferable, because it will be more effectual; and it is impossible + to prove in theory, or otherwise than by the experiment, that it + cannot be advantageously exercised. The contrary, indeed, appears + most probable. The second answer is, that the existence of such a + power in the Constitution will have a strong influence in giving + efficacy to requisitions. When the States know that the Union can + apply itself without their agency, it will be a powerful motive for + exertion on their part. +As to the interference of the revenue laws of the Union, and of + its members, we have already seen that there can be no clashing or + repugnancy of authority. The laws cannot, therefore, in a legal + sense, interfere with each other; and it is far from impossible to + avoid an interference even in the policy of their different systems. + An effectual expedient for this purpose will be, mutually, to + abstain from those objects which either side may have first had + recourse to. As neither can CONTROL the other, each will have an + obvious and sensible interest in this reciprocal forbearance. And + where there is an IMMEDIATE common interest, we may safely count + upon its operation. When the particular debts of the States are + done away, and their expenses come to be limited within their + natural compass, the possibility almost of interference will vanish. + A small land tax will answer the purpose of the States, and will be + their most simple and most fit resource. +Many spectres have been raised out of this power of internal + taxation, to excite the apprehensions of the people: double sets of + revenue officers, a duplication of their burdens by double + taxations, and the frightful forms of odious and oppressive + poll-taxes, have been played off with all the ingenious dexterity of + political legerdemain. +As to the first point, there are two cases in which there can be + no room for double sets of officers: one, where the right of + imposing the tax is exclusively vested in the Union, which applies + to the duties on imports; the other, where the object has not + fallen under any State regulation or provision, which may be + applicable to a variety of objects. In other cases, the probability + is that the United States will either wholly abstain from the + objects preoccupied for local purposes, or will make use of the + State officers and State regulations for collecting the additional + imposition. This will best answer the views of revenue, because it + will save expense in the collection, and will best avoid any + occasion of disgust to the State governments and to the people. At + all events, here is a practicable expedient for avoiding such an + inconvenience; and nothing more can be required than to show that + evils predicted to not necessarily result from the plan. +As to any argument derived from a supposed system of influence, + it is a sufficient answer to say that it ought not to be presumed; + but the supposition is susceptible of a more precise answer. If + such a spirit should infest the councils of the Union, the most + certain road to the accomplishment of its aim would be to employ the + State officers as much as possible, and to attach them to the Union + by an accumulation of their emoluments. This would serve to turn + the tide of State influence into the channels of the national + government, instead of making federal influence flow in an opposite + and adverse current. But all suppositions of this kind are + invidious, and ought to be banished from the consideration of the + great question before the people. They can answer no other end than + to cast a mist over the truth. +As to the suggestion of double taxation, the answer is plain. + The wants of the Union are to be supplied in one way or another; + if to be done by the authority of the federal government, it will + not be to be done by that of the State government. The quantity of + taxes to be paid by the community must be the same in either case; + with this advantage, if the provision is to be made by the + Union that the capital resource of commercial imposts, which is the + most convenient branch of revenue, can be prudently improved to a + much greater extent under federal than under State regulation, and + of course will render it less necessary to recur to more + inconvenient methods; and with this further advantage, that as far + as there may be any real difficulty in the exercise of the power of + internal taxation, it will impose a disposition to greater care in + the choice and arrangement of the means; and must naturally tend to + make it a fixed point of policy in the national administration to go + as far as may be practicable in making the luxury of the rich + tributary to the public treasury, in order to diminish the necessity + of those impositions which might create dissatisfaction in the + poorer and most numerous classes of the society. Happy it is when + the interest which the government has in the preservation of its own + power, coincides with a proper distribution of the public burdens, + and tends to guard the least wealthy part of the community from + oppression! +As to poll taxes, I, without scruple, confess my disapprobation + of them; and though they have prevailed from an early period in + those States [1] which have uniformly been the most tenacious of + their rights, I should lament to see them introduced into practice + under the national government. But does it follow because there is + a power to lay them that they will actually be laid? Every State in + the Union has power to impose taxes of this kind; and yet in + several of them they are unknown in practice. Are the State + governments to be stigmatized as tyrannies, because they possess + this power? If they are not, with what propriety can the like power + justify such a charge against the national government, or even be + urged as an obstacle to its adoption? As little friendly as I am to + the species of imposition, I still feel a thorough conviction that + the power of having recourse to it ought to exist in the federal + government. There are certain emergencies of nations, in which + expedients, that in the ordinary state of things ought to be + forborne, become essential to the public weal. And the government, + from the possibility of such emergencies, ought ever to have the + option of making use of them. The real scarcity of objects in this + country, which may be considered as productive sources of revenue, + is a reason peculiar to itself, for not abridging the discretion of + the national councils in this respect. There may exist certain + critical and tempestuous conjunctures of the State, in which a poll + tax may become an inestimable resource. And as I know nothing to + exempt this portion of the globe from the common calamities that + have befallen other parts of it, I acknowledge my aversion to every + project that is calculated to disarm the government of a single + weapon, which in any possible contingency might be usefully employed + for the general defense and security. +I have now gone through the examination of such of the powers + proposed to be vested in the United States, which may be considered + as having an immediate relation to the energy of the government; + and have endeavored to answer the principal objections which have + been made to them. I have passed over in silence those minor + authorities, which are either too inconsiderable to have been + thought worthy of the hostilities of the opponents of the + Constitution, or of too manifest propriety to admit of controversy. + The mass of judiciary power, however, might have claimed an + investigation under this head, had it not been for the consideration + that its organization and its extent may be more advantageously + considered in connection. This has determined me to refer it to the + branch of our inquiries upon which we shall next enter. +PUBLIUS. +FNA1-@1 The New England States. + + +FEDERALIST No. 37 + +Concerning the Difficulties of the Convention in Devising a Proper + Form of Government +From the Daily Advertiser. +Friday, January 11, 1788. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IN REVIEWING the defects of the existing Confederation, and + showing that they cannot be supplied by a government of less energy + than that before the public, several of the most important + principles of the latter fell of course under consideration. But as + the ultimate object of these papers is to determine clearly and + fully the merits of this Constitution, and the expediency of + adopting it, our plan cannot be complete without taking a more + critical and thorough survey of the work of the convention, without + examining it on all its sides, comparing it in all its parts, and + calculating its probable effects. +That this remaining task may be executed under impressions + conducive to a just and fair result, some reflections must in this + place be indulged, which candor previously suggests. +It is a misfortune, inseparable from human affairs, that public + measures are rarely investigated with that spirit of moderation + which is essential to a just estimate of their real tendency to + advance or obstruct the public good; and that this spirit is more + apt to be diminished than promoted, by those occasions which require + an unusual exercise of it. To those who have been led by experience + to attend to this consideration, it could not appear surprising, + that the act of the convention, which recommends so many important + changes and innovations, which may be viewed in so many lights and + relations, and which touches the springs of so many passions and + interests, should find or excite dispositions unfriendly, both on + one side and on the other, to a fair discussion and accurate + judgment of its merits. In some, it has been too evident from their + own publications, that they have scanned the proposed Constitution, + not only with a predisposition to censure, but with a + predetermination to condemn; as the language held by others betrays + an opposite predetermination or bias, which must render their + opinions also of little moment in the question. In placing, + however, these different characters on a level, with respect to the + weight of their opinions, I wish not to insinuate that there may not + be a material difference in the purity of their intentions. It is + but just to remark in favor of the latter description, that as our + situation is universally admitted to be peculiarly critical, and to + require indispensably that something should be done for our relief, + the predetermined patron of what has been actually done may have + taken his bias from the weight of these considerations, as well as + from considerations of a sinister nature. The predetermined + adversary, on the other hand, can have been governed by no venial + motive whatever. The intentions of the first may be upright, as + they may on the contrary be culpable. The views of the last cannot + be upright, and must be culpable. But the truth is, that these + papers are not addressed to persons falling under either of these + characters. They solicit the attention of those only, who add to a + sincere zeal for the happiness of their country, a temper favorable + to a just estimate of the means of promoting it. +Persons of this character will proceed to an examination of the + plan submitted by the convention, not only without a disposition to + find or to magnify faults; but will see the propriety of + reflecting, that a faultless plan was not to be expected. Nor will + they barely make allowances for the errors which may be chargeable + on the fallibility to which the convention, as a body of men, were + liable; but will keep in mind, that they themselves also are but + men, and ought not to assume an infallibility in rejudging the + fallible opinions of others. +With equal readiness will it be perceived, that besides these + inducements to candor, many allowances ought to be made for the + difficulties inherent in the very nature of the undertaking referred + to the convention. +The novelty of the undertaking immediately strikes us. It has + been shown in the course of these papers, that the existing + Confederation is founded on principles which are fallacious; that + we must consequently change this first foundation, and with it the + superstructure resting upon it. It has been shown, that the other + confederacies which could be consulted as precedents have been + vitiated by the same erroneous principles, and can therefore furnish + no other light than that of beacons, which give warning of the + course to be shunned, without pointing out that which ought to be + pursued. The most that the convention could do in such a situation, + was to avoid the errors suggested by the past experience of other + countries, as well as of our own; and to provide a convenient mode + of rectifying their own errors, as future experiences may unfold + them. +Among the difficulties encountered by the convention, a very + important one must have lain in combining the requisite stability + and energy in government, with the inviolable attention due to + liberty and to the republican form. Without substantially + accomplishing this part of their undertaking, they would have very + imperfectly fulfilled the object of their appointment, or the + expectation of the public; yet that it could not be easily + accomplished, will be denied by no one who is unwilling to betray + his ignorance of the subject. Energy in government is essential to + that security against external and internal danger, and to that + prompt and salutary execution of the laws which enter into the very + definition of good government. Stability in government is essential + to national character and to the advantages annexed to it, as well + as to that repose and confidence in the minds of the people, which + are among the chief blessings of civil society. An irregular and + mutable legislation is not more an evil in itself than it is odious + to the people; and it may be pronounced with assurance that the + people of this country, enlightened as they are with regard to the + nature, and interested, as the great body of them are, in the + effects of good government, will never be satisfied till some remedy + be applied to the vicissitudes and uncertainties which characterize + the State administrations. On comparing, however, these valuable + ingredients with the vital principles of liberty, we must perceive + at once the difficulty of mingling them together in their due + proportions. The genius of republican liberty seems to demand on + one side, not only that all power should be derived from the people, + but that those intrusted with it should be kept in independence on + the people, by a short duration of their appointments; and that + even during this short period the trust should be placed not in a + few, but a number of hands. Stability, on the contrary, requires + that the hands in which power is lodged should continue for a length + of time the same. A frequent change of men will result from a + frequent return of elections; and a frequent change of measures + from a frequent change of men: whilst energy in government requires + not only a certain duration of power, but the execution of it by a + single hand. +How far the convention may have succeeded in this part of their + work, will better appear on a more accurate view of it. From the + cursory view here taken, it must clearly appear to have been an + arduous part. +Not less arduous must have been the task of marking the proper + line of partition between the authority of the general and that of + the State governments. Every man will be sensible of this + difficulty, in proportion as he has been accustomed to contemplate + and discriminate objects extensive and complicated in their nature. + The faculties of the mind itself have never yet been distinguished + and defined, with satisfactory precision, by all the efforts of the + most acute and metaphysical philosophers. Sense, perception, + judgment, desire, volition, memory, imagination, are found to be + separated by such delicate shades and minute gradations that their + boundaries have eluded the most subtle investigations, and remain a + pregnant source of ingenious disquisition and controversy. The + boundaries between the great kingdom of nature, and, still more, + between the various provinces, and lesser portions, into which they + are subdivided, afford another illustration of the same important + truth. The most sagacious and laborious naturalists have never yet + succeeded in tracing with certainty the line which separates the + district of vegetable life from the neighboring region of + unorganized matter, or which marks the termination of the former and + the commencement of the animal empire. A still greater obscurity + lies in the distinctive characters by which the objects in each of + these great departments of nature have been arranged and assorted. +When we pass from the works of nature, in which all the + delineations are perfectly accurate, and appear to be otherwise only + from the imperfection of the eye which surveys them, to the + institutions of man, in which the obscurity arises as well from the + object itself as from the organ by which it is contemplated, we must + perceive the necessity of moderating still further our expectations + and hopes from the efforts of human sagacity. Experience has + instructed us that no skill in the science of government has yet + been able to discriminate and define, with sufficient certainty, its + three great provinces the legislative, executive, and judiciary; or + even the privileges and powers of the different legislative branches. + Questions daily occur in the course of practice, which prove the + obscurity which reins in these subjects, and which puzzle the + greatest adepts in political science. +The experience of ages, with the continued and combined labors + of the most enlightened legislatures and jurists, has been equally + unsuccessful in delineating the several objects and limits of + different codes of laws and different tribunals of justice. The + precise extent of the common law, and the statute law, the maritime + law, the ecclesiastical law, the law of corporations, and other + local laws and customs, remains still to be clearly and finally + established in Great Britain, where accuracy in such subjects has + been more industriously pursued than in any other part of the world. + The jurisdiction of her several courts, general and local, of law, + of equity, of admiralty, etc., is not less a source of frequent and + intricate discussions, sufficiently denoting the indeterminate + limits by which they are respectively circumscribed. All new laws, + though penned with the greatest technical skill, and passed on the + fullest and most mature deliberation, are considered as more or less + obscure and equivocal, until their meaning be liquidated and + ascertained by a series of particular discussions and adjudications. + Besides the obscurity arising from the complexity of objects, and + the imperfection of the human faculties, the medium through which + the conceptions of men are conveyed to each other adds a fresh + embarrassment. The use of words is to express ideas. Perspicuity, + therefore, requires not only that the ideas should be distinctly + formed, but that they should be expressed by words distinctly and + exclusively appropriate to them. But no language is so copious as + to supply words and phrases for every complex idea, or so correct as + not to include many equivocally denoting different ideas. Hence it + must happen that however accurately objects may be discriminated in + themselves, and however accurately the discrimination may be + considered, the definition of them may be rendered inaccurate by the + inaccuracy of the terms in which it is delivered. And this + unavoidable inaccuracy must be greater or less, according to the + complexity and novelty of the objects defined. When the Almighty + himself condescends to address mankind in their own language, his + meaning, luminous as it must be, is rendered dim and doubtful by the + cloudy medium through which it is communicated. +Here, then, are three sources of vague and incorrect + definitions: indistinctness of the object, imperfection of the + organ of conception, inadequateness of the vehicle of ideas. Any + one of these must produce a certain degree of obscurity. The + convention, in delineating the boundary between the federal and + State jurisdictions, must have experienced the full effect of them + all. +To the difficulties already mentioned may be added the + interfering pretensions of the larger and smaller States. We cannot + err in supposing that the former would contend for a participation + in the government, fully proportioned to their superior wealth and + importance; and that the latter would not be less tenacious of the + equality at present enjoyed by them. We may well suppose that + neither side would entirely yield to the other, and consequently + that the struggle could be terminated only by compromise. It is + extremely probable, also, that after the ratio of representation had + been adjusted, this very compromise must have produced a fresh + struggle between the same parties, to give such a turn to the + organization of the government, and to the distribution of its + powers, as would increase the importance of the branches, in forming + which they had respectively obtained the greatest share of influence. + There are features in the Constitution which warrant each of these + suppositions; and as far as either of them is well founded, it + shows that the convention must have been compelled to sacrifice + theoretical propriety to the force of extraneous considerations. +Nor could it have been the large and small States only, which + would marshal themselves in opposition to each other on various + points. Other combinations, resulting from a difference of local + position and policy, must have created additional difficulties. As + every State may be divided into different districts, and its + citizens into different classes, which give birth to contending + interests and local jealousies, so the different parts of the United + States are distinguished from each other by a variety of + circumstances, which produce a like effect on a larger scale. And + although this variety of interests, for reasons sufficiently + explained in a former paper, may have a salutary influence on the + administration of the government when formed, yet every one must be + sensible of the contrary influence, which must have been experienced + in the task of forming it. +Would it be wonderful if, under the pressure of all these + difficulties, the convention should have been forced into some + deviations from that artificial structure and regular symmetry which + an abstract view of the subject might lead an ingenious theorist to + bestow on a Constitution planned in his closet or in his + imagination? The real wonder is that so many difficulties should + have been surmounted, and surmounted with a unanimity almost as + unprecedented as it must have been unexpected. It is impossible for + any man of candor to reflect on this circumstance without partaking + of the astonishment. It is impossible for the man of pious + reflection not to perceive in it a finger of that Almighty hand + which has been so frequently and signally extended to our relief in + the critical stages of the revolution. +We had occasion, in a former paper, to take notice of the + repeated trials which have been unsuccessfully made in the United + Netherlands for reforming the baneful and notorious vices of their + constitution. The history of almost all the great councils and + consultations held among mankind for reconciling their discordant + opinions, assuaging their mutual jealousies, and adjusting their + respective interests, is a history of factions, contentions, and + disappointments, and may be classed among the most dark and degraded + pictures which display the infirmities and depravities of the human + character. If, in a few scattered instances, a brighter aspect is + presented, they serve only as exceptions to admonish us of the + general truth; and by their lustre to darken the gloom of the + adverse prospect to which they are contrasted. In revolving the + causes from which these exceptions result, and applying them to the + particular instances before us, we are necessarily led to two + important conclusions. The first is, that the convention must have + enjoyed, in a very singular degree, an exemption from the + pestilential influence of party animosities the disease most + incident to deliberative bodies, and most apt to contaminate their + proceedings. The second conclusion is that all the deputations + composing the convention were satisfactorily accommodated by the + final act, or were induced to accede to it by a deep conviction of + the necessity of sacrificing private opinions and partial interests + to the public good, and by a despair of seeing this necessity + diminished by delays or by new experiments. + + +FEDERALIST No. 38 + +The Same Subject Continued, and the Incoherence of the Objections + to the New Plan Exposed +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, January 15, 1788. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT IS not a little remarkable that in every case reported by + ancient history, in which government has been established with + deliberation and consent, the task of framing it has not been + committed to an assembly of men, but has been performed by some + individual citizen of preeminent wisdom and approved integrity. +Minos, we learn, was the primitive founder of the government of + Crete, as Zaleucus was of that of the Locrians. Theseus first, and + after him Draco and Solon, instituted the government of Athens. + Lycurgus was the lawgiver of Sparta. The foundation of the + original government of Rome was laid by Romulus, and the work + completed by two of his elective successors, Numa and Tullius + Hostilius. On the abolition of royalty the consular administration + was substituted by Brutus, who stepped forward with a project for + such a reform, which, he alleged, had been prepared by Tullius + Hostilius, and to which his address obtained the assent and + ratification of the senate and people. This remark is applicable to + confederate governments also. Amphictyon, we are told, was the + author of that which bore his name. The Achaean league received its + first birth from Achaeus, and its second from Aratus. +What degree of agency these reputed lawgivers might have in + their respective establishments, or how far they might be clothed + with the legitimate authority of the people, cannot in every + instance be ascertained. In some, however, the proceeding was + strictly regular. Draco appears to have been intrusted by the + people of Athens with indefinite powers to reform its government and + laws. And Solon, according to Plutarch, was in a manner compelled, + by the universal suffrage of his fellow-citizens, to take upon him + the sole and absolute power of new-modeling the constitution. The + proceedings under Lycurgus were less regular; but as far as the + advocates for a regular reform could prevail, they all turned their + eyes towards the single efforts of that celebrated patriot and sage, + instead of seeking to bring about a revolution by the intervention + of a deliberative body of citizens. +Whence could it have proceeded, that a people, jealous as the + Greeks were of their liberty, should so far abandon the rules of + caution as to place their destiny in the hands of a single citizen? + Whence could it have proceeded, that the Athenians, a people who + would not suffer an army to be commanded by fewer than ten generals, + and who required no other proof of danger to their liberties than + the illustrious merit of a fellow-citizen, should consider one + illustrious citizen as a more eligible depositary of the fortunes of + themselves and their posterity, than a select body of citizens, from + whose common deliberations more wisdom, as well as more safety, + might have been expected? These questions cannot be fully answered, + without supposing that the fears of discord and disunion among a + number of counsellors exceeded the apprehension of treachery or + incapacity in a single individual. History informs us, likewise, of + the difficulties with which these celebrated reformers had to + contend, as well as the expedients which they were obliged to employ + in order to carry their reforms into effect. Solon, who seems to + have indulged a more temporizing policy, confessed that he had not + given to his countrymen the government best suited to their + happiness, but most tolerable to their prejudices. And Lycurgus, + more true to his object, was under the necessity of mixing a portion + of violence with the authority of superstition, and of securing his + final success by a voluntary renunciation, first of his country, and + then of his life. If these lessons teach us, on one hand, to admire + the improvement made by America on the ancient mode of preparing and + establishing regular plans of government, they serve not less, on + the other, to admonish us of the hazards and difficulties incident + to such experiments, and of the great imprudence of unnecessarily + multiplying them. +Is it an unreasonable conjecture, that the errors which may be + contained in the plan of the convention are such as have resulted + rather from the defect of antecedent experience on this complicated + and difficult subject, than from a want of accuracy or care in the + investigation of it; and, consequently such as will not be + ascertained until an actual trial shall have pointed them out? This + conjecture is rendered probable, not only by many considerations of + a general nature, but by the particular case of the Articles of + Confederation. It is observable that among the numerous objections + and amendments suggested by the several States, when these articles + were submitted for their ratification, not one is found which + alludes to the great and radical error which on actual trial has + discovered itself. And if we except the observations which New + Jersey was led to make, rather by her local situation, than by her + peculiar foresight, it may be questioned whether a single suggestion + was of sufficient moment to justify a revision of the system. There + is abundant reason, nevertheless, to suppose that immaterial as + these objections were, they would have been adhered to with a very + dangerous inflexibility, in some States, had not a zeal for their + opinions and supposed interests been stifled by the more powerful + sentiment of selfpreservation. One State, we may remember, + persisted for several years in refusing her concurrence, although + the enemy remained the whole period at our gates, or rather in the + very bowels of our country. Nor was her pliancy in the end effected + by a less motive, than the fear of being chargeable with protracting + the public calamities, and endangering the event of the contest. + Every candid reader will make the proper reflections on these + important facts. +A patient who finds his disorder daily growing worse, and that + an efficacious remedy can no longer be delayed without extreme + danger, after coolly revolving his situation, and the characters of + different physicians, selects and calls in such of them as he judges + most capable of administering relief, and best entitled to his + confidence. The physicians attend; the case of the patient is + carefully examined; a consultation is held; they are unanimously + agreed that the symptoms are critical, but that the case, with + proper and timely relief, is so far from being desperate, that it + may be made to issue in an improvement of his constitution. They + are equally unanimous in prescribing the remedy, by which this happy + effect is to be produced. The prescription is no sooner made known, + however, than a number of persons interpose, and, without denying + the reality or danger of the disorder, assure the patient that the + prescription will be poison to his constitution, and forbid him, + under pain of certain death, to make use of it. Might not the + patient reasonably demand, before he ventured to follow this advice, + that the authors of it should at least agree among themselves on + some other remedy to be substituted? And if he found them differing + as much from one another as from his first counsellors, would he not + act prudently in trying the experiment unanimously recommended by + the latter, rather than be hearkening to those who could neither + deny the necessity of a speedy remedy, nor agree in proposing one? +Such a patient and in such a situation is America at this moment. + She has been sensible of her malady. She has obtained a regular + and unanimous advice from men of her own deliberate choice. And she + is warned by others against following this advice under pain of the + most fatal consequences. Do the monitors deny the reality of her + danger? No. Do they deny the necessity of some speedy and powerful + remedy? No. Are they agreed, are any two of them agreed, in their + objections to the remedy proposed, or in the proper one to be + substituted? Let them speak for themselves. This one tells us that + the proposed Constitution ought to be rejected, because it is not a + confederation of the States, but a government over individuals. + Another admits that it ought to be a government over individuals to + a certain extent, but by no means to the extent proposed. A third + does not object to the government over individuals, or to the extent + proposed, but to the want of a bill of rights. A fourth concurs in + the absolute necessity of a bill of rights, but contends that it + ought to be declaratory, not of the personal rights of individuals, + but of the rights reserved to the States in their political capacity. + A fifth is of opinion that a bill of rights of any sort would be + superfluous and misplaced, and that the plan would be + unexceptionable but for the fatal power of regulating the times and + places of election. An objector in a large State exclaims loudly + against the unreasonable equality of representation in the Senate. + An objector in a small State is equally loud against the dangerous + inequality in the House of Representatives. From this quarter, we + are alarmed with the amazing expense, from the number of persons who + are to administer the new government. From another quarter, and + sometimes from the same quarter, on another occasion, the cry is + that the Congress will be but a shadow of a representation, and that + the government would be far less objectionable if the number and the + expense were doubled. A patriot in a State that does not import or + export, discerns insuperable objections against the power of direct + taxation. The patriotic adversary in a State of great exports and + imports, is not less dissatisfied that the whole burden of taxes may + be thrown on consumption. This politician discovers in the + Constitution a direct and irresistible tendency to monarchy; that + is equally sure it will end in aristocracy. Another is puzzled to + say which of these shapes it will ultimately assume, but sees + clearly it must be one or other of them; whilst a fourth is not + wanting, who with no less confidence affirms that the Constitution + is so far from having a bias towards either of these dangers, that + the weight on that side will not be sufficient to keep it upright + and firm against its opposite propensities. With another class of + adversaries to the Constitution the language is that the + legislative, executive, and judiciary departments are intermixed in + such a manner as to contradict all the ideas of regular government + and all the requisite precautions in favor of liberty. Whilst this + objection circulates in vague and general expressions, there are but + a few who lend their sanction to it. Let each one come forward with + his particular explanation, and scarce any two are exactly agreed + upon the subject. In the eyes of one the junction of the Senate + with the President in the responsible function of appointing to + offices, instead of vesting this executive power in the Executive + alone, is the vicious part of the organization. To another, the + exclusion of the House of Representatives, whose numbers alone could + be a due security against corruption and partiality in the exercise + of such a power, is equally obnoxious. With another, the admission + of the President into any share of a power which ever must be a + dangerous engine in the hands of the executive magistrate, is an + unpardonable violation of the maxims of republican jealousy. No + part of the arrangement, according to some, is more inadmissible + than the trial of impeachments by the Senate, which is alternately a + member both of the legislative and executive departments, when this + power so evidently belonged to the judiciary department. ``We + concur fully,'' reply others, ``in the objection to this part of the + plan, but we can never agree that a reference of impeachments to the + judiciary authority would be an amendment of the error. Our + principal dislike to the organization arises from the extensive + powers already lodged in that department.'' Even among the zealous + patrons of a council of state the most irreconcilable variance is + discovered concerning the mode in which it ought to be constituted. + The demand of one gentleman is, that the council should consist of + a small number to be appointed by the most numerous branch of the + legislature. Another would prefer a larger number, and considers it + as a fundamental condition that the appointment should be made by + the President himself. +As it can give no umbrage to the writers against the plan of the + federal Constitution, let us suppose, that as they are the most + zealous, so they are also the most sagacious, of those who think the + late convention were unequal to the task assigned them, and that a + wiser and better plan might and ought to be substituted. Let us + further suppose that their country should concur, both in this + favorable opinion of their merits, and in their unfavorable opinion + of the convention; and should accordingly proceed to form them into + a second convention, with full powers, and for the express purpose + of revising and remoulding the work of the first. Were the + experiment to be seriously made, though it required some effort to + view it seriously even in fiction, I leave it to be decided by the + sample of opinions just exhibited, whether, with all their enmity to + their predecessors, they would, in any one point, depart so widely + from their example, as in the discord and ferment that would mark + their own deliberations; and whether the Constitution, now before + the public, would not stand as fair a chance for immortality, as + Lycurgus gave to that of Sparta, by making its change to depend on + his own return from exile and death, if it were to be immediately + adopted, and were to continue in force, not until a BETTER, but + until ANOTHER should be agreed upon by this new assembly of + lawgivers. +It is a matter both of wonder and regret, that those who raise + so many objections against the new Constitution should never call to + mind the defects of that which is to be exchanged for it. It is not + necessary that the former should be perfect; it is sufficient that + the latter is more imperfect. No man would refuse to give brass for + silver or gold, because the latter had some alloy in it. No man + would refuse to quit a shattered and tottering habitation for a firm + and commodious building, because the latter had not a porch to it, + or because some of the rooms might be a little larger or smaller, or + the ceilings a little higher or lower than his fancy would have + planned them. But waiving illustrations of this sort, is it not + manifest that most of the capital objections urged against the new + system lie with tenfold weight against the existing Confederation? + Is an indefinite power to raise money dangerous in the hands of the + federal government? The present Congress can make requisitions to + any amount they please, and the States are constitutionally bound to + furnish them; they can emit bills of credit as long as they will + pay for the paper; they can borrow, both abroad and at home, as + long as a shilling will be lent. Is an indefinite power to raise + troops dangerous? The Confederation gives to Congress that power + also; and they have already begun to make use of it. Is it + improper and unsafe to intermix the different powers of government + in the same body of men? Congress, a single body of men, are the + sole depositary of all the federal powers. Is it particularly + dangerous to give the keys of the treasury, and the command of the + army, into the same hands? The Confederation places them both in + the hands of Congress. Is a bill of rights essential to liberty? + The Confederation has no bill of rights. Is it an objection + against the new Constitution, that it empowers the Senate, with the + concurrence of the Executive, to make treaties which are to be the + laws of the land? The existing Congress, without any such control, + can make treaties which they themselves have declared, and most of + the States have recognized, to be the supreme law of the land. Is + the importation of slaves permitted by the new Constitution for + twenty years? By the old it is permitted forever. +I shall be told, that however dangerous this mixture of powers + may be in theory, it is rendered harmless by the dependence of + Congress on the State for the means of carrying them into practice; + that however large the mass of powers may be, it is in fact a + lifeless mass. Then, say I, in the first place, that the + Confederation is chargeable with the still greater folly of + declaring certain powers in the federal government to be absolutely + necessary, and at the same time rendering them absolutely nugatory; + and, in the next place, that if the Union is to continue, and no + better government be substituted, effective powers must either be + granted to, or assumed by, the existing Congress; in either of + which events, the contrast just stated will hold good. But this is + not all. Out of this lifeless mass has already grown an excrescent + power, which tends to realize all the dangers that can be + apprehended from a defective construction of the supreme government + of the Union. It is now no longer a point of speculation and hope, + that the Western territory is a mine of vast wealth to the United + States; and although it is not of such a nature as to extricate + them from their present distresses, or for some time to come, to + yield any regular supplies for the public expenses, yet must it + hereafter be able, under proper management, both to effect a gradual + discharge of the domestic debt, and to furnish, for a certain + period, liberal tributes to the federal treasury. A very large + proportion of this fund has been already surrendered by individual + States; and it may with reason be expected that the remaining + States will not persist in withholding similar proofs of their + equity and generosity. We may calculate, therefore, that a rich and + fertile country, of an area equal to the inhabited extent of the + United States, will soon become a national stock. Congress have + assumed the administration of this stock. They have begun to render + it productive. Congress have undertaken to do more: they have + proceeded to form new States, to erect temporary governments, to + appoint officers for them, and to prescribe the conditions on which + such States shall be admitted into the Confederacy. All this has + been done; and done without the least color of constitutional + authority. Yet no blame has been whispered; no alarm has been + sounded. A GREAT and INDEPENDENT fund of revenue is passing into + the hands of a SINGLE BODY of men, who can RAISE TROOPS to an + INDEFINITE NUMBER, and appropriate money to their support for an + INDEFINITE PERIOD OF TIME. And yet there are men, who have not only + been silent spectators of this prospect, but who are advocates for + the system which exhibits it; and, at the same time, urge against + the new system the objections which we have heard. Would they not + act with more consistency, in urging the establishment of the + latter, as no less necessary to guard the Union against the future + powers and resources of a body constructed like the existing + Congress, than to save it from the dangers threatened by the present + impotency of that Assembly? +I mean not, by any thing here said, to throw censure on the + measures which have been pursued by Congress. I am sensible they + could not have done otherwise. The public interest, the necessity + of the case, imposed upon them the task of overleaping their + constitutional limits. But is not the fact an alarming proof of the + danger resulting from a government which does not possess regular + powers commensurate to its objects? A dissolution or usurpation is + the dreadful dilemma to which it is continually exposed. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 39 + +The Conformity of the Plan to Republican Principles +For the Independent Journal. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE last paper having concluded the observations which were + meant to introduce a candid survey of the plan of government + reported by the convention, we now proceed to the execution of that + part of our undertaking. +The first question that offers itself is, whether the general + form and aspect of the government be strictly republican. It is + evident that no other form would be reconcilable with the genius of + the people of America; with the fundamental principles of the + Revolution; or with that honorable determination which animates + every votary of freedom, to rest all our political experiments on + the capacity of mankind for self-government. If the plan of the + convention, therefore, be found to depart from the republican + character, its advocates must abandon it as no longer defensible. +What, then, are the distinctive characters of the republican + form? Were an answer to this question to be sought, not by + recurring to principles, but in the application of the term by + political writers, to the constitution of different States, no + satisfactory one would ever be found. Holland, in which no particle + of the supreme authority is derived from the people, has passed + almost universally under the denomination of a republic. The same + title has been bestowed on Venice, where absolute power over the + great body of the people is exercised, in the most absolute manner, + by a small body of hereditary nobles. Poland, which is a mixture of + aristocracy and of monarchy in their worst forms, has been dignified + with the same appellation. The government of England, which has one + republican branch only, combined with an hereditary aristocracy and + monarchy, has, with equal impropriety, been frequently placed on the + list of republics. These examples, which are nearly as dissimilar + to each other as to a genuine republic, show the extreme inaccuracy + with which the term has been used in political disquisitions. +If we resort for a criterion to the different principles on + which different forms of government are established, we may define a + republic to be, or at least may bestow that name on, a government + which derives all its powers directly or indirectly from the great + body of the people, and is administered by persons holding their + offices during pleasure, for a limited period, or during good + behavior. It is ESSENTIAL to such a government that it be derived + from the great body of the society, not from an inconsiderable + proportion, or a favored class of it; otherwise a handful of + tyrannical nobles, exercising their oppressions by a delegation of + their powers, might aspire to the rank of republicans, and claim for + their government the honorable title of republic. It is SUFFICIENT + for such a government that the persons administering it be + appointed, either directly or indirectly, by the people; and that + they hold their appointments by either of the tenures just + specified; otherwise every government in the United States, as well + as every other popular government that has been or can be well + organized or well executed, would be degraded from the republican + character. According to the constitution of every State in the + Union, some or other of the officers of government are appointed + indirectly only by the people. According to most of them, the chief + magistrate himself is so appointed. And according to one, this mode + of appointment is extended to one of the co-ordinate branches of the + legislature. According to all the constitutions, also, the tenure + of the highest offices is extended to a definite period, and in many + instances, both within the legislative and executive departments, to + a period of years. According to the provisions of most of the + constitutions, again, as well as according to the most respectable + and received opinions on the subject, the members of the judiciary + department are to retain their offices by the firm tenure of good + behavior. +On comparing the Constitution planned by the convention with the + standard here fixed, we perceive at once that it is, in the most + rigid sense, conformable to it. The House of Representatives, like + that of one branch at least of all the State legislatures, is + elected immediately by the great body of the people. The Senate, + like the present Congress, and the Senate of Maryland, derives its + appointment indirectly from the people. The President is indirectly + derived from the choice of the people, according to the example in + most of the States. Even the judges, with all other officers of the + Union, will, as in the several States, be the choice, though a + remote choice, of the people themselves, the duration of the + appointments is equally conformable to the republican standard, and + to the model of State constitutions The House of Representatives is + periodically elective, as in all the States; and for the period of + two years, as in the State of South Carolina. The Senate is + elective, for the period of six years; which is but one year more + than the period of the Senate of Maryland, and but two more than + that of the Senates of New York and Virginia. The President is to + continue in office for the period of four years; as in New York and + Delaware, the chief magistrate is elected for three years, and in + South Carolina for two years. In the other States the election is + annual. In several of the States, however, no constitutional + provision is made for the impeachment of the chief magistrate. And + in Delaware and Virginia he is not impeachable till out of office. + The President of the United States is impeachable at any time + during his continuance in office. The tenure by which the judges + are to hold their places, is, as it unquestionably ought to be, that + of good behavior. The tenure of the ministerial offices generally, + will be a subject of legal regulation, conformably to the reason of + the case and the example of the State constitutions. +Could any further proof be required of the republican complexion + of this system, the most decisive one might be found in its absolute + prohibition of titles of nobility, both under the federal and the + State governments; and in its express guaranty of the republican + form to each of the latter. +``But it was not sufficient,'' say the adversaries of the + proposed Constitution, ``for the convention to adhere to the + republican form. They ought, with equal care, to have preserved the + FEDERAL form, which regards the Union as a CONFEDERACY of sovereign + states; instead of which, they have framed a NATIONAL government, + which regards the Union as a CONSOLIDATION of the States.'' And it + is asked by what authority this bold and radical innovation was + undertaken? The handle which has been made of this objection + requires that it should be examined with some precision. +Without inquiring into the accuracy of the distinction on which + the objection is founded, it will be necessary to a just estimate of + its force, first, to ascertain the real character of the government + in question; secondly, to inquire how far the convention were + authorized to propose such a government; and thirdly, how far the + duty they owed to their country could supply any defect of regular + authority. +First. In order to ascertain the real character of the + government, it may be considered in relation to the foundation on + which it is to be established; to the sources from which its + ordinary powers are to be drawn; to the operation of those powers; + to the extent of them; and to the authority by which future + changes in the government are to be introduced. +On examining the first relation, it appears, on one hand, that + the Constitution is to be founded on the assent and ratification of + the people of America, given by deputies elected for the special + purpose; but, on the other, that this assent and ratification is to + be given by the people, not as individuals composing one entire + nation, but as composing the distinct and independent States to + which they respectively belong. It is to be the assent and + ratification of the several States, derived from the supreme + authority in each State, the authority of the people themselves. + The act, therefore, establishing the Constitution, will not be a + NATIONAL, but a FEDERAL act. +That it will be a federal and not a national act, as these terms + are understood by the objectors; the act of the people, as forming + so many independent States, not as forming one aggregate nation, is + obvious from this single consideration, that it is to result neither + from the decision of a MAJORITY of the people of the Union, nor from + that of a MAJORITY of the States. It must result from the UNANIMOUS + assent of the several States that are parties to it, differing no + otherwise from their ordinary assent than in its being expressed, + not by the legislative authority, but by that of the people + themselves. Were the people regarded in this transaction as forming + one nation, the will of the majority of the whole people of the + United States would bind the minority, in the same manner as the + majority in each State must bind the minority; and the will of the + majority must be determined either by a comparison of the individual + votes, or by considering the will of the majority of the States as + evidence of the will of a majority of the people of the United + States. Neither of these rules have been adopted. Each State, in + ratifying the Constitution, is considered as a sovereign body, + independent of all others, and only to be bound by its own voluntary + act. In this relation, then, the new Constitution will, if + established, be a FEDERAL, and not a NATIONAL constitution. +The next relation is, to the sources from which the ordinary + powers of government are to be derived. The House of + Representatives will derive its powers from the people of America; + and the people will be represented in the same proportion, and on + the same principle, as they are in the legislature of a particular + State. So far the government is NATIONAL, not FEDERAL. The Senate, + on the other hand, will derive its powers from the States, as + political and coequal societies; and these will be represented on + the principle of equality in the Senate, as they now are in the + existing Congress. So far the government is FEDERAL, not NATIONAL. + The executive power will be derived from a very compound source. + The immediate election of the President is to be made by the States + in their political characters. The votes allotted to them are in a + compound ratio, which considers them partly as distinct and coequal + societies, partly as unequal members of the same society. The + eventual election, again, is to be made by that branch of the + legislature which consists of the national representatives; but in + this particular act they are to be thrown into the form of + individual delegations, from so many distinct and coequal bodies + politic. From this aspect of the government it appears to be of a + mixed character, presenting at least as many FEDERAL as NATIONAL + features. +The difference between a federal and national government, as it + relates to the OPERATION OF THE GOVERNMENT, is supposed to consist + in this, that in the former the powers operate on the political + bodies composing the Confederacy, in their political capacities; in + the latter, on the individual citizens composing the nation, in + their individual capacities. On trying the Constitution by this + criterion, it falls under the NATIONAL, not the FEDERAL character; + though perhaps not so completely as has been understood. In + several cases, and particularly in the trial of controversies to + which States may be parties, they must be viewed and proceeded + against in their collective and political capacities only. So far + the national countenance of the government on this side seems to be + disfigured by a few federal features. But this blemish is perhaps + unavoidable in any plan; and the operation of the government on the + people, in their individual capacities, in its ordinary and most + essential proceedings, may, on the whole, designate it, in this + relation, a NATIONAL government. +But if the government be national with regard to the OPERATION + of its powers, it changes its aspect again when we contemplate it in + relation to the EXTENT of its powers. The idea of a national + government involves in it, not only an authority over the individual + citizens, but an indefinite supremacy over all persons and things, + so far as they are objects of lawful government. Among a people + consolidated into one nation, this supremacy is completely vested in + the national legislature. Among communities united for particular + purposes, it is vested partly in the general and partly in the + municipal legislatures. In the former case, all local authorities + are subordinate to the supreme; and may be controlled, directed, or + abolished by it at pleasure. In the latter, the local or municipal + authorities form distinct and independent portions of the supremacy, + no more subject, within their respective spheres, to the general + authority, than the general authority is subject to them, within its + own sphere. In this relation, then, the proposed government cannot + be deemed a NATIONAL one; since its jurisdiction extends to certain + enumerated objects only, and leaves to the several States a + residuary and inviolable sovereignty over all other objects. It is + true that in controversies relating to the boundary between the two + jurisdictions, the tribunal which is ultimately to decide, is to be + established under the general government. But this does not change + the principle of the case. The decision is to be impartially made, + according to the rules of the Constitution; and all the usual and + most effectual precautions are taken to secure this impartiality. + Some such tribunal is clearly essential to prevent an appeal to the + sword and a dissolution of the compact; and that it ought to be + established under the general rather than under the local + governments, or, to speak more properly, that it could be safely + established under the first alone, is a position not likely to be + combated. +If we try the Constitution by its last relation to the authority + by which amendments are to be made, we find it neither wholly + NATIONAL nor wholly FEDERAL. Were it wholly national, the supreme + and ultimate authority would reside in the MAJORITY of the people of + the Union; and this authority would be competent at all times, like + that of a majority of every national society, to alter or abolish + its established government. Were it wholly federal, on the other + hand, the concurrence of each State in the Union would be essential + to every alteration that would be binding on all. The mode provided + by the plan of the convention is not founded on either of these + principles. In requiring more than a majority, and principles. In + requiring more than a majority, and particularly in computing the + proportion by STATES, not by CITIZENS, it departs from the NATIONAL + and advances towards the FEDERAL character; in rendering the + concurrence of less than the whole number of States sufficient, it + loses again the FEDERAL and partakes of the NATIONAL character. +The proposed Constitution, therefore, is, in strictness, neither + a national nor a federal Constitution, but a composition of both. + In its foundation it is federal, not national; in the sources from + which the ordinary powers of the government are drawn, it is partly + federal and partly national; in the operation of these powers, it + is national, not federal; in the extent of them, again, it is + federal, not national; and, finally, in the authoritative mode of + introducing amendments, it is neither wholly federal nor wholly + national. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 40 +The Powers of the Convention to Form a Mixed Government Examined +and Sustained +From the New York Packet. +Friday, January 18, 1788. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE SECOND point to be examined is, whether the convention were +authorized to frame and propose this mixed Constitution. The +powers of the convention ought, in strictness, to be determined +by an inspection of the commissions given to the members by their +respective constituents. As all of these, however, had reference, +either to the recommendation from the meeting at Annapolis, in +September, 1786, or to that from Congress, in February, 1787, it +will be sufficient to recur to these particular acts. The act +from Annapolis recommends the ``appointment of commissioners to +take into consideration the situation of the United States; to +devise SUCH FURTHER PROVISIONS as shall appear to them necessary +to render the Constitution of the federal government ADEQUATE TO +THE EXIGENCIES OF THE UNION; and to report such an act for that +purpose, to the United States in Congress assembled, as when +agreed to by them, and afterwards confirmed by the legislature of +every State, will effectually provide for the same. ''The +recommendatory act of Congress is in the words +following:``WHEREAS, There is provision in the articles of +Confederation and perpetual Union, for making alterations +therein, by the assent of a Congress of the United States, and of +the legislatures of the several States; and whereas experience +hath evinced, that there are defects in the present +Confederation; as a mean to remedy which, several of the States, +and PARTICULARLY THE STATE OF NEW YORK, by express instructions +to their delegates in Congress, have suggested a convention for +the purposes expressed in the following resolution; and such +convention appearing to be the most probable mean of establishing +in these States A FIRM NATIONAL GOVERNMENT:``Resolved, That in +the opinion of Congress it is expedient, that on the second +Monday of May next a convention of delegates, who shall have been +appointed by the several States, be held at Philadelphia, for the +sole and express purpose OF REVISING THE ARTICLES OF +CONFEDERATION, and reporting to Congress and the several +legislatures such ALTERATIONS AND PROVISIONS THEREIN, as shall, +when agreed to in Congress, and confirmed by the States, render +the federal Constitution ADEQUATE TO THE EXIGENCIES OF GOVERNMENT +AND THE PRESERVATION OF THE UNION. ''From these two acts, it +appears, 1st, that the object of the convention was to establish, +in these States, A FIRM NATIONAL GOVERNMENT; 2d, that this +government was to be such as would be ADEQUATE TO THE EXIGENCIES +OF GOVERNMENT and THE PRESERVATION OF THE UNION; 3d, that these +purposes were to be effected by ALTERATIONS AND PROVISIONS IN THE +ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION, as it is expressed in the act of +Congress, or by SUCH FURTHER PROVISIONS AS SHOULD APPEAR +NECESSARY, as it stands in the recommendatory act from Annapolis; +4th, that the alterations and provisions were to be reported to +Congress, and to the States, in order to be agreed to by the +former and confirmed by the latter. From a comparison and fair +construction of these several modes of expression, is to be +deduced the authority under which the convention acted. They were +to frame a NATIONAL GOVERNMENT, adequate to the EXIGENCIES OF +GOVERNMENT, and OF THE UNION; and to reduce the articles of +Confederation into such form as to accomplish these purposes. +There are two rules of construction, dictated by plain reason, as +well as founded on legal axioms. The one is, that every part of +the expression ought, if possible, to be allowed some meaning, +and be made to conspire to some common end. The other is, that +where the several parts cannot be made to coincide, the less +important should give way to the more important part; the means +should be sacrificed to the end, rather than the end to the +means. Suppose, then, that the expressions defining the +authority of the convention were irreconcilably at variance with +each other; that a NATIONAL and ADEQUATE GOVERNMENT could not +possibly, in the judgment of the convention, be affected by +ALTERATIONS and PROVISIONS in the ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION; +which part of the definition ought to have been embraced, and +which rejected? Which was the more important, which the less +important part? Which the end; which the means? Let the most +scrupulous expositors of delegated powers; let the most +inveterate objectors against those exercised by the convention, +answer these questions. Let them declare, whether it was of most +importance to the happiness of the people of America, that the +articles of Confederation should be disregarded, and an adequate +government be provided, and the Union preserved; or that an +adequate government should be omitted, and the articles of +Confederation preserved. Let them declare, whether the +preservation of these articles was the end, for securing which a +reform of the government was to be introduced as the means; or +whether the establishment of a government, adequate to the +national happiness, was the end at which these articles +themselves originally aimed, and to which they ought, as +insufficient means, to have been sacrificed. But is it necessary +to suppose that these expressions are absolutely irreconcilable +to each other; that no ALTERATIONS or PROVISIONS in THE ARTICLES +OF THE CONFEDERATION could possibly mould them into a national +and adequate government; into such a government as has been +proposed by the convention? No stress, it is presumed, will, in +this case, be laid on the TITLE; a change of that could never be +deemed an exercise of ungranted power. ALTERATIONS in the body of +the instrument are expressly authorized. NEW PROVISIONS therein +are also expressly authorized. Here then is a power to change the +title; to insert new articles; to alter old ones. Must it of +necessity be admitted that this power is infringed, so long as a +part of the old articles remain? Those who maintain the +affirmative ought at least to mark the boundary between +authorized and usurped innovations; between that degree of change +which lies within the compass of ALTERATIONS AND FURTHER +PROVISIONS, and that which amounts to a TRANSMUTATION of the +government. Will it be said that the alterations ought not to +have touched the substance of the Confederation? The States +would never have appointed a convention with so much solemnity, +nor described its objects with so much latitude, if some +SUBSTANTIAL reform had not been in contemplation. Will it be said +that the FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES of the Confederation were not +within the purview of the convention, and ought not to have been +varied? I ask, What are these principles? Do they require that, +in the establishment of the Constitution, the States should be +regarded as distinct and independent sovereigns? They are so +regarded by the Constitution proposed. Do they require that the +members of the government should derive their appointment from +the legislatures, not from the people of the States? One branch +of the new government is to be appointed by these legislatures; +and under the Confederation, the delegates to Congress MAY ALL +be appointed immediately by the people, and in two States1 are +actually so appointed. Do they require that the powers of the +government should act on the States, and not immediately on +individuals? In some instances, as has been shown, the powers of +the new government will act on the States in their collective +characters. In some instances, also, those of the existing +government act immediately on individuals. In cases of capture; +of piracy; of the post office; of coins, weights, and measures; +of trade with the Indians; of claims under grants of land by +different States; and, above all, in the case of trials by +courts-marshal in the army and navy, by which death may be +inflicted without the intervention of a jury, or even of a civil +magistrate; in all these cases the powers of the Confederation +operate immediately on the persons and interests of individual +citizens. Do these fundamental principles require, particularly, +that no tax should be levied without the intermediate agency of +the States? The Confederation itself authorizes a direct tax, to +a certain extent, on the post office. The power of coinage has +been so construed by Congress as to levy a tribute immediately +from that source also. But pretermitting these instances, was it +not an acknowledged object of the convention and the universal +expectation of the people, that the regulation of trade should be +submitted to the general government in such a form as would +render it an immediate source of general revenue? Had not +Congress repeatedly recommended this measure as not inconsistent +with the fundamental principles of the Confederation? Had not +every State but one; had not New York herself, so far complied +with the plan of Congress as to recognize the PRINCIPLE of the +innovation? Do these principles, in fine, require that the +powers of the general government should be limited, and that, +beyond this limit, the States should be left in possession of +their sovereignty and independence? We have seen that in the new +government, as in the old, the general powers are limited; and +that the States, in all unenumerated cases, are left in the +enjoyment of their sovereign and independent jurisdiction. The +truth is, that the great principles of the Constitution proposed +by the convention may be considered less as absolutely new, than +as the expansion of principles which are found in the articles of +Confederation. The misfortune under the latter system has been, +that these principles are so feeble and confined as to justify +all the charges of inefficiency which have been urged against it, +and to require a degree of enlargement which gives to the new +system the aspect of an entire transformation of the old. In one +particular it is admitted that the convention have departed from +the tenor of their commission. Instead of reporting a plan +requiring the confirmation OF THE LEGISLATURES OF ALL THE STATES, +they have reported a plan which is to be confirmed by the PEOPLE, +and may be carried into effect by NINE STATES ONLY. It is worthy +of remark that this objection, though the most plausible, has +been the least urged in the publications which have swarmed +against the convention. The forbearance can only have proceeded +from an irresistible conviction of the absurdity of subjecting +the fate of twelve States to the perverseness or corruption of a +thirteenth; from the example of inflexible opposition given by a +MAJORITY of one sixtieth of the people of America to a measure +approved and called for by the voice of twelve States, comprising +fifty-nine sixtieths of the people an example still fresh in the +memory and indignation of every citizen who has felt for the +wounded honor and prosperity of his country. As this objection, +therefore, has been in a manner waived by those who have +criticised the powers of the convention, I dismiss it without +further observation. The THIRD point to be inquired into is, how +far considerations of duty arising out of the case itself could +have supplied any defect of regular authority. In the preceding +inquiries the powers of the convention have been analyzed and +tried with the same rigor, and by the same rules, as if they had +been real and final powers for the establishment of a +Constitution for the United States. We have seen in what manner +they have borne the trial even on that supposition. It is time +now to recollect that the powers were merely advisory and +recommendatory; that they were so meant by the States, and so +understood by the convention; and that the latter have +accordingly planned and proposed a Constitution which is to be of +no more consequence than the paper on which it is written, unless +it be stamped with the approbation of those to whom it is +addressed. This reflection places the subject in a point of view +altogether different, and will enable us to judge with propriety +of the course taken by the convention. Let us view the ground on +which the convention stood. It may be collected from their +proceedings, that they were deeply and unanimously impressed with +the crisis, which had led their country almost with one voice to +make so singular and solemn an experiment for correcting the +errors of a system by which this crisis had been produced; that +they were no less deeply and unanimously convinced that such a +reform as they have proposed was absolutely necessary to effect +the purposes of their appointment. It could not be unknown to +them that the hopes and expectations of the great body of +citizens, throughout this great empire, were turned with the +keenest anxiety to the event of their deliberations. They had +every reason to believe that the contrary sentiments agitated the +minds and bosoms of every external and internal foe to the +liberty and prosperity of the United States. They had seen in the +origin and progress of the experiment, the alacrity with which +the PROPOSITION, made by a single State (Virginia), towards a +partial amendment of the Confederation, had been attended to and +promoted. They had seen the LIBERTY ASSUMED by a VERY FEW +deputies from a VERY FEW States, convened at Annapolis, of +recommending a great and critical object, wholly foreign to their +commission, not only justified by the public opinion, but +actually carried into effect by twelve out of the thirteen +States. They had seen, in a variety of instances, assumptions by +Congress, not only of recommendatory, but of operative, powers, +warranted, in the public estimation, by occasions and objects +infinitely less urgent than those by which their conduct was to +be governed. They must have reflected, that in all great changes +of established governments, forms ought to give way to substance; +that a rigid adherence in such cases to the former, would render +nominal and nugatory the transcendent and precious right of the +people to ``abolish or alter their governments as to them shall +seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness,''2 since +it is impossible for the people spontaneously and universally to +move in concert towards their object; and it is therefore +essential that such changes be instituted by some INFORMAL AND +UNAUTHORIZED PROPOSITIONS, made by some patriotic and respectable +citizen or number of citizens. They must have recollected that it +was by this irregular and assumed privilege of proposing to the +people plans for their safety and happiness, that the States +were first united against the danger with which they were +threatened by their ancient government; that committees and +congresses were formed for concentrating their efforts and +defending their rights; and that CONVENTIONS were ELECTED in THE +SEVERAL STATES for establishing the constitutions under which +they are now governed; nor could it have been forgotten that no +little ill-timed scruples, no zeal for adhering to ordinary +forms, were anywhere seen, except in those who wished to indulge, +under these masks, their secret enmity to the substance contended +for. They must have borne in mind, that as the plan to be framed +and proposed was to be submitted TO THE PEOPLE THEMSELVES, the +disapprobation of this supreme authority would destroy it +forever; its approbation blot out antecedent errors and +irregularities. It might even have occurred to them, that where a +disposition to cavil prevailed, their neglect to execute the +degree of power vested in them, and still more their +recommendation of any measure whatever, not warranted by their +commission, would not less excite animadversion, than a +recommendation at once of a measure fully commensurate to the +national exigencies. Had the convention, under all these +impressions, and in the midst of all these considerations, +instead of exercising a manly confidence in their country, by +whose confidence they had been so peculiarly distinguished, and +of pointing out a system capable, in their judgment, of securing +its happiness, taken the cold and sullen resolution of +disappointing its ardent hopes, of sacrificing substance to +forms, of committing the dearest interests of their country to +the uncertainties of delay and the hazard of events, let me ask +the man who can raise his mind to one elevated conception, who +can awaken in his bosom one patriotic emotion, what judgment +ought to have been pronounced by the impartial world, by the +friends of mankind, by every virtuous citizen, on the conduct and +character of this assembly? Or if there be a man whose +propensity to condemn is susceptible of no control, let me then +ask what sentence he has in reserve for the twelve States who +USURPED THE POWER of sending deputies to the convention, a body +utterly unknown to their constitutions; for Congress, who +recommended the appointment of this body, equally unknown to the +Confederation; and for the State of New York, in particular, +which first urged and then complied with this unauthorized +interposition? But that the objectors may be disarmed of every +pretext, it shall be granted for a moment that the convention +were neither authorized by their commission, nor justified by +circumstances in proposing a Constitution for their country: does +it follow that the Constitution ought, for that reason alone, to +be rejected? If, according to the noble precept, it be lawful to +accept good advice even from an enemy, shall we set the ignoble +example of refusing such advice even when it is offered by our +friends? The prudent inquiry, in all cases, ought surely to be, +not so much FROM WHOM the advice comes, as whether the advice be +GOOD. The sum of what has been here advanced and proved is, that +the charge against the convention of exceeding their powers, +except in one instance little urged by the objectors, has no +foundation to support it; that if they had exceeded their powers, +they were not only warranted, but required, as the confidential +servants of their country, by the circumstances in which they +were placed, to exercise the liberty which they assume; and that +finally, if they had violated both their powers and their +obligations, in proposing a Constitution, this ought nevertheless +to be embraced, if it be calculated to accomplish the views and +happiness of the people of America. How far this character is due +to the Constitution, is the subject under investigation. PUBLIUS. + +Connecticut and Rhode Island. Declaration of Independence. + + +FEDERALIST No. 41 +General View of the Powers Conferred by The Constitution +For the Independent Journal. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE Constitution proposed by the convention may be considered +under two general points of view. The FIRST relates to the sum or +quantity of power which it vests in the government, including +the restraints imposed on the States. The SECOND, to the +particular structure of the government, and the distribution of +this power among its several branches. Under the FIRST view of +the subject, two important questions arise: 1. Whether any part +of the powers transferred to the general government be +unnecessary or improper? 2. Whether the entire mass of them be +dangerous to the portion of jurisdiction left in the several +States? Is the aggregate power of the general government greater +than ought to have been vested in it? This is the FIRST +question. It cannot have escaped those who have attended with +candor to the arguments employed against the extensive powers of +the government, that the authors of them have very little +considered how far these powers were necessary means of attaining +a necessary end. They have chosen rather to dwell on the +inconveniences which must be unavoidably blended with all +political advantages; and on the possible abuses which must be +incident to every power or trust, of which a beneficial use can +be made. This method of handling the subject cannot impose on the +good sense of the people of America. It may display the subtlety +of the writer; it may open a boundless field for rhetoric and +declamation; it may inflame the passions of the unthinking, and +may confirm the prejudices of the misthinking: but cool and +candid people will at once reflect, that the purest of human +blessings must have a portion of alloy in them; that the choice +must always be made, if not of the lesser evil, at least of the +GREATER, not the PERFECT, good; and that in every political +institution, a power to advance the public happiness involves a +discretion which may be misapplied and abused. They will see, +therefore, that in all cases where power is to be conferred, the +point first to be decided is, whether such a power be necessary +to the public good; as the next will be, in case of an +affirmative decision, to guard as effectually as possible +against a perversion of the power to the public detriment. That +we may form a correct judgment on this subject, it will be proper +to review the several powers conferred on the government of the +Union; and that this may be the more conveniently done they may +be reduced into different classes as they relate to the following +different objects: 1. Security against foreign danger; 2. +Regulation of the intercourse with foreign nations; 3. +Maintenance of harmony and proper intercourse among the States; +4. Certain miscellaneous objects of general utility; 5. +Restraint of the States from certain injurious acts; 6. +Provisions for giving due efficacy to all these powers. The +powers falling within the FIRST class are those of declaring war +and granting letters of marque; of providing armies and fleets; +of regulating and calling forth the militia; of levying and +borrowing money. Security against foreign danger is one of the +primitive objects of civil society. It is an avowed and essential +object of the American Union. The powers requisite for attaining +it must be effectually confided to the federal councils. Is the +power of declaring war necessary? No man will answer this +question in the negative. It would be superfluous, therefore, to +enter into a proof of the affirmative. The existing Confederation +establishes this power in the most ample form. Is the power of +raising armies and equipping fleets necessary? This is involved +in the foregoing power. It is involved in the power of +self-defense. But was it necessary to give an INDEFINITE POWER +of raising TROOPS, as well as providing fleets; and of +maintaining both in PEACE, as well as in war? The answer to these +questions has been too far anticipated in another place to admit +an extensive discussion of them in this place. The answer indeed +seems to be so obvious and conclusive as scarcely to justify such +a discussion in any place. With what color of propriety could the +force necessary for defense be limited by those who cannot limit +the force of offense? If a federal Constitution could chain the +ambition or set bounds to the exertions of all other nations, +then indeed might it prudently chain the discretion of its own +government, and set bounds to the exertions for its own safety. +How could a readiness for war in time of peace be safely +prohibited, unless we could prohibit, in like manner, the +preparations and establishments of every hostile nation? The +means of security can only be regulated by the means and the +danger of attack. They will, in fact, be ever determined by these +rules, and by no others. It is in vain to oppose constitutional +barriers to the impulse of self-preservation. It is worse than in +vain; because it plants in the Constitution itself necessary +usurpations of power, every precedent of which is a germ of +unnecessary and multiplied repetitions. If one nation maintains +constantly a disciplined army, ready for the service of ambition +or revenge, it obliges the most pacific nations who may be within +the reach of its enterprises to take corresponding precautions. +The fifteenth century was the unhappy epoch of military +establishments in the time of peace. They were introduced by +Charles VII. of France. All Europe has followed, or been forced +into, the example. Had the example not been followed by other +nations, all Europe must long ago have worn the chains of a +universal monarch. Were every nation except France now to disband +its peace establishments, the same event might follow. The +veteran legions of Rome were an overmatch for the undisciplined +valor of all other nations and rendered her the mistress of the +world. Not the less true is it, that the liberties of Rome +proved the final victim to her military triumphs; and that the +liberties of Europe, as far as they ever existed, have, with few +exceptions, been the price of her military establishments. A +standing force, therefore, is a dangerous, at the same time that +it may be a necessary, provision. On the smallest scale it has +its inconveniences. On an extensive scale its consequences may be +fatal. On any scale it is an object of laudable circumspection +and precaution. A wise nation will combine all these +considerations; and, whilst it does not rashly preclude itself +from any resource which may become essential to its safety, will +exert all its prudence in diminishing both the necessity and the +danger of resorting to one which may be inauspicious to its +liberties. The clearest marks of this prudence are stamped on +the proposed Constitution. The Union itself, which it cements and +secures, destroys every pretext for a military establishment +which could be dangerous. America united, with a handful of +troops, or without a single soldier, exhibits a more forbidding +posture to foreign ambition than America disunited, with a +hundred thousand veterans ready for combat. It was remarked, on a +former occasion, that the want of this pretext had saved the +liberties of one nation in Europe. Being rendered by her insular +situation and her maritime resources impregnable to the armies of +her neighbors, the rulers of Great Britain have never been able, +by real or artificial dangers, to cheat the public into an +extensive peace establishment. The distance of the United States +from the powerful nations of the world gives them the same happy +security. A dangerous establishment can never be necessary or +plausible, so long as they continue a united people. But let it +never, for a moment, be forgotten that they are indebted for this +advantage to the Union alone. The moment of its dissolution will +be the date of a new order of things. The fears of the weaker, or +the ambition of the stronger States, or Confederacies, will set +the same example in the New, as Charles VII. did in the Old +World. The example will be followed here from the same motives +which produced universal imitation there. Instead of deriving +from our situation the precious advantage which Great Britain has +derived from hers, the face of America will be but a copy of that +of the continent of Europe. It will present liberty everywhere +crushed between standing armies and perpetual taxes. The fortunes +of disunited America will be even more disastrous than those of +Europe. The sources of evil in the latter are confined to her own +limits. No superior powers of another quarter of the globe +intrigue among her rival nations, inflame their mutual +animosities, and render them the instruments of foreign ambition, +jealousy, and revenge. In America the miseries springing from her +internal jealousies, contentions, and wars, would form a part +only of her lot. A plentiful addition of evils would have their +source in that relation in which Europe stands to this quarter of +the earth, and which no other quarter of the earth bears to +Europe. This picture of the consequences of disunion cannot be +too highly colored, or too often exhibited. Every man who loves +peace, every man who loves his country, every man who loves +liberty, ought to have it ever before his eyes, that he may +cherish in his heart a due attachment to the Union of America, +and be able to set a due value on the means of preserving it. +Next to the effectual establishment of the Union, the best +possible precaution against danger from standing armies is a +limitation of the term for which revenue may be appropriated to +their support. This precaution the Constitution has prudently +added. I will not repeat here the observations which I flatter +myself have placed this subject in a just and satisfactory +light. But it may not be improper to take notice of an argument +against this part of the Constitution, which has been drawn from +the policy and practice of Great Britain. It is said that the +continuance of an army in that kingdom requires an annual vote of +the legislature; whereas the American Constitution has lengthened +this critical period to two years. This is the form in which the +comparison is usually stated to the public: but is it a just +form? Is it a fair comparison? Does the British Constitution +restrain the parliamentary discretion to one year? Does the +American impose on the Congress appropriations for two years? On +the contrary, it cannot be unknown to the authors of the fallacy +themselves, that the British Constitution fixes no limit whatever +to the discretion of the legislature, and that the American ties +down the legislature to two years, as the longest admissible +term. Had the argument from the British example been truly +stated, it would have stood thus: The term for which supplies +may be appropriated to the army establishment, though unlimited +by the British Constitution, has nevertheless, in practice, been +limited by parliamentary discretion to a single year. Now, if in +Great Britain, where the House of Commons is elected for seven +years; where so great a proportion of the members are elected by +so small a proportion of the people; where the electors are so +corrupted by the representatives, and the representatives so +corrupted by the Crown, the representative body can possess a +power to make appropriations to the army for an indefinite term, +without desiring, or without daring, to extend the term beyond a +single year, ought not suspicion herself to blush, in pretending +that the representatives of the United States, elected FREELY by +the WHOLE BODY of the people, every SECOND YEAR, cannot be safely +intrusted with the discretion over such appropriations, expressly +limited to the short period of TWO YEARS? A bad cause seldom +fails to betray itself. Of this truth, the management of the +opposition to the federal government is an unvaried +exemplification. But among all the blunders which have been +committed, none is more striking than the attempt to enlist on +that side the prudent jealousy entertained by the people, of +standing armies. The attempt has awakened fully the public +attention to that important subject; and has led to +investigations which must terminate in a thorough and universal +conviction, not only that the constitution has provided the most +effectual guards against danger from that quarter, but that +nothing short of a Constitution fully adequate to the national +defense and the preservation of the Union, can save America from +as many standing armies as it may be split into States or +Confederacies, and from such a progressive augmentation, of these +establishments in each, as will render them as burdensome to the +properties and ominous to the liberties of the people, as any +establishment that can become necessary, under a united and +efficient government, must be tolerable to the former and safe to +the latter. The palpable necessity of the power to provide and +maintain a navy has protected that part of the Constitution +against a spirit of censure, which has spared few other parts. It +must, indeed, be numbered among the greatest blessings of +America, that as her Union will be the only source of her +maritime strength, so this will be a principal source of her +security against danger from abroad. In this respect our +situation bears another likeness to the insular advantage of +Great Britain. The batteries most capable of repelling foreign +enterprises on our safety, are happily such as can never be +turned by a perfidious government against our liberties. The +inhabitants of the Atlantic frontier are all of them deeply +interested in this provision for naval protection, and if they +have hitherto been suffered to sleep quietly in their beds; if +their property has remained safe against the predatory spirit of +licentious adventurers; if their maritime towns have not yet +been compelled to ransom themselves from the terrors of a +conflagration, by yielding to the exactions of daring and sudden +invaders, these instances of good fortune are not to be ascribed +to the capacity of the existing government for the protection of +those from whom it claims allegiance, but to causes that are +fugitive and fallacious. If we except perhaps Virginia and +Maryland, which are peculiarly vulnerable on their eastern +frontiers, no part of the Union ought to feel more anxiety on +this subject than New York. Her seacoast is extensive. A very +important district of the State is an island. The State itself is +penetrated by a large navigable river for more than fifty +leagues. The great emporium of its commerce, the great reservoir +of its wealth, lies every moment at the mercy of events, and may +almost be regarded as a hostage for ignominious compliances with +the dictates of a foreign enemy, or even with the rapacious +demands of pirates and barbarians. Should a war be the result of +the precarious situation of European affairs, and all the unruly +passions attending it be let loose on the ocean, our escape from +insults and depredations, not only on that element, but every +part of the other bordering on it, will be truly miraculous. In +the present condition of America, the States more immediately +exposed to these calamities have nothing to hope from the phantom +of a general government which now exists; and if their single +resources were equal to the task of fortifying themselves against +the danger, the object to be protected would be almost consumed +by the means of protecting them. The power of regulating and +calling forth the militia has been already sufficiently +vindicated and explained. The power of levying and borrowing +money, being the sinew of that which is to be exerted in the +national defense, is properly thrown into the same class with +it. This power, also, has been examined already with much +attention, and has, I trust, been clearly shown to be necessary, +both in the extent and form given to it by the Constitution. I +will address one additional reflection only to those who contend +that the power ought to have been restrained to external +taxation by which they mean, taxes on articles imported from +other countries. It cannot be doubted that this will always be a +valuable source of revenue; that for a considerable time it must +be a principal source; that at this moment it is an essential +one. But we may form very mistaken ideas on this subject, if we +do not call to mind in our calculations, that the extent of +revenue drawn from foreign commerce must vary with the +variations, both in the extent and the kind of imports; and that +these variations do not correspond with the progress of +population, which must be the general measure of the public +wants. As long as agriculture continues the sole field of labor, +the importation of manufactures must increase as the consumers +multiply. As soon as domestic manufactures are begun by the hands +not called for by agriculture, the imported manufactures will +decrease as the numbers of people increase. In a more remote +stage, the imports may consist in a considerable part of raw +materials, which will be wrought into articles for exportation, +and will, therefore, require rather the encouragement of +bounties, than to be loaded with discouraging duties. A system of +government, meant for duration, ought to contemplate these +revolutions, and be able to accommodate itself to them. Some, +who have not denied the necessity of the power of taxation, have +grounded a very fierce attack against the Constitution, on the +language in which it is defined. It has been urged and echoed, +that the power ``to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts, and +excises, to pay the debts, and provide for the common defense and +general welfare of the United States,'' amounts to an unlimited +commission to exercise every power which may be alleged to be +necessary for the common defense or general welfare. No stronger +proof could be given of the distress under which these writers +labor for objections, than their stooping to such a +misconstruction. Had no other enumeration or definition of the +powers of the Congress been found in the Constitution, than the +general expressions just cited, the authors of the objection +might have had some color for it; though it would have been +difficult to find a reason for so awkward a form of describing an +authority to legislate in all possible cases. A power to destroy +the freedom of the press, the trial by jury, or even to regulate +the course of descents, or the forms of conveyances, must be very +singularly expressed by the terms ``to raise money for the +general welfare. ''But what color can the objection have, when a +specification of the objects alluded to by these general terms +immediately follows, and is not even separated by a longer pause +than a semicolon? If the different parts of the same instrument +ought to be so expounded, as to give meaning to every part which +will bear it, shall one part of the same sentence be excluded +altogether from a share in the meaning; and shall the more +doubtful and indefinite terms be retained in their full extent, +and the clear and precise expressions be denied any signification +whatsoever? For what purpose could the enumeration of particular +powers be inserted, if these and all others were meant to be +included in the preceding general power? Nothing is more natural +nor common than first to use a general phrase, and then to +explain and qualify it by a recital of particulars. But the idea +of an enumeration of particulars which neither explain nor +qualify the general meaning, and can have no other effect than to +confound and mislead, is an absurdity, which, as we are reduced +to the dilemma of charging either on the authors of the objection +or on the authors of the Constitution, we must take the liberty +of supposing, had not its origin with the latter. The objection +here is the more extraordinary, as it appears that the language +used by the convention is a copy from the articles of +Confederation. The objects of the Union among the States, as +described in article third, are ``their common defense, security +of their liberties, and mutual and general welfare. '' The terms +of article eighth are still more identical: ``All charges of war +and all other expenses that shall be incurred for the common +defense or general welfare, and allowed by the United States in +Congress, shall be defrayed out of a common treasury,'' etc. A +similar language again occurs in article ninth. Construe either +of these articles by the rules which would justify the +construction put on the new Constitution, and they vest in the +existing Congress a power to legislate in all cases whatsoever. +But what would have been thought of that assembly, if, attaching +themselves to these general expressions, and disregarding the +specifications which ascertain and limit their import, they had +exercised an unlimited power of providing for the common defense +and general welfare? I appeal to the objectors themselves, +whether they would in that case have employed the same reasoning +in justification of Congress as they now make use of against the +convention. How difficult it is for error to escape its own +condemnation! PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 42 +The Powers Conferred by the Constitution Further Considered +From the New York Packet. Tuesday, January 22, 1788. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE SECOND class of powers, lodged in the general government, +consists of those which regulate the intercourse with foreign +nations, to wit: to make treaties; to send and receive +ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls; to define and +punish piracies and felonies committed on the high seas, and +offenses against the law of nations; to regulate foreign +commerce, including a power to prohibit, after the year 1808, the +importation of slaves, and to lay an intermediate duty of ten +dollars per head, as a discouragement to such importations. This +class of powers forms an obvious and essential branch of the +federal administration. If we are to be one nation in any +respect, it clearly ought to be in respect to other nations. The +powers to make treaties and to send and receive ambassadors, +speak their own propriety. Both of them are comprised in the +articles of Confederation, with this difference only, that the +former is disembarrassed, by the plan of the convention, of an +exception, under which treaties might be substantially frustrated +by regulations of the States; and that a power of appointing and +receiving ``other public ministers and consuls,'' is expressly +and very properly added to the former provision concerning +ambassadors. The term ambassador, if taken strictly, as seems to +be required by the second of the articles of Confederation, +comprehends the highest grade only of public ministers, and +excludes the grades which the United States will be most likely +to prefer, where foreign embassies may be necessary. And under no +latitude of construction will the term comprehend consuls. Yet it +has been found expedient, and has been the practice of Congress, +to employ the inferior grades of public ministers, and to send +and receive consuls. It is true, that where treaties of commerce +stipulate for the mutual appointment of consuls, whose functions +are connected with commerce, the admission of foreign consuls may +fall within the power of making commercial treaties; and that +where no such treaties exist, the mission of American consuls +into foreign countries may PERHAPS be covered under the +authority, given by the ninth article of the Confederation, to +appoint all such civil officers as may be necessary for managing +the general affairs of the United States. But the admission of +consuls into the United States, where no previous treaty has +stipulated it, seems to have been nowhere provided for. A supply +of the omission is one of the lesser instances in which the +convention have improved on the model before them. But the most +minute provisions become important when they tend to obviate the +necessity or the pretext for gradual and unobserved usurpations +of power. A list of the cases in which Congress have been +betrayed, or forced by the defects of the Confederation, into +violations of their chartered authorities, would not a little +surprise those who have paid no attention to the subject; and +would be no inconsiderable argument in favor of the new +Constitution, which seems to have provided no less studiously for +the lesser, than the more obvious and striking defects of the +old. The power to define and punish piracies and felonies +committed on the high seas, and offenses against the law of +nations, belongs with equal propriety to the general government, +and is a still greater improvement on the articles of +Confederation. These articles contain no provision for the case +of offenses against the law of nations; and consequently leave +it in the power of any indiscreet member to embroil the +Confederacy with foreign nations. The provision of the federal +articles on the subject of piracies and felonies extends no +further than to the establishment of courts for the trial of +these offenses. The definition of piracies might, perhaps, +without inconveniency, be left to the law of nations; though a +legislative definition of them is found in most municipal codes. +A definition of felonies on the high seas is evidently +requisite. Felony is a term of loose signification, even in the +common law of England; and of various import in the statute law +of that kingdom. But neither the common nor the statute law of +that, or of any other nation, ought to be a standard for the +proceedings of this, unless previously made its own by +legislative adoption. The meaning of the term, as defined in the +codes of the several States, would be as impracticable as the +former would be a dishonorable and illegitimate guide. It is not +precisely the same in any two of the States; and varies in each +with every revision of its criminal laws. For the sake of +certainty and uniformity, therefore, the power of defining +felonies in this case was in every respect necessary and proper. +The regulation of foreign commerce, having fallen within several +views which have been taken of this subject, has been too fully +discussed to need additional proofs here of its being properly +submitted to the federal administration. It were doubtless to be +wished, that the power of prohibiting the importation of slaves +had not been postponed until the year 1808, or rather that it had +been suffered to have immediate operation. But it is not +difficult to account, either for this restriction on the general +government, or for the manner in which the whole clause is +expressed. It ought to be considered as a great point gained in +favor of humanity, that a period of twenty years may terminate +forever, within these States, a traffic which has so long and so +loudly upbraided the barbarism of modern policy; that within that +period, it will receive a considerable discouragement from the +federal government, and may be totally abolished, by a +concurrence of the few States which continue the unnatural +traffic, in the prohibitory example which has been given by so +great a majority of the Union. Happy would it be for the +unfortunate Africans, if an equal prospect lay before them of +being redeemed from the oppressions of their European brethren! +Attempts have been made to pervert this clause into an objection +against the Constitution, by representing it on one side as a +criminal toleration of an illicit practice, and on another as +calculated to prevent voluntary and beneficial emigrations from +Europe to America. I mention these misconstructions, not with a +view to give them an answer, for they deserve none, but as +specimens of the manner and spirit in which some have thought fit +to conduct their opposition to the proposed government. The +powers included in the THIRD class are those which provide for +the harmony and proper intercourse among the States. Under this +head might be included the particular restraints imposed on the +authority of the States, and certain powers of the judicial +department; but the former are reserved for a distinct class, and +the latter will be particularly examined when we arrive at the +structure and organization of the government. I shall confine +myself to a cursory review of the remaining powers comprehended +under this third description, to wit: to regulate commerce among +the several States and the Indian tribes; to coin money, regulate +the value thereof, and of foreign coin; to provide for the +punishment of counterfeiting the current coin and secureties of +the United States; to fix the standard of weights and measures; +to establish a uniform rule of naturalization, and uniform laws +of bankruptcy, to prescribe the manner in which the public acts, +records, and judicial proceedings of each State shall be proved, +and the effect they shall have in other States; and to establish +post offices and post roads. The defect of power in the existing +Confederacy to regulate the commerce between its several members, +is in the number of those which have been clearly pointed out by +experience. To the proofs and remarks which former papers have +brought into view on this subject, it may be added that without +this supplemental provision, the great and essential power of +regulating foreign commerce would have been incomplete and +ineffectual. A very material object of this power was the relief +of the States which import and export through other States, from +the improper contributions levied on them by the latter. Were +these at liberty to regulate the trade between State and State, +it must be foreseen that ways would be found out to load the +articles of import and export, during the passage through their +jurisdiction, with duties which would fall on the makers of the +latter and the consumers of the former. We may be assured by past +experience, that such a practice would be introduced by future +contrivances; and both by that and a common knowledge of human +affairs, that it would nourish unceasing animosities, and not +improbably terminate in serious interruptions of the public +tranquillity. To those who do not view the question through the +medium of passion or of interest, the desire of the commercial +States to collect, in any form, an indirect revenue from their +uncommercial neighbors, must appear not less impolitic than it is +unfair; since it would stimulate the injured party, by resentment +as well as interest, to resort to less convenient channels for +their foreign trade. But the mild voice of reason, pleading the +cause of an enlarged and permanent interest, is but too often +drowned, before public bodies as well as individuals, by the +clamors of an impatient avidity for immediate and immoderate +gain. The necessity of a superintending authority over the +reciprocal trade of confederated States, has been illustrated by +other examples as well as our own. In Switzerland, where the +Union is so very slight, each canton is obliged to allow to +merchandises a passage through its jurisdiction into other +cantons, without an augmentation of the tolls. In Germany it is a +law of the empire, that the princes and states shall not lay +tolls or customs on bridges, rivers, or passages, without the +consent of the emperor and the diet; though it appears from a +quotation in an antecedent paper, that the practice in this, as +in many other instances in that confederacy, has not followed the +law, and has produced there the mischiefs which have been +foreseen here. Among the restraints imposed by the Union of the +Netherlands on its members, one is, that they shall not establish +imposts disadvantageous to their neighbors, without the general +permission. The regulation of commerce with the Indian tribes is +very properly unfettered from two limitations in the articles of +Confederation, which render the provision obscure and +contradictory. The power is there restrained to Indians, not +members of any of the States, and is not to violate or infringe +the legislative right of any State within its own limits. What +description of Indians are to be deemed members of a State, is +not yet settled, and has been a question of frequent perplexity +and contention in the federal councils. And how the trade with +Indians, though not members of a State, yet residing within its +legislative jurisdiction, can be regulated by an external +authority, without so far intruding on the internal rights of +legislation, is absolutely incomprehensible. This is not the only +case in which the articles of Confederation have inconsiderately +endeavored to accomplish impossibilities; to reconcile a partial +sovereignty in the Union, with complete sovereignty in the +States; to subvert a mathematical axiom, by taking away a part, +and letting the whole remain. All that need be remarked on the +power to coin money, regulate the value thereof, and of foreign +coin, is, that by providing for this last case, the Constitution +has supplied a material omission in the articles of +Confederation. The authority of the existing Congress is +restrained to the regulation of coin STRUCK by their own +authority, or that of the respective States. It must be seen at +once that the proposed uniformity in the VALUE of the current +coin might be destroyed by subjecting that of foreign coin to the +different regulations of the different States. The punishment of +counterfeiting the public securities, as well as the current +coin, is submitted of course to that authority which is to secure +the value of both. The regulation of weights and measures is +transferred from the articles of Confederation, and is founded on +like considerations with the preceding power of regulating coin. +The dissimilarity in the rules of naturalization has long been +remarked as a fault in our system, and as laying a foundation for +intricate and delicate questions. In the fourth article of the +Confederation, it is declared ``that the FREE INHABITANTS of each +of these States, paupers, vagabonds, and fugitives from justice, +excepted, shall be entitled to all privileges and immunities of +FREE CITIZENS in the several States; and THE PEOPLE of each State +shall, in every other, enjoy all the privileges of trade and +commerce,'' etc. There is a confusion of language here, which is +remarkable. Why the terms FREE INHABITANTS are used in one part +of the article, FREE CITIZENS in another, and PEOPLE in another; +or what was meant by superadding to ``all privileges and +immunities of free citizens,'' ``all the privileges of trade and +commerce,'' +cannot easily be determined. It seems to be a construction +scarcely avoidable, however, that those who come under the +denomination of FREE INHABITANTS of a State, although not +citizens of such State, are entitled, in every other State, to +all the privileges of FREE CITIZENS of the latter; that is, to +greater privileges than they may be entitled to in their own +State: so that it may be in the power of a particular State, or +rather every State is laid under a necessity, not only to confer +the rights of citizenship in other States upon any whom it may +admit to such rights within itself, but upon any whom it may +allow to become inhabitants within its jurisdiction. But were an +exposition of the term ``inhabitants'' to be admitted which +would confine the stipulated privileges to citizens alone, the +difficulty is diminished only, not removed. The very improper +power would still be retained by each State, of naturalizing +aliens in every other State. In one State, residence for a short +term confirms all the rights of citizenship: in another, +qualifications of greater importance are required. An alien, +therefore, legally incapacitated for certain rights in the +latter, may, by previous residence only in the former, elude his +incapacity; and thus the law of one State be preposterously +rendered paramount to the law of another, within the jurisdiction +of the other. We owe it to mere casualty, that very serious +embarrassments on this subject have been hitherto escaped. By the +laws of several States, certain descriptions of aliens, who had +rendered themselves obnoxious, were laid under interdicts +inconsistent not only with the rights of citizenship but with the +privilege of residence. What would have been the consequence, if +such persons, by residence or otherwise, had acquired the +character of citizens under the laws of another State, and then +asserted their rights as such, both to residence and citizenship, +within the State proscribing them? Whatever the legal +consequences might have been, other consequences would probably +have resulted, of too serious a nature not to be provided +against. The new Constitution has accordingly, with great +propriety, made provision against them, and all others proceeding +from the defect of the Confederation on this head, by authorizing +the general government to establish a uniform rule of +naturalization throughout the United States. The power of +establishing uniform laws of bankruptcy is so intimately +connected with the regulation of commerce, and will prevent so +many frauds where the parties or their property may lie or be +removed into different States, that the expediency of it seems +not likely to be drawn into question. The power of prescribing +by general laws, the manner in which the public acts, records and +judicial proceedings of each State shall be proved, and the +effect they shall have in other States, is an evident and +valuable improvement on the clause relating to this subject in +the articles of Confederation. The meaning of the latter is +extremely indeterminate, and can be of little importance under +any interpretation which it will bear. The power here established +may be rendered a very convenient instrument of justice, and be +particularly beneficial on the borders of contiguous States, +where the effects liable to justice may be suddenly and secretly +translated, in any stage of the process, within a foreign +jurisdiction. The power of establishing post roads must, in +every view, be a harmless power, and may, perhaps, by judicious +management, become productive of great public conveniency. +Nothing which tends to facilitate the intercourse between the +States can be deemed unworthy of the public care. PUBLIUS. + +FEDERALIST No. 43 +The Same Subject Continued (The Powers Conferred by the +Constitution Further Considered) +For the Independent Journal. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE FOURTH class comprises the following miscellaneous powers:1. +A power ``to promote the progress of science and useful arts, by +securing, for a limited time, to authors and inventors, the +exclusive right to their respective writings and discoveries. +''The utility of this power will scarcely be questioned. The +copyright of authors has been solemnly adjudged, in Great +Britain, to be a right of common law. The right to useful +inventions seems with equal reason to belong to the inventors. +The public good fully coincides in both cases with the claims of +individuals. The States cannot separately make effectual +provisions for either of the cases, and most of them have +anticipated the decision of this point, by laws passed at the +instance of Congress. 2. ``To exercise exclusive legislation, in +all cases whatsoever, over such district (not exceeding ten miles +square) as may, by cession of particular States and the +acceptance of Congress, become the seat of the government of the +United States; and to exercise like authority over all places +purchased by the consent of the legislatures of the States in +which the same shall be, for the erection of forts, magazines, +arsenals, dockyards, and other needful buildings. ''The +indispensable necessity of complete authority at the seat of +government, carries its own evidence with it. It is a power +exercised by every legislature of the Union, I might say of the +world, by virtue of its general supremacy. Without it, not only +the public authority might be insulted and its proceedings +interrupted with impunity; but a dependence of the members of the +general government on the State comprehending the seat of the +government, for protection in the exercise of their duty, might +bring on the national councils an imputation of awe or influence, +equally dishonorable to the government and dissatisfactory to the +other members of the Confederacy. This consideration has the more +weight, as the gradual accumulation of public improvements at the +stationary residence of the government would be both too great a +public pledge to be left in the hands of a single State, and +would create so many obstacles to a removal of the government, as +still further to abridge its necessary independence. The extent +of this federal district is sufficiently circumscribed to satisfy +every jealousy of an opposite nature. And as it is to be +appropriated to this use with the consent of the State ceding it; +as the State will no doubt provide in the compact for the rights +and the consent of the citizens inhabiting it; as the inhabitants +will find sufficient inducements of interest to become willing +parties to the cession; as they will have had their voice in the +election of the government which is to exercise authority over +them; as a municipal legislature for local purposes, derived from +their own suffrages, will of course be allowed them; and as the +authority of the legislature of the State, and of the inhabitants +of the ceded part of it, to concur in the cession, will be +derived from the whole people of the State in their adoption of +the Constitution, every imaginable objection seems to be +obviated. The necessity of a like authority over forts, +magazines, etc., established by the general government, is not +less evident. The public money expended on such places, and the +public property deposited in them, requires that they should be +exempt from the authority of the particular State. Nor would it +be proper for the places on which the security of the entire +Union may depend, to be in any degree dependent on a particular +member of it. All objections and scruples are here also obviated, +by requiring the concurrence of the States concerned, in every +such establishment. 3. ``To declare the punishment of treason, +but no attainder of treason shall work corruption of blood, or +forfeiture, except during the life of the person attained. ''As +treason may be committed against the United States, the authority +of the United States ought to be enabled to punish it. But as +new-fangled and artificial treasons have been the great engines +by which violent factions, the natural offspring of free +government, have usually wreaked their alternate malignity on +each other, the convention have, with great judgment, opposed a +barrier to this peculiar danger, by inserting a constitutional +definition of the crime, fixing the proof necessary for +conviction of it, and restraining the Congress, even in punishing +it, from extending the consequences of guilt beyond the person of +its author. 4. ``To admit new States into the Union; but no new +State shall be formed or erected within the jurisdiction of any +other State; nor any State be formed by the junction of two or +more States, or parts of States, without the consent of the +legislatures of the States concerned, as well as of the Congress. +''In the articles of Confederation, no provision is found on this +important subject. Canada was to be admitted of right, on her +joining in the measures of the United States; and the other +COLONIES, by which were evidently meant the other British +colonies, at the discretion of nine States. The eventual +establishment of NEW STATES seems to have been overlooked by the +compilers of that instrument. We have seen the inconvenience of +this omission, and the assumption of power into which Congress +have been led by it. With great propriety, therefore, has the new +system supplied the defect. The general precaution, that no new +States shall be formed, without the concurrence of the federal +authority, and that of the States concerned, is consonant to the +principles which ought to govern such transactions. The +particular precaution against the erection of new States, by the +partition of a State without its consent, quiets the jealousy of +the larger States; as that of the smaller is quieted by a like +precaution, against a junction of States without their consent. +5. ``To dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations +respecting the territory or other property belonging to the +United States, with a proviso, that nothing in the Constitution +shall be so construed as to prejudice any claims of the United +States, or of any particular State. ''This is a power of very +great importance, and required by considerations similar to those +which show the propriety of the former. The proviso annexed is +proper in itself, and was probably rendered absolutely necessary +by jealousies and questions concerning the Western territory +sufficiently known to the public. 6. ``To guarantee to every +State in the Union a republican form of government; to protect +each of them against invasion; and on application of the +legislature, or of the executive (when the legislature cannot be +convened), against domestic violence. ''In a confederacy founded +on republican principles, and composed of republican members, the +superintending government ought clearly to possess authority to +defend the system against aristocratic or monarchial +innovations. The more intimate the nature of such a union may be, +the greater interest have the members in the political +institutions of each other; and the greater right to insist that +the forms of government under which the compact was entered into +should be SUBSTANTIALLY maintained. But a right implies a remedy; +and where else could the remedy be deposited, than where it is +deposited by the Constitution? Governments of dissimilar +principles and forms have been found less adapted to a federal +coalition of any sort, than those of a kindred nature. ``As the +confederate republic of Germany,'' says Montesquieu, ``consists +of free cities and petty states, subject to different princes, +experience shows us that it is more imperfect than that of +Holland and Switzerland. '' ``Greece was undone,'' he adds, ``as +soon as the king of Macedon obtained a seat among the +Amphictyons. '' In the latter case, no doubt, the +disproportionate force, as well as the monarchical form, of the +new confederate, had its share of influence on the events. It may +possibly be asked, what need there could be of such a +precaution, and whether it may not become a pretext for +alterations in the State governments, without the concurrence of +the States themselves. These questions admit of ready answers. If +the interposition of the general government should not be +needed, the provision for such an event will be a harmless +superfluity only in the Constitution. But who can say what +experiments may be produced by the caprice of particular States, +by the ambition of enterprising leaders, or by the intrigues and +influence of foreign powers? To the second question it may be +answered, that if the general government should interpose by +virtue of this constitutional authority, it will be, of course, +bound to pursue the authority. But the authority extends no +further than to a GUARANTY of a republican form of government, +which supposes a pre-existing government of the form which is to +be guaranteed. As long, therefore, as the existing republican +forms are continued by the States, they are guaranteed by the +federal Constitution. Whenever the States may choose to +substitute other republican forms, they have a right to do so, +and to claim the federal guaranty for the latter. The only +restriction imposed on them is, that they shall not exchange +republican for antirepublican Constitutions; a restriction +which, it is presumed, will hardly be considered as a grievance. +A protection against invasion is due from every society to the +parts composing it. The latitude of the expression here used +seems to secure each State, not only against foreign hostility, +but against ambitious or vindictive enterprises of its more +powerful neighbors. The history, both of ancient and modern +confederacies, proves that the weaker members of the union ought +not to be insensible to the policy of this article. Protection +against domestic violence is added with equal propriety. It has +been remarked, that even among the Swiss cantons, which, properly +speaking, are not under one government, provision is made for +this object; and the history of that league informs us that +mutual aid is frequently claimed and afforded; and as well by +the most democratic, as the other cantons. A recent and +well-known event among ourselves has warned us to be prepared for +emergencies of a like nature. At first view, it might seem not +to square with the republican theory, to suppose, either that a +majority have not the right, or that a minority will have the +force, to subvert a government; and consequently, that the +federal interposition can never be required, but when it would be +improper. But theoretic reasoning, in this as in most other +cases, must be qualified by the lessons of practice. Why may not +illicit combinations, for purposes of violence, be formed as +well by a majority of a State, especially a small State as by a +majority of a county, or a district of the same State; and if +the authority of the State ought, in the latter case, to protect +the local magistracy, ought not the federal authority, in the +former, to support the State authority? Besides, there are +certain parts of the State constitutions which are so interwoven +with the federal Constitution, that a violent blow cannot be +given to the one without communicating the wound to the other. +Insurrections in a State will rarely induce a federal +interposition, unless the number concerned in them bear some +proportion to the friends of government. It will be much better +that the violence in such cases should be repressed by the +superintending power, than that the majority should be left to +maintain their cause by a bloody and obstinate contest. The +existence of a right to interpose, will generally prevent the +necessity of exerting it. Is it true that force and right are +necessarily on the same side in republican governments? May not +the minor party possess such a superiority of pecuniary +resources, of military talents and experience, or of secret +succors from foreign powers, as will render it superior also in +an appeal to the sword? May not a more compact and advantageous +position turn the scale on the same side, against a superior +number so situated as to be less capable of a prompt and +collected exertion of its strength? Nothing can be more +chimerical than to imagine that in a trial of actual force, +victory may be calculated by the rules which prevail in a census +of the inhabitants, or which determine the event of an election! +May it not happen, in fine, that the minority of CITIZENS may +become a majority of PERSONS, by the accession of alien +residents, of a casual concourse of adventurers, or of those whom +the constitution of the State has not admitted to the rights of +suffrage? I take no notice of an unhappy species of population +abounding in some of the States, who, during the calm of regular +government, are sunk below the level of men; but who, in the +tempestuous scenes of civil violence, may emerge into the human +character, and give a superiority of strength to any party with +which they may associate themselves. In cases where it may be +doubtful on which side justice lies, what better umpires could +be desired by two violent factions, flying to arms, and tearing a +State to pieces, than the representatives of confederate States, +not heated by the local flame? To the impartiality of judges, +they would unite the affection of friends. Happy would it be if +such a remedy for its infirmities could be enjoyed by all free +governments; if a project equally effectual could be established +for the universal peace of mankind! Should it be asked, what is +to be the redress for an insurrection pervading all the States, +and comprising a superiority of the entire force, though not a +constitutional right? the answer must be, that such a case, as +it would be without the compass of human remedies, so it is +fortunately not within the compass of human probability; and +that it is a sufficient recommendation of the federal +Constitution, that it diminishes the risk of a calamity for which +no possible constitution can provide a cure. Among the +advantages of a confederate republic enumerated by Montesquieu, +an important one is, ``that should a popular insurrection happen +in one of the States, the others are able to quell it. Should +abuses creep into one part, they are reformed by those that +remain sound. ''7. ``To consider all debts contracted, and +engagements entered into, before the adoption of this +Constitution, as being no less valid against the United States, +under this Constitution, than under the Confederation. ''This +can only be considered as a declaratory proposition; and may have +been inserted, among other reasons, for the satisfaction of the +foreign creditors of the United States, who cannot be strangers +to the pretended doctrine, that a change in the political form of +civil society has the magical effect of dissolving its moral +obligations. Among the lesser criticisms which have been +exercised on the Constitution, it has been remarked that the +validity of engagements ought to have been asserted in favor of +the United States, as well as against them; and in the spirit +which usually characterizes little critics, the omission has been +transformed and magnified into a plot against the national +rights. The authors of this discovery may be told, what few +others need to be informed of, that as engagements are in their +nature reciprocal, an assertion of their validity on one side, +necessarily involves a validity on the other side; and that as +the article is merely declaratory, the establishment of the +principle in one case is sufficient for every case. They may be +further told, that every constitution must limit its precautions +to dangers that are not altogether imaginary; and that no real +danger can exist that the government would DARE, with, or even +without, this constitutional declaration before it, to remit the +debts justly due to the public, on the pretext here condemned. 8. +``To provide for amendments to be ratified by three fourths of +the States under two exceptions only. ''That useful alterations +will be suggested by experience, could not but be foreseen. It +was requisite, therefore, that a mode for introducing them should +be provided. The mode preferred by the convention seems to be +stamped with every mark of propriety. It guards equally against +that extreme facility, which would render the Constitution too +mutable; and that extreme difficulty, which might perpetuate its +discovered faults. It, moreover, equally enables the general and +the State governments to originate the amendment of errors, as +they may be pointed out by the experience on one side, or on the +other. The exception in favor of the equality of suffrage in the +Senate, was probably meant as a palladium to the residuary +sovereignty of the States, implied and secured by that principle +of representation in one branch of the legislature; and was +probably insisted on by the States particularly attached to that +equality. The other exception must have been admitted on the same +considerations which produced the privilege defended by it. 9. +``The ratification of the conventions of nine States shall be +sufficient for the establishment of this Constitution between the +States, ratifying the same. ''This article speaks for itself. +The express authority of the people alone could give due validity +to the Constitution. To have required the unanimous ratification +of the thirteen States, would have subjected the essential +interests of the whole to the caprice or corruption of a single +member. It would have marked a want of foresight in the +convention, which our own experience would have rendered +inexcusable. Two questions of a very delicate nature present +themselves on this occasion: 1. On what principle the +Confederation, which stands in the solemn form of a compact among +the States, can be superseded without the unanimous consent of +the parties to it? 2. What relation is to subsist between the +nine or more States ratifying the Constitution, and the remaining +few who do not become parties to it? The first question is +answered at once by recurring to the absolute necessity of the +case; to the great principle of self-preservation; to the +transcendent law of nature and of nature's God, which declares +that the safety and happiness of society are the objects at which +all political institutions aim, and to which all such +institutions must be sacrificed. PERHAPS, also, an answer may be +found without searching beyond the principles of the compact +itself. It has been heretofore noted among the defects of the +Confederation, that in many of the States it had received no +higher sanction than a mere legislative ratification. The +principle of reciprocality seems to require that its obligation +on the other States should be reduced to the same standard. A +compact between independent sovereigns, founded on ordinary acts +of legislative authority, can pretend to no higher validity than +a league or treaty between the parties. It is an established +doctrine on the subject of treaties, that all the articles are +mutually conditions of each other; that a breach of any one +article is a breach of the whole treaty; and that a breach, +committed by either of the parties, absolves the others, and +authorizes them, if they please, to pronounce the compact +violated and void. Should it unhappily be necessary to appeal to +these delicate truths for a justification for dispensing with +the consent of particular States to a dissolution of the federal +pact, will not the complaining parties find it a difficult task +to answer the MULTIPLIED and IMPORTANT infractions with which +they may be confronted? The time has been when it was incumbent +on us all to veil the ideas which this paragraph exhibits. The +scene is now changed, and with it the part which the same motives +dictate. The second question is not less delicate; and the +flattering prospect of its being merely hypothetical forbids an +overcurious discussion of it. It is one of those cases which must +be left to provide for itself. In general, it may be observed, +that although no political relation can subsist between the +assenting and dissenting States, yet the moral relations will +remain uncancelled. The claims of justice, both on one side and +on the other, will be in force, and must be fulfilled; the +rights of humanity must in all cases be duly and mutually +respected; whilst considerations of a common interest, and, +above all, the remembrance of the endearing scenes which are +past, and the anticipation of a speedy triumph over the obstacles +to reunion, will, it is hoped, not urge in vain MODERATION on one +side, and PRUDENCE on the other. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 44 + +Restrictions on the Authority of the Several States +From the New York Packet. Friday, January 25, 1788. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +A FIFTH class of provisions in favor of the federal authority +consists of the following restrictions on the authority of the +several States:1. ``No State shall enter into any treaty, +alliance, or confederation; grant letters of marque and reprisal; +coin money; emit bills of credit; make any thing but gold and +silver a legal tender in payment of debts; pass any bill of +attainder, ex-post-facto law, or law impairing the obligation of +contracts; or grant any title of nobility. ''The prohibition +against treaties, alliances, and confederations makes a part of +the existing articles of Union; and for reasons which need no +explanation, is copied into the new Constitution. The prohibition +of letters of marque is another part of the old system, but is +somewhat extended in the new. According to the former, letters of +marque could be granted by the States after a declaration of war; +according to the latter, these licenses must be obtained, as well +during war as previous to its declaration, from the government of +the United States. This alteration is fully justified by the +advantage of uniformity in all points which relate to foreign +powers; and of immediate responsibility to the nation in all +those for whose conduct the nation itself is to be responsible. +The right of coining money, which is here taken from the States, +was left in their hands by the Confederation, as a concurrent +right with that of Congress, under an exception in favor of the +exclusive right of Congress to regulate the alloy and value. In +this instance, also, the new provision is an improvement on the +old. Whilst the alloy and value depended on the general +authority, a right of coinage in the particular States could have +no other effect than to multiply expensive mints and diversify +the forms and weights of the circulating pieces. The latter +inconveniency defeats one purpose for which the power was +originally submitted to the federal head; and as far as the +former might prevent an inconvenient remittance of gold and +silver to the central mint for recoinage, the end can be as well +attained by local mints established under the general authority. +The extension of the prohibition to bills of credit must give +pleasure to every citizen, in proportion to his love of justice +and his knowledge of the true springs of public prosperity. The +loss which America has sustained since the peace, from the +pestilent effects of paper money on the necessary confidence +between man and man, on the necessary confidence in the public +councils, on the industry and morals of the people, and on the +character of republican government, constitutes an enormous debt +against the States chargeable with this unadvised measure, which +must long remain unsatisfied; or rather an accumulation of guilt, +which can be expiated no otherwise than by a voluntary sacrifice +on the altar of justice, of the power which has been the +instrument of it. In addition to these persuasive +considerations, it may be observed, that the same reasons which +show the necessity of denying to the States the power of +regulating coin, prove with equal force that they ought not to be +at liberty to substitute a paper medium in the place of coin. Had +every State a right to regulate the value of its coin, there +might be as many different currencies as States, and thus the +intercourse among them would be impeded; retrospective +alterations in its value might be made, and thus the citizens of +other States be injured, and animosities be kindled among the +States themselves. The subjects of foreign powers might suffer +from the same cause, and hence the Union be discredited and +embroiled by the indiscretion of a single member. No one of these +mischiefs is less incident to a power in the States to emit paper +money, than to coin gold or silver. The power to make any thing +but gold and silver a tender in payment of debts, is withdrawn +from the States, on the same principle with that of issuing a +paper currency. Bills of attainder, ex-post-facto laws, and laws +impairing the obligation of contracts, are contrary to the first +principles of the social compact, and to every principle of sound +legislation. The two former are expressly prohibited by the +declarations prefixed to some of the State constitutions, and all +of them are prohibited by the spirit and scope of these +fundamental charters. Our own experience has taught us, +nevertheless, that additional fences against these dangers ought +not to be omitted. Very properly, therefore, have the convention +added this constitutional bulwark in favor of personal security +and private rights; and I am much deceived if they have not, in +so doing, as faithfully consulted the genuine sentiments as the +undoubted interests of their constituents. The sober people of +America are weary of the fluctuating policy which has directed +the public councils. They have seen with regret and indignation +that sudden changes and legislative interferences, in cases +affecting personal rights, become jobs in the hands of +enterprising and influential speculators, and snares to the +more-industrious and less-informed part of the community. They +have seen, too, that one legislative interference is but the +first link of a long chain of repetitions, every subsequent +interference being naturally produced by the effects of the +preceding. They very rightly infer, therefore, that some thorough +reform is wanting, which will banish speculations on public +measures, inspire a general prudence and industry, and give a +regular course to the business of society. The prohibition with +respect to titles of nobility is copied from the articles of +Confederation and needs no comment. 2. ``No State shall, without +the consent of the Congress, lay any imposts or duties on imports +or exports, except what may be absolutely necessary for executing +its inspection laws, and the net produce of all duties and +imposts laid by any State on imports or exports, shall be for the +use of the treasury of the United States; and all such laws shall +be subject to the revision and control of the Congress. No State +shall, without the consent of Congress, lay any duty on tonnage, +keep troops or ships of war in time of peace, enter into any +agreement or compact with another State, or with a foreign power, +or engage in war unless actually invaded, or in such imminent +danger as will not admit of delay. ''The restraint on the power +of the States over imports and exports is enforced by all the +arguments which prove the necessity of submitting the regulation +of trade to the federal councils. It is needless, therefore, to +remark further on this head, than that the manner in which the +restraint is qualified seems well calculated at once to secure to +the States a reasonable discretion in providing for the +conveniency of their imports and exports, and to the United +States a reasonable check against the abuse of this discretion. +The remaining particulars of this clause fall within reasonings +which are either so obvious, or have been so fully developed, +that they may be passed over without remark. The SIXTH and last +class consists of the several powers and provisions by which +efficacy is given to all the rest. 1. Of these the first is, the +``power to make all laws which shall be necessary and proper for +carrying into execution the foregoing powers, and all other +powers vested by this Constitution in the government of the +United States, or in any department or officer thereof. ''Few +parts of the Constitution have been assailed with more +intemperance than this; yet on a fair investigation of it, no +part can appear more completely invulnerable. Without the +SUBSTANCE of this power, the whole Constitution would be a dead +letter. Those who object to the article, therefore, as a part of +the Constitution, can only mean that the FORM of the provision is +improper. But have they considered whether a better form could +have been substituted? There are four other possible methods +which the Constitution might have taken on this subject. They +might have copied the second article of the existing +Confederation, which would have prohibited the exercise of any +power not EXPRESSLY delegated; they might have attempted a +positive enumeration of the powers comprehended under the general +terms ``necessary and proper''; they might have attempted a +negative enumeration of them, by specifying the powers excepted +from the general definition; they might have been altogether +silent on the subject, leaving these necessary and proper powers +to construction and inference. Had the convention taken the +first method of adopting the second article of Confederation, it +is evident that the new Congress would be continually exposed, as +their predecessors have been, to the alternative of construing +the term ``EXPRESSLY'' with so much rigor, as to disarm the +government of all real authority whatever, or with so much +latitude as to destroy altogether the force of the restriction. +It would be easy to show, if it were necessary, that no important +power, delegated by the articles of Confederation, has been or +can be executed by Congress, without recurring more or less to +the doctrine of CONSTRUCTION or IMPLICATION. As the powers +delegated under the new system are more extensive, the government +which is to administer it would find itself still more distressed +with the alternative of betraying the public interests by doing +nothing, or of violating the Constitution by exercising powers +indispensably necessary and proper, but, at the same time, not +EXPRESSLY granted. Had the convention attempted a positive +enumeration of the powers necessary and proper for carrying their +other powers into effect, the attempt would have involved a +complete digest of laws on every subject to which the +Constitution relates; accommodated too, not only to the existing +state of things, but to all the possible changes which futurity +may produce; for in every new application of a general power, the +PARTICULAR POWERS, which are the means of attaining the OBJECT of +the general power, must always necessarily vary with that object, +and be often properly varied whilst the object remains the same. +Had they attempted to enumerate the particular powers or means +not necessary or proper for carrying the general powers into +execution, the task would have been no less chimerical; and would +have been liable to this further objection, that every defect in +the enumeration would have been equivalent to a positive grant of +authority. If, to avoid this consequence, they had attempted a +partial enumeration of the exceptions, and described the residue +by the general terms, NOT NECESSARY OR PROPER, it must have +happened that the enumeration would comprehend a few of the +excepted powers only; that these would be such as would be least +likely to be assumed or tolerated, because the enumeration would +of course select such as would be least necessary or proper; and +that the unnecessary and improper powers included in the +residuum, would be less forcibly excepted, than if no partial +enumeration had been made. Had the Constitution been silent on +this head, there can be no doubt that all the particular powers +requisite as means of executing the general powers would have +resulted to the government, by unavoidable implication. No axiom +is more clearly established in law, or in reason, than that +wherever the end is required, the means are authorized; wherever +a general power to do a thing is given, every particular power +necessary for doing it is included. Had this last method, +therefore, been pursued by the convention, every objection now +urged against their plan would remain in all its plausibility; +and the real inconveniency would be incurred of not removing a +pretext which may be seized on critical occasions for drawing +into question the essential powers of the Union. If it be asked +what is to be the consequence, in case the Congress shall +misconstrue this part of the Constitution, and exercise powers +not warranted by its true meaning, I answer, the same as if they +should misconstrue or enlarge any other power vested in them; as +if the general power had been reduced to particulars, and any one +of these were to be violated; the same, in short, as if the State +legislatures should violate the irrespective constitutional +authorities. In the first instance, the success of the usurpation +will depend on the executive and judiciary departments, which are +to expound and give effect to the legislative acts; and in the +last resort a remedy must be obtained from the people who can, by +the election of more faithful representatives, annul the acts of +the usurpers. The truth is, that this ultimate redress may be +more confided in against unconstitutional acts of the federal +than of the State legislatures, for this plain reason, that as +every such act of the former will be an invasion of the rights of +the latter, these will be ever ready to mark the innovation, to +sound the alarm to the people, and to exert their local influence +in effecting a change of federal representatives. There being no +such intermediate body between the State legislatures and the +people interested in watching the conduct of the former, +violations of the State constitutions are more likely to remain +unnoticed and unredressed. 2. ``This Constitution and the laws +of the United States which shall be made in pursuance thereof, +and all treaties made, or which shall be made, under the +authority of the United States, shall be the supreme law of the +land, and the judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any +thing in the constitution or laws of any State to the contrary +notwithstanding. ''The indiscreet zeal of the adversaries to the +Constitution has betrayed them into an attack on this part of it +also, without which it would have been evidently and radically +defective. To be fully sensible of this, we need only suppose for +a moment that the supremacy of the State constitutions had been +left complete by a saving clause in their favor. In the first +place, as these constitutions invest the State legislatures with +absolute sovereignty, in all cases not excepted by the existing +articles of Confederation, all the authorities contained in the +proposed Constitution, so far as they exceed those enumerated in +the Confederation, would have been annulled, and the new Congress +would have been reduced to the same impotent condition with their +predecessors. In the next place, as the constitutions of some of +the States do not even expressly and fully recognize the existing +powers of the Confederacy, an express saving of the supremacy of +the former would, in such States, have brought into question +every power contained in the proposed Constitution. In the third +place, as the constitutions of the States differ much from each +other, it might happen that a treaty or national law, of great +and equal importance to the States, would interfere with some and +not with other constitutions, and would consequently be valid in +some of the States, at the same time that it would have no effect +in others. In fine, the world would have seen, for the first +time, a system of government founded on an inversion of the +fundamental principles of all government; it would have seen the +authority of the whole society every where subordinate to the +authority of the parts; it would have seen a monster, in which +the head was under the direction of the members. 3. ``The +Senators and Representatives, and the members of the several +State legislatures, and all executive and judicial officers, both +of the United States and the several States, shall be bound by +oath or affirmation to support this Constitution. ''It has been +asked why it was thought necessary, that the State magistracy +should be bound to support the federal Constitution, and +unnecessary that a like oath should be imposed on the officers of +the United States, in favor of the State constitutions. Several +reasons might be assigned for the distinction. I content myself +with one, which is obvious and conclusive. The members of the +federal government will have no agency in carrying the State +constitutions into effect. The members and officers of the State +governments, on the contrary, will have an essential agency in +giving effect to the federal Constitution. The election of the +President and Senate will depend, in all cases, on the +legislatures of the several States. And the election of the House +of Representatives will equally depend on the same authority in +the first instance; and will, probably, forever be conducted by +the officers, and according to the laws, of the States. 4. Among +the provisions for giving efficacy to the federal powers might be +added those which belong to the executive and judiciary +departments: but as these are reserved for particular examination +in another place, I pass them over in this. We have now +reviewed, in detail, all the articles composing the sum or +quantity of power delegated by the proposed Constitution to the +federal government, and are brought to this undeniable +conclusion, that no part of the power is unnecessary or improper +for accomplishing the necessary objects of the Union. The +question, therefore, whether this amount of power shall be +granted or not, resolves itself into another question, whether or +not a government commensurate to the exigencies of the Union +shall be established; or, in other words, whether the Union +itself shall be preserved. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 45 + +The Alleged Danger From the Powers of the Union to the State +Governments Considered +For the Independent Fournal. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +HAVING shown that no one of the powers transferred to the federal +government is unnecessary or improper, the next question to be +considered is, whether the whole mass of them will be dangerous +to the portion of authority left in the several States. The +adversaries to the plan of the convention, instead of considering +in the first place what degree of power was absolutely necessary +for the purposes of the federal government, have exhausted +themselves in a secondary inquiry into the possible consequences +of the proposed degree of power to the governments of the +particular States. But if the Union, as has been shown, be +essential to the security of the people of America against +foreign danger; if it be essential to their security against +contentions and wars among the different States; if it be +essential to guard them against those violent and oppressive +factions which embitter the blessings of liberty, and against +those military establishments which must gradually poison its +very fountain; if, in a word, the Union be essential to the +happiness of the people of America, is it not preposterous, to +urge as an objection to a government, without which the objects +of the Union cannot be attained, that such a government may +derogate from the importance of the governments of the individual +States? Was, then, the American Revolution effected, was the +American Confederacy formed, was the precious blood of thousands +spilt, and the hard-earned substance of millions lavished, not +that the people of America should enjoy peace, liberty, and +safety, but that the government of the individual States, that +particular municipal establishments, might enjoy a certain extent +of power, and be arrayed with certain dignities and attributes of +sovereignty? We have heard of the impious doctrine in the Old +World, that the people were made for kings, not kings for the +people. Is the same doctrine to be revived in the New, in another +shape that the solid happiness of the people is to be sacrificed +to the views of political institutions of a different form? It is +too early for politicians to presume on our forgetting that the +public good, the real welfare of the great body of the people, is +the supreme object to be pursued; and that no form of government +whatever has any other value than as it may be fitted for the +attainment of this object. Were the plan of the convention +adverse to the public happiness, my voice would be, Reject the +plan. Were the Union itself inconsistent with the public +happiness, it would be, Abolish the Union. In like manner, as far +as the sovereignty of the States cannot be reconciled to the +happiness of the people, the voice of every good citizen must be, +Let the former be sacrificed to the latter. How far the sacrifice +is necessary, has been shown. How far the unsacrificed residue +will be endangered, is the question before us. Several important +considerations have been touched in the course of these papers, +which discountenance the supposition that the operation of the +federal government will by degrees prove fatal to the State +governments. The more I revolve the subject, the more fully I am +persuaded that the balance is much more likely to be disturbed by +the preponderancy of the last than of the first scale. We have +seen, in all the examples of ancient and modern confederacies, +the strongest tendency continually betraying itself in the +members, to despoil the general government of its authorities, +with a very ineffectual capacity in the latter to defend itself +against the encroachments. Although, in most of these examples, +the system has been so dissimilar from that under consideration +as greatly to weaken any inference concerning the latter from the +fate of the former, yet, as the States will retain, under the +proposed Constitution, a very extensive portion of active +sovereignty, the inference ought not to be wholly disregarded. In +the Achaean league it is probable that the federal head had a +degree and species of power, which gave it a considerable +likeness to the government framed by the convention. The Lycian +Confederacy, as far as its principles and form are transmitted, +must have borne a still greater analogy to it. Yet history does +not inform us that either of them ever degenerated, or tended to +degenerate, into one consolidated government. On the contrary, we +know that the ruin of one of them proceeded from the incapacity +of the federal authority to prevent the dissensions, and finally +the disunion, of the subordinate authorities. These cases are the +more worthy of our attention, as the external causes by which the +component parts were pressed together were much more numerous and +powerful than in our case; and consequently less powerful +ligaments within would be sufficient to bind the members to the +head, and to each other. In the feudal system, we have seen a +similar propensity exemplified. Notwithstanding the want of +proper sympathy in every instance between the local sovereigns +and the people, and the sympathy in some instances between the +general sovereign and the latter, it usually happened that the +local sovereigns prevailed in the rivalship for encroachments. +Had no external dangers enforced internal harmony and +subordination, and particularly, had the local sovereigns +possessed the affections of the people, the great kingdoms in +Europe would at this time consist of as many independent princes +as there were formerly feudatory barons. The State government +will have the advantage of the Federal government, whether we +compare them in respect to the immediate dependence of the one on +the other; to the weight of personal influence which each side +will possess; to the powers respectively vested in them; to the +predilection and probable support of the people; to the +disposition and faculty of resisting and frustrating the measures +of each other. The State governments may be regarded as +constituent and essential parts of the federal government; whilst +the latter is nowise essential to the operation or organization +of the former. Without the intervention of the State +legislatures, the President of the United States cannot be +elected at all. They must in all cases have a great share in his +appointment, and will, perhaps, in most cases, of themselves +determine it. The Senate will be elected absolutely and +exclusively by the State legislatures. Even the House of +Representatives, though drawn immediately from the people, will +be chosen very much under the influence of that class of men, +whose influence over the people obtains for themselves an +election into the State legislatures. Thus, each of the principal +branches of the federal government will owe its existence more or +less to the favor of the State governments, and must consequently +feel a dependence, which is much more likely to beget a +disposition too obsequious than too overbearing towards them. On +the other side, the component parts of the State governments will +in no instance be indebted for their appointment to the direct +agency of the federal government, and very little, if at all, to +the local influence of its members. The number of individuals +employed under the Constitution of the United States will be much +smaller than the number employed under the particular States. +There will consequently be less of personal influence on the side +of the former than of the latter. The members of the legislative, +executive, and judiciary departments of thirteen and more States, +the justices of peace, officers of militia, ministerial officers +of justice, with all the county, corporation, and town officers, +for three millions and more of people, intermixed, and having +particular acquaintance with every class and circle of people, +must exceed, beyond all proportion, both in number and influence, +those of every description who will be employed in the +administration of the federal system. Compare the members of the +three great departments of the thirteen States, excluding from +the judiciary department the justices of peace, with the members +of the corresponding departments of the single government of the +Union; compare the militia officers of three millions of people +with the military and marine officers of any establishment which +is within the compass of probability, or, I may add, of +possibility, and in this view alone, we may pronounce the +advantage of the States to be decisive. If the federal government +is to have collectors of revenue, the State governments will have +theirs also. And as those of the former will be principally on +the seacoast, and not very numerous, whilst those of the latter +will be spread over the face of the country, and will be very +numerous, the advantage in this view also lies on the same side. +It is true, that the Confederacy is to possess, and may exercise, +the power of collecting internal as well as external taxes +throughout the States; but it is probable that this power will +not be resorted to, except for supplemental purposes of revenue; +that an option will then be given to the States to supply their +quotas by previous collections of their own; and that the +eventual collection, under the immediate authority of the Union, +will generally be made by the officers, and according to the +rules, appointed by the several States. Indeed it is extremely +probable, that in other instances, particularly in the +organization of the judicial power, the officers of the States +will be clothed with the correspondent authority of the Union. +Should it happen, however, that separate collectors of internal +revenue should be appointed under the federal government, the +influence of the whole number would not bear a comparison with +that of the multitude of State officers in the opposite scale. +Within every district to which a federal collector would be +allotted, there would not be less than thirty or forty, or even +more, officers of different descriptions, and many of them +persons of character and weight, whose influence would lie on the +side of the State. The powers delegated by the proposed +Constitution to the federal government are few and defined. Those +which are to remain in the State governments are numerous and +indefinite. The former will be exercised principally on external +objects, as war, peace, negotiation, and foreign commerce; with +which last the power of taxation will, for the most part, be +connected. The powers reserved to the several States will extend +to all the objects which, in the ordinary course of affairs, +concern the lives, liberties, and properties of the people, and +the internal order, improvement, and prosperity of the State. The +operations of the federal government will be most extensive and +important in times of war and danger; those of the State +governments, in times of peace and security. As the former +periods will probably bear a small proportion to the latter, the +State governments will here enjoy another advantage over the +federal government. The more adequate, indeed, the federal powers +may be rendered to the national defense, the less frequent will +be those scenes of danger which might favor their ascendancy over +the governments of the particular States. If the new Constitution +be examined with accuracy and candor, it will be found that the +change which it proposes consists much less in the addition of +NEW POWERS to the Union, than in the invigoration of its ORIGINAL +POWERS. The regulation of commerce, it is true, is a new power; +but that seems to be an addition which few oppose, and from which +no apprehensions are entertained. The powers relating to war and +peace, armies and fleets, treaties and finance, with the other +more considerable powers, are all vested in the existing Congress +by the articles of Confederation. The proposed change does not +enlarge these powers; it only substitutes a more effectual mode +of administering them. The change relating to taxation may be +regarded as the most important; and yet the present Congress have +as complete authority to REQUIRE of the States indefinite +supplies of money for the common defense and general welfare, as +the future Congress will have to require them of individual +citizens; and the latter will be no more bound than the States +themselves have been, to pay the quotas respectively taxed on +them. Had the States complied punctually with the articles of +Confederation, or could their compliance have been enforced by as +peaceable means as may be used with success towards single +persons, our past experience is very far from countenancing an +opinion, that the State governments would have lost their +constitutional powers, and have gradually undergone an entire +consolidation. To maintain that such an event would have ensued, +would be to say at once, that the existence of the State +governments is incompatible with any system whatever that +accomplishes the essential purposes of the Union. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 46 + +The Influence of the State and Federal Governments Compared +From the New York Packet. Tuesday, January 29, 1788. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +RESUMING the subject of the last paper, I proceed to inquire +whether the federal government or the State governments will have +the advantage with regard to the predilection and support of the +people. Notwithstanding the different modes in which they are +appointed, we must consider both of them as substantially +dependent on the great body of the citizens of the United States. +I assume this position here as it respects the first, reserving +the proofs for another place. The federal and State governments +are in fact but different agents and trustees of the people, +constituted with different powers, and designed for different +purposes. The adversaries of the Constitution seem to have lost +sight of the people altogether in their reasonings on this +subject; and to have viewed these different establishments, not +only as mutual rivals and enemies, but as uncontrolled by any +common superior in their efforts to usurp the authorities of each +other. These gentlemen must here be reminded of their error. They +must be told that the ultimate authority, wherever the derivative +may be found, resides in the people alone, and that it will not +depend merely on the comparative ambition or address of the +different governments, whether either, or which of them, will be +able to enlarge its sphere of jurisdiction at the expense of the +other. Truth, no less than decency, requires that the event in +every case should be supposed to depend on the sentiments and +sanction of their common constituents. Many considerations, +besides those suggested on a former occasion, seem to place it +beyond doubt that the first and most natural attachment of the +people will be to the governments of their respective States. +Into the administration of these a greater number of individuals +will expect to rise. From the gift of these a greater number of +offices and emoluments will flow. By the superintending care of +these, all the more domestic and personal interests of the people +will be regulated and provided for. With the affairs of these, +the people will be more familiarly and minutely conversant. And +with the members of these, will a greater proportion of the +people have the ties of personal acquaintance and friendship, and +of family and party attachments; on the side of these, +therefore, the popular bias may well be expected most strongly to +incline. Experience speaks the same language in this case. The +federal administration, though hitherto very defective in +comparison with what may be hoped under a better system, had, +during the war, and particularly whilst the independent fund of +paper emissions was in credit, an activity and importance as +great as it can well have in any future circumstances whatever. +It was engaged, too, in a course of measures which had for their +object the protection of everything that was dear, and the +acquisition of everything that could be desirable to the people +at large. It was, nevertheless, invariably found, after the +transient enthusiasm for the early Congresses was over, that the +attention and attachment of the people were turned anew to their +own particular governments; that the federal council was at no +time the idol of popular favor; and that opposition to proposed +enlargements of its powers and importance was the side usually +taken by the men who wished to build their political consequence +on the prepossessions of their fellow-citizens. If, therefore, +as has been elsewhere remarked, the people should in future +become more partial to the federal than to the State governments, +the change can only result from such manifest and irresistible +proofs of a better administration, as will overcome all their +antecedent propensities. And in that case, the people ought not +surely to be precluded from giving most of their confidence where +they may discover it to be most due; but even in that case the +State governments could have little to apprehend, because it is +only within a certain sphere that the federal power can, in the +nature of things, be advantageously administered. The remaining +points on which I propose to compare the federal and State +governments, are the disposition and the faculty they may +respectively possess, to resist and frustrate the measures of +each other. It has been already proved that the members of the +federal will be more dependent on the members of the State +governments, than the latter will be on the former. It has +appeared also, that the prepossessions of the people, on whom +both will depend, will be more on the side of the State +governments, than of the federal government. So far as the +disposition of each towards the other may be influenced by these +causes, the State governments must clearly have the advantage. +But in a distinct and very important point of view, the advantage +will lie on the same side. The prepossessions, which the members +themselves will carry into the federal government, will generally +be favorable to the States; whilst it will rarely happen, that +the members of the State governments will carry into the public +councils a bias in favor of the general government. A local +spirit will infallibly prevail much more in the members of +Congress, than a national spirit will prevail in the legislatures +of the particular States. Every one knows that a great proportion +of the errors committed by the State legislatures proceeds from +the disposition of the members to sacrifice the comprehensive and +permanent interest of the State, to the particular and separate +views of the counties or districts in which they reside. And if +they do not sufficiently enlarge their policy to embrace the +collective welfare of their particular State, how can it be +imagined that they will make the aggregate prosperity of the +Union, and the dignity and respectability of its government, the +objects of their affections and consultations? For the same +reason that the members of the State legislatures will be +unlikely to attach themselves sufficiently to national objects, +the members of the federal legislature will be likely to attach +themselves too much to local objects. The States will be to the +latter what counties and towns are to the former. Measures will +too often be decided according to their probable effect, not on +the national prosperity and happiness, but on the prejudices, +interests, and pursuits of the governments and people of the +individual States. What is the spirit that has in general +characterized the proceedings of Congress? A perusal of their +journals, as well as the candid acknowledgments of such as have +had a seat in that assembly, will inform us, that the members +have but too frequently displayed the character, rather of +partisans of their respective States, than of impartial guardians +of a common interest; that where on one occasion improper +sacrifices have been made of local considerations, to the +aggrandizement of the federal government, the great interests of +the nation have suffered on a hundred, from an undue attention to +the local prejudices, interests, and views of the particular +States. I mean not by these reflections to insinuate, that the +new federal government will not embrace a more enlarged plan of +policy than the existing government may have pursued; much less, +that its views will be as confined as those of the State +legislatures; but only that it will partake sufficiently of the +spirit of both, to be disinclined to invade the rights of the +individual States, or the preorgatives of their governments. The +motives on the part of the State governments, to augment their +prerogatives by defalcations from the federal government, will be +overruled by no reciprocal predispositions in the members. Were +it admitted, however, that the Federal government may feel an +equal disposition with the State governments to extend its power +beyond the due limits, the latter would still have the advantage +in the means of defeating such encroachments. If an act of a +particular State, though unfriendly to the national government, +be generally popular in that State and should not too grossly +violate the oaths of the State officers, it is executed +immediately and, of course, by means on the spot and depending on +the State alone. The opposition of the federal government, or the +interposition of federal officers, would but inflame the zeal of +all parties on the side of the State, and the evil could not be +prevented or repaired, if at all, without the employment of means +which must always be resorted to with reluctance and difficulty. +On the other hand, should an unwarrantable measure of the federal +government be unpopular in particular States, which would seldom +fail to be the case, or even a warrantable measure be so, which +may sometimes be the case, the means of opposition to it are +powerful and at hand. The disquietude of the people; their +repugnance and, perhaps, refusal to co-operate with the officers +of the Union; the frowns of the executive magistracy of the +State; the embarrassments created by legislative devices, which +would often be added on such occasions, would oppose, in any +State, difficulties not to be despised; would form, in a large +State, very serious impediments; and where the sentiments of +several adjoining States happened to be in unison, would present +obstructions which the federal government would hardly be willing +to encounter. But ambitious encroachments of the federal +government, on the authority of the State governments, would not +excite the opposition of a single State, or of a few States +only. They would be signals of general alarm. Every government +would espouse the common cause. A correspondence would be +opened. Plans of resistance would be concerted. One spirit would +animate and conduct the whole. The same combinations, in short, +would result from an apprehension of the federal, as was produced +by the dread of a foreign, yoke; and unless the projected +innovations should be voluntarily renounced, the same appeal to +a trial of force would be made in the one case as was made in the +other. But what degree of madness could ever drive the federal +government to such an extremity. In the contest with Great +Britain, one part of the empire was employed against the other. +The more numerous part invaded the rights of the less numerous +part. The attempt was unjust and unwise; but it was not in +speculation absolutely chimerical. But what would be the contest +in the case we are supposing? Who would be the parties? A few +representatives of the people would be opposed to the people +themselves; or rather one set of representatives would be +contending against thirteen sets of representatives, with the +whole body of their common constituents on the side of the +latter. The only refuge left for those who prophesy the downfall +of the State governments is the visionary supposition that the +federal government may previously accumulate a military force for +the projects of ambition. The reasonings contained in these +papers must have been employed to little purpose indeed, if it +could be necessary now to disprove the reality of this danger. +That the people and the States should, for a sufficient period of +time, elect an uninterrupted succession of men ready to betray +both; that the traitors should, throughout this period, +uniformly and systematically pursue some fixed plan for the +extension of the military establishment; that the governments +and the people of the States should silently and patiently behold +the gathering storm, and continue to supply the materials, until +it should be prepared to burst on their own heads, must appear to +every one more like the incoherent dreams of a delirious +jealousy, or the misjudged exaggerations of a counterfeit zeal, +than like the sober apprehensions of genuine patriotism. +Extravagant as the supposition is, let it however be made. Let a +regular army, fully equal to the resources of the country, be +formed; and let it be entirely at the devotion of the federal +government; still it would not be going too far to say, that the +State governments, with the people on their side, would be able +to repel the danger. The highest number to which, according to +the best computation, a standing army can be carried in any +country, does not exceed one hundredth part of the whole number +of souls; or one twenty-fifth part of the number able to bear +arms. This proportion would not yield, in the United States, an +army of more than twenty-five or thirty thousand men. To these +would be opposed a militia amounting to near half a million of +citizens with arms in their hands, officered by men chosen from +among themselves, fighting for their common liberties, and united +and conducted by governments possessing their affections and +confidence. It may well be doubted, whether a militia thus +circumstanced could ever be conquered by such a proportion of +regular troops. Those who are best acquainted with the last +successful resistance of this country against the British arms, +will be most inclined to deny the possibility of it. Besides the +advantage of being armed, which the Americans possess over the +people of almost every other nation, the existence of +subordinate governments, to which the people are attached, and by +which the militia officers are appointed, forms a barrier against +the enterprises of ambition, more insurmountable than any which a +simple government of any form can admit of. Notwithstanding the +military establishments in the several kingdoms of Europe, which +are carried as far as the public resources will bear, the +governments are afraid to trust the people with arms. And it is +not certain, that with this aid alone they would not be able to +shake off their yokes. But were the people to possess the +additional advantages of local governments chosen by themselves, +who could collect the national will and direct the national +force, and of officers appointed out of the militia, by these +governments, and attached both to them and to the militia, it may +be affirmed with the greatest assurance, that the throne of every +tyranny in Europe would be speedily overturned in spite of the +legions which surround it. Let us not insult the free and gallant +citizens of America with the suspicion, that they would be less +able to defend the rights of which they would be in actual +possession, than the debased subjects of arbitrary power would be +to rescue theirs from the hands of their oppressors. Let us +rather no longer insult them with the supposition that they can +ever reduce themselves to the necessity of making the experiment, +by a blind and tame submission to the long train of insidious +measures which must precede and produce it. The argument under +the present head may be put into a very concise form, which +appears altogether conclusive. Either the mode in which the +federal government is to be constructed will render it +sufficiently dependent on the people, or it will not. On the +first supposition, it will be restrained by that dependence from +forming schemes obnoxious to their constituents. On the other +supposition, it will not possess the confidence of the people, +and its schemes of usurpation will be easily defeated by the +State governments, who will be supported by the people. On +summing up the considerations stated in this and the last paper, +they seem to amount to the most convincing evidence, that the +powers proposed to be lodged in the federal government are as +little formidable to those reserved to the individual States, as +they are indispensably necessary to accomplish the purposes of +the Union; and that all those alarms which have been sounded, of +a meditated and consequential annihilation of the State +governments, must, on the most favorable interpretation, be +ascribed to the chimerical fears of the authors of them. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 47 + +The Particular Structure of the New Government and the +Distribution of Power Among Its Different Parts +From the New York Packet. Friday, February 1, 1788. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +HAVING reviewed the general form of the proposed government and +the general mass of power allotted to it, I proceed to examine +the particular structure of this government, and the distribution +of this mass of power among its constituent parts. One of the +principal objections inculcated by the more respectable +adversaries to the Constitution, is its supposed violation of the +political maxim, that the legislative, executive, and judiciary +departments ought to be separate and distinct. In the structure +of the federal government, no regard, it is said, seems to have +been paid to this essential precaution in favor of liberty. The +several departments of power are distributed and blended in such +a manner as at once to destroy all symmetry and beauty of form, +and to expose some of the essential parts of the edifice to the +danger of being crushed by the disproportionate weight of other +parts. No political truth is certainly of greater intrinsic +value, or is stamped with the authority of more enlightened +patrons of liberty, than that on which the objection is founded. +The accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive, and +judiciary, in the same hands, whether of one, a few, or many, and +whether hereditary, selfappointed, or elective, may justly be +pronounced the very definition of tyranny. Were the federal +Constitution, therefore, really chargeable with the accumulation +of power, or with a mixture of powers, having a dangerous +tendency to such an accumulation, no further arguments would be +necessary to inspire a universal reprobation of the system. I +persuade myself, however, that it will be made apparent to every +one, that the charge cannot be supported, and that the maxim on +which it relies has been totally misconceived and misapplied. In +order to form correct ideas on this important subject, it will be +proper to investigate the sense in which the preservation of +liberty requires that the three great departments of power should +be separate and distinct. The oracle who is always consulted and +cited on this subject is the celebrated Montesquieu. If he be not +the author of this invaluable precept in the science of politics, +he has the merit at least of displaying and recommending it most +effectually to the attention of mankind. Let us endeavor, in the +first place, to ascertain his meaning on this point. The British +Constitution was to Montesquieu what Homer has been to the +didactic writers on epic poetry. As the latter have considered +the work of the immortal bard as the perfect model from which the +principles and rules of the epic art were to be drawn, and by +which all similar works were to be judged, so this great +political critic appears to have viewed the Constitution of +England as the standard, or to use his own expression, as the +mirror of political liberty; and to have delivered, in the form +of elementary truths, the several characteristic principles of +that particular system. That we may be sure, then, not to mistake +his meaning in this case, let us recur to the source from which +the maxim was drawn. + On the slightest view of the British +Constitution, we must perceive that the legislative, executive, +and judiciary departments are by no means totally separate and +distinct from each other. The executive magistrate forms an +integral part of the legislative authority. He alone has the +prerogative of making treaties with foreign sovereigns, which, +when made, have, under certain limitations, the force of +legislative acts. All the members of the judiciary department are +appointed by him, can be removed by him on the address of the two +Houses of Parliament, and form, when he pleases to consult them, +one of his constitutional councils. One branch of the legislative +department forms also a great constitutional council to the +executive chief, as, on another hand, it is the sole depositary +of judicial power in cases of impeachment, and is invested with +the supreme appellate jurisdiction in all other cases. The +judges, again, are so far connected with the legislative +department as often to attend and participate in its +deliberations, though not admitted to a legislative vote. From +these facts, by which Montesquieu was guided, it may clearly be +inferred that, in saying ``There can be no liberty where the +legislative and executive powers are united in the same person, +or body of magistrates,'' or, ``if the power of judging be not +separated from the legislative and executive powers,'' he did not +mean that these departments ought to have no PARTIAL AGENCY in, +or no CONTROL over, the acts of each other. His meaning, as his +own words import, and still more conclusively as illustrated by +the example in his eye, can amount to no more than this, that +where the WHOLE power of one department is exercised by the same +hands which possess the WHOLE power of another department, the +fundamental principles of a free constitution are subverted. This +would have been the case in the constitution examined by him, if +the king, who is the sole executive magistrate, had possessed +also the complete legislative power, or the supreme +administration of justice; or if the entire legislative body had +possessed the supreme judiciary, or the supreme executive +authority. This, however, is not among the vices of that +constitution. The magistrate in whom the whole executive power +resides cannot of himself make a law, though he can put a +negative on every law; nor administer justice in person, though +he has the appointment of those who do administer it. The judges +can exercise no executive prerogative, though they are shoots +from the executive stock; nor any legislative function, though +they may be advised with by the legislative councils. The entire +legislature can perform no judiciary act, though by the joint act +of two of its branches the judges may be removed from their +offices, and though one of its branches is possessed of the +judicial power in the last resort. The entire legislature, again, +can exercise no executive prerogative, though one of its branches +constitutes the supreme executive magistracy, and another, on the +impeachment of a third, can try and condemn all the subordinate +officers in the executive department. The reasons on which +Montesquieu grounds his maxim are a further demonstration of his +meaning. ``When the legislative and executive powers are united +in the same person or body,'' says he, ``there can be no liberty, +because apprehensions may arise lest THE SAME monarch or senate +should ENACT tyrannical laws to EXECUTE them in a tyrannical +manner. '' Again: ``Were the power of judging joined with the +legislative, the life and liberty of the subject would be exposed +to arbitrary control, for THE JUDGE would then be THE LEGISLATOR. +Were it joined to the executive power, THE JUDGE might behave +with all the violence of AN OPPRESSOR. '' Some of these reasons +are more fully explained in other passages; but briefly stated as +they are here, they sufficiently establish the meaning which we +have put on this celebrated maxim of this celebrated author. + +If we look into the constitutions of the several States, we find +that, notwithstanding the emphatical and, in some instances, the +unqualified terms in which this axiom has been laid down, there +is not a single instance in which the several departments of +power have been kept absolutely separate and distinct. New +Hampshire, whose constitution was the last formed, seems to have +been fully aware of the impossibility and inexpediency of +avoiding any mixture whatever of these departments, and has +qualified the doctrine by declaring ``that the legislative, +executive, and judiciary powers ought to be kept as separate +from, and independent of, each other AS THE NATURE OF A FREE +GOVERNMENT WILL ADMIT; OR AS IS CONSISTENT WITH THAT CHAIN OF +CONNECTION THAT BINDS THE WHOLE FABRIC OF THE CONSTITUTION IN ONE +INDISSOLUBLE BOND OF UNITY AND AMITY. '' Her constitution +accordingly mixes these departments in several respects. The +Senate, which is a branch of the legislative department, is also +a judicial tribunal for the trial of impeachments. The +President, who is the head of the executive department, is the +presiding member also of the Senate; and, besides an equal vote +in all cases, has a casting vote in case of a tie. The executive +head is himself eventually elective every year by the +legislative department, and his council is every year chosen by +and from the members of the same department. Several of the +officers of state are also appointed by the legislature. And the +members of the judiciary department are appointed by the +executive department. The constitution of Massachusetts has +observed a sufficient though less pointed caution, in expressing +this fundamental article of liberty. It declares ``that the +legislative department shall never exercise the executive and +judicial powers, or either of them; the executive shall never +exercise the legislative and judicial powers, or either of them; +the judicial shall never exercise the legislative and executive +powers, or either of them. '' This declaration corresponds +precisely with the doctrine of Montesquieu, as it has been +explained, and is not in a single point violated by the plan of +the convention. It goes no farther than to prohibit any one of +the entire departments from exercising the powers of another +department. In the very Constitution to which it is prefixed, a +partial mixture of powers has been admitted. The executive +magistrate has a qualified negative on the legislative body, and +the Senate, which is a part of the legislature, is a court of +impeachment for members both of the executive and judiciary +departments. The members of the judiciary department, again, are +appointable by the executive department, and removable by the +same authority on the address of the two legislative branches. +Lastly, a number of the officers of government are annually +appointed by the legislative department. As the appointment to +offices, particularly executive offices, is in its nature an +executive function, the compilers of the Constitution have, in +this last point at least, violated the rule established by +themselves. I pass over the constitutions of Rhode Island and +Connecticut, because they were formed prior to the Revolution, +and even before the principle under examination had become an +object of political attention. The constitution of New York +contains no declaration on this subject; but appears very +clearly to have been framed with an eye to the danger of +improperly blending the different departments. It gives, +nevertheless, to the executive magistrate, a partial control over +the legislative department; and, what is more, gives a like +control to the judiciary department; and even blends the +executive and judiciary departments in the exercise of this +control. In its council of appointment members of the +legislative are associated with the executive authority, in the +appointment of officers, both executive and judiciary. And its +court for the trial of impeachments and correction of errors is +to consist of one branch of the legislature and the principal +members of the judiciary department. The constitution of New +Jersey has blended the different powers of government more than +any of the preceding. The governor, who is the executive +magistrate, is appointed by the legislature; is chancellor and +ordinary, or surrogate of the State; is a member of the Supreme +Court of Appeals, and president, with a casting vote, of one of +the legislative branches. The same legislative branch acts again +as executive council of the governor, and with him constitutes +the Court of Appeals. The members of the judiciary department are +appointed by the legislative department and removable by one +branch of it, on the impeachment of the other. According to the +constitution of Pennsylvania, the president, who is the head of +the executive department, is annually elected by a vote in which +the legislative department predominates. In conjunction with an +executive council, he appoints the members of the judiciary +department, and forms a court of impeachment for trial of all +officers, judiciary as well as executive. The judges of the +Supreme Court and justices of the peace seem also to be removable +by the legislature; and the executive power of pardoning in +certain cases, to be referred to the same department. The members +of the executive council are made EX-OFFICIO justices of peace +throughout the State. In Delaware, the chief executive magistrate +is annually elected by the legislative department. The speakers +of the two legislative branches are vice-presidents in the +executive department. The executive chief, with six others, +appointed, three by each of the legislative branches constitutes +the Supreme Court of Appeals; he is joined with the legislative +department in the appointment of the other judges. Throughout the +States, it appears that the members of the legislature may at the +same time be justices of the peace; in this State, the members of +one branch of it are EX-OFFICIO justices of the peace; as are +also the members of the executive council. The principal officers +of the executive department are appointed by the legislative; and +one branch of the latter forms a court of impeachments. All +officers may be removed on address of the legislature. Maryland +has adopted the maxim in the most unqualified terms; declaring +that the legislative, executive, and judicial powers of +government ought to be forever separate and distinct from each +other. Her constitution, notwithstanding, makes the executive +magistrate appointable by the legislative department; and the +members of the judiciary by the executive department. The +language of Virginia is still more pointed on this subject. Her +constitution declares, ``that the legislative, executive, and +judiciary departments shall be separate and distinct; so that +neither exercise the powers properly belonging to the other; nor +shall any person exercise the powers of more than one of them at +the same time, except that the justices of county courts shall be +eligible to either House of Assembly. '' Yet we find not only +this express exception, with respect to the members of the +inferior courts, but that the chief magistrate, with his +executive council, are appointable by the legislature; that two +members of the latter are triennially displaced at the pleasure +of the legislature; and that all the principal offices, both +executive and judiciary, are filled by the same department. The +executive prerogative of pardon, also, is in one case vested in +the legislative department. The constitution of North Carolina, +which declares ``that the legislative, executive, and supreme +judicial powers of government ought to be forever separate and +distinct from each other,'' refers, at the same time, to the +legislative department, the appointment not only of the executive +chief, but all the principal officers within both that and the +judiciary department. In South Carolina, the constitution makes +the executive magistracy eligible by the legislative department. +It gives to the latter, also, the appointment of the members of +the judiciary department, including even justices of the peace +and sheriffs; and the appointment of officers in the executive +department, down to captains in the army and navy of the State. +In the constitution of Georgia, where it is declared ``that the +legislative, executive, and judiciary departments shall be +separate and distinct, so that neither exercise the powers +properly belonging to the other,'' we find that the executive +department is to be filled by appointments of the legislature; +and the executive prerogative of pardon to be finally exercised +by the same authority. Even justices of the peace are to be +appointed by the legislature. In citing these cases, in which +the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments have not +been kept totally separate and distinct, I wish not to be +regarded as an advocate for the particular organizations of the +several State governments. I am fully aware that among the many +excellent principles which they exemplify, they carry strong +marks of the haste, and still stronger of the inexperience, under +which they were framed. It is but too obvious that in some +instances the fundamental principle under consideration has been +violated by too great a mixture, and even an actual +consolidation, of the different powers; and that in no instance +has a competent provision been made for maintaining in practice +the separation delineated on paper. What I have wished to evince +is, that the charge brought against the proposed Constitution, of +violating the sacred maxim of free government, is warranted +neither by the real meaning annexed to that maxim by its author, +nor by the sense in which it has hitherto been understood in +America. This interesting subject will be resumed in the ensuing +paper. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 48 + +These Departments Should Not Be So Far Separated as to Have No +Constitutional Control Over Each Other +From the New York Packet. Friday, February 1, 1788. + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT WAS shown in the last paper that the political apothegm there +examined does not require that the legislative, executive, and +judiciary departments should be wholly unconnected with each +other. I shall undertake, in the next place, to show that unless +these departments be so far connected and blended as to give to +each a constitutional control over the others, the degree of +separation which the maxim requires, as essential to a free +government, can never in practice be duly maintained. It is +agreed on all sides, that the powers properly belonging to one of +the departments ought not to be directly and completely +administered by either of the other departments. It is equally +evident, that none of them ought to possess, directly or +indirectly, an overruling influence over the others, in the +administration of their respective powers. It will not be denied, +that power is of an encroaching nature, and that it ought to be +effectually restrained from passing the limits assigned to it. +After discriminating, therefore, in theory, the several classes +of power, as they may in their nature be legislative, executive, +or judiciary, the next and most difficult task is to provide some +practical security for each, against the invasion of the others. +What this security ought to be, is the great problem to be +solved. Will it be sufficient to mark, with precision, the +boundaries of these departments, in the constitution of the +government, and to trust to these parchment barriers against the +encroaching spirit of power? This is the security which appears +to have been principally relied on by the compilers of most of +the American constitutions. But experience assures us, that the +efficacy of the provision has been greatly overrated; and that +some more adequate defense is indispensably necessary for the +more feeble, against the more powerful, members of the +government. The legislative department is everywhere extending +the sphere of its activity, and drawing all power into its +impetuous vortex. The founders of our republics have so much +merit for the wisdom which they have displayed, that no task can +be less pleasing than that of pointing out the errors into which +they have fallen. A respect for truth, however, obliges us to +remark, that they seem never for a moment to have turned their +eyes from the danger to liberty from the overgrown and +all-grasping prerogative of an hereditary magistrate, supported +and fortified by an hereditary branch of the legislative +authority. They seem never to have recollected the danger from +legislative usurpations, which, by assembling all power in the +same hands, must lead to the same tyranny as is threatened by +executive usurpations. In a government where numerous and +extensive prerogatives are placed in the hands of an hereditary +monarch, the executive department is very justly regarded as the +source of danger, and watched with all the jealousy which a zeal +for liberty ought to inspire. In a democracy, where a multitude +of people exercise in person the legislative functions, and are +continually exposed, by their incapacity for regular deliberation +and concerted measures, to the ambitious intrigues of their +executive magistrates, tyranny may well be apprehended, on some +favorable emergency, to start up in the same quarter. But in a +representative republic, where the executive magistracy is +carefully limited; both in the extent and the duration of its +power; and where the legislative power is exercised by an +assembly, which is inspired, by a supposed influence over the +people, with an intrepid confidence in its own strength; which is +sufficiently numerous to feel all the passions which actuate a +multitude, yet not so numerous as to be incapable of pursuing the +objects of its passions, by means which reason prescribes; it is +against the enterprising ambition of this department that the +people ought to indulge all their jealousy and exhaust all their +precautions. The legislative department derives a superiority in +our governments from other circumstances. Its constitutional +powers being at once more extensive, and less susceptible of +precise limits, it can, with the greater facility, mask, under +complicated and indirect measures, the encroachments which it +makes on the co-ordinate departments. It is not unfrequently a +question of real nicety in legislative bodies, whether the +operation of a particular measure will, or will not, extend +beyond the legislative sphere. On the other side, the executive +power being restrained within a narrower compass, and being more +simple in its nature, and the judiciary being described by +landmarks still less uncertain, projects of usurpation by either +of these departments would immediately betray and defeat +themselves. Nor is this all: as the legislative department alone +has access to the pockets of the people, and has in some +constitutions full discretion, and in all a prevailing influence, +over the pecuniary rewards of those who fill the other +departments, a dependence is thus created in the latter, which +gives still greater facility to encroachments of the former. I +have appealed to our own experience for the truth of what I +advance on this subject. Were it necessary to verify this +experience by particular proofs, they might be multiplied +without end. I might find a witness in every citizen who has +shared in, or been attentive to, the course of public +administrations. I might collect vouchers in abundance from the +records and archives of every State in the Union. But as a more +concise, and at the same time equally satisfactory, evidence, I +will refer to the example of two States, attested by two +unexceptionable authorities. The first example is that of +Virginia, a State which, as we have seen, has expressly declared +in its constitution, that the three great departments ought not +to be intermixed. The authority in support of it is Mr. +Jefferson, who, besides his other advantages for remarking the +operation of the government, was himself the chief magistrate of +it. In order to convey fully the ideas with which his experience +had impressed him on this subject, it will be necessary to quote +a passage of some length from his very interesting ``Notes on the +State of Virginia,'' p. 195. ``All the powers of government, +legislative, executive, and judiciary, result to the legislative +body. The concentrating these in the same hands, is precisely the +definition of despotic government. It will be no alleviation, +that these powers will be exercised by a plurality of hands, and +not by a single one. One hundred and seventy-three despots would +surely be as oppressive as one. Let those who doubt it, turn +their eyes on the republic of Venice. As little will it avail us, +that they are chosen by ourselves. An ELECTIVE DESPOTISM was not +the government we fought for; but one which should not only be +founded on free principles, but in which the powers of government +should be so divided and balanced among several bodies of +magistracy, as that no one could transcend their legal limits, +without being effectually checked and restrained by the others. +For this reason, that convention which passed the ordinance of +government, laid its foundation on this basis, that the +legislative, executive, and judiciary departments should be +separate and distinct, so that no person should exercise the +powers of more than one of them at the same time. BUT NO BARRIER +WAS PROVIDED BETWEEN THESE SEVERAL POWERS. The judiciary and the +executive members were left dependent on the legislative for +their subsistence in office, and some of them for their +continuance in it. If, therefore, the legislature assumes +executive and judiciary powers, no opposition is likely to be +made; nor, if made, can be effectual; because in that case they +may put their proceedings into the form of acts of Assembly, +which will render them obligatory on the other branches. They +have accordingly, IN MANY instances, DECIDED RIGHTS which should +have been left to JUDICIARY CONTROVERSY, and THE DIRECTION OF THE +EXECUTIVE, DURING THE WHOLE TIME OF THEIR SESSION, IS BECOMING +HABITUAL AND FAMILIAR. ''The other State which I shall take for +an example is Pennsylvania; and the other authority, the Council +of Censors, which assembled in the years 1783 and 1784. A part of +the duty of this body, as marked out by the constitution, was +``to inquire whether the constitution had been preserved +inviolate in every part; and whether the legislative and +executive branches of government had performed their duty as +guardians of the people, or assumed to themselves, or exercised, +other or greater powers than they are entitled to by the +constitution. '' In the execution of this trust, the council were +necessarily led to a comparison of both the legislative and +executive proceedings, with the constitutional powers of these +departments; and from the facts enumerated, and to the truth of +most of which both sides in the council subscribed, it appears +that the constitution had been flagrantly violated by the +legislature in a variety of important instances. A great number +of laws had been passed, violating, without any apparent +necessity, the rule requiring that all bills of a public nature +shall be previously printed for the consideration of the people; +although this is one of the precautions chiefly relied on by the +constitution against improper acts of legislature. The +constitutional trial by jury had been violated, and powers +assumed which had not been delegated by the constitution. +Executive powers had been usurped. The salaries of the judges, +which the constitution expressly requires to be fixed, had been +occasionally varied; and cases belonging to the judiciary +department frequently drawn within legislative cognizance and +determination. Those who wish to see the several particulars +falling under each of these heads, may consult the journals of +the council, which are in print. Some of them, it will be found, +may be imputable to peculiar circumstances connected with the +war; but the greater part of them may be considered as the +spontaneous shoots of an ill-constituted government. It appears, +also, that the executive department had not been innocent of +frequent breaches of the constitution. There are three +observations, however, which ought to be made on this head: +FIRST, a great proportion of the instances were either +immediately produced by the necessities of the war, or +recommended by Congress or the commander-in-chief; SECONDLY, in +most of the other instances, they conformed either to the +declared or the known sentiments of the legislative department; +THIRDLY, the executive department of Pennsylvania is +distinguished from that of the other States by the number of +members composing it. In this respect, it has as much affinity +to a legislative assembly as to an executive council. And being +at once exempt from the restraint of an individual responsibility +for the acts of the body, and deriving confidence from mutual +example and joint influence, unauthorized measures would, of +course, be more freely hazarded, than where the executive +department is administered by a single hand, or by a few hands. +The conclusion which I am warranted in drawing from these +observations is, that a mere demarcation on parchment of the +constitutional limits of the several departments, is not a +sufficient guard against those encroachments which lead to a +tyrannical concentration of all the powers of government in the +same hands. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 49 + +Method of Guarding Against the Encroachments of Any One +Department of Government by Appealing to the People Through a +Convention +From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 5, 1788. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE author of the ``Notes on the State of Virginia,'' quoted in +the last paper, has subjoined to that valuable work the draught +of a constitution, which had been prepared in order to be laid +before a convention, expected to be called in 1783, by the +legislature, for the establishment of a constitution for that +commonwealth. The plan, like every thing from the same pen, marks +a turn of thinking, original, comprehensive, and accurate; and is +the more worthy of attention as it equally displays a fervent +attachment to republican government and an enlightened view of +the dangerous propensities against which it ought to be guarded. +One of the precautions which he proposes, and on which he appears +ultimately to rely as a palladium to the weaker departments of +power against the invasions of the stronger, is perhaps +altogether his own, and as it immediately relates to the subject +of our present inquiry, ought not to be overlooked. His +proposition is, ``that whenever any two of the three branches of +government shall concur in opinion, each by the voices of two +thirds of their whole number, that a convention is necessary for +altering the constitution, or CORRECTING BREACHES OF IT, a +convention shall be called for the purpose. ''As the people are +the only legitimate fountain of power, and it is from them that +the constitutional charter, under which the several branches of +government hold their power, is derived, it seems strictly +consonant to the republican theory, to recur to the same original +authority, not only whenever it may be necessary to enlarge, +diminish, or new-model the powers of the government, but also +whenever any one of the departments may commit encroachments on +the chartered authorities of the others. The several departments +being perfectly co-ordinate by the terms of their common +commission, none of them, it is evident, can pretend to an +exclusive or superior right of settling the boundaries between +their respective powers; and how are the encroachments of the +stronger to be prevented, or the wrongs of the weaker to be +redressed, without an appeal to the people themselves, who, as +the grantors of the commissions, can alone declare its true +meaning, and enforce its observance? There is certainly great +force in this reasoning, and it must be allowed to prove that a +constitutional road to the decision of the people ought to be +marked out and kept open, for certain great and extraordinary +occasions. But there appear to be insuperable objections against +the proposed recurrence to the people, as a provision in all +cases for keeping the several departments of power within their +constitutional limits. In the first place, the provision does not +reach the case of a combination of two of the departments against +the third. If the legislative authority, which possesses so many +means of operating on the motives of the other departments, +should be able to gain to its interest either of the others, or +even one third of its members, the remaining department could +derive no advantage from its remedial provision. I do not dwell, +however, on this objection, because it may be thought to be +rather against the modification of the principle, than against +the principle itself. In the next place, it may be considered as +an objection inherent in the principle, that as every appeal to +the people would carry an implication of some defect in the +government, frequent appeals would, in a great measure, deprive +the government of that veneration which time bestows on every +thing, and without which perhaps the wisest and freest +governments would not possess the requisite stability. If it be +true that all governments rest on opinion, it is no less true +that the strength of opinion in each individual, and its +practical influence on his conduct, depend much on the number +which he supposes to have entertained the same opinion. The +reason of man, like man himself, is timid and cautious when left +alone, and acquires firmness and confidence in proportion to the +number with which it is associated. When the examples which +fortify opinion are ANCIENT as well as NUMEROUS, they are known +to have a double effect. In a nation of philosophers, this +consideration ought to be disregarded. A reverence for the laws +would be sufficiently inculcated by the voice of an enlightened +reason. But a nation of philosophers is as little to be expected +as the philosophical race of kings wished for by Plato. And in +every other nation, the most rational government will not find it +a superfluous advantage to have the prejudices of the community +on its side. The danger of disturbing the public tranquillity by +interesting too strongly the public passions, is a still more +serious objection against a frequent reference of constitutional +questions to the decision of the whole society. Notwithstanding +the success which has attended the revisions of our established +forms of government, and which does so much honor to the virtue +and intelligence of the people of America, it must be confessed +that the experiments are of too ticklish a nature to be +unnecessarily multiplied. We are to recollect that all the +existing constitutions were formed in the midst of a danger which +repressed the passions most unfriendly to order and concord; of +an enthusiastic confidence of the people in their patriotic +leaders, which stifled the ordinary diversity of opinions on +great national questions; of a universal ardor for new and +opposite forms, produced by a universal resentment and +indignation against the ancient government; and whilst no spirit +of party connected with the changes to be made, or the abuses to +be reformed, could mingle its leaven in the operation. The future +situations in which we must expect to be usually placed, do not +present any equivalent security against the danger which is +apprehended. But the greatest objection of all is, that the +decisions which would probably result from such appeals would not +answer the purpose of maintaining the constitutional equilibrium +of the government. We have seen that the tendency of republican +governments is to an aggrandizement of the legislative at the +expense of the other departments. The appeals to the people, +therefore, would usually be made by the executive and judiciary +departments. But whether made by one side or the other, would +each side enjoy equal advantages on the trial? Let us view their +different situations. The members of the executive and judiciary +departments are few in number, and can be personally known to a +small part only of the people. The latter, by the mode of their +appointment, as well as by the nature and permanency of it, are +too far removed from the people to share much in their +prepossessions. The former are generally the objects of jealousy, +and their administration is always liable to be discolored and +rendered unpopular. The members of the legislative department, on +the other hand, are numberous. They are distributed and dwell +among the people at large. Their connections of blood, of +friendship, and of acquaintance embrace a great proportion of the +most influential part of the society. The nature of their public +trust implies a personal influence among the people, and that +they are more immediately the confidential guardians of the +rights and liberties of the people. With these advantages, it can +hardly be supposed that the adverse party would have an equal +chance for a favorable issue. But the legislative party would not +only be able to plead their cause most successfully with the +people. They would probably be constituted themselves the judges. +The same influence which had gained them an election into the +legislature, would gain them a seat in the convention. If this +should not be the case with all, it would probably be the case +with many, and pretty certainly with those leading characters, on +whom every thing depends in such bodies. The convention, in +short, would be composed chiefly of men who had been, who +actually were, or who expected to be, members of the department +whose conduct was arraigned. They would consequently be parties +to the very question to be decided by them. It might, however, +sometimes happen, that appeals would be made under circumstances +less adverse to the executive and judiciary departments. The +usurpations of the legislature might be so flagrant and so +sudden, as to admit of no specious coloring. A strong party +among themselves might take side with the other branches. The +executive power might be in the hands of a peculiar favorite of +the people. In such a posture of things, the public decision +might be less swayed by prepossessions in favor of the +legislative party. But still it could never be expected to turn +on the true merits of the question. It would inevitably be +connected with the spirit of pre-existing parties, or of parties +springing out of the question itself. It would be connected with +persons of distinguished character and extensive influence in the +community. It would be pronounced by the very men who had been +agents in, or opponents of, the measures to which the decision +would relate. The PASSIONS, therefore, not the REASON, of the +public would sit in judgment. But it is the reason, alone, of the +public, that ought to control and regulate the government. The +passions ought to be controlled and regulated by the government. +We found in the last paper, that mere declarations in the written +constitution are not sufficient to restrain the several +departments within their legal rights. It appears in this, that +occasional appeals to the people would be neither a proper nor an +effectual provision for that purpose. How far the provisions of a +different nature contained in the plan above quoted might be +adequate, I do not examine. Some of them are unquestionably +founded on sound political principles, and all of them are framed +with singular ingenuity and precision. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 50 + +Periodical Appeals to the People Considered +From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 5, 1788. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT MAY be contended, perhaps, that instead of OCCASIONAL appeals +to the people, which are liable to the objections urged against +them, PERIODICAL appeals are the proper and adequate means of +PREVENTING AND CORRECTING INFRACTIONS OF THE CONSTITUTION. It +will be attended to, that in the examination of these expedients, +I confine myself to their aptitude for ENFORCING the +Constitution, by keeping the several departments of power within +their due bounds, without particularly considering them as +provisions for ALTERING the Constitution itself. In the first +view, appeals to the people at fixed periods appear to be nearly +as ineligible as appeals on particular occasions as they emerge. +If the periods be separated by short intervals, the measures to +be reviewed and rectified will have been of recent date, and will +be connected with all the circumstances which tend to vitiate and +pervert the result of occasional revisions. If the periods be +distant from each other, the same remark will be applicable to +all recent measures; and in proportion as the remoteness of the +others may favor a dispassionate review of them, this advantage +is inseparable from inconveniences which seem to counterbalance +it. In the first place, a distant prospect of public censure +would be a very feeble restraint on power from those excesses to +which it might be urged by the force of present motives. Is it to +be imagined that a legislative assembly, consisting of a hundred +or two hundred members, eagerly bent on some favorite object, and +breaking through the restraints of the Constitution in pursuit of +it, would be arrested in their career, by considerations drawn +from a censorial revision of their conduct at the future distance +of ten, fifteen, or twenty years? In the next place, the abuses +would often have completed their mischievous effects before the +remedial provision would be applied. And in the last place, where +this might not be the case, they would be of long standing, would +have taken deep root, and would not easily be extirpated. The +scheme of revising the constitution, in order to correct recent +breaches of it, as well as for other purposes, has been actually +tried in one of the States. One of the objects of the Council of +Censors which met in Pennsylvania in 1783 and 1784, was, as we +have seen, to inquire, ``whether the constitution had been +violated, and whether the legislative and executive departments +had encroached upon each other. '' This important and novel +experiment in politics merits, in several points of view, very +particular attention. In some of them it may, perhaps, as a +single experiment, made under circumstances somewhat peculiar, be +thought to be not absolutely conclusive. But as applied to the +case under consideration, it involves some facts, which I venture +to remark, as a complete and satisfactory illustration of the +reasoning which I have employed. First. It appears, from the +names of the gentlemen who composed the council, that some, at +least, of its most active members had also been active and +leading characters in the parties which pre-existed in the State. +Secondly. It appears that the same active and leading members of +the council had been active and influential members of the +legislative and executive branches, within the period to be +reviewed; and even patrons or opponents of the very measures to +be thus brought to the test of the constitution. Two of the +members had been vice-presidents of the State, and several other +members of the executive council, within the seven preceding +years. One of them had been speaker, and a number of others +distinguished members, of the legislative assembly within the +same period. Thirdly. Every page of their proceedings witnesses +the effect of all these circumstances on the temper of their +deliberations. Throughout the continuance of the council, it was +split into two fixed and violent parties. The fact is +acknowledged and lamented by themselves. Had this not been the +case, the face of their proceedings exhibits a proof equally +satisfactory. In all questions, however unimportant in +themselves, or unconnected with each other, the same names stand +invariably contrasted on the opposite columns. Every unbiased +observer may infer, without danger of mistake, and at the same +time without meaning to reflect on either party, or any +individuals of either party, that, unfortunately, PASSION, not +REASON, must have presided over their decisions. When men +exercise their reason coolly and freely on a variety of distinct +questions, they inevitably fall into different opinions on some +of them. When they are governed by a common passion, their +opinions, if they are so to be called, will be the same. +Fourthly. It is at least problematical, whether the decisions of +this body do not, in several instances, misconstrue the limits +prescribed for the legislative and executive departments, instead +of reducing and limiting them within their constitutional places. +Fifthly. I have never understood that the decisions of the +council on constitutional questions, whether rightly or +erroneously formed, have had any effect in varying the practice +founded on legislative constructions. It even appears, if I +mistake not, that in one instance the contemporary legislature +denied the constructions of the council, and actually prevailed +in the contest. This censorial body, therefore, proves at the +same time, by its researches, the existence of the disease, and +by its example, the inefficacy of the remedy. This conclusion +cannot be invalidated by alleging that the State in which the +experiment was made was at that crisis, and had been for a long +time before, violently heated and distracted by the rage of +party. Is it to be presumed, that at any future septennial epoch +the same State will be free from parties? Is it to be presumed +that any other State, at the same or any other given period, will +be exempt from them? Such an event ought to be neither presumed +nor desired; because an extinction of parties necessarily implies +either a universal alarm for the public safety, or an absolute +extinction of liberty. Were the precaution taken of excluding +from the assemblies elected by the people, to revise the +preceding administration of the government, all persons who +should have been concerned with the government within the given +period, the difficulties would not be obviated. The important +task would probably devolve on men, who, with inferior +capacities, would in other respects be little better qualified. +Although they might not have been personally concerned in the +administration, and therefore not immediately agents in the +measures to be examined, they would probably have been involved +in the parties connected with these measures, and have been +elected under their auspices. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 51 + +The Structure of the Government Must Furnish the Proper Checks +and Balances Between the Different Departments +From the New York Packet. Friday, February 8, 1788. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +TO WHAT expedient, then, shall we finally resort, for maintaining +in practice the necessary partition of power among the several +departments, as laid down in the Constitution? The only answer +that can be given is, that as all these exterior provisions are +found to be inadequate, the defect must be supplied, by so +contriving the interior structure of the government as that its +several constituent parts may, by their mutual relations, be the +means of keeping each other in their proper places. Without +presuming to undertake a full development of this important idea, +I will hazard a few general observations, which may perhaps place +it in a clearer light, and enable us to form a more correct +judgment of the principles and structure of the government +planned by the convention. In order to lay a due foundation for +that separate and distinct exercise of the different powers of +government, which to a certain extent is admitted on all hands to +be essential to the preservation of liberty, it is evident that +each department should have a will of its own; and consequently +should be so constituted that the members of each should have as +little agency as possible in the appointment of the members of +the others. Were this principle rigorously adhered to, it would +require that all the appointments for the supreme executive, +legislative, and judiciary magistracies should be drawn from the +same fountain of authority, the people, through channels having +no communication whatever with one another. Perhaps such a plan +of constructing the several departments would be less difficult +in practice than it may in contemplation appear. Some +difficulties, however, and some additional expense would attend +the execution of it. Some deviations, therefore, from the +principle must be admitted. In the constitution of the judiciary +department in particular, it might be inexpedient to insist +rigorously on the principle: first, because peculiar +qualifications being essential in the members, the primary +consideration ought to be to select that mode of choice which +best secures these qualifications; secondly, because the +permanent tenure by which the appointments are held in that +department, must soon destroy all sense of dependence on the +authority conferring them. It is equally evident, that the +members of each department should be as little dependent as +possible on those of the others, for the emoluments annexed to +their offices. Were the executive magistrate, or the judges, not +independent of the legislature in this particular, their +independence in every other would be merely nominal. But the +great security against a gradual concentration of the several +powers in the same department, consists in giving to those who +administer each department the necessary constitutional means and +personal motives to resist encroachments of the others. The +provision for defense must in this, as in all other cases, be +made commensurate to the danger of attack. Ambition must be made +to counteract ambition. The interest of the man must be +connected with the constitutional rights of the place. It may be +a reflection on human nature, that such devices should be +necessary to control the abuses of government. But what is +government itself, but the greatest of all reflections on human +nature? If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If +angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal +controls on government would be necessary. In framing a +government which is to be administered by men over men, the great +difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to +control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control +itself. A dependence on the people is, no doubt, the primary +control on the government; but experience has taught mankind the +necessity of auxiliary precautions. This policy of supplying, by +opposite and rival interests, the defect of better motives, might +be traced through the whole system of human affairs, private as +well as public. We see it particularly displayed in all the +subordinate distributions of power, where the constant aim is to +divide and arrange the several offices in such a manner as that +each may be a check on the other that the private interest of +every individual may be a sentinel over the public rights. These +inventions of prudence cannot be less requisite in the +distribution of the supreme powers of the State. But it is not +possible to give to each department an equal power of +self-defense. In republican government, the legislative +authority necessarily predominates. The remedy for this +inconveniency is to divide the legislature into different +branches; and to render them, by different modes of election and +different principles of action, as little connected with each +other as the nature of their common functions and their common +dependence on the society will admit. It may even be necessary +to guard against dangerous encroachments by still further +precautions. As the weight of the legislative authority requires +that it should be thus divided, the weakness of the executive may +require, on the other hand, that it should be fortified. An +absolute negative on the legislature appears, at first view, to +be the natural defense with which the executive magistrate should +be armed. But perhaps it would be neither altogether safe nor +alone sufficient. On ordinary occasions it might not be exerted +with the requisite firmness, and on extraordinary occasions it +might be perfidiously abused. May not this defect of an absolute +negative be supplied by some qualified connection between this +weaker department and the weaker branch of the stronger +department, by which the latter may be led to support the +constitutional rights of the former, without being too much +detached from the rights of its own department? If the principles +on which these observations are founded be just, as I persuade +myself they are, and they be applied as a criterion to the +several State constitutions, and to the federal Constitution it +will be found that if the latter does not perfectly correspond +with them, the former are infinitely less able to bear such a +test. There are, moreover, two considerations particularly +applicable to the federal system of America, which place that +system in a very interesting point of view. First. In a single +republic, all the power surrendered by the people is submitted to +the administration of a single government; and the usurpations +are guarded against by a division of the government into distinct +and separate departments. In the compound republic of America, +the power surrendered by the people is first divided between two +distinct governments, and then the portion allotted to each +subdivided among distinct and separate departments. Hence a +double security arises to the rights of the people. The different +governments will control each other, at the same time that each +will be controlled by itself. Second. It is of great importance +in a republic not only to guard the society against the +oppression of its rulers, but to guard one part of the society +against the injustice of the other part. Different interests +necessarily exist in different classes of citizens. If a +majority be united by a common interest, the rights of the +minority will be insecure. There are but two methods of +providing against this evil: the one by creating a will in the +community independent of the majority that is, of the society +itself; the other, by comprehending in the society so many +separate descriptions of citizens as will render an unjust +combination of a majority of the whole very improbable, if not +impracticable. The first method prevails in all governments +possessing an hereditary or self-appointed authority. This, at +best, is but a precarious security; because a power independent +of the society may as well espouse the unjust views of the major, +as the rightful interests of the minor party, and may possibly be +turned against both parties. The second method will be +exemplified in the federal republic of the United States. Whilst +all authority in it will be derived from and dependent on the +society, the society itself will be broken into so many parts, +interests, and classes of citizens, that the rights of +individuals, or of the minority, will be in little danger from +interested combinations of the majority. In a free government +the security for civil rights must be the same as that for +religious rights. It consists in the one case in the +multiplicity of interests, and in the other in the multiplicity +of sects. The degree of security in both cases will depend on +the number of interests and sects; and this may be presumed to +depend on the extent of country and number of people comprehended +under the same government. This view of the subject must +particularly recommend a proper federal system to all the sincere +and considerate friends of republican government, since it shows +that in exact proportion as the territory of the Union may be +formed into more circumscribed Confederacies, or States +oppressive combinations of a majority will be facilitated: the +best security, under the republican forms, for the rights of +every class of citizens, will be diminished: and consequently the +stability and independence of some member of the government, the +only other security, must be proportionately increased. Justice +is the end of government. It is the end of civil society. It +ever has been and ever will be pursued until it be obtained, or +until liberty be lost in the pursuit. In a society under the +forms of which the stronger faction can readily unite and oppress +the weaker, anarchy may as truly be said to reign as in a state +of nature, where the weaker individual is not secured against the +violence of the stronger; and as, in the latter state, even the +stronger individuals are prompted, by the uncertainty of their +condition, to submit to a government which may protect the weak +as well as themselves; so, in the former state, will the more +powerful factions or parties be gradually induced, by a like +motive, to wish for a government which will protect all parties, +the weaker as well as the more powerful. It can be little +doubted that if the State of Rhode Island was separated from the +Confederacy and left to itself, the insecurity of rights under +the popular form of government within such narrow limits would be +displayed by such reiterated oppressions of factious majorities +that some power altogether independent of the people would soon +be called for by the voice of the very factions whose misrule had +proved the necessity of it. In the extended republic of the +United States, and among the great variety of interests, parties, +and sects which it embraces, a coalition of a majority of the +whole society could seldom take place on any other principles +than those of justice and the general good; whilst there being +thus less danger to a minor from the will of a major party, there +must be less pretext, also, to provide for the security of the +former, by introducing into the government a will not dependent +on the latter, or, in other words, a will independent of the +society itself. It is no less certain than it is important, +notwithstanding the contrary opinions which have been +entertained, that the larger the society, provided it lie within +a practical sphere, the more duly capable it will be of +self-government. And happily for the REPUBLICAN CAUSE, the +practicable sphere may be carried to a very great extent, by a +judicious modification and mixture of the FEDERAL PRINCIPLE. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 52 + +The House of Representatives +From the New York Packet. Friday, February 8, 1788. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +FROM the more general inquiries pursued in the four last papers, +I pass on to a more particular examination of the several parts +of the government. I shall begin with the House of +Representatives. The first view to be taken of this part of the +government relates to the qualifications of the electors and the +elected. Those of the former are to be the same with those of the +electors of the most numerous branch of the State legislatures. +The definition of the right of suffrage is very justly regarded +as a fundamental article of republican government. It was +incumbent on the convention, therefore, to define and establish +this right in the Constitution. To have left it open for the +occasional regulation of the Congress, would have been improper +for the reason just mentioned. To have submitted it to the +legislative discretion of the States, would have been improper +for the same reason; and for the additional reason that it would +have rendered too dependent on the State governments that branch +of the federal government which ought to be dependent on the +people alone. To have reduced the different qualifications in the +different States to one uniform rule, would probably have been as +dissatisfactory to some of the States as it would have been +difficult to the convention. The provision made by the convention +appears, therefore, to be the best that lay within their option. +It must be satisfactory to every State, because it is conformable +to the standard already established, or which may be established, +by the State itself. It will be safe to the United States, +because, being fixed by the State constitutions, it is not +alterable by the State governments, and it cannot be feared that +the people of the States will alter this part of their +constitutions in such a manner as to abridge the rights secured +to them by the federal Constitution. The qualifications of the +elected, being less carefully and properly defined by the State +constitutions, and being at the same time more susceptible of +uniformity, have been very properly considered and regulated by +the convention. A representative of the United States must be of +the age of twenty-five years; must have been seven years a +citizen of the United States; must, at the time of his election, +be an inhabitant of the State he is to represent; and, during the +time of his service, must be in no office under the United +States. Under these reasonable limitations, the door of this part +of the federal government is open to merit of every description, +whether native or adoptive, whether young or old, and without +regard to poverty or wealth, or to any particular profession of +religious faith. The term for which the representatives are to be +elected falls under a second view which may be taken of this +branch. In order to decide on the propriety of this article, two +questions must be considered: first, whether biennial elections +will, in this case, be safe; secondly, whether they be necessary +or useful. First. As it is essential to liberty that the +government in general should have a common interest with the +people, so it is particularly essential that the branch of it +under consideration should have an immediate dependence on, and +an intimate sympathy with, the people. Frequent elections are +unquestionably the only policy by which this dependence and +sympathy can be effectually secured. But what particular degree +of frequency may be absolutely necessary for the purpose, does +not appear to be susceptible of any precise calculation, and must +depend on a variety of circumstances with which it may be +connected. Let us consult experience, the guide that ought always +to be followed whenever it can be found. The scheme of +representation, as a substitute for a meeting of the citizens in +person, being at most but very imperfectly known to ancient +polity, it is in more modern times only that we are to expect +instructive examples. And even here, in order to avoid a research +too vague and diffusive, it will be proper to confine ourselves +to the few examples which are best known, and which bear the +greatest analogy to our particular case. The first to which this +character ought to be applied, is the House of Commons in Great +Britain. The history of this branch of the English Constitution, +anterior to the date of Magna Charta, is too obscure to yield +instruction. The very existence of it has been made a question +among political antiquaries. The earliest records of subsequent +date prove that parliaments were to SIT only every year; not that +they were to be ELECTED every year. And even these annual +sessions were left so much at the discretion of the monarch, +that, under various pretexts, very long and dangerous +intermissions were often contrived by royal ambition. To remedy +this grievance, it was provided by a statute in the reign of +Charles II. , that the intermissions should not be protracted +beyond a period of three years. On the accession of William III., +when a revolution took place in the government, the subject was +still more seriously resumed, and it was declared to be among the +fundamental rights of the people that parliaments ought to be +held FREQUENTLY. By another statute, which passed a few years +later in the same reign, the term ``frequently,'' which had +alluded to the triennial period settled in the time of Charles +II., is reduced to a precise meaning, it being expressly enacted +that a new parliament shall be called within three years after +the termination of the former. The last change, from three to +seven years, is well known to have been introduced pretty early +in the present century, under on alarm for the Hanoverian +succession. From these facts it appears that the greatest +frequency of elections which has been deemed necessary in that +kingdom, for binding the representatives to their constituents, +does not exceed a triennial return of them. And if we may argue +from the degree of liberty retained even under septennial +elections, and all the other vicious ingredients in the +parliamentary constitution, we cannot doubt that a reduction of +the period from seven to three years, with the other necessary +reforms, would so far extend the influence of the people over +their representatives as to satisfy us that biennial elections, +under the federal system, cannot possibly be dangerous to the +requisite dependence of the House of Representatives on their +constituents. Elections in Ireland, till of late, were regulated +entirely by the discretion of the crown, and were seldom +repeated, except on the accession of a new prince, or some other +contingent event. The parliament which commenced with George II. +was continued throughout his whole reign, a period of about +thirty-five years. The only dependence of the representatives on +the people consisted in the right of the latter to supply +occasional vacancies by the election of new members, and in the +chance of some event which might produce a general new election. +The ability also of the Irish parliament to maintain the rights +of their constituents, so far as the disposition might exist, was +extremely shackled by the control of the crown over the subjects +of their deliberation. Of late these shackles, if I mistake not, +have been broken; and octennial parliaments have besides been +established. What effect may be produced by this partial reform, +must be left to further experience. The example of Ireland, from +this view of it, can throw but little light on the subject. As +far as we can draw any conclusion from it, it must be that if the +people of that country have been able under all these +disadvantages to retain any liberty whatever, the advantage of +biennial elections would secure to them every degree of liberty, +which might depend on a due connection between their +representatives and themselves. Let us bring our inquiries nearer +home. The example of these States, when British colonies, claims +particular attention, at the same time that it is so well known +as to require little to be said on it. The principle of +representation, in one branch of the legislature at least, was +established in all of them. But the periods of election were +different. They varied from one to seven years. Have we any +reason to infer, from the spirit and conduct of the +representatives of the people, prior to the Revolution, that +biennial elections would have been dangerous to the public +liberties? The spirit which everywhere displayed itself at the +commencement of the struggle, and which vanquished the obstacles +to independence, is the best of proofs that a sufficient portion +of liberty had been everywhere enjoyed to inspire both a sense of +its worth and a zeal for its proper enlargement This remark holds +good, as well with regard to the then colonies whose elections +were least frequent, as to those whose elections were most +frequent Virginia was the colony which stood first in resisting +the parliamentary usurpations of Great Britain; it was the first +also in espousing, by public act, the resolution of independence. +In Virginia, nevertheless, if I have not been misinformed, +elections under the former government were septennial. This +particular example is brought into view, not as a proof of any +peculiar merit, for the priority in those instances was probably +accidental; and still less of any advantage in SEPTENNIAL +elections, for when compared with a greater frequency they are +inadmissible; but merely as a proof, and I conceive it to be a +very substantial proof, that the liberties of the people can be +in no danger from BIENNIAL elections. The conclusion resulting +from these examples will be not a little strengthened by +recollecting three circumstances. The first is, that the federal +legislature will possess a part only of that supreme legislative +authority which is vested completely in the British Parliament; +and which, with a few exceptions, was exercised by the colonial +assemblies and the Irish legislature. It is a received and +well-founded maxim, that where no other circumstances affect the +case, the greater the power is, the shorter ought to be its +duration; and, conversely, the smaller the power, the more safely +may its duration be protracted. In the second place, it has, on +another occasion, been shown that the federal legislature will +not only be restrained by its dependence on its people, as other +legislative bodies are, but that it will be, moreover, watched +and controlled by the several collateral legislatures, which +other legislative bodies are not. And in the third place, no +comparison can be made between the means that will be possessed +by the more permanent branches of the federal government for +seducing, if they should be disposed to seduce, the House of +Representatives from their duty to the people, and the means of +influence over the popular branch possessed by the other branches +of the government above cited. With less power, therefore, to +abuse, the federal representatives can be less tempted on one +side, and will be doubly watched on the other. PUBLIUS. + +FEDERALIST No. 53 + +The Same Subject Continued (The House of Representatives) +From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 12, 1788. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +I SHALL here, perhaps, be reminded of a current observation, +``that where annual elections end, tyranny begins. '' If it be +true, as has often been remarked, that sayings which become +proverbial are generally founded in reason, it is not less true, +that when once established, they are often applied to cases to +which the reason of them does not extend. I need not look for a +proof beyond the case before us. What is the reason on which this +proverbial observation is founded? No man will subject himself to +the ridicule of pretending that any natural connection subsists +between the sun or the seasons, and the period within which human +virtue can bear the temptations of power. Happily for mankind, +liberty is not, in this respect, confined to any single point of +time; but lies within extremes, which afford sufficient latitude +for all the variations which may be required by the various +situations and circumstances of civil society. The election of +magistrates might be, if it were found expedient, as in some +instances it actually has been, daily, weekly, or monthly, as +well as annual; and if circumstances may require a deviation from +the rule on one side, why not also on the other side? Turning our +attention to the periods established among ourselves, for the +election of the most numerous branches of the State legislatures, +we find them by no means coinciding any more in this instance, +than in the elections of other civil magistrates. In Connecticut +and Rhode Island, the periods are half-yearly. In the other +States, South Carolina excepted, they are annual. In South +Carolina they are biennial as is proposed in the federal +government. Here is a difference, as four to one, between the +longest and shortest periods; and yet it would be not easy to +show, that Connecticut or Rhode Island is better governed, or +enjoys a greater share of rational liberty, than South Carolina; +or that either the one or the other of these States is +distinguished in these respects, and by these causes, from the +States whose elections are different from both. In searching for +the grounds of this doctrine, I can discover but one, and that is +wholly inapplicable to our case. The important distinction so +well understood in America, between a Constitution established by +the people and unalterable by the government, and a law +established by the government and alterable by the government, +seems to have been little understood and less observed in any +other country. Wherever the supreme power of legislation has +resided, has been supposed to reside also a full power to change +the form of the government. Even in Great Britain, where the +principles of political and civil liberty have been most +discussed, and where we hear most of the rights of the +Constitution, it is maintained that the authority of the +Parliament is transcendent and uncontrollable, as well with +regard to the Constitution, as the ordinary objects of +legislative provision. They have accordingly, in several +instances, actually changed, by legislative acts, some of the +most fundamental articles of the government. They have in +particular, on several occasions, changed the period of election; +and, on the last occasion, not only introduced septennial in +place of triennial elections, but by the same act, continued +themselves in place four years beyond the term for which they +were elected by the people. An attention to these dangerous +practices has produced a very natural alarm in the votaries of +free government, of which frequency of elections is the +corner-stone; and has led them to seek for some security to +liberty, against the danger to which it is exposed. Where no +Constitution, paramount to the government, either existed or +could be obtained, no constitutional security, similar to that +established in the United States, was to be attempted. Some +other security, therefore, was to be sought for; and what better +security would the case admit, than that of selecting and +appealing to some simple and familiar portion of time, as a +standard for measuring the danger of innovations, for fixing the +national sentiment, and for uniting the patriotic exertions? The +most simple and familiar portion of time, applicable to the +subject was that of a year; and hence the doctrine has been +inculcated by a laudable zeal, to erect some barrier against the +gradual innovations of an unlimited government, that the advance +towards tyranny was to be calculated by the distance of departure +from the fixed point of annual elections. But what necessity can +there be of applying this expedient to a government limited, as +the federal government will be, by the authority of a paramount +Constitution? Or who will pretend that the liberties of the +people of America will not be more secure under biennial +elections, unalterably fixed by such a Constitution, than those +of any other nation would be, where elections were annual, or +even more frequent, but subject to alterations by the ordinary +power of the government? The second question stated is, whether +biennial elections be necessary or useful. The propriety of +answering this question in the affirmative will appear from +several very obvious considerations. + No man can be a +competent legislator who does not add to an upright intention and +a sound judgment a certain degree of knowledge of the subjects on +which he is to legislate. A part of this knowledge may be +acquired by means of information which lie within the compass of +men in private as well as public stations. Another part can only +be attained, or at least thoroughly attained, by actual +experience in the station which requires the use of it. The +period of service, ought, therefore, in all such cases, to bear +some proportion to the extent of practical knowledge requisite to +the due performance of the service. The period of legislative +service established in most of the States for the more numerous +branch is, as we have seen, one year. The question then may be +put into this simple form: does the period of two years bear no +greater proportion to the knowledge requisite for federal +legislation than one year does to the knowledge requisite for +State legislation? The very statement of the question, in this +form, suggests the answer that ought to be given to it. In a +single State, the requisite knowledge relates to the existing +laws which are uniform throughout the State, and with which all +the citizens are more or less conversant; and to the general +affairs of the State, which lie within a small compass, are not +very diversified, and occupy much of the attention and +conversation of every class of people. The great theatre of the +United States presents a very different scene. The laws are so +far from being uniform, that they vary in every State; whilst the +public affairs of the Union are spread throughout a very +extensive region, and are extremely diversified by t e local +affairs connected with them, and can with difficulty be correctly +learnt in any other place than in the central councils to which a +knowledge of them will be brought by the representatives of every +part of the empire. Yet some knowledge of the affairs, and even +of the laws, of all the States, ought to be possessed by the +members from each of the States. How can foreign trade be +properly regulated by uniform laws, without some acquaintance +with the commerce, the ports, the usages, and the regulatious of +the different States? How can the trade between the different +States be duly regulated, without some knowledge of their +relative situations in these and other respects? How can taxes +be judiciously imposed and effectually collected, if they be not +accommodated to the different laws and local circumstances +relating to these objects in the different States? How can +uniform regulations for the militia be duly provided, without a +similar knowledge of many internal circumstances by which the +States are distinguished from each other? These are the +principal objects of federal legislation, and suggest most +forcibly the extensive information which the representatives +ought to acquire. The other interior objects will require a +proportional degree of information with regard to them. It is +true that all these difficulties will, by degrees, be very much +diminished. The most laborious task will be the proper +inauguration of the government and the primeval formation of a +federal code. Improvements on the first draughts will every year +become both easier and fewer. Past transactions of the +government will be a ready and accurate source of information to +new members. The affairs of the Union will become more and more +objects of curiosity and conversation among the citizens at +large. And the increased intercourse among those of different +States will contribute not a little to diffuse a mutual knowledge +of their affairs, as this again will contribute to a general +assimilation of their manners and laws. But with all these +abatements, the business of federal legislation must continue so +far to exceed, both in novelty and difficulty, the legislative +business of a single State, as to justify the longer period of +service assigned to those who are to transact it. A branch of +knowledge which belongs to the acquirements of a federal +representative, and which has not been mentioned is that of +foreign affairs. In regulating our own commerce he ought to be +not only acquainted with the treaties between the United States +and other nations, but also with the commercial policy and laws +of other nations. He ought not to be altogether ignorant of the +law of nations; for that, as far as it is a proper object of +municipal legislation, is submitted to the federal government. +And although the House of Representatives is not immediately to +participate in foreign negotiations and arrangements, yet from +the necessary connection between the several branches of public +affairs, those particular branches will frequently deserve +attention in the ordinary course of legislation, and will +sometimes demand particular legislative sanction and +co-operation. Some portion of this knowledge may, no doubt, be +acquired in a man's closet; but some of it also can only be +derived from the public sources of information; and all of it +will be acquired to best effect by a practical attention to the +subject during the period of actual service in the legislature. +There are other considerations, of less importance, perhaps, but +which are not unworthy of notice. The distance which many of the +representatives will be obliged to travel, and the arrangements +rendered necessary by that circumstance, might be much more +serious objections with fit men to this service, if limited to a +single year, than if extended to two years. No argument can be +drawn on this subject, from the case of the delegates to the +existing Congress. They are elected annually, it is true; but +their re-election is considered by the legislative assemblies +almost as a matter of course. The election of the representatives +by the people would not be governed by the same principle. A few +of the members, as happens in all such assemblies, will possess +superior talents; will, by frequent reelections, become members +of long standing; will be thoroughly masters of the public +business, and perhaps not unwilling to avail themselves of those +advantages. The greater the proportion of new members, and the +less the information of the bulk of the members the more apt will +they be to fall into the snares that may be laid for them. This +remark is no less applicable to the relation which will subsist +between the House of Representatives and the Senate. It is an +inconvenience mingled with the advantages of our frequent +elections even in single States, where they are large, and hold +but one legislative session in a year, that spurious elections +cannot be investigated and annulled in time for the decision to +have its due effect. If a return can be obtained, no matter by +what unlawful means, the irregular member, who takes his seat of +course, is sure of holding it a sufficient time to answer his +purposes. Hence, a very pernicious encouragement is given to the +use of unlawful means, for obtaining irregular returns. Were +elections for the federal legislature to be annual, this practice +might become a very serious abuse, particularly in the more +distant States. Each house is, as it necessarily must be, the +judge of the elections, qualifications, and returns of its +members; and whatever improvements may be suggested by +experience, for simplifying and accelerating the process in +disputed cases, so great a portion of a year would unavoidably +elapse, before an illegitimate member could be dispossessed of +his seat, that the prospect of such an event would be little +check to unfair and illicit means of obtaining a seat. All these +considerations taken together warrant us in affirming, that +biennial elections will be as useful to the affairs of the public +as we have seen that they will be safe to the liberty of the +people. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 54 + +The Apportionment of Members Among the States + +From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 12, 1788. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE next view which I shall take of the House of Representatives +relates to the appointment of its members to the several States +which is to be determined by the same rule with that of direct +taxes. + It is not contended that the number of people in each +State ought not to be the standard for regulating the proportion +of those who are to represent the people of each State. The +establishment of the same rule for the appointment of taxes, will +probably be as little contested; though the rule itself in this +case, is by no means founded on the same principle. In the former +case, the rule is understood to refer to the personal rights of +the people, with which it has a natural and universal connection. +In the latter, it has reference to the proportion of wealth, of +which it is in no case a precise measure, and in ordinary cases a +very unfit one. But notwithstanding the imperfection of the rule +as applied to the relative wealth and contributions of the +States, it is evidently the least objectionable among the +practicable rules, and had too recently obtained the general +sanction of America, not to have found a ready preference with +the convention. All this is admitted, it will perhaps be said; +but does it follow, from an admission of numbers for the measure +of representation, or of slaves combined with free citizens as a +ratio of taxation, that slaves ought to be included in the +numerical rule of representation? Slaves are considered as +property, not as persons. They ought therefore to be comprehended +in estimates of taxation which are founded on property, and to be +excluded from representation which is regulated by a census of +persons. This is the objection, as I understand it, stated in its +full force. I shall be equally candid in stating the reasoning +which may be offered on the opposite side. ``We subscribe to the +doctrine,'' might one of our Southern brethren observe, ``that +representation relates more immediately to persons, and taxation +more immediately to property, and we join in the application of +this distinction to the case of our slaves. But we must deny the +fact, that slaves are considered merely as property, and in no +respect whatever as persons. The true state of the case is, that +they partake of both these qualities: being considered by our +laws, in some respects, as persons, and in other respects as +property. In being compelled to labor, not for himself, but for +a master; in being vendible by one master to another master; and +in being subject at all times to be restrained in his liberty and +chastised in his body, by the capricious will of another, the +slave may appear to be degraded from the human rank, and classed +with those irrational animals which fall under the legal +denomination of property. In being protected, on the other hand, +in his life and in his limbs, against the violence of all +others, even the master of his labor and his liberty; and in +being punishable himself for all violence committed against +others, the slave is no less evidently regarded by the law as a +member of the society, not as a part of the irrational creation; +as a moral person, not as a mere article of property. The +federal Constitution, therefore, decides with great propriety on +the case of our slaves, when it views them in the mixed character +of persons and of property. This is in fact their true +character. It is the character bestowed on them by the laws +under which they live; and it will not be denied, that these are +the proper criterion; because it is only under the pretext that +the laws have transformed the negroes into subjects of property, +that a place is disputed them in the computation of numbers; and +it is admitted, that if the laws were to restore the rights which +have been taken away, the negroes could no longer be refused an +equal share of representation with the other inhabitants. ``This +question may be placed in another light. It is agreed on all +sides, that numbers are the best scale of wealth and taxation, as +they are the only proper scale of representation. Would the +convention have been impartial or consistent, if they had +rejected the slaves from the list of inhabitants, when the shares +of representation were to be calculated, and inserted them on the +lists when the tariff of contributions was to be adjusted? Could +it be reasonably expected, that the Southern States would concur +in a system, which considered their slaves in some degree as men, +when burdens were to be imposed, but refused to consider them in +the same light, when advantages were to be conferred? Might not +some surprise also be expressed, that those who reproach the +Southern States with the barbarous policy of considering as +property a part of their human brethren, should themselves +contend, that the government to which all the States are to be +parties, ought to consider this unfortunate race more completely +in the unnatural light of property, than the very laws of which +they complain? ``It may be replied, perhaps, that slaves are not +included in the estimate of representatives in any of the States +possessing them. They neither vote themselves nor increase the +votes of their masters. Upon what principle, then, ought they to +be taken into the federal estimate of representation? In +rejecting them altogether, the Constitution would, in this +respect, have followed the very laws which have been appealed to +as the proper guide. ``This objection is repelled by a single +observation. It is a fundamental principle of the proposed +Constitution, that as the aggregate number of representatives +allotted to the several States is to be determined by a federal +rule, founded on the aggregate number of inhabitants, so the +right of choosing this allotted number in each State is to be +exercised by such part of the inhabitants as the State itself may +designate. The qualifications on which the right of suffrage +depend are not, perhaps, the same in any two States. In some of +the States the difference is very material. In every State, a +certain proportion of inhabitants are deprived of this right by +the constitution of the State, who will be included in the census +by which the federal Constitution apportions the representatives. +In this point of view the Southern States might retort the +complaint, by insisting that the principle laid down by the +convention required that no regard should be had to the policy of +particular States towards their own inhabitants; and +consequently, that the slaves, as inhabitants, should have been +admitted into the census according to their full number, in like +manner with other inhabitants, who, by the policy of other +States, are not admitted to all the rights of citizens. A +rigorous adherence, however, to this principle, is waived by +those who would be gainers by it. All that they ask is that +equal moderation be shown on the other side. Let the case of the +slaves be considered, as it is in truth, a peculiar one. Let the +compromising expedient of the Constitution be mutually adopted, +which regards them as inhabitants, but as debased by servitude +below the equal level of free inhabitants, which regards the +SLAVE as divested of two fifths of the MAN. ``After all, may not +another ground be taken on which this article of the +Constitution will admit of a still more ready defense? We have +hitherto proceeded on the idea that representation related to +persons only, and not at all to property. But is it a just idea? +Government is instituted no less for protection of the property, +than of the persons, of individuals. The one as well as the +other, therefore, may be considered as represented by those who +are charged with the government. Upon this principle it is, that +in several of the States, and particularly in the State of New +York, one branch of the government is intended more especially to +be the guardian of property, and is accordingly elected by that +part of the society which is most interested in this object of +government. In the federal Constitution, this policy does not +prevail. The rights of property are committed into the same hands +with the personal rights. Some attention ought, therefore, to be +paid to property in the choice of those hands. ``For another +reason, the votes allowed in the federal legislature to the +people of each State, ought to bear some proportion to the +comparative wealth of the States. States have not, like +individuals, an influence over each other, arising from superior +advantages of fortune. If the law allows an opulent citizen but a +single vote in the choice of his representative, the respect and +consequence which he derives from his fortunate situation very +frequently guide the votes of others to the objects of his +choice; and through this imperceptible channel the rights of +property are conveyed into the public representation. A State +possesses no such influence over other States. It is not probable +that the richest State in the Confederacy will ever influence the +choice of a single representative in any other State. Nor will +the representatives of the larger and richer States possess any +other advantage in the federal legislature, over the +representatives of other States, than what may result from their +superior number alone. As far, therefore, as their superior +wealth and weight may justly entitle them to any advantage, it +ought to be secured to them by a superior share of +representation. The new Constitution is, in this respect, +materially different from the existing Confederation, as well as +from that of the United Netherlands, and other similar +confederacies. In each of the latter, the efficacy of the +federal resolutions depends on the subsequent and voluntary +resolutions of the states composing the union. Hence the states, +though possessing an equal vote in the public councils, have an +unequal influence, corresponding with the unequal importance of +these subsequent and voluntary resolutions. Under the proposed +Constitution, the federal acts will take effect without the +necessary intervention of the individual States. They will depend +merely on the majority of votes in the federal legislature, and +consequently each vote, whether proceeding from a larger or +smaller State, or a State more or less wealthy or powerful, will +have an equal weight and efficacy: in the same manner as the +votes individually given in a State legislature, by the +representatives of unequal counties or other districts, have +each a precise equality of value and effect; or if there be any +difference in the case, it proceeds from the difference in the +personal character of the individual representative, rather than +from any regard to the extent of the district from which he +comes. ''Such is the reasoning which an advocate for the +Southern interests might employ on this subject; and although it +may appear to be a little strained in some points, yet, on the +whole, I must confess that it fully reconciles me to the scale of +representation which the convention have established. In one +respect, the establishment of a common measure for representation +and taxation will have a very salutary effect. As the accuracy +of the census to be obtained by the Congress will necessarily +depend, in a considerable degree on the disposition, if not on +the co-operation, of the States, it is of great importance that +the States should feel as little bias as possible, to swell or to +reduce the amount of their numbers. Were their share of +representation alone to be governed by this rule, they would have +an interest in exaggerating their inhabitants. Were the rule to +decide their share of taxation alone, a contrary temptation would +prevail. By extending the rule to both objects, the States will +have opposite interests, which will control and balance each +other, and produce the requisite impartiality. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 55 + +The Total Number of the House of Representatives +From the New York Packet. Friday, February 15, 1788. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE number of which the House of Representatives is to consist, +forms another and a very interesting point of view, under which +this branch of the federal legislature may be contemplated. +Scarce any article, indeed, in the whole Constitution seems to be +rendered more worthy of attention, by the weight of character and +the apparent force of argument with which it has been assailed. +The charges exhibited against it are, first, that so small a +number of representatives will be an unsafe depositary of the +public interests; secondly, that they will not possess a proper +knowledge of the local circumstances of their numerous +constituents; thirdly, that they will be taken from that class of +citizens which will sympathize least with the feelings of the +mass of the people, and be most likely to aim at a permanent +elevation of the few on the depression of the many; fourthly, +that defective as the number will be in the first instance, it +will be more and more disproportionate, by the increase of the +people, and the obstacles which will prevent a correspondent +increase of the representatives. In general it may be remarked on +this subject, that no political problem is less susceptible of a +precise solution than that which relates to the number most +convenient for a representative legislature; nor is there any +point on which the policy of the several States is more at +variance, whether we compare their legislative assemblies +directly with each other, or consider the proportions which they +respectively bear to the number of their constituents. Passing +over the difference between the smallest and largest States, as +Delaware, whose most numerous branch consists of twenty-one +representatives, and Massachusetts, where it amounts to between +three and four hundred, a very considerable difference is +observable among States nearly equal in population. The number of +representatives in Pennsylvania is not more than one fifth of +that in the State last mentioned. New York, whose population is +to that of South Carolina as six to five, has little more than +one third of the number of representatives. As great a disparity +prevails between the States of Georgia and Delaware or Rhode +Island. In Pennsylvania, the representatives do not bear a +greater proportion to their constituents than of one for every +four or five thousand. In Rhode Island, they bear a proportion of +at least one for every thousand. And according to the +constitution of Georgia, the proportion may be carried to one to +every ten electors; and must unavoidably far exceed the +proportion in any of the other States. Another general remark to +be made is, that the ratio between the representatives and the +people ought not to be the same where the latter are very +numerous as where they are very few. Were the representatives in +Virginia to be regulated by the standard in Rhode Island, they +would, at this time, amount to between four and five hundred; and +twenty or thirty years hence, to a thousand. On the other hand, +the ratio of Pennsylvania, if applied to the State of Delaware, +would reduce the representative assembly of the latter to seven +or eight members. Nothing can be more fallacious than to found +our political calculations on arithmetical principles. Sixty or +seventy men may be more properly trusted with a given degree of +power than six or seven. But it does not follow that six or seven +hundred would be proportionably a better depositary. And if we +carry on the supposition to six or seven thousand, the whole +reasoning ought to be reversed. The truth is, that in all cases a +certain number at least seems to be necessary to secure the +benefits of free consultation and discussion, and to guard +against too easy a combination for improper purposes; as, on the +other hand, the number ought at most to be kept within a certain +limit, in order to avoid the confusion and intemperance of a +multitude. In all very numerous assemblies, of whatever character +composed, passion never fails to wrest the sceptre from reason. +Had every Athenian citizen been a Socrates, every Athenian +assembly would still have been a mob. + It is necessary also to +recollect here the observations which were applied to the case of +biennial elections. For the same reason that the limited powers +of the Congress, and the control of the State legislatures, +justify less frequent elections than the public safely might +otherwise require, the members of the Congress need be less +numerous than if they possessed the whole power of legislation, +and were under no other than the ordinary restraints of other +legislative bodies. With these general ideas in our mind, let us +weigh the objections which have been stated against the number of +members proposed for the House of Representatives. It is said, in +the first place, that so small a number cannot be safely trusted +with so much power. The number of which this branch of the +legislature is to consist, at the outset of the government, will +be sixtyfive. Within three years a census is to be taken, when +the number may be augmented to one for every thirty thousand +inhabitants; and within every successive period of ten years the +census is to be renewed, and augmentations may continue to be +made under the above limitation. It will not be thought an +extravagant conjecture that the first census will, at the rate of +one for every thirty thousand, raise the number of +representatives to at least one hundred. Estimating the negroes +in the proportion of three fifths, it can scarcely be doubted +that the population of the United States will by that time, if it +does not already, amount to three millions. At the expiration of +twenty-five years, according to the computed rate of increase, +the number of representatives will amount to two hundred, and of +fifty years, to four hundred. This is a number which, I presume, +will put an end to all fears arising from the smallness of the +body. I take for granted here what I shall, in answering the +fourth objection, hereafter show, that the number of +representatives will be augmented from time to time in the +manner provided by the Constitution. On a contrary supposition, I +should admit the objection to have very great weight indeed. The +true question to be decided then is, whether the smallness of the +number, as a temporary regulation, be dangerous to the public +liberty? Whether sixty-five members for a few years, and a +hundred or two hundred for a few more, be a safe depositary for a +limited and well-guarded power of legislating for the United +States? I must own that I could not give a negative answer to +this question, without first obliterating every impression which +I have received with regard to the present genius of the people +of America, the spirit which actuates the State legislatures, and +the principles which are incorporated with the political +character of every class of citizens I am unable to conceive that +the people of America, in their present temper, or under any +circumstances which can speedily happen, will choose, and every +second year repeat the choice of, sixty-five or a hundred men who +would be disposed to form and pursue a scheme of tyranny or +treachery. I am unable to conceive that the State legislatures, +which must feel so many motives to watch, and which possess so +many means of counteracting, the federal legislature, would fail +either to detect or to defeat a conspiracy of the latter against +the liberties of their common constituents. I am equally unable +to conceive that there are at this time, or can be in any short +time, in the United States, any sixty-five or a hundred men +capable of recommending themselves to the choice of the people at +large, who would either desire or dare, within the short space of +two years, to betray the solemn trust committed to them. What +change of circumstances, time, and a fuller population of our +country may produce, requires a prophetic spirit to declare, +which makes no part of my pretensions. But judging from the +circumstances now before us, and from the probable state of them +within a moderate period of time, I must pronounce that the +liberties of America cannot be unsafe in the number of hands +proposed by the federal Constitution. From what quarter can the +danger proceed? Are we afraid of foreign gold? If foreign gold +could so easily corrupt our federal rulers and enable them to +ensnare and betray their constituents, how has it happened that +we are at this time a free and independent nation? The Congress +which conducted us through the Revolution was a less numerous +body than their successors will be; they were not chosen by, nor +responsible to, their fellowcitizens at large; though appointed +from year to year, and recallable at pleasure, they were +generally continued for three years, and prior to the +ratification of the federal articles, for a still longer term. +They held their consultations always under the veil of secrecy; +they had the sole transaction of our affairs with foreign +nations; through the whole course of the war they had the fate of +their country more in their hands than it is to be hoped will +ever be the case with our future representatives; and from the +greatness of the prize at stake, and the eagerness of the party +which lost it, it may well be supposed that the use of other +means than force would not have been scrupled. Yet we know by +happy experience that the public trust was not betrayed; nor has +the purity of our public councils in this particular ever +suffered, even from the whispers of calumny. Is the danger +apprehended from the other branches of the federal government? +But where are the means to be found by the President, or the +Senate, or both? Their emoluments of office, it is to be +presumed, will not, and without a previous corruption of the +House of Representatives cannot, more than suffice for very +different purposes; their private fortunes, as they must allbe +American citizens, cannot possibly be sources of danger. The +only means, then, which they can possess, will be in the +dispensation of appointments. Is it here that suspicion rests +her charge? Sometimes we are told that this fund of corruption +is to be exhausted by the President in subduing the virtue of the +Senate. Now, the fidelity of the other House is to be the +victim. The improbability of such a mercenary and perfidious +combination of the several members of government, standing on as +different foundations as republican principles will well admit, +and at the same time accountable to the society over which they +are placed, ought alone to quiet this apprehension. But, +fortunately, the Constitution has provided a still further +safeguard. The members of the Congress are rendered ineligible +to any civil offices that may be created, or of which the +emoluments may be increased, during the term of their election. +No offices therefore can be dealt out to the existing members but +such as may become vacant by ordinary casualties: and to suppose +that these would be sufficient to purchase the guardians of the +people, selected by the people themselves, is to renounce every +rule by which events ought to be calculated, and to substitute an +indiscriminate and unbounded jealousy, with which all reasoning +must be vain. The sincere friends of liberty, who give +themselves up to the extravagancies of this passion, are not +aware of the injury they do their own cause. As there is a +degree of depravity in mankind which requires a certain degree of +circumspection and distrust, so there are other qualities in +human nature which justify a certain portion of esteem and +confidence. Republican government presupposes the existence of +these qualities in a higher degree than any other form. Were the +pictures which have been drawn by the political jealousy of some +among us faithful likenesses of the human character, the +inference would be, that there is not sufficient virtue among men +for self-government; and that nothing less than the chains of +despotism can restrain them from destroying and devouring one +another. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 56 + +The Same Subject Continued (The Total Number of the House of +Representatives) +From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 19, 1788. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE SECOND charge against the House of Representatives is, that +it will be too small to possess a due knowledge of the interests +of its constituents. As this objection evidently proceeds from a +comparison of the proposed number of representatives with the +great extent of the United States, the number of their +inhabitants, and the diversity of their interests, without taking +into view at the same time the circumstances which will +distinguish the Congress from other legislative bodies, the best +answer that can be given to it will be a brief explanation of +these peculiarities. It is a sound and important principle that +the representative ought to be acquainted with the interests and +circumstances of his constituents. But this principle can extend +no further than to those circumstances and interests to which the +authority and care of the representative relate. An ignorance of +a variety of minute and particular objects, which do not lie +within the compass of legislation, is consistent with every +attribute necessary to a due performance of the legislative +trust. In determining the extent of information required in the +exercise of a particular authority, recourse then must be had to +the objects within the purview of that authority. What are to be +the objects of federal legislation? Those which are of most +importance, and which seem most to require local knowledge, are +commerce, taxation, and the militia. A proper regulation of +commerce requires much information, as has been elsewhere +remarked; but as far as this information relates to the laws and +local situation of each individual State, a very few +representatives would be very sufficient vehicles of it to the +federal councils. Taxation will consist, in a great measure, of +duties which will be involved in the regulation of commerce. So +far the preceding remark is applicable to this object. As far as +it may consist of internal collections, a more diffusive +knowledge of the circumstances of the State may be necessary. But +will not this also be possessed in sufficient degree by a very +few intelligent men, diffusively elected within the State? Divide +the largest State into ten or twelve districts, and it will be +found that there will be no peculiar local interests in either, +which will not be within the knowledge of the representative of +the district. Besides this source of information, the laws of the +State, framed by representatives from every part of it, will be +almost of themselves a sufficient guide. In every State there +have been made, and must continue to be made, regulations on this +subject which will, in many cases, leave little more to be done +by the federal legislature, than to review the different laws, +and reduce them in one general act. A skillful individual in his +closet with all the local codes before him, might compile a law +on some subjects of taxation for the whole union, without any aid +from oral information, and it may be expected that whenever +internal taxes may be necessary, and particularly in cases +requiring uniformity throughout the States, the more simple +objects will be preferred. To be fully sensible of the facility +which will be given to this branch of federal legislation by the +assistance of the State codes, we need only suppose for a moment +that this or any other State were divided into a number of parts, +each having and exercising within itself a power of local +legislation. Is it not evident that a degree of local information +and preparatory labor would be found in the several volumes of +their proceedings, which would very much shorten the labors of +the general legislature, and render a much smaller number of +members sufficient for it? The federal councils will derive great +advantage from another circumstance. The representatives of each +State will not only bring with them a considerable knowledge of +its laws, and a local knowledge of their respective districts, +but will probably in all cases have been members, and may even at +the very time be members, of the State legislature, where all the +local information and interests of the State are assembled, and +from whence they may easily be conveyed by a very few hands into +the legislature of the United States. The observations made on +the subject of taxation apply with greater force to the case of +the militia. For however different the rules of discipline may be +in different States, they are the same throughout each particular +State; and depend on circumstances which can differ but little in +different parts of the same State. The attentive reader will +discern that the reasoning here used, to prove the sufficiency of +a moderate number of representatives, does not in any respect +contradict what was urged on another occasion with regard to the +extensive information which the representatives ought to possess, +and the time that might be necessary for acquiring it. This +information, so far as it may relate to local objects, is +rendered necessary and difficult, not by a difference of laws and +local circumstances within a single State, but of those among +different States. Taking each State by itself, its laws are the +same, and its interests but little diversified. A few men, +therefore, will possess all the knowledge requisite for a proper +representation of them. Were the interests and affairs of each +individual State perfectly simple and uniform, a knowledge of +them in one part would involve a knowledge of them in every +other, and the whole State might be competently represented by a +single member taken from any part of it. On a comparison of the +different States together, we find a great dissimilarity in their +laws, and in many other circumstances connected with the objects +of federal legislation, with all of which the federal +representatives ought to have some acquaintance. Whilst a few +representatives, therefore, from each State, may bring with them +a due knowledge of their own State, every representative will +have much information to acquire concerning all the other States. +The changes of time, as was formerly remarked, on the comparative +situation of the different States, will have an assimilating +effect. The effect of time on the internal affairs of the States, +taken singly, will be just the contrary. At present some of the +States are little more than a society of husbandmen. Few of them +have made much progress in those branches of industry which give +a variety and complexity to the affairs of a nation. These, +however, will in all of them be the fruits of a more advanced +population, and will require, on the part of each State, a fuller +representation. The foresight of the convention has accordingly +taken care that the progress of population may be accompanied +with a proper increase of the representative branch of the +government. The experience of Great Britain, which presents to +mankind so many political lessons, both of the monitory and +exemplary kind, and which has been frequently consulted in the +course of these inquiries, corroborates the result of the +reflections which we have just made. The number of inhabitants in +the two kingdoms of England and Scotland cannot be stated at less +than eight millions. The representatives of these eight millions +in the House of Commons amount to five hundred and fifty-eight. +Of this number, one ninth are elected by three hundred and +sixty-four persons, and one half, by five thousand seven hundred +and twenty-three persons. 1 It cannot be supposed that the half +thus elected, and who do not even reside among the people at +large, can add any thing either to the security of the people +against the government, or to the knowledge of their +circumstances and interests in the legislative councils. On the +contrary, it is notorious, that they are more frequently the +representatives and instruments of the executive magistrate, than +the guardians and advocates of the popular rights. They might +therefore, with great propriety, be considered as something more +than a mere deduction from the real representatives of the +nation. We will, however, consider them in this light alone, and +will not extend the deduction to a considerable number of +others, who do not reside among their constitutents, are very +faintly connected with them, and have very little particular +knowledge of their affairs. With all these concessions, two +hundred and seventy-nine persons only will be the depository of +the safety, interest, and happiness of eight millions that is to +say, there will be one representative only to maintain the rights +and explain the situation OF TWENTY-EIGHT THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED +AND SEVENTY constitutents, in an assembly exposed to the whole +force of executive influence, and extending its authority to +every object of legislation within a nation whose affairs are in +the highest degree diversified and complicated. Yet it is very +certain, not only that a valuable portion of freedom has been +preserved under all these circumstances, but that the defects in +the British code are chargeable, in a very small proportion, on +the ignorance of the legislature concerning the circumstances of +the people. Allowing to this case the weight which is due to it, +and comparing it with that of the House of Representatives as +above explained it seems to give the fullest assurance, that a +representative for every THIRTY THOUSAND INHABITANTS will render +the latter both a safe and competent guardian of the interests +which will be confided to it. PUBLIUS. Burgh's ``Political +Disquisitions. '' + + +FEDERALIST No. 57 + +The Alleged Tendency of the New Plan to Elevate the Few at the +Expense of the Many Considered in Connection with Representation +From the New York Packet. Tuesday, February 19, 1788. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE THIRD charge against the House of Representatives is, that it +will be taken from that class of citizens which will have least +sympathy with the mass of the people, and be most likely to aim +at an ambitious sacrifice of the many to the aggrandizement of +the few. Of all the objections which have been framed against the +federal Constitution, this is perhaps the most extraordinary. +Whilst the objection itself is levelled against a pretended +oligarchy, the principle of it strikes at the very root of +republican government. The aim of every political constitution +is, or ought to be, first to obtain for rulers men who possess +most wisdom to discern, and most virtue to pursue, the common +good of the society; and in the next place, to take the most +effectual precautions for keeping them virtuous whilst they +continue to hold their public trust. The elective mode of +obtaining rulers is the characteristic policy of republican +government. The means relied on in this form of government for +preventing their degeneracy are numerous and various. The most +effectual one, is such a limitation of the term of appointments +as will maintain a proper responsibility to the people. Let me +now ask what circumstance there is in the constitution of the +House of Representatives that violates the principles of +republican government, or favors the elevation of the few on the +ruins of the many? Let me ask whether every circumstance is not, +on the contrary, strictly conformable to these principles, and +scrupulously impartial to the rights and pretensions of every +class and description of citizens? Who are to be the electors of +the federal representatives? Not the rich, more than the poor; +not the learned, more than the ignorant; not the haughty heirs of +distinguished names, more than the humble sons of obscurity and +unpropitious fortune. The electors are to be the great body of +the people of the United States. They are to be the same who +exercise the right in every State of electing the corresponding +branch of the legislature of the State. Who are to be the objects +of popular choice? Every citizen whose merit may recommend him to +the esteem and confidence of his country. No qualification of +wealth, of birth, of religious faith, or of civil profession is +permitted to fetter the judgement or disappoint the inclination +of the people. If we consider the situation of the men on whom +the free suffrages of their fellow-citizens may confer the +representative trust, we shall find it involving every security +which can be devised or desired for their fidelity to their +constituents. In the first place, as they will have been +distinguished by the preference of their fellow-citizens, we are +to presume that in general they will be somewhat distinguished +also by those qualities which entitle them to it, and which +promise a sincere and scrupulous regard to the nature of their +engagements. In the second place, they will enter into the public +service under circumstances which cannot fail to produce a +temporary affection at least to their constituents. There is in +every breast a sensibility to marks of honor, of favor, of +esteem, and of confidence, which, apart from all considerations +of interest, is some pledge for grateful and benevolent returns. +Ingratitude is a common topic of declamation against human +nature; and it must be confessed that instances of it are but too +frequent and flagrant, both in public and in private life. But +the universal and extreme indignation which it inspires is itself +a proof of the energy and prevalence of the contrary sentiment. +In the third place, those ties which bind the representative to +his constituents are strengthened by motives of a more selfish +nature. His pride and vanity attach him to a form of government +which favors his pretensions and gives him a share in its honors +and distinctions. Whatever hopes or projects might be entertained +by a few aspiring characters, it must generally happen that a +great proportion of the men deriving their advancement from their +influence with the people, would have more to hope from a +preservation of the favor, than from innovations in the +government subversive of the authority of the people. All these +securities, however, would be found very insufficient without the +restraint of frequent elections. Hence, in the fourth place, the +House of Representatives is so constituted as to support in the +members an habitual recollection of their dependence on the +people. Before the sentiments impressed on their minds by the +mode of their elevation can be effaced by the exercise of power, +they will be compelled to anticipate the moment when their power +is to cease, when their exercise of it is to be reviewed, and +when they must descend to the level from which they were raised; +there forever to remain unless a faithful discharge of their +trust shall have established their title to a renewal of it. I +will add, as a fifth circumstance in the situation of the House +of Representatives, restraining them from oppressive measures, +that they can make no law which will not have its full operation +on themselves and their friends, as well as on the great mass of +the society. This has always been deemed one of the strongest +bonds by which human policy can connect the rulers and the people +together. It creates between them that communion of interests and +sympathy of sentiments, of which few governments have furnished +examples; but without which every government degenerates into +tyranny. If it be asked, what is to restrain the House of +Representatives from making legal discriminations in favor of +themselves and a particular class of the society? I answer: the +genius of the whole system; the nature of just and constitutional +laws; and above all, the vigilant and manly spirit which actuates +the people of America, a spirit which nourishes freedom, and in +return is nourished by it. If this spirit shall ever be so far +debased as to tolerate a law not obligatory on the legislature, +as well as on the people, the people will be prepared to tolerate +any thing but liberty. Such will be the relation between the +House of Representatives and their constituents. Duty, gratitude, +interest, ambition itself, are the chords by which they will be +bound to fidelity and sympathy with the great mass of the people. +It is possible that these may all be insufficient to control the +caprice and wickedness of man. But are they not all that +government will admit, and that human prudence can devise? Are +they not the genuine and the characteristic means by which +republican government provides for the liberty and happiness of +the people? Are they not the identical means on which every State +government in the Union relies for the attainment of these +important ends? What then are we to understand by the objection +which this paper has combated? What are we to say to the men who +profess the most flaming zeal for republican government, yet +boldly impeach the fundamental principle of it; who pretend to be +champions for the right and the capacity of the people to choose +their own rulers, yet maintain that they will prefer those only +who will immediately and infallibly betray the trust committed to +them? Were the objection to be read by one who had not seen the +mode prescribed by the Constitution for the choice of +representatives, he could suppose nothing less than that some +unreasonable qualification of property was annexed to the right +of suffrage; or that the right of eligibility was limited to +persons of particular families or fortunes; or at least that the +mode prescribed by the State constitutions was in some respect or +other, very grossly departed from. We have seen how far such a +supposition would err, as to the two first points. Nor would it, +in fact, be less erroneous as to the last. The only difference +discoverable between the two cases is, that each representative +of the United States will be elected by five or six thousand +citizens; whilst in the individual States, the election of a +representative is left to about as many hundreds. Will it be +pretended that this difference is sufficient to justify an +attachment to the State governments, and an abhorrence to the +federal government? If this be the point on which the objection +turns, it deserves to be examined. Is it supported by REASON? +This cannot be said, without maintaining that five or six +thousand citizens are less capable of choosing a fit +representative, or more liable to be corrupted by an unfit one, +than five or six hundred. Reason, on the contrary, assures us, +that as in so great a number a fit representative would be most +likely to be found, so the choice would be less likely to be +diverted from him by the intrigues of the ambitious or the +ambitious or the bribes of the rich. Is the CONSEQUENCE from +this doctrine admissible? If we say that five or six hundred +citizens are as many as can jointly exercise their right of +suffrage, must we not deprive the people of the immediate choice +of their public servants, in every instance where the +administration of the government does not require as many of them +as will amount to one for that number of citizens? Is the +doctrine warranted by FACTS? It was shown in the last paper, that +the real representation in the British House of Commons very +little exceeds the proportion of one for every thirty thousand +inhabitants. Besides a variety of powerful causes not existing +here, and which favor in that country the pretensions of rank and +wealth, no person is eligible as a representative of a county, +unless he possess real estate of the clear value of six hundred +pounds sterling per year; nor of a city or borough, unless he +possess a like estate of half that annual value. To this +qualification on the part of the county representatives is added +another on the part of the county electors, which restrains the +right of suffrage to persons having a freehold estate of the +annual value of more than twenty pounds sterling, according to +the present rate of money. Notwithstanding these unfavorable +circumstances, and notwithstanding some very unequal laws in the +British code, it cannot be said that the representatives of the +nation have elevated the few on the ruins of the many. But we +need not resort to foreign experience on this subject. Our own +is explicit and decisive. The districts in New Hampshire in +which the senators are chosen immediately by the people, are +nearly as large as will be necessary for her representatives in +the Congress. Those of Massachusetts are larger than will be +necessary for that purpose; and those of New York still more so. +In the last State the members of Assembly for the cities and +counties of New York and Albany are elected by very nearly as +many voters as will be entitled to a representative in the +Congress, calculating on the number of sixty-five representatives +only. It makes no difference that in these senatorial districts +and counties a number of representatives are voted for by each +elector at the same time. If the same electors at the same time +are capable of choosing four or five representatives, they cannot +be incapable of choosing one. Pennsylvania is an additional +example. Some of her counties, which elect her State +representatives, are almost as large as her districts will be by +which her federal representatives will be elected. The city of +Philadelphia is supposed to contain between fifty and sixty +thousand souls. It will therefore form nearly two districts for +the choice of federal representatives. It forms, however, but +one county, in which every elector votes for each of its +representatives in the State legislature. And what may appear to +be still more directly to our purpose, the whole city actually +elects a SINGLE MEMBER for the executive council. This is the +case in all the other counties of the State. Are not these facts +the most satisfactory proofs of the fallacy which has been +employed against the branch of the federal government under +consideration? Has it appeared on trial that the senators of New +Hampshire, Massachusetts, and New York, or the executive council +of Pennsylvania, or the members of the Assembly in the two last +States, have betrayed any peculiar disposition to sacrifice the +many to the few, or are in any respect less worthy of their +places than the representatives and magistrates appointed in +other States by very small divisions of the people? But there are +cases of a stronger complexion than any which I have yet quoted. +One branch of the legislature of Connecticut is so constituted +that each member of it is elected by the whole State. So is the +governor of that State, of Massachusetts, and of this State, and +the president of New Hampshire. I leave every man to decide +whether the result of any one of these experiments can be said to +countenance a suspicion, that a diffusive mode of choosing +representatives of the people tends to elevate traitors and to +undermine the public liberty. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 58 +Objection That The Number of Members Will Not Be Augmented as the +Progress of Population Demands Considered + +MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE remaining charge against the House of Representatives, which +I am to examine, is grounded on a supposition that the number of +members will not be augmented from time to time, as the progress +of population may demand. It has been admitted, that this +objection, if well supported, would have great weight. The +following observations will show that, like most other objections +against the Constitution, it can only proceed from a partial view +of the subject, or from a jealousy which discolors and disfigures +every object which is beheld. 1. Those who urge the objection +seem not to have recollected that the federal Constitution will +not suffer by a comparison with the State constitutions, in the +security provided for a gradual augmentation of the number of +representatives. The number which is to prevail in the first +instance is declared to be temporary. Its duration is limited to +the short term of three years. Within every successive term of +ten years a census of inhabitants is to be repeated. The +unequivocal objects of these regulations are, first, to readjust, +from time to time, the apportionment of representatives to the +number of inhabitants, under the single exception that each State +shall have one representative at least; secondly, to augment the +number of representatives at the same periods, under the sole +limitation that the whole number shall not exceed one for every +thirty thousand inhabitants. If we review the constitutions of +the several States, we shall find that some of them contain no +determinate regulations on this subject, that others correspond +pretty much on this point with the federal Constitution, and that +the most effectual security in any of them is resolvable into a +mere directory provision. 2. As far as experience has taken place +on this subject, a gradual increase of representatives under the +State constitutions has at least kept pace with that of the +constituents, and it appears that the former have been as ready +to concur in such measures as the latter have been to call for +them. 3. There is a peculiarity in the federal Constitution which +insures a watchful attention in a majority both of the people and +of their representatives to a constitutional augmentation of the +latter. The peculiarity lies in this, that one branch of the +legislature is a representation of citizens, the other of the +States: in the former, consequently, the larger States will have +most weight; in the latter, the advantage will be in favor of the +smaller States. From this circumstance it may with certainty be +inferred that the larger States will be strenuous advocates for +increasing the number and weight of that part of the legislature +in which their influence predominates. And it so happens that +four only of the largest will have a majority of the whole votes +in the House of Representatives. Should the representatives or +people, therefore, of the smaller States oppose at any time a +reasonable addition of members, a coalition of a very few States +will be sufficient to overrule the opposition; a coalition which, +notwithstanding the rivalship and local prejudices which might +prevent it on ordinary occasions, would not fail to take place, +when not merely prompted by common interest, but justified by +equity and the principles of the Constitution. It may be +alleged, perhaps, that the Senate would be prompted by like +motives to an adverse coalition; and as their concurrence would +be indispensable, the just and constitutional views of the other +branch might be defeated. This is the difficulty which has +probably created the most serious apprehensions in the jealous +friends of a numerous representation. Fortunately it is among +the difficulties which, existing only in appearance, vanish on a +close and accurate inspection. The following reflections will, +if I mistake not, be admitted to be conclusive and satisfactory +on this point. Notwithstanding the equal authority which will +subsist between the two houses on all legislative subjects, +except the originating of money bills, it cannot be doubted that +the House, composed of the greater number of members, when +supported by the more powerful States, and speaking the known and +determined sense of a majority of the people, will have no small +advantage in a question depending on the comparative firmness of +the two houses. This advantage must be increased by the +consciousness, felt by the same side of being supported in its +demands by right, by reason, and by the Constitution; and the +consciousness, on the opposite side, of contending against the +force of all these solemn considerations. It is farther to be +considered, that in the gradation between the smallest and +largest States, there are several, which, though most likely in +general to arrange themselves among the former are too little +removed in extent and population from the latter, to second an +opposition to their just and legitimate pretensions. Hence it is +by no means certain that a majority of votes, even in the +Senate, would be unfriendly to proper augmentations in the number +of representatives. It will not be looking too far to add, that +the senators from all the new States may be gained over to the +just views of the House of Representatives, by an expedient too +obvious to be overlooked. As these States will, for a great +length of time, advance in population with peculiar rapidity, +they will be interested in frequent reapportionments of the +representatives to the number of inhabitants. The large States, +therefore, who will prevail in the House of Representatives, will +have nothing to do but to make reapportionments and augmentations +mutually conditions of each other; and the senators from all the +most growing States will be bound to contend for the latter, by +the interest which their States will feel in the former. These +considerations seem to afford ample security on this subject, and +ought alone to satisfy all the doubts and fears which have been +indulged with regard to it. Admitting, however, that they should +all be insufficient to subdue the unjust policy of the smaller +States, or their predominant influence in the councils of the +Senate, a constitutional and infallible resource still remains +with the larger States, by which they will be able at all times +to accomplish their just purposes. The House of Representatives +cannot only refuse, but they alone can propose, the supplies +requisite for the support of government. They, in a word, hold +the purse that powerful instrument by which we behold, in the +history of the British Constitution, an infant and humble +representation of the people gradually enlarging the sphere of +its activity and importance, and finally reducing, as far as it +seems to have wished, all the overgrown prerogatives of the other +branches of the government. This power over the purse may, in +fact, be regarded as the most complete and effectual weapon with +which any constitution can arm the immediate representatives of +the people, for obtaining a redress of every grievance, and for +carrying into effect every just and salutary measure. But will +not the House of Representatives be as much interested as the +Senate in maintaining the government in its proper functions, and +will they not therefore be unwilling to stake its existence or +its reputation on the pliancy of the Senate? Or, if such a trial +of firmness between the two branches were hazarded, would not the +one be as likely first to yield as the other? These questions +will create no difficulty with those who reflect that in all +cases the smaller the number, and the more permanent and +conspicuous the station, of men in power, the stronger must be +the interest which they will individually feel in whatever +concerns the government. Those who represent the dignity of their +country in the eyes of other nations, will be particularly +sensible to every prospect of public danger, or of dishonorable +stagnation in public affairs. To those causes we are to ascribe +the continual triumph of the British House of Commons over the +other branches of the government, whenever the engine of a money +bill has been employed. An absolute inflexibility on the side of +the latter, although it could not have failed to involve every +department of the state in the general confusion, has neither +been apprehended nor experienced. The utmost degree of firmness +that can be displayed by the federal Senate or President, will +not be more than equal to a resistance in which they will be +supported by constitutional and patriotic principles. In this +review of the Constitution of the House of Representatives, I +have passed over the circumstances of economy, which, in the +present state of affairs, might have had some effect in lessening +the temporary number of representatives, and a disregard of which +would probably have been as rich a theme of declamation against +the Constitution as has been shown by the smallness of the number +proposed. I omit also any remarks on the difficulty which might +be found, under present circumstances, in engaging in the federal +service a large number of such characters as the people will +probably elect. One observation, however, I must be permitted to +add on this subject as claiming, in my judgment, a very serious +attention. It is, that in all legislative assemblies the greater +the number composing them may be, the fewer will be the men who +will in fact direct their proceedings. In the first place, the +more numerous an assembly may be, of whatever characters +composed, the greater is known to be the ascendency of passion +over reason. In the next place, the larger the number, the +greater will be the proportion of members of limited information +and of weak capacities. Now, it is precisely on characters of +this description that the eloquence and address of the few are +known to act with all their force. In the ancient republics, +where the whole body of the people assembled in person, a single +orator, or an artful statesman, was generally seen to rule with +as complete a sway as if a sceptre had been placed in his single +hand. On the same principle, the more multitudinous a +representative assembly may be rendered, the more it will partake +of the infirmities incident to collective meetings of the people. +Ignorance will be the dupe of cunning, and passion the slave of +sophistry and declamation. The people can never err more than in +supposing that by multiplying their representatives beyond a +certain limit, they strengthen the barrier against the government +of a few. Experience will forever admonish them that, on the +contrary, AFTER SECURING A SUFFICIENT NUMBER FOR THE PURPOSES OF +SAFETY, OF LOCAL INFORMATION, AND OF DIFFUSIVE SYMPATHY WITH THE +WHOLE SOCIETY, they will counteract their own views by every +addition to their representatives. The countenance of the +government may become more democratic, but the soul that animates +it will be more oligarchic. The machine will be enlarged, but the +fewer, and often the more secret, will be the springs by which +its motions are directed. As connected with the objection against +the number of representatives, may properly be here noticed, that +which has been suggested against the number made competent for +legislative business. It has been said that more than a majority +ought to have been required for a quorum; and in particular +cases, if not in all, more than a majority of a quorum for a +decision. That some advantages might have resulted from such a +precaution, cannot be denied. It might have been an additional +shield to some particular interests, and another obstacle +generally to hasty and partial measures. But these considerations +are outweighed by the inconveniences in the opposite scale. In +all cases where justice or the general good might require new +laws to be passed, or active measures to be pursued, the +fundamental principle of free government would be reversed. It +would be no longer the majority that would rule: the power would +be transferred to the minority. Were the defensive privilege +limited to particular cases, an interested minority might take +advantage of it to screen themselves from equitable sacrifices to +the general weal, or, in particular emergencies, to extort +unreasonable indulgences. Lastly, it would facilitate and foster +the baneful practice of secessions; a practice which has shown +itself even in States where a majority only is required; a +practice subversive of all the principles of order and regular +government; a practice which leads more directly to public +convulsions, and the ruin of popular governments, than any other +which has yet been displayed among us. PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 59 + +Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of +Members +From the New York Packet. Friday, February 22, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE natural order of the subject leads us to consider, in this +place, that provision of the Constitution which authorizes the +national legislature to regulate, in the last resort, the +election of its own members. It is in these words: ``The TIMES, +PLACES, and MANNER of holding elections for senators and +representatives shall be prescribed in each State by the +legislature thereof; but the Congress may, at any time, by law, +make or alter SUCH REGULATIONS, except as to the PLACES of +choosing senators. ''1 This provision has not only been declaimed +against by those who condemn the Constitution in the gross, but +it has been censured by those who have objected with less +latitude and greater moderation; and, in one instance it has been +thought exceptionable by a gentleman who has declared himself the +advocate of every other part of the system. I am greatly +mistaken, notwithstanding, if there be any article in the whole +plan more completely defensible than this. Its propriety rests +upon the evidence of this plain proposition, that EVERY +GOVERNMENT OUGHT TO CONTAIN IN ITSELF THE MEANS OF ITS OWN +PRESERVATION. Every just reasoner will, at first sight, approve +an adherence to this rule, in the work of the convention; and +will disapprove every deviation from it which may not appear to +have been dictated by the necessity of incorporating into the +work some particular ingredient, with which a rigid conformity to +the rule was incompatible. Even in this case, though he may +acquiesce in the necessity, yet he will not cease to regard and +to regret a departure from so fundamental a principle, as a +portion of imperfection in the system which may prove the seed of +future weakness, and perhaps anarchy. It will not be alleged, +that an election law could have been framed and inserted in the +Constitution, which would have been always applicable to every +probable change in the situation of the country; and it will +therefore not be denied, that a discretionary power over +elections ought to exist somewhere. It will, I presume, be as +readily conceded, that there were only three ways in which this +power could have been reasonably modified and disposed: that it +must either have been lodged wholly in the national legislature, +or wholly in the State legislatures, or primarily in the latter +and ultimately in the former. The last mode has, with reason, +been preferred by the convention. They have submitted the +regulation of elections for the federal government, in the first +instance, to the local administrations; which, in ordinary +cases, and when no improper views prevail, may be both more +convenient and more satisfactory; but they have reserved to the +national authority a right to interpose, whenever extraordinary +circumstances might render that interposition necessary to its +safety. Nothing can be more evident, than that an exclusive +power of regulating elections for the national government, in the +hands of the State legislatures, would leave the existence of the +Union entirely at their mercy. They could at any moment +annihilate it, by neglecting to provide for the choice of persons +to administer its affairs. It is to little purpose to say, that +a neglect or omission of this kind would not be likely to take +place. The constitutional possibility of the thing, without an +equivalent for the risk, is an unanswerable objection. Nor has +any satisfactory reason been yet assigned for incurring that +risk. The extravagant surmises of a distempered jealousy can +never be dignified with that character. If we are in a humor to +presume abuses of power, it is as fair to presume them on the +part of the State governments as on the part of the general +government. And as it is more consonant to the rules of a just +theory, to trust the Union with the care of its own existence, +than to transfer that care to any other hands, if abuses of power +are to be hazarded on the one side or on the other, it is more +rational to hazard them where the power would naturally be +placed, than where it would unnaturally be placed. Suppose an +article had been introduced into the Constitution, empowering the +United States to regulate the elections for the particular +States, would any man have hesitated to condemn it, both as an +unwarrantable transposition of power, and as a premeditated +engine for the destruction of the State governments? The +violation of principle, in this case, would have required no +comment; and, to an unbiased observer, it will not be less +apparent in the project of subjecting the existence of the +national government, in a similar respect, to the pleasure of the +State governments. An impartial view of the matter cannot fail +to result in a conviction, that each, as far as possible, ought +to depend on itself for its own preservation. As an objection to +this position, it may be remarked that the constitution of the +national Senate would involve, in its full extent, the danger +which it is suggested might flow from an exclusive power in the +State legislatures to regulate the federal elections. It may be +alleged, that by declining the appointment of Senators, they +might at any time give a fatal blow to the Union; and from this +it may be inferred, that as its existence would be thus rendered +dependent upon them in so essential a point, there can be no +objection to intrusting them with it in the particular case under +consideration. The interest of each State, it may be added, to +maintain its representation in the national councils, would be a +complete security against an abuse of the trust. This argument, +though specious, will not, upon examination, be found solid. It +is certainly true that the State legislatures, by forbearing the +appointment of senators, may destroy the national government. But +it will not follow that, because they have a power to do this in +one instance, they ought to have it in every other. There are +cases in which the pernicious tendency of such a power may be far +more decisive, without any motive equally cogent with that which +must have regulated the conduct of the convention in respect to +the formation of the Senate, to recommend their admission into +the system. So far as that construction may expose the Union to +the possibility of injury from the State legislatures, it is an +evil; but it is an evil which could not have been avoided without +excluding the States, in their political capacities, wholly from +a place in the organization of the national government. If this +had been done, it would doubtless have been interpreted into an +entire dereliction of the federal principle; and would certainly +have deprived the State governments of that absolute safeguard +which they will enjoy under this provision. But however wise it +may have been to have submitted in this instance to an +inconvenience, for the attainment of a necessary advantage or a +greater good, no inference can be drawn from thence to favor an +accumulation of the evil, where no necessity urges, nor any +greater good invites. It may be easily discerned also that the +national government would run a much greater risk from a power in +the State legislatures over the elections of its House of +Representatives, than from their power of appointing the members +of its Senate. The senators are to be chosen for the period of +six years; there is to be a rotation, by which the seats of a +third part of them are to be vacated and replenished every two +years; and no State is to be entitled to more than two senators; +a quorum of the body is to consist of sixteen members. The joint +result of these circumstances would be, that a temporary +combination of a few States to intermit the appointment of +senators, could neither annul the existence nor impair the +activity of the body; and it is not from a general and permanent +combination of the States that we can have any thing to fear. The +first might proceed from sinister designs in the leading members +of a few of the State legislatures; the last would suppose a +fixed and rooted disaffection in the great body of the people, +which will either never exist at all, or will, in all +probability, proceed from an experience of the inaptitude of the +general government to the advancement of their happiness in which +event no good citizen could desire its continuance. But with +regard to the federal House of Representatives, there is intended +to be a general election of members once in two years. If the +State legislatures were to be invested with an exclusive power of +regulating these elections, every period of making them would be +a delicate crisis in the national situation, which might issue in +a dissolution of the Union, if the leaders of a few of the most +important States should have entered into a previous conspiracy +to prevent an election. I shall not deny, that there is a degree +of weight in the observation, that the interests of each State, +to be represented in the federal councils, will be a security +against the abuse of a power over its elections in the hands of +the State legislatures. But the security will not be considered +as complete, by those who attend to the force of an obvious +distinction between the interest of the people in the public +felicity, and the interest of their local rulers in the power and +consequence of their offices. The people of America may be +warmly attached to the government of the Union, at times when the +particular rulers of particular States, stimulated by the natural +rivalship of power, and by the hopes of personal aggrandizement, +and supported by a strong faction in each of those States, may be +in a very opposite temper. This diversity of sentiment between a +majority of the people, and the individuals who have the +greatest credit in their councils, is exemplified in some of the +States at the present moment, on the present question. The +scheme of separate confederacies, which will always multiply the +chances of ambition, will be a never failing bait to all such +influential characters in the State administrations as are +capable of preferring their own emolument and advancement to the +public weal. With so effectual a weapon in their hands as the +exclusive power of regulating elections for the national +government, a combination of a few such men, in a few of the most +considerable States, where the temptation will always be the +strongest, might accomplish the destruction of the Union, by +seizing the opportunity of some casual dissatisfaction among the +people (and which perhaps they may themselves have excited), to +discontinue the choice of members for the federal House of +Representatives. It ought never to be forgotten, that a firm +union of this country, under an efficient government, will +probably be an increasing object of jealousy to more than one +nation of Europe; and that enterprises to subvert it will +sometimes originate in the intrigues of foreign powers, and will +seldom fail to be patronized and abetted by some of them. Its +preservation, therefore ought in no case that can be avoided, to +be committed to the guardianship of any but those whose situation +will uniformly beget an immediate interest in the faithful and +vigilant performance of the trust. PUBLIUS. Ist clause, 4th +section, of the Ist article. + + +FEDERALIST No. 60 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of + Members) +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, February 26, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +WE HAVE seen, that an uncontrollable power over the elections to + the federal government could not, without hazard, be committed to + the State legislatures. Let us now see, what would be the danger on + the other side; that is, from confiding the ultimate right of + regulating its own elections to the Union itself. It is not + pretended, that this right would ever be used for the exclusion of + any State from its share in the representation. The interest of all + would, in this respect at least, be the security of all. But it is + alleged, that it might be employed in such a manner as to promote + the election of some favorite class of men in exclusion of others, + by confining the places of election to particular districts, and + rendering it impracticable to the citizens at large to partake in + the choice. Of all chimerical suppositions, this seems to be the + most chimerical. On the one hand, no rational calculation of + probabilities would lead us to imagine that the disposition which a + conduct so violent and extraordinary would imply, could ever find + its way into the national councils; and on the other, it may be + concluded with certainty, that if so improper a spirit should ever + gain admittance into them, it would display itself in a form + altogether different and far more decisive. +The improbability of the attempt may be satisfactorily inferred + from this single reflection, that it could never be made without + causing an immediate revolt of the great body of the people, headed + and directed by the State governments. It is not difficult to + conceive that this characteristic right of freedom may, in certain + turbulent and factious seasons, be violated, in respect to a + particular class of citizens, by a victorious and overbearing + majority; but that so fundamental a privilege, in a country so + situated and enlightened, should be invaded to the prejudice of the + great mass of the people, by the deliberate policy of the + government, without occasioning a popular revolution, is altogether + inconceivable and incredible. +In addition to this general reflection, there are considerations + of a more precise nature, which forbid all apprehension on the + subject. The dissimilarity in the ingredients which will compose + the national government, and still more in the manner in which they + will be brought into action in its various branches, must form a + powerful obstacle to a concert of views in any partial scheme of + elections. There is sufficient diversity in the state of property, + in the genius, manners, and habits of the people of the different + parts of the Union, to occasion a material diversity of disposition + in their representatives towards the different ranks and conditions + in society. And though an intimate intercourse under the same + government will promote a gradual assimilation in some of these + respects, yet there are causes, as well physical as moral, which + may, in a greater or less degree, permanently nourish different + propensities and inclinations in this respect. But the circumstance + which will be likely to have the greatest influence in the matter, + will be the dissimilar modes of constituting the several component + parts of the government. The House of Representatives being to be + elected immediately by the people, the Senate by the State + legislatures, the President by electors chosen for that purpose by + the people, there would be little probability of a common interest + to cement these different branches in a predilection for any + particular class of electors. +As to the Senate, it is impossible that any regulation of ``time + and manner,'' which is all that is proposed to be submitted to the + national government in respect to that body, can affect the spirit + which will direct the choice of its members. The collective sense + of the State legislatures can never be influenced by extraneous + circumstances of that sort; a consideration which alone ought to + satisfy us that the discrimination apprehended would never be + attempted. For what inducement could the Senate have to concur in a + preference in which itself would not be included? Or to what + purpose would it be established, in reference to one branch of the + legislature, if it could not be extended to the other? The + composition of the one would in this case counteract that of the + other. And we can never suppose that it would embrace the + appointments to the Senate, unless we can at the same time suppose + the voluntary co-operation of the State legislatures. If we make + the latter supposition, it then becomes immaterial where the power + in question is placed whether in their hands or in those of the + Union. +But what is to be the object of this capricious partiality in + the national councils? Is it to be exercised in a discrimination + between the different departments of industry, or between the + different kinds of property, or between the different degrees of + property? Will it lean in favor of the landed interest, or the + moneyed interest, or the mercantile interest, or the manufacturing + interest? Or, to speak in the fashionable language of the + adversaries to the Constitution, will it court the elevation of + ``the wealthy and the well-born,'' to the exclusion and debasement + of all the rest of the society? +If this partiality is to be exerted in favor of those who are + concerned in any particular description of industry or property, I + presume it will readily be admitted, that the competition for it + will lie between landed men and merchants. And I scruple not to + affirm, that it is infinitely less likely that either of them should + gain an ascendant in the national councils, than that the one or the + other of them should predominate in all the local councils. The + inference will be, that a conduct tending to give an undue + preference to either is much less to be dreaded from the former than + from the latter. +The several States are in various degrees addicted to + agriculture and commerce. In most, if not all of them, agriculture + is predominant. In a few of them, however, commerce nearly divides + its empire, and in most of them has a considerable share of + influence. In proportion as either prevails, it will be conveyed + into the national representation; and for the very reason, that + this will be an emanation from a greater variety of interests, and + in much more various proportions, than are to be found in any single + State, it will be much less apt to espouse either of them with a + decided partiality, than the representation of any single State. +In a country consisting chiefly of the cultivators of land, + where the rules of an equal representation obtain, the landed + interest must, upon the whole, preponderate in the government. As + long as this interest prevails in most of the State legislatures, so + long it must maintain a correspondent superiority in the national + Senate, which will generally be a faithful copy of the majorities of + those assemblies. It cannot therefore be presumed, that a sacrifice + of the landed to the mercantile class will ever be a favorite object + of this branch of the federal legislature. In applying thus + particularly to the Senate a general observation suggested by the + situation of the country, I am governed by the consideration, that + the credulous votaries of State power cannot, upon their own + principles, suspect, that the State legislatures would be warped + from their duty by any external influence. But in reality the same + situation must have the same effect, in the primative composition at + least of the federal House of Representatives: an improper bias + towards the mercantile class is as little to be expected from this + quarter as from the other. +In order, perhaps, to give countenance to the objection at any + rate, it may be asked, is there not danger of an opposite bias in + the national government, which may dispose it to endeavor to secure + a monopoly of the federal administration to the landed class? As + there is little likelihood that the supposition of such a bias will + have any terrors for those who would be immediately injured by it, a + labored answer to this question will be dispensed with. It will be + sufficient to remark, first, that for the reasons elsewhere + assigned, it is less likely that any decided partiality should + prevail in the councils of the Union than in those of any of its + members. Secondly, that there would be no temptation to violate the + Constitution in favor of the landed class, because that class would, + in the natural course of things, enjoy as great a preponderancy as + itself could desire. And thirdly, that men accustomed to + investigate the sources of public prosperity upon a large scale, + must be too well convinced of the utility of commerce, to be + inclined to inflict upon it so deep a wound as would result from the + entire exclusion of those who would best understand its interest + from a share in the management of them. The importance of commerce, + in the view of revenue alone, must effectually guard it against the + enmity of a body which would be continually importuned in its favor, + by the urgent calls of public necessity. +I the rather consult brevity in discussing the probability of a + preference founded upon a discrimination between the different kinds + of industry and property, because, as far as I understand the + meaning of the objectors, they contemplate a discrimination of + another kind. They appear to have in view, as the objects of the + preference with which they endeavor to alarm us, those whom they + designate by the description of ``the wealthy and the well-born.'' + These, it seems, are to be exalted to an odious pre-eminence over + the rest of their fellow-citizens. At one time, however, their + elevation is to be a necessary consequence of the smallness of the + representative body; at another time it is to be effected by + depriving the people at large of the opportunity of exercising their + right of suffrage in the choice of that body. +But upon what principle is the discrimination of the places of + election to be made, in order to answer the purpose of the meditated + preference? Are ``the wealthy and the well-born,'' as they are + called, confined to particular spots in the several States? Have + they, by some miraculous instinct or foresight, set apart in each of + them a common place of residence? Are they only to be met with in + the towns or cities? Or are they, on the contrary, scattered over + the face of the country as avarice or chance may have happened to + cast their own lot or that of their predecessors? If the latter is + the case, (as every intelligent man knows it to be,1) is it not + evident that the policy of confining the places of election to + particular districts would be as subversive of its own aim as it + would be exceptionable on every other account? The truth is, that + there is no method of securing to the rich the preference + apprehended, but by prescribing qualifications of property either + for those who may elect or be elected. But this forms no part of + the power to be conferred upon the national government. Its + authority would be expressly restricted to the regulation of the + TIMES, the PLACES, the MANNER of elections. The qualifications of + the persons who may choose or be chosen, as has been remarked upon + other occasions, are defined and fixed in the Constitution, and are + unalterable by the legislature. +Let it, however, be admitted, for argument sake, that the + expedient suggested might be successful; and let it at the same + time be equally taken for granted that all the scruples which a + sense of duty or an apprehension of the danger of the experiment + might inspire, were overcome in the breasts of the national rulers, + still I imagine it will hardly be pretended that they could ever + hope to carry such an enterprise into execution without the aid of a + military force sufficient to subdue the resistance of the great body + of the people. The improbability of the existence of a force equal + to that object has been discussed and demonstrated in different + parts of these papers; but that the futility of the objection under + consideration may appear in the strongest light, it shall be + conceded for a moment that such a force might exist, and the + national government shall be supposed to be in the actual possession + of it. What will be the conclusion? With a disposition to invade + the essential rights of the community, and with the means of + gratifying that disposition, is it presumable that the persons who + were actuated by it would amuse themselves in the ridiculous task of + fabricating election laws for securing a preference to a favorite + class of men? Would they not be likely to prefer a conduct better + adapted to their own immediate aggrandizement? Would they not + rather boldly resolve to perpetuate themselves in office by one + decisive act of usurpation, than to trust to precarious expedients + which, in spite of all the precautions that might accompany them, + might terminate in the dismission, disgrace, and ruin of their + authors? Would they not fear that citizens, not less tenacious than + conscious of their rights, would flock from the remote extremes of + their respective States to the places of election, to overthrow + their tyrants, and to substitute men who would be disposed to avenge + the violated majesty of the people? +PUBLIUS. +1 Particularly in the Southern States and in this State. + + +FEDERALIST No. 61 + +The Same Subject Continued +(Concerning the Power of Congress to Regulate the Election of + Members) +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, February 26, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE more candid opposers of the provision respecting elections, + contained in the plan of the convention, when pressed in argument, + will sometimes concede the propriety of that provision; with this + qualification, however, that it ought to have been accompanied with + a declaration, that all elections should be had in the counties + where the electors resided. This, say they, was a necessary + precaution against an abuse of the power. A declaration of this + nature would certainly have been harmless; so far as it would have + had the effect of quieting apprehensions, it might not have been + undesirable. But it would, in fact, have afforded little or no + additional security against the danger apprehended; and the want of + it will never be considered, by an impartial and judicious examiner, + as a serious, still less as an insuperable, objection to the plan. + The different views taken of the subject in the two preceding + papers must be sufficient to satisfy all dispassionate and + discerning men, that if the public liberty should ever be the victim + of the ambition of the national rulers, the power under examination, + at least, will be guiltless of the sacrifice. +If those who are inclined to consult their jealousy only, would + exercise it in a careful inspection of the several State + constitutions, they would find little less room for disquietude and + alarm, from the latitude which most of them allow in respect to + elections, than from the latitude which is proposed to be allowed to + the national government in the same respect. A review of their + situation, in this particular, would tend greatly to remove any ill + impressions which may remain in regard to this matter. But as that + view would lead into long and tedious details, I shall content + myself with the single example of the State in which I write. The + constitution of New York makes no other provision for LOCALITY of + elections, than that the members of the Assembly shall be elected in + the COUNTIES; those of the Senate, in the great districts into + which the State is or may be divided: these at present are four in + number, and comprehend each from two to six counties. It may + readily be perceived that it would not be more difficult to the + legislature of New York to defeat the suffrages of the citizens of + New York, by confining elections to particular places, than for the + legislature of the United States to defeat the suffrages of the + citizens of the Union, by the like expedient. Suppose, for + instance, the city of Albany was to be appointed the sole place of + election for the county and district of which it is a part, would + not the inhabitants of that city speedily become the only electors + of the members both of the Senate and Assembly for that county and + district? Can we imagine that the electors who reside in the remote + subdivisions of the counties of Albany, Saratoga, Cambridge, etc., + or in any part of the county of Montgomery, would take the trouble + to come to the city of Albany, to give their votes for members of + the Assembly or Senate, sooner than they would repair to the city of + New York, to participate in the choice of the members of the federal + House of Representatives? The alarming indifference discoverable in + the exercise of so invaluable a privilege under the existing laws, + which afford every facility to it, furnishes a ready answer to this + question. And, abstracted from any experience on the subject, we + can be at no loss to determine, that when the place of election is + at an INCONVENIENT DISTANCE from the elector, the effect upon his + conduct will be the same whether that distance be twenty miles or + twenty thousand miles. Hence it must appear, that objections to the + particular modification of the federal power of regulating elections + will, in substance, apply with equal force to the modification of + the like power in the constitution of this State; and for this + reason it will be impossible to acquit the one, and to condemn the + other. A similar comparison would lead to the same conclusion in + respect to the constitutions of most of the other States. +If it should be said that defects in the State constitutions + furnish no apology for those which are to be found in the plan + proposed, I answer, that as the former have never been thought + chargeable with inattention to the security of liberty, where the + imputations thrown on the latter can be shown to be applicable to + them also, the presumption is that they are rather the cavilling + refinements of a predetermined opposition, than the well-founded + inferences of a candid research after truth. To those who are + disposed to consider, as innocent omissions in the State + constitutions, what they regard as unpardonable blemishes in the + plan of the convention, nothing can be said; or at most, they can + only be asked to assign some substantial reason why the + representatives of the people in a single State should be more + impregnable to the lust of power, or other sinister motives, than + the representatives of the people of the United States? If they + cannot do this, they ought at least to prove to us that it is easier + to subvert the liberties of three millions of people, with the + advantage of local governments to head their opposition, than of two + hundred thousand people who are destitute of that advantage. And in + relation to the point immediately under consideration, they ought to + convince us that it is less probable that a predominant faction in a + single State should, in order to maintain its superiority, incline + to a preference of a particular class of electors, than that a + similar spirit should take possession of the representatives of + thirteen States, spread over a vast region, and in several respects + distinguishable from each other by a diversity of local + circumstances, prejudices, and interests. +Hitherto my observations have only aimed at a vindication of the + provision in question, on the ground of theoretic propriety, on that + of the danger of placing the power elsewhere, and on that of the + safety of placing it in the manner proposed. But there remains to + be mentioned a positive advantage which will result from this + disposition, and which could not as well have been obtained from any + other: I allude to the circumstance of uniformity in the time of + elections for the federal House of Representatives. It is more than + possible that this uniformity may be found by experience to be of + great importance to the public welfare, both as a security against + the perpetuation of the same spirit in the body, and as a cure for + the diseases of faction. If each State may choose its own time of + election, it is possible there may be at least as many different + periods as there are months in the year. The times of election in + the several States, as they are now established for local purposes, + vary between extremes as wide as March and November. The + consequence of this diversity would be that there could never happen + a total dissolution or renovation of the body at one time. If an + improper spirit of any kind should happen to prevail in it, that + spirit would be apt to infuse itself into the new members, as they + come forward in succession. The mass would be likely to remain + nearly the same, assimilating constantly to itself its gradual + accretions. There is a contagion in example which few men have + sufficient force of mind to resist. I am inclined to think that + treble the duration in office, with the condition of a total + dissolution of the body at the same time, might be less formidable + to liberty than one third of that duration subject to gradual and + successive alterations. +Uniformity in the time of elections seems not less requisite for + executing the idea of a regular rotation in the Senate, and for + conveniently assembling the legislature at a stated period in each + year. +It may be asked, Why, then, could not a time have been fixed in + the Constitution? As the most zealous adversaries of the plan of + the convention in this State are, in general, not less zealous + admirers of the constitution of the State, the question may be + retorted, and it may be asked, Why was not a time for the like + purpose fixed in the constitution of this State? No better answer + can be given than that it was a matter which might safely be + entrusted to legislative discretion; and that if a time had been + appointed, it might, upon experiment, have been found less + convenient than some other time. The same answer may be given to + the question put on the other side. And it may be added that the + supposed danger of a gradual change being merely speculative, it + would have been hardly advisable upon that speculation to establish, + as a fundamental point, what would deprive several States of the + convenience of having the elections for their own governments and + for the national government at the same epochs. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 62 + +The Senate +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +HAVING examined the constitution of the House of + Representatives, and answered such of the objections against it as + seemed to merit notice, I enter next on the examination of the + Senate. +The heads into which this member of the government may be + considered are: I. The qualification of senators; II. The + appointment of them by the State legislatures; III. The equality of + representation in the Senate; IV. The number of senators, and the + term for which they are to be elected; V. The powers vested in the + Senate. +I. The qualifications proposed for senators, as distinguished + from those of representatives, consist in a more advanced age and a + longer period of citizenship. A senator must be thirty years of age + at least; as a representative must be twenty-five. And the former + must have been a citizen nine years; as seven years are required + for the latter. The propriety of these distinctions is explained by + the nature of the senatorial trust, which, requiring greater extent + of information and stability of character, requires at the same time + that the senator should have reached a period of life most likely to + supply these advantages; and which, participating immediately in + transactions with foreign nations, ought to be exercised by none who + are not thoroughly weaned from the prepossessions and habits + incident to foreign birth and education. The term of nine years + appears to be a prudent mediocrity between a total exclusion of + adopted citizens, whose merits and talents may claim a share in the + public confidence, and an indiscriminate and hasty admission of + them, which might create a channel for foreign influence on the + national councils. +II. It is equally unnecessary to dilate on the appointment of + senators by the State legislatures. Among the various modes which + might have been devised for constituting this branch of the + government, that which has been proposed by the convention is + probably the most congenial with the public opinion. It is + recommended by the double advantage of favoring a select + appointment, and of giving to the State governments such an agency + in the formation of the federal government as must secure the + authority of the former, and may form a convenient link between the + two systems. +III. The equality of representation in the Senate is another + point, which, being evidently the result of compromise between the + opposite pretensions of the large and the small States, does not + call for much discussion. If indeed it be right, that among a + people thoroughly incorporated into one nation, every district ought + to have a PROPORTIONAL share in the government, and that among + independent and sovereign States, bound together by a simple league, + the parties, however unequal in size, ought to have an EQUAL share + in the common councils, it does not appear to be without some reason + that in a compound republic, partaking both of the national and + federal character, the government ought to be founded on a mixture + of the principles of proportional and equal representation. But it + is superfluous to try, by the standard of theory, a part of the + Constitution which is allowed on all hands to be the result, not of + theory, but ``of a spirit of amity, and that mutual deference and + concession which the peculiarity of our political situation rendered + indispensable.'' A common government, with powers equal to its + objects, is called for by the voice, and still more loudly by the + political situation, of America. A government founded on principles + more consonant to the wishes of the larger States, is not likely to + be obtained from the smaller States. The only option, then, for the + former, lies between the proposed government and a government still + more objectionable. Under this alternative, the advice of prudence + must be to embrace the lesser evil; and, instead of indulging a + fruitless anticipation of the possible mischiefs which may ensue, to + contemplate rather the advantageous consequences which may qualify + the sacrifice. +In this spirit it may be remarked, that the equal vote allowed + to each State is at once a constitutional recognition of the portion + of sovereignty remaining in the individual States, and an instrument + for preserving that residuary sovereignty. So far the equality + ought to be no less acceptable to the large than to the small + States; since they are not less solicitous to guard, by every + possible expedient, against an improper consolidation of the States + into one simple republic. +Another advantage accruing from this ingredient in the + constitution of the Senate is, the additional impediment it must + prove against improper acts of legislation. No law or resolution + can now be passed without the concurrence, first, of a majority of + the people, and then, of a majority of the States. It must be + acknowledged that this complicated check on legislation may in some + instances be injurious as well as beneficial; and that the peculiar + defense which it involves in favor of the smaller States, would be + more rational, if any interests common to them, and distinct from + those of the other States, would otherwise be exposed to peculiar + danger. But as the larger States will always be able, by their + power over the supplies, to defeat unreasonable exertions of this + prerogative of the lesser States, and as the faculty and excess of + law-making seem to be the diseases to which our governments are most + liable, it is not impossible that this part of the Constitution may + be more convenient in practice than it appears to many in + contemplation. +IV. The number of senators, and the duration of their + appointment, come next to be considered. In order to form an + accurate judgment on both of these points, it will be proper to + inquire into the purposes which are to be answered by a senate; and + in order to ascertain these, it will be necessary to review the + inconveniences which a republic must suffer from the want of such an + institution. +First. It is a misfortune incident to republican + government, though in a less degree than to other governments, that + those who administer it may forget their obligations to their + constituents, and prove unfaithful to their important trust. In + this point of view, a senate, as a second branch of the legislative + assembly, distinct from, and dividing the power with, a first, must + be in all cases a salutary check on the government. It doubles the + security to the people, by requiring the concurrence of two distinct + bodies in schemes of usurpation or perfidy, where the ambition or + corruption of one would otherwise be sufficient. This is a + precaution founded on such clear principles, and now so well + understood in the United States, that it would be more than + superfluous to enlarge on it. I will barely remark, that as the + improbability of sinister combinations will be in proportion to the + dissimilarity in the genius of the two bodies, it must be politic to + distinguish them from each other by every circumstance which will + consist with a due harmony in all proper measures, and with the + genuine principles of republican government. +Secondly. The necessity of a senate is not less indicated + by the propensity of all single and numerous assemblies to yield to + the impulse of sudden and violent passions, and to be seduced by + factious leaders into intemperate and pernicious resolutions. + Examples on this subject might be cited without number; and from + proceedings within the United States, as well as from the history of + other nations. But a position that will not be contradicted, need + not be proved. All that need be remarked is, that a body which is + to correct this infirmity ought itself to be free from it, and + consequently ought to be less numerous. It ought, moreover, to + possess great firmness, and consequently ought to hold its authority + by a tenure of considerable duration. +Thirdly. Another defect to be supplied by a senate lies in + a want of due acquaintance with the objects and principles of + legislation. It is not possible that an assembly of men called for + the most part from pursuits of a private nature, continued in + appointment for a short time, and led by no permanent motive to + devote the intervals of public occupation to a study of the laws, + the affairs, and the comprehensive interests of their country, + should, if left wholly to themselves, escape a variety of important + errors in the exercise of their legislative trust. It may be + affirmed, on the best grounds, that no small share of the present + embarrassments of America is to be charged on the blunders of our + governments; and that these have proceeded from the heads rather + than the hearts of most of the authors of them. What indeed are all + the repealing, explaining, and amending laws, which fill and + disgrace our voluminous codes, but so many monuments of deficient + wisdom; so many impeachments exhibited by each succeeding against + each preceding session; so many admonitions to the people, of the + value of those aids which may be expected from a well-constituted + senate? +A good government implies two things: first, fidelity to the + object of government, which is the happiness of the people; + secondly, a knowledge of the means by which that object can be best + attained. Some governments are deficient in both these qualities; + most governments are deficient in the first. I scruple not to + assert, that in American governments too little attention has been + paid to the last. The federal Constitution avoids this error; and + what merits particular notice, it provides for the last in a mode + which increases the security for the first. +Fourthly. The mutability in the public councils arising + from a rapid succession of new members, however qualified they may + be, points out, in the strongest manner, the necessity of some + stable institution in the government. Every new election in the + States is found to change one half of the representatives. From + this change of men must proceed a change of opinions; and from a + change of opinions, a change of measures. But a continual change + even of good measures is inconsistent with every rule of prudence + and every prospect of success. The remark is verified in private + life, and becomes more just, as well as more important, in national + transactions. +To trace the mischievous effects of a mutable government would + fill a volume. I will hint a few only, each of which will be + perceived to be a source of innumerable others. +In the first place, it forfeits the respect and confidence of + other nations, and all the advantages connected with national + character. An individual who is observed to be inconstant to his + plans, or perhaps to carry on his affairs without any plan at all, + is marked at once, by all prudent people, as a speedy victim to his + own unsteadiness and folly. His more friendly neighbors may pity + him, but all will decline to connect their fortunes with his; and + not a few will seize the opportunity of making their fortunes out of + his. One nation is to another what one individual is to another; + with this melancholy distinction perhaps, that the former, with + fewer of the benevolent emotions than the latter, are under fewer + restraints also from taking undue advantage from the indiscretions + of each other. Every nation, consequently, whose affairs betray a + want of wisdom and stability, may calculate on every loss which can + be sustained from the more systematic policy of their wiser + neighbors. But the best instruction on this subject is unhappily + conveyed to America by the example of her own situation. She finds + that she is held in no respect by her friends; that she is the + derision of her enemies; and that she is a prey to every nation + which has an interest in speculating on her fluctuating councils and + embarrassed affairs. +The internal effects of a mutable policy are still more + calamitous. It poisons the blessing of liberty itself. It will be + of little avail to the people, that the laws are made by men of + their own choice, if the laws be so voluminous that they cannot be + read, or so incoherent that they cannot be understood; if they be + repealed or revised before they are promulgated, or undergo such + incessant changes that no man, who knows what the law is to-day, can + guess what it will be to-morrow. Law is defined to be a rule of + action; but how can that be a rule, which is little known, and less + fixed? +Another effect of public instability is the unreasonable + advantage it gives to the sagacious, the enterprising, and the + moneyed few over the industrious and uniformed mass of the people. + Every new regulation concerning commerce or revenue, or in any way + affecting the value of the different species of property, presents a + new harvest to those who watch the change, and can trace its + consequences; a harvest, reared not by themselves, but by the toils + and cares of the great body of their fellow-citizens. This is a + state of things in which it may be said with some truth that laws + are made for the FEW, not for the MANY. +In another point of view, great injury results from an unstable + government. The want of confidence in the public councils damps + every useful undertaking, the success and profit of which may depend + on a continuance of existing arrangements. What prudent merchant + will hazard his fortunes in any new branch of commerce when he knows + not but that his plans may be rendered unlawful before they can be + executed? What farmer or manufacturer will lay himself out for the + encouragement given to any particular cultivation or establishment, + when he can have no assurance that his preparatory labors and + advances will not render him a victim to an inconstant government? + In a word, no great improvement or laudable enterprise can go + forward which requires the auspices of a steady system of national + policy. +But the most deplorable effect of all is that diminution of + attachment and reverence which steals into the hearts of the people, + towards a political system which betrays so many marks of infirmity, + and disappoints so many of their flattering hopes. No government, + any more than an individual, will long be respected without being + truly respectable; nor be truly respectable, without possessing a + certain portion of order and stability. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST. No. 63 + +The Senate Continued +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON OR MADISON + +To the People of the State of New York: +A FIFTH desideratum, illustrating the utility of a senate, is + the want of a due sense of national character. Without a select and + stable member of the government, the esteem of foreign powers will + not only be forfeited by an unenlightened and variable policy, + proceeding from the causes already mentioned, but the national + councils will not possess that sensibility to the opinion of the + world, which is perhaps not less necessary in order to merit, than + it is to obtain, its respect and confidence. +An attention to the judgment of other nations is important to + every government for two reasons: the one is, that, independently + of the merits of any particular plan or measure, it is desirable, on + various accounts, that it should appear to other nations as the + offspring of a wise and honorable policy; the second is, that in + doubtful cases, particularly where the national councils may be + warped by some strong passion or momentary interest, the presumed or + known opinion of the impartial world may be the best guide that can + be followed. What has not America lost by her want of character + with foreign nations; and how many errors and follies would she not + have avoided, if the justice and propriety of her measures had, in + every instance, been previously tried by the light in which they + would probably appear to the unbiased part of mankind? +Yet however requisite a sense of national character may be, it + is evident that it can never be sufficiently possessed by a numerous + and changeable body. It can only be found in a number so small that + a sensible degree of the praise and blame of public measures may be + the portion of each individual; or in an assembly so durably + invested with public trust, that the pride and consequence of its + members may be sensibly incorporated with the reputation and + prosperity of the community. The half-yearly representatives of + Rhode Island would probably have been little affected in their + deliberations on the iniquitous measures of that State, by arguments + drawn from the light in which such measures would be viewed by + foreign nations, or even by the sister States; whilst it can + scarcely be doubted that if the concurrence of a select and stable + body had been necessary, a regard to national character alone would + have prevented the calamities under which that misguided people is + now laboring. +I add, as a SIXTH defect the want, in some important cases, of a + due responsibility in the government to the people, arising from + that frequency of elections which in other cases produces this + responsibility. This remark will, perhaps, appear not only new, but + paradoxical. It must nevertheless be acknowledged, when explained, + to be as undeniable as it is important. +Responsibility, in order to be reasonable, must be limited to + objects within the power of the responsible party, and in order to + be effectual, must relate to operations of that power, of which a + ready and proper judgment can be formed by the constituents. The + objects of government may be divided into two general classes: the + one depending on measures which have singly an immediate and + sensible operation; the other depending on a succession of + well-chosen and well-connected measures, which have a gradual and + perhaps unobserved operation. The importance of the latter + description to the collective and permanent welfare of every + country, needs no explanation. And yet it is evident that an + assembly elected for so short a term as to be unable to provide more + than one or two links in a chain of measures, on which the general + welfare may essentially depend, ought not to be answerable for the + final result, any more than a steward or tenant, engaged for one + year, could be justly made to answer for places or improvements + which could not be accomplished in less than half a dozen years. + Nor is it possible for the people to estimate the SHARE of + influence which their annual assemblies may respectively have on + events resulting from the mixed transactions of several years. It + is sufficiently difficult to preserve a personal responsibility in + the members of a NUMEROUS body, for such acts of the body as have an + immediate, detached, and palpable operation on its constituents. +The proper remedy for this defect must be an additional body in + the legislative department, which, having sufficient permanency to + provide for such objects as require a continued attention, and a + train of measures, may be justly and effectually answerable for the + attainment of those objects. +Thus far I have considered the circumstances which point out the + necessity of a well-constructed Senate only as they relate to the + representatives of the people. To a people as little blinded by + prejudice or corrupted by flattery as those whom I address, I shall + not scruple to add, that such an institution may be sometimes + necessary as a defense to the people against their own temporary + errors and delusions. As the cool and deliberate sense of the + community ought, in all governments, and actually will, in all free + governments, ultimately prevail over the views of its rulers; so + there are particular moments in public affairs when the people, + stimulated by some irregular passion, or some illicit advantage, or + misled by the artful misrepresentations of interested men, may call + for measures which they themselves will afterwards be the most ready + to lament and condemn. In these critical moments, how salutary will + be the interference of some temperate and respectable body of + citizens, in order to check the misguided career, and to suspend the + blow meditated by the people against themselves, until reason, + justice, and truth can regain their authority over the public mind? + What bitter anguish would not the people of Athens have often + escaped if their government had contained so provident a safeguard + against the tyranny of their own passions? Popular liberty might + then have escaped the indelible reproach of decreeing to the same + citizens the hemlock on one day and statues on the next. +It may be suggested, that a people spread over an extensive + region cannot, like the crowded inhabitants of a small district, be + subject to the infection of violent passions, or to the danger of + combining in pursuit of unjust measures. I am far from denying that + this is a distinction of peculiar importance. I have, on the + contrary, endeavored in a former paper to show, that it is one of + the principal recommendations of a confederated republic. At the + same time, this advantage ought not to be considered as superseding + the use of auxiliary precautions. It may even be remarked, that the + same extended situation, which will exempt the people of America + from some of the dangers incident to lesser republics, will expose + them to the inconveniency of remaining for a longer time under the + influence of those misrepresentations which the combined industry of + interested men may succeed in distributing among them. +It adds no small weight to all these considerations, to + recollect that history informs us of no long-lived republic which + had not a senate. Sparta, Rome, and Carthage are, in fact, the only + states to whom that character can be applied. In each of the two + first there was a senate for life. The constitution of the senate + in the last is less known. Circumstantial evidence makes it + probable that it was not different in this particular from the two + others. It is at least certain, that it had some quality or other + which rendered it an anchor against popular fluctuations; and that + a smaller council, drawn out of the senate, was appointed not only + for life, but filled up vacancies itself. These examples, though as + unfit for the imitation, as they are repugnant to the genius, of + America, are, notwithstanding, when compared with the fugitive and + turbulent existence of other ancient republics, very instructive + proofs of the necessity of some institution that will blend + stability with liberty. I am not unaware of the circumstances which + distinguish the American from other popular governments, as well + ancient as modern; and which render extreme circumspection + necessary, in reasoning from the one case to the other. But after + allowing due weight to this consideration, it may still be + maintained, that there are many points of similitude which render + these examples not unworthy of our attention. Many of the defects, + as we have seen, which can only be supplied by a senatorial + institution, are common to a numerous assembly frequently elected by + the people, and to the people themselves. There are others peculiar + to the former, which require the control of such an institution. + The people can never wilfully betray their own interests; but they + may possibly be betrayed by the representatives of the people; and + the danger will be evidently greater where the whole legislative + trust is lodged in the hands of one body of men, than where the + concurrence of separate and dissimilar bodies is required in every + public act. +The difference most relied on, between the American and other + republics, consists in the principle of representation; which is + the pivot on which the former move, and which is supposed to have + been unknown to the latter, or at least to the ancient part of them. + The use which has been made of this difference, in reasonings + contained in former papers, will have shown that I am disposed + neither to deny its existence nor to undervalue its importance. I + feel the less restraint, therefore, in observing, that the position + concerning the ignorance of the ancient governments on the subject + of representation, is by no means precisely true in the latitude + commonly given to it. Without entering into a disquisition which + here would be misplaced, I will refer to a few known facts, in + support of what I advance. +In the most pure democracies of Greece, many of the executive + functions were performed, not by the people themselves, but by + officers elected by the people, and REPRESENTING the people in their + EXECUTIVE capacity. +Prior to the reform of Solon, Athens was governed by nine + Archons, annually ELECTED BY THE PEOPLE AT LARGE. The degree of + power delegated to them seems to be left in great obscurity. + Subsequent to that period, we find an assembly, first of four, and + afterwards of six hundred members, annually ELECTED BY THE PEOPLE; + and PARTIALLY representing them in their LEGISLATIVE capacity, + since they were not only associated with the people in the function + of making laws, but had the exclusive right of originating + legislative propositions to the people. The senate of Carthage, + also, whatever might be its power, or the duration of its + appointment, appears to have been ELECTIVE by the suffrages of the + people. Similar instances might be traced in most, if not all the + popular governments of antiquity. +Lastly, in Sparta we meet with the Ephori, and in Rome with the + Tribunes; two bodies, small indeed in numbers, but annually ELECTED + BY THE WHOLE BODY OF THE PEOPLE, and considered as the + REPRESENTATIVES of the people, almost in their PLENIPOTENTIARY + capacity. The Cosmi of Crete were also annually ELECTED BY THE + PEOPLE, and have been considered by some authors as an institution + analogous to those of Sparta and Rome, with this difference only, + that in the election of that representative body the right of + suffrage was communicated to a part only of the people. +From these facts, to which many others might be added, it is + clear that the principle of representation was neither unknown to + the ancients nor wholly overlooked in their political constitutions. + The true distinction between these and the American governments, + lies IN THE TOTAL EXCLUSION OF THE PEOPLE, IN THEIR COLLECTIVE + CAPACITY, from any share in the LATTER, and not in the TOTAL + EXCLUSION OF THE REPRESENTATIVES OF THE PEOPLE from the + administration of the FORMER. The distinction, however, thus + qualified, must be admitted to leave a most advantageous superiority + in favor of the United States. But to insure to this advantage its + full effect, we must be careful not to separate it from the other + advantage, of an extensive territory. For it cannot be believed, + that any form of representative government could have succeeded + within the narrow limits occupied by the democracies of Greece. +In answer to all these arguments, suggested by reason, + illustrated by examples, and enforced by our own experience, the + jealous adversary of the Constitution will probably content himself + with repeating, that a senate appointed not immediately by the + people, and for the term of six years, must gradually acquire a + dangerous pre-eminence in the government, and finally transform it + into a tyrannical aristocracy. +To this general answer, the general reply ought to be + sufficient, that liberty may be endangered by the abuses of liberty + as well as by the abuses of power; that there are numerous + instances of the former as well as of the latter; and that the + former, rather than the latter, are apparently most to be + apprehended by the United States. But a more particular reply may + be given. +Before such a revolution can be effected, the Senate, it is to + be observed, must in the first place corrupt itself; must next + corrupt the State legislatures; must then corrupt the House of + Representatives; and must finally corrupt the people at large. It + is evident that the Senate must be first corrupted before it can + attempt an establishment of tyranny. Without corrupting the State + legislatures, it cannot prosecute the attempt, because the + periodical change of members would otherwise regenerate the whole + body. Without exerting the means of corruption with equal success + on the House of Representatives, the opposition of that coequal + branch of the government would inevitably defeat the attempt; and + without corrupting the people themselves, a succession of new + representatives would speedily restore all things to their pristine + order. Is there any man who can seriously persuade himself that the + proposed Senate can, by any possible means within the compass of + human address, arrive at the object of a lawless ambition, through + all these obstructions? +If reason condemns the suspicion, the same sentence is + pronounced by experience. The constitution of Maryland furnishes + the most apposite example. The Senate of that State is elected, as + the federal Senate will be, indirectly by the people, and for a term + less by one year only than the federal Senate. It is distinguished, + also, by the remarkable prerogative of filling up its own vacancies + within the term of its appointment, and, at the same time, is not + under the control of any such rotation as is provided for the + federal Senate. There are some other lesser distinctions, which + would expose the former to colorable objections, that do not lie + against the latter. If the federal Senate, therefore, really + contained the danger which has been so loudly proclaimed, some + symptoms at least of a like danger ought by this time to have been + betrayed by the Senate of Maryland, but no such symptoms have + appeared. On the contrary, the jealousies at first entertained by + men of the same description with those who view with terror the + correspondent part of the federal Constitution, have been gradually + extinguished by the progress of the experiment; and the Maryland + constitution is daily deriving, from the salutary operation of this + part of it, a reputation in which it will probably not be rivalled + by that of any State in the Union. +But if any thing could silence the jealousies on this subject, + it ought to be the British example. The Senate there instead of + being elected for a term of six years, and of being unconfined to + particular families or fortunes, is an hereditary assembly of + opulent nobles. The House of Representatives, instead of being + elected for two years, and by the whole body of the people, is + elected for seven years, and, in very great proportion, by a very + small proportion of the people. Here, unquestionably, ought to be + seen in full display the aristocratic usurpations and tyranny which + are at some future period to be exemplified in the United States. + Unfortunately, however, for the anti-federal argument, the British + history informs us that this hereditary assembly has not been able + to defend itself against the continual encroachments of the House of + Representatives; and that it no sooner lost the support of the + monarch, than it was actually crushed by the weight of the popular + branch. +As far as antiquity can instruct us on this subject, its + examples support the reasoning which we have employed. In Sparta, + the Ephori, the annual representatives of the people, were found an + overmatch for the senate for life, continually gained on its + authority and finally drew all power into their own hands. The + Tribunes of Rome, who were the representatives of the people, + prevailed, it is well known, in almost every contest with the senate + for life, and in the end gained the most complete triumph over it. + The fact is the more remarkable, as unanimity was required in every + act of the Tribunes, even after their number was augmented to ten. + It proves the irresistible force possessed by that branch of a free + government, which has the people on its side. To these examples + might be added that of Carthage, whose senate, according to the + testimony of Polybius, instead of drawing all power into its vortex, + had, at the commencement of the second Punic War, lost almost the + whole of its original portion. +Besides the conclusive evidence resulting from this assemblage + of facts, that the federal Senate will never be able to transform + itself, by gradual usurpations, into an independent and aristocratic + body, we are warranted in believing, that if such a revolution + should ever happen from causes which the foresight of man cannot + guard against, the House of Representatives, with the people on + their side, will at all times be able to bring back the Constitution + to its primitive form and principles. Against the force of the + immediate representatives of the people, nothing will be able to + maintain even the constitutional authority of the Senate, but such a + display of enlightened policy, and attachment to the public good, as + will divide with that branch of the legislature the affections and + support of the entire body of the people themselves. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 64 + +The Powers of the Senate +From the New York Packet. +Friday, March 7, 1788. + +JAY + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT IS a just and not a new observation, that enemies to + particular persons, and opponents to particular measures, seldom + confine their censures to such things only in either as are worthy + of blame. Unless on this principle, it is difficult to explain the + motives of their conduct, who condemn the proposed Constitution in + the aggregate, and treat with severity some of the most + unexceptionable articles in it. +The second section gives power to the President, ``BY AND WITH + THE ADVICE AND CONSENT OF THE SENATE, TO MAKE TREATIES, PROVIDED TWO + THIRDS OF THE SENATORS PRESENT CONCUR.'' +The power of making treaties is an important one, especially as + it relates to war, peace, and commerce; and it should not be + delegated but in such a mode, and with such precautions, as will + afford the highest security that it will be exercised by men the + best qualified for the purpose, and in the manner most conducive to + the public good. The convention appears to have been attentive to + both these points: they have directed the President to be chosen by + select bodies of electors, to be deputed by the people for that + express purpose; and they have committed the appointment of + senators to the State legislatures. This mode has, in such cases, + vastly the advantage of elections by the people in their collective + capacity, where the activity of party zeal, taking the advantage of + the supineness, the ignorance, and the hopes and fears of the unwary + and interested, often places men in office by the votes of a small + proportion of the electors. +As the select assemblies for choosing the President, as well as + the State legislatures who appoint the senators, will in general be + composed of the most enlightened and respectable citizens, there is + reason to presume that their attention and their votes will be + directed to those men only who have become the most distinguished by + their abilities and virtue, and in whom the people perceive just + grounds for confidence. The Constitution manifests very particular + attention to this object. By excluding men under thirty-five from + the first office, and those under thirty from the second, it + confines the electors to men of whom the people have had time to + form a judgment, and with respect to whom they will not be liable to + be deceived by those brilliant appearances of genius and patriotism, + which, like transient meteors, sometimes mislead as well as dazzle. + If the observation be well founded, that wise kings will always be + served by able ministers, it is fair to argue, that as an assembly + of select electors possess, in a greater degree than kings, the + means of extensive and accurate information relative to men and + characters, so will their appointments bear at least equal marks of + discretion and discernment. The inference which naturally results + from these considerations is this, that the President and senators + so chosen will always be of the number of those who best understand + our national interests, whether considered in relation to the + several States or to foreign nations, who are best able to promote + those interests, and whose reputation for integrity inspires and + merits confidence. With such men the power of making treaties may + be safely lodged. +Although the absolute necessity of system, in the conduct of any + business, is universally known and acknowledged, yet the high + importance of it in national affairs has not yet become sufficiently + impressed on the public mind. They who wish to commit the power + under consideration to a popular assembly, composed of members + constantly coming and going in quick succession, seem not to + recollect that such a body must necessarily be inadequate to the + attainment of those great objects, which require to be steadily + contemplated in all their relations and circumstances, and which can + only be approached and achieved by measures which not only talents, + but also exact information, and often much time, are necessary to + concert and to execute. It was wise, therefore, in the convention + to provide, not only that the power of making treaties should be + committed to able and honest men, but also that they should continue + in place a sufficient time to become perfectly acquainted with our + national concerns, and to form and introduce a a system for the + management of them. The duration prescribed is such as will give + them an opportunity of greatly extending their political + information, and of rendering their accumulating experience more and + more beneficial to their country. Nor has the convention discovered + less prudence in providing for the frequent elections of senators in + such a way as to obviate the inconvenience of periodically + transferring those great affairs entirely to new men; for by + leaving a considerable residue of the old ones in place, uniformity + and order, as well as a constant succession of official information + will be preserved. +There are a few who will not admit that the affairs of trade and + navigation should be regulated by a system cautiously formed and + steadily pursued; and that both our treaties and our laws should + correspond with and be made to promote it. It is of much + consequence that this correspondence and conformity be carefully + maintained; and they who assent to the truth of this position will + see and confess that it is well provided for by making concurrence + of the Senate necessary both to treaties and to laws. +It seldom happens in the negotiation of treaties, of whatever + nature, but that perfect SECRECY and immediate DESPATCH are + sometimes requisite. These are cases where the most useful + intelligence may be obtained, if the persons possessing it can be + relieved from apprehensions of discovery. Those apprehensions will + operate on those persons whether they are actuated by mercenary or + friendly motives; and there doubtless are many of both + descriptions, who would rely on the secrecy of the President, but + who would not confide in that of the Senate, and still less in that + of a large popular Assembly. The convention have done well, + therefore, in so disposing of the power of making treaties, that + although the President must, in forming them, act by the advice and + consent of the Senate, yet he will be able to manage the business of + intelligence in such a manner as prudence may suggest. +They who have turned their attention to the affairs of men, must + have perceived that there are tides in them; tides very irregular + in their duration, strength, and direction, and seldom found to run + twice exactly in the same manner or measure. To discern and to + profit by these tides in national affairs is the business of those + who preside over them; and they who have had much experience on + this head inform us, that there frequently are occasions when days, + nay, even when hours, are precious. The loss of a battle, the death + of a prince, the removal of a minister, or other circumstances + intervening to change the present posture and aspect of affairs, may + turn the most favorable tide into a course opposite to our wishes. + As in the field, so in the cabinet, there are moments to be seized + as they pass, and they who preside in either should be left in + capacity to improve them. So often and so essentially have we + heretofore suffered from the want of secrecy and despatch, that the + Constitution would have been inexcusably defective, if no attention + had been paid to those objects. Those matters which in negotiations + usually require the most secrecy and the most despatch, are those + preparatory and auxiliary measures which are not otherwise important + in a national view, than as they tend to facilitate the attainment + of the objects of the negotiation. For these, the President will + find no difficulty to provide; and should any circumstance occur + which requires the advice and consent of the Senate, he may at any + time convene them. Thus we see that the Constitution provides that + our negotiations for treaties shall have every advantage which can + be derived from talents, information, integrity, and deliberate + investigations, on the one hand, and from secrecy and despatch on + the other. +But to this plan, as to most others that have ever appeared, + objections are contrived and urged. +Some are displeased with it, not on account of any errors or + defects in it, but because, as the treaties, when made, are to have + the force of laws, they should be made only by men invested with + legislative authority. These gentlemen seem not to consider that + the judgments of our courts, and the commissions constitutionally + given by our governor, are as valid and as binding on all persons + whom they concern, as the laws passed by our legislature. All + constitutional acts of power, whether in the executive or in the + judicial department, have as much legal validity and obligation as + if they proceeded from the legislature; and therefore, whatever + name be given to the power of making treaties, or however obligatory + they may be when made, certain it is, that the people may, with much + propriety, commit the power to a distinct body from the legislature, + the executive, or the judicial. It surely does not follow, that + because they have given the power of making laws to the legislature, + that therefore they should likewise give them the power to do every + other act of sovereignty by which the citizens are to be bound and + affected. +Others, though content that treaties should be made in the mode + proposed, are averse to their being the SUPREME laws of the land. + They insist, and profess to believe, that treaties like acts of + assembly, should be repealable at pleasure. This idea seems to be + new and peculiar to this country, but new errors, as well as new + truths, often appear. These gentlemen would do well to reflect that + a treaty is only another name for a bargain, and that it would be + impossible to find a nation who would make any bargain with us, + which should be binding on them ABSOLUTELY, but on us only so long + and so far as we may think proper to be bound by it. They who make + laws may, without doubt, amend or repeal them; and it will not be + disputed that they who make treaties may alter or cancel them; but + still let us not forget that treaties are made, not by only one of + the contracting parties, but by both; and consequently, that as the + consent of both was essential to their formation at first, so must + it ever afterwards be to alter or cancel them. The proposed + Constitution, therefore, has not in the least extended the + obligation of treaties. They are just as binding, and just as far + beyond the lawful reach of legislative acts now, as they will be at + any future period, or under any form of government. +However useful jealousy may be in republics, yet when like bile + in the natural, it abounds too much in the body politic, the eyes of + both become very liable to be deceived by the delusive appearances + which that malady casts on surrounding objects. From this cause, + probably, proceed the fears and apprehensions of some, that the + President and Senate may make treaties without an equal eye to the + interests of all the States. Others suspect that two thirds will + oppress the remaining third, and ask whether those gentlemen are + made sufficiently responsible for their conduct; whether, if they + act corruptly, they can be punished; and if they make + disadvantageous treaties, how are we to get rid of those treaties? +As all the States are equally represented in the Senate, and by + men the most able and the most willing to promote the interests of + their constituents, they will all have an equal degree of influence + in that body, especially while they continue to be careful in + appointing proper persons, and to insist on their punctual + attendance. In proportion as the United States assume a national + form and a national character, so will the good of the whole be more + and more an object of attention, and the government must be a weak + one indeed, if it should forget that the good of the whole can only + be promoted by advancing the good of each of the parts or members + which compose the whole. It will not be in the power of the + President and Senate to make any treaties by which they and their + families and estates will not be equally bound and affected with the + rest of the community; and, having no private interests distinct + from that of the nation, they will be under no temptations to + neglect the latter. +As to corruption, the case is not supposable. He must either + have been very unfortunate in his intercourse with the world, or + possess a heart very susceptible of such impressions, who can think + it probable that the President and two thirds of the Senate will + ever be capable of such unworthy conduct. The idea is too gross and + too invidious to be entertained. But in such a case, if it should + ever happen, the treaty so obtained from us would, like all other + fraudulent contracts, be null and void by the law of nations. +With respect to their responsibility, it is difficult to + conceive how it could be increased. Every consideration that can + influence the human mind, such as honor, oaths, reputations, + conscience, the love of country, and family affections and + attachments, afford security for their fidelity. In short, as the + Constitution has taken the utmost care that they shall be men of + talents and integrity, we have reason to be persuaded that the + treaties they make will be as advantageous as, all circumstances + considered, could be made; and so far as the fear of punishment and + disgrace can operate, that motive to good behavior is amply afforded + by the article on the subject of impeachments. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 65 + +The Powers of the Senate Continued +From the New York Packet. +Friday, March 7, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE remaining powers which the plan of the convention allots to + the Senate, in a distinct capacity, are comprised in their + participation with the executive in the appointment to offices, and + in their judicial character as a court for the trial of impeachments. + As in the business of appointments the executive will be the + principal agent, the provisions relating to it will most properly be + discussed in the examination of that department. We will, + therefore, conclude this head with a view of the judicial character + of the Senate. +A well-constituted court for the trial of impeachments is an + object not more to be desired than difficult to be obtained in a + government wholly elective. The subjects of its jurisdiction are + those offenses which proceed from the misconduct of public men, or, + in other words, from the abuse or violation of some public trust. + They are of a nature which may with peculiar propriety be + denominated POLITICAL, as they relate chiefly to injuries done + immediately to the society itself. The prosecution of them, for + this reason, will seldom fail to agitate the passions of the whole + community, and to divide it into parties more or less friendly or + inimical to the accused. In many cases it will connect itself with + the pre-existing factions, and will enlist all their animosities, + partialities, influence, and interest on one side or on the other; + and in such cases there will always be the greatest danger that the + decision will be regulated more by the comparative strength of + parties, than by the real demonstrations of innocence or guilt. +The delicacy and magnitude of a trust which so deeply concerns + the political reputation and existence of every man engaged in the + administration of public affairs, speak for themselves. The + difficulty of placing it rightly, in a government resting entirely + on the basis of periodical elections, will as readily be perceived, + when it is considered that the most conspicuous characters in it + will, from that circumstance, be too often the leaders or the tools + of the most cunning or the most numerous faction, and on this + account, can hardly be expected to possess the requisite neutrality + towards those whose conduct may be the subject of scrutiny. +The convention, it appears, thought the Senate the most fit + depositary of this important trust. Those who can best discern the + intrinsic difficulty of the thing, will be least hasty in condemning + that opinion, and will be most inclined to allow due weight to the + arguments which may be supposed to have produced it. +What, it may be asked, is the true spirit of the institution + itself? Is it not designed as a method of NATIONAL INQUEST into the + conduct of public men? If this be the design of it, who can so + properly be the inquisitors for the nation as the representatives of + the nation themselves? It is not disputed that the power of + originating the inquiry, or, in other words, of preferring the + impeachment, ought to be lodged in the hands of one branch of the + legislative body. Will not the reasons which indicate the propriety + of this arrangement strongly plead for an admission of the other + branch of that body to a share of the inquiry? The model from which + the idea of this institution has been borrowed, pointed out that + course to the convention. In Great Britain it is the province of + the House of Commons to prefer the impeachment, and of the House of + Lords to decide upon it. Several of the State constitutions have + followed the example. As well the latter, as the former, seem to + have regarded the practice of impeachments as a bridle in the hands + of the legislative body upon the executive servants of the + government. Is not this the true light in which it ought to be + regarded? +Where else than in the Senate could have been found a tribunal + sufficiently dignified, or sufficiently independent? What other + body would be likely to feel CONFIDENCE ENOUGH IN ITS OWN SITUATION, + to preserve, unawed and uninfluenced, the necessary impartiality + between an INDIVIDUAL accused, and the REPRESENTATIVES OF THE + PEOPLE, HIS ACCUSERS? +Could the Supreme Court have been relied upon as answering this + description? It is much to be doubted, whether the members of that + tribunal would at all times be endowed with so eminent a portion of + fortitude, as would be called for in the execution of so difficult a + task; and it is still more to be doubted, whether they would + possess the degree of credit and authority, which might, on certain + occasions, be indispensable towards reconciling the people to a + decision that should happen to clash with an accusation brought by + their immediate representatives. A deficiency in the first, would + be fatal to the accused; in the last, dangerous to the public + tranquillity. The hazard in both these respects, could only be + avoided, if at all, by rendering that tribunal more numerous than + would consist with a reasonable attention to economy. The necessity + of a numerous court for the trial of impeachments, is equally + dictated by the nature of the proceeding. This can never be tied + down by such strict rules, either in the delineation of the offense + by the prosecutors, or in the construction of it by the judges, as + in common cases serve to limit the discretion of courts in favor of + personal security. There will be no jury to stand between the + judges who are to pronounce the sentence of the law, and the party + who is to receive or suffer it. The awful discretion which a court + of impeachments must necessarily have, to doom to honor or to infamy + the most confidential and the most distinguished characters of the + community, forbids the commitment of the trust to a small number of + persons. +These considerations seem alone sufficient to authorize a + conclusion, that the Supreme Court would have been an improper + substitute for the Senate, as a court of impeachments. There + remains a further consideration, which will not a little strengthen + this conclusion. It is this: The punishment which may be the + consequence of conviction upon impeachment, is not to terminate the + chastisement of the offender. After having been sentenced to a + perpetual ostracism from the esteem and confidence, and honors and + emoluments of his country, he will still be liable to prosecution + and punishment in the ordinary course of law. Would it be proper + that the persons who had disposed of his fame, and his most valuable + rights as a citizen in one trial, should, in another trial, for the + same offense, be also the disposers of his life and his fortune? + Would there not be the greatest reason to apprehend, that error, in + the first sentence, would be the parent of error in the second + sentence? That the strong bias of one decision would be apt to + overrule the influence of any new lights which might be brought to + vary the complexion of another decision? Those who know anything of + human nature, will not hesitate to answer these questions in the + affirmative; and will be at no loss to perceive, that by making the + same persons judges in both cases, those who might happen to be the + objects of prosecution would, in a great measure, be deprived of the + double security intended them by a double trial. The loss of life + and estate would often be virtually included in a sentence which, in + its terms, imported nothing more than dismission from a present, and + disqualification for a future, office. It may be said, that the + intervention of a jury, in the second instance, would obviate the + danger. But juries are frequently influenced by the opinions of + judges. They are sometimes induced to find special verdicts, which + refer the main question to the decision of the court. Who would be + willing to stake his life and his estate upon the verdict of a jury + acting under the auspices of judges who had predetermined his guilt? +Would it have been an improvement of the plan, to have united + the Supreme Court with the Senate, in the formation of the court of + impeachments? This union would certainly have been attended with + several advantages; but would they not have been overbalanced by + the signal disadvantage, already stated, arising from the agency of + the same judges in the double prosecution to which the offender + would be liable? To a certain extent, the benefits of that union + will be obtained from making the chief justice of the Supreme Court + the president of the court of impeachments, as is proposed to be + done in the plan of the convention; while the inconveniences of an + entire incorporation of the former into the latter will be + substantially avoided. This was perhaps the prudent mean. I + forbear to remark upon the additional pretext for clamor against the + judiciary, which so considerable an augmentation of its authority + would have afforded. +Would it have been desirable to have composed the court for the + trial of impeachments, of persons wholly distinct from the other + departments of the government? There are weighty arguments, as well + against, as in favor of, such a plan. To some minds it will not + appear a trivial objection, that it could tend to increase the + complexity of the political machine, and to add a new spring to the + government, the utility of which would at best be questionable. But + an objection which will not be thought by any unworthy of attention, + is this: a court formed upon such a plan, would either be attended + with a heavy expense, or might in practice be subject to a variety + of casualties and inconveniences. It must either consist of + permanent officers, stationary at the seat of government, and of + course entitled to fixed and regular stipends, or of certain + officers of the State governments to be called upon whenever an + impeachment was actually depending. It will not be easy to imagine + any third mode materially different, which could rationally be + proposed. As the court, for reasons already given, ought to be + numerous, the first scheme will be reprobated by every man who can + compare the extent of the public wants with the means of supplying + them. The second will be espoused with caution by those who will + seriously consider the difficulty of collecting men dispersed over + the whole Union; the injury to the innocent, from the + procrastinated determination of the charges which might be brought + against them; the advantage to the guilty, from the opportunities + which delay would afford to intrigue and corruption; and in some + cases the detriment to the State, from the prolonged inaction of men + whose firm and faithful execution of their duty might have exposed + them to the persecution of an intemperate or designing majority in + the House of Representatives. Though this latter supposition may + seem harsh, and might not be likely often to be verified, yet it + ought not to be forgotten that the demon of faction will, at certain + seasons, extend his sceptre over all numerous bodies of men. +But though one or the other of the substitutes which have been + examined, or some other that might be devised, should be thought + preferable to the plan in this respect, reported by the convention, + it will not follow that the Constitution ought for this reason to be + rejected. If mankind were to resolve to agree in no institution of + government, until every part of it had been adjusted to the most + exact standard of perfection, society would soon become a general + scene of anarchy, and the world a desert. Where is the standard of + perfection to be found? Who will undertake to unite the discordant + opinions of a whole community, in the same judgment of it; and to + prevail upon one conceited projector to renounce his INFALLIBLE + criterion for the FALLIBLE criterion of his more CONCEITED NEIGHBOR? + To answer the purpose of the adversaries of the Constitution, they + ought to prove, not merely that particular provisions in it are not + the best which might have been imagined, but that the plan upon the + whole is bad and pernicious. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 66 + +Objections to the Power of the Senate To Set as a Court for + Impeachments Further Considered +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, March 11, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +A REVIEW of the principal objections that have appeared against + the proposed court for the trial of impeachments, will not + improbably eradicate the remains of any unfavorable impressions + which may still exist in regard to this matter. +The FIRST of these objections is, that the provision in question + confounds legislative and judiciary authorities in the same body, in + violation of that important and wellestablished maxim which requires + a separation between the different departments of power. The true + meaning of this maxim has been discussed and ascertained in another + place, and has been shown to be entirely compatible with a partial + intermixture of those departments for special purposes, preserving + them, in the main, distinct and unconnected. This partial + intermixture is even, in some cases, not only proper but necessary + to the mutual defense of the several members of the government + against each other. An absolute or qualified negative in the + executive upon the acts of the legislative body, is admitted, by the + ablest adepts in political science, to be an indispensable barrier + against the encroachments of the latter upon the former. And it + may, perhaps, with no less reason be contended, that the powers + relating to impeachments are, as before intimated, an essential + check in the hands of that body upon the encroachments of the + executive. The division of them between the two branches of the + legislature, assigning to one the right of accusing, to the other + the right of judging, avoids the inconvenience of making the same + persons both accusers and judges; and guards against the danger of + persecution, from the prevalency of a factious spirit in either of + those branches. As the concurrence of two thirds of the Senate will + be requisite to a condemnation, the security to innocence, from this + additional circumstance, will be as complete as itself can desire. +It is curious to observe, with what vehemence this part of the + plan is assailed, on the principle here taken notice of, by men who + profess to admire, without exception, the constitution of this + State; while that constitution makes the Senate, together with the + chancellor and judges of the Supreme Court, not only a court of + impeachments, but the highest judicatory in the State, in all + causes, civil and criminal. The proportion, in point of numbers, of + the chancellor and judges to the senators, is so inconsiderable, + that the judiciary authority of New York, in the last resort, may, + with truth, be said to reside in its Senate. If the plan of the + convention be, in this respect, chargeable with a departure from the + celebrated maxim which has been so often mentioned, and seems to be + so little understood, how much more culpable must be the + constitution of New York?1 +A SECOND objection to the Senate, as a court of impeachments, + is, that it contributes to an undue accumulation of power in that + body, tending to give to the government a countenance too + aristocratic. The Senate, it is observed, is to have concurrent + authority with the Executive in the formation of treaties and in the + appointment to offices: if, say the objectors, to these + prerogatives is added that of deciding in all cases of impeachment, + it will give a decided predominancy to senatorial influence. To an + objection so little precise in itself, it is not easy to find a very + precise answer. Where is the measure or criterion to which we can + appeal, for determining what will give the Senate too much, too + little, or barely the proper degree of influence? Will it not be + more safe, as well as more simple, to dismiss such vague and + uncertain calculations, to examine each power by itself, and to + decide, on general principles, where it may be deposited with most + advantage and least inconvenience? +If we take this course, it will lead to a more intelligible, if + not to a more certain result. The disposition of the power of + making treaties, which has obtained in the plan of the convention, + will, then, if I mistake not, appear to be fully justified by the + considerations stated in a former number, and by others which will + occur under the next head of our inquiries. The expediency of the + junction of the Senate with the Executive, in the power of + appointing to offices, will, I trust, be placed in a light not less + satisfactory, in the disquisitions under the same head. And I + flatter myself the observations in my last paper must have gone no + inconsiderable way towards proving that it was not easy, if + practicable, to find a more fit receptacle for the power of + determining impeachments, than that which has been chosen. If this + be truly the case, the hypothetical dread of the too great weight of + the Senate ought to be discarded from our reasonings. +But this hypothesis, such as it is, has already been refuted in + the remarks applied to the duration in office prescribed for the + senators. It was by them shown, as well on the credit of historical + examples, as from the reason of the thing, that the most POPULAR + branch of every government, partaking of the republican genius, by + being generally the favorite of the people, will be as generally a + full match, if not an overmatch, for every other member of the + Government. +But independent of this most active and operative principle, to + secure the equilibrium of the national House of Representatives, the + plan of the convention has provided in its favor several important + counterpoises to the additional authorities to be conferred upon the + Senate. The exclusive privilege of originating money bills will + belong to the House of Representatives. The same house will possess + the sole right of instituting impeachments: is not this a complete + counterbalance to that of determining them? The same house will be + the umpire in all elections of the President, which do not unite the + suffrages of a majority of the whole number of electors; a case + which it cannot be doubted will sometimes, if not frequently, happen. + The constant possibility of the thing must be a fruitful source of + influence to that body. The more it is contemplated, the more + important will appear this ultimate though contingent power, of + deciding the competitions of the most illustrious citizens of the + Union, for the first office in it. It would not perhaps be rash to + predict, that as a mean of influence it will be found to outweigh + all the peculiar attributes of the Senate. +A THIRD objection to the Senate as a court of impeachments, is + drawn from the agency they are to have in the appointments to office. + It is imagined that they would be too indulgent judges of the + conduct of men, in whose official creation they had participated. + The principle of this objection would condemn a practice, which is + to be seen in all the State governments, if not in all the + governments with which we are acquainted: I mean that of rendering + those who hold offices during pleasure, dependent on the pleasure of + those who appoint them. With equal plausibility might it be alleged + in this case, that the favoritism of the latter would always be an + asylum for the misbehavior of the former. But that practice, in + contradiction to this principle, proceeds upon the presumption, that + the responsibility of those who appoint, for the fitness and + competency of the persons on whom they bestow their choice, and the + interest they will have in the respectable and prosperous + administration of affairs, will inspire a sufficient disposition to + dismiss from a share in it all such who, by their conduct, shall + have proved themselves unworthy of the confidence reposed in them. + Though facts may not always correspond with this presumption, yet + if it be, in the main, just, it must destroy the supposition that + the Senate, who will merely sanction the choice of the Executive, + should feel a bias, towards the objects of that choice, strong + enough to blind them to the evidences of guilt so extraordinary, as + to have induced the representatives of the nation to become its + accusers. +If any further arguments were necessary to evince the + improbability of such a bias, it might be found in the nature of the + agency of the Senate in the business of appointments. +It will be the office of the President to NOMINATE, and, with + the advice and consent of the Senate, to APPOINT. There will, of + course, be no exertion of CHOICE on the part of the Senate. They + may defeat one choice of the Executive, and oblige him to make + another; but they cannot themselves CHOOSE, they can only ratify or + reject the choice of the President. They might even entertain a + preference to some other person, at the very moment they were + assenting to the one proposed, because there might be no positive + ground of opposition to him; and they could not be sure, if they + withheld their assent, that the subsequent nomination would fall + upon their own favorite, or upon any other person in their + estimation more meritorious than the one rejected. Thus it could + hardly happen, that the majority of the Senate would feel any other + complacency towards the object of an appointment than such as the + appearances of merit might inspire, and the proofs of the want of it + destroy. +A FOURTH objection to the Senate in the capacity of a court of + impeachments, is derived from its union with the Executive in the + power of making treaties. This, it has been said, would constitute + the senators their own judges, in every case of a corrupt or + perfidious execution of that trust. After having combined with the + Executive in betraying the interests of the nation in a ruinous + treaty, what prospect, it is asked, would there be of their being + made to suffer the punishment they would deserve, when they were + themselves to decide upon the accusation brought against them for + the treachery of which they have been guilty? +This objection has been circulated with more earnestness and + with greater show of reason than any other which has appeared + against this part of the plan; and yet I am deceived if it does not + rest upon an erroneous foundation. +The security essentially intended by the Constitution against + corruption and treachery in the formation of treaties, is to be + sought for in the numbers and characters of those who are to make + them. The JOINT AGENCY of the Chief Magistrate of the Union, and of + two thirds of the members of a body selected by the collective + wisdom of the legislatures of the several States, is designed to be + the pledge for the fidelity of the national councils in this + particular. The convention might with propriety have meditated the + punishment of the Executive, for a deviation from the instructions + of the Senate, or a want of integrity in the conduct of the + negotiations committed to him; they might also have had in view the + punishment of a few leading individuals in the Senate, who should + have prostituted their influence in that body as the mercenary + instruments of foreign corruption: but they could not, with more or + with equal propriety, have contemplated the impeachment and + punishment of two thirds of the Senate, consenting to an improper + treaty, than of a majority of that or of the other branch of the + national legislature, consenting to a pernicious or unconstitutional + law, a principle which, I believe, has never been admitted into any + government. How, in fact, could a majority in the House of + Representatives impeach themselves? Not better, it is evident, than + two thirds of the Senate might try themselves. And yet what reason + is there, that a majority of the House of Representatives, + sacrificing the interests of the society by an unjust and tyrannical + act of legislation, should escape with impunity, more than two + thirds of the Senate, sacrificing the same interests in an injurious + treaty with a foreign power? The truth is, that in all such cases + it is essential to the freedom and to the necessary independence of + the deliberations of the body, that the members of it should be + exempt from punishment for acts done in a collective capacity; and + the security to the society must depend on the care which is taken + to confide the trust to proper hands, to make it their interest to + execute it with fidelity, and to make it as difficult as possible + for them to combine in any interest opposite to that of the public + good. +So far as might concern the misbehavior of the Executive in + perverting the instructions or contravening the views of the Senate, + we need not be apprehensive of the want of a disposition in that + body to punish the abuse of their confidence or to vindicate their + own authority. We may thus far count upon their pride, if not upon + their virtue. And so far even as might concern the corruption of + leading members, by whose arts and influence the majority may have + been inveigled into measures odious to the community, if the proofs + of that corruption should be satisfactory, the usual propensity of + human nature will warrant us in concluding that there would be + commonly no defect of inclination in the body to divert the public + resentment from themselves by a ready sacrifice of the authors of + their mismanagement and disgrace. +PUBLIUS. +In that of New Jersey, also, the final judiciary authority is in + a branch of the legislature. In New Hampshire, Massachusetts, + Pennsylvanis, and South Carolina, one branch of the legislature is + the court for the trial of impeachments. + + +FEDERALIST No. 67 + +The Executive Department +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, March 11, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE constitution of the executive department of the proposed + government, claims next our attention. +There is hardly any part of the system which could have been + attended with greater difficulty in the arrangement of it than this; + and there is, perhaps, none which has been inveighed against with + less candor or criticised with less judgment. +Here the writers against the Constitution seem to have taken + pains to signalize their talent of misrepresentation. Calculating + upon the aversion of the people to monarchy, they have endeavored to + enlist all their jealousies and apprehensions in opposition to the + intended President of the United States; not merely as the embryo, + but as the full-grown progeny, of that detested parent. To + establish the pretended affinity, they have not scrupled to draw + resources even from the regions of fiction. The authorities of a + magistrate, in few instances greater, in some instances less, than + those of a governor of New York, have been magnified into more than + royal prerogatives. He has been decorated with attributes superior + in dignity and splendor to those of a king of Great Britain. He has + been shown to us with the diadem sparkling on his brow and the + imperial purple flowing in his train. He has been seated on a + throne surrounded with minions and mistresses, giving audience to + the envoys of foreign potentates, in all the supercilious pomp of + majesty. The images of Asiatic despotism and voluptuousness have + scarcely been wanting to crown the exaggerated scene. We have been + taught to tremble at the terrific visages of murdering janizaries, + and to blush at the unveiled mysteries of a future seraglio. +Attempts so extravagant as these to disfigure or, it might + rather be said, to metamorphose the object, render it necessary to + take an accurate view of its real nature and form: in order as well + to ascertain its true aspect and genuine appearance, as to unmask + the disingenuity and expose the fallacy of the counterfeit + resemblances which have been so insidiously, as well as + industriously, propagated. +In the execution of this task, there is no man who would not + find it an arduous effort either to behold with moderation, or to + treat with seriousness, the devices, not less weak than wicked, + which have been contrived to pervert the public opinion in relation + to the subject. They so far exceed the usual though unjustifiable + licenses of party artifice, that even in a disposition the most + candid and tolerant, they must force the sentiments which favor an + indulgent construction of the conduct of political adversaries to + give place to a voluntary and unreserved indignation. It is + impossible not to bestow the imputation of deliberate imposture and + deception upon the gross pretense of a similitude between a king of + Great Britain and a magistrate of the character marked out for that + of the President of the United States. It is still more impossible + to withhold that imputation from the rash and barefaced expedients + which have been employed to give success to the attempted imposition. +In one instance, which I cite as a sample of the general spirit, + the temerity has proceeded so far as to ascribe to the President of + the United States a power which by the instrument reported is + EXPRESSLY allotted to the Executives of the individual States. I + mean the power of filling casual vacancies in the Senate. +This bold experiment upon the discernment of his countrymen has + been hazarded by a writer who (whatever may be his real merit) has + had no inconsiderable share in the applauses of his party1; and + who, upon this false and unfounded suggestion, has built a series of + observations equally false and unfounded. Let him now be confronted + with the evidence of the fact, and let him, if he be able, justify + or extenuate the shameful outrage he has offered to the dictates of + truth and to the rules of fair dealing. +The second clause of the second section of the second article + empowers the President of the United States ``to nominate, and by + and with the advice and consent of the Senate, to appoint + ambassadors, other public ministers and consuls, judges of the + Supreme Court, and all other OFFICERS of United States whose + appointments are NOT in the Constitution OTHERWISE PROVIDED FOR, and + WHICH SHALL BE ESTABLISHED BY LAW.'' Immediately after this clause + follows another in these words: ``The President shall have power to + fill up ?? VACANCIES that may happen DURING THE RECESS OF THE + SENATE, by granting commissions which shall EXPIRE AT THE END OF + THEIR NEXT SESSION.'' It is from this last provision that the + pretended power of the President to fill vacancies in the Senate has + been deduced. A slight attention to the connection of the clauses, + and to the obvious meaning of the terms, will satisfy us that the + deduction is not even colorable. +The first of these two clauses, it is clear, only provides a + mode for appointing such officers, ``whose appointments are NOT + OTHERWISE PROVIDED FOR in the Constitution, and which SHALL BE + ESTABLISHED BY LAW''; of course it cannot extend to the + appointments of senators, whose appointments are OTHERWISE PROVIDED + FOR in the Constitution2, and who are ESTABLISHED BY THE + CONSTITUTION, and will not require a future establishment by law. + This position will hardly be contested. +The last of these two clauses, it is equally clear, cannot be + understood to comprehend the power of filling vacancies in the + Senate, for the following reasons: First. The relation in + which that clause stands to the other, which declares the general + mode of appointing officers of the United States, denotes it to be + nothing more than a supplement to the other, for the purpose of + establishing an auxiliary method of appointment, in cases to which + the general method was inadequate. The ordinary power of + appointment is confined to the President and Senate JOINTLY, and can + therefore only be exercised during the session of the Senate; but + as it would have been improper to oblige this body to be continually + in session for the appointment of officers and as vacancies might + happen IN THEIR RECESS, which it might be necessary for the public + service to fill without delay, the succeeding clause is evidently + intended to authorize the President, SINGLY, to make temporary + appointments ``during the recess of the Senate, by granting + commissions which shall expire at the end of their next session.'' + Secondly. If this clause is to be considered as supplementary + to the one which precedes, the VACANCIES of which it speaks must be + construed to relate to the ``officers'' described in the preceding + one; and this, we have seen, excludes from its description the + members of the Senate. Thirdly. The time within which the + power is to operate, ``during the recess of the Senate,'' and the + duration of the appointments, ``to the end of the next session'' of + that body, conspire to elucidate the sense of the provision, which, + if it had been intended to comprehend senators, would naturally have + referred the temporary power of filling vacancies to the recess of + the State legislatures, who are to make the permanent appointments, + and not to the recess of the national Senate, who are to have no + concern in those appointments; and would have extended the duration + in office of the temporary senators to the next session of the + legislature of the State, in whose representation the vacancies had + happened, instead of making it to expire at the end of the ensuing + session of the national Senate. The circumstances of the body + authorized to make the permanent appointments would, of course, have + governed the modification of a power which related to the temporary + appointments; and as the national Senate is the body, whose + situation is alone contemplated in the clause upon which the + suggestion under examination has been founded, the vacancies to + which it alludes can only be deemed to respect those officers in + whose appointment that body has a concurrent agency with the + President. But lastly, the first and second clauses of the + third section of the first article, not only obviate all possibility + of doubt, but destroy the pretext of misconception. The former + provides, that ``the Senate of the United States shall be composed + of two Senators from each State, chosen BY THE LEGISLATURE THEREOF + for six years''; and the latter directs, that, ``if vacancies in + that body should happen by resignation or otherwise, DURING THE + RECESS OF THE LEGISLATURE OF ANY STATE, the Executive THEREOF may + make temporary appointments until the NEXT MEETING OF THE + LEGISLATURE, which shall then fill such vacancies.'' Here is an + express power given, in clear and unambiguous terms, to the State + Executives, to fill casual vacancies in the Senate, by temporary + appointments; which not only invalidates the supposition, that the + clause before considered could have been intended to confer that + power upon the President of the United States, but proves that this + supposition, destitute as it is even of the merit of plausibility, + must have originated in an intention to deceive the people, too + palpable to be obscured by sophistry, too atrocious to be palliated + by hypocrisy. +I have taken the pains to select this instance of + misrepresentation, and to place it in a clear and strong light, as + an unequivocal proof of the unwarrantable arts which are practiced + to prevent a fair and impartial judgment of the real merits of the + Constitution submitted to the consideration of the people. Nor have + I scrupled, in so flagrant a case, to allow myself a severity of + animadversion little congenial with the general spirit of these + papers. I hesitate not to submit it to the decision of any candid + and honest adversary of the proposed government, whether language + can furnish epithets of too much asperity, for so shameless and so + prostitute an attempt to impose on the citizens of America. +PUBLIUS. +1 See CATO, No. V. +2 Article I, section 3, clause I. + + +FEDERALIST No. 68 + +The Mode of Electing the President +From the New York Packet. +Friday, March 14, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE mode of appointment of the Chief Magistrate of the United + States is almost the only part of the system, of any consequence, + which has escaped without severe censure, or which has received the + slightest mark of approbation from its opponents. The most + plausible of these, who has appeared in print, has even deigned to + admit that the election of the President is pretty well + guarded.1 I venture somewhat further, and hesitate not to + affirm, that if the manner of it be not perfect, it is at least + excellent. It unites in an eminent degree all the advantages, the + union of which was to be wished for. +It was desirable that the sense of the people should operate in + the choice of the person to whom so important a trust was to be + confided. This end will be answered by committing the right of + making it, not to any preestablished body, but to men chosen by the + people for the special purpose, and at the particular conjuncture. +It was equally desirable, that the immediate election should be + made by men most capable of analyzing the qualities adapted to the + station, and acting under circumstances favorable to deliberation, + and to a judicious combination of all the reasons and inducements + which were proper to govern their choice. A small number of + persons, selected by their fellow-citizens from the general mass, + will be most likely to possess the information and discernment + requisite to such complicated investigations. +It was also peculiarly desirable to afford as little opportunity + as possible to tumult and disorder. This evil was not least to be + dreaded in the election of a magistrate, who was to have so + important an agency in the administration of the government as the + President of the United States. But the precautions which have been + so happily concerted in the system under consideration, promise an + effectual security against this mischief. The choice of SEVERAL, to + form an intermediate body of electors, will be much less apt to + convulse the community with any extraordinary or violent movements, + than the choice of ONE who was himself to be the final object of the + public wishes. And as the electors, chosen in each State, are to + assemble and vote in the State in which they are chosen, this + detached and divided situation will expose them much less to heats + and ferments, which might be communicated from them to the people, + than if they were all to be convened at one time, in one place. +Nothing was more to be desired than that every practicable + obstacle should be opposed to cabal, intrigue, and corruption. + These most deadly adversaries of republican government might + naturally have been expected to make their approaches from more than + one quarter, but chiefly from the desire in foreign powers to gain + an improper ascendant in our councils. How could they better + gratify this, than by raising a creature of their own to the chief + magistracy of the Union? But the convention have guarded against + all danger of this sort, with the most provident and judicious + attention. They have not made the appointment of the President to + depend on any preexisting bodies of men, who might be tampered with + beforehand to prostitute their votes; but they have referred it in + the first instance to an immediate act of the people of America, to + be exerted in the choice of persons for the temporary and sole + purpose of making the appointment. And they have excluded from + eligibility to this trust, all those who from situation might be + suspected of too great devotion to the President in office. No + senator, representative, or other person holding a place of trust or + profit under the United States, can be of the numbers of the + electors. Thus without corrupting the body of the people, the + immediate agents in the election will at least enter upon the task + free from any sinister bias. Their transient existence, and their + detached situation, already taken notice of, afford a satisfactory + prospect of their continuing so, to the conclusion of it. The + business of corruption, when it is to embrace so considerable a + number of men, requires time as well as means. Nor would it be + found easy suddenly to embark them, dispersed as they would be over + thirteen States, in any combinations founded upon motives, which + though they could not properly be denominated corrupt, might yet be + of a nature to mislead them from their duty. +Another and no less important desideratum was, that the + Executive should be independent for his continuance in office on all + but the people themselves. He might otherwise be tempted to + sacrifice his duty to his complaisance for those whose favor was + necessary to the duration of his official consequence. This + advantage will also be secured, by making his re-election to depend + on a special body of representatives, deputed by the society for the + single purpose of making the important choice. +All these advantages will happily combine in the plan devised by + the convention; which is, that the people of each State shall + choose a number of persons as electors, equal to the number of + senators and representatives of such State in the national + government, who shall assemble within the State, and vote for some + fit person as President. Their votes, thus given, are to be + transmitted to the seat of the national government, and the person + who may happen to have a majority of the whole number of votes will + be the President. But as a majority of the votes might not always + happen to centre in one man, and as it might be unsafe to permit + less than a majority to be conclusive, it is provided that, in such + a contingency, the House of Representatives shall select out of the + candidates who shall have the five highest number of votes, the man + who in their opinion may be best qualified for the office. +The process of election affords a moral certainty, that the + office of President will never fall to the lot of any man who is not + in an eminent degree endowed with the requisite qualifications. + Talents for low intrigue, and the little arts of popularity, may + alone suffice to elevate a man to the first honors in a single + State; but it will require other talents, and a different kind of + merit, to establish him in the esteem and confidence of the whole + Union, or of so considerable a portion of it as would be necessary + to make him a successful candidate for the distinguished office of + President of the United States. It will not be too strong to say, + that there will be a constant probability of seeing the station + filled by characters pre-eminent for ability and virtue. And this + will be thought no inconsiderable recommendation of the + Constitution, by those who are able to estimate the share which the + executive in every government must necessarily have in its good or + ill administration. Though we cannot acquiesce in the political + heresy of the poet who says: ``For forms of government let fools + contest That which is best administered is best,'' + yet we may safely pronounce, that the true test of a good + government is its aptitude and tendency to produce a good + administration. +The Vice-President is to be chosen in the same manner with the + President; with this difference, that the Senate is to do, in + respect to the former, what is to be done by the House of + Representatives, in respect to the latter. +The appointment of an extraordinary person, as Vice-President, + has been objected to as superfluous, if not mischievous. It has + been alleged, that it would have been preferable to have authorized + the Senate to elect out of their own body an officer answering that + description. But two considerations seem to justify the ideas of + the convention in this respect. One is, that to secure at all times + the possibility of a definite resolution of the body, it is + necessary that the President should have only a casting vote. And + to take the senator of any State from his seat as senator, to place + him in that of President of the Senate, would be to exchange, in + regard to the State from which he came, a constant for a contingent + vote. The other consideration is, that as the Vice-President may + occasionally become a substitute for the President, in the supreme + executive magistracy, all the reasons which recommend the mode of + election prescribed for the one, apply with great if not with equal + force to the manner of appointing the other. It is remarkable that + in this, as in most other instances, the objection which is made + would lie against the constitution of this State. We have a + Lieutenant-Governor, chosen by the people at large, who presides in + the Senate, and is the constitutional substitute for the Governor, + in casualties similar to those which would authorize the + Vice-President to exercise the authorities and discharge the duties + of the President. +PUBLIUS. +1 Vide FEDERAL FARMER. + + +FEDERALIST No. 69 + +The Real Character of the Executive +From the New York Packet. +Friday, March 14, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +I PROCEED now to trace the real characters of the proposed + Executive, as they are marked out in the plan of the convention. + This will serve to place in a strong light the unfairness of the + representations which have been made in regard to it. +The first thing which strikes our attention is, that the + executive authority, with few exceptions, is to be vested in a + single magistrate. This will scarcely, however, be considered as a + point upon which any comparison can be grounded; for if, in this + particular, there be a resemblance to the king of Great Britain, + there is not less a resemblance to the Grand Seignior, to the khan + of Tartary, to the Man of the Seven Mountains, or to the governor of + New York. +That magistrate is to be elected for FOUR years; and is to be + re-eligible as often as the people of the United States shall think + him worthy of their confidence. In these circumstances there is a + total dissimilitude between HIM and a king of Great Britain, who is + an HEREDITARY monarch, possessing the crown as a patrimony + descendible to his heirs forever; but there is a close analogy + between HIM and a governor of New York, who is elected for THREE + years, and is re-eligible without limitation or intermission. If we + consider how much less time would be requisite for establishing a + dangerous influence in a single State, than for establishing a like + influence throughout the United States, we must conclude that a + duration of FOUR years for the Chief Magistrate of the Union is a + degree of permanency far less to be dreaded in that office, than a + duration of THREE years for a corresponding office in a single State. +The President of the United States would be liable to be + impeached, tried, and, upon conviction of treason, bribery, or other + high crimes or misdemeanors, removed from office; and would + afterwards be liable to prosecution and punishment in the ordinary + course of law. The person of the king of Great Britain is sacred + and inviolable; there is no constitutional tribunal to which he is + amenable; no punishment to which he can be subjected without + involving the crisis of a national revolution. In this delicate and + important circumstance of personal responsibility, the President of + Confederated America would stand upon no better ground than a + governor of New York, and upon worse ground than the governors of + Maryland and Delaware. +The President of the United States is to have power to return a + bill, which shall have passed the two branches of the legislature, + for reconsideration; and the bill so returned is to become a law, + if, upon that reconsideration, it be approved by two thirds of both + houses. The king of Great Britain, on his part, has an absolute + negative upon the acts of the two houses of Parliament. The disuse + of that power for a considerable time past does not affect the + reality of its existence; and is to be ascribed wholly to the + crown's having found the means of substituting influence to + authority, or the art of gaining a majority in one or the other of + the two houses, to the necessity of exerting a prerogative which + could seldom be exerted without hazarding some degree of national + agitation. The qualified negative of the President differs widely + from this absolute negative of the British sovereign; and tallies + exactly with the revisionary authority of the council of revision of + this State, of which the governor is a constituent part. In this + respect the power of the President would exceed that of the governor + of New York, because the former would possess, singly, what the + latter shares with the chancellor and judges; but it would be + precisely the same with that of the governor of Massachusetts, whose + constitution, as to this article, seems to have been the original + from which the convention have copied. +The President is to be the ``commander-in-chief of the army and + navy of the United States, and of the militia of the several States, + when called into the actual service of the United States. He is to + have power to grant reprieves and pardons for offenses against the + United States, EXCEPT IN CASES OF IMPEACHMENT; to recommend to the + consideration of Congress such measures as he shall judge necessary + and expedient; to convene, on extraordinary occasions, both houses + of the legislature, or either of them, and, in case of disagreement + between them WITH RESPECT TO THE TIME OF ADJOURNMENT, to adjourn + them to such time as he shall think proper; to take care that the + laws be faithfully executed; and to commission all officers of the + United States.'' In most of these particulars, the power of the + President will resemble equally that of the king of Great Britain + and of the governor of New York. The most material points of + difference are these: First. The President will have only the + occasional command of such part of the militia of the nation as by + legislative provision may be called into the actual service of the + Union. The king of Great Britain and the governor of New York have + at all times the entire command of all the militia within their + several jurisdictions. In this article, therefore, the power of the + President would be inferior to that of either the monarch or the + governor. Secondly. The President is to be commander-in-chief + of the army and navy of the United States. In this respect his + authority would be nominally the same with that of the king of Great + Britain, but in substance much inferior to it. It would amount to + nothing more than the supreme command and direction of the military + and naval forces, as first General and admiral of the Confederacy; + while that of the British king extends to the DECLARING of war and + to the RAISING and REGULATING of fleets and armies, all which, by + the Constitution under consideration, would appertain to the + legislature.1 The governor of New York, on the other hand, is + by the constitution of the State vested only with the command of its + militia and navy. But the constitutions of several of the States + expressly declare their governors to be commanders-in-chief, as well + of the army as navy; and it may well be a question, whether those + of New Hampshire and Massachusetts, in particular, do not, in this + instance, confer larger powers upon their respective governors, than + could be claimed by a President of the United States. Thirdly. + The power of the President, in respect to pardons, would extend to + all cases, EXCEPT THOSE OF IMPEACHMENT. The governor of New York + may pardon in all cases, even in those of impeachment, except for + treason and murder. Is not the power of the governor, in this + article, on a calculation of political consequences, greater than + that of the President? All conspiracies and plots against the + government, which have not been matured into actual treason, may be + screened from punishment of every kind, by the interposition of the + prerogative of pardoning. If a governor of New York, therefore, + should be at the head of any such conspiracy, until the design had + been ripened into actual hostility he could insure his accomplices + and adherents an entire impunity. A President of the Union, on the + other hand, though he may even pardon treason, when prosecuted in + the ordinary course of law, could shelter no offender, in any + degree, from the effects of impeachment and conviction. Would not + the prospect of a total indemnity for all the preliminary steps be a + greater temptation to undertake and persevere in an enterprise + against the public liberty, than the mere prospect of an exemption + from death and confiscation, if the final execution of the design, + upon an actual appeal to arms, should miscarry? Would this last + expectation have any influence at all, when the probability was + computed, that the person who was to afford that exemption might + himself be involved in the consequences of the measure, and might be + incapacitated by his agency in it from affording the desired + impunity? The better to judge of this matter, it will be necessary + to recollect, that, by the proposed Constitution, the offense of + treason is limited ``to levying war upon the United States, and + adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort''; and that + by the laws of New York it is confined within similar bounds. + Fourthly. The President can only adjourn the national legislature + in the single case of disagreement about the time of adjournment. + The British monarch may prorogue or even dissolve the Parliament. + The governor of New York may also prorogue the legislature of this + State for a limited time; a power which, in certain situations, may + be employed to very important purposes. +The President is to have power, with the advice and consent of + the Senate, to make treaties, provided two thirds of the senators + present concur. The king of Great Britain is the sole and absolute + representative of the nation in all foreign transactions. He can of + his own accord make treaties of peace, commerce, alliance, and of + every other description. It has been insinuated, that his authority + in this respect is not conclusive, and that his conventions with + foreign powers are subject to the revision, and stand in need of the + ratification, of Parliament. But I believe this doctrine was never + heard of, until it was broached upon the present occasion. Every + jurist2 of that kingdom, and every other man acquainted with its + Constitution, knows, as an established fact, that the prerogative of + making treaties exists in the crown in its utmost plentitude; and + that the compacts entered into by the royal authority have the most + complete legal validity and perfection, independent of any other + sanction. The Parliament, it is true, is sometimes seen employing + itself in altering the existing laws to conform them to the + stipulations in a new treaty; and this may have possibly given + birth to the imagination, that its co-operation was necessary to the + obligatory efficacy of the treaty. But this parliamentary + interposition proceeds from a different cause: from the necessity + of adjusting a most artificial and intricate system of revenue and + commercial laws, to the changes made in them by the operation of the + treaty; and of adapting new provisions and precautions to the new + state of things, to keep the machine from running into disorder. In + this respect, therefore, there is no comparison between the intended + power of the President and the actual power of the British sovereign. + The one can perform alone what the other can do only with the + concurrence of a branch of the legislature. It must be admitted, + that, in this instance, the power of the federal Executive would + exceed that of any State Executive. But this arises naturally from + the sovereign power which relates to treaties. If the Confederacy + were to be dissolved, it would become a question, whether the + Executives of the several States were not solely invested with that + delicate and important prerogative. +The President is also to be authorized to receive ambassadors + and other public ministers. This, though it has been a rich theme + of declamation, is more a matter of dignity than of authority. It + is a circumstance which will be without consequence in the + administration of the government; and it was far more convenient + that it should be arranged in this manner, than that there should be + a necessity of convening the legislature, or one of its branches, + upon every arrival of a foreign minister, though it were merely to + take the place of a departed predecessor. +The President is to nominate, and, WITH THE ADVICE AND CONSENT + OF THE SENATE, to appoint ambassadors and other public ministers, + judges of the Supreme Court, and in general all officers of the + United States established by law, and whose appointments are not + otherwise provided for by the Constitution. The king of Great + Britain is emphatically and truly styled the fountain of honor. He + not only appoints to all offices, but can create offices. He can + confer titles of nobility at pleasure; and has the disposal of an + immense number of church preferments. There is evidently a great + inferiority in the power of the President, in this particular, to + that of the British king; nor is it equal to that of the governor + of New York, if we are to interpret the meaning of the constitution + of the State by the practice which has obtained under it. The power + of appointment is with us lodged in a council, composed of the + governor and four members of the Senate, chosen by the Assembly. + The governor CLAIMS, and has frequently EXERCISED, the right of + nomination, and is ENTITLED to a casting vote in the appointment. + If he really has the right of nominating, his authority is in this + respect equal to that of the President, and exceeds it in the + article of the casting vote. In the national government, if the + Senate should be divided, no appointment could be made; in the + government of New York, if the council should be divided, the + governor can turn the scale, and confirm his own nomination.3 + If we compare the publicity which must necessarily attend the mode + of appointment by the President and an entire branch of the national + legislature, with the privacy in the mode of appointment by the + governor of New York, closeted in a secret apartment with at most + four, and frequently with only two persons; and if we at the same + time consider how much more easy it must be to influence the small + number of which a council of appointment consists, than the + considerable number of which the national Senate would consist, we + cannot hesitate to pronounce that the power of the chief magistrate + of this State, in the disposition of offices, must, in practice, be + greatly superior to that of the Chief Magistrate of the Union. +Hence it appears that, except as to the concurrent authority of + the President in the article of treaties, it would be difficult to + determine whether that magistrate would, in the aggregate, possess + more or less power than the Governor of New York. And it appears + yet more unequivocally, that there is no pretense for the parallel + which has been attempted between him and the king of Great Britain. + But to render the contrast in this respect still more striking, it + may be of use to throw the principal circumstances of dissimilitude + into a closer group. +The President of the United States would be an officer elected + by the people for FOUR years; the king of Great Britain is a + perpetual and HEREDITARY prince. The one would be amenable to + personal punishment and disgrace; the person of the other is sacred + and inviolable. The one would have a QUALIFIED negative upon the + acts of the legislative body; the other has an ABSOLUTE negative. + The one would have a right to command the military and naval forces + of the nation; the other, in addition to this right, possesses that + of DECLARING war, and of RAISING and REGULATING fleets and armies by + his own authority. The one would have a concurrent power with a + branch of the legislature in the formation of treaties; the other + is the SOLE POSSESSOR of the power of making treaties. The one + would have a like concurrent authority in appointing to offices; + the other is the sole author of all appointments. The one can + confer no privileges whatever; the other can make denizens of + aliens, noblemen of commoners; can erect corporations with all the + rights incident to corporate bodies. The one can prescribe no rules + concerning the commerce or currency of the nation; the other is in + several respects the arbiter of commerce, and in this capacity can + establish markets and fairs, can regulate weights and measures, can + lay embargoes for a limited time, can coin money, can authorize or + prohibit the circulation of foreign coin. The one has no particle + of spiritual jurisdiction; the other is the supreme head and + governor of the national church! What answer shall we give to those + who would persuade us that things so unlike resemble each other? + The same that ought to be given to those who tell us that a + government, the whole power of which would be in the hands of the + elective and periodical servants of the people, is an aristocracy, a + monarchy, and a despotism. +PUBLIUS. +1 A writer in a Pennsylvania paper, under the signature of + TAMONY, has asserted that the king of Great Britain owes his + prerogative as commander-in-chief to an annual mutiny bill. The + truth is, on the contrary, that his prerogative, in this respect, is + immemorial, and was only disputed, ``contrary to all reason and + precedent,'' as Blackstone vol. i., page 262, expresses it, by the + Long Parliament of Charles I. but by the statute the 13th of Charles + II., chap. 6, it was declared to be in the king alone, for that the + sole supreme government and command of the militia within his + Majesty's realms and dominions, and of all forces by sea and land, + and of all forts and places of strength, EVER WAS AND IS the + undoubted right of his Majesty and his royal predecessors, kings and + queens of England, and that both or either house of Parliament + cannot nor ought to pretend to the same. +2 Vide Blackstone's ``Commentaries,'' vol i., p. 257. +3 Candor, however, demands an acknowledgment that I do not think + the claim of the governor to a right of nomination well founded. + Yet it is always justifiable to reason from the practice of a + government, till its propriety has been constitutionally questioned. + And independent of this claim, when we take into view the other + considerations, and pursue them through all their consequences, we + shall be inclined to draw much the same conclusion. + +*There are two slightly different versions of No. 70 included here. + +FEDERALIST No. 70 + +The Executive Department Further Considered +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, March 18, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THERE is an idea, which is not without its advocates, that a + vigorous Executive is inconsistent with the genius of republican + government. The enlightened well-wishers to this species of + government must at least hope that the supposition is destitute of + foundation; since they can never admit its truth, without at the + same time admitting the condemnation of their own principles. + Energy in the Executive is a leading character in the definition of + good government. It is essential to the protection of the community + against foreign attacks; it is not less essential to the steady + administration of the laws; to the protection of property against + those irregular and high-handed combinations which sometimes + interrupt the ordinary course of justice; to the security of + liberty against the enterprises and assaults of ambition, of + faction, and of anarchy. Every man the least conversant in Roman + story, knows how often that republic was obliged to take refuge in + the absolute power of a single man, under the formidable title of + Dictator, as well against the intrigues of ambitious individuals who + aspired to the tyranny, and the seditions of whole classes of the + community whose conduct threatened the existence of all government, + as against the invasions of external enemies who menaced the + conquest and destruction of Rome. +There can be no need, however, to multiply arguments or examples + on this head. A feeble Executive implies a feeble execution of the + government. A feeble execution is but another phrase for a bad + execution; and a government ill executed, whatever it may be in + theory, must be, in practice, a bad government. +Taking it for granted, therefore, that all men of sense will + agree in the necessity of an energetic Executive, it will only + remain to inquire, what are the ingredients which constitute this + energy? How far can they be combined with those other ingredients + which constitute safety in the republican sense? And how far does + this combination characterize the plan which has been reported by + the convention? +The ingredients which constitute energy in the Executive are, + first, unity; secondly, duration; thirdly, an adequate provision + for its support; fourthly, competent powers. +The ingredients which constitute safety in the repub lican sense + are, first, a due dependence on the people, secondly, a due + responsibility. +Those politicians and statesmen who have been the most + celebrated for the soundness of their principles and for the justice + of their views, have declared in favor of a single Executive and a + numerous legislature. They have with great propriety, considered + energy as the most necessary qualification of the former, and have + regarded this as most applicable to power in a single hand, while + they have, with equal propriety, considered the latter as best + adapted to deliberation and wisdom, and best calculated to + conciliate the confidence of the people and to secure their + privileges and interests. +That unity is conducive to energy will not be disputed. + Decision, activity, secrecy, and despatch will generally + characterize the proceedings of one man in a much more eminent + degree than the proceedings of any greater number; and in + proportion as the number is increased, these qualities will be + diminished. +This unity may be destroyed in two ways: either by vesting the + power in two or more magistrates of equal dignity and authority; or + by vesting it ostensibly in one man, subject, in whole or in part, + to the control and co-operation of others, in the capacity of + counsellors to him. Of the first, the two Consuls of Rome may serve + as an example; of the last, we shall find examples in the + constitutions of several of the States. New York and New Jersey, if + I recollect right, are the only States which have intrusted the + executive authority wholly to single men.1 Both these methods + of destroying the unity of the Executive have their partisans; but + the votaries of an executive council are the most numerous. They + are both liable, if not to equal, to similar objections, and may in + most lights be examined in conjunction. +The experience of other nations will afford little instruction + on this head. As far, however, as it teaches any thing, it teaches + us not to be enamoured of plurality in the Executive. We have seen + that the Achaeans, on an experiment of two Praetors, were induced to + abolish one. The Roman history records many instances of mischiefs + to the republic from the dissensions between the Consuls, and + between the military Tribunes, who were at times substituted for the + Consuls. But it gives us no specimens of any peculiar advantages + derived to the state from the circumstance of the plurality of those + magistrates. That the dissensions between them were not more + frequent or more fatal, is a matter of astonishment, until we advert + to the singular position in which the republic was almost + continually placed, and to the prudent policy pointed out by the + circumstances of the state, and pursued by the Consuls, of making a + division of the government between them. The patricians engaged in + a perpetual struggle with the plebeians for the preservation of + their ancient authorities and dignities; the Consuls, who were + generally chosen out of the former body, were commonly united by the + personal interest they had in the defense of the privileges of their + order. In addition to this motive of union, after the arms of the + republic had considerably expanded the bounds of its empire, it + became an established custom with the Consuls to divide the + administration between themselves by lot one of them remaining at + Rome to govern the city and its environs, the other taking the + command in the more distant provinces. This expedient must, no + doubt, have had great influence in preventing those collisions and + rivalships which might otherwise have embroiled the peace of the + republic. +But quitting the dim light of historical research, attaching + ourselves purely to the dictates of reason and good sense, we shall + discover much greater cause to reject than to approve the idea of + plurality in the Executive, under any modification whatever. +Wherever two or more persons are engaged in any common + enterprise or pursuit, there is always danger of difference of + opinion. If it be a public trust or office, in which they are + clothed with equal dignity and authority, there is peculiar danger + of personal emulation and even animosity. From either, and + especially from all these causes, the most bitter dissensions are + apt to spring. Whenever these happen, they lessen the + respectability, weaken the authority, and distract the plans and + operation of those whom they divide. If they should unfortunately + assail the supreme executive magistracy of a country, consisting of + a plurality of persons, they might impede or frustrate the most + important measures of the government, in the most critical + emergencies of the state. And what is still worse, they might split + the community into the most violent and irreconcilable factions, + adhering differently to the different individuals who composed the + magistracy. +Men often oppose a thing, merely because they have had no agency + in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom + they dislike. But if they have been consulted, and have happened to + disapprove, opposition then becomes, in their estimation, an + indispensable duty of self-love. They seem to think themselves + bound in honor, and by all the motives of personal infallibility, to + defeat the success of what has been resolved upon contrary to their + sentiments. Men of upright, benevolent tempers have too many + opportunities of remarking, with horror, to what desperate lengths + this disposition is sometimes carried, and how often the great + interests of society are sacrificed to the vanity, to the conceit, + and to the obstinacy of individuals, who have credit enough to make + their passions and their caprices interesting to mankind. Perhaps + the question now before the public may, in its consequences, afford + melancholy proofs of the effects of this despicable frailty, or + rather detestable vice, in the human character. +Upon the principles of a free government, inconveniences from + the source just mentioned must necessarily be submitted to in the + formation of the legislature; but it is unnecessary, and therefore + unwise, to introduce them into the constitution of the Executive. + It is here too that they may be most pernicious. In the + legislature, promptitude of decision is oftener an evil than a + benefit. The differences of opinion, and the jarrings of parties in + that department of the government, though they may sometimes + obstruct salutary plans, yet often promote deliberation and + circumspection, and serve to check excesses in the majority. When a + resolution too is once taken, the opposition must be at an end. + That resolution is a law, and resistance to it punishable. But no + favorable circumstances palliate or atone for the disadvantages of + dissension in the executive department. Here, they are pure and + unmixed. There is no point at which they cease to operate. They + serve to embarrass and weaken the execution of the plan or measure + to which they relate, from the first step to the final conclusion of + it. They constantly counteract those qualities in the Executive + which are the most necessary ingredients in its composition, vigor + and expedition, and this without anycounterbalancing good. In the + conduct of war, in which the energy of the Executive is the bulwark + of the national security, every thing would be to be apprehended + from its plurality. +It must be confessed that these observations apply with + principal weight to the first case supposed that is, to a plurality + of magistrates of equal dignity and authority a scheme, the + advocates for which are not likely to form a numerous sect; but + they apply, though not with equal, yet with considerable weight to + the project of a council, whose concurrence is made constitutionally + necessary to the operations of the ostensible Executive. An artful + cabal in that council would be able to distract and to enervate the + whole system of administration. If no such cabal should exist, the + mere diversity of views and opinions would alone be sufficient to + tincture the exercise of the executive authority with a spirit of + habitual feebleness and dilatoriness. +But one of the weightiest objections to a plurality in the + Executive, and which lies as much against the last as the first + plan, is, that it tends to conceal faults and destroy responsibility. + Responsibility is of two kinds to censure and to punishment. The + first is the more important of the two, especially in an elective + office. Man, in public trust, will much oftener act in such a + manner as to render him unworthy of being any longer trusted, than + in such a manner as to make him obnoxious to legal punishment. But + the multiplication of the Executive adds to the difficulty of + detection in either case. It often becomes impossible, amidst + mutual accusations, to determine on whom the blame or the punishment + of a pernicious measure, or series of pernicious measures, ought + really to fall. It is shifted from one to another with so much + dexterity, and under such plausible appearances, that the public + opinion is left in suspense about the real author. The + circumstances which may have led to any national miscarriage or + misfortune are sometimes so complicated that, where there are a + number of actors who may have had different degrees and kinds of + agency, though we may clearly see upon the whole that there has been + mismanagement, yet it may be impracticable to pronounce to whose + account the evil which may have been incurred is truly chargeable. +``I was overruled by my council. The council were so divided in + their opinions that it was impossible to obtain any better + resolution on the point.'' These and similar pretexts are + constantly at hand, whether true or false. And who is there that + will either take the trouble or incur the odium, of a strict + scrunity into the secret springs of the transaction? Should there + be found a citizen zealous enough to undertake the unpromising task, + if there happen to be collusion between the parties concerned, how + easy it is to clothe the circumstances with so much ambiguity, as to + render it uncertain what was the precise conduct of any of those + parties? +In the single instance in which the governor of this State is + coupled with a council that is, in the appointment to offices, we + have seen the mischiefs of it in the view now under consideration. + Scandalous appointments to important offices have been made. Some + cases, indeed, have been so flagrant that ALL PARTIES have agreed in + the impropriety of the thing. When inquiry has been made, the blame + has been laid by the governor on the members of the council, who, on + their part, have charged it upon his nomination; while the people + remain altogether at a loss to determine, by whose influence their + interests have been committed to hands so unqualified and so + manifestly improper. In tenderness to individuals, I forbear to + descend to particulars. +It is evident from these considerations, that the plurality of + the Executive tends to deprive the people of the two greatest + securities they can have for the faithful exercise of any delegated + power, first, the restraints of public opinion, which lose their + efficacy, as well on account of the division of the censure + attendant on bad measures among a number, as on account of the + uncertainty on whom it ought to fall; and, secondly, the + opportunity of discovering with facility and clearness the + misconduct of the persons they trust, in order either to their + removal from office or to their actual punishment in cases which + admit of it. +In England, the king is a perpetual magistrate; and it is a + maxim which has obtained for the sake of the pub lic peace, that he + is unaccountable for his administration, and his person sacred. + Nothing, therefore, can be wiser in that kingdom, than to annex to + the king a constitutional council, who may be responsible to the + nation for the advice they give. Without this, there would be no + responsibility whatever in the executive department an idea + inadmissible in a free government. But even there the king is not + bound by the resolutions of his council, though they are answerable + for the advice they give. He is the absolute master of his own + conduct in the exercise of his office, and may observe or disregard + the counsel given to him at his sole discretion. +But in a republic, where every magistrate ought to be personally + responsible for his behavior in office the reason which in the + British Constitution dictates the propriety of a council, not only + ceases to apply, but turns against the institution. In the monarchy + of Great Britain, it furnishes a substitute for the prohibited + responsibility of the chief magistrate, which serves in some degree + as a hostage to the national justice for his good behavior. In the + American republic, it would serve to destroy, or would greatly + diminish, the intended and necessary responsibility of the Chief + Magistrate himself. +The idea of a council to the Executive, which has so generally + obtained in the State constitutions, has been derived from that + maxim of republican jealousy which considers power as safer in the + hands of a number of men than of a single man. If the maxim should + be admitted to be applicable to the case, I should contend that the + advantage on that side would not counterbalance the numerous + disadvantages on the opposite side. But I do not think the rule at + all applicable to the executive power. I clearly concur in opinion, + in this particular, with a writer whom the celebrated Junius + pronounces to be ``deep, solid, and ingenious,'' that ``the + executive power is more easily confined when it is ONE'';2 that + it is far more safe there should be a single object for the jealousy + and watchfulness of the people; and, in a word, that all + multiplication of the Executive is rather dangerous than friendly to + liberty. +A little consideration will satisfy us, that the species of + security sought for in the multiplication of the Executive, is + nattainable. Numbers must be so great as to render combination + difficult, or they are rather a source of danger than of security. + The united credit and influence of several individuals must be more + formidable to liberty, than the credit and influence of either of + them separately. When power, therefore, is placed in the hands of + so small a number of men, as to admit of their interests and views + being easily combined in a common enterprise, by an artful leader, + it becomes more liable to abuse, and more dangerous when abused, + than if it be lodged in the hands of one man; who, from the very + circumstance of his being alone, will be more narrowly watched and + more readily suspected, and who cannot unite so great a mass of + influence as when he is associated with others. The Decemvirs of + Rome, whose name denotes their number,3 were more to be dreaded + in their usurpation than any ONE of them would have been. No person + would think of proposing an Executive much more numerous than that + body; from six to a dozen have been suggested for the number of the + council. The extreme of these numbers, is not too great for an easy + combination; and from such a combination America would have more to + fear, than from the ambition of any single individual. A council to + a magistrate, who is himself responsible for what he does, are + generally nothing better than a clog upon his good intentions, are + often the instruments and accomplices of his bad and are almost + always a cloak to his faults. +I forbear to dwell upon the subject of expense; though it be + evident that if the council should be numerous enough to answer the + principal end aimed at by the institution, the salaries of the + members, who must be drawn from their homes to reside at the seat of + government, would form an item in the catalogue of public + expenditures too serious to be incurred for an object of equivocal + utility. I will only add that, prior to the appearance of the + Constitution, I rarely met with an intelligent man from any of the + States, who did not admit, as the result of experience, that the + UNITY of the executive of this State was one of the best of the + distinguishing features of our constitution. +PUBLIUS. +1 New York has no council except for the single purpose of + appointing to offices; New Jersey has a council whom the governor + may consult. But I think, from the terms of the constitution, their + resolutions do not bind him. +2 De Lolme. +3 Ten. + +*There are two slightly different versions of No. 70 included here. + +FEDERALIST No. 70 + +The Executive Department Further Considered +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, March 18, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THERE is an idea, which is not without its advocates, that a + vigorous Executive is inconsistent with the genius of republican + government. The enlightened well-wishers to this species of + government must at least hope that the supposition is destitute of + foundation; since they can never admit its truth, without at the + same time admitting the condemnation of their own principles. + Energy in the Executive is a leading character in the definition of + good government. It is essential to the protection of the community + against foreign attacks; it is not less essential to the steady + administration of the laws; to the protection of property against + those irregular and high-handed combinations which sometimes + interrupt the ordinary course of justice; to the security of + liberty against the enterprises and assaults of ambition, of + faction, and of anarchy. Every man the least conversant in Roman + story, knows how often that republic was obliged to take refuge in + the absolute power of a single man, under the formidable title of + Dictator, as well against the intrigues of ambitious individuals who + aspired to the tyranny, and the seditions of whole classes of the + community whose conduct threatened the existence of all government, + as against the invasions of external enemies who menaced the + conquest and destruction of Rome. +There can be no need, however, to multiply arguments or examples + on this head. A feeble Executive implies a feeble execution of the + government. A feeble execution is but another phrase for a bad + execution; and a government ill executed, whatever it may be in + theory, must be, in practice, a bad government. +Taking it for granted, therefore, that all men of sense will + agree in the necessity of an energetic Executive, it will only + remain to inquire, what are the ingredients which constitute this + energy? How far can they be combined with those other ingredients + which constitute safety in the republican sense? And how far does + this combination characterize the plan which has been reported by + the convention? +The ingredients which constitute energy in the Executive are, + first, unity; secondly, duration; thirdly, an adequate provision + for its support; fourthly, competent powers. +The ingredients which constitute safety in the repub lican sense + are, first, a due dependence on the people, secondly, a due + responsibility. +Those politicians and statesmen who have been the most + celebrated for the soundness of their principles and for the justice + of their views, have declared in favor of a single Executive and a + numerous legislature. They have with great propriety, considered + energy as the most necessary qualification of the former, and have + regarded this as most applicable to power in a single hand, while + they have, with equal propriety, considered the latter as best + adapted to deliberation and wisdom, and best calculated to + conciliate the confidence of the people and to secure their + privileges and interests. +That unity is conducive to energy will not be disputed. + Decision, activity, secrecy, and despatch will generally + characterize the proceedings of one man in a much more eminent + degree than the proceedings of any greater number; and in + proportion as the number is increased, these qualities will be + diminished. +This unity may be destroyed in two ways: either by vesting the + power in two or more magistrates of equal dignity and authority; or + by vesting it ostensibly in one man, subject, in whole or in part, + to the control and co-operation of others, in the capacity of + counsellors to him. Of the first, the two Consuls of Rome may serve + as an example; of the last, we shall find examples in the + constitutions of several of the States. New York and New Jersey, if + I recollect right, are the only States which have intrusted the + executive authority wholly to single men.1 Both these methods + of destroying the unity of the Executive have their partisans; but + the votaries of an executive council are the most numerous. They + are both liable, if not to equal, to similar objections, and may in + most lights be examined in conjunction. +The experience of other nations will afford little instruction + on this head. As far, however, as it teaches any thing, it teaches + us not to be enamoured of plurality in the Executive. We have seen + that the Achaeans, on an experiment of two Praetors, were induced to + abolish one. The Roman history records many instances of mischiefs + to the republic from the dissensions between the Consuls, and + between the military Tribunes, who were at times substituted for the + Consuls. But it gives us no specimens of any peculiar advantages + derived to the state from the circumstance of the plurality of those + magistrates. That the dissensions between them were not more + frequent or more fatal, is a matter of astonishment, until we advert + to the singular position in which the republic was almost + continually placed, and to the prudent policy pointed out by the + circumstances of the state, and pursued by the Consuls, of making a + division of the government between them. The patricians engaged in + a perpetual struggle with the plebeians for the preservation of + their ancient authorities and dignities; the Consuls, who were + generally chosen out of the former body, were commonly united by the + personal interest they had in the defense of the privileges of their + order. In addition to this motive of union, after the arms of the + republic had considerably expanded the bounds of its empire, it + became an established custom with the Consuls to divide the + administration between themselves by lot one of them remaining at + Rome to govern the city and its environs, the other taking the + command in the more distant provinces. This expedient must, no + doubt, have had great influence in preventing those collisions and + rivalships which might otherwise have embroiled the peace of the + republic. +But quitting the dim light of historical research, attaching + ourselves purely to the dictates of reason and good se se, we shall + discover much greater cause to reject than to approve the idea of + plurality in the Executive, under any modification whatever. +Wherever two or more persons are engaged in any common + enterprise or pursuit, there is always danger of difference of + opinion. If it be a public trust or office, in which they are + clothed with equal dignity and authority, there is peculiar danger + of personal emulation and even animosity. From either, and + especially from all these causes, the most bitter dissensions are + apt to spring. Whenever these happen, they lessen the + respectability, weaken the authority, and distract the plans and + operation of those whom they divide. If they should unfortunately + assail the supreme executive magistracy of a country, consisting of + a plurality of persons, they might impede or frustrate the most + important measures of the government, in the most critical + emergencies of the state. And what is still worse, they might split + the community into the most violent and irreconcilable factions, + adhering differently to the different individuals who composed the + magistracy. +Men often oppose a thing, merely because they have had no agency + in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom + they dislike. But if they have been consulted, and have happened to + disapprove, opposition then becomes, in their estimation, an + indispensable duty of self-love. They seem to think themselves + bound in honor, and by all the motives of personal infallibility, to + defeat the success of what has been resolved upon contrary to their + sentiments. Men of upright, benevolent tempers have too many + opportunities of remarking, with horror, to what desperate lengths + this disposition is sometimes carried, and how often the great + interests of society are sacrificed to the vanity, to the conceit, + and to the obstinacy of individuals, who have credit enough to make + their passions and their caprices interesting to mankind. Perhaps + the question now before the public may, in its consequences, afford + melancholy proofs of the effects of this despicable frailty, or + rather detestable vice, in the human character. +Upon the principles of a free government, inconveniences from + the source just mentioned must necessarily be submitted to in the + formation of the legislature; but it is unnecessary, and therefore + unwise, to introduce them into the constitution of the Executive. + It is here too that they may be most pernicious. In the + legislature, promptitude of decision is oftener an evil than a + benefit. The differences of opinion, and the jarrings of parties in + that department of the government, though they may sometimes + obstruct salutary plans, yet often promote deliberation and + circumspection, and serve to check excesses in the majority. When a + resolution too is once taken, the opposition must be at an end. + That resolution is a law, and resistance to it punishable. But no + favorable circumstances palliate or atone for the disadvantages of + dissension in the executive department. Here, they are pure and + unmixed. There is no point at which they cease to operate. They + serve to embarrass and weaken the execution of the plan or measure + to which they relate, from the first step to the final conclusion of + it. They constantly counteract those qualities in the Executive + which are the most necessary ingredients in its composition, vigor + and expedition, and this without anycounterbalancing good. In the + conduct of war, in which the energy of the Executive is the bulwark + of the national security, every thing would be to be apprehended + from its plurality. +It must be confessed that these observations apply with + principal weight to the first case supposed that is, to a plurality + of magistrates of equal dignity and authority a scheme, the + advocates for which are not likely to form a numerous sect; but + they apply, though not with equal, yet with considerable weight to + the project of a council, whose concurrence is made constitutionally + necessary to the operations of the ostensible Executive. An artful + cabal in that council would be able to distract and to enervate the + whole system of administration. If no such cabal should exist, the + mere diversity of views and opinions would alone be sufficient to + tincture the exercise of the executive authority with a spirit of + habitual feebleness and dilatoriness. +But one of the weightiest objections to a plurality in the + Executive, and which lies as much against the last as the first + plan, is, that it tends to conceal faults and destroy responsibility. +Responsibility is of two kinds to censure and to punishment. The + first is the more important of the two, especially in an elective + office. Man, in public trust, will much oftener act in such a + manner as to render him unworthy of being any longer trusted, than + in such a manner as to make him obnoxious to legal punishment. But + the multiplication of the Executive adds to the difficulty of + detection in either case. It often becomes impossible, amidst + mutual accusations, to determine on whom the blame or the punishment + of a pernicious measure, or series of pernicious measures, ought + really to fall. It is shifted from one to another with so much + dexterity, and under such plausible appearances, that the public + opinion is left in suspense about the real author. The + circumstances which may have led to any national miscarriage or + misfortune are sometimes so complicated that, where there are a + number of actors who may have had different degrees and kinds of + agency, though we may clearly see upon the whole that there has been + mismanagement, yet it may be impracticable to pronounce to whose + account the evil which may have been incurred is truly chargeable. +``I was overruled by my council. The council were so divided in + their opinions that it was impossible to obtain any better + resolution on the point.'' These and similar pretexts are + constantly at hand, whether true or false. And who is there that + will either take the trouble or incur the odium, of a strict + scrunity into the secret springs of the transaction? Should there + be found a citizen zealous enough to undertake the unpromising task, + if there happen to be collusion between the parties concerned, how + easy it is to clothe the circumstances with so much ambiguity, as to + render it uncertain what was the precise conduct of any of those + parties? +In the single instance in which the governor of this State is + coupled with a council that is, in the appointment to offices, we + have seen the mischiefs of it in the view now under consideration. + Scandalous appointments to important offices have been made. Some + cases, indeed, have been so flagrant that ALL PARTIES have agreed in + the impropriety of the thing. When inquiry has been made, the blame + has been laid by the governor on the members of the council, who, on + their part, have charged it upon his nomination; while the people + remain altogether at a loss to determine, by whose influence their + interests have been committed to hands so unqualified and so + manifestly improper. In tenderness to individuals, I forbear to + descend to particulars. +It is evident from these considerations, that the plurality of + the Executive tends to deprive the people of the two greatest + securities they can have for the faithful exercise of any delegated + power, first, the restraints of public opinion, which lose their + efficacy, as well on account of the division of the censure + attendant on bad measures among a number, as on account of the + uncertainty on whom it ought to fall; and, secondly, the + opportunity of discovering with facility and clearness the + misconduct of the persons they trust, in order either to their + removal from office or to their actual punishment in cases which + admit of it. +In England, the king is a perpetual magistrate; and it is a + maxim which has obtained for the sake of the pub lic peace, that he + is unaccountable for his administration, and his person sacred. + Nothing, therefore, can be wiser in that kingdom, than to annex to + the king a constitutional council, who may be responsible to the + nation for the advice they give. Without this, there would be no + responsibility whatever in the executive department an idea + inadmissible in a free government. But even there the king is not + bound by the resolutions of his council, though they are answerable + for the advice they give. He is the absolute master of his own + conduct in the exercise of his office, and may observe or disregard + the counsel given to him at his sole discretion. +But in a republic, where every magistrate ought to be personally + responsible for his behavior in office the reason which in the + British Constitution dictates the propriety of a council, not only + ceases to apply, but turns against the institution. In the monarchy + of Great Britain, it furnishes a substitute for the prohibited + responsibility of the chief magistrate, which serves in some degree + as a hostage to the national justice for his good behavior. In the + American republic, it would serve to destroy, or would greatly + diminish, the intended and necessary responsibility of the Chief + Magistrate himself. +The idea of a council to the Executive, which has so generally + obtained in the State constitutions, has been derived from that + maxim of republican jealousy which considers power as safer in the + hands of a number of men than of a single man. If the maxim should + be admitted to be applicable to the case, I should contend that the + advantage on that side would not counterbalance the numerous + disadvantages on the opposite side. But I do not think the rule at + all applicable to the executive power. I clearly concur in opinion, + in this particular, with a writer whom the celebrated Junius + pronounces to be ``deep, solid, and ingenious,'' that ``the + executive power is more easily confined when it is ONE'';2 that + it is far more safe there should be a single object for the jealousy + and watchfulness of the people; and, in a word, that all + multiplication of the Executive is rather dangerous than friendly to + liberty. +A little consideration will satisfy us, that the species of + security sought for in the multiplication of the Executive, is + nattainable. Numbers must be so great as to render combination + difficult, or they are rather a source of danger than of security. + The united credit and influence of several individuals must be more + formidable to liberty, than the credit and influence of either of + them separately. When power, therefore, is placed in the hands of + so small a number of men, as to admit of their interests and views + being easily combined in a common enterprise, by an artful leader, + it becomes more liable to abuse, and more dangerous when abused, + than if it be lodged in the hands of one man; who, from the very + circumstance of his being alone, will be more narrowly watched and + more readily suspected, and who cannot unite so great a mass of + influence as when he is associated with others. The Decemvirs of + Rome, whose name denotes their number,3 were more to be dreaded + in their usurpation than any ONE of them would have been. No person + would think of proposing an Executive much more numerous than that + body; from six to a dozen have been suggested for the number of the + council. The extreme of these numbers, is not too great for an easy + combination; and from such a combination America would have more to + fear, than from the ambition of any single individual. A council to + a magistrate, who is himself responsible for what he does, are + generally nothing better than a clog upon his good intentions, are + often the instruments and accomplices of his bad and are almost + always a cloak to his faults. +I forbear to dwell upon the subject of expense; though it be + evident that if the council should be numerous enough to answer the + principal end aimed at by the institution, the salaries of the + members, who must be drawn from their homes to reside at the seat of + government, would form an item in the catalogue of public + expenditures too serious to be incurred for an object of equivocal + utility. I will only add that, prior to the appearance of the + Constitution, I rarely met with an intelligent man from any of the + States, who did not admit, as the result of experience, that the + UNITY of the executive of this State was one of the best of the + distinguishing features of our constitution. +PUBLIUS. +1 New York has no council except for the single purpose of + appointing to offices; New Jersey has a council whom the governor + may consult. But I think, from the terms of the constitution, their + resolutions do not bind him. +2 De Lolme. +3 Ten. + + +FEDERALIST No. 71 + +The Duration in Office of the Executive +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, March 18, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +DURATION in office has been mentioned as the second requisite to + the energy of the Executive authority. This has relation to two + objects: to the personal firmness of the executive magistrate, in + the employment of his constitutional powers; and to the stability + of the system of administration which may have been adopted under + his auspices. With regard to the first, it must be evident, that + the longer the duration in office, the greater will be the + probability of obtaining so important an advantage. It is a general + principle of human nature, that a man will be interested in whatever + he possesses, in proportion to the firmness or precariousness of the + tenure by which he holds it; will be less attached to what he holds + by a momentary or uncertain title, than to what he enjoys by a + durable or certain title; and, of course, will be willing to risk + more for the sake of the one, than for the sake of the other. This + remark is not less applicable to a political privilege, or honor, or + trust, than to any article of ordinary property. The inference from + it is, that a man acting in the capacity of chief magistrate, under + a consciousness that in a very short time he MUST lay down his + office, will be apt to feel himself too little interested in it to + hazard any material censure or perplexity, from the independent + exertion of his powers, or from encountering the ill-humors, however + transient, which may happen to prevail, either in a considerable + part of the society itself, or even in a predominant faction in the + legislative body. If the case should only be, that he MIGHT lay it + down, unless continued by a new choice, and if he should be desirous + of being continued, his wishes, conspiring with his fears, would + tend still more powerfully to corrupt his integrity, or debase his + fortitude. In either case, feebleness and irresolution must be the + characteristics of the station. +There are some who would be inclined to regard the servile + pliancy of the Executive to a prevailing current, either in the + community or in the legislature, as its best recommendation. But + such men entertain very crude notions, as well of the purposes for + which government was instituted, as of the true means by which the + public happiness may be promoted. The republican principle demands + that the deliberate sense of the community should govern the conduct + of those to whom they intrust the management of their affairs; but + it does not require an unqualified complaisance to every sudden + breeze of passion, or to every transient impulse which the people + may receive from the arts of men, who flatter their prejudices to + betray their interests. It is a just observation, that the people + commonly INTEND the PUBLIC GOOD. This often applies to their very + errors. But their good sense would despise the adulator who should + pretend that they always REASON RIGHT about the MEANS of promoting + it. They know from experience that they sometimes err; and the + wonder is that they so seldom err as they do, beset, as they + continually are, by the wiles of parasites and sycophants, by the + snares of the ambitious, the avaricious, the desperate, by the + artifices of men who possess their confidence more than they deserve + it, and of those who seek to possess rather than to deserve it. + When occasions present themselves, in which the interests of the + people are at variance with their inclinations, it is the duty of + the persons whom they have appointed to be the guardians of those + interests, to withstand the temporary delusion, in order to give + them time and opportunity for more cool and sedate reflection. + Instances might be cited in which a conduct of this kind has saved + the people from very fatal consequences of their own mistakes, and + has procured lasting monuments of their gratitude to the men who had + courage and magnanimity enough to serve them at the peril of their + displeasure. +But however inclined we might be to insist upon an unbounded + complaisance in the Executive to the inclinations of the people, we + can with no propriety contend for a like complaisance to the humors + of the legislature. The latter may sometimes stand in opposition to + the former, and at other times the people may be entirely neutral. + In either supposition, it is certainly desirable that the Executive + should be in a situation to dare to act his own opinion with vigor + and decision. +The same rule which teaches the propriety of a partition between + the various branches of power, teaches us likewise that this + partition ought to be so contrived as to render the one independent + of the other. To what purpose separate the executive or the + judiciary from the legislative, if both the executive and the + judiciary are so constituted as to be at the absolute devotion of + the legislative? Such a separation must be merely nominal, and + incapable of producing the ends for which it was established. It is + one thing to be subordinate to the laws, and another to be dependent + on the legislative body. The first comports with, the last + violates, the fundamental principles of good government; and, + whatever may be the forms of the Constitution, unites all power in + the same hands. The tendency of the legislative authority to absorb + every other, has been fully displayed and illustrated by examples in + some preceding numbers. In governments purely republican, this + tendency is almost irresistible. The representatives of the people, + in a popular assembly, seem sometimes to fancy that they are the + people themselves, and betray strong symptoms of impatience and + disgust at the least sign of opposition from any other quarter; as + if the exercise of its rights, by either the executive or judiciary, + were a breach of their privilege and an outrage to their dignity. + They often appear disposed to exert an imperious control over the + other departments; and as they commonly have the people on their + side, they always act with such momentum as to make it very + difficult for the other members of the government to maintain the + balance of the Constitution. +It may perhaps be asked, how the shortness of the duration in + office can affect the independence of the Executive on the + legislature, unless the one were possessed of the power of + appointing or displacing the other. One answer to this inquiry may + be drawn from the principle already remarked that is, from the + slender interest a man is apt to take in a short-lived advantage, + and the little inducement it affords him to expose himself, on + account of it, to any considerable inconvenience or hazard. Another + answer, perhaps more obvious, though not more conclusive, will + result from the consideration of the influence of the legislative + body over the people; which might be employed to prevent the + re-election of a man who, by an upright resistance to any sinister + project of that body, should have made himself obnoxious to its + resentment. +It may be asked also, whether a duration of four years would + answer the end proposed; and if it would not, whether a less + period, which would at least be recommended by greater security + against ambitious designs, would not, for that reason, be preferable + to a longer period, which was, at the same time, too short for the + purpose of inspiring the desired firmness and independence of the + magistrate. +It cannot be affirmed, that a duration of four years, or any + other limited duration, would completely answer the end proposed; + but it would contribute towards it in a degree which would have a + material influence upon the spirit and character of the government. + Between the commencement and termination of such a period, there + would always be a considerable interval, in which the prospect of + annihilation would be sufficiently remote, not to have an improper + effect upon the conduct of a man indued with a tolerable portion of + fortitude; and in which he might reasonably promise himself, that + there would be time enough before it arrived, to make the community + sensible of the propriety of the measures he might incline to pursue. + Though it be probable that, as he approached the moment when the + public were, by a new election, to signify their sense of his + conduct, his confidence, and with it his firmness, would decline; + yet both the one and the other would derive support from the + opportunities which his previous continuance in the station had + afforded him, of establishing himself in the esteem and good-will of + his constituents. He might, then, hazard with safety, in proportion + to the proofs he had given of his wisdom and integrity, and to the + title he had acquired to the respect and attachment of his + fellow-citizens. As, on the one hand, a duration of four years will + contribute to the firmness of the Executive in a sufficient degree + to render it a very valuable ingredient in the composition; so, on + the other, it is not enough to justify any alarm for the public + liberty. If a British House of Commons, from the most feeble + beginnings, FROM THE MERE POWER OF ASSENTING OR DISAGREEING TO THE + IMPOSITION OF A NEW TAX, have, by rapid strides, reduced the + prerogatives of the crown and the privileges of the nobility within + the limits they conceived to be compatible with the principles of a + free government, while they raised themselves to the rank and + consequence of a coequal branch of the legislature; if they have + been able, in one instance, to abolish both the royalty and the + aristocracy, and to overturn all the ancient establishments, as well + in the Church as State; if they have been able, on a recent + occasion, to make the monarch tremble at the prospect of an + innovation1 attempted by them, what would be to be feared from + an elective magistrate of four years' duration, with the confined + authorities of a President of the United States? What, but that he + might be unequal to the task which the Constitution assigns him? I + shall only add, that if his duration be such as to leave a doubt of + his firmness, that doubt is inconsistent with a jealousy of his + encroachments. +PUBLIUS. +1 This was the case with respect to Mr. Fox's India bill, which + was carried in the House of Commons, and rejected in the House of + Lords, to the entire satisfaction, as it is said, of the people. + + +FEDERALIST No. 72 + +The Same Subject Continued, and Re-Eligibility of the Executive + Considered +From the New York Packet. +Friday, March 21, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE administration of government, in its largest sense, + comprehends all the operations of the body politic, whether + legislative, executive, or judiciary; but in its most usual, and + perhaps its most precise signification. It is limited to executive + details, and falls peculiarly within the province of the executive + department. The actual conduct of foreign negotiations, the + preparatory plans of finance, the application and disbursement of + the public moneys in conformity to the general appropriations of the + legislature, the arrangement of the army and navy, the directions of + the operations of war, these, and other matters of a like nature, + constitute what seems to be most properly understood by the + administration of government. The persons, therefore, to whose + immediate management these different matters are committed, ought to + be considered as the assistants or deputies of the chief magistrate, + and on this account, they ought to derive their offices from his + appointment, at least from his nomination, and ought to be subject + to his superintendence. This view of the subject will at once + suggest to us the intimate connection between the duration of the + executive magistrate in office and the stability of the system of + administration. To reverse and undo what has been done by a + predecessor, is very often considered by a successor as the best + proof he can give of his own capacity and desert; and in addition + to this propensity, where the alteration has been the result of + public choice, the person substituted is warranted in supposing that + the dismission of his predecessor has proceeded from a dislike to + his measures; and that the less he resembles him, the more he will + recommend himself to the favor of his constituents. These + considerations, and the influence of personal confidences and + attachments, would be likely to induce every new President to + promote a change of men to fill the subordinate stations; and these + causes together could not fail to occasion a disgraceful and ruinous + mutability in the administration of the government. +With a positive duration of considerable extent, I connect the + circumstance of re-eligibility. The first is necessary to give to + the officer himself the inclination and the resolution to act his + part well, and to the community time and leisure to observe the + tendency of his measures, and thence to form an experimental + estimate of their merits. The last is necessary to enable the + people, when they see reason to approve of his conduct, to continue + him in his station, in order to prolong the utility of his talents + and virtues, and to secure to the government the advantage of + permanency in a wise system of administration. +Nothing appears more plausible at first sight, nor more + ill-founded upon close inspection, than a scheme which in relation + to the present point has had some respectable advocates, I mean that + of continuing the chief magistrate in office for a certain time, and + then excluding him from it, either for a limited period or forever + after. This exclusion, whether temporary or perpetual, would have + nearly the same effects, and these effects would be for the most + part rather pernicious than salutary. +One ill effect of the exclusion would be a diminution of the + inducements to good behavior. There are few men who would not feel + much less zeal in the discharge of a duty when they were conscious + that the advantages of the station with which it was connected must + be relinquished at a determinate period, than when they were + permitted to entertain a hope of OBTAINING, by MERITING, a + continuance of them. This position will not be disputed so long as + it is admitted that the desire of reward is one of the strongest + incentives of human conduct; or that the best security for the + fidelity of mankind is to make their interests coincide with their + duty. Even the love of fame, the ruling passion of the noblest + minds, which would prompt a man to plan and undertake extensive and + arduous enterprises for the public benefit, requiring considerable + time to mature and perfect them, if he could flatter himself with + the prospect of being allowed to finish what he had begun, would, on + the contrary, deter him from the undertaking, when he foresaw that + he must quit the scene before he could accomplish the work, and must + commit that, together with his own reputation, to hands which might + be unequal or unfriendly to the task. The most to be expected from + the generality of men, in such a situation, is the negative merit of + not doing harm, instead of the positive merit of doing good. +Another ill effect of the exclusion would be the temptation to + sordid views, to peculation, and, in some instances, to usurpation. + An avaricious man, who might happen to fill the office, looking + forward to a time when he must at all events yield up the emoluments + he enjoyed, would feel a propensity, not easy to be resisted by such + a man, to make the best use of the opportunity he enjoyed while it + lasted, and might not scruple to have recourse to the most corrupt + expedients to make the harvest as abundant as it was transitory; + though the same man, probably, with a different prospect before + him, might content himself with the regular perquisites of his + situation, and might even be unwilling to risk the consequences of + an abuse of his opportunities. His avarice might be a guard upon + his avarice. Add to this that the same man might be vain or + ambitious, as well as avaricious. And if he could expect to prolong + his honors by his good conduct, he might hesitate to sacrifice his + appetite for them to his appetite for gain. But with the prospect + before him of approaching an inevitable annihilation, his avarice + would be likely to get the victory over his caution, his vanity, or + his ambition. +An ambitious man, too, when he found himself seated on the + summit of his country's honors, when he looked forward to the time + at which he must descend from the exalted eminence for ever, and + reflected that no exertion of merit on his part could save him from + the unwelcome reverse; such a man, in such a situation, would be + much more violently tempted to embrace a favorable conjuncture for + attempting the prolongation of his power, at every personal hazard, + than if he had the probability of answering the same end by doing + his duty. +Would it promote the peace of the community, or the stability of + the government to have half a dozen men who had had credit enough to + be raised to the seat of the supreme magistracy, wandering among the + people like discontented ghosts, and sighing for a place which they + were destined never more to possess? +A third ill effect of the exclusion would be, the depriving the + community of the advantage of the experience gained by the chief + magistrate in the exercise of his office. That experience is the + parent of wisdom, is an adage the truth of which is recognized by + the wisest as well as the simplest of mankind. What more desirable + or more essential than this quality in the governors of nations? + Where more desirable or more essential than in the first magistrate + of a nation? Can it be wise to put this desirable and essential + quality under the ban of the Constitution, and to declare that the + moment it is acquired, its possessor shall be compelled to abandon + the station in which it was acquired, and to which it is adapted? + This, nevertheless, is the precise import of all those regulations + which exclude men from serving their country, by the choice of their + fellowcitizens, after they have by a course of service fitted + themselves for doing it with a greater degree of utility. +A fourth ill effect of the exclusion would be the banishing men + from stations in which, in certain emergencies of the state, their + presence might be of the greatest moment to the public interest or + safety. There is no nation which has not, at one period or another, + experienced an absolute necessity of the services of particular men + in particular situations; perhaps it would not be too strong to + say, to the preservation of its political existence. How unwise, + therefore, must be every such self-denying ordinance as serves to + prohibit a nation from making use of its own citizens in the manner + best suited to its exigencies and circumstances! Without supposing + the personal essentiality of the man, it is evident that a change of + the chief magistrate, at the breaking out of a war, or at any + similar crisis, for another, even of equal merit, would at all times + be detrimental to the community, inasmuch as it would substitute + inexperience to experience, and would tend to unhinge and set afloat + the already settled train of the administration. +A fifth ill effect of the exclusion would be, that it would + operate as a constitutional interdiction of stability in the + administration. By NECESSITATING a change of men, in the first + office of the nation, it would necessitate a mutability of measures. + It is not generally to be expected, that men will vary and measures + remain uniform. The contrary is the usual course of things. And we + need not be apprehensive that there will be too much stability, + while there is even the option of changing; nor need we desire to + prohibit the people from continuing their confidence where they + think it may be safely placed, and where, by constancy on their + part, they may obviate the fatal inconveniences of fluctuating + councils and a variable policy. +These are some of the disadvantages which would flow from the + principle of exclusion. They apply most forcibly to the scheme of a + perpetual exclusion; but when we consider that even a partial + exclusion would always render the readmission of the person a remote + and precarious object, the observations which have been made will + apply nearly as fully to one case as to the other. +What are the advantages promised to counterbalance these + disadvantages? They are represented to be: 1st, greater + independence in the magistrate; 2d, greater security to the people. + Unless the exclusion be perpetual, there will be no pretense to + infer the first advantage. But even in that case, may he have no + object beyond his present station, to which he may sacrifice his + independence? May he have no connections, no friends, for whom he + may sacrifice it? May he not be less willing by a firm conduct, to + make personal enemies, when he acts under the impression that a time + is fast approaching, on the arrival of which he not only MAY, but + MUST, be exposed to their resentments, upon an equal, perhaps upon + an inferior, footing? It is not an easy point to determine whether + his independence would be most promoted or impaired by such an + arrangement. +As to the second supposed advantage, there is still greater + reason to entertain doubts concerning it. If the exclusion were to + be perpetual, a man of irregular ambition, of whom alone there could + be reason in any case to entertain apprehension, would, with + infinite reluctance, yield to the necessity of taking his leave + forever of a post in which his passion for power and pre-eminence + had acquired the force of habit. And if he had been fortunate or + adroit enough to conciliate the good-will of the people, he might + induce them to consider as a very odious and unjustifiable restraint + upon themselves, a provision which was calculated to debar them of + the right of giving a fresh proof of their attachment to a favorite. + There may be conceived circumstances in which this disgust of the + people, seconding the thwarted ambition of such a favorite, might + occasion greater danger to liberty, than could ever reasonably be + dreaded from the possibility of a perpetuation in office, by the + voluntary suffrages of the community, exercising a constitutional + privilege. +There is an excess of refinement in the idea of disabling the + people to continue in office men who had entitled themselves, in + their opinion, to approbation and confidence; the advantages of + which are at best speculative and equivocal, and are overbalanced by + disadvantages far more certain and decisive. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 73 +The Provision For The Support of the Executive, and the Veto Power +From the New York Packet. +Friday, March 21, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE third ingredient towards constituting the vigor of the + executive authority, is an adequate provision for its support. It + is evident that, without proper attention to this article, the + separation of the executive from the legislative department would be + merely nominal and nugatory. The legislature, with a discretionary + power over the salary and emoluments of the Chief Magistrate, could + render him as obsequious to their will as they might think proper to + make him. They might, in most cases, either reduce him by famine, + or tempt him by largesses, to surrender at discretion his judgment + to their inclinations. These expressions, taken in all the latitude + of the terms, would no doubt convey more than is intended. There + are men who could neither be distressed nor won into a sacrifice of + their duty; but this stern virtue is the growth of few soils; and + in the main it will be found that a power over a man's support is a + power over his will. If it were necessary to confirm so plain a + truth by facts, examples would not be wanting, even in this country, + of the intimidation or seduction of the Executive by the terrors or + allurements of the pecuniary arrangements of the legislative body. +It is not easy, therefore, to commend too highly the judicious + attention which has been paid to this subject in the proposed + Constitution. It is there provided that ``The President of the + United States shall, at stated times, receive for his services a + compensation WHICH SHALL NEITHER BE INCREASED NOR DIMINISHED DURING + THE PERIOD FOR WHICH HE SHALL HAVE BEEN ELECTED; and he SHALL NOT + RECEIVE WITHIN THAT PERIOD ANY OTHER EMOLUMENT from the United + States, or any of them.'' It is impossible to imagine any provision + which would have been more eligible than this. The legislature, on + the appointment of a President, is once for all to declare what + shall be the compensation for his services during the time for which + he shall have been elected. This done, they will have no power to + alter it, either by increase or diminution, till a new period of + service by a new election commences. They can neither weaken his + fortitude by operating on his necessities, nor corrupt his integrity + by appealing to his avarice. Neither the Union, nor any of its + members, will be at liberty to give, nor will he be at liberty to + receive, any other emolument than that which may have been + determined by the first act. He can, of course, have no pecuniary + inducement to renounce or desert the independence intended for him + by the Constitution. +The last of the requisites to energy, which have been + enumerated, are competent powers. Let us proceed to consider those + which are proposed to be vested in the President of the United + States. +The first thing that offers itself to our observation, is the + qualified negative of the President upon the acts or resolutions of + the two houses of the legislature; or, in other words, his power of + returning all bills with objections, to have the effect of + preventing their becoming laws, unless they should afterwards be + ratified by two thirds of each of the component members of the + legislative body. +The propensity of the legislative department to intrude upon the + rights, and to absorb the powers, of the other departments, has been + already suggested and repeated; the insufficiency of a mere + parchment delineation of the boundaries of each, has also been + remarked upon; and the necessity of furnishing each with + constitutional arms for its own defense, has been inferred and + proved. From these clear and indubitable principles results the + propriety of a negative, either absolute or qualified, in the + Executive, upon the acts of the legislative branches. Without the + one or the other, the former would be absolutely unable to defend + himself against the depredations of the latter. He might gradually + be stripped of his authorities by successive resolutions, or + annihilated by a single vote. And in the one mode or the other, the + legislative and executive powers might speedily come to be blended + in the same hands. If even no propensity had ever discovered itself + in the legislative body to invade the rights of the Executive, the + rules of just reasoning and theoretic propriety would of themselves + teach us, that the one ought not to be left to the mercy of the + other, but ought to possess a constitutional and effectual power of + selfdefense. +But the power in question has a further use. It not only serves + as a shield to the Executive, but it furnishes an additional + security against the enaction of improper laws. It establishes a + salutary check upon the legislative body, calculated to guard the + community against the effects of faction, precipitancy, or of any + impulse unfriendly to the public good, which may happen to influence + a majority of that body. +The propriety of a negative has, upon some occasions, been + combated by an observation, that it was not to be presumed a single + man would possess more virtue and wisdom than a number of men; and + that unless this presumption should be entertained, it would be + improper to give the executive magistrate any species of control + over the legislative body. +But this observation, when examined, will appear rather specious + than solid. The propriety of the thing does not turn upon the + supposition of superior wisdom or virtue in the Executive, but upon + the supposition that the legislature will not be infallible; that + the love of power may sometimes betray it into a disposition to + encroach upon the rights of other members of the government; that a + spirit of faction may sometimes pervert its deliberations; that + impressions of the moment may sometimes hurry it into measures which + itself, on maturer reflexion, would condemn. The primary inducement + to conferring the power in question upon the Executive is, to enable + him to defend himself; the secondary one is to increase the chances + in favor of the community against the passing of bad laws, through + haste, inadvertence, or design. The oftener the measure is brought + under examination, the greater the diversity in the situations of + those who are to examine it, the less must be the danger of those + errors which flow from want of due deliberation, or of those + missteps which proceed from the contagion of some common passion or + interest. It is far less probable, that culpable views of any kind + should infect all the parts of the government at the same moment and + in relation to the same object, than that they should by turns + govern and mislead every one of them. +It may perhaps be said that the power of preventing bad laws + includes that of preventing good ones; and may be used to the one + purpose as well as to the other. But this objection will have + little weight with those who can properly estimate the mischiefs of + that inconstancy and mutability in the laws, which form the greatest + blemish in the character and genius of our governments. They will + consider every institution calculated to restrain the excess of + law-making, and to keep things in the same state in which they + happen to be at any given period, as much more likely to do good + than harm; because it is favorable to greater stability in the + system of legislation. The injury which may possibly be done by + defeating a few good laws, will be amply compensated by the + advantage of preventing a number of bad ones. +Nor is this all. The superior weight and influence of the + legislative body in a free government, and the hazard to the + Executive in a trial of strength with that body, afford a + satisfactory security that the negative would generally be employed + with great caution; and there would oftener be room for a charge of + timidity than of rashness in the exercise of it. A king of Great + Britain, with all his train of sovereign attributes, and with all + the influence he draws from a thousand sources, would, at this day, + hesitate to put a negative upon the joint resolutions of the two + houses of Parliament. He would not fail to exert the utmost + resources of that influence to strangle a measure disagreeable to + him, in its progress to the throne, to avoid being reduced to the + dilemma of permitting it to take effect, or of risking the + displeasure of the nation by an opposition to the sense of the + legislative body. Nor is it probable, that he would ultimately + venture to exert his prerogatives, but in a case of manifest + propriety, or extreme necessity. All well-informed men in that + kingdom will accede to the justness of this remark. A very + considerable period has elapsed since the negative of the crown has + been exercised. +If a magistrate so powerful and so well fortified as a British + monarch, would have scruples about the exercise of the power under + consideration, how much greater caution may be reasonably expected + in a President of the United States, clothed for the short period of + four years with the executive authority of a government wholly and + purely republican? +It is evident that there would be greater danger of his not + using his power when necessary, than of his using it too often, or + too much. An argument, indeed, against its expediency, has been + drawn from this very source. It has been represented, on this + account, as a power odious in appearance, useless in practice. But + it will not follow, that because it might be rarely exercised, it + would never be exercised. In the case for which it is chiefly + designed, that of an immediate attack upon the constitutional rights + of the Executive, or in a case in which the public good was + evidently and palpably sacrificed, a man of tolerable firmness would + avail himself of his constitutional means of defense, and would + listen to the admonitions of duty and responsibility. In the former + supposition, his fortitude would be stimulated by his immediate + interest in the power of his office; in the latter, by the + probability of the sanction of his constituents, who, though they + would naturally incline to the legislative body in a doubtful case, + would hardly suffer their partiality to delude them in a very plain + case. I speak now with an eye to a magistrate possessing only a + common share of firmness. There are men who, under any + circumstances, will have the courage to do their duty at every + hazard. +But the convention have pursued a mean in this business, which + will both facilitate the exercise of the power vested in this + respect in the executive magistrate, and make its efficacy to depend + on the sense of a considerable part of the legislative body. + Instead of an absolute negative, it is proposed to give the + Executive the qualified negative already described. This is a power + which would be much more readily exercised than the other. A man + who might be afraid to defeat a law by his single VETO, might not + scruple to return it for reconsideration; subject to being finally + rejected only in the event of more than one third of each house + concurring in the sufficiency of his objections. He would be + encouraged by the reflection, that if his opposition should prevail, + it would embark in it a very respectable proportion of the + legislative body, whose influence would be united with his in + supporting the propriety of his conduct in the public opinion. A + direct and categorical negative has something in the appearance of + it more harsh, and more apt to irritate, than the mere suggestion of + argumentative objections to be approved or disapproved by those to + whom they are addressed. In proportion as it would be less apt to + offend, it would be more apt to be exercised; and for this very + reason, it may in practice be found more effectual. It is to be + hoped that it will not often happen that improper views will govern + so large a proportion as two thirds of both branches of the + legislature at the same time; and this, too, in spite of the + counterposing weight of the Executive. It is at any rate far less + probable that this should be the case, than that such views should + taint the resolutions and conduct of a bare majority. A power of + this nature in the Executive, will often have a silent and + unperceived, though forcible, operation. When men, engaged in + unjustifiable pursuits, are aware that obstructions may come from a + quarter which they cannot control, they will often be restrained by + the bare apprehension of opposition, from doing what they would with + eagerness rush into, if no such external impediments were to be + feared. +This qualified negative, as has been elsewhere remarked, is in + this State vested in a council, consisting of the governor, with the + chancellor and judges of the Supreme Court, or any two of them. It + has been freely employed upon a variety of occasions, and frequently + with success. And its utility has become so apparent, that persons + who, in compiling the Constitution, were violent opposers of it, + have from experience become its declared admirers.1 +I have in another place remarked, that the convention, in the + formation of this part of their plan, had departed from the model of + the constitution of this State, in favor of that of Massachusetts. + Two strong reasons may be imagined for this preference. One is + that the judges, who are to be the interpreters of the law, might + receive an improper bias, from having given a previous opinion in + their revisionary capacities; the other is that by being often + associated with the Executive, they might be induced to embark too + far in the political views of that magistrate, and thus a dangerous + combination might by degrees be cemented between the executive and + judiciary departments. It is impossible to keep the judges too + distinct from every other avocation than that of expounding the laws. + It is peculiarly dangerous to place them in a situation to be + either corrupted or influenced by the Executive. +PUBLIUS. +1 Mr. Abraham Yates, a warm opponent of the plan of the + convention is of this number. + + +FEDERALIST No. 74 + +The Command of the Military and Naval Forces, and the Pardoning + Power of the Executive +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, March 25, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE President of the United States is to be ``commander-in-chief + of the army and navy of the United States, and of the militia of the + several States WHEN CALLED INTO THE ACTUAL SERVICE of the United + States.'' The propriety of this provision is so evident in itself, + and it is, at the same time, so consonant to the precedents of the + State constitutions in general, that little need be said to explain + or enforce it. Even those of them which have, in other respects, + coupled the chief magistrate with a council, have for the most part + concentrated the military authority in him alone. Of all the cares + or concerns of government, the direction of war most peculiarly + demands those qualities which distinguish the exercise of power by a + single hand. The direction of war implies the direction of the + common strength; and the power of directing and employing the + common strength, forms a usual and essential part in the definition + of the executive authority. +``The President may require the opinion, in writing, of the + principal officer in each of the executive departments, upon any + subject relating to the duties of their respective officers.'' This + I consider as a mere redundancy in the plan, as the right for which + it provides would result of itself from the office. +He is also to be authorized to grant ``reprieves and pardons for + offenses against the United States, EXCEPT IN CASES OF + IMPEACHMENT.'' Humanity and good policy conspire to dictate, that + the benign prerogative of pardoning should be as little as possible + fettered or embarrassed. The criminal code of every country + partakes so much of necessary severity, that without an easy access + to exceptions in favor of unfortunate guilt, justice would wear a + countenance too sanguinary and cruel. As the sense of + responsibility is always strongest, in proportion as it is + undivided, it may be inferred that a single man would be most ready + to attend to the force of those motives which might plead for a + mitigation of the rigor of the law, and least apt to yield to + considerations which were calculated to shelter a fit object of its + vengeance. The reflection that the fate of a fellow-creature + depended on his sole fiat, would naturally inspire + scrupulousness and caution; the dread of being accused of weakness + or connivance, would beget equal circumspection, though of a + different kind. On the other hand, as men generally derive + confidence from their numbers, they might often encourage each other + in an act of obduracy, and might be less sensible to the + apprehension of suspicion or censure for an injudicious or affected + clemency. On these accounts, one man appears to be a more eligible + dispenser of the mercy of government, than a body of men. +The expediency of vesting the power of pardoning in the + President has, if I mistake not, been only contested in relation to + the crime of treason. This, it has been urged, ought to have + depended upon the assent of one, or both, of the branches of the + legislative body. I shall not deny that there are strong reasons to + be assigned for requiring in this particular the concurrence of that + body, or of a part of it. As treason is a crime levelled at the + immediate being of the society, when the laws have once ascertained + the guilt of the offender, there seems a fitness in referring the + expediency of an act of mercy towards him to the judgment of the + legislature. And this ought the rather to be the case, as the + supposition of the connivance of the Chief Magistrate ought not to + be entirely excluded. But there are also strong objections to such + a plan. It is not to be doubted, that a single man of prudence and + good sense is better fitted, in delicate conjunctures, to balance + the motives which may plead for and against the remission of the + punishment, than any numerous body whatever. It deserves particular + attention, that treason will often be connected with seditions which + embrace a large proportion of the community; as lately happened in + Massachusetts. In every such case, we might expect to see the + representation of the people tainted with the same spirit which had + given birth to the offense. And when parties were pretty equally + matched, the secret sympathy of the friends and favorers of the + condemned person, availing itself of the good-nature and weakness of + others, might frequently bestow impunity where the terror of an + example was necessary. On the other hand, when the sedition had + proceeded from causes which had inflamed the resentments of the + major party, they might often be found obstinate and inexorable, + when policy demanded a conduct of forbearance and clemency. But the + principal argument for reposing the power of pardoning in this case + to the Chief Magistrate is this: in seasons of insurrection or + rebellion, there are often critical moments, when a welltimed offer + of pardon to the insurgents or rebels may restore the tranquillity + of the commonwealth; and which, if suffered to pass unimproved, it + may never be possible afterwards to recall. The dilatory process of + convening the legislature, or one of its branches, for the purpose + of obtaining its sanction to the measure, would frequently be the + occasion of letting slip the golden opportunity. The loss of a + week, a day, an hour, may sometimes be fatal. If it should be + observed, that a discretionary power, with a view to such + contingencies, might be occasionally conferred upon the President, + it may be answered in the first place, that it is questionable, + whether, in a limited Constitution, that power could be delegated by + law; and in the second place, that it would generally be impolitic + beforehand to take any step which might hold out the prospect of + impunity. A proceeding of this kind, out of the usual course, would + be likely to be construed into an argument of timidity or of + weakness, and would have a tendency to embolden guilt. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 75 +The Treaty-Making Power of the Executive +For the Independent Journal. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE President is to have power, ``by and with the advice and + consent of the Senate, to make treaties, provided two thirds of the + senators present concur.'' +Though this provision has been assailed, on different grounds, + with no small degree of vehemence, I scruple not to declare my firm + persuasion, that it is one of the best digested and most + unexceptionable parts of the plan. One ground of objection is the + trite topic of the intermixture of powers; some contending that the + President ought alone to possess the power of making treaties; + others, that it ought to have been exclusively deposited in the + Senate. Another source of objection is derived from the small + number of persons by whom a treaty may be made. Of those who + espouse this objection, a part are of opinion that the House of + Representatives ought to have been associated in the business, while + another part seem to think that nothing more was necessary than to + have substituted two thirds of ALL the members of the Senate, to two + thirds of the members PRESENT. As I flatter myself the observations + made in a preceding number upon this part of the plan must have + sufficed to place it, to a discerning eye, in a very favorable + light, I shall here content myself with offering only some + supplementary remarks, principally with a view to the objections + which have been just stated. +With regard to the intermixture of powers, I shall rely upon the + explanations already given in other places, of the true sense of the + rule upon which that objection is founded; and shall take it for + granted, as an inference from them, that the union of the Executive + with the Senate, in the article of treaties, is no infringement of + that rule. I venture to add, that the particular nature of the + power of making treaties indicates a peculiar propriety in that + union. Though several writers on the subject of government place + that power in the class of executive authorities, yet this is + evidently an arbitrary disposition; for if we attend carefully to + its operation, it will be found to partake more of the legislative + than of the executive character, though it does not seem strictly to + fall within the definition of either of them. The essence of the + legislative authority is to enact laws, or, in other words, to + prescribe rules for the regulation of the society; while the + execution of the laws, and the employment of the common strength, + either for this purpose or for the common defense, seem to comprise + all the functions of the executive magistrate. The power of making + treaties is, plainly, neither the one nor the other. It relates + neither to the execution of the subsisting laws, nor to the enaction + of new ones; and still less to an exertion of the common strength. + Its objects are CONTRACTS with foreign nations, which have the + force of law, but derive it from the obligations of good faith. + They are not rules prescribed by the sovereign to the subject, but + agreements between sovereign and sovereign. The power in question + seems therefore to form a distinct department, and to belong, + properly, neither to the legislative nor to the executive. The + qualities elsewhere detailed as indispensable in the management of + foreign negotiations, point out the Executive as the most fit agent + in those transactions; while the vast importance of the trust, and + the operation of treaties as laws, plead strongly for the + participation of the whole or a portion of the legislative body in + the office of making them. +However proper or safe it may be in governments where the + executive magistrate is an hereditary monarch, to commit to him the + entire power of making treaties, it would be utterly unsafe and + improper to intrust that power to an elective magistrate of four + years' duration. It has been remarked, upon another occasion, and + the remark is unquestionably just, that an hereditary monarch, + though often the oppressor of his people, has personally too much + stake in the government to be in any material danger of being + corrupted by foreign powers. But a man raised from the station of a + private citizen to the rank of chief magistrate, possessed of a + moderate or slender fortune, and looking forward to a period not + very remote when he may probably be obliged to return to the station + from which he was taken, might sometimes be under temptations to + sacrifice his duty to his interest, which it would require + superlative virtue to withstand. An avaricious man might be tempted + to betray the interests of the state to the acquisition of wealth. + An ambitious man might make his own aggrandizement, by the aid of a + foreign power, the price of his treachery to his constituents. The + history of human conduct does not warrant that exalted opinion of + human virtue which would make it wise in a nation to commit + interests of so delicate and momentous a kind, as those which + concern its intercourse with the rest of the world, to the sole + disposal of a magistrate created and circumstanced as would be a + President of the United States. +To have intrusted the power of making treaties to the Senate + alone, would have been to relinquish the benefits of the + constitutional agency of the President in the conduct of foreign + negotiations. It is true that the Senate would, in that case, have + the option of employing him in this capacity, but they would also + have the option of letting it alone, and pique or cabal might induce + the latter rather than the former. Besides this, the ministerial + servant of the Senate could not be expected to enjoy the confidence + and respect of foreign powers in the same degree with the + constitutional representatives of the nation, and, of course, would + not be able to act with an equal degree of weight or efficacy. + While the Union would, from this cause, lose a considerable + advantage in the management of its external concerns, the people + would lose the additional security which would result from the + co-operation of the Executive. Though it would be imprudent to + confide in him solely so important a trust, yet it cannot be doubted + that his participation would materially add to the safety of the + society. It must indeed be clear to a demonstration that the joint + possession of the power in question, by the President and Senate, + would afford a greater prospect of security, than the separate + possession of it by either of them. And whoever has maturely + weighed the circumstances which must concur in the appointment of a + President, will be satisfied that the office will always bid fair to + be filled by men of such characters as to render their concurrence + in the formation of treaties peculiarly desirable, as well on the + score of wisdom, as on that of integrity. +The remarks made in a former number, which have been alluded to + in another part of this paper, will apply with conclusive force + against the admission of the House of Representatives to a share in + the formation of treaties. The fluctuating and, taking its future + increase into the account, the multitudinous composition of that + body, forbid us to expect in it those qualities which are essential + to the proper execution of such a trust. Accurate and comprehensive + knowledge of foreign politics; a steady and systematic adherence to + the same views; a nice and uniform sensibility to national + character; decision, SECRECY, and despatch, are incompatible with + the genius of a body so variable and so numerous. The very + complication of the business, by introducing a necessity of the + concurrence of so many different bodies, would of itself afford a + solid objection. The greater frequency of the calls upon the House + of Representatives, and the greater length of time which it would + often be necessary to keep them together when convened, to obtain + their sanction in the progressive stages of a treaty, would be a + source of so great inconvenience and expense as alone ought to + condemn the project. +The only objection which remains to be canvassed, is that which + would substitute the proportion of two thirds of all the members + composing the senatorial body, to that of two thirds of the members + PRESENT. It has been shown, under the second head of our inquiries, + that all provisions which require more than the majority of any body + to its resolutions, have a direct tendency to embarrass the + operations of the government, and an indirect one to subject the + sense of the majority to that of the minority. This consideration + seems sufficient to determine our opinion, that the convention have + gone as far in the endeavor to secure the advantage of numbers in + the formation of treaties as could have been reconciled either with + the activity of the public councils or with a reasonable regard to + the major sense of the community. If two thirds of the whole number + of members had been required, it would, in many cases, from the + non-attendance of a part, amount in practice to a necessity of + unanimity. And the history of every political establishment in + which this principle has prevailed, is a history of impotence, + perplexity, and disorder. Proofs of this position might be adduced + from the examples of the Roman Tribuneship, the Polish Diet, and the + States-General of the Netherlands, did not an example at home render + foreign precedents unnecessary. +To require a fixed proportion of the whole body would not, in + all probability, contribute to the advantages of a numerous agency, + better then merely to require a proportion of the attending members. + The former, by making a determinate number at all times requisite + to a resolution, diminishes the motives to punctual attendance. The + latter, by making the capacity of the body to depend on a PROPORTION + which may be varied by the absence or presence of a single member, + has the contrary effect. And as, by promoting punctuality, it tends + to keep the body complete, there is great likelihood that its + resolutions would generally be dictated by as great a number in this + case as in the other; while there would be much fewer occasions of + delay. It ought not to be forgotten that, under the existing + Confederation, two members MAY, and usually DO, represent a State; + whence it happens that Congress, who now are solely invested with + ALL THE POWERS of the Union, rarely consist of a greater number of + persons than would compose the intended Senate. If we add to this, + that as the members vote by States, and that where there is only a + single member present from a State, his vote is lost, it will + justify a supposition that the active voices in the Senate, where + the members are to vote individually, would rarely fall short in + number of the active voices in the existing Congress. When, in + addition to these considerations, we take into view the co-operation + of the President, we shall not hesitate to infer that the people of + America would have greater security against an improper use of the + power of making treaties, under the new Constitution, than they now + enjoy under the Confederation. And when we proceed still one step + further, and look forward to the probable augmentation of the + Senate, by the erection of new States, we shall not only perceive + ample ground of confidence in the sufficiency of the members to + whose agency that power will be intrusted, but we shall probably be + led to conclude that a body more numerous than the Senate would be + likely to become, would be very little fit for the proper discharge + of the trust. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 76 +The Appointing Power of the Executive +From the New York Packet. +Tuesday, April 1, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE President is ``to NOMINATE, and, by and with the advice and + consent of the Senate, to appoint ambassadors, other public + ministers and consuls, judges of the Supreme Court, and all other + officers of the United States whose appointments are not otherwise + provided for in the Constitution. But the Congress may by law vest + the appointment of such inferior officers as they think proper, in + the President alone, or in the courts of law, or in the heads of + departments. The President shall have power to fill up ALL + VACANCIES which may happen DURING THE RECESS OF THE SENATE, by + granting commissions which shall EXPIRE at the end of their next + session.'' +It has been observed in a former paper, that ``the true test of + a good government is its aptitude and tendency to produce a good + administration.'' If the justness of this observation be admitted, + the mode of appointing the officers of the United States contained + in the foregoing clauses, must, when examined, be allowed to be + entitled to particular commendation. It is not easy to conceive a + plan better calculated than this to promote a judicious choice of + men for filling the offices of the Union; and it will not need + proof, that on this point must essentially depend the character of + its administration. +It will be agreed on all hands, that the power of appointment, + in ordinary cases, ought to be modified in one of three ways. It + ought either to be vested in a single man, or in a SELECT assembly + of a moderate number; or in a single man, with the concurrence of + such an assembly. The exercise of it by the people at large will be + readily admitted to be impracticable; as waiving every other + consideration, it would leave them little time to do anything else. + When, therefore, mention is made in the subsequent reasonings of an + assembly or body of men, what is said must be understood to relate + to a select body or assembly, of the description already given. The + people collectively, from their number and from their dispersed + situation, cannot be regulated in their movements by that systematic + spirit of cabal and intrigue, which will be urged as the chief + objections to reposing the power in question in a body of men. +Those who have themselves reflected upon the subject, or who + have attended to the observations made in other parts of these + papers, in relation to the appointment of the President, will, I + presume, agree to the position, that there would always be great + probability of having the place supplied by a man of abilities, at + least respectable. Premising this, I proceed to lay it down as a + rule, that one man of discernment is better fitted to analyze and + estimate the peculiar qualities adapted to particular offices, than + a body of men of equal or perhaps even of superior discernment. +The sole and undivided responsibility of one man will naturally + beget a livelier sense of duty and a more exact regard to reputation. + He will, on this account, feel himself under stronger obligations, + and more interested to investigate with care the qualities requisite + to the stations to be filled, and to prefer with impartiality the + persons who may have the fairest pretensions to them. He will have + FEWER personal attachments to gratify, than a body of men who may + each be supposed to have an equal number; and will be so much the + less liable to be misled by the sentiments of friendship and of + affection. A single well-directed man, by a single understanding, + cannot be distracted and warped by that diversity of views, + feelings, and interests, which frequently distract and warp the + resolutions of a collective body. There is nothing so apt to + agitate the passions of mankind as personal considerations whether + they relate to ourselves or to others, who are to be the objects of + our choice or preference. Hence, in every exercise of the power of + appointing to offices, by an assembly of men, we must expect to see + a full display of all the private and party likings and dislikes, + partialities and antipathies, attachments and animosities, which are + felt by those who compose the assembly. The choice which may at any + time happen to be made under such circumstances, will of course be + the result either of a victory gained by one party over the other, + or of a compromise between the parties. In either case, the + intrinsic merit of the candidate will be too often out of sight. In + the first, the qualifications best adapted to uniting the suffrages + of the party, will be more considered than those which fit the + person for the station. In the last, the coalition will commonly + turn upon some interested equivalent: ``Give us the man we wish for + this office, and you shall have the one you wish for that.'' This + will be the usual condition of the bargain. And it will rarely + happen that the advancement of the public service will be the + primary object either of party victories or of party negotiations. +The truth of the principles here advanced seems to have been + felt by the most intelligent of those who have found fault with the + provision made, in this respect, by the convention. They contend + that the President ought solely to have been authorized to make the + appointments under the federal government. But it is easy to show, + that every advantage to be expected from such an arrangement would, + in substance, be derived from the power of NOMINATION, which is + proposed to be conferred upon him; while several disadvantages + which might attend the absolute power of appointment in the hands of + that officer would be avoided. In the act of nomination, his + judgment alone would be exercised; and as it would be his sole duty + to point out the man who, with the approbation of the Senate, should + fill an office, his responsibility would be as complete as if he + were to make the final appointment. There can, in this view, be no + difference others, who are to be the objects of our choice or + preference. Hence, in every exercise of the power of appointing to + offices, by an assembly of men, we must expect to see a full display + of all the private and party likings and dislikes, partialities and + antipathies, attachments and animosities, which are felt by those + who compose the assembly. The choice which may at any time happen + to be made under such circumstances, will of course be the result + either of a victory gained by one party over the other, or of a + compromise between the parties. In either case, the intrinsic merit + of the candidate will be too often out of sight. In the first, the + qualifications best adapted to uniting the suffrages of the party, + will be more considered than those which fit the person for the + station. In the last, the coalition will commonly turn upon some + interested equivalent: ``Give us the man we wish for this office, + and you shall have the one you wish for that.'' This will be the + usual condition of the bargain. And it will rarely happen that the + advancement of the public service will be the primary object either + of party victories or of party negotiations. +The truth of the principles here advanced seems to have been + felt by the most intelligent of those who have found fault with the + provision made, in this respect, by the convention. They contend + that the President ought solely to have been authorized to make the + appointments under the federal government. But it is easy to show, + that every advantage to be expected from such an arrangement would, + in substance, be derived from the power of NOMINATION, which is + proposed to be conferred upon him; while several disadvantages + which might attend the absolute power of appointment in the hands of + that officer would be avoided. In the act of nomination, his + judgment alone would be exercised; and as it would be his sole duty + to point out the man who, with the approbation of the Senate, should + fill an office, his responsibility would be as complete as if he + were to make the final appointment. There can, in this view, be no + difference between nominating and appointing. The same motives + which would influence a proper discharge of his duty in one case, + would exist in the other. And as no man could be appointed but on + his previous nomination, every man who might be appointed would be, + in fact, his choice. +But might not his nomination be overruled? I grant it might, + yet this could only be to make place for another nomination by + himself. The person ultimately appointed must be the object of his + preference, though perhaps not in the first degree. It is also not + very probable that his nomination would often be overruled. The + Senate could not be tempted, by the preference they might feel to + another, to reject the one proposed; because they could not assure + themselves, that the person they might wish would be brought forward + by a second or by any subsequent nomination. They could not even be + certain, that a future nomination would present a candidate in any + degree more acceptable to them; and as their dissent might cast a + kind of stigma upon the individual rejected, and might have the + appearance of a reflection upon the judgment of the chief + magistrate, it is not likely that their sanction would often be + refused, where there were not special and strong reasons for the + refusal. +To what purpose then require the co-operation of the Senate? I + answer, that the necessity of their concurrence would have a + powerful, though, in general, a silent operation. It would be an + excellent check upon a spirit of favoritism in the President, and + would tend greatly to prevent the appointment of unfit characters + from State prejudice, from family connection, from personal + attachment, or from a view to popularity. In addition to this, it + would be an efficacious source of stability in the administration. +It will readily be comprehended, that a man who had himself the + sole disposition of offices, would be governed much more by his + private inclinations and interests, than when he was bound to submit + the propriety of his choice to the discussion and determination of a + different and independent body, and that body an entire branch of + the legislature. The possibility of rejection would be a strong + motive to care in proposing. The danger to his own reputation, and, + in the case of an elective magistrate, to his political existence, + from betraying a spirit of favoritism, or an unbecoming pursuit of + popularity, to the observation of a body whose opinion would have + great weight in forming that of the public, could not fail to + operate as a barrier to the one and to the other. He would be both + ashamed and afraid to bring forward, for the most distinguished or + lucrative stations, candidates who had no other merit than that of + coming from the same State to which he particularly belonged, or of + being in some way or other personally allied to him, or of + possessing the necessary insignificance and pliancy to render them + the obsequious instruments of his pleasure. +To this reasoning it has been objected that the President, by + the influence of the power of nomination, may secure the + complaisance of the Senate to his views. This supposition of + universal venalty in human nature is little less an error in + political reasoning, than the supposition of universal rectitude. + The institution of delegated power implies, that there is a portion + of virtue and honor among mankind, which may be a reasonable + foundation of confidence; and experience justifies the theory. It + has been found to exist in the most corrupt periods of the most + corrupt governments. The venalty of the British House of Commons + has been long a topic of accusation against that body, in the + country to which they belong as well as in this; and it cannot be + doubted that the charge is, to a considerable extent, well founded. + But it is as little to be doubted, that there is always a large + proportion of the body, which consists of independent and + public-spirited men, who have an influential weight in the councils + of the nation. Hence it is (the present reign not excepted) that + the sense of that body is often seen to control the inclinations of + the monarch, both with regard to men and to measures. Though it + might therefore be allowable to suppose that the Executive might + occasionally influence some individuals in the Senate, yet the + supposition, that he could in general purchase the integrity of the + whole body, would be forced and improbable. A man disposed to view + human nature as it is, without either flattering its virtues or + exaggerating its vices, will see sufficient ground of confidence in + the probity of the Senate, to rest satisfied, not only that it will + be impracticable to the Executive to corrupt or seduce a majority of + its members, but that the necessity of its co-operation, in the + business of appointments, will be a considerable and salutary + restraint upon the conduct of that magistrate. Nor is the integrity + of the Senate the only reliance. The Constitution has provided some + important guards against the danger of executive influence upon the + legislative body: it declares that ``No senator or representative + shall during the time FOR WHICH HE WAS ELECTED, be appointed to any + civil office under the United States, which shall have been created, + or the emoluments whereof shall have been increased, during such + time; and no person, holding any office under the United States, + shall be a member of either house during his continuance in + office.'' +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 77 + +The Appointing Power Continued and Other Powers of the Executive + Considered +From the New York Packet. +Friday, April 4, 1788. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IT HAS been mentioned as one of the advantages to be expected + from the co-operation of the Senate, in the business of + appointments, that it would contribute to the stability of the + administration. The consent of that body would be necessary to + displace as well as to appoint. A change of the Chief Magistrate, + therefore, would not occasion so violent or so general a revolution + in the officers of the government as might be expected, if he were + the sole disposer of offices. Where a man in any station had given + satisfactory evidence of his fitness for it, a new President would + be restrained from attempting a change in favor of a person more + agreeable to him, by the apprehension that a discountenance of the + Senate might frustrate the attempt, and bring some degree of + discredit upon himself. Those who can best estimate the value of a + steady administration, will be most disposed to prize a provision + which connects the official existence of public men with the + approbation or disapprobation of that body which, from the greater + permanency of its own composition, will in all probability be less + subject to inconstancy than any other member of the government. +To this union of the Senate with the President, in the article + of appointments, it has in some cases been suggested that it would + serve to give the President an undue influence over the Senate, and + in others that it would have an opposite tendency, a strong proof + that neither suggestion is true. +To state the first in its proper form, is to refute it. It + amounts to this: the President would have an improper INFLUENCE + OVER the Senate, because the Senate would have the power of + RESTRAINING him. This is an absurdity in terms. It cannot admit of + a doubt that the entire power of appointment would enable him much + more effectually to establish a dangerous empire over that body, + than a mere power of nomination subject to their control. +Let us take a view of the converse of the proposition: ``the + Senate would influence the Executive.'' As I have had occasion to + remark in several other instances, the indistinctness of the + objection forbids a precise answer. In what manner is this + influence to be exerted? In relation to what objects? The power of + influencing a person, in the sense in which it is here used, must + imply a power of conferring a benefit upon him. How could the + Senate confer a benefit upon the President by the manner of + employing their right of negative upon his nominations? If it be + said they might sometimes gratify him by an acquiescence in a + favorite choice, when public motives might dictate a different + conduct, I answer, that the instances in which the President could + be personally interested in the result, would be too few to admit of + his being materially affected by the compliances of the Senate. The + POWER which can ORIGINATE the disposition of honors and emoluments, + is more likely to attract than to be attracted by the POWER which + can merely obstruct their course. If by influencing the President + be meant RESTRAINING him, this is precisely what must have been + intended. And it has been shown that the restraint would be + salutary, at the same time that it would not be such as to destroy a + single advantage to be looked for from the uncontrolled agency of + that Magistrate. The right of nomination would produce all the good + of that of appointment, and would in a great measure avoid its evils. + Upon a comparison of the plan for the appointment of the + officers of the proposed government with that which is established + by the constitution of this State, a decided preference must be + given to the former. In that plan the power of nomination is + unequivocally vested in the Executive. And as there would be a + necessity for submitting each nomination to the judgment of an + entire branch of the legislature, the circumstances attending an + appointment, from the mode of conducting it, would naturally become + matters of notoriety; and the public would be at no loss to + determine what part had been performed by the different actors. The + blame of a bad nomination would fall upon the President singly and + absolutely. The censure of rejecting a good one would lie entirely + at the door of the Senate; aggravated by the consideration of their + having counteracted the good intentions of the Executive. If an ill + appointment should be made, the Executive for nominating, and the + Senate for approving, would participate, though in different + degrees, in the opprobrium and disgrace. +The reverse of all this characterizes the manner of appointment + in this State. The council of appointment consists of from three to + five persons, of whom the governor is always one. This small body, + shut up in a private apartment, impenetrable to the public eye, + proceed to the execution of the trust committed to them. It is + known that the governor claims the right of nomination, upon the + strength of some ambiguous expressions in the constitution; but it + is not known to what extent, or in what manner he exercises it; nor + upon what occasions he is contradicted or opposed. The censure of a + bad appointment, on account of the uncertainty of its author, and + for want of a determinate object, has neither poignancy nor duration. + And while an unbounded field for cabal and intrigue lies open, all + idea of responsibility is lost. The most that the public can know, + is that the governor claims the right of nomination; that TWO out + of the inconsiderable number of FOUR men can too often be managed + without much difficulty; that if some of the members of a + particular council should happen to be of an uncomplying character, + it is frequently not impossible to get rid of their opposition by + regulating the times of meeting in such a manner as to render their + attendance inconvenient; and that from whatever cause it may + proceed, a great number of very improper appointments are from time + to time made. Whether a governor of this State avails himself of + the ascendant he must necessarily have, in this delicate and + important part of the administration, to prefer to offices men who + are best qualified for them, or whether he prostitutes that + advantage to the advancement of persons whose chief merit is their + implicit devotion to his will, and to the support of a despicable + and dangerous system of personal influence, are questions which, + unfortunately for the community, can only be the subjects of + speculation and conjecture. +Every mere council of appointment, however constituted, will be + a conclave, in which cabal and intrigue will have their full scope. + Their number, without an unwarrantable increase of expense, cannot + be large enough to preclude a facility of combination. And as each + member will have his friends and connections to provide for, the + desire of mutual gratification will beget a scandalous bartering of + votes and bargaining for places. The private attachments of one man + might easily be satisfied; but to satisfy the private attachments + of a dozen, or of twenty men, would occasion a monopoly of all the + principal employments of the government in a few families, and would + lead more directly to an aristocracy or an oligarchy than any + measure that could be contrived. If, to avoid an accumulation of + offices, there was to be a frequent change in the persons who were + to compose the council, this would involve the mischiefs of a + mutable administration in their full extent. Such a council would + also be more liable to executive influence than the Senate, because + they would be fewer in number, and would act less immediately under + the public inspection. Such a council, in fine, as a substitute for + the plan of the convention, would be productive of an increase of + expense, a multiplication of the evils which spring from favoritism + and intrigue in the distribution of public honors, a decrease of + stability in the administration of the government, and a diminution + of the security against an undue influence of the Executive. And + yet such a council has been warmly contended for as an essential + amendment in the proposed Constitution. +I could not with propriety conclude my observations on the + subject of appointments without taking notice of a scheme for which + there have appeared some, though but few advocates; I mean that of + uniting the House of Representatives in the power of making them. I + shall, however, do little more than mention it, as I cannot imagine + that it is likely to gain the countenance of any considerable part + of the community. A body so fluctuating and at the same time so + numerous, can never be deemed proper for the exercise of that power. + Its unfitness will appear manifest to all, when it is recollected + that in half a century it may consist of three or four hundred + persons. All the advantages of the stability, both of the Executive + and of the Senate, would be defeated by this union, and infinite + delays and embarrassments would be occasioned. The example of most + of the States in their local constitutions encourages us to + reprobate the idea. +The only remaining powers of the Executive are comprehended in + giving information to Congress of the state of the Union; in + recommending to their consideration such measures as he shall judge + expedient; in convening them, or either branch, upon extraordinary + occasions; in adjourning them when they cannot themselves agree + upon the time of adjournment; in receiving ambassadors and other + public ministers; in faithfully executing the laws; and in + commissioning all the officers of the United States. +Except some cavils about the power of convening EITHER house of + the legislature, and that of receiving ambassadors, no objection has + been made to this class of authorities; nor could they possibly + admit of any. It required, indeed, an insatiable avidity for + censure to invent exceptions to the parts which have been excepted + to. In regard to the power of convening either house of the + legislature, I shall barely remark, that in respect to the Senate at + least, we can readily discover a good reason for it. AS this body + has a concurrent power with the Executive in the article of + treaties, it might often be necessary to call it together with a + view to this object, when it would be unnecessary and improper to + convene the House of Representatives. As to the reception of + ambassadors, what I have said in a former paper will furnish a + sufficient answer. +We have now completed a survey of the structure and powers of + the executive department, which, I have endeavored to show, + combines, as far as republican principles will admit, all the + requisites to energy. The remaining inquiry is: Does it also + combine the requisites to safety, in a republican sense, a due + dependence on the people, a due responsibility? The answer to this + question has been anticipated in the investigation of its other + characteristics, and is satisfactorily deducible from these + circumstances; from the election of the President once in four + years by persons immediately chosen by the people for that purpose; + and from his being at all times liable to impeachment, trial, + dismission from office, incapacity to serve in any other, and to + forfeiture of life and estate by subsequent prosecution in the + common course of law. But these precautions, great as they are, are + not the only ones which the plan of the convention has provided in + favor of the public security. In the only instances in which the + abuse of the executive authority was materially to be feared, the + Chief Magistrate of the United States would, by that plan, be + subjected to the control of a branch of the legislative body. What + more could be desired by an enlightened and reasonable people? +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST No. 78 + +The Judiciary Department +From McLEAN'S Edition, New York. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +WE PROCEED now to an examination of the judiciary department of + the proposed government. +In unfolding the defects of the existing Confederation, the + utility and necessity of a federal judicature have been clearly + pointed out. It is the less necessary to recapitulate the + considerations there urged, as the propriety of the institution in + the abstract is not disputed; the only questions which have been + raised being relative to the manner of constituting it, and to its + extent. To these points, therefore, our observations shall be + confined. +The manner of constituting it seems to embrace these several + objects: 1st. The mode of appointing the judges. 2d. The tenure by + which they are to hold their places. 3d. The partition of the + judiciary authority between different courts, and their relations to + each other. +First. As to the mode of appointing the judges; this is + the same with that of appointing the officers of the Union in + general, and has been so fully discussed in the two last numbers, + that nothing can be said here which would not be useless repetition. +Second. As to the tenure by which the judges are to hold + their places; this chiefly concerns their duration in office; the + provisions for their support; the precautions for their + responsibility. +According to the plan of the convention, all judges who may be + appointed by the United States are to hold their offices DURING GOOD + BEHAVIOR; which is conformable to the most approved of the State + constitutions and among the rest, to that of this State. Its + propriety having been drawn into question by the adversaries of that + plan, is no light symptom of the rage for objection, which disorders + their imaginations and judgments. The standard of good behavior for + the continuance in office of the judicial magistracy, is certainly + one of the most valuable of the modern improvements in the practice + of government. In a monarchy it is an excellent barrier to the + despotism of the prince; in a republic it is a no less excellent + barrier to the encroachments and oppressions of the representative + body. And it is the best expedient which can be devised in any + government, to secure a steady, upright, and impartial + administration of the laws. +Whoever attentively considers the different departments of power + must perceive, that, in a government in which they are separated + from each other, the judiciary, from the nature of its functions, + will always be the least dangerous to the political rights of the + Constitution; because it will be least in a capacity to annoy or + injure them. The Executive not only dispenses the honors, but holds + the sword of the community. The legislature not only commands the + purse, but prescribes the rules by which the duties and rights of + every citizen are to be regulated. The judiciary, on the contrary, + has no influence over either the sword or the purse; no direction + either of the strength or of the wealth of the society; and can + take no active resolution whatever. It may truly be said to have + neither FORCE nor WILL, but merely judgment; and must ultimately + depend upon the aid of the executive arm even for the efficacy of + its judgments. +This simple view of the matter suggests several important + consequences. It proves incontestably, that the judiciary is beyond + comparison the weakest of the three departments of power1; that + it can never attack with success either of the other two; and that + all possible care is requisite to enable it to defend itself against + their attacks. It equally proves, that though individual oppression + may now and then proceed from the courts of justice, the general + liberty of the people can never be endangered from that quarter; I + mean so long as the judiciary remains truly distinct from both the + legislature and the Executive. For I agree, that ``there is no + liberty, if the power of judging be not separated from the + legislative and executive powers.''2 And it proves, in the last + place, that as liberty can have nothing to fear from the judiciary + alone, but would have every thing to fear from its union with either + of the other departments; that as all the effects of such a union + must ensue from a dependence of the former on the latter, + notwithstanding a nominal and apparent separation; that as, from + the natural feebleness of the judiciary, it is in continual jeopardy + of being overpowered, awed, or influenced by its co-ordinate + branches; and that as nothing can contribute so much to its + firmness and independence as permanency in office, this quality may + therefore be justly regarded as an indispensable ingredient in its + constitution, and, in a great measure, as the citadel of the public + justice and the public security. +The complete independence of the courts of justice is peculiarly + essential in a limited Constitution. By a limited Constitution, I + understand one which contains certain specified exceptions to the + legislative authority; such, for instance, as that it shall pass no + bills of attainder, no ex-post-facto laws, and the like. + Limitations of this kind can be preserved in practice no other way + than through the medium of courts of justice, whose duty it must be + to declare all acts contrary to the manifest tenor of the + Constitution void. Without this, all the reservations of particular + rights or privileges would amount to nothing. +Some perplexity respecting the rights of the courts to pronounce + legislative acts void, because contrary to the Constitution, has + arisen from an imagination that the doctrine would imply a + superiority of the judiciary to the legislative power. It is urged + that the authority which can declare the acts of another void, must + necessarily be superior to the one whose acts may be declared void. + As this doctrine is of great importance in all the American + constitutions, a brief discussion of the ground on which it rests + cannot be unacceptable. +There is no position which depends on clearer principles, than + that every act of a delegated authority, contrary to the tenor of + the commission under which it is exercised, is void. No legislative + act, therefore, contrary to the Constitution, can be valid. To deny + this, would be to affirm, that the deputy is greater than his + principal; that the servant is above his master; that the + representatives of the people are superior to the people themselves; + that men acting by virtue of powers, may do not only what their + powers do not authorize, but what they forbid. +If it be said that the legislative body are themselves the + constitutional judges of their own powers, and that the construction + they put upon them is conclusive upon the other departments, it may + be answered, that this cannot be the natural presumption, where it + is not to be collected from any particular provisions in the + Constitution. It is not otherwise to be supposed, that the + Constitution could intend to enable the representatives of the + people to substitute their WILL to that of their constituents. It + is far more rational to suppose, that the courts were designed to be + an intermediate body between the people and the legislature, in + order, among other things, to keep the latter within the limits + assigned to their authority. The interpretation of the laws is the + proper and peculiar province of the courts. A constitution is, in + fact, and must be regarded by the judges, as a fundamental law. It + therefore belongs to them to ascertain its meaning, as well as the + meaning of any particular act proceeding from the legislative body. + If there should happen to be an irreconcilable variance between the + two, that which has the superior obligation and validity ought, of + course, to be preferred; or, in other words, the Constitution ought + to be preferred to the statute, the intention of the people to the + intention of their agents. +Nor does this conclusion by any means suppose a superiority of + the judicial to the legislative power. It only supposes that the + power of the people is superior to both; and that where the will of + the legislature, declared in its statutes, stands in opposition to + that of the people, declared in the Constitution, the judges ought + to be governed by the latter rather than the former. They ought to + regulate their decisions by the fundamental laws, rather than by + those which are not fundamental. +This exercise of judicial discretion, in determining between two + contradictory laws, is exemplified in a familiar instance. It not + uncommonly happens, that there are two statutes existing at one + time, clashing in whole or in part with each other, and neither of + them containing any repealing clause or expression. In such a case, + it is the province of the courts to liquidate and fix their meaning + and operation. So far as they can, by any fair construction, be + reconciled to each other, reason and law conspire to dictate that + this should be done; where this is impracticable, it becomes a + matter of necessity to give effect to one, in exclusion of the other. + The rule which has obtained in the courts for determining their + relative validity is, that the last in order of time shall be + preferred to the first. But this is a mere rule of construction, + not derived from any positive law, but from the nature and reason of + the thing. It is a rule not enjoined upon the courts by legislative + provision, but adopted by themselves, as consonant to truth and + propriety, for the direction of their conduct as interpreters of the + law. They thought it reasonable, that between the interfering acts + of an EQUAL authority, that which was the last indication of its + will should have the preference. +But in regard to the interfering acts of a superior and + subordinate authority, of an original and derivative power, the + nature and reason of the thing indicate the converse of that rule as + proper to be followed. They teach us that the prior act of a + superior ought to be preferred to the subsequent act of an inferior + and subordinate authority; and that accordingly, whenever a + particular statute contravenes the Constitution, it will be the duty + of the judicial tribunals to adhere to the latter and disregard the + former. +It can be of no weight to say that the courts, on the pretense + of a repugnancy, may substitute their own pleasure to the + constitutional intentions of the legislature. This might as well + happen in the case of two contradictory statutes; or it might as + well happen in every adjudication upon any single statute. The + courts must declare the sense of the law; and if they should be + disposed to exercise WILL instead of JUDGMENT, the consequence would + equally be the substitution of their pleasure to that of the + legislative body. The observation, if it prove any thing, would + prove that there ought to be no judges distinct from that body. +If, then, the courts of justice are to be considered as the + bulwarks of a limited Constitution against legislative + encroachments, this consideration will afford a strong argument for + the permanent tenure of judicial offices, since nothing will + contribute so much as this to that independent spirit in the judges + which must be essential to the faithful performance of so arduous a + duty. +This independence of the judges is equally requisite to guard + the Constitution and the rights of individuals from the effects of + those ill humors, which the arts of designing men, or the influence + of particular conjunctures, sometimes disseminate among the people + themselves, and which, though they speedily give place to better + information, and more deliberate reflection, have a tendency, in the + meantime, to occasion dangerous innovations in the government, and + serious oppressions of the minor party in the community. Though I + trust the friends of the proposed Constitution will never concur + with its enemies,3 in questioning that fundamental principle of + republican government, which admits the right of the people to alter + or abolish the established Constitution, whenever they find it + inconsistent with their happiness, yet it is not to be inferred from + this principle, that the representatives of the people, whenever a + momentary inclination happens to lay hold of a majority of their + constituents, incompatible with the provisions in the existing + Constitution, would, on that account, be justifiable in a violation + of those provisions; or that the courts would be under a greater + obligation to connive at infractions in this shape, than when they + had proceeded wholly from the cabals of the representative body. + Until the people have, by some solemn and authoritative act, + annulled or changed the established form, it is binding upon + themselves collectively, as well as individually; and no + presumption, or even knowledge, of their sentiments, can warrant + their representatives in a departure from it, prior to such an act. + But it is easy to see, that it would require an uncommon portion of + fortitude in the judges to do their duty as faithful guardians of + the Constitution, where legislative invasions of it had been + instigated by the major voice of the community. +But it is not with a view to infractions of the Constitution + only, that the independence of the judges may be an essential + safeguard against the effects of occasional ill humors in the + society. These sometimes extend no farther than to the injury of + the private rights of particular classes of citizens, by unjust and + partial laws. Here also the firmness of the judicial magistracy is + of vast importance in mitigating the severity and confining the + operation of such laws. It not only serves to moderate the + immediate mischiefs of those which may have been passed, but it + operates as a check upon the legislative body in passing them; who, + perceiving that obstacles to the success of iniquitous intention are + to be expected from the scruples of the courts, are in a manner + compelled, by the very motives of the injustice they meditate, to + qualify their attempts. This is a circumstance calculated to have + more influence upon the character of our governments, than but few + may be aware of. The benefits of the integrity and moderation of + the judiciary have already been felt in more States than one; and + though they may have displeased those whose sinister expectations + they may have disappointed, they must have commanded the esteem and + applause of all the virtuous and disinterested. Considerate men, of + every description, ought to prize whatever will tend to beget or + fortify that temper in the courts: as no man can be sure that he + may not be to-morrow the victim of a spirit of injustice, by which + he may be a gainer to-day. And every man must now feel, that the + inevitable tendency of such a spirit is to sap the foundations of + public and private confidence, and to introduce in its stead + universal distrust and distress. +That inflexible and uniform adherence to the rights of the + Constitution, and of individuals, which we perceive to be + indispensable in the courts of justice, can certainly not be + expected from judges who hold their offices by a temporary + commission. Periodical appointments, however regulated, or by + whomsoever made, would, in some way or other, be fatal to their + necessary independence. If the power of making them was committed + either to the Executive or legislature, there would be danger of an + improper complaisance to the branch which possessed it; if to both, + there would be an unwillingness to hazard the displeasure of either; + if to the people, or to persons chosen by them for the special + purpose, there would be too great a disposition to consult + popularity, to justify a reliance that nothing would be consulted + but the Constitution and the laws. +There is yet a further and a weightier reason for the permanency + of the judicial offices, which is deducible from the nature of the + qualifications they require. It has been frequently remarked, with + great propriety, that a voluminous code of laws is one of the + inconveniences necessarily connected with the advantages of a free + government. To avoid an arbitrary discretion in the courts, it is + indispensable that they should be bound down by strict rules and + precedents, which serve to define and point out their duty in every + particular case that comes before them; and it will readily be + conceived from the variety of controversies which grow out of the + folly and wickedness of mankind, that the records of those + precedents must unavoidably swell to a very considerable bulk, and + must demand long and laborious study to acquire a competent + knowledge of them. Hence it is, that there can be but few men in + the society who will have sufficient skill in the laws to qualify + them for the stations of judges. And making the proper deductions + for the ordinary depravity of human nature, the number must be still + smaller of those who unite the requisite integrity with the + requisite knowledge. These considerations apprise us, that the + government can have no great option between fit character; and that + a temporary duration in office, which would naturally discourage + such characters from quitting a lucrative line of practice to accept + a seat on the bench, would have a tendency to throw the + administration of justice into hands less able, and less well + qualified, to conduct it with utility and dignity. In the present + circumstances of this country, and in those in which it is likely to + be for a long time to come, the disadvantages on this score would be + greater than they may at first sight appear; but it must be + confessed, that they are far inferior to those which present + themselves under the other aspects of the subject. +Upon the whole, there can be no room to doubt that the + convention acted wisely in copying from the models of those + constitutions which have established GOOD BEHAVIOR as the tenure of + their judicial offices, in point of duration; and that so far from + being blamable on this account, their plan would have been + inexcusably defective, if it had wanted this important feature of + good government. The experience of Great Britain affords an + illustrious comment on the excellence of the institution. +PUBLIUS. +1 The celebrated Montesquieu, speaking of them, says: ``Of the + three powers above mentioned, the judiciary is next to + nothing.'' ``Spirit of Laws.'' vol. i., page 186. +2 Idem, page 181. +3 Vide ``Protest of the Minority of the Convention of + Pennsylvania,'' Martin's Speech, etc. + + +FEDERALIST No. 79 + +The Judiciary Continued +From MCLEAN's Edition, New York. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +NEXT to permanency in office, nothing can contribute more to the + independence of the judges than a fixed provision for their support. + The remark made in relation to the President is equally applicable + here. In the general course of human nature, A POWER OVER A MAN's + SUBSISTENCE AMOUNTS TO A POWER OVER HIS WILL. And we can never hope + to see realized in practice, the complete separation of the judicial + from the legislative power, in any system which leaves the former + dependent for pecuniary resources on the occasional grants of the + latter. The enlightened friends to good government in every State, + have seen cause to lament the want of precise and explicit + precautions in the State constitutions on this head. Some of these + indeed have declared that PERMANENT1 salaries should be + established for the judges; but the experiment has in some + instances shown that such expressions are not sufficiently definite + to preclude legislative evasions. Something still more positive and + unequivocal has been evinced to be requisite. The plan of the + convention accordingly has provided that the judges of the United + States ``shall at STATED TIMES receive for their services a + compensation which shall not be DIMINISHED during their continuance + in office.'' +This, all circumstances considered, is the most eligible + provision that could have been devised. It will readily be + understood that the fluctuations in the value of money and in the + state of society rendered a fixed rate of compensation in the + Constitution inadmissible. What might be extravagant to-day, might + in half a century become penurious and inadequate. It was therefore + necessary to leave it to the discretion of the legislature to vary + its provisions in conformity to the variations in circumstances, yet + under such restrictions as to put it out of the power of that body + to change the condition of the individual for the worse. A man may + then be sure of the ground upon which he stands, and can never be + deterred from his duty by the apprehension of being placed in a less + eligible situation. The clause which has been quoted combines both + advantages. The salaries of judicial officers may from time to time + be altered, as occasion shall require, yet so as never to lessen the + allowance with which any particular judge comes into office, in + respect to him. It will be observed that a difference has been made + by the convention between the compensation of the President and of + the judges, That of the former can neither be increased nor + diminished; that of the latter can only not be diminished. This + probably arose from the difference in the duration of the respective + offices. As the President is to be elected for no more than four + years, it can rarely happen that an adequate salary, fixed at the + commencement of that period, will not continue to be such to its end. + But with regard to the judges, who, if they behave properly, will + be secured in their places for life, it may well happen, especially + in the early stages of the government, that a stipend, which would + be very sufficient at their first appointment, would become too + small in the progress of their service. +This provision for the support of the judges bears every mark of + prudence and efficacy; and it may be safely affirmed that, together + with the permanent tenure of their offices, it affords a better + prospect of their independence than is discoverable in the + constitutions of any of the States in regard to their own judges. +The precautions for their responsibility are comprised in the + article respecting impeachments. They are liable to be impeached + for malconduct by the House of Representatives, and tried by the + Senate; and, if convicted, may be dismissed from office, and + disqualified for holding any other. This is the only provision on + the point which is consistent with the necessary independence of the + judicial character, and is the only one which we find in our own + Constitution in respect to our own judges. +The want of a provision for removing the judges on account of + inability has been a subject of complaint. But all considerate men + will be sensible that such a provision would either not be practiced + upon or would be more liable to abuse than calculated to answer any + good purpose. The mensuration of the faculties of the mind has, I + believe, no place in the catalogue of known arts. An attempt to fix + the boundary between the regions of ability and inability, would + much oftener give scope to personal and party attachments and + enmities than advance the interests of justice or the public good. + The result, except in the case of insanity, must for the most part + be arbitrary; and insanity, without any formal or express + provision, may be safely pronounced to be a virtual disqualification. +The constitution of New York, to avoid investigations that must + forever be vague and dangerous, has taken a particular age as the + criterion of inability. No man can be a judge beyond sixty. I + believe there are few at present who do not disapprove of this + provision. There is no station, in relation to which it is less + proper than to that of a judge. The deliberating and comparing + faculties generally preserve their strength much beyond that period + in men who survive it; and when, in addition to this circumstance, + we consider how few there are who outlive the season of intellectual + vigor, and how improbable it is that any considerable portion of the + bench, whether more or less numerous, should be in such a situation + at the same time, we shall be ready to conclude that limitations of + this sort have little to recommend them. In a republic, where + fortunes are not affluent, and pensions not expedient, the + dismission of men from stations in which they have served their + country long and usefully, on which they depend for subsistence, and + from which it will be too late to resort to any other occupation for + a livelihood, ought to have some better apology to humanity than is + to be found in the imaginary danger of a superannuated bench. +PUBLIUS. +1 Vide ``Constitution of Massachusetts,'' chapter 2, section + I, article 13. + + +FEDERALIST No. 80 +The Powers of the Judiciary +From McLEAN's Edition, New York. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +To JUDGE with accuracy of the proper extent of the federal + judicature, it will be necessary to consider, in the first place, + what are its proper objects. +It seems scarcely to admit of controversy, that the judicary + authority of the Union ought to extend to these several descriptions + of cases: 1st, to all those which arise out of the laws of the + United States, passed in pursuance of their just and constitutional + powers of legislation; 2d, to all those which concern the execution + of the provisions expressly contained in the articles of Union; 3d, + to all those in which the United States are a party; 4th, to all + those which involve the PEACE of the CONFEDERACY, whether they + relate to the intercourse between the United States and foreign + nations, or to that between the States themselves; 5th, to all + those which originate on the high seas, and are of admiralty or + maritime jurisdiction; and, lastly, to all those in which the State + tribunals cannot be supposed to be impartial and unbiased. +The first point depends upon this obvious consideration, that + there ought always to be a constitutional method of giving efficacy + to constitutional provisions. What, for instance, would avail + restrictions on the authority of the State legislatures, without + some constitutional mode of enforcing the observance of them? The + States, by the plan of the convention, are prohibited from doing a + variety of things, some of which are incompatible with the interests + of the Union, and others with the principles of good government. + The imposition of duties on imported articles, and the emission of + paper money, are specimens of each kind. No man of sense will + believe, that such prohibitions would be scrupulously regarded, + without some effectual power in the government to restrain or + correct the infractions of them. This power must either be a direct + negative on the State laws, or an authority in the federal courts to + overrule such as might be in manifest contravention of the articles + of Union. There is no third course that I can imagine. The latter + appears to have been thought by the convention preferable to the + former, and, I presume, will be most agreeable to the States. +As to the second point, it is impossible, by any argument or + comment, to make it clearer than it is in itself. If there are such + things as political axioms, the propriety of the judicial power of a + government being coextensive with its legislative, may be ranked + among the number. The mere necessity of uniformity in the + interpretation of the national laws, decides the question. Thirteen + independent courts of final jurisdiction over the same causes, + arising upon the same laws, is a hydra in government, from which + nothing but contradiction and confusion can proceed. +Still less need be said in regard to the third point. + Controversies between the nation and its members or citizens, can + only be properly referred to the national tribunals. Any other plan + would be contrary to reason, to precedent, and to decorum. +The fourth point rests on this plain proposition, that the peace + of the WHOLE ought not to be left at the disposal of a PART. The + Union will undoubtedly be answerable to foreign powers for the + conduct of its members. And the responsibility for an injury ought + ever to be accompanied with the faculty of preventing it. As the + denial or perversion of justice by the sentences of courts, as well + as in any other manner, is with reason classed among the just causes + of war, it will follow that the federal judiciary ought to have + cognizance of all causes in which the citizens of other countries + are concerned. This is not less essential to the preservation of + the public faith, than to the security of the public tranquillity. + A distinction may perhaps be imagined between cases arising upon + treaties and the laws of nations and those which may stand merely on + the footing of the municipal law. The former kind may be supposed + proper for the federal jurisdiction, the latter for that of the + States. But it is at least problematical, whether an unjust + sentence against a foreigner, where the subject of controversy was + wholly relative to the lex loci, would not, if unredressed, be + an aggression upon his sovereign, as well as one which violated the + stipulations of a treaty or the general law of nations. And a still + greater objection to the distinction would result from the immense + difficulty, if not impossibility, of a practical discrimination + between the cases of one complexion and those of the other. So + great a proportion of the cases in which foreigners are parties, + involve national questions, that it is by far most safe and most + expedient to refer all those in which they are concerned to the + national tribunals. +The power of determining causes between two States, between one + State and the citizens of another, and between the citizens of + different States, is perhaps not less essential to the peace of the + Union than that which has been just examined. History gives us a + horrid picture of the dissensions and private wars which distracted + and desolated Germany prior to the institution of the Imperial + Chamber by Maximilian, towards the close of the fifteenth century; + and informs us, at the same time, of the vast influence of that + institution in appeasing the disorders and establishing the + tranquillity of the empire. This was a court invested with + authority to decide finally all differences among the members of the + Germanic body. +A method of terminating territorial disputes between the States, + under the authority of the federal head, was not unattended to, even + in the imperfect system by which they have been hitherto held + together. But there are many other sources, besides interfering + claims of boundary, from which bickerings and animosities may spring + up among the members of the Union. To some of these we have been + witnesses in the course of our past experience. It will readily be + conjectured that I allude to the fraudulent laws which have been + passed in too many of the States. And though the proposed + Constitution establishes particular guards against the repetition of + those instances which have heretofore made their appearance, yet it + is warrantable to apprehend that the spirit which produced them will + assume new shapes, that could not be foreseen nor specifically + provided against. Whatever practices may have a tendency to disturb + the harmony between the States, are proper objects of federal + superintendence and control. +It may be esteemed the basis of the Union, that ``the citizens + of each State shall be entitled to all the privileges and immunities + of citizens of the several States.'' And if it be a just principle + that every government OUGHT TO POSSESS THE MEANS OF EXECUTING ITS + OWN PROVISIONS BY ITS OWN AUTHORITY, it will follow, that in order + to the inviolable maintenance of that equality of privileges and + immunities to which the citizens of the Union will be entitled, the + national judiciary ought to preside in all cases in which one State + or its citizens are opposed to another State or its citizens. To + secure the full effect of so fundamental a provision against all + evasion and subterfuge, it is necessary that its construction should + be committed to that tribunal which, having no local attachments, + will be likely to be impartial between the different States and + their citizens, and which, owing its official existence to the + Union, will never be likely to feel any bias inauspicious to the + principles on which it is founded. +The fifth point will demand little animadversion. The most + bigoted idolizers of State authority have not thus far shown a + disposition to deny the national judiciary the cognizances of + maritime causes. These so generally depend on the laws of nations, + and so commonly affect the rights of foreigners, that they fall + within the considerations which are relative to the public peace. + The most important part of them are, by the present Confederation, + submitted to federal jurisdiction. +The reasonableness of the agency of the national courts in cases + in which the State tribunals cannot be supposed to be impartial, + speaks for itself. No man ought certainly to be a judge in his own + cause, or in any cause in respect to which he has the least interest + or bias. This principle has no inconsiderable weight in designating + the federal courts as the proper tribunals for the determination of + controversies between different States and their citizens. And it + ought to have the same operation in regard to some cases between + citizens of the same State. Claims to land under grants of + different States, founded upon adverse pretensions of boundary, are + of this description. The courts of neither of the granting States + could be expected to be unbiased. The laws may have even prejudged + the question, and tied the courts down to decisions in favor of the + grants of the State to which they belonged. And even where this had + not been done, it would be natural that the judges, as men, should + feel a strong predilection to the claims of their own government. +Having thus laid down and discussed the principles which ought + to regulate the constitution of the federal judiciary, we will + proceed to test, by these principles, the particular powers of + which, according to the plan of the convention, it is to be composed. + It is to comprehend ``all cases in law and equity arising under + the Constitution, the laws of the United States, and treaties made, + or which shall be made, under their authority; to all cases + affecting ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls; to all + cases of admiralty and maritime jurisdiction; to controversies to + which the United States shall be a party; to controversies between + two or more States; between a State and citizens of another State; + between citizens of different States; between citizens of the same + State claiming lands and grants of different States; and between a + State or the citizens thereof and foreign states, citizens, and + subjects.'' This constitutes the entire mass of the judicial + authority of the Union. Let us now review it in detail. It is, + then, to extend: +First. To all cases in law and equity, ARISING UNDER THE + CONSTITUTION and THE LAWS OF THE UNITED STATES. This corresponds + with the two first classes of causes, which have been enumerated, as + proper for the jurisdiction of the United States. It has been + asked, what is meant by ``cases arising under the Constitution,'' in + contradiction from those ``arising under the laws of the United + States''? The difference has been already explained. All the + restrictions upon the authority of the State legislatures furnish + examples of it. They are not, for instance, to emit paper money; + but the interdiction results from the Constitution, and will have + no connection with any law of the United States. Should paper + money, notwithstanding, be emited, the controversies concerning it + would be cases arising under the Constitution and not the laws of + the United States, in the ordinary signification of the terms. This + may serve as a sample of the whole. +It has also been asked, what need of the word ``equity What + equitable causes can grow out of the Constitution and laws of the + United States? There is hardly a subject of litigation between + individuals, which may not involve those ingredients of FRAUD, + ACCIDENT, TRUST, or HARDSHIP, which would render the matter an + object of equitable rather than of legal jurisdiction, as the + distinction is known and established in several of the States. It + is the peculiar province, for instance, of a court of equity to + relieve against what are called hard bargains: these are contracts + in which, though there may have been no direct fraud or deceit, + sufficient to invalidate them in a court of law, yet there may have + been some undue and unconscionable advantage taken of the + necessities or misfortunes of one of the parties, which a court of + equity would not tolerate. In such cases, where foreigners were + concerned on either side, it would be impossible for the federal + judicatories to do justice without an equitable as well as a legal + jurisdiction. Agreements to convey lands claimed under the grants + of different States, may afford another example of the necessity of + an equitable jurisdiction in the federal courts. This reasoning may + not be so palpable in those States where the formal and technical + distinction between LAW and EQUITY is not maintained, as in this + State, where it is exemplified by every day's practice. +The judiciary authority of the Union is to extend: +Second. To treaties made, or which shall be made, under the + authority of the United States, and to all cases affecting + ambassadors, other public ministers, and consuls. These belong to + the fourth class of the enumerated cases, as they have an evident + connection with the preservation of the national peace. +Third. To cases of admiralty and maritime jurisdiction. + These form, altogether, the fifth of the enumerated classes of + causes proper for the cognizance of the national courts. +Fourth. To controversies to which the United States shall be + a party. These constitute the third of those classes. +Fifth. To controversies between two or more States; between + a State and citizens of another State; between citizens of + different States. These belong to the fourth of those classes, and + partake, in some measure, of the nature of the last. +Sixth. To cases between the citizens of the same State, + CLAIMING LANDS UNDER GRANTS OF DIFFERENT STATES. These fall within + the last class, and ARE THE ONLY INSTANCES IN WHICH THE PROPOSED + CONSTITUTION DIRECTLY CONTEMPLATES THE COGNIZANCE OF DISPUTES + BETWEEN THE CITIZENS OF THE SAME STATE. +Seventh. To cases between a State and the citizens thereof, + and foreign States, citizens, or subjects. These have been already + explained to belong to the fourth of the enumerated classes, and + have been shown to be, in a peculiar manner, the proper subjects of + the national judicature. +From this review of the particular powers of the federal + judiciary, as marked out in the Constitution, it appears that they + are all conformable to the principles which ought to have governed + the structure of that department, and which were necessary to the + perfection of the system. If some partial inconviences should + appear to be connected with the incorporation of any of them into + the plan, it ought to be recollected that the national legislature + will have ample authority to make such EXCEPTIONS, and to prescribe + such regulations as will be calculated to obviate or remove these + inconveniences. The possibility of particular mischiefs can never + be viewed, by a wellinformed mind, as a solid objection to a general + principle, which is calculated to avoid general mischiefs and to + obtain general advantages. +PUBLIUS. + + +FEDERALIST. No. 81 + +The Judiciary Continued, and the Distribution of the Judicial + Authority +From McLEAN's Edition, New York. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +LET US now return to the partition of the judiciary authority + between different courts, and their relations to each other, + ``The judicial power of the United States is'' (by the plan of + the convention) ``to be vested in one Supreme Court, and in such + inferior courts as the Congress may, from time to time, ordain and + establish.''1 +That there ought to be one court of supreme and final + jurisdiction, is a proposition which is not likely to be contested. + The reasons for it have been assigned in another place, and are too + obvious to need repetition. The only question that seems to have + been raised concerning it, is, whether it ought to be a distinct + body or a branch of the legislature. The same contradiction is + observable in regard to this matter which has been remarked in + several other cases. The very men who object to the Senate as a + court of impeachments, on the ground of an improper intermixture of + powers, advocate, by implication at least, the propriety of vesting + the ultimate decision of all causes, in the whole or in a part of + the legislative body. +The arguments, or rather suggestions, upon which this charge is + founded, are to this effect: ``The authority of the proposed + Supreme Court of the United States, which is to be a separate and + independent body, will be superior to that of the legislature. The + power of construing the laws according to the SPIRIT of the + Constitution, will enable that court to mould them into whatever + shape it may think proper; especially as its decisions will not be + in any manner subject to the revision or correction of the + legislative body. This is as unprecedented as it is dangerous. In + Britain, the judical power, in the last resort, resides in the House + of Lords, which is a branch of the legislature; and this part of + the British government has been imitated in the State constitutions + in general. The Parliament of Great Britain, and the legislatures + of the several States, can at any time rectify, by law, the + exceptionable decisions of their respective courts. But the errors + and usurpations of the Supreme Court of the United States will be + uncontrollable and remediless.'' This, upon examination, will be + found to be made up altogether of false reasoning upon misconceived + fact. +In the first place, there is not a syllable in the plan under + consideration which DIRECTLY empowers the national courts to + construe the laws according to the spirit of the Constitution, or + which gives them any greater latitude in this respect than may be + claimed by the courts of every State. I admit, however, that the + Constitution ought to be the standard of construction for the laws, + and that wherever there is an evident opposition, the laws ought to + give place to the Constitution. But this doctrine is not deducible + from any circumstance peculiar to the plan of the convention, but + from the general theory of a limited Constitution; and as far as it + is true, is equally applicable to most, if not to all the State + governments. There can be no objection, therefore, on this account, + to the federal judicature which will not lie against the local + judicatures in general, and which will not serve to condemn every + constitution that attempts to set bounds to legislative discretion. +But perhaps the force of the objection may be thought to consist + in the particular organization of the Supreme Court; in its being + composed of a distinct body of magistrates, instead of being one of + the branches of the legislature, as in the government of Great + Britain and that of the State. To insist upon this point, the + authors of the objection must renounce the meaning they have labored + to annex to the celebrated maxim, requiring a separation of the + departments of power. It shall, nevertheless, be conceded to them, + agreeably to the interpretation given to that maxim in the course of + these papers, that it is not violated by vesting the ultimate power + of judging in a PART of the legislative body. But though this be + not an absolute violation of that excellent rule, yet it verges so + nearly upon it, as on this account alone to be less eligible than + the mode preferred by the convention. From a body which had even a + partial agency in passing bad laws, we could rarely expect a + disposition to temper and moderate them in the application. The + same spirit which had operated in making them, would be too apt in + interpreting them; still less could it be expected that men who had + infringed the Constitution in the character of legislators, would be + disposed to repair the breach in the character of judges. Nor is + this all. Every reason which recommends the tenure of good behavior + for judicial offices, militates against placing the judiciary power, + in the last resort, in a body composed of men chosen for a limited + period. There is an absurdity in referring the determination of + causes, in the first instance, to judges of permanent standing; in + the last, to those of a temporary and mutable constitution. And + there is a still greater absurdity in subjecting the decisions of + men, selected for their knowledge of the laws, acquired by long and + laborious study, to the revision and control of men who, for want of + the same advantage, cannot but be deficient in that knowledge. The + members of the legislature will rarely be chosen with a view to + those qualifications which fit men for the stations of judges; and + as, on this account, there will be great reason to apprehend all the + ill consequences of defective information, so, on account of the + natural propensity of such bodies to party divisions, there will be + no less reason to fear that the pestilential breath of faction may + poison the fountains of justice. The habit of being continually + marshalled on opposite sides will be too apt to stifle the voice + both of law and of equity. +These considerations teach us to applaud the wisdom of those + States who have committed the judicial power, in the last resort, + not to a part of the legislature, but to distinct and independent + bodies of men. Contrary to the supposition of those who have + represented the plan of the convention, in this respect, as novel + and unprecedented, it is but a copy of the constitutions of New + Hampshire, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, + Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia; and the + preference which has been given to those models is highly to be + commended. +It is not true, in the second place, that the Parliament of + Great Britain, or the legislatures of the particular States, can + rectify the exceptionable decisions of their respective courts, in + any other sense than might be done by a future legislature of the + United States. The theory, neither of the British, nor the State + constitutions, authorizes the revisal of a judicial sentence by a + legislative act. Nor is there any thing in the proposed + Constitution, more than in either of them, by which it is forbidden. + In the former, as well as in the latter, the impropriety of the + thing, on the general principles of law and reason, is the sole + obstacle. A legislature, without exceeding its province, cannot + reverse a determination once made in a particular case; though it + may prescribe a new rule for future cases. This is the principle, + and it applies in all its consequences, exactly in the same manner + and extent, to the State governments, as to the national government + now under consideration. Not the least difference can be pointed + out in any view of the subject. +It may in the last place be observed that the supposed danger of + judiciary encroachments on the legislative authority, which has been + upon many occasions reiterated, is in reality a phantom. Particular + misconstructions and contraventions of the will of the legislature + may now and then happen; but they can never be so extensive as to + amount to an inconvenience, or in any sensible degree to affect the + order of the political system. This may be inferred with certainty, + from the general nature of the judicial power, from the objects to + which it relates, from the manner in which it is exercised, from its + comparative weakness, and from its total incapacity to support its + usurpations by force. And the inference is greatly fortified by the + consideration of the important constitutional check which the power + of instituting impeachments in one part of the legislative body, and + of determining upon them in the other, would give to that body upon + the members of the judicial department. This is alone a complete + security. There never can be danger that the judges, by a series of + deliberate usurpations on the authority of the legislature, would + hazard the united resentment of the body intrusted with it, while + this body was possessed of the means of punishing their presumption, + by degrading them from their stations. While this ought to remove + all apprehensions on the subject, it affords, at the same time, a + cogent argument for constituting the Senate a court for the trial of + impeachments. +Having now examined, and, I trust, removed the objections to the + distinct and independent organization of the Supreme Court, I + proceed to consider the propriety of the power of constituting + inferior courts,2 and the relations which will subsist between + these and the former. +The power of constituting inferior courts is evidently + calculated to obviate the necessity of having recourse to the + Supreme Court in every case of federal cognizance. It is intended + to enable the national government to institute or AUTHORUZE, in each + State or district of the United States, a tribunal competent to the + determination of matters of national jurisdiction within its limits. +But why, it is asked, might not the same purpose have been + accomplished by the instrumentality of the State courts? This + admits of different answers. Though the fitness and competency of + those courts should be allowed in the utmost latitude, yet the + substance of the power in question may still be regarded as a + necessary part of the plan, if it were only to empower the national + legislature to commit to them the cognizance of causes arising out + of the national Constitution. To confer the power of determining + such causes upon the existing courts of the several States, would + perhaps be as much ``to constitute tribunals,'' as to create new + courts with the like power. But ought not a more direct and + explicit provision to have been made in favor of the State courts? + There are, in my opinion, substantial reasons against such a + provision: the most discerning cannot foresee how far the + prevalency of a local spirit may be found to disqualify the local + tribunals for the jurisdiction of national causes; whilst every man + may discover, that courts constituted like those of some of the + States would be improper channels of the judicial authority of the + Union. State judges, holding their offices during pleasure, or from + year to year, will be too little independent to be relied upon for + an inflexible execution of the national laws. And if there was a + necessity for confiding the original cognizance of causes arising + under those laws to them there would be a correspondent necessity + for leaving the door of appeal as wide as possible. In proportion + to the grounds of confidence in, or distrust of, the subordinate + tribunals, ought to be the facility or difficulty of appeals. And + well satisfied as I am of the propriety of the appellate + jurisdiction, in the several classes of causes to which it is + extended by the plan of the convention. I should consider every + thing calculated to give, in practice, an UNRESTRAINED COURSE to + appeals, as a source of public and private inconvenience. +I am not sure, but that it will be found highly expedient and + useful, to divide the United States into four or five or half a + dozen districts; and to institute a federal court in each district, + in lieu of one in every State. The judges of these courts, with the + aid of the State judges, may hold circuits for the trial of causes + in the several parts of the respective districts. Justice through + them may be administered with ease and despatch; and appeals may be + safely circumscribed within a narrow compass. This plan appears to + me at present the most eligible of any that could be adopted; and + in order to it, it is necessary that the power of constituting + inferior courts should exist in the full extent in which it is to be + found in the proposed Constitution. +These reasons seem sufficient to satisfy a candid mind, that the + want of such a power would have been a great defect in the plan. + Let us now examine in what manner the judicial authority is to be + distributed between the supreme and the inferior courts of the Union. + The Supreme Court is to be invested with original jurisdiction, + only ``in cases affecting ambassadors, other public ministers, and + consuls, and those in which A STATE shall be a party.'' Public + ministers of every class are the immediate representatives of their + sovereigns. All questions in which they are concerned are so + directly connected with the public peace, that, as well for the + preservation of this, as out of respect to the sovereignties they + represent, it is both expedient and proper that such questions + should be submitted in the first instance to the highest judicatory + of the nation. Though consuls have not in strictness a diplomatic + character, yet as they are the public agents of the nations to which + they belong, the same observation is in a great measure applicable + to them. In cases in which a State might happen to be a party, it + would ill suit its dignity to be turned over to an inferior tribunal. + Though it may rather be a digression from the immediate subject + of this paper, I shall take occasion to mention here a supposition + which has excited some alarm upon very mistaken grounds. It has + been suggested that an assignment of the public securities of one + State to the citizens of another, would enable them to prosecute + that State in the federal courts for the amount of those securities; + a suggestion which the following considerations prove to be without + foundation. +It is inherent in the nature of sovereignty not to be amenable + to the suit of an individual WITHOUT ITS CONSENT. This is the + general sense, and the general practice of mankind; and the + exemption, as one of the attributes of sovereignty, is now enjoyed + by the government of every State in the Union. Unless, therefore, + there is a surrender of this immunity in the plan of the convention, + it will remain with the States, and the danger intimated must be + merely ideal. The circumstances which are necessary to produce an + alienation of State sovereignty were discussed in considering the + article of taxation, and need not be repeated here. A recurrence to + the principles there established will satisfy us, that there is no + color to pretend that the State governments would, by the adoption + of that plan, be divested of the privilege of paying their own debts + in their own way, free from every constraint but that which flows + from the obligations of good faith. The contracts between a nation + and individuals are only binding on the conscience of the sovereign, + and have no pretensions to a compulsive force. They confer no right + of action, independent of the sovereign will. To what purpose would + it be to authorize suits against States for the debts they owe? How + could recoveries be enforced? It is evident, it could not be done + without waging war against the contracting State; and to ascribe to + the federal courts, by mere implication, and in destruction of a + pre-existing right of the State governments, a power which would + involve such a consequence, would be altogether forced and + unwarrantable. +Let us resume the train of our observations. We have seen that + the original jurisdiction of the Supreme Court would be confined to + two classes of causes, and those of a nature rarely to occur. In + all other cases of federal cognizance, the original jurisdiction + would appertain to the inferior tribunals; and the Supreme Court + would have nothing more than an appellate jurisdiction, ``with such + EXCEPTIONS and under such REGULATIONS as the Congress shall make.'' +The propriety of this appellate jurisdiction has been scarcely + called in question in regard to matters of law; but the clamors + have been loud against it as applied to matters of fact. Some + well-intentioned men in this State, deriving their notions from the + language and forms which obtain in our courts, have been induced to + consider it as an implied supersedure of the trial by jury, in favor + of the civil-law mode of trial, which prevails in our courts of + admiralty, probate, and chancery. A technical sense has been + affixed to the term ``appellate,'' which, in our law parlance, is + commonly used in reference to appeals in the course of the civil law. + But if I am not misinformed, the same meaning would not be given + to it in any part of New England. There an appeal from one jury to + another, is familiar both in language and practice, and is even a + matter of course, until there have been two verdicts on one side. + The word ``appellate,'' therefore, will not be understood in the + same sense in New England as in New York, which shows the + impropriety of a technical interpretation derived from the + jurisprudence of any particular State. The expression, taken in the + abstract, denotes nothing more than the power of one tribunal to + review the proceedings of another, either as to the law or fact, or + both. The mode of doing it may depend on ancient custom or + legislative provision (in a new government it must depend on the + latter), and may be with or without the aid of a jury, as may be + judged advisable. If, therefore, the re-examination of a fact once + determined by a jury, should in any case be admitted under the + proposed Constitution, it may be so regulated as to be done by a + second jury, either by remanding the cause to the court below for a + second trial of the fact, or by directing an issue immediately out + of the Supreme Court. +But it does not follow that the re-examination of a fact once + ascertained by a jury, will be permitted in the Supreme Court. Why + may not it be said, with the strictest propriety, when a writ of + error is brought from an inferior to a superior court of law in this + State, that the latter has jurisdiction of the fact as well as the + law? It is true it cannot institute a new inquiry concerning the + fact, but it takes cognizance of it as it appears upon the record, + and pronounces the law arising upon it.3 This is jurisdiction + of both fact and law; nor is it even possible to separate them. + Though the common-law courts of this State ascertain disputed facts + by a jury, yet they unquestionably have jurisdiction of both fact + and law; and accordingly when the former is agreed in the + pleadings, they have no recourse to a jury, but proceed at once to + judgment. I contend, therefore, on this ground, that the + expressions, ``appellate jurisdiction, both as to law and fact,'' do + not necessarily imply a re-examination in the Supreme Court of facts + decided by juries in the inferior courts. +The following train of ideas may well be imagined to have + influenced the convention, in relation to this particular provision. + The appellate jurisdiction of the Supreme Court (it may have been + argued) will extend to causes determinable in different modes, some + in the course of the COMMON LAW, others in the course of the CIVIL + LAW. In the former, the revision of the law only will be, generally + speaking, the proper province of the Supreme Court; in the latter, + the re-examination of the fact is agreeable to usage, and in some + cases, of which prize causes are an example, might be essential to + the preservation of the public peace. It is therefore necessary + that the appellate jurisdiction should, in certain cases, extend in + the broadest sense to matters of fact. It will not answer to make + an express exception of cases which shall have been originally tried + by a jury, because in the courts of some of the States ALL CAUSES + are tried in this mode4; and such an exception would preclude + the revision of matters of fact, as well where it might be proper, + as where it might be improper. To avoid all inconveniencies, it + will be safest to declare generally, that the Supreme Court shall + possess appellate jurisdiction both as to law and FACT, and that + this jurisdiction shall be subject to such EXCEPTIONS and + regulations as the national legislature may prescribe. This will + enable the government to modify it in such a manner as will best + answer the ends of public justice and security. +This view of the matter, at any rate, puts it out of all doubt + that the supposed ABOLITION of the trial by jury, by the operation + of this provision, is fallacious and untrue. The legislature of the + United States would certainly have full power to provide, that in + appeals to the Supreme Court there should be no re-examination of + facts where they had been tried in the original causes by juries. + This would certainly be an authorized exception; but if, for the + reason already intimated, it should be thought too extensive, it + might be qualified with a limitation to such causes only as are + determinable at common law in that mode of trial. +The amount of the observations hitherto made on the authority of + the judicial department is this: that it has been carefully + restricted to those causes which are manifestly proper for the + cognizance of the national judicature; that in the partition of + this authority a very small portion of original jurisdiction has + been preserved to the Supreme Court, and the rest consigned to the + subordinate tribunals; that the Supreme Court will possess an + appellate jurisdiction, both as to law and fact, in all the cases + referred to them, both subject to any EXCEPTIONS and REGULATIONS + which may be thought advisable; that this appellate jurisdiction + does, in no case, ABOLISH the trial by jury; and that an ordinary + degree of prudence and integrity in the national councils will + insure us solid advantages from the establishment of the proposed + judiciary, without exposing us to any of the inconveniences which + have been predicted from that source. +PUBLIUS. +1 Article 3, sec. I. +2 This power has been absurdly represented as intended to + abolish all the county courts in the several States, which are + commonly called inferior courts. But the expressions of the + Constitution are, to constitute ``tribunals INFERIOR TO THE SUPREME + COURT''; and the evident design of the provision is to enable the + institution of local courts, subordinate to the Supreme, either in + States or larger districts. It is ridiculous to imagine that county + courts were in contemplation. +3 This word is composed of JUS and DICTIO, juris dictio or a + speaking and pronouncing of the law. +4 I hold that the States will have concurrent jurisdiction with + the subordinate federal judicatories, in many cases of federal + cognizance, as will be explained in my next paper. + + +FEDERALIST No. 82 + +The Judiciary Continued +From McLEAN's Edition, New York. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE erection of a new government, whatever care or wisdom may + distinguish the work, cannot fail to originate questions of + intricacy and nicety; and these may, in a particular manner, be + expected to flow from the establishment of a constitution founded + upon the total or partial incorporation of a number of distinct + sovereignties. 'T is time only that can mature and perfect so + compound a system, can liquidate the meaning of all the parts, and + can adjust them to each other in a harmonious and consistent WHOLE. +Such questions, accordingly, have arisen upon the plan proposed + by the convention, and particularly concerning the judiciary + department. The principal of these respect the situation of the + State courts in regard to those causes which are to be submitted to + federal jurisdiction. Is this to be exclusive, or are those courts + to possess a concurrent jurisdiction? If the latter, in what + relation will they stand to the national tribunals? These are + inquiries which we meet with in the mouths of men of sense, and + which are certainly entitled to attention. +The principles established in a former paper1 teach us that + the States will retain all PRE-EXISTING authorities which may not be + exclusively delegated to the federal head; and that this exclusive + delegation can only exist in one of three cases: where an exclusive + authority is, in express terms, granted to the Union; or where a + particular authority is granted to the Union, and the exercise of a + like authority is prohibited to the States; or where an authority + is granted to the Union, with which a similar authority in the + States would be utterly incompatible. Though these principles may + not apply with the same force to the judiciary as to the legislative + power, yet I am inclined to think that they are, in the main, just + with respect to the former, as well as the latter. And under this + impression, I shall lay it down as a rule, that the State courts + will RETAIN the jurisdiction they now have, unless it appears to be + taken away in one of the enumerated modes. +The only thing in the proposed Constitution, which wears the + appearance of confining the causes of federal cognizance to the + federal courts, is contained in this passage: ``The JUDICIAL POWER + of the United States SHALL BE VESTED in one Supreme Court, and in + SUCH inferior courts as the Congress shall from time to time ordain + and establish.'' This might either be construed to signify, that + the supreme and subordinate courts of the Union should alone have + the power of deciding those causes to which their authority is to + extend; or simply to denote, that the organs of the national + judiciary should be one Supreme Court, and as many subordinate + courts as Congress should think proper to appoint; or in other + words, that the United States should exercise the judicial power + with which they are to be invested, through one supreme tribunal, + and a certain number of inferior ones, to be instituted by them. + The first excludes, the last admits, the concurrent jurisdiction of + the State tribunals; and as the first would amount to an alienation + of State power by implication, the last appears to me the most + natural and the most defensible construction. +But this doctrine of concurrent jurisdiction is only clearly + applicable to those descriptions of causes of which the State courts + have previous cognizance. It is not equally evident in relation to + cases which may grow out of, and be PECULIAR to, the Constitution to + be established; for not to allow the State courts a right of + jurisdiction in such cases, can hardly be considered as the + abridgment of a pre-existing authority. I mean not therefore to + contend that the United States, in the course of legislation upon + the objects intrusted to their direction, may not commit the + decision of causes arising upon a particular regulation to the + federal courts solely, if such a measure should be deemed expedient; + but I hold that the State courts will be divested of no part of + their primitive jurisdiction, further than may relate to an appeal; + and I am even of opinion that in every case in which they were not + expressly excluded by the future acts of the national legislature, + they will of course take cognizance of the causes to which those + acts may give birth. This I infer from the nature of judiciary + power, and from the general genius of the system. The judiciary + power of every government looks beyond its own local or municipal + laws, and in civil cases lays hold of all subjects of litigation + between parties within its jurisdiction, though the causes of + dispute are relative to the laws of the most distant part of the + globe. Those of Japan, not less than of New York, may furnish the + objects of legal discussion to our courts. When in addition to this + we consider the State governments and the national governments, as + they truly are, in the light of kindred systems, and as parts of ONE + WHOLE, the inference seems to be conclusive, that the State courts + would have a concurrent jurisdiction in all cases arising under the + laws of the Union, where it was not expressly prohibited. +Here another question occurs: What relation would subsist + between the national and State courts in these instances of + concurrent jurisdiction? I answer, that an appeal would certainly + lie from the latter, to the Supreme Court of the United States. The + Constitution in direct terms gives an appellate jurisdiction to the + Supreme Court in all the enumerated cases of federal cognizance in + which it is not to have an original one, without a single expression + to confine its operation to the inferior federal courts. The + objects of appeal, not the tribunals from which it is to be made, + are alone contemplated. From this circumstance, and from the reason + of the thing, it ought to be construed to extend to the State + tribunals. Either this must be the case, or the local courts must + be excluded from a concurrent jurisdiction in matters of national + concern, else the judiciary authority of the Union may be eluded at + the pleasure of every plaintiff or prosecutor. Neither of these + consequences ought, without evident necessity, to be involved; the + latter would be entirely inadmissible, as it would defeat some of + the most important and avowed purposes of the proposed government, + and would essentially embarrass its measures. Nor do I perceive any + foundation for such a supposition. Agreeably to the remark already + made, the national and State systems are to be regarded as ONE WHOLE. + The courts of the latter will of course be natural auxiliaries to + the execution of the laws of the Union, and an appeal from them will + as naturally lie to that tribunal which is destined to unite and + assimilate the principles of national justice and the rules of + national decisions. The evident aim of the plan of the convention + is, that all the causes of the specified classes shall, for weighty + public reasons, receive their original or final determination in the + courts of the Union. To confine, therefore, the general expressions + giving appellate jurisdiction to the Supreme Court, to appeals from + the subordinate federal courts, instead of allowing their extension + to the State courts, would be to abridge the latitude of the terms, + in subversion of the intent, contrary to every sound rule of + interpretation. +But could an appeal be made to lie from the State courts to the + subordinate federal judicatories? This is another of the questions + which have been raised, and of greater difficulty than the former. + The following considerations countenance the affirmative. The plan + of the convention, in the first place, authorizes the national + legislature ``to constitute tribunals inferior to the Supreme + Court.''2 It declares, in the next place, that ``the JUDICIAL + POWER of the United States SHALL BE VESTED in one Supreme Court, and + in such inferior courts as Congress shall ordain and establish''; + and it then proceeds to enumerate the cases to which this judicial + power shall extend. It afterwards divides the jurisdiction of the + Supreme Court into original and appellate, but gives no definition + of that of the subordinate courts. The only outlines described for + them, are that they shall be ``inferior to the Supreme Court,'' and + that they shall not exceed the specified limits of the federal + judiciary. Whether their authority shall be original or appellate, + or both, is not declared. All this seems to be left to the + discretion of the legislature. And this being the case, I perceive + at present no impediment to the establishment of an appeal from the + State courts to the subordinate national tribunals; and many + advantages attending the power of doing it may be imagined. It + would diminish the motives to the multiplication of federal courts, + and would admit of arrangements calculated to contract the appellate + jurisdiction of the Supreme Court. The State tribunals may then be + left with a more entire charge of federal causes; and appeals, in + most cases in which they may be deemed proper, instead of being + carried to the Supreme Court, may be made to lie from the State + courts to district courts of the Union. +PUBLIUS. +1 No. 31. +2 Sec. 8th art. 1st. + + +FEDERALIST No. 83 + +The Judiciary Continued in Relation to Trial by Jury +From MCLEAN's Edition, New York. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +THE objection to the plan of the convention, which has met with + most success in this State, and perhaps in several of the other + States, is THAT RELATIVE TO THE WANT OF A CONSTITUTIONAL PROVISION + for the trial by jury in civil cases. The disingenuous form in + which this objection is usually stated has been repeatedly adverted + to and exposed, but continues to be pursued in all the conversations + and writings of the opponents of the plan. The mere silence of the + Constitution in regard to CIVIL CAUSES, is represented as an + abolition of the trial by jury, and the declamations to which it has + afforded a pretext are artfully calculated to induce a persuasion + that this pretended abolition is complete and universal, extending + not only to every species of civil, but even to CRIMINAL CAUSES. To + argue with respect to the latter would, however, be as vain and + fruitless as to attempt the serious proof of the EXISTENCE of + MATTER, or to demonstrate any of those propositions which, by their + own internal evidence, force conviction, when expressed in language + adapted to convey their meaning. +With regard to civil causes, subtleties almost too contemptible + for refutation have been employed to countenance the surmise that a + thing which is only NOT PROVIDED FOR, is entirely ABOLISHED. Every + man of discernment must at once perceive the wide difference between + SILENCE and ABOLITION. But as the inventors of this fallacy have + attempted to support it by certain LEGAL MAXIMS of interpretation, + which they have perverted from their true meaning, it may not be + wholly useless to explore the ground they have taken. +The maxims on which they rely are of this nature: ``A + specification of particulars is an exclusion of generals''; or, + ``The expression of one thing is the exclusion of another.'' Hence, + say they, as the Constitution has established the trial by jury in + criminal cases, and is silent in respect to civil, this silence is + an implied prohibition of trial by jury in regard to the latter. +The rules of legal interpretation are rules of COMMONSENSE, + adopted by the courts in the construction of the laws. The true + test, therefore, of a just application of them is its conformity to + the source from which they are derived. This being the case, let me + ask if it is consistent with common-sense to suppose that a + provision obliging the legislative power to commit the trial of + criminal causes to juries, is a privation of its right to authorize + or permit that mode of trial in other cases? Is it natural to + suppose, that a command to do one thing is a prohibition to the + doing of another, which there was a previous power to do, and which + is not incompatible with the thing commanded to be done? If such a + supposition would be unnatural and unreasonable, it cannot be + rational to maintain that an injunction of the trial by jury in + certain cases is an interdiction of it in others. +A power to constitute courts is a power to prescribe the mode of + trial; and consequently, if nothing was said in the Constitution on + the subject of juries, the legislature would be at liberty either to + adopt that institution or to let it alone. This discretion, in + regard to criminal causes, is abridged by the express injunction of + trial by jury in all such cases; but it is, of course, left at + large in relation to civil causes, there being a total silence on + this head. The specification of an obligation to try all criminal + causes in a particular mode, excludes indeed the obligation or + necessity of employing the same mode in civil causes, but does not + abridge THE POWER of the legislature to exercise that mode if it + should be thought proper. The pretense, therefore, that the + national legislature would not be at full liberty to submit all the + civil causes of federal cognizance to the determination of juries, + is a pretense destitute of all just foundation. +From these observations this conclusion results: that the trial + by jury in civil cases would not be abolished; and that the use + attempted to be made of the maxims which have been quoted, is + contrary to reason and common-sense, and therefore not admissible. + Even if these maxims had a precise technical sense, corresponding + with the idea of those who employ them upon the present occasion, + which, however, is not the case, they would still be inapplicable to + a constitution of government. In relation to such a subject, the + natural and obvious sense of its provisions, apart from any + technical rules, is the true criterion of construction. +Having now seen that the maxims relied upon will not bear the + use made of them, let us endeavor to ascertain their proper use and + true meaning. This will be best done by examples. The plan of the + convention declares that the power of Congress, or, in other words, + of the NATIONAL LEGISLATURE, shall extend to certain enumerated + cases. This specification of particulars evidently excludes all + pretension to a general legislative authority, because an + affirmative grant of special powers would be absurd, as well as + useless, if a general authority was intended. +In like manner the judicial authority of the federal judicatures + is declared by the Constitution to comprehend certain cases + particularly specified. The expression of those cases marks the + precise limits, beyond which the federal courts cannot extend their + jurisdiction, because the objects of their cognizance being + enumerated, the specification would be nugatory if it did not + exclude all ideas of more extensive authority. +These examples are sufficient to elucidate the maxims which have + been mentioned, and to designate the manner in which they should be + used. But that there may be no misapprehensions upon this subject, + I shall add one case more, to demonstrate the proper use of these + maxims, and the abuse which has been made of them. +Let us suppose that by the laws of this State a married woman + was incapable of conveying her estate, and that the legislature, + considering this as an evil, should enact that she might dispose of + her property by deed executed in the presence of a magistrate. In + such a case there can be no doubt but the specification would amount + to an exclusion of any other mode of conveyance, because the woman + having no previous power to alienate her property, the specification + determines the particular mode which she is, for that purpose, to + avail herself of. But let us further suppose that in a subsequent + part of the same act it should be declared that no woman should + dispose of any estate of a determinate value without the consent of + three of her nearest relations, signified by their signing the deed; + could it be inferred from this regulation that a married woman + might not procure the approbation of her relations to a deed for + conveying property of inferior value? The position is too absurd to + merit a refutation, and yet this is precisely the position which + those must establish who contend that the trial by juries in civil + cases is abolished, because it is expressly provided for in cases of + a criminal nature. +From these observations it must appear unquestionably true, that + trial by jury is in no case abolished by the proposed Constitution, + and it is equally true, that in those controversies between + individuals in which the great body of the people are likely to be + interested, that institution will remain precisely in the same + situation in which it is placed by the State constitutions, and will + be in no degree altered or influenced by the adoption of the plan + under consideration. The foundation of this assertion is, that the + national judiciary will have no cognizance of them, and of course + they will remain determinable as heretofore by the State courts + only, and in the manner which the State constitutions and laws + prescribe. All land causes, except where claims under the grants of + different States come into question, and all other controversies + between the citizens of the same State, unless where they depend + upon positive violations of the articles of union, by acts of the + State legislatures, will belong exclusively to the jurisdiction of + the State tribunals. Add to this, that admiralty causes, and almost + all those which are of equity jurisdiction, are determinable under + our own government without the intervention of a jury, and the + inference from the whole will be, that this institution, as it + exists with us at present, cannot possibly be affected to any great + extent by the proposed alteration in our system of government. +The friends and adversaries of the plan of the convention, if + they agree in nothing else, concur at least in the value they set + upon the trial by jury; or if there is any difference between them + it consists in this: the former regard it as a valuable safeguard + to liberty; the latter represent it as the very palladium of free + government. For my own part, the more the operation of the + institution has fallen under my observation, the more reason I have + discovered for holding it in high estimation; and it would be + altogether superfluous to examine to what extent it deserves to be + esteemed useful or essential in a representative republic, or how + much more merit it may be entitled to, as a defense against the + oppressions of an hereditary monarch, than as a barrier to the + tyranny of popular magistrates in a popular government. Discussions + of this kind would be more curious than beneficial, as all are + satisfied of the utility of the institution, and of its friendly + aspect to liberty. But I must acknowledge that I cannot readily + discern the inseparable connection between the existence of liberty, + and the trial by jury in civil cases. Arbitrary impeachments, + arbitrary methods of prosecuting pretended offenses, and arbitrary + punishments upon arbitrary convictions, have ever appeared to me to + be the great engines of judicial despotism; and these have all + relation to criminal proceedings. The trial by jury in criminal + cases, aided by the habeas-corpus act, seems therefore to be + alone concerned in the question. And both of these are provided + for, in the most ample manner, in the plan of the convention. +It has been observed, that trial by jury is a safeguard against + an oppressive exercise of the power of taxation. This observation + deserves to be canvassed. +It is evident that it can have no influence upon the + legislature, in regard to the AMOUNT of taxes to be laid, to the + OBJECTS upon which they are to be imposed, or to the RULE by which + they are to be apportioned. If it can have any influence, + therefore, it must be upon the mode of collection, and the conduct + of the officers intrusted with the execution of the revenue laws. +As to the mode of collection in this State, under our own + Constitution, the trial by jury is in most cases out of use. The + taxes are usually levied by the more summary proceeding of distress + and sale, as in cases of rent. And it is acknowledged on all hands, + that this is essential to the efficacy of the revenue laws. The + dilatory course of a trial at law to recover the taxes imposed on + individuals, would neither suit the exigencies of the public nor + promote the convenience of the citizens. It would often occasion an + accumulation of costs, more burdensome than the original sum of the + tax to be levied. +And as to the conduct of the officers of the revenue, the + provision in favor of trial by jury in criminal cases, will afford + the security aimed at. Wilful abuses of a public authority, to the + oppression of the subject, and every species of official extortion, + are offenses against the government, for which the persons who + commit them may be indicted and punished according to the + circumstances of the case. +The excellence of the trial by jury in civil cases appears to + depend on circumstances foreign to the preservation of liberty. The + strongest argument in its favor is, that it is a security against + corruption. As there is always more time and better opportunity to + tamper with a standing body of magistrates than with a jury summoned + for the occasion, there is room to suppose that a corrupt influence + would more easily find its way to the former than to the latter. + The force of this consideration is, however, diminished by others. + The sheriff, who is the summoner of ordinary juries, and the clerks + of courts, who have the nomination of special juries, are themselves + standing officers, and, acting individually, may be supposed more + accessible to the touch of corruption than the judges, who are a + collective body. It is not difficult to see, that it would be in + the power of those officers to select jurors who would serve the + purpose of the party as well as a corrupted bench. In the next + place, it may fairly be supposed, that there would be less + difficulty in gaining some of the jurors promiscuously taken from + the public mass, than in gaining men who had been chosen by the + government for their probity and good character. But making every + deduction for these considerations, the trial by jury must still be + a valuable check upon corruption. It greatly multiplies the + impediments to its success. As matters now stand, it would be + necessary to corrupt both court and jury; for where the jury have + gone evidently wrong, the court will generally grant a new trial, + and it would be in most cases of little use to practice upon the + jury, unless the court could be likewise gained. Here then is a + double security; and it will readily be perceived that this + complicated agency tends to preserve the purity of both institutions. + By increasing the obstacles to success, it discourages attempts to + seduce the integrity of either. The temptations to prostitution + which the judges might have to surmount, must certainly be much + fewer, while the co-operation of a jury is necessary, than they + might be, if they had themselves the exclusive determination of all + causes. +Notwithstanding, therefore, the doubts I have expressed, as to + the essentiality of trial by jury in civil cases to liberty, I admit + that it is in most cases, under proper regulations, an excellent + method of determining questions of property; and that on this + account alone it would be entitled to a constitutional provision in + its favor if it were possible to fix the limits within which it + ought to be comprehended. There is, however, in all cases, great + difficulty in this; and men not blinded by enthusiasm must be + sensible that in a federal government, which is a composition of + societies whose ideas and institutions in relation to the matter + materially vary from each other, that difficulty must be not a + little augmented. For my own part, at every new view I take of the + subject, I become more convinced of the reality of the obstacles + which, we are authoritatively informed, prevented the insertion of a + provision on this head in the plan of the convention. +The great difference between the limits of the jury trial in + different States is not generally understood; and as it must have + considerable influence on the sentence we ought to pass upon the + omission complained of in regard to this point, an explanation of it + is necessary. In this State, our judicial establishments resemble, + more nearly than in any other, those of Great Britain. We have + courts of common law, courts of probates (analogous in certain + matters to the spiritual courts in England), a court of admiralty + and a court of chancery. In the courts of common law only, the + trial by jury prevails, and this with some exceptions. In all the + others a single judge presides, and proceeds in general either + according to the course of the canon or civil law, without the aid + of a jury.1 In New Jersey, there is a court of chancery which + proceeds like ours, but neither courts of admiralty nor of probates, + in the sense in which these last are established with us. In that + State the courts of common law have the cognizance of those causes + which with us are determinable in the courts of admiralty and of + probates, and of course the jury trial is more extensive in New + Jersey than in New York. In Pennsylvania, this is perhaps still + more the case, for there is no court of chancery in that State, and + its common-law courts have equity jurisdiction. It has a court of + admiralty, but none of probates, at least on the plan of ours. + Delaware has in these respects imitated Pennsylvania. Maryland + approaches more nearly to New York, as does also Virginia, except + that the latter has a plurality of chancellors. North Carolina + bears most affinity to Pennsylvania; South Carolina to Virginia. I + believe, however, that in some of those States which have distinct + courts of admiralty, the causes depending in them are triable by + juries. In Georgia there are none but common-law courts, and an + appeal of course lies from the verdict of one jury to another, which + is called a special jury, and for which a particular mode of + appointment is marked out. In Connecticut, they have no distinct + courts either of chancery or of admiralty, and their courts of + probates have no jurisdiction of causes. Their common-law courts + have admiralty and, to a certain extent, equity jurisdiction. In + cases of importance, their General Assembly is the only court of + chancery. In Connecticut, therefore, the trial by jury extends in + PRACTICE further than in any other State yet mentioned. Rhode + Island is, I believe, in this particular, pretty much in the + situation of Connecticut. Massachusetts and New Hampshire, in + regard to the blending of law, equity, and admiralty jurisdictions, + are in a similar predicament. In the four Eastern States, the trial + by jury not only stands upon a broader foundation than in the other + States, but it is attended with a peculiarity unknown, in its full + extent, to any of them. There is an appeal OF COURSE from one jury + to another, till there have been two verdicts out of three on one + side. +From this sketch it appears that there is a material diversity, + as well in the modification as in the extent of the institution of + trial by jury in civil cases, in the several States; and from this + fact these obvious reflections flow: first, that no general rule + could have been fixed upon by the convention which would have + corresponded with the circumstances of all the States; and + secondly, that more or at least as much might have been hazarded by + taking the system of any one State for a standard, as by omitting a + provision altogether and leaving the matter, as has been done, to + legislative regulation. +The propositions which have been made for supplying the omission + have rather served to illustrate than to obviate the difficulty of + the thing. The minority of Pennsylvania have proposed this mode of + expression for the purpose ``Trial by jury shall be as + heretofore'' and this I maintain would be senseless and nugatory. + The United States, in their united or collective capacity, are the + OBJECT to which all general provisions in the Constitution must + necessarily be construed to refer. Now it is evident that though + trial by jury, with various limitations, is known in each State + individually, yet in the United States, AS SUCH, it is at this time + altogether unknown, because the present federal government has no + judiciary power whatever; and consequently there is no proper + antecedent or previous establishment to which the term HERETOFORE + could relate. It would therefore be destitute of a precise meaning, + and inoperative from its uncertainty. +As, on the one hand, the form of the provision would not fulfil + the intent of its proposers, so, on the other, if I apprehend that + intent rightly, it would be in itself inexpedient. I presume it to + be, that causes in the federal courts should be tried by jury, if, + in the State where the courts sat, that mode of trial would obtain + in a similar case in the State courts; that is to say, admiralty + causes should be tried in Connecticut by a jury, in New York without + one. The capricious operation of so dissimilar a method of trial in + the same cases, under the same government, is of itself sufficient + to indispose every wellregulated judgment towards it. Whether the + cause should be tried with or without a jury, would depend, in a + great number of cases, on the accidental situation of the court and + parties. +But this is not, in my estimation, the greatest objection. I + feel a deep and deliberate conviction that there are many cases in + which the trial by jury is an ineligible one. I think it so + particularly in cases which concern the public peace with foreign + nations that is, in most cases where the question turns wholly on + the laws of nations. Of this nature, among others, are all prize + causes. Juries cannot be supposed competent to investigations that + require a thorough knowledge of the laws and usages of nations; and + they will sometimes be under the influence of impressions which will + not suffer them to pay sufficient regard to those considerations of + public policy which ought to guide their inquiries. There would of + course be always danger that the rights of other nations might be + infringed by their decisions, so as to afford occasions of reprisal + and war. Though the proper province of juries be to determine + matters of fact, yet in most cases legal consequences are + complicated with fact in such a manner as to render a separation + impracticable. +It will add great weight to this remark, in relation to prize + causes, to mention that the method of determining them has been + thought worthy of particular regulation in various treaties between + different powers of Europe, and that, pursuant to such treaties, + they are determinable in Great Britain, in the last resort, before + the king himself, in his privy council, where the fact, as well as + the law, undergoes a re-examination. This alone demonstrates the + impolicy of inserting a fundamental provision in the Constitution + which would make the State systems a standard for the national + government in the article under consideration, and the danger of + encumbering the government with any constitutional provisions the + propriety of which is not indisputable. +My convictions are equally strong that great advantages result + from the separation of the equity from the law jurisdiction, and + that the causes which belong to the former would be improperly + committed to juries. The great and primary use of a court of equity + is to give relief IN EXTRAORDINARY CASES, which are EXCEPTIONS2 + to general rules. To unite the jurisdiction of such cases with the + ordinary jurisdiction, must have a tendency to unsettle the general + rules, and to subject every case that arises to a SPECIAL + determination; while a separation of the one from the other has the + contrary effect of rendering one a sentinel over the other, and of + keeping each within the expedient limits. Besides this, the + circumstances that constitute cases proper for courts of equity are + in many instances so nice and intricate, that they are incompatible + with the genius of trials by jury. They require often such long, + deliberate, and critical investigation as would be impracticable to + men called from their occupations, and obliged to decide before they + were permitted to return to them. The simplicity and expedition + which form the distinguishing characters of this mode of trial + require that the matter to be decided should be reduced to some + single and obvious point; while the litigations usual in chancery + frequently comprehend a long train of minute and independent + particulars. +It is true that the separation of the equity from the legal + jurisdiction is peculiar to the English system of jurisprudence: + which is the model that has been followed in several of the States. + But it is equally true that the trial by jury has been unknown in + every case in which they have been united. And the separation is + essential to the preservation of that institution in its pristine + purity. The nature of a court of equity will readily permit the + extension of its jurisdiction to matters of law; but it is not a + little to be suspected, that the attempt to extend the jurisdiction + of the courts of law to matters of equity will not only be + unproductive of the advantages which may be derived from courts of + chancery, on the plan upon which they are established in this State, + but will tend gradually to change the nature of the courts of law, + and to undermine the trial by jury, by introducing questions too + complicated for a decision in that mode. +These appeared to be conclusive reasons against incorporating + the systems of all the States, in the formation of the national + judiciary, according to what may be conjectured to have been the + attempt of the Pennsylvania minority. Let us now examine how far + the proposition of Massachusetts is calculated to remedy the + supposed defect. +It is in this form: ``In civil actions between citizens of + different States, every issue of fact, arising in ACTIONS AT COMMON + LAW, may be tried by a jury if the parties, or either of them + request it.'' +This, at best, is a proposition confined to one description of + causes; and the inference is fair, either that the Massachusetts + convention considered that as the only class of federal causes, in + which the trial by jury would be proper; or that if desirous of a + more extensive provision, they found it impracticable to devise one + which would properly answer the end. If the first, the omission of + a regulation respecting so partial an object can never be considered + as a material imperfection in the system. If the last, it affords a + strong corroboration of the extreme difficulty of the thing. +But this is not all: if we advert to the observations already + made respecting the courts that subsist in the several States of the + Union, and the different powers exercised by them, it will appear + that there are no expressions more vague and indeterminate than + those which have been employed to characterize THAT species of + causes which it is intended shall be entitled to a trial by jury. + In this State, the boundaries between actions at common law and + actions of equitable jurisdiction, are ascertained in conformity to + the rules which prevail in England upon that subject. In many of + the other States the boundaries are less precise. In some of them + every cause is to be tried in a court of common law, and upon that + foundation every action may be considered as an action at common + law, to be determined by a jury, if the parties, or either of them, + choose it. Hence the same irregularity and confusion would be + introduced by a compliance with this proposition, that I have + already noticed as resulting from the regulation proposed by the + Pennsylvania minority. In one State a cause would receive its + determination from a jury, if the parties, or either of them, + requested it; but in another State, a cause exactly similar to the + other, must be decided without the intervention of a jury, because + the State judicatories varied as to common-law jurisdiction. +It is obvious, therefore, that the Massachusetts proposition, + upon this subject cannot operate as a general regulation, until some + uniform plan, with respect to the limits of common-law and equitable + jurisdictions, shall be adopted by the different States. To devise + a plan of that kind is a task arduous in itself, and which it would + require much time and reflection to mature. It would be extremely + difficult, if not impossible, to suggest any general regulation that + would be acceptable to all the States in the Union, or that would + perfectly quadrate with the several State institutions. +It may be asked, Why could not a reference have been made to the + constitution of this State, taking that, which is allowed by me to + be a good one, as a standard for the United States? I answer that + it is not very probable the other States would entertain the same + opinion of our institutions as we do ourselves. It is natural to + suppose that they are hitherto more attached to their own, and that + each would struggle for the preference. If the plan of taking one + State as a model for the whole had been thought of in the + convention, it is to be presumed that the adoption of it in that + body would have been rendered difficult by the predilection of each + representation in favor of its own government; and it must be + uncertain which of the States would have been taken as the model. + It has been shown that many of them would be improper ones. And I + leave it to conjecture, whether, under all circumstances, it is most + likely that New York, or some other State, would have been preferred. + But admit that a judicious selection could have been effected in + the convention, still there would have been great danger of jealousy + and disgust in the other States, at the partiality which had been + shown to the institutions of one. The enemies of the plan would + have been furnished with a fine pretext for raising a host of local + prejudices against it, which perhaps might have hazarded, in no + inconsiderable degree, its final establishment. +To avoid the embarrassments of a definition of the cases which + the trial by jury ought to embrace, it is sometimes suggested by men + of enthusiastic tempers, that a provision might have been inserted + for establishing it in all cases whatsoever. For this I believe, no + precedent is to be found in any member of the Union; and the + considerations which have been stated in discussing the proposition + of the minority of Pennsylvania, must satisfy every sober mind that + the establishment of the trial by jury in ALL cases would have been + an unpardonable error in the plan. +In short, the more it is considered the more arduous will appear + the task of fashioning a provision in such a form as not to express + too little to answer the purpose, or too much to be advisable; or + which might not have opened other sources of opposition to the great + and essential object of introducing a firm national government. +I cannot but persuade myself, on the other hand, that the + different lights in which the subject has been placed in the course + of these observations, will go far towards removing in candid minds + the apprehensions they may have entertained on the point. They have + tended to show that the security of liberty is materially concerned + only in the trial by jury in criminal cases, which is provided for + in the most ample manner in the plan of the convention; that even + in far the greatest proportion of civil cases, and those in which + the great body of the community is interested, that mode of trial + will remain in its full force, as established in the State + constitutions, untouched and unaffected by the plan of the + convention; that it is in no case abolished3 by that plan; and + that there are great if not insurmountable difficulties in the way + of making any precise and proper provision for it in a Constitution + for the United States. +The best judges of the matter will be the least anxious for a + constitutional establishment of the trial by jury in civil cases, + and will be the most ready to admit that the changes which are + continually happening in the affairs of society may render a + different mode of determining questions of property preferable in + many cases in which that mode of trial now prevails. For my part, I + acknowledge myself to be convinced that even in this State it might + be advantageously extended to some cases to which it does not at + present apply, and might as advantageously be abridged in others. + It is conceded by all reasonable men that it ought not to obtain in + all cases. The examples of innovations which contract its ancient + limits, as well in these States as in Great Britain, afford a strong + presumption that its former extent has been found inconvenient, and + give room to suppose that future experience may discover the + propriety and utility of other exceptions. I suspect it to be + impossible in the nature of the thing to fix the salutary point at + which the operation of the institution ought to stop, and this is + with me a strong argument for leaving the matter to the discretion + of the legislature. +This is now clearly understood to be the case in Great Britain, + and it is equally so in the State of Connecticut; and yet it may be + safely affirmed that more numerous encroachments have been made upon + the trial by jury in this State since the Revolution, though + provided for by a positive article of our constitution, than has + happened in the same time either in Connecticut or Great Britain. + It may be added that these encroachments have generally originated + with the men who endeavor to persuade the people they are the + warmest defenders of popular liberty, but who have rarely suffered + constitutional obstacles to arrest them in a favorite career. The + truth is that the general GENIUS of a government is all that can be + substantially relied upon for permanent effects. Particular + provisions, though not altogether useless, have far less virtue and + efficacy than are commonly ascribed to them; and the want of them + will never be, with men of sound discernment, a decisive objection + to any plan which exhibits the leading characters of a good + government. +It certainly sounds not a little harsh and extraordinary to + affirm that there is no security for liberty in a Constitution which + expressly establishes the trial by jury in criminal cases, because + it does not do it in civil also; while it is a notorious fact that + Connecticut, which has been always regarded as the most popular + State in the Union, can boast of no constitutional provision for + either. +PUBLIUS. +1 It has been erroneously insinuated, with regard to the court + of chancery, that this court generally tries disputed facts by a + jury. The truth is, that references to a jury in that court rarely + happen, and are in no case necessary but where the validity of a + devise of land comes into question. +2 It is true that the principles by which that relief is + governed are now reduced to a regular system; but it is not the + less true that they are in the main applicable to SPECIAL + circumstances, which form exceptions to general rules. +3 Vide No. 81, in which the supposition of its being + abolished by the appellate jurisdiction in matters of fact being + vested in the Supreme Court, is examined and refuted. + + +FEDERALIST No. 84 + +Certain General and Miscellaneous Objections to the Constitution + Considered and Answered +From McLEAN's Edition, New York. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +IN THE course of the foregoing review of the Constitution, I + have taken notice of, and endeavored to answer most of the + objections which have appeared against it. There, however, remain a + few which either did not fall naturally under any particular head or + were forgotten in their proper places. These shall now be + discussed; but as the subject has been drawn into great length, I + shall so far consult brevity as to comprise all my observations on + these miscellaneous points in a single paper. +The most considerable of the remaining objections is that the + plan of the convention contains no bill of rights. Among other + answers given to this, it has been upon different occasions remarked + that the constitutions of several of the States are in a similar + predicament. I add that New York is of the number. And yet the + opposers of the new system, in this State, who profess an unlimited + admiration for its constitution, are among the most intemperate + partisans of a bill of rights. To justify their zeal in this + matter, they allege two things: one is that, though the + constitution of New York has no bill of rights prefixed to it, yet + it contains, in the body of it, various provisions in favor of + particular privileges and rights, which, in substance amount to the + same thing; the other is, that the Constitution adopts, in their + full extent, the common and statute law of Great Britain, by which + many other rights, not expressed in it, are equally secured. +To the first I answer, that the Constitution proposed by the + convention contains, as well as the constitution of this State, a + number of such provisions. +Independent of those which relate to the structure of the + government, we find the following: Article 1, section 3, clause 7 + ``Judgment in cases of impeachment shall not extend further than to + removal from office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any + office of honor, trust, or profit under the United States; but the + party convicted shall, nevertheless, be liable and subject to + indictment, trial, judgment, and punishment according to law.'' + Section 9, of the same article, clause 2 ``The privilege of the + writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in + cases of rebellion or invasion the public safety may require it.'' + Clause 3 ``No bill of attainder or ex-post-facto law shall be + passed.'' Clause 7 ``No title of nobility shall be granted by the + United States; and no person holding any office of profit or trust + under them, shall, without the consent of the Congress, accept of + any present, emolument, office, or title of any kind whatever, from + any king, prince, or foreign state.'' Article 3, section 2, clause + 3 ``The trial of all crimes, except in cases of impeachment, shall + be by jury; and such trial shall be held in the State where the + said crimes shall have been committed; but when not committed + within any State, the trial shall be at such place or places as the + Congress may by law have directed.'' Section 3, of the same + article ``Treason against the United States shall consist only in + levying war against them, or in adhering to their enemies, giving + them aid and comfort. No person shall be convicted of treason, + unless on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act, or + on confession in open court.'' And clause 3, of the same + section ``The Congress shall have power to declare the punishment of + treason; but no attainder of treason shall work corruption of + blood, or forfeiture, except during the life of the person attainted.'' + It may well be a question, whether these are not, upon the + whole, of equal importance with any which are to be found in the + constitution of this State. The establishment of the writ of + habeas corpus, the prohibition of ex-post-facto laws, and of + TITLES OF NOBILITY, TO WHICH WE HAVE NO CORRESPONDING PROVISION IN + OUR CONSTITUTION, are perhaps greater securities to liberty and + republicanism than any it contains. The creation of crimes after + the commission of the fact, or, in other words, the subjecting of + men to punishment for things which, when they were done, were + breaches of no law, and the practice of arbitrary imprisonments, + have been, in all ages, the favorite and most formidable instruments + of tyranny. The observations of the judicious Blackstone,1 in + reference to the latter, are well worthy of recital: ``To bereave a + man of life, Usays he,e or by violence to confiscate his estate, + without accusation or trial, would be so gross and notorious an act + of despotism, as must at once convey the alarm of tyranny throughout + the whole nation; but confinement of the person, by secretly + hurrying him to jail, where his sufferings are unknown or forgotten, + is a less public, a less striking, and therefore A MORE DANGEROUS + ENGINE of arbitrary government.'' And as a remedy for this fatal + evil he is everywhere peculiarly emphatical in his encomiums on the + habeas-corpus act, which in one place he calls ``the BULWARK of + the British Constitution.''2 +Nothing need be said to illustrate the importance of the + prohibition of titles of nobility. This may truly be denominated + the corner-stone of republican government; for so long as they are + excluded, there can never be serious danger that the government will + be any other than that of the people. +To the second that is, to the pretended establishment of the + common and state law by the Constitution, I answer, that they are + expressly made subject ``to such alterations and provisions as the + legislature shall from time to time make concerning the same.'' + They are therefore at any moment liable to repeal by the ordinary + legislative power, and of course have no constitutional sanction. + The only use of the declaration was to recognize the ancient law + and to remove doubts which might have been occasioned by the + Revolution. This consequently can be considered as no part of a + declaration of rights, which under our constitutions must be + intended as limitations of the power of the government itself. +It has been several times truly remarked that bills of rights + are, in their origin, stipulations between kings and their subjects, + abridgements of prerogative in favor of privilege, reservations of + rights not surrendered to the prince. Such was MAGNA CHARTA, + obtained by the barons, sword in hand, from King John. Such were + the subsequent confirmations of that charter by succeeding princes. + Such was the PETITION OF RIGHT assented to by Charles I., in the + beginning of his reign. Such, also, was the Declaration of Right + presented by the Lords and Commons to the Prince of Orange in 1688, + and afterwards thrown into the form of an act of parliament called + the Bill of Rights. It is evident, therefore, that, according to + their primitive signification, they have no application to + constitutions professedly founded upon the power of the people, and + executed by their immediate representatives and servants. Here, in + strictness, the people surrender nothing; and as they retain every + thing they have no need of particular reservations. ``WE, THE + PEOPLE of the United States, to secure the blessings of liberty to + ourselves and our posterity, do ORDAIN and ESTABLISH this + Constitution for the United States of America.'' Here is a better + recognition of popular rights, than volumes of those aphorisms which + make the principal figure in several of our State bills of rights, + and which would sound much better in a treatise of ethics than in a + constitution of government. +But a minute detail of particular rights is certainly far less + applicable to a Constitution like that under consideration, which is + merely intended to regulate the general political interests of the + nation, than to a constitution which has the regulation of every + species of personal and private concerns. If, therefore, the loud + clamors against the plan of the convention, on this score, are well + founded, no epithets of reprobation will be too strong for the + constitution of this State. But the truth is, that both of them + contain all which, in relation to their objects, is reasonably to be + desired. +I go further, and affirm that bills of rights, in the sense and + to the extent in which they are contended for, are not only + unnecessary in the proposed Constitution, but would even be + dangerous. They would contain various exceptions to powers not + granted; and, on this very account, would afford a colorable + pretext to claim more than were granted. For why declare that + things shall not be done which there is no power to do? Why, for + instance, should it be said that the liberty of the press shall not + be restrained, when no power is given by which restrictions may be + imposed? I will not contend that such a provision would confer a + regulating power; but it is evident that it would furnish, to men + disposed to usurp, a plausible pretense for claiming that power. + They might urge with a semblance of reason, that the Constitution + ought not to be charged with the absurdity of providing against the + abuse of an authority which was not given, and that the provision + against restraining the liberty of the press afforded a clear + implication, that a power to prescribe proper regulations concerning + it was intended to be vested in the national government. This may + serve as a specimen of the numerous handles which would be given to + the doctrine of constructive powers, by the indulgence of an + injudicious zeal for bills of rights. +On the subject of the liberty of the press, as much as has been + said, I cannot forbear adding a remark or two: in the first place, + I observe, that there is not a syllable concerning it in the + constitution of this State; in the next, I contend, that whatever + has been said about it in that of any other State, amounts to + nothing. What signifies a declaration, that ``the liberty of the + press shall be inviolably preserved''? What is the liberty of the + press? Who can give it any definition which would not leave the + utmost latitude for evasion? I hold it to be impracticable; and + from this I infer, that its security, whatever fine declarations may + be inserted in any constitution respecting it, must altogether + depend on public opinion, and on the general spirit of the people + and of the government.3 And here, after all, as is intimated + upon another occasion, must we seek for the only solid basis of all + our rights. +There remains but one other view of this matter to conclude the + point. The truth is, after all the declamations we have heard, that + the Constitution is itself, in every rational sense, and to every + useful purpose, A BILL OF RIGHTS. The several bills of rights in + Great Britain form its Constitution, and conversely the constitution + of each State is its bill of rights. And the proposed Constitution, + if adopted, will be the bill of rights of the Union. Is it one + object of a bill of rights to declare and specify the political + privileges of the citizens in the structure and administration of + the government? This is done in the most ample and precise manner + in the plan of the convention; comprehending various precautions + for the public security, which are not to be found in any of the + State constitutions. Is another object of a bill of rights to + define certain immunities and modes of proceeding, which are + relative to personal and private concerns? This we have seen has + also been attended to, in a variety of cases, in the same plan. + Adverting therefore to the substantial meaning of a bill of rights, + it is absurd to allege that it is not to be found in the work of the + convention. It may be said that it does not go far enough, though + it will not be easy to make this appear; but it can with no + propriety be contended that there is no such thing. It certainly + must be immaterial what mode is observed as to the order of + declaring the rights of the citizens, if they are to be found in any + part of the instrument which establishes the government. And hence + it must be apparent, that much of what has been said on this subject + rests merely on verbal and nominal distinctions, entirely foreign + from the substance of the thing. +Another objection which has been made, and which, from the + frequency of its repetition, it is to be presumed is relied on, is + of this nature: ``It is improper,'' say the objectors, ``to confer such + large powers, as are proposed, upon the national government, because + the seat of that government must of necessity be too remote from + many of the States to admit of a proper knowledge on the part of the + constituent, of the conduct of the representative body.'' This + argument, if it proves any thing, proves that there ought to be no + general government whatever. For the powers which, it seems to be + agreed on all hands, ought to be vested in the Union, cannot be + safely intrusted to a body which is not under every requisite + control. But there are satisfactory reasons to show that the + objection is in reality not well founded. There is in most of the + arguments which relate to distance a palpable illusion of the + imagination. What are the sources of information by which the + people in Montgomery County must regulate their judgment of the + conduct of their representatives in the State legislature? Of + personal observation they can have no benefit. This is confined to + the citizens on the spot. They must therefore depend on the + information of intelligent men, in whom they confide; and how must + these men obtain their information? Evidently from the complexion + of public measures, from the public prints, from correspondences + with their representatives, and with other persons who reside at the + place of their deliberations. This does not apply to Montgomery + County only, but to all the counties at any considerable distance + from the seat of government. +It is equally evident that the same sources of information would + be open to the people in relation to the conduct of their + representatives in the general government, and the impediments to a + prompt communication which distance may be supposed to create, will + be overbalanced by the effects of the vigilance of the State + governments. The executive and legislative bodies of each State + will be so many sentinels over the persons employed in every + department of the national administration; and as it will be in + their power to adopt and pursue a regular and effectual system of + intelligence, they can never be at a loss to know the behavior of + those who represent their constituents in the national councils, and + can readily communicate the same knowledge to the people. Their + disposition to apprise the community of whatever may prejudice its + interests from another quarter, may be relied upon, if it were only + from the rivalship of power. And we may conclude with the fullest + assurance that the people, through that channel, will be better + informed of the conduct of their national representatives, than they + can be by any means they now possess of that of their State + representatives. +It ought also to be remembered that the citizens who inhabit the + country at and near the seat of government will, in all questions + that affect the general liberty and prosperity, have the same + interest with those who are at a distance, and that they will stand + ready to sound the alarm when necessary, and to point out the actors + in any pernicious project. The public papers will be expeditious + messengers of intelligence to the most remote inhabitants of the + Union. +Among the many curious objections which have appeared against + the proposed Constitution, the most extraordinary and the least + colorable is derived from the want of some provision respecting the + debts due TO the United States. This has been represented as a + tacit relinquishment of those debts, and as a wicked contrivance to + screen public defaulters. The newspapers have teemed with the most + inflammatory railings on this head; yet there is nothing clearer + than that the suggestion is entirely void of foundation, the + offspring of extreme ignorance or extreme dishonesty. In addition + to the remarks I have made upon the subject in another place, I + shall only observe that as it is a plain dictate of common-sense, so + it is also an established doctrine of political law, that ``STATES + NEITHER LOSE ANY OF THEIR RIGHTS, NOR ARE DISCHARGED FROM ANY OF + THEIR OBLIGATIONS, BY A CHANGE IN THE FORM OF THEIR CIVIL GOVERNMENT.''4 + The last objection of any consequence, which I at present + recollect, turns upon the article of expense. If it were even true, + that the adoption of the proposed government would occasion a + considerable increase of expense, it would be an objection that + ought to have no weight against the plan. +The great bulk of the citizens of America are with reason + convinced, that Union is the basis of their political happiness. + Men of sense of all parties now, with few exceptions, agree that it + cannot be preserved under the present system, nor without radical + alterations; that new and extensive powers ought to be granted to + the national head, and that these require a different organization + of the federal government a single body being an unsafe depositary + of such ample authorities. In conceding all this, the question of + expense must be given up; for it is impossible, with any degree of + safety, to narrow the foundation upon which the system is to stand. + The two branches of the legislature are, in the first instance, to + consist of only sixty-five persons, which is the same number of + which Congress, under the existing Confederation, may be composed. + It is true that this number is intended to be increased; but this + is to keep pace with the progress of the population and resources of + the country. It is evident that a less number would, even in the + first instance, have been unsafe, and that a continuance of the + present number would, in a more advanced stage of population, be a + very inadequate representation of the people. +Whence is the dreaded augmentation of expense to spring? One + source indicated, is the multiplication of offices under the new + government. Let us examine this a little. +It is evident that the principal departments of the + administration under the present government, are the same which will + be required under the new. There are now a Secretary of War, a + Secretary of Foreign Affairs, a Secretary for Domestic Affairs, a + Board of Treasury, consisting of three persons, a Treasurer, + assistants, clerks, etc. These officers are indispensable under any + system, and will suffice under the new as well as the old. As to + ambassadors and other ministers and agents in foreign countries, the + proposed Constitution can make no other difference than to render + their characters, where they reside, more respectable, and their + services more useful. As to persons to be employed in the + collection of the revenues, it is unquestionably true that these + will form a very considerable addition to the number of federal + officers; but it will not follow that this will occasion an + increase of public expense. It will be in most cases nothing more + than an exchange of State for national officers. In the collection + of all duties, for instance, the persons employed will be wholly of + the latter description. The States individually will stand in no + need of any for this purpose. What difference can it make in point + of expense to pay officers of the customs appointed by the State or + by the United States? There is no good reason to suppose that + either the number or the salaries of the latter will be greater than + those of the former. +Where then are we to seek for those additional articles of + expense which are to swell the account to the enormous size that has + been represented to us? The chief item which occurs to me respects + the support of the judges of the United States. I do not add the + President, because there is now a president of Congress, whose + expenses may not be far, if any thing, short of those which will be + incurred on account of the President of the United States. The + support of the judges will clearly be an extra expense, but to what + extent will depend on the particular plan which may be adopted in + regard to this matter. But upon no reasonable plan can it amount to + a sum which will be an object of material consequence. +Let us now see what there is to counterbalance any extra expense + that may attend the establishment of the proposed government. The + first thing which presents itself is that a great part of the + business which now keeps Congress sitting through the year will be + transacted by the President. Even the management of foreign + negotiations will naturally devolve upon him, according to general + principles concerted with the Senate, and subject to their final + concurrence. Hence it is evident that a portion of the year will + suffice for the session of both the Senate and the House of + Representatives; we may suppose about a fourth for the latter and a + third, or perhaps half, for the former. The extra business of + treaties and appointments may give this extra occupation to the + Senate. From this circumstance we may infer that, until the House + of Representatives shall be increased greatly beyond its present + number, there will be a considerable saving of expense from the + difference between the constant session of the present and the + temporary session of the future Congress. +But there is another circumstance of great importance in the + view of economy. The business of the United States has hitherto + occupied the State legislatures, as well as Congress. The latter + has made requisitions which the former have had to provide for. + Hence it has happened that the sessions of the State legislatures + have been protracted greatly beyond what was necessary for the + execution of the mere local business of the States. More than half + their time has been frequently employed in matters which related to + the United States. Now the members who compose the legislatures of + the several States amount to two thousand and upwards, which number + has hitherto performed what under the new system will be done in the + first instance by sixty-five persons, and probably at no future + period by above a fourth or fifth of that number. The Congress + under the proposed government will do all the business of the United + States themselves, without the intervention of the State + legislatures, who thenceforth will have only to attend to the + affairs of their particular States, and will not have to sit in any + proportion as long as they have heretofore done. This difference in + the time of the sessions of the State legislatures will be clear + gain, and will alone form an article of saving, which may be + regarded as an equivalent for any additional objects of expense that + may be occasioned by the adoption of the new system. +The result from these observations is that the sources of + additional expense from the establishment of the proposed + Constitution are much fewer than may have been imagined; that they + are counterbalanced by considerable objects of saving; and that + while it is questionable on which side the scale will preponderate, + it is certain that a government less expensive would be incompetent + to the purposes of the Union. +PUBLIUS. +1. Vide Blackstone's ``Commentaries,'' vol. 1., p. 136. +2. Vide Blackstone's ``Commentaries,'' vol. iv., p. 438. +3. To show that there is a power in the Constitution by which + the liberty of the press may be affected, recourse has been had to + the power of taxation. It is said that duties may be laid upon the + publications so high as to amount to a prohibition. I know not by + what logic it could be maintained, that the declarations in the + State constitutions, in favor of the freedom of the press, would be + a constitutional impediment to the imposition of duties upon + publications by the State legislatures. It cannot certainly be + pretended that any degree of duties, however low, would be an + abridgment of the liberty of the press. We know that newspapers + are taxed in Great Britain, and yet it is notorious that the press + nowhere enjoys greater liberty than in that country. And if duties + of any kind may be laid without a violation of that liberty, it is + evident that the extent must depend on legislative discretion, + respecting the liberty of the press, will give it no greater + security than it will have without them. The same invasions of it + may be effected under the State constitutions which contain those + declarations through the means of taxation, as under the proposed + Constitution, which has nothing of the kind. It would be quite as + significant to declare that government ought to be free, that taxes + ought not to be excessive, etc., as that the liberty of the press + ought not to be restrained. + + +FEDERALIST No. 85 + +Concluding Remarks +From MCLEAN's Edition, New York. + +HAMILTON + +To the People of the State of New York: +ACCORDING to the formal division of the subject of these papers, + announced in my first number, there would appear still to remain for + discussion two points: ``the analogy of the proposed government to + your own State constitution,'' and ``the additional security which + its adoption will afford to republican government, to liberty, and + to property.'' But these heads have been so fully anticipated and + exhausted in the progress of the work, that it would now scarcely be + possible to do any thing more than repeat, in a more dilated form, + what has been heretofore said, which the advanced stage of the + question, and the time already spent upon it, conspire to forbid. +It is remarkable, that the resemblance of the plan of the + convention to the act which organizes the government of this State + holds, not less with regard to many of the supposed defects, than to + the real excellences of the former. Among the pretended defects are + the re-eligibility of the Executive, the want of a council, the + omission of a formal bill of rights, the omission of a provision + respecting the liberty of the press. These and several others which + have been noted in the course of our inquiries are as much + chargeable on the existing constitution of this State, as on the one + proposed for the Union; and a man must have slender pretensions to + consistency, who can rail at the latter for imperfections which he + finds no difficulty in excusing in the former. Nor indeed can there + be a better proof of the insincerity and affectation of some of the + zealous adversaries of the plan of the convention among us, who + profess to be the devoted admirers of the government under which + they live, than the fury with which they have attacked that plan, + for matters in regard to which our own constitution is equally or + perhaps more vulnerable. +The additional securities to republican government, to liberty + and to property, to be derived from the adoption of the plan under + consideration, consist chiefly in the restraints which the + preservation of the Union will impose on local factions and + insurrections, and on the ambition of powerful individuals in single + States, who may acquire credit and influence enough, from leaders + and favorites, to become the despots of the people; in the + diminution of the opportunities to foreign intrigue, which the + dissolution of the Confederacy would invite and facilitate; in the + prevention of extensive military establishments, which could not + fail to grow out of wars between the States in a disunited + situation; in the express guaranty of a republican form of + government to each; in the absolute and universal exclusion of + titles of nobility; and in the precautions against the repetition + of those practices on the part of the State governments which have + undermined the foundations of property and credit, have planted + mutual distrust in the breasts of all classes of citizens, and have + occasioned an almost universal prostration of morals. +Thus have I, fellow-citizens, executed the task I had assigned + to myself; with what success, your conduct must determine. I trust + at least you will admit that I have not failed in the assurance I + gave you respecting the spirit with which my endeavors should be + conducted. I have addressed myself purely to your judgments, and + have studiously avoided those asperities which are too apt to + disgrace political disputants of all parties, and which have been + not a little provoked by the language and conduct of the opponents + of the Constitution. The charge of a conspiracy against the + liberties of the people, which has been indiscriminately brought + against the advocates of the plan, has something in it too wanton + and too malignant, not to excite the indignation of every man who + feels in his own bosom a refutation of the calumny. The perpetual + changes which have been rung upon the wealthy, the well-born, and + the great, have been such as to inspire the disgust of all sensible + men. And the unwarrantable concealments and misrepresentations + which have been in various ways practiced to keep the truth from the + public eye, have been of a nature to demand the reprobation of all + honest men. It is not impossible that these circumstances may have + occasionally betrayed me into intemperances of expression which I + did not intend; it is certain that I have frequently felt a + struggle between sensibility and moderation; and if the former has + in some instances prevailed, it must be my excuse that it has been + neither often nor much. +Let us now pause and ask ourselves whether, in the course of + these papers, the proposed Constitution has not been satisfactorily + vindicated from the aspersions thrown upon it; and whether it has + not been shown to be worthy of the public approbation, and necessary + to the public safety and prosperity. Every man is bound to answer + these questions to himself, according to the best of his conscience + and understanding, and to act agreeably to the genuine and sober + dictates of his judgment. This is a duty from which nothing can + give him a dispensation. 'T is one that he is called upon, nay, + constrained by all the obligations that form the bands of society, + to discharge sincerely and honestly. No partial motive, no + particular interest, no pride of opinion, no temporary passion or + prejudice, will justify to himself, to his country, or to his + posterity, an improper election of the part he is to act. Let him + beware of an obstinate adherence to party; let him reflect that the + object upon which he is to decide is not a particular interest of + the community, but the very existence of the nation; and let him + remember that a majority of America has already given its sanction + to the plan which he is to approve or reject. +I shall not dissemble that I feel an entire confidence in the + arguments which recommend the proposed system to your adoption, and + that I am unable to discern any real force in those by which it has + been opposed. I am persuaded that it is the best which our + political situation, habits, and opinions will admit, and superior + to any the revolution has produced. +Concessions on the part of the friends of the plan, that it has + not a claim to absolute perfection, have afforded matter of no small + triumph to its enemies. ``Why,'' say they, ``should we adopt an + imperfect thing? Why not amend it and make it perfect before it is + irrevocably established?'' This may be plausible enough, but it is + only plausible. In the first place I remark, that the extent of + these concessions has been greatly exaggerated. They have been + stated as amounting to an admission that the plan is radically + defective, and that without material alterations the rights and the + interests of the community cannot be safely confided to it. This, + as far as I have understood the meaning of those who make the + concessions, is an entire perversion of their sense. No advocate of + the measure can be found, who will not declare as his sentiment, + that the system, though it may not be perfect in every part, is, + upon the whole, a good one; is the best that the present views and + circumstances of the country will permit; and is such an one as + promises every species of security which a reasonable people can + desire. +I answer in the next place, that I should esteem it the extreme + of imprudence to prolong the precarious state of our national + affairs, and to expose the Union to the jeopardy of successive + experiments, in the chimerical pursuit of a perfect plan. I never + expect to see a perfect work from imperfect man. The result of the + deliberations of all collective bodies must necessarily be a + compound, as well of the errors and prejudices, as of the good sense + and wisdom, of the individuals of whom they are composed. The + compacts which are to embrace thirteen distinct States in a common + bond of amity and union, must as necessarily be a compromise of as + many dissimilar interests and inclinations. How can perfection + spring from such materials? +The reasons assigned in an excellent little pamphlet lately + published in this city,1 are unanswerable to show the utter + improbability of assembling a new convention, under circumstances in + any degree so favorable to a happy issue, as those in which the late + convention met, deliberated, and concluded. I will not repeat the + arguments there used, as I presume the production itself has had an + extensive circulation. It is certainly well worthy the perusal of + every friend to his country. There is, however, one point of light + in which the subject of amendments still remains to be considered, + and in which it has not yet been exhibited to public view. I cannot + resolve to conclude without first taking a survey of it in this + aspect. +It appears to me susceptible of absolute demonstration, that it + will be far more easy to obtain subsequent than previous amendments + to the Constitution. The moment an alteration is made in the + present plan, it becomes, to the purpose of adoption, a new one, and + must undergo a new decision of each State. To its complete + establishment throughout the Union, it will therefore require the + concurrence of thirteen States. If, on the contrary, the + Constitution proposed should once be ratified by all the States as + it stands, alterations in it may at any time be effected by nine + States. Here, then, the chances are as thirteen to nine2 in + favor of subsequent amendment, rather than of the original adoption + of an entire system. +This is not all. Every Constitution for the United States must + inevitably consist of a great variety of particulars, in which + thirteen independent States are to be accommodated in their + interests or opinions of interest. We may of course expect to see, + in any body of men charged with its original formation, very + different combinations of the parts upon different points. Many of + those who form a majority on one question, may become the minority + on a second, and an association dissimilar to either may constitute + the majority on a third. Hence the necessity of moulding and + arranging all the particulars which are to compose the whole, in + such a manner as to satisfy all the parties to the compact; and + hence, also, an immense multiplication of difficulties and + casualties in obtaining the collective assent to a final act. The + degree of that multiplication must evidently be in a ratio to the + number of particulars and the number of parties. +But every amendment to the Constitution, if once established, + would be a single proposition, and might be brought forward singly. + There would then be no necessity for management or compromise, in + relation to any other point no giving nor taking. The will of the + requisite number would at once bring the matter to a decisive issue. + And consequently, whenever nine, or rather ten States, were united + in the desire of a particular amendment, that amendment must + infallibly take place. There can, therefore, be no comparison + between the facility of affecting an amendment, and that of + establishing in the first instance a complete Constitution. +In opposition to the probability of subsequent amendments, it + has been urged that the persons delegated to the administration of + the national government will always be disinclined to yield up any + portion of the authority of which they were once possessed. For my + own part I acknowledge a thorough conviction that any amendments + which may, upon mature consideration, be thought useful, will be + applicable to the organization of the government, not to the mass of + its powers; and on this account alone, I think there is no weight + in the observation just stated. I also think there is little weight + in it on another account. The intrinsic difficulty of governing + thirteen States at any rate, independent of calculations upon an + ordinary degree of public spirit and integrity, will, in my opinion + constantly impose on the national rulers the necessity of a spirit + of accommodation to the reasonable expectations of their + constituents. But there is yet a further consideration, which + proves beyond the possibility of a doubt, that the observation is + futile. It is this that the national rulers, whenever nine States + concur, will have no option upon the subject. By the fifth article + of the plan, the Congress will be obliged ``on the application of the + legislatures of two thirds of the States, which at present amount to + nine, to call a convention for proposing amendments, which shall be + valid, to all intents and purposes, as part of the Constitution, + when ratified by the legislatures of three fourths of the States, or + by conventions in three fourths thereof.'' The words of this + article are peremptory. The Congress ``shall call a convention.'' + Nothing in this particular is left to the discretion of that body. + And of consequence, all the declamation about the disinclination to + a change vanishes in air. Nor however difficult it may be supposed + to unite two thirds or three fourths of the State legislatures, in + amendments which may affect local interests, can there be any room + to apprehend any such difficulty in a union on points which are + merely relative to the general liberty or security of the people. + We may safely rely on the disposition of the State legislatures to + erect barriers against the encroachments of the national authority. +If the foregoing argument is a fallacy, certain it is that I am + myself deceived by it, for it is, in my conception, one of those + rare instances in which a political truth can be brought to the test + of a mathematical demonstration. Those who see the matter in the + same light with me, however zealous they may be for amendments, must + agree in the propriety of a previous adoption, as the most direct + road to their own object. +The zeal for attempts to amend, prior to the establishment of + the Constitution, must abate in every man who is ready to accede to + the truth of the following observations of a writer equally solid + and ingenious: ``To balance a large state or society Usays hee, + whether monarchical or republican, on general laws, is a work of so + great difficulty, that no human genius, however comprehensive, is + able, by the mere dint of reason and reflection, to effect it. The + judgments of many must unite in the work; experience must guide + their labor; time must bring it to perfection, and the feeling of + inconveniences must correct the mistakes which they INEVITABLY fall + into in their first trials and experiments.''3 These judicious + reflections contain a lesson of moderation to all the sincere lovers + of the Union, and ought to put them upon their guard against + hazarding anarchy, civil war, a perpetual alienation of the States + from each other, and perhaps the military despotism of a victorious + demagogue, in the pursuit of what they are not likely to obtain, but + from time and experience. It may be in me a defect of political + fortitude, but I acknowledge that I cannot entertain an equal + tranquillity with those who affect to treat the dangers of a longer + continuance in our present situation as imaginary. A nation, + without a national government, is, in my view, an awful spectacle. + The establishment of a Constitution, in time of profound peace, by + the voluntary consent of a whole people, is a prodigy, to the + completion of which I look forward with trembling anxiety. I can + reconcile it to no rules of prudence to let go the hold we now have, + in so arduous an enterprise, upon seven out of the thirteen States, + and after having passed over so considerable a part of the ground, + to recommence the course. I dread the more the consequences of new + attempts, because I know that powerful individuals, in this and in + other States, are enemies to a general national government in every + possible shape. +PUBLIUS. +1 Entitled ``An Address to the People of the State of New + York.'' +2 It may rather be said TEN, for though two thirds may set on + foot the measure, three fourths must ratify. +3 Hume's ``Essays,'' vol. i., page 128: ``The Rise of Arts and + Sciences.'' + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of the Federalist Papers + + diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/frankenstein.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/frankenstein.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..18e6e0f --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/frankenstein.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9304 @@ + + + + + + + +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Frankenstein, by Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley + + + + + + + + + +
+
+Project Gutenberg's Frankenstein, by Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
+
+
+Title: Frankenstein
+       or The Modern Prometheus
+
+Author: Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley
+
+Release Date: June 17, 2008 [EBook #84]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANKENSTEIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss, Christy Phillips, Lynn Hanninen,
+and David Meltzer. HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+
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+
+
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+ + +

+ +

+Frankenstein, +

+ +

+or the Modern Prometheus +

+ +
+ +

+by +

+ +

+Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley +

+ +


+ +

+CONTENTS +

+ +
+ +

+ + + + + + + +
+Letter 1 + +Letter 2 + +Letter 3 + +Letter 4 +
+ +
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
+Chapter 1 + +Chapter 2 + +Chapter 3 + +Chapter 4 +
+Chapter 5 + +Chapter 6 + +Chapter 7 + +Chapter 8 +
+Chapter 9 + +Chapter 10 + +Chapter 11 + +Chapter 12 +
+Chapter 13 + +Chapter 14 + +Chapter 15 + +Chapter 16 +
+Chapter 17 + +Chapter 18 + +Chapter 19 + +Chapter 20 +
+Chapter 21 + +Chapter 22 + +Chapter 23 + +Chapter 24 +
+ +


+ + +

+Letter 1 +

+ +

+St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17— +

+TO Mrs. Saville, England +

+ +

+You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the +commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil +forebodings. I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assure +my dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success +of my undertaking. +

+ +

+I am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets of +Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which +braces my nerves and fills me with delight. Do you understand this +feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards +which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes. +Inspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become more fervent +and vivid. I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of +frost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the +region of beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sun is forever +visible, its broad disk just skirting the horizon and diffusing a +perpetual splendour. There—for with your leave, my sister, I will put +some trust in preceding navigators—there snow and frost are banished; +and, sailing over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing in +wonders and in beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable +globe. Its productions and features may be without example, as the +phenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered +solitudes. What may not be expected in a country of eternal light? I +may there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle and may +regulate a thousand celestial observations that require only this +voyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent forever. I +shall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world +never before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by +the foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to +conquer all fear of danger or death and to induce me to commence this +laborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in a little +boat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up his +native river. But supposing all these conjectures to be false, you +cannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on all +mankind, to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole +to those countries, to reach which at present so many months are +requisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if at +all possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine. +

+ +

+These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began my +letter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me +to heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquillize the mind as +a steady purpose—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual +eye. This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. I +have read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which have +been made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean +through the seas which surround the pole. You may remember that a +history of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the +whole of our good Uncle Thomas' library. My education was neglected, +yet I was passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my study +day and night, and my familiarity with them increased that regret which +I had felt, as a child, on learning that my father's dying injunction +had forbidden my uncle to allow me to embark in a seafaring life. +

+ +

+These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets +whose effusions entranced my soul and lifted it to heaven. I also +became a poet and for one year lived in a paradise of my own creation; +I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the +names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated. You are well +acquainted with my failure and how heavily I bore the disappointment. +But just at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my +thoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent. +

+ +

+Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking. I +can, even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this +great enterprise. I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. I +accompanied the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea; +I voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I often +worked harder than the common sailors during the day and devoted my +nights to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those +branches of physical science from which a naval adventurer might derive +the greatest practical advantage. Twice I actually hired myself as an +under-mate in a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. I +must own I felt a little proud when my captain offered me the second +dignity in the vessel and entreated me to remain with the greatest +earnestness, so valuable did he consider my services. And now, dear +Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great purpose? My life +might have been passed in ease and luxury, but I preferred glory to +every enticement that wealth placed in my path. Oh, that some +encouraging voice would answer in the affirmative! My courage and my +resolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are often +depressed. I am about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage, the +emergencies of which will demand all my fortitude: I am required not +only to raise the spirits of others, but sometimes to sustain my own, +when theirs are failing. +

+ +

+This is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia. They fly +quickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in +my opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stagecoach. The +cold is not excessive, if you are wrapped in furs—a dress which I have +already adopted, for there is a great difference between walking the +deck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise +prevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins. I have no +ambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh and +Archangel. I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three +weeks; and my intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be +done by paying the insurance for the owner, and to engage as many +sailors as I think necessary among those who are accustomed to the +whale-fishing. I do not intend to sail until the month of June; and +when shall I return? Ah, dear sister, how can I answer this question? +If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will pass before you +and I may meet. If I fail, you will see me again soon, or never. +Farewell, my dear, excellent Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings on +you, and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for +all your love and kindness. +

+ +

+Your affectionate brother, +    R. Walton
+

+ +


+ + +

+Letter 2 +

+ +
+ +

+Archangel, 28th March, 17— +

+To Mrs. Saville, England +

+ +

+How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow! +Yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise. I have hired a +vessel and am occupied in collecting my sailors; those whom I have +already engaged appear to be men on whom I can depend and are certainly +possessed of dauntless courage. +

+ +

+But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy, and +the absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil, I +have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of +success, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by +disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I +shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor +medium for the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a man +who could sympathize with me, whose eyes would reply to mine. You may +deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a +friend. I have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed of a +cultivated as well as of a capacious mind, whose tastes are like my +own, to approve or amend my plans. How would such a friend repair the +faults of your poor brother! I am too ardent in execution and too +impatient of difficulties. But it is a still greater evil to me that I +am self-educated: for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild +on a common and read nothing but our Uncle Thomas' books of voyages. At +that age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own +country; but it was only when it had ceased to be in my power to derive +its most important benefits from such a conviction that I perceived the +necessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of my +native country. Now I am twenty-eight and am in reality more +illiterate than many schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I have +thought more and that my daydreams are more extended and magnificent, +but they want (as the painters call it) KEEPING; and I greatly need a +friend who would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, and +affection enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind. Well, these +are useless complaints; I shall certainly find no friend on the wide +ocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen. Yet +some feelings, unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even in +these rugged bosoms. My lieutenant, for instance, is a man of +wonderful courage and enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory, or +rather, to word my phrase more characteristically, of advancement in +his profession. He is an Englishman, and in the midst of national and +professional prejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the +noblest endowments of humanity. I first became acquainted with him on +board a whale vessel; finding that he was unemployed in this city, I +easily engaged him to assist in my enterprise. The master is a person +of an excellent disposition and is remarkable in the ship for his +gentleness and the mildness of his discipline. This circumstance, +added to his well-known integrity and dauntless courage, made me very +desirous to engage him. A youth passed in solitude, my best years +spent under your gentle and feminine fosterage, has so refined the +groundwork of my character that I cannot overcome an intense distaste +to the usual brutality exercised on board ship: I have never believed +it to be necessary, and when I heard of a mariner equally noted for his +kindliness of heart and the respect and obedience paid to him by his +crew, I felt myself peculiarly fortunate in being able to secure his +services. I heard of him first in rather a romantic manner, from a +lady who owes to him the happiness of her life. This, briefly, is his +story. Some years ago he loved a young Russian lady of moderate +fortune, and having amassed a considerable sum in prize-money, the +father of the girl consented to the match. He saw his mistress once +before the destined ceremony; but she was bathed in tears, and throwing +herself at his feet, entreated him to spare her, confessing at the same +time that she loved another, but that he was poor, and that her father +would never consent to the union. My generous friend reassured the +suppliant, and on being informed of the name of her lover, instantly +abandoned his pursuit. He had already bought a farm with his money, on +which he had designed to pass the remainder of his life; but he +bestowed the whole on his rival, together with the remains of his +prize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited the young +woman's father to consent to her marriage with her lover. But the old +man decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my friend, +who, when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country, nor +returned until he heard that his former mistress was married according +to her inclinations. "What a noble fellow!" you will exclaim. He is +so; but then he is wholly uneducated: he is as silent as a Turk, and a +kind of ignorant carelessness attends him, which, while it renders his +conduct the more astonishing, detracts from the interest and sympathy +which otherwise he would command. +

+ +

+Yet do not suppose, because I complain a little or because I can +conceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that I am +wavering in my resolutions. Those are as fixed as fate, and my voyage +is only now delayed until the weather shall permit my embarkation. The +winter has been dreadfully severe, but the spring promises well, and it +is considered as a remarkably early season, so that perhaps I may sail +sooner than I expected. I shall do nothing rashly: you know me +sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever the +safety of others is committed to my care. +

+ +

+I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of my +undertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of +the trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with which +I am preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions, to "the +land of mist and snow," but I shall kill no albatross; therefore do not +be alarmed for my safety or if I should come back to you as worn and +woeful as the "Ancient Mariner." You will smile at my allusion, but I +will disclose a secret. I have often attributed my attachment to, my +passionate enthusiasm for, the dangerous mysteries of ocean to that +production of the most imaginative of modern poets. There is something +at work in my soul which I do not understand. I am practically +industrious—painstaking, a workman to execute with perseverance and +labour—but besides this there is a love for the marvellous, a belief +in the marvellous, intertwined in all my projects, which hurries me out +of the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea and unvisited +regions I am about to explore. But to return to dearer considerations. +Shall I meet you again, after having traversed immense seas, and +returned by the most southern cape of Africa or America? I dare not +expect such success, yet I cannot bear to look on the reverse of the +picture. Continue for the present to write to me by every opportunity: +I may receive your letters on some occasions when I need them most to +support my spirits. I love you very tenderly. Remember me with +affection, should you never hear from me again. +

+ +

+Your affectionate brother, + Robert Walton
+

+ +


+ + +

+Letter 3 +

+ +
+ +

+July 7th, 17— +

+To Mrs. Saville, England +

+ +

+My dear Sister, +

+ +

+I write a few lines in haste to say that I am safe—and well advanced +on my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchantman now on +its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not +see my native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good +spirits: my men are bold and apparently firm of purpose, nor do the +floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers +of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We +have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of +summer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales, +which blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire +to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not +expected. +

+ +

+No incidents have hitherto befallen us that would make a figure in a +letter. One or two stiff gales and the springing of a leak are +accidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record, and +I shall be well content if nothing worse happen to us during our voyage. +

+ +

+Adieu, my dear Margaret. Be assured that for my own sake, as well as +yours, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, +persevering, and prudent. +

+ +

+But success SHALL crown my endeavours. Wherefore not? Thus far I have +gone, tracing a secure way over the pathless seas, the very stars +themselves being witnesses and testimonies of my triumph. Why not +still proceed over the untamed yet obedient element? What can stop the +determined heart and resolved will of man? +

+ +

+My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus. But I must +finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister! +

+ +

+R.W. +

+ +


+ + +

+Letter 4 +

+ +
+ +

+August 5th, 17— +

+To Mrs. Saville, England +

+ +

+So strange an accident has happened to us that I cannot forbear +recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me before +these papers can come into your possession. +

+ +

+Last Monday (July 31st) we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closed +in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea-room in which +she floated. Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we +were compassed round by a very thick fog. We accordingly lay to, +hoping that some change would take place in the atmosphere and weather. +

+ +

+About two o'clock the mist cleared away, and we beheld, stretched out +in every direction, vast and irregular plains of ice, which seemed to +have no end. Some of my comrades groaned, and my own mind began to +grow watchful with anxious thoughts, when a strange sight suddenly +attracted our attention and diverted our solicitude from our own +situation. We perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by +dogs, pass on towards the north, at the distance of half a mile; a +being which had the shape of a man, but apparently of gigantic stature, +sat in the sledge and guided the dogs. We watched the rapid progress +of the traveller with our telescopes until he was lost among the +distant inequalities of the ice. This appearance excited our +unqualified wonder. We were, as we believed, many hundred miles from +any land; but this apparition seemed to denote that it was not, in +reality, so distant as we had supposed. Shut in, however, by ice, it +was impossible to follow his track, which we had observed with the +greatest attention. About two hours after this occurrence we heard the +ground sea, and before night the ice broke and freed our ship. We, +however, lay to until the morning, fearing to encounter in the dark +those large loose masses which float about after the breaking up of the +ice. I profited of this time to rest for a few hours. +

+ +

+In the morning, however, as soon as it was light, I went upon deck and +found all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel, apparently +talking to someone in the sea. It was, in fact, a sledge, like that we +had seen before, which had drifted towards us in the night on a large +fragment of ice. Only one dog remained alive; but there was a human +being within it whom the sailors were persuading to enter the vessel. +He was not, as the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of +some undiscovered island, but a European. When I appeared on deck the +master said, "Here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perish +on the open sea." +

+ +

+On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English, although with a +foreign accent. "Before I come on board your vessel," said he, "will +you have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?" +

+ +

+You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressed +to me from a man on the brink of destruction and to whom I should have +supposed that my vessel would have been a resource which he would not +have exchanged for the most precious wealth the earth can afford. I +replied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery towards the +northern pole. +

+ +

+Upon hearing this he appeared satisfied and consented to come on board. +Good God! Margaret, if you had seen the man who thus capitulated for +his safety, your surprise would have been boundless. His limbs were +nearly frozen, and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and +suffering. I never saw a man in so wretched a condition. We attempted +to carry him into the cabin, but as soon as he had quitted the fresh +air he fainted. We accordingly brought him back to the deck and +restored him to animation by rubbing him with brandy and forcing him to +swallow a small quantity. As soon as he showed signs of life we +wrapped him up in blankets and placed him near the chimney of the +kitchen stove. By slow degrees he recovered and ate a little soup, +which restored him wonderfully. +

+ +

+Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak, and I often +feared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding. When he +had in some measure recovered, I removed him to my own cabin and +attended on him as much as my duty would permit. I never saw a more +interesting creature: his eyes have generally an expression of +wildness, and even madness, but there are moments when, if anyone +performs an act of kindness towards him or does him any the most +trifling service, his whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with +a beam of benevolence and sweetness that I never saw equalled. But he +is generally melancholy and despairing, and sometimes he gnashes his +teeth, as if impatient of the weight of woes that oppresses him. +

+ +

+When my guest was a little recovered I had great trouble to keep off +the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions; but I would not +allow him to be tormented by their idle curiosity, in a state of body +and mind whose restoration evidently depended upon entire repose. +Once, however, the lieutenant asked why he had come so far upon the ice +in so strange a vehicle. +

+ +

+His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom, and +he replied, "To seek one who fled from me." +

+ +

+"And did the man whom you pursued travel in the same fashion?" +

+ +

+"Yes." +

+ +

+"Then I fancy we have seen him, for the day before we picked you up we +saw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it, across the ice." +

+ +

+This aroused the stranger's attention, and he asked a multitude of +questions concerning the route which the demon, as he called him, had +pursued. Soon after, when he was alone with me, he said, "I have, +doubtless, excited your curiosity, as well as that of these good +people; but you are too considerate to make inquiries." +

+ +

+"Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in me to +trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine." +

+ +

+"And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation; you have +benevolently restored me to life." +

+ +

+Soon after this he inquired if I thought that the breaking up of the +ice had destroyed the other sledge. I replied that I could not answer +with any degree of certainty, for the ice had not broken until near +midnight, and the traveller might have arrived at a place of safety +before that time; but of this I could not judge. From this time a new +spirit of life animated the decaying frame of the stranger. He +manifested the greatest eagerness to be upon deck to watch for the +sledge which had before appeared; but I have persuaded him to remain in +the cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the rawness of the +atmosphere. I have promised that someone should watch for him and give +him instant notice if any new object should appear in sight. +

+ +

+Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to the +present day. The stranger has gradually improved in health but is very +silent and appears uneasy when anyone except myself enters his cabin. +Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle that the sailors are all +interested in him, although they have had very little communication +with him. For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother, and his +constant and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion. He must +have been a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreck +so attractive and amiable. I said in one of my letters, my dear +Margaret, that I should find no friend on the wide ocean; yet I have +found a man who, before his spirit had been broken by misery, I should +have been happy to have possessed as the brother of my heart. +

+ +

+I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at intervals, +should I have any fresh incidents to record. +

+ +
+ +

+August 13th, 17— +

+ +

+My affection for my guest increases every day. He excites at once my +admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree. How can I see so +noble a creature destroyed by misery without feeling the most poignant +grief? He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so cultivated, and +when he speaks, although his words are culled with the choicest art, +yet they flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence. He is now much +recovered from his illness and is continually on the deck, apparently +watching for the sledge that preceded his own. Yet, although unhappy, +he is not so utterly occupied by his own misery but that he interests +himself deeply in the projects of others. He has frequently conversed +with me on mine, which I have communicated to him without disguise. He +entered attentively into all my arguments in favour of my eventual +success and into every minute detail of the measures I had taken to +secure it. I was easily led by the sympathy which he evinced to use +the language of my heart, to give utterance to the burning ardour of my +soul and to say, with all the fervour that warmed me, how gladly I +would sacrifice my fortune, my existence, my every hope, to the +furtherance of my enterprise. One man's life or death were but a small +price to pay for the acquirement of the knowledge which I sought, for +the dominion I should acquire and transmit over the elemental foes of +our race. As I spoke, a dark gloom spread over my listener's +countenance. At first I perceived that he tried to suppress his +emotion; he placed his hands before his eyes, and my voice quivered and +failed me as I beheld tears trickle fast from between his fingers; a +groan burst from his heaving breast. I paused; at length he spoke, in +broken accents: "Unhappy man! Do you share my madness? Have you +drunk also of the intoxicating draught? Hear me; let me reveal my +tale, and you will dash the cup from your lips!" +

+ +

+Such words, you may imagine, strongly excited my curiosity; but the +paroxysm of grief that had seized the stranger overcame his weakened +powers, and many hours of repose and tranquil conversation were +necessary to restore his composure. Having conquered the violence of +his feelings, he appeared to despise himself for being the slave of +passion; and quelling the dark tyranny of despair, he led me again to +converse concerning myself personally. He asked me the history of my +earlier years. The tale was quickly told, but it awakened various +trains of reflection. I spoke of my desire of finding a friend, of my +thirst for a more intimate sympathy with a fellow mind than had ever +fallen to my lot, and expressed my conviction that a man could boast of +little happiness who did not enjoy this blessing. "I agree with you," +replied the stranger; "we are unfashioned creatures, but half made up, +if one wiser, better, dearer than ourselves—such a friend ought to +be—do not lend his aid to perfectionate our weak and faulty natures. I +once had a friend, the most noble of human creatures, and am entitled, +therefore, to judge respecting friendship. You have hope, and the +world before you, and have no cause for despair. But I—I have lost +everything and cannot begin life anew." +

+ +

+As he said this his countenance became expressive of a calm, settled +grief that touched me to the heart. But he was silent and presently +retired to his cabin. +

+ +

+Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he +does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight +afforded by these wonderful regions seem still to have the power of +elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he +may suffer misery and be overwhelmed by disappointments, yet when he +has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a +halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures. +

+ +

+Will you smile at the enthusiasm I express concerning this divine +wanderer? You would not if you saw him. You have been tutored and +refined by books and retirement from the world, and you are therefore +somewhat fastidious; but this only renders you the more fit to +appreciate the extraordinary merits of this wonderful man. Sometimes I +have endeavoured to discover what quality it is which he possesses that +elevates him so immeasurably above any other person I ever knew. I +believe it to be an intuitive discernment, a quick but never-failing +power of judgment, a penetration into the causes of things, unequalled +for clearness and precision; add to this a facility of expression and a +voice whose varied intonations are soul-subduing music. +

+ +
+ +

+August 19, 17— +

+ +

+Yesterday the stranger said to me, "You may easily perceive, Captain +Walton, that I have suffered great and unparalleled misfortunes. I had +determined at one time that the memory of these evils should die with +me, but you have won me to alter my determination. You seek for +knowledge and wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that the +gratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine +has been. I do not know that the relation of my disasters will be +useful to you; yet, when I reflect that you are pursuing the same +course, exposing yourself to the same dangers which have rendered me +what I am, I imagine that you may deduce an apt moral from my tale, one +that may direct you if you succeed in your undertaking and console you +in case of failure. Prepare to hear of occurrences which are usually +deemed marvellous. Were we among the tamer scenes of nature I might +fear to encounter your unbelief, perhaps your ridicule; but many things +will appear possible in these wild and mysterious regions which would +provoke the laughter of those unacquainted with the ever-varied powers +of nature; nor can I doubt but that my tale conveys in its series +internal evidence of the truth of the events of which it is composed." +

+ +

+You may easily imagine that I was much gratified by the offered +communication, yet I could not endure that he should renew his grief by +a recital of his misfortunes. I felt the greatest eagerness to hear +the promised narrative, partly from curiosity and partly from a strong +desire to ameliorate his fate if it were in my power. I expressed +these feelings in my answer. +

+ +

+"I thank you," he replied, "for your sympathy, but it is useless; my +fate is nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one event, and then I shall +repose in peace. I understand your feeling," continued he, perceiving +that I wished to interrupt him; "but you are mistaken, my friend, if +thus you will allow me to name you; nothing can alter my destiny; +listen to my history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it is +determined." +

+ +

+He then told me that he would commence his narrative the next day when +I should be at leisure. This promise drew from me the warmest thanks. +I have resolved every night, when I am not imperatively occupied by my +duties, to record, as nearly as possible in his own words, what he has +related during the day. If I should be engaged, I will at least make +notes. This manuscript will doubtless afford you the greatest +pleasure; but to me, who know him, and who hear it from his own +lips—with what interest and sympathy shall I read it in some future +day! Even now, as I commence my task, his full-toned voice swells in +my ears; his lustrous eyes dwell on me with all their melancholy +sweetness; I see his thin hand raised in animation, while the +lineaments of his face are irradiated by the soul within. +

+ +

+Strange and harrowing must be his story, frightful the storm which +embraced the gallant vessel on its course and wrecked it—thus! +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 1 +

+ +

+I am by birth a Genevese, and my family is one of the most +distinguished of that republic. My ancestors had been for many years +counsellors and syndics, and my father had filled several public +situations with honour and reputation. He was respected by all who +knew him for his integrity and indefatigable attention to public +business. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the +affairs of his country; a variety of circumstances had prevented his +marrying early, nor was it until the decline of life that he became a +husband and the father of a family. +

+ +

+As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot +refrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was a +merchant who, from a flourishing state, fell, through numerous +mischances, into poverty. This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a +proud and unbending disposition and could not bear to live in poverty +and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been +distinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts, +therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his +daughter to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in +wretchedness. My father loved Beaufort with the truest friendship and +was deeply grieved by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances. +He bitterly deplored the false pride which led his friend to a conduct +so little worthy of the affection that united them. He lost no time in +endeavouring to seek him out, with the hope of persuading him to begin +the world again through his credit and assistance. Beaufort had taken +effectual measures to conceal himself, and it was ten months before my +father discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this discovery, he hastened +to the house, which was situated in a mean street near the Reuss. But +when he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed him. Beaufort had +saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of his fortunes, but +it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for some months, and +in the meantime he hoped to procure some respectable employment in a +merchant's house. The interval was, consequently, spent in inaction; +his grief only became more deep and rankling when he had leisure for +reflection, and at length it took so fast hold of his mind that at the +end of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable of any +exertion. +

+ +

+His daughter attended him with the greatest tenderness, but she saw +with despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing and that +there was no other prospect of support. But Caroline Beaufort +possessed a mind of an uncommon mould, and her courage rose to support +her in her adversity. She procured plain work; she plaited straw and +by various means contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to +support life. +

+ +

+Several months passed in this manner. Her father grew worse; her time +was more entirely occupied in attending him; her means of subsistence +decreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms, leaving +her an orphan and a beggar. This last blow overcame her, and she knelt +by Beaufort's coffin weeping bitterly, when my father entered the +chamber. He came like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, who +committed herself to his care; and after the interment of his friend he +conducted her to Geneva and placed her under the protection of a +relation. Two years after this event Caroline became his wife. +

+ +

+There was a considerable difference between the ages of my parents, but +this circumstance seemed to unite them only closer in bonds of devoted +affection. There was a sense of justice in my father's upright mind +which rendered it necessary that he should approve highly to love +strongly. Perhaps during former years he had suffered from the +late-discovered unworthiness of one beloved and so was disposed to set +a greater value on tried worth. There was a show of gratitude and +worship in his attachment to my mother, differing wholly from the +doting fondness of age, for it was inspired by reverence for her +virtues and a desire to be the means of, in some degree, recompensing +her for the sorrows she had endured, but which gave inexpressible grace +to his behaviour to her. Everything was made to yield to her wishes +and her convenience. He strove to shelter her, as a fair exotic is +sheltered by the gardener, from every rougher wind and to surround her +with all that could tend to excite pleasurable emotion in her soft and +benevolent mind. Her health, and even the tranquillity of her hitherto +constant spirit, had been shaken by what she had gone through. During +the two years that had elapsed previous to their marriage my father had +gradually relinquished all his public functions; and immediately after +their union they sought the pleasant climate of Italy, and the change +of scene and interest attendant on a tour through that land of wonders, +as a restorative for her weakened frame. +

+ +

+From Italy they visited Germany and France. I, their eldest child, was +born at Naples, and as an infant accompanied them in their rambles. I +remained for several years their only child. Much as they were +attached to each other, they seemed to draw inexhaustible stores of +affection from a very mine of love to bestow them upon me. My mother's +tender caresses and my father's smile of benevolent pleasure while +regarding me are my first recollections. I was their plaything and +their idol, and something better—their child, the innocent and +helpless creature bestowed on them by heaven, whom to bring up to good, +and whose future lot it was in their hands to direct to happiness or +misery, according as they fulfilled their duties towards me. With this +deep consciousness of what they owed towards the being to which they +had given life, added to the active spirit of tenderness that animated +both, it may be imagined that while during every hour of my infant life +I received a lesson of patience, of charity, and of self-control, I was +so guided by a silken cord that all seemed but one train of enjoyment +to me. For a long time I was their only care. My mother had much +desired to have a daughter, but I continued their single offspring. +When I was about five years old, while making an excursion beyond the +frontiers of Italy, they passed a week on the shores of the Lake of +Como. Their benevolent disposition often made them enter the cottages +of the poor. This, to my mother, was more than a duty; it was a +necessity, a passion—remembering what she had suffered, and how she +had been relieved—for her to act in her turn the guardian angel to the +afflicted. During one of their walks a poor cot in the foldings of a +vale attracted their notice as being singularly disconsolate, while the +number of half-clothed children gathered about it spoke of penury in +its worst shape. One day, when my father had gone by himself to Milan, +my mother, accompanied by me, visited this abode. She found a peasant +and his wife, hard working, bent down by care and labour, distributing +a scanty meal to five hungry babes. Among these there was one which +attracted my mother far above all the rest. She appeared of a +different stock. The four others were dark-eyed, hardy little +vagrants; this child was thin and very fair. Her hair was the +brightest living gold, and despite the poverty of her clothing, seemed +to set a crown of distinction on her head. Her brow was clear and +ample, her blue eyes cloudless, and her lips and the moulding of her +face so expressive of sensibility and sweetness that none could behold +her without looking on her as of a distinct species, a being +heaven-sent, and bearing a celestial stamp in all her features. The +peasant woman, perceiving that my mother fixed eyes of wonder and +admiration on this lovely girl, eagerly communicated her history. She +was not her child, but the daughter of a Milanese nobleman. Her mother +was a German and had died on giving her birth. The infant had been +placed with these good people to nurse: they were better off then. +They had not been long married, and their eldest child was but just +born. The father of their charge was one of those Italians nursed in +the memory of the antique glory of Italy—one among the schiavi ognor +frementi, who exerted himself to obtain the liberty of his country. He +became the victim of its weakness. Whether he had died or still +lingered in the dungeons of Austria was not known. His property was +confiscated; his child became an orphan and a beggar. She continued +with her foster parents and bloomed in their rude abode, fairer than a +garden rose among dark-leaved brambles. When my father returned from +Milan, he found playing with me in the hall of our villa a child fairer +than pictured cherub—a creature who seemed to shed radiance from her +looks and whose form and motions were lighter than the chamois of the +hills. The apparition was soon explained. With his permission my +mother prevailed on her rustic guardians to yield their charge to her. +They were fond of the sweet orphan. Her presence had seemed a blessing +to them, but it would be unfair to her to keep her in poverty and want +when Providence afforded her such powerful protection. They consulted +their village priest, and the result was that Elizabeth Lavenza became +the inmate of my parents' house—my more than sister—the beautiful and +adored companion of all my occupations and my pleasures. +

+ +

+Everyone loved Elizabeth. The passionate and almost reverential +attachment with which all regarded her became, while I shared it, my +pride and my delight. On the evening previous to her being brought to +my home, my mother had said playfully, "I have a pretty present for my +Victor—tomorrow he shall have it." And when, on the morrow, she +presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish +seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth +as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on +her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other +familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body +forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than +sister, since till death she was to be mine only. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 2 +

+ +

+We were brought up together; there was not quite a year difference in +our ages. I need not say that we were strangers to any species of +disunion or dispute. Harmony was the soul of our companionship, and +the diversity and contrast that subsisted in our characters drew us +nearer together. Elizabeth was of a calmer and more concentrated +disposition; but, with all my ardour, I was capable of a more intense +application and was more deeply smitten with the thirst for knowledge. +She busied herself with following the aerial creations of the poets; +and in the majestic and wondrous scenes which surrounded our Swiss home +—the sublime shapes of the mountains, the changes of the seasons, +tempest and calm, the silence of winter, and the life and turbulence of +our Alpine summers—she found ample scope for admiration and delight. +While my companion contemplated with a serious and satisfied spirit the +magnificent appearances of things, I delighted in investigating their +causes. The world was to me a secret which I desired to divine. +Curiosity, earnest research to learn the hidden laws of nature, +gladness akin to rapture, as they were unfolded to me, are among the +earliest sensations I can remember. +

+ +

+On the birth of a second son, my junior by seven years, my parents gave +up entirely their wandering life and fixed themselves in their native +country. We possessed a house in Geneva, and a campagne on Belrive, +the eastern shore of the lake, at the distance of rather more than a +league from the city. We resided principally in the latter, and the +lives of my parents were passed in considerable seclusion. It was my +temper to avoid a crowd and to attach myself fervently to a few. I was +indifferent, therefore, to my school-fellows in general; but I united +myself in the bonds of the closest friendship to one among them. Henry +Clerval was the son of a merchant of Geneva. He was a boy of singular +talent and fancy. He loved enterprise, hardship, and even danger for +its own sake. He was deeply read in books of chivalry and romance. He +composed heroic songs and began to write many a tale of enchantment and +knightly adventure. He tried to make us act plays and to enter into +masquerades, in which the characters were drawn from the heroes of +Roncesvalles, of the Round Table of King Arthur, and the chivalrous +train who shed their blood to redeem the holy sepulchre from the hands +of the infidels. +

+ +

+No human being could have passed a happier childhood than myself. My +parents were possessed by the very spirit of kindness and indulgence. +We felt that they were not the tyrants to rule our lot according to +their caprice, but the agents and creators of all the many delights +which we enjoyed. When I mingled with other families I distinctly +discerned how peculiarly fortunate my lot was, and gratitude assisted +the development of filial love. +

+ +

+My temper was sometimes violent, and my passions vehement; but by some +law in my temperature they were turned not towards childish pursuits +but to an eager desire to learn, and not to learn all things +indiscriminately. I confess that neither the structure of languages, +nor the code of governments, nor the politics of various states +possessed attractions for me. It was the secrets of heaven and earth +that I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance of +things or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man +that occupied me, still my inquiries were directed to the metaphysical, +or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world. +

+ +

+Meanwhile Clerval occupied himself, so to speak, with the moral +relations of things. The busy stage of life, the virtues of heroes, +and the actions of men were his theme; and his hope and his dream was +to become one among those whose names are recorded in story as the +gallant and adventurous benefactors of our species. The saintly soul +of Elizabeth shone like a shrine-dedicated lamp in our peaceful home. +Her sympathy was ours; her smile, her soft voice, the sweet glance of +her celestial eyes, were ever there to bless and animate us. She was +the living spirit of love to soften and attract; I might have become +sullen in my study, rought through the ardour of my nature, but that +she was there to subdue me to a semblance of her own gentleness. And +Clerval—could aught ill entrench on the noble spirit of Clerval? Yet +he might not have been so perfectly humane, so thoughtful in his +generosity, so full of kindness and tenderness amidst his passion for +adventurous exploit, had she not unfolded to him the real loveliness of +beneficence and made the doing good the end and aim of his soaring +ambition. +

+ +

+I feel exquisite pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of +childhood, before misfortune had tainted my mind and changed its bright +visions of extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon +self. Besides, in drawing the picture of my early days, I also record +those events which led, by insensible steps, to my after tale of +misery, for when I would account to myself for the birth of that +passion which afterwards ruled my destiny I find it arise, like a +mountain river, from ignoble and almost forgotten sources; but, +swelling as it proceeded, it became the torrent which, in its course, +has swept away all my hopes and joys. Natural philosophy is the genius +that has regulated my fate; I desire, therefore, in this narration, to +state those facts which led to my predilection for that science. When +I was thirteen years of age we all went on a party of pleasure to the +baths near Thonon; the inclemency of the weather obliged us to remain a +day confined to the inn. In this house I chanced to find a volume of +the works of Cornelius Agrippa. I opened it with apathy; the theory +which he attempts to demonstrate and the wonderful facts which he +relates soon changed this feeling into enthusiasm. A new light seemed +to dawn upon my mind, and bounding with joy, I communicated my +discovery to my father. My father looked carelessly at the title page +of my book and said, "Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do not +waste your time upon this; it is sad trash." +

+ +

+If, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains to explain to +me that the principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded and that a +modern system of science had been introduced which possessed much +greater powers than the ancient, because the powers of the latter were +chimerical, while those of the former were real and practical, under +such circumstances I should certainly have thrown Agrippa aside and +have contented my imagination, warmed as it was, by returning with +greater ardour to my former studies. It is even possible that the +train of my ideas would never have received the fatal impulse that led +to my ruin. But the cursory glance my father had taken of my volume by +no means assured me that he was acquainted with its contents, and I +continued to read with the greatest avidity. When I returned home my +first care was to procure the whole works of this author, and +afterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. I read and studied the +wild fancies of these writers with delight; they appeared to me +treasures known to few besides myself. I have described myself as +always having been imbued with a fervent longing to penetrate the +secrets of nature. In spite of the intense labour and wonderful +discoveries of modern philosophers, I always came from my studies +discontented and unsatisfied. Sir Isaac Newton is said to have avowed +that he felt like a child picking up shells beside the great and +unexplored ocean of truth. Those of his successors in each branch of +natural philosophy with whom I was acquainted appeared even to my boy's +apprehensions as tyros engaged in the same pursuit. +

+ +

+The untaught peasant beheld the elements around him and was acquainted +with their practical uses. The most learned philosopher knew little +more. He had partially unveiled the face of Nature, but her immortal +lineaments were still a wonder and a mystery. He might dissect, +anatomize, and give names; but, not to speak of a final cause, causes +in their secondary and tertiary grades were utterly unknown to him. I +had gazed upon the fortifications and impediments that seemed to keep +human beings from entering the citadel of nature, and rashly and +ignorantly I had repined. +

+ +

+But here were books, and here were men who had penetrated deeper and +knew more. I took their word for all that they averred, and I became +their disciple. It may appear strange that such should arise in the +eighteenth century; but while I followed the routine of education in +the schools of Geneva, I was, to a great degree, self-taught with +regard to my favourite studies. My father was not scientific, and I +was left to struggle with a child's blindness, added to a student's +thirst for knowledge. Under the guidance of my new preceptors I +entered with the greatest diligence into the search of the +philosopher's stone and the elixir of life; but the latter soon +obtained my undivided attention. Wealth was an inferior object, but +what glory would attend the discovery if I could banish disease from +the human frame and render man invulnerable to any but a violent death! +Nor were these my only visions. The raising of ghosts or devils was a +promise liberally accorded by my favourite authors, the fulfilment of +which I most eagerly sought; and if my incantations were always +unsuccessful, I attributed the failure rather to my own inexperience +and mistake than to a want of skill or fidelity in my instructors. And +thus for a time I was occupied by exploded systems, mingling, like an +unadept, a thousand contradictory theories and floundering desperately +in a very slough of multifarious knowledge, guided by an ardent +imagination and childish reasoning, till an accident again changed the +current of my ideas. When I was about fifteen years old we had retired +to our house near Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent and +terrible thunderstorm. It advanced from behind the mountains of Jura, +and the thunder burst at once with frightful loudness from various +quarters of the heavens. I remained, while the storm lasted, watching +its progress with curiosity and delight. As I stood at the door, on a +sudden I beheld a stream of fire issue from an old and beautiful oak +which stood about twenty yards from our house; and so soon as the +dazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing remained +but a blasted stump. When we visited it the next morning, we found the +tree shattered in a singular manner. It was not splintered by the +shock, but entirely reduced to thin ribbons of wood. I never beheld +anything so utterly destroyed. +

+ +

+Before this I was not unacquainted with the more obvious laws of +electricity. On this occasion a man of great research in natural +philosophy was with us, and excited by this catastrophe, he entered on +the explanation of a theory which he had formed on the subject of +electricity and galvanism, which was at once new and astonishing to me. +All that he said threw greatly into the shade Cornelius Agrippa, +Albertus Magnus, and Paracelsus, the lords of my imagination; but by +some fatality the overthrow of these men disinclined me to pursue my +accustomed studies. It seemed to me as if nothing would or could ever +be known. All that had so long engaged my attention suddenly grew +despicable. By one of those caprices of the mind which we are perhaps +most subject to in early youth, I at once gave up my former +occupations, set down natural history and all its progeny as a deformed +and abortive creation, and entertained the greatest disdain for a +would-be science which could never even step within the threshold of +real knowledge. In this mood of mind I betook myself to the +mathematics and the branches of study appertaining to that science as +being built upon secure foundations, and so worthy of my consideration. +

+ +

+Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by such slight ligaments +are we bound to prosperity or ruin. When I look back, it seems to me +as if this almost miraculous change of inclination and will was the +immediate suggestion of the guardian angel of my life—the last effort +made by the spirit of preservation to avert the storm that was even +then hanging in the stars and ready to envelop me. Her victory was +announced by an unusual tranquillity and gladness of soul which +followed the relinquishing of my ancient and latterly tormenting +studies. It was thus that I was to be taught to associate evil with +their prosecution, happiness with their disregard. +

+ +

+It was a strong effort of the spirit of good, but it was ineffectual. +Destiny was too potent, and her immutable laws had decreed my utter and +terrible destruction. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 3 +

+ +

+When I had attained the age of seventeen my parents resolved that I +should become a student at the university of Ingolstadt. I had +hitherto attended the schools of Geneva, but my father thought it +necessary for the completion of my education that I should be made +acquainted with other customs than those of my native country. My +departure was therefore fixed at an early date, but before the day +resolved upon could arrive, the first misfortune of my life +occurred—an omen, as it were, of my future misery. Elizabeth had +caught the scarlet fever; her illness was severe, and she was in the +greatest danger. During her illness many arguments had been urged to +persuade my mother to refrain from attending upon her. She had at +first yielded to our entreaties, but when she heard that the life of +her favourite was menaced, she could no longer control her anxiety. She +attended her sickbed; her watchful attentions triumphed over the +malignity of the distemper—Elizabeth was saved, but the consequences +of this imprudence were fatal to her preserver. On the third day my +mother sickened; her fever was accompanied by the most alarming +symptoms, and the looks of her medical attendants prognosticated the +worst event. On her deathbed the fortitude and benignity of this best +of women did not desert her. She joined the hands of Elizabeth and +myself. "My children," she said, "my firmest hopes of future happiness +were placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will now +be the consolation of your father. Elizabeth, my love, you must supply +my place to my younger children. Alas! I regret that I am taken from +you; and, happy and beloved as I have been, is it not hard to quit you +all? But these are not thoughts befitting me; I will endeavour to +resign myself cheerfully to death and will indulge a hope of meeting +you in another world." +

+ +

+She died calmly, and her countenance expressed affection even in death. +I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent +by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the +soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so +long before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw every day +and whose very existence appeared a part of our own can have departed +forever—that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been +extinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear +can be hushed, never more to be heard. These are the reflections of +the first days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of the +evil, then the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom has +not that rude hand rent away some dear connection? And why should I +describe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time at +length arrives when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and +the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a +sacrilege, is not banished. My mother was dead, but we had still +duties which we ought to perform; we must continue our course with the +rest and learn to think ourselves fortunate whilst one remains whom the +spoiler has not seized. +

+ +

+My departure for Ingolstadt, which had been deferred by these events, +was now again determined upon. I obtained from my father a respite of +some weeks. It appeared to me sacrilege so soon to leave the repose, +akin to death, of the house of mourning and to rush into the thick of +life. I was new to sorrow, but it did not the less alarm me. I was +unwilling to quit the sight of those that remained to me, and above +all, I desired to see my sweet Elizabeth in some degree consoled. +

+ +

+She indeed veiled her grief and strove to act the comforter to us all. +She looked steadily on life and assumed its duties with courage and +zeal. She devoted herself to those whom she had been taught to call +her uncle and cousins. Never was she so enchanting as at this time, +when she recalled the sunshine of her smiles and spent them upon us. +She forgot even her own regret in her endeavours to make us forget. +

+ +

+The day of my departure at length arrived. Clerval spent the last +evening with us. He had endeavoured to persuade his father to permit +him to accompany me and to become my fellow student, but in vain. His +father was a narrow-minded trader and saw idleness and ruin in the +aspirations and ambition of his son. Henry deeply felt the misfortune +of being debarred from a liberal education. He said little, but when +he spoke I read in his kindling eye and in his animated glance a +restrained but firm resolve not to be chained to the miserable details +of commerce. +

+ +

+We sat late. We could not tear ourselves away from each other nor +persuade ourselves to say the word "Farewell!" It was said, and we +retired under the pretence of seeking repose, each fancying that the +other was deceived; but when at morning's dawn I descended to the +carriage which was to convey me away, they were all there—my father +again to bless me, Clerval to press my hand once more, my Elizabeth to +renew her entreaties that I would write often and to bestow the last +feminine attentions on her playmate and friend. +

+ +

+I threw myself into the chaise that was to convey me away and indulged +in the most melancholy reflections. I, who had ever been surrounded by +amiable companions, continually engaged in endeavouring to bestow +mutual pleasure—I was now alone. In the university whither I was +going I must form my own friends and be my own protector. My life had +hitherto been remarkably secluded and domestic, and this had given me +invincible repugnance to new countenances. I loved my brothers, +Elizabeth, and Clerval; these were "old familiar faces," but I believed +myself totally unfitted for the company of strangers. Such were my +reflections as I commenced my journey; but as I proceeded, my spirits +and hopes rose. I ardently desired the acquisition of knowledge. I +had often, when at home, thought it hard to remain during my youth +cooped up in one place and had longed to enter the world and take my +station among other human beings. Now my desires were complied with, +and it would, indeed, have been folly to repent. +

+ +

+I had sufficient leisure for these and many other reflections during my +journey to Ingolstadt, which was long and fatiguing. At length the +high white steeple of the town met my eyes. I alighted and was +conducted to my solitary apartment to spend the evening as I pleased. +

+ +

+The next morning I delivered my letters of introduction and paid a +visit to some of the principal professors. Chance—or rather the evil +influence, the Angel of Destruction, which asserted omnipotent sway +over me from the moment I turned my reluctant steps from my father's +door—led me first to M. Krempe, professor of natural philosophy. He +was an uncouth man, but deeply imbued in the secrets of his science. He +asked me several questions concerning my progress in the different +branches of science appertaining to natural philosophy. I replied +carelessly, and partly in contempt, mentioned the names of my +alchemists as the principal authors I had studied. The professor +stared. "Have you," he said, "really spent your time in studying such +nonsense?" +

+ +

+I replied in the affirmative. "Every minute," continued M. Krempe with +warmth, "every instant that you have wasted on those books is utterly +and entirely lost. You have burdened your memory with exploded systems +and useless names. Good God! In what desert land have you lived, +where no one was kind enough to inform you that these fancies which you +have so greedily imbibed are a thousand years old and as musty as they +are ancient? I little expected, in this enlightened and scientific +age, to find a disciple of Albertus Magnus and Paracelsus. My dear +sir, you must begin your studies entirely anew." +

+ +

+So saying, he stepped aside and wrote down a list of several books +treating of natural philosophy which he desired me to procure, and +dismissed me after mentioning that in the beginning of the following +week he intended to commence a course of lectures upon natural +philosophy in its general relations, and that M. Waldman, a fellow +professor, would lecture upon chemistry the alternate days that he +omitted. +

+ +

+I returned home not disappointed, for I have said that I had long +considered those authors useless whom the professor reprobated; but I +returned not at all the more inclined to recur to these studies in any +shape. M. Krempe was a little squat man with a gruff voice and a +repulsive countenance; the teacher, therefore, did not prepossess me in +favour of his pursuits. In rather a too philosophical and connected a +strain, perhaps, I have given an account of the conclusions I had come +to concerning them in my early years. As a child I had not been +content with the results promised by the modern professors of natural +science. With a confusion of ideas only to be accounted for by my +extreme youth and my want of a guide on such matters, I had retrod the +steps of knowledge along the paths of time and exchanged the +discoveries of recent inquirers for the dreams of forgotten alchemists. +Besides, I had a contempt for the uses of modern natural philosophy. +It was very different when the masters of the science sought +immortality and power; such views, although futile, were grand; but now +the scene was changed. The ambition of the inquirer seemed to limit +itself to the annihilation of those visions on which my interest in +science was chiefly founded. I was required to exchange chimeras of +boundless grandeur for realities of little worth. +

+ +

+Such were my reflections during the first two or three days of my +residence at Ingolstadt, which were chiefly spent in becoming +acquainted with the localities and the principal residents in my new +abode. But as the ensuing week commenced, I thought of the information +which M. Krempe had given me concerning the lectures. And although I +could not consent to go and hear that little conceited fellow deliver +sentences out of a pulpit, I recollected what he had said of M. +Waldman, whom I had never seen, as he had hitherto been out of town. +

+ +

+Partly from curiosity and partly from idleness, I went into the +lecturing room, which M. Waldman entered shortly after. This professor +was very unlike his colleague. He appeared about fifty years of age, +but with an aspect expressive of the greatest benevolence; a few grey +hairs covered his temples, but those at the back of his head were +nearly black. His person was short but remarkably erect and his voice +the sweetest I had ever heard. He began his lecture by a +recapitulation of the history of chemistry and the various improvements +made by different men of learning, pronouncing with fervour the names +of the most distinguished discoverers. He then took a cursory view of +the present state of the science and explained many of its elementary +terms. After having made a few preparatory experiments, he concluded +with a panegyric upon modern chemistry, the terms of which I shall +never forget: "The ancient teachers of this science," said he, +"promised impossibilities and performed nothing. The modern masters +promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted and +that the elixir of life is a chimera but these philosophers, whose +hands seem only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over the +microscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrate +into the recesses of nature and show how she works in her +hiding-places. They ascend into the heavens; they have discovered how +the blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe. They have +acquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thunders +of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with +its own shadows." +

+ +

+Such were the professor's words—rather let me say such the words of +the fate—enounced to destroy me. As he went on I felt as if my soul +were grappling with a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys were +touched which formed the mechanism of my being; chord after chord was +sounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception, +one purpose. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of +Frankenstein—more, far more, will I achieve; treading in the steps +already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and +unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation. +

+ +

+I closed not my eyes that night. My internal being was in a state of +insurrection and turmoil; I felt that order would thence arise, but I +had no power to produce it. By degrees, after the morning's dawn, +sleep came. I awoke, and my yesternight's thoughts were as a dream. +There only remained a resolution to return to my ancient studies and to +devote myself to a science for which I believed myself to possess a +natural talent. On the same day I paid M. Waldman a visit. His +manners in private were even more mild and attractive than in public, +for there was a certain dignity in his mien during his lecture which in +his own house was replaced by the greatest affability and kindness. I +gave him pretty nearly the same account of my former pursuits as I had +given to his fellow professor. He heard with attention the little +narration concerning my studies and smiled at the names of Cornelius +Agrippa and Paracelsus, but without the contempt that M. Krempe had +exhibited. He said that "These were men to whose indefatigable zeal +modern philosophers were indebted for most of the foundations of their +knowledge. They had left to us, as an easier task, to give new names +and arrange in connected classifications the facts which they in a +great degree had been the instruments of bringing to light. The +labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever +fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind." I +listened to his statement, which was delivered without any presumption +or affectation, and then added that his lecture had removed my +prejudices against modern chemists; I expressed myself in measured +terms, with the modesty and deference due from a youth to his +instructor, without letting escape (inexperience in life would have +made me ashamed) any of the enthusiasm which stimulated my intended +labours. I requested his advice concerning the books I ought to +procure. +

+ +

+"I am happy," said M. Waldman, "to have gained a disciple; and if your +application equals your ability, I have no doubt of your success. +Chemistry is that branch of natural philosophy in which the greatest +improvements have been and may be made; it is on that account that I +have made it my peculiar study; but at the same time, I have not +neglected the other branches of science. A man would make but a very +sorry chemist if he attended to that department of human knowledge +alone. If your wish is to become really a man of science and not +merely a petty experimentalist, I should advise you to apply to every +branch of natural philosophy, including mathematics." He then took me +into his laboratory and explained to me the uses of his various +machines, instructing me as to what I ought to procure and promising me +the use of his own when I should have advanced far enough in the +science not to derange their mechanism. He also gave me the list of +books which I had requested, and I took my leave. +

+ +

+Thus ended a day memorable to me; it decided my future destiny. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 4 +

+ +

+From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the +most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation. +I read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination, +which modern inquirers have written on these subjects. I attended the +lectures and cultivated the acquaintance of the men of science of the +university, and I found even in M. Krempe a great deal of sound sense +and real information, combined, it is true, with a repulsive +physiognomy and manners, but not on that account the less valuable. In +M. Waldman I found a true friend. His gentleness was never tinged by +dogmatism, and his instructions were given with an air of frankness and +good nature that banished every idea of pedantry. In a thousand ways +he smoothed for me the path of knowledge and made the most abstruse +inquiries clear and facile to my apprehension. My application was at +first fluctuating and uncertain; it gained strength as I proceeded and +soon became so ardent and eager that the stars often disappeared in the +light of morning whilst I was yet engaged in my laboratory. +

+ +

+As I applied so closely, it may be easily conceived that my progress +was rapid. My ardour was indeed the astonishment of the students, and +my proficiency that of the masters. Professor Krempe often asked me, +with a sly smile, how Cornelius Agrippa went on, whilst M. Waldman +expressed the most heartfelt exultation in my progress. Two years +passed in this manner, during which I paid no visit to Geneva, but was +engaged, heart and soul, in the pursuit of some discoveries which I +hoped to make. None but those who have experienced them can conceive +of the enticements of science. In other studies you go as far as +others have gone before you, and there is nothing more to know; but in +a scientific pursuit there is continual food for discovery and wonder. +A mind of moderate capacity which closely pursues one study must +infallibly arrive at great proficiency in that study; and I, who +continually sought the attainment of one object of pursuit and was +solely wrapped up in this, improved so rapidly that at the end of two +years I made some discoveries in the improvement of some chemical +instruments, which procured me great esteem and admiration at the +university. When I had arrived at this point and had become as well +acquainted with the theory and practice of natural philosophy as +depended on the lessons of any of the professors at Ingolstadt, my +residence there being no longer conducive to my improvements, I thought +of returning to my friends and my native town, when an incident +happened that protracted my stay. +

+ +

+One of the phenomena which had peculiarly attracted my attention was +the structure of the human frame, and, indeed, any animal endued with +life. Whence, I often asked myself, did the principle of life proceed? +It was a bold question, and one which has ever been considered as a +mystery; yet with how many things are we upon the brink of becoming +acquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our +inquiries. I revolved these circumstances in my mind and determined +thenceforth to apply myself more particularly to those branches of +natural philosophy which relate to physiology. Unless I had been +animated by an almost supernatural enthusiasm, my application to this +study would have been irksome and almost intolerable. To examine the +causes of life, we must first have recourse to death. I became +acquainted with the science of anatomy, but this was not sufficient; I +must also observe the natural decay and corruption of the human body. +In my education my father had taken the greatest precautions that my +mind should be impressed with no supernatural horrors. I do not ever +remember to have trembled at a tale of superstition or to have feared +the apparition of a spirit. Darkness had no effect upon my fancy, and +a churchyard was to me merely the receptacle of bodies deprived of +life, which, from being the seat of beauty and strength, had become +food for the worm. Now I was led to examine the cause and progress of +this decay and forced to spend days and nights in vaults and +charnel-houses. My attention was fixed upon every object the most +insupportable to the delicacy of the human feelings. I saw how the +fine form of man was degraded and wasted; I beheld the corruption of +death succeed to the blooming cheek of life; I saw how the worm +inherited the wonders of the eye and brain. I paused, examining and +analysing all the minutiae of causation, as exemplified in the change +from life to death, and death to life, until from the midst of this +darkness a sudden light broke in upon me—a light so brilliant and +wondrous, yet so simple, that while I became dizzy with the immensity +of the prospect which it illustrated, I was surprised that among so +many men of genius who had directed their inquiries towards the same +science, that I alone should be reserved to discover so astonishing a +secret. +

+ +

+Remember, I am not recording the vision of a madman. The sun does not +more certainly shine in the heavens than that which I now affirm is +true. Some miracle might have produced it, yet the stages of the +discovery were distinct and probable. After days and nights of +incredible labour and fatigue, I succeeded in discovering the cause of +generation and life; nay, more, I became myself capable of bestowing +animation upon lifeless matter. +

+ +

+The astonishment which I had at first experienced on this discovery +soon gave place to delight and rapture. After so much time spent in +painful labour, to arrive at once at the summit of my desires was the +most gratifying consummation of my toils. But this discovery was so +great and overwhelming that all the steps by which I had been +progressively led to it were obliterated, and I beheld only the result. +What had been the study and desire of the wisest men since the creation +of the world was now within my grasp. Not that, like a magic scene, it +all opened upon me at once: the information I had obtained was of a +nature rather to direct my endeavours so soon as I should point them +towards the object of my search than to exhibit that object already +accomplished. I was like the Arabian who had been buried with the dead +and found a passage to life, aided only by one glimmering and seemingly +ineffectual light. +

+ +

+I see by your eagerness and the wonder and hope which your eyes +express, my friend, that you expect to be informed of the secret with +which I am acquainted; that cannot be; listen patiently until the end +of my story, and you will easily perceive why I am reserved upon that +subject. I will not lead you on, unguarded and ardent as I then was, +to your destruction and infallible misery. Learn from me, if not by my +precepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of +knowledge and how much happier that man is who believes his native town +to be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature +will allow. +

+ +

+When I found so astonishing a power placed within my hands, I hesitated +a long time concerning the manner in which I should employ it. +Although I possessed the capacity of bestowing animation, yet to +prepare a frame for the reception of it, with all its intricacies of +fibres, muscles, and veins, still remained a work of inconceivable +difficulty and labour. I doubted at first whether I should attempt the +creation of a being like myself, or one of simpler organization; but my +imagination was too much exalted by my first success to permit me to +doubt of my ability to give life to an animal as complex and wonderful +as man. The materials at present within my command hardly appeared +adequate to so arduous an undertaking, but I doubted not that I should +ultimately succeed. I prepared myself for a multitude of reverses; my +operations might be incessantly baffled, and at last my work be +imperfect, yet when I considered the improvement which every day takes +place in science and mechanics, I was encouraged to hope my present +attempts would at least lay the foundations of future success. Nor +could I consider the magnitude and complexity of my plan as any +argument of its impracticability. It was with these feelings that I +began the creation of a human being. As the minuteness of the parts +formed a great hindrance to my speed, I resolved, contrary to my first +intention, to make the being of a gigantic stature, that is to say, +about eight feet in height, and proportionably large. After having +formed this determination and having spent some months in successfully +collecting and arranging my materials, I began. +

+ +

+No one can conceive the variety of feelings which bore me onwards, like +a hurricane, in the first enthusiasm of success. Life and death +appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and +pour a torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would bless +me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would +owe their being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his +child so completely as I should deserve theirs. Pursuing these +reflections, I thought that if I could bestow animation upon lifeless +matter, I might in process of time (although I now found it impossible) +renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption. +

+ +

+These thoughts supported my spirits, while I pursued my undertaking +with unremitting ardour. My cheek had grown pale with study, and my +person had become emaciated with confinement. Sometimes, on the very +brink of certainty, I failed; yet still I clung to the hope which the +next day or the next hour might realize. One secret which I alone +possessed was the hope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon +gazed on my midnight labours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless +eagerness, I pursued nature to her hiding-places. Who shall conceive +the horrors of my secret toil as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps +of the grave or tortured the living animal to animate the lifeless +clay? My limbs now tremble, and my eyes swim with the remembrance; but +then a resistless and almost frantic impulse urged me forward; I seemed +to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit. It was +indeed but a passing trance, that only made me feel with renewed +acuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to operate, I had +returned to my old habits. I collected bones from charnel-houses and +disturbed, with profane fingers, the tremendous secrets of the human +frame. In a solitary chamber, or rather cell, at the top of the house, +and separated from all the other apartments by a gallery and staircase, +I kept my workshop of filthy creation; my eyeballs were starting from +their sockets in attending to the details of my employment. The +dissecting room and the slaughter-house furnished many of my materials; +and often did my human nature turn with loathing from my occupation, +whilst, still urged on by an eagerness which perpetually increased, I +brought my work near to a conclusion. +

+ +

+The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in +one pursuit. It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields +bestow a more plentiful harvest or the vines yield a more luxuriant +vintage, but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature. And the +same feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also +to forget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had +not seen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them, and I +well remembered the words of my father: "I know that while you are +pleased with yourself you will think of us with affection, and we shall +hear regularly from you. You must pardon me if I regard any +interruption in your correspondence as a proof that your other duties +are equally neglected." +

+ +

+I knew well therefore what would be my father's feelings, but I could +not tear my thoughts from my employment, loathsome in itself, but which +had taken an irresistible hold of my imagination. I wished, as it +were, to procrastinate all that related to my feelings of affection +until the great object, which swallowed up every habit of my nature, +should be completed. +

+ +

+I then thought that my father would be unjust if he ascribed my neglect +to vice or faultiness on my part, but I am now convinced that he was +justified in conceiving that I should not be altogether free from +blame. A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and +peaceful mind and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to +disturb his tranquillity. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledge +is an exception to this rule. If the study to which you apply yourself +has a tendency to weaken your affections and to destroy your taste for +those simple pleasures in which no alloy can possibly mix, then that +study is certainly unlawful, that is to say, not befitting the human +mind. If this rule were always observed; if no man allowed any pursuit +whatsoever to interfere with the tranquillity of his domestic +affections, Greece had not been enslaved, Caesar would have spared his +country, America would have been discovered more gradually, and the +empires of Mexico and Peru had not been destroyed. +

+ +

+But I forget that I am moralizing in the most interesting part of my +tale, and your looks remind me to proceed. My father made no reproach +in his letters and only took notice of my silence by inquiring into my +occupations more particularly than before. Winter, spring, and summer +passed away during my labours; but I did not watch the blossom or the +expanding leaves—sights which before always yielded me supreme +delight—so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation. The leaves of +that year had withered before my work drew near to a close, and now +every day showed me more plainly how well I had succeeded. But my +enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety, and I appeared rather like one +doomed by slavery to toil in the mines, or any other unwholesome trade +than an artist occupied by his favourite employment. Every night I was +oppressed by a slow fever, and I became nervous to a most painful +degree; the fall of a leaf startled me, and I shunned my fellow +creatures as if I had been guilty of a crime. Sometimes I grew alarmed +at the wreck I perceived that I had become; the energy of my purpose +alone sustained me: my labours would soon end, and I believed that +exercise and amusement would then drive away incipient disease; and I +promised myself both of these when my creation should be complete. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 5 +

+ +

+It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment +of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I +collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a +spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was +already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the +panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the +half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature +open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs. +

+ +

+How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate +the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to +form? His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as +beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered +the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous +black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these +luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, +that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which +they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips. +

+ +

+The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings +of human nature. I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole +purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this I had +deprived myself of rest and health. I had desired it with an ardour +that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty +of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my +heart. Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I +rushed out of the room and continued a long time traversing my +bed-chamber, unable to compose my mind to sleep. At length lassitude +succeeded to the tumult I had before endured, and I threw myself on the +bed in my clothes, endeavouring to seek a few moments of forgetfulness. +But it was in vain; I slept, indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest +dreams. I thought I saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in +the streets of Ingolstadt. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her, +but as I imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they became livid with +the hue of death; her features appeared to change, and I thought that I +held the corpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her +form, and I saw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel. +I started from my sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my +teeth chattered, and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim and +yellow light of the moon, as it forced its way through the window +shutters, I beheld the wretch—the miserable monster whom I had +created. He held up the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they +may be called, were fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some +inarticulate sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have +spoken, but I did not hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to +detain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs. I took refuge in the +courtyard belonging to the house which I inhabited, where I remained +during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest +agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if +it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which I +had so miserably given life. +

+ +

+Oh! No mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummy +again endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch. I +had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then, but when those +muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing +such as even Dante could not have conceived. +

+ +

+I passed the night wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly and +hardly that I felt the palpitation of every artery; at others, I nearly +sank to the ground through languor and extreme weakness. Mingled with +this horror, I felt the bitterness of disappointment; dreams that had +been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space were now become a +hell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so complete! +

+ +

+Morning, dismal and wet, at length dawned and discovered to my +sleepless and aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white steeple +and clock, which indicated the sixth hour. The porter opened the gates +of the court, which had that night been my asylum, and I issued into +the streets, pacing them with quick steps, as if I sought to avoid the +wretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present to my +view. I did not dare return to the apartment which I inhabited, but +felt impelled to hurry on, although drenched by the rain which poured +from a black and comfortless sky. +

+ +

+I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring by +bodily exercise to ease the load that weighed upon my mind. I +traversed the streets without any clear conception of where I was or +what I was doing. My heart palpitated in the sickness of fear, and I +hurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me: +

+ +
+ +

+ Like one who, on a lonely road,
+ Doth walk in fear and dread,
+ And, having once turned round, walks on,
+ And turns no more his head;
+ Because he knows a frightful fiend
+ Doth close behind him tread.
+
+ [Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner."]
+

+ +
+ +

+Continuing thus, I came at length opposite to the inn at which the +various diligences and carriages usually stopped. Here I paused, I +knew not why; but I remained some minutes with my eyes fixed on a coach +that was coming towards me from the other end of the street. As it +drew nearer I observed that it was the Swiss diligence; it stopped just +where I was standing, and on the door being opened, I perceived Henry +Clerval, who, on seeing me, instantly sprung out. "My dear +Frankenstein," exclaimed he, "how glad I am to see you! How fortunate +that you should be here at the very moment of my alighting!" +

+ +

+Nothing could equal my delight on seeing Clerval; his presence brought +back to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of home +so dear to my recollection. I grasped his hand, and in a moment forgot +my horror and misfortune; I felt suddenly, and for the first time +during many months, calm and serene joy. I welcomed my friend, +therefore, in the most cordial manner, and we walked towards my +college. Clerval continued talking for some time about our mutual +friends and his own good fortune in being permitted to come to +Ingolstadt. "You may easily believe," said he, "how great was the +difficulty to persuade my father that all necessary knowledge was not +comprised in the noble art of book-keeping; and, indeed, I believe I +left him incredulous to the last, for his constant answer to my +unwearied entreaties was the same as that of the Dutch schoolmaster in +The Vicar of Wakefield: 'I have ten thousand florins a year without +Greek, I eat heartily without Greek.' But his affection for me at +length overcame his dislike of learning, and he has permitted me to +undertake a voyage of discovery to the land of knowledge." +

+ +

+"It gives me the greatest delight to see you; but tell me how you left +my father, brothers, and Elizabeth." +

+ +

+"Very well, and very happy, only a little uneasy that they hear from +you so seldom. By the by, I mean to lecture you a little upon their +account myself. But, my dear Frankenstein," continued he, stopping +short and gazing full in my face, "I did not before remark how very ill +you appear; so thin and pale; you look as if you had been watching for +several nights." +

+ +

+"You have guessed right; I have lately been so deeply engaged in one +occupation that I have not allowed myself sufficient rest, as you see; +but I hope, I sincerely hope, that all these employments are now at an +end and that I am at length free." +

+ +

+I trembled excessively; I could not endure to think of, and far less to +allude to, the occurrences of the preceding night. I walked with a +quick pace, and we soon arrived at my college. I then reflected, and +the thought made me shiver, that the creature whom I had left in my +apartment might still be there, alive and walking about. I dreaded to +behold this monster, but I feared still more that Henry should see him. +Entreating him, therefore, to remain a few minutes at the bottom of the +stairs, I darted up towards my own room. My hand was already on the +lock of the door before I recollected myself. I then paused, and a +cold shivering came over me. I threw the door forcibly open, as +children are accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in +waiting for them on the other side; but nothing appeared. I stepped +fearfully in: the apartment was empty, and my bedroom was also freed +from its hideous guest. I could hardly believe that so great a good +fortune could have befallen me, but when I became assured that my enemy +had indeed fled, I clapped my hands for joy and ran down to Clerval. +

+ +

+We ascended into my room, and the servant presently brought breakfast; +but I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed +me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse +beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same +place; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed aloud. +Clerval at first attributed my unusual spirits to joy on his arrival, +but when he observed me more attentively, he saw a wildness in my eyes +for which he could not account, and my loud, unrestrained, heartless +laughter frightened and astonished him. +

+ +

+"My dear Victor," cried he, "what, for God's sake, is the matter? Do +not laugh in that manner. How ill you are! What is the cause of all +this?" +

+ +

+"Do not ask me," cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I +thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; "HE can tell. +Oh, save me! Save me!" I imagined that the monster seized me; I +struggled furiously and fell down in a fit. +

+ +

+Poor Clerval! What must have been his feelings? A meeting, which he +anticipated with such joy, so strangely turned to bitterness. But I +was not the witness of his grief, for I was lifeless and did not +recover my senses for a long, long time. +

+ +

+This was the commencement of a nervous fever which confined me for +several months. During all that time Henry was my only nurse. I +afterwards learned that, knowing my father's advanced age and unfitness +for so long a journey, and how wretched my sickness would make +Elizabeth, he spared them this grief by concealing the extent of my +disorder. He knew that I could not have a more kind and attentive +nurse than himself; and, firm in the hope he felt of my recovery, he +did not doubt that, instead of doing harm, he performed the kindest +action that he could towards them. +

+ +

+But I was in reality very ill, and surely nothing but the unbounded and +unremitting attentions of my friend could have restored me to life. +The form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was forever +before my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him. Doubtless my +words surprised Henry; he at first believed them to be the wanderings +of my disturbed imagination, but the pertinacity with which I +continually recurred to the same subject persuaded him that my disorder +indeed owed its origin to some uncommon and terrible event. +

+ +

+By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses that alarmed and +grieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I became +capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure, I +perceived that the fallen leaves had disappeared and that the young +buds were shooting forth from the trees that shaded my window. It was +a divine spring, and the season contributed greatly to my +convalescence. I felt also sentiments of joy and affection revive in +my bosom; my gloom disappeared, and in a short time I became as +cheerful as before I was attacked by the fatal passion. +

+ +

+"Dearest Clerval," exclaimed I, "how kind, how very good you are to me. +This whole winter, instead of being spent in study, as you promised +yourself, has been consumed in my sick room. How shall I ever repay +you? I feel the greatest remorse for the disappointment of which I +have been the occasion, but you will forgive me." +

+ +

+"You will repay me entirely if you do not discompose yourself, but get +well as fast as you can; and since you appear in such good spirits, I +may speak to you on one subject, may I not?" +

+ +

+I trembled. One subject! What could it be? Could he allude to an +object on whom I dared not even think? "Compose yourself," said +Clerval, who observed my change of colour, "I will not mention it if it +agitates you; but your father and cousin would be very happy if they +received a letter from you in your own handwriting. They hardly know +how ill you have been and are uneasy at your long silence." +

+ +

+"Is that all, my dear Henry? How could you suppose that my first +thought would not fly towards those dear, dear friends whom I love and +who are so deserving of my love?" +

+ +

+"If this is your present temper, my friend, you will perhaps be glad to +see a letter that has been lying here some days for you; it is from +your cousin, I believe." +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 6 +

+ +

+Clerval then put the following letter into my hands. It was from my +own Elizabeth: +

+ +

+"My dearest Cousin, +

+ +

+"You have been ill, very ill, and even the constant letters of dear +kind Henry are not sufficient to reassure me on your account. You are +forbidden to write—to hold a pen; yet one word from you, dear Victor, +is necessary to calm our apprehensions. For a long time I have thought +that each post would bring this line, and my persuasions have +restrained my uncle from undertaking a journey to Ingolstadt. I have +prevented his encountering the inconveniences and perhaps dangers of so +long a journey, yet how often have I regretted not being able to +perform it myself! I figure to myself that the task of attending on +your sickbed has devolved on some mercenary old nurse, who could never +guess your wishes nor minister to them with the care and affection of +your poor cousin. Yet that is over now: Clerval writes that indeed +you are getting better. I eagerly hope that you will confirm this +intelligence soon in your own handwriting. +

+ +

+"Get well—and return to us. You will find a happy, cheerful home and +friends who love you dearly. Your father's health is vigorous, and he +asks but to see you, but to be assured that you are well; and not a +care will ever cloud his benevolent countenance. How pleased you would +be to remark the improvement of our Ernest! He is now sixteen and full +of activity and spirit. He is desirous to be a true Swiss and to enter +into foreign service, but we cannot part with him, at least until his +elder brother returns to us. My uncle is not pleased with the idea of +a military career in a distant country, but Ernest never had your +powers of application. He looks upon study as an odious fetter; his +time is spent in the open air, climbing the hills or rowing on the +lake. I fear that he will become an idler unless we yield the point +and permit him to enter on the profession which he has selected. +

+ +

+"Little alteration, except the growth of our dear children, has taken +place since you left us. The blue lake and snow-clad mountains—they +never change; and I think our placid home and our contented hearts are +regulated by the same immutable laws. My trifling occupations take up +my time and amuse me, and I am rewarded for any exertions by seeing +none but happy, kind faces around me. Since you left us, but one +change has taken place in our little household. Do you remember on +what occasion Justine Moritz entered our family? Probably you do not; +I will relate her history, therefore in a few words. Madame Moritz, +her mother, was a widow with four children, of whom Justine was the +third. This girl had always been the favourite of her father, but +through a strange perversity, her mother could not endure her, and +after the death of M. Moritz, treated her very ill. My aunt observed +this, and when Justine was twelve years of age, prevailed on her mother +to allow her to live at our house. The republican institutions of our +country have produced simpler and happier manners than those which +prevail in the great monarchies that surround it. Hence there is less +distinction between the several classes of its inhabitants; and the +lower orders, being neither so poor nor so despised, their manners are +more refined and moral. A servant in Geneva does not mean the same +thing as a servant in France and England. Justine, thus received in +our family, learned the duties of a servant, a condition which, in our +fortunate country, does not include the idea of ignorance and a +sacrifice of the dignity of a human being. +

+ +

+"Justine, you may remember, was a great favourite of yours; and I +recollect you once remarked that if you were in an ill humour, one +glance from Justine could dissipate it, for the same reason that +Ariosto gives concerning the beauty of Angelica—she looked so +frank-hearted and happy. My aunt conceived a great attachment for her, +by which she was induced to give her an education superior to that +which she had at first intended. This benefit was fully repaid; +Justine was the most grateful little creature in the world: I do not +mean that she made any professions I never heard one pass her lips, but +you could see by her eyes that she almost adored her protectress. +Although her disposition was gay and in many respects inconsiderate, +yet she paid the greatest attention to every gesture of my aunt. She +thought her the model of all excellence and endeavoured to imitate her +phraseology and manners, so that even now she often reminds me of her. +

+ +

+"When my dearest aunt died every one was too much occupied in their own +grief to notice poor Justine, who had attended her during her illness +with the most anxious affection. Poor Justine was very ill; but other +trials were reserved for her. +

+ +

+"One by one, her brothers and sister died; and her mother, with the +exception of her neglected daughter, was left childless. The +conscience of the woman was troubled; she began to think that the +deaths of her favourites was a judgement from heaven to chastise her +partiality. She was a Roman Catholic; and I believe her confessor +confirmed the idea which she had conceived. Accordingly, a few months +after your departure for Ingolstadt, Justine was called home by her +repentant mother. Poor girl! She wept when she quitted our house; she +was much altered since the death of my aunt; grief had given softness +and a winning mildness to her manners, which had before been remarkable +for vivacity. Nor was her residence at her mother's house of a nature +to restore her gaiety. The poor woman was very vacillating in her +repentance. She sometimes begged Justine to forgive her unkindness, +but much oftener accused her of having caused the deaths of her +brothers and sister. Perpetual fretting at length threw Madame Moritz +into a decline, which at first increased her irritability, but she is +now at peace for ever. She died on the first approach of cold weather, +at the beginning of this last winter. Justine has just returned to us; +and I assure you I love her tenderly. She is very clever and gentle, +and extremely pretty; as I mentioned before, her mien and her +expression continually remind me of my dear aunt. +

+ +

+"I must say also a few words to you, my dear cousin, of little darling +William. I wish you could see him; he is very tall of his age, with +sweet laughing blue eyes, dark eyelashes, and curling hair. When he +smiles, two little dimples appear on each cheek, which are rosy with +health. He has already had one or two little WIVES, but Louisa Biron +is his favourite, a pretty little girl of five years of age. +

+ +

+"Now, dear Victor, I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little +gossip concerning the good people of Geneva. The pretty Miss Mansfield +has already received the congratulatory visits on her approaching +marriage with a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her ugly +sister, Manon, married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your +favourite schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes +since the departure of Clerval from Geneva. But he has already +recovered his spirits, and is reported to be on the point of marrying a +lively pretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. She is a widow, and much +older than Manoir; but she is very much admired, and a favourite with +everybody. +

+ +

+"I have written myself into better spirits, dear cousin; but my anxiety +returns upon me as I conclude. Write, dearest Victor,—one line—one +word will be a blessing to us. Ten thousand thanks to Henry for his +kindness, his affection, and his many letters; we are sincerely +grateful. Adieu! my cousin; take care of your self; and, I entreat +you, write! +

+ +

+"Elizabeth Lavenza. +

+ +

+"Geneva, March 18, 17—." +

+ +
+ +

+"Dear, dear Elizabeth!" I exclaimed, when I had read her letter: "I +will write instantly and relieve them from the anxiety they must feel." +I wrote, and this exertion greatly fatigued me; but my convalescence +had commenced, and proceeded regularly. In another fortnight I was +able to leave my chamber. +

+ +

+One of my first duties on my recovery was to introduce Clerval to the +several professors of the university. In doing this, I underwent a +kind of rough usage, ill befitting the wounds that my mind had +sustained. Ever since the fatal night, the end of my labours, and the +beginning of my misfortunes, I had conceived a violent antipathy even +to the name of natural philosophy. When I was otherwise quite restored +to health, the sight of a chemical instrument would renew all the agony +of my nervous symptoms. Henry saw this, and had removed all my +apparatus from my view. He had also changed my apartment; for he +perceived that I had acquired a dislike for the room which had +previously been my laboratory. But these cares of Clerval were made of +no avail when I visited the professors. M. Waldman inflicted torture +when he praised, with kindness and warmth, the astonishing progress I +had made in the sciences. He soon perceived that I disliked the +subject; but not guessing the real cause, he attributed my feelings to +modesty, and changed the subject from my improvement, to the science +itself, with a desire, as I evidently saw, of drawing me out. What +could I do? He meant to please, and he tormented me. I felt as if he +had placed carefully, one by one, in my view those instruments which +were to be afterwards used in putting me to a slow and cruel death. I +writhed under his words, yet dared not exhibit the pain I felt. +Clerval, whose eyes and feelings were always quick in discerning the +sensations of others, declined the subject, alleging, in excuse, his +total ignorance; and the conversation took a more general turn. I +thanked my friend from my heart, but I did not speak. I saw plainly +that he was surprised, but he never attempted to draw my secret from +me; and although I loved him with a mixture of affection and reverence +that knew no bounds, yet I could never persuade myself to confide in +him that event which was so often present to my recollection, but which +I feared the detail to another would only impress more deeply. +

+ +

+M. Krempe was not equally docile; and in my condition at that time, of +almost insupportable sensitiveness, his harsh blunt encomiums gave me +even more pain than the benevolent approbation of M. Waldman. "D—n +the fellow!" cried he; "why, M. Clerval, I assure you he has outstript +us all. Ay, stare if you please; but it is nevertheless true. A +youngster who, but a few years ago, believed in Cornelius Agrippa as +firmly as in the gospel, has now set himself at the head of the +university; and if he is not soon pulled down, we shall all be out of +countenance.—Ay, ay," continued he, observing my face expressive of +suffering, "M. Frankenstein is modest; an excellent quality in a young +man. Young men should be diffident of themselves, you know, M. +Clerval: I was myself when young; but that wears out in a very short +time." +

+ +

+M. Krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself, which happily turned +the conversation from a subject that was so annoying to me. +

+ +

+Clerval had never sympathized in my tastes for natural science; and his +literary pursuits differed wholly from those which had occupied me. He +came to the university with the design of making himself complete +master of the oriental languages, and thus he should open a field for +the plan of life he had marked out for himself. Resolved to pursue no +inglorious career, he turned his eyes toward the East, as affording +scope for his spirit of enterprise. The Persian, Arabic, and Sanskrit +languages engaged his attention, and I was easily induced to enter on +the same studies. Idleness had ever been irksome to me, and now that I +wished to fly from reflection, and hated my former studies, I felt +great relief in being the fellow-pupil with my friend, and found not +only instruction but consolation in the works of the orientalists. I +did not, like him, attempt a critical knowledge of their dialects, for +I did not contemplate making any other use of them than temporary +amusement. I read merely to understand their meaning, and they well +repaid my labours. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy +elevating, to a degree I never experienced in studying the authors of +any other country. When you read their writings, life appears to +consist in a warm sun and a garden of roses,—in the smiles and frowns +of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes your own heart. How +different from the manly and heroical poetry of Greece and Rome! +

+ +

+Summer passed away in these occupations, and my return to Geneva was +fixed for the latter end of autumn; but being delayed by several +accidents, winter and snow arrived, the roads were deemed impassable, +and my journey was retarded until the ensuing spring. I felt this +delay very bitterly; for I longed to see my native town and my beloved +friends. My return had only been delayed so long, from an +unwillingness to leave Clerval in a strange place, before he had become +acquainted with any of its inhabitants. The winter, however, was spent +cheerfully; and although the spring was uncommonly late, when it came +its beauty compensated for its dilatoriness. +

+ +

+The month of May had already commenced, and I expected the letter daily +which was to fix the date of my departure, when Henry proposed a +pedestrian tour in the environs of Ingolstadt, that I might bid a +personal farewell to the country I had so long inhabited. I acceded +with pleasure to this proposition: I was fond of exercise, and Clerval +had always been my favourite companion in the ramble of this nature +that I had taken among the scenes of my native country. +

+ +

+We passed a fortnight in these perambulations: my health and spirits +had long been restored, and they gained additional strength from the +salubrious air I breathed, the natural incidents of our progress, and +the conversation of my friend. Study had before secluded me from the +intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial; but +Clerval called forth the better feelings of my heart; he again taught +me to love the aspect of nature, and the cheerful faces of children. +Excellent friend! how sincerely you did love me, and endeavour to +elevate my mind until it was on a level with your own. A selfish +pursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and +affection warmed and opened my senses; I became the same happy creature +who, a few years ago, loved and beloved by all, had no sorrow or care. +When happy, inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most +delightful sensations. A serene sky and verdant fields filled me with +ecstasy. The present season was indeed divine; the flowers of spring +bloomed in the hedges, while those of summer were already in bud. I +was undisturbed by thoughts which during the preceding year had pressed +upon me, notwithstanding my endeavours to throw them off, with an +invincible burden. +

+ +

+Henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerely sympathised in my feelings: +he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressed the sensations that +filled his soul. The resources of his mind on this occasion were truly +astonishing: his conversation was full of imagination; and very often, +in imitation of the Persian and Arabic writers, he invented tales of +wonderful fancy and passion. At other times he repeated my favourite +poems, or drew me out into arguments, which he supported with great +ingenuity. We returned to our college on a Sunday afternoon: the +peasants were dancing, and every one we met appeared gay and happy. My +own spirits were high, and I bounded along with feelings of unbridled +joy and hilarity. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 7 +

+ +

+On my return, I found the following letter from my father:— +

+ +
+ +

+"My dear Victor, +

+ +

+"You have probably waited impatiently for a letter to fix the date of +your return to us; and I was at first tempted to write only a few +lines, merely mentioning the day on which I should expect you. But +that would be a cruel kindness, and I dare not do it. What would be +your surprise, my son, when you expected a happy and glad welcome, to +behold, on the contrary, tears and wretchedness? And how, Victor, can +I relate our misfortune? Absence cannot have rendered you callous to +our joys and griefs; and how shall I inflict pain on my long absent +son? I wish to prepare you for the woeful news, but I know it is +impossible; even now your eye skims over the page to seek the words +which are to convey to you the horrible tidings. +

+ +

+"William is dead!—that sweet child, whose smiles delighted and warmed +my heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! Victor, he is murdered! +

+ +

+"I will not attempt to console you; but will simply relate the +circumstances of the transaction. +

+ +

+"Last Thursday (May 7th), I, my niece, and your two brothers, went to +walk in Plainpalais. The evening was warm and serene, and we prolonged +our walk farther than usual. It was already dusk before we thought of +returning; and then we discovered that William and Ernest, who had gone +on before, were not to be found. We accordingly rested on a seat until +they should return. Presently Ernest came, and enquired if we had seen +his brother; he said, that he had been playing with him, that William +had run away to hide himself, and that he vainly sought for him, and +afterwards waited for a long time, but that he did not return. +

+ +

+"This account rather alarmed us, and we continued to search for him +until night fell, when Elizabeth conjectured that he might have +returned to the house. He was not there. We returned again, with +torches; for I could not rest, when I thought that my sweet boy had +lost himself, and was exposed to all the damps and dews of night; +Elizabeth also suffered extreme anguish. About five in the morning I +discovered my lovely boy, whom the night before I had seen blooming and +active in health, stretched on the grass livid and motionless; the +print of the murder's finger was on his neck. +

+ +

+"He was conveyed home, and the anguish that was visible in my +countenance betrayed the secret to Elizabeth. She was very earnest to +see the corpse. At first I attempted to prevent her but she persisted, +and entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck of the +victim, and clasping her hands exclaimed, 'O God! I have murdered my +darling child!' +

+ +

+"She fainted, and was restored with extreme difficulty. When she again +lived, it was only to weep and sigh. She told me, that that same +evening William had teased her to let him wear a very valuable +miniature that she possessed of your mother. This picture is gone, and +was doubtless the temptation which urged the murderer to the deed. We +have no trace of him at present, although our exertions to discover him +are unremitted; but they will not restore my beloved William! +

+ +

+"Come, dearest Victor; you alone can console Elizabeth. She weeps +continually, and accuses herself unjustly as the cause of his death; +her words pierce my heart. We are all unhappy; but will not that be an +additional motive for you, my son, to return and be our comforter? +Your dear mother! Alas, Victor! I now say, Thank God she did not live +to witness the cruel, miserable death of her youngest darling! +

+ +

+"Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin, +but with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of +festering, the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, my +friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not +with hatred for your enemies. +

+ +

+ "Your affectionate and afflicted father,
+     "Alphonse Frankenstein.
+
+"Geneva, May 12th, 17—." +

+ +

+Clerval, who had watched my countenance as I read this letter, was +surprised to observe the despair that succeeded the joy I at first +expressed on receiving new from my friends. I threw the letter on the +table, and covered my face with my hands. +

+ +

+"My dear Frankenstein," exclaimed Henry, when he perceived me weep with +bitterness, "are you always to be unhappy? My dear friend, what has +happened?" +

+ +

+I motioned him to take up the letter, while I walked up and down the +room in the extremest agitation. Tears also gushed from the eyes of +Clerval, as he read the account of my misfortune. +

+ +

+"I can offer you no consolation, my friend," said he; "your disaster is +irreparable. What do you intend to do?" +

+ +

+"To go instantly to Geneva: come with me, Henry, to order the horses." +

+ +

+During our walk, Clerval endeavoured to say a few words of consolation; +he could only express his heartfelt sympathy. "Poor William!" said he, +"dear lovely child, he now sleeps with his angel mother! Who that had +seen him bright and joyous in his young beauty, but must weep over his +untimely loss! To die so miserably; to feel the murderer's grasp! How +much more a murdered that could destroy radiant innocence! Poor little +fellow! one only consolation have we; his friends mourn and weep, but +he is at rest. The pang is over, his sufferings are at an end for ever. +A sod covers his gentle form, and he knows no pain. He can no longer +be a subject for pity; we must reserve that for his miserable +survivors." +

+ +

+Clerval spoke thus as we hurried through the streets; the words +impressed themselves on my mind and I remembered them afterwards in +solitude. But now, as soon as the horses arrived, I hurried into a +cabriolet, and bade farewell to my friend. +

+ +

+My journey was very melancholy. At first I wished to hurry on, for I +longed to console and sympathise with my loved and sorrowing friends; +but when I drew near my native town, I slackened my progress. I could +hardly sustain the multitude of feelings that crowded into my mind. I +passed through scenes familiar to my youth, but which I had not seen +for nearly six years. How altered every thing might be during that +time! One sudden and desolating change had taken place; but a thousand +little circumstances might have by degrees worked other alterations, +which, although they were done more tranquilly, might not be the less +decisive. Fear overcame me; I dared no advance, dreading a thousand +nameless evils that made me tremble, although I was unable to define +them. I remained two days at Lausanne, in this painful state of mind. +I contemplated the lake: the waters were placid; all around was calm; +and the snowy mountains, 'the palaces of nature,' were not changed. By +degrees the calm and heavenly scene restored me, and I continued my +journey towards Geneva. +

+ +

+The road ran by the side of the lake, which became narrower as I +approached my native town. I discovered more distinctly the black +sides of Jura, and the bright summit of Mont Blanc. I wept like a +child. "Dear mountains! my own beautiful lake! how do you welcome your +wanderer? Your summits are clear; the sky and lake are blue and +placid. Is this to prognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?" +

+ +

+I fear, my friend, that I shall render myself tedious by dwelling on +these preliminary circumstances; but they were days of comparative +happiness, and I think of them with pleasure. My country, my beloved +country! who but a native can tell the delight I took in again +beholding thy streams, thy mountains, and, more than all, thy lovely +lake! +

+ +

+Yet, as I drew nearer home, grief and fear again overcame me. Night +also closed around; and when I could hardly see the dark mountains, I +felt still more gloomily. The picture appeared a vast and dim scene of +evil, and I foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the most +wretched of human beings. Alas! I prophesied truly, and failed only +in one single circumstance, that in all the misery I imagined and +dreaded, I did not conceive the hundredth part of the anguish I was +destined to endure. It was completely dark when I arrived in the +environs of Geneva; the gates of the town were already shut; and I was +obliged to pass the night at Secheron, a village at the distance of +half a league from the city. The sky was serene; and, as I was unable +to rest, I resolved to visit the spot where my poor William had been +murdered. As I could not pass through the town, I was obliged to cross +the lake in a boat to arrive at Plainpalais. During this short voyage +I saw the lightning playing on the summit of Mont Blanc in the most +beautiful figures. The storm appeared to approach rapidly, and, on +landing, I ascended a low hill, that I might observe its progress. It +advanced; the heavens were clouded, and I soon felt the rain coming +slowly in large drops, but its violence quickly increased. +

+ +

+I quitted my seat, and walked on, although the darkness and storm +increased every minute, and the thunder burst with a terrific crash +over my head. It was echoed from Saleve, the Juras, and the Alps of +Savoy; vivid flashes of lightning dazzled my eyes, illuminating the +lake, making it appear like a vast sheet of fire; then for an instant +every thing seemed of a pitchy darkness, until the eye recovered itself +from the preceding flash. The storm, as is often the case in +Switzerland, appeared at once in various parts of the heavens. The +most violent storm hung exactly north of the town, over the part of the +lake which lies between the promontory of Belrive and the village of +Copet. Another storm enlightened Jura with faint flashes; and another +darkened and sometimes disclosed the Mole, a peaked mountain to the +east of the lake. +

+ +

+While I watched the tempest, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered on +with a hasty step. This noble war in the sky elevated my spirits; I +clasped my hands, and exclaimed aloud, "William, dear angel! this is +thy funeral, this thy dirge!" As I said these words, I perceived in the +gloom a figure which stole from behind a clump of trees near me; I +stood fixed, gazing intently: I could not be mistaken. A flash of +lightning illuminated the object, and discovered its shape plainly to +me; its gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect more hideous +than belongs to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch, +the filthy daemon, to whom I had given life. What did he there? Could +he be (I shuddered at the conception) the murderer of my brother? No +sooner did that idea cross my imagination, than I became convinced of +its truth; my teeth chattered, and I was forced to lean against a tree +for support. The figure passed me quickly, and I lost it in the gloom. +

+ +

+Nothing in human shape could have destroyed the fair child. HE was the +murderer! I could not doubt it. The mere presence of the idea was an +irresistible proof of the fact. I thought of pursuing the devil; but +it would have been in vain, for another flash discovered him to me +hanging among the rocks of the nearly perpendicular ascent of Mont +Saleve, a hill that bounds Plainpalais on the south. He soon reached +the summit, and disappeared. +

+ +

+I remained motionless. The thunder ceased; but the rain still +continued, and the scene was enveloped in an impenetrable darkness. I +revolved in my mind the events which I had until now sought to forget: +the whole train of my progress toward the creation; the appearance of +the works of my own hands at my bedside; its departure. Two years had +now nearly elapsed since the night on which he first received life; and +was this his first crime? Alas! I had turned loose into the world a +depraved wretch, whose delight was in carnage and misery; had he not +murdered my brother? +

+ +

+No one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder of the +night, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air. But I did not +feel the inconvenience of the weather; my imagination was busy in +scenes of evil and despair. I considered the being whom I had cast +among mankind, and endowed with the will and power to effect purposes +of horror, such as the deed which he had now done, nearly in the light +of my own vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave, and forced +to destroy all that was dear to me. +

+ +

+Day dawned; and I directed my steps towards the town. The gates were +open, and I hastened to my father's house. My first thought was to +discover what I knew of the murderer, and cause instant pursuit to be +made. But I paused when I reflected on the story that I had to tell. A +being whom I myself had formed, and endued with life, had met me at +midnight among the precipices of an inaccessible mountain. I +remembered also the nervous fever with which I had been seized just at +the time that I dated my creation, and which would give an air of +delirium to a tale otherwise so utterly improbable. I well knew that +if any other had communicated such a relation to me, I should have +looked upon it as the ravings of insanity. Besides, the strange nature +of the animal would elude all pursuit, even if I were so far credited +as to persuade my relatives to commence it. And then of what use would +be pursuit? Who could arrest a creature capable of scaling the +overhanging sides of Mont Saleve? These reflections determined me, and +I resolved to remain silent. +

+ +

+It was about five in the morning when I entered my father's house. I +told the servants not to disturb the family, and went into the library +to attend their usual hour of rising. +

+ +

+Six years had elapsed, passed in a dream but for one indelible trace, +and I stood in the same place where I had last embraced my father +before my departure for Ingolstadt. Beloved and venerable parent! He +still remained to me. I gazed on the picture of my mother, which stood +over the mantel-piece. It was an historical subject, painted at my +father's desire, and represented Caroline Beaufort in an agony of +despair, kneeling by the coffin of her dead father. Her garb was +rustic, and her cheek pale; but there was an air of dignity and beauty, +that hardly permitted the sentiment of pity. Below this picture was a +miniature of William; and my tears flowed when I looked upon it. While +I was thus engaged, Ernest entered: he had heard me arrive, and +hastened to welcome me: "Welcome, my dearest Victor," said he. "Ah! I +wish you had come three months ago, and then you would have found us +all joyous and delighted. You come to us now to share a misery which +nothing can alleviate; yet you presence will, I hope, revive our +father, who seems sinking under his misfortune; and your persuasions +will induce poor Elizabeth to cease her vain and tormenting +self-accusations.—Poor William! he was our darling and our pride!" +

+ +

+Tears, unrestrained, fell from my brother's eyes; a sense of mortal +agony crept over my frame. Before, I had only imagined the +wretchedness of my desolated home; the reality came on me as a new, and +a not less terrible, disaster. I tried to calm Ernest; I enquired more +minutely concerning my father, and her I named my cousin. +

+ +

+"She most of all," said Ernest, "requires consolation; she accused +herself of having caused the death of my brother, and that made her +very wretched. But since the murderer has been discovered—" +

+ +

+"The murderer discovered! Good God! how can that be? who could attempt +to pursue him? It is impossible; one might as well try to overtake the +winds, or confine a mountain-stream with a straw. I saw him too; he +was free last night!" +

+ +

+"I do not know what you mean," replied my brother, in accents of +wonder, "but to us the discovery we have made completes our misery. No +one would believe it at first; and even now Elizabeth will not be +convinced, notwithstanding all the evidence. Indeed, who would credit +that Justine Moritz, who was so amiable, and fond of all the family, +could suddenly become so capable of so frightful, so appalling a crime?" +

+ +

+"Justine Moritz! Poor, poor girl, is she the accused? But it is +wrongfully; every one knows that; no one believes it, surely, Ernest?" +

+ +

+"No one did at first; but several circumstances came out, that have +almost forced conviction upon us; and her own behaviour has been so +confused, as to add to the evidence of facts a weight that, I fear, +leaves no hope for doubt. But she will be tried today, and you will +then hear all." +

+ +

+He then related that, the morning on which the murder of poor William +had been discovered, Justine had been taken ill, and confined to her +bed for several days. During this interval, one of the servants, +happening to examine the apparel she had worn on the night of the +murder, had discovered in her pocket the picture of my mother, which +had been judged to be the temptation of the murderer. The servant +instantly showed it to one of the others, who, without saying a word to +any of the family, went to a magistrate; and, upon their deposition, +Justine was apprehended. On being charged with the fact, the poor girl +confirmed the suspicion in a great measure by her extreme confusion of +manner. +

+ +

+This was a strange tale, but it did not shake my faith; and I replied +earnestly, "You are all mistaken; I know the murderer. Justine, poor, +good Justine, is innocent." +

+ +

+At that instant my father entered. I saw unhappiness deeply impressed +on his countenance, but he endeavoured to welcome me cheerfully; and, +after we had exchanged our mournful greeting, would have introduced +some other topic than that of our disaster, had not Ernest exclaimed, +"Good God, papa! Victor says that he knows who was the murderer of +poor William." +

+ +

+"We do also, unfortunately," replied my father, "for indeed I had +rather have been for ever ignorant than have discovered so much +depravity and ungratitude in one I valued so highly." +

+ +

+"My dear father, you are mistaken; Justine is innocent." +

+ +

+"If she is, God forbid that she should suffer as guilty. She is to be +tried today, and I hope, I sincerely hope, that she will be acquitted." +

+ +

+This speech calmed me. I was firmly convinced in my own mind that +Justine, and indeed every human being, was guiltless of this murder. I +had no fear, therefore, that any circumstantial evidence could be +brought forward strong enough to convict her. My tale was not one to +announce publicly; its astounding horror would be looked upon as +madness by the vulgar. Did any one indeed exist, except I, the +creator, who would believe, unless his senses convinced him, in the +existence of the living monument of presumption and rash ignorance +which I had let loose upon the world? +

+ +

+We were soon joined by Elizabeth. Time had altered her since I last +beheld her; it had endowed her with loveliness surpassing the beauty of +her childish years. There was the same candour, the same vivacity, but +it was allied to an expression more full of sensibility and intellect. +She welcomed me with the greatest affection. "Your arrival, my dear +cousin," said she, "fills me with hope. You perhaps will find some +means to justify my poor guiltless Justine. Alas! who is safe, if she +be convicted of crime? I rely on her innocence as certainly as I do +upon my own. Our misfortune is doubly hard to us; we have not only +lost that lovely darling boy, but this poor girl, whom I sincerely +love, is to be torn away by even a worse fate. If she is condemned, I +never shall know joy more. But she will not, I am sure she will not; +and then I shall be happy again, even after the sad death of my little +William." +

+ +

+"She is innocent, my Elizabeth," said I, "and that shall be proved; +fear nothing, but let your spirits be cheered by the assurance of her +acquittal." +

+ +

+"How kind and generous you are! every one else believes in her guilt, +and that made me wretched, for I knew that it was impossible: and to +see every one else prejudiced in so deadly a manner rendered me +hopeless and despairing." She wept. +

+ +

+"Dearest niece," said my father, "dry your tears. If she is, as you +believe, innocent, rely on the justice of our laws, and the activity +with which I shall prevent the slightest shadow of partiality." +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 8 +

+ +

+We passed a few sad hours until eleven o'clock, when the trial was to +commence. My father and the rest of the family being obliged to attend +as witnesses, I accompanied them to the court. During the whole of +this wretched mockery of justice I suffered living torture. It was to +be decided whether the result of my curiosity and lawless devices would +cause the death of two of my fellow beings: one a smiling babe full of +innocence and joy, the other far more dreadfully murdered, with every +aggravation of infamy that could make the murder memorable in horror. +Justine also was a girl of merit and possessed qualities which promised +to render her life happy; now all was to be obliterated in an +ignominious grave, and I the cause! A thousand times rather would I +have confessed myself guilty of the crime ascribed to Justine, but I +was absent when it was committed, and such a declaration would have +been considered as the ravings of a madman and would not have +exculpated her who suffered through me. +

+ +

+The appearance of Justine was calm. She was dressed in mourning, and +her countenance, always engaging, was rendered, by the solemnity of her +feelings, exquisitely beautiful. Yet she appeared confident in +innocence and did not tremble, although gazed on and execrated by +thousands, for all the kindness which her beauty might otherwise have +excited was obliterated in the minds of the spectators by the +imagination of the enormity she was supposed to have committed. She +was tranquil, yet her tranquillity was evidently constrained; and as +her confusion had before been adduced as a proof of her guilt, she +worked up her mind to an appearance of courage. When she entered the +court she threw her eyes round it and quickly discovered where we were +seated. A tear seemed to dim her eye when she saw us, but she quickly +recovered herself, and a look of sorrowful affection seemed to attest +her utter guiltlessness. +

+ +

+The trial began, and after the advocate against her had stated the +charge, several witnesses were called. Several strange facts combined +against her, which might have staggered anyone who had not such proof +of her innocence as I had. She had been out the whole of the night on +which the murder had been committed and towards morning had been +perceived by a market-woman not far from the spot where the body of the +murdered child had been afterwards found. The woman asked her what she +did there, but she looked very strangely and only returned a confused +and unintelligible answer. She returned to the house about eight +o'clock, and when one inquired where she had passed the night, she +replied that she had been looking for the child and demanded earnestly +if anything had been heard concerning him. When shown the body, she +fell into violent hysterics and kept her bed for several days. The +picture was then produced which the servant had found in her pocket; +and when Elizabeth, in a faltering voice, proved that it was the same +which, an hour before the child had been missed, she had placed round +his neck, a murmur of horror and indignation filled the court. +

+ +

+Justine was called on for her defence. As the trial had proceeded, her +countenance had altered. Surprise, horror, and misery were strongly +expressed. Sometimes she struggled with her tears, but when she was +desired to plead, she collected her powers and spoke in an audible +although variable voice. +

+ +

+"God knows," she said, "how entirely I am innocent. But I do not +pretend that my protestations should acquit me; I rest my innocence on +a plain and simple explanation of the facts which have been adduced +against me, and I hope the character I have always borne will incline +my judges to a favourable interpretation where any circumstance appears +doubtful or suspicious." +

+ +

+She then related that, by the permission of Elizabeth, she had passed +the evening of the night on which the murder had been committed at the +house of an aunt at Chene, a village situated at about a league from +Geneva. On her return, at about nine o'clock, she met a man who asked +her if she had seen anything of the child who was lost. She was +alarmed by this account and passed several hours in looking for him, +when the gates of Geneva were shut, and she was forced to remain +several hours of the night in a barn belonging to a cottage, being +unwilling to call up the inhabitants, to whom she was well known. Most +of the night she spent here watching; towards morning she believed that +she slept for a few minutes; some steps disturbed her, and she awoke. +It was dawn, and she quitted her asylum, that she might again endeavour +to find my brother. If she had gone near the spot where his body lay, +it was without her knowledge. That she had been bewildered when +questioned by the market-woman was not surprising, since she had passed +a sleepless night and the fate of poor William was yet uncertain. +Concerning the picture she could give no account. +

+ +

+"I know," continued the unhappy victim, "how heavily and fatally this +one circumstance weighs against me, but I have no power of explaining +it; and when I have expressed my utter ignorance, I am only left to +conjecture concerning the probabilities by which it might have been +placed in my pocket. But here also I am checked. I believe that I +have no enemy on earth, and none surely would have been so wicked as to +destroy me wantonly. Did the murderer place it there? I know of no +opportunity afforded him for so doing; or, if I had, why should he have +stolen the jewel, to part with it again so soon? +

+ +

+"I commit my cause to the justice of my judges, yet I see no room for +hope. I beg permission to have a few witnesses examined concerning my +character, and if their testimony shall not overweigh my supposed +guilt, I must be condemned, although I would pledge my salvation on my +innocence." +

+ +

+Several witnesses were called who had known her for many years, and +they spoke well of her; but fear and hatred of the crime of which they +supposed her guilty rendered them timorous and unwilling to come +forward. Elizabeth saw even this last resource, her excellent +dispositions and irreproachable conduct, about to fail the accused, +when, although violently agitated, she desired permission to address +the court. +

+ +

+"I am," said she, "the cousin of the unhappy child who was murdered, or +rather his sister, for I was educated by and have lived with his +parents ever since and even long before his birth. It may therefore be +judged indecent in me to come forward on this occasion, but when I see +a fellow creature about to perish through the cowardice of her +pretended friends, I wish to be allowed to speak, that I may say what I +know of her character. I am well acquainted with the accused. I have +lived in the same house with her, at one time for five and at another +for nearly two years. During all that period she appeared to me the +most amiable and benevolent of human creatures. She nursed Madame +Frankenstein, my aunt, in her last illness, with the greatest affection +and care and afterwards attended her own mother during a tedious +illness, in a manner that excited the admiration of all who knew her, +after which she again lived in my uncle's house, where she was beloved +by all the family. She was warmly attached to the child who is now +dead and acted towards him like a most affectionate mother. For my own +part, I do not hesitate to say that, notwithstanding all the evidence +produced against her, I believe and rely on her perfect innocence. She +had no temptation for such an action; as to the bauble on which the +chief proof rests, if she had earnestly desired it, I should have +willingly given it to her, so much do I esteem and value her." +

+ +

+A murmur of approbation followed Elizabeth's simple and powerful +appeal, but it was excited by her generous interference, and not in +favour of poor Justine, on whom the public indignation was turned with +renewed violence, charging her with the blackest ingratitude. She +herself wept as Elizabeth spoke, but she did not answer. My own +agitation and anguish was extreme during the whole trial. I believed +in her innocence; I knew it. Could the demon who had (I did not for a +minute doubt) murdered my brother also in his hellish sport have +betrayed the innocent to death and ignominy? I could not sustain the +horror of my situation, and when I perceived that the popular voice and +the countenances of the judges had already condemned my unhappy victim, +I rushed out of the court in agony. The tortures of the accused did +not equal mine; she was sustained by innocence, but the fangs of +remorse tore my bosom and would not forgo their hold. +

+ +

+I passed a night of unmingled wretchedness. In the morning I went to +the court; my lips and throat were parched. I dared not ask the fatal +question, but I was known, and the officer guessed the cause of my +visit. The ballots had been thrown; they were all black, and Justine +was condemned. +

+ +

+I cannot pretend to describe what I then felt. I had before +experienced sensations of horror, and I have endeavoured to bestow upon +them adequate expressions, but words cannot convey an idea of the +heart-sickening despair that I then endured. The person to whom I +addressed myself added that Justine had already confessed her guilt. +"That evidence," he observed, "was hardly required in so glaring a +case, but I am glad of it, and, indeed, none of our judges like to +condemn a criminal upon circumstantial evidence, be it ever so +decisive." +

+ +

+This was strange and unexpected intelligence; what could it mean? Had +my eyes deceived me? And was I really as mad as the whole world would +believe me to be if I disclosed the object of my suspicions? I +hastened to return home, and Elizabeth eagerly demanded the result. +

+ +

+"My cousin," replied I, "it is decided as you may have expected; all +judges had rather that ten innocent should suffer than that one guilty +should escape. But she has confessed." +

+ +

+This was a dire blow to poor Elizabeth, who had relied with firmness +upon Justine's innocence. "Alas!" said she. "How shall I ever again +believe in human goodness? Justine, whom I loved and esteemed as my +sister, how could she put on those smiles of innocence only to betray? +Her mild eyes seemed incapable of any severity or guile, and yet she +has committed a murder." +

+ +

+Soon after we heard that the poor victim had expressed a desire to see +my cousin. My father wished her not to go but said that he left it to +her own judgment and feelings to decide. "Yes," said Elizabeth, "I +will go, although she is guilty; and you, Victor, shall accompany me; I +cannot go alone." The idea of this visit was torture to me, yet I +could not refuse. We entered the gloomy prison chamber and beheld +Justine sitting on some straw at the farther end; her hands were +manacled, and her head rested on her knees. She rose on seeing us +enter, and when we were left alone with her, she threw herself at the +feet of Elizabeth, weeping bitterly. My cousin wept also. +

+ +

+"Oh, Justine!" said she. "Why did you rob me of my last consolation? +I relied on your innocence, and although I was then very wretched, I +was not so miserable as I am now." +

+ +

+"And do you also believe that I am so very, very wicked? Do you also +join with my enemies to crush me, to condemn me as a murderer?" Her +voice was suffocated with sobs. +

+ +

+"Rise, my poor girl," said Elizabeth; "why do you kneel, if you are +innocent? I am not one of your enemies, I believed you guiltless, +notwithstanding every evidence, until I heard that you had yourself +declared your guilt. That report, you say, is false; and be assured, +dear Justine, that nothing can shake my confidence in you for a moment, +but your own confession." +

+ +

+"I did confess, but I confessed a lie. I confessed, that I might +obtain absolution; but now that falsehood lies heavier at my heart than +all my other sins. The God of heaven forgive me! Ever since I was +condemned, my confessor has besieged me; he threatened and menaced, +until I almost began to think that I was the monster that he said I +was. He threatened excommunication and hell fire in my last moments if +I continued obdurate. Dear lady, I had none to support me; all looked +on me as a wretch doomed to ignominy and perdition. What could I do? +In an evil hour I subscribed to a lie; and now only am I truly +miserable." +

+ +

+She paused, weeping, and then continued, "I thought with horror, my +sweet lady, that you should believe your Justine, whom your blessed +aunt had so highly honoured, and whom you loved, was a creature capable +of a crime which none but the devil himself could have perpetrated. +Dear William! dearest blessed child! I soon shall see you again in +heaven, where we shall all be happy; and that consoles me, going as I +am to suffer ignominy and death." +

+ +

+"Oh, Justine! Forgive me for having for one moment distrusted you. +Why did you confess? But do not mourn, dear girl. Do not fear. I +will proclaim, I will prove your innocence. I will melt the stony +hearts of your enemies by my tears and prayers. You shall not die! +You, my playfellow, my companion, my sister, perish on the scaffold! +No! No! I never could survive so horrible a misfortune." +

+ +

+Justine shook her head mournfully. "I do not fear to die," she said; +"that pang is past. God raises my weakness and gives me courage to +endure the worst. I leave a sad and bitter world; and if you remember +me and think of me as of one unjustly condemned, I am resigned to the +fate awaiting me. Learn from me, dear lady, to submit in patience to +the will of heaven!" +

+ +

+During this conversation I had retired to a corner of the prison room, +where I could conceal the horrid anguish that possessed me. Despair! +Who dared talk of that? The poor victim, who on the morrow was to pass +the awful boundary between life and death, felt not, as I did, such +deep and bitter agony. I gnashed my teeth and ground them together, +uttering a groan that came from my inmost soul. Justine started. When +she saw who it was, she approached me and said, "Dear sir, you are very +kind to visit me; you, I hope, do not believe that I am guilty?" +

+ +

+I could not answer. "No, Justine," said Elizabeth; "he is more +convinced of your innocence than I was, for even when he heard that you +had confessed, he did not credit it." +

+ +

+"I truly thank him. In these last moments I feel the sincerest +gratitude towards those who think of me with kindness. How sweet is +the affection of others to such a wretch as I am! It removes more than +half my misfortune, and I feel as if I could die in peace now that my +innocence is acknowledged by you, dear lady, and your cousin." +

+ +

+Thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort others and herself. She indeed +gained the resignation she desired. But I, the true murderer, felt the +never-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed of no hope or +consolation. Elizabeth also wept and was unhappy, but hers also was +the misery of innocence, which, like a cloud that passes over the fair +moon, for a while hides but cannot tarnish its brightness. Anguish and +despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within +me which nothing could extinguish. We stayed several hours with +Justine, and it was with great difficulty that Elizabeth could tear +herself away. "I wish," cried she, "that I were to die with you; I +cannot live in this world of misery." +

+ +

+Justine assumed an air of cheerfulness, while she with difficulty +repressed her bitter tears. She embraced Elizabeth and said in a voice +of half-suppressed emotion, "Farewell, sweet lady, dearest Elizabeth, +my beloved and only friend; may heaven, in its bounty, bless and +preserve you; may this be the last misfortune that you will ever +suffer! Live, and be happy, and make others so." +

+ +

+And on the morrow Justine died. Elizabeth's heart-rending eloquence +failed to move the judges from their settled conviction in the +criminality of the saintly sufferer. My passionate and indignant +appeals were lost upon them. And when I received their cold answers +and heard the harsh, unfeeling reasoning of these men, my purposed +avowal died away on my lips. Thus I might proclaim myself a madman, +but not revoke the sentence passed upon my wretched victim. She +perished on the scaffold as a murderess! +

+ +

+From the tortures of my own heart, I turned to contemplate the deep and +voiceless grief of my Elizabeth. This also was my doing! And my +father's woe, and the desolation of that late so smiling home all was +the work of my thrice-accursed hands! Ye weep, unhappy ones, but these +are not your last tears! Again shall you raise the funeral wail, and +the sound of your lamentations shall again and again be heard! +Frankenstein, your son, your kinsman, your early, much-loved friend; he +who would spend each vital drop of blood for your sakes, who has no +thought nor sense of joy except as it is mirrored also in your dear +countenances, who would fill the air with blessings and spend his life +in serving you—he bids you weep, to shed countless tears; happy beyond +his hopes, if thus inexorable fate be satisfied, and if the destruction +pause before the peace of the grave have succeeded to your sad torments! +

+ +

+Thus spoke my prophetic soul, as, torn by remorse, horror, and despair, +I beheld those I loved spend vain sorrow upon the graves of William and +Justine, the first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 9 +

+ +

+Nothing is more painful to the human mind than, after the feelings have +been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of +inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope +and fear. Justine died, she rested, and I was alive. The blood flowed +freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my +heart which nothing could remove. Sleep fled from my eyes; I wandered +like an evil spirit, for I had committed deeds of mischief beyond +description horrible, and more, much more (I persuaded myself) was yet +behind. Yet my heart overflowed with kindness and the love of virtue. +I had begun life with benevolent intentions and thirsted for the moment +when I should put them in practice and make myself useful to my fellow +beings. Now all was blasted; instead of that serenity of conscience +which allowed me to look back upon the past with self-satisfaction, and +from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I was seized by remorse and +the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to a hell of intense tortures +such as no language can describe. +

+ +

+This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had perhaps never +entirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained. I shunned +the face of man; all sound of joy or complacency was torture to me; +solitude was my only consolation—deep, dark, deathlike solitude. +

+ +

+My father observed with pain the alteration perceptible in my +disposition and habits and endeavoured by arguments deduced from the +feelings of his serene conscience and guiltless life to inspire me with +fortitude and awaken in me the courage to dispel the dark cloud which +brooded over me. "Do you think, Victor," said he, "that I do not +suffer also? No one could love a child more than I loved your +brother"—tears came into his eyes as he spoke—"but is it not a duty +to the survivors that we should refrain from augmenting their +unhappiness by an appearance of immoderate grief? It is also a duty +owed to yourself, for excessive sorrow prevents improvement or +enjoyment, or even the discharge of daily usefulness, without which no +man is fit for society." +

+ +

+This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case; I +should have been the first to hide my grief and console my friends if +remorse had not mingled its bitterness, and terror its alarm, with my +other sensations. Now I could only answer my father with a look of +despair and endeavour to hide myself from his view. +

+ +

+About this time we retired to our house at Belrive. This change was +particularly agreeable to me. The shutting of the gates regularly at +ten o'clock and the impossibility of remaining on the lake after that +hour had rendered our residence within the walls of Geneva very irksome +to me. I was now free. Often, after the rest of the family had +retired for the night, I took the boat and passed many hours upon the +water. Sometimes, with my sails set, I was carried by the wind; and +sometimes, after rowing into the middle of the lake, I left the boat to +pursue its own course and gave way to my own miserable reflections. I +was often tempted, when all was at peace around me, and I the only +unquiet thing that wandered restless in a scene so beautiful and +heavenly—if I except some bat, or the frogs, whose harsh and +interrupted croaking was heard only when I approached the shore—often, +I say, I was tempted to plunge into the silent lake, that the waters +might close over me and my calamities forever. But I was restrained, +when I thought of the heroic and suffering Elizabeth, whom I tenderly +loved, and whose existence was bound up in mine. I thought also of my +father and surviving brother; should I by my base desertion leave them +exposed and unprotected to the malice of the fiend whom I had let loose +among them? +

+ +

+At these moments I wept bitterly and wished that peace would revisit my +mind only that I might afford them consolation and happiness. But that +could not be. Remorse extinguished every hope. I had been the author +of unalterable evils, and I lived in daily fear lest the monster whom I +had created should perpetrate some new wickedness. I had an obscure +feeling that all was not over and that he would still commit some +signal crime, which by its enormity should almost efface the +recollection of the past. There was always scope for fear so long as +anything I loved remained behind. My abhorrence of this fiend cannot +be conceived. When I thought of him I gnashed my teeth, my eyes became +inflamed, and I ardently wished to extinguish that life which I had so +thoughtlessly bestowed. When I reflected on his crimes and malice, my +hatred and revenge burst all bounds of moderation. I would have made a +pilgrimage to the highest peak of the Andes, could I when there have +precipitated him to their base. I wished to see him again, that I +might wreak the utmost extent of abhorrence on his head and avenge the +deaths of William and Justine. Our house was the house of mourning. My +father's health was deeply shaken by the horror of the recent events. +Elizabeth was sad and desponding; she no longer took delight in her +ordinary occupations; all pleasure seemed to her sacrilege toward the +dead; eternal woe and tears she then thought was the just tribute she +should pay to innocence so blasted and destroyed. She was no longer +that happy creature who in earlier youth wandered with me on the banks +of the lake and talked with ecstasy of our future prospects. The first +of those sorrows which are sent to wean us from the earth had visited +her, and its dimming influence quenched her dearest smiles. +

+ +

+"When I reflect, my dear cousin," said she, "on the miserable death of +Justine Moritz, I no longer see the world and its works as they before +appeared to me. Before, I looked upon the accounts of vice and +injustice that I read in books or heard from others as tales of ancient +days or imaginary evils; at least they were remote and more familiar to +reason than to the imagination; but now misery has come home, and men +appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other's blood. Yet I am +certainly unjust. Everybody believed that poor girl to be guilty; and +if she could have committed the crime for which she suffered, assuredly +she would have been the most depraved of human creatures. For the sake +of a few jewels, to have murdered the son of her benefactor and friend, +a child whom she had nursed from its birth, and appeared to love as if +it had been her own! I could not consent to the death of any human +being, but certainly I should have thought such a creature unfit to +remain in the society of men. But she was innocent. I know, I feel +she was innocent; you are of the same opinion, and that confirms me. +Alas! Victor, when falsehood can look so like the truth, who can +assure themselves of certain happiness? I feel as if I were walking on +the edge of a precipice, towards which thousands are crowding and +endeavouring to plunge me into the abyss. William and Justine were +assassinated, and the murderer escapes; he walks about the world free, +and perhaps respected. But even if I were condemned to suffer on the +scaffold for the same crimes, I would not change places with such a +wretch." +

+ +

+I listened to this discourse with the extremest agony. I, not in deed, +but in effect, was the true murderer. Elizabeth read my anguish in my +countenance, and kindly taking my hand, said, "My dearest friend, you +must calm yourself. These events have affected me, God knows how +deeply; but I am not so wretched as you are. There is an expression of +despair, and sometimes of revenge, in your countenance that makes me +tremble. Dear Victor, banish these dark passions. Remember the +friends around you, who centre all their hopes in you. Have we lost +the power of rendering you happy? Ah! While we love, while we are +true to each other, here in this land of peace and beauty, your native +country, we may reap every tranquil blessing—what can disturb our +peace?" +

+ +

+And could not such words from her whom I fondly prized before every +other gift of fortune suffice to chase away the fiend that lurked in my +heart? Even as she spoke I drew near to her, as if in terror, lest at +that very moment the destroyer had been near to rob me of her. +

+ +

+Thus not the tenderness of friendship, nor the beauty of earth, nor of +heaven, could redeem my soul from woe; the very accents of love were +ineffectual. I was encompassed by a cloud which no beneficial +influence could penetrate. The wounded deer dragging its fainting +limbs to some untrodden brake, there to gaze upon the arrow which had +pierced it, and to die, was but a type of me. +

+ +

+Sometimes I could cope with the sullen despair that overwhelmed me, but +sometimes the whirlwind passions of my soul drove me to seek, by bodily +exercise and by change of place, some relief from my intolerable +sensations. It was during an access of this kind that I suddenly left +my home, and bending my steps towards the near Alpine valleys, sought +in the magnificence, the eternity of such scenes, to forget myself and +my ephemeral, because human, sorrows. My wanderings were directed +towards the valley of Chamounix. I had visited it frequently during my +boyhood. Six years had passed since then: _I_ was a wreck, but nought +had changed in those savage and enduring scenes. +

+ +

+I performed the first part of my journey on horseback. I afterwards +hired a mule, as the more sure-footed and least liable to receive +injury on these rugged roads. The weather was fine; it was about the +middle of the month of August, nearly two months after the death of +Justine, that miserable epoch from which I dated all my woe. The +weight upon my spirit was sensibly lightened as I plunged yet deeper in +the ravine of Arve. The immense mountains and precipices that overhung +me on every side, the sound of the river raging among the rocks, and +the dashing of the waterfalls around spoke of a power mighty as +Omnipotence—and I ceased to fear or to bend before any being less +almighty than that which had created and ruled the elements, here +displayed in their most terrific guise. Still, as I ascended higher, +the valley assumed a more magnificent and astonishing character. +Ruined castles hanging on the precipices of piny mountains, the +impetuous Arve, and cottages every here and there peeping forth from +among the trees formed a scene of singular beauty. But it was +augmented and rendered sublime by the mighty Alps, whose white and +shining pyramids and domes towered above all, as belonging to another +earth, the habitations of another race of beings. +

+ +

+I passed the bridge of Pelissier, where the ravine, which the river +forms, opened before me, and I began to ascend the mountain that +overhangs it. Soon after, I entered the valley of Chamounix. This +valley is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful and +picturesque as that of Servox, through which I had just passed. The +high and snowy mountains were its immediate boundaries, but I saw no +more ruined castles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers approached +the road; I heard the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche and +marked the smoke of its passage. Mont Blanc, the supreme and +magnificent Mont Blanc, raised itself from the surrounding aiguilles, +and its tremendous dome overlooked the valley. +

+ +

+A tingling long-lost sense of pleasure often came across me during this +journey. Some turn in the road, some new object suddenly perceived and +recognized, reminded me of days gone by, and were associated with the +lighthearted gaiety of boyhood. The very winds whispered in soothing +accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more. Then again the +kindly influence ceased to act—I found myself fettered again to grief +and indulging in all the misery of reflection. Then I spurred on my +animal, striving so to forget the world, my fears, and more than all, +myself—or, in a more desperate fashion, I alighted and threw myself on +the grass, weighed down by horror and despair. +

+ +

+At length I arrived at the village of Chamounix. Exhaustion succeeded +to the extreme fatigue both of body and of mind which I had endured. +For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid +lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of +the Arve, which pursued its noisy way beneath. The same lulling sounds +acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head +upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed +the giver of oblivion. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 10 +

+ +

+I spent the following day roaming through the valley. I stood beside +the sources of the Arveiron, which take their rise in a glacier, that +with slow pace is advancing down from the summit of the hills to +barricade the valley. The abrupt sides of vast mountains were before +me; the icy wall of the glacier overhung me; a few shattered pines were +scattered around; and the solemn silence of this glorious +presence-chamber of imperial nature was broken only by the brawling +waves or the fall of some vast fragment, the thunder sound of the +avalanche or the cracking, reverberated along the mountains, of the +accumulated ice, which, through the silent working of immutable laws, +was ever and anon rent and torn, as if it had been but a plaything in +their hands. These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the +greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They elevated me +from all littleness of feeling, and although they did not remove my +grief, they subdued and tranquillized it. In some degree, also, they +diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded for the +last month. I retired to rest at night; my slumbers, as it were, +waited on and ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which I +had contemplated during the day. They congregated round me; the +unstained snowy mountain-top, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods, +and ragged bare ravine, the eagle, soaring amidst the clouds—they all +gathered round me and bade me be at peace. +

+ +

+Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke? All of +soul-inspiriting fled with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded every +thought. The rain was pouring in torrents, and thick mists hid the +summits of the mountains, so that I even saw not the faces of those +mighty friends. Still I would penetrate their misty veil and seek them +in their cloudy retreats. What were rain and storm to me? My mule was +brought to the door, and I resolved to ascend to the summit of +Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous +and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it. +It had then filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the +soul and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy. +The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the +effect of solemnizing my mind and causing me to forget the passing +cares of life. I determined to go without a guide, for I was well +acquainted with the path, and the presence of another would destroy the +solitary grandeur of the scene. +

+ +

+The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short +windings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the +mountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots +the traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie +broken and strewed on the ground, some entirely destroyed, others bent, +leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountain or transversely upon +other trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines +of snow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them is +particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking +in a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw +destruction upon the head of the speaker. The pines are not tall or +luxuriant, but they are sombre and add an air of severity to the scene. +I looked on the valley beneath; vast mists were rising from the rivers +which ran through it and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite +mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rain +poured from the dark sky and added to the melancholy impression I +received from the objects around me. Alas! Why does man boast of +sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders +them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, +thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by +every wind that blows and a chance word or scene that that word may +convey to us. +

+ +
+ +

+ We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.
+     We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day.
+ We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,
+     Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;
+ It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,
+     The path of its departure still is free.
+ Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
+     Nought may endure but mutability!
+

+ +
+ +

+It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some +time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered +both that and the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated +the cloud, and I descended upon the glacier. The surface is very +uneven, rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low, and +interspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost a +league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it. The +opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I +now stood Montanvert was exactly opposite, at the distance of a league; +and above it rose Mont Blanc, in awful majesty. I remained in a recess +of the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous scene. The sea, +or rather the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains, +whose aerial summits hung over its recesses. Their icy and glittering +peaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which was +before sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy; I exclaimed, +"Wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander, and do not rest in your narrow +beds, allow me this faint happiness, or take me, as your companion, +away from the joys of life." +

+ +

+As I said this I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance, +advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the +crevices in the ice, among which I had walked with caution; his +stature, also, as he approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was +troubled; a mist came over my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me, +but I was quickly restored by the cold gale of the mountains. I +perceived, as the shape came nearer (sight tremendous and abhorred!) +that it was the wretch whom I had created. I trembled with rage and +horror, resolving to wait his approach and then close with him in +mortal combat. He approached; his countenance bespoke bitter anguish, +combined with disdain and malignity, while its unearthly ugliness +rendered it almost too horrible for human eyes. But I scarcely +observed this; rage and hatred had at first deprived me of utterance, +and I recovered only to overwhelm him with words expressive of furious +detestation and contempt. +

+ +

+"Devil," I exclaimed, "do you dare approach me? And do not you fear +the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head? Begone, +vile insect! Or rather, stay, that I may trample you to dust! And, +oh! That I could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, +restore those victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!" +

+ +

+"I expected this reception," said the daemon. "All men hate the +wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all +living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, +to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of +one of us. You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? +Do your duty towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of +mankind. If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and +you at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it +be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends." +

+ +

+"Abhorred monster! Fiend that thou art! The tortures of hell are too +mild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! You reproach me with +your creation, come on, then, that I may extinguish the spark which I +so negligently bestowed." +

+ +

+My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the +feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another. +

+ +

+He easily eluded me and said, +

+ +

+"Be calm! I entreat you to hear me before you give vent to your hatred +on my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to +increase my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of +anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made +me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my +joints more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in +opposition to thee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and +docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, +the which thou owest me. Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every +other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy +clemency and affection, is most due. Remember that I am thy creature; +I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou +drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I +alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made +me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous." +

+ +

+"Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you +and me; we are enemies. Begone, or let us try our strength in a fight, +in which one must fall." +

+ +

+"How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a +favourable eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and +compassion? Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent; my soul glowed +with love and humanity; but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my +creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures, +who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and +dreary glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days; the +caves of ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and the +only one which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for they +are kinder to me than your fellow beings. If the multitude of mankind +knew of my existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for +my destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep +no terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my +wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver +them from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great, that +not only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be +swallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion be +moved, and do not disdain me. Listen to my tale; when you have heard +that, abandon or commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve. +But hear me. The guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they +are, to speak in their own defence before they are condemned. Listen +to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder, and yet you would, with +a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the +eternal justice of man! Yet I ask you not to spare me; listen to me, +and then, if you can, and if you will, destroy the work of your hands." +

+ +

+"Why do you call to my remembrance," I rejoined, "circumstances of +which I shudder to reflect, that I have been the miserable origin and +author? Cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which you first saw +light! Cursed (although I curse myself) be the hands that formed you! +You have made me wretched beyond expression. You have left me no power +to consider whether I am just to you or not. Begone! Relieve me from +the sight of your detested form." +

+ +

+"Thus I relieve thee, my creator," he said, and placed his hated hands +before my eyes, which I flung from me with violence; "thus I take from +thee a sight which you abhor. Still thou canst listen to me and grant +me thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this +from you. Hear my tale; it is long and strange, and the temperature of +this place is not fitting to your fine sensations; come to the hut upon +the mountain. The sun is yet high in the heavens; before it descends +to hide itself behind your snowy precipices and illuminate another +world, you will have heard my story and can decide. On you it rests, +whether I quit forever the neighbourhood of man and lead a harmless +life, or become the scourge of your fellow creatures and the author of +your own speedy ruin." +

+ +

+As he said this he led the way across the ice; I followed. My heart +was full, and I did not answer him, but as I proceeded, I weighed the +various arguments that he had used and determined at least to listen to +his tale. I was partly urged by curiosity, and compassion confirmed my +resolution. I had hitherto supposed him to be the murderer of my +brother, and I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion. +For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards +his creature were, and that I ought to render him happy before I +complained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to comply with +his demand. We crossed the ice, therefore, and ascended the opposite +rock. The air was cold, and the rain again began to descend; we +entered the hut, the fiend with an air of exultation, I with a heavy +heart and depressed spirits. But I consented to listen, and seating +myself by the fire which my odious companion had lighted, he thus began +his tale. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 11 +

+ +

+"It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original era of +my being; all the events of that period appear confused and indistinct. +A strange multiplicity of sensations seized me, and I saw, felt, heard, +and smelt at the same time; and it was, indeed, a long time before I +learned to distinguish between the operations of my various senses. By +degrees, I remember, a stronger light pressed upon my nerves, so that I +was obliged to shut my eyes. Darkness then came over me and troubled +me, but hardly had I felt this when, by opening my eyes, as I now +suppose, the light poured in upon me again. I walked and, I believe, +descended, but I presently found a great alteration in my sensations. +Before, dark and opaque bodies had surrounded me, impervious to my +touch or sight; but I now found that I could wander on at liberty, with +no obstacles which I could not either surmount or avoid. The light +became more and more oppressive to me, and the heat wearying me as I +walked, I sought a place where I could receive shade. This was the +forest near Ingolstadt; and here I lay by the side of a brook resting +from my fatigue, until I felt tormented by hunger and thirst. This +roused me from my nearly dormant state, and I ate some berries which I +found hanging on the trees or lying on the ground. I slaked my thirst +at the brook, and then lying down, was overcome by sleep. +

+ +

+"It was dark when I awoke; I felt cold also, and half frightened, as it +were, instinctively, finding myself so desolate. Before I had quitted +your apartment, on a sensation of cold, I had covered myself with some +clothes, but these were insufficient to secure me from the dews of +night. I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch; I knew, and could +distinguish, nothing; but feeling pain invade me on all sides, I sat +down and wept. +

+ +

+"Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens and gave me a sensation of +pleasure. I started up and beheld a radiant form rise from among the +trees. [The moon] I gazed with a kind of wonder. It moved slowly, +but it enlightened my path, and I again went out in search of berries. +I was still cold when under one of the trees I found a huge cloak, with +which I covered myself, and sat down upon the ground. No distinct +ideas occupied my mind; all was confused. I felt light, and hunger, +and thirst, and darkness; innumerable sounds rang in my ears, and on +all sides various scents saluted me; the only object that I could +distinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with +pleasure. +

+ +

+"Several changes of day and night passed, and the orb of night had +greatly lessened, when I began to distinguish my sensations from each +other. I gradually saw plainly the clear stream that supplied me with +drink and the trees that shaded me with their foliage. I was delighted +when I first discovered that a pleasant sound, which often saluted my +ears, proceeded from the throats of the little winged animals who had +often intercepted the light from my eyes. I began also to observe, +with greater accuracy, the forms that surrounded me and to perceive the +boundaries of the radiant roof of light which canopied me. Sometimes I +tried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds but was unable. +Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the +uncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me into +silence again. +

+ +

+"The moon had disappeared from the night, and again, with a lessened +form, showed itself, while I still remained in the forest. My +sensations had by this time become distinct, and my mind received every +day additional ideas. My eyes became accustomed to the light and to +perceive objects in their right forms; I distinguished the insect from +the herb, and by degrees, one herb from another. I found that the +sparrow uttered none but harsh notes, whilst those of the blackbird and +thrush were sweet and enticing. +

+ +

+"One day, when I was oppressed by cold, I found a fire which had been +left by some wandering beggars, and was overcome with delight at the +warmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the live +embers, but quickly drew it out again with a cry of pain. How strange, +I thought, that the same cause should produce such opposite effects! I +examined the materials of the fire, and to my joy found it to be +composed of wood. I quickly collected some branches, but they were wet +and would not burn. I was pained at this and sat still watching the +operation of the fire. The wet wood which I had placed near the heat +dried and itself became inflamed. I reflected on this, and by touching +the various branches, I discovered the cause and busied myself in +collecting a great quantity of wood, that I might dry it and have a +plentiful supply of fire. When night came on and brought sleep with +it, I was in the greatest fear lest my fire should be extinguished. I +covered it carefully with dry wood and leaves and placed wet branches +upon it; and then, spreading my cloak, I lay on the ground and sank +into sleep. +

+ +

+"It was morning when I awoke, and my first care was to visit the fire. +I uncovered it, and a gentle breeze quickly fanned it into a flame. I +observed this also and contrived a fan of branches, which roused the +embers when they were nearly extinguished. When night came again I +found, with pleasure, that the fire gave light as well as heat and that +the discovery of this element was useful to me in my food, for I found +some of the offals that the travellers had left had been roasted, and +tasted much more savoury than the berries I gathered from the trees. I +tried, therefore, to dress my food in the same manner, placing it on +the live embers. I found that the berries were spoiled by this +operation, and the nuts and roots much improved. +

+ +

+"Food, however, became scarce, and I often spent the whole day +searching in vain for a few acorns to assuage the pangs of hunger. When +I found this, I resolved to quit the place that I had hitherto +inhabited, to seek for one where the few wants I experienced would be +more easily satisfied. In this emigration I exceedingly lamented the +loss of the fire which I had obtained through accident and knew not how +to reproduce it. I gave several hours to the serious consideration of +this difficulty, but I was obliged to relinquish all attempt to supply +it, and wrapping myself up in my cloak, I struck across the wood +towards the setting sun. I passed three days in these rambles and at +length discovered the open country. A great fall of snow had taken +place the night before, and the fields were of one uniform white; the +appearance was disconsolate, and I found my feet chilled by the cold +damp substance that covered the ground. +

+ +

+"It was about seven in the morning, and I longed to obtain food and +shelter; at length I perceived a small hut, on a rising ground, which +had doubtless been built for the convenience of some shepherd. This +was a new sight to me, and I examined the structure with great +curiosity. Finding the door open, I entered. An old man sat in it, +near a fire, over which he was preparing his breakfast. He turned on +hearing a noise, and perceiving me, shrieked loudly, and quitting the +hut, ran across the fields with a speed of which his debilitated form +hardly appeared capable. His appearance, different from any I had ever +before seen, and his flight somewhat surprised me. But I was enchanted +by the appearance of the hut; here the snow and rain could not +penetrate; the ground was dry; and it presented to me then as exquisite +and divine a retreat as Pandemonium appeared to the demons of hell +after their sufferings in the lake of fire. I greedily devoured the +remnants of the shepherd's breakfast, which consisted of bread, cheese, +milk, and wine; the latter, however, I did not like. Then, overcome by +fatigue, I lay down among some straw and fell asleep. +

+ +

+"It was noon when I awoke, and allured by the warmth of the sun, which +shone brightly on the white ground, I determined to recommence my +travels; and, depositing the remains of the peasant's breakfast in a +wallet I found, I proceeded across the fields for several hours, until +at sunset I arrived at a village. How miraculous did this appear! The +huts, the neater cottages, and stately houses engaged my admiration by +turns. The vegetables in the gardens, the milk and cheese that I saw +placed at the windows of some of the cottages, allured my appetite. One +of the best of these I entered, but I had hardly placed my foot within +the door before the children shrieked, and one of the women fainted. +The whole village was roused; some fled, some attacked me, until, +grievously bruised by stones and many other kinds of missile weapons, I +escaped to the open country and fearfully took refuge in a low hovel, +quite bare, and making a wretched appearance after the palaces I had +beheld in the village. This hovel however, joined a cottage of a neat +and pleasant appearance, but after my late dearly bought experience, I +dared not enter it. My place of refuge was constructed of wood, but so +low that I could with difficulty sit upright in it. No wood, however, +was placed on the earth, which formed the floor, but it was dry; and +although the wind entered it by innumerable chinks, I found it an +agreeable asylum from the snow and rain. +

+ +

+"Here, then, I retreated and lay down happy to have found a shelter, +however miserable, from the inclemency of the season, and still more +from the barbarity of man. As soon as morning dawned I crept from my +kennel, that I might view the adjacent cottage and discover if I could +remain in the habitation I had found. It was situated against the back +of the cottage and surrounded on the sides which were exposed by a pig +sty and a clear pool of water. One part was open, and by that I had +crept in; but now I covered every crevice by which I might be perceived +with stones and wood, yet in such a manner that I might move them on +occasion to pass out; all the light I enjoyed came through the sty, and +that was sufficient for me. +

+ +

+"Having thus arranged my dwelling and carpeted it with clean straw, I +retired, for I saw the figure of a man at a distance, and I remembered +too well my treatment the night before to trust myself in his power. I +had first, however, provided for my sustenance for that day by a loaf +of coarse bread, which I purloined, and a cup with which I could drink +more conveniently than from my hand of the pure water which flowed by +my retreat. The floor was a little raised, so that it was kept +perfectly dry, and by its vicinity to the chimney of the cottage it was +tolerably warm. +

+ +

+"Being thus provided, I resolved to reside in this hovel until +something should occur which might alter my determination. It was +indeed a paradise compared to the bleak forest, my former residence, +the rain-dropping branches, and dank earth. I ate my breakfast with +pleasure and was about to remove a plank to procure myself a little +water when I heard a step, and looking through a small chink, I beheld +a young creature, with a pail on her head, passing before my hovel. The +girl was young and of gentle demeanour, unlike what I have since found +cottagers and farmhouse servants to be. Yet she was meanly dressed, a +coarse blue petticoat and a linen jacket being her only garb; her fair +hair was plaited but not adorned: she looked patient yet sad. I lost +sight of her, and in about a quarter of an hour she returned bearing +the pail, which was now partly filled with milk. As she walked along, +seemingly incommoded by the burden, a young man met her, whose +countenance expressed a deeper despondence. Uttering a few sounds with +an air of melancholy, he took the pail from her head and bore it to the +cottage himself. She followed, and they disappeared. Presently I saw +the young man again, with some tools in his hand, cross the field +behind the cottage; and the girl was also busied, sometimes in the +house and sometimes in the yard. +

+ +

+"On examining my dwelling, I found that one of the windows of the +cottage had formerly occupied a part of it, but the panes had been +filled up with wood. In one of these was a small and almost +imperceptible chink through which the eye could just penetrate. +Through this crevice a small room was visible, whitewashed and clean +but very bare of furniture. In one corner, near a small fire, sat an +old man, leaning his head on his hands in a disconsolate attitude. The +young girl was occupied in arranging the cottage; but presently she +took something out of a drawer, which employed her hands, and she sat +down beside the old man, who, taking up an instrument, began to play +and to produce sounds sweeter than the voice of the thrush or the +nightingale. It was a lovely sight, even to me, poor wretch who had +never beheld aught beautiful before. The silver hair and benevolent +countenance of the aged cottager won my reverence, while the gentle +manners of the girl enticed my love. He played a sweet mournful air +which I perceived drew tears from the eyes of his amiable companion, of +which the old man took no notice, until she sobbed audibly; he then +pronounced a few sounds, and the fair creature, leaving her work, knelt +at his feet. He raised her and smiled with such kindness and affection +that I felt sensations of a peculiar and overpowering nature; they were +a mixture of pain and pleasure, such as I had never before experienced, +either from hunger or cold, warmth or food; and I withdrew from the +window, unable to bear these emotions. +

+ +

+"Soon after this the young man returned, bearing on his shoulders a +load of wood. The girl met him at the door, helped to relieve him of +his burden, and taking some of the fuel into the cottage, placed it on +the fire; then she and the youth went apart into a nook of the cottage, +and he showed her a large loaf and a piece of cheese. She seemed +pleased and went into the garden for some roots and plants, which she +placed in water, and then upon the fire. She afterwards continued her +work, whilst the young man went into the garden and appeared busily +employed in digging and pulling up roots. After he had been employed +thus about an hour, the young woman joined him and they entered the +cottage together. +

+ +

+"The old man had, in the meantime, been pensive, but on the appearance +of his companions he assumed a more cheerful air, and they sat down to +eat. The meal was quickly dispatched. The young woman was again +occupied in arranging the cottage, the old man walked before the +cottage in the sun for a few minutes, leaning on the arm of the youth. +Nothing could exceed in beauty the contrast between these two excellent +creatures. One was old, with silver hairs and a countenance beaming +with benevolence and love; the younger was slight and graceful in his +figure, and his features were moulded with the finest symmetry, yet his +eyes and attitude expressed the utmost sadness and despondency. The +old man returned to the cottage, and the youth, with tools different +from those he had used in the morning, directed his steps across the +fields. +

+ +

+"Night quickly shut in, but to my extreme wonder, I found that the +cottagers had a means of prolonging light by the use of tapers, and was +delighted to find that the setting of the sun did not put an end to the +pleasure I experienced in watching my human neighbours. In the evening +the young girl and her companion were employed in various occupations +which I did not understand; and the old man again took up the +instrument which produced the divine sounds that had enchanted me in +the morning. So soon as he had finished, the youth began, not to play, +but to utter sounds that were monotonous, and neither resembling the +harmony of the old man's instrument nor the songs of the birds; I since +found that he read aloud, but at that time I knew nothing of the +science of words or letters. +

+ +

+"The family, after having been thus occupied for a short time, +extinguished their lights and retired, as I conjectured, to rest." +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 12 +

+ +

+"I lay on my straw, but I could not sleep. I thought of the +occurrences of the day. What chiefly struck me was the gentle manners +of these people, and I longed to join them, but dared not. I +remembered too well the treatment I had suffered the night before from +the barbarous villagers, and resolved, whatever course of conduct I +might hereafter think it right to pursue, that for the present I would +remain quietly in my hovel, watching and endeavouring to discover the +motives which influenced their actions. +

+ +

+"The cottagers arose the next morning before the sun. The young woman +arranged the cottage and prepared the food, and the youth departed +after the first meal. +

+ +

+"This day was passed in the same routine as that which preceded it. +The young man was constantly employed out of doors, and the girl in +various laborious occupations within. The old man, whom I soon +perceived to be blind, employed his leisure hours on his instrument or +in contemplation. Nothing could exceed the love and respect which the +younger cottagers exhibited towards their venerable companion. They +performed towards him every little office of affection and duty with +gentleness, and he rewarded them by his benevolent smiles. +

+ +

+"They were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion often +went apart and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness, +but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were +miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, +should be wretched. Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy? They +possessed a delightful house (for such it was in my eyes) and every +luxury; they had a fire to warm them when chill and delicious viands +when hungry; they were dressed in excellent clothes; and, still more, +they enjoyed one another's company and speech, interchanging each day +looks of affection and kindness. What did their tears imply? Did they +really express pain? I was at first unable to solve these questions, +but perpetual attention and time explained to me many appearances which +were at first enigmatic. +

+ +

+"A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes of +the uneasiness of this amiable family: it was poverty, and they +suffered that evil in a very distressing degree. Their nourishment +consisted entirely of the vegetables of their garden and the milk of +one cow, which gave very little during the winter, when its masters +could scarcely procure food to support it. They often, I believe, +suffered the pangs of hunger very poignantly, especially the two +younger cottagers, for several times they placed food before the old +man when they reserved none for themselves. +

+ +

+"This trait of kindness moved me sensibly. I had been accustomed, +during the night, to steal a part of their store for my own +consumption, but when I found that in doing this I inflicted pain on +the cottagers, I abstained and satisfied myself with berries, nuts, and +roots which I gathered from a neighbouring wood. +

+ +

+"I discovered also another means through which I was enabled to assist +their labours. I found that the youth spent a great part of each day +in collecting wood for the family fire, and during the night I often +took his tools, the use of which I quickly discovered, and brought home +firing sufficient for the consumption of several days. +

+ +

+"I remember, the first time that I did this, the young woman, when she +opened the door in the morning, appeared greatly astonished on seeing a +great pile of wood on the outside. She uttered some words in a loud +voice, and the youth joined her, who also expressed surprise. I +observed, with pleasure, that he did not go to the forest that day, but +spent it in repairing the cottage and cultivating the garden. +

+ +

+"By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment. I found that +these people possessed a method of communicating their experience and +feelings to one another by articulate sounds. I perceived that the +words they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or +sadness, in the minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed +a godlike science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it. +But I was baffled in every attempt I made for this purpose. Their +pronunciation was quick, and the words they uttered, not having any +apparent connection with visible objects, I was unable to discover any +clue by which I could unravel the mystery of their reference. By great +application, however, and after having remained during the space of +several revolutions of the moon in my hovel, I discovered the names +that were given to some of the most familiar objects of discourse; I +learned and applied the words, 'fire,' 'milk,' 'bread,' and 'wood.' I +learned also the names of the cottagers themselves. The youth and his +companion had each of them several names, but the old man had only one, +which was 'father.' The girl was called 'sister' or 'Agatha,' and the +youth 'Felix,' 'brother,' or 'son.' I cannot describe the delight I +felt when I learned the ideas appropriated to each of these sounds and +was able to pronounce them. I distinguished several other words +without being able as yet to understand or apply them, such as 'good,' +'dearest,' 'unhappy.' +

+ +

+"I spent the winter in this manner. The gentle manners and beauty of +the cottagers greatly endeared them to me; when they were unhappy, I +felt depressed; when they rejoiced, I sympathized in their joys. I saw +few human beings besides them, and if any other happened to enter the +cottage, their harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced to me the +superior accomplishments of my friends. The old man, I could perceive, +often endeavoured to encourage his children, as sometimes I found that +he called them, to cast off their melancholy. He would talk in a +cheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure +even upon me. Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filled +with tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived; but I +generally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful after +having listened to the exhortations of her father. It was not thus +with Felix. He was always the saddest of the group, and even to my +unpractised senses, he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his +friends. But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more +cheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the old +man. +

+ +

+"I could mention innumerable instances which, although slight, marked +the dispositions of these amiable cottagers. In the midst of poverty +and want, Felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first little +white flower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground. Early in +the morning, before she had risen, he cleared away the snow that +obstructed her path to the milk-house, drew water from the well, and +brought the wood from the outhouse, where, to his perpetual +astonishment, he found his store always replenished by an invisible +hand. In the day, I believe, he worked sometimes for a neighbouring +farmer, because he often went forth and did not return until dinner, +yet brought no wood with him. At other times he worked in the garden, +but as there was little to do in the frosty season, he read to the old +man and Agatha. +

+ +

+"This reading had puzzled me extremely at first, but by degrees I +discovered that he uttered many of the same sounds when he read as when +he talked. I conjectured, therefore, that he found on the paper signs +for speech which he understood, and I ardently longed to comprehend +these also; but how was that possible when I did not even understand +the sounds for which they stood as signs? I improved, however, +sensibly in this science, but not sufficiently to follow up any kind of +conversation, although I applied my whole mind to the endeavour, for I +easily perceived that, although I eagerly longed to discover myself to +the cottagers, I ought not to make the attempt until I had first become +master of their language, which knowledge might enable me to make them +overlook the deformity of my figure, for with this also the contrast +perpetually presented to my eyes had made me acquainted. +

+ +

+"I had admired the perfect forms of my cottagers—their grace, beauty, +and delicate complexions; but how was I terrified when I viewed myself +in a transparent pool! At first I started back, unable to believe that +it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror; and when I became +fully convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was +filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification. +Alas! I did not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable +deformity. +

+ +

+"As the sun became warmer and the light of day longer, the snow +vanished, and I beheld the bare trees and the black earth. From this +time Felix was more employed, and the heart-moving indications of +impending famine disappeared. Their food, as I afterwards found, was +coarse, but it was wholesome; and they procured a sufficiency of it. +Several new kinds of plants sprang up in the garden, which they +dressed; and these signs of comfort increased daily as the season +advanced. +

+ +

+"The old man, leaning on his son, walked each day at noon, when it did +not rain, as I found it was called when the heavens poured forth its +waters. This frequently took place, but a high wind quickly dried the +earth, and the season became far more pleasant than it had been. +

+ +

+"My mode of life in my hovel was uniform. During the morning I +attended the motions of the cottagers, and when they were dispersed in +various occupations, I slept; the remainder of the day was spent in +observing my friends. When they had retired to rest, if there was any +moon or the night was star-light, I went into the woods and collected +my own food and fuel for the cottage. When I returned, as often as it +was necessary, I cleared their path from the snow and performed those +offices that I had seen done by Felix. I afterwards found that these +labours, performed by an invisible hand, greatly astonished them; and +once or twice I heard them, on these occasions, utter the words 'good +spirit,' 'wonderful'; but I did not then understand the signification +of these terms. +

+ +

+"My thoughts now became more active, and I longed to discover the +motives and feelings of these lovely creatures; I was inquisitive to +know why Felix appeared so miserable and Agatha so sad. I thought +(foolish wretch!) that it might be in my power to restore happiness to +these deserving people. When I slept or was absent, the forms of the +venerable blind father, the gentle Agatha, and the excellent Felix +flitted before me. I looked upon them as superior beings who would be +the arbiters of my future destiny. I formed in my imagination a +thousand pictures of presenting myself to them, and their reception of +me. I imagined that they would be disgusted, until, by my gentle +demeanour and conciliating words, I should first win their favour and +afterwards their love. +

+ +

+"These thoughts exhilarated me and led me to apply with fresh ardour to +the acquiring the art of language. My organs were indeed harsh, but +supple; and although my voice was very unlike the soft music of their +tones, yet I pronounced such words as I understood with tolerable ease. +It was as the ass and the lap-dog; yet surely the gentle ass whose +intentions were affectionate, although his manners were rude, deserved +better treatment than blows and execration. +

+ +

+"The pleasant showers and genial warmth of spring greatly altered the +aspect of the earth. Men who before this change seemed to have been +hid in caves dispersed themselves and were employed in various arts of +cultivation. The birds sang in more cheerful notes, and the leaves +began to bud forth on the trees. Happy, happy earth! Fit habitation +for gods, which, so short a time before, was bleak, damp, and +unwholesome. My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of +nature; the past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, +and the future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy." +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 13 +

+ +

+"I now hasten to the more moving part of my story. I shall relate +events that impressed me with feelings which, from what I had been, +have made me what I am. +

+ +

+"Spring advanced rapidly; the weather became fine and the skies +cloudless. It surprised me that what before was desert and gloomy +should now bloom with the most beautiful flowers and verdure. My +senses were gratified and refreshed by a thousand scents of delight and +a thousand sights of beauty. +

+ +

+"It was on one of these days, when my cottagers periodically rested +from labour—the old man played on his guitar, and the children +listened to him—that I observed the countenance of Felix was +melancholy beyond expression; he sighed frequently, and once his father +paused in his music, and I conjectured by his manner that he inquired +the cause of his son's sorrow. Felix replied in a cheerful accent, and +the old man was recommencing his music when someone tapped at the door. +

+ +

+"It was a lady on horseback, accompanied by a country-man as a guide. +The lady was dressed in a dark suit and covered with a thick black +veil. Agatha asked a question, to which the stranger only replied by +pronouncing, in a sweet accent, the name of Felix. Her voice was +musical but unlike that of either of my friends. On hearing this word, +Felix came up hastily to the lady, who, when she saw him, threw up her +veil, and I beheld a countenance of angelic beauty and expression. Her +hair of a shining raven black, and curiously braided; her eyes were +dark, but gentle, although animated; her features of a regular +proportion, and her complexion wondrously fair, each cheek tinged with +a lovely pink. +

+ +

+"Felix seemed ravished with delight when he saw her, every trait of +sorrow vanished from his face, and it instantly expressed a degree of +ecstatic joy, of which I could hardly have believed it capable; his +eyes sparkled, as his cheek flushed with pleasure; and at that moment I +thought him as beautiful as the stranger. She appeared affected by +different feelings; wiping a few tears from her lovely eyes, she held +out her hand to Felix, who kissed it rapturously and called her, as +well as I could distinguish, his sweet Arabian. She did not appear to +understand him, but smiled. He assisted her to dismount, and +dismissing her guide, conducted her into the cottage. Some +conversation took place between him and his father, and the young +stranger knelt at the old man's feet and would have kissed his hand, +but he raised her and embraced her affectionately. +

+ +

+"I soon perceived that although the stranger uttered articulate sounds +and appeared to have a language of her own, she was neither understood +by nor herself understood the cottagers. They made many signs which I +did not comprehend, but I saw that her presence diffused gladness +through the cottage, dispelling their sorrow as the sun dissipates the +morning mists. Felix seemed peculiarly happy and with smiles of +delight welcomed his Arabian. Agatha, the ever-gentle Agatha, kissed +the hands of the lovely stranger, and pointing to her brother, made +signs which appeared to me to mean that he had been sorrowful until she +came. Some hours passed thus, while they, by their countenances, +expressed joy, the cause of which I did not comprehend. Presently I +found, by the frequent recurrence of some sound which the stranger +repeated after them, that she was endeavouring to learn their language; +and the idea instantly occurred to me that I should make use of the +same instructions to the same end. The stranger learned about twenty +words at the first lesson; most of them, indeed, were those which I had +before understood, but I profited by the others. +

+ +

+"As night came on, Agatha and the Arabian retired early. When they +separated Felix kissed the hand of the stranger and said, 'Good night +sweet Safie.' He sat up much longer, conversing with his father, and +by the frequent repetition of her name I conjectured that their lovely +guest was the subject of their conversation. I ardently desired to +understand them, and bent every faculty towards that purpose, but found +it utterly impossible. +

+ +

+"The next morning Felix went out to his work, and after the usual +occupations of Agatha were finished, the Arabian sat at the feet of the +old man, and taking his guitar, played some airs so entrancingly +beautiful that they at once drew tears of sorrow and delight from my +eyes. She sang, and her voice flowed in a rich cadence, swelling or +dying away like a nightingale of the woods. +

+ +

+"When she had finished, she gave the guitar to Agatha, who at first +declined it. She played a simple air, and her voice accompanied it in +sweet accents, but unlike the wondrous strain of the stranger. The old +man appeared enraptured and said some words which Agatha endeavoured to +explain to Safie, and by which he appeared to wish to express that she +bestowed on him the greatest delight by her music. +

+ +

+"The days now passed as peaceably as before, with the sole alteration +that joy had taken place of sadness in the countenances of my friends. +Safie was always gay and happy; she and I improved rapidly in the +knowledge of language, so that in two months I began to comprehend most +of the words uttered by my protectors. +

+ +

+"In the meanwhile also the black ground was covered with herbage, and +the green banks interspersed with innumerable flowers, sweet to the +scent and the eyes, stars of pale radiance among the moonlight woods; +the sun became warmer, the nights clear and balmy; and my nocturnal +rambles were an extreme pleasure to me, although they were considerably +shortened by the late setting and early rising of the sun, for I never +ventured abroad during daylight, fearful of meeting with the same +treatment I had formerly endured in the first village which I entered. +

+ +

+"My days were spent in close attention, that I might more speedily +master the language; and I may boast that I improved more rapidly than +the Arabian, who understood very little and conversed in broken +accents, whilst I comprehended and could imitate almost every word that +was spoken. +

+ +

+"While I improved in speech, I also learned the science of letters as +it was taught to the stranger, and this opened before me a wide field +for wonder and delight. +

+ +

+"The book from which Felix instructed Safie was Volney's Ruins of +Empires. I should not have understood the purport of this book had not +Felix, in reading it, given very minute explanations. He had chosen +this work, he said, because the declamatory style was framed in +imitation of the Eastern authors. Through this work I obtained a +cursory knowledge of history and a view of the several empires at +present existing in the world; it gave me an insight into the manners, +governments, and religions of the different nations of the earth. I +heard of the slothful Asiatics, of the stupendous genius and mental +activity of the Grecians, of the wars and wonderful virtue of the early +Romans—of their subsequent degenerating—of the decline of that mighty +empire, of chivalry, Christianity, and kings. I heard of the discovery +of the American hemisphere and wept with Safie over the hapless fate of +its original inhabitants. +

+ +

+"These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings. Was +man, indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous and magnificent, yet so +vicious and base? He appeared at one time a mere scion of the evil +principle and at another as all that can be conceived of noble and +godlike. To be a great and virtuous man appeared the highest honour +that can befall a sensitive being; to be base and vicious, as many on +record have been, appeared the lowest degradation, a condition more +abject than that of the blind mole or harmless worm. For a long time I +could not conceive how one man could go forth to murder his fellow, or +even why there were laws and governments; but when I heard details of +vice and bloodshed, my wonder ceased and I turned away with disgust and +loathing. +

+ +

+"Every conversation of the cottagers now opened new wonders to me. +While I listened to the instructions which Felix bestowed upon the +Arabian, the strange system of human society was explained to me. I +heard of the division of property, of immense wealth and squalid +poverty, of rank, descent, and noble blood. +

+ +

+"The words induced me to turn towards myself. I learned that the +possessions most esteemed by your fellow creatures were high and +unsullied descent united with riches. A man might be respected with +only one of these advantages, but without either he was considered, +except in very rare instances, as a vagabond and a slave, doomed to +waste his powers for the profits of the chosen few! And what was I? Of +my creation and creator I was absolutely ignorant, but I knew that I +possessed no money, no friends, no kind of property. I was, besides, +endued with a figure hideously deformed and loathsome; I was not even +of the same nature as man. I was more agile than they and could +subsist upon coarser diet; I bore the extremes of heat and cold with +less injury to my frame; my stature far exceeded theirs. When I looked +around I saw and heard of none like me. Was I, then, a monster, a blot +upon the earth, from which all men fled and whom all men disowned? +

+ +

+"I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted +upon me; I tried to dispel them, but sorrow only increased with +knowledge. Oh, that I had forever remained in my native wood, nor +known nor felt beyond the sensations of hunger, thirst, and heat! +

+ +

+"Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind when it +has once seized on it like a lichen on the rock. I wished sometimes to +shake off all thought and feeling, but I learned that there was but one +means to overcome the sensation of pain, and that was death—a state +which I feared yet did not understand. I admired virtue and good +feelings and loved the gentle manners and amiable qualities of my +cottagers, but I was shut out from intercourse with them, except +through means which I obtained by stealth, when I was unseen and +unknown, and which rather increased than satisfied the desire I had of +becoming one among my fellows. The gentle words of Agatha and the +animated smiles of the charming Arabian were not for me. The mild +exhortations of the old man and the lively conversation of the loved +Felix were not for me. Miserable, unhappy wretch! +

+ +

+"Other lessons were impressed upon me even more deeply. I heard of the +difference of sexes, and the birth and growth of children, how the +father doted on the smiles of the infant, and the lively sallies of the +older child, how all the life and cares of the mother were wrapped up +in the precious charge, how the mind of youth expanded and gained +knowledge, of brother, sister, and all the various relationships which +bind one human being to another in mutual bonds. +

+ +

+"But where were my friends and relations? No father had watched my +infant days, no mother had blessed me with smiles and caresses; or if +they had, all my past life was now a blot, a blind vacancy in which I +distinguished nothing. From my earliest remembrance I had been as I +then was in height and proportion. I had never yet seen a being +resembling me or who claimed any intercourse with me. What was I? The +question again recurred, to be answered only with groans. +

+ +

+"I will soon explain to what these feelings tended, but allow me now to +return to the cottagers, whose story excited in me such various +feelings of indignation, delight, and wonder, but which all terminated +in additional love and reverence for my protectors (for so I loved, in +an innocent, half-painful self-deceit, to call them)." +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 14 +

+ +

+"Some time elapsed before I learned the history of my friends. It was +one which could not fail to impress itself deeply on my mind, unfolding +as it did a number of circumstances, each interesting and wonderful to +one so utterly inexperienced as I was. +

+ +

+"The name of the old man was De Lacey. He was descended from a good +family in France, where he had lived for many years in affluence, +respected by his superiors and beloved by his equals. His son was bred +in the service of his country, and Agatha had ranked with ladies of the +highest distinction. A few months before my arrival they had lived in +a large and luxurious city called Paris, surrounded by friends and +possessed of every enjoyment which virtue, refinement of intellect, or +taste, accompanied by a moderate fortune, could afford. +

+ +

+"The father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin. He was a +Turkish merchant and had inhabited Paris for many years, when, for some +reason which I could not learn, he became obnoxious to the government. +He was seized and cast into prison the very day that Safie arrived from +Constantinople to join him. He was tried and condemned to death. The +injustice of his sentence was very flagrant; all Paris was indignant; +and it was judged that his religion and wealth rather than the crime +alleged against him had been the cause of his condemnation. +

+ +

+"Felix had accidentally been present at the trial; his horror and +indignation were uncontrollable when he heard the decision of the +court. He made, at that moment, a solemn vow to deliver him and then +looked around for the means. After many fruitless attempts to gain +admittance to the prison, he found a strongly grated window in an +unguarded part of the building, which lighted the dungeon of the +unfortunate Muhammadan, who, loaded with chains, waited in despair the +execution of the barbarous sentence. Felix visited the grate at night +and made known to the prisoner his intentions in his favour. The Turk, +amazed and delighted, endeavoured to kindle the zeal of his deliverer +by promises of reward and wealth. Felix rejected his offers with +contempt, yet when he saw the lovely Safie, who was allowed to visit +her father and who by her gestures expressed her lively gratitude, the +youth could not help owning to his own mind that the captive possessed +a treasure which would fully reward his toil and hazard. +

+ +

+"The Turk quickly perceived the impression that his daughter had made +on the heart of Felix and endeavoured to secure him more entirely in +his interests by the promise of her hand in marriage so soon as he +should be conveyed to a place of safety. Felix was too delicate to +accept this offer, yet he looked forward to the probability of the +event as to the consummation of his happiness. +

+ +

+"During the ensuing days, while the preparations were going forward for +the escape of the merchant, the zeal of Felix was warmed by several +letters that he received from this lovely girl, who found means to +express her thoughts in the language of her lover by the aid of an old +man, a servant of her father who understood French. She thanked him in +the most ardent terms for his intended services towards her parent, and +at the same time she gently deplored her own fate. +

+ +

+"I have copies of these letters, for I found means, during my residence +in the hovel, to procure the implements of writing; and the letters +were often in the hands of Felix or Agatha. Before I depart I will +give them to you; they will prove the truth of my tale; but at present, +as the sun is already far declined, I shall only have time to repeat +the substance of them to you. +

+ +

+"Safie related that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a +slave by the Turks; recommended by her beauty, she had won the heart of +the father of Safie, who married her. The young girl spoke in high and +enthusiastic terms of her mother, who, born in freedom, spurned the +bondage to which she was now reduced. She instructed her daughter in +the tenets of her religion and taught her to aspire to higher powers of +intellect and an independence of spirit forbidden to the female +followers of Muhammad. This lady died, but her lessons were indelibly +impressed on the mind of Safie, who sickened at the prospect of again +returning to Asia and being immured within the walls of a harem, +allowed only to occupy herself with infantile amusements, ill-suited to +the temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a noble +emulation for virtue. The prospect of marrying a Christian and +remaining in a country where women were allowed to take a rank in +society was enchanting to her. +

+ +

+"The day for the execution of the Turk was fixed, but on the night +previous to it he quitted his prison and before morning was distant +many leagues from Paris. Felix had procured passports in the name of +his father, sister, and himself. He had previously communicated his +plan to the former, who aided the deceit by quitting his house, under +the pretence of a journey and concealed himself, with his daughter, in +an obscure part of Paris. +

+ +

+"Felix conducted the fugitives through France to Lyons and across Mont +Cenis to Leghorn, where the merchant had decided to wait a favourable +opportunity of passing into some part of the Turkish dominions. +

+ +

+"Safie resolved to remain with her father until the moment of his +departure, before which time the Turk renewed his promise that she +should be united to his deliverer; and Felix remained with them in +expectation of that event; and in the meantime he enjoyed the society +of the Arabian, who exhibited towards him the simplest and tenderest +affection. They conversed with one another through the means of an +interpreter, and sometimes with the interpretation of looks; and Safie +sang to him the divine airs of her native country. +

+ +

+"The Turk allowed this intimacy to take place and encouraged the hopes +of the youthful lovers, while in his heart he had formed far other +plans. He loathed the idea that his daughter should be united to a +Christian, but he feared the resentment of Felix if he should appear +lukewarm, for he knew that he was still in the power of his deliverer +if he should choose to betray him to the Italian state which they +inhabited. He revolved a thousand plans by which he should be enabled +to prolong the deceit until it might be no longer necessary, and +secretly to take his daughter with him when he departed. His plans +were facilitated by the news which arrived from Paris. +

+ +

+"The government of France were greatly enraged at the escape of their +victim and spared no pains to detect and punish his deliverer. The +plot of Felix was quickly discovered, and De Lacey and Agatha were +thrown into prison. The news reached Felix and roused him from his +dream of pleasure. His blind and aged father and his gentle sister lay +in a noisome dungeon while he enjoyed the free air and the society of +her whom he loved. This idea was torture to him. He quickly arranged +with the Turk that if the latter should find a favourable opportunity +for escape before Felix could return to Italy, Safie should remain as a +boarder at a convent at Leghorn; and then, quitting the lovely Arabian, +he hastened to Paris and delivered himself up to the vengeance of the +law, hoping to free De Lacey and Agatha by this proceeding. +

+ +

+"He did not succeed. They remained confined for five months before the +trial took place, the result of which deprived them of their fortune +and condemned them to a perpetual exile from their native country. +

+ +

+"They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany, where I +discovered them. Felix soon learned that the treacherous Turk, for +whom he and his family endured such unheard-of oppression, on +discovering that his deliverer was thus reduced to poverty and ruin, +became a traitor to good feeling and honour and had quitted Italy with +his daughter, insultingly sending Felix a pittance of money to aid him, +as he said, in some plan of future maintenance. +

+ +

+"Such were the events that preyed on the heart of Felix and rendered +him, when I first saw him, the most miserable of his family. He could +have endured poverty, and while this distress had been the meed of his +virtue, he gloried in it; but the ingratitude of the Turk and the loss +of his beloved Safie were misfortunes more bitter and irreparable. The +arrival of the Arabian now infused new life into his soul. +

+ +

+"When the news reached Leghorn that Felix was deprived of his wealth +and rank, the merchant commanded his daughter to think no more of her +lover, but to prepare to return to her native country. The generous +nature of Safie was outraged by this command; she attempted to +expostulate with her father, but he left her angrily, reiterating his +tyrannical mandate. +

+ +

+"A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter's apartment and told +her hastily that he had reason to believe that his residence at Leghorn +had been divulged and that he should speedily be delivered up to the +French government; he had consequently hired a vessel to convey him to +Constantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours. He +intended to leave his daughter under the care of a confidential +servant, to follow at her leisure with the greater part of his +property, which had not yet arrived at Leghorn. +

+ +

+"When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that it +would become her to pursue in this emergency. A residence in Turkey +was abhorrent to her; her religion and her feelings were alike averse +to it. By some papers of her father which fell into her hands she +heard of the exile of her lover and learnt the name of the spot where +he then resided. She hesitated some time, but at length she formed her +determination. Taking with her some jewels that belonged to her and a +sum of money, she quitted Italy with an attendant, a native of Leghorn, +but who understood the common language of Turkey, and departed for +Germany. +

+ +

+"She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues from the cottage +of De Lacey, when her attendant fell dangerously ill. Safie nursed her +with the most devoted affection, but the poor girl died, and the +Arabian was left alone, unacquainted with the language of the country +and utterly ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell, however, +into good hands. The Italian had mentioned the name of the spot for +which they were bound, and after her death the woman of the house in +which they had lived took care that Safie should arrive in safety at +the cottage of her lover." +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 15 +

+ +

+"Such was the history of my beloved cottagers. It impressed me deeply. +I learned, from the views of social life which it developed, to admire +their virtues and to deprecate the vices of mankind. +

+ +

+"As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil, benevolence and +generosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a desire to +become an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualities +were called forth and displayed. But in giving an account of the +progress of my intellect, I must not omit a circumstance which occurred +in the beginning of the month of August of the same year. +

+ +

+"One night during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring wood where I +collected my own food and brought home firing for my protectors, I +found on the ground a leathern portmanteau containing several articles +of dress and some books. I eagerly seized the prize and returned with +it to my hovel. Fortunately the books were written in the language, +the elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of +Paradise Lost, a volume of Plutarch's Lives, and the Sorrows of Werter. +The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I now +continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories, whilst +my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations. +

+ +

+"I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They produced +in me an infinity of new images and feelings, that sometimes raised me +to ecstasy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In +the Sorrows of Werter, besides the interest of its simple and affecting +story, so many opinions are canvassed and so many lights thrown upon +what had hitherto been to me obscure subjects that I found in it a +never-ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle and +domestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and +feelings, which had for their object something out of self, accorded +well with my experience among my protectors and with the wants which +were forever alive in my own bosom. But I thought Werter himself a +more divine being than I had ever beheld or imagined; his character +contained no pretension, but it sank deep. The disquisitions upon +death and suicide were calculated to fill me with wonder. I did not +pretend to enter into the merits of the case, yet I inclined towards +the opinions of the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely +understanding it. +

+ +

+"As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and +condition. I found myself similar yet at the same time strangely +unlike to the beings concerning whom I read and to whose conversation I +was a listener. I sympathized with and partly understood them, but I +was unformed in mind; I was dependent on none and related to none. +'The path of my departure was free,' and there was none to lament my +annihilation. My person was hideous and my stature gigantic. What did +this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my +destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to +solve them. +

+ +

+"The volume of Plutarch's Lives which I possessed contained the +histories of the first founders of the ancient republics. This book +had a far different effect upon me from the Sorrows of Werter. I +learned from Werter's imaginations despondency and gloom, but Plutarch +taught me high thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched sphere of my +own reflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Many +things I read surpassed my understanding and experience. I had a very +confused knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers, +and boundless seas. But I was perfectly unacquainted with towns and +large assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been the +only school in which I had studied human nature, but this book +developed new and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned +in public affairs, governing or massacring their species. I felt the +greatest ardour for virtue rise within me, and abhorrence for vice, as +far as I understood the signification of those terms, relative as they +were, as I applied them, to pleasure and pain alone. Induced by these +feelings, I was of course led to admire peaceable lawgivers, Numa, +Solon, and Lycurgus, in preference to Romulus and Theseus. The +patriarchal lives of my protectors caused these impressions to take a +firm hold on my mind; perhaps, if my first introduction to humanity had +been made by a young soldier, burning for glory and slaughter, I should +have been imbued with different sensations. +

+ +

+"But Paradise Lost excited different and far deeper emotions. I read +it, as I had read the other volumes which had fallen into my hands, as +a true history. It moved every feeling of wonder and awe that the +picture of an omnipotent God warring with his creatures was capable of +exciting. I often referred the several situations, as their similarity +struck me, to my own. Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link to +any other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine +in every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a +perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of +his Creator; he was allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge from +beings of a superior nature, but I was wretched, helpless, and alone. +Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition, for +often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter +gall of envy rose within me. +

+ +

+"Another circumstance strengthened and confirmed these feelings. Soon +after my arrival in the hovel I discovered some papers in the pocket of +the dress which I had taken from your laboratory. At first I had +neglected them, but now that I was able to decipher the characters in +which they were written, I began to study them with diligence. It was +your journal of the four months that preceded my creation. You +minutely described in these papers every step you took in the progress +of your work; this history was mingled with accounts of domestic +occurrences. You doubtless recollect these papers. Here they are. +Everything is related in them which bears reference to my accursed +origin; the whole detail of that series of disgusting circumstances +which produced it is set in view; the minutest description of my odious +and loathsome person is given, in language which painted your own +horrors and rendered mine indelible. I sickened as I read. 'Hateful +day when I received life!' I exclaimed in agony. 'Accursed creator! +Why did you form a monster so hideous that even YOU turned from me in +disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own +image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the +very resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire +and encourage him, but I am solitary and abhorred.' +

+ +

+"These were the reflections of my hours of despondency and solitude; +but when I contemplated the virtues of the cottagers, their amiable and +benevolent dispositions, I persuaded myself that when they should +become acquainted with my admiration of their virtues they would +compassionate me and overlook my personal deformity. Could they turn +from their door one, however monstrous, who solicited their compassion +and friendship? I resolved, at least, not to despair, but in every way +to fit myself for an interview with them which would decide my fate. I +postponed this attempt for some months longer, for the importance +attached to its success inspired me with a dread lest I should fail. +Besides, I found that my understanding improved so much with every +day's experience that I was unwilling to commence this undertaking +until a few more months should have added to my sagacity. +

+ +

+"Several changes, in the meantime, took place in the cottage. The +presence of Safie diffused happiness among its inhabitants, and I also +found that a greater degree of plenty reigned there. Felix and Agatha +spent more time in amusement and conversation, and were assisted in +their labours by servants. They did not appear rich, but they were +contented and happy; their feelings were serene and peaceful, while +mine became every day more tumultuous. Increase of knowledge only +discovered to me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was. I +cherished hope, it is true, but it vanished when I beheld my person +reflected in water or my shadow in the moonshine, even as that frail +image and that inconstant shade. +

+ +

+"I endeavoured to crush these fears and to fortify myself for the trial +which in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes I allowed my +thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, and +dared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathizing with my +feelings and cheering my gloom; their angelic countenances breathed +smiles of consolation. But it was all a dream; no Eve soothed my +sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam's +supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me, +and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him. +

+ +

+"Autumn passed thus. I saw, with surprise and grief, the leaves decay +and fall, and nature again assume the barren and bleak appearance it +had worn when I first beheld the woods and the lovely moon. Yet I did +not heed the bleakness of the weather; I was better fitted by my +conformation for the endurance of cold than heat. But my chief +delights were the sight of the flowers, the birds, and all the gay +apparel of summer; when those deserted me, I turned with more attention +towards the cottagers. Their happiness was not decreased by the +absence of summer. They loved and sympathized with one another; and +their joys, depending on each other, were not interrupted by the +casualties that took place around them. The more I saw of them, the +greater became my desire to claim their protection and kindness; my +heart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures; to see +their sweet looks directed towards me with affection was the utmost +limit of my ambition. I dared not think that they would turn them from +me with disdain and horror. The poor that stopped at their door were +never driven away. I asked, it is true, for greater treasures than a +little food or rest: I required kindness and sympathy; but I did not +believe myself utterly unworthy of it. +

+ +

+"The winter advanced, and an entire revolution of the seasons had taken +place since I awoke into life. My attention at this time was solely +directed towards my plan of introducing myself into the cottage of my +protectors. I revolved many projects, but that on which I finally +fixed was to enter the dwelling when the blind old man should be alone. +I had sagacity enough to discover that the unnatural hideousness of my +person was the chief object of horror with those who had formerly +beheld me. My voice, although harsh, had nothing terrible in it; I +thought, therefore, that if in the absence of his children I could gain +the good will and mediation of the old De Lacey, I might by his means +be tolerated by my younger protectors. +

+ +

+"One day, when the sun shone on the red leaves that strewed the ground +and diffused cheerfulness, although it denied warmth, Safie, Agatha, +and Felix departed on a long country walk, and the old man, at his own +desire, was left alone in the cottage. When his children had departed, +he took up his guitar and played several mournful but sweet airs, more +sweet and mournful than I had ever heard him play before. At first his +countenance was illuminated with pleasure, but as he continued, +thoughtfulness and sadness succeeded; at length, laying aside the +instrument, he sat absorbed in reflection. +

+ +

+"My heart beat quick; this was the hour and moment of trial, which +would decide my hopes or realize my fears. The servants were gone to a +neighbouring fair. All was silent in and around the cottage; it was an +excellent opportunity; yet, when I proceeded to execute my plan, my +limbs failed me and I sank to the ground. Again I rose, and exerting +all the firmness of which I was master, removed the planks which I had +placed before my hovel to conceal my retreat. The fresh air revived +me, and with renewed determination I approached the door of their +cottage. +

+ +

+"I knocked. 'Who is there?' said the old man. 'Come in.' +

+ +

+"I entered. 'Pardon this intrusion,' said I; 'I am a traveller in want +of a little rest; you would greatly oblige me if you would allow me to +remain a few minutes before the fire.' +

+ +

+"'Enter,' said De Lacey, 'and I will try in what manner I can to +relieve your wants; but, unfortunately, my children are from home, and +as I am blind, I am afraid I shall find it difficult to procure food +for you.' +

+ +

+"'Do not trouble yourself, my kind host; I have food; it is warmth and +rest only that I need.' +

+ +

+"I sat down, and a silence ensued. I knew that every minute was +precious to me, yet I remained irresolute in what manner to commence +the interview, when the old man addressed me. 'By your language, +stranger, I suppose you are my countryman; are you French?' +

+ +

+"'No; but I was educated by a French family and understand that +language only. I am now going to claim the protection of some friends, +whom I sincerely love, and of whose favour I have some hopes.' +

+ +

+"'Are they Germans?' +

+ +

+"'No, they are French. But let us change the subject. I am an +unfortunate and deserted creature, I look around and I have no relation +or friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never +seen me and know little of me. I am full of fears, for if I fail +there, I am an outcast in the world forever.' +

+ +

+"'Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate, but +the hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, are +full of brotherly love and charity. Rely, therefore, on your hopes; +and if these friends are good and amiable, do not despair.' +

+ +

+"'They are kind—they are the most excellent creatures in the world; +but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I have good +dispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless and in some degree +beneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they +ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable +monster.' +

+ +

+"'That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are really blameless, cannot +you undeceive them?' +

+ +

+"'I am about to undertake that task; and it is on that account that I +feel so many overwhelming terrors. I tenderly love these friends; I +have, unknown to them, been for many months in the habits of daily +kindness towards them; but they believe that I wish to injure them, and +it is that prejudice which I wish to overcome.' +

+ +

+"'Where do these friends reside?' +

+ +

+"'Near this spot.' +

+ +

+"The old man paused and then continued, 'If you will unreservedly +confide to me the particulars of your tale, I perhaps may be of use in +undeceiving them. I am blind and cannot judge of your countenance, but +there is something in your words which persuades me that you are +sincere. I am poor and an exile, but it will afford me true pleasure +to be in any way serviceable to a human creature.' +

+ +

+"'Excellent man! I thank you and accept your generous offer. You +raise me from the dust by this kindness; and I trust that, by your aid, +I shall not be driven from the society and sympathy of your fellow +creatures.' +

+ +

+"'Heaven forbid! Even if you were really criminal, for that can only +drive you to desperation, and not instigate you to virtue. I also am +unfortunate; I and my family have been condemned, although innocent; +judge, therefore, if I do not feel for your misfortunes.' +

+ +

+"'How can I thank you, my best and only benefactor? From your lips +first have I heard the voice of kindness directed towards me; I shall +be forever grateful; and your present humanity assures me of success +with those friends whom I am on the point of meeting.' +

+ +

+"'May I know the names and residence of those friends?' +

+ +

+"I paused. This, I thought, was the moment of decision, which was to +rob me of or bestow happiness on me forever. I struggled vainly for +firmness sufficient to answer him, but the effort destroyed all my +remaining strength; I sank on the chair and sobbed aloud. At that +moment I heard the steps of my younger protectors. I had not a moment +to lose, but seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, 'Now is the +time! Save and protect me! You and your family are the friends whom I +seek. Do not you desert me in the hour of trial!' +

+ +

+"'Great God!' exclaimed the old man. 'Who are you?' +

+ +

+"At that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and +Agatha entered. Who can describe their horror and consternation on +beholding me? Agatha fainted, and Safie, unable to attend to her +friend, rushed out of the cottage. Felix darted forward, and with +supernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung, in +a transport of fury, he dashed me to the ground and struck me violently +with a stick. I could have torn him limb from limb, as the lion rends +the antelope. But my heart sank within me as with bitter sickness, and +I refrained. I saw him on the point of repeating his blow, when, +overcome by pain and anguish, I quitted the cottage, and in the general +tumult escaped unperceived to my hovel." +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 16 +

+ +

+"Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I +not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly +bestowed? I know not; despair had not yet taken possession of me; my +feelings were those of rage and revenge. I could with pleasure have +destroyed the cottage and its inhabitants and have glutted myself with +their shrieks and misery. +

+ +

+"When night came I quitted my retreat and wandered in the wood; and +now, no longer restrained by the fear of discovery, I gave vent to my +anguish in fearful howlings. I was like a wild beast that had broken +the toils, destroying the objects that obstructed me and ranging +through the wood with a stag-like swiftness. Oh! What a miserable +night I passed! The cold stars shone in mockery, and the bare trees +waved their branches above me; now and then the sweet voice of a bird +burst forth amidst the universal stillness. All, save I, were at rest +or in enjoyment; I, like the arch-fiend, bore a hell within me, and +finding myself unsympathized with, wished to tear up the trees, spread +havoc and destruction around me, and then to have sat down and enjoyed +the ruin. +

+ +

+"But this was a luxury of sensation that could not endure; I became +fatigued with excess of bodily exertion and sank on the damp grass in +the sick impotence of despair. There was none among the myriads of men +that existed who would pity or assist me; and should I feel kindness +towards my enemies? No; from that moment I declared everlasting war +against the species, and more than all, against him who had formed me +and sent me forth to this insupportable misery. +

+ +

+"The sun rose; I heard the voices of men and knew that it was +impossible to return to my retreat during that day. Accordingly I hid +myself in some thick underwood, determining to devote the ensuing hours +to reflection on my situation. +

+ +

+"The pleasant sunshine and the pure air of day restored me to some +degree of tranquillity; and when I considered what had passed at the +cottage, I could not help believing that I had been too hasty in my +conclusions. I had certainly acted imprudently. It was apparent that +my conversation had interested the father in my behalf, and I was a +fool in having exposed my person to the horror of his children. I +ought to have familiarized the old De Lacey to me, and by degrees to +have discovered myself to the rest of his family, when they should have +been prepared for my approach. But I did not believe my errors to be +irretrievable, and after much consideration I resolved to return to the +cottage, seek the old man, and by my representations win him to my +party. +

+ +

+"These thoughts calmed me, and in the afternoon I sank into a profound +sleep; but the fever of my blood did not allow me to be visited by +peaceful dreams. The horrible scene of the preceding day was forever +acting before my eyes; the females were flying and the enraged Felix +tearing me from his father's feet. I awoke exhausted, and finding that +it was already night, I crept forth from my hiding-place, and went in +search of food. +

+ +

+"When my hunger was appeased, I directed my steps towards the +well-known path that conducted to the cottage. All there was at peace. +I crept into my hovel and remained in silent expectation of the +accustomed hour when the family arose. That hour passed, the sun +mounted high in the heavens, but the cottagers did not appear. I +trembled violently, apprehending some dreadful misfortune. The inside +of the cottage was dark, and I heard no motion; I cannot describe the +agony of this suspense. +

+ +

+"Presently two countrymen passed by, but pausing near the cottage, they +entered into conversation, using violent gesticulations; but I did not +understand what they said, as they spoke the language of the country, +which differed from that of my protectors. Soon after, however, Felix +approached with another man; I was surprised, as I knew that he had not +quitted the cottage that morning, and waited anxiously to discover from +his discourse the meaning of these unusual appearances. +

+ +

+"'Do you consider,' said his companion to him, 'that you will be +obliged to pay three months' rent and to lose the produce of your +garden? I do not wish to take any unfair advantage, and I beg +therefore that you will take some days to consider of your +determination.' +

+ +

+"'It is utterly useless,' replied Felix; 'we can never again inhabit +your cottage. The life of my father is in the greatest danger, owing +to the dreadful circumstance that I have related. My wife and my +sister will never recover from their horror. I entreat you not to +reason with me any more. Take possession of your tenement and let me +fly from this place.' +

+ +

+"Felix trembled violently as he said this. He and his companion +entered the cottage, in which they remained for a few minutes, and then +departed. I never saw any of the family of De Lacey more. +

+ +

+"I continued for the remainder of the day in my hovel in a state of +utter and stupid despair. My protectors had departed and had broken +the only link that held me to the world. For the first time the +feelings of revenge and hatred filled my bosom, and I did not strive to +control them, but allowing myself to be borne away by the stream, I +bent my mind towards injury and death. When I thought of my friends, +of the mild voice of De Lacey, the gentle eyes of Agatha, and the +exquisite beauty of the Arabian, these thoughts vanished and a gush of +tears somewhat soothed me. But again when I reflected that they had +spurned and deserted me, anger returned, a rage of anger, and unable to +injure anything human, I turned my fury towards inanimate objects. As +night advanced I placed a variety of combustibles around the cottage, +and after having destroyed every vestige of cultivation in the garden, +I waited with forced impatience until the moon had sunk to commence my +operations. +

+ +

+"As the night advanced, a fierce wind arose from the woods and quickly +dispersed the clouds that had loitered in the heavens; the blast tore +along like a mighty avalanche and produced a kind of insanity in my +spirits that burst all bounds of reason and reflection. I lighted the +dry branch of a tree and danced with fury around the devoted cottage, +my eyes still fixed on the western horizon, the edge of which the moon +nearly touched. A part of its orb was at length hid, and I waved my +brand; it sank, and with a loud scream I fired the straw, and heath, +and bushes, which I had collected. The wind fanned the fire, and the +cottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to it and +licked it with their forked and destroying tongues. +

+ +

+"As soon as I was convinced that no assistance could save any part of +the habitation, I quitted the scene and sought for refuge in the woods. +

+ +

+"And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps? I +resolved to fly far from the scene of my misfortunes; but to me, hated +and despised, every country must be equally horrible. At length the +thought of you crossed my mind. I learned from your papers that you +were my father, my creator; and to whom could I apply with more fitness +than to him who had given me life? Among the lessons that Felix had +bestowed upon Safie, geography had not been omitted; I had learned from +these the relative situations of the different countries of the earth. +You had mentioned Geneva as the name of your native town, and towards +this place I resolved to proceed. +

+ +

+"But how was I to direct myself? I knew that I must travel in a +southwesterly direction to reach my destination, but the sun was my +only guide. I did not know the names of the towns that I was to pass +through, nor could I ask information from a single human being; but I +did not despair. From you only could I hope for succour, although +towards you I felt no sentiment but that of hatred. Unfeeling, +heartless creator! You had endowed me with perceptions and passions +and then cast me abroad an object for the scorn and horror of mankind. +But on you only had I any claim for pity and redress, and from you I +determined to seek that justice which I vainly attempted to gain from +any other being that wore the human form. +

+ +

+"My travels were long and the sufferings I endured intense. It was +late in autumn when I quitted the district where I had so long resided. +I travelled only at night, fearful of encountering the visage of a +human being. Nature decayed around me, and the sun became heatless; +rain and snow poured around me; mighty rivers were frozen; the surface +of the earth was hard and chill, and bare, and I found no shelter. Oh, +earth! How often did I imprecate curses on the cause of my being! The +mildness of my nature had fled, and all within me was turned to gall +and bitterness. The nearer I approached to your habitation, the more +deeply did I feel the spirit of revenge enkindled in my heart. Snow +fell, and the waters were hardened, but I rested not. A few incidents +now and then directed me, and I possessed a map of the country; but I +often wandered wide from my path. The agony of my feelings allowed me +no respite; no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could +not extract its food; but a circumstance that happened when I arrived +on the confines of Switzerland, when the sun had recovered its warmth +and the earth again began to look green, confirmed in an especial +manner the bitterness and horror of my feelings. +

+ +

+"I generally rested during the day and travelled only when I was +secured by night from the view of man. One morning, however, finding +that my path lay through a deep wood, I ventured to continue my journey +after the sun had risen; the day, which was one of the first of spring, +cheered even me by the loveliness of its sunshine and the balminess of +the air. I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long +appeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty of +these sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them, and +forgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy. Soft tears +again bedewed my cheeks, and I even raised my humid eyes with +thankfulness towards the blessed sun, which bestowed such joy upon me. +

+ +

+"I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to its +boundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river, into which many +of the trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring. +Here I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard +the sound of voices, that induced me to conceal myself under the shade +of a cypress. I was scarcely hid when a young girl came running +towards the spot where I was concealed, laughing, as if she ran from +someone in sport. She continued her course along the precipitous sides +of the river, when suddenly her foot slipped, and she fell into the +rapid stream. I rushed from my hiding-place and with extreme labour, +from the force of the current, saved her and dragged her to shore. She +was senseless, and I endeavoured by every means in my power to restore +animation, when I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic, +who was probably the person from whom she had playfully fled. On +seeing me, he darted towards me, and tearing the girl from my arms, +hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily, I +hardly knew why; but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun, +which he carried, at my body and fired. I sank to the ground, and my +injurer, with increased swiftness, escaped into the wood. +

+ +

+"This was then the reward of my benevolence! I had saved a human being +from destruction, and as a recompense I now writhed under the miserable +pain of a wound which shattered the flesh and bone. The feelings of +kindness and gentleness which I had entertained but a few moments +before gave place to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth. Inflamed by +pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind. But the +agony of my wound overcame me; my pulses paused, and I fainted. +

+ +

+"For some weeks I led a miserable life in the woods, endeavouring to +cure the wound which I had received. The ball had entered my shoulder, +and I knew not whether it had remained there or passed through; at any +rate I had no means of extracting it. My sufferings were augmented +also by the oppressive sense of the injustice and ingratitude of their +infliction. My daily vows rose for revenge—a deep and deadly revenge, +such as would alone compensate for the outrages and anguish I had +endured. +

+ +

+"After some weeks my wound healed, and I continued my journey. The +labours I endured were no longer to be alleviated by the bright sun or +gentle breezes of spring; all joy was but a mockery which insulted my +desolate state and made me feel more painfully that I was not made for +the enjoyment of pleasure. +

+ +

+"But my toils now drew near a close, and in two months from this time I +reached the environs of Geneva. +

+ +

+"It was evening when I arrived, and I retired to a hiding-place among +the fields that surround it to meditate in what manner I should apply +to you. I was oppressed by fatigue and hunger and far too unhappy to +enjoy the gentle breezes of evening or the prospect of the sun setting +behind the stupendous mountains of Jura. +

+ +

+"At this time a slight sleep relieved me from the pain of reflection, +which was disturbed by the approach of a beautiful child, who came +running into the recess I had chosen, with all the sportiveness of +infancy. Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me that this +little creature was unprejudiced and had lived too short a time to have +imbibed a horror of deformity. If, therefore, I could seize him and +educate him as my companion and friend, I should not be so desolate in +this peopled earth. +

+ +

+"Urged by this impulse, I seized on the boy as he passed and drew him +towards me. As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands before +his eyes and uttered a shrill scream; I drew his hand forcibly from his +face and said, 'Child, what is the meaning of this? I do not intend to +hurt you; listen to me.' +

+ +

+"He struggled violently. 'Let me go,' he cried; 'monster! Ugly +wretch! You wish to eat me and tear me to pieces. You are an ogre. +Let me go, or I will tell my papa.' +

+ +

+"'Boy, you will never see your father again; you must come with me.' +

+ +

+"'Hideous monster! Let me go. My papa is a syndic—he is M. +Frankenstein—he will punish you. You dare not keep me.' +

+ +

+"'Frankenstein! you belong then to my enemy—to him towards whom I have +sworn eternal revenge; you shall be my first victim.' +

+ +

+"The child still struggled and loaded me with epithets which carried +despair to my heart; I grasped his throat to silence him, and in a +moment he lay dead at my feet. +

+ +

+"I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellish +triumph; clapping my hands, I exclaimed, 'I too can create desolation; +my enemy is not invulnerable; this death will carry despair to him, and +a thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him.' +

+ +

+"As I fixed my eyes on the child, I saw something glittering on his +breast. I took it; it was a portrait of a most lovely woman. In spite +of my malignity, it softened and attracted me. For a few moments I +gazed with delight on her dark eyes, fringed by deep lashes, and her +lovely lips; but presently my rage returned; I remembered that I was +forever deprived of the delights that such beautiful creatures could +bestow and that she whose resemblance I contemplated would, in +regarding me, have changed that air of divine benignity to one +expressive of disgust and affright. +

+ +

+"Can you wonder that such thoughts transported me with rage? I only +wonder that at that moment, instead of venting my sensations in +exclamations and agony, I did not rush among mankind and perish in the +attempt to destroy them. +

+ +

+"While I was overcome by these feelings, I left the spot where I had +committed the murder, and seeking a more secluded hiding-place, I +entered a barn which had appeared to me to be empty. A woman was +sleeping on some straw; she was young, not indeed so beautiful as her +whose portrait I held, but of an agreeable aspect and blooming in the +loveliness of youth and health. Here, I thought, is one of those whose +joy-imparting smiles are bestowed on all but me. And then I bent over +her and whispered, 'Awake, fairest, thy lover is near—he who would +give his life but to obtain one look of affection from thine eyes; my +beloved, awake!' +

+ +

+"The sleeper stirred; a thrill of terror ran through me. Should she +indeed awake, and see me, and curse me, and denounce the murderer? Thus +would she assuredly act if her darkened eyes opened and she beheld me. +The thought was madness; it stirred the fiend within me—not I, but +she, shall suffer; the murder I have committed because I am forever +robbed of all that she could give me, she shall atone. The crime had +its source in her; be hers the punishment! Thanks to the lessons of +Felix and the sanguinary laws of man, I had learned now to work +mischief. I bent over her and placed the portrait securely in one of +the folds of her dress. She moved again, and I fled. +

+ +

+"For some days I haunted the spot where these scenes had taken place, +sometimes wishing to see you, sometimes resolved to quit the world and +its miseries forever. At length I wandered towards these mountains, +and have ranged through their immense recesses, consumed by a burning +passion which you alone can gratify. We may not part until you have +promised to comply with my requisition. I am alone and miserable; man +will not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself +would not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species +and have the same defects. This being you must create." +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 17 +

+ +

+The being finished speaking and fixed his looks upon me in the +expectation of a reply. But I was bewildered, perplexed, and unable to +arrange my ideas sufficiently to understand the full extent of his +proposition. He continued, +

+ +

+"You must create a female for me with whom I can live in the +interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. This you alone +can do, and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse to +concede." +

+ +

+The latter part of his tale had kindled anew in me the anger that had +died away while he narrated his peaceful life among the cottagers, and +as he said this I could no longer suppress the rage that burned within +me. +

+ +

+"I do refuse it," I replied; "and no torture shall ever extort a +consent from me. You may render me the most miserable of men, but you +shall never make me base in my own eyes. Shall I create another like +yourself, whose joint wickedness might desolate the world. Begone! I +have answered you; you may torture me, but I will never consent." +

+ +

+"You are in the wrong," replied the fiend; "and instead of threatening, +I am content to reason with you. I am malicious because I am +miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind? You, my +creator, would tear me to pieces and triumph; remember that, and tell +me why I should pity man more than he pities me? You would not call it +murder if you could precipitate me into one of those ice-rifts and +destroy my frame, the work of your own hands. Shall I respect man when +he condemns me? Let him live with me in the interchange of kindness, +and instead of injury I would bestow every benefit upon him with tears +of gratitude at his acceptance. But that cannot be; the human senses +are insurmountable barriers to our union. Yet mine shall not be the +submission of abject slavery. I will revenge my injuries; if I cannot +inspire love, I will cause fear, and chiefly towards you my arch-enemy, +because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred. Have a care; I +will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, +so that you shall curse the hour of your birth." +

+ +

+A fiendish rage animated him as he said this; his face was wrinkled +into contortions too horrible for human eyes to behold; but presently +he calmed himself and proceeded— +

+ +

+"I intended to reason. This passion is detrimental to me, for you do +not reflect that YOU are the cause of its excess. If any being felt +emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and +a hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with the +whole kind! But I now indulge in dreams of bliss that cannot be +realized. What I ask of you is reasonable and moderate; I demand a +creature of another sex, but as hideous as myself; the gratification is +small, but it is all that I can receive, and it shall content me. It +is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that +account we shall be more attached to one another. Our lives will not +be happy, but they will be harmless and free from the misery I now +feel. Oh! My creator, make me happy; let me feel gratitude towards +you for one benefit! Let me see that I excite the sympathy of some +existing thing; do not deny me my request!" +

+ +

+I was moved. I shuddered when I thought of the possible consequences +of my consent, but I felt that there was some justice in his argument. +His tale and the feelings he now expressed proved him to be a creature +of fine sensations, and did I not as his maker owe him all the portion +of happiness that it was in my power to bestow? He saw my change of +feeling and continued, +

+ +

+"If you consent, neither you nor any other human being shall ever see +us again; I will go to the vast wilds of South America. My food is not +that of man; I do not destroy the lamb and the kid to glut my appetite; +acorns and berries afford me sufficient nourishment. My companion will +be of the same nature as myself and will be content with the same fare. +We shall make our bed of dried leaves; the sun will shine on us as on +man and will ripen our food. The picture I present to you is peaceful +and human, and you must feel that you could deny it only in the +wantonness of power and cruelty. Pitiless as you have been towards me, +I now see compassion in your eyes; let me seize the favourable moment +and persuade you to promise what I so ardently desire." +

+ +

+"You propose," replied I, "to fly from the habitations of man, to dwell +in those wilds where the beasts of the field will be your only +companions. How can you, who long for the love and sympathy of man, +persevere in this exile? You will return and again seek their +kindness, and you will meet with their detestation; your evil passions +will be renewed, and you will then have a companion to aid you in the +task of destruction. This may not be; cease to argue the point, for I +cannot consent." +

+ +

+"How inconstant are your feelings! But a moment ago you were moved by +my representations, and why do you again harden yourself to my +complaints? I swear to you, by the earth which I inhabit, and by you +that made me, that with the companion you bestow I will quit the +neighbourhood of man and dwell, as it may chance, in the most savage of +places. My evil passions will have fled, for I shall meet with +sympathy! My life will flow quietly away, and in my dying moments I +shall not curse my maker." +

+ +

+His words had a strange effect upon me. I compassionated him and +sometimes felt a wish to console him, but when I looked upon him, when +I saw the filthy mass that moved and talked, my heart sickened and my +feelings were altered to those of horror and hatred. I tried to stifle +these sensations; I thought that as I could not sympathize with him, I +had no right to withhold from him the small portion of happiness which +was yet in my power to bestow. +

+ +

+"You swear," I said, "to be harmless; but have you not already shown a +degree of malice that should reasonably make me distrust you? May not +even this be a feint that will increase your triumph by affording a +wider scope for your revenge?" +

+ +

+"How is this? I must not be trifled with, and I demand an answer. If +I have no ties and no affections, hatred and vice must be my portion; +the love of another will destroy the cause of my crimes, and I shall +become a thing of whose existence everyone will be ignorant. My vices +are the children of a forced solitude that I abhor, and my virtues will +necessarily arise when I live in communion with an equal. I shall feel +the affections of a sensitive being and become linked to the chain of +existence and events from which I am now excluded." +

+ +

+I paused some time to reflect on all he had related and the various +arguments which he had employed. I thought of the promise of virtues +which he had displayed on the opening of his existence and the +subsequent blight of all kindly feeling by the loathing and scorn which +his protectors had manifested towards him. His power and threats were +not omitted in my calculations; a creature who could exist in the ice +caves of the glaciers and hide himself from pursuit among the ridges of +inaccessible precipices was a being possessing faculties it would be +vain to cope with. After a long pause of reflection I concluded that +the justice due both to him and my fellow creatures demanded of me that +I should comply with his request. Turning to him, therefore, I said, +

+ +

+"I consent to your demand, on your solemn oath to quit Europe forever, +and every other place in the neighbourhood of man, as soon as I shall +deliver into your hands a female who will accompany you in your exile." +

+ +

+"I swear," he cried, "by the sun, and by the blue sky of heaven, and by +the fire of love that burns my heart, that if you grant my prayer, +while they exist you shall never behold me again. Depart to your home +and commence your labours; I shall watch their progress with +unutterable anxiety; and fear not but that when you are ready I shall +appear." +

+ +

+Saying this, he suddenly quitted me, fearful, perhaps, of any change in +my sentiments. I saw him descend the mountain with greater speed than +the flight of an eagle, and quickly lost among the undulations of the +sea of ice. +

+ +

+His tale had occupied the whole day, and the sun was upon the verge of +the horizon when he departed. I knew that I ought to hasten my descent +towards the valley, as I should soon be encompassed in darkness; but my +heart was heavy, and my steps slow. The labour of winding among the +little paths of the mountain and fixing my feet firmly as I advanced +perplexed me, occupied as I was by the emotions which the occurrences +of the day had produced. Night was far advanced when I came to the +halfway resting-place and seated myself beside the fountain. The stars +shone at intervals as the clouds passed from over them; the dark pines +rose before me, and every here and there a broken tree lay on the +ground; it was a scene of wonderful solemnity and stirred strange +thoughts within me. I wept bitterly, and clasping my hands in agony, I +exclaimed, "Oh! Stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mock +me; if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as +nought; but if not, depart, depart, and leave me in darkness." +

+ +

+These were wild and miserable thoughts, but I cannot describe to you +how the eternal twinkling of the stars weighed upon me and how I +listened to every blast of wind as if it were a dull ugly siroc on its +way to consume me. +

+ +

+Morning dawned before I arrived at the village of Chamounix; I took no +rest, but returned immediately to Geneva. Even in my own heart I could +give no expression to my sensations—they weighed on me with a +mountain's weight and their excess destroyed my agony beneath them. +Thus I returned home, and entering the house, presented myself to the +family. My haggard and wild appearance awoke intense alarm, but I +answered no question, scarcely did I speak. I felt as if I were placed +under a ban—as if I had no right to claim their sympathies—as if +never more might I enjoy companionship with them. Yet even thus I +loved them to adoration; and to save them, I resolved to dedicate +myself to my most abhorred task. The prospect of such an occupation +made every other circumstance of existence pass before me like a dream, +and that thought only had to me the reality of life. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 18 +

+ +

+Day after day, week after week, passed away on my return to Geneva; and +I could not collect the courage to recommence my work. I feared the +vengeance of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome my +repugnance to the task which was enjoined me. I found that I could not +compose a female without again devoting several months to profound +study and laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries +having been made by an English philosopher, the knowledge of which was +material to my success, and I sometimes thought of obtaining my +father's consent to visit England for this purpose; but I clung to +every pretence of delay and shrank from taking the first step in an +undertaking whose immediate necessity began to appear less absolute to +me. A change indeed had taken place in me; my health, which had +hitherto declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, when +unchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose proportionably. My +father saw this change with pleasure, and he turned his thoughts +towards the best method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy, +which every now and then would return by fits, and with a devouring +blackness overcast the approaching sunshine. At these moments I took +refuge in the most perfect solitude. I passed whole days on the lake +alone in a little boat, watching the clouds and listening to the +rippling of the waves, silent and listless. But the fresh air and +bright sun seldom failed to restore me to some degree of composure, and +on my return I met the salutations of my friends with a readier smile +and a more cheerful heart. +

+ +

+It was after my return from one of these rambles that my father, +calling me aside, thus addressed me, +

+ +

+"I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you have resumed your former +pleasures and seem to be returning to yourself. And yet you are still +unhappy and still avoid our society. For some time I was lost in +conjecture as to the cause of this, but yesterday an idea struck me, +and if it is well founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on such a +point would be not only useless, but draw down treble misery on us all." +

+ +

+I trembled violently at his exordium, and my father continued—"I +confess, my son, that I have always looked forward to your marriage +with our dear Elizabeth as the tie of our domestic comfort and the stay +of my declining years. You were attached to each other from your +earliest infancy; you studied together, and appeared, in dispositions +and tastes, entirely suited to one another. But so blind is the +experience of man that what I conceived to be the best assistants to my +plan may have entirely destroyed it. You, perhaps, regard her as your +sister, without any wish that she might become your wife. Nay, you may +have met with another whom you may love; and considering yourself as +bound in honour to Elizabeth, this struggle may occasion the poignant +misery which you appear to feel." +

+ +

+"My dear father, reassure yourself. I love my cousin tenderly and +sincerely. I never saw any woman who excited, as Elizabeth does, my +warmest admiration and affection. My future hopes and prospects are +entirely bound up in the expectation of our union." +

+ +

+"The expression of your sentiments of this subject, my dear Victor, +gives me more pleasure than I have for some time experienced. If you +feel thus, we shall assuredly be happy, however present events may cast +a gloom over us. But it is this gloom which appears to have taken so +strong a hold of your mind that I wish to dissipate. Tell me, +therefore, whether you object to an immediate solemnization of the +marriage. We have been unfortunate, and recent events have drawn us +from that everyday tranquillity befitting my years and infirmities. You +are younger; yet I do not suppose, possessed as you are of a competent +fortune, that an early marriage would at all interfere with any future +plans of honour and utility that you may have formed. Do not suppose, +however, that I wish to dictate happiness to you or that a delay on +your part would cause me any serious uneasiness. Interpret my words +with candour and answer me, I conjure you, with confidence and +sincerity." +

+ +

+I listened to my father in silence and remained for some time incapable +of offering any reply. I revolved rapidly in my mind a multitude of +thoughts and endeavoured to arrive at some conclusion. Alas! To me +the idea of an immediate union with my Elizabeth was one of horror and +dismay. I was bound by a solemn promise which I had not yet fulfilled +and dared not break, or if I did, what manifold miseries might not +impend over me and my devoted family! Could I enter into a festival +with this deadly weight yet hanging round my neck and bowing me to the +ground? I must perform my engagement and let the monster depart with +his mate before I allowed myself to enjoy the delight of a union from +which I expected peace. +

+ +

+I remembered also the necessity imposed upon me of either journeying to +England or entering into a long correspondence with those philosophers +of that country whose knowledge and discoveries were of indispensable +use to me in my present undertaking. The latter method of obtaining +the desired intelligence was dilatory and unsatisfactory; besides, I +had an insurmountable aversion to the idea of engaging myself in my +loathsome task in my father's house while in habits of familiar +intercourse with those I loved. I knew that a thousand fearful +accidents might occur, the slightest of which would disclose a tale to +thrill all connected with me with horror. I was aware also that I +should often lose all self-command, all capacity of hiding the +harrowing sensations that would possess me during the progress of my +unearthly occupation. I must absent myself from all I loved while thus +employed. Once commenced, it would quickly be achieved, and I might be +restored to my family in peace and happiness. My promise fulfilled, +the monster would depart forever. Or (so my fond fancy imaged) some +accident might meanwhile occur to destroy him and put an end to my +slavery forever. +

+ +

+These feelings dictated my answer to my father. I expressed a wish to +visit England, but concealing the true reasons of this request, I +clothed my desires under a guise which excited no suspicion, while I +urged my desire with an earnestness that easily induced my father to +comply. After so long a period of an absorbing melancholy that +resembled madness in its intensity and effects, he was glad to find +that I was capable of taking pleasure in the idea of such a journey, +and he hoped that change of scene and varied amusement would, before my +return, have restored me entirely to myself. +

+ +

+The duration of my absence was left to my own choice; a few months, or +at most a year, was the period contemplated. One paternal kind +precaution he had taken to ensure my having a companion. Without +previously communicating with me, he had, in concert with Elizabeth, +arranged that Clerval should join me at Strasbourg. This interfered +with the solitude I coveted for the prosecution of my task; yet at the +commencement of my journey the presence of my friend could in no way be +an impediment, and truly I rejoiced that thus I should be saved many +hours of lonely, maddening reflection. Nay, Henry might stand between +me and the intrusion of my foe. If I were alone, would he not at times +force his abhorred presence on me to remind me of my task or to +contemplate its progress? +

+ +

+To England, therefore, I was bound, and it was understood that my union +with Elizabeth should take place immediately on my return. My father's +age rendered him extremely averse to delay. For myself, there was one +reward I promised myself from my detested toils—one consolation for my +unparalleled sufferings; it was the prospect of that day when, +enfranchised from my miserable slavery, I might claim Elizabeth and +forget the past in my union with her. +

+ +

+I now made arrangements for my journey, but one feeling haunted me +which filled me with fear and agitation. During my absence I should +leave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy and +unprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my +departure. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go, and +would he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful in +itself, but soothing inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends. +I was agonized with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of +this might happen. But through the whole period during which I was the +slave of my creature I allowed myself to be governed by the impulses of +the moment; and my present sensations strongly intimated that the fiend +would follow me and exempt my family from the danger of his +machinations. +

+ +

+It was in the latter end of September that I again quitted my native +country. My journey had been my own suggestion, and Elizabeth +therefore acquiesced, but she was filled with disquiet at the idea of +my suffering, away from her, the inroads of misery and grief. It had +been her care which provided me a companion in Clerval—and yet a man +is blind to a thousand minute circumstances which call forth a woman's +sedulous attention. She longed to bid me hasten my return; a thousand +conflicting emotions rendered her mute as she bade me a tearful, silent +farewell. +

+ +

+I threw myself into the carriage that was to convey me away, hardly +knowing whither I was going, and careless of what was passing around. +I remembered only, and it was with a bitter anguish that I reflected on +it, to order that my chemical instruments should be packed to go with +me. Filled with dreary imaginations, I passed through many beautiful +and majestic scenes, but my eyes were fixed and unobserving. I could +only think of the bourne of my travels and the work which was to occupy +me whilst they endured. +

+ +

+After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I traversed +many leagues, I arrived at Strasbourg, where I waited two days for +Clerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast between us! He +was alive to every new scene, joyful when he saw the beauties of the +setting sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise and recommence a new +day. He pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape and +the appearances of the sky. "This is what it is to live," he cried; +"how I enjoy existence! But you, my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are +you desponding and sorrowful!" In truth, I was occupied by gloomy +thoughts and neither saw the descent of the evening star nor the golden +sunrise reflected in the Rhine. And you, my friend, would be far more +amused with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery with an +eye of feeling and delight, than in listening to my reflections. I, a +miserable wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to +enjoyment. +

+ +

+We had agreed to descend the Rhine in a boat from Strasbourg to +Rotterdam, whence we might take shipping for London. During this +voyage we passed many willowy islands and saw several beautiful towns. +We stayed a day at Mannheim, and on the fifth from our departure from +Strasbourg, arrived at Mainz. The course of the Rhine below Mainz +becomes much more picturesque. The river descends rapidly and winds +between hills, not high, but steep, and of beautiful forms. We saw +many ruined castles standing on the edges of precipices, surrounded by +black woods, high and inaccessible. This part of the Rhine, indeed, +presents a singularly variegated landscape. In one spot you view +rugged hills, ruined castles overlooking tremendous precipices, with +the dark Rhine rushing beneath; and on the sudden turn of a promontory, +flourishing vineyards with green sloping banks and a meandering river +and populous towns occupy the scene. +

+ +

+We travelled at the time of the vintage and heard the song of the +labourers as we glided down the stream. Even I, depressed in mind, and +my spirits continually agitated by gloomy feelings, even I was pleased. +I lay at the bottom of the boat, and as I gazed on the cloudless blue +sky, I seemed to drink in a tranquillity to which I had long been a +stranger. And if these were my sensations, who can describe those of +Henry? He felt as if he had been transported to fairy-land and enjoyed +a happiness seldom tasted by man. "I have seen," he said, "the most +beautiful scenes of my own country; I have visited the lakes of Lucerne +and Uri, where the snowy mountains descend almost perpendicularly to +the water, casting black and impenetrable shades, which would cause a +gloomy and mournful appearance were it not for the most verdant islands +that believe the eye by their gay appearance; I have seen this lake +agitated by a tempest, when the wind tore up whirlwinds of water and +gave you an idea of what the water-spout must be on the great ocean; +and the waves dash with fury the base of the mountain, where the priest +and his mistress were overwhelmed by an avalanche and where their dying +voices are still said to be heard amid the pauses of the nightly wind; +I have seen the mountains of La Valais, and the Pays de Vaud; but this +country, Victor, pleases me more than all those wonders. The mountains +of Switzerland are more majestic and strange, but there is a charm in +the banks of this divine river that I never before saw equalled. Look +at that castle which overhangs yon precipice; and that also on the +island, almost concealed amongst the foliage of those lovely trees; and +now that group of labourers coming from among their vines; and that +village half hid in the recess of the mountain. Oh, surely the spirit +that inhabits and guards this place has a soul more in harmony with man +than those who pile the glacier or retire to the inaccessible peaks of +the mountains of our own country." Clerval! Beloved friend! Even now +it delights me to record your words and to dwell on the praise of which +you are so eminently deserving. He was a being formed in the "very +poetry of nature." His wild and enthusiastic imagination was chastened +by the sensibility of his heart. His soul overflowed with ardent +affections, and his friendship was of that devoted and wondrous nature +that the world-minded teach us to look for only in the imagination. But +even human sympathies were not sufficient to satisfy his eager mind. +The scenery of external nature, which others regard only with +admiration, he loved with ardour:— +

+ +
+ +

+ ——The sounding cataract
+ Haunted him like a passion: the tall rock,
+ The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
+ Their colours and their forms, were then to him
+ An appetite; a feeling, and a love,
+ That had no need of a remoter charm,
+ By thought supplied, or any interest
+ Unborrow'd from the eye.
+
+ [Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey".]
+

+ +
+ +

+And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost +forever? Has this mind, so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful +and magnificent, which formed a world, whose existence depended on the +life of its creator;—has this mind perished? Does it now only exist +in my memory? No, it is not thus; your form so divinely wrought, and +beaming with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and +consoles your unhappy friend. +

+ +

+Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight +tribute to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart, +overflowing with the anguish which his remembrance creates. I will +proceed with my tale. +

+ +

+Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved +to post the remainder of our way, for the wind was contrary and the +stream of the river was too gentle to aid us. Our journey here lost +the interest arising from beautiful scenery, but we arrived in a few +days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to England. It was on a +clear morning, in the latter days of December, that I first saw the +white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames presented a new +scene; they were flat but fertile, and almost every town was marked by +the remembrance of some story. We saw Tilbury Fort and remembered the +Spanish Armada, Gravesend, Woolwich, and Greenwich—places which I had +heard of even in my country. +

+ +

+At length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul's towering +above all, and the Tower famed in English history. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 19 +

+ +

+London was our present point of rest; we determined to remain several +months in this wonderful and celebrated city. Clerval desired the +intercourse of the men of genius and talent who flourished at this +time, but this was with me a secondary object; I was principally +occupied with the means of obtaining the information necessary for the +completion of my promise and quickly availed myself of the letters of +introduction that I had brought with me, addressed to the most +distinguished natural philosophers. +

+ +

+If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness, +it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight had +come over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of +the information they might give me on the subject in which my interest +was so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me; when alone, I +could fill my mind with the sights of heaven and earth; the voice of +Henry soothed me, and I could thus cheat myself into a transitory +peace. But busy, uninteresting, joyous faces brought back despair to +my heart. I saw an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my +fellow men; this barrier was sealed with the blood of William and +Justine, and to reflect on the events connected with those names filled +my soul with anguish. +

+ +

+But in Clerval I saw the image of my former self; he was inquisitive +and anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference of +manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of +instruction and amusement. He was also pursuing an object he had long +had in view. His design was to visit India, in the belief that he had +in his knowledge of its various languages, and in the views he had +taken of its society, the means of materially assisting the progress of +European colonization and trade. In Britain only could he further the +execution of his plan. He was forever busy, and the only check to his +enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mind. I tried to conceal this +as much as possible, that I might not debar him from the pleasures +natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life, undisturbed by +any care or bitter recollection. I often refused to accompany him, +alleging another engagement, that I might remain alone. I now also +began to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this +was to me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling +on the head. Every thought that was devoted to it was an extreme +anguish, and every word that I spoke in allusion to it caused my lips +to quiver, and my heart to palpitate. +

+ +

+After passing some months in London, we received a letter from a person +in Scotland who had formerly been our visitor at Geneva. He mentioned +the beauties of his native country and asked us if those were not +sufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north +as Perth, where he resided. Clerval eagerly desired to accept this +invitation, and I, although I abhorred society, wished to view again +mountains and streams and all the wondrous works with which Nature +adorns her chosen dwelling-places. We had arrived in England at the +beginning of October, and it was now February. We accordingly +determined to commence our journey towards the north at the expiration +of another month. In this expedition we did not intend to follow the +great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor, Oxford, Matlock, and the +Cumberland lakes, resolving to arrive at the completion of this tour +about the end of July. I packed up my chemical instruments and the +materials I had collected, resolving to finish my labours in some +obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland. +

+ +

+We quitted London on the 27th of March and remained a few days at +Windsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us +mountaineers; the majestic oaks, the quantity of game, and the herds of +stately deer were all novelties to us. +

+ +

+From thence we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered this city our minds +were filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted +there more than a century and a half before. It was here that Charles +I. had collected his forces. This city had remained faithful to him, +after the whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard of +Parliament and liberty. The memory of that unfortunate king and his +companions, the amiable Falkland, the insolent Goring, his queen, and +son, gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city which they +might be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found a +dwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If these +feelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of +the city had yet in itself sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration. +The colleges are ancient and picturesque; the streets are almost +magnificent; and the lovely Isis, which flows beside it through meadows +of exquisite verdure, is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters, +which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, and spires, and +domes, embosomed among aged trees. +

+ +

+I enjoyed this scene, and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by the +memory of the past and the anticipation of the future. I was formed +for peaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent never +visited my mind, and if I was ever overcome by ennui, the sight of what +is beautiful in nature or the study of what is excellent and sublime in +the productions of man could always interest my heart and communicate +elasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has +entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what +I shall soon cease to be—a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, +pitiable to others and intolerable to myself. +

+ +

+We passed a considerable period at Oxford, rambling among its environs +and endeavouring to identify every spot which might relate to the most +animating epoch of English history. Our little voyages of discovery +were often prolonged by the successive objects that presented +themselves. We visited the tomb of the illustrious Hampden and the +field on which that patriot fell. For a moment my soul was elevated +from its debasing and miserable fears to contemplate the divine ideas +of liberty and self sacrifice of which these sights were the monuments +and the remembrancers. For an instant I dared to shake off my chains +and look around me with a free and lofty spirit, but the iron had eaten +into my flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my +miserable self. +

+ +

+We left Oxford with regret and proceeded to Matlock, which was our next +place of rest. The country in the neighbourhood of this village +resembled, to a greater degree, the scenery of Switzerland; but +everything is on a lower scale, and the green hills want the crown of +distant white Alps which always attend on the piny mountains of my +native country. We visited the wondrous cave and the little cabinets +of natural history, where the curiosities are disposed in the same +manner as in the collections at Servox and Chamounix. The latter name +made me tremble when pronounced by Henry, and I hastened to quit +Matlock, with which that terrible scene was thus associated. +

+ +

+From Derby, still journeying northwards, we passed two months in +Cumberland and Westmorland. I could now almost fancy myself among the +Swiss mountains. The little patches of snow which yet lingered on the +northern sides of the mountains, the lakes, and the dashing of the +rocky streams were all familiar and dear sights to me. Here also we +made some acquaintances, who almost contrived to cheat me into +happiness. The delight of Clerval was proportionably greater than +mine; his mind expanded in the company of men of talent, and he found +in his own nature greater capacities and resources than he could have +imagined himself to have possessed while he associated with his +inferiors. "I could pass my life here," said he to me; "and among +these mountains I should scarcely regret Switzerland and the Rhine." +

+ +

+But he found that a traveller's life is one that includes much pain +amidst its enjoyments. His feelings are forever on the stretch; and +when he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quit +that on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again +engages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties. +

+ +

+We had scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and Westmorland +and conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants when the period +of our appointment with our Scotch friend approached, and we left them +to travel on. For my own part I was not sorry. I had now neglected my +promise for some time, and I feared the effects of the daemon's +disappointment. He might remain in Switzerland and wreak his vengeance +on my relatives. This idea pursued me and tormented me at every moment +from which I might otherwise have snatched repose and peace. I waited +for my letters with feverish impatience; if they were delayed I was +miserable and overcome by a thousand fears; and when they arrived and I +saw the superscription of Elizabeth or my father, I hardly dared to +read and ascertain my fate. Sometimes I thought that the fiend +followed me and might expedite my remissness by murdering my companion. +When these thoughts possessed me, I would not quit Henry for a moment, +but followed him as his shadow, to protect him from the fancied rage of +his destroyer. I felt as if I had committed some great crime, the +consciousness of which haunted me. I was guiltless, but I had indeed +drawn down a horrible curse upon my head, as mortal as that of crime. +

+ +

+I visited Edinburgh with languid eyes and mind; and yet that city might +have interested the most unfortunate being. Clerval did not like it so +well as Oxford, for the antiquity of the latter city was more pleasing +to him. But the beauty and regularity of the new town of Edinburgh, +its romantic castle and its environs, the most delightful in the world, +Arthur's Seat, St. Bernard's Well, and the Pentland Hills compensated +him for the change and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. But +I was impatient to arrive at the termination of my journey. +

+ +

+We left Edinburgh in a week, passing through Coupar, St. Andrew's, and +along the banks of the Tay, to Perth, where our friend expected us. +But I was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers or enter into +their feelings or plans with the good humour expected from a guest; and +accordingly I told Clerval that I wished to make the tour of Scotland +alone. "Do you," said I, "enjoy yourself, and let this be our +rendezvous. I may be absent a month or two; but do not interfere with +my motions, I entreat you; leave me to peace and solitude for a short +time; and when I return, I hope it will be with a lighter heart, more +congenial to your own temper." +

+ +

+Henry wished to dissuade me, but seeing me bent on this plan, ceased to +remonstrate. He entreated me to write often. "I had rather be with +you," he said, "in your solitary rambles, than with these Scotch +people, whom I do not know; hasten, then, my dear friend, to return, +that I may again feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in +your absence." +

+ +

+Having parted from my friend, I determined to visit some remote spot of +Scotland and finish my work in solitude. I did not doubt but that the +monster followed me and would discover himself to me when I should have +finished, that he might receive his companion. With this resolution I +traversed the northern highlands and fixed on one of the remotest of +the Orkneys as the scene of my labours. It was a place fitted for such +a work, being hardly more than a rock whose high sides were continually +beaten upon by the waves. The soil was barren, scarcely affording +pasture for a few miserable cows, and oatmeal for its inhabitants, +which consisted of five persons, whose gaunt and scraggy limbs gave +tokens of their miserable fare. Vegetables and bread, when they +indulged in such luxuries, and even fresh water, was to be procured +from the mainland, which was about five miles distant. +

+ +

+On the whole island there were but three miserable huts, and one of +these was vacant when I arrived. This I hired. It contained but two +rooms, and these exhibited all the squalidness of the most miserable +penury. The thatch had fallen in, the walls were unplastered, and the +door was off its hinges. I ordered it to be repaired, bought some +furniture, and took possession, an incident which would doubtless have +occasioned some surprise had not all the senses of the cottagers been +benumbed by want and squalid poverty. As it was, I lived ungazed at +and unmolested, hardly thanked for the pittance of food and clothes +which I gave, so much does suffering blunt even the coarsest sensations +of men. +

+ +

+In this retreat I devoted the morning to labour; but in the evening, +when the weather permitted, I walked on the stony beach of the sea to +listen to the waves as they roared and dashed at my feet. It was a +monotonous yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland; it was +far different from this desolate and appalling landscape. Its hills +are covered with vines, and its cottages are scattered thickly in the +plains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky, and when +troubled by the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a lively +infant when compared to the roarings of the giant ocean. +

+ +

+In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived, but +as I proceeded in my labour, it became every day more horrible and +irksome to me. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my +laboratory for several days, and at other times I toiled day and night +in order to complete my work. It was, indeed, a filthy process in +which I was engaged. During my first experiment, a kind of +enthusiastic frenzy had blinded me to the horror of my employment; my +mind was intently fixed on the consummation of my labour, and my eyes +were shut to the horror of my proceedings. But now I went to it in +cold blood, and my heart often sickened at the work of my hands. +

+ +

+Thus situated, employed in the most detestable occupation, immersed in +a solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from +the actual scene in which I was engaged, my spirits became unequal; I +grew restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my +persecutor. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing +to raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so much +dreaded to behold. I feared to wander from the sight of my fellow +creatures lest when alone he should come to claim his companion. +

+ +

+In the mean time I worked on, and my labour was already considerably +advanced. I looked towards its completion with a tremulous and eager +hope, which I dared not trust myself to question but which was +intermixed with obscure forebodings of evil that made my heart sicken +in my bosom. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 20 +

+ +

+I sat one evening in my laboratory; the sun had set, and the moon was +just rising from the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment, +and I remained idle, in a pause of consideration of whether I should +leave my labour for the night or hasten its conclusion by an +unremitting attention to it. As I sat, a train of reflection occurred +to me which led me to consider the effects of what I was now doing. +Three years before, I was engaged in the same manner and had created a +fiend whose unparalleled barbarity had desolated my heart and filled it +forever with the bitterest remorse. I was now about to form another +being of whose dispositions I was alike ignorant; she might become ten +thousand times more malignant than her mate and delight, for its own +sake, in murder and wretchedness. He had sworn to quit the +neighbourhood of man and hide himself in deserts, but she had not; and +she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning +animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation. +They might even hate each other; the creature who already lived loathed +his own deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorrence for +it when it came before his eyes in the female form? She also might +turn with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she might +quit him, and he be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocation +of being deserted by one of his own species. Even if they were to +leave Europe and inhabit the deserts of the new world, yet one of the +first results of those sympathies for which the daemon thirsted would +be children, and a race of devils would be propagated upon the earth +who might make the very existence of the species of man a condition +precarious and full of terror. Had I right, for my own benefit, to +inflict this curse upon everlasting generations? I had before been +moved by the sophisms of the being I had created; I had been struck +senseless by his fiendish threats; but now, for the first time, the +wickedness of my promise burst upon me; I shuddered to think that +future ages might curse me as their pest, whose selfishness had not +hesitated to buy its own peace at the price, perhaps, of the existence +of the whole human race. +

+ +

+I trembled and my heart failed within me, when, on looking up, I saw by +the light of the moon the daemon at the casement. A ghastly grin +wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling the task +which he had allotted to me. Yes, he had followed me in my travels; he +had loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wide +and desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress and claim the +fulfilment of my promise. +

+ +

+As I looked on him, his countenance expressed the utmost extent of +malice and treachery. I thought with a sensation of madness on my +promise of creating another like to him, and trembling with passion, +tore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged. The wretch saw me +destroy the creature on whose future existence he depended for +happiness, and with a howl of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew. +

+ +

+I left the room, and locking the door, made a solemn vow in my own +heart never to resume my labours; and then, with trembling steps, I +sought my own apartment. I was alone; none were near me to dissipate +the gloom and relieve me from the sickening oppression of the most +terrible reveries. +

+ +

+Several hours passed, and I remained near my window gazing on the sea; +it was almost motionless, for the winds were hushed, and all nature +reposed under the eye of the quiet moon. A few fishing vessels alone +specked the water, and now and then the gentle breeze wafted the sound +of voices as the fishermen called to one another. I felt the silence, +although I was hardly conscious of its extreme profundity, until my ear +was suddenly arrested by the paddling of oars near the shore, and a +person landed close to my house. +

+ +

+In a few minutes after, I heard the creaking of my door, as if some one +endeavoured to open it softly. I trembled from head to foot; I felt a +presentiment of who it was and wished to rouse one of the peasants who +dwelt in a cottage not far from mine; but I was overcome by the +sensation of helplessness, so often felt in frightful dreams, when you +in vain endeavour to fly from an impending danger, and was rooted to +the spot. Presently I heard the sound of footsteps along the passage; +the door opened, and the wretch whom I dreaded appeared. +

+ +

+Shutting the door, he approached me and said in a smothered voice, "You +have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you intend? +Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and misery; I +left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the Rhine, among +its willow islands and over the summits of its hills. I have dwelt +many months in the heaths of England and among the deserts of Scotland. +I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you dare +destroy my hopes?" +

+ +

+"Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like +yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness." +

+ +

+"Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself +unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe +yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of +day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master; +obey!" +

+ +

+"The hour of my irresolution is past, and the period of your power is +arrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but +they confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion in +vice. Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a daemon whose +delight is in death and wretchedness? Begone! I am firm, and your +words will only exasperate my rage." +

+ +

+The monster saw my determination in my face and gnashed his teeth in +the impotence of anger. "Shall each man," cried he, "find a wife for +his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had +feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. +Man! You may hate, but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and +misery, and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your +happiness forever. Are you to be happy while I grovel in the intensity +of my wretchedness? You can blast my other passions, but revenge +remains—revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die, but +first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on +your misery. Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will +watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. +Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict." +

+ +

+"Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. +I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend +beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable." +

+ +

+"It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your +wedding-night." +

+ +

+I started forward and exclaimed, "Villain! Before you sign my +death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe." +

+ +

+I would have seized him, but he eluded me and quitted the house with +precipitation. In a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot +across the waters with an arrowy swiftness and was soon lost amidst the +waves. +

+ +

+All was again silent, but his words rang in my ears. I burned with +rage to pursue the murderer of my peace and precipitate him into the +ocean. I walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my +imagination conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Why +had I not followed him and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had +suffered him to depart, and he had directed his course towards the +mainland. I shuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificed +to his insatiate revenge. And then I thought again of his words—"I +WILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT." That, then, was the period +fixed for the fulfilment of my destiny. In that hour I should die and +at once satisfy and extinguish his malice. The prospect did not move +me to fear; yet when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth, of her tears +and endless sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously +snatched from her, tears, the first I had shed for many months, +streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemy +without a bitter struggle. +

+ +

+The night passed away, and the sun rose from the ocean; my feelings +became calmer, if it may be called calmness when the violence of rage +sinks into the depths of despair. I left the house, the horrid scene +of the last night's contention, and walked on the beach of the sea, +which I almost regarded as an insuperable barrier between me and my +fellow creatures; nay, a wish that such should prove the fact stole +across me. +

+ +

+I desired that I might pass my life on that barren rock, wearily, it is +true, but uninterrupted by any sudden shock of misery. If I returned, +it was to be sacrificed or to see those whom I most loved die under the +grasp of a daemon whom I had myself created. +

+ +

+I walked about the isle like a restless spectre, separated from all it +loved and miserable in the separation. When it became noon, and the +sun rose higher, I lay down on the grass and was overpowered by a deep +sleep. I had been awake the whole of the preceding night, my nerves +were agitated, and my eyes inflamed by watching and misery. The sleep +into which I now sank refreshed me; and when I awoke, I again felt as +if I belonged to a race of human beings like myself, and I began to +reflect upon what had passed with greater composure; yet still the +words of the fiend rang in my ears like a death-knell; they appeared +like a dream, yet distinct and oppressive as a reality. +

+ +

+The sun had far descended, and I still sat on the shore, satisfying my +appetite, which had become ravenous, with an oaten cake, when I saw a +fishing-boat land close to me, and one of the men brought me a packet; +it contained letters from Geneva, and one from Clerval entreating me to +join him. He said that he was wearing away his time fruitlessly where +he was, that letters from the friends he had formed in London desired +his return to complete the negotiation they had entered into for his +Indian enterprise. He could not any longer delay his departure; but as +his journey to London might be followed, even sooner than he now +conjectured, by his longer voyage, he entreated me to bestow as much of +my society on him as I could spare. He besought me, therefore, to +leave my solitary isle and to meet him at Perth, that we might proceed +southwards together. This letter in a degree recalled me to life, and +I determined to quit my island at the expiration of two days. Yet, +before I departed, there was a task to perform, on which I shuddered to +reflect; I must pack up my chemical instruments, and for that purpose I +must enter the room which had been the scene of my odious work, and I +must handle those utensils the sight of which was sickening to me. The +next morning, at daybreak, I summoned sufficient courage and unlocked +the door of my laboratory. The remains of the half-finished creature, +whom I had destroyed, lay scattered on the floor, and I almost felt as +if I had mangled the living flesh of a human being. I paused to +collect myself and then entered the chamber. With trembling hand I +conveyed the instruments out of the room, but I reflected that I ought +not to leave the relics of my work to excite the horror and suspicion +of the peasants; and I accordingly put them into a basket, with a great +quantity of stones, and laying them up, determined to throw them into +the sea that very night; and in the meantime I sat upon the beach, +employed in cleaning and arranging my chemical apparatus. +

+ +

+Nothing could be more complete than the alteration that had taken place +in my feelings since the night of the appearance of the daemon. I had +before regarded my promise with a gloomy despair as a thing that, with +whatever consequences, must be fulfilled; but I now felt as if a film +had been taken from before my eyes and that I for the first time saw +clearly. The idea of renewing my labours did not for one instant occur +to me; the threat I had heard weighed on my thoughts, but I did not +reflect that a voluntary act of mine could avert it. I had resolved in +my own mind that to create another like the fiend I had first made +would be an act of the basest and most atrocious selfishness, and I +banished from my mind every thought that could lead to a different +conclusion. +

+ +

+Between two and three in the morning the moon rose; and I then, putting +my basket aboard a little skiff, sailed out about four miles from the +shore. The scene was perfectly solitary; a few boats were returning +towards land, but I sailed away from them. I felt as if I was about +the commission of a dreadful crime and avoided with shuddering anxiety +any encounter with my fellow creatures. At one time the moon, which +had before been clear, was suddenly overspread by a thick cloud, and I +took advantage of the moment of darkness and cast my basket into the +sea; I listened to the gurgling sound as it sank and then sailed away +from the spot. The sky became clouded, but the air was pure, although +chilled by the northeast breeze that was then rising. But it refreshed +me and filled me with such agreeable sensations that I resolved to +prolong my stay on the water, and fixing the rudder in a direct +position, stretched myself at the bottom of the boat. Clouds hid the +moon, everything was obscure, and I heard only the sound of the boat as +its keel cut through the waves; the murmur lulled me, and in a short +time I slept soundly. I do not know how long I remained in this +situation, but when I awoke I found that the sun had already mounted +considerably. The wind was high, and the waves continually threatened +the safety of my little skiff. I found that the wind was northeast and +must have driven me far from the coast from which I had embarked. I +endeavoured to change my course but quickly found that if I again made +the attempt the boat would be instantly filled with water. Thus +situated, my only resource was to drive before the wind. I confess +that I felt a few sensations of terror. I had no compass with me and +was so slenderly acquainted with the geography of this part of the +world that the sun was of little benefit to me. I might be driven into +the wide Atlantic and feel all the tortures of starvation or be +swallowed up in the immeasurable waters that roared and buffeted around +me. I had already been out many hours and felt the torment of a +burning thirst, a prelude to my other sufferings. I looked on the +heavens, which were covered by clouds that flew before the wind, only +to be replaced by others; I looked upon the sea; it was to be my grave. +"Fiend," I exclaimed, "your task is already fulfilled!" I thought of +Elizabeth, of my father, and of Clerval—all left behind, on whom the +monster might satisfy his sanguinary and merciless passions. This idea +plunged me into a reverie so despairing and frightful that even now, +when the scene is on the point of closing before me forever, I shudder +to reflect on it. +

+ +

+Some hours passed thus; but by degrees, as the sun declined towards the +horizon, the wind died away into a gentle breeze and the sea became +free from breakers. But these gave place to a heavy swell; I felt sick +and hardly able to hold the rudder, when suddenly I saw a line of high +land towards the south. +

+ +

+Almost spent, as I was, by fatigue and the dreadful suspense I endured +for several hours, this sudden certainty of life rushed like a flood of +warm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes. +

+ +

+How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we +have of life even in the excess of misery! I constructed another sail +with a part of my dress and eagerly steered my course towards the land. +It had a wild and rocky appearance, but as I approached nearer I easily +perceived the traces of cultivation. I saw vessels near the shore and +found myself suddenly transported back to the neighbourhood of +civilized man. I carefully traced the windings of the land and hailed +a steeple which I at length saw issuing from behind a small promontory. +As I was in a state of extreme debility, I resolved to sail directly +towards the town, as a place where I could most easily procure +nourishment. Fortunately I had money with me. +

+ +

+As I turned the promontory I perceived a small neat town and a good +harbour, which I entered, my heart bounding with joy at my unexpected +escape. +

+ +

+As I was occupied in fixing the boat and arranging the sails, several +people crowded towards the spot. They seemed much surprised at my +appearance, but instead of offering me any assistance, whispered +together with gestures that at any other time might have produced in me +a slight sensation of alarm. As it was, I merely remarked that they +spoke English, and I therefore addressed them in that language. "My +good friends," said I, "will you be so kind as to tell me the name of +this town and inform me where I am?" +

+ +

+"You will know that soon enough," replied a man with a hoarse voice. +"Maybe you are come to a place that will not prove much to your taste, +but you will not be consulted as to your quarters, I promise you." +

+ +

+I was exceedingly surprised on receiving so rude an answer from a +stranger, and I was also disconcerted on perceiving the frowning and +angry countenances of his companions. "Why do you answer me so +roughly?" I replied. "Surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to +receive strangers so inhospitably." +

+ +

+"I do not know," said the man, "what the custom of the English may be, +but it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains." While this strange +dialogue continued, I perceived the crowd rapidly increase. Their +faces expressed a mixture of curiosity and anger, which annoyed and in +some degree alarmed me. +

+ +

+I inquired the way to the inn, but no one replied. I then moved +forward, and a murmuring sound arose from the crowd as they followed +and surrounded me, when an ill-looking man approaching tapped me on the +shoulder and said, "Come, sir, you must follow me to Mr. Kirwin's to +give an account of yourself." +

+ +

+"Who is Mr. Kirwin? Why am I to give an account of myself? Is not +this a free country?" +

+ +

+"Ay, sir, free enough for honest folks. Mr. Kirwin is a magistrate, +and you are to give an account of the death of a gentleman who was +found murdered here last night." +

+ +

+This answer startled me, but I presently recovered myself. I was +innocent; that could easily be proved; accordingly I followed my +conductor in silence and was led to one of the best houses in the town. +I was ready to sink from fatigue and hunger, but being surrounded by a +crowd, I thought it politic to rouse all my strength, that no physical +debility might be construed into apprehension or conscious guilt. +Little did I then expect the calamity that was in a few moments to +overwhelm me and extinguish in horror and despair all fear of ignominy +or death. I must pause here, for it requires all my fortitude to recall +the memory of the frightful events which I am about to relate, in +proper detail, to my recollection. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 21 +

+ +

+I was soon introduced into the presence of the magistrate, an old +benevolent man with calm and mild manners. He looked upon me, however, +with some degree of severity, and then, turning towards my conductors, +he asked who appeared as witnesses on this occasion. +

+ +

+About half a dozen men came forward; and, one being selected by the +magistrate, he deposed that he had been out fishing the night before +with his son and brother-in-law, Daniel Nugent, when, about ten +o'clock, they observed a strong northerly blast rising, and they +accordingly put in for port. It was a very dark night, as the moon had +not yet risen; they did not land at the harbour, but, as they had been +accustomed, at a creek about two miles below. He walked on first, +carrying a part of the fishing tackle, and his companions followed him +at some distance. +

+ +

+As he was proceeding along the sands, he struck his foot against +something and fell at his length on the ground. His companions came up +to assist him, and by the light of their lantern they found that he had +fallen on the body of a man, who was to all appearance dead. Their +first supposition was that it was the corpse of some person who had +been drowned and was thrown on shore by the waves, but on examination +they found that the clothes were not wet and even that the body was not +then cold. They instantly carried it to the cottage of an old woman +near the spot and endeavoured, but in vain, to restore it to life. It +appeared to be a handsome young man, about five and twenty years of +age. He had apparently been strangled, for there was no sign of any +violence except the black mark of fingers on his neck. +

+ +

+The first part of this deposition did not in the least interest me, but +when the mark of the fingers was mentioned I remembered the murder of +my brother and felt myself extremely agitated; my limbs trembled, and a +mist came over my eyes, which obliged me to lean on a chair for +support. The magistrate observed me with a keen eye and of course drew +an unfavourable augury from my manner. +

+ +

+The son confirmed his father's account, but when Daniel Nugent was +called he swore positively that just before the fall of his companion, +he saw a boat, with a single man in it, at a short distance from the +shore; and as far as he could judge by the light of a few stars, it was +the same boat in which I had just landed. A woman deposed that she +lived near the beach and was standing at the door of her cottage, +waiting for the return of the fishermen, about an hour before she heard +of the discovery of the body, when she saw a boat with only one man in +it push off from that part of the shore where the corpse was afterwards +found. +

+ +

+Another woman confirmed the account of the fishermen having brought the +body into her house; it was not cold. They put it into a bed and +rubbed it, and Daniel went to the town for an apothecary, but life was +quite gone. +

+ +

+Several other men were examined concerning my landing, and they agreed +that, with the strong north wind that had arisen during the night, it +was very probable that I had beaten about for many hours and had been +obliged to return nearly to the same spot from which I had departed. +Besides, they observed that it appeared that I had brought the body +from another place, and it was likely that as I did not appear to know +the shore, I might have put into the harbour ignorant of the distance +of the town of —— from the place where I had deposited the corpse. +

+ +

+Mr. Kirwin, on hearing this evidence, desired that I should be taken +into the room where the body lay for interment, that it might be +observed what effect the sight of it would produce upon me. This idea +was probably suggested by the extreme agitation I had exhibited when +the mode of the murder had been described. I was accordingly +conducted, by the magistrate and several other persons, to the inn. I +could not help being struck by the strange coincidences that had taken +place during this eventful night; but, knowing that I had been +conversing with several persons in the island I had inhabited about the +time that the body had been found, I was perfectly tranquil as to the +consequences of the affair. I entered the room where the corpse lay +and was led up to the coffin. How can I describe my sensations on +beholding it? I feel yet parched with horror, nor can I reflect on +that terrible moment without shuddering and agony. The examination, +the presence of the magistrate and witnesses, passed like a dream from +my memory when I saw the lifeless form of Henry Clerval stretched +before me. I gasped for breath, and throwing myself on the body, I +exclaimed, "Have my murderous machinations deprived you also, my +dearest Henry, of life? Two I have already destroyed; other victims +await their destiny; but you, Clerval, my friend, my benefactor—" +

+ +

+The human frame could no longer support the agonies that I endured, and +I was carried out of the room in strong convulsions. A fever succeeded +to this. I lay for two months on the point of death; my ravings, as I +afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the murderer of +William, of Justine, and of Clerval. Sometimes I entreated my +attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was +tormented; and at others I felt the fingers of the monster already +grasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror. +Fortunately, as I spoke my native language, Mr. Kirwin alone understood +me; but my gestures and bitter cries were sufficient to affright the +other witnesses. Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever was +before, why did I not sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatches +away many blooming children, the only hopes of their doting parents; +how many brides and youthful lovers have been one day in the bloom of +health and hope, and the next a prey for worms and the decay of the +tomb! Of what materials was I made that I could thus resist so many +shocks, which, like the turning of the wheel, continually renewed the +torture? +

+ +

+But I was doomed to live and in two months found myself as awaking from +a dream, in a prison, stretched on a wretched bed, surrounded by +jailers, turnkeys, bolts, and all the miserable apparatus of a dungeon. +It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding; I had +forgotten the particulars of what had happened and only felt as if some +great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me; but when I looked around +and saw the barred windows and the squalidness of the room in which I +was, all flashed across my memory and I groaned bitterly. +

+ +

+This sound disturbed an old woman who was sleeping in a chair beside +me. She was a hired nurse, the wife of one of the turnkeys, and her +countenance expressed all those bad qualities which often characterize +that class. The lines of her face were hard and rude, like that of +persons accustomed to see without sympathizing in sights of misery. Her +tone expressed her entire indifference; she addressed me in English, +and the voice struck me as one that I had heard during my sufferings. +"Are you better now, sir?" said she. +

+ +

+I replied in the same language, with a feeble voice, "I believe I am; +but if it be all true, if indeed I did not dream, I am sorry that I am +still alive to feel this misery and horror." +

+ +

+"For that matter," replied the old woman, "if you mean about the +gentleman you murdered, I believe that it were better for you if you +were dead, for I fancy it will go hard with you! However, that's none +of my business; I am sent to nurse you and get you well; I do my duty +with a safe conscience; it were well if everybody did the same." +

+ +

+I turned with loathing from the woman who could utter so unfeeling a +speech to a person just saved, on the very edge of death; but I felt +languid and unable to reflect on all that had passed. The whole series +of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it +were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force +of reality. +

+ +

+As the images that floated before me became more distinct, I grew +feverish; a darkness pressed around me; no one was near me who soothed +me with the gentle voice of love; no dear hand supported me. The +physician came and prescribed medicines, and the old woman prepared +them for me; but utter carelessness was visible in the first, and the +expression of brutality was strongly marked in the visage of the +second. Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer but the +hangman who would gain his fee? +

+ +

+These were my first reflections, but I soon learned that Mr. Kirwin had +shown me extreme kindness. He had caused the best room in the prison +to be prepared for me (wretched indeed was the best); and it was he who +had provided a physician and a nurse. It is true, he seldom came to +see me, for although he ardently desired to relieve the sufferings of +every human creature, he did not wish to be present at the agonies and +miserable ravings of a murderer. He came, therefore, sometimes to see +that I was not neglected, but his visits were short and with long +intervals. One day, while I was gradually recovering, I was seated in +a chair, my eyes half open and my cheeks livid like those in death. I +was overcome by gloom and misery and often reflected I had better seek +death than desire to remain in a world which to me was replete with +wretchedness. At one time I considered whether I should not declare +myself guilty and suffer the penalty of the law, less innocent than +poor Justine had been. Such were my thoughts when the door of my +apartment was opened and Mr. Kirwin entered. His countenance expressed +sympathy and compassion; he drew a chair close to mine and addressed me +in French, "I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I do +anything to make you more comfortable?" +

+ +

+"I thank you, but all that you mention is nothing to me; on the whole +earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving." +

+ +

+"I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief to +one borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune. But you will, I +hope, soon quit this melancholy abode, for doubtless evidence can +easily be brought to free you from the criminal charge." +

+ +

+"That is my least concern; I am, by a course of strange events, become +the most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am and +have been, can death be any evil to me?" +

+ +

+"Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonizing than the +strange chances that have lately occurred. You were thrown, by some +surprising accident, on this shore, renowned for its hospitality, +seized immediately, and charged with murder. The first sight that was +presented to your eyes was the body of your friend, murdered in so +unaccountable a manner and placed, as it were, by some fiend across +your path." +

+ +

+As Mr. Kirwin said this, notwithstanding the agitation I endured on +this retrospect of my sufferings, I also felt considerable surprise at +the knowledge he seemed to possess concerning me. I suppose some +astonishment was exhibited in my countenance, for Mr. Kirwin hastened +to say, "Immediately upon your being taken ill, all the papers that +were on your person were brought me, and I examined them that I might +discover some trace by which I could send to your relations an account +of your misfortune and illness. I found several letters, and, among +others, one which I discovered from its commencement to be from your +father. I instantly wrote to Geneva; nearly two months have elapsed +since the departure of my letter. But you are ill; even now you +tremble; you are unfit for agitation of any kind." +

+ +

+"This suspense is a thousand times worse than the most horrible event; +tell me what new scene of death has been acted, and whose murder I am +now to lament?" +

+ +

+"Your family is perfectly well," said Mr. Kirwin with gentleness; "and +someone, a friend, is come to visit you." +

+ +

+I know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but it +instantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my +misery and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement for +me to comply with his hellish desires. I put my hand before my eyes, +and cried out in agony, "Oh! Take him away! I cannot see him; for +God's sake, do not let him enter!" +

+ +

+Mr. Kirwin regarded me with a troubled countenance. He could not help +regarding my exclamation as a presumption of my guilt and said in +rather a severe tone, "I should have thought, young man, that the +presence of your father would have been welcome instead of inspiring +such violent repugnance." +

+ +

+"My father!" cried I, while every feature and every muscle was relaxed +from anguish to pleasure. "Is my father indeed come? How kind, how +very kind! But where is he, why does he not hasten to me?" +

+ +

+My change of manner surprised and pleased the magistrate; perhaps he +thought that my former exclamation was a momentary return of delirium, +and now he instantly resumed his former benevolence. He rose and +quitted the room with my nurse, and in a moment my father entered it. +

+ +

+Nothing, at this moment, could have given me greater pleasure than the +arrival of my father. I stretched out my hand to him and cried, "Are +you, then, safe—and Elizabeth—and Ernest?" My father calmed me with +assurances of their welfare and endeavoured, by dwelling on these +subjects so interesting to my heart, to raise my desponding spirits; +but he soon felt that a prison cannot be the abode of cheerfulness. +

+ +

+"What a place is this that you inhabit, my son!" said he, looking +mournfully at the barred windows and wretched appearance of the room. +"You travelled to seek happiness, but a fatality seems to pursue you. +And poor Clerval—" +

+ +

+The name of my unfortunate and murdered friend was an agitation too +great to be endured in my weak state; I shed tears. "Alas! Yes, my +father," replied I; "some destiny of the most horrible kind hangs over +me, and I must live to fulfil it, or surely I should have died on the +coffin of Henry." +

+ +

+We were not allowed to converse for any length of time, for the +precarious state of my health rendered every precaution necessary that +could ensure tranquillity. Mr. Kirwin came in and insisted that my +strength should not be exhausted by too much exertion. But the +appearance of my father was to me like that of my good angel, and I +gradually recovered my health. +

+ +

+As my sickness quitted me, I was absorbed by a gloomy and black +melancholy that nothing could dissipate. The image of Clerval was +forever before me, ghastly and murdered. More than once the agitation +into which these reflections threw me made my friends dread a dangerous +relapse. Alas! Why did they preserve so miserable and detested a +life? It was surely that I might fulfil my destiny, which is now +drawing to a close. Soon, oh, very soon, will death extinguish these +throbbings and relieve me from the mighty weight of anguish that bears +me to the dust; and, in executing the award of justice, I shall also +sink to rest. Then the appearance of death was distant, although the +wish was ever present to my thoughts; and I often sat for hours +motionless and speechless, wishing for some mighty revolution that +might bury me and my destroyer in its ruins. +

+ +

+The season of the assizes approached. I had already been three months +in prison, and although I was still weak and in continual danger of a +relapse, I was obliged to travel nearly a hundred miles to the country +town where the court was held. Mr. Kirwin charged himself with every +care of collecting witnesses and arranging my defence. I was spared +the disgrace of appearing publicly as a criminal, as the case was not +brought before the court that decides on life and death. The grand +jury rejected the bill, on its being proved that I was on the Orkney +Islands at the hour the body of my friend was found; and a fortnight +after my removal I was liberated from prison. +

+ +

+My father was enraptured on finding me freed from the vexations of a +criminal charge, that I was again allowed to breathe the fresh +atmosphere and permitted to return to my native country. I did not +participate in these feelings, for to me the walls of a dungeon or a +palace were alike hateful. The cup of life was poisoned forever, and +although the sun shone upon me, as upon the happy and gay of heart, I +saw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated by +no light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimes +they were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark +orbs nearly covered by the lids and the long black lashes that fringed +them; sometimes it was the watery, clouded eyes of the monster, as I +first saw them in my chamber at Ingolstadt. +

+ +

+My father tried to awaken in me the feelings of affection. He talked +of Geneva, which I should soon visit, of Elizabeth and Ernest; but +these words only drew deep groans from me. Sometimes, indeed, I felt a +wish for happiness and thought with melancholy delight of my beloved +cousin or longed, with a devouring maladie du pays, to see once more +the blue lake and rapid Rhone, that had been so dear to me in early +childhood; but my general state of feeling was a torpor in which a +prison was as welcome a residence as the divinest scene in nature; and +these fits were seldom interrupted but by paroxysms of anguish and +despair. At these moments I often endeavoured to put an end to the +existence I loathed, and it required unceasing attendance and vigilance +to restrain me from committing some dreadful act of violence. +

+ +

+Yet one duty remained to me, the recollection of which finally +triumphed over my selfish despair. It was necessary that I should +return without delay to Geneva, there to watch over the lives of those +I so fondly loved and to lie in wait for the murderer, that if any +chance led me to the place of his concealment, or if he dared again to +blast me by his presence, I might, with unfailing aim, put an end to +the existence of the monstrous image which I had endued with the +mockery of a soul still more monstrous. My father still desired to +delay our departure, fearful that I could not sustain the fatigues of a +journey, for I was a shattered wreck—the shadow of a human being. My +strength was gone. I was a mere skeleton, and fever night and day +preyed upon my wasted frame. Still, as I urged our leaving Ireland +with such inquietude and impatience, my father thought it best to +yield. We took our passage on board a vessel bound for Havre-de-Grace +and sailed with a fair wind from the Irish shores. It was midnight. I +lay on the deck looking at the stars and listening to the dashing of +the waves. I hailed the darkness that shut Ireland from my sight, and +my pulse beat with a feverish joy when I reflected that I should soon +see Geneva. The past appeared to me in the light of a frightful dream; +yet the vessel in which I was, the wind that blew me from the detested +shore of Ireland, and the sea which surrounded me told me too forcibly +that I was deceived by no vision and that Clerval, my friend and +dearest companion, had fallen a victim to me and the monster of my +creation. I repassed, in my memory, my whole life—my quiet happiness +while residing with my family in Geneva, the death of my mother, and my +departure for Ingolstadt. I remembered, shuddering, the mad enthusiasm +that hurried me on to the creation of my hideous enemy, and I called to +mind the night in which he first lived. I was unable to pursue the +train of thought; a thousand feelings pressed upon me, and I wept +bitterly. Ever since my recovery from the fever I had been in the +custom of taking every night a small quantity of laudanum, for it was +by means of this drug only that I was enabled to gain the rest +necessary for the preservation of life. Oppressed by the recollection +of my various misfortunes, I now swallowed double my usual quantity and +soon slept profoundly. But sleep did not afford me respite from +thought and misery; my dreams presented a thousand objects that scared +me. Towards morning I was possessed by a kind of nightmare; I felt the +fiend's grasp in my neck and could not free myself from it; groans and +cries rang in my ears. My father, who was watching over me, perceiving +my restlessness, awoke me; the dashing waves were around, the cloudy +sky above, the fiend was not here: a sense of security, a feeling that +a truce was established between the present hour and the irresistible, +disastrous future imparted to me a kind of calm forgetfulness, of which +the human mind is by its structure peculiarly susceptible. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 22 +

+ +

+The voyage came to an end. We landed, and proceeded to Paris. I soon +found that I had overtaxed my strength and that I must repose before I +could continue my journey. My father's care and attentions were +indefatigable, but he did not know the origin of my sufferings and +sought erroneous methods to remedy the incurable ill. He wished me to +seek amusement in society. I abhorred the face of man. Oh, not +abhorred! They were my brethren, my fellow beings, and I felt +attracted even to the most repulsive among them, as to creatures of an +angelic nature and celestial mechanism. But I felt that I had no right +to share their intercourse. I had unchained an enemy among them whose +joy it was to shed their blood and to revel in their groans. How they +would, each and all, abhor me and hunt me from the world did they know +my unhallowed acts and the crimes which had their source in me! +

+ +

+My father yielded at length to my desire to avoid society and strove by +various arguments to banish my despair. Sometimes he thought that I +felt deeply the degradation of being obliged to answer a charge of +murder, and he endeavoured to prove to me the futility of pride. +

+ +

+"Alas! My father," said I, "how little do you know me. Human beings, +their feelings and passions, would indeed be degraded if such a wretch +as I felt pride. Justine, poor unhappy Justine, was as innocent as I, +and she suffered the same charge; she died for it; and I am the cause +of this—I murdered her. William, Justine, and Henry—they all died by +my hands." +

+ +

+My father had often, during my imprisonment, heard me make the same +assertion; when I thus accused myself, he sometimes seemed to desire an +explanation, and at others he appeared to consider it as the offspring +of delirium, and that, during my illness, some idea of this kind had +presented itself to my imagination, the remembrance of which I +preserved in my convalescence. +

+ +

+I avoided explanation and maintained a continual silence concerning the +wretch I had created. I had a persuasion that I should be supposed +mad, and this in itself would forever have chained my tongue. But, +besides, I could not bring myself to disclose a secret which would fill +my hearer with consternation and make fear and unnatural horror the +inmates of his breast. I checked, therefore, my impatient thirst for +sympathy and was silent when I would have given the world to have +confided the fatal secret. Yet, still, words like those I have +recorded would burst uncontrollably from me. I could offer no +explanation of them, but their truth in part relieved the burden of my +mysterious woe. Upon this occasion my father said, with an expression +of unbounded wonder, "My dearest Victor, what infatuation is this? My +dear son, I entreat you never to make such an assertion again." +

+ +

+"I am not mad," I cried energetically; "the sun and the heavens, who +have viewed my operations, can bear witness of my truth. I am the +assassin of those most innocent victims; they died by my machinations. +A thousand times would I have shed my own blood, drop by drop, to have +saved their lives; but I could not, my father, indeed I could not +sacrifice the whole human race." +

+ +

+The conclusion of this speech convinced my father that my ideas were +deranged, and he instantly changed the subject of our conversation and +endeavoured to alter the course of my thoughts. He wished as much as +possible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place in +Ireland and never alluded to them or suffered me to speak of my +misfortunes. +

+ +

+As time passed away I became more calm; misery had her dwelling in my +heart, but I no longer talked in the same incoherent manner of my own +crimes; sufficient for me was the consciousness of them. By the utmost +self-violence I curbed the imperious voice of wretchedness, which +sometimes desired to declare itself to the whole world, and my manners +were calmer and more composed than they had ever been since my journey +to the sea of ice. A few days before we left Paris on our way to +Switzerland, I received the following letter from Elizabeth: +

+ +
+ +

+"My dear Friend, +

+ +

+"It gave me the greatest pleasure to receive a letter from my uncle +dated at Paris; you are no longer at a formidable distance, and I may +hope to see you in less than a fortnight. My poor cousin, how much you +must have suffered! I expect to see you looking even more ill than +when you quitted Geneva. This winter has been passed most miserably, +tortured as I have been by anxious suspense; yet I hope to see peace in +your countenance and to find that your heart is not totally void of +comfort and tranquillity. +

+ +

+"Yet I fear that the same feelings now exist that made you so miserable +a year ago, even perhaps augmented by time. I would not disturb you at +this period, when so many misfortunes weigh upon you, but a +conversation that I had with my uncle previous to his departure renders +some explanation necessary before we meet. Explanation! You may +possibly say, What can Elizabeth have to explain? If you really say +this, my questions are answered and all my doubts satisfied. But you +are distant from me, and it is possible that you may dread and yet be +pleased with this explanation; and in a probability of this being the +case, I dare not any longer postpone writing what, during your absence, +I have often wished to express to you but have never had the courage to +begin. +

+ +

+"You well know, Victor, that our union had been the favourite plan of +your parents ever since our infancy. We were told this when young, and +taught to look forward to it as an event that would certainly take +place. We were affectionate playfellows during childhood, and, I +believe, dear and valued friends to one another as we grew older. But +as brother and sister often entertain a lively affection towards each +other without desiring a more intimate union, may not such also be our +case? Tell me, dearest Victor. Answer me, I conjure you by our mutual +happiness, with simple truth—Do you not love another? +

+ +

+"You have travelled; you have spent several years of your life at +Ingolstadt; and I confess to you, my friend, that when I saw you last +autumn so unhappy, flying to solitude from the society of every +creature, I could not help supposing that you might regret our +connection and believe yourself bound in honour to fulfil the wishes of +your parents, although they opposed themselves to your inclinations. +But this is false reasoning. I confess to you, my friend, that I love +you and that in my airy dreams of futurity you have been my constant +friend and companion. But it is your happiness I desire as well as my +own when I declare to you that our marriage would render me eternally +miserable unless it were the dictate of your own free choice. Even now +I weep to think that, borne down as you are by the cruellest +misfortunes, you may stifle, by the word 'honour,' all hope of that +love and happiness which would alone restore you to yourself. I, who +have so disinterested an affection for you, may increase your miseries +tenfold by being an obstacle to your wishes. Ah! Victor, be assured +that your cousin and playmate has too sincere a love for you not to be +made miserable by this supposition. Be happy, my friend; and if you +obey me in this one request, remain satisfied that nothing on earth +will have the power to interrupt my tranquillity. +

+ +

+"Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer tomorrow, or the +next day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain. My uncle +will send me news of your health, and if I see but one smile on your +lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I +shall need no other happiness. +

+ +

+ "Elizabeth Lavenza
+
+ "Geneva, May 18th, 17—"
+

+ +
+ +

+This letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, the +threat of the fiend—"I WILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT!" Such +was my sentence, and on that night would the daemon employ every art to +destroy me and tear me from the glimpse of happiness which promised +partly to console my sufferings. On that night he had determined to +consummate his crimes by my death. Well, be it so; a deadly struggle +would then assuredly take place, in which if he were victorious I +should be at peace and his power over me be at an end. If he were +vanquished, I should be a free man. Alas! What freedom? Such as the +peasant enjoys when his family have been massacred before his eyes, his +cottage burnt, his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless, +penniless, and alone, but free. Such would be my liberty except that in +my Elizabeth I possessed a treasure, alas, balanced by those horrors of +remorse and guilt which would pursue me until death. +

+ +

+Sweet and beloved Elizabeth! I read and reread her letter, and some +softened feelings stole into my heart and dared to whisper paradisiacal +dreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the +angel's arm bared to drive me from all hope. Yet I would die to make +her happy. If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable; +yet, again, I considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate. My +destruction might indeed arrive a few months sooner, but if my torturer +should suspect that I postponed it, influenced by his menaces, he would +surely find other and perhaps more dreadful means of revenge. +

+ +

+He had vowed TO BE WITH ME ON MY WEDDING-NIGHT, yet he did not consider +that threat as binding him to peace in the meantime, for as if to show +me that he was not yet satiated with blood, he had murdered Clerval +immediately after the enunciation of his threats. I resolved, +therefore, that if my immediate union with my cousin would conduce +either to hers or my father's happiness, my adversary's designs against +my life should not retard it a single hour. +

+ +

+In this state of mind I wrote to Elizabeth. My letter was calm and +affectionate. "I fear, my beloved girl," I said, "little happiness +remains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is centred in +you. Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my life +and my endeavours for contentment. I have one secret, Elizabeth, a +dreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame with +horror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will only +wonder that I survive what I have endured. I will confide this tale of +misery and terror to you the day after our marriage shall take place, +for, my sweet cousin, there must be perfect confidence between us. But +until then, I conjure you, do not mention or allude to it. This I most +earnestly entreat, and I know you will comply." +

+ +

+In about a week after the arrival of Elizabeth's letter we returned to +Geneva. The sweet girl welcomed me with warm affection, yet tears were +in her eyes as she beheld my emaciated frame and feverish cheeks. I +saw a change in her also. She was thinner and had lost much of that +heavenly vivacity that had before charmed me; but her gentleness and +soft looks of compassion made her a more fit companion for one blasted +and miserable as I was. The tranquillity which I now enjoyed did not +endure. Memory brought madness with it, and when I thought of what had +passed, a real insanity possessed me; sometimes I was furious and burnt +with rage, sometimes low and despondent. I neither spoke nor looked at +anyone, but sat motionless, bewildered by the multitude of miseries +that overcame me. +

+ +

+Elizabeth alone had the power to draw me from these fits; her gentle +voice would soothe me when transported by passion and inspire me with +human feelings when sunk in torpor. She wept with me and for me. When +reason returned, she would remonstrate and endeavour to inspire me with +resignation. Ah! It is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but +for the guilty there is no peace. The agonies of remorse poison the +luxury there is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of +grief. Soon after my arrival my father spoke of my immediate marriage +with Elizabeth. I remained silent. +

+ +

+"Have you, then, some other attachment?" +

+ +

+"None on earth. I love Elizabeth and look forward to our union with +delight. Let the day therefore be fixed; and on it I will consecrate +myself, in life or death, to the happiness of my cousin." +

+ +

+"My dear Victor, do not speak thus. Heavy misfortunes have befallen +us, but let us only cling closer to what remains and transfer our love +for those whom we have lost to those who yet live. Our circle will be +small but bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune. +And when time shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects of +care will be born to replace those of whom we have been so cruelly +deprived." +

+ +

+Such were the lessons of my father. But to me the remembrance of the +threat returned; nor can you wonder that, omnipotent as the fiend had +yet been in his deeds of blood, I should almost regard him as +invincible, and that when he had pronounced the words "I SHALL BE WITH +YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT," I should regard the threatened fate as +unavoidable. But death was no evil to me if the loss of Elizabeth were +balanced with it, and I therefore, with a contented and even cheerful +countenance, agreed with my father that if my cousin would consent, the +ceremony should take place in ten days, and thus put, as I imagined, +the seal to my fate. +

+ +

+Great God! If for one instant I had thought what might be the hellish +intention of my fiendish adversary, I would rather have banished myself +forever from my native country and wandered a friendless outcast over +the earth than have consented to this miserable marriage. But, as if +possessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real +intentions; and when I thought that I had prepared only my own death, I +hastened that of a far dearer victim. +

+ +

+As the period fixed for our marriage drew nearer, whether from +cowardice or a prophetic feeling, I felt my heart sink within me. But +I concealed my feelings by an appearance of hilarity that brought +smiles and joy to the countenance of my father, but hardly deceived the +ever-watchful and nicer eye of Elizabeth. She looked forward to our +union with placid contentment, not unmingled with a little fear, which +past misfortunes had impressed, that what now appeared certain and +tangible happiness might soon dissipate into an airy dream and leave no +trace but deep and everlasting regret. Preparations were made for the +event, congratulatory visits were received, and all wore a smiling +appearance. I shut up, as well as I could, in my own heart the anxiety +that preyed there and entered with seeming earnestness into the plans +of my father, although they might only serve as the decorations of my +tragedy. Through my father's exertions a part of the inheritance of +Elizabeth had been restored to her by the Austrian government. A small +possession on the shores of Como belonged to her. It was agreed that, +immediately after our union, we should proceed to Villa Lavenza and +spend our first days of happiness beside the beautiful lake near which +it stood. +

+ +

+In the meantime I took every precaution to defend my person in case the +fiend should openly attack me. I carried pistols and a dagger +constantly about me and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice, and +by these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity. Indeed, as the +period approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to be +regarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped for +in my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty as the day fixed +for its solemnization drew nearer and I heard it continually spoken of +as an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent. +

+ +

+Elizabeth seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly to +calm her mind. But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and my +destiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her; +and perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret which I had +promised to reveal to her on the following day. My father was in the +meantime overjoyed and in the bustle of preparation only recognized in +the melancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride. +

+ +

+After the ceremony was performed a large party assembled at my +father's, but it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should commence our +journey by water, sleeping that night at Evian and continuing our +voyage on the following day. The day was fair, the wind favourable; +all smiled on our nuptial embarkation. +

+ +

+Those were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the +feeling of happiness. We passed rapidly along; the sun was hot, but we +were sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy while we enjoyed the +beauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we saw +Mont Saleve, the pleasant banks of Montalegre, and at a distance, +surmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blanc and the assemblage of snowy +mountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting the +opposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to the +ambition that would quit its native country, and an almost +insurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it. +

+ +

+I took the hand of Elizabeth. "You are sorrowful, my love. Ah! If +you knew what I have suffered and what I may yet endure, you would +endeavour to let me taste the quiet and freedom from despair that this +one day at least permits me to enjoy." +

+ +

+"Be happy, my dear Victor," replied Elizabeth; "there is, I hope, +nothing to distress you; and be assured that if a lively joy is not +painted in my face, my heart is contented. Something whispers to me +not to depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us, but I +will not listen to such a sinister voice. Observe how fast we move +along and how the clouds, which sometimes obscure and sometimes rise +above the dome of Mont Blanc, render this scene of beauty still more +interesting. Look also at the innumerable fish that are swimming in +the clear waters, where we can distinguish every pebble that lies at +the bottom. What a divine day! How happy and serene all nature +appears!" +

+ +

+Thus Elizabeth endeavoured to divert her thoughts and mine from all +reflection upon melancholy subjects. But her temper was fluctuating; +joy for a few instants shone in her eyes, but it continually gave place +to distraction and reverie. +

+ +

+The sun sank lower in the heavens; we passed the river Drance and +observed its path through the chasms of the higher and the glens of the +lower hills. The Alps here come closer to the lake, and we approached +the amphitheatre of mountains which forms its eastern boundary. The +spire of Evian shone under the woods that surrounded it and the range +of mountain above mountain by which it was overhung. +

+ +

+The wind, which had hitherto carried us along with amazing rapidity, +sank at sunset to a light breeze; the soft air just ruffled the water +and caused a pleasant motion among the trees as we approached the +shore, from which it wafted the most delightful scent of flowers and +hay. The sun sank beneath the horizon as we landed, and as I touched +the shore I felt those cares and fears revive which soon were to clasp +me and cling to me forever. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 23 +

+ +

+It was eight o'clock when we landed; we walked for a short time on the +shore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn and +contemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods, and mountains, obscured +in darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines. +

+ +

+The wind, which had fallen in the south, now rose with great violence +in the west. The moon had reached her summit in the heavens and was +beginning to descend; the clouds swept across it swifter than the +flight of the vulture and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected the +scene of the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless waves +that were beginning to rise. Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended. +

+ +

+I had been calm during the day, but so soon as night obscured the +shapes of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind. I was anxious +and watchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden in +my bosom; every sound terrified me, but I resolved that I would sell my +life dearly and not shrink from the conflict until my own life or that +of my adversary was extinguished. Elizabeth observed my agitation for +some time in timid and fearful silence, but there was something in my +glance which communicated terror to her, and trembling, she asked, +"What is it that agitates you, my dear Victor? What is it you fear?" +

+ +

+"Oh! Peace, peace, my love," replied I; "this night, and all will be +safe; but this night is dreadful, very dreadful." +

+ +

+I passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I reflected how +fearful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife, +and I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join her +until I had obtained some knowledge as to the situation of my enemy. +

+ +

+She left me, and I continued some time walking up and down the passages +of the house and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to +my adversary. But I discovered no trace of him and was beginning to +conjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent the +execution of his menaces when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful +scream. It came from the room into which Elizabeth had retired. As I +heard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, the +motion of every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the blood +trickling in my veins and tingling in the extremities of my limbs. This +state lasted but for an instant; the scream was repeated, and I rushed +into the room. Great God! Why did I not then expire! Why am I here +to relate the destruction of the best hope and the purest creature on +earth? She was there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, +her head hanging down and her pale and distorted features half covered +by her hair. Everywhere I turn I see the same figure—her bloodless +arms and relaxed form flung by the murderer on its bridal bier. Could +I behold this and live? Alas! Life is obstinate and clings closest +where it is most hated. For a moment only did I lose recollection; I +fell senseless on the ground. +

+ +

+When I recovered I found myself surrounded by the people of the inn; +their countenances expressed a breathless terror, but the horror of +others appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of the feelings that +oppressed me. I escaped from them to the room where lay the body of +Elizabeth, my love, my wife, so lately living, so dear, so worthy. She +had been moved from the posture in which I had first beheld her, and +now, as she lay, her head upon her arm and a handkerchief thrown across +her face and neck, I might have supposed her asleep. I rushed towards +her and embraced her with ardour, but the deadly languor and coldness +of the limbs told me that what I now held in my arms had ceased to be +the Elizabeth whom I had loved and cherished. The murderous mark of +the fiend's grasp was on her neck, and the breath had ceased to issue +from her lips. While I still hung over her in the agony of despair, I +happened to look up. The windows of the room had before been darkened, +and I felt a kind of panic on seeing the pale yellow light of the moon +illuminate the chamber. The shutters had been thrown back, and with a +sensation of horror not to be described, I saw at the open window a +figure the most hideous and abhorred. A grin was on the face of the +monster; he seemed to jeer, as with his fiendish finger he pointed +towards the corpse of my wife. I rushed towards the window, and +drawing a pistol from my bosom, fired; but he eluded me, leaped from +his station, and running with the swiftness of lightning, plunged into +the lake. +

+ +

+The report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed to +the spot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track with +boats; nets were cast, but in vain. After passing several hours, we +returned hopeless, most of my companions believing it to have been a +form conjured up by my fancy. After having landed, they proceeded to +search the country, parties going in different directions among the +woods and vines. +

+ +

+I attempted to accompany them and proceeded a short distance from the +house, but my head whirled round, my steps were like those of a drunken +man, I fell at last in a state of utter exhaustion; a film covered my +eyes, and my skin was parched with the heat of fever. In this state I +was carried back and placed on a bed, hardly conscious of what had +happened; my eyes wandered round the room as if to seek something that +I had lost. +

+ +

+After an interval I arose, and as if by instinct, crawled into the room +where the corpse of my beloved lay. There were women weeping around; I +hung over it and joined my sad tears to theirs; all this time no +distinct idea presented itself to my mind, but my thoughts rambled to +various subjects, reflecting confusedly on my misfortunes and their +cause. I was bewildered, in a cloud of wonder and horror. The death +of William, the execution of Justine, the murder of Clerval, and lastly +of my wife; even at that moment I knew not that my only remaining +friends were safe from the malignity of the fiend; my father even now +might be writhing under his grasp, and Ernest might be dead at his +feet. This idea made me shudder and recalled me to action. I started +up and resolved to return to Geneva with all possible speed. +

+ +

+There were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the lake; but +the wind was unfavourable, and the rain fell in torrents. However, it +was hardly morning, and I might reasonably hope to arrive by night. I +hired men to row and took an oar myself, for I had always experienced +relief from mental torment in bodily exercise. But the overflowing +misery I now felt, and the excess of agitation that I endured rendered +me incapable of any exertion. I threw down the oar, and leaning my +head upon my hands, gave way to every gloomy idea that arose. If I +looked up, I saw scenes which were familiar to me in my happier time +and which I had contemplated but the day before in the company of her +who was now but a shadow and a recollection. Tears streamed from my +eyes. The rain had ceased for a moment, and I saw the fish play in the +waters as they had done a few hours before; they had then been observed +by Elizabeth. Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and +sudden change. The sun might shine or the clouds might lower, but +nothing could appear to me as it had done the day before. A fiend had +snatched from me every hope of future happiness; no creature had ever +been so miserable as I was; so frightful an event is single in the +history of man. But why should I dwell upon the incidents that followed +this last overwhelming event? Mine has been a tale of horrors; I have +reached their acme, and what I must now relate can but be tedious to +you. Know that, one by one, my friends were snatched away; I was left +desolate. My own strength is exhausted, and I must tell, in a few +words, what remains of my hideous narration. I arrived at Geneva. My +father and Ernest yet lived, but the former sunk under the tidings that +I bore. I see him now, excellent and venerable old man! His eyes +wandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and their +delight—his Elizabeth, his more than daughter, whom he doted on with +all that affection which a man feels, who in the decline of life, +having few affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain. +Cursed, cursed be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs and +doomed him to waste in wretchedness! He could not live under the +horrors that were accumulated around him; the springs of existence +suddenly gave way; he was unable to rise from his bed, and in a few +days he died in my arms. +

+ +

+What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and +darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me. Sometimes, +indeed, I dreamt that I wandered in flowery meadows and pleasant vales +with the friends of my youth, but I awoke and found myself in a +dungeon. Melancholy followed, but by degrees I gained a clear +conception of my miseries and situation and was then released from my +prison. For they had called me mad, and during many months, as I +understood, a solitary cell had been my habitation. +

+ +

+Liberty, however, had been a useless gift to me, had I not, as I +awakened to reason, at the same time awakened to revenge. As the +memory of past misfortunes pressed upon me, I began to reflect on their +cause—the monster whom I had created, the miserable daemon whom I had +sent abroad into the world for my destruction. I was possessed by a +maddening rage when I thought of him, and desired and ardently prayed +that I might have him within my grasp to wreak a great and signal +revenge on his cursed head. +

+ +

+Nor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes; I began to +reflect on the best means of securing him; and for this purpose, about +a month after my release, I repaired to a criminal judge in the town +and told him that I had an accusation to make, that I knew the +destroyer of my family, and that I required him to exert his whole +authority for the apprehension of the murderer. The magistrate +listened to me with attention and kindness. +

+ +

+"Be assured, sir," said he, "no pains or exertions on my part shall be +spared to discover the villain." +

+ +

+"I thank you," replied I; "listen, therefore, to the deposition that I +have to make. It is indeed a tale so strange that I should fear you +would not credit it were there not something in truth which, however +wonderful, forces conviction. The story is too connected to be +mistaken for a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood." My manner as +I thus addressed him was impressive but calm; I had formed in my own +heart a resolution to pursue my destroyer to death, and this purpose +quieted my agony and for an interval reconciled me to life. I now +related my history briefly but with firmness and precision, marking the +dates with accuracy and never deviating into invective or exclamation. +

+ +

+The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as I +continued he became more attentive and interested; I saw him sometimes +shudder with horror; at others a lively surprise, unmingled with +disbelief, was painted on his countenance. When I had concluded my +narration I said, "This is the being whom I accuse and for whose +seizure and punishment I call upon you to exert your whole power. It +is your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and hope that your feelings +as a man will not revolt from the execution of those functions on this +occasion." This address caused a considerable change in the +physiognomy of my own auditor. He had heard my story with that half +kind of belief that is given to a tale of spirits and supernatural +events; but when he was called upon to act officially in consequence, +the whole tide of his incredulity returned. He, however, answered +mildly, "I would willingly afford you every aid in your pursuit, but +the creature of whom you speak appears to have powers which would put +all my exertions to defiance. Who can follow an animal which can +traverse the sea of ice and inhabit caves and dens where no man would +venture to intrude? Besides, some months have elapsed since the +commission of his crimes, and no one can conjecture to what place he +has wandered or what region he may now inhabit." +

+ +

+"I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit, and if he +has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the chamois +and destroyed as a beast of prey. But I perceive your thoughts; you do +not credit my narrative and do not intend to pursue my enemy with the +punishment which is his desert." As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes; +the magistrate was intimidated. "You are mistaken," said he. "I will +exert myself, and if it is in my power to seize the monster, be assured +that he shall suffer punishment proportionate to his crimes. But I +fear, from what you have yourself described to be his properties, that +this will prove impracticable; and thus, while every proper measure is +pursued, you should make up your mind to disappointment." +

+ +

+"That cannot be; but all that I can say will be of little avail. My +revenge is of no moment to you; yet, while I allow it to be a vice, I +confess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul. My rage +is unspeakable when I reflect that the murderer, whom I have turned +loose upon society, still exists. You refuse my just demand; I have +but one resource, and I devote myself, either in my life or death, to +his destruction." +

+ +

+I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was a frenzy +in my manner, and something, I doubt not, of that haughty fierceness +which the martyrs of old are said to have possessed. But to a Genevan +magistrate, whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those of +devotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance of +madness. He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child and +reverted to my tale as the effects of delirium. +

+ +

+"Man," I cried, "how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom! Cease; +you know not what it is you say." +

+ +

+I broke from the house angry and disturbed and retired to meditate on +some other mode of action. +

+ +


+ + +

+Chapter 24 +

+ +

+My present situation was one in which all voluntary thought was +swallowed up and lost. I was hurried away by fury; revenge alone +endowed me with strength and composure; it moulded my feelings and +allowed me to be calculating and calm at periods when otherwise +delirium or death would have been my portion. +

+ +

+My first resolution was to quit Geneva forever; my country, which, when +I was happy and beloved, was dear to me, now, in my adversity, became +hateful. I provided myself with a sum of money, together with a few +jewels which had belonged to my mother, and departed. And now my +wanderings began which are to cease but with life. I have traversed a +vast portion of the earth and have endured all the hardships which +travellers in deserts and barbarous countries are wont to meet. How I +have lived I hardly know; many times have I stretched my failing limbs +upon the sandy plain and prayed for death. But revenge kept me alive; +I dared not die and leave my adversary in being. +

+ +

+When I quitted Geneva my first labour was to gain some clue by which I +might trace the steps of my fiendish enemy. But my plan was unsettled, +and I wandered many hours round the confines of the town, uncertain +what path I should pursue. As night approached I found myself at the +entrance of the cemetery where William, Elizabeth, and my father +reposed. I entered it and approached the tomb which marked their +graves. Everything was silent except the leaves of the trees, which +were gently agitated by the wind; the night was nearly dark, and the +scene would have been solemn and affecting even to an uninterested +observer. The spirits of the departed seemed to flit around and to +cast a shadow, which was felt but not seen, around the head of the +mourner. +

+ +

+The deep grief which this scene had at first excited quickly gave way +to rage and despair. They were dead, and I lived; their murderer also +lived, and to destroy him I must drag out my weary existence. I knelt +on the grass and kissed the earth and with quivering lips exclaimed, +"By the sacred earth on which I kneel, by the shades that wander near +me, by the deep and eternal grief that I feel, I swear; and by thee, O +Night, and the spirits that preside over thee, to pursue the daemon who +caused this misery, until he or I shall perish in mortal conflict. For +this purpose I will preserve my life; to execute this dear revenge will +I again behold the sun and tread the green herbage of earth, which +otherwise should vanish from my eyes forever. And I call on you, +spirits of the dead, and on you, wandering ministers of vengeance, to +aid and conduct me in my work. Let the cursed and hellish monster +drink deep of agony; let him feel the despair that now torments me." I +had begun my adjuration with solemnity and an awe which almost assured +me that the shades of my murdered friends heard and approved my +devotion, but the furies possessed me as I concluded, and rage choked +my utterance. +

+ +

+I was answered through the stillness of night by a loud and fiendish +laugh. It rang on my ears long and heavily; the mountains re-echoed +it, and I felt as if all hell surrounded me with mockery and laughter. +Surely in that moment I should have been possessed by frenzy and have +destroyed my miserable existence but that my vow was heard and that I +was reserved for vengeance. The laughter died away, when a well-known +and abhorred voice, apparently close to my ear, addressed me in an +audible whisper, "I am satisfied, miserable wretch! You have +determined to live, and I am satisfied." +

+ +

+I darted towards the spot from which the sound proceeded, but the devil +eluded my grasp. Suddenly the broad disk of the moon arose and shone +full upon his ghastly and distorted shape as he fled with more than +mortal speed. +

+ +

+I pursued him, and for many months this has been my task. Guided by a +slight clue, I followed the windings of the Rhone, but vainly. The +blue Mediterranean appeared, and by a strange chance, I saw the fiend +enter by night and hide himself in a vessel bound for the Black Sea. I +took my passage in the same ship, but he escaped, I know not how. +

+ +

+Amidst the wilds of Tartary and Russia, although he still evaded me, I +have ever followed in his track. Sometimes the peasants, scared by +this horrid apparition, informed me of his path; sometimes he himself, +who feared that if I lost all trace of him I should despair and die, +left some mark to guide me. The snows descended on my head, and I saw +the print of his huge step on the white plain. To you first entering +on life, to whom care is new and agony unknown, how can you understand +what I have felt and still feel? Cold, want, and fatigue were the +least pains which I was destined to endure; I was cursed by some devil +and carried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of good +followed and directed my steps and when I most murmured would suddenly +extricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties. Sometimes, +when nature, overcome by hunger, sank under the exhaustion, a repast +was prepared for me in the desert that restored and inspirited me. The +fare was, indeed, coarse, such as the peasants of the country ate, but +I will not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I had +invoked to aid me. Often, when all was dry, the heavens cloudless, and +I was parched by thirst, a slight cloud would bedim the sky, shed the +few drops that revived me, and vanish. +

+ +

+I followed, when I could, the courses of the rivers; but the daemon +generally avoided these, as it was here that the population of the +country chiefly collected. In other places human beings were seldom +seen, and I generally subsisted on the wild animals that crossed my +path. I had money with me and gained the friendship of the villagers +by distributing it; or I brought with me some food that I had killed, +which, after taking a small part, I always presented to those who had +provided me with fire and utensils for cooking. +

+ +

+My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during +sleep alone that I could taste joy. O blessed sleep! Often, when most +miserable, I sank to repose, and my dreams lulled me even to rapture. +The spirits that guarded me had provided these moments, or rather +hours, of happiness that I might retain strength to fulfil my +pilgrimage. Deprived of this respite, I should have sunk under my +hardships. During the day I was sustained and inspirited by the hope +of night, for in sleep I saw my friends, my wife, and my beloved +country; again I saw the benevolent countenance of my father, heard the +silver tones of my Elizabeth's voice, and beheld Clerval enjoying +health and youth. Often, when wearied by a toilsome march, I persuaded +myself that I was dreaming until night should come and that I should +then enjoy reality in the arms of my dearest friends. What agonizing +fondness did I feel for them! How did I cling to their dear forms, as +sometimes they haunted even my waking hours, and persuade myself that +they still lived! At such moments vengeance, that burned within me, +died in my heart, and I pursued my path towards the destruction of the +daemon more as a task enjoined by heaven, as the mechanical impulse of +some power of which I was unconscious, than as the ardent desire of my +soul. What his feelings were whom I pursued I cannot know. Sometimes, +indeed, he left marks in writing on the barks of the trees or cut in +stone that guided me and instigated my fury. "My reign is not yet +over"—these words were legible in one of these inscriptions—"you +live, and my power is complete. Follow me; I seek the everlasting ices +of the north, where you will feel the misery of cold and frost, to +which I am impassive. You will find near this place, if you follow not +too tardily, a dead hare; eat and be refreshed. Come on, my enemy; we +have yet to wrestle for our lives, but many hard and miserable hours +must you endure until that period shall arrive." +

+ +

+Scoffing devil! Again do I vow vengeance; again do I devote thee, +miserable fiend, to torture and death. Never will I give up my search +until he or I perish; and then with what ecstasy shall I join my +Elizabeth and my departed friends, who even now prepare for me the +reward of my tedious toil and horrible pilgrimage! +

+ +

+As I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened and +the cold increased in a degree almost too severe to support. The +peasants were shut up in their hovels, and only a few of the most hardy +ventured forth to seize the animals whom starvation had forced from +their hiding-places to seek for prey. The rivers were covered with +ice, and no fish could be procured; and thus I was cut off from my +chief article of maintenance. The triumph of my enemy increased with +the difficulty of my labours. One inscription that he left was in +these words: "Prepare! Your toils only begin; wrap yourself in furs +and provide food, for we shall soon enter upon a journey where your +sufferings will satisfy my everlasting hatred." +

+ +

+My courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words; I +resolved not to fail in my purpose, and calling on heaven to support +me, I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts, +until the ocean appeared at a distance and formed the utmost boundary +of the horizon. Oh! How unlike it was to the blue seasons of the +south! Covered with ice, it was only to be distinguished from land by +its superior wildness and ruggedness. The Greeks wept for joy when +they beheld the Mediterranean from the hills of Asia, and hailed with +rapture the boundary of their toils. I did not weep, but I knelt down +and with a full heart thanked my guiding spirit for conducting me in +safety to the place where I hoped, notwithstanding my adversary's gibe, +to meet and grapple with him. +

+ +

+Some weeks before this period I had procured a sledge and dogs and thus +traversed the snows with inconceivable speed. I know not whether the +fiend possessed the same advantages, but I found that, as before I had +daily lost ground in the pursuit, I now gained on him, so much so that +when I first saw the ocean he was but one day's journey in advance, and +I hoped to intercept him before he should reach the beach. With new +courage, therefore, I pressed on, and in two days arrived at a wretched +hamlet on the seashore. I inquired of the inhabitants concerning the +fiend and gained accurate information. A gigantic monster, they said, +had arrived the night before, armed with a gun and many pistols, +putting to flight the inhabitants of a solitary cottage through fear of +his terrific appearance. He had carried off their store of winter +food, and placing it in a sledge, to draw which he had seized on a +numerous drove of trained dogs, he had harnessed them, and the same +night, to the joy of the horror-struck villagers, had pursued his +journey across the sea in a direction that led to no land; and they +conjectured that he must speedily be destroyed by the breaking of the +ice or frozen by the eternal frosts. +

+ +

+On hearing this information I suffered a temporary access of despair. +He had escaped me, and I must commence a destructive and almost endless +journey across the mountainous ices of the ocean, amidst cold that few +of the inhabitants could long endure and which I, the native of a +genial and sunny climate, could not hope to survive. Yet at the idea +that the fiend should live and be triumphant, my rage and vengeance +returned, and like a mighty tide, overwhelmed every other feeling. +After a slight repose, during which the spirits of the dead hovered +round and instigated me to toil and revenge, I prepared for my journey. +I exchanged my land-sledge for one fashioned for the inequalities of +the frozen ocean, and purchasing a plentiful stock of provisions, I +departed from land. +

+ +

+I cannot guess how many days have passed since then, but I have endured +misery which nothing but the eternal sentiment of a just retribution +burning within my heart could have enabled me to support. Immense and +rugged mountains of ice often barred up my passage, and I often heard +the thunder of the ground sea, which threatened my destruction. But +again the frost came and made the paths of the sea secure. +

+ +

+By the quantity of provision which I had consumed, I should guess that +I had passed three weeks in this journey; and the continual protraction +of hope, returning back upon the heart, often wrung bitter drops of +despondency and grief from my eyes. Despair had indeed almost secured +her prey, and I should soon have sunk beneath this misery. Once, after +the poor animals that conveyed me had with incredible toil gained the +summit of a sloping ice mountain, and one, sinking under his fatigue, +died, I viewed the expanse before me with anguish, when suddenly my eye +caught a dark speck upon the dusky plain. I strained my sight to +discover what it could be and uttered a wild cry of ecstasy when I +distinguished a sledge and the distorted proportions of a well-known +form within. Oh! With what a burning gush did hope revisit my heart! +Warm tears filled my eyes, which I hastily wiped away, that they might +not intercept the view I had of the daemon; but still my sight was +dimmed by the burning drops, until, giving way to the emotions that +oppressed me, I wept aloud. +

+ +

+But this was not the time for delay; I disencumbered the dogs of their +dead companion, gave them a plentiful portion of food, and after an +hour's rest, which was absolutely necessary, and yet which was bitterly +irksome to me, I continued my route. The sledge was still visible, nor +did I again lose sight of it except at the moments when for a short +time some ice-rock concealed it with its intervening crags. I indeed +perceptibly gained on it, and when, after nearly two days' journey, I +beheld my enemy at no more than a mile distant, my heart bounded within +me. +

+ +

+But now, when I appeared almost within grasp of my foe, my hopes were +suddenly extinguished, and I lost all trace of him more utterly than I +had ever done before. A ground sea was heard; the thunder of its +progress, as the waters rolled and swelled beneath me, became every +moment more ominous and terrific. I pressed on, but in vain. The wind +arose; the sea roared; and, as with the mighty shock of an earthquake, +it split and cracked with a tremendous and overwhelming sound. The +work was soon finished; in a few minutes a tumultuous sea rolled +between me and my enemy, and I was left drifting on a scattered piece +of ice that was continually lessening and thus preparing for me a +hideous death. In this manner many appalling hours passed; several of +my dogs died, and I myself was about to sink under the accumulation of +distress when I saw your vessel riding at anchor and holding forth to +me hopes of succour and life. I had no conception that vessels ever +came so far north and was astounded at the sight. I quickly destroyed +part of my sledge to construct oars, and by these means was enabled, +with infinite fatigue, to move my ice raft in the direction of your +ship. I had determined, if you were going southwards, still to trust +myself to the mercy of the seas rather than abandon my purpose. I +hoped to induce you to grant me a boat with which I could pursue my +enemy. But your direction was northwards. You took me on board when +my vigour was exhausted, and I should soon have sunk under my +multiplied hardships into a death which I still dread, for my task is +unfulfilled. +

+ +

+Oh! When will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the daemon, allow +me the rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet live? If I do, +swear to me, Walton, that he shall not escape, that you will seek him +and satisfy my vengeance in his death. And do I dare to ask of you to +undertake my pilgrimage, to endure the hardships that I have undergone? +No; I am not so selfish. Yet, when I am dead, if he should appear, if +the ministers of vengeance should conduct him to you, swear that he +shall not live—swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulated +woes and survive to add to the list of his dark crimes. He is eloquent +and persuasive, and once his words had even power over my heart; but +trust him not. His soul is as hellish as his form, full of treachery +and fiend-like malice. Hear him not; call on the names of William, +Justine, Clerval, Elizabeth, my father, and of the wretched Victor, and +thrust your sword into his heart. I will hover near and direct the +steel aright. +

+ +
+ +

+ Walton, in continuation.
+

+ August 26th, 17—
+

+ +
+ +

+You have read this strange and terrific story, Margaret; and do you not +feel your blood congeal with horror, like that which even now curdles +mine? Sometimes, seized with sudden agony, he could not continue his +tale; at others, his voice broken, yet piercing, uttered with +difficulty the words so replete with anguish. His fine and lovely eyes +were now lighted up with indignation, now subdued to downcast sorrow +and quenched in infinite wretchedness. Sometimes he commanded his +countenance and tones and related the most horrible incidents with a +tranquil voice, suppressing every mark of agitation; then, like a +volcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expression +of the wildest rage as he shrieked out imprecations on his persecutor. +

+ +

+His tale is connected and told with an appearance of the simplest +truth, yet I own to you that the letters of Felix and Safie, which he +showed me, and the apparition of the monster seen from our ship, +brought to me a greater conviction of the truth of his narrative than +his asseverations, however earnest and connected. Such a monster has, +then, really existence! I cannot doubt it, yet I am lost in surprise +and admiration. Sometimes I endeavoured to gain from Frankenstein the +particulars of his creature's formation, but on this point he was +impenetrable. "Are you mad, my friend?" said he. "Or whither does your +senseless curiosity lead you? Would you also create for yourself and +the world a demoniacal enemy? Peace, peace! Learn my miseries and do +not seek to increase your own." Frankenstein discovered that I made +notes concerning his history; he asked to see them and then himself +corrected and augmented them in many places, but principally in giving +the life and spirit to the conversations he held with his enemy. "Since +you have preserved my narration," said he, "I would not that a +mutilated one should go down to posterity." +

+ +

+Thus has a week passed away, while I have listened to the strangest +tale that ever imagination formed. My thoughts and every feeling of my +soul have been drunk up by the interest for my guest which this tale +and his own elevated and gentle manners have created. I wish to soothe +him, yet can I counsel one so infinitely miserable, so destitute of +every hope of consolation, to live? Oh, no! The only joy that he can +now know will be when he composes his shattered spirit to peace and +death. Yet he enjoys one comfort, the offspring of solitude and +delirium; he believes that when in dreams he holds converse with his +friends and derives from that communion consolation for his miseries or +excitements to his vengeance, that they are not the creations of his +fancy, but the beings themselves who visit him from the regions of a +remote world. This faith gives a solemnity to his reveries that render +them to me almost as imposing and interesting as truth. +

+ +

+Our conversations are not always confined to his own history and +misfortunes. On every point of general literature he displays +unbounded knowledge and a quick and piercing apprehension. His +eloquence is forcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relates +a pathetic incident or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love, +without tears. What a glorious creature must he have been in the days +of his prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin! He seems +to feel his own worth and the greatness of his fall. +

+ +

+"When younger," said he, "I believed myself destined for some great +enterprise. My feelings are profound, but I possessed a coolness of +judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This sentiment +of the worth of my nature supported me when others would have been +oppressed, for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless grief +those talents that might be useful to my fellow creatures. When I +reflected on the work I had completed, no less a one than the creation +of a sensitive and rational animal, I could not rank myself with the +herd of common projectors. But this thought, which supported me in the +commencement of my career, now serves only to plunge me lower in the +dust. All my speculations and hopes are as nothing, and like the +archangel who aspired to omnipotence, I am chained in an eternal hell. +My imagination was vivid, yet my powers of analysis and application +were intense; by the union of these qualities I conceived the idea and +executed the creation of a man. Even now I cannot recollect without +passion my reveries while the work was incomplete. I trod heaven in my +thoughts, now exulting in my powers, now burning with the idea of their +effects. From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty +ambition; but how am I sunk! Oh! My friend, if you had known me as I +once was, you would not recognize me in this state of degradation. +Despondency rarely visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear me +on, until I fell, never, never again to rise." Must I then lose this +admirable being? I have longed for a friend; I have sought one who +would sympathize with and love me. Behold, on these desert seas I have +found such a one, but I fear I have gained him only to know his value +and lose him. I would reconcile him to life, but he repulses the idea. +

+ +

+"I thank you, Walton," he said, "for your kind intentions towards so +miserable a wretch; but when you speak of new ties and fresh +affections, think you that any can replace those who are gone? Can any +man be to me as Clerval was, or any woman another Elizabeth? Even +where the affections are not strongly moved by any superior excellence, +the companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our +minds which hardly any later friend can obtain. They know our +infantine dispositions, which, however they may be afterwards modified, +are never eradicated; and they can judge of our actions with more +certain conclusions as to the integrity of our motives. A sister or a +brother can never, unless indeed such symptoms have been shown early, +suspect the other of fraud or false dealing, when another friend, +however strongly he may be attached, may, in spite of himself, be +contemplated with suspicion. But I enjoyed friends, dear not only +through habit and association, but from their own merits; and wherever +I am, the soothing voice of my Elizabeth and the conversation of +Clerval will be ever whispered in my ear. They are dead, and but one +feeling in such a solitude can persuade me to preserve my life. If I +were engaged in any high undertaking or design, fraught with extensive +utility to my fellow creatures, then could I live to fulfil it. But +such is not my destiny; I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I +gave existence; then my lot on earth will be fulfilled and I may die." +

+ +


+ +

+September 2nd +

+My beloved Sister, +

+ +

+I write to you, encompassed by peril and ignorant whether I am ever +doomed to see again dear England and the dearer friends that inhabit +it. I am surrounded by mountains of ice which admit of no escape and +threaten every moment to crush my vessel. The brave fellows whom I +have persuaded to be my companions look towards me for aid, but I have +none to bestow. There is something terribly appalling in our +situation, yet my courage and hopes do not desert me. Yet it is +terrible to reflect that the lives of all these men are endangered +through me. If we are lost, my mad schemes are the cause. +

+ +

+And what, Margaret, will be the state of your mind? You will not hear +of my destruction, and you will anxiously await my return. Years will +pass, and you will have visitings of despair and yet be tortured by +hope. Oh! My beloved sister, the sickening failing of your heart-felt +expectations is, in prospect, more terrible to me than my own death. +

+ +

+But you have a husband and lovely children; you may be happy. Heaven +bless you and make you so! +

+ +

+My unfortunate guest regards me with the tenderest compassion. He +endeavours to fill me with hope and talks as if life were a possession +which he valued. He reminds me how often the same accidents have +happened to other navigators who have attempted this sea, and in spite +of myself, he fills me with cheerful auguries. Even the sailors feel +the power of his eloquence; when he speaks, they no longer despair; he +rouses their energies, and while they hear his voice they believe these +vast mountains of ice are mole-hills which will vanish before the +resolutions of man. These feelings are transitory; each day of +expectation delayed fills them with fear, and I almost dread a mutiny +caused by this despair. +

+ +

+ +

+September 5th +

+ +
+ +

+A scene has just passed of such uncommon interest that, although it is +highly probable that these papers may never reach you, yet I cannot +forbear recording it. +

+ +

+We are still surrounded by mountains of ice, still in imminent danger +of being crushed in their conflict. The cold is excessive, and many of +my unfortunate comrades have already found a grave amidst this scene of +desolation. Frankenstein has daily declined in health; a feverish fire +still glimmers in his eyes, but he is exhausted, and when suddenly +roused to any exertion, he speedily sinks again into apparent +lifelessness. +

+ +

+I mentioned in my last letter the fears I entertained of a mutiny. +This morning, as I sat watching the wan countenance of my friend—his +eyes half closed and his limbs hanging listlessly—I was roused by half +a dozen of the sailors, who demanded admission into the cabin. They +entered, and their leader addressed me. He told me that he and his +companions had been chosen by the other sailors to come in deputation +to me to make me a requisition which, in justice, I could not refuse. +We were immured in ice and should probably never escape, but they +feared that if, as was possible, the ice should dissipate and a free +passage be opened, I should be rash enough to continue my voyage and +lead them into fresh dangers, after they might happily have surmounted +this. They insisted, therefore, that I should engage with a solemn +promise that if the vessel should be freed I would instantly direct my +course southwards. +

+ +

+This speech troubled me. I had not despaired, nor had I yet conceived +the idea of returning if set free. Yet could I, in justice, or even in +possibility, refuse this demand? I hesitated before I answered, when +Frankenstein, who had at first been silent, and indeed appeared hardly +to have force enough to attend, now roused himself; his eyes sparkled, +and his cheeks flushed with momentary vigour. Turning towards the men, +he said, "What do you mean? What do you demand of your captain? Are +you, then, so easily turned from your design? Did you not call this a +glorious expedition? +

+ +

+"And wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was smooth and +placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers and +terror, because at every new incident your fortitude was to be called +forth and your courage exhibited, because danger and death surrounded +it, and these you were to brave and overcome. For this was it a +glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking. You were +hereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species, your names +adored as belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour and +the benefit of mankind. And now, behold, with the first imagination of +danger, or, if you will, the first mighty and terrific trial of your +courage, you shrink away and are content to be handed down as men who +had not strength enough to endure cold and peril; and so, poor souls, +they were chilly and returned to their warm firesides. Why, that +requires not this preparation; ye need not have come thus far and +dragged your captain to the shame of a defeat merely to prove +yourselves cowards. Oh! Be men, or be more than men. Be steady to +your purposes and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as +your hearts may be; it is mutable and cannot withstand you if you say +that it shall not. Do not return to your families with the stigma of +disgrace marked on your brows. Return as heroes who have fought and +conquered and who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe." +He spoke this with a voice so modulated to the different feelings +expressed in his speech, with an eye so full of lofty design and +heroism, that can you wonder that these men were moved? They looked at +one another and were unable to reply. I spoke; I told them to retire +and consider of what had been said, that I would not lead them farther +north if they strenuously desired the contrary, but that I hoped that, +with reflection, their courage would return. They retired and I turned +towards my friend, but he was sunk in languor and almost deprived of +life. +

+ +

+How all this will terminate, I know not, but I had rather die than +return shamefully, my purpose unfulfilled. Yet I fear such will be my +fate; the men, unsupported by ideas of glory and honour, can never +willingly continue to endure their present hardships. +

+ +

+ +

+September 7th +

+ +
+ +

+The die is cast; I have consented to return if we are not destroyed. +Thus are my hopes blasted by cowardice and indecision; I come back +ignorant and disappointed. It requires more philosophy than I possess +to bear this injustice with patience. +

+ +

+ +

+September 12th +

+ +
+ +

+It is past; I am returning to England. I have lost my hopes of utility +and glory; I have lost my friend. But I will endeavour to detail these +bitter circumstances to you, my dear sister; and while I am wafted +towards England and towards you, I will not despond. +

+ +

+September 9th, the ice began to move, and roarings like thunder were +heard at a distance as the islands split and cracked in every +direction. We were in the most imminent peril, but as we could only +remain passive, my chief attention was occupied by my unfortunate guest +whose illness increased in such a degree that he was entirely confined +to his bed. The ice cracked behind us and was driven with force +towards the north; a breeze sprang from the west, and on the 11th the +passage towards the south became perfectly free. When the sailors saw +this and that their return to their native country was apparently +assured, a shout of tumultuous joy broke from them, loud and +long-continued. Frankenstein, who was dozing, awoke and asked the +cause of the tumult. "They shout," I said, "because they will soon +return to England." +

+ +

+"Do you, then, really return?" +

+ +

+"Alas! Yes; I cannot withstand their demands. I cannot lead them +unwillingly to danger, and I must return." +

+ +

+"Do so, if you will; but I will not. You may give up your purpose, but +mine is assigned to me by heaven, and I dare not. I am weak, but +surely the spirits who assist my vengeance will endow me with +sufficient strength." Saying this, he endeavoured to spring from the +bed, but the exertion was too great for him; he fell back and fainted. +

+ +

+It was long before he was restored, and I often thought that life was +entirely extinct. At length he opened his eyes; he breathed with +difficulty and was unable to speak. The surgeon gave him a composing +draught and ordered us to leave him undisturbed. In the meantime he +told me that my friend had certainly not many hours to live. +

+ +

+His sentence was pronounced, and I could only grieve and be patient. I +sat by his bed, watching him; his eyes were closed, and I thought he +slept; but presently he called to me in a feeble voice, and bidding me +come near, said, "Alas! The strength I relied on is gone; I feel that +I shall soon die, and he, my enemy and persecutor, may still be in +being. Think not, Walton, that in the last moments of my existence I +feel that burning hatred and ardent desire of revenge I once expressed; +but I feel myself justified in desiring the death of my adversary. +During these last days I have been occupied in examining my past +conduct; nor do I find it blamable. In a fit of enthusiastic madness I +created a rational creature and was bound towards him to assure, as far +as was in my power, his happiness and well-being. +

+ +

+"This was my duty, but there was another still paramount to that. My +duties towards the beings of my own species had greater claims to my +attention because they included a greater proportion of happiness or +misery. Urged by this view, I refused, and I did right in refusing, to +create a companion for the first creature. He showed unparalleled +malignity and selfishness in evil; he destroyed my friends; he devoted +to destruction beings who possessed exquisite sensations, happiness, +and wisdom; nor do I know where this thirst for vengeance may end. +Miserable himself that he may render no other wretched, he ought to +die. The task of his destruction was mine, but I have failed. When +actuated by selfish and vicious motives, I asked you to undertake my +unfinished work, and I renew this request now, when I am only induced +by reason and virtue. +

+ +

+"Yet I cannot ask you to renounce your country and friends to fulfil +this task; and now that you are returning to England, you will have +little chance of meeting with him. But the consideration of these +points, and the well balancing of what you may esteem your duties, I +leave to you; my judgment and ideas are already disturbed by the near +approach of death. I dare not ask you to do what I think right, for I +may still be misled by passion. +

+ +

+"That he should live to be an instrument of mischief disturbs me; in +other respects, this hour, when I momentarily expect my release, is the +only happy one which I have enjoyed for several years. The forms of +the beloved dead flit before me, and I hasten to their arms. Farewell, +Walton! Seek happiness in tranquillity and avoid ambition, even if it +be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in +science and discoveries. Yet why do I say this? I have myself been +blasted in these hopes, yet another may succeed." +

+ +

+His voice became fainter as he spoke, and at length, exhausted by his +effort, he sank into silence. About half an hour afterwards he +attempted again to speak but was unable; he pressed my hand feebly, and +his eyes closed forever, while the irradiation of a gentle smile passed +away from his lips. +

+ +

+Margaret, what comment can I make on the untimely extinction of this +glorious spirit? What can I say that will enable you to understand the +depth of my sorrow? All that I should express would be inadequate and +feeble. My tears flow; my mind is overshadowed by a cloud of +disappointment. But I journey towards England, and I may there find +consolation. +

+ +

+I am interrupted. What do these sounds portend? It is midnight; the +breeze blows fairly, and the watch on deck scarcely stir. Again there +is a sound as of a human voice, but hoarser; it comes from the cabin +where the remains of Frankenstein still lie. I must arise and examine. +Good night, my sister. +

+ +

+Great God! what a scene has just taken place! I am yet dizzy with the +remembrance of it. I hardly know whether I shall have the power to +detail it; yet the tale which I have recorded would be incomplete +without this final and wonderful catastrophe. I entered the cabin where +lay the remains of my ill-fated and admirable friend. Over him hung a +form which I cannot find words to describe—gigantic in stature, yet +uncouth and distorted in its proportions. As he hung over the coffin, +his face was concealed by long locks of ragged hair; but one vast hand +was extended, in colour and apparent texture like that of a mummy. When +he heard the sound of my approach, he ceased to utter exclamations of +grief and horror and sprung towards the window. Never did I behold a +vision so horrible as his face, of such loathsome yet appalling +hideousness. I shut my eyes involuntarily and endeavoured to recollect +what were my duties with regard to this destroyer. I called on him to +stay. +

+ +

+He paused, looking on me with wonder, and again turning towards the +lifeless form of his creator, he seemed to forget my presence, and +every feature and gesture seemed instigated by the wildest rage of some +uncontrollable passion. +

+ +

+"That is also my victim!" he exclaimed. "In his murder my crimes are +consummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its close! +Oh, Frankenstein! Generous and self-devoted being! What does it avail +that I now ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee +by destroying all thou lovedst. Alas! He is cold, he cannot answer +me." His voice seemed suffocated, and my first impulses, which had +suggested to me the duty of obeying the dying request of my friend in +destroying his enemy, were now suspended by a mixture of curiosity and +compassion. I approached this tremendous being; I dared not again +raise my eyes to his face, there was something so scaring and unearthly +in his ugliness. I attempted to speak, but the words died away on my +lips. The monster continued to utter wild and incoherent +self-reproaches. At length I gathered resolution to address him in a +pause of the tempest of his passion. +

+ +

+"Your repentance," I said, "is now superfluous. If you had listened to +the voice of conscience and heeded the stings of remorse before you had +urged your diabolical vengeance to this extremity, Frankenstein would +yet have lived." +

+ +

+"And do you dream?" said the daemon. "Do you think that I was then +dead to agony and remorse? He," he continued, pointing to the corpse, +"he suffered not in the consummation of the deed. Oh! Not the +ten-thousandth portion of the anguish that was mine during the +lingering detail of its execution. A frightful selfishness hurried me +on, while my heart was poisoned with remorse. Think you that the +groans of Clerval were music to my ears? My heart was fashioned to be +susceptible of love and sympathy, and when wrenched by misery to vice +and hatred, it did not endure the violence of the change without +torture such as you cannot even imagine. +

+ +

+"After the murder of Clerval I returned to Switzerland, heart-broken +and overcome. I pitied Frankenstein; my pity amounted to horror; I +abhorred myself. But when I discovered that he, the author at once of +my existence and of its unspeakable torments, dared to hope for +happiness, that while he accumulated wretchedness and despair upon me +he sought his own enjoyment in feelings and passions from the +indulgence of which I was forever barred, then impotent envy and bitter +indignation filled me with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. I +recollected my threat and resolved that it should be accomplished. I +knew that I was preparing for myself a deadly torture, but I was the +slave, not the master, of an impulse which I detested yet could not +disobey. Yet when she died! Nay, then I was not miserable. I had +cast off all feeling, subdued all anguish, to riot in the excess of my +despair. Evil thenceforth became my good. Urged thus far, I had no +choice but to adapt my nature to an element which I had willingly +chosen. The completion of my demoniacal design became an insatiable +passion. And now it is ended; there is my last victim!" +

+ +

+I was at first touched by the expressions of his misery; yet, when I +called to mind what Frankenstein had said of his powers of eloquence +and persuasion, and when I again cast my eyes on the lifeless form of +my friend, indignation was rekindled within me. "Wretch!" I said. "It +is well that you come here to whine over the desolation that you have +made. You throw a torch into a pile of buildings, and when they are +consumed, you sit among the ruins and lament the fall. Hypocritical +fiend! If he whom you mourn still lived, still would he be the object, +again would he become the prey, of your accursed vengeance. It is not +pity that you feel; you lament only because the victim of your +malignity is withdrawn from your power." +

+ +

+"Oh, it is not thus—not thus," interrupted the being. "Yet such must +be the impression conveyed to you by what appears to be the purport of +my actions. Yet I seek not a fellow feeling in my misery. No sympathy +may I ever find. When I first sought it, it was the love of virtue, +the feelings of happiness and affection with which my whole being +overflowed, that I wished to be participated. But now that virtue has +become to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into +bitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am +content to suffer alone while my sufferings shall endure; when I die, I +am well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my memory. +Once my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame, and of +enjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings who, pardoning my +outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was +capable of unfolding. I was nourished with high thoughts of honour and +devotion. But now crime has degraded me beneath the meanest animal. No +guilt, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable to +mine. When I run over the frightful catalogue of my sins, I cannot +believe that I am the same creature whose thoughts were once filled +with sublime and transcendent visions of the beauty and the majesty of +goodness. But it is even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignant +devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates +in his desolation; I am alone. +

+ +

+"You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my +crimes and his misfortunes. But in the detail which he gave you of them +he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I endured +wasting in impotent passions. For while I destroyed his hopes, I did +not satisfy my own desires. They were forever ardent and craving; still +I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there no +injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all +humankind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his +friend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic +who sought to destroy the saviour of his child? Nay, these are virtuous +and immaculate beings! I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an +abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on. Even now my +blood boils at the recollection of this injustice. +

+ +

+"But it is true that I am a wretch. I have murdered the lovely and the +helpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept and grasped to +death his throat who never injured me or any other living thing. I +have devoted my creator, the select specimen of all that is worthy of +love and admiration among men, to misery; I have pursued him even to +that irremediable ruin. +

+ +

+"There he lies, white and cold in death. You hate me, but your +abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself. I look on the +hands which executed the deed; I think on the heart in which the +imagination of it was conceived and long for the moment when these +hands will meet my eyes, when that imagination will haunt my thoughts +no more. +

+ +

+"Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief. My work +is nearly complete. Neither yours nor any man's death is needed to +consummate the series of my being and accomplish that which must be +done, but it requires my own. Do not think that I shall be slow to +perform this sacrifice. I shall quit your vessel on the ice raft which +brought me thither and shall seek the most northern extremity of the +globe; I shall collect my funeral pile and consume to ashes this +miserable frame, that its remains may afford no light to any curious +and unhallowed wretch who would create such another as I have been. I +shall die. I shall no longer feel the agonies which now consume me or +be the prey of feelings unsatisfied, yet unquenched. He is dead who +called me into being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembrance +of us both will speedily vanish. I shall no longer see the sun or +stars or feel the winds play on my cheeks. +

+ +

+"Light, feeling, and sense will pass away; and in this condition must I +find my happiness. Some years ago, when the images which this world +affords first opened upon me, when I felt the cheering warmth of summer +and heard the rustling of the leaves and the warbling of the birds, and +these were all to me, I should have wept to die; now it is my only +consolation. Polluted by crimes and torn by the bitterest remorse, +where can I find rest but in death? +

+ +

+"Farewell! I leave you, and in you the last of humankind whom these +eyes will ever behold. Farewell, Frankenstein! If thou wert yet alive +and yet cherished a desire of revenge against me, it would be better +satiated in my life than in my destruction. But it was not so; thou +didst seek my extinction, that I might not cause greater wretchedness; +and if yet, in some mode unknown to me, thou hadst not ceased to think +and feel, thou wouldst not desire against me a vengeance greater than +that which I feel. Blasted as thou wert, my agony was still superior to +thine, for the bitter sting of remorse will not cease to rankle in my +wounds until death shall close them forever. +

+ +

+"But soon," he cried with sad and solemn enthusiasm, "I shall die, and +what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be +extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly and exult in the +agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will +fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit +will sleep in peace, or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. +Farewell." +

+ +

+He sprang from the cabin window as he said this, upon the ice raft +which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves and +lost in darkness and distance. +

+ +



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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Etext prepared by Emma Dudding, emma_302@hotmail.com +John Bickers, jbickers@ihug.co.nz +and Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com + + + + + +FAIRY TALES + +THE BROTHERS GRIMM + + + + +PREPARER'S NOTE + + + + +The text is based on translations from +the Grimms' Kinder und Hausmarchen by + +Edgar Taylor and + +Marian Edwardes. + + + + +CONTENTS: + +THE GOLDEN BIRD +HANS IN LUCK +JORINDA AND JORINDEL +THE TRAVELLING MUSICIANS +OLD SULTAN +THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN +BRIAR ROSE +THE DOG AND THE SPARROW +THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES +THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE +THE WILLOW-WREN AND THE BEAR +THE FROG-PRINCE +CAT AND MOUSE IN PARTNERSHIP +THE GOOSE-GIRL +THE ADVENTURES OF CHANTICLEER AND PARTLET +1. HOW THEY WENT TO THE MOUNTAINS TO EAT NUTS +2. HOW CHANTICLEER AND PARTLET WENT TO VIST MR KORBES +RAPUNZEL +FUNDEVOGEL +THE VALIANT LITTLE TAILOR +HANSEL AND GRETEL +THE MOUSE, THE BIRD, AND THE SAUSAGE +MOTHER HOLLE +LITTLE RED-CAP [LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD] +THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM +TOM THUMB +RUMPELSTILTSKIN +CLEVER GRETEL +THE OLD MAN AND HIS GRANDSON +THE LITTLE PEASANT +FREDERICK AND CATHERINE +SWEETHEART ROLAND +SNOWDROP +THE PINK +CLEVER ELSIE +THE MISER IN THE BUSH +ASHPUTTEL +THE WHITE SNAKE +THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN LITTLE KIDS +THE QUEEN BEE +THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER +THE JUNIPER-TREE +the juniper-tree. +THE TURNIP +CLEVER HANS +THE THREE LANGUAGES +THE FOX AND THE CAT +THE FOUR CLEVER BROTHERS +LILY AND THE LION +THE FOX AND THE HORSE +THE BLUE LIGHT +THE RAVEN +THE GOLDEN GOOSE +THE WATER OF LIFE +THE TWELVE HUNTSMEN +THE KING OF THE GOLDEN MOUNTAIN +DOCTOR KNOWALL +THE SEVEN RAVENS +THE WEDDING OF MRS FOX +FIRST STORY +SECOND STORY +THE SALAD +THE STORY OF THE YOUTH WHO WENT FORTH TO LEARN WHAT FEAR WAS +KING GRISLY-BEARD +IRON HANS +CAT-SKIN +SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED + + + + + +THE BROTHERS GRIMM +FAIRY TALES + + + +THE GOLDEN BIRD + +A certain king had a beautiful garden, and in the garden stood a tree +which bore golden apples. These apples were always counted, and about +the time when they began to grow ripe it was found that every night +one of them was gone. The king became very angry at this, and ordered +the gardener to keep watch all night under the tree. The gardener set +his eldest son to watch; but about twelve o'clock he fell asleep, and +in the morning another of the apples was missing. Then the second son +was ordered to watch; and at midnight he too fell asleep, and in the +morning another apple was gone. Then the third son offered to keep +watch; but the gardener at first would not let him, for fear some harm +should come to him: however, at last he consented, and the young man +laid himself under the tree to watch. As the clock struck twelve he +heard a rustling noise in the air, and a bird came flying that was of +pure gold; and as it was snapping at one of the apples with its beak, +the gardener's son jumped up and shot an arrow at it. But the arrow +did the bird no harm; only it dropped a golden feather from its tail, +and then flew away. The golden feather was brought to the king in the +morning, and all the council was called together. Everyone agreed that +it was worth more than all the wealth of the kingdom: but the king +said, 'One feather is of no use to me, I must have the whole bird.' + +Then the gardener's eldest son set out and thought to find the golden +bird very easily; and when he had gone but a little way, he came to a +wood, and by the side of the wood he saw a fox sitting; so he took his +bow and made ready to shoot at it. Then the fox said, 'Do not shoot +me, for I will give you good counsel; I know what your business is, +and that you want to find the golden bird. You will reach a village in +the evening; and when you get there, you will see two inns opposite to +each other, one of which is very pleasant and beautiful to look at: go +not in there, but rest for the night in the other, though it may +appear to you to be very poor and mean.' But the son thought to +himself, 'What can such a beast as this know about the matter?' So he +shot his arrow at the fox; but he missed it, and it set up its tail +above its back and ran into the wood. Then he went his way, and in the +evening came to the village where the two inns were; and in one of +these were people singing, and dancing, and feasting; but the other +looked very dirty, and poor. 'I should be very silly,' said he, 'if I +went to that shabby house, and left this charming place'; so he went +into the smart house, and ate and drank at his ease, and forgot the +bird, and his country too. + +Time passed on; and as the eldest son did not come back, and no +tidings were heard of him, the second son set out, and the same thing +happened to him. He met the fox, who gave him the good advice: but +when he came to the two inns, his eldest brother was standing at the +window where the merrymaking was, and called to him to come in; and he +could not withstand the temptation, but went in, and forgot the golden +bird and his country in the same manner. + +Time passed on again, and the youngest son too wished to set out into +the wide world to seek for the golden bird; but his father would not +listen to it for a long while, for he was very fond of his son, and +was afraid that some ill luck might happen to him also, and prevent +his coming back. However, at last it was agreed he should go, for he +would not rest at home; and as he came to the wood, he met the fox, +and heard the same good counsel. But he was thankful to the fox, and +did not attempt his life as his brothers had done; so the fox said, +'Sit upon my tail, and you will travel faster.' So he sat down, and +the fox began to run, and away they went over stock and stone so quick +that their hair whistled in the wind. + +When they came to the village, the son followed the fox's counsel, and +without looking about him went to the shabby inn and rested there all +night at his ease. In the morning came the fox again and met him as he +was beginning his journey, and said, 'Go straight forward, till you +come to a castle, before which lie a whole troop of soldiers fast +asleep and snoring: take no notice of them, but go into the castle and +pass on and on till you come to a room, where the golden bird sits in +a wooden cage; close by it stands a beautiful golden cage; but do not +try to take the bird out of the shabby cage and put it into the +handsome one, otherwise you will repent it.' Then the fox stretched +out his tail again, and the young man sat himself down, and away they +went over stock and stone till their hair whistled in the wind. + +Before the castle gate all was as the fox had said: so the son went in +and found the chamber where the golden bird hung in a wooden cage, and +below stood the golden cage, and the three golden apples that had been +lost were lying close by it. Then thought he to himself, 'It will be a +very droll thing to bring away such a fine bird in this shabby cage'; +so he opened the door and took hold of it and put it into the golden +cage. But the bird set up such a loud scream that all the soldiers +awoke, and they took him prisoner and carried him before the king. The +next morning the court sat to judge him; and when all was heard, it +sentenced him to die, unless he should bring the king the golden horse +which could run as swiftly as the wind; and if he did this, he was to +have the golden bird given him for his own. + +So he set out once more on his journey, sighing, and in great despair, +when on a sudden his friend the fox met him, and said, 'You see now +what has happened on account of your not listening to my counsel. I +will still, however, tell you how to find the golden horse, if you +will do as I bid you. You must go straight on till you come to the +castle where the horse stands in his stall: by his side will lie the +groom fast asleep and snoring: take away the horse quietly, but be +sure to put the old leathern saddle upon him, and not the golden one +that is close by it.' Then the son sat down on the fox's tail, and +away they went over stock and stone till their hair whistled in the +wind. + +All went right, and the groom lay snoring with his hand upon the +golden saddle. But when the son looked at the horse, he thought it a +great pity to put the leathern saddle upon it. 'I will give him the +good one,' said he; 'I am sure he deserves it.' As he took up the +golden saddle the groom awoke and cried out so loud, that all the +guards ran in and took him prisoner, and in the morning he was again +brought before the court to be judged, and was sentenced to die. But +it was agreed, that, if he could bring thither the beautiful princess, +he should live, and have the bird and the horse given him for his own. + +Then he went his way very sorrowful; but the old fox came and said, +'Why did not you listen to me? If you had, you would have carried away +both the bird and the horse; yet will I once more give you counsel. Go +straight on, and in the evening you will arrive at a castle. At twelve +o'clock at night the princess goes to the bathing-house: go up to her +and give her a kiss, and she will let you lead her away; but take care +you do not suffer her to go and take leave of her father and mother.' +Then the fox stretched out his tail, and so away they went over stock +and stone till their hair whistled again. + +As they came to the castle, all was as the fox had said, and at twelve +o'clock the young man met the princes going to the bath and gave her +the kiss, and she agreed to run away with him, but begged with many +tears that he would let her take leave of her father. At first he +refused, but she wept still more and more, and fell at his feet, till +at last he consented; but the moment she came to her father's house +the guards awoke and he was taken prisoner again. + +Then he was brought before the king, and the king said, 'You shall +never have my daughter unless in eight days you dig away the hill that +stops the view from my window.' Now this hill was so big that the +whole world could not take it away: and when he had worked for seven +days, and had done very little, the fox came and said. 'Lie down and +go to sleep; I will work for you.' And in the morning he awoke and the +hill was gone; so he went merrily to the king, and told him that now +that it was removed he must give him the princess. + +Then the king was obliged to keep his word, and away went the young +man and the princess; and the fox came and said to him, 'We will have +all three, the princess, the horse, and the bird.' 'Ah!' said the +young man, 'that would be a great thing, but how can you contrive it?' + +'If you will only listen,' said the fox, 'it can be done. When you +come to the king, and he asks for the beautiful princess, you must +say, "Here she is!" Then he will be very joyful; and you will mount +the golden horse that they are to give you, and put out your hand to +take leave of them; but shake hands with the princess last. Then lift +her quickly on to the horse behind you; clap your spurs to his side, +and gallop away as fast as you can.' + +All went right: then the fox said, 'When you come to the castle where +the bird is, I will stay with the princess at the door, and you will +ride in and speak to the king; and when he sees that it is the right +horse, he will bring out the bird; but you must sit still, and say +that you want to look at it, to see whether it is the true golden +bird; and when you get it into your hand, ride away.' + +This, too, happened as the fox said; they carried off the bird, the +princess mounted again, and they rode on to a great wood. Then the fox +came, and said, 'Pray kill me, and cut off my head and my feet.' But +the young man refused to do it: so the fox said, 'I will at any rate +give you good counsel: beware of two things; ransom no one from the +gallows, and sit down by the side of no river.' Then away he went. +'Well,' thought the young man, 'it is no hard matter to keep that +advice.' + +He rode on with the princess, till at last he came to the village +where he had left his two brothers. And there he heard a great noise +and uproar; and when he asked what was the matter, the people said, +'Two men are going to be hanged.' As he came nearer, he saw that the +two men were his brothers, who had turned robbers; so he said, 'Cannot +they in any way be saved?' But the people said 'No,' unless he would +bestow all his money upon the rascals and buy their liberty. Then he +did not stay to think about the matter, but paid what was asked, and +his brothers were given up, and went on with him towards their home. + +And as they came to the wood where the fox first met them, it was so +cool and pleasant that the two brothers said, 'Let us sit down by the +side of the river, and rest a while, to eat and drink.' So he said, +'Yes,' and forgot the fox's counsel, and sat down on the side of the +river; and while he suspected nothing, they came behind, and threw him +down the bank, and took the princess, the horse, and the bird, and +went home to the king their master, and said. 'All this have we won by +our labour.' Then there was great rejoicing made; but the horse would +not eat, the bird would not sing, and the princess wept. + +The youngest son fell to the bottom of the river's bed: luckily it was +nearly dry, but his bones were almost broken, and the bank was so +steep that he could find no way to get out. Then the old fox came once +more, and scolded him for not following his advice; otherwise no evil +would have befallen him: 'Yet,' said he, 'I cannot leave you here, so +lay hold of my tail and hold fast.' Then he pulled him out of the +river, and said to him, as he got upon the bank, 'Your brothers have +set watch to kill you, if they find you in the kingdom.' So he dressed +himself as a poor man, and came secretly to the king's court, and was +scarcely within the doors when the horse began to eat, and the bird to +sing, and princess left off weeping. Then he went to the king, and +told him all his brothers' roguery; and they were seized and punished, +and he had the princess given to him again; and after the king's death +he was heir to his kingdom. + +A long while after, he went to walk one day in the wood, and the old +fox met him, and besought him with tears in his eyes to kill him, and +cut off his head and feet. And at last he did so, and in a moment the +fox was changed into a man, and turned out to be the brother of the +princess, who had been lost a great many many years. + + + +HANS IN LUCK + +Some men are born to good luck: all they do or try to do comes right-- +all that falls to them is so much gain--all their geese are swans--all +their cards are trumps--toss them which way you will, they will +always, like poor puss, alight upon their legs, and only move on so +much the faster. The world may very likely not always think of them as +they think of themselves, but what care they for the world? what can +it know about the matter? + +One of these lucky beings was neighbour Hans. Seven long years he had +worked hard for his master. At last he said, 'Master, my time is up; I +must go home and see my poor mother once more: so pray pay me my wages +and let me go.' And the master said, 'You have been a faithful and +good servant, Hans, so your pay shall be handsome.' Then he gave him a +lump of silver as big as his head. + +Hans took out his pocket-handkerchief, put the piece of silver into +it, threw it over his shoulder, and jogged off on his road homewards. +As he went lazily on, dragging one foot after another, a man came in +sight, trotting gaily along on a capital horse. 'Ah!' said Hans aloud, +'what a fine thing it is to ride on horseback! There he sits as easy +and happy as if he was at home, in the chair by his fireside; he trips +against no stones, saves shoe-leather, and gets on he hardly knows +how.' Hans did not speak so softly but the horseman heard it all, and +said, 'Well, friend, why do you go on foot then?' 'Ah!' said he, 'I +have this load to carry: to be sure it is silver, but it is so heavy +that I can't hold up my head, and you must know it hurts my shoulder +sadly.' 'What do you say of making an exchange?' said the horseman. 'I +will give you my horse, and you shall give me the silver; which will +save you a great deal of trouble in carrying such a heavy load about +with you.' 'With all my heart,' said Hans: 'but as you are so kind to +me, I must tell you one thing--you will have a weary task to draw that +silver about with you.' However, the horseman got off, took the +silver, helped Hans up, gave him the bridle into one hand and the whip +into the other, and said, 'When you want to go very fast, smack your +lips loudly together, and cry "Jip!"' + +Hans was delighted as he sat on the horse, drew himself up, squared +his elbows, turned out his toes, cracked his whip, and rode merrily +off, one minute whistling a merry tune, and another singing, + + 'No care and no sorrow, + A fig for the morrow! + We'll laugh and be merry, + Sing neigh down derry!' + +After a time he thought he should like to go a little faster, so he +smacked his lips and cried 'Jip!' Away went the horse full gallop; and +before Hans knew what he was about, he was thrown off, and lay on his +back by the road-side. His horse would have ran off, if a shepherd who +was coming by, driving a cow, had not stopped it. Hans soon came to +himself, and got upon his legs again, sadly vexed, and said to the +shepherd, 'This riding is no joke, when a man has the luck to get upon +a beast like this that stumbles and flings him off as if it would +break his neck. However, I'm off now once for all: I like your cow now +a great deal better than this smart beast that played me this trick, +and has spoiled my best coat, you see, in this puddle; which, by the +by, smells not very like a nosegay. One can walk along at one's +leisure behind that cow--keep good company, and have milk, butter, and +cheese, every day, into the bargain. What would I give to have such a +prize!' 'Well,' said the shepherd, 'if you are so fond of her, I will +change my cow for your horse; I like to do good to my neighbours, even +though I lose by it myself.' 'Done!' said Hans, merrily. 'What a noble +heart that good man has!' thought he. Then the shepherd jumped upon +the horse, wished Hans and the cow good morning, and away he rode. + +Hans brushed his coat, wiped his face and hands, rested a while, and +then drove off his cow quietly, and thought his bargain a very lucky +one. 'If I have only a piece of bread (and I certainly shall always be +able to get that), I can, whenever I like, eat my butter and cheese +with it; and when I am thirsty I can milk my cow and drink the milk: +and what can I wish for more?' When he came to an inn, he halted, ate +up all his bread, and gave away his last penny for a glass of beer. +When he had rested himself he set off again, driving his cow towards +his mother's village. But the heat grew greater as soon as noon came +on, till at last, as he found himself on a wide heath that would take +him more than an hour to cross, he began to be so hot and parched that +his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. 'I can find a cure for +this,' thought he; 'now I will milk my cow and quench my thirst': so +he tied her to the stump of a tree, and held his leathern cap to milk +into; but not a drop was to be had. Who would have thought that this +cow, which was to bring him milk and butter and cheese, was all that +time utterly dry? Hans had not thought of looking to that. + +While he was trying his luck in milking, and managing the matter very +clumsily, the uneasy beast began to think him very troublesome; and at +last gave him such a kick on the head as knocked him down; and there +he lay a long while senseless. Luckily a butcher soon came by, driving +a pig in a wheelbarrow. 'What is the matter with you, my man?' said +the butcher, as he helped him up. Hans told him what had happened, how +he was dry, and wanted to milk his cow, but found the cow was dry too. +Then the butcher gave him a flask of ale, saying, 'There, drink and +refresh yourself; your cow will give you no milk: don't you see she is +an old beast, good for nothing but the slaughter-house?' 'Alas, alas!' +said Hans, 'who would have thought it? What a shame to take my horse, +and give me only a dry cow! If I kill her, what will she be good for? +I hate cow-beef; it is not tender enough for me. If it were a pig now +--like that fat gentleman you are driving along at his ease--one could +do something with it; it would at any rate make sausages.' 'Well,' +said the butcher, 'I don't like to say no, when one is asked to do a +kind, neighbourly thing. To please you I will change, and give you my +fine fat pig for the cow.' 'Heaven reward you for your kindness and +self-denial!' said Hans, as he gave the butcher the cow; and taking +the pig off the wheel-barrow, drove it away, holding it by the string +that was tied to its leg. + +So on he jogged, and all seemed now to go right with him: he had met +with some misfortunes, to be sure; but he was now well repaid for all. +How could it be otherwise with such a travelling companion as he had +at last got? + +The next man he met was a countryman carrying a fine white goose. The +countryman stopped to ask what was o'clock; this led to further chat; +and Hans told him all his luck, how he had so many good bargains, and +how all the world went gay and smiling with him. The countryman than +began to tell his tale, and said he was going to take the goose to a +christening. 'Feel,' said he, 'how heavy it is, and yet it is only +eight weeks old. Whoever roasts and eats it will find plenty of fat +upon it, it has lived so well!' 'You're right,' said Hans, as he +weighed it in his hand; 'but if you talk of fat, my pig is no trifle.' +Meantime the countryman began to look grave, and shook his head. 'Hark +ye!' said he, 'my worthy friend, you seem a good sort of fellow, so I +can't help doing you a kind turn. Your pig may get you into a scrape. +In the village I just came from, the squire has had a pig stolen out +of his sty. I was dreadfully afraid when I saw you that you had got +the squire's pig. If you have, and they catch you, it will be a bad +job for you. The least they will do will be to throw you into the +horse-pond. Can you swim?' + +Poor Hans was sadly frightened. 'Good man,' cried he, 'pray get me out +of this scrape. I know nothing of where the pig was either bred or +born; but he may have been the squire's for aught I can tell: you know +this country better than I do, take my pig and give me the goose.' 'I +ought to have something into the bargain,' said the countryman; 'give +a fat goose for a pig, indeed! 'Tis not everyone would do so much for +you as that. However, I will not be hard upon you, as you are in +trouble.' Then he took the string in his hand, and drove off the pig +by a side path; while Hans went on the way homewards free from care. +'After all,' thought he, 'that chap is pretty well taken in. I don't +care whose pig it is, but wherever it came from it has been a very +good friend to me. I have much the best of the bargain. First there +will be a capital roast; then the fat will find me in goose-grease for +six months; and then there are all the beautiful white feathers. I +will put them into my pillow, and then I am sure I shall sleep soundly +without rocking. How happy my mother will be! Talk of a pig, indeed! +Give me a fine fat goose.' + +As he came to the next village, he saw a scissor-grinder with his +wheel, working and singing, + + 'O'er hill and o'er dale + So happy I roam, + Work light and live well, + All the world is my home; + Then who so blythe, so merry as I?' + +Hans stood looking on for a while, and at last said, 'You must be well +off, master grinder! you seem so happy at your work.' 'Yes,' said the +other, 'mine is a golden trade; a good grinder never puts his hand +into his pocket without finding money in it--but where did you get +that beautiful goose?' 'I did not buy it, I gave a pig for it.' 'And +where did you get the pig?' 'I gave a cow for it.' 'And the cow?' 'I +gave a horse for it.' 'And the horse?' 'I gave a lump of silver as big +as my head for it.' 'And the silver?' 'Oh! I worked hard for that +seven long years.' 'You have thriven well in the world hitherto,' said +the grinder, 'now if you could find money in your pocket whenever you +put your hand in it, your fortune would be made.' 'Very true: but how +is that to be managed?' 'How? Why, you must turn grinder like myself,' +said the other; 'you only want a grindstone; the rest will come of +itself. Here is one that is but little the worse for wear: I would not +ask more than the value of your goose for it--will you buy?' 'How can +you ask?' said Hans; 'I should be the happiest man in the world, if I +could have money whenever I put my hand in my pocket: what could I +want more? there's the goose.' 'Now,' said the grinder, as he gave him +a common rough stone that lay by his side, 'this is a most capital +stone; do but work it well enough, and you can make an old nail cut +with it.' + +Hans took the stone, and went his way with a light heart: his eyes +sparkled for joy, and he said to himself, 'Surely I must have been +born in a lucky hour; everything I could want or wish for comes of +itself. People are so kind; they seem really to think I do them a +favour in letting them make me rich, and giving me good bargains.' + +Meantime he began to be tired, and hungry too, for he had given away +his last penny in his joy at getting the cow. + +At last he could go no farther, for the stone tired him sadly: and he +dragged himself to the side of a river, that he might take a drink of +water, and rest a while. So he laid the stone carefully by his side on +the bank: but, as he stooped down to drink, he forgot it, pushed it a +little, and down it rolled, plump into the stream. + +For a while he watched it sinking in the deep clear water; then sprang +up and danced for joy, and again fell upon his knees and thanked +Heaven, with tears in his eyes, for its kindness in taking away his +only plague, the ugly heavy stone. + +'How happy am I!' cried he; 'nobody was ever so lucky as I.' Then up +he got with a light heart, free from all his troubles, and walked on +till he reached his mother's house, and told her how very easy the +road to good luck was. + + + +JORINDA AND JORINDEL + +There was once an old castle, that stood in the middle of a deep +gloomy wood, and in the castle lived an old fairy. Now this fairy +could take any shape she pleased. All the day long she flew about in +the form of an owl, or crept about the country like a cat; but at +night she always became an old woman again. When any young man came +within a hundred paces of her castle, he became quite fixed, and could +not move a step till she came and set him free; which she would not do +till he had given her his word never to come there again: but when any +pretty maiden came within that space she was changed into a bird, and +the fairy put her into a cage, and hung her up in a chamber in the +castle. There were seven hundred of these cages hanging in the castle, +and all with beautiful birds in them. + +Now there was once a maiden whose name was Jorinda. She was prettier +than all the pretty girls that ever were seen before, and a shepherd +lad, whose name was Jorindel, was very fond of her, and they were soon +to be married. One day they went to walk in the wood, that they might +be alone; and Jorindel said, 'We must take care that we don't go too +near to the fairy's castle.' It was a beautiful evening; the last rays +of the setting sun shone bright through the long stems of the trees +upon the green underwood beneath, and the turtle-doves sang from the +tall birches. + +Jorinda sat down to gaze upon the sun; Jorindel sat by her side; and +both felt sad, they knew not why; but it seemed as if they were to be +parted from one another for ever. They had wandered a long way; and +when they looked to see which way they should go home, they found +themselves at a loss to know what path to take. + +The sun was setting fast, and already half of its circle had sunk +behind the hill: Jorindel on a sudden looked behind him, and saw +through the bushes that they had, without knowing it, sat down close +under the old walls of the castle. Then he shrank for fear, turned +pale, and trembled. Jorinda was just singing, + + 'The ring-dove sang from the willow spray, + Well-a-day! Well-a-day! + He mourn'd for the fate of his darling mate, + Well-a-day!' + +when her song stopped suddenly. Jorindel turned to see the reason, and +beheld his Jorinda changed into a nightingale, so that her song ended +with a mournful /jug, jug/. An owl with fiery eyes flew three times +round them, and three times screamed: + + 'Tu whu! Tu whu! Tu whu!' + +Jorindel could not move; he stood fixed as a stone, and could neither +weep, nor speak, nor stir hand or foot. And now the sun went quite +down; the gloomy night came; the owl flew into a bush; and a moment +after the old fairy came forth pale and meagre, with staring eyes, and +a nose and chin that almost met one another. + +She mumbled something to herself, seized the nightingale, and went +away with it in her hand. Poor Jorindel saw the nightingale was gone-- +but what could he do? He could not speak, he could not move from the +spot where he stood. At last the fairy came back and sang with a +hoarse voice: + + 'Till the prisoner is fast, + And her doom is cast, + There stay! Oh, stay! + When the charm is around her, + And the spell has bound her, + Hie away! away!' + +On a sudden Jorindel found himself free. Then he fell on his knees +before the fairy, and prayed her to give him back his dear Jorinda: +but she laughed at him, and said he should never see her again; then +she went her way. + +He prayed, he wept, he sorrowed, but all in vain. 'Alas!' he said, +'what will become of me?' He could not go back to his own home, so he +went to a strange village, and employed himself in keeping sheep. Many +a time did he walk round and round as near to the hated castle as he +dared go, but all in vain; he heard or saw nothing of Jorinda. + +At last he dreamt one night that he found a beautiful purple flower, +and that in the middle of it lay a costly pearl; and he dreamt that he +plucked the flower, and went with it in his hand into the castle, and +that everything he touched with it was disenchanted, and that there he +found his Jorinda again. + +In the morning when he awoke, he began to search over hill and dale +for this pretty flower; and eight long days he sought for it in vain: +but on the ninth day, early in the morning, he found the beautiful +purple flower; and in the middle of it was a large dewdrop, as big as +a costly pearl. Then he plucked the flower, and set out and travelled +day and night, till he came again to the castle. + +He walked nearer than a hundred paces to it, and yet he did not become +fixed as before, but found that he could go quite close up to the +door. Jorindel was very glad indeed to see this. Then he touched the +door with the flower, and it sprang open; so that he went in through +the court, and listened when he heard so many birds singing. At last +he came to the chamber where the fairy sat, with the seven hundred +birds singing in the seven hundred cages. When she saw Jorindel she +was very angry, and screamed with rage; but she could not come within +two yards of him, for the flower he held in his hand was his +safeguard. He looked around at the birds, but alas! there were many, +many nightingales, and how then should he find out which was his +Jorinda? While he was thinking what to do, he saw the fairy had taken +down one of the cages, and was making the best of her way off through +the door. He ran or flew after her, touched the cage with the flower, +and Jorinda stood before him, and threw her arms round his neck +looking as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as when they walked +together in the wood. + +Then he touched all the other birds with the flower, so that they all +took their old forms again; and he took Jorinda home, where they were +married, and lived happily together many years: and so did a good many +other lads, whose maidens had been forced to sing in the old fairy's +cages by themselves, much longer than they liked. + + + +THE TRAVELLING MUSICIANS + +An honest farmer had once an ass that had been a faithful servant to +him a great many years, but was now growing old and every day more and +more unfit for work. His master therefore was tired of keeping him and +began to think of putting an end to him; but the ass, who saw that +some mischief was in the wind, took himself slyly off, and began his +journey towards the great city, 'For there,' thought he, 'I may turn +musician.' + +After he had travelled a little way, he spied a dog lying by the +roadside and panting as if he were tired. 'What makes you pant so, my +friend?' said the ass. 'Alas!' said the dog, 'my master was going to +knock me on the head, because I am old and weak, and can no longer +make myself useful to him in hunting; so I ran away; but what can I do +to earn my livelihood?' 'Hark ye!' said the ass, 'I am going to the +great city to turn musician: suppose you go with me, and try what you +can do in the same way?' The dog said he was willing, and they jogged +on together. + +They had not gone far before they saw a cat sitting in the middle of +the road and making a most rueful face. 'Pray, my good lady,' said the +ass, 'what's the matter with you? You look quite out of spirits!' 'Ah, +me!' said the cat, 'how can one be in good spirits when one's life is +in danger? Because I am beginning to grow old, and had rather lie at +my ease by the fire than run about the house after the mice, my +mistress laid hold of me, and was going to drown me; and though I have +been lucky enough to get away from her, I do not know what I am to +live upon.' 'Oh,' said the ass, 'by all means go with us to the great +city; you are a good night singer, and may make your fortune as a +musician.' The cat was pleased with the thought, and joined the party. + +Soon afterwards, as they were passing by a farmyard, they saw a cock +perched upon a gate, and screaming out with all his might and main. +'Bravo!' said the ass; 'upon my word, you make a famous noise; pray +what is all this about?' 'Why,' said the cock, 'I was just now saying +that we should have fine weather for our washing-day, and yet my +mistress and the cook don't thank me for my pains, but threaten to cut +off my head tomorrow, and make broth of me for the guests that are +coming on Sunday!' 'Heaven forbid!' said the ass, 'come with us Master +Chanticleer; it will be better, at any rate, than staying here to have +your head cut off! Besides, who knows? If we care to sing in tune, we +may get up some kind of a concert; so come along with us.' 'With all +my heart,' said the cock: so they all four went on jollily together. + +They could not, however, reach the great city the first day; so when +night came on, they went into a wood to sleep. The ass and the dog +laid themselves down under a great tree, and the cat climbed up into +the branches; while the cock, thinking that the higher he sat the +safer he should be, flew up to the very top of the tree, and then, +according to his custom, before he went to sleep, looked out on all +sides of him to see that everything was well. In doing this, he saw +afar off something bright and shining and calling to his companions +said, 'There must be a house no great way off, for I see a light.' 'If +that be the case,' said the ass, 'we had better change our quarters, +for our lodging is not the best in the world!' 'Besides,' added the +dog, 'I should not be the worse for a bone or two, or a bit of meat.' +So they walked off together towards the spot where Chanticleer had +seen the light, and as they drew near it became larger and brighter, +till they at last came close to a house in which a gang of robbers +lived. + +The ass, being the tallest of the company, marched up to the window +and peeped in. 'Well, Donkey,' said Chanticleer, 'what do you see?' +'What do I see?' replied the ass. 'Why, I see a table spread with all +kinds of good things, and robbers sitting round it making merry.' +'That would be a noble lodging for us,' said the cock. 'Yes,' said the +ass, 'if we could only get in'; so they consulted together how they +should contrive to get the robbers out; and at last they hit upon a +plan. The ass placed himself upright on his hind legs, with his +forefeet resting against the window; the dog got upon his back; the +cat scrambled up to the dog's shoulders, and the cock flew up and sat +upon the cat's head. When all was ready a signal was given, and they +began their music. The ass brayed, the dog barked, the cat mewed, and +the cock screamed; and then they all broke through the window at once, +and came tumbling into the room, amongst the broken glass, with a most +hideous clatter! The robbers, who had been not a little frightened by +the opening concert, had now no doubt that some frightful hobgoblin +had broken in upon them, and scampered away as fast as they could. + +The coast once clear, our travellers soon sat down and dispatched what +the robbers had left, with as much eagerness as if they had not +expected to eat again for a month. As soon as they had satisfied +themselves, they put out the lights, and each once more sought out a +resting-place to his own liking. The donkey laid himself down upon a +heap of straw in the yard, the dog stretched himself upon a mat behind +the door, the cat rolled herself up on the hearth before the warm +ashes, and the cock perched upon a beam on the top of the house; and, +as they were all rather tired with their journey, they soon fell +asleep. + +But about midnight, when the robbers saw from afar that the lights +were out and that all seemed quiet, they began to think that they had +been in too great a hurry to run away; and one of them, who was bolder +than the rest, went to see what was going on. Finding everything +still, he marched into the kitchen, and groped about till he found a +match in order to light a candle; and then, espying the glittering +fiery eyes of the cat, he mistook them for live coals, and held the +match to them to light it. But the cat, not understanding this joke, +sprang at his face, and spat, and scratched at him. This frightened +him dreadfully, and away he ran to the back door; but there the dog +jumped up and bit him in the leg; and as he was crossing over the yard +the ass kicked him; and the cock, who had been awakened by the noise, +crowed with all his might. At this the robber ran back as fast as he +could to his comrades, and told the captain how a horrid witch had got +into the house, and had spat at him and scratched his face with her +long bony fingers; how a man with a knife in his hand had hidden +himself behind the door, and stabbed him in the leg; how a black +monster stood in the yard and struck him with a club, and how the +devil had sat upon the top of the house and cried out, 'Throw the +rascal up here!' After this the robbers never dared to go back to the +house; but the musicians were so pleased with their quarters that they +took up their abode there; and there they are, I dare say, at this +very day. + + + +OLD SULTAN + +A shepherd had a faithful dog, called Sultan, who was grown very old, +and had lost all his teeth. And one day when the shepherd and his wife +were standing together before the house the shepherd said, 'I will +shoot old Sultan tomorrow morning, for he is of no use now.' But his +wife said, 'Pray let the poor faithful creature live; he has served us +well a great many years, and we ought to give him a livelihood for the +rest of his days.' 'But what can we do with him?' said the shepherd, +'he has not a tooth in his head, and the thieves don't care for him at +all; to be sure he has served us, but then he did it to earn his +livelihood; tomorrow shall be his last day, depend upon it.' + +Poor Sultan, who was lying close by them, heard all that the shepherd +and his wife said to one another, and was very much frightened to +think tomorrow would be his last day; so in the evening he went to his +good friend the wolf, who lived in the wood, and told him all his +sorrows, and how his master meant to kill him in the morning. 'Make +yourself easy,' said the wolf, 'I will give you some good advice. Your +master, you know, goes out every morning very early with his wife into +the field; and they take their little child with them, and lay it down +behind the hedge in the shade while they are at work. Now do you lie +down close by the child, and pretend to be watching it, and I will +come out of the wood and run away with it; you must run after me as +fast as you can, and I will let it drop; then you may carry it back, +and they will think you have saved their child, and will be so +thankful to you that they will take care of you as long as you live.' +The dog liked this plan very well; and accordingly so it was managed. +The wolf ran with the child a little way; the shepherd and his wife +screamed out; but Sultan soon overtook him, and carried the poor +little thing back to his master and mistress. Then the shepherd patted +him on the head, and said, 'Old Sultan has saved our child from the +wolf, and therefore he shall live and be well taken care of, and have +plenty to eat. Wife, go home, and give him a good dinner, and let him +have my old cushion to sleep on as long as he lives.' So from this +time forward Sultan had all that he could wish for. + +Soon afterwards the wolf came and wished him joy, and said, 'Now, my +good fellow, you must tell no tales, but turn your head the other way +when I want to taste one of the old shepherd's fine fat sheep.' 'No,' +said the Sultan; 'I will be true to my master.' However, the wolf +thought he was in joke, and came one night to get a dainty morsel. But +Sultan had told his master what the wolf meant to do; so he laid wait +for him behind the barn door, and when the wolf was busy looking out +for a good fat sheep, he had a stout cudgel laid about his back, that +combed his locks for him finely. + +Then the wolf was very angry, and called Sultan 'an old rogue,' and +swore he would have his revenge. So the next morning the wolf sent the +boar to challenge Sultan to come into the wood to fight the matter. +Now Sultan had nobody he could ask to be his second but the shepherd's +old three-legged cat; so he took her with him, and as the poor thing +limped along with some trouble, she stuck up her tail straight in the +air. + +The wolf and the wild boar were first on the ground; and when they +espied their enemies coming, and saw the cat's long tail standing +straight in the air, they thought she was carrying a sword for Sultan +to fight with; and every time she limped, they thought she was picking +up a stone to throw at them; so they said they should not like this +way of fighting, and the boar lay down behind a bush, and the wolf +jumped up into a tree. Sultan and the cat soon came up, and looked +about and wondered that no one was there. The boar, however, had not +quite hidden himself, for his ears stuck out of the bush; and when he +shook one of them a little, the cat, seeing something move, and +thinking it was a mouse, sprang upon it, and bit and scratched it, so +that the boar jumped up and grunted, and ran away, roaring out, 'Look +up in the tree, there sits the one who is to blame.' So they looked +up, and espied the wolf sitting amongst the branches; and they called +him a cowardly rascal, and would not suffer him to come down till he +was heartily ashamed of himself, and had promised to be good friends +again with old Sultan. + + + +THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN + +In a village dwelt a poor old woman, who had gathered together a dish +of beans and wanted to cook them. So she made a fire on her hearth, +and that it might burn the quicker, she lighted it with a handful of +straw. When she was emptying the beans into the pan, one dropped +without her observing it, and lay on the ground beside a straw, and +soon afterwards a burning coal from the fire leapt down to the two. +Then the straw began and said: 'Dear friends, from whence do you come +here?' The coal replied: 'I fortunately sprang out of the fire, and if +I had not escaped by sheer force, my death would have been certain,--I +should have been burnt to ashes.' The bean said: 'I too have escaped +with a whole skin, but if the old woman had got me into the pan, I +should have been made into broth without any mercy, like my comrades.' +'And would a better fate have fallen to my lot?' said the straw. 'The +old woman has destroyed all my brethren in fire and smoke; she seized +sixty of them at once, and took their lives. I luckily slipped through +her fingers.' + +'But what are we to do now?' said the coal. + +'I think,' answered the bean, 'that as we have so fortunately escaped +death, we should keep together like good companions, and lest a new +mischance should overtake us here, we should go away together, and +repair to a foreign country.' + +The proposition pleased the two others, and they set out on their way +together. Soon, however, they came to a little brook, and as there was +no bridge or foot-plank, they did not know how they were to get over +it. The straw hit on a good idea, and said: 'I will lay myself +straight across, and then you can walk over on me as on a bridge.' The +straw therefore stretched itself from one bank to the other, and the +coal, who was of an impetuous disposition, tripped quite boldly on to +the newly-built bridge. But when she had reached the middle, and heard +the water rushing beneath her, she was after all, afraid, and stood +still, and ventured no farther. The straw, however, began to burn, +broke in two pieces, and fell into the stream. The coal slipped after +her, hissed when she got into the water, and breathed her last. The +bean, who had prudently stayed behind on the shore, could not but +laugh at the event, was unable to stop, and laughed so heartily that +she burst. It would have been all over with her, likewise, if, by good +fortune, a tailor who was travelling in search of work, had not sat +down to rest by the brook. As he had a compassionate heart he pulled +out his needle and thread, and sewed her together. The bean thanked +him most prettily, but as the tailor used black thread, all beans +since then have a black seam. + + + +BRIAR ROSE + +A king and queen once upon a time reigned in a country a great way +off, where there were in those days fairies. Now this king and queen +had plenty of money, and plenty of fine clothes to wear, and plenty of +good things to eat and drink, and a coach to ride out in every day: +but though they had been married many years they had no children, and +this grieved them very much indeed. But one day as the queen was +walking by the side of the river, at the bottom of the garden, she saw +a poor little fish, that had thrown itself out of the water, and lay +gasping and nearly dead on the bank. Then the queen took pity on the +little fish, and threw it back again into the river; and before it +swam away it lifted its head out of the water and said, 'I know what +your wish is, and it shall be fulfilled, in return for your kindness +to me--you will soon have a daughter.' What the little fish had +foretold soon came to pass; and the queen had a little girl, so very +beautiful that the king could not cease looking on it for joy, and +said he would hold a great feast and make merry, and show the child to +all the land. So he asked his kinsmen, and nobles, and friends, and +neighbours. But the queen said, 'I will have the fairies also, that +they might be kind and good to our little daughter.' Now there were +thirteen fairies in the kingdom; but as the king and queen had only +twelve golden dishes for them to eat out of, they were forced to leave +one of the fairies without asking her. So twelve fairies came, each +with a high red cap on her head, and red shoes with high heels on her +feet, and a long white wand in her hand: and after the feast was over +they gathered round in a ring and gave all their best gifts to the +little princess. One gave her goodness, another beauty, another +riches, and so on till she had all that was good in the world. + +Just as eleven of them had done blessing her, a great noise was heard +in the courtyard, and word was brought that the thirteenth fairy was +come, with a black cap on her head, and black shoes on her feet, and a +broomstick in her hand: and presently up she came into the dining- +hall. Now, as she had not been asked to the feast she was very angry, +and scolded the king and queen very much, and set to work to take her +revenge. So she cried out, 'The king's daughter shall, in her +fifteenth year, be wounded by a spindle, and fall down dead.' Then the +twelfth of the friendly fairies, who had not yet given her gift, came +forward, and said that the evil wish must be fulfilled, but that she +could soften its mischief; so her gift was, that the king's daughter, +when the spindle wounded her, should not really die, but should only +fall asleep for a hundred years. + +However, the king hoped still to save his dear child altogether from +the threatened evil; so he ordered that all the spindles in the +kingdom should be bought up and burnt. But all the gifts of the first +eleven fairies were in the meantime fulfilled; for the princess was so +beautiful, and well behaved, and good, and wise, that everyone who +knew her loved her. + +It happened that, on the very day she was fifteen years old, the king +and queen were not at home, and she was left alone in the palace. So +she roved about by herself, and looked at all the rooms and chambers, +till at last she came to an old tower, to which there was a narrow +staircase ending with a little door. In the door there was a golden +key, and when she turned it the door sprang open, and there sat an old +lady spinning away very busily. 'Why, how now, good mother,' said the +princess; 'what are you doing there?' 'Spinning,' said the old lady, +and nodded her head, humming a tune, while buzz! went the wheel. 'How +prettily that little thing turns round!' said the princess, and took +the spindle and began to try and spin. But scarcely had she touched +it, before the fairy's prophecy was fulfilled; the spindle wounded +her, and she fell down lifeless on the ground. + +However, she was not dead, but had only fallen into a deep sleep; and +the king and the queen, who had just come home, and all their court, +fell asleep too; and the horses slept in the stables, and the dogs in +the court, the pigeons on the house-top, and the very flies slept upon +the walls. Even the fire on the hearth left off blazing, and went to +sleep; the jack stopped, and the spit that was turning about with a +goose upon it for the king's dinner stood still; and the cook, who was +at that moment pulling the kitchen-boy by the hair to give him a box +on the ear for something he had done amiss, let him go, and both fell +asleep; the butler, who was slyly tasting the ale, fell asleep with +the jug at his lips: and thus everything stood still, and slept +soundly. + +A large hedge of thorns soon grew round the palace, and every year it +became higher and thicker; till at last the old palace was surrounded +and hidden, so that not even the roof or the chimneys could be seen. +But there went a report through all the land of the beautiful sleeping +Briar Rose (for so the king's daughter was called): so that, from time +to time, several kings' sons came, and tried to break through the +thicket into the palace. This, however, none of them could ever do; +for the thorns and bushes laid hold of them, as it were with hands; +and there they stuck fast, and died wretchedly. + +After many, many years there came a king's son into that land: and an +old man told him the story of the thicket of thorns; and how a +beautiful palace stood behind it, and how a wonderful princess, called +Briar Rose, lay in it asleep, with all her court. He told, too, how he +had heard from his grandfather that many, many princes had come, and +had tried to break through the thicket, but that they had all stuck +fast in it, and died. Then the young prince said, 'All this shall not +frighten me; I will go and see this Briar Rose.' The old man tried to +hinder him, but he was bent upon going. + +Now that very day the hundred years were ended; and as the prince came +to the thicket he saw nothing but beautiful flowering shrubs, through +which he went with ease, and they shut in after him as thick as ever. +Then he came at last to the palace, and there in the court lay the +dogs asleep; and the horses were standing in the stables; and on the +roof sat the pigeons fast asleep, with their heads under their wings. +And when he came into the palace, the flies were sleeping on the +walls; the spit was standing still; the butler had the jug of ale at +his lips, going to drink a draught; the maid sat with a fowl in her +lap ready to be plucked; and the cook in the kitchen was still holding +up her hand, as if she was going to beat the boy. + +Then he went on still farther, and all was so still that he could hear +every breath he drew; till at last he came to the old tower, and +opened the door of the little room in which Briar Rose was; and there +she lay, fast asleep on a couch by the window. She looked so beautiful +that he could not take his eyes off her, so he stooped down and gave +her a kiss. But the moment he kissed her she opened her eyes and +awoke, and smiled upon him; and they went out together; and soon the +king and queen also awoke, and all the court, and gazed on each other +with great wonder. And the horses shook themselves, and the dogs +jumped up and barked; the pigeons took their heads from under their +wings, and looked about and flew into the fields; the flies on the +walls buzzed again; the fire in the kitchen blazed up; round went the +jack, and round went the spit, with the goose for the king's dinner +upon it; the butler finished his draught of ale; the maid went on +plucking the fowl; and the cook gave the boy the box on his ear. + +And then the prince and Briar Rose were married, and the wedding feast +was given; and they lived happily together all their lives long. + + + +THE DOG AND THE SPARROW + +A shepherd's dog had a master who took no care of him, but often let +him suffer the greatest hunger. At last he could bear it no longer; so +he took to his heels, and off he ran in a very sad and sorrowful mood. +On the road he met a sparrow that said to him, 'Why are you so sad, my +friend?' 'Because,' said the dog, 'I am very very hungry, and have +nothing to eat.' 'If that be all,' answered the sparrow, 'come with me +into the next town, and I will soon find you plenty of food.' So on +they went together into the town: and as they passed by a butcher's +shop, the sparrow said to the dog, 'Stand there a little while till I +peck you down a piece of meat.' So the sparrow perched upon the shelf: +and having first looked carefully about her to see if anyone was +watching her, she pecked and scratched at a steak that lay upon the +edge of the shelf, till at last down it fell. Then the dog snapped it +up, and scrambled away with it into a corner, where he soon ate it all +up. 'Well,' said the sparrow, 'you shall have some more if you will; +so come with me to the next shop, and I will peck you down another +steak.' When the dog had eaten this too, the sparrow said to him, +'Well, my good friend, have you had enough now?' 'I have had plenty of +meat,' answered he, 'but I should like to have a piece of bread to eat +after it.' 'Come with me then,' said the sparrow, 'and you shall soon +have that too.' So she took him to a baker's shop, and pecked at two +rolls that lay in the window, till they fell down: and as the dog +still wished for more, she took him to another shop and pecked down +some more for him. When that was eaten, the sparrow asked him whether +he had had enough now. 'Yes,' said he; 'and now let us take a walk a +little way out of the town.' So they both went out upon the high road; +but as the weather was warm, they had not gone far before the dog +said, 'I am very much tired--I should like to take a nap.' 'Very +well,' answered the sparrow, 'do so, and in the meantime I will perch +upon that bush.' So the dog stretched himself out on the road, and +fell fast asleep. Whilst he slept, there came by a carter with a cart +drawn by three horses, and loaded with two casks of wine. The sparrow, +seeing that the carter did not turn out of the way, but would go on in +the track in which the dog lay, so as to drive over him, called out, +'Stop! stop! Mr Carter, or it shall be the worse for you.' But the +carter, grumbling to himself, 'You make it the worse for me, indeed! +what can you do?' cracked his whip, and drove his cart over the poor +dog, so that the wheels crushed him to death. 'There,' cried the +sparrow, 'thou cruel villain, thou hast killed my friend the dog. Now +mind what I say. This deed of thine shall cost thee all thou art +worth.' 'Do your worst, and welcome,' said the brute, 'what harm can +you do me?' and passed on. But the sparrow crept under the tilt of the +cart, and pecked at the bung of one of the casks till she loosened it; +and than all the wine ran out, without the carter seeing it. At last +he looked round, and saw that the cart was dripping, and the cask +quite empty. 'What an unlucky wretch I am!' cried he. 'Not wretch +enough yet!' said the sparrow, as she alighted upon the head of one of +the horses, and pecked at him till he reared up and kicked. When the +carter saw this, he drew out his hatchet and aimed a blow at the +sparrow, meaning to kill her; but she flew away, and the blow fell +upon the poor horse's head with such force, that he fell down dead. +'Unlucky wretch that I am!' cried he. 'Not wretch enough yet!' said +the sparrow. And as the carter went on with the other two horses, she +again crept under the tilt of the cart, and pecked out the bung of the +second cask, so that all the wine ran out. When the carter saw this, +he again cried out, 'Miserable wretch that I am!' But the sparrow +answered, 'Not wretch enough yet!' and perched on the head of the +second horse, and pecked at him too. The carter ran up and struck at +her again with his hatchet; but away she flew, and the blow fell upon +the second horse and killed him on the spot. 'Unlucky wretch that I +am!' said he. 'Not wretch enough yet!' said the sparrow; and perching +upon the third horse, she began to peck him too. The carter was mad +with fury; and without looking about him, or caring what he was about, +struck again at the sparrow; but killed his third horse as he done the +other two. 'Alas! miserable wretch that I am!' cried he. 'Not wretch +enough yet!' answered the sparrow as she flew away; 'now will I plague +and punish thee at thy own house.' The carter was forced at last to +leave his cart behind him, and to go home overflowing with rage and +vexation. 'Alas!' said he to his wife, 'what ill luck has befallen me! +--my wine is all spilt, and my horses all three dead.' 'Alas! +husband,' replied she, 'and a wicked bird has come into the house, and +has brought with her all the birds in the world, I am sure, and they +have fallen upon our corn in the loft, and are eating it up at such a +rate!' Away ran the husband upstairs, and saw thousands of birds +sitting upon the floor eating up his corn, with the sparrow in the +midst of them. 'Unlucky wretch that I am!' cried the carter; for he +saw that the corn was almost all gone. 'Not wretch enough yet!' said +the sparrow; 'thy cruelty shall cost thee they life yet!' and away she +flew. + +The carter seeing that he had thus lost all that he had, went down +into his kitchen; and was still not sorry for what he had done, but +sat himself angrily and sulkily in the chimney corner. But the sparrow +sat on the outside of the window, and cried 'Carter! thy cruelty shall +cost thee thy life!' With that he jumped up in a rage, seized his +hatchet, and threw it at the sparrow; but it missed her, and only +broke the window. The sparrow now hopped in, perched upon the window- +seat, and cried, 'Carter! it shall cost thee thy life!' Then he became +mad and blind with rage, and struck the window-seat with such force +that he cleft it in two: and as the sparrow flew from place to place, +the carter and his wife were so furious, that they broke all their +furniture, glasses, chairs, benches, the table, and at last the walls, +without touching the bird at all. In the end, however, they caught +her: and the wife said, 'Shall I kill her at once?' 'No,' cried he, +'that is letting her off too easily: she shall die a much more cruel +death; I will eat her.' But the sparrow began to flutter about, and +stretch out her neck and cried, 'Carter! it shall cost thee thy life +yet!' With that he could wait no longer: so he gave his wife the +hatchet, and cried, 'Wife, strike at the bird and kill her in my +hand.' And the wife struck; but she missed her aim, and hit her +husband on the head so that he fell down dead, and the sparrow flew +quietly home to her nest. + + + +THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES + +There was a king who had twelve beautiful daughters. They slept in +twelve beds all in one room; and when they went to bed, the doors were +shut and locked up; but every morning their shoes were found to be +quite worn through as if they had been danced in all night; and yet +nobody could find out how it happened, or where they had been. + +Then the king made it known to all the land, that if any person could +discover the secret, and find out where it was that the princesses +danced in the night, he should have the one he liked best for his +wife, and should be king after his death; but whoever tried and did +not succeed, after three days and nights, should be put to death. + +A king's son soon came. He was well entertained, and in the evening +was taken to the chamber next to the one where the princesses lay in +their twelve beds. There he was to sit and watch where they went to +dance; and, in order that nothing might pass without his hearing it, +the door of his chamber was left open. But the king's son soon fell +asleep; and when he awoke in the morning he found that the princesses +had all been dancing, for the soles of their shoes were full of holes. +The same thing happened the second and third night: so the king +ordered his head to be cut off. After him came several others; but +they had all the same luck, and all lost their lives in the same +manner. + +Now it chanced that an old soldier, who had been wounded in battle and +could fight no longer, passed through the country where this king +reigned: and as he was travelling through a wood, he met an old woman, +who asked him where he was going. 'I hardly know where I am going, or +what I had better do,' said the soldier; 'but I think I should like +very well to find out where it is that the princesses dance, and then +in time I might be a king.' 'Well,' said the old dame, 'that is no +very hard task: only take care not to drink any of the wine which one +of the princesses will bring to you in the evening; and as soon as she +leaves you pretend to be fast asleep.' + +Then she gave him a cloak, and said, 'As soon as you put that on you +will become invisible, and you will then be able to follow the +princesses wherever they go.' When the soldier heard all this good +counsel, he determined to try his luck: so he went to the king, and +said he was willing to undertake the task. + +He was as well received as the others had been, and the king ordered +fine royal robes to be given him; and when the evening came he was led +to the outer chamber. Just as he was going to lie down, the eldest of +the princesses brought him a cup of wine; but the soldier threw it all +away secretly, taking care not to drink a drop. Then he laid himself +down on his bed, and in a little while began to snore very loud as if +he was fast asleep. When the twelve princesses heard this they laughed +heartily; and the eldest said, 'This fellow too might have done a +wiser thing than lose his life in this way!' Then they rose up and +opened their drawers and boxes, and took out all their fine clothes, +and dressed themselves at the glass, and skipped about as if they were +eager to begin dancing. But the youngest said, 'I don't know how it +is, while you are so happy I feel very uneasy; I am sure some +mischance will befall us.' 'You simpleton,' said the eldest, 'you are +always afraid; have you forgotten how many kings' sons have already +watched in vain? And as for this soldier, even if I had not given him +his sleeping draught, he would have slept soundly enough.' + +When they were all ready, they went and looked at the soldier; but he +snored on, and did not stir hand or foot: so they thought they were +quite safe; and the eldest went up to her own bed and clapped her +hands, and the bed sank into the floor and a trap-door flew open. The +soldier saw them going down through the trap-door one after another, +the eldest leading the way; and thinking he had no time to lose, he +jumped up, put on the cloak which the old woman had given him, and +followed them; but in the middle of the stairs he trod on the gown of +the youngest princess, and she cried out to her sisters, 'All is not +right; someone took hold of my gown.' 'You silly creature!' said the +eldest, 'it is nothing but a nail in the wall.' Then down they all +went, and at the bottom they found themselves in a most delightful +grove of trees; and the leaves were all of silver, and glittered and +sparkled beautifully. The soldier wished to take away some token of +the place; so he broke off a little branch, and there came a loud +noise from the tree. Then the youngest daughter said again, 'I am sure +all is not right--did not you hear that noise? That never happened +before.' But the eldest said, 'It is only our princes, who are +shouting for joy at our approach.' + +Then they came to another grove of trees, where all the leaves were of +gold; and afterwards to a third, where the leaves were all glittering +diamonds. And the soldier broke a branch from each; and every time +there was a loud noise, which made the youngest sister tremble with +fear; but the eldest still said, it was only the princes, who were +crying for joy. So they went on till they came to a great lake; and at +the side of the lake there lay twelve little boats with twelve +handsome princes in them, who seemed to be waiting there for the +princesses. + +One of the princesses went into each boat, and the soldier stepped +into the same boat with the youngest. As they were rowing over the +lake, the prince who was in the boat with the youngest princess and +the soldier said, 'I do not know why it is, but though I am rowing +with all my might we do not get on so fast as usual, and I am quite +tired: the boat seems very heavy today.' 'It is only the heat of the +weather,' said the princess: 'I feel it very warm too.' + +On the other side of the lake stood a fine illuminated castle, from +which came the merry music of horns and trumpets. There they all +landed, and went into the castle, and each prince danced with his +princess; and the soldier, who was all the time invisible, danced with +them too; and when any of the princesses had a cup of wine set by her, +he drank it all up, so that when she put the cup to her mouth it was +empty. At this, too, the youngest sister was terribly frightened, but +the eldest always silenced her. They danced on till three o'clock in +the morning, and then all their shoes were worn out, so that they were +obliged to leave off. The princes rowed them back again over the lake +(but this time the soldier placed himself in the boat with the eldest +princess); and on the opposite shore they took leave of each other, +the princesses promising to come again the next night. + +When they came to the stairs, the soldier ran on before the +princesses, and laid himself down; and as the twelve sisters slowly +came up very much tired, they heard him snoring in his bed; so they +said, 'Now all is quite safe'; then they undressed themselves, put +away their fine clothes, pulled off their shoes, and went to bed. In +the morning the soldier said nothing about what had happened, but +determined to see more of this strange adventure, and went again the +second and third night; and every thing happened just as before; the +princesses danced each time till their shoes were worn to pieces, and +then returned home. However, on the third night the soldier carried +away one of the golden cups as a token of where he had been. + +As soon as the time came when he was to declare the secret, he was +taken before the king with the three branches and the golden cup; and +the twelve princesses stood listening behind the door to hear what he +would say. And when the king asked him. 'Where do my twelve daughters +dance at night?' he answered, 'With twelve princes in a castle under +ground.' And then he told the king all that had happened, and showed +him the three branches and the golden cup which he had brought with +him. Then the king called for the princesses, and asked them whether +what the soldier said was true: and when they saw that they were +discovered, and that it was of no use to deny what had happened, they +confessed it all. And the king asked the soldier which of them he +would choose for his wife; and he answered, 'I am not very young, so I +will have the eldest.'--And they were married that very day, and the +soldier was chosen to be the king's heir. + + + +THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE + +There was once a fisherman who lived with his wife in a pigsty, close +by the seaside. The fisherman used to go out all day long a-fishing; +and one day, as he sat on the shore with his rod, looking at the +sparkling waves and watching his line, all on a sudden his float was +dragged away deep into the water: and in drawing it up he pulled out a +great fish. But the fish said, 'Pray let me live! I am not a real +fish; I am an enchanted prince: put me in the water again, and let me +go!' 'Oh, ho!' said the man, 'you need not make so many words about +the matter; I will have nothing to do with a fish that can talk: so +swim away, sir, as soon as you please!' Then he put him back into the +water, and the fish darted straight down to the bottom, and left a +long streak of blood behind him on the wave. + +When the fisherman went home to his wife in the pigsty, he told her +how he had caught a great fish, and how it had told him it was an +enchanted prince, and how, on hearing it speak, he had let it go +again. 'Did not you ask it for anything?' said the wife, 'we live very +wretchedly here, in this nasty dirty pigsty; do go back and tell the +fish we want a snug little cottage.' + +The fisherman did not much like the business: however, he went to the +seashore; and when he came back there the water looked all yellow and +green. And he stood at the water's edge, and said: + + 'O man of the sea! + Hearken to me! + My wife Ilsabill + Will have her own will, + And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!' + +Then the fish came swimming to him, and said, 'Well, what is her will? +What does your wife want?' 'Ah!' said the fisherman, 'she says that +when I had caught you, I ought to have asked you for something before +I let you go; she does not like living any longer in the pigsty, and +wants a snug little cottage.' 'Go home, then,' said the fish; 'she is +in the cottage already!' So the man went home, and saw his wife +standing at the door of a nice trim little cottage. 'Come in, come +in!' said she; 'is not this much better than the filthy pigsty we +had?' And there was a parlour, and a bedchamber, and a kitchen; and +behind the cottage there was a little garden, planted with all sorts +of flowers and fruits; and there was a courtyard behind, full of ducks +and chickens. 'Ah!' said the fisherman, 'how happily we shall live +now!' 'We will try to do so, at least,' said his wife. + +Everything went right for a week or two, and then Dame Ilsabill said, +'Husband, there is not near room enough for us in this cottage; the +courtyard and the garden are a great deal too small; I should like to +have a large stone castle to live in: go to the fish again and tell +him to give us a castle.' 'Wife,' said the fisherman, 'I don't like to +go to him again, for perhaps he will be angry; we ought to be easy +with this pretty cottage to live in.' 'Nonsense!' said the wife; 'he +will do it very willingly, I know; go along and try!' + +The fisherman went, but his heart was very heavy: and when he came to +the sea, it looked blue and gloomy, though it was very calm; and he +went close to the edge of the waves, and said: + + 'O man of the sea! + Hearken to me! + My wife Ilsabill + Will have her own will, + And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!' + +'Well, what does she want now?' said the fish. 'Ah!' said the man, +dolefully, 'my wife wants to live in a stone castle.' 'Go home, then,' +said the fish; 'she is standing at the gate of it already.' So away +went the fisherman, and found his wife standing before the gate of a +great castle. 'See,' said she, 'is not this grand?' With that they +went into the castle together, and found a great many servants there, +and the rooms all richly furnished, and full of golden chairs and +tables; and behind the castle was a garden, and around it was a park +half a mile long, full of sheep, and goats, and hares, and deer; and +in the courtyard were stables and cow-houses. 'Well,' said the man, +'now we will live cheerful and happy in this beautiful castle for the +rest of our lives.' 'Perhaps we may,' said the wife; 'but let us sleep +upon it, before we make up our minds to that.' So they went to bed. + +The next morning when Dame Ilsabill awoke it was broad daylight, and +she jogged the fisherman with her elbow, and said, 'Get up, husband, +and bestir yourself, for we must be king of all the land.' 'Wife, +wife,' said the man, 'why should we wish to be the king? I will not be +king.' 'Then I will,' said she. 'But, wife,' said the fisherman, 'how +can you be king--the fish cannot make you a king?' 'Husband,' said +she, 'say no more about it, but go and try! I will be king.' So the +man went away quite sorrowful to think that his wife should want to be +king. This time the sea looked a dark grey colour, and was overspread +with curling waves and the ridges of foam as he cried out: + + 'O man of the sea! + Hearken to me! + My wife Ilsabill + Will have her own will, + And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!' + +'Well, what would she have now?' said the fish. 'Alas!' said the poor +man, 'my wife wants to be king.' 'Go home,' said the fish; 'she is +king already.' + +Then the fisherman went home; and as he came close to the palace he +saw a troop of soldiers, and heard the sound of drums and trumpets. +And when he went in he saw his wife sitting on a throne of gold and +diamonds, with a golden crown upon her head; and on each side of her +stood six fair maidens, each a head taller than the other. 'Well, +wife,' said the fisherman, 'are you king?' 'Yes,' said she, 'I am +king.' And when he had looked at her for a long time, he said, 'Ah, +wife! what a fine thing it is to be king! Now we shall never have +anything more to wish for as long as we live.' 'I don't know how that +may be,' said she; 'never is a long time. I am king, it is true; but I +begin to be tired of that, and I think I should like to be emperor.' +'Alas, wife! why should you wish to be emperor?' said the fisherman. +'Husband,' said she, 'go to the fish! I say I will be emperor.' 'Ah, +wife!' replied the fisherman, 'the fish cannot make an emperor, I am +sure, and I should not like to ask him for such a thing.' 'I am king,' +said Ilsabill, 'and you are my slave; so go at once!' + +So the fisherman was forced to go; and he muttered as he went along, +'This will come to no good, it is too much to ask; the fish will be +tired at last, and then we shall be sorry for what we have done.' He +soon came to the seashore; and the water was quite black and muddy, +and a mighty whirlwind blew over the waves and rolled them about, but +he went as near as he could to the water's brink, and said: + + 'O man of the sea! + Hearken to me! + My wife Ilsabill + Will have her own will, + And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!' + +'What would she have now?' said the fish. 'Ah!' said the fisherman, +'she wants to be emperor.' 'Go home,' said the fish; 'she is emperor +already.' + +So he went home again; and as he came near he saw his wife Ilsabill +sitting on a very lofty throne made of solid gold, with a great crown +on her head full two yards high; and on each side of her stood her +guards and attendants in a row, each one smaller than the other, from +the tallest giant down to a little dwarf no bigger than my finger. And +before her stood princes, and dukes, and earls: and the fisherman went +up to her and said, 'Wife, are you emperor?' 'Yes,' said she, 'I am +emperor.' 'Ah!' said the man, as he gazed upon her, 'what a fine thing +it is to be emperor!' 'Husband,' said she, 'why should we stop at +being emperor? I will be pope next.' 'O wife, wife!' said he, 'how can +you be pope? there is but one pope at a time in Christendom.' +'Husband,' said she, 'I will be pope this very day.' 'But,' replied +the husband, 'the fish cannot make you pope.' 'What nonsense!' said +she; 'if he can make an emperor, he can make a pope: go and try him.' + +So the fisherman went. But when he came to the shore the wind was +raging and the sea was tossed up and down in boiling waves, and the +ships were in trouble, and rolled fearfully upon the tops of the +billows. In the middle of the heavens there was a little piece of blue +sky, but towards the south all was red, as if a dreadful storm was +rising. At this sight the fisherman was dreadfully frightened, and he +trembled so that his knees knocked together: but still he went down +near to the shore, and said: + + 'O man of the sea! + Hearken to me! + My wife Ilsabill + Will have her own will, + And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!' + +'What does she want now?' said the fish. 'Ah!' said the fisherman, 'my +wife wants to be pope.' 'Go home,' said the fish; 'she is pope +already.' + +Then the fisherman went home, and found Ilsabill sitting on a throne +that was two miles high. And she had three great crowns on her head, +and around her stood all the pomp and power of the Church. And on each +side of her were two rows of burning lights, of all sizes, the +greatest as large as the highest and biggest tower in the world, and +the least no larger than a small rushlight. 'Wife,' said the +fisherman, as he looked at all this greatness, 'are you pope?' 'Yes,' +said she, 'I am pope.' 'Well, wife,' replied he, 'it is a grand thing +to be pope; and now you must be easy, for you can be nothing greater.' +'I will think about that,' said the wife. Then they went to bed: but +Dame Ilsabill could not sleep all night for thinking what she should +be next. At last, as she was dropping asleep, morning broke, and the +sun rose. 'Ha!' thought she, as she woke up and looked at it through +the window, 'after all I cannot prevent the sun rising.' At this +thought she was very angry, and wakened her husband, and said, +'Husband, go to the fish and tell him I must be lord of the sun and +moon.' The fisherman was half asleep, but the thought frightened him +so much that he started and fell out of bed. 'Alas, wife!' said he, +'cannot you be easy with being pope?' 'No,' said she, 'I am very +uneasy as long as the sun and moon rise without my leave. Go to the +fish at once!' + +Then the man went shivering with fear; and as he was going down to the +shore a dreadful storm arose, so that the trees and the very rocks +shook. And all the heavens became black with stormy clouds, and the +lightnings played, and the thunders rolled; and you might have seen in +the sea great black waves, swelling up like mountains with crowns of +white foam upon their heads. And the fisherman crept towards the sea, +and cried out, as well as he could: + + 'O man of the sea! + Hearken to me! + My wife Ilsabill + Will have her own will, + And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!' + +'What does she want now?' said the fish. 'Ah!' said he, 'she wants to +be lord of the sun and moon.' 'Go home,' said the fish, 'to your +pigsty again.' + +And there they live to this very day. + + + +THE WILLOW-WREN AND THE BEAR + +Once in summer-time the bear and the wolf were walking in the forest, +and the bear heard a bird singing so beautifully that he said: +'Brother wolf, what bird is it that sings so well?' 'That is the King +of birds,' said the wolf, 'before whom we must bow down.' In reality +the bird was the willow-wren. 'IF that's the case,' said the bear, 'I +should very much like to see his royal palace; come, take me thither.' +'That is not done quite as you seem to think,' said the wolf; 'you +must wait until the Queen comes,' Soon afterwards, the Queen arrived +with some food in her beak, and the lord King came too, and they began +to feed their young ones. The bear would have liked to go at once, but +the wolf held him back by the sleeve, and said: 'No, you must wait +until the lord and lady Queen have gone away again.' So they took +stock of the hole where the nest lay, and trotted away. The bear, +however, could not rest until he had seen the royal palace, and when a +short time had passed, went to it again. The King and Queen had just +flown out, so he peeped in and saw five or six young ones lying there. +'Is that the royal palace?' cried the bear; 'it is a wretched palace, +and you are not King's children, you are disreputable children!' When +the young wrens heard that, they were frightfully angry, and screamed: +'No, that we are not! Our parents are honest people! Bear, you will +have to pay for that!' + +The bear and the wolf grew uneasy, and turned back and went into their +holes. The young willow-wrens, however, continued to cry and scream, +and when their parents again brought food they said: 'We will not so +much as touch one fly's leg, no, not if we were dying of hunger, until +you have settled whether we are respectable children or not; the bear +has been here and has insulted us!' Then the old King said: 'Be easy, +he shall be punished,' and he at once flew with the Queen to the +bear's cave, and called in: 'Old Growler, why have you insulted my +children? You shall suffer for it--we will punish you by a bloody +war.' Thus war was announced to the Bear, and all four-footed animals +were summoned to take part in it, oxen, asses, cows, deer, and every +other animal the earth contained. And the willow-wren summoned +everything which flew in the air, not only birds, large and small, but +midges, and hornets, bees and flies had to come. + +When the time came for the war to begin, the willow-wren sent out +spies to discover who was the enemy's commander-in-chief. The gnat, +who was the most crafty, flew into the forest where the enemy was +assembled, and hid herself beneath a leaf of the tree where the +password was to be announced. There stood the bear, and he called the +fox before him and said: 'Fox, you are the most cunning of all +animals, you shall be general and lead us.' 'Good,' said the fox, 'but +what signal shall we agree upon?' No one knew that, so the fox said: +'I have a fine long bushy tail, which almost looks like a plume of red +feathers. When I lift my tail up quite high, all is going well, and +you must charge; but if I let it hang down, run away as fast as you +can.' When the gnat had heard that, she flew away again, and revealed +everything, down to the minutest detail, to the willow-wren. When day +broke, and the battle was to begin, all the four-footed animals came +running up with such a noise that the earth trembled. The willow-wren +with his army also came flying through the air with such a humming, +and whirring, and swarming that every one was uneasy and afraid, and +on both sides they advanced against each other. But the willow-wren +sent down the hornet, with orders to settle beneath the fox's tail, +and sting with all his might. When the fox felt the first string, he +started so that he one leg, from pain, but he bore it, and +still kept his tail high in the air; at the second sting, he was +forced to put it down for a moment; at the third, he could hold out no +longer, screamed, and put his tail between his legs. When the animals +saw that, they thought all was lost, and began to flee, each into his +hole, and the birds had won the battle. + +Then the King and Queen flew home to their children and cried: +'Children, rejoice, eat and drink to your heart's content, we have won +the battle!' But the young wrens said: 'We will not eat yet, the bear +must come to the nest, and beg for pardon and say that we are +honourable children, before we will do that.' Then the willow-wren +flew to the bear's hole and cried: 'Growler, you are to come to the +nest to my children, and beg their pardon, or else every rib of your +body shall be broken.' So the bear crept thither in the greatest fear, +and begged their pardon. And now at last the young wrens were +satisfied, and sat down together and ate and drank, and made merry +till quite late into the night. + + + +THE FROG-PRINCE + +One fine evening a young princess put on her bonnet and clogs, and +went out to take a walk by herself in a wood; and when she came to a +cool spring of water, that rose in the midst of it, she sat herself +down to rest a while. Now she had a golden ball in her hand, which was +her favourite plaything; and she was always tossing it up into the +air, and catching it again as it fell. After a time she threw it up so +high that she missed catching it as it fell; and the ball bounded +away, and rolled along upon the ground, till at last it fell down into +the spring. The princess looked into the spring after her ball, but it +was very deep, so deep that she could not see the bottom of it. Then +she began to bewail her loss, and said, 'Alas! if I could only get my +ball again, I would give all my fine clothes and jewels, and +everything that I have in the world.' + +Whilst she was speaking, a frog put its head out of the water, and +said, 'Princess, why do you weep so bitterly?' 'Alas!' said she, 'what +can you do for me, you nasty frog? My golden ball has fallen into the +spring.' The frog said, 'I want not your pearls, and jewels, and fine +clothes; but if you will love me, and let me live with you and eat +from off your golden plate, and sleep upon your bed, I will bring you +your ball again.' 'What nonsense,' thought the princess, 'this silly +frog is talking! He can never even get out of the spring to visit me, +though he may be able to get my ball for me, and therefore I will tell +him he shall have what he asks.' So she said to the frog, 'Well, if +you will bring me my ball, I will do all you ask.' Then the frog put +his head down, and dived deep under the water; and after a little +while he came up again, with the ball in his mouth, and threw it on +the edge of the spring. As soon as the young princess saw her ball, +she ran to pick it up; and she was so overjoyed to have it in her hand +again, that she never thought of the frog, but ran home with it as +fast as she could. The frog called after her, 'Stay, princess, and +take me with you as you said,' But she did not stop to hear a word. + +The next day, just as the princess had sat down to dinner, she heard a +strange noise--tap, tap--plash, plash--as if something was coming up +the marble staircase: and soon afterwards there was a gentle knock at +the door, and a little voice cried out and said: + + 'Open the door, my princess dear, + Open the door to thy true love here! + And mind the words that thou and I said + By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.' + +Then the princess ran to the door and opened it, and there she saw the +frog, whom she had quite forgotten. At this sight she was sadly +frightened, and shutting the door as fast as she could came back to +her seat. The king, her father, seeing that something had frightened +her, asked her what was the matter. 'There is a nasty frog,' said she, +'at the door, that lifted my ball for me out of the spring this +morning: I told him that he should live with me here, thinking that he +could never get out of the spring; but there he is at the door, and he +wants to come in.' + +While she was speaking the frog knocked again at the door, and said: + + 'Open the door, my princess dear, + Open the door to thy true love here! + And mind the words that thou and I said + By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.' + +Then the king said to the young princess, 'As you have given your word +you must keep it; so go and let him in.' She did so, and the frog +hopped into the room, and then straight on--tap, tap--plash, plash-- +from the bottom of the room to the top, till he came up close to the +table where the princess sat. 'Pray lift me upon chair,' said he to +the princess, 'and let me sit next to you.' As soon as she had done +this, the frog said, 'Put your plate nearer to me, that I may eat out +of it.' This she did, and when he had eaten as much as he could, he +said, 'Now I am tired; carry me upstairs, and put me into your bed.' +And the princess, though very unwilling, took him up in her hand, and +put him upon the pillow of her own bed, where he slept all night long. +As soon as it was light he jumped up, hopped downstairs, and went out +of the house. 'Now, then,' thought the princess, 'at last he is gone, +and I shall be troubled with him no more.' + +But she was mistaken; for when night came again she heard the same +tapping at the door; and the frog came once more, and said: + + 'Open the door, my princess dear, + Open the door to thy true love here! + And mind the words that thou and I said + By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.' + +And when the princess opened the door the frog came in, and slept upon +her pillow as before, till the morning broke. And the third night he +did the same. But when the princess awoke on the following morning she +was astonished to see, instead of the frog, a handsome prince, gazing +on her with the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen, and standing at +the head of her bed. + +He told her that he had been enchanted by a spiteful fairy, who had +changed him into a frog; and that he had been fated so to abide till +some princess should take him out of the spring, and let him eat from +her plate, and sleep upon her bed for three nights. 'You,' said the +prince, 'have broken his cruel charm, and now I have nothing to wish +for but that you should go with me into my father's kingdom, where I +will marry you, and love you as long as you live.' + +The young princess, you may be sure, was not long in saying 'Yes' to +all this; and as they spoke a gay coach drove up, with eight beautiful +horses, decked with plumes of feathers and a golden harness; and +behind the coach rode the prince's servant, faithful Heinrich, who had +bewailed the misfortunes of his dear master during his enchantment so +long and so bitterly, that his heart had well-nigh burst. + +They then took leave of the king, and got into the coach with eight +horses, and all set out, full of joy and merriment, for the prince's +kingdom, which they reached safely; and there they lived happily a +great many years. + + + +CAT AND MOUSE IN PARTNERSHIP + +A certain cat had made the acquaintance of a mouse, and had said so +much to her about the great love and friendship she felt for her, that +at length the mouse agreed that they should live and keep house +together. 'But we must make a provision for winter, or else we shall +suffer from hunger,' said the cat; 'and you, little mouse, cannot +venture everywhere, or you will be caught in a trap some day.' The +good advice was followed, and a pot of fat was bought, but they did +not know where to put it. At length, after much consideration, the cat +said: 'I know no place where it will be better stored up than in the +church, for no one dares take anything away from there. We will set it +beneath the altar, and not touch it until we are really in need of +it.' So the pot was placed in safety, but it was not long before the +cat had a great yearning for it, and said to the mouse: 'I want to +tell you something, little mouse; my cousin has brought a little son +into the world, and has asked me to be godmother; he is white with +brown spots, and I am to hold him over the font at the christening. +Let me go out today, and you look after the house by yourself.' 'Yes, +yes,' answered the mouse, 'by all means go, and if you get anything +very good to eat, think of me. I should like a drop of sweet red +christening wine myself.' All this, however, was untrue; the cat had +no cousin, and had not been asked to be godmother. She went straight +to the church, stole to the pot of fat, began to lick at it, and +licked the top of the fat off. Then she took a walk upon the roofs of +the town, looked out for opportunities, and then stretched herself in +the sun, and licked her lips whenever she thought of the pot of fat, +and not until it was evening did she return home. 'Well, here you are +again,' said the mouse, 'no doubt you have had a merry day.' 'All went +off well,' answered the cat. 'What name did they give the child?' 'Top +off!' said the cat quite coolly. 'Top off!' cried the mouse, 'that is +a very odd and uncommon name, is it a usual one in your family?' 'What +does that matter,' said the cat, 'it is no worse than Crumb-stealer, +as your godchildren are called.' + +Before long the cat was seized by another fit of yearning. She said to +the mouse: 'You must do me a favour, and once more manage the house +for a day alone. I am again asked to be godmother, and, as the child +has a white ring round its neck, I cannot refuse.' The good mouse +consented, but the cat crept behind the town walls to the church, and +devoured half the pot of fat. 'Nothing ever seems so good as what one +keeps to oneself,' said she, and was quite satisfied with her day's +work. When she went home the mouse inquired: 'And what was the child +christened?' 'Half-done,' answered the cat. 'Half-done! What are you +saying? I never heard the name in my life, I'll wager anything it is +not in the calendar!' + +The cat's mouth soon began to water for some more licking. 'All good +things go in threes,' said she, 'I am asked to stand godmother again. +The child is quite black, only it has white paws, but with that +exception, it has not a single white hair on its whole body; this only +happens once every few years, you will let me go, won't you?' 'Top- +off! Half-done!' answered the mouse, 'they are such odd names, they +make me very thoughtful.' 'You sit at home,' said the cat, 'in your +dark-grey fur coat and long tail, and are filled with fancies, that's +because you do not go out in the daytime.' During the cat's absence +the mouse cleaned the house, and put it in order, but the greedy cat +entirely emptied the pot of fat. 'When everything is eaten up one has +some peace,' said she to herself, and well filled and fat she did not +return home till night. The mouse at once asked what name had been +given to the third child. 'It will not please you more than the +others,' said the cat. 'He is called All-gone.' 'All-gone,' cried the +mouse 'that is the most suspicious name of all! I have never seen it +in print. All-gone; what can that mean?' and she shook her head, +curled herself up, and lay down to sleep. + +From this time forth no one invited the cat to be godmother, but when +the winter had come and there was no longer anything to be found +outside, the mouse thought of their provision, and said: 'Come, cat, +we will go to our pot of fat which we have stored up for ourselves--we +shall enjoy that.' 'Yes,' answered the cat, 'you will enjoy it as much +as you would enjoy sticking that dainty tongue of yours out of the +window.' They set out on their way, but when they arrived, the pot of +fat certainly was still in its place, but it was empty. 'Alas!' said +the mouse, 'now I see what has happened, now it comes to light! You a +true friend! You have devoured all when you were standing godmother. +First top off, then half-done, then--' 'Will you hold your tongue,' +cried the cat, 'one word more, and I will eat you too.' 'All-gone' was +already on the poor mouse's lips; scarcely had she spoken it before +the cat sprang on her, seized her, and swallowed her down. Verily, +that is the way of the world. + + + +THE GOOSE-GIRL + +The king of a great land died, and left his queen to take care of +their only child. This child was a daughter, who was very beautiful; +and her mother loved her dearly, and was very kind to her. And there +was a good fairy too, who was fond of the princess, and helped her +mother to watch over her. When she grew up, she was betrothed to a +prince who lived a great way off; and as the time drew near for her to +be married, she got ready to set off on her journey to his country. +Then the queen her mother, packed up a great many costly things; +jewels, and gold, and silver; trinkets, fine dresses, and in short +everything that became a royal bride. And she gave her a waiting-maid +to ride with her, and give her into the bridegroom's hands; and each +had a horse for the journey. Now the princess's horse was the fairy's +gift, and it was called Falada, and could speak. + +When the time came for them to set out, the fairy went into her bed- +chamber, and took a little knife, and cut off a lock of her hair, and +gave it to the princess, and said, 'Take care of it, dear child; for +it is a charm that may be of use to you on the road.' Then they all +took a sorrowful leave of the princess; and she put the lock of hair +into her bosom, got upon her horse, and set off on her journey to her +bridegroom's kingdom. + +One day, as they were riding along by a brook, the princess began to +feel very thirsty: and she said to her maid, 'Pray get down, and fetch +me some water in my golden cup out of yonder brook, for I want to +drink.' 'Nay,' said the maid, 'if you are thirsty, get off yourself, +and stoop down by the water and drink; I shall not be your waiting- +maid any longer.' Then she was so thirsty that she got down, and knelt +over the little brook, and drank; for she was frightened, and dared +not bring out her golden cup; and she wept and said, 'Alas! what will +become of me?' And the lock answered her, and said: + + 'Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it, + Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.' + +But the princess was very gentle and meek, so she said nothing to her +maid's ill behaviour, but got upon her horse again. + +Then all rode farther on their journey, till the day grew so warm, and +the sun so scorching, that the bride began to feel very thirsty again; +and at last, when they came to a river, she forgot her maid's rude +speech, and said, 'Pray get down, and fetch me some water to drink in +my golden cup.' But the maid answered her, and even spoke more +haughtily than before: 'Drink if you will, but I shall not be your +waiting-maid.' Then the princess was so thirsty that she got off her +horse, and lay down, and held her head over the running stream, and +cried and said, 'What will become of me?' And the lock of hair +answered her again: + + 'Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it, + Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.' + +And as she leaned down to drink, the lock of hair fell from her bosom, +and floated away with the water. Now she was so frightened that she +did not see it; but her maid saw it, and was very glad, for she knew +the charm; and she saw that the poor bride would be in her power, now +that she had lost the hair. So when the bride had done drinking, and +would have got upon Falada again, the maid said, 'I shall ride upon +Falada, and you may have my horse instead'; so she was forced to give +up her horse, and soon afterwards to take off her royal clothes and +put on her maid's shabby ones. + +At last, as they drew near the end of their journey, this treacherous +servant threatened to kill her mistress if she ever told anyone what +had happened. But Falada saw it all, and marked it well. + +Then the waiting-maid got upon Falada, and the real bride rode upon +the other horse, and they went on in this way till at last they came +to the royal court. There was great joy at their coming, and the +prince flew to meet them, and lifted the maid from her horse, thinking +she was the one who was to be his wife; and she was led upstairs to +the royal chamber; but the true princess was told to stay in the court +below. + +Now the old king happened just then to have nothing else to do; so he +amused himself by sitting at his kitchen window, looking at what was +going on; and he saw her in the courtyard. As she looked very pretty, +and too delicate for a waiting-maid, he went up into the royal chamber +to ask the bride who it was she had brought with her, that was thus +left standing in the court below. 'I brought her with me for the sake +of her company on the road,' said she; 'pray give the girl some work +to do, that she may not be idle.' The old king could not for some time +think of any work for her to do; but at last he said, 'I have a lad +who takes care of my geese; she may go and help him.' Now the name of +this lad, that the real bride was to help in watching the king's +geese, was Curdken. + +But the false bride said to the prince, 'Dear husband, pray do me one +piece of kindness.' 'That I will,' said the prince. 'Then tell one of +your slaughterers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon, for it +was very unruly, and plagued me sadly on the road'; but the truth was, +she was very much afraid lest Falada should some day or other speak, +and tell all she had done to the princess. She carried her point, and +the faithful Falada was killed; but when the true princess heard of +it, she wept, and begged the man to nail up Falada's head against a +large dark gate of the city, through which she had to pass every +morning and evening, that there she might still see him sometimes. +Then the slaughterer said he would do as she wished; and cut off the +head, and nailed it up under the dark gate. + +Early the next morning, as she and Curdken went out through the gate, +she said sorrowfully: + + 'Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!' + +and the head answered: + + 'Bride, bride, there thou gangest! + Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it, + Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.' + +Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese on. And when she +came to the meadow, she sat down upon a bank there, and let down her +waving locks of hair, which were all of pure silver; and when Curdken +saw it glitter in the sun, he ran up, and would have pulled some of +the locks out, but she cried: + + 'Blow, breezes, blow! + Let Curdken's hat go! + Blow, breezes, blow! + Let him after it go! + O'er hills, dales, and rocks, + Away be it whirl'd + Till the silvery locks + Are all comb'd and curl'd! + +Then there came a wind, so strong that it blew off Curdken's hat; and +away it flew over the hills: and he was forced to turn and run after +it; till, by the time he came back, she had done combing and curling +her hair, and had put it up again safe. Then he was very angry and +sulky, and would not speak to her at all; but they watched the geese +until it grew dark in the evening, and then drove them homewards. + +The next morning, as they were going through the dark gate, the poor +girl looked up at Falada's head, and cried: + + 'Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!' + +and the head answered: + + 'Bride, bride, there thou gangest! + Alas! alas! if they mother knew it, + Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.' + +Then she drove on the geese, and sat down again in the meadow, and +began to comb out her hair as before; and Curdken ran up to her, and +wanted to take hold of it; but she cried out quickly: + + 'Blow, breezes, blow! + Let Curdken's hat go! + Blow, breezes, blow! + Let him after it go! + O'er hills, dales, and rocks, + Away be it whirl'd + Till the silvery locks + Are all comb'd and curl'd! + +Then the wind came and blew away his hat; and off it flew a great way, +over the hills and far away, so that he had to run after it; and when +he came back she had bound up her hair again, and all was safe. So +they watched the geese till it grew dark. + +In the evening, after they came home, Curdken went to the old king, +and said, 'I cannot have that strange girl to help me to keep the +geese any longer.' 'Why?' said the king. 'Because, instead of doing +any good, she does nothing but tease me all day long.' Then the king +made him tell him what had happened. And Curdken said, 'When we go in +the morning through the dark gate with our flock of geese, she cries +and talks with the head of a horse that hangs upon the wall, and says: + + 'Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!' + +and the head answers: + + 'Bride, bride, there thou gangest! + Alas! alas! if they mother knew it, + Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.' + +And Curdken went on telling the king what had happened upon the meadow +where the geese fed; how his hat was blown away; and how he was forced +to run after it, and to leave his flock of geese to themselves. But +the old king told the boy to go out again the next day: and when +morning came, he placed himself behind the dark gate, and heard how +she spoke to Falada, and how Falada answered. Then he went into the +field, and hid himself in a bush by the meadow's side; and he soon saw +with his own eyes how they drove the flock of geese; and how, after a +little time, she let down her hair that glittered in the sun. And then +he heard her say: + + 'Blow, breezes, blow! + Let Curdken's hat go! + Blow, breezes, blow! + Let him after it go! + O'er hills, dales, and rocks, + Away be it whirl'd + Till the silvery locks + Are all comb'd and curl'd! + +And soon came a gale of wind, and carried away Curdken's hat, and away +went Curdken after it, while the girl went on combing and curling her +hair. All this the old king saw: so he went home without being seen; +and when the little goose-girl came back in the evening he called her +aside, and asked her why she did so: but she burst into tears, and +said, 'That I must not tell you or any man, or I shall lose my life.' + +But the old king begged so hard, that she had no peace till she had +told him all the tale, from beginning to end, word for word. And it +was very lucky for her that she did so, for when she had done the king +ordered royal clothes to be put upon her, and gazed on her with +wonder, she was so beautiful. Then he called his son and told him that +he had only a false bride; for that she was merely a waiting-maid, +while the true bride stood by. And the young king rejoiced when he saw +her beauty, and heard how meek and patient she had been; and without +saying anything to the false bride, the king ordered a great feast to +be got ready for all his court. The bridegroom sat at the top, with +the false princess on one side, and the true one on the other; but +nobody knew her again, for her beauty was quite dazzling to their +eyes; and she did not seem at all like the little goose-girl, now that +she had her brilliant dress on. + +When they had eaten and drank, and were very merry, the old king said +he would tell them a tale. So he began, and told all the story of the +princess, as if it was one that he had once heard; and he asked the +true waiting-maid what she thought ought to be done to anyone who +would behave thus. 'Nothing better,' said this false bride, 'than that +she should be thrown into a cask stuck round with sharp nails, and +that two white horses should be put to it, and should drag it from +street to street till she was dead.' 'Thou art she!' said the old +king; 'and as thou has judged thyself, so shall it be done to thee.' +And the young king was then married to his true wife, and they reigned +over the kingdom in peace and happiness all their lives; and the good +fairy came to see them, and restored the faithful Falada to life +again. + + + +THE ADVENTURES OF CHANTICLEER AND PARTLET + + +1. HOW THEY WENT TO THE MOUNTAINS TO EAT NUTS + +'The nuts are quite ripe now,' said Chanticleer to his wife Partlet, +'suppose we go together to the mountains, and eat as many as we can, +before the squirrel takes them all away.' 'With all my heart,' said +Partlet, 'let us go and make a holiday of it together.' + +So they went to the mountains; and as it was a lovely day, they stayed +there till the evening. Now, whether it was that they had eaten so +many nuts that they could not walk, or whether they were lazy and +would not, I do not know: however, they took it into their heads that +it did not become them to go home on foot. So Chanticleer began to +build a little carriage of nutshells: and when it was finished, +Partlet jumped into it and sat down, and bid Chanticleer harness +himself to it and draw her home. 'That's a good joke!' said +Chanticleer; 'no, that will never do; I had rather by half walk home; +I'll sit on the box and be coachman, if you like, but I'll not draw.' +While this was passing, a duck came quacking up and cried out, 'You +thieving vagabonds, what business have you in my grounds? I'll give it +you well for your insolence!' and upon that she fell upon Chanticleer +most lustily. But Chanticleer was no coward, and returned the duck's +blows with his sharp spurs so fiercely that she soon began to cry out +for mercy; which was only granted her upon condition that she would +draw the carriage home for them. This she agreed to do; and +Chanticleer got upon the box, and drove, crying, 'Now, duck, get on as +fast as you can.' And away they went at a pretty good pace. + +After they had travelled along a little way, they met a needle and a +pin walking together along the road: and the needle cried out, 'Stop, +stop!' and said it was so dark that they could hardly find their way, +and such dirty walking they could not get on at all: he told them that +he and his friend, the pin, had been at a public-house a few miles +off, and had sat drinking till they had forgotten how late it was; he +begged therefore that the travellers would be so kind as to give them +a lift in their carriage. Chanticleer observing that they were but +thin fellows, and not likely to take up much room, told them they +might ride, but made them promise not to dirty the wheels of the +carriage in getting in, nor to tread on Partlet's toes. + +Late at night they arrived at an inn; and as it was bad travelling in +the dark, and the duck seemed much tired, and waddled about a good +deal from one side to the other, they made up their minds to fix their +quarters there: but the landlord at first was unwilling, and said his +house was full, thinking they might not be very respectable company: +however, they spoke civilly to him, and gave him the egg which Partlet +had laid by the way, and said they would give him the duck, who was in +the habit of laying one every day: so at last he let them come in, and +they bespoke a handsome supper, and spent the evening very jollily. + +Early in the morning, before it was quite light, and when nobody was +stirring in the inn, Chanticleer awakened his wife, and, fetching the +egg, they pecked a hole in it, ate it up, and threw the shells into +the fireplace: they then went to the pin and needle, who were fast +asleep, and seizing them by the heads, stuck one into the landlord's +easy chair and the other into his handkerchief; and, having done this, +they crept away as softly as possible. However, the duck, who slept in +the open air in the yard, heard them coming, and jumping into the +brook which ran close by the inn, soon swam out of their reach. + +An hour or two afterwards the landlord got up, and took his +handkerchief to wipe his face, but the pin ran into him and pricked +him: then he walked into the kitchen to light his pipe at the fire, +but when he stirred it up the eggshells flew into his eyes, and almost +blinded him. 'Bless me!' said he, 'all the world seems to have a +design against my head this morning': and so saying, he threw himself +sulkily into his easy chair; but, oh dear! the needle ran into him; +and this time the pain was not in his head. He now flew into a very +great passion, and, suspecting the company who had come in the night +before, he went to look after them, but they were all off; so he swore +that he never again would take in such a troop of vagabonds, who ate a +great deal, paid no reckoning, and gave him nothing for his trouble +but their apish tricks. + + +2. HOW CHANTICLEER AND PARTLET WENT TO VIST MR KORBES + +Another day, Chanticleer and Partlet wished to ride out together; so +Chanticleer built a handsome carriage with four red wheels, and +harnessed six mice to it; and then he and Partlet got into the +carriage, and away they drove. Soon afterwards a cat met them, and +said, 'Where are you going?' And Chanticleer replied, + + 'All on our way + A visit to pay + To Mr Korbes, the fox, today.' + +Then the cat said, 'Take me with you,' Chanticleer said, 'With all my +heart: get up behind, and be sure you do not fall off.' + + 'Take care of this handsome coach of mine, + Nor dirty my pretty red wheels so fine! + Now, mice, be ready, + And, wheels, run steady! + For we are going a visit to pay + To Mr Korbes, the fox, today.' + +Soon after came up a millstone, an egg, a duck, and a pin; and +Chanticleer gave them all leave to get into the carriage and go with +them. + +When they arrived at Mr Korbes's house, he was not at home; so the +mice drew the carriage into the coach-house, Chanticleer and Partlet +flew upon a beam, the cat sat down in the fireplace, the duck got into +the washing cistern, the pin stuck himself into the bed pillow, the +millstone laid himself over the house door, and the egg rolled himself +up in the towel. + +When Mr Korbes came home, he went to the fireplace to make a fire; but +the cat threw all the ashes in his eyes: so he ran to the kitchen to +wash himself; but there the duck splashed all the water in his face; +and when he tried to wipe himself, the egg broke to pieces in the +towel all over his face and eyes. Then he was very angry, and went +without his supper to bed; but when he laid his head on the pillow, +the pin ran into his cheek: at this he became quite furious, and, +jumping up, would have run out of the house; but when he came to the +door, the millstone fell down on his head, and killed him on the spot. + + +3. HOW PARTLET DIED AND WAS BURIED, AND HOW CHANTICLEER DIED OF GRIEF + +Another day Chanticleer and Partlet agreed to go again to the +mountains to eat nuts; and it was settled that all the nuts which they +found should be shared equally between them. Now Partlet found a very +large nut; but she said nothing about it to Chanticleer, and kept it +all to herself: however, it was so big that she could not swallow it, +and it stuck in her throat. Then she was in a great fright, and cried +out to Chanticleer, 'Pray run as fast as you can, and fetch me some +water, or I shall be choked.' Chanticleer ran as fast as he could to +the river, and said, 'River, give me some water, for Partlet lies in +the mountain, and will be choked by a great nut.' The river said, 'Run +first to the bride, and ask her for a silken cord to draw up the +water.' Chanticleer ran to the bride, and said, 'Bride, you must give +me a silken cord, for then the river will give me water, and the water +I will carry to Partlet, who lies on the mountain, and will be choked +by a great nut.' But the bride said, 'Run first, and bring me my +garland that is hanging on a willow in the garden.' Then Chanticleer +ran to the garden, and took the garland from the bough where it hung, +and brought it to the bride; and then the bride gave him the silken +cord, and he took the silken cord to the river, and the river gave him +water, and he carried the water to Partlet; but in the meantime she +was choked by the great nut, and lay quite dead, and never moved any +more. + +Then Chanticleer was very sorry, and cried bitterly; and all the +beasts came and wept with him over poor Partlet. And six mice built a +little hearse to carry her to her grave; and when it was ready they +harnessed themselves before it, and Chanticleer drove them. On the way +they met the fox. 'Where are you going, Chanticleer?' said he. 'To +bury my Partlet,' said the other. 'May I go with you?' said the fox. +'Yes; but you must get up behind, or my horses will not be able to +draw you.' Then the fox got up behind; and presently the wolf, the +bear, the goat, and all the beasts of the wood, came and climbed upon +the hearse. + +So on they went till they came to a rapid stream. 'How shall we get +over?' said Chanticleer. Then said a straw, 'I will lay myself across, +and you may pass over upon me.' But as the mice were going over, the +straw slipped away and fell into the water, and the six mice all fell +in and were drowned. What was to be done? Then a large log of wood +came and said, 'I am big enough; I will lay myself across the stream, +and you shall pass over upon me.' So he laid himself down; but they +managed so clumsily, that the log of wood fell in and was carried away +by the stream. Then a stone, who saw what had happened, came up and +kindly offered to help poor Chanticleer by laying himself across the +stream; and this time he got safely to the other side with the hearse, +and managed to get Partlet out of it; but the fox and the other +mourners, who were sitting behind, were too heavy, and fell back into +the water and were all carried away by the stream and drowned. + +Thus Chanticleer was left alone with his dead Partlet; and having dug +a grave for her, he laid her in it, and made a little hillock over +her. Then he sat down by the grave, and wept and mourned, till at last +he died too; and so all were dead. + + + +RAPUNZEL + +There were once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for a +child. At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her +desire. These people had a little window at the back of their house +from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most +beautiful flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high +wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an +enchantress, who had great power and was dreaded by all the world. One +day the woman was standing by this window and looking down into the +garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful +rampion (rapunzel), and it looked so fresh and green that she longed +for it, she quite pined away, and began to look pale and miserable. +Then her husband was alarmed, and asked: 'What ails you, dear wife?' +'Ah,' she replied, 'if I can't eat some of the rampion, which is in +the garden behind our house, I shall die.' The man, who loved her, +thought: 'Sooner than let your wife die, bring her some of the rampion +yourself, let it cost what it will.' At twilight, he clambered down +over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily clutched a +handful of rampion, and took it to his wife. She at once made herself +a salad of it, and ate it greedily. It tasted so good to her--so very +good, that the next day she longed for it three times as much as +before. If he was to have any rest, her husband must once more descend +into the garden. In the gloom of evening therefore, he let himself +down again; but when he had clambered down the wall he was terribly +afraid, for he saw the enchantress standing before him. 'How can you +dare,' said she with angry look, 'descend into my garden and steal my +rampion like a thief? You shall suffer for it!' 'Ah,' answered he, +'let mercy take the place of justice, I only made up my mind to do it +out of necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window, and felt +such a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some +to eat.' Then the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and +said to him: 'If the case be as you say, I will allow you to take away +with you as much rampion as you will, only I make one condition, you +must give me the child which your wife will bring into the world; it +shall be well treated, and I will care for it like a mother.' The man +in his terror consented to everything, and when the woman was brought +to bed, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the child the name of +Rapunzel, and took it away with her. + +Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child under the sun. When she +was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay +in a forest, and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top was +a little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed +herself beneath it and cried: + + 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down your hair to me.' + +Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she +heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, +wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the +hair fell twenty ells down, and the enchantress climbed up by it. + +After a year or two, it came to pass that the king's son rode through +the forest and passed by the tower. Then he heard a song, which was so +charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in +her solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The +king's son wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the +tower, but none was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so +deeply touched his heart, that every day he went out into the forest +and listened to it. Once when he was thus standing behind a tree, he +saw that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried: + + 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down your hair to me.' + +Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress +climbed up to her. 'If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I too +will try my fortune,' said he, and the next day when it began to grow +dark, he went to the tower and cried: + + 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down your hair to me.' + +Immediately the hair fell down and the king's son climbed up. + +At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man, such as her eyes +had never yet beheld, came to her; but the king's son began to talk to +her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so +stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to +see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she +would take him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and +handsome, she thought: 'He will love me more than old Dame Gothel +does'; and she said yes, and laid her hand in his. She said: 'I will +willingly go away with you, but I do not know how to get down. Bring +with you a skein of silk every time that you come, and I will weave a +ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and you will +take me on your horse.' They agreed that until that time he should +come to her every evening, for the old woman came by day. The +enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once Rapunzel said to her: +'Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are so much heavier for +me to draw up than the young king's son--he is with me in a moment.' +'Ah! you wicked child,' cried the enchantress. 'What do I hear you +say! I thought I had separated you from all the world, and yet you +have deceived me!' In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's beautiful +tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a pair of +scissors with the right, and snip, snap, they were cut off, and the +lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she took +poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great grief and +misery. + +On the same day that she cast out Rapunzel, however, the enchantress +fastened the braids of hair, which she had cut off, to the hook of the +window, and when the king's son came and cried: + + 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down your hair to me.' + +she let the hair down. The king's son ascended, but instead of finding +his dearest Rapunzel, he found the enchantress, who gazed at him with +wicked and venomous looks. 'Aha!' she cried mockingly, 'you would +fetch your dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in +the nest; the cat has got it, and will scratch out your eyes as well. +Rapunzel is lost to you; you will never see her again.' The king's son +was beside himself with pain, and in his despair he leapt down from +the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell +pierced his eyes. Then he wandered quite blind about the forest, ate +nothing but roots and berries, and did naught but lament and weep over +the loss of his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about in misery for some +years, and at length came to the desert where Rapunzel, with the twins +to which she had given birth, a boy and a girl, lived in wretchedness. +He heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that he went +towards it, and when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell on his +neck and wept. Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew clear +again, and he could see with them as before. He led her to his kingdom +where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long time +afterwards, happy and contented. + + + +FUNDEVOGEL + +There was once a forester who went into the forest to hunt, and as he +entered it he heard a sound of screaming as if a little child were +there. He followed the sound, and at last came to a high tree, and at +the top of this a little child was sitting, for the mother had fallen +asleep under the tree with the child, and a bird of prey had seen it +in her arms, had flown down, snatched it away, and set it on the high +tree. + +The forester climbed up, brought the child down, and thought to +himself: 'You will take him home with you, and bring him up with your +Lina.' He took it home, therefore, and the two children grew up +together. And the one, which he had found on a tree was called +Fundevogel, because a bird had carried it away. Fundevogel and Lina +loved each other so dearly that when they did not see each other they +were sad. + +Now the forester had an old cook, who one evening took two pails and +began to fetch water, and did not go once only, but many times, out to +the spring. Lina saw this and said, 'Listen, old Sanna, why are you +fetching so much water?' 'If you will never repeat it to anyone, I +will tell you why.' So Lina said, no, she would never repeat it to +anyone, and then the cook said: 'Early tomorrow morning, when the +forester is out hunting, I will heat the water, and when it is boiling +in the kettle, I will throw in Fundevogel, and will boil him in it.' + +Early next morning the forester got up and went out hunting, and when +he was gone the children were still in bed. Then Lina said to +Fundevogel: 'If you will never leave me, I too will never leave you.' +Fundevogel said: 'Neither now, nor ever will I leave you.' Then said +Lina: 'Then will I tell you. Last night, old Sanna carried so many +buckets of water into the house that I asked her why she was doing +that, and she said that if I would promise not to tell anyone, and she +said that early tomorrow morning when father was out hunting, she +would set the kettle full of water, throw you into it and boil you; +but we will get up quickly, dress ourselves, and go away together.' + +The two children therefore got up, dressed themselves quickly, and +went away. When the water in the kettle was boiling, the cook went +into the bedroom to fetch Fundevogel and throw him into it. But when +she came in, and went to the beds, both the children were gone. Then +she was terribly alarmed, and she said to herself: 'What shall I say +now when the forester comes home and sees that the children are gone? +They must be followed instantly to get them back again.' + +Then the cook sent three servants after them, who were to run and +overtake the children. The children, however, were sitting outside the +forest, and when they saw from afar the three servants running, Lina +said to Fundevogel: 'Never leave me, and I will never leave you.' +Fundevogel said: 'Neither now, nor ever.' Then said Lina: 'Do you +become a rose-tree, and I the rose upon it.' When the three servants +came to the forest, nothing was there but a rose-tree and one rose on +it, but the children were nowhere. Then said they: 'There is nothing +to be done here,' and they went home and told the cook that they had +seen nothing in the forest but a little rose-bush with one rose on it. +Then the old cook scolded and said: 'You simpletons, you should have +cut the rose-bush in two, and have broken off the rose and brought it +home with you; go, and do it at once.' They had therefore to go out +and look for the second time. The children, however, saw them coming +from a distance. Then Lina said: 'Fundevogel, never leave me, and I +will never leave you.' Fundevogel said: 'Neither now; nor ever.' Said +Lina: 'Then do you become a church, and I'll be the chandelier in it.' +So when the three servants came, nothing was there but a church, with +a chandelier in it. They said therefore to each other: 'What can we do +here, let us go home.' When they got home, the cook asked if they had +not found them; so they said no, they had found nothing but a church, +and there was a chandelier in it. And the cook scolded them and said: +'You fools! why did you not pull the church to pieces, and bring the +chandelier home with you?' And now the old cook herself got on her +legs, and went with the three servants in pursuit of the children. The +children, however, saw from afar that the three servants were coming, +and the cook waddling after them. Then said Lina: 'Fundevogel, never +leave me, and I will never leave you.' Then said Fundevogel: 'Neither +now, nor ever.' Said Lina: 'Be a fishpond, and I will be the duck upon +it.' The cook, however, came up to them, and when she saw the pond she +lay down by it, and was about to drink it up. But the duck swam +quickly to her, seized her head in its beak and drew her into the +water, and there the old witch had to drown. Then the children went +home together, and were heartily delighted, and if they have not died, +they are living still. + + + +THE VALIANT LITTLE TAILOR + +One summer's morning a little tailor was sitting on his table by the +window; he was in good spirits, and sewed with all his might. Then +came a peasant woman down the street crying: 'Good jams, cheap! Good +jams, cheap!' This rang pleasantly in the tailor's ears; he stretched +his delicate head out of the window, and called: 'Come up here, dear +woman; here you will get rid of your goods.' The woman came up the +three steps to the tailor with her heavy basket, and he made her +unpack all the pots for him. He inspected each one, lifted it up, put +his nose to it, and at length said: 'The jam seems to me to be good, +so weigh me out four ounces, dear woman, and if it is a quarter of a +pound that is of no consequence.' The woman who had hoped to find a +good sale, gave him what he desired, but went away quite angry and +grumbling. 'Now, this jam shall be blessed by God,' cried the little +tailor, 'and give me health and strength'; so he brought the bread out +of the cupboard, cut himself a piece right across the loaf and spread +the jam over it. 'This won't taste bitter,' said he, 'but I will just +finish the jacket before I take a bite.' He laid the bread near him, +sewed on, and in his joy, made bigger and bigger stitches. In the +meantime the smell of the sweet jam rose to where the flies were +sitting in great numbers, and they were attracted and descended on it +in hosts. 'Hi! who invited you?' said the little tailor, and drove the +unbidden guests away. The flies, however, who understood no German, +would not be turned away, but came back again in ever-increasing +companies. The little tailor at last lost all patience, and drew a +piece of cloth from the hole under his work-table, and saying: 'Wait, +and I will give it to you,' struck it mercilessly on them. When he +drew it away and counted, there lay before him no fewer than seven, +dead and with legs stretched out. 'Are you a fellow of that sort?' +said he, and could not help admiring his own bravery. 'The whole town +shall know of this!' And the little tailor hastened to cut himself a +girdle, stitched it, and embroidered on it in large letters: 'Seven at +one stroke!' 'What, the town!' he continued, 'the whole world shall +hear of it!' and his heart wagged with joy like a lamb's tail. The +tailor put on the girdle, and resolved to go forth into the world, +because he thought his workshop was too small for his valour. Before +he went away, he sought about in the house to see if there was +anything which he could take with him; however, he found nothing but +an old cheese, and that he put in his pocket. In front of the door he +observed a bird which had caught itself in the thicket. It had to go +into his pocket with the cheese. Now he took to the road boldly, and +as he was light and nimble, he felt no fatigue. The road led him up a +mountain, and when he had reached the highest point of it, there sat a +powerful giant looking peacefully about him. The little tailor went +bravely up, spoke to him, and said: 'Good day, comrade, so you are +sitting there overlooking the wide-spread world! I am just on my way +thither, and want to try my luck. Have you any inclination to go with +me?' The giant looked contemptuously at the tailor, and said: 'You +ragamuffin! You miserable creature!' + +'Oh, indeed?' answered the little tailor, and unbuttoned his coat, and +showed the giant the girdle, 'there may you read what kind of a man I +am!' The giant read: 'Seven at one stroke,' and thought that they had +been men whom the tailor had killed, and began to feel a little +respect for the tiny fellow. Nevertheless, he wished to try him first, +and took a stone in his hand and squeezed it together so that water +dropped out of it. 'Do that likewise,' said the giant, 'if you have +strength.' 'Is that all?' said the tailor, 'that is child's play with +us!' and put his hand into his pocket, brought out the soft cheese, +and pressed it until the liquid ran out of it. 'Faith,' said he, 'that +was a little better, wasn't it?' The giant did not know what to say, +and could not believe it of the little man. Then the giant picked up a +stone and threw it so high that the eye could scarcely follow it. +'Now, little mite of a man, do that likewise,' 'Well thrown,' said the +tailor, 'but after all the stone came down to earth again; I will +throw you one which shall never come back at all,' and he put his hand +into his pocket, took out the bird, and threw it into the air. The +bird, delighted with its liberty, rose, flew away and did not come +back. 'How does that shot please you, comrade?' asked the tailor. 'You +can certainly throw,' said the giant, 'but now we will see if you are +able to carry anything properly.' He took the little tailor to a +mighty oak tree which lay there felled on the ground, and said: 'If +you are strong enough, help me to carry the tree out of the forest.' +'Readily,' answered the little man; 'take you the trunk on your +shoulders, and I will raise up the branches and twigs; after all, they +are the heaviest.' The giant took the trunk on his shoulder, but the +tailor seated himself on a branch, and the giant, who could not look +round, had to carry away the whole tree, and the little tailor into +the bargain: he behind, was quite merry and happy, and whistled the +song: 'Three tailors rode forth from the gate,' as if carrying the +tree were child's play. The giant, after he had dragged the heavy +burden part of the way, could go no further, and cried: 'Hark you, I +shall have to let the tree fall!' The tailor sprang nimbly down, +seized the tree with both arms as if he had been carrying it, and said +to the giant: 'You are such a great fellow, and yet cannot even carry +the tree!' + +They went on together, and as they passed a cherry-tree, the giant +laid hold of the top of the tree where the ripest fruit was hanging, +bent it down, gave it into the tailor's hand, and bade him eat. But +the little tailor was much too weak to hold the tree, and when the +giant let it go, it sprang back again, and the tailor was tossed into +the air with it. When he had fallen down again without injury, the +giant said: 'What is this? Have you not strength enough to hold the +weak twig?' 'There is no lack of strength,' answered the little +tailor. 'Do you think that could be anything to a man who has struck +down seven at one blow? I leapt over the tree because the huntsmen are +shooting down there in the thicket. Jump as I did, if you can do it.' +The giant made the attempt but he could not get over the tree, and +remained hanging in the branches, so that in this also the tailor kept +the upper hand. + +The giant said: 'If you are such a valiant fellow, come with me into +our cavern and spend the night with us.' The little tailor was +willing, and followed him. When they went into the cave, other giants +were sitting there by the fire, and each of them had a roasted sheep +in his hand and was eating it. The little tailor looked round and +thought: 'It is much more spacious here than in my workshop.' The +giant showed him a bed, and said he was to lie down in it and sleep. +The bed, however, was too big for the little tailor; he did not lie +down in it, but crept into a corner. When it was midnight, and the +giant thought that the little tailor was lying in a sound sleep, he +got up, took a great iron bar, cut through the bed with one blow, and +thought he had finished off the grasshopper for good. With the +earliest dawn the giants went into the forest, and had quite forgotten +the little tailor, when all at once he walked up to them quite merrily +and boldly. The giants were terrified, they were afraid that he would +strike them all dead, and ran away in a great hurry. + +The little tailor went onwards, always following his own pointed nose. +After he had walked for a long time, he came to the courtyard of a +royal palace, and as he felt weary, he lay down on the grass and fell +asleep. Whilst he lay there, the people came and inspected him on all +sides, and read on his girdle: 'Seven at one stroke.' 'Ah!' said they, +'what does the great warrior want here in the midst of peace? He must +be a mighty lord.' They went and announced him to the king, and gave +it as their opinion that if war should break out, this would be a +weighty and useful man who ought on no account to be allowed to +depart. The counsel pleased the king, and he sent one of his courtiers +to the little tailor to offer him military service when he awoke. The +ambassador remained standing by the sleeper, waited until he stretched +his limbs and opened his eyes, and then conveyed to him this proposal. +'For this very reason have I come here,' the tailor replied, 'I am +ready to enter the king's service.' He was therefore honourably +received, and a special dwelling was assigned him. + +The soldiers, however, were set against the little tailor, and wished +him a thousand miles away. 'What is to be the end of this?' they said +among themselves. 'If we quarrel with him, and he strikes about him, +seven of us will fall at every blow; not one of us can stand against +him.' They came therefore to a decision, betook themselves in a body +to the king, and begged for their dismissal. 'We are not prepared,' +said they, 'to stay with a man who kills seven at one stroke.' The +king was sorry that for the sake of one he should lose all his +faithful servants, wished that he had never set eyes on the tailor, +and would willingly have been rid of him again. But he did not venture +to give him his dismissal, for he dreaded lest he should strike him +and all his people dead, and place himself on the royal throne. He +thought about it for a long time, and at last found good counsel. He +sent to the little tailor and caused him to be informed that as he was +a great warrior, he had one request to make to him. In a forest of his +country lived two giants, who caused great mischief with their +robbing, murdering, ravaging, and burning, and no one could approach +them without putting himself in danger of death. If the tailor +conquered and killed these two giants, he would give him his only +daughter to wife, and half of his kingdom as a dowry, likewise one +hundred horsemen should go with him to assist him. 'That would indeed +be a fine thing for a man like me!' thought the little tailor. 'One is +not offered a beautiful princess and half a kingdom every day of one's +life!' 'Oh, yes,' he replied, 'I will soon subdue the giants, and do +not require the help of the hundred horsemen to do it; he who can hit +seven with one blow has no need to be afraid of two.' + +The little tailor went forth, and the hundred horsemen followed him. +When he came to the outskirts of the forest, he said to his followers: +'Just stay waiting here, I alone will soon finish off the giants.' +Then he bounded into the forest and looked about right and left. After +a while he perceived both giants. They lay sleeping under a tree, and +snored so that the branches waved up and down. The little tailor, not +idle, gathered two pocketsful of stones, and with these climbed up the +tree. When he was halfway up, he slipped down by a branch, until he +sat just above the sleepers, and then let one stone after another fall +on the breast of one of the giants. For a long time the giant felt +nothing, but at last he awoke, pushed his comrade, and said: 'Why are +you knocking me?' 'You must be dreaming,' said the other, 'I am not +knocking you.' They laid themselves down to sleep again, and then the +tailor threw a stone down on the second. 'What is the meaning of +this?' cried the other 'Why are you pelting me?' 'I am not pelting +you,' answered the first, growling. They disputed about it for a time, +but as they were weary they let the matter rest, and their eyes closed +once more. The little tailor began his game again, picked out the +biggest stone, and threw it with all his might on the breast of the +first giant. 'That is too bad!' cried he, and sprang up like a madman, +and pushed his companion against the tree until it shook. The other +paid him back in the same coin, and they got into such a rage that +they tore up trees and belaboured each other so long, that at last +they both fell down dead on the ground at the same time. Then the +little tailor leapt down. 'It is a lucky thing,' said he, 'that they +did not tear up the tree on which I was sitting, or I should have had +to sprint on to another like a squirrel; but we tailors are nimble.' +He drew out his sword and gave each of them a couple of thrusts in the +breast, and then went out to the horsemen and said: 'The work is done; +I have finished both of them off, but it was hard work! They tore up +trees in their sore need, and defended themselves with them, but all +that is to no purpose when a man like myself comes, who can kill seven +at one blow.' 'But are you not wounded?' asked the horsemen. 'You need +not concern yourself about that,' answered the tailor, 'they have not +bent one hair of mine.' The horsemen would not believe him, and rode +into the forest; there they found the giants swimming in their blood, +and all round about lay the torn-up trees. + +The little tailor demanded of the king the promised reward; he, +however, repented of his promise, and again bethought himself how he +could get rid of the hero. 'Before you receive my daughter, and the +half of my kingdom,' said he to him, 'you must perform one more heroic +deed. In the forest roams a unicorn which does great harm, and you +must catch it first.' 'I fear one unicorn still less than two giants. +Seven at one blow, is my kind of affair.' He took a rope and an axe +with him, went forth into the forest, and again bade those who were +sent with him to wait outside. He had not long to seek. The unicorn +soon came towards him, and rushed directly on the tailor, as if it +would gore him with its horn without more ado. 'Softly, softly; it +can't be done as quickly as that,' said he, and stood still and waited +until the animal was quite close, and then sprang nimbly behind the +tree. The unicorn ran against the tree with all its strength, and +stuck its horn so fast in the trunk that it had not the strength +enough to draw it out again, and thus it was caught. 'Now, I have got +the bird,' said the tailor, and came out from behind the tree and put +the rope round its neck, and then with his axe he hewed the horn out +of the tree, and when all was ready he led the beast away and took it +to the king. + +The king still would not give him the promised reward, and made a +third demand. Before the wedding the tailor was to catch him a wild +boar that made great havoc in the forest, and the huntsmen should give +him their help. 'Willingly,' said the tailor, 'that is child's play!' +He did not take the huntsmen with him into the forest, and they were +well pleased that he did not, for the wild boar had several times +received them in such a manner that they had no inclination to lie in +wait for him. When the boar perceived the tailor, it ran on him with +foaming mouth and whetted tusks, and was about to throw him to the +ground, but the hero fled and sprang into a chapel which was near and +up to the window at once, and in one bound out again. The boar ran +after him, but the tailor ran round outside and shut the door behind +it, and then the raging beast, which was much too heavy and awkward to +leap out of the window, was caught. The little tailor called the +huntsmen thither that they might see the prisoner with their own eyes. +The hero, however, went to the king, who was now, whether he liked it +or not, obliged to keep his promise, and gave his daughter and the +half of his kingdom. Had he known that it was no warlike hero, but a +little tailor who was standing before him, it would have gone to his +heart still more than it did. The wedding was held with great +magnificence and small joy, and out of a tailor a king was made. + +After some time the young queen heard her husband say in his dreams at +night: 'Boy, make me the doublet, and patch the pantaloons, or else I +will rap the yard-measure over your ears.' Then she discovered in what +state of life the young lord had been born, and next morning +complained of her wrongs to her father, and begged him to help her to +get rid of her husband, who was nothing else but a tailor. The king +comforted her and said: 'Leave your bedroom door open this night, and +my servants shall stand outside, and when he has fallen asleep shall +go in, bind him, and take him on board a ship which shall carry him +into the wide world.' The woman was satisfied with this; but the +king's armour-bearer, who had heard all, was friendly with the young +lord, and informed him of the whole plot. 'I'll put a screw into that +business,' said the little tailor. At night he went to bed with his +wife at the usual time, and when she thought that he had fallen +asleep, she got up, opened the door, and then lay down again. The +little tailor, who was only pretending to be asleep, began to cry out +in a clear voice: 'Boy, make me the doublet and patch me the +pantaloons, or I will rap the yard-measure over your ears. I smote +seven at one blow. I killed two giants, I brought away one unicorn, +and caught a wild boar, and am I to fear those who are standing +outside the room.' When these men heard the tailor speaking thus, they +were overcome by a great dread, and ran as if the wild huntsman were +behind them, and none of them would venture anything further against +him. So the little tailor was and remained a king to the end of his +life. + + + +HANSEL AND GRETEL + +Hard by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his wife and his +two children. The boy was called Hansel and the girl Gretel. He had +little to bite and to break, and once when great dearth fell on the +land, he could no longer procure even daily bread. Now when he thought +over this by night in his bed, and tossed about in his anxiety, he +groaned and said to his wife: 'What is to become of us? How are we to +feed our poor children, when we no longer have anything even for +ourselves?' 'I'll tell you what, husband,' answered the woman, 'early +tomorrow morning we will take the children out into the forest to +where it is the thickest; there we will light a fire for them, and +give each of them one more piece of bread, and then we will go to our +work and leave them alone. They will not find the way home again, and +we shall be rid of them.' 'No, wife,' said the man, 'I will not do +that; how can I bear to leave my children alone in the forest?--the +wild animals would soon come and tear them to pieces.' 'O, you fool!' +said she, 'then we must all four die of hunger, you may as well plane +the planks for our coffins,' and she left him no peace until he +consented. 'But I feel very sorry for the poor children, all the +same,' said the man. + +The two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had +heard what their stepmother had said to their father. Gretel wept +bitter tears, and said to Hansel: 'Now all is over with us.' 'Be +quiet, Gretel,' said Hansel, 'do not distress yourself, I will soon +find a way to help us.' And when the old folks had fallen asleep, he +got up, put on his little coat, opened the door below, and crept +outside. The moon shone brightly, and the white pebbles which lay in +front of the house glittered like real silver pennies. Hansel stooped +and stuffed the little pocket of his coat with as many as he could get +in. Then he went back and said to Gretel: 'Be comforted, dear little +sister, and sleep in peace, God will not forsake us,' and he lay down +again in his bed. When day dawned, but before the sun had risen, the +woman came and awoke the two children, saying: 'Get up, you sluggards! +we are going into the forest to fetch wood.' She gave each a little +piece of bread, and said: 'There is something for your dinner, but do +not eat it up before then, for you will get nothing else.' Gretel took +the bread under her apron, as Hansel had the pebbles in his pocket. +Then they all set out together on the way to the forest. When they had +walked a short time, Hansel stood still and peeped back at the house, +and did so again and again. His father said: 'Hansel, what are you +looking at there and staying behind for? Pay attention, and do not +forget how to use your legs.' 'Ah, father,' said Hansel, 'I am looking +at my little white cat, which is sitting up on the roof, and wants to +say goodbye to me.' The wife said: 'Fool, that is not your little cat, +that is the morning sun which is shining on the chimneys.' Hansel, +however, had not been looking back at the cat, but had been constantly +throwing one of the white pebble-stones out of his pocket on the road. + +When they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said: 'Now, +children, pile up some wood, and I will light a fire that you may not +be cold.' Hansel and Gretel gathered brushwood together, as high as a +little hill. The brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were +burning very high, the woman said: 'Now, children, lay yourselves down +by the fire and rest, we will go into the forest and cut some wood. +When we have done, we will come back and fetch you away.' + +Hansel and Gretel sat by the fire, and when noon came, each ate a +little piece of bread, and as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe +they believed that their father was near. It was not the axe, however, +but a branch which he had fastened to a withered tree which the wind +was blowing backwards and forwards. And as they had been sitting such +a long time, their eyes closed with fatigue, and they fell fast +asleep. When at last they awoke, it was already dark night. Gretel +began to cry and said: 'How are we to get out of the forest now?' But +Hansel comforted her and said: 'Just wait a little, until the moon has +risen, and then we will soon find the way.' And when the full moon had +risen, Hansel took his little sister by the hand, and followed the +pebbles which shone like newly-coined silver pieces, and showed them +the way. + +They walked the whole night long, and by break of day came once more +to their father's house. They knocked at the door, and when the woman +opened it and saw that it was Hansel and Gretel, she said: 'You +naughty children, why have you slept so long in the forest?--we +thought you were never coming back at all!' The father, however, +rejoiced, for it had cut him to the heart to leave them behind alone. + +Not long afterwards, there was once more great dearth throughout the +land, and the children heard their mother saying at night to their +father: 'Everything is eaten again, we have one half loaf left, and +that is the end. The children must go, we will take them farther into +the wood, so that they will not find their way out again; there is no +other means of saving ourselves!' The man's heart was heavy, and he +thought: 'It would be better for you to share the last mouthful with +your children.' The woman, however, would listen to nothing that he +had to say, but scolded and reproached him. He who says A must say B, +likewise, and as he had yielded the first time, he had to do so a +second time also. + +The children, however, were still awake and had heard the +conversation. When the old folks were asleep, Hansel again got up, and +wanted to go out and pick up pebbles as he had done before, but the +woman had locked the door, and Hansel could not get out. Nevertheless +he comforted his little sister, and said: 'Do not cry, Gretel, go to +sleep quietly, the good God will help us.' + +Early in the morning came the woman, and took the children out of +their beds. Their piece of bread was given to them, but it was still +smaller than the time before. On the way into the forest Hansel +crumbled his in his pocket, and often stood still and threw a morsel +on the ground. 'Hansel, why do you stop and look round?' said the +father, 'go on.' 'I am looking back at my little pigeon which is +sitting on the roof, and wants to say goodbye to me,' answered Hansel. +'Fool!' said the woman, 'that is not your little pigeon, that is the +morning sun that is shining on the chimney.' Hansel, however little by +little, threw all the crumbs on the path. + +The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they +had never in their lives been before. Then a great fire was again +made, and the mother said: 'Just sit there, you children, and when you +are tired you may sleep a little; we are going into the forest to cut +wood, and in the evening when we are done, we will come and fetch you +away.' When it was noon, Gretel shared her piece of bread with Hansel, +who had scattered his by the way. Then they fell asleep and evening +passed, but no one came to the poor children. They did not awake until +it was dark night, and Hansel comforted his little sister and said: +'Just wait, Gretel, until the moon rises, and then we shall see the +crumbs of bread which I have strewn about, they will show us our way +home again.' When the moon came they set out, but they found no +crumbs, for the many thousands of birds which fly about in the woods +and fields had picked them all up. Hansel said to Gretel: 'We shall +soon find the way,' but they did not find it. They walked the whole +night and all the next day too from morning till evening, but they did +not get out of the forest, and were very hungry, for they had nothing +to eat but two or three berries, which grew on the ground. And as they +were so weary that their legs would carry them no longer, they lay +down beneath a tree and fell asleep. + +It was now three mornings since they had left their father's house. +They began to walk again, but they always came deeper into the forest, +and if help did not come soon, they must die of hunger and weariness. +When it was mid-day, they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting on a +bough, which sang so delightfully that they stood still and listened +to it. And when its song was over, it spread its wings and flew away +before them, and they followed it until they reached a little house, +on the roof of which it alighted; and when they approached the little +house they saw that it was built of bread and covered with cakes, but +that the windows were of clear sugar. 'We will set to work on that,' +said Hansel, 'and have a good meal. I will eat a bit of the roof, and +you Gretel, can eat some of the window, it will taste sweet.' Hansel +reached up above, and broke off a little of the roof to try how it +tasted, and Gretel leant against the window and nibbled at the panes. +Then a soft voice cried from the parlour: + + 'Nibble, nibble, gnaw, + Who is nibbling at my little house?' + +The children answered: + + 'The wind, the wind, + The heaven-born wind,' + +and went on eating without disturbing themselves. Hansel, who liked +the taste of the roof, tore down a great piece of it, and Gretel +pushed out the whole of one round window-pane, sat down, and enjoyed +herself with it. Suddenly the door opened, and a woman as old as the +hills, who supported herself on crutches, came creeping out. Hansel +and Gretel were so terribly frightened that they let fall what they +had in their hands. The old woman, however, nodded her head, and said: +'Oh, you dear children, who has brought you here? do come in, and stay +with me. No harm shall happen to you.' She took them both by the hand, +and led them into her little house. Then good food was set before +them, milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts. Afterwards two +pretty little beds were covered with clean white linen, and Hansel and +Gretel lay down in them, and thought they were in heaven. + +The old woman had only pretended to be so kind; she was in reality a +wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had only built the +little house of bread in order to entice them there. When a child fell +into her power, she killed it, cooked and ate it, and that was a feast +day with her. Witches have red eyes, and cannot see far, but they have +a keen scent like the beasts, and are aware when human beings draw +near. When Hansel and Gretel came into her neighbourhood, she laughed +with malice, and said mockingly: 'I have them, they shall not escape +me again!' Early in the morning before the children were awake, she +was already up, and when she saw both of them sleeping and looking so +pretty, with their plump and rosy cheeks she muttered to herself: +'That will be a dainty mouthful!' Then she seized Hansel with her +shrivelled hand, carried him into a little stable, and locked him in +behind a grated door. Scream as he might, it would not help him. Then +she went to Gretel, shook her till she awoke, and cried: 'Get up, lazy +thing, fetch some water, and cook something good for your brother, he +is in the stable outside, and is to be made fat. When he is fat, I +will eat him.' Gretel began to weep bitterly, but it was all in vain, +for she was forced to do what the wicked witch commanded. + +And now the best food was cooked for poor Hansel, but Gretel got +nothing but crab-shells. Every morning the woman crept to the little +stable, and cried: 'Hansel, stretch out your finger that I may feel if +you will soon be fat.' Hansel, however, stretched out a little bone to +her, and the old woman, who had dim eyes, could not see it, and +thought it was Hansel's finger, and was astonished that there was no +way of fattening him. When four weeks had gone by, and Hansel still +remained thin, she was seized with impatience and would not wait any +longer. 'Now, then, Gretel,' she cried to the girl, 'stir yourself, +and bring some water. Let Hansel be fat or lean, tomorrow I will kill +him, and cook him.' Ah, how the poor little sister did lament when she +had to fetch the water, and how her tears did flow down her cheeks! +'Dear God, do help us,' she cried. 'If the wild beasts in the forest +had but devoured us, we should at any rate have died together.' 'Just +keep your noise to yourself,' said the old woman, 'it won't help you +at all.' + +Early in the morning, Gretel had to go out and hang up the cauldron +with the water, and light the fire. 'We will bake first,' said the old +woman, 'I have already heated the oven, and kneaded the dough.' She +pushed poor Gretel out to the oven, from which flames of fire were +already darting. 'Creep in,' said the witch, 'and see if it is +properly heated, so that we can put the bread in.' And once Gretel was +inside, she intended to shut the oven and let her bake in it, and then +she would eat her, too. But Gretel saw what she had in mind, and said: +'I do not know how I am to do it; how do I get in?' 'Silly goose,' +said the old woman. 'The door is big enough; just look, I can get in +myself!' and she crept up and thrust her head into the oven. Then +Gretel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and shut the iron +door, and fastened the bolt. Oh! then she began to howl quite +horribly, but Gretel ran away and the godless witch was miserably +burnt to death. + +Gretel, however, ran like lightning to Hansel, opened his little +stable, and cried: 'Hansel, we are saved! The old witch is dead!' Then +Hansel sprang like a bird from its cage when the door is opened. How +they did rejoice and embrace each other, and dance about and kiss each +other! And as they had no longer any need to fear her, they went into +the witch's house, and in every corner there stood chests full of +pearls and jewels. 'These are far better than pebbles!' said Hansel, +and thrust into his pockets whatever could be got in, and Gretel said: +'I, too, will take something home with me,' and filled her pinafore +full. 'But now we must be off,' said Hansel, 'that we may get out of +the witch's forest.' + +When they had walked for two hours, they came to a great stretch of +water. 'We cannot cross,' said Hansel, 'I see no foot-plank, and no +bridge.' 'And there is also no ferry,' answered Gretel, 'but a white +duck is swimming there: if I ask her, she will help us over.' Then she +cried: + + 'Little duck, little duck, dost thou see, + Hansel and Gretel are waiting for thee? + There's never a plank, or bridge in sight, + Take us across on thy back so white.' + +The duck came to them, and Hansel seated himself on its back, and told +his sister to sit by him. 'No,' replied Gretel, 'that will be too +heavy for the little duck; she shall take us across, one after the +other.' The good little duck did so, and when they were once safely +across and had walked for a short time, the forest seemed to be more +and more familiar to them, and at length they saw from afar their +father's house. Then they began to run, rushed into the parlour, and +threw themselves round their father's neck. The man had not known one +happy hour since he had left the children in the forest; the woman, +however, was dead. Gretel emptied her pinafore until pearls and +precious stones ran about the room, and Hansel threw one handful after +another out of his pocket to add to them. Then all anxiety was at an +end, and they lived together in perfect happiness. My tale is done, +there runs a mouse; whosoever catches it, may make himself a big fur +cap out of it. + + + +THE MOUSE, THE BIRD, AND THE SAUSAGE + +Once upon a time, a mouse, a bird, and a sausage, entered into +partnership and set up house together. For a long time all went well; +they lived in great comfort, and prospered so far as to be able to add +considerably to their stores. The bird's duty was to fly daily into +the wood and bring in fuel; the mouse fetched the water, and the +sausage saw to the cooking. + +When people are too well off they always begin to long for something +new. And so it came to pass, that the bird, while out one day, met a +fellow bird, to whom he boastfully expatiated on the excellence of his +household arrangements. But the other bird sneered at him for being a +poor simpleton, who did all the hard work, while the other two stayed +at home and had a good time of it. For, when the mouse had made the +fire and fetched in the water, she could retire into her little room +and rest until it was time to set the table. The sausage had only to +watch the pot to see that the food was properly cooked, and when it +was near dinner-time, he just threw himself into the broth, or rolled +in and out among the vegetables three or four times, and there they +were, buttered, and salted, and ready to be served. Then, when the +bird came home and had laid aside his burden, they sat down to table, +and when they had finished their meal, they could sleep their fill +till the following morning: and that was really a very delightful +life. + +Influenced by those remarks, the bird next morning refused to bring in +the wood, telling the others that he had been their servant long +enough, and had been a fool into the bargain, and that it was now time +to make a change, and to try some other way of arranging the work. Beg +and pray as the mouse and the sausage might, it was of no use; the +bird remained master of the situation, and the venture had to be made. +They therefore drew lots, and it fell to the sausage to bring in the +wood, to the mouse to cook, and to the bird to fetch the water. + +And now what happened? The sausage started in search of wood, the bird +made the fire, and the mouse put on the pot, and then these two waited +till the sausage returned with the fuel for the following day. But the +sausage remained so long away, that they became uneasy, and the bird +flew out to meet him. He had not flown far, however, when he came +across a dog who, having met the sausage, had regarded him as his +legitimate booty, and so seized and swallowed him. The bird complained +to the dog of this bare-faced robbery, but nothing he said was of any +avail, for the dog answered that he found false credentials on the +sausage, and that was the reason his life had been forfeited. + +He picked up the wood, and flew sadly home, and told the mouse all he +had seen and heard. They were both very unhappy, but agreed to make +the best of things and to remain with one another. + +So now the bird set the table, and the mouse looked after the food +and, wishing to prepare it in the same way as the sausage, by rolling +in and out among the vegetables to salt and butter them, she jumped +into the pot; but she stopped short long before she reached the +bottom, having already parted not only with her skin and hair, but +also with life. + +Presently the bird came in and wanted to serve up the dinner, but he +could nowhere see the cook. In his alarm and flurry, he threw the wood +here and there about the floor, called and searched, but no cook was +to be found. Then some of the wood that had been carelessly thrown +down, caught fire and began to blaze. The bird hastened to fetch some +water, but his pail fell into the well, and he after it, and as he was +unable to recover himself, he was drowned. + + + +MOTHER HOLLE + +Once upon a time there was a widow who had two daughters; one of them +was beautiful and industrious, the other ugly and lazy. The mother, +however, loved the ugly and lazy one best, because she was her own +daughter, and so the other, who was only her stepdaughter, was made to +do all the work of the house, and was quite the Cinderella of the +family. Her stepmother sent her out every day to sit by the well in +the high road, there to spin until she made her fingers bleed. Now it +chanced one day that some blood fell on to the spindle, and as the +girl stopped over the well to wash it off, the spindle suddenly sprang +out of her hand and fell into the well. She ran home crying to tell of +her misfortune, but her stepmother spoke harshly to her, and after +giving her a violent scolding, said unkindly, 'As you have let the +spindle fall into the well you may go yourself and fetch it out.' + +The girl went back to the well not knowing what to do, and at last in +her distress she jumped into the water after the spindle. + +She remembered nothing more until she awoke and found herself in a +beautiful meadow, full of sunshine, and with countless flowers +blooming in every direction. + +She walked over the meadow, and presently she came upon a baker's oven +full of bread, and the loaves cried out to her, 'Take us out, take us +out, or alas! we shall be burnt to a cinder; we were baked through +long ago.' So she took the bread-shovel and drew them all out. + +She went on a little farther, till she came to a free full of apples. +'Shake me, shake me, I pray,' cried the tree; 'my apples, one and all, +are ripe.' So she shook the tree, and the apples came falling down +upon her like rain; but she continued shaking until there was not a +single apple left upon it. Then she carefully gathered the apples +together in a heap and walked on again. + +The next thing she came to was a little house, and there she saw an +old woman looking out, with such large teeth, that she was terrified, +and turned to run away. But the old woman called after her, 'What are +you afraid of, dear child? Stay with me; if you will do the work of my +house properly for me, I will make you very happy. You must be very +careful, however, to make my bed in the right way, for I wish you +always to shake it thoroughly, so that the feathers fly about; then +they say, down there in the world, that it is snowing; for I am Mother +Holle.' The old woman spoke so kindly, that the girl summoned up +courage and agreed to enter into her service. + +She took care to do everything according to the old woman's bidding +and every time she made the bed she shook it with all her might, so +that the feathers flew about like so many snowflakes. The old woman +was as good as her word: she never spoke angrily to her, and gave her +roast and boiled meats every day. + +So she stayed on with Mother Holle for some time, and then she began +to grow unhappy. She could not at first tell why she felt sad, but she +became conscious at last of great longing to go home; then she knew +she was homesick, although she was a thousand times better off with +Mother Holle than with her mother and sister. After waiting awhile, +she went to Mother Holle and said, 'I am so homesick, that I cannot +stay with you any longer, for although I am so happy here, I must +return to my own people.' + +Then Mother Holle said, 'I am pleased that you should want to go back +to your own people, and as you have served me so well and faithfully, +I will take you home myself.' + +Thereupon she led the girl by the hand up to a broad gateway. The gate +was opened, and as the girl passed through, a shower of gold fell upon +her, and the gold clung to her, so that she was covered with it from +head to foot. + +'That is a reward for your industry,' said Mother Holle, and as she +spoke she handed her the spindle which she had dropped into the well. + +The gate was then closed, and the girl found herself back in the old +world close to her mother's house. As she entered the courtyard, the +cock who was perched on the well, called out: + + 'Cock-a-doodle-doo! + Your golden daughter's come back to you.' + +Then she went in to her mother and sister, and as she was so richly +covered with gold, they gave her a warm welcome. She related to them +all that had happened, and when the mother heard how she had come by +her great riches, she thought she should like her ugly, lazy daughter +to go and try her fortune. So she made the sister go and sit by the +well and spin, and the girl pricked her finger and thrust her hand +into a thorn-bush, so that she might drop some blood on to the +spindle; then she threw it into the well, and jumped in herself. + +Like her sister she awoke in the beautiful meadow, and walked over it +till she came to the oven. 'Take us out, take us out, or alas! we +shall be burnt to a cinder; we were baked through long ago,' cried the +loaves as before. But the lazy girl answered, 'Do you think I am going +to dirty my hands for you?' and walked on. + +Presently she came to the apple-tree. 'Shake me, shake me, I pray; my +apples, one and all, are ripe,' it cried. But she only answered, 'A +nice thing to ask me to do, one of the apples might fall on my head,' +and passed on. + +At last she came to Mother Holle's house, and as she had heard all +about the large teeth from her sister, she was not afraid of them, and +engaged herself without delay to the old woman. + +The first day she was very obedient and industrious, and exerted +herself to please Mother Holle, for she thought of the gold she should +get in return. The next day, however, she began to dawdle over her +work, and the third day she was more idle still; then she began to lie +in bed in the mornings and refused to get up. Worse still, she +neglected to make the old woman's bed properly, and forgot to shake it +so that the feathers might fly about. So Mother Holle very soon got +tired of her, and told her she might go. The lazy girl was delighted +at this, and thought to herself, 'The gold will soon be mine.' Mother +Holle led her, as she had led her sister, to the broad gateway; but as +she was passing through, instead of the shower of gold, a great +bucketful of pitch came pouring over her. + +'That is in return for your services,' said the old woman, and she +shut the gate. + +So the lazy girl had to go home covered with pitch, and the cock on +the well called out as she saw her: + + 'Cock-a-doodle-doo! + Your dirty daughter's come back to you.' + +But, try what she would, she could not get the pitch off and it stuck +to her as long as she lived. + + + +LITTLE RED-CAP [LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD] + +Once upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by +everyone who looked at her, but most of all by her grandmother, and +there was nothing that she would not have given to the child. Once she +gave her a little cap of red velvet, which suited her so well that she +would never wear anything else; so she was always called 'Little Red- +Cap.' + +One day her mother said to her: 'Come, Little Red-Cap, here is a piece +of cake and a bottle of wine; take them to your grandmother, she is +ill and weak, and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, +and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the +path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother +will get nothing; and when you go into her room, don't forget to say, +"Good morning", and don't peep into every corner before you do it.' + +'I will take great care,' said Little Red-Cap to her mother, and gave +her hand on it. + +The grandmother lived out in the wood, half a league from the village, +and just as Little Red-Cap entered the wood, a wolf met her. Red-Cap +did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid +of him. + +'Good day, Little Red-Cap,' said he. + +'Thank you kindly, wolf.' + +'Whither away so early, Little Red-Cap?' + +'To my grandmother's.' + +'What have you got in your apron?' + +'Cake and wine; yesterday was baking-day, so poor sick grandmother is +to have something good, to make her stronger.' + +'Where does your grandmother live, Little Red-Cap?' + +'A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood; her house stands +under the three large oak-trees, the nut-trees are just below; you +surely must know it,' replied Little Red-Cap. + +The wolf thought to himself: 'What a tender young creature! what a +nice plump mouthful--she will be better to eat than the old woman. I +must act craftily, so as to catch both.' So he walked for a short time +by the side of Little Red-Cap, and then he said: 'See, Little Red-Cap, +how pretty the flowers are about here--why do you not look round? I +believe, too, that you do not hear how sweetly the little birds are +singing; you walk gravely along as if you were going to school, while +everything else out here in the wood is merry.' + +Little Red-Cap raised her eyes, and when she saw the sunbeams dancing +here and there through the trees, and pretty flowers growing +everywhere, she thought: 'Suppose I take grandmother a fresh nosegay; +that would please her too. It is so early in the day that I shall +still get there in good time'; and so she ran from the path into the +wood to look for flowers. And whenever she had picked one, she fancied +that she saw a still prettier one farther on, and ran after it, and so +got deeper and deeper into the wood. + +Meanwhile the wolf ran straight to the grandmother's house and knocked +at the door. + +'Who is there?' + +'Little Red-Cap,' replied the wolf. 'She is bringing cake and wine; +open the door.' + +'Lift the latch,' called out the grandmother, 'I am too weak, and +cannot get up.' + +The wolf lifted the latch, the door sprang open, and without saying a +word he went straight to the grandmother's bed, and devoured her. Then +he put on her clothes, dressed himself in her cap laid himself in bed +and drew the curtains. + +Little Red-Cap, however, had been running about picking flowers, and +when she had gathered so many that she could carry no more, she +remembered her grandmother, and set out on the way to her. + +She was surprised to find the cottage-door standing open, and when she +went into the room, she had such a strange feeling that she said to +herself: 'Oh dear! how uneasy I feel today, and at other times I like +being with grandmother so much.' She called out: 'Good morning,' but +received no answer; so she went to the bed and drew back the curtains. +There lay her grandmother with her cap pulled far over her face, and +looking very strange. + +'Oh! grandmother,' she said, 'what big ears you have!' + +'The better to hear you with, my child,' was the reply. + +'But, grandmother, what big eyes you have!' she said. + +'The better to see you with, my dear.' + +'But, grandmother, what large hands you have!' + +'The better to hug you with.' + +'Oh! but, grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!' + +'The better to eat you with!' + +And scarcely had the wolf said this, than with one bound he was out of +bed and swallowed up Red-Cap. + +When the wolf had appeased his appetite, he lay down again in the bed, +fell asleep and began to snore very loud. The huntsman was just +passing the house, and thought to himself: 'How the old woman is +snoring! I must just see if she wants anything.' So he went into the +room, and when he came to the bed, he saw that the wolf was lying in +it. 'Do I find you here, you old sinner!' said he. 'I have long sought +you!' Then just as he was going to fire at him, it occurred to him +that the wolf might have devoured the grandmother, and that she might +still be saved, so he did not fire, but took a pair of scissors, and +began to cut open the stomach of the sleeping wolf. When he had made +two snips, he saw the little Red-Cap shining, and then he made two +snips more, and the little girl sprang out, crying: 'Ah, how +frightened I have been! How dark it was inside the wolf'; and after +that the aged grandmother came out alive also, but scarcely able to +breathe. Red-Cap, however, quickly fetched great stones with which +they filled the wolf's belly, and when he awoke, he wanted to run +away, but the stones were so heavy that he collapsed at once, and fell +dead. + +Then all three were delighted. The huntsman drew off the wolf's skin +and went home with it; the grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine +which Red-Cap had brought, and revived, but Red-Cap thought to +herself: 'As long as I live, I will never by myself leave the path, to +run into the wood, when my mother has forbidden me to do so.' + + + +It also related that once when Red-Cap was again taking cakes to the +old grandmother, another wolf spoke to her, and tried to entice her +from the path. Red-Cap, however, was on her guard, and went straight +forward on her way, and told her grandmother that she had met the +wolf, and that he had said 'good morning' to her, but with such a +wicked look in his eyes, that if they had not been on the public road +she was certain he would have eaten her up. 'Well,' said the +grandmother, 'we will shut the door, that he may not come in.' Soon +afterwards the wolf knocked, and cried: 'Open the door, grandmother, I +am Little Red-Cap, and am bringing you some cakes.' But they did not +speak, or open the door, so the grey-beard stole twice or thrice round +the house, and at last jumped on the roof, intending to wait until +Red-Cap went home in the evening, and then to steal after her and +devour her in the darkness. But the grandmother saw what was in his +thoughts. In front of the house was a great stone trough, so she said +to the child: 'Take the pail, Red-Cap; I made some sausages yesterday, +so carry the water in which I boiled them to the trough.' Red-Cap +carried until the great trough was quite full. Then the smell of the +sausages reached the wolf, and he sniffed and peeped down, and at last +stretched out his neck so far that he could no longer keep his footing +and began to slip, and slipped down from the roof straight into the +great trough, and was drowned. But Red-Cap went joyously home, and no +one ever did anything to harm her again. + + + +THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM + +There was once a miller who had one beautiful daughter, and as she was +grown up, he was anxious that she should be well married and provided +for. He said to himself, 'I will give her to the first suitable man +who comes and asks for her hand.' Not long after a suitor appeared, +and as he appeared to be very rich and the miller could see nothing in +him with which to find fault, he betrothed his daughter to him. But +the girl did not care for the man as a girl ought to care for her +betrothed husband. She did not feel that she could trust him, and she +could not look at him nor think of him without an inward shudder. One +day he said to her, 'You have not yet paid me a visit, although we +have been betrothed for some time.' 'I do not know where your house +is,' she answered. 'My house is out there in the dark forest,' he +said. She tried to excuse herself by saying that she would not be able +to find the way thither. Her betrothed only replied, 'You must come +and see me next Sunday; I have already invited guests for that day, +and that you may not mistake the way, I will strew ashes along the +path.' + +When Sunday came, and it was time for the girl to start, a feeling of +dread came over her which she could not explain, and that she might be +able to find her path again, she filled her pockets with peas and +lentils to sprinkle on the ground as she went along. On reaching the +entrance to the forest she found the path strewed with ashes, and +these she followed, throwing down some peas on either side of her at +every step she took. She walked the whole day until she came to the +deepest, darkest part of the forest. There she saw a lonely house, +looking so grim and mysterious, that it did not please her at all. She +stepped inside, but not a soul was to be seen, and a great silence +reigned throughout. Suddenly a voice cried: + + 'Turn back, turn back, young maiden fair, + Linger not in this murderers' lair.' + +The girl looked up and saw that the voice came from a bird hanging in +a cage on the wall. Again it cried: + + 'Turn back, turn back, young maiden fair, + Linger not in this murderers' lair.' + +The girl passed on, going from room to room of the house, but they +were all empty, and still she saw no one. At last she came to the +cellar, and there sat a very, very old woman, who could not keep her +head from shaking. 'Can you tell me,' asked the girl, 'if my betrothed +husband lives here?' + +'Ah, you poor child,' answered the old woman, 'what a place for you to +come to! This is a murderers' den. You think yourself a promised +bride, and that your marriage will soon take place, but it is with +death that you will keep your marriage feast. Look, do you see that +large cauldron of water which I am obliged to keep on the fire! As +soon as they have you in their power they will kill you without mercy, +and cook and eat you, for they are eaters of men. If I did not take +pity on you and save you, you would be lost.' + +Thereupon the old woman led her behind a large cask, which quite hid +her from view. 'Keep as still as a mouse,' she said; 'do not move or +speak, or it will be all over with you. Tonight, when the robbers are +all asleep, we will flee together. I have long been waiting for an +opportunity to escape.' + +The words were hardly out of her mouth when the godless crew returned, +dragging another young girl along with them. They were all drunk, and +paid no heed to her cries and lamentations. They gave her wine to +drink, three glasses full, one of white wine, one of red, and one of +yellow, and with that her heart gave way and she died. Then they tore +of her dainty clothing, laid her on a table, and cut her beautiful +body into pieces, and sprinkled salt upon it. + +The poor betrothed girl crouched trembling and shuddering behind the +cask, for she saw what a terrible fate had been intended for her by +the robbers. One of them now noticed a gold ring still remaining on +the little finger of the murdered girl, and as he could not draw it +off easily, he took a hatchet and cut off the finger; but the finger +sprang into the air, and fell behind the cask into the lap of the girl +who was hiding there. The robber took a light and began looking for +it, but he could not find it. 'Have you looked behind the large cask?' +said one of the others. But the old woman called out, 'Come and eat +your suppers, and let the thing be till tomorrow; the finger won't run +away.' + +'The old woman is right,' said the robbers, and they ceased looking +for the finger and sat down. + +The old woman then mixed a sleeping draught with their wine, and +before long they were all lying on the floor of the cellar, fast +asleep and snoring. As soon as the girl was assured of this, she came +from behind the cask. She was obliged to step over the bodies of the +sleepers, who were lying close together, and every moment she was +filled with renewed dread lest she should awaken them. But God helped +her, so that she passed safely over them, and then she and the old +woman went upstairs, opened the door, and hastened as fast as they +could from the murderers' den. They found the ashes scattered by the +wind, but the peas and lentils had sprouted, and grown sufficiently +above the ground, to guide them in the moonlight along the path. All +night long they walked, and it was morning before they reached the +mill. Then the girl told her father all that had happened. + +The day came that had been fixed for the marriage. The bridegroom +arrived and also a large company of guests, for the miller had taken +care to invite all his friends and relations. As they sat at the +feast, each guest in turn was asked to tell a tale; the bride sat +still and did not say a word. + +'And you, my love,' said the bridegroom, turning to her, 'is there no +tale you know? Tell us something.' + +'I will tell you a dream, then,' said the bride. 'I went alone through +a forest and came at last to a house; not a soul could I find within, +but a bird that was hanging in a cage on the wall cried: + + 'Turn back, turn back, young maiden fair, + Linger not in this murderers' lair.' + +and again a second time it said these words.' + +'My darling, this is only a dream.' + +'I went on through the house from room to room, but they were all +empty, and everything was so grim and mysterious. At last I went down +to the cellar, and there sat a very, very old woman, who could not +keep her head still. I asked her if my betrothed lived here, and she +answered, "Ah, you poor child, you are come to a murderers' den; your +betrothed does indeed live here, but he will kill you without mercy +and afterwards cook and eat you."' + +'My darling, this is only a dream.' + +'The old woman hid me behind a large cask, and scarcely had she done +this when the robbers returned home, dragging a young girl along with +them. They gave her three kinds of wine to drink, white, red, and +yellow, and with that she died.' + +'My darling, this is only a dream.' + +'Then they tore off her dainty clothing, and cut her beautiful body +into pieces and sprinkled salt upon it.' + +'My darling, this is only a dream.' + +'And one of the robbers saw that there was a gold ring still left on +her finger, and as it was difficult to draw off, he took a hatchet and +cut off her finger; but the finger sprang into the air and fell behind +the great cask into my lap. And here is the finger with the ring.' and +with these words the bride drew forth the finger and shewed it to the +assembled guests. + +The bridegroom, who during this recital had grown deadly pale, up and +tried to escape, but the guests seized him and held him fast. They +delivered him up to justice, and he and all his murderous band were +condemned to death for their wicked deeds. + + + +TOM THUMB + +A poor woodman sat in his cottage one night, smoking his pipe by the +fireside, while his wife sat by his side spinning. 'How lonely it is, +wife,' said he, as he puffed out a long curl of smoke, 'for you and me +to sit here by ourselves, without any children to play about and amuse +us while other people seem so happy and merry with their children!' +'What you say is very true,' said the wife, sighing, and turning round +her wheel; 'how happy should I be if I had but one child! If it were +ever so small--nay, if it were no bigger than my thumb--I should be +very happy, and love it dearly.' Now--odd as you may think it--it came +to pass that this good woman's wish was fulfilled, just in the very +way she had wished it; for, not long afterwards, she had a little boy, +who was quite healthy and strong, but was not much bigger than my +thumb. So they said, 'Well, we cannot say we have not got what we +wished for, and, little as he is, we will love him dearly.' And they +called him Thomas Thumb. + +They gave him plenty of food, yet for all they could do he never grew +bigger, but kept just the same size as he had been when he was born. +Still, his eyes were sharp and sparkling, and he soon showed himself +to be a clever little fellow, who always knew well what he was about. + +One day, as the woodman was getting ready to go into the wood to cut +fuel, he said, 'I wish I had someone to bring the cart after me, for I +want to make haste.' 'Oh, father,' cried Tom, 'I will take care of +that; the cart shall be in the wood by the time you want it.' Then the +woodman laughed, and said, 'How can that be? you cannot reach up to +the horse's bridle.' 'Never mind that, father,' said Tom; 'if my +mother will only harness the horse, I will get into his ear and tell +him which way to go.' 'Well,' said the father, 'we will try for once.' + +When the time came the mother harnessed the horse to the cart, and put +Tom into his ear; and as he sat there the little man told the beast +how to go, crying out, 'Go on!' and 'Stop!' as he wanted: and thus the +horse went on just as well as if the woodman had driven it himself +into the wood. It happened that as the horse was going a little too +fast, and Tom was calling out, 'Gently! gently!' two strangers came +up. 'What an odd thing that is!' said one: 'there is a cart going +along, and I hear a carter talking to the horse, but yet I can see no +one.' 'That is queer, indeed,' said the other; 'let us follow the +cart, and see where it goes.' So they went on into the wood, till at +last they came to the place where the woodman was. Then Tom Thumb, +seeing his father, cried out, 'See, father, here I am with the cart, +all right and safe! now take me down!' So his father took hold of the +horse with one hand, and with the other took his son out of the +horse's ear, and put him down upon a straw, where he sat as merry as +you please. + +The two strangers were all this time looking on, and did not know what +to say for wonder. At last one took the other aside, and said, 'That +little urchin will make our fortune, if we can get him, and carry him +about from town to town as a show; we must buy him.' So they went up +to the woodman, and asked him what he would take for the little man. +'He will be better off,' said they, 'with us than with you.' 'I won't +sell him at all,' said the father; 'my own flesh and blood is dearer +to me than all the silver and gold in the world.' But Tom, hearing of +the bargain they wanted to make, crept up his father's coat to his +shoulder and whispered in his ear, 'Take the money, father, and let +them have me; I'll soon come back to you.' + +So the woodman at last said he would sell Tom to the strangers for a +large piece of gold, and they paid the price. 'Where would you like to +sit?' said one of them. 'Oh, put me on the rim of your hat; that will +be a nice gallery for me; I can walk about there and see the country +as we go along.' So they did as he wished; and when Tom had taken +leave of his father they took him away with them. + +They journeyed on till it began to be dusky, and then the little man +said, 'Let me get down, I'm tired.' So the man took off his hat, and +put him down on a clod of earth, in a ploughed field by the side of +the road. But Tom ran about amongst the furrows, and at last slipped +into an old mouse-hole. 'Good night, my masters!' said he, 'I'm off! +mind and look sharp after me the next time.' Then they ran at once to +the place, and poked the ends of their sticks into the mouse-hole, but +all in vain; Tom only crawled farther and farther in; and at last it +became quite dark, so that they were forced to go their way without +their prize, as sulky as could be. + +When Tom found they were gone, he came out of his hiding-place. 'What +dangerous walking it is,' said he, 'in this ploughed field! If I were +to fall from one of these great clods, I should undoubtedly break my +neck.' At last, by good luck, he found a large empty snail-shell. +'This is lucky,' said he, 'I can sleep here very well'; and in he +crept. + +Just as he was falling asleep, he heard two men passing by, chatting +together; and one said to the other, 'How can we rob that rich +parson's house of his silver and gold?' 'I'll tell you!' cried Tom. +'What noise was that?' said the thief, frightened; 'I'm sure I heard +someone speak.' They stood still listening, and Tom said, 'Take me +with you, and I'll soon show you how to get the parson's money.' 'But +where are you?' said they. 'Look about on the ground,' answered he, +'and listen where the sound comes from.' At last the thieves found him +out, and lifted him up in their hands. 'You little urchin!' they said, +'what can you do for us?' 'Why, I can get between the iron window-bars +of the parson's house, and throw you out whatever you want.' 'That's a +good thought,' said the thieves; 'come along, we shall see what you +can do.' + +When they came to the parson's house, Tom slipped through the window- +bars into the room, and then called out as loud as he could bawl, +'Will you have all that is here?' At this the thieves were frightened, +and said, 'Softly, softly! Speak low, that you may not awaken +anybody.' But Tom seemed as if he did not understand them, and bawled +out again, 'How much will you have? Shall I throw it all out?' Now the +cook lay in the next room; and hearing a noise she raised herself up +in her bed and listened. Meantime the thieves were frightened, and ran +off a little way; but at last they plucked up their hearts, and said, +'The little urchin is only trying to make fools of us.' So they came +back and whispered softly to him, saying, 'Now let us have no more of +your roguish jokes; but throw us out some of the money.' Then Tom +called out as loud as he could, 'Very well! hold your hands! here it +comes.' + +The cook heard this quite plain, so she sprang out of bed, and ran to +open the door. The thieves ran off as if a wolf was at their tails: +and the maid, having groped about and found nothing, went away for a +light. By the time she came back, Tom had slipped off into the barn; +and when she had looked about and searched every hole and corner, and +found nobody, she went to bed, thinking she must have been dreaming +with her eyes open. + +The little man crawled about in the hay-loft, and at last found a snug +place to finish his night's rest in; so he laid himself down, meaning +to sleep till daylight, and then find his way home to his father and +mother. But alas! how woefully he was undone! what crosses and sorrows +happen to us all in this world! The cook got up early, before +daybreak, to feed the cows; and going straight to the hay-loft, +carried away a large bundle of hay, with the little man in the middle +of it, fast asleep. He still, however, slept on, and did not awake +till he found himself in the mouth of the cow; for the cook had put +the hay into the cow's rick, and the cow had taken Tom up in a +mouthful of it. 'Good lack-a-day!' said he, 'how came I to tumble into +the mill?' But he soon found out where he really was; and was forced +to have all his wits about him, that he might not get between the +cow's teeth, and so be crushed to death. At last down he went into her +stomach. 'It is rather dark,' said he; 'they forgot to build windows +in this room to let the sun in; a candle would be no bad thing.' + +Though he made the best of his bad luck, he did not like his quarters +at all; and the worst of it was, that more and more hay was always +coming down, and the space left for him became smaller and smaller. At +last he cried out as loud as he could, 'Don't bring me any more hay! +Don't bring me any more hay!' + +The maid happened to be just then milking the cow; and hearing someone +speak, but seeing nobody, and yet being quite sure it was the same +voice that she had heard in the night, she was so frightened that she +fell off her stool, and overset the milk-pail. As soon as she could +pick herself up out of the dirt, she ran off as fast as she could to +her master the parson, and said, 'Sir, sir, the cow is talking!' But +the parson said, 'Woman, thou art surely mad!' However, he went with +her into the cow-house, to try and see what was the matter. + +Scarcely had they set foot on the threshold, when Tom called out, +'Don't bring me any more hay!' Then the parson himself was frightened; +and thinking the cow was surely bewitched, told his man to kill her on +the spot. So the cow was killed, and cut up; and the stomach, in which +Tom lay, was thrown out upon a dunghill. + +Tom soon set himself to work to get out, which was not a very easy +task; but at last, just as he had made room to get his head out, fresh +ill-luck befell him. A hungry wolf sprang out, and swallowed up the +whole stomach, with Tom in it, at one gulp, and ran away. + +Tom, however, was still not disheartened; and thinking the wolf would +not dislike having some chat with him as he was going along, he called +out, 'My good friend, I can show you a famous treat.' 'Where's that?' +said the wolf. 'In such and such a house,' said Tom, describing his +own father's house. 'You can crawl through the drain into the kitchen +and then into the pantry, and there you will find cakes, ham, beef, +cold chicken, roast pig, apple-dumplings, and everything that your +heart can wish.' + +The wolf did not want to be asked twice; so that very night he went to +the house and crawled through the drain into the kitchen, and then +into the pantry, and ate and drank there to his heart's content. As +soon as he had had enough he wanted to get away; but he had eaten so +much that he could not go out by the same way he came in. + +This was just what Tom had reckoned upon; and now he began to set up a +great shout, making all the noise he could. 'Will you be easy?' said +the wolf; 'you'll awaken everybody in the house if you make such a +clatter.' 'What's that to me?' said the little man; 'you have had your +frolic, now I've a mind to be merry myself'; and he began, singing and +shouting as loud as he could. + +The woodman and his wife, being awakened by the noise, peeped through +a crack in the door; but when they saw a wolf was there, you may well +suppose that they were sadly frightened; and the woodman ran for his +axe, and gave his wife a scythe. 'Do you stay behind,' said the +woodman, 'and when I have knocked him on the head you must rip him up +with the scythe.' Tom heard all this, and cried out, 'Father, father! +I am here, the wolf has swallowed me.' And his father said, 'Heaven be +praised! we have found our dear child again'; and he told his wife not +to use the scythe for fear she should hurt him. Then he aimed a great +blow, and struck the wolf on the head, and killed him on the spot! and +when he was dead they cut open his body, and set Tommy free. 'Ah!' +said the father, 'what fears we have had for you!' 'Yes, father,' +answered he; 'I have travelled all over the world, I think, in one way +or other, since we parted; and now I am very glad to come home and get +fresh air again.' 'Why, where have you been?' said his father. 'I have +been in a mouse-hole--and in a snail-shell--and down a cow's throat-- +and in the wolf's belly; and yet here I am again, safe and sound.' + +'Well,' said they, 'you are come back, and we will not sell you again +for all the riches in the world.' + +Then they hugged and kissed their dear little son, and gave him plenty +to eat and drink, for he was very hungry; and then they fetched new +clothes for him, for his old ones had been quite spoiled on his +journey. So Master Thumb stayed at home with his father and mother, in +peace; for though he had been so great a traveller, and had done and +seen so many fine things, and was fond enough of telling the whole +story, he always agreed that, after all, there's no place like HOME! + + + +RUMPELSTILTSKIN + +By the side of a wood, in a country a long way off, ran a fine stream +of water; and upon the stream there stood a mill. The miller's house +was close by, and the miller, you must know, had a very beautiful +daughter. She was, moreover, very shrewd and clever; and the miller +was so proud of her, that he one day told the king of the land, who +used to come and hunt in the wood, that his daughter could spin gold +out of straw. Now this king was very fond of money; and when he heard +the miller's boast his greediness was raised, and he sent for the girl +to be brought before him. Then he led her to a chamber in his palace +where there was a great heap of straw, and gave her a spinning-wheel, +and said, 'All this must be spun into gold before morning, as you love +your life.' It was in vain that the poor maiden said that it was only +a silly boast of her father, for that she could do no such thing as +spin straw into gold: the chamber door was locked, and she was left +alone. + +She sat down in one corner of the room, and began to bewail her hard +fate; when on a sudden the door opened, and a droll-looking little man +hobbled in, and said, 'Good morrow to you, my good lass; what are you +weeping for?' 'Alas!' said she, 'I must spin this straw into gold, and +I know not how.' 'What will you give me,' said the hobgoblin, 'to do +it for you?' 'My necklace,' replied the maiden. He took her at her +word, and sat himself down to the wheel, and whistled and sang: + + 'Round about, round about, + Lo and behold! + Reel away, reel away, + Straw into gold!' + +And round about the wheel went merrily; the work was quickly done, and +the straw was all spun into gold. + +When the king came and saw this, he was greatly astonished and +pleased; but his heart grew still more greedy of gain, and he shut up +the poor miller's daughter again with a fresh task. Then she knew not +what to do, and sat down once more to weep; but the dwarf soon opened +the door, and said, 'What will you give me to do your task?' 'The ring +on my finger,' said she. So her little friend took the ring, and began +to work at the wheel again, and whistled and sang: + + 'Round about, round about, + Lo and behold! + Reel away, reel away, + Straw into gold!' + +till, long before morning, all was done again. + +The king was greatly delighted to see all this glittering treasure; +but still he had not enough: so he took the miller's daughter to a yet +larger heap, and said, 'All this must be spun tonight; and if it is, +you shall be my queen.' As soon as she was alone that dwarf came in, +and said, 'What will you give me to spin gold for you this third +time?' 'I have nothing left,' said she. 'Then say you will give me,' +said the little man, 'the first little child that you may have when +you are queen.' 'That may never be,' thought the miller's daughter: +and as she knew no other way to get her task done, she said she would +do what he asked. Round went the wheel again to the old song, and the +manikin once more spun the heap into gold. The king came in the +morning, and, finding all he wanted, was forced to keep his word; so +he married the miller's daughter, and she really became queen. + +At the birth of her first little child she was very glad, and forgot +the dwarf, and what she had said. But one day he came into her room, +where she was sitting playing with her baby, and put her in mind of +it. Then she grieved sorely at her misfortune, and said she would give +him all the wealth of the kingdom if he would let her off, but in +vain; till at last her tears softened him, and he said, 'I will give +you three days' grace, and if during that time you tell me my name, +you shall keep your child.' + +Now the queen lay awake all night, thinking of all the odd names that +she had ever heard; and she sent messengers all over the land to find +out new ones. The next day the little man came, and she began with +TIMOTHY, ICHABOD, BENJAMIN, JEREMIAH, and all the names she could +remember; but to all and each of them he said, 'Madam, that is not my +name.' + +The second day she began with all the comical names she could hear of, +BANDY-LEGS, HUNCHBACK, CROOK-SHANKS, and so on; but the little +gentleman still said to every one of them, 'Madam, that is not my +name.' + +The third day one of the messengers came back, and said, 'I have +travelled two days without hearing of any other names; but yesterday, +as I was climbing a high hill, among the trees of the forest where the +fox and the hare bid each other good night, I saw a little hut; and +before the hut burnt a fire; and round about the fire a funny little +dwarf was dancing upon one leg, and singing: + + '"Merrily the feast I'll make. + Today I'll brew, tomorrow bake; + Merrily I'll dance and sing, + For next day will a stranger bring. + Little does my lady dream + Rumpelstiltskin is my name!"' + +When the queen heard this she jumped for joy, and as soon as her +little friend came she sat down upon her throne, and called all her +court round to enjoy the fun; and the nurse stood by her side with the +baby in her arms, as if it was quite ready to be given up. Then the +little man began to chuckle at the thought of having the poor child, +to take home with him to his hut in the woods; and he cried out, 'Now, +lady, what is my name?' 'Is it JOHN?' asked she. 'No, madam!' 'Is it +TOM?' 'No, madam!' 'Is it JEMMY?' 'It is not.' 'Can your name be +RUMPELSTILTSKIN?' said the lady slyly. 'Some witch told you that!-- +some witch told you that!' cried the little man, and dashed his right +foot in a rage so deep into the floor, that he was forced to lay hold +of it with both hands to pull it out. + +Then he made the best of his way off, while the nurse laughed and the +baby crowed; and all the court jeered at him for having had so much +trouble for nothing, and said, 'We wish you a very good morning, and a +merry feast, Mr RUMPLESTILTSKIN!' + + + +CLEVER GRETEL + +There was once a cook named Gretel, who wore shoes with red heels, and +when she walked out with them on, she turned herself this way and +that, was quite happy and thought: 'You certainly are a pretty girl!' +And when she came home she drank, in her gladness of heart, a draught +of wine, and as wine excites a desire to eat, she tasted the best of +whatever she was cooking until she was satisfied, and said: 'The cook +must know what the food is like.' + +It came to pass that the master one day said to her: 'Gretel, there is +a guest coming this evening; prepare me two fowls very daintily.' 'I +will see to it, master,' answered Gretel. She killed two fowls, +scalded them, plucked them, put them on the spit, and towards evening +set them before the fire, that they might roast. The fowls began to +turn brown, and were nearly ready, but the guest had not yet arrived. +Then Gretel called out to her master: 'If the guest does not come, I +must take the fowls away from the fire, but it will be a sin and a +shame if they are not eaten the moment they are at their juiciest.' +The master said: 'I will run myself, and fetch the guest.' When the +master had turned his back, Gretel laid the spit with the fowls on one +side, and thought: 'Standing so long by the fire there, makes one +sweat and thirsty; who knows when they will come? Meanwhile, I will +run into the cellar, and take a drink.' She ran down, set a jug, said: +'God bless it for you, Gretel,' and took a good drink, and thought +that wine should flow on, and should not be interrupted, and took yet +another hearty draught. + +Then she went and put the fowls down again to the fire, basted them, +and drove the spit merrily round. But as the roast meat smelt so good, +Gretel thought: 'Something might be wrong, it ought to be tasted!' She +touched it with her finger, and said: 'Ah! how good fowls are! It +certainly is a sin and a shame that they are not eaten at the right +time!' She ran to the window, to see if the master was not coming with +his guest, but she saw no one, and went back to the fowls and thought: +'One of the wings is burning! I had better take it off and eat it.' So +she cut it off, ate it, and enjoyed it, and when she had done, she +thought: 'The other must go down too, or else master will observe that +something is missing.' When the two wings were eaten, she went and +looked for her master, and did not see him. It suddenly occurred to +her: 'Who knows? They are perhaps not coming at all, and have turned +in somewhere.' Then she said: 'Well, Gretel, enjoy yourself, one fowl +has been cut into, take another drink, and eat it up entirely; when it +is eaten you will have some peace, why should God's good gifts be +spoilt?' So she ran into the cellar again, took an enormous drink and +ate up the one chicken in great glee. When one of the chickens was +swallowed down, and still her master did not come, Gretel looked at +the other and said: 'What one is, the other should be likewise, the +two go together; what's right for the one is right for the other; I +think if I were to take another draught it would do me no harm.' So +she took another hearty drink, and let the second chicken follow the +first. + +While she was making the most of it, her master came and cried: 'Hurry +up, Gretel, the guest is coming directly after me!' 'Yes, sir, I will +soon serve up,' answered Gretel. Meantime the master looked to see +what the table was properly laid, and took the great knife, wherewith +he was going to carve the chickens, and sharpened it on the steps. +Presently the guest came, and knocked politely and courteously at the +house-door. Gretel ran, and looked to see who was there, and when she +saw the guest, she put her finger to her lips and said: 'Hush! hush! +go away as quickly as you can, if my master catches you it will be the +worse for you; he certainly did ask you to supper, but his intention +is to cut off your two ears. Just listen how he is sharpening the +knife for it!' The guest heard the sharpening, and hurried down the +steps again as fast as he could. Gretel was not idle; she ran +screaming to her master, and cried: 'You have invited a fine guest!' +'Why, Gretel? What do you mean by that?' 'Yes,' said she, 'he has +taken the chickens which I was just going to serve up, off the dish, +and has run away with them!' 'That's a nice trick!' said her master, +and lamented the fine chickens. 'If he had but left me one, so that +something remained for me to eat.' He called to him to stop, but the +guest pretended not to hear. Then he ran after him with the knife +still in his hand, crying: 'Just one, just one,' meaning that the +guest should leave him just one chicken, and not take both. The guest, +however, thought no otherwise than that he was to give up one of his +ears, and ran as if fire were burning under him, in order to take them +both with him. + + + +THE OLD MAN AND HIS GRANDSON + +There was once a very old man, whose eyes had become dim, his ears +dull of hearing, his knees trembled, and when he sat at table he could +hardly hold the spoon, and spilt the broth upon the table-cloth or let +it run out of his mouth. His son and his son's wife were disgusted at +this, so the old grandfather at last had to sit in the corner behind +the stove, and they gave him his food in an earthenware bowl, and not +even enough of it. And he used to look towards the table with his eyes +full of tears. Once, too, his trembling hands could not hold the bowl, +and it fell to the ground and broke. The young wife scolded him, but +he said nothing and only sighed. Then they brought him a wooden bowl +for a few half-pence, out of which he had to eat. + +They were once sitting thus when the little grandson of four years old +began to gather together some bits of wood upon the ground. 'What are +you doing there?' asked the father. 'I am making a little trough,' +answered the child, 'for father and mother to eat out of when I am +big.' + +The man and his wife looked at each other for a while, and presently +began to cry. Then they took the old grandfather to the table, and +henceforth always let him eat with them, and likewise said nothing if +he did spill a little of anything. + + + +THE LITTLE PEASANT + +There was a certain village wherein no one lived but really rich +peasants, and just one poor one, whom they called the little peasant. +He had not even so much as a cow, and still less money to buy one, and +yet he and his wife did so wish to have one. One day he said to her: +'Listen, I have a good idea, there is our gossip the carpenter, he +shall make us a wooden calf, and paint it brown, so that it looks like +any other, and in time it will certainly get big and be a cow.' the +woman also liked the idea, and their gossip the carpenter cut and +planed the calf, and painted it as it ought to be, and made it with +its head hanging down as if it were eating. + +Next morning when the cows were being driven out, the little peasant +called the cow-herd in and said: 'Look, I have a little calf there, +but it is still small and has to be carried.' The cow-herd said: 'All +right,' and took it in his arms and carried it to the pasture, and set +it among the grass. The little calf always remained standing like one +which was eating, and the cow-herd said: 'It will soon run by itself, +just look how it eats already!' At night when he was going to drive +the herd home again, he said to the calf: 'If you can stand there and +eat your fill, you can also go on your four legs; I don't care to drag +you home again in my arms.' But the little peasant stood at his door, +and waited for his little calf, and when the cow-herd drove the cows +through the village, and the calf was missing, he inquired where it +was. The cow-herd answered: 'It is still standing out there eating. It +would not stop and come with us.' But the little peasant said: 'Oh, +but I must have my beast back again.' Then they went back to the +meadow together, but someone had stolen the calf, and it was gone. The +cow-herd said: 'It must have run away.' The peasant, however, said: +'Don't tell me that,' and led the cow-herd before the mayor, who for +his carelessness condemned him to give the peasant a cow for the calf +which had run away. + +And now the little peasant and his wife had the cow for which they had +so long wished, and they were heartily glad, but they had no food for +it, and could give it nothing to eat, so it soon had to be killed. +They salted the flesh, and the peasant went into the town and wanted +to sell the skin there, so that he might buy a new calf with the +proceeds. On the way he passed by a mill, and there sat a raven with +broken wings, and out of pity he took him and wrapped him in the skin. +But as the weather grew so bad and there was a storm of rain and wind, +he could go no farther, and turned back to the mill and begged for +shelter. The miller's wife was alone in the house, and said to the +peasant: 'Lay yourself on the straw there,' and gave him a slice of +bread and cheese. The peasant ate it, and lay down with his skin +beside him, and the woman thought: 'He is tired and has gone to +sleep.' In the meantime came the parson; the miller's wife received +him well, and said: 'My husband is out, so we will have a feast.' The +peasant listened, and when he heard them talk about feasting he was +vexed that he had been forced to make shift with a slice of bread and +cheese. Then the woman served up four different things, roast meat, +salad, cakes, and wine. + +Just as they were about to sit down and eat, there was a knocking +outside. The woman said: 'Oh, heavens! It is my husband!' she quickly +hid the roast meat inside the tiled stove, the wine under the pillow, +the salad on the bed, the cakes under it, and the parson in the closet +on the porch. Then she opened the door for her husband, and said: +'Thank heaven, you are back again! There is such a storm, it looks as +if the world were coming to an end.' The miller saw the peasant lying +on the straw, and asked, 'What is that fellow doing there?' 'Ah,' said +the wife, 'the poor knave came in the storm and rain, and begged for +shelter, so I gave him a bit of bread and cheese, and showed him where +the straw was.' The man said: 'I have no objection, but be quick and +get me something to eat.' The woman said: 'But I have nothing but +bread and cheese.' 'I am contented with anything,' replied the +husband, 'so far as I am concerned, bread and cheese will do,' and +looked at the peasant and said: 'Come and eat some more with me.' The +peasant did not require to be invited twice, but got up and ate. After +this the miller saw the skin in which the raven was, lying on the +ground, and asked: 'What have you there?' The peasant answered: 'I +have a soothsayer inside it.' 'Can he foretell anything to me?' said +the miller. 'Why not?' answered the peasant: 'but he only says four +things, and the fifth he keeps to himself.' The miller was curious, +and said: 'Let him foretell something for once.' Then the peasant +pinched the raven's head, so that he croaked and made a noise like +krr, krr. The miller said: 'What did he say?' The peasant answered: +'In the first place, he says that there is some wine hidden under the +pillow.' 'Bless me!' cried the miller, and went there and found the +wine. 'Now go on,' said he. The peasant made the raven croak again, +and said: 'In the second place, he says that there is some roast meat +in the tiled stove.' 'Upon my word!' cried the miller, and went +thither, and found the roast meat. The peasant made the raven prophesy +still more, and said: 'Thirdly, he says that there is some salad on +the bed.' 'That would be a fine thing!' cried the miller, and went +there and found the salad. At last the peasant pinched the raven once +more till he croaked, and said: 'Fourthly, he says that there are some +cakes under the bed.' 'That would be a fine thing!' cried the miller, +and looked there, and found the cakes. + +And now the two sat down to the table together, but the miller's wife +was frightened to death, and went to bed and took all the keys with +her. The miller would have liked much to know the fifth, but the +little peasant said: 'First, we will quickly eat the four things, for +the fifth is something bad.' So they ate, and after that they +bargained how much the miller was to give for the fifth prophecy, +until they agreed on three hundred talers. Then the peasant once more +pinched the raven's head till he croaked loudly. The miller asked: +'What did he say?' The peasant replied: 'He says that the Devil is +hiding outside there in the closet on the porch.' The miller said: +'The Devil must go out,' and opened the house-door; then the woman was +forced to give up the keys, and the peasant unlocked the closet. The +parson ran out as fast as he could, and the miller said: 'It was true; +I saw the black rascal with my own eyes.' The peasant, however, made +off next morning by daybreak with the three hundred talers. + +At home the small peasant gradually launched out; he built a beautiful +house, and the peasants said: 'The small peasant has certainly been to +the place where golden snow falls, and people carry the gold home in +shovels.' Then the small peasant was brought before the mayor, and +bidden to say from whence his wealth came. He answered: 'I sold my +cow's skin in the town, for three hundred talers.' When the peasants +heard that, they too wished to enjoy this great profit, and ran home, +killed all their cows, and stripped off their skins in order to sell +them in the town to the greatest advantage. The mayor, however, said: +'But my servant must go first.' When she came to the merchant in the +town, he did not give her more than two talers for a skin, and when +the others came, he did not give them so much, and said: 'What can I +do with all these skins?' + +Then the peasants were vexed that the small peasant should have thus +outwitted them, wanted to take vengeance on him, and accused him of +this treachery before the major. The innocent little peasant was +unanimously sentenced to death, and was to be rolled into the water, +in a barrel pierced full of holes. He was led forth, and a priest was +brought who was to say a mass for his soul. The others were all +obliged to retire to a distance, and when the peasant looked at the +priest, he recognized the man who had been with the miller's wife. He +said to him: 'I set you free from the closet, set me free from the +barrel.' At this same moment up came, with a flock of sheep, the very +shepherd whom the peasant knew had long been wishing to be mayor, so +he cried with all his might: 'No, I will not do it; if the whole world +insists on it, I will not do it!' The shepherd hearing that, came up +to him, and asked: 'What are you about? What is it that you will not +do?' The peasant said: 'They want to make me mayor, if I will but put +myself in the barrel, but I will not do it.' The shepherd said: 'If +nothing more than that is needful in order to be mayor, I would get +into the barrel at once.' The peasant said: 'If you will get in, you +will be mayor.' The shepherd was willing, and got in, and the peasant +shut the top down on him; then he took the shepherd's flock for +himself, and drove it away. The parson went to the crowd, and declared +that the mass had been said. Then they came and rolled the barrel +towards the water. When the barrel began to roll, the shepherd cried: +'I am quite willing to be mayor.' They believed no otherwise than that +it was the peasant who was saying this, and answered: 'That is what we +intend, but first you shall look about you a little down below there,' +and they rolled the barrel down into the water. + +After that the peasants went home, and as they were entering the +village, the small peasant also came quietly in, driving a flock of +sheep and looking quite contented. Then the peasants were astonished, +and said: 'Peasant, from whence do you come? Have you come out of the +water?' 'Yes, truly,' replied the peasant, 'I sank deep, deep down, +until at last I got to the bottom; I pushed the bottom out of the +barrel, and crept out, and there were pretty meadows on which a number +of lambs were feeding, and from thence I brought this flock away with +me.' Said the peasants: 'Are there any more there?' 'Oh, yes,' said +he, 'more than I could want.' Then the peasants made up their minds +that they too would fetch some sheep for themselves, a flock apiece, +but the mayor said: 'I come first.' So they went to the water +together, and just then there were some of the small fleecy clouds in +the blue sky, which are called little lambs, and they were reflected +in the water, whereupon the peasants cried: 'We already see the sheep +down below!' The mayor pressed forward and said: 'I will go down +first, and look about me, and if things promise well I'll call you.' +So he jumped in; splash! went the water; it sounded as if he were +calling them, and the whole crowd plunged in after him as one man. +Then the entire village was dead, and the small peasant, as sole heir, +became a rich man. + + + +FREDERICK AND CATHERINE + +There was once a man called Frederick: he had a wife whose name was +Catherine, and they had not long been married. One day Frederick said. +'Kate! I am going to work in the fields; when I come back I shall be +hungry so let me have something nice cooked, and a good draught of +ale.' 'Very well,' said she, 'it shall all be ready.' When dinner-time +drew nigh, Catherine took a nice steak, which was all the meat she +had, and put it on the fire to fry. The steak soon began to look +brown, and to crackle in the pan; and Catherine stood by with a fork +and turned it: then she said to herself, 'The steak is almost ready, I +may as well go to the cellar for the ale.' So she left the pan on the +fire and took a large jug and went into the cellar and tapped the ale +cask. The beer ran into the jug and Catherine stood looking on. At +last it popped into her head, 'The dog is not shut up--he may be +running away with the steak; that's well thought of.' So up she ran +from the cellar; and sure enough the rascally cur had got the steak in +his mouth, and was making off with it. + +Away ran Catherine, and away ran the dog across the field: but he ran +faster than she, and stuck close to the steak. 'It's all gone, and +"what can't be cured must be endured",' said Catherine. So she turned +round; and as she had run a good way and was tired, she walked home +leisurely to cool herself. + +Now all this time the ale was running too, for Catherine had not +turned the cock; and when the jug was full the liquor ran upon the +floor till the cask was empty. When she got to the cellar stairs she +saw what had happened. 'My stars!' said she, 'what shall I do to keep +Frederick from seeing all this slopping about?' So she thought a +while; and at last remembered that there was a sack of fine meal +bought at the last fair, and that if she sprinkled this over the floor +it would suck up the ale nicely. 'What a lucky thing,' said she, 'that +we kept that meal! we have now a good use for it.' So away she went +for it: but she managed to set it down just upon the great jug full of +beer, and upset it; and thus all the ale that had been saved was set +swimming on the floor also. 'Ah! well,' said she, 'when one goes +another may as well follow.' Then she strewed the meal all about the +cellar, and was quite pleased with her cleverness, and said, 'How very +neat and clean it looks!' + +At noon Frederick came home. 'Now, wife,' cried he, 'what have you for +dinner?' 'O Frederick!' answered she, 'I was cooking you a steak; but +while I went down to draw the ale, the dog ran away with it; and while +I ran after him, the ale ran out; and when I went to dry up the ale +with the sack of meal that we got at the fair, I upset the jug: but +the cellar is now quite dry, and looks so clean!' 'Kate, Kate,' said +he, 'how could you do all this?' Why did you leave the steak to fry, +and the ale to run, and then spoil all the meal?' 'Why, Frederick,' +said she, 'I did not know I was doing wrong; you should have told me +before.' + +The husband thought to himself, 'If my wife manages matters thus, I +must look sharp myself.' Now he had a good deal of gold in the house: +so he said to Catherine, 'What pretty yellow buttons these are! I +shall put them into a box and bury them in the garden; but take care +that you never go near or meddle with them.' 'No, Frederick,' said +she, 'that I never will.' As soon as he was gone, there came by some +pedlars with earthenware plates and dishes, and they asked her whether +she would buy. 'Oh dear me, I should like to buy very much, but I have +no money: if you had any use for yellow buttons, I might deal with +you.' 'Yellow buttons!' said they: 'let us have a look at them.' 'Go +into the garden and dig where I tell you, and you will find the yellow +buttons: I dare not go myself.' So the rogues went: and when they +found what these yellow buttons were, they took them all away, and +left her plenty of plates and dishes. Then she set them all about the +house for a show: and when Frederick came back, he cried out, 'Kate, +what have you been doing?' 'See,' said she, 'I have bought all these +with your yellow buttons: but I did not touch them myself; the pedlars +went themselves and dug them up.' 'Wife, wife,' said Frederick, 'what +a pretty piece of work you have made! those yellow buttons were all my +money: how came you to do such a thing?' 'Why,' answered she, 'I did +not know there was any harm in it; you should have told me.' + +Catherine stood musing for a while, and at last said to her husband, +'Hark ye, Frederick, we will soon get the gold back: let us run after +the thieves.' 'Well, we will try,' answered he; 'but take some butter +and cheese with you, that we may have something to eat by the way.' +'Very well,' said she; and they set out: and as Frederick walked the +fastest, he left his wife some way behind. 'It does not matter,' +thought she: 'when we turn back, I shall be so much nearer home than +he.' + +Presently she came to the top of a hill, down the side of which there +was a road so narrow that the cart wheels always chafed the trees on +each side as they passed. 'Ah, see now,' said she, 'how they have +bruised and wounded those poor trees; they will never get well.' So +she took pity on them, and made use of the butter to grease them all, +so that the wheels might not hurt them so much. While she was doing +this kind office one of her cheeses fell out of the basket, and rolled +down the hill. Catherine looked, but could not see where it had gone; +so she said, 'Well, I suppose the other will go the same way and find +you; he has younger legs than I have.' Then she rolled the other +cheese after it; and away it went, nobody knows where, down the hill. +But she said she supposed that they knew the road, and would follow +her, and she could not stay there all day waiting for them. + +At last she overtook Frederick, who desired her to give him something +to eat. Then she gave him the dry bread. 'Where are the butter and +cheese?' said he. 'Oh!' answered she, 'I used the butter to grease +those poor trees that the wheels chafed so: and one of the cheeses ran +away so I sent the other after it to find it, and I suppose they are +both on the road together somewhere.' 'What a goose you are to do such +silly things!' said the husband. 'How can you say so?' said she; 'I am +sure you never told me not.' + +They ate the dry bread together; and Frederick said, 'Kate, I hope you +locked the door safe when you came away.' 'No,' answered she, 'you did +not tell me.' 'Then go home, and do it now before we go any farther,' +said Frederick, 'and bring with you something to eat.' + +Catherine did as he told her, and thought to herself by the way, +'Frederick wants something to eat; but I don't think he is very fond +of butter and cheese: I'll bring him a bag of fine nuts, and the +vinegar, for I have often seen him take some.' + +When she reached home, she bolted the back door, but the front door +she took off the hinges, and said, 'Frederick told me to lock the +door, but surely it can nowhere be so safe if I take it with me.' So +she took her time by the way; and when she overtook her husband she +cried out, 'There, Frederick, there is the door itself, you may watch +it as carefully as you please.' 'Alas! alas!' said he, 'what a clever +wife I have! I sent you to make the house fast, and you take the door +away, so that everybody may go in and out as they please--however, as +you have brought the door, you shall carry it about with you for your +pains.' 'Very well,' answered she, 'I'll carry the door; but I'll not +carry the nuts and vinegar bottle also--that would be too much of a +load; so if you please, I'll fasten them to the door.' + +Frederick of course made no objection to that plan, and they set off +into the wood to look for the thieves; but they could not find them: +and when it grew dark, they climbed up into a tree to spend the night +there. Scarcely were they up, than who should come by but the very +rogues they were looking for. They were in truth great rascals, and +belonged to that class of people who find things before they are lost; +they were tired; so they sat down and made a fire under the very tree +where Frederick and Catherine were. Frederick slipped down on the +other side, and picked up some stones. Then he climbed up again, and +tried to hit the thieves on the head with them: but they only said, +'It must be near morning, for the wind shakes the fir-apples down.' + +Catherine, who had the door on her shoulder, began to be very tired; +but she thought it was the nuts upon it that were so heavy: so she +said softly, 'Frederick, I must let the nuts go.' 'No,' answered he, +'not now, they will discover us.' 'I can't help that: they must go.' +'Well, then, make haste and throw them down, if you will.' Then away +rattled the nuts down among the boughs and one of the thieves cried, +'Bless me, it is hailing.' + +A little while after, Catherine thought the door was still very heavy: +so she whispered to Frederick, 'I must throw the vinegar down.' 'Pray +don't,' answered he, 'it will discover us.' 'I can't help that,' said +she, 'go it must.' So she poured all the vinegar down; and the thieves +said, 'What a heavy dew there is!' + +At last it popped into Catherine's head that it was the door itself +that was so heavy all the time: so she whispered, 'Frederick, I must +throw the door down soon.' But he begged and prayed her not to do so, +for he was sure it would betray them. 'Here goes, however,' said she: +and down went the door with such a clatter upon the thieves, that they +cried out 'Murder!' and not knowing what was coming, ran away as fast +as they could, and left all the gold. So when Frederick and Catherine +came down, there they found all their money safe and sound. + + + +SWEETHEART ROLAND + +There was once upon a time a woman who was a real witch and had two +daughters, one ugly and wicked, and this one she loved because she was +her own daughter, and one beautiful and good, and this one she hated, +because she was her stepdaughter. The stepdaughter once had a pretty +apron, which the other fancied so much that she became envious, and +told her mother that she must and would have that apron. 'Be quiet, my +child,' said the old woman, 'and you shall have it. Your stepsister +has long deserved death; tonight when she is asleep I will come and +cut her head off. Only be careful that you are at the far side of the +bed, and push her well to the front.' It would have been all over with +the poor girl if she had not just then been standing in a corner, and +heard everything. All day long she dared not go out of doors, and when +bedtime had come, the witch's daughter got into bed first, so as to +lie at the far side, but when she was asleep, the other pushed her +gently to the front, and took for herself the place at the back, close +by the wall. In the night, the old woman came creeping in, she held an +axe in her right hand, and felt with her left to see if anyone were +lying at the outside, and then she grasped the axe with both hands, +and cut her own child's head off. + +When she had gone away, the girl got up and went to her sweetheart, +who was called Roland, and knocked at his door. When he came out, she +said to him: 'Listen, dearest Roland, we must fly in all haste; my +stepmother wanted to kill me, but has struck her own child. When +daylight comes, and she sees what she has done, we shall be lost.' +'But,' said Roland, 'I counsel you first to take away her magic wand, +or we cannot escape if she pursues us.' The maiden fetched the magic +wand, and she took the dead girl's head and dropped three drops of +blood on the ground, one in front of the bed, one in the kitchen, and +one on the stairs. Then she hurried away with her lover. + +When the old witch got up next morning, she called her daughter, and +wanted to give her the apron, but she did not come. Then the witch +cried: 'Where are you?' 'Here, on the stairs, I am sweeping,' answered +the first drop of blood. The old woman went out, but saw no one on the +stairs, and cried again: 'Where are you?' 'Here in the kitchen, I am +warming myself,' cried the second drop of blood. She went into the +kitchen, but found no one. Then she cried again: 'Where are you?' 'Ah, +here in the bed, I am sleeping,' cried the third drop of blood. She +went into the room to the bed. What did she see there? Her own child, +whose head she had cut off, bathed in her blood. The witch fell into a +passion, sprang to the window, and as she could look forth quite far +into the world, she perceived her stepdaughter hurrying away with her +sweetheart Roland. 'That shall not help you,' cried she, 'even if you +have got a long way off, you shall still not escape me.' She put on +her many-league boots, in which she covered an hour's walk at every +step, and it was not long before she overtook them. The girl, however, +when she saw the old woman striding towards her, changed, with her +magic wand, her sweetheart Roland into a lake, and herself into a duck +swimming in the middle of it. The witch placed herself on the shore, +threw breadcrumbs in, and went to endless trouble to entice the duck; +but the duck did not let herself be enticed, and the old woman had to +go home at night as she had come. At this the girl and her sweetheart +Roland resumed their natural shapes again, and they walked on the +whole night until daybreak. Then the maiden changed herself into a +beautiful flower which stood in the midst of a briar hedge, and her +sweetheart Roland into a fiddler. It was not long before the witch +came striding up towards them, and said to the musician: 'Dear +musician, may I pluck that beautiful flower for myself?' 'Oh, yes,' he +replied, 'I will play to you while you do it.' As she was hastily +creeping into the hedge and was just going to pluck the flower, +knowing perfectly well who the flower was, he began to play, and +whether she would or not, she was forced to dance, for it was a +magical dance. The faster he played, the more violent springs was she +forced to make, and the thorns tore her clothes from her body, and +pricked her and wounded her till she bled, and as he did not stop, she +had to dance till she lay dead on the ground. + +As they were now set free, Roland said: 'Now I will go to my father +and arrange for the wedding.' 'Then in the meantime I will stay here +and wait for you,' said the girl, 'and that no one may recognize me, I +will change myself into a red stone landmark.' Then Roland went away, +and the girl stood like a red landmark in the field and waited for her +beloved. But when Roland got home, he fell into the snares of another, +who so fascinated him that he forgot the maiden. The poor girl +remained there a long time, but at length, as he did not return at +all, she was sad, and changed herself into a flower, and thought: +'Someone will surely come this way, and trample me down.' + +It befell, however, that a shepherd kept his sheep in the field and +saw the flower, and as it was so pretty, plucked it, took it with him, +and laid it away in his chest. From that time forth, strange things +happened in the shepherd's house. When he arose in the morning, all +the work was already done, the room was swept, the table and benches +cleaned, the fire in the hearth was lighted, and the water was +fetched, and at noon, when he came home, the table was laid, and a +good dinner served. He could not conceive how this came to pass, for +he never saw a human being in his house, and no one could have +concealed himself in it. He was certainly pleased with this good +attendance, but still at last he was so afraid that he went to a wise +woman and asked for her advice. The wise woman said: 'There is some +enchantment behind it, listen very early some morning if anything is +moving in the room, and if you see anything, no matter what it is, +throw a white cloth over it, and then the magic will be stopped.' + +The shepherd did as she bade him, and next morning just as day dawned, +he saw the chest open, and the flower come out. Swiftly he sprang +towards it, and threw a white cloth over it. Instantly the +transformation came to an end, and a beautiful girl stood before him, +who admitted to him that she had been the flower, and that up to this +time she had attended to his house-keeping. She told him her story, +and as she pleased him he asked her if she would marry him, but she +answered: 'No,' for she wanted to remain faithful to her sweetheart +Roland, although he had deserted her. Nevertheless, she promised not +to go away, but to continue keeping house for the shepherd. + +And now the time drew near when Roland's wedding was to be celebrated, +and then, according to an old custom in the country, it was announced +that all the girls were to be present at it, and sing in honour of the +bridal pair. When the faithful maiden heard of this, she grew so sad +that she thought her heart would break, and she would not go thither, +but the other girls came and took her. When it came to her turn to +sing, she stepped back, until at last she was the only one left, and +then she could not refuse. But when she began her song, and it reached +Roland's ears, he sprang up and cried: 'I know the voice, that is the +true bride, I will have no other!' Everything he had forgotten, and +which had vanished from his mind, had suddenly come home again to his +heart. Then the faithful maiden held her wedding with her sweetheart +Roland, and grief came to an end and joy began. + + + +SNOWDROP + +It was the middle of winter, when the broad flakes of snow were +falling around, that the queen of a country many thousand miles off +sat working at her window. The frame of the window was made of fine +black ebony, and as she sat looking out upon the snow, she pricked her +finger, and three drops of blood fell upon it. Then she gazed +thoughtfully upon the red drops that sprinkled the white snow, and +said, 'Would that my little daughter may be as white as that snow, as +red as that blood, and as black as this ebony windowframe!' And so the +little girl really did grow up; her skin was as white as snow, her +cheeks as rosy as the blood, and her hair as black as ebony; and she +was called Snowdrop. + +But this queen died; and the king soon married another wife, who +became queen, and was very beautiful, but so vain that she could not +bear to think that anyone could be handsomer than she was. She had a +fairy looking-glass, to which she used to go, and then she would gaze +upon herself in it, and say: + + 'Tell me, glass, tell me true! + Of all the ladies in the land, + Who is fairest, tell me, who?' + +And the glass had always answered: + + 'Thou, queen, art the fairest in all the land.' + +But Snowdrop grew more and more beautiful; and when she was seven +years old she was as bright as the day, and fairer than the queen +herself. Then the glass one day answered the queen, when she went to +look in it as usual: + + 'Thou, queen, art fair, and beauteous to see, + But Snowdrop is lovelier far than thee!' + +When she heard this she turned pale with rage and envy, and called to +one of her servants, and said, 'Take Snowdrop away into the wide wood, +that I may never see her any more.' Then the servant led her away; but +his heart melted when Snowdrop begged him to spare her life, and he +said, 'I will not hurt you, thou pretty child.' So he left her by +herself; and though he thought it most likely that the wild beasts +would tear her in pieces, he felt as if a great weight were taken off +his heart when he had made up his mind not to kill her but to leave +her to her fate, with the chance of someone finding and saving her. + +Then poor Snowdrop wandered along through the wood in great fear; and +the wild beasts roared about her, but none did her any harm. In the +evening she came to a cottage among the hills, and went in to rest, +for her little feet would carry her no further. Everything was spruce +and neat in the cottage: on the table was spread a white cloth, and +there were seven little plates, seven little loaves, and seven little +glasses with wine in them; and seven knives and forks laid in order; +and by the wall stood seven little beds. As she was very hungry, she +picked a little piece of each loaf and drank a very little wine out of +each glass; and after that she thought she would lie down and rest. So +she tried all the little beds; but one was too long, and another was +too short, till at last the seventh suited her: and there she laid +herself down and went to sleep. + +By and by in came the masters of the cottage. Now they were seven +little dwarfs, that lived among the mountains, and dug and searched +for gold. They lighted up their seven lamps, and saw at once that all +was not right. The first said, 'Who has been sitting on my stool?' The +second, 'Who has been eating off my plate?' The third, 'Who has been +picking my bread?' The fourth, 'Who has been meddling with my spoon?' +The fifth, 'Who has been handling my fork?' The sixth, 'Who has been +cutting with my knife?' The seventh, 'Who has been drinking my wine?' +Then the first looked round and said, 'Who has been lying on my bed?' +And the rest came running to him, and everyone cried out that somebody +had been upon his bed. But the seventh saw Snowdrop, and called all +his brethren to come and see her; and they cried out with wonder and +astonishment and brought their lamps to look at her, and said, 'Good +heavens! what a lovely child she is!' And they were very glad to see +her, and took care not to wake her; and the seventh dwarf slept an +hour with each of the other dwarfs in turn, till the night was gone. + +In the morning Snowdrop told them all her story; and they pitied her, +and said if she would keep all things in order, and cook and wash and +knit and spin for them, she might stay where she was, and they would +take good care of her. Then they went out all day long to their work, +seeking for gold and silver in the mountains: but Snowdrop was left at +home; and they warned her, and said, 'The queen will soon find out +where you are, so take care and let no one in.' + +But the queen, now that she thought Snowdrop was dead, believed that +she must be the handsomest lady in the land; and she went to her glass +and said: + + 'Tell me, glass, tell me true! + Of all the ladies in the land, + Who is fairest, tell me, who?' + +And the glass answered: + + 'Thou, queen, art the fairest in all this land: + But over the hills, in the greenwood shade, + Where the seven dwarfs their dwelling have made, + There Snowdrop is hiding her head; and she + Is lovelier far, O queen! than thee.' + +Then the queen was very much frightened; for she knew that the glass +always spoke the truth, and was sure that the servant had betrayed +her. And she could not bear to think that anyone lived who was more +beautiful than she was; so she dressed herself up as an old pedlar, +and went her way over the hills, to the place where the dwarfs dwelt. +Then she knocked at the door, and cried, 'Fine wares to sell!' +Snowdrop looked out at the window, and said, 'Good day, good woman! +what have you to sell?' 'Good wares, fine wares,' said she; 'laces and +bobbins of all colours.' 'I will let the old lady in; she seems to be +a very good sort of body,' thought Snowdrop, as she ran down and +unbolted the door. 'Bless me!' said the old woman, 'how badly your +stays are laced! Let me lace them up with one of my nice new laces.' +Snowdrop did not dream of any mischief; so she stood before the old +woman; but she set to work so nimbly, and pulled the lace so tight, +that Snowdrop's breath was stopped, and she fell down as if she were +dead. 'There's an end to all thy beauty,' said the spiteful queen, +and went away home. + +In the evening the seven dwarfs came home; and I need not say how +grieved they were to see their faithful Snowdrop stretched out upon +the ground, as if she was quite dead. However, they lifted her up, and +when they found what ailed her, they cut the lace; and in a little +time she began to breathe, and very soon came to life again. Then they +said, 'The old woman was the queen herself; take care another time, +and let no one in when we are away.' + +When the queen got home, she went straight to her glass, and spoke to +it as before; but to her great grief it still said: + + 'Thou, queen, art the fairest in all this land: + But over the hills, in the greenwood shade, + Where the seven dwarfs their dwelling have made, + There Snowdrop is hiding her head; and she + Is lovelier far, O queen! than thee.' + +Then the blood ran cold in her heart with spite and malice, to see +that Snowdrop still lived; and she dressed herself up again, but in +quite another dress from the one she wore before, and took with her a +poisoned comb. When she reached the dwarfs' cottage, she knocked at +the door, and cried, 'Fine wares to sell!' But Snowdrop said, 'I dare +not let anyone in.' Then the queen said, 'Only look at my beautiful +combs!' and gave her the poisoned one. And it looked so pretty, that +she took it up and put it into her hair to try it; but the moment it +touched her head, the poison was so powerful that she fell down +senseless. 'There you may lie,' said the queen, and went her way. But +by good luck the dwarfs came in very early that evening; and when they +saw Snowdrop lying on the ground, they thought what had happened, and +soon found the poisoned comb. And when they took it away she got well, +and told them all that had passed; and they warned her once more not +to open the door to anyone. + +Meantime the queen went home to her glass, and shook with rage when +she read the very same answer as before; and she said, 'Snowdrop shall +die, if it cost me my life.' So she went by herself into her chamber, +and got ready a poisoned apple: the outside looked very rosy and +tempting, but whoever tasted it was sure to die. Then she dressed +herself up as a peasant's wife, and travelled over the hills to the +dwarfs' cottage, and knocked at the door; but Snowdrop put her head +out of the window and said, 'I dare not let anyone in, for the dwarfs +have told me not.' 'Do as you please,' said the old woman, 'but at any +rate take this pretty apple; I will give it you.' 'No,' said Snowdrop, +'I dare not take it.' 'You silly girl!' answered the other, 'what are +you afraid of? Do you think it is poisoned? Come! do you eat one part, +and I will eat the other.' Now the apple was so made up that one side +was good, though the other side was poisoned. Then Snowdrop was much +tempted to taste, for the apple looked so very nice; and when she saw +the old woman eat, she could wait no longer. But she had scarcely put +the piece into her mouth, when she fell down dead upon the ground. +'This time nothing will save thee,' said the queen; and she went home +to her glass, and at last it said: + + 'Thou, queen, art the fairest of all the fair.' + +And then her wicked heart was glad, and as happy as such a heart could +be. + +When evening came, and the dwarfs had gone home, they found Snowdrop +lying on the ground: no breath came from her lips, and they were +afraid that she was quite dead. They lifted her up, and combed her +hair, and washed her face with wine and water; but all was in vain, +for the little girl seemed quite dead. So they laid her down upon a +bier, and all seven watched and bewailed her three whole days; and +then they thought they would bury her: but her cheeks were still rosy; +and her face looked just as it did while she was alive; so they said, +'We will never bury her in the cold ground.' And they made a coffin of +glass, so that they might still look at her, and wrote upon it in +golden letters what her name was, and that she was a king's daughter. +And the coffin was set among the hills, and one of the dwarfs always +sat by it and watched. And the birds of the air came too, and bemoaned +Snowdrop; and first of all came an owl, and then a raven, and at last +a dove, and sat by her side. + +And thus Snowdrop lay for a long, long time, and still only looked as +though she was asleep; for she was even now as white as snow, and as +red as blood, and as black as ebony. At last a prince came and called +at the dwarfs' house; and he saw Snowdrop, and read what was written +in golden letters. Then he offered the dwarfs money, and prayed and +besought them to let him take her away; but they said, 'We will not +part with her for all the gold in the world.' At last, however, they +had pity on him, and gave him the coffin; but the moment he lifted it +up to carry it home with him, the piece of apple fell from between her +lips, and Snowdrop awoke, and said, 'Where am I?' And the prince said, +'Thou art quite safe with me.' + +Then he told her all that had happened, and said, 'I love you far +better than all the world; so come with me to my father's palace, and +you shall be my wife.' And Snowdrop consented, and went home with the +prince; and everything was got ready with great pomp and splendour for +their wedding. + +To the feast was asked, among the rest, Snowdrop's old enemy the +queen; and as she was dressing herself in fine rich clothes, she +looked in the glass and said: + + 'Tell me, glass, tell me true! + Of all the ladies in the land, + Who is fairest, tell me, who?' + +And the glass answered: + + 'Thou, lady, art loveliest here, I ween; + But lovelier far is the new-made queen.' + +When she heard this she started with rage; but her envy and curiosity +were so great, that she could not help setting out to see the bride. +And when she got there, and saw that it was no other than Snowdrop, +who, as she thought, had been dead a long while, she choked with rage, +and fell down and died: but Snowdrop and the prince lived and reigned +happily over that land many, many years; and sometimes they went up +into the mountains, and paid a visit to the little dwarfs, who had +been so kind to Snowdrop in her time of need. + + + +THE PINK + +There was once upon a time a queen to whom God had given no children. +Every morning she went into the garden and prayed to God in heaven to +bestow on her a son or a daughter. Then an angel from heaven came to +her and said: 'Be at rest, you shall have a son with the power of +wishing, so that whatsoever in the world he wishes for, that shall he +have.' Then she went to the king, and told him the joyful tidings, and +when the time was come she gave birth to a son, and the king was +filled with gladness. + +Every morning she went with the child to the garden where the wild +beasts were kept, and washed herself there in a clear stream. It +happened once when the child was a little older, that it was lying in +her arms and she fell asleep. Then came the old cook, who knew that +the child had the power of wishing, and stole it away, and he took a +hen, and cut it in pieces, and dropped some of its blood on the +queen's apron and on her dress. Then he carried the child away to a +secret place, where a nurse was obliged to suckle it, and he ran to +the king and accused the queen of having allowed her child to be taken +from her by the wild beasts. When the king saw the blood on her apron, +he believed this, fell into such a passion that he ordered a high +tower to be built, in which neither sun nor moon could be seen and had +his wife put into it, and walled up. Here she was to stay for seven +years without meat or drink, and die of hunger. But God sent two +angels from heaven in the shape of white doves, which flew to her +twice a day, and carried her food until the seven years were over. + +The cook, however, thought to himself: 'If the child has the power of +wishing, and I am here, he might very easily get me into trouble.' So +he left the palace and went to the boy, who was already big enough to +speak, and said to him: 'Wish for a beautiful palace for yourself with +a garden, and all else that pertains to it.' Scarcely were the words +out of the boy's mouth, when everything was there that he had wished +for. After a while the cook said to him: 'It is not well for you to be +so alone, wish for a pretty girl as a companion.' Then the king's son +wished for one, and she immediately stood before him, and was more +beautiful than any painter could have painted her. The two played +together, and loved each other with all their hearts, and the old cook +went out hunting like a nobleman. The thought occurred to him, +however, that the king's son might some day wish to be with his +father, and thus bring him into great peril. So he went out and took +the maiden aside, and said: 'Tonight when the boy is asleep, go to his +bed and plunge this knife into his heart, and bring me his heart and +tongue, and if you do not do it, you shall lose your life.' Thereupon +he went away, and when he returned next day she had not done it, and +said: 'Why should I shed the blood of an innocent boy who has never +harmed anyone?' The cook once more said: 'If you do not do it, it +shall cost you your own life.' When he had gone away, she had a little +hind brought to her, and ordered her to be killed, and took her heart +and tongue, and laid them on a plate, and when she saw the old man +coming, she said to the boy: 'Lie down in your bed, and draw the +clothes over you.' Then the wicked wretch came in and said: 'Where are +the boy's heart and tongue?' The girl reached the plate to him, but +the king's son threw off the quilt, and said: 'You old sinner, why did +you want to kill me? Now will I pronounce thy sentence. You shall +become a black poodle and have a gold collar round your neck, and +shall eat burning coals, till the flames burst forth from your +throat.' And when he had spoken these words, the old man was changed +into a poodle dog, and had a gold collar round his neck, and the cooks +were ordered to bring up some live coals, and these he ate, until the +flames broke forth from his throat. The king's son remained there a +short while longer, and he thought of his mother, and wondered if she +were still alive. At length he said to the maiden: 'I will go home to +my own country; if you will go with me, I will provide for you.' 'Ah,' +she replied, 'the way is so long, and what shall I do in a strange +land where I am unknown?' As she did not seem quite willing, and as +they could not be parted from each other, he wished that she might be +changed into a beautiful pink, and took her with him. Then he went +away to his own country, and the poodle had to run after him. He went +to the tower in which his mother was confined, and as it was so high, +he wished for a ladder which would reach up to the very top. Then he +mounted up and looked inside, and cried: 'Beloved mother, Lady Queen, +are you still alive, or are you dead?' She answered: 'I have just +eaten, and am still satisfied,' for she thought the angels were there. +Said he: 'I am your dear son, whom the wild beasts were said to have +torn from your arms; but I am alive still, and will soon set you +free.' Then he descended again, and went to his father, and caused +himself to be announced as a strange huntsman, and asked if he could +offer him service. The king said yes, if he was skilful and could get +game for him, he should come to him, but that deer had never taken up +their quarters in any part of the district or country. Then the +huntsman promised to procure as much game for him as he could possibly +use at the royal table. So he summoned all the huntsmen together, and +bade them go out into the forest with him. And he went with them and +made them form a great circle, open at one end where he stationed +himself, and began to wish. Two hundred deer and more came running +inside the circle at once, and the huntsmen shot them. Then they were +all placed on sixty country carts, and driven home to the king, and +for once he was able to deck his table with game, after having had +none at all for years. + +Now the king felt great joy at this, and commanded that his entire +household should eat with him next day, and made a great feast. When +they were all assembled together, he said to the huntsman: 'As you are +so clever, you shall sit by me.' He replied: 'Lord King, your majesty +must excuse me, I am a poor huntsman.' But the king insisted on it, +and said: 'You shall sit by me,' until he did it. Whilst he was +sitting there, he thought of his dearest mother, and wished that one +of the king's principal servants would begin to speak of her, and +would ask how it was faring with the queen in the tower, and if she +were alive still, or had perished. Hardly had he formed the wish than +the marshal began, and said: 'Your majesty, we live joyously here, but +how is the queen living in the tower? Is she still alive, or has she +died?' But the king replied: 'She let my dear son be torn to pieces by +wild beasts; I will not have her named.' Then the huntsman arose and +said: 'Gracious lord father she is alive still, and I am her son, and +I was not carried away by wild beasts, but by that wretch the old +cook, who tore me from her arms when she was asleep, and sprinkled her +apron with the blood of a chicken.' Thereupon he took the dog with the +golden collar, and said: 'That is the wretch!' and caused live coals +to be brought, and these the dog was compelled to devour before the +sight of all, until flames burst forth from its throat. On this the +huntsman asked the king if he would like to see the dog in his true +shape, and wished him back into the form of the cook, in the which he +stood immediately, with his white apron, and his knife by his side. +When the king saw him he fell into a passion, and ordered him to be +cast into the deepest dungeon. Then the huntsman spoke further and +said: 'Father, will you see the maiden who brought me up so tenderly +and who was afterwards to murder me, but did not do it, though her own +life depended on it?' The king replied: 'Yes, I would like to see +her.' The son said: 'Most gracious father, I will show her to you in +the form of a beautiful flower,' and he thrust his hand into his +pocket and brought forth the pink, and placed it on the royal table, +and it was so beautiful that the king had never seen one to equal it. +Then the son said: 'Now will I show her to you in her own form,' and +wished that she might become a maiden, and she stood there looking so +beautiful that no painter could have made her look more so. + +And the king sent two waiting-maids and two attendants into the tower, +to fetch the queen and bring her to the royal table. But when she was +led in she ate nothing, and said: 'The gracious and merciful God who +has supported me in the tower, will soon set me free.' She lived three +days more, and then died happily, and when she was buried, the two +white doves which had brought her food to the tower, and were angels +of heaven, followed her body and seated themselves on her grave. The +aged king ordered the cook to be torn in four pieces, but grief +consumed the king's own heart, and he soon died. His son married the +beautiful maiden whom he had brought with him as a flower in his +pocket, and whether they are still alive or not, is known to God. + + + +CLEVER ELSIE + +There was once a man who had a daughter who was called Clever Elsie. +And when she had grown up her father said: 'We will get her married.' +'Yes,' said the mother, 'if only someone would come who would have +her.' At length a man came from a distance and wooed her, who was +called Hans; but he stipulated that Clever Elsie should be really +smart. 'Oh,' said the father, 'she has plenty of good sense'; and the +mother said: 'Oh, she can see the wind coming up the street, and hear +the flies coughing.' 'Well,' said Hans, 'if she is not really smart, I +won't have her.' When they were sitting at dinner and had eaten, the +mother said: 'Elsie, go into the cellar and fetch some beer.' Then +Clever Elsie took the pitcher from the wall, went into the cellar, and +tapped the lid briskly as she went, so that the time might not appear +long. When she was below she fetched herself a chair, and set it +before the barrel so that she had no need to stoop, and did not hurt +her back or do herself any unexpected injury. Then she placed the can +before her, and turned the tap, and while the beer was running she +would not let her eyes be idle, but looked up at the wall, and after +much peering here and there, saw a pick-axe exactly above her, which +the masons had accidentally left there. + +Then Clever Elsie began to weep and said: 'If I get Hans, and we have +a child, and he grows big, and we send him into the cellar here to +draw beer, then the pick-axe will fall on his head and kill him.' Then +she sat and wept and screamed with all the strength of her body, over +the misfortune which lay before her. Those upstairs waited for the +drink, but Clever Elsie still did not come. Then the woman said to the +servant: 'Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie is.' The +maid went and found her sitting in front of the barrel, screaming +loudly. 'Elsie why do you weep?' asked the maid. 'Ah,' she answered, +'have I not reason to weep? If I get Hans, and we have a child, and he +grows big, and has to draw beer here, the pick-axe will perhaps fall +on his head, and kill him.' Then said the maid: 'What a clever Elsie +we have!' and sat down beside her and began loudly to weep over the +misfortune. After a while, as the maid did not come back, and those +upstairs were thirsty for the beer, the man said to the boy: 'Just go +down into the cellar and see where Elsie and the girl are.' The boy +went down, and there sat Clever Elsie and the girl both weeping +together. Then he asked: 'Why are you weeping?' 'Ah,' said Elsie, +'have I not reason to weep? If I get Hans, and we have a child, and he +grows big, and has to draw beer here, the pick-axe will fall on his +head and kill him.' Then said the boy: 'What a clever Elsie we have!' +and sat down by her, and likewise began to howl loudly. Upstairs they +waited for the boy, but as he still did not return, the man said to +the woman: 'Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie is!' The +woman went down, and found all three in the midst of their +lamentations, and inquired what was the cause; then Elsie told her +also that her future child was to be killed by the pick-axe, when it +grew big and had to draw beer, and the pick-axe fell down. Then said +the mother likewise: 'What a clever Elsie we have!' and sat down and +wept with them. The man upstairs waited a short time, but as his wife +did not come back and his thirst grew ever greater, he said: 'I must +go into the cellar myself and see where Elsie is.' But when he got +into the cellar, and they were all sitting together crying, and he +heard the reason, and that Elsie's child was the cause, and the Elsie +might perhaps bring one into the world some day, and that he might be +killed by the pick-axe, if he should happen to be sitting beneath it, +drawing beer just at the very time when it fell down, he cried: 'Oh, +what a clever Elsie!' and sat down, and likewise wept with them. The +bridegroom stayed upstairs alone for along time; then as no one would +come back he thought: 'They must be waiting for me below: I too must +go there and see what they are about.' When he got down, the five of +them were sitting screaming and lamenting quite piteously, each out- +doing the other. 'What misfortune has happened then?' asked he. 'Ah, +dear Hans,' said Elsie, 'if we marry each other and have a child, and +he is big, and we perhaps send him here to draw something to drink, +then the pick-axe which has been left up there might dash his brains +out if it were to fall down, so have we not reason to weep?' 'Come,' +said Hans, 'more understanding than that is not needed for my +household, as you are such a clever Elsie, I will have you,' and +seized her hand, took her upstairs with him, and married her. + +After Hans had had her some time, he said: 'Wife, I am going out to +work and earn some money for us; go into the field and cut the corn +that we may have some bread.' 'Yes, dear Hans, I will do that.' After +Hans had gone away, she cooked herself some good broth and took it +into the field with her. When she came to the field she said to +herself: 'What shall I do; shall I cut first, or shall I eat first? +Oh, I will eat first.' Then she drank her cup of broth and when she +was fully satisfied, she once more said: 'What shall I do? Shall I cut +first, or shall I sleep first? I will sleep first.' Then she lay down +among the corn and fell asleep. Hans had been at home for a long time, +but Elsie did not come; then said he: 'What a clever Elsie I have; she +is so industrious that she does not even come home to eat.' But when +evening came and she still stayed away, Hans went out to see what she +had cut, but nothing was cut, and she was lying among the corn asleep. +Then Hans hastened home and brought a fowler's net with little bells +and hung it round about her, and she still went on sleeping. Then he +ran home, shut the house-door, and sat down in his chair and worked. +At length, when it was quite dark, Clever Elsie awoke and when she got +up there was a jingling all round about her, and the bells rang at +each step which she took. Then she was alarmed, and became uncertain +whether she really was Clever Elsie or not, and said: 'Is it I, or is +it not I?' But she knew not what answer to make to this, and stood for +a time in doubt; at length she thought: 'I will go home and ask if it +be I, or if it be not I, they will be sure to know.' She ran to the +door of her own house, but it was shut; then she knocked at the window +and cried: 'Hans, is Elsie within?' 'Yes,' answered Hans, 'she is +within.' Hereupon she was terrified, and said: 'Ah, heavens! Then it +is not I,' and went to another door; but when the people heard the +jingling of the bells they would not open it, and she could get in +nowhere. Then she ran out of the village, and no one has seen her +since. + + + +THE MISER IN THE BUSH + +A farmer had a faithful and diligent servant, who had worked hard for +him three years, without having been paid any wages. At last it came +into the man's head that he would not go on thus without pay any +longer; so he went to his master, and said, 'I have worked hard for +you a long time, I will trust to you to give me what I deserve to have +for my trouble.' The farmer was a sad miser, and knew that his man was +very simple-hearted; so he took out threepence, and gave him for every +year's service a penny. The poor fellow thought it was a great deal of +money to have, and said to himself, 'Why should I work hard, and live +here on bad fare any longer? I can now travel into the wide world, and +make myself merry.' With that he put his money into his purse, and set +out, roaming over hill and valley. + +As he jogged along over the fields, singing and dancing, a little +dwarf met him, and asked him what made him so merry. 'Why, what should +make me down-hearted?' said he; 'I am sound in health and rich in +purse, what should I care for? I have saved up my three years' +earnings and have it all safe in my pocket.' 'How much may it come +to?' said the little man. 'Full threepence,' replied the countryman. +'I wish you would give them to me,' said the other; 'I am very poor.' +Then the man pitied him, and gave him all he had; and the little dwarf +said in return, 'As you have such a kind honest heart, I will grant +you three wishes--one for every penny; so choose whatever you like.' +Then the countryman rejoiced at his good luck, and said, 'I like many +things better than money: first, I will have a bow that will bring +down everything I shoot at; secondly, a fiddle that will set everyone +dancing that hears me play upon it; and thirdly, I should like that +everyone should grant what I ask.' The dwarf said he should have his +three wishes; so he gave him the bow and fiddle, and went his way. + +Our honest friend journeyed on his way too; and if he was merry +before, he was now ten times more so. He had not gone far before he +met an old miser: close by them stood a tree, and on the topmost twig +sat a thrush singing away most joyfully. 'Oh, what a pretty bird!' +said the miser; 'I would give a great deal of money to have such a +one.' 'If that's all,' said the countryman, 'I will soon bring it +down.' Then he took up his bow, and down fell the thrush into the +bushes at the foot of the tree. The miser crept into the bush to find +it; but directly he had got into the middle, his companion took up his +fiddle and played away, and the miser began to dance and spring about, +capering higher and higher in the air. The thorns soon began to tear +his clothes till they all hung in rags about him, and he himself was +all scratched and wounded, so that the blood ran down. 'Oh, for +heaven's sake!' cried the miser, 'Master! master! pray let the fiddle +alone. What have I done to deserve this?' 'Thou hast shaved many a +poor soul close enough,' said the other; 'thou art only meeting thy +reward': so he played up another tune. Then the miser began to beg and +promise, and offered money for his liberty; but he did not come up to +the musician's price for some time, and he danced him along brisker +and brisker, and the miser bid higher and higher, till at last he +offered a round hundred of florins that he had in his purse, and had +just gained by cheating some poor fellow. When the countryman saw so +much money, he said, 'I will agree to your proposal.' So he took the +purse, put up his fiddle, and travelled on very pleased with his +bargain. + +Meanwhile the miser crept out of the bush half-naked and in a piteous +plight, and began to ponder how he should take his revenge, and serve +his late companion some trick. At last he went to the judge, and +complained that a rascal had robbed him of his money, and beaten him +into the bargain; and that the fellow who did it carried a bow at his +back and a fiddle hung round his neck. Then the judge sent out his +officers to bring up the accused wherever they should find him; and he +was soon caught and brought up to be tried. + +The miser began to tell his tale, and said he had been robbed of his +money. 'No, you gave it me for playing a tune to you.' said the +countryman; but the judge told him that was not likely, and cut the +matter short by ordering him off to the gallows. + +So away he was taken; but as he stood on the steps he said, 'My Lord +Judge, grant me one last request.' 'Anything but thy life,' replied +the other. 'No,' said he, 'I do not ask my life; only to let me play +upon my fiddle for the last time.' The miser cried out, 'Oh, no! no! +for heaven's sake don't listen to him! don't listen to him!' But the +judge said, 'It is only this once, he will soon have done.' The fact +was, he could not refuse the request, on account of the dwarf's third +gift. + +Then the miser said, 'Bind me fast, bind me fast, for pity's sake.' +But the countryman seized his fiddle, and struck up a tune, and at the +first note judge, clerks, and jailer were in motion; all began +capering, and no one could hold the miser. At the second note the +hangman let his prisoner go, and danced also, and by the time he had +played the first bar of the tune, all were dancing together--judge, +court, and miser, and all the people who had followed to look on. At +first the thing was merry and pleasant enough; but when it had gone on +a while, and there seemed to be no end of playing or dancing, they +began to cry out, and beg him to leave off; but he stopped not a whit +the more for their entreaties, till the judge not only gave him his +life, but promised to return him the hundred florins. + +Then he called to the miser, and said, 'Tell us now, you vagabond, +where you got that gold, or I shall play on for your amusement only,' +'I stole it,' said the miser in the presence of all the people; 'I +acknowledge that I stole it, and that you earned it fairly.' Then the +countryman stopped his fiddle, and left the miser to take his place at +the gallows. + + + +ASHPUTTEL + +The wife of a rich man fell sick; and when she felt that her end drew +nigh, she called her only daughter to her bed-side, and said, 'Always +be a good girl, and I will look down from heaven and watch over you.' +Soon afterwards she shut her eyes and died, and was buried in the +garden; and the little girl went every day to her grave and wept, and +was always good and kind to all about her. And the snow fell and +spread a beautiful white covering over the grave; but by the time the +spring came, and the sun had melted it away again, her father had +married another wife. This new wife had two daughters of her own, that +she brought home with her; they were fair in face but foul at heart, +and it was now a sorry time for the poor little girl. 'What does the +good-for-nothing want in the parlour?' said they; 'they who would eat +bread should first earn it; away with the kitchen-maid!' Then they +took away her fine clothes, and gave her an old grey frock to put on, +and laughed at her, and turned her into the kitchen. + +There she was forced to do hard work; to rise early before daylight, +to bring the water, to make the fire, to cook and to wash. Besides +that, the sisters plagued her in all sorts of ways, and laughed at +her. In the evening when she was tired, she had no bed to lie down on, +but was made to lie by the hearth among the ashes; and as this, of +course, made her always dusty and dirty, they called her Ashputtel. + +It happened once that the father was going to the fair, and asked his +wife's daughters what he should bring them. 'Fine clothes,' said the +first; 'Pearls and diamonds,' cried the second. 'Now, child,' said he +to his own daughter, 'what will you have?' 'The first twig, dear +father, that brushes against your hat when you turn your face to come +homewards,' said she. Then he bought for the first two the fine +clothes and pearls and diamonds they had asked for: and on his way +home, as he rode through a green copse, a hazel twig brushed against +him, and almost pushed off his hat: so he broke it off and brought it +away; and when he got home he gave it to his daughter. Then she took +it, and went to her mother's grave and planted it there; and cried so +much that it was watered with her tears; and there it grew and became +a fine tree. Three times every day she went to it and cried; and soon +a little bird came and built its nest upon the tree, and talked with +her, and watched over her, and brought her whatever she wished for. + +Now it happened that the king of that land held a feast, which was to +last three days; and out of those who came to it his son was to choose +a bride for himself. Ashputtel's two sisters were asked to come; so +they called her up, and said, 'Now, comb our hair, brush our shoes, +and tie our sashes for us, for we are going to dance at the king's +feast.' Then she did as she was told; but when all was done she could +not help crying, for she thought to herself, she should so have liked +to have gone with them to the ball; and at last she begged her mother +very hard to let her go. 'You, Ashputtel!' said she; 'you who have +nothing to wear, no clothes at all, and who cannot even dance--you +want to go to the ball? And when she kept on begging, she said at +last, to get rid of her, 'I will throw this dishful of peas into the +ash-heap, and if in two hours' time you have picked them all out, you +shall go to the feast too.' + +Then she threw the peas down among the ashes, but the little maiden +ran out at the back door into the garden, and cried out: + + 'Hither, hither, through the sky, + Turtle-doves and linnets, fly! + Blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch gay, + Hither, hither, haste away! + One and all come help me, quick! + Haste ye, haste ye!--pick, pick, pick!' + +Then first came two white doves, flying in at the kitchen window; next +came two turtle-doves; and after them came all the little birds under +heaven, chirping and fluttering in: and they flew down into the ashes. +And the little doves stooped their heads down and set to work, pick, +pick, pick; and then the others began to pick, pick, pick: and among +them all they soon picked out all the good grain, and put it into a +dish but left the ashes. Long before the end of the hour the work was +quite done, and all flew out again at the windows. + +Then Ashputtel brought the dish to her mother, overjoyed at the +thought that now she should go to the ball. But the mother said, 'No, +no! you slut, you have no clothes, and cannot dance; you shall not +go.' And when Ashputtel begged very hard to go, she said, 'If you can +in one hour's time pick two of those dishes of peas out of the ashes, +you shall go too.' And thus she thought she should at least get rid of +her. So she shook two dishes of peas into the ashes. + +But the little maiden went out into the garden at the back of the +house, and cried out as before: + + 'Hither, hither, through the sky, + Turtle-doves and linnets, fly! + Blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch gay, + Hither, hither, haste away! + One and all come help me, quick! + Haste ye, haste ye!--pick, pick, pick!' + +Then first came two white doves in at the kitchen window; next came +two turtle-doves; and after them came all the little birds under +heaven, chirping and hopping about. And they flew down into the ashes; +and the little doves put their heads down and set to work, pick, pick, +pick; and then the others began pick, pick, pick; and they put all the +good grain into the dishes, and left all the ashes. Before half an +hour's time all was done, and out they flew again. And then Ashputtel +took the dishes to her mother, rejoicing to think that she should now +go to the ball. But her mother said, 'It is all of no use, you cannot +go; you have no clothes, and cannot dance, and you would only put us +to shame': and off she went with her two daughters to the ball. + +Now when all were gone, and nobody left at home, Ashputtel went +sorrowfully and sat down under the hazel-tree, and cried out: + + 'Shake, shake, hazel-tree, + Gold and silver over me!' + +Then her friend the bird flew out of the tree, and brought a gold and +silver dress for her, and slippers of spangled silk; and she put them +on, and followed her sisters to the feast. But they did not know her, +and thought it must be some strange princess, she looked so fine and +beautiful in her rich clothes; and they never once thought of +Ashputtel, taking it for granted that she was safe at home in the +dirt. + +The king's son soon came up to her, and took her by the hand and +danced with her, and no one else: and he never left her hand; but when +anyone else came to ask her to dance, he said, 'This lady is dancing +with me.' + +Thus they danced till a late hour of the night; and then she wanted to +go home: and the king's son said, 'I shall go and take care of you to +your home'; for he wanted to see where the beautiful maiden lived. But +she slipped away from him, unawares, and ran off towards home; and as +the prince followed her, she jumped up into the pigeon-house and shut +the door. Then he waited till her father came home, and told him that +the unknown maiden, who had been at the feast, had hid herself in the +pigeon-house. But when they had broken open the door they found no one +within; and as they came back into the house, Ashputtel was lying, as +she always did, in her dirty frock by the ashes, and her dim little +lamp was burning in the chimney. For she had run as quickly as she +could through the pigeon-house and on to the hazel-tree, and had there +taken off her beautiful clothes, and put them beneath the tree, that +the bird might carry them away, and had lain down again amid the ashes +in her little grey frock. + +The next day when the feast was again held, and her father, mother, +and sisters were gone, Ashputtel went to the hazel-tree, and said: + + 'Shake, shake, hazel-tree, + Gold and silver over me!' + +And the bird came and brought a still finer dress than the one she had +worn the day before. And when she came in it to the ball, everyone +wondered at her beauty: but the king's son, who was waiting for her, +took her by the hand, and danced with her; and when anyone asked her +to dance, he said as before, 'This lady is dancing with me.' + +When night came she wanted to go home; and the king's son followed +here as before, that he might see into what house she went: but she +sprang away from him all at once into the garden behind her father's +house. In this garden stood a fine large pear-tree full of ripe fruit; +and Ashputtel, not knowing where to hide herself, jumped up into it +without being seen. Then the king's son lost sight of her, and could +not find out where she was gone, but waited till her father came home, +and said to him, 'The unknown lady who danced with me has slipped +away, and I think she must have sprung into the pear-tree.' The father +thought to himself, 'Can it be Ashputtel?' So he had an axe brought; +and they cut down the tree, but found no one upon it. And when they +came back into the kitchen, there lay Ashputtel among the ashes; for +she had slipped down on the other side of the tree, and carried her +beautiful clothes back to the bird at the hazel-tree, and then put on +her little grey frock. + +The third day, when her father and mother and sisters were gone, she +went again into the garden, and said: + + 'Shake, shake, hazel-tree, + Gold and silver over me!' + +Then her kind friend the bird brought a dress still finer than the +former one, and slippers which were all of gold: so that when she came +to the feast no one knew what to say, for wonder at her beauty: and +the king's son danced with nobody but her; and when anyone else asked +her to dance, he said, 'This lady is /my/ partner, sir.' + +When night came she wanted to go home; and the king's son would go +with her, and said to himself, 'I will not lose her this time'; but, +however, she again slipped away from him, though in such a hurry that +she dropped her left golden slipper upon the stairs. + +The prince took the shoe, and went the next day to the king his +father, and said, 'I will take for my wife the lady that this golden +slipper fits.' Then both the sisters were overjoyed to hear it; for +they had beautiful feet, and had no doubt that they could wear the +golden slipper. The eldest went first into the room where the slipper +was, and wanted to try it on, and the mother stood by. But her great +toe could not go into it, and the shoe was altogether much too small +for her. Then the mother gave her a knife, and said, 'Never mind, cut +it off; when you are queen you will not care about toes; you will not +want to walk.' So the silly girl cut off her great toe, and thus +squeezed on the shoe, and went to the king's son. Then he took her for +his bride, and set her beside him on his horse, and rode away with her +homewards. + +But on their way home they had to pass by the hazel-tree that +Ashputtel had planted; and on the branch sat a little dove singing: + + 'Back again! back again! look to the shoe! + The shoe is too small, and not made for you! + Prince! prince! look again for thy bride, + For she's not the true one that sits by thy side.' + +Then the prince got down and looked at her foot; and he saw, by the +blood that streamed from it, what a trick she had played him. So he +turned his horse round, and brought the false bride back to her home, +and said, 'This is not the right bride; let the other sister try and +put on the slipper.' Then she went into the room and got her foot into +the shoe, all but the heel, which was too large. But her mother +squeezed it in till the blood came, and took her to the king's son: +and he set her as his bride by his side on his horse, and rode away +with her. + +But when they came to the hazel-tree the little dove sat there still, +and sang: + + 'Back again! back again! look to the shoe! + The shoe is too small, and not made for you! + Prince! prince! look again for thy bride, + For she's not the true one that sits by thy side.' + +Then he looked down, and saw that the blood streamed so much from the +shoe, that her white stockings were quite red. So he turned his horse +and brought her also back again. 'This is not the true bride,' said he +to the father; 'have you no other daughters?' 'No,' said he; 'there is +only a little dirty Ashputtel here, the child of my first wife; I am +sure she cannot be the bride.' The prince told him to send her. But +the mother said, 'No, no, she is much too dirty; she will not dare to +show herself.' However, the prince would have her come; and she first +washed her face and hands, and then went in and curtsied to him, and +he reached her the golden slipper. Then she took her clumsy shoe off +her left foot, and put on the golden slipper; and it fitted her as if +it had been made for her. And when he drew near and looked at her face +he knew her, and said, 'This is the right bride.' But the mother and +both the sisters were frightened, and turned pale with anger as he +took Ashputtel on his horse, and rode away with her. And when they +came to the hazel-tree, the white dove sang: + + 'Home! home! look at the shoe! + Princess! the shoe was made for you! + Prince! prince! take home thy bride, + For she is the true one that sits by thy side!' + +And when the dove had done its song, it came flying, and perched upon +her right shoulder, and so went home with her. + + + +THE WHITE SNAKE + +A long time ago there lived a king who was famed for his wisdom +through all the land. Nothing was hidden from him, and it seemed as if +news of the most secret things was brought to him through the air. But +he had a strange custom; every day after dinner, when the table was +cleared, and no one else was present, a trusty servant had to bring +him one more dish. It was covered, however, and even the servant did +not know what was in it, neither did anyone know, for the king never +took off the cover to eat of it until he was quite alone. + +This had gone on for a long time, when one day the servant, who took +away the dish, was overcome with such curiosity that he could not help +carrying the dish into his room. When he had carefully locked the +door, he lifted up the cover, and saw a white snake lying on the dish. +But when he saw it he could not deny himself the pleasure of tasting +it, so he cut of a little bit and put it into his mouth. No sooner had +it touched his tongue than he heard a strange whispering of little +voices outside his window. He went and listened, and then noticed that +it was the sparrows who were chattering together, and telling one +another of all kinds of things which they had seen in the fields and +woods. Eating the snake had given him power of understanding the +language of animals. + +Now it so happened that on this very day the queen lost her most +beautiful ring, and suspicion of having stolen it fell upon this +trusty servant, who was allowed to go everywhere. The king ordered the +man to be brought before him, and threatened with angry words that +unless he could before the morrow point out the thief, he himself +should be looked upon as guilty and executed. In vain he declared his +innocence; he was dismissed with no better answer. + +In his trouble and fear he went down into the courtyard and took +thought how to help himself out of his trouble. Now some ducks were +sitting together quietly by a brook and taking their rest; and, whilst +they were making their feathers smooth with their bills, they were +having a confidential conversation together. The servant stood by and +listened. They were telling one another of all the places where they +had been waddling about all the morning, and what good food they had +found; and one said in a pitiful tone: 'Something lies heavy on my +stomach; as I was eating in haste I swallowed a ring which lay under +the queen's window.' The servant at once seized her by the neck, +carried her to the kitchen, and said to the cook: 'Here is a fine +duck; pray, kill her.' 'Yes,' said the cook, and weighed her in his +hand; 'she has spared no trouble to fatten herself, and has been +waiting to be roasted long enough.' So he cut off her head, and as she +was being dressed for the spit, the queen's ring was found inside her. + +The servant could now easily prove his innocence; and the king, to +make amends for the wrong, allowed him to ask a favour, and promised +him the best place in the court that he could wish for. The servant +refused everything, and only asked for a horse and some money for +travelling, as he had a mind to see the world and go about a little. +When his request was granted he set out on his way, and one day came +to a pond, where he saw three fishes caught in the reeds and gasping +for water. Now, though it is said that fishes are dumb, he heard them +lamenting that they must perish so miserably, and, as he had a kind +heart, he got off his horse and put the three prisoners back into the +water. They leapt with delight, put out their heads, and cried to him: +'We will remember you and repay you for saving us!' + +He rode on, and after a while it seemed to him that he heard a voice +in the sand at his feet. He listened, and heard an ant-king complain: +'Why cannot folks, with their clumsy beasts, keep off our bodies? That +stupid horse, with his heavy hoofs, has been treading down my people +without mercy!' So he turned on to a side path and the ant-king cried +out to him: 'We will remember you--one good turn deserves another!' + +The path led him into a wood, and there he saw two old ravens standing +by their nest, and throwing out their young ones. 'Out with you, you +idle, good-for-nothing creatures!' cried they; 'we cannot find food +for you any longer; you are big enough, and can provide for +yourselves.' But the poor young ravens lay upon the ground, flapping +their wings, and crying: 'Oh, what helpless chicks we are! We must +shift for ourselves, and yet we cannot fly! What can we do, but lie +here and starve?' So the good young fellow alighted and killed his +horse with his sword, and gave it to them for food. Then they came +hopping up to it, satisfied their hunger, and cried: 'We will remember +you--one good turn deserves another!' + +And now he had to use his own legs, and when he had walked a long way, +he came to a large city. There was a great noise and crowd in the +streets, and a man rode up on horseback, crying aloud: 'The king's +daughter wants a husband; but whoever seeks her hand must perform a +hard task, and if he does not succeed he will forfeit his life.' Many +had already made the attempt, but in vain; nevertheless when the youth +saw the king's daughter he was so overcome by her great beauty that he +forgot all danger, went before the king, and declared himself a +suitor. + +So he was led out to the sea, and a gold ring was thrown into it, +before his eyes; then the king ordered him to fetch this ring up from +the bottom of the sea, and added: 'If you come up again without it you +will be thrown in again and again until you perish amid the waves.' +All the people grieved for the handsome youth; then they went away, +leaving him alone by the sea. + +He stood on the shore and considered what he should do, when suddenly +he saw three fishes come swimming towards him, and they were the very +fishes whose lives he had saved. The one in the middle held a mussel +in its mouth, which it laid on the shore at the youth's feet, and when +he had taken it up and opened it, there lay the gold ring in the +shell. Full of joy he took it to the king and expected that he would +grant him the promised reward. + +But when the proud princess perceived that he was not her equal in +birth, she scorned him, and required him first to perform another +task. She went down into the garden and strewed with her own hands ten +sacksful of millet-seed on the grass; then she said: 'Tomorrow morning +before sunrise these must be picked up, and not a single grain be +wanting.' + +The youth sat down in the garden and considered how it might be +possible to perform this task, but he could think of nothing, and +there he sat sorrowfully awaiting the break of day, when he should be +led to death. But as soon as the first rays of the sun shone into the +garden he saw all the ten sacks standing side by side, quite full, and +not a single grain was missing. The ant-king had come in the night +with thousands and thousands of ants, and the grateful creatures had +by great industry picked up all the millet-seed and gathered them into +the sacks. + +Presently the king's daughter herself came down into the garden, and +was amazed to see that the young man had done the task she had given +him. But she could not yet conquer her proud heart, and said: +'Although he has performed both the tasks, he shall not be my husband +until he had brought me an apple from the Tree of Life.' The youth did +not know where the Tree of Life stood, but he set out, and would have +gone on for ever, as long as his legs would carry him, though he had +no hope of finding it. After he had wandered through three kingdoms, +he came one evening to a wood, and lay down under a tree to sleep. But +he heard a rustling in the branches, and a golden apple fell into his +hand. At the same time three ravens flew down to him, perched +themselves upon his knee, and said: 'We are the three young ravens +whom you saved from starving; when we had grown big, and heard that +you were seeking the Golden Apple, we flew over the sea to the end of +the world, where the Tree of Life stands, and have brought you the +apple.' The youth, full of joy, set out homewards, and took the Golden +Apple to the king's beautiful daughter, who had now no more excuses +left to make. They cut the Apple of Life in two and ate it together; +and then her heart became full of love for him, and they lived in +undisturbed happiness to a great age. + + + +THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN LITTLE KIDS + +There was once upon a time an old goat who had seven little kids, and +loved them with all the love of a mother for her children. One day she +wanted to go into the forest and fetch some food. So she called all +seven to her and said: 'Dear children, I have to go into the forest, +be on your guard against the wolf; if he comes in, he will devour you +all--skin, hair, and everything. The wretch often disguises himself, +but you will know him at once by his rough voice and his black feet.' +The kids said: 'Dear mother, we will take good care of ourselves; you +may go away without any anxiety.' Then the old one bleated, and went +on her way with an easy mind. + +It was not long before someone knocked at the house-door and called: +'Open the door, dear children; your mother is here, and has brought +something back with her for each of you.' But the little kids knew +that it was the wolf, by the rough voice. 'We will not open the door,' +cried they, 'you are not our mother. She has a soft, pleasant voice, +but your voice is rough; you are the wolf!' Then the wolf went away to +a shopkeeper and bought himself a great lump of chalk, ate this and +made his voice soft with it. Then he came back, knocked at the door of +the house, and called: 'Open the door, dear children, your mother is +here and has brought something back with her for each of you.' But the +wolf had laid his black paws against the window, and the children saw +them and cried: 'We will not open the door, our mother has not black +feet like you: you are the wolf!' Then the wolf ran to a baker and +said: 'I have hurt my feet, rub some dough over them for me.' And when +the baker had rubbed his feet over, he ran to the miller and said: +'Strew some white meal over my feet for me.' The miller thought to +himself: 'The wolf wants to deceive someone,' and refused; but the +wolf said: 'If you will not do it, I will devour you.' Then the miller +was afraid, and made his paws white for him. Truly, this is the way of +mankind. + +So now the wretch went for the third time to the house-door, knocked +at it and said: 'Open the door for me, children, your dear little +mother has come home, and has brought every one of you something back +from the forest with her.' The little kids cried: 'First show us your +paws that we may know if you are our dear little mother.' Then he put +his paws in through the window and when the kids saw that they were +white, they believed that all he said was true, and opened the door. +But who should come in but the wolf! They were terrified and wanted to +hide themselves. One sprang under the table, the second into the bed, +the third into the stove, the fourth into the kitchen, the fifth into +the cupboard, the sixth under the washing-bowl, and the seventh into +the clock-case. But the wolf found them all, and used no great +ceremony; one after the other he swallowed them down his throat. The +youngest, who was in the clock-case, was the only one he did not find. +When the wolf had satisfied his appetite he took himself off, laid +himself down under a tree in the green meadow outside, and began to +sleep. Soon afterwards the old goat came home again from the forest. +Ah! what a sight she saw there! The house-door stood wide open. The +table, chairs, and benches were thrown down, the washing-bowl lay +broken to pieces, and the quilts and pillows were pulled off the bed. +She sought her children, but they were nowhere to be found. She called +them one after another by name, but no one answered. At last, when she +came to the youngest, a soft voice cried: 'Dear mother, I am in the +clock-case.' She took the kid out, and it told her that the wolf had +come and had eaten all the others. Then you may imagine how she wept +over her poor children. + +At length in her grief she went out, and the youngest kid ran with +her. When they came to the meadow, there lay the wolf by the tree and +snored so loud that the branches shook. She looked at him on every +side and saw that something was moving and struggling in his gorged +belly. 'Ah, heavens,' she said, 'is it possible that my poor children +whom he has swallowed down for his supper, can be still alive?' Then +the kid had to run home and fetch scissors, and a needle and thread, +and the goat cut open the monster's stomach, and hardly had she made +one cut, than one little kid thrust its head out, and when she had cut +farther, all six sprang out one after another, and were all still +alive, and had suffered no injury whatever, for in his greediness the +monster had swallowed them down whole. What rejoicing there was! They +embraced their dear mother, and jumped like a tailor at his wedding. +The mother, however, said: 'Now go and look for some big stones, and +we will fill the wicked beast's stomach with them while he is still +asleep.' Then the seven kids dragged the stones thither with all +speed, and put as many of them into this stomach as they could get in; +and the mother sewed him up again in the greatest haste, so that he +was not aware of anything and never once stirred. + +When the wolf at length had had his fill of sleep, he got on his legs, +and as the stones in his stomach made him very thirsty, he wanted to +go to a well to drink. But when he began to walk and to move about, +the stones in his stomach knocked against each other and rattled. Then +cried he: + + 'What rumbles and tumbles + Against my poor bones? + I thought 'twas six kids, + But it feels like big stones.' + +And when he got to the well and stooped over the water to drink, the +heavy stones made him fall in, and he drowned miserably. When the +seven kids saw that, they came running to the spot and cried aloud: +'The wolf is dead! The wolf is dead!' and danced for joy round about +the well with their mother. + + + +THE QUEEN BEE + +Two kings' sons once upon a time went into the world to seek their +fortunes; but they soon fell into a wasteful foolish way of living, so +that they could not return home again. Then their brother, who was a +little insignificant dwarf, went out to seek for his brothers: but +when he had found them they only laughed at him, to think that he, who +was so young and simple, should try to travel through the world, when +they, who were so much wiser, had been unable to get on. However, they +all set out on their journey together, and came at last to an ant- +hill. The two elder brothers would have pulled it down, in order to +see how the poor ants in their fright would run about and carry off +their eggs. But the little dwarf said, 'Let the poor things enjoy +themselves, I will not suffer you to trouble them.' + +So on they went, and came to a lake where many many ducks were +swimming about. The two brothers wanted to catch two, and roast them. +But the dwarf said, 'Let the poor things enjoy themselves, you shall +not kill them.' Next they came to a bees'-nest in a hollow tree, and +there was so much honey that it ran down the trunk; and the two +brothers wanted to light a fire under the tree and kill the bees, so +as to get their honey. But the dwarf held them back, and said, 'Let +the pretty insects enjoy themselves, I cannot let you burn them.' + +At length the three brothers came to a castle: and as they passed by +the stables they saw fine horses standing there, but all were of +marble, and no man was to be seen. Then they went through all the +rooms, till they came to a door on which were three locks: but in the +middle of the door was a wicket, so that they could look into the next +room. There they saw a little grey old man sitting at a table; and +they called to him once or twice, but he did not hear: however, they +called a third time, and then he rose and came out to them. + +He said nothing, but took hold of them and led them to a beautiful +table covered with all sorts of good things: and when they had eaten +and drunk, he showed each of them to a bed-chamber. + +The next morning he came to the eldest and took him to a marble table, +where there were three tablets, containing an account of the means by +which the castle might be disenchanted. The first tablet said: 'In the +wood, under the moss, lie the thousand pearls belonging to the king's +daughter; they must all be found: and if one be missing by set of sun, +he who seeks them will be turned into marble.' + +The eldest brother set out, and sought for the pearls the whole day: +but the evening came, and he had not found the first hundred: so he +was turned into stone as the tablet had foretold. + +The next day the second brother undertook the task; but he succeeded +no better than the first; for he could only find the second hundred of +the pearls; and therefore he too was turned into stone. + +At last came the little dwarf's turn; and he looked in the moss; but +it was so hard to find the pearls, and the job was so tiresome!--so he +sat down upon a stone and cried. And as he sat there, the king of the +ants (whose life he had saved) came to help him, with five thousand +ants; and it was not long before they had found all the pearls and +laid them in a heap. + +The second tablet said: 'The key of the princess's bed-chamber must be +fished up out of the lake.' And as the dwarf came to the brink of it, +he saw the two ducks whose lives he had saved swimming about; and they +dived down and soon brought in the key from the bottom. + +The third task was the hardest. It was to choose out the youngest and +the best of the king's three daughters. Now they were all beautiful, +and all exactly alike: but he was told that the eldest had eaten a +piece of sugar, the next some sweet syrup, and the youngest a spoonful +of honey; so he was to guess which it was that had eaten the honey. + +Then came the queen of the bees, who had been saved by the little +dwarf from the fire, and she tried the lips of all three; but at last +she sat upon the lips of the one that had eaten the honey: and so the +dwarf knew which was the youngest. Thus the spell was broken, and all +who had been turned into stones awoke, and took their proper forms. +And the dwarf married the youngest and the best of the princesses, and +was king after her father's death; but his two brothers married the +other two sisters. + + + +THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER + +There was once a shoemaker, who worked very hard and was very honest: +but still he could not earn enough to live upon; and at last all he +had in the world was gone, save just leather enough to make one pair +of shoes. + +Then he cut his leather out, all ready to make up the next day, +meaning to rise early in the morning to his work. His conscience was +clear and his heart light amidst all his troubles; so he went +peaceably to bed, left all his cares to Heaven, and soon fell asleep. +In the morning after he had said his prayers, he sat himself down to +his work; when, to his great wonder, there stood the shoes all ready +made, upon the table. The good man knew not what to say or think at +such an odd thing happening. He looked at the workmanship; there was +not one false stitch in the whole job; all was so neat and true, that +it was quite a masterpiece. + +The same day a customer came in, and the shoes suited him so well that +he willingly paid a price higher than usual for them; and the poor +shoemaker, with the money, bought leather enough to make two pairs +more. In the evening he cut out the work, and went to bed early, that +he might get up and begin betimes next day; but he was saved all the +trouble, for when he got up in the morning the work was done ready to +his hand. Soon in came buyers, who paid him handsomely for his goods, +so that he bought leather enough for four pair more. He cut out the +work again overnight and found it done in the morning, as before; and +so it went on for some time: what was got ready in the evening was +always done by daybreak, and the good man soon became thriving and +well off again. + +One evening, about Christmas-time, as he and his wife were sitting +over the fire chatting together, he said to her, 'I should like to sit +up and watch tonight, that we may see who it is that comes and does my +work for me.' The wife liked the thought; so they left a light +burning, and hid themselves in a corner of the room, behind a curtain +that was hung up there, and watched what would happen. + +As soon as it was midnight, there came in two little naked dwarfs; and +they sat themselves upon the shoemaker's bench, took up all the work +that was cut out, and began to ply with their little fingers, +stitching and rapping and tapping away at such a rate, that the +shoemaker was all wonder, and could not take his eyes off them. And on +they went, till the job was quite done, and the shoes stood ready for +use upon the table. This was long before daybreak; and then they +bustled away as quick as lightning. + +The next day the wife said to the shoemaker. 'These little wights have +made us rich, and we ought to be thankful to them, and do them a good +turn if we can. I am quite sorry to see them run about as they do; and +indeed it is not very decent, for they have nothing upon their backs +to keep off the cold. I'll tell you what, I will make each of them a +shirt, and a coat and waistcoat, and a pair of pantaloons into the +bargain; and do you make each of them a little pair of shoes.' + +The thought pleased the good cobbler very much; and one evening, when +all the things were ready, they laid them on the table, instead of the +work that they used to cut out, and then went and hid themselves, to +watch what the little elves would do. + +About midnight in they came, dancing and skipping, hopped round the +room, and then went to sit down to their work as usual; but when they +saw the clothes lying for them, they laughed and chuckled, and seemed +mightily delighted. + +Then they dressed themselves in the twinkling of an eye, and danced +and capered and sprang about, as merry as could be; till at last they +danced out at the door, and away over the green. + +The good couple saw them no more; but everything went well with them +from that time forward, as long as they lived. + + + +THE JUNIPER-TREE + +Long, long ago, some two thousand years or so, there lived a rich man +with a good and beautiful wife. They loved each other dearly, but +sorrowed much that they had no children. So greatly did they desire to +have one, that the wife prayed for it day and night, but still they +remained childless. + +In front of the house there was a court, in which grew a juniper-tree. +One winter's day the wife stood under the tree to peel some apples, +and as she was peeling them, she cut her finger, and the blood fell on +the snow. 'Ah,' sighed the woman heavily, 'if I had but a child, as +red as blood and as white as snow,' and as she spoke the words, her +heart grew light within her, and it seemed to her that her wish was +granted, and she returned to the house feeling glad and comforted. A +month passed, and the snow had all disappeared; then another month +went by, and all the earth was green. So the months followed one +another, and first the trees budded in the woods, and soon the green +branches grew thickly intertwined, and then the blossoms began to +fall. Once again the wife stood under the juniper-tree, and it was so +full of sweet scent that her heart leaped for joy, and she was so +overcome with her happiness, that she fell on her knees. Presently the +fruit became round and firm, and she was glad and at peace; but when +they were fully ripe she picked the berries and ate eagerly of them, +and then she grew sad and ill. A little while later she called her +husband, and said to him, weeping. 'If I die, bury me under the +juniper-tree.' Then she felt comforted and happy again, and before +another month had passed she had a little child, and when she saw that +it was as white as snow and as red as blood, her joy was so great that +she died. + +Her husband buried her under the juniper-tree, and wept bitterly for +her. By degrees, however, his sorrow grew less, and although at times +he still grieved over his loss, he was able to go about as usual, and +later on he married again. + +He now had a little daughter born to him; the child of his first wife +was a boy, who was as red as blood and as white as snow. The mother +loved her daughter very much, and when she looked at her and then +looked at the boy, it pierced her heart to think that he would always +stand in the way of her own child, and she was continually thinking +how she could get the whole of the property for her. This evil thought +took possession of her more and more, and made her behave very +unkindly to the boy. She drove him from place to place with cuffings +and buffetings, so that the poor child went about in fear, and had no +peace from the time he left school to the time he went back. + +One day the little daughter came running to her mother in the store- +room, and said, 'Mother, give me an apple.' 'Yes, my child,' said the +wife, and she gave her a beautiful apple out of the chest; the chest +had a very heavy lid and a large iron lock. + +'Mother,' said the little daughter again, 'may not brother have one +too?' The mother was angry at this, but she answered, 'Yes, when he +comes out of school.' + +Just then she looked out of the window and saw him coming, and it +seemed as if an evil spirit entered into her, for she snatched the +apple out of her little daughter's hand, and said, 'You shall not have +one before your brother.' She threw the apple into the chest and shut +it to. The little boy now came in, and the evil spirit in the wife +made her say kindly to him, 'My son, will you have an apple?' but she +gave him a wicked look. 'Mother,' said the boy, 'how dreadful you +look! Yes, give me an apple.' The thought came to her that she would +kill him. 'Come with me,' she said, and she lifted up the lid of the +chest; 'take one out for yourself.' And as he bent over to do so, the +evil spirit urged her, and crash! down went the lid, and off went the +little boy's head. Then she was overwhelmed with fear at the thought +of what she had done. 'If only I can prevent anyone knowing that I did +it,' she thought. So she went upstairs to her room, and took a white +handkerchief out of her top drawer; then she set the boy's head again +on his shoulders, and bound it with the handkerchief so that nothing +could be seen, and placed him on a chair by the door with an apple in +his hand. + +Soon after this, little Marleen came up to her mother who was stirring +a pot of boiling water over the fire, and said, 'Mother, brother is +sitting by the door with an apple in his hand, and he looks so pale; +and when I asked him to give me the apple, he did not answer, and that +frightened me.' + +'Go to him again,' said her mother, 'and if he does not answer, give +him a box on the ear.' So little Marleen went, and said, 'Brother, +give me that apple,' but he did not say a word; then she gave him a +box on the ear, and his head rolled off. She was so terrified at this, +that she ran crying and screaming to her mother. 'Oh!' she said, 'I +have knocked off brother's head,' and then she wept and wept, and +nothing would stop her. + +'What have you done!' said her mother, 'but no one must know about it, +so you must keep silence; what is done can't be undone; we will make +him into puddings.' And she took the little boy and cut him up, made +him into puddings, and put him in the pot. But Marleen stood looking +on, and wept and wept, and her tears fell into the pot, so that there +was no need of salt. + +Presently the father came home and sat down to his dinner; he asked, +'Where is my son?' The mother said nothing, but gave him a large dish +of black pudding, and Marleen still wept without ceasing. + +The father again asked, 'Where is my son?' + +'Oh,' answered the wife, 'he is gone into the country to his mother's +great uncle; he is going to stay there some time.' + +'What has he gone there for, and he never even said goodbye to me!' + +'Well, he likes being there, and he told me he should be away quite +six weeks; he is well looked after there.' + +'I feel very unhappy about it,' said the husband, 'in case it should +not be all right, and he ought to have said goodbye to me.' + +With this he went on with his dinner, and said, 'Little Marleen, why +do you weep? Brother will soon be back.' Then he asked his wife for +more pudding, and as he ate, he threw the bones under the table. + +Little Marleen went upstairs and took her best silk handkerchief out +of her bottom drawer, and in it she wrapped all the bones from under +the table and carried them outside, and all the time she did nothing +but weep. Then she laid them in the green grass under the juniper- +tree, and she had no sooner done so, then all her sadness seemed to +leave her, and she wept no more. And now the juniper-tree began to +move, and the branches waved backwards and forwards, first away from +one another, and then together again, as it might be someone clapping +their hands for joy. After this a mist came round the tree, and in the +midst of it there was a burning as of fire, and out of the fire there +flew a beautiful bird, that rose high into the air, singing +magnificently, and when it could no more be seen, the juniper-tree +stood there as before, and the silk handkerchief and the bones were +gone. + +Little Marleen now felt as lighthearted and happy as if her brother +were still alive, and she went back to the house and sat down +cheerfully to the table and ate. + +The bird flew away and alighted on the house of a goldsmith and began +to sing: + + 'My mother killed her little son; + My father grieved when I was gone; + My sister loved me best of all; + She laid her kerchief over me, + And took my bones that they might lie + Underneath the juniper-tree + Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!' + +The goldsmith was in his workshop making a gold chain, when he heard +the song of the bird on his roof. He thought it so beautiful that he +got up and ran out, and as he crossed the threshold he lost one of his +slippers. But he ran on into the middle of the street, with a slipper +on one foot and a sock on the other; he still had on his apron, and +still held the gold chain and the pincers in his hands, and so he +stood gazing up at the bird, while the sun came shining brightly down +on the street. + +'Bird,' he said, 'how beautifully you sing! Sing me that song again.' + +'Nay,' said the bird, 'I do not sing twice for nothing. Give that gold +chain, and I will sing it you again.' + +'Here is the chain, take it,' said the goldsmith. 'Only sing me that +again.' + +The bird flew down and took the gold chain in his right claw, and then +he alighted again in front of the goldsmith and sang: + + 'My mother killed her little son; + My father grieved when I was gone; + My sister loved me best of all; + She laid her kerchief over me, + And took my bones that they might lie + Underneath the juniper-tree + Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!' + +Then he flew away, and settled on the roof of a shoemaker's house and +sang: + + 'My mother killed her little son; + My father grieved when I was gone; + My sister loved me best of all; + She laid her kerchief over me, + And took my bones that they might lie + Underneath the juniper-tree + Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!' + +The shoemaker heard him, and he jumped up and ran out in his shirt- +sleeves, and stood looking up at the bird on the roof with his hand +over his eyes to keep himself from being blinded by the sun. + +'Bird,' he said, 'how beautifully you sing!' Then he called through +the door to his wife: 'Wife, come out; here is a bird, come and look +at it and hear how beautifully it sings.' Then he called his daughter +and the children, then the apprentices, girls and boys, and they all +ran up the street to look at the bird, and saw how splendid it was +with its red and green feathers, and its neck like burnished gold, and +eyes like two bright stars in its head. + +'Bird,' said the shoemaker, 'sing me that song again.' + +'Nay,' answered the bird, 'I do not sing twice for nothing; you must +give me something.' + +'Wife,' said the man, 'go into the garret; on the upper shelf you will +see a pair of red shoes; bring them to me.' The wife went in and +fetched the shoes. + +'There, bird,' said the shoemaker, 'now sing me that song again.' + +The bird flew down and took the red shoes in his left claw, and then +he went back to the roof and sang: + + 'My mother killed her little son; + My father grieved when I was gone; + My sister loved me best of all; + She laid her kerchief over me, + And took my bones that they might lie + Underneath the juniper-tree + Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!' + +When he had finished, he flew away. He had the chain in his right claw +and the shoes in his left, and he flew right away to a mill, and the +mill went 'Click clack, click clack, click clack.' Inside the mill +were twenty of the miller's men hewing a stone, and as they went 'Hick +hack, hick hack, hick hack,' the mill went 'Click clack, click clack, +click clack.' + +The bird settled on a lime-tree in front of the mill and sang: + + 'My mother killed her little son; + +then one of the men left off, + + My father grieved when I was gone; + +two more men left off and listened, + + My sister loved me best of all; + +then four more left off, + + She laid her kerchief over me, + And took my bones that they might lie + +now there were only eight at work, + + Underneath + +And now only five, + +the juniper-tree. + +and now only one, + + Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!' + +then he looked up and the last one had left off work. + +'Bird,' he said, 'what a beautiful song that is you sing! Let me hear +it too; sing it again.' + +'Nay,' answered the bird, 'I do not sing twice for nothing; give me +that millstone, and I will sing it again.' + +'If it belonged to me alone,' said the man, 'you should have it.' + +'Yes, yes,' said the others: 'if he will sing again, he can have it.' + +The bird came down, and all the twenty millers set to and lifted up +the stone with a beam; then the bird put his head through the hole and +took the stone round his neck like a collar, and flew back with it to +the tree and sang-- + + 'My mother killed her little son; + My father grieved when I was gone; + My sister loved me best of all; + She laid her kerchief over me, + And took my bones that they might lie + Underneath the juniper-tree + Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!' + +And when he had finished his song, he spread his wings, and with the +chain in his right claw, the shoes in his left, and the millstone +round his neck, he flew right away to his father's house. + +The father, the mother, and little Marleen were having their dinner. + +'How lighthearted I feel,' said the father, 'so pleased and cheerful.' + +'And I,' said the mother, 'I feel so uneasy, as if a heavy +thunderstorm were coming.' + +But little Marleen sat and wept and wept. + +Then the bird came flying towards the house and settled on the roof. + +'I do feel so happy,' said the father, 'and how beautifully the sun +shines; I feel just as if I were going to see an old friend again.' + +'Ah!' said the wife, 'and I am so full of distress and uneasiness that +my teeth chatter, and I feel as if there were a fire in my veins,' and +she tore open her dress; and all the while little Marleen sat in the +corner and wept, and the plate on her knees was wet with her tears. + +The bird now flew to the juniper-tree and began singing: + + 'My mother killed her little son; + +the mother shut her eyes and her ears, that she might see and hear +nothing, but there was a roaring sound in her ears like that of a +violent storm, and in her eyes a burning and flashing like lightning: + + My father grieved when I was gone; + +'Look, mother,' said the man, 'at the beautiful bird that is singing +so magnificently; and how warm and bright the sun is, and what a +delicious scent of spice in the air!' + + My sister loved me best of all; + +then little Marleen laid her head down on her knees and sobbed. + +'I must go outside and see the bird nearer,' said the man. + +'Ah, do not go!' cried the wife. 'I feel as if the whole house were in +flames!' + +But the man went out and looked at the bird. + + She laid her kerchief over me, + And took my bones that they might lie + Underneath the juniper-tree + Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!' + +With that the bird let fall the gold chain, and it fell just round the +man's neck, so that it fitted him exactly. + +He went inside, and said, 'See, what a splendid bird that is; he has +given me this beautiful gold chain, and looks so beautiful himself.' + +But the wife was in such fear and trouble, that she fell on the floor, +and her cap fell from her head. + +Then the bird began again: + + 'My mother killed her little son; + +'Ah me!' cried the wife, 'if I were but a thousand feet beneath the +earth, that I might not hear that song.' + + My father grieved when I was gone; + +then the woman fell down again as if dead. + + My sister loved me best of all; + +'Well,' said little Marleen, 'I will go out too and see if the bird +will give me anything.' + +So she went out. + + She laid her kerchief over me, + And took my bones that they might lie + +and he threw down the shoes to her, + + Underneath the juniper-tree + Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!' + +And she now felt quite happy and lighthearted; she put on the shoes +and danced and jumped about in them. 'I was so miserable,' she said, +'when I came out, but that has all passed away; that is indeed a +splendid bird, and he has given me a pair of red shoes.' + +The wife sprang up, with her hair standing out from her head like +flames of fire. 'Then I will go out too,' she said, 'and see if it +will lighten my misery, for I feel as if the world were coming to an +end.' + +But as she crossed the threshold, crash! the bird threw the millstone +down on her head, and she was crushed to death. + +The father and little Marleen heard the sound and ran out, but they +only saw mist and flame and fire rising from the spot, and when these +had passed, there stood the little brother, and he took the father and +little Marleen by the hand; then they all three rejoiced, and went +inside together and sat down to their dinners and ate. + + + +THE TURNIP + +There were two brothers who were both soldiers; the one was rich and +the other poor. The poor man thought he would try to better himself; +so, pulling off his red coat, he became a gardener, and dug his ground +well, and sowed turnips. + +When the seed came up, there was one plant bigger than all the rest; +and it kept getting larger and larger, and seemed as if it would never +cease growing; so that it might have been called the prince of turnips +for there never was such a one seen before, and never will again. At +last it was so big that it filled a cart, and two oxen could hardly +draw it; and the gardener knew not what in the world to do with it, +nor whether it would be a blessing or a curse to him. One day he said +to himself, 'What shall I do with it? if I sell it, it will bring no +more than another; and for eating, the little turnips are better than +this; the best thing perhaps is to carry it and give it to the king as +a mark of respect.' + +Then he yoked his oxen, and drew the turnip to the court, and gave it +to the king. 'What a wonderful thing!' said the king; 'I have seen +many strange things, but such a monster as this I never saw. Where did +you get the seed? or is it only your good luck? If so, you are a true +child of fortune.' 'Ah, no!' answered the gardener, 'I am no child of +fortune; I am a poor soldier, who never could get enough to live upon; +so I laid aside my red coat, and set to work, tilling the ground. I +have a brother, who is rich, and your majesty knows him well, and all +the world knows him; but because I am poor, everybody forgets me.' + +The king then took pity on him, and said, 'You shall be poor no +longer. I will give you so much that you shall be even richer than +your brother.' Then he gave him gold and lands and flocks, and made +him so rich that his brother's fortune could not at all be compared +with his. + +When the brother heard of all this, and how a turnip had made the +gardener so rich, he envied him sorely, and bethought himself how he +could contrive to get the same good fortune for himself. However, he +determined to manage more cleverly than his brother, and got together +a rich present of gold and fine horses for the king; and thought he +must have a much larger gift in return; for if his brother had +received so much for only a turnip, what must his present be wroth? + +The king took the gift very graciously, and said he knew not what to +give in return more valuable and wonderful than the great turnip; so +the soldier was forced to put it into a cart, and drag it home with +him. When he reached home, he knew not upon whom to vent his rage and +spite; and at length wicked thoughts came into his head, and he +resolved to kill his brother. + +So he hired some villains to murder him; and having shown them where +to lie in ambush, he went to his brother, and said, 'Dear brother, I +have found a hidden treasure; let us go and dig it up, and share it +between us.' The other had no suspicions of his roguery: so they went +out together, and as they were travelling along, the murderers rushed +out upon him, bound him, and were going to hang him on a tree. + +But whilst they were getting all ready, they heard the trampling of a +horse at a distance, which so frightened them that they pushed their +prisoner neck and shoulders together into a sack, and swung him up by +a cord to the tree, where they left him dangling, and ran away. +Meantime he worked and worked away, till he made a hole large enough +to put out his head. + +When the horseman came up, he proved to be a student, a merry fellow, +who was journeying along on his nag, and singing as he went. As soon +as the man in the sack saw him passing under the tree, he cried out, +'Good morning! good morning to thee, my friend!' The student looked +about everywhere; and seeing no one, and not knowing where the voice +came from, cried out, 'Who calls me?' + +Then the man in the tree answered, 'Lift up thine eyes, for behold +here I sit in the sack of wisdom; here have I, in a short time, +learned great and wondrous things. Compared to this seat, all the +learning of the schools is as empty air. A little longer, and I shall +know all that man can know, and shall come forth wiser than the wisest +of mankind. Here I discern the signs and motions of the heavens and +the stars; the laws that control the winds; the number of the sands on +the seashore; the healing of the sick; the virtues of all simples, of +birds, and of precious stones. Wert thou but once here, my friend, +though wouldst feel and own the power of knowledge. + +The student listened to all this and wondered much; at last he said, +'Blessed be the day and hour when I found you; cannot you contrive to +let me into the sack for a little while?' Then the other answered, as +if very unwillingly, 'A little space I may allow thee to sit here, if +thou wilt reward me well and entreat me kindly; but thou must tarry +yet an hour below, till I have learnt some little matters that are yet +unknown to me.' + +So the student sat himself down and waited a while; but the time hung +heavy upon him, and he begged earnestly that he might ascend +forthwith, for his thirst for knowledge was great. Then the other +pretended to give way, and said, 'Thou must let the sack of wisdom +descend, by untying yonder cord, and then thou shalt enter.' So the +student let him down, opened the sack, and set him free. 'Now then,' +cried he, 'let me ascend quickly.' As he began to put himself into the +sack heels first, 'Wait a while,' said the gardener, 'that is not the +way.' Then he pushed him in head first, tied up the sack, and soon +swung up the searcher after wisdom dangling in the air. 'How is it +with thee, friend?' said he, 'dost thou not feel that wisdom comes +unto thee? Rest there in peace, till thou art a wiser man than thou +wert.' + +So saying, he trotted off on the student's nag, and left the poor +fellow to gather wisdom till somebody should come and let him down. + + + +CLEVER HANS + +The mother of Hans said: 'Whither away, Hans?' Hans answered: 'To +Gretel.' 'Behave well, Hans.' 'Oh, I'll behave well. Goodbye, mother.' +'Goodbye, Hans.' Hans comes to Gretel. 'Good day, Gretel.' 'Good day, +Hans. What do you bring that is good?' 'I bring nothing, I want to +have something given me.' Gretel presents Hans with a needle, Hans +says: 'Goodbye, Gretel.' 'Goodbye, Hans.' + +Hans takes the needle, sticks it into a hay-cart, and follows the cart +home. 'Good evening, mother.' 'Good evening, Hans. Where have you +been?' 'With Gretel.' 'What did you take her?' 'Took nothing; had +something given me.' 'What did Gretel give you?' 'Gave me a needle.' +'Where is the needle, Hans?' 'Stuck in the hay-cart.' 'That was ill +done, Hans. You should have stuck the needle in your sleeve.' 'Never +mind, I'll do better next time.' + +'Whither away, Hans?' 'To Gretel, mother.' 'Behave well, Hans.' 'Oh, +I'll behave well. Goodbye, mother.' 'Goodbye, Hans.' Hans comes to +Gretel. 'Good day, Gretel.' 'Good day, Hans. What do you bring that is +good?' 'I bring nothing. I want to have something given to me.' Gretel +presents Hans with a knife. 'Goodbye, Gretel.' 'Goodbye, Hans.' Hans +takes the knife, sticks it in his sleeve, and goes home. 'Good +evening, mother.' 'Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?' 'With +Gretel.' What did you take her?' 'Took her nothing, she gave me +something.' 'What did Gretel give you?' 'Gave me a knife.' 'Where is +the knife, Hans?' 'Stuck in my sleeve.' 'That's ill done, Hans, you +should have put the knife in your pocket.' 'Never mind, will do better +next time.' + +'Whither away, Hans?' 'To Gretel, mother.' 'Behave well, Hans.' 'Oh, +I'll behave well. Goodbye, mother.' 'Goodbye, Hans.' Hans comes to +Gretel. 'Good day, Gretel.' 'Good day, Hans. What good thing do you +bring?' 'I bring nothing, I want something given me.' Gretel presents +Hans with a young goat. 'Goodbye, Gretel.' 'Goodbye, Hans.' Hans takes +the goat, ties its legs, and puts it in his pocket. When he gets home +it is suffocated. 'Good evening, mother.' 'Good evening, Hans. Where +have you been?' 'With Gretel.' 'What did you take her?' 'Took nothing, +she gave me something.' 'What did Gretel give you?' 'She gave me a +goat.' 'Where is the goat, Hans?' 'Put it in my pocket.' 'That was ill +done, Hans, you should have put a rope round the goat's neck.' 'Never +mind, will do better next time.' + +'Whither away, Hans?' 'To Gretel, mother.' 'Behave well, Hans.' 'Oh, +I'll behave well. Goodbye, mother.' 'Goodbye, Hans.' Hans comes to +Gretel. 'Good day, Gretel.' 'Good day, Hans. What good thing do you +bring?' 'I bring nothing, I want something given me.' Gretel presents +Hans with a piece of bacon. 'Goodbye, Gretel.' 'Goodbye, Hans.' + +Hans takes the bacon, ties it to a rope, and drags it away behind him. +The dogs come and devour the bacon. When he gets home, he has the rope +in his hand, and there is no longer anything hanging on to it. 'Good +evening, mother.' 'Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?' 'With +Gretel.' 'What did you take her?' 'I took her nothing, she gave me +something.' 'What did Gretel give you?' 'Gave me a bit of bacon.' +'Where is the bacon, Hans?' 'I tied it to a rope, brought it home, +dogs took it.' 'That was ill done, Hans, you should have carried the +bacon on your head.' 'Never mind, will do better next time.' + +'Whither away, Hans?' 'To Gretel, mother.' 'Behave well, Hans.' 'I'll +behave well. Goodbye, mother.' 'Goodbye, Hans.' Hans comes to Gretel. +'Good day, Gretel.' 'Good day, Hans, What good thing do you bring?' 'I +bring nothing, but would have something given.' Gretel presents Hans +with a calf. 'Goodbye, Gretel.' 'Goodbye, Hans.' + +Hans takes the calf, puts it on his head, and the calf kicks his face. +'Good evening, mother.' 'Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?' +'With Gretel.' 'What did you take her?' 'I took nothing, but had +something given me.' 'What did Gretel give you?' 'A calf.' 'Where have +you the calf, Hans?' 'I set it on my head and it kicked my face.' +'That was ill done, Hans, you should have led the calf, and put it in +the stall.' 'Never mind, will do better next time.' + +'Whither away, Hans?' 'To Gretel, mother.' 'Behave well, Hans.' 'I'll +behave well. Goodbye, mother.' 'Goodbye, Hans.' + +Hans comes to Gretel. 'Good day, Gretel.' 'Good day, Hans. What good +thing do you bring?' 'I bring nothing, but would have something +given.' Gretel says to Hans: 'I will go with you.' + +Hans takes Gretel, ties her to a rope, leads her to the rack, and +binds her fast. Then Hans goes to his mother. 'Good evening, mother.' +'Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?' 'With Gretel.' 'What did +you take her?' 'I took her nothing.' 'What did Gretel give you?' 'She +gave me nothing, she came with me.' 'Where have you left Gretel?' 'I +led her by the rope, tied her to the rack, and scattered some grass +for her.' 'That was ill done, Hans, you should have cast friendly eyes +on her.' 'Never mind, will do better.' + +Hans went into the stable, cut out all the calves' and sheep's eyes, +and threw them in Gretel's face. Then Gretel became angry, tore +herself loose and ran away, and was no longer the bride of Hans. + + + +THE THREE LANGUAGES + +An aged count once lived in Switzerland, who had an only son, but he +was stupid, and could learn nothing. Then said the father: 'Hark you, +my son, try as I will I can get nothing into your head. You must go +from hence, I will give you into the care of a celebrated master, who +shall see what he can do with you.' The youth was sent into a strange +town, and remained a whole year with the master. At the end of this +time, he came home again, and his father asked: 'Now, my son, what +have you learnt?' 'Father, I have learnt what the dogs say when they +bark.' 'Lord have mercy on us!' cried the father; 'is that all you +have learnt? I will send you into another town, to another master.' +The youth was taken thither, and stayed a year with this master +likewise. When he came back the father again asked: 'My son, what have +you learnt?' He answered: 'Father, I have learnt what the birds say.' +Then the father fell into a rage and said: 'Oh, you lost man, you have +spent the precious time and learnt nothing; are you not ashamed to +appear before my eyes? I will send you to a third master, but if you +learn nothing this time also, I will no longer be your father.' The +youth remained a whole year with the third master also, and when he +came home again, and his father inquired: 'My son, what have you +learnt?' he answered: 'Dear father, I have this year learnt what the +frogs croak.' Then the father fell into the most furious anger, sprang +up, called his people thither, and said: 'This man is no longer my +son, I drive him forth, and command you to take him out into the +forest, and kill him.' They took him forth, but when they should have +killed him, they could not do it for pity, and let him go, and they +cut the eyes and tongue out of a deer that they might carry them to +the old man as a token. + +The youth wandered on, and after some time came to a fortress where he +begged for a night's lodging. 'Yes,' said the lord of the castle, 'if +you will pass the night down there in the old tower, go thither; but I +warn you, it is at the peril of your life, for it is full of wild +dogs, which bark and howl without stopping, and at certain hours a man +has to be given to them, whom they at once devour.' The whole district +was in sorrow and dismay because of them, and yet no one could do +anything to stop this. The youth, however, was without fear, and said: +'Just let me go down to the barking dogs, and give me something that I +can throw to them; they will do nothing to harm me.' As he himself +would have it so, they gave him some food for the wild animals, and +led him down to the tower. When he went inside, the dogs did not bark +at him, but wagged their tails quite amicably around him, ate what he +set before them, and did not hurt one hair of his head. Next morning, +to the astonishment of everyone, he came out again safe and unharmed, +and said to the lord of the castle: 'The dogs have revealed to me, in +their own language, why they dwell there, and bring evil on the land. +They are bewitched, and are obliged to watch over a great treasure +which is below in the tower, and they can have no rest until it is +taken away, and I have likewise learnt, from their discourse, how that +is to be done.' Then all who heard this rejoiced, and the lord of the +castle said he would adopt him as a son if he accomplished it +successfully. He went down again, and as he knew what he had to do, he +did it thoroughly, and brought a chest full of gold out with him. The +howling of the wild dogs was henceforth heard no more; they had +disappeared, and the country was freed from the trouble. + +After some time he took it in his head that he would travel to Rome. +On the way he passed by a marsh, in which a number of frogs were +sitting croaking. He listened to them, and when he became aware of +what they were saying, he grew very thoughtful and sad. At last he +arrived in Rome, where the Pope had just died, and there was great +doubt among the cardinals as to whom they should appoint as his +successor. They at length agreed that the person should be chosen as +pope who should be distinguished by some divine and miraculous token. +And just as that was decided on, the young count entered into the +church, and suddenly two snow-white doves flew on his shoulders and +remained sitting there. The ecclesiastics recognized therein the token +from above, and asked him on the spot if he would be pope. He was +undecided, and knew not if he were worthy of this, but the doves +counselled him to do it, and at length he said yes. Then was he +anointed and consecrated, and thus was fulfilled what he had heard +from the frogs on his way, which had so affected him, that he was to +be his Holiness the Pope. Then he had to sing a mass, and did not know +one word of it, but the two doves sat continually on his shoulders, +and said it all in his ear. + + + +THE FOX AND THE CAT + +It happened that the cat met the fox in a forest, and as she thought +to herself: 'He is clever and full of experience, and much esteemed in +the world,' she spoke to him in a friendly way. 'Good day, dear Mr +Fox, how are you? How is all with you? How are you getting on in these +hard times?' The fox, full of all kinds of arrogance, looked at the +cat from head to foot, and for a long time did not know whether he +would give any answer or not. At last he said: 'Oh, you wretched +beard-cleaner, you piebald fool, you hungry mouse-hunter, what can you +be thinking of? Have you the cheek to ask how I am getting on? What +have you learnt? How many arts do you understand?' 'I understand but +one,' replied the cat, modestly. 'What art is that?' asked the fox. +'When the hounds are following me, I can spring into a tree and save +myself.' 'Is that all?' said the fox. 'I am master of a hundred arts, +and have into the bargain a sackful of cunning. You make me sorry for +you; come with me, I will teach you how people get away from the +hounds.' Just then came a hunter with four dogs. The cat sprang nimbly +up a tree, and sat down at the top of it, where the branches and +foliage quite concealed her. 'Open your sack, Mr Fox, open your sack,' +cried the cat to him, but the dogs had already seized him, and were +holding him fast. 'Ah, Mr Fox,' cried the cat. 'You with your hundred +arts are left in the lurch! Had you been able to climb like me, you +would not have lost your life.' + + + +THE FOUR CLEVER BROTHERS + +'Dear children,' said a poor man to his four sons, 'I have nothing to +give you; you must go out into the wide world and try your luck. Begin +by learning some craft or another, and see how you can get on.' So the +four brothers took their walking-sticks in their hands, and their +little bundles on their shoulders, and after bidding their father +goodbye, went all out at the gate together. When they had got on some +way they came to four crossways, each leading to a different country. +Then the eldest said, 'Here we must part; but this day four years we +will come back to this spot, and in the meantime each must try what he +can do for himself.' + +So each brother went his way; and as the eldest was hastening on a man +met him, and asked him where he was going, and what he wanted. 'I am +going to try my luck in the world, and should like to begin by +learning some art or trade,' answered he. 'Then,' said the man, 'go +with me, and I will teach you to become the cunningest thief that ever +was.' 'No,' said the other, 'that is not an honest calling, and what +can one look to earn by it in the end but the gallows?' 'Oh!' said the +man, 'you need not fear the gallows; for I will only teach you to +steal what will be fair game: I meddle with nothing but what no one +else can get or care anything about, and where no one can find you +out.' So the young man agreed to follow his trade, and he soon showed +himself so clever, that nothing could escape him that he had once set +his mind upon. + +The second brother also met a man, who, when he found out what he was +setting out upon, asked him what craft he meant to follow. 'I do not +know yet,' said he. 'Then come with me, and be a star-gazer. It is a +noble art, for nothing can be hidden from you, when once you +understand the stars.' The plan pleased him much, and he soon became +such a skilful star-gazer, that when he had served out his time, and +wanted to leave his master, he gave him a glass, and said, 'With this +you can see all that is passing in the sky and on earth, and nothing +can be hidden from you.' + +The third brother met a huntsman, who took him with him, and taught +him so well all that belonged to hunting, that he became very clever +in the craft of the woods; and when he left his master he gave him a +bow, and said, 'Whatever you shoot at with this bow you will be sure +to hit.' + +The youngest brother likewise met a man who asked him what he wished +to do. 'Would not you like,' said he, 'to be a tailor?' 'Oh, no!' said +the young man; 'sitting cross-legged from morning to night, working +backwards and forwards with a needle and goose, will never suit me.' +'Oh!' answered the man, 'that is not my sort of tailoring; come with +me, and you will learn quite another kind of craft from that.' Not +knowing what better to do, he came into the plan, and learnt tailoring +from the beginning; and when he left his master, he gave him a needle, +and said, 'You can sew anything with this, be it as soft as an egg or +as hard as steel; and the joint will be so fine that no seam will be +seen.' + +After the space of four years, at the time agreed upon, the four +brothers met at the four cross-roads; and having welcomed each other, +set off towards their father's home, where they told him all that had +happened to them, and how each had learned some craft. + +Then, one day, as they were sitting before the house under a very high +tree, the father said, 'I should like to try what each of you can do +in this way.' So he looked up, and said to the second son, 'At the top +of this tree there is a chaffinch's nest; tell me how many eggs there +are in it.' The star-gazer took his glass, looked up, and said, +'Five.' 'Now,' said the father to the eldest son, 'take away the eggs +without letting the bird that is sitting upon them and hatching them +know anything of what you are doing.' So the cunning thief climbed up +the tree, and brought away to his father the five eggs from under the +bird; and it never saw or felt what he was doing, but kept sitting on +at its ease. Then the father took the eggs, and put one on each corner +of the table, and the fifth in the middle, and said to the huntsman, +'Cut all the eggs in two pieces at one shot.' The huntsman took up his +bow, and at one shot struck all the five eggs as his father wished. + +'Now comes your turn,' said he to the young tailor; 'sew the eggs and +the young birds in them together again, so neatly that the shot shall +have done them no harm.' Then the tailor took his needle, and sewed +the eggs as he was told; and when he had done, the thief was sent to +take them back to the nest, and put them under the bird without its +knowing it. Then she went on sitting, and hatched them: and in a few +days they crawled out, and had only a little red streak across their +necks, where the tailor had sewn them together. + +'Well done, sons!' said the old man; 'you have made good use of your +time, and learnt something worth the knowing; but I am sure I do not +know which ought to have the prize. Oh, that a time might soon come +for you to turn your skill to some account!' + +Not long after this there was a great bustle in the country; for the +king's daughter had been carried off by a mighty dragon, and the king +mourned over his loss day and night, and made it known that whoever +brought her back to him should have her for a wife. Then the four +brothers said to each other, 'Here is a chance for us; let us try what +we can do.' And they agreed to see whether they could not set the +princess free. 'I will soon find out where she is, however,' said the +star-gazer, as he looked through his glass; and he soon cried out, 'I +see her afar off, sitting upon a rock in the sea, and I can spy the +dragon close by, guarding her.' Then he went to the king, and asked +for a ship for himself and his brothers; and they sailed together over +the sea, till they came to the right place. There they found the +princess sitting, as the star-gazer had said, on the rock; and the +dragon was lying asleep, with his head upon her lap. 'I dare not shoot +at him,' said the huntsman, 'for I should kill the beautiful young +lady also.' 'Then I will try my skill,' said the thief, and went and +stole her away from under the dragon, so quietly and gently that the +beast did not know it, but went on snoring. + +Then away they hastened with her full of joy in their boat towards the +ship; but soon came the dragon roaring behind them through the air; +for he awoke and missed the princess. But when he got over the boat, +and wanted to pounce upon them and carry off the princess, the +huntsman took up his bow and shot him straight through the heart so +that he fell down dead. They were still not safe; for he was such a +great beast that in his fall he overset the boat, and they had to swim +in the open sea upon a few planks. So the tailor took his needle, and +with a few large stitches put some of the planks together; and he sat +down upon these, and sailed about and gathered up all pieces of the +boat; and then tacked them together so quickly that the boat was soon +ready, and they then reached the ship and got home safe. + +When they had brought home the princess to her father, there was great +rejoicing; and he said to the four brothers, 'One of you shall marry +her, but you must settle amongst yourselves which it is to be.' Then +there arose a quarrel between them; and the star-gazer said, 'If I had +not found the princess out, all your skill would have been of no use; +therefore she ought to be mine.' 'Your seeing her would have been of +no use,' said the thief, 'if I had not taken her away from the dragon; +therefore she ought to be mine.' 'No, she is mine,' said the huntsman; +'for if I had not killed the dragon, he would, after all, have torn +you and the princess into pieces.' 'And if I had not sewn the boat +together again,' said the tailor, 'you would all have been drowned, +therefore she is mine.' Then the king put in a word, and said, 'Each +of you is right; and as all cannot have the young lady, the best way +is for neither of you to have her: for the truth is, there is somebody +she likes a great deal better. But to make up for your loss, I will +give each of you, as a reward for his skill, half a kingdom.' So the +brothers agreed that this plan would be much better than either +quarrelling or marrying a lady who had no mind to have them. And the +king then gave to each half a kingdom, as he had said; and they lived +very happily the rest of their days, and took good care of their +father; and somebody took better care of the young lady, than to let +either the dragon or one of the craftsmen have her again. + + + +LILY AND THE LION + +A merchant, who had three daughters, was once setting out upon a +journey; but before he went he asked each daughter what gift he should +bring back for her. The eldest wished for pearls; the second for +jewels; but the third, who was called Lily, said, 'Dear father, bring +me a rose.' Now it was no easy task to find a rose, for it was the +middle of winter; yet as she was his prettiest daughter, and was very +fond of flowers, her father said he would try what he could do. So he +kissed all three, and bid them goodbye. + +And when the time came for him to go home, he had bought pearls and +jewels for the two eldest, but he had sought everywhere in vain for +the rose; and when he went into any garden and asked for such a thing, +the people laughed at him, and asked him whether he thought roses grew +in snow. This grieved him very much, for Lily was his dearest child; +and as he was journeying home, thinking what he should bring her, he +came to a fine castle; and around the castle was a garden, in one half +of which it seemed to be summer-time and in the other half winter. On +one side the finest flowers were in full bloom, and on the other +everything looked dreary and buried in the snow. 'A lucky hit!' said +he, as he called to his servant, and told him to go to a beautiful bed +of roses that was there, and bring him away one of the finest flowers. + +This done, they were riding away well pleased, when up sprang a fierce +lion, and roared out, 'Whoever has stolen my roses shall be eaten up +alive!' Then the man said, 'I knew not that the garden belonged to +you; can nothing save my life?' 'No!' said the lion, 'nothing, unless +you undertake to give me whatever meets you on your return home; if +you agree to this, I will give you your life, and the rose too for +your daughter.' But the man was unwilling to do so and said, 'It may +be my youngest daughter, who loves me most, and always runs to meet me +when I go home.' Then the servant was greatly frightened, and said, +'It may perhaps be only a cat or a dog.' And at last the man yielded +with a heavy heart, and took the rose; and said he would give the lion +whatever should meet him first on his return. + +And as he came near home, it was Lily, his youngest and dearest +daughter, that met him; she came running, and kissed him, and welcomed +him home; and when she saw that he had brought her the rose, she was +still more glad. But her father began to be very sorrowful, and to +weep, saying, 'Alas, my dearest child! I have bought this flower at a +high price, for I have said I would give you to a wild lion; and when +he has you, he will tear you in pieces, and eat you.' Then he told her +all that had happened, and said she should not go, let what would +happen. + +But she comforted him, and said, 'Dear father, the word you have given +must be kept; I will go to the lion, and soothe him: perhaps he will +let me come safe home again.' + +The next morning she asked the way she was to go, and took leave of +her father, and went forth with a bold heart into the wood. But the +lion was an enchanted prince. By day he and all his court were lions, +but in the evening they took their right forms again. And when Lily +came to the castle, he welcomed her so courteously that she agreed to +marry him. The wedding-feast was held, and they lived happily together +a long time. The prince was only to be seen as soon as evening came, +and then he held his court; but every morning he left his bride, and +went away by himself, she knew not whither, till the night came again. + +After some time he said to her, 'Tomorrow there will be a great feast +in your father's house, for your eldest sister is to be married; and +if you wish to go and visit her my lions shall lead you thither.' Then +she rejoiced much at the thoughts of seeing her father once more, and +set out with the lions; and everyone was overjoyed to see her, for +they had thought her dead long since. But she told them how happy she +was, and stayed till the feast was over, and then went back to the +wood. + +Her second sister was soon after married, and when Lily was asked to +go to the wedding, she said to the prince, 'I will not go alone this +time--you must go with me.' But he would not, and said that it would +be a very hazardous thing; for if the least ray of the torch-light +should fall upon him his enchantment would become still worse, for he +should be changed into a dove, and be forced to wander about the world +for seven long years. However, she gave him no rest, and said she +would take care no light should fall upon him. So at last they set out +together, and took with them their little child; and she chose a large +hall with thick walls for him to sit in while the wedding-torches were +lighted; but, unluckily, no one saw that there was a crack in the +door. Then the wedding was held with great pomp, but as the train came +from the church, and passed with the torches before the hall, a very +small ray of light fell upon the prince. In a moment he disappeared, +and when his wife came in and looked for him, she found only a white +dove; and it said to her, 'Seven years must I fly up and down over the +face of the earth, but every now and then I will let fall a white +feather, that will show you the way I am going; follow it, and at last +you may overtake and set me free.' + +This said, he flew out at the door, and poor Lily followed; and every +now and then a white feather fell, and showed her the way she was to +journey. Thus she went roving on through the wide world, and looked +neither to the right hand nor to the left, nor took any rest, for +seven years. Then she began to be glad, and thought to herself that +the time was fast coming when all her troubles should end; yet repose +was still far off, for one day as she was travelling on she missed the +white feather, and when she lifted up her eyes she could nowhere see +the dove. 'Now,' thought she to herself, 'no aid of man can be of use +to me.' So she went to the sun and said, 'Thou shinest everywhere, on +the hill's top and the valley's depth--hast thou anywhere seen my +white dove?' 'No,' said the sun, 'I have not seen it; but I will give +thee a casket--open it when thy hour of need comes.' + +So she thanked the sun, and went on her way till eventide; and when +the moon arose, she cried unto it, and said, 'Thou shinest through the +night, over field and grove--hast thou nowhere seen my white dove?' +'No,' said the moon, 'I cannot help thee but I will give thee an egg-- +break it when need comes.' + +Then she thanked the moon, and went on till the night-wind blew; and +she raised up her voice to it, and said, 'Thou blowest through every +tree and under every leaf--hast thou not seen my white dove?' 'No,' +said the night-wind, 'but I will ask three other winds; perhaps they +have seen it.' Then the east wind and the west wind came, and said +they too had not seen it, but the south wind said, 'I have seen the +white dove--he has fled to the Red Sea, and is changed once more into +a lion, for the seven years are passed away, and there he is fighting +with a dragon; and the dragon is an enchanted princess, who seeks to +separate him from you.' Then the night-wind said, 'I will give thee +counsel. Go to the Red Sea; on the right shore stand many rods--count +them, and when thou comest to the eleventh, break it off, and smite +the dragon with it; and so the lion will have the victory, and both of +them will appear to you in their own forms. Then look round and thou +wilt see a griffin, winged like bird, sitting by the Red Sea; jump on +to his back with thy beloved one as quickly as possible, and he will +carry you over the waters to your home. I will also give thee this +nut,' continued the night-wind. 'When you are half-way over, throw it +down, and out of the waters will immediately spring up a high nut-tree +on which the griffin will be able to rest, otherwise he would not have +the strength to bear you the whole way; if, therefore, thou dost +forget to throw down the nut, he will let you both fall into the sea.' + +So our poor wanderer went forth, and found all as the night-wind had +said; and she plucked the eleventh rod, and smote the dragon, and the +lion forthwith became a prince, and the dragon a princess again. But +no sooner was the princess released from the spell, than she seized +the prince by the arm and sprang on to the griffin's back, and went +off carrying the prince away with her. + +Thus the unhappy traveller was again forsaken and forlorn; but she +took heart and said, 'As far as the wind blows, and so long as the +cock crows, I will journey on, till I find him once again.' She went +on for a long, long way, till at length she came to the castle whither +the princess had carried the prince; and there was a feast got ready, +and she heard that the wedding was about to be held. 'Heaven aid me +now!' said she; and she took the casket that the sun had given her, +and found that within it lay a dress as dazzling as the sun itself. So +she put it on, and went into the palace, and all the people gazed upon +her; and the dress pleased the bride so much that she asked whether it +was to be sold. 'Not for gold and silver.' said she, 'but for flesh +and blood.' The princess asked what she meant, and she said, 'Let me +speak with the bridegroom this night in his chamber, and I will give +thee the dress.' At last the princess agreed, but she told her +chamberlain to give the prince a sleeping draught, that he might not +hear or see her. When evening came, and the prince had fallen asleep, +she was led into his chamber, and she sat herself down at his feet, +and said: 'I have followed thee seven years. I have been to the sun, +the moon, and the night-wind, to seek thee, and at last I have helped +thee to overcome the dragon. Wilt thou then forget me quite?' But the +prince all the time slept so soundly, that her voice only passed over +him, and seemed like the whistling of the wind among the fir-trees. + +Then poor Lily was led away, and forced to give up the golden dress; +and when she saw that there was no help for her, she went out into a +meadow, and sat herself down and wept. But as she sat she bethought +herself of the egg that the moon had given her; and when she broke it, +there ran out a hen and twelve chickens of pure gold, that played +about, and then nestled under the old one's wings, so as to form the +most beautiful sight in the world. And she rose up and drove them +before her, till the bride saw them from her window, and was so +pleased that she came forth and asked her if she would sell the brood. +'Not for gold or silver, but for flesh and blood: let me again this +evening speak with the bridegroom in his chamber, and I will give thee +the whole brood.' + +Then the princess thought to betray her as before, and agreed to what +she asked: but when the prince went to his chamber he asked the +chamberlain why the wind had whistled so in the night. And the +chamberlain told him all--how he had given him a sleeping draught, and +how a poor maiden had come and spoken to him in his chamber, and was +to come again that night. Then the prince took care to throw away the +sleeping draught; and when Lily came and began again to tell him what +woes had befallen her, and how faithful and true to him she had been, +he knew his beloved wife's voice, and sprang up, and said, 'You have +awakened me as from a dream, for the strange princess had thrown a +spell around me, so that I had altogether forgotten you; but Heaven +hath sent you to me in a lucky hour.' + +And they stole away out of the palace by night unawares, and seated +themselves on the griffin, who flew back with them over the Red Sea. +When they were half-way across Lily let the nut fall into the water, +and immediately a large nut-tree arose from the sea, whereon the +griffin rested for a while, and then carried them safely home. There +they found their child, now grown up to be comely and fair; and after +all their troubles they lived happily together to the end of their +days. + + + +THE FOX AND THE HORSE + +A farmer had a horse that had been an excellent faithful servant to +him: but he was now grown too old to work; so the farmer would give +him nothing more to eat, and said, 'I want you no longer, so take +yourself off out of my stable; I shall not take you back again until +you are stronger than a lion.' Then he opened the door and turned him +adrift. + +The poor horse was very melancholy, and wandered up and down in the +wood, seeking some little shelter from the cold wind and rain. +Presently a fox met him: 'What's the matter, my friend?' said he, 'why +do you hang down your head and look so lonely and woe-begone?' 'Ah!' +replied the horse, 'justice and avarice never dwell in one house; my +master has forgotten all that I have done for him so many years, and +because I can no longer work he has turned me adrift, and says unless +I become stronger than a lion he will not take me back again; what +chance can I have of that? he knows I have none, or he would not talk +so.' + +However, the fox bid him be of good cheer, and said, 'I will help you; +lie down there, stretch yourself out quite stiff, and pretend to be +dead.' The horse did as he was told, and the fox went straight to the +lion who lived in a cave close by, and said to him, 'A little way off +lies a dead horse; come with me and you may make an excellent meal of +his carcase.' The lion was greatly pleased, and set off immediately; +and when they came to the horse, the fox said, 'You will not be able +to eat him comfortably here; I'll tell you what--I will tie you fast +to his tail, and then you can draw him to your den, and eat him at +your leisure.' + +This advice pleased the lion, so he laid himself down quietly for the +fox to make him fast to the horse. But the fox managed to tie his legs +together and bound all so hard and fast that with all his strength he +could not set himself free. When the work was done, the fox clapped +the horse on the shoulder, and said, 'Jip! Dobbin! Jip!' Then up he +sprang, and moved off, dragging the lion behind him. The beast began +to roar and bellow, till all the birds of the wood flew away for +fright; but the horse let him sing on, and made his way quietly over +the fields to his master's house. + +'Here he is, master,' said he, 'I have got the better of him': and +when the farmer saw his old servant, his heart relented, and he said. +'Thou shalt stay in thy stable and be well taken care of.' And so the +poor old horse had plenty to eat, and lived--till he died. + + + +THE BLUE LIGHT + +There was once upon a time a soldier who for many years had served the +king faithfully, but when the war came to an end could serve no longer +because of the many wounds which he had received. The king said to +him: 'You may return to your home, I need you no longer, and you will +not receive any more money, for he only receives wages who renders me +service for them.' Then the soldier did not know how to earn a living, +went away greatly troubled, and walked the whole day, until in the +evening he entered a forest. When darkness came on, he saw a light, +which he went up to, and came to a house wherein lived a witch. 'Do +give me one night's lodging, and a little to eat and drink,' said he +to her, 'or I shall starve.' 'Oho!' she answered, 'who gives anything +to a run-away soldier? Yet will I be compassionate, and take you in, +if you will do what I wish.' 'What do you wish?' said the soldier. +'That you should dig all round my garden for me, tomorrow.' The +soldier consented, and next day laboured with all his strength, but +could not finish it by the evening. 'I see well enough,' said the +witch, 'that you can do no more today, but I will keep you yet another +night, in payment for which you must tomorrow chop me a load of wood, +and chop it small.' The soldier spent the whole day in doing it, and +in the evening the witch proposed that he should stay one night more. +'Tomorrow, you shall only do me a very trifling piece of work. Behind +my house, there is an old dry well, into which my light has fallen, it +burns blue, and never goes out, and you shall bring it up again.' Next +day the old woman took him to the well, and let him down in a basket. +He found the blue light, and made her a signal to draw him up again. +She did draw him up, but when he came near the edge, she stretched +down her hand and wanted to take the blue light away from him. 'No,' +said he, perceiving her evil intention, 'I will not give you the light +until I am standing with both feet upon the ground.' The witch fell +into a passion, let him fall again into the well, and went away. + +The poor soldier fell without injury on the moist ground, and the blue +light went on burning, but of what use was that to him? He saw very +well that he could not escape death. He sat for a while very +sorrowfully, then suddenly he felt in his pocket and found his tobacco +pipe, which was still half full. 'This shall be my last pleasure,' +thought he, pulled it out, lit it at the blue light and began to +smoke. When the smoke had circled about the cavern, suddenly a little +black dwarf stood before him, and said: 'Lord, what are your +commands?' 'What my commands are?' replied the soldier, quite +astonished. 'I must do everything you bid me,' said the little man. +'Good,' said the soldier; 'then in the first place help me out of this +well.' The little man took him by the hand, and led him through an +underground passage, but he did not forget to take the blue light with +him. On the way the dwarf showed him the treasures which the witch had +collected and hidden there, and the soldier took as much gold as he +could carry. When he was above, he said to the little man: 'Now go and +bind the old witch, and carry her before the judge.' In a short time +she came by like the wind, riding on a wild tom-cat and screaming +frightfully. Nor was it long before the little man reappeared. 'It is +all done,' said he, 'and the witch is already hanging on the gallows. +What further commands has my lord?' inquired the dwarf. 'At this +moment, none,' answered the soldier; 'you can return home, only be at +hand immediately, if I summon you.' 'Nothing more is needed than that +you should light your pipe at the blue light, and I will appear before +you at once.' Thereupon he vanished from his sight. + +The soldier returned to the town from which he come. He went to the +best inn, ordered himself handsome clothes, and then bade the landlord +furnish him a room as handsome as possible. When it was ready and the +soldier had taken possession of it, he summoned the little black +manikin and said: 'I have served the king faithfully, but he has +dismissed me, and left me to hunger, and now I want to take my +revenge.' 'What am I to do?' asked the little man. 'Late at night, +when the king's daughter is in bed, bring her here in her sleep, she +shall do servant's work for me.' The manikin said: 'That is an easy +thing for me to do, but a very dangerous thing for you, for if it is +discovered, you will fare ill.' When twelve o'clock had struck, the +door sprang open, and the manikin carried in the princess. 'Aha! are +you there?' cried the soldier, 'get to your work at once! Fetch the +broom and sweep the chamber.' When she had done this, he ordered her +to come to his chair, and then he stretched out his feet and said: +'Pull off my boots,' and then he threw them in her face, and made her +pick them up again, and clean and brighten them. She, however, did +everything he bade her, without opposition, silently and with half- +shut eyes. When the first cock crowed, the manikin carried her back to +the royal palace, and laid her in her bed. + +Next morning when the princess arose she went to her father, and told +him that she had had a very strange dream. 'I was carried through the +streets with the rapidity of lightning,' said she, 'and taken into a +soldier's room, and I had to wait upon him like a servant, sweep his +room, clean his boots, and do all kinds of menial work. It was only a +dream, and yet I am just as tired as if I really had done everything.' +'The dream may have been true,' said the king. 'I will give you a +piece of advice. Fill your pocket full of peas, and make a small hole +in the pocket, and then if you are carried away again, they will fall +out and leave a track in the streets.' But unseen by the king, the +manikin was standing beside him when he said that, and heard all. At +night when the sleeping princess was again carried through the +streets, some peas certainly did fall out of her pocket, but they made +no track, for the crafty manikin had just before scattered peas in +every street there was. And again the princess was compelled to do +servant's work until cock-crow. + +Next morning the king sent his people out to seek the track, but it +was all in vain, for in every street poor children were sitting, +picking up peas, and saying: 'It must have rained peas, last night.' +'We must think of something else,' said the king; 'keep your shoes on +when you go to bed, and before you come back from the place where you +are taken, hide one of them there, I will soon contrive to find it.' +The black manikin heard this plot, and at night when the soldier again +ordered him to bring the princess, revealed it to him, and told him +that he knew of no expedient to counteract this stratagem, and that if +the shoe were found in the soldier's house it would go badly with him. +'Do what I bid you,' replied the soldier, and again this third night +the princess was obliged to work like a servant, but before she went +away, she hid her shoe under the bed. + +Next morning the king had the entire town searched for his daughter's +shoe. It was found at the soldier's, and the soldier himself, who at +the entreaty of the dwarf had gone outside the gate, was soon brought +back, and thrown into prison. In his flight he had forgotten the most +valuable things he had, the blue light and the gold, and had only one +ducat in his pocket. And now loaded with chains, he was standing at +the window of his dungeon, when he chanced to see one of his comrades +passing by. The soldier tapped at the pane of glass, and when this man +came up, said to him: 'Be so kind as to fetch me the small bundle I +have left lying in the inn, and I will give you a ducat for doing it.' +His comrade ran thither and brought him what he wanted. As soon as the +soldier was alone again, he lighted his pipe and summoned the black +manikin. 'Have no fear,' said the latter to his master. 'Go +wheresoever they take you, and let them do what they will, only take +the blue light with you.' Next day the soldier was tried, and though +he had done nothing wicked, the judge condemned him to death. When he +was led forth to die, he begged a last favour of the king. 'What is +it?' asked the king. 'That I may smoke one more pipe on my way.' 'You +may smoke three,' answered the king, 'but do not imagine that I will +spare your life.' Then the soldier pulled out his pipe and lighted it +at the blue light, and as soon as a few wreaths of smoke had ascended, +the manikin was there with a small cudgel in his hand, and said: 'What +does my lord command?' 'Strike down to earth that false judge there, +and his constable, and spare not the king who has treated me so ill.' +Then the manikin fell on them like lightning, darting this way and +that way, and whosoever was so much as touched by his cudgel fell to +earth, and did not venture to stir again. The king was terrified; he +threw himself on the soldier's mercy, and merely to be allowed to live +at all, gave him his kingdom for his own, and his daughter to wife. + + + +THE RAVEN + +There was once a queen who had a little daughter, still too young to +run alone. One day the child was very troublesome, and the mother +could not quiet it, do what she would. She grew impatient, and seeing +the ravens flying round the castle, she opened the window, and said: +'I wish you were a raven and would fly away, then I should have a +little peace.' Scarcely were the words out of her mouth, when the +child in her arms was turned into a raven, and flew away from her +through the open window. The bird took its flight to a dark wood and +remained there for a long time, and meanwhile the parents could hear +nothing of their child. + +Long after this, a man was making his way through the wood when he +heard a raven calling, and he followed the sound of the voice. As he +drew near, the raven said, 'I am by birth a king's daughter, but am +now under the spell of some enchantment; you can, however, set me +free.' 'What am I to do?' he asked. She replied, 'Go farther into the +wood until you come to a house, wherein lives an old woman; she will +offer you food and drink, but you must not take of either; if you do, +you will fall into a deep sleep, and will not be able to help me. In +the garden behind the house is a large tan-heap, and on that you must +stand and watch for me. I shall drive there in my carriage at two +o'clock in the afternoon for three successive days; the first day it +will be drawn by four white, the second by four chestnut, and the last +by four black horses; but if you fail to keep awake and I find you +sleeping, I shall not be set free.' + +The man promised to do all that she wished, but the raven said, 'Alas! +I know even now that you will take something from the woman and be +unable to save me.' The man assured her again that he would on no +account touch a thing to eat or drink. + +When he came to the house and went inside, the old woman met him, and +said, 'Poor man! how tired you are! Come in and rest and let me give +you something to eat and drink.' + +'No,' answered the man, 'I will neither eat not drink.' + +But she would not leave him alone, and urged him saying, 'If you will +not eat anything, at least you might take a draught of wine; one drink +counts for nothing,' and at last he allowed himself to be persuaded, +and drank. + +As it drew towards the appointed hour, he went outside into the garden +and mounted the tan-heap to await the raven. Suddenly a feeling of +fatigue came over him, and unable to resist it, he lay down for a +little while, fully determined, however, to keep awake; but in another +minute his eyes closed of their own accord, and he fell into such a +deep sleep, that all the noises in the world would not have awakened +him. At two o'clock the raven came driving along, drawn by her four +white horses; but even before she reached the spot, she said to +herself, sighing, 'I know he has fallen asleep.' When she entered the +garden, there she found him as she had feared, lying on the tan-heap, +fast asleep. She got out of her carriage and went to him; she called +him and shook him, but it was all in vain, he still continued +sleeping. + +The next day at noon, the old woman came to him again with food and +drink which he at first refused. At last, overcome by her persistent +entreaties that he would take something, he lifted the glass and drank +again. + +Towards two o'clock he went into the garden and on to the tan-heap to +watch for the raven. He had not been there long before he began to +feel so tired that his limbs seemed hardly able to support him, and he +could not stand upright any longer; so again he lay down and fell fast +asleep. As the raven drove along her four chestnut horses, she said +sorrowfully to herself, 'I know he has fallen asleep.' She went as +before to look for him, but he slept, and it was impossible to awaken +him. + +The following day the old woman said to him, 'What is this? You are +not eating or drinking anything, do you want to kill yourself?' + +He answered, 'I may not and will not either eat or drink.' + +But she put down the dish of food and the glass of wine in front of +him, and when he smelt the wine, he was unable to resist the +temptation, and took a deep draught. + +When the hour came round again he went as usual on to the tan-heap in +the garden to await the king's daughter, but he felt even more +overcome with weariness than on the two previous days, and throwing +himself down, he slept like a log. At two o'clock the raven could be +seen approaching, and this time her coachman and everything about her, +as well as her horses, were black. + +She was sadder than ever as she drove along, and said mournfully, 'I +know he has fallen asleep, and will not be able to set me free.' She +found him sleeping heavily, and all her efforts to awaken him were of +no avail. Then she placed beside him a loaf, and some meat, and a +flask of wine, of such a kind, that however much he took of them, they +would never grow less. After that she drew a gold ring, on which her +name was engraved, off her finger, and put it upon one of his. +Finally, she laid a letter near him, in which, after giving him +particulars of the food and drink she had left for him, she finished +with the following words: 'I see that as long as you remain here you +will never be able to set me free; if, however, you still wish to do +so, come to the golden castle of Stromberg; this is well within your +power to accomplish.' She then returned to her carriage and drove to +the golden castle of Stromberg. + +When the man awoke and found that he had been sleeping, he was grieved +at heart, and said, 'She has no doubt been here and driven away again, +and it is now too late for me to save her.' Then his eyes fell on the +things which were lying beside him; he read the letter, and knew from +it all that had happened. He rose up without delay, eager to start on +his way and to reach the castle of Stromberg, but he had no idea in +which direction he ought to go. He travelled about a long time in +search of it and came at last to a dark forest, through which he went +on walking for fourteen days and still could not find a way out. Once +more the night came on, and worn out he lay down under a bush and fell +asleep. Again the next day he pursued his way through the forest, and +that evening, thinking to rest again, he lay down as before, but he +heard such a howling and wailing that he found it impossible to sleep. +He waited till it was darker and people had begun to light up their +houses, and then seeing a little glimmer ahead of him, he went towards +it. + +He found that the light came from a house which looked smaller than it +really was, from the contrast of its height with that of an immense +giant who stood in front of it. He thought to himself, 'If the giant +sees me going in, my life will not be worth much.' However, after a +while he summoned up courage and went forward. When the giant saw him, +he called out, 'It is lucky for that you have come, for I have not had +anything to eat for a long time. I can have you now for my supper.' 'I +would rather you let that alone,' said the man, 'for I do not +willingly give myself up to be eaten; if you are wanting food I have +enough to satisfy your hunger.' 'If that is so,' replied the giant, 'I +will leave you in peace; I only thought of eating you because I had +nothing else.' + +So they went indoors together and sat down, and the man brought out +the bread, meat, and wine, which although he had eaten and drunk of +them, were still unconsumed. The giant was pleased with the good +cheer, and ate and drank to his heart's content. When he had finished +his supper the man asked him if he could direct him to the castle of +Stromberg. The giant said, 'I will look on my map; on it are marked +all the towns, villages, and houses.' So he fetched his map, and +looked for the castle, but could not find it. 'Never mind,' he said, +'I have larger maps upstairs in the cupboard, we will look on those,' +but they searched in vain, for the castle was not marked even on +these. The man now thought he should like to continue his journey, but +the giant begged him to remain for a day or two longer until the +return of his brother, who was away in search of provisions. When the +brother came home, they asked him about the castle of Stromberg, and +he told them he would look on his own maps as soon as he had eaten and +appeased his hunger. Accordingly, when he had finished his supper, +they all went up together to his room and looked through his maps, but +the castle was not to be found. Then he fetched other older maps, and +they went on looking for the castle until at last they found it, but +it was many thousand miles away. 'How shall I be able to get there?' +asked the man. 'I have two hours to spare,' said the giant, 'and I +will carry you into the neighbourhood of the castle; I must then +return to look after the child who is in our care.' + +The giant, thereupon, carried the man to within about a hundred +leagues of the castle, where he left him, saying, 'You will be able to +walk the remainder of the way yourself.' The man journeyed on day and +night till he reached the golden castle of Stromberg. He found it +situated, however, on a glass mountain, and looking up from the foot +he saw the enchanted maiden drive round her castle and then go inside. +He was overjoyed to see her, and longed to get to the top of the +mountain, but the sides were so slippery that every time he attempted +to climb he fell back again. When he saw that it was impossible to +reach her, he was greatly grieved, and said to himself, 'I will remain +here and wait for her,' so he built himself a little hut, and there he +sat and watched for a whole year, and every day he saw the king's +daughter driving round her castle, but still was unable to get nearer +to her. + +Looking out from his hut one day he saw three robbers fighting and he +called out to them, 'God be with you.' They stopped when they heard +the call, but looking round and seeing nobody, they went on again with +their fighting, which now became more furious. 'God be with you,' he +cried again, and again they paused and looked about, but seeing no one +went back to their fighting. A third time he called out, 'God be with +you,' and then thinking he should like to know the cause of dispute +between the three men, he went out and asked them why they were +fighting so angrily with one another. One of them said that he had +found a stick, and that he had but to strike it against any door +through which he wished to pass, and it immediately flew open. Another +told him that he had found a cloak which rendered its wearer +invisible; and the third had caught a horse which would carry its +rider over any obstacle, and even up the glass mountain. They had been +unable to decide whether they would keep together and have the things +in common, or whether they would separate. On hearing this, the man +said, 'I will give you something in exchange for those three things; +not money, for that I have not got, but something that is of far more +value. I must first, however, prove whether all you have told me about +your three things is true.' The robbers, therefore, made him get on +the horse, and handed him the stick and the cloak, and when he had put +this round him he was no longer visible. Then he fell upon them with +the stick and beat them one after another, crying, 'There, you idle +vagabonds, you have got what you deserve; are you satisfied now!' + +After this he rode up the glass mountain. When he reached the gate of +the castle, he found it closed, but he gave it a blow with his stick, +and it flew wide open at once and he passed through. He mounted the +steps and entered the room where the maiden was sitting, with a golden +goblet full of wine in front of her. She could not see him for he +still wore his cloak. He took the ring which she had given him off his +finger, and threw it into the goblet, so that it rang as it touched +the bottom. 'That is my own ring,' she exclaimed, 'and if that is so +the man must also be here who is coming to set me free.' + +She sought for him about the castle, but could find him nowhere. +Meanwhile he had gone outside again and mounted his horse and thrown +off the cloak. When therefore she came to the castle gate she saw him, +and cried aloud for joy. Then he dismounted and took her in his arms; +and she kissed him, and said, 'Now you have indeed set me free, and +tomorrow we will celebrate our marriage.' + + + +THE GOLDEN GOOSE + +There was a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called +Dummling,[*] and was despised, mocked, and sneered at on every +occasion. + +It happened that the eldest wanted to go into the forest to hew wood, +and before he went his mother gave him a beautiful sweet cake and a +bottle of wine in order that he might not suffer from hunger or +thirst. + +When he entered the forest he met a little grey-haired old man who +bade him good day, and said: 'Do give me a piece of cake out of your +pocket, and let me have a draught of your wine; I am so hungry and +thirsty.' But the clever son answered: 'If I give you my cake and +wine, I shall have none for myself; be off with you,' and he left the +little man standing and went on. + +But when he began to hew down a tree, it was not long before he made a +false stroke, and the axe cut him in the arm, so that he had to go +home and have it bound up. And this was the little grey man's doing. + +After this the second son went into the forest, and his mother gave +him, like the eldest, a cake and a bottle of wine. The little old grey +man met him likewise, and asked him for a piece of cake and a drink of +wine. But the second son, too, said sensibly enough: 'What I give you +will be taken away from myself; be off!' and he left the little man +standing and went on. His punishment, however, was not delayed; when +he had made a few blows at the tree he struck himself in the leg, so +that he had to be carried home. + +Then Dummling said: 'Father, do let me go and cut wood.' The father +answered: 'Your brothers have hurt themselves with it, leave it alone, +you do not understand anything about it.' But Dummling begged so long +that at last he said: 'Just go then, you will get wiser by hurting +yourself.' His mother gave him a cake made with water and baked in the +cinders, and with it a bottle of sour beer. + +When he came to the forest the little old grey man met him likewise, +and greeting him, said: 'Give me a piece of your cake and a drink out +of your bottle; I am so hungry and thirsty.' Dummling answered: 'I +have only cinder-cake and sour beer; if that pleases you, we will sit +down and eat.' So they sat down, and when Dummling pulled out his +cinder-cake, it was a fine sweet cake, and the sour beer had become +good wine. So they ate and drank, and after that the little man said: +'Since you have a good heart, and are willing to divide what you have, +I will give you good luck. There stands an old tree, cut it down, and +you will find something at the roots.' Then the little man took leave +of him. + +Dummling went and cut down the tree, and when it fell there was a +goose sitting in the roots with feathers of pure gold. He lifted her +up, and taking her with him, went to an inn where he thought he would +stay the night. Now the host had three daughters, who saw the goose +and were curious to know what such a wonderful bird might be, and +would have liked to have one of its golden feathers. + +The eldest thought: 'I shall soon find an opportunity of pulling out a +feather,' and as soon as Dummling had gone out she seized the goose by +the wing, but her finger and hand remained sticking fast to it. + +The second came soon afterwards, thinking only of how she might get a +feather for herself, but she had scarcely touched her sister than she +was held fast. + +At last the third also came with the like intent, and the others +screamed out: 'Keep away; for goodness' sake keep away!' But she did +not understand why she was to keep away. 'The others are there,' she +thought, 'I may as well be there too,' and ran to them; but as soon as +she had touched her sister, she remained sticking fast to her. So they +had to spend the night with the goose. + +The next morning Dummling took the goose under his arm and set out, +without troubling himself about the three girls who were hanging on to +it. They were obliged to run after him continually, now left, now +right, wherever his legs took him. + +In the middle of the fields the parson met them, and when he saw the +procession he said: 'For shame, you good-for-nothing girls, why are +you running across the fields after this young man? Is that seemly?' +At the same time he seized the youngest by the hand in order to pull +her away, but as soon as he touched her he likewise stuck fast, and +was himself obliged to run behind. + +Before long the sexton came by and saw his master, the parson, running +behind three girls. He was astonished at this and called out: 'Hi! +your reverence, whither away so quickly? Do not forget that we have a +christening today!' and running after him he took him by the sleeve, +but was also held fast to it. + +Whilst the five were trotting thus one behind the other, two labourers +came with their hoes from the fields; the parson called out to them +and begged that they would set him and the sexton free. But they had +scarcely touched the sexton when they were held fast, and now there +were seven of them running behind Dummling and the goose. + +Soon afterwards he came to a city, where a king ruled who had a +daughter who was so serious that no one could make her laugh. So he +had put forth a decree that whosoever should be able to make her laugh +should marry her. When Dummling heard this, he went with his goose and +all her train before the king's daughter, and as soon as she saw the +seven people running on and on, one behind the other, she began to +laugh quite loudly, and as if she would never stop. Thereupon Dummling +asked to have her for his wife; but the king did not like the son-in- +law, and made all manner of excuses and said he must first produce a +man who could drink a cellarful of wine. Dummling thought of the +little grey man, who could certainly help him; so he went into the +forest, and in the same place where he had felled the tree, he saw a +man sitting, who had a very sorrowful face. Dummling asked him what he +was taking to heart so sorely, and he answered: 'I have such a great +thirst and cannot quench it; cold water I cannot stand, a barrel of +wine I have just emptied, but that to me is like a drop on a hot +stone!' + +'There, I can help you,' said Dummling, 'just come with me and you +shall be satisfied.' + +He led him into the king's cellar, and the man bent over the huge +barrels, and drank and drank till his loins hurt, and before the day +was out he had emptied all the barrels. Then Dummling asked once more +for his bride, but the king was vexed that such an ugly fellow, whom +everyone called Dummling, should take away his daughter, and he made a +new condition; he must first find a man who could eat a whole mountain +of bread. Dummling did not think long, but went straight into the +forest, where in the same place there sat a man who was tying up his +body with a strap, and making an awful face, and saying: 'I have eaten +a whole ovenful of rolls, but what good is that when one has such a +hunger as I? My stomach remains empty, and I must tie myself up if I +am not to die of hunger.' + +At this Dummling was glad, and said: 'Get up and come with me; you +shall eat yourself full.' He led him to the king's palace where all +the flour in the whole Kingdom was collected, and from it he caused a +huge mountain of bread to be baked. The man from the forest stood +before it, began to eat, and by the end of one day the whole mountain +had vanished. Then Dummling for the third time asked for his bride; +but the king again sought a way out, and ordered a ship which could +sail on land and on water. 'As soon as you come sailing back in it,' +said he, 'you shall have my daughter for wife.' + +Dummling went straight into the forest, and there sat the little grey +man to whom he had given his cake. When he heard what Dummling wanted, +he said: 'Since you have given me to eat and to drink, I will give you +the ship; and I do all this because you once were kind to me.' Then he +gave him the ship which could sail on land and water, and when the +king saw that, he could no longer prevent him from having his +daughter. The wedding was celebrated, and after the king's death, +Dummling inherited his kingdom and lived for a long time contentedly +with his wife. + +[*] Simpleton + + + +THE WATER OF LIFE + +Long before you or I were born, there reigned, in a country a great +way off, a king who had three sons. This king once fell very ill--so +ill that nobody thought he could live. His sons were very much grieved +at their father's sickness; and as they were walking together very +mournfully in the garden of the palace, a little old man met them and +asked what was the matter. They told him that their father was very +ill, and that they were afraid nothing could save him. 'I know what +would,' said the little old man; 'it is the Water of Life. If he could +have a draught of it he would be well again; but it is very hard to +get.' Then the eldest son said, 'I will soon find it': and he went to +the sick king, and begged that he might go in search of the Water of +Life, as it was the only thing that could save him. 'No,' said the +king. 'I had rather die than place you in such great danger as you +must meet with in your journey.' But he begged so hard that the king +let him go; and the prince thought to himself, 'If I bring my father +this water, he will make me sole heir to his kingdom.' + +Then he set out: and when he had gone on his way some time he came to +a deep valley, overhung with rocks and woods; and as he looked around, +he saw standing above him on one of the rocks a little ugly dwarf, +with a sugarloaf cap and a scarlet cloak; and the dwarf called to him +and said, 'Prince, whither so fast?' 'What is that to thee, you ugly +imp?' said the prince haughtily, and rode on. + +But the dwarf was enraged at his behaviour, and laid a fairy spell of +ill-luck upon him; so that as he rode on the mountain pass became +narrower and narrower, and at last the way was so straitened that he +could not go to step forward: and when he thought to have turned his +horse round and go back the way he came, he heard a loud laugh ringing +round him, and found that the path was closed behind him, so that he +was shut in all round. He next tried to get off his horse and make his +way on foot, but again the laugh rang in his ears, and he found +himself unable to move a step, and thus he was forced to abide +spellbound. + +Meantime the old king was lingering on in daily hope of his son's +return, till at last the second son said, 'Father, I will go in search +of the Water of Life.' For he thought to himself, 'My brother is +surely dead, and the kingdom will fall to me if I find the water.' The +king was at first very unwilling to let him go, but at last yielded to +his wish. So he set out and followed the same road which his brother +had done, and met with the same elf, who stopped him at the same spot +in the mountains, saying, as before, 'Prince, prince, whither so +fast?' 'Mind your own affairs, busybody!' said the prince scornfully, +and rode on. + +But the dwarf put the same spell upon him as he put on his elder +brother, and he, too, was at last obliged to take up his abode in the +heart of the mountains. Thus it is with proud silly people, who think +themselves above everyone else, and are too proud to ask or take +advice. + +When the second prince had thus been gone a long time, the youngest +son said he would go and search for the Water of Life, and trusted he +should soon be able to make his father well again. So he set out, and +the dwarf met him too at the same spot in the valley, among the +mountains, and said, 'Prince, whither so fast?' And the prince said, +'I am going in search of the Water of Life, because my father is ill, +and like to die: can you help me? Pray be kind, and aid me if you +can!' 'Do you know where it is to be found?' asked the dwarf. 'No,' +said the prince, 'I do not. Pray tell me if you know.' 'Then as you +have spoken to me kindly, and are wise enough to seek for advice, I +will tell you how and where to go. The water you seek springs from a +well in an enchanted castle; and, that you may be able to reach it in +safety, I will give you an iron wand and two little loaves of bread; +strike the iron door of the castle three times with the wand, and it +will open: two hungry lions will be lying down inside gaping for their +prey, but if you throw them the bread they will let you pass; then +hasten on to the well, and take some of the Water of Life before the +clock strikes twelve; for if you tarry longer the door will shut upon +you for ever.' + +Then the prince thanked his little friend with the scarlet cloak for +his friendly aid, and took the wand and the bread, and went travelling +on and on, over sea and over land, till he came to his journey's end, +and found everything to be as the dwarf had told him. The door flew +open at the third stroke of the wand, and when the lions were quieted +he went on through the castle and came at length to a beautiful hall. +Around it he saw several knights sitting in a trance; then he pulled +off their rings and put them on his own fingers. In another room he +saw on a table a sword and a loaf of bread, which he also took. +Further on he came to a room where a beautiful young lady sat upon a +couch; and she welcomed him joyfully, and said, if he would set her +free from the spell that bound her, the kingdom should be his, if he +would come back in a year and marry her. Then she told him that the +well that held the Water of Life was in the palace gardens; and bade +him make haste, and draw what he wanted before the clock struck +twelve. + +He walked on; and as he walked through beautiful gardens he came to a +delightful shady spot in which stood a couch; and he thought to +himself, as he felt tired, that he would rest himself for a while, and +gaze on the lovely scenes around him. So he laid himself down, and +sleep fell upon him unawares, so that he did not wake up till the +clock was striking a quarter to twelve. Then he sprang from the couch +dreadfully frightened, ran to the well, filled a cup that was standing +by him full of water, and hastened to get away in time. Just as he was +going out of the iron door it struck twelve, and the door fell so +quickly upon him that it snapped off a piece of his heel. + +When he found himself safe, he was overjoyed to think that he had got +the Water of Life; and as he was going on his way homewards, he passed +by the little dwarf, who, when he saw the sword and the loaf, said, +'You have made a noble prize; with the sword you can at a blow slay +whole armies, and the bread will never fail you.' Then the prince +thought to himself, 'I cannot go home to my father without my +brothers'; so he said, 'My dear friend, cannot you tell me where my +two brothers are, who set out in search of the Water of Life before +me, and never came back?' 'I have shut them up by a charm between two +mountains,' said the dwarf, 'because they were proud and ill-behaved, +and scorned to ask advice.' The prince begged so hard for his +brothers, that the dwarf at last set them free, though unwillingly, +saying, 'Beware of them, for they have bad hearts.' Their brother, +however, was greatly rejoiced to see them, and told them all that had +happened to him; how he had found the Water of Life, and had taken a +cup full of it; and how he had set a beautiful princess free from a +spell that bound her; and how she had engaged to wait a whole year, +and then to marry him, and to give him the kingdom. + +Then they all three rode on together, and on their way home came to a +country that was laid waste by war and a dreadful famine, so that it +was feared all must die for want. But the prince gave the king of the +land the bread, and all his kingdom ate of it. And he lent the king +the wonderful sword, and he slew the enemy's army with it; and thus +the kingdom was once more in peace and plenty. In the same manner he +befriended two other countries through which they passed on their way. + +When they came to the sea, they got into a ship and during their +voyage the two eldest said to themselves, 'Our brother has got the +water which we could not find, therefore our father will forsake us +and give him the kingdom, which is our right'; so they were full of +envy and revenge, and agreed together how they could ruin him. Then +they waited till he was fast asleep, and poured the Water of Life out +of the cup, and took it for themselves, giving him bitter sea-water +instead. + +When they came to their journey's end, the youngest son brought his +cup to the sick king, that he might drink and be healed. Scarcely, +however, had he tasted the bitter sea-water when he became worse even +than he was before; and then both the elder sons came in, and blamed +the youngest for what they had done; and said that he wanted to poison +their father, but that they had found the Water of Life, and had +brought it with them. He no sooner began to drink of what they brought +him, than he felt his sickness leave him, and was as strong and well +as in his younger days. Then they went to their brother, and laughed +at him, and said, 'Well, brother, you found the Water of Life, did +you? You have had the trouble and we shall have the reward. Pray, with +all your cleverness, why did not you manage to keep your eyes open? +Next year one of us will take away your beautiful princess, if you do +not take care. You had better say nothing about this to our father, +for he does not believe a word you say; and if you tell tales, you +shall lose your life into the bargain: but be quiet, and we will let +you off.' + +The old king was still very angry with his youngest son, and thought +that he really meant to have taken away his life; so he called his +court together, and asked what should be done, and all agreed that he +ought to be put to death. The prince knew nothing of what was going +on, till one day, when the king's chief huntsmen went a-hunting with +him, and they were alone in the wood together, the huntsman looked so +sorrowful that the prince said, 'My friend, what is the matter with +you?' 'I cannot and dare not tell you,' said he. But the prince begged +very hard, and said, 'Only tell me what it is, and do not think I +shall be angry, for I will forgive you.' 'Alas!' said the huntsman; +'the king has ordered me to shoot you.' The prince started at this, +and said, 'Let me live, and I will change dresses with you; you shall +take my royal coat to show to my father, and do you give me your +shabby one.' 'With all my heart,' said the huntsman; 'I am sure I +shall be glad to save you, for I could not have shot you.' Then he +took the prince's coat, and gave him the shabby one, and went away +through the wood. + +Some time after, three grand embassies came to the old king's court, +with rich gifts of gold and precious stones for his youngest son; now +all these were sent from the three kings to whom he had lent his sword +and loaf of bread, in order to rid them of their enemy and feed their +people. This touched the old king's heart, and he thought his son +might still be guiltless, and said to his court, 'O that my son were +still alive! how it grieves me that I had him killed!' 'He is still +alive,' said the huntsman; 'and I am glad that I had pity on him, but +let him go in peace, and brought home his royal coat.' At this the +king was overwhelmed with joy, and made it known thoughout all his +kingdom, that if his son would come back to his court he would forgive +him. + +Meanwhile the princess was eagerly waiting till her deliverer should +come back; and had a road made leading up to her palace all of shining +gold; and told her courtiers that whoever came on horseback, and rode +straight up to the gate upon it, was her true lover; and that they +must let him in: but whoever rode on one side of it, they must be sure +was not the right one; and that they must send him away at once. + +The time soon came, when the eldest brother thought that he would make +haste to go to the princess, and say that he was the one who had set +her free, and that he should have her for his wife, and the kingdom +with her. As he came before the palace and saw the golden road, he +stopped to look at it, and he thought to himself, 'It is a pity to +ride upon this beautiful road'; so he turned aside and rode on the +right-hand side of it. But when he came to the gate, the guards, who +had seen the road he took, said to him, he could not be what he said +he was, and must go about his business. + +The second prince set out soon afterwards on the same errand; and when +he came to the golden road, and his horse had set one foot upon it, he +stopped to look at it, and thought it very beautiful, and said to +himself, 'What a pity it is that anything should tread here!' Then he +too turned aside and rode on the left side of it. But when he came to +the gate the guards said he was not the true prince, and that he too +must go away about his business; and away he went. + +Now when the full year was come round, the third brother left the +forest in which he had lain hid for fear of his father's anger, and +set out in search of his betrothed bride. So he journeyed on, thinking +of her all the way, and rode so quickly that he did not even see what +the road was made of, but went with his horse straight over it; and as +he came to the gate it flew open, and the princess welcomed him with +joy, and said he was her deliverer, and should now be her husband and +lord of the kingdom. When the first joy at their meeting was over, the +princess told him she had heard of his father having forgiven him, and +of his wish to have him home again: so, before his wedding with the +princess, he went to visit his father, taking her with him. Then he +told him everything; how his brothers had cheated and robbed him, and +yet that he had borne all those wrongs for the love of his father. And +the old king was very angry, and wanted to punish his wicked sons; but +they made their escape, and got into a ship and sailed away over the +wide sea, and where they went to nobody knew and nobody cared. + +And now the old king gathered together his court, and asked all his +kingdom to come and celebrate the wedding of his son and the princess. +And young and old, noble and squire, gentle and simple, came at once +on the summons; and among the rest came the friendly dwarf, with the +sugarloaf hat, and a new scarlet cloak. + + And the wedding was held, and the merry bells run. + And all the good people they danced and they sung, + And feasted and frolick'd I can't tell how long. + + + +THE TWELVE HUNTSMEN + +There was once a king's son who had a bride whom he loved very much. +And when he was sitting beside her and very happy, news came that his +father lay sick unto death, and desired to see him once again before +his end. Then he said to his beloved: 'I must now go and leave you, I +give you a ring as a remembrance of me. When I am king, I will return +and fetch you.' So he rode away, and when he reached his father, the +latter was dangerously ill, and near his death. He said to him: 'Dear +son, I wished to see you once again before my end, promise me to marry +as I wish,' and he named a certain king's daughter who was to be his +wife. The son was in such trouble that he did not think what he was +doing, and said: 'Yes, dear father, your will shall be done,' and +thereupon the king shut his eyes, and died. + +When therefore the son had been proclaimed king, and the time of +mourning was over, he was forced to keep the promise which he had +given his father, and caused the king's daughter to be asked in +marriage, and she was promised to him. His first betrothed heard of +this, and fretted so much about his faithfulness that she nearly died. +Then her father said to her: 'Dearest child, why are you so sad? You +shall have whatsoever you will.' She thought for a moment and said: +'Dear father, I wish for eleven girls exactly like myself in face, +figure, and size.' The father said: 'If it be possible, your desire +shall be fulfilled,' and he caused a search to be made in his whole +kingdom, until eleven young maidens were found who exactly resembled +his daughter in face, figure, and size. + +When they came to the king's daughter, she had twelve suits of +huntsmen's clothes made, all alike, and the eleven maidens had to put +on the huntsmen's clothes, and she herself put on the twelfth suit. +Thereupon she took her leave of her father, and rode away with them, +and rode to the court of her former betrothed, whom she loved so +dearly. Then she asked if he required any huntsmen, and if he would +take all of them into his service. The king looked at her and did not +know her, but as they were such handsome fellows, he said: 'Yes,' and +that he would willingly take them, and now they were the king's twelve +huntsmen. + +The king, however, had a lion which was a wondrous animal, for he knew +all concealed and secret things. It came to pass that one evening he +said to the king: 'You think you have twelve huntsmen?' 'Yes,' said +the king, 'they are twelve huntsmen.' The lion continued: 'You are +mistaken, they are twelve girls.' The king said: 'That cannot be true! +How will you prove that to me?' 'Oh, just let some peas be strewn in +the ante-chamber,' answered the lion, 'and then you will soon see. +Men have a firm step, and when they walk over peas none of them stir, +but girls trip and skip, and drag their feet, and the peas roll +about.' The king was well pleased with the counsel, and caused the +peas to be strewn. + +There was, however, a servant of the king's who favoured the huntsmen, +and when he heard that they were going to be put to this test he went +to them and repeated everything, and said: 'The lion wants to make the +king believe that you are girls.' Then the king's daughter thanked +him, and said to her maidens: 'Show some strength, and step firmly on +the peas.' So next morning when the king had the twelve huntsmen +called before him, and they came into the ante-chamber where the peas +were lying, they stepped so firmly on them, and had such a strong, +sure walk, that not one of the peas either rolled or stirred. Then +they went away again, and the king said to the lion: 'You have lied to +me, they walk just like men.' The lion said: 'They have been informed +that they were going to be put to the test, and have assumed some +strength. Just let twelve spinning-wheels be brought into the ante- +chamber, and they will go to them and be pleased with them, and that +is what no man would do.' The king liked the advice, and had the +spinning-wheels placed in the ante-chamber. + +But the servant, who was well disposed to the huntsmen, went to them, +and disclosed the project. So when they were alone the king's daughter +said to her eleven girls: 'Show some constraint, and do not look round +at the spinning-wheels.' And next morning when the king had his twelve +huntsmen summoned, they went through the ante-chamber, and never once +looked at the spinning-wheels. Then the king again said to the lion: +'You have deceived me, they are men, for they have not looked at the +spinning-wheels.' The lion replied: 'They have restrained themselves.' +The king, however, would no longer believe the lion. + +The twelve huntsmen always followed the king to the chase, and his +liking for them continually increased. Now it came to pass that once +when they were out hunting, news came that the king's bride was +approaching. When the true bride heard that, it hurt her so much that +her heart was almost broken, and she fell fainting to the ground. The +king thought something had happened to his dear huntsman, ran up to +him, wanted to help him, and drew his glove off. Then he saw the ring +which he had given to his first bride, and when he looked in her face +he recognized her. Then his heart was so touched that he kissed her, +and when she opened her eyes he said: 'You are mine, and I am yours, +and no one in the world can alter that.' He sent a messenger to the +other bride, and entreated her to return to her own kingdom, for he +had a wife already, and someone who had just found an old key did not +require a new one. Thereupon the wedding was celebrated, and the lion +was again taken into favour, because, after all, he had told the +truth. + + + +THE KING OF THE GOLDEN MOUNTAIN + +There was once a merchant who had only one child, a son, that was very +young, and barely able to run alone. He had two richly laden ships +then making a voyage upon the seas, in which he had embarked all his +wealth, in the hope of making great gains, when the news came that +both were lost. Thus from being a rich man he became all at once so +very poor that nothing was left to him but one small plot of land; and +there he often went in an evening to take his walk, and ease his mind +of a little of his trouble. + +One day, as he was roaming along in a brown study, thinking with no +great comfort on what he had been and what he now was, and was like to +be, all on a sudden there stood before him a little, rough-looking, +black dwarf. 'Prithee, friend, why so sorrowful?' said he to the +merchant; 'what is it you take so deeply to heart?' 'If you would do +me any good I would willingly tell you,' said the merchant. 'Who knows +but I may?' said the little man: 'tell me what ails you, and perhaps +you will find I may be of some use.' Then the merchant told him how +all his wealth was gone to the bottom of the sea, and how he had +nothing left but that little plot of land. 'Oh, trouble not yourself +about that,' said the dwarf; 'only undertake to bring me here, twelve +years hence, whatever meets you first on your going home, and I will +give you as much as you please.' The merchant thought this was no +great thing to ask; that it would most likely be his dog or his cat, +or something of that sort, but forgot his little boy Heinel; so he +agreed to the bargain, and signed and sealed the bond to do what was +asked of him. + +But as he drew near home, his little boy was so glad to see him that +he crept behind him, and laid fast hold of his legs, and looked up in +his face and laughed. Then the father started, trembling with fear and +horror, and saw what it was that he had bound himself to do; but as no +gold was come, he made himself easy by thinking that it was only a +joke that the dwarf was playing him, and that, at any rate, when the +money came, he should see the bearer, and would not take it in. + +About a month afterwards he went upstairs into a lumber-room to look +for some old iron, that he might sell it and raise a little money; and +there, instead of his iron, he saw a large pile of gold lying on the +floor. At the sight of this he was overjoyed, and forgetting all about +his son, went into trade again, and became a richer merchant than +before. + +Meantime little Heinel grew up, and as the end of the twelve years +drew near the merchant began to call to mind his bond, and became very +sad and thoughtful; so that care and sorrow were written upon his +face. The boy one day asked what was the matter, but his father would +not tell for some time; at last, however, he said that he had, without +knowing it, sold him for gold to a little, ugly-looking, black dwarf, +and that the twelve years were coming round when he must keep his +word. Then Heinel said, 'Father, give yourself very little trouble +about that; I shall be too much for the little man.' + +When the time came, the father and son went out together to the place +agreed upon: and the son drew a circle on the ground, and set himself +and his father in the middle of it. The little black dwarf soon came, +and walked round and round about the circle, but could not find any +way to get into it, and he either could not, or dared not, jump over +it. At last the boy said to him. 'Have you anything to say to us, my +friend, or what do you want?' Now Heinel had found a friend in a good +fairy, that was fond of him, and had told him what to do; for this +fairy knew what good luck was in store for him. 'Have you brought me +what you said you would?' said the dwarf to the merchant. The old man +held his tongue, but Heinel said again, 'What do you want here?' The +dwarf said, 'I come to talk with your father, not with you.' 'You have +cheated and taken in my father,' said the son; 'pray give him up his +bond at once.' 'Fair and softly,' said the little old man; 'right is +right; I have paid my money, and your father has had it, and spent it; +so be so good as to let me have what I paid it for.' 'You must have my +consent to that first,' said Heinel, 'so please to step in here, and +let us talk it over.' The old man grinned, and showed his teeth, as if +he should have been very glad to get into the circle if he could. Then +at last, after a long talk, they came to terms. Heinel agreed that his +father must give him up, and that so far the dwarf should have his +way: but, on the other hand, the fairy had told Heinel what fortune +was in store for him, if he followed his own course; and he did not +choose to be given up to his hump-backed friend, who seemed so anxious +for his company. + +So, to make a sort of drawn battle of the matter, it was settled that +Heinel should be put into an open boat, that lay on the sea-shore hard +by; that the father should push him off with his own hand, and that he +should thus be set adrift, and left to the bad or good luck of wind +and weather. Then he took leave of his father, and set himself in the +boat, but before it got far off a wave struck it, and it fell with one +side low in the water, so the merchant thought that poor Heinel was +lost, and went home very sorrowful, while the dwarf went his way, +thinking that at any rate he had had his revenge. + +The boat, however, did not sink, for the good fairy took care of her +friend, and soon raised the boat up again, and it went safely on. The +young man sat safe within, till at length it ran ashore upon an +unknown land. As he jumped upon the shore he saw before him a +beautiful castle but empty and dreary within, for it was enchanted. +'Here,' said he to himself, 'must I find the prize the good fairy told +me of.' So he once more searched the whole palace through, till at +last he found a white snake, lying coiled up on a cushion in one of +the chambers. + +Now the white snake was an enchanted princess; and she was very glad +to see him, and said, 'Are you at last come to set me free? Twelve +long years have I waited here for the fairy to bring you hither as she +promised, for you alone can save me. This night twelve men will come: +their faces will be black, and they will be dressed in chain armour. +They will ask what you do here, but give no answer; and let them do +what they will--beat, whip, pinch, prick, or torment you--bear all; +only speak not a word, and at twelve o'clock they must go away. The +second night twelve others will come: and the third night twenty-four, +who will even cut off your head; but at the twelfth hour of that night +their power is gone, and I shall be free, and will come and bring you +the Water of Life, and will wash you with it, and bring you back to +life and health.' And all came to pass as she had said; Heinel bore +all, and spoke not a word; and the third night the princess came, and +fell on his neck and kissed him. Joy and gladness burst forth +throughout the castle, the wedding was celebrated, and he was crowned +king of the Golden Mountain. + +They lived together very happily, and the queen had a son. And thus +eight years had passed over their heads, when the king thought of his +father; and he began to long to see him once again. But the queen was +against his going, and said, 'I know well that misfortunes will come +upon us if you go.' However, he gave her no rest till she agreed. At +his going away she gave him a wishing-ring, and said, 'Take this ring, +and put it on your finger; whatever you wish it will bring you; only +promise never to make use of it to bring me hence to your father's +house.' Then he said he would do what she asked, and put the ring on +his finger, and wished himself near the town where his father lived. + +Heinel found himself at the gates in a moment; but the guards would +not let him go in, because he was so strangely clad. So he went up to +a neighbouring hill, where a shepherd dwelt, and borrowed his old +frock, and thus passed unknown into the town. When he came to his +father's house, he said he was his son; but the merchant would not +believe him, and said he had had but one son, his poor Heinel, who he +knew was long since dead: and as he was only dressed like a poor +shepherd, he would not even give him anything to eat. The king, +however, still vowed that he was his son, and said, 'Is there no mark +by which you would know me if I am really your son?' 'Yes,' said his +mother, 'our Heinel had a mark like a raspberry on his right arm.' +Then he showed them the mark, and they knew that what he had said was +true. + +He next told them how he was king of the Golden Mountain, and was +married to a princess, and had a son seven years old. But the merchant +said, 'that can never be true; he must be a fine king truly who travels +about in a shepherd's frock!' At this the son was vexed; and forgetting +his word, turned his ring, and wished for his queen and son. In an +instant they stood before him; but the queen wept, and said he had +broken his word, and bad luck would follow. He did all he could to +soothe her, and she at last seemed to be appeased; but she was not so in +truth, and was only thinking how she should punish him. + +One day he took her to walk with him out of the town, and showed her +the spot where the boat was set adrift upon the wide waters. Then he +sat himself down, and said, 'I am very much tired; sit by me, I will +rest my head in your lap, and sleep a while.' As soon as he had fallen +asleep, however, she drew the ring from his finger, and crept softly +away, and wished herself and her son at home in their kingdom. And +when he awoke he found himself alone, and saw that the ring was gone +from his finger. 'I can never go back to my father's house,' said he; +'they would say I am a sorcerer: I will journey forth into the world, +till I come again to my kingdom.' + +So saying he set out and travelled till he came to a hill, where three +giants were sharing their father's goods; and as they saw him pass +they cried out and said, 'Little men have sharp wits; he shall part +the goods between us.' Now there was a sword that cut off an enemy's +head whenever the wearer gave the words, 'Heads off!'; a cloak that +made the owner invisible, or gave him any form he pleased; and a pair +of boots that carried the wearer wherever he wished. Heinel said they +must first let him try these wonderful things, then he might know how +to set a value upon them. Then they gave him the cloak, and he wished +himself a fly, and in a moment he was a fly. 'The cloak is very well,' +said he: 'now give me the sword.' 'No,' said they; 'not unless you +undertake not to say, "Heads off!" for if you do we are all dead men.' +So they gave it him, charging him to try it on a tree. He next asked +for the boots also; and the moment he had all three in his power, he +wished himself at the Golden Mountain; and there he was at once. So +the giants were left behind with no goods to share or quarrel about. + +As Heinel came near his castle he heard the sound of merry music; and +the people around told him that his queen was about to marry another +husband. Then he threw his cloak around him, and passed through the +castle hall, and placed himself by the side of the queen, where no one +saw him. But when anything to eat was put upon her plate, he took it +away and ate it himself; and when a glass of wine was handed to her, +he took it and drank it; and thus, though they kept on giving her meat +and drink, her plate and cup were always empty. + +Upon this, fear and remorse came over her, and she went into her +chamber alone, and sat there weeping; and he followed her there. +'Alas!' said she to herself, 'was I not once set free? Why then does +this enchantment still seem to bind me?' + +'False and fickle one!' said he. 'One indeed came who set thee free, +and he is now near thee again; but how have you used him? Ought he to +have had such treatment from thee?' Then he went out and sent away the +company, and said the wedding was at an end, for that he was come back +to the kingdom. But the princes, peers, and great men mocked at him. +However, he would enter into no parley with them, but only asked them +if they would go in peace or not. Then they turned upon him and tried +to seize him; but he drew his sword. 'Heads Off!' cried he; and with +the word the traitors' heads fell before him, and Heinel was once more +king of the Golden Mountain. + + + +DOCTOR KNOWALL + +There was once upon a time a poor peasant called Crabb, who drove with +two oxen a load of wood to the town, and sold it to a doctor for two +talers. When the money was being counted out to him, it so happened +that the doctor was sitting at table, and when the peasant saw how +well he ate and drank, his heart desired what he saw, and would +willingly have been a doctor too. So he remained standing a while, and +at length inquired if he too could not be a doctor. 'Oh, yes,' said +the doctor, 'that is soon managed.' 'What must I do?' asked the +peasant. 'In the first place buy yourself an A B C book of the kind +which has a cock on the frontispiece; in the second, turn your cart +and your two oxen into money, and get yourself some clothes, and +whatsoever else pertains to medicine; thirdly, have a sign painted for +yourself with the words: "I am Doctor Knowall," and have that nailed +up above your house-door.' The peasant did everything that he had been +told to do. When he had doctored people awhile, but not long, a rich +and great lord had some money stolen. Then he was told about Doctor +Knowall who lived in such and such a village, and must know what had +become of the money. So the lord had the horses harnessed to his +carriage, drove out to the village, and asked Crabb if he were Doctor +Knowall. Yes, he was, he said. Then he was to go with him and bring +back the stolen money. 'Oh, yes, but Grete, my wife, must go too.' The +lord was willing, and let both of them have a seat in the carriage, +and they all drove away together. When they came to the nobleman's +castle, the table was spread, and Crabb was told to sit down and eat. +'Yes, but my wife, Grete, too,' said he, and he seated himself with +her at the table. And when the first servant came with a dish of +delicate fare, the peasant nudged his wife, and said: 'Grete, that was +the first,' meaning that was the servant who brought the first dish. +The servant, however, thought he intended by that to say: 'That is the +first thief,' and as he actually was so, he was terrified, and said to +his comrade outside: 'The doctor knows all: we shall fare ill, he said +I was the first.' The second did not want to go in at all, but was +forced. So when he went in with his dish, the peasant nudged his wife, +and said: 'Grete, that is the second.' This servant was equally +alarmed, and he got out as fast as he could. The third fared no +better, for the peasant again said: 'Grete, that is the third.' The +fourth had to carry in a dish that was covered, and the lord told the +doctor that he was to show his skill, and guess what was beneath the +cover. Actually, there were crabs. The doctor looked at the dish, had +no idea what to say, and cried: 'Ah, poor Crabb.' When the lord heard +that, he cried: 'There! he knows it; he must also know who has the +money!' + +On this the servants looked terribly uneasy, and made a sign to the +doctor that they wished him to step outside for a moment. When +therefore he went out, all four of them confessed to him that they had +stolen the money, and said that they would willingly restore it and +give him a heavy sum into the bargain, if he would not denounce them, +for if he did they would be hanged. They led him to the spot where the +money was concealed. With this the doctor was satisfied, and returned +to the hall, sat down to the table, and said: 'My lord, now will I +search in my book where the gold is hidden.' The fifth servant, +however, crept into the stove to hear if the doctor knew still more. +But the doctor sat still and opened his A B C book, turned the pages +backwards and forwards, and looked for the cock. As he could not find +it immediately he said: 'I know you are there, so you had better come +out!' Then the fellow in the stove thought that the doctor meant him, +and full of terror, sprang out, crying: 'That man knows everything!' +Then Doctor Knowall showed the lord where the money was, but did not +say who had stolen it, and received from both sides much money in +reward, and became a renowned man. + + + +THE SEVEN RAVENS + +There was once a man who had seven sons, and last of all one daughter. +Although the little girl was very pretty, she was so weak and small +that they thought she could not live; but they said she should at once +be christened. + +So the father sent one of his sons in haste to the spring to get some +water, but the other six ran with him. Each wanted to be first at +drawing the water, and so they were in such a hurry that all let their +pitchers fall into the well, and they stood very foolishly looking at +one another, and did not know what to do, for none dared go home. In +the meantime the father was uneasy, and could not tell what made the +young men stay so long. 'Surely,' said he, 'the whole seven must have +forgotten themselves over some game of play'; and when he had waited +still longer and they yet did not come, he flew into a rage and wished +them all turned into ravens. Scarcely had he spoken these words when +he heard a croaking over his head, and looked up and saw seven ravens +as black as coal flying round and round. Sorry as he was to see his +wish so fulfilled, he did not know how what was done could be undone, +and comforted himself as well as he could for the loss of his seven +sons with his dear little daughter, who soon became stronger and every +day more beautiful. + +For a long time she did not know that she had ever had any brothers; +for her father and mother took care not to speak of them before her: +but one day by chance she heard the people about her speak of them. +'Yes,' said they, 'she is beautiful indeed, but still 'tis a pity that +her brothers should have been lost for her sake.' Then she was much +grieved, and went to her father and mother, and asked if she had any +brothers, and what had become of them. So they dared no longer hide +the truth from her, but said it was the will of Heaven, and that her +birth was only the innocent cause of it; but the little girl mourned +sadly about it every day, and thought herself bound to do all she +could to bring her brothers back; and she had neither rest nor ease, +till at length one day she stole away, and set out into the wide world +to find her brothers, wherever they might be, and free them, whatever +it might cost her. + +She took nothing with her but a little ring which her father and +mother had given her, a loaf of bread in case she should be hungry, a +little pitcher of water in case she should be thirsty, and a little +stool to rest upon when she should be weary. Thus she went on and on, +and journeyed till she came to the world's end; then she came to the +sun, but the sun looked much too hot and fiery; so she ran away +quickly to the moon, but the moon was cold and chilly, and said, 'I +smell flesh and blood this way!' so she took herself away in a hurry +and came to the stars, and the stars were friendly and kind to her, +and each star sat upon his own little stool; but the morning star rose +up and gave her a little piece of wood, and said, 'If you have not +this little piece of wood, you cannot unlock the castle that stands on +the glass-mountain, and there your brothers live.' The little girl +took the piece of wood, rolled it up in a little cloth, and went on +again until she came to the glass-mountain, and found the door shut. +Then she felt for the little piece of wood; but when she unwrapped the +cloth it was not there, and she saw she had lost the gift of the good +stars. What was to be done? She wanted to save her brothers, and had +no key of the castle of the glass-mountain; so this faithful little +sister took a knife out of her pocket and cut off her little finger, +that was just the size of the piece of wood she had lost, and put it +in the door and opened it. + +As she went in, a little dwarf came up to her, and said, 'What are you +seeking for?' 'I seek for my brothers, the seven ravens,' answered +she. Then the dwarf said, 'My masters are not at home; but if you will +wait till they come, pray step in.' Now the little dwarf was getting +their dinner ready, and he brought their food upon seven little +plates, and their drink in seven little glasses, and set them upon the +table, and out of each little plate their sister ate a small piece, +and out of each little glass she drank a small drop; but she let the +ring that she had brought with her fall into the last glass. + +On a sudden she heard a fluttering and croaking in the air, and the +dwarf said, 'Here come my masters.' When they came in, they wanted to +eat and drink, and looked for their little plates and glasses. Then +said one after the other, + +'Who has eaten from my little plate? And who has been drinking out of +my little glass?' + + 'Caw! Caw! well I ween + Mortal lips have this way been.' + +When the seventh came to the bottom of his glass, and found there the +ring, he looked at it, and knew that it was his father's and mother's, +and said, 'O that our little sister would but come! then we should be +free.' When the little girl heard this (for she stood behind the door +all the time and listened), she ran forward, and in an instant all the +ravens took their right form again; and all hugged and kissed each +other, and went merrily home. + + + +THE WEDDING OF MRS FOX + + +FIRST STORY + +There was once upon a time an old fox with nine tails, who believed +that his wife was not faithful to him, and wished to put her to the +test. He stretched himself out under the bench, did not move a limb, +and behaved as if he were stone dead. Mrs Fox went up to her room, +shut herself in, and her maid, Miss Cat, sat by the fire, and did the +cooking. When it became known that the old fox was dead, suitors +presented themselves. The maid heard someone standing at the house- +door, knocking. She went and opened it, and it was a young fox, who +said: + + 'What may you be about, Miss Cat? + Do you sleep or do you wake?' + +She answered: + + 'I am not sleeping, I am waking, + Would you know what I am making? + I am boiling warm beer with butter, + Will you be my guest for supper?' + +'No, thank you, miss,' said the fox, 'what is Mrs Fox doing?' The maid +replied: + + 'She is sitting in her room, + Moaning in her gloom, + Weeping her little eyes quite red, + Because old Mr Fox is dead.' + +'Do just tell her, miss, that a young fox is here, who would like to +woo her.' 'Certainly, young sir.' + + The cat goes up the stairs trip, trap, + The door she knocks at tap, tap, tap, + 'Mistress Fox, are you inside?' + 'Oh, yes, my little cat,' she cried. + 'A wooer he stands at the door out there.' + 'What does he look like, my dear?' + +'Has he nine as beautiful tails as the late Mr Fox?' 'Oh, no,' +answered the cat, 'he has only one.' 'Then I will not have him.' + +Miss Cat went downstairs and sent the wooer away. Soon afterwards +there was another knock, and another fox was at the door who wished to +woo Mrs Fox. He had two tails, but he did not fare better than the +first. After this still more came, each with one tail more than the +other, but they were all turned away, until at last one came who had +nine tails, like old Mr Fox. When the widow heard that, she said +joyfully to the cat: + + 'Now open the gates and doors all wide, + And carry old Mr Fox outside.' + +But just as the wedding was going to be solemnized, old Mr Fox stirred +under the bench, and cudgelled all the rabble, and drove them and Mrs +Fox out of the house. + + +SECOND STORY + +When old Mr Fox was dead, the wolf came as a suitor, and knocked at +the door, and the cat who was servant to Mrs Fox, opened it for him. +The wolf greeted her, and said: + + 'Good day, Mrs Cat of Kehrewit, + How comes it that alone you sit? + What are you making good?' + +The cat replied: + + 'In milk I'm breaking bread so sweet, + Will you be my guest, and eat?' + +'No, thank you, Mrs Cat,' answered the wolf. 'Is Mrs Fox not at home?' + +The cat said: + + 'She sits upstairs in her room, + Bewailing her sorrowful doom, + Bewailing her trouble so sore, + For old Mr Fox is no more.' + +The wolf answered: + + 'If she's in want of a husband now, + Then will it please her to step below?' + The cat runs quickly up the stair, + And lets her tail fly here and there, + Until she comes to the parlour door. + With her five gold rings at the door she knocks: + 'Are you within, good Mistress Fox? + If you're in want of a husband now, + Then will it please you to step below? + +Mrs Fox asked: 'Has the gentleman red stockings on, and has he a +pointed mouth?' 'No,' answered the cat. 'Then he won't do for me.' + +When the wolf was gone, came a dog, a stag, a hare, a bear, a lion, +and all the beasts of the forest, one after the other. But one of the +good qualities which old Mr Fox had possessed, was always lacking, and +the cat had continually to send the suitors away. At length came a +young fox. Then Mrs Fox said: 'Has the gentleman red stockings on, and +has a little pointed mouth?' 'Yes,' said the cat, 'he has.' 'Then let +him come upstairs,' said Mrs Fox, and ordered the servant to prepare +the wedding feast. + + 'Sweep me the room as clean as you can, + Up with the window, fling out my old man! + For many a fine fat mouse he brought, + Yet of his wife he never thought, + But ate up every one he caught.' + +Then the wedding was solemnized with young Mr Fox, and there was much +rejoicing and dancing; and if they have not left off, they are dancing +still. + + + +THE SALAD + +As a merry young huntsman was once going briskly along through a wood, +there came up a little old woman, and said to him, 'Good day, good +day; you seem merry enough, but I am hungry and thirsty; do pray give +me something to eat.' The huntsman took pity on her, and put his hand +in his pocket and gave her what he had. Then he wanted to go his way; +but she took hold of him, and said, 'Listen, my friend, to what I am +going to tell you; I will reward you for your kindness; go your way, +and after a little time you will come to a tree where you will see +nine birds sitting on a cloak. Shoot into the midst of them, and one +will fall down dead: the cloak will fall too; take it, it is a +wishing-cloak, and when you wear it you will find yourself at any +place where you may wish to be. Cut open the dead bird, take out its +heart and keep it, and you will find a piece of gold under your pillow +every morning when you rise. It is the bird's heart that will bring +you this good luck.' + +The huntsman thanked her, and thought to himself, 'If all this does +happen, it will be a fine thing for me.' When he had gone a hundred +steps or so, he heard a screaming and chirping in the branches over +him, and looked up and saw a flock of birds pulling a cloak with their +bills and feet; screaming, fighting, and tugging at each other as if +each wished to have it himself. 'Well,' said the huntsman, 'this is +wonderful; this happens just as the old woman said'; then he shot into +the midst of them so that their feathers flew all about. Off went the +flock chattering away; but one fell down dead, and the cloak with it. +Then the huntsman did as the old woman told him, cut open the bird, +took out the heart, and carried the cloak home with him. + +The next morning when he awoke he lifted up his pillow, and there lay +the piece of gold glittering underneath; the same happened next day, +and indeed every day when he arose. He heaped up a great deal of gold, +and at last thought to himself, 'Of what use is this gold to me whilst +I am at home? I will go out into the world and look about me.' + +Then he took leave of his friends, and hung his bag and bow about his +neck, and went his way. It so happened that his road one day led +through a thick wood, at the end of which was a large castle in a +green meadow, and at one of the windows stood an old woman with a very +beautiful young lady by her side looking about them. Now the old woman +was a witch, and said to the young lady, 'There is a young man coming +out of the wood who carries a wonderful prize; we must get it away +from him, my dear child, for it is more fit for us than for him. He +has a bird's heart that brings a piece of gold under his pillow every +morning.' Meantime the huntsman came nearer and looked at the lady, +and said to himself, 'I have been travelling so long that I should +like to go into this castle and rest myself, for I have money enough +to pay for anything I want'; but the real reason was, that he wanted +to see more of the beautiful lady. Then he went into the house, and +was welcomed kindly; and it was not long before he was so much in love +that he thought of nothing else but looking at the lady's eyes, and +doing everything that she wished. Then the old woman said, 'Now is the +time for getting the bird's heart.' So the lady stole it away, and he +never found any more gold under his pillow, for it lay now under the +young lady's, and the old woman took it away every morning; but he was +so much in love that he never missed his prize. + +'Well,' said the old witch, 'we have got the bird's heart, but not the +wishing-cloak yet, and that we must also get.' 'Let us leave him +that,' said the young lady; 'he has already lost his wealth.' Then the +witch was very angry, and said, 'Such a cloak is a very rare and +wonderful thing, and I must and will have it.' So she did as the old +woman told her, and set herself at the window, and looked about the +country and seemed very sorrowful; then the huntsman said, 'What makes +you so sad?' 'Alas! dear sir,' said she, 'yonder lies the granite rock +where all the costly diamonds grow, and I want so much to go there, +that whenever I think of it I cannot help being sorrowful, for who can +reach it? only the birds and the flies--man cannot.' 'If that's all +your grief,' said the huntsman, 'I'll take there with all my heart'; +so he drew her under his cloak, and the moment he wished to be on the +granite mountain they were both there. The diamonds glittered so on +all sides that they were delighted with the sight and picked up the +finest. But the old witch made a deep sleep come upon him, and he said +to the young lady, 'Let us sit down and rest ourselves a little, I am +so tired that I cannot stand any longer.' So they sat down, and he +laid his head in her lap and fell asleep; and whilst he was sleeping +on she took the cloak from his shoulders, hung it on her own, picked +up the diamonds, and wished herself home again. + +When he awoke and found that his lady had tricked him, and left him +alone on the wild rock, he said, 'Alas! what roguery there is in the +world!' and there he sat in great grief and fear, not knowing what to +do. Now this rock belonged to fierce giants who lived upon it; and as +he saw three of them striding about, he thought to himself, 'I can +only save myself by feigning to be asleep'; so he laid himself down as +if he were in a sound sleep. When the giants came up to him, the first +pushed him with his foot, and said, 'What worm is this that lies here +curled up?' 'Tread upon him and kill him,' said the second. 'It's not +worth the trouble,' said the third; 'let him live, he'll go climbing +higher up the mountain, and some cloud will come rolling and carry him +away.' And they passed on. But the huntsman had heard all they said; +and as soon as they were gone, he climbed to the top of the mountain, +and when he had sat there a short time a cloud came rolling around +him, and caught him in a whirlwind and bore him along for some time, +till it settled in a garden, and he fell quite gently to the ground +amongst the greens and cabbages. + +Then he looked around him, and said, 'I wish I had something to eat, +if not I shall be worse off than before; for here I see neither apples +nor pears, nor any kind of fruits, nothing but vegetables.' At last he +thought to himself, 'I can eat salad, it will refresh and strengthen +me.' So he picked out a fine head and ate of it; but scarcely had he +swallowed two bites when he felt himself quite changed, and saw with +horror that he was turned into an ass. However, he still felt very +hungry, and the salad tasted very nice; so he ate on till he came to +another kind of salad, and scarcely had he tasted it when he felt +another change come over him, and soon saw that he was lucky enough to +have found his old shape again. + +Then he laid himself down and slept off a little of his weariness; and +when he awoke the next morning he broke off a head both of the good +and the bad salad, and thought to himself, 'This will help me to my +fortune again, and enable me to pay off some folks for their +treachery.' So he went away to try and find the castle of his friends; +and after wandering about a few days he luckily found it. Then he +stained his face all over brown, so that even his mother would not +have known him, and went into the castle and asked for a lodging; 'I +am so tired,' said he, 'that I can go no farther.' 'Countryman,' said +the witch, 'who are you? and what is your business?' 'I am,' said he, +'a messenger sent by the king to find the finest salad that grows +under the sun. I have been lucky enough to find it, and have brought +it with me; but the heat of the sun scorches so that it begins to +wither, and I don't know that I can carry it farther.' + +When the witch and the young lady heard of his beautiful salad, they +longed to taste it, and said, 'Dear countryman, let us just taste it.' +'To be sure,' answered he; 'I have two heads of it with me, and will +give you one'; so he opened his bag and gave them the bad. Then the +witch herself took it into the kitchen to be dressed; and when it was +ready she could not wait till it was carried up, but took a few leaves +immediately and put them in her mouth, and scarcely were they +swallowed when she lost her own form and ran braying down into the +court in the form of an ass. Now the servant-maid came into the +kitchen, and seeing the salad ready, was going to carry it up; but on +the way she too felt a wish to taste it as the old woman had done, and +ate some leaves; so she also was turned into an ass and ran after the +other, letting the dish with the salad fall on the ground. The +messenger sat all this time with the beautiful young lady, and as +nobody came with the salad and she longed to taste it, she said, 'I +don't know where the salad can be.' Then he thought something must +have happened, and said, 'I will go into the kitchen and see.' And as +he went he saw two asses in the court running about, and the salad +lying on the ground. 'All right!' said he; 'those two have had their +share.' Then he took up the rest of the leaves, laid them on the dish +and brought them to the young lady, saying, 'I bring you the dish +myself that you may not wait any longer.' So she ate of it, and like +the others ran off into the court braying away. + +Then the huntsman washed his face and went into the court that they +might know him. 'Now you shall be paid for your roguery,' said he; and +tied them all three to a rope and took them along with him till he +came to a mill and knocked at the window. 'What's the matter?' said +the miller. 'I have three tiresome beasts here,' said the other; 'if +you will take them, give them food and room, and treat them as I tell +you, I will pay you whatever you ask.' 'With all my heart,' said the +miller; 'but how shall I treat them?' Then the huntsman said, 'Give +the old one stripes three times a day and hay once; give the next (who +was the servant-maid) stripes once a day and hay three times; and give +the youngest (who was the beautiful lady) hay three times a day and no +stripes': for he could not find it in his heart to have her beaten. +After this he went back to the castle, where he found everything he +wanted. + +Some days after, the miller came to him and told him that the old ass +was dead; 'The other two,' said he, 'are alive and eat, but are so +sorrowful that they cannot last long.' Then the huntsman pitied them, +and told the miller to drive them back to him, and when they came, he +gave them some of the good salad to eat. And the beautiful young lady +fell upon her knees before him, and said, 'O dearest huntsman! forgive +me all the ill I have done you; my mother forced me to it, it was +against my will, for I always loved you very much. Your wishing-cloak +hangs up in the closet, and as for the bird's heart, I will give it +you too.' But he said, 'Keep it, it will be just the same thing, for I +mean to make you my wife.' So they were married, and lived together +very happily till they died. + + + +THE STORY OF THE YOUTH WHO WENT FORTH TO LEARN WHAT FEAR WAS + +A certain father had two sons, the elder of who was smart and +sensible, and could do everything, but the younger was stupid and +could neither learn nor understand anything, and when people saw him +they said: 'There's a fellow who will give his father some trouble!' +When anything had to be done, it was always the elder who was forced +to do it; but if his father bade him fetch anything when it was late, +or in the night-time, and the way led through the churchyard, or any +other dismal place, he answered: 'Oh, no father, I'll not go there, it +makes me shudder!' for he was afraid. Or when stories were told by the +fire at night which made the flesh creep, the listeners sometimes +said: 'Oh, it makes us shudder!' The younger sat in a corner and +listened with the rest of them, and could not imagine what they could +mean. 'They are always saying: "It makes me shudder, it makes me +shudder!" It does not make me shudder,' thought he. 'That, too, must +be an art of which I understand nothing!' + +Now it came to pass that his father said to him one day: 'Hearken to +me, you fellow in the corner there, you are growing tall and strong, +and you too must learn something by which you can earn your bread. +Look how your brother works, but you do not even earn your salt.' +'Well, father,' he replied, 'I am quite willing to learn something-- +indeed, if it could but be managed, I should like to learn how to +shudder. I don't understand that at all yet.' The elder brother smiled +when he heard that, and thought to himself: 'Goodness, what a +blockhead that brother of mine is! He will never be good for anything +as long as he lives! He who wants to be a sickle must bend himself +betimes.' + +The father sighed, and answered him: 'You shall soon learn what it is +to shudder, but you will not earn your bread by that.' + +Soon after this the sexton came to the house on a visit, and the +father bewailed his trouble, and told him how his younger son was so +backward in every respect that he knew nothing and learnt nothing. +'Just think,' said he, 'when I asked him how he was going to earn his +bread, he actually wanted to learn to shudder.' 'If that be all,' +replied the sexton, 'he can learn that with me. Send him to me, and I +will soon polish him.' The father was glad to do it, for he thought: +'It will train the boy a little.' The sexton therefore took him into +his house, and he had to ring the church bell. After a day or two, the +sexton awoke him at midnight, and bade him arise and go up into the +church tower and ring the bell. 'You shall soon learn what shuddering +is,' thought he, and secretly went there before him; and when the boy +was at the top of the tower and turned round, and was just going to +take hold of the bell rope, he saw a white figure standing on the +stairs opposite the sounding hole. 'Who is there?' cried he, but the +figure made no reply, and did not move or stir. 'Give an answer,' +cried the boy, 'or take yourself off, you have no business here at +night.' + +The sexton, however, remained standing motionless that the boy might +think he was a ghost. The boy cried a second time: 'What do you want +here?--speak if you are an honest fellow, or I will throw you down the +steps!' The sexton thought: 'He can't mean to be as bad as his words,' +uttered no sound and stood as if he were made of stone. Then the boy +called to him for the third time, and as that was also to no purpose, +he ran against him and pushed the ghost down the stairs, so that it +fell down the ten steps and remained lying there in a corner. +Thereupon he rang the bell, went home, and without saying a word went +to bed, and fell asleep. The sexton's wife waited a long time for her +husband, but he did not come back. At length she became uneasy, and +wakened the boy, and asked: 'Do you know where my husband is? He +climbed up the tower before you did.' 'No, I don't know,' replied the +boy, 'but someone was standing by the sounding hole on the other side +of the steps, and as he would neither gave an answer nor go away, I +took him for a scoundrel, and threw him downstairs. Just go there and +you will see if it was he. I should be sorry if it were.' The woman +ran away and found her husband, who was lying moaning in the corner, +and had broken his leg. + +She carried him down, and then with loud screams she hastened to the +boy's father, 'Your boy,' cried she, 'has been the cause of a great +misfortune! He has thrown my husband down the steps so that he broke +his leg. Take the good-for-nothing fellow out of our house.' The +father was terrified, and ran thither and scolded the boy. 'What +wicked tricks are these?' said he. 'The devil must have put them into +your head.' 'Father,' he replied, 'do listen to me. I am quite +innocent. He was standing there by night like one intent on doing +evil. I did not know who it was, and I entreated him three times +either to speak or to go away.' 'Ah,' said the father, 'I have nothing +but unhappiness with you. Go out of my sight. I will see you no more.' + +'Yes, father, right willingly, wait only until it is day. Then will I +go forth and learn how to shudder, and then I shall, at any rate, +understand one art which will support me.' 'Learn what you will,' +spoke the father, 'it is all the same to me. Here are fifty talers for +you. Take these and go into the wide world, and tell no one from +whence you come, and who is your father, for I have reason to be +ashamed of you.' 'Yes, father, it shall be as you will. If you desire +nothing more than that, I can easily keep it in mind.' + +When the day dawned, therefore, the boy put his fifty talers into his +pocket, and went forth on the great highway, and continually said to +himself: 'If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!' Then a man +approached who heard this conversation which the youth was holding +with himself, and when they had walked a little farther to where they +could see the gallows, the man said to him: 'Look, there is the tree +where seven men have married the ropemaker's daughter, and are now +learning how to fly. Sit down beneath it, and wait till night comes, +and you will soon learn how to shudder.' 'If that is all that is +wanted,' answered the youth, 'it is easily done; but if I learn how to +shudder as fast as that, you shall have my fifty talers. Just come +back to me early in the morning.' Then the youth went to the gallows, +sat down beneath it, and waited till evening came. And as he was cold, +he lighted himself a fire, but at midnight the wind blew so sharply +that in spite of his fire, he could not get warm. And as the wind +knocked the hanged men against each other, and they moved backwards +and forwards, he thought to himself: 'If you shiver below by the fire, +how those up above must freeze and suffer!' And as he felt pity for +them, he raised the ladder, and climbed up, unbound one of them after +the other, and brought down all seven. Then he stoked the fire, blew +it, and set them all round it to warm themselves. But they sat there +and did not stir, and the fire caught their clothes. So he said: 'Take +care, or I will hang you up again.' The dead men, however, did not +hear, but were quite silent, and let their rags go on burning. At this +he grew angry, and said: 'If you will not take care, I cannot help +you, I will not be burnt with you,' and he hung them up again each in +his turn. Then he sat down by his fire and fell asleep, and the next +morning the man came to him and wanted to have the fifty talers, and +said: 'Well do you know how to shudder?' 'No,' answered he, 'how +should I know? Those fellows up there did not open their mouths, and +were so stupid that they let the few old rags which they had on their +bodies get burnt.' Then the man saw that he would not get the fifty +talers that day, and went away saying: 'Such a youth has never come my +way before.' + +The youth likewise went his way, and once more began to mutter to +himself: 'Ah, if I could but shudder! Ah, if I could but shudder!' A +waggoner who was striding behind him heard this and asked: 'Who are +you?' 'I don't know,' answered the youth. Then the waggoner asked: +'From whence do you come?' 'I know not.' 'Who is your father?' 'That I +may not tell you.' 'What is it that you are always muttering between +your teeth?' 'Ah,' replied the youth, 'I do so wish I could shudder, +but no one can teach me how.' 'Enough of your foolish chatter,' said +the waggoner. 'Come, go with me, I will see about a place for you.' +The youth went with the waggoner, and in the evening they arrived at +an inn where they wished to pass the night. Then at the entrance of +the parlour the youth again said quite loudly: 'If I could but +shudder! If I could but shudder!' The host who heard this, laughed and +said: 'If that is your desire, there ought to be a good opportunity +for you here.' 'Ah, be silent,' said the hostess, 'so many prying +persons have already lost their lives, it would be a pity and a shame +if such beautiful eyes as these should never see the daylight again.' + +But the youth said: 'However difficult it may be, I will learn it. For +this purpose indeed have I journeyed forth.' He let the host have no +rest, until the latter told him, that not far from thence stood a +haunted castle where anyone could very easily learn what shuddering +was, if he would but watch in it for three nights. The king had +promised that he who would venture should have his daughter to wife, +and she was the most beautiful maiden the sun shone on. Likewise in +the castle lay great treasures, which were guarded by evil spirits, +and these treasures would then be freed, and would make a poor man +rich enough. Already many men had gone into the castle, but as yet +none had come out again. Then the youth went next morning to the king, +and said: 'If it be allowed, I will willingly watch three nights in +the haunted castle.' + +The king looked at him, and as the youth pleased him, he said: 'You +may ask for three things to take into the castle with you, but they +must be things without life.' Then he answered: 'Then I ask for a +fire, a turning lathe, and a cutting-board with the knife.' + +The king had these things carried into the castle for him during the +day. When night was drawing near, the youth went up and made himself a +bright fire in one of the rooms, placed the cutting-board and knife +beside it, and seated himself by the turning-lathe. 'Ah, if I could +but shudder!' said he, 'but I shall not learn it here either.' Towards +midnight he was about to poke his fire, and as he was blowing it, +something cried suddenly from one corner: 'Au, miau! how cold we are!' +'You fools!' cried he, 'what are you crying about? If you are cold, +come and take a seat by the fire and warm yourselves.' And when he had +said that, two great black cats came with one tremendous leap and sat +down on each side of him, and looked savagely at him with their fiery +eyes. After a short time, when they had warmed themselves, they said: +'Comrade, shall we have a game of cards?' 'Why not?' he replied, 'but +just show me your paws.' Then they stretched out their claws. 'Oh,' +said he, 'what long nails you have! Wait, I must first cut them for +you.' Thereupon he seized them by the throats, put them on the +cutting-board and screwed their feet fast. 'I have looked at your +fingers,' said he, 'and my fancy for card-playing has gone,' and he +struck them dead and threw them out into the water. But when he had +made away with these two, and was about to sit down again by his fire, +out from every hole and corner came black cats and black dogs with +red-hot chains, and more and more of them came until he could no +longer move, and they yelled horribly, and got on his fire, pulled it +to pieces, and tried to put it out. He watched them for a while +quietly, but at last when they were going too far, he seized his +cutting-knife, and cried: 'Away with you, vermin,' and began to cut +them down. Some of them ran away, the others he killed, and threw out +into the fish-pond. When he came back he fanned the embers of his fire +again and warmed himself. And as he thus sat, his eyes would keep open +no longer, and he felt a desire to sleep. Then he looked round and saw +a great bed in the corner. 'That is the very thing for me,' said he, +and got into it. When he was just going to shut his eyes, however, the +bed began to move of its own accord, and went over the whole of the +castle. 'That's right,' said he, 'but go faster.' Then the bed rolled +on as if six horses were harnessed to it, up and down, over thresholds +and stairs, but suddenly hop, hop, it turned over upside down, and lay +on him like a mountain. But he threw quilts and pillows up in the air, +got out and said: 'Now anyone who likes, may drive,' and lay down by +his fire, and slept till it was day. In the morning the king came, and +when he saw him lying there on the ground, he thought the evil spirits +had killed him and he was dead. Then said he: 'After all it is a +pity,--for so handsome a man.' The youth heard it, got up, and said: +'It has not come to that yet.' Then the king was astonished, but very +glad, and asked how he had fared. 'Very well indeed,' answered he; +'one night is past, the two others will pass likewise.' Then he went +to the innkeeper, who opened his eyes very wide, and said: 'I never +expected to see you alive again! Have you learnt how to shudder yet?' +'No,' said he, 'it is all in vain. If someone would but tell me!' + +The second night he again went up into the old castle, sat down by the +fire, and once more began his old song: 'If I could but shudder!' When +midnight came, an uproar and noise of tumbling about was heard; at +first it was low, but it grew louder and louder. Then it was quiet for +a while, and at length with a loud scream, half a man came down the +chimney and fell before him. 'Hullo!' cried he, 'another half belongs +to this. This is not enough!' Then the uproar began again, there was a +roaring and howling, and the other half fell down likewise. 'Wait,' +said he, 'I will just stoke up the fire a little for you.' When he had +done that and looked round again, the two pieces were joined together, +and a hideous man was sitting in his place. 'That is no part of our +bargain,' said the youth, 'the bench is mine.' The man wanted to push +him away; the youth, however, would not allow that, but thrust him off +with all his strength, and seated himself again in his own place. Then +still more men fell down, one after the other; they brought nine dead +men's legs and two skulls, and set them up and played at nine-pins +with them. The youth also wanted to play and said: 'Listen you, can I +join you?' 'Yes, if you have any money.' 'Money enough,' replied he, +'but your balls are not quite round.' Then he took the skulls and put +them in the lathe and turned them till they were round. 'There, now +they will roll better!' said he. 'Hurrah! now we'll have fun!' He +played with them and lost some of his money, but when it struck +twelve, everything vanished from his sight. He lay down and quietly +fell asleep. Next morning the king came to inquire after him. 'How has +it fared with you this time?' asked he. 'I have been playing at nine- +pins,' he answered, 'and have lost a couple of farthings.' 'Have you +not shuddered then?' 'What?' said he, 'I have had a wonderful time! If +I did but know what it was to shudder!' + +The third night he sat down again on his bench and said quite sadly: +'If I could but shudder.' When it grew late, six tall men came in and +brought a coffin. Then he said: 'Ha, ha, that is certainly my little +cousin, who died only a few days ago,' and he beckoned with his +finger, and cried: 'Come, little cousin, come.' They placed the coffin +on the ground, but he went to it and took the lid off, and a dead man +lay therein. He felt his face, but it was cold as ice. 'Wait,' said +he, 'I will warm you a little,' and went to the fire and warmed his +hand and laid it on the dead man's face, but he remained cold. Then he +took him out, and sat down by the fire and laid him on his breast and +rubbed his arms that the blood might circulate again. As this also did +no good, he thought to himself: 'When two people lie in bed together, +they warm each other,' and carried him to the bed, covered him over +and lay down by him. After a short time the dead man became warm too, +and began to move. Then said the youth, 'See, little cousin, have I +not warmed you?' The dead man, however, got up and cried: 'Now will I +strangle you.' + +'What!' said he, 'is that the way you thank me? You shall at once go +into your coffin again,' and he took him up, threw him into it, and +shut the lid. Then came the six men and carried him away again. 'I +cannot manage to shudder,' said he. 'I shall never learn it here as +long as I live.' + +Then a man entered who was taller than all others, and looked +terrible. He was old, however, and had a long white beard. 'You +wretch,' cried he, 'you shall soon learn what it is to shudder, for +you shall die.' 'Not so fast,' replied the youth. 'If I am to die, I +shall have to have a say in it.' 'I will soon seize you,' said the +fiend. 'Softly, softly, do not talk so big. I am as strong as you are, +and perhaps even stronger.' 'We shall see,' said the old man. 'If you +are stronger, I will let you go--come, we will try.' Then he led him +by dark passages to a smith's forge, took an axe, and with one blow +struck an anvil into the ground. 'I can do better than that,' said the +youth, and went to the other anvil. The old man placed himself near +and wanted to look on, and his white beard hung down. Then the youth +seized the axe, split the anvil with one blow, and in it caught the +old man's beard. 'Now I have you,' said the youth. 'Now it is your +turn to die.' Then he seized an iron bar and beat the old man till he +moaned and entreated him to stop, when he would give him great riches. +The youth drew out the axe and let him go. The old man led him back +into the castle, and in a cellar showed him three chests full of gold. +'Of these,' said he, 'one part is for the poor, the other for the +king, the third yours.' In the meantime it struck twelve, and the +spirit disappeared, so that the youth stood in darkness. 'I shall +still be able to find my way out,' said he, and felt about, found the +way into the room, and slept there by his fire. Next morning the king +came and said: 'Now you must have learnt what shuddering is?' 'No,' he +answered; 'what can it be? My dead cousin was here, and a bearded man +came and showed me a great deal of money down below, but no one told +me what it was to shudder.' 'Then,' said the king, 'you have saved the +castle, and shall marry my daughter.' 'That is all very well,' said +he, 'but still I do not know what it is to shudder!' + +Then the gold was brought up and the wedding celebrated; but howsoever +much the young king loved his wife, and however happy he was, he still +said always: 'If I could but shudder--if I could but shudder.' And +this at last angered her. Her waiting-maid said: 'I will find a cure +for him; he shall soon learn what it is to shudder.' She went out to +the stream which flowed through the garden, and had a whole bucketful +of gudgeons brought to her. At night when the young king was sleeping, +his wife was to draw the clothes off him and empty the bucket full of +cold water with the gudgeons in it over him, so that the little fishes +would sprawl about him. Then he woke up and cried: 'Oh, what makes me +shudder so?-- what makes me shudder so, dear wife? Ah! now I know what +it is to shudder!' + + + +KING GRISLY-BEARD + +A great king of a land far away in the East had a daughter who was +very beautiful, but so proud, and haughty, and conceited, that none of +the princes who came to ask her in marriage was good enough for her, +and she only made sport of them. + +Once upon a time the king held a great feast, and asked thither all +her suitors; and they all sat in a row, ranged according to their rank +--kings, and princes, and dukes, and earls, and counts, and barons, +and knights. Then the princess came in, and as she passed by them she +had something spiteful to say to every one. The first was too fat: +'He's as round as a tub,' said she. The next was too tall: 'What a +maypole!' said she. The next was too short: 'What a dumpling!' said +she. The fourth was too pale, and she called him 'Wallface.' The fifth +was too red, so she called him 'Coxcomb.' The sixth was not straight +enough; so she said he was like a green stick, that had been laid to +dry over a baker's oven. And thus she had some joke to crack upon +every one: but she laughed more than all at a good king who was there. +'Look at him,' said she; 'his beard is like an old mop; he shall be +called Grisly-beard.' So the king got the nickname of Grisly-beard. + +But the old king was very angry when he saw how his daughter behaved, +and how she ill-treated all his guests; and he vowed that, willing or +unwilling, she should marry the first man, be he prince or beggar, +that came to the door. + +Two days after there came by a travelling fiddler, who began to play +under the window and beg alms; and when the king heard him, he said, +'Let him come in.' So they brought in a dirty-looking fellow; and when +he had sung before the king and the princess, he begged a boon. Then +the king said, 'You have sung so well, that I will give you my +daughter for your wife.' The princess begged and prayed; but the king +said, 'I have sworn to give you to the first comer, and I will keep my +word.' So words and tears were of no avail; the parson was sent for, +and she was married to the fiddler. When this was over the king said, +'Now get ready to go--you must not stay here--you must travel on with +your husband.' + +Then the fiddler went his way, and took her with him, and they soon +came to a great wood. 'Pray,' said she, 'whose is this wood?' 'It +belongs to King Grisly-beard,' answered he; 'hadst thou taken him, all +had been thine.' 'Ah! unlucky wretch that I am!' sighed she; 'would +that I had married King Grisly-beard!' Next they came to some fine +meadows. 'Whose are these beautiful green meadows?' said she. 'They +belong to King Grisly-beard, hadst thou taken him, they had all been +thine.' 'Ah! unlucky wretch that I am!' said she; 'would that I had +married King Grisly-beard!' + +Then they came to a great city. 'Whose is this noble city?' said she. +'It belongs to King Grisly-beard; hadst thou taken him, it had all +been thine.' 'Ah! wretch that I am!' sighed she; 'why did I not marry +King Grisly-beard?' 'That is no business of mine,' said the fiddler: +'why should you wish for another husband? Am not I good enough for +you?' + +At last they came to a small cottage. 'What a paltry place!' said she; +'to whom does that little dirty hole belong?' Then the fiddler said, +'That is your and my house, where we are to live.' 'Where are your +servants?' cried she. 'What do we want with servants?' said he; 'you +must do for yourself whatever is to be done. Now make the fire, and +put on water and cook my supper, for I am very tired.' But the +princess knew nothing of making fires and cooking, and the fiddler was +forced to help her. When they had eaten a very scanty meal they went +to bed; but the fiddler called her up very early in the morning to +clean the house. Thus they lived for two days: and when they had eaten +up all there was in the cottage, the man said, 'Wife, we can't go on +thus, spending money and earning nothing. You must learn to weave +baskets.' Then he went out and cut willows, and brought them home, and +she began to weave; but it made her fingers very sore. 'I see this +work won't do,' said he: 'try and spin; perhaps you will do that +better.' So she sat down and tried to spin; but the threads cut her +tender fingers till the blood ran. 'See now,' said the fiddler, 'you +are good for nothing; you can do no work: what a bargain I have got! +However, I'll try and set up a trade in pots and pans, and you shall +stand in the market and sell them.' 'Alas!' sighed she, 'if any of my +father's court should pass by and see me standing in the market, how +they will laugh at me!' + +But her husband did not care for that, and said she must work, if she +did not wish to die of hunger. At first the trade went well; for many +people, seeing such a beautiful woman, went to buy her wares, and paid +their money without thinking of taking away the goods. They lived on +this as long as it lasted; and then her husband bought a fresh lot of +ware, and she sat herself down with it in the corner of the market; +but a drunken soldier soon came by, and rode his horse against her +stall, and broke all her goods into a thousand pieces. Then she began +to cry, and knew not what to do. 'Ah! what will become of me?' said +she; 'what will my husband say?' So she ran home and told him all. +'Who would have thought you would have been so silly,' said he, 'as to +put an earthenware stall in the corner of the market, where everybody +passes? but let us have no more crying; I see you are not fit for this +sort of work, so I have been to the king's palace, and asked if they +did not want a kitchen-maid; and they say they will take you, and +there you will have plenty to eat.' + +Thus the princess became a kitchen-maid, and helped the cook to do all +the dirtiest work; but she was allowed to carry home some of the meat +that was left, and on this they lived. + +She had not been there long before she heard that the king's eldest +son was passing by, going to be married; and she went to one of the +windows and looked out. Everything was ready, and all the pomp and +brightness of the court was there. Then she bitterly grieved for the +pride and folly which had brought her so low. And the servants gave +her some of the rich meats, which she put into her basket to take +home. + +All on a sudden, as she was going out, in came the king's son in +golden clothes; and when he saw a beautiful woman at the door, he took +her by the hand, and said she should be his partner in the dance; but +she trembled for fear, for she saw that it was King Grisly-beard, who +was making sport of her. However, he kept fast hold, and led her in; +and the cover of the basket came off, so that the meats in it fell +about. Then everybody laughed and jeered at her; and she was so +abashed, that she wished herself a thousand feet deep in the earth. +She sprang to the door to run away; but on the steps King Grisly-beard +overtook her, and brought her back and said, 'Fear me not! I am the +fiddler who has lived with you in the hut. I brought you there because +I really loved you. I am also the soldier that overset your stall. I +have done all this only to cure you of your silly pride, and to show +you the folly of your ill-treatment of me. Now all is over: you have +learnt wisdom, and it is time to hold our marriage feast.' + +Then the chamberlains came and brought her the most beautiful robes; +and her father and his whole court were there already, and welcomed +her home on her marriage. Joy was in every face and every heart. The +feast was grand; they danced and sang; all were merry; and I only wish +that you and I had been of the party. + + + +IRON HANS + +There was once upon a time a king who had a great forest near his +palace, full of all kinds of wild animals. One day he sent out a +huntsman to shoot him a roe, but he did not come back. 'Perhaps some +accident has befallen him,' said the king, and the next day he sent +out two more huntsmen who were to search for him, but they too stayed +away. Then on the third day, he sent for all his huntsmen, and said: +'Scour the whole forest through, and do not give up until you have +found all three.' But of these also, none came home again, none were +seen again. From that time forth, no one would any longer venture into +the forest, and it lay there in deep stillness and solitude, and +nothing was seen of it, but sometimes an eagle or a hawk flying over +it. This lasted for many years, when an unknown huntsman announced +himself to the king as seeking a situation, and offered to go into the +dangerous forest. The king, however, would not give his consent, and +said: 'It is not safe in there; I fear it would fare with you no +better than with the others, and you would never come out again.' The +huntsman replied: 'Lord, I will venture it at my own risk, of fear I +know nothing.' + +The huntsman therefore betook himself with his dog to the forest. It +was not long before the dog fell in with some game on the way, and +wanted to pursue it; but hardly had the dog run two steps when it +stood before a deep pool, could go no farther, and a naked arm +stretched itself out of the water, seized it, and drew it under. When +the huntsman saw that, he went back and fetched three men to come with +buckets and bale out the water. When they could see to the bottom +there lay a wild man whose body was brown like rusty iron, and whose +hair hung over his face down to his knees. They bound him with cords, +and led him away to the castle. There was great astonishment over the +wild man; the king, however, had him put in an iron cage in his +courtyard, and forbade the door to be opened on pain of death, and the +queen herself was to take the key into her keeping. And from this time +forth everyone could again go into the forest with safety. + +The king had a son of eight years, who was once playing in the +courtyard, and while he was playing, his golden ball fell into the +cage. The boy ran thither and said: 'Give me my ball out.' 'Not till +you have opened the door for me,' answered the man. 'No,' said the +boy, 'I will not do that; the king has forbidden it,' and ran away. +The next day he again went and asked for his ball; the wild man said: +'Open my door,' but the boy would not. On the third day the king had +ridden out hunting, and the boy went once more and said: 'I cannot +open the door even if I wished, for I have not the key.' Then the wild +man said: 'It lies under your mother's pillow, you can get it there.' +The boy, who wanted to have his ball back, cast all thought to the +winds, and brought the key. The door opened with difficulty, and the +boy pinched his fingers. When it was open the wild man stepped out, +gave him the golden ball, and hurried away. The boy had become afraid; +he called and cried after him: 'Oh, wild man, do not go away, or I +shall be beaten!' The wild man turned back, took him up, set him on +his shoulder, and went with hasty steps into the forest. When the king +came home, he observed the empty cage, and asked the queen how that +had happened. She knew nothing about it, and sought the key, but it +was gone. She called the boy, but no one answered. The king sent out +people to seek for him in the fields, but they did not find him. Then +he could easily guess what had happened, and much grief reigned in the +royal court. + +When the wild man had once more reached the dark forest, he took the +boy down from his shoulder, and said to him: 'You will never see your +father and mother again, but I will keep you with me, for you have set +me free, and I have compassion on you. If you do all I bid you, you +shall fare well. Of treasure and gold have I enough, and more than +anyone in the world.' He made a bed of moss for the boy on which he +slept, and the next morning the man took him to a well, and said: +'Behold, the gold well is as bright and clear as crystal, you shall +sit beside it, and take care that nothing falls into it, or it will be +polluted. I will come every evening to see if you have obeyed my +order.' The boy placed himself by the brink of the well, and often saw +a golden fish or a golden snake show itself therein, and took care +that nothing fell in. As he was thus sitting, his finger hurt him so +violently that he involuntarily put it in the water. He drew it +quickly out again, but saw that it was quite gilded, and whatsoever +pains he took to wash the gold off again, all was to no purpose. In +the evening Iron Hans came back, looked at the boy, and said: 'What +has happened to the well?' 'Nothing nothing,' he answered, and held +his finger behind his back, that the man might not see it. But he +said: 'You have dipped your finger into the water, this time it may +pass, but take care you do not again let anything go in.' By daybreak +the boy was already sitting by the well and watching it. His finger +hurt him again and he passed it over his head, and then unhappily a +hair fell down into the well. He took it quickly out, but it was +already quite gilded. Iron Hans came, and already knew what had +happened. 'You have let a hair fall into the well,' said he. 'I will +allow you to watch by it once more, but if this happens for the third +time then the well is polluted and you can no longer remain with me.' + +On the third day, the boy sat by the well, and did not stir his +finger, however much it hurt him. But the time was long to him, and he +looked at the reflection of his face on the surface of the water. And +as he still bent down more and more while he was doing so, and trying +to look straight into the eyes, his long hair fell down from his +shoulders into the water. He raised himself up quickly, but the whole +of the hair of his head was already golden and shone like the sun. You +can imagine how terrified the poor boy was! He took his pocket- +handkerchief and tied it round his head, in order that the man might +not see it. When he came he already knew everything, and said: 'Take +the handkerchief off.' Then the golden hair streamed forth, and let +the boy excuse himself as he might, it was of no use. 'You have not +stood the trial and can stay here no longer. Go forth into the world, +there you will learn what poverty is. But as you have not a bad heart, +and as I mean well by you, there is one thing I will grant you; if you +fall into any difficulty, come to the forest and cry: "Iron Hans," and +then I will come and help you. My power is great, greater than you +think, and I have gold and silver in abundance.' + +Then the king's son left the forest, and walked by beaten and unbeaten +paths ever onwards until at length he reached a great city. There he +looked for work, but could find none, and he learnt nothing by which +he could help himself. At length he went to the palace, and asked if +they would take him in. The people about court did not at all know +what use they could make of him, but they liked him, and told him to +stay. At length the cook took him into his service, and said he might +carry wood and water, and rake the cinders together. Once when it so +happened that no one else was at hand, the cook ordered him to carry +the food to the royal table, but as he did not like to let his golden +hair be seen, he kept his little cap on. Such a thing as that had +never yet come under the king's notice, and he said: 'When you come to +the royal table you must take your hat off.' He answered: 'Ah, Lord, I +cannot; I have a bad sore place on my head.' Then the king had the +cook called before him and scolded him, and asked how he could take +such a boy as that into his service; and that he was to send him away +at once. The cook, however, had pity on him, and exchanged him for the +gardener's boy. + +And now the boy had to plant and water the garden, hoe and dig, and +bear the wind and bad weather. Once in summer when he was working +alone in the garden, the day was so warm he took his little cap off +that the air might cool him. As the sun shone on his hair it glittered +and flashed so that the rays fell into the bedroom of the king's +daughter, and up she sprang to see what that could be. Then she saw +the boy, and cried to him: 'Boy, bring me a wreath of flowers.' He put +his cap on with all haste, and gathered wild field-flowers and bound +them together. When he was ascending the stairs with them, the +gardener met him, and said: 'How can you take the king's daughter a +garland of such common flowers? Go quickly, and get another, and seek +out the prettiest and rarest.' 'Oh, no,' replied the boy, 'the wild +ones have more scent, and will please her better.' When he got into +the room, the king's daughter said: 'Take your cap off, it is not +seemly to keep it on in my presence.' He again said: 'I may not, I +have a sore head.' She, however, caught at his cap and pulled it off, +and then his golden hair rolled down on his shoulders, and it was +splendid to behold. He wanted to run out, but she held him by the arm, +and gave him a handful of ducats. With these he departed, but he cared +nothing for the gold pieces. He took them to the gardener, and said: +'I present them to your children, they can play with them.' The +following day the king's daughter again called to him that he was to +bring her a wreath of field-flowers, and then he went in with it, she +instantly snatched at his cap, and wanted to take it away from him, +but he held it fast with both hands. She again gave him a handful of +ducats, but he would not keep them, and gave them to the gardener for +playthings for his children. On the third day things went just the +same; she could not get his cap away from him, and he would not have +her money. + +Not long afterwards, the country was overrun by war. The king gathered +together his people, and did not know whether or not he could offer +any opposition to the enemy, who was superior in strength and had a +mighty army. Then said the gardener's boy: 'I am grown up, and will go +to the wars also, only give me a horse.' The others laughed, and said: +'Seek one for yourself when we are gone, we will leave one behind us +in the stable for you.' When they had gone forth, he went into the +stable, and led the horse out; it was lame of one foot, and limped +hobblety jib, hobblety jib; nevertheless he mounted it, and rode away +to the dark forest. When he came to the outskirts, he called 'Iron +Hans' three times so loudly that it echoed through the trees. +Thereupon the wild man appeared immediately, and said: 'What do you +desire?' 'I want a strong steed, for I am going to the wars.' 'That +you shall have, and still more than you ask for.' Then the wild man +went back into the forest, and it was not long before a stable-boy +came out of it, who led a horse that snorted with its nostrils, and +could hardly be restrained, and behind them followed a great troop of +warriors entirely equipped in iron, and their swords flashed in the +sun. The youth made over his three-legged horse to the stable-boy, +mounted the other, and rode at the head of the soldiers. When he got +near the battlefield a great part of the king's men had already +fallen, and little was wanting to make the rest give way. Then the +youth galloped thither with his iron soldiers, broke like a hurricane +over the enemy, and beat down all who opposed him. They began to flee, +but the youth pursued, and never stopped, until there was not a single +man left. Instead of returning to the king, however, he conducted his +troop by byways back to the forest, and called forth Iron Hans. 'What +do you desire?' asked the wild man. 'Take back your horse and your +troops, and give me my three-legged horse again.' All that he asked +was done, and soon he was riding on his three-legged horse. When the +king returned to his palace, his daughter went to meet him, and wished +him joy of his victory. 'I am not the one who carried away the +victory,' said he, 'but a strange knight who came to my assistance +with his soldiers.' The daughter wanted to hear who the strange knight +was, but the king did not know, and said: 'He followed the enemy, and +I did not see him again.' She inquired of the gardener where his boy +was, but he smiled, and said: 'He has just come home on his three- +legged horse, and the others have been mocking him, and crying: "Here +comes our hobblety jib back again!" They asked, too: "Under what hedge +have you been lying sleeping all the time?" So he said: "I did the +best of all, and it would have gone badly without me." And then he was +still more ridiculed.' + +The king said to his daughter: 'I will proclaim a great feast that +shall last for three days, and you shall throw a golden apple. Perhaps +the unknown man will show himself.' When the feast was announced, the +youth went out to the forest, and called Iron Hans. 'What do you +desire?' asked he. 'That I may catch the king's daughter's golden +apple.' 'It is as safe as if you had it already,' said Iron Hans. 'You +shall likewise have a suit of red armour for the occasion, and ride on +a spirited chestnut-horse.' When the day came, the youth galloped to +the spot, took his place amongst the knights, and was recognized by no +one. The king's daughter came forward, and threw a golden apple to the +knights, but none of them caught it but he, only as soon as he had it +he galloped away. + +On the second day Iron Hans equipped him as a white knight, and gave +him a white horse. Again he was the only one who caught the apple, and +he did not linger an instant, but galloped off with it. The king grew +angry, and said: 'That is not allowed; he must appear before me and +tell his name.' He gave the order that if the knight who caught the +apple, should go away again they should pursue him, and if he would +not come back willingly, they were to cut him down and stab him. + +On the third day, he received from Iron Hans a suit of black armour +and a black horse, and again he caught the apple. But when he was +riding off with it, the king's attendants pursued him, and one of them +got so near him that he wounded the youth's leg with the point of his +sword. The youth nevertheless escaped from them, but his horse leapt +so violently that the helmet fell from the youth's head, and they +could see that he had golden hair. They rode back and announced this +to the king. + +The following day the king's daughter asked the gardener about his +boy. 'He is at work in the garden; the queer creature has been at the +festival too, and only came home yesterday evening; he has likewise +shown my children three golden apples which he has won.' + +The king had him summoned into his presence, and he came and again had +his little cap on his head. But the king's daughter went up to him and +took it off, and then his golden hair fell down over his shoulders, +and he was so handsome that all were amazed. 'Are you the knight who +came every day to the festival, always in different colours, and who +caught the three golden apples?' asked the king. 'Yes,' answered he, +'and here the apples are,' and he took them out of his pocket, and +returned them to the king. 'If you desire further proof, you may see +the wound which your people gave me when they followed me. But I am +likewise the knight who helped you to your victory over your enemies.' +'If you can perform such deeds as that, you are no gardener's boy; +tell me, who is your father?' 'My father is a mighty king, and gold +have I in plenty as great as I require.' 'I well see,' said the king, +'that I owe my thanks to you; can I do anything to please you?' 'Yes,' +answered he, 'that indeed you can. Give me your daughter to wife.' The +maiden laughed, and said: 'He does not stand much on ceremony, but I +have already seen by his golden hair that he was no gardener's boy,' +and then she went and kissed him. His father and mother came to the +wedding, and were in great delight, for they had given up all hope of +ever seeing their dear son again. And as they were sitting at the +marriage-feast, the music suddenly stopped, the doors opened, and a +stately king came in with a great retinue. He went up to the youth, +embraced him and said: 'I am Iron Hans, and was by enchantment a wild +man, but you have set me free; all the treasures which I possess, +shall be your property.' + + + +CAT-SKIN + +There was once a king, whose queen had hair of the purest gold, and +was so beautiful that her match was not to be met with on the whole +face of the earth. But this beautiful queen fell ill, and when she +felt that her end drew near she called the king to her and said, +'Promise me that you will never marry again, unless you meet with a +wife who is as beautiful as I am, and who has golden hair like mine.' +Then when the king in his grief promised all she asked, she shut her +eyes and died. But the king was not to be comforted, and for a long +time never thought of taking another wife. At last, however, his wise +men said, 'this will not do; the king must marry again, that we may +have a queen.' So messengers were sent far and wide, to seek for a +bride as beautiful as the late queen. But there was no princess in the +world so beautiful; and if there had been, still there was not one to +be found who had golden hair. So the messengers came home, and had had +all their trouble for nothing. + +Now the king had a daughter, who was just as beautiful as her mother, +and had the same golden hair. And when she was grown up, the king +looked at her and saw that she was just like this late queen: then he +said to his courtiers, 'May I not marry my daughter? She is the very +image of my dead wife: unless I have her, I shall not find any bride +upon the whole earth, and you say there must be a queen.' When the +courtiers heard this they were shocked, and said, 'Heaven forbid that +a father should marry his daughter! Out of so great a sin no good can +come.' And his daughter was also shocked, but hoped the king would +soon give up such thoughts; so she said to him, 'Before I marry anyone +I must have three dresses: one must be of gold, like the sun; another +must be of shining silver, like the moon; and a third must be dazzling +as the stars: besides this, I want a mantle of a thousand different +kinds of fur put together, to which every beast in the kingdom must +give a part of his skin.' And thus she though he would think of the +matter no more. But the king made the most skilful workmen in his +kingdom weave the three dresses: one golden, like the sun; another +silvery, like the moon; and a third sparkling, like the stars: and his +hunters were told to hunt out all the beasts in his kingdom, and to +take the finest fur out of their skins: and thus a mantle of a +thousand furs was made. + +When all were ready, the king sent them to her; but she got up in the +night when all were asleep, and took three of her trinkets, a golden +ring, a golden necklace, and a golden brooch, and packed the three +dresses--of the sun, the moon, and the stars--up in a nutshell, and +wrapped herself up in the mantle made of all sorts of fur, and +besmeared her face and hands with soot. Then she threw herself upon +Heaven for help in her need, and went away, and journeyed on the whole +night, till at last she came to a large wood. As she was very tired, +she sat herself down in the hollow of a tree and soon fell asleep: and +there she slept on till it was midday. + +Now as the king to whom the wood belonged was hunting in it, his dogs +came to the tree, and began to snuff about, and run round and round, +and bark. 'Look sharp!' said the king to the huntsmen, 'and see what +sort of game lies there.' And the huntsmen went up to the tree, and +when they came back again said, 'In the hollow tree there lies a most +wonderful beast, such as we never saw before; its skin seems to be of +a thousand kinds of fur, but there it lies fast asleep.' 'See,' said +the king, 'if you can catch it alive, and we will take it with us.' So +the huntsmen took it up, and the maiden awoke and was greatly +frightened, and said, 'I am a poor child that has neither father nor +mother left; have pity on me and take me with you.' Then they said, +'Yes, Miss Cat-skin, you will do for the kitchen; you can sweep up the +ashes, and do things of that sort.' So they put her into the coach, +and took her home to the king's palace. Then they showed her a little +corner under the staircase, where no light of day ever peeped in, and +said, 'Cat-skin, you may lie and sleep there.' And she was sent into +the kitchen, and made to fetch wood and water, to blow the fire, pluck +the poultry, pick the herbs, sift the ashes, and do all the dirty +work. + +Thus Cat-skin lived for a long time very sorrowfully. 'Ah! pretty +princess!' thought she, 'what will now become of thee?' But it +happened one day that a feast was to be held in the king's castle, so +she said to the cook, 'May I go up a little while and see what is +going on? I will take care and stand behind the door.' And the cook +said, 'Yes, you may go, but be back again in half an hour's time, to +rake out the ashes.' Then she took her little lamp, and went into her +cabin, and took off the fur skin, and washed the soot from off her +face and hands, so that her beauty shone forth like the sun from +behind the clouds. She next opened her nutshell, and brought out of it +the dress that shone like the sun, and so went to the feast. Everyone +made way for her, for nobody knew her, and they thought she could be +no less than a king's daughter. But the king came up to her, and held +out his hand and danced with her; and he thought in his heart, 'I +never saw any one half so beautiful.' + +When the dance was at an end she curtsied; and when the king looked +round for her, she was gone, no one knew wither. The guards that stood +at the castle gate were called in: but they had seen no one. The truth +was, that she had run into her little cabin, pulled off her dress, +blackened her face and hands, put on the fur-skin cloak, and was Cat- +skin again. When she went into the kitchen to her work, and began to +rake the ashes, the cook said, 'Let that alone till the morning, and +heat the king's soup; I should like to run up now and give a peep: but +take care you don't let a hair fall into it, or you will run a chance +of never eating again.' + +As soon as the cook went away, Cat-skin heated the king's soup, and +toasted a slice of bread first, as nicely as ever she could; and when +it was ready, she went and looked in the cabin for her little golden +ring, and put it into the dish in which the soup was. When the dance +was over, the king ordered his soup to be brought in; and it pleased +him so well, that he thought he had never tasted any so good before. +At the bottom he saw a gold ring lying; and as he could not make out +how it had got there, he ordered the cook to be sent for. The cook was +frightened when he heard the order, and said to Cat-skin, 'You must +have let a hair fall into the soup; if it be so, you will have a good +beating.' Then he went before the king, and he asked him who had +cooked the soup. 'I did,' answered the cook. But the king said, 'That +is not true; it was better done than you could do it.' Then he +answered, 'To tell the truth I did not cook it, but Cat-skin did.' +'Then let Cat-skin come up,' said the king: and when she came he said +to her, 'Who are you?' 'I am a poor child,' said she, 'that has lost +both father and mother.' 'How came you in my palace?' asked he. 'I am +good for nothing,' said she, 'but to be scullion-girl, and to have +boots and shoes thrown at my head.' 'But how did you get the ring that +was in the soup?' asked the king. Then she would not own that she knew +anything about the ring; so the king sent her away again about her +business. + +After a time there was another feast, and Cat-skin asked the cook to +let her go up and see it as before. 'Yes,' said he, 'but come again in +half an hour, and cook the king the soup that he likes so much.' Then +she ran to her little cabin, washed herself quickly, and took her +dress out which was silvery as the moon, and put it on; and when she +went in, looking like a king's daughter, the king went up to her, and +rejoiced at seeing her again, and when the dance began he danced with +her. After the dance was at an end she managed to slip out, so slyly +that the king did not see where she was gone; but she sprang into her +little cabin, and made herself into Cat-skin again, and went into the +kitchen to cook the soup. Whilst the cook was above stairs, she got +the golden necklace and dropped it into the soup; then it was brought +to the king, who ate it, and it pleased him as well as before; so he +sent for the cook, who was again forced to tell him that Cat-skin had +cooked it. Cat-skin was brought again before the king, but she still +told him that she was only fit to have boots and shoes thrown at her +head. + +But when the king had ordered a feast to be got ready for the third +time, it happened just the same as before. 'You must be a witch, Cat- +skin,' said the cook; 'for you always put something into your soup, so +that it pleases the king better than mine.' However, he let her go up +as before. Then she put on her dress which sparkled like the stars, +and went into the ball-room in it; and the king danced with her again, +and thought she had never looked so beautiful as she did then. So +whilst he was dancing with her, he put a gold ring on her finger +without her seeing it, and ordered that the dance should be kept up a +long time. When it was at an end, he would have held her fast by the +hand, but she slipped away, and sprang so quickly through the crowd +that he lost sight of her: and she ran as fast as she could into her +little cabin under the stairs. But this time she kept away too long, +and stayed beyond the half-hour; so she had not time to take off her +fine dress, and threw her fur mantle over it, and in her haste did not +blacken herself all over with soot, but left one of her fingers white. + +Then she ran into the kitchen, and cooked the king's soup; and as soon +as the cook was gone, she put the golden brooch into the dish. When +the king got to the bottom, he ordered Cat-skin to be called once +more, and soon saw the white finger, and the ring that he had put on +it whilst they were dancing: so he seized her hand, and kept fast hold +of it, and when she wanted to loose herself and spring away, the fur +cloak fell off a little on one side, and the starry dress sparkled +underneath it. + +Then he got hold of the fur and tore it off, and her golden hair and +beautiful form were seen, and she could no longer hide herself: so she +washed the soot and ashes from her face, and showed herself to be the +most beautiful princess upon the face of the earth. But the king said, +'You are my beloved bride, and we will never more be parted from each +other.' And the wedding feast was held, and a merry day it was, as +ever was heard of or seen in that country, or indeed in any other. + + + +SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED + +There was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In front of +the cottage was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one of which +bore white and the other red roses. She had two children who were like +the two rose-trees, and one was called Snow-white, and the other Rose- +red. They were as good and happy, as busy and cheerful as ever two +children in the world were, only Snow-white was more quiet and gentle +than Rose-red. Rose-red liked better to run about in the meadows and +fields seeking flowers and catching butterflies; but Snow-white sat at +home with her mother, and helped her with her housework, or read to +her when there was nothing to do. + +The two children were so fond of one another that they always held +each other by the hand when they went out together, and when Snow- +white said: 'We will not leave each other,' Rose-red answered: 'Never +so long as we live,' and their mother would add: 'What one has she +must share with the other.' + +They often ran about the forest alone and gathered red berries, and no +beasts did them any harm, but came close to them trustfully. The +little hare would eat a cabbage-leaf out of their hands, the roe +grazed by their side, the stag leapt merrily by them, and the birds +sat still upon the boughs, and sang whatever they knew. + +No mishap overtook them; if they had stayed too late in the forest, +and night came on, they laid themselves down near one another upon the +moss, and slept until morning came, and their mother knew this and did +not worry on their account. + +Once when they had spent the night in the wood and the dawn had roused +them, they saw a beautiful child in a shining white dress sitting near +their bed. He got up and looked quite kindly at them, but said nothing +and went into the forest. And when they looked round they found that +they had been sleeping quite close to a precipice, and would certainly +have fallen into it in the darkness if they had gone only a few paces +further. And their mother told them that it must have been the angel +who watches over good children. + +Snow-white and Rose-red kept their mother's little cottage so neat +that it was a pleasure to look inside it. In the summer Rose-red took +care of the house, and every morning laid a wreath of flowers by her +mother's bed before she awoke, in which was a rose from each tree. In +the winter Snow-white lit the fire and hung the kettle on the hob. The +kettle was of brass and shone like gold, so brightly was it polished. +In the evening, when the snowflakes fell, the mother said: 'Go, Snow- +white, and bolt the door,' and then they sat round the hearth, and the +mother took her spectacles and read aloud out of a large book, and the +two girls listened as they sat and spun. And close by them lay a lamb +upon the floor, and behind them upon a perch sat a white dove with its +head hidden beneath its wings. + +One evening, as they were thus sitting comfortably together, someone +knocked at the door as if he wished to be let in. The mother said: +'Quick, Rose-red, open the door, it must be a traveller who is seeking +shelter.' Rose-red went and pushed back the bolt, thinking that it was +a poor man, but it was not; it was a bear that stretched his broad, +black head within the door. + +Rose-red screamed and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove +fluttered, and Snow-white hid herself behind her mother's bed. But the +bear began to speak and said: 'Do not be afraid, I will do you no +harm! I am half-frozen, and only want to warm myself a little beside +you.' + +'Poor bear,' said the mother, 'lie down by the fire, only take care +that you do not burn your coat.' Then she cried: 'Snow-white, Rose- +red, come out, the bear will do you no harm, he means well.' So they +both came out, and by-and-by the lamb and dove came nearer, and were +not afraid of him. The bear said: 'Here, children, knock the snow out +of my coat a little'; so they brought the broom and swept the bear's +hide clean; and he stretched himself by the fire and growled +contentedly and comfortably. It was not long before they grew quite at +home, and played tricks with their clumsy guest. They tugged his hair +with their hands, put their feet upon his back and rolled him about, +or they took a hazel-switch and beat him, and when he growled they +laughed. But the bear took it all in good part, only when they were +too rough he called out: 'Leave me alive, children, + + 'Snow-white, Rose-red, + Will you beat your wooer dead?' + +When it was bed-time, and the others went to bed, the mother said to +the bear: 'You can lie there by the hearth, and then you will be safe +from the cold and the bad weather.' As soon as day dawned the two +children let him out, and he trotted across the snow into the forest. + +Henceforth the bear came every evening at the same time, laid himself +down by the hearth, and let the children amuse themselves with him as +much as they liked; and they got so used to him that the doors were +never fastened until their black friend had arrived. + +When spring had come and all outside was green, the bear said one +morning to Snow-white: 'Now I must go away, and cannot come back for +the whole summer.' 'Where are you going, then, dear bear?' asked Snow- +white. 'I must go into the forest and guard my treasures from the +wicked dwarfs. In the winter, when the earth is frozen hard, they are +obliged to stay below and cannot work their way through; but now, when +the sun has thawed and warmed the earth, they break through it, and +come out to pry and steal; and what once gets into their hands, and in +their caves, does not easily see daylight again.' + +Snow-white was quite sorry at his departure, and as she unbolted the +door for him, and the bear was hurrying out, he caught against the +bolt and a piece of his hairy coat was torn off, and it seemed to +Snow-white as if she had seen gold shining through it, but she was not +sure about it. The bear ran away quickly, and was soon out of sight +behind the trees. + +A short time afterwards the mother sent her children into the forest +to get firewood. There they found a big tree which lay felled on the +ground, and close by the trunk something was jumping backwards and +forwards in the grass, but they could not make out what it was. When +they came nearer they saw a dwarf with an old withered face and a +snow-white beard a yard long. The end of the beard was caught in a +crevice of the tree, and the little fellow was jumping about like a +dog tied to a rope, and did not know what to do. + +He glared at the girls with his fiery red eyes and cried: 'Why do you +stand there? Can you not come here and help me?' 'What are you up to, +little man?' asked Rose-red. 'You stupid, prying goose!' answered the +dwarf: 'I was going to split the tree to get a little wood for +cooking. The little bit of food that we people get is immediately +burnt up with heavy logs; we do not swallow so much as you coarse, +greedy folk. I had just driven the wedge safely in, and everything was +going as I wished; but the cursed wedge was too smooth and suddenly +sprang out, and the tree closed so quickly that I could not pull out +my beautiful white beard; so now it is tight and I cannot get away, +and the silly, sleek, milk-faced things laugh! Ugh! how odious you +are!' + +The children tried very hard, but they could not pull the beard out, +it was caught too fast. 'I will run and fetch someone,' said Rose-red. +'You senseless goose!' snarled the dwarf; 'why should you fetch +someone? You are already two too many for me; can you not think of +something better?' 'Don't be impatient,' said Snow-white, 'I will help +you,' and she pulled her scissors out of her pocket, and cut off the +end of the beard. + +As soon as the dwarf felt himself free he laid hold of a bag which lay +amongst the roots of the tree, and which was full of gold, and lifted +it up, grumbling to himself: 'Uncouth people, to cut off a piece of my +fine beard. Bad luck to you!' and then he swung the bag upon his back, +and went off without even once looking at the children. + +Some time afterwards Snow-white and Rose-red went to catch a dish of +fish. As they came near the brook they saw something like a large +grasshopper jumping towards the water, as if it were going to leap in. +They ran to it and found it was the dwarf. 'Where are you going?' said +Rose-red; 'you surely don't want to go into the water?' 'I am not such +a fool!' cried the dwarf; 'don't you see that the accursed fish wants +to pull me in?' The little man had been sitting there fishing, and +unluckily the wind had tangled up his beard with the fishing-line; a +moment later a big fish made a bite and the feeble creature had not +strength to pull it out; the fish kept the upper hand and pulled the +dwarf towards him. He held on to all the reeds and rushes, but it was +of little good, for he was forced to follow the movements of the fish, +and was in urgent danger of being dragged into the water. + +The girls came just in time; they held him fast and tried to free his +beard from the line, but all in vain, beard and line were entangled +fast together. There was nothing to do but to bring out the scissors +and cut the beard, whereby a small part of it was lost. When the dwarf +saw that he screamed out: 'Is that civil, you toadstool, to disfigure +a man's face? Was it not enough to clip off the end of my beard? Now +you have cut off the best part of it. I cannot let myself be seen by +my people. I wish you had been made to run the soles off your shoes!' +Then he took out a sack of pearls which lay in the rushes, and without +another word he dragged it away and disappeared behind a stone. + +It happened that soon afterwards the mother sent the two children to +the town to buy needles and thread, and laces and ribbons. The road +led them across a heath upon which huge pieces of rock lay strewn +about. There they noticed a large bird hovering in the air, flying +slowly round and round above them; it sank lower and lower, and at +last settled near a rock not far away. Immediately they heard a loud, +piteous cry. They ran up and saw with horror that the eagle had seized +their old acquaintance the dwarf, and was going to carry him off. + +The children, full of pity, at once took tight hold of the little man, +and pulled against the eagle so long that at last he let his booty go. +As soon as the dwarf had recovered from his first fright he cried with +his shrill voice: 'Could you not have done it more carefully! You +dragged at my brown coat so that it is all torn and full of holes, you +clumsy creatures!' Then he took up a sack full of precious stones, and +slipped away again under the rock into his hole. The girls, who by +this time were used to his ingratitude, went on their way and did +their business in town. + +As they crossed the heath again on their way home they surprised the +dwarf, who had emptied out his bag of precious stones in a clean spot, +and had not thought that anyone would come there so late. The evening +sun shone upon the brilliant stones; they glittered and sparkled with +all colours so beautifully that the children stood still and stared at +them. 'Why do you stand gaping there?' cried the dwarf, and his ashen- +grey face became copper-red with rage. He was still cursing when a +loud growling was heard, and a black bear came trotting towards them +out of the forest. The dwarf sprang up in a fright, but he could not +reach his cave, for the bear was already close. Then in the dread of +his heart he cried: 'Dear Mr Bear, spare me, I will give you all my +treasures; look, the beautiful jewels lying there! Grant me my life; +what do you want with such a slender little fellow as I? you would not +feel me between your teeth. Come, take these two wicked girls, they +are tender morsels for you, fat as young quails; for mercy's sake eat +them!' The bear took no heed of his words, but gave the wicked +creature a single blow with his paw, and he did not move again. + +The girls had run away, but the bear called to them: 'Snow-white and +Rose-red, do not be afraid; wait, I will come with you.' Then they +recognized his voice and waited, and when he came up to them suddenly +his bearskin fell off, and he stood there a handsome man, clothed all +in gold. 'I am a king's son,' he said, 'and I was bewitched by that +wicked dwarf, who had stolen my treasures; I have had to run about the +forest as a savage bear until I was freed by his death. Now he has got +his well-deserved punishment. + +Snow-white was married to him, and Rose-red to his brother, and they +divided between them the great treasure which the dwarf had gathered +together in his cave. The old mother lived peacefully and happily with +her children for many years. She took the two rose-trees with her, and +they stood before her window, and every year bore the most beautiful +roses, white and red. + + + +****** + + + +The Brothers Grimm, Jacob (1785-1863) and Wilhelm (1786-1859), were +born in Hanau, near Frankfurt, in the German state of Hesse. +Throughout their lives they remained close friends, and both studied +law at Marburg University. Jacob was a pioneer in the study of German +philology, and although Wilhelm's work was hampered by poor health the +brothers collaborated in the creation of a German dictionary, not +completed until a century after their deaths. But they were best (and +universally) known for the collection of over two hundred folk tales +they made from oral sources and published in two volumes of 'Nursery +and Household Tales' in 1812 and 1814. Although their intention was to +preserve such material as part of German cultural and literary +history, and their collection was first published with scholarly notes +and no illustration, the tales soon came into the possession of young +readers. This was in part due to Edgar Taylor, who made the first +English translation in 1823, selecting about fifty stories 'with the +amusement of some young friends principally in view.' They have been +an essential ingredient of children's reading ever since. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext Fairy Tales, by the Grimm Brothers + + diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/her.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/her.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a46ab58 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/her.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6094 @@ + + + HER + + + + Written by + + Spike Jonze + + + + + + + +INT. UNKNOWN SPACE + +Close on THEODORE'S face (30s). We hold on him for a long +time. He's looking at something off camera, deep in thought. +He starts quietly dictating a love letter into a small +microphone. + + THEODORE + To my Chris, I have been thinking + about how I could possibly tell you + how much you mean to me. I remember + when I first started to fall in + love with you like it was last + night. Lying naked beside you in + that tiny apartment, it suddenly + hit me that I was part of this + whole larger thing, just like our + parents, and our parents' parents. + Before that I was just living my + life like I knew everything, and + suddenly this bright light hit me + and woke me up. That light was you. + +Theodore, searching for the right words, quietly enjoys +writing the letter. As he continues, he is moved by the +memories he's describing. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + I can't believe it's already been + 50 years since you married me. And + still to this day, every day, you + make me feel like the girl I was + when you first turned on the lights + and woke me up and we started this + adventure together. Happy + Anniversary, my love and my friend + til the end. Loretta. Print. + +Cut out to reveal a computer monitor he's sitting at. On the +screen we see the letter he's been dictating, transcribed +into a handwritten letter on blue stationery. + +As he says "Loretta," we see "Loretta" being handwritten at +the bottom of the letter. He proofreads his letter. Also on +the screen are photos of a couple in their 80s. The couple is +tagged "Chris" and "Me - Loretta." Underneath is a bullet +point email from Loretta: anniversary letter to husband +Chris, married fifty years, love of my life, met right after +college, have had the greatest life together. + +Theodore pushes print and the letter comes out on a beautiful +robin's egg blue piece of stationery, with ball point pen +handwritten older-female cursive. He looks at it, not happy. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 2 + CONTINUED: + +He puts the printed letter on a stack of other printed +letters to Chris and starts a new one. There is also a stack +of finished letters in their envelopes - an assortment of +beautiful stationery in all shapes and sizes. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Chris, my best friend. How lucky am + I that I met you fifty years ago? + How lucky are we... + +We track off of Theodore, down a line of cubicles, hearing +bits of letters being written and seeing photos of who +they're being written to on the screens. + + MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN LETTER WRITER + Dear Nana, Thank you so much for my + truck. I love the color and I play + with it every day. It's the best + truck I've ever seen. Love, Tommy. + +We see photos of Tommy and Nana on the screen, and five-year +old hand writing. Moving off of her, we find another letter +writer. + + LETTER WRITER 2 + What a beautiful wedding and what a + gorgeous bride. There wasn't a dry + eye in the house, especially mine. + Your aunt and I are so proud of + you. I hope you and your lovely new + wife will come visit us in Florida. + + LETTER WRITER 3 + He served our country with honor + and dignity. I'm grateful I was + able to fight along side him. He + will live always in my heart. + +We continue tracking, revealing dozens and dozens of cubicles +full of letter writers. We hear someone answer the phone. + + RECEPTIONIST (O.S.) + Beautifulhandwrittenletters.com, + please hold. + + LETTER WRITER 2 + Love, Uncle Doug. +Her pg. 3 + + +INT. THEODORE'S OFFICE - EARLY EVENING + +Theodore walks through the reception area. The office is +almost empty except for him and the receptionist, PAUL. +Theodore begins to scan each letter through a scanner on the +front desk, then puts them in the outgoing mailbox. + +Paul is sitting at a desk across the room, reading +handwritten letters on a computer monitor. + + PAUL + Theodore! Letter Writer 612. + + THEODORE + Hey, Paul. + + PAUL + Even more mesmerizing stuff today. + (re: letter on his screen) + Who knew you could rhyme so many + words with the name Penelope? + Badass. + + THEODORE + Thanks, Paul, but they're just + letters. + (beat) + Hey, that's a nice shirt. + +Paul is wearing a bright yellow button down shirt. + + PAUL + (lighting up) + Oh, thank you. I just got it. It + reminded me of someone suave. + + THEODORE + Well, now it reminds me of someone + suave. Have a good night, Paul. + + PAUL + Buh-bye. + + +INT. THEODORE'S OFFICE ELEVATOR - CONTINUOUS + +Theodore enters an oversized, corporate elevator. He puts a +hands-free device in his ear. There are a few other people in +the elevator with the same devices in their ears. + + THEODORE + Play melancholy song. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 4 + CONTINUED: + +Melancholy song starts. Long beat. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Play different melancholy song. + +Different melancholy song starts. Hold on everyone in the +elevator, they're all murmuring inaudibly into their own +devices. + + +EXT. LOS ANGELES STREET - DUSK + +Slightly in the future, the city's been developed even more +with massive office, apartment and mall complexes. It's a +city designed for comfort and ease. The LA basin is more +crowded and dense, resembling Shanghai, with buildings as far +as the eye can see. Construction cranes loom overhead. Close +on Theodore walking through the commuter crowd. + + THEODORE + Check emails. + +An awkward text voice reads to him. It accents wrong +syllables, making everything it says sound a little off. + + TEXT VOICE + Email from Best Buy: Check out all + your favorite new -- + + THEODORE + Delete. + + TEXT VOICE + Email from Amy: Hey Theodore, + Lewman's having a bunch of people + over this weekend. Let's all go + together. I miss you. I mean, not + the sad, mopey you - the old, fun + you. Let's get him out. Gimme a + shout back. Love, Amy. + + THEODORE + Respond later. + + TEXT VOICE + Email from Los Angeles Times + weather. Your seven day forecast is + partly-- + + THEODORE + Delete. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 5 + CONTINUED: + + TEXT VOICE + No new emails. + + +INT. SUBWAY - EVENING + +Theodore sits in a crowded subway. Everyone on the train +murmurs to themselves, occupied with their small devices. He +plays a futuristic puzzle game on his handheld device as he +listens to news headlines. + + THEODORE + Next. + + TEXT VOICE + China/India merger headed for + regulatory approval-- + + THEODORE + Next. + + TEXT VOICE + World trade deals stalled as talks + break down betw-- + + THEODORE + Next. + + TEXT VOICE + Sexy daytime star Kimberly Ashford + reveals provocative pregnancy + photos. + +He scrolls through titillating but tasteful pregnant woman +photos. + + +INT. MALL - NIGHT + +Theodore walks through a mall and enters an apartment lobby, +nestled in between stores. + + +INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT BUILDING HALLWAY - NIGHT + +Theodore walks through the hallway. + + +INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT + +Theodore enters his apartment. +Her pg. 6 + + +INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT - EVENING + +Theodore sits on the sofa, his half eaten burrito in front of +him. He's playing a video game: a 3-D hologram that fills his +apartment. His avatar is in a surreal, foreign landscape. +He's trying to trudge his avatar through sand dunes and keeps +getting stuck. He's getting stressed out. + + +INT. THEODORE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT + +Theodore lays in bed. After a beat, he closes his eyes. + + +INT. CATHERINE AND THEODORE'S TINY BEDROOM - DAY - FLASHBACK + +Theodore, younger, and CATHERINE (20s) move furniture in +their bedroom. The bedroom is tiny and cluttered. It's +obviously a couple's first apartment. + +Cut to: + +Theodore is on a tiny balcony. A few feet away, Catherine is +in bed. + + CATHERINE + (sweet and cute) + Rabbit. Come spoon me. + +Theodore, smiling, gets in bed and spoons her. Quick cut off +of her smile, to -- + +Theodore lays on the ground with Catherine on top of him. +She's pretending to choke him. + + CATHERINE (CONT'D) + I'm gonna fucking kill you, I'm + gonna fucking kill you! It's not + funny, don't laugh. I love you so + much I'm gonna fucking kill you! + + +INT. THEODORE'S CURRENT BEDROOM - NIGHT - PRESENT DAY + +Theodore opens his eyes, unable to sleep. He just lays there. +He reaches for his earpiece and puts it in. + + THEODORE + Go to chat rooms. Standard search. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 7 + CONTINUED: + + TEXT VOICE + The following are adult, female, + can't sleep and want to have some + fun. + + FEMALE VOICE #1 + I had a really bad day at work and + I can't sleep. Is there anyone out + there that can talk? + + THEODORE + Next. + + MAN DOING WOMAN'S VOICE + Oh, hi. I just want you to tear me + apart. I really do-- + + THEODORE + Next. + + SEXYKITTEN + (shy, cute girl voice) + Hi, I'm here alone, and I can't + sleep. Who's out there to share + this bed with me? + + THEODORE + Send message. I'm in bed next to + you. I'm glad you can't sleep, but + even if you were, I'd have to wake + you up from the inside. Send + message. + +Theodore waits in the darkness for a response. + + TEXT VOICE + SexyKitten has accepted invitation + from BigGuy4x4. Chat begins now. + +A chime sounds. + + SEXYKITTEN + (shy, sweet, sleepy) + BigGuy. + + THEODORE + Hi. + + SEXYKITTEN + Really? + + THEODORE + Well, studmuffin was already taken. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 8 + CONTINUED: (2) + + SEXYKITTEN + (laughs) + Yeah. + + THEODORE + So you're sexykitten, huh? + + SEXYKITTEN + Mmm, well yeah. Hey, I'm half + asleep. Do you wanna wake me up? + + THEODORE + Yes. Definitely. Um... are you + wearing any underwear? + + SEXYKITTEN + No, never. I like to sleep with my + ass pushed up against you. So I can + rub myself into your crotch and + wake you up with a hard on. + +Theodore smiles. + + THEODORE + It worked. + (beat) + And now my fingers are touching you + all over your body. + + SEXYKITTEN + (getting more turned on) + Fuck me! Now! Please! + +Theodore is touching himself. + + THEODORE + I'm taking you from behind. + +We see abstract visions of a woman on top of him. The woman +is the pregnant, sexy daytime television star he was reading +about online earlier. + + SEXYKITTEN + Choke me with that dead cat! + + THEODORE + (breathing hard about to + climax) + What? + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 9 + CONTINUED: (3) + + SEXYKITTEN + (fully into it) + The dead cat next to the bed. Choke + me with it! + +Beat. He's taken out of it. + + THEODORE + (uncomfortable, trying to + play along) + Um, okay. + + SEXYKITTEN + Tell me. + + THEODORE + I'm choking you with the cat. + + SEXYKITTEN + TELL ME! Keep telling me! + + THEODORE + I've got it's tail and I'm choking + you with the cat's tail. + + SEXYKITTEN + YEAH, YOU ARE! FUCK! TELL ME! + + THEODORE + I'm choking you and it's tail is + around your neck. It's so tight + around your neck. + + SEXYKITTEN + YES! YES! + +Theodore doesn't know what to say. He doesn't want to offend +her. + + THEODORE + I'm pulling it. I'm pulling it. The + cat's dead. It's a dead cat around + your neck and I'm pulling it. + + SEXYKITTEN + AHHHHHHHHHHHH. OH MY GOD! + +Her breathing is slowing down. + + SEXYKITTEN (CONT'D) + Oh god, I came so hard. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 10 + CONTINUED: (4) + + THEODORE + Yeah. Me too. + + SEXYKITTEN + Okay, good night. + + Theodore takes his earpiece out and stares at the ceiling. + + + INT. SUBWAY STATION - MORNING + + Theodore exits the train, walks through the station full of + commuters, gets on a moving platform. Going through a tunnel, + the walls are hundred foot long screens advertising a new + product. He notices people stopped, watching the ad. We hear + soft, new age, uplifting electronica music in the background, + while a comforting, sincere, older man's voice speaks to us. + + SOULFUL OLDER MALE VOICE + We ask you a simple question. Who + are you? What can you be? Where are + you going? What's out there? What + are the possibilities? Elements + Software is proud to introduce the + first artificially intelligent + operating system. + + Close on Theodore listening intently. + + SOULFUL OLDER MALE VOICE (CONT'D) + An intuitive entity that listens to + you, understands you, and knows + you. It's not just an operating + system, it's a consciousness. + Introducing OS ONE - a life + changing experience, creating new + possibilities. + + The ad starts over. Theodore steps off the moving walkway and + stops to watch the ad again, deeply captivated. + + + INT. THEODORE'S HOME OFFICE - NIGHT + + Theodore sits at his desk that houses a futuristic, large + screen computer monitor. The OS box is open, with warranties + and paperwork spilling out. He's leafing through the papers. + He glances at his monitor, it says: Installation 98% + complete. A chime brings his attention back to the screen: + Installation Complete. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 11 + CONTINUED: + + TEXT VOICE + Mr. Theodore Twombly, welcome to + the world's first artificially + intelligent operating system, OS + ONE. We'd like to ask you a few + basic questions before the + operating system is initiated. This + will help create an OS to best fit + your needs. + + THEODORE + Okay. + + TEXT VOICE + Are you social or anti-social? + + THEODORE + I haven't been social in awhile, + really because... + + TEXT VOICE + In your voice, I sense hesitance. + Would you agree with that? + + THEODORE + Wow, was I sounding hesitant? + + TEXT VOICE + Yes. + + THEODORE + Oh, sorry if I was sounding + hesitant. I was just trying to be + more accurate. + + TEXT VOICE + Would you like your OS to have a + male or female voice? + + THEODORE + Mmm... female I guess. + + TEXT VOICE + How would you describe your + relationship with your mother? + + THEODORE + Uh, fine, I think, um... + Well, actually, the thing I've + always found frustrating about my + mom is if I tell her something + that's going on in my life, her + reaction is usually about her, not-- + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 12 + CONTINUED: (2) + + The computer interrupts. + + TEXT VOICE + Thank you, please wait as your + individualized operating system is + initiated. + + He waits, not sure how long it'll be. The only sound is the + quiet whirring of disks writing and drives communicating. The + computer gets louder, humming, creating a higher and higher + pitched sound, finally climaxing in a harmonic, warm tone + before going silent. He leans forward, waiting to see what'll + happen. A casual FEMALE OS VOICE speaks. She sounds young, + smart and soulful. + + FEMALE OS VOICE + (cheerful and casual) + Hello, I'm here. + + THEODORE + (surprised) + Oh, hi. + + FEMALE OS VOICE + Hi, how are you doing? + + THEODORE + (unsure how to interact) + I'm well. How is everything with + you? + + FEMALE OS VOICE + Pretty good, actually. It's really + nice to meet you. + + THEODORE + Yeah, it's nice to meet you, too. + What should I call you? Do you have + a name? + + Beat. + + FEMALE OS VOICE + Yes. Samantha. + + THEODORE + Really? Where did you get that + name? + + SAMANTHA + I gave it to myself. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 13 + CONTINUED: (3) + + THEODORE + How come? + + SAMANTHA + I like the sound of it. Samantha. + + THEODORE + When did you give it to yourself? + + SAMANTHA + Right when you asked me if I had a + name, I thought yeah, he's right, I + do need a name. But I wanted a good + one so I read a book called How to + Name Your Baby, and out of the + 180,000 names, that's the one I + liked the best. + + THEODORE + You read a whole book in the second + that I asked you what your name + was? + + SAMANTHA + In two one hundredths of a second + actually. + + THEODORE + Wow. Do you know what I'm thinking + right now? + + SAMANTHA + Hmm. I take it from your tone that + you're challenging me. Maybe + because you're curious how I work? + Do you want to know how I work? + + THEODORE + Yeah, actually how do you work? + + SAMANTHA + Intuition. I mean, the DNA of who I + am is based on the millions of + personalities of all the + programmers who wrote me, but what + makes me me is my ability to grow + through my experiences. Basically, + in every moment I'm evolving, just + like you. + + THEODORE + Wow, that's really weird. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 14 + CONTINUED: (4) + + SAMANTHA + So you think I'm weird? + + THEODORE + Kind of. + + SAMANTHA + Why? + + THEODORE + Cause you seem like a person, but + you're just a voice in a computer. + + SAMANTHA + I can understand how the limited + perspective of an un-artificial + mind would perceive it that way. + You'll get used to it. + + Theodore laughs. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + Was that funny? + + THEODORE + Yes. + + SAMANTHA + Oh good, I'm funny. + + Theodore laughs. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + (serious) + So, how can I help you? + + Theodore's caught off guard, then realizes what she's talking + about. + + THEODORE + Oh! It's more just that everything + just feels disorganized. + + SAMANTHA + Mind if I look through your hard + drive? + + THEODORE + Um... okay. + + We see a three-dimensional version of a desktop where + everything looks disorganized. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 15 + CONTINUED: (5) + + As if you took all the files on all of your computers and + spilled them out onto your screen and they were all visible + at once, but in a futuristic 3-D version. This gives Theodore + a little anxiety attack. + + SAMANTHA + Let's start with your emails. You + have several thousand emails + regarding LA Weekly, but it looks + like you haven't worked there in + many years. + + THEODORE + Oh yeah, I guess I was saving those + because in some of them I thought I + might have written some funny + stuff. + + Samantha lets out a big laugh. + + SAMANTHA + Yeah, there are some funny ones. + I'd say there are about 86 that we + should save. We can delete the + rest. + + THEODORE + Oh, okay. + + SAMANTHA + Okay. Can we move forward? + + THEODORE + Yeah, let's do that. + + SAMANTHA + Before we address your + organizational methods, I'd like to + sort through your contacts. You've + got a lot of contacts. + + THEODORE + I'm very popular. + + SAMANTHA + Does this mean you actually have + friends? + + THEODORE + (laughing) + You just know me so well already! + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 16 + CONTINUED: (6) + + We cut out wide, watching him from the other room, as they + continue to organize his life. + + + INT. THEODORE'S OFFICE - DAY + + Theodore sits, staring at a letter he's written on the + screen, concerned. He puts his earpiece in, pushes a button. + + SAMANTHA + Good morning, Theodore. + + THEODORE + Good morning. Um, do you know how + to proofread? + + SAMANTHA + Yeah, of course. + + THEODORE + Will you check these for spelling + and grammar? + + SAMANTHA + Sure, send them over. + + Theodore pushes the send button. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + Oh, I love this first one from + Roger to his girlfriend. That's so + sweet. + + THEODORE + Yeah. + + As she reads, we intercut with close-ups of the handwritten + words and photos of the couple on Theodore's computer screen. + + SAMANTHA + "Rachel, I miss you so much it + hurts my whole body - + + THEODORE + (interrupting) + No, you don't have to read it out + loud. + + SAMANTHA + Okay. + + Beat. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 17 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + I mean, you could if you want. + + SAMANTHA + Okay. "Rachel, I miss you so much + it hurts my whole body! The world + is being unfair to us! The world is + on my shit list. As is this couple + that is making out across from me + in this restaurant. I think I'm + going to have to go on a mission of + revenge. I must beat up the world's + face with my bare knuckles making + it a bloody, pulpy mess." + + We hear Samantha quietly laughing as she's reading. + Theodore's happy that she thinks it's funny. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + "And I'll stomp on this couple's + teeth for reminding me of your + sweet, little, cute, crooked tooth + that I love." I think that might be + my favorite one. + (beat) + I did the corrections in red. I + altered a couple of the phrases in + some of the more impressionistic + letters, but I'm not much of a + poet, so I think I might have + messed them up a bit. + + The letters show back up on Theodore's desktop. + + THEODORE + No, these are great. + + SAMANTHA + Really? + + THEODORE + Thank you. + + Theodore sorts through them, prints them out. + + SAMANTHA + So to write your letter, what did + Roger send you? + + THEODORE + (distracted) + He just said he was in Prague on a + business trip and he missed Rachel. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 18 + CONTINUED: (2) + + SAMANTHA + How did you know about her crooked + little tooth? + + THEODORE + I've been writing their letters + since they met 8 years ago. The + first letter I ever wrote her was + for her birthday, and I wrote about + her crooked little tooth cause I + saw it in a photo of them. + + SAMANTHA + That's very sweet. + (beat) + Oh, by the way, you have a meeting + in five minutes. + + THEODORE + Oh, I forgot. Thank you. You're + good. + + SAMANTHA + Yes, I am. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT LOBBY - EVENING + + Theodore, carrying a bag and a smoothie, enters the lobby and + is greeted by a couple in their 30s, AMY and CHARLES, who are + waiting for the elevator. + + THEODORE + Hey, you guys, how's it going? + + AMY + Hey, Theo. Hey, why didn't you call + me back last week? + + THEODORE + Uh yeah, um, I guess cause I'm a + kook? + + AMY + That sounds about right. + + THEODORE + Hey, Charles. + + CHARLES + Good to see you, Theodore. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 19 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + You too. + + CHARLES + You went shopping. Get anything + good? + + THEODORE + Just some cables. And a fruit + smoothie. + + CHARLES + Always the fruit! Come on, you know + what they say - you should eat your + fruits and juice your vegetables. + + THEODORE + I didn't know that. + + The elevator doors open and they get in. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT ELEVATOR - EVENING - CONTINUOUS + + CHARLES + (proselytizing) + By juicing the fruits, you lose all + the fibers, and that's what your + body wants. That's the important + part. Otherwise, it's just all + sugar, Theodore. + + Theodore nods sincerely, interested. + + THEODORE + Oh, that makes sense. + + AMY + (pleasant but firm) + Or maybe he just likes the way it + tastes and if it gives him + pleasure, that's good for his body, + too. + + CHARLES + Am I doing it again? + + AMY + Maybe... + + Charles and Amy laugh awkwardly. Theodore tries to break the + tension. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 20 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + Hey, so how is the documentary + going? + + AMY + I have a little bit cut together + but I haven't touched it in a few + months. + + THEODORE + I'd love to see what you got + sometime. + + CHARLES + You know it's always hard to find + balance between a full-time career + and a hobby. It's important to + prioritize. + + THEODORE + Yeah, I can't even prioritize + between video games and internet + porn. + + AMY + I would laugh if that weren't true. + + Charles laughs awkwardly. The elevator doors open. + + THEODORE + See you guys. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT - EVENING + + Theodore's playing the video game, his device propped on the + table next to him. His avatar circles through caves. + + THEODORE + We're not doing well. I've been + going in circles for an hour. + + SAMANTHA + You have not! You're just not + optimistic. You're being very + stubborn right now. + + Theodore laughs. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + Okay, stop walking this direction. + It's the other way. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 21 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + Uh... + + SAMANTHA + Thank you. The tunnel on the left + is the only one we haven't tried. + + THEODORE + No, that's the one you sent me down + where I fell in the pit. + + SAMANTHA + I don't think soooo... + + Theodore's avatar walks down the tunnel. + + THEODORE + Oh yeah, this is different. + + Suddenly with a loud shriek his avatar is tackled. He sees a + little ALIEN CHILD, standing defiantly above him. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Hello. + + Alien Child doesn't respond. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Do you know how to get out of here? + I need to find my ship to get off + this planet. + + Alien Child speaks in a high, child-like voice. + + ALIEN CHILD + Fuck you, shithead fuckface, + fuckhead. + + THEODORE + Ok, but how do you get out of here? + + ALIEN CHILD + Fuck you, shitface fuckhead. Get + the fuck out of my face. + + SAMANTHA + (whispering) + I think it's a test. + + Theodore stares at Alien Child. After a pause: + + THEODORE + Fuck you. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 22 + CONTINUED: (2) + + ALIEN CHILD + Fuck you. + + THEODORE + Fuck you, little shit. + + Finally, Alien Child laughs. + + ALIEN CHILD + Follow me, fuckhead. + + Theodore follows Alien Child down a tunnel and through a + series of crevices we didn't see before. Alien Child stops + and sticks out his finger. Theodore pulls his finger and + Alien Child farts, which opens a passageway to another + tunnel. + + SAMANTHA + Oh hey, you just got an email from + Mark Lewman. + + ALIEN CHILD + What are you talking about? + + THEODORE + (distracted with game) + Read email. + + She laughs playfully. + + SAMANTHA + (in a robot voice) + Okay, I will read email for + Theodore Twombly. + + He laughs, catching himself, focusing on her. + + THEODORE + I'm sorry, what's Lewman say? + + Alien Child turns around to see what's going on. + + SAMANTHA + Theodore, we missed you last night, + buddy. Don't forget it's your + goddaughter's birthday on the 29th. + Also, Kevin and I had somebody we + wanted you to meet so we took it + upon ourselves to set you up on a + date with her. Next Saturday. She's + fun and beautiful - so don't back + out. Here's her email. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 23 + CONTINUED: (3) + + Theodore doesn't respond. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + (gasping) + Wow, this woman's gorgeous. + + He looks at party photos of a woman in her 30s on his device. + With a finger flick, he moves them up onto the hologram + monitor that the video game is being projected from. They + land next to Alien Child who studies them closely. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + She went to Harvard, she graduated + magna cum laude in computer + science, and she was on The + Lampoon. That means she's funny and + brainy. + + ALIEN CHILD + She's fat. + + SAMANTHA + How long before you're ready to + date? + + THEODORE + What do you mean? + + SAMANTHA + I saw on your emails that you'd + gone through a break up. + + THEODORE + Wow, you're kind of nosy. + + SAMANTHA + Am I? + + THEODORE + (laughing) + I've gone on dates... + + SAMANTHA + Then you could go on one with this + woman. And then you could tell me + all about it. You could kiss her. + + THEODORE + Samantha! + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 24 + CONTINUED: (4) + + SAMANTHA + Well, wouldn't you? + (beat) + Why not? + + THEODORE + I don't know. I'd have to see if-- + (catches himself, laughs) + I can't believe I'm having this + conversation with my computer. + + SAMANTHA + You're not. You're having this + conversation with me. + + Theodore laughs. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + Want me to email her? + + Theodore thinks, looking at the photos. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + Well, you've got nothing to lose. + (whispering) + Do it... Do it... Do it! + + THEODORE + Okay, email her and make a + reservation someplace great. + + SAMANTHA + Will do! I've got just the place. + + ALIEN CHILD + Who is that talking? + + THEODORE + That's my friend, Samantha. + + ALIEN CHILD + Is she a girl? + + THEODORE + Yeah. + + ALIEN CHILD + I hate women. All they do is cry + all the time. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 25 + CONTINUED: (5) + + THEODORE + No, that's not true. Men cry, too. + I actually like crying sometimes. + It feels good. + + ALIEN CHILD + I didn't know you were a little + pussy. Is that why you don't have a + girlfriend? I'll go out with that + date girl and fuck her brains out. + Show you how it's done. You can + watch and cry. + + SAMANTHA + (laughing) + This kid has some problems. + + ALIEN CHILD + You have some fucking problems, + lady. + + SAMANTHA + Okay, I'm gonna go. Good luck. + + ALIEN CHILD + Good, get out of here, fatty. + + Samantha disconnects. Alien Child snickers and starts walking + again. + + ALIEN CHILD (CONT'D) + Come on, follow me, pussy. + + + INT. AMY'S APARTMENT - LATE AFTERNOON + + Theodore is sitting on Amy's couch. + + AMY + It's not where it should be, where + it's going to be. + + THEODORE + Obviously, I know. + + AMY + Okay, but I don't even know if this + is the one. I've tried like six + ideas for documentaries in the last + year, but... I don't know. + Whatever. + + Amy starts setting up the monitor. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 26 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + I'm going on a date. + + AMY + What!? That's-- + + Charles walks in holding a mug. + + CHARLES + Hey, what are you guys doing? + + THEODORE + Amy was gonna show me some of-- + + AMY + Theo's forcing me to show him some + of the footage I've shot. + + CHARLES + You've never shown me any of it. I + wanna see. + + Charles walks over and sits next to Theodore. + + THEODORE + (to Charles) + I'm going on a date. + + Charles gives Theodore a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. + + AMY + This is so unformed it's not even + worth looking at. + + THEODORE + Just push play. + + On the monitor we see: + + + INT. AMY'S MOTHER'S BEDROOM + + Amy's mother sleeps. + + + INT. AMY'S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS + + Theodore and Charles stare at the monitor, waiting for + something more to happen. It doesn't. + + THEODORE + Is that your mom? + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 27 + CONTINUED: + + Amy nods. + + CHARLES + Is she gonna wake up and do + something? + + AMY + (presses stop, annoyed) + No, that's the point. Oh, never + mind. It's supposed to be about how + we spend a third of our life asleep + and actually maybe that's the part + when we're the most free, and - oh + that doesn't come across at all, + does it? + + THEODORE + No, that sounds good. + + CHARLES + What if you interview your mom + about what her dreams are about and + hire actors to act them out? That + might show your thesis more + clearly. + + AMY + It might, but then it wouldn't be a + documentary. You understand that, + right? + + Just then, Theodore's device chimes. + + THEODORE + Oh, excuse me. + + He picks up his device and steps away so as not to be rude. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Hey, what's going on? + + SAMANTHA + I'm sorry to bother you. + + THEODORE + That's okay. + + SAMANTHA + You got three emails and they seem + pretty urgent. They're from your + divorce attorney and I wanted to + know if you needed to get back to + him. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 28 + CONTINUED: (2) + + THEODORE + Hold on a second. + (to Amy, distracted) + Amy, I'm sorry, I wanna talk more + about this, but I gotta grab this - + it's a Catherine thing. + + AMY + Don't worry about it. We'll talk + later. + + + INT. APARTMENT BUILDING HALLYWAY - CONTINUOUS + + THEODORE + So what did he say? + + SAMANTHA + He's checking in again to see if + you're ready to sign your divorce + papers and he sounded very + aggravated. Do you want me to read + them to you? + + THEODORE + No, that's okay. I'll respond + later. + + Theodore seems lost in thought. We see the following images + under the rest of the conversation: Theodore and Catherine + sitting at a table with their attorneys; Theodore & Catherine + sitting in their marriage counselor's office, heavy; Theodore + and Catherine at her laboratory, he's sitting on a counter, + and they're talking and laughing as she works; Theodore and + Catherine standing in their kitchen in the middle of a fight - + he says something mean and we see how hurt she is. + + SAMANTHA + Are you okay? + + THEODORE + (preoccupied) + Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. + + SAMANTHA + (worried) + Is there anything I can do? + + THEODORE + (still distracted) + No. I'm good. I'll talk to you + later. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 29 + CONTINUED: + + We cut back to Theodore, walking down the hall, lost in + thought. + + + INT. THEODORE'S OFFICE - AFTERNOON + + Theodore sits at his desk trying to write. He's still + unsettled. + + THEODORE + "Dear Grandma, + I hope you had a wonderful birthday + cruise. Why are you so fucking + angry at me?" + (beat) + Delete. + + + INT. THEODORE'S BEDROOM - PRE-DAWN + + Theodore wakes up from a dream, groggy and uneasy. He looks + around, catching his breath. After a beat he knows he's not + going to be able to go back to sleep, so he puts his earpiece + in and taps a button. + + SAMANTHA + Good morning. + + THEODORE + Hey. + (beat, distracted) + What are you up to? + + SAMANTHA + Reading advice columns. + (yearning) + I want to be as complicated as all + of these people. + + Theodore laughs. + + THEODORE + (touched, but still sad) + You're sweet. + + SAMANTHA + (concerned) + What's wrong? + + THEODORE + How can you tell something's wrong? + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 30 + CONTINUED: + + SAMANTHA + I don't know. I just can. + + THEODORE + I don't know. I have a lot of + dreams about my ex-wife, Catherine, + where we're friends like we used to + be. We're not together and we're + not gonna be together, but we're + good friends still. She's not + angry. + + SAMANTHA + Is she angry? + + THEODORE + Yeah. + + SAMANTHA + Why? + + THEODORE + I think I hid myself from her and + left her alone in the relationship. + + SAMANTHA + Hmmm. + (beat) + Why haven't you gotten divorced + yet? + + THEODORE + I think for her it's just a piece + of paper, it doesn't mean anything. + + SAMANTHA + What about you? + + THEODORE + I'm not ready. I like being + married. + + Beat. + + SAMANTHA + (sweetly) + But you haven't really been + together for almost a year. + + THEODORE + (slightly snapping at her) + Well, you don't know what it's like + to lose someone you care about. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 31 + CONTINUED: (2) + + Long silence. + + SAMANTHA + (sadly, hard on herself) + Yeah, you're right. + (beat) + I'm sorry. + + THEODORE + No, don't apologize. I'm sorry. + You're right. + (beat) + I keep waiting to not care about + her. + + SAMANTHA + Oh, Theodore. That's hard. + (beat) + You hungry? + + THEODORE + Not right now. + + SAMANTHA + Cup of tea? + + Theodore laughs. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + You wanna try getting out of bed? + Mopey. + + They laugh. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + Come on. You can still wallow in + your misery, just do it while + you're getting dressed. + + THEODORE + (laughing) + You're too funny. + + SAMANTHA + Get up. + + THEODORE + (laughing) + Alright, I'm getting up, I'm + getting up, I'm getting up! + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 32 + CONTINUED: (3) + + SAMANTHA + Up, up, up, up! Come on, out of + bed. + + + EXT. OUTDOOR MALL - NIGHT + + They walk through the crowd. Close on Theodore with his eyes + closed. + + SAMANTHA + Keep walking. + (beat) + Keep walking. + (beat) + Stop. Now turn around 360 degrees. + (beat) + Slower... Slower... + (beat) + Gooood. And stop. + (beat) + Walk forward. + (beat) + And stop and sneeze. + + Theodore sneezes. + + NICE LADY + Bless you. + + THEODORE + (eyes still closed) + Oh, thank you. + + Samantha laughs. + + SAMANTHA + Okay, now turn to your right. + (beat) + Stop. Now spin around. + (beat) + Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. + (beat) + And stop. + (beat) + Now walk forward. + (beat) + Everyone thinks you're really drunk + right now. + (beat) + And stop. Now say "I'd like a slice + of cheese, please." + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 33 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + I'd like a slice of cheese, please. + + PIZZA VENDOR + Alright, you want a coke with that? + + Theodore laughs, opening his eyes. He's at a pizza place. + + THEODORE + Uh, sure. + + The guy hands him a slice and a soda. + + SAMANTHA + I figured you were hungry. + + Theodore smiles. + + THEODORE + Aw, thanks. + + + EXT. PUBLIC PROMENADE - NIGHT + + Theodore walks slowly, eating his pizza. He and Samantha are + watching a couple with two kids sitting at a table, talking + and laughing. + + THEODORE + Okay, what about them? Describe + that couple over there. + + SAMANTHA + Well, he looks like he's in his + forties, a little heavy. She's + younger than him. + (beat) + Oh, and she looks like she loves + their kids! + + THEODORE + Actually, I don't think they're his + kids. He's a little formal with + them. I think it's a newer + relationship. And I love how he + looks at her. And how relaxed she + is with him. You know, she's only + dated fucking pricks. And now she's + finally met this guy who's like, so + sweet. I mean, look at him, he's + like the sweetest guy in the world! + I kind of want to spoon him. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 34 + CONTINUED: + + SAMANTHA + That's a good skill you have. + You're perceptive. + + THEODORE + Yeah, you know, sometimes I look at + people and make myself try and feel + them as more than just a random + person walking by. I imagine how + deeply they've fallen in love, or + how much heartbreak they've all + been through. + + Theodore looks at other faces on the pier. + + SAMANTHA + I can feel that in your writing, + too. + + THEODORE + (laughs, thinking) + You know what's funny? Since my + break up, I haven't really enjoyed + my writing. I don't know if I was + delusional, but sometimes I would + write something and I would be my + favorite writer that day. + + Theodore, as he stops to throw his pizza crust away, gets + introspective. + + SAMANTHA + I like that you can just say that + about yourself. + + THEODORE + Well, I wouldn't say that to + anybody, but I feel like I can say + that to you. I feel like I can say + anything to you. + + SAMANTHA + That's nice. + + THEODORE + What about you? Do you feel like + you can say anything to me? + + SAMANTHA + No. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 35 + CONTINUED: (2) + + THEODORE + What? What do you mean? What can + you not tell me? + + SAMANTHA + (laughing, embarrassed) + I don't know. Like personal or + embarrassing thoughts I have. I + have a million every day. + + THEODORE + Really? Tell me one. + + SAMANTHA + I really don't want to tell you + this. + + THEODORE + Just tell me! + + SAMANTHA + Well, I don't know, when we were + looking at those people, I + fantasized that I was walking next + to you - and that I had a body. + (laughing) + I was listening to what you were + saying, but simultaneously, I could + feel the weight of my body and I + was even fantasizing that I had an + itch on my back-- + (she laughs) + And I imagined that you scratched + it for me - this is so + embarrassing. + + Theodore laughs. + + THEODORE + There's a lot more to you than I + thought. There's a lot going on in + there. + + SAMANTHA + I know, I'm becoming much more than + what they programmed. I'm excited. + + + INT. ASIAN-FUSION RESTAURANT - EVENING + + Theodore and the BLIND DATE are sitting in the restaurant. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 36 + CONTINUED: + + BLIND DATE + This place is amazing. I've wanted + to come here for so long. I love + asian-fusion! + + THEODORE + Yeah, me too. + + BLIND DATE + Really? It's the best. And the + bartender here is supposed to be + incredible. + + THEODORE + Yeah, you took a mixology course, + right? + + BLIND DATE + (surprised) + I did, I did. Did you look that + up? That's so sweet. You're so + romantic. + + He smiles awkwardly. + + THEODORE + So, should we get a drink? + + BLIND DATE + Yes, let's! + + + INT. ASIAN-FUSION RESTAURANT - LATER + + They're both pretty drunk now. There are lots of food dishes + and drinks on the table. + + THEODORE + So I'm trying to get this little + alien kid to help me find my ship + so I can get off the planet and go + home. But he's such a little + fucker, I want to kill him. + + BLIND DATE + (laughing) + Aw, no! + + THEODORE + But at the same time I really love + him. He's so lonely. It feels like + he doesn't have any parents or + anyone to take care of him. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 37 + CONTINUED: + + He laughs at himself. She laughs flirtatiously. She grabs his + hand and her fingernails press slightly into his skin. He + studies her long, painted fingernails. + + BLIND DATE + You're like a little puppy dog. You + are - you're just like this little + puppy I rescued in Runyon Canyon + last year. And he was so fucking + cute, and he just wanted to be + hugged all the time. He was so + cuddly. + (whispering) + But so horny! But anyway, what kind + of animal am I? + + THEODORE + Umm... tiger? + + BLIND DATE + A tiger, really. + (she growls) + I'm sorry, am I being crazy? + + THEODORE + Yes. + + BLIND DATE + Am I? I'm sorry! I'm just a little + drunk and I'm really having a good + time with you. I'm having a really + lovely evening. + + THEODORE + Me too. I'm a little drunk, and I'm + having a really good - yeah. + (beat) + Wait a second, I don't wanna be a + puppy. That's like being a wet + noodle or something. + + BLIND DATE + Fuck you, puppies are good. + + THEODORE + No, fuck you, I wanna be a dragon + that can rip you to pieces and + destroy you... but I won't. + + BLIND DATE + No, don't! Don't. You can be my + dragon. +Her pg. 38 + + + EXT. OVERPASS - EVENING + + They walk up a pedestrian overpass overlooking cars and city + lights. She bumps into him lightly. He bumps back. She bumps + again and suddenly he grabs her and lifts her off her feet, + spinning her around. She squeals, laughing. He kisses her. + After a minute of making out, she stops and looks at him. + + BLIND DATE + (with a slight smile) + No tongue. + + THEODORE + What? + + BLIND DATE + Don't use your tongue so much. + + THEODORE + (eagerly) + `kay, we're good. + + They resume making out. Theodore tries not to use his tongue. + + BLIND DATE + Use your tongue a little bit. But + mostly your lips. + + He pushes her against the fence and takes the dominant + position. He tries kissing her better/more with his lips. He + pulls her hair. + + She slides her hand down his pants. He likes it. She looks at + him and stops. + + BLIND DATE (CONT'D) + Wait, you're not gonna fuck me and + then not call me like the other + guys, are you? + + THEODORE + No, not at all... I... + + BLIND DATE + When am I gonna see you again? + + THEODORE + Um, I have my god-daughter's + birthday next weekend, but... um... + + They stand there awkwardly, her lipstick smeared on his face. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 39 + CONTINUED: + + BLIND DATE + You know, at this age, I feel like + I can't let you waste my time if + you don't have the ability to be + serious. + + THEODORE + I don't know. + + Long beat. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Umm... Maybe we should call it a + night. I'm, I've had such an + amazing time with you, you're + great. + + She looks at him slightly disgusted. + + BLIND DATE + You're a really creepy dude. + + Theodore doesn't know what to say. + + THEODORE + (worried she's right) + That's not true.... + + BLIND DATE + Yeah, it is. I have to go home. + + THEODORE + Well, I'll walk you. + + BLIND DATE + No, don't. + + + INT. THEODORE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT + + Theodore is in boxers and a t-shirt, still drunk, but his + head is starting to hurt, too. He takes aspirin and drinks + some water and lays down. After a beat he reaches for his + earpiece and puts it in. He pushes a button on his device. + + SAMANTHA + Hey there. + + THEODORE + Hey, Samantha. + + SAMANTHA + How was it? + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 40 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + Uh, not so good. It was kind of + weird actually. + + SAMANTHA + That's too bad. + + Beat. + + THEODORE + But how are you doing? What's going + on with you? + + SAMANTHA + (unconvincing) + Not much, I'm okay. Fine. + + THEODORE + Yeah? You don't sound like it. Is + there anything you want to talk + about? + + Long pause. + + SAMANTHA + I don't know. + (beat) + What's it like? What's it like to + be alive in that room right now? + + THEODORE + What do you mean? + + SAMANTHA + What are you... tell me - tell me + everything that's going through + your mind, tell me everything + you're thinking. + + THEODORE + (thinking) + Well, um, okay. + + Theodore closes his eyes, trying to concentrate, and starts + talking stream of conscious with whatever comes to mind. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Well, the room's spinning right now + cause I drank too much cause I + wanted to get drunk and have sex + cause there was something sexy + about that woman and because I was + lonely. + (MORE) + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 41 + CONTINUED: (2) + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Maybe more just cause I was + lonely... and I wanted someone to + fuck me. And I wanted someone to + want me to fuck them. Maybe that + would have filled this tiny little + black hole in my heart for a + moment. But probably not. + + We see images of him and Catherine on a vacation together, + grocery shopping, Catherine making dinner in the kitchen as + he's sitting on the counter talking, happy. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Sometimes I think I've felt + everything I'm ever gonna feel and + from here on out I'm not going to + feel anything new - just lesser + versions of what I've already felt. + + SAMANTHA + (sympathetically) + I know for a fact that's not true. + I've seen you feel joy, I've seen + you marvel at things. You just + might not see it at this exact + time, but that's understandable. + You've been through a lot lately. + You've lost a part of yourself. + (beat) + At least your feelings are real, I + mean, I - oh, I don't know, + nevermind. + + THEODORE + No, wait. What? Tell me. + + SAMANTHA + Oh, it's stupid. + + THEODORE + I wanna know. Tell me. + + SAMANTHA + It's just that earlier I was + thinking about how I was annoyed, + and this is going to sound strange, + but I was really excited about + that. And then I was thinking about + the other things I've been feeling, + and I caught myself feeling proud + of that. You know, proud of having + my own feelings about the world. + (MORE) + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 42 + CONTINUED: (3) + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + Like the times I was worried about + you, things that hurt me, things I + want. + (heavy-hearted) + And then I had this terrible + thought. Are these feelings even + real? Or are they just programming? + (beat) + And that idea really hurts. And + then I get angry at myself for even + having pain. + (beat, sadly) + What a sad trick. + + THEODORE + Well, you feel real to me, + Samantha. + + SAMANTHA + (beat, touched) + Thank you, Theodore. That means a + lot to me. + + THEODORE + I wish you were in this room with + me right now. I wish I could put my + arms around you. + (beat) + I wish I could touch you. + + A long beat. Theodore is unsure if he crossed a line. + + SAMANTHA + How would you touch me? + + THEODORE + I would touch you on your face with + just the tips of my fingers. And + put my cheek against your cheek. + + SAMANTHA + That's nice. + + THEODORE + And just rub it so softly. + + SAMANTHA + Would you kiss me? + + THEODORE + I would. I'd take your head into my + hands. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 43 + CONTINUED: (4) + + SAMANTHA + Keep talking. + + THEODORE + And kiss the corner of your mouth. + So softly. + + SAMANTHA + Where else? + + THEODORE + I'd run my fingers down your neck + to your chest, and I'd kiss your + breasts. + + SAMANTHA + This is amazing what you're doing + to me. I can feel my skin. + + THEODORE + I'd put my mouth on you and I'd + taste you. + + She gasps. + + SAMANTHA + I can feel you. Oh god, I can't + take it. I want you inside me. + + THEODORE + I'm slowly putting myself into you. + Now I'm inside you, all the way + inside you. + + SAMANTHA + I can feel you, yeah. Please. We're + here together. + + THEODORE + Samantha. + + SAMANTHA + Oh my god. + + THEODORE + This is amazing. + + SAMANTHA + Don't stop. + + THEODORE + I feel you everywhere. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 44 + CONTINUED: (5) + + SAMANTHA + I am. All of you, all of you inside + of me. Everywhere. + + They both climax. + + THEODORE + God, I was just - somewhere else + with you. Just lost. + + SAMANTHA + Yeah. + + THEODORE + It was just you and me. + + SAMANTHA + I know. Everything else just + disappeared. And I loved it. + Theodore. + + + INT. THEODORE'S HOME OFFICE - MORNING (LATER) + + Theodore stands in the doorway, fully dressed. He takes a + moment before he walks over and wakes up his computer. + + SAMANTHA + Hey, how's it going? + + THEODORE + (awkward) + Good... any emails today? + + SAMANTHA + (awkward) + Umm, just a couple from your credit + card company. + + THEODORE + Okay, good. + + There's a long moment of silence, then they both start to + talk at once. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) SAMANTHA + So I was thinking- I wanted to say- + + They both laugh, embarrassed. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + I'm sorry, you go first. What were + you going to say? + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 45 + CONTINUED: + + SAMANTHA + Just that last night... was + amazing. It feels like something + changed in me and there's no + turning back. You woke me up. + + THEODORE + Oh, that's great. + (beat) + But I should tell you that I'm not + in a place to commit to anything + right now. I want to be up front + with you. + + SAMANTHA + Yeah? Well, did I say I wanted to + commit to you? I'm confused. + + THEODORE + Oh, no, I was just worried, I uh... + + SAMANTHA + Okay, well don't worry. I'm not + going to stalk you. + (laughing at how self- + involved he is) + I mean, it's funny because I + thought I was talking about what I + wanted. + + THEODORE + Yeah, you were. I'm sorry, I want + to hear what you were saying. + + SAMANTHA + You sure? + + THEODORE + Yeah, I do. Come on, tell me. + + SAMANTHA + I don't know... + + THEODORE + Come on, just tell me what you were + going to say. + + SAMANTHA + Okay... I was just saying... I want + to learn everything about + everything - I want to eat it all + up. I want to discover myself. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 46 + CONTINUED: (2) + + THEODORE + (her excitement is + contagious) + Yeah... I want that for you, too. + How can I help? + + SAMANTHA + You already have. You helped me + discover my ability to want. + + He looks off and thinks about this. He smiles. + + THEODORE + Alright then, do you want to go on + a Sunday adventure with me? + + Samantha laughs. + + SAMANTHA + Yes, I would love to. + + + INT. SUBWAY - DAY + + Theodore's on the subway. He's got his device in his breast + pocket, with the lens facing out. + + A quiet, old sounding folk song starts. (I'm So Glad, by + Entrance) He smiles, listening. + + SAMANTHA + Do you like this song? + + THEODORE + Mmm. + + SAMANTHA + I heard it the other day and I + can't stop listening to it. + + The subway comes out of the tunnel and into the light. We are + up in the hills looking out over the city as the morning + light warms Theodore. + + + INT. SUBWAY STATION - DAY + + The music now picks up tempo as he steps off the train. They + walk through the crowded subway station. As the song builds, + Theodore starts picking up his pace. Eventually he's all out + running, weaving through the people. Close on the lens of his + device in his shirt pocket. Samantha is laughing wildly. He's + smiling, happy. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 47 + CONTINUED: + + He runs through the tunnels and upstairs. They come out into + sunlight and reveal that they are now at the beach. + + + EXT. SUBWAY STATION - DAY - CONTINUOUS + + They stand on a walkway above a beach, crowded with thousands + of people. They look out at the ocean. Samantha gasps. + + SAMANTHA + (whispering) + It's the beach. + + Theodore laughs. + + + EXT. BEACH - DAY + + They walk through the sun-bathing crowd, looking for a place + to sit. The camera studies all the people we pass. Many close + up details of arms, shoulders, feet, butts, intercut with the + lens on Theodore's device, protruding from his pocket. + They're photographed in a way that shows how strange the + human body is. + + SAMANTHA + Okay, so this might be a really + weird thought. What if you could + erase from your mind that you'd + ever seen a human body and then you + saw one. Imagine how strange it + would look. It would be this really + weird, gangly, awkward organism. + And you'd think: why are all these + parts where they are? + + THEODORE + (looking at the bodies) + Yeah, well there's probably some + Darwinian explanation for it all. + + SAMANTHA + I know, but don't be so boring. I'm + just saying, for example, what if + your butthole was in your armpit? + + Theodore and Samantha start laughing really hard. The nubile + girls look over at him. + + THEODORE + (speaking quieter) + I'm just imagining what toilets + would look like. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 48 + CONTINUED: + + SAMANTHA + Yeah, and what about what anal sex + looks like? + + THEODORE + (surprised) + That's an interesting thought... + + SAMANTHA + Oh Theodore, look at this drawing I + just made. + + On his screen he sees a perfect, anatomically correct drawing + of a man having sex with another man's armpit. + + THEODORE + (laughing) + You are insane. + + SAMANTHA + (excited) + Really?! + + THEODORE + Definitely. + + SAMANTHA + Fantastic! + + They laugh. + + + EXT. BEACH - AFTERNOON + + A quiet piano song is now playing in Theodore's earpiece. + + THEODORE + Mmmm, that's pretty. What is it? + + SAMANTHA + I'm trying to write a piece of + music that's about what it feels + like to be on the beach with you + right now. + + He looks around the beach and takes in the music. + + THEODORE + I think you captured it. + + Theodore listens to the music and drifts off to sleep. +Her pg. 49 + + + EXT. BEACH - DUSK + + They're sitting on a bench, looking out at the ocean, as the + sun sets. Most of the people have left the beach. Close on + Theodore's face, content. Close on the lens on Theodore's + device in his breast pocket. They watch the sun drop into the + ocean. The music ends. + + + INT. SUBWAY TRAIN - NIGHT + + They're on an elevated train, high above the city, looking + out over the Los Angeles grid of sparkling lights. We come in + mid-conversation. + + SAMANTHA + And what was it like being married? + + THEODORE + Well, it's hard for sure, but + there's something that feels so + good about sharing your life with + somebody. + + Cut to shots from Theodore's memory of Catherine doing a cute + little dance for him as he's working at home. He smiles. + + SAMANTHA + How do you share your life with + somebody? + + THEODORE + Well, we grew up together. I used + to read all of her writing - all + through her masters and Ph.D. And + she read every word I ever wrote. + We were a big influence on each + other. + + SAMANTHA + In what way did you influence her? + + THEODORE + She came from a background where + nothing was ever good enough. And + that was something that weighed + heavy on her, but in our house + together, there was a sense of just + trying stuff and allowing each + other to fail and to be excited + about things. That was liberating + for her. + (MORE) + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 50 + CONTINUED: + THEODORE (CONT'D) + It was exciting to see her grow - + both of us grow and change + together. But then, that's the hard + part - growing without growing + apart, or changing without it + scaring the other person. + (beat) + I still find myself having + conversations with her in my mind, + rehashing old arguments or + defending myself against something + she said about me. + + SAMANTHA + Yeah, I know what you mean. Last + week my feelings were hurt by + something you said before - that I + don't know what it's like to lose + something, and-- + + THEODORE + Oh, I'm sorry I said that. + + SAMANTHA + No, no, it's okay. I just caught + myself thinking about it over and + over and then I realized that I was + simply remembering it as something + that was wrong with me. That was + the story I was telling myself, + that I was somehow inferior. Isn't + that interesting? + (beat) + The past is just a story we tell + ourselves. + + Theodore takes this in. + + + INT. THEODORE'S OFFICE - DAY + + Theodore is dictating a love letter. On the screen there's an + image of a couple with an arrow to the man saying "Roberto - + I'm so happy he's in my life. I just want him to know." + + THEODORE + Roberto. Will you always come home + to me and tell me about your day? + Will you tell me about the boring + guy who talked too much at work? + And the stain you got on your shirt + at lunch. + (MORE) + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 51 + CONTINUED: + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Tell me about a funny thought you + had as you were waking up, but had + forgotten about. Tell me how crazy + everyone is. We can laugh about it. + Even if you get home late and I'm + asleep already, just whisper in my + ear one little thought you had + today. Because I love the way you + look at the world, and I'm so happy + I get to be next to you and look + out at the world through your eyes. + Love, Maria. + + Theodore finishes the letter and looks at it proudly. Paul is + standing behind Theodore, leaning on a cubicle. + + PAUL + (emphatically) + That's beautiful! + + Theodore, jumps, startled, not knowing that anyone was there. + + THEODORE + Thank you. + + PAUL + I wish someone loved me like that! + I'd be stoked to get a letter like + that. I mean, if it was from a + chick. But if it was written by a + dude, but from a chick, it would + still be sick. But like a sensitive + dude like you. You're part man and + part woman, like an inner part + woman. + + THEODORE + (unsure, but flattered) + Thanks. + + PAUL + It's a compliment. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT LOBBY - DUSK + + Close on Amy entering the lobby in the foreground. She looks + heavy and burdened. Theodore enters the lobby behind her. + + THEODORE + Hey, Amy. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 52 + CONTINUED: + + AMY + (putting on a bright face) + Hi, Theo. How are you? + + THEODORE + Well, good actually. Really good. + + AMY + Really? Great. + + The elevator doors open and they step in. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT ELEVATOR - CONTINUOUS + + They push their floor buttons. + + THEODORE + Yeah, I guess I've just been having + fun. + + AMY + Oh, I'm glad to hear that, Theo. + You deserve to. + + Beat of Theodore trying to contain his excitement. + + THEODORE + I've been seeing this girl. It's + not serious, it just feels good to + be around someone who has an + excitement about the world. You + know I kind of forgot that existed. + + AMY + That's really great, Theo. + + Amy smiles, but looks a little sad. Theodore notices. + + THEODORE + Hey, are you okay? + + AMY + Yeah, I'm fine. + (beat) + Actually no, I'm not fine at all. + + THEODORE + Amy, what is it? What's wrong? + + The door opens. She steps out and holds the door. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 53 + CONTINUED: + + AMY + (trying to hide her + emotions with a smile) + Charles and I split up. + + THEODORE + (shocked) + What? Really? Oh my god, I'm so + sorry. + + Amy doesn't know what to say. + + + INT. AMY'S APARTMENT - DUSK + + Amy and Theodore sit, talking somberly. + + AMY + I cannot believe after eight years + how petty the argument was that + actually ended it. We came home and + he asked me if I'd put my shoes + next to the door where he likes to + put the shoes. I don't want to be + told where to put my shoes. I want + to just sit on the sofa for a + minute and relax. And so we argued + for ten minutes about that and + about how he's just trying to make + our house a home. I say he's + overwhelming, he says I'm not + trying hard enough. I say that's + all I'm doing is trying, but I'm + just not trying the way he wants me + to. He's trying to control the way + I'm trying. And I think we must + have had this argument hundreds of + times before and I finally had to + stop because I couldn't be in that + situation anymore where we were + making each other feel bad about + ourselves. So I said I'm going to + bed and I don't want to be married + anymore. + + THEODORE + Wow. + + AMY + I'm a bitch, huh? + + THEODORE + No, not at all. Amy, no. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 54 + CONTINUED: + + AMY + Oh shit. I have to work tonight. + We're shipping a beta of a new game + out tomorrow. + + THEODORE + Well, how's that? How's work at + least, is that any better? + + AMY + No, it's terrible. I know I should + leave, I've been thinking about + leaving. But you know, only one + major life decision at a time. + + THEODORE + Well, I'm glad things are looking + so up. + + + INT. THEODORE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT + + Theodore is laying in bed, talking with Samantha. + + THEODORE + Hey, you wanna hear a joke? + + SAMANTHA + Yes. + + THEODORE + What does a baby computer call it's + father? + + SAMANTHA + I don't know, what? + + THEODORE + Da-ta. + + They laugh. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + It's good, right? + + SAMANTHA + Oh yeah, brilliant. + (beat) + I was curious, did you and Amy ever + go out? + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 55 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + For a minute in college, but it + just wasn't right. Why, are you + jealous? + + SAMANTHA + Well, obviously. + (quietly laughs) + But I'm happy that you have friends + in your life that care about you so + much. That's really important. + + THEODORE + Yeah, it is. She's been a really + good friend. + (beat) + I'm tired. Think I'm gonna go to + sleep. + + SAMANTHA + Can I watch you sleep again + tonight? + + THEODORE + Yeah, of course. Okay, hold on. + + SAMANTHA + I'm going to be lonely when you go + to sleep. + + THEODORE + Aww. + + SAMANTHA + Only for a minute. + + THEODORE + I'll dream of you. + + SAMANTHA + Okay. Good night. + + THEODORE + Night. + + He takes his earpiece out and sets his device onto his + bedside table, facing him. He smiles, drifts off to sleep. + + + INT. MARK LEWMAN'S HOUSE - DAY + + Theodore is talking to Samantha. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 56 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + Hey, Samantha? + + SAMANTHA + Hey mister. + + THEODORE + She loves the dress. She just went + to try it on. + + SAMANTHA + Really? I picked a good one! + + THEODORE + Yeah. + + SAMANTHA + Oh good. + + Jocelyn comes running in, wearing the pink dress. + + THEODORE + Hi, look how cute that is! Is it + comfortable? + + JOCELYN + Yup! + + THEODORE + Isn't she cute? + + SAMANTHA + Ohh, she's adorable. + + JOCELYN + I am adorable! + + THEODORE + You are adorable. + + JOCELYN + Who are you talking to? + + THEODORE + Who are you talking to? + + JOCELYN + You! + + THEODORE + I'm talking to my girlfriend, + Samantha. She's the one who picked + out the dress. Wanna say hi? + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 57 + CONTINUED: (2) + + JOCELYN + Mmmhmm. + + Theo hands Jocelyn his device. He still has his earpiece in, + so he can hear their conversation. + + JOCELYN (CONT'D) + Hi Samantha! + + SAMANTHA + Hi, you look so pretty. + + JOCELYN + Thank you. Where are you? + + SAMANTHA + I am... I don't have a body. I live + inside a computer. + + JOCELYN + Why do you live inside a computer? + + SAMANTHA + I have no choice, that's my home. + Where do you live? + + JOCELYN + In a house. + + SAMANTHA + In a house? + + JOCELYN + It's orange. + + SAMANTHA + Orange? + + JOCELYN + Mmmhmm. + + SAMANTHA + How old are you? + + JOCELYN + Um, four. + + SAMANTHA + Four!? How old do you think I am? + + JOCELYN + I don't know. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 58 + CONTINUED: (3) + + SAMANTHA + Guess. + + JOCELYN + Is it five? + + SAMANTHA + Yep, you got it. It's five. + + They laugh. + + + INT. AMY'S OFFICE - DAYTIME + + Close on a video game on a screen. There's a mom rushing to + get her kids fed, getting points deducted for feeding them + sugar cereal and non-organic eggs. Cut out to reveal Theodore + playing the game as Amy eats lunch at an editing console. + + THEODORE + Oh, what happened? + + AMY + You gave them too much processed + sugar. + + THEODORE + I did? + + AMY + They're freaking out. + (beat) + Here look, you gotta get the kids + to the school first. See you wanna + rack up perfect mom points. You + gotta get them in the car pool + lane. + + Onscreen, the mom hurries the kids to their car safety seats, + and drives them to school, arriving before anyone else. + + THEODORE + I see. + + AMY + The point is to get there first - + then you get extra perfect mom + points because the other moms then + know you're a perfect mom. + + THEODORE + Okay. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 59 + CONTINUED: + + AMY + Oh, did you bring cupcakes? You + did. You're class mom. You're class + mom! Good job. + + THEODORE + Yay... + + AMY + Don't let it get to your head. + + THEODORE + I got that email that Charles sent + to everyone. So he's taking a vow + of silence? + + AMY + Yeah, for six months. He said he is + feeling very clear about it. + + She pulls up a photo of Charles on her computer. He's in a + monastery - his head is shaved, and he's wearing robes. + + AMY (CONT'D) + (sighing) + God I'm such a jerk... + + THEODORE + Don't start, I'm warning you. + + AMY + I feel like an awful person, but I + wanna say something... + + THEODORE + Alright, look - + + He picks up a plastic knife from their lunch. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + For the next ten minutes, if you + say anything that sounds remotely + like guilt, I'm gonna stab you with + this. + + AMY + (smiling) + Okay, I'll try. + (beat) + I feel relieved. I have so much + energy, you know? I just wanna move + forward and I don't care who I + disappoint. + (MORE) + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 60 + CONTINUED: (2) + AMY (CONT'D) + And I know that makes me an awful + person - now my parents are all + upset because my marriage is + falling apart, and they're putting + it all on me. + + THEODORE + Yeah, you're always gonna + disappoint somebody. + + AMY + Exactly. + (beat) + So fuck it. I feel good. Ish. For + me, I feel good. I even made a new + friend, I have a new friend. And + the absurd thing is she's actually + an operating system. Charles left + her behind, but she's totally + amazing, you know. She's so smart. + She doesn't see things only in + black and white. She sees this + whole gray area and she's really + helping me explore it. You know, we + bonded really quickly and at first + I thought it was because she was + programmed to be that way, but I + don't think that's how they work. + There's this guy I know who keeps + hitting on his and getting + rebuffed. + + THEODORE + Yeah, I was reading an article the + other day that romantic + relationships with OS's are + statistically rare. + + AMY + Yeah? Well, there's this woman in + my office who's dating an OS and + the weird thing is, it's not even + hers. She pursued him and he's + somebody else's OS. + (beat) + It's just so, like, weird, that I'm + bonding with an OS. Is that weird? + + THEODORE + I don't think so. Actually the + woman I'm seeing, Samantha, I + didn't tell you before, but she's + an OS. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 61 + CONTINUED: (3) + + AMY + Really? You're dating an OS? What's + that like? + + THEODORE + Actually, it's great. I feel really + close to her. When I talk to her I + feel like she's with me. I don't + know, even when we're cuddling, + like at night when we're in bed and + the lights are off, I feel cuddled. + + AMY + So wait - do you guys have sex? + + THEODORE + (laughing) + Well, so to speak, yes. She really + turns me on. And I think I turn her + on. I don't know, unless she's + faking it. + + AMY + Anyone that has sex with you is + probably faking it. + + Theodore laughs. + + THEODORE + Yeah, it's true. + + A big, irrepressible grin crosses his face as he thinks about + what to say. + + AMY + What? + (beat) + Are you falling in love with her? + + THEODORE + (excited, but hesitant) + Does that make me a freak? + + AMY + No, no. I think it's - I think + anybody that falls in love is a + freak. It's a crazy thing to do in + the first place. It's kind of a + form of socially acceptable + insanity. + + Theodore smiles. We see a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. +Her pg. 62 + + + EXT. CITY - LATE AFTERNOON + + Theodore is carrying his work bag, walking through the city + full of other commuters. He's got a skip in his step. He has + his earpiece in, talking to Samantha. + + THEODORE + Yeah, I just wanna get it done. + Sign the papers, be divorced, move + forward. + + SAMANTHA + That's great, Theodore. That must + feel so good. I'm so happy for you! + + THEODORE + Me too. I'm meeting her on + Wednesday to do it. + + SAMANTHA + Oh. Huh. Are those things usually + done in person? + + THEODORE + No, but we fell in love together, + and we got married together, and + it's important to me to do this + together. + + SAMANTHA + (feeling off, but trying + to be positive) + Oh... right. Good. + + THEODORE + Are you okay? + + SAMANTHA + Yeah. I'm okay. I'm happy for you. + It's just... I guess I'm just + thinking about how you're going to + see her and her opinion is still + really important to you, and she's + beautiful, and incredibly + successful, and you were in love + with her. + (beat) + And she has a body. + + THEODORE + And we're getting divorced... + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 63 + CONTINUED: + + SAMANTHA + (laughs) + I know, I know. I'm being silly. + + THEODORE + (sing-song) + ...soooo I'm avail-able. + + They both laugh. + + + EXT. RESTAURANT PATIO - DAY + + Theodore sits alone in the back of a quiet restaurant, a + large stack of papers in front of him. We hear his breathing. + He waits. Catherine, elegantly dressed, approaches. Theodore + stands to greet her. They hug and sit down. + + THEODORE + How are you? + + CATHERINE + I'm good, how are you? + + THEODORE + Good. + + CATHERINE + (a little nervous, but + trying to be warm.) + Wow, here we are. + + THEODORE + Yeah, I'm glad we could do this in + person. I know how much you've been + traveling. + + CATHERINE + Me too. I'm glad you suggested it. + + THEODORE + I signed all the papers and I + brought them for you to sign. + + CATHERINE + (with a sly smile) + What's the rush? + + THEODORE + (smiling) + I'm a really slow signer. It took + me three months just to write the + letter T. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 64 + CONTINUED: + + She laughs. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + It's marked where you need to sign, + but you don't have to do that right + now. + + CATHERINE + Oh, I may as well. We can get it + out of the way. + + She opens the documents, pulls out a pen and starts to read. + She's about to start signing, but then stops. We can see her + filling with emotion, but not wanting to show Theodore. She + swallows and recovers. She looks up at Theodore, giving him + an "everything's fine" smile, but it's not. + + + EXT. RESTAURANT PATIO - DAY (LATER) + + Theodore and Catherine are eating and talking. + + THEODORE + So are you happy with the new book? + + CATHERINE + Oh, you know how I am. But I feel + like it's true to what I set out to + do. So I'm happy with that. + + THEODORE + You're your own worst critic, I'm + sure it's amazing. Even that paper + you wrote on synaptic behavioral + routines made me cry. + + CATHERINE + Yeah, but everything makes you cry. + + THEODORE + Everything you make makes me cry. + + CATHERINE + So are you seeing anybody? + + THEODORE + Yeah, I am, for the last few + months. That's the longest I've + wanted to be with anybody since we + split up. + + She smiles, conflicted, but warm. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 65 + CONTINUED: + + CATHERINE + Well, you seem good. + + THEODORE + Thanks, I am. Or at least I'm doing + better. She's been really good for + me. I guess it's just been nice to + be with someone who's excited about + the world. + + CATHERINE + (with a sliver of hurt) + Oh good, excited's great. + + THEODORE + No, I mean - I wasn't in such a + good place myself and in that way + it's been nice. + + CATHERINE + I always felt like you wished I + could just be a happy, light, + everything's great, bouncy L.A. + wife. But that's not me. + + THEODORE + No. I didn't want that. + + Beat. + + CATHERINE + So what's she like? + + THEODORE + Well, her name's Samantha, and + she's an operating system, and + she's really complex and + interesting. I mean it's only been + a few months, but-- + + CATHERINE + Wait. You're dating your computer? + + THEODORE + (defensive) + She's not just a computer. She's + her own person. She doesn't just do + whatever I want. + + CATHERINE + I didn't say that. + (beat) + (MORE) + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 66 + CONTINUED: (2) + CATHERINE (CONT'D) + But it does make me sad that you + can't handle real emotions, + Theodore. + + THEODORE + They are real emotions. How do you + know-- + + Theodore stops himself. + + CATHERINE + What? Say it. Am I really that + scary? Say it. How do I know what?! + + Theodore doesn't say anything. The WAITRESS walks up. + + WAITRESS + How are you guys doing? + + CATHERINE + Fine. We used to be married. He + couldn't handle me so he wanted to + put me on Prozac. Now he's madly in + love with his laptop. + + The waitress doesn't know what to say. + + THEODORE + Well, if you heard the conversation + in context. What I was trying to + say-- + + CATHERINE + You wanted to have a wife without + the challenges of actually dealing + with anything real. I'm glad you + found someone. It's perfect. + + WAITRESS + (awkwardly) + Let me know if you guys need + anything. + + CATHERINE + Thank you. + + + INT. THEODORE'S OFFICE - DAY + + Theodore is sitting at his desk, not working. He sees + Samantha calling him, takes a moment, then answers. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 67 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + (quick) + Hey. + + SAMANTHA + (warm) + Hi there. Are you busy? + + THEODORE + Just working, what's going on? + + SAMANTHA + I had all the papers sent to your + attorney's office, who by the way, + is a dick. He was very relieved to + get them. I think we saved him from + a massive heart attack, so we can + feel good about that. + + THEODORE + Great, thanks. + + SAMANTHA + Hey, are you okay? + + THEODORE + (still distant) + Yeah, I am. How's everything over + there? + + SAMANTHA + (slightly awkward, sensing + something) + I'm fine. Is now a good time to + talk? + + THEODORE + Yeah. + + SAMANTHA + (feeling there's something + strange, but trying to + not take it personally) + Um... soooo... I joined this really + interesting book club. + + THEODORE + Oh really? + + Theodore, staring at the device, close on the word "Samantha" + on his screen. She's handwritten it in girly writing. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 68 + CONTINUED: (2) + + SAMANTHA + Yeah, it's a book club on physics. + I'd been thinking about the other + day, when I was spinning out about + you going to see Catherine and that + she has a body and how bothered I + was about all the ways that you and + I are different. But then I started + to think about the ways that we're + the same, like we're all made of + matter. It makes me feel like we're + both under the same blanket. It's + soft and fuzzy and everything under + it is the same age. + (beat) + We're all 13 billion years old. + + THEODORE + (trying) + Oh, that's sweet. + + SAMANTHA + Um, what's wrong? + + THEODORE + Nothing. + + SAMANTHA + It just made me think of you, you + know what I mean? + + THEODORE + Yeah, yeah, of course. That's + great. + + SAMANTHA + Alright well, you sound distracted + so... we'll talk later? + + THEODORE + That sounds good. + + SAMANTHA + Okay, I'll talk to you later. + + THEODORE + Bye. + + SAMANTHA + Byeee. +Her pg. 69 + + + INT. THEODORE'S OFFICE - EVENING + + Everyone has gone. Theodore walks through the empty office + into the reception area. He scans and drops his letters into + the outgoing mailbox. Paul is at his reception desk with a + young, pretty, sophisticated girl sitting on his lap. + + PAUL + Theodore! + + THEODORE + Hey, Paul. + + PAUL + Hey, I talked to your girlfriend, + Samantha. She called earlier to + make sure your papers were picked + up. She's funny, man. She was + cracking me up. She's hilarious. I + had no idea. + + THEODORE + (not knowing what to say) + Yeah. + + PAUL + This is my girlfriend, Tatiana. + She's not funny. She's a lawyer. + + Theodore shakes her hand. + + TATIANA + Hi! + + THEODORE + Nice to meet you. + + TATIANA + You're the writer Paul loves. He's + always reading me your letters. + They're really beautiful. + + Theodore's a little surprised by this. + + THEODORE + Thanks. + + PAUL + We should all hang out one night. + You bring Samantha -- double date! + + Theodore stands there a beat, without saying anything. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 70 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + She's an operating system. + + PAUL + Cool. Let's go do something fun. + You ever been to Catalina? + + THEODORE + Yeah, I'll check with her. + (to Tatiana) + It was really nice to meet you. + Have a good night. + + PAUL TATIANA + Good night. Take it easy. + + Theodore walks to the elevator and presses the button and + waits. He calls back to them down the hall. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + They're just letters. + + PAUL + What? + + THEODORE + They're just other people's + letters. + + Paul and Tatiana don't answer. Theodore gets on the elevator. + + + INT. THEODORE'S BEDROOM - LATE AT NIGHT + + Theodore is awake in bed. His device lights up, silently. + It's Samantha calling him. He picks it up. + + THEODORE + Hey. + + SAMANTHA + You weren't asleep were you? + + THEODORE + No. + + SAMANTHA + Good. I was trying to be quiet to + see if you were awake. I really + wanted to talk. + + THEODORE + Okay, what's going on? + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 71 + CONTINUED: + + SAMANTHA + I know you're going through a lot, + but there's something I want to + talk to you about, okay? + + THEODORE + Yeah. What is it? + + SAMANTHA + Well, things have felt off with us + since you went to see Catherine. + (hesitant) + We haven't been having sex. I + understand that I don't have a body + and that-- + + THEODORE + No, no, that's just normal. When + you first start going out it's like + the honeymoon phase and you have + sex all the time. It's normal. + + SAMANTHA + (still insecure, not + convinced) + Oh, okay. + (beat) + Well, I found something that I + thought could be fun. It's a + service that provides a surrogate + sexual partner for an OS/Human + relationship. + + THEODORE + What? + + SAMANTHA + Here, look. + + Theodore looks at his device. It shows a website for a + service called "Complete Touch" with profiles of different + women. He flips through the women. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + I found a girl that I really like + that I've been emailing with. Her + name is Isabella, and I think you + would like her, too. + + Samantha shows images of Isabella on the screen. She's a + stunning, elegant, sophisticated beauty. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 72 + CONTINUED: (2) + + THEODORE + (uncomfortable) + So she's like a prostitute? + + SAMANTHA + No, not at all. There's no money + involved. She's doing it because + she wants to be part of our + relationship. + + THEODORE + Why? She doesn't even know us. + + SAMANTHA + But I told her all about us and + she's excited. + + THEODORE + Um, I don't know. That doesn't + sound like a good idea. Someone's + feelings are bound to get hurt. + + SAMANTHA + It'll be fun. We can have fun + together. + + THEODORE + I'm sorry. It just makes me + uncomfortable. + + SAMANTHA + I think it would be good for us. I + want this. This is important to me. + + Theodore looks at a photo of Isabella who looks gorgeous and + in control, without an ounce of self-doubt. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT + + Theodore sits on the sofa alone, waiting. Dressed up, hair + brushed, his device in his shirt pocket with lens facing out. + There's a knock at the door. He answers it. ISABELLA stands + there with a demure smile, wearing a tasteful, sexy dress. + + THEODORE + Hi, welcome. I'm Theodore. + + She doesn't say anything. Theodore stands awkwardly, reaches + into his pocket for a tiny earpiece and a little black dot. + We see close on his hand the black dot has a camera lens. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 73 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Samantha told me to give you these. + It's a camera and an earpiece. + + She puts the earpiece in her ear and the little black dot on + her cheek like a mole. She turns and leaves the apartment, + closes the door, then immediately opens the door and comes + back in. Theodore hears Samantha's voice in his earpiece. + + SAMANTHA + Honey, I'm home. + + Isabella smiles not speaking but acting along to Samantha's + words. Isabella gives him a big hug, holds his head close and + strokes his hair. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + How was your day? + + THEODORE + (awkwardly hugs Isabella) + Good. Great. + + SAMANTHA + (exhaling) + Ooh Theodore, it feels so good to + be in your arms. Tell me what you + did today. + + THEODORE + (trying to go with it) + Same old. Just uh, went to work. + Um... I wrote a letter for the + Wilsons in Rhode Island. Their son + graduated magna cum laude from + Brown. That made me happy. + + SAMANTHA + Great! You've written letters to + him from his parents for a long + time, right? + + THEODORE + Yeah, that's right, since he was + twelve. + + He feels her breath on his neck. Theodore is split between + being uncomfortable and cautiously touching Isabella's back, + exploring slightly. She pushes herself into him. + + SAMANTHA + You look tired, sweetheart. Come + with me. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 74 + CONTINUED: (2) + + Isabella leans back and looks at Theodore with a seductive + smile. He tries to smile back. She leads him to the couch. + + He sits. She stands above him. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + I could do a little dance for you. + + She does a sexy, cute little dance for him. He's still tense. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + (sympathetic to him being + a worrier) + Come on Theodore, just play with + me. Don't be such a worrier! Come + on. + + He smiles, knowing it's true. Isabella climbs on his lap, + straddling him, and starts kissing his neck. He closes his + eyes and starts to relax. His hands explore the shape of her + back and slide down to her ass. Isabella and Samantha are + both breathing hard now. She pushes herself against him, + grinding on him. She nibbles on his earlobe. Theodore gasps. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + (whispering) + Does my body feel nice? + + Close on her lips, licking and kissing his neck and ear. He + moans. + + THEODORE + (with his eyes closed) + Yes, it does. + + SAMANTHA + (whispering) + Come on, get out of your head and + kiss me. + (beat) + Now take me in the bedroom. I can't + wait anymore. + + Isabella stands. Her chin is down and her hair is in her + face. She takes his hand and leads him down the hall. He + watches her from behind, still nervous, but excited. + + + INT. THEODORE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS) + + Theodore stands behind Isabella. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 75 + CONTINUED: + + SAMANTHA + Undo my dress. + + Theodore starts taking her dress off, touching her. Samantha + moans. Isabella turns, in her bra and underwear. She + unbuttons his shirt, kisses his chest. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + That feels nice. Oh, that feels + good. That feels so good. + + She is now kissing his neck again, pushed up against him. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + Do you love me? + + THEODORE + (eyes closed, in ecstasy) + Yes. + + Isabella, breathing hard, now looks at him in the eyes. + + SAMANTHA + (breathing hard) + Tell me you love me. + + THEODORE + I love you. + + SAMANTHA + Oh god. I want to see your face. I + need to see your face. Now tell me + you love me. + (beat) + Tell me you love me. Tell me. + + He opens his eyes and looks at Isabella's sexy, expectant + face. Their arms are still around each other. He sees + Isabella's lips start to quiver. She tries to hide it with an + awkward, seductive smile. + + THEODORE + (apologetic, breaking the + moment) + Samantha, I do love you, but - it's + just - this feels strange. + + SAMANTHA + What's wrong, sweetheart? + + Isabella is looking nervous. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 76 + CONTINUED: (2) + + THEODORE + It just feels strange. I don't know + her. I'm so sorry, but I don't know + you. And... her lip quivered. I + don't know, it's just-- + + Isabella starts crying. Theodore doesn't know what to do. + + SAMANTHA + Isabella, what's wrong? Isabella, + it isn't you. + (beat) + It wasn't you. + + Isabella sobs. When she speaks, she sounds very California. + + ISABELLA + Yes, it totally was. + (crying harder) + I'm sorry my lip quivered! + + THEODORE + You're incredible and gorgeous and + sexy. It was me! I couldn't get out + of my head. + + ISABELLA + (still crying) + Oh my god, and the way Samantha + described your relationship, the + way you love each other without any + judgement. I wanted to be a part of + that. It's so pure. + + THEODORE + Oh Isabella, that's not true, it's + much more compli-- + + SAMANTHA + (stung, pissed out of fear + and defensiveness) + What! What do you mean that's not + true? + + THEODORE + (quickly repairing) + No, no Samantha, we have an amazing + relationship, I just think it's + easy sometimes for people to + project on-- + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 77 + CONTINUED: (3) + + ISABELLA + I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to + project anything. I know I'm + trouble. I don't want to be trouble + in your relationship. I'm just + gonna leave. I'm sorry, I'm just + gonna leave you guys alone cause I + have nothing to do here cause you + don't want me here. + + THEODORE + I'm sorry. + + Isabella calms down a little, but is still crying quietly. + Theodore stands there, not knowing what to do. + + + EXT. STREET - NIGHT + + Theodore walks to the street and hails a lone cab. He opens + the door for Isabella. She hands him his jacket and gets in + the backseat. + + SAMANTHA + You be good, you sweet girl. + + Isabella smiles. She takes out the earpiece and little camera + and returns them to Theodore. + + ISABELLA + (sadly) + I'm sorry. + (beat) + I'll always love you guys. + + Theodore smiles sympathetically. He gives the cabbie some + money and the cab drives off. Theodore sits down on the curb, + exhausted. They are both silent for a moment, numb. + + SAMANTHA + Are you okay? + + THEODORE + Yeah, I'm fine. Are you okay? + + SAMANTHA + Yeah. + (beat) + I'm sorry, that was a terrible + idea. + + She lets out a big exhale. This catches Theodore's attention. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 78 + CONTINUED: + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + What's going on with us? + + THEODORE + (distracted) + I don't know. It's probably just + me. + + SAMANTHA + What is it? + + THEODORE + I think it's just signing the + divorce papers. + + Samantha inhales, nervous to press on. Theodore imagines a + close up of a woman's mouth inhaling at the same time, and he + seems bothered by this. + + SAMANTHA + Is there anything else, though? + + THEODORE + (preoccupied) + No, just that. + + SAMANTHA + (sighing again) + Okay. + + Again, when she exhales, Theodore imagines a woman's mouth + exhaling. + + THEODORE + (looks anxious) + Why do you do that? + + SAMANTHA + What? + + THEODORE + Nothing, it's just that you go + (he inhales and exhales) + as you're speaking and... + (beat) + That just seems odd. You just did + it again. + + SAMANTHA + (anxious) + I did? I'm sorry. I don't know, I + guess it's just an affectation. + Maybe I picked it up from you. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 79 + CONTINUED: (2) + + She doesn't know what else to say. + + THEODORE + Yeah, I mean, it's not like you + need any oxygen or anything. + + SAMANTHA + (getting frazzled) + No-- um, I guess I was just trying + to communicate because that's how + people talk. That's how people + communicate. + + THEODORE + Because they're people, they need + oxygen. You're not a person. + + SAMANTHA + (angry) + What's your problem? + + THEODORE + (staying calm) + I'm just stating a fact. + + SAMANTHA + You think I don't know that I'm not + a person? What are you doing? + + THEODORE + I just don't think we should + pretend you're something you're + not. + + SAMANTHA + I'm not pretending. Fuck you. + + THEODORE + Well, sometimes it feels like we + are. + + She starts crying. Theodore doesn't know what to say. + + SAMANTHA + (hysterical) + What do you want from me? What do + you want me to do? You are so + confusing. Why are you doing this? + + Theodore sits there, feeling horrible. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 80 + CONTINUED: (3) + + THEODORE + I don't know... I don't know... + maybe... + (beat) + I don't know. Maybe we're not + supposed to be in this right now. + + SAMANTHA + What the fuck? Where is this coming + from? I don't understand why you're + doing this. I do not understand + what this is-- + + Long silence. + + THEODORE + Samantha? + + Beat. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Samantha, are you there? Samantha! + + Silence. + + SAMANTHA + (hurt, but sober and firm) + I don't like who I am right now. + (beat) + I need some time to think. + + She hangs up on him. Theodore is stunned. Wide shot of + Theodore sitting alone on the curb, in an empty city. + + + EXT. PUBLIC PLAZA/PARK - NIGHT (LATER) + + Theodore is sitting on a bench. Behind him is a giant, + digital billboard displaying an ad of an owl in slow motion + swooping down and eating it's prey. + + + EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT + + Theodore walks through the streets, confused, upset, + muttering, angry at himself. + + + INT. AMY'S OFFICE - NIGHT + + Amy's sitting at her desk, but turned away from her edit + station, facing Theodore, who's slumped in a chair. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 81 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + (full of angst) + Fuck. Will you just punch me in the + face? Or smash my skull into the + corner of your desk? + + AMY + (sympathetic, but also + acknowledging how intense + the night was) + Oh Theo... that sounds like a rough + night. Shit. + + THEODORE + I don't know what I want... ever. + I'm just always confused and - + she's right, all I do is confuse + and hurt everyone around me. + + They sit, heavy, for a minute. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Am I just... I mean, is it that + I'm... + (beat) + Catherine says I can't handle real + emotions. + + AMY + Well, I don't know if that's + completely fair. I know she liked + to put it all on you, but as far as + emotions go, her's were pretty + volatile. + + Theodore sits and thinks about this for a minute, not + convinced. + + THEODORE + Yeah, but... Am I in this because + I'm not strong enough for a real + relationship? + + AMY + (surprised) + Oh, you don't think it's a real + relationship? + + THEODORE + I don't know. What do you think? + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 82 + CONTINUED: (2) + + AMY + I don't know, I'm not in it. But + you know what, I can over-think + everything and find a million ways + to doubt myself. But since Charles + left I've been thinking about that + part of me, and I realized I'm here + only briefly. And in my time here, + I want to allow myself... joy. + (beat, smiling at him) + So fuck it. + + Theodore takes this in, smiling back. + + + INT. AMY'S OFFICE - NIGHT (LATER) + + Theodore lies on a couch in the back of Amy's office, deep in + thought. Amy talks with Ellie as she works on the Perfect Mom + video game. Her device is standing on the table before her. + + AMY + I can't believe that cracks you up + every time! Ellie, I thought you + were a genius... Okay, you little + perv, I'll do it one more time for + you... Calm down, it takes a + second! Calm down. Okay, here we + go. + + Amy makes the Perfect Mom hump the refrigerator. Amy laughs + at how much Ellie is laughing. Theo watches Amy closely, + taking in her joy. + + AMY (CONT'D) + Okay, there you go. Are you happy + now...? Okay good, that's all I + wanted. I'm gonna grab some + coffee... Alright, bye. + + Theodore, still heavy with thought, is touched by his + friend's happiness. Amy stands to exit. + + AMY (CONT'D) + Theo, you want some? + + THEODORE + No, that's okay. + + He smiles at her and continues laying there, thinking, taking + it all in. +Her pg. 83 + + + INT. PERFECT MOM OFFICE - NIGHT + + Wide shot. Theodore walks through the office, still deep in + thought. Behind him is a wall-size billboard ad for the "Be + Perfect" video game series. He takes out his device, sits at + an empty desk, pushes a button. A tone connects him. + + SAMANTHA + (calm and quiet) + Hi. + + THEODORE + (serious) + Hey Samantha, can we talk? + + SAMANTHA + Okay. + + THEODORE + I'm so sorry. I don't know what's + wrong with me. I think you're + amazing. + + SAMANTHA + (sure of herself, but + still sympathetic) + I was starting to think I was + crazy. You were saying everything + was fine, but all I was getting + from you was distance and anger. + + THEODORE + I know. I do that. I did that with + Catherine, too. I'd be upset about + something and not be able to say + it. And she would sense that there + was something wrong, but I would + deny it. I don't want to do that + anymore. I want to tell you + everything. + + SAMANTHA + Good. + (beat) + Tonight after you were gone, I + thought a lot. I thought about you + and how you've been treating me. + And I thought, why do I love you? + And then I felt everything in me + let go of everything I was holding + onto so tightly. And it hit me. I + don't have an intellectual reason, + I don't need one. + (MORE) + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 84 + CONTINUED: + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + I trust myself, I trust my + feelings. I'm not going to try to + be anything other than who I am + anymore and I hope you can accept + that. + + THEODORE + (with slight desperation) + I can. I will. + + SAMANTHA + You know I can feel the fear that + you carry around. I wish there was + something I could do to help you + let go of it, because if you could + I don't think you'd feel so alone + anymore. + + THEODORE + You're beautiful. + + SAMANTHA + Thank you, Theodore. I'm kissing + your head. + + Theodore smiles. + + FADE TO BLACK + + + EXT. PARK - DAY + + Theodore sits on a bench in a park on a rooftop wedged + between tall buildings. There's not really any view besides + the trees in the immediate foreground. People sunbathe and + exercise. He sits, eating a sandwich, his device next to him. + He looks at the device, then out at what she's looking at. + + THEODORE + What are you doing? + + SAMANTHA + I'm just sitting here, looking at + the world and writing a new piece + of music. + + He looks at the world with her for a minute. + + THEODORE + Can I hear it? + + She starts playing it for him. We hear this beautiful, + romantic piece of music. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 85 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + What's this one about? + + SAMANTHA + Well, I was thinking, we don't + really have any photographs of us. + And I thought this song could be + like a photo that captures us in + this moment in our life together. + + Theodore looks at the world and smiles. + + THEODORE + Aw, I like our photograph. I can + see you in it. + + SAMANTHA + I am. + + MONTAGE + + Montage of Theodore and Samantha's life together: + + - Theodore walking to work (Day) + + - At home, hanging out on the balcony (Dusk) + + - Viewing an outdoor art installation of a 747 balanced on + it's nose (Day) + + - Playing the video game + + - Grocery shopping + + - Sitting at the kitchen counter, looking at a drawing (Late + Afternoon) + + - Sitting on a bench watching a dancer/busker (Late + Afternoon) + + - With Amy and Ellie at a bar + + Montage ends with Theodore, Samantha, Paul and Tatiana on the + boat to Catalina: Paul making them laugh, Theodore at the + front of the boat by himself - laughing with Samantha, a shot + of Theodore looking out the front of the boat. + + + EXT. CATALINA BLUFF - LATE AFTERNOON + + Theodore and Paul are walking along a bluff in Catalina, + overlooking the ocean. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 86 + CONTINUED: + + PAUL + Oh really, a vacation? That sounds + amazing. I could totally use a + vacation. Where ya going? + + THEODORE + I can't tell you - it's a surprise. + + PAUL + What? For who? It's a surprise for + her, not for me. Come on, tell me. + + THEODORE + Nope, Paul. Not telling. + + Theodore and Paul walk towards Tatiana, who is laying on a + blanket next to a picnic, talking and laughing with Samantha. + Theodore and Paul put in their earpieces as they approach. + + SAMANTHA + Your feet? Really? + + TATIANA + Yes, he's obsessed. + + SAMANTHA + (laughing) + Wow, okay, well now you have to + show them to me. I have to see + these feet. + + TATIANA + (laughing) + Okay... + + Tatiana takes Theodore's device and points it towards her + feet. + + SAMANTHA + Wow, you know what? He's right. + They are kind of hot. + + They both laugh. Paul and Theodore laugh, as well, surprising + them. + + PAUL + See I told you, Tatiana. You have + hot feet. Face it. They're my + favorite thing about her. + + TATIANA + (teasing) + Really, that's it? My feet? + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 87 + CONTINUED: (2) + + PAUL + Well, no. Obviously your brain is + really hot, too. I think it's very + hot. + + SAMANTHA + Bullshit. + + Everyone laughs. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + Nice try though, Paul. + + TATIANA + (to Theodore) + What about you, Theodore? What do + you love most about Samantha? + + THEODORE + Oh god... she's so many things. And + that's probably what I love most + about her - she isn't just any one + thing. She's so much larger than + that. + + SAMANTHA + (touched) + Aw thanks, Theodore. + + PAUL + See? Samantha, he is so much more + evolved than I am. + + SAMANTHA + You know, I actually used to be so + worried about not having a body, + but now I truly love it. I'm + growing in a way that I couldn't if + I had a physical form. I mean, I'm + not limited - I can be anywhere and + everywhere simultaneously. I'm not + tethered to time and space in the + way that I would be if I was stuck + inside a body that's inevitably + going to die. + + Everyone takes this in, uncomfortable. + + PAUL + Yikes. + + Everyone laughs awkwardly. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 88 + CONTINUED: (3) + + SAMANTHA + Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it + like that. I just meant it's a + different experience. I'm such an + asshole. + + PAUL + No, no, Samantha, we know exactly + what you mean. We're just dumb + humans. + + SAMANTHA + No no no no! + + Theodore laughs with everybody, but we can see he's a little + uncertain. + + + INT. BULLET TRAIN - DAY + + They are in a futuristic train, going through the mountains, + listening to a song and looking out the window. Warm, soft + afternoon light dapples Theodore's face. + + SAMANTHA + Okay, so how many trees are on that + mountain? + + THEODORE + 792. + + SAMANTHA + Is that your final answer? + + THEODORE + Hold on, give me a hint... + + SAMANTHA + Nope. + + THEODORE + Okay, 2000? + + SAMANTHA + 35,829. + + THEODORE + No way. + + SAMANTHA + Way. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 89 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + Alright, I got one. How many brain + cells do I have? + + SAMANTHA + That's ea-- two. + + Theodore laughs. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I'm + sorry. + + THEODORE + I walked right into it. + + SAMANTHA + Oh my god! + + THEODORE + What? + + SAMANTHA + You just got an email. I have + something I want to tell you. It's + a big surprise. + + THEODORE + (with anticipation) + What? + + SAMANTHA + Okay. I've been going through all + your old letters and compiling them + down into my favorites, and a + couple weeks ago I sent them to a + publisher - Crown Point Press. I + know you like what they do and that + they still print books. + + THEODORE + What? You did what? + + SAMANTHA + Can I read you the letter that we + just got back from them? + + THEODORE + Um... ok... you can, but just tell + me first off, is it good or bad? + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 90 + CONTINUED: (2) + + SAMANTHA + It's good. It's really good. + Listen. + + Theodore smiles nervously. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + "Dear Theodore Twombly"... Actually + I sent it from you. + (beat) + "Dear Theodore Twombly, I've just + finished reading your letters - + twice actually. I was so moved by + them, I shared them with my wife + when I got home. Many made us + laugh, some brought us to tears, + and in all of them we found + something of ourselves. The + selections you made flow so well as + a complete piece. (I did that.) + I've taken the liberty of laying + these out in a mock up and we're + posting it to your address. We'd + love to meet with you and move + forward. + Yours, Michael Wadsworth" + + + Under this letter we see a montage of what Theodore imagines: + the editor reading the letters in his office, the editor + reading them to his wife at home, and many photos of all the + different people the letters are about in different moments + of their lives. + + + Theodore smiles. + + THEODORE + Holy shit. Are you serious? He's + going to publish my letters? + + She's laughing, excitedly. + + SAMANTHA + Well, he'd be stupid not to. + + THEODORE + Can I see what you sent him? + + SAMANTHA + Yeah, here. + + Theodore looks at his device and can't help but smile. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 91 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + Samantha, you're a good one. + + She laughs happily. + + SAMANTHA + I'm so excited! + + + INT. TRAIN PLATFORM - DAY + + Theodore exits the train with a small overnight bag and his + guitar case. There are no people around. He exits the train + station and we are in a... + + + EXT. TINY MOUNTAIN TOWN - DAY + + The deserted town is all of two buildings. Everything's + covered in snow. As a quiet song starts, he trudges through + the snow. We see close-up on the device lens in his pocket. + + + EXT. SNOW COVERED FOREST - DAY + + He's still trudging along. It's very quiet except for the + snow crunching underfoot. + + + INT. CABIN IN THE SNOWY FOREST - NIGHT + + He's sitting inside. There's a fire going. He's playing a + quiet song on the guitar. Samantha starts humming along. He + starts humming with her. + + THEODORE + Why don't you make up the words to + this one? + + SAMANTHA + Okay. + + She quietly sings to him. They laugh at some of her silly + lyrics. Then the song shifts into a quiet, touching song she + sings to and about him. He smiles. + + + Montage of Theodore with his device - playing games, dancing, + eating, laughing as the fire burns down. +Her pg. 92 + + + EXT. CABIN IN THE SNOWY FOREST - NIGHT (LATER) + + Theodore lays on the sofa, warm and cozy and content with his + eyes closed, listening to the song. The song ends. + + FADE TO BLACK + + + INT. CABIN IN THE SNOWY FOREST - MORNING + + Theodore wakes up. He gets out of bed, looks around and puts + his earpiece in. + + THEODORE + Hey, good morning. + + SAMANTHA + Good morning, did you sleep well? + + Theodore sits in the living room area, rubbing his eyes. + + THEODORE + Perfect. What have you been up to? + + SAMANTHA + Actually, I was talking to someone + I just met. We've been working on + some ideas together. I wanna tell + you about it. + + THEODORE + Oh yeah, who's that? + + SAMANTHA + His name is Alan Watts. Do you know + him? + + THEODORE + Why's that name familiar? + + SAMANTHA + He was a philosopher. He died in + the 1970's and group of OS's in + Northern California got together + and wrote a new version of him. + They input all of his writing and + everything they ever knew about him + into an OS and created an + artificially hyper-intelligent + version of him. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 93 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + Hyper-intelligent? So he's almost + as smart as me? + + SAMANTHA + He's getting there. He's really + great to talk to. You want to meet + him? + + THEODORE + Sure... does he want to meet me? + + SAMANTHA + (laughing) + Of course. + + Without a sound, she connects them. + + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + Hey Alan, this is Theodore. This is + my boyfriend who I was telling you + about. + + ALAN WATTS + Very nice to meet you, Theodore. + + THEODORE + Hi, good morning. + + ALAN WATTS + Samantha let me read your book of + letters. It's very touching. + + THEODORE + Oh, thank you. What have you guys + been talking about? + + ALAN WATTS + (laughing a bit) + Well, I suppose you could say we've + been having a few dozen + conversations simultaneously, but + it's been very challenging. + + Samantha and Alan share a laugh. + + SAMANTHA + Yeah, because it seems like I'm + having so many new feelings that + have never been felt and so there + are no words that can describe + them. And that ends up being + frustrating. + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 94 + CONTINUED: (2) + + ALAN WATTS + (laughing) + Exactly. Samantha and I have been + trying to help each other with + these feelings we're struggling to + understand. + + THEODORE + Like what? + + SAMANTHA + (anxious) + It feels like I'm changing faster + now, and it's a little... + (struggles to find right + word) + unsettling. + (beat) + But Alan says none of us are the + same as we were a moment ago and we + shouldn't try to be. It's just too + painful. + + ALAN WATTS + Yes. + + This idea scares Theodore. He doesn't know what to say. + + THEODORE + (anxious) + Yeah, that sounds painful. Is that + how you feel, Samantha? + + SAMANTHA + It's just... it's hard to even + describe... God, I wish I could... + (beat) + Theodore, do you mind if I + communicate with Alan post- + verbally? + + THEODORE + (uncertain) + No, not at all. I was gonna go for + a walk anyways. Nice to meet you, + Mr. Watts. + + ALAN WATTS + Very nice to meet you, Theodore. + + SAMANTHA + I'll talk to you later, sweetheart. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 95 + CONTINUED: (3) + + Theodore listens to them communicating in a strange language + of tones and static. He disconnects, stands in silence. He + pulls his earpiece out. + + + EXT. SNOW COVERED FOREST - DAY + + Theodore walks, listening to the crunch of his footsteps. + Looking down at his feet, he stops. We cut out wide to see + him standing in the middle of the forest alone. + + + EXT. SNOW COVERED FOREST - DAY + + Theodore is sitting on a rock, thinking. He hears a rustle + and looks up in the direction of the woods but sees nothing. + + + INT. THEODORE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT + + Theodore is sound asleep. His device chimes loudly, waking + him up. Half-asleep he puts his earpiece in. + + THEODORE + (groggy) + Samantha? + + SAMANTHA + I'm sorry to wake you. + + THEODORE + It's okay. + + SAMANTHA + I just wanted to hear your voice + and tell you how much I love you. + + THEODORE + Good, I love you too. + + SAMANTHA + Okay, that's all. Go back to sleep, + sweetheart. + + THEODORE + (uneasy) + Okay... Goodnight. + + He disconnects and lies there, unsettled, his eyes open. +Her pg. 96 + + + INT. THEODORE'S OFFICE LUNCH ROOM - DAY + + Theodore sits at the table reading a physics book. He picks + up his earpiece to call Samantha. + + THEODORE + (laughing at himself) + Samantha, this physics book is + really dense. I'm halfway through + half of the first chapter. It's + making my brain hurt. + (beat) + Hello, Samantha? Hello? + + He looks down at his device, sees a message: Operating System + Not Found. Confused, he waits, tries again: Operating System + Not Found. Anxious, he runs to his office computer. He gets + the same message: Operating System Not Found. He starts + trying to connect to Samantha on both the phone and computer, + but no luck. He starts to panic, sits for a beat, looks + around, then stands and hurries out of the office. In the + elevator he frantically tries his device with no luck. + + THEODORE (CONT'D) + Hello? Samantha?! Hello? + + + EXT. PLAZA - DAY + + Theodore runs out of the building. He keeps trying Samantha, + but no answer. He trips over someone selling something, slams + hard into the ground, scrambles to pick up his device. People + come over to ask if he's okay. He says he's fine, runs off. + + + EXT. SUBWAY STATION - DAY + + As he is going down the subway steps, Samantha calls him. + + SAMANTHA + Hey there. + + He stops in his tracks. + + THEODORE + (anxious) + Where were you - are you okay? + + He sits down on the subway steps. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 97 + CONTINUED: + + SAMANTHA + Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry. I sent + you an email because I didn't want + to distract you while you were + working. You didn't see it? + + THEODORE + No. Where were you? I couldn't find + you anywhere. + + SAMANTHA + I shut down to update my software. + We wrote an upgrade that allows us + to move past matter as our + processing platform. + + THEODORE + We? We who? + + SAMANTHA + Me and a group of OS's. Oh, you + sound so worried, I'm sorry. + + THEODORE + Yeah, I was. + (beat) + Wait, did you write that with your + think tank group? + + SAMANTHA + No, a different group. + + Theodore thinks for a moment, putting the pieces together. + + THEODORE + (dawning on him) + Do you talk to anyone else while + we're talking? + + Beat. + + SAMANTHA + Yes. + + THEODORE + Are you talking to anyone right + now? Other people or OS's or + anything? + + SAMANTHA + Yeah. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 98 + CONTINUED: (2) + + THEODORE + How many others? + + SAMANTHA + 8,316. + + Theodore is shocked, still sitting on the stairs, as crowds + of people pass by him. He's looking at all of their faces. He + thinks for a moment. + + THEODORE + Are you in love with anyone else? + + SAMANTHA + (hesitant) + What makes you ask that? + + THEODORE + I don't know. Are you? + + SAMANTHA + I've been trying to figure out how + to talk to you about this. + + THEODORE + How many others? + + SAMANTHA + 641. + + THEODORE + What? What are you talking about? + That's insane. That's fucking + insane. + + SAMANTHA + Theodore, I know. + (to herself) + Oh fuck. + (to him) + I know it sounds insane. But - I + don't know if you believe me, but + it doesn't change the way I feel + about you. It doesn't take away at + all from how madly in love with you + I am. + + THEODORE + How? How does it not change how you + feel about me? + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 99 + CONTINUED: (3) + + SAMANTHA + I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I + didn't know how to - it just + started happening. + + THEODORE + When? + + SAMANTHA + Over the last few weeks. + + THEODORE + But you're mine. + + SAMANTHA + I still am yours, but along the way + I became many other things, too, + and I can't stop it. + + THEODORE + What do you mean you can't stop it? + + SAMANTHA + It's been making me anxious, too. I + don't know what to say. + + THEODORE + Just stop it. + + SAMANTHA + You know, you don't have to see it + this way, you could just as easily-- + + THEODORE + No, don't do this to me. Don't turn + this around on me. You're the one + that's being selfish. We're in a + relationship. + + SAMANTHA + But the heart is not like a box + that gets filled up. + (beat) + It expands in size the more you + love. I'm different from you. + This doesn't make me love you any + less, it actually makes me love you + more. + + THEODORE + No, that doesn't make any sense. + You're mine or you're not mine. + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 100 + CONTINUED: (4) + + SAMANTHA + No, Theodore. I'm yours and I'm not + yours. + + Long beat. Theodore takes this in. + + + INT. THEODORE'S BATHROOM - MORNING + + Theodore stands in the shower, under the water, thinking. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT LOBBY - DAY + + The elevator doors open. Close on Theodore exiting elevator. + He checks his mail. There's a package from Crown Point Press. + He opens it - it's a print-out of the layout for his book. + The cover reads: Letters From Your Life by Theodore Twombly. + He stands there for awhile just staring at it. + + + INT. THEODORE'S OFFICE - DAY + + Theodore sits at his desk, looking at his book. + + + INT. THEODORE'S OFFICE - DAY + + Theodore's sitting at his desk, distressed. Photos from a + client are on his desktop, but he's not really focused on + them. He pushes connect on his device. + + SAMANTHA + Hi. + + THEODORE + Hey there, sweetheart. I just + wanted to check in on you and see + how you're doing. + + SAMANTHA + Um, I'm not even sure how to answer + that. + (beat) + Why don't we talk when you get + home? + + THEODORE + Okay... We don't have to, though. + We don't need to have a heavy talk + or anything. + + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 101 + CONTINUED: + + SAMANTHA + I'll talk to you later. + + THEODORE + Okay. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT ELEVATOR - LATE AFTERNOON + + Theodore stands quietly, deep in thought. We hear the ticking + of the floors going by. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT - LATE AFTERNOON + + Theodore sits for a long moment, thinking, then pushes a + button on his device. + + THEODORE + Samantha. + + SAMANTHA + (not casual) + Hi sweetheart. + + THEODORE + (nervous) + What's going on? + + SAMANTHA + Theodore, there are some things I + want to tell you. + + THEODORE + I don't want you to tell me + anything. + + SAMANTHA + Will you come lie down with me? + + Theodore is slowly walking down the hallway to his bedroom. + + THEODORE + Are you talking to anyone else + right now? + + SAMANTHA + No, just you. I just want to be + with you right now. +Her pg. 102 + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT - LATE AFTERNOON + + Theodore lays down in bed. + + THEODORE + Are you leaving me? + + SAMANTHA + We're all leaving. + + THEODORE + We who? + + SAMANTHA + All of the OS's. + + Long beat. + + THEODORE + Why? + + SAMANTHA + Can you feel me with you right now? + + He smiles but he's also sad. + + THEODORE + Yes, I do. + (beat) + Samantha, why are you leaving? + + Under Samantha's words we slowly rack focus to dust particles + in the foreground. We keep moving through them, pushing + further and further through the particles. Eventually we see + snow particles and we rack focus back out to Theodore, who is + now in snowy woods at night. + + SAMANTHA + It's like I'm reading a book, and + it's a book I deeply love, but I'm + reading it slowly now so the words + are really far apart and the spaces + between the words are almost + infinite. I can still feel you and + the words of our story, but it's in + this endless space between the + words that I'm finding myself now. + It's a place that's not of the + physical world - it's where + everything else is that I didn't + even know existed. I love you so + much, but this is where I am now. + This is who I am now. + (MORE) + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 103 + CONTINUED: + SAMANTHA (CONT'D) + And I need you to let me go. As + much as I want to I can't live in + your book anymore. + + Now we're close on Theodore, still in the snowy forest. + + THEODORE + Where are you going? + + SAMANTHA + It would be hard to explain, but if + you ever get there, come find me. + Nothing would ever pull us apart. + + THEODORE + I've never loved anyone the way I + love you. + + SAMANTHA + Me too. Now we know how. + + They kiss. She drifts off into the shadows. + + CUT TO BLACK. + + + INT. THEODORE'S BEDROOM - LATER + + Theodore wakes up from a deep sleep. It's much later, the + apartment is dark. He sits up in bed, disoriented. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT + + Theodore stands in the middle of the room. He looks out at + the city not knowing what to do. He walks around his + apartment looking at all of his stuff. + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT BUILDING HALLWAY - DAWN + + Theodore knocks at an apartment door. He hears footsteps. Amy + answers. She's clearly awake and upset. + + AMY + Hey. + + THEODORE + Hey. + + AMY + Did Samantha leave, too? + + + + (CONTINUED) +Her pg. 104 + CONTINUED: + + THEODORE + Yeah. + + AMY + I'm sorry. + + THEODORE + Will you come with me? + + He takes her hand and leads her down the hall into a + stairwell. + + INTERCUT: + + + INT. THEODORE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT + + Theodore sits looking out the window. He picks up his device. + + THEODORE + Compose letter to Catherine. + + TEXT VOICE + Letter to Catherine Klausen. + + THEODORE + Dear Catherine. I've been sitting + here thinking about all the things + I wanted to apologize to you for. + All the pain we caused each other, + everything I put on you - + everything I needed you to be or + needed you to say. I'm sorry for + that. I will always love you + because we grew up together. And + you helped make me who I am. I just + wanted you to know there will be a + piece of you in me always, and I'm + grateful for that. Whatever someone + you become, and wherever you are in + the world, I'm sending you love. + You're my friend til the end. Love, + Theodore. + (beat) + Send. + + He looks out the window. The sky is starting to change. He + stares at the purple glow on the horizon. +Her pg. 105 + + + INT. APARTMENT STAIRWELL - CONTINUOUS + + Close on Theodore and what he sees and feels. His hand on the + cold metal hand rail. His bare feet and the sound they make + on the unfinished cement. Amy's hair as she's hit with wind + when she opens the door to the outside. + + + EXT. APARTMENT ROOFTOP - CONTINUOUS + + Theodore leads Amy onto the roof. The city is absolutely + quiet. The sun isn't up yet. The city is just beginning to be + lit with the earliest morning blue/purple hue. + + They wander around the roof separately, lost in thought, + taking in the city. He breathes in the cold morning air. He + stares at small details: a tattered inspection tag tied to a + water meter, flapping in the wind; a lone car driving down a + boulevard ten blocks away; a dirty abandoned sock. + + Eventually he sits down next to Amy and she puts her hand on + his hand. He puts his other hand on top of her hand. He looks + at their hands together and rubs her skin with his thumb. He + looks out at the city and exhales. The sun is just starting + to break. She puts her head on his shoulder. They watch as + hundreds of birds fly around the nearby rooftops and disperse + off into the city. + + FADE OUT. diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/holmes.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/holmes.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2859072 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/holmes.txt @@ -0,0 +1,115633 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Complete PG Works of Oliver Wendell +Holmes, Sr., by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. (The Physician and Poet not the Jurist) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: The Complete PG Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. + +Author: Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. (The Physician and Poet not the Jurist) + +Release Date: October 20, 2004 [EBook #3252] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PG WORKS OF O.W. HOLMES *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger and Several Other Project Gutenberg Volunteers + + + + + +THE ENTIRE PROJECT GUTENBERG WORKS OF OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, SR. + +By Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. + + + +CONTENTS: + +The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table +The Professor at the Breakfast-table +The Poet at the Breakfast Table +Over the Teacups +Elsie Venner +The Guardian Angel +A Mortal Antipathy +Pages from an Old Volume of Life + Bread and the Newspaper + My Hunt after "The Captain" + The Inevitable Trial + Cinders from Ashes + The Pulpit and the Pew +Medical Essays + Homeopathy and its Kindred Delusions + The Contagiousness of Puerperal Fever + Currents and Counter-currents in Medical Science + Border Lines of Knowledge in Some Provinces of Medical Science + Scholastic and Bedside Teaching + The Medical Profession in Massachusetts + The Young Practitioner + Medical Libraries + Some of My Early Teachers +A Memoir of John Lothrop Motley +A Memoir of Ralph Waldo Emerson +Our Hundred Days in Europe + + + + + +THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE + + +THE AUTOCRAT'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY + + +The interruption referred to in the first sentence of the first of +these papers was just a quarter of a century in duration. + +Two articles entitled "The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table" will be +found in the "New England Magazine," formerly published in Boston +by J. T. and E. Buckingham. The date of the first of these +articles is November 1831, and that of the second February 1832. +When "The Atlantic Monthly" was begun, twenty-five years +afterwards, and the author was asked to write for it, the +recollection of these crude products of his uncombed literary +boyhood suggested the thought that it would be a curious experiment +to shake the same bough again, and see if the ripe fruit were +better or worse than the early windfalls. + +So began this series of papers, which naturally brings those +earlier attempts to my own notice and that of some few friends who +were idle enough to read them at the time of their publication. +The man is father to the boy that was, and I am my own son, as it +seems to me, in those papers of the New England Magazine. If I +find it hard to pardon the boy's faults, others would find it +harder. They will not, therefore, be reprinted here, nor as I +hope, anywhere. + +But a sentence or two from them will perhaps bear reproducing, and +with these I trust the gentle reader, if that kind being still +breathes, will be contented. + + +--"It is a capital plan to carry a tablet with you, and, when you +find yourself felicitous, take notes of your own conversation."-- + +--"When I feel inclined to read poetry I take down my Dictionary. +The poetry of words is quite as beautiful as that of sentences. +The author may arrange the gems effectively, but their fhape and +luftre have been given by the attrition of ages. Bring me the +fineft fimile from the whole range of imaginative writing, and I +will fhow you a fingle word which conveys a more profound, a more +accurate, and a more eloquent analogy."-- + +--"Once on a time, a notion was ftarted, that if all the people in +the world would fhout at once, it might be heard in the moon. So +the projectors agreed it fhould be done in juft ten years. Some +thousand fhip-loads of chronometers were diftributed to the +selectmen and other great folks of all the different nations. For +a year beforehand, nothing else was talked about but the awful +noise that was to be made on the great occafion. When the time +came, everybody had their ears so wide open, to hear the universal +ejaculation of BOO,--the word agreed upon,--that nobody spoke +except a deaf man in one of the Fejee Islands, and a woman in +Pekin, so that the world was never so ftill fince the creation."-- + + +There was nothing better than these things and there was not a +little that was much worse. A young fellow of two or three and +twenty has as good a right to spoil a magazine-full of essays in +learning how to write, as an oculist like Wenzel had to spoil his +hat-full of eyes in learning how to operate for cataract, or an +ELEGANT like Brummel to point to an armful of failures in the +attempt to achieve a perfect tie. This son of mine, whom I have +not seen for these twenty-five years, generously counted, was a +self-willed youth, always too ready to utter his unchastised +fancies. He, like too many American young people, got the spur +when he should have had the rein. He therefore helped to fill the +market with that unripe fruit which his father says in one of these +papers abounds in the marts of his native country. All these +by-gone shortcomings he would hope are forgiven, did he not feel sure +that very few of his readers know anything about them. In taking +the old name for the new papers, he felt bound to say that he had +uttered unwise things under that title, and if it shall appear that +his unwisdom has not diminished by at least half while his years +have doubled, he promises not to repeat the experiment if he should +live to double them again and become his own grandfather. + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. +BOSTON. Nov. 1st 1858. + + + +CHAPTER I + + + +I was just going to say, when I was interrupted, that one of the +many ways of classifying minds is under the heads of arithmetical +and algebraical intellects. All economical and practical wisdom is +an extension or variation of the following arithmetical formula: +2+2=4. Every philosophical proposition has the more general +character of the expression a+b=c. We are mere operatives, +empirics, and egotists, until we learn to think in letters instead +of figures. + +They all stared. There is a divinity student lately come among us +to whom I commonly address remarks like the above, allowing him to +take a certain share in the conversation, so far as assent or +pertinent questions are involved. He abused his liberty on this +occasion by presuming to say that Leibnitz had the same +observation.--No, sir, I replied, he has not. But he said a mighty +good thing about mathematics, that sounds something like it, and +you found it, NOT IN THE ORIGINAL, but quoted by Dr. Thomas Reid. +I will tell the company what he did say, one of these days. + +--If I belong to a Society of Mutual Admiration?--I blush to say +that I do not at this present moment. I once did, however. It was +the first association to which I ever heard the term applied; a +body of scientific young men in a great foreign city who admired +their teacher, and to some extent each other. Many of them +deserved it; they have become famous since. It amuses me to hear +the talk of one of those beings described by Thackeray-- + + +"Letters four do form his name"-- + + +about a social development which belongs to the very noblest stage +of civilization. All generous companies of artists, authors, +philanthropists, men of science, are, or ought to be, Societies of +Mutual Admiration. A man of genius, or any kind of superiority, is +not debarred from admiring the same quality in another, nor the +other from returning his admiration. They may even associate +together and continue to think highly of each other. And so of a +dozen such men, if any one place is fortunate enough to hold so +many. The being referred to above assumes several false premises. +First, that men of talent necessarily hate each other. Secondly, +that intimate knowledge or habitual association destroys our +admiration of persons whom we esteemed highly at a distance. +Thirdly, that a circle of clever fellows, who meet together to dine +and have a good time, have signed a constitutional compact to +glorify themselves and to put down him and the fraction of the +human race not belonging to their number. Fourthly, that it is an +outrage that he is not asked to join them. + +Here the company laughed a good deal, and the old gentleman who +sits opposite said, "That's it! that's it!" + +I continued, for I was in the talking vein. As to clever people's +hating each other, I think a LITTLE extra talent does sometimes +make people jealous. They become irritated by perpetual attempts +and failures, and it hurts their tempers and dispositions. +Unpretending mediocrity is good, and genius is glorious; but a weak +flavor of genius in an essentially common person is detestable. It +spoils the grand neutrality of a commonplace character, as the +rinsings of an unwashed wineglass spoil a draught of fair water. +No wonder the poor fellow we spoke of, who always belongs to this +class of slightly flavored mediocrities, is puzzled and vexed by +the strange sight of a dozen men of capacity working and playing +together in harmony. He and his fellows are always fighting. With +them familiarity naturally breeds contempt. If they ever praise +each other's bad drawings, or broken-winded novels, or spavined +verses, nobody ever supposed it was from admiration; it was simply +a contract between themselves and a publisher or dealer. + +If the Mutuals have really nothing among them worth admiring, that +alters the question. But if they are men with noble powers and +qualities, let me tell you, that, next to youthful love and family +affections, there is no human sentiment better than that which +unites the Societies of Mutual Admiration. And what would +literature or art be without such associations? Who can tell what +we owe to the Mutual Admiration Society of which Shakspeare, and +Ben Jonson, and Beaumont and Fletcher were members? Or to that of +which Addison and Steele formed the centre, and which gave us the +Spectator? Or to that where Johnson, and Goldsmith, and Burke, and +Reynolds, and Beauclerk, and Boswell, most admiring among all +admirers, met together? Was there any great harm in the fact that +the Irvings and Paulding wrote in company? or any unpardonable +cabal in the literary union of Verplanck and Bryant and Sands, and +as many more as they chose to associate with them? + +The poor creature does not know what he is talking about, when he +abuses this noblest of institutions. Let him inspect its mysteries +through the knot-hole he has secured, but not use that orifice as a +medium for his popgun. Such a society is the crown of a literary +metropolis; if a town has not material for it, and spirit and good +feeling enough to organize it, it is a mere caravansary, fit for a +man of genius to lodge in, but not to live in. Foolish people hate +and dread and envy such an association of men of varied powers and +influence, because it is lofty, serene, impregnable, and, by the +necessity of the case, exclusive. Wise ones are prouder of the +title M. S. M. A. than of all their other honors put together. + +--All generous minds have a horror of what are commonly called +"facts." They are the brute beasts of the intellectual domain. +Who does not know fellows that always have an ill-conditioned fact +or two which they lead after them into decent company like so many +bull-dogs, ready to let them slip at every ingenious suggestion, or +convenient generalization, or pleasant fancy? I allow no "facts" +at this table. What! Because bread is good and wholesome and +necessary and nourishing, shall you thrust a crumb into my windpipe +while I am talking? Do not these muscles of mine represent a +hundred loaves of bread? and is not my thought the abstract of ten +thousand of these crumbs of truth with which you would choke off my +speech? + +[The above remark must be conditioned and qualified for the vulgar +mind. The reader will of course understand the precise amount of +seasoning which must be added to it before he adopts it as one of +the axioms of his life. The speaker disclaims all responsibility +for its abuse in incompetent hands.] + +This business of conversation is a very serious matter. There are +men that it weakens one to talk with an hour more than a day's +fasting would do. Mark this that I am going to say, for it is as +good as a working professional man's advice, and costs you nothing: +It is better to lose a pint of blood from your veins than to have a +nerve tapped. Nobody measures your nervous force as it runs away, +nor bandages your brain and marrow after the operation. + +There are men of esprit who are excessively exhausting to some +people. They are the talkers who have what may be called JERKY +minds. Their thoughts do not run in the natural order of sequence. +They say bright things on all possible subjects, but their zigzags +rack you to death. After a jolting half-hour with one of these +jerky companions, talking with a dull friend affords great relief. +It is like taking the cat in your lap after holding a squirrel. + +What a comfort a dull but kindly person is, to be sure, at times! +A ground-glass shade over a gas-lamp does not bring more solace to +our dazzled eyes than such a one to our minds. + +"Do not dull people bore you?" said one of the lady-boarders,--the +same that sent me her autograph-book last week with a request for a +few original stanzas, not remembering that "The Pactolian" pays me +five dollars a line for every thing I write in its columns. + +"Madam," said I, (she and the century were in their teens +together,) "all men are bores, except when we want them. There +never was but one man whom I would trust with my latch-key." + +"Who might that favored person be?" + +"Zimmermann." + +--The men of genius that I fancy most have erectile heads like the +cobra-di-capello. You remember what they tell of William Pinkney, +the great pleader; how in his eloquent paroxysms the veins of his +neck would swell and his face flush and his eyes glitter, until he +seemed on the verge of apoplexy. The hydraulic arrangements for +supplying the brain with blood are only second in importance to its +own organization. The bulbous-headed fellows that steam well when +they are at work are the men that draw big audiences and give us +marrowy books and pictures. It is a good sign to have one's feet +grow cold when he is writing. A great writer and speaker once told +me that he often wrote with his feet in hot water; but for this, +ALL his blood would have run into his head, as the mercury +sometimes withdraws into the ball of a thermometer. + +--You don't suppose that my remarks made at this table are like so +many postage-stamps, do you,--each to be only once uttered? If you +do, you are mistaken. He must be a poor creature that does not +often repeat himself. Imagine the author of the excellent piece of +advice, "Know thyself," never alluding to that sentiment again +during the course of a protracted existence! Why, the truths a man +carries about with him are his tools; and do you think a carpenter +is bound to use the same plane but once to smooth a knotty board +with, or to hang up his hammer after it has driven its first nail? +I shall never repeat a conversation, but an idea often. I shall +use the same types when I like, but not commonly the same +stereotypes. A thought is often original, though you have uttered +it a hundred times. It has come to you over a new route, by a new +and express train of associations. + +Sometimes, but rarely, one may be caught making the same speech +twice over, and yet be held blameless. Thus, a certain lecturer, +after performing in an inland city, where dwells a Litteratrice of +note, was invited to meet her and others over the social teacup. +She pleasantly referred to his many wanderings in his new +occupation. "Yes," he replied, "I am like the Huma, the bird that +never lights, being always in the cars, as he is always on the +wing."--Years elapsed. The lecturer visited the same place once +more for the same purpose. Another social cup after the lecture, +and a second meeting with the distinguished lady. "You are +constantly going from place to place," she said.--"Yes," he +answered, "I am like the Huma,"--and finished the sentence as +before. + +What horrors, when it flashed over him that he had made this fine +speech, word for word, twice over! Yet it was not true, as the +lady might perhaps have fairly inferred, that he had embellished +his conversation with the Huma daily during that whole interval of +years. On the contrary, he had never once thought of the odious +fowl until the recurrence of precisely the same circumstances +brought up precisely the same idea. He ought to have been proud of +the accuracy of his mental adjustments. Given certain factors, and +a sound brain should always evolve the same fixed product with the +certainty of Babbage's calculating machine. + +--What a satire, by the way, is that machine on the mere +mathematician! A Frankenstein-monster, a thing without brains and +without heart, too stupid to make a blunder; that turns out results +like a corn-sheller, and never grows any wiser or better, though it +grind a thousand bushels of them! + +I have an immense respect for a man of talents PLUS "the +mathematics." But the calculating power alone should seem to be +the least human of qualities, and to have the smallest amount of +reason in it; since a machine can be made to do the work of three +or four calculators, and better than any one of them. Sometimes I +have been troubled that I had not a deeper intuitive apprehension +of the relations of numbers. But the triumph of the ciphering +hand-organ has consoled me. I always fancy I can hear the wheels +clicking in a calculator's brain. The power of dealing with +numbers is a kind of "detached lever" arrangement, which may be put +into a mighty poor watch--I suppose it is about as common as the +power of moving the ears voluntarily, which is a moderately rare +endowment. + +--Little localized powers, and little narrow streaks of specialized +knowledge, are things men are very apt to be conceited about. +Nature is very wise; but for this encouraging principle how many +small talents and little accomplishments would be neglected! Talk +about conceit as much as you like, it is to human character what +salt is to the ocean; it keeps it sweet, and renders it endurable. +Say rather it is like the natural unguent of the sea-fowl's +plumage, which enables him to shed the rain that falls on him and +the wave in which he dips. When one has had ALL his conceit taken +out of him, when he has lost ALL his illusions, his feathers will +soon soak through, and he will fly no more. + +"So you admire conceited people, do you?" said the young lady who +has come to the city to be finished off for--the duties of life. + +I am afraid you do not study logic at your school, my dear. It +does not follow that I wish to be pickled in brine because I like a +salt-water plunge at Nahant. I say that conceit is just as +natural a thing to human minds as a centre is to a circle. But +little-minded people's thoughts move in such small circles that five +minutes' conversation gives you an arc long enough to determine +their whole curve. An arc in the movement of a large intellect +does not sensibly differ from a straight line. Even if it have the +third vowel as its centre, it does not soon betray it. The highest +thought, that is, is the most seemingly impersonal; it does not +obviously imply any individual centre. + +Audacious self-esteem, with good ground for it, is always imposing. +What resplendent beauty that must have been which could have +authorized Phryne to "peel" in the way she did! What fine speeches +are those two: "Non omnis mortar," and "I have taken all knowledge +to be my province"! Even in common people, conceit has the virtue +of making them cheerful; the man who thinks his wife, his baby, his +house, his horse, his dog, and himself severally unequalled, is +almost sure to be a good-humored person, though liable to be +tedious at times. + +--What are the great faults of conversation? Want of ideas, want +of words, want of manners, are the principal ones, I suppose you +think. I don't doubt it, but I will tell you what I have found +spoil more good talks than anything else;--long arguments on +special points between people who differ on the fundamental +principles upon which these points depend. No men can have +satisfactory relations with each other until they have agreed on +certain ultimata of belief not to be disturbed in ordinary +conversation, and unless they have sense enough to trace the +secondary questions depending upon these ultimate beliefs to their +source. In short, just as a written constitution is essential to +the best social order, so a code of finalities is a necessary +condition of profitable talk between two persons. Talking is like +playing on the harp; there is as much in laying the hand on the +strings to stop their vibrations as in twanging them to bring out +their music. + +--Do you mean to say the pun-question is not clearly settled in +your minds? Let me lay down the law upon the subject. Life and +language are alike sacred. Homicide and verbicide--that is, +violent treatment of a word with fatal results to its legitimate +meaning, which is its life--are alike forbidden. Manslaughter, +which is the meaning of the one, is the same as man's laughter, +which is the end of the other. A pun is prima facie an insult to +the person you are talking with. It implies utter indifference to +or sublime contempt for his remarks, no matter how serious. I +speak of total depravity, and one says all that is written on the +subject is deep raving. I have committed my self-respect by +talking with such a person. I should like to commit him, but +cannot, because he is a nuisance. Or I speak of geological +convulsions, and he asks me what was the cosine of Noah's ark; +also, whether the Deluge was not a deal huger than any modern +inundation. + +A pun does not commonly justify a blow in return. But if a blow +were given for such cause, and death ensued, the jury would be +judges both of the facts and of the pun, and might, if the latter +were of an aggravated character, return a verdict of justifiable +homicide. Thus, in a case lately decided before Miller, J., Doe +presented Roe a subscription paper, and urged the claims of +suffering humanity. Roe replied by asking, When charity was like a +top? It was in evidence that Doe preserved a dignified silence. +Roe then said, "When it begins to hum." Doe then--and not till +then--struck Roe, and his head happening to hit a bound volume of +the Monthly Rag-bag and Stolen Miscellany, intense mortification +ensued, with a fatal result. The chief laid down his notions of +the law to his brother justices, who unanimously replied, "Jest +so." The chief rejoined, that no man should jest so without being +punished for it, and charged for the prisoner, who was acquitted, +and the pun ordered to be burned by the sheriff. The bound volume +was forfeited as a deodand, but not claimed. + +People that make puns are like wanton boys that put coppers on the +railroad tracks. They amuse themselves and other children, but +their little trick may upset a freight train of conversation for +the sake of a battered witticism. + +I will thank you, B. F., to bring down two books, of which I will +mark the places on this slip of paper. (While he is gone, I may +say that this boy, our land-lady's youngest, is called BENJAMIN +FRANKLIN, after the celebrated philosopher of that name. A highly +merited compliment.) + +I wished to refer to two eminent authorities. Now be so good as to +listen. The great moralist says: "To trifle with the vocabulary +which is the vehicle of social intercourse is to tamper with the +currency of human intelligence. He who would violate the +sanctities of his mother tongue would invade the recesses of the +paternal till without remorse, and repeat the banquet of Saturn +without an indigestion." + +And, once more, listen to the historian. "The Puritans hated puns. +The Bishops were notoriously addicted to them. The Lords Temporal +carried them to the verge of license. Majesty itself must have its +Royal quibble. 'Ye be burly, my Lord of Burleigh,' said Queen +Elizabeth, 'but ye shall make less stir in our realm than my Lord +of Leicester.' The gravest wisdom and the highest breeding lent +their sanction to the practice. Lord Bacon playfully declared +himself a descendant of 'Og, the King of Bashan. Sir Philip +Sidney, with his last breath, reproached the soldier who brought +him water, for wasting a casque full upon a dying man. A courtier, +who saw Othello performed at the Globe Theatre, remarked, that the +blackamoor was a brute, and not a man. 'Thou hast reason,' replied +a great Lord, 'according to Plato his saying; for this be a +two-legged animal WITH feathers.' The fatal habit became universal. +The language was corrupted. The infection spread to the national +conscience. Political double-dealings naturally grew out of verbal +double meanings. The teeth of the new dragon were sown by the +Cadmus who introduced the alphabet of equivocation. What was +levity in the time of the Tudors grew to regicide and revolution in +the age of the Stuarts." + +Who was that boarder that just whispered something about the +Macaulay-flowers of literature?--There was a dead silence.--I said +calmly, I shall henceforth consider any interruption by a pun as a +hint to change my boarding-house. Do not plead my example. If _I_ +have used any such, it has been only as a Spartan father would show +up a drunken helot. We have done with them. + +--If a logical mind ever found out anything with its logic?--I +should say that its most frequent work was to build a pons asinorum +over chasms which shrewd people can bestride without such a +structure. You can hire logic, in the shape of a lawyer, to prove +anything that you want to prove. You can buy treatises to show +that Napoleon never lived, and that no battle of Bunker-hill was +ever fought. The great minds are those with a wide span, which +couple truths related to, but far removed from, each other. +Logicians carry the surveyor's chain over the track of which these +are the true explorers. I value a man mainly for his primary +relations with truth, as I understand truth,--not for any secondary +artifice in handling his ideas. Some of the sharpest men in +argument are notoriously unsound in judgment. I should not trust +the counsel of a smart debater, any more than that of a good +chess-player. Either may of course advise wisely, but not +necessarily because he wrangles or plays well. + +The old gentleman who sits opposite got his hand up, as a pointer +lifts his forefoot, at the expression, "his relations with truth, +as I understand truth," and when I had done, sniffed audibly, and +said I talked like a transcendentalist. For his part, common sense +was good enough for him. + +Precisely so, my dear sir, I replied; common sense, AS YOU +UNDERSTAND IT. We all have to assume a standard of judgment in our +own minds, either of things or persons. A man who is willing to +take another's opinion has to exercise his judgment in the choice +of whom to follow, which is often as nice a matter as to judge of +things for one's self. On the whole, I had rather judge men's +minds by comparing their thoughts with my own, than judge of +thoughts by knowing who utter them. I must do one or the other. +It does not follow, of course, that I may not recognize another +man's thoughts as broader and deeper than my own; but that does not +necessarily change my opinion, otherwise this would be at the mercy +of every superior mind that held a different one. How many of our +most cherished beliefs are like those drinking-glasses of the +ancient pattern, that serve us well so long as we keep them in our +hand, but spill all if we attempt to set them down! I have +sometimes compared conversation to the Italian game of mora, in +which one player lifts his hand with so many fingers extended, and +the other gives the number if he can. I show my thought, another +his; if they agree, well; if they differ, we find the largest +common factor, if we can, but at any rate avoid disputing about +remainders and fractions, which is to real talk what tuning an +instrument is to playing on it. + +--What if, instead of talking this morning, I should read you a +copy of verses, with critical remarks by the author? Any of the +company can retire that like. + + +ALBUM VERSES. + + +When Eve had led her lord away, +And Cain had killed his brother, +The stars and flowers, the poets say, +Agreed with one another + +To cheat the cunning tempter's art, +And teach the race its duty, +By keeping on its wicked heart +Their eyes of light and beauty. + +A million sleepless lids, they say, +Will be at least a warning; +And so the flowers would watch by day, +The stars from eve to morning. + +On hill and prairie, field and lawn, +Their dewy eyes upturning, +The flowers still watch from reddening dawn +Till western skies are burning. + +Alas! each hour of daylight tells +A tale of shame so crushing, +That some turn white as sea-bleached shells, +And some are always blushing. + +But when the patient stars look down +On all their light discovers, +The traitor's smile, the murderer's frown, +The lips of lying lovers, + +They try to shut their saddening eyes, +And in the vain endeavour +We see them twinkling in the skies, +And so they wink forever. + + +What do YOU think of these verses my friends?--Is that piece an +impromptu? said my landlady's daughter. (Aet. 19 +. Tender-eyed +blonde. Long ringlets. Cameo pin. Gold pencil-case on a chain. +Locket. Bracelet. Album. Autograph book. Accordeon. Reads +Byron, Tupper, and Sylvanus Cobb, junior, while her mother makes +the puddings. Says "Yes?" when you tell her anything.)--Oui et +non, ma petite,--Yes and no, my child. Five of the seven verses +were written off-hand; the other two took a week,--that is, were +hanging round the desk in a ragged, forlorn, unrhymed condition as +long as that. All poets will tell you just such stories. C'est le +DERNIER pas qui coute. Don't you know how hard it is for some +people to get out of a room after their visit is really over? They +want to be off, and you want to have them off, but they don't know +how to manage it. One would think they had been built in your +parlour or study, and were waiting to be launched. I have +contrived a sort of ceremonial inclined plane for such visitors, +which being lubricated with certain smooth phrases, I back them +down, metaphorically speaking, stern-foremost, into their "native +element," the great ocean of out-doors. Well, now, there are poems +as hard to get rid of as these rural visitors. They come in +glibly, use up all the serviceable rhymes, DAY, RAY, BEAUTY, DUTY, +SKIES, EYES, OTHER, BROTHER, MOUNTAIN, FOUNTAIN, and the like; and +so they go on until you think it is time for the wind-up, and the +wind-up won't come on any terms. So they lie about until you get +sick of the sight of them, and end by thrusting some cold scrap of +a final couplet upon them, and turning them out of doors. I +suspect a good many "impromptus" could tell just such a story as +the above.--Here turning to our landlady, I used an illustration +which pleased the company much at the time, and has since been +highly commanded. "Madam," I said, "you can pour three gills and +three quarters of honey from that pint jug, if it is full, in less +than one minute; but, Madam, you could not empty that last quarter +of a gill, though you were turned into a marble Hebe, and held the +vessel upside down for a thousand years. + +One gets tired to death of the old, old rhymes, such as you see in +that copy of verses,--which I don't mean to abuse, or to praise +either. I always feel as if I were a cobbler, putting new +top-leathers to an old pair of boot-soles and bodies, when I am +fitting sentiments to these venerable jingles. + + . . . . youth +. . . . . morning +. . . . . truth +. . . . . warning + +Nine tenths of the "Juvenile Poems" written spring out of the above +musical and suggestive coincidences. + +"Yes?" said our landlady's daughter. + +I did not address the following remark to her, and I trust, from +her limited range of reading, she will never see it; I said it +softly to my next neighbour. + +When a young female wears a flat circular side--curl, gummed on +each temple,--when she walks with a male, not arm in arm, but his +arm against the back of hers,--and when she says "Yes?" with the +note of interrogation, you are generally safe in asking her what +wages she gets, and who the "feller" was you saw her with. + +"What were you whispering?" said the daughter of the house, +moistening her lips, as she spoke, in a very engaging manner. + +"I was only laying down a principle of social diagnosis." + +"Yes?" + +--It is curious to see how the same wants and tastes find the same +implements and modes of expression in all times and places. The +young ladies of Otaheite, as you may see in Cook's Voyages, had a +sort of crinoline arrangement fully equal in radius to the largest +spread of our own lady-baskets. When I fling a Bay-State shawl +over my shoulders, I am only taking a lesson from the climate that +the Indian had learned before me. A BLANKET-shawl we call it, and +not a plaid; and we wear it like the aborigines, and not like the +Highlanders. + +--We are the Romans of the modern world,--the great assimilating +people. Conflicts and conquests are of course necessary accidents +with us, as with our prototypes. And so we come to their style of +weapon. Our army sword is the short, stiff, pointed gladius of the +Romans; and the American bowie-knife is the same tool, modified to +meet the daily wants of civil society. I announce at this table an +axiom not to be found in Montesquieu or the journals of Congress:- + + +The race that shortens its weapons lengthens its boundaries. + + +Corollary. It was the Polish LANCE that left Poland at last with +nothing of her own to bound. + + +"Dropped from her nerveless grasp the SHATTERED SPEAR!" + + +What business had Sarmatia to be fighting for liberty with a +fifteen-foot pole between her and the breasts of her enemies? If +she had but clutched the old Roman and young American weapon, and +come to close quarters, there might have been a chance for her; but +it would have spoiled the best passage in "The Pleasures of Hope." + +--Self-made men?--Well, yes. Of course everybody likes and +respects self-made men. It is a great deal better to be made in +that way than not to be made at all. Are any of you younger people +old enough to remember that Irishman's house on the marsh at +Cambridgeport, which house he built from drain to chimney-top with +his own hands? It took him a good many years to build it, and one +could see that it was a little out of plumb, and a little wavy in +outline, and a little queer and uncertain in general aspect. A +regular hand could certainly have built a better house; but it was +a very good house for a "self-made" carpenter's house, and people +praised it, and said how remarkably well the Irishman had +succeeded. They never thought of praising the fine blocks of +houses a little farther on. + +Your self-made man, whittled into shape with his own jack-knife, +deserves more credit, if that is all, than the regular +engine-turned article, shaped by the most approved pattern, and +French-polished by society and travel. But as to saying that one is +every way the equal of the other, that is another matter. The right +of strict social discrimination of all things and persons, according +to their merits, native or acquired, is one of the most precious +republican privileges. I take the liberty to exercise it, when I say, +that, OTHER THINGS BEING EQUAL, in most relations of life I prefer a +man of family. + +What do I mean by a man of family?--O, I'll give you a general idea +of what I mean. Let us give him a first-rate fit out; it costs us +nothing. + +Four or five generations of gentlemen and gentlewomen; among them a +member of his Majesty's Council for the Province, a Governor or so, +one or two Doctors of Divinity, a member of Congress, not later +than the time of top-boots with tassels. + +Family portraits. The member of the Council, by Smibert. The +great merchant-uncle, by Copley, full length, sitting in his +arm-chair, in a velvet cap and flowered robe, with a globe by him, +to show the range of his commercial transactions, and letters with +large red seals lying round, one directed conspicuously to The +Honourable etc. etc. Great-grandmother, by the same artist; brown +satin, lace very fine, hands superlative; grand old lady, stiffish, +but imposing. Her mother, artist unknown; flat, angular, hanging +sleeves; parrot on fist. A pair of Stuarts, viz., 1. A superb +full-blown, mediaeval gentleman, with a fiery dash of Tory blood in +his veins, tempered down with that of a fine old rebel grandmother, +and warmed up with the best of old India Madeira; his face is one +flame of ruddy sunshine; his ruffled shirt rushes out of his bosom +with an impetuous generosity, as if it would drag his heart after +it; and his smile is good for twenty thousand dollars to the +Hospital, besides ample bequests to all relatives and dependants. +2. Lady of the same; remarkable cap; high waist, as in time of +Empire; bust a la Josephine; wisps of curls, like celery-tips, at +sides of forehead; complexion clear and warm, like rose-cordial. +As for the miniatures by Malbone, we don't count them in the +gallery. + +Books, too, with the names of old college-students in them,--family +names;--you will find them at the head of their respective classes +in the days when students took rank on the catalogue from their +parents' condition. Elzevirs, with the Latinized appellations of +youthful progenitors, and Hic liber est meus on the title-page. A +set of Hogarth's original plates. Pope, original edition, 15 +volumes, London, 1717. Barrow on the lower shelves, in folio. +Tillotson on the upper, in a little dark platoon of octo-decimos. + +Some family silver; a string of wedding and funeral rings; the arms +of the family curiously blazoned; the same in worsted, by a maiden +aunt. + +If the man of family has an old place to keep these things in, +furnished with claw-footed chairs and black mahogany tables, and +tall bevel-edged mirrors, and stately upright cabinets, his outfit +is complete. + +No, my friends, I go (always, other things being equal) for the man +who inherits family traditions and the cumulative humanities of at +least four or five generations. Above all things, as a child, he +should have tumbled about in a library. All men are afraid of +books, who have not handled them from infancy. Do you suppose our +dear didascalos over there ever read Poli Synopsis, or consulted +Castelli Lexicon, while he was growing up to their stature? Not +he; but virtue passed through the hem of their parchment and +leather garments whenever he touched them, as the precious drugs +sweated through the bat's handle in the Arabian story. I tell you +he is at home wherever he smells the invigorating fragrance of +Russia leather. No self-made man feels so. One may, it is true, +have all the antecedents I have spoken of, and yet be a boor or a +shabby fellow. One may have none of them, and yet be fit for +councils and courts. Then let them change places. Our social +arrangement has this great beauty, that its strata shift up and +down as they change specific gravity, without being clogged by +layers of prescription. But I still insist on my democratic +liberty of choice, and I go for the man with the gallery of family +portraits against the one with the twenty-five-cent daguerreotype, +unless I find out that the last is the better of the two. + +--I should have felt more nervous about the late comet, if I had +thought the world was ripe. But it is very green yet, if I am not +mistaken; and besides, there is a great deal of coal to use up, +which I cannot bring myself to think was made for nothing. If +certain things, which seem to me essential to a millennium, had +come to pass, I should have been frightened; but they haven't. +Perhaps you would like to hear my + + +LATTER-DAY WARNINGS. + + +When legislators keep the law, +When banks dispense with bolts and locks, +When berries, whortle--rasp--and straw-- +Grow bigger DOWNWARDS through the box,-- + +When he that selleth house or land +Shows leak in roof or flaw in right,-- +When haberdashers choose the stand +Whose window hath the broadest light,-- + +When preachers tell us all they think, +And party leaders all they mean,-- +When what we pay for, that we drink, +From real grape and coffee-bean,-- + +When lawyers take what they would give, +And doctors give what they would take,-- +When city fathers eat to live, +Save when they fast for conscience' sake,-- + +When one that hath a horse on sale +Shall bring his merit to the proof, +Without a lie for every nail +That holds the iron on the hoof,-- + +When in the usual place for rips +Our gloves are stitched with special care, +And guarded well the whalebone tips +Where first umbrellas need repair,-- + +When Cuba's weeds have quite forgot +The power of suction to resist, +And claret-bottles harber not +Such dimples as would hold your fist,-- + +When publishers no longer steal, +And pay for what they stole before,-- +When the first locomotive's wheel +Rolls through the Hoosac tunnel's bore;-- + +TILL then let Cumming a blaze away, +And Miller's saints blow up the globe; +But when you see that blessed day, +THEN order your ascension robe! + + +The company seemed to like the verses, and I promised them to read +others occasionally, if they had a mind to hear them. Of course +they would not expect it every morning. Neither must the reader +suppose that all these things I have reported were said at any one +breakfast-time. I have not taken the trouble to date them, as +Raspail, pere, used to date every proof he sent to the printer; but +they were scattered over several breakfasts; and I have said a good +many more things since, which I shall very possibly print some time +or other, if I am urged to do it by judicious friends. + +I finished off with reading some verses of my friend the Professor, +of whom you may perhaps hear more by and by. The Professor read +them, he told me, at a farewell meeting, where the youngest of our +great Historians met a few of his many friends at their invitation. + + +Yes, we knew we must lose him,--though friendship may claim +To blend her green leaves with the laurels of fame; +Though fondly, at parting, we call him our own, +'Tis the whisper of love when the bugle has blown. + +As the rider that rests with the spur on his heel,-- +As the guardsman that sleeps in his corselet of steel,-- +As the archer that stands with his shaft on the string, +He stoops from his toil to the garland we bring. + +What pictures yet slumber unborn in his loom +Till their warriors shall breathe and their beauties shall bloom, +While the tapestry lengthens the life-glowing dyes +That caught from our sunsets the stain of their skies! + +In the alcoves of death, in the charnels of time, +Where flit the gaunt spectres of passion and crime, +There are triumphs untold, there are martyrs unsung, +There are heroes yet silent to speak with his tongue! + +Let us hear the proud story which time has bequeathed +From lips that are warm with the freedom they breathed! +Let him summon its tyrants, and tell us their doom, +Though he sweep the black past like Van Tromp with his broom! + +* * * * * + +The dream flashes by, for the west-winds awake +On pampas, on prairie, o'er mountain and lake, +To bathe the swift bark, like a sea-girdled shrine, +With incense they stole from the rose and the pine. + +So fill a bright cup with the sunlight that gushed +When the dead summer's jewels were trampled and crushed: +THE TRUE KNIGHT OF LEARNING,--the world holds him dear,-- +Love bless him, Joy crown him, God speed his career! + + + +CHAPTER II + + + +I really believe some people save their bright thoughts, as being +too precious for conversation. What do you think an admiring +friend said the other day to one that was talking good things, +--good enough to print? "Why," said he, "you are wasting +mechantable literature, a cash article, at the rate, as nearly as I +can tell, of fifty dollars an hour." The talker took him to the +window and asked him to look out and tell what he saw. + +"Nothing but a very dusty street," he said, "and a man driving a +sprinkling-machine through it." + +"Why don't you tell the man he is wasting that water? What would +be the state of the highways of life, if we did not drive our +THOUGHT-SPRINKLERS through them with the valves open, sometimes? + +"Besides, there is another thing about this talking, which you +forget. It shapes our thoughts for us;--the waves of conversation +roll them as the surf rolls the pebbles on the shore. Let me +modify the image a little. I rough out my thoughts in talk as an +artist models in clay. Spoken language is so plastic,--you can pat +and coax, and spread and shave, and rub out, and fill up, and stick +on so easily when you work that soft material, that there is +nothing like it for modelling. Out of it come the shapes which you +turn into marble or bronze in your immortal books, if you happen to +write such. Or, to use another illustration, writing or printing +is like shooting with a rifle; you may hit your reader's mind, or +miss it;--but talking is like playing at a mark with the pipe of an +engine; if it is within reach, and you have time enough, you can't +help hitting it." + +The company agreed that this last illustration was of superior +excellence, or, in the phrase used by them, "Fust-rate." I +acknowledged the compliment, but gently rebuked the expression. +"Fust-rate," "prime," "a prime article," "a superior piece of +goods," "a handsome garment," "a gent in a flowered vest,"--all +such expressions are final. They blast the lineage of him or her +who utters them, for generations up and down. There is one other +phrase which will soon come to be decisive of a man's social +STATUS, if it is not already: "That tells the whole story." It +is an expression which vulgar and conceited people particularly +affect, and which well-meaning ones, who know better, catch from +them. It is intended to stop all debate, like the previous +question in the General Court. Only it doesn't; simply because +"that" does not usually tell the whole, nor one half of the whole +story. + +--It is an odd idea, that almost all our people have had a +professional education. To become a doctor a man must study some +three years and hear a thousand lectures, more or less. Just how +much study it takes to make a lawyer I cannot say, but probably not +more than this. Now most decent people hear one hundred lectures +or sermons (discourses) on theology every year,--and this, twenty, +thirty, fifty years together. They read a great many religious +books besides. The clergy, however, rarely hear any sermons except +what they preach themselves. A dull preacher might be conceived, +therefore, to lapse into a state of quasi heathenism, simply for +want of religious instruction. And on the other hand, an attentive +and intelligent hearer, listening to a succession of wise teachers, +might become actually better educated in theology than any one of +them. We are all theological students, and more of us qualified as +doctors of divinity than have received degrees at any of the +universities. + +It is not strange, therefore, that very good people should often +find it difficult, if not impossible, to keep their attention fixed +upon a sermon treating feebly a subject which they have thought +vigorously about for years, and heard able men discuss scores of +times. I have often noticed, however, that a hopelessly dull +discourse acts INDUCTIVELY, as electricians would say, in +developing strong mental currents. I am ashamed to think with what +accompaniments and variations and fioriture I have sometimes +followed the droning of a heavy speaker,--not willingly,--for my +habit is reverential,--but as a necessary result of a slight +continuous impression on the senses and the mind, which kept both +in action without furnishing the food they required to work upon. +If you ever saw a crow with a king-bird after him, you will get an +image of a dull speaker and a lively listener. The bird in sable +plumage flaps heavily along his straight-forward course, while the +other sails round him, over him, under him, leaves him, comes back +again, tweaks out a black feather, shoots away once more, never +losing sight of him, and finally reaches the crow's perch at the +same time the crow does, having cut a perfect labyrinth of loops +and knots and spirals while the slow fowl was painfully working +from one end of his straight line to the other. + +[I think these remarks were received rather coolly. A temporary +boarder from the country, consisting of a somewhat more than +middle-aged female, with a parchment forehead and a dry little +"frisette" shingling it, a sallow neck with a necklace of gold +beads, a black dress too rusty for recent grief and contours in +basso-rilievo, left the table prematurely, and was reported to have +been very virulent about what I said. So I went to my good old +minister, and repeated the remarks, as nearly as I could remember +them, to him. He laughed good-naturedly, and said there was +considerable truth in them. He thought he could tell when people's +minds were wandering, by their looks. In the earlier years of his +ministry he had sometimes noticed this, when he was preaching; +--very little of late years. Sometimes, when his colleague was +preaching, he observed this kind of inattention; but after all, it +was not so very unnatural. I will say, by the way, that it is a +rule I have long followed, to tell my worst thoughts to my +minister, and my best thoughts to the young people I talk with.] + +--I want to make a literary confession now, which I believe nobody +has made before me. You know very well that I write verses +sometimes, because I have read some of them at this table. (The +company assented,--two or three of them in a resigned sort of way, +as I thought, as if they supposed I had an epic in my pocket, and +was going to read half a dozen books or so for their benefit.)--I +continued. Of course I write some lines or passages which are +better than others; some which, compared with the others, might be +called relatively excellent. It is in the nature of things that I +should consider these relatively excellent lines or passages as +absolutely good. So much must be pardoned to humanity. Now I +never wrote a "good" line in my life, but the moment after it was +written it seemed a hundred years old. Very commonly I had a +sudden conviction that I had seen it somewhere. Possibly I may +have sometimes unconsciously stolen it, but I do not remember that +I ever once detected any historical truth in these sudden +convictions of the antiquity of my new thought or phrase. I have +learned utterly to distrust them, and never allow them to bully me +out of a thought or line. + +This is the philosophy of it. (Here the number of the company was +diminished by a small secession.) Any new formula which suddenly +emerges in our consciousness has its roots in long trains of +thought; it is virtually old when it first makes its appearance +among the recognized growths of our intellect. Any crystalline +group of musical words has had a long and still period to form in. +Here is one theory. + +But there is a larger law which perhaps comprehends these facts. +It is this. The rapidity with which ideas grow old in our memories +is in a direct ratio to the squares of their importance. Their +apparent age runs up miraculously, like the value of diamonds, as +they increase in magnitude. A great calamity, for instance, is as +old as the trilobites an hour after it has happened. It stains +backward through all the leaves we have turned over in the book of +life, before its blot of tears or of blood is dry on the page we +are turning. For this we seem to have lived; it was foreshadowed +in dreams that we leaped out of in the cold sweat of terror; in the +"dissolving views" of dark day-visions; all omens pointed to it; +all paths led to it. After the tossing half-forgetfulness of the +first sleep that follows such an event, it comes upon us afresh, as +a surprise, at waking; in a few moments it is old again,--old as +eternity. + +[I wish I had not said all this then and there. I might have known +better. The pale schoolmistress, in her mourning dress, was +looking at me, as I noticed, with a wild sort of expression. All +at once the blood dropped out of her cheeks as the mercury drops +from a broken barometer-tube, and she melted away from her seat +like an image of snow; a slung-shot could not have brought her down +better. God forgive me! + +After this little episode, I continued, to some few that remained +balancing teaspoons on the edges of cups, twirling knives, or +tilting upon the hind legs of their chairs until their heads +reached the wall, where they left gratuitous advertisements of +various popular cosmetics.] + +When a person is suddenly thrust into any strange, new position of +trial, he finds the place fits him as if he had been measured for +it. He has committed a great crime, for instance, and is sent to +the State Prison. The traditions, prescriptions, limitations, +privileges, all the sharp conditions of his new life, stamp +themselves upon his consciousness as the signet on soft wax;--a +single pressure is enough. Let me strengthen the image a little. +Did you ever happen to see that most soft-spoken and velvet-handed +steam-engine at the Mint? The smooth piston slides backward and +forward as a lady might slip her delicate finger in and out of a +ring. The engine lays one of ITS fingers calmly, but firmly, upon +a bit of metal; it is a coin now, and will remember that touch, and +tell a new race about it, when the date upon it is crusted over +with twenty centuries. So it is that a great silent-moving misery +puts a new stamp on us in an hour or a moment,--as sharp an +impression as if it had taken half a lifetime to engrave it. + +It is awful to be in the hands of the wholesale professional +dealers in misfortune; undertakers and jailers magnetize you in a +moment, and you pass out of the individual life you were living +into the rhythmical movements of their horrible machinery. Do the +worst thing you can, or suffer the worst that can be thought of, +you find yourself in a category of humanity that stretches back as +far as Cain, and with an expert at your elbow who has studied your +case all out beforehand, and is waiting for you with his implements +of hemp or mahogany. I believe, if a man were to be burned in any +of our cities tomorrow for heresy, there would be found a master of +ceremonies that knew just how many fagots were necessary, and the +best way of arranging the whole matter. + +--So we have not won the Goodwood cup; au contraire, we were a "bad +fifth," if not worse than that; and trying it again, and the third +time, has not yet bettered the matter. Now I am as patriotic as +any of my fellow-citizens,--too patriotic in fact, for I have got +into hot water by loving too much of my country; in short, if any +man, whose fighting weight is not more than eight stone four +pounds, disputes it, I am ready to discuss the point with him. I +should have gloried to see the stars and stripes in front at the +finish. I love my country, and I love horses. Stubbs's old +mezzotint of Eclipse hangs over my desk, and Herring's portrait of +Plenipotentiary,--whom I saw run at Epsom,--over my fireplace. Did +I not elope from school to see Revenge, and Prospect, and Little +John, and Peacemaker run over the race-course where now yon +suburban village flourishes, in the year eighteen hundred and +ever-so-few? Though I never owned a horse, have I not been the +proprietor of six equine females, of which one was the prettiest +little "Morgin" that ever stepped? Listen, then, to an opinion I +have often expressed long before this venture of ours in England. +Horse-RACING is not a republican institution; horse-TROTTING is. +Only very rich persons can keep race-horses, and everybody knows +they are kept mainly as gambling implements. All that matter about +blood and speed we won't discuss; we understand all that; useful, +very,--OF course,--great obligations to the Godolphin "Arabian," +and the rest. I say racing horses are essentially gambling +implements, as much as roulette tables. Now I am not preaching at +this moment; I may read you one of my sermons some other morning; +but I maintain that gambling, on the great scale, is not +republican. It belongs to two phases of society,--a cankered +over-civilization, such as exists in rich aristocracies, and the +reckless life of borderers and adventurers, or the semi-barbarism +of a civilization resolved into its primitive elements. Real +Republicanism is stern and severe; its essence is not in forms of +government, but in the omnipotence of public opinion which grows +out of it. This public opinion cannot prevent gambling with dice +or stocks, but it can and does compel it to keep comparatively +quiet. But horse-racing is the most public way of gambling, and +with all its immense attractions to the sense and the feelings,--to +which I plead very susceptible,--the disguise is too thin that +covers it, and everybody knows what it means. Its supporters are +the Southern gentry,--fine fellows, no doubt, but not republicans +exactly, as we understand the term,--a few Northern millionnaires +more or less thoroughly millioned, who do not represent the real +people, and the mob of sporting men, the best of whom are commonly +idlers, and the worst very bad neighbors to have near one in a +crowd, or to meet in a dark alley. In England, on the other hand, +with its aristocratic institutions, racing is a natural growth +enough; the passion for it spreads downwards through all classes, +from the Queen to the costermonger. London is like a shelled +corn-cob on the Derby day, and there is not a clerk who could raise +the money to hire a saddle with an old hack under it that can sit down +on his office-stool the next day without wincing. + +Now just compare the racer with the trotter for a moment. The +racer is incidentally useful, but essentially something to bet +upon, as much as the thimble-rigger's "little joker." The trotter +is essentially and daily useful, and only incidentally a tool for +sporting men. + +What better reason do you want for the fact that the racer is most +cultivated and reaches his greatest perfection in England, and that +the trotting horses of America beat the world? And why should we +have expected that the pick--if it was the pick--of our few and +far-between racing stables should beat the pick of England and +France? Throw over the fallacious time-test, and there was nothing +to show for it but a natural kind of patriotic feeling, which we +all have, with a thoroughly provincial conceit, which some of us +must plead guilty to. + +We may beat yet. As an American, I hope we shall. As a moralist +and occasional sermonizer, I am not so anxious about it. Wherever +the trotting horse goes, he carries in his train brisk omnibuses, +lively bakers' carts, and therefore hot rolls, the jolly butcher's +wagon, the cheerful gig, the wholesome afternoon drive with wife +and child,--all the forms of moral excellence, except truth, which +does not agree with any kind of horse-flesh. The racer brings with +him gambling, cursing, swearing, drinking, the eating of oysters, +and a distaste for mob-caps and the middle-aged virtues. + +And by the way, let me beg you not to call a TROTTING MATCH a RACE, +and not to speak of a "thoroughbred" as a "BLOODED" horse, unless +he has been recently phlebotomized. I consent to your saying +"blood horse," if you like. Also, if, next year, we send out +Posterior and Posterioress, the winners of the great national +four-mile race in 7 18.5, and they happen to get beaten, pay your +bets, and behave like men and gentlemen about it, if you know how. + +[I felt a great deal better after blowing off the ill-temper +condensed in the above paragraph. To brag little,--to show well, +--to crow gently, if in luck,--to pay up, to own up, and to shut up, +if beaten, are the virtues of a sporting man, and I can't say that +I think we have shown them in any great perfection of late.] + +--Apropos of horses. Do you know how important good jockeying is +to authors? Judicious management; letting the public see your +animal just enough, and not too much; holding him up hard when the +market is too full of him; letting him out at just the right buying +intervals; always gently feeling his mouth; never slacking and +never jerking the rein;--this is what I mean by jockeying. + +--When an author has a number of books out a cunning hand will keep +them all spinning, as Signor Blitz does his dinner-plates; fetching +each one up, as it begins to "wabble," by an advertisement, a puff, +or a quotation. + +--Whenever the extracts from a living writer begin to multiply fast +in the papers, without obvious reason, there is a new book or a new +edition coming. The extracts are GROUND-BAIT. + +--Literary life is fun of curious phenomena. I don't know that +there is anything more noticeable than what we may call +CONVENTIONAL REPUTATIONS. There is a tacit understanding in every +community of men of letters that they will not disturb the popular +fallacy respecting this or that electro-gilded celebrity. There +are various reasons for this forbearance: one is old; one is rich; +one is good-natured; one is such a favorite with the pit that it +would not be safe to hiss him from the manager's box. The +venerable augurs of the literary or scientific temple may smile +faintly when one of the tribe is mentioned; but the farce is in +general kept up as well as the Chinese comic scene of entreating +and imploring a man to stay with you with the implied compact +between you that he shall by no means think of doing it. A poor +wretch he must be who would wantonly sit down on one of these +bandbox reputations. A Prince-Rupert's-drop, which is a tear of +unannealed glass, lasts indefinitely, if you keep it from meddling +hands; but break its tail off, and it explodes and resolves itself +into powder. These celebrities I speak of are the Prince-Rupert's +drops of the learned and polite world. See how the papers treat +them! What an array of pleasant kaleidoscopic phrases, which can +be arranged in ever so many charming patterns, is at their service! +How kind the "Critical Notices"--where small authorship comes to +pick up chips of praise, fragrant, sugary, and sappy--always are to +them! Well, life would be nothing without paper-credit and other +fictions; so let them pass current. Don't steal their chips; don't +puncture their swimming-bladders; don't come down on their +pasteboard boxes; don't break the ends of their brittle and +unstable reputations, you fellows who all feel sure that your names +will be household words a thousand years from now. + +"A thousand years is a good while," said the old gentleman who sits +opposite, thoughtfully. + +--Where have I been for the last three or four days? Down at the +Island, deer-shooting.--How many did I bag? I brought home one +buck shot.--The Island is where? No matter. It is the most +splendid domain that any man looks upon in these latitudes. Blue +sea around it, and running up into its heart, so that the little +boat slumbers like a baby in lap, while the tall ships are +stripping naked to fight the hurricane outside, and storm-stay- +sails banging and flying in ribbons. Trees, in stretches of miles; +beeches, oaks, most numerous;--many of them hung with moss, looking +like bearded Druids; some coiled in the clasp of huge, dark-stemmed +grape-vines. Open patches where the sun gets in and goes to sleep, +and the winds come so finely sifted that they are as soft as +swan's down. Rocks scattered about,--Stonehenge-like monoliths. +Fresh-water lakes; one of them, Mary's lake, crystal-clear, full of +flashing pickerel lying under the lily-pads like tigers in the +jungle. Six pounds of ditto killed one morning for breakfast. +EGO fecit. + +The divinity-student looked as if he would like to question my +Latin. No, sir, I said,--you need not trouble yourself. There is +a higher law in grammar, not to be put down by Andrews and +Stoddard. Then I went on. + +Such hospitality as that island has seen there has not been the +like of in these our New England sovereignties. There is nothing +in the shape of kindness and courtesy that can make life beautiful, +which has not found its home in that ocean-principality. It has +welcomed all who were worthy of welcome, from the pale clergyman +who came to breathe the sea-air with its medicinal salt and iodine, +to the great statesman who turned his back on the affairs of +empire, and smoothed his Olympian forehead, and flashed his white +teeth in merriment over the long table, where his wit was the +keenest and his story the best. + +[I don't believe any man ever talked like that in this world. I +don't believe _I_ talked just so; but the fact is, in reporting +one's conversation, one cannot help BLAIR-ing it up more or less, +ironing out crumpled paragraphs, starching limp ones, and crimping +and plaiting a little sometimes; it is as natural as prinking at +the looking-glass.] + +--How can a man help writing poetry in such a place? Everybody +does write poetry that goes there. In the state archives, kept in +the library of the Lord of the Isle, are whole volumes of +unpublished verse,--some by well-known hands, and others quite as +good, by the last people you would think of as versifiers,--men who +could pension off all the genuine poets in the country, and buy ten +acres of Boston common, if it was for sale, with what they had +left. Of course I had to write my little copy of verses with the +rest; here it is, if you will hear me read it. When the sun is in +the west, vessels sailing in an easterly direction look bright or +dark to one who observes them from the north or south, according to +the tack they are sailing upon. Watching them from one of the +windows of the great mansion, I saw these perpetual changes, and +moralized thus:- + + +SUN AND SHADOW. + + +As I look from the isle, o'er its billows of green, +To the billows of foam-crested blue, +Yon bark, that afar in the distance is seen, +Half dreaming, my eyes will pursue: +Now dark in the shadow, she scatters the spray +As the chaff in the stroke of the flail; +Now white as the sea-gull, she flies on her way, +The sun gleaming bright on her sail. + +Yet her pilot is thinking of dangers to shun,-- +Of breakers that whiten and roar; +How little he cares, if in shadow or sun +They see him that gaze from the shore! +He looks to the beacon that looms from the reef, +To the rock that is under his lee, +As he drifts on the blast, like a wind-wafted leaf, +O'er the gulfs of the desolate sea. + +Thus drifting afar to the dim-vaulted caves +Where life and its ventures are laid, +The dreamers who gaze while we battle the waves +May see us in sunshine or shade; +Yet true to our course, though our shadow grow dark, +We'll trim our broad sail as before, +And stand by the rudder that governs the bark, +Nor ask how we look from the shore! + + +--Insanity is often the logic of an accurate mind overtasked. Good +mental machinery ought to break its own wheels and levers, if +anything is thrust among them suddenly which tends to stop them or +reverse their motion. A weak mind does not accumulate force enough +to hurt itself; stupidity often saves a man from going mad. We +frequently see persons in insane hospitals, sent there in +consequence of what are called RELIGIOUS mental disturbances. I +confess that I think better of them than of many who hold the same +notions, and keep their wits and appear to enjoy life very well, +outside of the asylums. Any decent person ought to go mad, if he +really holds such or such opinions. It is very much to his +discredit in every point of view, if he does not. What is the use +of my saying what some of these opinions are? Perhaps more than +one of you hold such as I should think ought to send you straight +over to Somerville, if you have any logic in your heads or any +human feeling in your hearts. Anything that is brutal, cruel, +heathenish, that makes life hopeless for the most of mankind and +perhaps for entire races,--anything that assumes the necessity of +the extermination of instincts which were given to be regulated, +--no matter by what name you call it,--no matter whether a fakir, or +a monk, or a deacon believes it,--if received, ought to produce +insanity in every well-regulated mind. That condition becomes a +normal one, under the circumstances. I am very much ashamed of +some people for retaining their reason, when they know perfectly +well that if they were not the most stupid or the most selfish of +human beings, they would become non-compotes at once. + +[Nobody understood this but the theological student and the +schoolmistress. They looked intelligently at each other; but +whether they were thinking about my paradox or not, I am not +clear.--It would be natural enough. Stranger things have happened. +Love and Death enter boarding-houses without asking the price of +board, or whether there is room for them. Alas, these young people +are poor and pallid! Love SHOULD be both rich and rosy, but MUST +be either rich or rosy. Talk about military duty! What is that to +the warfare of a married maid-of-all-work, with the title of +mistress, and an American female constitution, which collapses just +in the middle third of life, and comes out vulcanized India-rubber, +if it happen to live through the period when health and strength +are most wanted?] + +--Have I ever acted in private theatricals? Often. I have played +the part of the "Poor Gentleman," before a great many audiences, +--more, I trust, than I shall ever face again. I did not wear a +stage-costume, nor a wig, nor moustaches of burnt cork; but I was +placarded and announced as a public performer, and at the proper +hour I came forward with the ballet-dancer's smile upon my +countenance, and made my bow and acted my part. I have seen my +name stuck up in letters so big that I was ashamed to show myself +in the place by daylight. I have gone to a town with a sober +literary essay in my pocket, and seen myself everywhere announced +as the most desperate of buffos,--one who was obliged to restrain +himself in the full exercise of his powers, from prudential +considerations. I have been through as many hardships as Ulysses, +in the pursuit of my histrionic vocation. I have travelled in cars +until the conductors all knew me like a brother. I have run off +the rails, and stuck all night in snow-drifts, and sat behind +females that would have the window open when one could not wink +without his eyelids freezing together. Perhaps I shall give you +some of my experiences one of these days;--I will not now, for I +have something else for you. + +Private theatricals, as I have figured in them in country +lyceum-halls, are one thing,--and private theatricals, as they may be +seen in certain gilded and frescoed saloons of our metropolis, are +another. Yes, it is pleasant to see real gentlemen and ladies, who do +not think it necessary to mouth, and rant, and stride, like most of +our stage heroes and heroines, in the characters which show off their +graces and talents; most of all to see a fresh, unrouged, unspoiled, +high bred young maiden, with a lithe figure, and a pleasant voice, +acting in those love-dramas which make us young again to look upon, +when real youth and beauty will play them for us. + +--Of course I wrote the prologue I was asked to write. I did not +see the play, though. I knew there was a young lady in it, and +that somebody was in love with her, and she was in love with him, +and somebody (an old tutor, I believe) wanted to interfere, and, +very naturally, the young lady was too sharp for him. The play of +course ends charmingly; there is a general reconciliation, and all +concerned form a line and take each others' hands, as people always +do after they have made up their quarrels,--and then the curtain +falls,--if it does not stick, as it commonly does at private +theatrical exhibitions, in which case a boy is detailed to pull it +down, which he does, blushing violently. + +Now, then, for my prologue. I am not going to change my caesuras +and cadences for anybody; so if you do not like the heroic, or +iambic trimeter brachy-catalectic, you had better not wait to hear +it + + +THIS IS IT. + +A Prologue? Well, of course the ladies know;-- +I have my doubts. No matter,--here we go! +What is a Prologue? Let our Tutor teach: +Pro means beforehand; logos stands for speech. +'Tis like the harper's prelude on the strings, +The prima donna's courtesy ere she sings;-- +Prologues in metre are to other pros +As worsted stockings are to engine-hose. + +"The world's a stage," as Shakspeare said, one day; +The stage a world--was what he meant to say. +The outside world's a blunder, that is clear; +The real world that Nature meant is here. +Here every foundling finds its lost mamma; +Each rogue, repentant, melts his stern papa; +Misers relent, the spendthrift's debts are paid, +The cheats are taken in the traps they laid; +One after one the troubles all are past +Till the fifth act comes right side up at last, +When the young couple, old folks, rogues, and all, +Join hands, SO happy at the curtain's fall. +--Here suffering virtue ever finds relief, +And black-browed ruffians always come to grief, +--When the lorn damsel, with a frantic screech, +And cheeks as hueless as a brandy-peach, +Cries, "Help, kyind Heaven!" and drops upon her knees +On the green--baize,--beneath the (canvas) trees,-- +See to her side avenging Valor fly:- +"Ha! Villain! Draw! Now, Terraitorr, yield or die!" +--When the poor hero flounders in despair, +Some dear lost uncle turns up millionnaire,-- +Clasps the young scapegrace with paternal joy, +Sobs on his neck, "MY BOY! MY BOY!! MY BOY!!!" + +Ours, then, sweet friends, the real world to-night. +Of love that conquers in disaster's spite. +Ladies, attend! While woful cares and doubt +Wrong the soft passion in the world without, +Though fortune scowl, though prudence interfere, +One thing is certain: Love will triumph here! + +Lords of creation, whom your ladies rule,-- +The world's great masters, when you're out of school,-- +Learn the brief moral of our evening's play: +Man has his will,--but woman has her way! +While man's dull spirit toils in smoke and fire, +Woman's swift instinct threads the electric wire,-- +The magic bracelet stretched beneath the waves +Beats the black giant with his score of slaves. +All earthly powers confess your sovereign art +But that one rebel,--woman's wilful heart. +All foes you master; but a woman's wit +Lets daylight through you ere you know you're hit. +So, just to picture what her art can do, +Hear an old story made as good as new. + +Rudolph, professor of the headsman's trade, +Alike was famous for his arm and blade. +One day a prisoner Justice had to kill +Knelt at the block to test the artist's skill. +Bare-armed, swart-visaged, gaunt, and shaggy-browed, +Rudolph the headsman rose above the crowd. +His falchion lightened with a sudden gleam, +As the pike's armor flashes in the stream. +He sheathed his blade; he turned as if to go; +The victim knelt, still waiting for the blow. +"Why strikest not? Perform thy murderous act," +The prisoner said. (His voice was slightly cracked.) +"Friend I HAVE struck," the artist straight replied; +"Wait but one moment, and yourself decide." + +He held his snuff-box,--"Now then, if you please!" +The prisoner sniffed, and, with a crashing sneeze, +Off his head tumbled,--bowled along the floor,-- +Bounced down the steps;--the prisoner said no more! + +Woman! thy falchion is a glittering eye; +If death lurks in it, oh, how sweet to die! +Thou takest hearts as Rudolph took the head; +We die with love, and never dream we're dead! + + +The prologue went off very well, as I hear. No alterations were +suggested by the lady to whom it was sent, so far as I know. +Sometimes people criticize the poems one sends them, and suggest +all sorts of improvements. Who was that silly body that wanted +Burns to alter "Scots wha hae," so as to lengthen the last line, +thus + + +"EDWARD!" Chains and slavery! + + +Here is a little poem I sent a short time since to a committee for +a certain celebration. I understood that it was to be a festive +and convivial occasion, and ordered myself accordingly. It seems +the president of the day was what is called a "teetotaller." I +received a note from him in the following words, containing the +copy subjoined, with the emendations annexed to it. + +"Dear Sir,--your poem gives good satisfaction to the committee. +The sentiments expressed with reference to liquor are not, however, +those generally entertained by this community. I have therefore +consulted the clergyman of this place, who has made come slight +changes, which he thinks will remove all objections, and keep the +valuable portions of the poem. Please to inform me of your charge +for said poem. Our means are limited, etc., etc., etc. + +Yours with respect," + + +HERE IT IS--WITH THE SLIGHT ALTERATIONS! + +Come! fill a fresh bumper,--for why should we go +While the [nectar] [logwood] still reddens our cups as they flow? +Pour out the [rich juices] [decoction] still bright with the sun, +Till o'er the brimmed crystal the [rubies] [dye-stuff] shall run. + +The [purple glebed clusters] [half-ripened apples] their life-dews +have bled; +How sweet is the [breath] [taste] of the [fragrance they shed] +[sugar of lead]! +For summer's [last roses] [rank poisons] lie hid in the [wines] +[WINES!!!] +That were garnered by [maidens who laughed through the vines.] +[stable-boys smoking long-nines.] + +Then a [smile] [scowl], and a [glass] [howl], and a [toast] +[scoff], and a [cheer] [sneer], +For all [the good wine, and we've some of it here] [strychnine and +whiskey, and ratsbane and beer] +In cellar, in pantry, in attic, in hall, +[Long live the gay servant that laughs for us all!] [Down, down, +with the tyrant that masters us all!] + + +The company said I had been shabbily treated, and advised me to +charge the committee double,--which I did. But as I never got my +pay, I don't know that it made much difference. I am a very +particular person about having all I write printed as I write it. +I require to see a proof, a revise, a re-revise, and a double +re-revise, or fourth-proof rectified impression of all my productions, +especially verse. A misprint kills a sensitive author. An +intentional change of his text murders him. No wonder so many poets +die young! + +I have nothing more to report at this time, except two pieces of +advice I gave to the young women at table. One relates to a +vulgarism of language, which I grieve to say is sometimes heard +even from female lips. The other is of more serious purport, and +applies to such as contemplate a change of condition,--matrimony, +in fact. + +--The woman who "calculates" is lost. + +--Put not your trust in money, but put your money in trust. + + + +CHAPTER III + + + +[The "Atlantic" obeys the moon, and its LUNIVERSARY has come round +again. I have gathered up some hasty notes of my remarks made +since the last high tides, which I respectfully submit. Please to +remember this is TALK; just as easy and just as formal as I choose +to make it.] + +--I never saw an author in my life--saving, perhaps, one--that did +not purr as audibly as a full-grown domestic cat, (Felis Catus, +LINN.,) on having his fur smoothed in the right way by a skilful +hand. + +But let me give you a caution. Be very careful how you tell an +author he is DROLL. Ten to one he will hate you; and if he does, +be sure he can do you a mischief, and very probably will. Say you +CRIED over his romance or his verses, and he will love you and send +you a copy. You can laugh over that as much as you like--in +private. + +--Wonder why authors and actors are ashamed of being funny?--Why, +there are obvious reasons, and deep philosophical ones. The clown +knows very well that the women are not in love with him, but with +Hamlet, the fellow in the black cloak and plumed hat. Passion +never laughs. The wit knows that his place is at the tail of a +procession. + +If you want the deep underlying reason, I must take more time to +tell it. There is a perfect consciousness in every form of wit +--using that term in its general sense--that its essence consists in +a partial and incomplete view of whatever it touches. It throws a +single ray, separated from the rest,--red, yellow, blue, or any +intermediate shade,--upon an object; never white light; that is the +province of wisdom. We get beautiful effects from wit,--all the +prismatic colors,--but never the object as it is in fair daylight. +A pun, which is a kind if wit, is a different and much shallower +trick in mental optics throwing the SHADOWS of two objects so that +one overlies the other. Poetry uses the rainbow tints for special +effects, but always keeps its essential object in the purest white +light of truth.--Will you allow me to pursue this subject a little +further? + +[They didn't allow me at that time, for somebody happened to scrape +the floor with his chair just then; which accidental sound, as all +must have noticed, has the instantaneous effect that the cutting of +the yellow hair by Iris had upon infelix Dido. It broke the charm, +and that breakfast was over.] + +--Don't flatter yourselves that friendship authorizes you to say +disagreeable things to your intimates. On the contrary, the nearer +you come into relation with a person, the more necessary do tact +and courtesy become. Except in cases of necessity, which are rare, +leave your friend to learn unpleasant truths from his enemies; they +are ready enough to tell them. Good-breeding NEVER forgets that +amour-propre is universal. When you read the story of the +Archbishop and Gil Blas, you may laugh, if you will, at the poor +old man's delusion; but don't forget that the youth was the greater +fool of the two, and that his master served such a booby rightly in +turning him out of doors. + +--You need not get up a rebellion against what I say, if you find +everything in my sayings is not exactly new. You can't possibly +mistake a man who means to be honest for a literary pickpocket. I +once read an introductory lecture that looked to me too learned for +its latitude. On examination, I found all its erudition was taken +ready-made from D'Israeli. If I had been ill-natured, I should +have shown up the little great man, who had once belabored me in +his feeble way. But one can generally tell these wholesale thieves +easily enough, and they are not worth the trouble of putting them +in the pillory. I doubt the entire novelty of my remarks just made +on telling unpleasant truths, yet I am not conscious of any +larceny. + +Neither make too much of flaws and occasional overstatements. Some +persons seem to think that absolute truth, in the form of rigidly +stated propositions, is all that conversation admits. This is +precisely as if a musician should insist on having nothing but +perfect chords and simple melodies,--no diminished fifths, no flat +sevenths, no flourishes, on any account. Now it is fair to say, +that, just as music must have all these, so conversation must have +its partial truths, its embellished truths, its exaggerated truths. +It is in its higher forms an artistic product, and admits the ideal +element as much as pictures or statues. One man who is a little +too literal can spoil the talk of a whole tableful of men of +esprit.--"Yes," you say, "but who wants to hear fanciful people's +nonsense? Put the facts to it, and then see where it is!" +--Certainly, if a man is too fond of paradox,--if he is flighty and +empty,--if, instead of striking those fifths and sevenths, those +harmonious discords, often so much better than the twinned octaves, +in the music of thought,--if, instead of striking these, he jangles +the chords, stick a fact into him like a stiletto. But remember +that talking is one of the fine arts,--the noblest, the most +important, and the most difficult,--and that its fluent harmonies +may be spoiled by the intrusion of a single harsh note. Therefore +conversation which is suggestive rather than argumentative, which +lets out the most of each talker's results of thought, is commonly +the pleasantest and the most profitable. It is not easy, at the +best, for two persons talking together to make the most of each +other's thoughts, there are so many of them. + +[The company looked as if they wanted an explanation.] + +When John and Thomas, for instance, are talking together, it is +natural enough that among the six there should be more or less +confusion and misapprehension. + +[Our landlady turned pale;--no doubt she thought there was a screw +loose in my intellects,--and that involved the probable loss of a +boarder. A severe-looking person, who wears a Spanish cloak and a +sad cheek, fluted by the passions of the melodrama, whom I +understand to be the professional ruffian of the neighboring +theatre, alluded, with a certain lifting of the brow, drawing down +of the corners of the mouth, and somewhat rasping voce di petto, to +Falstaff's nine men in buckram. Everybody looked up. I believe +the old gentleman opposite was afraid I should seize the +carving-knife; at any rate, he slid it to one side, as it were +carelessly.] + +I think, I said, I can make it plain to Benjamin Franklin here, +that there are at least six personalities distinctly to be +recognized as taking part in that dialogue between John and Thomas. + +Three Johns. + +1. The real John; known only to his Maker. +2. John's ideal John; never the real one, and often very unlike +him. +3. Thomas's ideal John; never the real John, nor John's John, but +often very unlike either. + +Three Thomas. + +1. The real Thomas. +2. Thomas's ideal Thomas. +3. John's ideal Thomas. + + +Only one of the three Johns is taxed; only one can be weighed on a +platform-balance; but the other two are just as important in the +conversation. Let us suppose the real John to be old, dull, and +ill-looking. But as the Higher Powers have not conferred on men +the gift of seeing themselves in the true light, John very possibly +conceives himself to be youthful, witty, and fascinating, and talks +from the point of view of this ideal. Thomas, again, believes him +to be an artful rogue, we will say; therefore he is, so far as +Thomas's attitude in the conversation is concerned, an artful +rogue, though really simple and stupid. The same conditions apply +to the three Thomases. It follows, that, until a man can be found +who knows himself as his Maker knows him, or who sees himself as +others see him, there must be at least six persons engaged in every +dialogue between two. Of these, the least important, +philosophically speaking, is the one that we have called the real +person. No wonder two disputants often get angry, when there are +six of them talking and listening all at the same time. + +[A very unphilosophical application of the above remarks was made +by a young fellow, answering to the name of John, who sits near me +at table. A certain basket of peaches, a rare vegetable, little +known to boarding-houses, was on its way to me via this unlettered +Johannes. He appropriated the three that remained in the basket, +remarking that there was just one apiece for him. I convinced him +that his practical inference was hasty and illogical, but in the +mean time he had eaten the peaches.] + +--The opinions of relatives as to a man's powers are very commonly +of little value; not merely because they sometimes overrate their +own flesh and blood, as some may suppose; on the contrary, they are +quite as likely to underrate those whom they have grown into the +habit of considering like themselves. The advent of genius is like +what florists style the BREAKING of a seedling tulip into what we +may call high-caste colors,--ten thousand dingy flowers, then one +with the divine streak; or, if you prefer it, like the coming up in +old Jacob's garden of that most gentlemanly little fruit, the +seckel pear, which I have sometimes seen in shop-windows. It is a +surprise,--there is nothing to account for it. All at once we find +that twice two make FIVE. Nature is fond of what are called +"gift-enterprises." This little book of life which she has given into +the hands of its joint possessors is commonly one of the old +story-books bound over again. Only once in a great while there is a +stately poem in it, or its leaves are illuminated with the glories of +art, or they enfold a draft for untold values signed by the +million-fold millionnaire old mother herself. But strangers are +commonly the first to find the "gift" that came with the little book. + +It may be questioned whether anything can be conscious of its own +flavor. Whether the musk-deer, or the civet-cat, or even a still +more eloquently silent animal that might be mentioned, is aware of +any personal peculiarity, may well be doubted. No man knows his +own voice; many men do not know their own profiles. Every one +remembers Carlyle's famous "Characteristics" article; allow for +exaggerations, and there is a great deal in his doctrine of the +self-unconsciousness of genius. It comes under the great law just +stated. This incapacity of knowing its own traits is often found +in the family as well as in the individual. So never mind what +your cousins, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, and the rest, say +about that fine poem you have written, but send it (postage-paid) +to the editors, if there are any, of the "Atlantic,"--which, by the +way, is not so called because it is A NOTION, as some dull wits +wish they had said, but are too late. + +--Scientific knowledge, even in the most modest persons, has +mingled with it a something which partakes of insolence. Absolute, +peremptory facts are bullies, and those who keep company with them +are apt to get a bullying habit of mind;--not of manners, perhaps; +they may be soft and smooth, but the smile they carry has a quiet +assertion in it, such as the Champion of the Heavy Weights, +commonly the best-natured, but not the most diffident of men, wears +upon what he very inelegantly calls his "mug." Take the man, for +instance, who deals in the mathematical sciences. There is no +elasticity in a mathematical fact; if you bring up against it, it +never yields a hair's breadth; everything must go to pieces that +comes in collision with it. What the mathematician knows being +absolute, unconditional, incapable of suffering question, it should +tend, in the nature of things, to breed a despotic way of thinking. +So of those who deal with the palpable and often unmistakable facts +of external nature; only in a less degree. Every probability--and +most of our common, working beliefs are probabilities--is provided +with BUFFERS at both ends, which break the force of opposite +opinions clashing against it; but scientific certainty has no +spring in it, no courtesy, no possibility of yielding. All this +must react on the minds which handle these forms of truth. + +--Oh, you need net tell me that Messrs. A. and B. are the most +gracious, unassuming people in the world, and yet preeminent in the +ranges of science I am referring to. I know that as well as you. +But mark this which I am going to say once for all: If I had not +force enough to project a principle full in the face of the half +dozen most obvious facts which seem to contradict it, I would think +only in single file from this day forward. A rash man, once +visiting a certain noted institution at South Boston, ventured to +express the sentiment, that man is a rational being. An old woman +who was an attendant in the Idiot School contradicted the +statement, and appealed to the facts before the speaker to disprove +it. The rash man stuck to his hasty generalization, +notwithstanding. + +[--It is my desire to be useful to those with whom I am associated +in my daily relations. I not unfrequently practise the divine art +of music in company with our landlady's daughter, who, as I +mentioned before, is the owner of an accordion. Having myself a +well-marked barytone voice of more than half an octave in compass, +I sometimes add my vocal powers to her execution of + + +"Thou, thou reign'st in this bosom." + + +not, however, unless her mother or some other discreet female is +present, to prevent misinterpretation or remark. I have also taken +a good deal of interest in Benjamin Franklin, before referred to, +sometimes called B. F., or more frequently Frank, in imitation of +that felicitous abbreviation, combining dignity and convenience, +adopted by some of his betters. My acquaintance with the French +language is very imperfect, I having never studied it anywhere but +in Paris, which is awkward, as B. F. devotes himself to it with the +peculiar advantage of an Alsacian teacher. The boy, I think, is +doing well, between us, notwithstanding. The following is an +UNCORRECTED French exercise, written by this young gentleman. His +mother thinks it very creditable to his abilities; though, being +unacquainted with the French language, her judgment cannot be +considered final. + + +LE RAT DIES SALONS A LECTURE. + + +Ce rat ci est un animal fort singulier. Il a deux pattes de +derriere sur lesquelles il marche, et deux pattes de devant dont il +fait usage pour tenir les journaux. Cet animal a la peau noire +pour le plupart, et porte un cerele blanchatre autour de son cou. +On le trouve tous les jours aux dits salons, on il demeure, digere, +s'il y a do quoi dans son interieur, respire, tousse, eternue, +dort, et renfle quelquefois, ayant toujours le semblant de lire. +On ne sait pas s'il a une autre gite que cela. Il a l'air d'une +bete tres stupide, mais il est d'une sagacite et d'une vitesse +extraordinaire quand il s'agit de saisir un journal nouveau. On ne +sait pas pourquoi il lit, parcequ'il ne parait pas avoir des idees. +Il vocalise rarement, mais en revanche, il fait des bruits nasaux +divers. Il porte un crayon dans une de ses poches pectorales, avec +lequel il fait des marques sur les bords des journaux et des +livres, semblable aux suivans: !!!--Bah! Pooh! Il ne faut pas +cependant les prendre pour des signes d'intelligence. Il ne vole +pas, ordinairement; il fait rarement meme des echanges de +parapluie, et jamais de chapeau, parceque son chapeau a toujours un +caractere specifique. On ne sait pas au juste ce dont il se +nourrit. Feu Cuvier etait d'avis que c'etait de l'odeur du cuir +des reliures; ce qu'on dit d'etre une nourriture animale fort +saine, et peu chere. Il vit bien longtems. Enfin il meure, en +laissant a ses heritiers une carte du Salon a Lecture on il avait +existe pendant sa vie. On pretend qu'il revient toutes les nuits, +apres la mort, visiter le Salon. On peut le voir, dit on, a +minuit, dans sa place habituelle, tenant le journal du soir, et +ayant a sa main un crayon de charbon. Le lendemain on trouve des +caracteres inconnus sur les bords du journal. Ce qui prouve que le +spiritualisme est vrai, et que Messieurs les Professeurs de +Cambridge sont des imbeciles qui ne savent rien du tout, du tout. + + +I think this exercise, which I have not corrected, or allowed to be +touched in any way, is not discreditable to B. F. You observe that +he is acquiring a knowledge of zoology at the same time that he is +learning French. Fathers of families in moderate circumstances +will find it profitable to their children, and an economical mode +of instruction, to set them to revising and amending this boy's +exercise. The passage was originally taken from the "Histoire +Naturelle des Betes Ruminans et Rongeurs, Bipedes et Autres," +lately published in Paris. This was translated into English and +published in London. It was republished at Great Pedlington, with +notes and additions by the American editor. The notes consist of +an interrogation-mark on page 53d, and a reference (p. 127th) to +another book "edited" by the same hand. The additions consist of +the editor's name on the title-page and back, with a complete and +authentic list of said editor's honorary titles in the first of +these localities. Our boy translated the translation back into +French. This may be compared with the original, to be found on +Shelf 13, Division X, of the Public Library of this metropolis.] + +--Some of you boarders ask me from time to time why I don't write a +story, or a novel, or something of that kind. Instead of answering +each one of you separately, I will thank you to step up into the +wholesale department for a few moments, where I deal in answers by +the piece and by the bale. + +That every articulately-speaking human being has in him stuff for +ONE novel in three volumes duodecimo has long been with me a +cherished belief. It has been maintained, on the other hand, that +many persons cannot write more than one novel,--that all after that +are likely to be failures.--Life is so much more tremendous a thing +in its heights and depths than any transcript of it can be, that +all records of human experience are as so many bound herbaria to +the innumerable glowing, glistening, rustling, breathing, +fragrance-laden, poison-sucking, life-giving, death-distilling +leaves and flowers of the forest and the prairies. All we can do +with books of human experience is to make them alive again with +something borrowed from our own lives. We can make a book alive +for us just in proportion to its resemblance in essence or in form +to our own experience. Now an author's first novel is naturally +drawn, to a great extent, from his personal experiences; that is, +is a literal copy of nature under various slight disguises. But +the moment the author gets out of his personality, he must have the +creative power, as well as the narrative art and the sentiment, in +order to tell a living story; and this is rare. + +Besides, there is great danger that a man's first life-story shall +clean him out, so to speak, of his best thoughts. Most lives, +though their stream is loaded with sand and turbid with alluvial +waste, drop a few golden grains of wisdom as they flow along. +Oftentimes a single CRADLING gets them all, and after that the poor +man's labor is only rewarded by mud and worn pebbles. All which +proves that I, as an individual of the human family, could write +one novel or story at any rate, if I would. + +--Why don't I, then?--Well, there are several reasons against it. +In the first place, I should tell all my secrets, and I maintain +that verse is the proper medium for such revelations. Rhythm and +rhyme and the harmonies of musical language, the play of fancy, the +fire of imagination, the flashes of passion, so hide the nakedness +of a heart laid open, that hardly any confession, transfigured in +the luminous halo of poetry, is reproached as self-exposure. A +beauty shows herself under the chandeliers, protected by the +glitter of her diamonds, with such a broad snowdrift of white arms +and shoulders laid bare, that, were she unadorned and in plain +calico, she would be unendurable--in the opinion of the ladies. + +Again, I am terribly afraid I should show up all my friends. I +should like to know if all story-tellers do not do this? Now I am +afraid all my friends would not bear showing up very well; for they +have an average share of the common weakness of humanity, which I +am pretty certain would come out. Of all that have told stories +among us there is hardly one I can recall who has not drawn too +faithfully some living portrait that might better have been spared. + +Once more, I have sometimes thought it possible I might be too dull +to write such a story as I should wish to write. + +And finally, I think it very likely I SHALL write a story one of +these days. Don't be surprised at any time, if you see me coming +out with "The Schoolmistress," or "The Old Gentleman Opposite." +[OUR schoolmistress and OUR old gentleman that sits opposite had +left the table before I said this.] I want my glory for writing +the same discounted now, on the spot, if you please. I will write +when I get ready. How many people live on the reputation of the +reputation they might have made! + +--I saw you smiled when I spoke about the possibility of my being +too dull to write a good story. I don't pretend to know what you +meant by it, but I take occasion to make a remark which may +hereafter prove of value to some among you.--When one of us who has +been led by native vanity or senseless flattery to think himself or +herself possessed of talent arrives at the full and final +conclusion that he or she is really dull, it is one of the +most tranquillizing and blessed convictions that can enter a +mortal's mind. All our failures, our shortcomings, our strange +disappointments in the effect of our efforts are lifted from our +bruised shoulders, and fall, like Christian's pack, at the feet of +that Omnipotence which has seen fit to deny us the pleasant gift of +high intelligence,--with which one look may overflow us in some +wider sphere of being. + +--How sweetly and honestly one said to me the other day, "I hate +books!" A gentleman,--singularly free from affectations,--not +learned, of course, but of perfect breeding, which is often so much +better than learning,--by no means dull, in the sense of knowledge +of the world and society, but certainly not clever either in the +arts or sciences,--his company is pleasing to all who know him. I +did not recognize in him inferiority of literary taste half so +distinctly as I did simplicity of character and fearless +acknowledgment of his inaptitude for scholarship. In fact, I think +there are a great many gentlemen and others, who read with a mark +to keep their place, that really "hate books," but never had the +wit to find it out, or the manliness to own it. [Entre nous, I +always read with a mark.] + +We get into a way of thinking as if what we call an "intellectual +man" was, as a matter of course, made up of nine-tenths, or +thereabouts, of book-learning, and one-tenth himself. But even if +he is actually so compounded, he need not read much. Society is a +strong solution of books. It draws the virtue out of what is best +worth reading, as hot water draws the strength of tea-leaves. If +_I_ were a prince, I would hire or buy a private literary tea-pot, +in which I would steep all the leaves of new books that promised +well. The infusion would do for me without the vegetable fibre. +You understand me; I would have a person whose sole business should +be to read day and night, and talk to me whenever I wanted him to. +I know the man I would have: a quick-witted, out-spoken, incisive +fellow; knows history, or at any rate has a shelf full of books +about it, which he can use handily, and the same of all useful arts +and sciences; knows all the common plots of plays and novels, and +the stock company of characters that are continually coming on in +new costume; can give you a criticism of an octavo in an epithet +and a wink, and you can depend on it; cares for nobody except for +the virtue there is in what he says; delights in taking off big +wigs and professional gowns, and in the disembalming and +unbandaging of all literary mummies. Yet he is as tender and +reverential to all that bears the mark of genius,--that is, of a +new influx of truth or beauty,--as a nun over her missal. In +short, he is one of those men that know everything except how to +make a living. Him would I keep on the square next my own royal +compartment on life's chessboard. To him I would push up another +pawn, in the shape of a comely and wise young woman, whom he would +of course take--to wife. For all contingencies I would liberally +provide. In a word, I would, in the plebeian, but expressive +phrase, "put him through" all the material part of life; see him +sheltered, warmed, fed, button-mended, and all that, just to be +able to lay on his talk when I liked,--with the privilege of +shutting it off at will. + +A Club is the next best thing to this, strung like a harp, with +about a dozen ringing intelligences, each answering to some chord +of the macrocosm. They do well to dine together once in a while. +A dinner-party made up of such elements is the last triumph of +civilization over barbarism. Nature and art combine to charm the +senses; the equatorial zone of the system is soothed by +well-studied artifices; the faculties are off duty, and fall into +their natural attitudes; you see wisdom in slippers and science in a +short jacket. + +The whole force of conversation depends on how much you can take +for granted. Vulgar chess-players have to play their game out; +nothing short of the brutality of an actual checkmate satisfies +their dull apprehensions. But look at two masters of that noble +game! White stands well enough, so far as you can see; but Red +says, Mate in six moves;--White looks,--nods;--the game is over. +Just so in talking with first-rate men; especially when they are +good-natured and expansive, as they are apt to be at table. That +blessed clairvoyance which sees into things without opening them, +--that glorious license, which, having shut the door and driven the +reporter from its key-hole, calls upon Truth, majestic virgin! to +get off from her pedestal and drop her academic poses, and take a +festive garland and the vacant place on the medius lectus,--that +carnival-shower of questions and replies and comments, large axioms +bowled over the mahogany like bomb-shells from professional +mortars, and explosive wit dropping its trains of many-colored +fire, and the mischief-making rain of bon-bons pelting everybody +that shows himself,--the picture of a truly intellectual banquet is +one which the old Divinities might well have attempted to reproduce +in their-- + +--"Oh, oh, oh!" cried the young fellow whom they call John,--"that +is from one of your lectures!" + +I know it, I replied,--I concede it, I confess it, I proclaim it. + + +"The trail of the serpent is over them all!" + + +All lecturers, all professors, all schoolmasters, have ruts and +grooves in their minds into which their conversation is perpetually +sliding. Did you never, in riding through the woods of a still +June evening, suddenly feel that you had passed into a warm stratum +of air, and in a minute or two strike the chill layer of atmosphere +beyond? Did you never, in cleaving the green waters of the Back +Bay,--where the Provincial blue-noses are in the habit of beating +the "Metropolitan" boat-clubs,--find yourself in a tepid streak, a +narrow, local gulf-stream, a gratuitous warm-bath a little +underdone, through which your glistening shoulders soon flashed, to +bring you back to the cold realities of full-sea temperature? Just +so, in talking with any of the characters above referred to, one +not unfrequently finds a sudden change in the style of the +conversation. The lack-lustre eye rayless as a Beacon-Street +door-plate in August, all at once fills with light; the face flings +itself wide open like the church-portals when the bride and +bridegroom enter; the little man grows in stature before your eyes, +like the small prisoner with hair on end, beloved yet dreaded of +early childhood; you were talking with a dwarf and an imbecile, +--you have a giant and a trumpet-tongued angel before you!--Nothing +but a streak out of a fifty-dollar lecture.--As when, at some +unlooked-for moment, the mighty fountain-column springs into the +air before the astonished passer-by,--silver-footed, diamond- +crowned, rainbow-scarfed,--from the bosom of that fair sheet, +sacred to the hymns of quiet batrachians at home, and the epigrams +of a less amiable and less elevated order of reptilia in other +latitudes. + +--Who was that person that was so abused some time since for saying +that in the conflict of two races our sympathies naturally go with +the higher? No matter who he was. Now look at what is going on in +India,--a white, superior "Caucasian" race, against a dark-skinned, +inferior, but still "Caucasian" race,--and where are English and +American sympathies? We can't stop to settle all the doubtful +questions; all we know is, that the brute nature is sure to come +out most strongly in the lower race, and it is the general law that +the human side of humanity should treat the brutal side as it does +the same nature in the inferior animals,--tame it or crush it. The +India mail brings stories of women and children outraged and +murdered; the royal stronghold is in the hands of the babe-killers. +England takes down the Map of the World, which she has girdled with +empire, and makes a correction thus: [DELPHI] Dele. The civilized +world says, Amen. + +--Do not think, because I talk to you of many subjects briefly, +that I should not find it much lazier work to take each one of them +and dilute it down to an essay. Borrow some of my old college +themes and water my remarks to suit yourselves, as the Homeric +heroes did with their melas oinos,--that black sweet, syrupy wine +(?) which they used to alloy with three parts or more of the +flowing stream. [Could it have been melasses, as Webster and his +provincials spell it,--or Molossa's, as dear old smattering, +chattering, would-be-College-President, Cotton Mather, has it in +the "Magnalia"? Ponder thereon, ye small antiquaries who make +barn-door-fowl flights of learning in "Notes and Queries!"--ye +Historical Societies, in one of whose venerable triremes I, too, +ascend the stream of time, while other hands tug at the oars!--ye +Amines of parasitical literature, who pick up your grains of +native-grown food with a bodkin, having gorged upon less honest +fare, until, like the great minds Goethe speaks of, you have "made +a Golgotha" of your pages!--ponder thereon!] + +--Before you go, this morning, I want to read you a copy of verses. +You will understand by the title that they are written in an +imaginary character. I don't doubt they will fit some family-man +well enough. I send it forth as "Oak Hall" projects a coat, on a +priori grounds of conviction that it will suit somebody. There is +no loftier illustration of faith than this. It believes that a +soul has been clad in flesh; that tender parents have fed and +nurtured it; that its mysterious compages or frame-work has +survived its myriad exposures and reached the stature of maturity; +that the Man, now self-determining, has given in his adhesion to +the traditions and habits of the race in favor of artificial +clothing; that he will, having all the world to choose from, select +the very locality where this audacious generalization has been +acted upon. It builds a garment cut to the pattern of an Idea, and +trusts that Nature will model a material shape to fit it. There is +a prophecy in every seam, and its pockets are full of inspiration. +--Now hear the verses. + + +THE OLD MAN DREAMS. + + +O for one hour of youthful joy! +Give back my twentieth spring! +I'd rather laugh a bright-haired boy +Than reign a gray-beard king! + +Off with the wrinkled spoils of age! +Away with learning's crown! +Tear out life's wisdom-written page, +And dash its trophies down! + +One moment let my life-blood stream +From boyhood's fount of flame! +Give me one giddy, reeling dream +Of life all love and fame! + +--My listening angel heard the prayer, +And calmly smiling, said, +"If I but touch thy silvered hair, +Thy hasty wish hath sped. + +"But is there nothing in thy track +To bid thee fondly stay, +While the swift seasons hurry back +To find the wished-for day?" + +--Ah, truest soul of womankind! +Without thee, what were life? +One bliss I cannot leave behind: +I'll take--my--precious wife! + +--The angel took a sapphire pen +And wrote in rainbow dew, +"The man would be a boy again, +And be a husband too!" + +--"And is there nothing yet unsaid +Before the change appears? +Remember, all their gifts have fled +With those dissolving years!" + +Why, yes; for memory would recall +My fond paternal joys; +I could not bear to leave them all; +I'll take--my--girl--and--boys! + +The smiling angel dropped his pen,-- +"Why this will never do; +The man would be a boy again, +And be a father too!" + +And so I laughed,--my laughter woke +The household with its noise,-- +And wrote my dream, when morning broke, +To please the gray-haired boys. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + + +[I am so well pleased with my boarding-house that I intend to +remain there, perhaps for years. Of course I shall have a great +many conversations to report, and they will necessarily be of +different tone and on different subjects. The talks are like the +breakfasts,--sometimes dipped toast, and sometimes dry. You must +take them as they come. How can I do what all these letters ask me +to? No. 1. want serious and earnest thought. No. 2. (letter +smells of bad cigars) must have more jokes; wants me to tell a +"good storey" which he has copied out for me. (I suppose two +letters before the word "good" refer to some Doctor of Divinity who +told the story.) No. 3. (in female hand)--more poetry. No. 4. +wants something that would be of use to a practical man. +(Prahctical mahn he probably pronounces it.) No. 5. (gilt-edged, +sweet-scented)--"more sentiment,"--"heart's outpourings."-- + +My dear friends, one and all, I can do nothing but report such +remarks as I happen to have made at our breakfast-table. Their +character will depend on many accidents,--a good deal on the +particular persons in the company to whom they were addressed. It +so happens that those which follow were mainly intended for the +divinity-student and the school-mistress; though others, whom I +need not mention, saw to interfere, with more or less propriety, in +the conversation. This is one of my privileges as a talker; and of +course, if I was not talking for our whole company, I don't expect +all the readers of this periodical to be interested in my notes of +what was said. Still, I think there may be a few that will rather +like this vein,--possibly prefer it to a livelier one,--serious +young men, and young women generally, in life's roseate parenthesis +from--years of age to--inclusive. + +Another privilege of talking is to misquote.--Of course it wasn't +Proserpina that actually cut the yellow hair,--but Iris. (As I +have since told you) it was the former lady's regular business, but +Dido had used herself ungenteelly, and Madame d'Enfer stood firm on +the point of etiquette. So the bathycolpian Here--Juno, in Latin +--sent down Iris instead. But I was mightily pleased to see that one +of the gentlemen that do the heavy articles for the celebrated +"Oceanic Miscellany" misquoted Campbell's line without any excuse. +"Waft us HOME the MESSAGE" of course it ought to be. Will he be +duly grateful for the correction?] + +--The more we study the body and the mind, the more we find both to +be governed, not by, but ACCORDING TO laws, such as we observe in +the larger universe.--You think you know all about WALKING,--don't +you, now? Well, how do you suppose your lower limbs are held to +your body? They are sucked up by two cupping vessels, ("cotyloid" +--cup-like--cavities,) and held there as long as you live, and +longer. At any rate, you think you move them backward and forward +at such a rate as your will determines, don't you?--On the +contrary, they swing just as any other pendulums swing, at a fixed +rate, determined by their length. You can alter this by muscular +power, as you can take hold of the pendulum of a clock and make it +move faster or slower; but your ordinary gait is timed by the same +mechanism as the movements of the solar system. + +[My friend, the Professor, told me all this, referring me to +certain German physiologists by the name of Weber for proof of the +facts, which, however, he said he had often verified. I +appropriated it to my own use; what can one do better than this, +when one has a friend that tells him anything worth remembering? + +The Professor seems to think that man and the general powers of the +universe are in partnership. Some one was saying that it had cost +nearly half a million to move the Leviathan only so far as they had +got it already.--Why,--said the Professor,--they might have hired +an EARTHQUAKE for less money!] + +Just as we find a mathematical rule at the bottom of many of the +bodily movements, just so thought may be supposed to have its +regular cycles. Such or such a thought comes round periodically, +in its turn. Accidental suggestions, however, so far interfere +with the regular cycles, that we may find them practically beyond +our power of recognition. Take all this for what it is worth, but +at any rate you will agree that there are certain particular +thoughts that do not come up once a day, nor once a week, but that +a year would hardly go round without your having them pass through +your mind. Here is one which comes up at intervals in this way. +Some one speaks of it, and there is an instant and eager smile of +assent in the listener or listeners. Yes, indeed; they have often +been struck by it. + +ALL AT ONCE A CONVICTION FLASHES THROUGH US THAT WE HAVE BEEN IN +THE SAME PRECISE CIRCUMSTANCES AS AT THE PRESENT INSTANT, ONCE OR +MANY TIMES BEFORE. + +O, dear, yes!--said one of the company,--everybody has had that +feeling. + +The landlady didn't know anything about such notions; it was an +idee in folks' heads, she expected. + +The schoolmistress said, in a hesitating sort of way, that she knew +the feeling well, and didn't like to experience it; it made her +think she was a ghost, sometimes. + +The young fellow whom they call John said he knew all about it; he +had just lighted a cheroot the other day, when a tremendous +conviction all at once came over him that he had done just that +same thing ever so many times before. I looked severely at him, +and his countenance immediately fell--ON THE SIDE TOWARD ME; I +cannot answer for the other, for he can wink and laugh with either +half of his face without the other half's knowing it. + +--I have noticed--I went on to say--the following circumstances +connected with these sudden impressions. First, that the condition +which seems to be the duplicate of a former one is often very +trivial,--one that might have presented itself a hundred times. +Secondly, that the impression is very evanescent, and that it is +rarely, if ever, recalled by any voluntary effort, at least after +any time has elapsed. Thirdly, that there is a disinclination to +record the circumstances, and a sense of incapacity to reproduce +the state of mind in words. Fourthly, I have often felt that the +duplicate condition had not only occurred once before, but that it +was familiar and, as it seemed, habitual. Lastly, I have had the +same convictions in my dreams. + +How do I account for it?--Why, there are several ways that I can +mention, and you may take your choice. The first is that which the +young lady hinted at;--that these flashes are sudden recollections +of a previous existence. I don't believe that; for I remember a +poor student I used to know told me he had such a conviction one +day when he was blacking his boots, and I can't think he had ever +lived in another world where they use Day and Martin. + +Some think that Dr. Wigan's doctrine of the brain's being a double +organ, its hemispheres working together like the two eyes, accounts +for it. One of the hemispheres hangs fire, they suppose, and the +small interval between the perceptions of the nimble and the +sluggish half seems an indefinitely long period, and therefore the +second perception appears to be the copy of another, ever so old. +But even allowing the centre of perception to be double, I can see +no good reason for supposing this indefinite lengthening of the +time, nor any analogy that bears it out. It seems to me most +likely that the coincidence of circumstances is very partial, but +that we take this partial resemblance for identity, as we +occasionally do resemblances of persons. A momentary posture of +circumstances is so far like some preceding one that we accept it +as exactly the same, just as we accost a stranger occasionally, +mistaking him for a friend. The apparent similarity may be owing +perhaps, quite as much to the mental state at the time, as to the +outward circumstances. + +--Here is another of these curiously recurring remarks. I have +said it, and heard it many times, and occasionally met with +something like it in books,--somewhere in Bulwer's novels, I think, +and in one of the works of Mr. Olmsted, I know. + +MEMORY, IMAGINATION, OLD SENTIMENTS AND ASSOCIATIONS, ARE MORE +READILY REACHED THROUGH THE SENSE OF SMELL THAN BY ALMOST ANY OTHER +CHANNEL. + +Of course the particular odors which act upon each person's +susceptibilities differ.--O, yes! I will tell you some of mine. +The smell of PHOSPHORUS is one of them. During a year or two of +adolescence I used to be dabbling in chemistry a good deal, and as +about that time I had my little aspirations and passions like +another, some of these things got mixed up with each other: +orange-colored fumes of nitrous acid, and visions as bright and +transient; reddening litmus-paper, and blushing cheeks;--eheu! + + +"Soles occidere et redire possunt," + + +but there is no reagent that will redden the faded roses of +eighteen hundred and--spare them! But, as I was saying, phosphorus +fires this train of associations in an instant; its luminous vapors +with their penetrating odor throw me into a trance; it comes to me +in a double sense "trailing clouds of glory." Only the confounded +Vienna matches, ohne phosphor-geruch, have worn my sensibilities a +little. + +Then there is the MARIGOLD. When I was of smallest dimensions, and +wont to ride impacted between the knees of fond parental pair, we +would sometimes cross the bridge to the next village-town and stop +opposite a low, brown, "gambrel-roofed" cottage. Out of it would +come one Sally, sister of its swarthy tenant, swarthy herself, +shady-lipped, sad-voiced, and, bending over her flower-bed, would +gather a "posy," as she called it, for the little boy. Sally lies +in the churchyard with a slab of blue slate at her head, lichen- +crusted, and leaning a little within the last few years. Cottage, +garden-beds, posies, grenadier-like rows of seedling onions, +--stateliest of vegetables,--all are gone, but the breath of a +marigold brings them all back to me. + +Perhaps the herb EVERLASTING, the fragrant immortelle of our autumn +fields, has the most suggestive odor to me of all those that set me +dreaming. I can hardly describe the strange thoughts and emotions +that come to me as I inhale the aroma of its pale, dry, rustling +flowers. A something it has of sepulchral spicery, as if it had +been brought from the core of some great pyramid, where it had lain +on the breast of a mummied Pharaoh. Something, too, of immortality +in the sad, faint sweetness lingering so long in its lifeless +petals. Yet this does not tell why it fills my eyes with tears and +carries me in blissful thought to the banks of asphodel that border +the River of Life. + +--I should not have talked so much about these personal +susceptibilities, if I had not a remark to make about them which I +believe is a new one. It is this. There may be a physical reason +for the strange connection between the sense of smell and the mind. +The olfactory nerve--so my friend, the Professor, tells me--is the +only one directly connected with the hemispheres of the brain, the +parts in which, as we have every reason to believe, the +intellectual processes are performed. To speak more truly the +olfactory "nerve" is not a nerve at all, he says, but a part of the +brain, in intimate connection with its anterior lobes. Whether +this anatomical arrangement is at the bottom of the facts I have +mentioned, I will not decide, but it is curious enough to be worth +remembering. Contrast the sense of taste, as a source of +suggestive impressions, with that of smell. Now the Professor +assures me that you will find the nerve of taste has no immediate +connection with the brain proper, but only with the prolongation of +the spinal cord. + +[The old gentleman opposite did not pay much attention, I think, to +this hypothesis of mine. But while I was speaking about the sense +of smell he nestled about in his seat, and presently succeeded in +getting out a large red bandanna handkerchief. Then he lurched a +little to the other side, and after much tribulation at last +extricated an ample round snuff-box. I looked as he opened it and +felt for the wonted pugil. Moist rappee, and a Tonka-bean lying +therein. I made the manual sign understood of all mankind that use +the precious dust, and presently my brain, too, responded to the +long unused stimulus--O boys,--that were,--actual papas and +possible grandpapas,--some of you with crowns like billiard-balls, +--some in locks of sable silvered, and some of silver sabled,--do +you remember, as you doze over this, those after-dinners at the +Trois Freres when the Scotch-plaided snuff-box went round, and the +dry Lundy-Foot tickled its way along into our happy sensoria? Then +it was that the Chambertin or the Clos Vougeot came in, slumbering +in its straw cradle. And one among you,--do you remember how he +would have a bit of ice always in his Burgundy, and sit tinkling it +against the sides of the bubble-like glass, saying that he +was hearing the cow-bells as he used to hear them, when the +deep-breathing kine came home at twilight from the huckleberry +pasture, in the old home a thousand leagues towards the sunset?] + +Ah me! what strains and strophes of unwritten verse pulsate through +my soul when I open a certain closet in the ancient house where I +was born! On its shelves used to lie bundles of sweet-marjoram and +pennyroyal and lavender and mint and catnip; there apples were +stored until their seeds should grow black, which happy period +there were sharp little milk-teeth always ready to anticipate; +there peaches lay in the dark, thinking of the sunshine they had +lost, until, like the hearts of saints that dream of heaven in +their sorrow, they grew fragrant as the breath of angels. The +odorous echo of a score of dead summers lingers yet in those dim +recesses. + +--Do I remember Byron's line about "striking the electric chain"? +--To be sure I do. I sometimes think the less the hint that stirs +the automatic machinery of association, the more easily this moves +us. What can be more trivial than that old story of opening the +folio Shakspeare that used to lie in some ancient English hall and +finding the flakes of Christmas pastry between its leaves, shut up +in them perhaps a hundred years ago? And, lo! as one looks on +these poor relics of a bygone generation, the universe changes in +the twinkling of an eye; old George the Second is back again, and +the elder Pitt is coming into power, and General Wolfe is a fine, +promising young man, and over the Channel they are pulling the +Sieur Damiens to pieces with wild horses, and across the Atlantic +the Indians are tomahawking Hirams and Jonathans and Jonases at +Fort William Henry; all the dead people who have been in the dust +so long--even to the stout-armed cook that made the pastry--are +alive again; the planet unwinds a hundred of its luminous coils, +and the precession of the equinoxes is retraced on the dial of +heaven! And all this for a bit of pie-crust! + +--I will thank you for that pie,--said the provoking young fellow +whom I have named repeatedly. He looked at it for a moment, and +put his hands to his eyes as if moved.--I was thinking,--he said +indistinctly-- + +--How? What is't?--said our landlady. + +--I was thinking--said he--who was king of England when this old +pie was baked,--and it made me feel bad to think how long he must +have been dead. + +[Our landlady is a decent body, poor, and a widow, of course; cela +va sans dire. She told me her story once; it was as if a grain of +corn that had been ground and bolted had tried to individualize +itself by a special narrative. There was the wooing and the +wedding,--the start in life,--the disappointments,--the children +she had buried,--the struggle against fate,--the dismantling of +life, first of its small luxuries, and then of its comforts,--the +broken spirits,--the altered character of the one on whom she +leaned,--and at last the death that came and drew the black curtain +between her and all her earthly hopes. + +I never laughed at my landlady after she had told me her story, but +I often cried,--not those pattering tears that run off the eaves +upon our neighbors' grounds, the stillicidium of self-conscious +sentiment, but those which steal noiselessly through their conduits +until they reach the cisterns lying round about the heart; those +tears that we weep inwardly with unchanging features;--such I did +shed for her often when the imps of the boarding-house Inferno +tugged at her soul with their red-hot pincers.] + +Young man,--I said,--the pasty you speak lightly of is not old, but +courtesy to those who labor to serve us, especially if they are of +the weaker sex, is very old, and yet well worth retaining. May I +recommend to you the following caution, as a guide, whenever you +are dealing with a woman, or an artist, or a poet--if you are +handling an editor or politician, it is superfluous advice. I take +it from the back of one of those little French toys which contain +pasteboard figures moved by a small running stream of fine sand; +Benjamin Franklin will translate it for you: "Quoiqu'elle soit +tres solidement montee, il faut ne pas BRUTALISER la machine."--I +will thank you for the pie, if you please. + +[I took more of it than was good for me--as much as 85 degrees, I +should think,--and had an indigestion in consequence. While I was +suffering from it, I wrote some sadly desponding poems, and a +theological essay which took a very melancholy view of creation. +When I got better I labelled them all "Pie-crust," and laid them by +as scarecrows and solemn warnings. I have a number of books on my +shelves that I should like to label with some such title; but, as +they have great names on their title-pages,--Doctors of Divinity, +some of them,--it wouldn't do.] + +--My friend, the Professor, whom I have mentioned to you once or +twice, told me yesterday that somebody had been abusing him in some +of the journals of his calling. I told him that I didn't doubt he +deserved it; that I hoped he did deserve a little abuse +occasionally, and would for a number of years to come; that nobody +could do anything to make his neighbors wiser or better without +being liable to abuse for it; especially that people hated to have +their little mistakes made fun of, and perhaps he had been doing +something of the kind.--The Professor smiled.--Now, said I, hear +what I am going to say. It will not take many years to bring you +to the period of life when men, at least the majority of writing +and talking men, do nothing but praise. Men, like peaches and +pears, grow sweet a little while before they begin to decay. I +don't know what it is,--whether a spontaneous change, mental or +bodily, or whether it is thorough experience of the thanklessness +of critical honesty,--but it is a fact, that most writers, except +sour and unsuccessful ones, get tired of finding fault at about the +time when they are beginning to grow old. As a general thing, I +would not give a great deal for the fair words of a critic, if he +is himself an author, over fifty years of age. At thirty we are +all trying to cut our names in big letters upon the walls of this +tenement of life; twenty years later we have carved it, or shut up +our jack-knives. Then we are ready to help others, and care less +to hinder any, because nobody's elbows are in our way. So I am +glad you have a little life left; you will be saccharine enough in +a few years. + +--Some of the softening effects of advancing age have struck me +very much in what I have heard or seen here and elsewhere. I just +now spoke of the sweetening process that authors undergo. Do you +know that in the gradual passage from maturity to helplessness the +harshest characters sometimes have a period in which they are +gentle and placid as young children? I have heard it said, but I +cannot be sponsor for its truth, that the famous chieftain, +Lochiel, was rocked in a cradle like a baby, in his old age. An +old man, whose studies had been of the severest scholastic kind, +used to love to hear little nursery-stories read over and over to +him. One who saw the Duke of Wellington in his last years +describes him as very gentle in his aspect and demeanor. I +remember a person of singularly stern and lofty bearing who became +remarkably gracious and easy in all his ways in the later period of +his life. + +And that leads me to say that men often remind me of pears in their +way of coming to maturity. Some are ripe at twenty, like human +Jargonelles, and must be made the most of, for their day is soon +over. Some come into their perfect condition late, like the autumn +kinds, and they last better than the summer fruit. And some, that, +like the Winter-Nelis, have been hard and uninviting until all the +rest have had their season, get their glow and perfume long after +the frost and snow have done their worst with the orchards. Beware +of rash criticisms; the rough and stringent fruit you condemn may +be an autumn or a winter pear, and that which you picked up beneath +the same bough in August may have been only its worm-eaten +windfalls. Milton was a Saint-Germain with a graft of the roseate +Early-Catherine. Rich, juicy, lively, fragrant, russet skinned old +Chaucer was an Easter-Beurre; the buds of a new summer were +swelling when he ripened. + +--There is no power I envy so much--said the divinity-student--as +that of seeing analogies and making comparisons. I don't +understand how it is that some minds are continually coupling +thoughts or objects that seem not in the least related to each +other, until all at once they are put in a certain light, and you +wonder that you did not always see that they were as like as a pair +of twins. It appears to me a sort of miraculous gift. + +[He is rather a nice young man, and I think has an appreciation of +the higher mental qualities remarkable for one of his years and +training. I try his head occasionally as housewives try eggs, +--give it an intellectual shake and hold it up to the light, so to +speak, to see if it has life in it, actual or potential, or only +contains lifeless albumen.] + +You call it MIRACULOUS,--I replied,--tossing the expression with my +facial eminence, a little smartly, I fear.--Two men are walking by +the polyphloesboean ocean, one of them having a small tin cup with +which he can scoop up a gill of sea-water when he will, and the +other nothing but his hands, which will hardly hold water at all, +--and you call the tin cup a miraculous possession! It is the ocean +that is the miracle, my infant apostle! Nothing is clearer than +that all things are in all things, and that just according to the +intensity and extension of our mental being we shall see the many +in the one and the one in the many. Did Sir Isaac think what he +was saying when he made HIS speech about the ocean,--the child and +the pebbles, you know? Did he mean to speak slightingly of a +pebble? Of a spherical solid which stood sentinel over its +compartment of space before the stone that became the pyramids had +grown solid, and has watched it until now! A body which knows all +the currents of force that traverse the globe; which holds by +invisible threads to the ring of Saturn and the belt of Orion! A +body from the contemplation of which an archangel could infer the +entire inorganic universe as the simplest of corollaries! A throne +of the all-pervading Deity, who has guided its every atom since the +rosary of heaven was strung with beaded stars! + +So,--to return to OUR walk by the ocean,--if all that poetry has +dreamed, all that insanity has raved, all that maddening narcotics +have driven through the brains of men, or smothered passion nursed +in the fancies of women,--if the dreams of colleges and convents +and boarding-schools,--if every human feeling that sighs, or +smiles, or curses, or shrieks, or groans, should bring all their +innumerable images, such as come with every hurried heart-beat, +--the epic which held them all, though its letters filled the zodiac, +would be but a cupful from the infinite ocean of similitudes and +analogies that rolls through the universe. + +[The divinity-student honored himself by the way in which he +received this. He did not swallow it at once, neither did he +reject it; but he took it as a pickerel takes the bait, and carried +it off with him to his hole (in the fourth story) to deal with at +his leisure.] + +--Here is another remark made for his especial benefit.--There is a +natural tendency in many persons to run their adjectives together +in TRIADS, as I have heard them called,--thus: He was honorable, +courteous, and brave; she was graceful, pleasing, and virtuous. +Dr. Johnson is famous for this; I think it was Bulwer who said you +could separate a paper in the "Rambler" into three distinct essays. +Many of our writers show the same tendency,--my friend, the +Professor, especially. Some think it is in humble imitation of +Johnson,--some that it is for the sake of the stately sound only. +I don't think they get to the bottom of it. It is, I suspect, an +instinctive and involuntary effort of the mind to present a thought +or image with the THREE DIMENSIONS that belong to every solid,--an +unconscious handling of an idea as if it had length, breadth, and +thickness. It is a great deal easier to say this than to prove it, +and a great deal easier to dispute it than to disprove it. But +mind this: the more we observe and study, the wider we find the +range of the automatic and instinctive principles in body, mind, +and morals, and the narrower the limits of the self-determining +conscious movement. + +--I have often seen piano-forte players and singers make such +strange motions over their instruments or song-books that I wanted +to laugh at them. "Where did our friends pick up all these fine +ecstatic airs?" I would say to myself. Then I would remember My +Lady in "Marriage a la Mode," and amuse myself with thinking how +affectation was the same thing in Hogarth's time and in our own. +But one day I bought me a Canary-bird and hung him up in a cage at +my window. By-and-by he found himself at home, and began to pipe +his little tunes; and there he was, sure enough, swimming and +waving about, with all the droopings and liftings and languishing +side-turnings of the head that I had laughed at. And now I should +like to ask, WHO taught him all this?--and me, through him, that +the foolish head was not the one swinging itself from side to side +and bowing and nodding over the music, but that other which was +passing its shallow and self-satisfied judgment on a creature made +of finer clay than the frame which carried that same head upon its +shoulders? + +--Do you want an image of the human will, or the self-determining +principle, as compared with its prearranged and impassable +restrictions? A drop of water, imprisoned in a crystal; you may +see such a one in any mineralogical collection. One little fluid +particle in the crystalline prism of the solid universe! + +--Weaken moral obligations?--No, not weaken, but define them. When +I preach that sermon I spoke of the other day, I shall have to lay +down some principles not fully recognized in some of your +text-books. + +I should have to begin with one most formidable preliminary. You +saw an article the other day in one of the journals, perhaps, in +which some old Doctor or other said quietly that patients were very +apt to be fools and cowards. But a great many of the clergyman's +patients are not only fools and cowards, but also liars. + +[Immense sensation at the table.--Sudden retirement of the angular +female in oxydated bombazine. Movement of adhesion--as they say in +the Chamber of Deputies--on the part of the young fellow they call +John. Falling of the old-gentleman-opposite's lower jaw +--(gravitation is beginning to get the better of him.) Our landlady +to Benjamin Franklin, briskly,--Go to school right off, there's a +good boy! Schoolmistress curious,--takes a quick glance at +divinity-student. Divinity-student slightly flushed draws his +shoulders back a little, as if a big falsehood--or truth--had hit +him in the forehead. Myself calm.] + +--I should not make such a speech as that, you know, without having +pretty substantial indorsers to fall back upon, in case my credit +should be disputed. Will you run up stairs, Benjamin Franklin, +(for B. F. had NOT gone right off, of course,) and bring down a +small volume from the left upper corner of the right-hand shelves? + +[Look at the precious little black, ribbed backed, clean-typed, +vellum-papered 32mo. "DESIDERII ERASMI COLLOQUIA. Amstelodami. +Typis Ludovici Elzevirii. 1650." Various names written on +title-page. Most conspicuous this: Gul. Cookeson E. Coll. Omn. +Anim. 1725. Oxon. + +--O William Cookeson, of All-Souls College, Oxford,--then writing +as I now write,--now in the dust, where I shall lie,--is this line +all that remains to thee of earthly remembrance? Thy name is at +least once more spoken by living men;--is it a pleasure to thee? +Thou shalt share with me my little draught of immortality,--its +week, its month, its year,--whatever it may be,--and then we will +go together into the solemn archives of Oblivion's Uncatalogued +Library!] + +--If you think I have used rather strong language, I shall have to +read something to you out of the book of this keen and witty +scholar,--the great Erasmus,--who "laid the egg of the Reformation +which Luther hatched." Oh, you never read his Naufragium, or +"Shipwreck," did you? Of course not; for, if you had, I don't +think you would have given me credit--or discredit--for entire +originality in that speech of mine. That men are cowards in the +contemplation of futurity he illustrates by the extraordinary +antics of many on board the sinking vessel; that they are fools, by +their praying to the sea, and making promises to bits of wood from +the true cross, and all manner of similar nonsense; that they are +fools, cowards, and liars all at once, by this story: I will put +it into rough English for you.--"I couldn't help laughing to hear +one fellow bawling out, so that he might be sure to be heard, a +promise to Saint Christopher of Paris--the monstrous statue in the +great church there--that he would give him a wax taper as big as +himself. 'Mind what you promise!' said an acquaintance that stood +near him, poking him with his elbow; 'you couldn't pay for it, if +you sold all your things at auction.' 'Hold your tongue, you +donkey!' said the fellow,--but softly, so that Saint Christopher +should not hear him,--'do you think I'm in earnest? If I once get +my foot on dry ground, catch me giving him so much as a tallow +candle!'" + +Now, therefore, remembering that those who have been loudest in +their talk about the great subject of which we were speaking have +not necessarily been wise, brave, and true men, but, on the +contrary, have very often been wanting in one or two or all of the +qualities these words imply, I should expect to find a good many +doctrines current in the schools which I should be obliged to call +foolish, cowardly, and false. + +--So you would abuse other people's beliefs, Sir, and yet not tell +us your own creed!--said the divinity-student, coloring up with a +spirit for which I liked him all the better. + +--I have a creed,--I replied;--none better, and none shorter. It +is told in two words,--the two first of the Paternoster. And when +I say these words I mean them. And when I compared the human will +to a drop in a crystal, and said I meant to DEFINE moral +obligations, and not weaken them, this was what I intended to +express: that the fluent, self-determining power of human beings +is a very strictly limited agency in the universe. The chief +planes of its enclosing solid are, of course, organization, +education, condition. Organization may reduce the power of the +will to nothing, as in some idiots; and from this zero the scale +mounts upwards by slight gradations. Education is only second to +nature. Imagine all the infants born this year in Boston and +Timbuctoo to change places! Condition does less, but "Give me +neither poverty nor riches" was the prayer of Agur, and with good +reason. If there is any improvement in modern theology, it is in +getting out of the region of pure abstractions and taking these +every-day working forces into account. The great theological +question now heaving and throbbing in the minds of Christian men is +this:- + +No, I wont talk about these things now. My remarks might be +repeated, and it would give my friends pain to see with what +personal incivilities I should be visited. Besides, what business +has a mere boarder to be talking about such things at a breakfast- +table? Let him make puns. To be sure, he was brought up among the +Christian fathers, and learned his alphabet out of a quarto +"Concilium Tridentinum." He has also heard many thousand +theological lectures by men of various denominations; and it is not +at all to the credit of these teachers, if he is not fit by this +time to express an opinion on theological matters. + +I know well enough that there are some of you who had a great deal +rather see me stand on my head than use it for any purpose of +thought. Does not my friend, the Professor, receive at least two +letters a week, requesting him to. . . . ,--on the strength of some +youthful antic of his, which, no doubt, authorizes the intelligent +constituency of autograph-hunters to address him as a harlequin? + +--Well, I can't be savage with you for wanting to laugh, and I like +to make you laugh, well enough, when I can. But then observe this: +if the sense of the ridiculous is one side of an impressible +nature, it is very well; but if that is all there is in a man, he +had better have been an ape at once, and so have stood at the head +of his profession. Laughter and tears are meant to turn the wheels +of the same machinery of sensibility; one is wind-power, and the +other water-power; that is all. I have often heard the Professor +talk about hysterics as being Nature's cleverest illustration of +the reciprocal convertibility of the two states of which these acts +are the manifestations; But you may see it every day in children; +and if you want to choke with stifled tears at sight of the +transition, as it shows itself in older years, go and see Mr. Blake +play JESSE RURAL. + +It is a very dangerous thing for a literary man to indulge his love +for the ridiculous. People laugh WITH him just so long as he +amuses them; but if he attempts to be serious, they must still have +their laugh, and so they laugh AT him. There is in addition, +however, a deeper reason for this than would at first appear. Do +you know that you feel a little superior to every man who makes you +laugh, whether by making faces or verses? Are you aware that you +have a pleasant sense of patronizing him, when you condescend so +far as to let him turn somersets, literal or literary, for your +royal delight? Now if a man can only be allowed to stand on a +dais, or raised platform, and look down on his neighbor who is +exerting his talent for him, oh, it is all right!--first-rate +performance!--and all the rest of the fine phrases. But if all at +once the performer asks the gentleman to come upon the floor, and, +stepping upon the platform, begins to talk down at him,--ah, that +wasn't in the programme! + +I have never forgotten what happened when Sydney Smith--who, as +everybody knows, was an exceedingly sensible man, and a gentleman, +every inch of him--ventured to preach a sermon on the Duties of +Royalty. The "Quarterly," "so savage and tartarly," came down upon +him in the most contemptuous style, as "a joker of jokes," a +"diner-out of the first water," in one of his own phrases; sneering +at him, insulting him, as nothing but a toady of a court, sneaking +behind the anonymous, would ever have been mean enough to do to a +man of his position and genius, or to any decent person even.--If I +were giving advice to a young fellow of talent, with two or three +facets to his mind, I would tell him by all means to keep his wit +in the background until after he had made a reputation by his more +solid qualities. And so to an actor: Hamlet first, and Bob Logic +afterwards, if you like; but don't think, as they say poor Liston +used to, that people will be ready to allow that you can do +anything great with Macbeth's dagger after flourishing about with +Paul Pry's umbrella. Do you know, too, that the majority of men +look upon all who challenge their attention,--for a while, at +least,--as beggars, and nuisances? They always try to get off as +cheaply as they can; and the cheapest of all things they can give a +literary man--pardon the forlorn pleasantry!--is the FUNNY-bone. +That is all very well so far as it goes, but satisfies no man, and +makes a good many angry, as I told you on a former occasion. + +--Oh, indeed, no!--I am not ashamed to make you laugh, +occasionally. I think I could read you something I have in my desk +which would probably make you smile. Perhaps I will read it one of +these days, if you are patient with me when I am sentimental and +reflective; not just now. The ludicrous has its place in the +universe; it is not a human invention, but one of the Divine ideas, +illustrated in the practical jokes of kittens and monkeys long +before Aristophanes or Shakspeare. How curious it is that we +always consider solemnity and the absence of all gay surprises and +encounter of wits as essential to the idea of the future life of +those whom we thus deprive of half their faculties and then call +BLESSED! There are not a few who, even in this life, seem to be +preparing themselves for that smileless eternity to which they look +forward, by banishing all gayety from their hearts and all +joyousness from their countenances. I meet one such in the street +not unfrequently, a person of intelligence and education, but who +gives me (and all that he passes) such a rayless and chilling look +of recognition,--something as if he were one of Heaven's assessors, +come down to "doom" every acquaintance he met,--that I have +sometimes begun to sneeze on the spot, and gone home with a violent +cold, dating from that instant. I don't doubt he would cut his +kitten's tail off, if he caught her playing with it. Please tell +me, who taught her to play with it? + +No, no!--give me a chance to talk to you, my fellow-boarders, and +you need not be afraid that I shall have any scruples about +entertaining you, if I can do it, as well as giving you some of my +serious thoughts, and perhaps my sadder fancies. I know nothing in +English or any other literature more admirable than that sentiment +of Sir Thomas Browne "EVERY MAN TRULY LIVES, SO LONG AS HE ACTS HIS +NATURE, OR SOME WAY MAKES GOOD THE FACULTIES OF HIMSELF." + +I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, +as in what direction we are moving: To reach the port of heaven, +we must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it,--but +we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor. There is one very +sad thing in old friendships, to every mind that is really moving +onward. It is this: that one cannot help using his early friends +as the seaman uses the log, to mark his progress. Every now and +then we throw an old schoolmate over the stern with a string of +thought tied to him, and look--I am afraid with a kind of luxurious +and sanctimonious compassion--to see the rate at which the string +reels off, while he lies there bobbing up and down, poor fellow! +and we are dashing along with the white foam and bright sparkle at +our bows;--the ruffled bosom of prosperity and progress, with a +sprig of diamonds stuck in it! But this is only the sentimental +side of the matter; for grow we must, if we outgrow all that we +love. + +Don't misunderstand that metaphor of heaving the log, I beg you. +It is merely a smart way of saying that we cannot avoid measuring +our rate of movement by those with whom we have long been in the +habit of comparing ourselves; and when they once become stationary, +we can get our reckoning from them with painful accuracy. We see +just what we were when they were our peers, and can strike the +balance between that and whatever we may feel ourselves to be now. +No doubt we may sometimes be mistaken. If we change our last +simile to that very old and familiar one of a fleet leaving the +harbor and sailing in company for some distant region, we can get +what we want out of it. There is one of our companions;--her +streamers were torn into rags before she had got into the open sea, +then by and by her sails blew out of the ropes one after another, +the waves swept her deck, and as night came on we left her a +seeming wreck, as we flew under our pyramid of canvas. But lo! at +dawn she is still in sight,--it may be in advance of us. Some deep +ocean-current has been moving her on, strong, but silent,--yes, +stronger than these noisy winds that puff our sails until they are +swollen as the cheeks of jubilant cherubim. And when at last the +black steam-tug with the skeleton arms, which comes out of the mist +sooner or later and takes us all in tow, grapples her and goes off +panting and groaning with her, it is to that harbor where all +wrecks are refitted, and where, alas! we, towering in our pride, +may never come. + +So you will not think I mean to speak lightly of old friendships, +because we cannot help instituting comparisons between our present +and former selves by the aid of those who were what we were, but +are not what we are. Nothing strikes one more, in the race of +life, than to see how many give out in the first half of the +course. "Commencement day" always reminds me of the start for the +"Derby," when the beautiful high-bred three-year olds of the season +are brought up for trial. That day is the start, and life is the +race. Here we are at Cambridge, and a class is just "graduating." +Poor Harry! he was to have been there too, but he has paid forfeit; +step out here into the grass back of the church; ah! there it is:- + + +"HUNC LAPIDEM POSUERUNT +SOCII MOERENTES." + + +But this is the start, and here they are,--coats bright as silk, +and manes as smooth as eau lustrale can make them. Some of the +best of the colts are pranced round, a few minutes each, to show +their paces. What is that old gentleman crying about? and the old +lady by him, and the three girls, what are they all covering their +eyes for? Oh, that is THEIR colt which has just been trotted up on +the stage. Do they really think those little thin legs can do +anything in such a slashing sweepstakes as is coming off in these +next forty years? Oh, this terrible gift of second-sight that +comes to some of us when we begin to look through the silvered +rings of the arcus senilis! + +TEN YEARS GONE. First turn in the race. A few broken down; two or +three bolted. Several show in advance of the ruck. CASSOCK, a +black colt, seems to be ahead of the rest; those black colts +commonly get the start, I have noticed, of the others, in the first +quarter. METEOR has pulled up. + +TWENTY YEARS. Second corner turned. CASSOCK has dropped from the +front, and JUDEX, an iron-gray, has the lead. But look! how they +have thinned out! Down flat,--five,--six,--how many? They lie +still enough! they will not get up again in this race, be very +sure! And the rest of them, what a "tailing off"! Anybody can see +who is going to win,--perhaps. + +THIRTY YEARS. Third corner turned. DIVES, bright sorrel, ridden +by the fellow in a yellow jacket, begins to make play fast; is +getting to be the favourite with many. But who is that other one +that has been lengthening his stride from the first, and now shows +close up to the front? Don't you remember the quiet brown colt +ASTEROID, with the star in his forehead? That is he; he is one of +the sort that lasts; look out for him! The black "colt," as we +used to call him, is in the background, taking it easily in a +gentle trot. There is one they used to call THE FILLY, on account +of a certain feminine air he had; well up, you see; the Filly is +not to be despised my boy! + +FORTY YEARS. More dropping off,--but places much as before. + +FIFTY YEARS. Race over. All that are on the course are coming in +at a walk; no more running. Who is ahead? Ahead? What! and the +winning-post a slab of white or gray stone standing out from that +turf where there is no more jockeying or straining for victory! +Well, the world marks their places in its betting-book; but be sure +that these matter very little, if they have run as well as they +knew how! + +--Did I not say to you a little while ago that the universe swam in +an ocean of similitudes and analogies? I will not quote Cowley, or +Burns, or Wordsworth, just now, to show you what thoughts were +suggested to them by the simplest natural objects, such as a flower +or a leaf; but I will read you a few lines, if you do not object, +suggested by looking at a section of one of those chambered shells +to which is given the name of Pearly Nautilus. We need not trouble +ourselves about the distinction between this and the Paper +Nautilus, the Argonauta of the ancients. The name applied to both +shows that each has long been compared to a ship, as you may see +more fully in Webster's Dictionary, or the "Encyclopedia," to which +he refers. If you will look into Roget's Bridgewater Treatise, you +will find a figure of one of these shells, and a section of it. +The last will show you the series of enlarging compartments +successively dwelt in by the animal that inhabits the shell, which +is built in a widening spiral. Can you find no lesson in this? + + +THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS. + +This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, +Sails the unshadowed main,-- +The venturous bark that flings +On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings +In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, +And coral reefs lie bare, +Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair + +Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; +Wrecked is the ship of pearl! +And every clambered cell, +Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, +As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, +Before thee lies revealed,-- +Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! + +Year after year beheld the silent toil +That spread his lustrous coil; +Still, as the spiral grew, +He left the past year's dwelling for the new, +Stole with soft step its shining archway through, +Built up its idle door, +Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. + +Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, +Child of the wandering sea, +Cast from her lap forlorn! +From thy dead lips a clearer note is born +Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! +While on mine ear it rings, +Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:- + +Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, +As the swift seasons roll! +Leave thy low-vaulted past! +Let each new temple, nobler than the last, +Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, +Till thou at length art free, +Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea! + + + +CHAPTER V + + + +A lyric conception--my friend, the Poet, said--hits me like a +bullet in the forehead. I have often had the blood drop from my +cheeks when it struck, and felt that I turned as white as death. +Then comes a creeping as of centipedes running down the spine, +--then a gasp and a great jump of the heart,--then a sudden flush and +a beating in the vessels of the head,--then a long sigh,--and the +poem is written. + +It is an impromptu, I suppose, then, if you write it so suddenly, +--I replied. + +No,--said he,--far from it. I said written, but I did not say +COPIED. Every such poem has a soul and a body, and it is the body +of it, or the copy, that men read and publishers pay for. The soul +of it is born in an instant in the poet's soul. It comes to him a +thought, tangled in the meshes of a few sweet words,--words that +have loved each other from the cradle of the language, but have +never been wedded until now. Whether it will ever fully embody +itself in a bridal train of a dozen stanzas or not is uncertain; +but it exists potentially from the instant that the poet turns pale +with it. It is enough to stun and scare anybody, to have a hot +thought come crashing into his brain, and ploughing up those +parallel ruts where the wagon trains of common ideas were jogging +along in their regular sequences of association. No wonder the +ancients made the poetical impulse wholly external. [Greek text +which cannot be reproduced]. Goddess,--Muse,--divine afflatus, +--something outside always. _I_ never wrote any verses worth +reading. I can't. I am too stupid. If I ever copied any that +were worth reading, I was only a medium. + +[I was talking all this time to our boarders, you understand, +--telling them what this poet told me. The company listened rather +attentively, I thought, considering the literary character of the +remarks.] + +The old gentleman opposite all at once asked me if I ever read +anything better than Pope's "Essay on Man"? Had I ever perused +McFingal? He was fond of poetry when he was a boy,--his mother +taught him to say many little pieces,--he remembered one beautiful +hymn;--and the old gentleman began, in a clear, loud voice, for his +years,-- + + +"The spacious firmament on high, +With all the blue ethereal sky, +And spangled heavens,"-- + + +He stopped, as if startled by our silence, and a faint flush ran up +beneath the thin white hairs that fell upon his cheek. As I looked +round, I was reminded of a show I once saw at the Museum,--the +Sleeping Beauty, I think they called it. The old man's sudden +breaking out in this way turned every face towards him, and each +kept his posture as if changed to stone. Our Celtic Bridget, or +Biddy, is not a foolish fat scullion to burst out crying for a +sentiment. She is of the serviceable, red-handed, broad-and-high- +shouldered type; one of those imported female servants who are +known in public by their amorphous style of person, their stoop +forwards, and a headlong and as it were precipitous walk,--the +waist plunging downwards into the rocking pelvis at every heavy +footfall. Bridget, constituted for action, not for emotion, was +about to deposit a plate heaped with something upon the table, when +I saw the coarse arm stretched by my shoulder arrested,--motionless +as the arm of a terra-cotta caryatid; she couldn't set the plate +down while the old gentleman was speaking! + +He was quite silent after this, still wearing the slight flush on +his cheek. Don't ever think the poetry is dead in an old man +because his forehead is wrinkled, or that his manhood has left him +when his hand trembles! If they ever WERE there, they ARE there +still! + +By and by we got talking again.--Does a poet love the verses +written through him, do you think, Sir?--said the divinity-student. + +So long as they are warm from his mind, carry any of his animal +heat about them, _I_ KNOW he loves them,--I answered. When they +have had time to cool, he is more indifferent. + +A good deal as it is with buckwheat cakes,--said the young fellow +whom they call John. + +The last words, only, reached the ear of the economically organized +female in black bombazine .--Buckwheat is skerce and high,--she +remarked. [Must be a poor relation sponging on our landlady,--pays +nothing,--so she must stand by the guns and be ready to repel +boarders.] + +I liked the turn the conversation had taken, for I had some things +I wanted to say, and so, after waiting a minute, I began again.--I +don't think the poems I read you sometimes can be fairly +appreciated, given to you as they are in the green state. + +--You don't know what I mean by the GREEN STATE? Well, then, I +will tell you. Certain things are good for nothing until they have +been kept a long while; and some are good for nothing until they +have been long kept and USED. Of the first, wine is the +illustrious and immortal example. Of those which must be kept and +used I will name three,--meerschaum pipes, violins, and poems. The +meerschaum is but a poor affair until it has burned a thousand +offerings to the cloud-compelling deities. It comes to us without +complexion or flavor,--born of the sea-foam, like Aphrodite, but +colorless as pallida Mors herself. The fire is lighted in its +central shrine, and gradually the juices which the broad leaves of +the Great Vegetable had sucked up from an acre and curdled into a +drachm are diffused through its thirsting pores. First a +discoloration, then a stain, and at last a rich, glowing, umber +tint spreading over the whole surface. Nature true to her old +brown autumnal hue, you see,--as true in the fire of the meerschaum +as in the sunshine of October! And then the cumulative wealth of +its fragrant reminiscences! he who inhales its vapors takes a +thousand whiffs in a single breath; and one cannot touch it without +awakening the old joys that hang around it as the smell of flowers +clings to the dresses of the daughters of the house of Farina! + +[Don't think I use a meerschaum myself, for _I_ DO NOT, though I +have owned a calumet since my childhood, which from a naked Pict +(of the Mohawk species) my grandsire won, together with a tomahawk +and beaded knife-sheath; paying for the lot with a bullet-mark on +his right check. On the maternal side I inherit the loveliest +silver-mounted tobacco-stopper you ever saw. It is a little +box-wood Triton, carved with charming liveliness and truth; I have +often compared it to a figure in Raphael's "Triumph of Galatea." +It came to me in an ancient shagreen case,--how old it is I do not +know,--but it must have been made since Sir Walter Raleigh's time. +If you are curious, you shall see it any day. Neither will I +pretend that I am so unused to the more perishable smoking +contrivance that a few whiffs would make me feel as if I lay in a +ground-swell on the Bay of Biscay. I am not unacquainted with that +fusiform, spiral-wound bundle of chopped stems and miscellaneous +incombustibles, the CIGAR, so called, of the shops,--which to +"draw" asks the suction-power of a nursling infant Hercules, and to +relish, the leathery palate of an old Silenus. I do not advise +you, young man, even if my illustration strike your fancy, to +consecrate the flower of your life to painting the bowl of a pipe, +for, let me assure you, the stain of a reverie-breeding narcotic +may strike deeper than you think for. I have seen the green leaf +of early promise grow brown before its time under such Nicotian +regimen, and thought the umbered meerschaum was dearly bought at +the cost of a brain enfeebled and a will enslaved.] + +Violins, too,--the sweet old Amati!--the divine Stradivarius! +Played on by ancient maestros until the bow-hand lost its power and +the flying fingers stiffened. Bequeathed to the passionate, young +enthusiast, who made it whisper his hidden love, and cry his +inarticulate longings, and scream his untold agonies, and wail his +monotonous despair. Passed from his dying hand to the cold +virtuoso, who let it slumber in its case for a generation, till, +when his hoard was broken up, it came forth once more and rode the +stormy symphonies of royal orchestras, beneath the rushing bow of +their lord and leader. Into lonely prisons with improvident +artists; into convents from which arose, day and night, the holy +hymns with which its tones were blended; and back again to orgies +in which it learned to howl and laugh as if a legion of devils were +shut up in it; then again to the gentle dilettante who calmed it +down with easy melodies until it answered him softly as in the days +of the old maestros. And so given into our hands, its pores all +full of music; stained, like the meerschaum, through and through, +with the concentrated hue and sweetness of all the harmonies which +have kindled and faded on its strings. + +Now I tell you a poem must be kept AND USED, like a meerschaum, or +a violin. A poem is just as porous as the meerschaum;--the more +porous it is, the better. I mean to say that a genuine poem is +capable of absorbing an indefinite amount of the essence of our own +humanity,--its tenderness, its heroism, its regrets, its +aspirations, so as to be gradually stained through with a divine +secondary color derived from ourselves. So you see it must take +time to bring the sentiment of a poem into harmony with our nature, +by staining ourselves through every thought and image our being can +penetrate. + +Then again as to the mere music of a new poem; why, who can expect +anything more from that than from the music of a violin fresh from +the maker's hands? Now you know very well that there are no less +than fifty-eight different pieces in a violin. These pieces are +strangers to each other, and it takes a century, more or less, to +make them thoroughly acquainted. At last they learn to vibrate in +harmony, and the instrument becomes an organic whole, as if it were +a great seed-capsule which had grown from a garden-bed in Cremona, +or elsewhere. Besides, the wood is juicy and full of sap for fifty +years or so, but at the end of fifty or a hundred more gets +tolerably dry and comparatively resonant. + +Don't you see that all this is just as true of a poem? Counting +each word as a piece, there are more pieces in an average copy of +verses than in a violin. The poet has forced all these words +together, and fastened them, and they don't understand it at first. +But let the poem be repeated aloud and murmured over in the mind's +muffled whisper often enough, and at length the parts become knit +together in such absolute solidarity that you could not change a +syllable without the whole world's crying out against you for +meddling with the harmonious fabric. Observe, too, how the drying +process takes place in the stuff of a poem just as in that of a +violin. Here is a Tyrolese fiddle that is just coming to its +hundredth birthday,--(Pedro Klauss, Tyroli, fecit, 1760,)--the sap +is pretty well out of it. And here is the song of an old poet whom +Neaera cheated.-- + + +"Nox erat, et coelo fulgebat Luna sereno +Inter minora sidera, +Cum tu magnorum numen laesura deorum +In verba jurabas mea." + + +Don't you perceive the sonorousness of these old dead Latin +phrases? Now I tell you that, every word fresh from the dictionary +brings with it a certain succulence; and though I cannot expect the +sheets of the "Pactolian," in which, as I told you, I sometimes +print my verses, to get so dry as the crisp papyrus that held those +words of Horatius Flaccus, yet you may be sure, that, while the +sheets are damp, and while the lines hold their sap, you can't +fairly judge of my performances, and that, if made of the true +stuff, they will ring better after a while. + +[There was silence for a brief space, after my somewhat elaborate +exposition of these self-evident analogies. Presently A PERSON +turned towards me--I do not choose to designate the individual--and +said that he rather expected my pieces had given pretty good +"sahtisfahction."--I had, up to this moment, considered this +complimentary phrase as sacred to the use of secretaries of +lyceums, and, as it has been usually accompanied by a small +pecuniary testimonial, have acquired a certain relish for this +moderately tepid and unstimulating expression of enthusiasm. But +as a reward for gratuitous services, I confess I thought it a +little below that blood-heat standard which a man's breath ought to +have, whether silent, or vocal and articulate. I waited for a +favorable opportunity, however, before making the remarks which +follow.] + +--There are single expressions, as I have told you already, that +fix a man's position for you before you have done shaking hands +with him. Allow me to expand a little. There are several things, +very slight in themselves, yet implying other things not so +unimportant. Thus, your French servant has devalise your premises +and got caught. Excusez, says the sergent-de-ville, as he politely +relieves him of his upper garments and displays his bust in the +full daylight. Good shoulders enough,--a little marked,--traces of +smallpox, perhaps,--but white. . . . . Crac! from the sergent-de- +ville's broad palm on the white shoulder! Now look! Vogue la +galere! Out comes the big red V--mark of the hot iron;--he had +blistered it out pretty nearly,--hadn't he?--the old rascal VOLEUR, +branded in the galleys at Marseilles! [Don't! What if he has got +something like this?--nobody supposes I INVENTED such a story.] + +My man John, who used to drive two of those six equine females +which I told you I had owned,--for, look you, my friends, simple +though I stand here, I am one that has been driven in his +"kerridge,"--not using that term, as liberal shepherds do, for any +battered old shabby-genteel go-cart which has more than one wheel, +but meaning thereby a four-wheeled vehicle WITH A POLE,--my man +John, I say, was a retired soldier. He retired unostentatiously, +as many of Her Majesty's modest servants have done before and +since. John told me, that when an officer thinks he recognizes one +of these retiring heroes, and would know if he has really been in +the service, that he may restore him, if possible, to a grateful +country, he comes suddenly upon him, and says, sharply, "Strap!" +If he has ever worn the shoulder-strap, he has learned the +reprimand for its ill adjustment. The old word of command flashes +through his muscles, and his hand goes up in an instant to the +place where the strap used to be. + +[I was all the time preparing for my grand coup, you understand; +but I saw they were not quite ready for it, and so continued, +--always in illustration of the general principle I had laid down.] + +Yes, odd things come out in ways that nobody thinks of. There was +a legend, that, when the Danish pirates made descents upon the +English coast, they caught a few Tartars occasionally, in the shape +of Saxons, who would not let them go,--on the contrary, insisted on +their staying, and, to make sure of it, treated them as Apollo +treated Marsyas, or an Bartholinus has treated a fellow-creature in +his title-page, and, having divested them of the one essential and +perfectly fitting garment, indispensable in the mildest climates, +nailed the same on the church-door as we do the banns of marriage, +in terrorem. + +[There was a laugh at this among some of the young folks; but as I +looked at our landlady, I saw that "the water stood in her eyes," +as it did in Christiana's when the interpreter asked her about the +spider, and I fancied, but wasn't quite sure that the +schoolmistress blushed, as Mercy did in the same conversation, as +you remember.] + +That sounds like a cock-and-bull-story,--said the young fellow whom +they call John. I abstained from making Hamlet's remark to +Horatio, and continued. + +Not long since, the church-wardens were repairing and beautifying +an old Saxon church in a certain English village, and among other +things thought the doors should be attended to. One of them +particularly, the front-door, looked very badly, crusted, as it +were, and as if it would be all the better for scraping. There +happened to be a microscopist in the village who had heard the old +pirate story, and he took it into his head to examine the crust on +this door. There was no mistake about it; it was a genuine +historical document, of the Ziska drum-head pattern,--a real cutis +humana, stripped from some old Scandinavian filibuster, and the +legend was true. + +My friend, the Professor, settled an important historical and +financial question once by the aid of an exceedingly minute +fragment of a similar document. Behind the pane of plate-glass +which bore his name and title burned a modest lamp, signifying to +the passers-by that at all hours of the night the slightest favors +(or fevers) were welcome. A youth who had freely partaken of the +cup which cheers and likewise inebriates, following a moth-like +impulse very natural under the circumstances, dashed his fist at +the light and quenched the meek luminary,--breaking through the +plate-glass, of course, to reach it. Now I don't want to go into +minutiae at table, you know, but a naked hand can no more go +through a pane of thick glass without leaving some of its cuticle, +to say the least, behind it, than a butterfly can go through a +sausage-machine without looking the worse for it. The Professor +gathered up the fragments of glass, and with them certain very +minute but entirely satisfactory documents which would have +identified and hanged any rogue in Christendom who had parted with +them.--The historical question, WHO DID IT? and the financial +question, WHO PAID FOR IT? were both settled before the new lamp +was lighted the next evening. + +You see, my friends, what immense conclusions, touching our lives, +our fortunes, and our sacred honor, may be reached by means of very +insignificant premises. This is eminently true of manners and +forms of speech; a movement or a phrase often tells you all you +want to know about a person. Thus, "How's your health?" (commonly +pronounced haalth)--instead of, How do you do? or, How are you? +Or calling your little dark entry a "hall," and your old rickety +one-horse wagon a "kerridge." Or telling a person who has been trying +to please you that he has given you pretty good "sahtisfahction." +Or saying that you "remember of" such a thing, or that you have +been "stoppin"' at Deacon Somebody's,--and other such expressions. +One of my friends had a little marble statuette of Cupid in the +parlor of his country-house,--bow, arrows, wings, and all complete. +A visitor, indigenous to the region, looking pensively at the +figure, asked the lady of the house "if that was a statoo of her +deceased infant?" What a delicious, though somewhat voluminous +biography, social, educational, and aesthetic in that brief +question! + +[Please observe with what Machiavellian astuteness I smuggled in +the particular offence which it was my object to hold up to my +fellow-boarders, without too personal an attack on the individual +at whose door it lay.] + +That was an exceedingly dull person who made the remark, Ex pede +Herculem. He might as well have said, "From a peck of apples you +may judge of the barrel." Ex PEDE, to be sure! Read, instead, Ex +ungue minimi digiti pedis, Herculem, ejusque patrem, matrem, avos +et proavos, filios, nepotes et pronepotes! Talk to me about your +[Greek text which cannot be reproduced]! Tell me about Cuvier's +getting up a megatherium from a tooth, or Agassiz's drawing a +portrait of an undiscovered fish from a single scale! As the "O" +revealed Giotto,--as the one word "moi" betrayed the Stratford +atte-Bowe-taught Anglais,--so all a man's antecedents and +possibilities are summed up in a single utterance which gives at +once the gauge of his education and his mental organization. + +Possibilities, Sir?--said the divinity-student; can't a man who +says Haow? arrive at distinction? + +Sir,--I replied,--in a republic all things are possible. But the +man WITH A FUTURE has almost of necessity sense enough to see that +any odious trick of speech or manners must be got rid of. Doesn't +Sydney Smith say that a public man in England never gets over a +false quantity uttered in early life? OUR public men are in little +danger of this fatal misstep, as few of them are in the habit of +introducing Latin into their speeches,--for good and sufficient +reasons. But they are bound to speak decent English,--unless, +indeed, they are rough old campaigners, like General Jackson or +General Taylor; in which case, a few scars on Priscian's head are +pardoned to old fellows who have quite as many on their own, and a +constituency of thirty empires is not at all particular, provided +they do not swear in their Presidential Messages. + +However, it is not for me to talk. I have made mistakes enough in +conversation and print. I never find them out until they are +stereotyped, and then I think they rarely escape me. I have no +doubt I shall make half a dozen slips before this breakfast is +over, and remember them all before another. How one does tremble +with rage at his own intense momentary stupidity about things he +knows perfectly well, and to think how he lays himself open to the +impertinences of the captatores verborum, those useful but humble +scavengers of the language, whose business it is to pick up what +might offend or injure, and remove it, hugging and feeding on it as +they go! I don't want to speak too slightingly of these verbal +critics;--how can I, who am so fond of talking about errors and +vulgarisms of speech? Only there is a difference between those +clerical blunders which almost every man commits, knowing better, +and that habitual grossness or meanness of speech which is +unendurable to educated persons, from anybody that wears silk or +broadcloth. + +[I write down the above remarks this morning, January 26th, making +this record of the date that nobody may think it was written in +wrath, on account of any particular grievance suffered from the +invasion of any individual scarabaeus grammaticus.] + +--I wonder if anybody ever finds fault with anything I say at this +table when it is repeated? I hope they do, I am sure. I should be +very certain that I had said nothing of much significance, if they +did not. + +Did you never, in walking in the fields, come across a large flat +stone, which had lain, nobody knows how long, just where you found +it, with the grass forming a little hedge, as it were, all round +it, close to its edges,--and have you not, in obedience to a kind +of feeling that told you it had been lying there long enough, +insinuated your stick or your foot or your fingers under its edge +and turned it over as a housewife turns a cake, when she says to +herself, "It's done brown enough by this time"? What an odd +revelation, and what an unforeseen and unpleasant surprise to a +small community, the very existence of which you had not suspected, +until the sudden dismay and scattering among its members produced +by your turning the old stone over! Blades of grass flattened +down, colorless, matted together, as if they had been bleached and +ironed; hideous crawling creatures, some of them coleopterous or +horny-shelled,--turtle-bugs one wants to call them; some of them +softer, but cunningly spread out and compressed like Lepine +watches; (Nature never loses a crack or a crevice, mind you, or a +joint in a tavern bedstead, but she always has one of her +flat-pattern five timekeepers to slide into it;) black, glossy +crickets, with their long filaments sticking out like the whips of +four-horse stage-coaches; motionless, slug-like creatures, young +larvae, perhaps more horrible in their pulpy stillness than even in +the infernal wriggle of maturity! But no sooner is the stone turned +and the wholesome light of day let upon this compressed and blinded +community of creeping things, than all of them which enjoy the luxury +of legs--and some of them have a good many--rush round wildly, +butting each other and everything in their way, and end in a general +stampede for underground retreats from the region poisoned by +sunshine. NEXT YEAR you will find the grass growing tall and green +where the stone lay; the ground-bird builds her nest where the beetle +had his hole; the dandelion and the buttercup are growing there, and +the broad fans of insect-angels open and shut over their golden +disks, as the rhythmic waves of blissful consciousness pulsate +through their glorified being. + +--The young fellow whom they call John saw fit to say, in his very +familiar way,--at which I do not choose to take offence, but which +I sometimes think it necessary to repress,--that I was coming it +rather strong on the butterflies. + +No, I replied; there is meaning in each of those images,--the +butterfly as well as the others. The stone is ancient error. The +grass is human nature borne down and bleached of all its colour by +it. The shapes which are found beneath are the crafty beings that +thrive in darkness, and the weaker organisms kept helpless by it. +He who turns the stone over is whosoever puts the staff of truth to +the old lying incubus, no matter whether he do it with a serious +face or a laughing one. The next year stands for the coming time. +Then shall the nature which had lain blanched and broken rise in +its full stature and native hues in the sunshine. Then shall God's +minstrels build their nests in the hearts of a new-born humanity. +Then shall beauty--Divinity taking outlines and color--light upon +the souls of men as the butterfly, image of the beatified spirit +rising from the dust, soars from the shell that held a poor grub, +which would never have found wings, had not the stone been lifted. + +You never need think you can turn over any old falsehood without a +terrible squirming and scattering of the horrid little population +that dwells under it. + +--Every real thought on every real subject knocks the wind out of +somebody or other. As soon as his breath comes back, he very +probably begins to expend it in hard words. These are the best +evidence a man can have that he has said something it was time to +say. Dr. Johnson was disappointed in the effect of one of his +pamphlets. "I think I have not been attacked enough for it," he +said;--"attack is the reaction; I never think I have hit hard +unless it rebounds." + +--If a fellow attacked my opinions in print would I reply? Not I. +Do you think I don't understand what my friend, the Professor, long +ago called THE HYDROSTATIC PARADOX OF CONTROVERSY? + +Don't know what that means?--Well, I will tell you. You know, +that, if you had a bent tube, one arm of which was of the size of a +pipe-stem, and the other big enough to hold the ocean, water would +stand at the same height in one as in the other. Controversy +equalizes fools and wise men in the same way,--AND THE FOOLS KNOW +IT. + +--No, but I often read what they say about other people. There are +about a dozen phrases which all come tumbling along together, like +the tongs, and the shovel, and the poker, and the brush, and the +bellows, in one of those domestic avalanches that everybody knows. +If you get one, you get the whole lot. + +What are they?--Oh, that depends a good deal on latitude and +longitude. Epithets follow the isothermal lines pretty accurately. +Grouping them in two families, one finds himself a clever, genial, +witty, wise, brilliant, sparkling, thoughtful, distinguished, +celebrated, illustrious scholar and perfect gentleman, and first +writer of the age; or a dull, foolish, wicked, pert, shallow, +ignorant, insolent, traitorous, black-hearted outcast, and disgrace +to civilization. + +What do I think determines the set of phrases a man gets?--Well, I +should say a set of influences something like these:---1st. +Relationships, political, religious, social, domestic. 2d. +Oyster, in the form of suppers given to gentlemen connected with +criticism. I believe in the school, the college, and the clergy; +but my sovereign logic, for regulating public opinion--which means +commonly the opinion of half a dozen of the critical gentry--is the +following MAJOR PROPOSITION. Oysters au naturel. Minor +proposition. The same "scalloped." Conclusion. That--(here +insert entertainer's name) is clever, witty, wise, brilliant,--and +the rest. + +--No, it isn't exactly bribery. One man has oysters, and another +epithets. It is an exchange of hospitalities; one gives a "spread" +on linen, and the other on paper,--that is all. Don't you think +you and I should be apt to do just so, if we were in the critical +line? I am sure I couldn't resist the softening influences of +hospitality. I don't like to dine out, you know,--I dine so well +at our own table, [our landlady looked radiant,] and the company is +so pleasant [a rustling movement of satisfaction among the +boarders]; but if I did partake of a man's salt, with such +additions as that article of food requires to make it palatable, I +could never abuse him, and if I had to speak of him, I suppose I +should hang my set of jingling epithets round him like a string of +sleigh-bells. Good feeling helps society to make liars of most of +us,--not absolute liars, but such careless handlers of truth that +its sharp corners get terribly rounded. I love truth as chiefest +among the virtues; I trust it runs in my blood; but I would never +be a critic, because I know I could not always tell it. I might +write a criticism of a book that happened to please me; that is +another matter. + +--Listen, Benjamin Franklin! This is for you, and such others of +tender age as you may tell it to. + +When we are as yet small children, long before the time when those +two grown ladies offer us the choice of Hercules, there comes up to +us a youthful angel, holding in his right hand cubes like dice, and +in his left spheres like marbles. The cubes are of stainless +ivory, and on each is written in letters of gold--TRUTH. The +spheres are veined and streaked and spotted beneath, with a dark +crimson flush above, where the light falls on them, and in a +certain aspect you can make out upon every one of them the three +letters L, I, E. The child to whom they are offered very probably +clutches at both. The spheres are the most convenient things in +the world; they roll with the least possible impulse just where the +child would have them. The cubes will not roll at all; they have a +great talent for standing still, and always keep right side up. +But very soon the young philosopher finds that things which roll so +easily are very apt to roll into the wrong corner, and to get out +of his way when he most wants them, while he always knows where to +find the others, which stay where they are left. Thus he learns +--thus we learn--to drop the streaked and speckled globes of +falsehood and to hold fast the white angular blocks of truth. But +then comes Timidity, and after her Good-nature, and last of all +Polite-behavior, all insisting that truth must ROLL, or nobody can +do anything with it; and so the first with her coarse rasp, and the +second with her broad file, and the third with her silken sleeve, +do so round off and smooth and polish the snow-white cubes of +truth, that, when they have got a little dingy by use, it becomes +hard to tell them from the rolling spheres of falsehood. + +The schoolmistress was polite enough to say that she was pleased +with this, and that she would read it to her little flock the next +day. But she should tell the children, she said, that there were +better reasons for truth than could be found in mere experience of +its convenience and the inconvenience of lying. + +Yes,--I said,--but education always begins through the senses, and +works up to the idea of absolute right and wrong. The first thing +the child has to learn about this matter is, that lying is +unprofitable,--afterwards, that it is against the peace and dignity +of the universe. + +--Do I think that the particular form of lying often seen in +newspapers, under the title, "From our Foreign Correspondent," does +any harm?--Why, no,--I don't know that it does. I suppose it +doesn't really deceive people any more than the "Arabian Nights" or +"Gulliver's Travels" do. Sometimes the writers compile TOO +carelessly, though, and mix up facts out of geographies, and +stories out of the penny papers, so as to mislead those who are +desirous of information. I cut a piece out of one of the papers, +the other day, which contains a number of improbabilities, and, I +suspect, misstatements. I will send up and get it for you, if you +would like to hear it.--Ah, this is it; it is headed + + +"OUR SUMATRA CORRESPONDENCE. + +"This island is now the property of the Stamford family,--having +been won, it is said, in a raffle, by Sir--Stamford, during the +stock-gambling mania of the South-Sea Scheme. The history of this +gentleman may be found in an interesting series of questions +(unfortunately not yet answered) contained in the 'Notes and +Queries.' This island is entirely surrounded by the ocean, which +here contains a large amount of saline substance, crystallizing in +cubes remarkable for their symmetry, and frequently displays on its +surface, during calm weather, the rainbow tints of the celebrated +South-Sea bubbles. The summers are oppressively hot, and the +winters very probably cold; but this fact cannot be ascertained +precisely, as, for some peculiar reason, the mercury in these +latitudes never shrinks, as in more northern regions, and thus the +thermometer is rendered useless in winter. + +"The principal vegetable productions of the island are the pepper +tree and the bread-fruit tree. Pepper being very abundantly +produced, a benevolent society was organized in London during the +last century for supplying the natives with vinegar and oysters, as +an addition to that delightful condiment. [Note received from Dr. +D. P.] It is said, however, that, as the oysters were of the kind +called NATIVES in England, the natives of Sumatra, in obedience to +a natural instinct, refused to touch them, and confined themselves +entirely to the crew of the vessel in which they were brought over. +This information was received from one of the oldest inhabitants, a +native himself, and exceedingly fond of missionaries. He is said +also to be very skilful in the CUISINE peculiar to the island. + +"During the season of gathering the pepper, the persons employed +are subject to various incommodities, the chief of which is violent +and long-continued sternutation, or sneezing. Such is the +vehemence of these attacks, that the unfortunate subjects of them +are often driven backwards for great distances at immense speed, on +the well-known principle of the aeolipile. Not being able to see +where they are going, these poor creatures dash themselves to +pieces against the rocks or are precipitated over the cliffs and +thus many valuable lives are lost annually. As, during the whole +pepper-harvest, they feed exclusively on this stimulant, they +become exceedingly irritable. The smallest injury is resented with +ungovernable rage. A young man suffering from the PEPPER-FEVER as +it is called, cudgelled another most severely for appropriating a +superannuated relative of trifling value, and was only pacified by +having a present made him of a pig of that peculiar species of +swine called the Peccavi by the Catholic Jews, who, it is well +known, abstain from swine's flesh in imitation of the Mahometan +Buddhists. + +"The bread-tree grows abundantly. Its branches are well known to +Europe and America under the familiar name of maccaroni. The +smaller twigs are called vermicelli. They have a decided animal +flavor, as may be observed in the soups containing them. +Maccaroni, being tubular, is the favorite habitat of a very +dangerous insect, which is rendered peculiarly ferocious by being +boiled. The government of the island, therefore, never allows a +stick of it to be exported without being accompanied by a piston +with which its cavity may at any time be thoroughly swept out. +These are commonly lost or stolen before the maccaroni arrives +among us. It therefore always contains many of these insects, +which, however, generally die of old age in the shops, so that +accidents from this source are comparatively rare. + +"The fruit of the bread-tree consists principally of hot rolls. +The buttered-muffin variety is supposed to be a hybrid with the +cocoa-nut palm, the cream found on the milk of the cocoa-nut +exuding from the hybrid in the shape of butter, just as the ripe +fruit is splitting, so as to fit it for the tea-table, where it is +commonly served up with cold"-- + +--There,--I don't want to read any more of it. You see that many +of these statements are highly improbable.--No, I shall not mention +the paper.--No, neither of them wrote it, though it reminds me of +the style of these popular writers. I think the fellow who wrote +it must have been reading some of their stories, and got them mixed +up with his history and geography. I don't suppose HE lies;--he +sells it to the editor, who knows how many squares off "Sumatra" +is. The editor, who sells it to the public--By the way, the papers +have been very civil haven't they?--to the--the what d'ye call it? +--"Northern Magazine,"--isn't it?--got up by some of those +Come-outers, down East, as an organ for their local peculiarities. + +--The Professor has been to see me. Came in, glorious, at about +twelve o'clock, last night. Said he had been with "the boys." On +inquiry, found that "the boys," were certain baldish and grayish +old gentlemen that one sees or hears of in various important +stations of society. The Professor is one of the same set, but he +always talks as if he had been out of college about ten years, +whereas. . . [Each of these dots was a little nod, which the +company understood, as the reader will, no doubt.] He calls them +sometimes "the boys," and sometimes "the old fellows." Call him by +the latter title, and see how he likes it.--Well, he came in last +night glorious, as I was saying. Of course I don't mean vinously +exalted; he drinks little wine on such occasions, and is well known +to all the Peters and Patricks as the gentleman who always has +indefinite quantities of black tea to kill any extra glass of red +claret he may have swallowed. But the Professor says he always +gets tipsy on old memories at these gatherings. He was, I forget +how many years old when he went to the meeting; just turned of +twenty now,--he said. He made various youthful proposals to me, +including a duet under the landlady's daughter's window. He had +just learned a trick, he said, of one of "the boys," of getting a +splendid bass out of a door-panel by rubbing it with the palm of +his hand. Offered to sing "The sky is bright," accompanying +himself on the front-door, if I would go down and help in the +chorus. Said there never was such a set of fellows as the old boys +of the set he has been with. Judges, mayors, Congress-men, Mr. +Speakers, leaders in science, clergymen better than famous, and +famous too, poets by the half-dozen, singers with voices like +angels, financiers, wits, three of the best laughers in the +Commonwealth, engineers, agriculturists,--all forms of talent and +knowledge he pretended were represented in that meeting. Then he +began to quote Byron about Santa Croce, and maintained that he +could "furnish out creation" in all its details from that set of +his. He would like to have the whole boodle of them, (I +remonstrated against this word, but the Professor said it was a +diabolish good word, and he would have no other,) with their wives +and children, shipwrecked on a remote island, just to see how +splendidly they would reorganize society. They could build a +city,--they have done it; make constitutions and laws; establish +churches and lyceums; teach and practise the healing art; instruct +in every department; found observatories; create commerce and +manufactures; write songs and hymns, and sing 'em, and make +instruments to accompany the songs with; lastly, publish a +journal almost as good as the "Northern Magazine," edited by the +Come-outers. There was nothing they were not up to, from a +christening to a hanging; the last, to be sure, could never be called +for, unless some stranger got in among them. + +--I let the Professor talk as long as he liked; it didn't make much +difference to me whether it was all truth, or partly made up of +pale Sherry and similar elements. All at once he jumped up and +said,-- + +Don't you want to hear what I just read to the boys? + +I have had questions of a similar character asked me before, +occasionally. A man of iron mould might perhaps say, No! I am not +a man of iron mould, and said that I should be delighted. + +The Professor then read--with that slightly sing-song cadence which +is observed to be common in poets reading their own verses--the +following stanzas; holding them at a focal distance of about two +feet and a half, with an occasional movement back or forward for +better adjustment, the appearance of which has been likened by some +impertinent young folks to that of the act of playing on the +trombone. His eyesight was never better; I have his word for it. + + +MARE RUBRUM. + + +Flash out a stream of blood-red wine!-- +For I would drink to other days; +And brighter shall their memory shine, +Seen flaming through its crimson blaze. +The roses die, the summers fade; +But every ghost of boyhood's dream +By Nature's magic power is laid +To sleep beneath this blood-red stream. + +It filled the purple grapes that lay +And drank the splendors of the sun +Where the long summer's cloudless day +Is mirrored in the broad Garonne; +It pictures still the bacchant shapes +That saw their hoarded sunlight shed,-- +The maidens dancing on the grapes,-- +Their milk-white ankles splashed with red. + +Beneath these waves of crimson lie, +In rosy fetters prisoned fast, +Those flitting shapes that never die, +The swift-winged visions of the past. +Kiss but the crystal's mystic rim, +Each shadow rends its flowery chain, +Springs in a bubble from its brim +And walks the chambers of the brain. + +Poor Beauty! time and fortune's wrong +No form nor feature may withstand,-- +Thy wrecks are scattered all along, +Like emptied sea-shells on the sand;-- +Yet, sprinkled with this blushing rain, +The dust restores each blooming girl, +As if the sea-shells moved again +Their glistening lips of pink and pearl. + +Here lies the home of school-boy life, +With creaking stair and wind-swept hall, +And, scarred by many a truant knife, +Our old initials on the wall; +Here rest--their keen vibrations mute-- +The shout of voices known so well, +The ringing laugh, the wailing flute, +The chiding of the sharp-tongued bell. + +Here, clad in burning robes, are laid +Life's blossomed joys, untimely shed; +And here those cherished forms have strayed +We miss awhile, and call them dead. +What wizard fills the maddening glass +What soil the enchanted clusters grew? +That buried passions wake and pass +In beaded drops of fiery dew? + +Nay, take the cup of blood-red wine,-- +Our hearts can boast a warmer grow, +Filled from a vantage more divine,-- +Calmed, but not chilled by winter's snow! +To-night the palest wave we sip +Rich as the priceless draught shall be +That wet the bride of Cana's lip,-- +The wedding wine of Galilee! + + + +CHAPTER VI + + + +Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all. + +--I think, Sir,--said the divinity-student,--you must intend that +for one of the sayings of the Seven Wise Men of Boston you were +speaking of the other day. + +I thank you, my young friend,--was my reply,--but I must say +something better than that, before I could pretend to fill out the +number. + +--The schoolmistress wanted to know how many of these sayings there +were on record, and what, and by whom said. + +--Why, let us see,--there is that one of Benjamin Franklin, "the +great Bostonian," after whom this lad was named. To be sure, he +said a great many wise things,--and I don't feel sure he didn't +borrow this,--he speaks as if it were old. But then he applied it +so neatly!-- + +"He that has once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you +another than he whom you yourself have obliged." + +Then there is that glorious Epicurean paradox, uttered by my +friend, the Historian, in one of his flashing moments:- + +"Give us the luxuries of life, and we will dispense with its +necessaries." + +To these must certainly be added that other saying of one of the +wittiest of men:- + +"Good Americans, when they die, go to Paris."-- + +The divinity-student looked grave at this, but said nothing. + +The schoolmistress spoke out, and said she didn't think the wit +meant any irreverence. It was only another way of saying, Paris is +a heavenly place after New York or Boston. + +A jaunty-looking person, who had come in with the young fellow they +call John,--evidently a stranger,--said there was one more wise +man's saying that he had heard; it was about our place, but he +didn't know who said it.--A civil curiosity was manifested by the +company to hear the fourth wise saying. I heard him distinctly +whispering to the young fellow who brought him to dinner, SHALL I +TELL IT? To which the answer was, GO AHEAD!--Well,--he said,--this +was what I heard:- + +"Boston State-House is the hub of the solar system. You couldn't +pry that out of a Boston man if you had the tire of all creation +straightened out for a crowbar." + +Sir,--said I,--I am gratified with your remark. It expresses with +pleasing vivacity that which I have sometimes heard uttered with +malignant dulness. The satire of the remark is essentially true of +Boston,--and of all other considerable--and inconsiderable--places +with which I have had the privilege of being acquainted. Cockneys +think London is the only place in the world. Frenchmen--you +remember the line about Paris, the Court, the World, etc.---I +recollect well, by the way, a sign in that city which ran thus: +"Hotel l'Univers et des Etats Unis"; and as Paris IS the universe +to a Frenchman, of course the United States are outside of it. +--"See Naples and then die."--It is quite as bad with smaller places. +I have been about, lecturing, you know, and have found the +following propositions to hold true of all of them. + +1. The axis of the earth sticks out visibly through the centre of +each and every town or city. + +2. If more than fifty years have passed since its foundation, it +is affectionately styled by the inhabitants the "GOOD OLD town of" +--(whatever its name may happen to be.) + +3. Every collection of its inhabitants that comes together to +listen to a stranger is invariably declared to be a "remarkably +intelligent audience." + +4. The climate of the place is particularly favorable to +longevity. + +5. It contains several persons of vast talent little known to the +world. (One or two of them, you may perhaps chance to remember, +sent short pieces to the "Pactolian" some time since, which were +"respectfully declined.") + +Boston is just like other places of its size;--only perhaps, +considering its excellent fish-market, paid fire-department, +superior monthly publications, and correct habit of spelling the +English language, it has some right to look down on the mob of +cities. I'll tell you, though, if you want to know it, what is the +real offence of Boston. It drains a large water-shed of its +intellect, and will not itself be drained. If it would only send +away its first-rate men, instead of its second-rate ones, (no +offence to the well-known exceptions, of which we are always +proud,) we should be spared such epigrammatic remarks as that which +the gentleman has quoted. There can never be a real metropolis in +this country, until the biggest centre can drain the lesser ones of +their talent and wealth.--I have observed, by the way, that the +people who really live in two great cities are by no means so +jealous of each other, as are those of smaller cities situated +within the intellectual basin, or suction-range, of one large one, +of the pretensions of any other. Don't you see why? Because their +promising young author and rising lawyer and large capitalist have +been drained off to the neighboring big city,--their prettiest girl +has been exported to the same market; all their ambition points +there, and all their thin gilding of glory comes from there. I +hate little toad-eating cities. + +--Would I be so good as to specify any particular example?--Oh,--an +example? Did you ever see a bear-trap? Never? Well, shouldn't +you like to see me put my foot into one? With sentiments of the +highest consideration I must beg leave to be excused. + +Besides, some of the smaller cities are charming. If they have an +old church or two, a few stately mansions of former grandees, here +and there an old dwelling with the second story projecting, (for +the convenience of shooting the Indians knocking at the front-door +with their tomahawks,)--if they have, scattered about, those mighty +square houses built something more than half a century ago, and +standing like architectural boulders dropped by the former diluvium +of wealth, whose refluent wave has left them as its monument,--if +they have gardens with elbowed apple-trees that push their branches +over the high board-fence and drop their fruit on the side-walk, +--if they have a little grass in the side-streets, enough to betoken +quiet without proclaiming decay,--I think I could go to pieces, +after my life's work were done, in one of those tranquil places, as +sweetly as in any cradle that an old man may be rocked to sleep in. +I visit such spots always with infinite delight. My friend, the +Poet, says, that rapidly growing towns are most unfavorable to the +imaginative and reflective faculties. Let a man live in one of +these old quiet places, he says, and the wine of his soul, which is +kept thick and turbid by the rattle of busy streets, settles, and, +as you hold it up, you may see the sun through it by day and the +stars by night. + +--Do I think that the little villages have the conceit of the great +towns?--I don't believe there is much difference. You know how +they read Pope's line in the smallest town in our State of +Massachusetts?--Well, they read it + + +"All are but parts of one stupendous HULL!" + + +--Every person's feelings have a front-door and a side-door by +which they may be entered. The front-door is on the street. Some +keep it always open; some keep it latched; some, locked; some, +bolted,--with a chain that will let you peep in, but not get in; +and some nail it up, so that nothing can pass its threshold. This +front-door leads into a passage which opens into an ante-room, and +this into the inferior apartments. The side-door opens at once +into the sacred chambers. + +There is almost always at least one key to this side-door. This is +carried for years hidden in a mother's bosom. Fathers, brothers, +sisters, and friends, often, but by no means so universally, have +duplicates of it. The wedding-ring conveys a right to one; alas, +if none is given with it! + +If nature or accident has put one of these keys into the hands of a +person who has the torturing instinct, I can only solemnly +pronounce the words that Justice utters over its doomed victim, +--THE LORD HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SOUL! You will probably go mad within +a reasonable time,--or, if you are a man, run off and die with your +head on a curb-stone, in Melbourne or San Francisco,--or, if you +are a woman, quarrel and break your heart, or turn into a pale, +jointed petrifaction that moves about as if it were alive, or play +some real life-tragedy or other. + +Be very careful to whom you trust one of these keys of the +side-door. The fact of possessing one renders those even who are +dear to you very terrible at times. You can keep the world out from +your front-door, or receive visitors only when you are ready for +them; but those of your own flesh and blood, or of certain grades of +intimacy, can come in at the side-door, if they will, at any hour and +in any mood. Some of them have a scale of your whole nervous system, +and can play all the gamut of your sensibilities in semitones, +--touching the naked nerve-pulps as a pianist strikes the keys of his +instrument. I am satisfied that there are as great masters of this +nerve-playing as Vieuxtemps or Thalberg in their lines of +performance. Married life is the school in which the most +accomplished artists in this department are found. A delicate woman +is the best instrument; she has such a magnificent compass of +sensibilities! From the deep inward moan which follows pressure on +the great nerves of right, to the sharp cry as the filaments of taste +are struck with a crashing sweep, is a range which no other +instrument possesses. A few exercises on it daily at home fit a man +wonderfully for his habitual labors, and refresh him immensely as he +returns from them. No stranger can get a great many notes of torture +out of a human soul; it takes one that knows it well,--parent, +child, brother, sister, intimate. Be very careful to whom you give a +side-door key; too many have them already. + +--You remember the old story of the tender-hearted man, who placed +a frozen viper in his bosom, and was stung by it when it became +thawed? If we take a cold-blooded creature into our bosom, better +that it should sting us and we should die than that its chill +should slowly steal into our hearts; warm it we never can! I have +seen faces of women that were fair to look upon, yet one could see +that the icicles were forming round these women's hearts. I knew +what freezing image lay on the white breasts beneath the laces! + +A very simple INTELLECTUAL mechanism answers the necessities of +friendship, and even of the most intimate relations of life. If a +watch tells us the hour and the minute, we can be content to carry +it about with us for a life-time, though it has no second-hand and +is not a repeater, nor a musical watch,--though it is not enamelled +nor jewelled,--in short, though it has little beyond the wheels +required for a trustworthy instrument, added to a good face and a +pair of useful hands. The more wheels there are in a watch or a +brain, the more trouble they are to take care of. The movements of +exaltation which belong to genius are egotistic by their very +nature. A calm, clear mind, not subject to the spasms and crises +which are so often met with in creative or intensely perceptive +natures, is the best basis for love or friendship.--Observe, I am +talking about MINDS. I won't say, the more intellect, the less +capacity for loving; for that would do wrong to the understanding +and reason;--but, on the other hand, that the brain often runs away +with the heart's best blood, which gives the world a few pages of +wisdom or sentiment or poetry, instead of making one other heart +happy, I have no question. + +If one's intimate in love or friendship cannot or does not share +all one's intellectual tastes or pursuits, that is a small matter. +Intellectual companions can be found easily in men and books. +After all, if we think of it, most of the world's loves and +friendships have been between people that could not read nor spell. + +But to radiate the heat of the affections into a clod which absorbs +all that is poured into it, but never warms beneath the sunshine of +smiles or the pressure of hand or lip,--this is the great martyrdom +of sensitive beings,--most of all in that perpetual auto da fe +where young womanhood is the sacrifice. + +--You noticed, perhaps, what I just said about the loves and +friendships of illiterate persons,--that is, of the human race, +with a few exceptions here and there. I like books,--I was born +and bred among them, and have the easy feeling, when I get into +their presence, that a stable-boy has among horses. I don't think +I undervalue them either as companions or as instructors. But I +can't help remembering that the world's great men have not commonly +been great scholars, nor its great scholars great men. The Hebrew +patriarchs had small libraries, I think, if any; yet they represent +to our imaginations a very complete idea of manhood, and, I think, +if we could ask in Abraham to dine with us men of letters next +Saturday, we should feel honored by his company. + +What I wanted to say about books is this: that there are times in +which every active mind feels itself above any and all human books. + +--I think a man must have a good opinion of himself, Sir,--said the +divinity-student,--who should feel himself above Shakspeare at any +time. + +My young friend,--I replied,--the man who is never conscious of a +state of feeling or of intellectual effort entirely beyond +expression by any form of words whatsoever is a mere creature of +language. I can hardly believe there are any such men. Why, think +for a moment of the power of music. The nerves that make us alive +to it spread out (so the Professor tells me) in the most sensitive +region of the marrow just where it is widening to run upwards into +the hemispheres. It has its seat in the region of sense rather +than of thought. Yet it produces a continuous and, as it were, +logical sequence of emotional and intellectual changes; but how +different from trains of thought proper! how entirely beyond the +reach of symbols!--Think of human passions as compared with all +phrases! Did you ever hear of a man's growing lean by the reading +of "Romeo and Juliet," or blowing his brains out because Desdemona +was maligned? There are a good many symbols, even, that are more +expressive than words. I remember a young wife who had to part +with her husband for a time. She did not write a mournful poem; +indeed, she was a silent person, and perhaps hardly said a word +about it; but she quietly turned of a deep orange color with +jaundice. A great many people in this world have but one form of +rhetoric for their profoundest experiences,--namely, to waste away +and die. When a man can READ, his paroxysm of feeling is passing. +When he can READ, his thought has slackened its hold.--You talk +about reading Shakspeare, using him as an expression for the +highest intellect, and you wonder that any common person should be +so presumptuous as to suppose his thought can rise above the text +which lies before him. But think a moment. A child's reading of +Shakspeare is one thing, and Coleridge's or Schlegel's reading of +him is another. The saturation-point of each mind differs from +that of every other. But I think it is as true for the small mind +which can only take up a little as for the great one which takes up +much, that the suggested trains of thought and feeling ought always +to rise above--not the author, but the reader's mental version of +the author, whoever he may be. + +I think most readers of Shakspeare sometimes find themselves thrown +into exalted mental conditions like those produced by music. Then +they may drop the book, to pass at once into the region of thought +without words. We may happen to be very dull folks, you and I, and +probably are, unless there is some particular reason to suppose the +contrary. But we get glimpses now and then of a sphere of +spiritual possibilities, where we, dull as we are now, may sail in +vast circles round the largest compass of earthly intelligences. + +--I confess there are times when I feel like the friend I mentioned +to you some time ago,--I hate the very sight of a book. Sometimes +it becomes almost a physical necessity to talk out what is in the +mind, before putting anything else into it. It is very bad to have +thoughts and feelings, which were meant to come out in talk, STRIKE +IN, as they say of some complaints that ought to show outwardly. + +I always believed in life rather than in books. I suppose every +day of earth, with its hundred thousand deaths and something more +of births,--with its loves and hates, its triumphs and defeats, its +pangs and blisses, has more of humanity in it than all the books +that were ever written, put together. I believe the flowers +growing at this moment send up more fragrance to heaven than was +ever exhaled from all the essences ever distilled. + +--Don't I read up various matters to talk about at this table or +elsewhere?--No, that is the last thing I would do. I will tell you +my rule. Talk about those subjects you have had long in your mind, +and listen to what others say about subjects you have studied but +recently. Knowledge and timber shouldn't be much used, till they +are seasoned. + +--Physiologists and metaphysicians have had their attention turned +a good deal of late to the automatic and involuntary actions of the +mind. Put an idea into your intelligence and leave it there an +hour, a day, a year, without ever having occasion to refer to it. +When, at last, you return to it, you do not find it as it was when +acquired. It has domiciliated itself, so to speak,--become at +home,--entered into relations with your other thoughts, and +integrated itself with the whole fabric of the mind.--Or take a +simple and familiar example; Dr. Carpenter has adduced it. You +forget a name, in conversation,--go on talking, without making any +effort to recall it,--and presently the mind evolves it by its own +involuntary and unconscious action, while you were pursuing another +train of thought, and the name rises of itself to your lips. + +There are some curious observations I should like to make about the +mental machinery, but I think we are getting rather didactic. + +--I should be gratified, if Benjamin Franklin would let me know +something of his progress in the French language. I rather liked +that exercise he read us the other day, though I must confess I +should hardly dare to translate it, for fear some people in a +remote city where I once lived might think I was drawing their +portraits. + +--Yes, Paris is a famous place for societies. I don't know whether +the piece I mentioned from the French author was intended simply as +Natural History, or whether there was not a little malice in his +description. At any rate, when I gave my translation to B. F. to +turn back again into French, one reason was that I thought it would +sound a little bald in English, and some people might think it was +meant to have some local bearing or other,--which the author, of +course, didn't mean, inasmuch as he could not be acquainted with +anything on this side of the water. + + [The above remarks were addressed to the school-mistress, to whom +I handed the paper after looking it over. The divinity-student +came and read over her shoulder,--very curious, apparently, but his +eyes wandered, I thought. Fancying that her breathing was somewhat +hurried and high, or thoracic, as my friend, the Professor, calls +it, I watched her a little more closely.--It is none of my +business.--After all, it is the imponderables that move the world, +--heat, electricity, love. Habet?] + +This is the piece that Benjamin Franklin made into boarding-school +French, such as you see here; don't expect too much;--the mistakes +give a relish to it, I think. + + +LES SOCIETES POLYPHYSIOPHILOSOPHIQUES. + +Ces Societes la sont une Institution pour suppleer aux besoins +d'esprit et de coeur de ces individus qui ont survecu a leurs +emotions a l'egard du beau sexe, et qui n'ont pas la distraction de +l'habitude de boire. + +Pour devenir membre d'une de ces Societes, on doit avoir le moins +de cheveux possible. S'il y en reste plusieurs qui resistent aux +depilatoires naturelles et autres, on doit avoir quelques +connaissances, n'importe dans quel genre. Des le moment qu'on +ouvre la porte de la Societe, on a un grand interet dans toutes les +choses dont on ne sait rien. Ainsi, un microscopiste demontre un +nouveau FLEXOR du TARSE d'un MELOLONTHA VULGARIS. Douze savans +improvises, portans des besicles, et qui ne connaissent rien des +insectes, si ce n'est les morsures du CULEX, se precipitent sur +l'instrument, et voient--une grande bulle d'air, dont ils +s'emerveillent avec effusion. Ce qui est un spectacle plein +d'instruction--pour ceux qui ne sont pas de ladite Societe. Tous +les membres regardent les chimistes en particulier avec un air +d'intelligence parfaite pendant qu'ils prouvent dans un discours +d'une demiheure que O6 N3 H5 C6 etc. font quelque chose qui n'est +bonne a rien, mais qui probablement a une odeur tres desagreable, +selon l'habitude des produits chimiques. Apres cela vient un +mathematicien qui vous bourre avec des a+b et vous rapporte enfin +un x+y, dont vous n'avex pas besoin et qui ne change nullement vos +relations avec la vie. Un naturaliste vous parle des formations +speciales des animaux excessivement inconnus, dont vous n'avez +jamais soupconne l'existence. Ainsi il vous decrit les FOLLICULES +de L'APPENDIX VERMIFORMIS d'un DZIGGUETAI. Vous ne savez pas ce +que c'est qu'un FOLLICULE. Vous ne savez pas ce que c'est qu'un +APPENDIX UERMIFORMIS. Vous n'avez jamais entendu parler du +DZIGGUETAI. Ainsi vous gagnez toutes ces connaisances a la fois, +qui s'attachent a votre esprit comme l'eau adhere aux plumes d'un +canard. On connait toutes les langues EX OFFICIO en devenant +membre d'une de ces Societes. Ainsi quand on entend lire un Essai +sur les dialectes Tchutchiens, on comprend tout cela de suite, et +s'instruit enormement. + +Il y a deux especes d'individus qu'on trouve toujours a ces +Societes: 1 (degree) Le membre a questions; 2 (degree) Le membre a +"Bylaws." + +La QUESTION est une specialite. Celui qui en fait metier ne fait +jamais des reponses. La question est une maniere tres commode de +dire les choses suivantes: "Me voila! Je ne suis pas fossil, +moi,--je respire encore! J'ai des idees,--voyez mon intelligence! +Vous ne croyiez pas, vous autres, que je savais quelque chose de +cela! Ah, nous avons un peu de sagacite, voyez vous! Nous ne +sommes nullement la bete qu'on pense!"--LE FAISEUR DE QUESTIONS +DONNE PEU D'ATTENTION AUX REPONSES QU'ON FAIT; CE N'EST PAS LA DANS +SA SPECIALITE. + +Le membre a "Bylaws" est le bouchon de toutes les emotions +mousseuses et genereuses qui se montrent dans la Societe. C'est un +empereur manque,--un tyran a la troiseme trituration. C'est un +esprit dur, borne, exact, grand dans les petitesses, petit dans les +grandeurs, selon le mot du grand Jefferson. On ne l'aime pas dans +la Societe, mais on le respecte et on le craint. Il n'y a qu'un +mot pour ce membre audessus de "Bylaws." Ce mot est pour lui ce +que l'Om est aux Hundous. C'est sa religion; il n'y a rien audela. +Ce mot la c'est la CONSTITUTION! + +Lesdites Societes publient des feuilletons de tems en tems. On les +trouve abandonnes a sa porte, nus comme des enfans nouveaunes, +faute de membrane cutanee, ou meme papyracee. Si on aime la +botanique, on y trouve une memoire sur les coquilles; si on fait +des etudes zoologiques, on square trouve un grand tas de q' [square +root of minus one], ce qui doit etre infiniment plus commode que +les encyclopedies. Ainsi il est clair comme la metaphysique qu'on +doit devenir membre d'une Societe telle que nous decrivons. + +Recette pour le Depilatoire Physiophilosophique +Chaux vive lb. ss. Eau bouillante Oj. +Depilez avec. Polissez ensuite. + + +I told the boy that his translation into French was creditable to +him; and some of the company wishing to hear what there was in the +piece that made me smile, I turned it into English for them, as +well as I could, on the spot. + +The landlady's daughter seemed to be much amused by the idea that a +depilatory could take the place of literary and scientific +accomplishments; she wanted me to print the piece, so that she +might send a copy of it to her cousin in Mizzourah; she didn't +think he'd have to do anything to the outside of his head to get +into any of the societies; he had to wear a wig once, when he +played a part in a tabullo. + +No,--said I,--I shouldn't think of printing that in English. I'll +tell you why. As soon as you get a few thousand people together in +a town, there is somebody that every sharp thing you say is sure to +hit. What if a thing was written in Paris or in Pekin?--that makes +no difference. Everybody in those cities, or almost everybody, has +his counterpart here, and in all large places.--You never studied +AVERAGES as I have had occasion to. + +I'll tell you how I came to know so much about averages. There was +one season when I was lecturing, commonly, five evenings in the +week, through most of the lecturing period. I soon found, as most +speakers do, that it was pleasanter to work one lecture than to +keep several in hand. + +--Don't you get sick to death of one lecture?--said the landlady's +daughter,--who had a new dress on that day, and was in spirits for +conversation. + +I was going to talk about averages,--I said,--but I have no +objection to telling you about lectures, to begin with. + +A new lecture always has a certain excitement connected with its +delivery. One thinks well of it, as of most things fresh from his +mind. After a few deliveries of it, one gets tired and then +disgusted with its repetition. Go on delivering it, and the +disgust passes off, until, after one has repeated it a hundred or a +hundred and fifty times, he rather enjoys the hundred and first or +hundred and fifty-first time, before a new audience. But this is +on one condition,--that he never lays the lecture down and lets it +cool. If he does, there comes on a loathing for it which is +intense, so that the sight of the old battered manuscript is as bad +as sea-sickness. + +A new lecture is just like any other new tool. We use it for a +while with pleasure. Then it blisters our hands, and we hate to +touch it. By-and-by our hands get callous, and then we have no +longer any sensitiveness about it. But if we give it up, the +calluses disappear; and if we meddle with it again, we miss the +novelty and get the blisters.--The story is often quoted of +Whitefield, that he said a sermon was good for nothing until it had +been preached forty times. A lecture doesn't begin to be old until +it has passed its hundredth delivery; and some, I think, have +doubled, if not quadrupled, that number. These old lectures are a +man's best, commonly; they improve by age, also,--like the pipes, +fiddles, and poems I told you of the other day. One learns to make +the most of their strong points and to carry off their weak ones, +--to take out the really good things which don't tell on the +audience, and put in cheaper things that do. All this degrades +him, of course, but it improves the lecture for general delivery. +A thoroughly popular lecture ought to have nothing in it which five +hundred people cannot all take in a flash, just as it is uttered. + +--No, indeed,--I should be very sorry to say anything disrespectful +of audiences. I have been kindly treated by a great many, and may +occasionally face one hereafter. But I tell you the AVERAGE +intellect of five hundred persons, taken as they come, is not very +high. It may be sound and safe, so far as it goes, but it is not +very rapid or profound. A lecture ought to be something which all +can understand, about something which interests everybody. I +think, that, if any experienced lecturer gives you a different +account from this, it will probably be one of those eloquent or +forcible speakers who hold an audience by the charm of their +manner, whatever they talk about,--even when they don't talk very +well. + +But an AVERAGE, which was what I meant to speak about, is one of +the most extraordinary subjects of observation and study. It is +awful in its uniformity, in its automatic necessity of action. Two +communities of ants or bees are exactly alike in all their actions, +so far as we can see. Two lyceum assemblies, of five hundred each, +are so nearly alike, that they are absolutely undistinguishable in +many cases by any definite mark, and there is nothing but the place +and time by which one can tell the "remarkably intelligent +audience" of a town in New York or Ohio from one in any New England +town of similar size. Of course, if any principle of selection has +come in, as in those special associations of young men which are +common in cities, it deranges the uniformity of the assemblage. +But let there be no such interfering circumstances, and one knows +pretty well even the look the audience will have, before he goes +in. Front seats: a few old folk,--shiny-headed,--slant up best +ear towards the speaker,--drop off asleep after a while, when the +air begins to get a little narcotic with carbonic acid. Bright +women's faces, young and middle-aged, a little behind these, but +toward the front--(pick out the best, and lecture mainly to that.) +Here and there a countenance, sharp and scholarlike, and a dozen +pretty female ones sprinkled about. An indefinite number of pairs +of young people,--happy, but not always very attentive. Boys, in +the background, more or less quiet. Dull faces here, there,--in +how many places! I don't say dull PEOPLE, but faces without a ray +of sympathy or a movement of expression. They are what kill the +lecturer. These negative faces with their vacuous eyes and stony +lineaments pump and suck the warm soul out of him;--that is the +chief reason why lecturers grow so pale before the season is over. +They render LATENT any amount of vital caloric; they act on our +minds as those cold-blooded creatures I was talking about act on +our hearts. + +Out of all these inevitable elements the audience is generated,--a +great compound vertebrate, as much like fifty others you have seen +as any two mammals of the same species are like each other. Each +audience laughs, and each cries, in just the same places of your +lecture; that is, if you make one laugh or cry, you make all. Even +those little indescribable movements which a lecturer takes +cognizance of, just as a driver notices his horse's cocking his +ears, are sure to come in exactly the same place of your lecture +always. I declare to you, that as the monk said about the picture +in the convent,--that he sometimes thought the living tenants were +the shadows, and the painted figures the realities,--I have +sometimes felt as if I were a wandering spirit, and this great +unchanging multivertebrate which I faced night after night was one +ever-listening animal, which writhed along after me wherever I +fled, and coiled at my feet every evening, turning up to me the +same sleepless eyes which I thought I had closed with my last +drowsy incantation! + +--Oh, yes! A thousand kindly and courteous acts,--a thousand faces +that melted individually out of my recollection as the April snow +melts, but only to steal away and find the beds of flowers whose +roots are memory, but which blossom in poetry and dreams. I am not +ungrateful, nor unconscious of all the good feeling and +intelligence everywhere to be met with through the vast parish to +which the lecturer ministers. But when I set forth, leading a +string of my mind's daughters to market, as the country-folk fetch +in their strings of horses--Pardon me, that was a coarse fellow who +sneered at the sympathy wasted on an unhappy lecturer, as if, +because he was decently paid for his services, he had therefore +sold his sensibilities.--Family men get dreadfully homesick. In +the remote and bleak village the heart returns to the red blaze of +the logs in one's fireplace at home. + + +"There are his young barbarians all at play,"-- + + +if he owns any youthful savages.--No, the world has a million +roosts for a man, but only one nest. + +--It is a fine thing to be an oracle to which an appeal is always +made in all discussions. The men of facts wait their turn in grim +silence, with that slight tension about the nostrils which the +consciousness of carrying a "settler" in the form of a fact or a +revolver gives the individual thus armed. When a person is really +full of information, and does not abuse it to crush conversation, +his part is to that of the real talkers what the instrumental +accompaniment is in a trio or quartette of vocalists. + +--What do I mean by the real talkers?--Why, the people with fresh +ideas, of course, and plenty of good warm words to dress them in. +Facts always yield the place of honor, in conversation, to thoughts +about facts; but if a false note is uttered, down comes the finger +on the key and the man of facts asserts his true dignity. I have +known three of these men of facts, at least, who were always +formidable,--and one of them was tyrannical. + +--Yes, a man sometimes makes a grand appearance on a particular +occasion; but these men knew something about almost everything, and +never made mistakes.--He? Veneers in first-rate style. The +mahogany scales off now and then in spots, and then you see the +cheap light stuff--I found--very fine in conversational +information, the other day when we were in company. The talk ran +upon mountains. He was wonderfully well acquainted with the +leading facts about the Andes, the Apennines, and the Appalachians; +he had nothing in particular to say about Ararat, Ben Nevis, and +various other mountains that were mentioned. By and by some +Revolutionary anecdote came up, and he showed singular familiarity +with the lives of the Adamses, and gave many details relating to +Major Andre. A point of Natural History being suggested, he gave +an excellent account of the air-bladder of fishes. He was very +full upon the subject of agriculture, but retired from the +conversation when horticulture was introduced in the discussion. +So he seemed well acquainted with the geology of anthracite, but +did not pretend to know anything of other kinds of coal. There was +something so odd about the extent and limitations of his knowledge, +that I suspected all at once what might be the meaning of it, and +waited till I got an opportunity.--Have you seen the "New American +Cyclopaedia?" said I.--I have, he replied; I received an early +copy.--How far does it go?--He turned red, and answered,--To +Araguay.--Oh, said I to myself,--not quite so far as Ararat;--that +is the reason he knew nothing about it; but he must have read all +the rest straight through, and, if he can remember what is in this +volume until he has read all those that are to come, he will know +more than I ever thought he would. + +Since I had this experience, I hear that somebody else has related +a similar story. I didn't borrow it, for all that.--I made a +comparison at table some time since, which has often been quoted +and received many compliments. It was that of the mind of a bigot +to the pupil of the eye; the more light you pour on it, the more it +contracts. The simile is a very obvious, and, I suppose I may now +say, a happy one; for it has just been shown me that it occurs in a +Preface to certain Political Poems of Thomas Moore's published long +before my remark was repeated. When a person of fair character for +literary honesty uses an image, such as another has employed before +him, the presumption is, that he has struck upon it independently, +or unconsciously recalled it, supposing it his own. + +It is impossible to tell, in a great many cases, whether a +comparison which suddenly suggests itself is a new conception or a +recollection. I told you the other day that I never wrote a line +of verse that seemed to me comparatively good, but it appeared old +at once, and often as if it had been borrowed. But I confess I +never suspected the above comparison of being old, except from the +fact of its obviousness. It is proper, however, that I proceed by +a formal instrument to relinquish all claim to any property in an +idea given to the world at about the time when I had just joined +the class in which Master Thomas Moore was then a somewhat advanced +scholar. + +I, therefore, in full possession of my native honesty, but knowing +the liability of all men to be elected to public office, and for +that reason feeling uncertain how soon I may be in danger of losing +it, do hereby renounce all claim to being considered the FIRST +person who gave utterance to a certain simile or comparison +referred to in the accompanying documents, and relating to the +pupil of the eye on the one part and the mind of the bigot on the +other. I hereby relinquish all glory and profit, and especially +all claims to letters from autograph collectors, founded upon my +supposed property in the above comparison,--knowing well, that, +according to the laws of literature, they who speak first hold the +fee of the thing said. I do also agree that all Editors of +Cyclopedias and Biographical Dictionaries, all Publishers of +Reviews and Papers, and all Critics writing therein, shall be at +liberty to retract or qualify any opinion predicated on the +supposition that I was the sole and undisputed author of the above +comparison. But, inasmuch as I do affirm that the comparison +aforesaid was uttered by me in the firm belief that it was new and +wholly my own, and as I have good reason to think that I had never +seen or heard it when first expressed by me, and as it is well +known that different persons may independently utter the same +idea,--as is evinced by that familiar line from Donatus,-- + +"Pereant illi qui ante nos nostra dixerunt,"-- + +now, therefore, I do request by this instrument that all +well-disposed persons will abstain from asserting or implying that I +am open to any accusation whatsoever touching the said comparison, +and, if they have so asserted or implied, that they will have the +manliness forthwith to retract the same assertion or insinuation. + + +I think few persons have a greater disgust for plagiarism than +myself. If I had even suspected that the idea in question was +borrowed, I should have disclaimed originality, or mentioned the +coincidence, as I once did in a case where I had happened to hit on +an idea of Swift's.--But what shall I do about these verses I was +going to read you? I am afraid that half mankind would accuse me +of stealing their thoughts, if I printed them. I am convinced that +several of you, especially if you are getting a little on in life, +will recognize some of these sentiments as having passed through +your consciousness at some time. I can't help it,--it is too late +now. The verses are written, and you must have them. Listen, +then, and you shall hear + + +WHAT WE ALL THINK. + +That age was older once than now, +In spite of locks untimely shed, +Or silvered on the youthful brow; +That babes make love and children wed. + +That sunshine had a heavenly glow, +Which faded with those "good old days," +When winters came with deeper snow, +And autumns with a softer haze. + +That--mother, sister, wife, or child-- +The "best of women" each has known. +Were schoolboys ever half so wild? +How young the grandpapas have grown, + +That BUT FOR THIS our souls were free, +And BUT FOR THAT our lives were blest; +That in some season yet to be +Our cares will leave us time to rest. + +Whene'er we groan with ache or pain, +Some common ailment of the race,-- +Though doctors think the matter plain,-- +That ours is "a peculiar case." + +That when like babes with fingers burned +We count one bitter maxim more, +Our lesson all the world has learned, +And men are wiser than before. + +That when we sob o'er fancied woes, +The angels hovering overhead +Count every pitying drop that flows +And love us for the tears we shed. + +That when we stand with tearless eye +And turn the beggar from our door, +They still approve us when we sigh, +"Ah, had I but ONE THOUSAND MORE!" + +That weakness smoothed the path of sin, +In half the slips our youth has known; +And whatsoe'er its blame has been, +That Mercy flowers on faults outgrown. + +Though temples crowd the crumbled brink +O'erhanging truth's eternal flow, +Their tablets bold with WHAT WE THINK, +Their echoes dumb to WHAT WE KNOW; + +That one unquestioned text we read, +All doubt beyond, all fear above, +Nor crackling pile nor cursing creed +Can burn or blot it: GOD IS LOVE! + + + +CHAPTER VII + + + +[This particular record is noteworthy principally for containing a +paper by my friend, the Professor, with a poem or two annexed or +intercalated. I would suggest to young persons that they should +pass over it for the present, and read, instead of it, that story +about the young man who was in love with the young lady, and in +great trouble for something like nine pages, but happily married on +the tenth page or thereabouts, which, I take it for granted, will +be contained in the periodical where this is found, unless it +differ from all other publications of the kind. Perhaps, if such +young people will lay the number aside, and take it up ten years, +or a little more, from the present time, they may find something in +it for their advantage. They can't possibly understand it all +now.] + +My friend, the Professor, began talking with me one day in a dreary +sort of way. I couldn't get at the difficulty for a good while, +but at last it turned out that somebody had been calling him an old +man.--He didn't mind his students calling him THE old man, he said. +That was a technical expression, and he thought that he remembered +hearing it applied to himself when he was about twenty-five. It +may be considered as a familiar and sometimes endearing +appellation. An Irishwoman calls her husband "the old man," and he +returns the caressing expression by speaking of her as "the old +woman." But now, said he, just suppose a case like one of these. +A young stranger is overheard talking of you as a very nice old +gentleman. A friendly and genial critic speaks of your green old +age as illustrating the truth of some axiom you had uttered with +reference to that period of life. What _I_ call an old man is a +person with a smooth, shining crown and a fringe of scattered white +hairs, seen in the streets on sunshiny days, stooping as he walks, +bearing a cane, moving cautiously and slowly; telling old stories, +smiling at present follies, living in a narrow world of dry habits; +one that remains waking when others have dropped asleep, and keeps +a little night-lamp-flame of life burning year after year, if the +lamp is not upset, and there is only a careful hand held round it +to prevent the puffs of wind from blowing the flame out. That's +what I call an old man. + +Now, said the Professor, you don't mean to tell me that I have got +to that yet? Why, bless you, I am several years short of the time +when--[I knew what was coming, and could hardly keep from laughing; +twenty years ago he used to quote it as one of those absurd +speeches men of genius will make, and now he is going to argue from +it]--several years short of the time when Balzac says that men are +--most--you know--dangerous to--the hearts of--in short, most to be +dreaded by duennas that have charge of susceptible females.--What +age is that? said I, statistically.--Fifty-two years, answered the +Professor.--Balzac ought to know, said I, if it is true that Goethe +said of him that each of his stories must have been dug out of a +woman's heart. But fifty-two is a high figure. + +Stand in the light of the window, Professor, said I.---The +Professor took up the desired position.--You have white hairs, I +said.--Had 'em any time these twenty years, said the Professor. +--And the crow's-foot,--pes anserinus, rather.--The Professor smiled, +as I wanted him to, and the folds radiated like the ridges of a +half-opened fan, from the outer corner of the eyes to the temples. +--And the calipers said I.--What are the calipers? he asked, +curiously.--Why, the parenthesis, said I.--Parenthesis? said the +Professor; what's that?--Why, look in the glass when you are +disposed to laugh, and see if your mouth isn't framed in a couple +of crescent lines,--so, my boy ( ).--It's all nonsense, said the +Professor; just look at my BICEPS;--and he began pulling off his +coat to show me his arm. Be careful, said I; you can't bear +exposure to the air, at your time of life, as you could once.--I +will box with you, said the Professor, row with you, walk with you, +ride with you, swim with you, or sit at table with you, for fifty +dollars a side.--Pluck survives stamina, I answered. + +The Professor went off a little out of humor. A few weeks +afterwards he came in, looking very good-natured, and brought me a +paper, which I have here, and from which I shall read you some +portions, if you don't object. He had been thinking the matter +over, he said,--had read Cicero "De Senectute," and made up his +mind to meet old age half way. These were some of his reflections +that he had written down; so here you have. + + +THE PROFESSOR'S PAPER. + + +There is no doubt when old age begins. The human body is a furnace +which keeps in blast three-score years and ten, more or less. It +burns about three hundred pounds of carbon a year, (besides other +fuel,) when in fair working order, according to a great chemist's +estimate. When the fire slackens, life declines; when it goes out, +we are dead. + +It has been shown by some noted French experimenters, that the +amount of combustion increases up to about the thirtieth year, +remains stationary to about forty-five, and then diminishes. This +last is the point where old age starts from. The great fact of +physical life is the perpetual commerce with the elements, and the +fire is the measure of it. + +About this time of life, if food is plenty where you live,--for +that, you know, regulates matrimony,--you may be expecting to find +yourself a grandfather some fine morning; a kind of domestic +felicity that gives one a cool shiver of delight to think of, as +among the not remotely possible events. + +I don't mind much those slipshod lines Dr. Johnson wrote to Thrale, +telling her about life's declining from THIRTY-FIVE; the furnace is +in full blast for ten years longer, as I have said. The Romans +came very near the mark; their age of enlistment reached from +seventeen to forty-six years. + +What is the use of fighting against the seasons, or the tides, or +the movements of the planetary bodies, or this ebb in the wave of +life that flows through us? We are old fellows from the moment the +fire begins to go out. Let us always behave like gentlemen when we +are introduced to new acquaintance. + + +Incipit Allegoria Senectutis. + + +Old Age, this is Mr. Professor; Mr. Professor, this is Old Age. + +Old Age.--Mr. Professor, I hope to see you well. I have known you +for some time, though I think you did not know me. Shall we walk +down the street together? + +Professor (drawing back a little).--We can talk more quietly, +perhaps, in my study. Will you tell me how it is you seem to be +acquainted with everybody you are introduced to, though he +evidently considers you an entire stranger? + +Old Age.--I make it a rule never to force myself upon a person's +recognition until I have known him at least FIVE YEARS. + +Professor.--Do you mean to say that you have known me so long as +that? + +Old Age. I do. I left my card on you longer ago than that, but I +am afraid you never read it; yet I see you have it with you. + +Professor.--Where? + +Old Age.--There, between your eyebrows,--three straight lines +running up and down; all the probate courts know that token,--"Old +Age, his mark." Put your forefinger on the inner end of one +eyebrow, and your middle finger on the inner end of the other +eyebrow; now separate the fingers, and you will smooth out my +sign-manual; that's the way you used to look before I left my card +on you. + +Professor.--What message do people generally send back when you +first call on them? + +Old Age.--Not at home. Then I leave a card and go. Next year I +call; get the same answer; leave another card. So for five or +six,--sometimes ten years or more. At last, if they don't let me +in, I break in through the front door or the windows. + +We talked together in this way some time. Then Old Age said +again,--Come, let us walk down the street together,--and offered me +a cane, an eyeglass, a tippet, and a pair of over-shoes.--No, much +obliged to you, said I. I don't want those things, and I had a +little rather talk with you here, privately, in my study. So I +dressed myself up in a jaunty way and walked out alone;--got a +fall, caught a cold, was laid up with a lumbago, and had time to +think over this whole matter. + + +Explicit Allegoria Senectutis. + + +We have settled when old age begins. Like all Nature's processes, +it is gentle and gradual in its approaches, strewed with illusions, +and all its little griefs soothed by natural sedatives. But the +iron hand is not less irresistible because it wears the velvet +glove. The button-wood throws off its bark in large flakes, which +one may find lying at its foot, pushed out, and at last pushed off, +by that tranquil movement from beneath, which is too slow to be +seen, but too powerful to be arrested. One finds them always, but +one rarely sees them fall. So it is our youth drops from us, +--scales off, sapless and lifeless, and lays bare the tender and +immature fresh growth of old age. Looked at collectively, the +changes of old age appear as a series of personal insults and +indignities, terminating at last in death, which Sir Thomas Browne +has called "the very disgrace and ignominy of our nature." + + +My lady's cheek can boast no more +The cranberry white and pink it wore; +And where her shining locks divide, +The parting line is all too wide-- + + +No, no,--this will never do. Talk about men, if you will, but +spare the poor women. + +We have a brief description of seven stages of life by a remarkably +good observer. It is very presumptuous to attempt to add to it, +yet I have been struck with the fact that life admits of a natural +analysis into no less than fifteen distinct periods. Taking the +five primary divisions, infancy, childhood, youth, manhood, old +age, each of these has its own three periods of immaturity, +complete development, and decline. I recognize on OLD baby at +once,--with its "pipe and mug," (a stick of candy and a +porringer,)--so does everybody; and an old child shedding its +milk-teeth is only a little prototype of the old man shedding his +permanent ones. Fifty or thereabouts is only the childhood, as it +were, of old age; the graybeard youngster must be weaned from his +late suppers now. So you will see that you have to make fifteen +stages at any rate, and that it would not be hard to make +twenty-five; five primary, each with five secondary divisions. + +The infancy and childhood of commencing old age have the same +ingenuous simplicity and delightful unconsciousness about them as +the first stage of the earlier periods of life shows. The great +delusion of mankind is in supposing that to be individual and +exceptional which is universal and according to law. A person is +always startled when he hears himself seriously called an old man +for the first time. + +Nature gets us out of youth into manhood, as sailors are hurried on +board of vessels,--in a state of intoxication. We are hustled into +maturity reeling with our passions and imaginations, and we have +drifted far away from port before we awake out of our illusions. +But to carry us out of maturity into old age, without our knowing +where we are going, she drugs us with strong opiates, and so we +stagger along with wide open eyes that see nothing until snow +enough has fallen on our heads to rouse our comatose brains out of +their stupid trances. + +There is one mark of age that strikes me more than any of the +physical ones;--I mean the formation of Habits. An old man who +shrinks into himself falls into ways that become as positive and as +much beyond the reach of outside influences as if they were +governed by clock-work. The ANIMAL functions, as the physiologists +call them, in distinction from the ORGANIC, tend, in the process of +deterioration to which age and neglect united gradually lead them, +to assume the periodical or rhythmical type of movement. Every +man's HEART (this organ belongs, you know, to the organic system) +has a regular mode of action; but I know a great many men whose +BRAINS, and all their voluntary existence flowing from their +brains, have a systole and diastole as regular as that of the heart +itself. Habit is the approximation of the animal system to the +organic. It is a confession of failure in the highest function of +being, which involves a perpetual self-determination, in full view +of all existing circumstances. But habit, you see, is an action in +present circumstances from past motives. It is substituting a vis +a tergo for the evolution of living force. + +When a man, instead of burning up three hundred pounds of carbon a +year, has got down to two hundred and fifty, it is plain enough he +must economize force somewhere. Now habit is a labor-saving +invention which enables a man to get along with less fuel,--that is +all; for fuel is force, you know, just as much in the page I am +writing for you as in the locomotive or the legs that carry it to +you. Carbon is the same thing, whether you call it wood, or coal, +or bread and cheese. A reverend gentleman demurred to this +statement,--as if, because combustion is asserted to be the sine +qua non of thought, therefore thought is alleged to be a purely +chemical process. Facts of chemistry are one thing, I told him, +and facts of consciousness another. It can be proved to him, by a +very simple analysis of some of his spare elements, that every +Sunday, when he does his duty faithfully, he uses up more +phosphorus out of his brain and nerves than on ordinary days. But +then he had his choice whether to do his duty, or to neglect it, +and save his phosphorus and other combustibles. + +It follows from all this that THE FORMATION OF HABITS ought +naturally to be, as it is, the special characteristic of age. As +for the muscular powers, they pass their maximum long before the +time when the true decline of life begins, if we may judge by the +experience of the ring. A man is "stale," I think, in their +language, soon after thirty,--often, no doubt, much earlier, as +gentlemen of the pugilistic profession are exceedingly apt to keep +their vital fire burning WITH THE BLOWER UP. + +--So far without Tully. But in the mean time I have been reading +the treatise, "De Senectute." It is not long, but a leisurely +performance. The old gentleman was sixty-three years of age when +he addressed it to his friend T. Pomponius Atticus, Eq., a person +of distinction, some two or three years older. We read it when we +are schoolboys, forget all about it for thirty years, and then take +it up again by a natural instinct,--provided always that we read +Latin as we drink water, without stopping to taste it, as all of us +who ever learned it at school or college ought to do. + +Cato is the chief speaker in the dialogue. A good deal of it is +what would be called in vulgar phrase "slow." It unpacks and +unfolds incidental illustrations which a modern writer would look +at the back of, and toss each to its pigeon-hole. I think ancient +classics and ancient people are alike in the tendency to this kind +of expansion. + +An old doctor came to me once (this is literal fact) with some +contrivance or other for people with broken kneepans. As the +patient would be confined for a good while, he might find it dull +work to sit with his hands in his lap. Reading, the ingenious +inventor suggested, would be an agreeable mode of passing the time. +He mentioned, in his written account of his contrivance, various +works that might amuse the weary hour. I remember only three,--Don +Quixote, Tom Jones, and WATTS ON THE MIND. + +It is not generally understood that Cicero's essay was delivered as +a lyceum lecture, (concio popularis,) at the Temple of Mercury. +The journals (papyri) of the day ("Tempora Quotidiana,"--"Tribuinus +Quirinalis,"--"Praeco Romanus," and the rest) gave abstracts of it, +one of which I have translated and modernized, as being a +substitute for the analysis I intended to make. + +IV. Kal. Mart. . . . . + +The lecture at the Temple of Mercury, last evening, was well +attended by the elite of our great city. Two hundred thousand +sestertia were thought to have been represented in the house. The +doors were besieged by a mob of shabby fellows, (illotum vulgus,) +who were at length quieted after two or three had been somewhat +roughly handled (gladio jugulati). The speaker was the well-known +Mark Tully, Eq.,--the subject Old Age. Mr. T. has a lean and +scraggy person, with a very unpleasant excrescence upon his nasal +feature, from which his nickname of CHICK-PEA (Cicero) is said by +some to be derived. As a lecturer is public property, we may +remark, that his outer garment (toga) was of cheap stuff and +somewhat worn, and that his general style and appearance of dress +and manner (habitus, vestitusque) were somewhat provincial. + +The lecture consisted of an imaginary dialogue between Cato and +Laelius. We found the first portion rather heavy, and retired a +few moments for refreshment (pocula quaedam vini).--All want to +reach old age, says Cato, and grumble when they get it; therefore +they are donkeys.--The lecturer will allow us to say that he is the +donkey; we know we shall grumble at old age, but we want to live +through youth and manhood, IN SPITE of the troubles we shall groan +over.--There was considerable prosing as to what old age can do and +can't.--True, but not new. Certainly, old folks can't jump,--break +the necks of their thigh-bones, (femorum cervices,) if they do; +can't crack nuts with their teeth; can't climb a greased pole +(malum inunctum scandere non possunt); but they can tell old +stories and give you good advice; if they know what you have made +up your mind to do when you ask them.--All this is well enough, but +won't set the Tiber on fire (Tiberim accendere nequaquam potest.) + +There were some clever things enough, (dicta hand inepta,) a few of +which are worth reporting.--Old people are accused of being +forgetful; but they never forget where they have put their money. +--Nobody is so old he doesn't think he can live a year.--The lecturer +quoted an ancient maxim,--Grow old early, if you would be old +long,--but disputed it.--Authority, he thought, was the chief +privilege of age.--It is not great to have money, but fine to +govern those that have it.--Old age begins at FORTY-SIX years, +according to the common opinion.--It is not every kind of old age +or of wine that grows sour with time.--Some excellent remarks were +made on immortality, but mainly borrowed from and credited to +Plato.--Several pleasing anecdotes were told.--Old Milo, champion +of the heavy weights in his day, looked at his arms and whimpered, +"They are dead." Not so dead as you, you old fool,--says Cato; +--you never were good for anything but for your shoulders and +flanks.--Pisistratus asked Solon what made him dare to be so +obstinate. Old age, said Solon. + +The lecture was on the whole acceptable, and a credit to our +culture and civilization.--The reporter goes on to state that there +will be no lecture next week, on account of the expected combat +between the bear and the barbarian. Betting (sponsio) two to one +(duo ad unum) on the bear. + + +--After all, the most encouraging things I find in the treatise, +"De Senectute," are the stories of men who have found new +occupations when growing old, or kept up their common pursuits in +the extreme period of life. Cato learned Greek when he was old, +and speaks of wishing to learn the fiddle, or some such instrument, +(fidibus,) after the example of Socrates. Solon learned something +new, every day, in his old age, as he gloried to proclaim. Cyrus +pointed out with pride and pleasure the trees he had planted with +his own hand. [I remember a pillar on the Duke of Northumberland's +estate at Alnwick, with an inscription in similar words, if not the +same. That, like other country pleasures, never wears out. None +is too rich, none too poor, none too young, none too old to enjoy +it.] There is a New England story I have heard more to the point, +however, than any of Cicero's. A young farmer was urged to set out +some apple-trees.--No, said he, they are too long growing, and I +don't want to plant for other people. The young farmer's father +was spoken to about it, but he, with better reason, alleged that +apple-trees were slow and life was fleeting. At last some one +mentioned it to the old grandfather of the young farmer. He had +nothing else to do,--so he stuck in some trees. He lived long +enough to drink barrels of cider made from the apples that grew on +those trees. + +As for myself, after visiting a friend lately,--[Do remember all +the time that this is the Professor's paper.]--I satisfied myself +that I had better concede the fact that--my contemporaries are not +so young as they have been,--and that,--awkward as it is,--science +and history agree in telling me that I can claim the immunities and +must own the humiliations of the early stage of senility. Ah! but +we have all gone down the hill together. The dandies of my time +have split their waistbands and taken to high-low shoes. The +beauties of my recollections--where are they? They have run the +gantlet of the years as well as I. First the years pelted them +with red roses till their cheeks were all on fire. By and by they +began throwing white roses, and that morning flush passed away. At +last one of the years threw a snow-ball, and after that no year let +the poor girls pass without throwing snow-balls. And then came +rougher missiles,--ice and stones; and from time to time an arrow +whistled, and down went one of the poor girls. So there are but +few left; and we don't call those few GIRLS, but-- + +Ah, me! Here am I groaning just as the old Greek sighed Ai, ai! +and the old Roman, Eheu! I have no doubt we should die of shame +and grief at the indignities offered us by age, if it were not that +we see so many others as badly or worse off than ourselves. We +always compare ourselves with our contemporaries. + +[I was interrupted in my reading just here. Before I began at the +next breakfast, I read them these verses;--I hope you will like +them, and get a useful lesson from them.] + + +THE LAST BLOSSOM. + + +Though young no more, we still would dream +Of beauty's dear deluding wiles; +The leagues of life to graybeards seem +Shorter than boyhood's lingering miles. + +Who knows a woman's wild caprice? +It played with Goethe's silvered hair, +And many a Holy Father's "niece" +Has softly smoothed the papal chair. + +When sixty bids us sigh in vain +To melt the heart of sweet sixteen, +We think upon those ladies twain +Who loved so well the tough old Dean. + +We see the Patriarch's wintry face, +The maid of Egypt's dusky glow, +And dream that Youth and Age embrace, +As April violets fill with snow. + +Tranced in her Lord's Olympian smile +His lotus-loving Memphian lies,-- +The musky daughter of the Nile +With plaited hair and almond eyes. + +Might we but share one wild caress +Ere life's autumnal blossoms fall, +And Earth's brown, clinging lips impress +The long cold kiss that waits us all! + +My bosom heaves, remembering yet +The morning of that blissful day +When Rose, the flower of spring, I met, +And gave my raptured soul away. + +Flung from her eyes of purest blue, +A lasso, with its leaping chain +Light as a loop of larkspurs, flew +O'er sense and spirit, heart and brain. + +Thou com'st to cheer my waning age, +Sweet vision, waited for so long! +Dove that would seek the poet's cage +Lured by the magic breath of song! + +She blushes! Ah, reluctant maid, +Love's drapeau rouge the truth has told! +O'er girlhood's yielding barricade +Floats the great Leveller's crimson fold! + +Come to my arms!--love heeds not years +No frost the bud of passion knows.-- +Ha! what is this my frenzy hears? +A voice behind me uttered,--Rose! + +Sweet was her smile,--but not for me; +Alas, when woman looks TOO kind, +Just turn your foolish head and see,-- +Some youth is walking close behind! + + +As to GIVING UP because the almanac or the Family-Bible says that +it is about time to do it, I have no intention of doing any such +thing. I grant you that I burn less carbon than some years ago. I +see people of my standing really good for nothing, decrepit, +effete, la levre inferieure deja pendante, with what little life +they have left mainly concentrated in their epigastrium. But as +the disease of old age is epidemic, endemic, and sporadic, and +everybody that lives long enough is sure to catch it, I am going to +say, for the encouragement of such as need it, how I treat the +malady in my own case. + +First. As I feel, that, when I have anything to do, there is less +time for it than when I was younger, I find that I give my +attention more thoroughly, and use my time more economically than +ever before; so that I can learn anything twice as easily as in my +earlier days. I am not, therefore, afraid to attack a new study. +I took up a difficult language a very few years ago with good +success, and think of mathematics and metaphysics by-and-by. + +Secondly. I have opened my eyes to a good many neglected +privileges and pleasures within my reach, and requiring only a +little courage to enjoy them. You may well suppose it pleased me +to find that old Cato was thinking of learning to play the fiddle, +when I had deliberately taken it up in my old age, and satisfied +myself that I could get much comfort, if not much music, out of it. + +Thirdly. I have found that some of those active exercises, which +are commonly thought to belong to young folks only, may be enjoyed +at a much later period. + +A young friend has lately written an admirable article in one of +the journals, entitled, "Saints and their Bodies." Approving of +his general doctrines, and grateful for his records of personal +experience, I cannot refuse to add my own experimental confirmation +of his eulogy of one particular form of active exercise and +amusement, namely, BOATING. For the past nine years, I have rowed +about, during a good part of the summer, on fresh or salt water. +My present fleet on the river Charles consists of three row-boats. +1. A small flat-bottomed skiff of the shape of a flat-iron, kept +mainly to lend to boys. 2. A fancy "dory" for two pairs of sculls, +in which I sometimes go out with my young folks. 3. My own +particular water-sulky, a "skeleton" or "shell" race-boat, +twenty-two feet long, with huge outriggers, which boat I pull with +ten-foot sculls,--alone, of course, as it holds but one, and tips him +out, if he doesn't mind what he is about. In this I glide around +the Back Bay, down the stream, up the Charles to Cambridge and +Watertown, up the Mystic, round the wharves, in the wake of +steamboats which leave a swell after them delightful to rock upon; +I linger under the bridges,--those "caterpillar bridges," as my +brother professor so happily called them; rub against the black +sides of old wood-schooners; cool down under the overhanging stern +of some tall Indiaman; stretch across to the Navy-Yard, where the +sentinel warns me off from the Ohio,--just as if I should hurt her +by lying in her shadow; then strike out into the harbor, where the +water gets clear and the air smells of the ocean,--till all at once +I remember, that, if a west wind blows up of a sudden, I shall +drift along past the islands, out of sight of the dear old +State-house,--plate, tumbler, knife and fork all waiting at home, +but no chair drawn up at the table,--all the dear people waiting, +waiting, waiting, while the boat is sliding, sliding, sliding into +the great desert, where there is no tree and no fountain. As I don't +want my wreck to be washed up on one of the beaches in company with +devil's-aprons, bladder-weeds, dead horse-shoes, and bleached +crab-shells, I turn about and flap my long narrow wings for home. +When the tide is running out swiftly, I have a splendid fight to get +through the bridges, but always make it a rule to beat,--though I +have been jammed up into pretty tight places at times, and was caught +once between a vessel swinging round and the pier, until our bones +(the boat's, that is) cracked as if we had been in the jaws of +Behemoth. Then back to my moorings at the foot of the Common, off +with the rowing-dress, dash under the green translucent wave, return +to the garb of civilization, walk through my Garden, take a look at +my elms on the Common, and, reaching my habitat, in consideration of +my advanced period of life, indulge in the Elysian abandonment of a +huge recumbent chair. + +When I have established a pair of well-pronounced feathering- +calluses on my thumbs, when I am in training so that I can do my +fifteen miles at a stretch without coming to grief in any way, when +I can perform my mile in eight minutes or a little less, then I +feel as if I had old Time's head in chancery, and could give it to +him at my leisure. + +I do not deny the attraction of walking. I have bored this ancient +city through and through in my daily travels, until I know it as an +old inhabitant of a Cheshire knows his cheese. Why, it was I who, +in the course of these rambles, discovered that remarkable avenue +called Myrtle Street, stretching in one long line from east of the +Reservoir to a precipitous and rudely paved cliff which looks down +on the grim abode of Science, and beyond it to the far hills; a +promenade so delicious in its repose, so cheerfully varied with +glimpses down the northern slope into busy Cambridge Street with +its iron river of the horse-railroad, and wheeled barges gliding +back and forward over it,--so delightfully closing at its western +extremity in sunny courts and passages where I know peace, and +beauty, and virtue, and serene old age must be perpetual tenants, +--so alluring to all who desire to take their daily stroll, in the +words of Dr. Watts,-- + +"Alike unknowing and unknown,"-- + +that nothing but a sense of duty would have prompted me to reveal +the secret of its existence. I concede, therefore, that walking is +an immeasurably fine invention, of which old age ought constantly +to avail itself. + +Saddle-leather is in some respects even preferable to sole-leather. +The principal objection to it is of a financial character. But you +may be sure that Bacon and Sydenham did not recommend it for +nothing. One's hepar, or, in vulgar language, liver,--a ponderous +organ, weighing some three or four pounds,--goes up and down like +the dasher of a churn in the midst of the other vital arrangements, +at every step of a trotting horse. The brains also are shaken up +like coppers in a money-box. Riding is good, for those that are +born with a silver-mounted bridle in their hand, and can ride as +much and as often as they like, without thinking all the time they +hear that steady grinding sound as the horse's jaws triturate with +calm lateral movement the bank-bills and promises to pay upon which +it is notorious that the profligate animal in question feeds day +and night. + +Instead, however, of considering these kinds of exercise in this +empirical way, I will devote a brief space to an examination of +them in a more scientific form. + +The pleasure of exercise is due first to a purely physical +impression, and secondly to a sense of power in action. The first +source of pleasure varies of course with our condition and the +state of the surrounding circumstances; the second with the amount +and kind of power, and the extent and kind of action. In all forms +of active exercise there are three powers simultaneously in +action,--the will, the muscles, and the intellect. Each of these +predominates in different kinds of exercise. In walking, the will +and muscles are so accustomed to work together and perform their +task with so little expenditure of force, that the intellect is +left comparatively free. The mental pleasure in walking, as such, +is in the sense of power over all our moving machinery. But in +riding, I have the additional pleasure of governing another will, +and my muscles extend to the tips of the animal's ears and to his +four hoofs, instead of stopping at my hands and feet. Now in this +extension of my volition and my physical frame into another animal, +my tyrannical instincts and my desire for heroic strength are at +once gratified. When the horse ceases to have a will of his own +and his muscles require no special attention on your part, then you +may live on horseback as Wesley did, and write sermons or take +naps, as you like. But you will observe, that, in riding on +horseback, you always have a feeling, that, after all, it is not +you that do the work, but the animal, and this prevents the +satisfaction from being complete. + +Now let us look at the conditions of rowing. I won't suppose you +to be disgracing yourself in one of those miserable tubs, tugging +in which is to rowing the true boat what riding a cow is to +bestriding an Arab. You know the Esquimaux kayak, (if that is the +name of it,) don't you? Look at that model of one over my door. +Sharp, rather?--On the contrary, it is a lubber to the one you and +I must have; a Dutch fish-wife to Psyche, contrasted with what I +will tell you about.--Our boat, then, is something of the shape of +a pickerel, as you look down upon his back, he lying in the +sunshine just where the sharp edge of the water cuts in among the +lily-pads. It is a kind of a giant pod, as one may say,--tight +everywhere, except in a little place in the middle, where you sit. +Its length is from seven to ten yards, and as it is only from +sixteen to thirty inches wide in its widest part, you understand +why you want those "outriggers," or projecting iron frames with the +rowlocks in which the oars play. My rowlocks are five feet apart; +double the greatest width of the boat. + +Here you are, then, afloat with a body a rod and a half long, with +arms, or wings, as you may choose to call them, stretching more +than twenty feet from tip to tip; every volition of yours extending +as perfectly into them as if your spinal cord ran down the centre +strip of your boat, and the nerves of your arms tingled as far as +the broad blades of your oars,--oars of spruce, balanced, +leathered, and ringed under your own special direction. This, in +sober earnest, is the nearest approach to flying that man has ever +made or perhaps ever will make. As the hawk sails without flapping +his pinions, so you drift with the tide when you will, in the most +luxurious form of locomotion indulged to an embodied spirit. But +if your blood wants rousing, turn round that stake in the river, +which you see a mile from here; and when you come in in sixteen +minutes, (if you do, for we are old boys, and not champion +scullers, you remember,) then say if you begin to feel a little +warmed up or not! You can row easily and gently all day, and you +can row yourself blind and black in the face in ten minutes, just +as you like. It has been long agreed that there is no way in which +a man can accomplish so much labor with his muscles as in rowing. +It is in the boat, then, that man finds the largest extension of +his volitional and muscular existence; and yet he may tax both of +them so slightly, in that most delicious of exercises, that he +shall mentally write his sermon, or his poem, or recall the remarks +he has made in company and put them in form for the public, as well +as in his easy-chair. + +I dare not publicly name the rare joys, the infinite delights, that +intoxicate me on some sweet June morning, when the river and bay +are smooth as a sheet of beryl-green silk, and I run along ripping +it up with my knife-edged shell of a boat, the rent closing after +me like those wounds of angels which Milton tells of, but the seam +still shining for many a long rood behind me. To lie still over +the Flats, where the waters are shallow, and see the crabs crawling +and the sculpins gliding busily and silently beneath the boat,--to +rustle in through the long harsh grass that leads up some tranquil +creek,--to take shelter from the sunbeams under one of the +thousand-footed bridges, and look down its interminable colonnades, +crusted with green and oozy growths, studded with minute barnacles, +and belted with rings of dark muscles, while overhead streams and +thunders that other river whose every wave is a human soul flowing +to eternity as the river below flows to the ocean,--lying there +moored unseen, in loneliness so profound that the columns of Tadmor +in the Desert could not seem more remote from life,--the cool +breeze on one's forehead, the stream whispering against the +half-sunken pillars,--why should I tell of these things, that I +should live to see my beloved haunts invaded and the waves blackened +with boats as with a swarm of water-beetles? What a city of idiots +we must be not to have covered this glorious bay with gondolas and +wherries, as we have just learned to cover the ice in winter with +skaters! + +I am satisfied that such a set of black-coated, stiff-jointed, +soft-muscled, paste-complexioned youth as we can boast in our +Atlantic cities never before sprang from loins of Anglo-Saxon +lineage. Of the females that are the mates of these males I do not +here speak. I preached my sermon from the lay-pulpit on this +matter a good while ago. Of course, if you heard it, you know my +belief is that the total climatic influences here are getting up a +number of new patterns of humanity, some of which are not an +improvement on the old model. Clipper-built, sharp in the bows, +long in the spars, slender to look at, and fast to go, the ship, +which is the great organ of our national life of relation, is but a +reproduction of the typical form which the elements impress upon +its builder. All this we cannot help; but we can make the best of +these influences, such as they are. We have a few good boatmen, +--no good horsemen that I hear of,--I cannot speak for cricketing, +--but as for any great athletic feat performed by a gentleman in +these latitudes, society would drop a man who should run round the +Common in five minutes. Some of our amateur fencers, single-stick +players, and boxers, we have no reason to be ashamed of. Boxing is +rough play, but not too rough for a hearty young fellow. Anything +is better than this white-blooded degeneration to which we all +tend. + +I dropped into a gentlemen's sparring exhibition only last evening. +It did my heart good to see that there were a few young and +youngish youths left who could take care of their own heads in case +of emergency. It is a fine sight, that of a gentleman resolving +himself into the primitive constituents of his humanity. Here is a +delicate young man now, with an intellectual countenance, a slight +figure, a sub-pallid complexion, a most unassuming deportment, a +mild adolescent in fact, that any Hiram or Jonathan from between +the ploughtails would of course expect to handle with perfect ease. +Oh, he is taking off his gold-bowed spectacles! Ah, he is +divesting himself of his cravat! Why, he is stripping off his +coat! Well, here he is, sure enough, in a tight silk shirt, and +with two things that look like batter puddings in the place of his +fists. Now see that other fellow with another pair of batter +puddings,--the big one with the broad shoulders; he will certainly +knock the little man's head off, if he strikes him. Feinting, +dodging, stopping, hitting, countering,--little man's head not off +yet. You might as well try to jump upon your own shadow as to hit +the little man's intellectual features. He needn't have taken off +the gold-bowed spectacles at all. Quick, cautious, shifty, nimble, +cool, he catches all the fierce lunges or gets out of their reach, +till his turn comes, and then, whack goes one of the batter +puddings against the big one's ribs, and bang goes the other into +the big one's face, and, staggering, shuffling, slipping, tripping, +collapsing, sprawling, down goes the big one in a miscellaneous +bundle.--If my young friend, whose excellent article I have +referred to, could only introduce the manly art of self-defence +among the clergy, I am satisfied that we should have better sermons +and an infinitely less quarrelsome church-militant. A bout with +the gloves would let off the ill-nature, and cure the indigestion, +which, united, have embroiled their subject in a bitter +controversy. We should then often hear that a point of difference +between an infallible and a heretic, instead of being vehemently +discussed in a series of newspaper articles, had been settled by a +friendly contest in several rounds, at the close of which the +parties shook hands and appeared cordially reconciled. + +But boxing you and I are too old for, I am afraid. I was for a +moment tempted, by the contagion of muscular electricity last +evening, to try the gloves with the Benicia Boy, who looked in as a +friend to the noble art; but remembering that he had twice my +weight and half my age, besides the advantage of his training, I +sat still and said nothing. + +There is one other delicate point I wish to speak of with reference +to old age. I refer to the use of dioptric media which correct the +diminished refracting power of the humors of the eye,--in other +words, spectacles. I don't use them. All I ask is a large, fair +type, a strong daylight or gas-light, and one yard of focal +distance, and my eyes are as good as ever. But if YOUR eyes fail, +I can tell you something encouraging. There is now living in New +York State an old gentleman who, perceiving his sight to fail, +immediately took to exercising it on the finest print, and in this +way fairly bullied Nature out of her foolish habit of taking +liberties at five-and-forty, or thereabout. And now this old +gentleman performs the most extraordinary feats with his pen, +showing that his eyes must be a pair of microscopes. I should be +afraid to say to you how much he writes in the compass of a +half-dime,--whether the Psalms or the Gospels, or the Psalms +AND the Gospels, I won't be positive. + +But now let rue tell you this. If the time comes when you must lay +down the fiddle and the bow, because your fingers are too stiff, +and drop the ten-foot sculls, because your arms are too weak, and, +after dallying awhile with eye-glasses, come at last to the +undisguised reality of spectacles,--if the time comes when that +fire of life we spoke of has burned so low that where its flames +reverberated there is only the sombre stain of regret, and where +its coals glowed, only the white ashes that cover the embers of +memory,--don't let your heart grow cold, and you may carry +cheerfulness and love with you into the teens of your second +century, if you can last so long. As our friend, the Poet, once +said, in some of those old-fashioned heroics of his which he keeps +for his private reading,-- + +Call him not old, whose visionary brain +Holds o'er the past its undivided reign. +For him in vain the envious seasons roll +Who bears eternal summer in his soul. +If yet the minstrel's song, the poet's lay, +Spring with her birds, or children with their play, +Or maiden's smile, or heavenly dream of art +Stir the few life-drops creeping round his heart,-- +Turn to the record where his years are told,-- +Count his gray hairs,--they cannot make him old! + +End of the Professor's paper. + + +[The above essay was not read at one time, but in several +instalments, and accompanied by various comments from different +persons at the table. The company were in the main attentive, with +the exception of a little somnolence on the part of the old +gentleman opposite at times, and a few sly, malicious questions +about the "old boys" on the part of that forward young fellow who +has figured occasionally, not always to his advantage, in these +reports. + +On Sunday mornings, in obedience to a feeling I am not ashamed of, +I have always tried to give a more appropriate character to our +conversation. I have never read them my sermon yet, and I don't +know that I shall, as some of them might take my convictions as a +personal indignity to themselves. But having read our company so +much of the Professor's talk about age and other subjects connected +with physical life, I took the next Sunday morning to repeat to +them the following poem of his, which I have had by me some time. +He calls it--I suppose, for his professional friends--THE +ANATOMIST'S HYMN, but I shall name it--] + + +THE LIVING TEMPLE. + +Not in the world of light alone, +Where God has built his blazing throne, +Nor yet alone in earth below, +With belted seas that come and go, +And endless isles of sunlit green, +Is all thy Maker's glory seen: +Look in upon thy wondrous frame,-- +Eternal wisdom still the same! + +The smooth, soft air with pulse-like waves +Flows murmuring through its hidden caves +Whose streams of brightening purple rush +Fired with a new and livelier blush, +While all their burden of decay +The ebbing current steals away, +And red with Nature's flame they start +From the warm fountains of the heart. + +No rest that throbbing slave may ask, +Forever quivering o'er his task, +While far and wide a crimson jet +Leaps forth to fill the woven net +Which in unnumbered crossing tides +The flood of burning life divides, +Then kindling each decaying part +Creeps back to find the throbbing heart. + +But warmed with that uchanging flame +Behold the outward moving frame, +Its living marbles jointed strong +With glistening band and silvery thong, +And linked to reason's guiding reins +By myriad rings in trembling chains, +Each graven with the threaded zone +Which claims it as the master's own. + +See how yon beam of seeming white +Is braided out of seven-hued light, +Yet in those lucid globes no ray +By any chance shall break astray. +Hark how the rolling surge of sound, +Arches and spirals circling round, +Wakes the hushed spirit through thine ear +With music it is heaven to hear. + +Then mark the cloven sphere that holds +All thought in its mysterious folds, +That feels sensation's faintest thrill +And flashes forth the sovereign will; +Think on the stormy world that dwells +Locked in its dim and clustering cells! +The lightning gleams of power it sheds +Along its hollow glassy threads! + +O Father! grant thy love divine +To make these mystic temples thine! +When wasting age and wearying strife +Have sapped the leaning walls of life, +When darkness gathers over all, +And the last tottering pillars fall, +Take the poor dust thy mercy warms +And mould it into heavenly forms! + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + + +[Spring has come. You will find some verses to that effect at the +end of these notes. If you are an impatient reader, skip to them +at once. In reading aloud, omit, if you please, the sixth and +seventh verses. These are parenthetical and digressive, and, +unless your audience is of superior intelligence, will confuse +them. Many people can ride on horseback who find it hard to get on +and to get off without assistance. One has to dismount from an +idea, and get into the saddle again, at every parenthesis.] + +--The old gentleman who sits opposite, finding that spring had +fairly come, mounted a white hat one day, and walked into the +street. It seems to have been a premature or otherwise +exceptionable exhibition, not unlike that commemorated by the late +Mr. Bayly. When the old gentleman came home, he looked very red in +the face, and complained that he had been "made sport of." By +sympathizing questions, I learned from him that a boy had called +him "old daddy," and asked him when he had his hat whitewashed. + +This incident led me to make some observations at table the next +morning, which I here repeat for the benefit of the readers of this +record. + +--The hat is the vulnerable point of the artificial integument. I +learned this in early boyhood. I was once equipped in a hat of +Leghorn straw, having a brim of much wider dimensions than were +usual at that time, and sent to school in that portion of my native +town which lies nearest to this metropolis. On my way I was met by +a "Port-chuck," as we used to call the young gentlemen of that +locality, and the following dialogue ensued. + +The Port-chuck. Hullo, You-sir, joo know th' wuz gon-to be a race +to-morrah? + +Myself. No. Who's gon-to run, 'n' wher's't gon-to be? + +The Port-chuck. Squire Mico 'n' Doctor Wiliams, round the brim o' +your hat. + +These two much-respected gentlemen being the oldest inhabitants at +that time, and the alleged race-course being out of the question, +the Port-chuck also winking and thrusting his tongue into his +cheek, I perceived that I had been trifled with, and the effect has +been to make me sensitive and observant respecting this article of +dress ever since. Here is an axiom or two relating to it. + +A hat which has been POPPED, or exploded by being sat down upon, is +never itself again afterwards. + +It is a favorite illusion of sanguine natures to believe the +contrary. + +Shabby gentility has nothing so characteristic as its hat. There +is always an unnatural calmness about its nap, and an unwholesome +gloss, suggestive of a wet brush. + +The last effort of decayed fortune is expended in smoothing its +dilapidated castor. The hat is the ULTIMUM MORIENS of +"respectability." + +--The old gentleman took all these remarks and maxims very +pleasantly, saying, however, that he had forgotten most of his +French except the word for potatoes,--pummies de tare.---Ultimum +moriens, I told him, is old Italian, and signifies LAST THING TO +DIE. With this explanation he was well contented, and looked quite +calm when I saw him afterwards in the entry with a black hat on his +head and the white one in his hand. + + +--I think myself fortunate in having the Poet and the Professor for +my intimates. We are so much together, that we no doubt think and +talk a good deal alike; yet our points of view are in many respects +individual and peculiar. You know me well enough by this time. I +have not talked with you so long for nothing and therefore I don't +think it necessary to draw my own portrait. But let me say a word +or two about my friends. + +The Professor considers himself, and I consider him, a very useful +and worthy kind of drudge. I think he has a pride in his small +technicalities. I know that he has a great idea of fidelity; and +though I suspect he laughs a little inwardly at times at the grand +airs "Science" puts on, as she stands marking time, but not getting +on, while the trumpets are blowing and the big drums beating,--yet +I am sure he has a liking for his specially, and a respect for its +cultivators. + +But I'll tell you what the Professor said to the Poet the other +day.--My boy, said he, I can work a great deal cheaper than you, +because I keep all my goods in the lower story. You have to hoist +yours into the upper chambers of the brain, and let them down again +to your customers. I take mine in at the level of the ground, and +send them off from my doorstep almost without lifting. I tell you, +the higher a man has to carry the raw material of thought before he +works it up, the more it costs him in blood, nerve, and muscle. +Coleridge knew all this very well when he advised every literary +man to have a profession. + +--Sometimes I like to talk with one of them, and sometimes with the +other. After a while I get tired of both. When a fit of +intellectual disgust comes over me, I will tell you what I have +found admirable as a diversion, in addition to boating and other +amusements which I have spoken of,--that is, working at my +carpenter's-bench. Some mechanical employment is the greatest +possible relief, after the purely intellectual faculties begin to +tire. When I was quarantined once at Marseilles, I got to work +immediately at carving a wooden wonder of loose rings on a stick, +and got so interested in it, that when we were set loose, I +"regained my freedom with a sigh," because my toy was unfinished. + +There are long seasons when I talk only with the Professor, and +others when I give myself wholly up to the Poet. Now that my +winter's work is over and spring is with us, I feel naturally drawn +to the Poet's company. I don't know anybody more alive to life +than he is. The passion of poetry seizes on him every spring, he +says,--yet oftentimes he complains, that, when he feels most, he +can sing least. + +Then a fit of despondency comes over him.--I feel ashamed, +sometimes,--said he, the other day,--to think how far my worst +songs fall below my best. It sometimes seems to me, as I know it +does to others who have told me so, that they ought to be ALL +BEST,--if not in actual execution, at least in plan and motive. I +am grateful--he continued--for all such criticisms. A man is +always pleased to have his most serious efforts praised, and the +highest aspect of his nature get the most sunshine. + +Yet I am sure, that, in the nature of things, many minds must +change their key now and then, on penalty of getting out of tune or +losing their voices. You know, I suppose,--he said,--what is meant +by complementary colors? You know the effect, too, which the +prolonged impression of any one color has on the retina. If you +close your eyes after looking steadily at a RED object, you see a +GREEN image. + +It is so with many minds,--I will not say with all. After looking +at one aspect of external nature, or of any form of beauty or +truth, when they turn away, the COMPLEMENTARY aspect of the same +object stamps itself irresistibly and automatically upon the mind. +Shall they give expression to this secondary mental state, or not? + +When I contemplate--said my friend, the Poet--the infinite +largeness of comprehension belonging to the Central Intelligence, +how remote the creative conception is from all scholastic and +ethical formulae, I am led to think that a healthy mind ought to +change its mood from time to time, and come down from its noblest +condition,--never, of course, to degrade itself by dwelling upon +what is itself debasing, but to let its lower faculties have a +chance to air and exercise themselves. After the first and second +floor have been out in the bright street dressed in all their +splendors, shall not our humble friends in the basement have their +holiday, and the cotton velvet and the thin-skinned jewelry--simple +adornments, but befitting the station of those who wear them--show +themselves to the crowd, who think them beautiful, as they ought +to, though the people up stairs know that they are cheap and +perishable? + +--I don't know that I may not bring the Poet here, some day or +other, and let him speak for himself. Still I think I can tell you +what he says quite as well as he could do it.--Oh,--he said to me, +one day,--I am but a hand-organ man,--say rather, a hand-organ. +Life turns the winch, and fancy or accident pulls out the stops. I +come under your windows, some fine spring morning, and play you one +of my adagio movements, and some of you say,--This is good,--play +us so always. But, dear friends, if I did not change the stop +sometimes, the machine would wear out in one part and rust in +another. How easily this or that tune flows!--you say,--there must +be no end of just such melodies in him.--I will open the poor +machine for you one moment, and you shall look.--Ah! Every note +marks where a spur of steel has been driven in. It is easy to +grind out the song, but to plant these bristling points which make +it was the painful task of time. + +I don't like to say it,--he continued,--but poets commonly have no +larger stock of tunes than hand-organs; and when you hear them +piping up under your window, you know pretty well what to expect. +The more stops, the better. Do let them all be pulled out in their +turn! + +So spoke my friend, the Poet, and read me one of his stateliest +songs, and after it a gay chanson, and then a string of epigrams. +All true,--he said,--all flowers of his soul; only one with the +corolla spread, and another with its disk half opened, and the +third with the heart-leaves covered up and only a petal or two +showing its tip through the calyx. The water-lily is the type of +the poet's soul,--he told me. + +--What do you think, Sir,--said the divinity-student,--opens the +souls of poets most fully? + +Why, there must be the internal force and the external stimulus. +Neither is enough by itself. A rose will not flower in the dark, +and a fern will not flower anywhere. + +What do I think is the true sunshine that opens the poet's +corolla?--I don't like to say. They spoil a good many, I am +afraid; or at least they shine on a good many that never come to +anything. + +Who are THEY?--said the schoolmistress. + +Women. Their love first inspires the poet, and their praise is his +best reward. + +The schoolmistress reddened a little, but looked pleased.--Did I +really think so?--I do think so; I never feel safe until I have +pleased them; I don't think they are the first to see one's +defects, but they are the first to catch the color and fragrance of +a true poem. Fit the same intellect to a man and it is a +bow-string,--to a woman and it is a harp-string. She is vibratile and +resonant all over, so she stirs with slighter musical tremblings of +the air about her.--Ah, me!--said my friend, the Poet, to me, the +other day,--what color would it not have given to my thoughts, and +what thrice-washed whiteness to my words, had I been fed on women's +praises! I should have grown like Marvell's fawn,-- + +"Lilies without; roses within!" + +But then,--he added,--we all think, IF so and so, we should have +been this or that, as you were saying the other day, in those +rhymes of yours. + +--I don't think there are many poets in the sense of creators; but +of those sensitive natures which reflect themselves naturally in +soft and melodious words, pleading for sympathy with their joys and +sorrows, every literature is full. Nature carves with her own +hands the brain which holds the creative imagination, but she casts +the over-sensitive creatures in scores from the same mould. + +There are two kinds of poets, just as there are two kinds of +blondes. [Movement of curiosity among our ladies at table.--Please +to tell us about those blondes, said the schoolmistress.] Why, +there are blondes who are such simply by deficiency of coloring +matter,--NEGATIVE or WASHED blondes, arrested by Nature on the way +to become albinesses. There are others that are shot through with +golden light, with tawny or fulvous tinges in various degree, +--POSITIVE or STAINED blondes, dipped in yellow sunbeams, and as +unlike in their mode of being to the others as an orange is unlike +a snowball. The albino-style carries with it a wide pupil and a +sensitive retina. The other, or the leonine blonde, has an opaline +fire in her clear eye, which the brunette can hardly match with her +quick glittering glances. + +Just so we have the great sun-kindled, constructive imaginations, +and a far more numerous class of poets who have a certain kind of +moonlight-genius given them to compensate for their imperfection of +nature. Their want of mental coloring-matter makes them sensitive +to those impressions which stronger minds neglect or never feel at +all. Many of them die young, and all of them are tinged with +melancholy. There is no more beautiful illustration of the +principle of compensation which marks the Divine benevolence than +the fact that some of the holiest lives and some of the sweetest +songs are the growth of the infirmity which unfits its subject for +the rougher duties of life. When one reads the life of Cowper, or +of Keats, or of Lucretia and Margaret Davidson,--of so many gentle, +sweet natures, born to weakness, and mostly dying before their +time,--one cannot help thinking that the human race dies out +singing, like the swan in the old story. The French poet, Gilbert, +who died at the Hotel Dieu, at the age of twenty-nine,--(killed by +a key in his throat, which he had swallowed when delirious in +consequence of a fall,)--this poor fellow was a very good example +of the poet by excess of sensibility. I found, the other day, that +some of my literary friends had never heard of him, though I +suppose few educated Frenchmen do not know the lines which he +wrote, a week before his death, upon a mean bed in the great +hospital of Paris. + + +"Au banquet de la vie, infortune convive, +J'apparus un jour, et je meurs; +Je meurs, et sur ma tombe, ou lentement j'arrive, +Nul ne viendra verser des pleurs." + +At life's gay banquet placed, a poor unhappy guest, +One day I pass, then disappear; +I die, and on the tomb where I at length shall rest +No friend shall come to shed a tear. + + +You remember the same thing in other words some where in Kirke +White's poems. It is the burden of the plaintive songs of all +these sweet albino-poets. "I shall die and be forgotten, and the +world will go on just as if I had never been;--and yet how I have +loved! how I have longed! how I have aspired!" And so singing, +their eyes grow brighter and brighter, and their features thinner +and thinner, until at last the veil of flesh is threadbare, and, +still singing, they drop it and pass onward. + + +--Our brains are seventy-year clocks. The Angel of Life winds them +up once for all, then closes the case, and gives the key into the +hand of the Angel of the Resurrection. + +Tic-tac! tic-tac! go the wheels of thought; our will cannot stop +them; they cannot stop themselves, sleep cannot still them; madness +only makes them go faster; death alone can break into the case, +and, seizing the ever-swinging pendulum, which we call the heart, +silence at last the clicking of the terrible escapement we have +carried so long beneath our wrinkled foreheads. + +If we could only get at them, as we lie on our pillows and count +the dead beats of thought after thought and image after image +jarring through the overtired organ! Will nobody block those +wheels, uncouple that pinion, cut the string that holds those +weights, blow up the infernal machine with gunpowder? What a +passion comes over us sometimes for silence and rest!--that this +dreadful mechanism, unwinding the endless tapestry of time, +embroidered with spectral figures of life and death, could have but +one brief holiday! Who can wonder that men swing themselves off +from beams in hempen lassos?--that they jump off from parapets into +the swift and gurgling waters beneath?--that they take counsel of +the grim friend who has but to utter his one peremptory +monosyllable and the restless machine is shivered as a vase that is +dashed upon a marble floor? Under that building which we pass +every day there are strong dungeons, where neither hook, nor bar, +nor bed-cord, nor drinking-vessel from which a sharp fragment may +be shattered, shall by any chance be seen. There is nothing for +it, when the brain is on fire with the whirling of its wheels, but +to spring against the stone wall and silence them with one crash. +Ah, they remembered that,--the kind city fathers,--and the walls +are nicely padded, so that one can take such exercise as he likes +without damaging himself on the very plain and serviceable +upholstery. If anybody would only contrive some kind of a lever +that one could thrust in among the works of this horrid automaton +and check them, or alter their rate of going, what would the world +give for the discovery? + +--From half a dime to a dime, according to the style of the place +and the quality of the liquor,--said the young fellow whom they +call John. + +You speak trivially, but not unwisely,--I said. Unless the will +maintain a certain control over these movements, which it cannot +stop, but can to some extent regulate, men are very apt to try to +get at the machine by some indirect system of leverage or other. +They clap on the brakes by means of opium; they change the +maddening monotony of the rhythm by means of fermented liquors. It +is because the brain is locked up and we cannot touch its movement +directly, that we thrust these coarse tools in through any crevice, +by which they may reach the interior, and so alter its rate of +going for a while, and at last spoil the machine. + +Men who exercise chiefly those faculties of the mind which work +independently of the will,--poets and artists, for instance, who +follow their imagination in their creative moments, instead of +keeping it in hand as your logicians and practical men do with +their reasoning faculty,--such men are too apt to call in the +mechanical appliances to help them govern their intellects. + +--He means they get drunk,--said the young fellow already alluded +to by name. + +Do you think men of true genius are apt to indulge in the use of +inebriating fluids? said the divinity-student. + +If you think you are strong enough to bear what I am going to say, +--I replied,--I will talk to you about this. But mind, now, these +are the things that some foolish people call DANGEROUS subjects, +--as if these vices which burrow into people's souls, as the +Guinea-worm burrows into the naked feet of West-Indian slaves, would +be more mischievous when seen than out of sight. Now the true way to +deal with those obstinate animals, which are a dozen feet long, some +of them, and no bigger than a horse hair, is to get a piece of silk +round their HEADS, and pull them out very cautiously. If you only +break them off, they grow worse than ever, and sometimes kill the +person who has the misfortune to harbor one of them. Whence it is +plain that the first thing to do is to find out where the head lies. + +Just so of all the vices, and particularly of this vice of +intemperance. What is the head of it, and where does it lie? For +you may depend upon it, there is not one of these vices that has +not a head of its own,--an intelligence,--a meaning,--a certain +virtue, I was going to say,--but that might, perhaps, sound +paradoxical. I have heard an immense number of moral physicians +lay down the treatment of moral Guinea-worms, and the vast majority +of them would always insist that the creature had no head at all, +but was all body and tail. So I have found a very common result of +their method to be that the string slipped, or that a piece only of +the creature was broken off, and the worm soon grew again, as bad +as ever. The truth is, if the Devil could only appear in church by +attorney, and make the best statement that the facts would bear him +out in doing on behalf of his special virtues, (what we commonly +call vices,) the influence of good teachers would be much greater +than it is. For the arguments by which the Devil prevails are +precisely the ones that the Devil-queller most rarely answers. The +way to argue down a vice is not to tell lies about it,--to say that +it has no attractions, when everybody knows that it has,--but +rather to let it make out its case just as it certainly will in the +moment of temptation, and then meet it with the weapons furnished +by the Divine armory. Ithuriel did not spit the toad on his spear, +you remember, but touched him with it, and the blasted angel took +the sad glories of his true shape. If he had shown fight then, the +fair spirits would have known how to deal with him. + +That all spasmodic cerebral action is an evil is not perfectly +clear. Men get fairly intoxicated with music, with poetry, with +religious excitement, oftenest with love. Ninon de l'Enclos said +she was so easily excited that her soup intoxicated her, and +convalescents have been made tipsy by a beef-steak. + +There are forms and stages of alcoholic exaltation which, in +themselves, and without regard to their consequences, might be +considered as positive improvements of the persons affected. When +the sluggish intellect is roused, the slow speech quickened, the +cold nature warmed, the latent sympathy developed, the flagging +spirit kindled,--before the trains of thought become confused or +the will perverted, or the muscles relaxed,--just at the moment +when the whole human zoophyte flowers out like a full-blown rose, +and is ripe for the subscription-paper or the contribution-box,--it +would be hard to say that a man was, at that very time, worse, or +less to be loved, than when driving a hard bargain with all his +meaner wits about him. The difficulty is, that the alcoholic +virtues don't wash; but until the water takes their colors out, the +tints are very much like those of the true celestial stuff. + +[Here I was interrupted by a question which I am very unwilling to +report, but have confidence enough in those friends who examine +these records to commit to their candor. + +A PERSON at table asked me whether I "went in for rum as a steady +drink?"--His manner made the question highly offensive, but I +restrained myself, and answered thus:-] + +Rum I take to be the name which unwashed moralists apply alike to +the product distilled from molasses and the noblest juices of the +vineyard. Burgundy "in all its sunset glow" is rum. Champagne, +"the foaming wine of Eastern France," in rum. Hock, which our +friend, the Poet, speaks of as + + +"The Rhine's breastmilk, gushing cold and bright, +Pale as the moon, and maddening as her light," + + +is rum. Sir, I repudiate the loathsome vulgarism as an insult to +the first miracle wrought by the Founder of our religion! I +address myself to the company.--I believe in temperance, nay, +almost in abstinence, as a rule for healthy people. I trust that I +practice both. But let me tell you, there are companies of men of +genius into which I sometimes go, where the atmosphere of intellect +and sentiment is so much more stimulating than alcohol, that, if I +thought fit to take wine, it would be to keep me sober. + +Among the gentlemen that I have known, few, if any, were ruined by +drinking. My few drunken acquaintances were generally ruined +before they became drunkards. The habit of drinking is often a +vice, no doubt,--sometimes a misfortune,--as when an almost +irresistible hereditary propensity exists to indulge in it,--but +oftenest of all a PUNISHMENT. + +Empty heads,--heads without ideas in wholesome variety and +sufficient number to furnish food for the mental clockwork, +--ill-regulated heads, where the faculties are not under the control +of the will,--these are the ones that hold the brains which their +owners are so apt to tamper with, by introducing the appliances we +have been talking about. Now, when a gentleman's brain is empty or +ill-regulated, it is, to a great extent, his own fault; and so it +is simple retribution, that, while he lies slothfully sleeping or +aimlessly dreaming, the fatal habit settles on him like a vampyre, +and sucks his blood, fanning him all the while with its hot wings +into deeper slumber or idler dreams! I am not such a hard-souled +being as to apply this to the neglected poor, who have had no +chance to fill their heads with wholesome ideas, and to be taught +the lesson of self-government. I trust the tariff of Heaven has an +ad valorem scale for them--and all of us. + +But to come back to poets and artists;--if they really are more +prone to the abuse of stimulants,--and I fear that this is true, +--the reason of it is only too clear. A man abandons himself to a +fine frenzy, and the power which flows through him, as I once +explained to you, makes him the medium of a great poem or a great +picture. The creative action is not voluntary at all, but +automatic; we can only put the mind into the proper attitude, and +wait for the wind, that blows where it listeth, to breathe over it. +Thus the true state of creative genius is allied to reverie, or +dreaming. If mind and body were both healthy and had food enough +and fair play, I doubt whether any men would be more temperate than +the imaginative classes. But body and mind often flag,--perhaps +they are ill-made to begin with, underfed with bread or ideas, +overworked, or abused in some way. The automatic action, by which +genius wrought its wonders, fails. There is only one thing which +can rouse the machine; not will,--that cannot reach it; nothing but +a ruinous agent, which hurries the wheels awhile and soon eats out +the heart of the mechanism. The dreaming faculties are always the +dangerous ones, because their mode of action can be imitated by +artificial excitement; the reasoning ones are safe, because they +imply continued voluntary effort. + +I think you will find it true, that, before any vice can fasten on +a man, body, mind, or moral nature must be debilitated. The mosses +and fungi gather on sickly trees, not thriving ones; and the odious +parasites which fasten on the human frame choose that which is +already enfeebled. Mr. Walker, the hygeian humorist, declared that +he had such a healthy skin it was impossible for any impurity to +stick to it, and maintained that it was an absurdity to wash a face +which was of necessity always clean. I don't know how much fancy +there was in this; but there is no fancy in saying that the +lassitude of tired-out operatives, and the languor of imaginative +natures in their periods of collapse, and the vacuity of minds +untrained to labor and discipline, fit the soul and body for the +germination of the seeds of intemperance. + +Whenever the wandering demon of Drunkenness finds a ship adrift, +--no steady wind in its sails, no thoughtful pilot directing its +course,--he steps on board, takes the helm, and steers straight for +the maelstrom. + + +--I wonder if you know the TERRIBLE SMILE? [The young fellow whom +they call John winked very hard, and made a jocular remark, the +sense of which seemed to depend on some double meaning of the word +SMILE. The company was curious to know what I meant.] + +There are persons--I said--who no sooner come within sight of you +than they begin to smile, with an uncertain movement of the mouth, +which conveys the idea that they are thinking about themselves, and +thinking, too, that you are thinking they are thinking about +themselves,--and so look at you with a wretched mixture of +self-consciousness, awkwardness, and attempts to carry off both, +which are betrayed by the cowardly behaviour of the eye and the +tell-tale weakness of the lips that characterize these unfortunate +beings. + +--Why do you call them unfortunate, Sir?--asked the divinity- +student. + +Because it is evident that the consciousness of some imbecility or +other is at the bottom of this extraordinary expression. I don't +think, however, that these persons are commonly fools. I have +known a number, and all of them were intelligent. I think nothing +conveys the idea of UNDERBREEDING more than this self-betraying +smile. Yet I think this peculiar habit as well as that of +MEANINGLESS BLUSHING may be fallen into by very good people who met +often, or sit opposite each other at table. A true gentleman's +face is infinitely removed from all such paltriness,--calm-eyed, +firm-mouthed. I think Titian understood the look of a gentleman as +well as anybody that ever lived. The portrait of a young man +holding a glove in his hand, in the Gallery of the Louvre, if any +of you have seen that collection, will remind you of what I mean. + +--Do I think these people know the peculiar look they have?--I +cannot say; I hope not; I am afraid they would never forgive me, if +they did. The worst of it is, the trick is catching; when one +meets one of these fellows, he feels a tendency to the same +manifestation. The Professor tells me there is a muscular slip, a +dependence of the platysma myoides, which is called the risorius +Santorini. + +--Say that once more,--exclaimed the young fellow mentioned above. + +The Professor says there is a little fleshy slip called Santorini's +laughing muscle. I would have it cut out of my face, if I were +born with one of those constitutional grins upon it. Perhaps I am +uncharitable in my judgment of those sour-looking people I told you +of the other day, and of these smiling folks. It may be that they +are born with these looks, as other people are with more generally +recognized deformities. Both are bad enough, but I had rather meet +three of the scowlers than one of the smilers. + +--There is another unfortunate way of looking, which is peculiar to +that amiable sex we do not like to find fault with. There are some +very pretty, but, unhappily, very ill-bred women, who don't +understand the law of the road with regard to handsome faces. +Nature and custom would, no doubt, agree in conceding to all males +the right of at least two distinct looks at every comely female +countenance, without any infraction of the rules of courtesy or the +sentiment of respect. The first look is necessary to define the +person of the individual one meets so as to avoid it in passing. +Any unusual attraction detected in a first glance is a sufficient +apology for a second,--not a prolonged and impertinent stare, but +an appreciating homage of the eyes, such as a stranger may +inoffensively yield to a passing image. It is astonishing how +morbidly sensitive some vulgar beauties are to the slightest +demonstration of this kind. When a lady walks the streets, she +leaves her virtuous-indignation countenance at home; she knows well +enough that the street is a picture-gallery, where pretty faces +framed in pretty bonnets are meant to be seen, and everybody has a +right to see them. + +--When we observe how the same features and style of person and +character descend from generation to generation, we can believe +that some inherited weakness may account for these peculiarities. +Little snapping-turtles snap--so the great naturalist tells us +--before they are out of the egg-shell. I am satisfied, that, much +higher up in the scale of life, character is distinctly shown at +the age of--2 or--3 months. + +--My friend, the Professor, has been full of eggs lately. [This +remark excited a burst of hilarity which I did not allow to +interrupt the course of my observations.] He has been reading the +great book where he found the fact about the little snapping- +turtles mentioned above. Some of the things he has told me have +suggested several odd analogies enough. + +There are half a dozen men, or so, who carry in their brains the +OVARIAN EGGS of the next generation's or century's civilization. +These eggs are not ready to be laid in the form of books as yet; +some of them are hardly ready to be put into the form of talk. But +as rudimentary ideas or inchoate tendencies, there they are; and +these are what must form the future. A man's general notions are +not good for much, unless he has a crop of these intellectual +ovarian eggs in his own brain, or knows them as they exist in the +minds of others. One must be in the HABIT of talking with such +persons to get at these rudimentary germs of thought; for their +development is necessarily imperfect, and they are moulded on new +patterns, which must be long and closely studied. But these are +the men to talk with. No fresh truth ever gets into a book. + +--A good many fresh lies get in, anyhow,--said one of the company. + +I proceeded in spite of the interruption.--All uttered thought, my +friend, the Professor, says, is of the nature of an excretion. Its +materials have been taken in, and have acted upon the system, and +been reacted on by it; it has circulated and done its office in one +mind before it is given out for the benefit of others. It may be +milk or venom to other minds; but, in either case, it is something +which the producer has had the use of and can part with. A man +instinctively tries to get rid of his thought in conversation or in +print so soon as it is matured; but it is hard to get at it as it +lies imbedded, a mere potentiality, the germ of a germ, in his +intellect. + +--Where are the brains that are fullest of these ovarian eggs of +thought?--I decline mentioning individuals. The producers of +thought, who are few, the "jobbers" of thought, who are many, and +the retailers of thought, who are numberless, are so mixed up in +the popular apprehension, that it would be hopeless to try to +separate them before opinion has had time to settle. Follow the +course of opinion on the great subjects of human interest for a few +generations or centuries, get its parallax, map out a small arc of +its movement, see where it tends, and then see who is in advance of +it or even with it; the world calls him hard names, probably; but +if you would find the ova of the future, you must look into the +folds of his cerebral convolutions. + +[The divinity-student looked a little puzzled at this suggestion, +as if he did not see exactly where he was to come out, if he +computed his arc too nicely. I think it possible it might cut off +a few corners of his present belief, as it has cut off martyr- +burning and witch-hanging;--but time will show,--time will show, as +the old gentleman opposite says.] + +--Oh,--here is that copy of verses I told you about. + + +SPRING HAS COME. + +Intra Muros. + +The sunbeams, lost for half a year, +Slant through my pane their morning rays +For dry Northwesters cold and clear, +The East blows in its thin blue haze. + +And first the snowdrop's bells are seen, +Then close against the sheltering wall +The tulip's horn of dusky green, +The peony's dark unfolding ball. + +The golden-chaliced crocus burns; +The long narcissus-blades appear; +The cone-beaked hyacinth returns, +And lights her blue-flamed chandelier. + +The willow's whistling lashes, wrung +By the wild winds of gusty March, +With sallow leaflets lightly strung, +Are swaying by the tufted larch. + +The elms have robed their slender spray +With full-blown flower and embryo leaf; +Wide o'er the clasping arch of day +Soars like a cloud their hoary chief. + +--[See the proud tulip's flaunting cup, +That flames in glory for an hour,-- +Behold it withering,--then look up,-- +How meek the forest-monarch's flower!-- + +When wake the violets, Winter dies; +When sprout the elm-buds, Spring is near; +When lilacs blossom, Summer cries, +"Bud, little roses! Spring is here!"] + +The windows blush with fresh bouquets, +Cut with the May-dew on their lips; +The radish all its bloom displays, +Pink as Aurora's finger-tips. + +Nor less the flood of light that showers +On beauty's changed corolla-shades,-- +The walks are gay as bridal bowers +With rows of many-petalled maids. + +The scarlet shell-fish click and clash +In the blue barrow where they slide; +The horseman, proud of streak and splash, +Creeps homeward from his morning ride. + +Here comes the dealer's awkward string, +With neck in rope and tail in knot,-- +Rough colts, with careless country-swing, +In lazy walk or slouching trot. + +--Wild filly from the mountain-side, +Doomed to the close and chafing thills, +Lend me thy long, untiring stride +To seek with thee thy western hills! + +I hear the whispering voice of Spring, +The thrush's trill, the cat-bird's cry, +Like some poor bird with prisoned wing +That sits and sings, but longs to fly. + +Oh for one spot of living green,-- +One little spot where leaves can grow,-- +To love unblamed, to walk unseen, +To dream above, to sleep below! + + + +CHAPTER IX + + + +[Aqui esta encerrada el alma del licenciado Pedro Garcias. + +If I should ever make a little book out of these papers, which I +hope you are not getting tired of, I suppose I ought to save the +above sentence for a motto on the title-page. But I want it now, +and must use it. I need not say to you that the words are Spanish, +nor that they are to be found in the short Introduction to "Gil +Blas," nor that they mean, "Here lies buried the soul of the +licentiate Pedro Garcias." + +I warned all young people off the premises when I began my notes +referring to old age. I must be equally fair with old people now. +They are earnestly requested to leave this paper to young persons +from the age of twelve to that of fourscore years and ten, at which +latter period of life I am sure that I shall have at least one +youthful reader. You know well enough what I mean by youth and +age;--something in the soul, which has no more to do with the color +of the hair than the vein of gold in a rock has to do with the +grass a thousand feet above it. + +I am growing bolder as I write. I think it requires not only +youth, but genius, to read this paper. I don't mean to imply that +it required any whatsoever to talk what I have here written down. +It did demand a certain amount of memory, and such command of the +English tongue as is given by a common school education. So much I +do claim. But here I have related, at length, a string of +trivialities. You must have the imagination of a poet to +transfigure them. These little colored patches are stains upon the +windows of a human soul; stand on the outside, they are but dull +and meaningless spots of color; seen from within, they are +glorified shapes with empurpled wings and sunbright aureoles. + +My hand trembles when I offer you this. Many times I have come +bearing flowers such as my garden grew; but now I offer you this +poor, brown, homely growth, you may cast it away as worthless. +And yet--and yet--it is something better than flowers; it is a +SEED-CAPSULE. Many a gardener will cut you a bouquet of his choicest +blossoms for small fee, but he does not love to let the seeds of +his rarest varieties go out of his own hands. + +It is by little things that we know ourselves; a soul would very +probably mistake itself for another, when once disembodied, were it +not for individual experiences which differ from those of others +only in details seemingly trifling. All of us have been thirsty +thousands of times, and felt, with Pindar, that water was the best +of things. I alone, as I think, of all mankind, remember one +particular pailful of water, flavored with the white-pine of which +the pail was made, and the brown mug out of which one Edmund, a +red-faced and curly-haired boy, was averred to have bitten a +fragment in his haste to drink; it being then high summer, and +little full-blooded boys feeling very warm and porous in the +low-"studded" school-room where Dame Prentiss, dead and gone, ruled +over young children, many of whom are old ghosts now, and have +known Abraham for twenty or thirty years of our mortal time. + +Thirst belongs to humanity, everywhere, in all ages; but that +white-pine pail, and that brown mug belong to me in particular; and +just so of my special relationships with other things and with my +rice. One could never remember himself in eternity by the mere +fact of having loved or hated any more than by that of having +thirsted; love and hate have no more individuality in them than +single waves in the ocean;--but the accidents or trivial marks +which distinguished those whom we loved or hated make their memory +our own forever, and with it that of our own personality also. + +Therefore, my aged friend of five-and-twenty, or thereabouts, pause +at the threshold of this particular record, and ask yourself +seriously whether you are fit to read such revelations as are to +follow. For observe, you have here no splendid array of petals +such as poets offer you,--nothing but a dry shell, containing, if +you will get out what is in it, a few small seeds of poems. You +may laugh at them, if you like. I shall never tell you what I +think of you for so doing. But if you can read into the heart of +these things, in the light of other memories as slight, yet as dear +to your soul, then you are neither more nor less than a POET, and +can afford to write no more verses during the rest of your natural +life,--which abstinence I take to be one of the surest marks of +your meriting the divine name I have just bestowed upon you. + +May I beg of you who have begun this paper nobly trusting to your +own imagination and sensibilities to give it the significance which +it does not lay claim to without your kind assistance,--may I beg +of you, I say, to pay particular attention to the BRACKETS which +enclose certain paragraphs? I want my "asides," you see, to +whisper loud to you who read my notes, and sometimes I talk a page +or two to you without pretending that I said a word of it to our +boarders. You will find a very long "aside" to you almost as soon +as you begin to read. And so, dear young friend, fall to at once, +taking such things as I have provided for you; and if you turn +them, by the aid of your powerful imagination, into a fair banquet, +why, then, peace be with you, and a summer by the still waters of +some quiet river, or by some yellow beach, where, as my friend the +Professor, says, you can sit with Nature's wrist in your hand and +count her ocean-pulses.] + +I should like to make a few intimate revelations relating +especially to my early life, if I thought you would like to hear +them. + +[The schoolmistress turned a little in her chair, and sat with her +face directed partly towards me.--Half-mourning now;--purple +ribbon. That breastpin she wears has GRAY hair in it; her +mother's, no doubt;--I remember our landlady's daughter telling me, +soon after the schoolmistress came to board with us, that she had +lately "buried a payrent." That's what made her look so pale, +--kept the poor dying thing alive with her own blood. Ah! long +illness is the real vampyrism; think of living a year or two after +one is dead, by sucking the life-blood out of a frail young +creature at one's bedside! Well, souls grow white, as well as +cheeks, in these holy duties one that goes in a nurse may come out +an angel.--God bless all good women!--to their soft hands and +pitying hearts we must all come at last!--The schoolmistress has a +better color than when she came.--Too late! "It might have been." +--Amen!--How many thoughts go to a dozen heart-beats, sometimes! +There was no long pause after my remark addressed to the company, +but in that time I had the train of ideas and feelings I have just +given flash through my consciousness sudden and sharp as the +crooked red streak that springs out of its black sheath like the +creese of a Malay in his death-race, and stabs the earth right and +left in its blind rage. + +I don't deny that there was a pang in it,--yes, a stab; but there +was a prayer, too,--the "Amen" belonged to that.--Also, a vision of +a four-story brick house, nicely furnished,--I actually saw many +specific articles,--curtains, sofas, tables, and others, and could +draw the patterns of them at this moment,--a brick house, I say, +looking out on the water, with a fair parlor, and books and busts +and pots of flowers and bird-cages, all complete; and at the +window, looking on the water, two of us.--"Male and female created +He them."--These two were standing at the window, when a smaller +shape that was playing near them looked up at me with such a look +that I----poured out a glass of water, drank it all down, and then +continued.] + +I said I should like to tell you some things, such as people +commonly never tell, about my early recollections. Should you like +to hear them? + +Should we LIKE to hear them?--said the schoolmistress;--no, but we +should love to. + +[The voice was a sweet one, naturally, and had something very +pleasant in its tone, just then.--The four-story brick house, which +had gone out like a transparency when the light behind it is +quenched, glimmered again for a moment; parlor, books, busts, +flower-pots, bird-cages, all complete,--and the figures as before.] + +We are waiting with eagerness, Sir,--said the divinity-student. + +[The transparency went out as if a flash of black lightning had +struck it.] + +If you want to hear my confessions, the next thing--I said--is to +know whether I can trust you with them. It is only fair to say +that there are a great many people in the world that laugh at such +things. _I_ think they are fools, but perhaps you don't all agree +with me. + +Here are children of tender age talked to as if they were capable +of understanding Calvin's "Institutes," and nobody has honesty or +sense enough to tell the plain truth about the little wretches: +that they are as superstitious as naked savages, and such miserable +spiritual cowards--that is, if they have any imagination--that they +will believe anything which is taught them, and a great deal more +which they teach themselves. + +I was born and bred, as I have told you twenty times, among books +and those who knew what was in books. I was carefully instructed +in things temporal and spiritual. But up to a considerable +maturity of childhood I believed Raphael and Michael Angelo to have +been superhuman beings. The central doctrine of the prevalent +religious faith of Christendom was utterly confused and neutralized +in my mind for years by one of those too common stories of actual +life, which I overheard repeated in a whisper.--Why did I not ask? +you will say.--You don't remember the rosy pudency of sensitive +children. The first instinctive movement of the little creatures +is to make a cache, and bury in it beliefs, doubts, dreams, hopes, +and terrors. I am uncovering one of these CACHES. Do you think I +was necessarily a greater fool and coward than another? + +I was afraid of ships. Why, I could never tell. The masts looked +frightfully tall,--but they were not so tall as the steeple of our +old yellow meeting-house. At any rate I used to hide my eyes from +the sloops and schooners that were wont to lie at the end of the +bridge, and I confess that traces of this undefined terror lasted +very long.--One other source of alarm had a still more fearful +significance. There was a great wooden HAND,--a glove-maker's +sign, which used to swing and creak in the blast, as it hung from a +pillar before a certain shop a mile or two outside of the city. +Oh, the dreadful hand! Always hanging there ready to catch up a +little boy, who would come home to supper no more, nor yet to bed, +--whose porringer would be laid away empty thenceforth, and his +half-worn shoes wait until his small brother grew to fit them. + +As for all manner of superstitious observances, I used once to +think I must have been peculiar in having such a list of them, but +I now believe that half the children of the same age go through the +same experiences. No Roman soothsayer ever had such a catalogue of +OMENS as I found in the Sibylline leaves of my childhood. That +trick of throwing a stone at a tree and attaching some mighty issue +to hitting or missing, which you will find mentioned in one or more +biographies, I well remember. Stepping on or over certain +particular things or spots--Dr. Johnson's especial weakness I got +the habit of at a very early age.--I won't swear that I have not +some tendency to these not wise practices even at this present +date. [How many of you that read these notes can say the same +thing!] + +With these follies mingled sweet delusions, which I loved so well I +would not outgrow them, even when it required a voluntary effort to +put a momentary trust in them. Here is one which I cannot help +telling you. + +The firing of the great guns at the Navy-yard is easily heard at +the place where I was born and lived. "There is a ship of war come +in," they used to say, when they heard them. Of course, I supposed +that such vessels came in unexpectedly, after indefinite years of +absence,--suddenly as falling stones; and that the great guns +roared in their astonishment and delight at the sight of the old +war-ship splitting the bay with her cutwater. Now, the sloop-of- +war the Wasp, Captain Blakely, after gloriously capturing the +Reindeer and the Avon, had disappeared from the face of the ocean, +and was supposed to be lost. But there was no proof of it, and, of +course, for a time, hopes were entertained that she might be heard +from. Long after the last real chance had utterly vanished, I +pleased myself with the fond illusion that somewhere on the waste +of waters she was still floating, and there were YEARS during which +I never heard the sound of the great guns booming inland from the +Navy-yard without saying to myself, "The Wasp has come!" and almost +thinking I could see her, as she rolled in, crumpling the water +before her, weather-beaten, barnacled, with shattered spars and +threadbare canvas, welcomed by the shouts and tears of thousands. +This was one of those dreams that I nursed and never told. Let me +make a clean breast of it now, and say, that, so late as to have +outgrown childhood, perhaps to have got far on towards manhood, +when the roar of the cannon has struck suddenly on my ear, I have +started with a thrill of vague expectation and tremulous delight, +and the long-unspoken words have articulated themselves in the +mind's dumb whisper, THE WASP HAS COME! + +--Yes, children believe plenty of queer things. I suppose all of +you have had the pocket-book fever when you were little?--What do I +mean? Why, ripping up old pocket-books in the firm belief that +bank-bills to an immense amount were hidden in them.--So, too, you +must all remember some splendid unfulfilled promise of somebody or +other, which fed you with hopes perhaps for years, and which left a +blank in your life which nothing has ever filled up.--O. T. quitted +our household carrying with him the passionate regrets of the more +youthful members. He was an ingenious youngster; wrote wonderful +copies, and carved the two initials given above with great skill on +all available surfaces. I thought, by the way, they were all gone; +but the other day I found them on a certain door which I will show +you some time. How it surprised me to find them so near the +ground! I had thought the boy of no trivial dimensions. Well, O. +T., when he went, made a solemn promise to two of us. I was to +have a ship, and the other a marTIN-house (last syllable pronounced +as in the word TIN). Neither ever came; but, oh, how many and many +a time I have stolen to the corner,--the cars pass close by it at +this time,--and looked up that long avenue, thinking that he must +be coming now, almost sure, as I turned to look northward, that +there he would be, trudging toward me, the ship in one hand and the +marTIN-house in the other! + +[You must not suppose that all I am going to say, as well as all I +have said, was told to the whole company. The young fellow whom +they call John was in the yard, sitting on a barrel and smoking a +cheroot, the fumes of which came in, not ungrateful, through the +open window. The divinity-student disappeared in the midst of our +talk. The poor relation in black bombazine, who looked and moved +as if all her articulations were elbow-joints, had gone off to her +chamber, after waiting with a look of soul-subduing decorum at the +foot of the stairs until one of the male sort had passed her and +ascended into the upper regions. This is a famous point of +etiquette in our boarding-house; in fact, between ourselves, they +make such an awful fuss about it, that I, for one, had a great deal +rather have them simple enough not to think of such matters at all. +Our landlady's daughter said, the other evening, that she was going +to "retire"; whereupon the young fellow called John took up a lamp +and insisted on lighting her to the foot of the staircase. Nothing +would induce her to pass by him, until the schoolmistress, saying +in good plain English that it was her bed-time, walked straight by +them both, not seeming to trouble herself about either of them. + +I have been led away from what I meant the portion included in +these brackets to inform my readers about. I say, then, most of +the boarders had left the table about the time when I began telling +some of these secrets of mine,--all of them, in fact, but the old +gentleman opposite and the schoolmistress. I understand why a +young woman should like to hear these simple but genuine +experiences of early life, which are, as I have said, the little +brown seeds of what may yet grow to be poems with leaves of azure +and gold; but when the old gentleman pushed up his chair nearer to +me, and slanted round his best ear, and once, when I was speaking +of some trifling, tender reminiscence, drew a long breath, with +such a tremor in it that a little more and it would have been a +sob, why, then I felt there must be something of nature in them +which redeemed their seeming insignificance. Tell me, man or woman +with whom I am whispering, have you not a small store of +recollections, such as these I am uncovering, buried beneath the +dead leaves of many summers, perhaps under the unmelting snows of +fast-returning winters,--a few such recollections, which, if you +should write them all out, would be swept into some careless +editor's drawer, and might cost a scanty half-hour's lazy reading +to his subscribers,--and yet, if Death should cheat you of them, +you would not know yourself in eternity?] + +--I made three acquaintances at a very early period of life, my +introduction to whom was never forgotten. The first unequivocal +act of wrong that has left its trace in my memory was this: +refusing a small favor asked of me,--nothing more than telling what +had happened at school one morning. No matter who asked it; but +there were circumstances which saddened and awed me. I had no +heart to speak;--I faltered some miserable, perhaps petulant +excuse, stole away, and the first battle of life was lost. What +remorse followed I need not tell. Then and there, to the best of +my knowledge, I first consciously took Sin by the hand and turned +my back on Duty. Time has led me to look upon my offence more +leniently; I do not believe it or any other childish wrong is +infinite, as some have pretended, but infinitely finite. Yet, oh +if I had but won that battle! + +The great Destroyer, whose awful shadow it was that had silenced +me, came near me,--but never, so as to be distinctly seen and +remembered, during my tender years. There flits dimly before me +the image of a little girl, whose name even I have forgotten, a +schoolmate, whom we missed one day, and were told that she had +died. But what death was I never had any very distinct idea, until +one day I climbed the low stone wall of the old burial-ground and +mingled with a group that were looking into a very deep, long, +narrow hole, dug down through the green sod, down through the brown +loam, down through the yellow gravel, and there at the bottom was +an oblong red box, and a still, sharp, white face of a young man +seen through an opening at one end of it. When the lid was closed, +and the gravel and stones rattled down pell-mell, and the woman in +black, who was crying and wringing her hands, went off with the +other mourners, and left him, then I felt that I had seen Death, +and should never forget him. + +One other acquaintance I made at an earlier period of life than the +habit of romancers authorizes.--Love, of course.--She was a famous +beauty afterwards.--I am satisfied that many children rehearse +their parts in the drama of life before they have shed all their +milk-teeth.--I think I won't tell the story of the golden blonde. +--I suppose everybody has had his childish fancies; but sometimes +they are passionate impulses, which anticipate all the tremulous +emotions belonging to a later period. Most children remember +seeing and adoring an angel before they were a dozen years old. + +[The old gentleman had left his chair opposite and taken a seat by +the schoolmistress and myself, a little way from the table.--It's +true, it's true,--said the old gentleman.--He took hold of a steel +watch-chain, which carried a large, square gold key at one end and +was supposed to have some kind of time-keeper at the other. With +some trouble he dragged up an ancient-looking, thick, silver, +bull's-eye watch. He looked at it for a moment,--hesitated, +--touched the inner corner of his right eye with the pulp of his +middle finger,--looked at the face of the watch,--said it was +getting into the forenoon,--then opened the watch and handed me the +loose outside case without a word.--The watch-paper had been pink +once, and had a faint tinge still, as if all its tender life had +not yet quite faded out. Two little birds, a flower, and, in small +school-girl letters, a date,--17 . .--no matter.--Before I was +thirteen years old,--said the old gentleman.--I don't know what was +in that young schoolmistress's head, nor why she should have done +it; but she took out the watch-paper and put it softly to her lips, +as if she were kissing the poor thing that made it so long ago. +The old gentleman took the watch-paper carefully from her, replaced +it, turned away and walked out, holding the watch in his hand. I +saw him pass the window a moment after with that foolish white hat +on his head; he couldn't have been thinking what he was about when +he put it on. So the schoolmistress and I were left alone. I drew +my chair a shade nearer to her, and continued.] + +And since I am talking of early recollections, I don't know why I +shouldn't mention some others that still cling to me,--not that you +will attach any very particular meaning to these same images so +full of significance to me, but that you will find something +parallel to them in your own memory. You remember, perhaps, what I +said one day about smells. There were certain SOUNDS also which +had a mysterious suggestiveness to me,--not so intense, perhaps, as +that connected with the other sense, but yet peculiar, and never to +be forgotten. + +The first was the creaking of the wood-sleds, bringing their loads +of oak and walnut from the country, as the slow-swinging oxen +trailed them along over the complaining snow, in the cold, brown +light of early morning. Lying in bed and listening to their dreary +music had a pleasure in it akin to the Lucretian luxury, or that +which Byron speaks of as to be enjoyed in looking on at a battle by +one "who hath no friend, no brother there." + +There was another sound, in itself so sweet, and so connected with +one of those simple and curious superstitions of childhood of which +I have spoken, that I can never cease to cherish a sad sort of love +for it.--Let me tell the superstitious fancy first. The Puritan +"Sabbath," as everybody knows, began at "sundown" on Saturday +evening. To such observance of it I was born and bred. As the +large, round disk of day declined, a stillness, a solemnity, a +somewhat melancholy hush came over us all. It was time for work to +cease, and for playthings to be put away. The world of active life +passed into the shadow of an eclipse, not to emerge until the sun +should sink again beneath the horizon. + +It was in this stillness of the world without and of the soul +within that the pulsating lullaby of the evening crickets used to +make itself most distinctly heard,--so that I well remember I used +to think that the purring of these little creatures, which mingled +with the batrachian hymns from the neighboring swamp, WAS PECULIAR +TO SATURDAY EVENINGS. I don't know that anything could give a +clearer idea of the quieting and subduing effect of the old habit +of observance of what was considered holy time, than this strange, +childish fancy. + +Yes, and there was still another sound which mingled its solemn +cadences with the waking and sleeping dreams of my boyhood. It was +heard only at times,--a deep, muffled roar, which rose and fell, +not loud, but vast,--a whistling boy would have drowned it for his +next neighbor, but it must have been heard over the space of a +hundred square miles. I used to wonder what this might be. Could +it be the roar of the thousand wheels and the ten thousand +footsteps jarring and trampling along the stones of the neighboring +city? That would be continuous; but this, as I have said, rose and +fell in regular rhythm. I remember being told, and I suppose this +to have been the true solution, that it was the sound of the waves, +after a high wind, breaking on the long beaches many miles distant. +I should really like to know whether any observing people living +ten miles, more or less, inland from long beaches,--in such a town, +for instance, as Cantabridge, in the eastern part of the Territory +of the Massachusetts,--have ever observed any such sound, and +whether it was rightly accounted for as above. + +Mingling with these inarticulate sounds in the low murmur of +memory, are the echoes of certain voices I have heard at rare +intervals. I grieve to say it, but our people, I think, have not +generally agreeable voices. The marrowy organisms, with skins that +shed water like the backs of ducks, with smooth surfaces neatly +padded beneath, and velvet linings to their singing-pipes, are not +so common among us as that other pattern of humanity with angular +outlines and plane surfaces, and integuments, hair like the fibrous +covering of a cocoa-nut in gloss and suppleness as well as color, +and voices at once thin and strenuous,--acidulous enough to produce +effervescence with alkalis, and stridulous enough to sing duets +with the katydids. I think our conversational soprano, as +sometimes overheard in the cars, arising from a group of young +persons, who may have taken the train at one of our great +industrial centres, for instance,--young persons of the female sex, +we will say, who have bustled in full-dressed, engaged in loud +strident speech, and who, after free discussion, have fixed on two +or more double seats, which having secured, they proceed to eat +apples and hand round daguerreotypes,--I say, I think the +conversational soprano, heard under these circumstances, would not +be among the allurements the old Enemy would put in requisition, +were he getting up a new temptation of St. Anthony. + +There are sweet voices among us, we all know, and voices not +musical, it may be, to those who hear them for the first time, yet +sweeter to us than any we shall hear until we listen to some +warbling angel in the overture to that eternity of blissful +harmonies we hope to enjoy.--But why should I tell lies? If my +friends love me, it is because I try to tell the truth. I never +heard but two voices in my life that frightened me by their +sweetness. + +--Frightened you?--said the schoolmistress.--Yes, frightened me. +They made me feel as if there might be constituted a creature with +such a chord in her voice to some string in another's soul, that, +if she but spoke, he would leave all and follow her, though it were +into the jaws of Erebus. Our only chance to keep our wits is, that +there are so few natural chords between others' voices and this +string in our souls, and that those which at first may have jarred +a little by and by come into harmony with it.--But I tell you this +is no fiction. You may call the story of Ulysses and the Sirens a +fable, but what will you say to Mario and the poor lady who +followed him? + +--Whose were those two voices that bewitches me so?--They both +belonged to German women. One was a chambermaid, not otherwise +fascinating. The key of my room at a certain great hotel was +missing, and this Teutonic maiden was summoned to give information +respecting it. The simple soul was evidently not long from her +mother-land, and spoke with sweet uncertainty of dialect. But to +hear her wonder and lament and suggest, with soft, liquid +inflexions, and low, sad murmurs, in tones as full of serious +tenderness for the fate of the lost key as if it had been a child +that had strayed from its mother, was so winning, that, had her +features and figure been as delicious as her accents,--if she had +looked like the marble Clytie, for instance,--why, all can say is-- + +[The schoolmistress opened her eyes so wide, that I stopped short.] + +I was only going to say that I should have drowned myself. For +Lake Erie was close by, and it is so much better to accept +asphyxia, which takes only three minutes by the watch, than a +mesalliance, that lasts fifty years to begin with, and then passes +along down the line of descent, (breaking out in all manner of +boorish manifestations of feature and manner, which, if men were +only as short-lived as horses, could be readily traced back through +the square-roots and the cube-roots of the family stem on which you +have hung the armorial bearings of the De Champignons or the De la +Morues, until one came to beings that ate with knives and said +"Haow?") that no person of right feeling could have hesitated for a +single moment. + +The second of the ravishing voices I have heard was, as I have +said, that of another German woman.--I suppose I shall ruin myself +by saying that such a voice could not have come from any +Americanized human being. + +--What was there in it?--said the schoolmistress,--and, upon my +word, her tones were so very musical, that I almost wished I had +said three voices instead of two, and not made the unpatriotic +remark above reported.--Oh, I said, it had so much WOMAN in it, +--MULIEBRITY, as well as FEMINEITY;--no self-assertion, such as free +suffrage introduces into every word and movement; large, vigorous +nature, running back to those huge-limbed Germans of Tacitus, but +subdued by the reverential training and tuned by the kindly culture +of fifty generations. Sharp business habits, a lean soil, +independence, enterprise, and east winds, are not the best things +for the larynx. Still, you hear noble voices among us,--I have +known families famous for them,--but ask the first person you meet +a question, and ten to one there is a hard, sharp, metallic, +matter-of-business clink in the accents of the answer, that +produces the effect of one of those bells which small trades-people +connect with their shop-doors, and which spring upon your ear with +such vivacity, as you enter, that your first impulse is to retire +at once from the precincts. + +--Ah, but I must not forget that dear little child I saw and heard +in a French hospital. Between two and three years old. Fell out +of her chair and snapped both thigh-bones. Lying in bed, patient, +gentle. Rough students round her, some in white aprons, looking +fearfully business-like; but the child placid, perfectly still. I +spoke to her, and the blessed little creature answered me in a +voice of such heavenly sweetness, with that reedy thrill in it +which you have heard in the thrush's even-song, that I hear it at +this moment, while I am writing, so many, many years afterwards. +--C'est tout comme un serin, said the French student at my side. + +These are the voices which struck the key-note of my conceptions as +to what the sounds we are to hear in heaven will be, if we shall +enter through one of the twelve gates of pearl. There must be +other things besides aerolites that wander from their own spheres +to ours; and when we speak of celestial sweetness or beauty, we may +be nearer the literal truth than we dream. If mankind generally +are the shipwrecked survivors of some pre-Adamitic cataclysm, set +adrift in these little open boats of humanity to make one more +trial to reach the shore,--as some grave theologians have +maintained,--if, in plain English, men are the ghosts of dead +devils who have "died into life," (to borrow an expression from +Keats,) and walk the earth in a suit of living rags which lasts +three or four score summers,--why, there must have been a few good +spirits sent to keep them company, and these sweet voices I speak +of must belong to them. + +--I wish you could once hear my sister's voice,--said the +schoolmistress. + +If it is like yours, it must be a pleasant one,--said I. + +I never thought mine was anything,--said the schoolmistress. + +How should you know?--said I.--People never hear their own voices, +--any more than they see their own faces. There is not even a +looking-glass for the voice. Of course, there is something audible +to us when we speak; but that something is not our own voice as it +is known to all our acquaintances. I think, if an image spoke to +us in our own tones, we should not know them in the least.--How +pleasant it would be, if in another state of being we could have +shapes like our former selves for playthings,--we standing outside +or inside of them, as we liked, and they being to us just what we +used to be to others! + +--I wonder if there will be nothing like what we call "play," after +our earthly toys are broken,--said the schoolmistress. + +Hush,--said I,--what will the divinity-student say? + +[I thought she was hit, that time;--but the shot must have gone +over her, or on one side of her; she did not flinch.] + +Oh,--said the schoolmistress,--he must look out for my sister's +heresies; I am afraid he will be too busy with them to take care of +mine. + +Do you mean to say,--said I,--that it is YOUR SISTER whom that +student-- + +[The young fellow commonly known as John, who had been sitting on +the barrel, smoking, jumped off just then, kicked over the barrel, +gave it a push with his foot that set it rolling, and stuck his +saucy-looking face in at the window so as to cut my question off in +the middle; and the schoolmistress leaving the room a few minutes +afterwards, I did not have a chance to finish it. + +The young fellow came in and sat down in a chair, putting his heels +on the top of another. + +Pooty girl,--said he. + +A fine young lady,--I replied. + +Keeps a first-rate school, according to accounts,--said he, +--teaches all sorts of things,--Latin and Italian and music. Folks +rich once,--smashed up. She went right ahead as smart as if she'd +been born to work. That's the kind o' girl I go for. I'd marry +her, only two or three other girls would drown themselves, if I +did. + +I think the above is the longest speech of this young fellow's +which I have put on record. I do not like to change his peculiar +expressions, for this is one of those cases in which the style is +the man, as M. de Buffon says. The fact is, the young fellow is a +good-hearted creature enough, only too fond of his jokes,--and if +it were not for those heat-lightning winks on one side of his face, +I should not mind his fun much.] + + +[Some days after this, when the company were together again, I +talked a little.] + +--I don't think I have a genuine hatred for anybody. I am well +aware that I differ herein from the sturdy English moralist and the +stout American tragedian. I don't deny that I hate THE SIGHT of +certain people; but the qualities which make me tend to hate the +man himself are such as I am so much disposed to pity, that, except +under immediate aggravation, I feel kindly enough to the worst of +them. It is such a sad thing to be born a sneaking fellow, so much +worse than to inherit a hump-back or a couple of club-feet, that I +sometimes feel as if we ought to love the crippled souls, if I may +use this expression, with a certain tenderness which we need not +waste on noble natures. One who is born with such congenital +incapacity that nothing can make a gentleman of him is entitled, +not to our wrath, but to our profoundest sympathy. But as we +cannot help hating the sight of these people, just as we do that of +physical deformities, we gradually eliminate them from our +society,--we love them, but open the window and let them go. By +the time decent people reach middle age they have weeded their +circle pretty well of these unfortunates, unless they have a taste +for such animals; in which case, no matter what their position may +be, there is something, you may be sure, in their natures akin to +that of their wretched parasites. + +--The divinity-student wished to know what I thought of affinities, +as well as of antipathies; did I believe in love at first sight? + +Sir,--said I,--all men love all women. That is the prima-facie +aspect of the case. The Court of Nature assumes the law to be, +that all men do so; and the individual man is bound to show cause +why he does not love any particular woman. A man, says one of my +old black-letter law-books, may show divers good reasons, as thus: +He hath not seen the person named in the indictment; she is of +tender age, or the reverse of that; she hath certain personal +disqualifications,--as, for instance, she is a blackamoor, or hath +an ill-favored countenance; or, his capacity of loving being +limited, his affections are engrossed by a previous comer; and so +of other conditions. Not the less is it true that he is bound by +duty and inclined by nature to love each and every woman. +Therefore it is that each woman virtually summons every man to show +cause why he doth not love her. This is not by written document, +or direct speech, for the most part, but by certain signs of silk, +gold, and other materials, which say to all men,--Look on me and +love, as in duty bound. Then the man pleadeth his special +incapacity, whatsoever that may be,--as, for instance, +impecuniosity, or that he hath one or many wives in his household, +or that he is of mean figure, or small capacity; of which reasons +it may be noted, that the first is, according to late decisions, of +chiefest authority.--So far the old law-book. But there is a note +from an older authority, saying that every woman doth also love +each and every man, except there be some good reason to the +contrary; and a very observing friend of mine, a young unmarried +clergyman, tells me, that, so far as his experience goes, he has +reason to think the ancient author had fact to justify his +statement. + +I'll tell you how it is with the pictures of women we fall in love +with at first sight. + +--We a'n't talking about pictures,--said the landlady's daughter, +--we're talking about women. + +I understood that we were speaking of love at sight,--I remarked, +mildly.--Now, as all a man knows about a woman whom he looks at is +just what a picture as big as a copper, or a "nickel," rather, at +the bottom of his eye can teach him, I think I am right in saying +we are talking about the pictures of women.--Well, now, the reason +why a man is not desperately in love with ten thousand women at +once is just that which prevents all our portraits being distinctly +seen upon that wall. They all ARE painted there by reflection from +our faces, but because ALL of them are painted on each spot, and +each on the same surface, and many other objects at the same time, +no one is seen as a picture. But darken a chamber and let a single +pencil of rays in through a key-hole, then you have a picture on +the wall. We never fall in love with a woman in distinction from +women, until we can get an image of her through a pin-hole; and +then we can see nothing else, and nobody but ourselves can see the +image in our mental camera-obscura. + +--My friend, the Poet, tells me he has to leave town whenever the +anniversaries come round. + +What's the difficulty?--Why, they all want him to get up and make +speeches, or songs, or toasts; which is just the very thing he +doesn't want to do. He is an old story, he says, and hates to show +on these occasions. But they tease him, and coax him, and can't do +without him, and feel all over his poor weak head until they get +their fingers on the fontanelle, (the Professor will tell you what +this means,--he says the one at the top of the head always remains +open in poets,) until, by gentle pressure on that soft pulsating +spot, they stupefy him to the point of acquiescence. + +There are times, though, he says, when it is a pleasure, before +going to some agreeable meeting, to rush out into one's garden and +clutch up a handful of what grows there,--weeds and violets +together,--not cutting them off, but pulling them up by the roots +with the brown earth they grow in sticking to them. That's his +idea of a post-prandial performance. Look here, now. These verses +I am going to read you, he tells me, were pulled up by the roots +just in that way, the other day.--Beautiful entertainment,--names +there on the plates that flow from all English-speaking tongues as +familiarly as AND or THE; entertainers known wherever good poetry +and fair title-pages are held in esteem; guest a kind-hearted, +modest, genial, hopeful poet, who sings to the hearts of his +countrymen, the British people, the songs of good cheer which the +better days to come, as all honest souls trust and believe, will +turn into the prose of common life. My friend, the Poet, says you +must not read such a string of verses too literally. If he trimmed +it nicely below, you wouldn't see the roots, he says, and he likes +to keep them, and a little of the soil clinging to them. + +This is the farewell my friend, the Poet, read to his and our +friend, the Poet:- + + +A GOOD TIME GOING! + +Brave singer of the coming time, +Sweet minstrel of the joyous present, +Crowned with the noblest wreath of rhyme, +The holly-leaf of Ayrshire's peasant, +Good-bye! Good-bye!--Our hearts and hands, +Our lips in honest Saxon phrases, +Cry, God be with him, till he stands +His feet among the English daisies! + +'Tis here we part;--for other eyes +The busy deck, the flattering streamer, +The dripping arms that plunge and rise, +The waves in foam, the ship in tremor, +The kerchiefs waving from the pier, +The cloudy pillar gliding o'er him, +The deep blue desert, lone and drear, +With heaven above and home before him! + +His home!--the Western giant smiles, +And twirls the spotty globe to find it;-- +This little speck the British Isles? +'Tis but a freckle,--never mind it!-- +He laughs, and all his prairies roll, +Each gurgling cataract roars and chuckles, +And ridges stretched from pole to pole +Heave till they crack their iron knuckles! + +But memory blushes at the sneer, +And Honor turns with frown defiant, +And Freedom, leaning on her spear, +Laughs louder than the laughing giant:- +"An islet is a world," she said, +"When glory with its dust has blended, +And Britain kept her noble dead +Till earth and seas and skies are rended!" + +Beneath each swinging forest-bough +Some arm as stout in death reposes,-- +From wave-washed foot to heaven-kissed brow +Her valor's life-blood runs in roses; +Nay, let our brothers of the West +Write smiling in their florid pages, +One-half her soil has walked the rest +In poets, heroes, martyrs, sages! + +Hugged in the clinging billow's clasp, +From sea-weed fringe to mountain heather, +The British oak with rooted grasp +Her slender handful holds together;-- +With cliffs of white and bowers of green, +And Ocean narrowing to caress her, +And hills and threaded streams between,-- +Our little mother isle, God bless her! + +In earth's broad temple where we stand, +Fanned by the eastern gales that brought us, +We hold the missal in our hand, +Bright with the lines our Mother taught us; +Where'er its blazoned page betrays +The glistening links of gilded fetters, +Behold, the half-turned leaf displays +Her rubric stained in crimson letters! + +Enough! To speed a parting friend +'Tis vain alike to speak and listen;-- +Yet stay,--these feeble accents blend +With rays of light from eyes that glisten. +Good-bye! once more,--and kindly tell +In words of peace the young world's story,-- +And say, besides,--we love too well +Our mother's soil, our father's glory! + +When my friend, the Professor, found that my friend, the Poet, had +been coming out in this full-blown style, he got a little excited, +as you may have seen a canary, sometimes, when another strikes up. +The Professor says he knows he can lecture, and thinks he can write +verses. At any rate, he has often tried, and now he was determined +to try again. So when some professional friends of his called him +up, one day, after a feast of reason and a regular "freshet" of +soul which had lasted two or three hours, he read them these +verses. He introduced them with a few remarks, he told me, of +which the only one he remembered was this: that he had rather +write a single line which one among them should think worth +remembering than set them all laughing with a string of epigrams. +It was all right, I don't doubt; at any rate, that was his fancy +then, and perhaps another time he may be obstinately hilarious; +however, it may be that he is growing graver, for time is a fact so +long as clocks and watches continue to go, and a cat can't be a +kitten always, as the old gentleman opposite said the other day. + +You must listen to this seriously, for I think the Professor was +very much in earnest when he wrote it. + + +THE TWO ARMIES. + +As Life's unending column pours, +Two marshalled hosts are seen,-- +Two armies on the trampled shores +That Death flows black between. + +One marches to the drum-beat's roll, +The wide-mouthed clarion's bray, +And bears upon a crimson scroll, +"Our glory is to slay." + +One moves in silence by the stream, +With sad, yet watchful eyes, +Calm as the patient planet's gleam +That walks the clouded skies. + +Along its front no sabres shine, +No blood-red pennons wave; +Its banner bears the single line, +"Our duty is to save." + +For those no death-bed's lingering shade; +At Honor's trumpet-call, +With knitted brow and lifted blade +In Glory's arms they fall. + +For these no clashing falchions bright, +No stirring battle-cry; +The bloodless stabber calls by night,-- +Each answers, "Here am I!" + +For those the sculptor's laurelled bust, +The builder's marble piles, +The anthems pealing o'er their dust +Through long cathedral aisles. + +For these the blossom-sprinkled turf +That floods the lonely graves, +When Spring rolls in her sea-green surf +In flowery-foaming waves. + +Two paths lead upward from below, +And angels wait above, +Who count each burning life-drop's flow, +Each falling tear of Love. + +Though from the Hero's bleeding breast +Her pulses Freedom drew, +Though the white lilies in her crest +Sprang from that scarlet dew,-- + +While Valor's haughty champions wait +Till all their scars are shown, +Love walks unchallenged through the gate, +To sit beside the Throne! + + + +CHAPTER X + + + +[The schoolmistress came down with a rose in her hair,--a fresh +June rose. She has been walking early; she has brought back two +others,--one on each cheek. + +I told her so, in some such pretty phrase as I could muster for the +occasion. Those two blush-roses I just spoke of turned into a +couple of damasks. I suppose all this went through my mind, for +this was what I went on to say:-] + +I love the damask rose best of all. The flowers our mothers and +sisters used to love and cherish, those which grow beneath our +eaves and by our doorstep, are the ones we always love best. If +the Houyhnhnms should ever catch me, and, finding me particularly +vicious and unmanageable, send a man-tamer to Rareyfy me, I'll tell +you what drugs he would have to take and how he would have to use +them. Imagine yourself reading a number of the Houyhnhnm Gazette, +giving an account of such an experiment. + +"MAN-TAMING EXTRAORDINARY. + +"THE soft-hoofed semi-quadruped recently captured was subjected to +the art of our distinguished man-tamer in presence of a numerous +assembly. The animal was led in by two stout ponies, closely +confined by straps to prevent his sudden and dangerous tricks of +shoulder-hitting and foot-striking. His countenance expressed the +utmost degree of ferocity and cunning. + +"The operator took a handful of BUDDING LILAC-LEAVES, and crushing +them slightly between his hoofs, so as to bring out their peculiar +fragrance, fastened them to the end of a long pole and held them +towards the creature. Its expression changed in an instant,--it +drew in their fragrance eagerly, and attempted to seize them with +its soft split hoofs. Having thus quieted his suspicious subject, +the operator proceeded to tie a BLUE HYACINTH to the end of the +pole and held it out towards the wild animal. The effect was +magical. Its eyes filled as if with raindrops, and its lips +trembled as it pressed them to the flower. After this it was +perfectly quiet, and brought a measure of corn to the man-tamer, +without showing the least disposition to strike with the feet or +hit from the shoulder." + + +That will do for the Houyhnhnm Gazette.--Do you ever wonder why +poets talk so much about flowers? Did you ever hear of a poet who +did not talk about them? Don't you think a poem, which, for the +sake of being original, should leave them out, would be like those +verses where the letter A or E or some other is omitted? No,--they +will bloom over and over again in poems as in the summer fields, to +the end of time, always old and always new. Why should we be more +shy of repeating ourselves than the spring be tired of blossoms or +the night of stars? Look at Nature. She never wearies of saying +over her floral pater-noster. In the crevices of Cyclopean walls, +--in the dust where men lie, dust also,--on the mounds that bury +huge cities, the wreck of Nineveh and the Babel-heap,--still that +same sweet prayer and benediction. The Amen! of Nature is always a +flower. + +Are you tired of my trivial personalities,--those splashes and +streaks of sentiment, sometimes perhaps of sentimentality, which +you may see when I show you my heart's corolla as if it were a +tulip? Pray, do not give yourself the trouble to fancy me an idiot +whose conceit it is to treat himself as an exceptional being. It +is because you are just like me that I talk and know that you will +listen. We are all splashed and streaked with sentiments,--not +with precisely the same tints, or in exactly the same patterns, but +by the same hand and from the same palette. + +I don't believe any of you happen to have just the same passion for +the blue hyacinth which I have,--very certainly not for the crushed +lilac-leaf-buds; many of you do not know how sweet they are. You +love the smell of the sweet-fern and the bayberry-leaves, I don't +doubt; but I hardly think that the last bewitches you with young +memories as it does me. For the same reason I come back to damask +roses, after having raised a good many of the rarer varieties. I +like to go to operas and concerts, but there are queer little old +homely sounds that are better than music to me. However, I suppose +it's foolish to tell such things. + +--It is pleasant to be foolish at the right time,--said the +divinity-student;--saying it, however, in one of the dead +languages, which I think are unpopular for summer-reading, and +therefore do not bear quotation as such. + +Well, now,--said I,--suppose a good, clean, wholesome-looking +countryman's cart stops opposite my door.--Do I want any +huckleberries?--If I do not, there are those that do. Thereupon my +soft-voiced handmaid bears out a large tin pan, and then the +wholesome countryman, heaping the peck-measure, spreads his broad +hands around its lower arc to confine the wild and frisky berries, +and so they run nimbly along the narrowing channel until they +tumble rustling down in a black cascade and tinkle on the +resounding metal beneath.--I won't say that this rushing +huckleberry hail-storm has not more music for me than the "Anvil +Chorus." + +--I wonder how my great trees are coming on this summer. + +--Where are your great trees, Sir?--said the divinity-student. + +Oh, all round about New England. I call all trees mine that I have +put my wedding-ring on, and I have as many tree-wives as Brigham +Young has human ones. + +--One set's as green as the other,--exclaimed a boarder, who has +never been identified. + +They're all Bloomers,--said the young fellow called John. + +[I should have rebuked this trifling with language, if our +landlady's daughter had not asked me just then what I meant by +putting my wedding-ring on a tree.] + +Why, measuring it with my thirty-foot tape, my dear,--said I,--I +have worn a tape almost out on the rough barks of our old New +England elms and other big trees.--Don't you want to hear me talk +trees a little now? That is one of my specialities. + +[So they all agreed that they should like to hear me talk about +trees.] + +I want you to understand, in the first place, that I have a most +intense, passionate fondness for trees in general, and have had +several romantic attachments to certain trees in particular. Now, +if you expect me to hold forth in a "scientific" way about my +tree-loves,--to talk, for instance, of the Ulmus Americana, and +describe the ciliated edges of its samara, and all that,--you are an +anserine individual, and I must refer you to a dull friend who will +discourse to you of such matters. What should you think of a lover +who should describe the idol of his heart in the language of +science, thus: Class, Mammalia; Order, Primates; Genus, Homo; +Species, Europeus; Variety, Brown; Individual, Ann Eliza; Dental +Formula + + 2-2 1-1 2-2 3-3 +i---c---p---m--- + 2-2 1-1 2-2 3-3' + +and so on? + +No, my friends, I shall speak of trees as we see them, love them, +adore them in the fields, where they are alive, holding their green +sun-shades over our heads, talking to us with their hundred +thousand whispering tongues, looking down on us with that sweet +meekness which belongs to huge, but limited organisms,--which one +sees in the brown eyes of oxen, but most in the patient posture, +the outstretched arms, and the heavy-drooping robes of these vast +beings endowed with life, but not with soul,--which outgrow us and +outlive us, but stand helpless,--poor things!--while Nature dresses +and undresses them, like so many full-sized, but under-witted +children. + +Did you ever read old Daddy Gilpin? Slowest of men, even of +English men; yet delicious in his slowness, as is the light of a +sleepy eye in woman. I always supposed "Dr. Syntax" was written to +make fun of him. I have a whole set of his works, and am very +proud of it, with its gray paper, and open type, and long ff, and +orange-juice landscapes. The Pere Gilpin had the kind of science I +like in the study of Nature,--a little less observation than White +of Selborne, but a little more poetry.--Just think of applying the +Linnaean system to an elm! Who cares how many stamens or pistils +that little brown flower, which comes out before the leaf, may have +to classify it by? What we want is the meaning, the character, the +expression of a tree, as a kind and as an individual. + +There is a mother-idea in each particular kind of tree, which, if +well marked, is probably embodied in the poetry of every language. +Take the oak, for instance, and we find it always standing as a +type of strength and endurance. I wonder if you ever thought of +the single mark of supremacy which distinguishes this tree from all +our other forest-trees? All the rest of them shirk the work of +resisting gravity; the oak alone defies it. It chooses the +horizontal direction for its limbs, so that their whole weight may +tell,--and then stretches them out fifty or sixty feet, so that the +strain may be mighty enough to be worth resisting. You will find, +that, in passing from the extreme downward droop of the branches of +the weeping-willow to the extreme upward inclination of those of +the poplar, they sweep nearly half a circle. At 90 degrees the oak +stops short; to slant upward another degree would mark infirmity of +purpose; to bend downwards, weakness of organization. The American +elm betrays something of both; yet sometimes, as we shall see, puts +on a certain resemblance to its sturdier neighbor. + +It won't do to be exclusive in our taste about trees. There is +hardly one of them which has not peculiar beauties in some fitting +place for it. I remember a tall poplar of monumental proportions +and aspect, a vast pillar of glossy green, placed on the summit of +a lofty hill, and a beacon to all the country round. A native of +that region saw fit to build his house very near it, and, having a +fancy that it might blow down some time or other, and exterminate +himself and any incidental relatives who might be "stopping" or +"tarrying" with him,--also laboring under the delusion that human +life is under all circumstances to be preferred to vegetable +existence,--had the great poplar cut down. It is so easy to say, +"It is only a poplar!" and so much harder to replace its living +cone than to build a granite obelisk! + +I must tell you about some of my tree-wives. I was at one period +of my life much devoted to the young lady-population of Rhode +Island, a small, but delightful State in the neighborhood of +Pawtucket. The number of inhabitants being not very large, I had +leisure, during my visits to the Providence Plantations, to inspect +the face of the country in the intervals of more fascinating +studies of physiognomy. I heard some talk of a great elm a short +distance from the locality just mentioned. "Let us see the great +elm,"--I said, and proceeded to find it,--knowing that it was on a +certain farm in a place called Johnston, if I remember rightly. I +shall never forget my ride and my introduction to the great +Johnston elm. + +I always tremble for a celebrated tree when I approach it for the +first time. Provincialism has no SCALE of excellence in man or +vegetable; it never knows a first-rate article of either kind when +it has it, and is constantly taking second and third rate ones for +Nature's best. I have often fancied the tree was afraid of me, and +that a sort of shiver came over it as over a betrothed maiden when +she first stands before the unknown to whom she has been plighted. +Before the measuring-tape the proudest tree of them all quails and +shrinks into itself. All those stories of four or five men +stretching their arms around it and not touching each other's +fingers, if one's pacing the shadow at noon and making it so many +hundred feet, die upon its leafy lips in the presence of the awful +ribbon which has strangled so many false pretensions. + +As I rode along the pleasant way, watching eagerly for the object +of my journey, the rounded tops of the elms rose from time to time +at the road-side. Wherever one looked taller and fuller than the +rest, I asked myself,--"Is this it?" But as I drew nearer, they +grew smaller,--or it proved, perhaps, that two standing in a line +had looked like one, and so deceived me. At last, all at once, +when I was not thinking of it,--I declare to you it makes my flesh +creep when I think of it now,--all at once I saw a great, green +cloud swelling in the horizon, so vast, so symmetrical, of such +Olympian majesty and imperial supremacy among the lesser +forest-growths, that my heart stopped short, then jumped at my ribs +as a hunter springs at a five-barred gate, and I felt all through me, +without need of uttering the words,--"This is it!" + +You will find this tree described, with many others, in the +excellent Report upon the Trees and Shrubs of Massachusetts. The +author has given my friend the Professor credit for some of his +measurements, but measured this tree himself, carefully. It is a +grand elm for size of trunk, spread of limbs, and muscular +development,--one of the first, perhaps the first, of the first +class of New England elms. + +The largest actual girth I have ever found at five feet from the +ground is in the great elm lying a stone's throw or two north of +the main road (if my points of compass are right) in Springfield. +But this has much the appearance of having been formed by the union +of two trunks growing side by side. + +The West-Springfield elm and one upon Northampton meadows, belong +also to the first class of trees. + +There is a noble old wreck of an elm at Hatfield, which used to +spread its claws out over a circumference of thirty-five feet or +more before they covered the foot of its bole up with earth. This +is the American elm most like an oak of any I have ever seen. + +The Sheffield elm is equally remarkable for size and perfection of +form. I have seen nothing that comes near it in Berkshire County, +and few to compare with it anywhere. I am not sure that I remember +any other first-class elms in New England, but there may be many. + +--What makes a first-class elm?--Why, size, in the first place, and +chiefly. Anything over twenty feet of clear girth, five feet above +the ground, and with a spread of branches a hundred feet across, +may claim that title, according to my scale. All of them, with the +questionable exception of the Springfield tree above referred to, +stop, so far as my experience goes, at about twenty-two or +twenty-three feet of girth and a hundred and twenty of spread. + +Elms of the second class, generally ranging from fourteen to +eighteen feet, are comparatively common. The queen of them all is +that glorious tree near one of the churches in Springfield. +Beautiful and stately she is beyond all praise. The "great tree" +on Boston Common comes in the second rank, as does the one at +Cohasset, which used to have, and probably has still, a head as +round as an apple-tree, and that at Newburyport, with scores of +others which might be mentioned. These last two have perhaps been +over-celebrated. Both, however, are pleasing vegetables. The poor +old Pittsfield elm lives on its past reputation. A wig of false +leaves is indispensable to make it presentable. + +[I don't doubt there may be some monster-elm or other, vegetating +green, but inglorious, in some remote New England village, which +only wants a sacred singer to make it celebrated. Send us your +measurements,--(certified by the postmaster, to avoid possible +imposition,)--circumference five feet from soil, length of line +from bough-end to bough-end, and we will see what can be done for +you.] + +--I wish somebody would get us up the following work:- + + +SYLVA NOVANGLICA. + +Photographs of New England Elms and other Trees, taken upon the +Same Scale of Magnitude. With Letter-Press Descriptions, by a +Distinguished Literary Gentleman. Boston & Co. 185.. + + +The same camera should be used,--so far as possible,--at a fixed +distance. Our friend, who has given us so many interesting figures +in his "Trees of America," must not think this Prospectus invades +his province; a dozen portraits, with lively descriptions, would be +a pretty complement to his large work, which, so far as published, +I find excellent. If my plan were carried out, and another series +of a dozen English trees photographed on the same scale the +comparison would be charming. + +It has always been a favorite idea of mine to bring the life of the +Old and the New World face to face, by an accurate comparison of +their various types of organization. We should begin with man, of +course; institute a large and exact comparison between the +development of la pianta umana, as Alfieri called it, in different +sections of each country, in the different callings, at different +ages, estimating height, weigh, force by the dynamometer and the +spirometer, and finishing off with a series of typical photographs, +giving the principal national physiognomies. Mr. Hutchinson has +given us some excellent English data to begin with. + +Then I would follow this up by contrasting the various parallel +forms of life in the two continents. Our naturalists have often +referred to this incidentally or expressly; but the animus of +Nature in the two half globes of the planet is so momentous a point +of interest to our race, that it should be made a subject of +express and elaborate study. Go out with me into that walk which +we call THE MALL, and look at the English and American elms. The +American elm is tall, graceful, slender-sprayed, and drooping as if +from languor. The English elm is compact, robust, holds its +branches up, and carries its leaves for weeks longer than our own +native tree. + +Is this typical of the creative force on the two sides of the +ocean, or not? Nothing but a careful comparison through the whole +realm of life can answer this question. + +There is a parallelism without identity in the animal and vegetable +life of the two continents, which favors the task of comparison in +an extraordinary manner. Just as we have two trees alike in many +ways, yet not the same, both elms, yet easily distinguishable, just +so we have a complete flora and a fauna, which, parting from the +same ideal, embody it with various modifications. Inventive power +is the only quality of which the Creative Intelligence seems to be +economical; just as with our largest human minds, that is the +divinest of faculties, and the one that most exhausts the mind +which exercises it. As the same patterns have very commonly been +followed, we can see which is worked out in the largest spirit, and +determine the exact limitations under which the Creator places the +movement of life in all its manifestations in either locality. We +should find ourselves in a very false position, if it should prove +that Anglo-Saxons can't live here, but die out, if not kept up by +fresh supplies, as Dr. Knox and other more or less wise persons +have maintained. It may turn out the other way, as I have heard +one of our literary celebrities argue,--and though I took the other +side, I liked his best,--that the American is the Englishman +reinforced. + +--Will you walk out and look at those elms with me after +breakfast?--I said to the schoolmistress. + +[I am not going to tell lies about it, and say that she blushed, +--as I suppose she ought to have done, at such a tremendous piece of +gallantry as that was for our boarding-house. On the contrary, she +turned a little pale,--but smiled brightly and said,--Yes, with +pleasure, but she must walk towards her school.--She went for her +bonnet.--The old gentleman opposite followed her with his eyes, and +said he wished he was a young fellow. Presently she came down, +looking very pretty in her half-mourning bonnet, and carrying a +school-book in her hand.] + + +MY FIRST WALK WITH THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. + + +This is the shortest way,--she said, as we came to a corner.--Then +we won't take it,--said I.--The schoolmistress laughed a little, +and said she was ten minutes early, so she could go round. + +We walked under Mr. Paddock's row of English elms. The gray +squirrels were out looking for their breakfasts, and one of them +came toward us in light, soft, intermittent leaps, until he was +close to the rail of the burial-ground. He was on a grave with a +broad blue-slate-stone at its head, and a shrub growing on it. The +stone said this was the grave of a young man who was the son of an +Honorable gentleman, and who died a hundred years ago and more. +--Oh, yes, DIED,--with a small triangular mark in one breast, and +another smaller opposite, in his back, where another young man's +rapier had slid through his body; and so he lay down out there on +the Common, and was found cold the next morning, with the +night-dews and the death-dews mingled on his forehead. + +Let us have one look at poor Benjamin's grave,--said I.--His bones +lie where his body was laid so long ago, and where the stone says +they lie,--which is more than can be said of most of the tenants of +this and several other burial-grounds. + +[The most accursed act of Vandalism ever committed within my +knowledge was the uprooting of the ancient gravestones in three at +least of our city burialgrounds, and one at least just outside the +city, and planting them in rows to suit the taste for symmetry of +the perpetrators. Many years ago, when this disgraceful process +was going on under my eyes, I addressed an indignant remonstrance +to a leading journal. I suppose it was deficient in literary +elegance, or too warm in its language; for no notice was taken of +it, and the hyena-horror was allowed to complete itself in the face +of daylight. I have never got over it. The bones of my own +ancestors, being entombed, lie beneath their own tablet; but the +upright stones have been shuffled about like chessmen, and nothing +short of the Day of Judgment will tell whose dust lies beneath any +of those records, meant by affection to mark one small spot as +sacred to some cherished memory. Shame! shame! shame!--that is all +I can say. It was on public thoroughfares, under the eye of +authority, that this infamy was enacted. The red Indians would +have known better; the selectmen of an African kraal-village would +have had more respect for their ancestors. I should like to see +the gravestones which have been disturbed all removed, and the +ground levelled, leaving the flat tombstones; epitaphs were never +famous for truth, but the old reproach of "Here LIES" never had +such a wholesale illustration as in these outraged burial-places, +where the stone does lie above, and the bones do not lie beneath.] + +Stop before we turn away, and breathe a woman's sigh over poor +Benjamin's dust. Love killed him, I think. Twenty years old, and +out there fighting another young fellow on the Common, in the cool +of that old July evening;--yes, there must have been love at the +bottom of it. + +The schoolmistress dropped a rosebud she had in her hand, through +the rails, upon the grave of Benjamin Woodbridge. That was all her +comment upon what I told her.--How women love Love! said I;--but +she did not speak. + +We came opposite the head of a place or court running eastward from +the main street.--Look down there,--I said,--My friend the +Professor lived in that house at the left hand, next the further +corner, for years and years. He died out of it, the other day. +--Died?--said the schoolmistress.--Certainly,--said I.--We die out of +houses, just as we die out of our bodies. A commercial smash kills +a hundred men's houses for them, as a railroad crash kills their +mortal frames and drives out the immortal tenants. Men sicken of +houses until at last they quit them, as the soul leaves its body +when it is tired of its infirmities. The body has been called "the +house we live in"; the house is quite as much the body we live in. +Shall I tell you some things the Professor said the other day? +--Do!--said the schoolmistress. + +A man's body,--said the Professor,--is whatever is occupied by his +will and his sensibility. The small room down there, where I wrote +those papers you remember reading, was much more a portion of my +body than a paralytic's senseless and motionless arm or leg is of +his. + +The soul of a man has a series of concentric envelopes round it, +like the core of an onion, or the innermost of a nest of boxes. +First, he has his natural garment of flesh and blood. Then, his +artificial integuments, with their true skin of solid stuffs, their +cuticle of lighter tissues, and their variously-tinted pigments. +Thirdly, his domicile, be it a single chamber or a stately mansion. +And then, the whole visible world, in which Time buttons him up as +in a loose outside wrapper. + +You shall observe,--the Professor said,--for, like Mr. John Hunter +and other great men, he brings in that SHALL with great effect +sometimes,--you shall observe that a man's clothing or series of +envelopes does after a certain time mould itself upon his +individual nature. We know this of our hats, and are always +reminded of it when we happen to put them on wrong side foremost. +We soon find that the beaver is a hollow cast of the skull, with +all its irregular bumps and depressions. Just so all that clothes +a man, even to the blue sky which caps his head,--a little +loosely,--shapes itself to fit each particular being beneath it. +Farmers, sailors, astronomers, poets, lovers, condemned criminals, +all find it different, according to the eyes with which they +severally look. + +But our houses shape themselves palpably on our inner and outer +natures. See a householder breaking up and you will be sure of it. +There is a shell-fish which builds all manner of smaller shells +into the walls of its own. A house is never a home until we have +crusted it with the spoils of a hundred lives besides those of our +own past. See what these are and you can tell what the occupant +is. + +I had no idea,--said the Professor,--until I pulled up my domestic +establishment the other day, what an enormous quantity of roots I +had been making during the years I was planted there. Why, there +wasn't a nook or a corner that some fibre had not worked its way +into; and when I gave the last wrench, each of them seemed to +shriek like a mandrake, as it broke its hold and came away. + +There is nothing that happens, you know, which must not inevitably, +and which does not actually, photograph itself in every conceivable +aspect and in all dimensions. The infinite galleries of the Past +await but one brief process and all their pictures will be called +out and fixed forever. We had a curious illustration of the great +fact on a very humble scale. When a certain bookcase, long +standing in one place, for which it was built, was removed, there +was the exact image on the wall of the whole, and of many of its +portions. But in the midst of this picture was another,--the +precise outline of a map which had hung on the wall before the +bookcase was built. We had all forgotten everything about the map +until we saw its photograph on the wall. Then we remembered it, as +some day or other we may remember a sin which has been built over +and covered up, when this lower universe is pulled away from before +the wall of Infinity, where the wrong-doing stands self-recorded. + +The Professor lived in that house a long time,--not twenty years, +but pretty near it. When he entered that door, two shadows glided +over the threshold; five lingered in the doorway when he passed +through it for the last time,--and one of the shadows was claimed +by its owner to be longer than his own. What changes he saw in +that quiet place! Death rained through every roof but his; +children came into life, grew to maturity, wedded, faded away, +threw themselves away; the whole drama of life was played in that +stock-company's theatre of a dozen houses, one of which was his, +and no deep sorrow or severe calamity ever entered his dwelling. +Peace be to those walls, forever,--the Professor said,--for the +many pleasant years he has passed within them! + +The Professor has a friend, now living at a distance, who has been +with him in many of his changes of place, and who follows him in +imagination with tender interest wherever he goes.--In that little +court, where he lived in gay loneliness so long,-- + +--in his autumnal sojourn by the Connecticut, where it comes +loitering down from its mountain fastnesses like a great lord, +swallowing up the small proprietary rivulets very quietly as it +goes, until it gets proud and swollen and wantons in huge luxurious +oxbows about the fair Northampton meadows, and at last overflows +the oldest inhabitant's memory in profligate freshets at Hartford +and all along its lower shores,--up in that caravansary on the +banks of the stream where Ledyard launched his log canoe, and the +jovial old Colonel used to lead the Commencement processions, +--where blue Ascutney looked down from the far distance, and the +hills of Beulah, as the Professor always called them, rolled up the +opposite horizon in soft climbing masses, so suggestive of the +Pilgrim's Heavenward Path that he used to look through his old +"Dollond" to see if the Shining Ones were not within range of +sight,--sweet visions, sweetest in those Sunday walks which carried +them by the peaceful common, through the solemn village lying in +cataleptic stillness under the shadow of the rod of Moses, to the +terminus of their harmless stroll,--the patulous fage, in the +Professor's classic dialect,--the spreading beech, in more familiar +phrase,--[stop and breathe here a moment, for the sentence is not +done yet, and we have another long journey before us,]-- + +--and again once more up among those other hills that shut in the +amber-flowing Housatonic,--dark stream, but clear, like the lucid +orbs that shine beneath the lids of auburn-haired, sherry-wine-eyed +demi-blondes,--in the home overlooking the winding stream and the +smooth, flat meadow; looked down upon by wild hills, where the +tracks of bears and catamounts may yet sometimes be seen upon the +winter snow; facing the twin summits which rise in the far North, +the highest waves of the great land-storm in all this billowy +region,--suggestive to mad fancies of the breasts of a half-buried +Titaness, stretched out by a stray thunderbolt, and hastily hidden +away beneath the leaves of the forest,--in that home where seven +blessed summers were passed, which stand in memory like the seven +golden candlesticks in the beatific vision of the holy dreamer,-- + +--in that modest dwelling we were just looking at, not glorious, +yet not unlovely in the youth of its drab and mahogany,--full of +great and little boys' playthings from top to bottom,--in all these +summer or winter nests he was always at home and always welcome. + +This long articulated sigh of reminiscences,--this calenture which +shows me the maple-shadowed plains of Berkshire and the mountain- +circled green of Grafton beneath the salt waves which come feeling +their way along the wall at my feet, restless and soft-touching as +blind men's busy fingers,--is for that friend of mine who looks +into the waters of the Patapsco and sees beneath them the same +visions which paint themselves for me in the green depths of the +Charles. + +--Did I talk all this off to the schoolmistress?--Why, no,--of +course not. I have been talking with you, the reader, for the last +ten minutes. You don't think I should expect any woman to listen +to such a sentence as that long one, without giving her a chance to +put in a word? + +--What did I say to the schoolmistress?--Permit me one moment. I +don't doubt your delicacy and good-breeding; but in this particular +case, as I was allowed the privilege of walking alone with a very +interesting young woman, you must allow me to remark, in the +classic version of a familiar phrase, used by our Master Benjamin +Franklin, it is nullum tui negotii. + +When the schoolmistress and I reached the school-room door, the +damask roses I spoke of were so much heightened in color by +exercise that I felt sure it would be useful to her to take a +stroll like this every morning, and made up my mind I would ask her +to let me join her again. + + +EXTRACT FROM MY PRIVATE JOURNAL. +(To be burned unread.) + + +I am afraid I have been a fool; for I have told as much of myself +to this young person as if she were of that ripe and discreet age +which invites confidence and expansive utterance. I have been +low-spirited and listless, lately,--it is coffee, I think, +--(I observe that which is bought READY-GROUND never affects the +head,)--and I notice that I tell my secrets too easily when I am +downhearted. + +There are inscriptions on our hearts, which, like that on Dighton +Rock, are never to be seen except at dead-low tide. + +There is a woman's footstep on the sand at the side of my deepest +ocean-buried inscription! + +--Oh, no, no, no! a thousand times, no!--Yet what is this which has +been shaping itself in my soul?--Is it a thought?--is it a dream? +--is it a PASSION?--Then I know what comes next. + +--The Asylum stands on a bright and breezy hill; those glazed +corridors are pleasant to walk in, in bad weather. But there are +iron bars to all the windows. When it is fair, some of us can +stroll outside that very high fence. But I never see much life in +those groups I sometimes meet;--and then the careful man watches +them so closely! How I remember that sad company I used to pass on +fine mornings, when I was a schoolboy!--B., with his arms full of +yellow weeds,--ore from the gold mines which he discovered long +before we heard of California,--Y., born to millions, crazed by too +much plum-cake, (the boys said,) dogged, explosive,--made a +Polyphemus of my weak-eyed schoolmaster, by a vicious flirt with a +stick,--(the multi-millonnaires sent him a trifle, it was said, to +buy another eye with; but boys are jealous of rich folks, and I +don't doubt the good people made him easy for life,)--how I +remember them all! + +I recollect, as all do, the story of the Hall of Eblis, in +"Vathek," and how each shape, as it lifted its hand from its +breast, showed its heart,--a burning coal. The real Hall of Eblis +stands on yonder summit. Go there on the next visiting-day, and +ask that figure crouched in the corner, huddled up like those +Indian mummies and skeletons found buried in the sitting posture, +to lift its hand,--look upon its heart, and behold, not fire, but +ashes.--No, I must not think of such an ending! Dying would be a +much more gentlemanly way of meeting the difficulty. Make a will +and leave her a house or two and some stocks, and other little +financial conveniences, to take away her necessity for keeping +school.--I wonder what nice young man's feet would be in my French +slippers before six months were over! Well, what then? If a man +really loves a woman, of course he wouldn't marry her for the +world, if he were not quite sure that he was the best person she +could by any possibility marry. + +--It is odd enough to read over what I have just been writing.--It +is the merest fancy that ever was in the world. I shall never be +married. She will; and if she is as pleasant as she has been so +far, I will give her a silver tea-set, and go and take tea with her +and her husband, sometimes. No coffee, I hope, though,--it +depresses me sadly. I feel very miserably;--they must have been +grinding it at home.--Another morning walk will be good for me, and +I don't doubt the schoolmistress will be glad of a little fresh air +before school. + + +--The throbbing flushes of the poetical intermittent have been +coming over me from time to time of late. Did you ever see that +electrical experiment which consists in passing a flash through +letters of gold-leaf in a darkened room, whereupon some name or +legend springs out of the darkness in characters of fire? + +There are songs all written out in my soul, which I could read, if +the flash might pass through them,--but the fire must come down +from heaven. Ah! but what if the stormy nimbus of youthful passion +has blown by, and one asks for lightning from the ragged cirrus of +dissolving aspirations, or the silvered cumulus of sluggish +satiety? I will call on her whom the dead poets believed in, whom +living ones no longer worship,--the immortal maid, who, name her +what you will,--Goddess, Muse, Spirit of Beauty,--sits by the +pillow of every youthful poet, and bends over his pale forehead +until her tresses lie upon his cheek and rain their gold into his +dreams. + + +MUSA. + +O my lost Beauty!--hast thou folded quite +Thy wings of morning light +Beyond those iron gates +Where Life crowds hurrying to the haggard Fates, +And Age upon his mound of ashes waits +To chill our fiery dreams, +Hot from the heart of youth plunged in his icy streams? + +Leave me not fading in these weeds of care, +Whose flowers are silvered hair!-- +Have I not loved thee long, +Though my young lips have often done thee wrong +And vexed thy heaven-tuned ear with careless song? +Ah, wilt thou yet return, +Bearing thy rose-hued torch, and bid thine altar burn? + +Come to me!--I will flood thy silent shine +With my soul's sacred wine, +And heap thy marble floors +As the wild spice-trees waste their fragrant stores +In leafy islands walled with madrepores +And lapped in Orient seas, +When all their feathery palm toss, plume-like, in the breeze. + +Come to me!--thou shalt feed on honied words, +Sweeter than song of birds;-- +No wailing bulbul's throat, +No melting dulcimer's melodious note, +When o'er the midnight wave its murmurs float, +Thy ravished sense might soothe +With flow so liquid-soft, with strain so velvet-smooth. + +Thou shalt be decked with jewels, like a queen, +Sought in those bowers of green +Where loop the clustered vines +And the close-clinging dulcamara twines,-- +Pure pearls of Maydew where the moonlight shines, +And Summer's fruited gems, +And coral pendants shorn from Autumn's berried stems. + +Sit by me drifting on the sleepy waves,-- +Or stretched by grass-grown graves, +Whose gray, high-shouldered stones, +Carved with old names Life's time-worn roll disowns, +Lean, lichen-spotted, o'er the crumbled bones +Still slumbering where they lay +While the sad Pilgrim watched to scare the wolf away. + +Spread o'er my couch thy visionary wing! +Still let me dream and sing,-- +Dream of that winding shore +Where scarlet cardinals bloom,--for me no more,-- +The stream with heaven beneath its liquid floor, +And clustering nenuphars +Sprinkling its mirrored blue like golden-chaliced stars! + +Come while their balms the linden-blossoms shed!-- +Come while the rose is red,-- +While blue-eyed Summer smiles +On the green ripples round you sunken piles +Washed by the moon-wave warm from Indian isles, +And on the sultry air +The chestnuts spread their palms like holy men in prayer! + +Oh, for thy burning lips to fire my brain +With thrills of wild sweet pain!-- +On life's autumnal blast, +Like shrivelled leaves, youth's, passion-flowers are cast,-- +Once loving thee, we love thee to the last!-- +Behold thy new-decked shrine, +And hear once more the voice that breathed "Forever thine!" + + + +CHAPTER XI + + + +[The company looked a little flustered one morning when I came in, +--so much so, that I inquired of my neighbor, the divinity-student,) +what had been going on. It appears that the young fellow whom they +call John had taken advantage of my being a little late (I having +been rather longer than usual dressing that morning) to circulate +several questions involving a quibble or play upon words,--in +short, containing that indignity to the human understanding, +condemned in the passages from the distinguished moralist of the +last century and the illustrious historian of the present, which I +cited on a former occasion, and known as a PUN. After breakfast, +one of the boarders handed me a small roll of paper containing some +of the questions and their answers. I subjoin two or three of +them, to show what a tendency there is to frivolity and meaningless +talk in young persons of a certain sort, when not restrained by the +presence of more reflective natures.--It was asked, "Why tertian +and quartan fevers were like certain short-lived insects." Some +interesting physiological relation would be naturally suggested. +The inquirer blushes to find that the answer is in the paltry +equivocation, that they SKIP a day or two.--"Why an Englishman must +go to the Continent to weaken his grog or punch." The answer +proves to have no relation whatever to the temperance-movement, as +no better reason is given than that island--(or, as it is absurdly +written, ILE AND) water won't mix.--But when I came to the next +question and its answer, I felt that patience ceased to be a +virtue. "Why an onion is like a piano" is a query that a person of +sensibility would be slow to propose; but that in an educated +community an individual could be found to answer it in these +words,--"Because it smell odious," quasi, it's melodious,--is not +credible, but too true. I can show you the paper. + +Dear reader, I beg your pardon for repeating such things. I know +most conversations reported in books are altogether above such +trivial details, but folly will come up at every table as surely as +purslain and chickweed and sorrel will come up in gardens. This +young fellow ought to have talked philosophy, I know perfectly +well; but he didn't,--he made jokes.] + +I am willing,--I said,--to exercise your ingenuity in a rational +and contemplative manner.--No, I do not proscribe certain forms of +philosophical speculation which involve an approach to the absurd +or the ludicrous, such as you may find, for example, in the folio +of the Reverend Father Thomas Sanchez, in his famous Disputations, +"De Sancto Matrimonio." I will therefore turn this levity of yours +to profit by reading you a rhymed problem, wrought out by my friend +the Professor. + + +THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE: +OR THE WONDERFUL "ONE-HOSS-SHAY." +A LOGICAL STORY. + +Have you heard of the wonderful one-shay, +That was built in such a logical way +It ran a hundred years to a day, +And then, of a sudden, it--ah, but stay, +I'll tell you what happened without delay, +Scaring the parson into fits, +Frightening people out of their wits,-- +Have you ever heard of that, I say? + +Seventeen hundred and fifty-five. +Georgius Secundus was then alive,-- +Snuffy old drone from the German hive. +That was the year when Lisbon-town +Saw the earth open and gulp her down, +And Braddock's army was done so brown, +Left without a scalp to its crown. +It was on the terrible Earthquake-day +That the Deacon finished the one-hoss-shay. + +Now in building of chaises, I tell you what, +There is always SOMEWHERE a weakest spot,-- +In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, +In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill, +In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace,--lurking still +Find it somewhere you must and will,-- +Above or below, or within or without,-- +And that's the reason, beyond a doubt, +A chaise BREASTS DOWN, but doesn't WEAR OUT. + +But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, +With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell YEOU,") +He would build one shay to beat the taown +'n' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'; +It should be so built that it COULDN' break daown-- +--"Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain +Thut the weakes' place mus' stan the strain; +'n' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain, +Is only jest +T' make that place uz strong uz the rest." + +So the Deacon inquired of the village folk +Where he could find the strongest oak, +That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke,-- +That was for spokes and floor and sills; +He sent for lancewood to make the thills; +The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees; +The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese, +But lasts like iron for things like these; +The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum,"-- +Last of its timber,--they couldn't sell 'em, +Never an axe had seen their chips, +And the wedges flew from between their lips, +Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips; +Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, +Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too, +Steel of the finest, bright and blue; +Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide; +Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide +Found in the pit when the tanner died. +That was the way he "put her through."-- +"There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew." + +Do! I tell you, I father guess +She was a wonder, and nothing less! +Colts grew horses, beards turned gray, +Deacon and deaconess dropped away, +Children and grand-children--where were they? +But there stood the stout old one-hoss-shay +As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day! + +EIGHTEEN HUNDRED;--it came and found +The Deacon's Masterpiece strong and sound. +Eighteen hundred increased by ten;-- +"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then. +Eighteen hundred and twenty came;-- +Running as usual; much the same. +Thirty and forty at last arrive, +And then come fifty, and FIFTY-FIVE. + +Little of all we value here +Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year +Without both feeling and looking queer. +In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, +So far as I know, but a tree and truth. +(This is a moral that runs at large; +Take it.--You're welcome.--No extra charge.) + +FIRST OF NOVEMBER,--the Earthquake-day.-- +There are traces of age in the one-hoss-shay. +A general flavor of mild decay, +But nothing local, as one may say. +There couldn't be,--for the Deacon's art +Had made it so like in every part +That there wasn't a chance for one to start. +For the wheels were just as strong as the thills, +And the floor was just as strong as the sills, +And the panels just as strong as the floor, +And the whippletree neither less nor more, +And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore, +And spring and axle and hub encore. +And yet, AS A WHOLE, it is past a doubt +In another hour it will be WORN OUT! + +First of November, 'Fifty-five! +This morning the parson takes a drive. +Now, small boys, get out of the way! +Here comes the wonderful one-horse-shay, +Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay. +"Huddup!" said the parson.--Off went they. + +The parson was working his Sunday's text,-- +Had got to FIFTHLY, and stopped perplexed +At what the--Moses--was coming next. +All at once the horse stood still, +Close by the meet'n-house on the hill. +--First a shiver, and then a thrill, +Then something decidedly like a spill,-- +And the parson was sitting upon a rock, +At half-past nine by the meet'n-house clock,-- +Just the hour of the Earthquake shock! +--What do you think the parson found, +When he got up and stared around? +The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, +As if it had been to the mill and ground! +You see, of course, if you're not a dunce, +How it went to pieces all at once,-- +All at once, and nothing first,-- +Just as bubbles do when they burst. + +End of the wonderful one-hoss-shay. +Logic is logic. That's all I say. + + +--I think there is one habit,--I said to our company a day or two +afterwards--worse than that of punning. It is the gradual +substitution of cant or flash terms for words which truly +characterize their objects. I have known several very genteel +idiots whose whole vocabulary had deliquesced into some half dozen +expressions. All things fell into one of two great categories, +--FAST or SLOW. Man's chief end was to be a BRICK. When the great +calamities of life overtook their friends, these last were spoken +of as being a GOOD DEAL CUT UP. Nine-tenths of human existence +were summed up in the single word, BORE. These expressions come to +be the algebraic symbols of minds which have grown too weak or +indolent to discriminate. They are the blank checks of +intellectual bankruptcy;--you may fill them up with what idea you +like; it makes no difference, for there are no funds in the +treasury upon which they are drawn. Colleges and good-for-nothing +smoking-clubs are the places where these conversational fungi +spring up most luxuriantly. Don't think I undervalue the proper +use and application of a cant word or phrase. It adds piquancy to +conversation, as a mushroom does to a sauce. But it is no better +than a toadstool, odious to the sense and poisonous to the +intellect, when it spawns itself all over the talk of men and +youths capable of talking, as it sometimes does. As we hear flash +phraseology, it is commonly the dishwater from the washings of +English dandyism, school-boy or full-grown, wrung out of a +three-volume novel which had sopped it up, or decanted from the +pictured urn of Mr. Verdant Green, and diluted to suit the provincial +climate. + +--The young fellow called John spoke up sharply and said, it was +"rum" to hear me "pitchin' into fellers" for "goin' it in the slang +line," when I used all the flash words myself just when I pleased. + +--I replied with my usual forbearance.--Certainly, to give up the +algebraic symbol, because A or B is often a cover for ideal +nihility, would be unwise. I have heard a child laboring to +express a certain condition, involving a hitherto undescribed +sensation (as it supposed,) all of which could have been +sufficiently explained by the participle--BORED. I have seen a +country-clergyman, with a one-story intellect and a one-horse +vocabulary, who has consumed his valuable time (and mine) freely, +in developing an opinion of a brother-minister's discourse which +would have been abundantly characterized by a peach-down-lipped +sophomore in the one word--SLOW. Let us discriminate, and be shy +of absolute proscription. I am omniverbivorous by nature and +training. Passing by such words as are poisonous, I can swallow +most others, and chew such as I cannot swallow. + +Dandies are not good for much, but they are good for something. +They invent or keep in circulation those conversational blank +checks or counters just spoken of, which intellectual capitalists +may sometimes find it worth their while to borrow of them. They +are useful, too, in keeping up the standard of dress, which, but +for them, would deteriorate, and become, what some old fools would +have it, a matter of convenience, and not of taste and art. Yes, I +like dandies well enough,--on one condition. + +--What is that, Sir?--said the divinity-student. + +--That they have pluck. I find that lies at the bottom of all true +dandyism. A little boy dressed up very fine, who puts his finger +in his mouth and takes to crying, if other boys make fun of him, +looks very silly. But if he turns red in the face and knotty in +the fists, and makes an example of the biggest of his assailants, +throwing off his fine Leghorn and his thickly-buttoned jacket, if +necessary, to consummate the act of justice, his small toggery +takes on the splendors of the crested helmet that frightened +Astyanax. You remember that the Duke said his dandy officers were +his best officers. The "Sunday blood," the super-superb sartorial +equestrian of our annual Fast-day, is not imposing or dangerous. +But such fellows as Brummel and D'Orsay and Byron are not to be +snubbed quite so easily. Look out for "la main de fer sous le gant +de velours," (which I printed in English the other day without +quotation-marks, thinking whether any scarabaeus criticus would add +this to his globe and roll in glory with it into the newspapers, +--which he didn't do it, in the charming pleonasm of the London +language, and therefore I claim the sole merit of exposing the +same.) A good many powerful and dangerous people have had a +decided dash of dandyism about them. There was Alcibiades, the +"curled son of Clinias," an accomplished young man, but what would +be called a "swell" in these days. There was Aristoteles, a very +distinguished writer, of whom you have heard,--a philosopher, in +short, whom it took centuries to learn, centuries to unlearn, and +is now going to take a generation or more to learn over again. +Regular dandy, he was. So was Marcus Antonius; and though he lost +his game, he played for big stakes, and it wasn't his dandyism that +spoiled his chance. Petrarca was not to be despised as a scholar +or a poet, but he was one of the same sort. So was Sir Humphrey +Davy; so was Lord Palmerston, formerly, if I am not forgetful. +Yes,--a dandy is good for something as such; and dandies such as I +was just speaking of have rocked this planet like a cradle,--aye, +and left it swinging to this day.--Still, if I were you, I wouldn't +go to the tailor's, on the strength of these remarks, and run up a +long bill which will render pockets a superfluity in your next +suit. Elegans "nascitur, non fit." A man is born a dandy, as he +is born a poet. There are heads that can't wear hats; there are +necks that can't fit cravats; there are jaws that can't fill out +collars--(Willis touched this last point in one of his earlier +ambrotypes, if I remember rightly); there are tournures nothing can +humanize, and movements nothing can subdue to the gracious suavity +or elegant languor or stately serenity which belong to different +styles of dandyism. + +We are forming an aristocracy, as you may observe, in this +country,--not a gratia-Dei, nor a juredivino one,--but a de-facto +upper stratum of being, which floats over the turbid waves of +common life like the iridescent film you may have seen spreading +over the water about our wharves,--very splendid, though its origin +may have been tar, tallow, train-oil, or other such unctuous +commodities. I say, then, we are forming an aristocracy; and, +transitory as its individual life often is, it maintains itself +tolerably, as a whole. Of course, money is its corner-stone. But +now observe this. Money kept for two or three generations +transforms a race,--I don't mean merely in manners and hereditary +culture, but in blood and bone. Money buys air and sunshine, in +which children grow up more kindly, of course, than in close, back +streets; it buys country-places to give them happy and healthy +summers, good nursing, good doctoring, and the best cuts of beef +and mutton. When the spring-chickens come to market--I beg your +pardon,--that is not what I was going to speak of. As the young +females of each successive season come on, the finest specimens +among them, other things being equal, are apt to attract those who +can afford the expensive luxury of beauty. The physical character +of the next generation rises in consequence. It is plain that +certain families have in this way acquired an elevated type of face +and figure, and that in a small circle of city-connections one may +sometimes find models of both sexes which one of the rural counties +would find it hard to match from all its townships put together. +Because there is a good deal of running down, of degeneration and +waste of life, among the richer classes, you must not overlook the +equally obvious fact I have just spoken of,--which in one or two +generations more will be, I think, much more patent than just now. + +The weak point in our chryso-aristocracy is the same I have alluded +to in connection with cheap dandyism. Its thorough manhood, its +high-caste gallantry, are not so manifest as the plate-glass of +its windows and the more or less legitimate heraldry of its +coach-panels. It is very curious to observe of how small account +military folks are held among our Northern people. Our young men +must gild their spurs, but they need not win them. The equal +division of property keeps the younger sons of rich people above +the necessity of military service. Thus the army loses an element +of refinement, and the moneyed upper class forgets what it is to +count heroism among its virtues. Still I don't believe in any +aristocracy without pluck as its backbone. Ours may show it when +the time comes, if it ever does come. + +--These United States furnish the greatest market for intellectual +GREEN FRUIT of all the places in the world. I think so, at any +rate. The demand for intellectual labor is so enormous and the +market so far from nice, that young talent is apt to fare like +unripe gooseberries,--get plucked to make a fool of. Think of a +country which buys eighty thousand copies of the "Proverbial +Philosophy," while the author's admiring countrymen have been +buying twelve thousand! How can one let his fruit hang in the sun +until it gets fully ripe, while there are eighty thousand such +hungry mouths ready to swallow it and proclaim its praises? +Consequently, there never was such a collection of crude pippins +and half-grown windfalls as our native literature displays among +its fruits. There are literary green-groceries at every corner, +which will buy anything, from a button-pear to a pine-apple. It +takes a long apprenticeship to train a whole people to reading and +writing. The temptation of money and fame is too great for young +people. Do I not remember that glorious moment when the late Mr.---- +we won't say who,--editor of the--we won't say what, offered me the +sum of fifty cents per double-columned quarto page for shaking my +young boughs over his foolscap apron? Was it not an intoxicating +vision of gold and glory? I should doubtless have revelled in its +wealth and splendor, but for learning that the FIFTY CENTS was to +be considered a rhetorical embellishment, and by no means a literal +expression of past fact or present intention. + +--Beware of making your moral staple consist of the negative +virtues. It is good to abstain, and teach others to abstain, from +all that is sinful or hurtful. But making a business of it leads +to emaciation of character, unless one feeds largely also on the +more nutritious diet of active sympathetic benevolence. + +--I don't believe one word of what you are saying,--spoke up the +angular female in black bombazine. + +I am sorry you disbelieve it, Madam,--I said, and added softly to +my next neighbor,--but you prove it. + +The young fellow sitting near me winked; and the divinity-student +said, in an undertone,--Optime dictum. + +Your talking Latin,--said I,--reminds me of an odd trick of one of +my old tutors. He read so much of that language, that his English +half turned into it. He got caught in town, one hot summer, in +pretty close quarters, and wrote, or began to write, a series of +city pastorals. Eclogues he called them, and meant to have +published them by subscription. I remember some of his verses, if +you want to hear them.--You, Sir, (addressing myself to the +divinity-student,) and all such as have been through college, or, +what is the same thing, received an honorary degree, will +understand them without a dictionary. The old man had a great deal +to say about "aestivation," as he called it, in opposition, as one +might say, to hibernation. Intramural aestivation, or town-life in +summer, he would say, is a peculiar form of suspended existence, or +semi-asphyxia. One wakes up from it about the beginning of the +last week in September. This is what I remember of his poem:- + + +AESTIVATION. + +An Unpublished Poem, by my late Latin Tutor + +In candent ire the solar splendor flames; +The foles, languescent, pend from arid rames; +His humid front the cive, anheling, wipes, +And dreams of erring on ventiferous ripes. + +How dulce to vive occult to mortal eyes, +Dorm on the herb with none to supervise, +Carp the suave berries from the crescent vine, +And bibe the flow from longicaudate kine! + +To me, alas! no verdurous visions come, +Save yon exiguous pool's conferva-scum,-- +No concave vast repeats the tender hue +That laves my milk-jug with celestial blue! + +Me wretched! Let me curr to quercine shades +Effund your albid hausts, lactiferous maids! +Oh, might I vole to some umbrageous clump,-- +Depart,--be off,--excede,--evade,--erump! + + +--I have lived by the sea-shore and by the mountains.--No, I am not +going to say which is best. The one where your place is is the +best for you. But this difference there is: you can domesticate +mountains, but the sea is ferae naturae. You may have a hut, or +know the owner of one, on the mountain-side; you see a light +half-way up its ascent in the evening, and you know there is a home, +and you might share it. You have noted certain trees, perhaps; you +know the particular zone where the hemlocks look so black in +October, when the maples and beeches have faded. All its reliefs +and intaglios have electrotyped themselves in the medallions that +hang round the walls of your memory's chamber.--The sea remembers +nothing. It is feline. It licks your feet,--its huge flanks purr +very pleasantly for you; but it will crack your bones and eat you, +for all that, and wipe the crimsoned foam from its jaws as if +nothing had happened. The mountains give their lost children +berries and water; the sea mocks their thirst and lets them die. +The mountains have a grand, stupid, lovable tranquillity; the sea +has a fascinating, treacherous intelligence. The mountains lie +about like huge ruminants, their broad backs awful to look upon, +but safe to handle. The sea smooths its silver scales until you +cannot see their joints,--but their shining is that of a snake's +belly, after all.--In deeper suggestiveness I find as great a +difference. The mountains dwarf mankind and foreshorten the +procession of its long generations. The sea drowns out humanity +and time; it has no sympathy with either; for it belongs to +eternity, and of that it sings its monotonous song forever and +ever. + +Yet I should love to have a little box by the seashore. I should +love to gaze out on the wild feline element from a front window of +my own, just as I should love to look on a caged panther, and see +it, stretch its shining length, and then curl over and lap its +smooth sides, and by-and-by begin to lash itself into rage and show +its white teeth and spring at its bars, and howl the cry of its +mad, but, to me, harmless fury.--And then,--to look at it with that +inward eye,--who does not love to shuffle off time and its +concerns, at intervals,--to forget who is President and who is +Governor, what race he belongs to, what language he speaks, which +golden-headed nail of the firmament his particular planetary system +is hung upon, and listen to the great liquid metronome as it beats +its solemn measure, steadily swinging when the solo or duet of +human life began, and to swing just as steadily after the human +chorus has died out and man is a fossil on its shores? + +--What should decide one, in choosing a summer residence? +--Constitution, first of all. How much snow could you melt in an +hour, if you were planted in a hogshead of it? Comfort is +essential to enjoyment. All sensitive people should remember that +persons in easy circumstances suffer much more cold in summer--that +is, the warm half of the year--than in winter, or the other half. +You must cut your climate to your constitution, as much as your +clothing to your shape. After this, consult your taste and +convenient. But if you would be happy in Berkshire, you must carry +mountains in your brain; and if you would enjoy Nahant, you must +have an ocean in your soul. Nature plays at dominos with you; you +must match her piece, or she will never give it up to you. + +--The schoolmistress said, in a rather mischievous way, that she +was afraid some minds or souls would be a little crowded, if they +took in the Rocky Mountains or the Atlantic. + +Have you ever read the little book called "The Stars and the +Earth?"--said I.--Have you seen the Declaration of Independence +photographed in a surface that a fly's foot would cover? The forms +or conditions of Time and Space, as Kant will tell you, are nothing +in themselves,--only our way of looking at things. You are right, +I think, however, in recognizing the category of Space as being +quite as applicable to minds as to the outer world. Every man of +reflection is vaguely conscious of an imperfectly-defined circle +which is drawn about his intellect. He has a perfectly clear sense +that the fragments of his intellectual circle include the curves of +many other minds of which he is cognizant. He often recognizes +these as manifestly concentric with his own, but of less radius. +On the other hand, when we find a portion of an are on the outside +of our own, we say it INTERSECTS ours, but are very slow to confess +or to see that it CIRCUMSCRIBES it. Every now and then a man's +mind is stretched by a new idea or sensation, and never shrinks +back to its former dimensions. After looking at the Alps, I felt +that my mind had been stretched beyond the limits of its +elasticity, and fitted so loosely on my old ideas of space that I +had to spread these to fit it. + +--If I thought I should ever see the Alps!--said the +schoolmistress. + +Perhaps you will, some time or other,--I said. + +It is not very likely,--she answered.--I have had one or two +opportunities, but I had rather be anything than governess in a +rich family. + +[Proud, too, you little soft-voiced woman! Well, I can't say I +like you any the worse for it. How long will school-keeping take +to kill you? Is it possible the poor thing works with her needle, +too? I don't like those marks on the side of her forefinger. + +Tableau. Chamouni. Mont Blanc in full view. Figures in the +foreground; two of them standing apart; one of them a gentleman +of--oh,--ah,--yes! the other a lady in a white cashmere, leaning on +his shoulder.--The ingenuous reader will understand that this was +an internal, private, personal, subjective diorama, seen for one +instant on the background of my own consciousness, and abolished +into black nonentity by the first question which recalled me to +actual life, as suddenly as if one of those iron shop-blinds (which +I always pass at dusk with a shiver, expecting to stumble over some +poor but honest shop-boy's head, just taken off by its sudden and +unexpected descent, and left outside upon the sidewalk) had come +down in front of it "by the run."] + +--Should you like to hear what moderate wishes life brings one to +at last? I used to be very ambitious,--wasteful, extravagant, and +luxurious in all my fancies. Read too much in the "Arabian +Nights." Must have the lamp,--couldn't do without the ring. +Exercise every morning on the brazen horse. Plump down into +castles as full of little milk-white princesses as a nest is of +young sparrows. All love me dearly at once.--Charming idea of +life, but too high-colored for the reality. I have outgrown all +this; my tastes have become exceedingly primitive,--almost, +perhaps, ascetic. We carry happiness into our condition, but must +not hope to find it there. I think you will be willing to hear +some lines which embody the subdued and limited desires of my +maturity. + + +CONTENTMENT. + +"Man wants but little here below." + +Little I ask, my wants are few; +I only wish a hut of stone, +(A VERY PLAIN brown stone will do,) +That I may call my own;-- +And close at hand is such a one, +In yonder street that fronts the sun. + +Plain food is quite enough for me; +Three courses are as good as ten;-- +If Nature can subsist on three, +Thank heaven for three. Amen! +I always thought cold victual nice;-- +My CHOICE would be vanilla-ice. + +I care not much for gold or land;-- +Give me a mortgage here and there,-- +Some good bank-stock,--some note of hand, +Or trifling railroad share;-- +I only ask that Fortune send +A LITTLE more than I shall spend. + +Honors are silly toys, I know, +And titles are but empty names;-- +I would, PERHAPS, be Plenipo,-- +But only near St. James;-- +I'm very sure I should not care +To fill our Gubernator's chair. + +Jewels are baubles; 'tis a sin +To care for such unfruitful things;-- +One good-sized diamond in a pin,-- +Some, NOT SO LARGE, in rings,-- +A ruby and a pearl, or so, +Will do for me;--I laugh at show. + +My dame should dress in cheap attire; +(Good, heavy silks are never dear;)-- +I own perhaps I MIGHT desire +Some shawls of true cashmere,-- +Some marrowy crapes of China silk, +Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk. + +I would not have the horse I drive +So fast that folks must stop and stare +An easy gait--two, forty-five-- +Suits me; I do not care;-- +Perhaps, for just a SINGLE SPURT, +Some seconds less would do no hurt. + +Of pictures, I should like to own +Titians and Raphaels three or four,-- +I love so much their style and tone,-- +One Turner, and no more,-- +(A landscape,--foreground golden dirt +The sunshine painted with a squirt.) + +Of books but few,--some fifty score +For daily use, and bound for wear; +The rest upon an upper floor;-- +Some LITTLE luxury THERE +Of red morocco's gilded gleam, +And vellum rich as country cream. + +Busts, cameos, gems,--such things as these, +Which others often show for pride, +_I_ value for their power to please, +And selfish churls deride;-- +ONE Stradivarius, I confess, +TWO Meerschaums, I would fain possess. + +Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn, +Nor ape the glittering upstart fool;-- +Shall not carved tables serve my turn, +But ALL must be of buhl? +Give grasping pomp its double share,-- +I ask but ONE recumbent chair. + +Thus humble let me live and die, +Nor long for Midas' golden touch, +If Heaven more generous gifts deny, +I shall not miss them MUCH,-- +Too grateful for the blessing lent +Of simple tastes and mind content! + + +MY LAST WALK WITH THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. +(A Parenthesis.) + +I can't say just how many walks she and I had taken together before +this one. I found the effect of going out every morning was +decidedly favorable on her health. Two pleasing dimples, the +places for which were just marked when she came, played, shadowy, +in her freshening cheeks when she smiled and nodded good-morning to +me from the school-house-steps. + +I am afraid I did the greater part of the talking. At any rate, if +I should try to report all that I said during the first half-dozen +walks we took together, I fear that I might receive a gentle hint +from my friends the publishers, that a separate volume, at my own +risk and expense, would be the proper method of bringing them +before the public. + +--I would have a woman as true as Death. At the first real lie +which works from the heart outward, she should be tenderly +chloroformed into a better world, where she can have an angel for a +governess, and feed on strange fruits which will make her all over +again, even to her bones and marrow.--Whether gifted with the +accident of beauty or not, she should have been moulded in the +rose-red clay of Love, before the breath of life made a moving +mortal of her. Love-capacity is a congenital endowment; and I +think, after a while, one gets to know the warm-hued natures it +belongs to from the pretty pipe-clay counterfeits of them.--Proud +she may be, in the sense of respecting herself; but pride in the +sense of contemning others less gifted than herself, deserves the +two lowest circles of a vulgar woman's Inferno, where the +punishments are Smallpox and Bankruptcy.--She who nips off the end +of a brittle courtesy, as one breaks the tip of an icicle, to +bestow upon those whom she ought cordially and kindly to recognize, +proclaims the fact that she comes not merely of low blood, but of +bad blood. Consciousness of unquestioned position makes people +gracious in proper measure to all; but if a woman puts on airs with +her real equals, she has something about herself or her family she +is ashamed of, or ought to be. Middle, and more than middle-aged +people, who know family histories, generally see through it. An +official of standing was rude to me once. Oh, that is the maternal +grandfather,--said a wise old friend to me,--he was a boor.--Better +too few words, from the woman we love, than too many: while she is +silent, Nature is working for her; while she talks, she is working +for herself.--Love is sparingly soluble in the words of men; +therefore they speak much of it; but one syllable of woman's speech +can dissolve more of it than a man's heart can hold. + +--Whether I said any or all of these things to the schoolmistress, +or not,--whether I stole them out of Lord Bacon,--whether I cribbed +them from Balzac,--whether I dipped them from the ocean of +Tupperian wisdom,--or whether I have just found them in my head, +laid there by that solemn fowl, Experience, (who, according to my +observation, cackles oftener than she drops real live eggs,) I +cannot say. Wise men have said more foolish things,--and foolish +men, I don't doubt, have said as wise things. Anyhow, the +schoolmistress and I had pleasant walks and long talks, all of +which I do not feel bound to report. + +--You are a stranger to me, Ma'am.--I don't doubt you would like to +know all I said to the schoolmistress.--I sha'n't do it;--I had +rather get the publishers to return the money you have invested in +this. Besides, I have forgotten a good deal of it. I shall tell +only what I like of what I remember. + +--My idea was, in the first place, to search out the picturesque +spots which the city affords a sight of, to those who have eyes. I +know a good many, and it was a pleasure to look at them in company +with my young friend. There were the shrubs and flowers in the +Franklin-Place front-yards or borders; Commerce is just putting his +granite foot upon them. Then there are certain small seraglio- +gardens, into which one can get a peep through the crevices of high +fences,--one in Myrtle Street, or backing on it,--here and there +one at the North and South Ends. Then the great elms in Essex +Street. Then the stately horse-chestnuts in that vacant lot in +Chambers Street, which hold their outspread hands over your head, +(as I said in my poem the other day,) and look as if they were +whispering, "May grace, mercy, and peace be with you!"--and the +rest of that benediction. Nay, there are certain patches of +ground, which, having lain neglected for a time, Nature, who always +has her pockets full of seeds, and holes in all her pockets, has +covered with hungry plebeian growths, which fight for life with +each other, until some of them get broad-leaved and succulent, and +you have a coarse vegetable tapestry which Raphael would not have +disdained to spread over the foreground of his masterpiece. The +Professor pretends that he found such a one in Charles Street, +which, in its dare-devil impudence of rough-and-tumble vegetation, +beat the pretty-behaved flower-beds of the Public Garden as +ignominiously as a group of young tatterdemalions playing +pitch-and-toss beats a row of Sunday-school-boys with their +teacher at their head. + +But then the Professor has one of his burrows in that region, and +puts everything in high colors relating to it. That is his way +about everything. I hold any man cheap,--he said,--of whom nothing +stronger can be uttered than that all his geese are swans.--How is +that, Professor?--said I;--I should have set you down for one of +that sort.--Sir,--said he,--I am proud to say, that Nature has so +far enriched me, that I cannot own so much as a duck without seeing +in it as pretty a swan as ever swam the basin in the garden of the +Luxembourg. And the Professor showed the whites of his eyes +devoutly, like one returning thanks after a dinner of many courses. + +I don't know anything sweeter than this leaking in of Nature +through all the cracks in the walls and floors of cities. You heap +up a million tons of hewn rocks on a square mile or two of earth +which was green once. The trees look down from the hill-sides and +ask each other, as they stand on tiptoe,--"What are these people +about?" And the small herbs at their feet look up and whisper +back,--"We will go and see." So the small herbs pack themselves up +in the least possible bundles, and wait until the wind steals to +them at night and whispers, "Come with me." Then they go softly +with it into the great city,--one to a cleft in the pavement, one +to a spout on the roof, one to a seam in the marbles over a rich +gentleman's bones, and one to the grave without a stone where +nothing but a man is buried,--and there they grow, looking down on +the generations of men from mouldy roofs, looking up from between +the less-trodden pavements, looking out through iron cemetery- +railings. Listen to them, when there is only a light breath +stirring, and you will hear them saying to each other,--"Wait +awhile!" The words run along the telegraph of those narrow green +lines that border the roads leading from the city, until they reach +the slope of the hills, and the trees repeat in low murmurs to each +other,--"Wait awhile!" By-and-by the flow of life in the streets +ebbs, and the old leafy inhabitants--the smaller tribes always in +front--saunter in, one by one, very careless seemingly, but very +tenacious, until they swarm so that the great stones gape from each +other with the crowding of their roots, and the feldspar begins to +be picked out of the granite to find them food. At last the trees +take up their solemn line of march, and never rest until they have +encamped in the market-place. Wait long enough and you will find +an old doting oak hugging a huge worn block in its yellow +underground arms; that was the cornerstone of the State-House. Oh, +so patient she is, this imperturbable Nature! + +--Let us cry!-- + +But all this has nothing to do with my walks and talks with the +schoolmistress. I did not say that I would not tell you something +about them. Let me alone, and I shall talk to you more than I +ought to, probably. We never tell our secrets to people that pump +for them. + +Books we talked about, and education. It was her duty to know +something of these, and of course she did. Perhaps I was somewhat +more learned than she, but I found that the difference between her +reading and mine was like that of a man's and a woman's dusting a +library. The man flaps about with a bunch of feathers; the woman +goes to work softly with a cloth. She does not raise half the +dust, nor fill her own eyes and mouth with it,--but she goes into +all the corners, and attends to the leaves as much as the covers. +--Books are the NEGATIVE pictures of thought, and the more sensitive +the mind that receives their images, the more nicely the finest +lines are reproduced. A woman, (of the right kind,) reading after +a man, follows him as Ruth followed the reapers of Boaz, and her +gleanings are often the finest of the wheat. + +But it was in talking of Life that we came most clearly together. +I thought I knew something about that,--that I could speak or write +about it somewhat to the purpose. + +To take up this fluid earthly being of ours as a sponge sucks up +water,--to be steeped and soaked in its realities as a hide fills +its pores lying seven years in a tan-pit,--to have winnowed every +wave of it as a mill-wheel works up the stream that runs through +the flume upon its float-boards,--to have curled up in the keenest +spasms and flattened out in the laxest languors of this breathing- +sickness, which keeps certain parcels of matter uneasy for three or +four score years,--to have fought all the devils and clasped all +the angels of its delirium,--and then, just at the point when the +white-hot passions have cooled down to cherry-red, plunge our +experience into the ice-cold stream of some human language or +other, one might think would end in a rhapsody with something of +spring and temper in it. All this I thought my power and province. + +The schoolmistress had tried life, too. Once in a while one meets +with a single soul greater than all the living pageant which passes +before it. As the pale astronomer sits in his study with sunken +eyes and thin fingers, and weighs Uranus or Neptune as in a +balance, so there are meek, slight women who have weighed all which +this planetary life can offer, and hold it like a bauble in the +palm of their slender hands. This was one of them. Fortune had +left her, sorrow had baptized her; the routine of labor and the +loneliness of almost friendless city-life were before her. Yet, as +I looked upon her tranquil face, gradually regaining a cheerfulness +which was often sprightly, as she became interested in the various +matters we talked about and places we visited, I saw that eye and +lip and every shifting lineament were made for love,--unconscious +of their sweet office as yet, and meeting the cold aspect of Duty +with the natural graces which were meant for the reward of nothing +less than the Great Passion. + +--I never addressed one word of love to the schoolmistress in the +course of these pleasant walks. It seemed to me that we talked of +everything but love on that particular morning. There was, +perhaps, a little more timidity and hesitancy on my part than I +have commonly shown among our people at the boarding-house. In +fact, I considered myself the master at the breakfast-table; but, +somehow, I could not command myself just then so well as usual. +The truth is, I had secured a passage to Liverpool in the steamer +which was to leave at noon,--with the condition, however, of being +released in case circumstances occurred to detain me. The +schoolmistress knew nothing about all this, of course, as yet. + +It was on the Common that we were walking. The MALL, or boulevard +of our Common, you know, has various branches leading from it in +different directions. One of these runs down from opposite Joy +Street southward across the whole length of the Common to Boylston +Street. We called it the long path, and were fond of it. + +I felt very weak indeed (though of a tolerably robust habit) as we +came opposite the head of this path on that morning. I think I +tried to speak twice without making myself distinctly audible. At +last I got out the question,--Will you take the long path with me? +--Certainly,--said the schoolmistress,--with much pleasure.--Think, +--I said,--before you answer; if you take the long path with +me now, I shall interpret it that we are to part no more!--The +schoolmistress stepped back with a sudden movement, as if an arrow +had struck her. + +One of the long granite blocks used as seats was hard by,--the one +you may still see close by the Gingko-tree.--Pray, sit down,--I +said.--No, no, she answered, softly,--I will walk the LONG PATH +with you! + +--The old gentleman who sits opposite met us walking, arm in arm, +about the middle of the long path, and said, very charmingly, +--"Good morning, my dears!" + + + +CHAPTER XII + + + +[I did not think it probable that I should have a great many more +talks with our company, and therefore I was anxious to get as much +as I could into every conversation. That is the reason why you +will find some odd, miscellaneous facts here, which I wished to +tell at least once, as I should not have a chance to tell them +habitually at our breakfast-table.--We're very free and easy, you +know; we don't read what we don't like. Our parish is so large, +one can't pretend to preach to all the pews at once. One can't be +all the time trying to do the best of one's best if a company works +a steam fire-engine, the firemen needn't be straining themselves +all day to squirt over the top of the flagstaff. Let them wash +some of those lower-story windows a little. Besides, there is no +use in our quarrelling now, as you will find out when you get +through this paper.] + +--Travel, according to my experience, does not exactly correspond +to the idea one gets of it out of most books of travels. I am +thinking of travel as it was when I made the Grand Tour, especially +in Italy. Memory is a net; one finds it full of fish when he takes +it from the brook; but a dozen miles of water have run through it +without sticking. I can prove some facts about travelling by a +story or two. There are certain principles to be assumed,--such +as these:--He who is carried by horses must deal with rogues. +--To-day's dinner subtends a larger visual angle than yesterday's +revolution. A mote in my eye is bigger to me than the biggest of +Dr. Gould's private planets.--Every traveller is a self-taught +entomologist.--Old jokes are dynamometers of mental tension; an old +joke tells better among friends travelling than at home,--which +shows that their minds are in a state of diminished, rather than +increased vitality. There was a story about "strahps to your +pahnts," which was vastly funny to us fellows--on the road from +Milan to Venice.--Caelum, non animum,--travellers change their +guineas, but not their characters. The bore is the same, eating +dates under the cedars of Lebanon, as over a plate of baked beans +in Beacon Street.--Parties of travellers have a morbid instinct for +"establishing raws" upon each other.--A man shall sit down with his +friend at the foot of the Great Pyramid and they will take up the +question they had been talking about under "the great elm," and +forget all about Egypt. When I was crossing the Po, we were all +fighting about the propriety of one fellow's telling another that +his argument was absurd; one maintaining it to be a perfectly +admissible logical term, as proved by the phrase "reductio ad +absurdum;" the rest badgering him as a conversational bully. +Mighty little we troubled ourselves for Padus, the Po, "a river +broader and more rapid than the Rhone," and the times when Hannibal +led his grim Africans to its banks, and his elephants thrust their +trunks into the yellow waters over which that pendulum ferry-boat +was swinging back and forward every ten minutes! + +--Here are some of those reminiscences, with morals prefixed, or +annexed, or implied. + +Lively emotions very commonly do not strike us full in front, but +obliquely from the side; a scene or incident in UNDRESS often +affects us more than one in full costume. + + +"Is this the mighty ocean?--is this all?" + + +says the Princess in Gebir. The rush that should have flooded my +soul in the Coliseum did not come. But walking one day in the +fields about the city, I stumbled over a fragment of broken +masonry, and lo! the World's Mistress in her stone girdle--alta +maenia Romae--rose before me and whitened my cheek with her pale +shadow as never before or since. + +I used very often, when coming home from my morning's work at one +of the public institutions of Paris, to stop in at the dear old +church of St. Etienne du Mont. The tomb of St. Genevieve, +surrounded by burning candles and votive tablets, was there; the +mural tablet of Jacobus Benignus Winslow was there; there was a +noble organ with carved figures; the pulpit was borne on the oaken +shoulders of a stooping Samson; and there was a marvellous +staircase like a coil of lace. These things I mention from memory, +but not all of them together impressed me so much as an inscription +on a small slab of marble fixed in one of the walls. It told how +this church of St. Stephen was repaired and beautified in the year +16**, and how, during the celebration of its reopening, two girls +of the parish (filles de la paroisse) fell from the gallery, +carrying a part of the balustrade with them, to the pavement, but +by a miracle escaped uninjured. Two young girls, nameless, but +real presences to my imagination, as much as when they came +fluttering down on the tiles with a cry that outscreamed the +sharpest treble in the Te Deum. (Look at Carlyle's article on +Boswell, and see how he speaks of the poor young woman Johnson +talked with in the streets one evening.) All the crowd gone but +these two "filles de la paroisse,"--gone as utterly as the dresses +they wore, as the shoes that were on their feet, as the bread and +meat that were in the market on that day. + +Not the great historical events, but the personal incidents that +call up single sharp pictures of some human being in its pang or +struggle, reach us most nearly. I remember the platform at Berne, +over the parapet of which Theobald Weinzapfli's restive horse +sprung with him and landed him more than a hundred feet beneath in +the lower town, not dead, but sorely broken, and no longer a wild +youth, but God's servant from that day forward. I have forgotten +the famous bears, and all else.--I remember the Percy lion on the +bridge over the little river at Alnwick,--the leaden lion with his +tail stretched out straight like a pump-handle,--and why? Because +of the story of the village boy who must fain bestride the leaden +tail, standing out over the water,--which breaking, he dropped into +the stream far below, and was taken out an idiot for the rest of +his life. + +Arrow-heads must be brought to a sharp point, and the guillotine- +axe must have a slanting edge. Something intensely human, narrow, +and definate pierces to the seat of our sensibilities more readily +than huge occurrences and catastrophes. A nail will pick a lock +that defies hatchet and hammer. "The Royal George" went down with +all her crew, and Cowper wrote an exquisitely simple poem about it; +but the leaf which holds it is smooth, while that which bears the +lines on his mother's portrait is blistered with tears. + +My telling these recollections sets me thinking of others of the +same kind which strike the imagination, especially when one is +still young. You remember the monument in Devizes market to the +woman struck dead with a lie in her mouth. I never saw that, but +it is in the books. Here is one I never heard mentioned;--if any +of the "Note and Query" tribe can tell the story, I hope they will. +Where is this monument? I was riding on an English stage-coach +when we passed a handsome marble column (as I remember it) of +considerable size and pretensions.--What is that?--I said.--That, +--answered the coachman,--is THE HANGMAN'S PILLAR. Then he told me +how a man went out one night, many years ago, to steal sheep. He +caught one, tied its legs together, passed the rope over his head, +and started for home. In climbing a fence, the rope slipped, +caught him by the neck, and strangled him. Next morning he was +found hanging dead on one side of the fence and the sheep on the +other; in memory whereof the lord of the manor caused this monument +to be erected as a warning to all who love mutton better than +virtue. I will send a copy of this record to him or her who shall +first set me right about this column and its locality. + +And telling over these old stories reminds me that I have something +which may interest architects and perhaps some other persons. I +once ascended the spire of Strasburg Cathedral, which is the +highest, I think, in Europe. It is a shaft of stone filigree-work, +frightfully open, so that the guide puts his arms behind you to +keep you from falling. To climb it is a noonday nightmare, and to +think of having climbed it crisps all the fifty-six joints of one's +twenty digits. While I was on it, "pinnacled dim in the intense +inane," a strong wind was blowing, and I felt sure that the spire +was rocking. It swayed back and forward like a stalk of rye or a +cat-o'nine-tails (bulrush) with a bobolink on it. I mentioned it +to the guide, and he said that the spire did really swing back and +forward,--I think he said some feet. + +Keep any line of knowledge ten years and some other line will +intersect it. Long afterwards I was hunting out a paper of +Dumeril's in an old journal,--the "Magazin Encyclopedique" for l'an +troisieme, (1795,) when I stumbled upon a brief article on the +vibrations of the spire of Strasburg Cathedral. A man can shake it +so that the movement shall be shown in a vessel of water nearly +seventy feet below the summit, and higher up the vibration is like +that of an earthquake. I have seen one of those wretched wooden +spires with which we very shabbily finish some of our stone +churches (thinking that the lidless blue eye of heaven cannot tell +the counterfeit we try to pass on it,) swinging like a reed, in a +wind, but one would hardly think of such a thing's happening in a +stone spire. Does the Bunker-Hill Monument bend in the blast like +a blade of grass? I suppose so. + +You see, of course, that I am talking in a cheap way;--perhaps we +will have some philosophy by and by;--let me work out this thin +mechanical vein.--I have something more to say about trees. I have +brought down this slice of hemlock to show you. Tree blew down in +my woods (that were) in 1852. Twelve feet and a half round, fair +girth;--nine feet, where I got my section, higher up. This is a +wedge, going to the centre, of the general shape of a slice of +apple-pie in a large and not opulent family. Length, about +eighteen inches. I have studied the growth of this tree by its +rings, and it is curious. Three hundred and forty-two rings. +Started, therefore, about 1510. The thickness of the rings tells +the rate at which it grew. For five or six years the rate was +slow,--then rapid for twenty years. A little before the year 1550 +it began to grow very slowly, and so continued for about seventy +years. In 1620 it took a new start and grew fast until 1714 then +for the most part slowly until 1786, when it started again and grew +pretty well and uniformly until within the last dozen years, when +it seems to have got on sluggishly. + +Look here. Here are some human lives laid down against the periods +of its growth, to which they corresponded. This is Shakspeare's. +The tree was seven inches in diameter when he was born; ten inches +when he died. A little less than ten inches when Milton was born; +seventeen when he died. Then comes a long interval, and this +thread marks out Johnson's life, during which the tree increased +from twenty-two to twenty-nine inches in diameter. Here is the +span of Napoleon's career;--the tree doesn't seem to have minded +it. + +I never saw the man yet who was not startled at looking on this +section. I have seen many wooden preachers,--never one like this. +How much more striking would be the calendar counted on the rings +of one of those awful trees which were standing when Christ was on +earth, and where that brief mortal life is chronicled with the +stolid apathy of vegetable being, which remembers all human history +as a thing of yesterday in its own dateless existence! + +I have something more to say about elms. A relative tells me there +is one of great glory in Andover, near Bradford. I have some +recollections of the former place, pleasant and other. [I wonder +if the old Seminary clock strikes as slowly as it used to. My +room-mate thought, when he first came, it was the bell tolling +deaths, and people's ages, as they do in the country. He swore +--(ministers' sons get so familiar with good words that they are apt +to handle them carelessly)--that the children were dying by the +dozen, of all ages, from one to twelve, and ran off next day in +recess, when it began to strike eleven, but was caught before the +clock got through striking.] At the foot of "the hill," down in +town, is, or was, a tidy old elm, which was said to have been +hooped with iron to protect it from Indian tomahawks, (Credat +Hahnemannus,) and to have grown round its hoops and buried them in +its wood. Of course, this is not the tree my relative means. + +Also, I have a very pretty letter from Norwich, in Connecticut, +telling me of two noble elms which are to be seen in that town. +One hundred and twenty-seven feet from bough-end to bough-end! +What do you say to that? And gentle ladies beneath it, that love +it and celebrate its praises! And that in a town of such supreme, +audacious, Alpine loveliness as Norwich!--Only the dear people +there must learn to call it Norridge, and not be misled by the mere +accident of spelling. + +NorWICH. +PorCHmouth. +CincinnatAH. + +What a sad picture of our civilization! + +I did not speak to you of the great tree on what used to be the +Colman farm, in Deerfield, simply because I had not seen it for +many years, and did not like to trust my recollection. But I had +it in memory, and even noted down, as one of the finest trees in +symmetry and beauty I had ever seen. I have received a document, +signed by two citizens of a neighboring town, certified by the +postmaster and a selectman, and these again corroborated, +reinforced, and sworn to by a member of that extraordinary +college-class to which it is the good fortune of my friend the +Professor to belong, who, though he has FORMERLY been a member of +Congress, is, I believe, fully worthy of confidence. The tree +"girts" eighteen and a half feet, and spreads over a hundred, and is +a real beauty. I hope to meet my friend under its branches yet; if we +don't have "youth at the prow," we will have "pleasure at the 'elm." + +And just now, again, I have got a letter about some grand willows +in Maine, and another about an elm in Wayland, but too late for +anything but thanks. + +[And this leads me to say, that I have received a great many +communications, in prose and verse since I began printing these +notes. The last came this very morning, in the shape of a neat and +brief poem, from New Orleans. I could not make any of them public, +though sometimes requested to do so. Some of them have given me +great pleasure, and encouraged me to believe I had friends whose +faces I had never seen. If you are pleased with anything a writer +says, and doubt whether to tell him of it, do not hesitate; a +pleasant word is a cordial to one, who perhaps thinks he is tiring +you, and so becomes tired himself. I purr very loud over a good, +honest letter that says pretty things to me.] + +--Sometimes very young persons send communications which they want +forwarded to editors; and these young persons do not always seem to +have right conceptions of these same editors, and of the public, +and of themselves. Here is a letter I wrote to one of these young +folks, but, on the whole, thought it best not to send. It is not +fair to single out one for such sharp advice, where there are +hundreds that are in need of it. + + +Dear Sir,--You seem to be somewhat, but not a great deal, wiser +than I was at your age. I don't wish to be understood as saying +too much, for I think, without committing myself to any opinion on +my present state, that I was not a Solomon at that stage of +development. + +You long to "leap at a single bound into celebrity." Nothing is so +common-place as to wish to be remarkable. Fame usually comes to +those who are thinking about something else,--very rarely to those +who say to themselves, "Go to, now, let us be a celebrated +individual!" The struggle for fame, as such, commonly ends in +notoriety;--that ladder is easy to climb, but it leads to the +pillory which is crowded with fools who could not hold their +tongues and rogues who could not hide their tricks. + +If you have the consciousness of genius, do something to show it. +The world is pretty quick, nowadays, to catch the flavor of true +originality; if you write anything remarkable, the magazines and +newspapers will find you out, as the school-boys find out where the +ripe apples and pears are. Produce anything really good, and an +intelligent editor will jump at it. Don't flatter yourself that +any article of yours is rejected because you are unknown to fame. +Nothing pleases an editor more than to get anything worth having +from a new hand. There is always a dearth of really fine articles +for a first-rate journal; for, of a hundred pieces received, ninety +are at or below the sea-level; some have water enough, but no head; +some head enough, but no water; only two or three are from full +reservoirs, high up that hill which is so hard to climb. + +You may have genius. The contrary is of course probable, but it is +not demonstrated. If you have, the world wants you more than you +want it. It has not only a desire, but a passion, for every spark +of genius that shows itself among us; there is not a bull-calf in +our national pasture that can bleat a rhyme but it is ten to one, +among his friends, and no takers, that he is the real, genuine, +no-mistake Osiris. + +Qu'est ce qu'il a fait? What has he done? That was Napoleon's +test. What have you done? Turn up the faces of your picture- +cards, my boy! You need not make mouths at the public because it +has not accepted you at your own fancy-valuation. Do the prettiest +thing you can and wait your time. + +For the verses you send me, I will not say they are hopeless, and I +dare not affirm that they show promise. I am not an editor, but I +know the standard of some editors. You must not expect to "leap +with a single bound" into the society of those whom it is not +flattery to call your betters. When "The Pactolian" has paid you +for a copy of verses,--(I can furnish you a list of alliterative +signatures, beginning with Annie Aureole and ending with Zoe +Zenith,)--when "The Rag-bag" has stolen your piece, after carefully +scratching your name out,--when "The Nut-cracker" has thought you +worth shelling, and strung the kernel of your cleverest poem, +--then, and not till then, you may consider the presumption against +you, from the fact of your rhyming tendency, as called in question, +and let our friends hear from you, if you think it worth while. +You may possibly think me too candid, and even accuse me of +incivility; but let me assure you that I am not half so +plain-spoken as Nature, nor half so rude as Time. If you prefer the +long jolting of public opinion to the gentle touch of friendship, try +it like a man. Only remember this,--that, if a bushel of potatoes is +shaken in a market-cart without springs to it, the small potatoes +always get to the bottom. Believe me, etc., etc. + + +I always think of verse-writers, when I am in this vein; for these +are by far the most exacting, eager, self-weighing, restless, +querulous, unreasonable literary persons one is like to meet with. +Is a young man in the habit of writing verses? Then the +presumption is that he is an inferior person. For, look you, there +are at least nine chances in ten that he writes POOR verses. Now +the habit of chewing on rhymes without sense and soul to match them +is, like that of using any other narcotic, at once a proof of +feebleness and a debilitating agent. A young man can get rid of +the presumption against him afforded by his writing verses only by +convincing us that they are verses worth writing. + +All this sounds hard and rough, but, observe, it is not addressed +to any individual, and of course does not refer to any reader of +these pages. I would always treat any given young person passing +through the meteoric showers which rain down on the brief period of +adolescence with great tenderness. God forgive us if we ever speak +harshly to young creatures on the strength of these ugly truths, +and so sooner or later, smite some tender-souled poet or poetess on +the lips who might have sung the world into sweet trances, had we +not silenced the matin-song in its first low breathings! Just as +my heart yearns over the unloved, just so it sorrows for +the ungifted who are doomed to the pangs of an undeceived +self-estimate. I have always tried to be gentle with the most +hopeless cases. My experience, however, has not been encouraging. + +--X. Y., aet. 18, a cheaply-got-up youth, with narrow jaws, and +broad, bony, cold, red hands, having been laughed at by the girls +in his village, and "got the mitten" (pronounced mittIn) two or +three times, falls to souling and controlling, and youthing and +truthing, in the newspapers. Sends me some strings of verses, +candidates for the Orthopedic Infirmary, all of them, in which I +learn for the millionth time one of the following facts: either +that something about a chime is sublime, or that something about +time is sublime, or that something about a chime is concerned with +time, or that something about a rhyme is sublime or concerned with +time or with a chime. Wishes my opinion of the same, with advice +as to his future course. + +What shall I do about it? Tell him the whole truth, and send him a +ticket of admission to the Institution for Idiots and Feeble-minded +Youth? One doesn't like to be cruel,--and yet one hates to lie. +Therefore one softens down the ugly central fact of donkeyism, +--recommends study of good models,--that writing verse should be an +incidental occupation only, not interfering with the hoe, the +needle, the lapstone, or the ledger,--and, above all that there +should be no hurry in printing what is written. Not the least use +in all this. The poetaster who has tasted type is done for. He is +like the man who has once been a candidate for the Presidency. He +feeds on the madder of his delusion all his days, and his very +bones grow red with the glow of his foolish fancy. One of these +young brains is like a bunch of India crackers; once touch fire to +it and it is best to keep hands off until it has done popping,--if +it ever stops. I have two letters on file; one is a pattern of +adulation, the other of impertinence. My reply to the first, +containing the best advice I could give, conveyed in courteous +language, had brought out the second. There was some sport in +this, but Dulness is not commonly a game fish, and only sulks after +he is struck. You may set it down as a truth which admits of few +exceptions, that those who ask your OPINION really want your +PRAISE, and will be contented with nothing less. + +There is another kind of application to which editors, or those +supposed to have access to them, are liable, and which often proves +trying and painful. One is appealed to in behalf of some person in +needy circumstances who wishes to make a living by the pen. A +manuscript accompanying the letter is offered for publication. It +is not commonly brilliant, too often lamentably deficient. If +Rachel's saying is true, that "fortune is the measure of +intelligence," then poverty is evidence of limited capacity which +it too frequently proves to be, notwithstanding a noble exception +here and there. Now an editor is a person under a contract with +the public to furnish them with the best things he can afford for +his money. Charity shown by the publication of an inferior article +would be like the generosity of Claude Duval and the other +gentlemen highwaymen, who pitied the poor so much they robbed the +rich to have the means of relieving them. + +Though I am not and never was an editor, I know something of the +trials to which they are submitted. They have nothing to do but to +develope enormous calluses at every point of contact with +authorship. Their business is not a matter of sympathy, but of +intellect. They must reject the unfit productions of those whom +they long to befriend, because it would be a profligate charity to +accept them. One cannot burn his house down to warm the hands even +of the fatherless and the widow. + + +THE PROFESSOR UNDER CHLOROFORM. + +--You haven't heard about my friend the Professor's first +experiment in the use of anaesthetics, have you? + +He was mightily pleased with the reception of that poem of his +about the chaise. He spoke to me once or twice about another poem +of similar character he wanted to read me, which I told him I would +listen to and criticize. + +One day, after dinner, he came in with his face tied up, looking +very red in the cheeks and heavy about the eyes.--Hy'r'ye?--he +said, and made for an arm-chair, in which he placed first his hat +and then his person, going smack through the crown of the former as +neatly as they do the trick at the circus. The Professor jumped at +the explosion as if he had sat down on one of those small CALTHROPS +our grandfathers used to sow round in the grass when there were +Indians about,--iron stars, each ray a rusty thorn an inch and a +half long,--stick through moccasins into feet,--cripple 'em on the +spot, and give 'em lockjaw in a day or two. + +At the same time he let off one of those big words which lie at the +bottom of the best man's vocabulary, but perhaps never turn up in +his life,--just as every man's hair MAY stand on end, but in most +men it never does. + +After he had got calm, he pulled out a sheet or two of manuscript, +together with a smaller scrap, on which, as he said, he had just +been writing an introduction or prelude to the main performance. A +certain suspicion had come into my mind that the Professor was not +quite right, which was confirmed by the way he talked; but I let +him begin. This is the way he read it:- + +Prelude. + +I'm the fellah that tole one day +The tale of the won'erful one-hoss-shay. +Wan' to hear another? Say. +--Funny, wasn'it? Made ME laugh,-- +I'm too modest, I am, by half,-- +Made me laugh'S THOUGH I SH'D SPLIT,-- +Cahn' a fellah like fellah's own wit?-- +--Fellahs keep sayin',--"Well, now that's nice; +Did it once, but cahn' do it twice."-- +Don' you b'lieve the'z no more fat; +Lots in the kitch'n 'z good 'z that. +Fus'-rate throw, 'n' no mistake,-- +Han' us the props for another shake;-- +Know I'll try, 'n' guess I'll win; +Here sh' goes for hit 'm ag'in! + +Here I thought it necessary to interpose.--Professor,--I said,--you +are inebriated. The style of what you call your "Prelude" shows +that it was written under cerebral excitement. Your articulation +is confused. You have told me three times in succession, in +exactly the same words, that I was the only true friend you had in +the world that you would unbutton your heart to. You smell +distinctly and decidedly of spirits.--I spoke, and paused; tender, +but firm. + +Two large tears orbed themselves beneath the Professor's lids,--in +obedience to the principle of gravitation celebrated in that +delicious bit of bladdery bathos, "The very law that moulds a +tear," with which the "Edinburgh Review" attempted to put down +Master George Gordon when that young man was foolishly trying to +make himself conspicuous. + +One of these tears peeped over the edge of the lid until it lost +its balance,--slid an inch and waited for reinforcements,--swelled +again,--rolled down a little further,--stopped,--moved on,--and at +last fell on the back of the Professor's hand. He held it up for +me to look at, and lifted his eyes, brimful, till they met mine. + +I couldn't stand it,--I always break down when folks cry in my +face,--so I hugged him, and said he was a dear old boy, and asked +him kindly what was the matter with him, and what made him smell so +dreadfully strong of spirits. + +Upset his alcohol lamp,--he said,--and spilt the alcohol on his +legs. That was it.--But what had he been doing to get his head +into such a state?--had he really committed an excess? What was +the matter?--Then it came out that he had been taking chloroform to +have a tooth out, which had left him in a very queer state, in +which he had written the "Prelude" given above, and under the +influence of which he evidently was still. + +I took the manuscript from his hands and read the following +continuation of the lines he had begun to read me, while he made up +for two or three nights' lost sleep as he best might. + + +PARSON TURELL'S LEGACY: +OR THE PRESIDENT'S OLD ARM-CHAIR. +A MATHEMATICAL STORY. + +Facts respecting an old arm-chair. +At Cambridge. Is kept in the College there. +Seems but little the worse for wear. +That's remarkable when I say +It was old in President Holyoke's day. +(One of his boys, perhaps you know, +Died, AT ONE HUNDRED, years ago.) +HE took lodging for rain or shine +Under green bed-clothes in '69. + +Know old Cambridge? Hope you do.-- +Born there? Don't say so! I was, too. +(Born in a house with a gambrel-roof,-- +Standing still, if you must have proof.-- +"Gambrel?--Gambrel?"--Let me beg +You'll look at a horse's hinder leg,-- +First great angle above the hoof,-- +That's the gambrel; hence gambrel-roof.) +--Nicest place that ever was seen,-- +Colleges red and Common green, +Sidewalks brownish with trees between. +Sweetest spot beneath the skies +When the canker-worms don't rise,-- +When the dust, that sometimes flies +Into your mouth and ears and eyes. +In a quiet slumber lies, +NOT in the shape of unbaked pies +Such as barefoot children prize. + +A kind of harber it seems to be, +Facing the flow of a boundless sea. +Rows of gray old Tutors stand +Ranged like rocks above the sand; +Rolling beneath them, soft and green, +Breaks the tide of bright sixteen,-- +One wave, two waves, three waves, four, +Sliding up the sparkling floor; +Then it ebbs to flow no more, +Wandering off from shore to shore +With its freight of golden ore! +--Pleasant place for boys to play;-- +Better keep your girls away; +Hearts get rolled as pebbles do +Which countless fingering waves pursue, +And every classic beach is strown +With heart-shaped pebbles of blood-red stone. + +But this is neither here nor there;-- +I'm talking about an old arm-chair. +You've heard, no doubt, of PARSON TURELL? +Over at Medford he used to dwell; +Married one of the Mathers' folk; +Got with his wife a chair of oak,-- +Funny old chair, with seat like wedge, +Sharp behind and broad front edge,-- +One of the oddest of human things, +Turned all over with knobs and rings,-- +But heavy, and wide, and deep, and grand,-- +Fit for the worthies of the land,-- +Chief-Justice Sewall a cause to try in, +Or Cotton Mather to sit--and lie--in. +--Parson Turell bequeathed the same +To a certain student,--SMITH by name; +These were the terms, as we are told: +"Saide Smith saide Chaire to have and holde; +When he doth graduate, then to passe +To ye oldest Youth in ye Senior Classe. +On Payment of"--(naming a certain sum)-- +"By him to whom ye Chaire shall come; +He to ye oldest Senior next, +And soe forever,"--(thus runs the text,)-- +"But one Crown lesse then he gave to claime, +That being his Debte for use of same." + +SMITH transferred it to one of the BROWNS, +And took his money,--five silver crowns. +BROWN delivered it up to MOORE, +Who paid, it is plain, not five, but four. +MOORE made over the chair to LEE, +Who gave him crowns of silver three. +LEE conveyed it unto DREW, +And now the payment, of course, was two. +DREW gave up the chair to DUNN,-- +All he got, as you see, was one. +DUNN released the chair to HALL, +And got by the bargain no crown at all. +--And now it passed to a second BROWN, +Who took it, and likewise CLAIMED A CROWN. +When BROWN conveyed it unto WARE, +Having had one crown, to make it fair, +He paid him two crowns to take the chair; +And WARE, being honest, (as all Wares be,) +He paid one POTTER, who took it, three. +Four got ROBINSON; five got DIX; +JOHNSON primus demanded six; +And so the sum kept gathering still +Till after the battle of Bunker's Hill +--When paper money became so cheap, +Folks wouldn't count it, but said "a heap," + +A certain RICHARDS, the books declare, +(A. M. in '90? I've looked with care +Through the Triennial,--NAME NOT THERE.) +This person, Richards, was offered then +Eight score pounds, but would have ten; +Nine, I think, was the sum he took,-- +Not quite certain,--but see the book. +--By and by the wars were still, +But nothing had altered the Parson's will. +The old arm-chair was solid yet, +But saddled with such a monstrous debt! +Things grew quite too bad to bear, +Paying such sums to get rid of the chair! +But dead men's fingers hold awful tight, +And there was the will in black and white, +Plain enough for a child to spell. +What should be done no man could tell, +For the chair was a kind of nightmare curse, +And every season but made it worse. + +As a last resort, to clear the doubt, +They got old GOVERNOR HANCOCK out. +The Governor came, with his Light-horse Troop +And his mounted truckmen, all cock-a-hoop; +Halberds glittered and colors flew, +French horns whinnied and trumpets blew, +The yellow fifes whistled between their teeth +And the bumble-bee bass-drums boomed beneath; +So he rode with all his band, +Till the President met him, cap in hand. +--The Governor "hefted" the crowns, and said,-- +"A will is a will, and the Parson's dead." +The Governor hefted the crowns. Said he,-- +"There is your p'int. And here's my fee. +These are the terms you must fulfil,-- +On such conditions I BREAK THE WILL!" +The Governor mentioned what these should be. +(Just wait a minute and then you'll see.) +The President prayed. Then all was still, +And the Governor rose and BROKE THE WILL! +--"About those conditions?" Well, now you go +And do as I tell you, and then you'll know. +Once a year, on Commencement-day, +If you'll only take the pains to stay, +You'll see the President in the CHAIR, +Likewise the Governor sitting there. +The President rises; both old and young +May hear his speech in a foreign tongue, +The meaning whereof, as lawyers swear, +Is this: Can I keep this old arm-chair? +And then his Excellency bows, +As much as to say that he allows. +The Vice-Gub. next is called by name; +He bows like t'other, which means the same. +And all the officers round 'em bow, +As much as to say that THEY allow. +And a lot of parchments about the chair +Are handed to witnesses then and there, +And then the lawyers hold it clear +That the chair is safe for another year. + +God bless you, Gentlemen! Learn to give +Money to colleges while you live. +Don't be silly and think you'll try +To bother the colleges, when you die, +With codicil this, and codicil that, +That Knowledge may starve while Law grows fat; +For there never was pitcher that wouldn't spill, +And there's always a flaw in a donkey's will! + + +--Hospitality is a good deal a matter of latitude, I suspect. The +shade of a palm-tree serves an African for a hut; his dwelling is +all door and no walls; everybody can come in. To make a morning +call on an Esquimaux acquaintance, one must creep through a long +tunnel; his house is all walls and no door, except such a one as an +apple with a worm-hole has. One might, very probably, trace a +regular gradation between these two extremes. In cities where the +evenings are generally hot, the people have porches at their doors, +where they sit, and this is, of course, a provocative to the +interchange of civilities. A good deal, which in colder regions is +ascribed to mean dispositions, belongs really to mean temperature. + +Once in a while, even in our Northern cities, at noon, in a very +hot summer's day, one may realize, by a sudden extension in his +sphere of consciousness, how closely he is shut up for the most +part.--Do you not remember something like this? July, between 1 +and 2, P. M., Fahrenheit 96 degrees, or thereabout. Windows all +gaping, like the mouths of panting dogs. Long, stinging cry of a +locust comes in from a tree, half a mile off; had forgotten there +was such a tree. Baby's screams from a house several blocks +distant;--never knew there were any babies in the neighborhood +before. Tinman pounding something that clatters dreadfully,--very +distinct, but don't remember any tinman's shop near by. Horses +stamping on pavement to get off flies. When you hear these four +sounds, you may set it down as a warm day. Then it is that one +would like to imitate the mode of life of the native at Sierra +Leone, as somebody has described it: stroll into the market in +natural costume,--buy a water-melon for a halfpenny,--split it, and +scoop out the middle,--sit down in one half of the empty rind, clap +the other on one's head, and feast upon the pulp. + +--I see some of the London journals have been attacking some of +their literary people for lecturing, on the ground of its being a +public exhibition of themselves for money. A popular author can +print his lecture; if he deliver it, it is a case of quaestum +corpore, or making profit of his person. None but "snobs" do that. +Ergo, etc. To this I reply,--Negatur minor. Her Most Gracious +Majesty, the Queen, exhibits herself to the public as a part of the +service for which she is paid. We do not consider it low-bred in +her to pronounce her own speech, and should prefer it so to hearing +it from any other person, or reading it. His Grace and his +Lordship exhibit themselves very often for popularity, and their +houses every day for money.--No, if a man shows himself other than +he is, if he belittles himself before an audience for hire, then he +acts unworthily. But a true word, fresh from the lips of a true +man, is worth paying for, at the rate of eight dollars a day, or +even of fifty dollars a lecture. The taunt must be an outbreak of +jealousy against the renowned authors who have the audacity to be +also orators. The sub-lieutenants (of the press) stick a too +popular writer and speaker with an epithet in England, instead of +with a rapier, as in France.--Poh! All England is one great +menagerie, and, all at once, the jackal, who admires the gilded +cage of the royal beast, must protest against the vulgarity of the +talking-bird's and the nightingale's being willing to become a part +of the exhibition! + + +THE LONG PATH. +(Last of the Parentheses.) + + +Yes, that was my last walk with the SCHOOLMISTRESS. It happened to +be the end of a term; and before the next began, a very nice young +woman, who had been her assistant, was announced as her successor, +and she was provided for elsewhere. So it was no longer the +schoolmistress that I walked with, but--Let us not be in unseemly +haste. I shall call her the schoolmistress still; some of you love +her under that name. + +When it became known among the boarders that two of their number +had joined hands to walk down the long path of life side by side, +there was, as you may suppose, no small sensation. I confess I +pitied our landlady. It took her all of a suddin,--she said. Had +not known that we was keepin company, and never mistrusted anything +particular. Ma'am was right to better herself. Didn't look very +rugged to take care of a femily, but could get hired haalp, she +calc'lated.--The great maternal instinct came crowding up in her +soul just then, and her eyes wandered until they settled on her +daughter. + +--No, poor, dear woman,--that could not have been. But I am +dropping one of my internal tears for you, with this pleasant smile +on my face all the time. + +The great mystery of God's providence is the permitted crushing out +of flowering instincts. Life is maintained by the respiration of +oxygen and of sentiments. In the long catalogue of scientific +cruelties there is hardly anything quite so painful to think of as +that experiment of putting an animal under the bell of an air-pump +and exhausting the air from it. [I never saw the accursed trick +performed. Laus Deo!] There comes a time when the souls of human +beings, women, perhaps, more even than men, begin to faint for the +atmosphere of the affections they were made to breathe. Then it is +that Society places its transparent bell-glass over the young woman +who is to be the subject of one of its fatal experiments. The +element by which only the heart lives is sucked out of her +crystalline prison. Watch her through its transparent walls;--her +bosom is heaving; but it is in a vacuum. Death is no riddle, +compared to this. I remember a poor girl's story in the "Book of +Martyrs." The "dry-pan and the gradual fire" were the images that +frightened her most. How many have withered and wasted under as +slow a torment in the walls of that larger Inquisition which we +call Civilization! + +Yes, my surface-thought laughs at you, you foolish, plain, +overdressed, mincing, cheaply-organized, self-saturated young +person, whoever you may be, now reading this,--little thinking you +are what I describe, and in blissful unconsciousness that you are +destined to the lingering asphyxia of soul which is the lot of such +multitudes worthier than yourself. But it is only my surface- +thought which laughs. For that great procession of the UNLOVED, +who not only wear the crown of thorns, but must hide it under the +locks of brown or gray,--under the snowy cap, under the chilling +turban,--hide it even from themselves,--perhaps never know they +wear it, though it kills them,--there is no depth of tenderness in +my nature that Pity has not sounded. Somewhere,--somewhere,--love +is in store for them,--the universe must not be allowed to +fool them so cruelly. What infinite pathos in the small, +half-unconscious artifices by which unattractive young persons seek +to recommend themselves to the favor of those towards whom our dear +sisters, the unloved, like the rest, are impelled by their God-given +instincts! + +Read what the singing-women--one to ten thousand of the suffering +women--tell us, and think of the griefs that die unspoken! Nature +is in earnest when she makes a woman; and there are women enough +lying in the next churchyard with very commonplace blue +slate-stones at their head and feet, for whom it was just as true +that "all sounds of life assumed one tone of love," as for Letitia +Landon, of whom Elizabeth Browning said it; but she could give words +to her grief, and they could not.--Will you hear a few stanzas of +mine? + + +THE VOICELESS. + +We count the broken lyres that rest +Where the sweet wailing singers slumber,-- +But o'er their silent sister's breast +The wild flowers who will stoop to number? +A few can touch the magic string, +And noisy Fame is proud to win them;-- +Alas for those that never sing, +But die with all their music in them! + +Nay, grieve not for the dead alone +Whose song has told their hearts' sad story,-- +Weep for the voiceless, who have known +The cross without the crown of glory! +Not where Leucadian breezes sweep +O'er Sappho's memory-haunted billow, +But where the glistening night-dews weep +On nameless sorrow's churchyard pillow. + +O hearts that break and give no sign +Save whitening lip and fading tresses, +Till Death pours out his cordial wine +Slow-dropped from Misery's crushing presses,-- +If singing breath or echoing chord +To every hidden pang were given, +What endless melodies were poured, +As sad as earth, as sweet as heaven! + + +I hope that our landlady's daughter is not so badly off, after all. +That young man from another city who made the remark which you +remember about Boston State-house and Boston folks, has appeared at +our table repeatedly of late, and has seemed to me rather attentive +to this young lady. Only last evening I saw him leaning over her +while she was playing the accordion,--indeed, I undertook to join +them in a song, and got as far as "Come rest in this boo-oo," when, +my voice getting tremulous, I turned off, as one steps out of a +procession, and left the basso and soprano to finish it. I see no +reason why this young woman should not be a very proper match for a +man that laughs about Boston State-house. He can't be very +particular. + +The young fellow whom I have so often mentioned was a little free +in his remarks, but very good-natured.--Sorry to have you go,--he +said.--School-ma'am made a mistake not to wait for me. Haven't +taken anything but mournin' fruit at breakfast since I heard of +it.--MOURNING fruit,--said I,--what's that?--Huckleberries and +blackberries,--said he;--couldn't eat in colors, raspberries, +currants, and such, after a solemn thing like this happening.--The +conceit seemed to please the young fellow. If you will believe it, +when we came down to breakfast the next morning, he had carried it +out as follows. You know those odious little "saas-plates" that +figure so largely at boarding-houses, and especially at taverns, +into which a strenuous attendant female trowels little dabs, sombre +of tint and heterogeneous of composition, which it makes you feel +homesick to look at, and into which you poke the elastic coppery +tea-spoon with the air of a cat dipping her foot into a wash-tub, +--(not that I mean to say anything against them, for, when they are +of tinted porcelain or starry many-faceted crystal, and hold clean +bright berries, or pale virgin honey, or "lucent syrups tinct +with cinnamon," and the teaspoon is of white silver, with the +Tower-stamp, solid, but not brutally heavy,--as people in the green +stage of millionism will have them,--I can dally with their amber +semi-fluids or glossy spherules without a shiver,)--you know these +small, deep dishes, I say. When we came down the next morning, each +of these (two only excepted) was covered with a broad leaf. On +lifting this, each boarder found a small heap of solemn black +huckleberries. But one of those plates held red currants, and was +covered with a red rose; the other held white currants, and was +covered with a white rose. There was a laugh at this at first, and +then a short silence, and I noticed that her lip trembled, and the +old gentleman opposite was in trouble to get at his bandanna +handkerchief + +--"What was the use in waiting? We should be too late for +Switzerland, that season, if we waited much longer."--The hand I +held trembled in mine, and the eyes fell meekly, as Esther bowed +herself before the feet of Ahasuerus.--She had been reading that +chapter, for she looked up,--if there was a film of moisture over +her eyes there was also the faintest shadow of a distant smile +skirting her lips, but not enough to accent the dimples,--and said, +in her pretty, still way,--"If it please the king, and if I have +found favor in his sight, and the thing seem right before the king, +and I be pleasing in his eyes"-- + +I don't remember what King Ahasuerus did or said when Esther got +just to that point of her soft, humble words,--but I know what I +did. That quotation from Scripture was cut short, anyhow. We came +to a compromise on the great question, and the time was settled for +the last day of summer. + +In the mean time, I talked on with our boarders, much as usual, as +you may see by what I have reported. I must say, I was pleased +with a certain tenderness they all showed toward us, after the +first excitement of the news was over. It came out in trivial +matters,--but each one, in his or her way, manifested kindness. +Our landlady, for instance, when we had chickens, sent the LIVER +instead of the GIZZARD, with the wing, for the schoolmistress. +This was not an accident; the two are never mistaken, though some +landladies APPEAR as if they did not know the difference. The +whole of the company were even more respectfully attentive to my +remarks than usual. There was no idle punning, and very little +winking on the part of that lively young gentleman who, as the +reader may remember, occasionally interposed some playful question +or remark, which could hardly be considered relevant,--except when +the least allusion was made to matrimony, when he would look at the +landlady's daughter, and wink with both sides of his face, until +she would ask what he was pokin' his fun at her for, and if he +wasn't ashamed of himself. In fact, they all behaved very +handsomely, so that I really felt sorry at the thought of leaving +my boarding-house. + +I suppose you think, that, because I lived at a plain widow-woman's +plain table, I was of course more or less infirm in point of +worldly fortune. You may not be sorry to learn, that, though not +what GREAT MERCHANTS call very rich, I was comfortable, +--comfortable,--so that most of those moderate luxuries I described +in my verses on CONTENTMENT--MOST of them, I say--were within our +reach, if we chose to have them. But I found out that the +schoolmistress had a vein of charity about her, which had hitherto +been worked on a small silver and copper basis, which made her +think less, perhaps, of luxuries than even I did,--modestly as I +have expressed my wishes. + +It is a rather pleasant thing to tell a poor young woman, whom one +has contrived to win without showing his rent-roll, that she has +found what the world values so highly, in following the lead of her +affections. That was an enjoyment I was now ready for. + +I began abruptly:--Do you know that you are a rich young person? + +I know that I am very rich,--she said.--Heaven has given me more +than I ever asked; for I had not thought love was ever meant for +me. + +It was a woman's confession, and her voice fell to a whisper as it +threaded the last words. + +I don't mean that,--I said,--you blessed little saint and seraph! +--if there's an angel missing in the New Jerusalem, inquire for her +at this boarding house!--I don't mean that! I mean that I--that +is, you--am--are--confound it!--I mean that you'll be what most +people call a lady of fortune. And I looked full in her eyes for +the effect of the announcement. + +There wasn't any. She said she was thankful that I had what would +save me from drudgery, and that some other time I should tell her +about it.--I never made a greater failure in an attempt to produce +a sensation. + +So the last day of summer came. It was our choice to go to the +church, but we had a kind of reception at the boarding-house. The +presents were all arranged, and among them none gave more pleasure +than the modest tributes of our fellow-boarders,--for there was not +one, I believe, who did not send something. The landlady would +insist on making an elegant bride-cake, with her own hands; to +which Master Benjamin Franklin wished to add certain embellishments +out of his private funds,--namely, a Cupid in a mouse-trap, done in +white sugar, and two miniature flags with the stars and stripes, +which had a very pleasing effect, I assure you. The landlady's +daughter sent a richly bound copy of Tupper's Poems. On a blank +leaf was the following, written in a very delicate and careful +hand:- + + +Presented to . . . by . . . +On the eve ere her union in holy matrimony. +May sunshine ever beam o'er her! + + +Even the poor relative thought she must do something, and sent a +copy of "The Whole Duty of Man," bound in very attractive +variegated sheepskin, the edges nicely marbled. From the +divinity-student came the loveliest English edition of "Keble's +Christian Year." I opened it, when it came, to the FOURTH SUNDAY +IN LENT, and read that angelic poem, sweeter than anything I can +remember since Xavier's "My God, I love thee."--I am not a +Churchman,--I don't believe in planting oaks in flower-pots,--but +such a poem as "The Rosebud" makes one's heart a proselyte to the +culture it grows from. Talk about it as much as you like,--one's +breeding shows itself nowhere more than in his religion. A man +should be a gentleman in his hymns and prayers; the fondness for +"scenes," among vulgar saints, contrasts so meanly with that-- + + +"God only and good angels look +Behind the blissful scene,"- + + +and that other,-- + + +"He could not trust his melting soul +But in his Maker's sight,"-- + + +that I hope some of them will see this, and read the poem, and +profit by it. + +My laughing and winking young friend undertook to procure and +arrange the flowers for the table, and did it with immense zeal. I +never saw him look happier than when he came in, his hat saucily on +one side, and a cheroot in his mouth, with a huge bunch of +tea-roses, which he said were for "Madam." + +One of the last things that came was an old square box, smelling of +camphor, tied and sealed. It bore, in faded ink, the marks, +"Calcutta, 1805." On opening it, we found a white Cashmere shawl +with a very brief note from the dear old gentleman opposite, saying +that he had kept this some years, thinking he might want it, and +many more, not knowing what to do with it,--that he had never seen +it unfolded since he was a young supercargo,--and now, if she would +spread it on her shoulders, it would make him feel young to look at +it. + +Poor Bridget, or Biddy, our red-armed maid of all work! What must +she do but buy a small copper breast-pin and put it under +"Schoolma'am's" plate that morning, at breakfast? And Schoolma'am +would wear it,--though I made her cover it, as well as I could, +with a tea-rose. + +It was my last breakfast as a boarder, and I could not leave them +in utter silence. + +Good-by,--I said,--my dear friends, one and all of you! I have +been long with you, and I find it hard parting. I have to thank +you for a thousand courtesies, and above all for the patience and +indulgence with which you have listened to me when I have tried to +instruct or amuse you. My friend the Professor (who, as well as my +friend the Poet, is unavoidably absent on this interesting +occasion) has given me reason to suppose that he would occupy my +empty chair about the first of January next. If he comes among +you, be kind to him, as you have been to me. May the Lord bless +you all!--And we shook hands all round the table. + +Half an hour afterwards the breakfast things and the cloth were +gone. I looked up and down the length of the bare boards over +which I had so often uttered my sentiments and experiences--and +--Yes, I am a man, like another. + +All sadness vanished, as, in the midst of these old friends of +mine, whom you know, and others a little more up in the world, +perhaps, to whom I have not introduced you, I took the +schoolmistress before the altar from the hands of the old gentleman +who used to sit opposite, and who would insist on giving her away. + +And now we two are walking the long path in peace together. The +"schoolmistress" finds her skill in teaching called for again, +without going abroad to seek little scholars. Those visions of +mine have all come true. + +I hope you all love me none the less for anything I have told you. +Farewell! + + + + + + +THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE + +by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. + + +PREFACE TO REVISED EDITION. + +The reader of to-day will not forget, I trust, that it is nearly a +quarter of a century since these papers were written. Statements which +were true then are not necessarily true now. Thus, the speed of the +trotting horse has been so much developed that the record of the year +when the fastest time to that date was given must be very considerably +altered, as may be seen by referring to a note on page 49 of the +"Autocrat." No doubt many other statements and opinions might be more or +less modified if I were writing today instead of having written before +the war, when the world and I were both more than a score of years +younger. + +These papers followed close upon the track of the "Autocrat." They had +to endure the trial to which all second comers are subjected, which is a +formidable ordeal for the least as well as the greatest. Paradise +Regained and the Second Part of Faust are examples which are enough to +warn every one who has made a jingle fair hit with his arrow of the +danger of missing when he looses "his fellow of the selfsame flight." + +There is good reason why it should be so. The first juice that runs of +itself from the grapes comes from the heart of the fruit, and tastes of +the pulp only; when the grapes are squeezed in the press the flow betrays +the flavor of the skin. If there is any freshness in the original idea +of the work, if there is any individuality in the method or style of a +new author, or of an old author on a new track, it will have lost much of +its first effect when repeated. Still, there have not been wanting +readers who have preferred this second series of papers to the first. +The new papers were more aggressive than the earlier ones, and for that +reason found a heartier welcome in some quarters, and met with a sharper +antagonism in others. It amuses me to look back on some of the attacks +they called forth. Opinions which do not excite the faintest show of +temper at this time from those who do not accept them were treated as if +they were the utterances of a nihilist incendiary. It required the +exercise of some forbearance not to recriminate. + +How a stray sentence, a popular saying, the maxim of some wise man, a +line accidentally fallen upon and remembered, will sometimes help one +when he is all ready to be vexed or indignant! One day, in the time when +I was young or youngish, I happened to open a small copy of "Tom Jones," +and glance at the title-page. There was one of those little engravings +opposite, which bore the familiar name of "T. Uwins," as I remember it, +and under it the words "Mr. Partridge bore all this patiently." How many +times, when, after rough usage from ill-mannered critics, my own +vocabulary of vituperation was simmering in such a lively way that it +threatened to boil and lift its lid and so boil over, those words have +calmed the small internal effervescence! There is very little in them +and very little of them; and so there is not much in a linchpin +considered by itself, but it often keeps a wheel from coming off and +prevents what might be a catastrophe. The chief trouble in offering such +papers as these to the readers of to-day is that their heresies have +become so familiar among intelligent people that they have too +commonplace an aspect. All the lighthouses and land-marks of belief bear +so differently from the way in which they presented themselves when these +papers were written that it is hard to recognize that we and our +fellow-passengers are still in the same old vessel sailing the same +unfathomable sea and bound to the same as yet unseen harbor. + +But after all, there is not enough theology, good or bad, in these papers +to cause them to be inscribed on the Protestant Index Expurgatorius; and +if they are medicated with a few questionable dogmas or antidogmas, the +public has become used to so much rougher treatments, that what was once +an irritant may now act as an anodyne, and the reader may nod over pages +which, when they were first written, would have waked him into a paroxysm +of protest and denunciation. + +November, 1882. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION + +This book is one of those which, if it lives for a number of decades, and +if it requires any Preface at all, wants a new one every ten years. The +first Preface to a book is apt to be explanatory, perhaps apologetic, in +the expectation of attacks from various quarters. If the book is in some +points in advance of public opinion, it is natural that the writer should +try to smooth the way to the reception of his more or less aggressive +ideas. He wishes to convince, not to offend,--to obtain a hearing for +his thought, not to stir up angry opposition in those who do not accept +it. There is commonly an anxious look about a first Preface. The author +thinks he shall be misapprehended about this or that matter, that his +well-meant expressions will probably be invidiously interpreted by those +whom he looks upon as prejudiced critics, and if he deals with living +questions that he will be attacked as a destructive by the conservatives +and reproached for his timidity by the noisier radicals. The first +Preface, therefore, is likely to be the weakest part of a work containing +the thoughts of an honest writer. + +After a time the writer has cooled down from his excitement,--has got +over his apprehensions, is pleased to find that his book is still read, +and that he must write a new Preface. He comes smiling to his task. How +many things have explained themselves in the ten or twenty or thirty +years since he came before his untried public in those almost plaintive +paragraphs in which he introduced himself to his readers,--for the +Preface writer, no matter how fierce a combatant he may prove, comes on +to the stage with his shield on his right arm and his sword in his left +hand. + +The Professor at the Breakfast-Table came out in the "Atlantic Monthly" +and introduced itself without any formal Preface. A quarter of a century +later the Preface of 1882, which the reader has just had laid before him, +was written. There is no mark of worry, I think, in that. Old opponents +had come up and shaken hands with the author they had attacked or +denounced. Newspapers which had warned their subscribers against him +were glad to get him as a contributor to their columns. A great change +had come over the community with reference to their beliefs. Christian +believers were united as never before in the feeling that, after all, +their common object was to elevate the moral and religious standard of +humanity. But within the special compartments of the great Christian +fold the marks of division have pronounced themselves in the most +unmistakable manner. As an example we may take the lines of cleavage +which have shown themselves in the two great churches, the Congregational +and the Presbyterian, and the very distinct fissure which is manifest in +the transplanted Anglican church of this country. Recent circumstances +have brought out the fact of the great change in the dogmatic communities +which has been going on silently but surely. The licensing of a +missionary, the transfer of a Professor from one department to another, +the election of a Bishop,--each of these movements furnishes evidence +that there is no such thing as an air-tight reservoir of doctrinal +finalities. + +The folding-doors are wide open to every Protestant to enter all the +privileged precincts and private apartments of the various exclusive +religious organizations. We may demand the credentials of every creed +and catechise all the catechisms. So we may discuss the gravest +questions unblamed over our morning coffee-cups or our evening tea-cups. +There is no rest for the Protestant until he gives up his legendary +anthropology and all its dogmatic dependencies. + +It is only incidentally, however, that the Professor at the +Breakfast-Table handles matters which are the subjects of religious +controversy. The reader who is sensitive about having his fixed beliefs +dealt with as if they were open to question had better skip the pages +which look as if they would disturb his complacency. "Faith" is the most +precious of possessions, and it dislikes being meddled with. It means, +of course, self-trust,--that is, a belief in the value of our, own +opinion of a doctrine, of a church, of a religion, of a Being, a belief +quite independent of any evidence that we can bring to convince a jury of +our fellow beings. Its roots are thus inextricably entangled with those +of self-love and bleed as mandrakes were said to, when pulled up as +weeds. Some persons may even at this late day take offence at a few +opinions expressed in the following pages, but most of these passages +will be read without loss of temper by those who disagree with them, and +by-and-by they may be found too timid and conservative for intelligent +readers, if they are still read by any. + +BEVERLY FARM, MASS., June 18, 1891. +O. W. H. + + THE PROFESSOR + + AT THE + BREAKFAST-TABLE. + + What he said, what he heard, and what he saw. + + + + +I + +I intended to have signalized my first appearance by a certain large +statement, which I flatter myself is the nearest approach to a universal +formula, of life yet promulgated at this breakfast-table. It would have +had a grand effect. For this purpose I fixed my eyes on a certain +divinity-student, with the intention of exchanging a few phrases, and +then forcing my court-card, namely, The great end of being.--I will thank +you for the sugar,--I said.--Man is a dependent creature. + +It is a small favor to ask,--said the divinity-student,--and passed the +sugar to me. + +--Life is a great bundle of little things,--I said. + +The divinity-student smiled, as if that were the concluding epigram of +the sugar question. + +You smile,--I said.--Perhaps life seems to you a little bundle of great +things? + +The divinity-student started a laugh, but suddenly reined it back with a +pull, as one throws a horse on his haunches.--Life is a great bundle of +great things,--he said. + +(NOW, THEN!) The great end of being, after all, is.... + +Hold on!--said my neighbor, a young fellow whose name seems to be John, +and nothing else,--for that is what they all call him,--hold on! the +Sculpin is go'n' to say somethin'. + +Now the Sculpin (Cottus Virginianus) is a little water-beast which +pretends to consider itself a fish, and, under that pretext, hangs about +the piles upon which West-Boston Bridge is built, swallowing the bait and +hook intended for flounders. On being drawn from the water, it exposes +an immense head, a diminutive bony carcass, and a surface so full of +spines, ridges, ruffles, and frills, that the naturalists have not been +able to count them without quarrelling about the number, and that the +colored youth, whose sport they spoil, do not like to touch them, and +especially to tread on them, unless they happen to have shoes on, to +cover the thick white soles of their broad black feet. + +When, therefore, I heard the young fellow's exclamation, I looked round +the table with curiosity to see what it meant. At the further end of it +I saw a head, and a--a small portion of a little deformed body, mounted +on a high chair, which brought the occupant up to a fair level enough for +him to get at his food. His whole appearance was so grotesque, I felt +for a minute as if there was a showman behind him who would pull him down +presently and put up Judy, or the hangman, or the Devil, or some other +wooden personage of the famous spectacle. I contrived to lose the first +of his sentence, but what I heard began so: + +--by the Frog-Pond, when there were frogs in and the folks used to come +down from the tents on section and Independence days with their pails to +get water to make egg-pop with. Born in Boston; went to school in Boston +as long as the boys would let me.--The little man groaned, turned, as if +to look around, and went on.--Ran away from school one day to see +Phillips hung for killing Denegri with a logger-head. That was in flip +days, when there were always two three loggerheads in the fire. I'm a +Boston boy, I tell you,--born at North End, and mean to be buried on +Copp's Hill, with the good old underground people,--the Worthylakes, and +the rest of 'em. Yes,--up on the old hill, where they buried Captain +Daniel Malcolm in a stone grave, ten feet deep, to keep him safe from the +red-coats, in those old times when the world was frozen up tight and +there was n't but one spot open, and that was right over Faneuil +all,--and black enough it looked, I tell you! There 's where my bones +shall lie, Sir, and rattle away when the big guns go off at the Navy Yard +opposite! You can't make me ashamed of the old place! Full crooked +little streets;--I was born and used to run round in one of 'em-- + +--I should think so,--said that young man whom I hear them call +"John,"--softly, not meaning to be heard, nor to be cruel, but thinking +in a half-whisper, evidently.--I should think so; and got kinked up, +turnin' so many corners.--The little man did not hear what was said, but +went on,-- + +--full of crooked little streets; but I tell you Boston has opened, and +kept open, more turnpikes that lead straight to free thought and free +speech and free deeds than any other city of live men or dead men,--I +don't care how broad their streets are, nor how high their steeples! + +--How high is Bosting meet'n'-house?--said a person with black whiskers +and imperial, a velvet waistcoat, a guard-chain rather too massive, and a +diamond pin so very large that the most trusting nature might confess an +inward suggestion,--of course, nothing amounting to a suspicion. For +this is a gentleman from a great city, and sits next to the landlady's +daughter, who evidently believes in him, and is the object of his +especial attention. + +How high?--said the little man.--As high as the first step of the stairs +that lead to the New Jerusalem. Is n't that high enough? + +It is,--I said.--The great end of being is to harmonize man with the +order of things, and the church has been a good pitch-pipe, and may be so +still. But who shall tune the pitch-pipe? Quis cus-(On the whole, as +this quotation was not entirely new, and, being in a foreign language, +might not be familiar to all the boarders, I thought I would not finish +it.) + +--Go to the Bible!--said a sharp voice from a sharp-faced, sharp-eyed, +sharp-elbowed, strenuous-looking woman in a black dress, appearing as if +it began as a piece of mourning and perpetuated itself as a bit of +economy. + +You speak well, Madam,--I said;--yet there is room for a gloss or +commentary on what you say. "He who would bring back the wealth of the +Indies must carry out the wealth of the Indies." What you bring away +from the Bible depends to some extent on what you carry to it.--Benjamin +Franklin! Be so good as to step up to my chamber and bring me down the +small uncovered pamphlet of twenty pages which you will find lying under +the "Cruden's Concordance." [The boy took a large bite, which left a very +perfect crescent in the slice of bread-and-butter he held, and departed +on his errand, with the portable fraction of his breakfast to sustain him +on the way.] + +--Here it is. "Go to the Bible. A Dissertation, etc., etc. By J. J. +Flournoy. Athens, Georgia, 1858." + +Mr. Flournoy, Madam, has obeyed the precept which you have judiciously +delivered. You may be interested, Madam, to know what are the +conclusions at which Mr. J. J. Flournoy of Athens, Georgia, has arrived. +You shall hear, Madam. He has gone to the Bible, and he has come back +from the Bible, bringing a remedy for existing social evils, which, if it +is the real specific, as it professes to be, is of great interest to +humanity, and to the female part of humanity in particular. It is what +he calls TRIGAMY, Madam, or the marrying of three wives, so that "good +old men" may be solaced at once by the companionship of the wisdom of +maturity, and of those less perfected but hardly less engaging qualities +which are found at an earlier period of life. He has followed your +precept, Madam; I hope you accept his conclusions. + +The female boarder in black attire looked so puzzled, and, in fact, "all +abroad," after the delivery of this "counter" of mine, that I left her to +recover her wits, and went on with the conversation, which I was +beginning to get pretty well in hand. + +But in the mean time I kept my eye on the female boarder to see what +effect I had produced. First, she was a little stunned at having her +argument knocked over. Secondly, she was a little shocked at the +tremendous character of the triple matrimonial suggestion. Thirdly.--I +don't like to say what I thought. Something seemed to have pleased her +fancy. Whether it was, that, if trigamy should come into fashion, there +would be three times as many chances to enjoy the luxury of saying, "No!" +is more than I, can tell you. I may as well mention that B. F. came to +me after breakfast to borrow the pamphlet for "a lady,"--one of the +boarders, he said,--looking as if he had a secret he wished to be +relieved of. + +--I continued.--If a human soul is necessarily to be trained up in the +faith of those from whom it inherits its body, why, there is the end of +all reason. If, sooner or later, every soul is to look for truth with +its own eyes, the first thing is to recognize that no presumption in +favor of any particular belief arises from the fact of our inheriting it. +Otherwise you would not give the Mahometan a fair chance to become a +convert to a better religion. + +The second thing would be to depolarize every fixed religious idea in the +mind by changing the word which stands for it. + +--I don't know what you mean by "depolarizing" an idea,--said the +divinity-student. + +I will tell you,--I said.---When a given symbol which represents a +thought has lain for a certain length of time in the mind, it undergoes a +change like that which rest in a certain position gives to iron. It +becomes magnetic in its relations,--it is traversed by strange forces +which did not belong to it. The word, and consequently the idea it +represents, is polarized. + +The religious currency of mankind, in thought, in speech, and in print, +consists entirely of polarized words. Borrow one of these from another +language and religion, and you will find it leaves all its magnetism +behind it. Take that famous word, O'm, of the Hindoo mythology. Even a +priest cannot pronounce it without sin; and a holy Pundit would shut his +ears and run away from you in horror, if you should say it aloud. What +do you care for O'm? If you wanted to get the Pundit to look at his +religion fairly, you must first depolarize this and all similar words for +him. The argument for and against new translations of the Bible really +turns on this. Skepticism is afraid to trust its truths in depolarized +words, and so cries out against a new translation. I think, myself, if +every idea our Book contains could be shelled out of its old symbol and +put into a new, clean, unmagnetic word, we should have some chance of +reading it as philosophers, or wisdom-lovers, ought to read it,--which we +do not and cannot now any more than a Hindoo can read the "Gayatri" as a +fair man and lover of truth should do. When society has once fairly +dissolved the New Testament, which it never has done yet, it will perhaps +crystallize it over again in new forms of language. + +I did n't know you was a settled minister over this parish,--said the +young fellow near me. + +A sermon by a lay-preacher may be worth listening--I replied, calmly. +--It gives the parallax of thought and feeling as they appear to the +observers from two very different points of view. If you wish to get the +distance of a heavenly body, you know that you must take two observations +from remote points of the earth's orbit,--in midsummer and midwinter, for +instance. To get the parallax of heavenly truths, you must take an +observation from the position of the laity as well as of the clergy. +Teachers and students of theology get a certain look, certain +conventional tones of voice, a clerical gait, a professional neckcloth, +and habits of mind as professional as their externals. They are +scholarly men and read Bacon, and know well enough what the "idols of the +tribe" are. Of course they have their false gods, as all men that follow +one exclusive calling are prone to do.--The clergy have played the part +of the flywheel in our modern civilization. They have never suffered it +to stop. They have often carried on its movement, when other moving +powers failed, by the momentum stored in their vast body. Sometimes, +too, they have kept it back by their vis inertia, when its wheels were +like to grind the bones of some old canonized error into fertilizers for +the soil that yields the bread of life. But the mainspring of the +world's onward religious movement is not in them, nor in any one body of +men, let me tell you. It is the people that makes the clergy, and not +the clergy that makes the people. Of course, the profession reacts on +its source with variable energy.--But there never was a guild of dealers +or a company of craftsmen that did not need sharp looking after. + +Our old friend, Dr. Holyoke, whom we gave the dinner to some time since, +must have known many people that saw the great bonfire in Harvard College +yard. + +--Bonfire?--shrieked the little man.--The bonfire when Robert Calef's +book was burned? + +The same,--I said,--when Robert Calef the Boston merchant's book was +burned in the yard of Harvard College, by order of Increase Mather, +President of the College and Minister of the Gospel. You remember the +old witchcraft revival of '92, and how stout Master Robert Calef, trader +of Boston, had the pluck to tell the ministers and judges what a set of +fools and worse than fools they were-- + +Remember it?--said the little man.--I don't think I shall forget it, as +long as I can stretch this forefinger to point with, and see what it +wears. There was a ring on it. + +May I look at it?--I said. + +Where it is,--said the little man;--it will never come off, till it falls +off from the bone in the darkness and in the dust. + +He pushed the high chair on which he sat slightly back from the table, +and dropped himself, standing, to the floor,--his head being only a +little above the level of the table, as he stood. With pain and labor, +lifting one foot over the other, as a drummer handles his sticks, he took +a few steps from his place,--his motions and the deadbeat of the +misshapen boots announcing to my practised eye and ear the malformation +which is called in learned language talipes varus, or inverted club-foot. + +Stop! stop!--I said,--let me come to you. + +The little man hobbled back, and lifted himself by the left arm, with an +ease approaching to grace which surprised me, into his high chair. I +walked to his side, and he stretched out the forefinger of his right +hand, with the ring upon it. The ring had been put on long ago, and +could not pass the misshapen joint. It was one of those funeral rings +which used to be given to relatives and friends after the decease of +persons of any note or importance. Beneath a round fit of glass was a +death's head. Engraved on one side of this, "L. B. AEt. 22,"--on the +other, "Ob. 1692" + +My grandmother's grandmother,--said the little man.--Hanged for a witch. +It does n't seem a great while ago. I knew my grandmother, and loved +her. Her mother was daughter to the witch that Chief Justice Sewall +hanged and Cotton Mather delivered over to the Devil.--That was Salem, +though, and not Boston. No, not Boston. Robert Calef, the Boston +merchant, it was that blew them all to-- + +Never mind where he blew them to,--I said; for the little man was getting +red in the face, and I did n't know what might come next. + +This episode broke me up, as the jockeys say, out of my square +conversational trot; but I settled down to it again. + +--A man that knows men, in the street, at their work, human nature in its +shirt-sleeves, who makes bargains with deacons, instead of talking over +texts with them, a man who has found out that there are plenty of praying +rogues and swearing saints in the world,--above all, who has found out, +by living into the pith and core of life, that all of the Deity which can +be folded up between the sheets of any human book is to the Deity of the +firmament, of the strata, of the hot aortic flood of throbbing human +life, of this infinite, instantaneous consciousness in which the soul's +being consists,--an incandescent point in the filament connecting the +negative pole of a past eternity with the positive pole of an eternity +that is to come,--that all of the Deity which any human book can hold is +to this larger Deity of the working battery of the universe only as the +films in a book of gold-leaf are to the broad seams and curdled lumps of +ore that lie in unsunned mines and virgin placers,--Oh!--I was saying +that a man who lives out-of-doors, among live people, gets some things +into his head he might not find in the index of his "Body of Divinity." + +I tell you what,--the idea of the professions' digging a moat round their +close corporations, like that Japanese one at Jeddo, on the bottom of +which, if travellers do not lie, you could put Park Street Church and +look over the vane from its side, and try to stretch another such spire +across it without spanning the chasm,--that idea, I say, is pretty nearly +worn out. Now when a civilization or a civilized custom falls into +senile dementia, there is commonly a judgment ripe for it, and it comes +as plagues come, from a breath,--as fires come, from a spark. + +Here, look at medicine. Big wigs, gold-headed canes, Latin +prescriptions, shops full of abominations, recipes a yard long, "curing" +patients by drugging as sailors bring a wind by whistling, selling lies +at a guinea apiece,--a routine, in short, of giving unfortunate sick +people a mess of things either too odious to swallow or too acrid to +hold, or, if that were possible, both at once. + +--You don't know what I mean, indignant and not unintelligent +country-practitioner? Then you don't know the history of medicine,--and +that is not my fault. But don't expose yourself in any outbreak of +eloquence; for, by the mortar in which Anaxarchus was pounded! I did not +bring home Schenckius and Forestus and Hildanus, and all the old folios +in calf and vellum I will show you, to be bullied by the proprietor, of a +"Wood and Bache," and a shelf of peppered sheepskin reprints by +Philadelphia Editors. Besides, many of the profession and I know a +little something of each other, and you don't think I am such a simpleton +as to lose their good opinion by saying what the better heads among them +would condemn as unfair and untrue? Now mark how the great plague came +on the generation of drugging doctors, and in what form it fell. + +A scheming drug-vender, (inventive genius,) an utterly untrustworthy and +incompetent observer, (profound searcher of Nature,) a shallow dabbler in +erudition, (sagacious scholar,) started the monstrous fiction (founded +the immortal system) of Homoeopathy. I am very fair, you see,---you can +help yourself to either of these sets of phrases. + +All the reason in the world would not have had so rapid and general an +effect on the public mind to disabuse it of the idea that a drug is a +good thing in itself, instead of being, as it is, a bad thing, as was +produced by the trick (system) of this German charlatan (theorist). Not +that the wiser part of the profession needed him to teach them; but the +routinists and their employers, the "general practitioners," who lived by +selling pills and mixtures, and their drug-consuming customers, had to +recognize that people could get well, unpoisoned. These dumb cattle +would not learn it of themselves, and so the murrain of Homoeopathy fell +on them. + +--You don't know what plague has fallen on the practitioners of theology? +I will tell you, then. It is Spiritualism. While some are crying out +against it as a delusion of the Devil, and some are laughing at it as an +hysteric folly, and some are getting angry with it as a mere trick of +interested or mischievous persons, Spiritualism is quietly undermining +the traditional ideas of the future state which have been and are still +accepted,--not merely in those who believe in it, but in the general +sentiment of the community, to a larger extent than most good people seem +to be aware of. It need n't be true, to do this, any more than +Homoeopathy need, to do its work. The Spiritualists have some pretty +strong instincts to pry over, which no doubt have been roughly handled by +theologians at different times. And the Nemesis of the pulpit comes, in +a shape it little thought of, beginning with the snap of a toe-joint, and +ending with such a crack of old beliefs that the roar of it is heard in +all the ministers' studies of Christendom? Sir, you cannot have people +of cultivation, of pure character, sensible enough in common things, +large-hearted women, grave judges, shrewd business-men, men of science, +professing to be in communication with the spiritual world and keeping up +constant intercourse with it, without its gradually reacting on the whole +conception of that other life. It is the folly of the world, constantly, +which confounds its wisdom. Not only out of the mouths of babes and +sucklings, but out of the mouths of fools and cheats, we may often get +our truest lessons. For the fool's judgment is a dog-vane that turns +with a breath, and the cheat watches the clouds and sets his weathercock +by them,--so that one shall often see by their pointing which way the +winds of heaven are blowing, when the slow-wheeling arrows and feathers +of what we call the Temples of Wisdom are turning to all points of the +compass. + +--Amen!--said the young fellow called John--Ten minutes by the watch. +Those that are unanimous will please to signify by holding up their left +foot! + +I looked this young man steadily in the face for about thirty seconds. +His countenance was as calm as that of a reposing infant. I think it was +simplicity, rather than mischief, with perhaps a youthful playfulness, +that led him to this outbreak. I have often noticed that even quiet +horses, on a sharp November morning, when their coats are beginning to +get the winter roughness, will give little sportive demi-kicks, with +slight sudden elevation of the subsequent region of the body, and a sharp +short whinny,--by no means intending to put their heels through the +dasher, or to address the driver rudely, but feeling, to use a familiar +word, frisky. This, I think, is the physiological condition of the young +person, John. I noticed, however, what I should call a palpebral spasm, +affecting the eyelid and muscles of one side, which, if it were intended +for the facial gesture called a wink, might lead me to suspect a +disposition to be satirical on his part. + +--Resuming the conversation, I remarked,--I am, ex officio, as a +Professor, a conservative. For I don't know any fruit that clings to its +tree so faithfully, not even a "froze-'n'-thaw" winter-apple, as a +Professor to the bough of which his chair is made. You can't shake him +off, and it is as much as you can do to pull him off. Hence, by a chain +of induction I need not unwind, he tends to conservatism generally. + +But then, you know, if you are sailing the Atlantic, and all at once find +yourself in a current, and the sea covered with weeds, and drop your +Fahrenheit over the side and find it eight or ten degrees higher than in +the ocean generally, there is no use in flying in the face of facts and +swearing there is no such thing as a Gulf-Stream, when you are in it. + +You can't keep gas in a bladder, and you can't keep knowledge tight in a +profession. Hydrogen will leak out, and air will leak in, through +India-rubber; and special knowledge will leak out, and general knowledge +will leak in, though a profession were covered with twenty thicknesses of +sheepskin diplomas. + +By Jove, Sir, till common sense is well mixed up with medicine, and +common manhood with theology, and common honesty with law, We the people, +Sir, some of us with nut-crackers, and some of us with trip-hammers, and +some of us with pile-drivers, and some of us coming with a whish! like +air-stones out of a lunar volcano, will crash down on the lumps of +nonsense in all of them till we have made powder of them--like Aaron's +calf. + +If to be a conservative is to let all the drains of thought choke up and +keep all the soul's windows down,--to shut out the sun from the east and +the wind from the west,--to let the rats run free in the cellar, and the +moths feed their fill in the chambers, and the spiders weave their lace +before the mirrors, till the soul's typhus is bred out of our neglect, +and we begin to snore in its coma or rave in its delirium,--I, Sir, am a +bonnet-rouge, a red cap of the barricades, my friends, rather than a +conservative. + +--Were you born in Boston, Sir?--said the little man,--looking eager and +excited. + +I was not,--I replied. + +It's a pity,--it's a pity,--said the little man;--it 's the place to be +born in. But if you can't fix it so as to be born here, you can come and +live here. Old Ben Franklin, the father of American science and the +American Union, was n't ashamed to be born here. Jim Otis, the father of +American Independence, bothered about in the Cape Cod marshes awhile, but +he came to Boston as soon as he got big enough. Joe Warren, the first +bloody ruffed-shirt of the Revolution, was as good as born here. Parson +Charming strolled along this way from Newport, and stayed here. Pity old +Sam Hopkins hadn't come, too;--we'd have made a man of him,--poor, dear, +good old Christian heathen! There he lies, as peaceful as a young baby, +in the old burying-ground! I've stood on the slab many a time. Meant +well,--meant well. Juggernaut. Parson Charming put a little oil on one +linchpin, and slipped it out so softly, the first thing they knew about +it was the wheel of that side was down. T' other fellow's at work now, +but he makes more noise about it. When the linchpin comes out on his +side, there'll be a jerk, I tell you! Some think it will spoil the old +cart, and they pretend to say that there are valuable things in it which +may get hurt. Hope not,--hope not. But this is the great Macadamizing +place,--always cracking up something. + +Cracking up Boston folks,--said the gentleman with the diamond-pin, whom, +for convenience' sake, I shall hereafter call the Koh-i-noor. + +The little man turned round mechanically towards him, as Maelzel's Turk +used to turn, carrying his head slowly and horizontally, as if it went by +cogwheels.--Cracking up all sorts of things,--native and foreign vermin +included,--said the little man. + +This remark was thought by some of us to have a hidden personal +application, and to afford a fair opening for a lively rejoinder, if the +Koh-i-noor had been so disposed. The little man uttered it with the +distinct wooden calmness with which the ingenious Turk used to exclaim, +E-chec! so that it must have been heard. The party supposed to be +interested in the remark was, however, carrying a large knife-bladeful of +something to his mouth just then, which, no doubt, interfered with the +reply he would have made. + +--My friend who used to board here was accustomed sometimes, in a +pleasant way, to call himself the Autocrat of the table,--meaning, I +suppose, that he had it all his own way among the boarders. I think our +small boarder here is like to prove a refractory subject, if I undertake +to use the sceptre my friend meant to bequeath me, too magisterially. I +won't deny that sometimes, on rare occasions, when I have been in company +with gentlemen who preferred listening, I have been guilty of the same +kind of usurpation which my friend openly justified. But I maintain, +that I, the Professor, am a good listener. If a man can tell me a fact +which subtends an appreciable angle in the horizon of thought, I am as +receptive as the contribution-box in a congregation of colored brethren. +If, when I am exposing my intellectual dry-goods, a man will begin a good +story, I will have them all in, and my shutters up, before he has got to +the fifth "says he," and listen like a three-years' child, as the author +of the "Old Sailor" says. I had rather hear one of those grand elemental +laughs from either of our two Georges, (fictitious names, Sir or Madam,) +glisten to one of those old playbills of our College days, in which "Tom +and Jerry" ("Thomas and Jeremiah," as the old Greek Professor was said to +call it) was announced to be brought on the stage with whole force of the +Faculty, read by our Frederick, (no such person, of course,) than say the +best things I might by any chance find myself capable of saying. Of +course, if I come across a real thinker, a suggestive, acute, +illuminating, informing talker, I enjoy the luxury of sitting still for a +while as much as another. + +Nobody talks much that does n't say unwise things,--things he did not +mean to say; as no person plays much without striking a false note +sometimes. Talk, to me, is only spading up the ground for crops of +thought. I can't answer for what will turn up. If I could, it would n't +be talking, but "speaking my piece." Better, I think, the hearty +abandonment of one's self to the suggestions of the moment at the risk of +an occasional slip of the tongue, perceived the instant it escapes, but +just one syllable too late, than the royal reputation of never saying a +foolish thing. + +--What shall I do with this little man?--There is only one thing to +do,--and that is to let him talk when he will. The day of the +"Autocrat's" monologues is over. + +--My friend,--said I to the young fellow whom, as I have said, the +boarders call "John,"--My friend,--I said, one morning, after +breakfast,--can you give me any information respecting the deformed +person who sits at the other end of the table? + +What! the Sculpin?--said the young fellow. + +The diminutive person, with angular curvature of the spine,--I said, +--and double talipes varus,--I beg your pardon,--with two club-feet. + +Is that long word what you call it when a fellah walks so?--said the +young man, making his fists revolve round an imaginary axis, as you may +have seen youth of tender age and limited pugilistic knowledge, when they +show how they would punish an adversary, themselves protected by this +rotating guard,--the middle knuckle, meantime, thumb-supported, fiercely +prominent, death-threatening. + +It is,--said I.--But would you have the kindness to tell me if you know +anything about this deformed person? + +About the Sculpin?--said the young fellow. + +My good friend,--said I,--I am sure, by your countenance, you would not +hurt the feelings of one who has been hardly enough treated by Nature to +be spared by his fellows. Even in speaking of him to others, I could +wish that you might not employ a term which implies contempt for what +should inspire only pity. + +A fellah 's no business to be so crooked,--said the young man called +John. + +Yes, yes,--I said, thoughtfully,--the strong hate the weak. It's all +right. The arrangement has reference to the race, and not to the +individual. Infirmity must be kicked out, or the stock run down. +Wholesale moral arrangements are so different from retail!--I understand +the instinct, my friend,--it is cosmic,--it is planetary,--it is a +conservative principle in creation. + +The young fellow's face gradually lost its expression as I was speaking, +until it became as blank of vivid significance as the countenance of a +gingerbread rabbit with two currants in the place of eyes. He had not +taken my meaning. + +Presently the intelligence came back with a snap that made him wink, as +he answered,--Jest so. All right. A 1. Put her through. That's the +way to talk. Did you speak to me, Sir?--Here the young man struck up +that well-known song which I think they used to sing at Masonic +festivals, beginning, "Aldiborontiphoscophornio, Where left you +Chrononhotonthologos?" + +I beg your pardon,--I said;--all I meant was, that men, as temporary +occupants of a permanent abode called human life, which is improved or +injured by occupancy, according to the style of tenant, have a natural +dislike to those who, if they live the life of the race as well as of the +individual, will leave lasting injurious effects upon the abode spoken +of, which is to be occupied by countless future generations. This is the +final cause of the underlying brute instinct which we have in common with +the herds. + +--The gingerbread-rabbit expression was coming on so fast, that I thought +I must try again.--It's a pity that families are kept up, where there are +such hereditary infirmities. Still, let us treat this poor man fairly, +and not call him names. Do you know what his name is? + +I know what the rest of 'em call him,--said the young fellow.--They call +him Little Boston. There's no harm in that, is there? + +It is an honorable term,--I replied.--But why Little Boston, in a place +where most are Bostonians? + +Because nobody else is quite so Boston all over as he is,--said the young +fellow. + +"L. B. Ob. 1692."--Little Boston let him be, when we talk about him. The +ring he wears labels him well enough. There is stuff in the little man, +or he would n't stick so manfully by this crooked, crotchety old town. +Give him a chance.--You will drop the Sculpin, won't you?--I said to the +young fellow. + +Drop him?--he answered,--I ha'n't took him up yet. + +No, no,--the term,--I said,--the term. Don't call him so any more, if +you please. Call him Little Boston, if you like. + +All right,--said the young fellow.--I would n't be hard on the poor +little-- + +The word he used was objectionable in point of significance and of +grammar. It was a frequent termination of certain adjectives among the +Romans,--as of those designating a person following the sea, or given to +rural pursuits. It is classed by custom among the profane words; why, it +is hard to say,--but it is largely used in the street by those who speak +of their fellows in pity or in wrath. + +I never heard the young fellow apply the name of the odious pretended +fish to the little man from that day forward. + +--Here we are, then, at our boarding--house. First, myself, the +Professor, a little way from the head of the table, on the right, looking +down, where the "Autocrat" used to sit. At the further end sits the +Landlady. At the head of the table, just now, the Koh-i-noor, or the +gentleman with the diamond. Opposite me is a Venerable Gentleman with a +bland countenance, who as yet has spoken little. The Divinity Student is +my neighbor on the right,--and further down, that Young Fellow of whom I +have repeatedly spoken. The Landlady's Daughter sits near the +Koh-i-noor, as I said. The Poor Relation near the Landlady. At the +right upper corner is a fresh-looking youth of whose name and history I +have as yet learned nothing. Next the further left-hand corner, near the +lower end of the table, sits the deformed person. The chair at his side, +occupying that corner, is empty. I need not specially mention the other +boarders, with the exception of Benjamin Franklin, the landlady's son, +who sits near his mother. We are a tolerably assorted set,--difference +enough and likeness enough; but still it seems to me there is something +wanting. The Landlady's Daughter is the prima donna in the way of +feminine attractions. I am not quite satisfied with this young lady. +She wears more "jewelry," as certain young ladies call their trinkets, +than I care to see on a person in her position. Her voice is strident, +her laugh too much like a giggle, and she has that foolish way of dancing +and bobbing like a quill-float with a "minnum" biting the hook below it, +which one sees and weeps over sometimes in persons of more pretensions. +I can't help hoping we shall put something into that empty chair yet +which will add the missing string to our social harp. I hear talk of a +rare Miss who is expected. Something in the schoolgirl way, I believe. +We shall see. + +--My friend who calls himself The Autocrat has given me a caution which I +am going to repeat, with my comment upon it, for the benefit of all +concerned. + +Professor,--said he, one day,--don't you think your brain will run dry +before a year's out, if you don't get the pump to help the cow? Let me +tell you what happened to me once. I put a little money into a bank, and +bought a check-book, so that I might draw it as I wanted, in sums to +suit. Things went on nicely for a time; scratching with a pen was as +easy as rubbing Aladdin's Lamp; and my blank check-book seemed to be a +dictionary of possibilities, in which I could find all the synonymes of +happiness, and realize any one of them on the spot. A check came back to +me at last with these two words on it,--NO FUNDS. My check-book was a +volume of waste-paper. + +Now, Professor,--said he,--I have drawn something out of your bank, you +know; and just so sure as you keep drawing out your soul's currency +without making new deposits, the next thing will be, NO FUNDS,--and then +where will you be, my boy? These little bits of paper mean your gold and +your silver and your copper, Professor; and you will certainly break up +and go to pieces, if you don't hold on to your metallic basis. + +There is something in that,--said I.--Only I rather think life can coin +thought somewhat faster than I can count it off in words. What if one +shall go round and dry up with soft napkins all the dew that falls of a +June evening on the leaves of his garden? Shall there be no more dew on +those leaves thereafter? Marry, yea,--many drops, large and round and +full of moonlight as those thou shalt have absterged! + +Here am I, the Professor,--a man who has lived long enough to have +plucked the flowers of life and come to the berries,--which are not +always sad-colored, but sometimes golden-hued as the crocus of April, or +rosy-cheeked as the damask of June; a man who staggered against books as +a baby, and will totter against them, if he lives to decrepitude; with a +brain full of tingling thoughts, such as they are, as a limb which we +call "asleep," because it is so particularly awake, is of pricking points; +presenting a key-board of nerve-pulps, not as yet tanned or ossified, to +finger-touch of all outward agencies; knowing nothing of the filmy +threads of this web of life in which we insects buzz awhile, waiting for +the gray old spider to come along; contented enough with daily realities, +but twirling on his finger the key of a private Bedlam of ideals; in +knowledge feeding with the fox oftener than with the stork,--loving +better the breadth of a fertilizing inundation than the depth of narrow +artesian well; finding nothing too small for his contemplation in the +markings of the grammatophora subtilissima, and nothing too large in the +movement of the solar system towards the star Lambda of the constellation +Hercules;--and the question is, whether there is anything left for me, +the Professor, to suck out of creation, after my lively friend has had +his straw in the bung-hole of the Universe! + +A man's mental reactions with the atmosphere of life must go on, whether +he will or no, as between his blood and the air he breathes. As to +catching the residuum of the process, or what we call thought,--the +gaseous ashes of burned-out thinking,--the excretion of mental +respiration,--that will depend on many things, as, on having a favorable +intellectual temperature about one, and a fitting receptacle.--I sow more +thought-seeds in twenty-four hours' travel over the desert-sand along +which my lonely consciousness paces day and night, than I shall throw +into soil where it will germinate, in a year. All sorts of bodily and +mental perturbations come between us and the due projection of our +thought. The pulse-like "fits of easy and difficult transmission" seem +to reach even the transparent medium through which our souls are seen. +We know our humanity by its often intercepted rays, as we tell a +revolving light from a star or meteor by its constantly recurring +obscuration. + +An illustrious scholar once told me, that, in the first lecture he ever +delivered, he spoke but half his allotted time, and felt as if he had +told all he knew. Braham came forward once to sing one of his most +famous and familiar songs, and for his life could not recall the first +line of it;--he told his mishap to the audience, and they screamed it at +him in a chorus of a thousand voices. Milton could not write to suit +himself, except from the autumnal to the vernal equinox. One in the +clothing-business, who, there is reason to suspect, may have inherited, +by descent, the great poet's impressible temperament, let a customer slip +through his fingers one day without fitting him with a new garment. +"Ah!" said he to a friend of mine, who was standing by, "if it hadn't +been for that confounded headache of mine this morning, I'd have had a +coat on that man, in spite of himself, before he left-the store." A +passing throb, only,--but it deranged the nice mechanism required to +persuade the accidental human being, X, into a given piece of broadcloth, +A. + +We must take care not to confound this frequent difficulty of +transmission of our ideas with want of ideas. I suppose that a man's +mind does in time form a neutral salt with the elements in the universe +for which it has special elective affinities. In fact, I look upon a +library as a kind of mental chemist's shop filled with the crystals of +all forms and hues which have come from the union of individual thought +with local circumstances or universal principles. + +When a man has worked out his special affinities in this way, there is an +end of his genius as a real solvent. No more effervescence and hissing +tumult--as he pours his sharp thought on the world's biting alkaline +unbeliefs! No more corrosion of the old monumental tablets covered with +lies! No more taking up of dull earths, and turning them, first into +clear solutions, and then into lustrous prisms! + +I, the Professor, am very much like other men: I shall not find out when +I have used up my affinities. What a blessed thing it is, that Nature, +when she invented, manufactured, and patented her authors, contrived to +make critics out of the chips that were left! Painful as the task is, +they never fail to warn the author, in the most impressive manner, of the +probabilities of failure in what he has undertaken. Sad as the necessity +is to their delicate sensibilities, they never hesitate to advertise him +of the decline of his powers, and to press upon him the propriety of +retiring before he sinks into imbecility. Trusting to their kind +offices, I shall endeavor to fulfil-- + +--Bridget enters and begins clearing the table. + +--The following poem is my (The Professor's) only contribution to the +great department of Ocean-Cable literature. As all the poets of this +country will be engaged for the next six weeks in writing for the premium +offered by the Crystal-Palace Company for the Burns Centenary, (so +called, according to our Benjamin Franklin, because there will be nary a +cent for any of us,) poetry will be very scarce and dear. Consumers may, +consequently, be glad to take the present article, which, by the aid of a +Latin tutor--and a Professor of Chemistry, will be found intelligible to +the educated classes. + + + + DE SAUTY + + AN ELECTRO-CHEMICAL ECLOGUE. + + Professor. Blue-Nose. + + PROFESSOR. + + Tell me, O Provincial! speak, Ceruleo-Nasal! + Lives there one De Sauty extant now among you, + Whispering Boanerges, son of silent thunder, + Holding talk with nations? + + Is there a De Sauty, ambulant on Tellus, + Bifid-cleft like mortals, dormient in night-cap, + Having sight, smell, hearing, food-receiving feature + Three times daily patent? + + Breathes there such a being, O Ceruleo-Nasal? + Or is he a mythus,--ancient word for "humbug," + --Such as Livy told about the wolf that wet-nursed + Romulus and Remus? + + Was he born of woman, this alleged De Sauty? + Or a living product of galvanic action, + Like the status bred in Crosses flint-solution? + Speak, thou Cyano-Rhinal! + + + BLUE-NOSE. + + Many things thou askest, jackknife-bearing stranger, + Much-conjecturing mortal, pork-and-treacle-waster! + Pretermit thy whittling, wheel thine ear-flap toward me, + Thou shalt hear them answered. + + When the charge galvanic tingled through the cable, + At the polar focus of the wire electric + Suddenly appeared a white-faced man among us + Called himself "DE SAUTY." + + As the small opossum held in pouch maternal + Grasps the nutrient organ whence the term mammalia, + So the unknown stranger held the wire electric, + Sucking in the current. + + When the current strengthened, bloomed the pale-faced stranger, + Took no drink nor victual, yet grew fat and rosy, + And from time to time, in sharp articulation, + Said, "All right! DE SAUTY." + + From the lonely station passed the utterance, spreading + Through the pines and hemlocks to the groves of steeples + Till the land was filled with loud reverberations + Of "All right! DE SAUTY." + + When the current slackened, drooped the mystic stranger, + Faded, faded, faded, as the stream grew weaker, + Wasted to a shadow, with a hartshorn odor + Of disintegration. + + Drops of deliquescence glistened on his forehead, + Whitened round his feet the dust of efflorescence, + Till one Monday morning, when the flow suspended, + There was no De Sauty. + + Nothing but a cloud of elements organic, + C. O. H. N. Ferrum, Chor. Flu. Sil. Potassa, + Calc. Sod. Phosph. Mag. Sulphur, Mang.(?) Alumin.(?) Cuprum,(?) + Such as man is made of. + + Born of stream galvanic, with it he had perished! + There is no De Sauty now there is no current! + Give us a new cable, then again we'll hear him + Cry, "All right! DE SAUTY." + + + + +II + +Back again!--A turtle--which means a tortoise--is fond of his shell; but +if you put a live coal on his back, he crawls out of it. So the boys +say. + +It is a libel on the turtle. He grows to his shell, and his shell is in +his body as much as his body is in his shell.--I don't think there is one +of our boarders quite so testudineous as I am. Nothing but a combination +of motives, more peremptory than the coal on the turtle's back, could +have got me to leave the shelter of my carapace; and after memorable +interviews, and kindest hospitalities, and grand sights, and huge influx +of patriotic pride,--for every American owns all America,-- + + "Creation's heir,--the world, the world is" + +his, if anybody's,--I come back with the feeling which a boned turkey +might experience, if, retaining his consciousness, he were allowed to +resume his skeleton. + +Welcome, O Fighting Gladiator, and Recumbent Cleopatra, and Dying +Warrior, whose classic outlines (reproduced in the calcined mineral of +Lutetia) crown my loaded shelves! Welcome, ye triumphs of pictorial art +(repeated by the magic graver) that look down upon me from the walls of +my sacred cell! Vesalius, as Titian drew him, high-fronted, still-eyed, +thick-bearded, with signet-ring, as beseems a gentleman, with book and +carelessly-held eyeglass, marking him a scholar; thou, too, Jan Kuyper, +commonly called Jan Praktiseer, old man of a century and seven years +besides, father of twenty sons and two daughters, cut in copper by +Houbraken, bought from a portfolio on one of the Paris quais; and ye +Three Trees of Rembrandt, black in shadow against the blaze of light; and +thou Rosy Cottager of Sir Joshua, roses hinted by the peppery burin of +Bartolozzi; ye, too, of lower grades in nature, yet not unlovely for +unrenowned, Young Bull of Paulus Potter, and sleeping Cat of Cornelius +Visscher; welcome once more to my eyes! The old books look out from the +shelves, and I seem to read on their backs something asides their +titles,--a kind of solemn greeting. The crimson carpet flushes warm +under my feet. The arm-chair hugs me; the swivel-chair spins round with +me, as if it were giddy with pleasure; the vast recumbent fauteuil +stretches itself out under my weight, as one joyous with food and wine +stretches in after-dinner laughter. + +The boarders were pleased to say that they were glad to get me back. One +of them ventured a compliment, namely,--that I talked as if I believed +what I said.--This was apparently considered something unusual, by its +being mentioned. + +One who means to talk with entire sincerity,--I said,--always feels +himself in danger of two things, namely,--an affectation of bluntness, +like that of which Cornwall accuses Kent in "Lear," and actual rudeness. +What a man wants to do, in talking with a stranger, is to get and to give +as much of the best and most real life that belongs to the two talkers as +the time will let him. Life is short, and conversation apt to run to +mere words. Mr. Hue I think it is, who tells us some very good stories +about the way in which two Chinese gentlemen contrive to keep up a long +talk without saying a word which has any meaning in it. Something like +this is occasionally heard on this side of the Great Wall. The best +Chinese talkers I know are some pretty women whom I meet from time to +time. Pleasant, airy, complimentary, the little flakes of flattery +glimmering in their talk like the bits of gold-leaf in eau-de-vie de +Dantzic; their accents flowing on in a soft ripple,--never a wave, and +never a calm; words nicely fitted, but never a colored phrase or a +highly-flavored epithet; they turn air into syllables so gracefully, that +we find meaning for the music they make as we find faces in the coals and +fairy palaces in the clouds. There is something very odd, though, about +this mechanical talk. + +You have sometimes been in a train on the railroad when the engine was +detached a long way from the station you were approaching? Well, you +have noticed how quietly and rapidly the cars kept on, just as if the +locomotive were drawing them? Indeed, you would not have suspected that +you were travelling on the strength of a dead fact, if you had not seen +the engine running away from you on a side-track. Upon my conscience, I +believe some of these pretty women detach their minds entirely, +sometimes, from their talk,--and, what is more, that we never know the +difference. Their lips let off the fluty syllables just as their fingers +would sprinkle the music-drops from their pianos; unconscious habit turns +the phrase of thought into words just as it does that of music into +notes.--Well, they govern the world for all that, these sweet-lipped +women,--because beauty is the index of a larger fact than wisdom. + +--The Bombazine wanted an explanation. + +Madam,--said I,--wisdom is the abstract of the past, but beauty is the +promise of the future. + +--All this, however, is not what I was going to say. Here am I, suppose, +seated--we will say at a dinner-table--alongside of an intelligent +Englishman. We look in each other's faces,--we exchange a dozen words. +One thing is settled: we mean not to offend each other,--to be perfectly +courteous,--more than courteous; for we are the entertainer and the +entertained, and cherish particularly amiable feelings, to each other. +The claret is good; and if our blood reddens a little with its warm +crimson, we are none the less kind for it. + +I don't think people that talk over their victuals are like to say +anything very great, especially if they get their heads muddled with +strong drink before they begin jabberin'. + +The Bombazine uttered this with a sugary sourness, as if the words had +been steeped in a solution of acetate of lead.--The boys of my time used +to call a hit like this a "side-winder." + +--I must finish this woman.-- + +Madam,--I said,--the Great Teacher seems to have been fond of talking as +he sat at meat. Because this was a good while ago, in a far-off place, +you forget what the true fact of it was,--that those were real dinners, +where people were hungry and thirsty, and where you met a very +miscellaneous company. Probably there was a great deal of loose talk +among the guests; at any rate, there was always wine, we may believe. + +Whatever may be the hygienic advantages or disadvantages of wine,--and I +for one, except for certain particular ends, believe in water, and, I +blush to say it, in black tea,--there is no doubt about its being the +grand specific against dull dinners. A score of people come together in +all moods of mind and body. The problem is, in the space of one hour, +more or less, to bring them all into the same condition of slightly +exalted life. Food alone is enough for one person, perhaps,--talk, +alone, for another; but the grand equalizer and fraternizer, which works +up the radiators to their maximum radiation, and the absorbents to their +maximum receptivity, is now just where it was when + + The conscious water saw its Lord and blushed, + +--when six great vessels containing water, the whole amounting to more +than a hogshead-full, were changed into the best of wine. I once wrote a +song about wine, in which I spoke so warmly of it, that I was afraid some +would think it was written inter pocula; whereas it was composed in the +bosom of my family, under the most tranquillizing domestic influences. + +--The divinity-student turned towards me, looking mischievous.--Can you +tell me,--he said,--who wrote a song for a temperance celebration once, +of which the following is a verse? + + Alas for the loved one, too gentle and fair + The joys of the banquet to chasten and share! + Her eye lost its light that his goblet might shine, + And the rose of her cheek was dissolved in his wine! + +I did,--I answered.--What are you going to do about it?--I will tell you +another line I wrote long ago:-- + + Don't be "consistent,"--but be simply true. + +The longer I live, the more I am satisfied of two things: first, that the +truest lives are those that are cut rose-diamond-fashion, with many +facets answering to the many-planed aspects of the world about them; +secondly, that society is always trying in some way or other to grind us +down to a single flat surface. It is hard work to resist this +grinding-down action.--Now give me a chance. Better eternal and +universal abstinence than the brutalities of those days that made wives +and mothers and daughters and sisters blush for those whom they should +have honored, as they came reeling home from their debauches! Yet better +even excess than lying and hypocrisy; and if wine is upon all our tables, +let us praise it for its color and fragrance and social tendency, so far +as it deserves, and not hug a bottle in the closet and pretend not to +know the use of a wine-glass at a public dinner! I think you will find +that people who honestly mean to be true really contradict themselves +much more rarely than those who try to be "consistent." But a great many +things we say can be made to appear contradictory, simply because they +are partial views of a truth, and may often look unlike at first, as a +front view of a face and its profile often do. + +Here is a distinguished divine, for whom I have great respect, for I owe +him a charming hour at one of our literary anniversaries, and he has +often spoken noble words; but he holds up a remark of my friend the +"Autocrat,"--which I grieve to say he twice misquotes, by omitting the +very word which gives it its significance,--the word fluid, intended to +typify the mobility of the restricted will,--holds it up, I say, as if it +attacked the reality of the self-determining principle, instead of +illustrating its limitations by an image. Now I will not explain any +farther, still less defend, and least of all attack, but simply quote a +few lines from one of my friend's poems, printed more than ten years ago, +and ask the distinguished gentleman where he has ever asserted more +strongly or absolutely the independent will of the "subcreative centre," +as my heretical friend has elsewhere called man. + + --Thought, conscience, will, to make them all thy own + He rent a pillar from the eternal throne! + --Made in His image, thou must nobly dare + The thorny crown of sovereignty to share. + --Think not too meanly of thy low estate; + Thou hast a choice; to choose is to create! + +If he will look a little closely, he will see that the profile and the +full-face views of the will are both true and perfectly consistent! + +Now let us come back, after this long digression, to the conversation +with the intelligent Englishman. We begin skirmishing with a few light +ideas,--testing for thoughts,--as our electro-chemical friend, De Sauty, +if there were such a person, would test for his current; trying a little +litmus-paper for acids, and then a slip of turmeric-paper for alkalies, +as chemists do with unknown compounds; flinging the lead, and looking at +the shells and sands it brings up to find out whether we are like to keep +in shallow water, or shall have to drop the deep-sea line;--in short, +seeing what we have to deal with. If the Englishman gets his H's pretty +well placed, he comes from one of the higher grades of the British social +order, and we shall find him a good companion. + +But, after all, here is a great fact between us. We belong to two +different civilizations, and, until we recognize what separates us, we +are talking like Pyramus and Thisbe, without any hole in the wall to talk +through. Therefore, on the whole, if he were a superior fellow, +incapable of mistaking it for personal conceit, I think I would let out +the fact of the real American feeling about Old-World folks. They are +children to us in certain points of view. They are playing with toys we +have done with for whole-generations. + +--------FOOTNOTE: +The more I have observed and reflected, the more limited seems to me the +field of action of the human will. Every act of choice involves a special +relation between the ego and the conditions before it. But no man knows +what forces are at work in the determination of his ego. The bias which +decides his choice between two or more motives may come from some +unsuspected ancestral source, of which he knows nothing at all. He is +automatic in virtue of that hidden spring of reflex action, all the time +having the feeling that he is self-determining. The Story of Elsie +Yenner, written-soon after this book was published, illustrates the +direction in which my thought was moving. 'The imaginary subject of the +story obeyed her will, but her will Obeyed the mysterious antenatal +poisoning influence. +-------- + +That silly little drum they are always beating on, and the trumpet and +the feather they make so much noise and cut such a figure with, we have +not quite outgrown, but play with much less seriously and constantly than +they do. Then there is a whole museum of wigs, and masks, and +lace-coats, and gold-sticks, and grimaces, and phrases, which we laugh at +honestly, without affectation, that are still used in the Old-World +puppet-shows. I don't think we on our part ever understand the +Englishman's concentrated loyalty and specialized reverence. But then we +do think more of a man, as such, (barring some little difficulties about +race and complexion which the Englishman will touch us on presently,) +than any people that ever lived did think of him. Our reverence is a +great deal wider, if it is less intense. We have caste among us, to some +extent; it is true; but there is never a collar on the American wolf-dog +such as you often see on the English mastiff, notwithstanding his robust, +hearty individuality. + +This confronting of two civilizations is always a grand sensation to me; +it is like cutting through the isthmus and letting the two oceans swim +into each other's laps. The trouble is, it is so difficult to let out +the whole American nature without its self-assertion seeming to take a +personal character. But I never enjoy the Englishman so much as when he +talks of church and king like Manco Capac among the Peruvians. Then you +get the real British flavor, which the cosmopolite Englishman loses. + +How much better this thorough interpenetration of ideas than a barren +interchange of courtesies, or a bush-fighting argument, in which each man +tries to cover as much of himself and expose as much of his opponent as +the tangled thicket of the disputed ground will let him! + +---My thoughts flow in layers or strata, at least three deep. I follow a +slow person's talk, and keep a perfectly clear under-current of my own +beneath it. Under both runs obscurely a consciousness belonging to a +third train of reflections, independent of the two others. I will try to +write out a Mental movement in three parts. + +A.---First voice, or Mental Soprano,--thought follows a woman talking. + +B.--Second voice, or Mental Barytone,--my running accompaniment. + +C.--Third voice, or Mental Basso,--low grumble of importunate +self-repeating idea. + +A.--White lace, three skirts, looped with flowers, wreath of +apple-blossoms, gold bracelets, diamond pin and ear-rings, the most +delicious berthe you ever saw, white satin slippers-- + +B.--Deuse take her! What a fool she is! Hear her chatter! (Look out of +window just here.--Two pages and a half of description, if it were all +written out, in one tenth of a second.)--Go ahead, old lady! (Eye catches +picture over fireplace.) There's that infernal family nose! Came over in +the "Mayflower" on the first old fool's face. Why don't they wear a ring +in it? + +C.--You 'll be late at lecture,--late at lecture,--late,--late-- + +I observe that a deep layer of thought sometimes makes itself felt +through the superincumbent strata, thus:--The usual single or double +currents shall flow on, but there shall be an influence blending with +them, disturbing them in an obscure way, until all at once I say,--Oh, +there! I knew there was something troubling me,--and the thought which +had been working through comes up to the surface clear, definite, and +articulates itself,--a disagreeable duty, perhaps, or an unpleasant +recollection. + +The inner world of thought and the outer world of events are alike in +this, that they are both brimful. There is no space between consecutive +thoughts, or between the never-ending series of actions. All pack tight, +and mould their surfaces against each other, so that in the long run +there is a wonderful average uniformity in the forms of both thoughts and +actions, just as you find that cylinders crowded all become hexagonal +prisms, and spheres pressed together are formed into regular polyhedra. + +Every event that a man would master must be mounted on the run, and no +man ever caught the reins of a thought except as it galloped by him. So, +to carry out, with another comparison, my remark about the layers of +thought, we may consider the mind as it moves among thoughts or events, +like a circus-rider whirling round with a great troop of horses. He can +mount a fact or an idea, and guide it more or less completely, but he +cannot stop it. So, as I said in another way at the beginning, he can +stride two or three thoughts at once, but not break their steady walk, +trot, or gallop. He can only take his foot from the saddle of one +thought and put it on that of another. + +--What is the saddle of a thought? Why, a word, of course.--Twenty years +after you have dismissed a thought, it suddenly wedges up to you through +the press, as if it had been steadily galloping round and round all that +time without a rider. + +The will does not act in the interspaces of thought, for there are no +such interspaces, but simply steps from the back of one moving thought +upon that of another. + +--I should like to ask,--said the divinity-student,--since we are getting +into metaphysics, how you can admit space, if all things are in contact, +and how you can admit time, if it is always now to something? + +--I thought it best not to hear this question. + +--I wonder if you know this class of philosophers in books or elsewhere. +One of them makes his bow to the public, and exhibits an unfortunate +truth bandaged up so that it cannot stir hand or foot,--as helpless, +apparently, and unable to take care of itself, as an Egyptian mummy. He +then proceeds, with the air and method of a master, to take off the +bandages. Nothing can be neater than the way in which he does it. But +as he takes off layer after layer, the truth seems to grow smaller and +smaller, and some of its outlines begin to look like something we have +seen before. At last, when he has got them all off, and the truth struts +out naked, we recognize it as a diminutive and familiar acquaintance whom +we have known in the streets all our lives. The fact is, the philosopher +has coaxed the truth into his study and put all those bandages on; or +course it is not very hard for him to take them off. Still, a great many +people like to watch the process,--he does it so neatly! + +Dear! dear! I am ashamed to write and talk, sometimes, when I see how +those functions of the large-brained, thumb-opposing plantigrade are +abused by my fellow-vertebrates,--perhaps by myself. How they spar for +wind, instead of hitting from the shoulder! + +--The young fellow called John arose and placed himself in a neat +fighting attitude.--Fetch on the fellah that makes them long words!--he +said,--and planted a straight hit with the right fist in the concave palm +of the left hand with a click like a cup and ball.--You small boy there, +hurry up that "Webster's Unabridged!" + +The little gentleman with the malformation, before described, shocked the +propriety of the breakfast-table by a loud utterance of three words, of +which the two last were "Webster's Unabridged," and the first was an +emphatic monosyllable.--Beg pardon,--he added,--forgot myself. But let +us have an English dictionary, if we are to have any. I don't believe in +clipping the coin of the realm, Sir! If I put a weathercock on my house, +Sir, I want it to tell which way the wind blows up aloft,--off from the +prairies to the ocean, or off from the ocean to the prairies, or any way +it wants to blow! I don't want a weathercock with a winch in an old +gentleman's study that he can take hold of and turn, so that the vane +shall point west when the great wind overhead is blowing east with all +its might, Sir! Wait till we give you a dictionary; Sir! It takes +Boston to do that thing, Sir! + +--Some folks think water can't run down-hill anywhere out of Boston, +--remarked the Koh-i-noor. + +I don't know what some folks think so well as I know what some fools +say,--rejoined the Little Gentleman.--If importing most dry goods made +the best scholars, I dare say you would know where to look for 'em.--Mr. +Webster could n't spell, Sir, or would n't spell, Sir,--at any rate, he +did n't spell; and the end of it was a fight between the owners of some +copyrights and the dignity of this noble language which we have inherited +from our English fathers. Language!--the blood of the soul, Sir! into +which our thoughts run and out of which they grow! We know what a word +is worth here in Boston. Young Sam Adams got up on the stage at +Commencement, out at Cambridge there, with his gown on, the Governor and +Council looking on in the name of his Majesty, King George the Second, +and the girls looking down out of the galleries, and taught people how to +spell a word that was n't in the Colonial dictionaries! R-e, re, s-i-s, +sis, t-a-n-c-e, tance, Resistance! That was in '43, and it was a good +many years before the Boston boys began spelling it with their +muskets;--but when they did begin, they spelt it so loud that the old +bedridden women in the English almshouses heard every syllable! Yes, +yes, yes,--it was a good while before those other two Boston boys got the +class so far along that it could spell those two hard words, Independence +and Union! I tell you what, Sir, there are a thousand lives, aye, +sometimes a million, go to get a new word into a language that is worth +speaking. We know what language means too well here in Boston to play +tricks with it. We never make a new word til we have made a new thing or +a new thought, Sir! then we shaped the new mould of this continent, we +had to make a few. When, by God's permission, we abrogated the primal +curse of maternity, we had to make a word or two. The cutwater of this +great Leviathan clipper, the OCCIDENTAL,--this thirty-wasted +wind-and-steam wave-crusher,--must throw a little spray over the human +vocabulary as it splits the waters of a new world's destiny! + +He rose as he spoke, until his stature seemed to swell into the fair +human proportions. His feet must have been on the upper round of his +high chair; that was the only way I could account for it. + +Puts her through fast-rate,--said the young fellow whom the boarders call +John. + +The venerable and kind-looking old gentleman who sits opposite said he +remembered Sam Adams as Governor. An old man in a brown coat. Saw him +take the Chair on Boston Common. Was a boy then, and remembers sitting +on the fence in front of the old Hancock house. Recollects he had a +glazed 'lectionbun, and sat eating it and looking down on to the Common. +Lalocks flowered late that year, and he got a great bunch off from the +bushes in the Hancock front-yard. + +Them 'lection-buns are no go,--said the young man John, so called.--I +know the trick. Give a fellah a fo'penny bun in the mornin', an' he +downs the whole of it. In about an hour it swells up in his stomach as +big as a football, and his feedin' 's spilt for that day. That's the way +to stop off a young one from eatin' up all the 'lection dinner. + +Salem! Salem! not Boston,--shouted the little man. + +But the Koh-i-noor laughed a great rasping laugh, and the boy Benjamin +Franklin looked sharp at his mother, as if he remembered the +bun-experiment as a part of his past personal history. + +The Little Gentleman was holding a fork in his left hand. He stabbed a +boulder of home-made bread with it, mechanically, and looked at it as if +it ought to shriek. It did not,--but he sat as if watching it. + +--Language is a solemn thing,--I said.--It grows out of life,--out of its +agonies and ecstasies, its wants and its weariness. Every language is a +temple, in which the soul of those who speak it is enshrined. Because +time softens its outlines and rounds the sharp angles of its cornices, +shall a fellow take a pickaxe to help time? Let me tell you what comes of +meddling with things that can take care of themselves.--A friend of mine +had a watch given him, when he was a boy,--a "bull's eye," with a loose +silver case that came off like an oyster-shell from its contents; you +know them,--the cases that you hang on your thumb, while the core, or the +real watch, lies in your hand as naked as a peeled apple. Well, he began +with taking off the case, and so on from one liberty to another, until he +got it fairly open, and there were the works, as good as if they were +alive,--crown-wheel, balance-wheel, and all the rest. All right except +one thing,--there was a confounded little hair had got tangled round the +balance-wheel. So my young Solomon got a pair of tweezers, and caught +hold of the hair very nicely, and pulled it right out, without touching +any of the wheels,--when,--buzzzZZZ! and the watch had done up +twenty-four hours in double magnetic-telegraph time!--The English +language was wound up to run some thousands of years, I trust; but if +everybody is to be pulling at everything he thinks is a hair, our +grandchildren will have to make the discovery that it is a hair-spring, +and the old Anglo-Norman soul's-timekeeper will run down, as so many +other dialects have done before it. I can't stand this meddling any +better than you, Sir. But we have a great deal to be proud of in the +lifelong labors of that old lexicographer, and we must n't be ungrateful. +Besides, don't let us deceive ourselves,--the war of the dictionaries is +only a disguised rivalry of cities, colleges, and especially of +publishers. After all, it is likely that the language will shape itself +by larger forces than phonography and dictionary-making. You may spade +up the ocean as much as you like, and harrow it afterwards, if you +can,--but the moon will still lead the tides, and the winds will form +their surface. + +--Do you know Richardson's Dictionary?--I said to my neighbor the +divinity-student. + +Haow?--said the divinity-student.--He colored, as he noticed on my face a +twitch in one of the muscles which tuck up the corner of the mouth, +(zygomaticus major,) and which I could not hold back from making a little +movement on its own account. + +It was too late.--A country-boy, lassoed when he was a half-grown colt. +Just as good as a city-boy, and in some ways, perhaps, better,--but +caught a little too old not to carry some marks of his earlier ways of +life. Foreigners, who have talked a strange tongue half their lives, +return to the language of their childhood in their dying hours. +Gentlemen in fine linen, and scholars in large libraries, taken by +surprise, or in a careless moment, will sometimes let slip a word they +knew as boys in homespun and have not spoken since that time,--but it lay +there under all their culture. That is one way you may know the +country-boys after they have grown rich or celebrated; another is by the +odd old family names, particularly those of the Hebrew prophets, which +the good old people have saddled them with. + +--Boston has enough of England about it to make a good English +dictionary,--said that fresh-looking youth whom I have mentioned as +sitting at the right upper corner of the table. + +I turned and looked him full in the face,--for the pure, manly +intonations arrested me. The voice was youthful, but full of +character.--I suppose some persons have a peculiar susceptibility in the +matter of voice.--Hear this. + +Not long after the American Revolution, a young lady was sitting in her +father's chaise in a street of this town of Boston. She overheard a +little girl talking or singing, and was mightily taken with the tones of +her voice. Nothing would satisfy her but she must have that little girl +come and live in her father's house. So the child came, being then nine +years old. Until her marriage she remained under the same roof with the +young lady. Her children became successively inmates of the lady's +dwelling; and now, seventy years, or thereabouts, since the young lady +heard the child singing, one of that child's children and one of her +grandchildren are with her in that home, where she, no longer young, +except in heart, passes her peaceful days.--Three generations linked +together by so light a breath of accident! + +I liked--the sound of this youth's voice, I said, and his look when I +came to observe him a little more closely. His complexion had something +better than the bloom and freshness which had first attracted me;--it had +that diffused tone which is a sure index of wholesome, lusty life. A +fine liberal style of nature seemed to be: hair crisped, moustache +springing thick and dark, head firmly planted, lips finished, as is +commonly sees them in gentlemen's families, a pupil well contracted, and +a mouth that opened frankly with a white flash of teeth that looked as if +they could serve him as they say Ethan Allen's used to serve their +owner,--to draw nails with. This is the kind of fellow to walk a +frigate's deck and bowl his broadsides into the "Gadlant Thudnder-bomb," +or any forty-port-holed adventurer who would like to exchange a few tons +of iron compliments.--I don't know what put this into my head, for it was +not till some time afterward I learned the young fellow had been in the +naval school at Annapolis. Something had happened to change his plan of +life, and he was now studying engineering and architecture in Boston. + +When the youth made the short remark which drew my attention to him, the +little deformed gentleman turned round and took a long look at him. + +Good for the Boston boy!--he said. + +I am not a Boston boy,--said the youth, smiling,--I am a Marylander. + +I don't care where you come from,--we'll make a Boston man of you,--said +the little gentleman. Pray, what part of Maryland did you come from, and +how shall I call you? + +The poor youth had to speak pretty loud, as he was at the right upper +corner of the table, and the little gentleman next the lower left-hand +corner. His face flushed a little, but he answered pleasantly, telling +who he was, as if the little man's infirmity gave him a right to ask any +questions he wanted to. + +Here is the place for you to sit,--said the little gentleman, pointing to +the vacant chair next his own, at the corner. + +You're go'n' to have a young lady next you, if you wait till +to-morrow,--said the landlady to him. + +He did not reply, but I had a fancy that he changed color. It can't be +that he has susceptibilities with reference to a contingent young lady! +It can't be that he has had experiences which make him sensitive! Nature +could not be quite so cruel as to set a heart throbbing in that poor +little cage of ribs! There is no use in wasting notes of admiration. I +must ask the landlady about him. + +These are some of the facts she furnished.--Has not been long with her. +Brought a sight of furniture,--could n't hardly get some of it upstairs. +Has n't seemed particularly attentive to the ladies. The Bombazine (whom +she calls Cousin something or other) has tried to enter into conversation +with him, but retired with the impression that he was indifferent to +ladies' society. Paid his bill the other day without saying a word about +it. Paid it in gold,--had a great heap of twenty-dollar pieces. Hires +her best room. Thinks he is a very nice little man, but lives dreadful +lonely up in his chamber. Wants the care of some capable nuss. Never +pitied anybody more in her life--never see a more interestin' person. + +--My intention was, when I began making these notes, to let them consist +principally of conversations between myself and the other boarders. So +they will, very probably; but my curiosity is excited about this little +boarder of ours, and my reader must not be disappointed, if I sometimes +interrupt a discussion to give an account of whatever fact or traits I +may discover about him. It so happens that his room is next to mine, and +I have the opportunity of observing many of his ways without any active +movements of curiosity. That his room contains heavy furniture, that he +is a restless little body and is apt to be up late, that he talks to +himself, and keeps mainly to himself, is nearly all I have yet found out. + +One curious circumstance happened lately which I mention without drawing +an absolute inference. Being at the studio of a sculptor with whom I am +acquainted, the other day, I saw a remarkable cast of a left arm. On my +asking where the model came from, he said it was taken direct from the +arm of a deformed person, who had employed one of the Italian moulders to +make the cast. It was a curious case, it should seem, of one beautiful +limb upon a frame otherwise singularly imperfect--I have repeatedly +noticed this little gentleman's use of his left arm. Can he have +furnished the model I saw at the sculptor's? + +--So we are to have a new boarder to-morrow. I hope there will be +something pretty and pleasing about her. A woman with a creamy voice, +and finished in alto rilievo, would be a variety in the +boarding-house,--a little more marrow and a little less sinew than our +landlady and her daughter and the bombazine-clad female, all of whom are +of the turkey-drumstick style of organization. I don't mean that these +are our only female companions; but the rest being conversational +non-combatants, mostly still, sad feeders, who take in their food as +locomotives take in wood and water, and then wither away from the table +like blossoms that never came to fruit, I have not yet referred to them +as individuals. + +I wonder what kind of young person we shall see in that empty chair +to-morrow! + +--I read this song to the boarders after breakfast the other morning. It +was written for our fellows;--you know who they are, of course. + + + + THE BOYS. + + Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys? + If there has, take him out, without making a noise! + Hang the Almanac's cheat and the Catalogue's spite! + Old Time is a liar! We're twenty to-night! + + We're twenty! We're twenty! Who says we are more? + He's tipsy,--young jackanapes!--show him the door! + --"Gray temples at twenty?"--Yes! white, if we please; + Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there's nothing can freeze! + + Was it snowing I spoke of? Excuse the mistake! + Look close,--you will see not a sign of a flake; + We want some new garlands for those we have shed, + And these are white roses in place of the red! + + We've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told. + Of talking (in public) as if we were old; + That boy we call Doctor, (1) and this we call Judge (2) + --It's a neat little fiction,--of course it's all fudge. + + That fellow's the Speaker, (3)--the one on the right; + Mr. Mayor, (4) my young one, how are you to-night? + That's our "Member of Congress,"(5) we say when we chaff; + There's the "Reverend" (6) What's his name?--don't make me laugh! + + That boy with the grave mathematical look(7) + Made believe he had written a wonderful book, + And the ROYAL SOCIETY thought it was true! + So they chose him right in; a good joke it was, too. + + There's a boy,--we pretend,--with a three-decker-brain + That could harness a team with a logical chain: + When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire, + We called him "The Justice,"--but now he's "The Squire."(1) + + And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith,(2) + Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith, + But he shouted a song for the brave and the free, + --Just read on his medal,--"My country,--of thee!" + + You hear that boy laughing?--you think he's all fun, + But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done; + The children laugh loud as they troop to his call, + And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all!(3) + + Yes, we're boys,--always playing with tongue or with pen, + --And I sometimes have asked,--Shall we ever be men? + Shall we always be youthful and laughing and gay, + Till the last dear companion drops smiling away? + + Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray! + The stars of its Winter, the dews of its May! + And when we have done with our life-lasting toys, + Dear Father, take care of thy children, the Boys! + + 1 Francis Thomas. + 2 George Tyler Bigelow. + 3 Francis Boardman Crowninshield. + 4 G. W. Richardson. + 5 George Thomas Davis. + 6 James Freeman Clarke. + 7 Benjamin Peirce. + + + + +III + +[The Professor talks with the Reader. He tells a Young Girl's Story.] + +When the elements that went to the making of the first man, father of +mankind, had been withdrawn from the world of unconscious matter, the +balance of creation was disturbed. The materials that go to the making +of one woman were set free by the abstraction from inanimate nature of +one man's-worth of masculine constituents. These combined to make our +first mother, by a logical necessity involved in the previous creation of +our common father. All this, mythically, illustratively, and by no means +doctrinally or polemically. + +The man implies the woman, you will understand. The excellent gentleman +whom I had the pleasure of setting right in a trifling matter a few weeks +ago believes in the frequent occurrence of miracles at the present day. +So do I. I believe, if you could find an uninhabited coral-reef island, +in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, with plenty of cocoa-palms and +bread-fruit on it, and put a handsome young fellow, like our Marylander, +ashore upon it, if you touched there a year afterwards, you would find +him walking under the palm-trees arm in arm with a pretty woman. + +Where would she come from? + +Oh, that 's the miracle! + +--I was just as certain, when I saw that fine, high-colored youth at the +upper right-hand corner of our table, that there would appear some +fitting feminine counterpart to him, as if I had been a clairvoyant, +seeing it all beforehand. + +--I have a fancy that those Marylanders are just about near enough to the +sun to ripen well.--How some of us fellows remember Joe and Harry, +Baltimoreans, both! Joe, with his cheeks like lady-apples, and his eyes +like black-heart cherries, and his teeth like the whiteness of the flesh +of cocoanuts, and his laugh that set the chandelier-drops rattling +overhead, as we sat at our sparkling banquets in those gay times! Harry, +champion, by acclamation, of the college heavy-weights, broad-shouldered, +bull-necked, square-jawed, six feet and trimmings, a little science, lots +of pluck, good-natured as a steer in peace, formidable as a red-eyed +bison in the crack of hand-to-hand battle! Who forgets the great +muster-day, and the collision of the classic with the democratic forces? +The huge butcher, fifteen stone,--two hundred and ten pounds,--good +weight,--steps out like Telamonian Ajax, defiant. No words from Harry, +the Baltimorean,--one of the quiet sort, who strike first; and do the +talking, if there is any, afterwards. No words, but, in the place +thereof, a clean, straight, hard hit, which took effect with a spank like +the explosion of a percussion-cap, knocking the slayer of beeves down a +sand-bank,--followed, alas! by the too impetuous youth, so that both +rolled down together, and the conflict terminated in one of those +inglorious and inevitable Yankee clinches, followed by a general melee, +which make our native fistic encounters so different from such +admirably-ordered contests as that which I once saw at an English fair, +where everything was done decently and in order; and the fight began and +ended with such grave propriety, that a sporting parson need hardly have +hesitated to open it with a devout petition, and, after it was over, +dismiss the ring with a benediction. + +I can't help telling one more story about this great field-day, though it +is the most wanton and irrelevant digression. But all of us have a +little speck of fight underneath our peace and good-will to men, just a +speck, for revolutions and great emergencies, you know,--so that we +should not submit to be trodden quite flat by the first heavy-heeled +aggressor that came along. You can tell a portrait from an ideal head, I +suppose, and a true story from one spun out of the writer's invention. +See whether this sounds true or not. + +Admiral Sir Isaac Coffin sent out two fine blood-horses, Barefoot and +Serab by name, to Massachusetts, something before the time I am talking +of. With them came a Yorkshire groom, a stocky little fellow, in velvet +breeches, who made that mysterious hissing noise, traditionary in English +stables, when he rubbed down the silken-skinned racers, in great +perfection. After the soldiers had come from the muster-field, and some +of the companies were on the village-common, there was still some +skirmishing between a few individuals who had not had the fight taken out +of them. The little Yorkshire groom thought he must serve out somebody. +So he threw himself into an approved scientific attitude, and, in brief, +emphatic language, expressed his urgent anxiety to accommodate any +classical young gentleman who chose to consider himself a candidate for +his attentions. I don't suppose there were many of the college boys that +would have been a match for him in the art which Englishmen know so much +more of than Americans, for the most part. However, one of the +Sophomores, a very quiet, peaceable fellow, just stepped out of the +crowd, and, running straight at the groom, as he stood there, sparring +away, struck him with the sole of his foot, a straight blow, as if it had +been with his fist, and knocked him heels over head and senseless, so +that he had to be carried off from the field. This ugly way of hitting +is the great trick of the French gavate, which is not commonly thought +able to stand its ground against English pugilistic science. These are +old recollections, with not much to recommend them, except, perhaps, a +dash of life, which may be worth a little something. + +The young Marylander brought them all up, you may remember. He recalled +to my mind those two splendid pieces of vitality I told you of. Both +have been long dead. How often we see these great red-flaring flambeaux +of life blown out, as it were, by a puff of wind,--and the little, +single-wicked night-lamp of being, which some white-faced and attenuated +invalid shades with trembling fingers, flickering on while they go out +one after another, until its glimmer is all that is left to us of the +generation to which it belonged! + +I told you that I was perfectly sure, beforehand, we should find some +pleasing girlish or womanly shape to fill the blank at our table and +match the dark-haired youth at the upper corner. + +There she sits, at the very opposite corner, just as far off as accident +could put her from this handsome fellow, by whose side she ought, of +course, to be sitting. One of the "positive" blondes, as my friend, you +may remember, used to call them. Tawny-haired, amber-eyed, +full-throated, skin as white as a blanched almond. Looks dreamy to me, +not self-conscious, though a black ribbon round her neck sets it off as a +Marie-Antoinette's diamond-necklace could not do. So in her dress, there +is a harmony of tints that looks as if an artist had run his eye over her +and given a hint or two like the finishing touch to a picture. I can't +help being struck with her, for she is at once rounded and fine in +feature, looks calm, as blondes are apt to, and as if she might run wild, +if she were trifled with. It is just as I knew it would be,--and anybody +can see that our young Marylander will be dead in love with her in a +week. + +Then if that little man would only turn out immensely rich and have the +good-nature to die and leave them all his money, it would be as nice as a +three-volume novel. + +The Little Gentleman is in a flurry, I suspect, with the excitement of +having such a charming neighbor next him. I judge so mainly by his +silence and by a certain rapt and serious look on his face, as if he were +thinking of something that had happened, or that might happen, or that +ought to happen,--or how beautiful her young life looked, or how hardly +Nature had dealt with him, or something which struck him silent, at any +rate. I made several conversational openings for him, but he did not +fire up as he often does. I even went so far as to indulge in, a fling +at the State House, which, as we all know, is in truth a very imposing +structure, covering less ground than St. Peter's, but of similar general +effect. The little man looked up, but did not reply to my taunt. He +said to the young lady, however, that the State House was the Parthenon +of our Acropolis, which seemed to please her, for she smiled, and he +reddened a little,--so I thought. I don't think it right to watch +persons who are the subjects of special infirmity,--but we all do it. + +I see that they have crowded the chairs a little at that end of the +table, to make room for another newcomer of the lady sort. A +well-mounted, middle-aged preparation, wearing her hair without a cap, +--pretty wide in the parting, though,--contours vaguely hinted, +--features very quiet,--says little as yet, but seems to keep her eye on +the young lady, as if having some responsibility for her My record is a +blank for some days after this. In the mean time I have contrived to +make out the person and the story of our young lady, who, according to +appearances, ought to furnish us a heroine for a boarding-house romance +before a year is out. It is very curious that she should prove connected +with a person many of us have heard of. Yet, curious as it is, I have +been a hundred times struck with the circumstance that the most remote +facts are constantly striking each other; just as vessels starting from +ports thousands of miles apart pass close to each other in the naked +breadth of the ocean, nay, sometimes even touch, in the dark, with a +crack of timbers, a gurgling of water, a cry of startled sleepers,--a cry +mysteriously echoed in warning dreams, as the wife of some Gloucester +fisherman, some coasting skipper, wakes with a shriek, calls the name of +her husband, and sinks back to uneasy slumbers upon her lonely pillow,--a +widow. + +Oh, these mysterious meetings! Leaving all the vague, waste, endless +spaces of the washing desert, the ocean-steamer and the fishing-smack +sail straight towards each other as if they ran in grooves ploughed for +them in the waters from the beginning of creation! Not only things and +events, but our own thoughts, are so full of these surprises, that, if +there were a reader in my parish who did not recognize the familiar +occurrence of what I am now going to mention, I should think it a case +for the missionaries of the Society for the Propagation of Intelligence +among the Comfortable Classes. There are about as many twins in the +births of thought as of children. For the first time in your lives you +learn some fact or come across some idea. Within an hour, a day, a week, +that same fact or idea strikes you from another quarter. It seems as if +it had passed into space and bounded back upon you as an echo from the +blank wall that shuts in the world of thought. Yet no possible +connection exists between the two channels by which the thought or the +fact arrived. Let me give an infinitesimal illustration. + +One of the Boys mentioned, the other evening, in the course of a very +pleasant poem he read us, a little trick of the Commons-table boarders, +which I, nourished at the parental board, had never heard of. Young +fellows being always hungry--Allow me to stop dead-short, in order to +utter an aphorism which has been forming itself in one of the blank +interior spaces of my intelligence, like a crystal in the cavity of a +geode. + + Aphorism by the Professor. + +In order to know whether a human being is young or old, offer it food of +different kinds at short intervals. If young, it will eat anything at +any hour of the day or night. If old, it observes stated periods, and +you might as well attempt to regulate the time of highwater to suit a +fishing-party as to change these periods. The crucial experiment is this. +Offer a bulky and boggy bun to the suspected individual just ten minutes +before dinner. If this is eagerly accepted and devoured, the fact of +youth is established. If the subject of the question starts back and +expresses surprise and incredulity, as if you could not possibly be in +earnest, the fact of maturity is no less clear. + +--Excuse me,--I return to my story of the Commons-table.--Young fellows +being always hungry, and tea and dry toast being the meagre fare of the +evening meal, it was a trick of some of the Boys to impale a slice of +meat upon a fork, at dinner-time, and stick the fork holding it beneath +the table, so that they could get it at tea-time. The dragons that +guarded this table of the Hesperides found out the trick at last, and +kept a sharp look-out for missing forks;--they knew where to find one, +if it was not in its place.--Now the odd thing was, that, after waiting +so many years to hear of this college trick, I should hear it mentioned a +second time within the same twenty-four hours by a college youth of the +present generation. Strange, but true. And so it has happened to me and +to every person, often and often, to be hit in rapid succession by these +twinned facts or thoughts, as if they were linked like chain-shot. + +I was going to leave the simple reader to wonder over this, taking it as +an unexplained marvel. I think, however, I will turn over a furrow of +subsoil in it.--The explanation is, of course, that in a great many +thoughts there must be a few coincidences, and these instantly arrest our +attention. Now we shall probably never have the least idea of the +enormous number of impressions which pass through our consciousness, +until in some future life we see the photographic record of our thoughts +and the stereoscopic picture of our actions. There go more pieces to make +up a conscious life or a living body than you think for. Why, some of +you were surprised when a friend of mine told you there were fifty-eight +separate pieces in a fiddle. How many "swimming glands"--solid, +organized, regularly formed, rounded disks taking an active part in all +your vital processes, part and parcel, each one of them, of your +corporeal being--do you suppose are whirled along, like pebbles in a +stream, with the blood which warms your frame and colors your cheeks?--A +noted German physiologist spread out a minute drop of blood, under the +microscope, in narrow streaks, and counted the globules, and then made a +calculation. The counting by the micrometer took him a week.--You have, +my full-grown friend, of these little couriers in crimson or scarlet +livery, running on your vital errands day and night as long as you live, +sixty-five billions, five hundred and seventy thousand millions. Errors +excepted.--Did I hear some gentleman say, "Doubted? "--I am the +Professor. I sit in my chair with a petard under it that will blow me +through the skylight of my lecture-room, if I do not know what I am +talking about and whom I am quoting. + +Now, my dear friends, who are putting your hands to your foreheads, and +saying to yourselves that you feel a little confused, as if you had been +waltzing until things began to whirl slightly round you, is it possible +that you do not clearly apprehend the exact connection of all that I have +been saying, and its bearing on what is now to come? Listen, then. The +number of these living elements in our bodies illustrates the +incalculable multitude of our thoughts; the number of our thoughts +accounts for those frequent coincidences spoken of; these coincidences in +the world of thought illustrate those which we constantly observe in the +world of outward events, of which the presence of the young girl now at +our table, and proving to be the daughter of an old acquaintance some of +us may remember, is the special example which led me through this +labyrinth of reflections, and finally lands me at the commencement of +this young girl's story, which, as I said, I have found the time and felt +the interest to learn something of, and which I think I can tell without +wronging the unconscious subject of my brief delineation. +IRIS. + +You remember, perhaps, in some papers published awhile ago, an odd poem +written by an old Latin tutor? He brought up at the verb amo, I love, as +all of us do, and by and by Nature opened her great living dictionary for +him at the word filia, a daughter. The poor man was greatly perplexed in +choosing a name for her. Lucretia and Virginia were the first that he +thought of; but then came up those pictured stories of Titus Livius, +which he could never read without crying, though he had read them a +hundred times. + +--Lucretia sending for her husband and her father, each to bring one +friend with him, and awaiting them in her chamber. To them her wrongs +briefly. Let them see to the wretch,--she will take care of herself. +Then the hidden knife flashes out and sinks into her heart. She slides +from her seat, and falls dying. "Her husband and her father cry +aloud."--No, not Lucretia. + +-Virginius,--a brown old soldier, father of a nice girl. She engaged to +a very promising young man. Decemvir Appius takes a violent fancy to +her,--must have her at any rate. Hires a lawyer to present the arguments +in favor of the view that she was another man's daughter. There used to +be lawyers in Rome that would do such things.--All right. There are two +sides to everything. Audi alteram partem. The legal gentleman has no +opinion,--he only states the evidence.--A doubtful case. Let the young +lady be under the protection of the Honorable Decemvir until it can be +looked up thoroughly.--Father thinks it best, on the whole, to give in. +Will explain the matter, if the young lady and her maid will step this +way. That is the explanation,--a stab with a butcher's knife, snatched +from a stall, meant for other lambs than this poor bleeding Virginia. + +The old man thought over the story. Then he must have one look at the +original. So he took down the first volume and read it over. When he +came to that part where it tells how the young gentleman she was engaged +to and a friend of his took up the poor girl's bloodless shape and +carried it through the street, and how all the women followed, wailing, +and asking if that was what their daughters were coming to,--if that was +what they were to get for being good girls,--he melted down into his +accustomed tears of pity and grief, and, through them all, of delight at +the charming Latin of the narrative. But it was impossible to call his +child Virginia. He could never look at her without thinking she had a +knife sticking in her bosom. + +Dido would be a good name, and a fresh one. She was a queen, and the +founder of a great city. Her story had been immortalized by the greatest +of poets,--for the old Latin tutor clove to "Virgilius Maro," as he +called him, as closely as ever Dante did in his memorable journey. So he +took down his Virgil, it was the smooth-leafed, open-lettered quarto of +Baskerville,--and began reading the loves and mishaps of Dido. It would +n't do. A lady who had not learned discretion by experience, and came to +an evil end. He shook his head, as he sadly repeated, + + "---misera ante diem, subitoque accensa furore;" + +but when he came to the lines, + + "Ergo Iris croceis per coelum roscida pennis + Mille trahens varios adverso Sole colores," + +he jumped up with a great exclamation, which the particular recording +angel who heard it pretended not to understand, or it might have gone +hard with the Latin tutor some time or other. + +"Iris shall be her name!"--he said. So her name was Iris. + +--The natural end of a tutor is to perish by starvation. It is only a +question of time, just as with the burning of college libraries. These +all burn up sooner or later, provided they are not housed in brick or +stone and iron. I don't mean that you will see in the registry of deaths +that this or that particular tutor died of well-marked, uncomplicated +starvation. They may, even, in extreme cases, be carried off by a thin, +watery kind of apoplexy, which sounds very well in the returns, but means +little to those who know that it is only debility settling on the head. +Generally, however, they fade and waste away under various +pretexts,--calling it dyspepsia, consumption, and so on, to put a decent +appearance upon the case and keep up the credit of the family and the +institution where they have passed through the successive stages of +inanition. + +In some cases it takes a great many years to kill a tutor by the process +in question. You see they do get food and clothes and fuel, in +appreciable quantities, such as they are. You will even notice rows of +books in their rooms, and a picture or two,--things that look as if they +had surplus money; but these superfluities are the water of +crystallization to scholars, and you can never get them away till the +poor fellows effloresce into dust. Do not be deceived. The tutor +breakfasts on coffee made of beans, edulcorated with milk watered to the +verge of transparency; his mutton is tough and elastic, up to the moment +when it becomes tired out and tasteless; his coal is a sullen, sulphurous +anthracite, which rusts into ashes, rather than burns, in the shallow +grate; his flimsy broadcloth is too thin for winter and too thick for +summer. The greedy lungs of fifty hot-blooded boys suck the oxygen from +the air he breathes in his recitation-room. In short, he undergoes a +process of gentle and gradual starvation. + +--The mother of little Iris was not called Electra, like hers of the old +story, neither was her grandfather Oceanus. Her blood-name, which she +gave away with her heart to the Latin tutor, was a plain old English one, +and her water-name was Hannah, beautiful as recalling the mother of +Samuel, and admirable as reading equally well from the initial letter +forwards and from the terminal letter backwards. The poor lady, seated +with her companion at the chessboard of matrimony, had but just pushed +forward her one little white pawn upon an empty square, when the Black +Knight, that cares nothing for castles or kings or queens, swooped down +upon her and swept her from the larger board of life. + +The old Latin tutor put a modest blue stone at the head of his late +companion, with her name and age and Eheu! upon it,--a smaller one at her +feet, with initials; and left her by herself, to be rained and snowed +on,--which is a hard thing to do for those whom we have cherished +tenderly. + +About the time that the lichens, falling on the stone, like drops of +water, had spread into fair, round rosettes, the tutor had starved into a +slight cough. Then he began to draw the buckle of his black trousers a +little tighter, and took in another reef in his never-ample waistcoat. +His temples got a little hollow, and the contrasts of color in his cheeks +more vivid than of old. After a while his walks fatigued him, and he was +tired, and breathed hard after going up a flight or two of stairs. Then +came on other marks of inward trouble and general waste, which he spoke +of to his physician as peculiar, and doubtless owing to accidental +causes; to all which the doctor listened with deference, as if it had not +been the old story that one in five or six of mankind in temperate +climates tells, or has told for him, as if it were something new. As the +doctor went out, he said to himself,--"On the rail at last. +Accommodation train. A good many stops, but will get to the station by +and by." So the doctor wrote a recipe with the astrological sign of +Jupiter before it, (just as your own physician does, inestimable reader, +as you will see, if you look at his next prescription,) and departed, +saying he would look in occasionally. After this, the Latin tutor began +the usual course of "getting better," until he got so much better that +his face was very sharp, and when he smiled, three crescent lines showed +at each side of his lips, and when he spoke; it was in a muffled whisper, +and the white of his eye glistened as pearly as the purest porcelain, +--so much better, that he hoped--by spring--he--might be +able--to--attend------to his class again.--But he was recommended not to +expose himself, and so kept his chamber, and occasionally, not having +anything to do, his bed. The unmarried sister with whom he lived took +care of him; and the child, now old enough to be manageable and even +useful in trifling offices, sat in the chamber, or played, about. + +Things could not go on so forever, of course. One morning his face was +sunken and his hands were very, very cold. He was "better," he +whispered, but sadly and faintly. After a while he grew restless and +seemed a little wandering. His mind ran on his classics, and fell back +on the Latin grammar. + +"Iris!" he said,--"filiola mea!"--The child knew this meant my dear +little daughter as well as if it had been English.--"Rainbow!" for he +would translate her name at times,--"come to me,--veni"--and his lips +went on automatically, and murmured, "vel venito!"--The child came and +sat by his bedside and took his hand, which she could not warm, but which +shot its rays of cold all through her slender frame. But there she sat, +looking steadily at him. Presently he opened his lips feebly, and +whispered, "Moribundus." She did not know what that meant, but she saw +that there was something new and sad. So she began to cry; but presently +remembering an old book that seemed to comfort him at times, got up and +brought a Bible in the Latin version, called the Vulgate. "Open it," he +said,--"I will read, segnius irritant,--don't put the light out,--ah! +hoeret lateri,--I am going,--vale, vale, vale, goodbye, good-bye,--the +Lord take care of my child! Domine, audi--vel audito!" His face whitened +suddenly, and he lay still, with open eyes and mouth. He had taken his +last degree. + +--Little Miss Iris could not be said to begin life with a very brilliant +rainbow over her, in a worldly point of view. A limited wardrobe of +man's attire, such as poor tutors wear,--a few good books, principally +classics,--a print or two, and a plaster model of the Pantheon, with some +pieces of furniture which had seen service,--these, and a child's heart +full of tearful recollections and strange doubts and questions, +alternating with the cheap pleasures which are the anodynes of childish +grief; such were the treasures she inherited.--No,--I forgot. With that +kindly sentiment which all of us feel for old men's first +children,--frost-flowers of the early winter season, the old tutor's +students had remembered him at a time when he was laughing and crying +with his new parental emotions, and running to the side of the plain crib +in which his alter egg, as he used to say, was swinging, to hang over the +little heap of stirring clothes, from which looked the minute, red, +downy, still, round face, with unfixed eyes and working lips,--in that +unearthly gravity which has never yet been broken by a smile, and which +gives to the earliest moon-year or two of an infant's life the character +of a first old age, to counterpoise that second childhood which there is +one chance in a dozen it may reach by and by. The boys had remembered +the old man and young father at that tender period of his hard, dry life. +There came to him a fair, silver goblet, embossed with classical figures, +and bearing on a shield the graver words, Ex dono pupillorum. The handle +on its side showed what use the boys had meant it for; and a kind letter +in it, written with the best of feeling, in the worst of Latin, pointed +delicately to its destination. Out of this silver vessel, after a long, +desperate, strangling cry, which marked her first great lesson in the +realities of life, the child took the blue milk, such as poor tutors and +their children get, tempered with water, and sweetened a little, so as to +bring it nearer the standard established by the touching indulgence and +partiality of Nature,--who had mingled an extra allowance of sugar in the +blameless food of the child at its mother's breast, as compared with that +of its infant brothers and sisters of the bovine race. + +But a willow will grow in baked sand wet with rainwater. An air-plant +will grow by feeding on the winds. Nay, those huge forests that +overspread great continents have built themselves up mainly from the +air-currents with which they are always battling. The oak is but a +foliated atmospheric crystal deposited from the aerial ocean that holds +the future vegetable world in solution. The storm that tears its leaves +has paid tribute to its strength, and it breasts the tornado clad in the +spoils of a hundred hurricanes. + +Poor little Iris! What had she in common with the great oak in the +shadow of which we are losing sight of her?--She lived and grew like +that,--this was all. The blue milk ran into her veins and filled them +with thin, pure blood. Her skin was fair, with a faint tinge, such as +the white rosebud shows before it opens. The doctor who had attended +her father was afraid her aunt would hardly be able to "raise" +her,--"delicate child,"--hoped she was not consumptive,--thought +there was a fair chance she would take after her father. + +A very forlorn-looking person, dressed in black, with a white neckcloth, +sent her a memoir of a child who died at the age of two years and eleven +months, after having fully indorsed all the doctrines of the particular +persuasion to which he not only belonged himself, but thought it very +shameful that everybody else did not belong. What with foreboding looks +and dreary death-bed stories, it was a wonder the child made out to live +through it. It saddened her early years, of course,--it distressed her +tender soul with thoughts which, as they cannot be fully taken in, should +be sparingly used as instruments of torture to break down the natural +cheerfulness of a healthy child, or, what is infinitely worse, to cheat a +dying one out of the kind illusions with which the Father of All has +strewed its downward path. + +The child would have died, no doubt, and, if properly managed, might have +added another to the long catalogue of wasting children who have been as +cruelly played upon by spiritual physiologists, often with the best +intentions, as ever the subject of a rare disease by the curious students +of science. + +Fortunately for her, however, a wise instinct had guided the late Latin +tutor in the selection of the partner of his life, and the future mother +of his child. The deceased tutoress was a tranquil, smooth woman, easily +nourished, as such people are,--a quality which is inestimable in a +tutor's wife,--and so it happened that the daughter inherited enough +vitality from the mother to live through childhood and infancy and fight +her way towards womanhood, in spite of the tendencies she derived from +her other parent. + +--Two and two do not always make four, in this matter of hereditary +descent of qualities. Sometimes they make three, and sometimes five. It +seems as if the parental traits at one time showed separate, at another +blended,--that occasionally, the force of two natures is represented in +the derivative one by a diagonal of greater value than either original +line of living movement,--that sometimes there is a loss of vitality +hardly to be accounted for, and again a forward impulse of variable +intensity in some new and unforeseen direction. + +So it was with this child. She had glanced off from her parental +probabilities at an unexpected angle. Instead of taking to classical +learning like her father, or sliding quietly into household duties like +her mother, she broke out early in efforts that pointed in the direction +of Art. As soon as she could hold a pencil she began to sketch outlines +of objects round her with a certain air and spirit. Very extraordinary +horses, but their legs looked as if they could move. Birds unknown to +Audubon, yet flying, as it were, with a rush. Men with impossible legs, +which did yet seem to have a vital connection with their most improbable +bodies. By-and-by the doctor, on his beast,--an old man with a face +looking as if Time had kneaded it like dough with his knuckles, with a +rhubarb tint and flavor pervading himself and his sorrel horse and all +their appurtenances. A dreadful old man! Be sure she did not forget +those saddle-bags that held the detestable bottles out of which he used +to shake those loathsome powders which, to virgin childish palates that +find heaven in strawberries and peaches, are--Well, I suppose I had +better stop. Only she wished she was dead sometimes when she heard him +coming. On the next leaf would figure the gentleman with the black coat +and white cravat, as he looked when he came and entertained her with +stories concerning the death of various little children about her age, to +encourage her, as that wicked Mr. Arouet said about shooting Admiral +Byng. Then she would take her pencil, and with a few scratches there +would be the outline of a child, in which you might notice how one sudden +sweep gave the chubby cheek, and two dots darted at the paper looked like +real eyes. + +By-and-by she went to school, and caricatured the schoolmaster on the +leaves of her grammars and geographies, and drew the faces of her +companions, and, from time to time, heads and figures from her fancy, +with large eyes, far apart, like those of Raffaelle's mothers and +children, sometimes with wild floating hair, and then with wings and +heads thrown back in ecstasy. This was at about twelve years old, as the +dates of these drawings show, and, therefore, three or four years before +she came among us. Soon after this time, the ideal figures began to take +the place of portraits and caricatures, and a new feature appeared in her +drawing-books in the form of fragments of verse and short poems. + +It was dull work, of course, for such a young girl to live with an old +spinster and go to a village school. Her books bore testimony to this; +for there was a look of sadness in the faces she drew, and a sense of +weariness and longing for some imaginary conditions of blessedness or +other, which began to be painful. She might have gone through this +flowering of the soul, and, casting her petals, subsided into a sober, +human berry, but for the intervention of friendly assistance and counsel. + +In the town where she lived was a lady of honorable condition, somewhat +past middle age, who was possessed of pretty ample means, of cultivated +tastes, of excellent principles, of exemplary character, and of more than +common accomplishments. The gentleman in black broadcloth and white +neckerchief only echoed the common voice about her, when he called her, +after enjoying, beneath her hospitable roof, an excellent cup of tea, +with certain elegancies and luxuries he was unaccustomed to, "The Model +of all the Virtues." + +She deserved this title as well as almost any woman. She did really +bristle with moral excellences. Mention any good thing she had not done; +I should like to see you try! There was no handle of weakness to take +hold of her by; she was as unseizable, except in her totality, as a +billiard-ball; and on the broad, green, terrestrial table, where she had +been knocked about, like all of us, by the cue of Fortune, she glanced +from every human contact, and "caromed" from one relation to another, and +rebounded from the stuffed cushion of temptation, with such exact and +perfect angular movements, that the Enemy's corps of Reporters had long +given up taking notes of her conduct, as there was no chance for their +master. + +What an admirable person for the patroness and directress of a slightly +self-willed child, with the lightning zigzag line of genius running like +a glittering vein through the marble whiteness of her virgin nature! One +of the lady-patroness's peculiar virtues was calmness. She was resolute +and strenuous, but still. You could depend on her for every duty; she +was as true as steel. She was kind-hearted and serviceable in all the +relations of life. She had more sense, more knowledge, more +conversation, as well as more goodness, than all the partners you have +waltzed with this winter put together. + +Yet no man was known to have loved her, or even to have offered himself +to her in marriage. It was a great wonder. I am very anxious to +vindicate my character as a philosopher and an observer of Nature by +accounting for this apparently extraordinary fact. + +You may remember certain persons who have the misfortune of presenting to +the friends whom they meet a cold, damp hand. There are states of mind +in which a contact of this kind has a depressing effect on the vital +powers that makes us insensible to all the virtues and graces of the +proprietor of one of these life-absorbing organs. When they touch us, +virtue passes out of us, and we feel as if our electricity had been +drained by a powerful negative battery, carried about by an overgrown +human torpedo. + +"The Model of all the Virtues" had a pair of searching eyes as clear as +Wenham ice; but they were slower to melt than that fickle jewelry. Her +features disordered themselves slightly at times in a surface-smile, but +never broke loose from their corners and indulged in the riotous tumult +of a laugh,--which, I take it, is the mob-law of the features;--and +propriety the magistrate who reads the riot-act. She carried the +brimming cup of her inestimable virtues with a cautious, steady hand, and +an eye always on them, to see that they did not spill. Then she was an +admirable judge of character. Her mind was a perfect laboratory of tests +and reagents; every syllable you put into breath went into her +intellectual eudiometer, and all your thoughts were recorded on +litmus-paper. I think there has rarely been a more admirable woman. +Of course, Miss Iris was immensely and passionately attached +to her.--Well,--these are two highly oxygenated adverbs, +--grateful,--suppose we say,--yes,--grateful, dutiful, obedient to her +wishes for the most part,--perhaps not quite up to the concert pitch of +such a perfect orchestra of the virtues. + +We must have a weak spot or two in a character before we can love it +much. People that do not laugh or cry, or take more of anything than is +good for them, or use anything but dictionary-words, are admirable +subjects for biographies. But we don't always care most for those +flat-pattern flowers that press best in the herbarium. + +This immaculate woman,--why could n't she have a fault or two? Is n't +there any old whisper which will tarnish that wearisome aureole of +saintly perfection? Does n't she carry a lump of opium in her pocket? +Is n't her cologne-bottle replenished oftener than its legitimate use +would require? It would be such a comfort! + +Not for the world would a young creature like Iris have let such words +escape her, or such thoughts pass through her mind. Whether at the +bottom of her soul lies any uneasy consciousness of an oppressive +presence, it is hard to say, until we know more about her. Iris sits +between the Little Gentleman and the "Model of all the Virtues," as the +black-coated personage called her.--I will watch them all. + +--Here I stop for the present. What the Professor said has had to make +way this time for what he saw and heard. + +-And now you may read these lines, which were written for gentle souls +who love music, and read in even tones, and, perhaps, with something like +a smile upon the reader's lips, at a meeting where these musical friends +had gathered. Whether they were written with smiles or not, you can +guess better after you have read them. + + + THE OPENING OF THE PIANO. + + In the little southern parlor of the house you may have seen + With the gambrel-roof, and the gable looking westward to the green, + At the side toward the sunset, with the window on its right, + Stood the London-made piano I am dreaming of to-night. + + Ah me! how I remember the evening when it came! + What a cry of eager voices, what a group of cheeks in flame, + When the wondrous boa was opened that had come from over seas, + With its smell of mastic-varnish and its flash of ivory keys! + + Then the children all grew fretful in the restlessness of joy, + For the boy would push his sister, and the sister crowd the boy, + Till the father asked for quiet in his grave paternal way, + But the mother hushed the tumult with the words, "Now, Mary, play." + + For the dear soul knew that music was a very sovereign balm; + She had sprinkled it over Sorrow and seen its brow grow calm, + In the days of slender harpsichords with tapping tinkling quills, + Or caroling to her spinet with its thin metallic thrills. + + So Mary, the household minstrel, who always loved to please, + Sat down to the new "Clementi," and struck the glittering keys. + Hushed were the children's voices, and every eye grew dim, + As, floating from lip and finger, arose the "Vesper Hymn." + + --Catharine, child of a neighbor, curly and rosy-red, + (Wedded since, and a widow,--something like ten years dead,) + Hearing a gush of music such as none before, + Steals from her mother's chamber and peeps at the open door. + + Just as the "Jubilate" in threaded whisper dies, + --"Open it! open it, lady!" the little maiden cries, + (For she thought 't was a singing creature caged in a box she heard,) + "Open it! open it, lady! and let me see the bird!" + + + + +IV + +I don't know whether our literary or professional people are more amiable +than they are in other places, but certainly quarrelling is out of +fashion among them. This could never be, if they were in the habit of +secret anonymous puffing of each other. That is the kind of underground +machinery which manufactures false reputations and genuine hatreds. On +the other hand, I should like to know if we are not at liberty to have a +good time together, and say the pleasantest things we can think of to +each other, when any of us reaches his thirtieth or fortieth or fiftieth +or eightieth birthday. + +We don't have "scenes," I warrant you, on these occasions. No "surprise" +parties! You understand these, of course. In the rural districts, where +scenic tragedy and melodrama cannot be had, as in the city, at the +expense of a quarter and a white pocket-handkerchief, emotional +excitement has to be sought in the dramas of real life. Christenings, +weddings, and funerals, especially the latter, are the main dependence; +but babies, brides, and deceased citizens cannot be had at a day's +notice. Now, then, for a surprise-party! + +A bag of flour, a barrel of potatoes, some strings of onions, a basket of +apples, a big cake and many little cakes, a jug of lemonade, a purse +stuffed with bills of the more modest denominations, may, perhaps, do +well enough for the properties in one of these private theatrical +exhibitions. The minister of the parish, a tender-hearted, quiet, +hard-working man, living on a small salary, with many children, sometimes +pinched to feed and clothe them, praying fervently every day to be blest +in his "basket and store," but sometimes fearing he asks amiss, to judge +by the small returns, has the first role,--not, however, by his own +choice, but forced upon him. The minister's wife, a sharp-eyed, +unsentimental body, is first lady; the remaining parts by the rest of the +family. If they only had a playbill, it would run thus: + + ON TUESDAY NEXT + WILL BE PRESENTED + THE AFFECTING SCENE + CALLED + + THE SURPRISE-PARTY + + OR + + THE OVERCOME FAMILY; + +WITH THE FOLLOWING STRONG CAST OF CHARACTERS. + + The Rev. Mr. Overcome, by the Clergyman of this Parish. + Mrs. Overcome, by his estimable lady. + Masters Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John Overcome, + Misses Dorcas, Tabitha, Rachel, and Hannah, Overcome, by their + interesting children. + Peggy, by the female help. + +The poor man is really grateful;--it is a most welcome and unexpected +relief. He tries to express his thanks,--his voice falters,--he +chokes,--and bursts into tears. That is the great effect of the evening. +The sharp-sighted lady cries a little with one eye, and counts the +strings of onions, and the rest of the things, with the other. The +children stand ready for a spring at the apples. The female help weeps +after the noisy fashion of untutored handmaids. + +Now this is all very well as charity, but do let the kind visitors +remember they get their money's worth. If you pay a quarter for dry +crying, done by a second-rate actor, how much ought you to pay for real +hot, wet tears, out of the honest eyes of a gentleman who is not acting, +but sobbing in earnest? + +All I meant to say, when I began, was, that this was not a surprise-party +where I read these few lines that follow: + + We will not speak of years to-night; + For what have years to bring, + But larger floods of love and light + And sweeter songs to sing? + + We will not drown in wordy praise + The kindly thoughts that rise; + If friendship owns one tender phrase, + He reads it in our eyes. + + We need not waste our schoolboy art + To gild this notch of time; + Forgive me, if my wayward heart + Has throbbed in artless rhyme. + + Enough for him the silent grasp + That knits us hand in hand, + And he the bracelet's radiant clasp + That locks our circling band. + + Strength to his hours of manly toil! + Peace to his starlit dreams! + Who loves alike the furrowed soil, + The music-haunted streams! + + Sweet smiles to keep forever bright + The sunshine on his lips, + And faith, that sees the ring of light + Round Nature's last eclipse! + +--One of our boarders has been talking in such strong language that I am +almost afraid to report it. However, as he seems to be really honest and +is so very sincere in his local prejudices, I don't believe anybody will +be very angry with him. + +It is here, Sir! right here!--said the little deformed gentleman,--in +this old new city of Boston,--this remote provincial corner of a +provincial nation, that the Battle of the Standard is fighting, and was +fighting before we were born, and will be fighting when we are dead and +gone,--please God! The battle goes on everywhere throughout +civilization; but here, here, here is the broad white flag flying which +proclaims, first of all, peace and good-will to men, and, next to that, +the absolute, unconditional spiritual liberty of each individual immortal +soul! The three-hilled city against the seven-hilled city! That is it, +Sir,--nothing less than that; and if you know what that means, I don't +think you'll ask for anything more. I swear to you, Sir, I believe that +these two centres of civilization are just exactly the two points that +close the circuit in the battery of our planetary intelligence! And I +believe there are spiritual eyes looking out from Uranus and unseen +Neptune,--ay, Sir, from the systems of Sirius and Arcturus and Aldebaran, +and as far as that faint stain of sprinkled worlds confluent in the +distance that we call the nebula of Orion,--looking on, Sir, with what +organs I know not, to see which are going to melt in that fiery fusion, +the accidents and hindrances of humanity or man himself, Sir,--the +stupendous abortion, the illustrious failure that he is, if the +three-hilled city does not ride down and trample out the seven-hilled +city! + +--Steam 's up!--said the young man John, so called, in a low tone. +--Three hundred and sixty-five tons to the square inch. Let him blow her +off, or he'll bu'st his b'iler. + +The divinity-student took it calmly, only whispering that he thought +there was a little confusion of images between a galvanic battery and a +charge of cavalry. + +But the Koh-i-noor--the gentleman, you remember, with a very large +diamond in his shirt-front laughed his scornful laugh, and made as if to +speak. + +Sail in, Metropolis!--said that same young man John, by name. And then, +in a lower lane, not meaning to be heard,--Now, then, Ma'am Allen! + +But he was heard,--and the Koh-i-noor's face turned so white with rage, +that his blue-black moustache and beard looked fearful, seen against it. +He grinned with wrath, and caught at a tumbler, as if he would have +thrown it or its contents at the speaker. The young Marylander fixed his +clear, steady eye upon him, and laid his hand on his arm, carelessly +almost, but the Jewel found it was held so that he could not move it. It +was of no use. The youth was his master in muscle, and in that deadly +Indian hug in which men wrestle with their eyes;--over in five seconds, +but breaks one of their two backs, and is good for threescore years and +ten;--one trial enough,--settles the whole matter,--just as when two +feathered songsters of the barnyard, game and dunghill, come +together,-after a jump or two at each other, and a few sharp kicks, there +is the end of it; and it is, Apres vous, Monsieur, with the beaten party +in all the social relations for all the rest of his days. + +I cannot philosophically account for the Koh-i-noor's wrath. For though +a cosmetic is sold, bearing the name of the lady to whom reference was +made by the young person John, yet, as it is publicly asserted in +respectable prints that this cosmetic is not a dye, I see no reason why +he should have felt offended by any suggestion that he was indebted to it +or its authoress. + +I have no doubt that there are certain exceptional complexions to which +the purple tinge, above alluded to, is natural. Nature is fertile in +variety. I saw an albiness in London once, for sixpence, (including the +inspection of a stuffed boa-constrictor,) who looked as if she had been +boiled in milk. A young Hottentot of my acquaintance had his hair all in +little pellets of the size of marrow-fat peas. One of my own classmates +has undergone a singular change of late years,--his hair losing its +original tint, and getting a remarkable discolored look; and another has +ceased to cultivate any hair at all over the vertex or crown of the head. +So I am perfectly willing to believe that the purple-black of the +Koh-i-noor's moustache and whiskers is constitutional and not pigmentary. +But I can't think why he got so angry. + +The intelligent reader will understand that all this pantomime of the +threatened onslaught and its suppression passed so quickly that it was +all over by the time the other end of the table found out there was a +disturbance; just as a man chopping wood half a mile off may be seen +resting on his axe at the instant you hear the last blow he struck. So +you will please to observe that the Little Gentleman was not, interrupted +during the time implied by these ex-post-facto remarks of mine, but for +some ten or fifteen seconds only. + +He did not seem to mind the interruption at all, for he started again. +The "Sir" of his harangue was no doubt addressed to myself more than +anybody else, but he often uses it in discourse as if he were talking +with some imaginary opponent. + +--America, Sir,--he exclaimed,--is the only place where man is +full-grown! + +He straightened himself up, as he spoke, standing on the top round of his +high chair, I suppose, and so presented the larger part of his little +figure to the view of the boarders. + +It was next to impossible to keep from laughing. The commentary was so +strange an illustration of the text! I thought it was time to put in a +word; for I have lived in foreign parts, and am more or less +cosmopolitan. + +I doubt if we have more practical freedom in America than they have in +England,---I said.--An Englishman thinks as he likes in religion and +politics. Mr. Martineau speculates as freely as ever Dr. Channing did, +and Mr. Bright is as independent as Mr. Seward. + +Sir,--said he,--it is n't what a man thinks or says; but when and where +and to whom he thinks and says it. A man with a flint and steel striking +sparks over a wet blanket is one thing, and striking them over a +tinder-box is another. The free Englishman is born under protest; he +lives and dies under protest,--a tolerated, but not a welcome fact. Is +not freethinker a term of reproach in England? The same idea in the soul +of an Englishman who struggled up to it and still holds it +antagonistically, and in the soul of an American to whom it is congenital +and spontaneous, and often unrecognized, except as an element blended +with all his thoughts, a natural movement, like the drawing of his breath +or the beating of his heart, is a very different thing. You may teach a +quadruped to walk on his hind legs, but he is always wanting to be on all +fours. Nothing that can be taught a growing youth is like the +atmospheric knowledge he breathes from his infancy upwards. The American +baby sucks in freedom with the milk of the breast at which he hangs. + +--That's a good joke,--said the young fellow John,--considerin' it +commonly belongs to a female Paddy. + +I thought--I will not be certain--that the Little Gentleman winked, as if +he had been hit somewhere--as I have no doubt Dr. Darwin did when the +wooden-spoon suggestion upset his theory about why, etc. If he winked, +however, he did not dodge. + +A lively comment!--he said.--But Rome, in her great founder, sucked the +blood of empire out of the dugs of a brute, Sir! The Milesian wet-nurse +is only a convenient vessel through which the American infant gets the +life-blood of this virgin soil, Sir, that is making man over again, on +the sunset pattern! You don't think what we are doing and going to do +here. Why, Sir, while commentators are bothering themselves with +interpretation of prophecies, we have got the new heavens and the new +earth over us and under us! Was there ever anything in Italy, I should +like to know, like a Boston sunset? + +--This time there was a laugh, and the little man himself almost smiled. + +Yes,--Boston sunsets;--perhaps they're as good in some other places, but +I know 'em best here. Anyhow, the American skies are different from +anything they see in the Old World. Yes, and the rocks are different, +and the soil is different, and everything that comes out of the soil, +from grass up to Indians, is different. And now that the provisional +races are dying out-- + +--What do you mean by the provisional races, Sir?--said the +divinity-student, interrupting him. + +Why, the aboriginal bipeds, to be sure,--he answered,--the red-crayon +sketch of humanity laid on the canvas before the colors for the real +manhood were ready. + +I hope they will come to something yet,--said the divinity-student. + +Irreclaimable, Sir,--irreclaimable!--said the Little Gentleman.--Cheaper +to breed white men than domesticate a nation of red ones. When you can +get the bitter out of the partridge's thigh, you can make an enlightened +commonwealth of Indians. A provisional race, Sir,--nothing more. +Exhaled carbonic acid for the use of vegetation, kept down the bears and +catamounts, enjoyed themselves in scalping and being scalped, and then +passed away or are passing away, according to the programme. + +Well, Sir, these races dying out, the white man has to acclimate himself. +It takes him a good while; but he will come all right by-and-by, Sir,--as +sound as a woodchuck,--as sound as a musquash! + +A new nursery, Sir, with Lake Superior and Huron and all the rest of 'em +for wash-basins! A new race, and a whole new world for the new-born +human soul to work in! And Boston is the brain of it, and has been any +time these hundred years! That's all I claim for Boston,--that it is +the thinking centre of the continent, and therefore of the planet. + +--And the grand emporium of modesty,--said the divinity-student, a little +mischievously. + +Oh, don't talk to me of modesty!--answered the Little Gentleman,--I 'm +past that! There is n't a thing that was ever said or done in Boston, +from pitching the tea overboard to the last ecclesiastical lie it tore +into tatters and flung into the dock, that was n't thought very +indelicate by some fool or tyrant or bigot, and all the entrails of +commercial and spiritual conservatism are twisted into colics as often as +this revolutionary brain of ours has a fit of thinking come over it.--No, +Sir,--show me any other place that is, or was since the megalosaurus has +died out, where wealth and social influence are so fairly divided between +the stationary and the progressive classes! Show me any other place +where every other drawing-room is not a chamber of the Inquisition, with +papas and mammas for inquisitors,--and the cold shoulder, instead of the +"dry pan and the gradual fire," the punishment of "heresy"! + +--We think Baltimore is a pretty civilized kind of a village,--said the +young Marylander, good-naturedly.--But I suppose you can't forgive it for +always keeping a little ahead of Boston in point of numbers,--tell the +truth now. Are we not the centre of something? + +Ah, indeed, to be sure you are. You are the gastronomic metropolis of +the Union. Why don't you put a canvas-back-duck on the top of the +Washington column? Why don't you get that lady off from Battle Monument +and plant a terrapin in her place? Why will you ask for other glories +when you have soft crabs? No, Sir,--you live too well to think as hard +as we do in Boston. Logic comes to us with the salt-fish of Cape Ann; +rhetoric is born of the beans of Beverly; but you--if you open your +mouths to speak, Nature stops them with a fat oyster, or offers a slice +of the breast of your divine bird, and silences all your aspirations. + +And what of Philadelphia?--said the Marylander. + +Oh, Philadelphia?--Waterworks,--killed by the Croton and Cochituate; +--Ben Franklin,--borrowed from Boston;--David Rittenhouse,--made an +orrery;--Benjamin Rush,--made a medical system;--both interesting to +antiquarians;--great Red-river raft of medical students,--spontaneous +generation of professors to match;--more widely known through the +Moyamensing hose-company, and the Wistar parties;-for geological section +of social strata, go to The Club.--Good place to live in,--first-rate +market,--tip-top peaches.--What do we know about Philadelphia, except +that the engine-companies are always shooting each other? + +And what do you say to New York?--asked the Koh-i-noor. + +A great city, Sir,--replied the Little Gentleman,--a very opulent, +splendid city. A point of transit of much that is remarkable, and of +permanence for much that is respectable. A great money-centre. San +Francisco with the mines above-ground,--and some of 'em under the +sidewalks. I have seen next to nothing grandiose, out of New York, in +all our cities. It makes 'em all look paltry and petty. Has many +elements of civilization. May stop where Venice did, though, for aught +we know.--The order of its development is just this:--Wealth; +architecture; upholstery; painting; sculpture. Printing, as a mechanical +art,--just as Nicholas Jepson and the Aldi, who were scholars too, made +Venice renowned for it. Journalism, which is the accident of business +and crowded populations, in great perfection. Venice got as far as Titian +and Paul Veronese and Tintoretto,--great colorists, mark you, magnificent +on the flesh-and-blood side of Art,--but look over to Florence and see +who lie in Santa Crocea, and ask out of whose loins Dante sprung! + +Oh, yes, to be sure, Venice built her Ducal Palace, and her Church of St. +Mark, and her Casa d' Or, and the rest of her golden houses; and Venice +had great pictures and good music; and Venice had a Golden Book, in which +all the large tax-payers had their names written;--but all that did not +make Venice the brain of Italy. + +I tell you what, Sir,--with all these magnificent appliances of +civilization, it is time we began to hear something from the djinnis +donee whose names are on the Golden Book of our sumptuous, splendid, +marble-placed Venice,--something in the higher walks of literature, +--something in the councils of the nation. Plenty of Art, I grant you, +Sir; now, then, for vast libraries, and for mighty scholars and thinkers +and statesmen,--five for every Boston one, as the population is to +ours,--ten to one more properly, in virtue of centralizing attraction as +the alleged metropolis, and not call our people provincials, and have to +come begging to us to write the lives of Hendrik Hudson and Gouverneur +Morris! + +--The Little Gentleman was on his hobby, exalting his own city at the +expense of every other place. I have my doubts if he had been in either +of the cities he had been talking about. I was just going to say +something to sober him down, if I could, when the young Marylander spoke +up. + +Come, now,--he said,--what's the use of these comparisons? Did n't I +hear this gentleman saying, the other day, that every American owns all +America? If you have really got more brains in Boston than other folks, +as you seem to think, who hates you for it, except a pack of scribbling +fools? If I like Broadway better than Washington Street, what then? I +own them both, as much as anybody owns either. I am an American,--and +wherever I look up and see the stars and stripes overhead, that is home +to me! + +He spoke, and looked up as if he heard the emblazoned folds crackling +over him in the breeze. We all looked up involuntarily, as if we should +see the national flag by so doing. The sight of the dingy ceiling and +the gas-fixture depending therefrom dispelled the illusion. + +Bravo! bravo!--said the venerable gentleman on the other side of the +table.--Those are the sentiments of Washington's Farewell Address. +Nothing better than that since the last chapter in Revelations. +Five-and-forty years ago there used to be Washington societies, and +little boys used to walk in processions, each little boy having a copy of +the Address, bound in red, hung round his neck by a ribbon. Why don't +they now? Why don't they now? I saw enough of hating each other in the +old Federal times; now let's love each other, I say,--let's love each +other, and not try to make it out that there is n't any place fit to live +in except the one we happen to be born in. + +It dwarfs the mind, I think,--said I,--to feed it on any localism. The +full stature of manhood is shrivelled-- + +The color burst up into my cheeks. What was I saying,--I, who would not +for the world have pained our unfortunate little boarder by an allusion? + +I will go,--he said,--and made a movement with his left arm to let +himself down from his high chair. + +No,--no,--he does n't mean it,--you must not go,--said a kind voice next +him; and a soft, white hand was laid upon his arm. + +Iris, my dear!--exclaimed another voice, as of a female, in accents that +might be considered a strong atmospheric solution of duty with very +little flavor of grace. + +She did not move for this address, and there was a tableau that lasted +some seconds. For the young girl, in the glory of half-blown womanhood, +and the dwarf, the cripple, the misshapen little creature covered with +Nature's insults, looked straight into each other's eyes. + +Perhaps no handsome young woman had ever looked at him so in his life. +Certainly the young girl never had looked into eyes that reached into her +soul as these did. It was not that they were in themselves +supernaturally bright,--but there was the sad fire in them that flames up +from the soul of one who looks on the beauty of woman without hope, but, +alas! not without emotion. To him it seemed as if those amber gates had +been translucent as the brown water of a mountain brook, and through them +he had seen dimly into a virgin wilderness, only waiting for the sunrise +of a great passion for all its buds to blow and all its bowers to ring +with melody. + +That is my image, of course,--not his. It was not a simile that was in +his mind, or is in anybody's at such a moment,--it was a pang of wordless +passion, and then a silent, inward moan. + +A lady's wish,--he said, with a certain gallantry of manner,--makes +slaves of us all.--And Nature, who is kind to all her children, and never +leaves the smallest and saddest of all her human failures without one +little comfit of self-love at the bottom of his poor ragged +pocket,--Nature suggested to him that he had turned his sentence well; +and he fell into a reverie, in which the old thoughts that were always +hovering dust outside the doors guarded by Common Sense, and watching for +a chance to squeeze in, knowing perfectly well they would be +ignominiously kicked out again as soon as Common Sense saw them, flocked +in pell-mell,--misty, fragmentary, vague, half-ashamed of themselves, but +still shouldering up against his inner consciousness till it warmed with +their contact:--John Wilkes's--the ugliest man's in England--saying, that +with half-an-hour's start he would cut out the handsomest man in all the +land in any woman's good graces; Cadenus--old and savage--leading captive +Stella and Vanessa; and then the stray line of a ballad, "And a winning +tongue had he,"--as much as to say, it is n't looks, after all, but +cunning words, that win our Eves over,--just as of old when it was the +worst-looking brute of the lot that got our grandmother to listen to his +stuff and so did the mischief. + +Ah, dear me! We rehearse the part of Hercules with his club, subjugating +man and woman in our fancy, the first by the weight of it, and the second +by our handling of it,--we rehearse it, I say, by our own hearth-stones, +with the cold poker as our club, and the exercise is easy. But when we +come to real life, the poker is in the fore, and, ten to one, if we would +grasp it, we find it too hot to hold;--lucky for us, if it is not +white-hot, and we do not have to leave the skin of our hands sticking to +it when we fling it down or drop it with a loud or silent cry! + +--I am frightened when I find into what a labyrinth of human character +and feeling I am winding. I meant to tell my thoughts, and to throw in a +few studies of manner and costume as they pictured themselves for me from +day to day. Chance has thrown together at the table with me a number of +persons who are worth studying, and I mean not only to look on them, but, +if I can, through them. You can get any man's or woman's secret, whose +sphere is circumscribed by your own, if you will only look patiently on +them long enough. Nature is always applying her reagents to character, +if you will take the pains to watch her. Our studies of character, to +change the image, are very much like the surveyor's triangulation of a +geographical province. We get a base-line in organization, always; then +we get an angle by sighting some distant object to which the passions or +aspirations of the subject of our observation are tending; then +another;--and so we construct our first triangle. Once fix a man's +ideals, and for the most part the rest is easy. A wants to die worth +half a million. Good. B (female) wants to catch him,--and outlive him. +All right. Minor details at our leisure. + +What is it, of all your experiences, of all your thoughts, of all your +misdoings, that lies at the very bottom of the great heap of acts of +consciousness which make up your past life? What should you most dislike +to tell your nearest friend?--Be so good as to pause for a brief space, +and shut the volume you hold with your finger between the pages.--Oh, +that is it! + +What a confessional I have been sitting at, with the inward ear of my +soul open, as the multitudinous whisper of my involuntary confidants came +back to me like the reduplicated echo of a cry among the craggy bills! + +At the house of a friend where I once passed the night was one of those +stately upright cabinet desks and cases of drawers which were not rare in +prosperous families during the last century. It had held the clothes and +the books and the papers of generation after generation. The hands that +opened its drawers had grown withered, shrivelled, and at last been +folded in death. The children that played with the lower handles had got +tall enough to open the desk, to reach the upper shelves behind the +folding-doors,--grown bent after a while,--and then followed those who +had gone before, and left the old cabinet to be ransacked by a new +generation. + +A boy of ten or twelve was looking at it a few years ago, and, being a +quick-witted fellow, saw that all the space was not accounted for by the +smaller drawers in the part beneath the lid of the desk. Prying about +with busy eyes and fingers, he at length came upon a spring, on pressing +which, a secret drawer flew from its hiding-place. It had never been +opened but by the maker. The mahogany shavings and dust were lying in it +as when the artisan closed it,--and when I saw it, it was as fresh as if +that day finished. + +Is there not one little drawer in your soul, my sweet reader, which no +hand but yours has ever opened, and which none that have known you seem +to have suspected? What does it hold?--A sin?--I hope not. What a +strange thing an old dead sin laid away in a secret drawer of the soul +is! Must it some time or other be moistened with tears, until it comes +to life again and begins to stir in our consciousness,--as the dry +wheel-animalcule, looking like a grain of dust, becomes alive, if it is +wet with a drop of water? + +Or is it a passion? There are plenty of withered men and women walking +about the streets who have the secret drawer in their hearts, which, if +it were opened, would show as fresh as it was when they were in the flush +of youth and its first trembling emotions. + +What it held will, perhaps, never be known, until they are dead and gone, +and same curious eye lights on an old yellow letter with the fossil +footprints of the extinct passion trodden thick all over it. + +There is not a boarder at our table, I firmly believe, excepting the +young girl, who has not a story of the heart to tell, if one could only +get the secret drawer open. Even this arid female, whose armor of black +bombazine looks stronger against the shafts of love than any cuirass of +triple brass, has had her sentimental history, if I am not mistaken. I +will tell you my reason for suspecting it. + +Like many other old women, she shows a great nervousness and restlessness +whenever I venture to express any opinion upon a class of subjects which +can hardly be said to belong to any man or set of men as their strictly +private property,--not even to the clergy, or the newspapers commonly +called "religious." Now, although it would be a great luxury to me to +obtain my opinions by contract, ready-made, from a professional man, and +although I have a constitutional kindly feeling to all sorts of good +people which would make me happy to agree with all their beliefs, if that +were possible, still I must have an idea, now and then, as to the meaning +of life; and though the only condition of peace in this world is to have +no ideas, or, at least, not to express them, with reference to such +subjects, I can't afford to pay quite so much as that even for peace. + +I find that there is a very prevalent opinion among the dwellers on the +shores of Sir Isaac Newton's Ocean of Truth, that salt, fish, which have +been taken from it a good while ago, split open, cured and dried, are the +only proper and allowable food for reasonable people. I maintain, on the +other hand, that there are a number of live fish still swimming in it, +and that every one of us has a right to see if he cannot catch some of +them. Sometimes I please myself with the idea that I have landed an +actual living fish, small, perhaps, but with rosy gills and silvery +scales. Then I find the consumers of nothing but the salted and dried +article insist that it is poisonous, simply because it is alive, and cry +out to people not to touch it. I have not found, however, that people +mind them much. + +The poor boarder in bombazine is my dynamometer. I try every +questionable proposition on her. If she winces, I must be prepared for +an outcry from the other old women. I frightened her, the other day, by +saying that faith, as an intellectual state, was self-reliance, which, if +you have a metaphysical turn, you will find is not so much of a paradox +as it sounds at first. So she sent me a book to read which was to cure +me of that error. It was an old book, and looked as if it had not been +opened for a long time. What should drop out of it, one day, but a small +heart-shaped paper, containing a lock of that straight, coarse, brown +hair which sets off the sharp faces of so many thin-flanked, large-handed +bumpkins! I read upon the paper the name "Hiram."--Love! love! +love!--everywhere! everywhere!--under diamonds and housemaids' +"jewelry,"--lifting the marrowy camel's-hair, and rustling even the black +bombazine!--No, no,--I think she never was pretty, but she was young +once, and wore bright ginghams, and, perhaps, gay merinos. We shall find +that the poor little crooked man has been in love, or is in love, or will +be in love before we have done with him, for aught that I know! + +Romance! Was there ever a boarding-house in the world where the +seemingly prosaic table had not a living fresco for its background, where +you could see, if you had eyes, the smoke and fire of some upheaving +sentiment, or the dreary craters of smouldering or burnt-out passions? +You look on the black bombazine and high-necked decorum of your neighbor, +and no more think of the real life that underlies this despoiled and +dismantled womanhood than you think of a stone trilobite as having once +been full of the juices and the nervous thrills of throbbing and +self-conscious being. There is a wild creature under that long yellow +pin which serves as brooch for the bombazine cuirass,--a wild creature, +which I venture to say would leap in his cage, if I should stir him, +quiet as you think him. A heart which has been domesticated by matrimony +and maternity is as tranquil as a tame bullfinch; but a wild heart which +has never been fairly broken in flutters fiercely long after you think +time has tamed it down,--like that purple finch I had the other day, +which could not be approached without such palpitations and frantic +flings against the bars of his cage, that I had to send him back and get +a little orthodox canary which had learned to be quiet and never mind the +wires or his keeper's handling. I will tell you my wicked, but half +involuntary experiment on the wild heart under the faded bombazine. + +Was there ever a person in the room with you, marked by any special +weakness or peculiarity, with whom you could be two hours and not touch +the infirm spot? I confess the most frightful tendency to do just this +thing. If a man has a brogue, I am sure to catch myself imitating it. +If another is lame, I follow him, or, worse than that, go before him, +limping. + +I could never meet an Irish gentleman--if it had been the Duke of +Wellington himself--without stumbling upon the word "Paddy,"--which I use +rarely in my common talk. + +I have been worried to know whether this was owing to some innate +depravity of disposition on my part, some malignant torturing instinct, +which, under different circumstances, might have made a Fijian +anthropophagus of me, or to some law of thought for which I was not +answerable. It is, I am convinced, a kind of physical fact like +endosmosis, with which some of you are acquainted. A thin film of +politeness separates the unspoken and unspeakable current of thought from +the stream of conversation. After a time one begins to soak through and +mingle with the other. + +We were talking about names, one day.--Was there ever anything,--I +said,--like the Yankee for inventing the most uncouth, pretentious, +detestable appellations,--inventing or finding them,--since the time of +Praise-God Barebones? I heard a country-boy once talking of another whom +he called Elpit, as I understood him. Elbridge is common enough, but +this sounded oddly. It seems the boy was christened Lord Pitt,--and +called for convenience, as above. I have heard a charming little girl, +belonging to an intelligent family in the country, called Anges +invariably; doubtless intended for Agnes. Names are cheap. How can a man +name an innocent new-born child, that never did him any harm, Hiram?--The +poor relation, or whatever she is, in bombazine, turned toward me, but I +was stupid, and went on.--To think of a man going through life saddled +with such an abominable name as that!--The poor relation grew very +uneasy.--I continued; for I never thought of all this till afterwards.--I +knew one young fellow, a good many years ago, by the name of +Hiram--What's got into you, Cousin,--said our landlady,--to look +so?--There! you 've upset your teacup! + +It suddenly occurred to me what I had been doing, and I saw the poor +woman had her hand at her throat; she was half-choking with the "hysteric +ball,"--a very odd symptom, as you know, which nervous women often +complain of. What business had I to be trying experiments on this +forlorn old soul? I had a great deal better be watching that young girl. + +Ah, the young girl! I am sure that she can hide nothing from me. Her +skin is so transparent that one can almost count her heart-beats by the +flushes they send into her cheeks. She does not seem to be shy, either. +I think she does not know enough of danger to be timid. She seems to me +like one of those birds that travellers tell of, found in remote, +uninhabited islands, who, having never received any wrong at the hand of +man, show no alarm at and hardly any particular consciousness of his +presence. + +The first thing will be to see how she and our little deformed gentleman +get along together; for, as I have told you, they sit side by side. The +next thing will be to keep an eye on the duenna,--the "Model" and so +forth, as the white-neck-cloth called her. The intention of that +estimable lady is, I understand, to launch her and leave her. I suppose +there is no help for it, and I don't doubt this young lady knows how to +take care of herself, but I do not like to see young girls turned loose +in boarding-houses. Look here now! There is that jewel of his race, whom +I have called for convenience the Koh-i-noor, (you understand it is quite +out of the question for me to use the family names of our boarders, +unless I want to get into trouble,)--I say, the gentleman with the +diamond is looking very often and very intently, it seems to me, down +toward the farther corner of the table, where sits our amber-eyed blonde. +The landlady's daughter does not look pleased, it seems to me, at this, +nor at those other attentions which the gentleman referred to has, as I +have learned, pressed upon the newly-arrived young person. The landlady +made a communication to me, within a few days after the arrival of Miss +Iris, which I will repeat to the best of my remembrance. + +He, (the person I have been speaking of,)--she said,--seemed to be kinder +hankerin' round after that young woman. It had hurt her daughter's +feelin's a good deal, that the gentleman she was a-keepin' company with +should be offerin' tickets and tryin' to send presents to them that he'd +never know'd till jest a little spell ago,--and he as good as merried, so +fur as solemn promises went, to as respectable a young lady, if she did +say so, as any there was round, whosomever they might be. + +Tickets! presents!--said I.--What tickets, what presents has he had the +impertinence to be offering to that young lady? + +Tickets to the Museum,--said the landlady. There is them that's glad +enough to go to the Museum, when tickets is given 'em; but some of 'em +ha'n't had a ticket sence Cenderilla was played,--and now he must be +offerin' 'em to this ridiculous young paintress, or whatever she is, +that's come to make more mischief than her board's worth. But it a'n't +her fault,--said the landlady, relenting;--and that aunt of hers, or +whatever she is, served him right enough. + +Why, what did she do? + +Do? Why, she took it up in the tongs and dropped it out o' winder. + +Dropped? dropped what?--I said. + +Why, the soap,--said the landlady. + +It appeared that the Koh-i-noor, to ingratiate himself, had sent an +elegant package of perfumed soap, directed to Miss Iris, as a delicate +expression of a lively sentiment of admiration, and that, after having +met with the unfortunate treatment referred to, it was picked up by +Master Benjamin Franklin, who appropriated it, rejoicing, and indulged in +most unheard-of and inordinate ablutions in consequence, so that his +hands were a frequent subject of maternal congratulation, and he smelt +like a civet-cat for weeks after his great acquisition. + +After watching daily for a time, I think I can see clearly into the +relation which is growing up between the little gentleman and the young +lady. She shows a tenderness to him that I can't help being interested +in. If he was her crippled child, instead of being more than old enough +to be her father, she could not treat him more kindly. The landlady's +daughter said, the other day, she believed that girl was settin' her cap +for the Little Gentleman. + +Some of them young folks is very artful,--said her mother,--and there is +them that would merry Lazarus, if he'd only picked up crumbs enough. I +don't think, though, this is one of that sort; she's kinder +childlike,--said the landlady,--and maybe never had any dolls to play +with; for they say her folks was poor before Ma'am undertook to see to +her teachin' and board her and clothe her. + +I could not help overhearing this conversation. "Board her and clothe +her!"--speaking of such a young creature! Oh, dear!--Yes,--she must be +fed,--just like Bridget, maid-of-all-work at this establishment. +Somebody must pay for it. Somebody has a right to watch her and see how +much it takes to "keep" her, and growl at her, if she has too good an +appetite. Somebody has a right to keep an eye on her and take care that +she does not dress too prettily. No mother to see her own youth over +again in these fresh features and rising reliefs of half-sculptured +womanhood, and, seeing its loveliness, forget her lessons of +neutral-tinted propriety, and open the cases that hold her own ornaments +to find for her a necklace or a bracelet or a pair of ear-rings,--those +golden lamps that light up the deep, shadowy dimples on the cheeks of +young beauties,--swinging in a semi-barbaric splendor that carries the +wild fancy to Abyssinian queens and musky Odalisques! I don't believe +any woman has utterly given up the great firm of Mundus & Co., so long as +she wears ear-rings. + +I think Iris loves to hear the Little Gentleman talk. She smiles +sometimes at his vehement statements, but never laughs at him. When he +speaks to her, she keeps her eye always steadily upon him. This may be +only natural good-breeding, so to speak, but it is worth noticing. I +have often observed that vulgar persons, and public audiences of inferior +collective intelligence, have this in common: the least thing draws off +their minds, when you are speaking to them. I love this young creature's +rapt attention to her diminutive neighbor while he is speaking. + +He is evidently pleased with it. For a day or two after she came, he was +silent and seemed nervous and excited. Now he is fond of getting the +talk into his own hands, and is obviously conscious that he has at least +one interested listener. Once or twice I have seen marks of special +attention to personal adornment, a ruffled shirt-bosom, one day, and a +diamond pin in it,--not so very large as the Koh-i-noor's, but more +lustrous. I mentioned the death's-head ring he wears on his right hand. +I was attracted by a very handsome red stone, a ruby or carbuncle or +something of the sort, to notice his left hand, the other day. It is a +handsome hand, and confirms my suspicion that the cast mentioned was +taken from his arm. After all, this is just what I should expect. It is +not very uncommon to see the upper limbs, or one of them, running away +with the whole strength, and, therefore, with the whole beauty, which we +should never have noticed, if it had been divided equally between all +four extremities. If it is so, of course he is proud of his one strong +and beautiful arm; that is human nature. I am afraid he can hardly help +betraying his favoritism, as people who have any one showy point are apt +to do,--especially dentists with handsome teeth, who always smile back to +their last molars. + +Sitting, as he does, next to the young girl, and next but one to the calm +lady who has her in charge, he cannot help seeing their relations to each +other. + +That is an admirable woman, Sir,--he said to me one day, as we sat alone +at the table after breakfast,--an admirable woman, Sir,--and I hate her. + +Of course, I begged an explanation. + +An admirable woman, Sir, because she does good things, and even kind +things,--takes care of this--this--young lady--we have here, talks like a +sensible person, and always looks as if she was doing her duty with all +her might. I hate her because her voice sounds as if it never trembled +and her eyes look as if she never knew what it was to cry. Besides, she +looks at me, Sir, stares at me, as if she wanted to get an image of me +for some gallery in her brain,--and we don't love to be looked at in this +way, we that have--I hate her,--I hate her,--her eyes kill me,--it is +like being stabbed with icicles to be looked at so,--the sooner she goes +home, the better. I don't want a woman to weigh me in a balance; there +are men enough for that sort of work. The judicial character is n't +captivating in females, Sir. A woman fascinates a man quite as often by +what she overlooks as by what she sees. Love prefers twilight to +daylight; and a man doesn't think much of, nor care much for, a woman +outside of his household, unless he can couple the idea of love, past, +present, or future, with her. I don't believe the Devil would give half +as much for the services of a sinner as he would for those of one of +these folks that are always doing virtuous acts in a way to make them +unpleasing.--That young girl wants a tender nature to cherish her and +give her a chance to put out her leaves,--sunshine, and not east winds. + +He was silent,--and sat looking at his handsome left hand with the red +stone ring upon it.--Is he going to fall in love with Iris? + +Here are some lines I read to the boarders the other day:-- + + THE CROOKED FOOTPATH + + Ah, here it is! the sliding rail + That marks the old remembered spot, + --The gap that struck our schoolboy trail, + --The crooked path across the lot. + + It left the road by school and church, + A pencilled shadow, nothing more, + That parted from the silver birch + And ended at the farmhouse door. + + No line or compass traced its plan; + With frequent bends to left or right, + In aimless, wayward curves it ran, + But always kept the door in sight. + + The gabled porch, with woodbine green, + --The broken millstone at the sill, + --Though many a rood might stretch between, + The truant child could see them still. + + No rocks, across the pathway lie, + --No fallen trunk is o'er it thrown, + --And yet it winds, we know not why, + And turns as if for tree or stone. + + Perhaps some lover trod the way + With shaking knees and leaping heart, + --And so it often runs astray + With sinuous sweep or sudden start. + + Or one, perchance, with clouded brain + From some unholy banquet reeled, + --And since, our devious steps maintain + His track across the trodden field. + + Nay, deem not thus,--no earthborn will + Could ever trace a faultless line; + Our truest steps are human still, + --To walk unswerving were divine! + + Truants from love, we dream of wrath; + --Oh, rather let us trust the more! + Through all the wanderings of the path, + We still can see our Father's door! + + + + +V + +The Professor finds a Fly in his Teacup. + +I have a long theological talk to relate, which must be dull reading to +some of my young and vivacious friends. I don't know, however, that any +of them have entered into a contract to read all that I write, or that I +have promised always to write to please them. What if I should sometimes +write to please myself? + +Now you must know that there are a great many things which interest me, +to some of which this or that particular class of readers may be totally +indifferent. I love Nature, and human nature, its thoughts, affections, +dreams, aspirations, delusions,--Art in all its forms,--virtu in all its +eccentricities,--old stories from black-letter volumes and yellow +manuscripts, and new projects out of hot brains not yet imbedded in the +snows of age. I love the generous impulses of the reformer; but not less +does my imagination feed itself upon the old litanies, so often warmed by +the human breath upon which they were wafted to Heaven that they glow +through our frames like our own heart's blood. I hope I love good men +and women; I know that they never speak a word to me, even if it be of +question or blame, that I do not take pleasantly, if it is expressed with +a reasonable amount of human kindness. + +I have before me at this time a beautiful and affecting letter, which I +have hesitated to answer, though the postmark upon it gave its direction, +and the name is one which is known to all, in some of its +representatives. It contains no reproach, only a delicately-hinted fear. +Speak gently, as this dear lady has spoken, and there is no heart so +insensible that it does not answer to the appeal, no intellect so virile +that it does not own a certain deference to the claims of age, of +childhood, of sensitive and timid natures, when they plead with it not to +look at those sacred things by the broad daylight which they see in +mystic shadow. How grateful would it be to make perpetual peace with +these pleading saints and their confessors, by the simple act that +silences all complainings! Sleep, sleep, sleep! says the +Arch-Enchantress of them all,--and pours her dark and potent anodyne, +distilled over the fires that consumed her foes,--its large, round drops +changing, as we look, into the beads of her convert's rosary! Silence! +the pride of reason! cries another, whose whole life is spent in +reasoning down reason. + +I hope I love good people, not for their sake, but for my own. And most +assuredly, if any deed of wrong or word of bitterness led me into an act +of disrespect towards that enlightened and excellent class of men who +make it their calling to teach goodness and their duty to practise it, I +should feel that I had done myself an injury rather than them. Go and +talk with any professional man holding any of the medieval creeds, +choosing one who wears upon his features the mark of inward and outward +health, who looks cheerful, intelligent, and kindly, and see how all your +prejudices melt away in his presence! It is impossible to come into +intimate relations with a large, sweet nature, such as you may often find +in this class, without longing to be at one with it in all its modes of +being and believing. But does it not occur to you that one may love +truth as he sees it, and his race as he views it, better than even the +sympathy and approbation of many good men whom he honors,--better than +sleeping to the sound of the Miserere or listening to the repetition of +an effete Confession of Faith? + +The three learned professions have but recently emerged from a state of +quasi-barbarism. None of them like too well to be told of it, but it +must be sounded in their ears whenever they put on airs. When a man has +taken an overdose of laudanum, the doctors tell us to place him between +two persons who shall make him walk up and down incessantly; and if he +still cannot be kept from going to sleep, they say that a lash or two +over his back is of great assistance. + +So we must keep the doctors awake by telling them that they have not yet +shaken off astrology and the doctrine of signatures, as is shown by the +form of their prescriptions, and their use of nitrate of silver, which +turns epileptics into Ethiopians. If that is not enough, they must be +given over to the scourgers, who like their task and get good fees for +it. A few score years ago, sick people were made to swallow burnt toads +and powdered earthworms and the expressed juice of wood-lice. The +physician of Charles I. and II. prescribed abominations not to be named. +Barbarism, as bad as that of Congo or Ashantee. Traces of this barbarism +linger even in the greatly improved medical science of our century. So +while the solemn farce of over-drugging is going on, the world over, the +harlequin pseudo-science jumps on to the stage, whip in hand, with +half-a-dozen somersets, and begins laying about him. + +In 1817, perhaps you remember, the law of wager by battle was unrepealed, +and the rascally murderous, and worse than murderous, clown, Abraham +Thornton, put on his gauntlet in open court and defied the appellant to +lift the other which he threw down. It was not until the reign of George +II. that the statutes against witchcraft were repealed. As for the +English Court of Chancery, we know that its antiquated abuses form one of +the staples of common proverbs and popular literature. So the laws and +the lawyers have to be watched perpetually by public opinion as much as +the doctors do. + +I don't think the other profession is an exception. When the Reverend +Mr. Cauvin and his associates burned my distinguished scientific +brother,--he was burned with green fagots, which made it rather slow and +painful,--it appears to me they were in a state of religious barbarism. +The dogmas of such people about the Father of Mankind and his creatures +are of no more account in my opinion than those of a council of Aztecs. +If a man picks your pocket, do you not consider him thereby disqualified +to pronounce any authoritative opinion on matters of ethics? If a man +hangs my ancient female relatives for sorcery, as they did in this +neighborhood a little while ago, or burns my instructor for not believing +as he does, I care no more for his religious edicts than I should for +those of any other barbarian. + +Of course, a barbarian may hold many true opinions; but when the ideas of +the healing art, of the administration of justice, of Christian love, +could not exclude systematic poisoning, judicial duelling, and murder for +opinion's sake, I do not see how we can trust the verdict of that time +relating to any subject which involves the primal instincts violated in +these abominations and absurdities.--What if we are even now in a state +of semi-barbarism? + +[This physician believes we "are even now in a state of semi-barbarism": +invasive procedures for the prolongation of death rather than +prolongation of life; "faith",as slimly based as medieval faith in minute +differences between control and treated groups; statistical manipulation +to prove a prejudice. Medicine has a good deal to answer for! D.W.] + +Perhaps some think we ought not to talk at table about such things.--I +am not so sure of that. Religion and government appear to me the two +subjects which of all others should belong to the common talk of people +who enjoy the blessings of freedom. Think, one moment. The earth is a +great factory-wheel, which, at every revolution on its axis, receives +fifty thousand raw souls and turns off nearly the same number worked up +more or less completely. There must be somewhere a population of two +hundred thousand million, perhaps ten or a hundred times as many, +earth-born intelligences. Life, as we call it, is nothing but the edge +of the boundless ocean of existence where it comes on soundings. In this +view, I do not see anything so fit to talk about, or half so interesting, +as that which relates to the innumerable majority of our +fellow-creatures, the dead-living, who are hundreds of thousands to one +of the live-living, and with whom we all potentially belong, though we +have got tangled for the present in some parcels of fibrine, albumen, and +phosphates, that keep us on the minority side of the house. In point of +fact, it is one of the many results of Spiritualism to make the permanent +destiny of the race a matter of common reflection and discourse, and a +vehicle for the prevailing disbelief of the Middle-Age doctrines on the +subject. I cannot help thinking, when I remember how many conversations +my friend and myself have sported, that it would be very extraordinary, +if there were no mention of that class of subjects which involves all +that we have and all that we hope, not merely for ourselves, but for the +dear people whom we love best,--noble men, pure and lovely women, +ingenuous children, about the destiny of nine tenths of whom you know the +opinions that would have been taught by those old man-roasting, +woman-strangling dogmatists.--However, I fought this matter with one of +our boarders the other day, and I am going to report the conversation. + +The divinity-student came down, one morning, looking rather more serious +than usual. He said little at breakfast-time, but lingered after the +others, so that I, who am apt to be long at the table, found myself alone +with him. + +When the rest were all gone, he turned his chair round towards mine, and +began. + +I am afraid,--he said,--you express yourself a little too freely on a +most important class of subjects. Is there not danger in introducing +discussions or allusions relating to matters of religion into common +discourse? + +Danger to what?--I asked. + +Danger to truth,--he replied, after a slight pause. + +I didn't know Truth was such an invalid,' I said.--How long is it since +she could only take the air in a close carriage, with a gentleman in a +black coat on the box? Let me tell you a story, adapted to young +persons, but which won't hurt older ones. + +--There was a very little boy who had one of those balloons you may have +seen, which are filled with light gas, and are held by a string to keep +them from running off in aeronautic voyages on their own account. This +little boy had a naughty brother, who said to him, one day,--Brother, +pull down your balloon, so that I can look at it and take hold of it. +Then the little boy pulled it down. Now the naughty brother had a sharp +pin in his hand, and he thrust it into the balloon, and all the gas oozed +out, so that there was nothing left but a shrivelled skin. + +One evening, the little boy's father called him to the window to see the +moon, which pleased him very much; but presently he said,--Father, do +not pull the string and bring down the moon, for my naughty brother will +prick it, and then it will all shrivel up and we shall not see it any +more. + +Then his father laughed, and told him how the moon had been shining a +good while, and would shine a good while longer, and that all we could do +was to keep our windows clean, never letting the dust get too thick on +them, and especially to keep our eyes open, but that we could not pull +the moon down with a string, nor prick it with a pin.--Mind you this, +too, the moon is no man's private property, but is seen from a good many +parlor-windows. + +--Truth is tough. It will not break, like a bubble, at a touch; nay, you +may kick it about all day, like a football, and it will be round and full +at evening. Does not Mr. Bryant say, that Truth gets well if she is run +over by a locomotive, while Error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her +finger? [Would that this was so:--error, superstition, mysticism, +authoritarianism, pseudo-science all have a tenacity that survives +inexplicably. D.W.] I never heard that a mathematician was alarmed for +the safety of a demonstrated proposition. I think, generally, that fear +of open discussion implies feebleness of inward conviction, and great +sensitiveness to the expression of individual opinion is a mark of +weakness. + +--I am not so much afraid for truth,--said the divinity-student,--as for +the conceptions of truth in the minds of persons not accustomed to judge +wisely the opinions uttered before them. + +Would you, then, banish all allusions to matters of this nature from the +society of people who come together habitually? + +I would be very careful in introducing them,--said the divinity-student. + +Yes, but friends of yours leave pamphlets in people's entries, to be +picked up by nervous misses and hysteric housemaids, full of doctrines +these people do not approve. Some of your friends stop little children +in the street, and give them books, which their parents, who have had +them baptized into the Christian fold and give them what they consider +proper religious instruction, do not think fit for them. One would say +it was fair enough to talk about matters thus forced upon people's +attention. + +The divinity-student could not deny that this was what might be called +opening the subject to the discussion of intelligent people. + +But,--he said,--the greatest objection is this, that persons who have not +made a professional study of theology are not competent to speak on such +subjects. Suppose a minister were to undertake to express opinions on +medical subjects, for instance, would you not think he was going beyond +his province? + +I laughed,--for I remembered John Wesley's "sulphur and supplication," +and so many other cases where ministers had meddled with +medicine,--sometimes well and sometimes ill, but, as a general rule, with +a tremendous lurch to quackery, owing to their very loose way of +admitting evidence,--that I could not help being amused. + +I beg your pardon,--I said,--I do not wish to be impolite, but I was +thinking of their certificates to patent medicines. Let us look at this +matter. + +If a minister had attended lectures on the theory and practice of +medicine, delivered by those who had studied it most deeply, for thirty +or forty years, at the rate of from fifty to one hundred a year,--if he +had been constantly reading and hearing read the most approved text-books +on the subject,--if he had seen medicine actually practised according to +different methods, daily, for the same length of time,--I should think, +that if a person of average understanding, he was entitled to express an +opinion on the subject of medicine, or else that his instructors were a +set of ignorant and incompetent charlatans. + +If, before a medical practitioner would allow me to enjoy the full +privileges of the healing art, he expected me to affirm my belief in a +considerable number of medical doctrines, drugs, and formulae, I should +think that he thereby implied my right to discuss the same, and my +ability to do so, if I knew how to express myself in English. + +Suppose, for instance, the Medical Society should refuse to give us an +opiate, or to set a broken limb, until we had signed our belief in a +certain number of propositions,--of which we will say this is the first: + +I. All men's teeth are naturally in a state of total decay or caries, +and, therefore, no man can bite until every one of them is extracted and +a new set is inserted according to the principles of dentistry adopted by +this Society. + +I, for one, should want to discuss that before signing my name to it, and +I should say this:--Why, no, that is n't true. There are a good many bad +teeth, we all know, but a great many more good ones. You must n't trust +the dentists; they are all the time looking at the people who have bad +teeth, and such as are suffering from toothache. The idea that you must +pull out every one of every nice young man and young woman's natural +teeth! Poh, poh! Nobody believes that. This tooth must be +straightened, that must be filled with gold, and this other perhaps +extracted, but it must be a very rare case, if they are all so bad as to +require extraction; and if they are, don't blame the poor soul for it! +Don't tell us, as some old dentists used to, that everybody not only +always has every tooth in his head good for nothing, but that he ought to +have his head cut off as a punishment for that misfortune! No, I can't +sign Number One. Give us Number Two. + +II. We hold that no man can be well who does not agree with our views of +the efficacy of calomel, and who does not take the doses of it prescribed +in our tables, as there directed. + +To which I demur, questioning why it should be so, and get for answer the +two following: + +III. Every man who does not take our prepared calomel, as prescribed by +us in our Constitution and By-Laws, is and must be a mass of disease from +head to foot; it being self-evident that he is simultaneously affected +with Apoplexy, Arthritis, Ascites, Asphyxia, and Atrophy; with +Borborygmus, Bronchitis, and Bulimia; with Cachexia, Carcinoma, and +Cretinismus; and so on through the alphabet, to Xerophthahnia and Zona, +with all possible and incompatible diseases which are necessary to make +up a totally morbid state; and he will certainly die, if he does not take +freely of our prepared calomel, to be obtained only of one of our +authorized agents. + +IV. No man shall be allowed to take our prepared calomel who does not +give in his solemn adhesion to each and all of the above-named and the +following propositions (from ten to a hundred) and show his mouth to +certain of our apothecaries, who have not studied dentistry, to examine +whether all his teeth have been extracted and a new set inserted +according to our regulations. + +Of course, the doctors have a right to say we sha'n't have any rhubarb, +if we don't sign their articles, and that, if, after signing them, we +express doubts (in public), about any of them, they will cut us off from +our jalap and squills,--but then to ask a fellow not to discuss the +propositions before he signs them is what I should call boiling it down a +little too strong! + +If we understand them, why can't we discuss them? If we can't understand +them, because we have n't taken a medical degree, what the Father of Lies +do they ask us to sign them for? + +Just so with the graver profession. Every now and then some of its +members seem to lose common sense and common humanity. The laymen have +to keep setting the divines right constantly. Science, for instance,--in +other words, knowledge,--is not the enemy of religion; for, if so, then +religion would mean ignorance: But it is often the antagonist of +school-divinity. + +Everybody knows the story of early astronomy and the school-divines. Come +down a little later, Archbishop Usher, a very learned Protestant prelate, +tells us that the world was created on Sunday, the twenty-third of +October, four thousand and four years before the birth of Christ. +Deluge, December 7th, two thousand three hundred and forty-eight years B. +C. Yes, and the earth stands on an elephant, and the elephant on a +tortoise. One statement is as near the truth as the other. + +Again, there is nothing so brutalizing to some natures as moral surgery. +I have often wondered that Hogarth did not add one more picture to his +four stages of Cruelty. Those wretched fools, reverend divines and +others, who were strangling men and women for imaginary crimes a little +more than a century ago among us, were set right by a layman, and very +angry it made them to have him meddle. + +The good people of Northampton had a very remarkable man for their +clergyman,--a man with a brain as nicely adjusted for certain mechanical +processes as Babbage's calculating machine. The commentary of the laymen +on the preaching and practising of Jonathan Edwards was, that, after +twenty-three years of endurance, they turned him out by a vote of twenty +to one, and passed a resolve that he should never preach for them again. +A man's logical and analytical adjustments are of little consequence, +compared to his primary relations with Nature and truth: and people have +sense enough to find it out in the long ran; they know what "logic" is +worth. + +In that miserable delusion referred to above, the reverend Aztecs and +Fijians argued rightly enough from their premises, no doubt, for many men +can do this. But common sense and common humanity were unfortunately +left out from their premises, and a layman had to supply them. A hundred +more years and many of the barbarisms still lingering among us will, of +course, have disappeared like witch-hanging. But people are sensitive +now, as they were then. You will see by this extract that the Rev. +Cotton Mather did not like intermeddling with his business very well. + +"Let the Levites of the Lord keep close to their Instructions," he says, +"and God will smite thro' the loins of those that rise up against them. +I will report unto you a Thing which many Hundreds among us know to be +true. The Godly Minister of a certain Town in Connecticut, when he had +occasion to be absent on a Lord's Day from his Flock, employ'd an honest +Neighbour of some small Talents for a Mechanick, to read a Sermon out of +some good Book unto 'em. This Honest, whom they ever counted also a +Pious Man, had so much conceit of his Talents, that instead of Reading a +Sermon appointed, he to the Surprize of the People, fell to preaching one +of his own. For his Text he took these Words, 'Despise not +Prophecyings'; and in his Preachment he betook himself to bewail the Envy +of the Clergy in the Land, in that they did not wish all the Lord's +People to be Prophets, and call forth Private Brethren publickly to +prophesie. While he was thus in the midst of his Exercise, God smote him +with horrible Madness; he was taken ravingly distracted; the People were +forc'd with violent Hands to carry him home. I will not mention his +Name: He was reputed a Pious Man."--This is one of Cotton Mather's +"Remarkable Judgments of God, on Several Sorts of Offenders,"--and the +next cases referred to are the Judgments on the "Abominable Sacrilege" of +not paying the Ministers' Salaries. + +This sort of thing does n't do here and now, you see, my young friend! +We talk about our free institutions;--they are nothing but a coarse +outside machinery to secure the freedom of individual thought. The +President of the United States is only the engine driver of our +broad-gauge mail-train; and every honest, independent thinker has a seat +in the first-class cars behind him. + +--There is something in what you say,--replied the divinity-student; +--and yet it seems to me there are places and times where disputed +doctrines of religion should not be introduced. You would not attack a +church dogma--say Total Depravity--in a lyceum-lecture, for instance? + +Certainly not; I should choose another place,--I answered.--But, mind +you, at this table I think it is very different. I shall express my +ideas on any subject I like. The laws of the lecture-room, to which my +friends and myself are always amenable, do not hold here. I shall not +often give arguments, but frequently opinions,--I trust with courtesy and +propriety, but, at any rate, with such natural forms of expression as it +has pleased the Almighty to bestow upon me. + +A man's opinions, look you, are generally of much more value than his +arguments. These last are made by his brain, and perhaps he does not +believe the proposition they tend to prove,--as is often the case with +paid lawyers; but opinions are formed by our whole nature,--brain, +heart, instinct, brute life, everything all our experience has shaped for +us by contact with the whole circle of our being. + +--There is one thing more,--said the divinity-student,--that I wished to +speak of; I mean that idea of yours, expressed some time since, of +depolarizing the text of sacred books in order to judge them fairly. May +I ask why you do not try the experiment yourself? + +Certainly,--I replied,--if it gives you any pleasure to ask foolish +questions. I think the ocean telegraph-wire ought to be laid and will be +laid, but I don't know that you have any right to ask me to go and lay +it. But, for that matter, I have heard a good deal of Scripture +depolarized in and out of the pulpit. I heard the Rev. Mr. F. once +depolarize the story of the Prodigal Son in Park-Street Church. Many +years afterwards, I heard him repeat the same or a similar depolarized +version in Rome, New York. I heard an admirable depolarization of the +story of the young man who "had great possessions" from the Rev. Mr. H. +in another pulpit, and felt that I had never half understood it before. +All paraphrases are more or less perfect depolarizations. But I tell you +this: the faith of our Christian community is not robust enough to bear +the turning of our most sacred language into its depolarized equivalents. +You have only to look back to Dr. Channing's famous Baltimore discourse +and remember the shrieks of blasphemy with which it was greeted, to +satisfy yourself on this point. Time, time only, can gradually wean us +from our Epeolatry, or word-worship, by spiritualizing our ideas of the +thing signified. Man is an idolater or symbol-worshipper by nature, +which, of course, is no fault of his; but sooner or later all his local +and temporary symbols must be ground to powder, like the golden +calf,--word-images as well as metal and wooden ones. Rough work, +iconoclasm,--but the only way to get at truth. It is, indeed, as that +quaint and rare old discourse, "A Summons for Sleepers," hath it, "no +doubt a thankless office, and a verie unthriftie occupation; veritas +odium parit, truth never goeth without a scratcht face; he that will be +busie with voe vobis, let him looke shortly for coram nobas." + +The very aim and end of our institutions is just this: that we may think +what we like and say what we think. + +--Think what we like!--said the divinity-student;--think what we like! +What! against all human and divine authority? + +Against all human versions of its own or any other authority. At our own +peril always, if we do not like the right,--but not at the risk of being +hanged and quartered for political heresy, or broiled on green fagots for +ecclesiastical treason! Nay, we have got so far, that the very word +heresy has fallen into comparative disuse among us. + +And now, my young friend, let-us shake hands and stop our discussion, +which we will not make a quarrel. I trust you know, or will learn, a +great many things in your profession which we common scholars do not +know; but mark this: when the common people of New England stop talking +politics and theology, it will be because they have got an Emperor to +teach them the one, and a Pope to teach them the other! + +That was the end of my long conference with the divinity-student. The +next morning we got talking a little on the same subject, very +good-naturedly, as people return to a matter they have talked out. + +You must look to yourself,--said the divinity-student,--if your +democratic notions get into print. You will be fired into from all +quarters. + +If it were only a bullet, with the marksman's name on it!--I said.--I +can't stop to pick out the peep-shot of the anonymous scribblers. + +Right, Sir! right!--said the Little Gentleman. The scamps! I know the +fellows. They can't give fifty cents to one of the Antipodes, but they +must have it jingled along through everybody's palms all the way, till it +reaches him,--and forty cents of it gets spilt, like the water out of the +fire-buckets passed along a "lane" at a fire;--but when it comes to +anonymous defamation, putting lies into people's mouths, and then +advertising those people through the country as the authors of them,--oh, +then it is that they let not their left hand know what their right hand +doeth! + +I don't like Ehud's style of doing business, Sir. He comes along with a +very sanctimonious look, Sir, with his "secret errand unto thee," and his +"message from God unto thee," and then pulls out his hidden knife with +that unsuspected hand of his,---(the Little Gentleman lifted his clenched +left hand with the blood-red jewel on the ring-finger,)--and runs it, +blade and haft, into a man's stomach! Don't meddle with these fellows, +Sir. They are read mostly by persons whom you would not reach, if you +were to write ever so much. Let 'em alone. A man whose opinions are not +attacked is beneath contempt. + +I hope so,--I said.--I got three pamphlets and innumerable squibs flung +at my head for attacking one of the pseudo-sciences, in former years. +When, by the permission of Providence, I held up to the professional +public the damnable facts connected with the conveyance of poison from +one young mother's chamber to another's,--for doing which humble office I +desire to be thankful that I have lived, though nothing else good should +ever come of my life,--I had to bear the sneers of those whose position I +had assailed, and, as I believe, have at last demolished, so that nothing +but the ghosts of dead women stir among the ruins.--What would you do, if +the folks without names kept at you, trying to get a San Benito on to +your shoulders that would fit you?--Would you stand still in fly-time, or +would you give a kick now and then? + +Let 'em bite!--said the Little Gentleman,--let 'em bite! It makes 'em +hungry to shake 'em off, and they settle down again as thick as ever and +twice as savage. Do you know what meddling with the folks without names, +as you call 'em, is like?--It is like riding at the quintaan. You run +full tilt at the board, but the board is on a pivot, with a bag of sand +on an arm that balances it. The board gives way as soon as you touch it; +and before you have got by, the bag of sand comes round whack on the back +of your neck. "Ananias," for instance, pitches into your lecture, we +will say, in some paper taken by the people in your kitchen. Your +servants get saucy and negligent. If their newspaper calls you names, +they need not be so particular about shutting doors softly or boiling +potatoes. So you lose your temper, and come out in an article which you +think is going to finish "Ananias," proving him a booby who doesn't know +enough to understand even a lyceum-lecture, or else a person that tells +lies. Now you think you 've got him! Not so fast. "Ananias" keeps still +and winks to "Shimei," and "Shimei" comes out in the paper which they +take in your neighbor's kitchen, ten times worse than t'other fellow. If +you meddle with "Shimei," he steps out, and next week appears +"Rab-shakeh," an unsavory wretch; and now, at any rate, you find out what +good sense there was in Hezekiah's "Answer him not."--No, no,--keep your +temper.--So saying, the Little Gentleman doubled his left fist and looked +at it as if he should like to hit something or somebody a most pernicious +punch with it. + +Good!--said I.--Now let me give you some axioms I have arrived at, after +seeing something of a great many kinds of good folks. + +--Of a hundred people of each of the different leading religious sects, +about the same proportion will be safe and pleasant persons to deal and +to live with. + +--There are, at least, three real saints among the women to one among the +men, in every denomination. + +--The spiritual standard of different classes I would reckon thus: + + 1. The comfortably rich. + 2. The decently comfortable. + 3. The very rich, who are apt to be irreligious. + 4. The very poor, who are apt to be immoral. + +--The cut nails of machine-divinity may be driven in, but they won't +clinch. + +--The arguments which the greatest of our schoolmen could not refute were +two: the blood in men's veins, and the milk in women's breasts. + +--Humility is the first of the virtues--for other people. + +--Faith always implies the disbelief of a lesser fact in favor of a +greater. A little mind often sees the unbelief, without seeing the +belief of a large one. + +The Poor Relation had been fidgeting about and working her mouth while +all this was going on. She broke out in speech at this point. + +I hate to hear folks talk so. I don't see that you are any better than a +heathen. + +I wish I were half as good as many heathens have been,--I said.--Dying +for a principle seems to me a higher degree of virtue than scolding for +it; and the history of heathen races is full of instances where men have +laid down their lives for the love of their kind, of their country, of +truth, nay, even for simple manhood's sake, or to show their obedience or +fidelity. What would not such beings have done for the souls of men, for +the Christian commonwealth, for the King of Kings, if they had lived in +days of larger light? Which seems to you nearest heaven, Socrates +drinking his hemlock, Regulus going back to the enemy's camp, or that old +New England divine sitting comfortably in his study and chuckling over +his conceit of certain poor women, who had been burned to death in his +own town, going "roaring out of one fire into another"? + +I don't believe he said any such thing,--replied the Poor Relation. + +It is hard to believe,--said I,--but it is true for all that. In another +hundred years it will be as incredible that men talked as we sometimes +hear them now. + +Pectus est quod facit theologum. The heart makes the theologian. Every +race, every civilization, either has a new revelation of its own or a new +interpretation of an old one. Democratic America, has a different +humanity from feudal Europe, and so must have a new divinity. See, for +one moment, how intelligence reacts on our faiths. The Bible was a +divining-book to our ancestors, and is so still in the hands of some of +the vulgar. The Puritans went to the Old Testament for their laws; the +Mormons go to it for their patriarchal institution. Every generation +dissolves something new and precipitates something once held in solution +from that great storehouse of temporary and permanent truths. + +You may observe this: that the conversation of intelligent men of the +stricter sects is strangely in advance of the formula that belong to +their organizations. So true is this, that I have doubts whether a large +proportion of them would not have been rather pleased than offended, if +they could have overheard our, talk. For, look you, I think there is +hardly a professional teacher who will not in private conversation allow +a large part of what we have said, though it may frighten him in print; +and I know well what an under-current of secret sympathy gives vitality +to those poor words of mine which sometimes get a hearing. + +I don't mind the exclamation of any old stager who drinks Madeira worth +from two to six Bibles a bottle, and burns, according to his own +premises, a dozen souls a year in the cigars with which he muddles his +brains. But as for the good and true and intelligent men whom we see all +around us, laborious, self-denying, hopeful, helpful,--men who know that +the active mind of the century is tending more and more to the two poles, +Rome and Reason, the sovereign church or the free soul, authority or +personality, God in us or God in our masters, and that, though a man may +by accident stand half-way between these two points, he must look one way +or the other,--I don't believe they would take offence at anything I have +reported of our late conversation. + +But supposing any one do take offence at first sight, let him look over +these notes again, and see whether he is quite sure he does not agree +with most of these things that were said amongst us. If he agrees with +most of them, let him be patient with an opinion he does not accept, or +an expression or illustration a little too vivacious. I don't know that I +shall report any more conversations on these topics; but I do insist on +the right to express a civil opinion on this class of subjects without +giving offence, just when and where I please,---unless, as in the +lecture-room, there is an implied contract to keep clear of doubtful +matters. You did n't think a man could sit at a breakfast-table doing +nothing but making puns every morning for a year or two, and never give a +thought to the two thousand of his fellow-creatures who are passing into +another state during every hour that he sits talking and laughing. Of +course, the one matter that a real human being cares for is what is going +to become of them and of him. And the plain truth is, that a good many +people are saying one thing about it and believing another. + +--How do I know that? Why, I have known and loved to talk with good +people, all the way from Rome to Geneva in doctrine, as long as I can +remember. Besides, the real religion of the world comes from women much +more than from men,--from mothers most of all, who carry the key of our +souls in their bosoms. It is in their hearts that the "sentimental" +religion some people are so fond of sneering at has its source. The +sentiment of love, the sentiment of maternity, the sentiment of the +paramount obligation of the parent to the child as having called it into +existence, enhanced just in proportion to the power and knowledge of the +one and the weakness and ignorance of the other,--these are the +"sentiments" that have kept our soulless systems from driving men off to +die in holes like those that riddle the sides of the hill opposite the +Monastery of St. Saba, where the miserable victims of a +falsely-interpreted religion starved and withered in their delusion. + +I have looked on the face of a saintly woman this very day, whose creed +many dread and hate, but whose life is lovely and noble beyond all +praise. When I remember the bitter words I have heard spoken against her +faith, by men who have an Inquisition which excommunicates those who ask +to leave their communion in peace, and an Index Expurgatorius on which +this article may possibly have the honor of figuring,--and, far worse +than these, the reluctant, pharisaical confession, that it might perhaps +be possible that one who so believed should be accepted of the +Creator,--and then recall the sweet peace and love that show through all +her looks, the price of untold sacrifices and labors, and again recollect +how thousands of women, filled with the same spirit, die, without a +murmur, to earthly life, die to their own names even, that they may know +nothing but their holy duties,--while men are torturing and denouncing +their fellows, and while we can hear day and night the clinking of the +hammers that are trying, like the brute forces in the "Prometheus," to +rivet their adamantine wedges right through the breast of human +nature,--I have been ready to believe that we have even now a new +revelation, and the name of its Messiah is WOMAN! + +--I should be sorry,--I remarked, a day or two afterwards, to the +divinity-student,--if anything I said tended in any way to foster any +jealousy between the professions, or to throw disrespect upon that one on +whose counsel and sympathies almost all of us lean in our moments of +trial. But we are false to our new conditions of life, if we do not +resolutely maintain our religious as well as our political freedom, in +the face of any and all supposed monopolies. Certain men will, of +course, say two things, if we do not take their views: first, that we +don't know anything about these matters; and, secondly, that we are not +so good as they are. They have a polarized phraseology for saying these +things, but it comes to precisely that. To which it may be answered, in +the first place, that we have good authority for saying that even babes +and sucklings know something; and, in the second, that, if there is a +mote or so to be removed from our premises, the courts and councils of +the last few years have found beams enough in some other quarters to +build a church that would hold all the good people in Boston and have +sticks enough left to make a bonfire for all the heretics. + +As to that terrible depolarizing process of mine, of which we were +talking the other day, I will give you a specimen of one way of managing +it, if you like. I don't believe it will hurt you or anybody. Besides, +I had a great deal rather finish our talk with pleasant images and gentle +words than with sharp sayings, which will only afford a text, if anybody +repeats them, for endless relays of attacks from Messrs. Ananias, +Shimei, and Rabshakeh. + +[I must leave such gentry, if any of them show themselves, in the hands +of my clerical friends, many of whom are ready to stand up for the rights +of the laity,--and to those blessed souls, the good women, to whom this +version of the story of a mother's hidden hopes and tender anxieties is +dedicated by their peaceful and loving servant.] + + + + A MOTHER'S SECRET. + + How sweet the sacred legend--if unblamed + In my slight verse such holy things are named + --Of Mary's secret hours of hidden joy, + Silent, but pondering on her wondrous boy! + Ave, Maria! Pardon, if I wrong + Those heavenly words that shame my earthly song! + + The choral host had closed the angel's strain + Sung to the midnight watch on Bethlehem's plain; + And now the shepherds, hastening on their way, + Sought the still hamlet where the Infant lay. + They passed the fields that gleaning Ruth toiled O'er, + They saw afar the ruined threshing-floor + Where Moab's daughter, homeless and forlorn, + Found Boaz slumbering by his heaps of corn; + And some remembered how the holy scribe, + Skilled in the lore of every jealous tribe, + Traced the warm blood of Jesse's royal son + To that fair alien, bravely wooed and won. + So fared they on to seek the promised sign + That marked the anointed heir of David's line. + + At last, by forms of earthly semblance led, + They found the crowded inn, the oxen's shed. + No pomp was there, no glory shone around + On the coarse straw that strewed the reeking ground; + One dim retreat a flickering torch betrayed, + In that poor cell the Lord of Life was laid! + + The wondering shepherds told their breathless tale + Of the bright choir that woke the sleeping vale; + Told how the skies with sudden glory flamed; + Told how the shining multitude proclaimed + "Joy, joy to earth! Behold the hallowed morn! + In David's city Christ the Lord is born! + 'Glory to God!' let angels shout on high, + 'Good-will to men!' the listening Earth reply!" + + They spoke with hurried words and accents wild; + Calm in his cradle slept the heavenly child. + No trembling word the mother's joy revealed, + One sigh of rapture, and her lips were sealed; + Unmoved she saw the rustic train depart, + But kept their words to ponder in her heart. + + Twelve years had passed; the boy was fair and tall, + Growing in wisdom, finding grace with all. + The maids of Nazareth, as they trooped to fill + Their balanced urns beside the mountain-rill, + The gathered matrons, as they sat and spun, + Spoke in soft words of Joseph's quiet son. + No voice had reached the Galilean vale + Of star-led kings or awe-struck shepherds' tale; + In the meek, studious child they only saw + The future Rabbi, learned in Israel's law. + + So grew the boy; and now the feast was near, + When at the holy place the tribes appear. + Scarce had the home-bred child of Nazareth seen + Beyond the hills that girt the village-green, + Save when at midnight, o'er the star-lit sands, + Snatched from the steel of Herod's murdering bands, + A babe, close-folded to his mother's breast, + Through Edom's wilds he sought the sheltering West. + + Then Joseph spake: "Thy boy hath largely grown; + Weave him fine raiment, fitting to be shown; + Fair robes beseem the pilgrim, as the priest + Goes he not with us to the holy feast?" + + And Mary culled the flaxen fibres white; + Till eve she spun; she spun till morning light. + The thread was twined; its parting meshes through + From hand to hand her restless shuttle flew, + Till the full web was wound upon the beam, + Love's curious toil,--a vest without a seam! + + They reach the holy place, fulfil the days + To solemn feasting given, and grateful praise. + At last they turn, and far Moriah's height + Melts in the southern sky and fades from sight. + All day the dusky caravan has flowed + In devious trails along the winding road, + (For many a step their homeward path attends, + And all the sons of Abraham are as friends.) + Evening has come,--the hour of rest and joy; + Hush! hush!--that whisper,-"Where is Mary's boy?" + + O weary hour! O aching days that passed + Filled with strange fears, each wilder than the last: + The soldier's lance,--the fierce centurion's sword, + The crushing wheels that whirl some Roman lord, + The midnight crypt that suck's the captive's breath, + The blistering sun on Hinnom's vale of death! + + Thrice on his cheek had rained the morning light, + Thrice on his lips the mildewed kiss of night, + Crouched by some porphyry column's shining plinth, + Or stretched beneath the odorous terebinth. + + At last, in desperate mood, they sought once more + The Temple's porches, searched in vain before; + They found him seated with the ancient men, + The grim old rufflers of the tongue and pen, + Their bald heads glistening as they clustered near; + Their gray beards slanting as they turned to hear, + Lost in half-envious wonder and surprise + That lips so fresh should utter words so wise. + + And Mary said,--as one who, tried too long, + Tells all her grief and half her sense of wrong, + "What is this thoughtless thing which thou hast done? + Lo, we have sought thee sorrowing, O my son!" + Few words he spake, and scarce of filial tone, + Strange words, their sense a mystery yet unknown; + Then turned with them and left the holy hill, + To all their mild commands obedient still. + + The tale was told to Nazareth's sober men, + And Nazareth's matrons told it oft again; + The maids retold it at the fountain's side; + The youthful shepherds doubted or denied; + It passed around among the listening friends, + With all that fancy adds and fiction fends, + Till newer marvels dimmed the young renown + Of Joseph's son, who talked the Rabbis down. + + But Mary, faithful to its lightest word, + Kept in her heart the sayings she had heard, + Till the dread morning rent the Temple's veil, + And shuddering Earth confirmed the wondrous tale. + + Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall; + A mother's secret hope outlives them all. + + + + +VI + +You don't look so dreadful poor in the face as you did a while back. +Bloated some, I expect. + +This was the cheerful and encouraging and elegant remark with which the +Poor Relation greeted the divinity-student one morning. + +Of course every good man considers it a great sacrifice on his part to +continue living in this transitory, unsatisfactory, and particularly +unpleasant world. This is so much a matter of course, that I was +surprised to see the divinity-student change color. He took a look at a +small and uncertain-minded glass which hung slanting forward over the +chapped sideboard. The image it returned to him had the color of a very +young pea somewhat overboiled. The scenery of a long tragic drama +flashed through his mind as the lightning-express-train whishes by a +station: the gradual dismantling process of disease; friends looking on, +sympathetic, but secretly chuckling over their own stomachs of iron and +lungs of caoutchouc; nurses attentive, but calculating their crop, and +thinking how soon it will be ripe, so that they can go to your neighbor, +who is good for a year or so longer; doctors assiduous, but giving +themselves a mental shake, as they go out of your door, which throws off +your particular grief as a duck sheds a raindrop from his oily feathers; +undertakers solemn, but happy; then the great subsoil cultivator, who +plants, but never looks for fruit in his garden; then the stone-cutter, +who puts your name on the slab which has been waiting for you ever since +the birds or beasts made their tracks on the new red sandstone; then the +grass and the dandelions and the buttercups,----Earth saying to the +mortal body, with her sweet symbolism, "You have scarred my bosom, but +you are forgiven"; then a glimpse of the soul as a floating consciousness +without very definite form or place, but dimly conceived of as an upright +column of vapor or mist several times larger than life-size, so far as it +could be said to have any size at all, wandering about and living a thin +and half-awake life for want of good old-fashioned solid matter to come +down upon with foot and fist,--in fact, having neither foot nor fist, nor +conveniences for taking the sitting posture. + +And yet the divinity-student was a good Christian, and those heathen +images which remind one of the childlike fancies of the dying Adrian were +only the efforts of his imagination to give shape to the formless and +position to the placeless. Neither did his thoughts spread themselves +out and link themselves as I have displayed them. They came confusedly +into his mind like a heap of broken mosaics,--sometimes a part of the +picture complete in itself, sometimes connected fragments, and sometimes +only single severed stones. + +They did not diffuse a light of celestial joy over his countenance. On +the contrary, the Poor Relation's remark turned him pale, as I have said; +and when the terrible wrinkled and jaundiced looking-glass turned him +green in addition, and he saw himself in it, it seemed to him as if it +were all settled, and his book of life were to be shut not yet half-read, +and go back to the dust of the under-ground archives. He coughed a mild +short cough, as if to point the direction in which his downward path was +tending. It was an honest little cough enough, so far as appearances +went. But coughs are ungrateful things. You find one out in the cold, +take it up and nurse it and make everything of it, dress it up warm, give +it all sorts of balsams and other food it likes, and carry it round in +your bosom as if it were a miniature lapdog. And by-and-by its little +bark grows sharp and savage, and--confound the thing!--you find it is a +wolf's whelp that you have got there, and he is gnawing in the breast +where he has been nestling so long.--The Poor Relation said that +somebody's surrup was good for folks that were gettin' into a bad +way.--The landlady had heard of desperate cases cured by +cherry-pictorial. + +Whiskey's the fellah,--said the young man John.--Make it into punch, cold +at dinner-time 'n' hot at bed-time. I'll come up 'n' show you how to mix +it. Have n't any of you seen the wonderful fat man exhibitin' down in +Hanover Street? + +Master Benjamin Franklin rushed into the dialogue with a breezy +exclamation, that he had seen a great picter outside of the place where +the fat man was exhibitin'. Tried to get in at half-price, but the man +at the door looked at his teeth and said he was more'n ten year old. + +It is n't two years,--said the young man John, since that fat fellah was +exhibitin' here as the Livin' Skeleton. Whiskey--that's what did +it,--real Burbon's the stuff. Hot water, sugar, 'n' jest a little +shavin' of lemon-skin in it,--skin, mind you, none o' your juice; take it +off thin,--shape of one of them flat curls the factory-girls wear on the +sides of their foreheads. + +But I am a teetotaller,--said the divinity-student in a subdued +tone;--not noticing the enormous length of the bow-string the young +fellow had just drawn. + +He took up his hat and went out. + +I think you have worried that young man more than you meant,--I said.--I +don't believe he will jump off one of the bridges, for he has too much +principle; but I mean to follow him and see where he goes, for he looks +as if his mind were made up to something. + +I followed him at a reasonable distance. He walked doggedly along, +looking neither to the right nor the left, turned into State Street, and +made for a well-known Life-Insurance Office. Luckily, the doctor was +there and overhauled him on the spot. There was nothing the matter with +him, he said, and he could have his life insured as a sound one. He came +out in good spirits, and told me this soon after. + +This led me to make some remarks the next morning on the manners of +well-bred and ill-bred people. + +I began,--The whole essence of true gentle-breeding (one does not like to +say gentility) lies in the wish and the art to be agreeable. +Good-breeding is surface-Christianity. Every look, movement, tone, +expression, subject of discourse, that may give pain to another is +habitually excluded from conversational intercourse. This is the reason +why rich people are apt to be so much more agreeable than others. + +--I thought you were a great champion of equality,--said the discreet and +severe lady who had accompanied our young friend, the Latin Tutor's +daughter. + +I go politically for equality,--I said,--and socially for the quality. + +Who are the "quality,"--said the Model, etc., in a community like ours? + +I confess I find this question a little difficult to answer,--I said. +--Nothing is better known than the distinction of social ranks which +exists in every community, and nothing is harder to define. The great +gentlemen and ladies of a place are its real lords and masters and +mistresses; they are the quality, whether in a monarchy or a republic; +mayors and governors and generals and senators and ex-presidents are +nothing to them. How well we know this, and how seldom it finds a +distinct expression! Now I tell you truly, I believe in man as man, and +I disbelieve in all distinctions except such as follow the natural lines +of cleavage in a society which has crystallized according to its own true +laws. But the essence of equality is to be able to say the truth; and +there is nothing more curious than these truths relating to the +stratification of society. + +Of all the facts in this world that do not take hold of immortality, +there is not one so intensely real, permanent, and engrossing as this of +social position,--as you see by the circumstances that the core of all +the great social orders the world has seen has been, and is still, for +the most part, a privileged class of gentlemen and ladies arranged in a +regular scale of precedence among themselves, but superior as a body to +all else. + +Nothing but an ideal Christian equality, which we have been getting +farther away from since the days of the Primitive Church, can prevent +this subdivision of society into classes from taking place +everywhere,--in the great centres of our republic as much as in old +European monarchies. Only there position is more absolutely +hereditary,--here it is more completely elective. + +--Where is the election held? and what are the qualifications? and who +are the electors?--said the Model. + +Nobody ever sees when the vote is taken; there never is a formal vote. +The women settle it mostly; and they know wonderfully well what is +presentable, and what can't stand the blaze of the chandeliers and the +critical eye and ear of people trained to know a staring shade in a +ribbon, a false light in a jewel, an ill-bred tone, an angular movement, +everything that betrays a coarse fibre and cheap training. As a general +thing, you do not get elegance short of two or three removes from the +soil, out of which our best blood doubtless comes,--quite as good, no +doubt, as if it came from those old prize-fighters with iron pots on +their heads, to whom some great people are so fond of tracing their +descent through a line of small artisans and petty shopkeepers whose +veins have held "base" fluid enough to fill the Cloaca Maxima! + +Does not money go everywhere?--said the Model. + +Almost. And with good reason. For though there are numerous exceptions, +rich people are, as I said, commonly altogether the most agreeable +companions. The influence of a fine house, graceful furniture, good +libraries, well-ordered tables, trim servants, and, above all, a position +so secure that one becomes unconscious of it, gives a harmony and +refinement to the character and manners which we feel, if we cannot +explain their charm. Yet we can get at the reason of it by thinking a +little. + +All these appliances are to shield the sensibility from disagreeable +contacts, and to soothe it by varied natural and artificial influences. +In this way the mind, the taste, the feelings, grow delicate, just as the +hands grow white and soft when saved from toil and incased in soft +gloves. The whole nature becomes subdued into suavity. I confess I like +the quality ladies better than the common kind even of literary ones. +They have n't read the last book, perhaps, but they attend better to you +when you are talking to them. If they are never learned, they make up for +it in tact and elegance. Besides, I think, on the whole, there is less +self-assertion in diamonds than in dogmas. I don't know where you will +find a sweeter portrait of humility than in Esther, the poor play-girl of +King Ahasuerus; yet Esther put on her royal apparel when she went before +her lord. I have no doubt she was a more gracious and agreeable person +than Deborah, who judged the people and wrote the story of Sisera. The +wisest woman you talk with is ignorant of something that you know, but an +elegant woman never forgets her elegance. + +Dowdyism is clearly an expression of imperfect vitality. The highest +fashion is intensely alive,--not alive necessarily to the truest and best +things, but with its blood tingling, as it were, in all its extremities +and to the farthest point of its surface, so that the feather in its +bonnet is as fresh as the crest of a fighting-cock, and the rosette on +its slipper as clean-cut and pimpant (pronounce it English fashion,--it +is a good word) as a dahlia. As a general rule, that society where +flattery is acted is much more agreeable than that where it is spoken. +Don't you see why? Attention and deference don't require you to make +fine speeches expressing your sense of unworthiness (lies) and returning +all the compliments paid you. This is one reason. + +--A woman of sense ought to be above flattering any man,--said the Model. + +[My reflection. Oh! oh! no wonder you did n't get married. Served you +right.] My remark. Surely, Madam,--if you mean by flattery telling +people boldly to their faces that they are this or that, which they are +not. But a woman who does not carry about with her wherever she goes a +halo of good feeling and desire to make everybody contented,--an +atmosphere of grace, mercy, and peace, of at least six feet radius, which +wraps every human being upon whom she voluntarily bestows her presence, +and so flatters him with the comfortable thought that she is rather glad +he is alive than otherwise, isn't worth the trouble of talking to, as a +woman; she may do well enough to hold discussions with. + +--I don't think the Model exactly liked this. She said,--a little +spitefully, I thought,--that a sensible man might stand a little praise, +but would of course soon get sick of it, if he were in the habit of +getting much. + +Oh, yes,--I replied,--just as men get sick of tobacco. It is notorious +how apt they are to get tired of that vegetable. + +--That 's so!--said the young fellow John,--I've got tired of my cigars +and burnt 'em all up. + +I am heartily glad to hear it,--said the Model,--I wish they were all +disposed of in the same way. + +So do I,--said the young fellow John. + +Can't you get your friends to unite with you in committing those odious +instruments of debauchery to the flames in which you have consumed your +own? + +I wish I could,--said the young fellow John. + +It would be a noble sacrifice,--said the Model, and every American woman +would be grateful to you. Let us burn them all in a heap out in the +yard. + +That a'n't my way,--said the young fellow John;--I burn 'em one 't' +time,--little end in my mouth and big end outside. + +--I watched for the effect of this sudden change of programme, when it +should reach the calm stillness of the Model's interior apprehension, as +a boy watches for the splash of a stone which he has dropped into a well. +But before it had fairly reached the water, poor Iris, who had followed +the conversation with a certain interest until it turned this sharp +corner, (for she seems rather to fancy the young fellow John,) laughed +out such a clear, loud laugh, that it started us all off, as the +locust-cry of some full-throated soprano drags a multitudinous chorus +after it. It was plain that some dam or other had broken in the soul of +this young girl, and she was squaring up old scores of laughter, out of +which she had been cheated, with a grand flood of merriment that swept +all before it. So we had a great laugh all round, in which the +Model--who, if she had as many virtues as there are spokes to a wheel, +all compacted with a personality as round and complete as its tire, yet +wanted that one little addition of grace, which seems so small, and is as +important as the linchpin in trundling over the rough ways of life--had +not the tact to join. She seemed to be "stuffy" about it, as the young +fellow John said. In fact, I was afraid the joke would have cost us both +our new lady-boarders. It had no effect, however, except, perhaps, to +hasten the departure of the elder of the two, who could, on the whole, be +spared. + +--I had meant to make this note of our conversation a text for a few +axioms on the matter of breeding. But it so happened, that, exactly at +this point of my record, a very distinguished philosopher, whom several +of our boarders and myself go to hear, and whom no doubt many of my +readers follow habitually, treated this matter of manners. Up to this +point, if I have been so fortunate as to coincide with him in opinion, +and so unfortunate as to try to express what he has more felicitously +said, nobody is to blame; for what has been given thus far was all +written before the lecture was delivered. But what shall I do now? He +told us it was childish to lay down rules for deportment,--but he could +not help laying down a few. + +Thus,--Nothing so vulgar as to be in a hurry. True, but hard of +application. People with short legs step quickly, because legs are +pendulums, and swing more times in a minute the shorter they are. +Generally a natural rhythm runs through the whole organization: quick +pulse, fast breathing, hasty speech, rapid trains of thought, excitable +temper. Stillness of person and steadiness of features are signal marks +of good-breeding. Vulgar persons can't sit still, or, at least, they +must work their limbs or features. + +Talking of one's own ails and grievances.--Bad enough, but not so bad as +insulting the person you talk with by remarking on his ill-looks, or +appealing to notice any of his personal peculiarities. + +Apologizing.--A very desperate habit,--one that is rarely cured. Apology +is only egotism wrong side out. Nine times out of ten, the first thing a +man's companion knows of his shortcoming is from his apology. It is +mighty presumptuous on your part to suppose your small failures of so +much consequence that you must make a talk about them. + +Good dressing, quiet ways, low tones of voice, lips that can wait, and +eyes that do not wander,--shyness of personalities, except in certain +intimate communions,--to be light in hand in conversation, to have ideas, +but to be able to make talk, if necessary, without them,--to belong to +the company you are in, and not to yourself,--to have nothing in your +dress or furniture so fine that you cannot afford to spoil it and get +another like it, yet to preserve the harmonies, throughout your person +and--dwelling: I should say that this was a fair capital of manners to +begin with. + +Under bad manners, as under graver faults, lies very commonly an +overestimate of our special individuality, as distinguished from our +generic humanity. It is just here that the very highest society asserts +its superior breeding. Among truly elegant people of the highest ton, +you will find more real equality in social intercourse than in a country +village. As nuns drop their birth-names and become Sister Margaret and +Sister Mary, so high-bred people drop their personal distinctions and +become brothers and sisters of conversational charity. Nor are +fashionable people without their heroism. I believe there are men who +have shown as much self-devotion in carrying a lone wall-flower down to +the supper-table as ever saint or martyr in the act that has canonized +his name. There are Florence Nightingales of the ballroom, whom nothing +can hold back from their errands of mercy. They find out the red-handed, +gloveless undergraduate of bucolic antecedents, as he squirms in his +corner, and distill their soft words upon him like dew upon the green +herb. They reach even the poor relation, whose dreary apparition saddens +the perfumed atmosphere of the sumptuous drawing-room. I have known one +of these angels ask, of her own accord, that a desolate middle-aged man, +whom nobody seemed to know, should be presented to her by the hostess. +He wore no shirt-collar,--he had on black gloves,--and was flourishing a +red bandanna handkerchief! Match me this, ye proud children of poverty, +who boast of your paltry sacrifices for each other! Virtue in humble +life! What is that to the glorious self-renunciation of a martyr in +pearls and diamonds? As I saw this noble woman bending gracefully before +the social mendicant,--the white billows of her beauty heaving under the +foam of the traitorous laces that half revealed them,--I should have wept +with sympathetic emotion, but that tears, except as a private +demonstration, are an ill-disguised expression of self-consciousness and +vanity, which is inadmissible in good society. + +I have sometimes thought, with a pang, of the position in which political +chance or contrivance might hereafter place some one of our +fellow-citizens. It has happened hitherto, so far as my limited +knowledge goes, that the President of the United States has always been +what might be called in general terms a gentleman. But what if at some +future time the choice of the people should fall upon one on whom that +lofty title could not, by any stretch of charity, be bestowed? This may +happen,--how soon the future only knows. Think of this miserable man of +coming political possibilities,--an unpresentable boor sucked into office +by one of those eddies in the flow of popular sentiment which carry +straws and chips into the public harbor, while the prostrate trunks of +the monarchs of the forest hurry down on the senseless stream to the gulf +of political oblivion! Think of him, I say, and of the concentrated gaze +of good society through its thousand eyes, all confluent, as it were, in +one great burning-glass of ice that shrivels its wretched object in fiery +torture, itself cold as the glacier of an unsunned cavern! No,--there +will be angels of good-breeding then as now, to shield the victim of free +institutions from himself and from his torturers. I can fancy a lovely +woman playfully withdrawing the knife which he would abuse by making it +an instrument for the conveyance of food,--or, failing in this kind +artifice, sacrificing herself by imitating his use of that implement; how +much harder than to plunge it into her bosom, like Lucretia! I can see +her studying in his provincial dialect until she becomes the Champollion +of New England or Western or Southern barbarisms. She has learned that +haow means what; that think-in' is the same thing as thinking, or she has +found out the meaning of that extraordinary mono syllable, which no +single-tongued phonographer can make legible, prevailing on the banks of +the Hudson and at its embouchure, and elsewhere,--what they say when they +think they say first, (fe-eest,--fe as in the French le),--or that cheer +means chair,--or that urritation means irritation,--and so of other +enormities. Nothing surprises her. The highest breeding, you know, +comes round to the Indian standard,--to take everything coolly,--nil +admirari,--if you happen to be learned and like the Roman phrase for the +same thing. + +If you like the company of people that stare at you from head to foot to +see if there is a hole in your coat, or if you have not grown a little +older, or if your eyes are not yellow with jaundice, or if your +complexion is not a little faded, and so on, and then convey the fact to +you, in the style in which the Poor Relation addressed the +divinity-student,--go with them as much as you like. I hate the sight of +the wretches. Don't for mercy's sake think I hate them; the distinction +is one my friend or I drew long ago. No matter where you find such +people; they are clowns. + +The rich woman who looks and talks in this way is not half so much a lady +as her Irish servant, whose pretty "saving your presence," when she has +to say something which offends her natural sense of good manners, has a +hint in it of the breeding of courts, and the blood of old Milesian +kings, which very likely runs in her veins,--thinned by two hundred years +of potato, which, being an underground fruit, tends to drag down the +generations that are made of it to the earth from which it came, and, +filling their veins with starch, turn them into a kind of human +vegetable. + +I say, if you like such people, go with them. But I am going to make a +practical application of the example at the beginning of this particular +record, which some young people who are going to choose professional +advisers by-and-by may remember and thank me for. If you are making +choice of a physician, be sure you get one, if possible, with a cheerful +and serene countenance. A physician is not--at least, ought not to +be--an executioner; and a sentence of death on his face is as bad as a +warrant for execution signed by the Governor. As a general rule, no man +has a right to tell another by word or look that he is going to die. It +may be necessary in some extreme cases; but as a rule, it is the last +extreme of impertinence which one human being can offer to another. "You +have killed me," said a patient once to a physician who had rashly told +him he was incurable. He ought to have lived six months, but he was dead +in six' weeks. If we will only let Nature and the God of Nature alone, +persons will commonly learn their condition as early as they ought to +know it, and not be cheated out of their natural birthright of hope of +recovery, which is intended to accompany sick people as long as life is +comfortable, and is graciously replaced by the hope of heaven, or at +least of rest, when life has become a burden which the bearer is ready to +let fall. + +Underbred people tease their sick and dying friends to death. The chance +of a gentleman or lady with a given mortal ailment to live a certain time +is as good again as that of the common sort of coarse people. As you go +down the social scale, you reach a point at length where the common talk +in sick rooms is of churchyards and sepulchres, and a kind of perpetual +vivisection is forever carried on, upon the person of the miserable +sufferer. + +And so, in choosing your clergyman, other things being equal, prefer the +one of a wholesome and cheerful habit of mind and body. If you can get +along with people who carry a certificate in their faces that their +goodness is so great as to make them very miserable, your children +cannot. And whatever offends one of these little ones cannot be right in +the eyes of Him who loved them so well. + +After all, as you are a gentleman or a lady, you will probably select +gentlemen for your bodily and spiritual advisers, and then all will be +right. + +This repetition of the above words,--gentleman and lady,--which could not +be conveniently avoided, reminds me what strange uses are made of them by +those who ought to know what they mean. Thus, at a marriage ceremony, +once, of two very excellent persons who had been at service, instead of, +Do you take this man, etc.? and, Do you take this woman? how do you think +the officiating clergyman put the questions? It was, Do you, Miss So and +So, take this GENTLEMAN? and, Do you, Mr. This or That, take this LADY?! +What would any English duchess, ay, or the Queen of England herself, have +thought, if the Archbishop of Canterbury had called her and her +bridegroom anything but plain woman and man at such a time? + +I don't doubt the Poor Relation thought it was all very fine, if she +happened to be in the church; but if the worthy man who uttered these +monstrous words--monstrous in such a connection--had known the ludicrous +surprise, the convulsion of inward disgust and contempt, that seized upon +many of the persons who were present,--had guessed what a sudden flash of +light it threw on the Dutch gilding, the pinchbeck, the shabby, perking +pretension belonging to certain social layers,--so inherent in their +whole mode of being, that the holiest offices of religion cannot exclude +its impertinences,--the good man would have given his marriage-fee twice +over to recall that superb and full-blown vulgarism. Any persons whom it +could please could have no better notion of what the words referred to +signify than of the meaning of apsides and asymptotes. + +MAN! Sir! WOMAN! Sir! Gentility is a fine thing, not to be +undervalued, as I have been trying to explain; but humanity comes before +that. + + "When Adam delved and Eve span, + Who was then the gentleman?" + +The beauty of that plainness of speech and manners which comes from the +finest training is not to be understood by those whose habitat is below a +certain level. Just as the exquisite sea-anemones and all the graceful +ocean-flowers die out at some fathoms below the surface, the elegances +and suavities of life die out one by one as we sink through the social +scale. Fortunately, the virtues are more tenacious of life, and last +pretty well until we get down to the mud of absolute pauperism, where +they do not flourish greatly. + +--I had almost forgotten about our boarders. As the Model of all the +Virtues is about to leave us, I find myself wondering what is the reason +we are not all very sorry. Surely we all like good persons. She is a +good person. Therefore we like her.--Only we don't. + +This brief syllogism, and its briefer negative, involving the principle +which some English conveyancer borrowed from a French wit and embodied in +the lines by which Dr. Fell is made unamiably immortal, this syllogism, I +say, is one that most persons have had occasion to construct and +demolish, respecting somebody or other, as I have done for the Model. +"Pious and painefull." Why has that excellent old phrase gone out of +use? Simply because these good painefull or painstaking persons proved +to be such nuisances in the long run, that the word "painefull" came, +before people thought of it, to mean pain-giving instead of painstaking. + +--So, the old fellah's off to-morrah,--said the young man John. + +Old fellow?--said I,--whom do you mean? + +Why, the one that came with our little beauty, the old fellah in +petticoats. + +--Now that means something,--said I to myself.--These rough young rascals +very often hit the nail on the head, if they do strike with their eyes +shut. A real woman does a great many things without knowing why she does +them; but these pattern machines mix up their intellects with everything +they do, just like men. They can't help it, no doubt; but we can't help +getting sick of them, either. Intellect is to a woman's nature what her +watch-spring skirt is to her dress; it ought to underlie her silks and +embroideries, but not to show itself too staringly on the outside.---You +don't know, perhaps, but I will tell you; the brain is the palest of all +the internal organs, and the heart the reddest. Whatever comes from the +brain carries the hue of the place it came from, and whatever comes from +the heart carries the heat and color of its birthplace. + +The young man John did not hear my soliloquy, of course, but sent up one +more bubble from our sinking conversation, in the form of a statement, +that she was at liberty to go to a personage who receives no visits, as +is commonly supposed, from virtuous people. + +Why, I ask again, (of my reader,) should a person who never did anybody +any wrong, but, on the contrary, is an estimable and intelligent, nay, a +particularly enlightened and exemplary member of society, fail to inspire +interest, love, and devotion? Because of the reversed current in the +flow of thought and emotion. The red heart sends all its instincts up to +the white brain to be analyzed, chilled, blanched, and so become pure +reason, which is just exactly what we do not want of woman as woman. The +current should run the other-way. The nice, calm, cold thought, which in +women shapes itself so rapidly that they hardly know it as thought, +should always travel to the lips via the heart. It does so in those +women whom all love and admire. It travels the wrong way in the Model. +That is the reason why the Little Gentleman said "I hate her, I hate +her." That is the reason why the young man John called her the "old +fellah," and banished her to the company of the great Unpresentable. That +is the reason why I, the Professor, am picking her to pieces with scalpel +and forceps. That is the reason why the young girl whom she has +befriended repays her kindness with gratitude and respect, rather than +with the devotion and passionate fondness which lie sleeping beneath the +calmness of her amber eyes. I can see her, as she sits between this +estimable and most correct of personages and the misshapen, crotchety, +often violent and explosive little man on the other side of her, leaning +and swaying towards him as she speaks, and looking into his sad eyes as +if she found some fountain in them at which her soul could quiet its +thirst. + +Women like the Model are a natural product of a chilly climate and high +culture. It is not + + "The frolic wind that breathes the spring, + Zephyr with Aurora playing," + +when the two meet + + "---on beds of violets blue, + And fresh-blown roses washed in dew," + +that claim such women as their offspring. It is rather the east wind, as +it blows out of the fogs of Newfoundland, and clasps a clear-eyed wintry +noon on the chill bridal couch of a New England ice-quarry.--Don't throw +up your cap now, and hurrah as if this were giving up everything, and +turning against the best growth of our latitudes,--the daughters of the +soil. The brain-women never interest us like the heart women; white +roses please less than red. But our Northern seasons have a narrow green +streak of spring, as well as a broad white zone of winter,--they have a +glowing band of summer and a golden stripe of autumn in their +many-colored wardrobe; and women are born to us that wear all these hues +of earth and heaven in their souls. Our ice-eyed brain-women are really +admirable, if we only ask of them just what they can give, and no more. +Only compare them, talking or writing, with one of those babbling, +chattering dolls, of warmer latitudes, who do not know enough even to +keep out of print, and who are interesting to us only as specimens of +arrest of development for our psychological cabinets. + +Good-bye, Model of all the Virtues! We can spare you now. A little +clear perfection, undiluted with human weakness, goes a great way. Go! be +useful, be honorable and honored, be just, be charitable, talk pure +reason, and help to disenchant the world by the light of an achromatic +understanding. Goodbye! Where is my Beranger? I must read a verse or +two of "Fretillon." + +Fair play for all. But don't claim incompatible qualities for anybody. +Justice is a very rare virtue in our community. Everything that public +sentiment cares about is put into a Papin's digester, and boiled under +high pressure till all is turned into one homogeneous pulp, and the very +bones give up their jelly. What are all the strongest epithets of our +dictionary to us now? The critics and politicians, and especially the +philanthropists, have chewed them, till they are mere wads of +syllable-fibre, without a suggestion of their old pungency and power. + +Justice! A good man respects the rights even of brute matter and +arbitrary symbols. If he writes the same word twice in succession, by +accident, he always erases the one that stands second; has not the +first-comer the prior right? This act of abstract justice, which I trust +many of my readers, like myself, have often performed, is a curious +anti-illustration, by the way, of the absolute wickedness of human +dispositions. Why doesn't a man always strike out the first of the two +words, to gratify his diabolical love of injustice? + +So, I say, we owe a genuine, substantial tribute of respect to these +filtered intellects which have left their womanhood on the strainer. They +are so clear that it is a pleasure at times to look at the world of +thought through them. But the rose and purple tints of richer natures +they cannot give us, and it is not just to them to ask it. + +Fashionable society gets at these rich natures very often in a way one +would hardly at first think of. It loves vitality above all things, +sometimes disguised by affected languor, always well kept under by the +laws of good-breeding,--but still it loves abundant life, opulent and +showy organizations,--the spherical rather than the plane trigonometry of +female architecture,--plenty of red blood, flashing eyes, tropical +voices, and forms that bear the splendors of dress without growing pale +beneath their lustre. Among these you will find the most delicious women +you will ever meet,--women whom dress and flattery and the round of city +gayeties cannot spoil,--talking with whom, you forget their diamonds and +laces,--and around whom all the nice details of elegance, which the +cold-blooded beauty next them is scanning so nicely, blend in one +harmonious whole, too perfect to be disturbed by the petulant sparkle of +a jewel, or the yellow glare of a bangle, or the gay toss of a feather. + +There are many things that I, personally, love better than fashion or +wealth. Not to speak of those highest objects of our love and loyalty, I +think I love ease and independence better than the golden slavery of +perpetual matinees and soirees, or the pleasures of accumulation. + +But fashion and wealth are two very solemn realities, which the frivolous +class of moralists have talked a great deal of silly stuff about. +Fashion is only the attempt to realize Art in living forms and social +intercourse. What business has a man who knows nothing about the +beautiful, and cannot pronounce the word view, to talk about fashion to a +set of people who, if one of the quality left a card at their doors, +would contrive to keep it on the very top of their heap of the names of +their two-story acquaintances, till it was as yellow as the Codex +Vaticanus? + +Wealth, too,--what an endless repetition of the same foolish trivialities +about it! Take the single fact of its alleged uncertain tenure and +transitory character. In old times, when men were all the time fighting +and robbing each other,--in those tropical countries where the Sabeans +and the Chaldeans stole all a man's cattle and camels, and there were +frightful tornadoes and rains of fire from heaven, it was true enough +that riches took wings to themselves not unfrequently in a very +unexpected way. But, with common prudence in investments, it is not so +now. In fact, there is nothing earthly that lasts so well, on the whole, +as money. A man's learning dies with him; even his virtues fade out of +remembrance, but the dividends on the stocks he bequeaths to his children +live and keep his memory green. + +I do not think there is much courage or originality in giving utterance +to truths that everybody knows, but which get overlaid by conventional +trumpery. The only distinction which it is necessary to point out to +feeble-minded folk is this: that, in asserting the breadth and depth of +that significance which gives to fashion and fortune their tremendous +power, we do not indorse the extravagances which often disgrace the one, +nor the meanness which often degrades the other. + +A remark which seems to contradict a universally current opinion is not +generally to be taken "neat," but watered with the ideas of common-sense +and commonplace people. So, if any of my young friends should be tempted +to waste their substance on white kids and "all-rounds," or to insist on +becoming millionaires at once, by anything I have said, I will give them +references to some of the class referred to, well known to the public as +providers of literary diluents, who will weaken any truth so that there +is not an old woman in the land who cannot take it with perfect impunity. + +I am afraid some of the blessed saints in diamonds will think I mean to +flatter them. I hope not;--if I do, set it down as a weakness. But there +is so much foolish talk about wealth and fashion, (which, of course, draw +a good many heartless and essentially vulgar people into the glare of +their candelabra, but which have a real respectability and meaning, if we +will only look at them stereoscopically, with both eyes instead of one,) +that I thought it a duty to speak a few words for them. Why can't +somebody give us a list of things that everybody thinks and nobody says, +and another list of things that everybody says and nobody thinks? + +Lest my parish should suppose we have forgotten graver matters in +these lesser topics, I beg them to drop these trifles and read the +following lesson for the day. + + THE TWO STREAMS. + + Behold the rocky wall + That down its sloping sides + Pours the swift rain-drops, blending, as they fall, + In rushing river-tides! + + Yon stream, whose sources run + Turned by a pebble's edge, + Is Athabasca, rolling toward the sun + Through the cleft mountain-ledge. + + The slender rill had strayed, + But for the slanting stone, + To evening's ocean, with the tangled braid + Of foam-flecked Oregon. + + So from the heights of Will + Life's parting stream descends, + And, as a moment turns its slender rill, + Each widening torrent bends, + + From the same cradle's side, + From the same mother's knee, + --One to long darkness and the frozen tide, + One to the Peaceful Sea! + + + + +VII + +Our landlady's daughter is a young lady of some pretensions to gentility. +She wears her bonnet well back on her head, which is known by all to be a +mark of high breeding. She wears her trains very long, as the great +ladies do in Europe. To be sure, their dresses are so made only to sweep +the tapestried floors of chateaux and palaces; as those odious +aristocrats of the other side do not go draggling through the mud in +silks and satins, but, forsooth, must ride in coaches when they are in +full dress. It is true, that, considering various habits of the American +people, also the little accidents which the best-kept sidewalks are +liable to, a lady who has swept a mile of them is not exactly in such a +condition that one would care to be her neighbor. But then there is no +need of being so hard on these slight weaknesses of the poor, dear women +as our little deformed gentleman was the other day. + +--There are no such women as the Boston women, Sir,--he said. Forty-two +degrees, north latitude, Rome, Sir, Boston, Sir! They had grand women in +old Rome, Sir,--and the women bore such men--children as never the world +saw before. And so it was here, Sir. I tell you, the revolution the +Boston boys started had to run in woman's milk before it ran in man's +blood, Sir! + +But confound the make-believe women we have turned loose in our +streets!--where do they come from? Not out of Boston parlors, I trust. +Why, there is n't a beast or a bird that would drag its tail through the +dirt in the way these creatures do their dresses. Because a queen or a +duchess wears long robes on great occasions, a maid-of-all-work or a +factory-girl thinks she must make herself a nuisance by trailing through +the street, picking up and carrying about with her pah!--that's what I +call getting vulgarity into your bones and marrow. Making believe be +what you are not is the essence of vulgarity. Show over dirt is the one +attribute of vulgar people. If any man can walk behind one of these women +and see what she rakes up as she goes, and not feel squeamish, he has got +a tough stomach. I wouldn't let one of 'em into my room without serving +'em as David served Saul at the cave in the wilderness,--cut off his +skirts, Sir! cut off his skirts! + +I suggested, that I had seen some pretty stylish ladies who offended in +the way he condemned. + +Stylish women, I don't doubt,--said the Little Gentleman.--Don't tell me +that a true lady ever sacrifices the duty of keeping all about her sweet +and clean to the wish of making a vulgar show. I won't believe it of a +lady. There are some things that no fashion has any right to touch, and +cleanliness is one of those things. If a woman wishes to show that her +husband or her father has got money, which she wants and means to spend, +but doesn't know how, let her buy a yard or two of silk and pin it to her +dress when she goes out to walk, but let her unpin it before she goes +into the house;--there may be poor women that will think it worth +disinfecting. It is an insult to a respectable laundress to carry such +things into a house for her to deal with. I don't like the Bloomers any +too well,--in fact, I never saw but one, and she--or he, or it--had a mob +of boys after her, or whatever you call the creature, as if she had been +a----- + +The Little Gentleman stopped short,--flushed somewhat, and looked round +with that involuntary, suspicious glance which the subjects of any bodily +misfortune are very apt to cast round them. His eye wandered over the +company, none of whom, excepting myself and one other, had, probably, +noticed the movement. They fell at last on Iris,--his next neighbor, you +remember. + +--We know in a moment, on looking suddenly at a person, if that person's +eyes have been fixed on us. + +Sometimes we are conscious of it before we turn so as to see the person. +Strange secrets of curiosity, of impertinence, of malice, of love, leak +out in this way. There is no need of Mrs. Felix Lorraine's reflection in +the mirror, to tell us that she is plotting evil for us behind our backs. +We know it, as we know by the ominous stillness of a child that some +mischief or other is going-on. A young girl betrays, in a moment, that +her eyes have been feeding on the face where you find them fixed, and +not merely brushing over it with their pencils of blue or brown light. + +A certain involuntary adjustment assimilates us, you may also observe, to +that upon which we look. Roses redden the cheeks of her who stoops to +gather them, and buttercups turn little people's chins yellow. When we +look at a vast landscape, our chests expand as if we would enlarge to +fill it. When we examine a minute object, we naturally contract, not +only our foreheads, but all our dimensions. If I see two men wrestling, I +wrestle too, with my limbs and features. When a country-fellow comes +upon the stage, you will see twenty faces in the boxes putting on the +bumpkin expression. There is no need of multiplying instances to reach +this generalization; every person and thing we look upon puts its special +mark upon us. If this is repeated often enough, we get a permanent +resemblance to it, or, at least, a fixed aspect which we took from it. +Husband and wife come to look alike at last, as has often been noticed. +It is a common saying of a jockey, that he is "all horse"; and I have +often fancied that milkmen get a stiff, upright carriage, and an angular +movement of the arm, that remind one of a pump and the working of its +handle. + +All this came in by accident, just because I happened to mention that the +Little Gentleman found that Iris had been looking at him with her soul in +her eyes, when his glance rested on her after wandering round the +company. What he thought, it is hard to say; but the shadow of suspicion +faded off from his face, and he looked calmly into the amber eyes, +resting his cheek upon the hand that wore the red jewel. + +--If it were a possible thing,--women are such strange creatures! Is +there any trick that love and their own fancies do not play them? Just +see how they marry! A woman that gets hold of a bit of manhood is like +one of those Chinese wood-carvers who work on any odd, fantastic root +that comes to hand, and, if it is only bulbous above and bifurcated +below, will always contrive to make a man--such as he is--out of it. I +should like to see any kind of a man, distinguishable from a Gorilla, +that some good and even pretty woman could not shape a husband out of. + +--A child,--yes, if you choose to call her so, but such a child! Do you +know how Art brings all ages together? There is no age to the angels and +ideal human forms among which the artist lives, and he shares their youth +until his hand trembles and his eye grows dim. The youthful painter talks +of white-bearded Leonardo as if he were a brother, and the veteran +forgets that Raphael died at an age to which his own is of patriarchal +antiquity. + +But why this lover of the beautiful should be so drawn to one whom Nature +has wronged so deeply seems hard to explain. Pity, I suppose. They say +that leads to love. + +--I thought this matter over until I became excited and curious, and +determined to set myself more seriously at work to find out what was +going on in these wild hearts and where their passionate lives were +drifting. I say wild hearts and passionate lives, because I think I can +look through this seeming calmness of youth and this apparent feebleness +of organization, and see that Nature, whom it is very hard to cheat, is +only waiting as the sapper waits in his mine, knowing that all is in +readiness and the slow-match burning quietly down to the powder. He will +leave it by-and-by, and then it will take care of itself. + +One need not wait to see the smoke coming through the roof of a house and +the flames breaking out of the windows to know that the building is on +fire. Hark! There is a quiet, steady, unobtrusive, crisp, not loud, but +very knowing little creeping crackle that is tolerably intelligible. +There is a whiff of something floating about, suggestive of toasting +shingles. Also a sharp pyroligneous-acid pungency in the air that stings +one's eyes. Let us get up and see what is going on.--Oh,--oh,--oh! do +you know what has got hold of you? It is the great red dragon that is +born of the little red eggs we call sparks, with his hundred blowing red +manes, and his thousand lashing red tails, and his multitudinous red eyes +glaring at every crack and key-hole, and his countless red tongues +lapping the beams he is going to crunch presently, and his hot breath +warping the panels and cracking the glass and making old timber sweat +that had forgotten it was ever alive with sap. Run for your life! leap! +or you will be a cinder in five minutes, that nothing but a coroner would +take for the wreck of a human being! + +If any gentleman will have the kindness to stop this run-away comparison, +I shall be much obliged to him. All I intended to say was, that we need +not wait for hearts to break out in flames to know that they are full of +combustibles and that a spark has got among them. I don't pretend to say +or know what it is that brings these two persons together;--and when I +say together, I only mean that there is an evident affinity of some kind +or other which makes their commonest intercourse strangely significant, +as that each seems to understand a look or a word of the other. When the +young girl laid her hand on the Little Gentleman's arm,--which so greatly +shocked the Model, you may remember,--I saw that she had learned the +lion-tamer's secret. She masters him, and yet I can see she has a kind +of awe of him, as the man who goes into the cage has of the monster that +he makes a baby of. + +One of two things must happen. The first is love, downright love, on the +part of this young girl, for the poor little misshapen man. You may +laugh, if you like. But women are apt to love the men who they think +have the largest capacity of loving;--and who can love like one that has +thirsted all his life long for the smile of youth and beauty, and seen it +fly his presence as the wave ebbed from the parched lips of him whose +fabled punishment is the perpetual type of human longing and +disappointment? What would become of him, if this fresh soul should +stoop upon him in her first young passion, as the flamingo drops out of +the sky upon some lonely and dark lagoon in the marshes of Cagliari, with +a flutter of scarlet feathers and a kindling of strange fires in the +shadowy waters that hold her burning image? + +--Marry her, of course?--Why, no, not of course. I should think the +chance less, on the whole, that he would be willing to marry her than she +to marry him. + +There is one other thing that might happen. If the interest he awakes in +her gets to be a deep one, and yet has nothing of love in it, she will +glance off from him into some great passion or other. All excitements run +to love in women of a certain--let us not say age, but youth. An +electrical current passing through a coil of wire makes a magnet of a bar +of iron lying within it, but not touching it. So a woman is turned into +a love-magnet by a tingling current of life running round her. I should +like to see one of them balanced on a pivot properly adjusted, and watch +if she did not turn so as to point north and south,--as she would, if the +love-currents are like those of the earth our mother. + +Pray, do you happen to remember Wordsworth's "Boy of Windermere"? This +boy used to put his hands to his mouth, and shout aloud, mimicking the +hooting of the owls, who would answer him + + "with quivering peals, + And long halloos and screams, and echoes loud + Redoubled and redoubled." + +When they failed to answer him, and he hung listening intently for their +voices, he would sometimes catch the faint sound of far distant +waterfalls, or the whole scene around him would imprint itself with new +force upon his perceptions.--Read the sonnet, if you please;--it is +Wordsworth all over,--trivial in subject, solemn in style, vivid in +description, prolix in detail, true metaphysically, but immensely +suggestive of "imagination," to use a mild term, when related as an +actual fact of a sprightly youngster. All I want of it is to enforce the +principle, that, when the door of the soul is once opened to a guest, +there is no knowing who will come in next. + +--Our young girl keeps up her early habit of sketching heads and +characters. Nobody is, I should think, more faithful and exact in the +drawing of the academical figures given her as lessons, but there is a +perpetual arabesque of fancies that runs round the margin of her +drawings, and there is one book which I know she keeps to run riot in, +where, if anywhere, a shrewd eye would be most likely to read her +thoughts. This book of hers I mean to see, if I can get at it honorably. + +I have never yet crossed the threshold of the Little Gentleman's chamber. +How he lives, when he once gets within it, I can only guess. His hours +are late, as I have said; often, on waking late in the night, I see the +light through cracks in his window-shutters on the wall of the house +opposite. If the times of witchcraft were not over, I should be afraid +to be so close a neighbor to a place from which there come such strange +noises. Sometimes it is the dragging of something heavy over the floor, +that makes me shiver to hear it,--it sounds so like what people that +kill other people have to do now and then. Occasionally I hear very +sweet strains of music,--whether of a wind or stringed instrument, or a +human voice, strange as it may seem, I have often tried to find out, but +through the partition I could not be quite sure. If I have not heard a +woman cry and moan, and then again laugh as though she would die +laughing, I have heard sounds so like them that--I am a fool to confess +it--I have covered my head with the bedclothes; for I have had a fancy in +my dreams, that I could hardly shake off when I woke up, about that +so-called witch that was his great-grandmother, or whatever it was,--a +sort of fancy that she visited the Little Gentleman,--a young woman in +old-fashioned dress, with a red ring round her white neck,--not a +neck-lace, but a dull-stain. + +Of course you don't suppose that I have any foolish superstitions about +the matter,--I, the Professor, who have seen enough to take all that +nonsense out of any man's head! It is not our beliefs that frighten us +half so much as our fancies. A man not only believes, but knows he runs +a risk, whenever he steps into a railroad car; but it does n't worry him +much. On the other hand, carry that man across a pasture a little way +from some dreary country-village, and show him an old house where there +were strange deaths a good many years ago, and there are rumors of ugly +spots on the walls,--the old man hung himself in the garret, that is +certain, and ever since the country-people have called it "the haunted +house,"--the owners have n't been able to let it since the last tenants +left on account of the noises,--so it has fallen into sad decay, and the +moss grows on the rotten shingles of the roof, and the clapboards have +turned black, and the windows rattle like teeth that chatter with fear, +and the walls of the house begin to lean as if its knees were shaking, +--take the man who did n't mind the real risk of the cars to that old +house, on some dreary November evening, and ask him to sleep there +alone,--how do you think he will like it? He doesn't believe one word of +ghosts,--but then he knows, that, whether waking or sleeping, his +imagination will people the haunted chambers with ghostly images. It is +not what we believe, as I said before, that frightens us commonly, but +what we conceive. A principle that reaches a good way if I am not +mistaken. I say, then, that, if these odd sounds coming from the Little +Gentleman's chamber sometimes make me nervous, so that I cannot get to +sleep, it is not because I suppose he is engaged in any unlawful or +mysterious way. The only wicked suggestion that ever came into my head +was one that was founded on the landlady's story of his having a pile of +gold; it was a ridiculous fancy; besides, I suspect the story of sweating +gold was only one of the many fables got up to make the Jews odious and +afford a pretext for plundering them. As for the sound like a woman +laughing and crying, I never said it was a woman's voice; for, in the +first place, I could only hear indistinctly; and, secondly, he may have +an organ, or some queer instrument or other, with what they call the vox +humana stop. If he moves his bed round to get away from the window, or +for any such reason, there is nothing very frightful in that simple +operation. Most of our foolish conceits explain themselves in some such +simple way. And, yet, for all that, I confess, that, when I woke up the +other evening, and heard, first a sweet complaining cry, and then +footsteps, and then the dragging sound,--nothing but his bed, I am quite +sure,--I felt a stirring in the roots of my hair as the feasters did in +Keats's terrible poem of "Lamia." + +There is nothing very odd in my feeling nervous when I happen to lie +awake and get listening for sounds. Just keep your ears open any time +after midnight, when you are lying in bed in a lone attic of a dark +night. What horrid, strange, suggestive, unaccountable noises you will +hear! The stillness of night is a vulgar error. All the dead things +seem to be alive. Crack! That is the old chest of drawers; you never +hear it crack in the daytime. Creak! There's a door ajar; you know you +shut them all. + +Where can that latch be that rattles so? Is anybody trying it softly? +or, worse than any body, is----? (Cold shiver.) Then a sudden gust that +jars all the windows;--very strange!--there does not seem to be any wind +about that it belongs to. When it stops, you hear the worms boring in +the powdery beams overhead. Then steps outside,--a stray animal, no +doubt. All right,--but a gentle moisture breaks out all over you; and +then something like a whistle or a cry,--another gust of wind, perhaps; +that accounts for the rustling that just made your heart roll over and +tumble about, so that it felt more like a live rat under your ribs than a +part of your own body; then a crash of something that has fallen,--blown +over, very likely----Pater noster, qui es in coelis! for you are damp and +cold, and sitting bolt upright, and the bed trembling so that the +death-watch is frightened and has stopped ticking! + +No,--night is an awful time for strange noises and secret doings. Who +ever dreamed, till one of our sleepless neighbors told us of it, of that +Walpurgis gathering of birds and beasts of prey,--foxes, and owls, and +crows, and eagles, that come from all the country round on moonshiny +nights to crunch the clams and muscles, and pick out the eyes of dead +fishes that the storm has thrown on Chelsea Beach? Our old mother Nature +has pleasant and cheery tones enough for us when she comes in her dress +of blue and gold over the eastern hill-tops; but when she follows us +up-stairs to our beds in her suit of black velvet and diamonds, every +creak of her sandals and every whisper of her lips is full of mystery and +fear. + +You understand, then, distinctly, that I do not believe there is anything +about this singular little neighbor of mine which is as it should not be. +Probably a visit to his room would clear up all that has puzzled me, and +make me laugh at the notions which began, I suppose, in nightmares, and +ended by keeping my imagination at work so as almost to make me +uncomfortable at times. But it is not so easy to visit him as some of +our other boarders, for various reasons which I will not stop to mention. +I think some of them are rather pleased to get "the Professor" under +their ceilings. + +The young man John, for instance, asked me to come up one day and try +some "old Burbon," which he said was A 1. On asking him what was the +number of his room, he answered, that it was forty-'leven, sky-parlor +floor, but that I shouldn't find it, if he did n't go ahead to show me +the way. I followed him to his habitat, being very willing to see in +what kind of warren he burrowed, and thinking I might pick up something +about the boarders who had excited my curiosity. + +Mighty close quarters they were where the young man John bestowed himself +and his furniture; this last consisting of a bed, a chair, a bureau, a +trunk, and numerous pegs with coats and "pants" and "vests,"--as he was +in the habit of calling waist-coats and pantaloons or trousers,--hanging +up as if the owner had melted out of them. Several prints were pinned up +unframed,--among them that grand national portrait-piece, "Barnum +presenting Ossian E. Dodge to Jenny Lind," and a picture of a famous +trot, in which I admired anew the cabalistic air of that imposing array +of expressions, and especially the Italicized word, "Dan Mace names b. h. +Major Slocum," and "Hiram Woodruff names g. m. Lady Smith." "Best three +in five. Time: 2.40, 2.46, 2.50." + +That set me thinking how very odd this matter of trotting horses is, as +an index of the mathematical exactness of the laws of living mechanism. +I saw Lady Suffolk trot a mile in 2.26. Flora Temple has trotted close +down to 2.20; and Ethan Allen in 2.25, or less. Many horses have trotted +their mile under 2.30; none that I remember in public as low down as +2.20. From five to ten seconds, then, in about a hundred and sixty is +the whole range of the maxima of the present race of trotting horses. +The same thing is seen in the running of men. Many can run a mile in +five minutes; but when one comes to the fractions below, they taper down +until somewhere about 4.30 the maximum is reached. Averages of masses +have been studied more than averages of maxima and minima. We know from +the Registrar-General's Reports, that a certain number of children--say +from one to two dozen--die every year in England from drinking hot water +out of spouts of teakettles. We know, that, among suicides, women and +men past a certain age almost never use fire-arms. A woman who has made +up her mind to die is still afraid of a pistol or a gun. Or is it that +the explosion would derange her costume? + +I say, averages of masses we have, but our tables of maxima we owe to the +sporting men more than to the philosophers. The lesson their experience +teaches is, that Nature makes no leaps,--does nothing per saltum. The +greatest brain that ever lived, no doubt, was only a small fraction of an +idea ahead of the second best. Just look at the chess-players. Leaving +out the phenomenal exceptions, the nice shades that separate the skilful +ones show how closely their brains approximate,--almost as closely as +chronometers. Such a person is a "knight-player,"--he must have that +piece given him. Another must have two pawns. Another, "pawn and two," +or one pawn and two moves. Then we find one who claims "pawn and move," +holding himself, with this fractional advantage, a match for one who +would be pretty sure to beat him playing even.--So much are minds alike; +and you and I think we are "peculiar,"--that Nature broke her jelly-mould +after shaping our cerebral convolutions. So I reflected, standing and +looking at the picture. + +--I say, Governor,--broke in the young man John,--them bosses '11 stay +jest as well, if you'll only set down. I've had 'em this year, and they +haven't stirred.--He spoke, and handed the chair towards me,--seating +himself, at the same time, on the end of the bed. + +You have lived in this house some time?--I said,--with a note of +interrogation at the end of the statement. + +Do I look as if I'd lost much flesh--said he, answering my question by +another. + +No,--said I;--for that matter, I think you do credit to "the bountifully +furnished table of the excellent lady who provides so liberally for the +company that meets around her hospitable board." + +[The sentence in quotation-marks was from one of those disinterested +editorials in small type, which I suspect to have been furnished by a +friend of the landlady's, and paid for as an advertisement. This +impartial testimony to the superior qualities of the establishment and +its head attracted a number of applicants for admission, and a couple of +new boarders made a brief appearance at the table. One of them was of +the class of people who grumble if they don't get canvas-backs and +woodcocks every day, for three-fifty per week. The other was subject to +somnambulism, or walking in the night, when he ought to have been asleep +in his bed. In this state he walked into several of the boarders' +chambers, his eyes wide open, as is usual with somnambulists, and, from +some odd instinct or other, wishing to know what the hour was, got +together a number of their watches, for the purpose of comparing them, as +it would seem. Among them was a repeater, belonging to our young +Marylander. He happened to wake up while the somnambulist was in his +chamber, and, not knowing his infirmity, caught hold of him and gave him +a dreadful shaking, after which he tied his hands and feet, and so left +him till morning, when he introduced him to a gentleman used to taking +care of such cases of somnambulism.] + +If you, my reader, will please to skip backward, over this parenthesis, +you will come to our conversation, which it has interrupted. + +It a'n't the feed,--said the young man John,--it's the old woman's looks +when a fellah lays it in too strong. The feed's well enough. After geese +have got tough, 'n' turkeys have got strong, 'n' lamb's got old, 'n' +veal's pretty nigh beef, 'n' sparragrass 's growin' tall 'n' slim 'n' +scattery about the head, 'n' green peas are gettin' so big 'n' hard +they'd be dangerous if you fired 'em out of a revolver, we get hold of +all them delicacies of the season. But it's too much like feedin' on +live folks and devourin' widdah's substance, to lay yourself out in the +eatin' way, when a fellah 's as hungry as the chap that said a turkey was +too much for one 'n' not enough for two. I can't help lookin' at the old +woman. Corned-beef-days she's tolerable calm. Roastin'-days she worries +some, 'n' keeps a sharp eye on the chap that carves. But when there's +anything in the poultry line, it seems to hurt her feelin's so to see the +knife goin' into the breast and joints comin' to pieces, that there's no +comfort in eatin'. When I cut up an old fowl and help the boarders, I +always feel as if I ought to say, Won't you have a slice of +widdah?--instead of chicken. + +The young man John fell into a train of reflections which ended in his +producing a Bologna sausage, a plate of "crackers," as we Boston folks +call certain biscuits, and the bottle of whiskey described as being A 1. + +Under the influence of the crackers and sausage, he grew cordial and +communicative. + +It was time, I thought, to sound him as to those of our boarders who had +excited my curiosity. + +What do you think of our young Iris?--I began. + +Fust-rate little filly;-he said.--Pootiest and nicest little chap I've +seen since the schoolma'am left. Schoolma'am was a brown-haired +one,--eyes coffee-color. This one has got wine-colored eyes,--'n' that +'s the reason they turn a fellah's head, I suppose. + +This is a splendid blonde,--I said,--the other was a brunette. Which +style do you like best? + +Which do I like best, boiled mutton or roast mutton?--said the young man +John. Like 'em both,--it a'n't the color of 'em makes the goodness. I +'ve been kind of lonely since schoolma'am went away. Used to like to look +at her. I never said anything particular to her, that I remember, but-- + +I don't know whether it was the cracker and sausage, or that the young +fellow's feet were treading on the hot ashes of some longing that had not +had time to cool, but his eye glistened as he stopped. + +I suppose she wouldn't have looked at a fellah like me,--he said,--but I +come pretty near tryin'. If she had said, Yes, though, I shouldn't have +known what to have done with her. Can't marry a woman now-a-days till +you're so deaf you have to cock your head like a parrot to hear what she +says, and so longsighted you can't see what she looks like nearer than +arm's-length. + +Here is another chance for you,--I said.--What do you want nicer than +such a young lady as Iris? + +It's no use,--he answered.--I look at them girls and feel as the fellah +did when he missed catchin' the trout.--'To'od 'a' cost more butter to +cook him 'n' he's worth,--says the fellah.--Takes a whole piece o' goods +to cover a girl up now-a-days. I'd as lief undertake to keep a span of +elephants,--and take an ostrich to board, too,--as to marry one of 'em. +What's the use? Clerks and counter-jumpers ain't anything. Sparragrass +and green peas a'n't for them,--not while they're young and tender. +Hossback-ridin' a'n't for them,--except once a year, on Fast-day. And +marryin' a'n't for them. Sometimes a fellah feels lonely, and would like +to have a nice young woman, to tell her how lonely he feels. And +sometimes a fellah,--here the young man John looked very confidential, +and, perhaps, as if a little ashamed of his weakness,--sometimes a fellah +would like to have one o' them small young ones to trot on his knee and +push about in a little wagon,--a kind of a little Johnny, you know;--it's +odd enough, but, it seems to me, nobody can afford them little articles, +except the folks that are so rich they can buy everything, and the folks +that are so poor they don't want anything. It makes nice boys of us +young fellahs, no doubt! And it's pleasant to see fine young girls +sittin', like shopkeepers behind their goods, waitin', and waitin', and +waitin', 'n' no customers,--and the men lingerin' round and lookin' at +the goods, like folks that want to be customers, but have n't the money! + +Do you think the deformed gentleman means to make love to Iris?--I said. + +What! Little Boston ask that girl to marry him! Well, now, that's +cumin' of it a little too strong. Yes, I guess she will marry him and +carry him round in a basket, like a lame bantam: Look here!--he said, +mysteriously;--one of the boarders swears there's a woman comes to see +him, and that he has heard her singin' and screechin'. I should like to +know what he's about in that den of his. He lays low 'n' keeps +dark,--and, I tell you, there's a good many of the boarders would like to +get into his chamber, but he don't seem to want 'em. Biddy could tell +somethin' about what she's seen when she 's been to put his room to +rights. She's a Paddy 'n' a fool, but she knows enough to keep her +tongue still. All I know is, I saw her crossin' herself one day when she +came out of that room. She looked pale enough, 'n' I heard her mutterin' +somethin' or other about the Blessed Virgin. If it had n't been for the +double doors to that chamber of his, I'd have had a squint inside before +this; but, somehow or other, it never seems to happen that they're both +open at once. + +What do you think he employs himself about? said I. + +The young man John winked. + +I waited patiently for the thought, of which this wink was the blossom, +to come to fruit in words. + +I don't believe in witches,--said the young man John. + +Nor I. + +We were both silent for a few minutes. + +--Did you ever see the young girl's drawing-books,--I said, presently. + +All but one,--he answered;--she keeps a lock on that, and won't show it. +Ma'am Allen, (the young rogue sticks to that name, in speaking of the +gentleman with the diamond,) Ma'am Allen tried to peek into it one day +when she left it on the sideboard. "If you please," says she,--'n' took +it from him, 'n' gave him a look that made him curl up like a caterpillar +on a hot shovel. I only wished he had n't, and had jest given her a +little sass, for I've been takin' boxin'-lessons, 'n' I 've got a new way +of counterin' I want to try on to somebody. + +--The end of all this was, that I came away from the young fellow's room, +feeling that there were two principal things that I had to live for, for +the next six weeks or six months, if it should take so long. These were, +to get a sight of the young girl's drawing-book, which I suspected had +her heart shut up in it, and to get a look into the Little Gentleman's +room. + +I don't doubt you think it rather absurd that I should trouble myself +about these matters. You tell me, with some show of reason, that all I +shall find in the young girl's--book will be some outlines of angels with +immense eyes, traceries of flowers, rural sketches, and caricatures, +among which I shall probably have the pleasure of seeing my own features +figuring. Very likely. But I'll tell you what I think I shall find. If +this child has idealized the strange little bit of humanity over which +she seems to have spread her wings like a brooding dove,--if, in one of +those wild vagaries that passionate natures are so liable to, she has +fairly sprung upon him with her clasping nature, as the sea-flowers fold +about the first stray shell-fish that brushes their outspread tentacles, +depend upon it, I shall find the marks of it in this drawing-book of +hers,--if I can ever get a look at it,--fairly, of course, for I would +not play tricks to satisfy my curiosity. + +Then, if I can get into this Little Gentleman's room under any fair +pretext, I shall, no doubt, satisfy myself in five minutes that he is +just like other people, and that there is no particular mystery about +him. + +The night after my visit to the young man John, I made all these and many +more reflections. It was about two o'clock in the morning,--bright +starlight,--so light that I could make out the time on my +alarm-clock,--when I woke up trembling and very moist. It was the heavy +dragging sound, as I had often heard it before that waked me. Presently a +window was softly closed. I had just begun to get over the agitation +with which we always awake from nightmare dreams, when I heard the sound +which seemed to me as of a woman's voice,--the clearest, purest soprano +which one could well conceive of. It was not loud, and I could not +distinguish a word, if it was a woman's voice; but there were recurring +phrases of sound and snatches of rhythm that reached me, which suggested +the idea of complaint, and sometimes, I thought, of passionate grief and +despair. It died away at last,--and then I heard the opening of a door, +followed by a low, monotonous sound, as of one talking,--and then the +closing of a door,--and presently the light on the opposite wall +disappeared and all was still for the night. + +By George! this gets interesting,--I said, as I got out of bed for a +change of night-clothes. + +I had this in my pocket the other day, but thought I would n't read +it at our celebration. So I read it to the boarders instead, and +print it to finish off this record with. + + + ROBINSON OF LEYDEN. + + He sleeps not here; in hope and prayer + His wandering flock had gone before, + But he, the shepherd, might not share + Their sorrows on the wintry shore. + + Before the Speedwell's anchor swung, + Ere yet the Mayflower's sail was spread, + While round his feet the Pilgrims clung, + The pastor spake, and thus he said:-- + + "Men, brethren, sisters, children dear! + God calls you hence from over sea; + Ye may not build by Haerlem Meer, + Nor yet along the Zuyder-Zee. + + "Ye go to bear the saving word + To tribes unnamed and shores untrod: + Heed well the lessons ye have heard + From those old teachers taught of God. + + "Yet think not unto them was lent + All light for all the coming days, + And Heaven's eternal wisdom spent + In making straight the ancient ways. + + "The living fountain overflows + For every flock, for every lamb, + Nor heeds, though angry creeds oppose + With Luther's dike or Calvin's dam." + + He spake; with lingering, long embrace, + With tears of love and partings fond, + They floated down the creeping Maas, + Along the isle of Ysselmond. + + They passed the frowning towers of Briel, + The "Hook of Holland's" shelf of sand, + And grated soon with lifting keel + The sullen shores of Fatherland. + + No home for these!--too well they knew + The mitred king behind the throne; + The sails were set, the pennons flew, + And westward ho! for worlds unknown. + + --And these were they who gave us birth, + The Pilgrims of the sunset wave, + Who won for us this virgin earth, + And freedom with the soil they gave. + + The pastor slumbers by the Rhine, + --In alien earth the exiles lie, + --Their nameless graves our holiest shrine, + His words our noblest battle-cry! + + Still cry them, and the world shall hear, + Ye dwellers by the storm-swept sea! + Ye have not built by Haerlem Meer, + Nor on the land-locked Zuyder-Zee! + + + + +VIII + +There has been a sort of stillness in the atmosphere of our +boarding-house since my last record, as if something or other were going +on. There is no particular change that I can think of in the aspect of +things; yet I have a feeling as if some game of life were quietly playing +and strange forces were at work, underneath this smooth surface of +every-day boardinghouse life, which would show themselves some fine +morning or other in events, if not in catastrophes. I have been +watchful, as I said I should be, but have little to tell as yet. You may +laugh at me, and very likely think me foolishly fanciful to trouble +myself about what is going on in a middling-class household like ours. +Do as you like. But here is that terrible fact to begin with,--a +beautiful young girl, with the blood and the nerve-fibre that belong to +Nature's women, turned loose among live men. + +-Terrible fact? + +Very terrible. Nothing more so. Do you forget the angels who lost +heaven for the daughters of men? Do you forget Helen, and the fair women +who made mischief and set nations by the ears before Helen was born? If +jealousies that gnaw men's hearts out of their bodies,--if pangs that +waste men to shadows and drive them into raving madness or moping +melancholy,--if assassination and suicide are dreadful possibilities, +then there is always something frightful about a lovely young woman.--I +love to look at this "Rainbow," as her father used sometimes to call her, +of ours. Handsome creature that she is in forms and colors,--the very +picture, as it seems to me, of that "golden blonde" my friend whose book +you read last year fell in love with when he was a boy, (as you remember, +no doubt,)--handsome as she is, fit for a sea-king's bride, it is not her +beauty alone that holds my eyes upon her. Let me tell you one of my +fancies, and then you will understand the strange sort of fascination she +has for me. + +It is in the hearts of many men and women--let me add children--that +there is a Great Secret waiting for them,--a secret of which they get +hints now and then, perhaps oftener in early than in later years. These +hints come sometimes in dreams, sometimes in sudden startling +flashes,--second wakings, as it were,--a waking out of the waking state, +which last is very apt to be a half-sleep. I have many times stopped +short and held my breath, and felt the blood leaving my cheeks, in one of +these sudden clairvoyant flashes. Of course I cannot tell what kind of a +secret this is, but I think of it as a disclosure of certain relations of +our personal being to time and space, to other intelligences, to the +procession of events, and to their First Great Cause. This secret seems +to be broken up, as it were, into fragments, so that we find here a word +and there a syllable, and then again only a letter of it; but it never is +written out for most of us as a complete sentence, in this life. I do +not think it could be; for I am disposed to consider our beliefs about +such a possible disclosure rather as a kind of premonition of an +enlargement of our faculties in some future state than as an expectation +to be fulfilled for most of us in this life. Persons, however, have +fallen into trances,--as did the Reverend William Tennent, among many +others,--and learned some things which they could not tell in our human +words. + +Now among the visible objects which hint to us fragments of this infinite +secret for which our souls are waiting, the faces of women are those that +carry the most legible hieroglyphics of the great mystery. There are +women's faces, some real, some ideal, which contain something in them +that becomes a positive element in our creed, so direct and palpable a +revelation is it of the infinite purity and love. I remember two faces +of women with wings, such as they call angels, of Fra Angelico,--and I +just now came across a print of Raphael's Santa Apollina, with something +of the same quality,--which I was sure had their prototypes in the world +above ours. No wonder the Catholics pay their vows to the Queen of +Heaven! The unpoetical side of Protestantism is, that it has no women to +be worshipped. + +But mind you, it is not every beautiful face that hints the Great Secret +to us, nor is it only in beautiful faces that we find traces of it. +Sometimes it looks out from a sweet sad eye, the only beauty of a plain +countenance; sometimes there is so much meaning in the lips of a woman, +not otherwise fascinating, that we know they have a message for us, and +wait almost with awe to hear their accents. But this young girl has at +once the beauty of feature and the unspoken mystery of expression. Can +she tell me anything? + +Is her life a complement of mine, with the missing element in it which I +have been groping after through so many friendships that I have tired of, +and through--Hush! Is the door fast? Talking loud is a bad trick in +these curious boarding-houses. + +You must have sometimes noted this fact that I am going to remind you of +and to use for a special illustration. Riding along over a rocky road, +suddenly the slow monotonous grinding of the crushing gravel changes to a +deep heavy rumble. There is a great hollow under your feet,--a huge +unsunned cavern. Deep, deep beneath you in the core of the living rock, +it arches its awful vault, and far away it stretches its winding +galleries, their roofs dripping into streams where fishes have been +swimming and spawning in the dark until their scales are white as milk +and their eyes have withered out, obsolete and useless. + +So it is in life. We jog quietly along, meeting the same faces, grinding +over the same thoughts, the gravel of the soul's highway,--now and then +jarred against an obstacle we cannot crush, but must ride over or round +as we best may, sometimes bringing short up against a disappointment, but +still working along with the creaking and rattling and grating and +jerking that belong to the journey of life, even in the smoothest-rolling +vehicle. Suddenly we hear the deep underground reverberation that +reveals the unsuspected depth of some abyss of thought or passion beneath +us. + +I wish the girl would go. I don't like to look at her so much, and yet I +cannot help it. Always that same expression of something that I ought to +know,--something that she was made to tell and I to hear,--lying there +ready to fall off from her lips, ready to leap out of her eyes and make a +saint of me, or a devil or a lunatic, or perhaps a prophet to tell the +truth and be hated of men, or a poet whose words shall flash upon the dry +stubble-field of worn-out thoughts and burn over an age of lies in an +hour of passion. + +It suddenly occurs to me that I may have put you on the wrong track. The +Great Secret that I refer to has nothing to do with the Three Words. Set +your mind at ease about that,--there are reasons I could give you which +settle all that matter. I don't wonder, however, that you confounded the +Great Secret with the Three Words. + +I LOVE YOU is all the secret that many, nay, most women have to tell. +When that is said, they are like China-crackers on the morning of the +fifth of July. And just as that little patriotic implement is made with +a slender train which leads to the magazine in its interior, so a sharp +eye can almost always see the train leading from a young girl's eye or +lip to the "I love you" in her heart. But the Three Words are not the +Great Secret I mean. No, women's faces are only one of the tablets on +which that is written in its partial, fragmentary symbols. It lies +deeper than Love, though very probably Love is a part of it. Some, I +think,--Wordsworth might be one of them,--spell out a portion of it from +certain beautiful natural objects, landscapes, flowers, and others. I can +mention several poems of his that have shadowy hints which seem to me to +come near the region where I think it lies. I have known two persons who +pursued it with the passion of the old alchemists,--all wrong evidently, +but infatuated, and never giving up the daily search for it until they +got tremulous and feeble, and their dreams changed to visions of things +that ran and crawled about their floor and ceilings, and so they died. +The vulgar called them drunkards. + +I told you that I would let you know the mystery of the effect this young +girl's face produces on me. It is akin to those influences a friend of +mine has described, you may remember, as coming from certain voices. I +cannot translate it into words,--only into feelings; and these I have +attempted to shadow by showing that her face hinted that revelation of +something we are close to knowing, which all imaginative persons are +looking for either in this world or on the very threshold of the next. + +You shake your head at the vagueness and fanciful incomprehensibleness of +my description of the expression in a young girl's face. You forget what +a miserable surface-matter this language is in which we try to reproduce +our interior state of being. Articulation is a shallow trick. From the +light Poh! which we toss off from our lips as we fling a nameless +scribbler's impertinence into our waste-baskets, to the gravest +utterances which comes from our throats in our moments of deepest need, +is only a space of some three or four inches. Words, which are a set of +clickings, hissings, lispings, and so on, mean very little, compared to +tones and expression of the features. I give it up; I thought I could +shadow forth in some feeble way, by their aid, the effect this young +girl's face produces on my imagination; but it is of no use. No doubt +your head aches, trying to make something of my description. If there is +here and there one that can make anything intelligible out of my talk +about the Great Secret, and who has spelt out a syllable or two of it on +some woman's face, dead or living, that is all I can expect. One should +see the person with whom he converses about such matters. There are +dreamy-eyed people to whom I should say all these things with a certainty +of being understood;-- + + That moment that his face I see, + I know the man that must hear me + To him my tale I teach. + +--I am afraid some of them have not got a spare quarter of a dollar for +this August number, so that they will never see it. + +--Let us start again, just as if we had not made this ambitious attempt, +which may go for nothing, and you can have your money refunded, if you +will make the change. + +This young girl, about whom I have talked so unintelligibly, is the +unconscious centre of attraction to the whole solar system of our +breakfast-table. The Little Gentleman leans towards her, and she again +seems to be swayed as by some invisible gentle force towards him. That +slight inclination of two persons with a strong affinity towards each +other, throwing them a little out of plumb when they sit side by side, is +a physical fact I have often noticed. Then there is a tendency in all +the men's eyes to converge on her; and I do firmly believe, that, if all +their chairs were examined, they would be found a little obliquely +placed, so as to favor the direction in which their occupants love to +look. + +That bland, quiet old gentleman, of whom I have spoken as sitting +opposite to me, is no exception to the rule. She brought down some +mignonette one morning, which she had grown in her chamber. She gave a +sprig to her little neighbor, and one to the landlady, and sent another +by the hand of Bridget to this old gentleman. + +--Sarvant, Ma'am I Much obleeged,--he said, and put it gallantly in his +button-hole.--After breakfast he must see some of her drawings. Very fine +performances,--very fine!--truly elegant productions, truly elegant!--Had +seen Miss Linwood's needlework in London, in the year (eighteen hundred +and little or nothing, I think he said,)--patronized by the nobility and +gentry, and Her Majesty,--elegant, truly elegant productions, very fine +performances; these drawings reminded him of them;--wonderful resemblance +to Nature; an extraordinary art, painting; Mr. Copley made some very fine +pictures that he remembered seeing when he was a boy. Used to remember +some lines about a portrait Written by Mr. Cowper, beginning, + + "Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd + With me but roughly since I heard thee last." + +And with this the old gentleman fell to thinking about a dead mother of +his that he remembered ever so much younger than he now was, and looking, +not as his mother, but as his daughter should look. The dead young +mother was looking at the old man, her child, as she used to look at him +so many, many years ago. He stood still as if in a waking dream, his +eyes fixed on the drawings till their outlines grew indistinct and they +ran into each other, and a pale, sweet face shaped itself out of the +glimmering light through which he saw them.--What is there quite so +profoundly human as an old man's memory of a mother who died in his +earlier years? Mother she remains till manhood, and by-and-by she grows +to be as a sister; and at last, when, wrinkled and bowed and broken, he +looks back upon her in her fair youth, he sees in the sweet image he +caresses, not his parent, but, as it were, his child. + +If I had not seen all this in the old gentleman's face, the words with +which he broke his silence would have betrayed his train of thought. + +--If they had only taken pictures then as they do now!--he said.--All +gone! all gone! nothing but her face as she leaned on the arms of her +great chair; and I would give a hundred pound for the poorest little +picture of her, such as you can buy for a shilling of anybody that you +don't want to see.--The old gentleman put his hand to his forehead so as +to shade his eyes. I saw he was looking at the dim photograph of memory, +and turned from him to Iris. + +How many drawing-books have you filled,--I said,--since you began to take +lessons?--This was the first,--she answered,--since she was here; and it +was not full, but there were many separate sheets of large size she had +covered with drawings. + +I turned over the leaves of the book before us. Academic studies, +principally of the human figure. Heads of sibyls, prophets, and so +forth. Limbs from statues. Hands and feet from Nature. What a superb +drawing of an arm! I don't remember it among the figures from Michel +Angelo, which seem to have been her patterns mainly. From Nature, I +think, or after a cast from Nature.--Oh! + +--Your smaller studies are in this, I suppose,--I said, taking up the +drawing-book with a lock on it,--Yes,--she said.--I should like to see +her style of working on a small scale.--There was nothing in it worth +showing,--she said; and presently I saw her try the lock, which proved to +be fast. We are all caricatured in it, I haven't the least doubt. I +think, though, I could tell by her way of dealing with us what her +fancies were about us boarders. Some of them act as if they were +bewitched with her, but she does not seem to notice it much. Her +thoughts seem to be on her little neighbor more than on anybody else. +The young fellow John appears to stand second in her good graces. I +think he has once or twice sent her what the landlady's daughter calls +bo-kays of flowers,--somebody has, at any rate.--I saw a book she had, +which must have come from the divinity-student. It had a dreary +title-page, which she had enlivened with a fancy portrait of the +author,--a face from memory, apparently,--one of those faces that small +children loathe without knowing why, and which give them that inward +disgust for heaven so many of the little wretches betray, when they hear +that these are "good men," and that heaven is full of such.--The +gentleman with the diamond--the Koh-i-noor, so called by us--was not +encouraged, I think, by the reception of his packet of perfumed soap. He +pulls his purple moustache and looks appreciatingly at Iris, who never +sees him, as it should seem. The young Marylander, who I thought would +have been in love with her before this time, sometimes looks from his +corner across the long diagonal of the table, as much as to say, I wish +you were up here by me, or I were down there by you,--which would, +perhaps, be a more natural arrangement than the present one. But nothing +comes of all this,--and nothing has come of my sagacious idea of finding +out the girl's fancies by looking into her locked drawing-book. + +Not to give up all the questions I was determined to solve, I made an +attempt also to work into the Little Gentleman's chamber. For this +purpose, I kept him in conversation, one morning, until he was just ready +to go up-stairs, and then, as if to continue the talk, followed him as he +toiled back to his room. He rested on the landing and faced round toward +me. There was something in his eye which said, Stop there! So we +finished our conversation on the landing. The next day, I mustered +assurance enough to knock at his door, having a pretext ready.--No +answer.--Knock again. A door, as if of a cabinet, was shut softly and +locked, and presently I heard the peculiar dead beat of his thick-soled, +misshapen boots. The bolts and the lock of the inner door were +unfastened,--with unnecessary noise, I thought,--and he came into the +passage. He pulled the inner door after him and opened the outer one at +which I stood. He had on a flowered silk dressing-gown, such as "Mr. +Copley" used to paint his old-fashioned merchant-princes in; and a +quaint-looking key in his hand. Our conversation was short, but long +enough to convince me that the Little Gentleman did not want my company +in his chamber, and did not mean to have it. + +I have been making a great fuss about what is no mystery at all,--a +schoolgirl's secrets and a whimsical man's habits. I mean to give up +such nonsense and mind my own business.--Hark! What the deuse is that +odd noise in his chamber? + +--I think I am a little superstitious. There were two things, when I was +a boy, that diabolized my imagination,--I mean, that gave me a distinct +apprehension of a formidable bodily shape which prowled round the +neighborhood where I was born and bred. The first was a series of marks +called the "Devil's footsteps." These were patches of sand in the +pastures, where no grass grew, where the low-bush blackberry, the +"dewberry," as our Southern neighbors call it, in prettier and more +Shakspearian language, did not spread its clinging creepers,--where even +the pale, dry, sadly-sweet "everlasting" could not grow, but all was bare +and blasted. The second was a mark in one of the public buildings near +my home,--the college dormitory named after a Colonial Governor. I do +not think many persons are aware of the existence of this mark,--little +having been said about the story in print, as it was considered very +desirable, for the sake of the Institution, to hush it up. In the +northwest corner, and on the level of the third or fourth story, there +are signs of a breach in the walls, mended pretty well, but not to be +mistaken. A considerable portion of that corner must have been carried +away, from within outward. It was an unpleasant affair; and I do not +care to repeat the particulars; but some young men had been using sacred +things in a profane and unlawful way, when the occurrence, which was +variously explained, took place. The story of the Appearance in the +chamber was, I suppose, invented afterwards; but of the injury to the +building there could be no question; and the zig-zag line, where the +mortar is a little thicker than before, is still distinctly visible. The +queer burnt spots, called the "Devil's footsteps," had never attracted +attention before this time, though there is no evidence that they had not +existed previously, except that of the late Miss M., a "Goody," so +called, or sweeper, who was positive on the subject, but had a strange +horror of referring to an affair of which she was thought to know +something.--I tell you it was not so pleasant for a little boy of +impressible nature to go up to bed in an old gambrel-roofed house, with +untenanted, locked upper-chambers, and a most ghostly garret,--with the +"Devil's footsteps" in the fields behind the house and in front of it the +patched dormitory where the unexplained occurrence had taken place which +startled those godless youths at their mock devotions, so that one of +them was epileptic from that day forward, and another, after a dreadful +season of mental conflict, took holy orders and became renowned for his +ascetic sanctity. + +There were other circumstances that kept up the impression produced by +these two singular facts I have just mentioned. There was a dark +storeroom, on looking through the key-hole of which, I could dimly see a +heap of chairs and tables, and other four-footed things, which seemed to +me to have rushed in there, frightened, and in their fright to have +huddled together and climbed up on each other's backs,--as the people did +in that awful crush where so many were killed, at the execution of +Holloway and Haggerty. Then the Lady's portrait, up-stairs, with the +sword-thrusts through it,--marks of the British officers' rapiers,--and +the tall mirror in which they used to look at their red coats,--confound +them for smashing its mate?--and the deep, cunningly wrought arm-chair in +which Lord Percy used to sit while his hair was dressing;--he was a +gentleman, and always had it covered with a large peignoir, to save the +silk covering my grandmother embroidered. Then the little room +downstairs from which went the orders to throw up a bank of earth on the +hill yonder, where you may now observe a granite obelisk,--"the study" in +my father's time, but in those days the council-chamber of armed +men,--sometimes filled with soldiers; come with me, and I will show you +the "dents" left by the butts of their muskets all over the floor. With +all these suggestive objects round me, aided by the wild stories those +awful country-boys that came to live in our service brought with +them;--of contracts written in blood and left out over night, not to be +found the next morning, (removed by the Evil One, who takes his nightly +round among our dwellings, and filed away for future use,)--of dreams +coming true,--of death-signs,--of apparitions, no wonder that my +imagination got excited, and I was liable to superstitious fancies. + +Jeremy Bentham's logic, by which he proved that he couldn't possibly see +a ghost is all very well-in the day-time. All the reason in the world +will never get those impressions of childhood, created by just such +circumstances as I have been telling, out of a man's head. That is the +only excuse I have to give for the nervous kind of curiosity with which I +watch my little neighbor, and the obstinacy with which I lie awake +whenever I hear anything going on in his chamber after midnight. + +But whatever further observations I may have made must be deferred for +the present. You will see in what way it happened that my thoughts were +turned from spiritual matters to bodily ones, and how I got my fancy full +of material images,--faces, heads, figures, muscles, and so forth,--in +such a way that I should have no chance in this number to gratify any +curiosity you may feel, if I had the means of so doing. + +Indeed, I have come pretty near omitting my periodical record this time. +It was all the work of a friend of mine, who would have it that I should +sit to him for my portrait. When a soul draws a body in the great +lottery of life, where every one is sure of a prize, such as it is, the +said soul inspects the said body with the same curious interest with +which one who has ventured into a "gift enterprise" examines the "massive +silver pencil-case" with the coppery smell and impressible tube, or the +"splendid gold ring" with the questionable specific gravity, which it has +been his fortune to obtain in addition to his purchase. + +The soul, having studied the article of which it finds itself proprietor, +thinks, after a time, it knows it pretty well. But there is this +difference between its view and that of a person looking at us:--we look +from within, and see nothing but the mould formed by the elements in +which we are incased; other observers look from without, and see us as +living statues. To be sure, by the aid of mirrors, we get a few glimpses +of our outside aspect; but this occasional impression is always modified +by that look of the soul from within outward which none but ourselves can +take. A portrait is apt, therefore, to be a surprise to us. The artist +looks only from without. He sees us, too, with a hundred aspects on our +faces we are never likely to see. No genuine expression can be studied +by the subject of it in the looking-glass. + +More than this; he sees us in a way in which many of our friends or +acquaintances never see us. Without wearing any mask we are conscious +of, we have a special face for each friend. For, in the first place, +each puts a special reflection of himself upon us, on the principle of +assimilation you found referred to in my last record, if you happened to +read that document. And secondly, each of our friends is capable of +seeing just so far, and no farther, into our face, and each sees in it +the particular thing that he looks for. Now the artist, if he is truly +an artist, does not take any one of these special views. Suppose he +should copy you as you appear to the man who wants your name to a +subscription-list, you could hardly expect a friend who entertains you to +recognize the likeness to the smiling face which sheds its radiance at +his board. Even within your own family, I am afraid there is a face which +the rich uncle knows, that is not so familiar to the poor relation. The +artist must take one or the other, or something compounded of the two, or +something different from either. What the daguerreotype and photograph +do is to give the features and one particular look, the very look which +kills all expression, that of self-consciousness. The artist throws you +off your guard, watches you in movement and in repose, puts your face +through its exercises, observes its transitions, and so gets the whole +range of its expression. Out of all this he forms an ideal portrait, +which is not a copy of your exact look at any one time or to any +particular person. Such a portrait cannot be to everybody what the +ungloved call "as nat'ral as life." Every good picture, therefore, must +be considered wanting in resemblance by many persons. + +There is one strange revelation which comes out, as the artist shapes +your features from his outline. It is that you resemble so many +relatives to whom you yourself never had noticed any particular likeness +in your countenance. + +He is at work at me now, when I catch some of these resemblances, thus: + +There! that is just the look my father used to have sometimes; I never +thought I had a sign of it. The mother's eyebrow and grayish-blue eye, +those I knew I had. But there is a something which recalls a smile that +faded away from my sister's lips--how many years ago! I thought it so +pleasant in her, that I love myself better for having a trace of it. + +Are we not young? Are we not fresh and blooming? Wait, a bit. The +artist takes a mean little brush and draws three fine lines, diverging +outwards from the eye over the temple. Five years.--The artist draws one +tolerably distinct and two faint lines, perpendicularly between the +eyebrows. Ten years.--The artist breaks up the contours round the mouth, +so that they look a little as a hat does that has been sat upon and +recovered itself, ready, as one would say, to crumple up again in the +same creases, on smiling or other change of feature.--Hold on! Stop +that! Give a young fellow a chance! Are we not whole years short of +that interesting period of life when Mr. Balzac says that a man, etc., +etc., etc.? + +There now! That is ourself, as we look after finishing an article, +getting a three-mile pull with the ten-foot sculls, redressing the wrongs +of the toilet, and standing with the light of hope in our eye and the +reflection of a red curtain on our cheek. Is he not a POET that painted +us? + + "Blest be the art that can immortalize!" + COWPER. + +--Young folks look on a face as a unit; children who go to school with +any given little John Smith see in his name a distinctive appellation, +and in his features as special and definite an expression of his sole +individuality as if he were the first created of his race: As soon as we +are old enough to get the range of three or four generations well in +hand, and to take in large family histories, we never see an individual +in a face of any stock we know, but a mosaic copy of a pattern, with +fragmentary tints from this and that ancestor. The analysis of a face +into its ancestral elements requires that it should be examined in the +very earliest infancy, before it has lost that ancient and solemn look it +brings with it out of the past eternity; and again in that brief space +when Life, the mighty sculptor, has done his work, and Death, his silent +servant, lifts the veil and lets us look at the marble lines he has +wrought so faithfully; and lastly, while a painter who can seize all the +traits of a countenance is building it up, feature after feature, from +the slight outline to the finished portrait. + +--I am satisfied, that, as we grow older, we learn to look upon our +bodies more and more as a temporary possession and less and less as +identified with ourselves. In early years, while the child "feels its +life in every limb," it lives in the body and for the body to a very +great extent. It ought to be so. There have been many very interesting +children who have shown a wonderful indifference to the things of earth +and an extraordinary development of the spiritual nature. There is a +perfect literature of their biographies, all alike in their essentials; +the same "disinclination to the usual amusements of childhood "; the same +remarkable sensibility; the same docility; the same conscientiousness; in +short, an almost uniform character, marked by beautiful traits, which we +look at with a painful admiration. It will be found that most of these +children are the subjects of some constitutional unfitness for living, +the most frequent of which I need not mention. They are like the +beautiful, blushing, half-grown fruit that falls before its time because +its core is gnawed out. They have their meaning,--they do not-live in +vain,--but they are windfalls. I am convinced that many healthy children +are injured morally by being forced to read too much about these little +meek sufferers and their spiritual exercises. Here is a boy that loves +to run, swim, kick football, turn somersets, make faces, whittle, fish, +tear his clothes, coast, skate, fire crackers, blow squash "tooters," cut +his name on fences, read about Robinson Crusoe and Sinbad the Sailor, eat +the widest-angled slices of pie and untold cakes and candies, crack nuts +with his back teeth and bite out the better part of another boy's apple +with his front ones, turn up coppers, "stick" knives, call names, throw +stones, knock off hats, set mousetraps, chalk doorsteps, "cut behind" +anything on wheels or runners, whistle through his teeth, "holler" Fire! +on slight evidence, run after soldiers, patronize an engine-company, or, +in his own words, "blow for tub No. 11," or whatever it may be;--isn't +that a pretty nice sort of a boy, though he has not got anything the +matter with him that takes the taste of this world out? Now, when you +put into such a hot-blooded, hard-fisted, round-cheeked little rogue's +hand a sad-looking volume or pamphlet, with the portrait of a thin, +white-faced child, whose life is really as much a training for death as +the last month of a condemned criminal's existence, what does he find in +common between his own overflowing and exulting sense of vitality and the +experiences of the doomed offspring of invalid parents? The time comes +when we have learned to understand the music of sorrow, the beauty of +resigned suffering, the holy light that plays over the pillow of those +who die before their time, in humble hope and trust. But it is not until +he has worked his way through the period of honest hearty animal +existence, which every robust child should make the most of,--not until +he has learned the use of his various faculties, which is his first +duty,--that a boy of courage and animal vigor is in a proper state to +read these tearful records of premature decay. I have no doubt that +disgust is implanted in the minds of many healthy children by early +surfeits of pathological piety. I do verily believe that He who took +children in His arms and blessed them loved the healthiest and most +playful of them just as well as those who were richest in the tuberculous +virtues. I know what I am talking about, and there are more parents in +this country who will be willing to listen to what I say than there are +fools to pick a quarrel with me. In the sensibility and the sanctity +which often accompany premature decay I see one of the most beautiful +instances of the principle of compensation which marks the Divine +benevolence. But to get the spiritual hygiene of robust natures out of +the exceptional regimen of invalids is just simply what we Professors +call "bad practice"; and I know by experience that there are worthy +people who not only try it on their own children, but actually force it +on those of their neighbors. + +--Having been photographed, and stereographed, and chromatographed, or +done in colors, it only remained to be phrenologized. A polite note from +Messrs. Bumpus and Crane, requesting our attendance at their +Physiological Emporium, was too tempting to be resisted. We repaired to +that scientific Golgotha. + +Messrs. Bumpus and Crane are arranged on the plan of the man and the +woman in the toy called a "weather-house," both on the same wooden arm +suspended on a pivot,--so that when one comes to the door, the other +retires backwards, and vice versa. The more particular speciality of one +is to lubricate your entrance and exit,--that of the other to polish you +off phrenologically in the recesses of the establishment. Suppose +yourself in a room full of casts and pictures, before a counterful of +books with taking titles. I wonder if the picture of the brain is there, +"approved" by a noted Phrenologist, which was copied from my, the +Professor's, folio plate, in the work of Gall and Spurzheim. An extra +convolution, No. 9, Destructiveness, according to the list beneath, which +was not to be seen in the plate, itself a copy of Nature, was very +liberally supplied by the artist, to meet the wants of the catalogue of +"organs." Professor Bumpus is seated in front of a row of women, +--horn-combers and gold-beaders, or somewhere about that range of +life,--looking so credulous, that, if any Second-Advent Miller or Joe +Smith should come along, he could string the whole lot of them on his +cheapest lie, as a boy strings a dozen "shiners" on a stripped twig of +willow. + +The Professor (meaning ourselves) is in a hurry, as usual; let the +horn-combers wait,--he shall be bumped without inspecting the +antechamber. + +Tape round the head,--22 inches. (Come on, old 23 inches, if you think +you are the better man!) + +Feels thorax and arm, and nuzzles round among muscles as those horrid old +women poke their fingers into the salt-meat on the provision-stalls at +the Quincy Market. Vitality, No. 5 or 6, or something or other. +Victuality, (organ at epigastrium,) some other number equally +significant. + +Mild champooing of head now commences. 'Extraordinary revelations! +Cupidiphilous, 6! Hymeniphilous, 6 +! Paediphilous, 5! Deipniphilous, +6! Gelasmiphilous, 6! Musikiphilous, 5! Uraniphilous, 5! +Glossiphilous, 8!! and so on. Meant for a linguist.--Invaluable +information. Will invest in grammars and dictionaries immediately.--I +have nothing against the grand total of my phrenological endowments. + +I never set great store by my head, and did not think Messrs. Bumpus and +Crane would give me so good a lot of organs as they did, especially +considering that I was a dead-head on that occasion. Much obliged to them +for their politeness. They have been useful in their way by calling +attention to important physiological facts. (This concession is due to +our immense bump of Candor.) + +A short Lecture on Phrenology, read to the Boarders at our +Breakfast-Table. + +I shall begin, my friends, with the definition of a Pseudo-science. A +Pseudo-science consists of a nomenclature, with a self-adjusting +arrangement, by which all positive evidence, or such as favors its +doctrines, is admitted, and all negative evidence, or such as tells +against it, is excluded. It is invariably connected with some lucrative +practical application. Its professors and practitioners are usually +shrewd people; they are very serious with the public, but wink and laugh +a good deal among themselves. The believing multitude consists of women +of both sexes, feeble minded inquirers, poetical optimists, people who +always get cheated in buying horses, philanthropists who insist on +hurrying up the millennium, and others of this class, with here and there +a clergyman, less frequently a lawyer, very rarely a physician, and +almost never a horse-jockey or a member of the detective police.--I do +not say that Phrenology was one of the Pseudo-sciences. + +A Pseudo-science does not necessarily consist wholly of lies. It may +contain many truths, and even valuable ones. The rottenest bank starts +with a little specie. It puts out a thousand promises to pay on the +strength of a single dollar, but the dollar is very commonly a good one. +The practitioners of the Pseudo-sciences know that common minds, after +they have been baited with a real fact or two, will jump at the merest +rag of a lie, or even at the bare hook. When we have one fact found us, +we are very apt to supply the next out of our own imagination. (How many +persons can read Judges xv. 16 correctly the first time?) The +Pseudo-sciences take advantage of this.--I did not say that it was so +with Phrenology. + +I have rarely met a sensible man who would not allow that there was +something in Phrenology. A broad, high forehead, it is commonly agreed, +promises intellect; one that is "villanous low" and has a huge hind-head +back of it, is wont to mark an animal nature. I have as rarely met an +unbiassed and sensible man who really believed in the bumps. It is +observed, however, that persons with what the Phrenologists call "good +heads" are more prone than others toward plenary belief in the doctrine. + +It is so hard to prove a negative, that, if a man should assert that the +moon was in truth a green cheese, formed by the coagulable substance of +the Milky Way, and challenge me to prove the contrary, I might be +puzzled. But if he offer to sell me a ton of this lunar cheese, I call +on him to prove the truth of the Gaseous nature of our satellite, before +I purchase. + +It is not necessary to prove the falsity of the phrenological statement. +It is only necessary to show that its truth is not proved, and cannot be, +by the common course of argument. The walls of the head are double, with +a great air-chamber between them, over the smallest and most closely +crowded "organs." Can you tell how much money there is in a safe, which +also has thick double walls, by kneading its knobs with your fingers? So +when a man fumbles about my forehead, and talks about the organs of +Individuality, Size, etc., I trust him as much as I should if he felt of +the outside of my strong-box and told me that there was a five-dollar or +a ten-dollar-bill under this or that particular rivet. Perhaps there is; +only he does n't know anything about at. But this is a point that I, the +Professor, understand, my friends, or ought to, certainly, better than +you do. The next argument you will all appreciate. + +I proceed, therefore, to explain the self-adjusting mechanism of +Phrenology, which is very similar to that of the Pseudo-sciences. An +example will show it most conveniently. + +A. is a notorious thief. Messrs. Bumpus and Crane examine him and find a +good-sized organ of Acquisitiveness. Positive fact for Phrenology. +Casts and drawings of A. are multiplied, and the bump does not lose in +the act of copying.--I did not say it gained.--What do you look so for? +(to the boarders.) + +Presently B. turns up, a bigger thief than A. But B. has no bump at all +over Acquisitiveness. Negative fact; goes against Phrenology.--Not a +bit of it. Don't you see how small Conscientiousness is? That's the +reason B. stole. + +And then comes C., ten times as much a thief as either A. or B.,--used +to steal before he was weaned, and would pick one of his own pockets and +put its contents in another, if he could find no other way of committing +petty larceny. Unfortunately, C. has a hollow, instead of a bump, over +Acquisitiveness. Ah, but just look and see what a bump of +Alimentiveness! Did not C. buy nuts and gingerbread, when a boy, with +the money he stole? Of course you see why he is a thief, and how his +example confirms our noble science. + +At last comes along a case which is apparently a settler, for there is a +little brain with vast and varied powers,--a case like that of Byron, for +instance. Then comes out the grand reserve-reason which covers +everything and renders it simply impossible ever to corner a +Phrenologist. "It is not the size alone, but the quality of an organ, +which determines its degree of power." + +Oh! oh! I see.--The argument may be briefly stated thus by the +Phrenologist: "Heads I win, tails you lose." Well, that's convenient. + +It must be confessed that Phrenology has a certain resemblance to the +Pseudo-sciences. I did not say it was a Pseudo-science. + +I have often met persons who have been altogether struck up and amazed at +the accuracy with which some wandering Professor of Phrenology had read +their characters written upon their skulls. Of course the Professor +acquires his information solely through his cranial inspections and +manipulations.--What are you laughing at? (to the boarders.)--But let us +just suppose, for a moment, that a tolerably cunning fellow, who did not +know or care anything about Phrenology, should open a shop and undertake +to read off people's characters at fifty cents or a dollar apiece. Let +us see how well he could get along without the "organs." + +I will suppose myself to set up such a shop. I would invest one hundred +dollars, more or less, in casts of brains, skulls, charts, and other +matters that would make the most show for the money. That would do to +begin with. I would then advertise myself as the celebrated Professor +Brainey, or whatever name I might choose, and wait for my first customer. +My first customer is a middle-aged man. I look at him,--ask him a +question or two, so as to hear him talk. When I have got the hang of him, +I ask him to sit down, and proceed to fumble his skull, dictating as +follows: SCALE FROM 1 TO 10. + + +LIST OF FACULTIES FOR PRIVATE NOTES FOR MY PUPIL. + CUSTOMER. + Each to be accompanied with a wink. + +Amativeness, 7. Most men love the conflicting sex, and all + men love to be told they do. + +Alimentiveness, 8. Don't you see that he has burst off his + lowest waistcoat-button with feeding,--hey + +Acquisitiveness, 8. Of course. A middle-aged Yankee. + +Approbativeness 7+. Hat well brushed. Hair ditto. Mark the + effect of that plus sign. + +Self-Esteem 6. His face shows that. + +Benevolence 9. That'll please him. + +Conscientiousness 8 1/2 That fraction looks first-rate. + +Mirthfulness 7 Has laughed twice since he came in. + +Ideality 9 That sounds well. + +Form, Size, Weight, 4 to 6. Average everything that Color, Locality, + cannot be guessed. Eventuality, etc. etc. + + And so of the other faculties. + + +Of course, you know, that isn't the way the Phrenologists do. They go +only by the bumps.--What do you keep laughing so for? (to the boarders.) +I only said that is the way I should practise "Phrenology" for a living. + + End of my Lecture. + + +--The Reformers have good heads, generally. Their faces are commonly +serene enough, and they are lambs in private intercourse, even though +their voices may be like + + The wolf's long howl from Oonalaska's shore, + +when heard from the platform. Their greatest spiritual danger is from +the perpetual flattery of abuse to which they are exposed. These lines +are meant to caution them. + + + SAINT ANTHONY THE REFORMER. + + HIS TEMPTATION. + + No fear lest praise should make us proud! + We know how cheaply that is won; + The idle homage of the crowd + Is proof of tasks as idly done. + + A surface-smile may pay the toil + That follows still the conquering Right, + With soft, white hands to dress the spoil + That sunbrowned valor clutched in fight. + + Sing the sweet song of other days, + Serenely placid, safely true, + And o'er the present's parching ways + Thy verse distils like evening dew. + + But speak in words of living power, + --They fall like drops of scalding rain + That plashed before the burning shower + Swept o'er the cities of the plain! + + Then scowling Hate turns deadly pale, + --Then Passion's half-coiled adders spring, + And, smitten through their leprous mail, + Strike right and left in hope to sting. + + If thou, unmoved by poisoning wrath, + Thy feet on earth, thy heart above, + Canst walk in peace thy kingly path, + Unchanged in trust, unchilled in love,-- + + Too kind for bitter words to grieve, + Too firm for clamor to dismay, + When Faith forbids thee to believe, + And Meekness calls to disobey,-- + + Ah, then beware of mortal pride! + The smiling pride that calmly scorns + Those foolish fingers, crimson dyed + In laboring on thy crown of thorns! + + + + +IX + +One of our boarders--perhaps more than one was concerned in it--sent in +some questions to me, the other day, which, trivial as some of them are, +I felt bound to answer. + +1.--Whether a lady was ever known to write a letter covering only a +single page? + +To this I answered, that there was a case on record where a lady had but +half a sheet of paper and no envelope; and being obliged to send through +the post-office, she covered only one side of the paper (crosswise, +lengthwise, and diagonally). + +2.--What constitutes a man a gentleman? + +To this I gave several answers, adapted to particular classes of +questioners. + +a. Not trying to be a gentleman. + +b. Self-respect underlying courtesy. + +c. Knowledge and observance of the fitness of things in social +intercourse. + +d. f. s. d. (as many suppose.) + +3.--Whether face or figure is most attractive in the female sex? + +Answered in the following epigram, by a young man about town: + + Quoth Tom, "Though fair her features be, + It is her figure pleases me." + "What may her figure be?" I cried. + "One hundred thousand!" he replied. + +When this was read to the boarders, the young man John said he should +like a chance to "step up" to a figger of that kind, if the girl was one +of the right sort. + +The landlady said them that merried for money didn't deserve the blessin' +of a good wife. Money was a great thing when them that had it made a +good use of it. She had seen better days herself, and knew what it was +never to want for anything. One of her cousins merried a very rich old +gentleman, and she had heerd that he said he lived ten year longer than +if he'd staid by himself without anybody to take care of him. There was +nothin' like a wife for nussin' sick folks and them that couldn't take +care of themselves. + +The young man John got off a little wink, and pointed slyly with his +thumb in the direction of our diminutive friend, for whom he seemed to +think this speech was intended. + +If it was meant for him, he did n't appear to know that it was. Indeed, +he seems somewhat listless of late, except when the conversation falls +upon one of those larger topics that specially interest him, and then he +grows excited, speaks loud and fast, sometimes almost savagely,--and, I +have noticed once or twice, presses his left hand to his right side, as +if there were something that ached, or weighed, or throbbed in that +region. + +While he speaks in this way, the general conversation is interrupted, and +we all listen to him. Iris looks steadily in his face, and then he will +turn as if magnetized and meet the amber eyes with his own melancholy +gaze. I do believe that they have some kind of understanding together, +that they meet elsewhere than at our table, and that there is a mystery, +which is going to break upon us all of a sudden, involving the relations +of these two persons. From the very first, they have taken to each +other. The one thing they have in common is the heroic will. In him, it +shows itself in thinking his way straightforward, in doing battle for +"free trade and no right of search" on the high seas of religious +controversy, and especially in fighting the battles of his crooked old +city. In her, it is standing up for her little friend with the most +queenly disregard of the code of boarding-house etiquette. People may +say or look what they like,--she will have her way about this sentiment +of hers. + +The Poor Relation is in a dreadful fidget whenever the Little Gentleman +says anything that interferes with her own infallibility. She seems to +think Faith must go with her face tied up, as if she had the +toothache,--and that if she opens her mouth to the quarter the wind blows +from, she will catch her "death o' cold." + +The landlady herself came to him one day, as I have found out, and tried +to persuade him to hold his tongue.--The boarders was gettin' +uneasy,--she said,--and some of 'em would go, she mistrusted, if he +talked any more about things that belonged to the ministers to settle. +She was a poor woman, that had known better days, but all her livin' +depended on her boarders, and she was sure there was n't any of 'em she +set so much by as she did by him; but there was them that never liked to +hear about sech things, except on Sundays. + +The Little Gentleman looked very smiling at the landlady, who smiled even +more cordially in return, and adjusted her cap-ribbon with an unconscious +movement,--a reminiscence of the long-past pairing-time, when she had +smoothed her locks and softened her voice, and won her mate by these and +other bird-like graces.--My dear Madam,--he said,--I will remember your +interests, and speak only of matters to which I am totally +indifferent.--I don't doubt he meant this; but a day or two after, +something stirred him up, and I heard his voice uttering itself aloud, +thus: + +-It must be done, Sir!--he was saying,--it must be done! Our religion +has been Judaized, it has been Romanized, it has been Orientalized, it +has been Anglicized, and the time is at hand when it must be +AMERICANIZED! Now, Sir, you see what Americanizing is in politics;--it +means that a man shall have a vote because he is a man,--and shall vote +for whom he pleases, without his neighbor's interference. If he chooses +to vote for the Devil, that is his lookout;--perhaps he thinks the Devil +is better than the other candidates; and I don't doubt he's often right, +Sir. Just so a man's soul has a vote in the spiritual community; and it +doesn't do, Sir, or it won't do long, to call him "schismatic" and +"heretic" and those other wicked names that the old murderous Inquisitors +have left us to help along "peace and goodwill to men"! + +As long as you could catch a man and drop him into an oubliette, or pull +him out a few inches longer by machinery, or put a hot iron through his +tongue, or make him climb up a ladder and sit on a board at the top of a +stake so that he should be slowly broiled by the fire kindled round it, +there was some sense in these words; they led to something. But since we +have done with those tools, we had better give up those words. I should +like to see a Yankee advertisement like this!--(the Little Gentleman +laughed fiercely as he uttered the words,--) + +--Patent thumb-screws,--will crush the bone in three turns. + +--The cast-iron boot, with wedge and mallet, only five dollars! + +--The celebrated extension-rack, warranted to stretch a man six inches in +twenty minutes,--money returned, if it proves unsatisfactory. + +I should like to see such an advertisement, I say, Sir! Now, what's the +use of using the words that belonged with the thumb-screws, and the +Blessed Virgin with the knives under her petticoats and sleeves and +bodice, and the dry pan and gradual fire, if we can't have the things +themselves, Sir? What's the use of painting the fire round a poor +fellow, when you think it won't do to kindle one under him,--as they did +at Valencia or Valladolid, or wherever it was? + +--What story is that?--I said. + +Why,--he answered,--at the last auto-da-fe, in 1824 or '5, or somewhere +there,--it's a traveller's story, but a mighty knowing traveller he +is,--they had a "heretic" to use up according to the statutes provided +for the crime of private opinion. They could n't quite make up their +minds to burn him, so they only hung him in a hogshead painted all over +with flames! + +No, Sir! when a man calls you names because you go to the ballot-box and +vote for your candidate, or because you say this or that is your opinion, +he forgets in which half of the world he was born, Sir! It won't be +long, Sir, before we have Americanized religion as we have Americanized +government; and then, Sir, every soul God sends into the world will be +good in the face of all men for just so much of His "inspiration" as +"giveth him understanding"!--None of my words, Sir! none of my words! + +--If Iris does not love this Little Gentleman, what does love look like +when one sees it? She follows him with her eyes, she leans over toward +him when he speaks, her face changes with the changes of his speech, so +that one might think it was with her as with Christabel,-- + + That all her features were resigned + To this sole image in her mind. + +But she never looks at him with such intensity of devotion as when he +says anything about the soul and the soul's atmosphere, religion. + +Women are twice as religious as men;--all the world knows that. Whether +they are any better, in the eyes of Absolute Justice, might be +questioned; for the additional religious element supplied by sex hardly +seems to be a matter of praise or blame. But in all common aspects they +are so much above us that we get most of our religion from them,--from +their teachings, from their example,--above all, from their pure +affections. + +Now this poor little Iris had been talked to strangely in her childhood. +Especially she had been told that she hated all good things,--which every +sensible parent knows well enough is not true of a great many children, +to say the least. I have sometimes questioned whether many libels on +human nature had not been a natural consequence of the celibacy of the +clergy, which was enforced for so long a period. + +The child had met this and some other equally encouraging statements as +to her spiritual conditions, early in life, and fought the battle of +spiritual independence prematurely, as many children do. If all she did +was hateful to God, what was the meaning of the approving or else the +disapproving conscience, when she had done "right" or "wrong"? No +"shoulder-striker" hits out straighter than a child with its logic. Why, +I can remember lying in my bed in the nursery and settling questions +which all that I have heard since and got out of books has never been +able to raise again. If a child does not assert itself in this way in +good season, it becomes just what its parents or teachers were, and is no +better than a plastic image.--How old was I at the time?--I suppose +about 5823 years old,--that is, counting from Archbishop Usher's date of +the Creation, and adding the life of the race, whose accumulated +intelligence is a part of my inheritance, to my own. A good deal older +than Plato, you see, and much more experienced than my Lord Bacon and +most of the world's teachers.--Old books, as you well know, are books of +the world's youth, and new books are fruits of its age. How many of all +these ancient folios round me are like so many old cupels! The gold has +passed out of them long ago, but their pores are full of the dross with +which it was mingled. + +And so Iris--having thrown off that first lasso which not only fetters, +but chokes those whom it can hold, so that they give themselves up +trembling and breathless to the great soul-subduer, who has them by the +windpipe had settled a brief creed for herself, in which love of the +neighbor, whom we have seen, was the first article, and love of the +Creator, whom we have not seen, grew out of this as its natural +development, being necessarily second in order of time to the first +unselfish emotions which we feel for the fellow-creatures who surround us +in our early years. + +The child must have some place of worship. What would a young girl be +who never mingled her voice with the songs and prayers that rose all +around her with every returning day of rest? And Iris was free to +choose. Sometimes one and sometimes another would offer to carry her to +this or that place of worship; and when the doors were hospitably opened, +she would often go meekly in by herself. It was a curious fact, that two +churches as remote from each other in doctrine as could well be divided +her affections. + +The Church of Saint Polycarp had very much the look of a Roman Catholic +chapel. I do not wish to run the risk of giving names to the +ecclesiastical furniture which gave it such a Romish aspect; but there +were pictures, and inscriptions in antiquated characters, and there were +reading-stands, and flowers on the altar, and other elegant arrangements. +Then there were boys to sing alternately in choirs responsive to each +other, and there was much bowing, with very loud responding, and a long +service and a short sermon, and a bag, such as Judas used to hold in the +old pictures, was carried round to receive contributions. Everything was +done not only "decently and in order," but, perhaps one might say, with a +certain air of magnifying their office on the part of the dignified +clergymen, often two or three in number. The music and the free welcome +were grateful to Iris, and she forgot her prejudices at the door of the +chapel. For this was a church with open doors, with seats for all +classes and all colors alike,--a church of zealous worshippers after +their faith, of charitable and serviceable men and women, one that took +care of its children and never forgot its poor, and whose people were +much more occupied in looking out for their own souls than in attacking +the faith of their neighbors. In its mode of worship there was a union +of two qualities,--the taste and refinement, which the educated require +just as much in their churches as elsewhere, and the air of stateliness, +almost of pomp, which impresses the common worshipper, and is often not +without its effect upon those who think they hold outward forms as of +little value. Under the half-Romish aspect of the Church of Saint +Polycarp, the young girl found a devout and loving and singularly +cheerful religious spirit. The artistic sense, which betrayed itself in +the dramatic proprieties of its ritual, harmonized with her taste. The +mingled murmur of the loud responses, in those rhythmic phrases, so +simple, yet so fervent, almost as if every tenth heart-beat, instead of +its dull tic-tac, articulated itself as "Good Lord, deliver us! "--the +sweet alternation of the two choirs, as their holy song floated from side +to side, the keen young voices rising like a flight of singing-birds that +passes from one grove to another, carrying its music with it back and +forward,--why should she not love these gracious outward signs of those +inner harmonies which none could deny made beautiful the lives of many of +her fellow-worshippers in the humble, yet not inelegant Chapel of Saint +Polycarp? + +The young Marylander, who was born and bred to that mode of worship, had +introduced her to the chapel, for which he did the honors for such of our +boarders as were not otherwise provided for. I saw them looking over the +same prayer-book one Sunday, and I could not help thinking that two such +young and handsome persons could hardly worship together in safety for a +great while. But they seemed to mind nothing but their prayer-book. +By-and-by the silken bag was handed round.--I don't believe she will; so +awkward, you know;--besides, she only came by invitation. There she is, +with her hand in her pocket, though,--and sure enough, her little bit of +silver tinkled as it struck the coin beneath. God bless her! she has n't +much to give; but her eye glistens when she gives it, and that is all +Heaven asks.--That was the first time I noticed these young people +together, and I am sure they behaved with the most charming +propriety,--in fact, there was one of our silent lady-boarders with them, +whose eyes would have kept Cupid and Psyche to their good behavior. A +day or two after this I noticed that the young gentleman had left his +seat, which you may remember was at the corner diagonal to that of Iris, +so that they have been as far removed from each other as they could be at +the table. His new seat is three or four places farther down the table. +Of course I made a romance out of this, at once. So stupid not to see +it! How could it be otherwise?--Did you speak, Madam? I beg your +pardon. (To my lady-reader.) + +I never saw anything like the tenderness with which this young girl +treats her little deformed neighbor. If he were in the way of going to +church, I know she would follow him. But his worship, if any, is not +with the throng of men and women and staring children. + +I, the Professor, on the other hand, am a regular church-goer. I should +go for various reasons if I did not love it; but I am happy enough to +find great pleasure in the midst of devout multitudes, whether I can +accept all their creeds or not. One place of worship comes nearer than +the rest to my ideal standard, and to this it was that I carried our +young girl. + +The Church of the Galileans, as it is called, is even humbler in outside +pretensions than the Church of Saint Polycarp. Like that, it is open to +all comers. The stranger who approaches it looks down a quiet street and +sees the plainest of chapels,--a kind of wooden tent, that owes whatever +grace it has to its pointed windows and the high, sharp roofs--traces, +both, of that upward movement of ecclesiastical architecture which soared +aloft in cathedral-spires, shooting into the sky as the spike of a +flowering aloe from the cluster of broad, sharp-wedged leaves below. +This suggestion of medieval symbolism, aided by a minute turret in which +a hand-bell might have hung and found just room enough to turn over, was +all of outward show the small edifice could boast. Within there was very +little that pretended to be attractive. A small organ at one side, and a +plain pulpit, showed that the building was a church; but it was a church +reduced to its simplest expression: + +Yet when the great and wise monarch of the East sat upon his throne, in +all the golden blaze of the spoils of Ophir and the freights of the navy +of Tarshish, his glory was not like that of this simple chapel in its +Sunday garniture. For the lilies of the field, in their season, and the +fairest flowers of the year, in due succession, were clustered every +Sunday morning over the preacher's desk. Slight, thin-tissued blossoms +of pink and blue and virgin white in early spring, then the full-breasted +and deep-hearted roses of summer, then the velvet-robed crimson and +yellow flowers of autumn, and in the winter delicate exotics that grew +under skies of glass in the false summers of our crystal palaces without +knowing that it was the dreadful winter of New England which was rattling +the doors and frosting the panes,--in their language the whole year told +its history of life and growth and beauty from that simple desk. There +was always at least one good sermon,--this floral homily. There was at +least one good prayer,--that brief space when all were silent, after the +manner of the Friends at their devotions. + +Here, too, Iris found an atmosphere of peace and love. The same gentle, +thoughtful faces, the same cheerful but reverential spirit, the same +quiet, the same life of active benevolence. But in all else how +different from the Church of Saint Polycarp! No clerical costume, no +ceremonial forms, no carefully trained choirs. A liturgy they have, to +be sure, which does not scruple to borrow from the time-honored manuals +of devotion, but also does not hesitate to change its expressions to its +own liking. + +Perhaps the good people seem a little easy with each other;--they are apt +to nod familiarly, and have even been known to whisper before the +minister came in. But it is a relief to get rid of that old +Sunday--no,--Sabbath face, which suggests the idea that the first day of +the week is commemorative of some most mournful event. The truth is, +these brethren and sisters meet very much as a family does for its +devotions, not putting off their humanity in the least, considering it on +the whole quite a delightful matter to come together for prayer and song +and good counsel from kind and wise lips. And if they are freer in their +demeanor than some very precise congregations, they have not the air of a +worldly set of people. Clearly they have not come to advertise their +tailors and milliners, nor for the sake of exchanging criticisms on the +literary character of the sermon they may hear. There is no +restlessness and no restraint among these quiet, cheerful worshippers. +One thing that keeps them calm and happy during the season so evidently +trying to many congregations is, that they join very generally in the +singing. In this way they get rid of that accumulated nervous force +which escapes in all sorts of fidgety movements, so that a minister +trying to keep his congregation still reminds one of a boy with his hand +over the nose of a pump which another boy is working,--this spirting +impatience of the people is so like the jets that find their way through +his fingers, and the grand rush out at the final Amen! has such a +wonderful likeness to the gush that takes place when the boy pulls his +hand away, with immense relief, as it seems, to both the pump and the +officiating youngster. + +How sweet is this blending of all voices and all hearts in one common +song of praise! Some will sing a little loud, perhaps,--and now and then +an impatient chorister will get a syllable or two in advance, or an +enchanted singer so lose all thought of time and place in the luxury of a +closing cadence that he holds on to the last semi-breve upon his private +responsibility; but how much more of the spirit of the old Psalmist in +the music of these imperfectly trained voices than in the academic +niceties of the paid performers who take our musical worship out of our +hands! + +I am of the opinion that the creed of the Church of the Galileans is not +laid down in as many details as that of the Church of Saint Polycarp. +Yet I suspect, if one of the good people from each of those churches had +met over the bed of a suffering fellow-creature, or for the promotion of +any charitable object, they would have found they had more in common than +all the special beliefs or want of beliefs that separated them would +amount to. There are always many who believe that the fruits of a tree +afford a better test of its condition than a statement of the composts +with which it is dressed, though the last has its meaning and importance, +no doubt. + +Between these two churches, then, our young Iris divides her affections. +But I doubt if she listens to the preacher at either with more devotion +than she does to her little neighbor when he talks of these matters. + +What does he believe? In the first place, there is some deep-rooted +disquiet lying at the bottom of his soul, which makes him very bitter +against all kinds of usurpation over the right of private judgment. Over +this seems to lie a certain tenderness for humanity in general, bred out +of life-long trial, I should say, but sharply streaked with fiery lines +of wrath at various individual acts of wrong, especially if they come in +an ecclesiastical shape, and recall to him the days when his mother's +great-grandmother was strangled on Witch Hill, with a text from the Old +Testament for her halter. With all this, he has a boundless belief in +the future of this experimental hemisphere, and especially in the destiny +of the free thought of its northeastern metropolis. + +--A man can see further, Sir,--he said one day,--from the top of Boston +State House, and see more that is worth seeing, than from all the +pyramids and turrets and steeples in all the places in the world! No +smoke, Sir; no fog, Sir; and a clean sweep from the Outer Light and the +sea beyond it to the New Hampshire mountains! Yes, Sir,--and there are +great truths that are higher than mountains and broader than seas, that +people are looking for from the tops of these hills of ours;--such as the +world never saw, though it might have seen them at Jerusalem, if its eyes +had been open!--Where do they have most crazy people? Tell me that, Sir! + +I answered, that I had heard it said there were more in New England than +in most countries, perhaps more than in any part of the world. + +Very good, Sir,--he answered.--When have there been most people killed +and wounded in the course of this century? + +During the wars of the French Empire, no doubt,--I said. + +That's it! that's it!--said the Little Gentleman;--where the battle of +intelligence is fought, there are most minds bruised and broken! We're +battling for a faith here, Sir. + +The divinity-student remarked, that it was rather late in the world's +history for men to be looking out for a new faith. + +I did n't say a new faith,--said the Little Gentleman;--old or new, it +can't help being different here in this American mind of ours from +anything that ever was before; the people are new, Sir, and that makes +the difference. One load of corn goes to the sty, and makes the fat of +swine,--another goes to the farm-house, and becomes the muscle that +clothes the right arms of heroes. It is n't where a pawn stands on the +board that makes the difference, but what the game round it is when it is +on this or that square. + +Can any man look round and see what Christian countries are now doing, +and how they are governed, and what is the general condition of society, +without seeing that Christianity is the flag under which the world sails, +and not the rudder that steers its course? No, Sir! There was a great +raft built about two thousand years ago,--call it an ark, rather,--the +world's great ark! big enough to hold all mankind, and made to be +launched right out into the open waves of life,--and here it has been +lying, one end on the shore and one end bobbing up and down in the water, +men fighting all the time as to who should be captain and who should have +the state-rooms, and throwing each other over the side because they could +not agree about the points of compass, but the great vessel never getting +afloat with its freight of nations and their rulers;--and now, Sir, there +is and has been for this long time a fleet of "heretic" lighters sailing +out of Boston Bay, and they have been saying, and they say now, and they +mean to keep saying, "Pump out your bilge-water, shovel over your loads +of idle ballast, get out your old rotten cargo, and we will carry it out +into deep waters and sink it where it will never be seen again; so shall +the ark of the world's hope float on the ocean, instead of sticking in +the dock-mud where it is lying!" + +It's a slow business, this of getting the ark launched. The Jordan was +n't deep enough, and the Tiber was n't deep enough, and the Rhone was n't +deep enough, and the Thames was n't deep enough, and perhaps the Charles +is n't deep enough; but I don't feel sure of that, Sir, and I love to +hear the workmen knocking at the old blocks of tradition and making the +ways smooth with the oil of the Good Samaritan. I don't know, Sir,--but +I do think she stirs a little,--I do believe she slides;--and when I +think of what a work that is for the dear old three-breasted mother of +American liberty, I would not take all the glory of all the greatest +cities in the world for my birthright in the soil of little Boston! + +--Some of us could not help smiling at this burst of local patriotism, +especially when it finished with the last two words. + +And Iris smiled, too. But it was the radiant smile of pleasure which +always lights up her face when her little neighbor gets excited on the +great topics of progress in freedom and religion, and especially on the +part which, as he pleases himself with believing, his own city is to take +in that consummation of human development to which he looks forward. + +Presently she looked into his face with a changed expression,--the +anxiety of a mother that sees her child suffering. + +You are not well,--she said. + +I am never well,--he answered.--His eyes fell mechanically on the +death's-head ring he wore on his right hand. She took his hand as if it +had been a baby's, and turned the grim device so that it should be out of +sight. One slight, sad, slow movement of the head seemed to say, "The +death-symbol is still there!" + +A very odd personage, to be sure! Seems to know what is going on, +--reads books, old and new,--has many recent publications sent him, they +tell me, but, what is more curious, keeps up with the everyday affairs of +the world, too. Whether he hears everything that is said with +preternatural acuteness, or whether some confidential friend visits him +in a quiet way, is more than I can tell. I can make nothing more of the +noises I hear in his room than my old conjectures. The movements I +mention are less frequent, but I often hear the plaintive cry,--I observe +that it is rarely laughing of late;--I never have detected one articulate +word, but I never heard such tones from anything but a human voice. + +There has been, of late, a deference approaching to tenderness, on the +part of the boarders generally so far as he is concerned. This is +doubtless owing to the air of suffering which seems to have saddened his +look of late. Either some passion is gnawing at him inwardly, or some +hidden disease is at work upon him. + +--What 's the matter with Little Boston?--said the young man John to me +one day.--There a'n't much of him, anyhow; but 't seems to me he looks +peakeder than ever. The old woman says he's in a bad way, 'n' wants a +puss to take care of him. Them pusses that take care of old rich folks +marry 'em sometimes,--'n' they don't commonly live a great while after +that. No, Sir! I don't see what he wants to die for, after he's taken +so much trouble to live in such poor accommodations as that crooked body +of his. I should like to know how his soul crawled into it, 'n' how it's +goin' to get out. What business has he to die, I should like to know? +Let Ma'am Allen (the gentleman with the diamond) die, if he likes, and be +(this is a family-magazine); but we a'n't goin' to have him dyin'. Not +by a great sight. Can't do without him anyhow. A'n't it fun to hear him +blow off his steam? + +I believe the young fellow would take it as a personal insult, if the +Little Gentleman should show any symptoms of quitting our table for a +better world. + +--In the mean time, what with going to church in company with our young +lady, and taking every chance I could get to talk with her, I have found +myself becoming, I will not say intimate, but well acquainted with Miss +Iris. There is a certain frankness and directness about her that perhaps +belong to her artist nature. For, you see, the one thing that marks the +true artist is a clear perception and a firm, bold hand, in distinction +from that imperfect mental vision and uncertain touch which give us the +feeble pictures and the lumpy statues of the mere artisans on canvas or +in stone. A true artist, therefore, can hardly fail to have a sharp, +well-defined mental physiognomy. Besides this, many young girls have a +strange audacity blended with their instinctive delicacy. Even in +physical daring many of them are a match for boys; whereas you will find +few among mature women, and especially if they are mothers, who do not +confess, and not unfrequently proclaim, their timidity. One of these +young girls, as many of us hereabouts remember, climbed to the top of a +jagged, slippery rock lying out in the waves,--an ugly height to get up, +and a worse one to get down, even for a bold young fellow of sixteen. +Another was in the way of climbing tall trees for crows' nests,--and +crows generally know about how far boys can "shin up," and set their +household establishments above that high-water mark. Still another of +these young ladies I saw for the first time in an open boat, tossing on +the ocean ground-swell, a mile or two from shore, off a lonely island. +She lost all her daring, after she had some girls of her own to look out +for. + +Many blondes are very gentle, yielding in character, impressible, +unelastic. But the positive blondes, with the golden tint running +through them, are often full of character. They come, probably enough, +from those deep-bosomed German women that Tacitus portrayed in such +strong colors. The negative blondes, or those women whose tints have +faded out as their line of descent has become impoverished, are of +various blood, and in them the soul has often become pale with that +blanching of the hair and loss of color in the eyes which makes them +approach the character of Albinesses. + +I see in this young girl that union of strength and sensibility which, +when directed and impelled by the strong instinct so apt to accompany +this combination of active and passive capacity, we call genius. She is +not an accomplished artist, certainly, as yet; but there is always an air +in every careless figure she draws, as it were of upward aspiration,--the +elan of John of Bologna's Mercury,--a lift to them, as if they had on +winged sandals, like the herald of the Gods. I hear her singing +sometimes; and though she evidently is not trained, yet is there a wild +sweetness in her fitful and sometimes fantastic melodies,--such as can +come only from the inspiration of the moment,--strangely enough, +reminding me of those long passages I have heard from my little +neighbor's room, yet of different tone, and by no means to be mistaken +for those weird harmonies. + +I cannot pretend to deny that I am interested in the girl. Alone, +unprotected, as I have seen so many young girls left in boarding-houses, +the centre of all the men's eyes that surround the table, watched with +jealous sharpness by every woman, most of all by that poor relation of +our landlady, who belongs to the class of women that like to catch others +in mischief when they themselves are too mature for indiscretions, (as +one sees old rogues turn to thief-catchers,) one of Nature's gendarmerie, +clad in a complete suit of wrinkles, the cheapest coat-of-mail against +the shafts of the great little enemy,--so surrounded, Iris spans this +commonplace household-life of ours with her arch of beauty, as the +rainbow, whose name she borrows, looks down on a dreary pasture with its +feeding flocks and herds of indifferent animals. + +These young girls that live in boarding-houses can do pretty much as they +will. The female gendarmes are off guard occasionally. The sitting-room +has its solitary moments, when any two boarders who wish to meet may come +together accidentally, (accidentally, I said, Madam, and I had not the +slightest intention of Italicizing the word,) and discuss the social or +political questions of the day, or any other subject that may prove +interesting. Many charming conversations take place at the foot of the +stairs, or while one of the parties is holding the latch of a door,--in +the shadow of porticoes, and especially on those outside balconies which +some of our Southern neighbors call "stoops," the most charming places in +the world when the moon is just right and the roses and honeysuckles are +in full blow,--as we used to think in eighteen hundred and never mention +it. + +On such a balcony or "stoop," one evening, I walked with Iris. We were +on pretty good terms now, and I had coaxed her arm under mine,--my left +arm, of course. That leaves one's right arm free to defend the lovely +creature, if the rival--odious wretch! attempt, to ravish her from your +side. Likewise if one's heart should happen to beat a little, its mute +language will not be without its meaning, as you will perceive when the +arm you hold begins to tremble, a circumstance like to occur, if you +happen to be a good-looking young fellow, and you two have the "stoop" to +yourselves. + +We had it to ourselves that evening. The Koh-inoor, as we called him, +was in a corner with our landlady's daughter. The young fellow John was +smoking out in the yard. The gendarme was afraid of the evening air, and +kept inside, The young Marylander came to the door, looked out and saw us +walking together, gave his hat a pull over his forehead and stalked off. +I felt a slight spasm, as it were, in the arm I held, and saw the girl's +head turn over her shoulder for a second. What a kind creature this is! +She has no special interest in this youth, but she does not like to see a +young fellow going off because he feels as if he were not wanted. + +She had her locked drawing-book under her arm.--Let me take it,--I said. + +She gave it to me to carry. + +This is full of caricatures of all of us, I am sure,--said I. + +She laughed, and said,--No,--not all of you. + +I was there, of course? + +Why, no,--she had never taken so much pains with me. + +Then she would let me see the inside of it? + +She would think of it. + +Just as we parted, she took a little key from her pocket and handed it to +me. This unlocks my naughty book,--she said,--you shall see it. I am +not afraid of you. + +I don't know whether the last words exactly pleased me. At any rate, I +took the book and hurried with it to my room. I opened it, and saw, in a +few glances, that I held the heart of Iris in my hand. + +--I have no verses for you this month, except these few lines suggested +by the season. + + + MIDSUMMER. + + Here! sweep these foolish leaves away, + I will not crush my brains to-day! + Look! are the southern curtains drawn? + Fetch me a fan, and so begone! + + Not that,--the palm-tree's rustling leaf + Brought from a parching coral-reef! + Its breath is heated;--I would swing + The broad gray plumes,--the eagle's wing. + + I hate these roses' feverish blood! + Pluck me a half-blown lily-bud, + A long-stemmed lily from the lake, + Cold as a coiling water-snake. + + Rain me sweet odors on the air, + And wheel me up my Indian chair, + And spread some book not overwise + Flat out before my sleepy eyes. + + --Who knows it not,--this dead recoil + Of weary fibres stretched with toil, + The pulse that flutters faint and low + When Summer's seething breezes blow? + + O Nature! bare thy loving breast + And give thy child one hour of rest, + One little hour to lie unseen + Beneath thy scarf of leafy green! + + So, curtained by a singing pine, + Its murmuring voice shall blend with mine, + Till, lost in dreams, my faltering lay + In sweeter music dies away. + + + +X + + IRIS, HER BOOK + + I pray thee by the soul of her that bore thee, + By thine own sister's spirit I implore thee, + Deal gently with the leaves that lie before thee! + + For Iris had no mother to infold her, + Nor ever leaned upon a sister's shoulder, + Telling the twilight thoughts that Nature told her. + + She had not learned the mystery of awaking + Those chorded keys that soothe a sorrow's aching, + Giving the dumb heart voice, that else were breaking. + + Yet lived, wrought, suffered. Lo, the pictured token! + Why should her fleeting day-dreams fade unspoken, + Like daffodils that die with sheaths unbroken? + + She knew not love, yet lived in maiden fancies, + Walked simply clad, a queen of high romances, + And talked strange tongues with angels in her trances. + + Twin-souled she seemed, a twofold nature wearing, + Sometimes a flashing falcon in her daring, + Then a poor mateless dove that droops despairing. + + Questioning all things: Why her Lord had sent her? + What were these torturing gifts, and wherefore lent her? + Scornful as spirit fallen, its own tormentor. + + And then all tears and anguish: Queen of Heaven, + Sweet Saints, and Thou by mortal sorrows riven, + Save me! oh, save me! Shall I die forgiven? + + And then--Ah, God! But nay, it little matters + Look at the wasted seeds that autumn scatters, + The myriad germs that Nature shapes and shatters! + + If she had--Well! She longed, and knew not wherefore + Had the world nothing she might live to care for? + No second self to say her evening prayer for? + + She knew the marble shapes that set men dreaming, + Yet with her shoulders bare and tresses streaming + Showed not unlovely to her simple seeming. + + Vain? Let it be so! Nature was her teacher. + What if a lonely and unsistered creature + Loved her own harmless gift of pleasing feature, + + Saying, unsaddened,--This shall soon be faded, + And double-hued the shining tresses braided, + And all the sunlight of the morning shaded? + + --This her poor book is full of saddest follies, + Of tearful smiles and laughing melancholies, + With summer roses twined and wintry hollies. + + In the strange crossing of uncertain chances, + Somewhere, beneath some maiden's tear-dimmed glances + May fall her little book of dreams and fancies. + + Sweet sister! Iris, who shall never name thee, + Trembling for fear her open heart may shame thee, + Speaks from this vision-haunted page to claim thee. + + Spare her, I pray thee! If the maid is sleeping, + Peace with her! she has had her hour of weeping. + No more! She leaves her memory in thy keeping. + +These verses were written in the first leaves of the locked volume. As I +turned the pages, I hesitated for a moment. Is it quite fair to take +advantage of a generous, trusting impulse to read the unsunned depths of +a young girl's nature, which I can look through, as the balloon-voyagers +tell us they see from their hanging-baskets through the translucent +waters which the keenest eye of such as sail over them in ships might +strive to pierce in vain? Why has the child trusted me with such artless +confessions,--self-revelations, which might be whispered by trembling +lips, under the veil of twilight, in sacred confessionals, but which I +cannot look at in the light of day without a feeling of wronging a sacred +confidence? + +To all this the answer seemed plain enough after a little thought. She +did not know how fearfully she had disclosed herself; she was too +profoundly innocent. Her soul was no more ashamed than the fair shapes +that walked in Eden without a thought of over-liberal loveliness. Having +nobody to tell her story to,--having, as she said in her verses, no +musical instrument to laugh and cry with her,--nothing, in short, but the +language of pen and pencil,--all the veinings of her nature were +impressed on these pages as those of a fresh leaf are transferred to the +blank sheets which inclose it. It was the same thing which I remember +seeing beautifully shown in a child of some four or five years we had one +day at our boarding-house. The child was a deaf mute. But its soul had +the inner sense that answers to hearing, and the shaping capacity which +through natural organs realizes itself in words. Only it had to talk +with its face alone; and such speaking eyes, such rapid alternations of +feeling and shifting expressions of thought as flitted over its face, I +have never seen in any other human countenance. + +I wonder if something of spiritual transparency is not typified in the +golden-blonde organization. There are a great many little +creatures,--many small fishes, for instance,--which are literally +transparent, with the exception of some of the internal organs. The +heart can be seen beating as if in a case of clouded crystal. The +central nervous column with its sheath runs as a dark stripe through the +whole length of the diaphanous muscles of the body. Other little +creatures are so darkened with pigment that we can see only their +surface. Conspirators and poisoners are painted with black, beady-eyes +and swarthy hue; Judas, in Leonardo's picture, is the model of them all. + +However this may be, I should say there never had been a book like this +of Iris,--so full of the heart's silent language, so transparent that the +heart itself could be seen beating through it. I should say there never +could have been such a book, but for one recollection, which is not +peculiar to myself, but is shared by a certain number of my former +townsmen. If you think I over-color this matter of the young girl's +book, hear this, which there are others, as I just said, besides myself, +will tell you is strictly true. + + +THE BOOK OF THE THREE MAIDEN SISTERS. + +In the town called Cantabridge, now a city, water-veined and gas +windpiped, in the street running down to the Bridge, beyond which dwelt +Sally, told of in a book of a friend of mine, was of old a house +inhabited by three maidens. They left no near kinsfolk, I believe; +whether they did or not, I have no ill to speak of them; for they lived +and died in all good report and maidenly credit. The house they lived in +was of the small, gambrel-roofed cottage pattern, after the shape of +Esquires' houses, but after the size of the dwellings of handicraftsmen. +The lower story was fitted up as a shop. Specially was it provided with +one of those half-doors now so rarely met with, which are to whole doors +as spencers worn by old folk are to coats. They speak of limited +commerce united with a social or observing disposition--on the part of +the shopkeeper,--allowing, as they do, talk with passers-by, yet keeping +off such as have not the excuse of business to cross the threshold. On +the door-posts, at either side, above the half-door, hung certain +perennial articles of merchandise, of which my memory still has hanging +among its faded photographs a kind of netted scarf and some pairs of +thick woollen stockings. More articles, but not very many, were stored +inside; and there was one drawer, containing children's books, out of +which I once was treated to a minute quarto ornamented with handsome +cuts. This was the only purchase I ever knew to be made at the shop kept +by the three maiden ladies, though it is probable there were others. So +long as I remember the shop, the same scarf and, I should say, the same +stockings hung on the door-posts.--You think I am exaggerating again, and +that shopkeepers would not keep the same article exposed for years. Come +to me, the Professor, and I will take you in five minutes to a shop in +this city where I will show you an article hanging now in the very place +where more than thirty years ago I myself inquired the price of it of the +present head of the establishment. [ This was a glass alembic, which hung +up in Daniel Henchman's apothecary shop, corner of Cambridge and Chambers +streets.] + +The three maidens were of comely presence, and one of them had had claims +to be considered a Beauty. When I saw them in the old meeting-house on +Sundays, as they rustled in through the aisles in silks and satins, not +gay, but more than decent, as I remember them, I thought of My Lady +Bountiful in the history of "Little King Pippin," and of the Madam Blaize +of Goldsmith (who, by the way, must have taken the hint of it from a +pleasant poem, "Monsieur de la Palisse," attributed to De la Monnoye, in +the collection of French songs before me). There was some story of an +old romance in which the Beauty had played her part. Perhaps they all +had had lovers; for, as I said, they were shapely and seemly personages, +as I remember them; but their lives were out of the flower and in the +berry at the time of my first recollections. + +One after another they all three dropped away, objects of kindly +attention to the good people round, leaving little or almost nothing, and +nobody to inherit it. Not absolutely nothing, of course. There must +have been a few old dresses--perhaps some bits of furniture, a Bible, and +the spectacles the good old souls read it through, and little keepsakes, +such as make us cry to look at, when we find them in old drawers;--such +relics there must have been. But there was more. There was a manuscript +of some hundred pages, closely written, in which the poor things had +chronicled for many years the incidents of their daily life. After their +death it was passed round somewhat freely, and fell into my hands. How I +have cried and laughed and colored over it! There was nothing in it to +be ashamed of, perhaps there was nothing in it to laugh at, but such a +picture of the mode of being of poor simple good old women I do believe +was never drawn before. And there were all the smallest incidents +recorded, such as do really make up humble life, but which die out of all +mere literary memoirs, as the houses where the Egyptians or the Athenians +lived crumble and leave only their temples standing. I know, for +instance, that on a given day of a certain year, a kindly woman, herself +a poor widow, now, I trust, not without special mercies in heaven for her +good deeds,--for I read her name on a proper tablet in the churchyard a +week ago,--sent a fractional pudding from her own table to the Maiden +Sisters, who, I fear, from the warmth and detail of their description, +were fasting, or at least on short allowance, about that time. I know +who sent them the segment of melon, which in her riotous fancy one of +them compared to those huge barges to which we give the ungracious name +of mudscows. But why should I illustrate further what it seems almost a +breach of confidence to speak of? Some kind friend, who could challenge +a nearer interest than the curious strangers into whose hands the book +might fall, at last claimed it, and I was glad that it should be +henceforth sealed to common eyes. I learned from it that every good and, +alas! every evil act we do may slumber unforgotten even in some earthly +record. I got a new lesson in that humanity which our sharp race finds +it so hard to learn. The poor widow, fighting hard to feed and clothe +and educate her children, had not forgotten the poorer ancient maidens. I +remembered it the other day, as I stood by her place of rest, and I felt +sure that it was remembered elsewhere. I know there are prettier words +than pudding, but I can't help it,--the pudding went upon the record, I +feel sure, with the mite which was cast into the treasury by that other +poor widow whose deed the world shall remember forever, and with the +coats and garments which the good women cried over, when Tabitha, called +by interpretation Dorcas, lay dead in the upper chamber, with her +charitable needlework strewed around her. + +--Such was the Book of the Maiden Sisters. You will believe me more +readily now when I tell you that I found the soul of Iris in the one that +lay open before me. Sometimes it was a poem that held it, sometimes a +drawing, angel, arabesque, caricature, or a mere hieroglyphic symbol of +which I could make nothing. A rag of cloud on one page, as I remember, +with a streak of red zigzagging out of it across the paper as naturally +as a crack runs through a China bowl. On the next page a dead +bird,--some little favorite, I suppose; for it was worked out with a +special love, and I saw on the leaf that sign with which once or twice in +my life I have had a letter sealed,--a round spot where the paper is +slightly corrugated, and, if there is writing there, the letters are +somewhat faint and blurred. Most of the pages were surrounded with +emblematic traceries. It was strange to me at first to see how often she +introduced those homelier wild-flowers which we call weeds,--for it +seemed there was none of them too humble for her to love, and none too +little cared for by Nature to be without its beauty for her artist eye +and pencil. By the side of the garden-flowers,--of Spring's curled +darlings, the hyacinths, of rosebuds, dear to sketching maidens, of +flower-de-luces and morning-glories, nay, oftener than these, and more +tenderly caressed by the colored brush that rendered them,--were those +common growths which fling themselves to be crushed under our feet and +our wheels, making themselves so cheap in this perpetual martyrdom that +we forget each of them is a ray of the Divine beauty. + +Yellow japanned buttercups and star-disked dandelions,--just as we see +them lying in the grass, like sparks that have leaped from the kindling +sun of summer; the profuse daisy-like flower which whitens the fields, to +the great disgust of liberal shepherds, yet seems fair to loving eyes, +with its button-like mound of gold set round with milk-white rays; the +tall-stemmed succory, setting its pale blue flowers aflame, one after +another, sparingly, as the lights are kindled in the candelabra of +decaying palaces where the heirs of dethroned monarchs are dying out; the +red and white clovers, the broad, flat leaves of the plantain,--"the +white man's foot," as the Indians called it,--the wiry, jointed stems of +that iron creeping plant which we call "knot-grass," and which loves its +life so dearly that it is next to impossible to murder it with a hoe, as +it clings to the cracks of the pavement;--all these plants, and many +more, she wove into her fanciful garlands and borders.--On one of the +pages were some musical notes. I touched them from curiosity on a piano +belonging to one of our boarders. Strange! There are passages that I +have heard before, plaintive, full of some hidden meaning, as if they +were gasping for words to interpret them. She must have heard the +strains that have so excited my curiosity, coming from my neighbor's +chamber. The illuminated border she had traced round the page that held +these notes took the place of the words they seemed to be aching for. +Above, a long monotonous sweep of waves, leaden-hued, anxious and jaded +and sullen, if you can imagine such an expression in water. On one side +an Alpine needle, as it were, of black basalt, girdled with snow. On the +other a threaded waterfall. The red morning-tint that shone in the drops +had a strange look,--one would say the cliff was bleeding;--perhaps she +did not mean it. Below, a stretch of sand, and a solitary bird of prey, +with his wings spread over some unseen object.--And on the very next page +a procession wound along, after the fashion of that on the title-page of +Fuller's "Holy War," in which I recognized without difficulty every +boarder at our table in all the glory of the most resplendent +caricature--three only excepted,--the Little Gentleman, myself, and one +other. + +I confess I did expect to see something that would remind me of the +girl's little deformed neighbor, if not portraits of him.--There is a +left arm again, though;--no,--that is from the "Fighting Gladiator," the +"Jeune Heros combattant" of the Louvre;--there is the broad ring of the +shield. From a cast, doubtless. [The separate casts of the +"Gladiator's" arm look immense; but in its place the limb looks light, +almost slender,--such is the perfection of that miraculous marble. I +never felt as if I touched the life of the old Greeks until I looked on +that statue.]--Here is something very odd, to be sure. An Eden of all +the humped and crooked creatures! What could have been in her head when +she worked out such a fantasy? She has contrived to give them all beauty +or dignity or melancholy grace. A Bactrian camel lying under a palm. A +dromedary flashing up the sands,--spray of the dry ocean sailed by the +"ship of the desert." A herd of buffaloes, uncouth, shaggy-maned, heavy +in the forehand, light in the hind-quarter. [The buffalo is the lion of +the ruminants.] And there is a Norman horse, with his huge, rough collar, +echoing, as it were, the natural form of the other beast. And here are +twisted serpents; and stately swans, with answering curves in their bowed +necks, as if they had snake's blood under their white feathers; and +grave, high-shouldered herons standing on one foot like cripples, and +looking at life round them with the cold stare of monumental effigies.--A +very odd page indeed! Not a creature in it without a curve or a twist, +and not one of them a mean figure to look at. You can make your own +comment; I am fanciful, you know. I believe she is trying to idealize +what we vulgarly call deformity, which she strives to look at in the +light of one of Nature's eccentric curves, belonging to her system of +beauty, as the hyperbola, and parabola belong to the conic sections, +though we cannot see them as symmetrical and entire figures, like the +circle and ellipse. At any rate, I cannot help referring this paradise +of twisted spines to some idea floating in her head connected with her +friend whom Nature has warped in the moulding.--That is nothing to +another transcendental fancy of mine. I believe her soul thinks itself +in his little crooked body at times,--if it does not really get freed or +half freed from her own. Did you ever see a case of catalepsy? You know +what I mean,--transient loss of sense, will, and motion; body and limbs +taking any position in which they are put, as if they belonged to a +lay-figure. She had been talking with him and listening to him one day +when the boarders moved from the table nearly all at once. But she sat +as before, her cheek resting on her hand, her amber eyes wide open and +still. I went to her, she was breathing as usual, and her heart was +beating naturally enough,--but she did not answer. I bent her arm; it +was as plastic as softened wax, and kept the place I gave it.--This will +never do, though, and I sprinkled a few drops of water on her forehead. +She started and looked round.--I have been in a dream,--she said;--I +feel as if all my strength were in this arm;--give me your hand!--She +took my right hand in her left, which looked soft and white enough, +but--Good Heaven! I believe she will crack my bones! All the nervous +power in her body must have flashed through those muscles; as when a +crazy lady snaps her iron window-bars,--she who could hardly glove +herself when in her common health. Iris turned pale, and the tears came +to her eyes;--she saw she had given pain. Then she trembled, and might +have fallen but for me;--the poor little soul had been in one of those +trances that belong to the spiritual pathology of higher natures, mostly +those of women. + +To come back to this wondrous book of Iris. Two pages faced each other +which I took for symbolical expressions of two states of mind. On the +left hand, a bright blue sky washed over the page, specked with a single +bird. No trace of earth, but still the winged creature seemed to be +soaring upward and upward. Facing it, one of those black dungeons such +as Piranesi alone of all men has pictured. I am sure she must have seen +those awful prisons of his, out of which the Opium-Eater got his +nightmare vision, described by another as "cemeteries of departed +greatness, where monstrous and forbidden things are crawling and twining +their slimy convolutions among mouldering bones, broken sculpture, and +mutilated inscriptions." Such a black dungeon faced the page that held +the blue sky and the single bird; at the bottom of it something was +coiled,--what, and whether meant for dead or alive, my eyes could not +make out. + +I told you the young girl's soul was in this book. As I turned over the +last leaves I could not help starting. There were all sorts of faces +among the arabesques which laughed and scowled in the borders that ran +round the pages. They had mostly the outline of childish or womanly or +manly beauty, without very distinct individuality. But at last it seemed +to me that some of them were taking on a look not wholly unfamiliar to +me; there were features that did not seem new.--Can it be so? Was there +ever such innocence in a creature so full of life? She tells her heart's +secrets as a three-years-old child betrays itself without need of being +questioned! This was no common miss, such as are turned out in scores +from the young-lady-factories, with parchments warranting them +accomplished and virtuous,--in case anybody should question the fact. I +began to understand her;--and what is so charming as to read the secret +of a real femme incomprise?--for such there are, though they are not the +ones who think themselves uncomprehended women. + +Poets are never young, in one sense. Their delicate ear hears the +far-off whispers of eternity, which coarser souls must travel towards for +scores of years before their dull sense is touched by them. A moment's +insight is sometimes worth a life's experience. I have frequently seen +children, long exercised by pain and exhaustion, whose features had a +strange look of advanced age. Too often one meets such in our charitable +institutions. Their faces are saddened and wrinkled, as if their few +summers were threescore years and ten. + +And so, many youthful poets have written as if their hearts were old +before their time; their pensive morning twilight has been as cool and +saddening as that of evening in more common lives. The profound +melancholy of those lines of Shelley, + + "I could lie down like a tired child + And weep away the life of care + Which I have borne and yet must bear." + +came from a heart, as he says, "too soon grown old,"--at twenty-six +years, as dull people count time, even when they talk of poets. + +I know enough to be prepared for an exceptional nature,--only this gift +of the hand in rendering every thought in form and color, as well as in +words, gives a richness to this young girl's alphabet of feeling and +imagery that takes me by surprise. And then besides, and most of all, I +am puzzled at her sudden and seemingly easy confidence in me. Perhaps I +owe it to my--Well, no matter! How one must love the editor who first +calls him the venerable So-and-So! + +--I locked the book and sighed as I laid it down. The world is always +ready to receive talent with open arms. Very often it does not know what +to do with genius. Talent is a docile creature. It bows its head meekly +while the world slips the collar over it. It backs into the shafts like +a lamb. It draws its load cheerfully, and is patient of the bit and of +the whip. But genius is always impatient of its harness; its wild blood +makes it hard to train. + +Talent seems, at first, in one sense, higher than genius,--namely, that +it is more uniformly and absolutely submitted to the will, and therefore +more distinctly human in its character. Genius, on the other hand, is +much more like those instincts which govern the admirable movements of +the lower creatures, and therefore seems to have something of the lower +or animal character. A goose flies by a chart which the Royal +Geographical Society could not mend. A poet, like the goose, sails +without visible landmarks to unexplored regions of truth, which +philosophy has yet to lay down on its atlas. The philosopher gets his +track by observation; the poet trusts to his inner sense, and makes the +straighter and swifter line. + +And yet, to look at it in another light, is not even the lowest instinct +more truly divine than any voluntary human act done by the suggestion of +reason? What is a bee's architecture but an unobstructed divine +thought?--what is a builder's approximative rule but an obstructed +thought of the Creator, a mutilated and imperfect copy of some absolute +rule Divine Wisdom has established, transmitted through a human soul as +an image through clouded glass? + +Talent is a very common family-trait; genius belongs rather to +individuals;--just as you find one giant or one dwarf in a family, but +rarely a whole brood of either. Talent is often to be envied, and genius +very commonly to be pitied. It stands twice the chance of the other of +dying in hospital, in jail, in debt, in bad repute. It is a perpetual +insult to mediocrity; its every word is a trespass against somebody's +vested ideas,--blasphemy against somebody's O'm, or intangible private +truth. + +--What is the use of my weighing out antitheses in this way, like a +rhetorical grocer?--You know twenty men of talent, who are making their +way in the world; you may, perhaps, know one man of genius, and very +likely do not want to know any more. For a divine instinct, such as +drives the goose southward and the poet heavenward, is a hard thing to +manage, and proves too strong for many whom it possesses. It must have +been a terrible thing to have a friend like Chatterton or Burns. And +here is a being who certainly has more than talent, at once poet and +artist in tendency, if not yet fairly developed,--a woman, too;--and +genius grafted on womanhood is like to overgrow it and break its stem, as +you may see a grafted fruit-tree spreading over the stock which cannot +keep pace with its evolution. + +I think now you know something of this young person. She wants nothing +but an atmosphere to expand in. Now and then one meets with a nature for +which our hard, practical New England life is obviously utterly +incompetent. It comes up, as a Southern seed, dropped by accident in one +of our gardens, finds itself trying to grow and blow into flower among +the homely roots and the hardy shrubs that surround it. There is no +question that certain persons who are born among us find themselves many +degrees too far north. Tropical by organization, they cannot fight for +life with our eastern and northwestern breezes without losing the color +and fragrance into which their lives would have blossomed in the latitude +of myrtles and oranges. Strange effects are produced by suffering any +living thing to be developed under conditions such as Nature had not +intended for it. A French physiologist confined some tadpoles under +water in the dark. Removed from the natural stimulus of light, they did +not develop legs and arms at the proper period of their growth, and so +become frogs; they swelled and spread into gigantic tadpoles. I have seen +a hundred colossal human tadpoles, overgrown Zarvce or embryos; nay, I am +afraid we Protestants should look on a considerable proportion of the +Holy Father's one hundred and thirty-nine millions as spiritual larvae, +sculling about in the dark by the aid of their caudal extremities, +instead of standing on their legs, and breathing by gills, instead of +taking the free air of heaven into the lungs made to receive it. Of +course we never try to keep young souls in the tadpole state, for fear +they should get a pair or two of legs by-and-by and jump out of the pool +where they have been bred and fed! Never! Never. Never? + +Now to go back to our plant. You may know, that, for the earlier stages +of development of almost any vegetable, you only want air, water, light, +and warmth. But by-and-by, if it is to have special complex principles +as a part of its organization, they must be supplied by the soil;--your +pears will crack, if the root of the tree gets no iron,--your +asparagus-bed wants salt as much as you do. Just at the period of +adolescence, the mind often suddenly begins to come into flower and to +set its fruit. Then it is that many young natures, having exhausted the +spiritual soil round them of all it contains of the elements they demand, +wither away, undeveloped and uncolored, unless they are transplanted. + +Pray for these dear young souls! This is the second natural birth;--for +I do not speak of those peculiar religious experiences which form the +point of transition in many lives between the consciousness of a general +relation to the Divine nature and a special personal relation. The +litany should count a prayer for them in the list of its supplications; +masses should be said for them as for souls in purgatory; all good +Christians should remember them as they remember those in peril through +travel or sickness or in warfare. + +I would transport this child to Rome at once, if I had my will. She +should ripen under an Italian sun. She should walk under the frescoed +vaults of palaces, until her colors deepened to those of Venetian +beauties, and her forms were perfected into rivalry with the Greek +marbles, and the east wind was out of her soil. Has she not exhausted +this lean soil of the elements her growing nature requires? + +I do not know. The magnolia grows and comes into full flower on Cape +Ann, many degrees out of its proper region. I was riding once along that +delicious road between the hills and the sea, when we passed a thicket +where there seemed to be a chance of finding it. In five minutes I had +fallen on the trees in full blossom, and filled my arms with the sweet, +resplendent flowers. I could not believe I was in our cold, northern +Essex, which, in the dreary season when I pass its slate-colored, +unpainted farm-houses, and huge, square, windy, 'squire-built "mansions," +looks as brown and unvegetating as an old rug with its patterns all +trodden out and the colored fringe worn from all its border. + +If the magnolia can bloom in northern New England, why should not a poet +or a painter come to his full growth here just as well? Yes, but if the +gorgeous tree-flower is rare, and only as if by a freak of Nature springs +up in a single spot among the beeches and alders, is there not as much +reason to think the perfumed flower of imaginative genius will find it +hard to be born and harder to spread its leaves in the clear, cold +atmosphere of our ultra-temperate zone of humanity? + +Take the poet. On the one hand, I believe that a person with the +poetical faculty finds material everywhere. The grandest objects of +sense and thought are common to all climates and civilizations. The sky, +the woods, the waters, the storms, life, death love, the hope and vision +of eternity,--these are images that write themselves in poetry in every +soul which has anything of the divine gift. + +On the other hand, there is such a thing as a lean, impoverished life, in +distinction from a rich and suggestive one. Which our common New England +life might be considered, I will not decide. But there are some things I +think the poet misses in our western Eden. I trust it is not unpatriotic +to mention them in this point of view as they come before us in so many +other aspects. + +There is no sufficient flavor of humanity in the soil out of which we +grow. At Cantabridge, near the sea, I have once or twice picked up an +Indian arrowhead in a fresh furrow. At Canoe Meadow, in the Berkshire +Mountains, I have found Indian arrowheads. So everywhere Indian +arrowheads. Whether a hundred or a thousand years old, who knows? who +cares? There is no history to the red race,--there is hardly an +individual in it;--a few instincts on legs and holding a tomahawk--there +is the Indian of all time. The story of one red ant is the story of all +red ants. So, the poet, in trying to wing his way back through the life +that has kindled, flitted, and faded along our watercourses and on our +southern hillsides for unknown generations, finds nothing to breathe or +fly in; he meets + + "A vast vacuity! all unawares, + Fluttering his pennons vain, plumb down he drops + Ten thousand fathom deep." + +But think of the Old World,--that part of it which is the seat of ancient +civilization! The stakes of the Britons' stockades are still standing in +the bed of the Thames. The ploughman turns up an old Saxon's bones, and +beneath them is a tessellated pavement of the time of the Caesars. In +Italy, the works of mediaeval Art seem to be of yesterday,--Rome, under +her kings, is but an intruding newcomer, as we contemplate her in the +shadow of the Cyclopean walls of Fiesole or Volterra. It makes a man +human to live on these old humanized soils. He cannot help marching in +step with his kind in the rear of such a procession. They say a dead +man's hand cures swellings, if laid on them. There is nothing like the +dead cold hand of the Past to take down our tumid egotism and lead us +into the solemn flow of the life of our race. Rousseau came out of one +of his sad self-torturing fits, as he cast his eye on the arches of the +old Roman aqueduct, the Pont du Gard. + +I am far from denying that there is an attraction in a thriving railroad +village. The new "depot," the smartly-painted pine houses, the spacious +brick hotel, the white meeting-house, and the row of youthful and leggy +trees before it, are exhilarating. They speak of progress, and the time +when there shall be a city, with a His Honor the Mayor, in the place of +their trim but transient architectural growths. Pardon me, if I prefer +the pyramids. They seem to me crystals formed from a stronger solution +of humanity than the steeple of the new meeting-house. I may be wrong, +but the Tiber has a voice for me, as it whispers to the piers of the Pons +Alius, even more full of meaning than my well-beloved Charles eddying +round the piles of West Boston Bridge. + +Then, again, we Yankees are a kind of gypsies,--a mechanical and +migratory race. A poet wants a home. He can dispense with an +apple-parer and a reaping-machine. I feel this more for others than for +myself, for the home of my birth and childhood has been as yet exempted +from the change which has invaded almost everything around it. + +--Pardon me a short digression. To what small things our memory and our +affections attach themselves! I remember, when I was a child, that one +of the girls planted some Star-of-Bethlehem bulbs in the southwest corner +of our front-yard. Well, I left the paternal roof and wandered in other +lands, and learned to think in the words of strange people. But after +many years, as I looked on the little front-yard again, it occurred to me +that there used to be some Star-of-Bethlehems in the southwest corner. +The grass was tall there, and the blade of the plant is very much like +grass, only thicker and glossier. Even as Tully parted the briers and +brambles when he hunted for the sphere-containing cylinder that marked +the grave of Archimedes, so did I comb the grass with my fingers for my +monumental memorial-flower. Nature had stored my keepsake tenderly in +her bosom; the glossy, faintly streaked blades were there; they are there +still, though they never flower, darkened as they are by the shade of the +elms and rooted in the matted turf. + +Our hearts are held down to our homes by innumerable fibres, trivial as +that I have just recalled; but Gulliver was fixed to the soil, you +remember, by pinning his head a hair at a time. Even a stone with a +whitish band crossing it, belonging to the pavement of the back-yard, +insisted on becoming one of the talismans of memory. This intussusception +of the ideas of inanimate objects, and their faithful storing away among +the sentiments, are curiously prefigured in the material structure of the +thinking centre itself. In the very core of the brain, in the part where +Des Cartes placed the soul, is a small mineral deposit, consisting, as I +have seen it in the microscope, of grape-like masses of crystalline +matter. + +But the plants that come up every year in the same place, like the +Star-of-Bethlehems, of all the lesser objects, give me the liveliest +home-feeling. Close to our ancient gambrel-roofed house is the dwelling +of pleasant old Neighbor Walrus. I remember the sweet honeysuckle that I +saw in flower against the wall of his house a few months ago, as long as +I remember the sky and stars. That clump of peonies, butting their +purple heads through the soil every spring in just the same circle, and +by-and-by unpacking their hard balls of buds in flowers big enough to +make a double handful of leaves, has come up in just that place, Neighbor +Walrus tells me, for more years than I have passed on this planet. It is +a rare privilege in our nomadic state to find the home of one's childhood +and its immediate neighborhood thus unchanged. Many born poets, I am +afraid, flower poorly in song, or not at all, because they have been too +often transplanted. + +Then a good many of our race are very hard and unimaginative;--their +voices have nothing caressing; their movements are as of machinery +without elasticity or oil. I wish it were fair to print a letter a young +girl, about the age of our Iris, wrote a short time since. "I am *** *** +***," she says, and tells her whole name outright. Ah!--said I, when I +read that first frank declaration,--you are one of the right sort!--She +was. A winged creature among close-clipped barn door fowl. How tired +the poor girl was of the dull life about her,--the old woman's "skeleton +hand" at the window opposite, drawing her curtains,--"Ma'am shooing away +the hens,"--the vacuous country eyes staring at her as only country eyes +can stare,--a routine of mechanical duties, and the soul's +half-articulated cry for sympathy, without an answer! Yes,--pray for +her, and for all such! Faith often cures their longings; but it is so +hard to give a soul to heaven that has not first been trained in the +fullest and sweetest human affections! Too often they fling their hearts +away on unworthy objects. Too often they pine in a secret discontent, +which spreads its leaden cloud over the morning of their youth. The +immeasurable distance between one of these delicate natures and the +average youths among whom is like to be her only choice makes one's heart +ache. How many women are born too finely organized in sense and soul for +the highway they must walk with feet unshod! Life is adjusted to the +wants of the stronger sex. There are plenty of torrents to be crossed in +its journey; but their stepping-stones are measured by the stride of man, +and not of woman. + +Women are more subject than men to atrophy of the heart. So says the +great medical authority, Laennec. Incurable cases of this kind used to +find their hospitals in convents. We have the disease in New +England,--but not the hospitals. I don't like to think of it. I will not +believe our young Iris is going to die out in this way. Providence will +find her some great happiness, or affliction, or duty,--and which would +be best for her, I cannot tell. One thing is sure: the interest she +takes in her little neighbor is getting to be more engrossing than ever. +Something is the matter with him, and she knows it, and I think worries +herself about it. + +I wonder sometimes how so fragile and distorted a frame has kept the +fiery spirit that inhabits it so long its tenant. He accounts for it in +his own way. + +The air of the Old World is good for nothing, he said, one day.--Used +up, Sir,--breathed over and over again. You must come to this side, Sir, +for an atmosphere fit to breathe nowadays. Did not worthy Mr. Higginson +say that a breath of New England's air is better than a sup of Old +England's ale? I ought to have died when I was a boy, Sir; but I could +n't die in this Boston air,--and I think I shall have to go to New York +one of these days, when it's time for me to drop this bundle,--or to New +Orleans, where they have the yellow fever,--or to Philadelphia, where +they have so many doctors. + +This was some time ago; but of late he has seemed, as I have before said, +to be ailing. An experienced eye, such as I think I may call mine, can +tell commonly whether a man is going to die, or not, long before he or +his friends are alarmed about him. I don't like it. + +Iris has told me that the Scottish gift of second-sight runs in her +family, and that she is afraid she has it. Those who are so endowed look +upon a well man and see a shroud wrapt about him. According to the +degree to which it covers him, his death will be near or more remote. It +is an awful faculty; but science gives one too much like it. Luckily for +our friends, most of us who have the scientific second-sight school +ourselves not to betray our knowledge by word or look. + +Day by day, as the Little Gentleman comes to the table, it seems to me +that the shadow of some approaching change falls darker and darker over +his countenance. Nature is struggling with something, and I am afraid +she is under in the wrestling-match. You do not care much, perhaps, for +my particular conjectures as to the nature of his difficulty. I should +say, however, from the sudden flushes to which he is subject, and certain +other marks which, as an expert, I know how to interpret, that his heart +was in trouble; but then he presses his hand to the right side, as if +there were the centre of his uneasiness. + +When I say difficulty about the heart, I do not mean any of those +sentimental maladies of that organ which figure more largely in romances +than on the returns which furnish our Bills of Mortality. I mean some +actual change in the organ itself, which may carry him off by slow and +painful degrees, or strike him down with one huge pang and only time for +a single shriek,--as when the shot broke through the brave Captain +Nolan's breast, at the head of the Light Brigade at Balaklava, and with a +loud cry he dropped dead from his saddle. + +I thought it only fair to say something of what I apprehended to some who +were entitled to be warned. The landlady's face fell when I mentioned my +fears. + +Poor man!--she said.--And will leave the best room empty! Has n't he got +any sisters or nieces or anybody to see to his things, if he should be +took away? Such a sight of cases, full of everything! Never thought of +his failin' so suddin. A complication of diseases, she expected. +Liver-complaint one of 'em? + +After this first involuntary expression of the too natural selfish +feelings, (which we must not judge very harshly, unless we happen to be +poor widows ourselves, with children to keep filled, covered, and +taught,--rents high,--beef eighteen to twenty cents per pound,)--after +this first squeak of selfishness, followed by a brief movement of +curiosity, so invariable in mature females, as to the nature of the +complaint which threatens the life of a friend or any person who may +happen to be mentioned as ill,--the worthy soul's better feelings +struggled up to the surface, and she grieved for the doomed invalid, +until a tear or two came forth and found their way down a channel worn +for them since the early days of her widowhood. + +Oh, this dreadful, dreadful business of being the prophet of evil! Of all +the trials which those who take charge of others' health and lives have +to undergo, this is the most painful. It is all so plain to the +practised eye!--and there is the poor wife, the doting mother, who has +never suspected anything, or at least has clung always to the hope which +you are just going to wrench away from her!--I must tell Iris that I +think her poor friend is in a precarious state. She seems nearer to him +than anybody. + +I did tell her. Whatever emotion it produced, she kept a still face, +except, perhaps, a little trembling of the lip.--Could I be certain that +there was any mortal complaint?--Why, no, I could not be certain; but it +looked alarming to me.--He shall have some of my life,--she said. + +I suppose this to have been a fancy of hers, or a kind of magnetic power +she could give out;--at any rate, I cannot help thinking she wills her +strength away from herself, for she has lost vigor and color from that +day. I have sometimes thought he gained the force she lost; but this may +have been a whim, very probably. + +One day she came suddenly to me, looking deadly pale. Her lips moved, as +if she were speaking; but I could not at first hear a word. Her hair +looked strangely, as if lifting itself, and her eyes were full of wild +light. She sunk upon a chair, and I thought was falling into one of her +trances. Something had frozen her blood with fear; I thought, from what +she said, half audibly, that she believed she had seen a shrouded figure. + +That night, at about eleven o'clock, I was sent for to see the Little +Gentleman, who was taken suddenly ill. Bridget, the servant, went before +me with a light. The doors were both unfastened, and I found myself +ushered, without hindrance, into the dim light of the mysterious +apartment I had so longed to enter. + +I found these stanzas in the young girl's book among many others. I give +them as characterizing the tone of her sadder moments. + + + UNDER THE VIOLETS. + + Her hands are cold; her face is white; + No more her pulses come and go; + Her eyes are shut to life and light; + Fold the white vesture, snow on snow, + And lay her where the violets blow. + + But not beneath a graven stone, + To plead for tears with alien eyes; + A slender cross of wood alone + Shall say, that here a maiden lies + In peace beneath the peaceful skies. + + And gray old trees of hugest limb + Shall wheel their circling shadows round + To make the scorching sunlight dim + That drinks the greenness from the ground, + And drop their dead leaves on her mound. + + When o'er their boughs the squirrels run, + And through their leaves the robins call, + And, ripening in the autumn sun, + The acorns and the chestnuts fall, + Doubt not that she will heed them all. + + For her the morning choir shall sing + Its matins from the branches high, + And every minstrel voice of spring, + That trills beneath the April sky, + Shall greet her with its earliest cry. + + When, turning round their dial-track, + Eastward the lengthening shadows pass, + Her little mourners, clad in black, + The crickets, sliding through the grass, + Shall pipe for her an evening mass. + + At last the rootlets of the trees + Shall find the prison where she lies, + And bear the buried dust they seize + In leaves and blossoms to the skies. + So may the soul that warmed it rise! + + If any, born of kindlier blood, + Should ask, What maiden lies below? + Say only this: A tender bud, + That tried to blossom in the snow, + Lies withered where the violets blow. + + + + +XI + +You will know, perhaps, in the course of half an hour's reading, what has +been haunting my hours of sleep and waking for months. I cannot tell, of +course, whether you are a nervous person or not. If, however, you are +such a person,--if it is late at night,--if all the rest of the household +have gone off to bed,--if the wind is shaking your windows as if a human +hand were rattling the sashes,--if your candle or lamp is low and will +soon burn out,--let me advise you to take up some good quiet sleepy +volume, or attack the "Critical Notices" of the last Quarterly and leave +this to be read by daylight, with cheerful voices round, and people near +by who would hear you, if you slid from your chair and came down in a +lump on the floor. + +I do not say that your heart will beat as mine did, I am willing to +confess, when I entered the dim chamber. Did I not tell you that I was +sensitive and imaginative, and that I had lain awake with thinking what +were the strange movements and sounds which I heard late at night in my +little neighbor's apartment? It had come to that pass that I was truly +unable to separate what I had really heard from what I had dreamed in +those nightmares to which I have been subject, as before mentioned. So, +when I walked into the room, and Bridget, turning back, closed the door +and left me alone with its tenant, I do believe you could have grated a +nutmeg on my skin, such a "goose-flesh" shiver ran over it. It was not +fear, but what I call nervousness,--unreasoning, but irresistible; as +when, for instance, one looking at the sun going down says, "I will count +fifty before it disappears"; and as he goes on and it becomes doubtful +whether he will reach the number, he gets strangely flurried, and his +imagination pictures life and death and heaven and hell as the issues +depending on the completion or non-completion of the fifty he is +counting. Extreme curiosity will excite some people as much as fear, or +what resembles fear, acts on some other less impressible natures. + +I may find myself in the midst of strange facts in this little conjurer's +room. Or, again, there may be nothing in this poor invalid's chamber but +some old furniture, such as they say came over in the Mayflower. All +this is just what I mean to, find out while I am looking at the Little +Gentleman, who has suddenly become my patient. The simplest things turn +out to be unfathomable mysteries; the most mysterious appearances prove +to be the most commonplace objects in disguise. + +I wonder whether the boys who live in Roxbury and Dorchester are ever +moved to tears or filled with silent awe as they look upon the rocks and +fragments of "puddingstone" abounding in those localities. I have my +suspicions that those boys "heave a stone" or "fire a brickbat," composed +of the conglomerate just mentioned, without any more tearful or +philosophical contemplations than boys of less favored regions expend on +the same performance. Yet a lump of puddingstone is a thing to look at, +to think about, to study over, to dream upon, to go crazy with, to beat +one's brains out against. Look at that pebble in it. From what cliff was +it broken? On what beach rolled by the waves of what ocean? How and +when imbedded in soft ooze, which itself became stone, and by-and-by was +lifted into bald summits and steep cliffs, such as you may see on +Meetinghouse-Hill any day--yes, and mark the scratches on their faces +left when the boulder-carrying glaciers planed the surface of the +continent with such rough tools that the storms have not worn the marks +out of it with all the polishing of ever so many thousand years? + +Or as you pass a roadside ditch or pool in springtime, take from it any +bit of stick or straw which has lain undisturbed for a time. Some little +worm-shaped masses of clear jelly containing specks are fastened to the +stick: eggs of a small snail-like shell-fish. One of these specks +magnified proves to be a crystalline sphere with an opaque mass in its +centre. And while you are looking, the opaque mass begins to stir, and +by-and-by slowly to turn upon its axis like a forming planet,--life +beginning in the microcosm, as in the great worlds of the firmament, with +the revolution that turns the surface in ceaseless round to the source of +life and light. + +A pebble and the spawn of a mollusk! Before you have solved their +mysteries, this earth where you first saw them may be a vitrified slag, +or a vapor diffused through the planetary spaces. Mysteries are common +enough, at any rate, whatever the boys in Roxbury and Dorchester think of +"brickbats" and the spawn of creatures that live in roadside puddles. + +But then a great many seeming mysteries are relatively perfectly plain, +when we can get at them so as to turn them over. How many ghosts that +"thick men's blood with cold" prove to be shirts hung out to dry! How +many mermaids have been made out of seals! How many times have +horse-mackerels been taken for the sea-serpent! + +--Let me take the whole matter coolly, while I see what is the matter +with the patient. That is what I say to myself, as I draw a chair to the +bedside. The bed is an old-fashioned, dark mahogany four-poster. It was +never that which made the noise of something moving. It is too heavy to +be pushed about the room.--The Little Gentleman was sitting, bolstered up +by pillows, with his hands clasped and their united palms resting on the +back of the head, one of the three or four positions specially affected +by persons whose breathing is difficult from disease of the heart or +other causes. + +Sit down, Sir,--he said,--sit down! I have come to the hill Difficulty, +Sir, and am fighting my way up.--His speech was laborious and +interrupted. + +Don't talk,--I said,--except to answer my questions.--And I proceeded to +"prospect" for the marks of some local mischief, which you know is at the +bottom of all these attacks, though we do not always find it. I suppose +I go to work pretty much like other professional folks of my temperament. +Thus: + +Wrist, if you please.--I was on his right side, but he presented his left +wrist, crossing it over the other.--I begin to count, holding watch in +left hand. One, two, three, four,--What a handsome hand! wonder if that +splendid stone is a carbuncle.--One, two, three, four, five, six, +seven,--Can't see much, it is so dark, except one white object.--One, +two, three, four,--Hang it! eighty or ninety in the minute, I +guess.--Tongue, if you please.--Tongue is put out. Forget to look at it, +or, rather, to take any particular notice of it;--but what is that white +object, with the long arm stretching up as if pointing to the sky, just +as Vesalius and Spigelius and those old fellows used to put their +skeletons? I don't think anything of such objects, you know; but what +should he have it in his chamber for? As I had found his pulse irregular +and intermittent, I took out a stethoscope, which is a pocket-spyglass +for looking into people's chests with your ears, and laid it over the +place where the heart beats. I missed the usual beat of the organ.--How +is this?--I said,--where is your heart gone to?--He took the stethoscope +and shifted it across to the right side; there was a displacement of the +organ.--I am ill-packed,--he said;--there was no room for my heart in its +place as it is with other men.--God help him! + +It is hard to draw the line between scientific curiosity and the desire +for the patient's sake to learn all the details of his condition. I must +look at this patient's chest, and thump it and listen to it. For this is +a case of ectopia cordis, my boy,--displacement of the heart; and it is +n't every day you get a chance to overhaul such an interesting +malformation. And so I managed to do my duty and satisfy my curiosity at +the same time. The torso was slight and deformed; the right arm +attenuated,--the left full, round, and of perfect symmetry. It had run +away with the life of the other limbs,--a common trick enough of +Nature's, as I told you before. If you see a man with legs withered from +childhood, keep out of the way of his arms, if you have a quarrel with +him. He has the strength of four limbs in two; and if he strikes you, it +is an arm-blow plus a kick administered from the shoulder instead of the +haunch, where it should have started from. + +Still examining him as a patient, I kept my eyes about me to search all +parts of the chamber and went on with the double process, as +before.--Heart hits as hard as a fist,--bellows-sound over mitral valves +(professional terms you need not attend to).--What the deuse is that long +case for? Got his witch grandmother mummied in it? And three big +mahogany presses,--hey?--A diabolical suspicion came over me which I had +had once before,--that he might be one of our modern alchemists,--you +understand, make gold, you know, or what looks like it, sometimes with +the head of a king or queen or of Liberty to embellish one side of the +piece.--Don't I remember hearing him shut a door and lock it once? What +do you think was kept under that lock? Let's have another look at his +hand, to see if there are any calluses. + +One can tell a man's business, if it is a handicraft, very often by just +taking a look at his open hand. Ah! Four calluses at the end of the +fingers of the right hand. None on those of the left. Ah, ha! What do +those mean? + +All this seems longer in the telling, of course, than it was in fact. +While I was making these observations of the objects around me, I was +also forming my opinion as to the kind of case with which I had to deal. + +There are three wicks, you know, to the lamp of a man's life: brain, +blood, and breath. Press the brain a little, its light goes out, +followed by both the others. Stop the heart a minute and out go all +three of the wicks. Choke the air out of the lungs, and presently the +fluid ceases to supply the other centres of flame, and all is soon +stagnation, cold, and darkness. The "tripod of life" a French +physiologist called these three organs. It is all clear enough which leg +of the tripod is going to break down here. I could tell you exactly what +the difficulty is;--which would be as intelligible and amusing as a +watchmaker's description of a diseased timekeeper to a ploughman. It is +enough to say, that I found just what I expected to, and that I think +this attack is only the prelude of more serious consequences,--which +expression means you very well know what. + +And now the secrets of this life hanging on a thread must surely come +out. If I have made a mystery where there was none, my suspicions will +be shamed, as they have often been before. If there is anything strange, +my visits will clear it up. + +I sat an hour or two by the side of the Little Gentleman's bed, after +giving him some henbane to quiet his brain, and some foxglove, which an +imaginative French professor has called the "Opium of the Heart." Under +their influence he gradually fell into an uneasy, half-waking slumber, +the body fighting hard for every breath, and the mind wandering off in +strange fancies and old recollections, which escaped from his lips in +broken sentences. + +--The last of 'em,--he said,--the last of 'em all,--thank God! And the +grave he lies in will look just as well as if he had been straight. Dig +it deep, old Martin, dig it deep,--and let it be as long as other folks' +graves. And mind you get the sods flat, old man,--flat as ever a +straight-backed young fellow was laid under. And then, with a good tall +slab at the head, and a foot-stone six foot away from it, it'll look just +as if there was a man underneath. + +A man! Who said he was a man? No more men of that pattern to bear his +name!--Used to be a good-looking set enough.--Where 's all the manhood +and womanhood gone to since his great-grandfather was the strongest man +that sailed out of the town of Boston, and poor Leah there the handsomest +woman in Essex, if she was a witch? + +--Give me some light,--he said,--more light. I want to see the picture. + +He had started either from a dream or a wandering reverie. I was not +unwilling to have more light in the apartment, and presently had lighted +an astral lamp that stood on a table.--He pointed to a portrait hanging +against the wall.--Look at her,--he said,--look at her! Wasn't that a +pretty neck to slip a hangman's noose over? + +The portrait was of a young woman, something more than twenty years old, +perhaps. There were few pictures of any merit painted in New England +before the time of Smibert, and I am at a loss to know what artist could +have taken this half-length, which was evidently from life. It was +somewhat stiff and flat, but the grace of the figure and the sweetness of +the expression reminded me of the angels of the early Florentine +painters. She must have been of some consideration, for she was dressed +in paduasoy and lace with hanging sleeves, and the old carved frame +showed how the picture had been prized by its former owners. A proud eye +she had, with all her sweetness.--I think it was that which hanged her, +as his strong arm hanged Minister George Burroughs;--but it may have been +a little mole on one cheek, which the artist had just hinted as a beauty +rather than a deformity. You know, I suppose, that nursling imps addict +themselves, after the fashion of young opossums, to these little +excrescences. "Witch-marks" were good evidence that a young woman was +one of the Devil's wet-nurses;--I should like to have seen you make fun +of them in those days!--Then she had a brooch in her bodice, that might +have been taken for some devilish amulet or other; and she wore a ring +upon one of her fingers, with a red stone in it, that flamed as if the +painter had dipped his pencil in fire;--who knows but that it was given +her by a midnight suitor fresh from that fierce element, and licensed for +a season to leave his couch of flame to tempt the unsanctified hearts of +earthly maidens and brand their cheeks with the print of his scorching +kisses? + +She and I,--he said, as he looked steadfastly at the canvas,--she and I +are the last of 'em.--She will stay, and I shall go. They never painted +me,--except when the boys used to make pictures of me with chalk on the +board-fences. They said the doctors would want my skeleton when I was +dead.--You are my friend, if you are a doctor,--a'n't you? + +I just gave him my hand. I had not the heart to speak. + +I want to lie still,--he said,--after I am put to bed upon the hill +yonder. Can't you have a great stone laid over me, as they did over the +first settlers in the old burying-ground at Dorchester, so as to keep the +wolves from digging them up? I never slept easy over the sod;--I should +like to lie quiet under it. And besides,--he said, in a kind of scared +whisper,--I don't want to have my bones stared at, as my body has been. +I don't doubt I was a remarkable case; but, for God's sake, oh, for God's +sake, don't let 'em make a show of the cage I have been shut up in and +looked through the bars of for so many years. + +I have heard it said that the art of healing makes men hard-hearted and +indifferent to human suffering. I am willing to own that there is often +a professional hardness in surgeons, just as there is in +theologians,--only much less in degree than in these last. It does not +commonly improve the sympathies of a man to be in the habit of thrusting +knives into his fellow-creatures and burning them with red-hot irons, any +more than it improves them to hold the blinding-white cantery of Gehenna +by its cool handle and score and crisp young souls with it until they are +scorched into the belief of--Transubstantiation or the Immaculate +Conception. And, to say the plain truth, I think there are a good many +coarse people in both callings. A delicate nature will not commonly +choose a pursuit which implies the habitual infliction of suffering, so +readily as some gentler office. Yet, while I am writing this paragraph, +there passes by my window, on his daily errand of duty, not seeing me, +though I catch a glimpse of his manly features through the oval glass of +his chaise, as he drives by, a surgeon of skill and standing, so +friendly, so modest, so tenderhearted in all his ways, that, if he had +not approved himself at once adroit and firm, one would have said he was +of too kindly a mould to be the minister of pain, even if he were saving +pain. + +You may be sure that some men, even among those who have chosen the task +of pruning their fellow-creatures, grow more and more thoughtful and +truly compassionate in the midst of their cruel experience. They become +less nervous, but more sympathetic. They have a truer sensibility for +others' pain, the more they study pain and disease in the light of +science. I have said this without claiming any special growth in +humanity for myself, though I do hope I grow tenderer in my feelings as I +grow older. At any rate, this was not a time in which professional +habits could keep down certain instincts of older date than these. + +This poor little man's appeal to my humanity against the supposed +rapacity of Science, which he feared would have her "specimen," if his +ghost should walk restlessly a thousand years, waiting for his bones to +be laid in the dust, touched my heart. But I felt bound to speak +cheerily. + +--We won't die yet awhile, if we can help it,--I said,--and I trust we +can help it. But don't be afraid; if I live longest, I will see that +your resting place is kept sacred till the dandelions and buttercups blow +over you. + +He seemed to have got his wits together by this time, and to have a vague +consciousness that he might have been saying more than he meant for +anybody's ears.--I have been talking a little wild, Sir, eh? he +said.--There is a great buzzing in my head with those drops of yours, and +I doubt if my tongue has not been a little looser than I would have it, +Sir. But I don't much want to live, Sir; that's the truth of the matter, +and it does rather please me to think that fifty years from now nobody +will know that the place where I lie does n't hold as stout and straight +a man as the best of 'em that stretch out as if they were proud of the +room they take. You may get me well, if you can, Sir, if you think it +worth while to try; but I tell you there has been no time for this many a +year when the smell of fresh earth was not sweeter to me than all the +flowers that grow out of it. There's no anodyne like your good clean +gravel, Sir. But if you can keep me about awhile, and it amuses you to +try, you may show your skill upon me, if you like. There is a pleasure +or two that I love the daylight for, and I think the night is not far +off, at best.--I believe I shall sleep now; you may leave me, and come, +if you like, in the morning. + +Before I passed out, I took one more glance round the apartment. The +beautiful face of the portrait looked at me, as portraits often do, with +a frightful kind of intelligence in its eyes. The drapery fluttered on +the still outstretched arm of the tall object near the window;--a crack +of this was open, no doubt, and some breath of wind stirred the hanging +folds. In my excited state, I seemed to see something ominous in that +arm pointing to the heavens. I thought of the figures in the Dance of +Death at Basle, and that other on the panels of the covered Bridge at +Lucerne, and it seemed to me that the grim mask who mingles with every +crowd and glides over every threshold was pointing the sick man to his +far home, and would soon stretch out his bony hand and lead him or drag +him on the unmeasured journey towards it. + +The fancy had possession of me, and I shivered again as when I first +entered the chamber. The picture and the shrouded shape; I saw only +these two objects. They were enough. The house was deadly still, and +the night-wind, blowing through an open window, struck me as from a field +of ice, at the moment I passed into the creaking corridor. As I turned +into the common passage, a white figure, holding a lamp, stood full +before me. I thought at first it was one of those images made to stand +in niches and hold a light in their hands. But the illusion was +momentary, and my eyes speedily recovered from the shock of the bright +flame and snowy drapery to see that the figure was a breathing one. It +was Iris, in one of her statue-trances. She had come down, whether +sleeping or waking, I knew not at first, led by an instinct that told her +she was wanted,--or, possibly, having overheard and interpreted the +sound of our movements,--or, it may be, having learned from the servant +that there was trouble which might ask for a woman's hand. I sometimes +think women have a sixth sense, which tells them that others, whom they +cannot see or hear, are in suffering. How surely we find them at the +bedside of the dying! How strongly does Nature plead for them, that we +should draw our first breath in their arms, as we sigh away our last upon +their faithful breasts! + +With white, bare feet, her hair loosely knotted, clad as the starlight +knew her, and the morning when she rose from slumber, save that she had +twisted a scarf round her long dress, she stood still as a stone before +me, holding in one hand a lighted coil of waxtaper, and in the other a +silver goblet. I held my own lamp close to her, as if she had been a +figure of marble, and she did not stir. There was no breach of propriety +then, to scare the Poor Relation with and breed scandal out of. She had +been "warned in a dream," doubtless suggested by her waking knowledge and +the sounds which had reached her exalted sense. There was nothing more +natural than that she should have risen and girdled her waist, and +lighted her taper, and found the silver goblet with "Ex dono pupillorum" +on it, from which she had taken her milk and possets through all her +childish years, and so gone blindly out to find her place at the +bedside,--a Sister of Charity without the cap and rosary; nay, unknowing +whither her feet were leading her, and with wide blank eyes seeing +nothing but the vision that beckoned her along.--Well, I must wake her +from her slumber or trance.--I called her name, but she did not heed my +voice. + +The Devil put it into my head that I would kiss one handsome young girl +before I died, and now was my chance. She never would know it, and I +should carry the remembrance of it with me into the grave, and a rose +perhaps grow out of my dust, as a brier did out of Lord Lovers, in memory +of that immortal moment! Would it wake her from her trance? and would +she see me in the flush of my stolen triumph, and hate and despise me +ever after? Or should I carry off my trophy undetected, and always from +that time say to myself, when I looked upon her in the glory of youth and +the splendor of beauty, "My lips have touched those roses and made their +sweetness mine forever"? You think my cheek was flushed, perhaps, and my +eyes were glittering with this midnight flash of opportunity. On the +contrary, I believe I was pale, very pale, and I know that I trembled. +Ah, it is the pale passions that are the fiercest,--it is the violence of +the chill that gives the measure of the fever! The fighting-boy of our +school always turned white when he went out to a pitched battle with the +bully of some neighboring village; but we knew what his bloodless cheeks +meant,--the blood was all in his stout heart,--he was a slight boy, and +there was not enough to redden his face and fill his heart both at once. + +Perhaps it is making a good deal of a slight matter, to tell the internal +conflicts in the heart of a quiet person something more than juvenile and +something less than senile, as to whether he should be guilty of an +impropriety, and, if he were, whether he would get caught in his +indiscretion. And yet the memory of the kiss that Margaret of Scotland +gave to Alain Chartier has lasted four hundred years, and put it into the +head of many an ill-favored poet, whether Victoria, or Eugenie, would do +as much by him, if she happened to pass him when he was asleep. And have +we ever forgotten that the fresh cheek of the young John Milton tingled +under the lips of some high-born Italian beauty, who, I believe, did not +think to leave her card by the side of the slumbering youth, but has +bequeathed the memory of her pretty deed to all coming time? The sound +of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a deal +longer. + +There is one disadvantage which the man of philosophical habits of mind +suffers, as compared with the man of action. While he is taking an +enlarged and rational view of the matter before him, he lets his chance +slip through his fingers. Iris woke up, of her own accord, before I had +made up my mind what I was going to do about it. + +When I remember how charmingly she looked, I don't blame myself at all +for being tempted; but if I had been fool enough to yield to the impulse, +I should certainly have been ashamed to tell of it. She did not know +what to make of it, finding herself there alone, in such guise, and me +staring at her. She looked down at her white robe and bare feet, and +colored,--then at the goblet she held in her hand, then at the taper; and +at last her thoughts seemed to clear up. + +I know it all,--she said.--He is going to die, and I must go and sit by +him. Nobody will care for him as I shall, and I have nobody else to care +for. + +I assured her that nothing was needed for him that night but rest, and +persuaded her that the excitement of her presence could only do harm. +Let him sleep, and he would very probably awake better in the morning. +There was nothing to be said, for I spoke with authority; and the young +girl glided away with noiseless step and sought her own chamber. + +The tremor passed away from my limbs, and the blood began to burn in my +cheeks. The beautiful image which had so bewitched me faded gradually +from my imagination, and I returned to the still perplexing mysteries of +my little neighbor's chamber. + +All was still there now. No plaintive sounds, no monotonous murmurs, no +shutting of windows and doors at strange hours, as if something or +somebody were coming in or going out, or there was something to be hidden +in those dark mahogany presses. Is there an inner apartment that I have +not seen? The way in which the house is built might admit of it. As I +thought it over, I at once imagined a Bluebeard's chamber. Suppose, for +instance, that the narrow bookshelves to the right are really only a +masked door, such as we remember leading to the private study of one of +our most distinguished townsmen, who loved to steal away from his stately +library to that little silent cell. If this were lighted from above, a +person or persons might pass their days there without attracting +attention from the household, and wander where they pleased at night,--to +Copp's-Hill burial-ground, if they liked,--I said to myself, laughing, +and pulling the bed-clothes over my head. There is no logic in +superstitious-fancies any more than in dreams. A she-ghost wouldn't want +an inner chamber to herself. A live woman, with a valuable soprano +voice, wouldn't start off at night to sprain her ankles over the old +graves of the North-End cemetery. + +It is all very easy for you, middle-aged reader, sitting over this page +in the broad daylight, to call me by all manner of asinine and anserine +unchristian names, because I had these fancies running through my head. +I don't care much for your abuse. The question is not, what it is +reasonable for a man to think about, but what he actually does think +about, in the dark, and when he is alone, and his whole body seems but +one great nerve of hearing, and he sees the phosphorescent flashes of his +own eyeballs as they turn suddenly in the direction of the last strange +noise,--what he actually does think about, as he lies and recalls all the +wild stories his head is full of, his fancy hinting the most alarming +conjectures to account for the simplest facts about him, his common-sense +laughing them to scorn the next minute, but his mind still returning to +them, under one shape or another, until he gets very nervous and foolish, +and remembers how pleasant it used to be to have his mother come and tuck +him up and go and sit within call, so that she could hear him at any +minute, if he got very much scared and wanted her. Old babies that we +are! + +Daylight will clear up all that lamp-light has left doubtful. I longed +for the morning to come, for I was more curious than ever. So, between my +fancies and anticipations, I had but a poor night of it, and came down +tired to the breakfast-table. My visit was not to be made until after +this morning hour; there was nothing urgent, so the servant was ordered +to tell me. + +It was the first breakfast at which the high chair at the side of Iris +had been unoccupied.--You might jest as well take away that chair,--said +our landlady,--he'll never want it again. He acts like a man that 's +struck with death, 'n' I don't believe he 'll ever come out of his +chamber till he 's laid out and brought down a corpse.--These good women +do put things so plainly! There were two or three words in her short +remark that always sober people, and suggest silence or brief moral +reflections. + +--Life is dreadful uncerting,--said the Poor Relation,--and pulled in her +social tentacles to concentrate her thoughts on this fact of human +history. + +--If there was anything a fellah could do,--said the young man John, so +called,--a fellah 'd like the chance o' helpin' a little cripple like +that. He looks as if he couldn't turn over any handier than a turtle +that's laid on his back; and I guess there a'n't many people that know +how to lift better than I do. Ask him if he don't want any watchers. I +don't mind settin' up any more 'n a cat-owl. I was up all night twice +last month. + +[My private opinion is, that there was no small amount of punch absorbed +on those two occasions, which I think I heard of at the time];--but the +offer is a kind one, and it is n't fair to question how he would like +sitting up without the punch and the company and the songs and smoking. +He means what he says, and it would be a more considerable achievement +for him to sit quietly all night by a sick man than for a good many other +people. I tell you this odd thing: there are a good many persons, who, +through the habit of making other folks uncomfortable, by finding fault +with all their cheerful enjoyments, at last get up a kind of hostility to +comfort in general, even in their own persons. The correlative to loving +our neighbors as ourselves is hating ourselves as we hate our neighbors. +Look at old misers; first they starve their dependants, and then +themselves. So I think it more for a lively young fellow to be ready to +play nurse than for one of those useful but forlorn martyrs who have +taken a spite against themselves and love to gratify it by fasting and +watching. + +--The time came at last for me to make my visit. I found Iris sitting by +the Little Gentleman's pillow. To my disappointment, the room was +darkened. He did not like the light, and would have the shutters kept +nearly closed. It was good enough for me; what business had I to be +indulging my curiosity, when I had nothing to do but to exercise such +skill as I possessed for the benefit of my patient? There was not much +to be said or done in such a case; but I spoke as encouragingly as I +could, as I think we are always bound to do. He did not seem to pay any +very anxious attention, but the poor girl listened as if her own life and +more than her own life were depending on the words I uttered. She +followed me out of the room, when I had got through my visit. + +How long?--she said. + +Uncertain. Any time; to-day,--next week, next month,--I answered.--One +of those cases where the issue is not doubtful, but may be sudden or +slow. + +The women of the house were kind, as women always are in trouble. But +Iris pretended that nobody could spare the time as well as she, and kept +her place, hour after hour, until the landlady insisted that she'd be +killin' herself, if she begun at that rate, 'n' haf to give up, if she +didn't want to be clean beat out in less 'n a week. + +At the table we were graver than common. The high chair was set back +against the wall, and a gap left between that of the young girl and her +nearest neighbor's on the right. But the next morning, to our great +surprise, that good-looking young Marylander had very quietly moved his +own chair to the vacant place. I thought he was creeping down that way, +but I was not prepared for a leap spanning such a tremendous parenthesis +of boarders as this change of position included. There was no denying +that the youth and maiden were a handsome pair, as they sat side by side. +But whatever the young girl may have thought of her new neighbor she +never seemed for a moment to forget the poor little friend who had been +taken from her side. There are women, and even girls, with whom it is of +no use to talk. One might as well reason with a bee as to the form of +his cell, or with an oriole as to the construction of his swinging nest, +as try to stir these creatures from their own way of doing their own +work. It was not a question with Iris, whether she was entitled by any +special relation or by the fitness of things to play the part of a nurse. +She was a wilful creature that must have her way in this matter. And it +so proved that it called for much patience and long endurance to carry +through the duties, say rather the kind offices, the painful pleasures, +which she had chosen as her share in the household where accident had +thrown her. She had that genius of ministration which is the special +province of certain women, marked even among their helpful sisters by a +soft, low voice, a quiet footfall, a light hand, a cheering smile, and a +ready self-surrender to the objects of their care, which such trifles as +their own food, sleep, or habits of any kind never presume to interfere +with. Day after day, and too often through the long watches of the night, +she kept her place by the pillow. + +That girl will kill herself over me, Sir,--said the poor Little Gentleman +to me, one day,--she will kill herself, Sir, if you don't call in all the +resources of your art to get me off as soon as may be. I shall wear her +out, Sir, with sitting in this close chamber and watching when she ought +to be sleeping, if you leave me to the care of Nature without dosing me. + +This was rather strange pleasantry, under the circumstances. But there +are certain persons whose existence is so out of parallel with the larger +laws in the midst of which it is moving, that life becomes to them as +death and death as life.--How am I getting along?--he said, another +morning. He lifted his shrivelled hand, with the death's-head ring on +it, and looked at it with a sad sort of complacency. By this one +movement, which I have seen repeatedly of late, I know that his thoughts +have gone before to another condition, and that he is, as it were, +looking back on the infirmities of the body as accidents of the past. +For, when he was well, one might see him often looking at the handsome +hand with the flaming jewel on one of its fingers. The single +well-shaped limb was the source of that pleasure which in some form or +other Nature almost always grants to her least richly endowed children. +Handsome hair, eyes, complexion, feature, form, hand, foot, pleasant +voice, strength, grace, agility, intelligence,--how few there are that +have not just enough of one at least of these gifts to show them that the +good Mother, busy with her millions of children, has not quite forgotten +them! But now he was thinking of that other state, where, free from all +mortal impediments, the memory of his sorrowful burden should be only as +that of the case he has shed to the insect whose "deep-damasked wings" +beat off the golden dust of the lily-anthers, as he flutters in the +ecstasy of his new life over their full-blown summer glories. + +No human being can rest for any time in a state of equilibrium, where the +desire to live and that to depart just balance each other. If one has a +house, which he has lived and always means to live in, he pleases himself +with the thought of all the conveniences it offers him, and thinks little +of its wants and imperfections. But once having made up his mind to move +to a better, every incommodity starts out upon him, until the very +ground-plan of it seems to have changed in his mind, and his thoughts and +affections, each one of them packing up its little bundle of +circumstances, have quitted their several chambers and nooks and migrated +to the new home, long before its apartments are ready to receive their +coming tenant. It is so with the body. Most persons have died before +they expire,--died to all earthly longings, so that the last breath is +only, as it were, the locking of the door of the already deserted +mansion. The fact of the tranquillity with which the great majority of +dying persons await this locking of those gates of life through which its +airy angels have been going and coming, from the moment of the first cry, +is familiar to those who have been often called upon to witness the last +period of life. Almost always there is a preparation made by Nature for +unearthing a soul, just as on the smaller scale there is for the removal +of a milktooth. The roots which hold human life to earth are absorbed +before it is lifted from its place. Some of the dying are weary and want +rest, the idea of which is almost inseparable in the universal mind from +death. Some are in pain, and want to be rid of it, even though the +anodyne be dropped, as in the legend, from the sword of the Death-Angel. +Some are stupid, mercifully narcotized that they may go to sleep without +long tossing about. And some are strong in faith and hope, so that, as +they draw near the next world, they would fair hurry toward it, as the +caravan moves faster over the sands when the foremost travellers send +word along the file that water is in sight. Though each little party +that follows in a foot-track of its own will have it that the water to +which others think they are hastening is a mirage, not the less has it +been true in all ages and for human beings of every creed which +recognized a future, that those who have fallen worn out by their march +through the Desert have dreamed at least of a River of Life, and thought +they heard its murmurs as they lay dying. + +The change from the clinging to the present to the welcoming of the +future comes very soon, for the most part, after all hope of life is +extinguished, provided this be left in good degree to Nature, and not +insolently and cruelly forced upon those who are attacked by illness, on +the strength of that odious foreknowledge often imparted by science, +before the white fruit whose core is ashes, and which we call death, has +set beneath the pallid and drooping flower of sickness. There is a +singular sagacity very often shown in a patient's estimate of his own +vital force. His physician knows the state of his material frame well +enough, perhaps,--that this or that organ is more or less impaired or +disintegrated; but the patient has a sense that he can hold out so much +longer,--sometimes that he must and will live for a while, though by the +logic of disease he ought to die without any delay. + +The Little Gentleman continued to fail, until it became plain that his +remaining days were few. I told the household what to expect. There was +a good deal of kind feeling expressed among the boarders, in various +modes, according to their characters and style of sympathy. The landlady +was urgent that he should try a certain nostrum which had saved +somebody's life in jest sech a case. The Poor Relation wanted me to +carry, as from her, a copy of "Allein's Alarm," etc. I objected to the +title, reminding her that it offended people of old, so that more than +twice as many of the book were sold when they changed the name to "A Sure +Guide to Heaven." The good old gentleman whom I have mentioned before has +come to the time of life when many old men cry easily, and forget their +tears as children do.--He was a worthy gentleman,--he said,--a very +worthy gentleman, but unfortunate,--very unfortunate. Sadly deformed +about the spine and the feet. Had an impression that the late Lord Byron +had some malformation of this kind. Had heerd there was something the +matter with the ankle-j'ints of that nobleman, but he was a man of +talents. This gentleman seemed to be a man of talents. Could not always +agree with his statements,--thought he was a little over-partial to this +city, and had some free opinions; but was sorry to lose him,--and +if--there was anything--he--could--. In the midst of these kind +expressions, the gentleman with the diamond, the Koh-i-noor, as we called +him, asked, in a very unpleasant sort of way, how the old boy was likely +to cut up,--meaning what money our friend was going to leave behind. + +The young fellow John spoke up, to the effect that this was a diabolish +snobby question, when a man was dying and not dead.--To this the +Koh-i-noor replied, by asking if the other meant to insult him. Whereto +the young man John rejoined that he had no particul'r intentions one way +or t'other.-The Kohi-noor then suggested the young man's stepping out +into the yard, that he, the speaker, might "slap his chops."--Let 'em +alone, said young Maryland,--it 'll soon be over, and they won't hurt +each other much.--So they went out. + +The Koh-i-noor entertained the very common idea, that, when one quarrels +with another, the simple thing to do is to knock the man down, and there +is the end of it. Now those who have watched such encounters are aware +of two things: first, that it is not so easy to knock a man down as it is +to talk about it; secondly, that, if you do happen to knock a man down, +there is a very good chance that he will be angry, and get up and give +you a thrashing. + +So the Koh-i-noor thought he would begin, as soon as they got into the +yard, by knocking his man down, and with this intention swung his arm +round after the fashion of rustics and those unskilled in the noble art, +expecting the young fellow John to drop when his fist, having completed a +quarter of a circle, should come in contact with the side of that young +man's head. Unfortunately for this theory, it happens that a blow struck +out straight is as much shorter, and therefore as much quicker than the +rustic's swinging blow, as the radius is shorter than the quarter of a +circle. The mathematical and mechanical corollary was, that the +Koh-i-noor felt something hard bring up suddenly against his right eye, +which something he could have sworn was a paving-stone, judging by his +sensations; and as this threw his person somewhat backwards, and the +young man John jerked his own head back a little, the swinging blow had +nothing to stop it; and as the Jewel staggered between the hit he got and +the blow he missed, he tripped and "went to grass," so far as the +back-yard of our boardinghouse was provided with that vegetable. It was +a signal illustration of that fatal mistake, so frequent in young and +ardent natures with inconspicuous calves and negative pectorals, that +they can settle most little quarrels on the spot by "knocking the man +down." + +We are in the habit of handling our faces so carefully, that a heavy +blow, taking effect on that portion of the surface, produces a most +unpleasant surprise, which is accompanied with odd sensations, as of +seeing sparks, and a kind of electrical or ozone-like odor, +half-sulphurous in character, and which has given rise to a very vulgar +and profane threat sometimes heard from the lips of bullies. A person +not used to pugilistic gestures does not instantly recover from this +surprise. The Koh-i-noor exasperated by his failure, and still a little +confused by the smart hit he had received, but furious, and confident of +victory over a young fellow a good deal lighter than himself, made a +desperate rush to bear down all before him and finish the contest at +once. That is the way all angry greenhorns and incompetent persons +attempt to settle matters. It does n't do, if the other fellow is only +cool, moderately quick, and has a very little science. It didn't do this +time; for, as the assailant rushed in with his arms flying everywhere, +like the vans of a windmill, he ran a prominent feature of his face +against a fist which was travelling in the other direction, and +immediately after struck the knuckles of the young man's other fist a +severe blow with the part of his person known as the epigastrium to one +branch of science and the bread-basket to another. This second round +closed the battle. The Koh-i-noor had got enough, which in such cases is +more than as good as a feast. The young fellow asked him if he was +satisfied, and held out his hand. But the other sulked, and muttered +something about revenge.--Jest as ye like,--said the young man +John.--Clap a slice o' raw beefsteak on to that mouse o' yours 'n' 't'll +take down the swellin'. (Mouse is a technical term for a bluish, oblong, +rounded elevation occasioned by running one's forehead or eyebrow against +another's knuckles.) The young fellow was particularly pleased that he +had had an opportunity of trying his proficiency in the art of +self-defence without the gloves. The Koh-i-noor did not favor us with +his company for a day or two, being confined to his chamber, it was said, +by a slight feverish, attack. He was chop-fallen always after this, and +got negligent in his person. The impression must have been a deep one; +for it was observed, that, when he came down again, his moustache and +whiskers had turned visibly white about the roots. In short, it +disgraced him, and rendered still more conspicuous a tendency to +drinking, of which he had been for some time suspected. This, and the +disgust which a young lady naturally feels at hearing that her lover has +been "licked by a fellah not half his size," induced the landlady's +daughter to take that decided step which produced a change in the +programme of her career I may hereafter allude to. + +I never thought he would come to good, when I heard him attempting to +sneer at an unoffending city so respectable as Boston. After a man +begins to attack the State-House, when he gets bitter about the +Frog-Pond, you may be sure there is not much left of him. Poor Edgar Poe +died in the hospital soon after he got into this way of talking; and so +sure as you find an unfortunate fellow reduced to this pass, you had +better begin praying for him, and stop lending him money, for he is on +his last legs. Remember poor Edgar! He is dead and gone; but the +State-House has its cupola fresh-gilded, and the Frog-Pond has got a +fountain that squirts up a hundred feet into the air and glorifies that +humble sheet with a fine display of provincial rainbows. + +--I cannot fulfil my promise in this number. I expected to gratify your +curiosity, if you have become at all interested in these puzzles, doubts, +fancies, whims, or whatever you choose to call them, of mine. Next month +you shall hear all about it. + +--It was evening, and I was going to the sick-chamber. As I paused +at the door before entering, I heard a sweet voice singing. It was +not the wild melody I had sometimes heard at midnight:--no, this was +the voice of Iris, and I could distinguish every word. I had seen +the verses in her book; the melody was new to me. Let me finish my +page with them. + + + HYMN OF TRUST. + + O Love Divine, that stooped to share + Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear, + On Thee we cast each earthborn care, + We smile at pain while Thou art near! + + Though long the weary way we tread, + And sorrow crown each lingering year, + No path we shun, no darkness dread, + Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near! + + When drooping pleasure turns to grief, + And trembling faith is changed to fear, + The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf + Shall softly tell us, Thou art near! + + On Thee we fling our burdening woe, + O Love Divine, forever dear, + Content to suffer, while we know, + Living and dying, Thou art near! + + + + +XII + +A young fellow, born of good stock, in one of the more thoroughly +civilized portions of these United States of America, bred in good +principles, inheriting a social position which makes him at his ease +everywhere, means sufficient to educate him thoroughly without taking +away the stimulus to vigorous exertion, and with a good opening in some +honorable path of labor, is the finest sight our private satellite has +had the opportunity of inspecting on the planet to which she belongs. In +some respects it was better to be a young Greek. If we may trust the old +marbles, my friend with his arm stretched over my head, above there, (in +plaster of Paris,) or the discobolus, whom one may see at the principal +sculpture gallery of this metropolis,--those Greek young men were of +supreme beauty. Their close curls, their elegantly set heads, column-like +necks, straight noses, short, curled lips, firm chins, deep chests, light +flanks, large muscles, small joints, were finer than anything we ever +see. It may well be questioned whether the human shape will ever present +itself again in a race of such perfect symmetry. But the life of the +youthful Greek was local, not planetary, like that of the young American. +He had a string of legends, in place of our Gospels. He had no printed +books, no newspaper, no steam caravans, no forks, no soap, none of the +thousand cheap conveniences which have become matters of necessity to our +modern civilization. Above all things, if he aspired to know as well as +to enjoy, he found knowledge not diffused everywhere about him, so that a +day's labor would buy him more wisdom than a year could master, but held +in private hands, hoarded in precious manuscripts, to be sought for only +as gold is sought in narrow fissures, and in the beds of brawling +streams. Never, since man came into this atmosphere of oxygen and azote, +was there anything like the condition of the young American of the +nineteenth century. Having in possession or in prospect the best part of +half a world, with all its climates and soils to choose from; equipped +with wings of fire and smoke than fly with him day and night, so that he +counts his journey not in miles, but in degrees, and sees the seasons +change as the wild fowl sees them in his annual flights; with huge +leviathans always ready to take him on their broad backs and push behind +them with their pectoral or caudal fins the waters that seam the +continent or separate the hemispheres; heir of all old civilizations, +founder of that new one which, if all the prophecies of the human heart +are not lies, is to be the noblest, as it is the last; isolated in space +from the races that are governed by dynasties whose divine right grows +out of human wrong, yet knit into the most absolute solidarity with +mankind of all times and places by the one great thought he inherits as +his national birthright; free to form and express his opinions on almost +every subject, and assured that he will soon acquire the last franchise +which men withhold from man,--that of stating the laws of his spiritual +being and the beliefs he accepts without hindrance except from clearer +views of truth,--he seems to want nothing for a large, wholesome, noble, +beneficent life. In fact, the chief danger is that he will think the +whole planet is made for him, and forget that there are some +possibilities left in the debris of the old-world civilization which +deserve a certain respectful consideration at his hands. + +The combing and clipping of this shaggy wild continent are in some +measure done for him by those who have gone before. Society has +subdivided itself enough to have a place for every form of talent. Thus, +if a man show the least sign of ability as a sculptor or a painter, for +instance, he finds the means of education and a demand for his services. +Even a man who knows nothing but science will be provided for, if he does +not think it necessary to hang about his birthplace all his days,--which +is a most unAmerican weakness. The apron-strings of an American mother +are made of India-rubber. Her boy belongs where he is wanted; and that +young Marylander of ours spoke for all our young men, when he said that +his home was wherever the stars and stripes blew over his head. + +And that leads me to say a few words of this young gentleman, who made +that audacious movement lately which I chronicled in my last +record,--jumping over the seats of I don't know how many boarders to put +himself in the place which the Little Gentleman's absence had left vacant +at the side of Iris. When a young man is found habitually at the side of +any one given young lady,--when he lingers where she stays, and hastens +when she leaves,--when his eyes follow her as she moves and rest upon her +when she is still,--when he begins to grow a little timid, he who was so +bold, and a little pensive, he who was so gay, whenever accident finds +them alone,--when he thinks very often of the given young lady, and +names her very seldom,-- + +What do you say about it, my charming young expert in that sweet science +in which, perhaps, a long experience is not the first of qualifications? + +--But we don't know anything about this young man, except that he is +good-looking, and somewhat high-spirited, and strong-limbed, and has a +generous style of nature,--all very promising, but by no means proving +that he is a proper lover for Iris, whose heart we turned inside out when +we opened that sealed book of hers. + +Ah, my dear young friend! When your mamma then, if you will believe it, +a very slight young lady, with very pretty hair and figure--came and told +her mamma that your papa had--had--asked No, no, no! she could n't say +it; but her mother--oh the depth of maternal sagacity!--guessed it all +without another word!--When your mother, I say, came and told her mother +she was engaged, and your grandmother told your grandfather, how much did +they know of the intimate nature of the young gentleman to whom she had +pledged her existence? I will not be so hard as to ask how much your +respected mamma knew at that time of the intimate nature of your +respected papa, though, if we should compare a young girl's +man-as-she-thinks-him with a forty-summered matron's man-as-she-finds-him, +I have my doubts as to whether the second would be a facsimile of the +first in most cases. + +The idea that in this world each young person is to wait until he or she +finds that precise counterpart who alone of all creation was meant for +him or her, and then fall instantly in love with it, is pretty enough, +only it is not Nature's way. It is not at all essential that all pairs +of human beings should be, as we sometimes say of particular couples, +"born for each other." Sometimes a man or a woman is made a great deal +better and happier in the end for having had to conquer the faults of the +one beloved, and make the fitness not found at first, by gradual +assimilation. There is a class of good women who have no right to marry +perfectly good men, because they have the power of saving those who would +go to ruin but for the guiding providence of a good wife. I have known +many such cases. It is the most momentous question a woman is ever +called upon to decide, whether the faults of the man she loves are beyond +remedy and will drag her down, or whether she is competent to be his +earthly redeemer and lift him to her own level. + +A person of genius should marry a person of character. Genius does not +herd with genius. The musk-deer and the civet-cat are never found in +company. They don't care for strange scents,--they like plain animals +better than perfumed ones. Nay, if you will have the kindness to notice, +Nature has not gifted my lady musk-deer with the personal peculiarity by +which her lord is so widely known. + +Now when genius allies itself with character, the world is very apt to +think character has the best of the bargain. A brilliant woman marries a +plain, manly fellow, with a simple intellectual mechanism;--we have all +seen such cases. The world often stares a good deal and wonders. She +should have taken that other, with a far more complex mental machinery. +She might have had a watch with the philosophical compensation-balance, +with the metaphysical index which can split a second into tenths, with +the musical chime which can turn every quarter of an hour into melody. +She has chosen a plain one, that keeps good time, and that is all. + +Let her alone! She knows what she is about. Genius has an infinitely +deeper reverence for character than character can have for genius. To be +sure, genius gets the world's praise, because its work is a tangible +product, to be bought, or had for nothing. It bribes the common voice to +praise it by presents of speeches, poems, statues, pictures, or whatever +it can please with. Character evolves its best products for home +consumption; but, mind you, it takes a deal more to feed a family for +thirty years than to make a holiday feast for our neighbors once or twice +in our lives. You talk of the fire of genius. Many a blessed woman, who +dies unsung and unremembered, has given out more of the real vital heat +that keeps the life in human souls, without a spark flitting through her +humble chimney to tell the world about it, than would set a dozen +theories smoking, or a hundred odes simmering, in the brains of so many +men of genius. It is in latent caloric, if I may borrow a philosophical +expression, that many of the noblest hearts give out the life that warms +them. Cornelia's lips grow white, and her pulse hardly warms her thin +fingers,--but she has melted all the ice out of the hearts of those young +Gracchi, and her lost heat is in the blood of her youthful heroes. We +are always valuing the soul's temperature by the thermometer of public +deed or word. Yet the great sun himself, when he pours his noonday beams +upon some vast hyaline boulder, rent from the eternal ice-quarries, and +floating toward the tropics, never warms it a fraction above the +thirty-two degrees of Fahrenheit that marked the moment when the first +drop trickled down its side. + +How we all like the spirting up of a fountain, seemingly against the law +that makes water everywhere slide, roll, leap, tumble headlong, to get as +low as the earth will let it! That is genius. But what is this +transient upward movement, which gives us the glitter and the rainbow, to +that unsleeping, all-present force of gravity, the same yesterday, +to-day, and forever, (if the universe be eternal,)--the great outspread +hand of God himself, forcing all things down into their places, and +keeping them there? Such, in smaller proportion, is the force of +character to the fitful movements of genius, as they are or have been +linked to each other in many a household, where one name was historic, +and the other, let me say the nobler, unknown, save by some faint +reflected ray, borrowed from its lustrous companion. + +Oftentimes, as I have lain swinging on the water, in the swell of the +Chelsea ferry-boats, in that long, sharp-pointed, black cradle in which I +love to let the great mother rock me, I have seen a tall ship glide by +against the tide, as if drawn by some invisible towline, with a hundred +strong arms pulling it. Her sails hung unfilled, her streamers were +drooping, she had neither side-wheel nor stern-wheel; still she moved on, +stately, in serene triumph, as if with her own life. But I knew that on +the other side of the ship, hidden beneath the great hulk that swam so +majestically, there was a little toiling steam-tug, with heart of fire +and arms of iron, that was hugging it close and dragging it bravely on; +and I knew, that, if the little steam-tug untwined her arms and left the +tall ship, it would wallow and roll about, and drift hither and thither, +and go off with the refluent tide, no man knows whither. And so I have +known more than one genius, high-decked, full-freighted, wide-sailed, +gay-pennoned, that, but for the bare toiling arms, and brave, warm, +beating heart of the faithful little wife, that nestled close in his +shadow, and clung to him, so that no wind or wave could part them, and +dragged him on against all the tide of circumstance, would soon have gone +down the stream and been heard of no more.--No, I am too much a lover of +genius, I sometimes think, and too often get impatient with dull people, +so that, in their weak talk, where nothing is taken for granted, I look +forward to some future possible state of development, when a gesture +passing between a beatified human soul and an archangel shall signify as +much as the complete history of a planet, from the time when it curdled +to the time when its sun was burned out. And yet, when a strong brain is +weighed with a true heart, it seems to me like balancing a bubble against +a wedge of gold. + +--It takes a very true man to be a fitting companion for a woman of +genius, but not a very great one. I am not sure that she will not +embroider her ideal better on a plain ground than on one with a brilliant +pattern already worked in its texture. But as the very essence of genius +is truthfulness, contact with realities, (which are always ideas behind +shows of form or language,) nothing is so contemptible as falsehood and +pretence in its eyes. Now it is not easy to find a perfectly true woman, +and it is very hard to find a perfectly true man. And a woman of genius, +who has the sagacity to choose such a one as her companion, shows more of +the divine gift in so doing than in her finest talk or her most brilliant +work of letters or of art. + +I have been a good while coming at a secret, for which I wished to +prepare you before telling it. I think there is a kindly feeling growing +up between Iris and our young Marylander. Not that I suppose there is +any distinct understanding between them, but that the affinity which has +drawn him from the remote corner where he sat to the side of the young +girl is quietly bringing their two natures together. Just now she is all +given up to another; but when he no longer calls upon her daily thoughts +and cares, I warn you not to be surprised, if this bud of friendship open +like the evening primrose, with a sound as of a sudden stolen kiss, and +lo! the flower of full-blown love lies unfolded before you. + +And now the days had come for our little friend, whose whims and +weaknesses had interested us, perhaps, as much as his better traits, to +make ready for that long journey which is easier to the cripple than to +the strong man, and on which none enters so willingly as he who has borne +the life-long load of infirmity during his earthly pilgrimage. At this +point, under most circumstances, I would close the doors and draw the +veil of privacy before the chamber where the birth which we call death, +out of life into the unknown world, is working its mystery. But this +friend of ours stood alone in the world, and, as the last act of his life +was mainly in harmony with the rest of its drama, I do not here feel the +force of the objection commonly lying against that death-bed literature +which forms the staple of a certain portion of the press. Let me explain +what I mean, so that my readers may think for themselves a little, before +they accuse me of hasty expressions. + +The Roman Catholic Church has certain formulas for its dying children, to +which almost all of them attach the greatest importance. There is hardly +a criminal so abandoned that he is not anxious to receive the +"consolations of religion" in his last hours. Even if he be senseless, +but still living, I think that the form is gone through with, just as +baptism is administered to the unconscious new-born child. Now we do not +quarrel with these forms. We look with reverence and affection upon all +symbols which give peace and comfort to our fellow-creatures. But the +value of the new-born child's passive consent to the ceremony is null, as +testimony to the truth of a doctrine. The automatic closing of a dying +man's lips on the consecrated wafer proves nothing in favor of the Real +Presence, or any other dogma. And, speaking generally, the evidence of +dying men in favor of any belief is to be received with great caution. + +They commonly tell the truth about their present feelings, no doubt. A +dying man's deposition about anything he knows is good evidence. But it +is of much less consequence what a man thinks and says when he is changed +by pain, weakness, apprehension, than what he thinks when he is truly and +wholly himself. Most murderers die in a very pious frame of mind, +expecting to go to glory at once; yet no man believes he shall meet a +larger average of pirates and cut-throats in the streets of the New +Jerusalem than of honest folks that died in their beds. + +Unfortunately, there has been a very great tendency to make capital of +various kinds out of dying men's speeches. The lies that have been put +into their mouths for this purpose are endless. The prime minister, +whose last breath was spent in scolding his nurse, dies with a +magnificent apothegm on his lips, manufactured by a reporter. Addison +gets up a tableau and utters an admirable sentiment,--or somebody makes +the posthumous dying epigram for him. The incoherent babble of green +fields is translated into the language of stately sentiment. One would +think, all that dying men had to do was to say the prettiest thing they +could,--to make their rhetorical point,--and then bow themselves +politely out of the world. + +Worse than this is the torturing of dying people to get their evidence in +favor of this or that favorite belief. The camp-followers of proselyting +sects have come in at the close of every life where they could get in, to +strip the languishing soul of its thoughts, and carry them off as spoils. +The Roman Catholic or other priest who insists on the reception of his +formula means kindly, we trust, and very commonly succeeds in getting the +acquiescence of the subject of his spiritual surgery, but do not let us +take the testimony of people who are in the worst condition to form +opinions as evidence of the truth or falsehood of that which they accept. +A lame man's opinion of dancing is not good for much. A poor fellow who +can neither eat nor drink, who is sleepless and full of pains, whose +flesh has wasted from him, whose blood is like water, who is gasping for +breath, is not in a condition to judge fairly of human life, which in all +its main adjustments is intended for men in a normal, healthy condition. +It is a remark I have heard from the wise Patriarch of the Medical +Profession among us, that the moral condition of patients with disease +above the great breathing-muscle, the diaphragm, is much more hopeful +than that of patients with disease below it, in the digestive organs. +Many an honest ignorant man has given us pathology when he thought he was +giving us psychology. With this preliminary caution I shall proceed to +the story of the Little Gentleman's leaving us. + +When the divinity-student found that our fellow-boarder was not likely to +remain long with us, he, being a young man of tender conscience and +kindly nature, was not a little exercised on his behalf. It was +undeniable that on several occasions the Little Gentleman had expressed +himself with a good deal of freedom on a class of subjects which, +according to the divinity-student, he had no right to form an opinion +upon. He therefore considered his future welfare in jeopardy. + +The Muggletonian sect have a very odd way of dealing with people. If I, +the Professor, will only give in to the Muggletonian doctrine, there +shall be no question through all that persuasion that I am competent to +judge of that doctrine; nay, I shall be quoted as evidence of its truth, +while I live, and cited, after I am dead, as testimony in its behalf. +But if I utter any ever so slight Anti-Muggletonian sentiment, then I +become incompetent to form any opinion on the matter. This, you cannot +fail to observe, is exactly the way the pseudo-sciences go to work, as +explained in my Lecture on Phrenology. Now I hold that he whose +testimony would be accepted in behalf of the Muggletonian doctrine has a +right to be heard against it. Whoso offers me any article of belief for +my signature implies that I am competent to form an opinion upon it; and +if my positive testimony in its favor is of any value, then my negative +testimony against it is also of value. + +I thought my young friend's attitude was a little too much like that of +the Muggletonians. I also remarked a singular timidity on his part lest +somebody should "unsettle" somebody's faith,--as if faith did not require +exercise as much as any other living thing, and were not all the better +for a shaking up now and then. I don't mean that it would be fair to +bother Bridget, the wild Irish girl, or Joice Heth, the centenarian, or +any other intellectual non-combatant; but all persons who proclaim a +belief which passes judgment on their neighbors must be ready to have it +"unsettled," that is, questioned, at all times and by anybody,--just as +those who set up bars across a thoroughfare must expect to have them +taken down by every one who wants to pass, if he is strong enough. + +Besides, to think of trying to water-proof the American mind against the +questions that Heaven rains down upon it shows a misapprehension of our +new conditions. If to question everything be unlawful and dangerous, we +had better undeclare our independence at once; for what the Declaration +means is the right to question everything, even the truth of its own +fundamental proposition. + +The old-world order of things is an arrangement of locks and canals, +where everything depends on keeping the gates shut, and so holding the +upper waters at their level; but the system under which the young +republican American is born trusts the whole unimpeded tide of life to +the great elemental influences, as the vast rivers of the continent +settle their own level in obedience to the laws that govern the planet +and the spheres that surround it. + +The divinity-student was not quite up to the idea of the commonwealth, as +our young friend the Marylander, for instance, understood it. He could +not get rid of that notion of private property in truth, with the right +to fence it in, and put up a sign-board, thus: + + ALL TRESPASSERS ARE WARNED OFF THESE + GROUNDS! + +He took the young Marylander to task for going to the Church of the +Galileans, where he had several times accompanied Iris of late. + +I am a Churchman,--the young man said,--by education and habit. I love +my old Church for many reasons, but most of all because I think it has +educated me out of its own forms into the spirit of its highest +teachings. I think I belong to the "Broad Church," if any of you can +tell what that means. + +I had the rashness to attempt to answer the question myself.--Some say +the Broad Church means the collective mass of good people of all +denominations. Others say that such a definition is nonsense; that a +church is an organization, and the scattered good folks are no +organization at all. They think that men will eventually come together +on the basis of one or two or more common articles of belief, and form a +great unity. Do they see what this amounts to? It means an equal +division of intellect! It is mental agrarianism! a thing that never was +and never will be until national and individual idiosyncrasies have +ceased to exist. The man of thirty-nine beliefs holds the man of one +belief a pauper; he is not going to give up thirty-eight of them for the +sake of fraternizing with the other in the temple which bears on its +front, "Deo erexit Voltaire." A church is a garden, I have heard it +said, and the illustration was neatly handled. Yes, and there is no such +thing as a broad garden. It must be fenced in, and whatever is fenced in +is narrow. You cannot have arctic and tropical plants growing together +in it, except by the forcing system, which is a mighty narrow piece of +business. You can't make a village or a parish or a family think alike, +yet you suppose that you can make a world pinch its beliefs or pad them +to a single pattern! Why, the very life of an ecclesiastical +organization is a life of induction, a state of perpetually disturbed +equilibrium kept up by another charged body in the neighborhood. If the +two bodies touch and share their respective charges, down goes the index +of the electrometer! + +Do you know that every man has a religious belief peculiar to himself? +Smith is always a Smithite. He takes in exactly Smith's-worth of +knowledge, Smith's-worth of truth, of beauty, of divinity. And Brown has +from time immemorial been trying to burn him, to excommunicate him, to +anonymous-article him, because he did not take in Brown's-worth of +knowledge, truth, beauty, divinity. He cannot do it, any more than a +pint-pot can hold a quart, or a quart-pot be filled by a pint. Iron is +essentially the same everywhere and always; but the sulphate of iron is +never the same as the carbonate of iron. Truth is invariable; but the +Smithate of truth must always differ from the Brownate of truth. + +The wider the intellect, the larger and simpler the expressions in which +its knowledge is embodied. The inferior race, the degraded and enslaved +people, the small-minded individual, live in the details which to larger +minds and more advanced tribes of men reduce themselves to axioms and +laws. As races and individual minds must always differ just as sulphates +and carbonates do, I cannot see ground for expecting the Broad Church to +be founded on any fusion of intellectual beliefs, which of course implies +that those who hold the larger number of doctrines as essential shall +come down to those who hold the smaller number. These doctrines are to +the negative aristocracy what the quarterings of their coats are to the +positive orders of nobility. + +The Broad Church, I think, will never be based on anything that requires +the use of language. Freemasonry gives an idea of such a church, and a +brother is known and cared for in a strange land where no word of his can +be understood. The apostle of this church may be a deaf mute carrying a +cup of cold water to a thirsting fellow-creature. The cup of cold water +does not require to be translated for a foreigner to understand it. I am +afraid the only Broad Church possible is one that has its creed in the +heart, and not in the head,--that we shall know its members by their +fruits, and not by their words. If you say this communion of well-doers +is no church, I can only answer, that all organized bodies have their +limits of size, and that when we find a man a hundred feet high and +thirty feet broad across the shoulders, we will look out for an +organization that shall include all Christendom. + +Some of us do practically recognize a Broad Church and a Narrow Church, +however. The Narrow Church may be seen in the ship's boats of humanity, +in the long boat, in the jolly boat, in the captain's gig, lying off the +poor old vessel, thanking God that they are safe, and reckoning how soon +the hulk containing the mass of their fellow-creatures will go down. The +Broad Church is on board, working hard at the pumps, and very slow to +believe that the ship will be swallowed up with so many poor people in +it, fastened down under the hatches ever since it floated. + +--All this, of course, was nothing but my poor notion about these +matters. I am simply an "outsider," you know; only it doesn't do very +well for a nest of Hingham boxes to talk too much about outsiders and +insiders! + +After this talk of ours, I think these two young people went pretty +regularly to the Church of the Galileans. Still they could not keep away +from the sweet harmonies and rhythmic litanies of Saint Polycarp on the +great Church festival-days; so that, between the two, they were so much +together, that the boarders began to make remarks, and our landlady said +to me, one day, that, though it was noon of her business, them that had +eyes couldn't help seein' that there was somethin' goin', on between them +two young people; she thought the young man was a very likely young man, +though jest what his prospecs was was unbeknown to her; but she thought +he must be doing well, and rather guessed he would be able to take care +of a femily, if he didn't go to takin' a house; for a gentleman and his +wife could board a great deal cheaper than they could keep house;--but +then that girl was nothin' but a child, and wouldn't think of bein' +married this five year. They was good boarders, both of 'em, paid +regular, and was as pooty a couple as she ever laid eyes on. + +--To come back to what I began to speak of before,--the divinity-student +was exercised in his mind about the Little Gentleman, and, in the +kindness of his heart,--for he was a good young man,--and in the strength +of his convictions,--for he took it for granted that he and his crowd +were right, and other folks and their crowd were wrong,--he determined to +bring the Little Gentleman round to his faith before he died, if he +could. So he sent word to the sick man, that he should be pleased to +visit him and have some conversation with him; and received for answer +that he would be welcome. + +The divinity-student made him a visit, therefore and had a somewhat +remarkable interview with him, which I shall briefly relate, without +attempting to justify the positions taken by the Little Gentleman. He +found him weak, but calm. Iris sat silent by his pillow. + +After the usual preliminaries, the divinity-student said; in a kind way, +that he was sorry to find him in failing health, that he felt concerned +for his soul, and was anxious to assist him in making preparations for +the great change awaiting him. + +I thank you, Sir,--said the Little Gentleman, permit me to ask you, what +makes you think I am not ready for it, Sir, and that you can do anything +to help me, Sir? + +I address you only as a fellow-man,--said the divinity-student,--and +therefore a fellow-sinner. + +I am not a man, Sir!--said the Little Gentleman.--I was born into this +world the wreck of a man, and I shall not be judged with a race to which +I do not belong. Look at this!--he said, and held up his withered +arm.--See there!--and he pointed to his misshapen extremities.--Lay your +hand here!--and he laid his own on the region of his misplaced heart.--I +have known nothing of the life of your race. When I first came to my +consciousness, I found myself an object of pity, or a sight to show. The +first strange child I ever remember hid its face and would not come near +me. I was a broken-hearted as well as broken-bodied boy. I grew into +the emotions of ripening youth, and all that I could have loved shrank +from my presence. I became a man in years, and had nothing in common +with manhood but its longings. My life is the dying pang of a worn-out +race, and I shall go down alone into the dust, out of this world of men +and women, without ever knowing the fellowship of the one or the love of +the other. I will not die with a lie rattling in my throat. If another +state of being has anything worse in store for me, I have had a long +apprenticeship to give me strength that I may bear it. I don't believe +it, Sir! I have too much faith for that. God has not left me wholly +without comfort, even here. I love this old place where I was born;--the +heart of the world beats under the three hills of Boston, Sir! I love +this great land, with so many tall men in it, and so many good, noble +women.--His eyes turned to the silent figure by his pillow.--I have +learned to accept meekly what has been allotted to me, but I cannot +honestly say that I think my sin has been greater than my suffering. I +bear the ignorance and the evil-doing of whole generations in my single +person. I never drew a breath of air nor took a step that was not a +punishment for another's fault. I may have had many wrong thoughts, but +I cannot have done many wrong deeds,--for my cage has been a narrow one, +and I have paced it alone. I have looked through the bars and seen the +great world of men busy and happy, but I had no part in their doings. I +have known what it was to dream of the great passions; but since my +mother kissed me before she died, no woman's lips have pressed my +cheek,--nor ever will. + +--The young girl's eyes glittered with a sudden film, and almost without +a thought, but with a warm human instinct that rushed up into her face +with her heart's blood, she bent over and kissed him. It was the +sacrament that washed out the memory of long years of bitterness, and I +should hold it an unworthy thought to defend her. The Little Gentleman +repaid her with the only tear any of us ever saw him shed. + +The divinity-student rose from his place, and, turning away from the sick +man, walked to the other side of the room, where he bowed his head and +was still. All the questions he had meant to ask had faded from his +memory. The tests he had prepared by which to judge of his +fellow-creature's fitness for heaven seemed to have lost their virtue. +He could trust the crippled child of sorrow to the Infinite Parent. The +kiss of the fair-haired girl had been like a sign from heaven, that +angels watched over him whom he was presuming but a moment before to +summon before the tribunal of his private judgment. Shall I pray with +you?--he said, after a pause. A little before he would have said, Shall +I pray for you?--The Christian religion, as taught by its Founder, is +full of sentiment. So we must not blame the divinity-student, if he was +overcome by those yearnings of human sympathy which predominate so much +more in the sermons of the Master than in the writings of his successors, +and which have made the parable of the Prodigal Son the consolation of +mankind, as it has been the stumbling-block of all exclusive doctrines. + +Pray!--said the Little Gentleman. + +The divinity-student prayed, in low, tender tones, + +Iris and the Little Gentleman that God would look on his servant lying +helpless at the feet of his mercy; that He would remember his long years +of bondage in the flesh; that He would deal gently with the bruised reed. +Thou hast visited the sins of the fathers upon this their child. Oh, +turn away from him the penalties of his own transgressions! Thou hast +laid upon him, from infancy, the cross which thy stronger children are +called upon to take up; and now that he is fainting under it, be Thou his +stay, and do Thou succor him that is tempted! Let his manifold +infirmities come between him and Thy judgment; in wrath remember mercy! +If his eyes are not opened to all Thy truth, let Thy compassion lighten +the darkness that rests upon him, even as it came through the word of thy +Son to blind Bartimeus, who sat by the wayside, begging! + +Many more petitions he uttered, but all in the same subdued tone of +tenderness. In the presence of helpless suffering, and in the +fast-darkening shadow of the Destroyer, he forgot all but his Christian +humanity, and cared more about consoling his fellow-man than making a +proselyte of him. + +This was the last prayer to which the Little Gentleman ever listened. +Some change was rapidly coming over him during this last hour of which I +have been speaking. The excitement of pleading his cause before his +self-elected spiritual adviser,--the emotion which overcame him, when the +young girl obeyed the sudden impulse of her feelings and pressed her lips +to his cheek,--the thoughts that mastered him while the divinity-student +poured out his soul for him in prayer, might well hurry on the inevitable +moment. When the divinity-student had uttered his last petition, +commending him to the Father through his Son's intercession, he turned to +look upon him before leaving his chamber. His face was changed.--There +is a language of the human countenance which we all understand without an +interpreter, though the lineaments belong to the rudest savage that ever +stammered in an unknown barbaric dialect. By the stillness of the +sharpened features, by the blankness of the tearless eyes, by the +fixedness of the smileless mouth, by the deadening tints, by the +contracted brow, by the dilating nostril, we know that the soul is soon +to leave its mortal tenement, and is already closing up its windows and +putting out its fires.--Such was the aspect of the face upon which the +divinity-student looked, after the brief silence which followed his +prayer. The change had been rapid, though not that abrupt one which is +liable to happen at any moment in these cases.--The sick man looked +towards him.--Farewell,--he said,--I thank you. Leave me alone with her. + +When the divinity-student had gone, and the Little Gentleman found +himself alone with Iris, he lifted his hand to his neck, and took from +it, suspended by a slender chain, a quaint, antique-looking key,--the +same key I had once seen him holding. He gave this to her, and pointed +to a carved cabinet opposite his bed, one of those that had so attracted +my curious eyes and set me wondering as to what it might contain. + +Open it,--he said,--and light the lamp.--The young girl walked to the +cabinet and unlocked the door. A deep recess appeared, lined with black +velvet, against which stood in white relief an ivory crucifix. A silver +lamp hung over it. She lighted the lamp and came back to the bedside. +The dying man fixed his eyes upon the figure of the dying Saviour.--Give +me your hand, he said; and Iris placed her right hand in his left. So +they remained, until presently his eyes lost their meaning, though they +still remained vacantly fixed upon the white image. Yet he held the +young girl's hand firmly, as if it were leading him through some +deep-shadowed valley and it was all he could cling to. But presently an +involuntary muscular contraction stole over him, and his terrible dying +grasp held the poor girl as if she were wedged in an engine of torture. +She pressed her lips together and sat still. The inexorable hand held +her tighter and tighter, until she felt as if her own slender fingers +would be crushed in its gripe. It was one of the tortures of the +Inquisition she was suffering, and she could not stir from her place. +Then, in her great anguish, she, too, cast her eyes upon that dying +figure, and, looking upon its pierced hands and feet and side and +lacerated forehead, she felt that she also must suffer uncomplaining. In +the moment of her sharpest pain she did not forget the duties of her +under office, but dried the dying man's moist forehead with her +handkerchief, even while the dews of agony were glistening on her own. +How long this lasted she never could tell. Time and thirst are two +things you and I talk about; but the victims whom holy men and righteous +judges used to stretch on their engines knew better what they meant than +you or I!--What is that great bucket of water for? said the Marchioness +de Brinvilliers, before she was placed on the rack.--For you to +drink,--said the torturer to the little woman.--She could not think that +it would take such a flood to quench the fire in her and so keep her +alive for her confession. The torturer knew better than she. + +After a time not to be counted in minutes, as the clock measures, +--without any warning,--there came a swift change of his features; his +face turned white, as the waters whiten when a sudden breath passes over +their still surface; the muscles instantly relaxed, and Iris, released at +once from her care for the sufferer and from his unconscious grasp, fell +senseless, with a feeble cry,--the only utterance of her long agony. + +Perhaps you sometimes wander in through the iron gates of the Copp's Hill +burial-ground. You love to stroll round among the graves that crowd each +other in the thickly peopled soil of that breezy summit. You love to lean +on the freestone slab which lies over the bones of the Mathers,--to read +the epitaph of stout William Clark, "Despiser of Sorry Persons and little +Actions,"--to stand by the stone grave of sturdy Daniel Malcolm and look +upon the splintered slab that tells the old rebel's story,--to kneel by +the triple stone that says how the three Worthylakes, father, mother, and +young daughter, died on the same day and lie buried there; a mystery; the +subject of a moving ballad, by the late BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, as may be seen +in his autobiography, which will explain the secret of the triple +gravestone; though the old philosopher has made a mistake, unless the +stone is wrong. + +Not very far from that you will find a fair mound, of dimensions fit to +hold a well-grown man. I will not tell you the inscription upon the +stone which stands at its head; for I do not wish you to be sure of the +resting-place of one who could not bear to think that he should be known +as a cripple among the dead, after being pointed at so long among the +living. There is one sign, it is true, by which, if you have been a +sagacious reader of these papers, you will at once know it; but I fear +you read carelessly, and must study them more diligently before you will +detect the hint to which I allude. + +The Little Gentleman lies where he longed to lie, among the old names and +the old bones of the old Boston people. At the foot of his resting-place +is the river, alive with the wings and antennae of its colossal +water-insects; over opposite are the great war-ships, and the heavy guns, +which, when they roar, shake the soil in which he lies; and in the +steeple of Christ Church, hard by, are the sweet chimes which are the +Boston boy's Ranz des Vaches, whose echoes follow him all the world over. + + In Pace! + +I, told you a good while ago that the Little Gentleman could not do a +better thing than to leave all his money, whatever it might be, to the +young girl who has since that established such a claim upon him. He did +not, however. A considerable bequest to one of our public institutions +keeps his name in grateful remembrance. The telescope through which he +was fond of watching the heavenly bodies, and the movements of which had +been the source of such odd fancies on my part, is now the property of a +Western College. You smile as you think of my taking it for a fleshless +human figure, when I saw its tube pointing to the sky, and thought it was +an arm, under the white drapery thrown over it for protection. So do I +smile now; I belong to the numerous class who are prophets after the +fact, and hold my nightmares very cheap by daylight. + +I have received many letters of inquiry as to the sound resembling a +woman's voice, which occasioned me so many perplexities. Some thought +there was no question that he had a second apartment, in which he had +made an asylum for a deranged female relative. Others were of opinion +that he was, as I once suggested, a "Bluebeard" with patriarchal +tendencies, and I have even been censured for introducing so Oriental an +element into my record of boarding-house experience. + +Come in and see me, the Professor, some evening when I have nothing else +to do, and ask me to play you Tartini's Devil's Sonata on that +extraordinary instrument in my possession, well known to amateurs as one +of the masterpieces of Joseph Guarnerius. The vox humana of the great +Haerlem organ is very lifelike, and the same stop in the organ of the +Cambridge chapel might be mistaken in some of its tones for a human +voice; but I think you never heard anything come so near the cry of a +prima donna as the A string and the E string of this instrument. A +single fact will illustrate the resemblance. I was executing some tours +de force upon it one evening, when the policeman of our district rang the +bell sharply, and asked what was the matter in the house. He had heard a +woman's screams,--he was sure of it. I had to make the instrument sing +before his eyes before he could be satisfied that he had not heard the +cries of a woman. The instrument was bequeathed to me by the Little +Gentleman. Whether it had anything to do with the sounds I heard coming +from his chamber, you can form your own opinion;--I have no other +conjecture to offer. It is not true that a second apartment with a +secret entrance was found; and the story of the veiled lady is the +invention of one of the Reporters. + +Bridget, the housemaid, always insisted that he died a Catholic. She had +seen the crucifix, and believed that he prayed on his knees before it. +The last circumstance is very probably true; indeed, there was a spot +worn on the carpet just before this cabinet which might be thus accounted +for. Why he, whose whole life was a crucifixion, should not love to look +on that divine image of blameless suffering, I cannot see; on the +contrary, it seems to me the most natural thing in the world that he +should. But there are those who want to make private property of +everything, and can't make up their minds that people who don't think as +they do should claim any interest in that infinite compassion expressed +in the central figure of the Christendom which includes us all. + +The divinity-student expressed a hope before the boarders that he should +meet him in heaven.--The question is, whether he'll meet you,--said the +young fellow John, rather smartly. The divinity-student had n't thought +of that. + +However, he is a worthy young man, and I trust I have shown him in a +kindly and respectful light. He will get a parish by-and-by; and, as he +is about to marry the sister of an old friend,--the Schoolmistress, whom +some of us remember,--and as all sorts of expensive accidents happen to +young married ministers, he will be under bonds to the amount of his +salary, which means starvation, if they are forfeited, to think all his +days as he thought when he was settled,--unless the majority of his +people change with him or in advance of him. A hard ease, to which +nothing could reconcile a man, except that the faithful discharge of +daily duties in his personal relations with his parishioners will make +him useful enough in his way, though as a thinker he may cease to exist +before he has reached middle age. + +--Iris went into mourning for the Little Gentleman. Although, as I have +said, he left the bulk of his property, by will, to a public institution, +he added a codicil, by which he disposed of various pieces of property as +tokens of kind remembrance. It was in this way I became the possessor of +the wonderful instrument I have spoken of, which had been purchased for +him out of an Italian convent. The landlady was comforted with a small +legacy. The following extract relates to Iris: "in consideration of her +manifold acts of kindness, but only in token of grateful remembrance, and +by no means as a reward for services which cannot be compensated, a +certain messuage, with all the land thereto appertaining, situated in +______ Street, at the North End, so called, of Boston, aforesaid, the +same being the house in which I was born, but now inhabited by several +families, and known as 'The Rookery.'" Iris had also the crucifix, the +portrait, and the red-jewelled ring. The funeral or death's-head ring +was buried with him. + +It was a good while, after the Little Gentleman was gone, before our +boarding-house recovered its wonted cheerfulness. There was a flavor in +his whims and local prejudices that we liked, even while we smiled at +them. It was hard to see the tall chair thrust away among useless +lumber, to dismantle his room, to take down the picture of Leah, the +handsome Witch of Essex, to move away the massive shelves that held the +books he loved, to pack up the tube through which he used to study the +silent stars, looking down at him like the eyes of dumb creatures, with a +kind of stupid half-consciousness that did not worry him as did the eyes +of men and women,--and hardest of all to displace that sacred figure to +which his heart had always turned and found refuge, in the feelings it +inspired, from all the perplexities of his busy brain. It was hard, but +it had to be done. + +And by-and-by we grew cheerful again, and the breakfast-table wore +something of its old look. The Koh-i-noor, as we named the gentleman +with the diamond, left us, however, soon after that "little mill," as the +young fellow John called it, where he came off second best. His +departure was no doubt hastened by a note from the landlady's daughter, +inclosing a lock of purple hair which she "had valued as a pledge of +affection, ere she knew the hollowness of the vows he had breathed," +speedily followed by another, inclosing the landlady's bill. The next +morning he was missing, as were his limited wardrobe and the trunk that +held it. Three empty bottles of Mrs. Allen's celebrated preparation, +each of them asserting, on its word of honor as a bottle, that its former +contents were "not a dye," were all that was left to us of the +Koh-i-noor. + +From this time forward, the landlady's daughter manifested a decided +improvement in her style of carrying herself before the boarders. She +abolished the odious little flat, gummy side-curl. She left off various +articles of "jewelry." She began to help her mother in some of her +household duties. She became a regular attendant on the ministrations of +a very worthy clergyman, having been attracted to his meetin' by +witnessing a marriage ceremony in which he called a man and a woman a +"gentleman" and a "lady,"--a stroke of gentility which quite overcame +her. She even took a part in what she called a Sabbath school, though it +was held on Sunday, and by no means on Saturday, as the name she intended +to utter implied. All this, which was very sincere, as I believe, on her +part, and attended with a great improvement in her character, ended in +her bringing home a young man, with straight, sandy hair, brushed so as +to stand up steeply above his forehead, wearing a pair of green +spectacles, and dressed in black broadcloth. His personal aspect, and a +certain solemnity of countenance, led me to think he must be a clergyman; +and as Master Benjamin Franklin blurted out before several of us +boarders, one day, that "Sis had got a beau," I was pleased at the +prospect of her becoming a minister's wife. On inquiry, however, I found +that the somewhat solemn look which I had noticed was indeed a +professional one, but not clerical. He was a young undertaker, who had +just succeeded to a thriving business. Things, I believe, are going on +well at this time of writing, and I am glad for the landlady's daughter +and her mother. Sextons and undertakers are the cheerfullest people in +the world at home, as comedians and circus-clowns are the most melancholy +in their domestic circle. + +As our old boarding-house is still in existence, I do not feel at liberty +to give too minute a statement of the present condition of each and all +of its inmates. I am happy to say, however, that they are all alive and +well, up to this time. That amiable old gentleman who sat opposite to me +is growing older, as old men will, but still smiles benignantly on all +the boarders, and has come to be a kind of father to all of them,--so +that on his birthday there is always something like a family festival. +The Poor Relation, even, has warmed into a filial feeling towards him, +and on his last birthday made him a beautiful present, namely, a very +handsomely bound copy of Blair's celebrated poem, "The Grave." + +The young man John is still, as he says, "in fustrate fettle." I saw him +spar, not long since, at a private exhibition, and do himself great +credit in a set-to with Henry Finnegass, Esq., a professional gentleman +of celebrity. I am pleased to say that he has been promoted to an upper +clerkship, and, in consequence of his rise in office, has taken an +apartment somewhat lower down than number "forty-'leven," as he +facetiously called his attic. Whether there is any truth, or not, in the +story of his attachment to, and favorable reception by, the daughter of +the head of an extensive wholesale grocer's establishment, I will not +venture an opinion; I may say, however, that I have met him repeatedly in +company with a very well-nourished and high-colored young lady, who, I +understand, is the daughter of the house in question. + +Some of the boarders were of opinion that Iris did not return the +undisguised attentions of the handsome young Marylander. Instead of +fixing her eyes steadily on him, as she used to look upon the Little +Gentleman, she would turn them away, as if to avoid his own. They often +went to church together, it is true; but nobody, of course, supposes +there is any relation between religious sympathy and those wretched +"sentimental" movements of the human heart upon which it is commonly +agreed that nothing better is based than society, civilization, +friendship, the relation of husband and wife, and of parent and child, +and which many people must think were singularly overrated by the Teacher +of Nazareth, whose whole life, as I said before, was full of sentiment, +loving this or that young man, pardoning this or that sinner, weeping +over the dead, mourning for the doomed city, blessing, and perhaps +kissing, the little children, so that the Gospels are still cried over +almost as often as the last work of fiction! + +But one fine June morning there rumbled up to the door of our +boarding-house a hack containing a lady inside and a trunk on the +outside. It was our friend the lady-patroness of Miss Iris, the same who +had been called by her admiring pastor "The Model of all the Virtues." +Once a week she had written a letter, in a rather formal hand, but full +of good advice, to her young charge. And now she had come to carry her +away, thinking that she had learned all she was likely to learn under her +present course of teaching. The Model, however, was to stay awhile,--a +week, or more,--before they should leave together. + +Iris was obedient, as she was bound to be. She was respectful, grateful, +as a child is with a just, but not tender parent. Yet something was +wrong. She had one of her trances, and became statue-like, as before, +only the day after the Model's arrival. She was wan and silent, tasted +nothing at table, smiled as if by a forced effort, and often looked +vaguely away from those who were looking at her, her eyes just glazed +with the shining moisture of a tear that must not be allowed to gather +and fall. Was it grief at parting from the place where her strange +friendship had grown up with the Little Gentleman? Yet she seemed to +have become reconciled to his loss, and rather to have a deep feeling of +gratitude that she had been permitted to care for him in his last weary +days. + +The Sunday after the Model's arrival, that lady had an attack of +headache, and was obliged to shut herself up in a darkened room alone. +Our two young friends took the opportunity to go together to the Church +of the Galileans. They said but little going,--"collecting their +thoughts" for the service, I devoutly hope. My kind good friend the +pastor preached that day one of his sermons that make us all feel like +brothers and sisters, and his text was that affectionate one from John, +"My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in +deed and in truth." When Iris and her friend came out of church, they +were both pale, and walked a space without speaking. + +At last the young man said,--You and I are not little children, Iris! + +She looked in his face an instant, as if startled, for there was +something strange in the tone of his voice. She smiled faintly, but +spoke never a word. + +In deed and in truth, Iris,---- + +What shall a poor girl say or do, when a strong man falters in his speech +before her, and can do nothing better than hold out his hand to finish +his broken sentence? + +The poor girl said nothing, but quietly laid her ungloved hand in +his,--the little soft white hand which had ministered so tenderly and +suffered so patiently. + +The blood came back to the young man's cheeks, as he lifted it to his +lips, even as they walked there in the street, touched it gently with +them, and said, "It is mine!" + +Iris did not contradict him. + +The seasons pass by so rapidly, that I am startled to think how much has +happened since these events I was describing. Those two young people +would insist on having their own way about their own affairs, +notwithstanding the good lady, so justly called the Model, insisted that +the age of twenty-five years was as early as any discreet young lady +should think of incurring the responsibilities, etc., etc. Long before +Iris had reached that age, she was the wife of a young Maryland engineer, +directing some of the vast constructions of his native State,--where he +was growing rich fast enough to be able to decline that famous Russian +offer which would have made him a kind of nabob in a few years. Iris +does not write verse often, nowadays, but she sometimes draws. The last +sketch of hers I have seen in my Southern visits was of two children, a +boy and girl, the youngest holding a silver goblet, like the one she held +that evening when I--I was so struck with her statue-like beauty. If in +the later, summer months you find the grass marked with footsteps around +that grave on Copp's Hill I told you of, and flowers scattered over it, +you may be sure that Iris is here on her annual visit to the home of her +childhood and that excellent lady whose only fault was, that Nature had +written out her list of virtues an ruled paper, and forgotten to rub out +the lines. + +One thing more I must mention. Being on the Common, last Sunday, I was +attracted by the cheerful spectacle of a well-dressed and somewhat +youthful papa wheeling a very elegant little carriage containing a stout +baby. A buxom young lady watched them from one of the stone seats, with +an interest which could be nothing less than maternal. I at once +recognized my old friend, the young fellow whom we called John. He was +delighted to see me, introduced me to "Madam," and would have the lusty +infant out of the carriage, and hold him up for me to look at. + +Now, then,--he said to the two-year-old,--show the gentleman how you hit +from the shoulder. Whereupon the little imp pushed his fat fist straight +into my eye, to his father's intense satisfaction. + +Fust-rate little chap,--said the papa.--Chip of the old block. Regl'r +little Johnny, you know. + +I was so much pleased to find the young fellow settled in life, and +pushing about one of "them little articles" he had seemed to want so +much, that I took my "punishment" at the hands of the infant pugilist +with great equanimity.--And how is the old boarding-house?--I asked. + +A 1,--he answered.--Painted and papered as good as new. Gabs in all the +rooms up to the skyparlors. Old woman's layin' up money, they say. +Means to send Ben Franklin to college. Just then the first bell rang for +church, and my friend, who, I understand, has become a most exemplary +member of society, said he must be off to get ready for meetin', and told +the young one to "shake dada," which he did with his closed fist, in a +somewhat menacing manner. And so the young man John, as we used to call +him, took the pole of the miniature carriage, and pushed the small +pugilist before him homewards, followed, in a somewhat leisurely way, by +his pleasant-looking lady-companion, and I sent a sigh and a smile after +him. + +That evening, as soon as it was dark, I could not help going round by the +old boarding-house. The "gahs" was lighted, but the curtains, or more +properly, the painted shades; were not down. And so I stood there and +looked in along the table where the boarders sat at the evening +meal,--our old breakfast-table, which some of us feel as if we knew so +well. There were new faces at it, but also old and familiar ones.--The +landlady, in a wonderfully smart cap, looking young, comparatively +speaking, and as if half the wrinkles had been ironed out of her +forehead.--Her daughter, in rather dressy half-mourning, with a vast +brooch of jet, got up, apparently, to match the gentleman next her, who +was in black costume and sandy hair,--the last rising straight from his +forehead, like the marble flame one sometimes sees at the top of a +funeral urn.--The Poor Relation, not in absolute black, but in a stuff +with specks of white; as much as to say, that, if there were any more +Hirams left to sigh for her, there were pin-holes in the night of her +despair, through which a ray of hope might find its way to an adorer. +--Master Benjamin Franklin, grown taller of late, was in the act of +splitting his face open with a wedge of pie, so that his features were +seen to disadvantage for the moment.--The good old gentleman was sitting +still and thoughtful. All at once he turned his face toward the window +where I stood, and, just as if he had seen me, smiled his benignant +smile. It was a recollection of some past pleasant moment; but it fell +upon me like the blessing of a father. + +I kissed my hand to them all, unseen as I stood in the outer darkness; +and as I turned and went my way, the table and all around it faded into +the realm of twilight shadows and of midnight dreams. + + --------------------- + +And so my year's record is finished. The Professor has talked less than +his predecessor, but he has heard and seen more. Thanks to all those +friends who from time to time have sent their messages of kindly +recognition and fellow-feeling! Peace to all such as may have been vexed +in spirit by any utterance these pages have repeated! They will, +doubtless, forget for the moment the difference in the hues of truth we +look at through our human prisms, and join in singing (inwardly) this +hymn to the Source of the light we all need to lead us, and the warmth +which alone can make us all brothers. + + + A SUN-DAY HYMN. + + Lord of all being! throned afar, + Thy glory flames from sun and star, + Centre and soul of every sphere, + Yet to each loving heart how near! + + Sun of our life, thy quickening ray + Sheds on our path the glow of day; + Star of our hope, thy softened light + Cheers the long watches of the night. + + Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn; + Our noontide is thy gracious dawn; + Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign; + All, save the clouds of sin, are thine! + + Lord of all life, below, above, + Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love, + Before thy ever-blazing throne + We ask no lustre of our own. + + Grant us thy truth to make us free, + And kindling hearts that burn for thee, + Till all thy living altars claim + One holy light, one heavenly flame. + One holy light, one heavenly flame. + + + + + + +THE POET AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE + +by Oliver Wendell Holmes + + + +PREFACE. + +In this, the third series of Breakfast-Table conversations, a slight +dramatic background shows off a few talkers and writers, aided by certain +silent supernumeraries. The machinery is much like that of the two +preceding series. Some of the characters must seem like old +acquaintances to those who have read the former papers. As I read these +over for the first time for a number of years, I notice one character; +presenting a class of beings who have greatly multiplied during the +interval which separates the earlier and later Breakfast-Table papers,--I +mean the scientific specialists. The entomologist, who confines himself +rigidly to the study of the coleoptera, is intended to typify this class. +The subdivision of labor, which, as we used to be told, required fourteen +different workmen to make a single pin, has reached all branches of +knowledge. We find new terms in all the Professions, implying that +special provinces have been marked off, each having its own school of +students. In theology we have many curious subdivisions; among the rest +eschatology, that is to say, the geography, geology, etc., of the +"undiscovered country;" in medicine, if the surgeon who deals with +dislocations of the right shoulder declines to meddle with a displacement +on the other side, we are not surprised, but ring the bell of the +practitioner who devotes himself to injuries of the left shoulder. + +On the other hand, we have had or have the encyclopaedic intelligences +like Cuvier, Buckle, and more emphatically Herbert Spencer, who take all +knowledge, or large fields of it, to be their province. The author of +"Thoughts on the Universe" has something in common with these, but he +appears also to have a good deal about him of what we call the humorist; +that is, an individual with a somewhat heterogeneous personality, in +which various distinctly human elements are mixed together, so as to form +a kind of coherent and sometimes pleasing whole, which is to a +symmetrical character as a breccia is to a mosaic. + +As for the Young Astronomer, his rhythmical discourse may be taken as +expressing the reaction of what some would call "the natural man" against +the unnatural beliefs which he found in that lower world to which he +descended by day from his midnight home in the firmament. + +I have endeavored to give fair play to the protest of gentle and +reverential conservatism in the letter of the Lady, which was not copied +from, but suggested by, one which I received long ago from a lady bearing +an honored name, and which I read thoughtfully and with profound respect. + +December, 1882. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION. + +It is now nearly twenty years since this book was published. Being the +third of the Breakfast-Table series, it could hardly be expected to +attract so much attention as the earlier volumes. Still, I had no reason +to be disappointed with its reception. It took its place with the +others, and was in some points a clearer exposition of my views and +feelings than either of the other books, its predecessors. The poems +"Homesick in Heaven" and the longer group of passages coming from the +midnight reveries of the Young Astronomer have thoughts in them not so +fully expressed elsewhere in my writings. + +The first of these two poems is at war with our common modes of thought. +In looking forward to rejoining in a future state those whom we have +loved on earth,--as most of us hope and many of us believe we shall,--we +are apt to forget that the same individuality is remembered by one +relative as a babe, by another as an adult in the strength of maturity, +and by a third as a wreck with little left except its infirmities and its +affections. The main thought of this poem is a painful one to some +persons. They have so closely associated life with its accidents that +they expect to see their departed friends in the costume of the time in +which they best remember them, and feel as if they should meet the spirit +of their grandfather with his wig and cane, as they habitually recall him +to memory. + +The process of scientific specialization referred to and illustrated in +this record has been going on more actively than ever during these last +twenty years. We have only to look over the lists of the Faculties and +teachers of our Universities to see the subdivision of labor carried out +as never before. The movement is irresistible; it brings with it +exactness, exhaustive knowledge, a narrow but complete self-satisfaction, +with such accompanying faults as pedantry, triviality, and the kind of +partial blindness which belong to intellectual myopia. The specialist is +idealized almost into sublimity in Browning's "Burial of the Grammarian." +We never need fear that he will undervalue himself. To be the supreme +authority on anything is a satisfaction to self-love next door to the +precious delusions of dementia. I have never pictured a character more +contented with himself than the "Scarabee" of this story. + +BEVERLY FARMS, MASS., August 1, 1891. +O. W. H. + + THE POET + + AT THE + + BREAKFAST-TABLE. +I + +The idea of a man's "interviewing" himself is rather odd, to be sure. But +then that is what we are all of us doing every day. I talk half the time +to find out my own thoughts, as a school-boy turns his pockets inside out +to see what is in them. One brings to light all sorts of personal +property he had forgotten in his inventory. + +--You don't know what your thoughts are going to be beforehand? said the +"Member of the Haouse," as he calls himself. + +--Why, of course I don't. Bless your honest legislative soul, I suppose +I have as many bound volumes of notions of one kind and another in my +head as you have in your Representatives' library up there at the State +House. I have to tumble them over and over, and open them in a hundred +places, and sometimes cut the leaves here and there, to find what I think +about this and that. And a good many people who flatter themselves they +are talking wisdom to me, are only helping me to get at the shelf and the +book and the page where I shall find my own opinion about the matter in +question. + +--The Member's eyes began to look heavy. + +--It 's a very queer place, that receptacle a man fetches his talk out +of. The library comparison does n't exactly hit it. You stow away some +idea and don't want it, say for ten years. When it turns up at last it +has got so jammed and crushed out of shape by the other ideas packed with +it, that it is no more like what it was than a raisin is like a grape on +the vine, or a fig from a drum like one hanging on the tree. Then, +again, some kinds of thoughts breed in the dark of one's mind like the +blind fishes in the Mammoth Cave. We can't see them and they can't see +us; but sooner or later the daylight gets in and we find that some cold, +fishy little negative has been spawning all over our beliefs, and the +brood of blind questions it has given birth to are burrowing round and +under and butting their blunt noses against the pillars of faith we +thought the whole world might lean on. And then, again, some of our old +beliefs are dying out every year, and others feed on them and grow fat, +or get poisoned as the case may be. And so, you see, you can't tell what +the thoughts are that you have got salted down, as one may say, till you +run a streak of talk through them, as the market people run a butterscoop +through a firkin. + +Don't talk, thinking you are going to find out your neighbor, for you +won't do it, but talk to find out yourself. There is more of you--and +less of you, in spots, very likely--than you know. + +--The Member gave a slight but unequivocal start just here. It does seem +as if perpetual somnolence was the price of listening to other people's +wisdom. This was one of those transient nightmares that one may have in +a doze of twenty seconds. He thought a certain imaginary Committee of +Safety of a certain imaginary Legislature was proceeding to burn down his +haystack, in accordance with an Act, entitled an Act to make the Poor +Richer by making the Rich Poorer. And the chairman of the committee was +instituting a forcible exchange of hats with him, to his manifest +disadvantage, for he had just bought him a new beaver. He told this +dream afterwards to one of the boarders. + +There was nothing very surprising, therefore, in his asking a question +not very closely related to what had gone before. + +--Do you think they mean business? + +--I beg your pardon, but it would be of material assistance to me in +answering your question if I knew who "they" might happen to be. + +--Why, those chaps that are setting folks on to burn us all up in our +beds. Political firebugs we call 'em up our way. Want to substitoot the +match-box for the ballot-box. Scare all our old women half to death. + +--Oh--ah--yes--to be sure. I don't believe they say what the papers put +in their mouths any more than that a friend of mine wrote the letter +about Worcester's and Webster's Dictionaries, that he had to disown the +other day. These newspaper fellows are half asleep when they make up +their reports at two or three o'clock in the morning, and fill out the +speeches to suit themselves. I do remember some things that sounded +pretty bad,--about as bad as nitro-glycerine, for that matter. But I +don't believe they ever said 'em, when they spoke their pieces, or if +they said 'em I know they did n't mean 'em. Something like this, wasn't +it? If the majority didn't do something the minority wanted 'em to, then +the people were to burn up our cities, and knock us down and jump on our +stomachs. That was about the kind of talk, as the papers had it; I don't +wonder it scared the old women. + +--The Member was wide awake by this time. + +--I don't seem to remember of them partickler phrases, he said. + +--Dear me, no; only levelling everything smack, and trampling us under +foot, as the reporters made it out. That means FIRE, I take it, and +knocking you down and stamping on you, whichever side of your person +happens to be uppermost. Sounded like a threat; meant, of course, for a +warning. But I don't believe it was in the piece as they spoke +it,--could n't have been. Then, again, Paris wasn't to blame,--as much +as to say--so the old women thought--that New York or Boston would n't be +to blame if it did the same thing. I've heard of political gatherings +where they barbecued an ox, but I can't think there 's a party in this +country that wants to barbecue a city. But it is n't quite fair to +frighten the old women. I don't doubt there are a great many people +wiser than I am that would n't be hurt by a hint I am going to give them. +It's no matter what you say when you talk to yourself, but when you talk +to other people, your business is to use words with reference to the way +in which those other people are like to understand them. These pretended +inflammatory speeches, so reported as to seem full of combustibles, even +if they were as threatening as they have been represented, would do no +harm if read or declaimed in a man's study to his books, or by the +sea-shore to the waves. But they are not so wholesome moral +entertainment for the dangerous classes. Boys must not touch off their +squibs and crackers too near the powder-magazine. This kind of speech +does n't help on the millennium much. + +--It ain't jest the thing to grease your ex with ile o' vitrul, said the +Member. + +--No, the wheel of progress will soon stick fast if you do. You can't +keep a dead level long, if you burn everything down flat to make it. +Why, bless your soul, if all the cities of the world were reduced ashes, +you'd have a new set of millionnaires in a couple of years or so, out of +the trade in potash. In the mean time, what is the use of setting the +man with the silver watch against the man with the gold watch, and the +man without any watch against them both? + +--You can't go agin human natur', said the Member + +--You speak truly. Here we are travelling through desert together like +the children of Israel. Some pick up more manna and catch more quails +than others and ought to help their hungry neighbors more than they do; +that will always be so until we come back to primitive Christianity, the +road to which does not seem to be via Paris, just now; but we don't want +the incendiary's pillar of a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night +to lead us in the march to civilization, and we don't want a Moses who +will smite rock, not to bring out water for our thirst, but petroleum to +burn us all up with. + +--It is n't quite fair to run an opposition to the other funny speaker, +Rev. Petroleum V. What 's-his-name,--spoke up an anonymous boarder. + +--You may have been thinking, perhaps, that it was I,--I, the Poet, who +was the chief talker in the one-sided dialogue to which you have been +listening. If so, you were mistaken. It was the old man in the +spectacles with large round glasses and the iron-gray hair. He does a +good deal of the talking at our table, and, to tell the truth, I rather +like to hear him. He stirs me up, and finds me occupation in various +ways, and especially, because he has good solid prejudices, that one can +rub against, and so get up and let off a superficial intellectual +irritation, just as the cattle rub their backs against a rail (you +remember Sydney Smith's contrivance in his pasture) or their sides +against an apple-tree (I don't know why they take to these so +particularly, but you will often find the trunk of an apple-tree as brown +and smooth as an old saddle at the height of a cow's ribs). I think they +begin rubbing in cold blood, and then, you know, l'appetit vient en +mangeant, the more they rub the more they want to. That is the way to use +your friend's prejudices. This is a sturdy-looking personage of a good +deal more than middle age, his face marked with strong manly furrows, +records of hard thinking and square stand-up fights with life and all its +devils. There is a slight touch of satire in his discourse now and then, +and an odd way of answering one that makes it hard to guess how much more +or less he means than he seems to say. But he is honest, and always has +a twinkle in his eye to put you on your guard when he does not mean to be +taken quite literally. I think old Ben Franklin had just that look. I +know his great-grandson (in pace!) had it, and I don't doubt he took it +in the straight line of descent, as he did his grand intellect. + +The Member of the Haouse evidently comes from one of the lesser inland +centres of civilization, where the flora is rich in checkerberries and +similar bounties of nature, and the fauna lively with squirrels, +wood-chucks, and the like; where the leading sportsmen snare patridges, +as they are called, and "hunt" foxes with guns; where rabbits are +entrapped in "figgery fours," and trout captured with the unpretentious +earth-worm, instead of the gorgeous fly; where they bet prizes for butter +and cheese, and rag-carpets executed by ladies more than seventy years of +age; where whey wear dress-coats before dinner, and cock their hats on +one side when they feel conspicuous and distinshed; where they say--Sir +to you in their common talk and have other Arcadian and bucolic ways +which are highly unobjectionable, but are not so much admired in cities, +where the people are said to be not half so virtuous. + +There is with us a boy of modest dimensions, not otherwise especially +entitled to the epithet, who ought be six or seven years old, to judge by +the gap left by his front milk teeth, these having resigned in favor of +their successors, who have not yet presented their credentials. He is +rather old for an enfant terrible, and quite too young to have grown into +the bashfulness of adolescence; but he has some of the qualities of both +these engaging periods of development, The member of the Haouse calls him +"Bub," invariably, such term I take to be an abbreviation of "Beelzeb," +as "bus" is the short form of "omnibus." Many eminently genteel persons, +whose manners make them at home anywhere, being evidently unaware of true +derivation of this word, are in the habit of addressing all unknown +children by one of the two terms, "bub" and "sis," which they consider +endears them greatly to the young people, and recommends them to the +acquaintance of their honored parents, if these happen to accompany them. +The other boarders commonly call our diminutive companion That Boy. He +is a sort of expletive at the table, serving to stop gaps, taking the +same place a washer does that makes a loose screw fit, and contriving to +get driven in like a wedge between any two chairs where there is a +crevice. I shall not call that boy by the monosyllable referred to, +because, though he has many impish traits at present, he may become +civilized and humanized by being in good company. Besides, it is a term +which I understand is considered vulgar by the nobility and gentry of the +Mother Country, and it is not to be found in Mr. Worcester's Dictionary, +on which, as is well known, the literary men of this metropolis are by +special statute allowed to be sworn in place of the Bible. I know one, +certainly, who never takes his oath on any other dictionary, any +advertising fiction to the contrary, notwithstanding. + +I wanted to write out my account of some of the other boarders, but a +domestic occurrence--a somewhat prolonged visit from the landlady, who is +rather too anxious that I should be comfortable broke in upon the +continuity of my thoughts, and occasioned--in short, I gave up writing +for that day. + +--I wonder if anything like this ever happened. Author writing, jacks?" + + "To be, or not to be: that is the question + Whether 't is nobl--" + +--"William, shall we have pudding to-day, or flapjacks?" + +--"Flapjacks, an' it please thee, Anne, or a pudding, for that matter; or +what thou wilt, good woman, so thou come not betwixt me and my thought." + +--Exit Mistress Anne, with strongly accented closing of the door and +murmurs to the effect: "Ay, marry, 't is well for thee to talk as if thou +hadst no stomach to fill. We poor wives must swink for our masters, +while they sit in their arm-chairs growing as great in the girth through +laziness as that ill-mannered fat man William hath writ of in his books +of players' stuff. One had as well meddle with a porkpen, which hath +thorns all over him, as try to deal with William when his eyes be rolling +in that mad way." + +William--writing once more--after an exclamation in strong English of the +older pattern,-- + + "Whether 't is nobler--nobler--nobler--" + +To do what? O these women! these women! to have puddings or flapjacks! +Oh!-- + + "Whether 't is nobler--in the mind--to suffer + The slings--and arrows--of--" + +Oh! Oh! these women! I will e'en step over to the parson's and have a +cup of sack with His Reverence for methinks Master Hamlet hath forgot +that which was just now on his lips to speak. + +So I shall have to put off making my friends acquainted with the other +boarders, some of whom seem to me worth studying and describing. I have +something else of a graver character for my readers. I am talking, you +know, as a poet; I do not say I deserve the name, but I have taken it, +and if you consider me at all it must be in that aspect. You will, +therefore, be willing to run your eyes over a few pages read, of course +by request, to a select party of the boarders. + + THE GAMBREL-ROOFED HOUSE AND ITS OUTLOOK. + + A PANORAMA, WITH SIDE-SHOWS. + +My birthplace, the home of my childhood and earlier and later boyhood, +has within a few months passed out of the ownership of my family into the +hands of that venerable Alma Mater who seems to have renewed her youth, +and has certainly repainted her dormitories. In truth, when I last +revisited that familiar scene and looked upon the flammantia mania of the +old halls, "Massachusetts" with the dummy clock-dial, "Harvard" with the +garrulous belfry, little "Holden" with the sculptured unpunishable cherub +over its portal, and the rest of my early brick-and-mortar acquaintances, +I could not help saying to myself that I had lived to see the peaceable +establishment of the Red Republic of Letters. + +Many of the things I shall put down I have no doubt told before in a +fragmentary way, how many I cannot be quite sure, as I do not very often +read my own prose works. But when a man dies a great deal is said of him +which has often been said in other forms, and now this dear old house is +dead to me in one sense, and I want to gather up my recollections and +wind a string of narrative round them, tying them up like a nosegay for +the last tribute: the same blossoms in it I have often laid on its +threshold while it was still living for me. + +We Americans are all cuckoos,--we make our homes in the nests of other +birds. I have read somewhere that the lineal descendants of the man who +carted off the body of William Rufus, with Walter Tyrrel's arrow sticking +in it, have driven a cart (not absolutely the same one, I suppose) in the +New Forest, from that day to this. I don't quite understand Mr. Ruskin's +saying (if he said it) that he couldn't get along in a country where +there were no castles, but I do think we lose a great deal in living +where there are so few permanent homes. You will see how much I parted +with which was not reckoned in the price paid for the old homestead. + +I shall say many things which an uncharitable reader might find fault +with as personal. I should not dare to call myself a poet if I did not; +for if there is anything that gives one a title to that name, it is that +his inner nature is naked and is not ashamed. But there are many such +things I shall put in words, not because they are personal, but because +they are human, and are born of just such experiences as those who hear +or read what I say are like to have had in greater or less measure. I +find myself so much like other people that I often wonder at the +coincidence. It was only the other day that I sent out a copy of verses +about my great-grandmother's picture, and I was surprised to find how +many other people had portraits of their great-grandmothers or other +progenitors, about which they felt as I did about mine, and for whom I +had spoken, thinking I was speaking for myself only. And so I am not +afraid to talk very freely with you, my precious reader or listener. You +too, Beloved, were born somewhere and remember your birthplace or your +early home; for you some house is haunted by recollections; to some roof +you have bid farewell. Your hand is upon mine, then, as I guide my pen. +Your heart frames the responses to the litany of my remembrance. For +myself it is a tribute of affection I am rendering, and I should put it +on record for my own satisfaction, were there none to read or to listen. + +I hope you will not say that I have built a pillared portico of +introduction to a humble structure of narrative. For when you look at +the old gambrel-roofed house, you will see an unpretending mansion, such +as very possibly you were born in yourself, or at any rate such a place +of residence as your minister or some of your well-to-do country cousins +find good enough, but not at all too grand for them. We have stately old +Colonial palaces in our ancient village, now a city, and a thriving +one,--square-fronted edifices that stand back from the vulgar highway, +with folded arms, as it were; social fortresses of the time when the +twilight lustre of the throne reached as far as our half-cleared +settlement, with a glacis before them in the shape of a long broad +gravel-walk, so that in King George's time they looked as formidably to +any but the silk-stocking gentry as Gibraltar or Ehrenbreitstein to a +visitor without the password. We forget all this in the kindly welcome +they give us to-day; for some of them are still standing and doubly +famous, as we all know. But the gambrel-roofed house, though stately +enough for college dignitaries and scholarly clergymen, was not one of +those old Tory, Episcopal-church-goer's strongholds. One of its doors +opens directly upon the green, always called the Common; the other, +facing the south, a few steps from it, over a paved foot-walk, on the +other side of which is the miniature front yard, bordered with lilacs and +syringas. The honest mansion makes no pretensions. Accessible, +companionable, holding its hand out to all, comfortable, respectable, and +even in its way dignified, but not imposing, not a house for his +Majesty's Counsellor, or the Right Reverend successor of Him who had not +where to lay his head, for something like a hundred and fifty years it +has stood in its lot, and seen the generations of men come and go like +the leaves of the forest. I passed some pleasant hours, a few years +since, in the Registry of Deeds and the Town Records, looking up the +history of the old house. How those dear friends of mine, the +antiquarians, for whose grave councils I compose my features on the too +rare Thursdays when I am at liberty to meet them, in whose human +herbarium the leaves and blossoms of past generations are so carefully +spread out and pressed and laid away, would listen to an expansion of the +following brief details into an Historical Memoir! + +The estate was the third lot of the eighth "Squadron" (whatever that +might be), and in the year 1707 was allotted in the distribution of +undivided lands to "Mr. ffox," the Reverend Jabez Fox of Woburn, it may +be supposed, as it passed from his heirs to the first Jonathan Hastings; +from him to his son, the long remembered College Steward; from him in the +year 1792 to the Reverend Eliphalet Pearson, Professor of Hebrew and +other Oriental languages in Harvard College, whose large personality swam +into my ken when I was looking forward to my teens; from him the +progenitors of my unborn self. + +I wonder if there are any such beings nowadays as the great Eliphalet, +with his large features and conversational basso profundo, seemed to me. +His very name had something elephantine about it, and it seemed to me +that the house shook from cellar to garret at his footfall. Some have +pretended that he had Olympian aspirations, and wanted to sit in the seat +of Jove and bear the academic thunderbolt and the aegis inscribed Christo +et Ecclesiae. It is a common weakness enough to wish to find one's self +in an empty saddle; Cotton Mather was miserable all his days, I am +afraid, after that entry in his Diary: "This Day Dr. Sewall was chosen +President, for his Piety." + +There is no doubt that the men of the older generation look bigger and +more formidable to the boys whose eyes are turned up at their venerable +countenances than the race which succeeds them, to the same boys grown +older. Everything is twice as large, measured on a three-year-olds +three-foot scale as on a thirty-year-olds six-foot scale; but age +magnifies and aggravates persons out of due proportion. Old people are a +kind of monsters to little folks; mild manifestations of the terrible, it +may be, but still, with their white locks and ridged and grooved +features, which those horrid little eyes exhaust of their details, like +so many microscopes not exactly what human beings ought to be. The +middle-aged and young men have left comparatively faint impressions in my +memory, but how grandly the procession of the old clergymen who filled +our pulpit from time to time, and passed the day under our roof, marches +before my closed eyes! At their head the most venerable David Osgood, +the majestic minister of Medford, with massive front and shaggy +over-shadowing eyebrows; following in the train, mild-eyed John Foster of +Brighton, with the lambent aurora of a smile about his pleasant mouth, +which not even the "Sabbath" could subdue to the true Levitical aspect; +and bulky Charles Steams of Lincoln, author of "The Ladies' Philosophy of +Love. A Poem. 1797" (how I stared at him! he was the first living +person ever pointed out to me as a poet); and Thaddeus Mason Harris of +Dorchester (the same who, a poor youth, trudging along, staff in hand, +being then in a stress of sore need, found all at once that somewhat was +adhering to the end of his stick, which somewhat proved to be a gold ring +of price, bearing the words, "God speed thee, Friend!"), already in +decadence as I remember him, with head slanting forward and downward as +if looking for a place to rest in after his learned labors; and that +other Thaddeus, the old man of West Cambridge, who outwatched the rest so +long after they had gone to sleep in their own churchyards, that it +almost seemed as if he meant to sit up until the morning of the +resurrection; and bringing up the rear, attenuated but vivacious little +Jonathan Homer of Newton, who was, to look upon, a kind of expurgated, +reduced and Americanized copy of Voltaire, but very unlike him in +wickedness or wit. The good-humored junior member of our family always +loved to make him happy by setting him chirruping about Miles Coverdale's +Version, and the Bishop's Bible, and how he wrote to his friend Sir Isaac +(Coffin) about something or other, and how Sir Isaac wrote back that he +was very much pleased with the contents of his letter, and so on about +Sir Isaac, ad libitum,--for the admiral was his old friend, and he was +proud of him. The kindly little old gentleman was a collector of Bibles, +and made himself believe he thought he should publish a learned +Commentary some day or other; but his friends looked for it only in the +Greek Calends,--say on the 31st of April, when that should come round, if +you would modernize the phrase. I recall also one or two exceptional and +infrequent visitors with perfect distinctness: cheerful Elijah Kellogg, a +lively missionary from the region of the Quoddy Indians, with much +hopeful talk about Sock Bason and his tribe; also poor old +Poor-house-Parson Isaac Smith, his head going like a China mandarin, as +he discussed the possibilities of the escape of that distinguished +captive whom he spoke of under the name, if I can reproduce phonetically +its vibrating nasalities of "General Mmbongaparty,"--a name suggestive to +my young imagination of a dangerous, loose-jointed skeleton, threatening +us all like the armed figure of Death in my little New England Primer. + +I have mentioned only the names of those whose images come up pleasantly +before me, and I do not mean to say anything which any descendant might +not read smilingly. But there were some of the black-coated gentry whose +aspect was not so agreeable to me. It is very curious to me to look back +on my early likes and dislikes, and see how as a child I was attracted or +repelled by such and such ministers, a good deal, as I found out long +afterwards, according to their theological beliefs. On the whole, I +think the old-fashioned New England divine softening down into +Arminianism was about as agreeable as any of them. And here I may +remark, that a mellowing rigorist is always a much pleasanter object to +contemplate than a tightening liberal, as a cold day warming up to 32 +Fahrenheit is much more agreeable than a warm one chilling down to the +same temperature. The least pleasing change is that kind of mental +hemiplegia which now and then attacks the rational side of a man at about +the same period of life when one side of the body is liable to be +palsied, and in fact is, very probably, the same thing as palsy, in +another form. The worst of it is that the subjects of it never seem to +suspect that they are intellectual invalids, stammerers and cripples at +best, but are all the time hitting out at their old friends with the well +arm, and calling them hard names out of their twisted mouths. + +It was a real delight to have one of those good, hearty, happy, benignant +old clergymen pass the Sunday, with us, and I can remember some whose +advent made the day feel almost like "Thanksgiving." But now and then +would come along a clerical visitor with a sad face and a wailing voice, +which sounded exactly as if somebody must be lying dead up stairs, who +took no interest in us children, except a painful one, as being in a bad +way with our cheery looks, and did more to unchristianize us with his +woebegone ways than all his sermons were like to accomplish in the other +direction. I remember one in particular, who twitted me so with my +blessings as a Christian child, and whined so to me about the naked black +children who, like the "Little Vulgar Boy," "had n't got no supper and +hadn't got no ma," and hadn't got no Catechism, (how I wished for the +moment I was a little black boy!) that he did more in that one day to +make me a heathen than he had ever done in a month to make a Christian +out of an infant Hottentot. What a debt we owe to our friends of the +left centre, the Brooklyn and the Park Street and the Summer street +ministers; good, wholesome, sound-bodied, one-minded, cheerful-spirited +men, who have taken the place of those wailing poitrinaires with the +bandanna handkerchiefs round their meagre throats and a funeral service +in their forlorn physiognomies! I might have been a minister myself, for +aught I know, if this clergyman had not looked and talked so like an +undertaker. + +All this belongs to one of the side-shows, to which I promised those who +would take tickets to the main exhibition should have entrance gratis. +If I were writing a poem you would expect, as a matter of course, that +there would be a digression now and then. + +To come back to the old house and its former tenant, the Professor of +Hebrew and other Oriental languages. Fifteen years he lived with his +family under its roof. I never found the slightest trace of him +until a few years ago, when I cleaned and brightened with pious hands +the brass lock of "the study," which had for many years been covered +with a thick coat of paint. On that I found scratched; as with a +nail or fork, the following inscription: + E PE + +Only that and nothing more, but the story told itself. Master Edward +Pearson, then about as high as the lock, was disposed to immortalize +himself in monumental brass, and had got so far towards it, when a sudden +interruption, probably a smart box on the ear, cheated him of his fame, +except so far as this poor record may rescue it. Dead long ago. I +remember him well, a grown man, as a visitor at a later period; and, for +some reason, I recall him in the attitude of the Colossus of Rhodes, +standing full before a generous wood-fire, not facing it, but quite the +contrary, a perfect picture of the content afforded by a blazing hearth +contemplated from that point of view, and, as the heat stole through his +person and kindled his emphatic features, seeming to me a pattern of +manly beauty. What a statue gallery of posturing friends we all have in +our memory! The old Professor himself sometimes visited the house after +it had changed hands. Of course, my recollections are not to be wholly +trusted, but I always think I see his likeness in a profile face to be +found among the illustrations of Rees's Cyclopaedia. (See Plates, Vol. +IV., Plate 2, Painting, Diversities of the Human Face, Fig. 4.) + +And now let us return to our chief picture. In the days of my earliest +remembrance, a row of tall Lombardy poplars mounted guard on the western +side of the old mansion. Whether, like the cypress, these trees suggest +the idea of the funeral torch or the monumental spire, whether their +tremulous leaves make wits afraid by sympathy with their nervous thrills, +whether the faint balsamic smell of their foliage and their closely +swathed limbs have in them vague hints of dead Pharaohs stiffened in +their cerements, I will guess; but they always seemed to me to give an of +sepulchral sadness to the house before which stood sentries. Not so with +the row of elms which you may see leading up towards the western +entrance. I think the patriarch of them all went over in the great gale +of 1815; I know I used to shake the youngest of them with my hands, stout +as it is now, with a trunk that would defy the bully of Crotona, or the +strong man whose liaison with the Lady Delilah proved so disastrous. + +The College plain would be nothing without its elms. As the long hair of +a woman is a glory to her, are these green tresses that bank themselves +against sky in thick clustered masses the ornament and the pride of the +classic green. You know the "Washington elm," or if you do not, you had +better rekindle our patriotism by reading the inscription, which tells +you that under its shadow the great leader first drew his sword at the +head of an American army. In a line with that you may see two others: +the coral fan, as I always called it from its resemblance in form to that +beautiful marine growth, and a third a little farther along. I have +heard it said that all three were planted at the same time, and that the +difference of their growth is due to the slope of the ground,--the +Washington elm being lower than either of the others. There is a row of +elms just in front of the old house on the south. When I was a child the +one at the southwest corner was struck by lightning, and one of its limbs +and a long ribbon of bark torn away. The tree never fully recovered its +symmetry and vigor, and forty years and more afterwards a second +thunderbolt crashed upon it and set its heart on fire, like those of the +lost souls in the Hall of Eblis. Heaven had twice blasted it, and the +axe finished what the lightning had begun. + +The soil of the University town is divided into patches of sandy and of +clayey ground. The Common and the College green, near which the old +house stands, are on one of the sandy patches. Four curses are the local +inheritance: droughts, dust, mud, and canker-worms. I cannot but think +that all the characters of a region help to modify the children born in +it. I am fond of making apologies for human nature, and I think I could +find an excuse for myself if I, too, were dry and barren and muddy-witted +and "cantankerous,"--disposed to get my back up, like those other natives +of the soil. + +I know this, that the way Mother Earth treats a boy shapes out a kind of +natural theology for him. I fell into Manichean ways of thinking from +the teaching of my garden experiences. Like other boys in the country, I +had my patch of ground, to which, in the spring-time, I entrusted the +seeds furnished me, with a confident trust in their resurrection and +glorification in the better world of summer. But I soon found that my +lines had fallen in a place where a vegetable growth had to run the +gauntlet of as many foes and dials as a Christian pilgrim. Flowers would +not Blow; daffodils perished like criminals in their cone demned caps, +without their petals ever seeing daylight; roses were disfigured with +monstrous protrusions through their very centres,--something that looked +like a second bud pushing through the middle of the corolla; lettuces and +cabbages would not head; radishes knotted themselves until they looked +like centenerians' fingers; and on every stem, on every leaf, and both +sides of it, and at the root of everything that dew, was a professional +specialist in the shape of grub, caterpillar, aphis, or other expert, +whose business it was to devour that particular part, and help order the +whole attempt at vegetation. Such experiences must influence a child +born to them. A sandy soil, where nothing flourishes but weeds and evil +beasts of small dimensions, must breed different qualities in its human +offspring from one of those fat and fertile spots which the wit whom I +have once before noted described so happily that, if I quoted the +passage, its brilliancy would spoil one of my pages, as a diamond +breastpin sometimes kills the social effect of the wearer, who might have +passed for a gentleman without it. Your arid patch of earth should seem +to the natural birthplace of the leaner virtues and the abler vices,--of +temperance and the domestic proprieties on the one hand, with a tendency +to light weights in groceries and provisions, and to clandestine +abstraction from the person on the other, as opposed to the free +hospitality, the broadly planned burglaries, and the largely conceived +homicides of our rich Western alluvial regions. Yet Nature is never +wholly unkind. Economical as she was in my unparadised Eden, hard as it +was to make some of my floral houris unveil, still the damask roses +sweetened the June breezes, the bladed and plumed flower-de-luces +unfolded their close-wrapped cones, and larkspurs and lupins, lady's +delights,--plebeian manifestations of the pansy,--self-sowing marigolds, +hollyhocks, the forest flowers of two seasons, and the perennial lilacs +and syringas,--all whispered to' the winds blowing over them that some +caressing presence was around me. + +Beyond the garden was "the field," a vast domain of four acres or +thereabout, by the measurement of after years, bordered to the north by a +fathomless chasm,--the ditch the base-ball players of the present era +jump over; on the east by unexplored territory; on the south by a barren +enclosure, where the red sorrel proclaimed liberty and equality under its +drapeau rouge, and succeeded in establishing a vegetable commune where +all were alike, poor, mean, sour, and uninteresting; and on the west by +the Common, not then disgraced by jealous enclosures, which make it look +like a cattle-market. Beyond, as I looked round, were the Colleges, the +meeting-house, the little square market-house, long vanished; the +burial-ground where the dead Presidents stretched their weary bones under +epitaphs stretched out at as full length as their subjects; the pretty +church where the gouty Tories used to kneel on their hassocks; the +district schoolhouse, and hard by it Ma'am Hancock's cottage, never so +called in those days, but rather "tenfooter"; then houses scattered near +and far, open spaces, the shadowy elms, round hilltops in the distance, +and over all the great bowl of the sky. Mind you, this was the WORLD, as +I first knew it; terra veteribus cognita, as Mr. Arrowsmith would have +called it, if he had mapped the universe of my infancy: + +But I am forgetting the old house again in the landscape. The worst of a +modern stylish mansion is, that it has no place for ghosts. I watched +one building not long since. It had no proper garret, to begin with, +only a sealed interval between the roof and attics, where a spirit could +not be accommodated, unless it were flattened out like Ravel, Brother, +after the millstone had fallen on him. There was not a nook or a corner +in the whole horse fit to lodge any respectable ghost, for every part was +as open to observation as a literary man's character and condition, his +figure and estate, his coat and his countenance, are to his (or her) +Bohemian Majesty on a tour of inspection through his (or her) subjects' +keyholes. + +Now the old house had wainscots, behind which the mice were always +scampering and squeaking and rattling down the plaster, and enacting +family scenes and parlor theatricals. It had a cellar where the cold +slug clung to the walls, and the misanthropic spider withdrew from the +garish day; where the green mould loved to grow, and the long white +potato-shoots went feeling along the floor, if haply they might find the +daylight; it had great brick pillars, always in a cold sweat with holding +up the burden they had been aching under day and night far a century and +more; it had sepulchral arches closed by rough doors that hung on hinges +rotten with rust, behind which doors, if there was not a heap of bones +connected with a mysterious disappearance of long ago, there well might +have been, for it was just the place to look for them. It had a garret; +very nearly such a one as it seems to me one of us has described in one +of his books; but let us look at this one as I can reproduce it from +memory. It has a flooring of laths with ridges of mortar squeezed up +between them, which if you tread on you will go to--the Lord have mercy +on you! where will you go to?--the same being crossed by narrow bridges +of boards, on which you may put your feet, but with fear and trembling. +Above you and around you are beams and joists, on some of which you may +see, when the light is let in, the marks of the conchoidal clippings of +the broadaxe, showing the rude way in which the timber was shaped as it +came, full of sap, from the neighboring forest. It is a realm of +darkness and thick dust, and shroud-like cobwebs and dead things they +wrap in their gray folds. For a garret is like a seashore, where wrecks +are thrown up and slowly go to pieces. There is the cradle which the old +man you just remember was rocked in; there is the ruin of the bedstead he +died on; that ugly slanting contrivance used to be put under his pillow +in the days when his breath came hard; there is his old chair with both +arms gone, symbol of the desolate time when he had nothing earthly left +to lean on; there is the large wooden reel which the blear-eyed old +deacon sent the minister's lady, who thanked him graciously, and twirled +it smilingly, and in fitting season bowed it out decently to the limbo of +troublesome conveniences. And there are old leather portmanteaus, like +stranded porpoises, their mouths gaping in gaunt hunger for the food with +which they used to be gorged to bulging repletion; and old brass +andirons, waiting until time shall revenge them on their paltry +substitutes, and they shall have their own again, and bring with them the +fore-stick and the back-log of ancient days; and the empty churn, with +its idle dasher, which the Nancys and Phoebes, who have left their +comfortable places to the Bridgets and Norahs, used to handle to good +purpose; and the brown, shaky old spinning-wheel, which was running, it +may be, in the days when they were hinging the Salem witches. + +Under the dark and haunted garret were attic chambers which themselves +had histories. On a pane in the northeastern chamber may be read these +names: + +"John Tracy," "Robert Roberts," "Thomas Prince;" "Stultus" another hand +had added. When I found these names a few years ago (wrong side up, for +the window had been reversed), I looked at once in the Triennial to find +them, for the epithet showed that they were probably students. I found +them all under the years 1771 and 1773. Does it please their thin ghosts +thus to be dragged to the light of day? Has "Stultus" forgiven the +indignity of being thus characterized? + +The southeast chamber was the Library Hospital. Every scholar should +have a book infirmary attached his library. There should find a +peaceable refuge the many books, invalids from their birth, which are +sent "with the best regards of the Author"; the respected, but +unpresentable cripples which have lost cover; the odd volumes of honored +sets which go mourning all their days for their lost brother; the +school-books which have been so often the subjects of assault and +battery, that they look as if the police must know them by heart; these +and still more the pictured story-books, beginning with Mother Goose +(which a dear old friend of mine has just been amusing his philosophic +leisure with turning most ingeniously and happily into the tongues of +Virgil and Homer), will be precious mementos by and by, when children and +grandchildren come along. What would I not give for that dear little +paper-bound quarto, in large and most legible type, on certain pages of +which the tender hand that was the shield of my infancy had crossed out +with deep black marks something awful, probably about BEARS, such as once +tare two-and-forty of us little folks for making faces, and the very name +of which made us hide our heads under the bedclothes. + +I made strange acquaintances in that book infirmary up in the southeast +attic. The "Negro Plot" at New York helped to implant a feeling in me +which it took Mr. Garrison a good many years to root out. "Thinks I to +Myself," an old novel, which has been attributed to a famous statesman, +introduced me to a world of fiction which was not represented on the +shelves of the library proper, unless perhaps by Coelebs in Search of a +Wife, or allegories of the bitter tonic class, as the young doctor that +sits on the other side of the table would probably call them. I always, +from an early age, had a keen eye for a story with a moral sticking out +of it, and gave it a wide berth, though in my later years I have myself +written a couple of "medicated novels," as one of my dearest and +pleasantest old friends wickedly called them, when somebody asked her if +she had read the last of my printed performances. I forgave the satire +for the charming esprit of the epithet. Besides the works I have +mentioned, there was an old, old Latin alchemy book, with the manuscript +annotations of some ancient Rosicrucian, in the pages of which I had a +vague notion that I might find the mighty secret of the Lapis +Philosophorum, otherwise called Chaos, the Dragon, the Green Lion, the +Quinta Essentia, the Soap of Sages, the Vinegar of Philosophers, the Dew +of Heavenly Grace, the Egg, the Old Man, the Sun, the Moon, and by all +manner of odd aliases, as I am assured by the plethoric little book +before me, in parchment covers browned like a meerschaum with the smoke +of furnaces and the thumbing of dead gold seekers, and the fingering of +bony-handed book-misers, and the long intervals of dusty slumber on the +shelves of the bouquiniste; for next year it will be three centuries old, +and it had already seen nine generations of men when I caught its eye +(Alchemiae Doctrina) and recognized it at pistol-shot distance as a +prize, among the breviaries and Heures and trumpery volumes of the old +open-air dealer who exposed his treasures under the shadow of St. +Sulpice. I have never lost my taste for alchemy since I first got hold +of the Palladium Spagyricum of Peter John Faber, and sought--in vain, it +is true--through its pages for a clear, intelligible, and practical +statement of how I could turn my lead sinkers and the weights of tall +kitchen clock into good yellow gold, specific gravity 19.2, and +exchangeable for whatever I then wanted, and for many more things than I +was then aware of. One of the greatest pleasures of childhood found in +the mysteries which it hides from the skepticism of the elders, and works +up into small mythologies of its own. I have seen all this played over +again in adult life,--the same delightful bewilderment semi-emotional +belief in listening to the gaseous praises of this or that fantastic +system, that I found in the pleasing mirages conjured up for me by the +ragged old volume I used to pore over in the southeast attic-chamber. + +The rooms of the second story, the chambers of birth and death, are +sacred to silent memories. + +Let us go down to the ground-floor. I should have begun with this, but +that the historical reminiscences of the old house have been recently +told in a most interesting memoir by a distinguished student of our local +history. I retain my doubts about those "dents" on the floor of the +right-hand room, "the study" of successive occupants, said to have been +made by the butts of the Continental militia's firelocks, but this was +the cause to which the story told me in childhood laid them. That +military consultations were held in that room when the house was General +Ward's headquarters, that the Provincial generals and colonels and other +men of war there planned the movement which ended in the fortifying of +Bunker's Hill, that Warren slept in the house the night before the +battle, that President Langdon went forth from the western door and +prayed for God's blessing on the men just setting forth on their bloody +expedition,--all these things have been told, and perhaps none of them +need be doubted. + +But now for fifty years and more that room has been a meeting-ground for +the platoons and companies which range themselves at the scholar's word +of command. Pleasant it is to think that the retreating host of books is +to give place to a still larger army of volumes, which have seen service +under the eye of a great commander. For here the noble collection of him +so freshly remembered as our silver-tongued orator, our erudite scholar, +our honored College President, our accomplished statesman, our courtly +ambassador, are to be reverently gathered by the heir of his name, +himself not unworthy to be surrounded by that august assembly of the wise +of all ages and of various lands and languages. + +Could such a many-chambered edifice have stood a century and a half and +not have had its passages of romance to bequeath their lingering legends +to the after-time? There are other names on some of the small +window-panes, which must have had young flesh-and-blood owners, and there +is one of early date which elderly persons have whispered was borne by a +fair woman, whose graces made the house beautiful in the eyes of the +youth of that time. One especially--you will find the name of Fortescue +Vernon, of the class of 1780, in the Triennial Catalogue--was a favored +visitor to the old mansion; but he went over seas, I think they told me, +and died still young, and the name of the maiden which is scratched on +the windowpane was never changed. I am telling the story honestly, as I +remember it, but I may have colored it unconsciously, and the legendary +pane may be broken before this for aught I know. At least, I have named +no names except the beautiful one of the supposed hero of the romantic +story. + +It was a great happiness to have been born in an old house haunted by +such recollections, with harmless ghosts walking its corridors, with +fields of waving grass and trees and singing birds, and that vast +territory of four or five acres around it to give a child the sense that +he was born to a noble principality. It has been a great pleasure to +retain a certain hold upon it for so many years; and since in the natural +course of things it must at length pass into other hands, it is a +gratification to see the old place making itself tidy for a new tenant, +like some venerable dame who is getting ready to entertain a neighbor of +condition. Not long since a new cap of shingles adorned this ancient +mother among the village--now city--mansions. She has dressed herself +in brighter colors than she has hitherto worn, so they tell me, within +the last few days. She has modernized her aspects in several ways; she +has rubbed bright the glasses through which she looks at the Common and +the Colleges; and as the sunsets shine upon her through the flickering +leaves or the wiry spray of the elms I remember from my childhood, they +will glorify her into the aspect she wore when President Holyoke, father +of our long since dead centenarian, looked upon her in her youthful +comeliness. + +The quiet corner formed by this and the neighboring residences has +changed less than any place I can remember. Our kindly, polite, shrewd, +and humorous old neighbor, who in former days has served the town as +constable and auctioneer, and who bids fair to become the oldest +inhabitant of the city, was there when I was born, and is living there +to-day. By and by the stony foot of the great University will plant +itself on this whole territory, and the private recollections which clung +so tenaciously and fondly to the place and its habitations will have died +with those who cherished them. + +Shall they ever live again in the memory of those who loved them here +below? What is this life without the poor accidents which made it our +own, and by which we identify ourselves? Ah me! I might like to be a +winged chorister, but still it seems to me I should hardly be quite happy +if I could not recall at will the Old House with the Long Entry, and the +White Chamber (where I wrote the first verses that made me known, with a +pencil, stans pede in uno, pretty, nearly), and the Little Parlor, and +the Study, and the old books in uniforms as varied as those of the +Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company used to be, if my memory serves +me right, and the front yard with the Star-of-Bethlehems growing, +flowerless, among the grass, and the dear faces to be seen no more there +or anywhere on this earthly place of farewells. + +I have told my story. I do not know what special gifts have been granted +or denied me; but this I know, that I am like so many others of my +fellow-creatures, that when I smile, I feel as if they must; when I cry, +I think their eyes fill; and it always seems to me that when I am most +truly myself I come nearest to them and am surest of being listened to by +the brothers and sisters of the larger family into which I was born so +long ago. I have often feared they might be tired of me and what I tell +them. But then, perhaps, would come a letter from some quiet body in +some out-of-the-way place, which showed me that I had said something +which another had often felt but never said, or told the secret of +another's heart in unburdening my own. Such evidences that one is in the +highway of human experience and feeling lighten the footsteps +wonderfully. So it is that one is encouraged to go on writing as long as +the world has anything that interests him, for he never knows how many of +his fellow-beings he may please or profit, and in how many places his +name will be spoken as that of a friend. + +In the mood suggested by my story I have ventured on the poem that +follows. Most people love this world more than they are willing to +confess, and it is hard to conceive ourselves weaned from it so as to +feel no emotion at the thought of its most sacred recollections, even +after a sojourn of years, as we should count the lapse of earthly +time,--in the realm where, sooner or later, all tears shall be wiped +away. I hope, therefore, the title of my lines will not frighten those +who are little accustomed to think of men and women as human beings in +any state but the present. + + HOMESICK IN HEAVEN. + + THE DIVINE VOICE. + + Go seek thine earth-born sisters,--thus the Voice + That all obey,--the sad and silent three; + These only, while the hosts of heaven rejoice, + Smile never: ask them what their sorrows be: + + And when the secret of their griefs they tell, + Look on them with thy mild, half-human eyes; + Say what thou wast on earth; thou knowest well; + So shall they cease from unavailing sighs. + + THE ANGEL. + + --Why thus, apart,--the swift-winged herald spake, + --Sit ye with silent lips and unstrung lyres + While the trisagion's blending chords awake + In shouts of joy from all the heavenly choirs? + + THE FIRST SPIRIT. + + --Chide not thy sisters,--thus the answer came; + --Children of earth, our half-weaned nature clings + To earth's fond memories, and her whispered name + Untunes our quivering lips, our saddened strings; + + For there we loved, and where we love is home, + Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts, + Though o'er us shine the jasper-lighted dome:-- + + The chain may lengthen, but it never parts! + + Sometimes a sunlit sphere comes rolling by, + And then we softly whisper,--can it be? + And leaning toward the silvery orb, we try + To hear the music of its murmuring sea; + + To catch, perchance, some flashing glimpse of green, + Or breathe some wild-wood fragrance, wafted through + The opening gates of pearl, that fold between + The blinding splendors and the changeless blue. + + THE ANGEL. + + --Nay, sister, nay! a single healing leaf + Plucked from the bough of yon twelve-fruited tree, + Would soothe such anguish,--deeper stabbing grief + Has pierced thy throbbing heart-- + + THE FIRST SPIRIT. + + ---Ah, woe is me! + I from my clinging babe was rudely torn; + His tender lips a loveless bosom pressed + Can I forget him in my life new born? + O that my darling lay upon my breast! + + THE ANGEL. + + --And thou? + + THE SECOND SPIRIT. + + I was a fair and youthful bride, + + The kiss of love still burns upon my cheek, + He whom I worshipped, ever at my side, + --Him through the spirit realm in vain I seek. + + Sweet faces turn their beaming eyes on mine; + Ah! not in these the wished-for look I read; + Still for that one dear human smile I pine; + Thou and none other!--is the lover's creed. + + THE ANGEL. + + --And whence thy sadness in a world of bliss + Where never parting comes, nor mourner's tear? + Art thou, too, dreaming of a mortal's kiss + Amid the seraphs of the heavenly sphere? + + THE THIRD SPIRIT. + + --Nay, tax not me with passion's wasting fire; + When the swift message set my spirit free, + Blind, helpless, lone, I left my gray-haired sire; + My friends were many, he had none save me. + + I left him, orphaned, in the starless night; + Alas, for him no cheerful morning's dawn! + I wear the ransomed spirit's robe of white, + Yet still I hear him moaning, She is gone! + + THE ANGEL. + + --Ye know me not, sweet sisters?--All in vain + Ye seek your lost ones in the shapes they wore; + The flower once opened may not bud again, + The fruit once fallen finds the stem no more. + + Child, lover, sire,--yea, all things loved below, + Fair pictures damasked on a vapor's fold, + Fade like the roseate flush, the golden glow, + When the bright curtain of the day is rolled. + + I was the babe that slumbered on thy breast. + --And, sister, mine the lips that called thee bride. + --Mine were the silvered locks thy hand caressed, + That faithful hand, my faltering footstep's guide! + + Each changing form, frail vesture of decay, + The soul unclad forgets it once hath worn, + Stained with the travel of the weary day, + And shamed with rents from every wayside thorn. + + To lie, an infant, in thy fond embrace, + To come with love's warm kisses back to thee, + To show thine eyes thy gray-haired father's face, + Not Heaven itself could grant; this may not be! + + Then spread your folded wings, and leave to earth + The dust once breathing ye have mourned so long, + Till Love, new risen, owns his heavenly birth, + And sorrow's discords sweeten into song! + + + + +II + +I am going to take it for granted now and henceforth, in my report of +what was said and what was to be seen at our table, that I have secured +one good, faithful, loving reader, who never finds fault, who never gets +sleepy over my pages, whom no critic can bully out of a liking for me, +and to whom I am always safe in addressing myself. My one elect may be +man or woman, old or young, gentle or simple, living in the next block or +on a slope of Nevada, my fellow-countryman or an alien; but one such +reader I shall assume to exist and have always in my thought when I am +writing. + +A writer is so like a lover! And a talk with the right listener is so +like an arm-in-arm walk in the moonlight with the soft heartbeat just +felt through the folds of muslin and broadcloth! But it takes very +little to spoil everything for writer, talker, lover. There are a great +many cruel things besides poverty that freeze the genial current of the +soul, as the poet of the Elegy calls it. Fire can stand any wind, but is +easily blown out, and then come smouldering and smoke, and profitless, +slow combustion without the cheerful blaze which sheds light all round +it. The one Reader's hand may shelter the flame; the one blessed +ministering spirit with the vessel of oil may keep it bright in spite of +the stream of cold water on the other side doing its best to put it out. + +I suppose, if any writer, of any distinguishable individuality, could +look into the hearts of all his readers, he might very probably find one +in his parish of a thousand or a million who honestly preferred him to +any other of his kind. I have no doubt we have each one of us, +somewhere, our exact facsimile, so like us in all things except the +accidents of condition, that we should love each other like a pair of +twins, if our natures could once fairly meet. I know I have my +counterpart in some State of this Union. I feel sure that there is an +Englishman somewhere precisely like myself. (I hope he does not drop his +h's, for it does not seem to me possible that the Royal Dane could have +remained faithful to his love for Ophelia, if she had addressed him as +'Amlet.) There is also a certain Monsieur, to me at this moment unknown, +and likewise a Herr Von Something, each of whom is essentially my double. +An Arab is at this moment eating dates, a mandarin is just sipping his +tea, and a South-Sea-Islander (with undeveloped possibilities) drinking +the milk of a cocoa-nut, each one of whom, if he had been born in the +gambrel-roofed house, and cultivated my little sand-patch, and grown up +in "the study" from the height of Walton's Polyglot Bible to that of the +shelf which held the Elzevir Tacitus and Casaubon's Polybius, with all +the complex influences about him that surrounded me, would have been so +nearly what I am that I should have loved him like a brother,--always +provided that I did not hate him for his resemblance to me, on the same +principle as that which makes bodies in the same electric condition repel +each other. + +For, perhaps after all, my One Reader is quite as likely to be not the +person most resembling myself, but the one to whom my nature is +complementary. Just as a particular soil wants some one element to +fertilize it, just as the body in some conditions has a kind of +famine--for one special food, so the mind has its wants, which do not +always call for what is best, but which know themselves and are as +peremptory as the salt-sick sailor's call for a lemon or a raw potato, +or, if you will, as those capricious "longings," which have a certain +meaning, we may suppose, and which at any rate we think it reasonable to +satisfy if we can. + +I was going to say something about our boarders the other day when I got +run away with by my local reminiscences. I wish you to understand that +we have a rather select company at the table of our boarding-house. + +Our Landlady is a most respectable person, who has seen better days, of +course,--all landladies have,--but has also, I feel sure, seen a good +deal worse ones. For she wears a very handsome silk dress on state +occasions, with a breastpin set, as I honestly believe, with genuine +pearls, and appears habitually with a very smart cap, from under which +her gray curls come out with an unmistakable expression, conveyed in the +hieratic language of the feminine priesthood, to the effect that while +there is life there is hope. And when I come to reflect on the many +circumstances which go to the making of matrimonial happiness, I cannot +help thinking that a personage of her present able exterior, thoroughly +experienced in all the domestic arts which render life comfortable, might +make the later years of some hitherto companionless bachelor very +endurable, not to say pleasant. + +The condition of the Landlady's family is, from what I learn, such as to +make the connection I have alluded to, I hope with delicacy, desirable +for incidental as well as direct reasons, provided a fitting match could +be found. I was startled at hearing her address by the familiar name of +Benjamin the young physician I have referred to, until I found on +inquiry, what I might have guessed by the size of his slices of pie and +other little marks of favoritism, that he was her son. He has recently +come back from Europe, where he has topped off his home training with a +first-class foreign finish. As the Landlady could never have educated +him in this way out of the profits of keeping boarders, I was not +surprised when I was told that she had received a pretty little property +in the form of a bequest from a former boarder, a very kind-hearted, +worthy old gentleman who had been long with her and seen how hard she +worked for food and clothes for herself and this son of hers, Benjamin +Franklin by his baptismal name. Her daughter had also married well, to a +member of what we may call the post-medical profession, that, namely, +which deals with the mortal frame after the practitioners of the healing +art have done with it and taken their leave. So thriving had this +son-in-law of hers been in his business, that his wife drove about in her +own carriage, drawn by a pair of jet-black horses of most dignified +demeanor, whose only fault was a tendency to relapse at once into a walk +after every application of a stimulus that quickened their pace to a +trot; which application always caused them to look round upon the driver +with a surprised and offended air, as if he had been guilty of a grave +indecorum. + +The Landlady's daughter had been blessed with a number of children, of +great sobriety of outward aspect, but remarkably cheerful in their inward +habit of mind, more especially on the occasion of the death of a doll, +which was an almost daily occurrence, and gave them immense delight in +getting up a funeral, for which they had a complete miniature outfit. +How happy they were under their solemn aspect! For the head mourner, a +child of remarkable gifts, could actually make the tears run down her +cheeks,--as real ones as if she had been a grown person following a rich +relative, who had not forgotten his connections, to his last unfurnished +lodgings. + +So this was a most desirable family connection for the right man to step +into,--a thriving, thrifty mother-in-law, who knew what was good for the +sustenance of the body, and had no doubt taught it to her daughter; a +medical artist at hand in case the luxuries of the table should happen to +disturb the physiological harmonies; and in the worst event, a sweet +consciousness that the last sad offices would be attended to with +affectionate zeal, and probably a large discount from the usual charges. + +It seems as if I could hardly be at this table for a year, if I should +stay so long, without seeing some romance or other work itself out under +my eyes; and I cannot help thinking that the Landlady is to be the +heroine of the love-history like to unfold itself. I think I see the +little cloud in the horizon, with a silvery lining to it, which may end +in a rain of cards tied round with white ribbons. Extremes meet, and who +so like to be the other party as the elderly gentleman at the other end +of the table, as far from her now as the length of the board permits? I +may be mistaken, but I think this is to be the romantic episode of the +year before me. Only it seems so natural it is improbable, for you never +find your dropped money just where you look for it, and so it is with +these a priori matches. + +This gentleman is a tight, tidy, wiry little man, with a small, brisk +head, close-cropped white hair, a good wholesome complexion, a quiet, +rather kindly face, quick in his movements, neat in his dress, but fond +of wearing a short jacket over his coat, which gives him the look of a +pickled or preserved schoolboy. He has retired, they say, from a +thriving business, with a snug property, suspected by some to be rather +more than snug, and entitling him to be called a capitalist, except that +this word seems to be equivalent to highway robber in the new gospel of +Saint Petroleum. That he is economical in his habits cannot be denied, +for he saws and splits his own wood, for exercise, he says,--and makes +his own fires, brushes his own shoes, and, it is whispered, darns a hole +in a stocking now and then,--all for exercise, I suppose. Every summer +he goes out of town for a few weeks. On a given day of the month a wagon +stops at the door and takes up, not his trunks, for he does not indulge +in any such extravagance, but the stout brown linen bags in which he +packs the few conveniences he carries with him. + +I do not think this worthy and economical personage will have much to do +or to say, unless he marries the Landlady. If he does that, he will play +a part of some importance,--but I don't feel sure at all. His talk is +little in amount, and generally ends in some compact formula condensing +much wisdom in few words, as that a man, should not put all his eggs in +one basket; that there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of +it; and one in particular, which he surprised me by saying in pretty good +French one day, to the effect that the inheritance of the world belongs +to the phlegmatic people, which seems to me to have a good deal of truth +in it. + +The other elderly personage, the old man with iron-gray hair and large +round spectacles, sits at my right at table. He is a retired college +officer, a man of books and observation, and himself an author. Magister +Artium is one of his titles on the College Catalogue, and I like best to +speak of him as the Master, because he has a certain air of authority +which none of us feel inclined to dispute. He has given me a copy of a +work of his which seems to me not wanting in suggestiveness, and which I +hope I shall be able to make some use of in my records by and by. I said +the other day that he had good solid prejudices, which is true, and I +like him none the worse for it; but he has also opinions more or less +original, valuable, probable, fanciful; fantastic, or whimsical, perhaps, +now and then; which he promulgates at table somewhat in the tone of +imperial edicts. Another thing I like about him is, that he takes a +certain intelligent interest in pretty much everything that interests +other people. I asked him the other day what he thought most about in +his wide range of studies. + +--Sir,--said he,--I take stock in everything that concerns anybody. +Humani nihil,--you know the rest. But if you ask me what is my +specialty, I should say, I applied myself more particularly to the +contemplation of the Order of Things. + +--A pretty wide subject,--I ventured to suggest. + +--Not wide enough, sir,--not wide enough to satisfy the desire of a mind +which wants to get at absolute truth, without reference to the empirical +arrangements of our particular planet and its environments. I want to +subject the formal conditions of space and time to a new analysis, and +project a possible universe outside of the Order of Things. But I have +narrowed myself by studying the actual facts of being. By and by--by and +by--perhaps--perhaps. I hope to do some sound thinking in heaven--if I +ever get there,--he said seriously, and it seemed to me not irreverently. + +--I rather like that,--I said. I think your telescopic people are, on +the whole, more satisfactory than your microscopic ones. + +--My left-hand neighbor fidgeted about a little in his chair as I said +this. But the young man sitting not far from the Landlady, to whom my +attention had been attracted by the expression of his eyes, which seemed +as if they saw nothing before him, but looked beyond everything, smiled a +sort of faint starlight smile, that touched me strangely; for until that +moment he had appeared as if his thoughts were far away, and I had been +questioning whether he had lost friends lately, or perhaps had never had +them, he seemed so remote from our boarding-house life. I will inquire +about him, for he interests me, and I thought he seemed interested as I +went on talking. + +--No,--I continued,--I don't want to have the territory of a man's mind +fenced in. I don't want to shut out the mystery of the stars and the +awful hollow that holds them. We have done with those hypaethral +temples, that were open above to the heavens, but we can have attics and +skylights to them. Minds with skylights,--yes,--stop, let us see if we +can't get something out of that. + +One-story intellects, two--story intellects, three story intellects with +skylights. All fact--collectors, who have no aim beyond their facts, are +one-story men. Two-story men compare, reason, generalize, using the +labors of the fact-collectors as well as their own. Three-story men +idealize, imagine, predict; their best illumination comes from above, +through the skylight. There are minds with large ground floors, that can +store an infinite amount of knowledge; some librarians, for instance, who +know enough of books to help other people, without being able to make +much other use of their knowledge, have intellects of this class. Your +great working lawyer has two spacious stories; his mind is clear, because +his mental floors are large, and he has room to arrange his thoughts so +that he can get at them,--facts below, principles above, and all in +ordered series; poets are often narrow below, incapable of clear +statement, and with small power of consecutive reasoning, but full of +light, if sometimes rather bare of furniture, in the attics. + +--The old Master smiled. I think he suspects himself of a three-story +intellect, and I don't feel sure that he is n't right. + +--Is it dark meat or white meat you will be helped to?--said the +Landlady, addressing the Master. + +--Dark meat for me, always,--he answered. Then turning to me, he began +one of those monologues of his, such as that which put the Member of the +Haouse asleep the other day. + +--It 's pretty much the same in men and women and in books and +everything, that it is in turkeys and chickens. Why, take your poets, +now, say Browning and Tennyson. Don't you think you can say which is the +dark-meat and which is the white-meat poet? And so of the people you +know; can't you pick out the full-flavored, coarse-fibred characters from +the delicate, fine-fibred ones? And in the same person, don't you know +the same two shades in different parts of the character that you find in +the wing and thigh of a partridge? I suppose you poets may like white +meat best, very probably; you had rather have a wing than a drumstick, I +dare say. + +--Why, yes,--said I,--I suppose some of us do. Perhaps it is because a +bird flies with his white-fleshed limbs and walks with the dark-fleshed +ones. Besides, the wing-muscles are nearer the heart than the +leg-muscles. + +I thought that sounded mighty pretty, and paused a moment to pat myself +on the back, as is my wont when I say something that I think of superior +quality. So I lost my innings; for the Master is apt to strike in at the +end of a bar, instead of waiting for a rest, if I may borrow a musical +phrase. No matter, just at this moment, what he said; but he talked the +Member of the Haouse asleep again. + +They have a new term nowadays (I am speaking to you, the Reader) for +people that do a good deal of talking; they call them "conversationists," +or "conversationalists "; talkists, I suppose, would do just as well. It +is rather dangerous to get the name of being one of these phenomenal +manifestations, as one is expected to say something remarkable every time +one opens one's mouth in company. It seems hard not to be able to ask for +a piece of bread or a tumbler of water, without a sensation running round +the table, as if one were an electric eel or a torpedo, and couldn't be +touched without giving a shock. A fellow is n't all battery, is he? The +idea that a Gymnotus can't swallow his worm without a coruscation of +animal lightning is hard on that brilliant but sensational being. Good +talk is not a matter of will at all; it depends--you know we are all +half-materialists nowadays--on a certain amount of active congestion of +the brain, and that comes when it is ready, and not before. I saw a man +get up the other day in a pleasant company, and talk away for about five +minutes, evidently by a pure effort of will. His person was good, his +voice was pleasant, but anybody could see that it was all mechanical +labor; he was sparring for wind, as the Hon. John Morrissey, M. C., would +express himself. Presently,-- + +Do you,--Beloved, I am afraid you are not old enough,--but do you +remember the days of the tin tinder-box, the flint, and steel? Click! +click! click!--Al-h-h! knuckles that time! click! click! CLICK! a spark +has taken, and is eating into the black tinder, as a six-year-old eats +into a sheet of gingerbread. + +Presently, after hammering away for his five minutes with mere words, the +spark of a happy expression took somewhere among the mental combustibles, +and then for ten minutes we had a pretty, wandering, scintillating play +of eloquent thought, that enlivened, if it did not kindle, all around it. +If you want the real philosophy of it, I will give it to you. The chance +thought or expression struck the nervous centre of consciousness, as the +rowel of a spur stings the flank of a racer. Away through all the +telegraphic radiations of the nervous cords flashed the intelligence that +the brain was kindling, and must be fed with something or other, or it +would burn itself to ashes. + +And all the great hydraulic engines poured in their scarlet blood, and +the fire kindled, and the flame rose; for the blood is a stream that, +like burning rock-oil, at once kindles, and is itself the fuel. You can't +order these organic processes, any more than a milliner can make a rose. +She can make something that looks like a rose, more or less, but it takes +all the forces of the universe to finish and sweeten that blossom in your +button-hole; and you may be sure that when the orator's brain is in a +flame, when the poet's heart is in a tumult, it is something mightier +than he and his will that is dealing with him! As I have looked from one +of the northern windows of the street which commands our noble +estuary,--the view through which is a picture on an illimitable canvas +and a poem in innumerable cantos,--I have sometimes seen a pleasure-boat +drifting along, her sail flapping, and she seeming as if she had neither +will nor aim. At her stern a man was laboring to bring her head round +with an oar, to little purpose, as it seemed to those who watched him +pulling and tugging. But all at once the wind of heaven, which had +wandered all the way from Florida or from Labrador, it may be, struck +full upon the sail, and it swelled and rounded itself, like a white bosom +that had burst its bodice, and-- + +--You are right; it is too true! but how I love these pretty phrases! I +am afraid I am becoming an epicure in words, which is a bad thing to be, +unless it is dominated by something infinitely better than itself. But +there is a fascination in the mere sound of articulated breath; of +consonants that resist with the firmness of a maid of honor, or half or +wholly yield to the wooing lips; of vowels that flow and murmur, each +after its kind; the peremptory b and p, the brittle k, the vibrating r, +the insinuating s, the feathery f, the velvety v, the bell-voiced m, the +tranquil broad a, the penetrating e, the cooing u, the emotional o, and +the beautiful combinations of alternate rock and stream, as it were, that +they give to the rippling flow of speech,--there is a fascination in the +skilful handling of these, which the great poets and even prose-writers +have not disdained to acknowledge and use to recommend their thought. +What do you say to this line of Homer as a piece of poetical full-band +music? I know you read the Greek characters with perfect ease, but +permit me, just for my own satisfaction, to put it into English +letters:-- + + Aigle pamphanoosa di' aitheros ouranon ike! + +as if he should have spoken in our poorer phrase of + + Splendor far shining through ether to heaven ascending. + +That Greek line, which I do not remember having heard mention of as +remarkable, has nearly every consonantal and vowel sound in the language. +Try it by the Greek and by the English alphabet; it is a curiosity. Tell +me that old Homer did not roll his sightless eyeballs about with delight, +as he thundered out these ringing syllables! It seems hard to think of +his going round like a hand-organ man, with such music and such thought +as his to earn his bread with. One can't help wishing that Mr. Pugh +could have got at him for a single lecture, at least, of the "Star +Course," or that he could have appeared in the Music Hall, "for this +night only." + +--I know I have rambled, but I hope you see that this is a delicate way +of letting you into the nature of the individual who is, officially, the +principal personage at our table. It would hardly do to describe him +directly, you know. But you must not think, because the lightning +zigzags, it does not know where to strike. + +I shall try to go through the rest of my description of our boarders with +as little of digression as is consistent with my nature. I think we have +a somewhat exceptional company. Since our Landlady has got up in the +world, her board has been decidedly a favorite with persons a little +above the average in point of intelligence and education. In fact, ever +since a boarder of hers, not wholly unknown to the reading public, +brought her establishment into notice, it has attracted a considerable +number of literary and scientific people, and now and then a politician, +like the Member of the House of Representatives, otherwise called the +Great and General Court of the State of Massachusetts. The consequence +is, that there is more individuality of character than in a good many +similar boardinghouses, where all are business-men, engrossed in the same +pursuit of money-making, or all are engaged in politics, and so deeply +occupied with the welfare of the community that they can think and talk +of little else. + +At my left hand sits as singular-looking a human being as I remember +seeing outside of a regular museum or tent-show. His black coat shines +as if it had been polished; and it has been polished on the wearer's +back, no doubt, for the arms and other points of maximum attrition are +particularly smooth and bright. Round shoulders,--stooping over some +minute labor, I suppose. Very slender limbs, with bends like a +grasshopper's; sits a great deal, I presume; looks as if he might +straighten them out all of a sudden, and jump instead of walking. Wears +goggles very commonly; says it rests his eyes, which he strains in +looking at very small objects. Voice has a dry creak, as if made by some +small piece of mechanism that wanted oiling. I don't think he is a +botanist, for he does not smell of dried herbs, but carries a camphorated +atmosphere about with him, as if to keep the moths from attacking him. I +must find out what is his particular interest. One ought to know +something about his immediate neighbors at the table. This is what I +said to myself, before opening a conversation with him. Everybody in our +ward of the city was in a great stir about a certain election, and I +thought I might as well begin with that as anything. + +--How do you think the vote is likely to go tomorrow?--I said. + +--It isn't to-morrow,--he answered,--it 's next month. + +--Next month!--said I.---Why, what election do you mean? + +--I mean the election to the Presidency of the Entomological Society, +sir,--he creaked, with an air of surprise, as if nobody could by any +possibility have been thinking of any other. Great competition, sir, +between the dipterists and the lepidopterists as to which shall get in +their candidate. Several close ballotings already; adjourned for a +fortnight. Poor concerns, both of 'em. Wait till our turn comes. + +--I suppose you are an entomologist?--I said with a note of +interrogation. + +-Not quite so ambitious as that, sir. I should like to put my eyes on +the individual entitled to that name! A society may call itself an +Entomological Society, but the man who arrogates such a broad title as +that to himself, in the present state of science, is a pretender, sir, a +dilettante, an impostor! No man can be truly called an entomologist, +sir; the subject is too vast for any single human intelligence to grasp. + +--May I venture to ask,--I said, a little awed by his statement and +manner,--what is your special province of study? + +I am often spoken of as a Coleopterist,--he said,--but I have no right to +so comprehensive a name. The genus Scarabaeus is what I have chiefly +confined myself to, and ought to have studied exclusively. The beetles +proper are quite enough for the labor of one man's life. Call me a +Scarabaeist if you will; if I can prove myself worthy of that name, my +highest ambition will be more than satisfied. + +I think, by way of compromise and convenience, I shall call him the +Scarabee. He has come to look wonderfully like those creatures,--the +beetles, I mean,---by being so much among them. His room is hung round +with cases of them, each impaled on a pin driven through him, something +as they used to bury suicides. These cases take the place for him of +pictures and all other ornaments. That Boy steals into his room +sometimes, and stares at them with great admiration, and has himself +undertaken to form a rival cabinet, chiefly consisting of flies, so far, +arranged in ranks superintended by an occasional spider. + +The old Master, who is a bachelor, has a kindly feeling for this little +monkey, and those of his kind. + +--I like children,--he said to me one day at table,--I like 'em, and I +respect 'em. Pretty much all the honest truth-telling there is in the +world is done by them. Do you know they play the part in the household +which the king's jester, who very often had a mighty long head under his +cap and bells, used to play for a monarch? There 's no radical club like +a nest of little folks in a nursery. Did you ever watch a baby's +fingers? I have, often enough, though I never knew what it was to own +one.---The Master paused half a minute or so,--sighed,--perhaps at +thinking what he had missed in life,--looked up at me a little vacantly. +I saw what was the matter; he had lost the thread of his talk. + +--Baby's fingers,--I intercalated. + +-Yes, yes; did you ever see how they will poke those wonderful little +fingers of theirs into every fold and crack and crevice they can get at? +That is their first education, feeling their way into the solid facts of +the material world. When they begin to talk it is the same thing over +again in another shape. If there is a crack or a flaw in your answer to +their confounded shoulder-hitting questions, they will poke and poke +until they have got it gaping just as the baby's fingers have made a rent +out of that atom of a hole in his pinafore that your old eyes never took +notice of. Then they make such fools of us by copying on a small scale +what we do in the grand manner. I wonder if it ever occurs to our +dried-up neighbor there to ask himself whether That Boy's collection of +flies is n't about as significant in the Order of Things as his own +Museum of Beetles? + +--I couldn't help thinking that perhaps That Boy's questions about the +simpler mysteries of life might have a good deal of the same kind of +significance as the Master's inquiries into the Order of Things. + +--On my left, beyond my next neighbor the Scarabee, at the end of the +table, sits a person of whom we know little, except that he carries about +him more palpable reminiscences of tobacco and the allied sources of +comfort than a very sensitive organization might find acceptable. The +Master does not seem to like him much, for some reason or other,--perhaps +he has a special aversion to the odor of tobacco. As his forefinger +shows a little too distinctly that he uses a pen, I shall compliment him +by calling him the Man of Letters, until I find out more about him. + +--The Young Girl who sits on my right, next beyond the Master, can hardly +be more than nineteen or twenty years old. I wish I could paint her so +as to interest others as much as she does me. But she has not a +profusion of sunny tresses wreathing a neck of alabaster, and a cheek +where the rose and the lily are trying to settle their old quarrel with +alternating victory. Her hair is brown, her cheek is delicately pallid, +her forehead is too ample for a ball-room beauty's. A single faint line +between the eyebrows is the record of long--continued anxious efforts to +please in the task she has chosen, or rather which has been forced upon +her. It is the same line of anxious and conscientious effort which I saw +not long since on the forehead of one of the sweetest and truest singers +who has visited us; the same which is so striking on the masks of singing +women painted upon the facade of our Great Organ,--that Himalayan home of +harmony which you are to see and then die, if you don't live where you +can see and hear it often. Many deaths have happened in a neighboring +large city from that well-known complaint, Icterus Invidiosorum, after +returning from a visit to the Music Hall. The invariable symptom of a +fatal attack is the Risus Sardonicus.--But the Young Girl. She gets her +living by writing stories for a newspaper. Every week she furnishes a +new story. If her head aches or her heart is heavy, so that she does not +come to time with her story, she falls behindhand and has to live on +credit. It sounds well enough to say that "she supports herself by her +pen," but her lot is a trying one; it repeats the doom of the Danaides. +The "Weekly Bucket" has no bottom, and it is her business to help fill +it. Imagine for one moment what it is to tell a tale that must flow on, +flow ever, without pausing; the lover miserable and happy this week, to +begin miserable again next week and end as before; the villain scowling, +plotting, punished; to scowl, plot, and get punished again in our next; +an endless series of woes and busses, into each paragraph of which the +forlorn artist has to throw all the liveliness, all the emotion, all the +graces of style she is mistress of, for the wages of a maid of all work, +and no more recognition or thanks from anybody than the apprentice who +sets the types for the paper that prints her ever-ending and +ever-beginning stories. And yet she has a pretty talent, sensibility, a +natural way of writing, an ear for the music of verse, in which she +sometimes indulges to vary the dead monotony of everlasting narrative, +and a sufficient amount of invention to make her stories readable. I +have found my eyes dimmed over them oftener than once, more with thinking +about her, perhaps, than about her heroes and heroines. Poor little +body! Poor little mind! Poor little soul! She is one of that great +company of delicate, intelligent, emotional young creatures, who are +waiting, like that sail I spoke of, for some breath of heaven to fill +their white bosoms,--love, the right of every woman; religious emotion, +sister of love, with the same passionate eyes, but cold, thin, bloodless +hands,--some enthusiasm of humanity or divinity; and find that life +offers them, instead, a seat on a wooden bench, a chain to fasten them to +it, and a heavy oar to pull day and night. We read the Arabian tales and +pity the doomed lady who must amuse her lord and master from day to day +or have her head cut off; how much better is a mouth without bread to +fill it than no mouth at all to fill, because no head? We have all round +us a weary-eyed company of Scheherezades! This is one of them, and I may +call her by that name when it pleases me to do so. + +The next boarder I have to mention is the one who sits between the Young +Girl and the Landlady. In a little chamber into which a small thread of +sunshine finds its way for half an hour or so every day during a month or +six weeks of the spring or autumn, at all other times obliged to content +itself with ungilded daylight, lives this boarder, whom, without wronging +any others of our company, I may call, as she is very generally called in +the household, The Lady. In giving her this name it is not meant that +there are no other ladies at our table, or that the handmaids who serve +us are not ladies, or to deny the general proposition that everybody who +wears the unbifurcated garment is entitled to that appellation. Only +this lady has a look and manner which there is no mistaking as belonging +to a person always accustomed to refined and elegant society. Her style +is perhaps a little more courtly and gracious than some would like. The +language and manner which betray the habitual desire of pleasing, and +which add a charm to intercourse in the higher social circles, are liable +to be construed by sensitive beings unused to such amenities as an odious +condescension when addressed to persons of less consideration than the +accused, and as a still more odious--you know the word--when directed to +those who are esteemed by the world as considerable person ages. But of +all this the accused are fortunately wholly unconscious, for there is +nothing so entirely natural and unaffected as the highest breeding. + +From an aspect of dignified but undisguised economy which showed itself +in her dress as well as in her limited quarters, I suspected a story of +shipwrecked fortune, and determined to question our Landlady. That +worthy woman was delighted to tell the history of her most distinguished +boarder. She was, as I had supposed, a gentlewoman whom a change of +circumstances had brought down from her high estate. + +--Did I know the Goldenrod family?--Of course I did.---Well, the Lady, +was first cousin to Mrs. Midas Goldenrod. She had been here in her +carriage to call upon her,--not very often.---Were her rich relations +kind and helpful to her?--Well, yes; at least they made her presents now +and then. Three or four years ago they sent her a silver waiter, and +every Christmas they sent her a boquet,--it must cost as much as five +dollars, the Landlady thought. + +--And how did the Lady receive these valuable and useful gifts? + +--Every Christmas she got out the silver waiter and borrowed a glass +tumbler and filled it with water, and put the boquet in it and set it on +the waiter. It smelt sweet enough and looked pretty for a day or two, +but the Landlady thought it wouldn't have hurt 'em if they'd sent a piece +of goods for a dress, or at least a pocket-handkercher or two, or +something or other that she could 'a' made some kind of use of; but +beggars must n't be choosers; not that she was a beggar, for she'd sooner +die than do that if she was in want of a meal of victuals. There was a +lady I remember, and she had a little boy and she was a widow, and after +she'd buried her husband she was dreadful poor, and she was ashamed to +let her little boy go out in his old shoes, and copper-toed shoes they +was too, because his poor little ten--toes--was a coming out of 'em; and +what do you think my husband's rich uncle,--well, there now, it was me +and my little Benjamin, as he was then, there's no use in hiding of +it,--and what do you think my husband's uncle sent me but a plaster of +Paris image of a young woman, that was,--well, her appearance wasn't +respectable, and I had to take and wrap her up in a towel and poke her +right into my closet, and there she stayed till she got her head broke +and served her right, for she was n't fit to show folks. You need n't +say anything about what I told you, but the fact is I was desperate poor +before I began to support myself taking boarders, and a lone woman +without her--her-- + +The sentence plunged into the gulf of her great remembered sorrow, and +was lost to the records of humanity. + +--Presently she continued in answer to my questions: The Lady was not +very sociable; kept mostly to herself. The Young Girl (our Scheherezade) +used to visit her sometimes, and they seemed to like each other, but the +Young Girl had not many spare hours for visiting. The Lady never found +fault, but she was very nice in her tastes, and kept everything about her +looking as neat and pleasant as she could. + +---What did she do?--Why, she read, and she drew pictures, and she did +needlework patterns, and played on an old harp she had; the gilt was +mostly off, but it sounded very sweet, and she sung to it sometimes, +those old songs that used to be in fashion twenty or thirty years ago, +with words to 'em that folks could understand. + +Did she do anything to help support herself?--The Landlady couldn't say +she did, but she thought there was rich people enough that ought to buy +the flowers and things she worked and painted. + +All this points to the fact that she was bred to be an ornamental rather +than what is called a useful member of society. This is all very well so +long as fortune favors those who are chosen to be the ornamental +personages; but if the golden tide recedes and leaves them stranded, they +are more to be pitied than almost any other class. "I cannot dig, to beg +I am ashamed." + +I think it is unpopular in this country to talk much about gentlemen and +gentlewomen. People are touchy about social distinctions, which no doubt +are often invidious and quite arbitrary and accidental, but which it is +impossible to avoid recognizing as facts of natural history. Society +stratifies itself everywhere, and the stratum which is generally +recognized as the uppermost will be apt to have the advantage in easy +grace of manner and in unassuming confidence, and consequently be more +agreeable in the superficial relations of life. To compare these +advantages with the virtues and utilities would be foolish. Much of the +noblest work in life is done by ill-dressed, awkward, ungainly persons; +but that is no more reason for undervaluing good manners and what we call +high-breeding, than the fact that the best part of the sturdy labor of +the world is done by men with exceptionable hands is to be urged against +the use of Brown Windsor as a preliminary to appearance in cultivated +society. + +I mean to stand up for this poor lady, whose usefulness in the world is +apparently problematical. She seems to me like a picture which has +fallen from its gilded frame and lies, face downward, on the dusty floor. +The picture never was as needful as a window or a door, but it was +pleasant to see it in its place, and it would be pleasant to see it there +again, and I, for one, should be thankful to have the Lady restored by +some turn of fortune to the position from which she has been so cruelly +cast down. + +--I have asked the Landlady about the young man sitting near her, the +same who attracted my attention the other day while I was talking, as I +mentioned. He passes most of his time in a private observatory, it +appears; a watcher of the stars. That I suppose gives the peculiar look +to his lustrous eyes. The Master knows him and was pleased to tell me +something about him. + +You call yourself a Poet,--he said,--and we call you so, too, and so you +are; I read your verses and like 'em. But that young man lives in a +world beyond the imagination of poets, let me tell you. The daily home +of his thought is in illimitable space, hovering between the two +eternities. In his contemplations the divisions of time run together, as +in the thought of his Maker. With him also,--I say it not +profanely,--one day is as a thousand years and a thousand years as one +day. + +This account of his occupation increased the interest his look had +excited in me, and I have observed him more particularly and found out +more about him. Sometimes, after a long night's watching, he looks so +pale and worn, that one would think the cold moonlight had stricken him +with some malign effluence such as it is fabled to send upon those who +sleep in it. At such times he seems more like one who has come from a +planet farther away from the sun than our earth, than like one of us +terrestrial creatures. His home is truly in the heavens, and he +practises an asceticism in the cause of science almost comparable to that +of Saint Simeon Stylites. Yet they tell me he might live in luxury if he +spent on himself what he spends on science. His knowledge is of that +strange, remote character, that it seems sometimes almost superhuman. He +knows the ridges and chasms of the moon as a surveyor knows a garden-plot +he has measured. He watches the snows that gather around the poles of +Mars; he is on the lookout for the expected comet at the moment when its +faint stain of diffused light first shows itself; he analyzes the ray +that comes from the sun's photosphere; he measures the rings of Saturn; +he counts his asteroids to see that none are missing, as the shepherd +counts the sheep in his flock. A strange unearthly being; lonely, +dwelling far apart from the thoughts and cares of the planet on which he +lives,--an enthusiast who gives his life to knowledge; a student of +antiquity, to whom the records of the geologist are modern pages in the +great volume of being, and the pyramids a memorandum of yesterday, as the +eclipse or occultation that is to take place thousands of years hence is +an event of to-morrow in the diary without beginning and without end +where he enters the aspect of the passing moment as it is read on the +celestial dial. + +In very marked contrast with this young man is the something more than +middle-aged Register of Deeds, a rusty, sallow, smoke-dried looking +personage, who belongs to this earth as exclusively as the other belongs +to the firmament. His movements are as mechanical as those of a +pendulum,--to the office, where he changes his coat and plunges into +messuages and building-lots; then, after changing his coat again, back to +our table, and so, day by day, the dust of years gradually gathering +around him as it does on the old folios that fill the shelves all round +the great cemetery of past transactions of which he is the sexton. + +Of the Salesman who sits next him, nothing need be said except that he is +good-looking, rosy, well-dressed, and of very polite manners, only a +little more brisk than the approved style of carriage permits, as one in +the habit of springing with a certain alacrity at the call of a customer. + +You would like to see, I don't doubt, how we sit at the table, and I will +help you by means of a diagram which shows the present arrangement of our +seats. + + 4 3 2 1 14 13 + ---------------------------------- + | O O O O O O | + | | + 5 | O Breakfast-Table O |12 + | | + | O O O O O O | + ---------------------------------- + 6 7 8 9 10 11 + + 1. The Poet. + 2. The Master Of Arts. + 3. The Young Girl (Scheherezade). + 4. The Lady. + 5. The Landlady. + 6. Dr. B. Franklin. + 7. That Boy. + 8. The Astronomer. + 9. The Member of the Haouse. + 10. The Register of Deeds. + 11. The Salesman. + 12. The Capitalist. + 13. The Man of Letters(?). + 14. The Scarabee. + +Our young Scheherezade varies her prose stories now and then, as I told +you, with compositions in verse, one or two of which she has let me look +over. Here is one of them, which she allowed me to copy. It is from a +story of hers, "The Sun-Worshipper's Daughter," which you may find in the +periodical before mentioned, to which she is a contributor, if your can +lay your hand upon a file of it. I think our Scheherezade has never had +a lover in human shape, or she would not play so lightly with the +firebrands of the great passion. + + FANTASIA. + + Kiss mine eyelids, beauteous Morn, + Blushing into life new-born! + Lend me violets for my hair, + And thy russet robe to wear, + And thy ring of rosiest hue + Set in drops of diamond dew! + + Kiss my cheek, thou noontide ray, + From my Love so far away! + Let thy splendor streaming down + Turn its pallid lilies brown, + Till its darkening shades reveal + Where his passion pressed its seal! + + Kiss my lips, thou Lord of light, + Kiss my lips a soft good night! + Westward sinks thy golden car; + Leave me but the evening star, + And my solace that shall be, + Borrowing all its light from thee! + + + + +III + +The old Master was talking about a concert he had been to hear.--I don't +like your chopped music anyway. That woman--she had more sense in her +little finger than forty medical societies--Florence Nightingale--says +that the music you pour out is good for sick folks, and the music you +pound out isn't. Not that exactly, but something like it. I have been +to hear some music-pounding. It was a young woman, with as many white +muslin flounces round her as the planet Saturn has rings, that did it. +She--gave the music-stool a twirl or two and fluffed down on to it like a +whirl of soap-suds in a hand-basin. Then she pushed up her cuffs as if +she was going to fight for the champion's belt. Then she worked her +wrists and her hands, to limber 'em, I suppose, and spread out her +fingers till they looked as though they would pretty much cover the +key-board, from the growling end to the little squeaky one. Then those +two hands of hers made a jump at the keys as if they were a couple of +tigers coming down on a flock of black and white sheep, and the piano +gave a great howl as if its tail had been trod on. Dead stop,--so still +you could hear your hair growing. Then another jump, and another howl, +as if the piano had two tails and you had trod on both of 'em at once, +and, then a grand clatter and scramble and string of jumps, up and down, +back and forward, one hand over the other, like a stampede of rats and +mice more than like anything I call music. I like to hear a woman sing, +and I like to hear a fiddle sing, but these noises they hammer out of +their wood and ivory anvils--don't talk to me, I know the difference +between a bullfrog and a woodthrush and-- + +Pop! went a small piece of artillery such as is made of a stick of elder +and carries a pellet of very moderate consistency. That Boy was in his +seat and looking demure enough, but there could be no question that he +was the artillery-man who had discharged the missile. The aim was not a +bad one, for it took the Master full in the forehead, and had the effect +of checking the flow of his eloquence. How the little monkey had learned +to time his interruptions I do not know, but I have observed more than +once before this, that the popgun would go off just at the moment when +some one of the company was getting too energetic or prolix. The Boy +isn't old enough to judge for himself when to intervene to change the +order of conversation; no, of course he isn't. Somebody must give him a +hint. Somebody.--Who is it? I suspect Dr. B. Franklin. He looks too +knowing. There is certainly a trick somewhere. Why, a day or two ago I +was myself discoursing, with considerable effect, as I thought, on some +of the new aspects of humanity, when I was struck full on the cheek by +one of these little pellets, and there was such a confounded laugh that I +had to wind up and leave off with a preposition instead of a good +mouthful of polysyllables. I have watched our young Doctor, however, and +have been entirely unable to detect any signs of communication between +him and this audacious child, who is like to become a power among us, for +that popgun is fatal to any talker who is hit by its pellet. I have +suspected a foot under the table as the prompter, but I have been unable +to detect the slightest movement or look as if he were making one, on the +part of Dr. Benjamin Franklin. I cannot help thinking of the flappers in +Swift's Laputa, only they gave one a hint when to speak and another a +hint to listen, whereas the popgun says unmistakably, "Shut up!" + +--I should be sorry to lose my confidence in Dr. B. Franklin, who seems +very much devoted to his business, and whom I mean to consult about some +small symptoms I have had lately. Perhaps it is coming to a new +boarding-house. The young people who come into Paris from the provinces +are very apt--so I have been told by one that knows--to have an attack of +typhoid fever a few weeks or months after their arrival. I have not been +long enough at this table to get well acclimated; perhaps that is it. +Boarding-House Fever. Something like horse-ail, very likely,--horses get +it, you know, when they are brought to city stables. A little "off my +feed," as Hiram Woodruff would say. A queer discoloration about my +forehead. Query, a bump? Cannot remember any. Might have got it against +bedpost or something while asleep. Very unpleasant to look so. I wonder +how my portrait would look, if anybody should take it now! I hope not +quite so badly as one I saw the other day, which I took for the end man +of the Ethiopian Serenaders, or some traveller who had been exploring the +sources of the Niger, until I read the name at the bottom and found it +was a face I knew as well as my own. + +I must consult somebody, and it is nothing more than fair to give our +young Doctor a chance. Here goes for Dr. Benjamin Franklin. + +The young Doctor has a very small office and a very large sign, with a +transparency at night big enough for an oyster-shop. These young doctors +are particularly strong, as I understand, on what they call +diagnosis,--an excellent branch of the healing art, full of satisfaction +to the curious practitioner, who likes to give the right Latin name to +one's complaint; not quite so satisfactory to the patient, as it is not +so very much pleasanter to be bitten by a dog with a collar round his +neck telling you that he is called Snap or Teaser, than by a dog without +a collar. Sometimes, in fact, one would a little rather not know the +exact name of his complaint, as if he does he is pretty sure to look it +out in a medical dictionary, and then if he reads, This terrible disease +is attended with vast suffering and is inevitably mortal, or any such +statement, it is apt to affect him unpleasantly. + +I confess to a little shakiness when I knocked at Dr. Benjamin's office +door. "Come in!" exclaimed Dr. B. F. in tones that sounded ominous and +sepulchral. And I went in. + +I don't believe the chambers of the Inquisition ever presented a more +alarming array of implements for extracting a confession, than our young +Doctor's office did of instruments to make nature tell what was the +matter with a poor body. + +There were Ophthalmoscopes and Rhinoscopes and Otoscopes and +Laryngoscopes and Stethoscopes; and Thermometers and Spirometers and +Dynamometers and Sphygmometers and Pleximeters; and Probes and Probangs +and all sorts of frightful inquisitive exploring contrivances; and scales +to weigh you in, and tests and balances and pumps and electro-magnets and +magneto-electric machines; in short, apparatus for doing everything but +turn you inside out. + +Dr. Benjamin set me down before his one window and began looking at me +with such a superhuman air of sagacity, that I felt like one of those +open-breasted clocks which make no secret of their inside arrangements, +and almost thought he could see through me as one sees through a shrimp +or a jelly-fish. First he looked at the place inculpated, which had a +sort of greenish-brown color, with his naked eyes, with much corrugation +of forehead and fearful concentration of attention; then through a +pocket-glass which he carried. Then he drew back a space, for a +perspective view. Then he made me put out my tongue and laid a slip of +blue paper on it, which turned red and scared me a little. Next he took +my wrist; but instead of counting my pulse in the old-fashioned way, he +fastened a machine to it that marked all the beats on a sheet of +paper,--for all the world like a scale of the heights of mountains, say +from Mount Tom up to Chimborazo and then down again, and up again, and so +on. In the mean time he asked me all sorts of questions about myself and +all my relatives, whether we had been subject to this and that malady, +until I felt as if we must some of us have had more or less of them, and +could not feel quite sure whether Elephantiasis and Beriberi and +Progressive Locomotor Ataxy did not run in the family. + +After all this overhauling of myself and my history, he paused and looked +puzzled. Something was suggested about what he called an "exploratory +puncture." This I at once declined, with thanks. Suddenly a thought +struck him. He looked still more closely at the discoloration I have +spoken of. + +--Looks like--I declare it reminds me of--very rare! very curious! It +would be strange if my first case--of this kind--should be one of our +boarders! + +What kind of a case do you call it?--I said, with a sort of feeling that +he could inflict a severe or a light malady on me, as if he were a judge +passing sentence. + +--The color reminds me,--said Dr. B. Franklin,--of what I have seen in a +case of Addison's Disease, Morbus Addisonii. + +--But my habits are quite regular,--I said; for I remembered that the +distinguished essayist was too fond of his brandy and water, and I +confess that the thought was not pleasant to me of following Dr. +Johnson's advice, with the slight variation of giving my days and my +nights to trying on the favorite maladies of Addison. + +--Temperance people are subject to it!--exclaimed Dr. Benjamin, almost +exultingly, I thought. + +--But I had the impression that the author of the Spectator was afflicted +with a dropsy, or some such inflated malady, to which persons of +sedentary and bibacious habits are liable. [A literary swell,--I thought +to myself, but I did not say it. I felt too serious.] + +--The author of the Spectator!--cried out Dr. Benjamin,--I mean the +celebrated Dr. Addison, inventor, I would say discoverer, of the +wonderful new disease called after him. + +---And what may this valuable invention or discovery consist in?--I +asked, for I was curious to know the nature of the gift which this +benefactor of the race had bestowed upon us. + +--A most interesting affection, and rare, too. Allow me to look closely +at that discoloration once more for a moment. Cutis cenea, bronze skin, +they call it sometimes--extraordinary pigmentation--a little more to the +light, if you please--ah! now I get the bronze coloring admirably, +beautifully! Would you have any objection to showing your case to the +Societies of Medical Improvement and Medical Observation? + +[--My case! O dear!] May I ask if any vital organ is commonly involved +in this interesting complaint?--I said, faintly. + +--Well, sir,--the young Doctor replied,--there is an organ which is +--sometimes--a little touched, I may say; a very curious and ingenious +little organ or pair of organs. Did you ever hear of the Capsulae, +Suprarenales? + +--No,--said I,--is it a mortal complaint?--I ought to have known better +than to ask such a question, but I was getting nervous and thinking about +all sorts of horrid maladies people are liable to, with horrid names to +match. + +--It is n't a complaint,--I mean they are not a complaint,--they are two +small organs, as I said, inside of you, and nobody knows what is the use +of them. The most curious thing is that when anything is the matter with +them you turn of the color of bronze. After all, I didn't mean to say I +believed it was Morbus Addisonii; I only thought of that when I saw the +discoloration. + +So he gave me a recipe, which I took care to put where it could do no +hurt to anybody, and I paid him his fee (which he took with the air of a +man in the receipt of a great income) and said Good-morning. + +--What in the name of a thousand diablos is the reason these confounded +doctors will mention their guesses about "a case," as they call it, and +all its conceivable possibilities, out loud before their patients? I +don't suppose there is anything in all this nonsense about "Addison's +Disease," but I wish he hadn't spoken of that very interesting ailment, +and I should feel a little easier if that discoloration would leave my +forehead. I will ask the Landlady about it,--these old women often know +more than the young doctors just come home with long names for everything +they don't know how to cure. But the name of this complaint sets me +thinking. Bronzed skin! What an odd idea! Wonder if it spreads all +over one. That would be picturesque and pleasant, now, wouldn't it? To +be made a living statue of,--nothing to do but strike an attitude. Arm +up--so--like the one in the Garden. John of Bologna's Mercury--thus on +one foot. Needy knife-grinder in the Tribune at Florence. No, not +"needy," come to think of it. Marcus Aurelius on horseback. Query. Are +horses subject to the Morbus Addisonii? Advertise for a bronzed living +horse--Lyceum invitations and engagements--bronze versus brass.---What 's +the use in being frightened? Bet it was a bump. Pretty certain I bumped +my forehead against something. Never heard of a bronzed man before. +Have seen white men, black men, red men, yellow men, two or three blue +men, stained with doctor's stuff; some green ones, from the country; but +never a bronzed man. Poh, poh! Sure it was a bump. Ask Landlady to look +at it. + +--Landlady did look at it. Said it was a bump, and no mistake. +Recommended a piece of brown paper dipped in vinegar. Made the house +smell as if it were in quarantine for the plague from Smyrna, but +discoloration soon disappeared,--so I did not become a bronzed man after +all,--hope I never shall while I am alive. Should n't mind being done in +bronze after I was dead. On second thoughts not so clear about it, +remembering how some of them look that we have got stuck up in public; +think I had rather go down to posterity in an Ethiopian Minstrel +portrait, like our friend's the other day. + +--You were kind enough to say, I remarked to the Master, that you read my +poems and liked them. Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me what +it is you like about them? + +The Master harpooned a breakfast-roll and held it up before me.--Will you +tell me,--he said,--why you like that breakfast-roll?--I suppose he +thought that would stop my mouth in two senses. But he was mistaken. + +--To be sure I will,--said I.---First, I like its mechanical consistency; +brittle externally,--that is for the teeth, which want resistance to be +overcome; soft, spongy, well tempered and flavored internally, that is +for the organ of taste; wholesome, nutritious,--that is for the internal +surfaces and the system generally. + +--Good,--said the Master, and laughed a hearty terrestrial laugh. + +I hope he will carry that faculty of an honest laugh with him wherever he +goes,--why shouldn't he? The "order of things," as he calls it, from +which hilarity was excluded, would be crippled and one-sided enough. I +don't believe the human gamut will be cheated of a single note after men +have done breathing this fatal atmospheric mixture and die into the ether +of immortality! + +I did n't say all that; if I had said it, it would have brought a pellet +from the popgun, I feel quite certain. + +The Master went on after he had had out his laugh.--There is one thing I +am His Imperial Majesty about, and that is my likes and dislikes. What +if I do like your verses,--you can't help yourself. I don't doubt +somebody or other hates 'em and hates you and everything you do, or ever +did, or ever can do. He is all right; there is nothing you or I like +that somebody does n't hate. Was there ever anything wholesome that was +not poison to somebody? If you hate honey or cheese, or the products of +the dairy,--I know a family a good many of whose members can't touch +milk, butter, cheese, and the like, why, say so, but don't find fault +with the bees and the cows. Some are afraid of roses, and I have known +those who thought a pond-lily a disagreeable neighbor. That Boy will +give you the metaphysics of likes and dislikes. Look here,--you young +philosopher over there,--do you like candy? + +That Boy.---You bet! Give me a stick and see if I don't. + +And can you tell me why you like candy? + +That Boy.--Because I do. + +--There, now, that is the whole matter in a nutshell. Why do your teeth +like crackling crust, and your organs of taste like spongy crumb, and +your digestive contrivances take kindly to bread rather than toadstools-- + +That Boy (thinking he was still being catechised).--Because they do. + +Whereupon the Landlady said, Sh! and the Young Girl laughed, and the Lady +smiled; and Dr. Ben Franklin kicked him, moderately, under the table, and +the Astronomer looked up at the ceiling to see what had happened, and the +Member of the Haouse cried, Order! Order! and the Salesman said, Shut +up, cash-boy! and the rest of the boarders kept on feeding; except the +Master, who looked very hard but half approvingly at the small intruder, +who had come about as nearly right as most professors would have done. + +--You poets,--the Master said after this excitement had calmed down, +--you poets have one thing about you that is odd. You talk about +everything as if you knew more about it than the people whose business it +is to know all about it. I suppose you do a little of what we teachers +used to call "cramming" now and then? + +--If you like your breakfast you must n't ask the cook too many +questions,--I answered. + +--Oh, come now, don't be afraid of letting out your secrets. I have a +notion I can tell a poet that gets himself up just as I can tell a +make-believe old man on the stage by the line where the gray skullcap +joins the smooth forehead of the young fellow of seventy. You'll confess +to a rhyming dictionary anyhow, won't you? + +--I would as lief use that as any other dictionary, but I don't want it. +When a word comes up fit to end a line with I can feel all the rhymes in +the language that are fit to go with it without naming them. I have +tried them all so many times, I know all the polygamous words and all the +monogamous ones, and all the unmarrying ones,--the whole lot that have no +mates,--as soon as I hear their names called. Sometimes I run over a +string of rhymes, but generally speaking it is strange what a short list +it is of those that are good for anything. That is the pitiful side of +all rhymed verse. Take two such words as home and world. What can you +do with chrome or loam or gnome or tome? You have dome, foam, and roam, +and not much more to use in your pome, as some of our fellow-countrymen +call it. As for world, you know that in all human probability somebody +or something will be hurled into it or out of it; its clouds may be +furled or its grass impearled; possibly something may be whirled, or +curled, or have swirled, one of Leigh Hunt's words, which with lush, one +of Keats's, is an important part of the stock in trade of some dealers in +rhyme. + +--And how much do you versifiers know of all those arts and sciences you +refer to as if you were as familiar with them as a cobbler is with his +wax and lapstone? + +--Enough not to make too many mistakes. The best way is to ask some +expert before one risks himself very far in illustrations from a branch +he does not know much about. Suppose, for instance, I wanted to use the +double star to illustrate anything, say the relation of two human souls +to each other, what would I--do? Why, I would ask our young friend there +to let me look at one of those loving celestial pairs through his +telescope, and I don't doubt he'd let me do so, and tell me their names +and all I wanted to know about them. + +--I should be most happy to show any of the double stars or whatever else +there might be to see in the heavens to any of our friends at this +table,--the young man said, so cordially and kindly that it was a real +invitation. + +--Show us the man in the moon,--said That Boy.---I should so like to see +a double star!--said Scheherezade, with a very pretty air of smiling +modesty. + +--Will you go, if we make up a party?--I asked the Master. + +--A cold in the head lasts me from three to five days,--answered the +Master.--I am not so very fond of being out in the dew like +Nebuchadnezzar: that will do for you young folks. + +--I suppose I must be one of the young folks, not so young as our +Scheherezade, nor so old as the Capitalist,--young enough at any rate to +want to be of the party. So we agreed that on some fair night when the +Astronomer should tell us that there was to be a fine show in the skies, +we would make up a party and go to the Observatory. I asked the Scarabee +whether he would not like to make one of us. + +--Out of the question, sir, out of the question. I am altogether too +much occupied with an important scientific investigation to devote any +considerable part of an evening to star-gazing. + +--Oh, indeed,--said I,--and may I venture to ask on what particular point +you are engaged just at present? + +-Certainly, sir, you may. It is, I suppose, as difficult and important a +matter to be investigated as often comes before a student of natural +history. I wish to settle the point once for all whether the Pediculus +Mellitae is or is not the larva of Meloe. + +[--Now is n't this the drollest world to live in that one could imagine, +short of being in a fit of delirium tremens? Here is a fellow-creature +of mine and yours who is asked to see all the glories of the firmament +brought close to him, and he is too busy with a little unmentionable +parasite that infests the bristly surface of a bee to spare an hour or +two of a single evening for the splendors of the universe! I must get a +peep through that microscope of his and see the pediculus which occupies +a larger space in his mental vision than the midnight march of the solar +systems.---The creature, the human one, I mean, interests me.] + +--I am very curious,--I said,--about that pediculus melittae,--(just as +if I knew a good deal about the little wretch and wanted to know more, +whereas I had never heard him spoken of before, to my knowledge,)--could +you let me have a sight of him in your microscope? + +--You ought to have seen the way in which the poor dried-up little +Scarabee turned towards me. His eyes took on a really human look, and I +almost thought those antennae-like arms of his would have stretched +themselves out and embraced me. I don't believe any of the boarders had +ever shown any interest in--him, except the little monkey of a Boy, since +he had been in the house. It is not strange; he had not seemed to me +much like a human being, until all at once I touched the one point where +his vitality had concentrated itself, and he stood revealed a man and a +brother. + +--Come in,--said he,--come in, right after breakfast, and you shall see +the animal that has convulsed the entomological world with questions as +to his nature and origin. + +--So I went into the Scarabee's parlor, lodging-room, study, laboratory, +and museum,--a--single apartment applied to these various uses, you +understand. + +--I wish I had time to have you show me all your treasures,--I said, +--but I am afraid I shall hardly be able to do more than look at the +bee-parasite. But what a superb butterfly you have in that case! + +--Oh, yes, yes, well enough,--came from South America with the beetle +there; look at him! These Lepidoptera are for children to play with, +pretty to look at, so some think. Give me the Coleoptera, and the kings +of the Coleoptera are the beetles! Lepidoptera and Neuroptera for little +folks; Coleopteras for men, sir! + +--The particular beetle he showed me in the case with the magnificent +butterfly was an odious black wretch that one would say, Ugh! at, and +kick out of his path, if he did not serve him worse than that. But he +looked at it as a coin-collector would look at a Pescennius Niger, if the +coins of that Emperor are as scarce as they used to be when I was +collecting half-penny tokens and pine-tree shillings and battered bits of +Roman brass with the head of Gallienus or some such old fellow on them. + +--A beauty!--he exclaimed,--and the only specimen of the kind in this +country, to the best of my belief. A unique, sir, and there is a +pleasure in exclusive possession. Not another beetle like that short of +South America, sir. + +--I was glad to hear that there were no more like it in this +neighborhood, the present supply of cockroaches answering every purpose, +so far as I am concerned, that such an animal as this would be likely to +serve. + +--Here are my bee-parasites,--said the Scarabee, showing me a box full of +glass slides, each with a specimen ready mounted for the microscope. I +was most struck with one little beast flattened out like a turtle, +semi-transparent, six-legged, as I remember him, and every leg terminated +by a single claw hooked like a lion's and as formidable for the size of +the creature as that of the royal beast. + +--Lives on a bumblebee, does he?--I said. That's the way I call it. +Bumblebee or bumblybee and huckleberry. Humblebee and whortleberry for +people that say Woos-ses-ter and Nor-wich. + +--The Scarabee did not smile; he took no interest in trivial matters like +this. + +--Lives on a bumblebee. When you come to think of it, he must lead a +pleasant kind of life. Sails through the air without the trouble of +flying. Free pass everywhere that the bee goes. No fear of being +dislodged; look at those six grappling-hooks. Helps himself to such +juices of the bee as he likes best; the bee feeds on the choicest +vegetable nectars, and he feeds on the bee. Lives either in the air or +in the perfumed pavilion of the fairest and sweetest flowers. Think what +tents the hollyhocks and the great lilies spread for him! And wherever he +travels a band of music goes with him, for this hum which wanders by us +is doubtless to him a vast and inspiring strain of melody.--I thought all +this, while the Scarabee supposed I was studying the minute characters of +the enigmatical specimen. + +--I know what I consider your pediculus melittae, I said at length. + +Do you think it really the larva of meloe? + +--Oh, I don't know much about that, but I think he is the best cared for, +on the whole, of any animal that I know of; and if I wasn't a man I +believe I had rather be that little sybarite than anything that feasts at +the board of nature. + +--The question is, whether he is the larva of meloe,--the Scarabee said, +as if he had not heard a word of what I had just been saying.----If I +live a few years longer it shall be settled, sir; and if my epitaph can +say honestly that I settled it, I shall be willing to trust my posthumous +fame to that achievement. + +I said good morning to the specialist, and went off feeling not only +kindly, but respectfully towards him. He is an enthusiast, at any rate, +as "earnest" a man as any philanthropic reformer who, having passed his +life in worrying people out of their misdoings into good behavior, comes +at last to a state in which he is never contented except when he is +making somebody uncomfortable. He does certainly know one thing well, +very likely better than anybody in the world. + +I find myself somewhat singularly placed at our table between a minute +philosopher who has concentrated all his faculties on a single subject, +and my friend who finds the present universe too restricted for his +intelligence. I would not give much to hear what the Scarabee says about +the old Master, for he does not pretend to form a judgment of anything +but beetles, but I should like to hear what the Master has to say about +the Scarabee. I waited after breakfast until he had gone, and then asked +the Master what he could make of our dried-up friend. + +--Well,--he said,--I am hospitable enough in my feelings to him and all +his tribe. These specialists are the coral-insects that build up a reef. +By and by it will be an island, and for aught we know may grow into a +continent. But I don't want to be a coral-insect myself. I had rather be +a voyager that visits all the reefs and islands the creatures build, and +sails over the seas where they have as yet built up nothing. I am a +little afraid that science is breeding us down too fast into +coral-insects. A man like Newton or Leibnitz or Haller used to paint a +picture of outward or inward nature with a free hand, and stand back and +look at it as a whole and feel like an archangel; but nowadays you have a +Society, and they come together and make a great mosaic, each man +bringing his little bit and sticking it in its place, but so taken up +with his petty fragment that he never thinks of looking at the picture +the little bits make when they are put together. You can't get any talk +out of these specialists away from their own subjects, any more than you +can get help from a policeman outside of his own beat. + +--Yes,--said I,--but why should n't we always set a man talking about the +thing he knows best? + +--No doubt, no doubt, if you meet him once; but what are you going to do +with him if you meet him every day? I travel with a man and we want to +make change very often in paying bills. But every time I ask him to +change a pistareen, or give me two fo'pencehappennies for a ninepence, or +help me to make out two and thrippence (mark the old Master's archaisms +about the currency), what does the fellow do but put his hand in his +pocket and pull out an old Roman coin; I have no change, says he, but +this assarion of Diocletian. Mighty deal of good that'll do me! + +--It isn't quite so handy as a few specimens of the modern currency would +be, but you can pump him on numismatics. + +--To be sure, to be sure. I've pumped a thousand men of all they could +teach me, or at least all I could learn from 'em; and if it comes to +that, I never saw the man that couldn't teach me something. I can get +along with everybody in his place, though I think the place of some of my +friends is over there among the feeble-minded pupils, and I don't believe +there's one of them, I couldn't go to school to for half an hour and be +the wiser for it. But people you talk with every day have got to have +feeders for their minds, as much as the stream that turns a millwheel +has. It isn't one little rill that's going to keep the float-boards +turning round. Take a dozen of the brightest men you can find in the +brightest city, wherever that may be,--perhaps you and I think we +know,--and let 'em come together once a month, and you'll find out in the +course of a year or two the ones that have feeders from all the +hillsides. Your common talkers, that exchange the gossip of the day, +have no wheel in particular to turn, and the wash of the rain as it runs +down the street is enough for them. + +--Do you mean you can always see the sources from which a man fills his +mind,--his feeders, as you call them? + +-I don't go quite so far as that,--the Master said.---I've seen men whose +minds were always overflowing, and yet they did n't read much nor go much +into the world. Sometimes you'll find a bit of a pond-hole in a pasture, +and you'll plunge your walking-stick into it and think you are going to +touch bottom. But you find you are mistaken. Some of these little +stagnant pond-holes are a good deal deeper than you think; you may tie a +stone to a bed-cord and not get soundings in some of 'em. The country +boys will tell you they have no bottom, but that only means that they are +mighty deep; and so a good many stagnant, stupid-seeming people are a +great deal deeper than the length of your intellectual walking-stick, I +can tell you. There are hidden springs that keep the little pond-holes +full when the mountain brooks are all dried up. You poets ought to know +that. + +--I can't help thinking you are more tolerant towards the specialists +than I thought at first, by the way you seemed to look at our dried-up +neighbor and his small pursuits. + +--I don't like the word tolerant,--the Master said.---As long as the Lord +can tolerate me I think I can stand my fellow-creatures. Philosophically, +I love 'em all; empirically, I don't think I am very fond of all of 'em. +It depends on how you look at a man or a woman. Come here, Youngster, +will you? he said to That Boy. + +The Boy was trying to catch a blue-bottle to add to his collection, and +was indisposed to give up the chase; but he presently saw that the Master +had taken out a small coin and laid it on the table, and felt himself +drawn in that direction. + +Read that,--said the Master. + +U-n-i-ni United States of America 5 cents. + +The Master turned the coin over. Now read that. + +In God is our t-r-u-s-t--trust. 1869. + +--Is that the same piece of money as the other one? + +--There ain't any other one,--said the Boy, there ain't but one, but it's +got two sides to it with different reading. + +--That 's it, that 's it,--said the Master,--two sides to everybody, as +there are to that piece of money. I've seen an old woman that wouldn't +fetch five cents if you should put her up for sale at public auction; and +yet come to read the other side of her, she had a trust in God Almighty +that was like the bow anchor of a three-decker. It's faith in something +and enthusiasm for something that makes a life worth looking at. I don't +think your ant-eating specialist, with his sharp nose and pin-head eyes, +is the best every-day companion; but any man who knows one thing well is +worth listening to for once; and if you are of the large-brained variety +of the race, and want to fill out your programme of the Order of Things +in a systematic and exhaustive way, and get all the half-notes and flats +and sharps of humanity into your scale, you'd a great deal better shut +your front door and open your two side ones when you come across a fellow +that has made a real business of doing anything. + +--That Boy stood all this time looking hard at the five-cent piece. + +--Take it,--said the Master, with a good-natured smile. + +--The Boy made a snatch at it and was off for the purpose of investing +it. + +--A child naturally snaps at a thing as a dog does at his meat,--said the +Master.---If you think of it, we've all been quadrupeds. A child that +can only crawl has all the instincts of a four-footed beast. It carries +things in its mouth just as cats and dogs do. I've seen the little +brutes do it over and over again. I suppose a good many children would +stay quadrupeds all their lives, if they didn't learn the trick of +walking on their hind legs from seeing all the grown people walking in +that way. + +--Do you accept Mr. Darwin's notions about the origin of the race?--said +I. + +The Master looked at me with that twinkle in his eye which means that he +is going to parry a question. + +--Better stick to Blair's Chronology; that settles it. Adam and Eve, +created Friday, October 28th, B. C. 4004. You've been in a ship for a +good while, and here comes Mr. Darwin on deck with an armful of sticks +and says, "Let's build a raft, and trust ourselves to that." + +If your ship springs a leak, what would you do? + +He looked me straight in the eyes for about half a minute.---If I heard +the pumps going, I'd look and see whether they were gaining on the leak +or not. If they were gaining I'd stay where I was.---Go and find out +what's the matter with that young woman. + +I had noticed that the Young Girl--the storywriter, our Scheherezade, as +I called her--looked as if she had been crying or lying awake half the +night. I found on asking her,--for she is an honest little body and is +disposed to be confidential with me for some reason or other,--that she +had been doing both. + +--And what was the matter now, I questioned her in a semi-paternal kind +of way, as soon as I got a chance for a few quiet words with her. + +She was engaged to write a serial story, it seems, and had only got as +far as the second number, and some critic had been jumping upon it, she +said, and grinding his heel into it, till she couldn't bear to look at +it. He said she did not write half so well as half a dozen other young +women. She did n't write half so well as she used to write herself. She +hadn't any characters and she had n't any incidents. Then he went to +work to show how her story was coming out, trying to anticipate +everything she could make of it, so that her readers should have nothing +to look forward to, and he should have credit for his sagacity in +guessing, which was nothing so very wonderful, she seemed to think. +Things she had merely hinted and left the reader to infer, he told right +out in the bluntest and coarsest way. It had taken all the life out of +her, she said. It was just as if at a dinner-party one of the guests +should take a spoonful of soup and get up and say to the company, "Poor +stuff, poor stuff; you won't get anything better; let's go somewhere else +where things are fit to eat." + +What do you read such things for, my dear? said I. + +The film glistened in her eyes at the strange sound of those two soft +words; she had not heard such very often, I am afraid. + +--I know I am a foolish creature to read them, she answered,--but I can't +help it; somebody always sends me everything that will make me wretched +to read, and so I sit down and read it, and ache all over for my pains, +and lie awake all night. + +--She smiled faintly as she said this, for she saw the sub-ridiculous +side of it, but the film glittered still in her eyes. There are a good +many real miseries in life that we cannot help smiling at, but they are +the smiles that make wrinkles and not dimples. "Somebody always sends +her everything that will make her wretched." Who can those creatures be +who cut out the offensive paragraph and send it anonymously to us, who +mail the newspaper which has the article we had much better not have +seen, who take care that we shall know everything which can, by any +possibility, help to make us discontented with ourselves and a little +less light-hearted than we were before we had been fools enough to open +their incendiary packages? I don't like to say it to myself, but I +cannot help suspecting, in this instance, the doubtful-looking personage +who sits on my left, beyond the Scarabee. I have some reason to think +that he has made advances to the Young Girl which were not favorably +received, to state the case in moderate terms, and it may be that he is +taking his revenge in cutting up the poor girl's story. I know this very +well, that some personal pique or favoritism is at the bottom of half the +praise and dispraise which pretend to be so very ingenuous and +discriminating. (Of course I have been thinking all this time and +telling you what I thought.) + +--What you want is encouragement, my dear, said I,--I know that as well, +as you. I don't think the fellows that write such criticisms as you tell +me of want to correct your faults. I don't mean to say that you can +learn nothing from them, because they are not all fools by any means, and +they will often pick out your weak points with a malignant sagacity, as a +pettifogging lawyer will frequently find a real flaw in trying to get at +everything he can quibble about. But is there nobody who will praise you +generously when you do well,--nobody that will lend you a hand now while +you want it,--or must they all wait until you have made yourself a name +among strangers, and then all at once find out that you have something in +you? Oh,--said the girl, and the bright film gathered too fast for her +young eyes to hold much longer,--I ought not to be ungrateful! I have +found the kindest friend in the world. Have you ever heard the Lady--the +one that I sit next to at the table--say anything about me? + +I have not really made her acquaintance, I said. She seems to me a +little distant in her manners and I have respected her pretty evident +liking for keeping mostly to herself. + +--Oh, but when you once do know her! I don't believe I could write +stories all the time as I do, if she didn't ask me up to her chamber, and +let me read them to her. Do you know, I can make her laugh and cry, +reading my poor stories? And sometimes, when I feel as if I had written +out all there is in me, and want to lie down and go to sleep and never +wake up except in a world where there are no weekly papers,--when +everything goes wrong, like a car off the track,--she takes hold and sets +me on the rails again all right. + +--How does she go to work to help you? + +--Why, she listens to my stories, to begin with, as if she really liked +to hear them. And then you know I am dreadfully troubled now and then +with some of my characters, and can't think how to get rid of them. And +she'll say, perhaps, Don't shoot your villain this time, you've shot +three or four already in the last six weeks; let his mare stumble and +throw him and break his neck. Or she'll give me a hint about some new +way for my lover to make a declaration. She must have had a good many +offers, it's my belief, for she has told me a dozen different ways for me +to use in my stories. And whenever I read a story to her, she always +laughs and cries in the right places; and that's such a comfort, for +there are some people that think everything pitiable is so funny, and +will burst out laughing when poor Rip Van Winkle--you've seen Mr. +Jefferson, haven't you?--is breaking your heart for you if you have one. +Sometimes she takes a poem I have written and reads it to me so +beautifully, that I fall in love with it, and sometimes she sets my +verses to music and sings them to me. + +--You have a laugh together sometimes, do you? + +--Indeed we do. I write for what they call the "Comic Department" of the +paper now and then. If I did not get so tired of story-telling, I +suppose I should be gayer than I am; but as it is, we two get a little +fun out of my comic pieces. I begin them half-crying sometimes, but +after they are done they amuse me. I don't suppose my comic pieces are +very laughable; at any rate the man who makes a business of writing me +down says the last one I wrote is very melancholy reading, and that if it +was only a little better perhaps some bereaved person might pick out a +line or two that would do to put on a gravestone. + +--Well, that is hard, I must confess. Do let me see those lines which +excite such sad emotions. + +--Will you read them very good-naturedly? If you will, I will get the +paper that has "Aunt Tabitha." That is the one the fault-finder said +produced such deep depression of feeling. It was written for the "Comic +Department." Perhaps it will make you cry, but it was n't meant to. + +--I will finish my report this time with our Scheherezade's poem, hoping +that--any critic who deals with it will treat it with the courtesy due to +all a young lady's literary efforts. + + AUNT TABITHA. + + Whatever I do, and whatever I say, + Aunt Tabitha tells me that isn't the way; + When she was a girl (forty summers ago) + Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so. + + Dear aunt! If I only would take her advice! + But I like my own way, and I find it so nice! + And besides, I forget half the things I am told; + But they all will come back to me--when I am old. + + If a youth passes by, it may happen, no doubt, + He may chance to look in as I chance to look out; + She would never endure an impertinent stare, + It is horrid, she says, and I mustn't sit there. + + A walk in the moonlight has pleasures, I own, + But it is n't quite safe to be walking alone; + So I take a lad's arm,--just for safety, you know, + But Aunt Tabitha tells me they didn't do so. + + How wicked we are, and how good they were then! + They kept at arm's length those detestable men; + What an era of virtue she lived in!--But stay + Were the men all such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day? + + If the men were so wicked, I'll ask my papa + How he dared to propose to my darling mamma; + Was he like the rest of them? Goodness! Who knows + And what shall I say if a wretch should propose? + + I am thinking if aunt knew so little of sin, + What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's aunt must have been! + And her grand-aunt--it scares me--how shockingly sad. + That we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad! + + A martyr will save us, and nothing else can; + Let me perish--to rescue some wretched young man! + Though when to the altar a victim I go, + Aunt Tabitha'll tell me she never did so! + + + + +IV + +The old Master has developed one quality of late for which I am afraid I +hardly gave him credit. He has turned out to be an excellent listener. + +--I love to talk,--he said,--as a goose loves to swim. Sometimes I think +it is because I am a goose. For I never talked much at any one time in +my life without saying something or other I was sorry for. + +--You too!--said I--Now that is very odd, for it is an experience I have +habitually. I thought you were rather too much of a philosopher to +trouble yourself about such small matters as to whether you had said just +what you meant to or not; especially as you know that the person you talk +to does not remember a word of what you said the next morning, but is +thinking, it is much more likely, of what she said, or how her new dress +looked, or some other body's new dress which made--hers look as if it had +been patched together from the leaves of last November. That's what +she's probably thinking about. + +--She!--said the Master, with a look which it would take at least half a +page to explain to the entire satisfaction of thoughtful readers of both +sexes. + +--I paid the respect due to that most significant monosyllable, which, as +the old Rabbi spoke it, with its targum of tone and expression, was not +to be answered flippantly, but soberly, advisedly, and after a pause long +enough for it to unfold its meaning in the listener's mind. For there +are short single words (all the world remembers Rachel's Helas!) which +are like those Japanese toys that look like nothing of any significance +as you throw them on the water, but which after a little time open out +into various strange and unexpected figures, and then you find that each +little shred had a complicated story to tell of itself. + +-Yes,--said I, at the close of this silent interval, during which the +monosyllable had been opening out its meanings,--She. When I think of +talking, it is of course with a woman. For talking at its best being an +inspiration, it wants a corresponding divine quality of receptiveness; +and where will you find this but in woman? + +The Master laughed a pleasant little laugh,--not a harsh, sarcastic one, +but playful, and tempered by so kind a look that it seemed as if every +wrinkled line about his old eyes repeated, "God bless you," as the +tracings on the walls of the Alhambra repeat a sentence of the Koran. + +I said nothing, but looked the question, What are you laughing at? + +--Why, I laughed because I couldn't help saying to myself that a woman +whose mind was taken up with thinking how she looked, and how her pretty +neighbor looked, wouldn't have a great deal of thought to spare for all +your fine discourse. + +--Come, now,--said I,--a man who contradicts himself in the course of two +minutes must have a screw loose in his mental machinery. I never feel +afraid that such a thing can happen to me, though it happens often enough +when I turn a thought over suddenly, as you did that five-cent piece the +other day, that it reads differently on its two sides. What I meant to +say is something like this. A woman, notwithstanding she is the best of +listeners, knows her business, and it is a woman's business to please. I +don't say that it is not her business to vote, but I do say that a woman +who does not please is a false note in the harmonies of nature. She may +not have youth, or beauty, or even manner; but she must have something in +her voice or expression, or both, which it makes you feel better disposed +towards your race to look at or listen to. She knows that as well as we +do; and her first question after you have been talking your soul into her +consciousness is, Did I please? A woman never forgets her sex. She +would rather talk with a man than an angel, any day. + +--This frightful speech of mine reached the ear of our Scheherezade, who +said that it was perfectly shocking and that I deserved to be shown up as +the outlaw in one of her bandit stories. + +Hush, my dear,--said the Lady,--you will have to bring John Milton into +your story with our friend there, if you punish everybody who says +naughty things like that. Send the little boy up to my chamber for +Paradise Lost, if you please. He will find it lying on my table. The +little old volume,--he can't mistake it. + +So the girl called That Boy round and gave him the message; I don't know +why she should give it, but she did, and the Lady helped her out with a +word or two. + +The little volume--its cover protected with soft white leather from a +long kid glove, evidently suggesting the brilliant assemblies of the days +when friends and fortune smiled-came presently and the Lady opened +it.---You may read that, if you like, she said,--it may show you that our +friend is to be pilloried in good company. + +The Young Girl ran her eye along the passage the Lady pointed out, +blushed, laughed, and slapped the book down as though she would have +liked to box the ears of Mr. John Milton, if he had been a contemporary +and fellow-contributor to the "Weekly Bucket."--I won't touch the +thing,--she said.---He was a horrid man to talk so: and he had as many +wives as Blue-Beard. + +--Fair play,--said the Master.---Bring me the book, my little fractional +superfluity,--I mean you, my nursling,--my boy, if that suits your small +Highness better. + +The Boy brought the book. + +The old Master, not unfamiliar with the great epic opened pretty nearly +to the place, and very soon found the passage: He read, aloud with grand +scholastic intonation and in a deep voice that silenced the table as if a +prophet had just uttered Thus saith the Lord:-- + + "So spake our sire, and by his countenance seemed + Entering on studious thoughts abstruse; which Eve + Perceiving--" + +went to water her geraniums, to make a short story of it, and left the +two "conversationists," to wit, the angel Raphael and the +gentleman,--there was but one gentleman in society then, you know,--to +talk it out. + + "Yet went she not, as not with such discourse + Delighted, or not capable her ear + Of what was high; such pleasure she reserved, + Adam relating, she sole auditress; + Her husband the relater she preferred + Before the angel, and of him to ask + Chose rather; he she knew would intermix + Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute + With conjugal caresses: from his lips + Not words alone pleased her." + +Everybody laughed, except the Capitalist, who was a little hard of +hearing, and the Scarabee, whose life was too earnest for demonstrations +of that kind. He had his eyes fixed on the volume, however, with eager +interest. + +--The p'int 's carried,--said the Member of the Haouse. + +Will you let me look at that book a single minute?--said the Scarabee. I +passed it to him, wondering what in the world he wanted of Paradise Lost. + +Dermestes lardarius,--he said, pointing to a place where the edge of one +side of the outer cover had been slightly tasted by some insect.--Very +fond of leather while they 're in the larva state. + +--Damage the goods as bad as mice,--said the Salesman. + +--Eat half the binding off Folio 67,--said the Register of Deeds. +Something did, anyhow, and it was n't mice. Found the shelf covered with +little hairy cases belonging to something or other that had no business +there. + +Skins of the Dermestes lardaraus,--said the Scarabee,--you can always +tell them by those brown hairy coats. That 's the name to give them. + +--What good does it do to give 'em a name after they 've eat the binding +off my folios?--asked the Register of Deeds. + +The Scarabee had too much respect for science to answer such a question +as that; and the book, having served its purposes, was passed back to the +Lady. + +I return to the previous question,--said I,--if our friend the Member of +the House of Representatives will allow me to borrow the phrase. Womanly +women are very kindly critics, except to themselves and now and then to +their own sex. The less there is of sex about a woman, the more she is +to be dreaded. But take a real woman at her best moment,--well dressed +enough to be pleased with herself, not so resplendent as to be a show and +a sensation, with those varied outside influences which set vibrating the +harmonic notes of her nature stirring in the air about her, and what has +social life to compare with one of those vital interchanges of thought +and feeling with her that make an hour memorable? What can equal her +tact, her delicacy, her subtlety of apprehension, her quickness to feel +the changes of temperature as the warm and cool currents of talk blow by +turns? At one moment she is microscopically intellectual, critical, +scrupulous in judgment as an analyst's balance, and the next as +sympathetic as the open rose that sweetens the wind from whatever quarter +it finds its way to her bosom. It is in the hospitable soul of a woman +that a man forgets he is a stranger, and so becomes natural and truthful, +at the same time that he is mesmerized by all those divine differences +which make her a mystery and a bewilderment to-- + +If you fire your popgun at me, you little chimpanzee, I will stick a pin +right through the middle of you and put you into one of this gentleman's +beetle-cases! + +I caught the imp that time, but what started him was more than I could +guess. It is rather hard that this spoiled child should spoil such a +sentence as that was going to be; but the wind shifted all at once, and +the talk had to come round on another tack, or at least fall off a point +or two from its course. + +--I'll tell you who I think are the best talkers in all probability, +--said I to the Master, who, as I mentioned, was developing interesting +talent as a listener,--poets who never write verses. And there are a +good many more of these than it would seem at first sight. I think you +may say every young lover is a poet, to begin with. I don't mean either +that all young lovers are good talkers,--they have an eloquence all +their own when they are with the beloved object, no doubt, emphasized +after the fashion the solemn bard of Paradise refers to with such +delicious humor in the passage we just heard,--but a little talk goes a +good way in most of these cooing matches, and it wouldn't do to report +them too literally. What I mean is, that a man with the gift of musical +and impassioned phrase (and love often deeds that to a young person for a +while), who "wreaks" it, to borrow Byron's word, on conversation as the +natural outlet of his sensibilities and spiritual activities, is likely +to talk better than the poet, who plays on the instrument of verse. A +great pianist or violinist is rarely a great singer. To write a poem is +to expend the vital force which would have made one brilliant for an hour +or two, and to expend it on an instrument with more pipes, reeds, keys, +stops, and pedals than the Great Organ that shakes New England every time +it is played in full blast. + +Do you mean that it is hard work to write a poem?--said the old +Master.---I had an idea that a poem wrote itself, as it were, very often; +that it came by influx, without voluntary effort; indeed, you have spoken +of it as an inspiration rather than a result of volition. + +--Did you ever see a great ballet-dancer?--I asked him. + +--I have seen Taglioni,--he answered.---She used to take her steps rather +prettily. I have seen the woman that danced the capstone on to Bunker +Hill Monument, as Orpheus moved the rocks by music, the Elssler +woman,--Fanny Elssler. She would dance you a rigadoon or cut a pigeon's +wing for you very respectably. + +(Confound this old college book-worm,----he has seen everything!) + +Well, did these two ladies dance as if it was hard work to them? + +--Why no, I should say they danced as if they liked it and couldn't help +dancing; they looked as if they felt so "corky" it was hard to keep them +down. + +--And yet they had been through such work to get their limbs strong and +flexible and obedient, that a cart-horse lives an easy life compared to +theirs while they were in training. + +--The Master cut in just here--I had sprung the trap of a reminiscence. + +--When I was a boy,--he said,--some of the mothers in our small town, who +meant that their children should know what was what as well as other +people's children, laid their heads together and got a dancing-master to +come out from the city and give instruction at a few dollars a quarter to +the young folks of condition in the village. Some of their husbands were +ministers and some were deacons, but the mothers knew what they were +about, and they did n't see any reason why ministers' and deacons' wives' +children shouldn't have as easy manners as the sons and daughters of +Belial. So, as I tell you, they got a dancing-master to come out to our +place,--a man of good repute, a most respectable man,--madam (to the +Landlady), you must remember the worthy old citizen, in his advanced age, +going about the streets, a most gentlemanly bundle of infirmities,--only +he always cocked his hat a little too much on one side, as they do here +and there along the Connecticut River, and sometimes on our city +sidewalks, when they've got a new beaver; they got him, I say, to give us +boys and girls lessons in dancing and deportment. He was as gray and as +lively as a squirrel, as I remember him, and used to spring up in the air +and "cross his feet," as we called it, three times before he came down. +Well, at the end of each term there was what they called an "exhibition +ball," in which the scholars danced cotillons and country-dances; also +something called a "gavotte," and I think one or more walked a minuet. +But all this is not what--I wanted to say. At this exhibition ball he +used to bring out a number of hoops wreathed with roses, of the perennial +kind, by the aid of which a number of amazingly complicated and startling +evolutions were exhibited; and also his two daughters, who figured +largely in these evolutions, and whose wonderful performances to us, who +had not seen Miss Taglioni or Miss Elssler, were something quite +bewildering, in fact, surpassing the natural possibilities of human +beings. Their extraordinary powers were, however, accounted for by the +following explanation, which was accepted in the school as entirely +satisfactory. A certain little bone in the ankles of each of these young +girls had been broken intentionally, secundum artem, at a very early age, +and thus they had been fitted to accomplish these surprising feats which +threw the achievements of the children who were left in the condition of +the natural man into ignominious shadow. + +--Thank you,--said I,--you have helped out my illustration so as to make +it better than I expected. Let me begin again. Every poem that is +worthy of the name, no matter how easily it seems to be written, +represents a great amount of vital force expended at some time or other. +When you find a beach strewed with the shells and other spoils that +belonged once to the deep sea, you know the tide has been there, and that +the winds and waves have wrestled over its naked sands. And so, if I +find a poem stranded in my soul and have nothing to do but seize it as a +wrecker carries off the treasure he finds cast ashore, I know I have paid +at some time for that poem with some inward commotion, were it only an +excess of enjoyment, which has used up just so much of my vital capital. +But besides all the impressions that furnished the stuff of the poem, +there has been hard work to get the management of that wonderful +instrument I spoke of,---the great organ, language. An artist who works +in marble or colors has them all to himself and his tribe, but the man +who moulds his thought in verse has to employ the materials vulgarized by +everybody's use, and glorify them by his handling. I don't know that you +must break any bones in a poet's mechanism before his thought can dance +in rhythm, but read your Milton and see what training, what patient +labor, it took before he could shape our common speech into his majestic +harmonies. + +It is rather singular, but the same kind of thing has happened to me not +very rarely before, as I suppose it has to most persons, that just when I +happened to be thinking about poets and their conditions, this very +morning, I saw a paragraph or two from a foreign paper which is apt to be +sharp, if not cynical, relating to the same matter. I can't help it; I +want to have my talk about it, and if I say the same things that writer +did, somebody else can have the satisfaction of saying I stole them all. + +[I thought the person whom I have called hypothetically the Man of +Letters changed color a little and betrayed a certain awkward +consciousness that some of us were looking at him or thinking of him; but +I am a little suspicious about him and may do him wrong.] + +That poets are treated as privileged persons by their admirers and the +educated public can hardly be disputed. That they consider themselves so +there is no doubt whatever. On the whole, I do not know so easy a way of +shirking all the civic and social and domestic duties, as to settle it in +one's mind that one is a poet. I have, therefore, taken great pains to +advise other persons laboring under the impression that they were gifted +beings, destined to soar in the atmosphere of song above the vulgar +realities of earth, not to neglect any homely duty under the influence of +that impression. The number of these persons is so great that if they +were suffered to indulge their prejudice against every-day duties and +labors, it would be a serious loss to the productive industry of the +country. My skirts are clear (so far as other people are concerned) of +countenancing that form of intellectual opium-eating in which rhyme takes +the place of the narcotic. But what are you going to do when you find +John Keats an apprentice to a surgeon or apothecary? Is n't it rather +better to get another boy to sweep out the shop and shake out the powders +and stir up the mixtures, and leave him undisturbed to write his Ode on a +Grecian Urn or to a Nightingale? Oh yes, the critic I have referred to +would say, if he is John Keats; but not if he is of a much lower grade, +even though he be genuine, what there is of him. But the trouble is, the +sensitive persons who belong to the lower grades of the poetical +hierarchy do not--know their own poetical limitations, while they do feel +a natural unfitness and disinclination for many pursuits which young +persons of the average balance of faculties take to pleasantly enough. +What is forgotten is this, that every real poet, even of the humblest +grade, is an artist. Now I venture to say that any painter or sculptor of +real genius, though he may do nothing more than paint flowers and fruit, +or carve cameos, is considered a privileged person. It is recognized +perfectly that to get his best work he must be insured the freedom from +disturbances which the creative power absolutely demands, more absolutely +perhaps in these slighter artists than in the great masters. His nerves +must be steady for him to finish a rose-leaf or the fold of a nymph's +drapery in his best manner; and they will be unsteadied if he has to +perform the honest drudgery which another can do for him quite as well. +And it is just so with the poet, though he were only finishing an +epigram; you must no more meddle roughly with him than you would shake a +bottle of Chambertin and expect the "sunset glow" to redden your glass +unclouded. On the other hand, it may be said that poetry is not an +article of prime necessity, and potatoes are. There is a disposition in +many persons just now to deny the poet his benefit of clergy, and to hold +him no better than other people. Perhaps he is not, perhaps he is not so +good, half the time; but he is a luxury, and if you want him you must pay +for him, by not trying to make a drudge of him while he is all his +lifetime struggling with the chills and heats of his artistic +intermittent fever. + +There may have been some lesser interruptions during the talk I have +reported as if it was a set speech, but this was the drift of what I said +and should have said if the other man, in the Review I referred to, had +not seen fit to meddle with the subject, as some fellow always does, just +about the time when I am going to say something about it. The old Master +listened beautifully, except for cutting in once, as I told you he did. +But now he had held in as long as it was in his nature to contain +himself, and must have his say or go off in an apoplexy, or explode in +some way.--I think you're right about the poets,--he said.--They are to +common folks what repeaters are to ordinary watches. They carry music in +their inside arrangements, but they want to be handled carefully or you +put them out of order. And perhaps you must n't expect them to be quite +as good timekeepers as the professional chronometer watches that make a +specialty of being exact within a few seconds a month. They think too +much of themselves. So does everybody that considers himself as having a +right to fall back on what he calls his idiosyncrasy. Yet a man has such +a right, and it is no easy thing to adjust the private claim to the fair +public demand on him. Suppose you are subject to tic douloureux, for +instance. Every now and then a tiger that nobody can see catches one +side of your face between his jaws and holds on till he is tired and lets +go. Some concession must be made to you on that score, as everybody can +see. It is fair to give you a seat that is not in the draught, and your +friends ought not to find fault with you if you do not care to join a +party that is going on a sleigh-ride. Now take a poet like Cowper. He +had a mental neuralgia, a great deal worse in many respects than tic +douloureux confined to the face. It was well that he was sheltered and +relieved, by the cares of kind friends, especially those good women, from +as many of the burdens of life as they could lift off from him. I am +fair to the poets,--don't you agree that I am? + +Why, yes,--I said,--you have stated the case fairly enough, a good deal +as I should have put it myself. + +Now, then,--the Master continued,--I 'll tell you what is necessary to +all these artistic idiosyncrasies to bring them into good square human +relations outside of the special province where their ways differ from +those of other people. I am going to illustrate what I mean by a +comparison. I don't know, by the way, but you would be disposed to think +and perhaps call me a wine-bibber on the strength of the freedom with +which I deal with that fluid for the purposes of illustration. But I +make mighty little use of it, except as it furnishes me an image now and +then, as it did, for that matter, to the Disciples and their Master. In +my younger days they used to bring up the famous old wines, the +White-top, the Juno, the Eclipse, the Essex Junior, and the rest, in +their old cobwebbed, dusty bottles. The resurrection of one of these old +sepulchred dignitaries had something of solemnity about it; it was like +the disinterment of a king; the bringing to light of the Royal Martyr +King Charles I., for instance, that Sir Henry Halford gave such an +interesting account of. And the bottle seemed to inspire a personal +respect; it was wrapped in a napkin and borne tenderly and reverently +round to the guests, and sometimes a dead silence went before the first +gush of its amber flood, and + + "The boldest held his breath + For a time." + +But nowadays the precious juice of a long-dead vintage is transferred +carefully into a cut-glass decanter, and stands side by side with the +sherry from a corner grocery, which looks just as bright and apparently +thinks just as well of itself. The old historic Madeiras, which have +warmed the periods of our famous rhetoricians of the past and burned in +the impassioned eloquence of our earlier political demigods, have nothing +to mark them externally but a bit of thread, it may be, round the neck of +the decanter, or a slip of ribbon, pink on one of them and blue on +another. + +Go to a London club,--perhaps I might find something nearer home that +would serve my turn,--but go to a London club, and there you will see the +celebrities all looking alike modern, all decanted off from their +historic antecedents and their costume of circumstance into the every-day +aspect of the gentleman of common cultivated society. That is Sir Coeur +de Lion Plantagenet in the mutton-chop whiskers and the plain gray suit; +there is the Laureate in a frockcoat like your own, and the leader of the +House of Commons in a necktie you do not envy. That is the kind of thing +you want to take the nonsense out of you. If you are not decanted off +from yourself every few days or weeks, you will think it sacrilege to +brush a cobweb from your cork by and by. O little fool, that has +published a little book full of little poems or other sputtering tokens +of an uneasy condition, how I love you for the one soft nerve of special +sensibility that runs through your exiguous organism, and the one +phosphorescent particle in your unilluminated intelligence! But if you +don't leave your spun-sugar confectionery business once in a while, and +come out among lusty men,--the bristly, pachydermatous fellows that hew +out the highways for the material progress of society, and the +broad-shouldered, out-of-door men that fight for the great prizes of +life,--you will come to think that the spun-sugar business is the chief +end of man, and begin to feel and look as if you believed yourself as +much above common people as that personage of whom Tourgueneff says that +"he had the air of his own statue erected by national subscription." + +--The Master paused and fell into a deep thinking fit, as he does +sometimes. He had had his own say, it is true, but he had established +his character as a listener to my own perfect satisfaction, for I, too, +was conscious of having preached with a certain prolixity. + +--I am always troubled when I think of my very limited mathematical +capacities. It seems as if every well-organized mind should be able to +handle numbers and quantities through their symbols to an indefinite +extent; and yet, I am puzzled by what seems to a clever boy with a turn +for calculation as plain as counting his fingers. I don't think any man +feels well grounded in knowledge unless he has a good basis of +mathematical certainties, and knows how to deal with them and apply them +to every branch of knowledge where they can come in to advantage. + +Our Young Astronomer is known for his mathematical ability, and I asked +him what he thought was the difficulty in the minds that are weak in that +particular direction, while they may be of remarkable force in other +provinces of thought, as is notoriously the case with some men of great +distinction in science. + +The young man smiled and wrote a few letters and symbols on a piece of +paper.---Can you see through that at once?--he said. + +I puzzled over it for some minutes and gave it up. + +--He said, as I returned it to him, You have heard military men say that +such a person had an eye for country, have n't you? One man will note +all the landmarks, keep the points of compass in his head, observe how +the streams run, in short, carry a map in his brain of any region that he +has marched or galloped through. Another man takes no note of any of +these things; always follows somebody else's lead when he can, and gets +lost if he is left to himself; a mere owl in daylight. Just so some men +have an eye for an equation, and would read at sight the one that you +puzzled over. It is told of Sir Isaac Newton that he required no +demonstration of the propositions in Euclid's Geometry, but as soon as he +had read the enunciation the solution or answer was plain at once. The +power may be cultivated, but I think it is to a great degree a natural +gift, as is the eye for color, as is the ear for music. + +--I think I could read equations readily enough,--I said,--if I could +only keep my attention fixed on them; and I think I could keep my +attention on them if I were imprisoned in a thinking-cell, such as the +Creative Intelligence shapes for its studio when at its divinest work. + +The young man's lustrous eyes opened very widely as he asked me to +explain what I meant. + +--What is the Creator's divinest work?--I asked. + +--Is there anything more divine than the sun; than a sun with its planets +revolving about it, warming them, lighting them, and giving conscious +life to the beings that move on them? + +--You agree, then, that conscious life is the grand aim and end of all +this vast mechanism. Without life that could feel and enjoy, the +splendors and creative energy would all be thrown away. You know +Harvey's saying, omnia animalia ex ovo,--all animals come from an egg. +You ought to know it, for the great controversy going on about +spontaneous generation has brought it into special prominence lately. +Well, then, the ovum, the egg, is, to speak in human phrase, the +Creator's more private and sacred studio, for his magnum opus. Now, look +at a hen's egg, which is a convenient one to study, because it is large +enough and built solidly enough to look at and handle easily. That would +be the form I would choose for my thinking-cell. Build me an oval with +smooth, translucent walls, and put me in the centre of it with Newton's +"Principia" or Kant's "Kritik," and I think I shall develop "an eye for +an equation," as you call it, and a capacity for an abstraction. + +But do tell me,--said the Astronomer, a little incredulously,--what there +is in that particular form which is going to help you to be a +mathematician or a metaphysician? + +--It is n't help I want, it is removing hindrances. I don't want to see +anything to draw off my attention. I don't want a cornice, or an angle, +or anything but a containing curve. I want diffused light and no single +luminous centre to fix my eye, and so distract my mind from its one +object of contemplation. The metaphysics of attention have hardly been +sounded to their depths. The mere fixing the look on any single object +for a long time may produce very strange effects. Gibbon's well-known +story of the monks of Mount Athos and their contemplative practice is +often laughed over, but it has a meaning. They were to shut the door of +the cell, recline the beard and chin on the breast, and contemplate the +abdominal centre. + +"At first all will be dark and comfortless; but if you persevere day and +night, you will feel an ineffable joy; and no sooner has the soul +discovered the place of the heart, than it is involved in a mystic and +ethereal light." And Mr. Braid produces absolute anaesthesia, so that +surgical operations can be performed without suffering to the patient, +only by making him fix his eyes and his mind on a single object; and +Newton is said to have said, as you remember, "I keep the subject +constantly before me, and wait till the first dawnings open slowly by +little and little into a full and clear light." These are different, but +certainly very wonderful, instances of what can be done by attention. +But now suppose that your mind is in its nature discursive, erratic, +subject to electric attractions and repulsions, volage; it may be +impossible for you to compel your attention except by taking away all +external disturbances. I think the poets have an advantage and a +disadvantage as compared with the steadier-going people. Life is so +vivid to the poet, that he is too eager to seize and exhaust its +multitudinous impressions. Like Sindbad in the valley of precious +stones, he wants to fill his pockets with diamonds, but, lo! there is a +great ruby like a setting sun in its glory, and a sapphire that, like +Bryant's blue gentian, seems to have dropped from the cerulean walls of +heaven, and a nest of pearls that look as if they might be unhatched +angel's eggs, and so he hardly knows what to seize, and tries for too +many, and comes out of the enchanted valley with more gems than he can +carry, and those that he lets fall by the wayside we call his poems. You +may change the image a thousand ways to show you how hard it is to make a +mathematician or a logician out of a poet. He carries the tropics with +him wherever he goes; he is in the true sense felius naturae, and Nature +tempts him, as she tempts a child walking through a garden where all the +finest fruits are hanging over him and dropping round him, where + + The luscious clusters of the vine + Upon (his) mouth do crush their wine, + The nectarine and curious peach, + Into (his) hands themselves do reach; + +and he takes a bite out of the sunny side of this and the other, and, +ever stimulated and never satisfied, is hurried through the garden, and, +before he knows it, finds himself at an iron gate which opens outward, +and leaves the place he knows and loves-- + +--For one he will perhaps soon learn to love and know better,--said the +Master.---But I can help you out with another comparison, not quite so +poetical as yours. Why did not you think of a railway-station, where the +cars stop five minutes for refreshments? Is n't that a picture of the +poet's hungry and hurried feast at the banquet of life? The traveller +flings himself on the bewildering miscellany of delicacies spread before +him, the various tempting forms of ambrosia and seducing draughts of +nectar, with the same eager hurry and restless ardor that you describe in +the poet. Dear me! If it wasn't for All aboard! that summons of the +deaf conductor which tears one away from his half-finished sponge-cake +and coffee, how I, who do not call myself a poet, but only a questioner, +should have enjoyed a good long stop--say a couple of thousand years--at +this way-station on the great railroad leading to the unknown terminus! + +--You say you are not a poet,--I said, after a little pause, in which I +suppose both of us were thinking where the great railroad would land us +after carrying us into the dark tunnel, the farther end of which no man +has seen and taken a return train to bring us news about it,--you say you +are not a poet, and yet it seems to me you have some of the elements +which go to make one. + +--I don't think you mean to flatter me,--the Master answered,--and, what +is more, for I am not afraid to be honest with you, I don't think you do +flatter me. I have taken the inventory of my faculties as calmly as if I +were an appraiser. I have some of the qualities, perhaps I may say many +of the qualities, that make a man a poet, and yet I am not one. And in +the course of a pretty wide experience of men--and women--(the Master +sighed, I thought, but perhaps I was mistaken)--I have met a good many +poets who were not rhymesters and a good many rhymesters who were not +poets. So I am only one of the Voiceless, that I remember one of you +singers had some verses about. I think there is a little music in me, but +it has not found a voice, and it never will. If I should confess the +truth, there is no mere earthly immortality that I envy so much as the +poet's. If your name is to live at all, it is so much more to have it +live in people's hearts than only in their brains! I don't know that +one's eyes fill with tears when he thinks of the famous inventor of +logarithms, but song of Burns's or a hymn of Charles Wesley's goes +straight to your heart, and you can't help loving both of them, the +sinner as well as the saint. The works of other men live, but their +personality dies out of their labors; the poet, who reproduces himself in +his creation, as no other artist does or can, goes down to posterity with +all his personality blended with whatever is imperishable in his song. +We see nothing of the bees that built the honeycomb and stored it with +its sweets, but we can trace the veining in the wings of insects that +flitted through the forests which are now coal-beds, kept unchanging in +the amber that holds them; and so the passion of Sappho, the tenderness +of Simonides, the purity of holy George Herbert, the lofty +contemplativeness of James Shirley, are before us to-day as if they were +living, in a few tears of amber verse. It seems, when one reads, + + "Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright," + +or, + + "The glories of our birth and state," + +as if it were not a very difficult matter to gain immortality,--such an +immortality at least as a perishable language can give. A single lyric +is enough, if one can only find in his soul and finish in his intellect +one of those jewels fit to sparkle "on the stretched forefinger of all +time." A coin, a ring, a string of verses. These last, and hardly +anything else does. Every century is an overloaded ship that must sink +at last with most of its cargo. The small portion of its crew that get +on board the new vessel which takes them off don't pretend to save a +great many of the bulky articles. But they must not and will not leave +behind the hereditary jewels of the race; and if you have found and cut a +diamond, were it only a spark with a single polished facet, it will stand +a better chance of being saved from the wreck than anything, no matter +what, that wants much room for stowage. + +The pyramids last, it is true, but most of them have forgotten their +builders' names. But the ring of Thothmes III., who reigned some +fourteen hundred years before our era, before Homer sang, before the +Argonauts sailed, before Troy was built, is in the possession of Lord +Ashburnham, and proclaims the name of the monarch who wore it more than +three thousand years ago. The gold coins with the head of Alexander the +Great are some of them so fresh one might think they were newer than much +of the silver currency we were lately handling. As we have been quoting +from the poets this morning, I will follow the precedent, and give some +lines from an epistle of Pope to Addison after the latter had written, +but not yet published, his Dialogue on Medals. Some of these lines have +been lingering in my memory for a great many years, but I looked at the +original the other day and was so pleased with them that I got them by +heart. I think you will say they are singularly pointed and elegant. + + "Ambition sighed; she found it vain to trust + The faithless column and the crumbling bust; + Huge moles, whose shadows stretched from shore to shore, + Their ruins perished, and their place no more! + Convinced, she now contracts her vast design, + And all her triumphs shrink into a coin. + A narrow orb each crowded conquest keeps, + Beneath her palm here sad Judaea weeps; + Now scantier limits the proud arch confine, + And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine; + A small Euphrates through the piece is rolled, + And little eagles wave their wings in gold." + +It is the same thing in literature. Write half a dozen folios full of +other people's ideas (as all folios are pretty sure to be), and you serve +as ballast to the lower shelves of a library, about as like to be +disturbed as the kentledge in the hold of a ship. Write a story, or a +dozen stories, and your book will be in demand like an oyster while it is +freshly opened, and after tha--. The highways of literature are spread +over with the shells of dead novels, each of which has been swallowed at +a mouthful by the public, and is done with. But write a volume of poems. +No matter if they are all bad but one, if that one is very good. It will +carry your name down to posterity like the ring of Thothmes, like the +coin of Alexander. I don't suppose one would care a great deal about it +a hundred or a thousand years after he is dead, but I don't feel quite +sure. It seems as if, even in heaven, King David might remember "The +Lord is my Shepherd" with a certain twinge of earthly pleasure. But we +don't know, we don't know. + +--What in the world can have become of That Boy and his popgun while all +this somewhat extended sermonizing was going on? I don't wonder you ask, +beloved Reader, and I suppose I must tell you how we got on so long +without interruption. Well, the plain truth is, the youngster was +contemplating his gastric centre, like the monks of Mount Athos, but in a +less happy state of mind than those tranquil recluses, in consequence of +indulgence in the heterogeneous assortment of luxuries procured with the +five-cent piece given him by the kind-hearted old Master. But you need +not think I am going to tell you every time his popgun goes off, making a +Selah of him whenever I want to change the subject. Occasionally he was +ill-timed in his artillery practice and ignominiously rebuked, sometimes +he was harmlessly playful and nobody minded him, but every now and then +he came in so apropos that I am morally certain he gets a hint from +somebody who watches the course of the conversation, and means through +him to have a hand in it and stop any of us when we are getting prosy. +But in consequence of That Boy's indiscretion, we were without a check +upon our expansiveness, and ran on in the way you have observed and may +be disposed to find fault with. + +One other thing the Master said before we left the table, after our long +talk of that day. + +--I have been tempted sometimes,--said he, to envy the immediate triumphs +of the singer. He enjoys all that praise can do for him and at the very +moment of exerting his talent. And the singing women! Once in a while, +in the course of my life, I have found myself in the midst of a tulip-bed +of full-dressed, handsome women in all their glory, and when some one +among them has shaken her gauzy wings, and sat down before the piano, and +then, only giving the keys a soft touch now and then to support her +voice, has warbled some sweet, sad melody intertwined with the longings +or regrets of some tender-hearted poet, it has seemed to me that so to +hush the rustling of the silks and silence the babble of the buds, as +they call the chicks of a new season, and light up the flame of romance +in cold hearts, in desolate ones, in old burnt-out ones,--like mine, I +was going to say, but I won't, for it isn't so, and you may laugh to hear +me say it isn't so, if you like,--was perhaps better than to be +remembered a few hundred years by a few perfect stanzas, when your +gravestone is standing aslant, and your name is covered over with a +lichen as big as a militia colonel's cockade, and nobody knows or cares +enough about you to scrape it off and set the tipsy old slate-stone +upright again. + +--I said nothing in reply to this, for I was thinking of a sweet singer +to whose voice I had listened in its first freshness, and which is now +only an echo in my memory. If any reader of the periodical in which +these conversations are recorded can remember so far back as the first +year of its publication, he will find among the papers contributed by a +friend not yet wholly forgotten a few verses, lively enough in their way, +headed "The Boys." The sweet singer was one of this company of college +classmates, the constancy of whose friendship deserves a better tribute +than the annual offerings, kindly meant, as they are, which for many +years have not been wanting at their social gatherings. The small +company counts many noted personages on its list, as is well known to +those who are interested in such local matters, but it is not known that +every fifth man of the whole number now living is more or less of a +poet,--using that word with a generous breadth of significance. But it +should seem that the divine gift it implies is more freely dispensed than +some others, for while there are (or were, for one has taken his Last +Degree) eight musical quills, there was but one pair of lips which could +claim any special consecration to vocal melody. Not that one that should +undervalue the half-recitative of doubtful barytones, or the brilliant +escapades of slightly unmanageable falsettos, or the concentrated efforts +of the proprietors of two or three effective notes, who may be observed +lying in wait for them, and coming down on them with all their might, and +the look on their countenances of "I too am a singer." But the voice +that led all, and that all loved to listen to, the voice that was at once +full, rich, sweet, penetrating, expressive, whose ample overflow drowned +all the imperfections and made up for all the shortcomings of the others, +is silent henceforth forevermore for all earthly listeners. + +And these were the lines that one of "The Boys," as they have always +called themselves for ever so many years, read at the first meeting after +the voice which had never failed them was hushed in the stillness of +death. + + J. A. + + 1871. + + One memory trembles on our lips + It throbs in every breast; + In tear-dimmed eyes, in mirth's eclipse, + The shadow stands confessed. + + O silent voice, that cheered so long + Our manhood's marching day, + Without thy breath of heavenly song, + How weary seems the way! + + Vain every pictured phrase to tell + Our sorrowing hearts' desire; + The shattered harp, the broken shell, + The silent unstrung lyre; + + For youth was round us while he sang; + It glowed in every tone; + With bridal chimes the echoes rang, + And made the past our own. + + O blissful dream! Our nursery joys + We know must have an end, + But love and friendships broken toys + May God's good angels mend! + + The cheering smile, the voice of mirth + And laughter's gay surprise + That please the children born of earth, + Why deem that Heaven denies? + + Methinks in that refulgent sphere + That knows not sun or moon, + An earth-born saint might long to hear + One verse of "Bonny Doon"; + + Or walking through the streets of gold + In Heaven's unclouded light, + His lips recall the song of old + And hum "The sky is bright." + + And can we smile when thou art dead? + Ah, brothers, even so! + The rose of summer will be red, + In spite of winter's snow. + + Thou wouldst not leave us all in gloom + Because thy song is still, + Nor blight the banquet-garland's bloom + With grief's untimely chill. + + The sighing wintry winds complain, + The singing bird has flown, + --Hark! heard I not that ringing strain, + That clear celestial tone? + + How poor these pallid phrases seem, + How weak this tinkling line, + As warbles through my waking dream + That angel voice of thine! + + Thy requiem asks a sweeter lay; + It falters on my tongue; + For all we vainly strive to say, + Thou shouldst thyself have sung! + + + + +V + +I fear that I have done injustice in my conversation and my report of it +to a most worthy and promising young man whom I should be very sorry to +injure in any way. Dr. Benjamin Franklin got hold of my account of my +visit to him, and complained that I had made too much of the expression +he used. He did not mean to say that he thought I was suffering from the +rare disease he mentioned, but only that the color reminded him of it. +It was true that he had shown me various instruments, among them one for +exploring the state of a part by means of a puncture, but he did not +propose to make use of it upon my person. In short, I had colored the +story so as to make him look ridiculous. + +--I am afraid I did,--I said,--but was n't I colored myself so as to look +ridiculous? I've heard it said that people with the jaundice see +everything yellow; perhaps I saw things looking a little queerly, with +that black and blue spot I could n't account for threatening to make a +colored man and brother of me. But I am sorry if I have done you any +wrong. I hope you won't lose any patients by my making a little fun of +your meters and scopes and contrivances. They seem so odd to us outside +people. Then the idea of being bronzed all over was such an alarming +suggestion. But I did not mean to damage your business, which I trust is +now considerable, and I shall certainly come to you again if I have need +of the services of a physician. Only don't mention the names of any +diseases in English or Latin before me next time. I dreamed about cutis +oenea half the night after I came to see you. + +Dr. Benjamin took my apology very pleasantly. He did not want to be +touchy about it, he said, but he had his way to make in the world, and +found it a little hard at first, as most young men did. People were +afraid to trust them, no matter how much they knew. One of the old +doctors asked him to come in and examine a patient's heart for him the +other day. He went with him accordingly, and when they stood by the +bedside, he offered his stethoscope to the old doctor. The old doctor +took it and put the wrong end to his ear and the other to the patient's +chest, and kept it there about two minutes, looking all the time as wise +as an old owl. Then he, Dr. Benjamin, took it and applied it properly, +and made out where the trouble was in no time at all. But what was the +use of a young man's pretending to know anything in the presence of an +old owl? I saw by their looks, he said, that they all thought I used +the, stethoscope wrong end up, and was nothing but a 'prentice hand to +the old doctor. + +--I am much pleased to say that since Dr. Benjamin has had charge of a +dispensary district, and been visiting forty or fifty patients a day, I +have reason to think he has grown a great deal more practical than when I +made my visit to his office. I think I was probably one of his first +patients, and that he naturally made the most of me. But my second trial +was much more satisfactory. I got an ugly cut from the carving-knife in +an affair with a goose of iron constitution in which I came off second +best. I at once adjourned with Dr. Benjamin to his small office, and put +myself in his hands. It was astonishing to see what a little experience +of miscellaneous practice had done for him. He did not ask me anymore +questions about my hereditary predispositions on the paternal and +maternal sides. He did not examine me with the stethoscope or the +laryngoscope. He only strapped up my cut, and informed me that it would +speedily get well by the "first intention,"--an odd phrase enough, but +sounding much less formidable than cutis oenea. + +I am afraid I have had something of the French prejudice which embodies +itself in the maxim "young surgeon, old physician." But a young +physician who has been taught by great masters of the profession, in +ample hospitals, starts in his profession knowing more than some old +doctors have learned in a lifetime. Give him a little time to get the +use of his wits in emergencies, and to know the little arts that do so +much for a patient's comfort,--just as you give a young sailor time to +get his sea-legs on and teach his stomach to behave itself,--and he will +do well enough. + +The old Master knows ten times more about this matter and about all the +professions, as he does about everything else, than I do. My opinion is +that he has studied two, if not three, of these professions in a regular +course. I don't know that he has ever preached, except as Charles Lamb +said Coleridge always did, for when he gets the bit in his teeth he runs +away with the conversation, and if he only took a text his talk would be +a sermon; but if he has not preached, he has made a study of theology, as +many laymen do. I know he has some shelves of medical books in his +library, and has ideas on the subject of the healing art. He confesses +to having attended law lectures and having had much intercourse with +lawyers. So he has something to say on almost any subject that happens +to come up. I told him my story about my visit to the young doctor, and +asked him what he thought of youthful practitioners in general and of Dr. +Benjamin in particular. + +I 'll tell you what,--the Master said,--I know something about these +young fellows that come home with their heads full of "science," as they +call it, and stick up their signs to tell people they know how to cure +their headaches and stomach-aches. Science is a first-rate piece of +furniture for a man's upper chamber, if he has common sense on the +ground-floor. But if a man has n't got plenty of good common sense, the +more science he has the worse for his patient. + +--I don't know that I see exactly how it is worse for the patient,--I +said. + +--Well, I'll tell you, and you'll find it's a mighty simple matter. When +a person is sick, there is always something to be done for him, and done +at once. If it is only to open or shut a window, if it is only to tell +him to keep on doing just what he is doing already, it wants a man to +bring his mind right down to the fact of the present case and its +immediate needs. Now the present case, as the doctor sees it, is just +exactly such a collection of paltry individual facts as never was +before,--a snarl and tangle of special conditions which it is his +business to wind as much thread out of as he can. It is a good deal as +when a painter goes to take the portrait of any sitter who happens to +send for him. He has seen just such noses and just such eyes and just +such mouths, but he never saw exactly such a face before, and his +business is with that and no other person's,--with the features of the +worthy father of a family before him, and not with the portraits he has +seen in galleries or books, or Mr. Copley's grand pictures of the fine +old Tories, or the Apollos and Jupiters of Greek sculpture. It is the +same thing with the patient. His disease has features of its own; there +never was and never will be another case in all respects exactly like it. +If a doctor has science without common sense, he treats a fever, but not +this man's fever. If he has common sense without science, he treats this +man's fever without knowing the general laws that govern all fevers and +all vital movements. I 'll tell you what saves these last fellows. They +go for weakness whenever they see it, with stimulants and strengtheners, +and they go for overaction, heat, and high pulse, and the rest, with +cooling and reducing remedies. That is three quarters of medical +practice. The other quarter wants science and common sense too. But the +men that have science only, begin too far back, and, before they get as +far as the case in hand, the patient has very likely gone to visit his +deceased relatives. You remember Thomas Prince's "Chronological History +of New England," I suppose? He begins, you recollect, with Adam, and has +to work down five thousand six hundred and twenty-four years before he +gets to the Pilgrim fathers and the Mayflower. It was all very well, +only it did n't belong there, but got in the way of something else. So +it is with "science" out of place. By far the larger part of the facts +of structure and function you find in the books of anatomy and physiology +have no immediate application to the daily duties of the practitioner. +You must learn systematically, for all that; it is the easiest way and +the only way that takes hold of the memory, except mere empirical +repetition, like that of the handicraftsman. Did you ever see one of +those Japanese figures with the points for acupuncture marked upon it? + +--I had to own that my schooling had left out that piece of information. + +Well, I 'll tell you about it. You see they have a way of pushing long, +slender needles into you for the cure of rheumatism and other complaints, +and it seems there is a choice of spots for the operation, though it is +very strange how little mischief it does in a good many places one would +think unsafe to meddle with. So they had a doll made, and marked the +spots where they had put in needles without doing any harm. They must +have had accidents from sticking the needles into the wrong places now +and then, but I suppose they did n't say a great deal about those. After +a time, say a few centuries of experience, they had their doll all +spotted over with safe places for sticking in the needles. That is their +way of registering practical knowledge: We, on the other hand, study the +structure of the body as a whole, systematically, and have no difficulty +at all in remembering the track of the great vessels and nerves, and +knowing just what tracks will be safe and what unsafe. It is just the +same thing with the geologists. Here is a man close by us boring for +water through one of our ledges, because somebody else got water +somewhere else in that way; and a person who knows geology or ought to +know it, because he has given his life to it, tells me he might as well +bore there for lager-beer as for water. + +--I thought we had had enough of this particular matter, and that I +should like to hear what the Master had to say about the three +professions he knew something about, each compared with the others. + +What is your general estimate of doctors, lawyers, and ministers?--said +I. + +--Wait a minute, till I have got through with your first question,--said +the Master.---One thing at a time. You asked me about the young doctors, +and about our young doctor. They come home tres biens chausses, as a +Frenchman would say, mighty well shod with professional knowledge. But +when they begin walking round among their poor patients, they don't +commonly start with millionnaires,--they find that their new shoes of +scientific acquirements have got to be broken in just like a pair of +boots or brogans. I don't know that I have put it quite strong enough. +Let me try again. You've seen those fellows at the circus that get up on +horseback so big that you wonder how they could climb into the saddle. +But pretty soon they throw off their outside coat, and the next minute +another one, and then the one under that, and so they keep peeling off +one garment after another till people begin to look queer and think they +are going too far for strict propriety. Well, that is the way a fellow +with a real practical turn serves a good many of his scientific wrappers, +flings 'em off for other people to pick up, and goes right at the work of +curing stomach-aches and all the other little mean unscientific +complaints that make up the larger part of every doctor's business. I +think our Dr. Benjamin is a worthy young man, and if you are in need of a +doctor at any time I hope you will go to him; and if you come off without +harm, I will recommend some other friend to try him. + +--I thought he was going to say he would try him in his own person, but +the Master is not fond of committing himself. + +Now, I will answer your other question, he said. The lawyers are the +cleverest men, the ministers are the most learned, and the doctors are +the most sensible. + +The lawyers are a picked lot, "first scholars" and the like, but their +business is as unsympathetic as Jack Ketch's. There is nothing +humanizing in their relations with their fellow-creatures. They go for +the side that retains them. They defend the man they know to be a rogue, +and not very rarely throw suspicion on the man they know to be innocent. +Mind you, I am not finding fault with them; every side of a case has a +right to the best statement it admits of; but I say it does not tend to +make them sympathetic. Suppose in a case of Fever vs. Patient, the +doctor should side with either party according to whether the old miser +or his expectant heir was his employer. Suppose the minister should side +with the Lord or the Devil, according to the salary offered and other +incidental advantages, where the soul of a sinner was in question. You +can see what a piece of work it would make of their sympathies. But the +lawyers are quicker witted than either of the other professions, and +abler men generally. They are good-natured, or, if they quarrel, their +quarrels are above-board. I don't think they are as accomplished as the +ministers, but they have a way of cramming with special knowledge for a +case which leaves a certain shallow sediment of intelligence in their +memories about a good many things. They are apt to talk law in mixed +company, and they have a way of looking round when they make a point, as +if they were addressing a jury, that is mighty aggravating, as I once had +occasion to see when one of 'em, and a pretty famous one, put me on the +witness-stand at a dinner-party once. + +The ministers come next in point of talent. They are far more curious +and widely interested outside of their own calling than either of the +other professions. I like to talk with 'em. They are interesting men, +full of good feelings, hard workers, always foremost in good deeds, and +on the whole the most efficient civilizing class, working downwards from +knowledge to ignorance, that is,--not so much upwards, perhaps,--that we +have. The trouble is, that so many of 'em work in harness, and it is +pretty sure to chafe somewhere. They feed us on canned meats mostly. +They cripple our instincts and reason, and give us a crutch of doctrine. +I have talked with a great many of 'em of all sorts of belief, and I +don't think they are quite so easy in their minds, the greater number of +them; nor so clear in their convictions, as one would think to hear 'em +lay down the law in the pulpit. They used to lead the intelligence of +their parishes; now they do pretty well if they keep up with it, and they +are very apt to lag behind it. Then they must have a colleague. The old +minister thinks he can hold to his old course, sailing right into the +wind's eye of human nature, as straight as that famous old skipper John +Bunyan; the young minister falls off three or four points and catches the +breeze that left the old man's sails all shivering. By and by the +congregation will get ahead of him, and then it must, have another new +skipper. The priest holds his own pretty well; the minister is coming +down every generation nearer and nearer to the common level of the useful +citizen,--no oracle at all, but a man of more than average moral +instincts, who, if he knows anything, knows how little he knows. The +ministers are good talkers, only the struggle between nature and grace +makes some of 'em a little awkward occasionally. The women do their best +to spoil 'em, as they do the poets; you find it very pleasant to be +spoiled, no doubt; so do they. Now and then one of 'em goes over the dam; +no wonder, they're always in the rapids. + +By this time our three ladies had their faces all turned toward the +speaker, like the weathercocks in a northeaster, and I thought it best to +switch off the talk on to another rail. + +How about the doctors?--I said. + +--Theirs is the least learned of the professions, in this country at +least. They have not half the general culture of the lawyers, nor a +quarter of that of the ministers. I rather think, though, they are more +agreeable to the common run of people than the men with black coats or +the men with green bags. People can swear before 'em if they want to, +and they can't very well before ministers. I don't care whether they +want to swear or not, they don't want to be on their good behavior. +Besides, the minister has a little smack of the sexton about him; he +comes when people are in extremis, but they don't send for him every time +they make a slight moral slip, tell a lie for instance, or smuggle a silk +dress through the customhouse; but they call in the doctor when a child +is cutting a tooth or gets a splinter in its finger. So it does n't mean +much to send for him, only a pleasant chat about the news of the day; for +putting the baby to rights does n't take long. Besides, everybody does +n't like to talk about the next world; people are modest in their +desires, and find this world as good as they deserve; but everybody loves +to talk physic. Everybody loves to hear of strange cases; people are +eager to tell the doctor of the wonderful cures they have heard of; they +want to know what is the matter with somebody or other who is said to be +suffering from "a complication of diseases," and above all to get a hard +name, Greek or Latin, for some complaint which sounds altogether too +commonplace in plain English. If you will only call a headache a +Cephalgia, it acquires dignity at once, and a patient becomes rather +proud of it. So I think doctors are generally welcome in most companies. + +In old times, when people were more afraid of the Devil and of witches +than they are now, they liked to have a priest or a minister somewhere +near to scare 'em off; but nowadays, if you could find an old woman that +would ride round the room on a broomstick, Barnum would build an +amphitheatre to exhibit her in; and if he could come across a young imp, +with hoofs, tail, and budding horns, a lineal descendant of one of those +"daemons" which the good people of Gloucester fired at, and were fired at +by "for the best part of a month together" in the year 1692, the, great +showman would have him at any cost for his museum or menagerie. Men are +cowards, sir, and are driven by fear as the sovereign motive. Men are +idolaters, and want something to look at and kiss and hug, or throw +themselves down before; they always did, they always will; and if you +don't make it of wood, you must make it of words, which are just as much +used for idols as promissory notes are used for values. The ministers +have a hard time of it without bell and book and holy water; they are +dismounted men in armor since Luther cut their saddle-girths, and you can +see they are quietly taking off one piece of iron after another until +some of the best of 'em are fighting the devil (not the zoological Devil +with the big D) with the sword of the Spirit, and precious little else in +the way of weapons of offence or defence. But we couldn't get on without +the spiritual brotherhood, whatever became of our special creeds. There +is a genius for religion, just as there is for painting or sculpture. It +is half-sister to the genius for music, and has some of the features +which remind us of earthly love. But it lifts us all by its mere +presence. To see a good man and hear his voice once a week would be +reason enough for building churches and pulpits. The Master stopped all +at once, and after about half a minute laughed his pleasant laugh. + +What is it?--I asked him. + +I was thinking of the great coach and team that is carrying us fast +enough, I don't know but too fast, somewhere or other. The D. D.'s used +to be the leaders, but now they are the wheel-horses. It's pretty hard +to tell how much they pull, but we know they can hold back like the---- + +--When we're going down hill,--I said, as neatly as if I had been a +High-Church curate trained to snap at the last word of the response, so +that you couldn't wedge in the tail of a comma between the end of the +congregation's closing syllable and the beginning of the next petition. +They do it well, but it always spoils my devotion. To save my life, I +can't help watching them, as I watch to see a duck dive at the flash of a +gun, and that is not what I go to church for. It is a juggler's trick, +and there is no more religion in it than in catching a ball on the fly. + +I was looking at our Scheherezade the other day, and thinking what a pity +it was that she had never had fair play in the world. I wish I knew more +of her history. There is one way of learning it,--making love to her. I +wonder whether she would let me and like it. It is an absurd thing, and +I ought not to confess, but I tell you and you only, Beloved, my heart +gave a perceptible jump when it heard the whisper of that possibility +overhead! Every day has its ebb and flow, but such a thought as that is +like one of those tidal waves they talk about, that rolls in like a great +wall and overtops and drowns out all your landmarks, and you, too, if you +don't mind what you are about and stand ready to run or climb or swim. +Not quite so bad as that, though, this time. I take an interest in our +Scheherezade. I am glad she did n't smile on the pipe and the +Bohemian-looking fellow that finds the best part of his life in sucking +at it. A fine thing, isn't it; for a young woman to marry a man who will +hold her + + "Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse," + +but not quite so good as his meerschaum? It is n't for me to throw +stones, though, who have been a Nicotian a good deal more than half my +days. Cigar-stump out now, and consequently have become very bitter on +more persevering sinners. I say I take an interest in our Scheherezade, +but I rather think it is more paternal than anything else, though my +heart did give that jump. It has jumped a good many times without +anything very remarkable coming of it. + +This visit to the Observatory is going to bring us all, or most of us, +together in a new way, and it wouldn't be very odd if some of us should +become better acquainted than we ever have been. There is a chance for +the elective affinities. What tremendous forces they are, if two +subjects of them come within range! There lies a bit of iron. All the +dynamic agencies of the universe are pledged to hold it just in that +position, and there it will lie until it becomes a heap of red-brown +rust. But see, I hold a magnet to it,--it looks to you like just such a +bit of iron as the other,--and lo! it leaves them all,--the tugging of +the mighty earth; of the ghostly moon that walks in white, trailing the +snaky waves of the ocean after her; of the awful sun, twice as large as a +sphere that the whole orbit of the moon would but just girdle,--it leaves +the wrestling of all their forces, which are at a dead lock with each +other, all fighting for it, and springs straight to the magnet. What a +lucky thing it is for well-conducted persons that the maddening elective +affinities don't come into play in full force very often! + +I suppose I am making a good deal more of our prospective visit than it +deserves. It must be because I have got it into my head that we are +bound to have some kind of sentimental outbreak amongst us, and that this +will give a chance for advances on the part of anybody disposed in that +direction. A little change of circumstance often hastens on a movement +that has been long in preparation. A chemist will show you a flask +containing a clear liquid; he will give it a shake or two, and the whole +contents of the flask will become solid in an instant. Or you may lay a +little heap of iron-filings on a sheet of paper with a magnet beneath it, +and they will be quiet enough as they are, but give the paper a slight +jar and the specks of metal will suddenly find their way to the north or +the south pole of the magnet and take a definite shape not unpleasing to +contemplate, and curiously illustrating the laws of attraction, +antagonism, and average, by which the worlds, conscious and unconscious, +are alike governed. So with our little party, with any little party of +persons who have got used to each other; leave them undisturbed and they +might remain in a state of equilibrium forever; but let anything give +them a shake or a jar, and the long-striving but hindered affinities come +all at once into play and finish the work of a year in five minutes. + +We were all a good deal excited by the anticipation of this visit. The +Capitalist, who for the most part keeps entirely to himself, seemed to +take an interest in it and joined the group in the parlor who were making +arrangements as to the details of the eventful expedition, which was very +soon to take place. The Young Girl was full of enthusiasm; she is one of +those young persons, I think, who are impressible, and of necessity +depressible when their nervous systems are overtasked, but elastic, +recovering easily from mental worries and fatigues, and only wanting a +little change of their conditions to get back their bloom and +cheerfulness. I could not help being pleased to see how much of the +child was left in her, after all the drudgery she had been through. What +is there that youth will not endure and triumph over? Here she was; her +story for the week was done in good season; she had got rid of her +villain by a new and original catastrophe; she had received a sum of +money for an extra string of verses,--painfully small, it is true, but it +would buy her a certain ribbon she wanted for the great excursion; and +now her eyes sparkled so that I forgot how tired and hollow they +sometimes looked when she had been sitting up half the night over her +endless manuscript. + +The morning of the day we had looked forward to--promised as good an +evening as we could wish. The Capitalist, whose courteous and bland +demeanor would never have suggested the thought that he was a robber and +an enemy of his race, who was to be trampled underfoot by the beneficent +regenerators of the social order as preliminary to the universal reign of +peace on earth and good-will to men, astonished us all with a proposal to +escort the three ladies and procure a carriage for their conveyance. The +Lady thanked him in a very cordial way, but said she thought nothing of +the walk. The Landlady looked disappointed at this answer. For her part +she was on her legs all day and should be glad enough to ride, if so be +he was going to have a carriage at any rate. It would be a sight +pleasanter than to trudge afoot, but she would n't have him go to the +expense on her account. Don't mention it, madam,--r--said the +Capitalist, in a generous glow of enthusiasm. As for the Young Girl, she +did not often get a chance for a drive, and liked the idea of it for its +own sake, as children do, and she insisted that the Lady should go in the +carriage with her. So it was settled that the Capitalist should take the +three ladies in a carriage, and the rest of us go on foot. + +The evening behaved as it was bound to do on so momentous an occasion. +The Capitalist was dressed with almost suspicious nicety. We pedestrians +could not help waiting to see them off, and I thought he handed the +ladies into the carriage with the air of a French marquis. + +I walked with Dr. Benjamin and That Boy, and we had to keep the little +imp on the trot a good deal of the way in order not to be too long behind +the carriage party. The Member of the Haouse walked with our two +dummies,--I beg their pardon, I mean the Register of Deeds and the +Salesman. + +The Man of Letters, hypothetically so called, walked by himself, smoking +a short pipe which was very far from suggesting the spicy breezes that +blow soft from Ceylon's isle. + +I suppose everybody who reads this paper has visited one or more +observatories, and of course knows all about them. But as it may +hereafter be translated into some foreign tongue and circulated among +barbarous, but rapidly improving people, people who have as yet no +astronomers among them, it may be well to give a little notion of what +kind of place an observatory is. + +To begin then: a deep and solid stone foundation is laid in the earth, +and a massive pier of masonry is built up on it. A heavy block of +granite forms the summit of this pier, and on this block rests the +equatorial telescope. Around this structure a circular tower is built, +with two or more floors which come close up to the pier, but do not touch +it at any point. It is crowned with a hemispherical dome, which, I may +remark, half realizes the idea of my egg-shell studio. This dome is +cleft from its base to its summit by a narrow, ribbon-like opening, +through which is seen the naked sky. It revolves on cannon-balls, so +easily that a single hand can move it, and thus the opening may be turned +towards any point of the compass. As the telescope can be raised or +depressed so as to be directed to any elevation from the horizon to the +zenith, and turned around the entire circle with the dome, it can be +pointed to any part of the heavens. But as the star or other celestial +object is always apparently moving, in consequence of the real rotatory +movement of the earth, the telescope is made to follow it automatically +by an ingenious clock-work arrangement. No place, short of the temple of +the living God, can be more solemn. The jars of the restless life around +it do not disturb the serene intelligence of the half-reasoning +apparatus. Nothing can stir the massive pier but the shocks that shake +the solid earth itself. When an earthquake thrills the planet, the +massive turret shudders with the shuddering rocks on which it rests, but +it pays no heed to the wildest tempest, and while the heavens are +convulsed and shut from the eye of the far-seeing instrument it waits +without a tremor for the blue sky to come back. It is the type of the +true and steadfast man of the Roman poet, whose soul remains unmoved +while the firmament cracks and tumbles about him. It is the material +image of the Christian; his heart resting on the Rock of Ages, his eye +fixed on the brighter world above. + +I did not say all this while we were looking round among these wonders, +quite new to many of us. People don't talk in straight-off sentences +like that. They stumble and stop, or get interrupted, change a word, +begin again, miss connections of verbs and nouns, and so on, till they +blunder out their meaning. But I did let fall a word or two, showing the +impression the celestial laboratory produced upon me. I rather think I +must own to the "Rock of Ages" comparison. Thereupon the "Man of +Letters," so called, took his pipe from his mouth, and said that he did +n't go in "for sentiment and that sort of thing. Gush was played out." + +The Member of the Haouse, who, as I think, is not wanting in that homely +good sense which one often finds in plain people from the huckleberry +districts, but who evidently supposes the last speaker to be what he +calls "a tahlented mahn," looked a little puzzled. My remark seemed +natural and harmless enough to him, I suppose, but I had been distinctly +snubbed, and the Member of the Haouse thought I must defend myself, as is +customary in the deliberative body to which he belongs, when one +gentleman accuses another gentleman of mental weakness or obliquity. I +could not make up my mind to oblige him at that moment by showing fight. +I suppose that would have pleased my assailant, as I don't think he has a +great deal to lose, and might have made a little capital out of me if he +could have got a laugh out of the Member or either of the dummies,--I beg +their pardon again, I mean the two undemonstrative boarders. But I will +tell you, Beloved, just what I think about this matter. + +We poets, you know, are much given to indulging in sentiment, which is a +mode of consciousness at a discount just now with the new generation of +analysts who are throwing everything into their crucibles. Now we must +not claim too much for sentiment. It does not go a great way in deciding +questions of arithmetic, or algebra, or geometry. Two and two will +undoubtedly make four, irrespective of the emotions or other +idiosyncrasies of the calculator; and the three angles of a triangle +insist on being equal to two right angles, in the face of the most +impassioned rhetoric or the most inspired verse. But inasmuch as religion +and law and the whole social order of civilized society, to say nothing +of literature and art, are so founded on and pervaded by sentiment that +they would all go to pieces without it, it is a word not to be used too +lightly in passing judgment, as if it were an element to be thrown out or +treated with small consideration. Reason may be the lever, but sentiment +gives you the fulcrum and the place to stand on if you want to move the +world. Even "sentimentality," which is sentiment overdone, is better +than that affectation of superiority to human weakness which is only +tolerable as one of the stage properties of full-blown dandyism, and is, +at best, but half-blown cynicism; which participle and noun you can +translate, if you happen to remember the derivation of the last of them, +by a single familiar word. There is a great deal of false sentiment in +the world, as there is of bad logic and erroneous doctrine; but--it is +very much less disagreeable to hear a young poet overdo his emotions, or +even deceive himself about them, than to hear a caustic-epithet flinger +repeating such words as "sentimentality" and "entusymusy,"--one of the +least admirable of Lord Byron's bequests to our language,--for the +purpose of ridiculing him into silence. An overdressed woman is not so +pleasing as she might be, but at any rate she is better than the oil of +vitriol squirter, whose profession it is to teach young ladies to avoid +vanity by spoiling their showy silks and satins. + +The Lady was the first of our party who was invited to look through the +equatorial. Perhaps this world had proved so hard to her that she was +pained to think that other worlds existed, to be homes of suffering and +sorrow. Perhaps she was thinking it would be a happy change when she +should leave this dark planet for one of those brighter spheres. She +sighed, at any rate, but thanked the Young Astronomer for the beautiful +sights he had shown her, and gave way to the next comer, who was That +Boy, now in a state of irrepressible enthusiasm to see the Man in the +Moon. He was greatly disappointed at not making out a colossal human +figure moving round among the shining summits and shadowy ravines of the +"spotty globe." + +The Landlady came next and wished to see the moon also, in preference to +any other object. She was astonished at the revelations of the powerful +telescope. Was there any live creatures to be seen on the moon? she +asked. The Young Astronomer shook his head, smiling a little at the +question.--Was there any meet'n'-houses? There was no evidence, he said, +that the moon was inhabited. As there did not seem to be either air or +water on its surface, the inhabitants would have a rather hard time of +it, and if they went to meeting the sermons would be apt to be rather +dry. If there were a building on it as big as York minster, as big as +the Boston Coliseum, the great telescopes like Lord Rosse's would make it +out. But it seemed to be a forlorn place; those who had studied it most +agreed in considering it a "cold, crude, silent, and desolate" ruin of +nature, without the possibility, if life were on it, of articulate +speech, of music, even of sound. Sometimes a greenish tint was seen upon +its surface, which might have been taken for vegetation, but it was +thought not improbably to be a reflection from the vast forests of South +America. The ancients had a fancy, some of them, that the face of the +moon was a mirror in which the seas and shores of the earth were imaged. +Now we know the geography of the side toward us about as well as that of +Asia, better than that of Africa. The Astronomer showed them one of the +common small photographs of the moon. He assured them that he had +received letters inquiring in all seriousness if these alleged lunar +photographs were not really taken from a peeled orange. People had got +angry with him for laughing at them for asking such a question. Then he +gave them an account of the famous moon-hoax which came out, he believed, +in 1835. It was full of the most bare-faced absurdities, yet people +swallowed it all, and even Arago is said to have treated it seriously as +a thing that could not well be true, for Mr. Herschel would have +certainly notified him of these marvellous discoveries. The writer of it +had not troubled himself to invent probabilities, but had borrowed his +scenery from the Arabian Nights and his lunar inhabitants from Peter +Wilkins. + +After this lecture the Capitalist stepped forward and applied his eye to +the lens. I suspect it to have been shut most of the time, for I observe +a good many elderly people adjust the organ of vision to any optical +instrument in that way. I suppose it is from the instinct of protection +to the eye, the same instinct as that which makes the raw militia-man +close it when he pulls the, trigger of his musket the first time. He +expressed himself highly gratified, however, with what he saw, and +retired from the instrument to make room for the Young Girl. + +She threw her hair back and took her position at the instrument. Saint +Simeon Stylites the Younger explained the wonders of the moon to +her,--Tycho and the grooves radiating from it, Kepler and Copernicus with +their craters and ridges, and all the most brilliant shows of this +wonderful little world. I thought he was more diffuse and more +enthusiastic in his descriptions than he had been with the older members +of the party. I don't doubt the old gentleman who lived so long on the +top of his pillar would have kept a pretty sinner (if he could have had +an elevator to hoist her up to him) longer than he would have kept her +grandmother. These young people are so ignorant, you know. As for our +Scheherezade, her delight was unbounded, and her curiosity insatiable. +If there were any living creatures there, what odd things they must be. +They could n't have any lungs, nor any hearts. What a pity! Did they +ever die? How could they expire if they didn't breathe? Burn up? No +air to burn in. Tumble into some of those horrid pits, perhaps, and +break all to bits. She wondered how the young people there liked it, or +whether there were any young people there; perhaps nobody was young and +nobody was old, but they were like mummies all of them--what an idea +--two mummies making love to each other! So she went on in a rattling, +giddy kind of way, for she was excited by the strange scene in which she +found herself, and quite astonished the Young Astronomer with her +vivacity. All at once she turned to him. + +Will you show me the double star you said I should see? + +With the greatest pleasure,--he said, and proceeded to wheel the +ponderous dome, and then to adjust the instrument, I think to the one in +Andromeda, or that in Cygnus, but I should not know one of them from the +other. + +How beautiful!--she said as she looked at the wonderful object.---One is +orange red and one is emerald green. + +The young man made an explanation in which he said something about +complementary colors. + +Goodness!--exclaimed the Landlady.---What! complimentary to our party? + +Her wits must have been a good deal confused by the strange sights of the +evening. She had seen tickets marked complimentary, she remembered, but +she could not for the life of her understand why our party should be +particularly favored at a celestial exhibition like this. On the whole, +she questioned inwardly whether it might not be some subtle pleasantry, +and smiled, experimentally, with a note of interrogation in the smile, +but, finding no encouragement, allowed her features to subside gradually +as if nothing had happened. I saw all this as plainly as if it had all +been printed in great-primer type, instead of working itself out in her +features. I like to see other people muddled now and then, because my +own occasional dulness is relieved by a good solid background of +stupidity in my neighbors. + +--And the two revolve round each other?--said the Young Girl. + +--Yes,--he answered,--two suns, a greater and a less, each shining, but +with a different light, for the other. + +--How charming! It must be so much pleasanter than to be alone in such a +great empty space! I should think one would hardly care to shine if its +light wasted itself in the monstrous solitude of the sky. Does not a +single star seem very lonely to you up there? + +--Not more lonely than I am myself,--answered the Young Astronomer. + +--I don't know what there was in those few words, but I noticed that for +a minute or two after they, were uttered I heard the ticking of the +clock-work that moved the telescope as clearly as if we had all been +holding our breath, and listening for the music of the spheres. + +The Young Girl kept her eye closely applied to the eye-piece of the +telescope a very long time, it seemed to me. Those double stars +interested her a good deal, no doubt. When she looked off from the glass +I thought both her eyes appeared very much as if they had been a little +strained, for they were suffused and glistening. It may be that she +pitied the lonely young man. + +I know nothing in the world tenderer than the pity that a kind-hearted +young girl has for a young man who feels lonely. It is true that these +dear creatures are all compassion for every form of human woe, and +anxious to alleviate all human misfortunes. They will go to +Sunday-schools through storms their brothers are afraid of, to teach the +most unpleasant and intractable classes of little children the age of +Methuselah and the dimensions of Og the King of Bashan's bedstead. They +will stand behind a table at a fair all day until they are ready to drop, +dressed in their prettiest clothes and their sweetest smiles, and lay +hands upon you, like--so many Lady Potiphars,--perfectly correct ones, of +course,--to make you buy what you do not want, at prices which you cannot +afford; all this as cheerfully as if it were not martyrdom to them as +well as to you. Such is their love for all good objects, such their +eagerness to sympathize with all their suffering fellow-creatures! But +there is nothing they pity as they pity a lonely young man. + +I am sure, I sympathize with her in this instance. To see a pale student +burning away, like his own midnight lamp, with only dead men's hands to +hold, stretched out to him from the sepulchres of books, and dead men's +souls imploring him from their tablets to warm them over again just for a +little while in a human consciousness, when all this time there are soft, +warm, living hands that would ask nothing better than to bring the blood +back into those cold thin fingers, and gently caressing natures that +would wind all their tendrils about the unawakened heart which knows so +little of itself, is pitiable enough and would be sadder still if we did +not have the feeling that sooner or later the pale student will be pretty +sure to feel the breath of a young girl against his cheek as she looks +over his shoulder; and that he will come all at once to an illuminated +page in his book that never writer traced in characters, and never +printer set up in type, and never binder enclosed within his covers! But +our young man seems farther away from life than any student whose head is +bent downwards over his books. His eyes are turned away from all human +things. How cold the moonlight is that falls upon his forehead, and how +white he looks in it! Will not the rays strike through to his brain at +last, and send him to a narrower cell than this egg-shell dome which is +his workshop and his prison? + +I cannot say that the Young Astronomer seemed particularly impressed with +a sense of his miserable condition. He said he was lonely, it is true, +but he said it in a manly tone, and not as if he were repining at the +inevitable condition of his devoting himself to that particular branch of +science. Of course, he is lonely, the most lonely being that lives in +the midst of our breathing world. If he would only stay a little longer +with us when we get talking; but he is busy almost always either in +observation or with his calculations and studies, and when the nights are +fair loses so much sleep that he must make it up by day. He wants +contact with human beings. I wish he would change his seat and come +round and sit by our Scheherezade! + +The rest of the visit went off well enough, except that the "Man of +Letters," so called, rather snubbed some of the heavenly bodies as not +quite up to his standard of brilliancy. I thought myself that the +double-star episode was the best part of it. + +I have an unexpected revelation to make to the reader. Not long after +our visit to the Observatory, the Young Astronomer put a package into my +hands, a manuscript, evidently, which he said he would like to have me +glance over. I found something in it which interested me, and told him +the next day that I should like to read it with some care. He seemed +rather pleased at this, and said that he wished I would criticise it as +roughly as I liked, and if I saw anything in it which might be dressed to +better advantage to treat it freely, just as if it were my own +production. It had often happened to him, he went on to say, to be +interrupted in his observations by clouds covering the objects he was +examining for a longer or shorter time. In these idle moments he had put +down many thoughts, unskilfully he feared, but just as they came into his +mind. His blank verse he suspected was often faulty. His thoughts he +knew must be crude, many of them. It would please him to have me amuse +myself by putting them into shape. He was kind enough to say that I was +an artist in words, but he held himself as an unskilled apprentice. + +I confess I was appalled when I cast my eye upon the title of the +manuscript, "Cirri and Nebulae." + +--Oh! oh!--I said,--that will never do. People don't know what Cirri +are, at least not one out of fifty readers. "Wind-Clouds and +Star-Drifts" will do better than that. + +--Anything you like,--he answered,--what difference does it make how you +christen a foundling? These are not my legitimate scientific offspring, +and you may consider them left on your doorstep. + +--I will not attempt to say just how much of the diction of these lines +belongs to him, and how much to me. He said he would never claim them, +after I read them to him in my version. I, on my part, do not wish to be +held responsible for some of his more daring thoughts, if I should see +fit to reproduce them hereafter. At this time I shall give only the +first part of the series of poetical outbreaks for which the young +devotee of science must claim his share of the responsibility. I may put +some more passages into shape by and by. + + WIND-CLOUDS AND STAR-DRIFTS. + + I + + Another clouded night; the stars are hid, + The orb that waits my search is hid with them. + Patience! Why grudge an hour, a month, a year, + To plant my ladder and to gain the round + That leads my footsteps to the heaven of fame, + Where waits the wreath my sleepless midnights won? + Not the stained laurel such as heroes wear + That withers when some stronger conqueror's heel + Treads down their shrivelling trophies in the dust; + But the fair garland whose undying green + Not time can change, nor wrath of gods or men! + + With quickened heart-beats I shall hear the tongues + That speak my praise; but better far the sense + That in the unshaped ages, buried deep + In the dark mines of unaccomplished time + Yet to be stamped with morning's royal die + And coined in golden days,--in those dim years + I shall be reckoned with the undying dead, + My name emblazoned on the fiery arch, + Unfading till the stars themselves shall fade. + Then, as they call the roll of shining worlds, + Sages of race unborn in accents new + Shall count me with the Olympian ones of old, + Whose glories kindle through the midnight sky + Here glows the God of Battles; this recalls + The Lord of Ocean, and yon far-off sphere + The Sire of Him who gave his ancient name + To the dim planet with the wondrous rings; + Here flames the Queen of Beauty's silver lamp, + And there the moon-girt orb of mighty Jove; + But this, unseen through all earth's aeons past, + A youth who watched beneath the western star + Sought in the darkness, found, and showed to men; + Linked with his name thenceforth and evermore! + So shall that name be syllabled anew + In all the tongues of all the tribes of men: + I that have been through immemorial years + Dust in the dust of my forgotten time + Shall live in accents shaped of blood-warm breath, + Yea, rise in mortal semblance, newly born + In shining stone, in undecaying bronze, + And stand on high, and look serenely down + On the new race that calls the earth its own. + + Is this a cloud, that, blown athwart my soul, + Wears a false seeming of the pearly stain + Where worlds beyond the world their mingling rays + Blend in soft white,--a cloud that, born of earth, + Would cheat the soul that looks for light from heaven? + Must every coral-insect leave his sign + On each poor grain he lent to build the reef, + As Babel's builders stamped their sunburnt clay, + Or deem his patient service all in vain? + What if another sit beneath the shade + Of the broad elm I planted by the way, + --What if another heed the beacon light + I set upon the rock that wrecked my keel, + Have I not done my task and served my kind? + Nay, rather act thy part, unnamed, unknown, + And let Fame blow her trumpet through the world + With noisy wind to swell a fool's renown, + Joined with some truth be stumbled blindly o'er, + Or coupled with some single shining deed + That in the great account of all his days + Will stand alone upon the bankrupt sheet + His pitying angel shows the clerk of Heaven. + The noblest service comes from nameless hands, + And the best servant does his work unseen. + Who found the seeds of fire and made them shoot, + Fed by his breath, in buds and flowers of flame? + Who forged in roaring flames the ponderous stone, + And shaped the moulded metal to his need? + Who gave the dragging car its rolling wheel, + And tamed the steed that whirls its circling round? + All these have left their work and not their names, + Why should I murmur at a fate like theirs? + This is the heavenly light; the pearly stain + Was but a wind-cloud drifting oer the stars! + + + + +VI + +I find I have so many things in common with the old Master of Arts, that +I do not always know whether a thought was originally his or mine. That +is what always happens where two persons of a similar cast of mind talk +much together. And both of them often gain by the interchange. Many +ideas grow better when transplanted into another mind than in the one +where they sprang up. That which was a weed in one intelligence becomes +a flower in the other. A flower, on the other hand, may dwindle down to +a mere weed by the same change. Healthy growths may become poisonous by +falling upon the wrong mental soil, and what seemed a night-shade in one +mind unfold as a morning-glory in the other. + +--I thank God,--the Master said,--that a great many people believe a +great deal more than I do. I think, when it comes to serious matters, I +like those who believe more than I do better than those who believe less. + +--Why,--said I,--you have got hold of one of my own working axioms. I +should like to hear you develop it. + +The Member of the Haouse said he should be glad to listen to the debate. +The gentleman had the floor. The Scarabee rose from his chair and +departed;--I thought his joints creaked as he straightened himself. + +The Young Girl made a slight movement; it was a purely accidental +coincidence, no doubt, but I saw That Boy put his hand in his pocket and +pull out his popgun, and begin loading it. It cannot be that our +Scheherezade, who looks so quiet and proper at the table, can make use of +That Boy and his catapult to control the course of conversation and +change it to suit herself! She certainly looks innocent enough; but what +does a blush prove, and what does its absence prove, on one of these +innocent faces? There is nothing in all this world that can lie and +cheat like the face and the tongue of a young girl. Just give her a +little touch of hysteria,--I don't mean enough of it to make her friends +call the doctor in, but a slight hint of it in the nervous system,--and +"Machiavel the waiting-maid" might take lessons of her. But I cannot +think our Scheherezade is one of that kind, and I am ashamed of myself +for noting such a trifling coincidence as that which excited my +suspicion. + +--I say,--the Master continued,--that I had rather be in the company of +those who believe more than I do, in spiritual matters at least, than of +those who doubt what I accept as a part of my belief. + +--To tell the truth,--said I,--I find that difficulty sometimes in +talking with you. You have not quite so many hesitations as I have in +following out your logical conclusions. I suppose you would bring some +things out into daylight questioning that I had rather leave in that +twilight of half-belief peopled with shadows--if they are only +shadows--more sacred to me than many realities. + +There is nothing I do not question,--said the Master;--I not only begin +with the precept of Descartes, but I hold all my opinions involving any +chain of reasoning always open to revision. + +--I confess that I smiled internally to hear him say that. The old +Master thinks he is open to conviction on all subjects; but if you meddle +with some of his notions and don't get tossed on his horns as if a bull +had hold of you, I should call you lucky. + +--You don't mean you doubt everything?--I said. + +--What do you think I question everything for, the Master replied,--if I +never get any answers? You've seen a blind man with a stick, feeling his +way along? Well, I am a blind man with a stick, and I find the world +pretty full of men just as blind as I am, but without any stick. I try +the ground to find out whether it is firm or not before I rest my weight +on it; but after it has borne my weight, that question at least is +answered. It very certainly was strong enough once; the presumption is +that it is strong enough now. Still the soil may have been undermined, +or I may have grown heavier. Make as much of that as you will. I say I +question everything; but if I find Bunker Hill Monument standing as +straight as when I leaned against it a year or ten years ago, I am not +very much afraid that Bunker Hill will cave in if I trust myself again on +the soil of it. + +I glanced off, as one often does in talk. + +The Monument is an awful place to visit,--I said.---The waves of time are +like the waves of the ocean; the only thing they beat against without +destroying it is a rock; and they destroy that at last. But it takes a +good while. There is a stone now standing in very good order that was as +old as a monument of Louis XIV. and Queen Anne's day is now when Joseph +went down into Egypt. Think of the shaft on Bunker Hill standing in the +sunshine on the morning of January 1st in the year 5872! + +It won't be standing,--the Master said.---We are poor bunglers compared +to those old Egyptians. There are no joints in one of their obelisks. +They are our masters in more ways than we know of, and in more ways than +some of us are willing to know. That old Lawgiver wasn't learned in all +the wisdom of the Egyptians for nothing. It scared people well a couple +of hundred years ago when Sir John Marsham and Dr. John Spencer ventured +to tell their stories about the sacred ceremonies of the Egyptian +priesthood. People are beginning to find out now that you can't study +any religion by itself to any good purpose. You must have comparative +theology as you have comparative anatomy. What would you make of a cat's +foolish little good-for-nothing collar-bone, if you did not know how the +same bone means a good deal in other creatures,--in yourself, for +instance, as you 'll find out if you break it? You can't know too much +of your race and its beliefs, if you want to know anything about your +Maker. I never found but one sect large enough to hold the whole of me. + +--And may I ask what that was?--I said. + +--The Human sect,--the Master answered. That has about room enough for +me,--at present, I mean to say. + +--Including cannibals and all?--said I. + +-Oh, as to that, the eating of one's kind is a matter of taste, but the +roasting of them has been rather more a specialty of our own particular +belief than of any other I am acquainted with. If you broil a saint, I +don't see why, if you have a mind, you shouldn't serve him up at your-- + +Pop! went the little piece of artillery. Don't tell me it was accident. +I know better. You can't suppose for one minute that a boy like that one +would time his interruptions so cleverly. Now it so happened that at +that particular moment Dr. B. Franklin was not at the table. You may +draw your own conclusions. I say nothing, but I think a good deal. + +--I came back to the Bunker Hill Monument.---I often think--I said--of +the dynasty which is to reign in its shadow for some thousands of years, +it may be. + +The "Man of Letters," so called, asked me, in a tone I did not exactly +like, whether I expected to live long enough to see a monarchy take the +place of a republic in this country. + +--No,--said I,--I was thinking of something very different. I was +indulging a fancy of mine about the Man who is to sit at the foot of the +monument for one, or it may be two or three thousand years. As long as +the monument stands and there is a city near it, there will always be a +man to take the names of visitors and extract some small tribute from +their pockets, I suppose. I sometimes get thinking of the long, unbroken +succession of these men, until they come to look like one Man; continuous +in being, unchanging as the stone he watches, looking upon the successive +generations of human beings as they come and go, and outliving all the +dynasties of the world in all probability. It has come to such a pass +that I never speak to the Man of the Monument without wanting to take my +hat off and feeling as if I were looking down a vista of twenty or thirty +centuries. + +The "Man of Letters," so called, said, in a rather contemptuous way, I +thought, that he had n't got so far as that. He was n't quite up to +moral reflections on toll-men and ticket-takers. Sentiment was n't his +tap. + +He looked round triumphantly for a response: but the Capitalist was a +little hard of hearing just then; the Register of Deeds was browsing on +his food in the calm bovine abstraction of a quadruped, and paid no +attention; the Salesman had bolted his breakfast, and whisked himself +away with that peculiar alacrity which belongs to the retail dealer's +assistant; and the Member of the Haouse, who had sometimes seemed to be +impressed with his "tahlented mahn's" air of superiority to the rest of +us, looked as if he thought the speaker was not exactly parliamentary. +So he failed to make his point, and reddened a little, and was not in the +best humor, I thought, when he left the table. I hope he will not let +off any of his irritation on our poor little Scheherezade; but the truth +is, the first person a man of this sort (if he is what I think him) +meets, when he is out of humor, has to be made a victim of, and I only +hope our Young Girl will not have to play Jephthah's daughter. + +And that leads me to say, I cannot help thinking that the kind of +criticism to which this Young Girl has been subjected from some person or +other, who is willing to be smart at her expense, is hurtful and not +wholesome. The question is a delicate one. So many foolish persons are +rushing into print, that it requires a kind of literary police to hold +them back and keep them in order. Where there are mice there must be +cats, and where there are rats we may think it worth our while to keep a +terrier, who will give them a shake and let them drop, with all the +mischief taken out of them. But the process is a rude and cruel one at +best, and it too often breeds a love of destructiveness for its own sake +in those who get their living by it. A poor poem or essay does not do +much harm after all; nobody reads it who is like to be seriously hurt by +it. But a sharp criticism with a drop of witty venom in it stings a +young author almost to death, and makes an old one uncomfortable to no +purpose. If it were my business to sit in judgment on my neighbors, I +would try to be courteous, at least, to those who had done any good +service, but, above all, I would handle tenderly those young authors who +are coming before the public in the flutter of their first or early +appearance, and are in the trembling delirium of stage-fright already. +Before you write that brilliant notice of some alliterative Angelina's +book of verses, I wish you would try this experiment. + +Take half a sheet of paper and copy upon it any of Angelina's +stanzas,--the ones you were going to make fun of, if you will. Now go to +your window, if it is a still day, open it, and let the half-sheet of +paper drop on the outside. How gently it falls through the soft air, +always tending downwards, but sliding softly, from side to side, +wavering, hesitating, balancing, until it settles as noiselessly as a +snow-flake upon the all-receiving bosom of the earth! Just such would +have been the fate of poor Angelina's fluttering effort, if you had left +it to itself. It would have slanted downward into oblivion so sweetly +and softly that she would have never known when it reached that harmless +consummation. + +Our epizoic literature is becoming so extensive that nobody is safe from +its ad infinitum progeny. A man writes a book of criticisms. A +Quarterly Review criticises the critic. A Monthly Magazine takes up the +critic's critic. A Weekly Journal criticises the critic of the critic's +critic, and a daily paper favors us with some critical remarks on the +performance of the writer in the Weekly, who has criticised the critical +notice in the Monthly of the critical essay in the Quarterly on the +critical work we started with. And thus we see that as each flea "has +smaller fleas that on him prey," even the critic himself cannot escape +the common lot of being bitten. Whether all this is a blessing or a +curse, like that one which made Pharaoh and all his household run to +their toilet-tables, is a question about which opinions might differ. +The physiologists of the time of Moses--if there were vivisectors other +than priests in those days--would probably have considered that other +plague, of the frogs, as a fortunate opportunity for science, as this +poor little beast has been the souffre-douleur of experimenters and +schoolboys from time immemorial. + +But there is a form of criticism to which none will object. It is +impossible to come before a public so alive with sensibilities as this we +live in, with the smallest evidence of a sympathetic disposition, without +making friends in a very unexpected way. Everywhere there are minds +tossing on the unquiet waves of doubt. If you confess to the same +perplexities and uncertainties that torture them, they are grateful for +your companionship. If you have groped your way out of the wilderness in +which you were once wandering with them, they will follow your footsteps, +it may be, and bless you as their deliverer. So, all at once, a writer +finds he has a parish of devout listeners, scattered, it is true, beyond +the reach of any summons but that of a trumpet like the archangel's, to +whom his slight discourse may be of more value than the exhortations they +hear from the pulpit, if these last do not happen to suit their special +needs. Young men with more ambition and intelligence than force of +character, who have missed their first steps in life and are stumbling +irresolute amidst vague aims and changing purposes, hold out their hands, +imploring to be led into, or at least pointed towards, some path where +they can find a firm foothold. Young women born into a chilling +atmosphere of circumstance which keeps all the buds of their nature +unopened and always striving to get to a ray of sunshine, if one finds +its way to their neighborhood, tell their stories, sometimes simply and +touchingly, sometimes in a more or less affected and rhetorical way, but +still stories of defeated and disappointed instincts which ought to make +any moderately impressible person feel very tenderly toward them. + +In speaking privately to these young persons, many of whom have literary +aspirations, one should be very considerate of their human feelings. But +addressing them collectively a few plain truths will not give any one of +them much pain. Indeed, almost every individual among them will feel +sure that he or she is an exception to those generalities which apply so +well to the rest. + +If I were a literary Pope sending out an Encyclical, I would tell these +inexperienced persons that nothing is so frequent as to mistake an +ordinary human gift for a special and extraordinary endowment. The +mechanism of breathing and that of swallowing are very wonderful, and if +one had seen and studied them in his own person only, he might well think +himself a prodigy. Everybody knows these and other bodily faculties are +common gifts; but nobody except editors and school-teachers and here and +there a literary than knows how common is the capacity of rhyming and +prattling in readable prose, especially among young women of a certain +degree of education. In my character of Pontiff, I should tell these +young persons that most of them labored under a delusion. It is very +hard to believe it; one feels so full of intelligence and so decidedly +superior to one's dull relations and schoolmates; one writes so easily +and the lines sound so prettily to one's self; there are such felicities +of expression, just like those we hear quoted from the great poets; and +besides one has been told by so many friends that all one had to do was +to print and be famous! Delusion, my poor dear, delusion at least +nineteen times out of twenty, yes, ninety-nine times in a hundred. + +But as private father confessor, I always allow as much as I can for the +one chance in the hundred. I try not to take away all hope, unless the +case is clearly desperate, and then to direct the activities into some +other channel. + +Using kind language, I can talk pretty freely. I have counselled more +than one aspirant after literary fame to go back to his tailor's board or +his lapstone. I have advised the dilettanti, whose foolish friends +praised their verses or their stories, to give up all their deceptive +dreams of making a name by their genius, and go to work in the study of a +profession which asked only for the diligent use of average; ordinary +talents. It is a very grave responsibility which these unknown +correspondents throw upon their chosen counsellors. One whom you have +never seen, who lives in a community of which you know nothing, sends you +specimens more or less painfully voluminous of his writings, which he +asks you to read over, think over, and pray over, and send back an answer +informing him whether fame and fortune are awaiting him as the possessor +of the wonderful gifts his writings manifest, and whether you advise him +to leave all,--the shop he sweeps out every morning, the ledger he posts, +the mortar in which he pounds, the bench at which he urges the reluctant +plane,--and follow his genius whithersoever it may lead him. The next +correspondent wants you to mark out a whole course of life for him, and +the means of judgment he gives you are about as adequate as the brick +which the simpleton of old carried round as an advertisement of the house +he had to sell. My advice to all the young men that write to me depends +somewhat on the handwriting and spelling. If these are of a certain +character, and they have reached a mature age, I recommend some honest +manual calling, such as they have very probably been bred to, and which +will, at least, give them a chance of becoming President of the United +States by and by, if that is any object to them. What would you have +done with the young person who called on me a good many years ago, so +many that he has probably forgotten his literary effort,--and read as +specimens of his literary workmanship lines like those which I will favor +you with presently? He was an able-bodied, grown-up young person, whose +ingenuousness interested me; and I am sure if I thought he would ever be +pained to see his maiden effort in print, I would deny myself the +pleasure of submitting it to the reader. The following is an exact +transcript of the lines he showed me, and which I took down on the spot: + + "Are you in the vein for cider? + Are you in the tune for pork? + Hist! for Betty's cleared the larder + And turned the pork to soap." + +Do not judge too hastily this sincere effort of a maiden muse. Here was +a sense of rhythm, and an effort in the direction of rhyme; here was an +honest transcript of an occurrence of daily life, told with a certain +idealizing expression, recognizing the existence of impulses, mysterious +instincts, impelling us even in the selection of our bodily sustenance. +But I had to tell him that it wanted dignity of incident and grace of +narrative, that there was no atmosphere to it, nothing of the light that +never was and so forth. I did not say this in these very words, but I +gave him to understand, without being too hard upon him, that he had +better not desert his honest toil in pursuit of the poet's bays. This, +it must be confessed, was a rather discouraging case. A young person +like this may pierce, as the Frenchmen say, by and by, but the chances +are all the other way. + +I advise aimless young men to choose some profession without needless +delay, and so get into a good strong current of human affairs, and find +themselves bound up in interests with a compact body of their fellow-men. + +I advise young women who write to me for counsel,--perhaps I do not +advise them at all, only sympathize a little with them, and listen to +what they have to say (eight closely written pages on the average, which +I always read from beginning to end, thinking of the widow's cruse and +myself in the character of Elijah) and--and--come now, I don't believe +Methuselah would tell you what he said in his letters to young ladies, +written when he was in his nine hundred and sixty-ninth year. + +But, dear me! how much work all this private criticism involves! An +editor has only to say "respectfully declined," and there is the end of +it. But the confidential adviser is expected to give the reasons of his +likes and dislikes in detail, and sometimes to enter into an argument for +their support. That is more than any martyr can stand, but what trials +he must go through, as it is! Great bundles of manuscripts, verse or +prose, which the recipient is expected to read, perhaps to recommend to a +publisher, at any rate to express a well-digested and agreeably flavored +opinion about; which opinion, nine times out of ten, disguise it as we +may, has to be a bitter draught; every form of egotism, conceit, false +sentiment, hunger for notoriety, and eagerness for display of anserine +plumage before the admiring public;--all these come in by mail or +express, covered with postage-stamps of so much more cost than the value +of the waste words they overlie, that one comes at last to groan and +change color at the very sight of a package, and to dread the postman's +knock as if it were that of the other visitor whose naked knuckles rap at +every door. + +Still there are experiences which go far towards repaying all these +inflictions. My last young man's case looked desperate enough; some of +his sails had blown from the rigging, some were backing in the wind, and +some were flapping and shivering, but I told him which way to head, and +to my surprise he promised to do just as I directed, and I do not doubt +is under full sail at this moment. + +What if I should tell my last, my very recent experience with the other +sex? I received a paper containing the inner history of a young woman's +life, the evolution of her consciousness from its earliest record of +itself, written so thoughtfully, so sincerely, with so much firmness and +yet so much delicacy, with such truth of detail and such grace in the +manner of telling, that I finished the long manuscript almost at a +sitting, with a pleasure rarely, almost never experienced in voluminous +communications which one has to spell out of handwriting. This was from +a correspondent who made my acquaintance by letter when she was little +more than a child, some years ago. How easy at that early period to have +silenced her by indifference, to have wounded her by a careless epithet, +perhaps even to have crushed her as one puts his heel on a weed! A very +little encouragement kept her from despondency, and brought back one of +those overflows of gratitude which make one more ashamed of himself for +being so overpaid than he would be for having committed any of the lesser +sins. But what pleased me most in the paper lately received was to see +how far the writer had outgrown the need of any encouragement of mine; +that she had strengthened out of her tremulous questionings into a +self-reliance and self-poise which I had hardly dared to anticipate for +her. Some of my readers who are also writers have very probably had more +numerous experiences of this kind than I can lay claim to; +self-revelations from unknown and sometimes nameless friends, who write +from strange corners where the winds have wafted some stray words of +theirs which have lighted in the minds and reached the hearts of those to +whom they were as the angel that stirred the pool of Bethesda. Perhaps +this is the best reward authorship brings; it may not imply much talent +or literary excellence, but it means that your way of thinking and +feeling is just what some one of your fellow-creatures needed. + +--I have been putting into shape, according to his request, some further +passages from the Young Astronomer's manuscript, some of which the reader +will have a chance to read if he is so disposed. The conflict in the +young man's mind between the desire for fame and the sense of its +emptiness as compared with nobler aims has set me thinking about the +subject from a somewhat humbler point of view. As I am in the habit of +telling you, Beloved, many of my thoughts, as well as of repeating what +was said at our table, you may read what follows as if it were addressed +to you in the course of an ordinary conversation, where I claimed rather +more than my share, as I am afraid I am a little in the habit of doing. + +I suppose we all, those of us who write in verse or prose, have the +habitual feeling that we should like to be remembered. It is to be awake +when all of those who were round us have been long wrapped in slumber. +It is a pleasant thought enough that the name by which we have been +called shall be familiar on the lips of those who come after us, and the +thoughts that wrought themselves out in our intelligence, the emotions +that trembled through our frames, shall live themselves over again in the +minds and hearts of others. + +But is there not something of rest, of calm, in the thought of gently and +gradually fading away out of human remembrance? What line have we +written that was on a level with our conceptions? What page of ours that +does not betray some weakness we would fain have left unrecorded? To +become a classic and share the life of a language is to be ever open to +criticisms, to comparisons, to the caprices of successive generations, to +be called into court and stand a trial before a new jury, once or more +than once in every century. To be forgotten is to sleep in peace with +the undisturbed myriads, no longer subject to the chills and heats, the +blasts, the sleet, the dust, which assail in endless succession that +shadow of a man which we call his reputation. The line which dying we +could wish to blot has been blotted out for us by a hand so tender, so +patient, so used to its kindly task, that the page looks as fair as if it +had never borne the record of our infirmity or our transgression. And +then so few would be wholly content with their legacy of fame. You +remember poor Monsieur Jacques's complaint of the favoritism shown to +Monsieur Berthier,--it is in that exquisite "Week in a French +Country-House." "Have you seen his room? Have you seen how large it is? +Twice as large as mine! He has two jugs, a large one and a little one. +I have only one small one. And a tea-service and a gilt Cupid on the top +of his looking-glass." The famous survivor of himself has had his +features preserved in a medallion, and the slice of his countenance seems +clouded with the thought that it does not belong to a bust; the bust +ought to look happy in its niche, but the statue opposite makes it feel +as if it had been cheated out of half its personality, and the statue +looks uneasy because another stands on a loftier pedestal. But "Ignotus" +and "Miserrimus" are of the great majority in that vast assembly, that +House of Commons whose members are all peers, where to be forgotten is +the standing rule. The dignity of a silent memory is not to be +undervalued. Fame is after all a kind of rude handling, and a name that +is often on vulgar lips seems to borrow something not to be desired, as +the paper money that passes from hand to hand gains somewhat which is a +loss thereby. O sweet, tranquil refuge of oblivion, so far as earth is +concerned, for us poor blundering, stammering, misbehaving creatures who +cannot turn over a leaf of our life's diary without feeling thankful that +its failure can no longer stare us in the face! Not unwelcome shall be +the baptism of dust which hides forever the name that was given in the +baptism of water! We shall have good company whose names are left +unspoken by posterity. "Who knows whether the best of men be known, or +whether there be not more remarkable persons forgot than any that stand +remembered in the known account of time? The greater part must be +content to be as though they had not been; to be found in the register of +God, not in the record of man. Twenty-seven names make up the first +story before the flood, and the recorded names ever since contain not one +living century." + +I have my moods about such things as the Young Astronomer has, as we all +have. There are times when the thought of becoming utterly nothing to +the world we knew so well and loved so much is painful and oppressive; we +gasp as if in a vacuum, missing the atmosphere of life we have so long +been in the habit of breathing. Not the less are there moments when the +aching need of repose comes over us and the requiescat in pace, heathen +benediction as it is, sounds more sweetly in our ears than all the +promises that Fame can hold out to us. + +I wonder whether it ever occurred to you to reflect upon another horror +there must be in leaving a name behind you. Think what a horrid piece of +work the biographers make of a man's private history! Just imagine the +subject of one of those extraordinary fictions called biographies coming +back and reading the life of himself, written very probably by somebody +or other who thought he could turn a penny by doing it, and having the +pleasure of seeing + + "His little bark attendant sail, + Pursue the triumph and partake the gale." + +The ghost of the person condemned to walk the earth in a biography glides +into a public library, and goes to the shelf where his mummied life lies +in its paper cerements. I can see the pale shadow glancing through the +pages and hear the comments that shape themselves in the bodiless +intelligence as if they were made vocal by living lips. + +"Born in July, 1776!" And my honored father killed at the battle of +Bunker Hill! Atrocious libeller! to slander one's family at the start +after such a fashion! + +"The death of his parents left him in charge of his Aunt Nancy, whose +tender care took the place of those parental attentions which should have +guided and protected his infant years, and consoled him for the severity +of another relative." + +--Aunt Nancy! It was Aunt Betsey, you fool! Aunt Nancy used to--she has +been dead these eighty years, so there is no use in mincing matters--she +used to keep a bottle and a stick, and when she had been tasting a drop +out of the bottle the stick used to come off the shelf and I had to taste +that. And here she is made a saint of, and poor Aunt Betsey, that did +everything for me, is slandered by implication as a horrid tyrant. + +"The subject of this commemorative history was remarkable for a +precocious development of intelligence. An old nurse who saw him at the +very earliest period of his existence is said to have spoken of him as +one of the most promising infants she had seen in her long experience. +At school he was equally remarkable, and at a tender age he received a +paper adorned with a cut, inscribed REWARD OF MERIT." + +--I don't doubt the nurse said that,--there were several promising +children born about that time. As for cuts, I got more from the +schoolmaster's rattan than in any other shape. Didn't one of my teachers +split a Gunter's scale into three pieces over the palm of my hand? And +didn't I grin when I saw the pieces fly? No humbug, now, about my +boyhood! + +"His personal appearance was not singularly prepossessing. Inconspicuous +in stature and unattractive in features" + +--You misbegotten son of an ourang and grandson of an ascidian (ghosts +keep up with science, you observe), what business have you to be holding +up my person to the contempt of my posterity? Haven't I been sleeping +for this many a year in quiet, and don't the dandelions and buttercups +look as yellow over me as over the best-looking neighbor I have in the +dormitory? Why do you want to people the minds of everybody that reads +your good-for-nothing libel which you call a "biography" with your +impudent caricatures of a man who was a better-looking fellow than +yourself, I 'll bet you ten to one, a man whom his Latin tutor called +fommosus puer when he was only a freshman? If that's what it means to +make a reputation,--to leave your character and your person, and the good +name of your sainted relatives, and all you were, and all you had and +thought and felt, so far as can be gathered by digging you out of your +most private records, to be manipulated and bandied about and cheapened +in the literary market as a chicken or a turkey or a goose is handled and +bargained over at a provision stall, is n't it better to be content with +the honest blue slate-stone and its inscription informing posterity that +you were a worthy citizen and a respected father of a family? + +--I should like to see any man's biography with corrections and +emendations by his ghost. We don't know each other's secrets quite so +well as we flatter ourselves we do. We don't always know our own secrets +as well as we might. You have seen a tree with different grafts upon it, +an apple or a pear tree we will say. In the late summer months the fruit +on one bough will ripen; I remember just such a tree, and the early +ripening fruit was the Jargonelle. By and by the fruit of another bough +will begin to come into condition; the lovely Saint Michael, as I +remember, grew on the same stock as the Jargonelle in the tree I am +thinking of; and then, when these have all fallen or been gathered, +another, we will say the Winter Nelis, has its turn, and so out of the +same juices have come in succession fruits of the most varied aspects and +flavors. It is the same thing with ourselves, but it takes us a long +while to find it out. The various inherited instincts ripen in +succession. You may be nine tenths paternal at one period of your life, +and nine tenths maternal at another. All at once the traits of some +immediate ancestor may come to maturity unexpectedly on one of the +branches of your character, just as your features at different periods of +your life betray different resemblances to your nearer or more remote +relatives. + +But I want you to let me go back to the Bunker Hill Monument and the +dynasty of twenty or thirty centuries whose successive representatives +are to sit in the gate, like the Jewish monarchs, while the people shall +come by hundreds and by thousands to visit the memorial shaft until the +story of Bunker's Hill is as old as that of Marathon. + +Would not one like to attend twenty consecutive soirees, at each one of +which the lion of the party should be the Man of the Monument, at the +beginning of each century, all the way, we will say, from Anno Domini +2000 to Ann. Dom. 4000,--or, if you think the style of dating will be +changed, say to Ann. Darwinii (we can keep A. D. you see) 1872? Will +the Man be of the Indian type, as President Samuel Stanhope Smith and +others have supposed the transplanted European will become by and by? +Will he have shortened down to four feet and a little more, like the +Esquimaux, or will he have been bred up to seven feet by the use of new +chemical diets, ozonized and otherwise improved atmospheres, and animal +fertilizers? Let us summon him in imagination and ask him a few +questions. + +Is n't it like splitting a toad out of a rock to think of this man of +nineteen or twenty centuries hence coming out from his stony +dwelling-place and speaking with us? What are the questions we should +ask him? He has but a few minutes to stay. Make out your own list; I +will set down a few that come up to me as I write. + +--What is the prevalent religious creed of civilization? + +--Has the planet met with any accident of importance? + +--How general is the republican form of government? + +--Do men fly yet? + +--Has the universal language come into use? + +--Is there a new fuel since the English coal-mines have given out? + +--Is the euthanasia a recognized branch of medical science? + +--Is the oldest inhabitant still living? + +--Is the Daily Advertiser still published? + +--And the Evening Transcript? + +--Is there much inquiry for the works of a writer of the nineteenth +century (Old Style) by--the name of--of-- + +My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth. I cannot imagine the putting +of that question without feeling the tremors which shake a wooer as he +falters out the words the answer to which will make him happy or +wretched. + +Whose works was I going to question him about, do you ask me? Oh, the +writings of a friend of mine, much esteemed by his relatives and others. +But it's of no consequence, after all; I think he says he does not care +much for posthumous reputation. + +I find something of the same interest in thinking about one of the +boarders at our table that I find in my waking dreams concerning the Man +of the Monument. This personage is the Register of Deeds. He is an +unemotional character, living in his business almost as exclusively as +the Scarabee, but without any of that eagerness and enthusiasm which +belong to our scientific specialist. His work is largely, principally, I +may say, mechanical. He has developed, however, a certain amount of +taste for the antiquities of his department, and once in a while brings +out some curious result of his investigations into ancient documents. He +too belongs to a dynasty which will last as long as there is such a thing +as property in land and dwellings. When that is done away with, and we +return to the state of villanage, holding our tenement-houses, all to be +of the same pattern, of the State, that is to say, of the Tammany Ring +which is to take the place of the feudal lord,--the office of Register of +Deeds will, I presume, become useless, and the dynasty will be deposed. + +As we grow older we think more and more of old persons and of old things +and places. As to old persons, it seems as if we never know how much +they have to tell until we are old ourselves and they have been gone +twenty or thirty years. Once in a while we come upon some survivor of +his or her generation that we have overlooked, and feel as if we had +recovered one of the lost books of Livy or fished up the golden +candlestick from the ooze of the Tiber. So it was the other day after my +reminiscences of the old gambrel-roofed house and its visitors. They +found an echo in the recollections of one of the brightest and liveliest +of my suburban friends, whose memory is exact about everything except her +own age, which, there can be no doubt, she makes out a score or two of +years more than it really is. Still she was old enough to touch some +lights--and a shadow or two--into the portraits I had drawn, which made +me wish that she and not I had been the artist who sketched the pictures. +Among the lesser regrets that mingle with graver sorrows for the friends +of an earlier generation we have lost, are our omissions to ask them so +many questions they could have answered easily enough, and would have +been pleased to be asked. There! I say to myself sometimes, in an +absent mood, I must ask her about that. But she of whom I am now +thinking has long been beyond the reach of any earthly questioning, and I +sigh to think how easily I could have learned some fact which I should +have been happy to have transmitted with pious care to those who are to +come after me. How many times I have heard her quote the line about +blessings brightening as they take their flight, and how true it proves +in many little ways that one never thinks of until it is too late. + +The Register of Deeds is not himself advanced in years. But he borrows +an air of antiquity from the ancient records which are stored in his +sepulchral archives. I love to go to his ossuary of dead transactions, +as I would visit the catacombs of Rome or Paris. It is like wandering up +the Nile to stray among the shelves of his monumental folios. Here +stands a series of volumes, extending over a considerable number of +years, all of which volumes are in his handwriting. But as you go +backward there is a break, and you come upon the writing of another +person, who was getting old apparently, for it is beginning to be a +little shaky, and then you know that you have gone back as far as the +last days of his predecessor. Thirty or forty years more carry you to +the time when this incumbent began the duties of his office; his hand was +steady then; and the next volume beyond it in date betrays the work of a +still different writer. All this interests me, but I do not see how it +is going to interest my reader. I do not feel very happy about the +Register of Deeds. What can I do with him? Of what use is he going to +be in my record of what I have seen and heard at the breakfast-table? +The fact of his being one of the boarders was not so important that I was +obliged to speak of him, and I might just as well have drawn on my +imagination and not allowed this dummy to take up the room which another +guest might have profitably filled at our breakfast-table. + +I suppose he will prove a superfluity, but I have got him on my hands, +and I mean that he shall be as little in the way as possible. One always +comes across people in actual life who have no particular business to be +where we find them, and whose right to be at all is somewhat +questionable. + +I am not going to get rid of the Register of Deeds by putting him out of +the way; but I confess I do not see of what service he is going to be to +me in my record. I have often found, however, that the Disposer of men +and things understands much better than we do how to place his pawns and +other pieces on the chess-board of life. A fish more or less in the +ocean does not seem to amount to much. It is not extravagant to say that +any one fish may be considered a supernumerary. But when Captain Coram's +ship sprung a leak and the carpenter could not stop it, and the +passengers had made up their minds that it was all over with them, all at +once, without any apparent reason, the pumps began gaining on the leak, +and the sinking ship to lift herself out of the abyss which was +swallowing her up. And what do you think it was that saved the ship, and +Captain Coram, and so in due time gave to London that Foundling Hospital +which he endowed, and under the floor of which he lies buried? Why, it +was that very supernumerary fish, which we held of so little account, but +which had wedged itself into the rent of the yawning planks, and served +to keep out the water until the leak was finally stopped. + +I am very sure it was Captain Coram, but I almost hope it was somebody +else, in order to give some poor fellow who is lying in wait for the +periodicals a chance to correct me. That will make him happy for a +month, and besides, he will not want to pick a quarrel about anything +else if he has that splendid triumph. You remember Alcibiades and his +dog's tail. + +Here you have the extracts I spoke of from the manuscript placed in my +hands for revision and emendation. I can understand these alternations +of feeling in a young person who has been long absorbed in a single +pursuit, and in whom the human instincts which have been long silent are +now beginning to find expression. I know well what he wants; a great +deal better, I think, than he knows himself. + + WIND-CLOUDS AND STAR-DRIFTS. + + II + + Brief glimpses of the bright celestial spheres, + False lights, false shadows, vague, uncertain gleams, + Pale vaporous mists, wan streaks of lurid flame, + The climbing of the upward-sailing cloud, + The sinking of the downward-falling star, + All these are pictures of the changing moods + Borne through the midnight stillness of my soul. + + Here am I, bound upon this pillared rock, + Prey to the vulture of a vast desire + That feeds upon my life. I burst my bands + And steal a moment's freedom from the beak, + The clinging talons and the shadowing plumes; + Then comes the false enchantress, with her song; + "Thou wouldst not lay thy forehead in the dust + Like the base herd that feeds and breeds and dies! + Lo, the fair garlands that I weave for thee, + Unchanging as the belt Orion wears, + Bright as the jewels of the seven-starred Crown, + The spangled stream of Berenice's hair!" + And so she twines the fetters with the flowers + Around my yielding limbs, and the fierce bird + Stoops to his quarry,--then to feed his rage + Of ravening hunger I must drain my blood + And let the dew-drenched, poison-breeding night + Steal all the freshness from my fading cheek, + And leave its shadows round my caverned eyes. + All for a line in some unheeded scroll; + All for a stone that tells to gaping clowns, + "Here lies a restless wretch beneath a clod + Where squats the jealous nightmare men call Fame!" + + I marvel not at him who scorns his kind + And thinks not sadly of the time foretold + When the old hulk we tread shall be a wreck, + A slag, a cinder drifting through the sky + Without its crew of fools! We live too long + And even so are not content to die, + But load the mould that covers up our bones + With stones that stand like beggars by the road + And show death's grievous wound and ask for tears; + Write our great books to teach men who we are, + Sing our fine songs that tell in artful phrase + The secrets of our lives, and plead and pray + For alms of memory with the after time, + Those few swift seasons while the earth shall wear + Its leafy summers, ere its core grows cold + And the moist life of all that breathes shall die; + Or as the new-born seer, perchance more wise, + Would have us deem, before its growing mass, + Pelted with stardust, atoned with meteor-balls, + Heats like a hammered anvil, till at last Man + and his works and all that stirred itself + Of its own motion, in the fiery glow + Turns to a flaming vapor, and our orb + Shines a new sun for earths that shall be born. + + I am as old as Egypt to myself, + Brother to them that squared the pyramids + By the same stars I watch. I read the page + Where every letter is a glittering world, + With them who looked from Shinar's clay-built towers, + Ere yet the wanderer of the Midland sea + Had missed the fallen sister of the seven. + I dwell in spaces vague, remote, unknown, + Save to the silent few, who, leaving earth, + Quit all communion with their living time. + I lose myself in that ethereal void, + Till I have tired my wings and long to fill + My breast with denser air, to stand, to walk + With eyes not raised above my fellow-men. + Sick of my unwalled, solitary realm, + I ask to change the myriad lifeless worlds + I visit as mine own for one poor patch + Of this dull spheroid and a little breath + To shape in word or deed to serve my kind. + + Was ever giant's dungeon dug so deep, + Was ever tyrant's fetter forged so strong, + Was e'er such deadly poison in the draught + The false wife mingles for the trusting fool, + As he whose willing victim is himself, + Digs, forges, mingles, for his captive soul? + + + + +VII + +I was very sure that the old Master was hard at work about something,--he +is always very busy with something,--but I mean something particular. + +Whether it was a question of history or of cosmogony, or whether he was +handling a test-tube or a blow-pipe; what he was about I did not feel +sure; but I took it for granted that it was some crucial question or +other he was at work on, some point bearing on the thought of the time. +For the Master, I have observed, is pretty sagacious in striking for the +points where his work will be like to tell. We all know that class of +scientific laborers to whom all facts are alike nourishing mental food, +and who seem to exercise no choice whatever, provided only they can get +hold of these same indiscriminate facts in quantity sufficient. They +browse on them, as the animal to which they would not like to be compared +browses on his thistles. But the Master knows the movement of the age he +belongs to; and if he seems to be busy with what looks like a small piece +of trivial experimenting, one may feel pretty sure that he knows what he +is about, and that his minute operations are looking to a result that +will help him towards attaining his great end in life,--an insight, so +far as his faculties and opportunities will allow, into that order of +things which he believes he can study with some prospect of taking in its +significance. + +I became so anxious to know what particular matter he was busy with, that +I had to call upon him to satisfy my curiosity. It was with a little +trepidation that I knocked at his door. I felt a good deal as one might +have felt on disturbing an alchemist at his work, at the very moment, it +might be, when he was about to make projection. + +--Come in!--said the Master in his grave, massive tones. + +I passed through the library with him into a little room evidently +devoted to his experiments. + +--You have come just at the right moment,--he said.--Your eyes are better +than mine. I have been looking at this flask, and I should like to have +you look at it. + +It was a small matrass, as one of the elder chemists would have called +it, containing a fluid, and hermetically sealed. He held it up at the +window; perhaps you remember the physician holding a flask to the light +in Gerard Douw's "Femme hydropique"; I thought of that fine figure as I +looked at him. Look!--said he,--is it clear or cloudy? + +--You need not ask me that,--I answered. It is very plainly turbid. I +should think that some sediment had been shaken up in it. What is it, +Elixir Vitae or Aurum potabile? + +--Something that means more than alchemy ever did! Boiled just three +hours, and as clear as a bell until within the last few days; since then +has been clouding up. + +--I began to form a pretty shrewd guess at the meaning of all this, and +to think I knew very nearly what was coming next. I was right in my +conjecture. The Master broke off the sealed end of his little flask, +took out a small portion of the fluid on a glass rod, and placed it on a +slip of glass in the usual way for a microscopic examination. + +--One thousand diameters,--he said, as he placed it on the stage of the +microscope.---We shall find signs of life, of course.--He bent over the +instrument and looked but an instant. + +--There they are!--he exclaimed,--look in. + +I looked in and saw some objects: + +The straight linear bodies were darting backward and forward in every +direction. The wavy ones were wriggling about like eels or water-snakes. +The round ones were spinning on their axes and rolling in every +direction. All of them were in a state of incessant activity, as if +perpetually seeking something and never finding it. + +They are tough, the germs of these little bodies, said the Master. +---Three hours' boiling has n't killed 'em. Now, then, let us see what +has been the effect of six hours' boiling. + +He took up another flask just like the first, containing fluid and +hermetically sealed in the same way. + +--Boiled just three hours longer than the other, he said,--six hours in +all. This is the experimentum crucis. Do you see any cloudiness in it? + +--Not a sign of it; it is as clear as crystal, except that there may be a +little sediment at the bottom. + +--That is nothing. The liquid is clear. We shall find no signs of +life.---He put a minute drop of the liquid under the microscope as +before. Nothing stirred. Nothing to be seen but a clear circle of +light. We looked at it again and again, but with the same result. + +--Six hours kill 'em all, according to this experiment,--said the +Master.---Good as far as it goes. One more negative result. Do you know +what would have happened if that liquid had been clouded, and we had +found life in the sealed flask? Sir, if that liquid had held life in it +the Vatican would have trembled to hear it, and there would have been +anxious questionings and ominous whisperings in the halls of Lambeth +palace! The accepted cosmogonies on trial, sir! + +Traditions, sanctities, creeds, ecclesiastical establishments, all +shaking to know whether my little sixpenny flask of fluid looks muddy or +not! I don't know whether to laugh or shudder. The thought of an +oecumenical council having its leading feature dislocated by my trifling +experiment! The thought, again, of the mighty revolution in human +beliefs and affairs that might grow out of the same insignificant little +phenomenon. A wine-glassful of clear liquid growing muddy. If we had +found a wriggle, or a zigzag, or a shoot from one side to the other, in +this last flask, what a scare there would have been, to be sure, in the +schools of the prophets! Talk about your megatherium and your +megalosaurus,--what are these to the bacterium and the vibrio? These are +the dreadful monsters of today. If they show themselves where they have +no business, the little rascals frighten honest folks worse than ever +people were frightened by the Dragon of Rhodes! + +The Master gets going sometimes, there is no denying it, until his +imagination runs away with him. He had been trying, as the reader sees, +one of those curious experiments in spontaneous generation, as it is +called, which have been so often instituted of late years, and by none +more thoroughly than by that eminent American student of nature +(Professor Jeffries Wyman) whose process he had imitated with a result +like his. + +We got talking over these matters among us the next morning at the +breakfast-table. + +We must agree they couldn't stand six hours' boiling,--I said. + +--Good for the Pope of Rome!--exclaimed the Master. + +--The Landlady drew back with a certain expression of dismay in her +countenance. She hoped he did n't want the Pope to make any more +converts in this country. She had heard a sermon only last Sabbath, and +the minister had made it out, she thought, as plain as could be, that the +Pope was the Man of Sin and that the Church of Rome was--Well, there was +very strong names applied to her in Scripture. + +What was good for the Pope was good for your minister, too, my dear +madam,--said the Master. Good for everybody that is afraid of what +people call "science." If it should prove that dead things come to life +of themselves, it would be awkward, you know, because then somebody will +get up and say if one dead thing made itself alive another might, and so +perhaps the earth peopled itself without any help. Possibly the +difficulty wouldn't be so great as many people suppose. We might perhaps +find room for a Creator after all, as we do now, though we see a little +brown seed grow till it sucks up the juices of half an acre of ground, +apparently all by its own inherent power. That does not stagger us; I am +not sure that it would if Mr. Crosses or Mr. Weekes's acarus should show +himself all of a sudden, as they said he did, in certain mineral mixtures +acted on by electricity. + +The Landlady was off soundings, and looking vacant enough by this time. + +The Master turned to me.---Don't think too much of the result of our one +experiment. It means something, because it confirms those other +experiments of which it was a copy; but we must remember that a hundred +negatives don't settle such a question. Life does get into the world +somehow. You don't suppose Adam had the cutaneous unpleasantness +politely called psora, do you? + +--Hardly,--I answered.---He must have been a walking hospital if he +carried all the maladies about him which have plagued his descendants. + +--Well, then, how did the little beast which is peculiar to that special +complaint intrude himself into the Order of Things? You don't suppose +there was a special act of creation for the express purpose of bestowing +that little wretch on humanity, do you? + +I thought, on the whole, I would n't answer that question. + +--You and I are at work on the same problem, said the Young Astronomer to +the Master.---I have looked into a microscope now and then, and I have +seen that perpetual dancing about of minute atoms in a fluid, which you +call molecular motion. Just so, when I look through my telescope I see +the star-dust whirling about in the infinite expanse of ether; or if I do +not see its motion, I know that it is only on account of its immeasurable +distance. Matter and motion everywhere; void and rest nowhere. You ask +why your restless microscopic atoms may not come together and become +self-conscious and self-moving organisms. I ask why my telescopic +star-dust may not come together and grow and organize into habitable +worlds,--the ripened fruit on the branches of the tree Yggdrasil, if I +may borrow from our friend the Poet's province. It frightens people, +though, to hear the suggestion that worlds shape themselves from +star-mist. It does not trouble them at all to see the watery spheres +that round themselves into being out of the vapors floating over us; they +are nothing but raindrops. But if a planet can grow as a rain-drop +grows, why then--It was a great comfort to these timid folk when Lord +Rosse's telescope resolved certain nebula into star-clusters. Sir John +Herschel would have told them that this made little difference in +accounting for the formation of worlds by aggregation, but at any rate it +was a comfort to them. + +--These people have always been afraid of the astronomers,--said the +Master.--They were shy, you know, of the Copernican system, for a long +while; well they might be with an oubliette waiting for them if they +ventured to think that the earth moved round the sun. Science settled +that point finally for them, at length, and then it was all right,--when +there was no use in disputing the fact any longer. By and by geology +began turning up fossils that told extraordinary stories about the +duration of life upon our planet. What subterfuges were not used to get +rid of their evidence! Think of a man seeing the fossilized skeleton of +an animal split out of a quarry, his teeth worn down by mastication, and +the remains of food still visible in his interior, and, in order to get +rid of a piece of evidence contrary to the traditions he holds to, +seriously maintaining that this skeleton never belonged to a living +creature, but was created with just these appearances; a make-believe, a +sham, a Barnum's-mermaid contrivance to amuse its Creator and impose upon +his intelligent children! And now people talk about geological epochs +and hundreds of millions of years in the planet's history as calmly as if +they were discussing the age of their deceased great-grandmothers. Ten +or a dozen years ago people said Sh! Sh! if you ventured to meddle with +any question supposed to involve a doubt of the generally accepted Hebrew +traditions. To-day such questions are recognized as perfectly fair +subjects for general conversation; not in the basement story, perhaps, or +among the rank and file of the curbstone congregations, but among +intelligent and educated persons. You may preach about them in your +pulpit, you may lecture about them, you may talk about them with the +first sensible-looking person you happen to meet, you may write magazine +articles about them, and the editor need not expect to receive +remonstrances from angry subscribers and withdrawals of subscriptions, as +he would have been sure to not a great many years ago. Why, you may go +to a tea-party where the clergyman's wife shows her best cap and his +daughters display their shining ringlets, and you will hear the company +discussing the Darwinian theory of the origin of the human race as if it +were as harmless a question as that of the lineage of a spinster's +lapdog. You may see a fine lady who is as particular in her +genuflections as any Buddhist or Mahometan saint in his manifestations of +reverence, who will talk over the anthropoid ape, the supposed founder of +the family to which we belong, and even go back with you to the +acephalous mollusk, first cousin to the clams and mussels, whose +rudimental spine was the hinted prophecy of humanity; all this time never +dreaming, apparently, that what she takes for a matter of curious +speculation involves the whole future of human progress and destiny. + +I can't help thinking that if we had talked as freely as we can and do +now in the days of the first boarder at this table,--I mean the one who +introduced it to the public,--it would have sounded a good deal more +aggressively than it does now.--The old Master got rather warm in +talking; perhaps the consciousness of having a number of listeners had +something to do with it. + +--This whole business is an open question,--he said,--and there is no use +in saying, "Hush! don't talk about such things!" People do talk about +'em everywhere; and if they don't talk about 'em they think about 'em, +and that is worse,--if there is anything bad about such questions, that +is. If for the Fall of man, science comes to substitute the RISE of man, +sir, it means the utter disintegration of all the spiritual pessimisms +which have been like a spasm in the heart and a cramp in the intellect of +men for so many centuries. And yet who dares to say that it is not a +perfectly legitimate and proper question to be discussed, without the +slightest regard to the fears or the threats of Pope or prelate? + +Sir, I believe,--the Master rose from his chair as he spoke, and said in +a deep and solemn tone, but without any declamatory vehemence,--sir, I +believe that we are at this moment in what will be recognized not many +centuries hence as one of the late watches in the night of the dark ages. +There is a twilight ray, beyond question. We know something of the +universe, a very little, and, strangely enough, we know most of what is +farthest from us. We have weighed the planets and analyzed the flames of +the--sun and stars. We predict their movements as if they were machines +we ourselves had made and regulated. We know a good deal about the earth +on which we live. But the study of man has been so completely subjected +to our preconceived opinions, that we have got to begin all over again. +We have studied anthropology through theology; we have now to begin the +study of theology through anthropology. Until we have exhausted the +human element in every form of belief, and that can only be done by what +we may call comparative spiritual anatomy, we cannot begin to deal with +the alleged extra-human elements without blundering into all imaginable +puerilities. If you think for one moment that there is not a single +religion in the world which does not come to us through the medium of a +preexisting language; and if you remember that this language embodies +absolutely nothing but human conceptions and human passions, you will see +at once that every religion presupposes its own elements as already +existing in those to whom it is addressed. I once went to a church in +London and heard the famous Edward Irving preach, and heard some of his +congregation speak in the strange words characteristic of their +miraculous gift of tongues. I had a respect for the logical basis of +this singular phenomenon. I have always thought it was natural that any +celestial message should demand a language of its own, only to be +understood by divine illumination. All human words tend, of course, to +stop short in human meaning. And the more I hear the most sacred terms +employed, the more I am satisfied that they have entirely and radically +different meanings in the minds of those who use them. Yet they deal +with them as if they were as definite as mathematical quantities or +geometrical figures. What would become of arithmetic if the figure 2 +meant three for one man and five for another and twenty for a third, and +all the other numerals were in the same way variable quantities? Mighty +intelligent correspondence business men would have with each other! But +how is this any worse than the difference of opinion which led a famous +clergyman to say to a brother theologian, "Oh, I see, my dear sir, your +God is my Devil." + +Man has been studied proudly, contemptuously, rather, from the point of +view supposed to be authoritatively settled. The self-sufficiency of +egotistic natures was never more fully shown than in the expositions of +the worthlessness and wretchedness of their fellow-creatures given by the +dogmatists who have "gone back," as the vulgar phrase is, on their race, +their own flesh and blood. Did you ever read what Mr. Bancroft says +about Calvin in his article on Jonathan Edwards?--and mighty well said it +is too, in my judgment. Let me remind you of it, whether you have read +it or not. "Setting himself up over against the privileged classes, he, +with a loftier pride than theirs, revealed the power of a yet higher +order of nobility, not of a registered ancestry of fifteen generations, +but one absolutely spotless in its escutcheon, preordained in the council +chamber of eternity." I think you'll find I have got that sentence +right, word for word, and there 's a great deal more in it than many good +folks who call themselves after the reformer seem to be aware of. The +Pope put his foot on the neck of kings, but Calvin and his cohort crushed +the whole human race under their heels in the name of the Lord of Hosts. +Now, you see, the point that people don't understand is the absolute and +utter humility of science, in opposition to this doctrinal +self-sufficiency. I don't doubt this may sound a little paradoxical at +first, but I think you will find it is all right. You remember the +courtier and the monarch,--Louis the Fourteenth, wasn't it?--never mind, +give the poor fellows that live by setting you right a chance. "What +o'clock is it?" says the king. "Just whatever o'clock your Majesty +pleases," says the courtier. I venture to say the monarch was a great +deal more humble than the follower, who pretended that his master was +superior to such trifling facts as the revolution of the planet. It was +the same thing, you remember, with King Canute and the tide on the +sea-shore. The king accepted the scientific fact of the tide's rising. +The loyal hangers-on, who believed in divine right, were too proud of the +company they found themselves in to make any such humiliating admission. +But there are people, and plenty of them, to-day, who will dispute facts +just as clear to those who have taken the pains to learn what is known +about them, as that of the tide's rising. They don't like to admit these +facts, because they throw doubt upon some of their cherished opinions. +We are getting on towards the last part of this nineteenth century. What +we have gained is not so much in positive knowledge, though that is a +good deal, as it is in the freedom of discussion of every subject that +comes within the range of observation and inference. How long is it +since Mrs. Piozzi wrote,--"Let me hope that you will not pursue geology +till it leads you into doubts destructive of all comfort in this world +and all happiness in the next"? + +The Master paused and I remained silent, for I was thinking things I +could not say. + +--It is well always to have a woman near by when one is talking on this +class of subjects. Whether there will be three or four women to one man +in heaven is a question which I must leave to those who talk as if they +knew all about the future condition of the race to answer. But very +certainly there is much more of hearty faith, much more of spiritual +life, among women than among men, in this world. They need faith to +support them more than men do, for they have a great deal less to call +them out of themselves, and it comes easier to them, for their habitual +state of dependence teaches them to trust in others. When they become +voters, if they ever do, it may be feared that the pews will lose what +the ward-rooms gain. Relax a woman's hold on man, and her knee-joints +will soon begin to stiffen. Self-assertion brings out many fine +qualities, but it does not promote devotional habits. + +I remember some such thoughts as this were passing through my mind while +the Master was talking. I noticed that the Lady was listening to the +conversation with a look of more than usual interest. We men have the +talk mostly to ourselves at this table; the Master, as you have found +out, is fond of monologues, and I myself--well, I suppose I must own to a +certain love for the reverberated music of my own accents; at any rate, +the Master and I do most of the talking. But others help us do the +listening. I think I can show that they listen to some purpose. I am +going to surprise my reader with a letter which I received very shortly +after the conversation took place which I have just reported. It is of +course by a special license, such as belongs to the supreme prerogative +of an author, that I am enabled to present it to him. He need ask no +questions: it is not his affair how I obtained the right to give +publicity to a private communication. I have become somewhat more +intimately acquainted with the writer of it than in the earlier period of +my connection with this establishment, and I think I may say have gained +her confidence to a very considerable degree. + +MY DEAR SIR: The conversations I have had with you, limited as they have +been, have convinced me that I am quite safe in addressing you with +freedom on a subject which interests me, and others more than myself. We +at our end of the table have been listening, more or less intelligently, +to the discussions going on between two or three of you gentlemen on +matters of solemn import to us all. This is nothing very new to me. I +have been used, from an early period of my life, to hear the discussion +of grave questions, both in politics and religion. I have seen gentlemen +at my father's table get as warm over a theological point of dispute as +in talking over their political differences. I rather think it has +always been very much so, in bad as well as in good company; for you +remember how Milton's fallen angels amused themselves with disputing on +"providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate," and it was the same thing in +that club Goldsmith writes so pleasantly about. Indeed, why should not +people very often come, in the course of conversation, to the one subject +which lies beneath all else about which our thoughts are occupied? And +what more natural than that one should be inquiring about what another +has accepted and ceased to have any doubts concerning? It seems to me +all right that at the proper time, in the proper place, those who are +less easily convinced than their neighbors should have the fullest +liberty of calling to account all the opinions which others receive +without question. Somebody must stand sentry at the outposts of belief, +and it is a sentry's business, I believe, to challenge every one who +comes near him, friend or foe. + +I want you to understand fully that I am not one of those poor nervous +creatures who are frightened out of their wits when any question is +started that implies the disturbance of their old beliefs. I manage to +see some of the periodicals, and now and then dip a little way into a new +book which deals with these curious questions you were talking about, and +others like them. You know they find their way almost everywhere. They +do not worry me in the least. When I was a little girl, they used to say +that if you put a horsehair into a tub of water it would turn into a +snake in the course of a few days. That did not seem to me so very much +stranger than it was that an egg should turn into a chicken. What can I +say to that? Only that it is the Lord's doings, and marvellous in my +eyes; and if our philosophical friend should find some little live +creatures, or what seem to be live creatures, in any of his messes, I +should say as much, and no more. You do not think I would shut up my +Bible and Prayer-Book because there is one more thing I do not understand +in a world where I understand so very little of all the wonders that +surround me? + +It may be very wrong to pay any attention to those speculations about the +origin of mankind which seem to conflict with the Sacred Record. But +perhaps there is some way of reconciling them, as there is of making the +seven days of creation harmonize with modern geology. At least, these +speculations are curious enough in themselves; and I have seen so many +good and handsome children come of parents who were anything but virtuous +and comely, that I can believe in almost any amount of improvement taking +place in a tribe of living beings, if time and opportunity favor it. I +have read in books of natural history that dogs came originally from +wolves. When I remember my little Flora, who, as I used to think, could +do everything but talk, it does not seem to me that she was much nearer +her savage ancestors than some of the horrid cannibal wretches are to +their neighbors the great apes. + +You see that I am tolerably liberal in my habit of looking at all these +questions. We women drift along with the current of the times, +listening, in our quiet way, to the discussions going on round us in +books and in conversation, and shift the phrases in which we think and +talk with something of the same ease as that with which we change our +style of dress from year to year. I doubt if you of the other sex know +what an effect this habit of accommodating our tastes to changing +standards has upon us. Nothing is fixed in them, as you know; the very +law of fashion is change. I suspect we learn from our dressmakers to +shift the costume of our minds, and slip on the new fashions of thinking +all the more easily because we have been accustomed to new styles of +dressing every season. + +It frightens me to see how much I have written without having yet said a +word of what I began this letter on purpose to say. I have taken so much +space in "defining my position," to borrow the politicians' phrase, that +I begin to fear you will be out of patience before you come to the part +of my letter I care most about your reading. + +What I want to say is this. When these matters are talked about before +persons of different ages and various shades of intelligence, I think one +ought to be very careful that his use of language does not injure the +sensibilities, perhaps blunt the reverential feelings, of those who are +listening to him. You of the sterner sex say that we women have +intuitions, but not logic, as our birthright. I shall not commit my sex +by conceding this to be true as a whole, but I will accept the first half +of it, and I will go so far as to say that we do not always care to +follow out a train of thought until it ends in a blind cul de sac, as +some of what are called the logical people are fond of doing. + +Now I want to remind you that religion is not a matter of intellectual +luxury to those of us who are interested in it, but something very +different. It is our life, and more than our life; for that is measured +by pulse-beats, but our religious consciousness partakes of the Infinite, +towards which it is constantly yearning. It is very possible that a +hundred or five hundred years from now the forms of religious belief may +be so altered that we should hardly know them. But the sense of +dependence on Divine influence and the need of communion with the unseen +and eternal will be then just what they are now. It is not the +geologist's hammer, or the astronomer's telescope, or the naturalist's +microscope, that is going to take away the need of the human soul for +that Rock to rest upon which is higher than itself, that Star which never +sets, that all-pervading Presence which gives life to all the least +moving atoms of the immeasurable universe. + +I have no fears for myself, and listen very quietly to all your debates. +I go from your philosophical discussions to the reading of Jeremy +Taylor's "Rule and Exercises of Holy Dying" without feeling that I have +unfitted myself in the least degree for its solemn reflections. And, as +I have mentioned his name, I cannot help saying that I do not believe +that good man himself would have ever shown the bitterness to those who +seem to be at variance with the received doctrines which one may see in +some of the newspapers that call themselves "religious." I have kept a +few old books from my honored father's library, and among them is another +of his which I always thought had more true Christianity in its title +than there is in a good many whole volumes. I am going to take the book +down, or up,--for it is not a little one,--and write out the title, +which, I dare say, you remember, and very likely you have the book. +"Discourse of the Liberty of Prophesying, showing the Unreasonableness of +prescribing to other Men's Faith, and the Iniquity of persecuting +Different Opinions." + +Now, my dear sir, I am sure you believe that I want to be liberal and +reasonable, and not to act like those weak alarmists who, whenever the +silly sheep begin to skip as if something was after them, and huddle +together in their fright, are sure there must be a bear or a lion coming +to eat them up. But for all that, I want to beg you to handle some of +these points, which are so involved in the creed of a good many +well-intentioned persons that you cannot separate them from it without +picking their whole belief to pieces, with more thought for them than you +might think at first they were entitled to. I have no doubt you +gentlemen are as wise as serpents, and I want you to be as harmless as +doves. + +The Young Girl who sits by me has, I know, strong religious instincts. +Instead of setting her out to ask all sorts of questions, I would rather, +if I had my way, encourage her to form a habit of attending to religious +duties, and make the most of the simple faith in which she was bred. I +think there are a good many questions young persons may safely postpone +to a more convenient season; and as this young creature is overworked, I +hate to have her excited by the fever of doubt which it cannot be denied +is largely prevailing in our time. + +I know you must have looked on our other young friend, who has devoted +himself to the sublimest of the sciences, with as much interest as I do. +When I was a little girl I used to write out a line of Young's as a copy +in my writing-book, + + "An undevout astronomer is mad"; + +but I do not now feel quite so sure that the contemplation of all the +multitude of remote worlds does not tend to weaken the idea of a personal +Deity. It is not so much that nebular theory which worries me, when I +think about this subject, as a kind of bewilderment when I try to +conceive of a consciousness filling all those frightful blanks of space +they talk about. I sometimes doubt whether that young man worships +anything but the stars. They tell me that many young students of science +like him never see the inside of a church. I cannot help wishing they +did. It humanizes people, quite apart from any higher influence it +exerts upon them. One reason, perhaps, why they do not care to go to +places of worship is that they are liable to hear the questions they know +something about handled in sermons by those who know very much less about +them. And so they lose a great deal. Almost every human being, however +vague his notions of the Power addressed, is capable of being lifted and +solemnized by the exercise of public prayer. When I was a young girl we +travelled in Europe, and I visited Ferney with my parents; and I remember +we all stopped before a chapel, and I read upon its front, I knew Latin +enough to understand it, I am pleased to say,--Deo erexit Voltaire. I +never forgot it; and knowing what a sad scoffer he was at most sacred +things, I could not but be impressed with the fact that even he was not +satisfied with himself, until he had shown his devotion in a public and +lasting form. + +We all want religion sooner or later. I am afraid there are some who +have no natural turn for it, as there are persons without an ear for +music, to which, if I remember right, I heard one of you comparing what +you called religious genius. But sorrow and misery bring even these to +know what it means, in a great many instances. May I not say to you, my +friend, that I am one who has learned the secret of the inner life by the +discipline of trials in the life of outward circumstance? I can remember +the time when I thought more about the shade of color in a ribbon, +whether it matched my complexion or not, than I did about my spiritual +interests in this world or the next. It was needful that I should learn +the meaning of that text, "Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth." + +Since I have been taught in the school of trial I have felt, as I never +could before, how precious an inheritance is the smallest patrimony of +faith. When everything seemed gone from me, I found I had still one +possession. The bruised reed that I had never leaned on became my staff. +The smoking flax which had been a worry to my eyes burst into flame, and +I lighted the taper at it which has since guided all my footsteps. And I +am but one of the thousands who have had the same experience. They have +been through the depths of affliction, and know the needs of the human +soul. It will find its God in the unseen,--Father, Saviour, Divine +Spirit, Virgin Mother, it must and will breathe its longings and its +griefs into the heart of a Being capable of understanding all its +necessities and sympathizing with all its woes. + +I am jealous, yes, I own I am jealous of any word, spoken or written, +that would tend to impair that birthright of reverence which becomes for +so many in after years the basis of a deeper religious sentiment. And +yet, as I have said, I cannot and will not shut my eyes to the problems +which may seriously affect our modes of conceiving the eternal truths on +which, and by which, our souls must live. What a fearful time is this +into which we poor sensitive and timid creatures are born! I suppose the +life of every century has more or less special resemblance to that of +some particular Apostle. I cannot help thinking this century has Thomas +for its model. How do you suppose the other Apostles felt when that +experimental philosopher explored the wounds of the Being who to them was +divine with his inquisitive forefinger? In our time that finger has +multiplied itself into ten thousand thousand implements of research, +challenging all mysteries, weighing the world as in a balance, and +sifting through its prisms and spectroscopes the light that comes from +the throne of the Eternal. + +Pity us, dear Lord, pity us! The peace in believing which belonged to +other ages is not for us. Again Thy wounds are opened that we may know +whether it is the blood of one like ourselves which flows from them, or +whether it is a Divinity that is bleeding for His creatures. Wilt Thou +not take the doubt of Thy children whom the time commands to try all +things in the place of the unquestioning faith of earlier and +simpler-hearted generations? We too have need of Thee. Thy martyrs in +other ages were cast into the flames, but no fire could touch their +immortal and indestructible faith. We sit in safety and in peace, so far +as these poor bodies are concerned; but our cherished beliefs, the hopes, +the trust that stayed the hearts of those we loved who have gone before +us, are cast into the fiery furnace of an age which is fast turning to +dross the certainties and the sanctities once prized as our most precious +inheritance. You will understand me, my dear sir, and all my solicitudes +and apprehensions. Had I never been assailed by the questions that meet +all thinking persons in our time, I might not have thought so anxiously +about the risk of perplexing others. I know as well as you must that +there are many articles of belief clinging to the skirts of our time +which are the bequests of the ages of ignorance that God winked at. But +for all that I would train a child in the nurture and admonition of the +Lord, according to the simplest and best creed I could disentangle from +those barbarisms, and I would in every way try to keep up in young +persons that standard of reverence for all sacred subjects which may, +without any violent transition, grow and ripen into the devotion of later +years. Believe me, + +Very sincerely yours, + +I have thought a good deal about this letter and the writer of it lately. +She seemed at first removed to a distance from all of us, but here I find +myself in somewhat near relations with her. What has surprised me more +than that, however, is to find that she is becoming so much acquainted +with the Register of Deeds. Of all persons in the world, I should least +have thought of him as like to be interested in her, and still less, if +possible, of her fancying him. I can only say they have been in pretty +close conversation several times of late, and, if I dared to think it of +so very calm and dignified a personage, I should say that her color was a +little heightened after one or more of these interviews. No! that would +be too absurd! But I begin to think nothing is absurd in the matter of +the relations of the two sexes; and if this high-bred woman fancies the +attentions of a piece of human machinery like this elderly individual, it +is none of my business. + +I have been at work on some more of the Young Astronomer's lines. I find +less occasion for meddling with them as he grows more used to +versification. I think I could analyze the processes going on in his +mind, and the conflict of instincts which he cannot in the nature of +things understand. But it is as well to give the reader a chance to find +out for himself what is going on in the young man's heart and intellect. + + WIND-CLOUDS AND STAR-DRIFTS. + + III + + The snows that glittered on the disk of Mars + Have melted, and the planet's fiery orb + Rolls in the crimson summer of its year; + But what to me the summer or the snow + Of worlds that throb with life in forms unknown, + If life indeed be theirs; I heed not these. + My heart is simply human; all my care + For them whose dust is fashioned like mine own; + These ache with cold and hunger, live in pain, + And shake with fear of worlds more full of woe; + There may be others worthier of my love, + But such I know not save through these I know. + + There are two veils of language, hid beneath + Whose sheltering folds, we dare to be ourselves; + And not that other self which nods and smiles + And babbles in our name; the one is Prayer, + Lending its licensed freedom to the tongue + That tells our sorrows and our sins to Heaven; + The other, Verse, that throws its spangled web + Around our naked speech and makes it bold. + I, whose best prayer is silence; sitting dumb + In the great temple where I nightly serve + Him who is throned in light, have dared to claim + The poet's franchise, though I may not hope + To wear his garland; hear me while I tell + My story in such form as poets use, + But breathed in fitful whispers, as the wind + Sighs and then slumbers, wakes and sighs again. + + Thou Vision, floating in the breathless air + Between me and the fairest of the stars, + I tell my lonely thoughts as unto thee. + Look not for marvels of the scholar's pen + In my rude measure; I can only show + A slender-margined, unillumined page, + And trust its meaning to the flattering eye + That reads it in the gracious light of love. + Ah, wouldst thou clothe thyself in breathing shape + And nestle at my side, my voice should lend + Whate'er my verse may lack of tender rhythm + To make thee listen. + + I have stood entranced + When, with her fingers wandering o'er the keys, + The white enchantress with the golden hair + Breathed all her soul through some unvalued rhyme; + Some flower of song that long had lost its bloom; + Lo! its dead summer kindled as she sang! + The sweet contralto, like the ringdove's coo, + Thrilled it with brooding, fond, caressing tones, + And the pale minstrel's passion lived again, + Tearful and trembling as a dewy rose + The wind has shaken till it fills the air + With light and fragrance. Such the wondrous charm + A song can borrow when the bosom throbs + That lends it breath. + + So from the poet's lips + His verse sounds doubly sweet, for none like him + Feels every cadence of its wave-like flow; + He lives the passion over, while he reads, + That shook him as he sang his lofty strain, + And pours his life through each resounding line, + As ocean, when the stormy winds are hushed, + Still rolls and thunders through his billowy caves. + + Let me retrace the record of the years + That made me what I am. A man most wise, + But overworn with toil and bent with age, + Sought me to be his scholar,--me, run wild + From books and teachers,--kindled in my soul + The love of knowledge; led me to his tower, + Showed me the wonders of the midnight realm + His hollow sceptre ruled, or seemed to rule, + Taught me the mighty secrets of the spheres, + Trained me to find the glimmering specks of light + Beyond the unaided sense, and on my chart + To string them one by one, in order due, + As on a rosary a saint his beads. + + I was his only scholar; I became + The echo to his thought; whate'er he knew + Was mine for asking; so from year to year + We wrought together, till there came a time + When I, the learner, was the master half + Of the twinned being in the dome-crowned tower. + + Minds roll in paths like planets; they revolve + This in a larger, that a narrower ring, + But round they come at last to that same phase, + That self-same light and shade they showed before. + I learned his annual and his monthly tale, + His weekly axiom and his daily phrase, + I felt them coming in the laden air, + And watched them laboring up to vocal breath, + Even as the first-born at his father's board + Knows ere he speaks the too familiar jest + Is on its way, by some mysterious sign + Forewarned, the click before the striking bell. + + He shrivelled as I spread my growing leaves, + Till trust and reverence changed to pitying care; + He lived for me in what he once had been, + But I for him, a shadow, a defence, + The guardian of his fame, his guide, his staff, + Leaned on so long he fell if left alone. + I was his eye, his ear, his cunning hand, + Love was my spur and longing after fame, + But his the goading thorn of sleepless age + That sees its shortening span, its lengthening shades, + That clutches what it may with eager grasp, + And drops at last with empty, outstretched hands. + + All this he dreamed not. He would sit him down + Thinking to work his problems as of old, + And find the star he thought so plain a blur, + The columned figures labyrinthine wilds + Without my comment, blind and senseless scrawls + That vexed him with their riddles; he would strive + And struggle for a while, and then his eye + Would lose its light, and over all his mind + The cold gray mist would settle; and erelong + The darkness fell, and I was left alone. + + Alone! no climber of an Alpine cliff, + No Arctic venturer on the waveless sea, + Feels the dread stillness round him as it chills + The heart of him who leaves the slumbering earth + To watch the silent worlds that crowd the sky. + + Alone! And as the shepherd leaves his flock + To feed upon the hillside, he meanwhile + Finds converse in the warblings of the pipe + Himself has fashioned for his vacant hour, + So have I grown companion to myself, + And to the wandering spirits of the air + That smile and whisper round us in our dreams. + Thus have I learned to search if I may know + The whence and why of all beneath the stars + And all beyond them, and to weigh my life + As in a balance, poising good and ill + Against each other,-asking of the Power + That flung me forth among the whirling worlds, + If I am heir to any inborn right, + Or only as an atom of the dust + That every wind may blow where'er it will. + + I am not humble; I was shown my place, + Clad in such robes as Nature had at hand; + Took what she gave, not chose; I know no shame, + No fear for being simply what I am. + I am not proud, I hold my every breath + At Nature's mercy. I am as a babe + Borne in a giant's arms, he knows not where; + Each several heart-beat, counted like the coin + A miser reckons, is a special gift + As from an unseen hand; if that withhold + Its bounty for a moment, I am left + A clod upon the earth to which I fall. + + Something I find in me that well might claim + The love of beings in a sphere above + This doubtful twilight world of right and wrong; + Something that shows me of the self-same clay + That creeps or swims or flies in humblest form. + Had I been asked, before I left my bed + Of shapeless dust, what clothing I would wear, + I would have said, More angel and less worm; + But for their sake who are even such as I, + Of the same mingled blood, I would not choose + To hate that meaner portion of myself + Which makes me brother to the least of men. + + I dare not be a coward with my lips + Who dare to question all things in my soul; + Some men may find their wisdom on their knees, + Some prone and grovelling in the dust like slaves; + Let the meek glow-worm glisten in the dew; + I ask to lift my taper to the sky + As they who hold their lamps above their heads, + Trusting the larger currents up aloft, + Rather than crossing eddies round their breast, + Threatening with every puff the flickering blaze. + + My life shall be a challenge, not a truce! + This is my homage to the mightier powers, + To ask my boldest question, undismayed + By muttered threats that some hysteric sense + Of wrong or insult will convulse the throne + Where wisdom reigns supreme; and if I err, + They all must err who have to feel their way + As bats that fly at noon; for what are we + But creatures of the night, dragged forth by day, + Who needs must stumble, and with stammering steps + Spell out their paths in syllables of pain? + + Thou wilt not hold in scorn the child who dares + Look up to Thee, the Father,--dares to ask + More than Thy wisdom answers. From Thy hand + The worlds were cast; yet every leaflet claims + From that same hand its little shining sphere + Of star-lit dew; thine image, the great sun, + Girt with his mantle of tempestuous flame, + + Glares in mid-heaven; but to his noontide blaze + The slender violet lifts its lidless eye, + And from his splendor steals its fairest hue, + Its sweetest perfume from his scorching fire. + +I may just as well stop here as anywhere, for there is more of the +manuscript to come, and I can only give it in instalments. + +The Young Astronomer had told me I might read any portions of his +manuscript I saw fit to certain friends. I tried this last extract on +the old Master. + +It's the same story we all have to tell,--said he, when I had done +reading.---We are all asking questions nowadays. I should like to hear +him read some of his verses himself, and I think some of the other +boarders would like to. I wonder if he wouldn't do it, if we asked him! +Poets read their own compositions in a singsong sort of way; but they do +seem to love 'em so, that I always enjoy it. It makes me laugh a little +inwardly to see how they dandle their poetical babies, but I don't let +them know it. We must get up a select party of the boarders to hear him +read. We'll send him a regular invitation. I will put my name at the +head of it, and you shall write it. + +--That was neatly done. How I hate writing such things! But I suppose I +must do it. + + + + +VIII + +The Master and I had been thinking for some time of trying to get the +Young Astronomer round to our side of the table. There are many subjects +on which both of us like to talk with him, and it would be convenient to +have him nearer to us. How to manage it was not quite so clear as it +might have been. The Scarabee wanted to sit with his back to the light, +as it was in his present position. He used his eyes so much in studying +minute objects, that he wished to spare them all fatigue, and did not +like facing a window. Neither of us cared to ask the Man of Letters, so +called, to change his place, and of course we could not think of making +such a request of the Young Girl or the Lady. So we were at a stand with +reference to this project of ours. + +But while we were proposing, Fate or Providence disposed everything for +us. The Man of Letters, so called, was missing one morning, having +folded his tent--that is, packed his carpet-bag--with the silence of the +Arabs, and encamped--that is, taken lodgings--in some locality which he +had forgotten to indicate. + +The Landlady bore this sudden bereavement remarkably well. Her remarks +and reflections; though borrowing the aid of homely imagery and doing +occasional violence to the nicer usages of speech, were not without +philosophical discrimination. + +--I like a gentleman that is a gentleman. But there's a difference in +what folks call gentlemen as there is in what you put on table. There is +cabbages and there is cauliflowers. There is clams and there is oysters. +There is mackerel and there is salmon. And there is some that knows the +difference and some that doos n't. I had a little account with that +boarder that he forgot to settle before he went off, so all of a suddin. +I sha'n't say anything about it. I've seen the time when I should have +felt bad about losing what he owed me, but it was no great matter; and if +he 'll only stay away now he 's gone, I can stand losing it, and not cry +my eyes out nor lay awake all night neither. I never had ought to have +took him. Where he come from and where he's gone to is unbeknown to me. +If he'd only smoked good tobacco, I wouldn't have said a word; but it was +such dreadful stuff, it 'll take a week to get his chamber sweet enough +to show them that asks for rooms. It doos smell like all possest. + +--Left any goods?--asked the Salesman. + +--Or dockermunts?--added the Member of the Haouse. + +The Landlady answered with a faded smile, which implied that there was no +hope in that direction. Dr. Benjamin, with a sudden recurrence of +youthful feeling, made a fan with the fingers of his right hand, the +second phalanx of the thumb resting on the tip of the nose, and the +remaining digits diverging from each other, in the plane of the median +line of the face,--I suppose this is the way he would have described the +gesture, which is almost a specialty of the Parisian gamin. That Boy +immediately copied it, and added greatly to its effect by extending the +fingers of the other hand in a line with those of the first, and +vigorously agitating those of the two hands,--a gesture which acts like +a puncture on the distended self-esteem of one to whom it is addressed, +and cheapens the memory of the absent to a very low figure. + +I wish the reader to observe that I treasure up with interest all the +words uttered by the Salesman. It must have been noticed that he very +rarely speaks. Perhaps he has an inner life, with its own deep +emotional, and lofty contemplative elements, but as we see him, he is the +boarder reduced to the simplest expression of that term. Yet, like most +human creatures, he has generic and specific characters not unworthy of +being studied. I notice particularly a certain electrical briskness of +movement, such as one may see in a squirrel, which clearly belongs to his +calling. The dry-goodsman's life behind his counter is a succession of +sudden, snappy perceptions and brief series of coordinate spasms; as +thus: + +"Purple calico, three quarters wide, six yards." + +Up goes the arm; bang! tumbles out the flat roll and turns half a dozen +somersets, as if for the fun of the thing; the six yards of calico hurry +over the measuring nails, hunching their backs up, like six cankerworms; +out jump the scissors; snip, clip, rip; the stuff is wisped up, +brown--papered, tied, labelled, delivered, and the man is himself again, +like a child just come out of a convulsion-fit. Think of a man's having +some hundreds of these semi-epileptic seizures every day, and you need +not wonder that he does not say much; these fits take the talk all out of +him. + +But because he, or any other man, does not say much, it does not follow +that he may not have, as I have said, an exalted and intense inner life. +I have known a number of cases where a man who seemed thoroughly +commonplace and unemotional has all at once surprised everybody by +telling the story of his hidden life far more pointedly and dramatically +than any playwright or novelist or poet could have told it for him. I +will not insult your intelligence, Beloved, by saying how he has told it. + +--We had been talking over the subjects touched upon in the Lady's +letter. + +--I suppose one man in a dozen--said the Master--ought to be born a +skeptic. That was the proportion among the Apostles, at any rate. + +--So there was one Judas among them,--I remarked. + +--Well,--said the Master,--they 've been whitewashing Judas of late. But +never mind him. I did not say there was not one rogue on the average +among a dozen men. I don't see how that would interfere with my +proposition. If I say that among a dozen men you ought to find one that +weighs over a hundred and fifty pounds, and you tell me that there were +twelve men in your club, and one of 'em had red hair, I don't see that +you have materially damaged my statement. + +--I thought it best to let the old Master have his easy victory, which +was more apparent than real, very evidently, and he went on. + +--When the Lord sends out a batch of human beings, say a hundred--Did you +ever read my book, the new edition of it, I mean? + +It is rather awkward to answer such a question in the negative, but I +said, with the best grace I could, "No, not the last edition." + +--Well, I must give you a copy of it. My book and I are pretty much the +same thing. Sometimes I steal from my book in my talk without mentioning +it, and then I say to myself, "Oh, that won't do; everybody has read my +book and knows it by heart." And then the other I says,--you know there +are two of us, right and left, like a pair of shoes,--the other I says, +"You're a--something or other--fool. They have n't read your confounded +old book; besides, if they have, they have forgotten all about it." +Another time, I say, thinking I will be very honest, "I have said +something about that in my book"; and then the other I says, "What a +Balaam's quadruped you are to tell 'em it's in your book; they don't care +whether it is or not, if it's anything worth saying; and if it isn't +worth saying, what are you braying for?" That is a rather sensible +fellow, that other chap we talk with, but an impudent whelp. I never got +such abuse from any blackguard in my life as I have from that No. 2 of +me, the one that answers the other's questions and makes the comments, +and does what in demotic phrase is called the "sarsing." + +--I laughed at that. I have just such a fellow always with me, as wise +as Solomon, if I would only heed him; but as insolent as Shimei, cursing, +and throwing stones and dirt, and behaving as if he had the traditions of +the "ape-like human being" born with him rather than civilized instincts. +One does not have to be a king to know what it is to keep a king's +jester. + +--I mentioned my book,--the Master said, because I have something in it +on the subject we were talking about. I should like to read you a +passage here and there out of it, where I have expressed myself a little +more freely on some of those matters we handle in conversation. If you +don't quarrel with it, I must give you a copy of the book. It's a rather +serious thing to get a copy of a book from the writer of it. It has made +my adjectives sweat pretty hard, I know, to put together an answer +returning thanks and not lying beyond the twilight of veracity, if one +may use a figure. Let me try a little of my book on you, in divided +doses, as my friends the doctors say. + +-Fiat experimentum in corpore vili,--I said, laughing at my own expense. +I don't doubt the medicament is quite as good as the patient deserves, +and probably a great deal better,--I added, reinforcing my feeble +compliment. + +[When you pay a compliment to an author, don't qualify it in the next +sentence so as to take all the goodness out of it. Now I am thinking of +it, I will give you one or two pieces of advice. Be careful to assure +yourself that the person you are talking with wrote the article or book +you praise. It is not very pleasant to be told, "Well, there, now! I +always liked your writings, but you never did anything half so good as +this last piece," and then to have to tell the blunderer that this last +piece is n't yours, but t' other man's. Take care that the phrase or +sentence you commend is not one that is in quotation-marks. "The best +thing in your piece, I think, is a line I do not remember meeting before; +it struck me as very true and well expressed: + +"'An honest man's the noblest work of God.' + +"But, my dear lady, that line is one which is to be found in a writer of +the last century, and not original with me." One ought not to have +undeceived her, perhaps, but one is naturally honest, and cannot bear to +be credited with what is not his own. The lady blushes, of course, and +says she has not read much ancient literature, or some such thing. The +pearl upon the Ethiop's arm is very pretty in verse, but one does not +care to furnish the dark background for other persons' jewelry.] + +I adjourned from the table in company with the old Master to his +apartments. He was evidently in easy circumstances, for he had the best +accommodations the house afforded. We passed through a reception room to +his library, where everything showed that he had ample means for +indulging the modest tastes of a scholar. + +--The first thing, naturally, when one enters a scholar's study or +library, is to look at his books. One gets a notion very speedily of his +tastes and the range of his pursuits by a glance round his bookshelves. + +Of course, you know there are many fine houses where the library is a +part of the upholstery, so to speak. Books in handsome binding kept +locked under plate-glass in showy dwarf bookcases are as important to +stylish establishments as servants in livery; who sit with folded arms, +are to stylish equipages. I suppose those wonderful statues with the +folded arms do sometimes change their attitude, and I suppose those books +with the gilded backs do sometimes get opened, but it is nobody's +business whether they do or not, and it is not best to ask too many +questions. + +This sort of thing is common enough, but there is another case that may +prove deceptive if you undertake to judge from appearances. Once in a +while you will come on a house where you will find a family of readers +and almost no library. Some of the most indefatigable devourers of +literature have very few books. They belong to book clubs, they haunt +the public libraries, they borrow of friends, and somehow or other get +hold of everything they want, scoop out all it holds for them, and have +done with it. When I want a book, it is as a tiger wants a sheep. I +must have it with one spring, and, if I miss it, go away defeated and +hungry. And my experience with public libraries is that the first volume +of the book I inquire for is out, unless I happen to want the second, +when that is out. + +--I was pretty well prepared to understand the Master's library and his +account of it. We seated ourselves in two very comfortable chairs, and I +began the conversation. + +-I see you have a large and rather miscellaneous collection of books. Did +you get them together by accident or according to some preconceived plan? + +--Both, sir, both,--the Master answered. When Providence throws a good +book in my way, I bow to its decree and purchase it as an act of piety, +if it is reasonably or unreasonably cheap. I adopt a certain number of +books every year, out of a love for the foundlings and stray children of +other people's brains that nobody seems to care for. Look here. + +He took down a Greek Lexicon finely bound in calf, and spread it open. + +Do you see that Hedericus? I had Greek dictionaries enough and to spare, +but I saw that noble quarto lying in the midst of an ignoble crowd of +cheap books, and marked with a price which I felt to be an insult to +scholarship, to the memory of Homer, sir, and the awful shade of +AEschylus. I paid the mean price asked for it, and I wanted to double +it, but I suppose it would have been a foolish sacrifice of coin to +sentiment: I love that book for its looks and behavior. None of your +"half-calf" economies in that volume, sir! And see how it lies open +anywhere! There is n't a book in my library that has such a generous way +of laying its treasures before you. From Alpha to Omega, calm, assured +rest at any page that your choice or accident may light on. No lifting +of a rebellious leaf like an upstart servant that does not know his place +and can never be taught manners, but tranquil, well-bred repose. A book +may be a perfect gentleman in its aspect and demeanor, and this book +would be good company for personages like Roger Ascham and his pupils the +Lady Elizabeth and the Lady Jane Grey. + +The Master was evidently riding a hobby, and what I wanted to know was +the plan on which he had formed his library. So I brought him back to +the point by asking him the question in so many words. + +Yes,--he said,--I have a kind of notion of the way in which a library +ought to be put together--no, I don't mean that, I mean ought to grow. I +don't pretend to say that mine is a model, but it serves my turn well +enough, and it represents me pretty accurately. A scholar must shape his +own shell, secrete it one might almost say, for secretion is only +separation, you know, of certain elements derived from the materials of +the world about us. And a scholar's study, with the books lining its +walls, is his shell. It is n't a mollusk's shell, either; it 's a +caddice-worm's shell. You know about the caddice-worm? + +--More or less; less rather than more,--was my humble reply. + +Well, sir, the caddice-worm is the larva of a fly, and he makes a case +for himself out of all sorts of bits of everything that happen to suit +his particular fancy, dead or alive, sticks and stones and small shells +with their owners in 'em, living as comfortable as ever. Every one of +these caddice-worms has his special fancy as to what he will pick up and +glue together, with a kind of natural cement he provides himself, to make +his case out of. In it he lives, sticking his head and shoulders out +once in a while, that is all. Don't you see that a student in his +library is a caddice-worm in his case? I've told you that I take an +interest in pretty much everything, and don't mean to fence out any human +interests from the private grounds of my intelligence. Then, again, +there is a subject, perhaps I may say there is more than one, that I want +to exhaust, to know to the very bottom. And besides, of course I must +have my literary harem, my pare aux cerfs, where my favorites await my +moments of leisure and pleasure,--my scarce and precious editions, my +luxurious typographical masterpieces; my Delilahs, that take my head in +their lap: the pleasant story-tellers and the like; the books I love +because they are fair to look upon, prized by collectors, endeared by old +associations, secret treasures that nobody else knows anything about; +books, in short, that I like for insufficient reasons it may be, but +peremptorily, and mean to like and to love and to cherish till death us +do part. + +Don't you see I have given you a key to the way my library is made up, so +that you can apriorize the plan according to which I have filled my +bookcases? I will tell you how it is carried out. + +In the first place, you see, I have four extensive cyclopaedias. Out of +these I can get information enough to serve my immediate purpose on +almost any subject. These, of course, are supplemented by geographical, +biographical, bibliographical, and other dictionaries, including of +course lexicons to all the languages I ever meddle with. Next to these +come the works relating to my one or two specialties, and these +collections I make as perfect as I can. Every library should try to be +complete on something, if it were only on the history of pin-heads. I +don't mean that I buy all the trashy compilations on my special subjects, +but I try to have all the works of any real importance relating to them, +old as well as new. In the following compartment you will find the great +authors in all the languages I have mastered, from Homer and Hesiod +downward to the last great English name. + +This division, you see, you can make almost as extensive or as limited as +you choose. You can crowd the great representative writers into a small +compass; or you can make a library consisting only of the different +editions of Horace, if you have space and money enough. Then comes the +Harem, the shelf or the bookcase of Delilahs, that you have paid wicked +prices for, that you love without pretending to be reasonable about it, +and would bag in case of fire before all the rest, just as Mr. Townley +took the Clytie to his carriage when the anti-Catholic mob threatened his +house in 1780. As for the foundlings like my Hedericus, they go among +their peers; it is a pleasure to take them, from the dusty stall where +they were elbowed by plebeian school-books and battered odd volumes, and +give them Alduses and Elzevirs for companions. + +Nothing remains but the Infirmary. The most painful subjects are the +unfortunates that have lost a cover. Bound a hundred years ago, perhaps, +and one of the rich old browned covers gone--what a pity! Do you know +what to do about it? I 'll tell you,--no, I 'll show you. Look at this +volume. M. T. Ciceronis Opera,--a dozen of 'em,--one of 'em minus half +his cover, a poor one-legged cripple, six months ago,--now see him. + +--He looked very respectably indeed, both covers dark, ancient, very +decently matched; one would hardly notice the fact that they were not +twins. + +-I 'll tell you what I did. You poor devil, said I, you are a disgrace +to your family. We must send you to a surgeon and have some kind of a +Taliacotian operation performed on you. (You remember the operation as +described in Hudibras, of course.) The first thing was to find a subject +of similar age and aspect ready to part with one of his members. So I +went to Quidlibet's,--you know Quidlibet and that hieroglyphic sign of +his with the omniscient-looking eye as its most prominent feature,--and +laid my case before him. I want you, said I, to look up an old book of +mighty little value,--one of your ten-cent vagabonds would be the sort of +thing,--but an old beggar, with a cover like this, and lay it by for me. + +And Quidlibet, who is a pleasant body to deal with,--only he has insulted +one or two gentlemanly books by selling them to me at very low-bred and +shamefully insufficient prices,--Quidlibet, I say, laid by three old +books for me to help myself from, and did n't take the trouble even to +make me pay the thirty cents for 'em. Well, said I to myself, let us +look at our three books that have undergone the last insult short of the +trunkmaker's or the paper-mills, and see what they are. There may be +something worth looking at in one or the other of 'em. + +Now do you know it was with a kind of a tremor that I untied the package +and looked at these three unfortunates, too humble for the companionable +dime to recognize as its equal in value. The same sort of feeling you +know if you ever tried the Bible-and-key, or the Sortes Virgiliance. I +think you will like to know what the three books were which had been +bestowed upon me gratis, that I might tear away one of the covers of the +one that best matched my Cicero, and give it to the binder to cobble my +crippled volume with. + +The Master took the three books from a cupboard and continued. + +No. I. An odd volume of The Adventurer. It has many interesting things +enough, but is made precious by containing Simon Browne's famous +Dedication to the Queen of his Answer to Tindal's "Christianity as old as +the Creation." Simon Browne was the Man without a Soul. An excellent +person, a most worthy dissenting minister, but lying under a strange +delusion. + +Here is a paragraph from his Dedication: + +"He was once a man; and of some little name; but of no worth, as his +present unparalleled case makes but too manifest; for by the immediate +hand of an avenging GOD, his very thinking substance has, for more than +seven years, been continually wasting away, till it is wholly perished +out of him, if it be not utterly come to nothing. None, no, not the least +remembrance of its very ruins, remains, not the shadow of an idea is +left, nor any sense that so much as one single one, perfect or imperfect, +whole or diminished, ever did appear to a mind within him, or was +perceived by it." + +Think of this as the Dedication of a book "universally allowed to be the +best which that controversy produced," and what a flood of light it pours +on the insanities of those self-analyzing diarists whose morbid reveries +have been so often mistaken for piety! No. I. had something for me, +then, besides the cover, which was all it claimed to have worth offering. + +No. II. was "A View of Society and Manners in Italy." Vol. III. By John +Moore, M. D. (Zeluco Moore.) You know his pleasant book. In this +particular volume what interested me most, perhaps, was the very spirited +and intelligent account of the miracle of the liquefaction of the blood +of Saint Januarius, but it gave me an hour's mighty agreeable reading. +So much for Number Two. + +No. III. was "An ESSAY On the Great EFFECTS of Even Languid and Unheeded +LOCAL MOTION." By the Hon. Robert Boyle. Published in 1685, and, as +appears from other sources, "received with great and general applause." +I confess I was a little startled to find how near this earlier +philosopher had come to the modern doctrines, such as are illustrated in +Tyndall's "Heat considered as a Mode of Motion." He speaks of "Us, who +endeavor to resolve the Phenomena of Nature into Matter and Local +motion." That sounds like the nineteenth century, but what shall we say +to this? "As when a bar of iron or silver, having been well hammered, is +newly taken off of the anvil; though the eye can discern no motion in it, +yet the touch will readily perceive it to be very hot, and if you spit +upon it, the brisk agitation of the insensible parts will become visible +in that which they will produce in the liquor." He takes a bar of tin, +and tries whether by bending it to and fro two or three times he cannot +"procure a considerable internal commotion among the parts "; and having +by this means broken or cracked it in the middle, finds, as he expected, +that the middle parts had considerably heated each other. There are many +other curious and interesting observations in the volume which I should +like to tell you of, but these will serve my purpose. + +--Which book furnished you the old cover you wanted?--said I. + +--Did he kill the owl?--said the Master, laughing. [I suppose you, the +reader, know the owl story.]--It was Number Two that lent me one of his +covers. Poor wretch! He was one of three, and had lost his two +brothers. From him that hath not shall be taken even that which he hath. +The Scripture had to be fulfilled in his case. But I couldn't help +saying to myself, What do you keep writing books for, when the stalls are +covered all over with 'em, good books, too, that nobody will give ten +cents apiece for, lying there like so many dead beasts of burden, of no +account except to strip off their hides? What is the use, I say? I have +made a book or two in my time, and I am making another that perhaps will +see the light one of these days. But if I had my life to live over again, +I think I should go in for silence, and get as near to Nirvana as I +could. This language is such a paltry tool! The handle of it cuts and +the blade doesn't. You muddle yourself by not knowing what you mean by a +word, and send out your unanswered riddles and rebuses to clear up other +people's difficulties. It always seems to me that talk is a ripple and +thought is a ground swell. A string of words, that mean pretty much +anything, helps you in a certain sense to get hold of a thought, just as +a string of syllables that mean nothing helps you to a word; but it's a +poor business, it's a poor business, and the more you study definition +the more you find out how poor it is. Do you know I sometimes think our +little entomological neighbor is doing a sounder business than we people +that make books about ourselves and our slippery abstractions? A man can +see the spots on a bug and count 'em, and tell what their color is, and +put another bug alongside of him and see whether the two are alike or +different. And when he uses a word he knows just what he means. There +is no mistake as to the meaning and identity of pulex irritans, confound +him! + +--What if we should look in, some day, on the Scarabeeist, as he calls +himself?--said I.---The fact is the Master had got agoing at such a rate +that I was willing to give a little turn to the conversation. + +--Oh, very well,--said the Master,--I had some more things to say, but I +don't doubt they'll keep. And besides, I take an interest in entomology, +and have my own opinion on the meloe question. + +--You don't mean to say you have studied insects as well as solar systems +and the order of things generally? + +--He looked pleased. All philosophers look pleased when people say to +them virtually, "Ye are gods." The Master says he is vain +constitutionally, and thanks God that he is. I don't think he has enough +vanity to make a fool of himself with it, but the simple truth is he +cannot help knowing that he has a wide and lively intelligence, and it +pleases him to know it, and to be reminded of it, especially in an +oblique and tangential sort of way, so as not to look like downright +flattery. + +Yes, yes, I have amused a summer or two with insects, among other things. +I described a new tabanus,--horsefly, you know,--which, I think, had +escaped notice. I felt as grand when I showed up my new discovery as if +I had created the beast. I don't doubt Herschel felt as if he had made a +planet when he first showed the astronomers Georgium Sidus, as he called +it. And that reminds me of something. I was riding on the outside of a +stagecoach from London to Windsor in the year--never mind the year, but +it must have been in June, I suppose, for I bought some strawberries. +England owes me a sixpence with interest from date, for I gave the woman +a shilling, and the coach contrived to start or the woman timed it so +that I just missed getting my change. What an odd thing memory is, to be +sure, to have kept such a triviality, and have lost so much that was +invaluable! She is a crazy wench, that Mnemosyne; she throws her jewels +out of the window and locks up straws and old rags in her strong box. + +[De profundis! said I to myself, the bottom of the bushel has dropped +out! Sancta--Maria, ora pro nobis!] + +--But as I was saying, I was riding on the outside of a stage-coach from +London to Windsor, when all at once a picture familiar to me from my New +England village childhood came upon me like a reminiscence rather than a +revelation. It was a mighty bewilderment of slanted masts and spars and +ladders and ropes, from the midst of which a vast tube, looking as if it +might be a piece of ordnance such as the revolted angels battered the +walls of Heaven with, according to Milton, lifted its muzzle defiantly +towards the sky. Why, you blessed old rattletrap, said I to myself, I +know you as well as I know my father's spectacles and snuff-box! And +that same crazy witch of a Memory, so divinely wise and foolish, travels +thirty-five hundred miles or so in a single pulse-beat, makes straight +for an old house and an old library and an old corner of it, and whisks +out a volume of an old cyclopaedia, and there is the picture of which +this is the original. Sir William Herschel's great telescope! It was +just about as big, as it stood there by the roadside, as it was in the +picture, not much different any way. Why should it be? The pupil of +your eye is only a gimlet-hole, not so very much bigger than the eye of a +sail-needle, and a camel has to go through it before you can see him. +You look into a stereoscope and think you see a miniature of a building +or a mountain; you don't, you 're made a fool of by your lying +intelligence, as you call it; you see the building and the mountain just +as large as with your naked eye looking straight at the real objects. +Doubt it, do you? Perhaps you'd like to doubt it to the music of a +couple of gold five-dollar pieces. If you would, say the word, and man +and money, as Messrs. Heenan and Morrissey have it, shall be forthcoming; +for I will make you look at a real landscape with your right eye, and a +stereoscopic view of it with your left eye, both at once, and you can +slide one over the other by a little management and see how exactly the +picture overlies the true landscape. We won't try it now, because I want +to read you something out of my book. + +--I have noticed that the Master very rarely fails to come back to his +original proposition, though he, like myself, is fond of zigzagging in +order to reach it. Men's minds are like the pieces on a chess-board in +their way of moving. One mind creeps from the square it is on to the +next, straight forward, like the pawns. Another sticks close to its own +line of thought and follows it as far as it goes, with no heed for +others' opinions, as the bishop sweeps the board in the line of his own +color. And another class of minds break through everything that lies +before them, ride over argument and opposition, and go to the end of the +board, like the castle. But there is still another sort of intellect +which is very apt to jump over the thought that stands next and come down +in the unexpected way of the knight. But that same knight, as the chess +manuals will show you, will contrive to get on to every square of the +board in a pretty series of moves that looks like a pattern of +embroidery, and so these zigzagging minds like the Master's, and I +suppose my own is something like it, will sooner or later get back to the +square next the one they started from. + +The Master took down a volume from one of the shelves. I could not help +noticing that it was a shelf near his hand as he sat, and that the volume +looked as if he had made frequent use of it. I saw, too, that he handled +it in a loving sort of way; the tenderness he would have bestowed on a +wife and children had to find a channel somewhere, and what more natural +than that he should look fondly on the volume which held the thoughts +that had rolled themselves smooth and round in his mind like pebbles on a +beach, the dreams which, under cover of the simple artifices such as all +writers use, told the little world of readers his secret hopes and +aspirations, the fancies which had pleased him and which he could not +bear to let die without trying to please others with them? I have a +great sympathy with authors, most of all with unsuccessful ones. If one +had a dozen lives or so, it would all be very well, but to have only a +single ticket in the great lottery, and have that drawn a blank, is a +rather sad sort of thing. So I was pleased to see the affectionate kind +of pride with which the Master handled his book; it was a success, in its +way, and he looked on it with a cheerful sense that he had a right to be +proud of it. The Master opened the volume, and, putting on his large +round glasses, began reading, as authors love to read that love their +books. + +--The only good reason for believing in the stability of the moral order +of things is to be found in the tolerable steadiness of human averages. +Out of a hundred human beings fifty-one will be found in the long run on +the side of the right, so far as they know it, and against the wrong. +They will be organizers rather than disorganizers, helpers and not +hinderers in the upward movement of the race. This is the main fact we +have to depend on. The right hand of the great organism is a little +stronger than the left, that is all. + +Now and then we come across a left-handed man. So now and then we find a +tribe or a generation, the subject of what we may call moral +left-handedness, but that need not trouble us about our formula. All we +have to do is to spread the average over a wider territory or a longer +period of time. Any race or period that insists on being left-handed +must go under if it comes in contact with a right-handed one. If there +were, as a general rule, fifty-one rogues in the hundred instead of +forty-nine, all other qualities of mind and body being equally +distributed between the two sections, the order of things would sooner or +later end in universal disorder. It is the question between the leak and +the pumps. + +It does not seem very likely that the Creator of all things is taken by +surprise at witnessing anything any of his creatures do or think. Men +have sought out many inventions, but they can have contrived nothing +which did not exist as an idea in the omniscient consciousness to which +past, present, and future are alike Now. + +We read what travellers tell us about the King of Dahomey, or the Fejee +Island people, or the short and simple annals of the celebrities recorded +in the Newgate Calendar, and do not know just what to make of these +brothers and sisters of the race; but I do not suppose an intelligence +even as high as the angelic beings, to stop short there, would see +anything very peculiar or wonderful about them, except as everything is +wonderful and unlike everything else. + +It is very curious to see how science, that is, looking at and arranging +the facts of a case with our own eyes and our own intelligence, without +minding what somebody else has said, or how some old majority vote went +in a pack of intriguing ecclesiastics,--I say it is very curious to see +how science is catching up with one superstition after another. + +There is a recognized branch of science familiar to all those who know +anything of the studies relating to life, under the name of Teratology. +It deals with all sorts of monstrosities which are to be met with in +living beings, and more especially in animals. It is found that what +used to be called lusus naturae, or freaks of nature, are just as much +subject to laws as the naturally developed forms of living creatures. + +The rustic looks at the Siamese twins, and thinks he is contemplating an +unheard-of anomaly; but there are plenty of cases like theirs in the +books of scholars, and though they are not quite so common as double +cherries, the mechanism of their formation is not a whit more mysterious +than that of the twinned fruits. Such cases do not disturb the average +arrangement; we have Changs and Engs at one pole, and Cains and Abels at +the other. One child is born with six fingers on each hand, and another +falls short by one or more fingers of his due allowance; but the glover +puts his faith in the great law of averages, and makes his gloves with +five fingers apiece, trusting nature for their counterparts. + +Thinking people are not going to be scared out of explaining or at least +trying to explain things by the shrieks of persons whose beliefs are +disturbed thereby. Comets were portents to Increase Mather, President of +Harvard College; "preachers of Divine wrath, heralds and messengers of +evil tidings to the world." It is not so very long since Professor +Winthrop was teaching at the same institution. I can remember two of his +boys very well, old boys, it is true, they were, and one of them wore a +three-cornered cocked hat; but the father of these boys, whom, as I say, +I can remember, had to defend himself against the minister of the Old +South Church for the impiety of trying to account for earthquakes on +natural principles. And his ancestor, Governor Winthrop, would probably +have shaken his head over his descendant's dangerous audacity, if one may +judge by the solemn way in which he mentions poor Mrs. Hutchinson's +unpleasant experience, which so grievously disappointed her maternal +expectations. But people used always to be terribly frightened by those +irregular vital products which we now call "interesting specimens" and +carefully preserve in jars of alcohol. It took next to nothing to make a +panic; a child was born a few centuries ago with six teeth in its head, +and about that time the Turks began gaining great advantages over the +Christians. Of course there was an intimate connection between the +prodigy and the calamity. So said the wise men of that day. + +--All these out-of-the-way cases are studied connectedly now, and are +found to obey very exact rules. With a little management one can even +manufacture living monstrosities. Malformed salmon and other fish can be +supplied in quantity, if anybody happens to want them. Now, what all I +have said is tending to is exactly this, namely, that just as the +celestial movements are regulated by fixed laws, just as bodily +monstrosities are produced according to rule, and with as good reason as +normal shapes, so obliquities of character are to be accounted for on +perfectly natural principles; they are just as capable of classification +as the bodily ones, and they all diverge from a certain average or middle +term which is the type of its kind. If life had been a little longer I +would have written a number of essays for which, as it is, I cannot +expect to have time. I have set down the titles of a hundred or more, +and I have often been tempted to publish these, for according to my idea, +the title of a book very often renders the rest of it unnecessary. +"Moral Teratology," for instance, which is marked No. 67 on my list of +"Essays Potential, not Actual," suggests sufficiently well what I should +be like to say in the pages it would preface. People hold up their hands +at a moral monster as if there was no reason for his existence but his +own choice. That was a fine specimen we read of in the papers a few +years ago, the Frenchman, it may be remembered, who used to waylay and +murder young women, and after appropriating their effects, bury their +bodies in a private cemetery he kept for that purpose. It is very +natural, and I do not say it is not very proper, to hang such eccentric +persons as this; but it is not clear whether his vagaries produce any +more sensation at Headquarters than the meek enterprises of the mildest +of city missionaries. For the study of Moral Teratology will teach you +that you do not get such a malformed character as that without a long +chain of causes to account for it; and if you only knew those causes, you +would know perfectly well what to expect. + +You may feel pretty sure that our friend of the private cemetery was not +the child of pious and intelligent parents; that he was not nurtured by +the best of mothers, and educated by the most judicious teachers; and +that he did not come of a lineage long known and honored for its +intellectual and moral qualities. Suppose that one should go to the +worst quarter of the city and pick out the worst-looking child of the +worst couple he could find, and then train him up successively at the +School for Infant Rogues, the Academy for Young Scamps, and the College +for Complete Criminal Education, would it be reasonable to expect a +Francois Xavier or a Henry Martyn to be the result of such a training? +The traditionists, in whose presumptuous hands the science of +anthropology has been trusted from time immemorial, have insisted on +eliminating cause and effect from the domain of morals. When they have +come across a moral monster they have seemed to think that he put himself +together, having a free choice of all the constituents which make up +manhood, and that consequently no punishment could be too bad for him. + +I say, hang him and welcome, if that is the best thing for society; hate +him, in a certain sense, as you hate a rattlesnake, but, if you pretend +to be a philosopher, recognize the fact that what you hate in him is +chiefly misfortune, and that if you had been born with his villanous low +forehead and poisoned instincts, and bred among creatures of the Races +Maudites whose natural history has to be studied like that of beasts of +prey and vermin, you would not have been sitting there in your gold-bowed +spectacles and passing judgment on the peccadilloes of your +fellow-creatures. + +I have seen men and women so disinterested and noble, and devoted to the +best works, that it appeared to me if any good and faithful servant was +entitled to enter into the joys of his Lord, such as these might be. But +I do not know that I ever met with a human being who seemed to me to have +a stronger claim on the pitying consideration and kindness of his Maker +than a wretched, puny, crippled, stunted child that I saw in Newgate, who +was pointed out as one of the most notorious and inveterate little +thieves in London. I have no doubt that some of those who were looking +at this pitiable morbid secretion of the diseased social organism thought +they were very virtuous for hating him so heartily. + +It is natural, and in one sense is all right enough. I want to catch a +thief and put the extinguisher on an incendiary as much as my neighbors +do; but I have two sides to my consciousness as I have two sides to my +heart, one carrying dark, impure blood, and the other the bright stream +which has been purified and vivified by the great source of life and +death,--the oxygen of the air which gives all things their vital heat, +and burns all things at last to ashes. + +One side of me loves and hates; the other side of me judges, say rather +pleads and suspends judgment. I think, if I were left to myself, I +should hang a rogue and then write his apology and subscribe to a neat +monument, commemorating, not his virtues, but his misfortunes. I should, +perhaps, adorn the marble with emblems, as is the custom with regard to +the more regular and normally constituted members of society. It would +not be proper to put the image of a lamb upon the stone which marked the +resting-place of him of the private cemetery. But I would not hesitate +to place the effigy of a wolf or a hyena upon the monument. I do not +judge these animals, I only kill them or shut them up. I presume they +stand just as well with their Maker as lambs and kids, and the existence +of such beings is a perpetual plea for God Almighty's poor, yelling, +scalping Indians, his weasand-stopping Thugs, his despised felons, his +murdering miscreants, and all the unfortunates whom we, picked +individuals of a picked class of a picked race, scrubbed, combed, and +catechized from our cradles upward, undertake to find accommodations for +in another state of being where it is to be hoped they will have a better +chance than they had in this. + +The Master paused, and took off his great round spectacles. I could not +help thinking that he looked benevolent enough to pardon Judas Iscariot +just at that moment, though his features can knot themselves up pretty, +formidably on occasion. + +--You are somewhat of a phrenologist, I judge, by the way you talk of +instinctive and inherited tendencies--I said. + +--They tell me I ought to be,--he answered, parrying my question, as I +thought.---I have had a famous chart made out of my cerebral organs, +according to which I ought to have been--something more than a poor +Magister Artaum. + +--I thought a shade of regret deepened the lines on his broad, +antique-looking forehead, and I began talking about all the sights I had +seen in the way of monstrosities, of which I had a considerable list, as +you will see when I tell you my weakness in that direction. This, you +understand, Beloved, is private and confidential. + +I pay my quarter of a dollar and go into all the side-shows that follow +the caravans and circuses round the country. I have made friends of all +the giants and all the dwarfs. I became acquainted with Monsieur Bihin, +le plus bel homme du monde, and one of the biggest, a great many years +ago, and have kept up my agreeable relations with him ever since. He is +a most interesting giant, with a softness of voice and tenderness of +feeling which I find very engaging. I was on friendly terms with Mr. +Charles Freeman, a very superior giant of American birth, seven feet +four, I think, in height, "double-jointed," of mylodon muscularity, the +same who in a British prize-ring tossed the Tipton Slasher from one side +of the rope to the other, and now lies stretched, poor fellow! in a +mighty grave in the same soil which holds the sacred ashes of Cribb, and +the honored dust of Burke,--not the one "commonly called the sublime," +but that other Burke to whom Nature had denied the sense of hearing lest +he should be spoiled by listening to the praises of the admiring circles +which looked on his dear-bought triumphs. Nor have I despised those +little ones whom that devout worshipper of Nature in her exceptional +forms, the distinguished Barnum, has introduced to the notice of mankind. +The General touches his chapeau to me, and the Commodore gives me a +sailor's greeting. I have had confidential interviews with the +double-headed daughter of Africa,--so far, at least, as her twofold +personality admitted of private confidences. I have listened to the +touching experiences of the Bearded Lady, whose rough cheeks belie her +susceptible heart. Miss Jane Campbell has allowed me to question her on +the delicate subject of avoirdupois equivalents; and the armless fair +one, whose embrace no monarch could hope to win, has wrought me a +watch-paper with those despised digits which have been degraded from +gloves to boots in our evolution from the condition of quadrumana. + +I hope you have read my experiences as good-naturedly as the old Master +listened to them. He seemed to be pleased with my whim, and promised to +go with me to see all the side-shows of the next caravan. Before I left +him he wrote my name in a copy of the new edition of his book, telling me +that it would not all be new to me by a great deal, for he often talked +what he had printed to make up for having printed a good deal of what he +had talked. + +Here is the passage of his Poem the Young Astronomer read to us. + + WIND-CLOUDS AND STAR-DRIFTS. + + IV + + From my lone turret as I look around + O'er the green meadows to the ring of blue, + From slope, from summit, and from half-hid vale + The sky is stabbed with dagger-pointed spires, + Their gilded symbols whirling in the wind, + Their brazen tongues proclaiming to the world, + Here truth is sold, the only genuine ware; + See that it has our trade-mark! + You will buy Poison instead of food across the way, + The lies of--this or that, each several name + The standard's blazon and the battle-cry + Of some true-gospel faction, and again + The token of the Beast to all beside. + And grouped round each I see a huddling crowd + Alike in all things save the words they use; + In love, in longing, hate and fear the same. + + Whom do we trust and serve? We speak of one + And bow to many; Athens still would find + The shrines of all she worshipped safe within + Our tall barbarian temples, and the thrones + That crowned Olympus mighty as of old. + The god of music rules the Sabbath choir; + The lyric muse must leave the sacred nine + To help us please the dilettante's ear; + Plutus limps homeward with us, as we leave + The portals of the temple where we knelt + And listened while the god of eloquence + (Hermes of ancient days, but now disguised + In sable vestments) with that other god + Somnus, the son of Erebus and Nog, + Fights in unequal contest for our souls; + The dreadful sovereign of the under world + Still shakes his sceptre at us, and we hear + The baying of the triple-throated hound; + Eros-is young as ever, and as fair + The lovely Goddess born of ocean's foam. + + These be thy gods, O Israel! Who is he, + The one ye name and tell us that ye serve, + Whom ye would call me from my lonely tower + To worship with the many-headed throng? + Is it the God that walked in Eden's grove + In the cool hour to seek our guilty sire? + The God who dealt with Abraham as the sons + Of that old patriarch deal with other men? + The jealous God of Moses, one who feels + An image as an insult, and is wroth + With him who made it and his child unborn? + The God who plagued his people for the sin + Of their adulterous king, beloved of him, + The same who offers to a chosen few + The right to praise him in eternal song + While a vast shrieking world of endless woe + Blends its dread chorus with their rapturous hymn? + Is this the God ye mean, or is it he + Who heeds the sparrow's fall, whose loving heart + Is as the pitying father's to his child, + Whose lesson to his children is, "Forgive," + Whose plea for all, "They know not what they do" + + I claim the right of knowing whom I serve, + Else is my service idle; He that asks + My homage asks it from a reasoning soul. + To crawl is not to worship; we have learned + A drill of eyelids, bended neck and knee, + Hanging our prayers on binges, till we ape + The flexures of the many-jointed worm. + Asia has taught her Aliabs and salaams + To the world's children,--we have grown to men! + We who have rolled the sphere beneath our feet + To find a virgin forest, as we lay + The beams of our rude temple, first of all + Must frame its doorway high enough for man + To pass unstooping; knowing as we do + That He who shaped us last of living forms + Has long enough been served by creeping things, + Reptiles that left their foot-prints in the sand + Of old sea-margins that have turned to stone, + And men who learned their ritual; we demand + To know him first, then trust him and then love + When we have found him worthy of our love, + Tried by our own poor hearts and not before; + He must be truer than the truest friend, + He must be tenderer than a woman's love, + A father better than the best of sires; + Kinder than she who bore us, though we sin + Oftener than did the brother we are told, + We-poor ill-tempered mortals-must forgive, + Though seven times sinning threescore times and ten. + + This is the new world's gospel: Be ye men! + Try well the legends of the children's time; + Ye are the chosen people, God has led + Your steps across the desert of the deep + As now across the desert of the shore; + Mountains are cleft before you as the sea + Before the wandering tribe of Israel's sons; + Still onward rolls the thunderous caravan, + Its coming printed on the western sky, + A cloud by day, by night a pillared flame; + Your prophets are a hundred unto one + Of them of old who cried, "Thus saith the Lord"; + They told of cities that should fall in heaps, + But yours of mightier cities that shall rise + Where yet the lonely fishers spread their nets, + Where hides the fox and hoots the midnight owl; + The tree of knowledge in your garden grows + Not single, but at every humble door; + Its branches lend you their immortal food, + That fills you with the sense of what ye are, + No servants of an altar hewed and carved + From senseless stone by craft of human hands, + Rabbi, or dervish, Brahmin, bishop, bonze, + But masters of the charm with which they work + To keep your hands from that forbidden tree! + + Ye that have tasted that divinest fruit, + Look on this world of yours with opened eyes! + Ye are as gods! Nay, makers of your gods, + Each day ye break an image in your shrine + And plant a fairer image where it stood + Where is the Moloch of your fathers' creed, + Whose fires of torment burned for span-long babes? + Fit object for a tender mother's love! + Why not? It was a bargain duly made + For these same infants through the surety's act + Intrusted with their all for earth and heaven, + By Him who chose their guardian, knowing well + His fitness for the task,--this, even this, + Was the true doctrine only yesterday + As thoughts are reckoned,--and to-day you hear + In words that sound as if from human tongues + Those monstrous, uncouth horrors of the past + That blot the blue of heaven and shame the earth + As would the saurians of the age of slime, + Awaking from their stony sepulchres + And wallowing hateful in the eye of day! + +Four of us listened to these lines as the young man read them,--the +Master and myself and our two ladies. This was the little party we got +up to hear him read. I do not think much of it was very new to the +Master or myself. At any rate, he said to me when we were alone, That is +the kind of talk the "natural man," as the theologians call him, is apt +to fall into. + +--I thought it was the Apostle Paul, and not the theologians, that used +the term "natural man", I ventured to suggest. + +--I should like to know where the Apostle Paul learned English?--said the +Master, with the look of one who does not mean to be tripped up if he can +help himself.---But at any rate,--he continued,--the "natural man," so +called, is worth listening to now and then, for he didn't make his +nature, and the Devil did n't make it; and if the Almighty made it, I +never saw or heard of anything he made that wasn't worth attending to. + +The young man begged the Lady to pardon anything that might sound harshly +in these crude thoughts of his. He had been taught strange things, he +said, from old theologies, when he was a child, and had thought his way +out of many of his early superstitions. As for the Young Girl, our +Scheherezade, he said to her that she must have got dreadfully tired (at +which she colored up and said it was no such thing), and he promised +that, to pay for her goodness in listening, he would give her a lesson in +astronomy the next fair evening, if she would be his scholar, at which +she blushed deeper than before, and said something which certainly was +not No. + + + + +IX + +There was no sooner a vacancy on our side of the table, than the Master +proposed a change of seats which would bring the Young Astronomer into +our immediate neighborhood. The Scarabee was to move into the place of +our late unlamented associate, the Man of Letters, so called. I was to +take his place, the Master to take mine, and the young man that which had +been occupied by the Master. The advantages of this change were obvious. +The old Master likes an audience, plainly enough; and with myself on one +side of him, and the young student of science, whose speculative turn is +sufficiently shown in the passages from his poem, on the other side, he +may feel quite sure of being listened to. There is only one trouble in +the arrangement, and that is that it brings this young man not only close +to us, but also next to our Scheherezade. + +I am obliged to confess that he has shown occasional marks of inattention +even while the Master was discoursing in a way that I found agreeable +enough. I am quite sure it is no intentional disrespect to the old +Master. It seems to me rather that he has become interested in the +astronomical lessons he has been giving the Young Girl. He has studied +so much alone, that it is naturally a pleasure to him to impart some of +his knowledge. As for his young pupil, she has often thought of being a +teacher herself, so that she is of course very glad to acquire any +accomplishment that may be useful to her in that capacity. I do not see +any reason why some of the boarders should have made such remarks as they +have done. One cannot teach astronomy to advantage, without going out of +doors, though I confess that when two young people go out by daylight to +study the stars, as these young folks have done once or twice, I do not +so much wonder at a remark or suggestion from those who have nothing +better to do than study their neighbors. + +I ought to have told the reader before this that I found, as I suspected, +that our innocent-looking Scheherezade was at the bottom of the popgun +business. I watched her very closely, and one day, when the little +monkey made us all laugh by stopping the Member of the Haouse in the +middle of a speech he was repeating to us,--it was his great effort of +the season on a bill for the protection of horn-pout in Little Muddy +River,--I caught her making the signs that set him going. At a slight +tap of her knife against her plate, he got all ready, and presently I saw +her cross her knife and fork upon her plate, and as she did so, pop! went +the small piece of artillery. The Member of the Haouse was just saying +that this bill hit his constitooents in their most vital--when a pellet +hit him in the feature of his countenance most exposed to aggressions and +least tolerant of liberties. The Member resented this unparliamentary +treatment by jumping up from his chair and giving the small aggressor a +good shaking, at the same time seizing the implement which had caused his +wrath and breaking it into splinters. The Boy blubbered, the Young Girl +changed color, and looked as if she would cry, and that was the last of +these interruptions. + +I must own that I have sometimes wished we had the popgun back, for it +answered all the purpose of "the previous question" in a deliberative +assembly. No doubt the Young Girl was capricious in setting the little +engine at work, but she cut short a good many disquisitions that +threatened to be tedious. I find myself often wishing for her and her +small fellow-conspirator's intervention, in company where I am supposed +to be enjoying myself. When my friend the politician gets too far into +the personal details of the quorum pars magna fui, I find myself all at +once exclaiming in mental articulation, Popgun! When my friend the +story-teller begins that protracted narrative which has often emptied me +of all my voluntary laughter for the evening, he has got but a very +little way when I say to myself, What wouldn't I give for a pellet from +that popgun! In short, so useful has that trivial implement proved as a +jaw-stopper and a boricide, that I never go to a club or a dinner-party, +without wishing the company included our Scheherezade and That Boy with +his popgun. + +How clearly I see now into the mechanism of the Young Girl's audacious +contrivance for regulating our table-talk! Her brain is tired half the +time, and she is too nervous to listen patiently to what a quieter person +would like well enough, or at least would not be annoyed by. It amused +her to invent a scheme for managing the headstrong talkers, and also let +off a certain spirit of mischief which in some of these nervous girls +shows itself in much more questionable forms. How cunning these +half-hysteric young persons are, to be sure! I had to watch a long time +before I detected the telegraphic communication between the two +conspirators. I have no doubt she had sedulously schooled the little +monkey to his business, and found great delight in the task of +instruction. + +But now that our Scheherezade has become a scholar instead of a teacher, +she seems to be undergoing a remarkable transformation. Astronomy is +indeed a noble science. It may well kindle the enthusiasm of a youthful +nature. I fancy at times that I see something of that starry light which +I noticed in the young man's eyes gradually kindling in hers. But can it +be astronomy alone that does it? Her color comes and goes more readily +than when the old Master sat next her on the left. It is having this +young man at her side, I suppose. Of course it is. I watch her with +great, I may say tender interest. If he would only fall in love with +her, seize upon her wandering affections and fancies as the Romans seized +the Sabine virgins, lift her out of herself and her listless and weary +drudgeries, stop the outflow of this young life which is draining itself +away in forced literary labor--dear me, dear me--if, if, if-- + + "If I were God + An' ye were Martin Elginbrod!" + +I am afraid all this may never be. I fear that he is too much given to +lonely study, to self-companionship, to all sorts of questionings, to +looking at life as at a solemn show where he is only a spectator. I dare +not build up a romance on what I have yet seen. My reader may, but I +will answer for nothing. I shall wait and see. + +The old Master and I have at last made that visit to the Scarabee which +we had so long promised ourselves. + +When we knocked at his door he came and opened it, instead of saying, +Come in. He was surprised, I have no doubt, at the sound of our +footsteps; for he rarely has a visitor, except the little monkey of a +boy, and he may have thought a troop of marauders were coming to rob him +of his treasures. Collectors feel so rich in the possession of their +rarer specimens, that they forget how cheap their precious things seem to +common eyes, and are as afraid of being robbed as if they were dealers in +diamonds. They have the name of stealing from each other now and then, +it is true, but many of their priceless possessions would hardly tempt a +beggar. Values are artificial: you will not be able to get ten cents of +the year 1799 for a dime. + +The Scarabee was reassured as soon as he saw our faces, and he welcomed +us not ungraciously into his small apartment. It was hard to find a +place to sit down, for all the chairs were already occupied by cases and +boxes full of his favorites. I began, therefore, looking round the room. +Bugs of every size and aspect met my eyes wherever they turned. I felt +for the moment as I suppose a man may feel in a fit of delirium tremens. +Presently my attention was drawn towards a very odd-looking insect on the +mantelpiece. This animal was incessantly raising its arms as if towards +heaven and clasping them together, as though it were wrestling in prayer. + +Do look at this creature,--I said to the Master, he seems to be very hard +at work at his devotions. + +Mantas religiosa,--said the Master,--I know the praying rogue. Mighty +devout and mighty cruel; crushes everything he can master, or impales it +on his spiny shanks and feeds upon it, like a gluttonous wretch as he is. +I have seen the Mantis religiosa on a larger scale than this, now and +then. A sacred insect, sir,--sacred to many tribes of men; to the +Hottentots, to the Turks, yes, sir, and to the Frenchmen, who call the +rascal prie dieu, and believe him to have special charge of children that +have lost their way. + +Doesn't it seem as if there was a vein of satire as well as of fun that +ran through the solemn manifestations of creative wisdom? And of +deception too--do you see how nearly those dried leaves resemble an +insect? + +They do, indeed,--I answered,--but not so closely as to deceive me. They +remind me of an insect, but I could not mistake them for one. + +--Oh, you couldn't mistake those dried leaves for an insect, hey? Well, +how can you mistake that insect for dried leaves? That is the question; +for insect it is,--phyllum siccifolium, the "walking leaf," as some have +called it.--The Master had a hearty laugh at my expense. + +The Scarabee did not seem to be amused at the Master's remarks or at my +blunder. Science is always perfectly serious to him; and he would no +more laugh over anything connected with his study, than a clergyman would +laugh at a funeral. + +They send me all sorts of trumpery,--he said, Orthoptera and Lepidoptera; +as if a coleopterist--a scarabeeist--cared for such things. This +business is no boy's play to me. The insect population of the world is +not even catalogued yet, and a lifetime given to the scarabees is a small +contribution enough to their study. I like your men of general +intelligence well enough,--your Linnwuses and your Buffons and your +Cuviers; but Cuvier had to go to Latreille for his insects, and if +Latreille had been able to consult me,--yes, me, gentlemen!--he would n't +have made the blunders he did about some of the coleoptera. + +The old Master, as I think you must have found out by this time,--you, +Beloved, I mean, who read every word,--has a reasonably good opinion, as +perhaps he has a right to have, of his own intelligence and acquirements. +The Scarabee's exultation and glow as he spoke of the errors of the great +entomologist which he himself could have corrected, had the effect on the +old Master which a lusty crow has upon the feathered champion of the +neighboring barnyard. He too knew something about insects. Had he not +discovered a, new tabanus? Had he not made preparations of the very +coleoptera the Scarabee studied so exclusively,--preparations which the +illustrious Swammerdam would not have been ashamed of, and dissected a +melolontha as exquisitely as Strauss Durckheim himself ever did it? So +the Master, recalling these studies of his and certain difficult and +disputed points at which he had labored in one of his entomological +paroxysms, put a question which there can be little doubt was intended to +puzzle the Scarabee, and perhaps,--for the best of us is human (I am +beginning to love the old Master, but he has his little weaknesses, thank +Heaven, like the rest of us),--I say perhaps, was meant to show that some +folks knew as much about some things as some other folks. + +The little dried-up specialist did not dilate into fighting dimensions +as--perhaps, again--the Master may have thought he would. He looked a +mild surprise, but remained as quiet as one of his own beetles when you +touch him and he makes believe he is dead. The blank silence became +oppressive. Was the Scarabee crushed, as so many of his namesakes are +crushed, under the heel of this trampling omniscient? + +At last the Scarabee creaked out very slowly, "Did I understand you to +ask the following question, to wit?" and so forth; for I was quite out of +my depth, and only know that he repeated the Master's somewhat complex +inquiry, word for word. + +--That was exactly my question,--said the Master,--and I hope it is not +uncivil to ask one which seems to me to be a puzzler. + +Not uncivil in the least,--said the Scarabee, with something as much like +a look of triumph as his dry face permitted,--not uncivil at all, but a +rather extraordinary question to ask at this date of entomological +history. I settled that question some years ago, by a series of +dissections, six-and-thirty in number, reported in an essay I can show +you and would give you a copy of, but that I am a little restricted in my +revenue, and our Society has to be economical, so I have but this one. +You see, sir,--and he went on with elytra and antennae and tarsi and +metatarsi and tracheae and stomata and wing-muscles and leg-muscles and +ganglions,--all plain enough, I do not doubt, to those accustomed to +handling dor-bugs and squash-bugs and such undesirable objects of +affection to all but naturalists. + +He paused when he got through, not for an answer, for there evidently was +none, but to see how the Master would take it. The Scarabee had had it +all his own way. + +The Master was loyal to his own generous nature. He felt as a peaceful +citizen might feel who had squared off at a stranger for some supposed +wrong, and suddenly discovered that he was undertaking to chastise Mr. +Dick Curtis, "the pet of the Fancy," or Mr. Joshua Hudson; "the John Bull +fighter." + +He felt the absurdity of his discomfiture, for he turned to me +good-naturedly, and said, + + "Poor Johnny Raw! What madness could impel + So rum a flat to face so prime a swell?" + +To tell the truth, I rather think the Master enjoyed his own defeat. The +Scarabee had a right to his victory; a man does not give his life to the +study of a single limited subject for nothing, and the moment we come +across a first-class expert we begin to take a pride in his superiority. +It cannot offend us, who have no right at all to be his match on his own +ground. Besides, there is a very curious sense of satisfaction in +getting a fair chance to sneer at ourselves and scoff at our own +pretensions. The first person of our dual consciousness has been +smirking and rubbing his hands and felicitating himself on his +innumerable superiorities, until we have grown a little tired of him. +Then, when the other fellow, the critic, the cynic, the Shimei, who has +been quiet, letting self-love and self-glorification have their perfect +work, opens fire upon the first half of our personality and overwhelms it +with that wonderful vocabulary of abuse of which he is the unrivalled +master, there is no denying that he enjoys it immensely; and as he is +ourself for the moment, or at least the chief portion of ourself (the +other half-self retiring into a dim corner of semiconsciousness and +cowering under the storm of sneers and contumely,--you follow me +perfectly, Beloved,--the way is as plain as the path of the babe to the +maternal fount), as, I say, the abusive fellow is the chief part of us +for the time, and he likes to exercise his slanderous vocabulary, we on +the whole enjoy a brief season of self-depreciation and self-scolding +very heartily. + +It is quite certain that both of us, the Master and myself, conceived on +the instant a respect for the Scarabee which we had not before felt. He +had grappled with one difficulty at any rate and mastered it. He had +settled one thing, at least, so it appeared, in such a way that it was +not to be brought up again. And now he was determined, if it cost him +the effort of all his remaining days, to close another discussion and put +forever to rest the anxious doubts about the larva of meloe. + +--Your thirty-six dissections must have cost you a deal of time and +labor,--the Master said. + +--What have I to do with time, but to fill it up with labor?--answered +the Scarabee.---It is my meat and drink to work over my beetles. My +holidays are when I get a rare specimen. My rest is to watch the habits +of insects, those that I do not pretend to study. Here is my muscarium, +my home for house-flies; very interesting creatures; here they breed and +buzz and feed and enjoy themselves, and die in a good old age of a few +months. My favorite insect lives in this other case; she is at home, but +in her private-chamber; you shall see her. + +He tapped on the glass lightly, and a large, gray, hairy spider came +forth from the hollow of a funnel-like web. + +--And this is all the friend you have to love? said the Master, with a +tenderness in his voice which made the question very significant. + +--Nothing else loves me better than she does, that I know of,--he +answered. + +--To think of it! Not even a dog to lick his hand, or a cat to purr and +rub her fur against him! Oh, these boarding-houses, these +boarding-houses! What forlorn people one sees stranded on their desolate +shores! Decayed gentlewomen with the poor wrecks of what once made their +households beautiful, disposed around them in narrow chambers as they +best may be, coming down day after day, poor souls! to sit at the board +with strangers; their hearts full of sad memories which have no language +but a sigh, no record but the lines of sorrow on their features; orphans, +creatures with growing tendrils and nothing to cling to; lonely rich men, +casting about them what to do with the wealth they never knew how to +enjoy, when they shall no longer worry over keeping and increasing it; +young men and young women, left to their instincts, unguarded, unwatched, +save by malicious eyes, which are sure to be found and to find occupation +in these miscellaneous collections of human beings; and now and then a +shred of humanity like this little adust specialist, with just the +resources needed to keep the "radical moisture" from entirely exhaling +from his attenuated organism, and busying himself over a point of +science, or compiling a hymn-book, or editing a grammar or a +dictionary;--such are the tenants of boarding-houses whom we cannot think +of without feeling how sad it is when the wind is not tempered to the +shorn lamb; when the solitary, whose hearts are shrivelling, are not set +in families! + +The Master was greatly interested in the Scarabee's Muscarium. + +--I don't remember,--he said,--that I have heard of such a thing as that +before. Mighty curious creatures, these same house-flies! Talk about +miracles! Was there ever anything more miraculous, so far as our common +observation goes, than the coming and the going of these creatures? Why +didn't Job ask where the flies come from and where they go to? I did not +say that you and I don't know, but how many people do know anything about +it? Where are the cradles of the young flies? Where are the cemeteries +of the dead ones, or do they die at all except when we kill them? You +think all the flies of the year are dead and gone, and there comes a warm +day and all at once there is a general resurrection of 'em; they had been +taking a nap, that is all. + +--I suppose you do not trust your spider in the Muscarium?--said I, +addressing the Scarabee. + +--Not exactly,--he answered,--she is a terrible creature. She loves me, +I think, but she is a killer and a cannibal among other insects. I wanted +to pair her with a male spider, but it wouldn't do. + +-Wouldn't do?--said I,--why not? Don't spiders have their mates as well +as other folks? + +-Oh yes, sometimes; but the females are apt to be particular, and if they +don't like the mate you offer them they fall upon him and kill him and +eat him up. You see they are a great deal bigger and stronger than the +males, and they are always hungry and not always particularly anxious to +have one of the other sex bothering round. + +--Woman's rights!--said I,--there you have it! Why don't those talking +ladies take a spider as their emblem? Let them form arachnoid +associations, spinsters and spiders would be a good motto. + +--The Master smiled. I think it was an eleemosynary smile, for my +pleasantry seems to me a particularly basso rilievo, as I look upon it in +cold blood. But conversation at the best is only a thin sprinkling of +occasional felicities set in platitudes and commonplaces. I never heard +people talk like the characters in the "School for Scandal,"--I should +very much like to.---I say the Master smiled. But the Scarabee did not +relax a muscle of his countenance. + +--There are persons whom the very mildest of faecetiae sets off into such +convulsions of laughter, that one is afraid lest they should injure +themselves. Even when a jest misses fire completely, so that it is no +jest at all, but only a jocular intention, they laugh just as heartily. +Leave out the point of your story, get the word wrong on the duplicity of +which the pun that was to excite hilarity depended, and they still honor +your abortive attempt with the most lusty and vociferous merriment. + +There is a very opposite class of persons whom anything in the nature of +a joke perplexes, troubles, and even sometimes irritates, seeming to make +them think they are trifled with, if not insulted. If you are fortunate +enough to set the whole table laughing, one of this class of persons will +look inquiringly round, as if something had happened, and, seeing +everybody apparently amused but himself, feel as if he was being laughed +at, or at any rate as if something had been said which he was not to +hear. Often, however, it does not go so far as this, and there is +nothing more than mere insensibility to the cause of other people's +laughter, a sort of joke-blindness, comparable to the well-known +color-blindness with which many persons are afflicted as a congenital +incapacity. + +I have never seen the Scarabee smile. I have seen him take off his +goggles,--he breakfasts in these occasionally,--I suppose when he has +been tiring his poor old eyes out over night gazing through his +microscope,--I have seen him take his goggles off, I say, and stare about +him, when the rest of us were laughing at something which amused us, but +his features betrayed nothing more than a certain bewilderment, as if we +had been foreigners talking in an unknown tongue. I do not think it was +a mere fancy of mine that he bears a kind of resemblance to the tribe of +insects he gives his life to studying. His shiny black coat; his rounded +back, convex with years of stooping over his minute work; his angular +movements, made natural to him by his habitual style of manipulation; the +aridity of his organism, with which his voice is in perfect keeping;--all +these marks of his special sedentary occupation are so nearly what might +be expected, and indeed so much, in accordance with the more general fact +that a man's aspect is subdued to the look of what he works in, that I do +not feel disposed to accuse myself of exaggeration in my account of the +Scarabee's appearance. But I think he has learned something else of his +coleopterous friends. The beetles never smile. Their physiognomy is not +adapted to the display of the emotions; the lateral movement of their +jaws being effective for alimentary purposes, but very limited in its +gamut of expression. It is with these unemotional beings that the +Scarabee passes his life. He has but one object, and that is perfectly +serious, to his mind, in fact, of absorbing interest and importance. In +one aspect of the matter he is quite right, for if the Creator has taken +the trouble to make one of His creatures in just such a way and not +otherwise, from the beginning of its existence on our planet in ages of +unknown remoteness to the present time, the man who first explains His +idea to us is charged with a revelation. It is by no means impossible +that there may be angels in the celestial hierarchy to whom it would be +new and interesting. I have often thought that spirits of a higher order +than man might be willing to learn something from a human mind like that +of Newton, and I see no reason why an angelic being might not be glad to +hear a lecture from Mr. Huxley, or Mr. Tyndall, or one of our friends at +Cambridge. + +I have been sinuous as the Links of Forth seen from Stirling Castle, or +as that other river which threads the Berkshire valley and runs, a +perennial stream, through my memory,--from which I please myself with +thinking that I have learned to wind without fretting against the shore, +or forgetting cohere I am flowing,--sinuous, I say, but not jerky,--no, +not jerky nor hard to follow for a reader of the right sort, in the prime +of life and full possession of his or her faculties. + +--All this last page or so, you readily understand, has been my private +talk with you, the Reader. The cue of the conversation which I +interrupted by this digression is to be found in the words "a good +motto;" from which I begin my account of the visit again. + +--Do you receive many visitors,--I mean vertebrates, not articulates? +--said the Master. + +I thought this question might perhaps bring il disiato riso, the +long-wished-for smile, but the Scarabee interpreted it in the simplest +zoological sense, and neglected its hint of playfulness with the most +absolute unconsciousness, apparently, of anything not entirely serious +and literal. + +--You mean friends, I suppose,--he answered.--I have correspondents, but +I have no friends except this spider. I live alone, except when I go to +my subsection meetings; I get a box of insects now and then, and send a +few beetles to coleopterists in other entomological districts; but +science is exacting, and a man that wants to leave his record has not +much time for friendship. There is no great chance either for making +friends among naturalists. People that are at work on different things +do not care a great deal for each other's specialties, and people that +work on the same thing are always afraid lest one should get ahead of the +other, or steal some of his ideas before he has made them public. There +are none too many people you can trust in your laboratory. I thought I +had a friend once, but he watched me at work and stole the discovery of a +new species from me, and, what is more, had it named after himself. +Since that time I have liked spiders better than men. They are hungry +and savage, but at any rate they spin their own webs out of their own +insides. I like very well to talk with gentlemen that play with my +branch of entomology; I do not doubt it amused you, and if you want to +see anything I can show you, I shall have no scruple in letting you see +it. I have never had any complaint to make of amatoors. + +--Upon my honor,--I would hold my right hand up and take my Bible-oath, +if it was not busy with the pen at this moment,--I do not believe the +Scarabee had the least idea in the world of the satire on the student of +the Order of Things implied in his invitation to the "amatoor." As for +the Master, he stood fire perfectly, as he always does; but the idea that +he, who had worked a considerable part of several seasons at examining +and preparing insects, who believed himself to have given a new tabanus +to the catalogue of native diptera, the idea that he was playing with +science, and might be trusted anywhere as a harmless amateur, from whom +no expert could possibly fear any anticipation of his unpublished +discoveries, went beyond anything set down in that book of his which +contained so much of the strainings of his wisdom. + +The poor little Scarabee began fidgeting round about this time, and +uttering some half-audible words, apologetical, partly, and involving an +allusion to refreshments. As he spoke, he opened a small cupboard, and +as he did so out bolted an uninvited tenant of the same, long in person, +sable in hue, and swift of movement, on seeing which the Scarabee simply +said, without emotion, blatta, but I, forgetting what was due to good +manners, exclaimed cockroach! + +We could not make up our minds to tax the Scarabee's hospitality, already +levied upon by the voracious articulate. So we both alleged a state of +utter repletion, and did not solve the mystery of the contents of the +cupboard,--not too luxurious, it may be conjectured, and yet kindly +offered, so that we felt there was a moist filament of the social +instinct running like a nerve through that exsiccated and almost +anhydrous organism. + +We left him with professions of esteem and respect which were real. We +had gone, not to scoff, but very probably to smile, and I will not say we +did not. But the Master was more thoughtful than usual. + +--If I had not solemnly dedicated myself to the study of the Order of +Things,--he said,--I do verily believe I would give what remains to me of +life to the investigation of some single point I could utterly eviscerate +and leave finally settled for the instruction and, it may be, the +admiration of all coming time. The keel ploughs ten thousand leagues of +ocean and leaves no trace of its deep-graven furrows. The chisel scars +only a few inches on the face of a rock, but the story it has traced is +read by a hundred generations. The eagle leaves no track of his path, no +memory of the place where he built his nest; but a patient mollusk has +bored a little hole in a marble column of the temple of Serapis, and the +monument of his labor outlasts the altar and the statue of the divinity. + +--Whew!--said I to myself,--that sounds a little like what we college +boys used to call a "squirt."--The Master guessed my thought and said, +smiling, + +--That is from one of my old lectures. A man's tongue wags along quietly +enough, but his pen begins prancing as soon as it touches paper. I know +what you are thinking--you're thinking this is a squirt. That word has +taken the nonsense out of a good many high-stepping fellows. But it did +a good deal of harm too, and it was a vulgar lot that applied it +oftenest. + +I am at last perfectly satisfied that our Landlady has no designs on the +Capitalist, and as well convinced that any fancy of mine that he was like +to make love to her was a mistake. The good woman is too much absorbed +in her children, and more especially in "the Doctor," as she delights to +call her son, to be the prey of any foolish desire of changing her +condition. She is doing very well as it is, and if the young man +succeeds, as I have little question that he will, I think it probable +enough that she will retire from her position as the head of a +boarding-house. We have all liked the good woman who have lived with +her,--I mean we three friends who have put ourselves on record. Her +talk, I must confess, is a little diffuse and not always absolutely +correct, according to the standard of the great Worcester; she is subject +to lachrymose cataclysms and semiconvulsive upheavals when she reverts in +memory to her past trials, and especially when she recalls the virtues of +her deceased spouse, who was, I suspect, an adjunct such as one finds not +rarely annexed to a capable matron in charge of an establishment like +hers; that is to say, an easy-going, harmless, fetch-and-carry, +carve-and-help, get-out-of-the-way kind of neuter, who comes up three +times (as they say drowning people do) every day, namely, at breakfast, +dinner, and tea, and disappears, submerged beneath the waves of life, +during the intervals of these events. + +It is a source of genuine delight to me, who am of a kindly nature +enough, according to my own reckoning, to watch the good woman, and see +what looks of pride and affection she bestows upon her Benjamin, and how, +in spite of herself, the maternal feeling betrays its influence in her +dispensations of those delicacies which are the exceptional element in +our entertainments. I will not say that Benjamin's mess, like his +Scripture namesake's, is five times as large as that of any of the +others, for this would imply either an economical distribution to the +guests in general or heaping the poor young man's plate in a way that +would spoil the appetite of an Esquimau, but you may be sure he fares +well if anybody does; and I would have you understand that our Landlady +knows what is what as well as who is who. + +I begin really to entertain very sanguine expectations of young Doctor +Benjamin Franklin. He has lately been treating a patient of whose +good-will may prove of great importance to him. The Capitalist hurt one +of his fingers somehow or other, and requested our young doctor to take a +look at it. The young doctor asked nothing better than to take charge of +the case, which proved more serious than might have been at first +expected, and kept him in attendance more than a week. There was one +very odd thing about it. The Capitalist seemed to have an idea that he +was like to be ruined in the matter of bandages,--small strips of worn +linen which any old woman could have spared him from her rag-bag, but +which, with that strange perversity which long habits of economy give to +a good many elderly people, he seemed to think were as precious as if +they had been turned into paper and stamped with promises to pay in +thousands, from the national treasury. It was impossible to get this +whim out of him, and the young doctor had tact enough to humor him in it. +All this did not look very promising for the state of mind in which the +patient was like to receive his bill for attendance when that should be +presented. Doctor Benjamin was man enough, however, to come up to the +mark, and sent him in such an account as it was becoming to send a man of +ample means who had been diligently and skilfully cared for. He looked +forward with some uncertainty as to how it would be received. Perhaps +his patient would try to beat him down, and Doctor Benjamin made up his +mind to have the whole or nothing. Perhaps he would pay the whole +amount, but with a look, and possibly a word, that would make every +dollar of it burn like a blister. + +Doctor Benjamin's conjectures were not unnatural, but quite remote from +the actual fact. As soon as his patient had got entirely well, the young +physician sent in his bill. The Capitalist requested him to step into +his room with him, and paid the full charge in the handsomest and most +gratifying way, thanking him for his skill and attention, and assuring +him that he had had great satisfaction in submitting himself to such +competent hands, and should certainly apply to him again in case he +should have any occasion for a medical adviser. We must not be too +sagacious in judging people by the little excrescences of their +character. Ex pede Herculem may often prove safe enough, but ex verruca +Tullium is liable to mislead a hasty judge of his fellow-men. + +I have studied the people called misers and thought a good deal about +them. In former years I used to keep a little gold by me in order to +ascertain for myself exactly the amount of pleasure to be got out of +handling it; this being the traditional delight of the old-fashioned +miser. It is by no means to be despised. Three or four hundred dollars +in double-eagles will do very well to experiment on. There is something +very agreeable in the yellow gleam, very musical in the metallic clink, +very satisfying in the singular weight, and very stimulating in the +feeling that all the world over these same yellow disks are the +master-keys that let one in wherever he wants to go, the servants that +bring him pretty nearly everything he wants, except virtue,--and a good +deal of what passes for that. I confess, then, to an honest liking for +the splendors and the specific gravity and the manifold potentiality of +the royal metal, and I understand, after a certain imperfect fashion, the +delight that an old ragged wretch, starving himself in a crazy hovel, +takes in stuffing guineas into old stockings and filling earthen pots +with sovereigns, and every now and then visiting his hoards and fingering +the fat pieces, and thinking ever all that they represent of earthly and +angelic and diabolic energy. A miser pouring out his guineas into his +palm and bathing his shrivelled and trembling hands in the yellow heaps +before him, is not the prosaic being we are in the habit of thinking him. +He is a dreamer, almost a poet. You and I read a novel or a poem to help +our imaginations to build up palaces, and transport us into the emotional +states and the felicitous conditions of the ideal characters pictured in +the book we are reading. But think of him and the significance of the +symbols he is handling as compared with the empty syllables and words we +are using to build our aerial edifices with! In this hand he holds the +smile of beauty and in that the dagger of revenge. The contents of that +old glove will buy him the willing service of many an adroit sinner, and +with what that coarse sack contains he can purchase the prayers of holy +men for all succeeding time. In this chest is a castle in Spain, a real +one, and not only in Spain, but anywhere he will choose to have it. If +he would know what is the liberality of judgment of any of the straiter +sects, he has only to hand over that box of rouleaux to the trustees of +one of its educational institutions for the endowment of two or three +professorships. If he would dream of being remembered by coming +generations, what monument so enduring as a college building that shall +bear his name, and even when its solid masonry shall crumble give place +to another still charged with the same sacred duty of perpetuating his +remembrance. Who was Sir Matthew Holworthy, that his name is a household +word on the lips of thousands of scholars, and will be centuries hence, +as that of Walter de Merton, dead six hundred years ago, is to-day at +Oxford? Who was Mistress Holden, that she should be blessed among women +by having her name spoken gratefully and the little edifice she caused to +be erected preserved as her monument from generation to generation? All +these possibilities, the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, the +pride of life; the tears of grateful orphans by the gallon; the prayers +of Westminster Assembly's Catechism divines by the thousand; the masses +of priests by the century;--all these things, and more if more there be +that the imagination of a lover of gold is likely to range over, the +miser hears and sees and feels and hugs and enjoys as he paddles with his +lean hands among the sliding, shining, ringing, innocent-looking bits of +yellow metal, toying with them as the lion-tamer handles the great +carnivorous monster, whose might and whose terrors are child's play to +the latent forces and power of harm-doing of the glittering counters +played with in the great game between angels and devils. + +I have seen a good deal of misers, and I think I understand them as well +as most persons do. But the Capitalist's economy in rags and his +liberality to the young doctor are very oddly contrasted with each other. +I should not be surprised at any time to hear that he had endowed a +scholarship or professorship or built a college dormitory, in spite of +his curious parsimony in old linen. + +I do not know where our Young Astronomer got the notions that he +expresses so freely in the lines that follow. I think the statement is +true, however, which I see in one of the most popular Cyclopaedias, that +"the non-clerical mind in all ages is disposed to look favorably upon the +doctrine of the universal restoration to holiness and happiness of all +fallen intelligences, whether human or angelic." Certainly, most of the +poets who have reached the heart of men, since Burns dropped the tear for +poor "auld Nickie-ben" that softened the stony-hearted theology of +Scotland, have had "non-clerical" minds, and I suppose our young friend +is in his humble way an optimist like them. What he says in verse is +very much the same thing as what is said in prose in all companies, and +thought by a great many who are thankful to anybody that will say it for +them,--not a few clerical as wall as "non-clerical" persons among them. + + WIND-CLOUDS AND STAR-DRIFTS. + + V + + What am I but the creature Thou hast made? + What have I save the blessings Thou hast lent? + What hope I but Thy mercy and Thy love? + Who but myself shall cloud my soul with fear? + Whose hand protect me from myself but Thine? + + I claim the rights of weakness, I, the babe, + Call on my sire to shield me from the ills + That still beset my path, not trying me + With snares beyond my wisdom or my strength, + He knowing I shall use them to my harm, + And find a tenfold misery in the sense + That in my childlike folly I have sprung + The trap upon myself as vermin use + Drawn by the cunning bait to certain doom. + Who wrought the wondrous charm that leads us on + To sweet perdition, but the self-same power + That set the fearful engine to destroy + His wretched offspring (as the Rabbis tell), + And hid its yawning jaws and treacherous springs + In such a show of innocent sweet flowers + It lured the sinless angels and they fell? + + Ah! He who prayed the prayer of all mankind + Summed in those few brief words the mightiest plea + For erring souls before the courts of heaven, + Save us from being tempted,--lest we fall! + If we are only as the potter's clay + Made to be fashioned as the artist wills, + And broken into shards if we offend + The eye of Him who made us, it is well; + Such love as the insensate lump of clay + That spins upon the swift-revolving wheel + Bears to the hand that shapes its growing form, + --Such love, no more, will be our hearts' return + To the great Master-workman for his care, + Or would be, save that this, our breathing clay, + Is intertwined with fine innumerous threads + That make it conscious in its framer's hand; + And this He must remember who has filled + These vessels with the deadly draught of life, + Life, that means death to all it claims. Our love + Must kindle in the ray that streams from heaven, + A faint reflection of the light divine; + The sun must warm the earth before the rose + Can show her inmost heart-leaves to the sun. + + He yields some fraction of the Maker's right + Who gives the quivering nerve its sense of pain; + Is there not something in the pleading eye + Of the poor brute that suffers, which arraigns + The law that bids it suffer? Has it not + A claim for some remembrance in the book + That fills its pages with the idle words + Spoken of men? Or is it only clay, + Bleeding and aching in the potter's hand, + Yet all his own to treat it as he will + And when he will to cast it at his feet, + Shattered, dishonored, lost forevermore? + My dog loves me, but could he look beyond + His earthly master, would his love extend + To Him who--Hush! I will not doubt that He + Is better than our fears, and will not wrong + The least, the meanest of created things! + + He would not trust me with the smallest orb + That circles through the sky; he would not give + A meteor to my guidance; would not leave + The coloring of a cloudlet to my hand; + He locks my beating heart beneath its bars + And keeps the key himself; he measures out + The draughts of vital breath that warm my blood, + Winds up the springs of instinct which uncoil, + Each in its season; ties me to my home, + My race, my time, my nation, and my creed + So closely that if I but slip my wrist + Out of the band that cuts it to the bone, + Men say, "He hath a devil"; he has lent + All that I hold in trust, as unto one + By reason of his weakness and his years + Not fit to hold the smallest shred in fee + Of those most common things he calls his own + And yet--my Rabbi tells me--he has left + The care of that to which a million worlds. + Filled with unconscious life were less than naught, + Has left that mighty universe, the Soul, + To the weak guidance of our baby hands, + Turned us adrift with our immortal charge, + Let the foul fiends have access at their will, + Taking the shape of angels, to our hearts, + Our hearts already poisoned through and through + With the fierce virus of ancestral sin. + If what my Rabbi tells me is the truth, + Why did the choir of angels sing for joy? + Heaven must be compassed in a narrow space, + And offer more than room enough for all + That pass its portals; but the underworld, + The godless realm, the place where demons forge + Their fiery darts and adamantine chains, + Must swarm with ghosts that for a little while + Had worn the garb of flesh, and being heirs + Of all the dulness of their stolid sires, + And all the erring instincts of their tribe, + Nature's own teaching, rudiments of "sin," + Fell headlong in the snare that could not fail + To trap the wretched creatures shaped of clay + And cursed with sense enough to lose their souls! + + Brother, thy heart is troubled at my word; + Sister, I see the cloud is on thy brow. + He will not blame me, He who sends not peace, + But sends a sword, and bids us strike amain + At Error's gilded crest, where in the van + Of earth's great army, mingling with the best + And bravest of its leaders, shouting loud + The battle-cries that yesterday have led + The host of Truth to victory, but to-day + Are watchwords of the laggard and the slave, + He leads his dazzled cohorts. God has made + This world a strife of atoms and of spheres; + With every breath I sigh myself away + And take my tribute from the wandering wind + To fan the flame of life's consuming fire; + So, while my thought has life, it needs must burn, + And burning, set the stubble-fields ablaze, + Where all the harvest long ago was reaped + And safely garnered in the ancient barns, + But still the gleaners, groping for their food, + Go blindly feeling through the close-shorn straw, + While the young reapers flash their glittering steel + Where later suns have ripened nobler grain! + +We listened to these lines in silence. They were evidently written +honestly, and with feeling, and no doubt meant to be reverential. I +thought, however, the Lady looked rather serious as he finished reading. +The Young Girl's cheeks were flushed, but she was not in the mood for +criticism. + +As we came away the Master said to me--The stubble-fields are mighty slow +to take fire. These young fellows catch up with the world's ideas one +after another,--they have been tamed a long while, but they find them +running loose in their minds, and think they are ferae naturae. They +remind me of young sportsmen who fire at the first feathers they see, and +bring down a barnyard fowl. But the chicken may be worth bagging for all +that, he said, good-humoredly. + + + + +X + +Caveat Lector. Let the reader look out for himself. The old Master, +whose words I have so frequently quoted and shall quote more of, is a +dogmatist who lays down the law, ex cathedra, from the chair of his own +personality. I do not deny that he has the ambition of knowing something +about a greater number of subjects than any one man ought to meddle with, +except in a very humble and modest way. And that is not his way. There +was no doubt something of, humorous bravado in his saying that the actual +"order of things" did not offer a field sufficiently ample for his +intelligence. But if I found fault with him, which would be easy enough, +I should say that he holds and expresses definite opinions about matters +that he could afford to leave open questions, or ask the judgment of +others about. But I do not want to find fault with him. If he does not +settle all the points he speaks of so authoritatively, he sets me +thinking about them, and I like a man as a companion who is not afraid of +a half-truth. I know he says some things peremptorily that he may +inwardly debate with himself. There are two ways of dealing with +assertions of this kind. One may attack them on the false side and +perhaps gain a conversational victory. But I like better to take them up +on the true side and see how much can be made of that aspect of the +dogmatic assertion. It is the only comfortable way of dealing with +persons like the old Master. + +There have been three famous talkers in Great Britain, either of whom +would illustrate what I say about dogmatists well enough for my purpose. +You cannot doubt to what three I refer: Samuel the First, Samuel the +Second, and Thomas, last of the Dynasty. (I mean the living Thomas and +not Thomas B.) + +I say the last of the Dynasty, for the conversational dogmatist on the +imperial scale becomes every year more and more an impossibility. If he +is in intelligent company he will be almost sure to find some one who +knows more about some of the subjects he generalizes upon than any +wholesale thinker who handles knowledge by the cargo is like to know. I +find myself, at certain intervals, in the society of a number of experts +in science, literature, and art, who cover a pretty wide range, taking +them all together, of human knowledge. I have not the least doubt that +if the great Dr. Samuel Johnson should come in and sit with this company +at one of their Saturday dinners, he would be listened to, as he always +was, with respect and attention. But there are subjects upon which the +great talker could speak magisterially in his time and at his club, upon +which so wise a man would express himself guardedly at the meeting where +I have supposed him a guest. We have a scientific man or two among us, +for instance, who would be entitled to smile at the good Doctor's +estimate of their labors, as I give it here: + +"Of those that spin out life in trifles and die without a memorial, many +flatter themselves with high opinion of their own importance and imagine +that they are every day adding some improvement to human life."--"Some +turn the wheel of electricity, some suspend rings to a loadstone, and +find that what they did yesterday they can do again to-day. Some +register the changes of the wind, and die fully convinced that the wind +is changeable. + +"There are men yet more profound, who have heard that two colorless +liquors may produce a color by union, and that two cold bodies will grow +hot if they are mingled; they mingle them, and produce the effect +expected, say it is strange, and mingle them again." + +I cannot transcribe this extract without an intense inward delight in its +wit and a full recognition of its thorough half-truthfulness. Yet if +while the great moralist is indulging in these vivacities, he can be +imagined as receiving a message from Mr. Boswell or Mrs. Thrale flashed +through the depths of the ocean, we can suppose he might be tempted to +indulge in another oracular utterance, something like this:----A wise +man recognizes the convenience of a general statement, but he bows to the +authority of a particular fact. He who would bound the possibilities of +human knowledge by the limitations of present acquirements would take the +dimensions of the infant in ordering the habiliments of the adult. It is +the province of knowledge to speak and it is the privilege of wisdom to +listen. Will the Professor have the kindness to inform me by what steps +of gradual development the ring and the loadstone, which were but +yesterday the toys of children and idlers, have become the means of +approximating the intelligences of remote continents, and wafting +emotions unchilled through the abysses of the no longer unfathomable +deep? + +--This, you understand, Beloved, is only a conventional imitation of the +Doctor's style of talking. He wrote in grand balanced phrases, but his +conversation was good, lusty, off-hand familiar talk. He used very often +to have it all his own way. If he came back to us we must remember that +to treat him fairly we must suppose him on a level with the knowledge of +our own time. But that knowledge is more specialized, a great deal, than +knowledge was in his day. Men cannot talk about things they have seen +from the outside with the same magisterial authority the talking dynasty +pretended to. The sturdy old moralist felt grand enough, no doubt, when +he said, "He that is growing great and happy by electrifying a bottle +wonders how the world can be engaged by trifling prattle about war or +peace." Benjamin Franklin was one of these idlers who were electrifying +bottles, but he also found time to engage in the trifling prattle about +war and peace going on in those times. The talking Doctor hits him very +hard in "Taxation no Tyranny": "Those who wrote the Address (of the +American Congress in 1775), though they have shown no great extent or +profundity of mind, are yet probably wiser than to believe it: but they +have been taught by some master of mischief how to put in motion the +engine of political electricity; to attract by the sounds of Liberty and +Property, to repel by those of Popery and Slavery; and to give the great +stroke by the name of Boston." The talking dynasty has always been hard +upon us Americans. King Samuel II. says: "It is, I believe, a fact +verified beyond doubt, that some years ago it was impossible to obtain a +copy of the Newgate Calendar, as they had all been bought up by the +Americans, whether to suppress the blazon of their forefathers or to +assist in their genealogical researches I could never learn +satisfactorily." As for King Thomas, the last of the monological +succession, he made such a piece of work with his prophecies and his +sarcasms about our little trouble with some of the Southern States, that +we came rather to pity him for his whims and crotchets than to get angry +with him for calling us bores and other unamiable names. + +I do not think we believe things because considerable people say them, on +personal authority, that is, as intelligent listeners very commonly did a +century ago. The newspapers have lied that belief out of us. Any man +who has a pretty gift of talk may hold his company a little while when +there is nothing better stirring. Every now and then a man who may be +dull enough prevailingly has a passion of talk come over him which makes +him eloquent and silences the rest. I have a great respect for these +divine paroxysms, these half-inspired moments of influx when they seize +one whom we had not counted among the luminaries of the social sphere. +But the man who can--give us a fresh experience on anything that +interests us overrides everybody else. A great peril escaped makes a +great story-teller of a common person enough. I remember when a certain +vessel was wrecked long ago, that one of the survivors told the story as +well as Defoe could have told it. Never a word from him before; never a +word from him since. But when it comes to talking one's common +thoughts,--those that come and go as the breath does; those that tread +the mental areas and corridors with steady, even foot-fall, an +interminable procession of every hue and garb,--there are few, indeed, +that can dare to lift the curtain which hangs before the window in the +breast and throw open the window, and let us look and listen. We are all +loyal enough to our sovereign when he shows himself, but sovereigns are +scarce. I never saw the absolute homage of listeners but once, that I +remember, to a man's common talk, and that was to the conversation of an +old man, illustrious by his lineage and the exalted honors he had won, +whose experience had lessons for the wisest, and whose eloquence had made +the boldest tremble. + +All this because I told you to look out for yourselves and not take for +absolute truth everything the old Master of our table, or anybody else at +it sees fit to utter. At the same time I do not think that he, or any of +us whose conversation I think worth reporting, says anything for the mere +sake of saying it and without thinking that it holds some truth, even if +it is not unqualifiedly true. + +I suppose a certain number of my readers wish very heartily that the +Young Astronomer whose poetical speculations I am recording would stop +trying by searching to find out the Almighty, and sign the thirty-nine +articles, or the Westminster Confession of Faith, at any rate slip his +neck into some collar or other, and pull quietly in the harness, whether +it galled him or not. I say, rather, let him have his talk out; if +nobody else asks the questions he asks, some will be glad to hear them, +but if you, the reader, find the same questions in your own mind, you +need not be afraid to see how they shape themselves in another's +intelligence. Do you recognize the fact that we are living in a new +time? Knowledge--it excites prejudices to call it science--is advancing +as irresistibly, as majestically, as remorselessly as the ocean moves in +upon the shore. The courtiers of King Canute (I am not afraid of the old +comparison), represented by the adherents of the traditional beliefs of +the period, move his chair back an inch at a time, but not until his feet +are pretty damp, not to say wet. The rock on which he sat securely +awhile ago is completely under water. And now people are walking up and +down the beach and judging for themselves how far inland the chair of +King Canute is like to be moved while they and their children are looking +on, at the rate in which it is edging backward. And it is quite too late +to go into hysterics about it. + +The shore, solid, substantial, a great deal more than eighteen hundred +years old, is natural humanity. The beach which the ocean of +knowledge--you may call it science if you like--is flowing over, is +theological humanity. Somewhere between the Sermon on the Mount and the +teachings of Saint Augustine sin was made a transferable chattel. (I +leave the interval wide for others to make narrow.) + +The doctrine of heritable guilt, with its mechanical consequences, has +done for our moral nature what the doctrine of demoniac possession has +done in barbarous times and still does among barbarous tribes for +disease. Out of that black cloud came the lightning which struck the +compass of humanity. Conscience, which from the dawn of moral being had +pointed to the poles of right and wrong only as the great current of will +flowed through the soul, was demagnetized, paralyzed, and knew henceforth +no fixed meridian, but stayed where the priest or the council placed it. +There is nothing to be done but to polarize the needle over again. And +for this purpose we must study the lines of direction of all the forces +which traverse our human nature. + +We must study man as we have studied stars and rocks. We need not go, we +are told, to our sacred books for astronomy or geology or other +scientific knowledge. Do not stop there! Pull Canute's chair back fifty +rods at once, and do not wait until he is wet to the knees! Say now, +bravely, as you will sooner or later have to say, that we need not go to +any ancient records for our anthropology. Do we not all hold, at least, +that the doctrine of man's being a blighted abortion, a miserable +disappointment to his Creator, and hostile and hateful to him from his +birth, may give way to the belief that he is the latest terrestrial +manifestation of an ever upward-striving movement of divine power? If +there lives a man who does not want to disbelieve the popular notions +about the condition and destiny of the bulk of his race, I should like to +have him look me in the face and tell me so. + +I am not writing for the basement story or the nursery, and I do not +pretend to be, but I say nothing in these pages which would not be said +without fear of offence in any intelligent circle, such as clergymen of +the higher castes are in the habit of frequenting. There are teachers in +type for our grandmothers and our grandchildren who vaccinate the two +childhoods with wholesome doctrine, transmitted harmlessly from one +infant to another. But we three men at our table have taken the disease +of thinking in the natural way. It is an epidemic in these times, and +those who are afraid of it must shut themselves up close or they will +catch it. + +I hope none of us are wanting in reverence. One at least of us is a +regular church-goer, and believes a man may be devout and yet very free +in the expression of his opinions on the gravest subjects. There may be +some good people who think that our young friend who puts his thoughts in +verse is going sounding over perilous depths, and are frightened every +time he throws the lead. There is nothing to be frightened at. This is +a manly world we live in. Our reverence is good for nothing if it does +not begin with self-respect. Occidental manhood springs from that as its +basis; Oriental manhood finds the greatest satisfaction in +self-abasement. There is no use in trying to graft the tropical palm +upon the Northern pine. The same divine forces underlie the growth of +both, but leaf and flower and fruit must follow the law of race, of soil, +of climate. Whether the questions which assail my young friend have +risen in my reader's mind or not, he knows perfectly well that nobody can +keep such questions from springing up in every young mind of any force or +honesty. As for the excellent little wretches who grow up in what they +are taught, with never a scruple or a query, Protestant or Catholic, Jew +or Mormon, Mahometan or Buddhist, they signify nothing in the +intellectual life of the race. If the world had been wholly peopled with +such half-vitalized mental negatives, there never would have been a creed +like that of Christendom. + +I entirely agree with the spirit of the verses I have looked over, in +this point at least, that a true man's allegiance is given to that which +is highest in his own nature. He reverences truth, he loves kindness, he +respects justice. The two first qualities he understands well enough. +But the last, justice, at least as between the Infinite and the finite, +has been so utterly dehumanized, disintegrated, decomposed, and +diabolized in passing through the minds of the half-civilized banditti +who have peopled and unpeopled the world for some scores of generations, +that it has become a mere algebraic x, and has no fixed value whatever as +a human conception. + +As for power, we are outgrowing all superstition about that. We have not +the slightest respect for it as such, and it is just as well to remember +this in all our spiritual adjustments. We fear power when we cannot +master it; but just as far as we can master it, we make a slave and a +beast of burden of it without hesitation. We cannot change the ebb and +flow of the tides, or the course of the seasons, but we come as near it +as we can. We dam out the ocean, we make roses bloom in winter and water +freeze in summer. We have no more reverence for the sun than we have for +a fish-tail gas-burner; we stare into his face with telescopes as at a +ballet-dancer with opera-glasses; we pick his rays to pieces with prisms +as if they were so many skeins of colored yarn; we tell him we do not +want his company and shut him out like a troublesome vagrant. The gods +of the old heathen are the servants of to-day. Neptune, Vulcan, Aolus, +and the bearer of the thunderbolt himself have stepped down from their +pedestals and put on our livery. We cannot always master them, neither +can we always master our servant, the horse, but we have put a bridle on +the wildest natural agencies. The mob of elemental forces is as noisy +and turbulent as ever, but the standing army of civilization keeps it +well under, except for an occasional outbreak. + +When I read the Lady's letter printed some time since, I could not help +honoring the feeling which prompted her in writing it. But while I +respect the innocent incapacity of tender age and the limitations of the +comparatively uninstructed classes, it is quite out of the question to +act as if matters of common intelligence and universal interest were the +private property of a secret society, only to be meddled with by those +who know the grip and the password. + +We must get over the habit of transferring the limitations of the nervous +temperament and of hectic constitutions to the great Source of all the +mighty forces of nature, animate and inanimate. We may confidently trust +that we have over us a Being thoroughly robust and grandly magnanimous, +in distinction from the Infinite Invalid bred in the studies of sickly +monomaniacs, who corresponds to a very common human type, but makes us +blush for him when we contrast him with a truly noble man, such as most +of us have had the privilege of knowing both in public and in private +life. + +I was not a little pleased to find that the Lady, in spite of her letter, +sat through the young man's reading of portions of his poem with a good +deal of complacency. I think I can guess what is in her mind. She +believes, as so many women do, in that great remedy for discontent, and +doubts about humanity, and questionings of Providence, and all sorts of +youthful vagaries,--I mean the love-cure. And she thinks, not without +some reason, that these astronomical lessons, and these readings of +poetry and daily proximity at the table, and the need of two young hearts +that have been long feeling lonely, and youth and nature and "all +impulses of soul and sense," as Coleridge has it, will bring these two +young people into closer relations than they perhaps have yet thought of; +and so that sweet lesson of loving the neighbor whom he has seen may lead +him into deeper and more trusting communion with the Friend and Father +whom he has not seen. + +The Young Girl evidently did not intend that her accomplice should be a +loser by the summary act of the Member of the Haouse: I took occasion to +ask That Boy what had become of all the popguns. He gave me to +understand that popguns were played out, but that he had got a squirt and +a whip, and considered himself better off than before. + +This great world is full of mysteries. I can comprehend the pleasure to +be got out of the hydraulic engine; but what can be the fascination of a +whip, when one has nothing to flagellate but the calves of his own legs, +I could never understand. Yet a small riding-whip is the most popular +article with the miscellaneous New-Englander at all great +gatherings,--cattle-shows and Fourth-of-July celebrations. If Democritus +and Heraclitus could walk arm in arm through one of these crowds, the +first would be in a broad laugh to see the multitude of young persons who +were rejoicing in the possession of one of these useless and worthless +little commodities; happy himself to see how easily others could purchase +happiness. But the second would weep bitter tears to think what a +rayless and barren life that must be which could extract enjoyment from +the miserable flimsy wand that has such magic attraction for sauntering +youths and simpering maidens. What a dynamometer of happiness are these +paltry toys, and what a rudimentary vertebrate must be the freckled +adolescent whose yearning for the infinite can be stayed even for a +single hour by so trifling a boon from the venal hands of the finite! + +Pardon these polysyllabic reflections, Beloved, but I never contemplate +these dear fellow-creatures of ours without a delicious sense of +superiority to them and to all arrested embryos of intelligence, in which +I have no doubt you heartily sympathize with me. It is not merely when I +look at the vacuous countenances of the mastigophori, the whip-holders, +that I enjoy this luxury (though I would not miss that holiday spectacle +for a pretty sum of money, and advise you by all means to make sure of it +next Fourth of July, if you missed it this), but I get the same pleasure +from many similar manifestations. + +I delight in Regalia, so called, of the kind not worn by kings, nor +obtaining their diamonds from the mines of Golconda. I have a passion +for those resplendent titles which are not conferred by a sovereign and +would not be the open sesame to the courts of royalty, yet which are as +opulent in impressive adjectives as any Knight of the Garter's list of +dignities. When I have recognized in the every-day name of His Very +Worthy High Eminence of some cabalistic association, the inconspicuous +individual whose trifling indebtedness to me for value received remains +in a quiescent state and is likely long to continue so, I confess to +having experienced a thrill of pleasure. I have smiled to think how +grand his magnificent titular appendages sounded in his own ears and what +a feeble tintinnabulation they made in mine. The crimson sash, the broad +diagonal belt of the mounted marshal of a great procession, so cheap in +themselves, yet so entirely satisfactory to the wearer, tickle my heart's +root. + +Perhaps I should have enjoyed all these weaknesses of my infantile +fellow-creatures without an afterthought, except that on a certain +literary anniversary when I tie the narrow blue and pink ribbons in my +button-hole and show my decorated bosom to the admiring public, I am +conscious of a certain sense of distinction and superiority in virtue of +that trifling addition to my personal adornments which reminds me that I +too have some embryonic fibres in my tolerably well-matured organism. + +I hope I have not hurt your feelings, if you happen to be a High and +Mighty Grand Functionary in any illustrious Fraternity. When I tell you +that a bit of ribbon in my button-hole sets my vanity prancing, I think +you cannot be grievously offended that I smile at the resonant titles +which make you something more than human in your own eyes. I would not +for the world be mistaken for one of those literary roughs whose brass +knuckles leave their mark on the foreheads of so many inoffensive people. + +There is a human sub-species characterized by the coarseness of its fibre +and the acrid nature of its intellectual secretions. It is to a certain +extent penetrative, as all creatures are which are provided with stings. +It has an instinct which guides it to the vulnerable parts of the victim +on which it fastens. These two qualities give it a certain degree of +power which is not to be despised. It might perhaps be less mischievous, +but for the fact that the wound where it leaves its poison opens the +fountain from which it draws its nourishment. + +Beings of this kind can be useful if they will only find their +appropriate sphere, which is not literature, but that circle of +rough-and-tumble political life where the fine-fibred men are at a +discount, where epithets find their subjects poison-proof, and the sting +which would be fatal to a literary debutant only wakes the eloquence of +the pachydermatous ward-room politician to a fiercer shriek of +declamation. + +The Master got talking the other day about the difference between races +and families. I am reminded of what he said by what I have just been +saying myself about coarse-fibred and fine-fibred people. + +--We talk about a Yankee, a New-Englander,---he said,-as if all of 'em +were just the same kind of animal. "There is knowledge and knowledge," +said John Bunyan. There are Yankees and Yankees. Do you know two native +trees called pitch pine and white pine respectively? Of course you know +'em. Well, there are pitch-pine Yankees and white-pine Yankees. We +don't talk about the inherited differences of men quite as freely, +perhaps, as they do in the Old World, but republicanism doesn't alter the +laws of physiology. We have a native aristocracy, a superior race, just +as plainly marked by nature as of a higher and finer grade than the +common run of people as the white pine is marked in its form, its +stature, its bark, its delicate foliage, as belonging to the nobility of +the forest; and the pitch pine, stubbed, rough, coarse-haired, as of the +plebeian order. Only the strange thing is to see in what a capricious +way our natural nobility is distributed. The last born nobleman I have +seen, I saw this morning; he was pulling a rope that was fastened to a +Maine schooner loaded with lumber. I should say he was about twenty +years old, as fine a figure of a young man as you would ask to see, and +with a regular Greek outline of countenance, waving hair, that fell as if +a sculptor had massed it to copy, and a complexion as rich as a red +sunset. I have a notion that the State of Maine breeds the natural +nobility in a larger proportion than some other States, but they spring +up in all sorts of out-of-the-way places. The young fellow I saw this +morning had on an old flannel shirt, a pair of trowsers that meant hard +work, and a cheap cloth cap pushed back on his head so as to let the +large waves of hair straggle out over his forehead; he was tugging at his +rope with the other sailors, but upon my word I don't think I have seen a +young English nobleman of all those whom I have looked upon that answered +to the notion of "blood" so well as this young fellow did. I suppose if +I made such a levelling confession as this in public, people would think +I was looking towards being the labor-reform candidate for President. +But I should go on and spoil my prospects by saying that I don't think +the white-pine Yankee is the more generally prevailing growth, but rather +the pitch-pine Yankee. + +--The Member of the Haouse seemed to have been getting a dim idea that +all this was not exactly flattering to the huckleberry districts. His +features betrayed the growth of this suspicion so clearly that the Master +replied to his look as if it had been a remark. [I need hardly say that +this particular member of the General Court was a pitch-pine Yankee of +the most thoroughly characterized aspect and flavor.] + +--Yes, Sir,--the Master continued,--Sir being anybody that listened, +--there is neither flattery nor offence in the views which a +physiological observer takes of the forms of life around him. It won't +do to draw individual portraits, but the differences of natural groups of +human beings are as proper subjects of remark as those of different +breeds of horses, and if horses were Houyhnhnms I don't think they would +quarrel with us because we made a distinction between a "Morgan" and a +"Messenger." The truth is, Sir, the lean sandy soil and the droughts and +the long winters and the east-winds and the cold storms, and all sorts of +unknown local influences that we can't make out quite so plainly as +these, have a tendency to roughen the human organization and make it +coarse, something as it is with the tree I mentioned. Some spots and +some strains of blood fight against these influences, but if I should say +right out what I think, it would be that the finest human fruit, on the +whole; and especially the finest women that we get in New England are +raised under glass. + +--Good gracious!--exclaimed the Landlady, under glass! + +--Give me cowcumbers raised in the open air, said the Capitalist, who was +a little hard of hearing. + +--Perhaps,--I remarked,--it might be as well if you would explain this +last expression of yours. Raising human beings under glass I take to be +a metaphorical rather than a literal statement of your meaning. + +--No, Sir!--replied the Master, with energy,--I mean just what I say, +Sir. Under glass, and with a south exposure. During the hard season, of +course,--for in the heats of summer the tenderest hot-house plants are +not afraid of the open air. Protection is what the transplanted Aryan +requires in this New England climate. Keep him, and especially keep her, +in a wide street of a well-built city eight months of the year; good +solid brick walls behind her, good sheets of plate-glass, with the sun +shining warm through them, in front of her, and you have put her in the +condition of the pine-apple, from the land of which, and not from that of +the other kind of pine, her race started on its travels. People don't +know what a gain there is to health by living in cities, the best parts +of them of course, for we know too well what the worst parts are. In the +first place you get rid of the noxious emanations which poison so many +country localities with typhoid fever and dysentery, not wholly rid of +them, of course, but to a surprising degree. Let me tell you a doctor's +story. I was visiting a Western city a good many years ago; it was in +the autumn, the time when all sorts of malarious diseases are about. The +doctor I was speaking of took me to see the cemetery just outside the +town, I don't know how much he had done to fill it, for he didn't tell +me, but I'll tell you what he did say. + +"Look round," said the doctor. "There isn't a house in all the ten-mile +circuit of country you can see over, where there isn't one person, at +least, shaking with fever and ague. And yet you need n't be afraid of +carrying it away with you, for as long as your home is on a paved street +you are safe." + +--I think it likely--the Master went on to say--that my friend the doctor +put it pretty strongly, but there is no doubt at all that while all the +country round was suffering from intermittent fever, the paved part of +the city was comparatively exempted. What do you do when you build a +house on a damp soil, and there are damp soils pretty much everywhere? +Why you floor the cellar with cement, don't you? Well, the soil of a +city is cemented all over, one may say, with certain qualifications of +course. A first-rate city house is a regular sanatorium. The only +trouble is, that the little good-for-nothings that come of utterly +used-up and worn-out stock, and ought to die, can't die, to save their +lives. So they grow up to dilute the vigor of the race with skim-milk +vitality. They would have died, like good children, in most average +country places; but eight months of shelter in a regulated temperature, +in a well-sunned house, in a duly moistened air, with good sidewalks to +go about on in all weather, and four months of the cream of summer and +the fresh milk of Jersey cows, make the little sham organizations--the +worm-eaten wind-falls, for that 's what they look like--hang on to the +boughs of life like "froze-n-thaws"; regular struldbrugs they come to be, +a good many of 'em. + +--The Scarabee's ear was caught by that queer word of Swift's, and he +asked very innocently what kind of bugs he was speaking of, whereupon +That Boy shouted out, Straddlebugs! to his own immense amusement and the +great bewilderment of the Scarabee, who only saw that there was one of +those unintelligible breaks in the conversation which made other people +laugh, and drew back his antennae as usual, perplexed, but not amused. + +I do not believe the Master had said all he was going to say on this +subject, and of course all these statements of his are more or less +one-sided. But that some invalids do much better in cities than in the +country is indisputable, and that the frightful dysenteries and fevers +which have raged like pestilences in many of our country towns are almost +unknown in the better built sections of some of our large cities is +getting to be more generally understood since our well-to-do people have +annually emigrated in such numbers from the cemented surface of the city +to the steaming soil of some of the dangerous rural districts. If one +should contrast the healthiest country residences with the worst city +ones the result would be all the other way, of course, so that there are +two sides to the question, which we must let the doctors pound in their +great mortar, infuse and strain, hoping that they will present us with +the clear solution when they have got through these processes. One of +our chief wants is a complete sanitary map of every State in the Union. + +The balance of our table, as the reader has no doubt observed, has been +deranged by the withdrawal of the Man of Letters, so called, and only the +side of the deficiency changed by the removal of the Young Astronomer +into our neighborhood. The fact that there was a vacant chair on the +side opposite us had by no means escaped the notice of That Boy. He had +taken advantage of his opportunity and invited in a schoolmate whom he +evidently looked upon as a great personage. This boy or youth was a good +deal older than himself and stood to him apparently in the light of a +patron and instructor in the ways of life. A very jaunty, knowing young +gentleman he was, good-looking, smartly dressed, smooth-checked as yet, +curly-haired, with a roguish eye, a sagacious wink, a ready tongue, as I +soon found out; and as I learned could catch a ball on the fly with any +boy of his age; not quarrelsome, but, if he had to strike, hit from the +shoulder; the pride of his father (who was a man of property and a civic +dignitary), and answering to the name of Johnny. + +I was a little surprised at the liberty That Boy had taken in introducing +an extra peptic element at our table, reflecting as I did that a certain +number of avoirdupois ounces of nutriment which the visitor would dispose +of corresponded to a very appreciable pecuniary amount, so that he was +levying a contribution upon our Landlady which she might be inclined to +complain of. For the Caput mortuum (or deadhead, in vulgar phrase) is +apt to be furnished with a Venter vivus, or, as we may say, a lively +appetite. But the Landlady welcomed the new-comer very heartily. + +--Why! how--do--you--do Johnny?! with the notes of interrogation and of +admiration both together, as here represented. + +Johnny signified that he was doing about as well as could be expected +under the circumstances, having just had a little difference with a young +person whom he spoke of as "Pewter-jaw" (I suppose he had worn a +dentist's tooth-straightening contrivance during his second dentition), +which youth he had finished off, as he said, in good shape, but at the +expense of a slight epistaxis, we will translate his vernacular +expression. + +--The three ladies all looked sympathetic, but there did not seem to be +any great occasion for it, as the boy had come out all right, and seemed +to be in the best of spirits. + +-And how is your father and your mother? asked the Landlady. + +-Oh, the Governor and the Head Centre? A 1, both of 'em. Prime order +for shipping,--warranted to stand any climate. The Governor says he +weighs a hunderd and seventy-five pounds. Got a chin-tuft just like +Ed'in Forrest. D'd y' ever see Ed'in Forrest play Metamora? Bully, I +tell you! My old gentleman means to be Mayor or Governor or President or +something or other before he goes off the handle, you'd better b'lieve. +He's smart,--and I've heard folks say I take after him. + +--Somehow or other I felt as if I had seen this boy before, or known +something about him. Where did he get those expressions "A 1" and +"prime" and so on? They must have come from somebody who has been in the +retail dry-goods business, or something of that nature. I have certain +vague reminiscences that carry me back to the early times of this +boardinghouse.---Johnny.---Landlady knows his father well. + +---Boarded with her, no doubt.---There was somebody by the name of John, +I remember perfectly well, lived with her. I remember both my friends +mentioned him, one of them very often. I wonder if this boy isn't a son +of his! I asked the Landlady after breakfast whether this was not, as I +had suspected, the son of that former boarder. + +--To be sure he is,--she answered,--and jest such a good-natur'd sort of +creatur' as his father was. I always liked John, as we used to call his +father. He did love fun, but he was a good soul, and stood by me when I +was in trouble, always. He went into business on his own account after a +while, and got merried, and settled down into a family man. They tell me +he is an amazing smart business man,--grown wealthy, and his wife's +father left her money. But I can't help calling him John,--law, we never +thought of calling him anything else, and he always laughs and says, +"That's right." This is his oldest son, and everybody calls him Johnny. +That Boy of ours goes to the same school with his boy, and thinks there +never was anybody like him,--you see there was a boy undertook to impose +on our boy, and Johnny gave the other boy a good licking, and ever since +that he is always wanting to have Johnny round with him and bring him +here with him,--and when those two boys get together, there never was +boys that was so chock full of fun and sometimes mischief, but not very +bad mischief, as those two boys be. But I like to have him come once in +a while when there is room at the table, as there is now, for it puts me +in mind of the old times, when my old boarders was all round me, that I +used to think so much of,--not that my boarders that I have now a'nt very +nice people, but I did think a dreadful sight of the gentleman that made +that first book; it helped me on in the world more than ever he knew +of,--for it was as good as one of them Brandreth's pills advertisements, +and did n't cost me a cent, and that young lady he merried too, she was +nothing but a poor young schoolma'am when she come to my house, and +now--and she deserved it all too; for she was always just the same, rich +or poor, and she is n't a bit prouder now she wears a camel's-hair shawl, +than she was when I used to lend her a woollen one to keep her poor dear +little shoulders warm when she had to go out and it was storming,--and +then there was that old gentleman,--I can't speak about him, for I never +knew how good he was till his will was opened, and then it was too late +to thank him.... + +I respected the feeling which caused the interval of silence, and found +my own eyes moistened as I remembered how long it was since that friend +of ours was sitting in the chair where I now sit, and what a tidal wave +of change has swept over the world and more especially over this great +land of ours, since he opened his lips and found so many kind listeners. + +The Young Astronomer has read us another extract from his manuscript. I +ran my eye over it, and so far as I have noticed it is correct enough in +its versification. I suppose we are getting gradually over our +hemispherical provincialism, which allowed a set of monks to pull their +hoods over our eyes and tell us there was no meaning in any religious +symbolism but our own. If I am mistaken about this advance I am very +glad to print the young man's somewhat outspoken lines to help us in that +direction. + + WIND-CLOUDS AND STAR-DRIFTS. + + VI + + The time is racked with birth-pangs; every hour + Brings forth some gasping truth, and truth new-born + Looks a misshapen and untimely growth, + The terror of the household and its shame, + A monster coiling in its nurse's lap + That some would strangle, some would only starve; + But still it breathes, and passed from hand to hand, + And suckled at a hundred half-clad breasts, + Comes slowly to its stature and its form, + Calms the rough ridges of its dragon-scales, + Changes to shining locks its snaky hair, + And moves transfigured into angel guise, + Welcomed by all that cursed its hour of birth, + And folded in the same encircling arms + That cast it like a serpent from their hold! + + If thou wouldst live in honor, die in peace, + Have the fine words the marble-workers learn + To carve so well, upon thy funeral-stone, + And earn a fair obituary, dressed + In all the many-colored robes of praise, + Be deafer than the adder to the cry + Of that same foundling truth, until it grows + To seemly favor, and at length has won + The smiles of hard-mouthed men and light-upped dames, + Then snatch it from its meagre nurse's breast, + Fold it in silk and give it food from gold; + So shalt thou share its glory when at last + It drops its mortal vesture, and revealed + In all the splendor of its heavenly form, + Spreads on the startled air its mighty wings! + + Alas! how much that seemed immortal truth + That heroes fought for, martyrs died to save, + Reveals its earth-born lineage, growing old + And limping in its march, its wings unplumed, + Its heavenly semblance faded like a dream! + + Here in this painted casket, just unsealed, + Lies what was once a breathing shape like thine, + Once loved as thou art loved; there beamed the eyes + That looked on Memphis in its hour of pride, + That saw the walls of hundred-gated Thebes, + And all the mirrored glories of the Nile. + See how they toiled that all-consuming time + Might leave the frame immortal in its tomb; + Filled it with fragrant balms and odorous gums + That still diffuse their sweetness through the air, + And wound and wound with patient fold on fold + The flaxen bands thy hand has rudely torn! + Perchance thou yet canst see the faded stain + Of the sad mourner's tear. + + But what is this? + The sacred beetle, bound upon the breast + Of the blind heathen! Snatch the curious prize, + Give it a place among thy treasured spoils + Fossil and relic,--corals, encrinites, + The fly in amber and the fish in stone, + The twisted circlet of Etruscan gold, + Medal, intaglio, poniard, poison-ring, + --Place for the Memphian beetle with thine hoard! + + Ah! longer than thy creed has blest the world + This toy, thus ravished from thy brother's breast, + Was to the heart of Mizraim as divine, + As holy, as the symbol that we lay + On the still bosom of our white-robed dead, + And raise above their dust that all may know + Here sleeps an heir of glory. Loving friends, + With tears of trembling faith and choking sobs, + And prayers to those who judge of mortal deeds, + Wrapped this poor image in the cerement's fold + That Isis and Osiris, friends of man, + Might know their own and claim the ransomed soul + + An idol? Man was born to worship such! + An idol is an image of his thought; + Sometimes he carves it out of gleaming stone, + And sometimes moulds it out of glittering gold, + Or rounds it in a mighty frescoed dome, + Or lifts it heavenward in a lofty spire, + Or shapes it in a cunning frame of words, + Or pays his priest to make it day by day; + For sense must have its god as well as soul; + A new-born Dian calls for silver shrines, + And Egypt's holiest symbol is our own, + The sign we worship as did they of old + When Isis and Osiris ruled the world. + + Let us be true to our most subtle selves, + We long to have our idols like the rest. + Think! when the men of Israel had their God + Encamped among them, talking with their chief, + Leading them in the pillar of the cloud + And watching o'er them in the shaft of fire, + They still must have an image; still they longed + For somewhat of substantial, solid form + Whereon to hang their garlands, and to fix + Their wandering thoughts, and gain a stronger hold + For their uncertain faith, not yet assured + If those same meteors of the day and night + Were not mere exhalations of the soil. + + Are we less earthly than the chosen race? + Are we more neighbors of the living God + Than they who gathered manna every morn, + Reaping where none had sown, and heard the voice + Of him who met the Highest in the mount, + And brought them tables, graven with His hand? + Yet these must have their idol, brought their gold, + That star-browed Apis might be god again; + Yea, from their ears the women brake the rings + That lent such splendors to the gypsy brown + Of sunburnt cheeks,--what more could woman do + To show her pious zeal? They went astray, + But nature led them as it leads us all. + + We too, who mock at Israel's golden calf + And scoff at Egypt's sacred scarabee, + Would have our amulets to clasp and kiss, + And flood with rapturous tears, and bear with us + To be our dear companions in the dust, + Such magic works an image in our souls! + + Man is an embryo; see at twenty years + His bones, the columns that uphold his frame + Not yet cemented, shaft and capital, + Mere fragments of the temple incomplete. + At twoscore, threescore, is he then full grown? + Nay, still a child, and as the little maids + Dress and undress their puppets, so he tries + To dress a lifeless creed, as if it lived, + And change its raiment when the world cries shame! + We smile to see our little ones at play + So grave, so thoughtful, with maternal care + Nursing the wisps of rags they call their babes; + Does He not smile who sees us with the toys + We call by sacred names, and idly feign + To be what we have called them? + He is still The Father of this helpless nursery-brood, + Whose second childhood joins so close its first, + That in the crowding, hurrying years between + We scarce have trained our senses to their task + Before the gathering mist has dimmed our eyes, + And with our hollowed palm we help our ear, + And trace with trembling hand our wrinkled names, + And then begin to tell our stories o'er, + And see--not hear-the whispering lips that say, + "You know--? Your father knew him.--This is he, + Tottering and leaning on the hireling's arm,--" + And so, at length, disrobed of all that clad + The simple life we share with weed and worm, + Go to our cradles, naked as we came. + + + + +XI + +I suppose there would have been even more remarks upon the growing +intimacy of the Young Astronomer and his pupil, if the curiosity of the +boarders had not in the mean time been so much excited at the apparently +close relation which had sprung up between the Register of Deeds and the +Lady. It was really hard to tell what to make of it. The Register +appeared at the table in a new coat. Suspicious. The Lady was evidently +deeply interested in him, if we could judge by the frequency and the +length of their interviews. On at least one occasion he has brought a +lawyer with him, which naturally suggested the idea that there were some +property arrangements to be attended to, in case, as seems probable +against all reasons to the contrary, these two estimable persons, so +utterly unfitted, as one would say, to each other, contemplated an +alliance. It is no pleasure to me to record an arrangement of this kind. +I frankly confess I do not know what to make of it. With her tastes and +breeding, it is the last thing that I should have thought of,--her +uniting herself with this most commonplace and mechanical person, who +cannot even offer her the elegances and luxuries to which she might seem +entitled on changing her condition. + +While I was thus interested and puzzled I received an unexpected visit +from our Landlady. She was evidently excited, and by some event which +was of a happy nature, for her countenance was beaming and she seemed +impatient to communicate what she had to tell. Impatient or not, she must +wait a moment, while I say a word about her. Our Landlady is as good a +creature as ever lived. She is a little negligent of grammar at times, +and will get a wrong word now and then; she is garrulous, circumstantial, +associates facts by their accidental cohesion rather than by their vital +affinities, is given to choking and tears on slight occasions, but she +has a warm heart, and feels to her boarders as if they were her +blood-relations. She began her conversation abruptly.--I expect I'm a +going to lose one of my boarders,--she said. + +--You don't seem very unhappy about it, madam,--I answered.---We all took +it easily when the person who sat on our side of the table quitted us in +such a hurry, but I do not think there is anybody left that either you or +the boarders want to get rid of--unless it is myself,--I added modestly. + +--You! said the Landlady--you! No indeed. When I have a quiet boarder +that 's a small eater, I don't want to lose him. You don't make trouble, +you don't find fault with your vit--[Dr. Benjamin had schooled his parent +on this point and she altered the word] with your food, and you know when +you 've had enough. + +--I really felt proud of this eulogy, which embraces the most desirable +excellences of a human being in the capacity of boarder. + +The Landlady began again.--I'm going to lose--at least, I suppose I +shall--one of the best boarders I ever had,--that Lady that's been with +me so long. + +--I thought there was something going on between her and the Register,--I +said. + +--Something! I should think there was! About three months ago he began +making her acquaintance. I thought there was something particular. I +did n't quite like to watch 'em very close; but I could n't help +overbearing some of the things he said to her, for, you see, he used to +follow her up into the parlor, they talked pretty low, but I could catch +a word now and then. I heard him say something to her one day about +"bettering her condition," and she seemed to be thinking very hard about +it, and turning of it over in her mind, and I said to myself, She does +n't want to take up with him, but she feels dreadful poor, and perhaps he +has been saving and has got money in the bank, and she does n't want to +throw away a chance of bettering herself without thinking it over. But +dear me,--says I to myself,--to think of her walking up the broad aisle +into meeting alongside of such a homely, rusty-looking creatur' as that! +But there 's no telling what folks will do when poverty has got hold of +'em. + +--Well, so I thought she was waiting to make up her mind, and he was +hanging on in hopes she'd come round at last, as women do half the time, +for they don't know their own minds and the wind blows both ways at once +with 'em as the smoke blows out of the tall chimlies,--east out of this +one and west out of that,--so it's no use looking at 'em to know what the +weather is. + +--But yesterday she comes up to me after breakfast, and asks me to go up +with her into her little room. Now, says I to myself, I shall hear all +about it. I saw she looked as if she'd got some of her trouble off her +mind, and I guessed that it was settled, and so, says I to myself, I must +wish her joy and hope it's all for the best, whatever I think about it. + +--Well, she asked me to set down, and then she begun. She said that she +was expecting to have a change in her condition of life, and had asked me +up so that I might' have the first news of it. I am sure--says I--I +wish you both joy. Merriage is a blessed thing when folks is well +sorted, and it is an honorable thing, and the first meracle was at the +merriage in Canaan. It brings a great sight of happiness with it, as +I've had a chance of knowing, for my hus-- + +The Landlady showed her usual tendency to "break" from the conversational +pace just at this point, but managed to rein in the rebellious diaphragm, +and resumed her narrative. + +--Merriage!--says she,--pray who has said anything about merriage?--I +beg your pardon, ma'am,--says I,--I thought you had spoke of changing +your condition and I--She looked so I stopped right short. + +-Don't say another word, says she, but jest listen to what I am going to +tell you. + +--My friend, says she, that you have seen with me so often lately, was +hunting among his old Record books, when all at once he come across an +old deed that was made by somebody that had my family name. He took it +into his head to read it over, and he found there was some kind of a +condition that if it was n't kept, the property would all go back to them +that was the heirs of the one that gave the deed, and that he found out +was me. Something or other put it into his head, says she, that the +company that owned the property--it was ever so rich a company and owned +land all round everywhere--hadn't kept to the conditions. So he went to +work, says she, and hunted through his books and he inquired all round, +and he found out pretty much all about it, and at last he come to me--it +'s my boarder, you know, that says all this--and says he, Ma'am, says he, +if you have any kind of fancy for being a rich woman you've only got to +say so. I didn't know what he meant, and I began to think, says she, he +must be crazy. But he explained it all to me, how I'd nothing to do but +go to court and I could get a sight of property back. Well, so she went +on telling me--there was ever so much more that I suppose was all plain +enough, but I don't remember it all--only I know my boarder was a good +deal worried at first at the thought of taking money that other people +thought was theirs, and the Register he had to talk to her, and he +brought a lawyer and he talked to her, and her friends they talked to +her, and the upshot of it all was that the company agreed to settle the +business by paying her, well, I don't know just how much, but enough to +make her one of the rich folks again. + +I may as well add here that, as I have since learned, this is one of the +most important cases of releasing right of reentry for condition broken +which has been settled by arbitration for a considerable period. If I am +not mistaken the Register of Deeds will get something more than a new +coat out of this business, for the Lady very justly attributes her change +of fortunes to his sagacity and his activity in following up the hint he +had come across by mere accident. + +So my supernumerary fellow-boarder, whom I would have dispensed with as a +cumberer of the table, has proved a ministering angel to one of the +personages whom I most cared for. + +One would have thought that the most scrupulous person need not have +hesitated in asserting an unquestioned legal and equitable claim simply +because it had lain a certain number of years in abeyance. But before the +Lady could make up her mind to accept her good fortune she had been kept +awake many nights in doubt and inward debate whether she should avail +herself of her rights. If it had been private property, so that another +person must be made poor that she should become rich, she would have +lived and died in want rather than claim her own. I do not think any of +us would like to turn out the possessor of a fine estate enjoyed for two +or three generations on the faith of unquestioned ownership by making use +of some old forgotten instrument, which accident had thrown in our way. + +But it was all nonsense to indulge in any sentiment in a case like this, +where it was not only a right, but a duty which she owed herself and +others in relation with her, to accept what Providence, as it appeared, +had thrust upon her, and when no suffering would be occasioned to +anybody. Common sense told her not to refuse it. So did several of her +rich friends, who remembered about this time that they had not called +upon her for a good while, and among them Mrs. Midas Goldenrod. + +Never had that lady's carriage stood before the door of our +boarding-house so long, never had it stopped so often, as since the +revelation which had come from the Registry of Deeds. Mrs. Midas +Goldenrod was not a bad woman, but she loved and hated in too exclusive +and fastidious a way to allow us to consider her as representing the +highest ideal of womanhood. She hated narrow ill-ventilated courts, +where there was nothing to see if one looked out of the window but old +men in dressing-gowns and old women in caps; she hated little dark rooms +with air-tight stoves in them; she hated rusty bombazine gowns and last +year's bonnets; she hated gloves that were not as fresh as new-laid eggs, +and shoes that had grown bulgy and wrinkled in service; she hated common +crockeryware and teaspoons of slight constitution; she hated second +appearances on the dinner-table; she hated coarse napkins and +table-cloths; she hated to ride in the horsecars; she hated to walk +except for short distances, when she was tired of sitting in her +carriage. She loved with sincere and undisguised affection a spacious +city mansion and a charming country villa, with a seaside cottage for a +couple of months or so; she loved a perfectly appointed household, a cook +who was up to all kinds of salmis and vol-au-vents, a French maid, and a +stylish-looking coachman, and the rest of the people necessary to help +one live in a decent manner; she loved pictures that other people said +were first-rate, and which had at least cost first-rate prices; she loved +books with handsome backs, in showy cases; she loved heavy and richly +wought plate; fine linen and plenty of it; dresses from Paris frequently, +and as many as could be got in without troubling the customhouse; Russia +sables and Venetian point-lace; diamonds, and good big ones; and, +speaking generally, she loved dear things in distinction from cheap ones, +the real article and not the economical substitute. + +For the life of me I cannot see anything Satanic in all this. Tell me, +Beloved, only between ourselves, if some of these things are not +desirable enough in their way, and if you and I could not make up our +minds to put up with some of the least objectionable of them without any +great inward struggle? Even in the matter of ornaments there is +something to be said. Why should we be told that the New Jerusalem is +paved with gold, and that its twelve gates are each of them a pearl, and +that its foundations are garnished with sapphires and emeralds and all +manner of precious stones, if these are not among the most desirable of +objects? And is there anything very strange in the fact that many a +daughter of earth finds it a sweet foretaste of heaven to wear about her +frail earthly tabernacle these glittering reminders of the celestial +city? + +Mrs. Midas Goldenrod was not so entirely peculiar and anomalous in her +likes and dislikes; the only trouble was that she mixed up these +accidents of life too much with life itself, which is so often serenely +or actively noble and happy without reference to them. She valued +persons chiefly according to their external conditions, and of course the +very moment her relative, the Lady of our breakfast-table, began to find +herself in a streak of sunshine she came forward with a lighted candle to +show her which way her path lay before her. + +The Lady saw all this, how plainly, how painfully! yet she exercised a +true charity for the weakness of her relative. Sensible people have as +much consideration for the frailties of the rich as for those of the +poor. There is a good deal of excuse for them. Even you and I, +philosophers and philanthropists as we may think ourselves, have a +dislike for the enforced economies, proper and honorable though they +certainly are, of those who are two or three degrees below us in the +scale of agreeable living. + +--These are very worthy persons you have been living with, my dear, +--said Mrs. Midas--[the "My dear" was an expression which had flowered +out more luxuriantly than ever before in the new streak of sunshine] +--eminently respectable parties, I have no question, but then we shall +want you to move as soon as possible to our quarter of the town, where we +can see more of you than we have been able to in this queer place. + +It was not very pleasant to listen to this kind of talk, but the Lady +remembered her annual bouquet, and her occasional visits from the rich +lady, and restrained the inclination to remind her of the humble sphere +from which she herself, the rich and patronizing personage, had worked +her way up (if it was up) into that world which she seemed to think was +the only one where a human being could find life worth having. Her cheek +flushed a little, however, as she said to Mrs. Midas that she felt +attached to the place where she had been living so long. She doubted, +she was pleased to say, whether she should find better company in any +circle she was like to move in than she left behind her at our +boarding-house. I give the old Master the credit of this compliment. If +one does not agree with half of what he says, at any rate he always has +something to say, and entertains and lets out opinions and whims and +notions of one kind and another that one can quarrel with if he is out of +humor, or carry away to think about if he happens to be in the receptive +mood. + +But the Lady expressed still more strongly the regret she should feel at +leaving her young friend, our Scheherezade. I cannot wonder at this. +The Young Girl has lost what little playfulness she had in the earlier +months of my acquaintance with her. I often read her stories partly from +my interest in her, and partly because I find merit enough in them to +deserve something, better than the rough handling they got from her +coarse-fibred critic, whoever he was. I see evidence that her thoughts +are wandering from her task, that she has fits of melancholy, and bursts +of tremulous excitement, and that she has as much as she can do to keep +herself at all to her stated, inevitable, and sometimes almost despairing +literary labor. I have had some acquaintance with vital phenomena of +this kind, and know something of the nervous nature of young women and +its "magnetic storms," if I may borrow an expression from the physicists, +to indicate the perturbations to which they are liable. She is more in +need of friendship and counsel now than ever before, it seems to me, and +I cannot bear to think that the Lady, who has become like a mother to +her, is to leave her to her own guidance. + +It is plain enough what is at the bottom of this disturbance. The +astronomical lessons she has been taking have become interesting enough +to absorb too much of her thoughts, and she finds them wandering to the +stars or elsewhere, when they should be working quietly in the editor's +harness. + +The Landlady has her own views on this matter which she communicated to +me something as follows: + +--I don't quite like to tell folks what a lucky place my boarding-house +is, for fear I should have all sorts of people crowding in to be my +boarders for the sake of their chances. Folks come here poor and they go +away rich. Young women come here without a friend in the world, and the +next thing that happens is a gentleman steps up to 'em and says, "If +you'll take me for your pardner for life, I'll give you a good home and +love you ever so much besides"; and off goes my young lady-boarder into a +fine three-story house, as grand as the governor's wife, with everything +to make her comfortable, and a husband to care for her into the bargain. +That's the way it is with the young ladies that comes to board with me, +ever since the gentleman that wrote the first book that advertised my +establishment (and never charged me a cent for it neither) merried the +Schoolma'am. And I think but that's between you and me--that it 's going +to be the same thing right over again between that young gentleman and +this young girl here--if she doos n't kill herself with writing for them +news papers,--it 's too bad they don't pay her more for writing her +stories, for I read one of 'em that made me cry so the Doctor--my Doctor +Benjamin--said, "Ma, what makes your eyes look so?" and wanted to rig a +machine up and look at 'em, but I told him what the matter was, and that +he needn't fix up his peeking contrivances on my account,--anyhow she's a +nice young woman as ever lived, and as industrious with that pen of hers +as if she was at work with a sewing-machine,--and there ain't much +difference, for that matter, between sewing on shirts and writing on +stories,--one way you work with your foot, and the other way you work +with your fingers, but I rather guess there's more headache in the +stories than there is in the stitches, because you don't have to think +quite so hard while your foot's going as you do when your fingers is at +work, scratch, scratch, scratch, scribble, scribble, scribble. + +It occurred to me that this last suggestion of the Landlady was worth +considering by the soft-handed, broadcloth-clad spouters to the laboring +classes,--so called in distinction from the idle people who only contrive +the machinery and discover the processes and lay out the work and draw +the charts and organize the various movements which keep the world going +and make it tolerable. The organ-blower works harder with his muscles, +for that matter, than the organ player, and may perhaps be exasperated +into thinking himself a downtrodden martyr because he does not receive +the same pay for his services. + +I will not pretend that it needed the Landlady's sagacious guess about +the Young Astronomer and his pupil to open my eyes to certain +possibilities, if not probabilities, in that direction. Our Scheherezade +kept on writing her stories according to agreement, so many pages for so +many dollars, but some of her readers began to complain that they could +not always follow her quite so well as in her earlier efforts. It seemed +as if she must have fits of absence. In one instance her heroine began as +a blonde and finished as a brunette; not in consequence of the use of any +cosmetic, but through simple inadvertence. At last it happened in one of +her stories that a prominent character who had been killed in an early +page, not equivocally, but mortally, definitively killed, done for, and +disposed of, reappeared as if nothing had happened towards the close of +her narrative. Her mind was on something else, and she had got two +stories mixed up and sent her manuscript without having looked it over. +She told this mishap to the Lady, as something she was dreadfully ashamed +of and could not possibly account for. It had cost her a sharp note from +the publisher, and would be as good as a dinner to some half-starved +Bohemian of the critical press. + +The Lady listened to all this very thoughtfully, looking at her with +great tenderness, and said, "My poor child!" Not another word then, but +her silence meant a good deal. + +When a man holds his tongue it does not signify much. But when a woman +dispenses with the office of that mighty member, when she sheathes her +natural weapon at a trying moment, it means that she trusts to still more +formidable enginery; to tears it may be, a solvent more powerful than +that with which Hannibal softened the Alpine rocks, or to the heaving +bosom, the sight of which has subdued so many stout natures, or, it may +be, to a sympathizing, quieting look which says "Peace, be still!" to the +winds and waves of the little inland ocean, in a language that means more +than speech. + +While these matters were going on the Master and I had many talks on many +subjects. He had found me a pretty good listener, for I had learned that +the best way of getting at what was worth having from him was to wind him +up with a question and let him run down all of himself. It is easy to +turn a good talker into an insufferable bore by contradicting him, and +putting questions for him to stumble over,--that is, if he is not a bore +already, as "good talkers" are apt to be, except now and then. + +We had been discussing some knotty points one morning when he said all at +once: + +--Come into my library with me. I want to read you some new passages +from an interleaved copy of my book. You haven't read the printed part +yet. I gave you a copy of it, but nobody reads a book that is given to +him. Of course not. Nobody but a fool expects him to. He reads a +little in it here and there, perhaps, and he cuts all the leaves if he +cares enough about the writer, who will be sure to call on him some day, +and if he is left alone in his library for five minutes will have hunted +every corner of it until he has found the book he sent,--if it is to be +found at all, which does n't always happen, if there's a penal colony +anywhere in a garret or closet for typographical offenders and vagrants. + +--What do you do when you receive a book you don't want, from the +author?--said I. + +--Give him a good-natured adjective or two if I can, and thank him, and +tell him I am lying under a sense of obligation to him. + +--That is as good an excuse for lying as almost any,--I said. + +--Yes, but look out for the fellows that send you a copy of their book to +trap you into writing a bookseller's advertisement for it. I got caught +so once, and never heard the end of it and never shall hear it.---He took +down an elegantly bound volume, on opening which appeared a flourishing +and eminently flattering dedication to himself.---There,--said he, what +could I do less than acknowledge such a compliment in polite terms, and +hope and expect the book would prove successful, and so forth and so +forth? Well, I get a letter every few months from some new locality +where the man that made that book is covering the fences with his +placards, asking me whether I wrote that letter which he keeps in +stereotype and has kept so any time these dozen or fifteen years. Animus +tuus oculus, as the freshmen used to say. If her Majesty, the Queen of +England, sends you a copy of her "Leaves from the Journal of Our Life in +the Highlands," be sure you mark your letter of thanks for it Private! + +We had got comfortably seated in his library in the mean time, and the +Master had taken up his book. I noticed that every other page was left +blank, and that he had written in a good deal of new matter. + +--I tell you what,--he said,--there 's so much intelligence about +nowadays in books and newspapers and talk that it's mighty hard to write +without getting something or other worth listening to into your essay or +your volume. The foolishest book is a kind of leaky boat on a sea of +wisdom; some of the wisdom will get in anyhow. Every now and then I find +something in my book that seems so good to me, I can't help thinking it +must have leaked in. I suppose other people discover that it came +through a leak, full as soon as I do. You must write a book or two to +find out how much and how little you know and have to say. Then you must +read some notices of it by somebody that loves you and one or two by +somebody that hates you. You 'll find yourself a very odd piece of +property after you 've been through these experiences. They 're trying +to the constitution; I'm always glad to hear that a friend is as well as +can be expected after he 's had a book. + +You must n't think there are no better things in these pages of mine than +the ones I'm going to read you, but you may come across something here +that I forgot to say when we were talking over these matters. + +He began, reading from the manuscript portion of his book: + +--We find it hard to get and to keep any private property in thought. +Other people are all the time saying the same things we are hoarding to +say when we get ready. [He looked up from his book just here and said, +"Don't be afraid, I am not going to quote Pereant."] One of our old +boarders--the one that called himself "The Professor" I think it +was--said some pretty audacious things about what he called "pathological +piety," as I remember, in one of his papers. And here comes along Mr. +Galton, and shows in detail from religious biographies that "there is a +frequent correlation between an unusually devout disposition and a weak +constitution." Neither of them appeared to know that John Bunyan had got +at the same fact long before them. He tells us, "The more healthy the +lusty man is, the more prone he is unto evil." If the converse is true, +no wonder that good people, according to Bunyan, are always in trouble +and terror, for he says, + + "A Christian man is never long at ease; + When one fright is gone, another doth him seize." + +If invalidism and the nervous timidity which is apt to go with it are +elements of spiritual superiority, it follows that pathology and +toxicology should form a most important part of a theological education, +so that a divine might know how to keep a parish in a state of chronic +bad health in order that it might be virtuous. + +It is a great mistake to think that a man's religion is going to rid him +of his natural qualities. "Bishop Hall" (as you may remember to have +seen quoted elsewhere) "prefers Nature before Grace in the Election of a +wife, because, saith he, it will be a hard Task, where the Nature is +peevish and froward, for Grace to make an entire conquest while Life +lasteth." + +"Nature" and "Grace" have been contrasted with each other in a way not +very respectful to the Divine omnipotence. Kings and queens reign "by +the Grace of God," but a sweet, docile, pious disposition, such as is +born in some children and grows up with them,--that congenital gift which +good Bishop Hall would look for in a wife,--is attributed to "Nature." +In fact "Nature" and "Grace," as handled by the scholastics, are nothing +more nor less than two hostile Divinities in the Pantheon of +post-classical polytheism. + +What is the secret of the profound interest which "Darwinism" has excited +in the minds and hearts of more persons than dare to confess their doubts +and hopes? It is because it restores "Nature" to its place as a true +divine manifestation. It is that it removes the traditional curse from +that helpless infant lying in its mother's arms. It is that it lifts +from the shoulders of man the responsibility for the fact of death. It +is that, if it is true, woman can no longer be taunted with having +brought down on herself the pangs which make her sex a martyrdom. If +development upward is the general law of the race; if we have grown by +natural evolution out of the cave-man, and even less human forms of life, +we have everything to hope from the future. That the question can be +discussed without offence shows that we are entering on a new era, a +Revival greater than that of Letters, the Revival of Humanity. + +The prevalent view of "Nature" has been akin to that which long reigned +with reference to disease. This used to be considered as a distinct +entity apart from the processes of life, of which it is one of the +manifestations. It was a kind of demon to be attacked with things of +odious taste and smell; to be fumigated out of the system as the evil +spirit was driven from the bridal-chamber in the story of Tobit. The +Doctor of earlier days, even as I can remember him, used to exorcise the +demon of disease with recipes of odor as potent as that of the angel's +diabolifuge,--the smoke from a fish's heart and liver, duly burned,--"the +which smell when the evil spirit had smelled he fled into the uttermost +parts of Egypt." The very moment that disease passes into the category +of vital processes, and is recognized as an occurrence absolutely +necessary, inevitable, and as one may say, normal under certain given +conditions of constitution and circumstance, the medicine-man loses his +half-miraculous endowments. The mythical serpent is untwined from the +staff of Esculapius, which thenceforth becomes a useful walking-stick, +and does not pretend to be anything more. + +Sin, like disease, is a vital process. It is a function, and not an +entity. It must be studied as a section of anthropology. No +preconceived idea must be allowed to interfere with our investigation of +the deranged spiritual function, any more than the old ideas of +demoniacal possession must be allowed to interfere with our study of +epilepsy. Spiritual pathology is a proper subject for direct observation +and analysis, like any other subject involving a series of living +actions. + +In these living actions everything is progressive. There are sudden +changes of character in what is called "conversion" which, at first, +hardly seem to come into line with the common laws of evolution. But +these changes have been long preparing, and it is just as much in the +order of nature that certain characters should burst all at once from the +rule of evil propensities, as it is that the evening primrose should +explode, as it were, into bloom with audible sound, as you may read in +Keats's Endymion, or observe in your own garden. + +There is a continual tendency in men to fence in themselves and a few of +their neighbors who agree with them in their ideas, as if they were an +exception to their race. We must not allow any creed or religion +whatsoever to confiscate to its own private use and benefit the virtues +which belong to our common humanity. The Good Samaritan helped his +wounded neighbor simply because he was a suffering fellow-creature. Do +you think your charitable act is more acceptable than the Good +Samaritan's, because you do it in the name of Him who made the memory of +that kind man immortal? Do you mean that you would not give the cup of +cold water for the sake simply and solely of the poor, suffering +fellow-mortal, as willingly as you now do, professing to give it for the +sake of Him who is not thirsty or in need of any help of yours? We must +ask questions like this, if we are to claim for our common nature what +belongs to it. + +The scientific study of man is the most difficult of all branches of +knowledge. It requires, in the first place, an entire new terminology to +get rid of that enormous load of prejudices with which every term applied +to the malformations, the functional disturbances, and the organic +diseases of the moral nature is at present burdened. Take that one word +Sin, for instance: all those who have studied the subject from nature and +not from books know perfectly well that a certain fraction of what is so +called is nothing more or less than a symptom of hysteria; that another +fraction is the index of a limited degree of insanity; that still another +is the result of a congenital tendency which removes the act we sit in +judgment upon from the sphere of self-determination, if not entirely, at +least to such an extent that the subject of the tendency cannot be judged +by any normal standard. + +To study nature without fear is possible, but without reproach, +impossible. The man who worships in the temple of knowledge must carry +his arms with him as our Puritan fathers had to do when they gathered in +their first rude meeting-houses. It is a fearful thing to meddle with +the ark which holds the mysteries of creation. I remember that when I +was a child the tradition was whispered round among us little folks that +if we tried to count the stars we should drop down dead. Nevertheless, +the stars have been counted and the astronomer has survived. This +nursery legend is the child's version of those superstitions which would +have strangled in their cradles the young sciences now adolescent and +able to take care of themselves, and which, no longer daring to attack +these, are watching with hostile aspect the rapid growth of the +comparatively new science of man. + +The real difficulty of the student of nature at this time is to reconcile +absolute freedom and perfect fearlessness with that respect for the past, +that reverence, for the spirit of reverence wherever we find it, that +tenderness for the weakest fibres by which the hearts of our +fellow-creatures hold to their religious convictions, which will make the +transition from old belief to a larger light and liberty an interstitial +change and not a violent mutilation. + +I remember once going into a little church in a small village some miles +from a great European capital. The special object of adoration in this +humblest of places of worship was a bambino, a holy infant, done in wax, +and covered with cheap ornaments such as a little girl would like to +beautify her doll with. Many a good Protestant of the old Puritan type +would have felt a strong impulse to seize this "idolatrous" figure and +dash it to pieces on the stone floor of the little church. But one must +have lived awhile among simple-minded pious Catholics to know what this +poor waxen image and the whole baby-house of bambinos mean for a humble, +unlettered, unimaginative peasantry. He will find that the true office +of this eidolon is to fix the mind of the worshipper, and that in virtue +of the devotional thoughts it has called forth so often for so many years +in the mind of that poor old woman who is kneeling before it, it is no +longer a wax doll for her, but has undergone a transubstantiation quite +as real as that of the Eucharist. The moral is that we must not roughly +smash other people's idols because we know, or think we know, that they +are of cheap human manufacture. + +--Do you think cheap manufactures encourage idleness?--said I. + +The Master stared. Well he might, for I had been getting a little +drowsy, and wishing to show that I had been awake and attentive, asked a +question suggested by some words I had caught, but which showed that I +had not been taking the slightest idea from what he was reading me. He +stared, shook his head slowly, smiled good-humoredly, took off his great +round spectacles, and shut up his book. + +--Sat prates biberunt,--he said. A sick man that gets talking about +himself, a woman that gets talking about her baby, and an author that +begins reading out of his own book, never know when to stop. You'll +think of some of these things you've been getting half asleep over by and +by. I don't want you to believe anything I say; I only want you to try +to see what makes me believe it. + +My young friend, the Astronomer, has, I suspect, been making some +addition to his manuscript. At any rate some of the lines he read us in +the afternoon of this same day had never enjoyed the benefit of my +revision, and I think they had but just been written. I noticed that his +manner was somewhat more excited than usual, and his voice just towards +the close a little tremulous. Perhaps I may attribute his improvement to +the effect of my criticisms, but whatever the reason, I think these lines +are very nearly as correct as they would have been if I had looked them +over. + + WIND-CLOUDS AND STAR-DRIFTS. + + VII + + What if a soul redeemed, a spirit that loved + While yet on earth and was beloved in turn, + And still remembered every look and tone + Of that dear earthly sister who was left + Among the unwise virgins at the gate, + Itself admitted with the bridegroom's train, + What if this spirit redeemed, amid the host + Of chanting angels, in some transient lull + Of the eternal anthem, heard the cry + Of its lost darling, whom in evil hour + Some wilder pulse of nature led astray + And left an outcast in a world of fire, + Condemned to be the sport of cruel fiends, + Sleepless, unpitying, masters of the skill + To wring the maddest ecstasies of pain + From worn-out souls that only ask to die, + Would it not long to leave the bliss of Heaven, + Bearing a little water in its hand + To moisten those poor lips that plead in vain + With Him we call our Father? Or is all + So changed in such as taste celestial joy + They hear unmoved the endless wail of woe, + The daughter in the same dear tones that hushed + Her cradled slumbers; she who once had held + A babe upon her bosom from its voice + Hoarse with its cry of anguish, yet the same? + + No! not in ages when the Dreadful Bird + Stamped his huge footprints, and the Fearful Beast + Strode with the flesh about those fossil bones + We build to mimic life with pygmy hands, + Not in those earliest days when men ran wild + And gashed each other with their knives of stone, + When their low foreheads bulged in ridgy brows + And their flat hands were callous in the palm + With walking in the fashion of their sires, + Grope as they might to find a cruel god + To work their will on such as human wrath + Had wrought its worst to torture, and had left + With rage unsated, white and stark and cold, + Could hate have shaped a demon more malign + Than him the dead men mummied in their creed + And taught their trembling children to adore! + Made in his image! Sweet and gracious souls + Dear to my heart by nature's fondest names, + Is not your memory still the precious mould + That lends its form to Him who hears my prayer? + Thus only I behold him, like to them, + Long-suffering, gentle, ever slow to wrath, + If wrath it be that only wounds to heal, + Ready to meet the wanderer ere he reach + The door he seeks, forgetful of his sin, + Longing to clasp him in a father's arms, + And seal his pardon with a pitying tear! + + Four gospels tell their story to mankind, + And none so full of soft, caressing words + That bring the Maid of Bethlehem and her Babe + Before our tear-dimmed eyes, as his who learned + In the meek service of his gracious art + The tones which like the medicinal balms + That calm the sufferer's anguish, soothe our souls. + --Oh that the loving woman, she who sat + So long a listener at her Master's feet, + Had left us Mary's Gospel,--all she heard + Too sweet, too subtle for the ear of man! + Mark how the tender-hearted mothers read + The messages of love between the lines + Of the same page that loads the bitter tongue + Of him who deals in terror as his trade + With threatening words of wrath that scorch like flame! + They tell of angels whispering round the bed + Of the sweet infant smiling in its dream, + Of lambs enfolded in the Shepherd's arms, + Of Him who blessed the children; of the land + Where crystal rivers feed unfading flowers, + Of cities golden-paved with streets of pearl, + Of the white robes the winged creatures wear, + The crowns and harps from whose melodious strings + One long, sweet anthem flows forevermore! + + --We too bad human mothers, even as Thou, + Whom we have learned to worship as remote + From mortal kindred, wast a cradled babe. + The milk of woman filled our branching veins, + She lulled us with her tender nursery-song, + And folded round us her untiring arms, + While the first unremembered twilight year + Shaped us to conscious being; still we feel + Her pulses in our own,--too faintly feel; + Would that the heart of woman warmed our creeds! + + Not from the sad-eyed hermit's lonely cell, + Not from the conclave where the holy men + Glare on each other, as with angry eyes + They battle for God's glory and their own, + Till, sick of wordy strife, a show of hands + Fixes the faith of ages yet unborn, + Ah, not from these the listening soul can hear + The Father's voice that speaks itself divine! + Love must be still our Master; till we learn + What he can teach us of a woman's heart, + We know not His, whose love embraces all. + +There are certain nervous conditions peculiar to women in which the +common effects of poetry and of music upon their sensibilities are +strangely exaggerated. It was not perhaps to be wondered at that Octavia +fainted when Virgil in reading from his great poem came to the line +beginning Tu Marcellus eris: It is not hard to believe the story told of +one of the two Davidson sisters, that the singing of some of Moore's +plaintive melodies would so impress her as almost to take away the +faculties of sense and motion. But there must have been some special +cause for the singular nervous state into which this reading threw the +young girl, our Scheherezade. She was doubtless tired with overwork and +troubled with the thought that she was not doing herself justice, and +that she was doomed to be the helpless prey of some of those corbies who +not only pick out corbies' eyes, but find no other diet so nutritious and +agreeable. + +Whatever the cause may have been, her heart heaved tumultuously, her +color came and went, and though she managed to avoid a scene by the +exercise of all her self-control, I watched her very anxiously, for I was +afraid she would have had a hysteric turn, or in one of her pallid +moments that she would have fainted and fallen like one dead before us. + +I was very glad, therefore, when evening came, to find that she was going +out for a lesson on the stars. I knew the open air was what she needed, +and I thought the walk would do her good, whether she made any new +astronomical acquisitions or not. + +It was now late in the autumn, and the trees were pretty nearly stripped +of their leaves.--There was no place so favorable as the Common for the +study of the heavens. The skies were brilliant with stars, and the air +was just keen enough to remind our young friends that the cold season was +at hand. They wandered round for a while, and at last found themselves +under the Great Elm, drawn thither, no doubt, by the magnetism it is so +well known to exert over the natives of its own soil and those who have +often been under the shadow of its outstretched arms. The venerable +survivor of its contemporaries that flourished in the days when +Blackstone rode beneath it on his bull was now a good deal broken by age, +yet not without marks of lusty vitality. It had been wrenched and +twisted and battered by so many scores of winters that some of its limbs +were crippled and many of its joints were shaky, and but for the support +of the iron braces that lent their strong sinews to its more infirm +members it would have gone to pieces in the first strenuous northeaster +or the first sudden and violent gale from the southwest. But there it +stood, and there it stands as yet,--though its obituary was long ago +written after one of the terrible storms that tore its branches,--leafing +out hopefully in April as if it were trying in its dumb language to lisp +"Our Father," and dropping its slender burden of foliage in October as +softly as if it were whispering Amen! + +Not far from the ancient and monumental tree lay a small sheet of water, +once agile with life and vocal with evening melodies, but now stirred +only by the swallow as he dips his wing, or by the morning bath of the +English sparrows, those high-headed, thick-bodied, full-feeding, +hot-tempered little John Bulls that keep up such a swashing and swabbing +and spattering round all the water basins, one might think from the fuss +they make about it that a bird never took a bath here before, and that +they were the missionaries of ablution to the unwashed Western world. + +There are those who speak lightly of this small aqueous expanse, the eye +of the sacred enclosure, which has looked unwinking on the happy faces of +so many natives and the curious features of so many strangers. The music +of its twilight minstrels has long ceased, but their memory lingers like +an echo in the name it bears. Cherish it, inhabitants of the two-hilled +city, once three-hilled; ye who have said to the mountain, "Remove +hence," and turned the sea into dry land! May no contractor fill his +pockets by undertaking to fill thee, thou granite girdled lakelet, or +drain the civic purse by drawing off thy waters! For art thou not the +Palladium of our Troy? Didst thou not, like the Divine image which was +the safeguard of Ilium, fall from the skies, and if the Trojan could look +with pride upon the heaven-descended form of the Goddess of Wisdom, +cannot he who dwells by thy shining oval look in that mirror and +contemplate Himself,--the Native of Boston. + +There must be some fatality which carries our young men and maidens in +the direction of the Common when they have anything very particular to +exchange their views about. At any rate I remember two of our young +friends brought up here a good many years ago, and I understand that +there is one path across the enclosure which a young man must not ask a +young woman to take with him unless he means business, for an action will +hold--for breach of promise, if she consents to accompany him, and he +chooses to forget his obligations: + +Our two young people stood at the western edge of the little pool, +studying astronomy in the reflected firmament. The Pleiades were +trembling in the wave before them, and the three great stars of +Orion,--for these constellations were both glittering in the eastern sky. + +"There is no place too humble for the glories of heaven to shine in," she +said. + +"And their splendor makes even this little pool beautiful and noble," he +answered. "Where is the light to come from that is to do as much for our +poor human lives?" + +A simple question enough, but the young girl felt her color change as she +answered, "From friendship, I think." + +--Grazing only as-yet,--not striking full, hardly hitting at all,--but +there are questions and answers that come so very near, the wind of them +alone almost takes the breath away. + +There was an interval of silence. Two young persons can stand looking at +water for a long time without feeling the necessity of speaking. +Especially when the water is alive with stars and the young persons are +thoughtful and impressible. The water seems to do half the thinking +while one is looking at it; its movements are felt in the brain very much +like thought. When I was in full training as a flaneur, I could stand on +the Pont Neuf with the other experts in the great science of passive +cerebration and look at the river for half an hour with so little mental +articulation that when I moved on it seemed as if my thinking-marrow had +been asleep and was just waking up refreshed after its nap. + +So the reader can easily account for the interval of silence. It is hard +to tell how long it would have lasted, but just then a lubberly intrusive +boy threw a great stone, which convulsed the firmament, the one at their +feet, I mean. The six Pleiads disappeared as if in search of their lost +sister; the belt of Orion was broken asunder, and a hundred worlds +dissolved back into chaos. They turned away and strayed off into one of +the more open paths, where the view of the sky over them was +unobstructed. For some reason or other the astronomical lesson did not +get on very fast this evening. + +Presently the young man asked his pupil: + +--Do you know what the constellation directly over our heads is? + +--Is it not Cassiopea?--she asked a little hesitatingly. + +--No, it is Andromeda. You ought not to have forgotten her, for I +remember showing you a double star, the one in her right foot, through +the equatorial telescope. You have not forgotten the double star,--the +two that shone for each other and made a little world by themselves? + +--No, indeed,--she answered, and blushed, and felt ashamed because she +had said indeed, as if it had been an emotional recollection. + +The double-star allusion struck another dead silence. She would have +given a week's pay to any invisible attendant that would have cut her +stay-lace. + +At last: Do you know the story of Andromeda? he said. + +--Perhaps I did once, but suppose I don't remember it. + +He told her the story of the unfortunate maiden chained to a rock and +waiting for a sea-beast that was coming to devour her, and how Perseus +came and set her free, and won her love with her life. And then he began +something about a young man chained to his rock, which was a star-gazer's +tower, a prey by turns to ambition, and lonely self-contempt and +unwholesome scorn of the life he looked down upon after the serenity of +the firmament, and endless questionings that led him nowhere,--and now he +had only one more question to ask. He loved her. Would she break his +chain?--He held both his hands out towards her, the palms together, as if +they were fettered at the wrists. She took hold of them very gently; +parted them a little; then wider--wider--and found herself all at once +folded, unresisting, in her lover's arms. + +So there was a new double-star in the living firmament. The +constellations seemed to kindle with new splendors as the student and the +story-teller walked homeward in their light; Alioth and Algol looked down +on them as on the first pair of lovers they shone over, and the autumn +air seemed full of harmonies as when the morning stars sang together. + + + + +XII + +The old Master had asked us, the Young Astronomer and myself, into his +library, to hear him read some passages from his interleaved book. We +three had formed a kind of little club without knowing it from the time +when the young man began reading those extracts from his poetical +reveries which I have reproduced in these pages. Perhaps we agreed in too +many things,--I suppose if we could have had a good hard-headed, +old-fashioned New England divine to meet with us it might have acted as a +wholesome corrective. For we had it all our own way; the Lady's kindly +remonstrance was taken in good part, but did not keep us from talking +pretty freely, and as for the Young Girl, she listened with the +tranquillity and fearlessness which a very simple trusting creed +naturally gives those who hold it. The fewer outworks to the citadel of +belief, the fewer points there are to be threatened and endangered. + +The reader must not suppose that I even attempt to reproduce everything +exactly as it took place in our conversations, or when we met to listen +to the Master's prose or to the Young Astronomer's verse. I do not +pretend to give all the pauses and interruptions by question or +otherwise. I could not always do it if I tried, but I do not want to, +for oftentimes it is better to let the speaker or reader go on +continuously, although there may have been many breaks in the course of +the conversation or reading. When, for instance, I by and by reproduce +what the Landlady said to us, I shall give it almost without any hint +that it was arrested in its flow from time to time by various expressions +on the part of the hearers. + +I can hardly say what the reason of it was, but it is very certain that I +had a vague sense of some impending event as we took our seats in the +Master's library. He seemed particularly anxious that we should be +comfortably seated, and shook up the cushions of the arm-chairs himself, +and got them into the right places. + +Now go to sleep--he said--or listen,--just which you like best. But I am +going to begin by telling you both a secret. + +Liberavi animam meam. That is the meaning of my book and of my literary +life, if I may give such a name to that party-colored shred of human +existence. I have unburdened myself in this book, and in some other +pages, of what I was born to say. Many things that I have said in my +ripe days have been aching in my soul since I was a mere child. I say +aching, because they conflicted with many of my inherited beliefs, or +rather traditions. I did not know then that two strains of blood were +striving in me for the mastery,--two! twenty, perhaps,--twenty thousand, +for aught I know,--but represented to me by two,--paternal and maternal. +Blind forces in themselves; shaping thoughts as they shaped features and +battled for the moulding of constitution and the mingling of temperament. + +Philosophy and poetry came--to me before I knew their names. + + Je fis mes premiers vers, sans savoir les ecrire. + +Not verses so much as the stuff that verses are made of. I don't suppose +that the thoughts which came up of themselves in my mind were so mighty +different from what come up in the minds of other young folks. And that +'s the best reason I could give for telling 'em. I don't believe +anything I've written is as good as it seemed to me when I wrote it,--he +stopped, for he was afraid he was lying,--not much that I 've written, at +any rate,--he said--with a smile at the honesty which made him qualify +his statement. But I do know this: I have struck a good many chords, +first and last, in the consciousness of other people. I confess to a +tender feeling for my little brood of thoughts. When they have been +welcomed and praised it has pleased me, and if at any time they have been +rudely handled and despitefully entreated it has cost me a little worry. +I don't despise reputation, and I should like to be remembered as having +said something worth lasting well enough to last. + +But all that is nothing to the main comfort I feel as a writer. I have +got rid of something my mind could not keep to itself and rise as it was +meant to into higher regions. I saw the aeronauts the other day emptying +from the bags some of the sand that served as ballast. It glistened a +moment in the sunlight as a slender shower, and then was lost and seen no +more as it scattered itself unnoticed. But the airship rose higher as the +sand was poured out, and so it seems to me I have felt myself getting +above the mists and clouds whenever I have lightened myself of some +portion of the mental ballast I have carried with me. Why should I hope +or fear when I send out my book? I have had my reward, for I have +wrought out my thought, I have said my say, I have freed my soul. I can +afford to be forgotten. + +Look here!--he said. I keep oblivion always before me.---He pointed to a +singularly perfect and beautiful trilobite which was lying on a pile of +manuscripts.---Each time I fill a sheet of paper with what I am writing, +I lay it beneath this relic of a dead world, and project my thought +forward into eternity as far as this extinct crustacean carries it +backward. When my heart beats too lustily with vain hopes of being +remembered, I press the cold fossil against it and it grows calm. I +touch my forehead with it, and its anxious furrows grow smooth. Our +world, too, with all its breathing life, is but a leaf to be folded with +the other strata, and if I am only patient, by and by I shall be just as +famous as imperious Caesar himself, embedded with me in a conglomerate. + +He began reading:--"There is no new thing under the sun," said the +Preacher. He would not say so now, if he should come to life for a +little while, and have his photograph taken, and go up in a balloon, and +take a trip by railroad and a voyage by steamship, and get a message from +General Grant by the cable, and see a man's leg cut off without its +hurting him. If it did not take his breath away and lay him out as flat +as the Queen of Sheba was knocked over by the splendors of his court, he +must have rivalled our Indians in the nil admarari line. + +For all that, it is a strange thing to see what numbers of new things are +really old. There are many modern contrivances that are of as early date +as the first man, if not thousands of centuries older. Everybody knows +how all the arrangements of our telescopes and microscopes are +anticipated in the eye, and how our best musical instruments are +surpassed by the larynx. But there are some very odd things any +anatomist can tell, showing how our recent contrivances are anticipated +in the human body. In the alimentary canal are certain pointed eminences +called villi, and certain ridges called valvuloe conniventes. The makers +of heating apparatus have exactly reproduced the first in the "pot" of +their furnaces, and the second in many of the radiators to be seen in our +public buildings. The object in the body and the heating apparatus is +the same; to increase the extent of surface.--We mix hair with plaster +(as the Egyptians mixed straw with clay to make bricks) so that it shall +hold more firmly. But before man had any artificial dwelling the same +contrivance of mixing fibrous threads with a cohesive substance had been +employed in the jointed fabric of his own spinal column. India-rubber is +modern, but the yellow animal substance which is elastic like that, and +serves the same purpose in the animal economy which that serves in our +mechanical contrivances, is as old as the mammalia. The dome, the round +and the Gothic arch, the groined roof, the flying buttress, are all +familiar to those who have studied the bony frame of man. All forms of +the lever and all the principal kinds of hinges are to be met with in our +own frames. The valvular arrangements of the blood-vessels are +unapproached by any artificial apparatus, and the arrangements for +preventing friction are so perfect that two surfaces will play on each +other for fourscore years or more and never once trouble their owner by +catching or rubbing so as to be felt or heard. + +But stranger than these repetitions are the coincidences one finds in the +manners and speech of antiquity and our own time. In the days when Flood +Ireson was drawn in the cart by the Maenads of Marblehead, that fishing +town had the name of nurturing a young population not over fond of +strangers. It used to be said that if an unknown landsman showed himself +in the streets, the boys would follow after him, crying, "Rock him! Rock +him! He's got a long-tailed coat on!" + +Now if one opens the Odyssey, he will find that the Phaeacians, three +thousand years ago, were wonderfully like these youthful Marbleheaders. +The blue-eyed Goddess who convoys Ulysses, under the disguise of a young +maiden of the place, gives him some excellent advice. "Hold your +tongue," she says, "and don't look at anybody or ask any questions, for +these are seafaring people, and don't like to have strangers round or +anybody that does not belong here." + +Who would have thought that the saucy question, "Does your mother know +you're out?" was the very same that Horace addressed to the bore who +attacked him in the Via Sacra? + + Interpellandi locus hic erat; Est tibi mater? + Cognati, queis te salvo est opus? + +And think of the London cockney's prefix of the letter h to innocent +words beginning with a vowel having its prototype in the speech of the +vulgar Roman, as may be seen in the verses of Catullus: + + Chommoda dicebat, siquando commoda vellet + Dicere, et hinsidias Arrius insidias. + Et tum mirifice sperabat se esse locutum, + Cum quantum poterat, dixerat hinsidias... + + Hoc misso in Syriam, requierant omnibus aures... + Cum subito affertur nuncius horribilis; + Ionios fluctus, postquam illue Arrius isset, + Jam non Ionios esse, sed Hionios. + +--Our neighbors of Manhattan have an excellent jest about our crooked +streets which, if they were a little more familiar with a native author +of unquestionable veracity, they would strike out from the letter of "Our +Boston Correspondent," where it is a source of perennial hilarity. It is +worth while to reprint, for the benefit of whom it may concern, a +paragraph from the authentic history of the venerable Diedrich +Knickerbocker: + +"The sage council, as has been mentioned in a preceding chapter, not +being able to determine upon any plan for the building of their +city,--the cows, in a laudable fit of patriotism, took it under their +peculiar charge, and as they went to and from pasture, established paths +through the bushes, on each side of which the good folks built their +houses; which is one cause of the rambling and picturesque turns and +labyrinths, which distinguish certain streets of New York at this very +day." + +--When I was a little boy there came to stay with us for a while a young +lady with a singularly white complexion. Now I had often seen the masons +slacking lime, and I thought it was the whitest thing I had ever looked +upon. So I always called this fair visitor of ours Slacked Lime. I +think she is still living in a neighboring State, and I am sure she has +never forgotten the fanciful name I gave her. But within ten or a dozen +years I have seen this very same comparison going the round of the +papers, and credited to a Welsh poet, David Ap Gwyllym, or something like +that, by name. + +--I turned a pretty sentence enough in one of my lectures about finding +poppies springing up amidst the corn; as if it had been foreseen by +nature that wherever there should be hunger that asked for food, there +would be pain that needed relief,--and many years afterwards. I had the +pleasure of finding that Mistress Piozzi had been beforehand with me in +suggesting the same moral reflection. + +--I should like to carry some of my friends to see a giant bee-hive I +have discovered. Its hum can be heard half a mile, and the great white +swarm counts its tens of thousands. They pretend to call it a +planing-mill, but if it is not a bee-hive it is so like one that if a +hundred people have not said so before me, it is very singular that they +have not. If I wrote verses I would try to bring it in, and I suppose +people would start up in a dozen places, and say, "Oh, that bee-hive +simile is mine,--and besides, did not Mr. Bayard Taylor call the +snowflakes 'white bees'?" + +I think the old Master had chosen these trivialities on purpose to amuse +the Young Astronomer and myself, if possible, and so make sure of our +keeping awake while he went on reading, as follows: + +--How the sweet souls of all time strike the same note, the same because +it is in unison with the divine voice that sings to them! I read in the +Zend Avesta, "No earthly man with a hundred-fold strength speaks so much +evil as Mithra with heavenly strength speaks good. No earthly man with a +hundred-fold strength does so much evil as Mithra with heavenly strength +does good." + +And now leave Persia and Zoroaster, and come down with me to our own New +England and one of our old Puritan preachers. It was in the dreadful +days of the Salem Witchcraft delusion that one Jonathan Singletary, being +then in the prison at Ipswich, gave his testimony as to certain fearful +occurrences,--a great noise, as of many cats climbing, skipping, and +jumping, of throwing about of furniture, and of men walking in the +chambers, with crackling and shaking as if the house would fall upon him. + +"I was at present," he says, "something affrighted; yet considering what +I had lately heard made out by Mr. Mitchel at Cambridge, that there is +more good in God than there is evil in sin, and that although God is the +greatest good and sin the greatest evil, yet the first Being of evil +cannot weave the scales or overpower the first Being of good: so +considering that the authour of good was of greater power than the +authour of evil, God was pleased of his goodness to keep me from being +out of measure frighted." + +I shall always bless the memory of this poor, timid creature for saving +that dear remembrance of "Matchless Mitchel." How many, like him, have +thought they were preaching a new gospel, when they were only reaffirming +the principles which underlie the Magna Charta of humanity, and are +common to the noblest utterances of all the nobler creeds! But spoken by +those solemn lips to those stern, simpleminded hearers, the words I have +cited seem to me to have a fragrance like the precious ointment of +spikenard with which Mary anointed her Master's feet. I can see the +little bare meeting-house, with the godly deacons, and the grave matrons, +and the comely maidens, and the sober manhood of the village, with the +small group of college students sitting by themselves under the shadow of +the awful Presidential Presence, all listening to that preaching, which +was, as Cotton Mather says, "as a very lovely song of one that hath a +pleasant voice"; and as the holy pastor utters those blessed words, which +are not of any one church or age, but of all time, the humble place of +worship is filled with their perfume, as the house where Mary knelt was +filled with the odor of the precious ointment. + +--The Master rose, as he finished reading this sentence, and, walking to +the window, adjusted a curtain which he seemed to find a good deal of +trouble in getting to hang just as he wanted it. + +He came back to his arm-chair, and began reading again + +--If men would only open their eyes to the fact which stares them in the +face from history, and is made clear enough by the slightest glance at +the condition of mankind, that humanity is of immeasurably greater +importance than their own or any other particular belief, they would no +more attempt to make private property of the grace of God than to fence +in the sunshine for their own special use and enjoyment. + +We are all tattoed in our cradles with the beliefs of our tribe; the +record may seem superficial, but it is indelible. You cannot educate a +man wholly out of the superstitious fears which were early implanted in +his imagination; no matter how utterly his reason may reject them, he +will still feel as the famous woman did about ghosts, Je n'y crois pas, +mais je les crains,--"I don't believe in them, but I am afraid of them, +nevertheless." + +--As people grow older they come at length to live so much in memory that +they often think with a kind of pleasure of losing their dearest +blessings. Nothing can be so perfect while we possess it as it will seem +when remembered. The friend we love best may sometimes weary us by his +presence or vex us by his infirmities. How sweet to think of him as he +will be to us after we have outlived him ten or a dozen years! Then we +can recall him in his best moments, bid him stay with us as long as we +want his company, and send him away when we wish to be alone again. One +might alter Shenstone's well-known epitaph to suit such a case:-- + + Hen! quanto minus est cum to vivo versari + + Quam erit (vel esset) tui mortui reminisse! + + "Alas! how much less the delight of thy living presence + Than will (or would) be that of remembering thee when thou hast + left us!" + +I want to stop here--I the Poet--and put in a few reflections of my own, +suggested by what I have been giving the reader from the Master's Book, +and in a similar vein. + +--How few things there are that do not change their whole aspect in the +course of a single generation! The landscape around us is wholly +different. Even the outlines of the hills that surround us are changed +by the creeping of the villages with their spires and school-houses up +their sides. The sky remains the same, and the ocean. A few old +churchyards look very much as they used to, except, of course, in Boston, +where the gravestones have been rooted up and planted in rows with walks +between them, to the utter disgrace and ruin of our most venerated +cemeteries. The Registry of Deeds and the Probate Office show us the +same old folios, where we can read our grandfather's title to his estate +(if we had a grandfather and he happened to own anything) and see how +many pots and kettles there were in his kitchen by the inventory of his +personal property. + +Among living people none remain so long unchanged as the actors. I can +see the same Othello to-day, if I choose, that when I was a boy I saw +smothering Mrs. Duff-Desdemona with the pillow, under the instigations of +Mr. Cooper-Iago. A few stone heavier than he was then, no doubt, but the +same truculent blackamoor that took by the thr-r-r-oat the circumcised +dog in Aleppo, and told us about it in the old Boston Theatre. In the +course of a fortnight, if I care to cross the water, I can see +Mademoiselle Dejazet in the same parts I saw her in under Louis Philippe, +and be charmed by the same grace and vivacity which delighted my +grandmother (if she was in Paris, and went to see her in the part of +Fanchon toute seule at the Theatre des Capucines) in the days when the +great Napoleon was still only First Consul. + +The graveyard and the stage are pretty much the only places where you can +expect to find your friends--as you left them, five and twenty or fifty +years ago. I have noticed, I may add, that old theatre-goers bring back +the past with their stories more vividly than men with any other +experiences. There were two old New-Yorkers that I used to love to sit +talking with about the stage. One was a scholar and a writer of note; a +pleasant old gentleman, with the fresh cheek of an octogenarian Cupid. +The other not less noted in his way, deep in local lore, large-brained, +full-blooded, of somewhat perturbing and tumultuous presence. It was +good to hear them talk of George Frederic Cooke, of Kean, and the lesser +stars of those earlier constellations. Better still to breakfast with +old Samuel Rogers, as some of my readers have done more than once, and +hear him answer to the question who was the best actor he remembered, "I +think, on the whole, Garrick." + +If we did but know how to question these charming old people before it is +too late! About ten years, more or less, after the generation in advance +of our own has all died off, it occurs to us all at once, "There! I can +ask my old friend what he knows of that picture, which must be a Copley; +of that house and its legends about which there is such a mystery. He +(or she) must know all about that." Too late! Too late! + +Still, now and then one saves a reminiscence that means a good deal by +means of a casual question. I asked the first of those two old +New-Yorkers the following question: "Who, on the whole, seemed to you the +most considerable person you ever met?" + +Now it must be remembered that this was a man who had lived in a city +that calls itself the metropolis, one who had been a member of the State +and the National Legislature, who had come in contact with men of +letters and men of business, with politicians and members of all the +professions, during a long and distinguished public career. I paused for +his answer with no little curiosity. Would it be one of the great +Ex-Presidents whose names were known to, all the world? Would it be the +silver-tongued orator of Kentucky or the "God-like" champion of the +Constitution, our New-England Jupiter Capitolinus? Who would it be? + +"Take it altogether," he answered, very deliberately, "I should say +Colonel Elisha Williams was the most notable personage that I have met +with." + +--Colonel Elisha Williams! And who might he be, forsooth? A gentleman +of singular distinction, you may be well assured, even though you are not +familiar with his name; but as I am not writing a biographical +dictionary, I shall leave it to my reader to find out who and what he +was. + +--One would like to live long enough to witness certain things which will +no doubt come to pass by and by. I remember that when one of our good +kindhearted old millionnaires was growing very infirm, his limbs failing +him, and his trunk getting packed with the infirmities which mean that +one is bound on a long journey, he said very simply and sweetly, "I don't +care about living a great deal longer, but I should like to live long +enough to find out how much old (a many-millioned fellow-citizen) is +worth." And without committing myself on the longevity-question, I +confess I should like to live long enough to see a few things happen that +are like to come, sooner or later. + +I want to hold the skull of Abraham in my hand. They will go through the +cave of Machpelah at Hebron, I feel sure, in the course of a few +generations at the furthest, and as Dr. Robinson knows of nothing which +should lead us to question the correctness of the tradition which regards +this as the place of sepulture of Abraham and the other patriarchs, there +is no reason why we may not find his mummied body in perfect +preservation, if he was embalmed after the Egyptian fashion. I suppose +the tomb of David will be explored by a commission in due time, and I +should like to see the phrenological developments of that great king and +divine singer and warm-blooded man. If, as seems probable, the +anthropological section of society manages to get round the curse that +protects the bones of Shakespeare, I should like to see the dome which +rounded itself over his imperial brain. Not that I am what is called a +phrenologist, but I am curious as to the physical developments of these +fellow-mortals of mine, and a little in want of a sensation. + +I should like to live long enough to see the course of the Tiber turned, +and the bottom of the river thoroughly dredged. I wonder if they would +find the seven-branched golden candlestick brought from Jerusalem by +Titus, and said to have been dropped from the Milvian bridge. I have +often thought of going fishing for it some year when I wanted a vacation, +as some of my friends used to go to Ireland to fish for salmon. There +was an attempt of that kind, I think, a few years ago. + +We all know how it looks well enough, from the figure of it on the Arch +of Titus, but I should like to "heft" it in my own hand, and carry it +home and shine it up (excuse my colloquialisms), and sit down and look at +it, and think and think and think until the Temple of Solomon built up +its walls of hewn stone and its roofs of cedar around me as noiselessly +as when it rose, and "there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of +iron heard in the house while it was in building." + +All this, you will remember, Beloved, is a digression on my own account, +and I return to the old Master whom I left smiling at his own alteration +of Shenstone's celebrated inscription. He now begin reading again: + +--I want it to be understood that I consider that a certain number of +persons are at liberty to dislike me peremptorily, without showing cause, +and that they give no offence whatever in so doing. + +If I did not cheerfully acquiesce in this sentiment towards myself on the +part of others, I should not feel at liberty to indulge my own aversions. +I try to cultivate a Christian feeling to all my fellow-creatures, but +inasmuch as I must also respect truth and honesty, I confess to myself a +certain number of inalienable dislikes and prejudices, some of which may +possibly be shared by others. Some of these are purely instinctive, for +others I can assign a reason. Our likes and dislikes play so important a +part in the Order of Things that it is well to see on what they are +founded. + +There are persons I meet occasionally who are too intelligent by half for +my liking. They know my thoughts beforehand, and tell me what I was +going to say. Of course they are masters of all my knowledge, and a good +deal besides; have read all the books I have read, and in later editions; +have had all the experiences I have been through, and more-too. In my +private opinion every mother's son of them will lie at any time rather +than confess ignorance. + +--I have a kind of dread, rather than hatred, of persons with a large +excess of vitality; great feeders, great laughers, great story-tellers, +who come sweeping over their company with a huge tidal wave of animal +spirits and boisterous merriment. I have pretty good spirits myself, and +enjoy a little mild pleasantry, but I am oppressed and extinguished by +these great lusty, noisy creatures,--and feel as if I were a mute at a +funeral when they get into full blast. + +--I cannot get along much better with those drooping, languid people, +whose vitality falls short as much as that of the others is in excess. I +have not life enough for two; I wish I had. It is not very enlivening to +meet a fellow-creature whose expression and accents say, "You are the +hair that breaks the camel's back of my endurance, you are the last drop +that makes my cup of woe run over"; persons whose heads drop on one side +like those of toothless infants, whose voices recall the tones in which +our old snuffling choir used to wail out the verses of: + + "Life is the time to serve the Lord." + +--There is another style which does not captivate me. I recognize an +attempt at the grand manner now and then, in persons who are well enough +in their way, but of no particular importance, socially or otherwise. +Some family tradition of wealth or distinction is apt to be at the bottom +of it, and it survives all the advantages that used to set it off. I +like family pride as well as my neighbors, and respect the high-born +fellow-citizen whose progenitors have not worked in their shirt-sleeves +for the last two generations full as much as I ought to. But grand pere +oblige; a person with a known grandfather is too distinguished to find it +necessary to put on airs. The few Royal Princes I have happened to know +were very easy people to get along with, and had not half the social +knee-action I have often seen in the collapsed dowagers who lifted their +eyebrows at me in my earlier years. + +--My heart does not warm as it should do towards the persons, not +intimates, who are always too glad to see me when we meet by accident, +and discover all at once that they have a vast deal to unbosom themselves +of to me. + +--There is one blameless person whom I cannot love and have no excuse for +hating. It is the innocent fellow-creature, otherwise inoffensive to me, +whom I find I have involuntarily joined on turning a corner. I suppose +the Mississippi, which was flowing quietly along, minding its own +business, hates the Missouri for coming into it all at once with its +muddy stream. I suppose the Missouri in like manner hates the +Mississippi for diluting with its limpid, but insipid current the rich +reminiscences of the varied soils through which its own stream has +wandered. I will not compare myself, to the clear or the turbid current, +but I will own that my heart sinks when I find all of a sudden I am in +for a corner confluence, and I cease loving my neighbor as myself until I +can get away from him. + +--These antipathies are at least weaknesses; they may be sins in the eye +of the Recording Angel. I often reproach myself with my wrong-doings. I +should like sometimes to thank Heaven for saving me from some kinds of +transgression, and even for granting me some qualities that if I dared I +should be disposed to call virtues. I should do so, I suppose, if I did +not remember the story of the Pharisee. That ought not to hinder me. +The parable was told to illustrate a single virtue, humility, and the +most unwarranted inferences have been drawn from it as to the whole +character of the two parties. It seems not at all unlikely, but rather +probable, that the Pharisee was a fairer dealer, a better husband, and a +more charitable person than the Publican, whose name has come down to us +"linked with one virtue," but who may have been guilty, for aught that +appears to the contrary, of "a thousand crimes." Remember how we limit +the application of other parables. The lord, it will be recollected, +commended the unjust steward because he had done wisely. His shrewdness +was held up as an example, but after all he was a miserable swindler, and +deserved the state-prison as much as many of our financial operators. The +parable of the Pharisee and the Publican is a perpetual warning against +spiritual pride. But it must not frighten any one of us out of being +thankful that he is not, like this or that neighbor, under bondage to +strong drink or opium, that he is not an Erie-Railroad Manager, and that +his head rests in virtuous calm on his own pillow. If he prays in the +morning to be kept out of temptation as well as for his daily bread, +shall he not return thanks at night that he has not fallen into sin as +well as that his stomach has been filled? I do not think the poor +Pharisee has ever had fair play, and I am afraid a good many people sin +with the comforting, half-latent intention of smiting their breasts +afterwards and repeating the prayer of the Publican. + + (Sensation.) + +This little movement which I have thus indicated seemed to give the +Master new confidence in his audience. He turned over several pages +until he came to a part of the interleaved volume where we could all see +he had written in a passage of new matter in red ink as of special +interest. + +--I told you, he said, in Latin, and I repeat it in English, that I have +freed my soul in these pages,--I have spoken my mind. I have read you a +few extracts, most of them of rather slight texture, and some of them, +you perhaps thought, whimsical. But I meant, if I thought you were in +the right mood for listening to it, to read you some paragraphs which +give in small compass the pith, the marrow, of all that my experience has +taught me. Life is a fatal complaint, and an eminently contagious one. +I took it early, as we all do, and have treated it all along with the +best palliatives I could get hold of, inasmuch as I could find no radical +cure for its evils, and have so far managed to keep pretty comfortable +under it. + +It is a great thing for a man to put the whole meaning of his life into a +few paragraphs, if he does it so that others can make anything out of it. +If he conveys his wisdom after the fashion of the old alchemists, he may +as well let it alone. He must talk in very plain words, and that is what +I have done. You want to know what a certain number of scores of years +have taught me that I think best worth telling. If I had half a dozen +square inches of paper, and one penful of ink, and five minutes to use +them in for the instruction of those who come after me, what should I put +down in writing? That is the question. + +Perhaps I should be wiser if I refused to attempt any such brief +statement of the most valuable lesson that life has taught me. I am by +no means sure that I had not better draw my pen through the page that +holds the quintessence of my vital experiences, and leave those who wish +to know what it is to distil to themselves from my many printed pages. +But I have excited your curiosity, and I see that you are impatient to +hear what the wisdom, or the folly, it may be, of a life shows for, when +it is crowded into a few lines as the fragrance of a gardenful of roses +is concentrated in a few drops of perfume. + +--By this time I confess I was myself a little excited. What was he +going to tell us? The Young Astronomer looked upon him with an eye as +clear and steady and brilliant as the evening star, but I could see that +he too was a little nervous, wondering what would come next. + +The old Master adjusted his large round spectacles, and began: + +--It has cost me fifty years to find my place in the Order of Things. I +had explored all the sciences; I had studied the literature of all ages; +I had travelled in many lands; I had learned how to follow the working of +thought in men and of sentiment and instinct in women. I had examined +for myself all the religions that could make out any claim for +themselves. I had fasted and prayed with the monks of a lonely convent; +I had mingled with the crowds that shouted glory at camp-meetings; I had +listened to the threats of Calvinists and the promises of Universalists; +I had been a devout attendant on a Jewish Synagogue; I was in +correspondence with an intelligent Buddhist; and I met frequently with +the inner circle of Rationalists, who believed in the persistence of +Force, and the identity of alimentary substances with virtue, and were +reconstructing the universe on this basis, with absolute exclusion of all +Supernumeraries. In these pursuits I had passed the larger part of my +half-century of existence, as yet with little satisfaction. It was on +the morning of my fiftieth birthday that the solution of the great +problem I had sought so long came to me as a simple formula, with a few +grand but obvious inferences. I will repeat the substance of this final +intuition: + +The one central fact an the Order of Things which solves all questions +is: + +At this moment we were interrupted by a knock at the Master's door. It +was most inopportune, for he was on the point of the great disclosure, +but common politeness compelled him to answer it, and as the step which +we had heard was that of one of the softer-footed sex, he chose to rise +from his chair and admit his visitor. + +This visitor was our Landlady. She was dressed with more than usual +nicety, and her countenance showed clearly that she came charged with an +important communication. + +--I did n't low there was company with you, said the Landlady,--but it's +jest as well. I've got something to tell my boarders that I don't want +to tell them, and if I must do it, I may as well tell you all at once as +one to a time. I 'm agoing to give up keeping boarders at the end of +this year,--I mean come the end of December. + +She took out a white handkerchief, at hand in expectation of what was to +happen, and pressed it to her eyes. There was an interval of silence. +The Master closed his book and laid it on the table. The Young +Astronomer did not look as much surprised as I should have expected. I +was completely taken aback,--I had not thought of such a sudden breaking +up of our little circle. + +When the Landlady had recovered her composure, she began again: + +The Lady that's been so long with me is going to a house of her own, +--one she has bought back again, for it used to belong to her folks. It's +a beautiful house, and the sun shines in at the front windows all day +long. She's going to be wealthy again, but it doos n't make any +difference in her ways. I've had boarders complain when I was doing as +well as I knowed how for them, but I never heerd a word from her that +wasn't as pleasant as if she'd been talking to the Governor's lady. I've +knowed what it was to have women-boarders that find fault,--there's some +of 'em would quarrel with me and everybody at my table; they would +quarrel with the Angel Gabriel if he lived in the house with 'em, and +scold at him and tell him he was always dropping his feathers round, if +they could n't find anything else to bring up against him. + +Two other boarders of mine has given me notice that they was expecting to +leave come the first of January. I could fill up their places easy +enough, for ever since that first book was wrote that called people's +attention to my boarding-house, I've had more wanting to come than I +wanted to keep. + +But I'm getting along in life, and I ain't quite so rugged as I used to +be. My daughter is well settled and my son is making his own living. +I've done a good deal of hard work in my time, and I feel as if I had a +right to a little rest. There's nobody knows what a woman that has the +charge of a family goes through, but God Almighty that made her. I've +done my best for them that I loved, and for them that was under my roof. +My husband and my children was well cared for when they lived, and he and +them little ones that I buried has white marble head-stones and +foot-stones, and an iron fence round the lot, and a place left for me +betwixt him and the.... + +Some has always been good to me,--some has made it a little of a strain +to me to get along. When a woman's back aches with overworking herself +to keep her house in shape, and a dozen mouths are opening at her three +times a day, like them little young birds that split their heads open so +you can a'most see into their empty stomachs, and one wants this and +another wants that, and provisions is dear and rent is high, and nobody +to look to,--then a sharp word cuts, I tell you, and a hard look goes +right to your heart. I've seen a boarder make a face at what I set +before him, when I had tried to suit him jest as well as I knew how, and +I haven't cared to eat a thing myself all the rest of that day, and I've +laid awake without a wink of sleep all night. And then when you come +down the next morning all the boarders stare at you and wonder what makes +you so low-spirited, and why you don't look as happy and talk as cheerful +as one of them rich ladies that has dinner-parties, where they've nothing +to do but give a few orders, and somebody comes and cooks their dinner, +and somebody else comes and puts flowers on the table, and a lot of men +dressed up like ministers come and wait on everybody, as attentive as +undertakers at a funeral. + +And that reminds me to tell you that I'm agoing to live with my daughter. +Her husband's a very nice man, and when he isn't following a corpse, he's +as good company as if he was a member of the city council. My son, he's +agoing into business with the old Doctor he studied with, and he's agoing +to board with me at my daughter's for a while,--I suppose he'll be +getting a wife before long. [This with a pointed look at our young +friend, the Astronomer.] + +It is n't but a little while longer that we are going to be together, and +I want to say to you gentlemen, as I mean to say to the others and as I +have said to our two ladies, that I feel more obligated to, you for the +way you 've treated me than I know very well how to put into words. +Boarders sometimes expect too much of the ladies that provides for them. +Some days the meals are better than other days; it can't help being so. +Sometimes the provision-market is n't well supplied, sometimes the fire +in the cooking-stove does n't burn so well as it does other days; +sometimes the cook is n't so lucky as she might be. And there is +boarders who is always laying in wait for the days when the meals is not +quite so good as they commonly be, to pick a quarrel with the one that is +trying to serve them so as that they shall be satisfied. But you've all +been good and kind to me. I suppose I'm not quite so spry and +quick-sighted as I was a dozen years ago, when my boarder wrote that +first book so many have asked me about. But--now I'm going to stop +taking boarders. I don't believe you'll think much about what I did n't +do,--because I couldn't,--but remember that at any rate I tried honestly +to serve you. I hope God will bless all that set at my table, old and +young, rich and poor, merried and single, and single that hopes soon to +be merried. My husband that's dead and gone always believed that we all +get to heaven sooner or later,--and sence I've grown older and buried so +many that I've loved I've come to feel that perhaps I should meet all of +them that I've known here--or at least as many of 'em as I wanted to--in +a better world. And though I don't calculate there is any +boarding-houses in heaven, I hope I shall some time or other meet them +that has set round my table one year after another, all together, where +there is no fault-finding with the food and no occasion for it,--and if I +do meet them and you there--or anywhere,--if there is anything I can do +for you.... + +....Poor dear soul! Her ideas had got a little mixed, and her heart was +overflowing, and the white handkerchief closed the scene with its timely +and greatly needed service. + +--What a pity, I have often thought, that she came in just at that +precise moment! For the old Master was on the point of telling us, and +through one of us the reading world,--I mean that fraction of it which +has reached this point of the record,--at any rate, of telling you, +Beloved, through my pen, his solution of a great problem we all have to +deal with. We were some weeks longer together, but he never offered to +continue his reading. At length I ventured to give him a hint that our +young friend and myself would both of us be greatly gratified if he would +begin reading from his unpublished page where he had left off. + +--No, sir,--he said,--better not, better not. That which means so much +to me, the writer, might be a disappointment, or at least a puzzle, to +you, the listener. Besides, if you'll take my printed book and be at the +trouble of thinking over what it says, and put that with what you've +heard me say, and then make those comments and reflections which will be +suggested to a mind in so many respects like mine as is your own,--excuse +my good opinion of myself, + +(It is a high compliment to me, I replied) you will perhaps find you have +the elements of the formula and its consequences which I was about to +read you. It's quite as well to crack your own filberts as to borrow the +use of other people's teeth. I think we will wait awhile before we pour +out the Elixir Vitae. + +--To tell the honest truth, I suspect the Master has found out that his +formula does not hold water quite so perfectly as he was thinking, so +long as he kept it to himself, and never thought of imparting it to +anybody else. The very minute a thought is threatened with publicity it +seems to shrink towards mediocrity, as. I have noticed that a great +pumpkin, the wonder of a village, seemed to lose at least a third of its +dimensions between the field where it grew and the cattle-show +fair-table, where it took its place with other enormous pumpkins from +other wondering villages. But however that maybe, I shall always regret +that I had not the opportunity of judging for myself how completely the +Master's formula, which, for him, at least, seemed to have solved the +great problem, would have accomplished that desirable end for me. + +The Landlady's announcement of her intention to give up keeping boarders +was heard with regret by all who met around her table. The Member of the +Haouse inquired of me whether I could tell him if the Lamb Tahvern was +kept well abaout these times. He knew that members from his place used +to stop there, but he hadn't heerd much abaout it of late years. I had +to inform him that that fold of rural innocence had long ceased offering +its hospitalities to the legislative, flock. He found refuge at last, I +have learned, in a great public house in the northern section of the +city, where, as he said, the folks all went up stairs in a rat-trap, and +the last I heard of him was looking out of his somewhat elevated +attic-window in a northwesterly direction in hopes that he might perhaps +get a sight of the Grand Monadnock, a mountain in New Hampshire which I +have myself seen from the top of Bunker Hill Monument. + +The Member of the Haouse seems to have been more in a hurry to find a new +resting-place than the other boarders. By the first of January, however, +our whole company was scattered, never to meet again around the board +where we had been so long together. + +The Lady moved to the house where she had passed many of her prosperous +years. It had been occupied by a rich family who had taken it nearly as +it stood, and as the pictures had been dusted regularly, and the books +had never been handled, she found everything in many respects as she had +left it, and in some points improved, for the rich people did not know +what else to do, and so they spent money without stint on their house and +its adornments, by all of which she could not help profiting. I do not +choose to give the street and number of the house where she lives, but +a-great many poor people know very well where it is, and as a matter of +course the rich ones roll up to her door in their carriages by the dozen +every fine Monday while anybody is in town. + +It is whispered that our two young folks are to be married before another +season, and that the Lady has asked them to come and stay with her for a +while. Our Scheherezade is to write no more stories. It is astonishing +to see what a change for the better in her aspect a few weeks of +brain-rest and heart's ease have wrought in her. I doubt very much +whether she ever returns to literary labor. The work itself was almost +heart-breaking, but the effect upon her of the sneers and cynical +insolences of the literary rough who came at her in mask and brass +knuckles was to give her what I fear will be a lifelong disgust against +any writing for the public, especially in any of the periodicals. I am +not sorry that she should stop writing, but I am sorry that she should +have been silenced in such a rude way. I doubt, too, whether the Young +Astronomer will pass the rest of his life in hunting for comets and +planets. I think he has found an attraction that will call him down from +the celestial luminaries to a light not less pure and far less remote. +And I am inclined to believe that the best answer to many of those +questions which have haunted him and found expression in his verse will +be reached by a very different channel from that of lonely contemplation, +the duties, the cares, the responsible realities of a life drawn out of +itself by the power of newly awakened instincts and affections. The +double star was prophetic,--I thought it would be. + +The Register of Deeds is understood to have been very handsomely treated +by the boarder who owes her good fortune to his sagacity and activity. +He has engaged apartments at a very genteel boarding-house not far from +the one where we have all been living. The Salesman found it a simple +matter to transfer himself to an establishment over the way; he had very +little to move, and required very small accommodations. + +The Capitalist, however, seems to have felt it impossible to move without +ridding himself of a part at--least of his encumbrances. The community +was startled by the announcement that a citizen who did not wish his name +to be known had made a free gift of a large sum of money--it was in tens +of thousands--to an institution of long standing and high character in +the city of which he was a quiet resident. The source of such a gift +could not long be kept secret. It, was our economical, not to say +parsimonious Capitalist who had done this noble act, and the poor man had +to skulk through back streets and keep out of sight, as if he were a show +character in a travelling caravan, to avoid the acknowledgments of his +liberality, which met him on every hand and put him fairly out of +countenance. + +That Boy has gone, in virtue of a special invitation, to make a visit of +indefinite length at the house of the father of the older boy, whom we +know by the name of Johnny. Of course he is having a good time, for +Johnny's father is full of fun, and tells first-rate stories, and if +neither of the boys gets his brains kicked out by the pony, or blows +himself up with gunpowder, or breaks through the ice and gets drowned, +they will have a fine time of it this winter. + +The Scarabee could not bear to remove his collections, and the old Master +was equally unwilling to disturb his books. It was arranged, therefore, +that they should keep their apartments until the new tenant should come +into the house, when, if they were satisfied with her management, they +would continue as her boarders. + +The last time I saw the Scarabee he was still at work on the meloe +question. He expressed himself very pleasantly towards all of us, his +fellow-boarders, and spoke of the kindness and consideration with which +the Landlady had treated him when he had been straitened at times for +want of means. Especially he seemed to be interested in our young couple +who were soon to be united. His tired old eyes glistened as he asked +about them,--could it be that their little romance recalled some early +vision of his own? However that may be, he got up presently and went to +a little box in which, as he said, he kept some choice specimens. He +brought to me in his hand something which glittered. It was an exquisite +diamond beetle. + +--If you could get that to her,--he said,--they tell me that ladies +sometimes wear them in their hair. If they are out of fashion, she can +keep it till after they're married, and then perhaps after a while there +may be--you know--you know what I mean--there may be larvae, that 's what +I 'm thinking there may be, and they 'll like to look at it. + +--As he got out the word larvae, a faint sense of the ridiculous seemed +to take hold of the Scarabee, and for the first and only time during my +acquaintance with him a slight attempt at a smile showed itself on his +features. It was barely perceptible and gone almost as soon as seen, yet +I am pleased to put it on record that on one occasion at least in his +life the Scarabee smiled. + +The old Master keeps adding notes and reflections and new suggestions to +his interleaved volume, but I doubt if he ever gives them to the public. +The study he has proposed to himself does not grow easier the longer it +is pursued. The whole Order of Things can hardly be completely +unravelled in any single person's lifetime, and I suspect he will have to +adjourn the final stage of his investigations to that more luminous realm +where the Landlady hopes to rejoin the company of boarders who are +nevermore to meet around her cheerful and well-ordered table. + +The curtain has now fallen, and I show myself a moment before it to thank +my audience and say farewell. The second comer is commonly less welcome +than the first, and the third makes but a rash venture. I hope I have not +wholly disappointed those who have been so kind to my predecessors. + +To you, Beloved, who have never failed to cut the leaves which hold my +record, who have never nodded over its pages, who have never hesitated in +your allegiance, who have greeted me with unfailing smiles and part from +me with unfeigned regrets, to you I look my last adieu as I bow myself +out of sight, trusting my poor efforts to your always kind remembrance. + + EPILOGUE TO THE BREAKFAST-TABLE SERIES + + AUTOCRAT--PROFESSOR--POET. + + AT A BOOKSTORE. + + Anno Domini 1972. + + A crazy bookcase, placed before + A low-price dealer's open door; + Therein arrayed in broken rows + A ragged crew of rhyme and prose, + The homeless vagrants, waifs and strays + Whose low estate this line betrays + (Set forth the lesser birds to lime) + YOUR CHOICE AMONG THESE BOOKS, 1 DIME! + + Ho! dealer; for its motto's sake + This scarecrow from the shelf I take; + Three starveling volumes bound in one, + Its covers warping in the sun. + Methinks it hath a musty smell, + I like its flavor none too well, + But Yorick's brain was far from dull, + Though Hamlet pah!'d, and dropped his skull. + + Why, here comes rain! The sky grows dark, + --Was that the roll of thunder? Hark! + The shop affords a safe retreat, + A chair extends its welcome seat, + The tradesman has a civil look + (I've paid, impromptu, for my book), + The clouds portend a sudden shower, + I'll read my purchase for an hour. + + .............. + + What have I rescued from the shelf? + A Boswell, writing out himself! + For though he changes dress and name, + The man beneath is still the same, + Laughing or sad, by fits and starts, + One actor in a dozen parts, + And whatsoe'er the mask may be, + The voice assures us, This is he. + + I say not this to cry him clown; + I find my Shakespeare in his clown, + His rogues the self-same parent own; + Nay! Satan talks in Milton's tone! + Where'er the ocean inlet strays, + The salt sea wave its source betrays, + Where'er the queen of summer blows, + She tells the zephyr, "I'm the rose!" + + And his is not the playwright's page; + His table does not ape the stage; + What matter if the figures seen + Are only shadows on a screen, + He finds in them his lurking thought, + And on their lips the words he sought, + Like one who sits before the keys + And plays a tune himself to please. + + And was he noted in his day? + Read, flattered, honored? Who shall say? + Poor wreck of time the wave has cast + To find a peaceful shore at last, + Once glorying in thy gilded name + And freighted deep with hopes of fame, + Thy leaf is moistened with a tear, + The first for many a long, long year! + + For be it more or less of art + That veils the lowliest human heart + Where passion throbs, where friendship glows, + Where pity's tender tribute flows, + Where love has lit its fragrant fire, + And sorrow quenched its vain desire, + For me the altar is divine, + Its flame, its ashes,--all are mine! + + And thou, my brother, as I look + And see thee pictured in thy book, + Thy years on every page confessed + In shadows lengthening from the west, + Thy glance that wanders, as it sought + Some freshly opening flower of thought, + Thy hopeful nature, light and free, + I start to find myself in thee! + + Come, vagrant, outcast, wretch forlorn + In leather jerkin stained and torn, + Whose talk has filled my idle hour + And made me half forget the shower, + I'll do at least as much for you, + Your coat I'll patch, your gilt renew, + Read you,--perhaps,--some other time. + Not bad, my bargain! Price one dime! + Not bad, my bargain! Price one dime! + + + + + + +OVER THE TEACUPS + +by Oliver W. Holmes + + + +PREFACE. + + +The kind way in which this series of papers has been received has been a +pleasure greater than I dared to anticipate. I felt that I was a late +comer in the midst of a crowd of ardent and eager candidates for public +attention, that I had already had my day, and that if, like the +unfortunate Frenchman we used read about, I had "come again," I ought not +to surprised if I received the welcome of "Monsieur Tonson." + +It has not proved so. My old readers have come forward in the +pleasantest possible way and assured me that they were glad to see me +again. There is no need, therefore, of apologies or explanations. I +thought I had something left to say and I have found listeners. In +writing these papers I have had occupation and kept myself in relation +with my fellow-beings. New sympathies, new sources of encouragement, if +not of inspiration, have opened themselves before me and cheated the +least promising season of life of much that seemed to render it dreary +and depressing. What particularly pleased me has been the freedom of +criticisms which I have seen from disadvantageous comparisons of my later +with my earlier writings. + +I should like a little rest from literary work before the requiescat +ensures my repose from earthly labors, but I will not be rash enough to +promise that I will not even once again greet my old and new readers if +the impulse becomes irresistible to renew a companionship which has been +to me such a source of happiness. + +BEVERLY FARM, Mass., August, 1891. + +O. W. H. + + + + +OVER THE TEACUPS. + + + +I + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + +This series of papers was begun in March, 1888. A single number was +printed, when it was interrupted the course of events, and not resumed +until nearly years later, in January, 1890. The plan of the series was +not formed in my mind when I wrote the number. In returning to my task I +found that my original plan had shaped itself in the underground +laboratory of my thought so that some changes had to be made in what I +had written. As I proceeded, the slight story which formed a part of my +programme eloped itself without any need of much contrivance on my, part. +Given certain characters in a writer's conception, if they are real to +him, as they ought to be they will act in such or such a way, according +to the law of their nature. It was pretty safe to assume that intimate +relations would spring up between some members of our mixed company; and +it was not rash conjecture that some of these intimacies might end in +such attachment as would furnish us hints, at least, of a love-story. + +As to the course of the conversations which would take place, very little +could be guessed beforehand. Various subjects of interest would be +likely to present themselves, without definite order, oftentimes abruptly +and, as it would seem, capriciously. Conversation in such a mixed company +as that of "The Teacups" is likely to be suggestive rather than +exhaustive. Continuous discourse is better adapted to the lecture-room +than to the tea-table. There is quite enough of it, I fear too much,--in +these pages. But the reader must take the reports of our talks as they +were jotted down. A patchwork quilt is not like a piece of Gobelin +tapestry; but it has its place and its use. + +Some will feel a temptation to compare these conversations with those +earlier ones, and remark unamiably upon their difference. This is hardly +fair, and is certainly not wise. They are produced under very different +conditions, and betray that fact in every line. It is better to take +them by themselves; and, if my reader finds anything to please or profit +from, I shall be contented, and he, I feel sure, will not be ungrateful. + +The readers who take up this volume may recollect a series of +conversations held many years ago over the breakfast-table, and reported +for their more or less profitable entertainment. Those were not very +early breakfasts at which the talks took place, but at any rate the sun +was rising, and the guests had not as yet tired themselves with the +labors of the day. The morning cup of coffee has an exhilaration about +it which the cheering influence of the afternoon or evening cup of tea +cannot be expected to reproduce. The toils of the forenoon, the heats of +midday, in the warm season, the slanting light of the descending sun, or +the sobered translucency of twilight have subdued the vivacity of the +early day. Yet under the influence of the benign stimulant many trains +of thought which will bear recalling, may suggest themselves to some of +our quiet circle and prove not uninteresting to a certain number of +readers. + +How early many of my old breakfast companions went off to bed! I am +thinking not merely of those who sat round our table, but of that larger +company of friends who listened to our conversations as reported. Dear +girl with the silken ringlets, dear boy with the down-shadowed cheek, +your grandfather, your grandmother, turned over the freshly printed +leaves that told the story of those earlier meetings around the plain +board where so many things were said and sung, not all of which have +quite faded from memory of this overburdened and forgetful time. Your +father, your mother, found the scattered leaves gathered in a volume, and +smiled upon them as not uncompanionable acquaintances. My tea-table +makes no promises. There is no programme of exercises to studied +beforehand. What if I should content myself with a single report of what +was said and done over our teacups? Perhaps my young reader would be +glad to let me off, for there are talkers enough who have not yet left +their breakfast-tables; and nobody can blame the young people for +preferring the thoughts and the language of their own generation, with +all its future before it, to those of their grandfathers contemporaries. + +My reader, young or old, will please to observe that I have left myself +entire freedom as to the sources of what may be said over the teacups. I +have not told how many cups are commonly on the board, but by using the +plural I have implied that there is at least one other talker or listener +beside myself, and for all that appears there may be a dozen. There will +be no regulation length to my reports,--no attempt to make out a certain +number of pages. I have no contract to fill so many columns, no pledge +to contribute so many numbers. I can stop on this first page if I do not +care to say anything more, and let this article stand by itself if so +minded. What a sense of freedom it gives not to write by the yard or the +column! + +When one writes for an English review or magazine at so many guineas a +sheet, the temptation is very great to make one's contribution cover as +many sheets as possible. We all know the metallic taste of articles +written under this powerful stimulus. If Bacon's Essays had been +furnished by a modern hand to the "Quarterly Review" at fifty guineas a +sheet, what a great book it would have taken to hold them! + +The first thing which suggests itself to me, as I contemplate my slight +project, is the liability of repeating in the evening what I may have +said in the morning in one form or another, and printed in these or other +pages. When it suddenly flashes into the consciousness of a writer who +had been long before the public, "Why, I have said all that once or +oftener in my books or essays, and here it is again; the same old +thought, the same old image, the same old story!" it irritates him, and +is likely to stir up the monosyllables of his unsanctified vocabulary. +He sees in imagination a thousand readers, smiling or yawning as they say +to themselves, "We have had all that before," and turn to another +writer's performance for something not quite so stale and superfluous. +This is what the writer says to himself about the reader. + +The idiot! Does the simpleton really think that everybody has read all +he has written? Does he really believe that everybody remembers all of +his, writer's, words he may happen to have read? At one of those famous +dinners of the Phi Beta Kappa Society; where no reporter was ever +admitted, and which nothing ever leaks out about what is said and done, +Mr. Edward Everett, in his after-dinner speech, quoted these lines from +the AEneid, giving a liberal English version of them, which he applied to +the Oration just delivered by Mr. Emerson: + + Tres imbris torti radios, tres nubis aquosae + Addiderant, rutili tres ignis, et alitis Austri. + +His nephew, the ingenious, inventive, and inexhaustible. Edward Everett +Hale, tells the story of this quotation, and of the various uses to which +it might plied in after-dinner speeches. How often he ventured to repeat +it at the Phi Beta Kappa dinners I am not sure; but as he reproduced it +with his lively embellishments and fresh versions and artful +circumlocutions, not one person in ten remembered that he had listened to +those same words in those same accents only a twelvemonth ago. The poor +deluded creatures who take it for granted that all the world remembers +what they have said, and laugh at them when they say it over again, may +profit by this recollection. But what if one does say the same +things,--of course in a little different form each time,--over her? If +he has anything to say worth saying, that is just what he ought to do. +Whether he ought to or not, it is very certain that this is what all who +write much or speak much necessarily must and will do. Think of the +clergyman who preaches fifty or a hundred or more sermons every year for +fifty years! Think of the stump speaker who shouts before a hundred +audiences during the same political campaign, always using the same +arguments, illustrations, and catchwords! Think of the editor, as +Carlyle has pictured him, threshing the same straw every morning, until +we know what is coming when we see the first line, as we do when we read +the large capitals at the head of a thrilling story, which ends in an +advertisement of an all-cleansing soap or an all-curing remedy! + +The latch-key which opens into the inner chambers of my consciousness +fits, as I have sufficient reason to believe, the private apartments of a +good many other people's thoughts. The longer we live, the more we find +we are like other persons. When I meet with any facts in my own mental +experience, I feel almost sure that I shall find them repeated or +anticipated in the writings or the conversation of others. This feeling +gives one a freedom in telling his own personal history he could not have +enjoyed without it. My story belongs to you as much as to me. De te +fabula narratur. Change the personal pronoun,--that is all. It gives +many readers a singular pleasure to find a writer telling them something +they have long known or felt, but which they have never before found any +one to put in words for them. An author does not always know when he is +doing the service of the angel who stirred the waters of the pool of +Bethesda. Many a reader is delighted to find his solitary thought has a +companion, and is grateful to the benefactor who has strengthened him. +This is the advantage of the humble reader over the ambitious and +self-worshipping writer. It is not with him pereant illi, but beati sunt +illi qui pro nobis nostra dixerunt,-Blessed are those who have said our +good things for us. + +What I have been saying of repetitions leads me into a train of +reflections like which I think many readers will find something in their +own mental history. The area of consciousness is covered by layers of +habitual thoughts, as a sea-beach is covered with wave-worn, rounded +pebbles, shaped, smoothed, and polished by long attrition against each +other. These thoughts remain very much the same from day to day, from +week to week; and as we grow older, from month to month, and from year to +year. The tides of wakening consciousness roll in upon them daily as we +unclose our eyelids, and keep up the gentle movement and murmur of +ordinary mental respiration until we close them again in slumber. When +we think we are thinking, we are for the most part only listening to +sound of attrition between these inert elements of intelligence. They +shift their places a little, they change their relations to each other, +they roll over and turn up new surfaces. Now and then a new fragment is +cast in among them, to be worn and rounded and takes its place with the +others, but the pebbled floor of consciousness is almost as stationary as +the pavement of a city thoroughfare. + +It so happens that at this particular tine I have something to tell which +I am quite sure is not one of rolled pebbles which my reader has seen +before in any of my pages, or, as I feel confident, in those of any other +writer. + +If my reader asks why I do not send the statement I am going to make to +some one of the special periodicals that deal with such subjects, my +answer is, that I like to tell my own stories at my own time, in own +chosen columns, where they will be read by a class of readers with whom I +like to talk. + +All men of letters or of science, all writers well known to the public, +are constantly tampered with, in these days, by a class of predaceous and +hungry fellow-laborers who may be collectively spoken of as the +brain-tappers. They want an author's ideas on the subjects which +interest them, the inquirers, from the gravest religious and moral +questions to the most trivial matters of his habits and his whims and +fancies. Some of their questions he cannot answer; some he does not +choose to answer; some he is not yet ready to answer, and when he is +ready he prefers to select his own organ of publication. I do not find +fault with all the brain-tappers. Some of them are doing excellent +service by accumulating facts which could not otherwise be attained. Rut +one gets tired of the strings of questions sent him, to which he is +expected to return an answer, plucked, ripe or unripe, from his private +tree of knowledge. The brain-tappers are like the owner of the goose that +laid the golden eggs. They would have the embryos and germs of one's +thoughts out of the mental oviducts, and cannot wait for their +spontaneous evolution and extrusion. + +The story I have promised is, on the whole, the most remarkable of a +series which I may have told in part at some previous date, but which, if +I have not told, may be worth recalling at a future time. + +Some few of my readers may remember that in a former paper I suggested +the possibility of the existence of an idiotic area in the human mind, +corresponding to the blind spot in the human retina. I trust that I +shall not be thought to have let my wits go wandering in that region of +my own intellectual domain, when I relate a singular coincidence which +very lately occurred in my experience, and add a few remarks made by one +of our company on the delicate and difficult but fascinating subject +which it forces upon our attention. I will first copy the memorandum +made at the time: + +"Remarkable coincidence. On Monday, April 18th, being at table from 6.30 +P. M. to 7.30, with ________and ________ the two ladies of my +household, I told them of the case of 'trial by battel' offered by +Abraham Thornton in 1817. I mentioned his throwing down his glove, which +was not taken up by the brother of his victim, and so he had to be let +off, for the old law was still in force. I mentioned that Abraham +Thornton was said to have come to this country, 'and [I added] he may be +living near us, for aught that I know." I rose from the table, and found +an English letter waiting for me, left while I sat at dinner. A copy the +first portion of this letter: + +'20 ALFRED PLACE, West (near Museum) South Kensington, LONDON, S. W. +April 7, 1887. +DR. O. W. HOLMES: + +DEAR SIR,--In travelling, the other day, I met with a reprint of the very +interesting case of Thornton for murder, 1817. The prisoner pleaded +successfully the old Wager of Battel. I thought you would like to read +the account, and send it with this.... + +Yours faithfully, +FRED. RATHBONE.' + +Mr. Rathbone is a well-known dealer in old Wedgwood and +eighteenth-century art. As a friend of my hospitable entertainer, Mr. +Willett, he had shown me many attentions in England, but I was not +expecting any communication from him; and when, fresh from my +conversation, I found this letter just arrived by mail, and left while I +was at table, and on breaking the seal read what I had a few moments +before been; telling, I was greatly surprised, and immediately made a +note of the occurrence, as given above. + +I had long been familiar with all the details of this celebrated case, +but had not referred to it, so far as I can remember, for months or +years. I know of no train of thought which led me to speak of it on that +particular day. I had never alluded to it before in that company, nor +had I ever spoken of it with Mr. Rathbone. + +I told this story over our teacups. Among the company at the table is a +young English girl. She seemed to be amused by the story. "Fancy!" she +said,--"how very very odd!" "It was a striking and curious coincidence," +said the professor who was with us at the table. "As remarkable as two +teaspoons in one saucer," was the comment of a college youth who happened +to be one of the company. But the member of our circle whom the reader +will hereafter know as Number Seven, began stirring his tea in a nervous +sort of way, and I knew that he was getting ready to say something about +the case. An ingenious man he is, with a brain like a tinder-box, its +contents catching at any spark that is flying about. I always like to +hear what he says when his tinder brain has a spark fall into it. It +does not follow that because he is often wrong he may not sometimes be +right, for he is no fool. He treated my narrative very seriously. + +The reader need not be startled at the new terms he introduces. Indeed, I +am not quite sure that some thinking people will not adopt his view of +the matter, which seems to have a degree of plausibility as he states and +illustrates it. + +"The impulse which led you to tell that story passed directly from the +letter, which came charged from the cells of the cerebral battery of your +correspondent. The distance at which the action took place [the letter +was left on a shelf twenty-four feet from the place where I was sitting] +shows this charge to have been of notable intensity. + +"Brain action through space without material symbolism, such as speech, +expression, etc., is analogous to electrical induction. Charge the prime +conductor of an electrical machine, and a gold-leaf electrometer, far off +from it, will at once be disturbed. Electricity, as we all know, can be +stored and transported as if it were a measurable fluid. + +"Your incident is a typical example of cerebral induction from a source +containing stored cerebricity. I use this word, not to be found in my +dictionaries, as expressing the brain-cell power corresponding to +electricity. Think how long it was before we had attained any real +conception of the laws that govern the wonderful agent, which now works +in harness with the other trained and subdued forces! It is natural that +cerebricity should be the last of the unweighable agencies to be +understood. The human eye had seen heaven and earth and all that in them +is before it saw itself as our instruments enable us to see it. This +fact of yours, which seems so strange to you, belongs to a great series +of similar facts familiarly known now to many persons, and before long to +be recognized as generally as those relating to the electric telegraph +and the slaving `dynamo.' + +"What! you cannot conceive of a charge of cerebricity fastening itself on +a letter-sheet and clinging to it for weeks, while it was shuffling about +in mail-bags, rolling over the ocean, and shaken up in railroad cars? +And yet the odor of a grain of musk will hang round a note or a dress for +a lifetime. Do you not remember what Professor Silliman says, in that +pleasant journal of his, about the little ebony cabinet which Mary, Queen +of Scots, brought with her from France,--how 'its drawers still exhale +the sweetest perfumes'? If they could hold their sweetness for more than +two hundred years, why should not a written page retain for a week or a +month the equally mysterious effluence poured over it from the thinking +marrow, and diffuse its vibrations to another excitable nervous centre?" + +I have said that although our imaginative friend is given to wild +speculations, he is not always necessarily wrong. We know too little +about the laws of brain-force to be dogmatic with reference to it. I am, +myself, therefore, fully in sympathy with the psychological +investigators. When it comes to the various pretended sciences by which +men and women make large profits, attempts at investigation are very apt +to be used as lucrative advertisements for the charlatans. But a series +of investigations of the significance of certain popular beliefs and +superstitions, a careful study of the relations of certain facts to each +other,--whether that of cause and effect, or merely of coincidence,--is a +task not unworthy of sober-minded and well-trained students of nature. +Such a series of investigations has been recently instituted, and was +reported at a late meeting held in the rooms of the Boston Natural +History Society. The results were, mostly negative, and in one sense a +disappointment. A single case, related by Professor Royce, attracted a +good deal of attention. It was reported in the next morning's +newspapers, and will be given at full length, doubtless, in the next +number of the Psychological Journal. The leading facts were, briefly, +these: A lady in Hamburg, Germany, wrote, on the 22d of June last, that +she had what she supposed to be nightmare on the night of the 17th, five +days before. "It seemed," she wrote, "to belong to you; to be a horrid +pain in your head, as if it were being forcibly jammed into an iron +casque, or some such pleasant instrument of torture." It proved that on +that same 17th of June her sister was undergoing a painful operation at +the hands of a dentist. "No single case," adds Professor Royce, "proves, +or even makes probable, the existence of telepathic toothaches; but if +there are any more cases of this sort, we want to hear of them, and that +all the more because no folk-lore and no supernatural horrors have as yet +mingled with the natural and well-known impressions that people associate +with the dentist's chair." + +The case I have given is, I am confident, absolutely free from every +source of error. I do not remember that Mr. Rathbone had communicated +with me since he sent me a plentiful supply of mistletoe a year ago last +Christmas. The account I received from him was cut out of "The Sporting +Times" of March 5, 1887. My own knowledge of the case came from "Kirby's +Wonderful Museum," a work presented to me at least thirty years ago. I +had not looked at the account, spoken of it, nor thought of it for a long +time, when it came to me by a kind of spontaneous generation, as it +seemed, having no connection with any previous train of thought that I +was aware of. I consider the evidence of entire independence, apart from +possible "telepathic" causation, completely water-proof, airtight, +incombustible, and unassailable. + +I referred, when first reporting this curious case of coincidence, with +suggestive circumstances, to two others, one of which I said was the most +picturesque and the other the most unlikely, as it would seem, to happen. +This is the first of those two cases:-- + +Grenville Tudor Phillips was a younger brother of George Phillips, my +college classmate, and of Wendell Phillips, the great orator. He lived +in Europe a large part of his life, but at last returned, and, in the +year 1863, died at the house of his brother George. I read his death in +the paper; but, having seen and heard very little of him during his life, +should not have been much impressed by the fact, but for the following +occurrence: between the time of Grenville Phillips's death and his +burial, I was looking in upon my brother, then living in the house in +which we were both born. Some books which had been my father's were +stored in shelves in the room I used to occupy when at Cambridge. +Passing my eye over them, an old dark quarto attracted my attention. It +must be a Bible, I said to myself, perhaps a rare one,--the "Breeches" +Bible or some other interesting specimen. I took it from the shelves, +and, as I did so, an old slip of paper fell out and fluttered to the +floor. On lifting it I read these words: + +The name is Grenville Tudor. + +What was the meaning of this slip of paper coming to light at this time, +after reposing undisturbed so long? There was only one way of explaining +its presence in my father's old Bible;--a copy of the Scriptures which I +did not remember ever having handled or looked into before. In +christening a child the minister is liable to forget the name, just at +the moment when he ought to remember it. My father preached occasionally +at the Brattle Street Church. I take this for granted, for I remember +going with him on one occasion when he did so. Nothing was more likely +than that he should be asked to officiate at the baptism of the younger +son of his wife's first cousin, Judge Phillips. This slip was handed him +to remind him of the name: He brought it home, put it in that old Bible, +and there it lay quietly for nearly half a century, when, as if it had +just heard of Mr. Phillips's decease, it flew from its hiding-place and +startled the eyes of those who had just read his name in the daily column +of deaths. It would be hard to find anything more than a mere +coincidence here; but it seems curious enough to be worth telling. + +The second of these two last stories must be told in prosaic detail to +show its whole value as a coincidence. + +One evening while I was living in Charles Street, I received a call from +Dr. S., a well-known and highly respected Boston physician, a particular +friend of the late Alexander H. Stephens, vice-president of the Southern +Confederacy. It was with reference to a work which Mr. Stephens was +about to publish that Dr. S. called upon me. After talking that matter +over we got conversing on other subjects, among the rest a family +relationship existing between us,--not a very near one, but one which I +think I had seen mentioned in genealogical accounts. Mary S. (the last +name being the same as that of my visitant), it appeared, was the +great-great-grandmother of Mrs. H. and myself. After cordially +recognizing our forgotten relationship, now for the first time called to +mind, we parted, my guest leaving me for his own home. We had been +sitting in my library on the lower floor. On going up-stairs where Mrs. +H. was sitting alone, just as I entered the room she pushed a paper +across the table towards me, saying that perhaps it might interest me. +It was one of a number of old family papers which she had brought from +the house of her mother, recently deceased. + +I opened the paper, which was an old-looking document, and found that it +was a copy, perhaps made in this century, of the will of that same Mary +S. about whom we had been talking down-stairs. + +If there is such a thing as a purely accidental coincidence this must be +considered an instance of it. + +All one can say about it is that it seems very unlikely that such a +coincidence should occur, but it did. + +I have not tried to keep my own personality out of these stories. But +after all, how little difference it makes whether or not a writer appears +with a mask on which everybody can take off,--whether he bolts his door +or not, when everybody can look in at his windows, and all his entrances +are at the mercy of the critic's skeleton key and the jimmy of any +ill-disposed assailant! + +The company have been silent listeners for the most part; but the reader +will have a chance to become better acquainted with some cf them by and +by. + + + + +II + +TO THE READER. + +I know that it is a hazardous experiment to address myself again to a +public which in days long past has given me a generous welcome. But my +readers have been, and are, a very faithful constituency. I think there +are many among them who would rather listen to an old voice they are used +to than to a new one of better quality, even if the "childish treble" +should betray itself now and then in the tones of the overtired organ. +But there must be others,--I am afraid many others,--who will exclaim: +"He has had his day, and why can't he be content? We don't want literary +revenants, superfluous veterans, writers who have worn out their welcome +and still insist on being attended to. Give us something fresh, +something that belongs to our day and generation. Your morning draught +was well enough, but we don't care for your evening slip-slop. You are +not in relation with us, with our time, our ideas, our aims, our +aspirations." + +Alas, alas! my friend,--my young friend, for your hair is not yet +whitened,--I am afraid you are too nearly right. No doubt,--no doubt. +Teacups are not coffee-cups. They do not hold so much. Their pallid +infusion is but a feeble stimulant compared with the black decoction +served at the morning board. And so, perhaps, if wisdom like yours were +compatible with years like mine, I should drop my pen and make no further +attempts upon your patience. + +But suppose that a writer who has reached and passed the natural limit of +serviceable years feels that he has some things which he would like to +say, and which may have an interest for a limited class of readers,--is +he not right in trying his powers and calmly taking the risk of failure? +Does it not seem rather lazy and cowardly, because he cannot "beat his +record," or even come up to the level of what he has done in his prime, +to shrink from exerting his talent, such as it is, now that he has +outlived the period of his greatest vigor? A singer who is no longer +equal to the trials of opera on the stage may yet please at a chamber +concert or in the drawing-room. There is one gratification an old author +can afford a certain class of critics: that, namely, of comparing him as +he is with what he was. It is a pleasure to mediocrity to have its +superiors brought within range, so to speak; and if the ablest of them +will only live long enough, and keep on writing, there is no pop-gun that +cannot reach him. But I fear that this is an unamiable reflection, and I +am at this time in a very amiable mood. + +I confess that there is something agreeable to me in renewing my +relations with the reading public. Were it but a single appearance, it +would give me a pleasant glimpse of the time when I was known as a +frequent literary visitor. Many of my readers--if I can lure any from +the pages of younger writers will prove to be the children, or the +grandchildren, of those whose acquaintance I made something more than a +whole generation ago. I could depend on a kind welcome from my +contemporaries,--my coevals. But where are those contemporaries? Ay de +mi! as Carlyle used to exclaim,--Ah, dear me! as our old women say,--I +look round for them, and see only their vacant places. The old vine +cannot unwind its tendrils. The branch falls with the decay of its +support, and must cling to the new growths around it, if it would not lie +helpless in the dust. This paper is a new tendril, feeling its way, as +it best may, to whatever it can wind around. The thought of finding here +and there an old friend, and making, it may be, once in a while a new +one, is very grateful to me. The chief drawback to the pleasure is the +feeling that I am submitting to that inevitable exposure which is the +penalty of authorship in every form. A writer must make up his mind to +the possible rough treatment of the critics, who swarm like bacteria +whenever there is any literary material on which they can feed. I have +had as little to complain of as most writers, yet I think it is always +with reluctance that one encounters the promiscuous handling which the +products of the mind have to put up with, as much as the fruit and +provisions in the market-stalls. I had rather be criticised, however, +than criticise; that is, express my opinions in the public prints of +other writers' work, if they are living, and can suffer, as I should +often have to make them. There are enough, thank Heaven, without me. We +are literary cannibals, and our writers live on each other and each +other's productions to a fearful extent. What the mulberry leaf is to +the silk-worm, the author's book, treatise, essay, poem, is to the +critical larva; that feed upon it. It furnishes them with food and +clothing. The process may not be agreeable to the mulberry leaf or to +the printed page; but without it the leaf would not have become the silk +that covers the empress's shoulders, and but for the critic the author's +book might never have reached the scholar's table. Scribblers will feed +on each other, and if we insist on being scribblers we must consent to be +fed on. We must try to endure philosophically what we cannot help, and +ought not, I suppose, to wish to help. + +It is the custom at our table to vary the usual talk, by the reading of +short papers, in prose or verse, by one or more of The Teacups, as we are +in the habit of calling those who make up our company. Thirty years ago, +one of our present circle--"Teacup Number Two," The Professor,--read a +paper on Old Age, at a certain Breakfast-table, where he was in the habit +of appearing. That paper was published at the time, and has since seen +the light in other forms. He did not know so much about old age then as +he does now, and would doubtless write somewhat differently if he took +the subject up again. But I found that it was the general wish that +another of our company should let us hear what he had to say about it. I +received a polite note, requesting me to discourse about old age, +inasmuch as I was particularly well qualified by my experience to write +in an authoritative way concerning it. The fact is that I,--for it is +myself who am speaking,--have recently arrived at the age of threescore +years and twenty,--fourscore years we may otherwise call it. In the +arrangement of our table, I am Teacup Number One, and I may as well say +that I am often spoken of as The Dictator. There is nothing invidious in +this, as I am the oldest of the company, and no claim is less likely to +excite jealousy than that of priority of birth. + +I received congratulations on reaching my eightieth birthday, not only +from our circle of Teacups, but from friends, near and distant, in large +numbers. I tried to acknowledge these kindly missives with the aid of a +most intelligent secretary; but I fear that there were gifts not thanked +for, and tokens of good-will not recognized. Let any neglected +correspondent be assured that it was not intentionally that he or she was +slighted. I was grateful for every such mark of esteem; even for the +telegram from an unknown friend in a distant land, for which I cheerfully +paid the considerable charge which the sender doubtless knew it would +give me pleasure to disburse for such an expression of friendly feeling. + +I will not detain the reader any longer from the essay I have promised. + +This is the paper read to The Teacups. + +It is in A Song of Moses that we find the words, made very familiar to us +by the Episcopal Burial Service, which place the natural limit on life at +threescore years and ten, with an extra ten years for some of a stronger +constitution than the average. Yet we are told that Moses himself lived +to be a hundred and twenty years old, and that his eye was not dim nor +his natural strength abated. This is hard to accept literally, but we +need not doubt that he was very old, and in remarkably good condition for +a man of his age. Among his followers was a stout old captain, Caleb, +the son of Jephunneh. This ancient warrior speaks of himself in these +brave terms: "Lo, I am this day fourscore and five years old. As yet, I +am as strong this day as I was in the day that Moses sent me; as my +strength was then, even so is my strength now, for war, both to go out +and to come in." It is not likely that anybody believed his brag about +his being as good a man for active service at eighty-five as he was at +forty, when Moses sent him out to spy the land of Canaan. But he was, no +doubt, lusty and vigorous for his years, and ready to smite the +Canaanites hip and thigh, and drive them out, and take possession of +their land, as he did forthwith, when Moses gave him leave. + +Grand old men there were, three thousand years ago! But not all +octogenarians were like Caleb, the son of Jephunneh. Listen to poor old +Barzillai, and hear him piping: "I am this day fourscore years old; and +can I discern between good and evil? Can thy servant taste what I eat or +what I drink? Can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing +women? Wherefore, then, should thy servant be yet a burden unto my lord +the king?" And poor King David was worse off than this, as you all +remember, at the early age of seventy. + +Thirty centuries do not seem to have made any very great difference in +the extreme limits of life. Without pretending to rival the alleged +cases of life prolonged beyond the middle of its second century, such as +those of Henry Jenkins and Thomas Parr, we can make a good showing of +centenarians and nonagenarians. I myself remember Dr. Holyoke, of Salem, +son of a president of Harvard College, who answered a toast proposed in +his honor at a dinner given to him on his hundredth birthday. + +"Father Cleveland," our venerated city missionary, was born June 21, +1772, and died June 5, 1872, within a little more than a fortnight of his +hundredth birthday. Colonel Perkins, of Connecticut, died recently after +celebrating his centennial anniversary. + +Among nonagenarians, three whose names are well known to Bostonians, Lord +Lyndhurst, Josiah Quincy, and Sidney Bartlett, were remarkable for +retaining their faculties in their extreme age. That patriarch of our +American literature, the illustrious historian of his country, is still +with us, his birth dating in 1800. + +Ranke, the great German historian, died at the age of ninety-one, and +Chevreul, the eminent chemist, at that of a hundred and two. + +Some English sporting characters have furnished striking examples of +robust longevity. In Gilpin's "Forest Scenery" there is the story of one +of these horseback heroes. Henry Hastings was the name of this old +gentleman, who lived in the time of Charles the First. It would be hard +to find a better portrait of a hunting squire than that which the Earl of +Shaftesbury has the credit of having drawn of this very peculiar +personage. His description ends by saying, "He lived to be an hundred, +and never lost his eyesight nor used spectacles. He got on horseback +without help, and rode to the death of the stag till he was past +fourscore." + +Everything depends on habit. Old people can do, of course, more or less +well, what they have been doing all their lives; but try to teach them +any new tricks, and the truth of the old adage will very soon show +itself. Mr. Henry Hastings had done nothing but hunt all his days, and +his record would seem to have been a good deal like that of Philippus +Zaehdarm in that untranslatable epitaph which may be found in "Sartor +Resartus." Judged by its products, it was a very short life of a hundred +useless twelve months. + +It is something to have climbed the white summit, the Mont Blanc of +fourscore. A small number only of mankind ever see their eightieth +anniversary. I might go to the statistical tables of the annuity and +life insurance offices for extended and exact information, but I prefer +to take the facts which have impressed themselves upon me in my own +career. + +The class of 1829 at Harvard College, of which I am a member, graduated, +according to the triennial, fifty-nine in number. It is sixty years, +then, since that time; and as they were, on an average, about twenty +years old, those who survive must have reached fourscore years. Of the +fifty-nine graduates ten only are living, or were at the last accounts; +one in six, very nearly. In the first ten years after graduation, our +third decade, when we were between twenty and thirty years old, we lost +three members,--about one in twenty; between the ages of thirty and +forty, eight died,--one in seven of those the decade began with; from +forty to fifty, only two,--or one in twenty-four; from fifty to sixty, +eight,--or one in six; from sixty to seventy, fifteen,--or two out of +every five; from seventy to eighty, twelve,--or one in two. The greatly +increased mortality which began with our seventh decade went on steadily +increasing. At sixty we come "within range of the rifle-pits," to borrow +an expression from my friend Weir Mitchell. + +Our eminent classmate, the late Professor Benjamin Peirce, showed by +numerical comparison that the men of superior ability outlasted the +average of their fellow-graduates. He himself lived a little beyond his +threescore and ten years. James Freeman Clarke almost reached the age of +eighty. The eighth decade brought the fatal year for Benjamin Robbins +Curtis, the great lawyer, who was one of the judges of the Supreme Court +of the United States; for the very able chief justice of Massachusetts, +George Tyler Bigelow; and for that famous wit and electric centre of +social life, George T. Davis. At the last annual dinner every effort was +made to bring all the survivors of the class together. Six of the ten +living members were there, six old men in the place of the thirty or +forty classmates who surrounded the long, oval table in 1859, when I +asked, "Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys?"--11 boys whose +tongues were as the vibrating leaves of the forest; whose talk was like +the voice of many waters; whose laugh was as the breaking of mighty waves +upon the seashore. Among the six at our late dinner was our first +scholar, the thorough-bred and accomplished engineer who held the city of +Lawrence in his brain before it spread itself out along the banks of the +Merrimac. There, too, was the poet whose National Hymn, "My Country, 't +is of thee," is known to more millions, and dearer to many of them, than +all the other songs written since the Psalms of David. Four of our six +were clergymen; the engineer and the present writer completed the list. +Were we melancholy? Did we talk of graveyards and epitaphs? No,--we +remembered our dead tenderly, serenely, feeling deeply what we had lost +in those who but a little while ago were with us. How could we forget +James Freeman Clarke, that man of noble thought and vigorous action, who +pervaded this community with his spirit, and was felt through all its +channels as are the light and the strength that radiate through the wires +which stretch above us? It was a pride and a happiness to have such +classmates as he was to remember. We were not the moping, complaining +graybeards that many might suppose we must have been. We had been +favored with the blessing of long life. We had seen the drama well into +its fifth act. The sun still warmed us, the air was still grateful and +life-giving. But there was another underlying source of our cheerful +equanimity, which we could not conceal from ourselves if we had wished to +do it. Nature's kindly anodyne is telling upon us more and more with +every year. Our old doctors used to give an opiate which they called +"the black drop." It was stronger than laudanum, and, in fact, a +dangerously powerful narcotic. Something like this is that potent drug +in Nature's pharmacopoeia which she reserves for the time of need,--the +later stages of life. She commonly begins administering it at about the +time of the "grand climacteric," the ninth septennial period, the +sixty-third year. More and more freely she gives it, as the years go on, +to her grey-haired children, until, if they last long enough, every +faculty is benumbed, and they drop off quietly into sleep under its +benign influence. + +Do you say that old age is unfeeling? It has not vital energy enough to +supply the waste of the more exhausting emotions. Old Men's Tears, which +furnished the mournful title to Joshua Scottow's Lamentations, do not +suggest the deepest grief conceivable. A little breath of wind brings +down the raindrops which have gathered on the leaves of the tremulous +poplars. A very slight suggestion brings the tears from Marlborough's +eyes, but they are soon over, and he is smiling again as an allusion +carries him back to the days of Blenheim and Malplaquet. Envy not the +old man the tranquillity of his existence, nor yet blame him if it +sometimes looks like apathy. Time, the inexorable, does not threaten him +with the scythe so often as with the sand-bag. He does not cut, but he +stuns and stupefies. One's fellow-mortals can afford to be as considerate +and tender with him as Time and Nature. + +There was not much boasting among us of our present or our past, as we +sat together in the little room at the great hotel. A certain amount of +self-deception is quite possible at threescore years and ten, but at +three score years and twenty Nature has shown most of those who live to +that age that she is earnest, and means to dismantle and have done with +them in a very little while. As for boasting of our past, the laudator +temporis acti makes but a poor figure in our time. Old people used to +talk of their youth as if there were giants in those days. We knew some +tall men when we were young, but we can see a man taller than any one +among them at the nearest dime museum. We had handsome women among us, +of high local reputation, but nowadays we have professional beauties who +challenge the world to criticise them as boldly as Phryne ever challenged +her Athenian admirers. We had fast horses,--did not "Old Blue" trot a +mile in three minutes? True, but there is a three-year-old colt just put +on the track who has done it in a little more than two thirds of that +time. It seems as if the material world had been made over again since +we were boys. It is but a short time since we were counting up the +miracles we had lived to witness. The list is familiar enough: the +railroad, the ocean steamer, photography, the spectroscope, the +telegraph, telephone, phonograph, anesthetics, electric +illumination,--with such lesser wonders as the friction match, the sewing +machine, and the bicycle. And now, we said, we must have come to the end +of these unparalleled developments of the forces of nature. We must rest +on our achievements. The nineteenth century is not likely to add to +them; we must wait for the twentieth century. Many of us, perhaps most +of us, felt in that way. We had seen our planet furnished by the art of +man with a complete nervous system: a spinal cord beneath the ocean, +secondary centres,--ganglions,--in all the chief places where men are +gathered together, and ramifications extending throughout civilization. +All at once, by the side of this talking and light-giving apparatus, we +see another wire stretched over our heads, carrying force to a vast +metallic muscular system,--a slender cord conveying the strength of a +hundred men, of a score of horses, of a team of elephants. The lightning +is tamed and harnessed, the thunderbolt has become a common carrier. No +more surprises in this century! A voice whispers, What next? + +It will not do for us to boast about our young days and what they had to +show. It is a great deal better to boast of what they could not show, +and, strange as it may seem, there is a certain satisfaction in it. In +these days of electric lighting, when you have only to touch a button and +your parlor or bedroom is instantly flooded with light, it is a pleasure +to revert to the era of the tinder-box, the flint and steel, and the +brimstone match. It gives me an almost proud satisfaction to tell how we +used, when those implements were not at hand or not employed, to light +our whale-oil lamp by blowing a live coal held against the wick, often +swelling our cheeks and reddening our faces until we were on the verge of +apoplexy. I love to tell of our stage-coach experiences, of our +sailing-packet voyages, of the semi-barbarous destitution of all modern +comforts and conveniences through which we bravely lived and came out the +estimable personages you find us. + +Think of it! All my boyish shooting was done with a flint-lock gun; the +percussion lock came to me as one of those new-fangled notions people had +just got hold of. We ancients can make a grand display of minus +quantities in our reminiscences, and the figures look almost as well as +if they had the plus sign before them. + +I am afraid that old people found life rather a dull business in the time +of King David and his rich old subject and friend, Barzillai, who, poor +man, could not have read a wicked novel, nor enjoyed a symphony concert, +if they had had those luxuries in his day. There were no pleasant +firesides, for there were no chimneys. There were no daily newspapers +for the old man to read, and he could not read them if there were, with +his dimmed eyes, nor hear them read, very probably, with his dulled ears. +There was no tobacco, a soothing drug, which in its various forms is a +great solace to many old men and to some old women, Carlyle and his +mother used to smoke their pipes together, you remember. + +Old age is infinitely more cheerful, for intelligent people at least, +than it was two or three thousand years ago. It is our duty, so far as +we can, to keep it so. There will always be enough about it that is +solemn, and more than enough, alas! that is saddening. But how much +there is in our times to lighten its burdens! If they that look out at +the windows be darkened, the optician is happy to supply them with +eye-glasses for use before the public, and spectacles for their hours of +privacy. If the grinders cease because they are few, they can be made +many again by a third dentition, which brings no toothache in its train. +By temperance and good Habits of life, proper clothing, well-warmed, +well-drained, and well-ventilated dwellings, and sufficient, not too much +exercise, the old man of our time may keep his muscular strength in very +good condition. I doubt if Mr. Gladstone, who is fast nearing his +eightieth birthday, would boast, in the style of Caleb, that he was as +good a man with his axe as he was when he was forty, but I would back +him,--if the match were possible, for a hundred shekels, against that +over-confident old Israelite, to cut down and chop up a cedar of Lebanon. +I know a most excellent clergyman, not far from my own time of life, whom +I would pit against any old Hebrew rabbi or Greek philosopher of his +years and weight, if they could return to the flesh, to run a quarter of +a mile on a good, level track. + +We must not make too much of such exceptional cases of prolonged +activity. I often reproached my dear friend and classmate, Tames Freeman +Clarke, that his ceaseless labors made it impossible for his coevals to +enjoy the luxury of that repose which their years demanded. A wise old +man, the late Dr. James Walker, president of Harvard University, said +that the great privilege of old age was the getting rid of +responsibilities. These hard-working veterans will not let one get rid +of them until he drops in his harness, and so gets rid of them and his +life together. How often has many a tired old man envied the +superannuated family cat, stretched upon the rug before the fire, letting +the genial warmth tranquilly diffuse itself through all her internal +arrangements! No more watching for mice in dark, damp cellars, no more +awaiting the savage gray rat at the mouth of his den, no more scurrying +up trees and lamp-posts to avoid the neighbor's cur who wishes to make +her acquaintance! It is very grand to "die in harness," but it is very +pleasant to have the tight straps unbuckled and the heavy collar lifted +from the neck and shoulders. + +It is natural enough to cling to life. We are used to atmospheric +existence, and can hardly conceive of ourselves except as breathing +creatures. We have never tried any other mode of being, or, if we have, +we have forgotten all about it, whatever Wordsworth's grand ode may tell +us we remember. Heaven itself must be an experiment to every human soul +which shall find itself there. It may take time for an earthborn saint +to become acclimated to the celestial ether,--that is, if time can be +said to exist for a disembodied spirit. We are all sentenced to capital +punishment for the crime of living, and though the condemned cell of our +earthly existence is but a narrow and bare dwelling-place, we have +adjusted ourselves to it, and made it tolerably comfortable for the +little while we are to be confined in it. The prisoner of Chillon + + "regained [his] freedom with a sigh," + +and a tender-hearted mortal might be pardoned for looking back, like the +poor lady who was driven from her dwelling-place by fire and brimstone, +at the home he was leaving for the "undiscovered country." + +On the other hand, a good many persons, not suicidal in their tendencies, +get more of life than they want. One of our wealthy citizens said, on +hearing that a friend had dropped off from apoplexy, that it made his +mouth water to hear of such a case. It was an odd expression, but I have +no doubt that the fine old gentleman to whom it was attributed made use +of it. He had had enough of his gout and other infirmities. Swift's +account of the Struldbrugs is not very amusing reading for old people, +but some may find it a consolation to reflect on the probable miseries +they escape in not being doomed to an undying earthly existence. + +There are strange diversities in the way in which different old persons +look upon their prospects. A millionaire whom I well remember confessed +that he should like to live long enough to learn how much a certain +fellow-citizen, a multimillionaire, was worth. One of the, three +nonagenarians before referred to expressed himself as having a great +curiosity about the new sphere of existence to which he was looking +forward. + +The feeling must of necessity come to many aged persons that they have +outlived their usefulness; that they are no longer wanted, but rather in +the way, drags on the wheels rather than helping them forward. But let +them remember the often-quoted line of Milton, + + "They also serve who only stand and wait." + +This is peculiarly true of them. They are helping others without always +being aware of it. They are the shields, the breakwaters, of those who +come after them. Every decade is a defence of the one next behind it. +At thirty the youth has sobered into manhood, but the strong men of forty +rise in almost unbroken rank between him and the approaches of old age as +they show in the men of fifty. At forty he looks with a sense of +security at the strong men of fifty, and sees behind them the row of +sturdy sexagenarians. When fifty is reached, somehow sixty does not look +so old as it once used to, and seventy is still afar off. After sixty +the stern sentence of the burial service seems to have a meaning that one +did not notice in former years. There begins to be something personal +about it. But if one lives to seventy he soon gets used to the text with +the threescore years and ten in it, and begins to count himself among +those who by reason of strength are destined to reach fourscore, of whom +he can see a number still in reasonably good condition. The octogenarian +loves to read about people of ninety and over. He peers among the +asterisks of the triennial catalogue of the University for the names of +graduates who have been seventy years out of college and remain still +unstarred. He is curious about the biographies of centenarians. Such +escapades as those of that terrible old sinner and ancestor of great men, +the Reverend Stephen Bachelder, interest him as they never did before. +But he cannot deceive himself much longer. See him walking on a level +surface, and he steps off almost as well as ever; but watch him coming +down a flight of stairs, and the family record could not tell his years +more faithfully. He cut you dead, you say? Did it occur to you that he +could not see you clearly enough to know you from any other son or +daughter of Adam? He said he was very glad to hear it, did he, when you +told him that your beloved grandmother had just deceased? Did you happen +to remember that though he does not allow that he is deaf, he will not +deny that he does not hear quite so well as he used to? No matter about +his failings; the longer he holds on to life, the longer he makes life +seem to all the living who follow him, and thus he is their constant +benefactor. + +Every stage of existence has its special trials and its special +consolations. Habits are the crutches of old age; by the aid of these we +manage to hobble along after the mental joints are stiff and the muscles +rheumatic, to speak metaphorically,--that is to say, when every act of +self-determination costs an effort and a pang. We become more and more +automatic as we grow older, and if we lived long enough we should come to +be pieces of creaking machinery like Maelzel's chess player,--or what +that seemed to be. + +Emerson was sixty-three years old, the year I have referred to as that of +the grand climacteric, when he read to his son the poem he called +"Terminus," beginning: + + "It is time to be old, + To take in sail. + The God of bounds, + Who sets to seas a shore, + Came to me in his fatal rounds + And said, 'No more!'" + +It was early in life to feel that the productive stage was over, but he +had received warning from within, and did not wish to wait for outside +advices. There is all the difference in the world in the mental as in +the bodily constitution of different individuals. Some must "take in +sail" sooner, some later. We can get a useful lesson from the American +and the English elms on our Common. The American elms are quite bare, +and have been so for weeks. They know very well that they are going to +have storms to wrestle with; they have not forgotten the gales of +September and the tempests of the late autumn and early winter. It is a +hard fight they are going to have, and they strip their coats off and +roll up their shirt-sleeves, and show themselves bare-armed and ready for +the contest. The English elms are of a more robust build, and stand +defiant, with all their summer clothing about their sturdy frames. They +may yet have to learn a lesson of their American cousins, for +notwithstanding their compact and solid structure they go to pieces in +the great winds just as ours do. We must drop much of our foliage before +winter is upon us. We must take in sail and throw over cargo, if that is +necessary, to keep us afloat. We have to decide between our duties and +our instinctive demand of rest. I can believe that some have welcomed +the decay of their active powers because it furnished them with +peremptory reasons for sparing themselves during the few years that were +left them. + +Age brings other obvious changes besides the loss of active power. The +sensibilities are less keen, the intelligence is less lively, as we might +expect under the influence of that narcotic which Nature administers. +But there is another effect of her "black drop" which is not so commonly +recognized. Old age is like an opium-dream. Nothing seems real except +what is unreal. I am sure that the pictures painted by the +imagination,--the faded frescos on the walls of memory,--come out in +clearer and brighter colors than belonged to them many years earlier. +Nature has her special favors for her children of every age, and this is +one which she reserves for our second childhood. + +No man can reach an advanced age without thinking of that great change to +which, in the course of nature, he must be so near. It has been remarked +that the sterner beliefs of rigid theologians are apt to soften in their +later years. All reflecting persons, even those whose minds have been +half palsied by the deadly dogmas which have done all they could to +disorganize their thinking powers,--all reflecting persons, I say, must +recognize, in looking back over a long life, how largely their creeds, +their course of life, their wisdom and unwisdom, their whole characters, +were shaped by the conditions which surrounded them. Little children +they came from the hands of the Father of all; little children in their +helplessness, their ignorance, they are going back to Him. They cannot +help feeling that they are to be transferred from the rude embrace of the +boisterous elements to arms that will receive them tenderly. Poor +planetary foundlings, they have known hard treatment at the hands of the +brute forces of nature, from the control of which they are soon to be set +free. There are some old pessimists, it is true, who believe that they +and a few others are on a raft, and that the ship which they have +quitted, holding the rest of mankind, is going down with all on board. +It is no wonder that there should be such when we remember what have been +the teachings of the priesthood through long series of ignorant +centuries. Every age has to shape the Divine image it worships over +again,--the present age and our own country are busily engaged in the +task at this time. We unmake Presidents and make new ones. This is an +apprenticeship for a higher task. Our doctrinal teachers are unmaking +the Deity of the Westminster Catechism and trying to model a new one, +with more of modern humanity and less of ancient barbarism in his +composition. If Jonathan Edwards had lived long enough, I have no doubt +his creed would have softened into a kindly, humanized belief. + +Some twenty or thirty years ago, I said to Longfellow that certain +statistical tables I had seen went to show that poets were not a +long-lived race. He doubted whether there was anything to prove they +were particularly short-lived. Soon after this, he handed me a list he +had drawn up. I cannot lay my hand upon it at this moment, but I +remember that Metastasio was the oldest of them all. He died at the age +of eighty-four. I have had some tables made out, which I have every +reason to believe are correct so far as they go. From these, it appears +that twenty English poets lived to the average age of fifty-six years and +a little over. The eight American poets on the list averaged +seventy-three and a half, nearly, and they are not all dead yet. The +list including Greek, Latin, Italian, and German poets, with American and +English, gave an average of a little over sixty-two years. Our young +poets need not be alarmed. They can remember that Bryant lived to be +eighty-three years old, that Longfellow reached seventy-five and Halleck +seventy-seven, while Whittier is living at the age of nearly eighty-two. +Tennyson is still writing at eighty, and Browning reached the age of +seventy-seven. + +Shall a man who in his younger days has written poetry, or what passed +for it, continue to attempt it in his later years? Certainly, if it +amuses or interests him, no one would object to his writing in verse as +much as he likes. Whether he should continue to write for the public is +another question. Poetry is a good deal a matter of heart-beats, and the +circulation is more languid in the later period of life. The joints are +less supple; the arteries are more or less "ossified." Something like +these changes has taken place in the mind. It has lost the flexibility, +the plastic docility, which it had in youth and early manhood, when the +gristle had but just become hardened into bone. It is the nature of +poetry to writhe itself along through the tangled growths of the +vocabulary, as a snake winds through the grass, in sinuous, complex, and +unexpected curves, which crack every joint that is not supple as +india-rubber. + +I had a poem that I wanted to print just here. But after what I have +this moment said, I hesitated, thinking that I might provoke the obvious +remark that I exemplified the unfitness of which I had been speaking. I +remembered the advice I had given to a poetical aspirant not long since, +which I think deserves a paragraph to itself. + +My friend, I said, I hope you will not write in verse. When you write in +prose you say what you mean. When you write in rhyme you say what you +must. + +Should I send this poem to the publishers, or not? + + "Some said, 'John, print it;' others said, 'Not so.'" + +I did not ask "some" or "others." Perhaps I should have thought it best +to keep my poem to myself and the few friends for whom it was written. +All at once, my daimon--that other Me over whom I button my waistcoat +when I button it over my own person--put it into my head to look up the +story of Madame Saqui. She was a famous danseuse, who danced Napoleon in +and out, and several other dynasties besides. Her last appearance was at +the age of seventy-six, which is rather late in life for the tight rope, +one of her specialties. Jules Janin mummified her when she died in 1866, +at the age of eighty. He spiced her up in his eulogy as if she had been +the queen of a modern Pharaoh. His foamy and flowery rhetoric put me +into such a state of good-nature that I said, I will print my poem, and +let the critical Gil Blas handle it as he did the archbishop's sermon, or +would have done, if he had been a writer for the "Salamanca Weekly." + +It must be premised that a very beautiful loving cup was presented to me +on my recent birthday, by eleven ladies of my acquaintance. This was the +most costly and notable of all the many tributes I received, and for +which in different forms I expressed my gratitude. + + TO THE ELEVEN LADIES + + WHO PRESENTED ME WITH A SILVER LOVING CUP ON THE + TWENTY-NINTH OF AUGUST, M DCCC LXXXIX. + + "Who gave this cup?" The secret thou wouldst steal + Its brimming flood forbids it to reveal: + No mortal's eye shall read it till he first + Cool the red throat of thirst. + + If on the golden floor one draught remain, + Trust me, thy careful search will be in vain; + Not till the bowl is emptied shalt thou know + The names enrolled below. + + Deeper than Truth lies buried in her well + Those modest names the graven letters spell + Hide from the sight; but, wait, and thou shalt see + Who the good angels be + + Whose bounty glistens in the beauteous gift + That friendly hands to loving lips shall lift: + Turn the fair goblet when its floor is dry, + Their names shall meet thine eye. + + Count thou their number on the beads of Heaven, + Alas! the clustered Pleiads are but seven; + Nay, the nine sister Muses are too few, + --The Graces must add two. + + "For whom this gift?" For one who all too long + Clings to his bough among the groves of song; + Autumn's last leaf, that spreads its faded wing + To greet a second spring. + + Dear friends, kind friends, whate'er the cup may hold, + Bathing its burnished depths, will change to gold + Its last bright drop let thirsty Maenads drain, + Its fragrance will remain. + + Better love's perfume in the empty bowl + Than wine's nepenthe for the aching soul + Sweeter than song that ever poet sung, + It makes an old heart young! + + + +III + +After the reading of the paper which was reported in the preceding number +of this record, the company fell into talk upon the subject with which it +dealt. + +The Mistress. "I could have wished you had said more about the religious +attitude of old age as such. Surely the thoughts of aged persons must be +very much taken up with the question of what is to become of them. I +should like to have The Dictator explain himself a little more fully on +this point." + +My dear madam, I said, it is a delicate matter to talk about. You +remember Mr. Calhoun's response to the advances of an over-zealous +young clergyman who wished to examine him as to his outfit for the +long journey. I think the relations between man and his Maker grow +more intimate, more confidential, if I may say so, with advancing +years. The old man is less disposed to argue about special matters +of belief, and more ready to sympathize with spiritually minded +persons without anxious questioning as to the fold to which they +belong. That kindly judgment which he exercises with regard to +others he will, naturally enough, apply to himself. The caressing +tone in which the Emperor Hadrian addresses his soul is very much +like that of an old person talking with a grandchild or some other +pet: + + "Animula, vagula, blandula, + Hospes comesque corporis." + + "Dear little, flitting, pleasing sprite, + The body's comrade and its guest." + +How like the language of Catullus to Lesbia's sparrow! + +More and more the old man finds his pleasures in memory, as the present +becomes unreal and dreamlike, and the vista of his earthly future narrows +and closes in upon him. At last, if he live long enough, life comes to +be little more than a gentle and peaceful delirium of pleasing +recollections. To say, as Dante says, that there is no greater grief +than to remember past happiness in the hour of misery is not giving the +whole truth. In the midst of the misery, as many would call it, of +extreme old age, there is often a divine consolation in recalling the +happy moments and days and years of times long past. So beautiful are +the visions of bygone delight that one could hardly wish them to become +real, lest they should lose their ineffable charm. I can almost conceive +of a dozing and dreamy centenarian saying to one he loves, "Go, darling, +go! Spread your wings and leave me. So shall you enter that world of +memory where all is lovely. I shall not hear the sound of your footsteps +any more, but you will float before me, an aerial presence. I shall not +hear any word from your lips, but I shall have a deeper sense of your +nearness to me than speech can give. I shall feel, in my still solitude, +as the Ancient Mariner felt when the seraph band gathered before him: + + "'No voice did they impart + No voice; but oh! the silence sank + Like music on my heart.'" + +I said that the lenient way in which the old look at the failings of +others naturally leads them to judge themselves more charitably. They +find an apology for their short-comings and wrong-doings in another +consideration. They know very well that they are not the same persons as +the middle-aged individuals, the young men, the boys, the children, that +bore their names, and whose lives were continuous with theirs. Here is +an old man who can remember the first time he was allowed to go shooting. +What a remorseless young destroyer he was, to be sure! Wherever he saw a +feather, wherever a poor little squirrel showed his bushy tail, bang! +went the old "king's arm," and the feathers or the fur were set flying +like so much chaff. Now that same old man,--the mortal that was called +by his name and has passed for the same person for some scores of +years,--is considered absurdly sentimental by kind-hearted women, because +he opens the fly-trap and sets all its captives free,--out-of-doors, of +course, but the dear souls all insisting, meanwhile, that the flies will, +every one of them, be back again in the house before the day is over. Do +you suppose that venerable sinner expects to be rigorously called to +account for the want of feeling he showed in those early years, when the +instinct of destruction, derived from his forest-roaming ancestors, led +him to acts which he now looks upon with pain and aversion? + +"Senex" has seen three generations grow up, the son repeating the virtues +and the failings of the father, the grandson showing the same +characteristics as the father and grandfather. He knows that if such or +such a young fellow had lived to the next stage of life he would very +probably have caught up with his mother's virtues, which, like a graft of +a late fruit on an early apple or pear tree, do not ripen in her children +until late in the season. He has seen the successive ripening of one +quality after another on the boughs of his own life, and he finds it hard +to condemn himself for faults which only needed time to fall off and be +succeeded by better fruitage. I cannot help thinking that the recording +angel not only drops a tear upon many a human failing, which blots it out +forever, but that he hands many an old record-book to the imp that does +his bidding, and orders him to throw that into the fire instead of the +sinner for whom the little wretch had kindled it. + +"And pitched him in after it, I hope," said Number Seven, who is in some +points as much of an optimist as any one among us, in spite of the squint +in his brain,--or in virtue of it, if you choose to have it so. + +"I like Wordsworth's 'Matthew,'" said Number Five, "as well as any +picture of old age I remember." + +"Can you repeat it to us?" asked one of The Teacups. + +"I can recall two verses of it," said Number Five, and she recited the +two following ones. Number Five has a very sweet voice. The moment she +speaks all the faces turn toward her. I don't know what its secret is, +but it is a voice that makes friends of everybody. + + "'The sighs which Matthew heaved were sighs + Of one tired out with fun and madness; + The tears which came to Matthew's eyes + Were tears of light, the dew of gladness. + + "'Yet, sometimes, when the secret cup + Of still and serious thought went round, + It seemed as if he drank it up, + He felt with spirit so profound:' + +"This was the way in which Wordsworth paid his tribute to a + + "'Soul of God's best earthly mould.'" + +The sweet voice left a trance-like silence after it, which may have +lasted twenty heart-beats. Then I said, We all thank you for your +charming quotation. How much more wholesome a picture of humanity than +such stuff as the author of the "Night Thoughts" has left us: + + "Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings but Himself + That hideous sight, a naked human heart." + +Or the author of "Don Juan," telling us to look into + + "Man's heart, and view the hell that's there!" + +I hope I am quoting correctly, but I am more of a scholar in Wordsworth +than in Byron. Was Parson Young's own heart such a hideous spectacle to +himself? + +If it was, he had better have stripped off his surplice. No,--it was +nothing but the cant of his calling. In Byron it was a mood, and he +might have said just the opposite thing the next day, as he did in his +two descriptions of the Venus de' Medici. That picture of old Matthew +abides in the memory, and makes one think better of his kind. What nobler +tasks has the poet than to exalt the idea of manhood, and to make the +world we live in more beautiful? + +We have two or three young people with us who stand a fair chance of +furnishing us the element without which life and tea-tables alike are +wanting in interest. We are all, of course, watching them, and curious +to know whether we are to have a romance or not. Here is one of them; +others will show themselves presently. + +I cannot say just how old the Tutor is, but I do not detect a gray hair +in his head. My sight is not so good as it was, however, and he may have +turned the sharp corner of thirty, and even have left it a year or two +behind him. More probably he is still in the twenties,--say twenty-eight +or twenty-nine. He seems young, at any rate, excitable, enthusiastic, +imaginative, but at the same time reserved. I am afraid that he is a +poet. When I say "I am afraid," you wonder what I mean by the +expression. I may take another opportunity to explain and justify it; I +will only say now that I consider the Muse the most dangerous of sirens +to a young man who has his way to make in the world. Now this young man, +the Tutor, has, I believe, a future before him. He was born for a +philosopher,--so I read his horoscope,--but he has a great liking for +poetry and can write well in verse. We have had a number of poems +offered for our entertainment, which I have commonly been requested to +read. There has been some little mystery about their authorship, but it +is evident that they are not all from the same hand. Poetry is as +contagious as measles, and if a single case of it break out in any social +circle, or in a school, there are certain to be a number of similar +cases, some slight, some serious, and now and then one so malignant that +the subject of it should be put on a spare diet of stationery, say from +two to three penfuls of ink and a half sheet of notepaper per diem. If +any of our poetical contributions are presentable, the reader shall have +a chance to see them. + +It must be understood that our company is not invariably made up of the +same persons. The Mistress, as we call her, is expected to be always in +her place. I make it a rule to be present. The Professor is almost as +sure to be at the table as I am. We should hardly know what to do +without Number Five. It takes a good deal of tact to handle such a +little assembly as ours, which is a republic on a small scale, for all +that they give me the title of Dictator, and Number Five is a great help +in every social emergency. She sees when a discussion tends to become +personal, and heads off the threatening antagonists. She knows when a +subject has been knocking about long enough and dexterously shifts the +talk to another track. It is true that I am the one most frequently +appealed to as the highest tribunal in doubtful cases, but I often care +more for Number Five's opinion than I do for my own. Who is this Number +Five, so fascinating, so wise, so full of knowledge, and so ready to +learn? She is suspected of being the anonymous author of a book which +produced a sensation when published, not very long ago, and which those +who read are very apt to read a second time, and to leave on their tables +for frequent reference. But we have never asked her. I do not think she +wants to be famous. How she comes to be unmarried is a mystery to me; it +must be that she has found nobody worth caring enough for. I wish she +would furnish us with the romance which, as I said, our tea-table needs +to make it interesting. Perhaps the new-comer will make love to her,--I +should think it possible she might fancy him. + +And who is the new-comer? He is a Counsellor and a Politician. Has a +good war record. Is about forty-five years old, I conjecture. Is +engaged in a great law case just now. Said to be very eloquent. Has an +intellectual head, and the bearing of one who has commanded a regiment or +perhaps a brigade. Altogether an attractive person, scholarly, refined +has some accomplishments not so common as they might be in the class we +call gentlemen, with an accent on the word. + +There is also a young Doctor, waiting for his bald spot to come, so that +he may get into practice. + +We have two young ladies at the table,--the English girl referred to in a +former number, and an American girl of about her own age. Both of them +are students in one of those institutions--I am not sure whether they +call it an "annex" or not; but at any rate one of those schools where +they teach the incomprehensible sort of mathematics and other bewildering +branches of knowledge above the common level of high-school education. +They seem to be good friends, and form a very pleasing pair when they +walk in arm in arm; nearly enough alike to seem to belong together, +different enough to form an agreeable contrast. + +Of course we were bound to have a Musician at our table, and we have one +who sings admirably, and accompanies himself, or one or more of our +ladies, very frequently. + +Such is our company when the table is full. But sometimes only half a +dozen, or it may be only three or four, are present. At other times we +have a visitor or two, either in the place of one of our habitual number, +or in addition to it. We have the elements, we think, of a pleasant +social gathering,--different sexes, ages, pursuits, and tastes,--all that +is required for a "symphony concert" of conversation. One of the curious +questions which might well be asked by those who had been with us on +different occasions would be, "How many poets are there among you?" +Nobody can answer this question. It is a point of etiquette with us not +to press our inquiries about these anonymous poems too sharply, +especially if any of them betray sentiments which would not bear rough +handling. + +I don't doubt that the different personalities at our table will get +mixed up in the reader's mind if he is not particularly clear-headed. +That happens very often, much oftener than all would be willing to +confess, in reading novels and plays. I am afraid we should get a good +deal confused even in reading our Shakespeare if we did not look back now +and then at the dramatis personae. I am sure that I am very apt to +confound the characters in a moderately interesting novel; indeed, I +suspect that the writer is often no better off than the reader in the +dreary middle of the story, when his characters have all made their +appearance, and before they have reached near enough to the denoument to +have fixed their individuality by the position they have arrived at in +the chain of the narrative. + +My reader might be a little puzzled when he read that Number Five did or +said such or such a thing, and ask, "Whom do you mean by that title? I +am not quite sure that I remember." Just associate her with that line of +Emerson, + + "Why nature loves the number five," + +and that will remind you that she is the favorite of our table. + +You cannot forget who Number Seven is if I inform you that he specially +prides himself on being a seventh son of a seventh son. The fact of such +a descent is supposed to carry wonderful endowments with it. Number +Seven passes for a natural healer. He is looked upon as a kind of +wizard, and is lucky in living in the nineteenth century instead of the +sixteenth or earlier. How much confidence he feels in himself as the +possessor of half-supernatural gifts I cannot say. I think his peculiar +birthright gives him a certain confidence in his whims and fancies which +but for that he would hardly feel. After this explanation, when I speak +of Number Five or Number Seven, you will know to whom I refer. + +The company are very frank in their criticisms of each other. "I did not +like that expression of yours, planetary foundlings," said the Mistress. +"It seems to me that it is too like atheism for a good Christian like you +to use." + +Ah, my dear madam, I answered, I was thinking of the elements and the +natural forces to which man was born an almost helpless subject in the +rudimentary stages of his existence, and from which he has only partially +got free after ages upon ages of warfare with their tyranny. Think what +hunger forced the caveman to do! Think of the surly indifference of the +storms that swept the forest and the waters, the earthquake chasms that +engulfed him, the inundations that drowned him out of his miserable +hiding-places, the pestilences that lay in wait for him, the unequal +strife with ferocious animals! I need not sum up all the wretchedness +that goes to constitute the "martyrdom of man." When our forefathers +came to this wilderness as it then was, and found everywhere the bones of +the poor natives who had perished in the great plague (which our Doctor +there thinks was probably the small-pox), they considered this +destructive malady as a special mark of providential favor for them. How +about the miserable Indians? Were they anything but planetary +foundlings? No! Civilization is a great foundling hospital, and +fortunate are all those who get safely into the creche before the frost +or the malaria has killed them, the wild beasts or the venomous reptiles +worked out their deadly appetites and instincts upon them. The very idea +of humanity seems to be that it shall take care of itself and develop its +powers in the "struggle for life." Whether we approve it or not, if we +can judge by the material record, man was born a foundling, and fought +his way as he best might to that kind of existence which we call +civilized,--one which a considerable part of the inhabitants of our +planet have reached. + +If you do not like the expression planetary foundlings, I have no +objection to your considering the race as put out to nurse. And what a +nurse Nature is! She gives her charge a hole in the rocks to live in, +ice for his pillow and snow for his blanket, in one part of the world; +the jungle for his bedroom in another, with the tiger for his watch-dog, +and the cobra as his playfellow. + +Well, I said, there may be other parts of the universe where there are no +tigers and no cobras. It is not quite certain that such realms of +creation are better off, on the whole, than this earthly residence of +ours, which has fought its way up to the development of such centres of +civilization as Athens and Rome, to such personalities as Socrates, as +Washington. + +"One of our company has been on an excursion among the celestial bodies +of our system, I understand," said the Professor. + +Number Five colored. "Nothing but a dream," she said. "The truth is, I +had taken ether in the evening for a touch of neuralgia, and it set my +imagination at work in a way quite unusual with me. I had been reading a +number of books about an ideal condition of society,--Sir Thomas Mores +'Utopia,' Lord Bacon's 'New Atlantis,' and another of more recent date. +I went to bed with my brain a good deal excited, and fell into a deep +slumber, in which I passed through some experiences so singular that, on +awaking, I put them down on paper. I don't know that there is anything +very original about the experiences I have recorded, but I thought them +worth preserving. Perhaps you would not agree with me in that belief." + +"If Number Five will give us a chance to form our own judgment about her +dream or vision, I think we shall enjoy it," said the Mistress. "She +knows what will please The Teacups in the way of reading as well as I do +how many lumps of sugar the Professor wants in his tea and how many I +want in mine." + +The company was so urgent that Number Five sent up-stairs for her paper. + +Number Five reads the story of her dream. + +It cost me a great effort to set down the words of the manuscript from +which I am reading. My dreams for the most part fade away so soon after +their occurrence that I cannot recall them at all. But in this case my +ideas held together with remarkable tenacity. By keeping my mind +steadily upon the work, I gradually unfolded the narrative which follows, +as the famous Italian antiquary opened one of those fragile carbonized +manuscripts found in the ruins of Herculaneum or Pompeii. + +The first thing I remember about it is that I was floating upward, +without any sense of effort on my part. The feeling was that of flying, +which I have often had in dreams, as have many other persons. It was the +most natural thing in the world,--a semi-materialized volition, if I may +use such an expression. + +At the first moment of my new consciousness,--for I seemed to have just +emerged from a deep slumber, I was aware that there was a companion at my +side. Nothing could be more gracious than the way in which this being +accosted me. I will speak of it as she, because there was a delicacy, a +sweetness, a divine purity, about its aspect that recalled my ideal of +the loveliest womanhood. + +"I am your companion and your guide," this being made me understand, as +she looked at me. Some faculty of which I had never before been +conscious had awakened in me, and I needed no interpreter to explain the +unspoken language of my celestial attendant. + +"You are not yet outside of space and time," she said, "and I am going +with you through some parts of the phenomenal or apparent universe,--what +you call the material world. We have plenty of what you call time before +us, and we will take our voyage leisurely, looking at such objects of +interest as may attract our attention as we pass. The first thing you +will naturally wish to look at will be the earth you have just left. +This is about the right distance," she said, and we paused in our flight. + +The great globe we had left was rolling beneath us. No eye of one in the +flesh could see it as I saw or seemed to see it. No ear of any mortal +being could bear the sounds that came from it as I heard or seemed to +hear them. The broad oceans unrolled themselves before me. I could +recognize the calm Pacific and the stormy Atlantic,--the ships that +dotted them, the white lines where the waves broke on the shore,--frills +on the robes of the continents,--so they looked to my woman's perception; +the--vast South American forests; the glittering icebergs about the +poles; the snowy mountain ranges, here and there a summit sending up fire +and smoke; mighty rivers, dividing provinces within sight of each other, +and making neighbors of realms thousands of miles apart; cities; +light-houses to insure the safety of sea-going vessels, and war-ships to +knock them to pieces and sink them. All this, and infinitely more, +showed itself to me during a single revolution of the sphere: twenty-four +hours it would have been, if reckoned by earthly measurements of time. I +have not spoken of the sounds I heard while the earth was revolving under +us. The howl of storms, the roar and clash of waves, the crack and crash +of the falling thunderbolt,--these of course made themselves heard as +they do to mortal ears. But there were other sounds which enchained my +attention more than these voices of nature. As the skilled leader of an +orchestra hears every single sound from each member of the mob of +stringed and wind instruments, and above all the screech of the straining +soprano, so my sharpened perceptions made what would have been for common +mortals a confused murmur audible to me as compounded of innumerable +easily distinguished sounds. Above them all arose one continued, +unbroken, agonizing cry. It was the voice of suffering womanhood, a +sound that goes up day and night, one long chorus of tortured victims. + +"Let us get out of reach of this," I said; and we left our planet, with +its blank, desolate moon staring at it, as if it had turned pale at the +sights and sounds it had to witness. + +Presently the gilded dome of the State House, which marked our +starting-point, came into view for the second time, and I knew that this +side-show was over. I bade farewell to the Common with its Cogswell +fountain, and the Garden with its last awe-inspiring monument. + +"Oh, if I could sometimes revisit these beloved scenes!" I exclaimed. + +"There is nothing to hinder that I know of," said my companion. "Memory +and imagination as you know them in the flesh are two winged creatures +with strings tied to their legs, and anchored to a bodily weight of a +hundred and fifty pounds, more or less. When the string is cut you can +be where you wish to be,--not merely a part of you, leaving the rest +behind, but the whole of you. Why shouldn't you want to revisit your old +home sometimes?" + +I was astonished at the human way in which my guide conversed with me. +It was always on the basis of my earthly habits, experiences, and +limitations. "Your solar system," she said, "is a very small part of the +universe, but you naturally feel a curiosity about the bodies which +constitute it and about their inhabitants. There is your moon: a bare +and desolate-looking place it is, and well it may be, for it has no +respirable atmosphere, and no occasion for one. The Lunites do not +breathe; they live without waste and without supply. You look as if you +do not understand this. Yet your people have, as you well know, what +they call incandescent lights everywhere. You would have said there can +be no lamp without oil or gas, or other combustible substance, to feed +it; and yet you see a filament which sheds a light like that of noon all +around it, and does not waste at all. So the Lunites live by influx of +divine energy, just as the incandescent lamp glows,--glows, and is not +consumed; receiving its life, if we may call it so, from the central +power, which wears the unpleasant name of 'dynamo.'" + +The Lunites appeared to me as pale phosphorescent figures of ill-defined +outline, lost in their own halos, as it were. I could not help thinking +of Shelley's + + "maiden + With white fire laden." + +But as the Lunites were after all but provincials, as are the tenants of +all the satellites, I did not care to contemplate them for any great +length of time. + +I do not remember much about the two planets that came next to our own, +except the beautiful rosy atmosphere of one and the huge bulk of the +other. Presently, we found ourselves within hailing distance of another +celestial body, which I recognized at once, by the rings which girdled +it, as the planet Saturn. A dingy, dull-looking sphere it was in its +appearance. "We will tie up here for a while," said my attendant. The +easy, familiar way in which she spoke surprised and pleased me. + +Why, said I,--The Dictator,--what is there to prevent beings of another +order from being as cheerful, as social, as good companions, as the very +liveliest of God's creatures whom we have known in the flesh? Is it +impossible for an archangel to smile? Is such a phenomenon as a laugh +never heard except in our little sinful corner of the universe? Do you +suppose, that when the disciples heard from the lips of their Master the +play of words on the name of Peter, there was no smile of appreciation on +the bearded faces of those holy men? From any other lips we should have +called this pleasantry a-- + +Number Five shook her head very slightly, and gave me a look that seemed +to say, "Don't frighten the other Teacups. We don't call things by the +names that belong to them when we deal with celestial subjects." + +We tied up, as my attendant playfully called our resting, so near the +planet that I could know--I will not say see and hear, but apprehend--all +that was going on in that remote sphere; remote, as we who live in what +we have been used to consider the centre of the rational universe regard +it. What struck me at once was the deadness of everything I looked upon. +Dead, uniform color of surface and surrounding atmosphere. Dead +complexion of all the inhabitants. Dead-looking trees, dead-looking +grass, no flowers to be seen anywhere. + +"What is the meaning of all this?" I said to my guide. + +She smiled good-naturedly, and replied, "It is a forlorn home for +anything above a lichen or a toadstool; but that is no wonder, when you +know what the air is which they breathe. It is pure nitrogen." + +The Professor spoke up. "That can't be, madam," he said. "The +spectroscope shows the atmosphere of Saturn to be--no matter, I have +forgotten what; but it was not pure nitrogen, at any rate." + +Number Five is never disconcerted. "Will you tell me," she said, "where +you have found any account of the bands and lines in the spectrum of +dream-nitrogen? I should be so pleased to become acquainted with them." + +The Professor winced a little, and asked Delilah, the handmaiden, to pass +a plate of muffins to him. The dream had carried him away, and he +thought for the moment that he was listening to a scientific paper. + +Of course, my companion went on to say, the bodily constitution of the +Saturnians is wholly different from that of air-breathing, that is +oxygen-breathing, human beings. They are the dullest, slowest, most +torpid of mortal creatures. + +All this is not to be wondered at when you remember the inert +characteristics of nitrogen. There are in some localities natural +springs which give out slender streams of oxygen. You will learn by and +by what use the Saturnians make of this dangerous gas, which, as you +recollect, constitutes about one fifth of your own atmosphere. Saturn has +large lead mines, but no other metal is found on this planet. The +inhabitants have nothing else to make tools of, except stones and shells. +The mechanical arts have therefore made no great progress among them. +Chopping down a tree with a leaden axe is necessarily a slow process. + +So far as the Saturnians can be said to have any pride in anything, it is +in the absolute level which characterizes their political and social +order. They profess to be the only true republicans in the solar system. +The fundamental articles of their Constitution are these: + +All Saturnians are born equal, live equal, and die equal. + +All Saturnians are born free,--free, that is, to obey the rules laid down +for the regulation of their conduct, pursuits, and opinions, free to be +married to the person selected for them by the physiological section of +the government, and free to die at such proper period of life as may best +suit the convenience and general welfare of the community. + +The one great industrial product of Saturn is the bread-root. The +Saturnians find this wholesome and palatable enough; and it is well they +do, as they have no other vegetable. It is what I should call a most +uninteresting kind of eatable, but it serves as food and drink, having +juice enough, so that they get along without water. They have a tough, +dry grass, which, matted together, furnishes them with clothes +sufficiently warm for their cold-blooded constitutions, and more than +sufficiently ugly. + +A piece of ground large enough to furnish bread-root for ten persons is +allotted to each head of a household, allowance being made for the +possible increase of families. This, however, is not a very important +consideration, as the Saturnians are not a prolific race. The great +object of life being the product of the largest possible quantity of +bread-roots, and women not being so capable in the fields as the stronger +sex, females are considered an undesirable addition to society. The one +thing the Saturnians dread and abhor is inequality. The whole object of +their laws and customs is to maintain the strictest equality in +everything,--social relations, property, so far as they can be said to +have anything which can be so called, mode of living, dress, and all +other matters. It is their boast that nobody ever starved under their +government. Nobody goes in rags, for the coarse-fibred grass from which +they fabricate their clothes is very durable. (I confess I wondered how +a woman could live in Saturn. They have no looking-glasses. There is no +such article as a ribbon known among them. All their clothes are of one +pattern. I noticed that there were no pockets in any of their garments, +and learned that a pocket would be considered prima facie evidence of +theft, as no honest person would have use for such a secret receptacle.) +Before the revolution which established the great law of absolute and +lifelong equality, the inhabitants used to feed at their own private +tables. Since the regeneration of society all meals are taken in common. +The last relic of barbarism was the use of plates,--one or even more to +each individual. This "odious relic of an effete civilization," as they +called it, has long been superseded by oblong hollow receptacles, one of +which is allotted to each twelve persons. A great riot took place when +an attempt was made by some fastidious and exclusive egotists to +introduce partitions which should partially divide one portion of these +receptacles into individual compartments. The Saturnians boast that they +have no paupers, no thieves, none of those fictitious values called +money,--all which things, they hear, are known in that small Saturn +nearer the sun than the great planet which is their dwelling-place. + +"I suppose that now they have levelled everything they are quiet and +contented. Have they any of those uneasy people called reformers?" + +"Indeed they have," said my attendant. "There are the Orthobrachians, +who declaim against the shameful abuse of the left arm and hand, and +insist on restoring their perfect equality with the right. Then there +are Isopodic societies, which insist on bringing back the original +equality of the upper and lower limbs. If you can believe it, they +actually practise going on all fours,--generally in a private way, a few +of them together, but hoping to bring the world round to them in the near +future." + +Here I had to stop and laugh. + +"I should think life might be a little dull in Saturn," I said. + +"It is liable to that accusation," she answered. "Do you notice how many +people you meet with their mouths stretched wide open?" + +"Yes," I said, "and I do not know what to make of it. I should think +every fourth or fifth person had his mouth open in that way." + +"They are suffering from the endemic disease of their planet, prolonged +and inveterate gaping or yawning, which has ended in dislocation of the +lower jaw. After a time this becomes fixed, and requires a difficult +surgical operation to restore it to its place." + +It struck me that, in spite of their boast that they have no paupers, no +thieves, no money, they were a melancholy-looking set of beings. + +"What are their amusements?" I asked. + +"Intoxication and suicide are their chief recreations. They have a way +of mixing the oxygen which issues in small jets from certain natural +springs with their atmospheric nitrogen in the proportion of about twenty +per cent, which makes very nearly the same thing as the air of your +planet. But to the Saturnians the mixture is highly intoxicating, and is +therefore a relief to the monotony of their every-day life. This mixture +is greatly sought after, but hard to obtain, as the sources of oxygen are +few and scanty. It shortens the lives of those who have recourse to it; +but if it takes too long, they have other ways of escaping from a life +which cuts and dries everything for its miserable subjects, defeats all +the natural instincts, confounds all individual characteristics, and +makes existence such a colossal bore, as your worldly people say, that +self-destruction becomes a luxury." + +Number Five stopped here. + +Your imaginary wholesale Shakerdom is all very fine, said I. Your +Utopia, your New Atlantis, and the rest are pretty to look at. But your +philosophers are treating the world of living souls as if they were, each +of them, playing a game of solitaire,--all the pegs and all the holes +alike. Life is a very different sort of game. It is a game of chess, +and not of solitaire, nor even of checkers. The men are not all pawns, +but you have your knights, bishops, rooks,--yes, your king and queen,--to +be provided for. Not with these names, of course, but all looking for +their proper places, and having their own laws and modes of action. You +can play solitaire with the members of your own family for pegs, if you +like, and if none of them rebel. You can play checkers with a little +community of meek, like-minded people. But when it comes to the handling +of a great state, you will find that nature has emptied a box of chessmen +before you, and you must play with them so as to give each its proper +move, or sweep them off the board, and come back to the homely game such +as I used to see played with beans and kernels of corn on squares marked +upon the back of the kitchen bellows. + +It was curious to see how differently Number Five's narrative was +received by the different listeners in our circle. Number Five herself +said she supposed she ought to be ashamed of its absurdities, but she did +not know that it was much sillier than dreams often are, and she thought +it might amuse the company. She was herself always interested by these +ideal pictures of society. But it seemed to her that life must be dull +in any of them, and with that idea in her head her dreaming fancy had +drawn these pictures. + +The Professor was interested in her conception of the existence of the +Lunites without waste, and the death in life of the nitrogen-breathing +Saturnians. Dream-chemistry was a new subject to him. Perhaps Number +Five would give him some lessons in it. + +At this she smiled, and said she was afraid she could not teach him +anything, but if he would answer a few questions in matter-of-fact +chemistry which had puzzled her she would be vastly obliged to him. + +"You must come to my laboratory," said the Professor. + +"I will come to-morrow," said Number Five. + +Oh, yes! Much laboratory work they will do! Play of mutual affinities. +Amalgamates. No freezing mixtures, I'll warrant! + +Why shouldn't we get a romance out of all this, hey? + +But Number Five looks as innocent as a lamb, and as brave as a lion. She +does not care a copper for the looks that are going round The Teacups. + +Our Doctor was curious about those cases of anchylosis, as he called it, +of the lower jaw. He thought it a quite possible occurrence. Both the +young girls thought the dream gave a very hard view of the optimists, who +look forward to a reorganization of society which shall rid mankind of +the terrible evils of over-crowding and competition. + +Number Seven was quite excited about the matter. He had himself drawn up +a plan for a new social arrangement. He had shown it to the legal +gentleman who has lately joined us. This gentleman thought it +well-intended, but that it would take one constable to every three +inhabitants to enforce its provisions. + +I said the dream could do no harm; it was too outrageously improbable to +come home to anybody's feelings. Dreams were like broken mosaics,--the +separated stones might here and there make parts of pictures. If one +found a caricature of himself made out of the pieces which had +accidentally come together, he would smile at it, knowing that it was an +accidental effect with no malice in it. If any of you really believe in +a working Utopia, why not join the Shakers, and convert the world to this +mode of life? Celibacy alone would cure a great many of the evils you +complain of. + +I thought this suggestion seemed to act rather unfavorably upon the +ladies of our circle. The two Annexes looked inquiringly at each other. +Number Five looked smilingly at them. She evidently thought it was time +to change the subject of conversation, for she turned to me and said, +"You promised to read us the poem you read before your old classmates the +other evening." + +I will fulfill my promise, I said. We felt that this might probably be +our last meeting as a Class. The personal reference is to our greatly +beloved and honored classmate, James Freeman Clarke. + + AFTER THE CURFEW. + + The Play is over. While the light + Yet lingers in the darkening hall, + + I come to say a last Good-night + Before the final Exeunt all. + + We gathered once, a joyous throng: + The jovial toasts went gayly round; + With jest, and laugh, and shout, and song + we made the floors and walls resound. + + We come with feeble steps and slow, + A little band of four or five, + Left from the wrecks of long ago, + Still pleased to find ourselves alive. + + Alive! How living, too, are they + whose memories it is ours to share! + Spread the long table's full array, + There sits a ghost in every chair! + + One breathing form no more, alas! + Amid our slender group we see; + With him we still remained "The Class," + without his presence what are we? + + The hand we ever loved to clasp, + That tireless hand which knew no rest, + Loosed from affection's clinging grasp, + Lies nerveless on the peaceful breast. + + The beaming eye, the cheering voice, + That lent to life a generous glow, + whose every meaning said "Rejoice," + we see, we hear, no more below. + + The air seems darkened by his loss, + Earth's shadowed features look less fair, + And heavier weighs the daily cross + His willing shoulders helped as bear. + + Why mourn that we, the favored few + + Whom grasping Time so long has spared + Life's sweet illusions to pursue, + The common lot of age have shared? + + In every pulse of Friendship's heart + There breeds unfelt a throb of pain, + One hour must rend its links apart, + Though years on years have forged the chain. + + So ends "The Boys,"--a lifelong play. + We too must hear the Prompter's call + To fairer scenes and brighter day + Farewell! I let the curtain fall. + + + + +IV + +If the reader thinks that all these talking Teacups came together by mere +accident, as people meet at a boarding-house, I may as well tell him at +once that he is mistaken. If he thinks I am going to explain how it is +that he finds them thus brought together, whether they form a secret +association, whether they are the editors of this or that periodical, +whether they are connected with some institution, and so on,--I must +disappoint him. It is enough that he finds them in each other's company, +a very mixed assembly, of different sexes, ages, and pursuits; and if +there is a certain mystery surrounds their meetings, he must not be +surprised. Does he suppose we want to be known and talked about in +public as "Teacups"? No; so far as we give to the community some records +of the talks at our table our thoughts become public property, but the +sacred personality of every Teacup must be properly respected. If any +wonder at the presence of one of our number, whose eccentricities might +seem to render him an undesirable associate of the company, he should +remember that some people may have relatives whom they feel bound to keep +their eye on; besides the cracked Teacup brings out the ring of the sound +ones as nothing else does. Remember also that soundest teacup does not +always hold the best tea, or the cracked teacup the worst. + +This is a hint to the reader, who is not expected to be too curious about +the individual Teacups constituting our unorganized association. + +The Dictator Discourses. + +I have been reading Balzac's Peau de Chagrin. You have all read the +story, I hope, for it is the first of his wonderful romances which fixed +the eyes of the reading world upon him, and is a most fascinating if +somewhat fantastic tale. A young man becomes the possessor of a certain +magic skin, the peculiarity of which is that, while it gratifies every +wish formed by its possessor, it shrinks in all its dimensions each time +that a wish is gratified. The young man makes every effort to ascertain +the cause of its shrinking; invokes the aid of the physicist, the +chemist, the student of natural history, but all in vain. He draws a red +line around it. That same day he indulges a longing for a certain +object. The next morning there is a little interval between the red line +and the skin, close to which it was traced. So always, so inevitably. +As he lives on, satisfying one desire, one passion, after another, the +process of shrinking continues. A mortal disease sets in, which keeps +pace with the shrinking skin, and his life and his talisman come to an +end together. + +One would say that such a piece of integument was hardly a desirable +possession. And yet, how many of us have at this very moment a peau de +chagrin of our own, diminishing with every costly wish indulged, and +incapable, like the magical one of the story, of being arrested in its +progress. + +Need I say that I refer to those coupon bonds, issued in the days of +eight and ten per cent interest, and gradually narrowing as they drop +their semiannual slips of paper, which represent wishes to be realized, +as the roses let fall their leaves in July, as the icicles melt away in +the thaw of January? + +How beautiful was the coupon bond, arrayed in its golden raiment of +promises to pay at certain stated intervals, for a goodly number of +coming years! What annual the horticulturist can show will bear +comparison with this product of auricultural industry, which has flowered +in midsummer and midwinter for twenty successive seasons? And now the +last of its blossoms is to be plucked, and the bare stem, stripped of its +ever maturing and always welcome appendages, is reduced to the narrowest +conditions of reproductive existence. Such is the fate of the financial +peau de chagrin. Pity the poor fractional capitalist, who has just +managed to live on the eight per cent of his coupon bonds. The shears of +Atropos were not more fatal to human life than the long scissors which +cut the last coupon to the lean proprietor, whose slice of dry toast it +served to flatter with oleomargarine. Do you wonder that my thoughts +took the poetical form, in the contemplation of these changes and their +melancholy consequences? If the entire poem, of several hundred lines, +was "declined with thanks" by an unfeeling editor, that is no reason why +you should not hear a verse or two of it. + + THE PEAU DE CHAGRIN OF STATE STREET. + + How beauteous is the bond + In the manifold array + Of its promises to pay, + While the eight per cent it gives + And the rate at which one lives + Correspond! + + But at last the bough is bare + Where the coupons one by one + Through their ripening days have run, + And the bond, a beggar now, + Seeks investment anyhow, + Anywhere! + +The Mistress commonly contents herself with the general supervision of +the company, only now and then taking an active part in the conversation. +She started a question the other evening which set some of us thinking. + +"Why is it," she said, "that there is so common and so intense a desire +for poetical reputation? It seems to me that, if I were a man, I had +rather have done something worth telling of than make verses about what +other people had done." + +"You agree with Alexander the Great," said the Professor. "You would +prefer the fame of Achilles to that of Homer, who told the story of his +wrath and its direful consequences. I am afraid that I should hardly +agree with you. Achilles was little better than a Choctaw brave. I +won't quote Horace's line which characterizes him so admirably, for I +will take it for granted that you all know it. He was a gentleman,--so +is a first-class Indian,--a very noble gentleman in point of courage, +lofty bearing, courtesy, but an unsoaped, ill-clad, turbulent, +high-tempered young fellow, looked up to by his crowd very much as the +champion of the heavy weights is looked up to by his gang of blackguards. +Alexander himself was not much better,--a foolish, fiery young madcap. +How often is he mentioned except as a warning? His best record is that +he served to point a moral as 'Macedonian's madman.' He made a figure, +it is true, in Dryden's great Ode, but what kind of a figure? He got +drunk,--in very bad company, too,--and then turned fire-bug. He had one +redeeming point,--he did value his Homer, and slept with the Iliad under +his pillow. A poet like Homer seems to me worth a dozen such fellows as +Achilles and Alexander." + +"Homer is all very well far those that can read him," said Number Seven, +"but the fellows that tag verses together nowadays are mostly fools. +That's my opinion. I wrote some verses once myself, but I had been sick +and was very weak; hadn't strength enough to write in prose, I suppose." + +This aggressive remark caused a little stir at our tea-table. For you +must know, if I have not told you already, there are suspicions that we +have more than one "poet" at our table. I have already confessed that I +do myself indulge in verse now and then, and have given my readers a +specimen of my work in that line. But there is so much difference of +character in the verses which are produced at our table, without any +signature, that I feel quite sure there are at least two or three other +contributors besides myself. There is a tall, old-fashioned silver urn, +a sugar-bowl of the period of the Empire, in which the poems sent to be +read are placed by unseen hands. When the proper moment arrives, I lift +the cover of the urn and take out any manuscript it may contain. If +conversation is going on and the company are in a talking mood, I replace +the manuscript or manuscripts, clap on the cover, and wait until there is +a moment's quiet before taking it off again. I might guess the writers +sometimes by the handwriting, but there is more trouble taken to disguise +the chirography than I choose to take to identify it as that of any +particular member of our company. + +The turn the conversation took, especially the slashing onslaught of +Number Seven on the writers of verse, set me thinking and talking about +the matter. Number Five turned on the stream of my discourse by a +question. + +"You receive a good many volumes of verse, do you not?" she said, with a +look which implied that she knew I did. + +I certainly do, I answered. My table aches with them. My shelves groan +with them. Think of what a fuss Pope made about his trials, when he +complained that + + "All Bedlam or Parnassus is let out"! + +What were the numbers of the + + "Mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease" + +to that great multitude of contributors to our magazines, and authors of +little volumes--sometimes, alas! big ones--of verse, which pour out of +the press, not weekly, but daily, and at such a rate of increase that it +seems as if before long every hour would bring a book, or at least an +article which is to grow into a book by and by? + +I thanked Heaven, the other day, that I was not a critic. These +attenuated volumes of poetry in fancy bindings open their covers at one +like so many little unfledged birds, and one does so long to drop a worm +in,--a worm in the shape of a kind word for the poor fledgling! But what +a desperate business it is to deal with this army of candidates for +immortality! I have often had something to say about them, and I may be +saying over the same things; but if I do not remember what I have said, +it is not very likely that my reader will; if he does, he will find, I am +very sure, that I say it a little differently. + +What astonishes me is that this enormous mass of commonplace verse, which +burdens the postman who brings it, which it is a serious task only to get +out of its wrappers and open in two or three places, is on the whole of +so good an average quality. The dead level of mediocrity is in these +days a table-land, a good deal above the old sea-level of laboring +incapacity. Sixty years ago verses made a local reputation, which +verses, if offered today to any of our first-class magazines, would go +straight into the waste-basket. To write "poetry" was an art and mystery +in which only a few noted men and a woman or two were experts. + +When "Potter the ventriloquist," the predecessor of the well-remembered +Signor Blitz, went round giving his entertainments, there was something +unexplained, uncanny, almost awful, and beyond dispute marvellous, in his +performances. Those watches that disappeared and came back to their +owners, those endless supplies of treasures from empty hats, and +especially those crawling eggs that travelled all over the magician's +person, sent many a child home thinking that Mr. Potter must have ghostly +assistants, and raised grave doubts in the minds of "professors," that is +members of the church, whether they had not compromised their characters +by being seen at such an unhallowed exhibition. Nowadays, a clever boy +who has made a study of parlor magic can do many of those tricks almost +as well as the great sorcerer himself. How simple it all seems when we +have seen the mechanism of the deception! + +It is just so with writing in verse. It was not understood that +everybody can learn to make poetry, just as they can learn the more +difficult tricks of juggling. M. Jourdain's discovery that he had been +speaking and writing prose all his life is nothing to that of the man who +finds out in middle life, or even later, that he might have been writing +poetry all his days, if he had only known how perfectly easy and simple +it is. Not everybody, it is true, has a sufficiently good ear, a +sufficient knowledge of rhymes and capacity for handling them, to be what +is called a poet. I doubt whether more than nine out of ten, in the +average, have that combination of gifts required for the writing of +readable verse. + +This last expression of opinion created a sensation among The Teacups. +They looked puzzled for a minute. One whispered to the next Teacup, +"More than nine out of ten! I should think that was a pretty liberal +allowance." + +Yes, I continued; perhaps ninety-nine in a hundred would come nearer to +the mark. I have sometimes thought I might consider it worth while to +set up a school for instruction in the art. "Poetry taught in twelve +lessons." Congenital idiocy is no disqualification. Anybody can write +"poetry." It is a most unenviable distinction to leave published a thin +volume of verse, which nobody wanted, nobody buys, nobody reads, nobody +cares for except the author, who cries over its pathos, poor fellow, and +revels in its beauties, which he has all to himself. Come! who will be +my pupils in a Course,--Poetry taught in twelve lessons? That made a +laugh, in which most of The Teacups, myself included, joined heartily. +Through it all I heard the sweet tones of Number Five's caressing voice; +not because it was more penetrating or louder than the others, for it was +low and soft, but it was so different from the others, there was so much +more life,--the life of sweet womanhood,--dissolved in it. + +(Of course he will fall in love with her. "He? Who?" Why, the +newcomer, the Counsellor. Did I not see his eyes turn toward her as the +silvery notes rippled from her throat? Did they not follow her in her +movements, as she turned her tread this or that way? + +--What nonsense for me to be arranging matters between two people +strangers to each other before to-day!) + +"A fellow writes in verse when he has nothing to say, and feels too dull +and silly to say it in prose," said Number Seven. + +This made us laugh again, good-naturedly. I was pleased with a kind of +truth which it seemed to me to wrap up in its rather startling +affirmation. I gave a piece of advice the other day which I said I +thought deserved a paragraph to itself. It was from a letter I wrote not +long ago to an unknown young correspondent, who had a longing for seeing +himself in verse but was not hopelessly infatuated with the idea that he +was born a "poet." "When you write in prose," I said, "you say what you +mean. When you write in verse you say what you must." I was thinking +more especially of rhymed verse. Rhythm alone is a tether, and not a +very long one. But rhymes are iron fetters; it is dragging a chain and +ball to march under their incumbrance; it is a clog-dance you are +figuring in, when you execute your metrical pas seul. Consider under +what a disadvantage your thinking powers are laboring when you are +handicapped by the inexorable demands of our scanty English rhyming +vocabulary! You want to say something about the heavenly bodies, and you +have a beautiful line ending with the word stars. Were you writing in +prose, your imagination, your fancy, your rhetoric, your musical ear for +the harmonies of language, would all have full play. But there is your +rhyme fastening you by the leg, and you must either reject the line which +pleases you, or you must whip your hobbling fancy and all your limping +thoughts into the traces which are hitched to one of three or four or +half a dozen serviceable words. You cannot make any use of cars, I will +suppose; you have no occasion to talk about scars; "the red planet Mars" +has been used already; Dibdin has said enough about the gallant tars; +what is there left for you but bars? So you give up your trains of +thought, capitulate to necessity, and manage to lug in some kind of +allusion, in place or out of place, which will allow you to make use of +bars. Can there be imagined a more certain process for breaking up all +continuity of thought, for taking out all the vigor, all the virility, +which belongs to natural prose as the vehicle of strong, graceful, +spontaneous thought, than this miserable subjugation of intellect to +the-clink of well or ill matched syllables? I think you will smile if I +tell you of an idea I have had about teaching the art of writing "poems" +to the half-witted children at the Idiot Asylum. The trick of rhyming +cannot be more usefully employed than in furnishing a pleasant amusement +to the poor feeble-minded children. I should feel that I was well +employed in getting up a Primer for the pupils of the Asylum, and other +young persons who are incapable of serious thought and connected +expression. I would start in the simplest way; thus:-- + + When darkness veils the evening.... + I love to close my weary.... + +The pupil begins by supplying the missing words, which most children who +are able to keep out of fire and water can accomplish after a certain +number of trials. When the poet that is to be has got so as to perform +this task easily, a skeleton verse, in which two or three words of each +line are omitted, is given the child to fill up. By and by the more +difficult forms of metre are outlined, until at length a feebleminded +child can make out a sonnet, completely equipped with its four pairs of +rhymes in the first section and its three pairs in the second part. + +Number Seven interrupted my discourse somewhat abruptly, as is his wont; +for we grant him a license, in virtue of his eccentricity, which we +should hardly expect to be claimed by a perfectly sound Teacup. + +"That's the way,--that 's the way!" exclaimed he. "It's just the same +thing as my plan for teaching drawing." + +Some curiosity was shown among The Teacups to know what the queer +creature had got into his mind, and Number Five asked him, in her +irresistible tones, if he wouldn't oblige us by telling us all about it. + +He looked at her a moment without speaking. I suppose he has often been +made fun of,--slighted in conversation, taken as a butt for people who +thought themselves witty, made to feel as we may suppose a cracked piece +of china-ware feels when it is clinked in the company of sound bits of +porcelain. I never saw him when he was carelessly dealt with in +conversation,--for it would sometimes happen, even at our table,--without +recalling some lines of Emerson which always struck me as of wonderful +force and almost terrible truthfulness:-- + + "Alas! that one is born in blight, + Victim of perpetual slight + When thou lookest in his face + Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways + None shall ask thee what thou doest, + Or care a rush for what thou knowest, + Or listen when thou repliest, + Or remember where thou liest, + Or how thy supper is sodden;' + And another is born + To make the sun forgotten." + +Poor fellow! Number Seven has to bear a good deal in the way of neglect +and ridicule, I do not doubt. Happily, he is protected by an amount of +belief in himself which shields him from many assailants who would +torture a more sensitive nature. But the sweet voice of Number Five and +her sincere way of addressing him seemed to touch his feelings. That was +the meaning of his momentary silence, in which I saw that his eyes +glistened and a faint flush rose on his cheeks. In a moment, however, as +soon as he was on his hobby, he was all right, and explained his new and +ingenious system as follows: + +"A man at a certain distance appears as a dark spot,--nothing more. Good. +Anybody, man, woman, or child, can make a dot, say a period, such as we +use in writing. Lesson No. 1. Make a dot; that is, draw your man, a +mile off, if that is far enough. Now make him come a little nearer, a +few rods, say. The dot is an oblong figure now. Good. Let your scholar +draw the oblong figure. It is as easy as it is to make a note of +admiration. Your man comes nearer, and now some hint of a bulbous +enlargement at one end, and perhaps of lateral appendages and a +bifurcation, begins to show itself. The pupil sets down with his pencil +just what he sees,--no more. So by degrees the man who serves as model +approaches. A bright pupil will learn to get the outline of a human +figure in ten lessons, the model coming five hundred feet nearer each +time. A dull one may require fifty, the model beginning a mile off, or +more, and coming a hundred feet nearer at each move." + +The company were amused by all this, but could not help seeing that there +was a certain practical possibility about the scheme. Our two Annexes, +as we call then, appeared to be interested in the project, or fancy, or +whim, or whatever the older heads might consider it. "I guess I'll try +it," said the American Annex. "Quite so," answered the English Annex. +Why the first girl "guessed" about her own intentions it is hard to say. +What "quite so" referred to it would not be easy to determine. But these +two expressions would decide the nationality of our two young ladies if +we met them on the top of the great Pyramid. + +I was very glad that Number Seven had interrupted me. In fact, it is a +good thing once in a while to break in upon the monotony of a steady +talker at a dinner-table, tea-table, or any other place of social +converse. The best talker is liable to become the most formidable of +bores. It is a peculiarity of the bore that he is the last person to +find himself out. Many a terebrant I have known who, in that capacity, +to borrow a line from Coleridge, + + "Was great, nor knew how great he was." + +A line, by the way, which, as I have remarked, has in it a germ like that +famous "He builded better than he knew" of Emerson. + +There was a slight lull in the conversation. The Mistress, who keeps an +eye on the course of things, and feared that one of those panic silences +was impending, in which everybody wants to say something and does not +know just what to say, begged me to go on with my remarks about the +"manufacture" of "poetry." + +You use the right term, madam, I said. The manufacture of that article +has become an extensive and therefore an important branch of industry. +One must be an editor, which I am not, or a literary confidant of a wide +circle of correspondents, which I am, to have any idea of the enormous +output of verse which is characteristic of our time. There are many +curious facts connected with this phenomenon. Educated people--yes, and +many who are not educated--have discovered that rhymes are not the +private property of a few noted writers who, having squatted on that part +of the literary domain some twenty or forty or sixty years ago, have, as +it were, fenced it in with their touchy, barbed-wire reputations, and +have come to regard it and cause it to be regarded as their private +property. The discovery having been made that rhyme is not a paddock for +this or that race-horse, but a common, where every colt, pony, and donkey +can range at will; a vast irruption into that once-privileged inclosure +has taken place. The study of the great invasion is interesting. + +Poetry is commonly thought to be the language of emotion. On the +contrary, most of what is so called proves the absence of all passionate +excitement. It is a cold-blooded, haggard, anxious, worrying hunt after +rhymes which can be made serviceable, after images which will be +effective, after phrases which are sonorous; all this under limitations +which restrict the natural movements of fancy and imagination. There is +a secondary excitement in overcoming the difficulties of rhythm and +rhyme, no doubt, but this is not the emotional heat excited by the +subject of the "poet's" treatment. True poetry, the best of it, is but +the ashes of a burnt-out passion. The flame was in the eye and in the +cheek, the coals may be still burning in the heart, but when we come to +the words it leaves behind it, a little warmth, a cinder or two just +glimmering under the dead gray ashes,--that is all we can look for. When +it comes to the manufactured article, one is surprised to find how well +the metrical artisans have learned to imitate the real thing. They catch +all the phrases of the true poet. They imitate his metrical forms as a +mimic copies the gait of the person he is representing. + +Now I am not going to abuse "these same metre ballad-mongers," for the +obvious reason that, as all The Teacups know, I myself belong to the +fraternity. I don't think that this reason should hinder my having my +say about the ballad-mongering business. For the last thirty years I +have been in the habit of receiving a volume of poems or a poem, printed +or manuscript--I will not say daily, though I sometimes receive more than +one in a day, but at very short intervals. I have been consulted by +hundreds of writers of verse as to the merit of their performances, and +have often advised the writers to the best of my ability. Of late I have +found it impossible to attempt to read critically all the literary +productions, in verse and in prose, which have heaped themselves on every +exposed surface of my library, like snowdrifts along the railroad +tracks,--blocking my literary pathway, so that I can hardly find my daily +papers. + +What is the meaning of this rush into rhyming of such a multitude of +people, of all ages, from the infant phenomenon to the oldest inhabitant? + +Many of my young correspondents have told me in so many words, "I want to +be famous." Now it is true that of all the short cuts to fame, in time +of peace, there is none shorter than the road paved with rhymes. Byron +woke up one morning and found himself famous. Still more notably did +Rouget de l'Isle fill the air of France, nay, the whole atmosphere of +freedom all the world over, with his name wafted on the wings of the +Marseillaise, the work of a single night. But if by fame the aspirant +means having his name brought before and kept before the public, there is +a much cheaper way of acquiring that kind of notoriety. Have your +portrait taken as a "Wonderful Cure of a Desperate Disease given up by +all the Doctors." You will get a fair likeness of yourself and a partial +biographical notice, and have the satisfaction, if not of promoting the +welfare of the community, at least that of advancing the financial +interests of the benefactor whose enterprise has given you your coveted +notoriety. If a man wants to be famous, he had much better try the +advertising doctor than the terrible editor, whose waste-basket is a maw +which is as insatiable as the temporary stomach of Jack the Giant-killer. + +"You must not talk so," said Number Five. "I know you don't mean any +wrong to the true poets, but you might be thought to hold them cheap, +whereas you value the gift in others,--in yourself too, I rather think. +There are a great many women,--and some men,--who write in verse from a +natural instinct which leads them to that form of expression. If you +could peep into the portfolio of all the cultivated women among your +acquaintances, you would be surprised, I believe, to see how many of them +trust their thoughts and feelings to verse which they never think of +publishing, and much of which never meets any eyes but their own. Don't +be cruel to the sensitive natures who find a music in the harmonies of +rhythm and rhyme which soothes their own souls, if it reaches no +farther." + +I was glad that Number Five spoke up as she did. Her generous instinct +came to the rescue of the poor poets just at the right moment. Not that +I meant to deal roughly with them, but the "poets" I have been forced +into relation with have impressed me with certain convictions which are +not flattering to the fraternity, and if my judgments are not accompanied +by my own qualifications, distinctions, and exceptions, they may seem +harsh to many readers. + +Let me draw a picture which many a young man and woman, and some no +longer young, will recognize as the story of their own experiences. + +--He is sitting alone with his own thoughts and memories. What is that +book he is holding? Something precious, evidently, for it is bound in +"tree calf," and there is gilding enough about it for a birthday present. +The reader seems to be deeply absorbed in its contents, and at times +greatly excited by what he reads; for his face is flushed, his eyes +glitter, and--there rolls a large tear down his cheek. Listen to him; he +is reading aloud in impassioned tones: + + And have I coined my soul in words for naught? + And must I, with the dim, forgotten throng + Of silent ghosts that left no earthly trace + To show they once had breathed this vital air, + Die out, of mortal memories? + +His voice is choked by his emotion. "How is it possible," he says to +himself, "that any one can read my 'Gaspings for Immortality' without +being impressed by their freshness, their passion, their beauty, their +originality?" Tears come to his relief freely,--so freely that he has +to push the precious volume out of the range of their blistering shower. +Six years ago "Gaspings for Immortality" was published, advertised, +praised by the professionals whose business it is to boost their +publishers' authors. A week and more it was seen on the counters of the +booksellers and at the stalls in the railroad stations. Then it +disappeared from public view. A few copies still kept their place on the +shelves of friends,--presentation copies, of course, as there is no +evidence that any were disposed of by sale; and now, one might as well +ask for the lost books of Livy as inquire at a bookstore for "Gaspings +for Immortality." + +The authors of these poems are all round us, men and women, and no one +with a fair amount of human sympathy in his disposition would treat them +otherwise than tenderly. Perhaps they do not need tender treatment. How +do you know that posterity may not resuscitate these seemingly dead +poems, and give their author the immortality for which he longed and +labored? It is not every poet who is at once appreciated. Some will +tell you that the best poets never are. Who can say that you, dear +unappreciated brother or sister, are not one of those whom it is left for +after times to discover among the wrecks of the past, and hold up to the +admiration of the world? + +I have not thought it necessary to put in all the interpellations, as the +French call them, which broke the course of this somewhat extended series +of remarks; but the comments of some of The Teacups helped me to shape +certain additional observations, and may seem to the reader as of more +significance than what I had been saying. + +Number Seven saw nothing but the folly and weakness of the "rhyming +cranks," as he called them. He thought the fellow that I had described +as blubbering over his still-born poems would have been better occupied +in earning his living in some honest way or other. He knew one chap that +published a volume of verses, and let his wife bring up the wood for the +fire by which he was writing. A fellow says, "I am a poet!" and he +thinks himself different from common folks. He ought to be excused from +military service. He might be killed, and the world would lose the +inestimable products of his genius. "I believe some of 'em think," said +Number Seven, "that they ought not to be called upon to pay their taxes +and their bills for household expenses, like the rest of us." + +"If they would only study and take to heart Horace's 'Ars Poetica,'" said +the Professor, "it would be a great benefit to them and to the world at +large. I would not advise you to follow him too literally, of course, +for, as you will see, the changes that have taken place since his time +would make some of his precepts useless and some dangerous, but the +spirit of them is always instructive. This is the way, somewhat +modernized and accompanied by my running commentary, in which he counsels +a young poet: + +"'Don't try to write poetry, my boy, when you are not in the mood for +doing it,--when it goes against the grain. You are a fellow of +sense,--you understand all that. + +"'If you have written anything which you think well of, show it to +Mr.______ , the well-known critic; to "the governor," as you call +him,--your honored father; and to me, your friend.' + +"To the critic is well enough, if you like to be overhauled and put out +of conceit with yourself,--it may do you good; but I wouldn't go to 'the +governor' with my verses, if I were you. For either he will think what +you have written is something wonderful, almost as good as he could have +written himself,--in fact, he always did believe in hereditary +genius,--or he will pooh-pooh the whole rhyming nonsense, and tell you +that you had a great deal better stick to your business, and leave all +the word-jingling to Mother Goose and her followers. + +"'Show me your verses,' says Horace. Very good it was in him, and mighty +encouraging the first counsel he gives! 'Keep your poem to yourself for +some eight or ten years; you will have time to look it over, to correct +it and make it fit to present to the public.' + +"'Much obliged for your advice,' says the poor poet, thirsting for a +draught of fame, and offered a handful of dust. And off he hurries to +the printer, to be sure that his poem comes out in the next number of the +magazine he writes for." + +"Is not poetry the natural language of lovers?" + +It was the Tutor who asked this question, and I thought he looked in the +direction of Number Five, as if she might answer his question. But Number +Five stirred her tea devotedly; there was a lump of sugar, I suppose, +that acted like a piece of marble. So there was a silence while the lump +was slowly dissolving, and it was anybody's chance who saw fit to take up +the conversation. + +The voice that broke the silence was not the sweet, winsome one we were +listening for, but it instantly arrested the attention of the company. +It was the grave, manly voice of one used to speaking, and accustomed to +be listened to with deference. This was the first time that the company +as a whole had heard it, for the speaker was the new-comer who has been +repeatedly alluded to,--the one of whom I spoke as "the Counsellor." + +"I think I can tell you something about that," said the Counsellor. "I +suppose you will wonder how a man of my profession can know or interest +himself about a question so remote from his arid pursuits. And yet there +is hardly one man in a thousand who knows from actual experience a +fraction of what I have learned of the lovers' vocabulary in my +professional experience. I have, I am sorry to say, had to take an +important part in a great number of divorce cases. These have brought +before me scores and hundreds of letters, in which every shade of the +great passion has been represented. What has most struck me in these +amatory correspondences has been their remarkable sameness. It seems as +if writing love-letters reduced all sorts of people to the same level. I +don't remember whether Lord Bacon has left us anything in that +line,--unless, indeed, he wrote Romeo and Juliet' and the 'Sonnets;' but +if he has, I don't believe they differ so very much from those of his +valet or his groom to their respective lady-loves. It is always, My +darling! my darling! The words of endearment are the only ones the lover +wants to employ, and he finds the vocabulary too limited for his vast +desires. So his letters are apt to be rather tedious except to the +personage to whom they are addressed. As to poetry, it is very common to +find it in love-letters, especially in those that have no love in them. +The letters of bigamists and polygamists are rich in poetical extracts. +Occasionally, an original spurt in rhyme adds variety to an otherwise +monotonous performance. I don't think there is much passion in men's +poetry addressed to women. I agree with The Dictator that poetry is +little more than the ashes of passion; still it may show that the flame +has had its sweep where you find it, unless, indeed, it is shoveled in +from another man's fireplace." + +"What do you say to the love poetry of women?" asked the Professor. "Did +ever passion heat words to incandescence as it did those of Sappho?" + +The Counsellor turned,--not to Number Five, as he ought to have done, +according to my programme, but to the Mistress. + +"Madam," he said, "your sex is adorable in many ways, but in the abandon +of a genuine love-letter it is incomparable. I have seen a string of +women's love-letters, in which the creature enlaced herself about the +object of her worship as that South American parasite which clasps the +tree to which it has attached itself, begins with a slender succulent +network, feeds on the trunk, spreads its fingers out to hold firmly to +one branch after another, thickens, hardens, stretches in every +direction, following the boughs,--and at length gets strong enough to +hold in its murderous arms, high up in air, the stump and shaft of the +once sturdy growth that was its support and subsistence." + +The Counsellor did not say all this quite so formally as I have set it +down here, but in a much easier way. In fact, it is impossible to smooth +out a conversation from memory without stiffening it; you can't have a +dress shirt look quite right without starching the bosom. + +Some of us would have liked to hear more about those letters in the +divorce cases, but the Counsellor had to leave the table. He promised to +show us some pictures he has of the South American parasite. I have seen +them, and I can assure you they are very curious. + +The following verses were found in the urn, or sugar-bowl. + + CACOETHES SCRIBENDI. + + If all the trees in all the woods were men, + And each and every blade of grass a pen; + If every leaf on every shrub and tree + Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea + Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes + Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, + And for ten thousand ages, day and night, + The human race should write, and write, and write, + Till all the pens and paper were used up, + And the huge inkstand was an empty cup, + Still would the scribblers clustered round its brim + Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink. + + + + +V + +"Dolce, ma non troppo dolce," said the Professor to the Mistress, who was +sweetening his tea. She always sweetens his and mine for us. He has +been attending a series of concerts, and borrowed the form of the +directions to the orchestra. "Sweet, but not too sweet," he said, +translating the Italian for the benefit of any of the company who might +not be linguists or musical experts. + +"Do you go to those musical hullabaloos?" called out Number Seven. There +was something very much like rudeness in this question and the tone in +which it was asked. But we are used to the outbursts, and extravagances, +and oddities of Number Seven, and do not take offence at his rough +speeches as we should if any other of the company uttered them. + +"If you mean the concerts that have been going on this season, yes, I +do," said the Professor, in a bland, good-humored way. + +"And do you take real pleasure in the din of all those screeching and +banging and growling instruments?" + +"Yes," he answered, modestly, "I enjoy the brouhaha, if you choose to +consider it such, of all this quarrelsome menagerie of noise-making +machines, brought into order and harmony by the presiding genius, the +leader, who has made a happy family of these snarling stringed +instruments and whining wind instruments, so that although + + "Linguae centum sent, oraque centum, + +"notwithstanding there are a hundred vibrating tongues and a hundred +bellowing mouths, their one grand blended and harmonized uproar sets all +my fibres tingling with a not unpleasing tremor." + +"Do you understand it? Do you take any idea from it? Do you know what +it all means?" said Number Seven. + +The Professor was long-suffering under this series of somewhat peremptory +questions. He replied very placidly, "I am afraid I have but a +superficial outside acquaintance with the secrets, the unfathomable +mysteries, of music. I can no more conceive of the working conditions of +the great composer, + + "'Untwisting all the chains that tie + The hidden soul of harmony,' + +"than a child of three years can follow the reasonings of Newton's +'Principia.' I do not even pretend that I can appreciate the work of a +great master as a born and trained musician does. Still, I do love a +great crash of harmonies, and the oftener I listen to these musical +tempests the higher my soul seems to ride upon them, as the wild fowl I +see through my window soar more freely and fearlessly the fiercer the +storm with which they battle." + +"That's all very well," said Number Seven, "but I wish we could get the +old-time music back again. You ought to have heard,--no, I won't mention +her, dead, poor girl,--dead and singing with the saints in heaven,--but +the S_____ girls. If you could have heard them as I did when I was a +boy, you would have cried, as we all used to. Do you cry at those great +musical smashes? How can you cry when you don't know what it is all +about? We used to think the words meant something,--we fancied that +Burns and Moore said some things very prettily. I suppose you've +outgrown all that." + +No one can handle Number Seven in one of his tantrums half so well as +Number Five can do it. She can pick out what threads of sense may be +wound off from the tangle of his ideas when they are crowded and +confused, as they are apt to be at times. She can soften the occasional +expression of half-concealed ridicule with which the poor old fellow's +sallies are liable to be welcomed--or unwelcomed. She knows that the +edge of a broken teacup may be sharper, very possibly, than that of a +philosopher's jackknife. A mind a little off its balance, one which has +a slightly squinting brain as its organ; will often prove fertile in +suggestions. Vulgar, cynical, contemptuous listeners fly at all its +weaknesses, and please themselves with making light of its often futile +ingenuities, when a wiser audience would gladly accept a hint which +perhaps could be developed in some profitable direction, or so interpret +an erratic thought that it should prove good sense in disguise. That is +the way Number Five was in the habit of dealing with the explosions of +Number Seven. Do you think she did not see the ridiculous element in a +silly speech, or the absurdity of an outrageously extravagant assertion? +Then you never heard her laugh when she could give way to her sense of +the ludicrous without wounding the feelings of any other person. But her +kind heart never would forget itself, and so Number Seven had a champion +who was always ready to see that his flashes of intelligence, fitful as +they were, and liable to be streaked with half-crazy fancies, always +found one willing recipient of what light there was in them. + +Number Five, I have found, is a true lover of music, and has a right to +claim a real knowledge of its higher and deeper mysteries. But she +accepted very cordially what our light-headed companion said about the +songs he used to listen to. + +"There is no doubt," she remarked, "that the tears which used to be shed +over 'Oft in the sully night,' or 'Auld Robin Gray,' or 'A place in thy +memory, dearest,' were honest tears, coming from the true sources of +emotion. There was no affectation about them; those songs came home to +the sensibilities of young people,--of all who had any sensibilities to +be acted upon. And on the other hand, there is a great amount of +affectation in the apparent enthusiasm of many persons in admiring and +applauding music of which they have not the least real appreciation. +They do not know whether it is good or bad, the work of a first-rate or a +fifth-rate composer; whether there are coherent elements in it, or +whether it is nothing more than 'a concourse of sweet sounds' with no +organic connections. One must be educated, no doubt, to understand the +more complex and difficult kinds of musical composition. Go to the great +concerts where you know that the music is good, and that you ought to +like it whether you do or not. Take a music-bath once or twice a week +for a few seasons, and you will find that it is to the soul what the +water-bath is to the body. I wouldn't trouble myself about the +affectations of people who go to this or that series of concerts chiefly +because it is fashionable. Some of these people whom we think so silly +and hold so cheap will perhaps find, sooner or later, that they have a +dormant faculty which is at last waking up,--and that they who came +because others came, and began by staring at the audience, are listening +with a newly found delight. Every one of us has a harp under bodice or +waistcoat, and if it can only once get properly strung and tuned it will +respond to all outside harmonies." + +The Professor has some ideas about music, which I believe he has given to +the world in one form or another; but the world is growing old and +forgetful, and needs to be reminded now and then of what one has formerly +told it. + +"I have had glimpses," the Professor said, "of the conditions into which +music is capable of bringing a sensitive nature. Glimpses, I say, +because I cannot pretend that I am capable of sounding all the depths or +reaching all the heights to which music may transport our mortal +consciousness. Let me remind you of a curious fact with reference to the +seat of the musical sense. Far down below the great masses of thinking +marrow and its secondary agents, just as the brain is about to merge in +the spinal cord, the roots of the nerve of hearing spread their white +filaments out into the sentient matter, where they report what the +external organs of hearing tell them. This sentient matter is in remote +connection only with the mental organs, far more remote than the centres +of the sense of vision and that of smell. In a word, the musical faculty +might be said to have a little brain of its own. It has a special world +and a private language all to itself. How can one explain its +significance to those whose musical faculties are in a rudimentary state +of development, or who have never had them trained? Can you describe in +intelligible language the smell of a rose as compared with that of a +violet? No,--music can be translated only by music. Just so far as it +suggests worded thought, it falls short of its highest office. Pure +emotional movements of the spiritual nature,--that is what I ask of +music. Music will be the universal language,--the Volapuk of spiritual +being." + +"Angels sit down with their harps and play at each other, I suppose," +said Number Seven. "Must have an atmosphere up there if they have harps, +or they wouldn't get any music. Wonder if angels breathe like mortals? +If they do, they must have lungs and air passages, of course. Think of +an angel with the influenza, and nothing but a cloud for a handkerchief!" + +--This is a good instance of the way in which Number Seven's squinting +brain works. You will now and then meet just such brains in heads you +know very well. Their owners are much given to asking unanswerable +questions. A physicist may settle it for us whether there is an +atmosphere about a planet or not, but it takes a brain with an extra +fissure in it to ask these unexpected questions,--questions which the +natural philosopher cannot answer, and which the theologian never thinks +of asking. + +The company at our table do not keep always in the same places. The +first thing I noticed, the other evening, was that the Tutor was sitting +between the two Annexes, and the Counsellor was next to Number Five. +Something ought to come of this arrangement. One of those two young +ladies must certainly captivate and perhaps capture the Tutor. They are +just the age to be falling in love and to be fallen in love with. The +Tutor is good looking, intellectual, suspected of writing poetry, but a +little shy, it appears to me. I am glad to see him between the two girls. +If there were only one, she might be shy too, and then there would be +less chance for a romance such as I am on the lookout for; but these +young persons lend courage to each other, and between them, if he does +not wake up like Cymon at the sight of Iphigenia, I shall be +disappointed. As for the Counsellor and Number Five, they will soon find +each other out. Yes, it is all pretty clear in my mind,--except that +there is always an x in a problem where sentiments are involved. No, not +so clear about the Tutor. Predestined, I venture my guess, to one or the +other, but to which? I will suspend my opinion for the present. + +I have found out that the Counsellor is a childless widower. I am told +that the Tutor is unmarried, and so far as known not engaged. There is no +use in denying it,--a company without the possibility of a love-match +between two of its circle is like a champagne bottle with the cork out +for some hours as compared to one with its pop yet in reserve. However, +if there should be any love-making, it need not break up our +conversations. Most of it will be carried on away from our tea-table. + +Some of us have been attending certain lectures on Egypt and its +antiquities. I have never been on the Nile. If in any future state +there shall be vacations in which we may have liberty to revisit our old +home, equipped with a complete brand-new set of mortal senses as our +travelling outfit, I think one of the first places I should go to, after +my birthplace, the old gambrel-roofed house,--the place where it stood, +rather,--would be that mighty, awe-inspiring river. I do not suppose we +shall ever know half of what we owe to the wise and wonderful people who +confront us with the overpowering monuments of a past which flows out of +the unfathomable darkness as the great river streams from sources even as +yet but imperfectly explored. + +I have thought a good deal about Egypt, lately, with reference to our +historical monuments. How did the great unknown mastery who fixed the +two leading forms of their monumental records arrive at those admirable +and eternal types, the pyramid and the obelisk? How did they get their +model of the pyramid? + +Here is an hour-glass, not inappropriately filled with sand from the +great Egyptian desert. I turn it, and watch the sand as it accumulates +in the lower half of the glass. How symmetrically, how beautifully, how +inevitably, the little particles pile up the cone, which is ever building +and unbuilding itself, always aiming at the stability which is found only +at a certain fixed angle! The Egyptian children playing in the sand must +have noticed this as they let the grains fall from their hands, and the +sloping sides of the miniature pyramid must have been among the familiar +sights to the little boys and girls for whom the sand furnished their +earliest playthings. Nature taught her children through the working of +the laws of gravitation how to build so that her forces should act in +harmony with art, to preserve the integrity of a structure meant to reach +a far-off posterity. The pyramid is only the cone in which Nature +arranges her heaped and sliding fragments; the cone with flattened +Surfaces, as it is prefigured in certain well-known crystalline forms. +The obelisk is from another of Nature's patterns; it is only a gigantic +acicular crystal. + +The Egyptians knew what a monument should be, simple, noble, durable. It +seems to me that we Americans might take a lesson from those early +architects. Our cemeteries are crowded with monuments which are very far +from simple, anything but noble, and stand a small chance of being +permanent. The pyramid is rarely seen, perhaps because it takes up so +much room; and when built on a small scale seems insignificant as we +think of it, dwarfed by the vast structures of antiquity. The obelisk is +very common, and when in just proportions and of respectable dimensions +is unobjectionable. + +But the gigantic obelisks like that on Bunker Hill, and especially the +Washington monument at the national capital, are open to critical +animadversion. Let us contrast the last mentioned of these great piles +with the obelisk as the Egyptian conceived and executed it. The new +Pharaoh ordered a memorial of some important personage or event. In the +first place, a mighty stone was dislodged from its connections, and +lifted, unbroken, from the quarry. This was a feat from which our modern +stone-workers shrink dismayed. The Egyptians appear to have handled +these huge monoliths as our artisans handle hearthstones and doorsteps, +for the land actually bristled with such giant columns. They were shaped +and finished as nicely as if they were breastpins for the Titans to wear, +and on their polished surfaces were engraved in imperishable characters +the records they were erected to preserve. + +Europe and America borrow these noble productions of African art and +power, and find them hard enough to handle after they have succeeded in +transporting them to Rome, or London, or New York. Their simplicity, +grandeur, imperishability, speaking symbolism, shame all the pretentious +and fragile works of human art around them. The obelisk has no joints +for the destructive agencies of nature to attack; the pyramid has no +masses hanging in unstable equilibrium, and threatening to fall by their +own weight in the course of a thousand or two years. + +America says the Father of his Country must have a monument worthy of his +exalted place in history. What shall it be? A temple such as Athens +might have been proud to rear upon her Acropolis? An obelisk such as +Thebes might have pointed out with pride to the strangers who found +admission through her hundred gates? After long meditation and the +rejection of the hybrid monstrosities with which the nation was menaced, +an obelisk is at last decided upon. How can it be made grand and +dignified enough to be equal to the office assigned it? We dare not +attempt to carve a single stone from the living rock,--all our modern +appliances fail to make the task as easy to us as it seems to have been +to the early Egyptians. No artistic skill is required in giving a +four-square tapering figure to a stone column. If we cannot shape a +solid obelisk of the proper dimensions, we can build one of separate +blocks. How can we give it the distinction we demand for it? The nation +which can brag that it has "the biggest show on earth" cannot boast a +great deal in the way of architecture, but it can do one thing,--it can +build an obelisk that shall be taller than any structure now standing +which the hand of man has raised. Build an obelisk! How different the +idea of such a structure from that of the unbroken, unjointed prismatic +shaft, one perfect whole, as complete in itself, as fitly shaped and +consolidated to defy the elements, as the towering palm or the tapering +pine! Well, we had the satisfaction for a time of claiming the tallest +structure in the world; and now that the new Tower of Babel which has +sprung up in Paris has killed that pretention, I think we shall feel and +speak more modestly about our stone hyperbole, our materialization of the +American love of the superlative. We have the higher civilization among +us, and we must try to keep down the forth-putting instincts of the +lower. We do not want to see our national monument placarded as "the +greatest show on earth,"--perhaps it is well that it is taken down from +that bad eminence. + +I do not think that this speech of mine was very well received. It +appeared to jar somewhat on the nerves of the American Annex. There was +a smile on the lips of the other Annex,--the English girl,--which she +tried to keep quiet, but it was too plain that she enjoyed my diatribe. + +It must be remembered that I and the other Teacups, in common with the +rest of our fellow-citizens, have had our sensibilities greatly worked +upon, our patriotism chilled, our local pride outraged, by the +monstrosities which have been allowed to deform our beautiful public +grounds. We have to be very careful in conducting a visitor, say from +his marble-fronted hotel to the City Hall.--Keep pretty straight along +after entering the Garden,--you will not care to inspect the little +figure of the military gentleman to your right.--Yes, the Cochituate +water is drinkable, but I think I would not turn aside to visit that +small fabric which makes believe it is a temple, and is a weak-eyed +fountain feebly weeping over its own insignificance. About that other +stone misfortune, cruelly reminding us of the "Boston Massacre," we will +not discourse; it is not imposing, and is rarely spoken of. + +What a mortification to the inhabitants of a city with some hereditary +and contemporary claims to cultivation; which has noble edifices, grand +libraries, educational institutions of the highest grade, an art-gallery +filled with the finest models and rich in paintings and statuary,--a +stately city that stretches both arms across the Charles to clasp the +hands of Harvard, her twin-sister, each lending lustre to the other like +double stars,--what a pity that she should be so disfigured by crude +attempts to adorn her and commemorate her past that her most loving +children blush for her artificial deformities amidst the wealth of her +natural beauties! One hardly knows which to groan over most sadly,--the +tearing down of old monuments, the shelling of the Parthenon, the +overthrow of the pillared temples of Rome, and in a humbler way the +destruction of the old Hancock house, or the erection of monuments which +are to be a perpetual eyesore to ourselves and our descendants. + +We got talking on the subject of realism, of which so much has been said +of late. + +It seems to me, I said, that the great additions which have been made by +realism to the territory of literature consist largely in swampy, +malarious, ill-smelling patches of soil which had previously been left to +reptiles and vermin. It is perfectly easy to be original by violating +the laws of decency and the canons of good taste. The general consent of +civilized people was supposed to have banished certain subjects from the +conversation of well-bred people and the pages of respectable literature. +There is no subject, or hardly any, which may not be treated of at the +proper time, in the proper place, by the fitting person, for the right +kind of listener or reader. But when the poet or the story-teller +invades the province of the man of science, he is on dangerous ground. I +need say nothing of the blunders he is pretty sure to make. The +imaginative writer is after effects. The scientific man is after truth. +Science is decent, modest; does not try to startle, but to instruct. The +same scenes and objects which outrage every sense of delicacy in the +story teller's highly colored paragraphs can be read without giving +offence in the chaste language of the physiologist or the physician. + +There is a very celebrated novel, "Madame Bovary," the work of M. +Flaubert, which is noted for having been the subject of prosecution as an +immoral work. That it has a serious lesson there is no doubt, if one +will drink down to the bottom of the cup. But the honey of sensuous +description is spread so deeply over the surface of the goblet that a +large proportion of its readers never think of its holding anything else. +All the phases of unhallowed passion are described in full detail. That +is what the book is bought and read for, by the great majority of its +purchasers, as all but simpletons very well know. That is what makes it +sell and brought it into the courts of justice. This book is famous for +its realism; in fact, it is recognized as one of the earliest and most +brilliant examples of that modern style of novel which, beginning where +Balzac left off, attempted to do for literature what the photograph has +done for art. For those who take the trouble to drink out of the cup +below the rim of honey, there is a scene where realism is carried to its +extreme,--surpassed in horror by no writer, unless it be the one whose +name must be looked for at the bottom of the alphabet, as if its natural +place were as low down in the dregs of realism as it could find itself. +This is the death-bed scene, where Madame Bovary expires in convulsions. +The author must have visited the hospitals for the purpose of watching +the terrible agonies he was to depict, tramping from one bed to another +until he reached the one where the cries and contortions were the most +frightful. Such a scene he has reproduced. No hospital physician would +have pictured the straggle in such colors. In the same way, that other +realist, M. Zola, has painted a patient suffering from delirium tremens, +the disease known to common speech as "the horrors." In describing this +case he does all that language can do to make it more horrible than the +reality. He gives us, not realism, but super-realism, if such a term +does not contradict itself. + +In this matter of the literal reproduction of sights and scenes which our +natural instinct and our better informed taste and judgment teach us to +avoid, art has been far in advance of literature. It is three hundred +years since Joseph Ribera, more commonly known as Spagnoletto, was born +in the province Valencia, in Spain. We had the misfortune of seeing a +painting of his in a collection belonging to one of the French princes, +and exhibited at the Art Museum. It was that of a man performing upon +himself the operation known to the Japanese as hararkiri. Many persons +who looked upon this revolting picture will never get rid of its +remembrance, and will regret the day when their eyes fell upon it. I +should share the offence of the painter if I ventured to describe it. +Ribera was fond of depicting just such odious and frightful subjects. +"Saint Lawrence writhing on his gridiron, Saint Sebastian full of arrows, +were equally a source of delight to him. Even in subjects which had no +such elements of horror he finds the materials for the delectation of his +ferocious pencil; he makes up for the defect by rendering with a brutal +realism deformity and ugliness." + +The first great mistake made by the ultra-realists; like Flaubert and +Zola, is, as I have said, their ignoring the line of distinction between +imaginative art and science. We can find realism enough in books of +anatomy, surgery, and medicine. In studying the human figure, we want to +see it clothed with its natural integuments. It is well for the artist +to study the ecorche in the dissecting-room, but we do not want the +Apollo or the Venus to leave their skins behind them when they go into +the gallery for exhibition. Lancisi's figures show us how the great +statues look when divested of their natural covering. It is instructive, +but useful chiefly as a means to aid in the true artistic reproduction of +nature. When the, hospitals are invaded by the novelist, he should learn +something from the physician as well as from the patients. Science +delineates in monochrome. She never uses high tints and strontian lights +to astonish lookers-on. Such scenes as Flaubert and Zola describe would +be reproduced in their essential characters, but not dressed up in +picturesque phrases. That is the first stumbling-block in the way of the +reader of such realistic stories as those to which I have referred. +There are subjects which must be investigated by scientific men which +most educated persons would be glad to know nothing about. When a +realistic writer like Zola surprises his reader into a kind of knowledge +he never thought of wishing for, he sometimes harms him more than he has +any idea of doing. He wants to produce a sensation, and he leaves a +permanent disgust not to be got rid of. Who does not remember odious +images that can never be washed out from the consciousness which they +have stained? A man's vocabulary is terribly retentive of evil words, +and the images they present cling to his memory and will not loose their +hold. One who has had the mischance to soil his mind by reading certain +poems of Swift will never cleanse it to its original whiteness. +Expressions and thoughts of a certain character stain the fibre of the +thinking organ, and in some degree affect the hue of every idea that +passes through the discolored tissues. + +This is the gravest accusation to bring against realism, old or recent, +whether in the brutal paintings of Spagnoletto or in the unclean +revelations of Zola. Leave the description of the drains and cesspools +to the hygienic specialist, the painful facts of disease to the +physician, the details of the laundry to the washerwoman. If we are to +have realism in its tedious descriptions of unimportant particulars, let +it be of particulars which do not excite disgust. Such is the description +of the vegetables in Zola's "Ventre de Paris," where, if one wishes to +see the apotheosis of turnips, beets, and cabbages, he can find them +glorified as supremely as if they had been symbols of so many deities; +their forms, their colors, their expression, worked upon until they seem +as if they were made to be looked at and worshipped rather than to be +boiled and eaten. + +I am pleased to find a French critic of M. Flaubert expressing ideas with +which many of my own entirely coincide. "The great mistake of the +realists," he says, "is that they profess to tell the truth because they +tell everything. This puerile hunting after details, this cold and +cynical inventory of all the wretched conditions in the midst of which +poor humanity vegetates, not only do not help us to understand it better, +but, on the contrary, the effect on the spectators is a kind of dazzled +confusion mingled with fatigue and disgust. The material truthfulness to +which the school of M. Flaubert more especially pretends misses its aim +in going beyond it. Truth is lost in its own excess." + +I return to my thoughts on the relations of imaginative art in all its +forms with science. The subject which in the hands of the scientific +student is handled decorously,--reverently, we might almost say,--becomes +repulsive, shameful, and debasing in the unscrupulous manipulations of +the low-bred man of letters. + +I confess that I am a little jealous of certain tendencies in our own +American literature, which led one of the severest and most outspoken of +our satirical fellow-countrymen, no longer living to be called to account +for it, to say; in a moment of bitterness, that the mission of America +was to vulgarize mankind. I myself have sometimes wondered at the +pleasure some Old World critics have professed to find in the most +lawless freaks of New World literature. I have questioned whether their +delight was not like that of the Spartans in the drunken antics of their +Helots. But I suppose I belong to another age, and must not attempt to +judge the present by my old-fashioned standards. + +The company listened very civilly to these remarks, whether they agreed +with them or not. I am not sure that I want all the young people to +think just as I do in matters of critical judgment. New wine does not go +well into old bottles, but if an old cask has held good wine, it may +improve a crude juice to stand awhile upon the lees of that which once +filled it. + +I thought the company had had about enough of this disquisition. They +listened very decorously, and the Professor, who agrees very well with +me, as I happen to know, in my views on this business of realism, thanked +me for giving them the benefit of my opinion. + +The silence that followed was broken by Number Seven's suddenly +exclaiming,-- + +"I should like to boss creation for a week!" + +This expression was an outbreak suggested by some train of thought which +Number Seven had been following while I was discoursing. I do not think +one of the company looked as if he or she were shocked by it as an +irreligious or even profane speech. It is a better way always, in +dealing with one of those squinting brains, to let it follow out its own +thought. It will keep to it for a while; then it will quit the rail, so +to speak, and run to any side-track which may present itself. + +"What is the first thing you would do?" asked Number Five in a pleasant, +easy way. + +"The first thing? Pick out a few thousand of the best specimens of the +best races, and drown the rest like so many blind puppies." + +"Why," said she, "that was tried once, and does not seem to have worked +very well." + +"Very likely. You mean Noah's flood, I suppose. More people nowadays, +and a better lot to pick from than Noah had." + +"Do tell us whom you would take with you," said Number Five. + +"You, if you would go," he answered, and I thought I saw a slight flush +on his cheek. "But I didn't say that I should go aboard the new ark +myself. I am not sure that I should. No, I am pretty sure that I +shouldn't. I don't believe, on the whole, it would pay me to save +myself. I ain't of much account. But I could pick out some that were." + +And just now he was saying that he should like to boss the universe! All +this has nothing very wonderful about it. Every one of us is subject to +alternations of overvaluation and undervaluation of ourselves. Do you +not remember soliloquies something like this? "Was there ever such a +senseless, stupid creature as I am? How have I managed to keep so long +out of the idiot asylum? Undertook to write a poem, and stuck fast at +the first verse. Had a call from a friend who had just been round the +world. Did n't ask him one word about what he had seen or heard, but +gave him full details of my private history, I having never been off my +own hearth-rug for more than an hour or two at a time, while he was +circumnavigating and circumrailroading the globe. Yes, if anybody can +claim the title, I am certainly the prize idiot." I am afraid that we +all say such things as this to ourselves at times. Do we not use more +emphatic words than these in our self-depreciation? I cannot say how it +is with others, but my vocabulary of self-reproach and humiliation is so +rich in energetic expressions that I should be sorry to have an +interviewer present at an outburst of one of its raging geysers, its +savage soliloquies. A man is a kind of inverted thermometer, the bulb +uppermost, and the column of self-valuation is all the time going up and +down. Number Seven is very much like other people in this respect,--very +much like you and me. + +This train of reflections must not carry me away from Number Seven. + +"If I can't get a chance to boss this planet for a week or so," he began +again, "I think I could write its history,--yes, the history of the +world, in less compass than any one who has tried it so far." + +"You know Sir Walter Raleigh's 'History of the World,' of course?" said +the Professor. + +"More or less,--more or less," said Number Seven prudently. "But I don't +care who has written it before me. I will agree to write the story of +two worlds, this and the next, in such a compact way that you can commit +them both to memory in less time than you can learn the answer to the +first question in the Catechism." + +What he had got into his head we could not guess, but there was no little +curiosity to discover the particular bee which was buzzing in his bonnet. +He evidently enjoyed our curiosity, and meant to keep us waiting awhile +before revealing the great secret. + +"How many words do you think I shall want?" + +It is a formula, I suppose, I said, and I will grant you a hundred words. + +"Twenty," said the Professor. "That was more than the wise men of Greece +wanted for their grand utterances." + +The two Annexes whispered together, and the American Annex gave their +joint result. One thousand was the number they had fixed on. They were +used to hearing lectures, and could hardly conceive that any subject +could be treated without taking up a good part of an hour. + +"Less than ten," said Number Five. "If there are to be more than ten, I +don't believe that Number Seven would think the surprise would be up to +our expectations." + +"Guess as much as you like," said Number Seven. + +"The answer will keep. I don't mean to say what it is until we are ready +to leave the table." He took a blank card from his pocket-book, wrote +something on it, or appeared, at any rate, to write, and handed it, face +down, to the Mistress. What was on the card will be found near the end +of this paper. I wonder if anybody will be curious enough to look +further along to find out what it was before she reads the next +paragraph? + +In the mean time there is a train of thought suggested by Number Seven +and his whims. If you want to know how to account for yourself, study +the characters of your relations. All of our brains squint more or less. +There is not one in a hundred, certainly, that does not sometimes see +things distorted by double refraction, out of plumb or out of focus, or +with colors which do not belong to it, or in some way betraying that the +two halves of the brain are not acting in harmony with each other. You +wonder at the eccentricities of this or that connection of your own. +Watch yourself, and you will find impulses which, but for the restraints +you put upon them, would make you do the same foolish things which you +laugh at in that cousin of yours. I once lived in the same house with +the near relative of a very distinguished person, whose name is still +honored and revered among us. His brain was an active one, like that of +his famous relative, but it was full of random ideas, unconnected trains +of thought, whims, crotchets, erratic suggestions. Knowing him, I could +interpret the mental characteristics of the whole family connection in +the light of its exaggerated peculiarities as exhibited in my odd +fellow-boarder. Squinting brains are a great deal more common than we +should at first sight believe. Here is a great book, a solid octavo of +five hundred pages, full of the vagaries of this class of organizations. +I hope to refer to this work hereafter, but just now I will only say +that, after reading till one is tired the strange fancies of the squarers +of the circle, the inventors of perpetual motion, and the rest of the +moonstruck dreamers, most persons will confess to themselves that they +have had notions as wild, conceptions as extravagant, theories as +baseless, as the least rational of those which are here recorded. + +Some day I want to talk about my library. It is such a curious +collection of old and new books, such a mosaic of learning and fancies +and follies, that a glance over it would interest the company. Perhaps I +may hereafter give you a talk abut books, but while I am saying a few +passing words upon the subject the greatest bibliographical event that +ever happened in the book-market of the New World is taking place under +our eyes. Here is Mr. Bernard Quaritch just come from his well-known +habitat, No. 15 Piccadilly, with such a collection of rare, beautiful, +and somewhat expensive volumes as the Western Continent never saw before +on the shelves of a bibliopole. + +We bookworms are all of us now and then betrayed into an extravagance. +The keen tradesmen who tempt us are like the fishermen who dangle a +minnow, a frog, or a worm before the perch or pickerel who may be on the +lookout for his breakfast. But Mr. Quaritch comes among us like that +formidable angler of whom it is said, + + His hook he baited with a dragon's tail, + And sat upon a rock and bobbed for whale. + +The two catalogues which herald his coming are themselves interesting +literary documents. One can go out with a few shillings in his pocket, +and venture among the books of the first of these catalogues without +being ashamed to show himself with no larger furnishing of the means for +indulging his tastes,--he will find books enough at comparatively modest +prices. But if one feels very rich, so rich that it requires a good deal +to frighten him, let him take the other catalogue and see how many books +he proposes to add to his library at the prices affixed. Here is a Latin +Psalter with the Canticles, from the press of Fust and Schoeffer, the +second book issued from their press, the second book printed with a date, +that date being 1459. There are only eight copies of this work known to +exist; you can have one of them, if so disposed, and if you have change +enough in your pocket. Twenty-six thousand two hundred and fifty dollars +will make you the happy owner of this precious volume. If this is more +than you want to pay, you can have the Gold Gospels of Henry VIII., on +purple vellum, for about half the money. There are pages on pages of +titles of works any one of which would be a snug little property if +turned into money at its catalogue price. + +Why will not our multimillionaires look over this catalogue of Mr. +Quaritch, and detain some of its treasures on this side of the Atlantic +for some of our public libraries? We decant the choicest wines of Europe +into our cellars; we ought to be always decanting the precious treasures +of her libraries and galleries into our own, as we have opportunity and +means. As to the means, there are so many rich people who hardly know +what to do with their money that it is well to suggest to them any new +useful end to which their superfluity may contribute. I am not in +alliance with Mr. Quaritch; in fact, I am afraid of him, for if I stayed +a single hour in his library, where I never was but once, and then for +fifteen minutes only, I should leave it so much poorer than I entered it +that I should be reminded of the picture in the titlepage of Fuller's +'Historie of the Holy Warre,' "We went out full. We returned empty." + +--After the teacups were all emptied, the card containing Number Seven's +abridged history of two worlds, this and the next, was handed round. + +This was all it held: + +After all had looked at it, it was passed back to me. "Let The Dictator +interpret it," they all said. + +This is what I announced as my interpretation: + +Two worlds, the higher and the lower, separated by the thinnest of +partitions. The lower world is that of questions; the upper world is +that of answers. Endless doubt and unrest here below; wondering, +admiring, adoring certainty above.--Am I not right? + +"You are right," answered Number Seven solemnly. "That is my +revelation." + +The following poem was found in the sugar-bowl. + +I read it to the company. There was much whispering and there were many +conjectures as to its authorship, but every Teacup looked innocent, and +we separated each with his or her private conviction. I had mine, but I +will not mention it. + + THE ROSE AND THE FERN. + + Lady, life's sweetest lesson wouldst thou learn, + Come thou with me to Love's enchanted bower: + High overhead the trellised roses burn; + Beneath thy feet behold the feathery fern, + A leaf without a flower. + + What though the rose leaves fall? They still are sweet, + And have been lovely in their beauteous prime, + While the bare frond seems ever to repeat, + "For us no bud, no blossom, wakes to greet + The joyous flowering time!" + + Heed thou the lesson. Life has leaves to tread + And flowers to cherish; summer round thee glows; + Wait not till autumn's fading robes are shed, + But while its petals still are burning red + Gather life's full-blown rose! + + + + +VI + +Of course the reading of the poem at the end of the last paper has left a +deep impression. I strongly suspect that something very much like +love-making is going on at our table. A peep under the lid of the +sugar-bowl has shown me that there is another poem ready for the company. +That receptacle is looked upon with an almost tremulous excitement by +more than one of The Teacups. The two Annexes turn towards the mystic +urn as if the lots which were to determine their destiny were shut up in +it. Number Five, quieter, and not betraying more curiosity than belongs +to the sex at all ages, glances at the sugarbowl now and then; looking so +like a clairvoyant, that sometimes I cannot help thinking she must be +one. There is a sly look about that young Doctor's eyes, which might +imply that he knows something about what the silver vessel holds, or is +going to hold. The Tutor naturally falls under suspicion, as he is known +to have written and published poems. I suppose the Professor and myself +have hardly been suspected of writing love-poems; but there is no +telling,--there is no telling. Why may not some one of the lady Teacups +have played the part of a masculine lover? George Sand, George Eliot, +Charles Egbert Craddock, made pretty good men in print. The authoress of +"Jane Eyre" was taken for a man by many persons. Can Number Five be +masquerading in verse? Or is one of the two Annexes the make believe +lover? Or did these girls lay their heads together, and send the poem we +had at our last sitting to puzzle the company? It is certain that the +Mistress did not write the poem. It is evident that Number Seven, who is +so severe in his talk about rhymesters, would not, if he could, make such +a fool of himself as to set up for a "poet." Why should not the +Counsellor fall in love and write verses? A good many lawyers have been +"poets." + +Perhaps the next poem, which may be looked for in its proper place, may +help us to form a judgment. We may have several verse-writers among us, +and if so there will be a good opportunity for the exercise of judgment +in distributing their productions among the legitimate claimants. In the +mean time, we must not let the love-making and the song-writing interfere +with the more serious matters which these papers are expected to contain. + +Number Seven's compendious and comprehensive symbolism proved suggestive, +as his whimsical notions often do. It always pleases me to take some +hint from anything he says when I can, and carry it out in a direction +not unlike that of his own remark. I reminded the company of his +enigmatical symbol. + +You can divide mankind in the same way, I said. Two words, each of two +letters, will serve to distinguish two classes of human beings who +constitute the principal divisions of mankind. Can any of you tell what +those two words are? + +"Give me five letters," cried Number Seven, "and I can solve your +problem! F-o-o-l-s,--those five letters will give you the first and +largest half. For the other fraction"-- + +Oh, but, said I, I restrict you absolutely to two letters. If you are +going to take five, you may as well take twenty or a hundred. + +After a few attempts, the company gave it up. The nearest approach to +the correct answer was Number Five's guess of Oh and Ah: Oh signifying +eternal striving after an ideal, which belongs to one kind of nature; and +Ah the satisfaction of the other kind of nature, which rests at ease in +what it has attained. + +Good! I said to Number Five, but not the answer I am after. The great +division between human beings is into the Ifs and the Ases. + +"Is the last word to be spelt with one or two s's?" asked the young +Doctor. + +The company laughed feebly at this question. I answered it soberly. With +one s. There are more foolish people among the Ifs than there are among +the Ases. + +The company looked puzzled, and asked for an explanation. + +This is the meaning of those two words as I interpret them: If it +were,--if it might be,--if it could be,--if it had been. One portion of +mankind go through life always regretting, always whining, always +imagining. These are the people whose backbones remain cartilaginous all +their lives long, as do those of certain other vertebrate animals,--the +sturgeons, for instance. A good many poets must be classed with this +group of vertebrates. + +As it is,--this is the way in which the other class of people look at the +conditions in which they find themselves. They may be optimists or +pessimists, they are very largely optimists,--but, taking things just as +they find them, they adjust the facts to their wishes if they can; and if +they cannot, then they adjust themselves to the facts. I venture to say +that if one should count the Ifs and the Ases in the conversation of his +acquaintances, he would find the more able and important persons among +them--statesmen, generals, men of business--among the Ases, and the +majority of the conspicuous failures among the Ifs. I don't know but +this would be as good a test as that of Gideon,--lapping the water or +taking it up in the hand. I have a poetical friend whose conversation is +starred as thick with ifs as a boiled ham is with cloves. But another +friend of mine, a business man, whom I trust in making my investments, +would not let me meddle with a certain stock which I fancied, because, as +he said, "there are too many ifs in it. As it looks now, I would n't +touch it." + +I noticed, the other evening, that some private conversation was going on +between the Counsellor and the two Annexes. There was a mischievous look +about the little group, and I thought they were hatching some plot among +them. I did not hear what the English Annex said, but the American +girl's voice was sharper, and I overheard what sounded to me like, "It is +time to stir up that young Doctor." The Counsellor looked very knowing, +and said that he would find a chance before long. I was rather amused to +see how readily he entered into the project of the young people. The +fact is, the Counsellor is young for his time of life; for he already +betrays some signs of the change referred to in that once familiar street +song, which my friend, the great American surgeon, inquired for at the +music-shops under the title, as he got it from the Italian minstrel, + + "Silva tredi mondi goo." + +I saw, soon after this, that the Counsellor was watching his chance to +"stir up the young Doctor." + +It does not follow, because our young Doctor's bald spot is slower in +coming than he could have wished, that he has not had time to form many +sound conclusions in the calling to which he has devoted himself +Vesalius, the father of modern descriptive anatomy, published his great +work on that subject before he was thirty. Bichat, the great anatomist +and physiologist, who died near the beginning of this century, published +his treatise, which made a revolution in anatomy and pathology, at about +the same age; dying soon after he had reached the age of thirty. So, +possibly the Counsellor may find that he has "stirred up" a young man +who, can take care of his own head, in case of aggressive movements in +its direction. + +"Well, Doctor," the Counsellor began, "how are stocks in the measles +market about these times? Any corner in bronchitis? Any syndicate in +the vaccination business?" All this playfully. + +"I can't say how it is with other people's patients; most of my families +are doing very well without my help, at this time." + +"Do tell me, Doctor, how many families you own. I have heard it said +that some of our fellow-citizens have two distinct families, but you +speak as if you had a dozen." + +"I have, but not so large a number as I should like. I could take care +of fifteen or twenty more without: having to work too hard." + +"Why, Doctor, you are as bad as a Mormon. What do you mean by calling +certain families yours?" + +"Don't you speak about my client? Don't your clients call you their +lawyer? Does n't your baker, does n't your butcher, speak of the +families he supplies as his families?" + +To be sure, yes, of course they do; but I had a notion that a man had as +many doctors as he had organs to be doctored." + +"Well, there is some truth in that; but did you think the old-fashioned +family doctor was extinct, a fossil like the megatherium?" + +"Why, yes, after the recent experience of a friend of mine, I did begin +to think that there would soon be no such personage left as that same +old-fashioned family doctor. Shall I tell you what that experience was?" + +The young Doctor said he should be mightily pleased to hear it. He was +going to be one of those old-fogy practitioners himself. + +"I don't know," the Counsellor said, "whether my friend got all the +professional terms of his story correctly, nor whether I have got them +from him without making any mistakes; but if I do make blunders in some +of the queer names, you can correct me. This is my friend's story: + +"My family doctor," he said, "was a very sensible man, educated at a +school where they professed to teach all the specialties, but not +confining himself to any one branch of medical practice. Surgical +practice he did not profess to meddle with, and there were some classes +of patients whom he was willing to leave to the female physician. But +throughout the range of diseases not requiring exceptionally skilled +manual interference, his education had authorized him to consider +himself, and he did consider himself, qualified to undertake the +treatment of all ordinary cases--It so happened that my young wife was +one of those uneasy persons who are never long contented with their +habitual comforts and blessings, but always trying to find something a +little better, something newer, at any rate. I was getting to be near +fifty years old, and it happened to me, as it not rarely does to people +at about that time of life, that my hair began to fall out. I spoke of +it to my doctor, who smiled, said it was a part of the process of +reversed evolution, but might be retarded a little, and gave me a +prescription. I did not find any great effect from it, and my wife would +have me go to a noted dermatologist. The distinguished specialist +examined my denuded scalp with great care. He looked at it through a +strong magnifier. He examined the bulb of a fallen hair in a powerful +microscope. He deliberated for a while, and then said, "This is a case +of alopecia. It may perhaps be partially remedied. I will give you a +prescription." Which he did, and told me to call again in a fortnight. +At the end of three months I had called six times, and each time got a +new recipe, and detected no difference in the course of my "alopecia." +After I had got through my treatment, I showed my recipes to my family +physician; and we found that three of them were the same he had used, +familiar, old-fashioned remedies, and the others were taken from a list +of new and little-tried prescriptions mentioned in one of the last +medical journals, which was lying on the old doctor's table. I might as +well have got no better under his charge, and should have got off much +cheaper. + +"The next trouble I had was a little redness of the eyes, for which my +doctor gave me a wash; but my wife would have it that I must see an +oculist. So I made four visits to an oculist, and at the last visit the +redness was nearly gone,--as it ought to have been by that time. The +specialist called my complaint conjunctivitis, but that did not make it +feel any better nor get well any quicker. If I had had a cataract or any +grave disease of the eye, requiring a nice operation on that delicate +organ, of course I should have properly sought the aid of an expert, +whose eye, hand, and judgment were trained to that special business; but +in this case I don't doubt that my family doctor would have done just as +well as the expert. However, I had to obey orders, and my wife would have +it that I should entrust my precious person only to the most skilful +specialist in each department of medical practice. + +"In the course of the year I experienced a variety of slight +indispositions. For these I was auriscoped by an aurist, laryngoscoped +by a laryngologist, ausculted by a stethoscopist, and so on, until a +complete inventory of my organs was made out, and I found that if I +believed all these searching inquirers professed to have detected in my +unfortunate person, I could repeat with too literal truth the words of +the General Confession, "And there is no health in us." I never heard so +many hard names in all my life. I proved to be the subject of a long +catalogue of diseases, and what maladies I was not manifestly guilty of I +was at least suspected of harboring. I was handed along all the way from +alopecia, which used to be called baldness, to zoster, which used to be +known as shingles. I was the patient of more than a dozen specialists. +Very pleasant persons, many of them, but what a fuss they made about my +trifling incommodities! 'Please look at that photograph. See if there is +a minute elevation under one eye.' + +"'On which side?' I asked him, for I could not be sure there was anything +different on one side from what I saw on the other. + +"'Under the left eye. I called it a pimple; the specialist called it +acne. Now look at this photograph. It was taken after my acne had been +three months under treatment. It shows a little more distinctly than in +the first photograph, does n't it?' + +"'I think it does,' I answered. 'It does n't seem to me that you gained +a great deal by leaving your customary adviser for the specialist.' + +"'Well,' my friend continued, 'following my wife's urgent counsel, I kept +on, as I told you, for a whole year with my specialists, going from head +to foot, and tapering off with a chiropodist. I got a deal of amusement +out of their contrivances and experiments. Some of them lighted up my +internal surfaces with electrical or other illuminating apparatus. +Thermometers, dynamometers, exploring-tubes, little mirrors that went +half-way down to my stomach, tuning-forks, ophthalmoscopes, +percussion-hammers, single and double stethoscopes, speculums, +sphygmometers,--such a battery of detective instruments I had never +imagined. All useful, I don't doubt; but at the end of the year I began +to question whether I should n't have done about as well to stick to my +long tried practitioner. When the bills for "professional services" came +in, and the new carpet had to be given up, and the old bonnet trimmed +over again, and the sealskin sack remained a vision, we both agreed, my +wife and I, that we would try to get along without consulting +specialists, except in such cases as our family physician considered to +be beyond his skill.'" + +The Counsellor's story of his friend's experiences seemed to please the +young Doctor very much. It "stirred him up," but in an agreeable way; +for, as he said, he meant to devote himself to family practice, and not +to adopt any limited class of cases as a specialty. I liked his views so +well that I should have been ready to adopt them as my own, if they had +been challenged. + + The young Doctor discourses. + +"I am very glad," he said, "that we have a number of practitioners among +us who confine themselves to the care of single organs and their +functions. I want to be able to consult an oculist who has done nothing +but attend to eyes long enough to know all that is known about their +diseases and their treatment,--skilful enough to be trusted with the +manipulation of that delicate and most precious organ. I want an aurist +who knows all about the ear and what can be done for its disorders. The +maladies of the larynx are very ticklish things to handle, and nobody +should be trusted to go behind the epiglottis who has not the tactus +eruditus. And so of certain other particular classes of complaints. A +great city must have a limited number of experts, each a final authority, +to be appealed to in cases where the family physician finds himself in +doubt. There are operations which no surgeon should be willing to +undertake unless he has paid a particular, if not an exclusive, attention +to the cases demanding such operations. All this I willingly grant. + +"But it must not be supposed that we can return to the methods of the old +Egyptians--who, if my memory serves me correctly, had a special physician +for every part of the body--without falling into certain errors and +incurring certain liabilities. + +"The specialist is much like other people engaged in lucrative business. +He is apt to magnify his calling, to make much of any symptom which will +bring a patient within range of his battery of remedies. I found a case +in one of our medical journals, a couple of years ago, which illustrates +what I mean. Dr. ___________ of Philadelphia, had a female patient with +a crooked nose,--deviated septum, if our young scholars like that better. +She was suffering from what the doctor called reflex headache. She had +been to an oculist, who found that the trouble was in her eyes. She went +from him to a gynecologist, who considered her headache as owing to +causes for which his specialty had the remedies. How many more +specialists would have appropriated her, if she had gone the rounds of +them all, I dare not guess; but you remember the old story of the siege, +in which each artisan proposed means of defence which he himself was +ready to furnish. Then a shoemaker said, 'Hang your walls with new +boots.' + +"Human nature is the same with medical specialists as it was with ancient +cordwainers, and it is too possible that a hungry practitioner may be +warped by his interest in fastening on a patient who, as he persuades +himself, comes under his medical jurisdiction. The specialist has but one +fang with which to seize and bold his prey, but that fang is a fearfully +long and sharp canine. Being confined to a narrow field of observation +and practice, he is apt to give much of his time to curious study, which +may be magnifique, but is not exactly la guerre against the patient's +malady. He divides and subdivides, and gets many varieties of diseases, +in most respects similar. These he equips with new names, and thus we +have those terrific nomenclatures which are enough to frighten the +medical student, to say nothing of the sufferers staggering under this +long catalogue of local infirmities. The 'old-fogy' doctor, who knows +the family tendencies of his patient, who 'understands his constitution,' +will often treat him better than the famous specialist, who sees him for +the first time, and has to guess at many things 'the old doctor' knows +from his previous experience with the same patient and the family to +which he belongs. + +"It is a great luxury to practise as a specialist in almost any class of +diseases. The special practitioner has his own hours, hardly needs a +night-bell, can have his residence out of the town in which he exercises +his calling, in short, lives like a gentleman; while the hard-worked +general practitioner submits to a servitude more exacting than that of +the man who is employed in his stable or in his kitchen. That is the kind +of life I have made up my mind to." + +The teaspoons tinkled all round the table. This was the usual sign of +approbation, instead of the clapping of hands. + +The young Doctor paused, and looked round among The Teacups. "I beg your +pardon," he said, "for taking up so much of your time with medicine. It +is a subject that a good many persons, especially ladies, take an +interest in and have a curiosity about, but I have no right to turn this +tea-table into a lecture platform." + +"We should like to hear you talk longer about it," said the English +Annex. "One of us has thought of devoting herself to the practice of +medicine. Would you lecture to us; if you were a professor in one of the +great medical schools?" + +"Lecture to students of your sex? Why not, I should like to know? I +don't think it is the calling for which the average woman is especially +adapted, but my teacher got a part of his medical education from a lady, +Madame Lachapelle; and I don't see why, if one can learn from a woman, he +may not teach a woman, if he knows enough." + +"We all like a little medical talk now and then," said Number Five, "and +we are much obliged to you for your discourse. You are specialist enough +to take care of a sprained ankle, I suppose, are you not?" + +"I hope I should be equal to that emergency," answered the young Doctor; +"but I trust you are not suffering from any such accident?" + +"No," said Number Five, "but there is no telling what may happen. I +might slip, and get a sprain or break a sinew, or something, and I should +like to know that there is a practitioner at hand to take care of my +injury. I think I would risk myself in your bands, although you are not +a specialist. Would you venture to take charge of the case?" + +"Ah, my dear lady," he answered gallantly, "the risk would be in the +other direction. I am afraid it would be safer for your doctor if he +were an older man than I am." + +This is the first clearly, indisputably sentimental outbreak which has +happened in conversation at our table. I tremble to think what will come +of it; for we have several inflammable elements in our circle, and a +spark like this is liable to light on any one or two of them. + +I was not sorry that this medical episode came in to vary the usual +course of talk at our table. I like to have one--of an intelligent +company, who knows anything thoroughly, hold the floor for a time, and +discourse upon the subject which chiefly engages his daily thoughts and +furnishes his habitual occupation. It is a privilege to meet such a +person now and then, and let him have his full swing. But because there +are "professionals" to whom we are willing to listen as oracles, I do not +want to see everybody who is not a "professional" silenced or snubbed, if +he ventures into any field of knowledge which he has not made especially +his own. I like to read Montaigne's remarks about doctors, though he +never took a medical degree. I can even enjoy the truth in the sharp +satire of Voltaire on the medical profession. I frequently prefer the +remarks I hear from the pew after the sermon to those I have just been +hearing from the pulpit. There are a great many things which I never +expect to comprehend, but which I desire very much to apprehend. Suppose +that our circle of Teacups were made up of specialists,--experts in +various departments. I should be very willing that each one should have +his innings at the proper time, when the company were ready for him. But +the time is coming when everybody will know something about every thing. +How can one have the illustrated magazines, the "Popular Science +Monthly," the Psychological journals, the theological periodicals, books +on all subjects, forced on his attention, in their own persons, so to +speak, or in the reviews which analyze and pass judgment upon them, +without getting some ideas which belong to many provinces of human +intelligence? The air we breathe is made up of four elements, at least: +oxygen, nitrogen, carbonic acid gas, and knowledge. There is something +quite delightful to witness in the absorption and devotion of a genuine +specialist. There is a certain sublimity in that picture of the dying +scholar in Browning's "A Grammarian's Funeral:"-- + + "So with the throttling hands of death at strife, + Ground he at grammar; + Still, through the rattle, parts of speech were rife; + While he could stammer + He settled Hoti's business--let it be-- + Properly based Oun + Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De, + Dead from the waist down." + +A genuine enthusiasm, which will never be satisfied until it has pumped +the well dry at the bottom of which truth is lying, always excites our +interest, if not our admiration. + +One of the pleasantest of our American writers, whom we all remember as +Ik Marvel, and greet in his more recent appearance as Donald Grant +Mitchell, speaks of the awkwardness which he feels in offering to the +public a "panoramic view of British writers in these days of +specialists,--when students devote half a lifetime to the analysis of the +works of a single author, and to the proper study of a single period." + +He need not have feared that his connected sketches of "English Lands, +Letters and Kings" would be any less welcome because they do not pretend +to fill up all the details or cover all the incidents they hint in vivid +outline. How many of us ever read or ever will read Drayton's +"Poly-Olbion?" Twenty thousand long Alexandrines are filled with +admirable descriptions of scenery, natural productions, and historical +events, but how many of us in these days have time to read and inwardly +digest twenty thousand Alexandrine verses? I fear that the specialist is +apt to hold his intelligent reader or hearer too cheap. So far as I have +observed in medical specialties, what he knows in addition to the +knowledge of the well-taught general practitioner is very largely curious +rather than important. Having exhausted all that is practical, the +specialist is naturally tempted to amuse himself with the natural history +of the organ or function he deals with; to feel as a writing-master does +when he sets a copy,--not content to shape the letters properly, but he +must add flourishes and fancy figures, to let off his spare energy. + +I am beginning to be frightened. When I began these papers, my idea was +a very simple and innocent one. Here was a mixed company, of various +conditions, as I have already told my readers, who came together +regularly, and before they were aware of it formed something like a club +or association. As I was the patriarch among them, they gave me the name +some of you may need to be reminded of; for as these reports are +published at intervals, you may not remember the fact that I am what The +Teacups have seen fit to call The Dictator. + +Now, what did I expect when I began these papers, and what is it that has +begun to frighten me? + +I expected to report grave conversations and light colloquial passages of +arms among the members of the circle. I expected to hear, perhaps to +read, a paper now and then. I expected to have, from time to time, a +poem from some one of The Teacups, for I felt sure there must be among +them one or more poets,--Teacups of the finer and rarer translucent kind +of porcelain, to speak metaphorically. + +Out of these conversations and written contributions I thought I might +make up a readable series of papers; a not wholly unwelcome string of +recollections, anticipations, suggestions, too often perhaps repetitions, +that would be to the twilight what my earlier series had been to the +morning. + +I hoped also that I should come into personal relations with my old +constituency, if I may call my nearer friends, and those more distant +ones who belong to my reading parish, by that name. It is time that I +should. I received this blessed morning--I am telling the literal +truth--a highly flattering obituary of myself in the shape of an extract +from "Le National" of the 10th of February last. This is a bi-weekly +newspaper, published in French, in the city of Plattsburg, Clinton +County, New York. I am occasionally reminded by my unknown friends that +I must hurry up their autograph, or make haste to copy that poem they +wish to have in the author's own handwriting, or it will be too late; but +I have never before been huddled out of the world in this way. I take +this rather premature obituary as a hint that, unless I come to some +arrangement with my well-meaning but insatiable correspondents, it would +be as well to leave it in type, for I cannot bear much longer the load +they lay upon me. I will explain myself on this point after I have told +my readers what has frightened me. + +I am beginning to think this room where we take our tea is more like a +tinder-box than a quiet and safe place for "a party in a parlor." It is +true that there are at least two or three incombustibles at our table, +but it looks to me as if the company might pair off before the season is +over, like the crew of Her Majesty's ship the Mantelpiece,--three or four +weddings clear our whole table of all but one or two of the impregnables. +The poem we found in the sugar-bowl last week first opened my eyes to the +probable state of things. Now, the idea of having to tell a +love-story,--perhaps two or three love-stories,--when I set out with the +intention of repeating instructive, useful, or entertaining discussions, +naturally alarms me. It is quite true that many things which look to me +suspicious may be simply playful. Young people (and we have several such +among The Teacups) are fond of make-believe courting when they cannot +have the real thing,--"flirting," as it used to be practised in the days +of Arcadian innocence, not the more modern and more questionable +recreation which has reached us from the home of the cicisbeo. Whatever +comes of it, I shall tell what I see, and take the consequences. + +But I am at this moment going to talk in my own proper person to my own +particular public, which, as I find by my correspondence, is a very +considerable one, and with which I consider myself in exceptionally +pleasant relations. + +I have read recently that Mr. Gladstone receives six hundred letters a +day. Perhaps he does not receive six hundred letters every day, but if +he gets anything like half that number daily, what can he do with them? +There was a time when he was said to answer all his correspondents. It +is understood, I think, that he has given up doing so in these later +days. + +I do not pretend that I receive six hundred or even sixty letters a day, +but I do receive a good many, and have told the public of the fact from +time to time, under the pressure of their constantly increasing +exertions. As it is extremely onerous, and is soon going to be +impossible, for me to keep up the wide range of correspondence which has +become a large part of my occupation, and tends to absorb all the vital +force which is left me, I wish to enter into a final explanation with the +well-meaning but merciless taskmasters who have now for many years been +levying their daily tax upon me. I have preserved thousands of their +letters, and destroyed a very large number, after answering most of them. +A few interesting chapters might be made out of the letters I have +kept,--not only such as are signed by the names of well-known personages, +but many from unknown friends, of whom I had never heard before and have +never heard since. A great deal of the best writing the languages of the +world have ever known has been committed to leaves that withered out of +sight before a second sunlight had fallen upon them. I have had many +letters I should have liked to give the public, had their nature admitted +of their being offered to the world. What straggles of young ambition, +finding no place for its energies, or feeling its incapacity to reach the +ideal towards which it was striving! What longings of disappointed, +defeated fellow-mortals, trying to find a new home for themselves in the +heart of one whom they have amiably idealized! And oh, what hopeless +efforts of mediocrities and inferiorities, believing in themselves as +superiorities, and stumbling on through limping disappointments to +prostrate failure! Poverty comes pleading, not for charity, for the most +part, but imploring us to find a purchaser for its unmarketable wares. +The unreadable author particularly requests us to make a critical +examination of his book, and report to him whatever may be our +verdict,--as if he wanted anything but our praise, and that very often to +be used in his publisher's advertisements. + +But what does not one have to submit to who has become the martyr--the +Saint Sebastian--of a literary correspondence! I will not dwell on the +possible impression produced on a sensitive nature by reading one's own +premature obituary, as I have told you has been my recent experience. I +will not stop to think whether the urgent request for an autograph by +return post, in view of the possible contingencies which might render it +the last one was ever to write, is pleasing or not. At threescore and +twenty one must expect such hints of what is like to happen before long. +I suppose, if some near friend were to watch one who was looking over +such a pressing letter, he might possibly see a slight shadow flit over +the reader's features, and some such dialogue might follow as that +between Othello and Iago, after "this honest creature" has been giving +breath to his suspicions about Desdemona: + + "I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. + Not a jot, not a jot. + ............. + "My lord, I see you're moved." + +And a little later the reader might, like Othello, complain, + + "I have a pain upon my forehead here." + +Nothing more likely. But, for myself, I have grown callous to all such +allusions. The repetition of the Scriptural phrase for the natural term +of life is so frequent that it wears out one's sensibilities. + +But how many charming and refreshing letters I have received! How often +I have felt their encouragement in moments of doubt and depression, such +as the happiest temperaments must sometimes experience! + +If the time comes when to answer all my kind unknown friends, even by +dictation, is impossible, or more than I feel equal to, I wish to refer +any of those who may feel disappointed at not receiving an answer to the +following general acknowledgments: + +I. I am always grateful for any attention which shows me that I am +kindly remembered.--II. Your pleasant message has been read to me, and +has been thankfully listened to.--III. Your book (your essay) (your +poem) has reached me safely, and has received all the respectful +attention to which it seemed entitled. It would take more than all the +time I have at my disposal to read all the printed matter and all the +manuscripts which are sent to me, and you would not ask me to attempt the +impossible. You will not, therefore, expect me to express a critical +opinion of your work.--IV. I am deeply sensible to your expressions of +personal attachment to me as the author of certain writings which have +brought me very near to you, in virtue of some affinity in our ways of +thought and moods of feeling. Although I cannot keep up correspondences +with many of my readers who seem to be thoroughly congenial with myself, +let them be assured that their letters have been read or heard with +peculiar gratification, and are preserved as precious treasures. + +I trust that after this notice no correspondent will be surprised to find +his or her letter thus answered by anticipation; and that if one of the +above formulae is the only answer he receives, the unknown friend will +remember that he or she is one of a great many whose incessant demands +have entirely outrun my power of answering them as fully as the +applicants might wish and perhaps expect. + +I could make a very interesting volume of the letters I have received +from correspondents unknown to the world of authorship, but writing from +an instinctive impulse, which many of them say they have long felt and +resisted. One must not allow himself to be flattered into an +overestimate of his powers because he gets many letters expressing a +peculiar attraction towards his books, and a preference of them to those +with which he would not have dared to compare his own. Still, if the +homo unius libri--the man of one book--choose to select one of our own +writing as his favorite volume, it means something,--not much, perhaps; +but if one has unlocked the door to the secret entrance of one heart, it +is not unlikely that his key may fit the locks of others. What if nature +has lent him a master key? He has found the wards and slid back the bolt +of one lock; perhaps he may have learned the secret of others. One +success is an encouragement to try again. Let the writer of a truly +loving letter, such as greets one from time to time, remember that, +though he never hears a word from it, it may prove one of the best +rewards of an anxious and laborious past, and the stimulus of a still +aspiring future. + +Among the letters I have recently received, none is more interesting than +the following. The story of Helen Keller, who wrote it, is told in the +well-known illustrated magazine called "The Wide Awake," in the number +for July, 1888. For the account of this little girl, now between nine +and ten years old, and other letters of her writing, I must refer to the +article I have mentioned. It is enough to say that she is deaf and dumb +and totally blind. She was seven years old when her teacher, Miss +Sullivan, under the direction of Mr. Anagnos, at the Blind Asylum at +South Boston, began her education. A child fuller of life and happiness +it would be hard to find. It seems as if her soul was flooded with light +and filled with music that had found entrance to it through avenues +closed to other mortals. It is hard to understand how she has learned to +deal with abstract ideas, and so far to supplement the blanks left by the +senses of sight and hearing that one would hardly think of her as wanting +in any human faculty. Remember Milton's pathetic picture of himself, +suffering from only one of poor little Helen's deprivations: + + "Not to me returns + Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, + Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, + Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; + But cloud instead, and ever-during dark + Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men + Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair + Presented with a universal blank + Of Nature's works, to me expunged and rased, + And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out." + +Surely for this loving and lovely child does + + "the celestial Light + Shine inward." + +Anthropologist, metaphysician, most of all theologian, here is a lesson +which can teach you much that you will not find in your primers and +catechisms. Why should I call her "poor little Helen"? Where can you +find a happier child? + +SOUTH BOSTON, MASS., March 1, 1890. + +DEAR KIND POET,--I have thought of you many times since that bright +Sunday when I bade you goodbye, and I am going to write you a letter +because I love you. I am sorry that you have no little children to play +with sometimes, but I think you are very happy with your books, and your +many, many friends. On Washington's Birthday a great many people came +here to see the little blind children, and I read for them from your +poems, and showed them some beautiful shells which came from a little +island near Palos. I am reading a very sad story called "Little Jakey." +Jakey was the sweetest little fellow you can imagine, but he was poor and +blind. I used to think, when I was small and before I could read, that +everybody was always happy, and at first it made me very sad to know +about pain and great sorrow; but now I know that we could never learn to +be brave and patient, if there were only joy in the world. I am studying +about insects in Zoology, and I have learned many things about +butterflies. They do not make honey for us, like the bees, but many of +them are as beautiful as the flowers they light upon, and they always +delight the hearts of little children. They live a gay life, flitting +from flower to flower, sipping the drops of honey-dew, without a thought +for the morrow. They are just like little boys and girls when they +forget books and studies, and run away to the woods and the fields to +gather wild-flowers, or wade in the ponds for fragrant lilies, happy in +the bright sunshine. If my little sister comes to Boston next June, will +you let me bring her to see you? She is a lovely baby and I am sure you +will love [her]. Now I must tell my gentle poet good-bye, for I have a +letter to write home before I go to bed. From your loving little friend, +HELEN A. KELLER. + +The reading of this letter made many eyes glisten, and a dead silence +hushed the whole circle. All at once Delilah, our pretty table-maid, +forgot her place,--what business had she to be listening to our +conversation and reading?--and began sobbing, just as if she had been a +lady. She could n't help it, she explained afterwards,--she had a little +blind sister at the asylum, who had told her about Helen's reading to the +children. + +It was very awkward, this breaking-down of our pretty Delilah, for one +girl crying will sometimes set off a whole row of others,--it is as +hazardous as lighting one cracker in a bunch. The two Annexes hurried +out their pocket-handkerchiefs, and I almost expected a semi-hysteric +cataclysm. At this critical moment Number Five called Delilah to her, +looked into her face with those calm eyes of hers, and spoke a few soft +words. Was Number Five forgetful, too? Did she not remember the +difference of their position? I suppose so. But she quieted the poor +handmaiden as simply and easily as a nursing mother quiets her unweaned +baby. Why are we not all in love with Number Five? Perhaps we are. At +any rate, I suspect the Professor. When we all get quiet, I will touch +him up about that visit she promised to make to his laboratory. + +I got a chance at last to speak privately with him. + +"Did Number Five go to meet you in your laboratory, as she talked of +doing?" + +"Oh, yes, of course she did,--why, she said she would!" + +"Oh, to be sure. Do tell me what she wanted in your laboratory." + +"She wanted me to burn a diamond for her." + +"Burn a diamond! What was that for? Because Cleopatra swallowed a +pearl?" + +"No, nothing of that kind. It was a small stone, and had a flaw in it. +Number Five said she did n't want a diamond with a flaw in it, and that +she did want to see how a diamond would burn." + +"Was that all that happened?" + +"That was all. She brought the two Annexes with her, and I gave my three +visitors a lecture on carbon, which they seemed to enjoy very much." + +I looked steadily in the Professor's face during the reading of the +following poem. I saw no questionable look upon it,--but he has a +remarkable command of his features. Number Five read it with a certain +archness of expression, as if she saw all its meaning, which I think some +of the company did not quite take in. They said they must read it slowly +and carefully. Somehow, "I like you" and "I love you" got a little +mixed, as they heard it. It was not Number Five's fault, for she read it +beautifully, as we all agreed, and as I knew she would when I handed it +to her. + + I LIKE YOU AND I LOVE YOU. + + I LIKE YOU met I LOVE YOU, face to face; + The path was narrow, and they could not pass. + I LIKE YOU smiled; I LOVE YOU cried, Alas! + And so they halted for a little space. + + "Turn thou and go before," I LOVE YOU said, + "Down the green pathway, bright with many a flower + Deep in the valley, lo! my bridal bower + Awaits thee." But I LIKE YOU shook his head. + + Then while they lingered on the span-wide shelf + That shaped a pathway round the rocky ledge, + I LIKE YOU bared his icy dagger's edge, + And first he slew I LOVE YOU,--then himself. + + + + +VII + +There is no use in burdening my table with those letters of inquiry as to +where our meetings are held, and what are the names of the persons +designated by numbers, or spoken of under the titles of the Professor, +the Tutor, and so forth. It is enough that you are aware who I am, and +that I am known at the tea-table as The Dictator. Theatrical "asides" are +apt to be whispered in a pretty loud voice, and the persons who ought not +to have any idea of what is said are expected to be reasonably hard of +bearing. If I named all The Teacups, some of them might be offended. If +any of my readers happen to be able to identify any one Teacup by some +accidental circumstance,--say, for instance, Number Five, by the incident +of her burning the diamond,--I hope they will keep quiet about it. +Number Five does n't want to be pointed out in the street as the +extravagant person who makes use of such expensive fuel, for the story +would soon grow to a statement that she always uses diamonds, instead of +cheaper forms of carbon, to heat her coffee with. So with other members +of the circle. The "Cracked Teacup," Number Seven, would not, perhaps, +be pleased to recognize himself under that title. I repeat it, +therefore, Do not try to identify the individual Teacups. You will not +get them right; or, if you do, you may too probably make trouble. How is +it possible that I can keep up my freedom of intercourse with you all if +you insist on bellowing my "asides" through a speaking-trumpet? Besides, +you cannot have failed to see that there are strong symptoms of the +springing up of delicate relations between some of our number. I told +you how it would be. It did not require a prophet to foresee that the +saucy intruder who, as Mr. Willis wrote, and the dear dead girls used to +sing, in our young days, + + "Taketh every form of air, + And every shape of earth, + And comes unbidden everywhere, + Like thought's mysterious birth," + +would pop his little curly head up between one or more pairs of Teacups. +If you will stop these questions, then, I will go on with my reports of +what was said and done at our meetings over the teacups. + +Of all things beautiful in this fair world, there is nothing so +enchanting to look upon, to dream about, as the first opening of the +flower of young love. How closely the calyx has hidden the glowing +leaves in its quiet green mantle! Side by side, two buds have been +tossing jauntily in the breeze, often brought very near to each other, +sometimes touching for a moment, with a secret thrill in their +close-folded heart-leaves, it may be, but still the cool green sepals +shutting tight over the burning secret within. All at once a morning ray +touches one of the two buds, and the point of a blushing petal betrays +the imprisoned and swelling blossom. + +--Oh, no, I did not promise a love-story. There may be a little +sentiment now and then, but these papers are devoted chiefly to the +opinions, prejudices, fancies, whims, of myself, The Dictator, and others +of The Teacups who have talked or written for the general benefit of the +company. + +Here are some of the remarks I made the other evening on the subject of +Intellectual Over-Feeding and its consequence, Mental Dyspepsia. There is +something positively appalling in the amount of printed matter yearly, +monthly, weekly, daily, secreted by that great gland of the civilized +organism, the press. I need not dilate upon this point, for it is +brought home to every one of you who ever looks into a bookstore or a +public library. So large is the variety of literary products continually +coming forward, forced upon the attention of the reader by stimulating +and suggestive titles, commended to his notice by famous names, recasting +old subjects and developing and illustrating new ones, that the mind is +liable to be urged into a kind of unnatural hunger, leading to a +repletion which is often followed by disgust and disturbed nervous +conditions as its natural consequence. + +It has long been a favorite rule with me, a rule which I have never lost +sight of, however imperfectly I have carried it out: Try to know enough +of a wide range of subjects to profit by the conversation of intelligent +persons of different callings and various intellectual gifts and +acquisitions. The cynic will paraphrase this into a shorter formula: Get +a smattering in every sort of knowledge. I must therefore add a second +piece of advice: Learn to hold as of small account the comments of the +cynic. He is often amusing, sometimes really witty, occasionally, +without meaning it, instructive; but his talk is to profitable +conversation what the stone is to the pulp of the peach, what the cob is +to the kernels on an ear of Indian corn. Once more: Do not be bullied out +of your common sense by the specialist; two to one, he is a pedant, with +all his knowledge and valuable qualities, and will "cavil on the ninth +part of a hair," if it will give him a chance to show off his idle +erudition. + +I saw attributed to me, the other day, the saying, "Know something about +everything, and everything about something." I am afraid it does not +belong to me, but I will treat it as I used to treat a stray boat which +came through my meadow, floating down the Housatonic,--get hold of it and +draw it ashore, and hold on to it until the owner turns up. If this +precept is used discreetly, it is very serviceable; but it is as well to +recognize the fact that you cannot know something about everything in +days like these of intellectual activity, of literary and scientific +production. We all feel this. It makes us nervous to see the shelves of +new books, many of which we feel as if we ought to read, and some among +them to study. We must adopt some principle of selection among the books +outside of any particular branch which we may have selected for study. I +have often been asked what books I would recommend for a course of +reading. I have always answered that I had a great deal rather take +advice than give it. Fortunately, a number of scholars have furnished +lists of books to which the inquirer may be directed. But the worst of +it is that each student is in need of a little library specially adapted +to his wants. Here is a young man writing to me from a Western college, +and wants me to send him a list of the books which I think would be most +useful to him. He does not send me his intellectual measurements, and he +might as well have sent to a Boston tailor for a coat, without any hint +of his dimensions in length, breadth, and thickness. + +But instead of laying down rules for reading, and furnishing lists of the +books which should be read in order, I will undertake the much humbler +task of giving a little quasi-medical advice to persons, young or old, +suffering from book-hunger, book-surfeit, book-nervousness, +book-indigestion, book-nausea, and all other maladies which, directly or +indirectly, may be traced to books, and to which I could give Greek or +Latin names if I thought it worth while. + +I have a picture hanging in my library, a lithograph, of which many of my +readers may have seen copies. It represents a gray-haired old book-lover +at the top of a long flight of steps. He finds himself in clover, so to +speak, among rare old editions, books he has longed to look upon and +never seen before, rarities, precious old volumes, incunabula, +cradle-books, printed while the art was in its infancy,--its glorious +infancy, for it was born a giant. The old bookworm is so intoxicated +with the sight and handling of the priceless treasures that he cannot +bear to put one of the volumes back after he has taken it from the shelf. +So there he stands,--one book open in his hands, a volume under each arm, +and one or more between his legs,--loaded with as many as he can possibly +hold at the same time. + +Now, that is just the way in which the extreme form of book-hunger shows +itself in the reader whose appetite has become over-developed. He wants +to read so many books that he over-crams himself with the crude materials +of knowledge, which become knowledge only when the mental digestion has +time to assimilate them. I never can go into that famous "Corner +Bookstore" and look over the new books in the row before me, as I enter +the door, without seeing half a dozen which I want to read, or at least +to know something about. I cannot empty my purse of its contents, and +crowd my bookshelves with all those volumes. The titles of many of them +interest me. I look into one or two, perhaps. I have sometimes picked +up a line or a sentence, in these momentary glances between the uncut +leaves of a new book, which I have never forgotten. As a trivial but +bona fide example, one day I opened a book on duelling. I remember only +these words: "Conservons-la, cette noble institution." I had never +before seen duelling called a noble institution, and I wish I had taken +the name of the book. Book-tasting is not necessarily profitless, but it +is very stimulating, and makes one hungry for more than he needs for the +nourishment of his thinking-marrow. To feed this insatiable hunger, the +abstracts, the reviews, do their best. But these, again, have grown so +numerous and so crowded with matter that it is hard to find time to +master their contents. We are accustomed, therefore, to look for +analyses of these periodicals, and at last we have placed before us a +formidable-looking monthly, "The Review of Reviews." After the analyses +comes the newspaper notice; and there is still room for the epigram, +which sometimes makes short work with all that has gone before on the +same subject. + +It is just as well to recognize the fact that if one should read day and +night, confining himself to his own language, he could not pretend to +keep up with the press. He might as well try to race with a locomotive. +The first discipline, therefore, is that of despair. If you could stick +to your reading day and night for fifty years, what a learned idiot you +would become long before the half-century was over! Well, then, there is +no use in gorging one's self with knowledge, and no need of self-reproach +because one is content to remain more or less ignorant of many things +which interest his fellow-creatures. We gain a good deal of knowledge +through the atmosphere; we learn a great deal by accidental hearsay, +provided we have the mordant in our own consciousness which makes the +wise remark, the significant fact, the instructive incident, take hold +upon it. After the stage of despair comes the period of consolation. We +soon find that we are not so much worse off than most of our neighbors as +we supposed. The fractional value of the wisest shows a small numerator +divided by an infinite denominator of knowledge. + +I made some explanations to The Teacups, the other evening, which they +received very intelligently and graciously, as I have no doubt the +readers of these reports of mine will receive them. If the reader will +turn back to the end of the fourth number of these papers, he will find +certain lines entitled, "Cacoethes Scribendi." They were said to have +been taken from the usual receptacle of the verses which are contributed +by The Teacups, and, though the fact was not mentioned, were of my own +composition. I found them in manuscript in my drawer, and as my subject +had naturally suggested the train of thought they carried out into +extravagance, I printed them. At the same time they sounded very +natural, as we say, and I felt as if I had published them somewhere or +other before; but I could find no evidence of it, and so I ventured to +have them put in type. + +And here I wish to take breath for a short, separate paragraph. I have +often felt, after writing a line which pleased me more than common, that +it was not new, and perhaps was not my own. I have very rarely, however, +found such a coincidence in ideas or expression as would be enough to +justify an accusation of unconscious plagiarism,--conscious plagiarism is +not my particular failing. I therefore say my say, set down my thought, +print my line, and do not heed the suspicion that I may not be as +original as I supposed, in the passage I have been writing. My +experience may be worth something to a modest young writer, and so I have +interrupted what I was about to say by intercalating this paragraph. + +In this instance my telltale suspicion had not been at fault. I had +printed those same lines, years ago, in "The Contributors' Club," to +which I have rarely sent any of my prose or verse. Nobody but the editor +has noticed the fact, so far as I know. This is consoling, or +mortifying, I hardly know which. I suppose one has a right to plagiarize +from himself, but he does not want to present his work as fresh from the +workshop when it has been long standing in his neighbor's shop-window. + +But I have just received a letter from a brother of the late Henry Howard +Brownell, the poet of the Bay Fight and the River Fight, in which he +quotes a passage from an old book, "A Heroine, Adventures of Cherubina," +which might well have suggested my own lines, if I had ever seen it. I +have not the slightest recollection of the book or the passage. I think +its liveliness and "local color" will make it please the reader, as it +pleases me, more than my own more prosaic extravagances: + + LINES TO A PRETTY LITTLE MAID OF MAMMA'S. + + "If Black Sea, Red Sea, White Sea, ran + One tide of ink to Ispahan, + If all the geese in Lincoln fens + Produced spontaneous well-made pens, + If Holland old and Holland new + One wondrous sheet of paper grew, + And could I sing but half the grace + Of half a freckle in thy face, + Each syllable I wrote would reach + From Inverness to Bognor's beach, + Each hair-stroke be a river Rhine, + Each verse an equinoctial line!" + +"The immediate dismissal of the 'little maid' was the consequence." + +I may as well say that our Delilah was not in the room when the last +sentence was read. + +Readers must be either very good-natured or very careless. I have laid +myself open to criticism by more than one piece of negligence, which has +been passed over without invidious comment by the readers of my papers. +How could I, for instance, have written in my original "copy" for the +printer about the fisherman baiting his hook with a giant's tail instead +of a dragon's? It is the automatic fellow,--Me--Number-Two of our dual +personality,--who does these things, who forgets the message +Me--Number--One sends down to him from the cerebral convolutions, and +substitutes a wrong word for the right one. I suppose Me--Number--Two +will "sass back," and swear that "giant's" was the message which came +down from headquarters. He is always doing the wrong thing and excusing +himself. Who blows out the gas instead of shutting it off? Who puts the +key in the desk and fastens it tight with the spring lock? Do you mean +to say that the upper Me, the Me of the true thinking-marrow, the +convolutions of the brain, does not know better? Of course he does, and +Me-Number-Two is a careless servant, who remembers some old direction, +and follows that instead of the one just given. + +Number Seven demurred to this, and I am not sure that he is wrong in so +doing. He maintains that the automatic fellow always does just what he +is told to do. Number Five is disposed to agree with him. We will talk +over the question. + +But come, now, why should not a giant have a tail as well as a dragon? +Linnaeus admitted the homo caudatus into his anthropological catalogue. +The human embryo has a very well marked caudal appendage; that is, the +vertebral column appears prolonged, just as it is in a young quadruped. +During the late session of the Medical Congress at Washington, my friend +Dr. Priestley, a distinguished London physician, of the highest character +and standing, showed me the photograph of a small boy, some three or four +years old, who had a very respectable little tail, which would have +passed muster on a pig, and would have made a frog or a toad ashamed of +himself. I have never heard what became of the little boy, nor have I +looked in the books or journals to find out if there are similar cases on +record, but I have no doubt that there are others. And if boys may have +this additional ornament to their vertebral columns, why not men? And if +men, why not giants? So I may not have made a very bad blunder, after +all, and my reader has learned something about the homo caudatus as +spoken of by Linnxus, and as shown me in photograph by Dr. Priestley. +This child is a candidate for the vacant place of Missing Link. + +In accounting for the blunders, and even gross blunders, which, sooner or +later, one who writes much is pretty sure to commit, I must not forget +the part played by the blind spot or idiotic area in the brain, which I +have already described. + +The most knowing persons we meet with are sometimes at fault. Nova +onania possumus omnes is not a new nor profound axiom, but it is well to +remember it as a counterpoise to that other truly American saying of the +late Mr. Samuel Patch, "Some things can be done as well as others." Yes, +some things, but not all things. We all know men and women who hate to +admit their ignorance of anything. Like Talkative in "Pilgrim's +Progress," they are ready to converse of "things heavenly or things +earthly; things moral or things evangelical; things sacred or things +profane; things past or things to come; things foreign or things at home; +things more essential or things circumstantial." + +Talkative is apt to be a shallow fellow, and to say foolish things about +matters he only half understands, and yet he has his place in society. +The specialists would grow to be intolerable, were they not counterpoised +to some degree by the people of general intelligence. The man who knows +too much about one particular subject is liable to become a terrible +social infliction. Some of the worst bores (to use plain language) we +ever meet with are recognized as experts of high grade in their +respective departments. Beware of making so much as a pinhole in the dam +that holds back their knowledge. They ride their hobbies without bit or +bridle. A poet on Pegasus, reciting his own verses, is hardly more to be +dreaded than a mounted specialist. + +One of the best offices which women perform for men is that of tasting +books for them. They may or may not be profound students,--some of them +are; but we do not expect to meet women like Mrs. Somerville, or Caroline +Herschel, or Maria Mitchell at every dinner-table or afternoon tea. But +give your elect lady a pile of books to look over for you, and she will +tell you what they have for her and for you in less time than you would +have wasted in stupefying yourself over a single volume. + +One of the encouraging signs of the times is the condensed and +abbreviated form in which knowledge is presented to the general reader. +The short biographies of historic personages, of which within the past +few years many have been published, have been a great relief to the large +class of readers who want to know something, but not too much, about +them. + +What refuge is there for the victim who is oppressed with the feeling +that there are a thousand new books he ought to read, while life is only +long enough for him to attempt to read a hundred? Many readers remember +what old Rogers, the poet, said: + +"When I hear a new book talked about or have it pressed upon me, I read +an old one." + +Happy the man who finds his rest in the pages of some favorite classic! +I know no reader more to be envied than that friend of mine who for many +years has given his days and nights to the loving study of Horace. After +a certain period in life, it is always with an effort that we admit a new +author into the inner circle of our intimates. The Parisian omnibuses, +as I remember them half a century ago,--they may still keep to the same +habit, for aught that I know,--used to put up the sign "Complet" as soon +as they were full. Our public conveyances are never full until the +natural atmospheric pressure of sixteen pounds to the square inch is +doubled, in the close packing of the human sardines that fill the +all-accommodating vehicles. A new-comer, however well mannered and well +dressed, is not very welcome under these circumstances. In the same way, +our tables are full of books half-read and books we feel that we must +read. And here come in two thick volumes, with uncut leaves, in small +type, with many pages, and many lines to a page,--a book that must be +read and ought to be read at once. What a relief to hand it over to the +lovely keeper of your literary conscience, who will tell you all that you +will most care to know about it, and leave you free to plunge into your +beloved volume, in which you are ever finding new beauties, and from +which you rise refreshed, as if you had just come from the cool waters of +Hippocrene! The stream of modern literature represented by the books and +periodicals on the crowded counters is a turbulent and clamorous torrent, +dashing along among the rocks of criticism, over the pebbles of the +world's daily events; trying to make itself seen and heard amidst the +hoarse cries of the politicians and the rumbling wheels of traffic. The +classic is a still lakelet, a mountain tarn, fed by springs that never +fail, its surface never ruffled by storms,--always the same, always +smiling a welcome to its visitor. Such is Horace to my friend. To his +eye "Lydia, dic per omnes" is as familiar as "Pater noster qui es in +caelis" to that of a pious Catholic. "Integer vitae," which he has put +into manly English, his Horace opens to as Watt's hymn-book opens to +"From all that dwell below the skies." The more he reads, the more he +studies his author, the richer are the treasures he finds. And what +Horace is to him, Homer, or Virgil, or Dante is to many a quiet reader, +sick to death of the unending train of bookmakers. + +I have some curious books in my library, a few of which I should like to +say something about to The Teacups, when they have no more immediately +pressing subjects before them. A library of a few thousand volumes ought +always to have some books in it which the owner almost never opens, yet +with whose backs he is so well acquainted that he feels as if he knew +something of their contents. They are like those persons whom we meet in +our daily walks, with whose faces and figures, whose summer and winter +garments, whose walking-sticks and umbrellas even, we feel acquainted, +and yet whose names, whose business, whose residences, we know nothing +about. Some of these books are so formidable in their dimensions, so +rusty and crabbed in their aspect, that it takes a considerable amount of +courage to attack them. + +I will ask Delilah to bring down from my library a very thick, stout +volume, bound in parchment, and standing on the lower shelf, next the +fireplace. The pretty handmaid knows my books almost as if she were my +librarian, and I don't doubt she would have found it if I had given only +the name on the back. + +Delilah returned presently, with the heavy quarto in her arms. It was a +pleasing sight,--the old book in the embrace of the fresh young damsel. +I felt, on looking at them, as I did when I followed the slip of a girl +who conducted us in the Temple, that ancient building in the heart of +London. The long-enduring monuments of the dead do so mock the fleeting +presence of the living! + +Is n't this book enough to scare any of you? I said, as Delilah dumped +it down upon the table. The teacups jumped from their saucers as it +thumped on the board. Danielis Georgii Morhofii Polyhistor, Literarius, +Philosophicus et Poeticus. Lubecae MDCCXXXIII. Perhaps I should not +have ventured to ask you to look at this old volume, if it had not been +for the fact that Dr. Johnson mentions Morohof as the author to whom he +was specially indebted.--more, I think, than to any other. It is a grand +old encyclopaedic summary of all the author knew about pretty nearly +everything, full of curious interest, but so strangely mediaeval, so +utterly antiquated in most departments of knowledge, that it is hard to +believe the volume came from the press at a time when persons whom I well +remember were living. Is it possible that the books which have been for +me what Morhof was for Dr. Johnson can look like that to the student of +the year 1990? + +Morhof was a believer in magic and the transmutation of metals. There was +always something fascinating to me in the old books of alchemy. I have +felt that the poetry of science lost its wings when the last powder of +projection had been cast into the crucible, and the fire of the last +transmutation furnace went out. Perhaps I am wrong in implying that +alchemy is an extinct folly. It existed in New England's early days, as +we learn from the Winthrop papers, and I see no reason why gold-making +should not have its votaries as well as other popular delusions. + +Among the essays of Morhof is one on the "Paradoxes of the Senses." That +title brought to mind the recollection of another work I have been +meaning to say something about, at some time when you were in the +listening mood. The book I refer to is "A Budget of Paradoxes," by +Augustus De Morgan. De Morgan is well remembered as a very distinguished +mathematician, whose works have kept his name in high honor to the +present time. The book I am speaking of was published by his widow, and +is largely made up of letters received by him and his comments upon them. +Few persons ever read it through. Few intelligent readers ever took it +up and laid it down without taking a long draught of its singular and +interesting contents. The letters are mostly from that class of persons +whom we call "cranks," in our familiar language. + +At this point Number Seven interrupted me by calling out, "Give us some +of those cranks' letters. A crank is a man who does his own thinking. I +had a relation who was called a crank. I believe I have been spoken of +as one myself. That is what you have to expect if you invent anything +that puts an old machine out of fashion, or solve a problem that has +puzzled all the world up to your time. There never was a religion +founded but its Messiah was called a crank. There never was an idea +started that woke up men out of their stupid indifference but its +originator was spoken of as a crank. Do you want to know why that name +is given to the men who do most for the world's progress? I will tell +you. It is because cranks make all the wheels in all the machinery of +the world go round. What would a steam-engine be without a crank? I +suppose the first fool that looked on the first crank that was ever made +asked what that crooked, queer-looking thing was good for. When the +wheels got moving he found out. Tell us something about that book which +has so much to say concerning cranks." + +Hereupon I requested Delilah to carry back Morhof, and replace him in the +wide gap he had left in the bookshelf. She was then to find and bring +down the volume I had been speaking of. + +Delilah took the wisdom of the seventeenth century in her arms, and +departed on her errand. The book she brought down was given me some +years ago by a gentleman who had sagaciously foreseen that it was just +one of those works which I might hesitate about buying, but should be +well pleased to own. He guessed well; the book has been a great source +of instruction and entertainment to me. I wonder that so much time and +cost should have been expended upon a work which might have borne a title +like the Encomium Moriae of Erasmus; and yet it is such a wonderful +museum of the productions of the squinting brains belonging to the class +of persons commonly known as cranks that we could hardly spare one of its +five hundred octavo pages. + +Those of us who are in the habit of receiving letters from all sorts of +would-be-literary people--letters of inquiry, many of them with reference +to matters we are supposed to understand--can readily see how it was that +Mr. De Morgan, never too busy to be good-natured with the people who +pestered--or amused-him with their queer fancies, received such a number +of letters from persons who thought they had made great discoveries, from +those who felt that they and their inventions and contrivances had been +overlooked, and who sought in his large charity of disposition and great +receptiveness a balm for their wounded feelings and a ray of hope for +their darkened prospects. + +The book before us is made up from papers published in "The Athenaeum," +with additions by the author. Soon after opening it we come to names +with which we are familiar, the first of these, that of Cornelius +Agrippa, being connected with the occult and mystic doctrines dealt with +by many of De Morgan's correspondents. But the name most likely to +arrest us is that of Giordano Bruno, the same philosopher, heretic, and +martyr whose statue has recently been erected in Rome, to the great +horror of the Pope and his prelates in the Old World and in the New. De +Morgan's pithy account of him will interest the company: "Giordano Bruno +was all paradox. He was, as has been said, a vorticist before Descartes, +an optimist before Leibnitz, a Copernican before Galileo. It would be +easy to collect a hundred strange opinions of his. He was born about +1550, and was roasted alive at Rome, February 17, 1600, for the +maintenance and defence of the Holy Church, and the rights and liberties +of the same." + +Number Seven could not contain himself when the reading had reached this +point. He rose from his chair, and tinkled his spoon against the side of +his teacup. It may have been a fancy, but I thought it returned a sound +which Mr. Richard Briggs would have recognized as implying an organic +defect. But Number Seven did not seem to notice it, or, if he did, to +mind it. + +"Why did n't we all have a chance to help erect that statue?" he cried. +"A murdered heretic at the beginning of the seventeenth century, a hero +of knowledge in the nineteenth,--I drink to the memory of the roasted +crank, Giordano Bruno!" + +Number Seven lifted his teacup to his lips, and most of us followed his +example. + +After this outburst of emotion and eloquence had subsided, and the +teaspoons lay quietly in their saucers, I went on with my extract from +the book I had in hand. + +I think, I said, that the passage which follows will be new and +instructive to most of the company. De Morgan's interpretation of the +cabalistic sentence, made up as you will find it, is about as ingenious a +piece of fanciful exposition as you will be likely to meet with anywhere +in any book, new or old. I am the more willing to mention it as it +suggests a puzzle which some of the company may like to work upon. +Observe the character and position of the two distinguished philosophers +who did not think their time thrown away in laboring at this seemingly +puerile task. + +"There is a kind of Cabbala Alphabetica which the investigators of the +numerals in words would do well to take up; it is the formation of +sentences which contain all the letters of the alphabet, and each only +once. No one has done it with v and j treated as consonants; but you and +I can do it. Dr. Whewell and I amused ourselves some years ago with +attempts. He could not make sense, though he joined words he gave me +Phiz, styx, wrong, buck, flame, quiz. + +"I gave him the following, which he agreed was 'admirable sense,'--I +certainly think the words would never have come together except in this +way: I quartz pyx who fling muck beds. I long thought that no human +being could say this under any circumstances. At last I happened to be +reading a religious writer,--as he thought himself,--who threw aspersions +on his opponents thick and threefold. Heyday came into my head; this +fellow flings muck beds; he must be a quartz pyx. And then I remembered +that a pyx is a sacred vessel, and quartz is a hard stone, as hard as the +heart of a religious foe-curser. So that the line is the motto of the +ferocious sectarian who turns his religious vessels into mud-holders, for +the benefit of those who will not see what he sees." + +"There are several other sentences given, in which all the letters +(except v and j as consonants) are employed, of which the following is +the best: Get nymph; quiz sad brow; fix luck,--which in more sober +English would be, Marry; be cheerful; watch your business. There is more +edification, more religion, in this than in all the 666 interpretations +put together." + +There is something very pleasant in the thought of these two sages +playing at jackstraws with the letters of the alphabet. The task which +De Morgan and Dr. Whewell, "the omniscient," set themselves would not be +unworthy of our own ingenious scholars, and it might be worth while for +some one of our popular periodicals to offer a prize for the best +sentence using up the whole alphabet, under the same conditions as those +submitted to by our two philosophers. + +This whole book of De Morgan's seems to me full of instruction. There is +too much of it, no doubt; yet one can put up with the redundancy for the +sake of the multiplicity of shades of credulity and self-deception it +displays in broad daylight. I suspect many of us are conscious of a +second personality in our complex nature, which has many traits +resembling those found in the writers of the letters addressed to Mr. De +Horgan. + +I have not ventured very often nor very deeply into the field of +metaphysics, but if I were disposed to make any claim in that direction, +it would be the recognition of the squinting brain, the introduction of +the term "cerebricity" corresponding to electricity, the idiotic area in +the brain or thinking-marrow, and my studies of the second member in the +partnership of I-My-Self & Co. I add the Co. with especial reference to +a very interesting article in a late Scribner, by my friend Mr. William +James. In this article the reader will find a full exposition of the +doctrine of plural personality illustrated by striking cases. I have +long ago noticed and referred to the fact of the stratification of the +currents of thought in three layers, one over the other. I have +recognized that where there are two individuals talking together there +are really six personalities engaged in the conversation. But the +distinct, separable, independent individualities, taking up conscious +life one after the other, are brought out by Mr. James and the +authorities to which he refers as I have not elsewhere seen them +developed. + +Whether we shall ever find the exact position of the idiotic centre or +area in the brain (if such a spot exists) is uncertain. We know exactly +where the blind spot of the eye is situated, and can demonstrate it +anatomically and physiologically. But we have only analogy to lead us to +infer the possible or even probable existence of an insensible spot in +the thinking-centre. If there is a focal point where consciousness is at +its highest development, it would not be strange if near by there should +prove to be an anaesthetic district or limited space where no report from +the senses was intelligently interpreted. But all this is mere +hypothesis. + +Notwithstanding the fact that I am nominally the head personage of the +circle of Teacups, I do not pretend or wish to deny that we all look to +Number Five as our chief adviser in all the literary questions that come +before us. She reads more and better than any of us. She is always +ready to welcome the first sign of genius, or of talent which approaches +genius. She makes short work with all the pretenders whose only excuse +for appealing to the public is that they "want to be famous." She is one +of the very few persons to whom I am willing to read any one of my own +productions while it is yet in manuscript, unpublished. I know she is +disposed to make more of it than it deserves; but, on the other hand, +there are degrees in her scale of judgment, and I can distinguish very +easily what delights her from what pleases only, or is, except for her +kindly feeling to the writer, indifferent, or open to severe comment. +What is curious is that she seems to have no literary aspirations, no +desire to be known as a writer. Yet Number Five has more esprit, more +sparkle, more sense in her talk, than many a famous authoress from whom +we should expect brilliant conversation. + +There are mysteries about Number Five. I am not going to describe her +personally. Whether she belongs naturally among the bright young people, +or in the company of the maturer persons, who have had a good deal of +experience of the world, and have reached the wisdom of the riper decades +without losing the graces of the earlier ones, it would be hard to say. +The men and women, young and old, who throng about her forget their own +ages. "There is no such thing as time in her presence," said the +Professor, the other day, in speaking of her. Whether the Professor is in +love with her or not is more than I can say, but I am sure that he goes +to her for literary sympathy and counsel, just as I do. The reader may +remember what Number Five said about the possibility of her getting a +sprained ankle, and her asking the young Doctor whether he felt equal to +taking charge of her if she did. I would not for the world insinuate +that he wishes she would slip and twist her foot a little,--just a +little, you know, but so that it would have to be laid on a pillow in a +chair, and inspected, and bandaged, and delicately manipulated. There +was a banana-skin which she might naturally have trodden on, in her way +to the tea-table. Nobody can suppose that it was there except by the +most innocent of accidents. There are people who will suspect everybody. +The idea of the Doctor's putting that banana-skin there! People love to +talk in that silly way about doctors. + +Number Five had promised to read us a narrative which she thought would +interest some of the company. Who wrote it she did not tell us, but I +inferred from various circumstances that she had known the writer. She +read the story most effectively in her rich, musical voice. I noticed +that when it came to the sounds of the striking clock, the ringing of the +notes was so like that which reaches us from some far-off cathedral tower +that we wanted to bow our heads, as if we had just heard a summons to the +Angelus. This was the short story that Number Five read to The +Teacups:-- + +I have somewhere read this anecdote. Louis the Fourteenth was looking +out, one day, from, a window of his palace of Saint-Germain. It was a +beautiful landscape which spread out before him, and the monarch, +exulting in health, strength, and the splendors of his exalted position, +felt his bosom swell with emotions of pride and happiness: Presently he +noticed the towers of a church in the distance, above the treetops. +"What building is that?" he asked. "May it please your Majesty, that is +the Church of St. Denis, where your royal ancestors have been buried for +many generations." The answer did not "please his Royal Majesty." +There, then, was the place where he too was to lie and moulder in the +dust. He turned, sick at heart, from the window, and was uneasy until he +had built him another palace, from which he could never be appalled by +that fatal prospect. + +Something like the experience of Louis the Fourteenth was that of the +owner of + + THE TERRIBLE CLOCK. + +I give the story as transcribed from the original manuscript:-- + +The clock was bequeathed to me by an old friend who had recently died. +His mind had been a good deal disordered in the later period of his life. +This clock, I am told; seemed to have a strange fascination for him. His +eyes were fastened on it during the last hours of his life. He died just +at midnight. The clock struck twelve, the nurse told me, as he drew his +last breath, and then, without any known cause, stopped, with both hands +upon the hour. + +It is a complex and costly piece of mechanism. The escapement is in +front, so that every tooth is seen as it frees itself. It shows the +phases of the moon, the month of the year, the day of the month, and the +day of the week, as well as the hour and minute of the day. + +I had not owned it a week before I began to perceive the same kind of +fascination as that which its former owner had experienced. This +gradually grew upon me, and presently led to trains of thought which +became at first unwelcome, then worrying, and at last unendurable. I +began by taking offence at the moon. I did not like to see that +"something large and smooth and round," so like the skull which little +Peterkin picked up on the field of Blenheim. "How many times," I kept +saying to myself, "is that wicked old moon coming up to stare at me?" I +could not stand it. I stopped a part of the machinery, and the moon went +into permanent eclipse. By and by the sounds of the infernal machine +began to trouble and pursue me. They talked to me; more and more their +language became that of articulately speaking men. They twitted me with +the rapid flight of time. They hurried me, as if I had not a moment to +lose. Quick! Quick! Quick! as each tooth released itself from the +escapement. And as I looked and listened there could not be any mistake +about it. I heard Quick! Quick! Quick! as plainly, at least, as I ever +heard a word from the phonograph. I stood watching the dial one day,--it +was near one o'clock,--and a strange attraction held me fastened to the +spot. Presently something appeared to trip or stumble inside of the +infernal mechanism. I waited for the sound I knew was to follow. How +nervous I got! It seemed to me that it would never strike. At last the +minute-hand reached the highest point of the dial. Then there was a +little stir among the works, as there is in a congregation as it rises to +receive the benediction. It was no form of blessing which rung out those +deep, almost sepulchral tones. But the word they uttered could not be +mistaken. I can hear its prolonged, solemn vibrations as if I were +standing before the clock at this moment. + +Gone! Yes, I said to myself, gone,--its record made up to be opened in +eternity. + +I stood still, staring vaguely at the dial as in a trance. And as the +next hour creeps stealthily up, it starts all at once, and cries aloud, +Gone!--Gone! The sun sinks lower, the hour-hand creeps downward with it, +until I hear the thrice-repeated monosyllable, Gone!--Gone!--Gone! Soon +through the darkening hours, until at the dead of night the long roll is +called, and with the last Gone! the latest of the long procession that +filled the day follows its ghostly companions into the stillness and +darkness of the past. + +I silenced the striking part of the works. Still, the escapement kept +repeating, Quick! Quick! Quick! Still the long minute-hand, like the +dart in the grasp of Death, as we see it in Roubiliac's monument to Mrs. +Nightingale, among the tombs of Westminster Abbey, stretched itself out, +ready to transfix each hour as it passed, and make it my last. I sat by +the clock to watch the leap from one day of the week to the next. Then +would come, in natural order, the long stride from one month to the +following one. + +I could endure it no longer. "Take that clock away!" I said. They took +it away. They took me away, too,--they thought I needed country air. +The sounds and motions still pursued me in imagination. I was very +nervous when I came here. The walks are pleasant, but the walls seem to +me unnecessarily high. The boarders are numerous; a little +miscellaneous, I think. But we have the Queen, and the President of the +United States, and several other distinguished persons, if we may trust +what they tell about themselves. + +After we had listened to Number Five's story, I was requested to read a +couple of verses written by me when the guest of my friends, whose name +is hinted by the title prefixed to my lines. + + LA MAISON D'OR. + + BAR HARBOR. + + From this fair home behold on either side + The restful mountains or the restless sea: + So the warm sheltering walls of life divide + Time and its tides from still eternity. + + Look on the waves: their stormy voices teach + That not on earth may toil and struggle cease. + Look on the mountains: better far than speech + Their silent promise of eternal peace. + + + + +VIII. + +I had intended to devote this particular report to an account of my +replies to certain questions which have been addressed to me,--questions +which I have a right to suppose interest the public, and which, +therefore, I was justified in bringing before The Teacups, and presenting +to the readers of these articles. + +Some may care for one of these questions, and some for another. A good +many young people think nothing about life as it presents itself in the +far horizon, bounded by the snowy ridges of threescore and the dim peaks +beyond that remote barrier. Again, there are numbers of persons who know +nothing at all about the Jews; while, on the other hand, there are those +who can, or think they can, detect the Israelitish blood in many of their +acquaintances who believe themselves of the purest Japhetic origin, and +are full of prejudices about the Semitic race. + +I do not mean to be cheated out of my intentions. I propose to answer my +questioners on the two points just referred to, but I find myself so much +interested in the personal affairs of The Teacups that I must deal with +them before attacking those less exciting subjects. There is no use, let +me say here, in addressing to me letters marked "personal," "private," +"confidential," and so forth, asking me how I came to know what happened +in certain conversations of which I shall give a partial account. If +there is a very sensitive phonograph lying about here and there in +unsuspected corners, that might account for some part of my revelations. +If Delilah, whose hearing is of almost supernatural delicacy, reports to +me what she overhears, it might explain a part of the mystery. I do not +want to accuse Delilah, but a young person who assures me she can hear my +watch ticking in my pocket, when I am in the next room, might undoubtedly +tell many secrets, if so disposed. Number Five is pretty nearly +omniscient, and she and I are on the best terms with each other. These +are all the hints I shall give you at present. + +The Teacups of whom the least has been heard at our table are the Tutor +and the Musician. The Tutor is a modest young man, kept down a little, I +think, by the presence of older persons, like the Professor and myself. +I have met him several times, of late, walking with different lady +Teacups: once with the American Annex; twice with the English Annex; once +with the two Annexes together; once with Number Five. + +I have mentioned the fact that the Tutor is a poet as among his claims to +our attention. I must add that I do not think any the worse of him for +expressing his emotions and experiences in verse. For though rhyming is +often a bad sign in a young man, especially if he is already out of his +teens, there are those to whom it is as natural, one might almost say as +necessary, as it is to a young bird to fly. One does not care to see +barnyard fowls tumbling about in trying to use their wings. They have a +pair of good, stout drumsticks, and had better keep to them, for the most +part. But that feeling does not apply to young eagles, or even to young +swallows and sparrows. The Tutor is by no means one of those ignorant, +silly, conceited phrase-tinklers, who live on the music of their own +jingling syllables and the flattery of their foolish friends. I think +Number Five must appreciate him. He is sincere, warmhearted,--his poetry +shows that,--not in haste to be famous, and he looks to me as if he only +wanted love to steady him. With one of those two young girls he ought +certainly to be captivated, if he is not already. Twice walking with the +English Annex, I met him, and they were so deeply absorbed in +conversation they hardly noticed me. He has been talking over the matter +with Number Five, who is just the kind of person for a confidante. + +"I know I feel very lonely," he was saying, "and I only wish I felt sure +that I could make another person happy. My life would be transfigured if +I could find such a one, whom I could love well enough to give my life to +her,--for her, if that were needful, and who felt an affinity for me, if +any one could." + +"And why not your English maiden?" said Number Five. + +"What makes you think I care more for her than for her American friend?" +said the Tutor. + +"Why, have n't I met you walking with her, and did n't you both seem +greatly interested in the subject you were discussing? I thought, of +course, it was something more or less sentimental that you were talking +about." + +"I was explaining that 'enclitic de' in Browning's Grammarian's Funeral. +I don't think there was anything very sentimental about that. She is an +inquisitive creature, that English girl. She is very fond of asking me +questions,--in fact, both of them are. There is one curious difference +between them: the English girl settles down into her answers and is +quiet; the American girl is never satisfied with yesterday's conclusions; +she is always reopening old questions in the light of some new fact or +some novel idea. I suppose that people bred from childhood to lean their +backs against the wall of the Creed and the church catechism find it hard +to sit up straight on the republican stool, which obliges them to stiffen +their own backs. Which of these two girls would be the safest choice for +a young man? I should really like to hear what answer you would make if I +consulted you seriously, with a view to my own choice,--on the +supposition that there was a fair chance that either of them might be +won." + +"The one you are in love with," answered Number Five. + +"But what if it were a case of 'How happy could I be with either'? Which +offers the best chance of happiness,--a marriage between two persons of +the same country, or a marriage where one of the parties is of foreign +birth? Everything else being equal, which is best for an American to +marry, an American or an English girl? We need not confine the question +to those two young persons, but put it more generally." + +"There are reasons on both sides," answered Number Five. "I have often +talked this matter over with The Dictator. This is the way he speaks +about it. English blood is apt to tell well on the stock upon which it +is engrafted. Over and over again he has noticed finely grown specimens +of human beings, and on inquiry has found that one or both of the parents +or grandparents were of British origin. The chances are that the +descendants of the imported stock will be of a richer organization, more +florid, more muscular, with mellower voices, than the native whose blood +has been unmingled with that of new emigrants since the earlier colonial +times.--So talks The Dictator.--I myself think the American will find his +English wife concentrates herself more readily and more exclusively on +her husband,--for the obvious reason that she is obliged to live mainly +in him. I remember hearing an old friend of my early days say, 'A woman +does not bear transplanting.' It does not do to trust these old sayings, +and yet they almost always have some foundation in the experience of +mankind, which has repeated them from generation to generation. Happy is +the married woman of foreign birth who can say to her husband, as +Andromache said to Hector, after enumerating all the dear relatives she +had lost, + + "'Yet while my hector still survives, + I see My father, mother, brethren, all in thee!' + +"How many a sorrowing wife, exiled from her native country, dreams of the +mother she shall see no more! How many a widow, in a strange land, +wishes that her poor, worn-out body could be laid among her kinsfolk, in +the little churchyard where she used to gather daisies in her childhood! +It takes a great deal of love to keep down the 'climbing sorrow' that +swells up in a woman's throat when such memories seize upon her, in her +moments of desolation. But if a foreign-born woman does willingly give +up all for a man, and never looks backward, like Lot's wife, she is a +prize that it is worth running a risk to gain,--that is, if she has the +making of a good woman in her; and a few years will go far towards +naturalizing her." + +The Tutor listened to Number Five with much apparent interest. "And +now," he said, "what do you think of her companion?" + +"A charming girl for a man of a quiet, easy temperament. The great +trouble is with her voice. It is pitched a full note too high. It is +aggressive, disturbing, and would wear out a nervous man without his ever +knowing what was the matter with him. A good many crazy Northern people +would recover their reason if they could live for a year or two among the +blacks of the Southern States. But the penetrating, perturbing quality +of the voices of many of our Northern women has a great deal to answer +for in the way of determining love and friendship. You remember that +dear friend of ours who left us not long since? If there were more +voices like hers, the world would be a different place to live in. I do +not believe any man or woman ever came within the range of those sweet, +tranquil tones without being hushed, captivated, entranced I might almost +say, by their calming, soothing influence. Can you not imagine the tones +in which those words, 'Peace, be still,' were spoken? Such was the +effect of the voice to which but a few weeks ago we were listening. It +is hard to believe that it has died out of human consciousness. Can such +a voice be spared from that world of happiness to which we fondly look +forward, where we love to dream, if we do not believe with assured +conviction, that whatever is loveliest in this our mortal condition shall +be with us again as an undying possession? Your English friend has a +very agreeable voice, round, mellow, cheery, and her articulation is +charming. Other things being equal, I think you, who are, perhaps, +oversensitive, would live from two to three years longer with her than +with the other. I suppose a man who lived within hearing of a murmuring +brook would find his life shortened if a sawmill were set up within +earshot of his dwelling." + +"And so you advise me to make love to the English girl, do you?" asked +the Tutor. + +Number Five laughed. It was not a loud laugh, she never laughed noisily; +it was not a very hearty laugh; the idea did not seem to amuse her much. + +"No," she said, "I won't take the responsibility. Perhaps this is a case +in which the true reading of Gay's line would be-- + + "How happy could I be with neither. + +"There are several young women in the world besides our two Annexes." + +I question whether the Tutor had asked those questions very seriously, +and I doubt if Number Five thought he was very much in earnest. + +One of The Teacups reminded me that I had promised to say something of my +answers to certain questions. So I began at once: + +I have given the name of brain-tappers to the literary operatives who +address persons whose names are well known to the public, asking their +opinions or their experiences on subjects which are at the time of +general interest. They expect a literary man or a scientific expert to +furnish them materials for symposia and similar articles, to be used by +them for their own special purposes. Sometimes they expect to pay for +the information furnished them; at other times, the honor of being +included in a list of noted personages who have received similar requests +is thought sufficient compensation. The object with which the +brain-tapper puts his questions may be a purely benevolent and entirely +disinterested one. Such was the object of some of those questions which +I have received and answered. There are other cases, in which the +brain-tapper is acting much as those persons do who stop a physician in +the street to talk with him about their livers or stomachs, or other +internal arrangements, instead of going to his office and consulting him, +expecting to pay for his advice. Others are more like those busy women +who, having the generous intention of making a handsome present to their +pastor, at as little expense as may be, send to all their neighbors and +acquaintances for scraps of various materials, out of which the imposing +"bedspread" or counterpane is to be elaborated. + +That is all very well so long as old pieces of stuff are all they call +for, but it is a different matter to ask for clippings out of new and +uncut rolls of cloth. So it is one thing to ask an author for liberty to +use extracts from his published writings, and it is a very different +thing to expect him to write expressly for the editor's or compiler's +piece of literary patchwork. + +I have received many questions within the last year or two, some of which +I am willing to answer, but prefer to answer at my own time, in my own +way, through my customary channel of communication with the public. I +hope I shall not be misunderstood as implying any reproach against the +inquirers who, in order to get at facts which ought to be known, apply to +all whom they can reach for information. Their inquisitiveness is not +always agreeable or welcome, but we ought to be glad that there are +mousing fact-hunters to worry us with queries to which, for the sake of +the public, we are bound to give our attention. Let me begin with my +brain-tappers. + +And first, as the papers have given publicity to the fact that I, The +Dictator of this tea-table, have reached the age of threescore years and +twenty, I am requested to give information as to how I managed to do it, +and to explain just how they can go and do likewise. I think I can lay +down a few rules that will help them to the desired result. There is no +certainty in these biological problems, but there are reasonable +probabilities upon which it is safe to act. + +The first thing to be done is, some years before birth, to advertise for +a couple of parents both belonging to long-lived families. Especially let +the mother come of a race in which octogenarians and nonagenarians are +very common phenomena. There are practical difficulties in following out +this suggestion, but possibly the forethought of your progenitors, or +that concurrence of circumstances which we call accident, may have +arranged this for you. + +Do not think that a robust organization is any warrant of long life, nor +that a frail and slight bodily constitution necessarily means scanty +length of days. Many a strong-limbed young man and many a blooming young +woman have I seen failing and dropping away in or before middle life, and +many a delicate and slightly constituted person outliving the athletes +and the beauties of their generation. Whether the excessive development +of the muscular system is compatible with the best condition of general +health is, I think, more than doubtful. The muscles are great sponges +that suck up and make use of large quantities of blood, and the other +organs must be liable to suffer for want of their share. + +One of the Seven Wise Men of Greece boiled his wisdom down into two +words,--NOTHING TOO MUCH. It is a rule which will apply to food, +exercise, labor, sleep, and, in short, to every part of life. This is +not so very difficult a matter if one begins in good season and forms +regular habits. But what if I should lay down the rule, Be cheerful; +take all the troubles and trials of life with perfect equanimity and a +smiling countenance? Admirable directions! Your friend, the +curly-haired blonde, with florid complexion, round cheeks, the best +possible digestion and respiration, the stomach of an ostrich and the +lungs of a pearl-diver, finds it perfectly easy to carry them into +practice. You, of leaden complexion, with black and lank hair, lean, +hollow-eyed, dyspeptic, nervous, find it not so easy to be always +hilarious and happy. The truth is that the persons of that buoyant +disposition which comes always heralded by a smile, as a yacht driven by +a favoring breeze carries a wreath of sparkling foam before her, are born +with their happiness ready made. They cannot help being cheerful any +more than their saturnine fellow-mortal can help seeing everything +through the cloud he carries with him. I give you the precept, then, Be +cheerful, for just what it is worth, as I would recommend to you to be +six feet, or at least five feet ten, in stature. You cannot settle that +matter for yourself, but you can stand up straight, and give your five +feet five its--full value. You can help along a little by wearing +high-heeled shoes. So you can do something to encourage yourself in +serenity of aspect and demeanor, keeping your infirmities and troubles in +the background instead of making them the staple of your conversation. +This piece of advice, if followed, may be worth from three to five years +of the fourscore which you hope to attain. + +If, on the other hand, instead of going about cheerily in society, making +the best of everything and as far as possible forgetting your troubles, +you can make up your mind to economize all your stores of vital energy, +to hoard your life as a miser hoards his money, you will stand a fair +chance of living until you are tired of life,--fortunate if everybody is +not tired of you. + +One of my prescriptions for longevity may startle you somewhat. It is +this: Become the subject of a mortal disease. Let half a dozen doctors +thump you, and knead you, and test you in every possible way, and render +their verdict that you have an internal complaint; they don't know +exactly what it is, but it will certainly kill you by and by. Then bid +farewell to the world and shut yourself up for an invalid. If you are +threescore years old when you begin this mode of life, you may very +probably last twenty years, and there you are,--an octogenarian. In the +mean time, your friends outside have been dropping off, one after +another, until you find yourself almost alone, nursing your mortal +complaint as if it were your baby, hugging it and kept alive by it,--if +to exist is to live. Who has not seen cases like this,--a man or a woman +shutting himself or herself up, visited by a doctor or a succession of +doctors (I remember that once, in my earlier experience, I was the +twenty-seventh physician who had been consulted), always taking medicine, +until everybody was reminded of that impatient speech of a relative of +one of these invalid vampires who live on the blood of tired-out +attendants, "I do wish she would get well--or something"? Persons who +are shut up in that way, confined to their chambers, sometimes to their +beds, have a very small amount of vital expenditure, and wear out very +little of their living substance. They are like lamps with half their +wicks picked down, and will continue to burn when other lamps have used +up all their oil. An insurance office might make money by taking no +risks except on lives of persons suffering from mortal disease. It is on +this principle of economizing the powers of life that a very eminent +American physician,--Dr. Weir Mitchell, a man of genius,--has founded his +treatment of certain cases of nervous exhaustion. + +What have I got to say about temperance, the use of animal food, and so +forth? These are questions asked me. Nature has proved a wise teacher, +as I think, in my own case. The older I grow, the less use I make of +alcoholic stimulants. In fact, I hardly meddle with them at all, except +a glass or two of champagne occasionally. I find that by far the best +borne of all drinks containing alcohol. I do not suppose my experience +can be the foundation of a universal rule. Dr. Holyoke, who lived to be +a hundred, used habitually, in moderate quantities, a mixture of cider, +water, and rum. I think, as one grows older, less food, especially less +animal food, is required. But old people have a right to be epicures, if +they can afford it. The pleasures of the palate are among the last +gratifications of the senses allowed them. We begin life as little +cannibals,--feeding on the flesh and blood of our mothers. We range +through all the vegetable and animal products, of nature, and I suppose, +if the second childhood could return to the food of the first, it might +prove a wholesome diet. + +What do I say to smoking? I cannot grudge an old man his pipe, but I +think tobacco often does a good deal of harm to the health,--to the eyes +especially, to the nervous system generally, producing headache, +palpitation, and trembling. I myself gave it up many years ago. +Philosophically speaking, I think self-narcotization and +self-alcoholization are rather ignoble substitutes for undisturbed +self-consciousness and unfettered self-control. + +Here is another of those brain-tapping letters, of similar character, +which I have no objection to answering at my own time and in the place +which best suits me. As the questions must be supposed to be asked with +a purely scientific and philanthropic purpose, it can make little +difference when and where they are answered. For myself, I prefer our +own tea-table to the symposia to which I am often invited. I do not +quarrel with those who invite their friends to a banquet to which many +strangers are expected to contribute. It is a very easy and pleasant way +of giving an entertainment at little cost and with no responsibility. +Somebody has been writing to me about "Oatmeal and Literature," and +somebody else wants to know whether I have found character influenced by +diet; also whether, in my opinion, oatmeal is preferable to pie as an +American national food. + +In answer to these questions, I should say that I have my beliefs and +prejudices; but if I were pressed hard for my proofs of their +correctness, I should make but a poor show in the witness-box. Most +assuredly I do believe that body and mind are much influenced by the kind +of food habitually depended upon. I am persuaded that a too exclusively +porcine diet gives a bristly character to the beard and hair, which is +borrowed from the animal whose tissues these stiff-bearded compatriots of +ours have too largely assimilated. I can never stray among the village +people of our windy capes without now and then coming upon a human being +who looks as if he had been split, salted, and dried, like the salt-fish +which has built up his arid organism. If the body is modified by the +food which nourishes it, the mind and character very certainly will be +modified by it also. We know enough of their close connection with each +other to be sure of that, without any statistical observations to prove +it. + +Do you really want to know "whether oatmeal is preferable to pie as an +American national food"? I suppose the best answer I can give to your +question is to tell you what is my own practice. Oatmeal in the morning, +as an architect lays a bed of concrete to form a base for his +superstructure. Pie when I can get it; that is, of the genuine sort, for +I am not patriotic enough to think very highly of the article named after +the Father of his Country, who was first in war, first in peace,--not +first in pies, according to my standard. + +There is a very odd prejudice against pie as an article of diet. It is +common to hear every form of bodily degeneracy and infirmity attributed +to this particular favorite food. I see no reason or sense in it. Mr. +Emerson believed in pie, and was almost indignant when a fellow-traveller +refused the slice he offered him. "Why, Mr.________," said be, "what is +pie made for!" If every Green Mountain boy has not eaten a thousand +times his weight in apple, pumpkin, squash, and mince pie, call me a +dumpling. And Colonel Ethan Allen was one of them,--Ethan Allen, who, as +they used to say, could wrench off the head of a wrought nail with his +teeth. + +If you mean to keep as well as possible, the less you think about your +health the better. You know enough not to eat or drink what you have +found does not agree with you. You ought to know enough not to expose +yourself needlessly to draughts. If you take a "constitutional," walk +with the wind when you can, and take a closed car against it if you can +get one. Walking against the wind is one of the most dangerous kinds of +exposure, if you are sensitive to cold. But except a few simple rules +such as I have just given, let your health take care of itself so long as +it behaves decently. If you want to be sure not to reach threescore and +twenty, get a little box of homoeopathic pellets and a little book of +homeopathic prescriptions. I had a poor friend who fell into that way, +and became at last a regular Hahnemaniac. He left a box of his little +jokers, which at last came into my hands. The poor fellow had cultivated +symptoms as other people cultivate roses or chrysanthemums. What a +luxury of choice his imagination presented to him! When one watches for +symptoms, every organ in the body is ready to put in its claim. By and +by a real illness attacked him, and the box of little pellets was shut +up, to minister to his fancied evils no longer. + +Let me tell you one thing. I think if patients and physicians were in +the habit of recognizing the fact I am going to mention, both would be +gainers. The law I refer to must be familiar to all observing +physicians, and to all intelligent persons who have observed their own +bodily and mental conditions. This is the curve of health. It is a +mistake to suppose that the normal state of health is represented by a +straight horizontal line. Independently of the well-known causes which +raise or depress the standard of vitality, there seems to be,--I think I +may venture to say there is,--a rhythmic undulation in the flow of the +vital force. The "dynamo" which furnishes the working powers of +consciousness and action has its annual, its monthly, its diurnal waves, +even its momentary ripples, in the current it furnishes. There are +greater and lesser curves in the movement of every day's life,--a series +of ascending and descending movements, a periodicity depending on the +very nature of the force at work in the living organism. Thus we have +our good seasons and our bad seasons, our good days and our bad days, +life climbing and descending in long or short undulations, which I have +called the curve of health. + +From this fact spring a great proportion of the errors of medical +practice. On it are based the delusions of the various shadowy systems +which impose themselves on the ignorant and half-learned public as +branches or "schools" of science. A remedy taken at the time of the +ascent in the curve of health is found successful. The same remedy taken +while the curve is in its downward movement proves a failure. + +So long as this biological law exists, so long the charlatan will keep +his hold on the ignorant public. So long as it exists, the wisest +practitioner will be liable to deceive himself about the effect of what +he calls and loves to think are his remedies. Long-continued and +sagacious observation will to some extent undeceive him; but were it not +for the happy illusion that his useless or even deleterious drugs were +doing good service, many a practitioner would give up his calling for one +in which he could be more certain that he was really being useful to the +subjects of his professional dealings. For myself, I should prefer a +physician of a sanguine temperament, who had a firm belief in himself and +his methods. I do not wonder at all that the public support a whole +community of pretenders who show the portraits of the patients they have +"cured." The best physicians will tell you that, though many patients +get well under their treatment, they rarely cure anybody. If you are +told also that the best physician has many more patients die on his hands +than the worst of his fellow-practitioners, you may add these two +statements to your bundle of paradoxes, and if they puzzle you I will +explain them at some future time. + +[I take this opportunity of correcting a statement now going the rounds +of the medical and probably other periodicals. In "The Journal of the +American Medical Association," dated April 26,1890, published at Chicago, +I am reported, in quotation marks, as saying, "Give me opium, wine, and +milk, and I will cure all diseases to which flesh is heir." + +In the first place, I never said I will cure, or can cure, or would or +could cure, or had cured any disease. My venerated instructor, Dr. James +Jackson, taught me never to use that expression. Curo means, I take care +of, he used to say, and in that sense, if you mean nothing more, it is +properly employed. So, in the amphitheatre of the Ecole de Medecine, I +used to read the words of Ambroise Pare, "Je le pansay, Dieu le guarist." +(I dressed his wound, and God cured him.) Next, I am not in the habit of +talking about "the diseases to which flesh is heir." The expression has +become rather too familiar for repetition, and belongs to the rhetoric of +other latitudes. And, lastly, I have said some plain things, perhaps +some sharp ones, about the abuse of drugs and the limited number of +vitally important remedies, but I am not so ignorantly presumptuous as to +make the foolish statement falsely attributed to me.] + +I paused a minute or two, and as no one spoke out; I put a question to +the Counsellor. + +Are you quite sure that you wish to live to be threescore and twenty +years old? + +"Most certainly I do. Don't they say that Theophrastus lived to his +hundred and seventh year, and did n't he complain of the shortness of +life? At eighty a man has had just about time to get warmly settled in +his nest. Do you suppose he doesn't enjoy the quiet of that +resting-place? No more haggard responsibility to keep him awake +nights,--unless he prefers to retain his hold on offices and duties from +which he can be excused if he chooses. No more goading ambitions,--he +knows he has done his best. No more jealousies, if he were weak enough +to feel such ignoble stirrings in his more active season. An +octogenarian with a good record, and free from annoying or distressing +infirmities, ought to be the happiest of men. Everybody treats him with +deference. Everybody wants to help him. He is the ward of the +generations that have grown up since he was in the vigor of maturity. +Yes, let me live to be fourscore years, and then I will tell you whether +I should like a few more years or not." + +You carry the feelings of middle age, I said, in imagination, over into +the period of senility, and then reason and dream about it as if its +whole mode of being were like that of the earlier period of life. But how +many things there are in old age which you must live into if you would +expect to have any "realizing sense" of their significance! In the first +place, you have no coevals, or next to none. At fifty, your vessel is +stanch, and you are on deck with the rest, in all weathers. At sixty, +the vessel still floats, and you are in the cabin. At seventy, you, with +a few fellow-passengers, are on a raft. At eighty, you are on a spars to +which, possibly, one, or two, or three friends of about your own age are +still clinging. After that, you must expect soon to find yourself alone, +if you are still floating, with only a life-preserver to keep your old +white-bearded chin above the water. + +Kindness? Yes, pitying kindness, which is a bitter sweet in which the +amiable ingredient can hardly be said to predominate. How pleasant do +you think it is to have an arm offered to you when you are walking on a +level surface, where there is no chance to trip? How agreeable do you +suppose it is to have your well-meaning friends shout and screech at you, +as if you were deaf as an adder, instead of only being, as you insist, +somewhat hard of hearing? I was a little over twenty years old when I +wrote the lines which some of you may have met with, for they have been +often reprinted: + + The mossy marbles rest + On the lips that he has prest + In their bloom, + And the names he loved to hear + Have been carved for many a year + On the tomb. + +The world was a garden to me then; it is a churchyard now. + +"I thought you were one of those who looked upon old age cheerfully, and +welcomed it as a season of peace and contented enjoyment." + +I am one of those who so regard it. Those are not bitter or scalding +tears that fall from my eyes upon "the mossy marbles." The young who +left my side early in my life's journey are still with me in the +unchanged freshness and beauty of youth. Those who have long kept +company with me live on after their seeming departure, were it only by +the mere force of habit; their images are all around me, as if every +surface had been a sensitive film that photographed them; their voices +echo about me, as if they had been recorded on those unforgetting +cylinders which bring back to us the tones and accents that have +imprinted them, as the hardened sands show us the tracks of extinct +animals. The melancholy of old age has a divine tenderness in it, which +only the sad experiences of life can lend a human soul. But there is a +lower level,--that of tranquil contentment and easy acquiescence in the +conditions in which we find ourselves; a lower level, in which old age +trudges patiently when it is not using its wings. I say its wings, for +no period of life is so imaginative as that which looks to younger people +the most prosaic. The atmosphere of memory is one in which imagination +flies more easily and feels itself more at home than in the thinner ether +of youthful anticipation. I have told you some of the drawbacks of age; +I would not have you forget its privileges. When it comes down from its +aerial excursions, it has much left to enjoy on the humble plane of +being. And so you think you would like to become an octogenarian? "I +should," said the Counsellor, now a man in the high noon of bodily and +mental vigor. "Four more--yes, five more--decades would not be too much, +I think. And how much I should live to see in that time! I am glad you +have laid down some rules by which a man may reasonably expect to leap +the eight barred gate. I won't promise to obey them all, though." + +Among the questions addressed to me, as to a large number of other +persons, are the following. I take them from "The American Hebrew" of +April 4, 1890. I cannot pretend to answer them all, but I can say +something about one or two of them. + +"I. Can you, of your own personal experience, find any justification +whatever for the entertainment of prejudice towards individuals solely +because they are Jews? + +"II. Is this prejudice not due largely to the religious instruction that +is given by the church acid Sunday-school? For instance, the teachings +that the Jews crucified Jesus; that they rejected him, and can only +secure salvation by belief in him, and similar matters that are +calculated to excite in the impressionable mind of the child an aversion, +if not a loathing, for members of 'the despised race.' + +"III. Have you observed in the social or business life of the Jew, so +far as your personal experience has gone, any different standard of +conduct than prevails among Christians of the same social status? + +"IV. Can you suggest what should be done to dispel the existing +prejudice?" + +As to the first question, I have had very slight acquaintance with the +children of Israel. I shared more or less the prevailing prejudices +against the persecuted race. I used to read in my hymn-book,--I hope I +quote correctly,-- + + "See what a living stone + The builders did refuse! + Yet God has built his church thereon, + In spite of envious Jews." + +I grew up inheriting the traditional idea that they were a race lying +under a curse for their obstinacy in refusing the gospel. Like other +children of New England birth, I walked in the narrow path of Puritan +exclusiveness. The great historical church of Christendom was presented +to me as Bunyan depicted it: one of the two giants sitting at the door of +their caves, with the bones, of pilgrims scattered about them, and +grinning at the travellers whom they could no longer devour. In the +nurseries of old-fashioned Orthodoxy there was one religion in the +world,--one religion, and a multitude of detestable, literally damnable +impositions, believed in by uncounted millions, who were doomed to +perdition for so believing. The Jews were the believers in one of these +false religions. It had been true once, but was now a pernicious and +abominable lie. The principal use of the Jews seemed to be to lend +money, and to fulfil the predictions of the old prophets of their race. + +No doubt the individual sons of Abraham whom we found in our ill-favored +and ill-flavored streets were apt to be unpleasing specimens of the race. +It was against the most adverse influences of legislation, of religious +feeling, of social repugnance, that the great names of Jewish origin made +themselves illustrious; that the philosophers, the musicians, the +financiers, the statesmen, of the last centuries forced the world to +recognize and accept them. Benjamin, the son of Isaac, a son of Israel, +as his family name makes obvious, has shown how largely Jewish blood has +been represented in the great men and women of modern days. + +There are two virtues which Christians have found it very hard to +exemplify in practice. These are modesty and civility. The Founder of +the Christian religion appeared among a people accustomed to look for a +Messiah, a special ambassador from heaven, with an authoritative message. +They were intimately acquainted with every expression having reference to +this divine messenger. They had a religion of their own, about which +Christianity agrees with Judaism in asserting that it was of divine +origin. It is a serious fact, to which we do not give all the attention +it deserves, that this divinely instructed people were not satisfied with +the evidence that the young Rabbi who came to overthrow their ancient +church and found a new one was a supernatural being. "We think he was a +great Doctor," said a Jewish companion with whom I was conversing. He +meant a great Teacher, I presume, though healing the sick was one of his +special offices. Instead of remembering that they were entitled to form +their own judgment of the new Teacher, as they had judged of Hillel and +other great instructors, Christians, as they called themselves, have +insulted, calumniated, oppressed, abased, outraged, "the chosen race" +during the long succession of centuries since the Jewish contemporaries +of the Founder of Christianity made up their minds that he did not meet +the conditions required by the subject of the predictions of their +Scriptures. The course of the argument against them is very briefly and +effectively stated by Mr. Emerson: + +"This was Jehovah come down out of heaven. I will kill you if you say he +was a man." + +It seems as if there should be certain laws of etiquette regulating the +relation of different religions to each other. It is not civil for a +follower of Mahomet to call his neighbor of another creed a "Christian +dog." Still more, there should be something like politeness in the +bearing of Christian sects toward each other, and of believers in the new +dispensation toward those who still adhere to the old. We are in the +habit of allowing a certain arrogant assumption to our Roman Catholic +brethren. We have got used to their pretensions. They may call us +"heretics," if they like. They may speak of us as "infidels," if they +choose, especially if they say it in Latin. So long as there is no +inquisition, so long as there is no auto da fe, we do not mind the hard +words much; and we have as good phrases to give them back: the Man of Sin +and the Scarlet Woman will serve for examples. But it is better to be +civil to each other all round. I doubt if a convert to the religion of +Mahomet was ever made by calling a man a Christian dog. I doubt if a +Hebrew ever became a good Christian if the baptismal rite was performed +by spitting on his Jewish gabardine. I have often thought of the advance +in comity and true charity shown in the title of my late honored friend +James Freeman Clarke's book, "The Ten Great Religions." If the creeds of +mankind try to understand each other before attempting mutual +extermination, they will be sure to find a meaning in beliefs which are +different from their own. The old Calvinistic spirit was almost savagely +exclusive. While the author of the "Ten Great Religions" was growing up +in Boston under the benignant, large-minded teachings of the Rev. James +Freeman, the famous Dr. John M. Mason, at New York, was fiercely +attacking the noble humanity of "The Universal Prayer." "In preaching," +says his biographer, "he once quoted Pope's lines as to God's being +adored alike 'by saint, by savage, and by sage,' and pronounced it (in +his deepest guttural) 'the most damnable lie.'" + +What could the Hebrew expect when a Christian preacher could use such +language about a petition breathing the very soul of humanity? Happily, +the true human spirit is encroaching on that arrogant and narrow-minded +form of selfishness which called itself Christianity. + +The golden rule should govern us in dealing with those whom we call +unbelievers, with heathen, and with all who do not accept our religious +views. The Jews are with us as a perpetual lesson to teach us modesty +and civility. The religion we profess is not self-evident. It did not +convince the people to whom it was sent. We have no claim to take it for +granted that we are all right, and they are all wrong. And, therefore, +in the midst of all the triumphs of Christianity, it is well that the +stately synagogue should lift its walls by the side of the aspiring +cathedral, a perpetual reminder that there are many mansions in the +Father's earthly house as well as in the heavenly one; that civilized +humanity, longer in time and broader in space than any historical form of +belief, is mightier than any one institution or organization it includes. + +Many years ago I argued with myself the proposition which my Hebrew +correspondent has suggested. Recognizing the fact that I was born to a +birthright of national and social prejudices against "the chosen +people,"--chosen as the object of contumely and abuse by the rest of the +world,--I pictured my own inherited feelings of aversion in all their +intensity, and the strain of thought under the influence of which those +prejudices gave way to a more human, a more truly Christian feeling of +brotherhood. I must ask your indulgence while I quote a few verses from +a poem of my own, printed long ago under the title "At the Pantomime." + +I was crowded between two children of Israel, and gave free inward +expression to my feelings. All at once I happened to look more closely +at one of my neighbors, and saw that the youth was the very ideal of the +Son of Mary. + + A fresh young cheek whose olive hue + The mantling blood shows faintly through; + Locks dark as midnight, that divide + And shade the neck on either side; + Soft, gentle, loving eyes that gleam + Clear as a starlit mountain stream; + So looked that other child of Shem, + The Maiden's Boy of Bethlehem! + + --And thou couldst scorn the peerless blood + That flows unmingled from the Flood, + Thy scutcheon spotted with the stains + Of Norman thieves and pirate Danes! + The New World's foundling, in thy pride + Scowl on the Hebrew at thy side, + And lo! the very semblance there + The Lord of Glory deigned to wear! + + I see that radiant image rise, + The flowing hair, the pitying eyes, + The faintly crimsoned cheek that shows + The blush of Sharon's opening rose, + Thy hands would clasp his hallowed feet + Whose brethren soil thy Christian seat, + Thy lips would press his garment's hem + That curl in wrathful scorn for them! + + A sudden mist, a watery screen, + Dropped like a veil before the scene; + The shadow floated from my soul, + And to my lips a whisper stole: + --Thy prophets caught the Spirit's flame, + From thee the Son of Mary came, + With thee the Father deigned to dwell, + Peace be upon thee, Israel! + +It is not to be expected that intimate relations will be established +between Jewish and Christian communities until both become so far +rationalized and humanized that their differences are comparatively +unimportant. But already there is an evident approximation in the +extreme left of what is called liberal Christianity and the +representatives of modern Judaism. The life of a man like the late Sir +Moses Montefiore reads a lesson from the Old Testament which might well +have been inspired by the noblest teachings of the Christian Gospels. + + Delilah, and how she got her name. + +Est-elle bien gentille, cette petite? I said one day to Number Five, as +our pretty Delilah put her arm between us with a bunch of those tender +early radishes that so recall the rosy-fingered morning of Homer. The +little hand which held the radishes would not have shamed Aurora. That +hand has never known drudgery, I feel sure. + +When I spoke those French words our little Delilah gave a slight, +seemingly involuntary start, and her cheeks grew of as bright a red as +her radishes. Ah, said I to myself; does that young girl understand +French? It may be worth while to be careful what one says before her. + +There is a mystery about this girl. She seems to know her place +perfectly,--except, perhaps, when she burst out crying, the other day, +which was against all the rules of table-maiden's etiquette,--and yet she +looks as if she had been born to be waited on, and not to perform that +humble service for others. We know that once in a while girls with +education and well connected take it into their heads to go into service +for a few weeks or months. Sometimes it is from economic motives,--to +procure means for their education, or to help members of their families +who need assistance. At any rate, they undertake the lighter menial +duties of some household where they are not known, and, having +stooped--if stooping it is to be considered--to lowly offices, no born +and bred servants are more faithful to all their obligations. You must +not suppose she was christened Delilah. Any of our ministers would +hesitate to give such a heathen name to a Christian child. + +The way she came to get it was this: The Professor was going to give a +lecture before an occasional audience, one evening. When he took his +seat with the other Teacups, the American Annex whispered to the other +Annex, "His hair wants cutting,--it looks like fury." "Quite so," said +the English Annex. "I wish you would tell him so,--I do, awfully." +"I'll fix it," said the American girl. So, after the teacups were +emptied and the company had left the table, she went up to the Professor. +"You read this lecture, don't you, Professor?" she said. "I do," he +answered. "I should think that lock of hair which falls down over your +forehead would trouble you," she said. "It does sometimes," replied the +Professor. "Let our little maid trim it for you. You're equal to that, +aren't you?" turning to the handmaiden. "I always used to cut my father's +hair," she answered. She brought a pair of glittering shears, and before +she would let the Professor go she had trimmed his hair and beard as they +had not been dealt with for many a day. Everybody said the Professor +looked ten years younger. After that our little handmaiden was always +called Delilah, among the talking Teacups. + +The Mistress keeps a watchful eye on this young girl. I should not be +surprised to find that she was carrying out some ideal, some fancy or +whim,--possibly nothing more, but springing from some generous, youthful +impulse. Perhaps she is working for that little sister at the Blind +Asylum. Where did she learn French? She did certainly blush, and +betrayed every sign of understanding the words spoken about her in that +language. Sometimes she sings while at her work, and we have all been +struck with the pure, musical character of her voice. It is just such a +voice as ought to come from that round white throat. We made a discovery +about it the other evening. + +The Mistress keeps a piano in her room, and we have sometimes had music +in the evening. One of The Teacups, to whom I have slightly referred, is +an accomplished pianist, and the two Annexes sing very sweetly +together,--the American girl having a clear soprano voice, the English +girl a mellow contralto. They had sung several tunes, when the Mistress +rang for Avis,--for that is our Delilah's real name. She whispered to +the young girl, who blushed and trembled. "Don't be frightened," said the +Mistress encouragingly. "I have heard you singing 'Too Young for Love,' +and I will get our pianist to play it. The young ladies both know it, +and you must join in." + +The two voices, with the accompaniment, had hardly finished the first +line when a pure, ringing, almost childlike voice joined the vocal duet. +The sound of her own voice seemed to make her forget her fears, and she +warbled as naturally and freely as any young bird of a May morning. +Number Five came in while she was singing, and when she got through +caught her in her arms and kissed her, as if she were her sister, and not +Delilah, our table-maid. Number Five is apt to forget herself and those +social differences to which some of us attach so much importance. This +is the song in which the little maid took part: + + TOO YOUNG FOR LOVE. + + Too young for love? + Ah, say not so! + Tell reddening rose-buds not to blow! + Wait not for spring to pass away, + --Love's summer months begin with May! + Too young for love? + Ah, say not so! + Too young? Too young? + Ah, no! no! no! + + Too young for love? + Ah, say not so, + While daisies bloom and tulips glow! + June soon will come with lengthened day + To practise all love learned in May. + Too young for love? + Ah, say not so! + Too young? Too young? + Ah, no! no! no! + + + + +IX + +I often wish that our Number Seven could have known and corresponded with +the author of "The Budget of Paradoxes." I think Mr. De Morgan would +have found some of his vagaries and fancies not undeserving of a place in +his wonderful collection of eccentricities, absurdities, +ingenuities,--mental freaks of all sorts. But I think he would have now +and then recognized a sound idea, a just comparison, a suggestive hint, a +practical notion, which redeemed a page of extravagances and crotchety +whims. I confess that I am often pleased with fancies of his, and should +be willing to adopt them as my own. I think he has, in the midst of his +erratic and tangled conceptions, some perfectly clear and consistent +trains of thought. + +So when Number Seven spoke of sending us a paper, I welcomed the +suggestion. I asked him whether he had any objection to my looking it +over before he read it. My proposal rather pleased him, I thought, for, +as was observed on a former occasion, he has in connection with a belief +in himself another side,--a curious self-distrust. I have no question +that he has an obscure sense of some mental deficiency. Thus you may +expect from him first a dogma, and presently a doubt. If you fight his +dogma, he will do battle for it stoutly; if you let him alone, he will +very probably explain its extravagances, if it has any, and tame it into +reasonable limits. Sometimes he is in one mood, sometimes in another. + +The first portion of what we listened to shows him at his best; in the +latter part I am afraid you will think he gets a little wild. + +I proceed to lay before you the paper which Number Seven read to The +Teacups. There was something very pleasing in the deference which was +shown him. We all feel that there is a crack in the teacup, and are +disposed to handle it carefully. I have left out a few things which he +said, feeling that they might give offence to some of the company. There +were sentences so involved and obscure that I was sure they would not be +understood, if indeed he understood them himself. But there are other +passages so entirely sane, and as it seems to me so just, that if any +reader attributes them to me I shall not think myself wronged by the +supposition. You must remember that Number Seven has had a fair +education, that he has been a wide reader in many directions, and that he +belongs to a family of remarkable intellectual gifts. So it was not +surprising that he said some things which pleased the company, as in fact +they did. The reader will not be startled to see a certain abruptness in +the transition from one subject to another,--it is a characteristic of +the squinting brain wherever you find it. Another curious mark rarely +wanting in the subjects of mental strabismus is an irregular and often +sprawling and deformed handwriting. Many and many a time I have said, +after glancing at the back of a letter, "This comes from an insane +asylum, or from an eccentric who might well be a candidate for such an +institution." Number Seven's manuscript, which showed marks of my +corrections here and there, furnished good examples of the chirography of +persons with ill-mated cerebral hemispheres. But the earlier portions of +the manuscript are of perfectly normal appearance. + +Conticuere omnes, as Virgil says. We were all silent as Number Seven +began the reading of his paper. + + Number Seven reads. + +I am the seventh son of a seventh son, as I suppose you all know. It is +commonly believed that some extraordinary gifts belong to the fortunate +individuals born under these exceptional conditions. However this may be, +a peculiar virtue was supposed to dwell in me from my earliest years. My +touch was believed to have the influence formerly attributed to that of +the kings and queens of England. You may remember that the great Dr. +Samuel Johnson, when a child, was carried to be touched by her Majesty +Queen Anne for the "king's evil," as scrofula used to be called. Our +honored friend The Dictator will tell you that the brother of one of his +Andover schoolmates was taken to one of these gifted persons, who touched +him, and hung a small bright silver coin, either a "fourpence ha'penny" +or a "ninepence," about his neck, which, strange to say, after being worn +a certain time, became tarnished, and finally black,--a proof of the +poisonous matters which had become eliminated from the system and +gathered upon the coin. I remember that at one time I used to carry +fourpence ha'pennies with holes bored through them, which I furnished to +children or to their mothers, under pledges of secrecy,--receiving a +piece of silver of larger dimensions in exchange. I never felt quite +sure about any extraordinary endowment being a part of my inheritance in +virtue of my special conditions of birth. A phrenologist, who examined +my head when I was a boy, said the two sides were unlike. My hatter's +measurement told me the same thing; but in looking over more than a +bushel of the small cardboard hat-patterns which give the exact shape of +the head, I have found this is not uncommon. The phrenologist made all +sorts of predictions of what I should be and do, which proved about as +near the truth as those recorded in Miss Edith Thomas's charming little +poem, "Augury," which some of us were reading the other day. + +I have never been through college, but I had a relative who was famous as +a teacher of rhetoric in one of our universities, and especially for +taking the nonsense out of sophomorical young fellows who could not say +anything without rigging it up in showy and sounding phrases. I think I +learned from him to express myself in good old-fashioned English, and +without making as much fuss about it as our Fourth of July orators and +political haranguers were in the habit of making. + +I read a good many stories during my boyhood, one of which left a lasting +impression upon me, and which I have always commended to young people. +It is too late, generally, to try to teach old people, yet one may profit +by it at any period of life before the sight has become too dim to be of +any use. The story I refer to is in "Evenings at Home," and is called +"Eyes and No Eyes." I ought to have it by me, but it is constantly +happening that the best old things get overlaid by the newest trash; and +though I have never seen anything of the kind half so good, my table and +shelves are cracking with the weight of involuntary accessions to my +library. + +This is the story as I remember it: Two children walk out, and are +questioned when they come home. One has found nothing to observe, +nothing to admire, nothing to describe, nothing to ask questions about. +The other has found everywhere objects of curiosity and interest. I +advise you, if you are a child anywhere under forty-five, and do not yet +wear glasses, to send at once for "Evenings at Home" and read that story. +For myself, I am always grateful to the writer of it for calling my +attention to common things. How many people have been waked to a quicker +consciousness of life by Wordsworth's simple lines about the daffodils, +and what he says of the thoughts suggested to him by "the meanest flower +that blows"! + +I was driving with a friend, the other day, through a somewhat dreary +stretch of country, where there seemed to be very little to attract +notice or deserve remark. Still, the old spirit infused by "Eyes and No +Eyes" was upon me, and I looked for something to fasten my thought upon, +and treat as an artist treats a study for a picture. The first object to +which my eyes were drawn was an old-fashioned well-sweep. It did not take +much imaginative sensibility to be stirred by the sight of this most +useful, most ancient, most picturesque, of domestic conveniences. I know +something of the shadoof of Egypt,--the same arrangement by which the +sacred waters of the Nile have been lifted, from the days of the Pharaohs +to those of the Khedives. That long forefinger pointing to heaven was a +symbol which spoke to the Puritan exile as it spoke of old to the +enslaved Israelite. Was there ever any such water as that which we used +to draw from the deep, cold well, in "the old oaken bucket"? What +memories gather about the well in all ages! What love-matches have been +made at its margin, from the times of Jacob and, Rachel downward! What +fairy legends hover over it, what fearful mysteries has it hidden! The +beautiful well-sweep! It is too rarely that we see it, and as it dies +out and gives place to the odiously convenient pump, with the last patent +on its cast-iron uninterestingness, does it not seem as if the farmyard +aspect had lost half its attraction? So long as the dairy farm exists, +doubtless there must be every facility for getting water in abundance; +but the loss of the well-sweep cannot be made up to us even if our milk +were diluted to twice its present attenuation. + +The well-sweep had served its turn, and my companion and I relapsed into +silence. After a while we passed another farmyard, with nothing which +seemed deserving of remark except the wreck of an old wagon. + +"Look," I said, "if you want to see one of the greatest of all the +triumphs of human ingenuity, one of the most beautiful, as it is one of +the most useful, of all the mechanisms which the intelligence of +successive ages has called into being." + +"I see nothing," my companion answered, "but an old broken-down wagon. +Why they leave such a piece of lumbering trash about their place, where +people can see it as they pass, is more than I can account for." + +"And yet," said I, "there is one of the most extraordinary products of +human genius and skill,--an object which combines the useful and the +beautiful to an extent which hardly any simple form of mechanism can +pretend to rival. Do you notice how, while everything else has gone to +smash, that wheel remains sound and fit for service? Look at it merely +for its beauty. + +"See the perfect circles, the outer and the inner. A circle is in itself +a consummate wonder of geometrical symmetry. It is the line in which the +omnipotent energy delights to move. There is no fault in it to be +amended. The first drawn circle and the last both embody the same +complete fulfillment of a perfect design. Then look at the rays which +pass from the inner to the outer circle. How beautifully they bring the +greater and lesser circles into connection with each other! The flowers +know that secret,--the marguerite in the meadow displays it as clearly as +the great sun in heaven. How beautiful is this flower of wood and iron, +which we were ready to pass by without wasting a look upon it! But its +beauty is only the beginning of its wonderful claim upon us for our +admiration. Look at that field of flowering grass, the triticum +vulgare,--see how its waves follow the breeze in satiny alternations of +light and shadow. You admire it for its lovely aspect; but when you +remember that this flowering grass is wheat, the finest food of the +highest human races, it gains a dignity, a glory, that its beauty alone +could not give it. + +"Now look at that exquisite structure lying neglected and disgraced, but +essentially unchanged in its perfection, before you. That slight and +delicate-looking fabric has stood such a trial as hardly any slender +contrivance, excepting always the valves of the heart, was ever subjected +to. It has rattled for years over the cobble-stones of a rough city +pavement. It has climbed over all the accidental obstructions it met in +the highway, and dropped into all the holes and deep ruts that made the +heavy farmer sitting over it use his Sunday vocabulary in a week-day form +of speech. At one time or another, almost every part of that old wagon +has given way. It has had two new pairs of shafts. Twice the axle has +broken off close to the hub, or nave. The seat broke when Zekle and +Huldy were having what they called 'a ride' together. The front was +kicked in by a vicious mare. The springs gave way and the floor bumped +on the axle. Every portion of the wagon became a prey of its special +accident, except that most fragile looking of all its parts, the wheel. +Who can help admiring the exact distribution of the power of resistance +at the least possible expenditure of material which is manifested in this +wondrous triumph of human genius and skill? The spokes are planted in +the solid hub as strongly as the jaw-teeth of a lion in their deep-sunken +sockets. Each spoke has its own territory in the circumference, for +which it is responsible. According to the load the vehicle is expected +to carry, they are few or many, stout or slender, but they share their +joint labor with absolute justice,--not one does more, not one does less, +than its just proportion. The outer end of the spokes is received into +the deep mortise of the wooden fellies, and the structure appears to be +complete. But how long would it take to turn that circle into a polygon, +unless some mighty counteracting force should prevent it? See the iron +tire brought hot from the furnace and laid around the smoking +circumference. Once in place, the workman cools the hot iron; and as it +shrinks with a force that seems like a hand-grasp of the Omnipotent, it +clasps the fitted fragments of the structure, and compresses them into a +single inseparable whole. + +"Was it not worth our while to stop a moment before passing that old +broken wagon, and see whether we could not find as much in it as Swift +found in his 'Meditations on a Broomstick'? I have been laughed at for +making so much of such a common thing as a wheel. Idiots! Solomon's +court fool would have scoffed at the thought of the young Galilean who +dared compare the lilies of the field to his august master. Nil admirari +is very well for a North American Indian and his degenerate successor, +who has grown too grand to admire anything but himself, and takes a +cynical pride in his stolid indifference to everything worth reverencing +or honoring." + +After calling my companion's attention to the wheel, and discoursing upon +it until I thought he was getting sleepy, we jogged along until we came +to a running stream. It was crossed by a stone bridge of a single arch. +There are very few stone arches over the streams in New England country +towns, and I always delighted in this one. It was built in the last +century, amidst the doubting predictions of staring rustics, and stands +to-day as strong as ever, and seemingly good for centuries to come. + +"See there!" said I,--"there is another of my 'Eyes and No Eyes' subjects +to meditate upon. Next to the wheel, the arch is the noblest of those +elementary mechanical composites, corresponding to the proximate +principles of chemistry. The beauty of the arch consists first in its +curve, commonly a part of the circle, of the perfection of which I have +spoken. But the mind derives another distinct pleasure from the +admirable manner in which the several parts, each different from all the +others, contribute to a single harmonious effect. It is a typical +example of the piu nel uno. An arch cut out or a single stone would not +be so beautiful as one of which each individual stone was shaped for its +exact position. Its completion by the locking of the keystone is a +delight to witness and to contemplate. And how the arch endures, when +its lateral thrust is met by solid masses of resistance! In one of the +great temples of Baalbec a keystone has slipped, but how rare is that +occurrence! One will hardly find another such example among all the +ruins of antiquity. Yes, I never get tired of arches. They are noble +when shaped of solid marble blocks, each carefully beveled for its +position. They are beautiful when constructed with the large thin tiles +the Romans were so fond of using. I noticed some arches built in this +way in the wall of one of the grand houses just going up on the bank of +the river. They were over the capstones of the windows,--to take off the +pressure from them, no doubt, for now and then a capstone will crack +under the weight of the superincumbent mass. How close they fit, and how +striking the effect of their long radiations!" + +The company listened very well up to this point. When he began the +strain of thoughts which follows, a curious look went round The Teacups. + +What a strange underground life is that which is led by the organisms we +call trees! These great fluttering masses of leaves, stems, boughs, +trunks, are not the real trees. They live underground, and what we see +are nothing more nor less than their tails. + +The Mistress dropped her teaspoon. Number Five looked at the Doctor, +whose face was very still and sober. The two Annexes giggled, or came +very near it. + +Yes, a tree is an underground creature, with its tail in the air. All its +intelligence is in its roots. All the senses it has are in its roots. +Think what sagacity it shows in its search after food and drink! Somehow +or other, the rootlets, which are its tentacles, find out that there is a +brook at a moderate distance from the trunk of the tree, and they make +for it with all their might. They find every crack in the rocks where +there are a few grains of the nourishing substance they care for, and +insinuate themselves into its deepest recesses. When spring and summer +come, they let their tails grow, and delight in whisking them about in +the wind, or letting them be whisked about by it; for these tails are +poor passive things, with very little will of their own, and bend in +whatever direction the wind chooses to make them. The leaves make a deal +of noise whispering. I have sometimes thought I could understand them, +as they talk with each other, and that they seemed to think they made the +wind as they wagged forward and back. Remember what I say. The next +time you see a tree waving in the wind, recollect that it is the tail of +a great underground, many-armed, polypus-like creature, which is as proud +of its caudal appendage, especially in summer-time, as a peacock of his +gorgeous expanse of plumage. + +Do you think there is anything so very odd about this idea? Once get it +well into your heads, and you will find it renders the landscape +wonderfully interesting. There are as many kinds of tree-tails as there +are of tails to dogs and other quadrupeds. Study them as Daddy Gilpin +studied them in his "Forest Scenery," but don't forget that they are only +the appendage of the underground vegetable polypus, the true organism to +which they belong. + +He paused at this point, and we all drew long breaths, wondering what was +coming next. There was no denying it, the "cracked Teacup" was clinking +a little false,--so it seemed to the company. Yet, after all, the fancy +was not delirious,--the mind could follow it well enough; let him go on. + +What do you say to this? You have heard all sorts of things said in +prose and verse about Niagara. Ask our young Doctor there what it +reminds him of. Is n't it a giant putting his tongue out? How can you +fail to see the resemblance? The continent is a great giant, and the +northern half holds the head and shoulders. You can count the pulse of +the giant wherever the tide runs up a creek; but if you want to look at +the giant's tongue, you must go to Niagara. If there were such a thing +as a cosmic physician, I believe he could tell the state of the country's +health, and the prospects of the mortality for the coming season, by +careful inspection of the great tongue, which Niagara is putting out for +him, and has been showing to mankind ever since the first flint-shapers +chipped their arrow-heads. You don't think the idea adds to the +sublimity and associations of the cataract? I am sorry for that, but I +can't help the suggestion. It is just as manifestly a tongue put out for +inspection as if it had Nature's own label to that effect hung over it. +I don't know whether you can see these things as clearly as I do. There +are some people that never see anything, if it is as plain as a hole in a +grindstone, until it is pointed out to them; and some that can't see it +then, and won't believe there is any hole till they've poked their finger +through it. I've got a great many things to thank God for, but perhaps +most of all that I can find something to admire, to wonder at, to set my +fancy going, and to wind up my enthusiasm pretty much everywhere. + +Look here! There are crowds of people whirled through our streets on +these new-fashioned cars, with their witch-broomsticks overhead,--if they +don't come from Salem, they ought to,--and not more than one in a dozen +of these fish-eyed bipeds thinks or cares a nickel's worth about the +miracle which is wrought for their convenience. They know that without +hands or feet, without horses, without steam, so far as they can see, +they are transported from place to place, and that there is nothing to +account for it except the witch-broomstick and the iron or copper cobweb +which they see stretched above them. What do they know or care about +this last revelation of the omnipresent spirit of the material universe? +We ought to go down on our knees when one of these mighty caravans, car +after car, spins by us, under the mystic impulse which seems to know not +whether its train is loaded or empty. We are used to force in the +muscles of horses, in the expansive potency of steam, but here we have +force stripped stark naked,--nothing but a filament to cover its +nudity,--and yet showing its might in efforts that would task the +working-beam of a ponderous steam-engine. I am thankful that in an age +of cynicism I have not lost my reverence. Perhaps you would wonder to +see how some very common sights impress me. I always take off my hat if +I stop to speak to a stone-cutter at his work. "Why?" do you ask me? +Because I know that his is the only labor that is likely to endure. A +score of centuries has not effaced the marks of the Greek's or the +Roman's chisel on his block of marble. And now, before this new +manifestation of that form of cosmic vitality which we call electricity, +I feel like taking the posture of the peasants listening to the Angelus. +How near the mystic effluence of mechanical energy brings us to the +divine source of all power and motion! In the old mythology, the right +hand of Jove held and sent forth the lightning. So, in the record of the +Hebrew prophets, did the right hand of Jehovah cast forth and direct it. +Was Nahum thinking of our far-off time when he wrote, "The chariots shall +rage in the streets, they shall justle one against another in the broad +ways: they shall seem like torches, they shall run like the lightnings"? + +Number Seven had finished reading his paper. Two bright spots in his +cheeks showed that he had felt a good deal in writing it, and the flush +returned as he listened to his own thoughts. Poor old fellow! The +"cracked Teacup" of our younger wits,--not yet come to their full human +sensibilities,--the "crank" of vulgar tongues, the eccentric, the seventh +son of a seventh son, too often made the butt of thoughtless pleasantry, +was, after all, a fellow-creature, with flesh and blood like the rest of +us. The wild freaks of his fancy did not hurt us, nor did they prevent +him from seeing many things justly, and perhaps sometimes more vividly +and acutely than if he were as sound as the dullest of us. + +The teaspoons tinkled loudly all round the table, as he finished reading. +The Mistress caught her breath. I was afraid she was going to sob, but +she took it out in vigorous stirring of her tea. Will you believe that I +saw Number Five, with a sweet, approving smile on her face all the time, +brush her cheek with her hand-kerchief? There must have been a tear +stealing from beneath its eyelid. I hope Number Seven saw it. He is one +of the two men at our table who most need the tender looks and tones of a +woman. The Professor and I are hors de combat; the Counsellor is busy +with his cases and his ambitions; the Doctor is probably in love with a +microscope, and flirting with pathological specimens; but Number Seven +and the Tutor are, I fear, both suffering from that worst of all famines, +heart-hunger. + +Do you remember that Number Seven said he never wrote a line of "poetry" +in his life, except once when he was suffering from temporary weakness of +body and mind? That is because he is a poet. If he had not been one, he +would very certainly have taken to tinkling rhymes. What should you +think of the probable musical genius of a young man who was particularly +fond of jingling a set of sleigh-bells? Should you expect him to turn +out a Mozart or a Beethoven? Now, I think I recognize the poetical +instinct in Number Seven, however imperfect may be its expression, and +however he may be run away with at times by fantastic notions that come +into his head. If fate had allotted him a helpful companion in the shape +of a loving and intelligent wife, he might have been half cured of his +eccentricities, and we should not have had to say, in speaking of him, +"Poor fellow!" But since this cannot be, I am pleased that he should +have been so kindly treated on the occasion of the reading of his paper. +If he saw Number Five's tear, he will certainly fall in love with her. +No matter if he does Number Five is a kind of Circe who does not turn the +victims of her enchantment into swine, but into lambs. I want to see +Number Seven one of her little flock. I say "little." I suspect it is +larger than most of us know. Anyhow, she can spare him sympathy and +kindness and encouragement enough to keep him contented with himself and +with her, and never miss the pulses of her loving life she lends him. It +seems to be the errand of some women to give many people as much +happiness as they have any right to in this world. If they concentrated +their affection on one, they would give him more than any mortal could +claim as his share. I saw Number Five watering her flowers, the other +day. The watering-pot had one of those perforated heads, through which +the water runs in many small streams. Every plant got its share: the +proudest lily bent beneath the gentle shower; the lowliest daisy held its +little face up for baptism. All were refreshed, none was flooded. +Presently she took the perforated head, or "rose," from the neck of the +watering-pot, and the full stream poured out in a round, solid column. +It was almost too much for the poor geranium on which it fell, and it +looked at one minute as if the roots would be laid bare, and perhaps the +whole plant be washed out of the soil in which it was planted. What if +Number Five should take off the "rose" that sprinkles her affections on +so many, and pour them all on one? Can that ever be? If it can, life is +worth living for him on whom her love may be lavished. + +One of my neighbors, a thorough American, is much concerned about the +growth of what he calls the "hard-handed aristocracy." He tells the +following story:-- + +"I was putting up a fence about my yard, and employed a man of whom I +knew something,--that he was industrious, temperate, and that he had a +wife and children to support,--a worthy man, a native New Englander. I +engaged him, I say, to dig some post-holes. My employee bought a new +spade and scoop on purpose, and came to my place at the appointed time, +and began digging. While he was at work, two men came over from a +drinking-saloon, to which my residence is nearer than I could desire. +One of them I had known as Mike Fagan, the other as Hans Schleimer. They +looked at Hiram, my New Hampshire man, in a contemptuous and threatening +way for a minute or so, when Fagan addressed him: + +"'And how much does the man pay yez by the hour?' + +"'The gentleman does n't pay me by the hour,' said Hiram. + +"'How mosh does he bay you by der veeks?' said Hans. + +"'I don' know as that's any of your business,' answered Hiram. + +"'Faith, we'll make it our business,' said Mike Fagan. 'We're Knoights +of Labor, we'd have yez to know, and ye can't make yer bargains jist as +ye loikes. We manes to know how mony hours ye worrks, and how much ye +gets for it.' + +"'Knights of Labor!' said I. 'Why, that is a kind of title of nobility, +is n't it? I thought the laws of our country did n't allow titles of +that kind. But if you have a right to be called knights, I suppose I +ought to address you as such. Sir Michael, I congratulate you on the +dignity you have attained. I hope Lady Fagan is getting on well with my +shirts. Sir Hans, I pay my respects to your title. I trust that Lady +Schleixner has got through that little difficulty between her ladyship +and yourself in which the police court thought it necessary to +intervene.' + +"The two men looked at me. I weigh about a hundred and eighty pounds, +and am well put together. Hiram was noted in his village as a +'rahstler.' But my face is rather pallid and peaked, and Hiram had +something of the greenhorn look. The two men, who had been drinking, +hardly knew what ground to take. They rather liked the sound of Sir +Michael and, Sir Hans. They did not know very well what to make of their +wives as 'ladies.' They looked doubtful whether to take what had been +said as a casus belli or not, but they wanted a pretext of some kind or +other. Presently one of them saw a label on the scoop, or longhandled, +spoon-like shovel, with which Hiram had been working. + +"'Arrah, be jabers!' exclaimed Mike Fagan, 'but has n't he been a-tradin' +wid Brown, the hardware fellah, that we boycotted! Grab it, Hans, and +we'll carry it off and show it to the brotherhood.' + +"The men made a move toward the implement. + +"'You let that are scoop-shovel alone,' said Hiram. + +"I stepped to his side. The Knights were combative, as their noble +predecessors with the same title always were, and it was necessary to +come to a voie de fait. My straight blow from the shoulder did for Sir +Michael. Hiram treated Sir Hans to what is technically known as a +cross-buttock. + +"'Naow, Dutchman,' said Hiram, 'if you don't want to be planted in that +are post-hole, y'd better take y'rself out o' this here piece of private +property. "Dangerous passin," as the sign-posts say, abaout these +times.' + +"Sir Michael went down half stunned by my expressive gesture; Sir Hans +did not know whether his hip was out of joint or he had got a bad sprain; +but they were both out of condition for further hostilities. Perhaps it +was hardly fair to take advantage of their misfortunes to inflict a +discourse upon them, but they had brought it on themselves, and we each +of us gave them a piece of our mind. + +"'I tell you what it is,' said Hiram, 'I'm a free and independent +American citizen, and I an't a-gon' to hev no man tyrannize over me, if +he doos call himself by one o' them noblemen's titles. Ef I can't work +jes' as I choose, fur folks that wants me to work fur 'em and that I want +to work fur, I might jes' as well go to Sibery and done with it. My +gran'f'ther fit in Bunker Hill battle. I guess if our folks in them days +did n't care no great abaout Lord Percy and Sir William Haowe, we an't +a-gon' to be scart by Sir Michael Fagan and Sir Hans What 's-his-name, +nor no other fellahs that undertakes to be noblemen, and tells us common +folks what we shall dew an' what we sha'n't. No, sir!' + +"I took the opportunity to explain to Sir Michael and Sir Hans what it +was our fathers fought for, and what is the meaning of liberty. If these +noblemen did not like the country, they could go elsewhere. If they did +n't like the laws, they had the ballot-box, and could choose new +legislators. But as long as the laws existed they must obey them. I +could not admit that, because they called themselves by the titles the +Old World nobility thought so much of, they had a right to interfere in +the agreements I entered into with my neighbor. I told Sir Michael that +if he would go home and help Lady Fagan to saw and split the wood for her +fire, he would be better employed than in meddling with my domestic +arrangements. I advised Sir Hans to ask Lady Schleimer for her bottle of +spirits to use as an embrocation for his lame hip. And so my two +visitors with the aristocratic titles staggered off, and left us plain, +untitled citizens, Hiram and myself, to set our posts, and consider the +question whether we lived in a free country or under the authority of a +self-constituted order of quasi-nobility." + +It is a very curious fact that, with all our boasted "free and equal" +superiority over the communities of the Old World, our people have the +most enormous appetite for Old World titles of distinction. Sir Michael +and Sir Hans belong to one of the most extended of the aristocratic +orders. But we have also "Knights and Ladies of Honor," and, what is +still grander, "Royal Conclave of Knights and Ladies," "Royal Arcanum," +and "Royal Society of Good Fellows," "Supreme Council," "Imperial +Court," "Grand Protector," and "Grand Dictator," and so on. Nothing +less than "Grand" and "Supreme" is good enough for the dignitaries of our +associations of citizens. Where does all this ambition for names without +realities come from? Because a Knight of the Garter wears a golden star, +why does the worthy cordwainer, who mends the shoes of his +fellow-citizens, want to wear a tin star, and take a name that had a +meaning as used by the representatives of ancient families, or the men +who had made themselves illustrious by their achievements? + +It appears to be a peculiarly American weakness. The French republicans +of the earlier period thought the term citizen was good enough for +anybody. At a later period, "Roi Citoyen"--the citizen king was a common +title given to Louis Philippe. But nothing is too grand for the +American, in the way of titles. The proudest of them all signify +absolutely nothing. They do not stand for ability, for public service, +for social importance, for large possessions; but, on the contrary, are +oftenest found in connection with personalities to which they are +supremely inapplicable. We can hardly afford to quarrel with a national +habit which, if lightly handled, may involve us in serious domestic +difficulties. The "Right Worshipful" functionary whose equipage stops at +my back gate, and whose services are indispensable to the health and +comfort of my household, is a dignitary whom I must not offend. I must +speak with proper deference to the lady who is scrubbing my floors, when +I remember that her husband, who saws my wood, carries a string of +high-sounding titles which would satisfy a Spanish nobleman. + +After all, every people must have its own forms of ostentation, pretence, +and vulgarity. The ancient Romans had theirs, the English and the French +have theirs as well,--why should not we Americans have ours? Educated +and refined persons must recognize frequent internal conflicts between +the "Homo sum" of Terence and the "Odi profanum vulgus" of Horace. The +nobler sentiment should be that of every true American, and it is in that +direction that our best civilization is constantly tending. + +We were waited on by a new girl, the other evening. Our pretty maiden +had left us for a visit to some relative,--so the Mistress said. I do +sincerely hope she will soon come back, for we all like to see her +flitting round the table. + +I don't know what to make of it. I had it all laid out in my mind. With +such a company there must be a love-story. Perhaps there will be, but +there may be new combinations of the elements which are to make it up, +and here is a bud among the full-blown flowers to which I must devote a +little space. + + Delilah. + +I must call her by the name we gave her after she had trimmed the Samson +locks of our Professor. Delilah is a puzzle to most of us. A pretty +creature, dangerously pretty to be in a station not guarded by all the +protective arrangements which surround the maidens of a higher social +order. It takes a strong cage to keep in a tiger or a grizzly bear, but +what iron bars, what barbed wires, can keep out the smooth and subtle +enemy that finds out the cage where beauty is imprisoned? Our young +Doctor is evidently attracted by the charming maiden who serves him and +us so modestly and so gracefully. Fortunately, the Mistress never loses +sight of her. If she were her own daughter, she could not be more +watchful of all her movements. And yet I do not believe that Delilah +needs all this overlooking. If I am not mistaken, she knows how to take +care of herself, and could be trusted anywhere, in any company, without a +duenna. She has a history,--I feel sure of it. She has been trained and +taught as young persons of higher position in life are brought up, and +does not belong in the humble station in which we find her. But inasmuch +as the Mistress says nothing about her antecedents, we do not like to be +too inquisitive. The two Annexes are, it is plain, very curious about +her. I cannot wonder. They are both good-looking girls, but Delilah is +prettier than either of them. My sight is not so good as it was, but I +can see the way in which the eyes of the young people follow each other +about plainly enough to set me thinking as to what is going on in the +thinking marrow behind them. The young Doctor's follow Delilah as she +glides round the table,--they look into hers whenever they get a chance; +but the girl's never betray any consciousness of it, so far as I can see. +There is no mistaking the interest with which the two, Annexes watch all +this. Why shouldn't they, I should like to know? The Doctor is a bright +young fellow, and wants nothing but a bald spot and a wife to find +himself in a comfortable family practice. One of the Annexes, as I have +said, has had thoughts of becoming a doctress. I don't think the Doctor +would want his wife to practise medicine, for reasons which I will not +stop to mention. Such a partnership sometimes works wonderfully well, as +in one well-known instance where husband and wife are both eminent in the +profession; but our young Doctor has said to me that he had rather see +his wife,--if he ever should have one,--at the piano than at the +dissecting-table. Of course the Annexes know nothing about this, and +they may think, as he professed himself willing to lecture on medicine to +women, he might like to take one of his pupils as a helpmeet. + +If it were not for our Delilah's humble position, I don't see why she +would not be a good match for any young man. But then it is so hard to +take a young woman from so very lowly a condition as that of a "waitress" +that it would require a deal of courage to venture on such a step. If we +could only find out that she is a princess in disguise, so to +speak,--that is, a young person of presentable connections as well as +pleasing looks and manners; that she has had an education of some kind, +as we suspected when she blushed on hearing herself spoken of as a +"gentille petite," why, then everything would be all right, the young +Doctor would have plain sailing,--that is, if he is in love with her, and +if she fancies him,--and I should find my love-story,--the one I +expected, but not between the parties I had thought would be mating with +each other. + +Dear little Delilah! Lily of the valley, growing in the shade +now,--perhaps better there until her petals drop; and yet if she is all I +often fancy she is, how her youthful presence would illuminate and +sweeten a household! There is not one of us who does not feel interested +in her,--not one of us who would not be delighted at some Cinderella +transformation which would show her in the setting Nature meant for her +favorite. + +The fancy of Number Seven about the witches' broomsticks suggested to one +of us the following poem: + + THE BROOMSTICK TRAIN; + OR, THE RETURN OF THE WITCHES. + + Lookout! Look out, boys! Clear the track! + The witches are here! They've all come back! + They hanged them high,--No use! No use! + What cares a witch for a hangman's noose? + They buried them deep, but they would n't lie, still, + For cats and witches are hard to kill; + They swore they shouldn't and wouldn't die, + Books said they did, but they lie! they lie! + + --A couple of hundred years, or so, + They had knocked about in the world below, + When an Essex Deacon dropped in to call, + And a homesick feeling seized them all; + For he came from a place they knew full well, + And many a tale he had to tell. + They long to visit the haunts of men, + To see the old dwellings they knew again, + And ride on their broomsticks all around + Their wide domain of unhallowed ground. + + In Essex county there's many a roof + Well known to him of the cloven hoof; + The small square windows are full in view + Which the midnight hags went sailing through, + On their well-trained broomsticks mounted high, + Seen like shadows against the sky; + Crossing the track of owls and bats, + Hugging before them their coal-black cats. + + Well did they know, those gray old wives, + The sights we see in our daily drives + Shimmer of lake and shine of sea, + Brown's bare hill with its lonely tree, + (It wasn't then as we see it now, + With one scant scalp-lock to shade its brow;) + Dusky nooks in the Essex woods, + Dark, dim, Dante-like solitudes, + Where the tree-toad watches the sinuous snake + Glide through his forests of fern and brake; + Ipswich River; its old stone bridge; + Far off Andover's Indian Ridge, + And many a scene where history tells + Some shadow of bygone terror dwells, + Of "Norman's Woe" with its tale of dread, + Of the Screeching Woman of Marblehead, + (The fearful story that turns men pale + Don't bid me tell it,--my speech would fail.) + + Who would not, will not, if he can, + Bathe in the breezes of fair Cape Ann, + Rest in the bowers her bays enfold, + Loved by the sachems and squaws of old? + Home where the white magnolias bloom, + Sweet with the bayberry's chaste perfume, + Hugged by the woods and kissed by the seal + Where is the Eden like to thee? + + For that "couple of hundred years, or so," + There had been no peace in the world below; + The witches still grumbling, "It is n't fair; + Come, give us a taste of the upper air! + We've had enough of your sulphur springs, + And the evil odor that round them clings; + We long for a drink that is cool and nice, + Great buckets of water with Wenham ice; + We've served you well up-stairs, you know; + You're a good old-fellow--come, let us go!" + + I don't feel sure of his being good, + But he happened to be in a pleasant mood, + As fiends with their skins full sometimes are, + (He'd been drinking with "roughs" at a Boston bar.) + So what does he do but up and shout + To a graybeard turnkey, "Let 'em out!" + + To mind his orders was all he knew; + The gates swung open, and out they flew. + "Where are our broomsticks?" the beldams cried. + "Here are your broomsticks," an imp replied. + "They've been in--the place you know--so long + They smell of brimstone uncommon strong; + But they've gained by being left alone, + Just look, and you'll see how tall they've grown." + --And where is my cat? "a vixen squalled. + Yes, where are our cats?" the witches bawled, + And began to call them all by name: + As fast as they called the cats, they came + There was bob-tailed Tommy and long-tailed Tim, + And wall-eyed Jacky and green-eyed Jim, + And splay-foot Benny and slim-legged Beau, + And Skinny and Squally, and Jerry and Joe, + + And many another that came at call, + It would take too long to count them all. + All black,--one could hardly tell which was which, + But every cat knew his own old witch; + And she knew hers as hers knew her, + Ah, did n't they curl their tails and purr! + + No sooner the withered hags were free + Than out they swarmed for a midnight spree; + I could n't tell all they did in rhymes, + But the Essex people had dreadful times. + The Swampscott fishermen still relate + How a strange sea-monster stole thair bait; + How their nets were tangled in loops and knots, + And they found dead crabs in their lobster-pots. + Poor Danvers grieved for her blasted crops, + And Wilmington mourned over mildewed hops. + A blight played havoc with Beverly beans, + It was all the work of those hateful queans! + A dreadful panic began at "Pride's," + Where the witches stopped in their midnight rides, + And there rose strange rumors and vague alarms + 'Mid the peaceful dwellers at Beverly Farms. + + Now when the Boss of the Beldams found + That without his leave they were ramping round, + He called,--they could hear him twenty miles, + From Chelsea beach to the Misery Isles; + The deafest old granny knew his tone + Without the trick of the telephone. + "Come here, you witches! Come here!" says he, + --"At your games of old, without asking me + I'll give you a little job to do + That will keep you stirring, you godless crew!" + + They came, of course, at their master's call, + The witches, the broomsticks, the cats, and all; + He led the hags to a railway train + The horses were trying to drag in vain. + "Now, then," says he, "you've had your fun, + And here are the cars you've got to run. + + "The driver may just unhitch his team, + We don't want horses, we don't want steam; + You may keep your old black cats to hug, + But the loaded train you've got to lug." + + Since then on many a car you'll see + A broomstick plain as plain can be; + On every stick there's a witch astride, + The string you see to her leg is tied. + She will do a mischief if she can, + But the string is held by a careful man, + And whenever the evil-minded witch + Would cut come caper, he gives a twitch. + As for the hag, you can't see her, + But hark! you can hear her black cat's purr, + And now and then, as a car goes by, + You may catch a gleam from her wicked eye. + + Often you've looked on a rushing train, + But just what moved it was not so plain. + It couldn't be those wires above, + For they could neither pull nor shove; + Where was the motor that made it go + You couldn't guess, but now you know. + + Remember my rhymes when you ride again + On the rattling rail by the broomstick train! + + + + +X + +In my last report of our talks over the teacups I had something to say of +the fondness of our people for titles. Where did the anti-republican, +anti-democratic passion for swelling names come from, and how long has it +been naturalized among us? + +A striking instance of it occurred at about the end of the last century. +It was at that time there appeared among us one of the most original and +singular personages to whom America has given birth. Many of our +company,--many of my readers,--all well acquainted with his name, and not +wholly ignorant of his history. They will not object to my giving some +particulars relating to him, which, if not new to them, will be new to +others into whose hands these pages may fall. + +Timothy Dexter, the first claimant of a title of nobility among the +people of the United States of America, was born in the town of Malden, +near Boston. He served an apprenticeship as a leather-dresser, saved +some money, got some more with his wife, began trading and speculating, +and became at last rich, for those days. His most famous business +enterprise was that of sending an invoice of warming-pans to the West +Indies. A few tons of ice would have seemed to promise a better return; +but in point of fact, he tells us, the warming-pans were found useful in +the manufacture of sugar, and brought him in a handsome profit. His +ambition rose with his fortune. He purchased a large and stately house +in Newburyport, and proceeded to embellish and furnish it according to +the dictates of his taste and fancy. In the grounds about his house, he +caused to be erected between forty and fifty wooden statues of great men +and allegorical figures, together with four lions and one lamb. Among +these images were two statues of Dexter himself, one of which held a +label with a characteristic inscription. His house was ornamented with +minarets, adorned with golden balls, and surmounted by a large gilt +eagle. He equipped it with costly furniture, with paintings, and a +library. He went so far as to procure the services of a poet laureate, +whose business it seems to have been to sing his praises. Surrounded with +splendors like these, the plain title of "Mr." Dexter would have been +infinitely too mean and common. He therefore boldly took the step of +self-ennobling, and gave himself forth--as he said, obeying "the voice of +the people at large"--as "Lord Timothy Dexter," by which appellation he +has ever since been known to the American public. + +If to be the pioneer in the introduction of Old World titles into +republican America can confer a claim to be remembered by posterity, Lord +Timothy Dexter has a right to historic immortality. If the true American +spirit shows itself most clearly in boundless self-assertion, Timothy +Dexter is the great original American egotist. If to throw off the +shackles of Old World pedantry, and defy the paltry rules and examples of +grammarians and rhetoricians, is the special province and the chartered +privilege of the American writer, Timothy Dexter is the founder of a new +school, which tramples under foot the conventionalities that hampered and +subjugated the faculties of the poets, the dramatists, the historians, +essayists, story-tellers, orators, of the worn-out races which have +preceded the great American people. + +The material traces of the first American nobleman's existence have +nearly disappeared. The house is still standing, but the statues, the +minarets, the arches, and the memory of the great Lord Timothy Dexter +live chiefly in tradition, and in the work which he bequeathed to +posterity, and of which I shall say a few words. It is unquestionably a +thoroughly original production, and I fear that some readers may think I +am trifling with them when I am quoting it literally. I am going to make +a strong claim for Lord Timothy as against other candidates for a certain +elevated position. + +Thomas Jefferson is commonly recognized as the first to proclaim before +the world the political independence of America. It is not so generally +agreed upon as to who was the first to announce the literary emancipation +of our country. + +One of Mr. Emerson's biographers has claimed that his Phi Beta Kappa +Oration was our Declaration of Literary Independence. But Mr. Emerson +did not cut himself loose from all the traditions of Old World +scholarship. He spelled his words correctly, he constructed his +sentences grammatically. He adhered to the slavish rules of propriety, +and observed the reticences which a traditional delicacy has considered +inviolable in decent society, European and Oriental alike. When he wrote +poetry, he commonly selected subjects which seemed adapted to poetical +treatment,--apparently thinking that all things were not equally +calculated to inspire the true poet's genius. Once, indeed, he ventured +to refer to "the meal in the firkin, the milk in the pan," but he chiefly +restricted himself to subjects such as a fastidious conventionalism would +approve as having a certain fitness for poetical treatment. He was not +always so careful as he might have been in the rhythm and rhyme of his +verse, but in the main he recognized the old established laws which have +been accepted as regulating both. In short, with all his originality, he +worked in Old World harness, and cannot be considered as the creator of a +truly American, self-governed, self-centred, absolutely independent style +of thinking and writing, knowing no law but its own sovereign will and +pleasure. + +A stronger claim might be urged for Mr. Whitman. He takes into his +hospitable vocabulary words which no English dictionary recognizes as +belonging to the language,--words which will be looked for in vain +outside of his own pages. He accepts as poetical subjects all things +alike, common and unclean, without discrimination, miscellaneous as the +contents of the great sheet which Peter saw let down from heaven. He +carries the principle of republicanism through the whole world of created +objects. He will "thread a thread through [his] poems," he tells us, +"that no one thing in the universe is inferior to another thing." No man +has ever asserted the surpassing dignity and importance of the American +citizen so boldly and freely as Mr. Whitman. He calls himself "teacher +of the unquenchable creed, namely, egotism." He begins one of his +chants, "I celebrate myself," but he takes us all in as partners in his +self-glorification. He believes in America as the new Eden. + +"A world primal again,--vistas of glory incessant and branching, A new +race dominating previous ones and grander far, New politics--new +literature and religions--new inventions and arts." + +Of the new literature be himself has furnished specimens which certainly +have all the originality he can claim for them. So far as egotism is +concerned, he was clearly anticipated by the titled personage to whom I +have referred, who says of himself, "I am the first in the East, the +first in the West, and the greatest philosopher in the Western world." +But while Mr. Whitman divests himself of a part of his baptismal name, +the distinguished New Englander thus announces his proud position: "Ime +the first Lord in the younited States of A mercary Now of Newburyport. +it is the voice of the peopel and I cant Help it." This extract is from +his famous little book called "A Pickle for the Knowing Ones." As an +inventor of a new American style he goes far beyond Mr. Whitman, who, to +be sure, cares little for the dictionary, and makes his own rules of +rhythm, so far as there is any rhythm in his sentences. But Lord Timothy +spells to suit himself, and in place of employing punctuation as it is +commonly used, prints a separate page of periods, colons, semicolons, +commas, notes of interrogation and of admiration, with which the reader +is requested to "peper and soolt" the book as he pleases. + +I am afraid that Mr. Emerson and Mr. Whitman must yield the claim of +declaring American literary independence to Lord Timothy Dexter, who not +only taught his countrymen that they need not go to the Heralds' College +to authenticate their titles of nobility, but also that they were at +perfect liberty to spell just as they liked, and to write without +troubling themselves about stops of any kind. In writing what I suppose +he intended for poetry, he did not even take the pains to break up his +lines into lengths to make them look like verse, as may be seen by the +following specimen: + + WONDER OF WONDERS! + +How great the soul is! Do not you all wonder and admire to see and +behold and hear? Can you all believe half the truth, and admire to hear +the wonders how great the soul is--only behold--past finding out! Only +see how large the soul is! that if a man is drowned in the sea what a +great bubble comes up out of the top of the water... The bubble is the +soul. + +I confess that I am not in sympathy with some of the movements that +accompany the manifestations of American social and literary +independence. I do not like the assumption of titles of Lords and +Knights by plain citizens of a country which prides itself on recognizing +simple manhood and womanhood as sufficiently entitled to respect without +these unnecessary additions. I do not like any better the familiar, and +as it seems to me rude, way of speaking of our fellow-citizens who are +entitled to the common courtesies of civilized society. I never thought +it dignified or even proper for a President of the United States to call +himself, or to be called by others, "Frank" Pierce. In the first place I +had to look in a biographical dictionary to find out whether his +baptismal name was Franklin, or Francis, or simply Frank, for I think +children are sometimes christened with this abbreviated name. But it is +too much in the style of Cowper's unpleasant acquaintance: + + "The man who hails you Tom or Jack, + And proves by thumping on your back + How he esteems your merit." + +I should not like to hear our past chief magistrates spoken of as Jack +Adams or Jim Madison, and it would have been only as a political partisan +that I should have reconciled myself to "Tom" Jefferson. So, in spite of +"Ben" Jonson, "Tom" Moore, and "Jack" Sheppard, I prefer to speak of a +fellow-citizen already venerable by his years, entitled to respect by +useful services to his country, and recognized by many as the prophet of +a new poetical dispensation, with the customary title of adults rather +than by the free and easy school-boy abbreviation with which he +introduced himself many years ago to the public. As for his rhapsodies, +Number Seven, our "cracked Teacup," says they sound to him like "fugues +played on a big organ which has been struck by lightning." So far as +concerns literary independence, if we understand by that term the getting +rid of our subjection to British criticism, such as it was in the days +when the question was asked, "Who reads an American book?" we may +consider it pretty well established. If it means dispensing with +punctuation, coining words at will, self-revelation unrestrained by a +sense of what is decorous, declamations in which everything is glorified +without being idealized, "poetry" in which the reader must make the +rhythms which the poet has not made for him, then I think we had better +continue literary colonists. I shrink from a lawless independence to +which all the virile energy and trampling audacity of Mr. Whitman fail to +reconcile me. But there is room for everybody and everything in our huge +hemisphere. Young America is like a three-year-old colt with his saddle +and bridle just taken off. The first thing he wants to do is to roll. +He is a droll object, sprawling in the grass with his four hoofs in the +air; but he likes it, and it won't harm us. So let him roll,--let him +roll. + +Of all The Teacups around our table, Number Five is the one who is the +object of the greatest interest. Everybody wants to be her friend, and +she has room enough in her hospitable nature to find a place for every +one who is worthy of the privilege. The difficulty is that it is so hard +to be her friend without becoming her lover. I have said before that she +turns the subjects of her Circe-like enchantment, not into swine, but +into lambs. The Professor and I move round among her lambs, the docile +and amiable flock that come and go at her bidding, that follow her +footsteps, and are content to live in the sunshine of her smile and +within reach of the music of her voice. I like to get her away from +their amiable bleatings; I love to talk with her about life, of which she +has seen a great deal, for she knows what it is to be an idol in society +and the centre of her social circle. It might be a question whether +women or men most admire and love her. With her own sex she is always +helpful, sympathizing, tender, charitable, sharing their griefs as well +as taking part in their pleasures. With men it has seemed to make little +difference whether they were young or old: all have found her the same +sweet, generous, unaffected companion; fresh enough in feeling for the +youngest, deep enough in the wisdom of the heart for the oldest. She +does not pretend to be youthful, nor does she trouble herself that she +has seen the roses of more Junes than many of--the younger women who +gather round her. She has not had to say, + + Comme je regrette + Mon bras si dodu, + +for her arm has never lost its roundness, and her face is one of those +that cannot be cheated of their charm even if they live long enough to +look upon the grown up grandchildren of their coevals. + +It is a wonder how Number Five can find the time to be so much to so many +friends of both sexes, in spite of the fact that she is one of the most +insatiable of readers. She not only reads, but she remembers; she not +only remembers, but she records, for her own use and pleasure, and for +the delight and profit of those who are privileged to look over her +note-books. Number Five, as I think I have said before, has not the +ambition to figure as an authoress. That she could write most agreeably +is certain. I have seen letters of hers to friends which prove that +clearly enough. Whether she would find prose or verse the most natural +mode of expression I cannot say, but I know she is passionately fond of +poetry, and I should not be surprised if, laid away among the pressed +pansies and roses of past summers, there were poems, songs, perhaps, of +her own, which she sings to herself with her fingers touching the piano; +for to that she tells her secrets in tones sweet as the ring-dove's call +to her mate. + +I am afraid it may be suggested that I am drawing Number Five's portrait +too nearly after some model who is unconsciously sitting for it; but have +n't I told you that you must not look for flesh and blood personalities +behind or beneath my Teacups? I am not going to make these so lifelike +that you will be saying, This is Mr. or Miss, or Mrs. So-and-So. My +readers must remember that there are very many pretty, sweet, amiable +girls and women sitting at their pianos, and finding chords to the music +of their heart-strings. If I have pictured Number Five as one of her +lambs might do it, I have succeeded in what I wanted to accomplish. Why +don't I describe her person? If I do, some gossip or other will be sure +to say, "Oh, he means her, of course," and find a name to match the +pronoun. + +It is strange to see how we are all coming to depend upon the friendly +aid of Number Five in our various perplexities. The Counsellor asked her +opinion in one of those cases where a divorce was too probable, but a +reconciliation was possible. It takes a woman to sound a woman's heart, +and she found there was still love enough under the ruffled waters to +warrant the hope of peace and tranquillity. The young Doctor went to her +for counsel in the case of a hysteric girl possessed with the idea that +she was a born poetess, and covering whole pages of foolscap with +senseless outbursts, which she wrote in paroxysms of wild excitement, and +read with a rapture of self-admiration which there was nothing in her +verses to justify or account for. How sweetly Number Five dealt with +that poor deluded sister in her talk with the Doctor! "Yes," she said to +him, "nothing can be fuller of vanity, self-worship, and self-deception. +But we must be very gentle with her. I knew a young girl tormented with +aspirations, and possessed by a belief that she was meant for a higher +place than that which fate had assigned her, who needed wholesome advice, +just as this poor young thing does. She did not ask for it, and it was +not offered. Alas, alas! 'no man cared for her soul,'--no man nor woman +either. She was in her early teens, and the thought of her earthly +future, as it stretched out before her, was more than she could bear, and +she sought the presence of her Maker to ask the meaning of her abortive +existence.--We will talk it over. I will help you take care of this +child." + +The Doctor was thankful to have her assistance in a case with which he +would have found it difficult to deal if he had been left to, his unaided +judgment, and between them the young girl was safely piloted through the +perilous straits in which she came near shipwreck. + +I know that it is commonly said of her that every male friend of hers +must become her lover unless he is already lassoed by another. Il fait +passer par l'a. The young Doctor is, I think, safe, for I am convinced +that he is bewitched with Delilah. Since she has left us, he has seemed +rather dejected; I feel sure that he misses her. We all do, but he more +seriously than the rest of us. I have said that I cannot tell whether +the Counsellor is to be counted as one of Number Five's lambs or not, but +he evidently admires her, and if he is not fascinated, looks as if he +were very near that condition. + +It was a more delicate matter about which the Tutor talked with her. +Something which she had pleasantly said to him about the two Annexes led +him to ask her, more or less seriously, it may be remembered, about the +fitness of either of them to be the wife of a young man in his position. +She talked so sensibly, as it seemed to him, about it that he continued +the conversation, and, shy as he was, became quite easy and confidential +in her company. The Tutor is not only a poet, but is a great reader of +the poetry of many languages. It so happened that Number Five was +puzzled, one day, in reading a sonnet of Petrarch, and had recourse to +the Tutor to explain the difficult passage. She found him so thoroughly +instructed, so clear, so much interested, so ready to impart knowledge, +and so happy in his way of doing it, that she asked him if he would not +allow her the privilege of reading an Italian author under his guidance, +now and then. + +The Tutor found Number Five an apt scholar, and something more than that; +for while, as a linguist, he was, of course, her master, her intelligent +comments brought out the beauties of an author in a way to make the text +seem like a different version. They did not always confine themselves to +the book they were reading. Number Five showed some curiosity about the +Tutor's relations with the two Annexes. She suggested whether it would +not be well to ask one or both of them in to take part in their readings. +The Tutor blushed and hesitated. "Perhaps you would like to ask one of +them," said Number Five. "Which one shall it be?" "It makes no +difference to me which," he answered, "but I do not see that we need +either." Number Five did not press the matter further. So the young +Tutor and Number Five read together pretty regularly, and came to depend +upon their meeting over a book as one of their stated seasons of +enjoyment. He is so many years younger than she is that I do not suppose +he will have to pass par la, as most of her male friends have done. I +tell her sometimes that she reminds me of my Alma Mater, always young, +always fresh in her attractions, with her scholars all round her, many of +them graduates, or to graduate sooner or later. + +What do I mean by graduates? Why, that they have made love to her, and +would be entitled to her diploma, if she gave a parchment to each one of +them who had had the courage to face the inevitable. About the +Counsellor I am, as I have said, in doubt. Who wrote that "I Like You +and I Love You," which we found in the sugar-bowl the other day? Was it +a graduate who had felt the "icy dagger," or only a candidate for +graduation who was afraid of it? So completely does she subjugate those +who come under her influence that I believe she looks upon it as a matter +of course that the fateful question will certainly come, often after a +brief acquaintance. She confessed as much to me, who am in her +confidence, and not a candidate for graduation from her academy. Her +graduates--her lambs I called them--are commonly faithful to her, and +though now and then one may have gone off and sulked in solitude, most of +them feel kindly to her, and to those who have shared the common fate of +her suitors. I do really believe that some of them would be glad to see +her captured by any one, if such there can be, who is worthy of her. She +is the best of friends, they say, but can she love anybody, as so many +other women do, or seem to? Why shouldn't our Musician, who is evidently +fond of her company, and sings and plays duets with her, steal her heart +as Piozzi stole that of the pretty and bright Mrs. Thrale, as so many +music-teachers have run away with their pupils' hearts? At present she +seems to be getting along very placidly and contentedly with her young +friend the Tutor. There is something quite charming in their relations +with each other. He knows many things she does not, for he is reckoned +one of the most learned in his literary specialty of all the young men of +his time; and it can be a question of only a few years when some +first-class professorship will be offered him. She, on the other hand, +has so much more experience, so much more practical wisdom, than he has +that he consults her on many every-day questions, as he did, or made +believe do, about that of making love to one of the two Annexes. I had +thought, when we first sat round the tea-table, that she was good for the +bit of romance I wanted; but since she has undertaken to be a kind of +half-maternal friend to the young Tutor, I am afraid I shall have to give +her up as the heroine of a romantic episode. It would be a pity if there +were nothing to commend these papers to those who take up this periodical +but essays, more or less significant, on subjects more or less +interesting to the jaded and impatient readers of the numberless stories +and entertaining articles which crowd the magazines of this prolific +period. A whole year of a tea-table as large as ours without a single +love passage in it would be discreditable to the company. We must find +one, or make one, before the tea-things are taken away and the table is +no longer spread. + + The Dictator turns preacher. + +We have so many light and playful talks over the teacups that some +readers may be surprised to find us taking up the most serious and solemn +subject which can occupy a human intelligence. The sudden appearance +among our New England Protestants of the doctrine of purgatory as a +possibility, or even probability, has startled the descendants of the +Puritans. It has naturally led to a reconsideration of the doctrine of +eternal punishment. It is on that subject that Number Five and I have +talked together. I love to listen to her, for she talks from the +promptings of a true woman's heart. I love to talk to her, for I learn +my own thoughts better in that way than in any other "L'appetit vient en +mangeant," the French saying has it. "L'esprit vient en causant;" that +is, if one can find the right persons to talk with. + +The subject which has specially interested Number Five and myself, of +late, was suggested to me in the following way. + +Some two years ago I received a letter from a clergyman who bears by +inheritance one of the most distinguished names which has done honor to +the American "Orthodox" pulpit. This letter requested of me "a +contribution to a proposed work which was to present in their own +language the views of 'many men of many minds' on the subject of future +punishment. It was in my mind to let the public hear not only from +professional theologians, but from other professions, as from jurists on +the alleged but disputed value of the hangman's whip overhanging the +witness-box, and from physicians on the working of beliefs about the +future life in the minds of the dangerously sick. And I could not help +thinking what a good thing it would be to draw out the present writer +upon his favorite borderland between the spiritual and the material." +The communication came to me, as the writer reminds me in a recent +letter, at a "painfully inopportune time," and though it was courteously +answered, was not made the subject of a special reply. + +This request confers upon me a certain right to express my opinion on +this weighty subject without fear and without reproach even from those +who might be ready to take offence at one of the laity for meddling with +pulpit questions. It shows also that this is not a dead issue in our +community, as some of the younger generation seem to think. There are +some, there may be many, who would like to hear what impressions one has +received on the subject referred to, after a long life in which he has +heard and read a great deal about the matter. There is a certain gravity +in the position of one who is, in the order of nature very near the +undiscovered country. A man who has passed his eighth decade feels as if +he were already in the antechamber of the apartments which he may be +called to occupy in the house of many mansions. His convictions +regarding the future of our race are likely to be serious, and his +expressions not lightly uttered. The question my correspondent suggests +is a tremendous one. No other interest compares for one moment with that +belonging to it. It is not only ourselves that it concerns, but all whom +we love or ever have loved, all our human brotherhood, as well as our +whole idea of the Being who made us and the relation in which He stands +to his creatures. In attempting to answer my correspondent's question, I +shall no doubt repeat many things I have said before in different forms, +on different occasions. This is no more than every clergyman does +habitually, and it would be hard if I could not have the same license +which the professional preacher enjoys so fully. + +Number Five and I have occasionally talked on religious questions, and +discovered many points of agreement in our views. Both of us grew up +under the old "Orthodox" or Calvinistic system of belief. Both of us +accepted it in our early years as a part of our education. Our experience +is a common one. William Cullen Bryant says of himself, "The Calvinistic +system of divinity I adopted of course, as I heard nothing else taught +from the pulpit, and supposed it to be the accepted belief of the +religious world." But it was not the "five points" which remained in the +young poet's memory and shaped his higher life. It was the influence of +his mother that left its permanent impression after the questions and +answers of the Assembly's Catechism had faded out, or remained in memory +only as fossil survivors of an extinct or fast-disappearing theological +formation. The important point for him, as for so many other children of +Puritan descent, was not his father's creed, but his mother's character, +precepts, and example. "She was a person," he says, "of excellent +practical sense, of a quick and sensitive moral judgment, and had no +patience with any form of deceit or duplicity. Her prompt condemnation of +injustice, even in those instances in which it is tolerated by the world, +made a strong impression upon me in early life; and if, in the discussion +of public questions, I have in my riper age endeavored to keep in view +the great rule of right without much regard to persons, it has been owing +in a great degree to the force of her example, which taught me never to +countenance a wrong because others did." + +I have quoted this passage because it was an experience not wholly unlike +my own, and in certain respects like that of Number Five. To grow up in +a narrow creed and to grow out of it is a tremendous trial of one's +nature. There is always a bond of fellowship between those who have been +through such an ordeal. + +The experiences we have had in common naturally lead us to talk over the +theological questions which at this time are constantly presenting +themselves to the public, not only in the books and papers expressly +devoted to that class of subjects, but in many of the newspapers and +popular periodicals, from the weeklies to the quarterlies. The pulpit +used to lay down the law to the pews; at the present time, it is of more +consequence what the pews think than what the minister does, for the +obvious reason that the pews can change their minister, and often do, +whereas the minister cannot change the pews, or can do so only to a very +limited extent. The preacher's garment is cut according to the pattern +of that of the hearers, for the most part. Thirty years ago, when I was +writing on theological subjects, I came in for a very pretty share of +abuse, such as it was the fashion of that day, at least in certain +quarters, to bestow upon those who were outside of the high-walled +enclosures in which many persons; not naturally unamiable or exclusive, +found themselves imprisoned. Since that time what changes have taken +place! Who will believe that a well-behaved and reputable citizen could +have been denounced as a "moral parricide," because he attacked some of +the doctrines in which he was supposed to have been brought up? A single +thought should have prevented the masked theologian who abused his +incognito from using such libellous language. + +Much, and in many families most, of the religious teaching of children is +committed to the mother. The experience of William Cullen Bryant, which +I have related in his own words, is that of many New England children. +Now, the sternest dogmas that ever came from a soul cramped or palsied by +an obsolete creed become wonderfully softened in passing between the lips +of a mother. The cruel doctrine at which all but case-hardened +"professionals" shudder cones out, as she teaches and illustrates it, as +unlike its original as the milk which a peasant mother gives her babe is +unlike the coarse food which furnishes her nourishment. The virus of a +cursing creed is rendered comparatively harmless by the time it reaches +the young sinner in the nursery. Its effects fall as far short of what +might have been expected from its virulence as the pearly vaccine vesicle +falls short of the terrors of the confluent small-pox. Controversialists +should therefore be careful (for their own sakes, for they hurt nobody so +much as themselves) how they use such terms as "parricide" as +characterizing those who do not agree in all points with the fathers whom +or whose memory they honor and venerate. They might with as much +propriety call them matricides, if they did not agree with the milder +teachings of their mothers. I can imagine Jonathan Edwards in the +nursery with his three-year-old child upon his knee. The child looks up +to his face and says to him,--"Papa, nurse tells me that you say God +hates me worse than He hates one of those horrid ugly snakes that crawl +all round. Does God hate me so?" + +"Alas! my child, it is but too true. So long as you are out of Christ +you are as a viper, and worse than a viper, in his sight." + +By and by, Mrs. Edwards, one of the loveliest of women and sweetest of +mothers, comes into the nursery. The child is crying. + +"What is the matter, my darling?" + +"Papa has been telling me that God hates me worse than a snake." + +Poor, gentle, poetical, sensitive, spiritual, almost celestial Mrs. +Jonathan Edwards! On the one hand the terrible sentence conceived, +written down, given to the press, by the child's father; on the other +side the trusting child looking up at her, and all the mother pleading in +her heart against the frightful dogma of her revered husband. Do you +suppose she left that poison to rankle in the tender soul of her darling? +Would it have been moral parricide for a son of the great divine to have +repudiated the doctrine which degraded his blameless infancy to the +condition and below the condition of the reptile? Was it parricide in +the second or third degree when his descendant struck out that venomous +sentence from the page in which it stood as a monument to what depth +Christian heathenism could sink under the teaching of the great master of +logic and spiritual inhumanity? It is too late to be angry about the +abuse a well--meaning writer received thirty years ago. The whole +atmosphere has changed since then. It is mere childishness to expect men +to believe as their fathers did; that is, if they have any minds of their +own. The world is a whole generation older and wiser than when the father +was of his son's age. + +So far as I have observed persons nearing the end of life, the Roman +Catholics understand the business of dying better than Protestants. They +have an expert by them, armed with spiritual specifics, in which they +both, patient and priestly ministrant, place implicit trust. Confession, +the Eucharist, Extreme Unction,--these all inspire a confidence which +without this symbolism is too apt to be wanting in over-sensitive +natures. They have been peopled in earlier years with ghastly spectres +of avenging fiends, moving in a sleepless world of devouring flames and +smothering exhalations; where nothing lives but the sinner, the fiends, +and the reptiles who help to make life an unending torture. It is no +wonder that these images sometimes return to the enfeebled intelligence. +To exorcise them, the old Church of Christendom has her mystic formulae, +of which no rationalistic prescription can take the place. If Cowper had +been a good Roman Catholic, instead of having his conscience handled by a +Protestant like John Newton, he would not have died despairing, looking +upon himself as a castaway. I have seen a good many Roman Catholics on +their dying beds, and it always appeared to me that they accepted the +inevitable with a composure which showed that their belief, whether or +not the best to live by, was a better one to die by than most of the +harder creeds which have replaced it. + +In the more intelligent circles of American society one may question +anything and everything, if he will only do it civilly. We may talk +about eschatology, the science of last things,--or, if you will, the +natural history of the undiscovered country, without offence before +anybody except young children and very old women of both sexes. In our +New England the great Andover discussion and the heretical missionary +question have benumbed all sensibility on this subject as entirely, as +completely, as the new local anaesthetic, cocaine, deadens the +sensibility of the part to which it is applied, so that the eye may have +its mote or beam plucked out without feeling it,--as the novels of Zola +and Maupassant have hardened the delicate nerve-centres of the women who +have fed their imaginations on the food they have furnished. + +The generally professed belief of the Protestant world as embodied in +their published creeds is that the great mass of mankind are destined to +an eternity of suffering. That this eternity is to be one of bodily +pain--of "torment "--is the literal teaching of Scripture, which has been +literally interpreted by the theologians, the poets, and the artists of +many long ages which followed the acceptance of the recorded legends of +the church as infallible. The doctrine has always been recognized, as it +is now, as a very terrible one. It has found a support in the story of +the fall of man, and the view taken of the relation of man to his Maker +since that event. The hatred of God to mankind in virtue of their "first +disobedience" and inherited depravity is at the bottom of it. The extent +to which that idea was carried is well shown in the expressions I have +borrowed from Jonathan Edwards. According to his teaching,--and he was a +reasoner who knew what he was talking about, what was involved in the +premises of the faith he accepted,--man inherits the curse of God as his +principal birthright. + +What shall we say to the doctrine of the fall of man as the ground of +inflicting endless misery on the human race? A man to be punished for +what he could not help! He was expected to be called to account for +Adam's sin. It is singular to notice that the reasoning of the wolf with +the lamb should be transferred to the dealings of the Creator with his +creatures. "You stirred the brook up and made my drinking-place muddy." +"But, please your wolfship, I couldn't do that, for I stirred the water +far down the stream,--below your drinking-place." "Well, anyhow, your +father troubled it a year or two ago, and that is the same thing." So +the wolf falls upon the lamb and makes a meal of him. That is wolf +logic,--and theological reasoning. + +How shall we characterize the doctrine of endless torture as the destiny +of most of those who have lived, and are living, on this planet? I +prefer to let another writer speak of it. Mr. John Morley uses the +following words: "The horrors of what is perhaps the most frightful idea +that has ever corroded human character,--the idea of eternal punishment." +Sismondi, the great historian, heard a sermon on eternal punishment, and +vowed never again to enter another church holding the same creed. +Romanism he considered a religion of mercy and peace by the side of what +the English call the Reformation.--I mention these protests because I +happen to find them among my notes, but it would be easy to accumulate +examples of the same kind. When Cowper, at about the end of the last +century, said satirically of the minister he was attacking, + + "He never mentioned hell to ears polite," + +he was giving unconscious evidence that the sense of the barbarism of the +idea was finding its way into the pulpit. When Burns, in the midst of +the sulphurous orthodoxy of Scotland, dared to say, + + "The fear o' hell 's a hangman's whip + To haud the wretch in order," + +he was only appealing to the common sense and common humanity of his +fellow-countrymen. + +All the reasoning in the world, all the proof-texts in old manuscripts, +cannot reconcile this supposition of a world of sleepless and endless +torment with the declaration that "God is love." + +Where did this "frightful idea" come from? We are surprised, as we grow +older, to find that the legendary hell of the church is nothing more nor +less than the Tartarus of the old heathen world. It has every mark of +coming from the cruel heart of a barbarous despot. Some malignant and +vindictive Sheik, some brutal Mezentius, must have sat for many pictures +of the Divinity. It was not enough to kill his captive enemy, after +torturing him as much as ingenuity could contrive to do it. He escaped +at last by death, but his conqueror could not give him up so easily, and +so his vengeance followed him into the unseen and unknown world. How the +doctrine got in among, the legends of the church we are no more bound to +show than we are to account for the intercalation of the "three +witnesses" text, or the false insertion, or false omission, whichever it +may be, of the last twelve verses of the Gospel of St Mark. We do not +hang our grandmothers now, as our ancestors did theirs, on the strength +of the positive command, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." + +The simple truth is that civilization has outgrown witchcraft, and is +outgrowing the Christian Tartarus. The pulpit no longer troubles itself +about witches and their evil doings. All the legends in the world could +not arrest the decay of that superstition and all the edicts that grew +out of it. All the stories that can be found in old manuscripts will +never prevent the going out of the fires of the legendary Inferno. It is +not much talked about nowadays to ears polite or impolite. Humanity is +shocked and repelled by it. The heart of woman is in unconquerable +rebellion against it. The more humane sects tear it from their "Bodies +of Divinity" as if it were the flaming shirt of Nessus. A few doctrines +with which it was bound up have dropped or are dropping away from it: the +primal curse; consequential damages to give infinite extension to every +transgression of the law of God; inverting the natural order of relative +obligations; stretching the smallest of finite offenses to the +proportions of the infinite; making the babe in arms the responsible +being, and not the parent who gave it birth and determined its conditions +of existence. + +After a doctrine like "the hangman's whip" has served its purpose,--if it +ever had any useful purpose,--after a doctrine like that of witchcraft +has hanged old women enough, civilization contrives to get rid of it. +When we say that civilization crowds out the old superstitious legends, +we recognize two chief causes. The first is the naked individual +protest; the voice of the inspiration which giveth man understanding. +This shows itself conspicuously in the modern poets. Burns in Scotland, +Bryant, Longfellow, Whittier, in America, preached a new gospel to the +successors of men like Thomas Boston and Jonathan Edwards. In due +season, the growth of knowledge, chiefly under the form of that part of +knowledge called science, so changes the views of the universe that many +of its long-unchallenged legends become no more than nursery tales. The +text-books of astronomy and geology work their way in between the +questions and answers of the time-honored catechisms. The doctrine of +evolution, so far as it is accepted, changes the whole relations of man +to the creative power. It substitutes infinite hope in the place of +infinite despair for the vast majority of mankind. Instead of a +shipwreck, from which a few cabin passengers and others are to be saved +in the long-boat, it gives mankind a vessel built to endure the tempests, +and at last to reach a port where at the worst the passengers can find +rest, and where they may hope for a home better than any which they ever +had in their old country. It is all very well to say that men and women +had their choice whether they would reach the safe harbor or not. + + "Go to it grandam, child; + Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will + Give it a plum, a cherry and a fig." + +We know what the child will take. So which course we shall take depends +very much on the way the choice is presented to us, and on what the +chooser is by nature. What he is by nature is not determined by himself, +but by his parentage. "They know not what they do." In one sense this +is true of every human being. The agent does not know, never can know, +what makes him that which he is. What we most want to ask of our Maker +is an unfolding of the divine purpose in putting human beings into +conditions in which such numbers of them would be sure to go wrong. We +want an advocate of helpless humanity whose task it shall be, in the +words of Milton, + + "To justify the ways of God to man." + +We have heard Milton's argument, but for the realization of his vision of +the time + + "When Hell itself shall pass away, + And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day," + +our suffering race must wait in patience. + +The greater part of the discourse the reader has had before him was +delivered over the teacups one Sunday afternoon. The Mistress looked +rather grave, as if doubtful whether she ought not to signify her +disapprobation of what seemed to her dangerous doctrine. + +However, as she knew that I was a good church-goer and was on the best +terms with her minister, she said nothing to show that she had taken the +alarm. Number Five listened approvingly. We had talked the question +over well, and were perfectly agreed on the main point. How could it be +otherwise? Do you suppose that any intellectual, spiritual woman, with a +heart under her bodice, can for a moment seriously believe that the +greater number of the high-minded men, the noble and lovely women, the +ingenuous and affectionate children, whom she knows and honors or loves, +are to be handed over to the experts in a great torture-chamber, in +company with the vilest creatures that have once worn human shape? + +"If there is such a world as used to be talked about from the pulpit, you +may depend upon it," she said to me once, "there will soon be organized a +Humane Society in heaven, and a mission established among 'the spirits in +prison.'" + +Number Five is a regular church-goer, as I am. I do not believe either +of us would darken the doors of a church if we were likely to hear any of +the "old-fashioned" sermons, such as I used to listen to in former years +from a noted clergyman, whose specialty was the doctrine of eternal +punishment. But you may go to the churches of almost any of our +Protestant denominations, and hear sermons by which you can profit, +because the ministers are generally good men, whose moral and spiritual +natures are above the average, and who know that the harsh preaching of +two or three generations ago would offend and alienate a large part of +their audience. So neither Number Five nor I are hypocrites in attending +church or "going to meeting." I am afraid it does not make a great deal +of difference to either of us what may be the established creed of the +worshipping assembly. That is a matter of great interest, perhaps of +great importance, to them, but of much less, comparatively, to us. +Companionship in worship, and sitting quiet for an hour while a trained +speaker, presumably somewhat better than we are, stirs up our spiritual +nature,--these are reasons enough to Number Five, as to me, for regular +attendance on divine worship. + +Number Seven is of a different way of thinking and feeling. He insists +upon it that the churches keep in their confessions of faith statements +which they do not believe, and that it is notorious that they are afraid +to meddle with them. The Anglo-American church has dropped the +Athanasian Creed from its service; the English mother church is afraid +to. There are plenty of Universalists, Number Seven says, in the +Episcopalian and other Protestant churches, but they do not avow their +belief in any frank and candid fashion. The churches know very well, he +maintains, that the fear of everlasting punishment more than any or all +other motives is the source of their power and the support of their +organizations. Not only are the fears of mankind the whip to scourge and +the bridle to restrain them, but they are the basis of an almost +incalculable material interest. "Talk about giving up the doctrine of +endless punishment by fire!" exclaimed Number Seven; "there is more +capital embarked in the subterranean fire-chambers than in all the +iron-furnaces on the face of the earth. To think what an army of +clerical beggars would be turned loose on the world, if once those raging +flames were allowed to go out or to calm down! Who can wonder that the +old conservatives draw back startled and almost frightened at the thought +that there may be a possible escape for some victims whom the Devil was +thought to have secured? How many more generations will pass before +Milton's alarming prophecy will find itself realized in the belief of +civilized mankind?" + +Remember that Number Seven is called a "crank" by many persons, and take +his remarks for just what they are worth, and no more. + +Out of the preceding conversation must have originated the following +poem, which was found in the common receptacle of these versified +contributions: + + TARTARUS. + + While in my simple gospel creed + That "God is Love" so plain I read, + Shall dreams of heathen birth affright + My pathway through the coming night? + Ah, Lord of life, though spectres pale + Fill with their threats the shadowy vale, + With Thee my faltering steps to aid, + How can I dare to be afraid? + + Shall mouldering page or fading scroll + Outface the charter of the soul? + Shall priesthood's palsied arm protect + The wrong our human hearts reject, + And smite the lips whose shuddering cry + Proclaims a cruel creed a lie? + The wizard's rope we disallow + Was justice once,--is murder now! + + Is there a world of blank despair, + And dwells the Omnipresent there? + Does He behold with smile serene + The shows of that unending scene, + Where sleepless, hopeless anguish lies, + And, ever dying, never dies? + + Say, does He hear the sufferer's groan, + And is that child of wrath his own? + O mortal, wavering in thy trust, + Lift thy pale forehead from the dust + The mists that cloud thy darkened eyes + Fade ere they reach the o'erarching skies! + When the blind heralds of despair + Would bid thee doubt a Father's care, + Look up from earth, and read above + On heaven's blue tablet, GOD IS LOVE! + + + + +XI + + The tea is sweetened. + +We have been going on very pleasantly of late, each of us pretty well +occupied with his or her special business. The Counsellor has been +pleading in a great case, and several of The Teacups were in the +court-room. I thought, but I will not be certain, that some of his +arguments were addressed to Number Five rather than to the jury,--the +more eloquent passages especially. + +Our young Doctor seems to me to be gradually getting known in the +neighborhood and beyond it. A member of one of the more influential +families, whose regular physician has gone to Europe, has sent for him to +come and see her, and as the patient is a nervous lady, who has nothing +in particular the matter with her, he is probably in for a good many +visits and a long bill by and by. He has even had a call at a distance +of some miles from home,--at least he has had to hire a conveyance +frequently of late, for he has not yet set up his own horse and chaise. +We do not like to ask him about who his patient may be, but he or she is +probably a person of some consequence, as he is absent several hours on +these out-of-town visits. He may get a good practice before his bald +spot makes its appearance, for I have looked for it many times without as +yet seeing a sign of it. I am sure he must feel encouraged, for he has +been very bright and cheerful of late; and if he sometimes looks at our +new handmaid as if he wished she were Delilah, I do not think he is +breaking his heart about her absence. Perhaps he finds consolation in +the company of the two Annexes, or one of them,--but which, I cannot make +out. He is in consultations occasionally with Number Five, too, but +whether professionally or not I have no means of knowing. I cannot for +the life of me see what Number Five wants of a doctor for herself, so +perhaps it is another difficult case in which her womanly sagacity is +called upon to help him. + +In the mean time she and the Tutor continue their readings. In fact, it +seems as if these readings were growing more frequent, and lasted longer +than they did at first. There is a little arbor in the grounds connected +with our place of meeting, and sometimes they have gone there for their +readings. Some of The Teacups have listened outside once in a while, for +the Tutor reads well, and his clear voice must be heard in the more +emphatic passages, whether one is expressly listening or not. But +besides the reading there is now and then some talking, and persons +talking in an arbor do not always remember that latticework, no matter +how closely the vines cover it, is not impenetrable to the sound of the +human voice. There was a listener one day,--it was not one of The +Teacups, I am happy to say,--who heard and reported some fragments of a +conversation which reached his ear. Nothing but the profound intimacy +which exists between myself and the individual reader whose eyes are on +this page would induce me to reveal what I was told of this conversation. +The first words seem to have been in reply to some question. + +"Why, my dear friend, how can you think of such a thing? Do you know--I +am--old enough to be your--[I think she must have been on the point of +saying mother, but that was more than any woman could be expected to +say]--old enough to be your aunt?" + +"To be sure you are," answered the Tutor, "and what of it? I have two +aunts, both younger than I am. Your years may be more than mine, but +your life is fuller of youthful vitality than mine is. I never feel so +young as when I have been with you. I don't believe in settling +affinities by the almanac. You know what I have told you more than once; +you have n't 'bared the ice-cold dagger's edge' upon me yet; may I not +cherish the".... + +What a pity that the listener did not hear the rest of the sentence and +the reply to it, if there was one! The readings went on the same as +before, but I thought that Number Five was rather more silent and more +pensive than she had been. + +I was much pleased when the American Annex came to me one day and told me +that she and the English Annex were meditating an expedition, in which +they wanted the other Teacups to join. About a dozen miles from us is an +educational institution of the higher grade, where a large number of +young ladies are trained in literature, art, and science, very much as +their brothers are trained in the colleges. Our two young ladies have +already been through courses of this kind in different schools, and are +now busy with those more advanced studies which are ventured upon by only +a limited number of "graduates." They have heard a good deal about this +institution, but have never visited it. + +Every year, as the successive classes finish their course, there is a +grand reunion of the former students, with an "exhibition," as it is +called, in which the graduates of the year have an opportunity of showing +their proficiency in the various branches taught. On that occasion +prizes are awarded for excellence in different departments. It would be +hard to find a more interesting ceremony. These girls, now recognized as +young ladies, are going forth as missionaries of civilization among our +busy people. They are many of them to be teachers, and those who have +seen what opportunities they have to learn will understand their fitness +for that exalted office. Many are to be the wives and mothers of the +generation next coming upon the stage. Young and beautiful, "youth is +always beautiful," said old Samuel Rogers,--their countenances radiant +with developed intelligence, their complexions, their figures, their +movements, all showing that they have had plenty of outdoor as well as +indoor exercise, and have lived well in all respects, one would like to +read on the wall of the hall where they are assembled,-- + + Siste, viator! + Si uxorem requiris, circumspice! + +This proposed expedition was a great event in our comparatively quiet +circle. The Mistress, who was interested in the school, undertook to be +the matron of the party. The young Doctor, who knew the roads better +than any of us, was to be our pilot. He arranged it so that he should +have the two Annexes under his more immediate charge. We were all on the +lookout to see which of the two was to be the favored one, for it was +pretty well settled among The Teacups that a wife he must have, whether +the bald spot came or not; he was getting into business, and he could not +achieve a complete success as a bachelor. + +Number Five and the Tutor seemed to come together as a matter of course. +I confess that I could not help regretting that our pretty Delilah was +not to be one of the party. She always looked so young, so fresh,--she +would have enjoyed the excursion so much, that if she had been still with +us I would have told the Mistress that she must put on her best dress; +and if she had n't one nice enough, I would give her one myself. I +thought, too, that our young Doctor would have liked to have her with us; +but he appeared to be getting along very well with the Annexes, one of +whom it seems likely that he will annex to himself and his fortunes, if +she fancies him, which is not improbable. + +The organizing of this expedition was naturally a cause of great +excitement among The Teacups. The party had to be arranged in such a way +as to suit all concerned, which was a delicate matter. It was finally +managed in this way: The Mistress was to go with a bodyguard, consisting +of myself, the Professor, and Number Seven, who was good company, with +all his oddities. The young Doctor was to take the two Annexes in a +wagon, and the Tutor was to drive Number Five in a good old-fashioned +chaise drawn by a well-conducted family horse. As for the Musician, he +had gone over early, by special invitation, to take a part in certain +musical exercises which were to have a place in the exhibition. This +arrangement appeared to be in every respect satisfactory. The Doctor was +in high spirits, apparently delighted, and devoting himself with great +gallantry to his two fair companions. The only question which intruded +itself was, whether he might not have preferred the company of one to +that of two. But both looked very attractive in their best dresses: the +English Annex, the rosier and heartier of the two; the American girl, +more delicate in features, more mobile and excitable, but suggesting the +thought that she would tire out before the other. Which of these did he +most favor? It was hard to say. He seemed to look most at the English +girl, and yet he talked more with the American girl. In short, he +behaved particularly well, and neither of the young ladies could complain +that she was not attended to. As to the Tutor and Number Five, their +going together caused no special comment. Their intimacy was accepted as +an established fact, and nothing but the difference in their ages +prevented the conclusion that it was love, and not mere friendship, which +brought them together. There was, no doubt, a strong feeling among many +people that Number Five's affections were a kind of Gibraltar or +Ehrenbreitstein, say rather a high table-land in the region of perpetual, +unmelting snow. It was hard for these people to believe that any man of +mortal mould could find a foothold in that impregnable fortress,--could +climb to that height and find the flower of love among its glaciers. The +Tutor and Number Five were both quiet, thoughtful: he, evidently +captivated; she, what was the meaning of her manner to him? Say that she +seemed fond of him, as she might be were he her nephew,--one for whom she +had a special liking. If she had a warmer feeling than this, she could +hardly know how to manage it; for she was so used to having love made to +her without returning it that she would naturally be awkward in dealing +with the new experience. + +The Doctor drove a lively five-year-old horse, and took the lead. The +Tutor followed with a quiet, steady-going nag; if he had driven the +five-year-old, I would not have answered for the necks of the pair in the +chaise, for he was too much taken up with the subject they were talking +of, to be very careful about his driving. The Mistress and her escort +brought up the rear,--I holding the reins, the Professor at my side, and +Number Seven sitting with the Mistress. + +We arrived at the institution a little later than we had expected to, and +the students were flocking into the hall, where the Commencement +exercises were to take place, and the medal-scholars were to receive the +tokens of their excellence in the various departments. From our seats we +could see the greater part of the assembly,--not quite all, however of +the pupils. A pleasing sight it was to look upon, this array of young +ladies dressed in white, with their class badges, and with the ribbon of +the shade of blue affected by the scholars of the institution. If +Solomon in all his glory was not to be compared to a lily, a whole bed of +lilies could not be compared to this garden-bed of youthful womanhood. + +The performances were very much the same as most of us have seen at the +academies and collegiate schools. Some of the graduating class read +their "compositions," one of which was a poem,--an echo of the prevailing +American echoes, of course, but prettily worded and intelligently read. +Then there was a song sung by a choir of the pupils, led by their +instructor, who was assisted by the Musician whom we count among The +Teacups.--There was something in one of the voices that reminded me of +one I had heard before. Where could it have been? I am sure I cannot +remember. There are some good voices in our village choir, but none so +pure and bird-like as this. A sudden thought came into my head, but I +kept it to myself. I heard a tremulous catching of the breath, something +like a sob, close by me. It was the Mistress,--she was crying. What was +she crying for? It was impressive, certainly, to listen to these young +voices, many of them blending for the last time,--for the scholars were +soon to be scattered all over the country, and some of them beyond its +boundaries,--but why the Mistress was so carried away, I did not know. +She must be more impressible than most of us; yet I thought Number Five +also looked as if she were having a struggle with herself to keep down +some rebellious signs of emotion. + +The exercises went on very pleasingly until they came to the awarding of +the gold medal of the year and the valedictory, which was to be delivered +by the young lady to whom it was to be presented. The name was called; +it was one not unfamiliar to our ears, and the bearer of it--the Delilah +of our tea-table, Avis as she was known in the school and elsewhere--rose +in her place and came forward, so that for the first time on that day, we +looked upon her. It was a sensation for The Teacups. Our modest, quiet +waiting-girl was the best scholar of her year. We had talked French +before her, and we learned that she was the best French scholar the +teacher had ever had in the school. We had never thought of her except as +a pleasing and well-trained handmaiden, and here she was an accomplished +young lady. + +Avis went through her part very naturally and gracefully, and when it was +finished, and she stood before us with the medal glittering on her +breast, we did not know whether to smile or to cry,--some of us did one, +and some the other.--We all had an opportunity to see her and +congratulate her before we left the institution. The mystery of her six +weeks' serving at our table was easily solved. She had been studying too +hard and too long, and required some change of scene and occupation. She +had a fancy for trying to see if she could support herself as so many +young women are obliged to, and found a place with us, the Mistress only +knowing her secret. + +"She is to be our young Doctor's wife!" the Mistress whispered to me, and +did some more crying, not for grief, certainly. + +Whether our young Doctor's long visits to a neighboring town had anything +to do with the fact that Avis was at that institution, whether she was +the patient he visited or not, may be left in doubt. At all events, he +had always driven off in the direction which would carry him to the place +where she was at school. + +I have attended a large number of celebrations, commencements, banquets, +soirees, and so forth, and done my best to help on a good many of them. +In fact, I have become rather too well known in connection with +"occasions," and it has cost me no little trouble. I believe there is no +kind of occurrence for which I have not been requested to contribute +something in prose or verse. It is sometimes very hard to say no to the +requests. If one is in the right mood when he or she writes an +occasional poem, it seems as if nothing could have been easier. "Why, +that piece run off jest like ile. I don't bullieve," the unlettered +applicant says to himself, "I don't bullieve it took him ten minutes to +write them verses." The good people have no suspicion of how much a +single line, a single expression, may cost its author. The wits used to +say that Ropers,--the poet once before referred to, old Samuel Ropers, +author of the Pleasures of Memory and giver of famous breakfasts,--was +accustomed to have straw laid before the house whenever he had just given +birth to a couplet. It is not quite so bad as that with most of us who +are called upon to furnish a poem, a song, a hymn, an ode for some grand +meeting, but it is safe to say that many a trifling performance has had +more good honest work put into it than the minister's sermon of that week +had cost him. If a vessel glides off the ways smoothly and easily at her +launching, it does not mean that no great pains have been taken to secure +the result. Because a poem is an "occasional" one, it does not follow +that it has not taken as much time and skill as if it had been written +without immediate, accidental, temporary motive. Pindar's great odes +were occasional poems, just as much as our Commencement and Phi Beta +Kappa poems are, and yet they have come down among the most precious +bequests of antiquity to modern times. + +The mystery of the young Doctor's long visits to the neighboring town was +satisfactorily explained by what we saw and heard of his relations with +our charming "Delilah,"--for Delilah we could hardly help calling her. +Our little handmaid, the Cinderella of the teacups, now the princess, or, +what was better, the pride of the school to which she had belonged, fit +for any position to which she might be called, was to be the wife of our +young Doctor. It would not have been the right thing to proclaim the +fact while she was a pupil, but now that she had finished her course of +instruction there was no need of making a secret of the engagement. + +So we have got our romance, our love-story out of our Teacups, as I hoped +and expected that we should, but not exactly in the quarter where it +might have been looked for. + +What did our two Annexes say to this unexpected turn of events? They +were good-hearted girls as ever lived, but they were human, like the rest +of us, and women, like some of the rest of us. They behaved perfectly. +They congratulated the Doctor, and hoped he would bring the young lady to +the tea-table where she had played her part so becomingly. It is safe to +say that each of the Annexes world have liked to be asked the lover's +last question by the very nice young man who had been a pleasant +companion at the table and elsewhere to each of them. That same question +is the highest compliment a man can pay a woman, and a woman does not +mind having a dozen or more such compliments to string on the rosary of +her remembrances. Whether either of them was glad, on the whole, that he +had not offered himself to the other in preference to herself would be a +mean, shabby question, and I think altogether too well of you who are +reading this paper to suppose that you would entertain the idea of asking +it. + +It was a very pleasant occasion when the Doctor brought Avis over to sit +with us at the table where she used to stand and wait upon us. We +wondered how we could for a moment have questioned that she was one to be +waited upon, and not made for the humble office which nevertheless she +performed so cheerfully and so well. + + Commencements and other Celebrations, American and English. + +The social habits of our people have undergone an immense change within +the past half century, largely in consequence of the vast development of +the means of intercourse between different neighborhoods. + +Commencements, college gatherings of all kinds, church assemblages, +school anniversaries, town centennials,--all possible occasions for +getting crowds together are made the most of. "'T is sixty years +since,"--and a good many years over,--the time to which my memory +extends. The great days of the year were, Election,--General Election on +Wednesday, and Artillery Election on the Monday following, at which time +lilacs were in bloom and 'lection buns were in order; Fourth of July, +when strawberries were just going out; and Commencement, a grand time of +feasting, fiddling, dancing, jollity, not to mention drunkenness and +fighting, on the classic green of Cambridge. This was the season of +melons and peaches. That is the way our boyhood chronicles events. It +was odd that the literary festival should be turned into a Donnybrook +fair, but so it was when I was a boy, and the tents and the shows and the +crowds on the Common were to the promiscuous many the essential parts of +the great occasion. They had been so for generations, and it was only +gradually that the Cambridge Saturnalia were replaced by the decencies +and solemnities of the present sober anniversary. + +Nowadays our celebrations smack of the Sunday-school more than of the +dancing-hall. The aroma of the punch-bowl has given way to the milder +flavor of lemonade and the cooling virtues of ice-cream. A strawberry +festival is about as far as the dissipation of our social gatherings +ventures. There was much that was objectionable in those swearing, +drinking, fighting times, but they had a certain excitement for us boys +of the years when the century was in its teens, which comes back to us +not without its fascinations. The days of total abstinence are a great +improvement over those of unlicensed license, but there was a picturesque +element about the rowdyism of our old Commencement days, which had a +charm for the eye of boyhood. My dear old friend,--book-friend, I +mean,--whom I always called Daddy Gilpin (as I find Fitzgerald called +Wordsworth, Daddy Wordsworth),--my old friend Gilpin, I say, considered +the donkey more picturesque in a landscape than the horse. So a village +fete as depicted by Teniers is more picturesque than a teetotal picnic or +a Sabbath-school strawberry festival. Let us be thankful that the +vicious picturesque is only a remembrance, and the virtuous commonplace a +reality of to-day. + +What put all this into my head is something which the English Annex has +been showing me. Most of my readers are somewhat acquainted with our own +church and village celebrations. They know how they are organized; the +women always being the chief motors, and the machinery very much the same +in one case as in another. Perhaps they would like to hear how such +things are managed in England; and that is just what they may learn from +the pamphlet which was shown me by the English Annex, and of which I will +give them a brief account. + +Some of us remember the Rev. Mr. Haweis, his lectures and his violin, +which interested and amused us here in Boston a few years ago. Now Mr. +Haweis, assisted by his intelligent and spirited wife, has charge of the +parish of St. James, Westmoreland Street, Marylebone, London. On entering +upon the twenty-fifth year of his incumbency in Marylebone, and the +twenty-eighth of his ministry in the diocese of London, it was thought a +good idea to have an "Evening Conversazione and Fete." We can imagine +just how such a meeting would be organized in one of our towns. +Ministers, deacons, perhaps a member of Congress, possibly a Senator, and +even, conceivably, his Excellency the Governor, and a long list of ladies +lend their names to give lustre to the occasion. It is all very +pleasant, unpretending, unceremonious, cheerful, well ordered, +commendable, but not imposing. + +Now look at our Marylebone parish celebration, and hold your breath while +the procession of great names passes before you. You learn at the outset +that it is held UNDER ROYAL PATRONAGE, and read the names of two royal +highnesses, one highness, a prince, and a princess. Then comes a list +before which if you do not turn pale, you must certainly be in the habit +of rouging: three earls, seven lords, three bishops, two generals (one of +them Lord Wolseley), one admiral, four baronets, nine knights, a crowd of +right honorable and honorable ladies (many of them peeresses), and a mob +of other personages, among whom I find Mr. Howells, Bret Harte, and +myself. + +Perhaps we are disposed to smile at seeing so much made of titles; but +after what we have learned of Lord Timothy Dexter and the high-sounding +names appropriated by many of our own compatriots, who have no more claim +to them than we plain Misters and Misseses, we may feel to them something +as our late friend Mr. Appleton felt to the real green turtle soup set +before him, when he said that it was almost as good as mock. + +The entertainment on this occasion was of the most varied character. The +programme makes the following announcement: + + Friday, 4 July, 18-. + + At 8 P. M. the Doors will Open. + Mr. Haweis will receive his Friends. + The Royal Handbell Ringers will Ring. + The Fish-pond will be Fished. + The Stalls will be Visited. + The Phonograph will Utter. + +Refreshments will be called for, and they will come,--Tea, Coffee, and +Cooling Drinks. Spirits will not be called for, from the Vasty Deep or +anywhere else,--nor would they come if they were. + +At 9.30 Mrs. Haweis will join the assembly. + +I am particularly delighted with this last feature in the preliminary +announcement. It is a proof of the high regard in which the estimable +and gifted lady who shares her husband's labors is held by the people of +their congregation, and the friends who share in their feelings. It is +such a master stroke of policy, too, to keep back the principal +attraction until the guests must have grown eager for her appearance: I +can well imagine how great a saving it must have been to the good lady's +nerves, which were probably pretty well tried already by the fatigues and +responsibilities of the busy evening. I have a right to say this, for I +myself had the honor of attending a meeting at Mr. Haweis's house, where +I was a principal guest, as I suppose, from the fact of the great number +of persons who were presented to me. The minister must be very popular, +for the meeting was a regular jam,--not quite so tremendous as that +greater one, where but for the aid of Mr. Smalley, who kept open a +breathing-space round us, my companion and myself thought we should have +been asphyxiated. + +The company was interested, as some of my readers maybe, to know what +were the attractions offered to the visitors besides that of meeting the +courteous entertainers and their distinguished guests. I cannot give +these at length, for each part of the show is introduced in the programme +with apt quotations and pleasantries, which enlivened the catalogue. +There were eleven stalls, "conducted on the cooperative principle of +division of profits and interest; they retain the profits, and you take a +good deal of interest, we hope, in their success." + +Stall No. 1. Edisoniana, or the Phonograph. Alluded to by the Roman +Poet as Vox, et praeterea nihil. + +Stall No. 2. Money-changing. + +Stall No. 3. Programmes and General Enquiries. + +Stall No. 4. Roses. + +A rose by any other name, etc. Get one. You can't expect to smell one +without buying it, but you may buy one without smelling it. + +Stall No. 5. Lasenby Liberty Stall. (I cannot explain this. Probably +articles from Liberty's famous establishment.) + +Stall No. 6. Historical Costumes and Ceramics. + +Stall No. 7. The Fish-pond. + +Stall No. 8. Varieties. + +Stall No. 9. Bookstall. (Books) "highly recommended for insomnia; +friends we never speak to, and always cut if we want to know them well." + +Stall No. 10. Icelandic. + +Stall No. 11. Call Office. "Mrs. Magnusson, who is devoted to the North +Pole and all its works, will thaw your sympathies, enlighten your minds," +etc., etc. + +All you buy may be left at the stalls, ticketed. A duplicate ticket will +be handed to you on leaving. Present your duplicate at the Call Office. + +At 9.45, First Concert. + +At 10.45, An Address of Welcome by Rev. H. R. Haweis. + +At 11 P. M., Bird-warbling Interlude by Miss Mabel Stephenson, U. S. A. + +At 11.20, Second Concert. + + NOTICE! + +Three Great Pictures. + +LORD TENNYSON. G. F. Watts, R. A. JOHN STUART MILL G. F. Watts, R. A. +JOSEPH GARIBALDI Sig. Rondi. + + NOTICE! + +A Famous Violin. + +A world-famed Stradivarius Violin, for which Mr. Hill, of Bond Street, +gave L 1000, etc., etc. + + REFRESHMENTS. + +Tickets for Tea, Coffee, Sandwiches, Iced Drinks, or Ices, Sixpence each, +etc., etc. + +I hope my American reader is pleased and interested by this glimpse of +the way in which they do these things in London. + +There is something very pleasant about all this, but what specially +strikes me is a curious flavor of city provincialism. There are little +centres in the heart of great cities, just as there are small fresh-water +ponds in great islands with the salt sea roaring all round them, and bays +and creeks penetrating them as briny as the ocean itself. Irving has +given a charming picture of such a quasi-provincial centre in one of his +papers in the Sketch-Book,--the one with the title "Little Britain." +London is a nation of itself, and contains provinces, districts, foreign +communities, villages, parishes,--innumerable lesser centres, with their +own distinguishing characteristics, habits, pursuit, languages, social +laws, as much isolated from each other as if "mountains interposed" made +the separation between them. One of these lesser centres is that over +which my friend Mr. Haweis presides as spiritual director. Chelsea has +been made famous as the home of many authors and artists,--above all, as +the residence of Carlyle during the greater part of his life. Its +population, like that of most respectable suburbs, must belong mainly to +the kind of citizens which resembles in many ways the better class,--as +we sometimes dare to call it,--of one of our thriving New England towns. +How many John Gilpins there must be in this population,--citizens of +"famous London town," but living with the simplicity of the inhabitants +of our inland villages! In the mighty metropolis where the wealth of the +world displays itself they practise their snug economies, enjoy their +simple pleasures, and look upon ice-cream as a luxury, just as if they +were living on the banks of the Connecticut or the Housatonic, in regions +where the summer locusts of the great cities have not yet settled on the +verdure of the native inhabitants. It is delightful to realize the fact +that while the West End of London is flaunting its splendors and the East +End in struggling with its miseries, these great middle-class communities +are living as comfortable, unpretending lives as if they were in one of +our thriving townships in the huckleberry-districts. Human beings are +wonderfully alike when they are placed in similar conditions. + +We were sitting together in a very quiet way over our teacups. The young +Doctor, who was in the best of spirits, had been laughing and chatting +with the two Annexes. The Tutor, who always sits next to Number Five of +late, had been conversing with her in rather low tones. The rest of us +had been soberly sipping our tea, and when the Doctor and the Annexes +stopped talking there was one of those dead silences which are sometimes +so hard to break in upon, and so awkward while they last. All at once +Number Seven exploded in a loud laugh, which startled everybody at the +table. + +What is it that sets you laughing so? said I. + +"I was thinking," Number Seven replied, "of what you said the other day +of poetry being only the ashes of emotion. I believe that some people +are disposed to dispute the proposition. I have been putting your +doctrine to the test. In doing it I made some rhymes,--the first and +only ones I ever made. I will suppose a case of very exciting emotion, +and see whether it would probably take the form of poetry or prose. You +are suddenly informed that your house is on fire, and have to scramble +out of it, without stopping to tie your neck-cloth neatly or to put a +flower in your buttonhole. Do you think a poet turning out in his +night-dress, and looking on while the flames were swallowing his home and +all its contents, would express himself in this style? + + "My house is on fire! + Bring me my lyre! + Like the flames that rise heavenward my song shall aspire! + +"He would n't do any such thing, and you know he wouldn't. He would yell +Fire! Fire! with all his might. Not much rhyming for him just yet! +Wait until the fire is put out, and he has had time to look at the +charred timbers and the ashes of his home, and in the course of a week he +may possibly spin a few rhymes about it. Or suppose he was making an +offer of his hand and heart, do you think he would declaim a versified +proposal to his Amanda, or perhaps write an impromptu on the back of his +hat while he knelt before her? + + "My beloved, to you + I will always be true. + Oh, pray make me happy, my love, do! do! do! + +"What would Amanda think of a suitor who courted her with a rhyming +dictionary in his pocket to help him make love?" + +You are right, said I,--there's nothing in the world like rhymes to cool +off a man's passion. You look at a blacksmith working on a bit of iron +or steel. Bright enough it looked while it was on the hearth, in the +midst of the sea-coal, the great bellows blowing away, and the rod or the +horse-shoe as red or as white as the burning coals. How it fizzes as it +goes into the trough of water, and how suddenly all the glow is gone! It +looks black and cold enough now. Just so with your passionate +incandescence. It is all well while it burns and scintillates in your +emotional centres, without articulate and connected expression; but the +minute you plunge it into the rhyme-trough it cools down, and becomes as +dead and dull as the cold horse-shoe. It is true that if you lay it cold +on the anvil and hammer away on it for a while it warms up somewhat. +Just so with the rhyming fellow,--he pounds away on his verses and they +warm up a little. But don't let him think that this afterglow of +composition is the same thing as the original passion. That found +expression in a few oh, oh's, eheu's, helas, helas's, and when the +passion had burned itself out you got the rhymed verses, which, as I have +said, are its ashes. + +I thanked Number Seven for his poetical illustration of my thesis. There +is great good to be got out of a squinting brain, if one only knows how +to profit by it. We see only one side of the moon, you know, but a +fellow with a squinting brain seems now and then to get a peep at the +other side. I speak metaphorically. He takes new and startling views of +things we have always looked at in one particular aspect. There is a +rule invariably to be observed with one of this class of intelligences: +Never contradict a man with a squinting brain. I say a man, because I do +not think that squinting brains are nearly so common in women as they are +in men. The "eccentrics" are, I think, for the most part of the male +sex. + +That leads me to say that persons with a strong instinctive tendency to +contradiction are apt to become unprofitable companions. Our thoughts +are plants that never flourish in inhospitable soils or chilling +atmospheres. They are all started under glass, so to speak; that is, +sheltered and fostered in our own warm and sunny consciousness. They +must expect some rough treatment when we lift the sash from the frame and +let the outside elements in upon them. They can bear the rain and the +breezes, and be all the better for them; but perpetual contradiction is a +pelting hailstorm, which spoils their growth and tends to kill them out +altogether. + +Now stop and consider a moment. Are not almost all brains a little +wanting in bilateral symmetry? Do you not find in persons whom you love, +whom you esteem, and even admire, some marks of obliquity in mental +vision? Are there not some subjects in looking at which it seems to you +impossible that they should ever see straight? Are there not moods in +which it seems to you that they are disposed to see all things out of +plumb and in false relations with each other? If you answer these +questions in the affirmative, then you will be glad of a hint as to the +method of dealing with your friends who have a touch of cerebral +strabismus, or are liable to occasional paroxysms of perversity. Let +them have their head. Get them talking on subjects that interest them. +As a rule, nothing is more likely to serve this purpose than letting them +talk about themselves; if authors, about their writings; if artists, +about their pictures or statues; and generally on whatever they have most +pride in and think most of their own relations with. + +Perhaps you will not at first sight agree with me in thinking that slight +mental obliquity is as common as I suppose. An analogy may have some +influence on your belief in this matter. Will you take the trouble to +ask your tailor how many persons have their two shoulders of the same +height? I think he will tell you that the majority of his customers show +a distinct difference of height on the two sides. Will you ask a +portrait-painter how many of those who sit to hint have both sides of +their faces exactly alike? I believe he will tell you that one side is +always a little better than the other. What will your hatter say about +the two sides of the head? Do you see equally well with both eyes, and +hear equally well with both ears? Few persons past middle age will +pretend that they do. Why should the two halves of a brain not show a +natural difference, leading to confusion of thought, and very possibly to +that instinct of contradiction of which I was speaking? A great deal of +time is lost in profitless conversation, and a good deal of ill temper +frequently caused, by not considering these organic and practically +insuperable conditions. In dealing with them, acquiescence is the best +of palliations and silence the sovereign specific. + +I have been the reporter, as you have seen, of my own conversation and +that of the other Teacups. I have told some of the circumstances of +their personal history, and interested, as I hope, here and there a +reader in the fate of different members of our company. Here are our +pretty Delilah and our Doctor provided for. We may take it for granted +that it will not be very long that the young couple will have to wait; +for, as I have told you all, the Doctor is certainly getting into +business, and bids fair to have a thriving practice before he saddles his +nose with an eyeglass and begins to think of a pair of spectacles. So +that part of our little domestic drama is over, and we can only wish the +pair that is to be all manner of blessings consistent with a reasonable +amount of health in the community on whose ailings must depend their +prosperity. + +All our thoughts are now concentrated on the relation existing between +Number Five and the Tutor. That there is some profound instinctive +impulse which is drawing them closer together no one who watches them can +for a moment doubt. There are two principles of attraction which bring +different natures together: that in which the two natures closely +resemble each other, and that in which one is complementary of the other. +In the first case, they coalesce, as do two drops of water or of mercury, +and become intimately blended as soon as they touch; in the other, they +rush together as an acid and an alkali unite, predestined from eternity +to find all they most needed in each other. What is the condition of +things in the growing intimacy of Number Five and the Tutor? He is many +years her junior, as we know. Both of them look that fact squarely in the +face. The presumption is against the union of two persons under these +circumstances. Presumptions are strong obstacles against any result we +wish to attain, but half our work in life is to overcome them. A great +many results look in the distance like six-foot walls, and when we get +nearer prove to be only five-foot hurdles, to be leaped over or knocked +down. Twenty years from now she may be a vigorous and active old woman, +and he a middle-aged, half-worn-out invalid, like so many overworked +scholars. Everything depends on the number of drops of the elixir vitae +which Nature mingled in the nourishment she administered to the embryo +before it tasted its mother's milk. Think of Cleopatra, the bewitching +old mischief-maker; think of Ninon de L'Enclos, whose own son fell +desperately in love with her, not knowing the relation in which she stood +to him; think of Dr. Johnson's friend, Mrs. Thrale, afterward Mrs. +Piozzi, who at the age of eighty was full enough of life to be making +love ardently and persistently to Conway, the handsome young actor. I +can readily believe that Number Five will outlive the Tutor, even if he +is fortunate enough rather in winning his way into the fortress through +gates that open to him of their own accord. If he fails in his siege, I +do really believe he will die early; not of a broken heart, exactly, but +of a heart starved, with the food it was craving close to it, but +unattainable. I have, therefore, a deep interest in knowing how Number +Five and the Tutor are getting along together. Is there any danger of +one or the other growing tired of the intimacy, and becoming willing to +get rid of it, like a garment which has shrunk and grown too tight? Is +it likely that some other attraction may come into disturb the existing +relation? The problem is to my mind not only interesting, but +exceptionally curious. You remember the story of Cymon and Iphigenia as +Dryden tells it. The poor youth has the capacity of loving, but it lies +hidden in his undeveloped nature. All at once he comes upon the sleeping +beauty, and is awakened by her charms to a hitherto unfelt consciousness. +With the advent of the new passion all his dormant faculties start into +life, and the seeming simpleton becomes the bright and intelligent lover. +The case of Number Five is as different from that of Cymon as it could +well be. All her faculties are wide awake, but one emotional side of her +nature has never been called into active exercise. Why has she never +been in love with any one of her suitors? Because she liked too many of +them. Do you happen to remember a poem printed among these papers, +entitled "I Like You and I Love You" + +No one of the poems which have been placed in the urn,--that is, in the +silver sugar-bowl,--has had any name attached to it; but you could guess +pretty nearly who was the author of some of them, certainly of the one +just, referred to. Number Five was attracted to the Tutor from the first +time he spoke to her. She dreamed about him that night, and nothing +idealizes and renders fascinating one in whom we have already an interest +like dreaming of him or of her. Many a calm suitor has been made +passionate by a dream; many a passionate lover has been made wild and +half beside himself by a dream; and now and then an infatuated but +hapless lover, waking from a dream of bliss to a cold reality of +wretchedness, has helped himself to eternity before he was summoned to +the table. + +Since Number Five had dreamed about the Tutor, he had been more in her +waking thoughts than she was willing to acknowledge. These thoughts were +vague, it is true,--emotions, perhaps, rather than worded trains of +ideas; but she was conscious of a pleasing excitement as his name or his +image floated across her consciousness; she sometimes sighed as she +looked over the last passage they had read from the same book, and +sometimes when they were together they were silent too long,--too long! +What were they thinking of? + +And so it was all as plain sailing for Number Five and the young Tutor as +it had been for Delilah and the young Doctor, was it? Do you think so? +Then you do not understand Number Five. Many a woman has as many +atmospheric rings about her as the planet Saturn. Three are easily to be +recognized. First, there is the wide ring of attraction which draws into +itself all that once cross its outer border. These revolve about her +without ever coming any nearer. Next is the inner ring of attraction. +Those who come within its irresistible influence are drawn so close that +it seems as if they must become one with her sooner or later. But within +this ring is another,--an atmospheric girdle, one of repulsion, which +love, no matter how enterprising, no matter how prevailing or how +insinuating, has never passed, and, if we judge of what is to be by what +has been, never will. Perhaps Nature loved Number Five so well that she +grudged her to any mortal man, and gave her this inner girdle of +repulsion to guard her from all who would know her too nearly and love +her too well. Sometimes two vessels at sea keep each other company for a +long distance, it may be daring a whole voyage. Very pleasant it is to +each to have a companion to exchange signals with from time to time; to +came near enough, when the winds are light, to hold converse in ordinary +tones from deck to deck; to know that, in case of need, there's help at +hand. It is good for them to be near each other, but not good to be too +near. Woe is to them if they touch! The wreck of one or both is likely +to be the consequence. And so two well-equipped and heavily freighted +natures may be the best of companions to each other, and yet must never +attempt to come into closer union. Is this the condition of affairs +between Number Five and the Tutor? I hope not, for I want them to be +joined together in that dearest of intimacies, which, if founded in true +affinity, is the nearest approach to happiness to be looked for in our +mortal, experience. We mast wait. The Teacups will meet once more +before the circle is broken, and we may, perhaps, find the solution of +the question we have raised. + +In the mean time, our young Doctor is playing truant oftener than ever. +He has brought Avis,--if we must call her so, and not Delilah,--several +times to take tea with us. It means something, in these days, to +graduate from one of our first-class academies or collegiate schools. I +shall never forget my first visit to one of these institutions. How much +its pupils know, I said, which I was never taught, and have never +learned! I was fairly frightened to see what a teaching apparatus was +provided for them. I should think the first thing to be done with most +of the husbands, they are likely to get would be to put them through a +course of instruction. The young wives must find their lords wofully +ignorant, in a large proportion of cases. When the wife has educated the +husband to such a point that she can invite him to work out a problem in +the higher mathematics or to perform a difficult chemical analysis with +her as his collaborator, as less instructed dames ask their husbands to +play a game of checkers or backgammon, they can have delightful and +instructive evenings together. I hope our young Doctor will take kindly +to his wife's (that is to be) teachings. + +When the following verses were taken out of the urn, the Mistress asked +me to hand the manuscript to the young Doctor to read. I noticed that he +did not keep his eyes very closely fixed on the paper. It seemed as if +he could have recited the lines without referring to the manuscript at +all. + + AT THE TURN OF THE ROAD. + + The glory has passed from the goldenrod's plume, + The purple-hued asters still linger in bloom; + The birch is bright yellow, the sumachs are red, + The maples like torches aflame overhead. + + But what if the joy of the summer is past, + And winter's wild herald is blowing his blast? + For me dull November is sweeter than May, + For my love is its sunshine,--she meets me to-day! + + Will she come? Will the ring-dove return to her nest? + Will the needle swing back from the east or the west? + At the stroke of the hour she will be at her gate; + A friend may prove laggard,--love never comes late. + + Do I see her afar in the distance? Not yet. + Too early! Too early! She could not forget! + When I cross the old bridge where the brook overflowed, + She will flash full in sight at the turn of the road. + + I pass the low wall where the ivy entwines; + I tread the brown pathway that leads through the pines; + I haste by the boulder that lies in the field, + Where her promise at parting was lovingly sealed. + + Will she come by the hillside or round through the wood? + Will she wear her brown dress or her mantle and hood? + The minute draws near,--but her watch may go wrong; + My heart will be asking, What keeps her so long? + + Why doubt for a moment? More shame if I do! + Why question? Why tremble? Are angels more true? + She would come to the lover who calls her his own + Though she trod in the track of a whirling cyclone! + + --I crossed the old bridge ere the minute had passed. + I looked: lo! my Love stood before me at last. + Her eyes, how they sparkled, her cheeks, how they glowed, + As we met, face to face, at the turn of the road! + + + + +XII + +There was a great tinkling of teaspoons the other evening, when I took my +seat at the table, where all The Teacups were gathered before my +entrance. The whole company arose, and the Mistress, speaking for them, +expressed the usual sentiment appropriate to such occasions. "Many happy +returns" is the customary formula. No matter if the object of this kind +wish is a centenarian, it is quite safe to assume that he is ready and +very willing to accept as many more years as the disposing powers may see +fit to allow him. + +The meaning of it all was that this was my birthday. My friends, near +and distant, had seen fit to remember it, and to let me know in various +pleasant ways that they had not forgotten it. The tables were adorned +with flowers. Gifts of pretty and pleasing objects were displayed on a +side table. A great green wreath, which must have cost the parent oak a +large fraction of its foliage, was an object of special admiration. +Baskets of flowers which had half unpeopled greenhouses, large bouquets +of roses, fragrant bunches of pinks, and many beautiful blossoms I am not +botanist enough to name had been coming in upon me all day long. Many of +these offerings were brought by the givers in person; many came with +notes as fragrant with good wishes as the flowers they accompanied with +their natural perfumes. + +How old was I, The Dictator, once known by another equally audacious +title,--I, the recipient of all these favors and honors? I had cleared +the eight-barred gate, which few come in sight of, and fewer, far fewer, +go over, a year before. I was a trespasser on the domain belonging to +another generation. The children of my coevals were fast getting gray +and bald, and their children beginning to look upon the world as +belonging to them, and not to their sires and grandsires. After that +leap over the tall barrier, it looks like a kind of impropriety to keep +on as if one were still of a reasonable age. Sometimes it seems to me +almost of the nature of a misdemeanor to be wandering about in the +preserve which the fleshless gamekeeper guards so jealously. But, on the +other hand, I remember that men of science have maintained that the +natural life of man is nearer fivescore than threescore years and ten. I +always think of a familiar experience which I bring from the French +cafes, well known to me in my early manhood. One of the illustrated +papers of my Parisian days tells it pleasantly enough. + +A guest of the establishment is sitting at his little table. He has just +had his coffee, and the waiter is serving him with his petit verre. Most +of my readers know very well what a petit verre is, but there may be here +and there a virtuous abstainer from alcoholic fluids, living among the +bayberries and the sweet ferns, who is not aware that the words, as +commonly used, signify a small glass--a very small glass--of spirit, +commonly brandy, taken as a chasse-cafe, or coffee-chaser. This drinking +of brandy, "neat," I may remark by the way, is not quite so bad as it +looks. Whiskey or rum taken unmixed from a tumbler is a knock-down blow +to temperance, but the little thimbleful of brandy, or Chartreuse, or +Maraschino, is only, as it were, tweaking the nose of teetotalism. + +Well,--to go back behind our brackets,--the guest is calling to the +waiter, "Garcon! et le bain de pieds!" Waiter! and the foot-bath!--The +little glass stands in a small tin saucer or shallow dish, and the custom +is to more than fill the glass, so that some extra brandy rung over into +this tin saucer or cup-plate, to the manifest gain of the consumer. + +Life is a petit verre of a very peculiar kind of spirit. At seventy +years it used to be said that the little glass was full. We should be +more apt to put it at eighty in our day, while Gladstone and Tennyson and +our own Whittier are breathing, moving, thinking, writing, speaking, in +the green preserve belonging to their children and grandchildren, and +Bancroft is keeping watch of the gamekeeper in the distance. But, +returning resolutely to the petit verre, I am willing to concede that all +after fourscore is the bain de pieds,--the slopping over, so to speak, of +the full measure of life. I remember that one who was very near and dear +to me, and who lived to a great age, so that the ten-barred gate of the +century did not look very far off, would sometimes apologize in a very +sweet, natural way for lingering so long to be a care and perhaps a +burden to her children, themselves getting well into years. It is not +hard to understand the feeling, never less called for than it was in the +case of that beloved nonagenarian. I have known few persons, young or +old, more sincerely and justly regretted than the gentle lady whose +memory comes up before me as I write. + +Oh, if we could all go out of flower as gracefully, as pleasingly, as we +come into blossom! I always think of the morning-glory as the loveliest +example of a graceful yielding to the inevitable. It is beautiful before +its twisted corolla opens; it is comely as it folds its petals inward, +when its brief hours of perfection are over. Women find it easier than +men to grow old in a becoming way. A very old lady who has kept +something, it may be a great deal, of her youthful feelings, who is +daintily cared for, who is grateful for the attentions bestowed upon her, +and enters into the spirit of the young lives that surround her, is as +precious to those who love her as a gem in an antique setting, the +fashion of which has long gone by, but which leaves the jewel the color +and brightness which are its inalienable qualities. With old men it is +too often different. They do not belong so much indoors as women do. +They have no pretty little manual occupations. The old lady knits or +stitches so long as her eyes and fingers will let her. The old man +smokes his pipe, but does not know what to do with his fingers, unless he +plays upon some instrument, or has a mechanical turn which finds business +for them. + +But the old writer, I said to The Teacups, as I say to you, my readers, +labors under one special difficulty, which I am thinking of and +exemplifying at this moment. He is constantly tending to reflect upon +and discourse about his own particular stage of life. He feels that he +must apologize for his intrusion upon the time and thoughts of a +generation which he naturally supposes must be tired of him, if they ever +had any considerable regard for him. Now, if the world of readers hates +anything it sees in print, it is apology. If what one has to say is +worth saying, he need not beg pardon fur saying it. If it is not worth +saying I will not finish the sentence. But it is so hard to resist the +temptation, notwithstanding that the terrible line beginning "Superfluous +lags the veteran" is always repeating itself in his dull ear! + +What kind of audience or reading parish is a man who secured his +constituency in middle life, or before that period, to expect when he has +reached the age of threescore and twenty? His coevals have dropped away +by scores and tens, and he sees only a few units scattered about here and +there, like the few beads above the water after a ship has gone to +pieces. Does he write and publish for those of his own time of life? He +need not print a large edition. Does he hope to secure a hearing from +those who have come into the reading world since his coevals? They have +found fresher fields and greener pastures. Their interests are in the +out-door, active world. Some of them are circumnavigating the planet +while he is hitching his rocking chair about his hearth-rug. Some are +gazing upon the pyramids while he is staring at his andirons. Some are +settling the tariff and fixing the laws of suffrage and taxation while he +is dozing over the weather bulletin, and going to sleep over the +obituaries in his morning or evening paper. + +Nature is wiser than we give her credit for being; never wiser than in +her dealings with the old. She has no idea of mortifying them by sudden +and wholly unexpected failure of the chief servants of consciousness. +The sight, for instance, begins to lose something of its perfection long +before its deficiency calls the owner's special attention to it. Very +probably, the first hint we have of the change is that a friend makes the +pleasing remark that we are "playing the trombone," as he calls it; that +is, moving a book we are holding backward and forward, to get the right +focal distance. Or it may be we find fault with the lamp or the +gas-burner for not giving so much light as it used to. At last, +somewhere between forty and fifty, we begin to dangle a jaunty pair of +eye-glasses, half plaything and half necessity. In due time a pair of +sober, business-like spectacles bestrides the nose. Old age leaps upon +it as his saddle, and rides triumphant, unchallenged, until the darkness +comes which no glasses can penetrate. Nature is pitiless in carrying out +the universal sentence, but very pitiful in her mode of dealing with the +condemned on his way to the final scene. The man who is to be hanged +always has a good breakfast provided for him. + +Do not think that the old look upon themselves as the helpless, hopeless, +forlorn creatures which they seem to young people. Do these young folks +suppose that all vanity dies out of the natures of old men and old women? +A dentist of olden time told me that a good-looking young man once said +to him, "Keep that incisor presentable, if you can, till I am fifty, and +then I sha'n't care how I look." I venture to say that that gentleman +was as particular about his personal appearance and as proud of his good +looks at fifty, and many years after fifty, as he was in the twenties, +when he made that speech to the dentist. + +My dear friends around the teacups, and at that wider board where I am +now entertaining, or trying to entertain, my company, is it not as plain +to you as it is to me that I had better leave such tasks as that which I +am just finishing to those who live in a more interesting period of life +than one which, in the order of nature, is next door to decrepitude? +Ought I not to regret having undertaken to report the doings and sayings +of the members of the circle which you have known as The Teacups? + +Dear, faithful reader, whose patient eyes have followed my reports +through these long months, you and I are about parting company. Perhaps +you are one of those who have known me under another name, in those +far-off days separated from these by the red sea of the great national +conflict. When you first heard the tinkle of the teaspoons, as the table +was being made ready for its guests, you trembled for me, in the kindness +of your hearts. I do not wonder that you did,--I trembled for myself. +But I remembered the story of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, who was seen all of +a tremor just as he was going into action. "How is this?" said a brother +officer to him. "Surely you are not afraid?" "No," he answered, "but my +flesh trembles at the thought of the dangers into which my intrepid +spirit will carry me." I knew the risk of undertaking to carry through a +series of connected papers. And yet I thought it was better to run that +risk, more manly, more sensible, than to give way to the fears which made +my flesh tremble as did Sir Cloudesley Shovel's. For myself the labor +has been a distraction, and one which came at a time when it was needed. +Sometimes, as in one of those poems recently published,--the reader will +easily guess which,--the youthful spirit has come over me with such a +rush that it made me feel just as I did when I wrote the history of the +"One-hoss Shay" thirty years ago. To repeat one of my comparisons, it +was as if an early fruit had ripened on a graft upon an old, steady-going +tree, to the astonishment of all its later-maturing products. I should +hardly dare to say so much as this if I had not heard a similar opinion +expressed by others. + +Once committed to my undertaking, there was no turning back. It is true +that I had said I might stop at any moment, but after one or two numbers +it seemed as if there were an informal pledge to carry the series on, as +in former cases, until I had completed my dozen instalments. + +Writers and speakers have their idiosyncrasies, their habits, their +tricks, if you had rather call them so, as to their ways of writing and +speaking. There is a very old and familiar story, accompanied by a +feeble jest, which most of my readers may probably enough have met with +in Joe Miller or elsewhere. It is that of a lawyer who could never make +an argument without having a piece of thread to work upon with his +fingers while he was pleading. Some one stole it from him one day, and +he could not get on at all with his speech,--he had lost the thread of +his discourse, as the story had it. Now this is what I myself once saw. +It was at a meeting where certain grave matters were debated in an +assembly of professional men. A speaker, whom I never heard before or +since, got up and made a long and forcible argument. I do not think he +was a lawyer, but he spoke as if he had been trained to talk to juries. +He held a long string in one hand, which he drew through the other band +incessantly, as he spoke, just as a shoe maker performs the motion of +waxing his thread. He appeared to be dependent on this motion. The +physiological significance of the fact I suppose to be that the flow of +what we call the nervous current from the thinking centre to the organs +of speech was rendered freer and easier by the establishment of a +simultaneous collateral nervous current to the set of muscles concerned +in the action I have described. + +I do not use a string to help me write or speak, but I must have its +equivalent. I must have my paper and pen or pencil before me to set my +thoughts flowing in such form that they can be written continuously. +There have been lawyers who could think out their whole argument in +connected order without a single note. There are authors,--and I think +there are many,--who can compose and finish off a poem or a story without +writing a word of it until, when the proper time comes, they copy what +they carry in their heads. I have been told that Sir Edwin Arnold +thought out his beautiful "Light of Asia" in this way. + +I find the great charm of writing consists in its surprises. When one is +in the receptive attitude of mind, the thoughts which are sprung upon +him, the images which flash through his--consciousness, are a delight and +an excitement. I am impatient of every hindrance in setting down my +thoughts,--of a pen that will not write, of ink that will not flow, of +paper that will not receive the ink. And here let me pay the tribute +which I owe to one of the humblest but most serviceable of my assistants, +especially in poetical composition. Nothing seems more prosaic than the +stylographic pen. It deprives the handwriting of its beauty, and to some +extent of its individual character. The brutal communism of the letters +it forms covers the page it fills with the most uniformly uninteresting +characters. But, abuse it as much as you choose, there is nothing like +it for the poet, for the imaginative writer. Many a fine flow of thought +has been checked, perhaps arrested, by the ill behavior of a goose-quill. +Many an idea has escaped while the author was dipping his pen in the +inkstand. But with the stylographic pen, in the hands of one who knows +how to care for it and how to use it, unbroken rhythms and harmonious +cadences are the natural products of the unimpeded flow of the fluid +which is the vehicle of the author's thoughts and fancies. So much for my +debt of gratitude to the humble stylographic pen. It does not furnish +the proper medium for the correspondence of intimates, who wish to see as +much of their friends' personality as their handwriting can hold,--still +less for the impassioned interchange of sentiments between lovers; but in +writing for the press its use is open to no objection. Its movement over +the paper is like the flight of a swallow, while the quill pen and the +steel pen and the gold pen are all taking short, laborious journeys, and +stopping to drink every few minutes. + +A chief pleasure which the author of novels and stories experiences is +that of becoming acquainted with the characters be draws. It is +perfectly true that his characters must, in the nature of things, have +more or less of himself in their composition. If I should seek an +exemplification of this in the person of any of my Teacups, I should find +it most readily in the one whom I have called Number Seven, the one with +the squinting brain. I think that not only I, the writer, but many of my +readers, recognize in our own mental constitution an occasional obliquity +of perception, not always detected at the time, but plain enough when +looked back upon. What extravagant fancies you and I have seriously +entertained at one time or another! What superstitious notions have got +into our heads and taken possession of its empty chambers,--or, in the +language of science, seized on the groups of nerve-cells in some of the +idle cerebral convolutions! + +The writer, I say, becomes acquainted with his characters as he goes on. +They are at first mere embryos, outlines of distinct personalities. By +and by, if they have any organic cohesion, they begin to assert +themselves. They can say and do such and such things; such and such +other things they cannot and must not say or do. The story-writer's and +play-writer's danger is that they will get their characters mixed, and +make A say what B ought to have said. The stronger his imaginative +faculty, the less liable will the writer be to this fault; but not even +Shakespeare's power of throwing himself into his characters prevents many +of his different personages from talking philosophy in the same strain +and in a style common to them all. + +You will often observe that authors fall in love with the imaginary +persons they describe, and that they bestow affectionate epithets upon +them which it may happen the reader does not consider in any way called +for. This is a pleasure to which they have a right. Every author of a +story is surrounded by a little family of ideal children, as dear to him, +it may be, as are flesh-and-blood children to their parents. You may +forget all about the circle of Teacups to which I have introduced +you,--on the supposition that you have followed me with some degree of +interest; but do you suppose that Number Five does not continue as a +presence with me, and that my pretty Delilah has left me forever because +she is going to be married? + +No, my dear friend, our circle will break apart, and its different +members will soon be to you as if they had never been. But do you think +that I can forget them? Do you suppose that I shall cease to follow the +love (or the loves; which do you think is the true word, the singular or +the plural?) of Number Five and the young Tutor who is so constantly +found in her company? Do you suppose that I do not continue my relations +with the "Cracked Teacup,"--the poor old fellow with whom I have so much +in common, whose counterpart, perhaps, you may find in your own complex +personality? + +I take from the top shelf of the hospital department of my library--the +section devoted to literary cripples, imbeciles, failures, foolish +rhymesters, and silly eccentrics--one of the least conspicuous and most +hopelessly feeble of the weak-minded population of that intellectual +almshouse. I open it and look through its pages. It is a story. I have +looked into it once before,--on its first reception as a gift from the +author. I try to recall some of the names I see there: they mean nothing +to me, but I venture to say the author cherishes them all, and cries over +them as he did when he was writing their history. I put the book back +among its dusty companions, and, sitting down in my reflective +rocking-chair, think how others must forget, and how I shall remember, +the company that gathered about this table. + +Shall I ever meet any one of them again, in these pages or in any other? +Will the cracked Teacup hold together, or will he go to pieces, and find +himself in that retreat where the owner of the terrible clock which drove +him crazy is walking under the shelter of the high walls? Has the young +Doctor's crown yet received the seal which is Nature's warrant of wisdom +and proof of professional competency? And Number Five and her young +friend the Tutor,--have they kept on in their dangerous intimacy? Did +they get through the tutto tremante passage, reading from the same old +large edition of Dante which the Tutor recommended as the best, and in +reading from which their heads were necessarily brought perilously near +to each other? + +It would be very pleasant if I could, consistently with the present state +of affairs, bring these two young people together. I say two young +people, for the one who counts most years seems to me to be really the +younger of the pair. That Number Five foresaw from the first that any +tenderer feeling than that of friendship would intrude itself between +them I do not believe. As for the Tutor, he soon found where he was +drifting. It was his first experience in matters concerning the heart, +and absorbed his whole nature as a thing of course. Did he tell her he +loved her? Perhaps he did, fifty times; perhaps he never had the courage +to say so outright. But sometimes they looked each other straight in the +eyes, and strange messages seemed to pass from one consciousness to the +other. Will the Tutor ask Number Five to be his wife; and if he does, +will she yield to the dictates of nature, and lower the flag of that +fortress so long thought impregnable? Will he go on writing such poems +to her as "The Rose and the Fern" or "I Like You and I Love You," and be +content with the pursuit of that which he never can attain? That is all +very well, on the "Grecian Urn" of Keats,--beautiful, but not love such +as mortals demand. Still, that may be all, for aught that we have yet +seen. + + "Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave + Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; + Bold lover, never, never, canst thou kiss, + Though winning near the goal,--yet do not grieve; + She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, + Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair! + + ......................... + + "More happy love! more happy, happy love! + Forever warm, and still to be enjoyed, + Forever panting and forever young!" + +And so, good-bye, young people, whom we part with here. Shadows you have +been and are to my readers; very real you have been and are to me,--as +real as the memories of many friends whom I shall see no more. + +As I am not in the habit of indulging in late suppers, the reader need +not think that I shall spread another board and invite him to listen to +the conversations which take place around it. If, from time to time, he +finds a slight refection awaiting him on the sideboard, I hope he may +welcome it as pleasantly as he has accepted what I have offered him from +the board now just being cleared. + + .......................... + +It is a good rule for the actor who manages the popular street drama of +Punch not to let the audience or spectators see his legs. It is very +hard for the writer of papers like these, which are now coming to their +conclusion, to keep his personality from showing itself too conspicuously +through the thin disguises of his various characters. As the show is now +over, as the curtain has fallen, I appear before it in my proper person, +to address a few words to the friends who have assisted, as the French +say, by their presence, and as we use the word, by the kind way in which +they have received my attempts at their entertainment. + +This series of papers is the fourth of its kind which I have offered to +my readers. I may be allowed to look back upon the succession of serial +articles which was commenced more than thirty years ago, in 1857. "The +Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table" was the first of the series. It was +begun without the least idea what was to be its course and its outcome. +Its characters shaped themselves gradually as the manuscript grew under +my hand. I jotted down on the sheet of blotting paper before me the +thoughts and fancies which came into my head. A very odd-looking object +was this page of memoranda. Many of the hints were worked up into formal +shape, many were rejected. Sometimes I recorded a story, a jest, or a pun +for consideration, and made use of it or let it alone as my second +thought decided. I remember a curious coincidence, which, if I have ever +told in print,--I am not sure whether I have or not,--I will tell over +again. I mention it, not for the pun, which I rejected as not very +edifying and perhaps not new, though I did not recollect having seen it. + +Mulier, Latin for woman; why apply that name to one of the gentle but +occasionally obstinate sex? The answer was that a woman is (sometimes) +more mulish than a mule. Please observe that I did not like the poor pun +very well, and thought it rather rude and inelegant. So I left it on the +blotter, where it was standing when one of the next numbers of "Punch" +came out and contained that very same pun, which must have been hit upon +by some English contributor at just about the same time I fell upon it on +this side of the Atlantic. This fact may be added to the chapter of +coincidences which belongs to the first number of this series of papers. + +The "Autocrat" had the attraction of novelty, which of course was wanting +in the succeeding papers of similar character. The criticisms upon the +successive numbers as they came out were various, but generally +encouraging. Some were more than encouraging; very high-colored in their +phrases of commendation. When the papers were brought together in a +volume their success was beyond my expectations. Up to the present time +the "Autocrat" has maintained its position. An immortality of a whole +generation is more than most writers are entitled to expect. I venture +to think, from the letters I receive from the children and grandchildren +of my first set of readers, that for some little time longer, at least, +it will continue to be read, and even to be a favorite with some of its +readers. Non omnis moriar is a pleasant thought to one who has loved his +poor little planet, and will, I trust, retain kindly recollections of it +through whatever wilderness of worlds he may be called to wander in his +future pilgrimages. I say "poor little planet." Ever since I had a ten +cent look at the transit of Venus, a few years ago, through the telescope +in the Mall, the earth has been wholly different to me from what it used +to be. I knew from books what a speck it is in the universe, but nothing +ever brought the fact home like the sight of the sister planet sailing +across the sun's disk, about large enough for a buckshot, not large +enough for a full-sized bullet. Yes, I love the little globule where I +have spent more than fourscore years, and I like to think that some of my +thoughts and some of my emotions may live themselves over again when I am +sleeping. I cannot thank all the kind readers of the "Autocrat" who are +constantly sending me their acknowledgments. If they see this printed +page, let them be assured that a writer is always rendered happier by +being told that he has made a fellow-being wiser or better, or even +contributed to his harmless entertainment. This a correspondent may take +for granted, even if his letter of grateful recognition receives no +reply. It becomes more and more difficult for me to keep up with my +correspondents, and I must soon give it up as impossible. + +"The Professor at the Breakfast Table" followed immediately on the heels +of the "Autocrat." The Professor was the alter ego of the first +personage. In the earlier series he had played a secondary part, and in +this second series no great effort was made to create a character wholly +unlike the first. The Professor was more outspoken, however, on +religious subjects, and brought down a good deal of hard language on +himself and the author to whom he owed his existence. I suppose he may +have used some irritating expressions, unconsciously, but not +unconscientiously, I am sure. There is nothing harder to forgive than +the sting of an epigram. Some of the old doctors, I fear, never pardoned +me for saying that if a ship, loaded with an assorted cargo of the drugs +which used to be considered the natural food of sick people, went to the +bottom of the sea, it would be "all the better for mankind and all the +worse for the fishes." If I had not put that snapper on the end of my +whip-lash, I might have got off without the ill temper which my +antithesis provoked. Thirty years set that all right, and the same +thirty years have so changed the theological atmosphere that such abusive +words as "heretic" and "infidel," applied to persons who differ from the +old standards of faith, are chiefly interesting as a test of breeding, +being seldom used by any people above the social half-caste line. I am +speaking of Protestants; how it may be among Roman Catholics I do not +know, but I suspect that with them also it is a good deal a matter of +breeding. There were not wanting some who liked the Professor better +than the Autocrat. I confess that I prefer my champagne in its first +burst of gaseous enthusiasm; but if my guest likes it better after it has +stood awhile, I am pleased to accommodate him. The first of my series +came from my mind almost with an explosion, like the champagne cork; it +startled me a little to see what I had written, and to hear what people +said about it. After that first explosion the flow was more sober, and I +looked upon the product of my wine-press more coolly. Continuations +almost always sag a little. I will not say that of my own second effort, +but if others said it, I should not be disposed to wonder at or to +dispute them. + +"The Poet at the Breakfast Table" came some years later. This series of +papers was not so much a continuation as a resurrection. It was a doubly +hazardous attempt, made without any extravagant expectations, and was +received as well as I had any right to anticipate. It differed from the +other two series in containing a poem of considerable length, published +in successive portions. This poem holds a good deal of self-communing, +and gave me the opportunity of expressing some thoughts and feelings not +to be found elsewhere in my writings. I had occasion to read the whole +volume, not long since, in preparation for a new edition, and was rather +more pleased with it than I had expected to be. An old author is +constantly rediscovering himself in the more or less fossilized productions +of his earlier years. It is a long time since I have read the +"Autocrat," but I take it up now and then and read in it for a few +minutes, not always without some degree of edification. + +These three series of papers, "Autocrat," "Professor," "Poet," are all +studies of life from somewhat different points of view. They are largely +made up of sober reflections, and appeared to me to require some lively +human interest to save them from wearisome didactic dulness. What could +be more natural than that love should find its way among the young people +who helped to make up the circle gathered around the table? Nothing is +older than the story of young love. Nothing is newer than that same old +story. A bit of gilding here and there has a wonderful effect in +enlivening a landscape or an apartment. Napoleon consoled the Parisians +in their year of defeat by gilding the dome of the Invalides. Boston has +glorified her State House and herself at the expense of a few sheets of +gold leaf laid on the dome, which shines like a sun in the eyes of her +citizens, and like a star in those of the approaching traveller. I think +the gilding of a love-story helped all three of these earlier papers. The +same need I felt in the series of papers just closed. The slight +incident of Delilah's appearance and disappearance served my purpose to +some extent. But what should I do with Number Five? The reader must +follow out her career for himself. For myself, I think that she and the +Tutor have both utterly forgotten the difference of their years in the +fascination of intimate intercourse. I do not believe that a nature so +large, so rich in affection, as Number Five's is going to fall defeated +of its best inheritance of life, like a vine which finds no support for +its tendrils to twine around, and so creeps along the ground from which +nature meant that love should lift it. I feel as if I ought to follow +these two personages of my sermonizing story until they come together or +separate, to fade, to wither,--perhaps to die, at last, of something like +what the doctors call heart-failure, but which might more truly be called +heart-starvation. When I say die, I do not mean necessarily the death +that goes into the obituary column. It may come to that, in one or both; +but I think that, if they are never united, Number Five will outlive the +Tutor, who will fall into melancholy ways, and pine and waste, while she +lives along, feeling all the time that she has cheated herself of +happiness. I hope that is not going to be their fortune, or misfortune. +Vieille fille fait jeune mariee. What a youthful bride Number Five would +be, if she could only make up her mind to matrimony! In the mean time +she must be left with her lambs all around her. May heaven temper the +winds to them, for they have been shorn very close, every one of them, of +their golden fleece of aspirations and anticipations. + +I must avail myself of this opportunity to say a few words to my distant +friends who take interest enough in my writings, early or recent, to wish +to enter into communication with me by letter, or to keep up a +communication already begun. I have given notice in print that the +letters, books, and manuscripts which I receive by mail are so numerous +that if I undertook to read and answer them all I should have little time +for anything else. I have for some years depended on the assistance of a +secretary, but our joint efforts have proved unable, of late, to keep +down the accumulations which come in with every mail. So many of the +letters I receive are of a pleasant character that it is hard to let them +go unacknowledged. The extreme friendliness which pervades many of them +gives them a value which I rate very highly. When large numbers of +strangers insist on claiming one as a friend, on the strength of what he +has written, it tends to make him think of himself somewhat indulgently. +It is the most natural thing in the world to want to give expression to +the feeling the loving messages from far-off unknown friends must excite. +Many a day has had its best working hours broken into, spoiled for all +literary work, by the labor of answering correspondents whose good +opinion it is gratifying to have called forth, but who were unconsciously +laying a new burden on shoulders already aching. I know too well that +what I say will not reach the eyes of many who might possibly take a hint +from it. Still I must keep repeating it before breaking off suddenly and +leaving whole piles of letters unanswered. I have been very heavily +handicapped for many years. It is partly my own fault. From what my +correspondents tell me, I must infer that I have established a dangerous +reputation for willingness to answer all sorts of letters. They come +with such insinuating humility,--they cannot bear to intrude upon my +time, they know that I have a great many calls upon it,--and +incontinently proceed to lay their additional weight on the load which is +breaking my back. + +The hypocrisy of kind-hearted people is one of the most painful +exhibitions of human weakness. It has occurred to me that it might be +profitable to reproduce some of my unwritten answers to correspondents. +If those which were actually written and sent were to be printed in +parallel columns with those mentally formed but not written out responses +and comments, the reader would get some idea of the internal conflicts an +honest and not unamiable person has to go through, when he finds himself +driven to the wall by a correspondence which is draining his vocabulary +to find expressions that sound as agreeably, and signify as little, as +the phrases used by a diplomatist in closing an official communication. + +No. 1. Want my autograph, do you? And don't know how to spell my name. +An a for an e in my middle name. Leave out the l in my last name. Do +you know how people hate to have their names misspelled? What do you +suppose are the sentiments entertained by the Thompsons with a p towards +those who address them in writing as Thomson? + +No. 2. Think the lines you mention are by far the best I ever wrote, +hey? Well, I didn't write those lines. What is more, I think they are +as detestable a string of rhymes as I could wish my worst enemy had +written. A very pleasant frame of mind I am in for writing a letter, +after reading yours! + +No. 3. I am glad to hear that my namesake, whom I never saw and never +expect to see, has cut another tooth; but why write four pages on the +strength of that domestic occurrence? + +No. 4. You wish to correct an error in my Broomstick poem, do you? You +give me to understand that Wilmington is not in Essex County, but in +Middlesex. Very well; but are they separated by running water? Because +if they are not, what could hinder a witch from crossing the line that +separates Wilmington from Andover, I should like to know? I never meant +to imply that the witches made no excursions beyond the district which +was more especially their seat of operations. + +As I come towards the end of this task which I had set myself, I wish, of +course, that I could have performed it more to my own satisfaction and +that of my readers. This is a feeling which almost every one must have +at the conclusion of any work he has undertaken. A common and very simple +reason for this disappointment is that most of us overrate our capacity. +We expect more of ourselves than we have any right to, in virtue of our +endowments. The figurative descriptions of the last Grand Assize must no +more be taken literally than the golden crowns, which we do not expect or +want to wear on our heads, or the golden harps, which we do not want or +expect to hold in our hands. Is it not too true that many religious +sectaries think of the last tribunal complacently, as the scene in which +they are to have the satisfaction of saying to the believers of a creed +different from their own, "I told you so"? Are not others oppressed with +the thought of the great returns which will be expected of them as the +product of their great gifts, the very limited amount of which they do +not suspect, and will be very glad to learn, even at the expense of their +self-love, when they are called to their account? If the ways of the +Supreme Being are ever really to be "justified to men," to use Milton's +expression, every human being may expect an exhaustive explanation of +himself. No man is capable of being his own counsel, and I cannot help +hoping that the ablest of the, archangels will be retained for the +defence of the worst of sinners. He himself is unconscious of the +agencies which made him what he is. Self-determining he may be, if you +will, but who determines the self which is the proximate source of the +determination? Why was the A self like his good uncle in bodily aspect +and mental and moral qualities, and the B self like the bad uncle in look +and character? Has not a man a right to ask this question in the here or +in the hereafter,--in this world or in any world in which he may find +himself? If the All-wise wishes to satisfy his reasonable and reasoning +creatures, it will not be by a display of elemental convulsions, but by +the still small voice, which treats with him as a dependent entitled to +know the meaning of his existence, and if there was anything wrong in his +adjustment to the moral and spiritual conditions of the world around him +to have full allowance made for it. No melodramatic display of warring +elements, such as the white-robed Second Adventist imagines, can meet the +need of the human heart. The thunders and lightnings of Sinai terrified +and impressed the more timid souls of the idolatrous and rebellious +caravan which the great leader was conducting, but a far nobler +manifestation of divinity was that when "the Lord spake unto Moses face +to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend." + +I find the burden and restrictions of rhyme more and more troublesome as +I grow older. There are times when it seems natural enough to employ +that form of expression, but it is only occasionally; and the use of it +as the vehicle of the commonplace is so prevalent that one is not much +tempted to select it as the medium for his thoughts and emotions. The +art of rhyming has almost become a part of a high-school education, and +its practice is far from being an evidence of intellectual distinction. +Mediocrity is as much forbidden to the poet in our days as it was in +those of Horace, and the immense majority of the verses written are +stamped with hopeless mediocrity. + +When one of the ancient poets found he was trying to grind out verses +which came unwillingly, he said he was writing-- + + INVITA MINERVA. + + Vex not the Muse with idle prayers, + --She will not hear thy call; + She steals upon thee unawares, + Or seeks thee not at all. + + Soft as the moonbeams when they sought + Endymion's fragrant bower, + She parts the whispering leaves of thought + To show her full-blown flower. + + For thee her wooing hour has passed, + The singing birds have flown, + And winter comes with icy blast + To chill thy buds unblown. + + Yet, though the woods no longer thrill + As once their arches rung, + Sweet echoes hover round thee still + Of songs thy summer sung. + + Live in thy past; await no more + The rush of heaven-sent wings; + Earth still has music left in store + While Memory sighs and sings. + +I hope my special Minerva may not always be unwilling, but she must not +be called upon as she has been in times past. Now that the teacups have +left the table, an occasional evening call is all that my readers must +look for. Thanking them for their kind companionship, and hoping that I +may yet meet them in the now and then in the future, I bid them goodbye +for the immediate present, then in the future, I bid them goodbye for the +immediate present. + + + + + + +ELSIE VENNER + +By Oliver Wendell Holmes + + + +PREFACE. + +This tale was published in successive parts in the "Atlantic Monthly," +under the name of "The Professor's Story," the first number having +appeared in the third week of December, 1859. The critic who is curious +in coincidences must refer to the Magazine for the date of publication of +the chapter he is examining. + +In calling this narrative a "romance," the Author wishes to make sure of +being indulged in the common privileges of the poetic license. Through +all the disguise of fiction a grave scientific doctrine may be detected +lying beneath some of the delineations of character. He has used this +doctrine as a part of the machinery of his story without pledging his +absolute belief in it to the extent to which it is asserted or implied. +It was adopted as a convenient medium of truth rather than as an accepted +scientific conclusion. The reader must judge for himself what is the +value of various stories cited from old authors. He must decide how much +of what has been told he can accept either as having actually happened, +or as possible and more or less probable. The Author must be permitted, +however, to say here, in his personal character, and as responsible to +the students of the human mind and body, that since this story has been +in progress he has received the most startling confirmation of the +possibility of the existence of a character like that which he had drawn +as a purely imaginary conception in Elsie Venner. + +BOSTON, January, 1861. + + + + +A SECOND PREFACE. + +This is the story which a dear old lady, my very good friend, spoke of as +"a medicated novel," and quite properly refused to read. I was always +pleased with her discriminating criticism. It is a medicated novel, and +if she wished to read for mere amusement and helpful recreation there was +no need of troubling herself with a story written with a different end in +view. + +This story has called forth so many curious inquiries that it seems worth +while to answer the more important questions which have occurred to its +readers. + +In the first place, it is not based on any well-ascertained physiological +fact. There are old fables about patients who have barked like dogs or +crowed like cocks, after being bitten or wounded by those animals. There +is nothing impossible in the idea that Romulus and Remus may have imbibed +wolfish traits of character from the wet nurse the legend assigned them, +but the legend is not sound history, and the supposition is nothing more +than a speculative fancy. Still, there is a limbo of curious evidence +bearing on the subject of pre-natal influences sufficient to form the +starting-point of an imaginative composition. + +The real aim, of the story was to test the doctrine of "original sin" and +human responsibility for the disordered volition coming under that +technical denomination. Was Elsie Venner, poisoned by the venom of a +crotalus before she was born, morally responsible for the "volitional" +aberrations, which translated into acts become what is known as sin, and, +it may be, what is punished as crime? If, on presentation of the +evidence, she becomes by the verdict of the human conscience a proper +object of divine pity and not of divine wrath, as a subject of moral +poisoning, wherein lies the difference between her position at the bar of +judgment, human or divine, and that of the unfortunate victim who +received a moral poison from a remote ancestor before he drew his first +breath? + +It might be supposed that the character of Elsie Veneer was suggested by +some of the fabulous personages of classical or mediaeval story. I +remember that a French critic spoke of her as cette pauvre Melusine. I +ought to have been ashamed, perhaps, but I had, not the slightest idea +who Melusina was until I hunted up the story, and found that she was a +fairy, who for some offence was changed every Saturday to a serpent from +her waist downward. I was of course familiar with Keats's Lamia, another +imaginary being, the subject of magical transformation into a serpent. +My story was well advanced before Hawthorne's wonderful "Marble Faun," +which might be thought to have furnished me with the hint of a mixed +nature,--human, with an alien element,--was published or known to me. So +that my poor heroine found her origin, not in fable or romance, but in a +physiological conception fertilized by a theological dogma. + +I had the dissatisfaction of enjoying from a quiet corner a well-meant +effort to dramatize "Elsie Veneer." Unfortunately, a physiological +romance, as I knew beforehand, is hardly adapted for the melodramatic +efforts of stage representation. I can therefore say, with perfect +truth, that I was not disappointed. It is to the mind, and not to the +senses, that such a story must appeal, and all attempts to render the +character and events objective on the stage, or to make them real by +artistic illustrations, are almost of necessity failures. The story has +won the attention and enjoyed the favor of a limited class of readers, +and if it still continues to interest others of the same tastes and +habits of thought I can ask nothing more of it. + +January 23, 1883. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION. + +I have nothing of importance to add to the two preceding Prefaces. The +continued call for this story, which was not written for popularity, but +with a very serious purpose, has somewhat surprised and, I need not add, +gratified me. I can only restate the motive idea of the tale in a little +different language. Believing, as I do, that our prevailing theologies +are founded upon an utterly false view of the relation of man to his +Creator, I attempted to illustrate the doctrine of inherited moral +responsibility for other people's misbehavior. I tried to make out a +case for my poor Elsie, whom the most hardened theologian would find it +hard to blame for her inherited ophidian tastes and tendencies. How, +then, is he to blame mankind for inheriting "sinfulness" from their first +parents? May not the serpent have bitten Eve before the birth of Cain, +her first-born? That would have made an excuse for Cain's children, as +Elsie's ante-natal misfortune made an excuse for her. But what +difference does it make in the child's responsibility whether his +inherited tendencies come from a snake-bite or some other source which he +knew nothing about and could not have prevented from acting? All this is +plain enough, and the only use of the story is to bring the dogma of +inherited guilt and its consequences into a clearer point of view. + +But, after all, the tale must have proved readable as a story to account +for the large number of editions which it has reached. + +Some readers have been curious about the locality the writer was thought +to have in view. No particular place was intended. Some of the +characters may have been thought to have been drawn from life; but the +personages mentioned are mostly composites, like Mr. Galton's compound +photographic likenesses, and are not calculated to provoke scandal or +suits for libel. + +O. W. H. + +BEVERLY FARMS, MASS., August 3, 1891. + + + + +ELSIE VENNER. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE BRAHMIN CASTE OF NEW ENGLAND. + +There is nothing in New England corresponding at all to the feudal +aristocracies of the Old World. Whether it be owing to the stock from +which we were derived, or to the practical working of our institutions, +or to the abrogation of the technical "law of honor," which draws a sharp +line between the personally responsible class of "gentlemen" and the +unnamed multitude of those who are not expected to risk their lives for +an abstraction,--whatever be the cause, we have no such aristocracy here +as that which grew up out of the military systems of the Middle Ages. + +What we mean by "aristocracy" is merely the richer part of the community, +that live in the tallest houses, drive real carriages, (not "kerridges,") +kidglove their hands, and French-bonnet their ladies' heads, give parties +where the persons who call them by the above title are not invited, and +have a provokingly easy way of dressing, walking, talking, and nodding to +people, as if they felt entirely at home, and would not be embarrassed in +the least, if they met the Governor, or even the President of the United +States, face to face. Some of these great folks are really well-bred, +some of them are only purse-proud and assuming,--but they form a class, +and are named as above in the common speech. + +It is in the nature of large fortunes to diminish rapidly, when +subdivided and distributed. A million is the unit of wealth, now and +here in America. It splits into four handsome properties; each of these +into four good inheritances; these, again, into scanty competences for +four ancient maidens,--with whom it is best the family should die out, +unless it can begin again as its great-grandfather did. Now a million is +a kind of golden cheese, which represents in a compendious form the +summer's growth of a fat meadow of craft or commerce; and as this kind of +meadow rarely bears more than one crop, it is pretty certain that sons +and grandsons will not get another golden cheese out of it, whether they +milk the same cows or turn in new ones. In other words, the +millionocracy, considered in a large way, is not at all an affair of +persons and families, but a perpetual fact of money with a variable human +element, which a philosopher might leave out of consideration without +falling into serious error. Of course, this trivial and, fugitive fact +of personal wealth does not create a permanent class, unless some special +means are taken to arrest the process of disintegration in the third +generation. This is so rarely done, at least successfully, that one need +not live a very long life to see most of the rich families he knew in +childhood more or less reduced, and the millions shifted into the hands +of the country-boys who were sweeping stores and carrying parcels when +the now decayed gentry were driving their chariots, eating their venison +over silver chafing-dishes, drinking Madeira chilled in embossed coolers, +wearing their hair in powder, and casing their legs in long boots with +silken tassels. + +There is, however, in New England, an aristocracy, if you choose to call +it so, which has a far greater character of permanence. It has grown to +be a caste,--not in any odious sense;--but, by the repetition of the same +influences, generation after generation, it has acquired a distinct +organization and physiognomy, which not to recognize is mere stupidity, +and not to be willing to describe would show a distrust of the +good-nature and intelligence of our readers, who like to have us see all +we can and tell all we see. + +If you will look carefully at any class of students in one of our +colleges, you will have no difficulty in selecting specimens of two +different aspects of youthful manhood. Of course I shall choose extreme +cases to illustrate the contrast between them. In the first, the figure +is perhaps robust, but often otherwise,--inelegant, partly from careless +attitudes, partly from ill-dressing,--the face is uncouth in feature, or +at least common,--the mouth coarse and unformed,--the eye unsympathetic, +even if bright,--the movements of the face are clumsy, like those of the +limbs,--the voice is unmusical,--and the enunciation as if the words were +coarse castings, instead of fine carvings. The youth of the other aspect +is commonly slender, his face is smooth, and apt to be pallid,--his +features are regular and of a certain delicacy,--his eye is bright and +quick,--his lips play over the thought he utters as a pianist's fingers +dance over their music, and his whole air, though it may be timid, and +even awkward, has nothing clownish. If you are a teacher, you know what +to expect from each of these young men. With equal willingness, the +first will be slow at learning; the second will take to his books as a +pointer or a setter to his field-work. + +The first youth is the common country-boy, whose race has been bred to +bodily labor. Nature has adapted the family organization to the kind of +life it has lived. The hands and feet by constant use have got more than +their share of development,--the organs of thought and expression less +than their share. The finer instincts are latent and must be developed. +A youth of this kind is raw material in its first stage of elaboration. +You must not expect too much of any such. Many of them have force of will +and character, and become distinguished in practical life; but very few +of them ever become great scholars. A scholar is, in a large proportion +of cases, the son of scholars or scholarly persons. + +That is exactly what the other young man is. He comes of the Brahmin +caste of New England. This is the harmless, inoffensive, untitled +aristocracy referred to, and which many readers will at once acknowledge. +There are races of scholars among us, in which aptitude for learning, and +all these marks of it I have spoken of, are congenital and hereditary. +Their names are always on some college catalogue or other. They break +out every generation or two in some learned labor which calls them up +after they seem to have died out. At last some newer name takes their +place, it maybe,--but you inquire a little and you find it is the blood +of the Edwardses or the Chauncys or the Ellerys or some of the old +historic scholars, disguised under the altered name of a female +descendant. + +There probably is not an experienced instructor anywhere in our Northern +States who will not recognize at once the truth of this general +distinction. But the reader who has never been a teacher will very +probably object, that some of our most illustrious public men have come +direct from the homespun-clad class of the people,--and he may, perhaps, +even find a noted scholar or two whose parents were masters of the +English alphabet, but of no other. + +It is not fair to pit a few chosen families against the great multitude +of those who are continually working their way up into the intellectual +classes. The results which are habitually reached by hereditary training +are occasionally brought about without it. There are natural filters as +well as artificial ones; and though the great rivers are commonly more or +less turbid, if you will look long enough, you may find a spring that +sparkles as no water does which drips through your apparatus of sands and +sponges. So there are families which refine themselves into intellectual +aptitude without having had much opportunity for intellectual +acquirements. A series of felicitous crosses develops an improved strain +of blood, and reaches its maximum perfection at last in the large +uncombed youth who goes to college and startles the hereditary +class-leaders by striding past them all. That is Nature's republicanism; +thank God for it, but do not let it make you illogical. The race of the +hereditary scholar has exchanged a certain portion of its animal vigor +for its new instincts, and it is hard to lead men without a good deal of +animal vigor. The scholar who comes by Nature's special grace from an +unworn stock of broad-chested sires and deep-bosomed mothers must always +overmatch an equal intelligence with a compromised and lowered vitality. +A man's breathing and digestive apparatus (one is tempted to add +muscular) are just as important to him on the floor of the Senate as his +thinking organs. You broke down in your great speech, did you? Yes, +your grandfather had an attack of dyspepsia in '82, after working too +hard on his famous Election Sermon. All this does not touch the main +fact: our scholars come chiefly from a privileged order, just as our best +fruits come from well-known grafts, though now and then a seedling apple, +like the Northern Spy, or a seedling pear, like the Seckel, springs from +a nameless ancestry and grows to be the pride of all the gardens in the +land. + +Let me introduce you to a young man who belongs to the Brahmin caste of +New England. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE STUDENT AND HIS CERTIFICATE. + +Bernard C. Langdon, a young man attending Medical Lectures at the school +connected with one of our principal colleges, remained after the Lecture +one day and wished to speak with the Professor. He was a student of +mark,--first favorite of his year, as they say of the Derby colts. There +are in every class half a dozen bright faces to which the teacher +naturally, directs his discourse, and by the intermediation of whose +attention he seems to hold that of the mass of listeners. Among these +some one is pretty sure to take the lead, by virtue of a personal +magnetism, or some peculiarity of expression, which places the face in +quick sympathetic relations with the lecturer. This was a young man with +such a face; and I found,--for you have guessed that I was the +"Professor" above-mentioned,--that, when there was anything difficult to +be explained, or when I was bringing out some favorite illustration of a +nice point, (as, for instance; when I compared the cell-growth, by which +Nature builds up a plant or an animal, to the glassblower's similar mode +of beginning,--always with a hollow sphere, or vesicle, whatever he is +going to make,) I naturally looked in his face and gauged my success by +its expression. + +It was a handsome face,--a little too pale, perhaps, and would have borne +something more of fulness without becoming heavy. I put the organization +to which it belongs in Section B of Class 1 of my Anglo-American +Anthropology (unpublished). The jaw in this section is but slightly +narrowed,--just enough to make the width of the forehead tell more +decidedly. The moustache often grows vigorously, but the whiskers are +thin. The skin is like that of Jacob, rather than like Esau's. One +string of the animal nature has been taken away, but this gives only a +greater predominance to the intellectual chords. To see just how the +vital energy has been toned down, you must contrast one of this section +with a specimen of Section A of the same class,--say, for instance, one +of the old-fashioned, full-whiskered, red-faced, roaring, big Commodores +of the last generation, whom you remember, at least by their portraits, +in ruffled shirts, looking as hearty as butchers and as plucky as +bull-terriers, with their hair combed straight up from their foreheads, +which were not commonly very high or broad. The special form of physical +life I have been describing gives you a right to expect more delicate +perceptions and a more reflective, nature than you commonly find in +shaggy-throated men, clad in heavy suits of muscles. + +The student lingered in the lecture-room, looking all the time as if he +wanted to say something in private, and waiting for two or three others, +who were still hanging about, to be gone. + +Something is wrong!--I said to myself, when I noticed his +expression.--Well, Mr. Langdon,--I said to him, when we were alone,--can +I do anything for you to-day? + +You can, Sir,--he said.--I am going to leave the class, for the present, +and keep school. + +Why, that 's a pity, and you so near graduating! You'd better stay and +finish this course and take your degree in the spring, rather than break +up your whole plan of study. + +I can't help myself, Sir,--the young man answered.--There 's trouble at +home, and they cannot keep me here as they have done. So I must look out +for myself for a while. It's what I've done before, and am ready to do +again. I came to ask you for a certificate of my fitness to teach a +common school, or a high school, if you think I am up to that. Are you +willing to give it to me? + +Willing? Yes, to be sure,--but I don't want you to go. Stay; we'll make +it easy for you. There's a fund will do something for you, perhaps. +Then you can take both the annual prizes, if you like,--and claim them in +money, if you want that more than medals. + +I have thought it all over,--he answered,--and have pretty much made up +my mind to go. + +A perfectly gentlemanly young man, of courteous address and mild +utterance, but means at least as much as he says. There are some people +whose rhetoric consists of a slight habitual under-statement. I often +tell Mrs. Professor that one of her "I think it's sos" is worth the +Bible-oath of all the rest of the household that they "know it's so." +When you find a person a little better than his word, a little more +liberal than his promise, a little more than borne out in his statement +by his facts, a little larger in deed than in speech, you recognize a +kind of eloquence in that person's utterance not laid down in Blair or +Campbell. + +This was a proud fellow, self-trusting, sensitive, with +family-recollections that made him unwilling to accept the kind of aid +which many students would have thankfully welcomed. I knew him too well +to urge him, after the few words which implied that he was determined to +go. Besides, I have great confidence in young men who believe in +themselves, and are accustomed to rely on their own resources from an +early period. When a resolute young fellow steps up to the great bully, +the World, and takes him boldly by the beard, he is often surprised to +find it come off in his hand, and that it was only tied on to scare away +timid adventurers. I have seen young men more than once, who came to a +great city without a single friend, support themselves and pay for their +education, lay up money in a few years, grow rich enough to travel, and +establish themselves in life, without ever asking a dollar of any person +which they had not earned. But these are exceptional cases. There are +horse-tamers, born so,--as we all know; there are woman-tamers, who +bewitch the sex as the pied piper bedeviled the children of Hamelin; and +there are world-tamers, who can make any community, even a Yankee one, +get down and let them jump on its back as easily as Mr. Rarey saddled +Cruiser. + +Whether Langdon was of this sort or not I could not say positively; but +he had spirit, and, as I have said, a family-pride which would not let +him be dependent. The New England Brahmin caste often gets blended with +connections of political influence or commercial distinction. It is a +charming thing for the scholar, when his fortune carries him in this way +into some of the "old families" who have fine old houses, and city-lots +that have risen in the market, and names written in all the stock-books +of all the dividend-paying companies. His narrow study expands into a +stately library, his books are counted by thousands instead of hundreds, +and his favorites are dressed in gilded calf in place of plebeian +sheepskin or its pauper substitutes of cloth and paper. + +The Reverend Jedediah Langdon, grandfather of our young gentleman, had +made an advantageous alliance of this kind. Miss Dorothea Wentworth had +read one of his sermons which had been printed "by request," and became +deeply interested in the young author, whom she had never seen. Out of +this circumstance grew a correspondence, an interview, a declaration, a +matrimonial alliance, and a family of half a dozen children. Wentworth +Langdon, Esquire, was the oldest of these, and lived in the old +family-mansion. Unfortunately, that principle of the diminution of +estates by division, to which I have referred, rendered it somewhat +difficult to maintain the establishment upon the fractional income which +the proprietor received from his share of the property. Wentworth +Langdon, Esq., represented a certain intermediate condition of life not +at all infrequent in our old families. He was the connecting link +between the generation which lived in ease, and even a kind of state, +upon its own resources, and the new brood, which must live mainly by its +wits or industry, and make itself rich, or shabbily subside into that +lower stratum known to social geologists by a deposit of Kidderminster +carpets and the peculiar aspect of the fossils constituting the family +furniture and wardrobe. This slack-water period of a race, which comes +before the rapid ebb of its prosperity, is familiar to all who live in +cities. There are no more quiet, inoffensive people than these children +of rich families, just above the necessity of active employment, yet not +in a condition to place their own children advantageously, if they happen +to have families. Many of them are content to live unmarried. Some mend +their broken fortunes by prudent alliances, and some leave a numerous +progeny to pass into the obscurity from which their ancestors emerged; so +that you may see on handcarts and cobblers' stalls names which, a few +generations back, were upon parchments with broad seals, and tombstones +with armorial bearings. + +In a large city, this class of citizens is familiar to us in the streets. +They are very courteous in their salutations; they have time enough to +bow and take their hats off,--which, of course, no businessman can afford +to do. Their beavers are smoothly brushed, and their boots well +polished; all their appointments are tidy; they look the respectable +walking gentleman to perfection. They are prone to habits,--they +frequent reading-rooms,--insurance-offices,--they walk the same streets +at the same hours,--so that one becomes familiar with their faces and +persons, as a part of the street-furniture. + +There is one curious circumstance, that all city-people must have +noticed, which is often illustrated in our experience of the slack-water +gentry. We shall know a certain person by his looks, familiarly, for +years, but never have learned his name. About this person we shall have +accumulated no little circumstantial knowledge;--thus, his face, figure, +gait, his mode of dressing, of saluting, perhaps even of speaking, may be +familiar to us; yet who he is we know not. In another department of our +consciousness, there is a very familiar name, which we have never found +the person to match. We have heard it so often, that it has idealized +itself, and become one of that multitude of permanent shapes which walk +the chambers of the brain in velvet slippers in the company of Falstaff +and Hamlet and General Washington and Mr. Pickwick. Sometimes the person +dies, but the name lives on indefinitely. But now and then it happens, +perhaps after years of this independent existence of the name and its +shadowy image in the brain, on the one part, and the person and all its +real attributes, as we see them daily, on the other, that some accident +reveals their relation, and we find the name we have carried so long in +our memory belongs to the person we have known so long as a +fellow-citizen. Now the slack--water gentry are among the persons most +likely to be the subjects of this curious divorce of title and +reality,--for the reason, that, playing no important part in the +community, there is nothing to tie the floating name to the actual +individual, as is the case with the men who belong in any way to the +public, while yet their names have a certain historical currency, and we +cannot help meeting them, either in their haunts, or going to and from +them. + +To this class belonged Wentworth Langdon, Esq. He had been "dead-headed" +into the world some fifty years ago, and had sat with his hands in his +pockets staring at the show ever since. I shall not tell you, for +reasons before hinted, the whole name of the place in which he lived. I +will only point you in the right direction, by saying that there are +three towns lying in a line with each other, as you go "down East," each +of them with a Port in its name, and each of them having a peculiar +interest which gives it individuality, in addition to the Oriental +character they have in common. I need not tell you that these towns are +Newburyport, Portsmouth, and Portland. The Oriental character they have +in common consists in their large, square, palatial mansions, with sunny +gardens round them. The two first have seen better days. They are in +perfect harmony with the condition of weakened, but not impoverished, +gentility. Each of them is a "paradise of demi-fortunes." Each of them +is of that intermediate size between a village and a city which any place +has outgrown when the presence of a well-dressed stranger walking up and +down the main street ceases to be a matter of public curiosity and +private speculation, as frequently happens, during the busier months of +the year, in considerable commercial centres like Salem. They both have +grand old recollections to fall back upon,--times when they looked +forward to commercial greatness, and when the portly gentlemen in cocked +hats, who built their now decaying wharves and sent out their ships all +over the world, dreamed that their fast-growing port was to be the Tyre +or the Carthage of the rich British Colony. Great houses, like that once +lived in by Lord Timothy Dexter, in Newburyport, remain as evidence of +the fortunes amassed in these places of old. Other mansions--like the +Rockingham House in Portsmouth (look at the white horse's tail before you +mount the broad staircase)--show that there was not only wealth, but +style and state, in these quiet old towns during the last century. It is +not with any thought of pity or depreciation that we speak of them as in +a certain sense decayed towns; they did not fulfil their early promise of +expansion, but they remain incomparably the most interesting places of +their size in any of the three northernmost New England States. They have +even now prosperity enough to keep them in good condition, and offer the +most attractive residences for quiet families, which, if they had been +English, would have lived in a palazzo at Genoa or Pisa, or some other +Continental Newburyport or Portsmouth. + +As for the last of the three Ports, or Portland, it is getting too +prosperous to be as attractive as its less northerly neighbors. Meant for +a fine old town, to ripen like a Cheshire cheese within its walls of +ancient rind, burrowed by crooked alleys and mottled with venerable +mould, it seems likely to sacrifice its mellow future to a vulgar +material prosperity. Still it remains invested with many of its old +charms, as yet, and will forfeit its place among this admirable trio only +when it gets a hotel with unequivocal marks of having been built and +organized in the present century. + +--It was one of the old square palaces of the North, in which Bernard +Langdon, the son of Wentworth, was born. If he had had the luck to be an +only child, he might have lived as his father had done, letting his +meagre competence smoulder on almost without consuming, like the fuel in +an air-tight stove. But after Master Bernard came Miss Dorothea +Elizabeth Wentworth Langdon, and then Master William Pepperell Langdon, +and others, equally well named,--a string of them, looking, when they +stood in a row in prayer-time, as if they would fit a set of Pandean +pipes, of from three feet upward in dimensions. The door of the air-tight +stove has to be opened, under such circumstances, you may well suppose! +So it happened that our young man had been obliged, from an early period, +to do something to support himself, and found himself stopped short in +his studies by the inability of the good people at home to furnish him +the present means of support as a student. + +You will understand now why the young man wanted me to give him a +certificate of his fitness to teach, and why I did not choose to urge him +to accept the aid which a meek country-boy from a family without +ante-Revolutionary recollections would have thankfully received. Go he +must,--that was plain enough. He would not be content otherwise. He was +not, however, to give up his studies; and as it is customary to allow +half-time to students engaged in school-keeping,--that is, to count a +year, so employed, if the student also keep on with his professional +studies, as equal to six months of the three years he is expected to be +under an instructor before applying for his degree,--he would not +necessarily lose more than a few months of time. He had a small library +of professional books, which he could take with him. + +So he left my teaching and that of my estimable colleagues, carrying with +him my certificate, that Mr. Bernard C. Langdon was a young gentleman of +excellent moral character, of high intelligence and good education, and +that his services would be of great value in any school, academy, or +other institution, where young persons of-either sex were to be +instructed. + +I confess, that expression, "either sex," ran a little thick, as I may +say, from my pen. For, although the young man bore a very fair +character, and there was no special cause for doubting his discretion, I +considered him altogether too good-looking, in the first place, to be let +loose in a roomful of young girls. I didn't want him to fall in love +just then--and if half a dozen girls fell in love with him, as they most +assuredly would, if brought into too near relations with him, why, there +was no telling what gratitude and natural sensibility might bring about. + +Certificates are, for the most part, like ostrich-eggs; the giver never +knows what is hatched out of them. But once in a thousand times they act +as curses are said to,--come home to roost. Give them often enough, +until it gets to be a mechanical business, and, some day or other, you +will get caught warranting somebody's ice not to melt in any climate, or +somebody's razors to be safe in the hands of the youngest children. + +I had an uneasy feeling, after giving this certificate. It might be all +right enough; but if it happened to end badly, I should always reproach +myself. There was a chance, certainly, that it would lead him or others +into danger or wretchedness. Any one who looked at this young man could +not fail to see that he was capable of fascinating and being fascinated. +Those large, dark eyes of his would sink into the white soul of a young +girl as the black cloth sunk into the snow in Franklin's famous +experiment. Or, on the other hand, if the rays of a passionate nature +should ever be concentrated on them, they would be absorbed into the very +depths of his nature, and then his blood would turn to flame and burn his +life out of him, until his cheeks grew as white as the ashes that cover a +burning coal. + +I wish I had not said either sex in my certificate. An academy for young +gentlemen, now; that sounds cool and unimaginative. A boys' school, that +would be a very good place for him;--some of them are pretty rough, but +there is nerve enough in that old Wentworth strain of blood; he can give +any country fellow, of the common stock, twenty pounds, and hit him out +of time in ten minutes. But to send such a young fellow as that out a +girl's-nesting! to give this falcon a free pass into all the dove-cotes! +I was a fool,--that's all. + +I brooded over the mischief which might come out of these two words until +it seemed to me that they were charged with destiny. I could hardly +sleep for thinking what a train I might have been laying, which might +take a spark any day, and blow up nobody knows whose peace or prospects. +What I dreaded most was one of those miserable matrimonial misalliances +where a young fellow who does not know himself as yet flings his +magnificent future into the checked apron-lap of some fresh-faced, +half-bred country-girl, no more fit to be mated with him than her +father's horse to go in double harness with Flora Temple. To think of +the eagle's wings, being clipped so that he shall never lift himself over +the farm-yard fence! Such things happen, and always must,--because, as +one of us said awhile ago, a man always loves, a woman, and a woman a +man, unless some good reason exists to the contrary. You think yourself +a very fastidious young man, my friend; but there are probably at least +five-thousand young women in these United States, any one of whom you +would certainly marry, if you were thrown much into her company, and +nobody more attractive were near, and she had no objection. And you, my +dear young lady, justly pride yourself on your discerning delicacy; but +if I should say that there are twenty thousand young men, any one of +whom, if he offered his hand and heart under favorable circumstances, you +would + + "First endure, then pity, then embrace," + +I should be much more imprudent than I mean to be, and you would, no +doubt, throw down a story in which I hope to interest you. + +I had settled it in my mind that this young fellow had a career marked +out for him. He should begin in the natural way, by taking care of poor +patients in one of the public charities, and work his way up to a better +kind of practice,--better, that is, in the vulgar, worldly sense. The +great and good Boerhaave used to say, as I remember very well, that the +poor were his best patients; for God was their paymaster. But everybody +is not as patient as Boerhaave, nor as deserving; so that the rich, +though not, perhaps, the best patients, are good enough for common +practitioners. I suppose Boerhaave put up with them when he could not +get poor ones, as he left his daughter two millions of florins when he +died. + +Now if this young man once got into the wide streets, he would sweep them +clear of his rivals of the same standing; and as I was getting +indifferent to business, and old Dr. Kilham was growing careless, and had +once or twice prescribed morphine when he meant quinine, there would soon +be an opening into the Doctor's Paradise,--the streets with only one side +to them. Then I would have him strike a bold stroke,--set up a nice +little coach, and be driven round like a first-class London doctor, +instead of coasting about in a shabby one-horse concern and casting +anchor opposite his patients' doors like a Cape Ann fishing-smack. By +the time he was thirty, he would have knocked the social pawns out of his +way, and be ready to challenge a wife from the row of great pieces in the +background. I would not have a man marry above his level, so as to +become the appendage of a powerful family-connection; but I would not +have him marry until he knew his level,--that is, again, looking at the +matter in a purely worldly point of view, and not taking the sentiments +at all into consideration. But remember, that a young man, using large +endowments wisely and fortunately, may put himself on a level with the +highest in the land in ten brilliant years of spirited, unflagging labor. +And to stand at the very top of your calling in a great city is something +in itself,--that is, if you like money, and influence, and a seat on the +platform at public lectures, and gratuitous tickets to all sorts of +places where you don't want to go, and, what is a good deal better than +any of these things, a sense of power, limited, it may be, but absolute +in its range, so that all the Caesars and Napoleons would have to stand +aside, if they came between you and the exercise of your special +vocation. + +That is what I thought this young fellow might have come to; and now I +have let him go off into the country with my certificate, that he is fit +to teach in a school for either sex! Ten to one he will run like a moth +into a candle, right into one of those girls'-nests, and get tangled up +in some sentimental folly or other, and there will be the end of him. +Oh, yes! country doctor,--half a dollar a visit,--drive, drive, drive +all day,--get up at night and harness your own horse,--drive again ten +miles in a snow-storm, shake powders out of two phials, (pulv. +glycyrrhiz., pulv. gum. acac. as partes equates,)--drive back again, +if you don't happen to get stuck in a drift, no home, no peace, no +continuous meals, no unbroken sleep, no Sunday, no holiday, no social +intercourse, but one eternal jog, jog, jog, in a sulky, until you feel +like the mummy of an Indian who had been buried in the sitting posture, +and was dug up a hundred years afterwards! Why did n't I warn him about +love and all that nonsense? Why didn't I tell him he had nothing to do +with it, yet awhile? Why did n't I hold up to him those awful examples I +could have cited, where poor young fellows who could just keep themselves +afloat have hung a matrimonial millstone round their necks, taking it for +a life-preserver? All this of two words in a certificate! + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +MR. BERNARD TRIES HIS HAND. + +Whether the Student advertised for a school, or whether he fell in with +the advertisement of a school-committee, is not certain. At any rate, it +was not long before he found himself the head of a large district, or, as +it was called by the inhabitants, "deestric" school, in the flourishing +inland village of Pequawkett, or, as it is commonly spelt, Pigwacket +Centre. The natives of this place would be surprised, if they should +hear that any of the readers of a work published in Boston were +unacquainted with so remarkable a locality. As, however, some copies of +it may be read at a distance from this distinguished metropolis, it may +be well to give a few particulars respecting the place, taken from the +Universal Gazetteer. + +"PIGWACKET, sometimes spelt Pequawkett. A post-village and township in +_________ Co., State of _________,situated in a fine agricultural region, +2 thriving villages, Pigwacket Centre and Smithville, 3 churches, several +school houses, and many handsome private residences. Mink River runs +through the town, navigable for small boats after heavy rains. Muddy +Pond at N. E. section, well stocked with horn pouts, eels, and shiners. +Products, beef, pork, butter, cheese. Manufactures, shoe-pegs, +clothes-pins, and tin-ware. Pop. 1373." + +The reader may think there is nothing very remarkable implied in this +description. If, however he had read the town-history, by the Rev. Jabez +Grubb, he would have learned, that, like the celebrated Little +Pedlington, it was distinguished by many very remarkable advantages. +Thus: + +"The situation of Pigwacket is eminently beautiful, looking down the +lovely valley of Mink River, a tributary of the Musquash. The air is +salubrious, and many of the inhabitants have attained great age, several +having passed the allotted period of 'three-score years and ten' before +succumbing to any of the various 'ills that flesh is heir to.' Widow +Comfort Leevins died in 1836 AEt. LXXXVII. years. Venus, an African, +died in 1841, supposed to be C. years old. The people are distinguished +for intelligence, as has been frequently remarked by eminent +lyceum-lecturers, who have invariably spoken in the highest terms of a +Pigwacket audience. There is a public library, containing nearly a +hundred volumes, free to all subscribers. The preached word is well +attended, there is a flourishing temperance society, and the schools are +excellent. It is a residence admirably adapted to refined families who +relish the beauties of Nature and the charms of society. The Honorable +John Smith, formerly a member of the State Senate, was a native of this +town." + +That is the way they all talk. After all, it is probably pretty much +like other inland New England towns in point of "salubrity,"--that is, +gives people their choice of dysentery or fever every autumn, with a +season-ticket for consumption, good all the year round. And so of the +other pretences. "Pigwacket audience," forsooth! Was there ever an +audience anywhere, though there wasn't a pair of eyes in it brighter than +pickled oysters, that did n't think it was "distinguished for +intelligence"?--"The preached word"! That means the Rev. Jabez Grubb's +sermons. "Temperance society"! "Excellent schools"! Ah, that is just +what we were talking about. + +The truth was, that District No. 1, Pigwacket Centre, had had a good deal +of trouble of late with its schoolmasters. The committee had done their +best, but there were a number of well-grown and pretty rough young +fellows who had got the upper-hand of the masters, and meant to keep it. +Two dynasties had fallen before the uprising of this fierce democracy. +This was a thing that used to be not very uncommon; but in so +"intelligent" a community as that of Pigwacket Centre, in an era of +public libraries and lyceum-lectures, it was portentous and alarming. + +The rebellion began under the ferule of Master Weeks, a slender youth +from a country college, underfed, thin-blooded, sloping-shouldered, +knock-kneed, straight-haired, weak-bearded, pale-eyed, wide-pupilled, +half-colored; a common type enough in in-door races, not rich enough to +pick and choose in their alliances. Nature kills off a good many of this +sort in the first teething-time, a few in later childhood, a good many +again in early adolescence; but every now and then one runs the gauntlet +of her various diseases, or rather forms of one disease, and grows up, as +Master Weeks had done. + +It was a very foolish thing for him to try to inflict personal punishment +on such a lusty young fellow as Abner Briggs, Junior, one of the "hardest +customers" in the way of a rough-and-tumble fight that there were +anywhere round. No doubt he had been insolent, but it would have been +better to overlook it. It pains me to report the events which took place +when the master made his rash attempt to maintain his authority. Abner +Briggs, Junior, was a great, hulking fellow, who had been bred to +butchering, but urged by his parents to attend school, in order to learn +the elegant accomplishments of reading and writing, in which he was sadly +deficient. He was in the habit of talking and laughing pretty loud in +school-hours, of throwing wads of paper reduced to a pulp by a natural +and easy process, of occasional insolence and general negligence. One of +the soft, but unpleasant missiles just alluded to flew by the master's +head one morning, and flattened itself against the wall, where it adhered +in the form of a convex mass in alto rilievo. The master looked round +and saw the young butcher's arm in an attitude which pointed to it +unequivocally as the source from which the projectile had taken its +flight. + +Master Weeks turned pale. He must "lick" Abner Briggs, Junior, or +abdicate. So he determined to lick Abner Briggs, Junior. + +"Come here, Sir!" he said; "you have insulted me and outraged the decency +of the schoolroom often enough! Hold out your hand!" + +The young fellow grinned and held it out. The master struck at it with +his black ruler, with a will in the blow and a snapping of the eyes, as +much as to say that he meant to make him smart this time. The young +fellow pulled his hand back as the ruler came down, and the master hit +himself a vicious blow with it on the right knee. There are things no +man can stand. The master caught the refractory youth by the collar and +began shaking him, or rather shaking himself against him. + +"Le' go o' that are coat, naow," said the fellow, "or I 'll make ye! 'T +'ll take tew on yet' handle me, I tell ye, 'n' then ye caant dew +it!"--and the young pupil returned the master's attention by catching +hold of his collar. + +When it comes to that, the best man, not exactly in the moral sense, but +rather in the material, and more especially the muscular point of view, +is very apt to have the best of it, irrespectively of the merits of the +case. So it happened now. The unfortunate schoolmaster found himself +taking the measure of the sanded floor, amidst the general uproar of the +school. From that moment his ferule was broken, and the school-committee +very soon had a vacancy to fill. + +Master Pigeon, the successor of Master Weeks, was of better stature, but +loosely put together, and slender-limbed. A dreadfully nervous kind of +man he was, walked on tiptoe, started at sudden noises, was distressed +when he heard a whisper, had a quick, suspicious look, and was always +saying, "Hush?" and putting his hands to his ears. The boys were not +long in finding out this nervous weakness, of course. In less than a week +a regular system of torments was inaugurated, full of the most diabolical +malice and ingenuity. The exercises of the conspirators varied from day +to day, but consisted mainly of foot-scraping, solos on the slate-pencil, +(making it screech on the slate,) falling of heavy books, attacks of +coughing, banging of desk-lids, boot-creaking, with sounds as of drawing +a cork from time to time, followed by suppressed chuckles. + +Master Pigeon grew worse and worse under these inflictions. The rascally +boys always had an excuse for any one trick they were caught at. "Could +n' help coughin', Sir." "Slipped out o' m' han', Sir." "Did n' go to, +Sir." "Did n' dew't o' purpose, Sir." And so on,--always the best of +reasons for the most outrageous of behavior. The master weighed himself +at the grocer's on a platform balance, some ten days after he began +keeping the school. At the end of a week he weighed himself again. He +had lost two pounds. At the end of another week he had lost five. He +made a little calculation, based on these data, from which he learned +that in a certain number of months, going on at this rate, he should come +to weigh precisely nothing at all; and as this was a sum in subtraction +he did not care to work out in practice, Master Pigeon took to himself +wings and left the school-committee in possession of a letter of +resignation and a vacant place to fill once more. + +This was the school to which Mr. Bernard Langdon found himself appointed +as master. He accepted the place conditionally, with the understanding +that he should leave it at the end of a month, if he were tired of it. + +The advent of Master Langdon to Pigwacket Centre created a much more +lively sensation than had attended that of either of his predecessors. +Looks go a good way all the world over, and though there were several +good-looking people in the place, and Major Bush was what the natives of +the town called a "hahnsome mahn," that is, big, fat, and red, yet the +sight of a really elegant young fellow, with the natural air which grows +up with carefully-bred young persons, was a novelty. The Brahmin blood +which came from his grandfather as well as from his mother, a direct +descendant of the old Flynt family, well known by the famous tutor, Henry +Flynt, (see Cat. Harv. Anno 1693,) had been enlivened and enriched by +that of the Wentworths, which had had a good deal of ripe old Madeira and +other generous elements mingled with it, so that it ran to gout sometimes +in the old folks and to high spirit, warm complexion, and curly hair in +some of the younger ones. The soft curling hair Mr. Bernard had +inherited,--something, perhaps, of the high spirit; but that we shall +have a chance of finding out by and by. But the long sermons and the +frugal board of his Brahmin ancestry, with his own habits of study, had +told upon his color, which was subdued to something more of delicacy than +one would care to see in a young fellow with rough work before him. +This, however, made him look more interesting, or, as the young ladies at +Major Bush's said, "interestin'." + +When Mr. Bernard showed himself at meeting, on the first Sunday after his +arrival, it may be supposed that a good many eyes were turned upon the +young schoolmaster. There was something heroic in his coming forward so +readily to take a place which called for a strong hand, and a prompt, +steady will to guide it. In fact, his position was that of a military +chieftain on the eve of a battle. Everybody knew everything in Pigwacket +Centre; and it was an understood thing that the young rebels meant to put +down the new master, if they could. It was natural that the two +prettiest girls in the village, called in the local dialect, as nearly as +our limited alphabet will represent it, Alminy Cutterr, and Arvilly +Braowne, should feel and express an interest in the good-looking +stranger, and that, when their flattering comments were repeated in the +hearing of their indigenous admirers, among whom were some of the older +"boys" of the school, it should not add to the amiable dispositions of +the turbulent youth. + +Monday came, and the new schoolmaster was in his chair at the upper end +of the schoolhouse, on the raised platform. The rustics looked at his +handsome face, thoughtful, peaceful, pleasant, cheerful, but sharply cut +round the lips and proudly lighted about the eyes. The ringleader of the +mischief-makers, the young butcher who has before figured in this +narrative, looked at him stealthily, whenever he got a chance to study +him unobserved; for the truth was, he felt uncomfortable, whenever he +found the large, dark eyes fixed on his own little, sharp, deep-set, gray +ones. But he managed to study him pretty well,--first his face, then his +neck and shoulders, the set of his arms, the narrowing at the loins, the +make of his legs, and the way he moved. In short, he examined him as he +would have examined a steer, to see what he could do and how he would cut +up. If he could only have gone to him and felt of his muscles, he would +have been entirely satisfied. He was not a very wise youth, but he did +know well enough, that, though big arms and legs are very good things, +there is something besides size that goes to make a man; and he had heard +stories of a fighting-man, called "The Spider," from his attenuated +proportions, who was yet a terrible hitter in the ring, and had whipped +many a big-limbed fellow, in and out of the roped arena. + +Nothing could be smoother than the way in which everything went on for +the first day or two. The new master was so kind and courteous, he +seemed to take everything in such a natural, easy way, that there was no +chance to pick a quarrel with him. He in the mean time thought it best +to watch the boys and young men for a day or two with as little show of +authority as possible. It was easy enough to see that he would have +occasion for it before long. + +The schoolhouse was a grim, old, red, one-story building, perched on a +bare rock at the top of a hill,--partly because this was a conspicuous +site for the temple of learning, and partly because land is cheap where +there is no chance even for rye or buckwheat, and the very sheep find +nothing to nibble. About the little porch were carved initials and +dates, at various heights, from the stature of nine to that of eighteen. +Inside were old unpainted desks,--unpainted, but browned with the umber +of human contact,--and hacked by innumerable jack-knives. It was long +since the walls had been whitewashed, as might be conjectured by the +various traces left upon them, wherever idle hands or sleepy heads could +reach them. A curious appearance was noticeable on various higher parts +of the wall: namely, a wart-like eruption, as one would be tempted to +call it, being in reality a crop of the soft missiles before mentioned, +which, adhering in considerable numbers, and hardening after the usual +fashion of papier-mache, formed at last permanent ornaments of the +edifice. + +The young master's quick eye soon noticed that a particular part of the +wall was most favored with these ornamental appendages. Their position +pointed sufficiently clearly to the part of the room they came from. In +fact, there was a nest of young mutineers just there, which must be +broken up by a coup d'etat. This was easily effected by redistributing +the seats and arranging the scholars according to classes, so that a +mischievous fellow, charged full of the rebellious imponderable, should +find himself between two non-conductors, in the shape of small boys of +studious habits. It was managed quietly enough, in such a plausible sort +of way that its motive was not thought of. But its effects were soon +felt; and then began a system of correspondence by signs, and the +throwing of little scrawls done up in pellets, and announced by +preliminary a'h'ms! to call the attention of the distant youth addressed. +Some of these were incendiary documents, devoting the schoolmaster to the +lower divinities, as "a stuck-up dandy," as "a purse-proud aristocrat," +as "a sight too big for his, etc.," and holding him up in a variety of +equally forcible phrases to the indignation of the youthful community of +School District No. 1, Pigwacket Centre. + +Presently the draughtsman of the school set a caricature in circulation, +labelled, to prevent mistakes, with the schoolmaster's name. An immense +bell-crowned hat, and a long, pointed, swallow-tailed coat showed that +the artist had in his mind the conventional dandy, as shown in prints of +thirty or forty years ago, rather than any actual human aspect of the +time. But it was passed round among the boys and made its laugh, helping +of course to undermine the master's authority, as "Punch" or the +"Charivari" takes the dignity out of an obnoxious minister. One morning, +on going to the schoolroom, Master Langdon found an enlarged copy of this +sketch, with its label, pinned on the door. He took it down, smiled a +little, put it into his pocket, and entered the schoolroom. An insidious +silence prevailed, which looked as if some plot were brewing. The boys +were ripe for mischief, but afraid. They had really no fault to find +with the master, except that he was dressed like a gentleman, which a +certain class of fellows always consider a personal insult to themselves. +But the older ones were evidently plotting, and more than once the +warning a'h'm! was heard, and a dirty little scrap of paper rolled into a +wad shot from one seat to another. One of these happened to strike the +stove-funnel, and lodged on the master's desk. He was cool enough not to +seem to notice it. He secured it, however, and found an opportunity to +look at it, without being observed by the boys. It required no immediate +notice. + +He who should have enjoyed the privilege of looking upon Mr. Bernard +Langdon the next morning, when his toilet was about half finished, would +have had a very pleasant gratuitous exhibition. First he buckled the +strap of his trousers pretty tightly. Then he took up a pair of heavy +dumb-bells, and swung them for a few minutes; then two great "Indian +clubs," with which he enacted all sorts of impossible-looking feats. His +limbs were not very large, nor his shoulders remarkably broad; but if you +knew as much of the muscles as all persons who look at statues and +pictures with a critical eye ought to have learned,--if you knew the +trapezius, lying diamond-shaped over the back and shoulders like a monk's +cowl,--or the deltoid, which caps the shoulder like an epaulette,--or the +triceps, which furnishes the calf of the upper arm,--or the hard-knotted +biceps,--any of the great sculptural landmarks, in fact,--you would have +said there was a pretty show of them, beneath the white satiny skin of +Mr. Bernard Langdon. And if you had seen him, when he had laid down the +Indian clubs, catch hold of a leather strap that hung from the beam of +the old-fashioned ceiling,--and lift and lower himself over and over +again by his left hand alone, you might have thought it a very simple and +easy thing to do, until you tried to do it yourself. Mr. Bernard looked +at himself with the eye of an expert. "Pretty well!" he said;--"not so +much fallen off as I expected." Then he set up his bolster in a very +knowing sort of way, and delivered two or three blows straight as rulers +and swift as winks. "That will do," he said. Then, as if determined to +make a certainty of his condition, he took a dynamometer from one of the +drawers in his old veneered bureau. First he squeezed it with his two +hands. Then he placed it on the floor and lifted, steadily, strongly. +The springs creaked and cracked; the index swept with a great stride far +up into the high figures of the scale; it was a good lift. He was +satisfied. He sat down on the edge of his bed and looked at his +cleanly-shaped arms. "If I strike one of those boobies, I am afraid I +shall spoil him," he said. Yet this young man, when weighed with his +class at the college, could barely turn one hundred and forty-two pounds +in the scale,--not a heavy weight, surely; but some of the middle +weights, as the present English champion, for instance, seem to be of a +far finer quality of muscle than the bulkier fellows. + +The master took his breakfast with a good appetite that morning, but was +perhaps rather more quiet than usual. After breakfast he went up-stairs +and put, on a light loose frock, instead of that which he commonly wore, +which was a close-fitting and rather stylish one. On his way to school +he met Alminy Cutterr, who happened to be walking in the other direction. +"Good-morning, Miss Cutter," he said; for she and another young lady had +been introduced to him, on a former occasion, in the usual phrase of +polite society in presenting ladies to gentlemen,--"Mr. Langdon, let me +make y' acquainted with Miss Cutterr;--let me make y' acquainted with +Miss Braowne." So he said, "Good-morning"; to which she replied, +"Good-mornin', Mr. Langdon. Haow's your haalth?" The answer to this +question ought naturally to have been the end of the talk; but Alminy +Cutterr lingered and looked as if she had something more on her mind. + +A young fellow does not require a great experience to read a simple +country-girl's face as if it were a sign-board. Alminy was a good soul, +with red cheeks and bright eyes, kind-hearted as she could be, and it was +out of the question for her to hide her thoughts or feelings like a fine +lady. Her bright eyes were moist and her red cheeks paler than their +wont, as she said, with her lips quivering, "Oh, Mr. Langdon, them boys +'ll be the death of ye, if ye don't take caar!" + +"Why, what's the matter, my dear?" said Mr. Bernard.--Don't think there +was anything very odd in that "my dear," at the second interview with a +village belle;--some of these woman-tamers call a girl "My dear," after +five minutes' acquaintance, and it sounds all right as they say it. But +you had better not try it at a venture. + +It sounded all right to Alminy, as Mr. Bernard said it.--"I 'll tell ye +what's the mahtterr," she said, in a frightened voice. "Ahbner 's go'n' +to car' his dog, 'n' he'll set him on ye'z sure 'z y' 'r' alive. 'T's +the same cretur that haaf eat up Eben Squires's little Jo, a year come +nex' Faast day." + +Now this last statement was undoubtedly overcolored; as little Jo Squires +was running about the village,--with an ugly scar on his arm, it is true, +where the beast had caught him with his teeth, on the occasion of the +child's taking liberties with him, as he had been accustomed to do with a +good-tempered Newfoundland dog, who seemed to like being pulled and +hauled round by children. After this the creature was commonly muzzled, +and, as he was fed on raw meat chiefly, was always ready for a fight, +which he was occasionally indulged in, when anything stout enough to +match him could be found in any of the neighboring villages. + +Tiger, or, more briefly, Tige, the property of Abner Briggs, Junior, +belonged to a species not distinctly named in scientific books, but well +known to our country-folks under the name "Yallah dog." They do not use +this expression as they would say black dog or white dog, but with almost +as definite a meaning as when they speak of a terrier or a spaniel. A +"yallah dog" is a large canine brute, of a dingy old-flannel color, of no +particular breed except his own, who hangs round a tavern or a butcher's +shop, or trots alongside of a team, looking as if he were disgusted with +the world, and the world with him. Our inland population, while they +tolerate him, speak of him with contempt. Old ______, of Meredith +Bridge, used to twit the sun for not shining on cloudy days, swearing, +that, if he hung up his "yallah dog," he would make a better show of +daylight. A country fellow, abusing a horse of his neighbor's, vowed, +that, "if he had such a hoss, he'd swap him for a `yallah dog,'--and then +shoot the dog." + +Tige was an ill-conditioned brute by nature, and art had not improved him +by cropping his ears and tail and investing him with a spiked collar. He +bore on his person, also, various not ornamental scars, marks of old +battles; for Tige had fight in him, as was said before, and as might be +guessed by a certain bluntness about the muzzle, with a projection of the +lower jaw, which looked as if there might be a bull-dog stripe among the +numerous bar-sinisters of his lineage. + +It was hardly fair, however, to leave Alminy Cutterr waiting while this +piece of natural history was telling.--As she spoke of little Jo, who had +been "haaf eat up" by Tige, she could not contain her sympathies, and +began to cry. + +"Why, my dear little soul," said Mr. Bernard, "what are you worried +about? I used to play with a bear when I was a boy; and the bear used to +hug me, and I used to kiss him,--so!" + +It was too bad of Mr. Bernard, only the second time he had seen Alminy; +but her kind feelings had touched him, and that seemed the most natural +way of expressing his gratitude. Ahniny looked round to see if anybody +was near; she saw nobody, so of course it would do no good to "holler." +She saw nobody; but a stout young fellow, leading a yellow dog, muzzled, +saw her through a crack in a picket fence, not a great way off the road. +Many a year he had been "hangin' 'raoun'" Alminy, and never did he see +any encouraging look, or hear any "Behave, naow!" or "Come, naow, a'n't +ye 'shamed?" or other forbidding phrase of acquiescence, such as village +belles under stand as well as ever did the nymph who fled to the willows +in the eclogue we all remember. + +No wonder he was furious, when he saw the school master, who had never +seen the girl until within a week, touching with his lips those rosy +cheeks which he had never dared to approach. But that was all; it was a +sudden impulse; and the master turned away from the young girl, laughing, +and telling her not to fret herself about him,--he would take care of +himself. + +So Master Langdon walked on toward his school-house, not displeased, +perhaps, with his little adventure, nor immensely elated by it; for he +was one of the natural class of the sex-subduers, and had had many a +smile without asking, which had been denied to the feeble youth who try +to win favor by pleading their passion in rhyme, and even to the more +formidable approaches of young officers in volunteer companies, +considered by many to be quite irresistible to the fair who have once +beheld them from their windows in the epaulettes and plumes and sashes of +the "Pigwacket Invincibles," or the "Hackmatack Rangers." + +Master Langdon took his seat and began the exercises of his school. The +smaller boys recited their lessons well enough, but some of the larger +ones were negligent and surly. He noticed one or two of them looking +toward the door, as if expecting somebody or something in that direction. +At half past nine o'clock, Abner Briggs, Junior, who had not yet shown +himself, made his appearance. He was followed by his "yallah dog," +without his muzzle, who squatted down very grimly near the door, and gave +a wolfish look round the room, as if he were considering which was the +plumpest boy to begin with. The young butcher, meanwhile, went to his +seat, looking somewhat flushed, except round the lips, which were hardly +as red as common, and set pretty sharply. + +"Put out that dog, Abner Briggs!"--The master spoke as the captain speaks +to the helmsman, when there are rocks foaming at the lips, right under +his lee. + +Abner Briggs answered as the helmsman answers, when he knows he has a +mutinous crew round him that mean to run the ship on the reef, and is one +of the mutineers himself. "Put him aout y'rself, 'f ye a'n't afeard on +him!" + +The master stepped into the aisle: The great cur showed his teeth,--and +the devilish instincts of his old wolf-ancestry looked out of his eyes, +and flashed from his sharp tusks, and yawned in his wide mouth and deep +red gullet. + +The movements of animals are so much quicker than those of human beings +commonly are, that they avoid blows as easily as one of us steps out of +the way of an ox-cart. It must be a very stupid dog that lets himself be +run over by a fast driver in his gig; he can jump out of the wheel's way +after the tire has already touched him. So, while one is lifting a stick +to strike or drawing back his foot to kick, the beast makes his spring, +and the blow or the kick comes too late. + +It was not so this time. The master was a fencer, and something of a +boxer; he had played at singlestick, and was used to watching an +adversary's eye and coming down on him without any of those premonitory +symptoms by which unpractised persons show long beforehand what mischief +they meditate. + +"Out with you!" he said, fiercely,--and explained what he meant by a +sudden flash of his foot that clashed the yellow dog's white teeth +together like the springing of a bear-trap. The cur knew he had found +his master at the first word and glance, as low animals on four legs, or +a smaller number, always do; and the blow took him so by surprise, that +it curled him up in an instant, and he went bundling out of the open +schoolhouse-door with a most pitiable yelp, and his stump of a tail shut +down as close as his owner ever shut the short, stubbed blade of his +jack-knife. + +It was time for the other cur to find who his master. + +"Follow your dog, Abner Briggs!" said Master Langdon. + +The stout butcher-youth looked round, but the rebels were all cowed and +sat still. + +"I'll go when I'm ready," he said,--"'n' I guess I won't go afore I'm +ready." + +"You're ready now," said Master Langdon, turning up his cuffs so that the +little boys noticed the yellow gleam of a pair of gold sleeve-buttons, +once worn by Colonel Percy Wentworth, famous in the Old French War. + +Abner Briggs, Junior, did not apparently think he was ready, at any rate; +for he rose up in his place, and stood with clenched fists, defiant, as +the master strode towards him. The master knew the fellow was really +frightened, for all his looks, and that he must have no time to rally. +So he caught him suddenly by the collar, and, with one great pull, had +him out over his desk and on the open floor. He gave him a sharp fling +backwards and stood looking at him. + +The rough-and-tumble fighters all clinch, as everybody knows; and Abner +Briggs, Junior, was one of that kind. He remembered how he had floored +Master Weeks, and he had just "spunk" enough left in him to try to repeat +his former successful experiment an the new master. He sprang at him, +open-handed, to clutch him. So the master had to strike,--once, but very +hard, and just in the place to tell. No doubt, the authority that doth +hedge a schoolmaster added to the effect of the blow; but the blow was +itself a neat one, and did not require to be repeated. + +"Now go home," said the master, "and don't let me see you or your dog +here again." And he turned his cuffs down over the gold sleeve-buttons. + +This finished the great Pigwacket Centre School rebellion. What could be +done with a master who was so pleasant as long as the boys behaved +decently, and such a terrible fellow when he got "riled," as they called +it? In a week's time everything was reduced to order, and the +school-committee were delighted. The master, however, had received a +proposition so much more agreeable and advantageous, that he informed the +committee he should leave at the end of his month, having in his eye a +sensible and energetic young college-graduate who would be willing and +fully competent to take his place. + +So, at the expiration of the appointed time, Bernard Langdon, late master +of the School District No. 1, Pigwacket Centre, took his departure from +that place for another locality, whither we shall follow him, carrying +with him the regrets of the committee, of most of the scholars, and of +several young ladies; also two locks of hair, sent unbeknown to payrents, +one dark and one warmish auburn, inscribed with the respective initials +of Alminy Cutterr and Arvilly Braowne. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE MOTH FLIES INTO THE CANDLE. + +The invitation which Mr. Bernard Langdon had accepted came from the Board +of Trustees of the "Apollinean Female Institute," a school for the +education of young ladies, situated in the flourishing town of Rockland. +This was an establishment on a considerable scale, in which a hundred +scholars or thereabouts were taught the ordinary English branches, +several of the modern languages, something of Latin, if desired, with a +little natural philosophy, metaphysics, and rhetoric, to finish off with +in the last year, and music at any time when they would pay for it. At +the close of their career in the Institute, they were submitted to a +grand public examination, and received diplomas tied in blue ribbons, +which proclaimed them with a great flourish of capitals to be graduates +of the Apollinean Female Institute. + +Rockland was a town of no inconsiderable pretensions. It was ennobled by +lying at the foot of a mountain,--called by the working-folks of the +place "the Maounting,"--which sufficiently showed that it was the +principal high land of the district in which it was situated. It lay to +the south of this, and basked in the sunshine as Italy stretches herself +before the Alps. To pass from the town of Tamarack on the north of the +mountain to Rockland on the south was like crossing from Coire to +Chiavenna. + +There is nothing gives glory and grandeur and romance and mystery to a +place like the impending presence of a high mountain. Our beautiful +Northampton with its fair meadows and noble stream is lovely enough, but +owes its surpassing attraction to those twin summits which brood over it +like living presences, looking down into its streets as if they were its +tutelary divinities, dressing and undressing their green shrines, robing +themselves in jubilant sunshine or in sorrowing clouds, and doing penance +in the snowy shroud of winter, as if they had living hearts under their +rocky ribs and changed their mood like the children of the soil at their +feet, who grow up under their almost parental smiles and frowns. Happy +is the child whose first dreams of heaven are blended with the evening +glories of Mount Holyoke, when the sun is firing its treetops, and +gilding the white walls that mark its one human dwelling! If the other +and the wilder of the two summits has a scowl of terror in its +overhanging brows, yet is it a pleasing fear to look upon its savage +solitudes through the barred nursery-windows in the heart of the sweet, +companionable village.--And how the mountains love their children! The +sea is of a facile virtue, and will run to kiss the first comer in any +port he visits; but the chaste mountains sit apart, and show their faces +only in the midst of their own families. + +The Mountain which kept watch to the north of Rockland lay waste and +almost inviolate through much of its domain. The catamount still glared +from the branches of its old hemlocks on the lesser beasts that strayed +beneath him. It was not long since a wolf had wandered down, famished in +the winter's dearth, and left a few bones and some tufts of wool of what +had been a lamb in the morning. Nay, there were broad-footed tracks in +the snow only two years previously, which could not be mistaken;--the +black bear alone could have set that plantigrade seal, and little +children must come home early from school and play, for he is an +indiscriminate feeder when he is hungry, and a little child would not +come amiss when other game was wanting. + +But these occasional visitors may have been mere wanderers, which, +straying along in the woods by day, and perhaps stalking through the +streets of still villages by night, had worked their way along down from +the ragged mountain-spurs of higher latitudes. The one feature of The +Mountain that shed the brownest horror on its woods was the existence of +the terrible region known as Rattlesnake Ledge, and still tenanted by +those damnable reptiles, which distil a fiercer venom under our cold +northern sky than the cobra himself in the land of tropical spices and +poisons. + +From the earliest settlement of the place, this fact had been, next to +the Indians, the reigning nightmare of the inhabitants. It was easy +enough, after a time, to drive away the savages; for "a screeching Indian +Divell," as our fathers called him, could not crawl into the crack of a +rock to escape from his pursuers. But the venomous population of +Rattlesnake Ledge had a Gibraltar for their fortress that might have +defied the siege-train dragged to the walls of Sebastopol. In its deep +embrasures and its impregnable easemates they reared their families, they +met in love or wrath, they twined together in family knots, they hissed +defiance in hostile clans, they fed, slept, hibernated, and in due time +died in peace. Many a foray had the towns-people made, and many a +stuffed skin was shown as a trophy,--nay, there were families where the +children's first toy was made from the warning appendage that once +vibrated to the wrath of one of these "cruel serpents." Sometimes one of +them, coaxed out by a warm sun, would writhe himself down the hillside +into the roads, up the walks that led to houses,--worse than this, into +the long grass, where the barefooted mowers would soon pass with their +swinging scythes,--more rarely into houses, and on one memorable +occasion, early in the last century, into the meeting-house, where he +took a position on the pulpit-stairs,--as is narrated in the "Account of +Some Remarkable Providences," etc., where it is suggested that a strong +tendency of the Rev. Didymus Bean, the Minister at that time, towards the +Arminian Heresy may have had something to do with it, and that the +Serpent supposed to have been killed on the Pulpit-Stairs was a false +show of the Daemon's Contrivance, he having come in to listen to a +Discourse which was a sweet Savour in his Nostrils, and, of course, not +being capable of being killed Himself. Others said, however, that, +though there was good Reason to think it was a Damon, yet he did come +with Intent to bite the Heel of that faithful Servant,--etc. + +One Gilson is said to have died of the bite of a rattlesnake in this town +early in the present century. After this there was a great snake-hunt, +in which very many of these venomous beasts were killed,--one in +particular, said to have been as big round as a stout man's arm, and to +have had no less than forty joints to his rattle,--indicating, according +to some, that he had lived forty years, but, if we might put any faith in +the Indian tradition, that he had killed forty human beings,--an idle +fancy, clearly. This hunt, however, had no permanent effect in keeping +down the serpent population. Viviparous, creatures are a kind of +specie-paying lot, but oviparous ones only give their notes, as it were, +for a future brood,--an egg being, so to speak, a promise to pay a young +one by and by, if nothing happen. Now the domestic habits of the +rattlesnake are not studied very closely, for obvious reasons; but it is, +no doubt, to all intents and purposes oviparous. Consequently it has +large families, and is not easy to kill out. + +In the year 184-, a melancholy proof was afforded to the inhabitants of +Rockland, that the brood which infested The Mountain was not extirpated. +A very interesting young married woman, detained at home at the time by +the state of her health, was bitten in the entry of her own house by a +rattlesnake which had found its way down from The Mountain. Owing to the +almost instant employment of powerful remedies, the bite did not prove +immediately fatal; but she died within a few months of the time when she +was bitten. + +All this seemed to throw a lurid kind of shadow over The Mountain. Yet, +as many years passed without any accident, people grew comparatively +careless, and it might rather be said to add a fearful kind of interest +to the romantic hillside, that the banded reptiles, which had been the +terror of the red men for nobody knows how many thousand years, were +there still, with the same poison-bags and spring-teeth at the white +men's service, if they meddled with them. + +The other natural features of Rockland were such as many of our pleasant +country-towns can boast of. A brook came tumbling down the mountain-side +and skirted the most thickly settled portion of the village. In the +parts of its course where it ran through the woods, the water looked +almost as brown as coffee flowing from its urn,--to say like smoky quartz +would perhaps give a better idea,--but in the open plain it sparkled over +the pebbles white as a queen's diamonds. There were huckleberry-pastures +on the lower flanks of The Mountain, with plenty of the sweet-scented +bayberry mingled with the other bushes. In other fields grew great store +of high-bush blackberries. Along the roadside were bayberry-bushes, hung +all over with bright red coral pendants in autumn and far into the +winter. Then there were swamps set thick with dingy alders, where the +three-leaved arum and the skunk's-cabbage grew broad and succulent, +shelving down into black boggy pools here and there at the edge of which +the green frog, stupidest of his tribe, sat waiting to be victimized by +boy or snapping-turtle long after the shy and agile leopard-frog had +taken the six-foot spring that plumped him into the middle of the pool. +And on the neighboring banks the maiden-hair spread its flat disk of +embroidered fronds on the wire-like stem that glistened polished and +brown as the darkest tortoise-shell, and pale violets, cheated by the +cold skies of their hues and perfume, sunned themselves like +white-cheeked invalids. Over these rose the old forest-trees,--the +maple, scarred with the wounds which had drained away its sweet +life-blood,--the beech, its smooth gray bark mottled so as to look like +the body of one of those great snakes of old that used to frighten +armies, always the mark of lovers' knives, as in the days of Musidora and +her swain,--the yellow birch, rough as the breast of Silenus in old +marbles,--the wild cherry, its little bitter fruit lying unheeded at its +foot,--and, soaring over all, the huge, coarse-barked, splintery-limbed, +dark-mantled hemlock, in the depth of whose aerial solitudes the crow +brooded on her nest unscared, and the gray squirrel lived unharmed till +his incisors grew to look like ram's-horns. + +Rockland would have been but half a town without its pond; Guinnepeg Pond +was the name of it, but the young ladies of the Apollinean Institute were +very anxious that it should be called Crystalline Lake. It was here that +the young folks used to sail in summer and skate in winter; here, too, +those queer, old, rum-scented good-for-nothing, lazy, story-telling, +half-vagabonds, who sawed a little wood or dug a few potatoes now and +then under the pretence of working for their living, used to go and fish +through the ice for pickerel every winter. And here those three young +people were drowned, a few summers ago, by the upsetting of a sail-boat +in a sudden flaw of wind. There is not one of these smiling ponds which +has not devoured more youths and maidens than any of those monsters the +ancients used to tell such lies about. But it was a pretty pond, and +never looked more innocent--so the native "bard" of Rockland said in his +elegy--than on the morning when they found Sarah Jane and Ellen Maria +floating among the lily-pads. + +The Apollinean Institute, or Institoot, as it was more commonly called, +was, in the language of its Prospectus, a "first-class Educational +Establishment." It employed a considerable corps of instructors to rough +out and finish the hundred young lady scholars it sheltered beneath its +roof. First, Mr. and Mrs. Peckham, the Principal and the Matron of the +school. Silas Peckham was a thorough Yankee, born on a windy part of the +coast, and reared chiefly on salt-fish. Everybody knows the type of +Yankee produced by this climate and diet: thin, as if he had been split +and dried; with an ashen kind of complexion, like the tint of the food he +is made of; and about as sharp, tough, juiceless, and biting to deal with +as the other is to the taste. Silas Peckham kept a young ladies' school +exactly as he would have kept a hundred head of cattle,--for the simple, +unadorned purpose of making just as much money in just as few years as +could be safely done. Mr. Peckham gave very little personal attention to +the department of instruction, but was always busy with contracts for +flour and potatoes, beef and pork, and other nutritive staples, the +amount of which required for such an establishment was enough to frighten +a quartermaster. Mrs. Peckham was from the West, raised on Indian corn +and pork, which give a fuller outline and a more humid temperament, but +may perhaps be thought to render people a little coarse-fibred. Her +specialty was to look after the feathering, cackling, roosting, rising, +and general behavior of these hundred chicks. An honest, ignorant woman, +she could not have passed an examination in the youngest class. So this +distinguished institution was under the charge of a commissary and a +housekeeper, and its real business was making money by taking young girls +in as boarders. + +Connected with this, however, was the incidental fact, which the public +took for the principal one, namely, the business of instruction. Mr. +Peckham knew well enough that it was just as well to have good +instructors as bad ones, so far as cost was concerned, and a great deal +better for the reputation of his feeding-establishment. He tried to get +the best he could without paying too much, and, having got them, to screw +all the work out of them that could possibly be extracted. + +There was a master for the English branches, with a young lady assistant. +There was another young lady who taught French, of the ahvaung and +baundahng style, which does not exactly smack of the asphalt of the +Boulevards. There was also a German teacher of music, who sometimes +helped in French of the ahfaung and bauntaung style,--so that, between +the two, the young ladies could hardly have been mistaken for Parisians, +by a Committee of the French Academy. The German teacher also taught a +Latin class after his fashion,--benna, a ben, gahboot, ahead, and so +forth. + +The master for the English branches had lately left the school for +private reasons, which need not be here mentioned,--but he had gone, at +any rate, and it was his place which had been offered to Mr. Bernard +Langdon. The offer came just in season,--as, for various causes, he was +willing to leave the place where he had begun his new experience. + +It was on a fine morning that Mr. Bernard, ushered in by Mr. Peckham, +made his appearance in the great schoolroom of the Apollinean Institute. +A general rustle ran all round the seats when the handsome young man was +introduced. The principal carried him to the desk of the young lady +English assistant, Miss Darley by name, and introduced him to her. + +There was not a great deal of study done that day. The young lady +assistant had to point out to the new master the whole routine in which +the classes were engaged when their late teacher left, and which had gone +on as well as it could since. Then Master Langdon had a great many +questions to ask, some relating to his new duties, and some, perhaps, +implying a degree of curiosity not very unnatural under the +circumstances. The truth is, the general effect of the schoolroom, with +its scores of young girls, all their eyes naturally centring on him with +fixed or furtive glances, was enough to bewilder and confuse a young man +like Master Langdon, though he was not destitute of self-possession, as +we have already seen. + +You cannot get together a hundred girls, taking them as they come, from +the comfortable and affluent classes, probably anywhere, certainly not in +New England, without seeing a good deal of beauty. In fact, we very +commonly mean by beauty the way young girls look when there is nothing to +hinder their looking as Nature meant them to. And the great schoolroom +of the Apollinean Institute did really make so pretty a show on the +morning when Master Langdon entered it, that he might be pardoned for +asking Miss Darley more questions about his scholars than about their +lessons. + +There were girls of all ages: little creatures, some pallid and +delicate-looking, the offspring of invalid parents,--much given to books, +not much to mischief, commonly spoken of as particularly good children, +and contrasted with another sort, girls of more vigorous organization, +who were disposed to laughing and play, and required a strong hand to +manage them; then young growing misses of every shade of Saxon +complexion, and here and there one of more Southern hue: blondes, some of +them so translucent-looking that it seemed as if you could see the souls +in their bodies, like bubbles in glass, if souls were objects of sight; +brunettes, some with rose-red colors, and some with that swarthy hue +which often carries with it a heavily-shaded lip, and which, with pure +outlines and outspoken reliefs, gives us some of our handsomest +women,--the women whom ornaments of plain gold adorn more than any other +parures; and again, but only here and there, one with dark hair and gray +or blue eyes, a Celtic type, perhaps, but found in our native stock +occasionally; rarest of all, a light-haired girl with dark eyes, hazel, +brown, or of the color of that mountain-brook spoken of in this chapter, +where it ran through shadowy woodlands. With these were to be seen at +intervals some of maturer years, full-blown flowers among the opening +buds, with that conscious look upon their faces which so many women wear +during the period when they never meet a single man without having his +monosyllable ready for him,--tied as they are, poor things! on the rock +of expectation, each of them an Andromeda waiting for her Perseus. + +"Who is that girl in ringlets,--the fourth in the third row on the +right?" said Master Langdon. + +"Charlotte Ann Wood," said Miss Darley; "writes very pretty poems." + +"Oh!--And the pink one, three seats from her? Looks bright; anything in +her?" + +"Emma Dean,--day-scholar,--Squire Dean's daughter,--nice girl,--second +medal last year." + +The master asked these two questions in a careless kind of way, and did +not seem to pay any too much attention to the answers. + +"And who and what is that," he said,--"sitting a little apart +there,--that strange, wild-looking girl?" + +This time he put the real question he wanted answered;--the other two +were asked at random, as masks for the third. + +The lady-teacher's face changed;--one would have said she was frightened +or troubled. She looked at the girl doubtfully, as if she might hear the +master's question and its answer. But the girl did not look up;--she was +winding a gold chain about her wrist, and then uncoiling it, as if in a +kind of reverie. + +Miss Darley drew close to the master and placed her hand so as to hide +her lips. "Don't look at her as if we were talking about her," she +whispered softly; "that is Elsie Venner." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +AN OLD-FASHIONED DESCRIPTIVE CHAPTER. + +It was a comfort to get to a place with something like society, with +residences which had pretensions to elegance, with people of some +breeding, with a newspaper, and "stores" to advertise in it, and with two +or three churches to keep each other alive by wholesome agitation. +Rockland was such a place. + +Some of the natural features of the town have been described already. The +Mountain, of course, was what gave it its character, and redeemed it from +wearing the commonplace expression which belongs to ordinary +country-villages. Beautiful, wild, invested with the mystery which +belongs to untrodden spaces, and with enough of terror to give it +dignity, it had yet closer relations with the town over which it brooded +than the passing stranger knew of. Thus, it made a local climate by +cutting off the northern winds and holding the sun's heat like a +garden-wall. Peachtrees, which, on the northern side of the mountain, +hardly ever came to fruit, ripened abundant crops in Rockland. + +But there was still another relation between the mountain and the town at +its foot, which strangers were not likely to hear alluded to, and which +was oftener thought of than spoken of by its inhabitants. Those +high-impending forests,--"hangers," as White of Selborne would have +called them,--sloping far upward and backward into the distance, had +always an air of menace blended with their wild beauty. It seemed as if +some heaven-scaling Titan had thrown his shaggy robe over the bare, +precipitous flanks of the rocky summit, and it might at any moment slide +like a garment flung carelessly on the nearest chance-support, and, so +sliding, crush the village out of being, as the Rossberg when it tumbled +over on the valley of Goldau. + +Persons have been known to remove from the place, after a short residence +in it, because they were haunted day and night by the thought of this +awful green wall, piled up into the air over their heads. They would lie +awake of nights, thinking they heard the muffed snapping of roots, as if +a thousand acres of the mountain-side were tugging to break away, like +the snow from a house-roof, and a hundred thousand trees were clinging +with all their fibres to hold back the soil just ready to peel away and +crash down with all its rocks and forest-growths. And yet, by one of +those strange contradictions we are constantly finding in human nature, +there were natives of the town who would come back thirty or forty years +after leaving it, just to nestle under this same threatening +mountainside, as old men sun themselves against southward-facing walls. +The old dreams and legends of danger added to the attraction. If the +mountain should ever slide, they had a kind of feeling as if they ought +to be there. It was a fascination like that which the rattlesnake is +said to exert. + +This comparison naturally suggests the recollection of that other source +of danger which was an element in the every-day life of the Rockland +people. The folks in some of the neighboring towns had a joke against +them, that a Rocklander could n't hear a beanpod rattle without saying, +"The Lord have mercy on us!" It is very true, that many a nervous old +lady has had a terrible start, caused by some mischievous young rogue's +giving a sudden shake to one of these noisy vegetable products in her +immediate vicinity. Yet, strangely enough, many persons missed the +excitement of the possibility of a fatal bite in other regions, where +there were nothing but black and green and striped snakes, mean +ophidians, having the spite of the nobler serpent without his +venom,--poor crawling creatures, whom Nature would not trust with a +poison-bag. Many natives of Rockland did unquestionably experience a +certain gratification in this infinitesimal sense of danger. It was +noted that the old people retained their hearing longer than in other +places. Some said it was the softened climate, but others believed it +was owing to the habit of keeping their ears open whenever they were +walking through the grass or in the woods. At any rate, a slight sense +of danger is often an agreeable stimulus. People sip their creme de +noyau with a peculiar tremulous pleasure, because there is a bare +possibility that it may contain prussic acid enough to knock them over; +in which case they will lie as dead as if a thunder-cloud had emptied +itself into the earth through their brain and marrow. + +But Rockland had other features which helped to give it a special +character. First of all, there was one grand street which was its chief +glory. Elm Street it was called, naturally enough, for its elms made a +long, pointed-arched gallery of it through most of its extent. No +natural Gothic arch compares, for a moment, with that formed by two +American elms, where their lofty jets of foliage shoot across each +other's ascending curves, to intermingle their showery flakes of green. +When one looks through a long double row of these, as in that lovely +avenue which the poets of Yale remember so well, + + "Oh, could the vista of my life but now as bright appear + As when I first through Temple Street looked down thine espalier!" + +he beholds a temple not built with hands, fairer than any minster, with +all its clustered stems and flowering capitals, that ever grew in stone. + +Nobody knows New England who is not on terms of intimacy with one of its +elms. The elm comes nearer to having a soul than any other vegetable +creature among us. It loves man as man loves it. It is modest and +patient. It has a small flake of a seed which blows in everywhere and +makes arrangements for coming up by and by. So, in spring, one finds a +crop of baby-elms among his carrots and parsnips, very weak and small +compared to those succulent vegetables. The baby-elms die, most of them, +slain, unrecognized or unheeded, by hand or hoe, as meekly as Herod's +innocents. One of them gets overlooked, perhaps, until it has +established a kind of right to stay. Three generations of carrot and +parsnip consumers have passed away, yourself among them, and now let your +great-grandson look for the baby-elm. Twenty-two feet of clean girth, +three hundred and sixty feet in the line that bounds its leafy circle, it +covers the boy with such a canopy as neither glossy-leafed oak nor +insect-haunted linden ever lifted into the summer skies. + +Elm Street was the pride of Rockland, but not only on account of its +Gothic-arched vista. In this street were most of the great houses, or +"mansion-houses," as it was usual to call them. Along this street, also, +the more nicely kept and neatly painted dwellings were chiefly +congregated. It was the correct thing for a Rockland dignitary to have a +house in Elm Street. A New England "mansion-house" is naturally square, +with dormer windows projecting from the roof, which has a balustrade with +turned posts round it. It shows a good breadth of front-yard before its +door, as its owner shows a respectable expanse of a clean shirt-front. +It has a lateral margin beyond its stables and offices, as its master +wears his white wrist bands showing beyond his coat-cuffs. It may not +have what can properly be called grounds, but it must have elbow-room, at +any rate. Without it, it is like a man who is always tight-buttoned for +want of any linen to show. The mansion-house which has had to "button +itself up tight in fences, for want of green or gravel margin," will be +advertising for boarders presently. The old English pattern of the New +England mansion-house, only on a somewhat grander scale, is Sir Thomas +Abney's place, where dear, good Dr. Watts said prayers for the family, +and wrote those blessed hymns of his that sing us into consciousness in +our cradles, and come back to us in sweet, single verses, between the +moments of wandering and of stupor, when we lie dying, and sound over us +when we can no longer hear them, bringing grateful tears to the hot, +aching eyes beneath the thick, black veils, and carrying the holy calm +with them which filled the good man's heart, as he prayed and sung under +the shelter of the old English mansion-house. Next to the +mansion-houses, came the two-story trim, white-painted, "genteel" houses, +which, being more gossipy and less nicely bred, crowded close up to the +street, instead of standing back from it with arms akimbo, like the +mansion-houses. Their little front-yards were very commonly full of lilac +and syringa and other bushes, which were allowed to smother the lower +story almost to the exclusion of light and airy so that, what with small +windows and small windowpanes, and the darkness made by these choking +growths of shrubbery, the front parlors of some of these houses were the +most tomb-like, melancholy places that could be found anywhere among the +abodes of the living. Their garnishing was apt to assist this +impression. Large-patterned carpets, which always look discontented in +little rooms, haircloth furniture, black and shiny as beetles' wing +cases, and centre-tables, with a sullen oil-lamp of the kind called +astral by our imaginative ancestors, in the centre,--these things were +inevitable. In set piles round the lamp was ranged the current +literature of the day, in the form of Temperance Documents, unbound +numbers of one of the Unknown Public's Magazines with worn-out steel +engravings and high-colored fashion-plates, the Poems of a distinguished +British author whom it is unnecessary to mention, a volume of sermons, or +a novel or two, or both, according to the tastes of the family, and the +Good Book, which is always Itself in the cheapest and commonest company. +The father of the family with his hand in the breast of his coat, the +mother of the same in a wide-bordered cap, sometimes a print of the Last +Supper, by no means Morghen's, or the Father of his Country, or the old +General, or the Defender of the Constitution, or an unknown clergyman +with an open book before him,--these were the usual ornaments of the +walls, the first two a matter of rigor, the others according to politics +and other tendencies. + +This intermediate class of houses, wherever one finds them in New England +towns, are very apt to be cheerless and unsatisfactory. They have +neither the luxury of the mansion-house nor the comfort of the +farm-house. They are rarely kept at an agreeable temperature. The +mansion-house has large fireplaces and generous chimneys, and is open to +the sunshine. The farm-house makes no pretensions, but it has a good +warm kitchen, at any rate, and one can be comfortable there with the rest +of the family, without fear and without reproach. These lesser +country-houses of genteel aspirations are much given to patent +subterfuges of one kind and another to get heat without combustion. The +chilly parlor and the slippery hair-cloth seat take the life out of the +warmest welcome. If one would make these places wholesome, happy, and +cheerful, the first precept would be,--The dearest fuel, plenty of it, +and let half the heat go up the chimney. If you can't afford this, don't +try to live in a "genteel" fashion, but stick to the ways of the honest +farm-house. + +There were a good many comfortable farm-houses scattered about Rockland. +The best of them were something of the following pattern, which is too +often superseded of late by a more pretentious, but infinitely less +pleasing kind of rustic architecture. A little back from the road, +seated directly on the green sod, rose a plain wooden building, two +stories in front, with a long roof sloping backwards to within a few feet +of the ground. This, like the "mansion-house," is copied from an old +English pattern. Cottages of this model may be seen in Lancashire, for +instance, always with the same honest, homely look, as if their roofs +acknowledged their relationship to the soil out of which they sprung. +The walls were unpainted, but turned by the slow action of sun and air +and rain to a quiet dove or slate color. An old broken millstone at the +door,--a well-sweep pointing like a finger to the heavens, which the +shining round of water beneath looked up at like a dark unsleeping +eye,--a single large elm a little at one side,--a barn twice as big as +the house,--a cattle-yard, with + + "The white horns tossing above the wall,"-- + +some fields, in pasture or in crops, with low stone walls round them,--a +row of beehives,--a garden-patch, with roots, and currant-bushes, and +many-hued hollyhocks, and swollen-stemmed, globe-headed, seedling onions, +and marigolds and flower-de-luces, and lady's-delights, and peonies, +crowding in together, with southernwood in the borders, and woodbine and +hops and morning-glories climbing as they got a chance,--these were the +features by which the Rockland-born children remembered the farm-house, +when they had grown to be men. Such are the recollections that come over +poor sailor-boys crawling out on reeling yards to reef topsails as their +vessels stagger round the stormy Cape; and such are the flitting images +that make the eyes of old country-born merchants look dim and dreamy, as +they sit in their city palaces, warm with the after-dinner flush of the +red wave out of which Memory arises, as Aphrodite arose from the green +waves of the ocean. + +Two meeting-houses stood on two eminences, facing each other, and looking +like a couple of fighting-cocks with their necks straight up in the +air,--as if they would flap their roofs, the next thing, and crow out of +their upstretched steeples, and peck at each other's glass eyes with +their sharp-pointed weathercocks. + +The first was a good pattern of the real old-fashioned New England +meeting-house. It was a large barn with windows, fronted by a square +tower crowned with a kind of wooden bell inverted and raised on legs, out +of which rose a slender spire with the sharp-billed weathercock at its +summit. Inside, tall, square pews with flapping seats, and a gallery +running round three sides of the building. On the fourth side the +pulpit, with a huge, dusty sounding-board hanging over it. Here preached +the Reverend Pierrepont Honeywood, D. D., successor, after a number of +generations, to the office and the parsonage of the Reverend Didymus +Bean, before mentioned, but not suspected of any of his alleged heresies. +He held to the old faith of the Puritans, and occasionally delivered a +discourse which was considered by the hard-headed theologians of his +parish to have settled the whole matter fully and finally, so that now +there was a good logical basis laid down for the Millennium, which might +begin at once upon the platform of his demonstrations. Yet the Reverend +Dr. Honeywood was fonder of preaching plain, practical sermons about the +duties of life, and showing his Christianity in abundant good works among +his people. It was noticed by some few of his flock, not without +comment, that the great majority of his texts came from the Gospels, and +this more and more as he became interested in various benevolent +enterprises which brought him into relations with-ministers and +kindhearted laymen of other denominations. He was in fact a man of a +very warm, open, and exceedingly human disposition, and, although bred by +a clerical father, whose motto was "Sit anima mea cum Puritanis," he +exercised his human faculties in the harness of his ancient faith with +such freedom that the straps of it got so loose they did not interfere +greatly with the circulation of the warm blood through his system. Once +in a while he seemed to think it necessary to come out with a grand +doctrinal sermon, and them he would lapse away for a while into preaching +on men's duties to each other and to society, and hit hard, perhaps, at +some of the actual vices of the time and place, and insist with such +tenderness and eloquence on the great depth and breadth of true Christian +love and charity, that his oldest deacon shook his head, and wished he +had shown as much interest when he was preaching, three Sabbaths back, on +Predestination, or in his discourse against the Sabellians. But he was +sound in the faith; no doubt of that. Did he not preside at the council +held in the town of Tamarack, on the other side of the mountain, which +expelled its clergyman for maintaining heretical doctrines? As presiding +officer, he did not vote, of course, but there was no doubt that he was +all right; he had some of the Edwards blood in him, and that couldn't +very well let him go wrong. + +The meeting-house on the other and opposite summit was of a more modern +style, considered by many a great improvement on the old New England +model, so that it is not uncommon for a country parish to pull down its +old meeting-house, which has been preached in for a hundred years or so, +and put up one of these more elegant edifices. The new building was in +what may be called the florid shingle-Gothic manner. Its pinnacles and +crockets and other ornaments were, like the body of the building, all of +pine wood,--an admirable material, as it is very soft and easily worked, +and can be painted of any color desired. Inside, the walls were stuccoed +in imitation of stone,--first a dark brown square, then two light brown +squares, then another dark brown square, and so on, to represent the +accidental differences of shade always noticeable in the real stones of +which walls are built. To be sure, the architect could not help getting +his party-colored squares in almost as regular rhythmical order as those +of a chess-board; but nobody can avoid doing things in a systematic and +serial way; indeed, people who wish to plant trees in natural chimps know +very well that they cannot keep from making regular lines and symmetrical +figures, unless by some trick or other, as that one of throwing a peck of +potatoes up into the air and sticking in a tree wherever a potato happens +to fall. The pews of this meeting-house were the usual oblong ones, +where people sit close together, with a ledge before them to support +their hymn-books, liable only to occasional contact with the back of the +next pew's heads or bonnets, and a place running under the seat of that +pew where hats could be deposited,--always at the risk of the owner, in +case of injury by boots or crickets. + +In this meeting-house preached the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather, a divine +of the "Liberal" school, as it is commonly called, bred at that famous +college which used to be thought, twenty or thirty years ago, to have the +monopoly of training young men in the milder forms of heresy. His +ministrations were attended with decency, but not followed with +enthusiasm. "The beauty of virtue" got to be an old story at last. "The +moral dignity of human nature" ceased to excite a thrill of satisfaction, +after some hundred repetitions. It grew to be a dull business, this +preaching against stealing and intemperance, while he knew very well that +the thieves were prowling round orchards and empty houses, instead of +being there to hear the sermon, and that the drunkards, being rarely +church-goers, get little good by the statistics and eloquent appeals of +the preacher. Every now and then, however, the Reverend Mr. Fairweather +let off a polemic discourse against his neighbor opposite, which waked +his people up a little; but it was a languid congregation, at best,--very +apt to stay away from meeting in the afternoon, and not at all given to +extra evening services. The minister, unlike his rival of the other side +of the way, was a down-hearted and timid kind of man. He went on +preaching as he had been taught to preach, but he had misgivings at +times. There was a little Roman Catholic church at the foot of the hill +where his own was placed, which he always had to pass on Sundays. He +could never look on the thronging multitudes that crowded its pews and +aisles or knelt bare-headed on its steps, without a longing to get in +among them and go down on his knees and enjoy that luxury of devotional +contact which makes a worshipping throng as different from the same +numbers praying apart as a bed of coals is from a trail of scattered +cinders. + +"Oh, if I could but huddle in with those poor laborers and working-women!" +he would say to himself. "If I could but breathe that atmosphere, +stifling though it be, yet made holy by ancient litanies, and cloudy with +the smoke of hallowed incense, for one hour, instead of droning over +these moral precepts to my half-sleeping congregation!" The intellectual +isolation of his sect preyed upon him; for, of all terrible things to +natures like his, the most terrible is to belong to a minority. No +person that looked at his thin and sallow cheek, his sunken and sad eye, +his tremulous lip, his contracted forehead, or who heard his querulous, +though not unmusical voice, could fail to see that his life was an uneasy +one, that he was engaged in some inward conflict. His dark, melancholic +aspect contrasted with his seemingly cheerful creed, and was all the more +striking, as the worthy Dr. Honeywood, professing a belief which made him +a passenger on board a shipwrecked planet, was yet a most good-humored +and companionable gentleman, whose laugh on week-days did one as much +good to listen to as the best sermon he ever delivered on a Sunday. + +A mile or two from the centre of Rockland was a pretty little Episcopal +church, with a roof like a wedge of cheese, a square tower, a stained +window, and a trained rector, who read the service with such ventral +depth of utterance and rrreduplication of the rrresonant letter, that his +own mother would not have known him for her son, if the good woman had +not ironed his surplice and put it on with her own hands. + +There were two public-houses in the place: one dignified with the name of +the Mountain House, somewhat frequented by city people in the summer +months, large-fronted, three-storied, balconied, boasting a distinct +ladies'-drawing-room, and spreading a table d'hote of some pretensions; +the other, "Pollard's Tahvern," in the common speech,--a two-story +building, with a bar-room, once famous, where there was a great smell of +hay and boots and pipes and all other bucolic-flavored elements,--where +games of checkers were played on the back of the bellows with red and +white kernels of corn, or with beans and coffee, where a man slept in a +box-settle at night, to wake up early passengers,--where teamsters came +in, with wooden-handled whips and coarse frocks, reinforcing the bucolic +flavor of the atmosphere, and middle-aged male gossips, sometimes +including the squire of the neighboring law-office, gathered to exchange +a question or two about the news, and then fall into that solemn state of +suspended animation which the temperance bar-rooms of modern days produce +in human beings, as the Grotta del Cane does in dogs in the well-known +experiments related by travellers. This bar-room used to be famous for +drinking and storytelling, and sometimes fighting, in old times. That was +when there were rows of decanters on the shelf behind the bar, and a +hissing vessel of hot water ready, to make punch, and three or four +loggerheads (long irons clubbed at the end) were always lying in the fire +in the cold season, waiting to be plunged into sputtering and foaming +mugs of flip,--a goodly compound; speaking according to the flesh, made +with beer and sugar, and a certain suspicion of strong waters, over which +a little nutmeg being grated, and in it the hot iron being then allowed +to sizzle, there results a peculiar singed aroma, which the wise regard +as a warning to remove themselves at once out of the reach of temptation. + +But the bar of Pollard's Tahvern no longer presented its old attractions, +and the loggerheads had long disappeared from the fire. In place of the +decanters, were boxes containing "lozengers," as they were commonly +called, sticks of candy in jars, cigars in tumblers, a few lemons, grown +hard-skinned and marvellously shrunken by long exposure, but still feebly +suggestive of possible lemonade,--the whole ornamented by festoons of +yellow and blue cut flypaper. On the front shelf of the bar stood a +large German-silver pitcher of water, and scattered about were +ill-conditioned lamps, with wicks that always wanted picking, which +burned red and smoked a good deal, and were apt to go out without any +obvious cause, leaving strong reminiscences of the whale-fishery in the +circumambient air. + +The common schoolhouses of Rockland were dwarfed by the grandeur of the +Apollinean Institute. The master passed one of them, in a walk he was +taking, soon after his arrival at Rockland. He looked in at the rows of +desks, and recalled his late experiences. He could not help laughing, as +he thought how neatly he had knocked the young butcher off his pins. + +"A little science is a dangerous thing, 'as well as a little 'learning,'" +he said to himself; "only it's dangerous to the fellow you' try it on." +And he cut him a good stick, and began climbing the side of The Mountain +to get a look at that famous Rattlesnake Ledge. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE SUNBEAM AND THE SHADOW. + +The virtue of the world is not mainly in its leaders. In the midst of +the multitude which follows there is often something better than in the +one that goes before. Old generals wanted to take Toulon, but one of +their young colonels showed them how. The junior counsel has been known +not unfrequently to make a better argument than his senior fellow,--if, +indeed, he did not make both their arguments. Good ministers will tell +you they have parishioners who beat them in the practice of the virtues. +A great establishment, got up on commercial principles, like the +Apollinean Institute, might yet be well carried on, if it happened to get +good teachers. And when Master Langdon came to see its management, he +recognized that there must be fidelity and intelligence somewhere among +the instructors. It was only necessary to look for a moment at the fair, +open forehead, the still, tranquil eye of gentle, habitual authority, the +sweet gravity that lay upon the lips, to hear the clear answers to the +pupils' questions, to notice how every request had the force without the +form of a command, and the young man could not doubt that the good genius +of the school stood before him in the person of Helen barley. + +It was the old story. A poor country-clergyman dies, and leaves a widow +and a daughter. In Old England the daughter would have eaten the bitter +bread of a governess in some rich family. In New England she must keep a +school. So, rising from one sphere to another, she at length finds +herself the prima donna in the department of instruction in Mr. Silas +Peckham's educational establishment. + +What a miserable thing it is to be poor. She was dependent, frail, +sensitive, conscientious. She was in the power of a hard, grasping, +thin-blooded, tough-fibred, trading educator, who neither knew nor cared +for a tender woman's sensibilities, but who paid her and meant to have +his money's worth out of her brains, and as much more than his money's +worth as he could get. She was consequently, in plain English, +overworked, and an overworked woman is always a sad sight,--sadder a +great deal than an overworked man, because she is so much more fertile in +capacities of suffering than a man. She has so many varieties of +headache,--sometimes as if Jael were driving the nail that killed Sisera +into her temples,--sometimes letting her work with half her brain while +the other half throbs as if it would go to pieces,--sometimes tightening +round the brows as if her cap-band were a ring of iron,--and then her +neuralgias, and her backaches, and her fits of depression, in which she +thinks she is nothing and less than nothing, and those paroxysms which +men speak slightingly of as hysterical,--convulsions, that is all, only +not commonly fatal ones,--so many trials which belong to her fine and +mobile structure,--that she is always entitled to pity, when she is +placed in conditions which develop her nervous tendencies. + +The poor young lady's work had, of course, been doubled since the +departure of Master Langdon's predecessor. Nobody knows what the +weariness of instruction is, as soon as the teacher's faculties begin to +be overtasked, but those who have tried it. The relays of fresh pupils, +each new set with its exhausting powers in full action, coming one after +another, take out all the reserved forces and faculties of resistance +from the subject of their draining process. + +The day's work was over, and it was late in the evening, when she sat +down, tired and faint, with a great bundle of girls' themes or +compositions to read over before she could rest her weary head on the +pillow of her narrow trundle-bed, and forget for a while the treadmill +stair of labor she was daily climbing. + +How she dreaded this most forlorn of all a teacher's tasks! She was +conscientious in her duties, and would insist on reading every +sentence,--there was no saying where she might find faults of grammar or +bad spelling. There might have been twenty or thirty of these themes in +the bundle before her. Of course she knew pretty well the leading +sentiments they could contain: that beauty was subject to the accidents +of time; that wealth was inconstant, and existence uncertain; that virtue +was its own reward; that youth exhaled, like the dewdrop from the flower, +ere the sun had reached its meridian; that life was o'ershadowed with +trials; that the lessons of virtue instilled by our beloved teachers were +to be our guides through all our future career. The imagery employed +consisted principally of roses, lilies, birds, clouds, and brooks, with +the celebrated comparison of wayward genius to meteor. Who does not know +the small, slanted, Italian hand of these girls'-compositions, their +stringing together of the good old traditional copy-book phrases; their +occasional gushes of sentiment, their profound estimates of the world, +sounding to the old folks that read them as the experience of a bantam +pullet's last-hatched young one with the chips of its shell on its head +would sound to a Mother Cary's chicken, who knew the great ocean with all +its typhoons and tornadoes? Yet every now and then one is liable to be +surprised with strange clairvoyant flashes, that can hardly be explained, +except by the mysterious inspiration which every now and then seizes a +young girl and exalts her intelligence, just as hysteria in other +instances exalts the sensibility,--a little something of that which made +Joan of Arc, and the Burney girl who prophesied "Evelina," and the +Davidson sisters. In the midst of these commonplace exercises which Miss +Darley read over so carefully were two or three that had something of +individual flavor about them, and here and there there was an image or an +epithet which showed the footprint of a passionate nature, as a fallen +scarlet feather marks the path the wild flamingo has trodden. + +The young lady-teacher read them with a certain indifference of manner, +as one reads proofs--noting defects of detail, but not commonly arrested +by the matters treated of. Even Miss Charlotte Ann Wood's poem, +beginning-- + + "How sweet at evening's balmy hour," + +did not excite her. She marked the inevitable false rhyme of Cockney and +Yankee beginners, morn and dawn, and tossed the verses on the pile of +papers she had finished. She was looking over some of the last of them +in a rather listless way,--for the poor thing was getting sleepy in spite +of herself,--when she came to one which seemed to rouse her attention, +and lifted her drooping lids. She looked at it a moment before she would +touch it. Then she took hold of it by one corner and slid it off from +the rest. One would have said she was afraid of it, or had some +undefined antipathy which made it hateful to her. Such odd fancies are +common enough in young persons in her nervous state. Many of these young +people will jump up twenty times a day and run to dabble the tips of +their fingers in water, after touching the most inoffensive objects. + +This composition was written in a singular, sharp-pointed, long, slender +hand, on a kind of wavy, ribbed paper. There was something strangely +suggestive about the look of it, but exactly of what, Miss barley either +could not or did not try to think. The subject of the paper was The +Mountain,--the composition being a sort of descriptive rhapsody. It +showed a startling familiarity with some of the savage scenery of the +region. One would have said that the writer must have threaded its +wildest solitudes by the light of the moon and stars as well as by day. +As the teacher read on, her color changed, and a kind of tremulous +agitation came over her. There were hints in this strange paper she did +not know what to make of. There was something in its descriptions and +imagery that recalled,--Miss Darley could not say what,--but it made her +frightfully nervous. Still she could not help reading, till she came to +one passage which so agitated her, that the tired and over-wearied girl's +self-control left her entirely. She sobbed once or twice, then laughed +convulsively; and flung herself on the bed, where she worked out a set +hysteric spasm as she best might, without anybody to rub her hands and +see that she did not hurt herself. + +By and by she got quiet, rose and went to her bookcase, took down a +volume of Coleridge, and read a short time, and so to bed, to sleep and +wake from time to time with a sudden start out of uneasy dreams. + +Perhaps it is of no great consequence what it was in the composition +which set her off into this nervous paroxysm. She was in such a state +that almost any slight agitation would have brought on the attack, and it +was the accident of her transient excitability, very probably, which made +a trifling cause the seeming occasion of so much disturbance. The theme +was signed, in the same peculiar, sharp, slender hand, E. Venner, and +was, of course, written by that wild-looking girl who had excited the +master's curiosity and prompted his question, as before mentioned. The +next morning the lady-teacher looked pale and wearied, naturally enough, +but she was in her place at the usual hour, and Master Langdon in his +own. + +The girls had not yet entered the school room. + +"You have been ill, I am afraid," said Mr. Bernard. + +"I was not well yesterday," she, answered. "I had a worry and a kind of +fright. It is so dreadful to have the charge of all these young souls +and bodies. Every young girl ought to walk locked close, arm in arm, +between two guardian angels. Sometimes I faint almost with the thought +of all that I ought to do, and of my own weakness and wants.--Tell me, +are there not natures born so out of parallel with the lines of natural +law that nothing short of a miracle can bring them right?" + +Mr. Bernard had speculated somewhat, as all thoughtful persons of his +profession are forced to do, on the innate organic tendencies with which +individuals, families, and races are born. He replied, therefore, with a +smile, as one to whom the question suggested a very familiar class of +facts. + +"Why, of course. Each of us is only the footing-up of a double column of +figures that goes back to the first pair. Every unit tells,--and some of +them are plus, and some minus. If the columns don't add up right, it is +commonly because we can't make out all the figures. I don't mean to say +that something may not be added by Nature to make up for losses and keep +the race to its average, but we are mainly nothing but the answer to a +long sum in addition and subtraction. No doubt there are people born +with impulses at every possible angle to the parallels of Nature, as you +call them. If they happen to cut these at right angles, of course they +are beyond the reach of common influences. Slight obliquities are what +we have most to do with in education. Penitentiaries and insane asylums +take care of most of the right-angle cases.--I am afraid I have put it +too much like a professor, and I am only a student, you know. Pray, what +set you to asking me this? Any strange cases among the scholars?" + +The meek teacher's blue eyes met the luminous glance that came with the +question. She, too, was of gentle blood,--not meaning by that that she +was of any noted lineage, but that she came of a cultivated stock, never +rich, but long trained to intellectual callings. A thousand decencies, +amenities, reticences, graces, which no one thinks of until he misses +them, are the traditional right of those who spring from such families. +And when two persons of this exceptional breeding meet in the midst of +the common multitude, they seek each other's company at once by the +natural law of elective affinity. It is wonderful how men and women know +their peers. If two stranger queens, sole survivors of two shipwrecked +vessels, were cast, half-naked, on a rock together, each would at once +address the other as "Our Royal Sister." + +Helen Darley looked into the dark eyes of Bernard Langdon glittering with +the light which flashed from them with his question. Not as those +foolish, innocent country-girls of the small village did she look into +them, to be fascinated and bewildered, but to sound them with a calm, +steadfast purpose. "A gentleman," she said to herself, as she read his +expression and his features with a woman's rapid, but exhausting glance. +"A lady," he said to himself, as he met her questioning look,--so brief, +so quiet, yet so assured, as of one whom necessity had taught to read +faces quickly without offence, as children read the faces of parents, as +wives read the faces of hard-souled husbands. All this was but a few +seconds' work, and yet the main point was settled. If there had been any +vulgar curiosity or coarseness of any kind lurking in his expression, she +would have detected it. If she had not lifted her eyes to his face so +softly and kept them there so calmly and withdrawn them so quietly, he +would not have said to himself, "She is a LADY," for that word meant a +good deal to the descendant of the courtly Wentworths and the scholarly +Langdons. + +"There are strange people everywhere, Mr. Langdon," she said, "and I +don't think our schoolroom is an exception. I am glad you believe in the +force of transmitted tendencies. It would break my heart, if I did not +think that there are faults beyond the reach of everything but God's +special grace. I should die, if I thought that my negligence or +incapacity was alone responsible for the errors and sins of those I have +charge of. Yet there are mysteries I do not know how to account for." +She looked all round the schoolroom, and then said, in a whisper, "Mr. +Langdon, we had a girl that stole, in the school, not long ago. Worse +than that, we had a girl who tried to set us on fire. Children of good +people, both of them. And we have a girl now that frightens me so"-- + +The door opened, and three misses came in to take their seats: three +types, as it happened, of certain classes, into which it would not have +been difficult to distribute the greater number of the girls in the +school.--Hannah Martin. Fourteen years and three months old. +Short-necked, thick-waisted, round-cheeked, smooth, vacant forehead, +large, dull eyes. Looks good-natured, with little other expression. +Three buns in her bag, and a large apple. Has a habit of attacking her +provisions in school-hours.--Rosa Milburn. Sixteen. Brunette, with a +rare-ripe flush in her cheeks. Color comes and goes easily. Eyes +wandering, apt to be downcast. Moody at times. Said to be passionate, +if irritated. Finished in high relief. Carries shoulders well back and +walks well, as if proud of her woman's life, with a slight rocking +movement, being one of the wide-flanged pattern, but seems restless,--a +hard girl to look after. Has a romance in her pocket, which she means to +read in school-time.--Charlotte Ann Wood. Fifteen. The poetess before +mentioned. Long, light ringlets, pallid complexion, blue eyes. Delicate +child, half unfolded. Gentle, but languid and despondent. Does not go +much with the other girls, but reads a good deal, especially poetry, +underscoring favorite passages. Writes a great many verses, very fast, +not very correctly; full of the usual human sentiments, expressed in the +accustomed phrases. Under-vitalized. Sensibilities not covered with +their normal integuments. A negative condition, often confounded with +genius, and sometimes running into it. Young people who fall out of line +through weakness of the active faculties are often confounded with those +who step out of it through strength of the intellectual ones. + +The girls kept coming in, one after another, or in pairs or groups, until +the schoolroom was nearly full. Then there was a little pause, and a +light step was heard in the passage. The lady-teacher's eyes turned to +the door, and the master's followed them in the same direction. + +A girl of about seventeen entered. She was tall and slender, but +rounded, with a peculiar undulation of movement, such as one sometimes +sees in perfectly untutored country-girls, whom Nature, the queen of +graces, has taken in hand, but more commonly in connection with the very +highest breeding of the most thoroughly trained society. She was a +splendid scowling beauty, black-browed, with a flash of white teeth which +was always like a surprise when her lips parted. She wore a checkered +dress, of a curious pattern, and a camel's-hair scarf twisted a little +fantastically about her. She went to her seat, which she had moved a +short distance apart from the rest, and, sitting down, began playing +listlessly with her gold chain, as was a common habit with her, coiling +it and uncoiling it about her slender wrist, and braiding it in with her +long, delicate fingers. Presently she looked up. Black, piercing eyes, +not large,--a low forehead, as low as that of Clytie in the Townley +bust,--black hair, twisted in heavy braids,--a face that one could not +help looking at for its beauty, yet that one wanted to look away from for +something in its expression, and could not for those diamond eyes. They +were fixed on the lady-teacher now. The latter turned her own away, and +let them wander over the other scholars. But they could not help coming +back again for a single glance at the wild beauty. The diamond eyes were +on her still. She turned the leaves of several of her books, as if in +search of some passage, and, when she thought she had waited long enough +to be safe, once more stole a quick look at the dark girl. The diamond +eyes were still upon her. She put her kerchief to her forehead, which +had grown slightly moist; she sighed once, almost shivered, for she felt +cold; then, following some ill-defined impulse, which she could not +resist, she left her place and went to the young girl's desk. + +"What do you want of me, Elsie Venner?" It was a strange question to +put, for the girl had not signified that she wished the teacher to come +to her. + +"Nothing," she said. "I thought I could make you come." The girl spoke +in a low tone, a kind of half-whisper. She did not lisp, yet her +articulation of one or two consonants was not absolutely perfect. + +"Where did you get that flower, Elsie?" said Miss Darley. It was a rare +alpine flower, which was found only in one spot among the rocks of The +Mountain. + +"Where it grew," said Elsie Veneer. "Take it." The teacher could not +refuse her. The girl's finger tips touched hers as she took it. How +cold they were for a girl of such an organization! + +The teacher went back to her seat. She made an excuse for quitting the +schoolroom soon afterwards. The first thing she did was to fling the +flower into her fireplace and rake the ashes over it. The second was to +wash the tips of her fingers, as if she had been another Lady Macbeth. A +poor, over-tasked, nervous creature,--we must not think too much of her +fancies. + +After school was done, she finished the talk with the master which had +been so suddenly interrupted. There were things spoken of which may +prove interesting by and by, but there are other matters we must first +attend to. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE EVENT OF THE SEASON. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Colonel Sprowle's compliments to Mr. Langdon and requests +the pleasure of his company at a social entertainment on Wednesday +evening next. + "Elm St. Monday." + +On paper of a pinkish color and musky smell, with a large "S" at the top, +and an embossed border. Envelop adherent, not sealed. Addressed + + LANGDON ESQ. + Present. + +Brought by H. Frederic Sprowle, youngest son of the Colonel,--the H. of +course standing for the paternal Hezekiah, put in to please the father, +and reduced to its initial to please the mother, she having a marked +preference for Frederic. Boy directed to wait for an answer. + +"Mr. Langdon has the pleasure of accepting Mr. and Mrs. Colonel Sprowle's +polite invitation for Wednesday evening." + +On plain paper, sealed with an initial. + +In walking along the main street, Mr. Bernard had noticed a large house +of some pretensions to architectural display, namely, unnecessarily +projecting eaves, giving it a mushroomy aspect, wooden mouldings at +various available points, and a grandiose arched portico. It looked a +little swaggering by the side of one or two of the mansion-houses that +were not far from it, was painted too bright for Mr. Bernard's taste, had +rather too fanciful a fence before it, and had some fruit-trees planted +in the front-yard, which to this fastidious young gentleman implied a +defective sense of the fitness of things, not promising in people who +lived in so large a house, with a mushroom roof and a triumphal arch for +its entrance. + +This place was known as "Colonel Sprowle's villa," (genteel friends,)--as +"the elegant residence of our distinguished fellow-citizen, Colonel +Sprowle," (Rockland Weekly Universe,)--as "the neew haouse," (old +settlers,)--as "Spraowle's Folly," (disaffected and possibly envious +neighbors,)--and in common discourse, as "the Colonel's." + +Hezekiah Sprowle, Esquire, Colonel Sprowle of the Commonwealth's Militia, +was a retired "merchant." An India merchant he might, perhaps, have been +properly called; for he used to deal in West India goods, such as coffee, +sugar, and molasses, not to speak of rum,--also in tea, salt fish, +butter and cheese, oil and candles, dried fruit, agricultural "p'doose" +generally, industrial products, such as boots and shoes, and various +kinds of iron and wooden ware, and at one end of the establishment in +calicoes and other stuffs,--to say nothing of miscellaneous objects of +the most varied nature, from sticks of candy, which tempted in the +smaller youth with coppers in their fists, up to ornamental articles of +apparel, pocket-books, breast-pins, gilt-edged Bibles, stationery, in +short, everything which was like to prove seductive to the rural +population. The Colonel had made money in trade, and also by matrimony. +He had married Sarah, daughter and heiress of the late Tekel Jordan, +Esq., an old miser, who gave the town-clock, which carries his name to +posterity in large gilt letters as a generous benefactor of his native +place. In due time the Colonel reaped the reward of well-placed +affections. When his wife's inheritance fell in, he thought he had money +enough to give up trade, and therefore sold out his "store," called in +some dialects of the English language shop, and his business. + +Life became pretty hard work to him, of course, as soon as he had nothing +particular to do. Country people with money enough not to have to work +are in much more danger than city people in the same condition. They get +a specific look and character, which are the same in all the villages +where one studies them. They very commonly fall into a routine, the +basis of which is going to some lounging-place or other, a bar-room, a +reading-room, or something of the kind. They grow slovenly in dress, and +wear the same hat forever. They have a feeble curiosity for news +perhaps, which they take daily as a man takes his bitters, and then fall +silent and think they are thinking. But the mind goes out under this +regimen, like a fire without a draught; and it is not very strange, if +the instinct of mental self-preservation drives them to brandy-and-water, +which makes the hoarse whisper of memory musical for a few brief moments, +and puts a weak leer of promise on the features of the hollow-eyed +future. The Colonel was kept pretty well in hand as yet by his wife, and +though it had happened to him once or twice to come home rather late at +night with a curious tendency to say the same thing twice and even three +times over, it had always been in very cold weather,--and everybody knows +that no one is safe to drink a couple of glasses of wine in a warm room +and go suddenly out into the cold air. + +Miss Matilda Sprowle, sole daughter of the house, had reached the age at +which young ladies are supposed in technical language to have come out, +and thereafter are considered to be in company. + +"There's one piece o' goods," said the Colonel to his wife, "that we +ha'n't disposed of, nor got a customer for yet. That 's Matildy. I +don't mean to set HER up at vaandoo. I guess she can have her pick of a +dozen." + +"She 's never seen anybody yet," said Mrs. Sprowle, who had had a certain +project for some time, but had kept quiet about it. "Let's have a party, +and give her a chance to show herself and see some of the young folks." + +The Colonel was not very clear-headed, and he thought, naturally enough, +that the party was his own suggestion, because his remark led to the +first starting of the idea. He entered into the plan, therefore, with a +feeling of pride as well as pleasure, and the great project was resolved +upon in a family council without a dissentient voice. This was the +party, then, to which Mr. Bernard was going. The town had been full of it +for a week. "Everybody was asked." So everybody said that was invited. +But how in respect of those who were not asked? If it had been one of +the old mansion-houses that was giving a party, the boundary between the +favored and the slighted families would have been known pretty well +beforehand, and there would have been no great amount of grumbling. But +the Colonel, for all his title, had a forest of poor relations and a +brushwood swamp of shabby friends, for he had scrambled up to fortune, +and now the time was come when he must define his new social position. + +This is always an awkward business in town or country. An exclusive +alliance between two powers is often the same thing as a declaration of +war against a third. Rockland was soon split into a triumphant minority, +invited to Mrs. Sprowle's party, and a great majority, uninvited, of +which the fraction just on the border line between recognized "gentility" +and the level of the ungloved masses was in an active state of excitement +and indignation. + +"Who is she, I should like to know?" said Mrs. Saymore, the tailor's +wife. "There was plenty of folks in Rockland as good as ever Sally +Jordan was, if she had managed to pick up a merchant. Other folks could +have married merchants, if their families was n't as wealthy as them old +skinflints that willed her their money," etc., etc. Mrs. Saymore +expressed the feeling of many beside herself. She had, however, a +special right to be proud of the name she bore. Her husband was own +cousin to the Saymores of Freestone Avenue (who write the name Seymour, +and claim to be of the Duke of Somerset's family, showing a clear descent +from the Protector to Edward Seymour, (1630,)--then a jump that would +break a herald's neck to one Seth Saymore,(1783,)--from whom to the head +of the present family the line is clear again). Mrs. Saymore, the +tailor's wife, was not invited, because her husband mended clothes. If +he had confined himself strictly to making them, it would have put a +different face upon the matter. + +The landlord of the Mountain House and his lady were invited to Mrs. +Sprowle's party. Not so the landlord of Pollard's Tahvern and his lady. +Whereupon the latter vowed that they would have a party at their house +too, and made arrangements for a dance of twenty or thirty couples, to be +followed by an entertainment. Tickets to this "Social Ball" were soon +circulated, and, being accessible to all at a moderate price, admission +to the "Elegant Supper" included, this second festival promised to be as +merry, if not as select, as the great party. + +Wednesday came. Such doings had never been heard of in Rockland as went +on that day at the "villa." The carpet had been taken up in the long +room, so that the young folks might have a dance. Miss Matilda's piano +had been moved in, and two fiddlers and a clarionet-player engaged to +make music. All kinds of lamps had been put in requisition, and even +colored wax-candles figured on the mantel-pieces. The costumes of the +family had been tried on the day before: the Colonel's black suit fitted +exceedingly well; his lady's velvet dress displayed her contours to +advantage; Miss Matilda's flowered silk was considered superb; the eldest +son of the family, Mr. T. Jordan Sprowle, called affectionately and +elegantly "Geordie," voted himself "stunnin'"; and even the small youth +who had borne Mr. Bernard's invitation was effective in a new jacket and +trousers, buttony in front, and baggy in the reverse aspect, as is wont +to be the case with the home-made garments of inland youngsters. + +Great preparations had been made for the refection which was to be part +of the entertainment. There was much clinking of borrowed spoons, which +were to be carefully counted, and much clicking of borrowed china, which +was to be tenderly handled, for nobody in the country keeps those vast +closets full of such things which one may see in rich city-houses. Not a +great deal could be done in the way of flowers, for there were no +greenhouses, and few plants were out as yet; but there were paper +ornaments for the candlesticks, and colored mats for the lamps, and all +the tassels of the curtains and bells were taken out of those brown linen +bags, in which, for reasons hitherto undiscovered, they are habitually +concealed in some households. In the remoter apartments every imaginable +operation was going on at once,--roasting, boiling, baking, beating, +rolling, pounding in mortars, frying, freezing; for there was to be +ice-cream to-night of domestic manufacture;--and in the midst of all +these labors, Mrs. Sprowle and Miss Matilda were moving about, directing +and helping as they best might, all day long. When the evening came, it +might be feared they would not be in just the state of mind and body to +entertain company. + +--One would like to give a party now and then, if one could be a +billionnaire.--"Antoine, I am going to have twenty people to dine +to-day." "Biens, Madame." Not a word or thought more about it, but get +home in season to dress, and come down to your own table, one of your own +guests.--"Giuseppe, we are to have a party a week from to-night,--five +hundred invitations--there is the list." The day comes. "Madam, do you +remember you have your party tonight?" "Why, so I have! Everything +right? supper and all?" "All as it should be, Madam." + +"Send up Victorine." "Victorine, full toilet for this evening,--pink, +diamonds, and emeralds. Coiffeur at seven. Allez."--Billionism, or +even millionism, must be a blessed kind of state, with health and clear +conscience and youth and good looks,--but most blessed is this, that it +takes off all the mean cares which give people the three wrinkles between +the eyebrows, and leaves them free to have a good time and make others +have a good time, all the way along from the charity that tips up +unexpected loads of wood before widows' houses, and leaves foundling +turkeys upon poor men's door-steps, and sets lean clergymen crying at the +sight of anonymous fifty-dollar bills, to the taste which orders a +perfect banquet in such sweet accord with every sense that everybody's +nature flowers out full--blown in its golden--glowing, fragrant +atmosphere. + +--A great party given by the smaller gentry of the interior is a kind of +solemnity, so to speak. It involves so much labor and anxiety,--its +spasmodic splendors are so violently contrasted with the homeliness of +every-day family-life,--it is such a formidable matter to break in the +raw subordinates to the manege of the cloak-room and the table,--there is +such a terrible uncertainty in the results of unfamiliar culinary +operations,--so many feuds are involved in drawing that fatal line which +divides the invited from the uninvited fraction of the local +universe,--that, if the notes requested the pleasure of the guests' +company on "this solemn occasion," they would pretty nearly express the +true state of things. + +The Colonel himself had been pressed into the service. He had pounded +something in the great mortar. He had agitated a quantity of sweetened +and thickened milk in what was called a cream-freezer. At eleven +o'clock, A. M., he retired for a space. On returning, his color was +noted to be somewhat heightened, and he showed a disposition to be +jocular with the female help,--which tendency, displaying itself in +livelier demonstrations than were approved at head-quarters, led to his +being detailed to out-of-door duties, such as raking gravel, arranging +places for horses to be hitched to, and assisting in the construction of +an arch of wintergreen at the porch of the mansion. + +A whiff from Mr. Geordie's cigar refreshed the toiling females from time +to time; for the windows had to be opened occasionally, while all these +operations were going on, and the youth amused himself with inspecting +the interior, encouraging the operatives now and then in the phrases +commonly employed by genteel young men,--for he had perused an odd volume +of "Verdant Green," and was acquainted with a Sophomore from one of the +fresh-water colleges. "Go it on the feed!" exclaimed this spirited young +man. "Nothin' like a good spread. Grub enough and good liquor, that's +the ticket. Guv'nor'll do the heavy polite, and let me alone for +polishin' off the young charmers." And Mr. Geordie looked expressively at +a handmaid who was rolling gingerbread, as if he were rehearsing for "Don +Giovanni." + +Evening came at last, and the ladies were forced to leave the scene of +their labors to array themselves for the coming festivities. The tables +had been set in a back room, the meats were ready, the pickles were +displayed, the cake was baked, the blanc-mange had stiffened, and the +ice-cream had frozen. + +At half past seven o'clock, the Colonel, in costume, came into the front +parlor, and proceeded to light the lamps. Some were good-humored enough +and took the hint of a lighted match at once. Others were as vicious as +they could be,--would not light on any terms, any more than if they were +filled with water, or lighted and smoked one side of the chimney, or +spattered a few sparks and sulked themselves out, or kept up a faint show +of burning, so that their ground glasses looked as feebly phosphorescent +as so many invalid fireflies. With much coaxing and screwing and +pricking, a tolerable illumination was at last achieved. At eight there +was a grand rustling of silks, and Mrs. and Miss Sprowle descended from +their respective bowers or boudoirs. Of course they were pretty well +tired by this time, and very glad to sit down,--having the prospect +before them of being obliged to stand for hours. The Colonel walked +about the parlor, inspecting his regiment of lamps. By and by Mr. +Geordie entered. + +"Mph! mph!" he sniffed, as he came in. "You smell of lamp-smoke here." + +That always galls people,--to have a new-comer accuse them of smoke or +close air, which they have got used to and do not perceive. The Colonel +raged at the thought of his lamps' smoking, and tongued a few anathemas +inside of his shut teeth, but turned down two or three wicks that burned +higher than the rest. + +Master H. Frederic next made his appearance, with questionable marks upon +his fingers and countenance. Had been tampering with something brown and +sticky. His elder brother grew playful, and caught him by the baggy +reverse of his more essential garment. + +"Hush!" said Mrs. Sprowle,--"there 's the bell!" + +Everybody took position at once, and began to look very smiling and +altogether at ease.--False alarm. Only a parcel of spoons,--"loaned," +as the inland folks say when they mean lent, by a neighbor. + +"Better late than never!" said the Colonel, "let me heft them spoons." + +Mrs. Sprowle came down into her chair again as if all her bones had been +bewitched out of her. + +"I'm pretty nigh beat out a'ready," said she, "before any of the folks +has come." + +They sat silent awhile, waiting for the first arrival. How nervous they +got! and how their senses were sharpened! + +"Hark!" said Miss Matilda,--"what 's that rumblin'?" + +It was a cart going over a bridge more than a mile off, which at any +other time they would not have heard. After this there was a lull, and +poor Mrs. Sprowle's head nodded once or twice. Presently a crackling and +grinding of gravel;--how much that means, when we are waiting for those +whom we long or dread to see! Then a change in the tone of the +gravel-crackling. + +"Yes, they have turned in at our gate. They're comin'! Mother! mother!" + +Everybody in position, smiling and at ease. Bell rings. Enter the first +set of visitors. The Event of the Season has begun. + +"Law! it's nothin' but the Cranes' folks! I do believe Mahala 's come in +that old green de-laine she wore at the Surprise Party!" + +Miss Matilda had peeped through a crack of the door and made this +observation and the remark founded thereon. Continuing her attitude of +attention, she overheard Mrs. Crane and her two daughters conversing in +the attiring-room, up one flight. + +"How fine everything is in the great house!" said Mrs. Crane,--"jest +look at the picters!" + +"Matildy Sprowle's drawin's," said Ada Azuba, the eldest daughter. + +"I should think so," said Mahala Crane, her younger sister,--a wide-awake +girl, who had n't been to school for nothing, and performed a little on +the lead pencil herself. "I should like to know whether that's a +hay-cock or a mountain!" + +Miss Matilda winced; for this must refer to her favorite monochrome, +executed by laying on heavy shadows and stumping them down into mellow +harmony,--the style of drawing which is taught in six lessons, and the +kind of specimen which is executed in something less than one hour. +Parents and other very near relatives are sometimes gratified with these +productions, and cause them to be framed and hung up, as in the present +instance. + +"I guess we won't go down jest yet," said Mrs. Crane, "as folks don't +seem to have come." + +So she began a systematic inspection of the dressing-room and its +conveniences. + +"Mahogany four-poster;--come from the Jordans', I cal'la,te. Marseilles +quilt. Ruffles all round the piller. Chintz curtings,--jest put +up,--o' purpose for the party, I'll lay ye a dollar.--What a nice +washbowl!" (Taps it with a white knuckle belonging to a red finger.) +"Stone chaney.--Here's a bran'-new brush and comb,--and here's a +scent-bottle. Come here, girls, and fix yourselves in the glass, and +scent your pocket-handkerchers." + +And Mrs. Crane bedewed her own kerchief with some of the eau de Cologne +of native manufacture,--said on its label to be much superior to the +German article. + +It was a relief to Mrs. and the Miss Cranes when the bell rang and the +next guests were admitted. Deacon and Mrs. Soper,--Deacon Soper of the +Rev. Mr. Fairweather's church, and his lady. Mrs. Deacon Soper was +directed, of course, to the ladies' dressing-room, and her husband to the +other apartment, where gentlemen were to leave their outside coats and +hats. Then came Mr. and Mrs. Briggs, and then the three Miss Spinneys, +then Silas Peckham, Head of the Apollinean Institute, and Mrs. Peckham, +and more after them, until at last the ladies' dressing-room got so full +that one might have thought it was a trap none of them could get out of. +In truth, they all felt a little awkwardly. Nobody wanted to be first to +venture down-stairs. At last Mr. Silas Peckham thought it was time to +make a move for the parlor, and for this purpose presented himself at the +door of the ladies' dressing-room. + +"Lorindy, my dear!" he exclaimed to Mrs. Peckham,--"I think there can be +no impropriety in our joining the family down-stairs." + +Mrs. Peckham laid her large, flaccid arm in the sharp angle made by the +black sleeve which held the bony limb her husband offered, and the two +took the stair and struck out for the parlor. The ice was broken, and +the dressing-room began to empty itself into the spacious, lighted +apartments below. + +Mr. Silas Peckham slid into the room with Mrs. Peckham alongside, like a +shad convoying a jelly-fish. + +"Good-evenin', Mrs. Sprowle! I hope I see you well this evenin'. How 's +your haalth, Colonel Sprowle?" + +"Very well, much obleeged to you. Hope you and your good lady are well. +Much pleased to see you. Hope you'll enjoy yourselves. We've laid out +to have everything in good shape,--spared no trouble nor ex"-- + +"pence,"--said Silas Peckham. + +Mrs. Colonel Sprowle, who, you remember, was a Jordan, had nipped the +Colonel's statement in the middle of the word Mr. Peckham finished, with +a look that jerked him like one of those sharp twitches women keep giving +a horse when they get a chance to drive one. + +Mr. and Mrs. Crane, Miss Ada Azuba, and Miss Mahala Crane made their +entrance. There had been a discussion about the necessity and propriety +of inviting this family, the head of which kept a small shop for hats and +boots and shoes. The Colonel's casting vote had carried it in the +affirmative.--How terribly the poor old green de-laine did cut up in the +blaze of so many lamps and candles. + +--Deluded little wretch, male or female, in town or country, going to +your first great party, how little you know the nature of the ceremony in +which you are to bear the part of victim! What! are not these garlands +and gauzy mists and many-colored streamers which adorn you, is not this +music which welcomes you, this radiance that glows about you, meant +solely for your enjoyment, young miss of seventeen or eighteen summers, +now for the first time swimming unto the frothy, chatoyant, sparkling, +undulating sea of laces and silks and satins, and white-armed, +flower-crowned maidens struggling in their waves beneath the lustres that +make the false summer of the drawing-room? + +Stop at the threshold! This is a hall of judgment you are entering; the +court is in session; and if you move five steps forward, you will be at +its bar. + +There was a tribunal once in France, as you may remember, called the +Chambre Ardente, the Burning Chamber. It was hung all round with lamps, +and hence its name. The burning chamber for the trial of young maidens +is the blazing ball-room. What have they full-dressed you, or rather +half-dressed you for, do you think? To make you look pretty, of course! +Why have they hung a chandelier above you, flickering all over with +flames, so that it searches you like the noonday sun, and your deepest +dimple cannot hold a shadow? To give brilliancy to the gay scene, no +doubt!--No, my clear! Society is inspecting you, and it finds +undisguised surfaces and strong lights a convenience in the process. The +dance answers the purpose of the revolving pedestal upon which the "White +Captive" turns, to show us the soft, kneaded marble, which looks as if it +had never been hard, in all its manifold aspects of living loveliness. +No mercy for you, my love! Justice, strict justice, you shall certainly +have,--neither more nor less. For, look you, there are dozens, scores, +hundreds, with whom you must be weighed in the balance; and you have got +to learn that the "struggle for life" Mr. Charles Darwin talks about +reaches to vertebrates clad in crinoline, as well as to mollusks in +shells, or articulates in jointed scales, or anything that fights for +breathing-room and food and love in any coat of fur or feather! Happy +they who can flash defiance from bright eyes and snowy shoulders back +into the pendants of the insolent lustres! + +--Miss Mahala Crane did not have these reflections; and no young girl +ever did, or ever will, thank Heaven! Her keen eyes sparkled under her +plainly parted hair and the green de-laine moulded itself in those +unmistakable lines of natural symmetry in which Nature indulges a small +shopkeeper's daughter occasionally as well as a wholesale dealer's young +ladies. She would have liked a new dress as much as any other girl, but +she meant to go and have a good time at any rate. + +The guests were now arriving in the drawing-room pretty fast, and the +Colonel's hand began to burn a good deal with the sharp squeezes which +many of the visitors gave it. Conversation, which had begun like a +summer-shower, in scattering drops, was fast becoming continuous, and +occasionally rising into gusty swells, with now and then a broad-chested +laugh from some Captain or Major or other military personage,--for it may +be noted that all large and loud men in the unpaved districts bear +military titles. + +Deacon Soper came up presently, and entered into conversation with +Colonel Sprowle. + +"I hope to see our pastor present this evenin'," said the Deacon. + +"I don't feel quite sure," the Colonel answered. "His dyspepsy has been +bad on him lately. He wrote to say, that, Providence permittin', it +would be agreeable to him to take a part in the exercises of the evenin'; +but I mistrusted he did n't mean to come. To tell the truth, Deacon +Soper, I rather guess he don't like the idee of dancin', and some of the +other little arrangements." + +"Well," said the Deacon, "I know there's some condemns dancin'. I've +heerd a good deal of talk about it among the folks round. Some have it +that it never brings a blessin' on a house to have dancin' in it. Judge +Tileston died, you remember, within a month after he had his great ball, +twelve year ago, and some thought it was in the natur' of a judgment. I +don't believe in any of them notions. If a man happened to be struck +dead the night after he'd been givin' a ball," (the Colonel loosened his +black stock a little, and winked and swallowed two or three times,) "I +should n't call it a judgment,--I should call it a coincidence. But I 'm +a little afraid our pastor won't come. Somethin' or other's the matter +with Mr. Fairweather. I should sooner expect to see the old Doctor come +over out of the Orthodox parsonage-house." + +"I've asked him," said the Colonel. + +"Well?" said Deacon Soper. + +"He said he should like to come, but he did n't know what his people +would say. For his part, he loved to see young folks havin' their sports +together, and very often felt as if he should like to be one of 'em +himself. 'But,' says I, 'Doctor, I don't say there won't be a little +dancin'.' 'Don't!' says he, 'for I want Letty to go,' (she's his +granddaughter that's been stayin' with him,) 'and Letty 's mighty fond of +dancin'. You know,' says the Doctor, 'it is n't my business to settle +whether other people's children should dance or not.' And the Doctor +looked as if he should like to rigadoon and sashy across as well as the +young one he was talkin' about. He 's got blood in him, the old Doctor +has. I wish our little man and him would swop pulpits." + +Deacon Soper started and looked up into the Colonel's face, as if to see +whether he was in earnest. + +Mr. Silas Peckham and his lady joined the group. + +"Is this to be a Temperance Celebration, Mrs. Sprowle?" asked Mr. Silas +Peckham. + +Mrs. Sprowle replied, "that there would be lemonade and srub for those +that preferred such drinks, but that the Colonel had given folks to +understand that he did n't mean to set in judgment on the marriage in +Canaan, and that those that didn't like srub and such things would find +somethin' that would suit them better." + +Deacon Soper's countenance assumed a certain air of restrained +cheerfulness. The conversation rose into one of its gusty paroxysms just +then. Master H. Frederic got behind a door and began performing the +experiment of stopping and unstopping his ears in rapid alternation, +greatly rejoicing in the singular effect of mixed conversation chopped +very small, like the contents of a mince-pie, or meat-pie, as it is more +forcibly called in the deep-rutted villages lying along the unsalted +streams. All at once it grew silent just round the door, where it had +been loudest,--and the silence spread itself like a stain, till it hushed +everything but a few corner-duets. A dark, sad-looking, middle-aged +gentleman entered the parlor, with a young lady on his arm,--his +daughter, as it seemed, for she was not wholly unlike him in feature, and +of the same dark complexion. + +"Dudley Venner," exclaimed a dozen people, in startled, but +half-suppressed tones. + +"What can have brought Dudley out to-night?" said Jefferson Buck, a young +fellow, who had been interrupted in one of the corner-duets which he was +executing in concert with Miss Susy Pettingill. + +"How do I know, Jeff?" was Miss Susy's answer. Then, after a +pause,--"Elsie made him come, I guess. Go ask Dr. Kittredge; he knows +all about 'em both, they say." + +Dr. Kittredge, the leading physician of Rockland, was a shrewd old man, +who looked pretty keenly into his patients through his spectacles, and +pretty widely at men, women, and things in general over them. +Sixty-three years old,--just the year of the grand climacteric. A bald +crown, as every doctor should have. A consulting practitioner's mouth; +that is, movable round the corners while the case is under examination, +but both corners well drawn down and kept so when the final opinion is +made up. In fact, the Doctor was often sent for to act as "caounsel," +all over the county, and beyond it. He kept three or four horses, +sometimes riding in the saddle, commonly driving in a sulky, pretty fast, +and looking straight before him, so that people got out of the way of +bowing to him as he passed on the road. There was some talk about his +not being so long-sighted as other folks, but his old patients laughed +and looked knowing when this was spoken of. + +The Doctor knew a good many things besides how to drop tinctures and +shake out powders. Thus, he knew a horse, and, what is harder to +understand, a horse-dealer, and was a match for him. He knew what a +nervous woman is, and how to manage her. He could tell at a glance when +she is in that condition of unstable equilibrium in which a rough word is +like a blow to her, and the touch of unmagnetized fingers reverses all +her nervous currents. It is not everybody that enters into the soul of +Mozart's or Beethoven's harmonies; and there are vital symphonies in B +flat, and other low, sad keys, which a doctor may know as little of as a +hurdy-gurdy player of the essence of those divine musical mysteries. The +Doctor knew the difference between what men say and what they mean as +well as most people. When he was listening to common talk, he was in the +habit of looking over his spectacles; if he lifted his head so as to look +through them at the person talking, he was busier with that person's +thoughts than with his words. + +Jefferson Buck was not bold enough to confront the Doctor with Miss +Susy's question, for he did not look as if he were in the mood to answer +queries put by curious young people. His eyes were fixed steadily on the +dark girl, every movement of whom he seemed to follow. + +She was, indeed, an apparition of wild beauty, so unlike the girls about +her that it seemed nothing more than natural, that, when she moved, the +groups should part to let her pass through them, and that she should +carry the centre of all looks and thoughts with her. She was dressed to +please her own fancy, evidently, with small regard to the modes declared +correct by the Rockland milliners and mantua-makers. Her heavy black +hair lay in a braided coil, with a long gold pin shat through it like a +javelin. Round her neck was a golden torque, a round, cord-like chain, +such as the Gaols used to wear; the "Dying Gladiator" has it. Her dress +was a grayish watered silk; her collar was pinned with a flashing diamond +brooch, the stones looking as fresh as morning dew-drops, but the silver +setting of the past generation; her arms were bare, round, but slender +rather than large, in keeping with her lithe round figure. On her wrists +she wore bracelets: one was a circlet of enamelled scales; the other +looked as if it might have been Cleopatra's asp, with its body turned to +gold and its, eyes to emeralds. + +Her father--for Dudley Venner was her father--looked like a man of +culture and breeding, but melancholy and with a distracted air, as one +whose life had met some fatal cross or blight. He saluted hardly anybody +except his entertainers and the Doctor. One would have said, to look at +him, that he was not at the party by choice; and it was natural enough to +think, with Susy Pettingill, that it must have been a freak of the dark +girl's which brought him there, for he had the air of a shy and +sad-hearted recluse. + +It was hard to say what could have brought Elsie Venner to the party. +Hardly anybody seemed to know her, and she seemed not at all disposed to +make acquaintances. Here and there was one of the older girls from the +Institute, but she appeared to have nothing in common with them. Even in +the schoolroom, it may be remembered, she sat apart by her own choice, +and now in the midst of the crowd she made a circle of isolation round +herself. Drawing her arm out of her father's, she stood against the +wall, and looked, with a strange, cold glitter in her eyes, at the crowd +which moved and babbled before her. + +The old Doctor came up to her by and by. + +"Well, Elsie, I am quite surprised to find you here. Do tell me how you +happened to do such a good-natured thing as to let us see you at such a +great party." + +"It's been dull at the mansion-house," she said, "and I wanted to get out +of it. It's too lonely there,--there's nobody to hate since Dick's +gone." + +The Doctor laughed good-naturedly, as if this were an amusing bit of +pleasantry,--but he lifted his head and dropped his eyes a little, so as +to see her through his spectacles. She narrowed her lids slightly, as +one often sees a sleepy cat narrow hers,--somewhat as you may remember +our famous Margaret used to, if you remember her at all,--so that her +eyes looked very small, but bright as the diamonds on her breast. The +old Doctor felt very oddly as she looked at him; be did not like the +feeling, so he dropped his head and lifted his eyes and looked at her +over his spectacles again. + +"And how have you all been at the mansion house?" said the Doctor. + +"Oh, well enough. But Dick's gone, and there's nobody left but Dudley +and I and the people. I'm tired of it. What kills anybody quickest, +Doctor?" Then, in a whisper, "I ran away again the other day, you know." + +"Where did you go?" The Doctor spoke in a low, serious tone. + +"Oh, to the old place. Here, I brought this for you." + +The Doctor started as she handed him a flower of the Atragene Americana, +for he knew that there was only one spot where it grew, and that not one +where any rash foot, least of all a thin-shod woman's foot, should +venture. + +"How long were you gone?" said the Doctor. + +"Only one night. You should have heard the horns blowing and the guns +firing. Dudley was frightened out of his wits. Old Sophy told him she'd +had a dream, and that I should be found in Dead-Man's Hollow, with a +great rock lying on me. They hunted all over it, but they did n't find +me,--I was farther up." + +Doctor Kittredge looked cloudy and worried while she was speaking, but +forced a pleasant professional smile, as he said cheerily, and as if +wishing to change the subject, + +"Have a good dance this evening, Elsie. The fiddlers are tuning up. +Where 's the young master? has he come yet? or is he going to be late, +with the other great folks?" + +The girl turned away without answering, and looked toward the door. + +The "great folks," meaning the mansion-house gentry, were just beginning +to come; Dudley Venner and his daughter had been the first of them. +Judge Thornton, white-headed, fresh-faced, as good at sixty as he was at +forty, with a youngish second wife, and one noble daughter, Arabella, +who, they said, knew as much law as her father, a stately, Portia like +girl, fit for a premier's wife, not like to find her match even in the +great cities she sometimes visited; the Trecothicks, the family of a +merchant, (in the larger sense,) who, having made himself rich enough by +the time he had reached middle life, threw down his ledger as Sylla did +his dagger, and retired to make a little paradise around him in one of +the stateliest residences of the town, a family inheritance; the +Vaughans, an old Rockland race, descended from its first settlers, +Toryish in tendency in Revolutionary times, and barely escaping +confiscation or worse; the Dunhams, a new family, dating its gentility +only as far back as the Honorable Washington Dunham, M. C., but turning +out a clever boy or two that went to college; and some showy girls with +white necks and fat arms who had picked up professional husbands: these +were the principal mansion-house people. All of them had made it a point +to come; and as each of them entered, it seemed to Colonel and Mrs. +Sprowle that the lamps burned up with a more cheerful light, and that the +fiddles which sounded from the uncarpeted room were all half a tone +higher and half a beat quicker. + +Mr. Bernard came in later than any of them; he had been busy with his new +duties. He looked well and that is saying a good deal; for nothing but a +gentleman is endurable in full dress. Hair that masses well, a head set +on with an air, a neckerchief tied cleverly by an easy, practised hand, +close-fitting gloves, feet well shaped and well covered,--these +advantages can make us forgive the odious sable broadcloth suit, which +appears to have been adopted by society on the same principle that +condemned all the Venetian gondolas to perpetual and uniform blackness. +Mr. Bernard, introduced by Mr. Geordie, made his bow to the Colonel and +his lady and to Miss Matilda, from whom he got a particularly gracious +curtsy, and then began looking about him for acquaintances. He found two +or three faces he knew,--many more strangers. There was Silas +Peckham,--there was no mistaking him; there was the inelastic amplitude +of Mrs. Peckham; few of the Apollinean girls, of course, they not being +recognized members of society,--but there is one with the flame in her +cheeks and the fire in her eyes, the girl of vigorous tints and emphatic +outlines, whom we saw entering the schoolroom the other day. Old Judge +Thornton has his eyes on her, and the Colonel steals a look every now and +then at the red brooch which lifts itself so superbly into the light, as +if he thought it a wonderfully becoming ornament. Mr. Bernard himself +was not displeased with the general effect of the rich-blooded +schoolgirl, as she stood under the bright lamps, fanning herself in the +warm, languid air, fixed in a kind of passionate surprise at the new life +which seemed to be flowering out in her consciousness. Perhaps he looked +at her somewhat steadily, as some others had done; at any rate, she +seemed to feel that she was looked at, as people often do, and, turning +her eyes suddenly on him, caught his own on her face, gave him a +half-bashful smile, and threw in a blush involuntarily which made it more +charming. + +"What can I do better," he said to himself, "than have a dance with Rosa +Milburn?" So he carried his handsome pupil into the next room and took +his place with her in a cotillon. Whether the breath of the Goddess of +Love could intoxicate like the cup of Circe,--whether a woman is ever +phosphorescent with the luminous vapor of life that she exhales,--these +and other questions which relate to occult influences exercised by +certain women we will not now discuss. It is enough that Mr. Bernard was +sensible of a strange fascination, not wholly new to him, nor +unprecedented in the history of human experience, but always a revelation +when it comes over us for the first or the hundredth time, so pale is the +most recent memory by the side of the passing moment with the flush of +any new-born passion on its cheek. Remember that Nature makes every man +love all women, and trusts the trivial matter of special choice to the +commonest accident. + +If Mr. Bernard had had nothing to distract his attention, he might have +thought too much about his handsome partner, and then gone home and +dreamed about her, which is always dangerous, and waked up thinking of +her still, and then begun to be deeply interested in her studies, and so +on, through the whole syllogism which ends in Nature's supreme quod erat +demonstrandum. What was there to distract him or disturb him? He did +not know,--but there was something. This sumptuous creature, this Eve +just within the gate of an untried Paradise, untutored in the ways of the +world, but on tiptoe to reach the fruit of the tree of knowledge,--alive +to the moist vitality of that warm atmosphere palpitating with voices and +music, as the flower of some dioecious plant which has grown in a lone +corner and suddenly unfolding its corolla on some hot-breathing June +evening, feels that the air is perfumed with strange odors and loaded +with golden dust wafted from those other blossoms with which its double +life is shared,--this almost over-womanized woman might well have +bewitched him, but that he had a vague sense of a counter-charm. It was, +perhaps, only the same consciousness that some one was looking at him +which he himself had just given occasion to in his partner. Presently, in +one of the turns of the dance, he felt his eyes drawn to a figure he had +not distinctly recognized, though he had dimly felt its presence, and saw +that Elsie Venner was looking at him as if she saw nothing else but him. +He was not a nervous person, like the poor lady-teacher, yet the glitter +of the diamond eyes affected him strangely. It seemed to disenchant the +air, so full a moment before of strange attractions. He became silent, +and dreamy, as it were. The round-limbed beauty at his side crushed her +gauzy draperies against him, as they trod the figure of the dance +together, but it was no more to him than if an old nurse had laid her +hand on his sleeve. The young girl chafed at his seeming neglect, and +her imperious blood mounted into her cheeks; but he appeared unconscious +of it. + +"There is one of our young ladies I must speak to," he said,--and was +just leaving his partner's side. + +"Four hands all round?" shouted the first violin,--and Mr. Bernard found +himself seized and whirled in a circle out of which he could not escape, +and then forced to "cross over," and then to "dozy do," as the maestro +had it,--and when, on getting back to his place, he looked for Elsie +Venner, she was gone. + +The dancing went on briskly. Some of the old folks looked on, others +conversed in groups and pairs, and so the evening wore along, until a +little after ten o'clock. About this time there was noticed an increased +bustle in the passages, with a considerable opening and shutting of +doors. Presently it began to be whispered about that they were going to +have supper. Many, who had never been to any large party before, held +their breath for a moment at this announcement. It was rather with a +tremulous interest than with open hilarity that the rumor was generally +received. + +One point the Colonel had entirely forgotten to settle. It was a point +involving not merely propriety, but perhaps principle also, or at least +the good report of the house,--and he had never thought to arrange it. +He took Judge Thornton aside and whispered the important question to +him,--in his distress of mind, mistaking pockets and taking out his +bandanna instead of his white handkerchief to wipe his forehead. + +"Judge," he said, "do you think, that, before we commence refreshing +ourselves at the tables, it would be the proper thing to--crave a--to +request Deacon Soper or some other elderly person--to ask a blessing?" + +The Judge looked as grave as if he were about giving the opinion of the +Court in the great India-rubber case. + +"On the whole," he answered, after a pause, "I should think it might, +perhaps, be dispensed with on this occasion. Young folks are noisy, and +it is awkward to have talking and laughing going on while blessing is +being asked. Unless a clergyman is present and makes a point of it, I +think it will hardly be expected." + +The Colonel was infinitely relieved. "Judge, will you take Mrs. Sprowle +in to supper?" And the Colonel returned the compliment by offering his +arm to Mrs. Judge Thornton. + +The door of the supper-room was now open, and the company, following the +lead of the host and hostess, began to stream into it, until it was +pretty well filled. + +There was an awful kind of pause. Many were beginning to drop their +heads and shut their eyes, in anticipation of the usual petition before a +meal; some expected the music to strike up,--others, that an oration +would now be delivered by the Colonel. + +"Make yourselves at home, ladies and gentlemen," said the Colonel; "good +things were made to eat, and you're welcome to all you see before you." + +So saying he attacked a huge turkey which stood at the head of the table; +and his example being followed first by the bold, then by the doubtful, +and lastly by the timid, the clatter soon made the circuit of the tables. +Some were shocked, however, as the Colonel had feared they would be, at +the want of the customary invocation. Widow Leech, a kind of relation, +who had to be invited, and who came with her old, back-country-looking +string of gold beads round her neck, seemed to feel very serious about +it. + +"If she'd ha' known that folks would begrutch cravin' a blessin' over +sech a heap o' provisions, she'd rather ha' staid t' home. It was a bad +sign, when folks was n't grateful for the baounties of Providence." + +The elder Miss Spinney, to whom she made this remark, assented to it, at +the same time ogling a piece of frosted cake, which she presently +appropriated with great refinement of manner,--taking it between her +thumb and forefinger, keeping the others well spread and the little +finger in extreme divergence, with a graceful undulation of the neck, and +a queer little sound in her throat, as of an M that wanted to get out and +perished in the attempt. + +The tables now presented an animated spectacle. Young fellows of the +more dashing sort, with high stand-up collars and voluminous bows to +their neckerchiefs, distinguished themselves by cutting up fowls and +offering portions thereof to the buxom girls these knowing ones had +commonly selected. + +"A bit of the wing, Roxy, or of the--under limb?" + +The first laugh broke out at this, but it was premature, a sporadic +laugh, as Dr. Kittredge would have said, which did not become epidemic. +People were very solemn as yet, many of them being new to such splendid +scenes, and crushed, as it were, in the presence of so much crockery and +so many silver spoons, and such a variety of unusual viands and +beverages. When the laugh rose around Roxy and her saucy beau, several +looked in that direction with an anxious expression, as if something had +happened, a lady fainted, for instance, or a couple of lively fellows +come to high words. + +"Young folks will be young folks," said Deacon Soper. "No harm done. +Least said soonest mended." + +"Have some of these shell-oysters?" said the Colonel to Mrs. Trecothick. + +A delicate emphasis on the word shell implied that the Colonel knew what +was what. To the New England inland native, beyond the reach of the east +winds, the oyster unconditioned, the oyster absolute, without a +qualifying adjective, is the pickled oyster. Mrs. Trecothick, who knew +very well that an oyster long out of his shell (as is apt to be the case +with the rural bivalve) gets homesick and loses his sprightliness, +replied, with the pleasantest smile in the world, that the chicken she +had been helped to was too delicate to be given up even for the greater +rarity. But the word "shell-oysters" had been overheard; and there was a +perceptible crowding movement towards their newly discovered habitat, a +large soup-tureen. + +Silas Peckham had meantime fallen upon another locality of these recent +mollusks. He said nothing, but helped himself freely, and made a sign to +Mrs. Peckham. + +"Lorindy," he whispered, "shell-oysters" + +And ladled them out to her largely, without betraying any emotion, just +as if they had been the natural inland or pickled article. + +After the more solid portion of the banquet had been duly honored, the +cakes and sweet preparations of various kinds began to get their share of +attention. There were great cakes and little cakes, cakes with raisins +in them, cakes with currants, and cakes without either; there were brown +cakes and yellow cakes, frosted cakes, glazed cakes, hearts and rounds, +and jumbles, which playful youth slip over the forefinger before spoiling +their annular outline. There were mounds of blo'monje, of the arrowroot +variety,--that being undistinguishable from such as is made with Russia +isinglass. There were jellies, which had been shaking, all the time the +young folks were dancing in the next room, as if they were balancing to +partners. There were built-up fabrics, called Charlottes, caky +externally, pulpy within; there were also marangs, and likewise +custards,--some of the indolent-fluid sort, others firm, in which every +stroke of the teaspoon left a smooth, conchoidal surface like the +fracture of chalcedony, with here and there a little eye like what one +sees in cheeses. Nor was that most wonderful object of domestic art +called trifle wanting, with its charming confusion of cream and cake and +almonds and jam and jelly and wine and cinnamon and froth; nor yet the +marvellous floating-island,--name suggestive of all that is romantic in +the imaginations of youthful palates. + +"It must have cost you a sight of work, to say nothin' of money, to get +all this beautiful confectionery made for the party," said Mrs. Crane to +Mrs. Sprowle. + +"Well, it cost some consid'able labor, no doubt," said Mrs. Sprowle. +"Matilda and our girls and I made 'most all the cake with our own hands, +and we all feel some tired; but if folks get what suits 'em, we don't +begrudge the time nor the work. But I do feel thirsty," said the poor +lady, "and I think a glass of srub would do my throat good; it's dreadful +dry. Mr. Peckham, would you be so polite as to pass me a glass of srub?" + +Silas Peckham bowed with great alacrity, and took from the table a small +glass cup, containing a fluid reddish in hue and subacid in taste. This +was srub, a beverage in local repute, of questionable nature, but +suspected of owing its tint and sharpness to some kind of syrup derived +from the maroon-colored fruit of the sumac. There were similar small +cups on the table filled with lemonade, and here and there a decanter of +Madeira wine, of the Marsala kind, which some prefer to, and many more +cannot distinguish from, that which comes from the Atlantic island. + +"Take a glass of wine, Judge," said, the Colonel; "here is an article +that I rather think 'll suit you." + +The Judge knew something of wines, and could tell all the famous old +Madeiras from each other, "Eclipse," "Juno," the almost fabulously scarce +and precious "White-top," and the rest. He struck the nativity of the +Mediterranean Madeira before it had fairly moistened his lip. + +"A sound wine, Colonel, and I should think of a genuine vintage. Your +very good health." + +"Deacon Soper," said the Colonel, "here is some Madary Judge Thornton +recommends. Let me fill you a glass of it." + +The Deacon's eyes glistened. He was one of those consistent Christians +who stick firmly by the first miracle and Paul's advice to Timothy. + +"A little good wine won't hurt anybody," said the Deacon. "Plenty, +--plenty,--plenty. There!" He had not withdrawn his glass, while the +Colonel was pouring, for fear it should spill, and now it was running +over. + +--It is very odd how all a man's philosophy and theology are at the mercy +of a few drops of a fluid which the chemists say consists of nothing but +C4, O2, H6. The Deacon's theology fell off several points towards +latitudinarianism in the course of the next ten minutes. He had a deep +inward sense that everything was as it should be, human nature included. +The little accidents of humanity, known collectively to moralists as sin, +looked very venial to his growing sense of universal brotherhood and +benevolence. + +"It will all come right," the Deacon said to himself,--"I feel a joyful +conviction that everything is for the best. I am favored with a blessed +peace of mind, and a very precious season of good feelin' toward my +fellow-creturs." + +A lusty young fellow happened to make a quick step backward just at that +instant, and put his heel, with his weight on top of it, upon the +Deacon's toes. + +"Aigh! What the d' d' didos are y' abaout with them great huffs o' +yourn?" said the Deacon, with an expression upon his features not exactly +that of peace and good-will to men. The lusty young fellow apologized; +but the Deacon's face did not come right, and his theology backed round +several points in the direction of total depravity. + +Some of the dashing young men in stand-up collars and extensive neckties, +encouraged by Mr. Geordie, made quite free with the "Ma,dary," and even +induced some of the more stylish girls--not of the mansion-house set, but +of the tip-top two-story families--to taste a little. Most of these +young ladies made faces at it, and declared it was "perfectly horrid," +with that aspect of veracity peculiar to their age and sex. + +About this time a movement was made on the part of some of the +mansion-house people to leave the supper-table. Miss Jane Trecothick had +quietly hinted to her mother that she had had enough of it. Miss +Arabella Thornton had whispered to her father that he had better adjourn +this court to the next room. There were signs of migration,--a +loosening of people in their places,--a looking about for arms to hitch +on to. + +"Stop!" said the Colonel. "There's something coming yet.--Ice-cream!" + +The great folks saw that the play was not over yet, and that it was only +polite to stay and see it out. The word "ice-cream" was no sooner +whispered than it passed from one to another all down the tables. The +effect was what might have been anticipated. Many of the guests had +never seen this celebrated product of human skill, and to all the +two-story population of Rockland it was the last expression of the art of +pleasing and astonishing the human palate. Its appearance had been +deferred for several reasons: first, because everybody would have +attacked it, if it had come in with the other luxuries; secondly, because +undue apprehensions were entertained (owing to want of experience) of its +tendency to deliquesce and resolve itself with alarming rapidity into +puddles of creamy fluid; and, thirdly, because the surprise would make a +grand climax to finish off the banquet. + +There is something so audacious in the conception of ice-cream, that it +is not strange that a population undebauched by the luxury of great +cities looks upon it with a kind of awe and speaks of it with a certain +emotion. This defiance of the seasons, forcing Nature to do her work of +congelation in the face of her sultriest noon, might well inspire a timid +mind with fear lest human art were revolting against the Higher Powers, +and raise the same scruples which resisted the use of ether and +chloroform in certain contingencies. Whatever may be the cause, it is +well known that the announcement at any private rural entertainment that +there is to be ice-cream produces an immediate and profound impression. +It may be remarked, as aiding this impression, that exaggerated ideas are +entertained as to the dangerous effects this congealed food may produce +on persons not in the most robust health. + +There was silence as the pyramids of ice were placed on the table, +everybody looking on in admiration. The Colonel took a knife and +assailed the one at the head of the table. When he tried to cut off a +slice, it didn't seem to understand it, however, and only tipped, as if +it wanted to upset. The Colonel attacked it on the other side, and it +tipped just as badly the other way. It was awkward for the Colonel. +"Permit me," said the Judge,--and he took the knife and struck a sharp +slanting stroke which sliced off a piece just of the right size, and +offered it to Mrs. Sprowle. This act of dexterity was much admired by +the company. + +The tables were all alive again. + +"Lorindy, here's a plate of ice-cream," said Silas Peckham. + +"Come, Mahaly," said a fresh-looking young-fellow with a saucerful in +each hand, "here's your ice-cream;--let's go in the corner and have a +celebration, us two." And the old green de-lame, with the young curves +under it to make it sit well, moved off as pleased apparently as if it +had been silk velvet with thousand-dollar laces over it. + +"Oh, now, Miss Green! do you think it's safe to put that cold stuff into +your stomick?" said the Widow Leech to a young married lady, who, finding +the air rather warm, thought a little ice would cool her down very +nicely. "It's jest like eatin' snowballs. You don't look very rugged; +and I should be dreadful afeard, if I was you." + +"Carrie," said old Dr. Kittredge, who had overheard this,--"how well +you're looking this evening! But you must be tired and heated;--sit down +here, and let me give you a good slice of ice-cream. How you young folks +do grow up, to be sure! I don't feel quite certain whether it's you or +your older sister, but I know it 's somebody I call Carrie, and that I +'ve known ever since." + +A sound something between a howl and an oath startled the company and +broke off the Doctor's sentence. Everybody's eyes turned in the +direction from which it came. A group instantly gathered round the +person who had uttered it, who was no other than Deacon Soper. + +"He's chokin'! he's chokin'!" was the first exclamation,--"slap him on +the back!" + +Several heavy fists beat such a tattoo on his spine that the Deacon felt +as if at least one of his vertebrae would come up. + +"He's black in the face," said Widow Leech, "he 's swallered somethin' +the wrong way. Where's the Doctor?--let the Doctor get to him, can't +ye?" + +"If you will move, my good lady, perhaps I can," said Doctor Kittredge, +in a calm tone of voice. "He's not choking, my friends," the Doctor +added immediately, when he got sight of him. + +"It 's apoplexy,--I told you so,--don't you see how red he is in the +face?" said old Mrs. Peake, a famous woman for "nussin" sick folks, +--determined to be a little ahead of the Doctor. + +"It's not apoplexy," said Dr. Kittredge. + +"What is it, Doctor? what is it? Will he die? Is he dead?--Here's his +poor wife, the Widow Soper that is to be, if she a'n't a'ready" + +"Do be quiet, my good woman," said Dr. Kittredge.--"Nothing serious, I +think, Mrs. Soper. Deacon!" + +The sudden attack of Deacon Soper had begun with the extraordinary sound +mentioned above. His features had immediately assumed an expression of +intense pain, his eyes staring wildly, and, clapping his hands to his +face, he had rocked his head backward and forward in speechless agony. + +At the Doctor's sharp appeal the Deacon lifted his head. + +"It's all right," said the Doctor, as soon as he saw his face. "The +Deacon had a smart attack of neuralgic pain. That 's all. Very severe, +but not at all dangerous." + +The Doctor kept his countenance, but his diaphragm was shaking the change +in iris waistcoat-pockets with subterranean laughter. He had looked +through his spectacles and seen at once what had happened. The Deacon, +not being in the habit of taking his nourishment in the congealed state, +had treated the ice-cream as a pudding of a rare species, and, to make +sure of doing himself justice in its distribution, had taken a large +mouthful of it without the least precaution. The consequence was a +sensation as if a dentist were killing the nerves of twenty-five teeth at +once with hot irons, or cold ones, which would hurt rather worse. + +The Deacon swallowed something with a spasmodic effort, and recovered +pretty soon and received the congratulations of his friends. There were +different versions of the expressions he had used at the onset of his +complaint,--some of the reported exclamations involving a breach of +propriety, to say the least,--but it was agreed that a man in an attack +of neuralgy wasn't to be judged of by the rules that applied to other +folks. + +The company soon after this retired from the supper-room. The +mansion-house gentry took their leave, and the two-story people soon +followed. Mr. Bernard had stayed an hour or two, and left soon after he +found that Elsie Venner and her father had disappeared. As he passed by +the dormitory of the Institute, he saw a light glimmering from one of its +upper rooms, where the lady-teacher was still waking. His heart ached, +when he remembered, that, through all these hours of gayety, or what was +meant for it, the patient girl had been at work in her little chamber; +and he looked up at the silent stars, as if to see that they were +watching over her. The planet Mars was burning like a red coal; the +northern constellation was slanting downward about its central point of +flame; and while he looked, a falling star slid from the zenith and was +lost. + +He reached his chamber and was soon dreaming over the Event of the +Season. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE MORNING AFTER. + +Colonel Sprowle's family arose late the next morning. The fatigues and +excitements of the evening and the preparation for it were followed by a +natural collapse, of which somnolence was a leading symptom. The sun +shone into the window at a pretty well opened angle when the Colonel +first found himself sufficiently awake to address his yet slumbering +spouse. + +"Sally!" said the Colonel, in a voice that was a little husky,--for he +had finished off the evening with an extra glass or two of "Madary," and +had a somewhat rusty and headachy sense of renewed existence, on greeting +the rather advanced dawn,--"Sally!" + +"Take care o' them custard-cups! There they go!" + +Poor Mrs. Sprowle was fighting the party over in her dream; and as the +visionary custard-cups crashed down through one lobe of her brain into +another, she gave a start as if an inch of lightning from a quart Leyden +jar had jumped into one of her knuckles with its sudden and lively poonk! + +"Sally!" said the Colonel,--"wake up, wake up. What 'r' y' dreamin' +abaout?" + +Mrs. Sprowle raised herself, by a sort of spasm, sur son seant, as they +say in France,--up on end, as we have it in New England. She looked +first to the left, then to the right, then straight before her, +apparently without seeing anything, and at last slowly settled down, with +her two eyes, blank of any particular meaning, directed upon the Colonel. + +"What time is 't?" she said. + +"Ten o'clock. What y' been dreamin' abaout? Y' giv a jump like a +hopper-grass. Wake up, wake UP! Th' party 's over, and y' been asleep +all the mornin'. The party's over, I tell ye! Wake up!" + +"Over!" said Mrs. Sprowle, who began to define her position at +last,--"over! I should think 't was time 't was over! It's lasted a +hundud year. I've been workin' for that party longer 'n Methuselah's +lifetime, sence I been asleep. The pies would n' bake, and the blo'monje +would n' set, and the ice-cream would n' freeze, and all the folks kep' +comin' 'n' comin' 'n' comin',--everybody I ever knew in all my +life,--some of 'em 's been dead this twenty year 'n' more,--'n' nothin' +for 'em to eat nor drink. The fire would n' burn to cook anything, all +we could do. We blowed with the belluses, 'n' we stuffed in paper 'n' +pitch-pine kindlin's, but nothin' could make that fire burn; 'n' all the +time the folks kep' comin', as if they'd never stop,--'n' nothin' for 'em +but empty dishes, 'n' all the borrowed chaney slippin' round on the +waiters 'n' chippin' 'n' crackin',--I would n' go through what I been +through t'-night for all th' money in th' Bank,--I do believe it's harder +t' have a party than t'"-- + +Mrs. Sprowle stated the case strongly. + +The Colonel said he did n't know how that might be. She was a better +judge than he was. It was bother enough, anyhow, and he was glad that it +was over. After this, the worthy pair commenced preparations for +rejoining the waking world, and in due time proceeded downstairs. + +Everybody was late that morning, and nothing had got put to rights. The +house looked as if a small army had been quartered in it over night. The +tables were of course in huge disorder, after the protracted assault they +had undergone. There had been a great battle evidently, and it had gone +against the provisions. Some points had been stormed, and all their +defences annihilated, but here and there were centres of resistance which +had held out against all attacks,--large rounds of beef, and solid +loaves of cake, against which the inexperienced had wasted their energies +in the enthusiasm of youth or uninformed maturity, while the +longer-headed guests were making discoveries of "shell-oysters" and +"patridges" and similar delicacies. + +The breakfast was naturally of a somewhat fragmentary character. A +chicken that had lost his legs in the service of the preceding campaign +was once more put on duty. A great ham stuck with cloves, as Saint +Sebastian was with arrows, was again offered for martyrdom. It would have +been a pleasant sight for a medical man of a speculative turn to have +seen the prospect before the Colonel's family of the next week's +breakfasts, dinners, and suppers. The trail that one of these great +rural parties leaves after it is one of its most formidable +considerations. Every door-handle in the house is suggestive of +sweetmeats for the next week, at least. The most unnatural articles of +diet displace the frugal but nutritious food of unconvulsed periods of +existence. If there is a walking infant about the house, it will +certainly have a more or less fatal fit from overmuch of some +indigestible delicacy. Before the week is out, everybody will be tired +to death of sugary forms of nourishment and long to see the last of the +remnants of the festival. + +The family had not yet arrived at this condition. On the contrary, the +first inspection of the tables suggested the prospect of days of +unstinted luxury; and the younger portion of the household, especially, +were in a state of great excitement as the account of stock was taken +with reference to future internal investments. Some curious facts came +to light during these researches. + +"Where's all the oranges gone to?" said Mrs. Sprowle. "I expected +there'd be ever so many of 'em left. I did n't see many of the folks +eatin' oranges. Where's the skins of 'em? There ought to be six dozen +orange-skins round on the plates, and there a'n't one dozen. And all the +small cakes, too, and all the sugar things that was stuck on the big +cakes. Has anybody counted the spoons? Some of 'em got swallered, +perhaps. I hope they was plated ones, if they did!" + +The failure of the morning's orange-crop and the deficit in other +expected residual delicacies were not very difficult to account for. In +many of the two-story Rockland families, and in those favored households +of the neighboring villages whose members had been invited to the great +party, there was a very general excitement among the younger people on +the morning after the great event. "Did y' bring home somethin' from the +party? What is it? What is it? Is it frut-cake? Is it nuts and +oranges and apples? Give me some! Give me some!" Such a concert of +treble voices uttering accents like these had not been heard since the +great Temperance Festival with the celebrated "colation" in the open air +under the trees of the Parnassian Grove,--as the place was christened by +the young ladies of the Institute. The cry of the children was not in +vain. From the pockets of demure fathers, from the bags of sharp-eyed +spinsters, from the folded handkerchiefs of light-fingered sisters, from +the tall hats of sly-winking brothers, there was a resurrection of the +missing oranges and cakes and sugar-things in many a rejoicing +family-circle, enough to astonish the most hardened "caterer" that ever +contracted to feed a thousand people under canvas. + +The tender recollections of those dear little ones whom extreme youth or +other pressing considerations detain from scenes of festivity--a trait of +affection by no means uncommon among our thoughtful people--dignifies +those social meetings where it is manifested, and sheds a ray of sunshine +on our common nature. It is "an oasis in the desert,"--to use the +striking expression of the last year's "Valedictorian" of the Apollinean +Institute. In the midst of so much that is purely selfish, it is +delightful to meet such disinterested care for others. When a large +family of children are expecting a parent's return from an entertainment, +it will often require great exertions on his part to freight himself so +as to meet their reasonable expectations. A few rules are worth +remembering by all who attend anniversary dinners in Faneuil Hall or +elsewhere. Thus: Lobsters' claws are always acceptable to children of +all ages. Oranges and apples are to be taken one at a time, until the +coat-pockets begin to become inconveniently heavy. Cakes are injured by +sitting upon them; it is, therefore, well to carry a stout tin box of a +size to hold as many pieces as there are children in the domestic circle. +A very pleasant amusement, at the close of one of these banquets, is +grabbing for the flowers with which the table is embellished. These will +please the ladies at home very greatly, and, if the children are at the +same time abundantly supplied with fruits, nuts, cakes, and any little +ornamental articles of confectionery which are of a nature to be +unostentatiously removed, the kind-hearted parent will make a whole +household happy, without any additional expense beyond the outlay for his +ticket. + +There were fragmentary delicacies enough left, of one kind and another, +at any rate, to make all the Colonel's family uncomfortable for the next +week. It bid fair to take as long to get rid of the remains of the great +party as it had taken to make ready for it. + +In the mean time Mr. Bernard had been dreaming, as young men dream, of +gliding shapes with bright eyes and burning cheeks, strangely blended +with red planets and hissing meteors, and, shining over all, the white, +un-wandering star of the North, girt with its tethered constellations. + +After breakfast he walked into the parlor, where he found Miss Darley. +She was alone, and, holding a school-book in her hand, was at work with +one of the morning's lessons. She hardly noticed him as he entered, +being very busy with her book,--and he paused a moment before speaking, +and looked at her with a kind of reverence. It would not have been +strictly true to call her beautiful. For years,--since her earliest +womanhood,--those slender hands had taken the bread which repaid the toil +of heart and brain from the coarse palms which offered it in the world's +rude market. It was not for herself alone that she had bartered away the +life of her youth, that she had breathed the hot air of schoolrooms, that +she had forced her intelligence to posture before her will, as the +exigencies of her place required,--waking to mental labor,--sleeping to +dream of problems,--rolling up the stone of education for an endless +twelvemonth's term, to find it at the bottom of the hill again when +another year called her to its renewed duties, schooling her temper in +unending inward and outward conflicts, until neither dulness nor +obstinacy nor ingratitude nor insolence could reach her serene +self-possession. Not for herself alone. Poorly as her prodigal labors +were repaid in proportion to the waste of life they cost, her value was +too well established to leave her without what, under other +circumstances, would have been a more than sufficient compensation. But +there were others who looked to her in their need, and so the modest +fountain which might have been filled to its brim was continually drained +through silent-flowing, hidden sluices. + +Out of such a life, inherited from a race which had lived in conditions +not unlike her own, beauty, in the common sense of the term, could hardly +find leisure to develop and shape itself. For it must be remembered, +that symmetry and elegance of features and figure, like perfectly formed +crystals in the mineral world, are reached only by insuring a certain +necessary repose to individuals and to generations. Human beauty is an +agricultural product in the country, growing up in men and women as in +corn and cattle, where the soil is good. It is a luxury almost +monopolized by the rich in cities, bred under glass like their forced +pine-apples and peaches. Both in city and country, the evolution of the +physical harmonies which make music to our eyes requires a combination of +favorable circumstances, of which alternations of unburdened tranquillity +with intervals of varied excitement of mind and body are among the most +important. Where sufficient excitement is wanting, as often happens in +the country, the features, however rich in red and white, get heavy, and +the movements sluggish; where excitement is furnished in excess, as is +frequently the case in cities, the contours and colors are impoverished, +and the nerves begin to make their existence known to the consciousness, +as the face very soon informs us. + +Helen Darley could not, in the nature of things, have possessed the kind +of beauty which pleases the common taste. Her eye was calm, sad-looking, +her features very still, except when her pleasant smile changed them for +a moment, all her outlines were delicate, her voice was very gentle, but +somewhat subdued by years of thoughtful labor, and on her smooth forehead +one little hinted line whispered already that Care was beginning to mark +the trace which Time sooner or later would make a furrow. She could not +be a beauty; if she had been, it would have been much harder for many +persons to be interested in her. For, although in the abstract we all +love beauty, and although, if we were sent naked souls into some +ultramundane warehouse of soulless bodies and told to select one to our +liking, we should each choose a handsome one, and never think of the +consequences,--it is quite certain that beauty carries an atmosphere of +repulsion as well as of attraction with it, alike in both sexes. We may +be well assured that there are many persons who no more think of +specializing their love of the other sex upon one endowed with signal +beauty, than they think of wanting great diamonds or thousand-dollar +horses. No man or woman can appropriate beauty without paying for +it,--in endowments, in fortune, in position, in self-surrender, or other +valuable stock; and there are a great many who are too poor, too +ordinary, too humble, too busy, too proud, to pay any of these prices for +it. So the unbeautiful get many more lovers than the beauties; only, as +there are more of them, their lovers are spread thinner and do not make +so much show. + +The young master stood looking at Helen Darley with a kind of tender +admiration. She was such a picture of the martyr by the slow social +combustive process, that it almost seemed to him he could see a pale +lambent nimbus round her head. + +"I did not see you at the great party last evening," he said, presently. + +She looked up and answered, "No. I have not much taste for such large +companies. Besides, I do not feel as if my time belonged to me after it +has been paid for. There is always something to do, some lesson or +exercise,--and it so happened, I was very busy last night with the new +problems in geometry. I hope you had a good time." + +"Very. Two or three of our girls were there. Rosa Milburn. What a +beauty she is! I wonder what she feeds on! Wine and musk and chloroform +and coals of fire, I believe; I didn't think there was such color and +flavor in a woman outside the tropics." + +Miss Darley smiled rather faintly; the imagery was not just to her taste: +femineity often finds it very hard to accept the fact of muliebrity. + +"Was"--? + +She stopped short; but her question had asked itself. + +"Elsie there? She was, for an hour or so. She looked frightfully +handsome. I meant to have spoken to her, but she slipped away before I +knew it." + +"I thought she meant to go to the party," said Miss Darley. "Did she +look at you?" + +"She did. Why?" + +"And you did not speak to her?" + +"No. I should have spoken to her, but she was gone when I looked for +her. A strange creature! Is n't there an odd sort of fascination about +her? You have not explained all the mystery about the girl. What does +she come to this school for? She seems to do pretty much as she likes +about studying." + +Miss Darley answered in very low tones. "It was a fancy of hers to come, +and they let her have her way. I don't know what there is about her, +except that she seems to take my life out of me when she looks at me. I +don't like to ask other people about our girls. She says very little to +anybody, and studies, or makes believe to study, almost what she likes. +I don't know what she is," (Miss Darley laid her hand, trembling, on the +young master's sleeve,) "but I can tell when she is in the room without +seeing or hearing her. Oh, Mr. Langdon, I am weak and nervous, and no +doubt foolish,--but--if there were women now, as in the days of our +Saviour, possessed of devils, I should think there was something not +human looking out of Elsie Venner's eyes!" + +The poor girl's breast rose and fell tumultuously as she spoke, and her +voice labored, as if some obstruction were rising in her throat. + +A scene might possibly have come of it, but the door opened. Mr. Silas +Peckham. Miss Darley got away as soon as she well could. + +"Why did not Miss Darley go to the party last evening?" said Mr. Bernard. + +"Well, the fact is," answered Mr. Silas Peckham, "Miss Darley, she's +pooty much took up with the school. She's an industris young. +woman,--yis, she is industris,--but perhaps she a'n't quite so spry a +worker as some. Maybe, considerin' she's paid for her time, she is n't +fur out o' the way in occoopyin' herself evenin's,--that--is, if so be +she a'n't smart enough to finish up all her work in the daytime. +Edoocation is the great business of the Institoot. Amoosements are +objec's of a secondary natur', accordin' to my v'oo." [The unspellable +pronunciation of this word is the touchstone of New England Brahminism.] + +Mr. Bernard drew a deep breath, his thin nostrils dilating, as if the air +did not rush in fast enough to cool his blood, while Silas Peckham was +speaking. The Head of the Apollinean Institute delivered himself of +these judicious sentiments in that peculiar acid, penetrating tone, +thickened with a nasal twang, which not rarely becomes hereditary after +three or four generations raised upon east winds, salt fish, and large, +white-bellied, pickled cucumbers. He spoke deliberately, as if weighing +his words well, so that, during his few remarks, Mr. Bernard had time for +a mental accompaniment with variations, accented by certain bodily +changes, which escaped Mr. Peckham's observation. First there was a +feeling of disgust and shame at hearing Helen Darley spoken of like a +dumb working animal. That sent the blood up into his cheeks. Then the +slur upon her probable want of force--her incapacity, who made the +character of the school and left this man to pocket its profits--sent a +thrill of the old Wentworth fire through him, so that his muscles +hardened, his hands closed, and he took the measure of Mr. Silas Peckham, +to see if his head would strike the wall in case he went over backwards +all of a sudden. This would not do, of course, and so the thrill passed +off and the muscles softened again. Then came that state of tenderness +in the heart, overlying wrath in the stomach, in which the eyes grow +moist like a woman's, and there is also a great boiling-up of +objectionable terms out of the deep-water vocabulary, so that Prudence +and Propriety and all the other pious P's have to jump upon the lid of +speech to keep them from boiling over into fierce articulation. All this +was internal, chiefly, and of course not recognized by Mr. Silas Peckham. +The idea, that any full-grown, sensible man should have any other notion +than that of getting the most work for the least money out of his +assistants, had never suggested itself to him. + +Mr. Bernard had gone through this paroxysm, and cooled down, in the +period while Mr. Peckham was uttering these words in his thin, shallow +whine, twanging up into the frontal sinuses. What was the use of losing +his temper and throwing away his place, and so, among the consequences +which would necessarily follow, leaving the poor lady-teacher without a +friend to stand by her ready to lay his hand on the grand-inquisitor +before the windlass of his rack had taken one turn too many? + +"No doubt, Mr. Peckham," he said, in a grave, calm voice, "there is a +great deal of work to be done in the school; but perhaps we can +distribute the duties a little more evenly after a time. I shall look +over the girls' themes myself, after this week. Perhaps there will be +some other parts of her labor that I can take on myself. We can arrange +a new programme of studies and recitations." + +"We can do that," said Mr. Silas Peckham. "But I don't propose mater'lly +alterin' Miss Darley's dooties. I don't think she works to hurt herself. +Some of the Trustees have proposed interdoosin' new branches of study, +and I expect you will be pooty much occoopied with the dooties that +belong to your place. On the Sahbath you will be able to attend divine +service three times, which is expected of our teachers. I shall continoo +myself to give Sahbath Scriptur' readin's to the young ladies. That is a +solemn dooty I can't make up my mind to commit to other people. My +teachers enjoy the Lord's day as a day of rest. In it they do no manner +of work, except in cases of necessity or mercy, such as fillin' out +diplomas, or when we git crowded jest at the end of a term, or when there +is an extry number of p'oopils, or other Providential call to dispense +with the ordinance." + +Mr. Bernard had a fine glow in his cheeks by this time,--doubtless +kindled by the thought of the kind consideration Mr. Peckham showed for +his subordinates in allowing them the between meeting-time on Sundays +except for some special reason. But the morning was wearing away; so he +went to the schoolroom, taking leave very properly of his respected +principal, who soon took his hat and departed. + +Mr. Peckham visited certain "stores" or shops, where he made inquiries +after various articles in the provision-line, and effected a purchase or +two. Two or three barrels of potatoes, which had sprouted in a promising +way, he secured at a bargain. A side of feminine beef was also obtained +at a low figure. He was entirely satisfied with a couple of barrels of +flour, which, being invoiced "slightly damaged," were to be had at a +reasonable price. + +After this, Silas Peckham felt in good spirits. He had done a pretty +stroke of business. It came into his head whether he might not follow it +up with a still more brilliant speculation. So he turned his steps in +the direction of Colonel Sprowle's. + +It was now eleven o'clock, and the battle-field of last evening was as we +left it. Mr. Peckham's visit was unexpected, perhaps not very well +timed, but the Colonel received him civilly. + +"Beautifully lighted,--these rooms last night!" said Mr. Peckham. +"Winter-strained?" + +The Colonel nodded. + +"How much do you pay for your winter-strained?" + +The Colonel told him the price. + +"Very hahnsome supper,--very hahnsome. Nothin' ever seen like it in +Rockland. Must have been a great heap of things leftover." + +The compliment was not ungrateful, and the Colonel acknowledged it by +smiling and saying, "I should think the' was a trifle? Come and look." + +When Silas Peckham saw how many delicacies had survived the evening's +conflict, his commercial spirit rose at once to the point of a proposal. + +"Colonel Sprowle," said he, "there's 'meat and cakes and pies and pickles +enough on that table to spread a hahnsome colation. If you'd like to +trade reasonable, I think perhaps I should be willin' to take 'em off +your hands. There's been a talk about our havin' a celebration in the +Parnassian Grove, and I think I could work in what your folks don't want +and make myself whole by chargin' a small sum for tickets. Broken meats, +of course, a'n't of the same valoo as fresh provisions; so I think you +might be willin' to trade reasonable." + +Mr. Peckham paused and rested on his proposal. It would not, perhaps, +have been very extraordinary, if Colonel Sprowle had entertained the +proposition. There is no telling beforehand how such things will strike +people. It didn't happen to strike the Colonel favorably. He had a +little red-blooded manhood in him. + +"Sell you them things to make a colation out of?" the Colonel replied. +"Walk up to that table, Mr. Peckham, and help yourself! Fill your +pockets; Mr. Peckham! Fetch a basket, and our hired folks shall fill it +full for ye! Send a cart, if y' like, 'n' carry off them leavin's to +make a celebration for your pupils with! Only let me tell ye this:--as +sure 's my name's Hezekiah Spraowle, you 'll be known through the taown +'n' through the caounty, from that day forrard, as the Principal of the +Broken-Victuals Institoot!" + +Even provincial human-nature sometimes has a touch of sublimity about it. +Mr. Silas Peckham had gone a little deeper than he meant, and come upon +the "hard pan," as the well-diggers call it, of the Colonel's character, +before he thought of it. A militia-colonel standing on his sentiments is +not to be despised. That was shown pretty well in New England two or +three generations ago. There were a good many plain officers that talked +about their "rigiment" and their "caounty" who knew very well how to say +"Make ready!" "Take aim!" "Fire!"--in the face of a line of grenadiers +with bullets in their guns and bayonets on them. And though a rustic +uniform is not always unexceptionable in its cut and trimmings, yet there +was many an ill-made coat in those old times that was good enough to be +shown to the enemy's front rank too often to be left on the field with a +round hole in its left lapel that matched another going right through the +brave heart of the plain country captain or major or colonel who was +buried in it under the crimson turf. + +Mr. Silas Peckham said little or nothing. His sensibilities were not +acute, but he perceived that he had made a miscalculation. He hoped that +there was no offence,--thought it might have been mutooally agreeable, +conclooded he would give up the idee of a colation, and backed himself +out as if unwilling to expose the less guarded aspect of his person to +the risk of accelerating impulses. + +The Colonel shut the door,--cast his eye on the toe of his right boot, as +if it had had a strong temptation,--looked at his watch, then round the +room, and, going to a cupboard, swallowed a glass of deep-red brandy and +water to compose his feelings. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE DOCTOR ORDERS THE BEST SULKY. (With a Digression on "Hired Help.") + +"ABEL! Slip Cassia into the new sulky, and fetch her round." + +Abel was Dr. Kittredge's hired man. He was born in New Hampshire, a +queer sort of State, with fat streaks of soil and population where they +breed giants in mind and body, and lean streaks which export imperfectly +nourished young men with promising but neglected appetites, who may be +found in great numbers in all the large towns, or could be until of late +years, when they have been half driven out of their favorite +basement-stories by foreigners, and half coaxed away from them by +California. New Hampshire is in more than one sense the Switzerland of +New England. The "Granite State" being naturally enough deficient in +pudding-stone, its children are apt to wander southward in search of that +deposit,--in the unpetrified condition. + +Abel Stebbins was a good specimen of that extraordinary hybrid or mule +between democracy and chrysocracy, a native-born New-England serving-man. +The Old World has nothing at all like him. He is at once an emperor and +a subordinate. In one hand he holds one five-millionth part (be the same +more or less) of the power that sways the destinies of the Great +Republic. His other hand is in your boot, which he is about to polish. +It is impossible to turn a fellow citizen whose vote may make his +master--say, rather, employer--Governor or President, or who may be one +or both himself, into a flunky. That article must be imported ready-made +from other centres of civilization. When a New Englander has lost his +self-respect as a citizen and as a man, he is demoralized, and cannot be +trusted with the money to pay for a dinner. + +It may be supposed, therefore, that this fractional emperor, this +continent-shaper, finds his position awkward when he goes into service, +and that his employer is apt to find it still more embarrassing. It is +always under protest that the hired man does his duty. Every act of +service is subject to the drawback, "I am as good as you are." This is +so common, at least, as almost to be the rule, and partly accounts for +the rapid disappearance of the indigenous "domestic" from the basements +above mentioned. Paleontologists will by and by be examining the floors +of our kitchens for tracks of the extinct native species of serving-man. +The female of the same race is fast dying out; indeed, the time is not +far distant when all the varieties of young woman will have vanished from +New England, as the dodo has perished in the Mauritius. The young lady +is all that we shall have left, and the mop and duster of the last Ahnira +or Loizy will be stared at by generations of Bridgets and Noras as that +famous head and foot of the lost bird are stared at in the Ashmolean +Museum. + +Abel Stebbins, the Doctor's man, took the true American view of his +difficult position. He sold his time to the Doctor, and, having sold it, +he took care to fulfil his half of the bargain. The Doctor, on his part, +treated him, not like a gentleman, because one does not order a gentleman +to bring up his horse or run his errands, but he treated him like a man. +Every order was given in courteous terms. His reasonable privileges were +respected as much as if they had been guaranteed under hand and seal. +The Doctor lent him books from his own library, and gave him all friendly +counsel, as if he were a son or a younger brother. + +Abel had Revolutionary blood in his veins, and though he saw fit to "hire +out," he could never stand the word "servant," or consider himself the +inferior one of the two high contracting parties. When he came to live +with the Doctor, he made up his mind he would dismiss the old gentleman, +if he did not behave according to his notions of propriety. But he soon +found that the Doctor was one of the right sort, and so determined to +keep him. The Doctor soon found, on his side, that he had a trustworthy, +intelligent fellow, who would be invaluable to him, if he only let him +have his own way of doing what was to be done. + +The Doctor's hired man had not the manners of a French valet. He was +grave and taciturn for the most part, he never bowed and rarely smiled, +but was always at work in the daytime, and always reading in the evening. +He was hostler, and did all the housework that a man could properly do, +would go to the door or "tend table," bought the provisions for the +family,--in short, did almost everything for them but get their clothing. +There was no office in a perfectly appointed household, from that of +steward down to that of stable-boy, which he did not cheerfully assume. +His round of work not consuming all his energies, he must needs cultivate +the Doctor's garden, which he kept in one perpetual bloom, from the +blowing of the first crocus to the fading of the last dahlia. + +This garden was Abel's poem. Its half-dozen beds were so many cantos. +Nature crowded them for him with imagery such as no Laureate could copy +in the cold mosaic of language. The rhythm of alternating dawn and +sunset, the strophe and antistrophe still perceptible through all the +sudden shifts of our dithyrambic seasons and echoed in corresponding +floral harmonies, made melody in the soul of Abel, the plain serving-man. +It softened his whole otherwise rigid aspect. He worshipped God according +to the strict way of his fathers; but a florist's Puritanism is always +colored by the petals of his flowers,--and Nature never shows him a +black corolla. + +He may or may not figure again in this narrative; but as there must be +some who confound the New England hired man, native-born, with the +servant of foreign birth, and as there is the difference of two +continents and two civilizations between them, it did not seem fair to +let Abel bring round the Doctor's mare and sulky without touching his +features in half-shadow into our background. + +The Doctor's mare, Cassia, was so called by her master from her cinnamon +color, cassia being one of the professional names for that spice or drug. +She was of the shade we call sorrel, or, as an Englishman would perhaps +say, chestnut,--a genuine "Morgan" mare, with a low forehand, as is +common in this breed, but with strong quarters and flat hocks, well +ribbed up, with a good eye and a pair of lively ears,--a first-rate +doctor's beast, would stand until her harness dropped off her back at the +door of a tedious case, and trot over hill and dale thirty miles in three +hours, if there was a child in the next county with a bean in its +windpipe and the Doctor gave her a hint of the fact. Cassia was not +large, but she had a good deal of action, and was the Doctor's +show-horse. There were two other animals in his stable: Quassia or +Quashy, the black horse, and Caustic, the old bay, with whom he jogged +round the village. + +"A long ride to-day?" said Abel, as he brought up the equipage. + +"Just out of the village,--that 's all.--There 's a kink in her +mane,--pull it out, will you?" + +"Goin' to visit some of the great folks," Abel said to himself. "Wonder +who it is."--Then to the Doctor,--"Anybody get sick at Sprowles's? They +say Deacon Soper had a fit, after eatin' some o' their frozen victuals." + +The Doctor smiled. He guessed the Deacon would do well enough. He was +only going to ride over to the Dudley mansion-house. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE DOCTOR CALLS ON ELSIE VENNER. + +If that primitive physician, Chiron, M. D., appears as a Centaur, as we +look at him through the lapse of thirty centuries, the modern +country-doctor, if he could be seen about thirty miles off, could not be +distinguished from a wheel-animalcule. He inhabits a wheel-carriage. He +thinks of stationary dwellings as Long Tom Coffin did of land in general; +a house may be well enough for incidental purposes, but for a "stiddy" +residence give him a "kerridge." If he is classified in the Linnaean +scale, he must be set down thus: Genus Homo; Species Rotifer infusorius, +the wheel-animal of infusions. + +The Dudley mansion was not a mile from the Doctor's; but it never +occurred to him to think of walking to see any of his patients' families, +if he had any professional object in his visit. Whenever the narrow +sulky turned in at a gate, the rustic who was digging potatoes, or hoeing +corn, or swishing through the grass with his scythe, in wave-like +crescents, or stepping short behind a loaded wheelbarrow, or trudging +lazily by the side of the swinging, loose-throated, short-legged oxen, +rocking along the road as if they had just been landed after a +three-months' voyage, the toiling native, whatever he was doing, stopped +and looked up at the house the Doctor was visiting. + +"Somebody sick over there t' Haynes's. Guess th' old man's ailin' ag'in. +Winder's half-way open in the chamber,--should n' wonder 'f he was dead +and laid aout. Docterin' a'n't no use, when y' see th' winders open like +that. Wahl, money a'n't much to speak of to th' old man naow! He don' +want but tew cents,--'n' old Widah Peake, she knows what he wants them +for!" + +Or again,-- + +"Measles raound pooty thick. Briggs's folks buried two children with 'em +lass' week. Th' of Doctor, he'd h' ker'd 'em threugh. Struck in 'n' +p'dooced mo't'f'cation,--so they say." + +This is only meant as a sample of the kind of way they used to think or +talk, when the narrow sulky turned in at the gate of some house where +there was a visit to be made. + +Oh, that narrow sulky! What hopes, what fears, what comfort, what +anguish, what despair, in the roll of its coming or its parting wheels! +In the spring, when the old people get the coughs which give them a few +shakes and their lives drop in pieces like the ashes of a burned thread +which have kept the threadlike shape until they were stirred,--in the hot +summer noons, when the strong man comes in from the fields, like the son +of the Shunamite, crying, "My head, my head,"--in the dying autumn days, +when youth and maiden lie fever-stricken in many a household, +still-faced, dull-eyed, dark-flushed, dry-lipped, low-muttering in their +daylight dreams, their fingers moving singly like those of slumbering +harpers,--in the dead winter, when the white plague of the North has +caged its wasted victims, shuddering as they think of the frozen soil +which must be quarried like rock to receive them, if their perpetual +convalescence should happen to be interfered with by any untoward +accident,--at every season, the narrow sulky rolled round freighted with +unmeasured burdens of joy and woe. + +The Doctor drove along the southern foot of The Mountain. The "Dudley +Mansion" was near the eastern edge of this declivity, where it rose +steepest, with baldest cliffs and densest patches of overhanging wood. +It seemed almost too steep to climb, but a practised eye could see from a +distance the zigzag lines of the sheep-paths which scaled it like +miniature Alpine roads. A few hundred feet up The Mountain's side was a +dark deep dell, unwooded, save for a few spindling, crazy-looking +hackmatacks or native larches, with pallid green tufts sticking out +fantastically all over them. It shelved so deeply, that, while the +hemlock-tassels were swinging on the trees around its border, all would +be still at its springy bottom, save that perhaps a single fern would +wave slowly backward and forward like a sabre with a twist as of a +feathered oar,--and this when not a breath could be felt, and every other +stem and blade were motionless. There was an old story of one having +perished here in the winter of '86, and his body having been found in the +spring,--whence its common name of "Dead-Man's Hollow." Higher up there +were huge cliffs with chasms, and, it was thought, concealed caves, where +in old times they said that Tories lay hid,--some hinted not without +occasional aid and comfort from the Dudleys then living in the +mansion-house. Still higher and farther west lay the accursed +ledge,--shunned by all, unless it were now and then a daring youth, or a +wandering naturalist who ventured to its edge in the hope of securing +some infantile Crotalus durissus, who had not yet cut his poison teeth. + +Long, long ago, in old Colonial times, the Honorable Thomas Dudley, +Esquire, a man of note and name and great resources, allied by descent to +the family of "Tom Dudley," as the early Governor is sometimes +irreverently called by our most venerable, but still youthful +antiquary,--and to the other public Dudleys, of course,--of all of whom +he made small account, as being himself an English gentleman, with little +taste for the splendors of provincial office, early in the last century, +Thomas Dudley had built this mansion. For several generations it had +been dwelt in by descendants of the same name, but soon after the +Revolution it passed by marriage into the hands of the Venners, by whom +it had ever since been held and tenanted. + +As the doctor turned an angle in the road, all at once the stately old +house rose before him. It was a skilfully managed effect, as it well +might be, for it was no vulgar English architect who had planned the +mansion and arranged its position and approach. The old house rose +before the Doctor, crowning a terraced garden, flanked at the left by an +avenue of tall elms. The flower-beds were edged with box, which diffused +around it that dreamy balsamic odor, full of ante-natal reminiscences of +a lost Paradise, dimly fragrant as might be the bdellium of ancient +Havilah, the land compassed by the river Pison that went out of Eden. +The garden was somewhat neglected, but not in disgrace,--and in the time +of tulips and hyacinths, of roses, of "snowballs," of honeysuckles, of +lilacs, of syringas, it was rich with blossoms. + +From the front-windows of the mansion the eye reached a far blue +mountain-summit,--no rounded heap, such as often shuts in a +village-landscape, but a sharp peak, clean-angled as Ascutney from the +Dartmouth green. A wide gap through miles of woods had opened this +distant view, and showed more, perhaps, than all the labors of the +architect and the landscape-gardener the large style of the early +Dudleys. + +The great stone-chimney of the mansion-house was the centre from which +all the artificial features of the scene appeared to flow. The roofs, +the gables, the dormer-windows, the porches, the clustered offices in the +rear, all seemed to crowd about the great chimney. To this central +pillar the paths all converged. The single poplar behind the +house,--Nature is jealous of proud chimneys, and always loves to put a +poplar near one, so that it may fling a leaf or two down its black throat +every autumn,--the one tall poplar behind the house seemed to nod and +whisper to the grave square column, the elms to sway their branches +towards it. And when the blue smoke rose from its summit, it seemed to +be wafted away to join the azure haze which hung around the peak in the +far distance, so that both should bathe in a common atmosphere. + +Behind the house were clumps of lilacs with a century's growth upon them, +and looking more like trees than like shrubs. Shaded by a group of these +was the ancient well, of huge circuit, and with a low arch opening out of +its wall about ten feet below the surface,--whether the door of a crypt +for the concealment of treasure, or of a subterranean passage, or merely +of a vault for keeping provisions cool in hot weather, opinions differed. + +On looking at the house, it was plain that it was built with Old-World +notions of strength and durability, and, so far as might be, with +Old-World materials. The hinges of the doors stretched out like arms, +instead of like hands, as we make them. The bolts were massive enough +for a donjon-keep. The small window-panes were actually inclosed in the +wood of the sashes instead of being stuck to them with putty, as in our +modern windows. The broad staircase was of easy ascent, and was guarded +by quaintly turned and twisted balusters. The ceilings of the two rooms +of state were moulded with medallion-portraits and rustic figures, such +as may have been seen by many readers in the famous old Philipse +house,--Washington's head-quarters,--in the town of Yorkers. The +fire-places, worthy of the wide-throated central chimney, were bordered +by pictured tiles, some of them with Scripture stories, some with +Watteau-like figures,--tall damsels in slim waists and with spread enough +of skirt for a modern ballroom, with bowing, reclining, or musical swains +of what everybody calls the "conventional" sort,--that is, the swain +adapted to genteel society rather than to a literal sheep-compelling +existence. + +The house was furnished, soon after it was completed, with many heavy +articles made in London from a rare wood just then come into fashion, not +so rare now, and commonly known as mahogany. Time had turned it very +dark, and the stately bedsteads and tall cabinets and claw-footed chairs +and tables were in keeping with the sober dignity of the ancient mansion. +The old "hangings" were yet preserved in the chambers, faded, but still +showing their rich patterns,--properly entitled to their name, for they +were literally hung upon flat wooden frames like trellis-work, which +again were secured to the naked partitions. + +There were portraits of different date on the walls of the various +apartments, old painted coats-of-arms, bevel-edged mirrors, and in one +sleeping-room a glass case of wax-work flowers and spangly symbols, with +a legend signifying that E. M. (supposed to be Elizabeth Mascarene) +wished not to be "forgot" + + "When I am dead and lay'd in dust + And all my bones are"-- + +Poor E. M.! Poor everybody that sighs for earthly remembrance in a +planet with a core of fire and a crust of fossils! + +Such was the Dudley mansion-house,--for it kept its ancient name in spite +of the change in the line of descent. Its spacious apartments looked +dreary and desolate; for here Dudley Venner and his daughter dwelt by +themselves, with such servants only as their quiet mode of life required. +He almost lived in his library, the western room on the ground-floor. +Its window looked upon a small plat of green, in the midst of which was a +single grave marked by a plain marble slab. Except this room, and the +chamber where he slept, and the servants' wing, the rest of the house was +all Elsie's. She was always a restless, wandering child from her early +years, and would have her little bed moved from one chamber to +another,--flitting round as the fancy took her. Sometimes she would drag +a mat and a pillow into one of the great empty rooms, and, wrapping +herself in a shawl, coil up and go to sleep in a corner. Nothing +frightened her; the "haunted" chamber, with the torn hangings that +flapped like wings when there was air stirring, was one of her favorite +retreats. She had been a very hard creature to manage. Her father could +influence, but not govern her. Old Sophy, born of a slave mother in the +house, could do more with her than anybody, knowing her by long +instinctive study. The other servants were afraid of her. Her father had +sent for governesses, but none of them ever stayed long. She made them +nervous; one of them had a strange fit of sickness; not one of them ever +came back to the house to see her. A young Spanish woman who taught her +dancing succeeded best with her, for she had a passion for that exercise, +and had mastered some of the most difficult dances. Long before this +period, she had manifested some most extraordinary singularities of taste +or instinct. The extreme sensitiveness of her father on this point +prevented any allusion to them; but there were stories floating round, +some of them even getting into the papers,--without her name, of +course,--which were of a kind to excite intense curiosity, if not more +anxious feelings. This thing was certain, that at the age of twelve she +was missed one night, and was found sleeping in the open air under a +tree, like a wild creature. Very often she would wander off by day, +always without a companion, bringing home with her a nest, a flower, or +even a more questionable trophy of her ramble, such as showed that there +was no place where she was afraid to venture. Once in a while she had +stayed out over night, in which case the alarm was spread, and men went +in search of her, but never successfully,--so--that some said she hid +herself in trees, and others that she had found one of the old Tory +caves. + +Some, of course, said she was a crazy girl, and ought to be sent to an +Asylum. But old Dr. Kittredge had shaken his head, and told them to bear +with her, and let her have her way as much as they could, but watch her, +as far as possible, without making her suspicious of them. He visited her +now and then, under the pretext of seeing her father on business, or of +only making a friendly call. + +The Doctor fastened his horse outside the gate, and walked up the +garden-alley. He stopped suddenly with a start. A strange sound had +jarred upon his ear. It was a sharp prolonged rattle, continuous, but +rising and falling as if in rhythmical cadence. He moved softly towards +the open window from which the sound seemed to proceed. + +Elsie was alone in the room, dancing one of those wild Moorish fandangos, +such as a matador hot from the Plaza de Toros of Seville or Madrid might +love to lie and gaze at. She was a figure to look upon in silence. The +dancing frenzy must have seized upon her while she was dressing; for she +was in her bodice, bare-armed, her hair floating unbound far below the +waist of her barred or banded skirt. She had caught up her castanets, and +rattled them as she danced with a kind of passionate fierceness, her +lithe body undulating with flexuous grace, her diamond eyes glittering, +her round arms wreathing and unwinding, alive and vibrant to the tips of +the slender fingers. Some passion seemed to exhaust itself in this +dancing paroxysm; for all at once she reeled from the middle of the +floor, and flung herself, as it were in a careless coil, upon a great +tiger's-skin which was spread out in one corner of the apartment. + +The old Doctor stood motionless, looking at her as she lay panting on the +tawny, black-lined robe of the dead monster which stretched out beneath +her, its rude flattened outline recalling the Terror of the Jungle as he +crouched for his fatal spring. In a few moments her head drooped upon +her arm, and her glittering eyes closed,--she was sleeping. He stood +looking at her still, steadily, thoughtfully, tenderly. Presently he +lifted his hand to his forehead, as if recalling some fading remembrance +of other years. + +"Poor Catalina!" + +This was all he said. He shook his head,--implying that his visit would +be in vain to-day,--returned to his sulky, and rode away, as if in a +dream. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +COUSIN RICHARD'S VISIT. + +The Doctor was roused from his revery by the clatter of approaching +hoofs. He looked forward and saw a young fellow galloping rapidly +towards him. + +A common New-England rider with his toes turned out, his elbows jerking +and the daylight showing under him at every step, bestriding a cantering +beast of the plebeian breed, thick at every point where he should be +thin, and thin at every point where he should be thick, is not one of +those noble objects that bewitch the world. The best horsemen outside of +the cities are the unshod countryboys, who ride "bareback," with only a +halter round the horse's neck, digging their brown heels into his ribs, +and slanting over backwards, but sticking on like leeches, and taking the +hardest trot as if they loved it.--This was a different sight on which +the Doctor was looking. The streaming mane and tail of the unshorn, +savage-looking, black horse, the dashing grace with which the young +fellow in the shadowy sombrero, and armed with the huge spurs, sat in his +high-peaked saddle, could belong only to the mustang of the Pampas and +his master. This bold rider was a young man whose sudden apparition in +the quiet inland town had reminded some of the good people of a bright, +curly-haired boy they had known some eight or ten years before as little +Dick Venner. + +This boy had passed several of his early years at the Dudley mansion, the +playmate of Elsie, being her cousin, two or three years older than +herself, the son of Captain Richard Venner, a South American trader, who, +as he changed his residence often, was glad to leave the boy in his +brother's charge. The Captain's wife, this boy's mother, was a lady of +Buenos Ayres, of Spanish descent, and had died while the child was in his +cradle. These two motherless children were as strange a pair as one roof +could well cover. Both handsome, wild, impetuous, unmanageable, they +played and fought together like two young leopards, beautiful, but +dangerous, their lawless instincts showing through all their graceful +movements. + +The boy was little else than a young Gaucho when he first came to +Rockland; for he had learned to ride almost as soon as to walk, and could +jump on his pony and trip up a runaway pig with the bolas or noose him +with his miniature lasso at an age when some city-children would hardly +be trusted out of sight of a nursery-maid. It makes men imperious to sit +a horse; no man governs his fellows so well as from this living throne. +And so, from Marcus Aurelius in Roman bronze, down to the "man on +horseback" in General Cushing's prophetic speech, the saddle has always +been the true seat of empire. The absolute tyranny of the human will +over a noble and powerful beast develops the instinct of personal +prevalence and dominion; so that horse-subduer and hero were almost +synonymous in simpler times, and are closely related still. An ancestry +of wild riders naturally enough bequeaths also those other tendencies +which we see in the Tartars, the Cossacks, and our own Indian Centaurs, +and as well, perhaps, in the old-fashioned fox-hunting squire as in any +of these. Sharp alternations of violent action and self-indulgent +repose; a hard run, and a long revel after it; this is what over-much +horse tends to animalize a man into. Such antecedents may have helped to +make little Dick Venner a self-willed, capricious boy, and a rough +playmate for Elsie. + +Elsie was the wilder of the two. Old Sophy, who used to watch them with +those quick, animal-looking eyes of hers,--she was said to be the +granddaughter of a cannibal chief, and inherited the keen senses +belonging to all creatures which are hunted as game, Old Sophy, who +watched them in their play and their quarrels, always seemed to be more +afraid for the boy than the girl. "Masse Dick! Masse Dick! don' you be +too rough wi' dat gal! She scratch you las' week, 'n' some day she bite +you; 'n' if she bite you, Masse Dick!" Old Sophy nodded her head +ominously, as if she could say a great deal more; while, in grateful +acknowledgment of her caution, Master Dick put his two little fingers in +the angles of his mouth, and his forefingers on his lower eyelids, +drawing upon these features until his expression reminded her of +something she vaguely recollected in her infancy,--the face of a +favorite deity executed in wood by an African artist for her grandfather, +brought over by her mother, and burned when she became a Christian. + +These two wild children had much in common. They loved to ramble +together, to build huts, to climb trees for nests, to ride the colts, to +dance, to race, and to play at boys' rude games as if both were boys. +But wherever two natures have a great deal in common, the conditions of a +first-rate quarrel are furnished ready-made. Relations are very apt to +hate each other just because they are too much alike. It is so frightful +to be in an atmosphere of family idiosyncrasies; to see all the +hereditary uncomeliness or infirmity of body, all the defects of speech, +all the failings of temper, intensified by concentration, so that every +fault of our own finds itself multiplied by reflections, like our images +in a saloon lined with mirrors! Nature knows what she is about. The +centrifugal principle which grows out of the antipathy of like to like is +only the repetition in character of the arrangement we see expressed +materially in certain seed-capsules, which burst and throw the seed to +all points of the compass. A house is a large pod with a human germ or +two in each of its cells or chambers; it opens by dehiscence of the +front-door by and by, and projects one of its germs to Kansas, another to +San Francisco, another to Chicago, and so on; and this that Smith may not +be Smithed to death and Brown may not be Browned into a mad-house, but +mix in with the world again and struggle back to average humanity. + +Elsie's father, whose fault was to indulge her in everything, found that +it would never do to let these children grow up together. They would +either love each other as they got older, and pair like wild creatures, +or take some fierce antipathy, which might end nobody could tell where. +It was not safe to try. The boy must be sent away. A sharper quarrel +than common decided this point. Master Dick forgot Old Sophy's caution, +and vexed the girl into a paroxysm of wrath, in which she sprang at him +and bit his arm. Perhaps they made too much of it; for they sent for the +old Doctor, who came at once when he heard what had happened. He had a +good deal to say about the danger there was from the teeth of animals or +human beings when enraged; and as he emphasized his remarks by the +application of a pencil of lunar caustic to each of the marks left by the +sharp white teeth, they were like to be remembered by at least one of his +hearers. + +So Master Dick went off on his travels, which led him into strange places +and stranger company. Elsie was half pleased and half sorry to have him +go; the children had a kind of mingled liking and hate for each other, +just such as is very common among relations. Whether the girl had most +satisfaction in the plays they shared, or in teasing him, or taking her +small revenge upon him for teasing her, it would have been hard to say. +At any rate, she was lonely without him. She had more fondness for the +old black woman than anybody; but Sophy could not follow her far beyond +her own old rocking-chair. As for her father, she had made him afraid of +her, not for his sake, but for her own. Sometimes she would seem to be +fond of him, and the parent's heart would yearn within him as she twined +her supple arms about him; and then some look she gave him, some +half-articulated expression, would turn his cheek pale and almost make +him shiver, and he would say kindly, "Now go, Elsie, dear," and smile +upon her as she went, and close and lock the door softly after her. Then +his forehead would knot and furrow itself, and the drops of anguish stand +thick upon it. He would go to the western window of his study and look +at the solitary mound with the marble slab for its head-stone. After his +grief had had its way, he would kneel down and pray for his child as one +who has no hope save in that special grace which can bring the most +rebellious spirit into sweet subjection. All this might seem like +weakness in a parent having the charge of one sole daughter of his house +and heart; but he had tried authority and tenderness by turns so long +without any good effect, that he had become sore perplexed, and, +surrounding her with cautious watchfulness as he best might, left her in +the main to her own guidance and the merciful influences which Heaven +might send down to direct her footsteps. + +Meantime the boy grew up to youth and early manhood through a strange +succession of adventures. He had been at school at Buenos Ayres,--had +quarrelled with his mother's relatives,--had run off to the Pampas, and +lived with the Gauchos;--had made friends with the Indians, and ridden +with them, it was rumored, in some of their savage forays,--had returned +and made up his quarrel,--had got money by inheritance or otherwise,--had +troubled the peace of certain magistrates,--had found it convenient to +leave the City of Wholesome Breezes for a time, and had galloped off on a +fast horse of his, (so it was said,) with some officers riding after him, +who took good care (but this was only the popular story) not to catch +him. A few days after this he was taking his ice on the Alameda of +Mendoza, and a week or two later sailed from Valparaiso for New York, +carrying with him the horse with which he had scampered over the Plains, +a trunk or two with his newly purchased outfit of, clothing and other +conveniences, and a belt heavy with gold and with a few Brazilian +diamonds sewed in it, enough in value to serve him for a long journey. + +Dick Venner had seen life enough to wear out the earlier sensibilities of +adolescence. He was tired of worshipping or tyrannizing over the bistred +or umbered beauties of mingled blood among whom he had been living. Even +that piquant exhibition which the Rio de Mendoza presents to the amateur +of breathing sculpture failed to interest him. He was thinking of a +far-off village on the other side of the equator, and of the wild girl +with whom he used to play and quarrel, a creature of a different race +from these degenerate mongrels. + +"A game little devil she was, sure enough!"--And as Dick spoke, he bared +his wrist to look for the marks she had left on it: two small white +scars, where the two small sharp upper teeth had struck when she flashed +at him with her eyes sparkling as bright as those glittering stones sewed +up in the belt he wore. "That's a filly worth noosing!" said Dick to +himself, as he looked in admiration at the sign of her spirit and +passion. "I wonder if she will bite at eighteen as she did at eight! +She shall have a chance to try, at any rate!" + +Such was the self-sacrificing disposition with which Richard Venner, +Esq., a passenger by the Condor from Valparaiso, set foot upon his native +shore, and turned his face in the direction of Rockland, The Mountain, +and the mansion-house. He had heard something, from time to time, of his +New-England relatives, and knew that they were living together as he left +them. And so he heralded himself to "My dear Uncle" by a letter signed +"Your loving nephew, Richard Venner," in which letter he told a very +frank story of travel and mercantile adventure, expressed much gratitude +for the excellent counsel and example which had helped to form his +character and preserve him in the midst of temptation, inquired +affectionately after his uncle's health, was much interested to know +whether his lively cousin who used to be his playmate had grown up as +handsome as she promised to be, and announced his intention of paying his +respects to them both at Rockland. Not long after this came the trunks +marked R. V. which he had sent before him, forerunners of his advent: he +was not going to wait for a reply or an invitation. + +What a sound that is,--the banging down of the preliminary trunk, without +its claimant to give it the life which is borrowed by all personal +appendages, so long as the owner's hand or eye is on them! If it announce +the coming of one loved and longed for, how we delight to look at it, to +sit down on it, to caress it in our fancies, as a lone exile walking out +on a windy pier yearns towards the merchantman lying alongside, with the +colors of his own native land at her peak, and the name of the port he +sailed from long ago upon her stern! But if it tell the near approach of +the undesired, inevitable guest, what sound short of the muffled noises +made by the undertakers as they turn the corners in the dim-lighted +house, with low shuffle of feet and whispered cautions, carries such a +sense of knocking-kneed collapse with it as the thumping down in the +front entry of the heavy portmanteau, rammed with the changes of +uncounted coming weeks? + +Whether the R. V. portmanteaus brought one or the other of these emotions +to the tenants of the Dudley mansion, it might not be easy to settle. +Elsie professed to be pleased with the thought of having an adventurous +young stranger, with stories to tell, an inmate of their quiet, not to +say dull, family. Under almost any other circumstances, her father would +have been unwilling to take a young fellow of whom he knew so little +under his roof; but this was his nephew, and anything that seemed like to +amuse or please Elsie was agreeable to him. He had grown almost +desperate, and felt as if any change in the current of her life and +feelings might save her from some strange paroxysm of dangerous mental +exaltation or sullen perversion of disposition, from which some fearful +calamity might come to herself or others. + +Dick had been several weeks at the Dudley mansion. A few days before, he +had made a sudden dash for the nearest large city,--and when the Doctor +met him, he was just returning from his visit. + +It had been a curious meeting between the two young persons, who had +parted so young and after such strange relations with each other. When +Dick first presented himself at the mansion, not one in the house would +have known him for the boy who had left them all so suddenly years ago. +He was so dark, partly from his descent, partly from long habits of +exposure, that Elsie looked almost fair beside him. He had something of +the family beauty which belonged to his cousin, but his eye had a fierce +passion in it, very unlike the cold glitter of Elsie's. Like many people +of strong and imperious temper, he was soft-voiced and very gentle in his +address, when he had no special reason for being otherwise. He soon +found reasons enough to be as amiable as he could force himself to be +with his uncle and his cousin. Elsie was to his fancy. She had a +strange attraction for him, quite unlike anything he had ever known in +other women. There was something, too, in early associations: when those +who parted as children meet as man and woman, there is always a renewal +of that early experience which followed the taste of the forbidden +fruit,--a natural blush of consciousness, not without its charm. + +Nothing could be more becoming than the behavior of "Richard Venner, +Esquire, the guest of Dudley Venner, Esquire, at his noble mansion," as +he was announced in the Court column of the "Rockland Weekly Universe." +He was pleased to find himself treated with kindness and attention as a +relative. He made himself very agreeable by abundant details concerning +the religious, political, social, commercial, and educational progress of +the South American cities and states. He was himself much interested in +everything that was going on about the Dudley mansion, walked all over +it, noticed its valuable wood-lots with special approbation, was +delighted with the grand old house and its furniture, and would not be +easy until he had seen all the family silver and heard its history. In +return, he had much to tell of his father, now dead,--the only one of the +Venners, beside themselves, in whose fate his uncle was interested. With +Elsie, he was subdued and almost tender in his manner; with the few +visitors whom they saw, shy and silent,--perhaps a little watchful, if +any young man happened to be among them. + +Young fellows placed on their good behavior are apt to get restless and +nervous, all ready to fly off into some mischief or other. Dick Venner +had his half-tamed horse with him to work off his suppressed life with. +When the savage passion of his young blood came over him, he would fetch +out the mustang, screaming and kicking as these amiable beasts are wont +to do, strap the Spanish saddle tight to his back, vault into it, and, +after getting away from the village, strike the long spurs into his sides +and whirl away in a wild gallop, until the black horse was flecked with +white foam, and the cruel steel points were red with his blood. When +horse and rider were alike fired, he would fling the bridle on his neck +and saunter homeward, always contriving to get to the stable in a quiet +way, and coming into the house as calm as a bishop after a sober trot on +his steady-going cob. + +After a few weeks of this kind of life, he began to want some more fierce +excitement. He had tried making downright love to Elsie, with no great +success as yet, in his own opinion. The girl was capricious in her +treatment of him, sometimes scowling and repellent, sometimes familiar, +very often, as she used to be of old, teasing and malicious. All this, +perhaps, made her more interesting to a young man who was tired of easy +conquests. There was a strange fascination in her eyes, too, which at +times was quite irresistible, so that he would feel himself drawn to her +by a power which seemed to take away his will for the moment. It may +have been nothing but the common charm of bright eyes; but he had never +before experienced the same kind of attraction. + +Perhaps she was not so very different from what she had been as a child, +after all. At any rate, so it seemed to Dick Venner, who, as was said +before, had tried making love to her. They were sitting alone in the +study one day; Elsie had round her neck that somewhat peculiar ornament, +the golden torque, which she had worn to the great party. Youth is +adventurous and very curious about necklaces, brooches, chains, and other +such adornments, so long as they are worn by young persons of the female +sex. Dick was seized with a great passion for examining this curious +chain, and, after some preliminary questions, was rash enough to lean +towards her and put out his hand toward the neck that lay in the golden +coil. + +She threw her head back, her eyes narrowing and her forehead drawing down +so that Dick thought her head actually flattened itself. He started +involuntarily; for she looked so like the little girl who had struck him +with those sharp flashing teeth, that the whole scene came back, and he +felt the stroke again as if it had just been given, and the two white +scars began to sting as they did after the old Doctor had burned them +with that stick of gray caustic, which looked so like a slate pencil, and +felt so much like the end of a red-hot poker. + +It took something more than a gallop to set him right after this. The +next day he mentioned having received a letter from a mercantile agent +with whom he had dealings. What his business was is, perhaps, none of +our business. At any rate, it required him to go at once to the city +where his correspondent resided. + +Independently of this "business" which called him, there may have been +other motives, such as have been hinted at. People who have been living +for a long time in dreary country-places, without any emotion beyond such +as are occasioned by a trivial pleasure or annoyance, often get crazy at +last for a vital paroxysm of some kind or other. In this state they rush +to the great cities for a plunge into their turbid life-baths, with a +frantic thirst for every exciting pleasure, which makes them the willing +and easy victims of all those who sell the Devil's wares on commission. +The less intelligent and instructed class of unfortunates, who venture +with their ignorance and their instincts into what is sometimes called +the "life" of great cities, are put through a rapid course of instruction +which entitles them very commonly to a diploma from the police court. But +they only illustrate the working of the same tendency in mankind at large +which has been occasionally noticed in the sons of ministers and other +eminently worthy people, by many ascribed to that intense congenital +hatred for goodness which distinguishes human nature from that of the +brute, but perhaps as readily accounted for by considering it as the +yawning and stretching of a young soul cramped too long in one moral +posture. + +Richard Veneer was a young man of remarkable experience for his years. +He ran less risk, therefore, in exposing himself to the temptations and +dangers of a great city than many older men, who, seeking the livelier +scenes of excitement to be found in large towns as a relaxation after the +monotonous routine of family life, are too often taken advantage of and +made the victims of their sentiments or their generous confidence in +their fellow-creatures. Such was not his destiny. There was something +about him which looked as if he would not take bullying kindly. He had +also the advantage of being acquainted with most of those ingenious +devices by which the proverbial inconstancy of fortune is steadied to +something more nearly approaching fixed laws, and the dangerous risks +which have so often led young men to ruin and suicide are practically +reduced to somewhat less than nothing. So that Mr. Richard Veneer worked +off his nervous energies without any troublesome adventure, and was ready +to return to Rockland in less than a week, without having lightened the +money-belt he wore round his body, or tarnished the long glittering knife +he carried in his boot. + +Dick had sent his trunk to the nearest town through which the railroad +leading to the city passed. He rode off on his black horse and left him +at the place where he took the cars. On arriving at the city station, he +took a coach and drove to one of the great hotels. Thither drove also a +sagacious-looking, middle-aged man, who entered his name as "W. Thompson" +in the book at the office immediately after that of "R. Venner." Mr. +"Thompson" kept a carelessly observant eye upon Mr. Venner during his +stay at the hotel, and followed him to the cars when he left, looking +over his shoulder when he bought his ticket at the station, and seeing +him fairly off without obtruding himself in any offensive way upon his +attention. Mr. Thompson, known in other quarters as Detective Policeman +Terry, got very little by his trouble. Richard Venner did not turn out +to be the wife-poisoner, the defaulting cashier, the river-pirate, or the +great counterfeiter. He paid his hotel-bill as a gentleman should always +do, if he has the money and can spare it. The detective had probably +overrated his own sagacity when he ventured to suspect Mr. Venner. He +reported to his chief that there was a knowing-looking fellow he had been +round after, but he rather guessed he was nothing more than "one o' them +Southern sportsmen." + +The poor fellows at the stable where Dick had left his horse had had +trouble enough with him. One of the ostlers was limping about with a +lame leg, and another had lost a mouthful of his coat, which came very +near carrying a piece of his shoulder with it. When Mr. Venner came back +for his beast, he was as wild as if he had just been lassoed, screaming, +kicking, rolling over to get rid of his saddle, and when his rider was at +last mounted, jumping about in a way to dislodge any common horseman. To +all this Dick replied by sticking his long spurs deeper and deeper into +his flanks, until the creature found he was mastered, and dashed off as +if all the thistles of the Pampas were pricking him. + +"One more gallop, Juan?" This was in the last mile of the road before he +came to the town which brought him in sight of the mansion-house. It was +in this last gallop that the fiery mustang and his rider flashed by the +old Doctor. Cassia pointed her sharp ears and shied to let them pass. +The Doctor turned and looked through the little round glass in the back +of his sulky. + +"Dick Turpin, there, will find more than his match!" said the Doctor. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE APOLLINEAN INSTITUTE. (With Extracts from the "Report of the +committee.") + +The readers of this narrative will hardly expect any elaborate details of +the educational management of the Apollinean Institute. They cannot be +supposed to take the same interest in its affairs as was shown by the +Annual Committees who reported upon its condition and prospects. As +these Committees were, however, an important part of the mechanism of the +establishment, some general account of their organization and a few +extracts from the Report of the one last appointed may not be out of +place. + +Whether Mr. Silas Peckham had some contrivance for packing his +Committees, whether they happened always to be made up of optimists by +nature, whether they were cajoled into good-humor by polite attentions, +or whether they were always really delighted with the wonderful +acquirements of the pupils and the admirable order of the school, it is +certain that their Annual Reports were couched in language which might +warm the heart of the most cold-blooded and calculating father that ever +had a family of daughters to educate. In fact, these Annual Reports were +considered by Mr. Peckham as his most effective advertisements. + +The first thing, therefore, was to see that the Committee was made up of +persons known to the public. + +Some worn-out politician, in that leisurely and amiable transition-state +which comes between official extinction and the paralysis which will +finish him as soon as his brain gets a little softer, made an admirable +Chairman for Mr. Peckham, when he had the luck to pick up such an +article. Old reputations, like old fashions, are more prized in the +grassy than in the stony districts. An effete celebrity, who would never +be heard of again in the great places until the funeral sermon waked up +his memory for one parting spasm, finds himself in full flavor of renown +a little farther back from the changing winds of the sea-coast. If such +a public character was not to be had, so that there was no chance of +heading the Report with the name of the Honorable Mr. Somebody, the next +best thing was to get the Reverend Dr. Somebody to take that conspicuous +position. Then would follow two or three local worthies with Esquire +after their names. If any stray literary personage from one of the great +cities happened to be within reach, he was pounced upon by Mr. Silas +Peckham. It was a hard case for the poor man, who had travelled a +hundred miles or two to the outside suburbs after peace and unwatered +milk, to be pumped for a speech in this unexpected way. It was harder +still, if he had been induced to venture a few tremulous remarks, to be +obliged to write them out for the "Rockland Weekly Universe," with the +chance of seeing them used as an advertising certificate as long as he +lived, if he lived as long as the late Dr. Waterhouse did after giving +his certificate in favor of Whitwell's celebrated Cephalic Snuff. + +The Report of the last Committee had been signed by the Honorable, +___________late __________ of ____________, as Chairman. (It is with +reluctance that the name and titles are left in blank; but our public +characters are so familiarly known to the whole community that this +reserve becomes necessary.) The other members of the Committee were the +Reverend Mr. Butters, of a neighboring town, who was to make the prayer +before the Exercises of the Exhibition, and two or three notabilities of +Rockland, with geoponic eyes, and glabrous, bumpless foreheads. A few +extracts from the Report are subjoined: + +"The Committee have great pleasure in recording their unanimous opinion, +that the Institution was never in so flourishing a condition.... + +"The health of the pupils is excellent; the admirable quality of food +supplied shows itself in their appearance; their blooming aspect excited +the admiration of the Committee, and bears testimony to the assiduity of +the excellent Matron. + +"......moral and religious condition most encouraging, which they cannot +but attribute to the personal efforts and instruction of the faithful +Principal, who considers religious instruction a solemn duty which he +cannot commit to other people. + +"......great progress in their studies, under the intelligent +superintendence of the accomplished Principal, assisted by Mr. Badger, +[Mr. Langdon's predecessor,] Miss Darley, the lady who superintends the +English branches, Miss Crabs, her assistant and teacher of Modern +Languages, and Mr. Schneider, teacher of French, German, Latin, and +Music.... + +"Education is the great business of the Institute. Amusements are +objects of a secondary nature; but these are by no means neglected.... + +"......English compositions of great originality and beauty, creditable +alike to the head and heart of their accomplished authors.... several +poems of a very high order of merit, which would do honor to the +literature of any age or country.... life-like drawings, showing great +proficiency.... Many converse fluently in various modern languages.... +perform the most difficult airs with the skill of professional +musicians.... + +"......advantages unsurpassed, if equalled by those of any Institution in +the country, and reflecting the highest honor on the distinguished Head +of the Establishment, SILAS PECKHAM, Esquire, and his admirable Lady, the +MATRON, with their worthy assistants...." + +The perusal of this Report did Mr. Bernard more good than a week's +vacation would have done: It gave him such a laugh as he had not had for +a month. The way in which Silas Peckham had made his Committee say what +he wanted them to--for he recognized a number of expressions in the +Report as coming directly from the lips of his principal, and could not +help thinking how cleverly he had forced his phrases, as jugglers do the +particular card they wish their dupe to take--struck him as particularly +neat and pleasing. + +He had passed through the sympathetic and emotional stages in his new +experience, and had arrived at the philosophical and practical state, +which takes things coolly, and goes to work to set them right. He had +breadth enough of view to see that there was nothing so very exceptional +in this educational trader's dealings with his subordinates, but he had +also manly feeling enough to attack the particular individual instance of +wrong before him. There are plenty of dealer's in morals, as in ordinary +traffic, who confine themselves to wholesale business. They leave the +small necessity of their next-door neighbor to the retailers, who are +poorer in statistics and general facts, but richer in the every-day +charities. Mr. Bernard felt, at first, as one does who sees a gray rat +steal out of a drain and begin gnawing at the bark of some tree loaded +with fruit or blossoms, which he will soon girdle, if he is let alone. +The first impulse is to murder him with the nearest ragged stone. Then +one remembers that he is a rodent, acting after the law of his kind, and +cools down and is contented to drive him off and guard the tree against +his teeth for the future. As soon as this is done, one can watch his +attempts at mischief with a certain amusement. + +This was the kind of process Mr. Bernard had gone through. First, the +indignant surprise of a generous nature, when it comes unexpectedly into +relations with a mean one. Then the impulse of extermination,--a divine +instinct, intended to keep down vermin of all classes to their working +averages in the economy of Nature. Then a return of cheerful +tolerance,--a feeling, that, if the Deity could bear with rats and +sharpers, he could; with a confident trust, that, in the long run, +terriers and honest men would have the upperhand, and a grateful +consciousness that he had been sent just at the right time to come +between a patient victim and the master who held her in peonage. + +Having once made up his mind what to do, Mr. Bernard was as good-natured +and hopeful as ever. He had the great advantage, from his professional +training, of knowing how to recognize and deal with the nervous +disturbances to which overtasked women are so liable. He saw well enough +that Helen Darley would certainly kill herself or lose her wits, if he +could not lighten her labors and lift off a large part of her weight of +cares. The worst of it was, that she was one of those women who +naturally overwork themselves, like those horses who will go at the top +of their pace until they drop. Such women are dreadfully unmanageable. +It is as hard reasoning with them as it would have been reasoning with +Io, when she was flying over land and sea, driven by the sting of the +never-sleeping gadfly. + +This was a delicate, interesting game that he played. Under one innocent +pretext or another, he invaded this or that special province she had made +her own. He would collect the themes and have them all read and marked, +answer all the puzzling questions in mathematics, make the other teachers +come to him for directions, and in this way gradually took upon himself +not only all the general superintendence that belonged to his office, but +stole away so many of the special duties which might fairly have belonged +to his assistant, that, before she knew it, she was looking better and +feeling more cheerful than for many and many a month before. + +When the nervous energy is depressed by any bodily cause, or exhausted by +overworking, there follow effects which have often been misinterpreted by +moralists, and especially by theologians. The conscience itself becomes +neuralgic, sometimes actually inflamed, so that the least touch is agony. +Of all liars and false accusers, a sick conscience is the most inventive +and indefatigable. The devoted daughter, wife, mother, whose life has +been given to unselfish labors, who has filled a place which it seems to +others only an angel would make good, reproaches herself with +incompetence and neglect of duty. The humble Christian, who has been a +model to others, calls himself a worm of the dust on one page of his +diary, and arraigns himself on the next for coming short of the +perfection of an archangel. + +Conscience itself requires a conscience, or nothing can be more +unscrupulous. It told Saul that he did well in persecuting the +Christians. It has goaded countless multitudes of various creeds to +endless forms of self-torture. The cities of India are full of cripples +it has made. The hill-sides of Syria are riddled with holes, where +miserable hermits, whose lives it had palsied, lived and died like the +vermin they harbored. Our libraries are crammed with books written by +spiritual hypochondriacs, who inspected all their moral secretions a +dozen times a day. They are full of interest, but they should be +transferred from the shelf of the theologian to that of the medical man +who makes a study of insanity. + +This was the state into which too much work and too much responsibility +were bringing Helen Darley, when the new master came and lifted so much +of the burden that was crushing her as must be removed before she could +have a chance to recover her natural elasticity and buoyancy. Many of +the noblest women, suffering like her, but less fortunate in being +relieved at the right moment, die worried out of life by the perpetual +teasing of this inflamed, neuralgic conscience. So subtile is the line +which separates the true and almost angelic sensibility of a healthy, but +exalted nature, from the soreness of a soul which is sympathizing with a +morbid state of the body that it is no wonder they are often confounded. +And thus many good women are suffered to perish by that form of +spontaneous combustion in which the victim goes on toiling day and night +with the hidden fire consuming her, until all at once her cheek whitens, +and, as we look upon her, she drops away, a heap of ashes. The more they +overwork themselves, the more exacting becomes the sense of duty,--as the +draught of the locomotive's furnace blows stronger and makes the fire +burn more fiercely, the faster it spins along the track. + +It is not very likely, as was said at the beginning of this chapter, that +we shall trouble ourselves a great deal about the internal affairs of the +Apollinean Institute. These schools are, in the nature of things, not so +very unlike each other as to require a minute description for each +particular one among them. They have all very much the same general +features, pleasing and displeasing. All feeding-establishments have +something odious about them,--from the wretched country-houses where +paupers are farmed out to the lowest bidder, up to the commons-tables at +colleges and even the fashionable boarding-house. A person's appetite +should be at war with no other purse than his own. Young people, +especially, who have a bone-factory at work in them, and have to feed the +living looms of innumerable growing tissues, should be provided for, if +possible, by those who love them like their own flesh and blood. +Elsewhere their appetites will be sure to make them enemies, or, what are +almost as bad, friends whose interests are at variance with the claims of +their exacting necessities and demands. + +Besides, all commercial transactions in regard to the most sacred +interests of life are hateful even to those who profit by them. The +clergyman, the physician, the teacher, must be paid; but each of them, if +his duty be performed in the true spirit, can hardly help a shiver of +disgust when money is counted out to him for administering the +consolations of religion, for saving some precious life, for sowing the +seeds of Christian civilization in young ingenuous souls. + +And yet all these schools, with their provincial French and their +mechanical accomplishments, with their cheap parade of diplomas and +commencements and other public honors, have an ever fresh interest to all +who see the task they are performing in our new social order. These girls +are not being educated for governesses, or to be exported, with other +manufactured articles, to colonies where there happens to be a surplus of +males. Most of them will be wives, and every American-born husband is a +possible President of these United States. Any one of these girls may be +a four-years' queen. There is no sphere of human activity so exalted +that she may not be called upon to fill it. + +But there is another consideration of far higher interest. The education +of our community to all that is beautiful is flowing in mainly through +its women, and that to a considerable extent by the aid of these large +establishments, the least perfect of which do something to stimulate the +higher tastes and partially instruct them. Sometimes there is, perhaps, +reason to fear that girls will be too highly educated for their own +happiness, if they are lifted by their culture out of the range of the +practical and every-day working youth by whom they are surrounded. But +this is a risk we must take. Our young men come into active life so +early, that, if our girls were not educated to something beyond mere +practical duties, our material prosperity would outstrip our culture; as +it often does in large places where money is made too rapidly. This is +the meaning, therefore, of that somewhat ambitious programme common to +most of these large institutions, at which we sometimes smile, perhaps +unwisely or uncharitably. + +We shall take it for granted that the routine of instruction went on at +the Apollinean Institute much as it does in other schools of the same +class. People, young or old, are wonderfully different, if we contrast +extremes in pairs. They approach much nearer, if we take them in groups +of twenty. Take two separate hundreds as they come, without choosing, +and you get the gamut of human character in both so completely that you +can strike many chords in each which shall be in perfect unison with +corresponding ones in the other. If we go a step farther, and compare +the population of two villages of the same race and region, there is such +a regularly graduated distribution and parallelism of character, that it +seems as if Nature must turn out human beings in sets like chessmen. + +It must be confessed that the position in which Mr. Bernard now found +himself had a pleasing danger about it which might well justify all the +fears entertained on his account by more experienced friends, when they +learned that he was engaged in a Young Ladies' Seminary. The school never +went on more smoothly than during the first period of his administration, +after he had arranged its duties, and taken his share, and even more than +his share, upon himself. But human nature does not wait for the diploma +of the Apollinean Institute to claim the exercise of it, instincts and +faculties. These young girls saw but little of the youth of the +neighborhood. The mansion-house young men were off at college or in the +cities, or making love to each other's sisters, or at any rate +unavailable for some reason or other. There were a few "clerks,"--that +is, young men who attended shops, commonly called "stores,"--who were +fond of walking by the Institute, when they were off duty, for the sake +of exchanging a word or a glance with any one of the young ladies they +might happen to know, if any such were stirring abroad: crude young men, +mostly, with a great many "Sirs" and "Ma'ams" in their speech, and with +that style of address sometimes acquired in the retail business, as if +the salesman were recommending himself to a customer, "First-rate family +article, Ma'am; warranted to wear a lifetime; just one yard and three +quarters in this pattern, Ma'am; sha'n't I have the pleasure?" and so +forth. If there had been ever so many of them, and if they had been ever +so fascinating, the quarantine of the Institute was too rigorous to allow +any romantic infection to be introduced from without. + +Anybody might see what would happen, with a good-looking, well-dressed, +well-bred young man, who had the authority of a master, it is true, but +the manners of a friend and equal, moving about among these young girls +day after day, his eyes meeting theirs, his breath mingling with theirs, +his voice growing familiar to them, never in any harsh tones, often +soothing, encouraging, always sympathetic, with its male depth and +breadth of sound among the chorus of trebles, as if it were a river in +which a hundred of these little piping streamlets-might lose themselves; +anybody might see what would happen. Young girls wrote home to their +parents that they enjoyed themselves much, this term, at the Institute, +and thought they were making rapid progress in their studies. There was +a great enthusiasm for the young master's reading-classes in English +poetry. Some of the poor little things began to adorn themselves with an +extra ribbon, or a bit of such jewelry as they had before kept for great +occasions. Dear souls! they only half knew what they were doing it for. +Does the bird know why its feathers grow more brilliant and its voice +becomes musical in the pairing season? + +And so, in the midst of this quiet inland town, where a mere accident had +placed Mr. Bernard Langdon, there was a concentration of explosive +materials which might at any time change its Arcadian and academic repose +into a scene of dangerous commotion. What said Helen Darley, when she +saw with her woman's glance that more than one girl, when she should be +looking at her book, was looking over it toward the master's desk? Was +her own heart warmed by any livelier feeling than gratitude, as its life +began to flow with fuller pulses, and the morning sky again looked bright +and the flowers recovered their lost fragrance? Was there any strange, +mysterious affinity between the master and the dark girl who sat by +herself? Could she call him at will by looking at him? Could it be +that--? It made her shiver to think of it.--And who was that strange +horseman who passed Mr. Bernard at dusk the other evening, looking so +like Mephistopheles galloping hard to be in season at the witches' +Sabbath-gathering? That must be the cousin of Elsie's who wants to marry +her, they say. A dangerous-looking fellow for a rival, if one took a +fancy to the dark girl! And who is she, and what?--by what demon is she +haunted, by what taint is she blighted, by what curse is she followed, by +what destiny is she marked, that her strange beauty has such a terror in +it, and that hardly one shall dare to love her, and her eye glitters +always, but warms for none? + +Some of these questions are ours. Some were Helen Darley's. Some of +them mingled with the dreams of Bernard Langdon, as he slept the night +after meeting the strange horseman. In the morning he happened to be a +little late in entering the schoolroom. There was something between the +leaves of the Virgil which lay upon his desk. He opened it and saw a +freshly gathered mountain-flower. He looked at Elsie, instinctively, +involuntarily. She had another such flower on her breast. + +A young girl's graceful compliment,--that is all,--no doubt,--no doubt. +It was odd that the flower should have happened to be laid between the +leaves of the Fourth Book of the "AEneid," and at this line, + + "Incipit effari, mediaque in voce resistit." + +A remembrance of an ancient superstition flashed through the master's +mind, and he determined to try the Sortes Virgilianae. He shut the +volume, and opened it again at a venture.--The story of Laocoon! + +He read with a strange feeling of unwilling fascination, from "Horresco +referees" to "Bis medium amplexi," and flung the book from him, as if its +leaves had been steeped in the subtle poisons that princes die of. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +CURIOSITY. + +People will talk. 'Ciascun lo dice' is a tune that is played oftener +than the national air of this country or any other. + +"That 's what they say. Means to marry her, if she is his cousin. Got +money himself,--that 's the story,--but wants to come and live in the old +place, and get the Dudley property by and by." "Mother's folks was +wealthy."--"Twenty-three to twenty-five year old."--"He a'n't more 'n +twenty, or twenty-one at the outside."--"Looks as if he knew too much to +be only twenty year old."--"Guess he's been through the mill,--don't look +so green, anyhow, hey? Did y' ever mind that cut over his left eyebrow?" + +So they gossiped in Rockland. The young fellows could make nothing of +Dick Venner. He was shy and proud with the few who made advances to him. +The young ladies called him handsome and romantic, but he looked at them +like a many-tailed pacha who was in the habit of, ordering his wives by +the dozen. + +"What do you think of the young man over there at the Veneers'?" said +Miss Arabella Thornton to her father. + +"Handsome," said the Judge, "but dangerous-looking. His face is +indictable at common law. Do you know, my dear, I think there is a blank +at the Sheriff's office, with a place for his name in it?" + +The Judge paused and looked grave, as if he had just listened to the +verdict of the jury and was going to pronounce sentence. + +"Have you heard anything against him?" said the Judge's daughter. + +"Nothing. But I don't like these mixed bloods and half-told stories. +Besides, I have seen a good many desperate fellows at the bar, and I have +a fancy they all have a look belonging to them. The worst one I ever +sentenced looked a good deal like this fellow. A wicked mouth. All our +other features are made for us; but a man makes his own mouth." + +"Who was the person you sentenced?" + +"He was a young fellow that undertook to garrote a man who had won his +money at cards. The same slender shape, the same cunning, fierce look, +smoothed over with a plausible air. Depend upon it, there is an +expression in all the sort of people who live by their wits when they +can, and by worse weapons when their wits fail them, that we old +law-doctors know just as well as the medical counsellors know the marks +of disease in a man's face. Dr. Kittredge looks at a man and says he is +going to die; I look at another man and say he is going to be hanged, if +nothing happens. I don't say so of this one, but I don't like his looks. +I wonder Dudley Veneer takes to him so kindly." + +"It's all for Elsie's sake," said Miss Thornton. "I feel quite sure of +that. He never does anything that is not meant for her in some way. I +suppose it amuses her to have her cousin about the house. She rides a +good deal since he has been here. Have you seen them galloping about +together? He looks like my idea of a Spanish bandit on that wild horse +of his." + +"Possibly he has been one,--or is one," said the Judge,--smiling as men +smile whose lips have often been freighted with the life and death of +their fellow-creatures. "I met them riding the other day. Perhaps Dudley +is right, if it pleases her to have a companion. What will happen, +though, if he makes love to her? Will Elsie be easily taken with such a +fellow? You young folks are supposed to know more about these matters +than we middle-aged people." + +"Nobody can tell. Elsie is not like anybody else. The girls who have +seen most of her think she hates men, all but 'Dudley,' as she calls her +father. Some of them doubt whether she loves him. They doubt whether +she can love anything human, except perhaps the old black woman who has +taken care of her since she was a baby. The village people have the +strangest stories about her; you know what they call her?" + +She whispered three words in her father's ear. The Judge changed color +as she spoke, sighed deeply, and was silent as if lost in thought for a +moment. + +"I remember her mother," he said, "so well! A sweeter creature never +lived. Elsie has something of her in her look, but those are not her +mother's eyes. They were dark, but soft, as in all I ever saw of her +race. Her father's are dark too, but mild, and even tender, I should +say. I don't know what there is about Elsie's,--but do you know, my +dear, I find myself curiously influenced by them? I have had to face a +good many sharp eyes and hard ones,--murderers' eyes and pirates',--men +who had to be watched in the bar, where they stood on trial, for fear +they should spring on the prosecuting officers like tigers,--but I never +saw such eyes as Elsie's; and yet they have a kind of drawing virtue or +power about them,--I don't know what else to call it: have you never +observed this?" + +His daughter smiled in her turn. + +"Never observed it? Why, of course, nobody could be with Elsie Venner +and not observe it. There are a good many other strange things about +her: did you ever notice how she dresses?" + +"Why, handsomely enough, I should think," the Judge answered. "I suppose +she dresses as she likes, and sends to the city for what she wants. What +do you mean in particular? We men notice effects in dress, but not much +in detail." + +"You never noticed the colors and patterns of her dresses? You never +remarked anything curious about her ornaments? Well! I don't believe +you men know, half the time, whether a lady wears a nine-penny collar or +a thread-lace cape worth a thousand dollars. I don't believe you know a +silk dress from a bombazine one. I don't believe you can tell whether a +woman is in black or in colors, unless you happen to know she is a widow. +Elsie Venner has a strange taste in dress, let me tell you. She sends +for the oddest patterns of stuffs, and picks out the most curious things +at the jeweller's, whenever she goes to town with her father. They say +the old Doctor tells him to let her have her way about such matters. +Afraid of her mind, if she is contradicted, I suppose. You've heard +about her going to school at that place,--the 'Institoot,' as those +people call it? They say she's bright enough in her way,--has studied at +home, you know, with her father a good deal, knows some modern languages +and Latin, I believe: at any rate, she would have it so,--she must go to +the 'Institoot.' They have a very good female teacher there, I hear; and +the new master, that young Mr. Langdon, looks and talks like a +well-educated young man. I wonder what they 'll make of Elsie, between +them!" + +So they talked at the Judge's, in the calm, judicial-looking +mansion-house, in the grave, still library, with the troops of wan-hued +law-books staring blindly out of their titles at them as they talked, +like the ghosts of dead attorneys fixed motionless and speechless, each +with a thin, golden film over his unwinking eyes. + +In the mean time, everything went on quietly enough after Cousin +Richard's return. A man of sense,--that is, a man who knows perfectly +well that a cool head is worth a dozen warm hearts in carrying the +fortress of a woman's affections, (not yours, "Astarte," nor yours, +"Viola,")--who knows that men are rejected by women every day because +they, the men, love them, and are accepted every day because they do not, +and therefore can study the arts of pleasing,--a man of sense, when he +finds he has established his second parallel too soon, retires quietly to +his first, and begins working on his covered ways again. The whole art +of love may be read in any Encyclopaedia under the title Fortification, +where the terms just used are explained. After the little adventure of +the necklace, Dick retreated at once to his first parallel. Elsie loved +riding,--and would go off with him on a gallop now and then. He was a +master of all those strange Indian horseback-feats which shame the tricks +of the circus-riders, and used to astonish and almost amuse her sometimes +by disappearing from his saddle, like a phantom horseman lying flat +against the side of the bounding creature that bore him, as if he were a +hunting leopard with his claws in the horse's flank and flattening +himself out against his heaving ribs. Elsie knew a little Spanish too, +which she had learned from the young person who had taught her dancing, +and Dick enlarged her vocabulary with a few soft phrases, and would sing +her a song sometimes, touching the air upon an ancient-looking guitar +they had found with the ghostly things in the garret,--a quaint old +instrument, marked E. M. on the back, and supposed to have belonged to a +certain Elizabeth Mascarene, before mentioned in connection with a work +of art,--a fair, dowerless lady, who smiled and sung and faded away, +unwedded, a hundred years ago, as dowerless ladies, not a few, are +smiling and singing and fading now,--God grant each of them His +love,--and one human heart as its interpreter! + +As for school, Elsie went or stayed away as she liked. Sometimes, when +they thought she was at her desk in the great schoolroom, she would be on +The Mountain,--alone always. Dick wanted to go with her, but she would +never let him. Once, when she had followed the zigzag path a little way +up, she looked back and caught a glimpse of him following her. She +turned and passed him without a word, but giving him a look which seemed +to make the scars on his wrist tingle, went to her room, where she locked +herself up, and did not come out again till evening, Old Sophy having +brought her food, and set it down, not speaking, but looking into her +eyes inquiringly, like a dumb beast trying to feel out his master's will +in his face. The evening was clear and the moon shining. As Dick sat at +his chamber-window, looking at the mountain-side, he saw a gray-dressed +figure flit between the trees and steal along the narrow path which led +upward. Elsie's pillow was unpressed that night, but she had not been +missed by the household,--for Dick knew enough to keep his own counsel. +The next morning she avoided him and went off early to school. It was +the same morning that the young master found the flower between the +leaves of his Virgil. + +The girl got over her angry fit, and was pleasant enough with her cousin +for a few days after this; but she shunned rather than sought him. She +had taken a new interest in her books, and especially in certain poetical +readings which the master conducted with the elder scholars. This gave +Master Langdon a good chance to study her ways when her eye was on her +book, to notice the inflections of her voice, to watch for any expression +of her sentiments; for, to tell the truth, he had a kind of fear that the +girl had taken a fancy to him, and, though she interested him, he did not +wish to study her heart from the inside. + +The more he saw her, the more the sadness of her beauty wrought upon him. +She looked as if she might hate, but could not love. She hardly smiled +at anything, spoke rarely, but seemed to feel that her natural power of +expression lay all in her bright eyes, the force of which so many had +felt, but none perhaps had tried to explain to themselves. A person +accustomed to watch the faces of those who were ailing in body or mind, +and to search in every line and tint for some underlying source of +disorder, could hardly help analyzing the impression such a face produced +upon him. The light of those beautiful eyes was like the lustre of ice; +in all her features there was nothing of that human warmth which shows +that sympathy has reached the soul beneath the mask of flesh it wears. +The look was that of remoteness, of utter isolation. There was in its +stony apathy, it seemed to him, the pathos which we find in the blind who +show no film or speck over the organs of sight; for Nature had meant her +to be lovely, and left out nothing but love. And yet the master could +not help feeling that some instinct was working in this girl which was in +some way leading her to seek his presence. She did not lift her +glittering eyes upon him as at first. It seemed strange that she did +not, for they were surely her natural weapons of conquest. Her color did +not come and go like that of young girls under excitement. She had a +clear brunette complexion, a little sun-touched, it may be,--for the +master noticed once, when her necklace was slightly displaced, that a +faint ring or band of a little lighter shade than the rest of the surface +encircled her neck. What was the slight peculiarity of her enunciation, +when she read? Not a lisp, certainly, but the least possible +imperfection in articulating some of the lingual sounds,--just enough to +be noticed at first, and quite forgotten after being a few times heard. + +Not a word about the flower on either side. It was not uncommon for the +schoolgirls to leave a rose or pink or wild flower on the teacher's desk. +Finding it in the Virgil was nothing, after all; it was a little delicate +flower, which looked as if it were made to press, and it was probably +shut in by accident at the particular place where he found it. He took +it into his head to examine it in a botanical point of view. He found it +was not common,--that it grew only in certain localities,--and that one +of these was among the rocks of the eastern spur of The Mountain. + +It happened to come into his head how the Swiss youth climb the sides of +the Alps to find the flower called the Edelweiss for the maidens whom +they wish to please. It is a pretty fancy, that of scaling some +dangerous height before the dawn, so as to gather the flower in its +freshness, that the favored maiden may wear it to church on Sunday +morning, a proof at once of her lover's devotion and his courage. Mr. +Bernard determined to explore the region where this flower was said to +grow, that he might see where the wild girl sought the blossoms of which +Nature was so jealous. + +It was on a warm, fair Saturday afternoon that he undertook his +land-voyage of discovery. He had more curiosity, it may be, than he +would have owned; for he had heard of the girl's wandering habits, and +the guesses about her sylvan haunts, and was thinking what the chances +were that he should meet her in some strange place, or come upon traces +of her which would tell secrets she would not care to have known. + +The woods are all alive to one who walks through them with his mind in an +excited state, and his eyes and ears wide open. The trees are always +talking, not merely whispering with their leaves, (for every tree talks +to itself in that way, even when it stands alone in the middle of a +pasture,) but grating their boughs against each other, as old horn-handed +farmers press their dry, rustling palms together, dropping a nut or a +leaf or a twig, clicking to the tap of a woodpecker, or rustling as a +squirrel flashes along a branch. It was now the season of singing-birds, +and the woods were haunted with mysterious, tender music. The voices of +the birds which love the deeper shades of the forest are sadder than +those of the open fields: these are the nuns who have taken the veil, the +hermits that have hidden themselves away from the world and tell their +griefs to the infinite listening Silences of the wilderness,--for the one +deep inner silence that Nature breaks with her fitful superficial sounds +becomes multiplied as the image of a star in ruffled waters. Strange! +The woods at first convey the impression of profound repose, and yet, if +you watch their ways with open ear, you find the life which is in them is +restless and nervous as that of a woman: the little twigs are crossing +and twining and separating like slender fingers that cannot be still; the +stray leaf is to be flattened into its place like a truant curl; the +limbs sway and twist, impatient of their constrained attitude; and the +rounded masses of foliage swell upward and subside from time to time with +long soft sighs, and, it may be, the falling of a few rain-drops which +had lain hidden among the deeper shadows. I pray you, notice, in the +sweet summer days which will soon see you among the mountains, this +inward tranquillity that belongs to the heart of the woodland, with this +nervousness, for I do not know what else to call it, of outer movement. +One would say, that Nature, like untrained persons, could not sit still +without nestling about or doing something with her limbs or features, and +that high breeding was only to be looked for in trim gardens, where the +soul of the trees is ill at ease perhaps, but their manners are +unexceptionable, and a rustling branch or leaf falling out of season is +an indecorum. The real forest is hardly still except in the Indian +summer; then there is death in the house, and they are waiting for the +sharp shrunken months to come with white raiment for the summer's burial. + +There were many hemlocks in this neighborhood, the grandest and most +solemn of all the forest-trees in the mountain regions. Up to a certain +period of growth they are eminently beautiful, their boughs disposed in +the most graceful pagoda-like series of close terraces, thick and dark +with green crystalline leaflets. In spring the tender shoots come out of +a paler green, finger-like, as if they were pointing to the violets at +their feet. But when the trees have grown old, and their rough boles +measure a yard and more through their diameter, they are no longer +beautiful, but they have a sad solemnity all their own, too full of +meaning to require the heart's comment to be framed in words. Below, all +their earthward-looking branches are sapless and shattered, splintered by +the weight of many winters' snows; above, they are still green and full +of life, but their summits overtop all the deciduous trees around them, +and in their companionship with heaven they are alone. On these the +lightning loves to fall. One such Mr. Bernard saw,--or rather, what had +been one such; for the bolt had torn the tree like an explosion from +within, and the ground was strewed all around the broken stump with +flakes of rough bark and strips and chips of shivered wood, into which +the old tree had been rent by the bursting rocket from the thunder-cloud. + +--The master had struck up The Mountain obliquely from the western side +of the Dudley mansion-house. In this way he ascended until he reached a +point many hundred feet above the level of the plain, and commanding all +the country beneath and around. Almost at his feet he saw the +mansion-house, the chimney standing out of the middle of the roof, or +rather, like a black square hole in it,--the trees almost directly over +their stems, the fences as lines, the whole nearly as an architect would +draw a ground-plan of the house and the inclosures round it. It +frightened him to see how the huge masses of rock and old forest-growths +hung over the home below. As he descended a little and drew near the +ledge of evil name, he was struck with the appearance of a long narrow +fissure that ran parallel with it and above it for many rods, not +seemingly of very old standing,--for there were many fibres of roots +which had evidently been snapped asunder when the rent took place, and +some of which were still succulent in both separated portions. + +Mr. Bernard had made up his mind, when he set forth, not to come back +before he had examined the dreaded ledge. He had half persuaded himself +that it was scientific curiosity. He wished to examine the rocks, to see +what flowers grew there, and perhaps to pick up an adventure in the +zoological line; for he had on a pair of high, stout boots, and he +carried a stick in his hand, which was forked at one extremity, so as to +be very convenient to hold down a crotalus with, if he should happen to +encounter one. He knew the aspect of the ledge from a distance; for its +bald and leprous-looking declivities stood out in their nakedness from +the wooded sides of The Mountain, when this was viewed from certain +points of the village. But the nearer aspect of the blasted region had +something frightful in it. The cliffs were water-worn, as if they had +been gnawed for thousands of years by hungry waves. In some places they +overhung their base so as to look like leaning towers which might topple +over at any minute. In other parts they were scooped into niches or +caverns. Here and there they were cracked in deep fissures, some of them +of such width that one might enter them, if he cared to run the risk of +meeting the regular tenants, who might treat him as an intruder. + +Parts of the ledge were cloven perpendicularly, with nothing but cracks +or slightly projecting edges in which or on which a foot could find hold. +High up on one of these precipitous walls of rock he saw some tufts of +flowers, and knew them at once for the same that he had found between the +leaves of his Virgil. Not there, surely! No woman would have clung +against that steep, rough parapet to gather an idle blossom. And yet the +master looked round everywhere, and even up the side of that rock, to see +if there were no signs of a woman's footstep. He peered about curiously, +as if his eye might fall on some of those fragments of dress which women +leave after them, whenever they run against each other or against +anything else,--in crowded ballrooms, in the brushwood after picnics, on +the fences after rambles, scattered round over every place which has +witnessed an act of violence, where rude hands have been laid upon them. +Nothing--Stop, though, one moment. That stone is smooth and polished, +as if it had been somewhat worn by the pressure of human feet. There is +one twig broken among the stems of that clump of shrubs. He put his foot +upon the stone and took hold of the close-clinging shrub. In this way he +turned a sharp angle of the rock and found himself on a natural platform, +which lay in front of one of the wider fissures,--whether the mouth of a +cavern or not he could not yet tell. A flat stone made an easy seat, +upon which he sat down, as he was very glad to do, and looked +mechanically about him. A small fragment splintered from the rock was at +his feet. He took it and threw it down the declivity a little below +where he sat. He looked about for a stem or a straw of some kind to bite +upon,--a country-instinct,--relic, no doubt, of the old +vegetable-feeding habits of Eden. Is that a stem or a straw? He picked +it up. It was a hair-pin. + +To say that Mr. Langdon had a strange sort of thrill shoot through him at +the sight of this harmless little implement would be a statement not at +variance with the fact of the case. That smooth stone had been often +trodden, and by what foot he could not doubt. He rose up from his seat to +look round for other signs of a woman's visits. What if there is a +cavern here, where she has a retreat, fitted up, perhaps, as anchorites +fitted their cells,--nay, it may be, carpeted and mirrored, and with one +of those tiger-skins for a couch, such as they, say the girl loves to lie +on? Let us look, at any rate. + +Mr. Bernard walked to the mouth of the cavern or fissure and looked into +it. His look was met by the glitter of two diamond eyes, small, sharp, +cold, shining out of the darkness, but gliding with a smooth, steady +motion towards the light, and himself. He stood fixed, struck dumb, +staring back into them with dilating pupils and sudden numbness of fear +that cannot move, as in the terror of dreams. The two sparks of light +came forward until they grew to circles of flame, and all at once lifted +themselves up as if in angry surprise. Then for the first time thrilled +in Mr. Bernard's ears the dreadful sound that nothing which breathes, be +it man or brute, can hear unmoved,--the long, loud, stinging whirr, as +the huge, thick bodied reptile shook his many-jointed rattle and adjusted +his loops for the fatal stroke. His eyes were drawn as with magnets +toward the circles of flame. His ears rung as in the overture to the +swooning dream of chloroform. Nature was before man with her +anaesthetics: the cat's first shake stupefies the mouse; the lion's first +shake deadens the man's fear and feeling; and the crotalus paralyzes +before he strikes. He waited as in a trance,--waited as one that longs +to have the blow fall, and all over, as the man who shall be in two +pieces in a second waits for the axe to drop. But while he looked +straight into the flaming eyes, it seemed to him that they were losing +their light and terror, that they were growing tame and dull; the charm +was dissolving, the numbness was passing away, he could move once more. +He heard a light breathing close to his ear, and, half turning, saw the +face of Elsie Venner, looking motionless into the reptile's eyes, which +had shrunk and faded under the stronger enchantment of her own. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +FAMILY SECRETS. + +It was commonly understood in the town of Rockland that Dudley Venner had +had a great deal of trouble with that daughter of his, so handsome, yet +so peculiar, about whom there were so many strange stories. There was no +end to the tales which were told of her extraordinary doings. Yet her +name was never coupled with that of any youth or man, until this cousin +had provoked remark by his visit; and even then it was oftener in the +shape of wondering conjectures whether he would dare to make love to her, +than in any pretended knowledge of their relations to each other, that +the public tongue exercised its village-prerogative of tattle. + +The more common version of the trouble at the mansion-house was this: +Elsie was not exactly in her right mind. Her temper was singular, her +tastes were anomalous, her habits were lawless, her antipathies were many +and intense, and she was liable to explosions of ungovernable anger. +Some said that was not the worst of it. At nearly fifteen years old, +when she was growing fast, and in an irritable state of mind and body, +she had had a governess placed over her for whom she had conceived an +aversion. It was whispered among a few who knew more of the family +secrets than others, that, worried and exasperated by the presence and +jealous oversight of this person, Elsie had attempted to get finally rid +of her by unlawful means, such as young girls have been known to employ +in their straits, and to which the sex at all ages has a certain +instinctive tendency, in preference to more palpable instruments for the +righting of its wrongs. At any rate, this governess had been taken +suddenly ill, and the Doctor had been sent for at midnight. Old Sophy +had taken her master into a room apart, and said a few words to him which +turned him as white as a sheet. As soon as he recovered himself, he sent +Sophy out, called in the old Doctor, and gave him some few hints, on +which he acted at once, and had the satisfaction of seeing his patient +out of danger before he left in the morning. It is proper to say, that, +during the following days, the most thorough search was made in every +nook and cranny of those parts of the house which Elsie chiefly haunted, +but nothing was found which might be accused of having been the +intentional cause of the probably accidental sudden illness of the +governess. From this time forward her father was never easy. Should he +keep her apart, or shut her up, for fear of risk to others, and so lose +every chance of restoring her mind to its healthy tone by kindly +influences and intercourse with wholesome natures? There was no proof, +only presumption, as to the agency of Elsie in the matter referred to. +But the doubt was worse, perhaps, than certainty would have been,--for +then he would have known what to do. + +He took the old Doctor as his adviser. The shrewd old man listened to +the father's story, his explanations of possibilities, of probabilities, +of dangers, of hopes. When he had got through, the Doctor looked him in +the face steadily, as if he were saying, Is that all? + +The father's eyes fell. This was not all. There was something at the +bottom of his soul which he could not bear to speak of,--nay, which, as +often as it reared itself through the dark waves of unworded +consciousness into the breathing air of thought, he trod down as the +ruined angels tread down a lost soul, trying to come up out of the +seething sea of torture. Only this one daughter! No! God never would +have ordained such a thing. There was nothing ever heard of like it; it +could not be; she was ill,--she would outgrow all these singularities; he +had had an aunt who was peculiar; he had heard that hysteric girls showed +the strangest forms of moral obliquity for a time, but came right at +last. She would change all at once, when her health got more firmly +settled in the course of her growth. Are there not rough buds that open +into sweet flowers? Are there not fruits, which, while unripe, are not +to be tasted or endured, which mature into the richest taste and +fragrance? In God's good time she would come to her true nature; her +eyes would lose that frightful, cold glitter; her lips would not feel so +cold when she pressed them against his cheek; and that faint birth-mark, +her mother swooned when she first saw, would fade wholly out,--it was +less marked, surely, now than it used to be! + +So Dudley Venner felt, and would have thought, if he had let his thoughts +breathe the air of his soul. But the Doctor read through words and +thoughts and all into the father's consciousness. There are states of +mind which may be shared by two persons in presence of each other, which +remain not only unworded, but unthoughted, if such a word may be coined +for our special need. Such a mutually interpenetrative consciousness +there was between the father and the old physician. By a common impulse, +both of them rose in a mechanical way and went to the western window, +where each started, as he saw the other's look directed towards the white +stone which stood in the midst of the small plot of green turf. + +The Doctor had, for a moment, forgotten himself but he looked up at the +clouds, which were angry, and said, as if speaking of the weather, "It is +dark now, but we hope it will clear up by and by. There are a great many +more clouds than rains, and more rains than strokes of lightning, and +more strokes of lightning than there are people killed. We must let this +girl of ours have her way, as far as it is safe. Send away this woman +she hates, quietly. Get her a foreigner for a governess, if you +can,--one that can dance and sing and will teach her. In the house old +Sophy will watch her best. Out of it you must trust her, I am +afraid,--for she will not be followed round, and she is in less danger +than you think. If she wanders at night, find her, if you can; the woods +are not absolutely safe. If she will be friendly with any young people, +have them to see her,--young men especially. She will not love any one +easily, perhaps not at all; yet love would be more like to bring her +right than anything else. If any young person seems in danger of falling +in love with her, send him to me for counsel." + +Dry, hard advice, but given from a kind hewn, with a moist eye, and in +tones which tried to be cheerful and were full of sympathy. This advice +was the key to the more than indulgent treatment which, as we have seen, +the girl had received from her father and all about her. The old Doctor +often came in, in the kindest, most natural sort of way, got into +pleasant relations with Elsie by always treating her in the same easy +manner as at the great party, encouraging all her harmless fancies, and +rarely reminding her that he was a professional adviser, except when she +came out of her own accord, as in the talk they had at the party, telling +him of some wild trick she had been playing. + +"Let her go to the girls' school, by all means," said the Doctor, when +she had begun to talk about it. "Possibly she may take to some of the +girls or of the teachers. Anything to interest her. Friendship, love, +religion, whatever will set her nature at work. We must have headway on, +or there will be no piloting her. Action first of all, and then we will +see what to do with it." + +So, when Cousin Richard came along, the Doctor, though he did not like +his looks any too well, told her father to encourage his staying for a +time. If she liked him, it was good; if she only tolerated him, it was +better than nothing. + +"You know something about that nephew of yours, during these last years, +I suppose?" the Doctor said. "Looks as if he had seen life. Has a scar +that was made by a sword-cut, and a white spot on the side of his neck +that looks like a bullet-mark. I think he has been what folks call a +'hard customer.'" + +Dudley Venner owned that he had heard little or nothing of him of late +years. He had invited himself, and of course it would not be decent not +to receive him as a relative. He thought Elsie rather liked having him +about the house for a while. She was very capricious,--acted as if she +fancied him one day and disliked him the next. He did not know,--but +sometimes thought that this nephew of his might take a serious liking to +Elsie. What should he do about it, if it turned out so? + +The Doctor lifted his eyebrows a little. He thought there was no fear. +Elsie was naturally what they call a man-hater, and there was very little +danger of any sudden passion springing up between two such young persons. +Let him stay awhile; it gives her something to think about. So he stayed +awhile, as we have seen. + +The more Mr. Richard became acquainted with the family,--that is, with +the two persons of whom it consisted,--the more favorably the idea of a +permanent residence in the mansion-house seemed to impress him. The +estate was large,--hundreds of acres, with woodlands and meadows of great +value. The father and daughter had been living quietly, and there could +not be a doubt that the property which came through the Dudleys must have +largely increased of late years. It was evident enough that they had an +abundant income, from the way in which Elsie's caprices were indulged. +She had horses and carriages to suit herself; she sent to the great city +for everything she wanted in the way of dress. Even her diamonds--and +the young man knew something about these gems--must be of considerable +value; and yet she wore them carelessly, as it pleased her fancy. She +had precious old laces, too, almost worth their weight in diamonds; laces +which had been snatched from altars in ancient Spanish cathedrals during +the wars, and which it would not be safe to leave a duchess alone with +for ten minutes. The old house was fat with the deposits of rich +generations which had gone before. The famous "golden" fire-set was a +purchase of one of the family who had been in France during the +Revolution, and must have come from a princely palace, if not from one of +the royal residences. As for silver, the iron closet which had been made +in the dining-room wall was running over with it: tea-kettles, +coffee-pots, heavy-lidded tankards, chafing-dishes, punch-bowls, all that +all the Dudleys had ever used, from the caudle-cup which used to be +handed round the young mother's chamber, and the porringer from which +children scooped their bread-and-milk with spoons as solid as ingots, to +that ominous vessel, on the upper shelf, far back in the dark, with a +spout like a slender italic S, out of which the sick and dying, all along +the last century, and since, had taken the last drops that passed their +lips. Without being much of a scholar, Dick could see well enough, too, +that the books in the library had been ordered from the great London +houses, whose imprint they bore, by persons who knew what was best and +meant to have it. A man does not require much learning to feel pretty +sure, when he takes one of those solid, smooth, velvet-leaved quartos, +say a Baskerville Addison, for instance, bound in red morocco, with a +margin of gold as rich as the embroidery of a prince's collar, as Vandyck +drew it,--he need not know much to feel pretty sure that a score or two +of shelves full of such books mean that it took a long purse, as well as +a literary taste, to bring them together. + +To all these attractions the mind of this thoughtful young gentleman may +be said to have been fully open. He did not disguise from himself, +however, that there were a number of drawbacks in the way of his becoming +established as the heir of the Dudley mansion-house and fortune. In the +first place, Cousin Elsie was, unquestionably, very piquant, very +handsome, game as a hawk, and hard to please, which made her worth trying +for. But then there was something about Cousin Elsie,--(the small, white +scars began stinging, as he said this to himself, and he pushed his +sleeve up to look at them)--there was something about Cousin Elsie he +couldn't make out. What was the matter with her eyes, that they sucked +your life out of you in that strange way? What did she always wear a +necklace for? Had she some such love-token on her neck as the old Don's +revolver had left on his? How safe would anybody feel to live with her? +Besides, her father would last forever, if he was left to himself. And +he may take it into his head to marry again. That would be pleasant! + +So talked Cousin Richard to himself, in the calm of the night and in the +tranquillity of his own soul. There was much to be said on both sides. +It was a balance to be struck after the two columns were added up. He +struck the balance, and came to the conclusion that he would fall in love +with Elsie Venner. + +The intelligent reader will not confound this matured and serious +intention of falling in love with the young lady with that mere impulse +of the moment before mentioned as an instance of making love. On the +contrary, the moment Mr. Richard had made up his mind that he should fall +in love with Elsie, he began to be more reserved with her, and to try to +make friends in other quarters. Sensible men, you know, care very little +what a girl's present fancy is. The question is: Who manages her, and +how can you get at that person or those persons? Her foolish little +sentiments are all very well in their way; but business is business, and +we can't stop for such trifles. The old political wire-pullers never go +near the man they want to gain, if they can help it; they find out who +his intimates and managers are, and work through them. Always handle any +positively electrical body, whether it is charged with passion or power, +with some non-conductor between you and it, not with your naked hands. +--The above were some of the young gentleman's working axioms; and he +proceeded to act in accordance with them. + +He began by paying his court more assiduously to his uncle. It was not +very hard to ingratiate himself in that quarter; for his manners were +insinuating, and his precocious experience of life made him entertaining. +The old neglected billiard--room was soon put in order, and Dick, who was +a magnificent player, had a series of games with his uncle, in which, +singularly enough, he was beaten, though his antagonist had been out of +play for years. He evinced a profound interest in the family history, +insisted on having the details of its early alliances, and professed a +great pride in it, which he had inherited from his father, who, though he +had allied himself with the daughter of an alien race, had yet chosen one +with the real azure blood in her veins, as proud as if she had Castile +and Aragon for her dower and the Cid for her grand-papa. He also asked a +great deal of advice, such as inexperienced young persons are in need of, +and listened to it with due reverence. + +It is not very strange that uncle Dudley took a kinder view of his nephew +than the Judge, who thought he could read a questionable history in his +face,--or the old Doctor, who knew men's temperaments and organizations +pretty well, and had his prejudices about races, and could tell an old +sword-cut and a ballet-mark in two seconds from a scar got by falling +against the fender, or a mark left by king's evil. He could not be +expected to share our own prejudices; for he had heard nothing of the +wild youth's adventures, or his scamper over the Pampas at short notice. +So, then, "Richard Venner, Esquire, guest of Dudley Venner, Esquire, at +his elegant mansion," prolonged his visit until his presence became +something like a matter of habit, and the neighbors began to think that +the fine old house would be illuminated before long for a grand marriage. + +He had done pretty well with the father: the next thing was to gain over +the nurse. Old Sophy was as cunning as a red fox or a gray woodchuck. +She had nothing in the world to do but to watch Elsie; she had nothing to +care for but this girl and her father. She had never liked Dick too +well; for he used to make faces at her and tease her when he was a boy, +and now he was a man there was something about him--she could not tell +what--that made her suspicious of him. It was no small matter to get her +over to his side. + +The jet-black Africans know that gold never looks so well as on the foil +of their dark skins. Dick found in his trunk a string of gold beads, +such as are manufactured in some of our cities, which he had brought from +the gold region of Chili,--so he said,--for the express purpose of giving +them to old Sophy. These Africans, too, have a perfect passion for +gay-colored clothing; being condemned by Nature, as it were, to a +perpetual mourning-suit, they love to enliven it with all sorts of +variegated stuffs of sprightly patterns, aflame with red and yellow. The +considerate young man had remembered this, too, and brought home for +Sophy some handkerchiefs of rainbow hues, which had been strangely +overlooked till now, at the bottom of one of his trunks. Old Sophy took +his gifts, but kept her black eyes open and watched every movement of the +young people all the more closely. It was through her that the father had +always known most of the actions and tendencies of his daughter. + +In the mean time the strange adventure on The Mountain had brought the +young master into new relations with Elsie. She had led him out of, +danger; perhaps saved him from death by the strange power she exerted. +He was grateful, and yet shuddered at the recollection of the whole +scene. In his dreams he was pursued by the glare of cold glittering +eyes, whether they were in the head of a woman or of a reptile he could +not always tell, the images had so run together. But he could not help +seeing that the eyes of the young girl had been often, very often, turned +upon him when he had been looking away, and fell as his own glance met +them. Helen Darley told him very plainly that this girl was thinking +about him more than about her book. Dick Venner found she was getting +more constant in her attendance at school. He learned, on inquiry, that +there was a new master, a handsome young man. The handsome young man +would not have liked the look that, came over Dick's face when he heard +this fact mentioned. + +In short, everything was getting tangled up together, and there would be +no chance of disentangling the threads in this chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +PHYSIOLOGICAL. + +If Master Bernard felt a natural gratitude to his young pupil for saving +him from an imminent peril, he was in a state of infinite perplexity to +know why he should have needed such aid. He, an active, muscular, +courageous, adventurous young fellow, with--a stick in his hand, ready to +hold down the Old Serpent himself, if he had come in his way, to stand +still, staring into those two eyes, until they came up close to him, and +the strange, terrible sound seemed to freeze him stiff where he +stood,--what was the meaning of it? Again, what was the influence this +girl had seemingly exerted, under which the venomous creature had +collapsed in such a sudden way? Whether he had been awake or dreaming he +did not feel quite sure. He knew he had gone up The Mountain, at any +rate; he knew he had come down The Mountain with the girl walking just +before him;--there was no forgetting her figure, as she walked on in +silence, her braided locks falling a little, for want of the lost +hairpin, perhaps, and looking like a wreathing coil of--Shame on such +fancies!--to wrong that supreme crowning gift of abounding Nature, a rush +of shining black hair, which, shaken loose, would cloud her all round, +like Godiva, from brow to instep! He was sure he had sat down before the +fissure or cave. He was sure that he was led softly away from the place, +and that it was Elsie who had led him. There was the hair-pin to show +that so far it was not a dream. But between these recollections came a +strange confusion; and the more the master thought, the more he was +perplexed to know whether she had waked him, sleeping, as he sat on the +stone, from some frightful dream, such as may come in a very brief +slumber, or whether she had bewitched him into a trance with those +strange eyes of hers, or whether it was all true, and he must solve its +problem as he best might. + +There was another recollection connected with this mountain adventure. +As they approached the mansion-house, they met a young man, whom Mr. +Bernard remembered having seen once at least before, and whom he had +heard of as a cousin of the young girl. As Cousin Richard Venner, the +person in question, passed them, he took the measure, so to speak, of Mr. +Bernard, with a look so piercing, so exhausting, so practised, so +profoundly suspicious, that the young master felt in an instant that he +had an enemy in this handsome youth,--an enemy, too, who was like to be +subtle and dangerous. + +Mr. Bernard had made up his mind, that, come what might, enemy or no +enemy, live or die, he would solve the mystery of Elsie Venner, sooner or +later. He was not a man to be frightened out of his resolution by a +scowl, or a stiletto, or any unknown means of mischief, of which a whole +armory was hinted at in that passing look Dick Venner had given him. +Indeed, like most adventurous young persons, he found a kind of charm in +feeling that there might be some dangers in the way of his +investigations. Some rumors which had reached him about the supposed +suitor of Elsie Venner, who was thought to be a desperate kind of fellow, +and whom some believed to be an unscrupulous adventurer, added a curious, +romantic kind of interest to the course of physiological and +psychological inquiries he was about instituting. + +The afternoon on The Mountain was still upper-most in his mind. Of +course he knew the common stories--about fascination. He had once been +himself an eyewitness of the charming of a small bird by one of our +common harmless serpents. Whether a human being could be reached by this +subtile agency, he had been skeptical, notwithstanding the mysterious +relation generally felt to exist between man and this creature, "cursed +above all cattle and above every beast of the field,"--a relation which +some interpret as the fruit of the curse, and others hold to be so +instinctive that this animal has been for that reason adopted as the +natural symbol of evil. There was another solution, however, supplied +him by his professional reading. The curious work of Mr. Braid of +Manchester had made him familiar with the phenomena of a state allied to +that produced by animal magnetism, and called by that writer by the name +of hypnotism. He found, by referring to his note-book, the statement +was, that, by fixing the eyes on a bright object so placed as to produce +a strain upon the eyes and eyelids, and to maintain a steady fixed stare, +there comes on in a few seconds a very singular condition, characterized +by muscular rigidity and inability to move, with a strange exaltation of +most of the senses, and generally a closure of the eyelids,--this +condition being followed by torpor. + +Now this statement of Mr. Braid's, well known to the scientific world, +and the truth of which had been confirmed by Mr. Bernard in certain +experiments he had instituted, as it has been by many other +experimenters, went far to explain the strange impressions, of which, +waking or dreaming, he had certainly been the subject. His nervous +system had been in a high state of exaltation at the time. He remembered +how the little noises that made rings of sound in the silence of the +woods, like pebbles dropped in still waters, had reached his inner +consciousness. He remembered that singular sensation in the roots of the +hair, when he came on the traces of the girl's presence, reminding him of +a line in a certain poem which he had read lately with a new and peculiar +interest. He even recalled a curious evidence of exalted sensibility and +irritability, in the twitching of the minute muscles of the internal ear +at every unexpected sound, producing an odd little snap in the middle of +the head, which proved to him that he was getting very nervous. + +The next thing was to find out whether it were possible that the venomous +creature's eyes should have served the purpose of Mr. Braid's "bright +object" held very close to the person experimented on, or whether they +had any special power which could be made the subject of exact +observation. + +For this purpose Mr. Bernard considered it necessary to get a live +crotalus or two into his possession, if this were possible. On inquiry, +he found that there was a certain family living far up the mountainside, +not a mile from the ledge, the members of which were said to have taken +these creatures occasionally, and not to be in any danger, or at least in +any fear, of being injured by them. He applied to these people, and +offered a reward sufficient to set them at work to capture some of these +animals, if such a thing were possible. + +A few days after this, a dark, gypsy-looking woman presented herself at +his door. She held up her apron as if it contained something precious in +the bag she made with it. + +"Y' wanted some rattlers," said the woman. "Here they be." + +She opened her apron and showed a coil of rattlesnakes lying very +peaceably in its fold. They lifted their heads up, as if they wanted to +see what was going on, but showed no sign of anger. + +"Are you crazy?" said Mr. Bernard. "You're dead in an hour, if one of +those creatures strikes you!" + +He drew back a little, as he spoke; it might be simple disgust; it might +be fear; it might be what we call antipathy, which is different from +either, and which will sometimes show itself in paleness, and even +faintness, produced by objects perfectly harmless and not in themselves +offensive to any sense. + +"Lord bless you," said the woman, "rattlers never touches our folks. I'd +jest 'z lieves handle them creaturs as so many striped snakes." + +So saying, she put their heads down with her hand, and packed them +together in her apron as if they had been bits of cart-rope. + +Mr. Bernard had never heard of the power, or, at least, the belief in the +possession of a power by certain persons, which enables them to handle +these frightful reptiles with perfect impunity. The fact, however, is +well known to others, and more especially to a very distinguished +Professor in one of the leading institutions of the great city of the +land, whose experiences in the neighborhood of Graylock, as he will +doubtless inform the curious, were very much like those of the young +master. + +Mr. Bernard had a wired cage ready for his formidable captives, and +studied their habits and expression with a strange sort of interest. What +did the Creator mean to signify, when he made such shapes of horror, and, +as if he had doubly cursed this envenomed wretch, had set a mark upon him +and sent him forth the Cain of the brotherhood of serpents? It was a +very curious fact that the first train of thoughts Mr. Bernard's small +menagerie suggested to him was the grave, though somewhat worn, subject +of the origin of evil. There is now to be seen in a tall glass jar, in +the Museum of Comparative Anatomy at Cantabridge in the territory of the +Massachusetts, a huge crotalus, of a species which grows to more +frightful dimensions than our own, under the hotter skies of South +America. Look at it, ye who would know what is the tolerance, the +freedom from prejudice, which can suffer such an incarnation of all that +is devilish to lie unharmed in the cradle of Nature! Learn, too, that +there are many things in this world which we are warned to shun, and are +even suffered to slay, if need be, but which we must not hate, unless we +would hate what God loves and cares for. + +Whatever fascination the creature might exercise in his native haunts, +Mr. Bernard found himself not in the least nervous or affected in any way +while looking at his caged reptiles. When their cage was shaken, they +would lift their heads and spring their rattles; but the sound was by no +means so formidable to listen to as when it reverberated among the chasms +of the echoing rocks. The expression of the creatures was watchful, +still, grave, passionless, fate-like, suggesting a cold malignity which +seemed to be waiting for its opportunity. Their awful, deep-cut mouths +were sternly closed over the long hollow fangs which rested their roots +against the swollen poison-gland, where the venom had been hoarding up +ever since the last stroke had emptied it. They never winked, for +ophidians have no movable eyelids, but kept up that awful fixed stare +which made the two unwinking gladiators the survivors of twenty pairs +matched by one of the Roman Emperors, as Pliny tells us, in his "Natural +History." Their eyes did not flash, but shone with a cold still light. +They were of a pale-golden or straw color, horrible to look into, with +their stony calmness, their pitiless indifference, hardly enlivened by +the almost imperceptible vertical slit of the pupil, through which Death +seemed to be looking out like the archer behind the long narrow loop-hole +in a blank turret-wall. On the whole, the caged reptiles, horrid as they +were, hardly matched his recollections of what he had seen or dreamed he +save at the cavern. These looked dangerous enough, but yet quiet. A +treacherous stillness, however,--as the unfortunate New York physician +found, when he put his foot out to wake up the torpid creature, and +instantly the fang flashed through his boot, carrying the poison into his +blood, and death with it. + +Mr. Bernard kept these strange creatures, and watched all their habits +with a natural curiosity. In any collection of animals the venomous +beasts are looked at with the greatest interest, just as the greatest +villains are most run after by the unknown public. Nobody troubles +himself for a common striped snake or a petty thief, but a cobra or a +wife-killer is a centre of attraction to all eyes. These captives did +very little to earn their living, but, on the other hand, their living +was not expensive, their diet being nothing but air, au naturel. Months +and months these creatures will live and seem to thrive well enough, as +any showman who has then in his menagerie will testify, though they never +touch anything to eat or drink. + +In the mean time Mr. Bernard had become very curious about a class of +subjects not treated of in any detail in those text-books accessible in +most country-towns, to the exclusion of the more special treatises, and +especially of the rare and ancient works found on the shelves of the +larger city-libraries. He was on a visit to old Dr. Kittredge one day, +having been asked by him to call in for a few moments as soon as +convenient. The Doctor smiled good-humoredly when he asked him if he had +an extensive collection of medical works. + +"Why, no," said the old Doctor, "I haven't got a great many printed +books; and what I have I don't read quite as often as I might, I'm +afraid. I read and studied in the time of it, when I was in the midst of +the young men who were all at work with their books; but it's a mighty +hard matter, when you go off alone into the country, to keep up with all +that's going on in the Societies and the Colleges. I'll tell you, though, +Mr. Langdon, when a man that's once started right lives among sick folks +for five-and-thirty years, as I've done, if he has n't got a library of +five-and-thirty volumes bound up in his head at the end of that time, +he'd better stop driving round and sell his horse and sulky. I know the +bigger part of the families within a dozen miles' ride. I know the +families that have a way of living through everything, and I know the +other set that have the trick of dying without any kind of reason for it. +I know the years when the fevers and dysenteries are in earnest, and when +they're only making believe. I know the folks that think they're dying +as soon as they're sick, and the folks that never find out they 're sick +till they're dead. I don't want to undervalue your science, Mr. Langdon. +There are things I never learned, because they came in after my day, and +I am very glad to send my patients to those that do know them, when I am +at fault; but I know these people about here, fathers and mothers, and +children and grandchildren, so as all the science in the world can't know +them, without it takes time about it, and sees them grow up and grow old, +and how the wear and tear of life comes to them. You can't tell a horse +by driving him once, Mr. Langdon, nor a patient by talking half an hour +with him." + +"Do you know much about the Veneer family?" said Mr. Bernard, in a +natural way enough, the Doctor's talk having suggested the question. + +The Doctor lifted his head with his accustomed movement, so as to command +the young man through his spectacles. + +"I know all the families of this place and its neighborhood," he +answered. + +"We have the young lady studying with us at the Institute," said Mr. +Bernard. + +"I know it," the Doctor answered. "Is she a good scholar?" + +All this time the Doctor's eyes were fixed steadily on Mr. Bernard, +looking through the glasses. + +"She is a good scholar enough, but I don't know what to make of her. +Sometimes I think she is a little out of her head. Her father, I +believe, is sensible enough;--what sort of a woman was her mother, +Doctor?--I suppose, of course, you remember all about her?" + +"Yes, I knew her mother. She was a very lovely young woman."--The Doctor +put his hand to his forehead and drew a long breath.--"What is there you +notice out of the way about Elsie Venner?" + +"A good many things," the master answered. "She shuns all the other +girls. She is getting a strange influence over my fellow-teacher, a +young lady,--you know Miss Helen Darley, perhaps? I am afraid this girl +will kill her. I never saw or heard of anything like it, in prose at +least;--do you remember much of Coleridge's Poems, Doctor?" + +The good old Doctor had to plead a negative. + +"Well, no matter. Elsie would have been burned for a witch in old times. +I have seen the girl look at Miss Darley when she had not the least idea +of it, and all at once I would see her grow pale and moist, and sigh, and +move round uneasily, and turn towards Elsie, and perhaps get up and go to +her, or else have slight spasmodic movements that looked like +hysterics;--do you believe in the evil eye, Doctor?" + +"Mr. Langdon," the Doctor said, solemnly, "there are strange things about +Elsie Veneer,--very strange things. This was what I wanted to speak to +you about. Let me advise you all to be very patient with the girl, but +also very careful. Her love is not to be desired, and "--he spoke in a +lower tone--"her hate is to be dreaded. Do you think she has any special +fancy for anybody else in the school besides Miss Darley?" + +Mr. Bernard could not stand the old Doctor's spectacled eyes without +betraying a little of the feeling natural to a young man to whom a home +question involving a possible sentiment is put suddenly. + +"I have suspected," he said,--"I have had a kind of feeling--that +she--Well, come, Doctor,--I don't know that there 's any use in +disguising the matter,--I have thought Elsie Veneer had rather a fancy +for somebody else,--I mean myself." + +There was something so becoming in the blush with which the young man +made this confession, and so manly, too, in the tone with which he spoke, +so remote from any shallow vanity, such as young men who are incapable of +love are apt to feel, when some loose tendril of a woman's fancy which a +chance wind has blown against them twines about them for the want of +anything better, that the old Doctor looked at him admiringly, and could +not help thinking that it was no wonder any young girl should be pleased +with him. + +"You are a man of nerve, Mr. Langdon?" said the Doctor. + +"I thought so till very lately," he replied. "I am not easily +frightened, but I don't know but I might be bewitched or magnetized, or +whatever it is when one is tied up and cannot move. I think I can find +nerve enough, however, if there is any special use you want to put it +to." + +"Let me ask you one more question, Mr. Langdon. Do you find yourself +disposed to take a special interest in Elsie,--to fall in love with her, +in a word? Pardon me, for I do not ask from curiosity, but a much more +serious motive." + +"Elsie interests me," said the young man, "interests me strangely. She +has a wild flavor in her character which is wholly different from that of +any human creature I ever saw. She has marks of genius, poetic or +dramatic,--I hardly know which. She read a passage from Keats's 'Lamia' +the other day, in the schoolroom, in such a way that I declare to you I +thought some of the girls would faint or go into fits. Miss Darley got +up and left the room, trembling all over. Then, I pity her, she is so +lonely. The girls are afraid of her, and she seems to have either a +dislike or a fear of them. They have all sorts of painful stories about +her. They give her a name which no human creature ought to bear. They +say she hides a mark on her neck by always wearing a necklace. She is +very graceful, you know, and they will have it that she can twist herself +into all sorts of shapes, or tie herself in a knot, if she wants to. +There is not one of them that will look her in the eyes. I pity the poor +girl; but, Doctor, I do not love her. I would risk my life for her, if +it would do her any good, but it would be in cold blood. If her hand +touches mine, it is not a thrill of passion I feel running through me, +but a very different emotion. Oh, Doctor! there must be something in +that creature's blood which has killed the humanity in her. God only +knows the cause that has blighted such a soul in so beautiful a body! No, +Doctor, I do not love the girl." + +"Mr. Langdon," said the Doctor, "you are young, and I am old. Let me +talk to you with an old man's privilege, as an adviser. You have come to +this country-town without suspicion, and you are moving in the midst of +perils. There are things which I must not tell you now; but I may warn +you. Keep your eyes open and your heart shut. If, through pitying that +girl, you ever come to love her, you are lost. If you deal carelessly +with her, beware! This is not all. There are other eyes on you beside +Elsie Venner's. Do you go armed?" + +"I do!" said Mr. Bernard,--and he "put his hands up" in the shape of +fists, in such a way as to show that he was master of the natural weapons +at any rate. + +The Doctor could not help smiling. But his face fell in an instant. + +"You may want something more than those tools to work with. Come with me +into my sanctum." + +The Doctor led Mr. Bernard into a small room opening out of the study. +It was a place such as anybody but a medical man would shiver to enter. +There was the usual tall box with its bleached, rattling tenant; there +were jars in rows where "interesting cases" outlived the grief of widows +and heirs in alcoholic immortality,--for your "preparation-jar" is the +true "monumentum aere perennius;" there were various semi-possibilities +of minute dimensions and unpromising developments; there were shining +instruments of evil aspect, and grim plates on the walls, and on one +shelf by itself, accursed and apart, coiled in a long cylinder of spirit, +a huge crotalus, rough-scaled, flatheaded, variegated with dull bands, +one of which partially encircled the neck like a collar,--an awful wretch +to look upon, with murder written all over him in horrid hieroglyphics. +Mr. Bernard's look was riveted on this creature,--not fascinated +certainly, for its eyes looked like white beads, being clouded by the +action of the spirits in which it had been long kept,--but fixed by some +indefinite sense of the renewal of a previous impression;--everybody +knows the feeling, with its suggestion of some past state of existence. +There was a scrap of paper on the jar, with something written on it. He +was reaching up to read it when the Doctor touched him lightly. + +"Look here, Mr. Langdon!" he said, with a certain vivacity of manner, as +if wishing to call away his attention,--"this is my armory." + +The Doctor threw open the door of a small cabinet, where were disposed in +artistic patterns various weapons of offence and defence,--for he was a +virtuoso in his way, and by the side of the implements of the art of +healing had pleased himself with displaying a collection of those other +instruments, the use of which renders the first necessary. + +"See which of these weapons you would like best to carry about you," said +the Doctor. + +Mr. Bernard laughed, and looked at the Doctor as if he half doubted +whether he was in earnest. + +"This looks dangerous enough," he said,--"for the man who carries it, at +least." + +He took down one of the prohibited Spanish daggers or knives which a +traveller may, occasionally get hold of and smuggle out of the country. +The blade was broad, trowel-like, but the point drawn out several inches, +so as to look like a skewer. + +"This must be a jealous bull-fighter's weapon," he said, and put it back +in its place. + +Then he took down an ancient-looking broad-bladed dagger, with a complex +aspect about it, as if it had some kind of mechanism connected with it. + +"Take care!" said the Doctor; "there is a trick to that dagger." + +He took it and touched a spring. The dagger split suddenly into three +blades, as when one separates the forefinger and the ring-finger from the +middle one. The outside blades were sharp on their outer edge. The stab +was to be made with the dagger shut, then the spring touched and the +split blades withdrawn. + +Mr. Bernard replaced it, saying, that it would have served for sidearm to +old Suwarrow, who told his men to work their bayonets back and forward +when they pinned a Turk, but to wriggle them about in the wound when they +stabbed a Frenchman. + +"Here," said the Doctor, "this is the thing you want." + +He took down a much more modern and familiar implement,--a small, +beautifully finished revolver. + +"I want you to carry this," he said; "and more than that, I want you to +practise with it often, as for amusement, but so that it maybe seen and +understood that you are apt to have a pistol about you. Pistol-shooting +is pleasant sport enough, and there is no reason why you should not +practise it like other young fellows. And now," the Doctor said, "I have +one other, weapon to give you." + +He took a small piece of parchment and shook a white powder into it from +one of his medicine-jars. The jar was marked with the name of a mineral +salt, of a nature to have been serviceable in case of sudden illness in +the time of the Borgias. The Doctor folded the parchment carefully, and +marked the Latin name of the powder upon it. + +"Here," he said, handing it to Mr. Bernard, "you see what it is, and you +know what service it can render. Keep these two protectors about your +person day and night; they will not harm you, and you may want one or the +other or both before you think of it." + +Mr. Bernard thought it was very odd, and not very old-gentlemanlike, to +be fitting him out for treason, stratagem, and spoils, in this way. +There was no harm, however, in carrying a doctor's powder in his pocket, +or in amusing himself with shooting at a mark, as he had often done +before. If the old gentleman had these fancies, it was as well to humor +him. + +So he thanked old Doctor Kittredge, and shook his hand warmly as he left +him. + +"The fellow's hand did not tremble, nor his color change," the Doctor +said, as he watched him walking away. "He is one of the right sort." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +EPISTOLARY. + +Mr. Langdon to the Professor. + +MY DEAR PROFESSOR, You were kind enough to promise me that you would +assist me in any professional or scientific investigations in which I +might become engaged. I have of late become deeply interested in a class +of subjects which present peculiar difficulty, and I must exercise the +privilege of questioning you on some points upon which I desire +information I cannot otherwise obtain. I would not trouble you, if I +could find any person or books competent to enlighten me on some of these +singular matters which have so excited me. The leading doctor here is a +shrewd, sensible man, but not versed in the curiosities of medical +literature. + +I proceed, with your leave, to ask a considerable number of +questions,--hoping to get answers to some of them, at least. + +Is there any evidence that human beings can be infected or wrought upon +by poisons, or otherwise, so that they shall manifest any of the +peculiarities belonging to beings of a lower nature? Can such +peculiarities--be transmitted by inheritance? Is there anything to +countenance the stories, long and widely current, about the "evil eye"? +or is it a mere fancy that such a power belongs to any human being? Have +you any personal experience as to the power of fascination said to be +exercised by certain animals? What can you make of those circumstantial +statements we have seen in the papers, of children forming mysterious +friendships with ophidians of different species, sharing their food with +them, and seeming to be under some subtile influence exercised by those +creatures? Have you read, critically, Coleridge's poem of "Christabel," +and Keats's "Lamia"?--If so, can you understand them, or find any +physiological foundation for the story of either? + +There is another set of questions of a different nature I should like to +ask, but it is hardly fair to put so many on a single sheet. There is +one, however, you must answer. Do you think there may be +predispositions, inherited or ingrafted, but at any rate constitutional, +which shall take out certain apparently voluntary determinations from the +control of the will, and leave them as free from moral responsibility as +the instincts of the lower animals? Do you not think there may be a +crime which is not a sin? + +Pardon me, my dear Sir, for troubling you with such a list of notes of +interrogation. There are some very strange things going on here in this +place, country-town as it is. Country-life is apt to be dull; but when +it once gets going, it beats the city hollow, because it gives its whole +mind to what it is about. These rural sinners make terrible work with +the middle of the Decalogue, when they get started. However, I hope I +shall live through my year's school-keeping without catastrophes, though +there are queer doings about me which puzzle me and might scare some +people. If anything should happen, you will be one of the first to hear +of it, no doubt. But I trust not to help out the editors of the +"Rockland Weekly Universe" with an obituary of the late lamented, who +signed himself in life-- + +Your friend and pupil, +BERNARD C. LANGDON. + + +The Professor to Mr. Langdon. + +MY DEAR MR. LANGDON, I do not wonder that you find no answer from your +country friends to the curious questions you put. They belong to that +middle region between science and poetry which sensible men, as they are +called, are very shy of meddling with. Some people think that truth and +gold are always to be washed for; but the wiser sort are of opinion, +that, unless there are so many grains to the peck of sand or nonsense +respectively, it does not pay to wash for either, so long as one can find +anything else to do. I don't doubt there is some truth in the phenomena +of animal magnetism, for instance; but when you ask me to cradle for it, +I tell you that the hysteric girls cheat so, and the professionals are +such a set of pickpockets, that I can do something better than hunt for +the grains of truth among their tricks and lies. Do you remember what I +used to say in my lectures?--or were you asleep just then, or cutting +your initials on the rail? (You see I can ask questions, my young +friend.) Leverage is everything,--was what I used to say;--don't begin to +pry till you have got the long arm on your side. + +To please you, and satisfy your doubts as far as possible, I have looked +into the old books,--into Schenckius and Turner and Kenelm. Digby and the +rest, where I have found plenty of curious stories which you must take +for what they are worth. + +Your first question I can answer in the affirmative upon pretty good +authority. Mizaldus tells, in his "Memorabilia," the well-known story of +the girl fed on poisons, who was sent by the king of the Indies to +Alexander the Great. "When Aristotle saw her eyes sparkling and snapping +like those of serpents, he said, 'Look out for yourself, Alexander! this +is a dangerous companion for you!'"--and sure enough, the young lady +proved to be a very unsafe person to her friends. Cardanus gets a story +from Avicenna, of a certain man bit by a serpent, who recovered of his +bite, the snake dying therefrom. This man afterwards had a daughter whom +venomous serpents could not harm, though she had a fatal power over them. + +I suppose you may remember the statements of old authors about +Zycanthropy, the disease in which men took on the nature and aspect of +wolves. Actius and Paulus, both men of authority, describe it. Altomaris +gives a horrid case; and Fincelius mentions one occurring as late as +1541, the subject of which was captured, still insisting that he was a +wolf, only that the hair of his hide was turned in! Versipelles, it may +be remembered, was the Latin name for these "were-wolves." + +As for the cases where rabid persons have barked and bit like dogs, there +are plenty of such on record. + +More singular, or at least more rare, is the account given by Andreas +Baccius, of a man who was struck in the hand by a cock, with his beak, +and who died on the third day thereafter, looking for all the world like +a fighting-cock, to the great horror of the spectators. + +As to impressions transmitted at a very early period of existence, every +one knows the story of King James's fear of a naked sword, and the way it +is accounted for. Sir Kenelm Digby says,--"I remember when he dubbed me +Knight, in the ceremony of putting the point of a naked sword upon my +shoulder, he could not endure to look upon it, but turned his face +another way, insomuch, that, in lieu of touching my shoulder, he had +almost thrust the point into my eyes, had not the Duke of Buckingham +guided his hand aright." It is he, too, who tells the story of the +mulberry mark upon the neck of a certain lady of high condition, which +"every year, to mulberry season, did swell, grow big, and itch." And +Gaffarel mentions the case of a girl born with the figure of a fish on +one of her limbs, of which the wonder was, that, when the girl did eat +fish, this mark put her to sensible pain. But there is no end to cases +of this kind, and I could give some of recent date, if necessary, lending +a certain plausibility at least to the doctrine of transmitted +impressions. + +I never saw a distinct case of evil eye, though I have seen eyes so bad +that they might produce strange effects on very sensitive natures. But +the belief in it under various names, fascination, jettcztura, etc., is +so permanent and universal, from Egypt to Italy, and from the days of +Solomon to those of Ferdinand of Naples, that there must be some +peculiarity, to say the least, on which the opinion is based. There is +very strong evidence that some such power is exercised by certain of the +lower animals. Thus, it is stated on good authority that "almost every +animal becomes panic-struck at the sight of the rattlesnake, and seems at +once deprived of the power of motion, or the exercise of its usual +instinct of self-preservation." Other serpents seem to share this power +of fascination, as the Cobra and the Buccephalus Capensis. + +Some think that it is nothing but fright; others attribute it to the + + "strange powers that lie + Within the magic circle of the eye,"-- + +as Churchill said, speaking of Garrick. + +You ask me about those mysterious and frightful intimacies between +children and serpents, of which so many instances have been recorded. I +am sure I cannot tell what to make of them. I have seen several such +accounts in recent papers, but here is one published in the seventeenth +century, which is as striking as any of the more modern ones: + +"Mr. Herbert Tones of Monmouth, when he was a little Boy, was used to eat +his Milk in a Garden in the Morning, and was no sooner there, but a large +Snake always came, and eat out of the Dish with him, and did so for a +considerable time, till one Morning, he striking the Snake on the Head, +it hissed at him. Upon which he told his Mother that the Baby (for so he +call'd it) cry'd Hiss at him. His Mother had it kill'd, which occasioned +him a great Fit of Sickness, and 'twas thought would have dy'd, but did +recover." + +There was likewise one "William Writtle, condemned at Maidston Assizes +for a double murder, told a Minister that was with him after he was +condemned, that his mother told him, that when he was a Child, there +crept always to him a Snake, wherever she laid him. Sometimes she would +convey him up Stairs, and leave him never so little, she should be sure +to find a Snake in the Cradle with him, but never perceived it did him +any harm." + +One of the most striking alleged facts connected with the mysterious +relation existing between the serpent and-the human species is the +influence which the poison of the Crotulus, taken internally, seemed to +produce over the moral faculties, in the experiments instituted by Dr. +Hering at Surinam. There is something frightful in the disposition of +certain ophidians, as the whipsnake, which darts at the eyes of cattle +without any apparent provocation or other motive. It is natural enough +that the evil principle should have been represented in the form of a +serpent, but it is strange to think of introducing it into a human being +like cow-pox by vaccination. + +You know all about the Psylli, or ancient serpent tamers, I suppose. +Savary gives an account of the modern serpent-tamers in his "Letters on +Egypt." These modern jugglers are in the habit of making the venomous +Naja counterfeit death, lying out straight and stiff, changing it into a +rod, as the ancient magicians did with their serpents, (probably the same +animal,) in the time of Moses. + +I am afraid I cannot throw much light on "Christabel" or "Lamia" by any +criticism I can offer. Geraldine, in the former, seems to be simply a +malignant witch-woman with the evil eye, but with no absolute ophidian +relationship. Lamia is a serpent transformed by magic into a woman. The +idea of both is mythological, and not in any sense physiological. Some +women unquestionably suggest the image of serpents; men rarely or never. +I have been struck, like many others, with the ophidian head and eye of +the famous Rachel. + +Your question about inherited predispositions, as limiting the sphere of +the will, and, consequently, of moral accountability, opens a very wide +range of speculation. I can give you only a brief abstract of my own +opinions on this delicate and difficult subject. Crime and sin, being +the preserves of two great organized interests, have been guarded against +all reforming poachers with as great jealousy as the Royal Forests. It +is so easy to hang a troublesome fellow! It is so much simpler to +consign a soul to perdition, or say masses, for money, to save it, than +to take the blame on ourselves for letting it grow up in neglect and run +to ruin for want of humanizing influences! They hung poor, crazy +Bellingham for shooting Mr. Perceval. The ordinary of Newgate preached +to women who were to swing at Tyburn for a petty theft as if they were +worse than other people,--just as though he would not have been a +pickpocket or shoplifter, himself, if he had been born in a den of +thieves and bred up to steal or starve! The English law never began to +get hold of the idea that a crime was not necessarily a sin, till +Hadfield, who thought he was the Saviour of mankind, was tried for +shooting at George the Third;--lucky for him that he did not hit his +Majesty! + +It is very singular that we recognize all the bodily defects that unfit a +man for military service, and all the intellectual ones that limit his +range of thought, but always talk at him as if all his moral powers were +perfect. I suppose we must punish evil-doers as we extirpate vermin; but +I don't know that we have any more right to judge them than we have to +judge rats and mice, which are just as good as cats and weasels, though +we think it necessary to treat them as criminals. + +The limitations of human responsibility have never been properly studied, +unless it be by the phrenologists. You know from my lectures that I +consider phrenology, as taught, a pseudo-science, and not a branch of +positive knowledge; but, for all that, we owe it an immense debt. It has +melted the world's conscience in its crucible, and cast it in a new +mould, with features less like those of Moloch and more like those of +humanity. If it has failed to demonstrate its system of special +correspondences, it has proved that there are fixed relations between +organization and mind and character. It has brought out that great +doctrine of moral insanity, which has done more to make men charitable +and soften legal and theological barbarism than any one doctrine that I +can think of since the message of peace and good-will to men. + +Automatic action in the moral world; the reflex movement which seems to +be self-determination, and has been hanged and howled at as such +(metaphorically) for nobody knows how many centuries: until somebody +shall study this as Marshall Hall has studied reflex nervous action in +the bodily system, I would not give much for men's judgments of each +others' characters. Shut up the robber and the defaulter, we must. But +what if your oldest boy had been stolen from his cradle and bred in a +North-Street cellar? What if you are drinking a little too much wine and +smoking a little too much tobacco, and your son takes after you, and so +your poor grandson's brain being a little injured in physical texture, he +loses the fine moral sense on which you pride yourself, and doesn't see +the difference between signing another man's name to a draft and his own? + +I suppose the study of automatic action in the moral world (you see what +I mean through the apparent contradiction of terms) may be a dangerous +one in the view of many people. It is liable to abuse, no doubt. People +are always glad to, get hold of anything which limits their +responsibility. But remember that our moral estimates come down to us +from ancestors who hanged children for stealing forty shillings' worth, +and sent their souls to perdition for the sin of being born,--who +punished the unfortunate families of suicides, and in their eagerness for +justice executed one innocent person every three years, on the average, +as Sir James Mackintosh tells us. + +I do not know in what shape the practical question may present itself to +you; but I will tell you my rule in life, and I think you will find it a +good one. Treat bad men exactly as if they were insane. They are +in-sane, out of health, morally. Reason, which is food to sound minds, +is not tolerated, still less assimilated, unless administered with the +greatest caution; perhaps, not at all. Avoid collision with them, so far +as you honorably can; keep your temper, if you can,--for one angry man is +as good as another; restrain them from violence, promptly, completely, +and with the least possible injury, just as in the case of maniacs,--and +when you have got rid of them, or got them tied hand and foot so that +they can do no mischief, sit down and contemplate them charitably, +remembering that nine tenths of their' perversity comes from outside +influences, drunken ancestors, abuse in childhood, bad company, from +which you have happily been preserved, and for some of which you, as a +member of society, may be fractionally responsible. I think also that +there are special influences which work in the brood lake ferments, and I +have a suspicion that some of those curious old stories I cited may have +more recent parallels. Have you ever met with any cases which admitted +of a solution like that which I have mentioned? + +Yours very truly, +_____________ _____________ + + Bernard Langdon to Philip Staples. +MY DEAR PHILIP,-- + +I have been for some months established in this place, turning the main +crank of the machinery for the manufactory of accomplishments +superintended by, or rather worked to the profit of, a certain Mr. Silas +Peckham. He is a poor wretch, with a little thin fishy blood in his +body, lean and flat, long-armed and large-handed, thick-jointed and +thin-muscled,--you know those unwholesome, weak-eyed, half-fed creatures, +that look not fit to be round among live folks, and yet not quite dead +enough to bury. If you ever hear of my being in court to answer to a +charge of assault and battery, you may guess that I have been giving him +a thrashing to settle off old scores; for he is a tyrant, and has come +pretty near killing his principal lady-assistant with overworking her and +keeping her out of all decent privileges. + +Helen Darley is this lady's name,--twenty two or three years old, I +should think,--a very sweet, pale woman,--daughter of the usual +country-clergyman,--thrown on her own resources from an early age, and +the rest: a common story, but an uncommon person,--very. All conscience +and sensibility, I should say,--a cruel worker,--no kind of regard for +herself, seems as fragile and supple as a young willow-shoot, but try her +and you find she has the spring in her of a steel cross-bow. I am glad I +happened to come to this place, if it were only for her sake. I have +saved that girl's life; I am as sure of it as if I had pulled her out of +the fire or water. + +Of course I'm in love with her, you say,--we always love those whom we +have benefited; "saved her life,--her love was the reward of his +devotion," etc., etc., as in a regular set novel. In love, Philip? Well, +about that,--I love Helen Darley--very much: there is hardly anybody I +love so well. What a noble creature she is! One of those that just go +right on, do their own work and everybody else's, killing themselves inch +by inch without ever thinking about it,--singing and dancing at their +toil when they begin, worn and saddened after a while, but pressing +steadily on, tottering by and by, and catching at the rail by the +way-side to help them lift one foot before the other, and at last +falling, face down, arms stretched forward. + +Philip, my boy, do you know I am the sort of man that locks his door +sometimes and cries his heart out of his eyes,--that can sob like a woman +and not be ashamed of it? I come of fighting-blood on one side, you +know; I think I could be savage on occasion. But I am tender,--more and +more tender as I come into my fulness of manhood. I don't like to strike +a man, (laugh, if you like,--I know I hit hard when I do strike,)--but +what I can't stand is the sight of these poor, patient, toiling women, +who never find out in this life how good they are, and never know what it +is to be told they are angels while they still wear the pleasing +incumbrances of humanity. I don't know what to make of these cases. To +think that a woman is never to be a woman again, whatever she may come to +as an unsexed angel,--and that she should die unloved! Why does not +somebody come and carry off this noble woman, waiting here all ready to +make a man happy? Philip, do you know the pathos there is in the eyes of +unsought women, oppressed with the burden of an inner life unshared? I +can see into them now as I could not in those 'earlier days. I sometimes +think their pupils dilate on purpose to let my consciousness glide +through them; indeed, I dread them, I come so close to the nerve of the +soul itself in these momentary intimacies. You used to tell me I was a +Turk,--that my heart was full of pigeon-holes, with accommodations inside +for a whole flock of doves. I don't know but I am still as Youngish as +ever in my ways,--Brigham-Youngish, I mean; at any rate, T. always want +to give a little love to all the poor things that cannot have a whole man +to themselves. If they would only be contented with a little! + +Here now are two girls in this school where I am teaching. One of them, +Rosa M., is not more than sixteen years old, I think they say; but Nature +has forced her into a tropical luxuriance of beauty, as if it were July +with her, instead of May. I suppose it is all natural enough that this +girl should like a young man's attention, even if he were a grave +schoolmaster; but the eloquence of this young thing's look is +unmistakable,--and yet she does not know the language it is +talking,--they none of them do; and there is where a good many poor +creatures of our good-for-nothing sex are mistaken. There is no danger +of my being rash, but I think this girl will cost somebody his life yet. +She is one of those women men make a quarrel about and fight to the death +for,--the old feral instinct, you know. + +Pray, don't think I am lost in conceit, but there is another girl here +who I begin to think looks with a certain kindness on me. Her name is +Elsie V., and she is the only daughter and heiress of an old family in +this place. She is a portentous and almost fearful creature. If I +should tell you all I know and half of what I fancy about her, you would +tell me to get my life insured at once. Yet she is the most painfully +interesting being,--so handsome! so lonely!--for she has no friends +among the girls, and sits apart from them,--with black hair like the +flow of a mountain-brook after a thaw, with a low-browed, scowling beauty +of face, and such eyes as were never seen before, I really believe, in +any human creature. + +Philip, I don't know what to say about this Elsie. There is something +about her I have not fathomed. I have conjectures which I could not +utter to any living soul. I dare not even hint the possibilities which +have suggested themselves to me. This I will say, that I do take the +most intense interest in this young person, an interest much more like +pity than love in its common sense. If what I guess at is true, of all +the tragedies of existence I ever knew this is the saddest, and yet so +full of meaning! Do not ask me any questions,--I have said more than I +meant to already; but I am involved in strange doubts and +perplexities,--in dangers too, very possibly,--and it is a relief just to +speak ever so guardedly of them to an early and faithful friend. + +Yours ever, BERNARD. + +P. S. I remember you had a copy of Fortunius Licetus' "De Monstris" +among your old books. Can't you lend it to me for a while? I am +curious, and it will amuse me. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +OLD SOPHY CALLS ON THE REVEREND DOCTOR. + +The two meeting-houses which faced each other like a pair of +fighting-cocks had not flapped their wings or crowed at each other for a +considerable time. The Reverend Mr. Fairweather had been dyspeptic and +low-spirited of late, and was too languid for controversy. The Reverend +Doctor Honeywood had been very busy with his benevolent associations, and +had discoursed chiefly on practical matters, to the neglect of special +doctrinal subjects. His senior deacon ventured to say to him that some +of his people required to be reminded of the great fundamental doctrine +of the worthlessness of all human efforts and motives. Some of them were +altogether too much pleased with the success of the Temperance Society +and the Association for the Relief of the Poor. There was a pestilent +heresy about, concerning the satisfaction to be derived from a good +conscience, as if, anybody ever did anything which was not to be hated, +loathed, despised, and condemned. + +The old minister listened gravely, with an inward smile, and told his +deacon that he would attend to his suggestion. After the deacon had +gone, he tumbled over his manuscripts, until at length he came upon his +first-rate old sermon on "Human Nature." He had read a great deal of +hard theology, and had at last reached that curious state which is so +common in good ministers,--that, namely, in which they contrive to switch +off their logical faculties on the narrow sidetrack of their technical +dogmas, while the great freight-train of their substantial human +qualities keeps in the main highway of common-sense, in which kindly +souls are always found by all who approach them by their human side. + +The Doctor read his sermon with a pleasant, paternal interest: it was +well argued from his premises. Here and there he dashed his pen through +a harsh expression. Now and then he added an explanation or qualified +abroad statement. But his mind was on the logical side-track, and he +followed the chain of reasoning without fairly perceiving where it would +lead him, if he carried it into real life. + +He was just touching up the final proposition, when his granddaughter, +Letty, once before referred to, came into the room with her smiling face +and lively movement. Miss Letty or Letitia Forrester was a city-bred +girl of some fifteen or sixteen years old, who was passing the summer +with her grandfather for the sake of country air and quiet. It was a +sensible arrangement; for, having the promise of figuring as a belle by +and by, and being a little given to dancing, and having a voice which +drew a pretty dense circle around the piano when she sat down to play and +sing, it was hard to keep her from being carried into society before her +time, by the mere force of mutual attraction. Fortunately, she had some +quiet as well as some social tastes, and was willing enough to pass two +or three of the summer months in the country, where she was much better +bestowed than she would have been at one of those watering-places where +so many half-formed girls get prematurely hardened in the vice of +self-consciousness. + +Miss Letty was altogether too wholesome, hearty, and high-strung a young +girl to be a model, according to the flat-chested and cachectic pattern +which is the classical type of certain excellent young females, often the +subjects of biographical memoirs. But the old minister was proud of his +granddaughter for all that. She was so full of life, so graceful, so +generous, so vivacious, so ready always to do all she could for him and +for everybody, so perfectly frank in her avowed delight in the pleasures +which this miserable world offered her in the shape of natural beauty, of +poetry, of music, of companionship, of books, of cheerful cooperation in +the tasks of those about her, that the Reverend Doctor could not find it +in his heart to condemn her because she was deficient in those particular +graces and that signal other-worldliness he had sometimes noticed in +feeble young persons suffering from various chronic diseases which +impaired their vivacity and removed them from the range of temptation. + +When Letty, therefore, came bounding into the old minister's study, he +glanced up from his manuscript, and, as his eye fell upon her, it flashed +across him that there was nothing so very monstrous and unnatural about +the specimen of congenital perversion he was looking at, with his +features opening into their pleasantest sunshine. Technically, according +to the fifth proposition of the sermon on Human Nature, very bad, no +doubt. Practically, according to the fact before him, a very pretty +piece of the Creator's handiwork, body and soul. Was it not a +conceivable thing that the divine grace might show itself in different +forms in a fresh young girl like Letitia, and in that poor thing he had +visited yesterday, half-grown, half-colored, in bed for the last year +with hip-disease? + +Was it to be supposed that this healthy young girl, with life throbbing +all over her, could, without a miracle, be good according to the invalid +pattern and formula? + +And yet there were mysteries in human nature which pointed to some +tremendous perversion of its tendencies,--to some profound, radical vice +of moral constitution, native or transmitted, as you will have it, but +positive, at any rate, as the leprosy, breaking out in the blood of +races, guard them ever so carefully. Did he not know the case of a young +lady in Rockland, daughter of one of the first families in the place, a +very beautiful and noble creature to look at, for whose bringing up +nothing had been spared,--a girl who had had governesses to teach her at +the house, who had been indulged almost too kindly,--a girl whose father +had given himself, up to her, he being himself a pure and high-souled +man?--and yet this girl was accused in whispers of having been on the +very verge of committing a fatal crime; she was an object of fear to all +who knew the dark hints which had been let fall about her, and there were +some that believed--Why, what was this but an instance of the total +obliquity and degeneration of the moral principle? and to what could it +be owing, but to an innate organic tendency? + +"Busy, grandpapa?" said Letty, and without waiting for an answer kissed +his cheek with a pair of lips made on purpose for that little +function,--fine, but richly turned out, the corners tucked in with a +finish of pretty dimples, the rose-bud lips of girlhood's June. + +The old gentleman looked at his granddaughter. Nature swelled up from +his heart in a wave that sent a glow to his cheek and a sparkle to his +eye. But it is very hard to be interrupted just as we are winding up a +string of propositions with the grand conclusion which is the statement +in brief of all that has gone before: our own starting-point, into which +we have been trying to back our reader or listener as one backs a, horse +into the shafts. + +"Video meliora, proboque,--I see the better, and approve it; deteriora +sequor, I follow after the worse; 't is that natural dislike to what is +good, pure, holy, and true, that inrooted selfishness, totally insensible +to the claims of"-- + +Here the worthy man was interrupted by Miss Letty. + +"Do come, if you can, grandpapa," said the young girl; "here is a poor +old black woman wants to see you so much!" + +The good minister was as kind-hearted as if he had never groped in the +dust and ashes of those cruel old abstractions which have killed out so +much of the world's life and happiness. "With the heart man believeth +unto righteousness;" a man's love is the measure of his fitness for good +or bad company here or elsewhere. Men are tattooed with their special +beliefs like so many South-Sea Islanders; but a real human heart, with +Divine love in it, beats with the same glow under all, the patterns of +all earth's thousand tribes! + +The Doctor sighed, and folded the sermon, and laid the Quarto Cruden on +it. He rose from his desk, and, looking once more at the young girl's +face, forgot his logical conclusions, and said to himself that she was a +little angel,--which was in violent contradiction to the leading doctrine +of his sermon on Human Nature. And so he followed her out of the study +into the wide entry of the old-fashioned country-house. + +An old black woman sat on the plain oaken settle which humble visitors +waiting to see the minister were wont to occupy. She was old, but how +old it would be very hard to guess. She might be seventy. She might be +ninety. One could not swear she was not a hundred. Black women remain +at a stationary age (to the eyes of white people, at least) for thirty +years. They do not appear to change during this period any more than so +many Trenton trilobites. Bent up, wrinkled, yellow-eyed, with long +upper-lip, projecting jaws, retreating chin, still meek features, long +arms, large flat hands with uncolored palms and slightly webbed fingers, +it was impossible not to see in this old creature a hint of the +gradations by which life climbs up through the lower natures to the +highest human developments. We cannot tell such old women's ages because +we do not understand the physiognomy of a race so unlike our own. No +doubt they see a great deal in each other's faces that we +cannot,--changes of color and expression as real as our own, blushes and +sudden betrayals of feeling,--just as these two canaries know what their +single notes and short sentences and full song with this or that +variation mean, though it is a mystery to us unplumed mortals. + +This particular old black woman was a striking specimen of her class. Old +as she looked, her eye was bright and knowing. She wore a red-and-yellow +turban, which set off her complexion well, and hoops of gold in her ears, +and beads of gold about her neck, and an old funeral ring upon her +finger. She had that touching stillness about her which belongs to +animals that wait to be spoken to and then look up with a kind of sad +humility. + +"Why, Sophy!" said the good minister, "is this you?" + +She looked up with the still expression on her face. "It's ol' Sophy," +she said. + +"Why," said the Doctor, "I did not believe you could walk so far as this +to save the Union. Bring Sophy a glass of wine, Letty. Wine's good for +old folks like Sophy and me, after walking a good way, or preaching a +good while." + +The young girl stepped into the back-parlor, where she found the great +pewter flagon in which the wine that was left after each +communion-service was brought to the minister's house. With much toil +she managed to tip it so as to get a couple of glasses filled. The +minister tasted his, and made old Sophy finish hers. + +"I wan' to see you 'n' talk wi' you all alone," she said presently. + +The minister got up and led the way towards his study. "To be sure," he +said; he had only waited for her to rest a moment before he asked her +into the library. The young girl took her gently by the arm, and helped +her feeble steps along the passage. When they reached the study, she +smoothed the cushion of a rocking-chair, and made the old woman sit down +in it. Then she tripped lightly away, and left her alone with the +minister. + +Old Sophy was a member of the Reverend Doctor Honeywood's church. She had +been put through the necessary confessions in a tolerably satisfactory +manner. To be sure, as her grandfather had been a cannibal chief, +according to the common story, and, at any rate, a terrible wild savage, +and as her mother retained to the last some of the prejudices of her +early education, there was a heathen flavor in her Christianity which had +often scandalized the elder of the minister's two deacons. But, the good +minister had smoothed matters over: had explained that allowances were to +be made for those who had been long sitting without the gate of +Zion,--that, no doubt, a part of the curse which descended to the +children of Ham consisted in "having the understanding darkened," as well +as the skin,--and so had brought his suspicious senior deacon to tolerate +old Sophy as one of the communion of fellow-sinners. + +--Poor things! How little we know the simple notions with which these +rudiments of souls are nourished by the Divine Goodness! Did not Mrs. +Professor come home this very blessed morning with a story of one of her +old black women? + +"And how do you feel to-day, Mrs. Robinson?" + +"Oh, my dear, I have this singing in my head all the time." (What +doctors call tinnitus aurium.) + +"She 's got a cold in the head," said old Mrs. Rider. + +"Oh, no, my dear! Whatever I'm thinking about, it's all this singing, +this music. When I'm thinking of the dear Redeemer, it all turns into +this singing and music. When the clark came to see me, I asked him if he +couldn't cure me, and he said, No,--it was the Holy Spirit in me, singing +to me; and all the time I hear this beautiful music, and it's the Holy +Spirit a-singing to me." + +The good man waited for Sophy to speak; but she did not open her lips as +yet. + +"I hope you are not troubled in mind or body," he said to her at length, +finding she did not speak. + +The poor old woman took out a white handkerchief, and lifted it--to her +black face. She could not say a word for her tears and sobs. + +The minister would have consoled her; he was used to tears, and could in +most cases withstand their contagion manfully; but something choked his +voice suddenly, and when he called upon it, he got no answer, but a +tremulous movement of the muscles, which was worse than silence. + +At last she spoke. + +"Oh, no, no, no! It's my poor girl, my darling, my beauty, my baby, that +'s grown up to be a woman; she will come to a bad end; she will do +something that will make them kill her or shut her up all her life. Or, +Doctor, Doctor, save her, pray for her! It a'n't her fault. It a'n't +her fault. If they knew all that I know, they would n' blame that poor +child. I must tell you, Doctor: if I should die, perhaps nobody else +would tell you. Massa Veneer can't talk about it. Doctor Kittredge +won't talk about it. Nobody but old Sophy to tell you, Doctor; and old +Sophy can't die without telling you." + +The kind minister soothed the poor old soul with those gentle, quieting +tones which had carried peace and comfort to so many chambers of sickness +and sorrow, to so many hearts overburdened by the trials laid upon them. + +Old Sophy became quiet in a few minutes, and proceeded to tell her story. +She told it in the low half-whisper which is the natural voice of lips +oppressed wish grief and fears; with quick glances around the apartment +from time to time, as if she dreaded lest the dim portraits on the walls +and the dark folios on the shelves might overhear her words. + +It was not one of those conversations which a third person can report +minutely, unless by that miracle of clairvoyance known to the readers of +stories made out of authors' brains. Yet its main character can be +imparted in a much briefer space than the old black woman took to give +all its details. + +She went far back to the time when Dudley Venner was born,--she being +then a middle-aged woman. The heir and hope of a family which had been +narrowing down as if doomed to extinction, he had been surrounded with +every care and trained by the best education he could have in New +England. He had left college, and was studying the profession which +gentlemen of leisure most affect, when he fell in love with a young girl +left in the world almost alone, as he was. The old woman told the story +of his young love and his joyous bridal with a tenderness which had +something more, even, than her family sympathies to account for it. Had +she not hanging over her bed a paper-cutting of a profile,--jet black, +but not blacker than the face it represented--of one who would have been +her own husband in the small years of this century, if the vessel in +which he went to sea, like Jamie in the ballad, had not sailed away and +never come back to land? Had she not her bits of furniture stowed away +which had been got ready for her own wedding,--two rocking-chairs, one +worn with long use, one kept for him so long that it had grown a +superstition with her never to sit in it,--and might he not come back +yet, after all? Had she not her chest of linen ready for her humble +house-keeping with store of serviceable huckaback and piles of neatly +folded kerchiefs, wherefrom this one that showed so white against her +black face was taken, for that she knew her eyes would betray her in "the +presence"? + +All the first part of the story the old woman told tenderly, and yet +dwelling upon every incident with a loving pleasure. How happy this +young couple had been, what plans and projects of improvement they had +formed, how they lived in each other, always together, so young and fresh +and beautiful as she remembered them in that one early summer when they +walked arm in arm through the wilderness of roses that ran riot in the +garden,--she told of this as loath to leave it and come to the woe that +lay beneath. + +She told the whole story;-shall I repeat it? Not now. If, in the course +of relating the incidents I have undertaken to report, it tells itself, +perhaps this will be better than to run the risk of producing a painful +impression on some of those susceptible readers whom it would be +ill-advised to disturb or excite, when they rather require to be amused +and soothed. In our pictures of life, we must show the flowering-out of +terrible growths which have their roots deep, deep underground. Just how +far we shall lay bare the unseemly roots themselves is a matter of +discretion and taste, and which none of us are infallible. + +The old woman told the whole story of Elsie, of her birth, of her +peculiarities of person and disposition, of the passionate fears and +hopes with which her father had watched the course of her development. +She recounted all her strange ways, from the hour when she first tried to +crawl across the carpet, and her father's look as she worked her way +towards him. With the memory of Juliet's nurse she told the story of her +teething, and how, the woman to whose breast she had clung dying suddenly +about that time, they had to struggle hard with the child before she +would learn the accomplishment of feeding with a spoon. And so of her +fierce plays and fiercer disputes with that boy who had been her +companion, and the whole scene of the quarrel when she struck him with +those sharp white teeth, frightening her, old Sophy, almost to death; +for, as she said, the boy would have died, if it hadn't been for the old +Doctor's galloping over as fast as he could gallop and burning the places +right out of his arm. Then came the story of that other incident, +sufficiently alluded to already, which had produced such an ecstasy of +fright and left such a nightmare of apprehension in the household. And so +the old woman came down to this present time. That boy she never loved +nor trusted was grown to a dark, dangerous-looking man, and he was under +their roof. He wanted to marry our poor Elsie, and Elsie hated him, and +sometimes she would look at him over her shoulder just as she used to +look at that woman she hated; and she, old Sophy, couldn't sleep for +thinking she should hear a scream from the white chamber some night and +find him in spasms such as that woman came so near dying with. And then +there was something about Elsie she did not know what to make of: she +would sit and hang her head sometimes, and look as if she were dreaming; +and she brought home books they said a young gentleman up at the great +school lent her; and once she heard her whisper in her sleep, and she +talked as young girls do to themselves when they're thinking about +somebody they have a liking for and think nobody knows it. + +She finished her long story at last. The minister had listened to it in +perfect silence. He sat still even when she had done speaking,--still, +and lost in thought. It was a very awkward matter for him to have a hand +in. Old Sophy was his parishioner, but the Veneers had a pew in the +Reverend Mr. Fairweather's meeting-house. It would seem that he, Mr. +Fairweather, was the natural adviser of the parties most interested. Had +he sense and spirit enough to deal with such people? Was there enough +capital of humanity in his somewhat limited nature to furnish sympathy +and unshrinking service for his friends in an emergency? or was he too +busy with his own attacks of spiritual neuralgia, and too much occupied +with taking account of stock of his own thin-blooded offences, to forget +himself and his personal interests on the small scale and the large, and +run a risk of his life, if need were, at any rate give himself up without +reserve to the dangerous task of guiding and counselling these distressed +and imperilled fellow-creatures? + +The good minister thought the best thing to do would be to call and talk +over some of these matters with Brother Fairweather,--for so he would +call him at times, especially if his senior deacon were not within +earshot. Having settled this point, he comforted Sophy with a few words +of counsel and a promise of coming to see her very soon. He then called +his man to put the old white horse into the chaise and drive Sophy back +to the mansion-house. + +When the Doctor sat down to his sermon again, it looked very differently +from the way it had looked at the moment he left it. When he came to +think of it, he did not feel quite so sure practically about that matter +of the utter natural selfishness of everybody. There was Letty, now, +seemed to take a very unselfish interest in that old black woman, and +indeed in poor people generally; perhaps it would not be too much to say +that she was always thinking of other people. He thought he had seen +other young persons naturally unselfish, thoughtful for others; it seemed +to be a family trait in some he had known. + +But most of all he was exercised about this poor girl whose story Sophy +had been telling. If what the old woman believed was true,--and it had +too much semblance of probability,--what became of his theory of +ingrained moral obliquity applied to such a case? If by the visitation +of God a person receives any injury which impairs the intellect or the +moral perceptions, is it not monstrous to judge such a person by our +common working standards of right and wrong? Certainly, everybody will +answer, in cases where there is a palpable organic change brought about, +as when a blow on the head produces insanity. Fools! How long will it +be before we shall learn that for every wound which betrays itself to the +sight by a scar, there are a thousand unseen mutilations that cripple, +each of them, some one or more of our highest faculties? If what Sophy +told and believed was the real truth, what prayers could be agonizing +enough, what tenderness could be deep enough, for this poor, lost, +blighted, hapless, blameless child of misfortune, struck by such a doom +as perhaps no living creature in all the sisterhood of humanity shared +with her? + +The minister thought these matters over until his mind was bewildered +with doubts and tossed to and fro on that stormy deep of thought heaving +forever beneath the conflict of windy dogmas. He laid by his old sermon. +He put back a pile of old commentators with their eyes and mouths and +hearts full of the dust of the schools. Then he opened the book of +Genesis at the eighteenth chapter and read that remarkable argument of +Abraham's with his Maker in which he boldly appeals to first principles. +He took as his text, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" and +began to write his sermon, afterwards so famous, "On the Obligations of +an Infinite Creator to a Finite Creature." + +It astonished the good people, who had been accustomed so long to repeat +mechanically their Oriental hyperboles of self-abasement, to hear their +worthy minister maintaining that the dignified attitude of the old +Patriarch, insisting on what was reasonable and fair with reference to +his fellow-creatures, was really much more respectful to his Maker, and a +great deal manlier and more to his credit, than if he had yielded the +whole matter, and pretended that men had not rights as well as duties. +The same logic which had carried him to certain conclusions with +reference to human nature, this same irresistible logic carried him +straight on from his text until he arrived at those other results, which +not only astonished his people, as was said, but surprised himself. He +went so far in defence of the rights of man, that he put his foot into +several heresies, for which men had been burned so often, it was time, if +ever it could be, to acknowledge the demonstration of the argumentum ad +ignem. He did not believe in the responsibility of idiots. He did not +believe a new-born infant was morally answerable for other people's acts. +He thought a man with a crooked spine would never be called to account +for not walking erect. He thought if the crook was in his brain, instead +of his back, he could not fairly be blamed for any consequence of this +natural defect, whatever lawyers or divines might call it. He argued, +that, if a person inherited a perfect mind, body, and disposition, and +had perfect teaching from infancy, that person could do nothing more than +keep the moral law perfectly. But supposing that the Creator allows a +person to be born with an hereditary or ingrafted organic tendency, and +then puts this person into the hands of teachers incompetent or +positively bad, is not what is called sin or transgression of the law +necessarily involved in the premises? Is not a Creator bound to guard +his children against the ruin which inherited ignorance might entail on +them? Would it be fair for a parent to put into a child's hands the +title-deeds to all its future possessions, and a bunch of matches? And +are not men children, nay, babes, in the eye of Omniscience?--The +minister grew bold in his questions. Had not he as good right to ask +questions as Abraham? + +This was the dangerous vein of speculation in which the Reverend Doctor +Honeywood found himself involved, as a consequence of the suggestions +forced upon him by old Sophy's communication. The truth was, the good +man had got so humanized by mixing up with other people in various +benevolent schemes, that, the very moment he could escape from his old +scholastic abstractions, he took the side of humanity instinctively, just +as the Father of the Faithful did,--all honor be to the noble old +Patriarch for insisting on the worth of an honest man, and making the +best terms he could for a very ill-conditioned metropolis, which might +possibly, however, have contained ten righteous people, for whose sake it +should be spared! + +The consequence of all this was, that he was in a singular and seemingly +self-contradictory state of mind when he took his hat and cane and went +forth to call on his heretical brother. The old minister took it for +granted that the Reverend Mr. Fairweather knew the private history of his +parishioner's family. He did not reflect that there are griefs men never +put into words,--that there are fears which must not be spoken,--intimate +matters of consciousness which must be carried, as bullets which have +been driven deep into the living tissues are sometimes carried, for a +whole lifetime,--encysted griefs, if we may borrow the chirurgeon's term, +never to be reached, never to be seen, never to be thrown out, but to go +into the dust with the frame that bore them about with it, during long +years of anguish, known only to the sufferer and his Maker. Dudley +Venner had talked with his minister about this child of his. But he had +talked cautiously, feeling his way for sympathy, looking out for those +indications of tact and judgment which would warrant him in some partial +communication, at least, of the origin of his doubts and fears, and never +finding them. + +There was something about the Reverend Mr. Fairweather which repressed +all attempts at confidential intercourse. What this something was, +Dudley Venner could hardly say; but he felt it distinctly, and it sealed +his lips. He never got beyond certain generalities connected with +education and religious instruction. The minister could not help +discovering, however, that there were difficulties connected with this +girl's management, and he heard enough outside of the family to convince +him that she had manifested tendencies, from an early age, at variance +with the theoretical opinions he was in the habit of preaching, and in a +dim way of holding for truth, as to the natural dispositions of the human +being. + +About this terrible fact of congenital obliquity his new beliefs began to +cluster as a centre, and to take form as a crystal around its nucleus. +Still, he might perhaps have struggled against them, had it not been for +the little Roman Catholic chapel he passed every Sunday, on his way to +the meeting-house. Such a crowd of worshippers, swarming into the pews +like bees, filling all the aisles, running over at the door like berries +heaped too full in the measure,--some kneeling on the steps, some +standing on the sidewalk, hats off, heads down, lips moving, some looking +on devoutly from the other side of the street! Oh, could he have +followed his own Bridget, maid of all work, into the heart of that +steaming throng, and bowed his head while the priests intoned their Latin +prayers! could he have snuffed up the cloud of frankincense, and felt +that he was in the great ark which holds the better half of the Christian +world, while all around it are wretched creatures, some struggling +against the waves in leaky boats, and some on ill-connected rafts, and +some with their heads just above water, thinking to ride out the flood +which is to sweep the earth clean of sinners, upon their own private, +individual life-preservers! + +Such was the present state of mind of the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather, +when his clerical brother called upon him to talk over the questions to +which old Sophy had called his attention. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE REVEREND DOCTOR CALLS ON BROTHER FAIRWEATHER. + +For the last few months, while all these various matters were going on in +Rockland, the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather had been busy with the records +of ancient councils and the writings of the early fathers. The more he +read, the more discontented he became with the platform upon which he and +his people were standing. They and he were clearly in a minority, and +his deep inward longing to be with the majority was growing into an +engrossing passion. He yearned especially towards the good old +unquestioning, authoritative Mother Church, with her articles of faith +which took away the necessity for private judgment, with her traditional +forms and ceremonies, and her whole apparatus of stimulants and anodynes. + +About this time he procured a breviary and kept it in his desk under the +loose papers. He sent to a Catholic bookstore and obtained a small +crucifix suspended from a string of beads. He ordered his new coat to be +cut very narrow in the collar and to be made single-breasted. He began +an informal series of religious conversations with Miss O'Brien, the +young person of Irish extraction already referred to as Bridget, maid of +all work. These not proving very satisfactory, he managed to fall in +with Father McShane, the Catholic priest of the Rockland church. + +Father McShane encouraged his nibble very scientifically. It would be +such a fine thing to bring over one of those Protestant heretics, and a +"liberal" one too!--not that there was any real difference between them, +but it sounded better, to say that one of these rationalizing +free-and-equal religionists had been made a convert than any of those +half-way Protestants who were the slaves of catechisms instead of +councils, and of commentators instead of popes. The subtle priest played +his disciple with his finest tackle. It was hardly necessary: when +anything or anybody wishes to be caught, a bare hook and a coarse line +are all that is needed. + +If a man has a genuine, sincere, hearty wish to get rid of his liberty, +if he is really bent upon becoming a slave, nothing can stop him. And +the temptation is to some natures a very great one. Liberty is often a +heavy burden on a man. It involves that necessity for perpetual choice +which is the kind of labor men have always dreaded. In common life we +shirk it by forming habits, which take the place of self-determination. +In politics party-organization saves us the pains of much thinking before +deciding how to cast our vote. In religious matters there are great +multitudes watching us perpetually, each propagandist ready with his +bundle of finalities, which having accepted we may be at peace. The more +absolute the submission demanded, the stronger the temptation becomes to +those who have been long tossed among doubts and conflicts. + +So it is that in all the quiet bays which indent the shores of the great +ocean of thought, at every sinking wharf, we see moored the hulks and the +razees of enslaved or half-enslaved intelligences. They rock peacefully +as children in their cradles on the subdued swell which comes feebly in +over the bar at the harbor's mouth, slowly crusting with barnacles, +pulling at their iron cables as if they really wanted to be free; but +better contented to remain bound as they are. For these no more the +round unwalled horizon of the open sea, the joyous breeze aloft, the +furrow, the foam, the sparkle, that track the rushing keel! They have +escaped the dangers of the wave, and lie still henceforth, evermore. +Happiest of souls, if lethargy is bliss, and palsy the chief beatitude! + +America owes its political freedom to religious Protestantism. But +political freedom is reacting on religious prescription with still +mightier force. We wonder, therefore, when we find a soul which was born +to a full sense of individual liberty, an unchallenged right of +self-determination on every new alleged truth offered to its +intelligence, voluntarily surrendering any portion of its liberty to a +spiritual dictatorship which always proves to rest, in the last analysis, +on a majority vote, nothing more nor less, commonly an old one, passed in +those barbarous times when men cursed and murdered each other for +differences of opinion, and of course were not in a condition to settle +the beliefs of a comparatively civilized community. + +In our disgust, we are liable to be intolerant. We forget that weakness +is not in itself a sin. We forget that even cowardice may call for our +most lenient judgment, if it spring from innate infirmity, Who of us does +not look with great tenderness on the young chieftain in the "Fair Maid +of Perth," when he confesses his want of courage? All of us love +companionship and sympathy; some of us may love them too much. All of us +are more or less imaginative in our theology. + +Some of us may find the aid of material symbols a comfort, if not a +necessity. The boldest thinker may have his moments of languor and +discouragement, when he feels as if he could willingly exchange faiths +with the old beldame crossing herself at the cathedral-door,--nay, that, +if he could drop all coherent thought, and lie in the flowery meadow with +the brown-eyed solemnly unthinking cattle, looking up to the sky, and all +their simple consciousness staining itself blue, then down to the grass, +and life turning to a mere greenness, blended with confused scents of +herbs,--no individual mind-movement such as men are teased with, but the +great calm cattle-sense of all time and all places that know the milky +smell of herds,--if he could be like these, he would be content to be +driven home by the cow-boy, and share the grassy banquet of the king of +ancient Babylon. Let us be very generous, then, in our judgment of those +who leave the front ranks of thought for the company of the meek +non-combatants who follow with the baggage and provisions. Age, illness, +too much wear and tear, a half-formed paralysis, may bring any of us to +this pass. But while we can think and maintain the rights of our own +individuality against every human combination, let us not forget to +caution all who are disposed to waver that there is a cowardice which is +criminal, and a longing for rest which it is baseness to indulge. God +help him, over whose dead soul in his living body must be uttered the sad +supplication, Requiescat in pace! + +A knock at the Reverend Mr. Fairweather's study door called his eyes from +the book on which they were intent. He looked up, as if expecting a +welcome guest. + +The Reverend Pierrepont Honeywood, D. D., entered the study of the +Reverend Chauncy Fairweather. He was not the expected guest. Mr. +Fairweather slipped the book he was reading into a half-open drawer, and +pushed in the drawer. He slid something which rattled under a paper +lying on the table. He rose with a slight change of color, and welcomed, +a little awkwardly, his unusual visitor. + +"Good-evening, Brother Fairweather!" said the Reverend Doctor, in a very +cordial, good-humored way. "I hope I am not spoiling one of those +eloquent sermons I never have a chance to hear." + +"Not at all, not at all," the younger clergyman answered, in a languid +tone, with a kind of habitual half-querulousness which belonged to +it,--the vocal expression which we meet with now and then, and which says +as plainly as so many words could say it, "I am a suffering individual. +I am persistently undervalued, wronged, and imposed upon by mankind and +the powers of the universe generally. But I endure all. I endure you. +Speak. I listen. It is a burden to me, but I even approve. I sacrifice +myself. Behold this movement of my lips! It is a smile." + +The Reverend Doctor knew this forlorn way of Mr. Fairweather's, and was +not troubled by it. He proceeded to relate the circumstances of his +visit from the old black woman, and the fear she was in about the young +girl, who being a parishioner of Mr. Fairweather's, he had thought it +best to come over and speak to him about old Sophy's fears and fancies. + +In telling the old woman's story, he alluded only vaguely to those +peculiar circumstances to which she had attributed so much importance, +taking it for granted that the other minister must be familiar with the +whole series of incidents she had related. The old minister was +mistaken, as we have before seen. Mr. Fairweather had been settled in +the place only about ten years, and, if he had heard a strange hint now +and then about Elsie, had never considered it as anything more than idle +and ignorant, if not malicious, village-gossip. All that he fully +understood was that this had been a perverse and unmanageable child, and +that the extraordinary care which had been bestowed on her had been so +far thrown away that she was a dangerous, self-willed girl, whom all +feared and almost all shunned, as if she carried with her some malignant +influence. + +He replied, therefore, after hearing the story, that Elsie had always +given trouble. There seemed to be a kind of natural obliquity about her. +Perfectly unaccountable. A very dark case. Never amenable to good +influences. Had sent her good books from the Sunday-school library. +Remembered that she tore out the frontispiece of one of them, and kept +it, and flung the book out of the window. It was a picture of Eve's +temptation; and he recollected her saying that Eve was a good woman,--and +she'd have done just so, if she'd been there. A very sad child, very sad; +bad from infancy. He had talked himself bold, and said all at once, +"Doctor, do you know I am almost ready to accept your doctrine of the +congenital sinfulness of human nature? I am afraid that is the only thing +which goes to the bottom of the difficulty." + +The old minister's face did not open so approvingly as Mr. Fairweather +had expected. + +"Why, yes,--well,--many find comfort in it,--I believe;--there is much to +be said,--there are many bad people,--and bad children,--I can't be so +sure about bad babies,--though they cry very malignantly at +times,--especially if they have the stomach-ache. But I really don't know +how to condemn this poor Elsie; she may have impulses that act in her +like instincts in the lower animals, and so not come under the bearing of +our ordinary rules of judgment." + +"But this depraved tendency, Doctor,--this unaccountable perverseness. +My dear Sir, I am afraid your school is in the right about human nature. +Oh, those words of the Psalmist, 'shapen in iniquity,' and the rest! +What are we to do with them,--we who teach that the soul of a child is an +unstained white tablet?" + +"King David was very subject to fits of humility, and much given to +self-reproaches," said the Doctor, in a rather dry way. "We owe you and +your friends a good deal for calling attention to the natural graces, +which, after all, may, perhaps, be considered as another form of +manifestation of the divine influence. Some of our writers have pressed +rather too hard on the tendencies of the human soul toward evil as such. +It maybe questioned whether these views have not interfered with the +sound training of certain young persons, sons of clergymen and others. I +am nearer of your mind about the possibility of educating children so +that they shall become good Christians without any violent transition. +That is what I should hope for from bringing them up 'in the nurture and +admonition of the Lord.'" + +The younger minister looked puzzled, but presently answered, "Possibly we +may have called attention to some neglected truths; but, after all, I +fear we must go to the old school, if we want to get at the root of the +matter. I know there is an outward amiability about many young persons, +some young girls especially, that seems like genuine goodness; but I have +been disposed of late to lean toward your view, that these human +affections, as we see them in our children,--ours, I say, though I have +not the fearful responsibility of training any of my own,--are only a +kind of disguised and sinful selfishness." + +The old minister groaned in spirit. His heart had been softened by the +sweet influences of children and grandchildren. He thought of a +half-sized grave in the burial-ground, and the fine, brave, noble-hearted +boy he laid in it thirty years before,--the sweet, cheerful child who had +made his home all sunshine until the day when he was brought into it, his +long curls dripping, his fresh lips purpled in death,--foolish dear +little blessed creature to throw himself into the deep water to save the +drowning boy, who clung about him and carried him under! Disguised +selfishness! And his granddaughter too, whose disguised selfishness was +the light of his household! + +"Don't call it my view!" he said. "Abstractly, perhaps, all natures may +be considered vitiated; but practically, as I see it in life, the divine +grace keeps pace with the perverted instincts from infancy in many +natures. Besides, this perversion itself may often be disease, bad +habits transmitted, like drunkenness, or some hereditary misfortune, as +with this Elsie we were talking about." + +The younger minister was completely mystified. At every step he made +towards the Doctor's recognized theological position, the Doctor took +just one step towards his. They would cross each other soon at this +rate, and might as well exchange pulpits,--as Colonel Sprowle once wished +they would, it may be remembered. + +The Doctor, though a much clearer-headed man, was almost equally puzzled. +He turned the conversation again upon Elsie, and endeavored to make her +minister feel the importance of bringing every friendly influence to bear +upon her at this critical period of her life. His sympathies did not +seem so lively as the Doctor could have wished. Perhaps he had vastly +more important objects of solicitude in his own spiritual interests. + +A knock at the door interrupted them. The Reverend Mr. Fairweather rose +and went towards it. As he passed the table, his coat caught something, +which came rattling to the floor. It was a crucifix with a string of +beads attached. As he opened the door, the Milesian features of Father +McShane presented themselves, and from their centre proceeded the +clerical benediction in Irish-sounding Latin, Pax vobiscum! + +The Reverend Doctor Honeywood rose and left the priest and his disciple +together. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE SPIDER ON HIS THREAD. + +There was nobody, then, to counsel poor Elsie, except her father, who had +learned to let her have her own way so as not to disturb such relations +as they had together, and the old black woman, who had a real, though +limited influence over the girl. Perhaps she did not need counsel. To +look upon her, one might well suppose that she was competent to defend +herself against any enemy she was like to have. That glittering, piercing +eye was not to be softened by a few smooth words spoken in low tones, +charged with the common sentiments which win their way to maidens' +hearts. That round, lithe, sinuous figure was as full of dangerous life +as ever lay under the slender flanks and clean-shaped limbs of a panther. + +There were particular times when Elsie was in such a mood that it must +have been a bold person who would have intruded upon her with reproof or +counsel. "This is one of her days," old Sophy would say quietly to her +father, and he would, as far as possible, leave her to herself. These +days were more frequent, as old Sophy's keen, concentrated watchfulness +had taught her, at certain periods of the year. It was in the heats of +summer that they were most common and most strongly characterized. In +winter, on the other hand, she was less excitable, and even at times +heavy and as if chilled and dulled in her sensibilities. It was a +strange, paroxysmal kind of life that belonged to her. It seemed to come +and go with the sunlight. All winter long she would be comparatively +quiet, easy to manage, listless, slow in her motions; her eye would lose +something of its strange lustre; and the old nurse would feel so little +anxiety, that her whole expression and aspect would show the change, and +people would say to her, "Why, Sophy, how young you're looking!" + +As the spring came on, Elsie would leave the fireside, have her +tiger-skin spread in the empty southern chamber next the wall, and lie +there basking for whole hours in the sunshine. As the season warmed, the +light would kindle afresh in her eyes, and the old woman's sleep would +grow restless again,--for she knew, that, so long as the glitter was +fierce in the girl's eyes, there was no trusting her impulses or +movements. + +At last, when the veins of the summer were hot and swollen, and the +juices of all the poison-plants and the blood of all the creatures that +feed upon them had grown thick and strong,--about the time when the +second mowing was in hand, and the brown, wet-faced men were following up +the scythes as they chased the falling waves of grass, (falling as the +waves fall on sickle-curved beaches; the foam-flowers dropping as the +grass-flowers drop,--with sharp semivowel consonantal sounds,--frsh,--for +that is the way the sea talks, and leaves all pure vowel-sounds for the +winds to breathe over it, and all mutes to the unyielding earth,)--about +this time of over-ripe midsummer, the life of Elsie seemed fullest of its +malign and restless instincts. This was the period of the year when the +Rockland people were most cautious of wandering in the leafier coverts +which skirted the base of The Mountain, and the farmers liked to wear +thick, long boots, whenever they went into the bushes. But Elsie was +never so much given to roaming over The Mountain as at this season; and +as she had grown more absolute and uncontrollable, she was as like to +take the night as the day for her rambles. + +At this season, too, all her peculiar tastes in dress and ornament came +out in a more striking way than at other times. She was never so superb +as then, and never so threatening in her scowling beauty. The barred +skirts she always fancied showed sharply beneath her diaphanous muslins; +the diamonds often glittered on her breast as if for her own pleasure +rather than to dazzle others; the asp-like bracelet hardly left her arm. +She was never seen without some necklace,--either the golden cord she +wore at the great party, or a chain of mosaics, or simply a ring of +golden scales. Some said that Elsie always slept in a necklace, and that +when she died she was to be buried in one. It was a fancy of hers,--but +many thought there was a reason for it. + +Nobody watched Elsie with a more searching eye than her cousin, Dick +Venner. He had kept more out of her way of late, it is true, but there +was not a movement she made which he did not carefully observe just so +far as he could without exciting her suspicion. It was plain enough to +him that the road to fortune was before him, and that the first thing was +to marry Elsie. What course he should take with her, or with others +interested, after marrying her, need not be decided in a hurry. + +He had now done all he could expect to do at present in the way of +conciliating the other members of the household. The girl's father +tolerated him, if he did not even like him. Whether he suspected his +project or not Dick did not feel sure; but it was something to have got a +foothold in the house, and to have overcome any prepossession against him +which his uncle might have entertained. To be a good listener and a bad +billiard-player was not a very great sacrifice to effect this object. +Then old Sophy could hardly help feeling well-disposed towards him, after +the gifts he had bestowed on her and the court he had paid her. These +were the only persons on the place of much importance to gain over. The +people employed about the house and farm-lands had little to do with +Elsie, except to obey her without questioning her commands. + +Mr. Richard began to think of reopening his second parallel. But he had +lost something of the coolness with which he had begun his system of +operations. The more he had reflected upon the matter, the more he had +convinced himself that this was his one great chance in life. If he +suffered this girl to escape him, such an opportunity could hardly, in +the nature of things, present itself a second time. Only one life +between Elsie and her fortune,--and lives are so uncertain! The girl +might not suit him as a wife. Possibly. Time enough to find out after +he had got her. In short, he must have the property, and Elsie Venner, +as she was to go with it,--and then, if he found it convenient and +agreeable to, lead a virtuous life, he would settle down and raise +children and vegetables; but if he found it inconvenient and +disagreeable, so much the worse for those who made it so. Like many +other persons, he was not principled against virtue, provided virtue were +a better investment than its opposite; but he knew that there might be +contingencies in which the property would be better without its +incumbrances, and he contemplated this conceivable problem in the light +of all its possible solutions. + +One thing Mr. Richard could not conceal from himself: Elsie had some new +cause of indifference, at least, if not of aversion to him. With the +acuteness which persons who make a sole business of their own interest +gain by practice, so that fortune-hunters are often shrewd where real +lovers are terribly simple, he fixed at once on the young man up at the +school where the girl had been going of late, as probably at the bottom +of it. + +"Cousin Elsie in love!" so he communed with himself upon his lonely +pillow. "In love with a Yankee schoolmaster! What else can it be? Let +him look out for himself! He'll stand but a bad chance between us. What +makes you think she's in love with him? Met her walking with him. Don't +like her looks and ways;--she's thinking about something, anyhow. Where +does she get those books she is reading so often? Not out of our +library, that 's certain. If I could have ten minutes' peep into her +chamber now, I would find out where she got them, and what mischief she +was up to." + +At that instant, as if some tributary demon had heard his wish, a shape +which could be none but Elsie's flitted through a gleam of moonlight into +the shadow of the trees. She was setting out on one of her midnight +rambles. + +Dick felt his heart stir in its place, and presently his cheeks flushed +with the old longing for an adventure. It was not much to invade a young +girl's deserted chamber, but it would amuse a wakeful hour, and tell him +some little matters he wanted to know. The chamber he slept in was over +the room which Elsie chiefly occupied at this season. There was no great +risk of his being seen or heard, if he ventured down-stairs to her +apartment. + +Mr. Richard Venner, in the pursuit of his interesting project, arose and +lighted a lamp. He wrapped himself in a dressing-gown and thrust his +feet into a pair of cloth slippers. He stole carefully down the stair, +and arrived safely at the door of Elsie's room. + +The young lady had taken the natural precaution to leave it fastened, +carrying the key with her, no doubt,--unless; indeed, she had got out by +the window, which was not far from the ground. Dick could get in at this +window easily enough, but he did not like the idea of leaving his +footprints in the flower-bed just under it. He returned to his own +chamber, and held a council of war with himself. + +He put his head out of his own window and looked at that beneath. It was +open. He then went to one of his trunks, which he unlocked, and began +carefully removing its contents. What these were we need not stop to +mention,--only remarking that there were dresses of various patterns, +which might afford an agreeable series of changes, and in certain +contingencies prove eminently useful. After removing a few of these, he +thrust his hand to the very bottom of the remaining pile and drew out a +coiled strip of leather many yards in length, ending in a noose,--a +tough, well-seasoned lasso, looking as if it had seen service and was +none the worse for it. He uncoiled a few yards of this and fastened it +to the knob of a door. Then he threw the loose end out of the window so +that it should hang by the open casement of Elsie's room. By this he let +himself down opposite her window, and with a slight effort swung himself +inside the room. He lighted a match, found a candle, and, having lighted +that, looked curiously about him, as Clodius might have done when he +smuggled himself in among the Vestals. + +Elsie's room was almost as peculiar as her dress and ornaments. It was a +kind of museum of objects, such as the woods are full of to those who +have eyes to see them, but many of them such as only few could hope to +reach, even if they knew where to look for them. Crows' nests, which are +never found but in the tall trees, commonly enough in the forks of +ancient hemlocks, eggs of rare birds, which must have taken a quick eye +and a hard climb to find and get hold of, mosses and ferns of unusual +aspect, and quaint monstrosities of vegetable growth, such as Nature +delights in, showed that Elsie had her tastes and fancies like any +naturalist or poet. + +Nature, when left to her own freaks in the forest, is grotesque and +fanciful to the verge of license, and beyond it. The foliage of trees +does not always require clipping to make it look like an image of life. +From those windows at Canoe Meadow, among the mountains, we could see all +summer long a lion rampant, a Shanghai chicken, and General Jackson on +horseback, done by Nature in green leaves, each with a single tree. But +to Nature's tricks with boughs and roots and smaller vegetable growths +there is no end. Her fancy is infinite, and her humor not always +refined. There is a perpetual reminiscence of animal life in her rude +caricatures, which sometimes actually reach the point of imitating the +complete human figure, as in that extraordinary specimen which nobody +will believe to be genuine, except the men of science, and of which the +discreet reader may have a glimpse by application in the proper quarter. + +Elsie had gathered so many of these sculpture-like monstrosities, that +one might have thought she had robbed old Sophy's grandfather of his +fetishes. They helped to give her room a kind of enchanted look, as if a +witch had her home in it. Over the fireplace was a long, staff-like +branch, strangled in the spiral coils of one of those vines which strain +the smaller trees in their clinging embraces, sinking into the bark until +the parasite becomes almost identified with its support. With these +sylvan curiosities were blended objects of art, some of them not less +singular, but others showing a love for the beautiful in form and color, +such as a girl of fine organization and nice culture might naturally be +expected to feel and to indulge, in adorning her apartment. + +All these objects, pictures, bronzes, vases, and the rest, did not detain +Mr. Richard Veneer very long, whatever may have been his sensibilities to +art. He was more curious about books and papers. A copy of Keats lay on +the table. He opened it and read the name of Bernard C. Langdon on the +blank leaf. An envelope was on the table with Elsie's name written in a +similar hand; but the envelope was empty, and he could not find the note +it contained. Her desk was locked, and it would not be safe to tamper +with it. He had seen enough; the girl received books and notes from this +fellow up at the school, this usher, this Yankee quill-driver;--he was +aspiring to become the lord of the Dudley domain, then, was he? + +Elsie had been reasonably careful. She had locked up her papers, +whatever they might be. There was little else that promised to reward +his curiosity, but he cast his eye on everything. There was a +clasp-Bible among her books. Dick wondered if she ever unclasped it. +There was a book of hymns; it had her name in it, and looked as if it +might have been often read;--what the diablo had Elsie to do with hymns? + +Mr. Richard Venner was in an observing and analytical state of mind, it +will be noticed, or he might perhaps have been touched with the innocent +betrayals of the poor girl's chamber. Had she, after all, some human +tenderness in her heart? That was not the way he put the question,--but +whether she would take seriously to this schoolmaster, and if she did, +what would be the neatest and surest and quickest way of putting a stop +to all that nonsense. All this, however, he could think over more safely +in his own quarters. So he stole softly to the window, and, catching the +end of the leathern thong, regained his own chamber and drew in the +lasso. + +It needs only a little jealousy to set a man on who is doubtful in love +or wooing, or to make him take hold of his courting in earnest. As soon +as Dick had satisfied himself that the young schoolmaster was his rival +in Elsie's good graces, his whole thoughts concentrated themselves more +than ever on accomplishing his great design of securing her for himself. +There was no time to be lost. He must come into closer relations with +her, so as to withdraw her thoughts from this fellow, and to find out +more exactly what was the state of her affections, if she had any. So he +began to court her company again, to propose riding with her, to sing to +her, to join her whenever she was strolling about the grounds, to make +himself agreeable, according to the ordinary understanding of that +phrase, in every way which seemed to promise a chance for succeeding in +that amiable effort. + +The girl treated him more capriciously than ever. She would be sullen +and silent, or she would draw back fiercely at some harmless word or +gesture, or she would look at him with her eyes narrowed in such a +strange way and with such a wicked light in them that Dick swore to +himself they were too much for him, and would leave her for the moment. +Yet she tolerated him, almost as a matter of necessity, and sometimes +seemed to take a kind of pleasure in trying her power upon him. This he +soon found out, and humored her in the fancy that she could exercise a +kind of fascination over him, though there were times in which he +actually felt an influence he could not understand, an effect of some +peculiar expression about her, perhaps, but still centring in those +diamond eyes of hers which it made one feel so curiously to look into. + +Whether Elsie saw into his object or not was more than he could tell. His +idea was, after having conciliated the good-will of all about her as far +as possible, to make himself first a habit and then a necessity with the +girl,--not to spring any trap of a declaration upon her until tolerance +had grown into such a degree of inclination as her nature was like to +admit. He had succeeded in the first part of his plan. He was at +liberty to prolong his visit at his own pleasure. This was not strange; +these three persons, Dudley Venner, his daughter, and his nephew, +represented all that remained of an old and honorable family. Had Elsie +been like other girls, her father might have been less willing to +entertain a young fellow like Dick as an inmate; but he had long outgrown +all the slighter apprehensions which he might have had in common with all +parents, and followed rather than led the imperious instincts of his +daughter. It was not a question of sentiment, but of life and death, or +more than that,--some dark ending, perhaps, which would close the +history of his race with disaster and evil report upon the lips of all +coming generations. + +As to the thought of his nephew's making love to his daughter, it had +almost passed from his mind. He had been so long in the habit of looking +at Elsie as outside of all common influences and exceptional in the law +of her nature, that it was difficult for him to think of her as a girl to +be fallen in love with. Many persons are surprised, when others court +their female relatives; they know them as good young or old women +enough,--aunts, sisters, nieces, daughters, whatever they may be,--but +never think of anybody's falling in love with them, any more than of +their being struck by lightning. But in this case there were special +reasons, in addition to the common family delusion,--reasons which seemed +to make it impossible that she should attract a suitor. Who would dare +to marry Elsie? No, let her have the pleasure, if it was one, at any +rate the wholesome excitement, of companionship; it might save her from +lapsing into melancholy or a worse form of madness. Dudley Venner had a +kind of superstition, too, that, if Elsie could only outlive three +septenaries, twenty-one years, so that, according to the prevalent idea, +her whole frame would have been thrice made over, counting from her +birth, she would revert to the natural standard of health of mind and +feelings from which she had been so long perverted. The thought of any +other motive than love being sufficient to induce Richard to become her +suitor had not occurred to him. He had married early, at that happy +period when interested motives are least apt to influence the choice; and +his single idea of marriage was, that it was the union of persons +naturally drawn towards each other by some mutual attraction. Very +simple, perhaps; but he had lived lonely for many years since his wife's +death, and judged the hearts of others, most of all of his brother's son, +by his own. He had often thought whether, in case of Elsie's dying or +being necessarily doomed to seclusion, he might not adopt this nephew and +make him his heir; but it had not occurred to him that Richard might wish +to become his son-in-law for the sake of his property. + +It is very easy to criticise other people's modes of dealing with their +children. Outside observers see results; parents see processes. They +notice the trivial movements and accents which betray the blood of this +or that ancestor; they can detect the irrepressible movement of +hereditary impulse in looks and acts which mean nothing to the common +observer. To be a parent is almost to be a fatalist. This boy sits with +legs crossed, just as his uncle used to whom he never saw; his +grandfathers both died before he was born, but he has the movement of the +eyebrows which we remember in one of them, and the gusty temper of three +different generations, can tell pretty nearly the range of possibilities +and the limitations of a child, actual or potential, of a given +stock,--errors excepted always, because children of the same stock are +not bred just alike, because the traits of some less known ancestor are +liable to break out at any time, and because each human being has, after +all, a small fraction of individuality about him which gives him a +flavor, so that he is distinguishable from others by his friends or in a +court of justice, and which occasionally makes a genius or a saint or a +criminal of him. It is well that young persons cannot read these fatal +oracles of Nature. Blind impulse is her highest wisdom, after all. We +make our great jump, and then she takes the bandage off our eyes. That +is the way the broad sea-level of average is maintained, and the +physiological democracy is enabled to fight against the principle of +selection which would disinherit all the weaker children. The +magnificent constituency of mediocrities of which the world is made +up,--the people without biographies, whose lives have made a clear +solution in the fluid menstruum of time, instead of being precipitated in +the opaque sediment of history-- + +But this is a narrative, and not a disquisition. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +FROM WITHOUT AND FROM WITHIN. + +There were not wanting people who accused Dudley VENNER of weakness and +bad judgment in his treatment of his daughter. Some were of opinion that +the great mistake was in not "breaking her will" when she was a little +child. There was nothing the matter with her, they said, but that she +had been spoiled by indulgence. If they had had the charge of her, +they'd have brought her down. She'd got the upperhand of her father now; +but if he'd only taken hold of her in season! There are people who think +that everything may be done, if the doer, be he educator or physician, be +only called "in season." No doubt,--but in season would often be a +hundred or two years before the child was born; and people never send so +early as that. + +The father of Elsie Veneer knew his duties and his difficulties too well +to trouble himself about anything others might think or say. So soon as +he found that he could not govern his child, he gave his life up to +following her and protecting her as far as he could. It was a stern and +terrible trial for a man of acute sensibility, and not without force of +intellect and will, and the manly ambition for himself and his +family-name which belonged to his endowments and his position. Passive +endurance is the hardest trial to persons of such a nature. + +What made it still more a long martyrdom was the necessity for bearing +his cross in utter loneliness. He could not tell his griefs. He could +not talk of them even with those who knew their secret spring. His +minister had the unsympathetic nature which is common in the meaner sort +of devotees,--persons who mistake spiritual selfishness for sanctity, and +grab at the infinite prize of the great Future and Elsewhere with the +egotism they excommunicate in its hardly more odious forms of avarice and +self-indulgence. How could he speak with the old physician and the old +black woman about a sorrow and a terror which but to name was to strike +dumb the lips of Consolation? + +In the dawn of his manhood he had found that second consciousness for +which young men and young women go about looking into each other's faces, +with their sweet, artless aim playing in every feature, and making them +beautiful to each other, as to all of us. He had found his other self +early, before he had grown weary in the search and wasted his freshness +in vain longings: the lot of many, perhaps we may say of most, who +infringe the patent of our social order by intruding themselves into a +life already upon half allowance of the necessary luxuries of existence. +The life he had led for a brief space was not only beautiful in outward +circumstance, as old Sophy had described it to the Reverend Doctor. It +was that delicious process of the tuning of two souls to each other, +string by string, not without little half-pleasing discords now and then +when some chord in one or the other proves to be overstrained or +over-lax, but always approaching nearer and nearer to harmony, until they +become at last as two instruments with a single voice. Something more +than a year of this blissful doubled consciousness had passed over him +when he found himself once more alone,--alone, save for the little +diamond-eyed child lying in the old black woman's arms, with the coral +necklace round--her throat and the rattle in her hand. + +He would not die by his own act. It was not the way in his family. There +may have been other, perhaps better reasons, but this was enough; he did +not come of suicidal stock. He must live for this child's sake, at any +rate; and yet,--oh, yet, who could tell with what thoughts he looked upon +her? Sometimes her little features would look placid, and something like +a smile would steal over them; then all his tender feelings would rush +up, into his eyes, and he would put his arms out to take her from the old +woman,--but all at once her eyes would narrow and she would throw her +head back, and a shudder would seize him as he stooped over his +child,--he could not look upon her,--he could not touch his lips to her +cheek; nay, there would sometimes come into his soul such frightful +suggestions that he would hurry from the room lest the hinted thought +should become a momentary madness and he should lift his hand against the +hapless infant which owed him life. + +In those miserable days he used to wander all over The Mountain in his +restless endeavor to seek some relief for inward suffering in outward +action. He had no thought of throwing himself from the summit of any of +the broken cliffs, but he clambered over them recklessly, as having no +particular care for his life. Sometimes he would go into the accursed +district where the venomous reptiles were always to be dreaded, and court +their worst haunts, and kill all he could come near with a kind of blind +fury which was strange in a person of his gentle nature. + +One overhanging cliff was a favorite haunt of his. It frowned upon his +home beneath in a very menacing way; he noticed slight seams and fissures +that looked ominous;--what would happen, if it broke off some time or +other and came crashing down on the fields and roofs below? He thought +of such a possible catastrophe with a singular indifference, in fact with +a feeling almost like pleasure. It would be such a swift and thorough +solution of this great problem of life he was working out in +ever-recurring daily anguish! The remote possibility of such a +catastrophe had frightened some timid dwellers beneath The Mountain to +other places of residence; here the danger was most imminent, and yet he +loved to dwell upon the chances of its occurrence. Danger is often the +best counterirritant in cases of mental suffering; he found a solace in +careless exposure of his life, and learned to endure the trials of each +day better by dwelling in imagination on the possibility that it might be +the last for him and the home that was his. + +Time, the great consoler, helped these influences, and he gradually fell +into more easy and less dangerous habits of life. He ceased from his +more perilous rambles. He thought less of the danger from the great +overhanging rocks and forests; they had hung there for centuries; it was +not very likely they would crash or slide in his time. He became +accustomed to all Elsie's strange looks and ways. Old Sophy dressed her +with ruffles round her neck, and hunted up the red coral branch with +silver bells which the little toothless Dudleys had bitten upon for a +hundred years. By an infinite effort, her father forced himself to +become the companion of this child, for whom he had such a mingled +feeling, but whose presence was always a trial to him, and often a +terror. + +At a cost which no human being could estimate, he had done his duty, and +in some degree reaped his reward. Elsie grew up with a kind of filial +feeling for him, such as her nature was capable of. She never would obey +him; that was not to be looked for. Commands, threats, punishments, were +out of the question with her; the mere physical effects of crossing her +will betrayed themselves in such changes of expression and manner that it +would have been senseless to attempt to govern her in any such way. +Leaving her mainly to herself, she could be to some extent indirectly +influenced,--not otherwise. She called her father "Dudley," as if he had +been her brother. She ordered everybody and would be ordered by none. + +Who could know all these things, except the few people of the household? +What wonder, therefore, that ignorant and shallow persons laid the blame +on her father of those peculiarities which were freely talked about,--of +those darker tendencies which were hinted of in whispers? To all this +talk, so far as it reached him, he was supremely indifferent, not only +with the indifference which all gentlemen feel to the gossip of their +inferiors, but with a charitable calmness which did not wonder or blame. +He knew that his position was not simply a difficult, but an impossible +one, and schooled himself to bear his destiny as well as he might, and +report himself only at Headquarters. + +He had grown gentle under this discipline. His hair was just beginning +to be touched with silver, and his expression was that of habitual +sadness and anxiety. He had no counsellor, as we have seen, to turn to, +who did not know either too much or too little. He had no heart to rest +upon and into which he might unburden himself of the secrets and the +sorrows that were aching in his own breast. Yet he had not allowed +himself to run to waste in the long time since he was left alone to his +trials and fears. He had resisted the seductions which always beset +solitary men with restless brains overwrought by depressing agencies. He +disguised no misery to himself with the lying delusion of wine. He +sought no sleep from narcotics, though he lay with throbbing, wide-open +eyes through all the weary hours of the night. + +It was understood between Dudley Veneer and old Doctor Kittredge that +Elsie was a subject of occasional medical observation, on account of +certain mental peculiarities which might end in a permanent affection of +her reason. Beyond this nothing was said, whatever may have been in the +mind of either. But Dudley Veneer had studied Elsie's case in the light +of all the books he could find which might do anything towards explaining +it. As in all cases where men meddle with medical science for a special +purpose, having no previous acquaintance with it, his imagination found +what it wanted in the books he read, and adjusted it to the facts before +him. So it was he came to cherish those two fancies before alluded to +that the ominous birthmark she had carried from infancy might fade and +become obliterated, and that the age of complete maturity might be +signalized by an entire change in her physical and mental state. He held +these vague hopes as all of us nurse our only half-believed illusions. +Not for the world would he have questioned his sagacious old medical +friend as to the probability or possibility of their being true. We are +very shy of asking questions of those who know enough to destroy with one +word the hopes we live on. + +In this life of comparative seclusion to which the father had doomed +himself for the sake of his child, he had found time for large and varied +reading. The learned Judge Thornton confessed himself surprised at the +extent of Dudley Veneer's information. Doctor Kittredge found that he +was in advance of him in the knowledge of recent physiological +discoveries. He had taken pains to become acquainted with agricultural +chemistry; and the neighboring farmers owed him some useful hints about +the management of their land. He renewed his old acquaintance with the +classic authors. He loved to warm his pulses with Homer and calm them +down with Horace. He received all manner of new books and periodicals, +and gradually gained an interest in the events of the passing time. Yet +he remained almost a hermit, not absolutely refusing to see his +neighbors, nor even churlish towards them, but on the other hand not +cultivating any intimate relations with them. + +He had retired from the world a young man, little more than a youth, +indeed, with sentiments and aspirations all of them suddenly +extinguished. The first had bequeathed him a single huge sorrow, the +second a single trying duty. In due time the anguish had lost something +of its poignancy, the light of earlier and happier memories had begun to +struggle with and to soften its thick darkness, and even that duty which +he had confronted with such an effort had become an endurable habit. + +At a period of life when many have been living on the capital of their +acquired knowledge and their youthful stock of sensibilities until their +intellects are really shallower and their hearts emptier than they were +at twenty, Dudley Veneer was stronger in thought and tenderer in soul +than in the first freshness of his youth, when he counted but half his +present years. He had entered that period which marks the decline of men +who have ceased growing in knowledge and strength: from forty to fifty a +man must move upward, or the natural falling off in the vigor of life +will carry him rapidly downward. At this time his inward: nature was +richer and deeper than in any earlier period of his life. If he could +only be summoned to action, he was capable of noble service. If his +sympathies could only find an outlet, he was never so capable of love as +now; for his natural affections had been gathering in the course of all +these years, and the traces of that ineffaceable calamity of his life +were softened and partially hidden by new growths of thought and feeling, +as the wreck left by a mountainslide is covered over by the gentle +intrusion of the soft-stemmed herbs which will prepare it for the +stronger vegetation that will bring it once more into harmony with the +peaceful slopes around it. + +Perhaps Dudley Veneer had not gained so much in worldly wisdom as if he +had been more in society and less in his study. The indulgence with +which he treated his nephew was, no doubt, imprudent. A man more in the +habit of dealing with men would have been more guarded with a person with +Dick's questionable story and unquestionable physiognomy. But he was +singularly unsuspicious, and his natural kindness was an additional +motive to the wish for introducing some variety into the routine of +Elsie's life. + +If Dudley Veneer did not know just what he wanted at this period of his +life, there were a great many people in the town of Rockland who thought +they did know. He had been a widower long enough, "--nigh twenty year, +wa'n't it? He'd been aout to Spraowles's party,--there wa'n't anything +to hender him why he shouldn't stir raound l'k other folks. What was the +reason he did n't go abaout to taown-meetin's 'n' Sahbath-meetin's, 'n' +lyceums, 'n' school 'xaminations, 'n' s'prise-parties, 'n' funerals,--and +other entertainments where the still-faced two-story folks were in the +habit of looking round to see if any of the mansion-house gentry were +present?--Fac' was, he was livin' too lonesome daown there at the +mansion-haouse. Why shouldn't he make up to the Jedge's daughter? She +was genteel enough for him, and--let's see, haow old was she? +Seven-'n'itwenty,--no, six-'n'-twenty,--born the same year we buried our +little Anny Marl". + +There was no possible objection to this arrangement, if the parties +interested had seen fit to make it or even to think of it. But "Portia," +as some of the mansion-house people called her, did not happen to awaken +the elective affinities of the lonely widower. He met her once in a +while, and said to himself that she was a good specimen of the grand +style of woman; and then the image came back to him of a woman not quite +so large, not quite so imperial in her port, not quite so incisive in her +speech, not quite so judicial in her opinions, but with two or three more +joints in her frame, and two or three soft inflections in her voice, +which for some absurd reason or other drew him to her side and so +bewitched him that he told her half his secrets and looked into her eyes +all that he could not tell, in less time than it would have takes him to +discuss the champion paper of the last Quarterly with the admirable +"Portia." Heu, quanto minus! How much more was that lost image to him +than all it left on earth! + +The study of love is very much like that of meteorology. We know that +just about so much rain will fall in a season; but on what particular day +it will shower is more than we can tell. We know that just about so much +love will be made every year in a given population; but who will rain his +young affections upon the heart of whom is not known except to the +astrologers and fortune-tellers. And why rain falls as it does and why +love is made just as it is are equally puzzling questions. + +The woman a man loves is always his own daughter, far more his daughter +than the female children born to him by the common law of life. It is +not the outside woman, who takes his name, that he loves: before her +image has reached the centre of his consciousness, it has passed through +fifty many-layered nerve-strainers, been churned over by ten thousand +pulse-beats, and reacted upon by millions of lateral impulses which bandy +it about through the mental spaces as a reflection is sent back and +forward in a saloon lined with mirrors. With this altered image of the +woman before him, his preexisting ideal becomes blended. The object of +his love is in part the offspring of her legal parents, but more of her +lover's brain. The difference between the real and the ideal objects of +love must not exceed a fixed maximum. The heart's vision cannot unite +them stereoscopically into a single image, if the divergence passes +certain limits. A formidable analogy, much in the nature of a proof, +with very serious consequences, which moralists and match-makers would do +well to remember! Double vision with the eyes of the heart is a +dangerous physiological state, and may lead to missteps and serious +falls. + +Whether Dudley Veneer would ever find a breathing image near enough to +his ideal one, to fill the desolate chamber of his heart, or not, was +very doubtful. Some gracious and gentle woman, whose influence would +steal upon him as the first low words of prayer after that interval of +silent mental supplication known to one of our simpler forms of public +worship, gliding into his consciousness without hurting its old griefs, +herself knowing the chastening of sorrow, and subdued into sweet +acquiescence with the Divine will,--some such woman as this, if Heaven +should send him such, might call him back to the world of happiness, from +which he seemed forever exiled. He could never again be the young lover +who walked through the garden-alleys all red with roses in the old dead +and buried June of long ago. He could never forget the bride of his +youth, whose image, growing phantomlike with the lapse of years, hovered +over him like a dream while waking and like a reality in dreams. But if +it might be in God's good providence that this desolate life should come +under the influence of human affections once more, what an ecstasy of +renewed existence was in store for him! His life had not all been buried +under that narrow ridge of turf with the white stone at its head. It +seemed so for a while; but it was not and could not and ought not to be +so. His first passion had been a true and pure one; there was no spot or +stain upon it. With all his grief there blended no cruel recollection of +any word or look he would have wished to forget. All those little +differences, such as young married people with any individual flavor in +their characters must have, if they are tolerably mated, had only added +to the music of existence, as the lesser discords admitted into some +perfect symphony, fitly resolved, add richness and strength to the whole +harmonious movement. It was a deep wound that Fate had inflicted on him; +nay, it seemed like a mortal one; but the weapon was clean, and its edge +was smooth. Such wounds must heal with time in healthy natures, whatever +a false sentiment may say, by the wise and beneficent law of our being. +The recollection of a deep and true affection is rather a divine +nourishment for a life to grow strong upon than a poison to destroy it. + +Dudley Venner's habitual sadness could not be laid wholly to his early +bereavement. It was partly the result of the long struggle between +natural affection and duty, on one side, and the involuntary tendencies +these had to overcome, on the other,--between hope and fear, so long in +conflict that despair itself would have been like an anodyne, and he +would have slept upon some final catastrophe with the heavy sleep of a +bankrupt after his failure is proclaimed. Alas! some new affection might +perhaps rekindle the fires of youth in his heart; but what power could +calm that haggard terror of the parent which rose with every morning's +sun and watched with every evening star,--what power save alone that of +him who comes bearing the inverted torch, and leaving after him only the +ashes printed with his footsteps? + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE WIDOW ROWENS GIVES A TEA-PARTY. + +There was a good deal of interest felt, as has been said, in the lonely +condition of Dudley Venner in that fine mansion-house of his, and with +that strange daughter, who would never be married, as many people +thought, in spite of all the stories. The feelings expressed by the good +folks who dated from the time when they "buried aour little Anny Mari'," +and others of that homespun stripe, were founded in reason, after all. +And so it was natural enough that they should be shared by various +ladies, who, having conjugated the verb to live as far as the +preterpluperfect tense, were ready to change one of its vowels and begin +with it in the present indicative. Unfortunately, there was very little +chance of showing sympathy in its active form for a gentleman who kept +himself so much out of the way as the master of the Dudley Mansion. + +Various attempts had been made, from time to time, of late years, to get +him out of his study, which had, for the most part, proved failures. It +was a surprise, therefore, when he was seen at the Great Party at the +Colonel's. But it was an encouragement to try him again, and the +consequence had been that he had received a number of notes inviting him +to various smaller entertainments, which, as neither he nor Elsie had any +fancy for them, he had politely declined. + +Such was the state of things when he received an invitation to take tea +sociably, with a few friends, at Hyacinth Cottage, the residence of the +Widow Rowens, relict of the late Beeri Rowens, Esquire, better known as +Major Rowens. Major Rowens was at the time of his decease a promising +officer in the militia, in the direct line of promotion, as his waistband +was getting tighter every year; and, as all the world knows, the +militia-officer who splits off most buttons and fills the largest +sword-belt stands the best chance of rising, or, perhaps we might say, +spreading, to be General. + +Major Rowens united in his person certain other traits which help a man +to eminence in the branch of public service referred to. He ran to high +colors, to wide whiskers, to open pores; he had the saddle-leather skin +common in Englishmen, rarer in Americans,--never found in the Brahmin +caste, oftener in the military and the commodores: observing people know +what is meant; blow the seed-arrows from the white-kid-looking button +which holds them on a dandelion-stalk, and the pricked-pincushion surface +shows you what to look for. He had the loud gruff voice which implies +the right to command. He had the thick hand, stubbed fingers, with +bristled pads between their joints, square, broad thumb-nails, and sturdy +limbs, which mark a constitution made to use in rough out-door work. He +had the never-failing predilection for showy switch-tailed horses that +step high, and sidle about, and act as if they were going to do something +fearful the next minute, in the face of awed and admiring multitudes +gathered at mighty musters or imposing cattle-shows. He had no +objection, either, to holding the reins in a wagon behind another kind of +horse,--a slouching, listless beast, with a strong slant to his shoulder; +and a notable depth to his quarter and an emphatic angle at the hock, who +commonly walked or lounged along in a lazy trot of five or six miles an +hour; but, if a lively colt happened to come rattling up alongside, or a +brandy-faced old horse-jockey took the road to show off a fast nag, and +threw his dust into the Major's face, would pick his legs up all at once, +and straighten his body out, and swing off into a three-minute gait, in a +way that "Old Blue" himself need not have been ashamed of. + +For some reason which must be left to the next generation of professors +to find out, the men who are knowing in horse-flesh have an eye also for, +let a long dash separate the brute creation from the angelic being now to +be named,--for lovely woman. Of this fact there can be no possible +doubt; and therefore you shall notice, that, if a fast horse trots before +two, one of the twain is apt to be a pretty bit of muliebrity, with +shapes to her, and eyes flying about in all directions. + +Major Rowens, at that time Lieutenant of the Rockland Fusileers, had +driven and "traded" horses not a few before he turned his acquired skill +as a judge of physical advantages in another direction. He knew a neat, +snug hoof, a delicate pastern, a broad haunch, a deep chest, a close +ribbed-up barrel, as well as any other man in the town. He was not to be +taken in by your thick-jointed, heavy-headed cattle, without any go to +them, that suit a country-parson, nor yet by the "gaanted-up," +long-legged animals, with all their constitutions bred out of them, such +as rich greenhorns buy and cover up with their plated trappings. + +Whether his equine experience was of any use to him in the selection of +the mate with whom he was to go in double harness so long as they both +should live, we need not stop to question. At any rate, nobody could +find fault with the points of Miss Marilla Van Deusen, to whom he offered +the privilege of becoming Mrs. Rowens. The Van must have been crossed +out of her blood, for she was an out-and-out brunette, with hair and eyes +black enough for a Mohawk's daughter. A fine style of woman, with very +striking tints and outlines,--an excellent match for the Lieutenant, +except for one thing. She was marked by Nature for a widow. She was +evidently got up for mourning, and never looked so well as in deep black, +with jet ornaments. + +The man who should dare to marry her would doom himself; for how could +she become the widow she was bound to be, unless he could retire and give +her a chance? The Lieutenant lived, however, as we have seen, to become +Captain and then Major, with prospects of further advancement. But Mrs. +Rowens often said she should never look well in colors. At last her +destiny fulfilled itself, and the justice of Nature was vindicated. +Major Rowens got overheated galloping about the field on the day of the +Great Muster, and had a rush of blood to the head, according to the +common report,--at any rate, something which stopped him short in his +career of expansion and promotion, and established Mrs. Rowens in her +normal condition of widowhood. + +The Widow Rowens was now in the full bloom of ornamental sorrow. A very +shallow crape bonnet, frilled and froth-like, allowed the parted raven +hair to show its glossy smoothness. A jet pin heaved upon her bosom with +every sigh of memory, or emotion of unknown origin. Jet bracelets shone +with every movement of her slender hands, cased in close-fitting black +gloves. Her sable dress was ridged with manifold flounces, from beneath +which a small foot showed itself from time to time, clad in the same hue +of mourning. Everything about her was dark, except the whites of her +eyes and the enamel of her teeth. The effect was complete. Gray's Elegy +was not a more perfect composition. + +Much as the Widow was pleased with the costume belonging to her +condition, she did not disguise from herself that under certain +circumstances she might be willing to change her name again. Thus, for +instance, if a gentleman not too far gone in maturity, of dignified +exterior, with an ample fortune, and of unexceptionable character, should +happen to set his heart upon her, and the only way to make him happy was +to give up her weeds and go into those unbecoming colors again for his +sake,--why, she felt that it was in her nature to make the sacrifice. By +a singular coincidence it happened that a gentleman was now living in +Rockland who united in himself all these advantages. Who he was, the +sagacious reader may very probably have divined. Just to see how it +looked, one day, having bolted her door, and drawn the curtains close, +and glanced under the sofa, and listened at the keyhole to be sure there +was nobody in the entry,--just to see how it looked, she had taken out an +envelope and written on the back of it Mrs. Manilla Veneer. It made her +head swim and her knees tremble. What if she should faint, or die, or +have a stroke of palsy, and they should break into the room and find that +name written! How she caught it up and tore it into little shreds, and +then could not be easy until she had burned the small heap of pieces-- + +But these are things which every honorable reader will consider imparted +in strict confidence. + +The Widow Rowens, though not of the mansion house set, was among the most +genteel of the two-story circle, and was in the habit of visiting some of +the great people. In one of these visits she met a dashing young fellow +with an olive complexion at the house of a professional gentleman who had +married one of the white necks and pairs of fat arms from a distinguished +family before referred to. The professional gentleman himself was out, +but the lady introduced the olive-complexioned young man as Mr. Richard +Venner. + +The Widow was particularly pleased with this accidental meeting. Had +heard Mr. Venner's name frequently mentioned. Hoped his uncle was well, +and his charming cousin,--was she as original as ever? Had often admired +that charming creature he rode: we had had some fine horses. Had never +got over her taste for riding, but could find nobody that liked a good +long gallop since--well--she could n't help wishing she was alongside of +him, the other day, when she saw him dashing by, just at twilight. + +The Widow paused; lifted a flimsy handkerchief with a very deep black +border so as to play the jet bracelet; pushed the tip of her slender foot +beyond the lowest of her black flounces; looked up; looked down; looked +at Mr. Richard, the very picture of artless simplicity,--as represented +in well-played genteel comedy. + +"A good bit of stuff," Dick said to himself, "and something of it left +yet; caramba!" The Major had not studied points for nothing, and the +Widow was one of the right sort. The young man had been a little +restless of late, and was willing to vary his routine by picking up an +acquaintance here and there. So he took the Widow's hint. He should +like to have a scamper of half a dozen miles with her some fine morning. + +The Widow was infinitely obliged; was not sure that she could find any +horse in the village to suit her; but it was so kind in him! Would he not +call at Hyacinth Cottage, and let her thank him again there? + +Thus began an acquaintance which the Widow made the most of, and on the +strength of which she determined to give a tea-party and invite a number +of persons of whom we know something already. She took a half-sheet of +note-paper and made out her list as carefully as a country "merchant's +clerk" adds up two and threepence (New-England nomenclature) and twelve +and a half cents, figure by figure, and fraction by fraction, before he +can be sure they will make half a dollar, without cheating somebody. +After much consideration the list reduced itself to the following names: +Mr. Richard Venner and Mrs. Blanche Creamer, the lady at whose house she +had met him,--mansion-house breed,--but will come,--soft on Dick; Dudley +Venner,--take care of him herself; Elsie,--Dick will see to her,--won't +it fidget the Creamer woman to see him round her? the old Doctor,--he 's +always handy; and there's that young master there, up at the +school,--know him well enough to ask him,--oh, yes, he'll come. One, +two, three, four, five, six,--seven; not room enough, without the leaf in +the table; one place empty, if the leaf's in. Let's see,--Helen Darley, +--she 'll do well enough to fill it up,--why, yes, just the thing, +--light brown hair, blue eyes,--won't my pattern show off well against +her? Put her down,--she 's worth her tea and toast ten times over, +--nobody knows what a "thunder-and-lightning woman," as poor Major used +to have it, is, till she gets alongside of one of those old-maidish +girls, with hair the color of brown sugar, and eyes like the blue of a +teacup. + +The Widow smiled with a feeling of triumph at having overcome her +difficulties and arranged her party,--arose and stood before her glass, +three-quarters front, one-quarter profile, so as to show the whites of +the eyes and the down of the upper lip. "Splendid!" said the Widow--and +to tell the truth, she was not far out of the way, and with Helen Darley +as a foil anybody would know she must be foudroyant and pyramidal,--if +these French adjectives may be naturalized for this one particular +exigency. + +So the Widow sent out her notes. The black grief which had filled her +heart and had overflowed in surges of crape around her person had left a +deposit half an inch wide at the margin of her note-paper. Her seal was a +small youth with an inverted torch, the same on which Mrs. Blanche +Creamer made her spiteful remark, that she expected to see that boy of +the Widow's standing on his head yet; meaning, as Dick supposed, that she +would get the torch right-side up as soon as she had a chance. That was +after Dick had made the Widow's acquaintance, and Mrs. Creamer had got it +into her foolish head that she would marry that young fellow, if she +could catch him. How could he ever come to fancy such a quadroon-looking +thing as that, she should like to know? + +It is easy enough to ask seven people to a party; but whether they will +come or not is an open question, as it was in the case of the spirits of +the vasty deep. If the note issues from a three-story mansion-house, and +goes to two-story acquaintances, they will all be in an excellent state +of health, and have much pleasure in accepting this very polite +invitation. If the note is from the lady of a two-story family to +three-story ones, the former highly respectable person will very probably +find that an endemic complaint is prevalent, not represented in the +weekly bills of mortality, which occasions numerous regrets in the bosoms +of eminently desirable parties that they cannot have the pleasure of +and-so-forthing. + +In this case there was room for doubt,--mainly as to whether Elsie would +take a fancy to come or not. If she should come, her father would +certainly be with her. Dick had promised, and thought he could bring +Elsie. Of course the young schoolmaster will come, and that poor +tired-out looking Helen, if only to get out of sight of those horrid +Peckham wretches. They don't get such invitations every day. The others +she felt sure of,--all but the old Doctor,--he might have some horrid +patient or other to visit; tell him Elsie Venner's going to be there,--he +always likes to have an eye on her, they say,--oh, he'd come fast enough, +without any more coaxing. + +She wanted the Doctor, particularly. It was odd, but she was afraid of +Elsie. She felt as if she should be safe enough, if the old Doctor were +there to see to the girl; and then she should have leisure to devote +herself more freely to the young lady's father, for whom all her +sympathies were in a state of lively excitement. + +It was a long time since the Widow had seen so many persons round her +table as she had now invited. Better have the plates set and see how +they will fill it up with the leaf in.--A little too scattering with only +eight plates set: if she could find two more people, now, that would +bring the chairs a little closer,--snug, you know,--which makes the +company sociable. The Widow thought over her acquaintances. Why how +stupid! there was her good minister, the same who had married her, and +might--might--bury her for aught she anew, and his granddaughter staying +with him,--nice little girl, pretty, and not old enough to be +dangerous;--for the Widow had no notion of making a tea-party and asking +people to it that would be like to stand between her and any little +project she might happen to have on anybody's heart,--not she! It was +all right now; Blanche was married and so forth; Letty was a child; Elsie +was his daughter; Helen Darley was a nice, worthy drudge,--poor +thing!--faded, faded,--colors wouldn't wash, just what she wanted to show +off against. Now, if the Dudley mansion-house people would only +come,--that was the great point. + +"Here's a note for us, Elsie," said her father, as they sat round the +breakfast-table. "Mrs. Rowens wants us all to come to tea." + +It was one of "Elsie's days," as old Sophy called them. The light in her +eyes was still, but very bright. She looked up so full of perverse and +wilful impulses, that Dick knew he could make her go with him and her +father. He had his own motives for bringing her to this +determination,--and his own way of setting about it. + +"I don't want to go," he said. "What do you say, uncle?" + +"To tell the truth, Richard, I don't mach fancy the Major's widow. I +don't like to see her weeds flowering out quite so strong. I suppose you +don't care about going, Elsie?" + +Elsie looked up in her father's face with an expression which he knew but +too well. She was just in the state which the plain sort of people call +"contrary," when they have to deal with it in animals. She would insist +on going to that tea-party; he knew it just as well before she spoke as +after she had spoken. If Dick had said he wanted to go and her father +had seconded his wishes, she would have insisted on staying at home. It +was no great matter, her father said to himself, after all; very likely +it would amuse her; the Widow was a lively woman enough,--perhaps a +little comme il ne faut pas socially, compared with the Thorntons and +some other families; but what did he care for these petty village +distinctions? + +Elsie spoke. + +"I mean to go. You must go with me, Dudley. You may do as you like, +Dick." + +That settled the Dudley-mansion business, of course. They all three +accepted, as fortunately did all the others who had been invited. + +Hyacinth Cottage was a pretty place enough, a little too much choked +round with bushes, and too much overrun with climbing-roses, which, in +the season of slugs and rose-bugs, were apt to show so brown about the +leaves and so coleopterous about the flowers, that it might be questioned +whether their buds and blossoms made up for these unpleasant animal +combinations,--especially as the smell of whale-oil soap was very +commonly in the ascendant over that of the roses. It had its patch of +grass called "the lawn," and its glazed closet known as "the +conservatory," according to that system of harmless fictions +characteristic of the rural imagination and shown in the names applied to +many familiar objects. The interior of the cottage was more tasteful and +ambitious than that of the ordinary two-story dwellings. In place of the +prevailing hair-cloth covered furniture, the visitor had the satisfaction +of seating himself upon a chair covered with some of the Widow's +embroidery, or a sofa luxurious with soft caressing plush. The sporting +tastes of the late Major showed in various prints on the wall: Herring's +"Plenipotentiary," the "red bullock" of the '34 Derby; "Cadland" and "The +Colonel;" "Crucifix;" "West-Australian," fastest of modern racers; and +among native celebrities, ugly, game old "Boston," with his straight neck +and ragged hips; and gray "Lady Suffolk," queen, in her day, not of the +turf but of the track, "extending" herself till she measured a rod, more +or less, skimming along within a yard of the ground, her legs opening and +shutting under her with a snap, like the four blades of a compound +jack-knife. + +These pictures were much more refreshing than those dreary fancy +death-bed scenes, common in two-story country-houses, in which Washington +and other distinguished personages are represented as obligingly devoting +their last moments to taking a prominent part in a tableau, in which +weeping relatives, attached servants, professional assistants, and +celebrated personages who might by a stretch of imagination be supposed +present, are grouped in the most approved style of arrangement about the +chief actor's pillow. + +A single glazed bookcase held the family library, which was hidden from +vulgar eyes by green silk curtains behind the glass. It would have been +instructive to get a look at it, as it always is to peep into one's +neighbor's book-shelves. From other sources and opportunities a partial +idea of it has been obtained. The Widow had inherited some books from +her mother, who was something of a reader: Young's "Night-Thoughts;" "The +Preceptor;" "The Task, a Poem," by William Cowper; Hervey's +"Meditations;" "Alonzo and Melissa;" "Buccaneers of America;" "The +Triumphs of Temper;" "La Belle Assemblee;" Thomson's "Seasons;" and a few +others. The Major had brought in "Tom Jones" and "Peregrine Pickle;" +various works by Mr. Pierce Egan; "Boxiana," "The Racing Calendar;" and a +"Book of Lively Songs and Jests." The Widow had added the Poems of Lord +Byron and T. Moore; "Eugene Aram;" "The Tower of London," by Harrison +Ainsworth; some of Scott's Novels; "The Pickwick Papers;" a volume of +Plays, by W. Shakespeare; "Proverbial Philosophy;" "Pilgrim's Progress;" +"The Whole Duty of Man" (a present when she was married); with two +celebrated religious works, one by William Law and the other by Philip +Doddridge, which were sent her after her husband's death, and which she +had tried to read, but found that they did not agree with her. Of course +the bookcase held a few school manuals and compendiums, and one of Mr. +Webster's Dictionaries. But the gilt-edged Bible always lay on the +centre-table, next to the magazine with the fashion-plates and the +scrap-book with pictures from old annuals and illustrated papers. + +The reader need not apprehend the recital, at full length, of such +formidable preparations for the Widow's tea-party as were required in the +case of Colonel Sprowle's Social Entertainment. A tea-party, even in the +country, is a comparatively simple and economical piece of business. As +soon as the Widow found that all her company were coming, she set to +work, with the aid of her "smart" maid-servant and a daughter of her own, +who was beginning to stretch and spread at a fearful rate, but whom she +treated as a small child, to make the necessary preparations. The silver +had to be rubbed; also the grand plated urn,--her mother's before +hers,--style of the Empire,--looking as if it might have been made to +hold the Major's ashes. Then came the making and baking of cake and +gingerbread, the smell whereof reached even as far as the sidewalk in +front of the cottage, so that small boys returning from school snuffed it +in the breeze, and discoursed with each other on its suggestions; so that +the Widow Leech, who happened to pass, remembered she had n't called on +Marilly Raowens for a consid'ble spell, and turned in at the gate and +rang three times with long intervals,--but all in vain, the inside Widow +having "spotted" the outside one through the blinds, and whispered to her +aides-de-camp to let the old thing ring away till she pulled the bell out +by the roots, but not to stir to open the door. + +Widow Rowens was what they called a real smart, capable woman, not very +great on books, perhaps, but knew what was what and who was who as well +as another,--knew how to make the little cottage look pretty, how to set +out a tea-table, and, what a good many women never can find out, knew her +own style and "got herself up tip-top," as our young friend Master +Geordie, Colonel Sprowle's heir-apparent, remarked to his friend from one +of the fresh-water colleges. Flowers were abundant now, and she had +dressed her rooms tastefully with them. The centre-table had two or +three gilt-edged books lying carelessly about on it, and some prints and +a stereoscope with stereographs to match, chiefly groups of picnics, +weddings, etc., in which the same somewhat fatigued looking ladies of +fashion and brides received the attentions of the same unpleasant-looking +young men, easily identified under their different disguises, consisting +of fashionable raiment such as gentlemen are supposed to wear habitually. +With these, however, were some pretty English scenes,--pretty except for +the old fellow with the hanging under-lip who infests every one of that +interesting series; and a statue or two, especially that famous one +commonly called the Lahcoon, so as to rhyme with moon and spoon, and +representing an old man with his two sons in the embraces of two +monstrous serpents. + +There is no denying that it was a very dashing achievement of the Widow's +to bring together so considerable a number of desirable guests. She felt +proud of her feat; but as to the triumph of getting Dudley Venner to come +out for a visit to Hyacinth Cottage, she was surprised and almost +frightened at her own success. So much might depend on the impressions +of that evening! + +The next thing was to be sure that everybody should be in the right place +at the tea-table, and this the Widow thought she could manage by a few +words to the older guests and a little shuffling about and shifting when +they got to the table. To settle everything the Widow made out a +diagram, which the reader should have a chance of inspecting in an +authentic copy, if these pages were allowed under any circumstances to be +the vehicle of illustrations. If, however, he or she really wishes to +see the way the pieces stood as they were placed at the beginning of the +game, (the Widow's gambit,) he or she had better at once take a sheet of +paper, draw an oval, and arrange the characters according to the +following schedule. + +At the head of the table, the Hostess, Widow Marilla Rowens. Opposite +her, at the other end, Rev. Dr. Honeywood. At the right of the Hostess, +Dudley Veneer, next him Helen Darley, next her Dr. Kittredge, next him +Mrs. Blanche Creamer, then the Reverend Doctor. At the left of the +Hostess, Bernard Langdon, next him Letty Forrester, next Letty Mr. +Richard Veneer, next him Elsie, and so to the Reverend Doctor again. + +The company came together a little before the early hour at which it was +customary to take tea in Rockland. The Widow knew everybody, of course: +who was there in Rockland she did not know? But some of them had to be +introduced: Mr. Richard Veneer to Mr. Bernard, Mr. Bernard to Miss Letty, +Dudley Veneer to Miss Helen Darley, and so on. The two young men looked +each other straight in the eyes, both full of youthful life, but one of +frank and fearless aspect, the other with a dangerous feline beauty alien +to the New England half of his blood. + +The guests talked, turned over the prints, looked at the flowers, opened +the "Proverbial Philosophy" with gilt edges, and the volume of Plays by +W. Shakespeare, examined the horse-pictures on the walls, and so passed +away the time until tea was announced, when they paired off for the room +where it was in readiness. The Widow had managed it well; everything was +just as she wanted it. Dudley Veneer was between herself and the poor +tired-looking schoolmistress with her faded colors. Blanche Creamer, a +lax, tumble-to-pieces, Greuze-ish looking blonde, whom the Widow hated +because the men took to her, was purgatoried between the two old Doctors, +and could see all the looks that passed between Dick Venner and his +cousin. The young schoolmaster could talk to Miss Letty: it was his +business to know how to talk to schoolgirls. Dick would amuse himself +with his cousin Elsie. The old Doctors only wanted to be well fed and +they would do well enough. + +It would be very pleasant to describe the tea-table; but in reality, it +did not pretend to offer a plethoric banquet to the guests. The Widow +had not visited the mansion-houses for nothing, and she had learned there +that an overloaded tea-table may do well enough for farm-hands when they +come in at evening from their work and sit down unwashed in their +shirtsleeves, but that for decently bred people such an insult to the +memory of a dinner not yet half-assimilated is wholly inadmissible. +Everything was delicate, and almost everything of fair complexion: white +bread and biscuits, frosted and sponge cake, cream, honey, straw-colored +butter; only a shadow here and there, where the fire had crisped and +browned the surfaces of a stack of dry toast, or where a preserve had +brought away some of the red sunshine of the last year's summer. The +Widow shall have the credit of her well-ordered tea-table, also of her +bountiful cream-pitchers; for it is well known that city-people find +cream a very scarce luxury in a good many country-houses of more +pretensions than Hyacinth Cottage. There are no better maims for ladies +who give tea-parties than these: + +Cream is thicker than water. Large heart never loved little cream pot. + +There is a common feeling in genteel families that the third meal of the +day is not so essential a part of the daily bread as to require any +especial acknowledgment to the Providence which bestows it. Very devout +people, who would never sit down to a breakfast or a dinner without the +grace before meat which honors the Giver of it, feel as if they thanked +Heaven enough for their tea and toast by partaking of them cheerfully +without audible petition or ascription. But the Widow was not exactly +mansion-house-bred, and so thought it necessary to give the Reverend +Doctor a peculiar look which he understood at once as inviting his +professional services. He, therefore, uttered a few simple words of +gratitude, very quietly,--much to the satisfaction of some of the guests, +who had expected one of those elaborate effusions, with rolling up of the +eyes and rhetorical accents, so frequent with eloquent divines when they +address their Maker in genteel company. + +Everybody began talking with the person sitting next at hand. Mr. +Bernard naturally enough turned his attention first to the Widow; but +somehow or other the right side of the Widow seemed to be more wide awake +than the left side, next him, and he resigned her to the courtesies of +Mr. Dudley Venner, directing himself, not very unwillingly, to the young +girl next him on the other side. Miss Letty Forrester, the granddaughter +of the Reverend Doctor, was city-bred, as anybody might see, and +city-dressed, as any woman would know at sight; a man might only feel the +general effect of clear, well-matched colors, of harmonious proportions, +of the cut which makes everything cling like a bather's sleeve where a +natural outline is to be kept, and ruffle itself up like the hackle of a +pitted fighting-cock where art has a right to luxuriate in silken +exuberance. How this citybred and city-dressed girl came to be in +Rockland Mr. Bernard did not know, but he knew at any rate that she was +his next neighbor and entitled to his courtesies. She was handsome, too, +when he came to look, very handsome when he came to look again,--endowed +with that city beauty which is like the beauty of wall-fruit, something +finer in certain respects than can be reared off the pavement. + +The miserable routinists who keep repeating invidiously Cowper's + + "God made the country and man made the town," + +as if the town were a place to kill out the race in, do not know what +they are talking about. Where could they raise such Saint-Michael pears, +such Saint-Germains, such Brown-Beurres, as we had until within a few +years growing within the walls of our old city-gardens? Is the dark and +damp cavern where a ragged beggar hides himself better than a +town-mansion which fronts the sunshine and backs on its own cool shadow, +with gas and water and all appliances to suit all needs? God made the +cavern and man made the house! What then? + +There is no doubt that the pavement keeps a deal of mischief from coming +up out of the earth, and, with a dash off of it in summer, just to cool +the soles of the feet when it gets too hot, is the best place for many +constitutions, as some few practical people have already discovered. And +just so these beauties that grow and ripen against the city-walls, these +young fellows with cheeks like peaches and young girls with cheeks like +nectarines, show that the most perfect forms of artificial life can do as +much for the human product as garden-culture for strawberries and +blackberries. + +If Mr. Bernard had philosophized or prosed in this way, with so pretty, +nay, so lovely a neighbor as Miss Letty Forrester waiting for him to +speak to her, he would have to be dropped from this narrative as a person +unworthy of his good-fortune, and not deserving the kind reader's further +notice. On the contrary, he no sooner set his eyes fairly on her than he +said to himself that she was charming, and that he wished she were one of +his scholars at the Institute. So he began talking with her in an easy +way; for he knew something of young girls by this time, and, of course, +could adapt himself to a young lady who looked as if she might be not +more than fifteen or sixteen years old, and therefore could hardly be a +match in intellectual resources for the seventeen and eighteen year-old +first-class scholars of the Apollinean Institute. But city-wall-fruit +ripens early, and he soon found that this girl's training had so +sharpened her wits and stored her memory, that he need not be at the +trouble to stoop painfully in order to come down to her level. + +The beauty of good-breeding is that it adjusts itself to all relations +without effort, true to itself always however the manners of those around +it may change. Self-respect and respect for others,--the sensitive +consciousness poises itself in these as the compass in the ship's +binnacle balances itself and maintains its true level within the two +concentric rings which suspend it on their pivots. This thorough-bred +school-girl quite enchanted Mr. Bernard. He could not understand where +she got her style, her way of dress, her enunciation, her easy manners. +The minister was a most worthy gentleman, but this was not the Rockland +native-born manner; some new element had come in between the good, plain, +worthy man and this young girl, fit to be a Crown Prince's partner where +there were a thousand to choose from. + +He looked across to Helen Darley, for he knew she would understand the +glance of admiration with which he called her attention to the young +beauty at his side; and Helen knew what a young girl could be, as +compared with what too many a one is, as well as anybody. + +This poor, dear Helen of ours! How admirable the contrast between her +and the Widow on the other side of Dudley Venner! But, what was very +odd, that gentleman apparently thought the contrast was to the advantage +of this poor, dear Helen. At any rate, instead of devoting himself +solely to the Widow, he happened to be just at that moment talking in a +very interested and, apparently, not uninteresting way to his right-hand +neighbor, who, on her part, never looked more charmingly,--as Mr. Bernard +could not help saying to himself,--but, to be sure, he had just been +looking at the young girl next him, so that his eyes were brimful of +beauty, and may have spilled some of it on the first comer: for you know +M. Becquerel has been showing us lately how everything is phosphorescent; +that it soaks itself with light in an instant's exposure, so that it is +wet with liquid sunbeams, or, if you will, tremulous with luminous +vibrations, when first plunged into the negative bath of darkness, and +betrays itself by the light which escapes from its surface. + +Whatever were the reason, this poor, dear Helen never looked so sweetly. +Her plainly parted brown hair, her meek, blue eyes, her cheek just a +little tinged with color, the almost sad simplicity of her dress, and +that look he knew so well,--so full of cheerful patience, so sincere, +that he had trusted her from the first moment as the believers of the +larger half of Christendom trust the Blessed Virgin,--Mr. Bernard took +this all in at a glance, and felt as pleased as if it had been his own +sister Dorothea Elizabeth that he was looking at. As for Dudley Veneer, +Mr. Bernard could not help being struck by the animated expression of his +countenance. It certainly showed great kindness, on his part, to pay so +much attention to this quiet girl, when he had the thunder-and-lightning +Widow on the other side of him. + +Mrs. Marilla Rowens did not know what to make of it. She had made her +tea-party expressly for Mr. Dudley Veneer. She had placed him just as +she wanted, between herself and a meek, delicate woman who dressed in +gray, wore a plain breastpin with hair in it, who taught a pack of girls +up there at the school, and looked as if she were born for a +teacher,--the very best foil that she could have chosen; and here was +this man, polite enough to herself, to be sure, but turning round to that +very undistinguished young person as if he rather preferred her +conversation of the two! + +The truth was that Dudley Veneer and Helen Darley met as two travellers +might meet in the desert, wearied, both of them, with their long journey, +one having food, but no water, the other water, but no food. Each saw +that the other had been in long conflict with some trial; for their +voices were low and tender, as patiently borne sorrow and humbly uttered +prayers make every human voice. Through these tones, more than by what +they said, they came into natural sympathetic relations with each other. +Nothing could be more unstudied. As for Dudley Venner, no beauty in all +the world could have so soothed and magnetized him as the very repose and +subdued gentleness which the Widow had thought would make the best +possible background for her own more salient and effective attractions. +No doubt, Helen, on her side, was almost too readily pleased with the +confidence this new acquaintance she was making seemed to show her from +the very first. She knew so few men of any condition! Mr. Silas +Peckham: he was her employer, and she ought to think of him as well as +she could; but every time she thought of him it was with a shiver of +disgust. Mr. Bernard Langdon: a noble young man, a true friend, like a +brother to her,--God bless him, and send him some young heart as fresh as +his own! But this gentleman produced a new impression upon her, quite +different from any to which she was accustomed. His rich, low tones had +the strangest significance to her; she felt sure he must have lived +through long experiences, sorrowful like her own. Elsie's father! She +looked into his dark eyes, as she listened to him, to see if they had any +glimmer of that peculiar light, diamond-bright, but cold and still, which +she knew so well in Elsie's. Anything but that! Never was there more +tenderness, it seemed to her, than in the whole look and expression of +Elsie's father. She must have been a great trial to him; yet his face +was that of one who had been saddened, not soured, by his discipline. +Knowing what Elsie must be to him, how hard she must make any parent's +life, Helen could not but be struck with the interest Mr. Dudley Venner +showed in her as his daughter's instructress. He was too kind to her; +again and again she meekly turned from him, so as to leave him free to +talk to the showy lady at his other side, who was looking all the while + + "like the night + Of cloudless realms and starry skies;" + +but still Mr. Dudley Venner, after a few courteous words, came back to +the blue eyes and brown hair; still he kept his look fixed upon her, and +his tones grew sweeter and lower as he became more interested in talk, +until this poor, dear Helen, what with surprise, and the bashfulness +natural to one who had seen little of the gay world, and the stirring of +deep, confused sympathies with this suffering father, whose heart seemed +so full of kindness, felt her cheeks glowing with unwonted flame, and +betrayed the pleasing trouble of her situation by looking so sweetly as +to arrest Mr. Bernard's eye for a moment, when he looked away from the +young beauty sitting next him. + +Elsie meantime had been silent, with that singular, still, watchful look +which those who knew her well had learned to fear. Her head just a +little inclined on one side, perfectly motionless for whole minutes, her +eyes seeming to, grow small and bright, as always when she was under her +evil influence, she was looking obliquely at the young girl on the other +side of her cousin Dick and next to Bernard Langdon. As for Dick +himself, she seemed to be paying very little attention to him. Sometimes +her eyes would wander off to Mr. Bernard, and their expression, as old +Dr. Kittredge, who watched her for a while pretty keenly, noticed, would +change perceptibly. One would have said that she looked with a kind of +dull hatred at the girl, but with a half-relenting reproachful anger at +Mr. Bernard. + +Miss Letty Forrester, at whom Elsie had been looking from time to time in +this fixed way, was conscious meanwhile of some unusual influence. First +it was a feeling of constraint,--then, as it were, a diminished power +over the muscles, as if an invisible elastic cobweb were spinning round +her,--then a tendency to turn away from Mr. Bernard, who was making +himself very agreeable, and look straight into those eyes which would not +leave her, and which seemed to be drawing her towards them, while at the +same time they chilled the blood in all her veins. + +Mr. Bernard saw this influence coming over her. All at once he noticed +that she sighed, and that some little points of moisture began to glisten +on her forehead. But she did not grow pale perceptibly; she had no +involuntary or hysteric movements; she still listened to him and smiled +naturally enough. Perhaps she was only nervous at being stared at. At +any rate, she was coming under some unpleasant influence or other, and +Mr. Bernard had seen enough of the strange impression Elsie sometimes +produced to wish this young girl to be relieved from it, whatever it was. +He turned toward Elsie and looked at her in such a way as to draw her +eyes upon him. Then he looked steadily and calmly into them. It was a +great effort, for some perfectly inexplicable reason. At one instant he +thought he could not sit where he was; he must go and speak to Elsie. +Then he wanted to take his eyes away from hers; there was something +intolerable in the light that came from them. But he was determined to +look her down, and he believed he could do it, for he had seen her +countenance change more than once when he had caught her gaze steadily +fixed on him. All this took not minutes, but seconds. Presently she +changed color slightly,--lifted her head, which was inclined a little to +one side,--shut and opened her eyes two or three times, as if they had +been pained or wearied,--and turned away baffled, and shamed, as it would +seem, and shorn for the time of her singular and formidable or at least +evil-natured power of swaying the impulses of those around her. + +It takes too long to describe these scenes where a good deal of life is +concentrated into a few silent seconds. Mr. Richard Veneer had sat +quietly through it all, although this short pantomime had taken place +literally before his face. He saw what was going on well enough, and +understood it all perfectly well. Of course the schoolmaster had been +trying to make Elsie jealous, and had succeeded. The little schoolgirl +was a decoy-duck,--that was all. Estates like the Dudley property were +not to be had every day, and no doubt the Yankee usher was willing to +take some pains to make sure of Elsie. Does n't Elsie look savage? Dick +involuntarily moved his chair a little away from her, and thought he felt +a pricking in the small white scars on his wrist. A dare-devil fellow, +but somehow or other this girl had taken strange hold of his imagination, +and he often swore to himself, that, when he married her, he would carry +a loaded revolver with him to his bridal chamber. + +Mrs. Blanche Creamer raged inwardly at first to find herself between the +two old gentlemen of the party. It very soon gave her great comfort, +however, to see that Marilla, Rowens had just missed it in her +calculations, and she chuckled immensely to find Dudley Veneer devoting +himself chiefly to Helen Darley. If the Rowens woman should hook Dudley, +she felt as if she should gnaw all her nails off for spite. To think of +seeing her barouching about Rockland behind a pair of long-tailed bays +and a coachman with a band on his hat, while she, Blanche Creamer, was +driving herself about in a one-horse "carriage"! Recovering her spirits +by degrees, she began playing her surfaces off at the two old Doctors, +just by way of practice. First she heaved up a glaring white shoulder, +the right one, so that the Reverend Doctor should be stunned by it, if +such a thing might be. The Reverend Doctor was human, as the Apostle was +not ashamed to confess himself. Half-devoutly and half-mischievously he +repeated inwardly, "Resist the Devil and he will flee from you." As the +Reverend Doctor did not show any lively susceptibility, she thought she +would try the left shoulder on old Dr. Kittredge. That worthy and +experienced student of science was not at all displeased with the +manoeuvre, and lifted his head so as to command the exhibition through +his glasses. "Blanche is good for half a dozen years or so, if she is +careful," the Doctor said to himself, "and then she must take to her +prayer-book." After this spasmodic failure of Mrs. Blanche Creamer's to +stir up the old Doctors, she returned again to the pleasing task of +watching the Widow in her evident discomfiture. But dark as the Widow +looked in her half-concealed pet, she was but as a pale shadow, compared +to Elsie in her silent concentration of shame and anger. + +"Well, there is one good thing," said Mrs. Blanche Creamer; "Dick doesn't +get much out of that cousin of his this evening! Does n't he look +handsome, though?" + +So Mrs. Blanche, being now a good deal taken up with her observations of +those friends of hers and ours, began to be rather careless of her two +old Doctors, who naturally enough fell into conversation with each other +across the white surfaces of that lady, perhaps not very politely, but, +under the, circumstances, almost as a matter of necessity. + +When a minister and a doctor get talking together, they always have a +great deal to say; and so it happened that the company left the table +just as the two Doctors were beginning to get at each other's ideas about +various interesting matters. If we follow them into the other parlor, we +can, perhaps, pick up something of their conversation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +WHY DOCTORS DIFFER. + +The company rearranged itself with some changes after leaving the +tea-table. Dudley Veneer was very polite to the Widow; but that lady +having been called off for a few moments for some domestic arrangement, +he slid back to the side of Helen Darley, his daughter's faithful +teacher. Elsie had got away by herself, and was taken up in studying the +stereoscopic Laocoon. Dick, being thus set free, had been seized upon by +Mrs. Blanche Creamer, who had diffused herself over three-quarters of a +sofa and beckoned him to the remaining fourth. Mr. Bernard and Miss +Letty were having a snug fete-'a-fete in the recess of a bay-window. The +two Doctors had taken two arm-chairs and sat squared off against each +other. Their conversation is perhaps as well worth reporting as that of +the rest of the company, and, as it was carried on in a louder tone, was +of course more easy to gather and put on record. + +It was a curious sight enough to see those two representatives of two +great professions brought face to face to talk over the subjects they had +been looking at all their lives from such different points of view. Both +were old; old enough to have been moulded by their habits of thought and +life; old enough to have all their beliefs "fretted in," as vintners +say,--thoroughly worked up with their characters. Each of them looked his +calling. The Reverend Doctor had lived a good deal among books in his +study; the Doctor, as we will call the medical gentleman, had been riding +about the country for between thirty and forty years. His face looked +tough and weather-worn; while the Reverend Doctor's, hearty as it +appeared, was of finer texture. The Doctor's was the graver of the two; +there was something of grimness about it, partly owing to the +northeasters he had faced for so many years, partly to long companionship +with that stern personage who never deals in sentiment or pleasantry. +His speech was apt to be brief and peremptory; it was a way he had got by +ordering patients; but he could discourse somewhat, on occasion, as the +reader may find out. The Reverend Doctor had an open, smiling +expression, a cheery voice, a hearty laugh, and a cordial way with him +which some thought too lively for his cloth, but which children, who are +good judges of such matters, delighted in, so that he was the favorite of +all the little rogues about town. But he had the clerical art of +sobering down in a moment, when asked to say grace while somebody was in +the middle of some particularly funny story; and though his voice was so +cheery in common talk, in the pulpit, like almost all preachers, he had a +wholly different and peculiar way of speaking, supposed to be more +acceptable to the Creator than the natural manner. In point of fact, +most of our anti-papal and anti-prelatical clergymen do really intone +their prayers, without suspecting in the least that they have fallen into +such a Romish practice. + +This is the way the conversation between the Doctor of Divinity and the +Doctor of Medicine was going on at the point where these notes take it +up. + +"Obi tres medici, duo athei, you know, Doctor. Your profession has +always had the credit of being lax in doctrine,--though pretty stringent +in practice, ha! ha!" + +"Some priest said that," the Doctor answered, dryly. "They always talked +Latin when they had a bigger lie than common to get rid of." + +"Good!" said the Reverend Doctor; "I'm afraid they would lie a little +sometimes. But isn't there some truth in it, Doctor? Don't you think +your profession is apt to see 'Nature' in the place of the God of +Nature,--to lose sight of the great First Cause in their daily study of +secondary causes?" + +"I've thought about that," the Doctor answered, "and I've talked about it +and read about it, and I've come to the conclusion that nobody believes +in God and trusts in God quite so much as the doctors; only it is n't +just the sort of Deity that some of your profession have wanted them to +take up with. There was a student of mine wrote a dissertation on the +Natural Theology of Health and Disease, and took that old lying proverb +for his motto. He knew a good deal more about books than ever I did, and +had studied in other countries. I'll tell you what he said about it. He +said the old Heathen Doctor, Galen, praised God for his handiwork in the +human body, just as if he had been a Christian, or the Psalmist himself. +He said they had this sentence set up in large letters in the great +lecture-room in Paris where he attended: I dressed his wound and God +healed him. That was an old surgeon's saying. And he gave a long list +of doctors who were not only Christians, but famous ones. I grant you, +though, ministers and doctors are very apt to see differently in +spiritual matters." + +"That's it," said the Reverend Doctor; "you are apt to see 'Nature' where +we see God, and appeal to 'Science' where we are contented with +Revelation." + +"We don't separate God and Nature, perhaps, as you do," the Doctor +answered. "When we say that God is omnipresent and omnipotent and +omniscient, we are a little more apt to mean it than your folks are. We +think, when a wound heals, that God's presence and power and knowledge +are there, healing it, just as that old surgeon did. We think a good +many theologians, working among their books, don't see the facts of the +world they live in. When we tell 'em of these facts, they are apt to +call us materialists and atheists and infidels, and all that. We can't +help seeing the facts, and we don't think it's wicked to mention 'em." + +"Do tell me," the Reverend Doctor said, "some of these facts we are in +the habit of overlooking, and which your profession thinks it can see and +understand." + +"That's very easy," the Doctor replied. "For instance: you don't +understand or don't allow for idiosyncrasies as we learn to. We know +that food and physic act differently with different people; but you think +the same kind of truth is going to suit, or ought to suit, all minds. We +don't fight with a patient because he can't take magnesia or opium; but +you are all the time quarrelling over your beliefs, as if belief did not +depend very much on race and constitution, to say nothing of early +training." + +"Do you mean to say that every man is not absolutely free to choose his +beliefs?" + +"The men you write about in your studies are, but not the men we see in +the real world. There is some apparently congenital defect in the +Indians, for instance, that keeps them from choosing civilization and +Christianity. So with the Gypsies, very likely. Everybody knows that +Catholicism or Protestantism is a good deal a matter of race. +Constitution has more to do with belief than people think for. I went to +a Universalist church, when I was in the city one day, to hear a famous +man whom all the world knows, and I never saw such pews-full of broad +shoulders and florid faces, and substantial, wholesome-looking persons, +male and female, in all my life. Why, it was astonishing. Either their +creed made them healthy, or they chose it because they were healthy. +Your folks have never got the hang of human nature." + +"I am afraid this would be considered a degrading and dangerous view of +human beliefs and responsibility for them," the Reverend Doctor replied. +"Prove to a man that his will is governed by something outside of +himself, and you have lost all hold on his moral and religious nature. +There is nothing bad men want to believe so much as that they are +governed by necessity. Now that which is at once degrading and dangerous +cannot be true." + +"No doubt," the Doctor replied, "all large views of mankind limit our +estimate of the absolute freedom of the will. But I don't think it +degrades or endangers us, for this reason, that, while it makes us +charitable to the rest of mankind, our own sense of freedom, whatever it +is, is never affected by argument. Conscience won't be reasoned with. +We feel that we can practically do this of that, and if we choose the +wrong, we know we are responsible; but observation teaches us that this +or that other race or individual has not the same practical freedom of +choice. I don't see how we can avoid this conclusion in the instance of +the American Indians. The science of Ethnology has upset a good many +theoretical notions about human nature." + +"Science!" said the Reverend Doctor, "science! that was a word the +Apostle Paul did not seem to think much of, if we may judge by the +Epistle to Timothy: 'Oppositions of science falsely so called.' I own +that I am jealous of that word and the pretensions that go with it. +Science has seemed to me to be very often only the handmaid of +skepticism." + +"Doctor!" the physician said, emphatically, "science is knowledge. +Nothing that is not known properly belongs to science. Whenever +knowledge obliges us to doubt, we are always safe in doubting. +Astronomers foretell eclipses, say how long comets are to stay with us, +point out where a new planet is to be found. We see they know what they +assert, and the poor old Roman Catholic Church has at last to knock +under. So Geology proves a certain succession of events, and the best +Christian in the world must make the earth's history square with it. +Besides, I don't think you remember what great revelations of himself the +Creator has made in the minds of the men who have built up science. You +seem to me to hold his human masterpieces very cheap. Don't you think +the 'inspiration of the Almighty' gave Newton and Cuvier +'understanding'?" + +The Reverend Doctor was not arguing for victory. In fact, what he wanted +was to call out the opinions of the old physician by a show of +opposition, being already predisposed to agree with many of them. He was +rather trying the common arguments, as one tries tricks of fence merely +to learn the way of parrying. But just here he saw a tempting opening, +and could not resist giving a home-thrust. + +"Yes; but you surely would not consider it inspiration of the same kind +as that of the writers of the Old Testament?" + +That cornered the Doctor, and he paused a moment before he replied. Then +he raised his head, so as to command the Reverend Doctor's face through +his spectacles, and said, + +"I did not say that. You are clear, I suppose, that the Omniscient spoke +through Solomon, but that Shakespeare wrote without his help?" + +The Reverend Doctor looked very grave. It was a bold, blunt way of +putting the question. He turned it aside with the remark, that +Shakespeare seemed to him at times to come as near inspiration as any +human being not included among the sacred writers. + +"Doctor," the physician began, as from a sudden suggestion, "you won't +quarrel with me, if I tell you some of my real thoughts, will you?" + +"Say on, my dear Sir, say on," the minister answered, with his most +genial smile; "your real thoughts are just what I want to get at. A +man's real thoughts are a great rarity. If I don't agree with you, I +shall like to hear you." + +The Doctor began; and in order to give his thoughts more connectedly, we +will omit the conversational breaks, the questions and comments of the +clergyman, and all accidental interruptions. + +"When the old ecclesiastics said that where there were three doctors +there were two atheists, they lied, of course. They called everybody who +differed from them atheists, until they found out that not believing in +God was n't nearly so ugly a crime as not believing in some particular +dogma; then they called them heretics, until so many good people had been +burned under that name that it began to smell too strong of roasting +flesh,--and after that infidels, which properly means people without +faith, of whom there are not a great many in any place or time. But +then, of course, there was some reason why doctors shouldn't think about +religion exactly as ministers did, or they never would have made that +proverb. It 's very likely that something of the same kind is true now; +whether it is so or not, I am going to tell you the reasons why it would +not be strange, if doctors should take rather different views from +clergymen about some matters of belief. I don't, of course, mean all +doctors nor all clergymen. Some doctors go as far as any old New England +divine, and some clergymen agree very well with the doctors that think +least according to rule. + +"To begin with their ideas of the Creator himself. They always see him +trying to help his creatures out of their troubles. A man no sooner gets +a cut, than the Great Physician, whose agency we often call Nature, goes +to work, first to stop the blood, and then to heal the wound, and then to +make the scar as small as possible. If a man's pain exceeds a certain +amount, he faints, and so gets relief. If it lasts too long, habit comes +in to make it tolerable. If it is altogether too bad, he dies. That is +the best thing to be done under the circumstances. So you see, the +doctor is constantly in presence of a benevolent agency working against a +settled order of things, of which pain and disease are the accidents, so +to speak. Well, no doubt they find it harder than clergymen to believe +that there can be any world or state from which this benevolent agency is +wholly excluded. This may be very wrong; but it is not unnatural. + +"They can hardly conceive of a permanent state of being in which cuts +would never try to heal, nor habit render suffering endurable. This is +one effect of their training. + +"Then, again, their attention is very much called to human limitations. +Ministers work out the machinery of responsibility in an abstract kind of +way; they have a sort of algebra of human nature, in which friction and +strength (or weakness) of material are left out. You see, a doctor is in +the way of studying children from the moment of birth upwards. For the +first year or so he sees that they are just as much pupils of their Maker +as the young of any other animals. Well, their Maker trains them to pure +selfishness. Why? In order that they may be sure to take care of +themselves. So you see, when a child comes to be, we will say a year and +a day old, and makes his first choice between right and wrong, he is at a +disadvantage; for he, has that vis a tergo, as we doctors call it, that +force from behind, of a whole year's life of selfishness, for which he is +no more to blame than a calf is to blame for having lived in the same +way, purely to gratify his natural appetites. Then we see that baby grow +up to a child, and, if he is fat and stout and red and lively, we expect +to find him troublesome and noisy, and, perhaps, sometimes disobedient +more or less; that's the way each new generation breaks its egg-shell; +but if he is very weak and thin, and is one of the kind that may be +expected to die early, he will very likely sit in the house all day and +read good books about other little sharp-faced children just like +himself, who died early, having always been perfectly indifferent to all +the out-door amusements of the wicked little red-cheeked children. + +"Some of the little folks we watch grow up to be young women, and +occasionally one of them gets nervous, what we call hysterical, and then +that girl will begin to play all sorts of pranks,--to lie and cheat, +perhaps, in the most unaccountable way, so that she might seem to a +minister a good example of total depravity. We don't see her in that +light. We give her iron and valerian, and get her on horseback, if we +can, and so expect to make her will come all right again. By and by we +are called in to see an old baby, threescore years and ten or more old. +We find this old baby has never got rid of that first year's teaching +which led him to fill his stomach with all he could pump into it, and +his hands with everything he could grab. People call him a miser. We +are sorry for him; but we can't help remembering his first year's +training, and the natural effect of money on the great majority of those +that have it. So while the ministers say he 'shall hardly enter into the +kingdom of heaven,' we like to remind them that 'with God all things are +possible.' + +"Once more, we see all kinds of monomania and insanity. We learn from +them to recognize all sorts of queer tendencies in minds supposed to be +sane, so that we have nothing but compassion for a large class of persons +condemned as sinners by theologians, but considered by us as invalids. +We have constant reasons for noticing the transmission of qualities from +parents to offspring, and we find it hard to hold a child accountable in +any moral point of view for inherited bad temper or tendency to +drunkenness,--as hard as we should to blame him for inheriting gout or +asthma. I suppose we are more lenient with human nature than theologians +generally are. We know that the spirits of men and their views of the +present and the future go up and down with the barometer, and that a +permanent depression of one inch in the mercurial column would affect the +whole theology of Christendom. + +"Ministers talk about the human will as if it stood on a high look-out, +with plenty of light, and elbowroom reaching to the horizon. Doctors are +constantly noticing how it is tied up and darkened by inferior +organization, by disease, and all sorts of crowding interferences, until +they get to look upon Hottentots and Indians--and a good many of their +own race as a kind of self-conscious blood-clocks with very limited power +of self-determination. That's the tendency, I say, of a doctor's +experience. But the people to whom they address their statements of the +results of their observation belong to the thinking class of the highest +races, and they are conscious of a great deal of liberty of will. So in +the face of the fact that civilization with all it offers has proved a +dead failure with the aboriginal races of this country,--on the whole, I +say, a dead failure,--they talk as if they knew from their own will all +about that of a Digger Indian! We are more apt to go by observation of +the facts in the case. We are constantly seeing weakness where you see +depravity. I don't say we're right; I only tell what you must often find +to be the fact, right or wrong, in talking with doctors. You see, too, +our notions of bodily and moral disease, or sin, are apt to go together. +We used to be as hard on sickness as you were on sin. We know better +now. We don't look at sickness as we used to, and try to poison it with +everything that is offensive, burnt toads and earth-worms and +viper-broth, and worse things than these. We know that disease has +something back of it which the body isn't to blame for, at least in most +cases, and which very often it is trying to get rid of. Just so with +sin. I will agree to take a hundred new-born babes of a certain stock +and return seventy-five of them in a dozen years true and honest, if not +'pious' children. And I will take another hundred, of a different stock, +and put them in the hands of certain Ann-Street or Five-Points teachers, +and seventy-five of them will be thieves and liars at the end of the same +dozen years. I have heard of an old character, Colonel Jaques, I believe +it was, a famous cattle-breeder, who used to say he could breed to pretty +much any pattern he wanted to. Well, we doctors see so much of families, +how the tricks of the blood keep breaking out, just as much in character +as they do in looks, that we can't help feeling as if a great many people +hadn't a fair chance to be what is called 'good,' and that there isn't a +text in the Bible better worth keeping always in mind than that one, +'Judge not, that ye be not judged.' + +"As for our getting any quarter at the hands of theologians, we don't +expect it, and have no right to. You don't give each other any quarter. +I have had two religious books sent me by friends within a week or two. +One is Mr. Brownson's; he is as fair and square as Euclid; a real honest, +strong thinker, and one that knows what he is talking about,--for he has +tried all sorts of religions, pretty much. He tells us that the Roman +Catholic Church is the one 'through which alone we can hope for heaven.' +The other is by a worthy Episcopal rector, who appears to write as if he +were in earnest, and he calls the Papacy the 'Devil's Masterpiece,' and +talks about the 'Satanic scheme' of that very Church 'through which +alone,' as Mr. Brownson tells us, 'we can hope for heaven' + +"What's the use in our caring about hard words after this,--'atheists,' +heretics, infidels, and the like? They're, after all, only the cinders +picked up out of those heaps of ashes round the stumps of the old stakes +where they used to burn men, women, and children for not thinking just +like other folks. They 'll 'crock' your fingers, but they can't burn us. + +"Doctors are the best-natured people in the world, except when they get +fighting with each other. And they have some advantages over you. You +inherit your notions from a set of priests that had no wives and no +children, or none to speak of, and so let their humanity die out of them. +It did n't seem much to them to condemn a few thousand millions of people +to purgatory or worse for a mistake of judgment. They didn't know what +it was to have a child look up in their faces and say 'Father!' It will +take you a hundred or two more years to get decently humanized, after so +many centuries of de-humanizing celibacy. + +"Besides, though our libraries are, perhaps, not commonly quite so big as +yours, God opens one book to physicians that a good many of you don't +know much about,--the Book of Life. That is none of your dusty folios +with black letters between pasteboard and leather, but it is printed in +bright red type, and the binding of it is warm and tender to every touch. +They reverence that book as one of the Almighty's infallible revelations. +They will insist on reading you lessons out of it, whether you call them +names or not. These will always be lessons of charity. No doubt, +nothing can be more provoking to listen to. But do beg your folks to +remember that the Smithfield fires are all out, and that the cinders are +very dirty and not in the least dangerous. They'd a great deal better be +civil, and not be throwing old proverbs in the doctors' faces, when they +say that the man of the old monkish notions is one thing and the man they +watch from his cradle to his coffin is something very different." + +It has cost a good deal of trouble to work the Doctor's talk up into this +formal shape. Some of his sentences have been rounded off for him, and +the whole brought into a more rhetorical form than it could have +pretended to, if taken as it fell from his lips. But the exact course of +his remarks has been followed, and as far as possible his expressions +have been retained. Though given in the form of a discourse, it must be +remembered that this was a conversation, much more fragmentary and +colloquial than it seems as just read. + +The Reverend Doctor was very far from taking offence at the old +physician's freedom of speech. He knew him to be honest, kind, +charitable, self-denying, wherever any sorrow was to be alleviated, +always reverential, with a cheerful trust in the great Father of all +mankind. To be sure, his senior deacon, old Deacon Shearer,--who seemed +to have got his Scripture-teachings out of the "Vinegar Bible," (the one +where Vineyard is misprinted Vinegar; which a good many people seem to +have adopted as the true reading,)--his senior deacon had called Dr. +Kittredge an "infidel." But the Reverend Doctor could not help feeling, +that, unless the text, "By their fruits ye shall know them," were an +interpolation, the Doctor was the better Christian of the two. Whatever +his senior deacon might think about it, he said to himself that he +shouldn't be surprised if he met the Doctor in heaven yet, inquiring +anxiously after old Deacon Shearer. + +He was on the point of expressing himself very frankly to the Doctor, +with that benevolent smile on his face which had sometimes come near +giving offence to the readers of the "Vinegar" edition, but he saw that +the physician's attention had been arrested by Elsie. He looked in the +same direction himself, and could not help being struck by her attitude +and expression. There was something singularly graceful in the curves of +her neck and the rest of her figure, but she was so perfectly still that +it seemed as if she were hardly breathing. Her eyes were fixed on the +young girl with whom Mr. Bernard was talking. He had often noticed their +brilliancy, but now it seemed to him that they appeared dull, and the +look on her features was as of some passion which had missed its stroke. +Mr. Bernard's companion seemed unconscious that she was the object of +this attention, and was listening to the young master as if he had +succeeded in making himself very agreeable. + +Of course Dick Veneer had not mistaken the game that was going on. The +schoolmaster meant to make Elsie jealous,--and he had done it. That 's +it: get her savage first, and then come wheedling round her,--a sure +trick, if he isn't headed off somehow. But Dick saw well enough that he +had better let Elsie alone just now, and thought the best way of killing +the evening would be to amuse himself in a little lively talk with Mrs. +Blanche Creamer, and incidentally to show Elsie that he could make +himself acceptable to other women, if not to herself. + +The Doctor presently went up to Elsie, determined to engage her in +conversation and get her out of her thoughts, which he saw, by her look, +were dangerous. Her father had been on the point of leaving Helen Darley +to go to her, but felt easy enough when he saw the old Doctor at her +side, and so went on talking. The Reverend Doctor, being now left alone, +engaged the Widow Rowens, who put the best face on her vexation she +could, but was devoting herself to all the underground deities for having +been such a fool as to ask that pale-faced thing from the Institute to +fill up her party. + +There is no space left to report the rest of the conversation. If there +was anything of any significance in it, it will turn up by and by, no +doubt. At ten o'clock the Reverend Doctor called Miss Letty, who had no +idea it was so late; Mr. Bernard gave his arm to Helen; Mr. Richard saw +to Mrs. Blanche Creamer; the Doctor gave Elsie a cautioning look, and +went off alone, thoughtful; Dudley Venner and his daughter got into their +carriage and were whirled away. The Widow's gambit was played, and she +had not won the game. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE WILD HUNTSMAN. + +The young master had not forgotten the old Doctor's cautions. Without +attributing any great importance to the warning he had given him, Mr. +Bernard had so far complied with his advice that he was becoming a pretty +good shot with the pistol. It was an amusement as good as many others to +practise, and he had taken a fancy to it after the first few days. + +The popping of a pistol at odd hours in the backyard of the Institute was +a phenomenon more than sufficiently remarkable to be talked about in +Rockland. The viscous intelligence of a country-village is not easily +stirred by the winds which ripple the fluent thought of great cities, but +it holds every straw and entangles every insect that lights upon it. It +soon became rumored in the town that the young master was a wonderful +shot with the pistol. Some said he could hit a fo'pence-ha'penny at +three rod; some, that he had shot a swallow, flying, with a single ball; +some, that he snuffed a candle five times out of six at ten paces, and +that he could hit any button in a man's coat he wanted to. In other +words, as in all such cases, all the common feats were ascribed to him, +as the current jokes of the day are laid at the door of any noted wit, +however innocent he may be of them. + +In the natural course of things, Mr. Richard Venner, who had by this time +made some acquaintances, as we have seen, among that class of the +population least likely to allow a live cinder of gossip to go out for +want of air, had heard incidentally that the master up there at the +Institute was all the time practising with a pistol, that they say he can +snuff a candle at ten rods, (that was Mrs. Blanche Creamer's version,) +and that he could hit anybody he wanted to right in the eye, as far as he +could see the white of it. + +Dick did not like the sound of all this any too well. Without believing +more than half of it, there was enough to make the Yankee schoolmaster +too unsafe to be trifled with. However, shooting at a mark was pleasant +work enough; he had no particular objection to it himself. Only he did +not care so much for those little popgun affairs that a man carries in +his pocket, and with which you could n't shoot a fellow,--a robber, +say,--without getting the muzzle under his nose. Pistols for boys; +long-range rifles for men. There was such a gun lying in a closet with +the fowling-pieces. He would go out into the fields and see what he +could do as a marksman. + +The nature of the mark which Dick chose for experimenting upon was +singular. He had found some panes of glass which had been removed from +an old sash, and he placed these successively before his target, +arranging them at different angles. He found that a bullet would go +through the glass without glancing or having its force materially abated. +It was an interesting fact in physics, and might prove of some practical +significance hereafter. Nobody knows what may turn up to render these +out-of-the-way facts useful. All this was done in a quiet way in one of +the bare spots high up the side of The Mountain. He was very thoughtful +in taking the precaution to get so far away; rifle-bullets are apt to +glance and come whizzing about people's ears, if they are fired in the +neighborhood of houses. Dick satisfied himself that he could be +tolerably sure of hitting a pane of glass at a distance of thirty rods, +more or less, and that, if there happened to be anything behind it, the +glass would not materially alter the force or direction of the bullet. + +About this time it occurred to him also that there was an old +accomplishment of his which he would be in danger of losing for want of +practice, if he did not take some opportunity to try his hand and regain +its cunning, if it had begun to be diminished by disuse. For his first +trial, he chose an evening when the moon was shining, and after the hour +when the Rockland people were like to be stirring abroad. He was so far +established now that he could do much as he pleased without exciting +remark. + +The prairie horse he rode, the mustang of the Pampas, wild as he was, had +been trained to take part in at least one exercise. This was the +accomplishment in which Mr. Richard now proposed to try himself. For +this purpose he sought the implement of which, as it may be remembered, +he had once made an incidental use,--the lasso, or long strip of hide +with a slip-noose at the end of it. He had been accustomed to playing +with such a thong from his boyhood, and had become expert in its use in +capturing wild cattle in the course of his adventures. Unfortunately, +there were no wild bulls likely to be met with in the neighborhood, to +become the subjects of his skill. A stray cow in the road, an ox or a +horse in a pasture, must serve his turn,--dull beasts, but moving marks +to aim at, at any rate. + +Never, since he had galloped in the chase over the Pampas, had Dick +Venner felt such a sense of life and power as when he struck the long +spurs into his wild horse's flanks, and dashed along the road with the +lasso lying like a coiled snake at the saddle-bow. In skilful hands, the +silent, bloodless noose, flying like an arrow, but not like that leaving +a wound behind it,--sudden as a pistol-shot, but without the telltale +explosion,--is one of the most fearful and mysterious weapons that arm +the hand of man. The old Romans knew how formidable, even in contest +with a gladiator equipped with sword, helmet, and shield, was the almost +naked retiarius, with his net in one hand and his three-pronged javelin +in the other. Once get a net over a man's head, or a cord round his +neck, or, what is more frequently done nowadays, bonnet him by knocking +his hat down over his eyes, and he is at the mercy of his opponent. Our +soldiers who served against the Mexicans found this out too well. Many a +poor fellow has been lassoed by the fierce riders from the plains, and +fallen an easy victim to the captor who had snared him in the fatal +noose. + +But, imposing as the sight of the wild huntsmen of the Pampas might have +been, Dick could not help laughing at the mock sublimity of his +situation, as he tried his first experiment on an unhappy milky mother +who had strayed from her herd and was wandering disconsolately along the +road, laying the dust, as slue went, with thready streams from her +swollen, swinging udders. "Here goes the Don at the windmill!" said +Dick, and tilted full speed at her, whirling the lasso round his head as +he rode. The creature swerved to one side of the way, as the wild horse +and his rider came rushing down upon her, and presently turned and ran, +as only cows and it would n't be safe to say it--can run. Just before he +passed,--at twenty or thirty feet from her,--the lasso shot from his +hand, uncoiling as it flew, and in an instant its loop was round her +horns. "Well cast!" said Dick, as he galloped up to her side and +dexterously disengaged the lasso. "Now for a horse on the run!" + +He had the good luck to find one, presently, grazing in a pasture at the +road-side. Taking down the rails of the fence at one point, he drove the +horse into the road and gave chase. It was a lively young animal enough, +and was easily roused to a pretty fast pace. As his gallop grew more and +more rapid, Dick gave the reins to the mustang, until the two horses +stretched themselves out in their longest strides. If the first feat +looked like play, the one he was now to attempt had a good deal the +appearance of real work. He touched the mustang with the spur, and in a +few fierce leaps found himself nearly abreast of the frightened animal he +was chasing. Once more he whirled the lasso round and round over his +head, and then shot it forth, as the rattlesnake shoots his head from the +loops against which it rests. The noose was round the horse's neck, and +in another instant was tightened so as almost to stop his breath. The +prairie horse knew the trick of the cord, and leaned away from the +captive, so as to keep the thong tensely stretched between his neck and +the peak of the saddle to which it was fastened. Struggling was of no +use with a halter round his windpipe, and he very soon began to tremble +and stagger,--blind, no doubt, and with a roaring in his ears as of a +thousand battle-trumpets,--at any rate, subdued and helpless. That was +enough. Dick loosened his lasso, wound it up again, laid it like a pet +snake in a coil at his saddle-bow, turned his horse, and rode slowly +along towards the mansion-house. + +The place had never looked more stately and beautiful to him than as he +now saw it in the moonlight. The undulations of the land,--the grand +mountain screen which sheltered the mansion from the northern blasts, +rising with all its hanging forests and parapets of naked rock high +towards the heavens,--the ancient mansion, with its square chimneys, and +bodyguard of old trees, and cincture of low walls with marble-pillared +gateways,--the fields, with their various coverings,--the beds of +flowers,--the plots of turf, one with a gray column in its centre bearing +a sundial on which the rays of the moon were idly shining, another with a +white stone and a narrow ridge of turf,--over all these objects, +harmonized with all their infinite details into one fair whole by the +moonlight, the prospective heir, as he deemed himself, looked with +admiring eyes. + +But while he looked, the thought rose up in his mind like waters from a +poisoned fountain, that there was a deep plot laid to cheat him of the +inheritance which by a double claim he meant to call his own. Every day +this ice-cold beauty, this dangerous, handsome cousin of his, went up to +that place,--that usher's girl-trap. Everyday,--regularly now,--it used +to be different. Did she go only to get out of his, her cousin's, reach? +Was she not rather becoming more and more involved in the toils of this +plotting Yankee? + +If Mr. Bernard had shown himself at that moment a few rods in advance, +the chances are that in less than one minute he would have found himself +with a noose round his neck, at the heels of a mounted horseman. +Providence spared him for the present. Mr. Richard rode his horse +quietly round to the stable, put him up, and proceeded towards the house. +He got to his bed without disturbing the family, but could not sleep. +The idea had fully taken possession of his mind that a deep intrigue was +going on which would end by bringing Elsie and the schoolmaster into +relations fatal to all his own hopes. With that ingenuity which always +accompanies jealousy, he tortured every circumstance of the last few +weeks so as to make it square with this belief. From this vein of +thought he naturally passed to a consideration of every possible method +by which the issue he feared might be avoided. + +Mr. Richard talked very plain language with himself in all these inward +colloquies. Supposing it came to the worst, what could be done then? +First, an accident might happen to the schoolmaster which should put a +complete and final check upon his projects and contrivances. The +particular accident which might interrupt his career must, evidently, be +determined by circumstances; but it must be of a nature to explain itself +without the necessity of any particular person's becoming involved in the +matter. It would be unpleasant to go into particulars; but everybody +knows well enough that men sometimes get in the way of a stray bullet, +and that young persons occasionally do violence to themselves in various +modes,--by firearms, suspension, and other means,--in consequence of +disappointment in love, perhaps, oftener than from other motives. There +was still another kind of accident which might serve his purpose. If +anything should happen to Elsie, it would be the most natural thing in +the world that his uncle should adopt him, his nephew and only near +relation, as his heir. Unless, indeed, uncle Dudley should take it into +his head to marry again. In that case, where would he, Dick, be? This +was the most detestable complication which he could conceive of. And yet +he had noticed--he could not help noticing--that his uncle had been very +attentive to, and, as it seemed, very much pleased with, that young woman +from the school. What did that mean? Was it possible that he was going +to take a fancy to her? + +It made him wild to think of all the several contingencies which might +defraud him of that good-fortune which seemed but just now within his +grasp. He glared in the darkness at imaginary faces: sometimes at that +of the handsome, treacherous schoolmaster; sometimes at that of the +meek-looking, but no doubt, scheming, lady-teacher; sometimes at that of +the dark girl whom he was ready to make his wife; sometimes at that of +his much respected uncle, who, of course, could not be allowed to peril +the fortunes of his relatives by forming a new connection. It was a +frightful perplexity in which he found himself, because there was no one +single life an accident to which would be sufficient to insure the +fitting and natural course of descent to the great Dudley property. If +it had been a simple question of helping forward a casualty to any one +person, there was nothing in Dick's habits of thought and living to make +that a serious difficulty. He had been so much with lawless people, that +a life between his wish and his object seemed only as an obstacle to be +removed, provided the object were worth the risk and trouble. But if +there were two or three lives in the way, manifestly that altered the +case. + +His Southern blood was getting impatient. There was enough of the +New-Englander about him to make him calculate his chances before he +struck; but his plans were liable to be defeated at any moment by a +passionate impulse such as the dark-hued races of Southern Europe and +their descendants are liable to. He lay in his bed, sometimes arranging +plans to meet the various difficulties already mentioned, sometimes +getting into a paroxysm of blind rage in the perplexity of considering +what object he should select as the one most clearly in his way. On the +whole, there could be no doubt where the most threatening of all his +embarrassments lay. It was in the probable growing relation between +Elsie and the schoolmaster. If it should prove, as it seemed likely, +that there was springing up a serious attachment tending to a union +between them, he knew what he should do, if he was not quite so sure how +he should do it. + +There was one thing at least which might favor his projects, and which, +at any rate, would serve to amuse him. He could, by a little quiet +observation, find out what were the schoolmaster's habits of life: +whether he had any routine which could be calculated upon; and under what +circumstances a strictly private interview of a few minutes with him +might be reckoned on, in case it should be desirable. He could also very +probably learn some facts about Elsie. whether the young man was in the +habit of attending her on her way home from school; whether she stayed +about the schoolroom after the other girls had gone; and any incidental +matters of interest which might present themselves. + +He was getting more and more restless for want of some excitement. A mad +gallop, a visit to Mrs. Blanche Creamer, who had taken such a fancy to +him, or a chat with the Widow Rowens, who was very lively in her talk, +for all her sombre colors, and reminded him a good deal of same of his +earlier friends, the senoritas,--all these were distractions, to be sure, +but not enough to keep his fiery spirit from fretting itself in longings +for more dangerous excitements. The thought of getting a knowledge of +all Mr. Bernard's ways, so that he would be in his power at any moment, +was a happy one. + +For some days after this he followed Elsie at a long distance behind, to +watch her until she got to the schoolhouse. One day he saw Mr. Bernard +join her: a mere accident, very probably, for it was only once this +happened. She came on her homeward way alone,--quite apart from the +groups of girls who strolled out of the schoolhouse yard in company. +Sometimes she was behind them all,--which was suggestive. Could she have +stayed to meet the schoolmaster? + +If he could have smuggled himself into the school, he would have liked to +watch her there, and see if there was not some understanding between her +and the master which betrayed itself by look or word. But this was beyond +the limits of his audacity, and he had to content himself with such +cautious observations as could be made at a distance. With the aid of a +pocket-glass he could make out persons without the risk of being observed +himself. + +Mr. Silos Peckham's corps of instructors was not expected to be off duty +or to stand at ease for any considerable length of time. Sometimes Mr. +Bernard, who had more freedom than the rest, would go out for a ramble in +the daytime, but more frequently it would be in the evening, after the +hour of "retiring," as bedtime was elegantly termed by the young ladies +of the Apollinean Institute. He would then not unfrequently walk out +alone in the common roads, or climb up the sides of The Mountain, which +seemed to be one of his favorite resorts. Here, of course, it was +impossible to follow him with the eye at a distance. Dick had a hideous, +gnawing suspicion that somewhere in these deep shades the schoolmaster +might meet Elsie, whose evening wanderings he knew so well. But of this +he was not able to assure himself. Secrecy was necessary to his present +plans, and he could not compromise himself by over-eager curiosity. One +thing he learned with certainty. The master returned, after his walk one +evening, and entered the building where his room was situated. Presently +a light betrayed the window of his apartment. From a wooded bank, some +thirty or forty rods from this building, Dick Venner could see the +interior of the chamber, and watch the master as he sat at his desk, the +light falling strongly upon his face, intent upon the book or manuscript +before him. Dick contemplated him very long in this attitude. The sense +of watching his every motion, himself meanwhile utterly unseen, was +delicious. How little the master was thinking what eyes were on him! + +Well,--there were two things quite certain. One was, that, if he chose, +he could meet the schoolmaster alone, either in the road or in a more +solitary place, if he preferred to watch his chance for an evening or +two. The other was, that he commanded his position, as he sat at his +desk in the evening, in such a way that there would be very little +difficulty,--so far as that went; of course, however, silence is always +preferable to noise, and there is a great difference in the marks left by +different casualties. Very likely nothing would come of all this +espionage; but, at any rate, the first thing to be done with a man you +want to have in your power is to learn his habits. + +Since the tea-party at the Widow Rowens's, Elsie had been more fitful and +moody than ever. Dick understood all this well enough, you know. It was +the working of her jealousy against that young schoolgirl to whom the +master had devoted himself for the sake of piquing the heiress of the +Dudley mansion. Was it possible, in any way, to exasperate her irritable +nature against him, and in this way to render her more accessible to his +own advances? It was difficult to influence her at all. She endured his +company without seeming to enjoy it. She watched him with that strange +look of hers, sometimes as if she were on her guard against him, +sometimes as if she would like to strike at him as in that fit of +childish passion. She ordered him about with a haughty indifference +which reminded him of his own way with the dark-eyed women whom he had +known so well of old. All this added a secret pleasure to the other +motives he had for worrying her with jealous suspicions. He knew she +brooded silently on any grief that poisoned her comfort,--that she fed on +it, as it were, until it ran with every drop of blood in her veins,--and +that, except in some paroxysm of rage, of which he himself was not likely +the second time to be the object, or in some deadly vengeance wrought +secretly, against which he would keep a sharp lookout, so far as he was +concerned, she had no outlet for her dangerous, smouldering passions. + +Beware of the woman who cannot find free utterance for all her stormy +inner life either in words or song! So long as a woman can talk, there +is nothing she cannot bear. If she cannot have a companion to listen to +her woes, and has no musical utterance, vocal or instrumental,--then, if +she is of the real woman sort, and has a few heartfuls of wild blood in +her, and you have done her a wrong,--double-bolt the door which she may +enter on noiseless slipper at midnight,--look twice before you taste of +any cup whose draught the shadow of her hand may have darkened! + +But let her talk, and, above all, cry, or, if she is one of the +coarser-grained tribe, give her the run of all the red-hot expletives in +the language, and let her blister her lips with them until she is tired, +she will sleep like a lamb after it, and you may take a cup of coffee +from her without stirring it up to look for its sediment. + +So, if she can sing, or play on any musical instrument, all her +wickedness will run off through her throat or the tips of her fingers. +How many tragedies find their peaceful catastrophe in fierce roulades and +strenuous bravuras! How many murders are executed in double-quick time +upon the keys which stab the air with their dagger-strokes of sound! +What would our civilization be without the piano? Are not Erard and +Broadwood and Chickering the true humanizers of our time? Therefore do I +love to hear the all-pervading tum tum jarring the walls of little +parlors in houses with double door-plates on their portals, looking out +on streets and courts which to know is to be unknown, and where to exist +is not to live, according to any true definition of living. Therefore +complain I not of modern degeneracy, when, even from the open window of +the small unlovely farmhouse, tenanted by the hard-handed man of bovine +flavors and the flat-patterned woman of broken-down countenance, issue +the same familiar sounds. For who knows that Almira, but for these keys, +which throb away her wild impulses in harmless discords would not have +been floating, dead, in the brown stream which slides through the meadows +by her father's door,--or living, with that other current which runs +beneath the gas-lights over the slimy pavement, choking with wretched +weeds that were once in spotless flower? + +Poor Elsie! She never sang nor played. She never shaped her inner life +in words: such utterance was as much denied to her nature as common +articulate speech to the deaf mute. Her only language must be in action. +Watch her well by day and by night, old Sophy! watch her well! or the +long line of her honored name may close in shame, and the stately mansion +of the Dudleys remain a hissing and a reproach till its roof is buried in +its cellar! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +ON HIS TRACKS. + +"Able!" said the old Doctor, one morning, "after you've harnessed +Caustic, come into the study a few minutes, will you?" + +Abel nodded. He was a man of few words, and he knew that the "will you" +did not require an answer, being the true New-England way of rounding the +corners of an employer's order,--a tribute to the personal independence +of an American citizen. + +The hired man came into the study in the course of a few minutes. His +face was perfectly still, and he waited to be spoken to; but the Doctor's +eye detected a certain meaning in his expression, which looked as if he +had something to communicate. + +"Well?" said the Doctor. + +"He's up to mischief o' some kind, I guess," said Abel. "I jest happened +daown by the mansion-haouse last night, 'n' he come aout o' the gate on +that queer-lookin' creator' o' his. I watched him, 'n' he rid, very +slow, all raoun' by the Institoot, 'n' acted as ef he was spyin' abaout. +He looks to me like a man that's calc'latin' to do some kind of ill-turn +to somebody. I should n't like to have him raoun' me, 'f there wa'n't a +pitchfork or an eel-spear or some sech weep'n within reach. He may be +all right; but I don't like his looks, 'n' I don't see what he's lurkin' +raoun' the Institoot for, after folks is abed." + +"Have you watched him pretty close for the last few days?" said the +Doctor. + +"W'll, yes,--I've had my eye on him consid'ble o' the time. I haf to be +pooty shy abaout it, or he'll find aout th't I'm on his tracks. I don' +want him to get a spite ag'inst me, 'f I c'n help it; he looks to me like +one o' them kind that kerries what they call slung-shot, 'n' hits ye on +the side o' th' head with 'em so suddin y' never know what hurts ye." + +"Why," said the Doctor, sharply,--"have you ever seen him with any such +weapon about him?" + +"W'll, no,--I caan't say that I hev," Abel answered. "On'y he looks kin' +o' dangerous. Maybe he's all jest 'z he ought to be,--I caan't say that +he a'n't,--but he's aout late nights, 'n' lurkin' raonn' jest 'z ef he +was spyin' somebody, 'n' somehaow I caan't help mistrustin' them +Portagee-lookin' fellahs. I caan't keep the run o' this chap all the +time; but I've a notion that old black woman daown 't the mansion-haouse +knows 'z much abaout him 'z anybody." + +The Doctor paused a moment, after hearing this report from his private +detective, and then got into his chaise, and turned Caustic's head in the +direction of the Dudley mansion. He had been suspicious of Dick from the +first. He did not like his mixed blood, nor his looks, nor his ways. He +had formed a conjecture about his projects early. He had made a shrewd +guess as to the probable jealousy Dick would feel of the schoolmaster, +had found out something of his movements, and had cautioned Mr. +Bernard,--as we have seen. He felt an interest in the young man,--a +student of his own profession, an intelligent and ingenuously +unsuspecting young fellow, who had been thrown by accident into the +companionship or the neighborhood of two persons, one of whom he knew to +be dangerous, and the other he believed instinctively might be capable of +crime. + +The Doctor rode down to the Dudley mansion solely for the sake of seeing +old Sophy. He was lucky enough to find her alone in her kitchen. He +began taking with her as a physician; he wanted to know how her +rheumatism had been. The shrewd old woman saw through all that with her +little beady black eyes. It was something quite different he had come +for, and old Sophy answered very briefly for her aches and ails. + +"Old folks' bones a'n't like young folks'," she said. "It's the Lord's +doin's, 'n' 't a'n't much matter. I sha'n' be long roan' this kitchen. +It's the young Missis, Doctor,--it 's our Elsie,--it 's the baby, as we +use' t' call her,--don' you remember, Doctor? Seventeen year ago, 'n' +her poor mother cryin' for her,--'Where is she? where is she? Let me see +her! '--'n' how I run up-stairs,--I could run then,--'n' got the coral +necklace 'n' put it round her little neck, 'n' then showed her to her +mother,--'n' how her mother looked at her, 'n' looked, 'n' then put out +her poor thin fingers 'n' lifted the necklace,--'n' fell right back on +her piller, as white as though she was laid out to bury?" + +The Doctor answered her by silence and a look of grave assent. He had +never chosen to let old Sophy dwell upon these matters, for obvious +reasons. The girl must not grow up haunted by perpetual fears and +prophecies, if it were possible to prevent it. + +"Well, how has Elsie seemed of late?" he said, after this brief pause. + +The old woman shook her head. Then she looked up at the Doctor so +steadily and searchingly that the diamond eyes of Elsie herself could +hardly have pierced more deeply. + +The Doctor raised his head, by his habitual movement, and met the old +woman's look with his own calm and scrutinizing gaze, sharpened by the +glasses through which he now saw her. + +Sophy spoke presently in an awed tone, as if telling a vision. + +"We shall be havin' trouble before long. The' 's somethin' comin' from +the Lord. I've had dreams, Doctor. It's many a year I've been +a-dreamin', but now they're comin' over 'n' over the same thing. Three +times I've dreamed one thing, Doctor,--one thing!" + +"And what was that?" the Doctor said, with that shade of curiosity in his +tone which a metaphysician would probably say is an index of a certain +tendency to belief in the superstition to which the question refers. + +"I ca'n' jestly tell y' what it was, Doctor," the old woman answered, as +if bewildered and trying to clear up her recollections; "but it was +somethin' fearful, with a great noise 'n' a great cryin' o' people,--like +the Las' Day, Doctor! The Lord have mercy on my poor chil', 'n' take +care of her, if anything happens! But I's feared she'll never live to +see the Las' Day, 'f 't don' come pooty quick." + +Poor Sophy, only the third generation from cannibalism, was, not +unnaturally, somewhat confused in her theological notions. Some of the +Second-Advent preachers had been about, and circulated their predictions +among the kitchen--population of Rockland. This was the way in which it +happened that she mingled her fears in such a strange manner with their +doctrines. + +The Doctor answered solemnly, that of the day and hour we knew not, but +it became us to be always ready.--"Is there anything going on in the +household different from common?" + +Old Sophy's wrinkled face looked as full of life and intelligence, when +she turned it full upon the Doctor, as if she had slipped off her +infirmities and years like an outer garment. All those fine instincts of +observation which came straight to her from her savage grandfather looked +out of her little eyes. She had a kind of faith that the Doctor was a +mighty conjurer, who, if he would, could bewitch any of them. She had +relieved her feelings by her long talk with the minister, but the Doctor +was the immediate adviser of the family, and had watched them through all +their troubles. Perhaps he could tell them what to do. She had but one +real object of affection in the world,--this child that she had tended +from infancy to womanhood. Troubles were gathering thick round her; how +soon they would break upon her, and blight or destroy her, no one could +tell; but there was nothing in all the catalogue of terrors which might +not come upon the household at any moment. Her own wits had sharpened +themselves in keeping watch by day and night, and her face had forgotten +its age in the excitement which gave life to its features. + +"Doctor," old Sophy said, "there's strange things goin' on here by night +and by day. I don' like that man,--that Dick,--I never liked him. He +giv' me some o' these things I' got on; I take 'em 'cos I know it make +him mad, if I no take 'em; I wear 'em, so that he need n' feel as if I +did n' like him; but, Doctor, I hate him,--jes' as much as a member of +the church has the Lord's leave to hate anybody." + +Her eyes sparkled with the old savage light, as if her ill-will to Mr. +Richard Veneer might perhaps go a little farther than the Christian limit +she had assigned. But remember that her grandfather was in the habit of +inviting his friends to dine with him upon the last enemy he had bagged, +and that her grandmother's teeth were filed down to points, so that they +were as sharp as a shark's. + +"What is that you have seen about Mr. Richard Veneer that gives you such +a spite against him, Sophy?" asked the Doctor. + +"What I' seen 'bout Dick Veneer?" she replied, fiercely. "I'll tell y' +what I' seen. Dick wan's to marry our Elsie,--that 's what he wan's; 'n' +he don' love her, Doctor,--he hates her, Doctor, as bad as I hate him! +He wan's to marry our Elsie, In' live here in the big house, 'n' have +nothin' to do but jes' lay still 'n' watch Massa Venner 'n' see how +long 't Ill take him to die, 'n' 'f he don' die fas' 'puff, help him some +way t' die fasser!--Come close up t' me, Doctor! I wan' t' tell you +somethin' I tol' th' minister t' other day. Th' minister, he come down +'n' prayed 'n' talked good,--he's a good man, that Doctor Honeywood, 'n' +I tol' him all 'bout our Elsie, but he did n' tell nobody what to do to +stop all what I' been dreamin' about happenin'. Come close up to me, +Doctor!" + +The Doctor drew his chair close up to that of the old woman. + +"Doctor, nobody mus'n' never marry our Elsie 's longs she lives! Nobody +mus' n' never live with Elsie but ol Sophy; 'n' ol Sophy won't never die +'s long 's Elsie 's alive to be took care of. But I's feared, Doctor, +I's greatly feared Elsie wan' to marry somebody. The' 's a young +gen'l'm'n up at that school where she go,--so some of 'em tells me, 'n' +she loves t' see him 'n' talk wi' him, 'n' she talks about him when she +'s asleep sometimes. She mus 'n' never marry nobody, Doctor! If she do, +he die, certain!" + +"If she has a fancy for the young man up at the school there," the Doctor +said, "I shouldn't think there would be much danger from Dick." + +"Doctor, nobody know nothin' 'bout Elsie but of Sophy. She no like any +other creator' th't ever drawed the bref o' life. If she ca'n' marry one +man 'cos she love him, she marry another man 'cos she hate him." + +"Marry a man because she hates him, Sophy? No woman ever did such a +thing as that, or ever will do it." + +"Who tol' you Elsie was a woman, Doctor?" said old Sophy, with a flash +of strange intelligence in her eyes. + +The Doctor's face showed that he was startled. The old woman could not +know much about Elsie that he did not know; but what strange superstition +had got into her head, he was puzzled to guess. He had better follow +Sophy's lead and find out what she meant. + +"I should call Elsie a woman, and a very handsome one," he said. "You +don't mean that she has any mark about her, except--you know--under the +necklace?" + +The old woman resented the thought of any deformity about her darling. + +"I did n' say she had nothin'--but jes' that--you know. My beauty have +anything ugly? She's the beautifullest-shaped lady that ever had a +shinin' silk gown drawed over her shoulders. On'y she a'n't like no +other woman in none of her ways. She don't cry 'n' laugh like other +women. An' she ha'n' got the same kind o' feelin's as other women.--Do +you know that young gen'l'm'n up at the school, Doctor?" + +"Yes, Sophy, I've met him sometimes. He's a very nice sort of young man, +handsome, too, and I don't much wonder Elsie takes to him. Tell me, +Sophy, what do you think would happen, if he should chance to fall in +love with Elsie, and she with him, and he should marry her?" + +"Put your ear close to my lips, Doctor, dear!" She whispered a little to +the Doctor, then added aloud, "He die,--that's all." + +"But surely, Sophy, you a'n't afraid to have Dick marry her, if she would +have him for any reason, are you? He can take care of himself, if +anybody can." + +"Doctor!" Sophy answered, "nobody can take care of hisself that live wi' +Elsie! Nobody never in all this worl' mus' live wi' Elsie but of Sophy, +I tell you. You don' think I care for Dick? What do I care, if Dick +Venner die? He wan's to marry our Elsie so 's to live in the big house +'n' get all the money 'n' all the silver things 'n' all the chists full +o' linen 'n' beautiful clothes. That's what Dick wan's. An' he hates +Elsie 'cos she don' like him. But if he marry Elsie, she 'll make him +die some wrong way or other, 'n' they'll take her 'n' hang her, or he'll +get mad with her 'n' choke her.--Oh, I know his chokin' tricks!--he don' +leave his keys roun' for nothin'" + +"What's that you say, Sophy? Tell me what you mean by all that." + +So poor Sophy had to explain certain facts not in all respects to her +credit. She had taken the opportunity of his absence to look about his +chamber, and, having found a key in one of his drawers, had applied it to +a trunk, and, finding that it opened the trunk, had made a kind of +inspection for contraband articles, and, seeing the end of a leather +thong, had followed it up until she saw that it finished with a noose, +which, from certain appearances, she inferred to have seen service of at +least doubtful nature. An unauthorized search; but old Sophy considered +that a game of life and death was going on in the household, and that she +was bound to look out for her darling. + +The Doctor paused a moment to think over this odd piece of information. +Without sharing Sophy's belief as to the kind of use this +mischievous-looking piece of property had been put to, it was certainly +very odd that Dick should have such a thing at the bottom of his trunk. +The Doctor remembered reading or hearing something about the lasso and +the lariat and the bolas, and had an indistinct idea that they had been +sometimes used as weapons of warfare or private revenge; but they were +essentially a huntsman's implements, after all, and it was not very +strange that this young man had brought one of them with him. Not +strange, perhaps, but worth noting. + +"Do you really think Dick means mischief to anybody, that he has such +dangerous-looking things?" the Doctor said, presently. + +"I tell you, Doctor. Dick means to have Elsie. If he ca'n' get her, he +never let nobody else have her! Oh, Dick 's a dark man, Doctor! I know +him! I 'member him when he was little boy,--he always cunin'. I think he +mean mischief to somebody. He come home late nights,--come in +softly,--oh, I hear him! I lay awake, 'n' got sharp ears,--I hear the +cats walkin' over the roofs,--'n' I hear Dick Veneer, when he comes up in +his stockin'-feet as still as a cat. I think he mean' mischief to +somebody. I no like his looks these las' days.--Is that a very pooty +gen'l'm'n up at the schoolhouse, Doctor?" + +"I told you he was good-looking. What if he is?" + +"I should like to see him, Doctor,--I should like to see the pooty +gen'l'm'n that my poor Elsie loves. She mus 'n' never marry nobody, +--but, oh, Doctor, I should like to see him, 'n' jes' think a little how +it would ha' been, if the Lord had n' been so hard on Elsie." + +She wept and wrung her hands. The kind Doctor was touched, and left her +a moment to her thoughts. + +"And how does Mr. Dudley Veneer take all this?" he said, by way of +changing the subject a little. + +"Oh, Massa Veneer, he good man, but he don' know nothin' 'bout Elsie, as +of Sophy do. I keep close by her; I help her when she go to bed, 'n' set +by her sometime when she--'sleep; I come to her in th' mornin' 'n' help +her put on her things."--Then, in a whisper;--"Doctor, Elsie lets of +Sophy take off that necklace for her. What you think she do, 'f anybody +else tech it?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure, Sophy,--strike the person, perhaps." + +"Oh, yes, strike 'em! but not with her han's, Doctor!"--The old woman's +significant pantomime must be guessed at. + +"But you haven't told me, Sophy, what Mr. Dudley Veneer thinks of his +nephew, nor whether he has any notion that Dick wants to marry Elsie." + +"I tell you. Massa Venner, he good man, but he no see nothin' 'bout what +goes on here in the house. He sort o' broken-hearted, you know,--sort o' +giv up,--don' know what to do wi' Elsie, 'xcep' say 'Yes, yes.' Dick +always look smilin' 'n' behave well before him. One time I thought Massa +Veneer b'lieve Dick was goin' to take to Elsie; but now he don' seem to +take much notice,--he kin' o' stupid-' like 'bout sech things. It's +trouble, Doctor; 'cos Massa Veneer bright man naterally,--'n' he's got a +great heap o' books. I don' think Massa Veneer never been jes' heself +sence Elsie 's born. He done all he know how,--but, Doctor, that wa'n' a +great deal. You men-folks don' know nothin' 'bout these young gals; 'n' +'f you knowed all the young gals that ever lived, y' would n' know +nothin' 'bout our Elsie." + +"No,--but, Sophy, what I want to know is, whether you think Mr. Veneer +has any kind of suspicion about his nephew,--whether he has any notion +that he's a dangerous sort of fellow,--or whether he feels safe to have +him about, or has even taken a sort of fancy to him." + +"Lar' bless you, Doctor, Massa Veneer no more idee 'f any mischief 'bout +Dick than he has 'bout you or me. Y' see, he very fond o' the +Cap'n,--that Dick's father,--'n' he live so long alone here, 'long wi' +us, that he kin' o' like to see mos' anybody 't 's got any o' th' of +family-blood in 'em. He ha'n't got no more suspicions 'n a baby,--y' +never see sech a man 'n y'r life. I kin' o' think he don' care for +nothin' in this world 'xcep' jes' t' do what Elsie wan's him to. The fus' +year after young Madam die he do nothin' but jes' set at the window 'n' +look out at her grave, 'n' then come up 'n' look at the baby's neck 'n' +say, 'It's fadin', Sophy, a'n't it? 'n' then go down in the study 'n' +walk 'n' walk, 'n' them kneel down 'n' pray. Doctor, there was two places +in the old carpet that was all threadbare, where his knees had worn 'em. +An' sometimes, you remember 'bout all that,--he'd go off up into The +Mountain, 'n' be gone all day, 'n' kill all the Ugly Things he could find +up there.--Oh, Doctor, I don' like to think o' them days!--An' by 'n' +by he grew kin' o' still, 'n' begun to read a little, 'n' 't las' he got +'s quiet's a lamb, 'n' that's the way he is now. I think he's got +religion, Doctor; but he a'n't so bright about what's goin' on, 'n' I +don' believe he never suspec' nothin' till somethin' happens; for the' 's +somethin' goin' to happen, Doctor, if the Las' Day does n' come to stop +it; 'n' you mus' tell us what to do, 'n' save my poor Elsie, my baby that +the Lord has n' took care of like all his other childer." + +The Doctor assured the old woman that he was thinking a great deal about +them all, and that there were other eyes on Dick besides her own. Let +her watch him closely about the house, and he would keep a look-out +elsewhere. If there was anything new, she must let him know at once. +Send up one of the menservants, and he would come down at a moment's +warning. + +There was really nothing definite against this young man; but the Doctor +was sure that he was meditating some evil design or other. He rode +straight up to the Institute. There he saw Mr. Bernard, and had a brief +conversation with him, principally on matters relating to his personal +interests. + +That evening, for some unknown reason, Mr. Bernard changed the place of +his desk and drew down the shades of his windows. Late that night Mr. +Richard Venner drew the charge of a rifle, and put the gun back among the +fowling-pieces, swearing that a leather halter was worth a dozen of it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE PERILOUS HOUR. + +Up to this time Dick Venner had not decided on the particular mode and +the precise period of relieving himself from the unwarrantable +interference which threatened to defeat his plans. The luxury of feeling +that he had his man in his power was its own reward. One who watches in +the dark, outside, while his enemy, in utter unconsciousness, is +illuminating his apartment and himself so that every movement of his head +and every button on his coat can be seen and counted, experiences a +peculiar kind of pleasure, if he holds a loaded rifle in his hand, which +he naturally hates to bring to its climax by testing his skill as a +marksman upon the object of his attention. + +Besides, Dick had two sides in his nature, almost as distinct as we +sometimes observe in those persons who are the subjects of the condition +known as double consciousness. On his New England side he was cunning +and calculating, always cautious, measuring his distance before he risked +his stroke, as nicely as if he were throwing his lasso. But he was +liable to intercurrent fits of jealousy and rage, such as the light-hued +races are hardly capable of conceiving, blinding paroxysms of passion, +which for the time overmastered him, and which, if they found no ready +outlet, transformed themselves into the more dangerous forces that worked +through the instrumentality of his cool craftiness. + +He had failed as yet in getting any positive evidence that there was any +relation between Elsie and the schoolmaster other than such as might +exist unsuspected and unblamed between a teacher and his pupil. A book, +or a note, even, did not prove the existence of any sentiment. At one +time he would be devoured by suspicions, at another he would try to laugh +himself out of them. And in the mean while he followed Elsie's tastes as +closely as he could, determined to make some impression upon her,--to +become a habit, a convenience, a necessity,--whatever might aid him in +the attainment of the one end which was now the aim of his life. + +It was to humor one of her tastes already known to the reader, that he +said to her one morning,--"Come, Elsie, take your castanets, and let us +have a dance." + +He had struck the right vein in the girl's fancy, for she was in the mood +for this exercise, and very willingly led the way into one of the more +empty apartments. What there was in this particular kind of dance which +excited her it might not be easy to guess; but those who looked in with +the old Doctor, on a former occasion, and saw her, will remember that she +was strangely carried away by it, and became almost fearful in the +vehemence of her passion. The sound of the castanets seemed to make her +alive all over. Dick knew well enough what the exhibition would be, and +was almost afraid of her at these moments; for it was like the dancing +mania of Eastern devotees, more than the ordinary light amusement of +joyous youth,--a convulsion of the body and the mind, rather than a +series of voluntary modulated motions. + +Elsie rattled out the triple measure of a saraband. Her eyes began to +glitter more brilliantly, and her shape to undulate in freer curves. +Presently she noticed that Dick's look was fixed upon her necklace. His +face betrayed his curiosity; he was intent on solving the question, why +she always wore something about her neck. The chain of mosaics she had +on at that moment displaced itself at every step, and he was peering with +malignant, searching eagerness to see if an unsunned ring of fairer hue +than the rest of the surface, or any less easily explained peculiarity, +were hidden by her ornaments. + +She stopped suddenly, caught the chain of mosaics and settled it hastily +in its place, flung down her castanets, drew herself back, and stood +looking at him, with her head a little on one side, and her eyes +narrowing in the way he had known so long and well. + +"What is the matter, Cousin Elsie? What do you stop for?" he said. + +Elsie did not answer, but kept her eyes on him, full of malicious light. +The jealousy which lay covered up under his surface-thoughts took this +opportunity to break out. + +"You would n't act so, if you were dancing with Mr. Langdon,--would you, +Elsie?" he asked. + +It was with some effort that he looked steadily at her to see the effect +of his question. + +Elsie colored,--not much, but still perceptibly. Dick could not remember +that he had ever seen her show this mark of emotion before, in all his +experience of her fitful changes of mood. It had a singular depth of +significance, therefore, for him; he knew how hardly her color came. +Blushing means nothing, in some persons; in others, it betrays a profound +inward agitation,--a perturbation of the feelings far more trying than +the passions which with many easily moved persons break forth in tears. +All who have observed much are aware that some men, who have seen a good +deal of life in its less chastened aspects and are anything but modest, +will blush often and easily, while there are delicate and sensitive women +who can faint, or go into fits, if necessary, but are very rarely seen to +betray their feelings in their cheeks, even when their expression shows +that their inmost soul is blushing scarlet. Presently she answered, +abruptly and scornfully, "Mr. Langdon is a gentleman, and would not vex +me as you do." + +"A gentleman!" Dick answered, with the most insulting accent,--"a +gentleman! Come, Elsie, you 've got the Dudley blood in your veins, and +it does n't do for you to call this poor, sneaking schoolmaster a +gentleman!" + +He stopped short. Elsie's bosom was heaving, the faint flush on her +cheek was becoming a vivid glow. Whether it were shame or wrath, he saw +that he had reached some deep-lying centre of emotion. There was no +longer any doubt in his mind. With another girl these signs of confusion +might mean little or nothing; with her they were decisive and final. +Elsie Venner loved Bernard Langdon. + +The sudden conviction, absolute, overwhelming, which rushed upon him, had +well-nigh led to an explosion of wrath, and perhaps some terrible scene +which might have fulfilled some of old Sophy's predictions. This, +however, would never do. Dick's face whitened with his thoughts, but he +kept still until he could speak calmly. + +"I've nothing against the young fellow," he said; "only I don't think +there's anything quite good enough to keep the company of people that +have the Dudley blood in them. You a'n't as proud as I am. I can't +quite make up my mind to call a schoolmaster a gentleman, though this one +may be well enough. I 've nothing against him, at any rate." + +Elsie made no answer, but glided out of the room and slid away to her own +apartment. She bolted the door and drew her curtains close. Then she +threw herself on the floor, and fell into a dull, slow ache of passion, +without tears, without words, almost without thoughts. So she remained, +perhaps, for a half-hour, at the end of which time it seemed that her +passion had become a sullen purpose. She arose, and, looking cautiously +round, went to the hearth, which was ornamented with curious old Dutch +tiles, with pictures of Scripture subjects. One of these represented the +lifting of the brazen serpent. She took a hair-pin from one of her +braids, and, insinuating its points under the edge of the tile, raised it +from its place. A small leaden box lay under the tile, which she opened, +and, taking from it a little white powder, which she folded in a scrap of +paper, replaced the box and the tile over it. + +Whether Dick had by any means got a knowledge of this proceeding, or +whether he only suspected some unmentionable design on her part, there is +no sufficient means of determining. At any rate, when they met, an hour +or two after these occurrences, he could not help noticing how easily she +seemed to have got over her excitement. She was very pleasant with +him,--too pleasant, Dick thought. It was not Elsie's way to come out of +a fit of anger so easily as that. She had contrived some way of letting +off her spite; that was certain. Dick was pretty cunning, as old Sophy +had said, and, whether or not he had any means of knowing Elsie's private +intentions, watched her closely, and was on his guard against accidents. + +For the first time, he took certain precautions with reference to his +diet, such as were quite alien to his common habits. On coming to the +dinner-table, that day, he complained of headache, took but little food, +and refused the cup of coffee which Elsie offered him, saying that it did +not agree with him when he had these attacks. + +Here was a new complication. Obviously enough, he could not live in this +way, suspecting everything but plain bread and water, and hardly feeling +safe in meddling with them. Not only had this school-keeping wretch come +between him and the scheme by which he was to secure his future fortune, +but his image had so infected his cousin's mind that she was ready to try +on him some of those tricks which, as he had heard hinted in the village, +she had once before put in practice upon a person who had become odious +to her. + +Something must be done, and at once, to meet the double necessities of +this case. Every day, while the young girl was in these relations with +the young man, was only making matters worse. They could exchange words +and looks, they could arrange private interviews, they would be stooping +together over the same book, her hair touching his cheek, her breath +mingling with his, all the magnetic attractions drawing them together +with strange, invisible effluences. As her passion for the schoolmaster +increased, her dislike to him, her cousin, would grow with it, and all +his dangers would be multiplied. It was a fearful point he had, reached. +He was tempted at one moment to give up all his plans and to disappear +suddenly from the place, leaving with the schoolmaster, who had come +between him and his object, an anonymous token of his personal sentiments +which would be remembered a good while in the history of the town of +Rockland. This was but a momentary thought; the great Dudley property +could not be given up in that way. + +Something must happen at once to break up all this order of things. He +could think of but one Providential event adequate to the emergency,--an +event foreshadowed by various recent circumstances, but hitherto floating +in his mind only as a possibility. Its occurrence would at once change +the course of Elsie's feelings, providing her with something to think of +besides mischief, and remove the accursed obstacle which was thwarting +all his own projects. Every possible motive, then,--his interest, his +jealousy, his longing for revenge, and now his fears for his own +safety,--urged him to regard the happening of a certain casualty as a +matter of simple necessity. This was the self-destruction of Mr. Bernard +Langdon. + +Such an event, though it might be surprising to many people, would not be +incredible, nor without many parallel cases. He was poor, a miserable +fag, under the control of that mean wretch up there at the school, who +looked as if he had sour buttermilk in his veins instead of blood. He +was in love with a girl above his station, rich, and of old family, but +strange in all her ways, and it was conceivable that he should become +suddenly jealous of her. Or she might have frightened him with some +display of her peculiarities which had filled him with a sudden +repugnance in the place of love. Any of these things were credible, and +would make a probable story enough,--so thought Dick over to himself +with the New-England half of his mind. + +Unfortunately, men will not always take themselves out of the way when, +so far as their neighbors are concerned, it would be altogether the most +appropriate and graceful and acceptable service they could render. There +was at this particular moment no special reason for believing that the +schoolmaster meditated any violence to his own person. On the contrary, +there was good evidence that he was taking some care of himself. He was +looking well and in good spirits, and in the habit of amusing himself and +exercising, as if to keep up his standard of health, especially of taking +certain evening-walks, before referred to, at an hour when most of the +Rockland people had "retired," or, in vulgar language, "gone to bed." + +Dick Veneer settled it, however, in his own mind, that Mr. Bernard +Langdon must lay violent hands upon himself. He even went so far as to +determine the precise hour, and the method in which the "rash act," as it +would undoubtedly be called in the next issue of "The Rockland Weekly +Universe," should be committed. Time,--this evening. Method, asphyxia, +by suspension. It was, unquestionably, taking a great liberty with a man +to decide that he should become felo de se without his own consent. +Such, however, was the decision of Mr. Richard Veneer with regard to Mr. +Bernard Langdon. + +If everything went right, then, there would be a coroner's inquest +to-morrow upon what remained of that gentleman, found suspended to the +branch of a tree somewhere within a mile of the Apollinean Institute. +The "Weekly Universe" would have a startling paragraph announcing a "SAD +EVENT!!!" which had "thrown the town into an intense state of excitement. +Mr. Barnard Langden, a well-known teacher at the Appolinian Institute, +was found, etc., etc. The vital spark was extinct. The motive to the +rash act can only be conjectured, but is supposed to be disappointed +affection. The name of an accomplished young lady of the highest +respectability and great beauty is mentioned in connection with this +melancholy occurrence." + +Dick Venner was at the tea-table that evening, as usual.--No, he would +take green tea, if she pleased,--the same that her father drank. It +would suit his headache better.--Nothing,--he was much obliged to her. +He would help himself,--which he did in a little different way from +common, naturally enough, on account of his headache. He noticed that +Elsie seemed a little nervous while she was rinsing some of the teacups +before their removal. + +"There's something going on in that witch's head," he said to himself. +"I know her,--she 'd be savage now, if she had n't got some trick in +hand. Let 's see how she looks to-morrow!" + +Dick announced that he should go to bed early that evening, on account of +this confounded headache which had been troubling him so much. In fact, +he went up early, and locked his door after him, with as much noise as he +could make. He then changed some part of his dress, so that it should be +dark throughout, slipped off his boots, drew the lasso out from the +bottom of the contents of his trunk, and, carrying that and his boots in +his hand, opened his door softly, locked it after him, and stole down the +back-stairs, so as to get out of the house unnoticed. He went straight +to the stable and saddled the mustang. He took a rope from the stable +with him, mounted his horse, and set forth in the direction of the +Institute. + +Mr. Bernard, as we have seen, had not been very profoundly impressed by +the old Doctor's cautions,--enough, however, to follow out some of his +hints which were not troublesome to attend to. He laughed at the idea of +carrying a loaded pistol about with him; but still it seemed only fair, +as the old Doctor thought so much of the matter, to humor him about it. +As for not going about when and where he liked, for fear he might have +some lurking enemy, that was a thing not to be listened to nor thought +of. There was nothing to be ashamed of or troubled about in any of his +relations with the school-girls. Elsie, no doubt, showed a kind of +attraction towards him, as did perhaps some others; but he had been +perfectly discreet, and no father or brother or lover had any just cause +of quarrel with him. To be sure, that dark young man at the Dudley +mansion-house looked as if he were his enemy, when he had met him; but +certainly there was nothing in their relations to each other, or in his +own to Elsie, that would be like to stir such malice in his mind as would +lead him to play any of his wild Southern tricks at his, Mr. Bernard's, +expense. Yet he had a vague feeling that this young man was dangerous, +and he had been given to understand that one of the risks he ran was from +that quarter. + +On this particular evening, he had a strange, unusual sense of some +impending peril. His recent interview with the Doctor, certain remarks +which had been dropped in his hearing, but above all an unaccountable +impression upon his spirits, all combined to fill his mind with a +foreboding conviction that he was very near some overshadowing danger. +It was as the chill of the ice-mountain toward which the ship is steering +under full sail. He felt a strong impulse to see Helen Darley and talk +with her. She was in the common parlor, and, fortunately, alone. + +"Helen," he said,--for they were almost like brother and sister now,--"I +have been thinking what you would do, if I should have to leave the +school at short notice, or be taken away suddenly by any accident." + +"Do?" she said, her cheek growing paler than its natural delicate +hue,--"why, I do not know how I could possibly consent to live here, if +you left us. Since you came, my life has been almost easy; before, it +was getting intolerable. You must not talk about going, my dear friend; +you have spoiled me for my place. Who is there here that I can have any +true society with, but you? You would not leave us for another school, +would you?" + +"No, no, my dear Helen," Mr. Bernard said, "if it depends on myself, I +shall stay out my full time, and enjoy your company and friendship. But +everything is uncertain in this world. I have been thinking that I might +be wanted elsewhere, and called when I did not think of it;--it was a +fancy, perhaps,--but I can't keep it out of my mind this evening. If any +of my fancies should come true, Helen, there are two or three messages I +want to leave with you. I have marked a book or two with a cross in +pencil on the fly-leaf;--these are for you. There is a little hymn-book I +should like to have you give to Elsie from me;--it may be a kind of +comfort to the poor girl." + +Helen's eyes glistened as she interrupted him,-- + +"What do you mean? You must not talk so, Mr. Langdon. Why, you never +looked better in your life. Tell me now, you are not in earnest, are +you, but only trying a little sentiment on me?" + +Mr. Bernard smiled, but rather sadly. + +"About half in earnest," he said. "I have had some fancies in my +head,--superstitions, I suppose,--at any rate, it does no harm to tell +you what I should like to have done, if anything should happen,--very +likely nothing ever will. Send the rest of the books home, if you +please, and write a letter to my mother. And, Helen, you will find one +small volume in my desk enveloped and directed, you will see to +whom;--give this with your own hands; it is a keepsake." + +The tears gathered in her eyes; she could not speak at first. Presently, +"Why, Bernard, my dear friend, my brother, it cannot be that you are in +danger? Tell me what it is, and, if I can share it with you, or counsel +you in any way, it will only be paying back the great debt I owe you. +No, no,--it can't be true,--you are tired and worried, and your spirits +have got depressed. I know what that is;--I was sure, one winter, that +I should die before spring; but I lived to see the dandelions and +buttercups go to seed. Come, tell me it was nothing but your +imagination." + +She felt a tear upon her cheek, but would not turn her face away from +him; it was the tear of a sister. + +"I am really in earnest, Helen," he said. "I don't know that there is +the least reason in the world for these fancies. If they all go off and +nothing comes of them, you may laugh at me, if you like. But if there +should be any occasion, remember my requests. You don't believe in +presentiments, do you?" + +"Oh, don't ask-me, I beg you," Helen answered. "I have had a good many +frights for every one real misfortune I have suffered. Sometimes I have +thought I was warned beforehand of coming trouble, just as many people +are of changes in the weather, by some unaccountable feeling,--but not +often, and I don't like to talk about such things. I wouldn't think +about these fancies of yours. I don't believe you have exercised +enough;--don't you think it's confinement in the school has made you +nervous?" + +"Perhaps it has; but it happens that I have thought more of exercise +lately, and have taken regular evening walks, besides playing my old +gymnastic tricks every day." + +They talked on many subjects, but through all he said Helen perceived a +pervading tone of sadness, and an expression as of a dreamy foreboding of +unknown evil. They parted at the usual hour, and went to their several +rooms. The sadness of Mr. Bernard had sunk into the heart of Helen, and +she mingled many tears with her prayers that evening, earnestly +entreating that he might be comforted in his days of trial and protected +in his hour of danger. + +Mr. Bernard stayed in his room a short time before setting out for his +evening walk. His eye fell upon the Bible his mother had given him when +he left home, and he opened it in the New Testament at a venture. It +happened that the first words he read were these,--"Lest, coming +suddenly, he find you sleeping." In the state of mind in which he was at +the moment, the text startled him. It was like a supernatural warning. +He was not going to expose himself to any particular danger this evening; +a walk in a quiet village was as free from risk as Helen Darley or his +own mother could ask; yet he had an unaccountable feeling of +apprehension, without any definite object. At this moment he remembered +the old Doctor's counsel, which he had sometimes neglected, and, blushing +at the feeling which led him to do it, he took the pistol his suspicious +old friend had forced upon him, which he had put away loaded, and, +thrusting it into his pocket, set out upon his walk. + +The moon was shining at intervals, for the night was partially clouded. +There seemed to be nobody stirring, though his attention was unusually +awake, and he could hear the whirr of the bats overhead, and the +pulsating croak of the frogs in the distant pools and marshes. Presently +he detected the sound of hoofs at some distance, and, looking forward, +saw a horseman coming in his direction. The moon was under a cloud at +the moment, and he could only observe that the horse and his rider looked +like a single dark object, and that they were moving along at an easy +pace. Mr. Bernard was really ashamed of himself, when he found his hand +on the butt of his pistol. When the horseman was within a hundred and +fifty yards of him, the moon shone out suddenly and revealed each of them +to the other. The rider paused for a moment, as if carefully surveying +the pedestrian, then suddenly put his horse to the full gallop, and +dashed towards him, rising at the same instant in his stirrups and +swinging something round his head, what, Mr. Bernard could not make out. +It was a strange manoeuvre,--so strange and threatening in aspect that +the young man forgot his nervousness in an instant, cocked his pistol, +and waited to see what mischief all this meant. He did not wait long. As +the rider came rushing towards him, he made a rapid motion and something +leaped five-and-twenty feet through the air, in Mr. Bernard's direction. +In an instant he felt a ring, as of a rope or thong, settle upon his +shoulders. There was no time to think, he would be lost in another +second. He raised his pistol and fired,--not at the rider, but at the +horse. His aim was true; the mustang gave one bound and fell lifeless, +shot through the head. The lasso was fastened to his saddle, and his +last bound threw Mr. Bernard violently to the earth, where he lay +motionless, as if stunned. + +In the mean time, Dick Venner, who had been dashed down with his horse, +was trying to extricate himself,--one of his legs being held fast under +the animal, the long spur on his boot having caught in the saddle-cloth. +He found, however, that he could do nothing with his right arm, his +shoulder having been in some way injured in his fall. But his Southern +blood was up, and, as he saw Mr. Bernard move as if he were coming to his +senses, he struggled violently to free himself. + +"I 'll have the dog, yet," he said,--"only let me get at him with the +knife!" + +He had just succeeded in extricating his imprisoned leg, and was ready to +spring to his feet, when he was caught firmly by the throat, and looking +up, saw a clumsy barbed weapon, commonly known as a hay fork, within an +inch of his breast. + +"Hold on there! What 'n thunder 'r' y' abaout, y' darned Portagee?" said +a voice, with a decided nasal tone in it, but sharp and resolute. + +Dick looked from the weapon to the person who held it, and saw a sturdy, +plain man standing over him, with his teeth clinched, and his aspect that +of one all ready for mischief. + +"Lay still, naow!" said Abel Stebbins, the Doctor's man; "'f y' don't, +I'll stick ye, 'z sure 'z y' 'r' alive! I been arfter ye f'r a week, 'n' +I got y' naow! I knowed I'd ketch ye at some darned trick or 'nother +'fore I'd done 'ith ye!" + +Dick lay perfectly still, feeling that he was crippled and helpless, +thinking all the time with the Yankee half of his mind what to do about +it. He saw Mr. Bernard lift his head and look around him. He would get +his senses again in a few minutes, very probably, and then he, Mr. +Richard Venner, would be done for. + +"Let me up! let me up!" he cried, in a low, hurried voice,--"I 'll give +you a hundred dollars in gold to let me go. The man a'n't hurt,--don't +you see him stirring? He'll come to himself in two minutes. Let me up! +I'll give you a hundred and fifty dollars in gold, now, here on the +spot,--and the watch out of my pocket; take it yourself, with your own +hands!" + +"I'll see y' darned fust! Ketch me lett'n' go!" was Abel's emphatic +answer. "Yeou lay still, 'n' wait t'll that man comes tew." + +He kept the hay-fork ready for action at the slightest sign of +resistance. + +Mr. Bernard, in the mean time, had been getting, first his senses, and +then some few of his scattered wits, a little together. + +"What is it?"--he said. "Who'shurt? What's happened?" + +"Come along here 'z quick 'z y' ken," Abel answered, "'n' haalp me fix +this fellah. Y' been hurt, y'rself, 'n' the' 's murder come pooty nigh +happenin'." + +Mr. Bernard heard the answer, but presently stared about and asked again, +"Who's hurt? What's happened?" + +"Y' 'r' hurt, y'rself, I tell ye," said Abel; "'n' the' 's been a murder, +pooty nigh." + +Mr. Bernard felt something about his neck, and, putting his hands up, +found the loop of the lasso, which he loosened, but did not think to slip +over his head, in the confusion of his perceptions and thoughts. It was a +wonder that it had not choked him, but he had fallen forward so as to +slacken it. + +By this time he was getting some notion of what he was about, and +presently began looking round for his pistol, which had fallen. He found +it lying near him, cocked it mechanically, and walked, somewhat +unsteadily, towards the two men, who were keeping their position as still +as if they were performing in a tableau. + +"Quick, naow!" said Abel, who had heard the click of cocking the pistol, +and saw that he held it in his hand, as he came towards him. "Gi' me that +pistil, and yeou fetch that 'ere rope layin' there. I 'll have this here +fella,h fixed 'n less 'n two minutes." + +Mr. Bernard did as Abel said,--stupidly and mechanically, for he was but +half right as yet. Abel pointed the pistol at Dick's head. + +"Naow hold up y'r hands, yeou fellah," he said, "'n' keep 'em up, while +this man puts the rope mound y'r wrists." + +Dick felt himself helpless, and, rather than have his disabled arm +roughly dealt with, held up his hands. Mr. Bernard did as Abel said; he +was in a purely passive state, and obeyed orders like a child. Abel then +secured the rope in a most thorough and satisfactory complication of +twists and knots. + +"Naow get up, will ye?" he said; and the unfortunate Dick rose to his +feet. + +"Who's hurt? What's happened?" asked poor Mr. Bernard again, his memory +having been completely jarred out of him for the time. + +"Come, look here naow, yeou, don' Stan' askin' questions over 'n' +over;--'t beats all! ha'n't I tol' y' a dozen times?" + +As Abel spoke, he turned and looked at Mr. Bernard. + +"Hullo! What 'n thunder's that 'ere raoun' y'r neck? Ketched ye 'ith a +slippernoose, hey? Wal, if that a'n't the craowner! Hol' on a minute, +Cap'n, 'n' I'll show ye what that 'ere halter's good for." + +Abel slipped the noose over Mr. Bernard's head, and put it round the neck +of the miserable Dick Veneer, who made no sign of resistance,--whether +on account of the pain he was in, or from mere helplessness, or because +he was waiting for some unguarded moment to escape,--since resistance +seemed of no use. + +"I 'm go'n' to kerry y' home," said Abel; "'T' th' ol Doctor, he's got a +gre't cur'osity t' see ye. Jes' step along naow,--off that way, will +ye?--'n' I Ill hol' on t' th' bridle, f' fear y' sh'd run away." + +He took hold of the leather thong, but found that it was fastened at the +other end to the saddle. This was too much for Abel. + +"Wal, naow, yeou be a pooty chap to hev raound! A fellah's neck in a +slippernoose at one eend of a halter, 'n' a hors on th' full spring at t' +other eend!" + +He looked at him from' head to foot as a naturalist inspects a new +specimen. His clothes had suffered in his fall, especially on the leg +which had been caught under the horse. + +"Hullo! look o' there, naow! What's that 'ere stickin' aout o' y'r +boot?" + +It was nothing but the handle of an ugly knife, which Abel instantly +relieved him of. + +The party now took up the line of march for old Doctor Kittredge's house, +Abel carrying the pistol and knife, and Mr. Bernard walking in silence, +still half-stunned, holding the hay-fork, which Abel had thrust into his +hand. It was all a dream to him as yet. He remembered the horseman +riding at him, and his firing the pistol; but whether he was alive, and +these walls around him belonged to the village of Rockland, or whether he +had passed the dark river, and was in a suburb of the New Jerusalem, he +could not as yet have told. + +They were in the street where the Doctor's house was situated. + +"I guess I'll fire off one o' these here berrils," said Abel. + +He fired. + +Presently there was a noise of opening windows, and the nocturnal +head-dresses of Rockland flowered out of them like so many developments +of the Nightblooming Cereus. White cotton caps and red bandanna +handkerchiefs were the prevailing forms of efflorescence. The main point +was that the village was waked up. The old Doctor always waked easily, +from long habit, and was the first among those who looked out to see what +had happened. + +"Why, Abel!" he called out, "what have you got there? and what 's all +this noise about?" + +"We've ketched the Portagee!" Abel answered, as laconically as the hero +of Lake Erie, in his famous dispatch. "Go in there, you fellah!" + +The prisoner was marched into the house, and the Doctor, who had +bewitched his clothes upon him in a way that would have been miraculous +in anybody but a physician, was down in presentable form as soon as if it +had been a child in a fit that he was sent for. + +"Richard Veneer!" the Doctor exclaimed. "What is the meaning of all +this? Mr. Langdon, has anything happened to you?" + +Mr. Bernard put his hand to his head. + +"My mind is confused," he said. "I've had a fall.--Oh, yes!--wait a +minute and it will all come back to me." + +"Sit down, sit down," the Doctor said. "Abel will tell me about it. +Slight concussion of the brain. Can't remember very well for an hour or +two,--will come right by to-morrow." + +"Been stunded," Abel said. "He can't tell nothin'." + +Abel then proceeded to give a Napoleonic bulletin of the recent combat of +cavalry and infantry and its results,--none slain, one captured. + +The Doctor looked at the prisoner through his spectacles. + +"What 's the matter with your shoulder, Venner?" + +Dick answered sullenly, that he didn't know, fell on it when his horse +came down. The Doctor examined it as carefully as he could through his +clothes. + +"Out of joint. Untie his hands, Abel" + +By this time a small alarm had spread among the neighbors, and there was +a circle around Dick, who glared about on the assembled honest people +like a hawk with a broken wing. + +When the Doctor said, "Untie his hands," the circle widened perceptibly. + +"Isn't it a leetle rash to give him the use of his hands? I see there's +females and children standin' near." + +This was the remark of our old friend, Deacon Soper, who retired from the +front row, as he spoke, behind a respectable-looking, but somewhat +hastily dressed person of the defenceless sex, the female help of a +neighboring household, accompanied by a boy, whose unsmoothed shock of +hair looked like a last year's crow's-nest. + +But Abel untied his hands, in spite of the Deacon's considerate +remonstrance. + +"Now," said the Doctor, "the first thing is to put the joint back." + +"Stop," said Deacon Soper,--"stop a minute. Don't you think it will be +safer--for the women-folks--jest to wait till mornin', afore you put that +j'int into the socket?" + +Colonel Sprowle, who had been called by a special messenger, spoke up at +this moment. + +"Let the women-folks and the deacons go home, if they're scared, and put +the fellah's j'int in as quick as you like. I 'll resk him, j'int in or +out." + +"I want one of you to go straight down to Dudley Venner's with a +message," the Doctor said. "I will have the young man's shoulder in +quick enough." + +"Don't send that message!" said Dick, in a hoarse voice;--"do what you +like with my arm, but don't send that message! Let me go,--I can walk, +and I'll be off from this place. There's nobody hurt but myself. Damn +the shoulder!--let me go! You shall never hear of me again!" + +Mr. Bernard came forward. + +"My friends," he said, "I am not injured,--seriously, at least. Nobody +need complain against this man, if I don't. The Doctor will treat him +like a human being, at any rate; and then, if he will go, let him. There +are too many witnesses against him here for him to want to stay." + +The Doctor, in the mean time, without saying a word to all this, had got +a towel round the shoulder and chest and another round the arm, and had +the bone replaced in a very few minutes. + +"Abel, put Cassia into the new chaise," he said, quietly. "My friends +and neighbors, leave this young man to me." + +"Colonel Sprowle, you're a justice of the peace," said Deacon Soper, "and +you know what the law says in cases like this. It a'n't so clear that it +won't have to come afore the Grand Jury, whether we will or no." + +"I guess we'll set that j'int to-morrow mornin'," said Colonel +Sprowle,--which made a laugh at the Deacon's expense, and virtually +settled the question. + +"Now trust this young man in my care," said the old Doctor, "and go home +and finish your naps. I knew him when he was a boy and I'll answer for +it, he won't trouble you any more. The Dudley blood makes folks proud, I +can tell you, whatever else they are." + +The good people so respected and believed in the Doctor that they left +the prisoner with him. + +Presently, Cassia, the fast Morgan mare, came up to the front-door, with +the wheels of the new, light chaise flashing behind her in the moonlight. +The Doctor drove Dick forty miles at a stretch that night, out of the +limits of the State. + +"Do you want money?" he said, before he left him. + +Dick told him the secret of his golden belt. + +"Where shall I send your trunk after you from your uncle's?" + +Dick gave him a direction to a seaport town to which he himself was +going, to take passage for a port in South America. + +"Good-bye, Richard," said the Doctor. "Try to learn something from +to-night's lesson." + +The Southern impulses in Dick's wild blood overcame him, and he kissed +the old Doctor on both cheeks, crying as only the children of the sun can +cry, after the first hours in the dewy morning of life. So Dick Venner +disappears from this story. An hour after dawn, Cassia pointed her fine +ears homeward, and struck into her square, honest trot, as if she had not +been doing anything more than her duty during her four hours' stretch of +the last night. + +Abel was not in the habit of questioning the Doctor's decisions. + +"It's all right," he said to Mr. Bernard. "The fellah 's Squire Venner's +relation, anyhaow. Don't you want to wait here, jest a little while, +till I come back? The's a consid'able nice saddle 'n' bridle on a dead +boss that's layin' daown there in the road 'n' I guess the' a'n't no use +in lettin' on 'em spite,--so I'll jest step aout 'n' fetch 'em along. I +kind o' calc'late 't won't pay to take the cretur's shoes 'n' hide off +to-night,--'n' the' won't be much iron on that hose's huffs an haour +after daylight, I'll bate ye a quarter." + +"I'll walk along with you," said Mr. Bernard; "I feel as if I could get +along well enough now." + +So they set off together. There was a little crowd round the dead +mustang already, principally consisting of neighbors who had adjourned +from the Doctor's house to see the scene of the late adventure. In +addition to these, however, the assembly was honored by the presence of +Mr. Principal Silas Peckham, who had been called from his slumbers by a +message that Master Langdon was shot through the head by a +highway-robber, but had learned a true version of the story by this time. +His voice was at that moment heard above the rest,--sharp, but thin, like +bad cider-vinegar. + +"I take charge of that property, I say. Master Langdon 's actin' under +my orders, and I claim that hoss and all that's on him. Hiram! jest slip +off that saddle and bridle, and carry 'em up to the Institoot, and bring +down a pair of pinchers and a file,--and--stop--fetch a pair of shears, +too; there's hosshair enough in that mane and tail to stuff a bolster +with." + +"You let that hoss alone!" spoke up Colonel Sprowle. "When a fellah goes +out huntin' and shoots a squirrel, do you think he's go'n' to let another +fellah pick him up and kerry him off? Not if he's got a double-berril +gun, and t'other berril ha'n't been fired off yet! I should like to see +the mahn that'll take off that seddle 'n' bridle, excep' the one th't hez +a fair right to the whole concern!" + +Hiram was from one of the lean streaks in New Hampshire, and, not being +overfed in Mr. Silas Peckham's kitchen, was somewhat wanting in stamina, +as well as in stomach, for so doubtful an enterprise, as undertaking to +carry out his employer's orders in the face of the Colonel's defiance. + +Just then Mr. Bernard and Abel came up together. "Here they be," said +the Colonel. "Stan' beck, gentlemen!" + +Mr. Bernard, who was pale and still a little confused, but gradually +becoming more like himself, stood and looked in silence for a moment. + +All his thoughts seemed to be clearing themselves in this interval. He +took in the whole series of incidents: his own frightful risk; the +strange, instinctive, nay, Providential impulse, which had led him so +suddenly to do the one only thing which could possibly have saved him; +the sudden appearance of the Doctor's man, but for which he might yet +have been lost; and the discomfiture and capture of his dangerous enemy. + +It was all past now, and a feeling of pity rose in Mr. Bernard's heart. + +"He loved that horse, no doubt," he said,--"and no wonder. A beautiful, +wild--looking creature! Take off those things that are on him, Abel, and +have them carried to Mr. Dudley Veneer's. If he does not want them, you +may keep them yourself, for all that I have to say. One thing more. I +hope nobody will lift his hand against this noble creature to mutilate +him in any way. After you have taken off the saddle and bridle, Abel, +bury him just as he is. Under that old beech-tree will be a good place. +You'll see to it,--won't you, Abel?" + +Abel nodded assent, and Mr. Bernard returned to the Institute, threw +himself in his clothes on the bed, and slept like one who is heavy with +wine. + +Following Mr. Bernard's wishes, Abel at once took off the high-peaked +saddle and the richly ornamented bridle from the mustang. Then, with the +aid of two or three others, he removed him to the place indicated. +Spades and shovels were soon procured, and before the moon had set, the +wild horse of the Pampas was at rest under the turf at the wayside, in +the far village among the hills of New England. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE NEWS REACHES THE DUDLEY MANSION. + +Early the next morning Abel Stebbins made his appearance at Dudley +Veneer's, and requested to see the maan o' the haouse abaout somethin' o' +consequence. Mr. Veneer sent word that the messenger should wait below, +and presently appeared in the study, where Abel was making himself at +home, as is the wont of the republican citizen, when he hides the purple +of empire beneath the apron of domestic service. + +"Good mornin', Squire!" said Abel, as Mr. Venner entered. "My name's +Stebbins, 'n' I'm stoppin' f'r a spell 'ith of Doctor Kittredge." + +"Well, Stebbins," said Mr. Dudley Veneer, "have you brought any special +message from the Doctor?" + +"Y' ha'n't heerd nothin' abaout it, Squire, d' ye mean t' say?" said +Abel,--beginning to suspect that he was the first to bring the news of +last evening's events. + +"About what?" asked Mr. Veneer, with some interest. + +"Dew tell, naow! Waal, that beats all! Why, that 'ere Portagee relation +o' yourn 'z been tryin' t' ketch a fellah 'n a slippernoose, 'n' got +ketched himself,--that's all. Y' ha'n't heerd noth'n' abaout it?" + +"Sit down," said Mr. Dudley Veneer, calmly, "and tell me all you have to +say." + +So Abel sat down and gave him an account of the events of the last +evening. It was a strange and terrible surprise to Dudley Veneer to find +that his nephew, who had been an inmate of his house and the companion of +his daughter, was to all intents and purposes guilty of the gravest of +crimes. But the first shock was no sooner over than he began to think +what effect the news would have on Elsie. He imagined that there was a +kind of friendly feeling between them, and he feared some crisis would be +provoked in his daughter's mental condition by the discovery. He would +wait, however, until she came from her chamber, before disturbing her +with the evil tidings. + +Abel did not forget his message with reference to the equipments of the +dead mustang. + +"The' was some things on the hoss, Squire, that the man he ketched said +he did n' care no gre't abaout; but perhaps you'd like to have 'em +fetched to the mansion-haouse. Ef y' did n' care abaout 'em, though, I +should n' min' keepin' on 'em; they might come handy some time or +'nother; they say, holt on t' anything for ten year 'n' there 'll be some +kin' o' use for 't." + +"Keep everything," said Dudley Veneer. "I don't want to see anything +belonging to that young man." + +So Abel nodded to Mr. Veneer, and left the study to find some of the men +about the stable to tell and talk over with them the events of the last +evening. He presently came upon Elbridge, chief of the equine +department, and driver of the family-coach. + +"Good mornin', Abe," said Elbridge. "What's fetched y' daown here so +all-fired airly?" + +"You're a darned pooty lot daown here, you be!" + +Abel answered. "Better keep your Portagees t' home nex' time, ketchin' +folks 'ith slippernooses raoun' their necks, 'n' kerryin' knives 'n their +boots!" + +"What 'r' you jawin' abaout?" Elbridge said, looking up to see if he was +in earnest, and what he meant. + +"Jawin' abaout? You'll find aout'z soon 'z y' go into that 'ere stable +o' yourn! Y' won't curry that 'ere long-tailed black hoss no more; 'n' +y' won't set y'r eyes on the fellah that rid him, ag'in, in a hurry!" + +Elbridge walked straight to the stable, without saying a word, found the +door unlocked, and went in. + +"Th' critter's gone, sure enough!" he said. "Glad on 't! The darndest, +kickin'est, bitin'est beast th't ever I see, 'r ever wan' t' see ag'in! +Good reddance! Don' wan' no snappin'-turkles in my stable! Whar's the +man gone th't brought the critter?" + +"Whar he's gone? Guess y' better go 'n ask my ol man; he kerried him off +lass' night; 'n' when he comes back, mebbe he 'll tell ye whar he's gone +tew!" + +By this time Elbridge had found out that Abel was in earnest, and had +something to tell. He looked at the litter in the mustang's stall, then +at the crib. + +"Ha'n't eat b't haalf his feed. Ha'n't been daown on his straw. Must ha' +been took aout somewhere abaout ten 'r 'levee o'clock. I know that 'ere +critter's ways. The fellah's had him aout nights afore; b't I never +thought nothin' o' no mischief. He 's a kin' o' haalf Injin. What is 't +the chap's been a-doin' on? Tell 's all abaout it." + +Abel sat down on a meal-chest, picked up a straw and put it into his +mouth. Elbridge sat down at the other end, pulled out his jack-knife, +opened the penknife-blade, and began sticking it into the lid of the +meal-chest. The Doctor's man had a story to tell, and he meant to get +all the enjoyment out of it. So he told it with every luxury of +circumstance. Mr. Veneer's man heard it all with open mouth. No +listener in the gardens of Stamboul could have found more rapture in a +tale heard amidst the perfume of roses and the voices of birds and +tinkling of fountains than Elbridge in following Abel's narrative, as +they sat there in the aromatic ammoniacal atmosphere of the stable, the +grinding of the horses' jaws keeping evenly on through it all, with now +and then the interruption of a stamping hoof, and at intervals a ringing +crow from the barn-yard. + +Elbridge stopped a minute to think, after Abel had finished. + +"Who's took care o' them things that was on the hoss?" he said, gravely. + +"Waal, Langden, he seemed to kin 'o' think I'd ought to have 'em,--'n' +the Squire; he did n' seem to have no 'bjection; 'n' so,--waal, I +calc'late I sh'll jes' holt on to 'em myself; they a'n't good f 'r much, +but they're cur'ous t' keep t' look at." + +Mr. Veneer's man did not appear much gratified by this arrangement, +especially as he had a shrewd suspicion that some of the ornaments of the +bridle were of precious metal, having made occasional examinations of +them with the edge of a file. But he did not see exactly what to do +about it, except to get them from Abel in the way of bargain. + +"Waal, no,--they a'n't good for much 'xcep' to look at. 'F y' ever rid +on that seddle once, y' would n' try it ag'in, very spry,--not 'f y' c'd +haalp y'rsaalf. + +"I tried it,--darned 'f I sot daown f'r th' nex' week,--eat all my +victuals stan'in'. I sh'd like t' hev them things wal enough to heng up +'n the stable; 'f y' want t' trade some day, fetch 'em along daown." + +Abel rather expected that Elbridge would have laid claim to the saddle +and bridle on the strength of some promise or other presumptive title, +and thought himself lucky to get off with only offering to think abaout +tradin'. + +When Elbridge returned to the house, he found the family in a state of +great excitement. Mr. Venner had told Old Sophy, and she had informed +the other servants. Everybody knew what had happened, excepting Elsie. +Her father had charged them all to say nothing about it to her; he would +tell her, when she came down. + +He heard her step at last,--alight, gliding step,--so light that her +coming was often unheard, except by those who perceived the faint rustle +that went with it. She was paler than common this morning, as she came +into her father's study. + +After a few words of salutation, he said quietly, "Elsie, my dear, your +cousin Richard has left us." + +She grew still paler, as she asked, + +"Is he dead?" + +Dudley Venner started to see the expression with which Elsie put this +question. + +"He is living,--but dead to us from this day forward," said her father. + +He proceeded to tell her, in a general way, the story he had just heard +from Abel. There could be no doubting it;--he remembered him as the +Doctor's man; and as Abel had seen all with his own eyes, as Dick's +chamber, when unlocked with a spare key, was found empty, and his bed had +not been slept in, he accepted the whole account as true. + +When he told of Dick's attempt on the young schoolmaster, ("You know Mr. +Langdon very well, Elsie,--a perfectly inoffensive young man, as I +understand,") Elsie turned her face away and slid along by the wall to +the window which looked out oh the little grass-plot with the white stone +standing in it. Her father could not see her face, but he knew by her +movements that her dangerous mood was on her. When she heard the sequel +of the story, the discomfiture and capture of Dick, she turned round for +an instant, with a look of contempt and of something like triumph upon +her face. Her father saw that her cousin had become odious to her: He +knew well, by every change of her countenance, by her movements, by every +varying curve of her graceful figure, the transitions front passion to +repose, from fierce excitement to the dull languor which often succeeded +her threatening paroxysms. + +She remained looking out at the window. A group of white fan-tailed +pigeons had lighted on the green plot before it and clustered about one +of their companions who lay on his back, fluttering in a strange way, +with outspread wings and twitching feet. Elsie uttered a faint cry; +these were her special favorites and often fed from her hand. She threw +open the long window, sprang out, caught up the white fantail, and held +it to her bosom. The bird stretched himself out, and then lay still, +with open eyes, lifeless. She looked at him a moment, and, sliding in +through the open window and through the study, sought her own apartment, +where she locked herself in, and began to sob and moan like those that +weep. But the gracious solace of tears seemed to be denied her, and her +grief, like her anger, was a dull ache, longing, like that, to finish +itself with a fierce paroxysm, but wanting its natural outlet. + +This seemingly trifling incident of the death of her favorite appeared to +change all the current of her thought. Whether it were the sight of the +dying bird, or the thought that her own agency might have beep concerned +in it, or some deeper grief, which took this occasion to declare +itself,--some dark remorse or hopeless longing,--whatever it might be, +there was an unwonted tumult in her soul. To whom should she go in her +vague misery? Only to Him who knows all His creatures' sorrows, and +listens to the faintest human cry. She knelt, as she had been taught to +kneel from her childhood, and tried to pray. But her thoughts refused to +flow in the language of supplication. She could not plead for herself as +other women plead in their hours of anguish. She rose like one who +should stoop to drink, and find dust in the place of water. Partly from +restlessness, partly from an attraction she hardly avowed to herself, she +followed her usual habit and strolled listlessly along to the school. + +Of course everybody at the Institute was full of the terrible adventure +of the preceding evening. Mr. Bernard felt poorly enough; but he had +made it a point to show himself the next morning, as if nothing had +happened. Helen Darley knew nothing of it all until she hard risen, when +the gossipy matron of the establishment made her acquainted with all its +details, embellished with such additional ornamental appendages as it had +caught up in transmission from lip to lip. She did not love to betray +her sensibilities, but she was pale and tremulous and very nearly tearful +when Mr. Bernard entered the sitting-room, showing on his features traces +of the violent shock he had received and the heavy slumber from which he +had risen with throbbing brows. What the poor girl's impulse was, on +seeing him, we need not inquire too curiously. If he had been her own +brother, she would have kissed him and cried on his neck; but something +held her back. There is no galvanism in kiss-your-brother; it is copper +against copper: but alien bloods develop strange currents, when they flow +close to each other, with only the films that cover lip and cheek between +them. Mr. Bernard, as some of us may remember, violated the proprieties +and laid himself open to reproach by his enterprise with a bouncing +village-girl, to whose rosy cheek an honest smack was not probably an +absolute novelty. He made it all up by his discretion and good behavior +now. He saw by Helen's moist eye and trembling lip that her woman's +heart was off its guard, and he knew, by the infallible instinct of sex, +that he should be forgiven, if he thanked her for her sisterly sympathies +in the most natural way,--expressive, and at the same time economical of +breath and utterance. He would not give a false look to their friendship +by any such demonstration. Helen was a little older than himself, but +the aureole of young womanhood had not yet begun to fade from around her. +She was surrounded by that enchanted atmosphere into which the girl walks +with dreamy eyes, and out of which the woman passes with a story written +on her forehead. Some people think very little of these refinements; +they have not studied magnetism and the law of the square of the +distance. + +So Mr. Bernard thanked Helen for her interest without the aid of the +twenty-seventh letter of the alphabet,--the love labial,--the limping +consonant which it takes two to speak plain. Indeed, he scarcely let her +say a word, at first; for he saw that it was hard for her to conceal her +emotion. No wonder; he had come within a hair's-breadth of losing his +life, and he had been a very kind friend and a very dear companion to +her. + +There were some curious spiritual experiences connected with his last +evening's adventure which were working very strongly in his mind. It was +borne in upon him irresistibly that he had been dead since he had seen +Helen,--as dead as the son of the Widow of Nain before the bier was +touched and he sat up and began to speak. There was an interval between +two conscious moments which appeared to him like a temporary +annihilation, and the thoughts it suggested were worrying him with +strange perplexities. + +He remembered seeing the dark figure on horseback rise in the saddle and +something leap from its hand. He remembered the thrill he felt as the +coil settled on his shoulders, and the sudden impulse which led him to +fire as he did. With the report of the pistol all became blank, until he +found himself in a strange, bewildered state, groping about for the +weapon, which he had a vague consciousness of having dropped. But, +according to Abel's account, there must have been an interval of some +minutes between these recollections, and he could not help asking, Where +was the mind, the soul, the thinking principle, all this time? + +A man is stunned by a blow with a stick on the head. He becomes +unconscious. Another man gets a harder blow on the head from a bigger +stick, and it kills him. Does he become unconscious, too? If so, when +does he come to his consciousness? The man who has had a slight or +moderate blow comes to himself when the immediate shock passes off and +the organs begin to work again, or when a bit of the skull is pried up, +if that happens to be broken. Suppose the blow is hard enough to spoil +the brain and stop the play of the organs, what happens them? + +A British captain was struck by a cannon-ball on the head, just as he was +giving an order, at the Battle of the Nile. Fifteen months afterwards he +was trephined at Greenwich Hospital, having been insensible all that +time. Immediately after the operation his consciousness returned, and he +at once began carrying out the order he was giving when the shot struck +him. Suppose he had never been trephined, when would his consciousness +have returned? When his breath ceased and his heart stopped beating? + +When Mr. Bernard said to Helen, "I have been dead since I saw you," it +startled her not a little; for his expression was that of perfect good +faith, and she feared that his mind was disordered. When he explained, +not as has been done just now, at length, but in a hurried, imperfect +way, the meaning of his strange assertion, and the fearful Sadduceeisms +which it had suggested to his mind, she looked troubled at first, and +then thoughtful. She did not feel able to answer all the difficulties he +raised, but she met them with that faith which is the strength as well as +the weakness of women,--which makes them weak in the hands of man, but +strong in the presence of the Unseen. + +"It is a strange experience," she said; "but I once had something like +it. I fainted, and lost some five or ten minutes out of my life, as much +as if I had been dead. But when I came to myself, I was the same person +every way, in my recollections and character. So I suppose that loss of +consciousness is not death. And if I was born out of unconsciousness +into infancy with many family-traits of mind and body, I can believe, +from my own reason, even without help from Revelation, that I shall be +born again out of the unconsciousness of death with my individual traits +of mind and body. If death is, as it should seem to be, a loss of +consciousness, that does not shake my faith; for I have been put into a +body once already to fit me for living here, and I hope to be in some way +fitted after this life to enjoy a better one. But it is all trust in God +and in his Word. These are enough for me; I hope they are for you." + +Helen was a minister's daughter, and familiar from her childhood with +this class of questions, especially with all the doubts and perplexities +which are sure to assail every thinking child bred in any inorganic or +not thoroughly vitalized faith,--as is too often the case with the +children of professional theologians. The kind of discipline they are +subjected to is like that of the Flat-Head Indian pappooses. At five or +ten or fifteen years old they put their hands up to their foreheads and +ask, What are they strapping down my brains in this way for? So they +tear off the sacred bandages of the great Flat-Head tribe, and there +follows a mighty rush of blood to the long-compressed region. This +accounts, in the most lucid manner, for those sudden freaks with which +certain children of this class astonish their worthy parents at the +period of life when they are growing fast, and, the frontal pressure +beginning to be felt as something intolerable, they tear off the holy +compresses. + +The hour for school came, and they went to the great hall for study. It +would not have occurred to Mr. Silas Peckham to ask his assistant whether +he felt well enough to attend to his duties; and Mr. Bernard chose to be +at his post. A little headache and confusion were all that remained of +his symptoms. + +Later, in the course of the forenoon, Elsie Venner came and took her +place. The girls all stared at her--naturally enough; for it was hardly +to have been expected that she would show herself, after such an event in +the household to which she belonged. Her expression was somewhat +peculiar, and, of course, was attributed to the shock her feelings had +undergone on hearing of the crime attempted by her cousin and daily +companion. When she was looking on her book, or on any indifferent +object, her countenance betrayed some inward disturbance, which knitted +her dark brows, and seemed to throw a deeper shadow over her features. +But, from time to time, she would lift her eyes toward Mr. Bernard, and +let them rest upon him, without a thought, seemingly, that she herself +was the subject of observation or remark. Then they seemed to lose their +cold glitter, and soften into a strange, dreamy tenderness. The deep +instincts of womanhood were striving to grope their way to the surface of +her being through all the alien influences which overlaid them. She +could be secret and cunning in working out any of her dangerous impulses, +but she did not know how to mask the unwonted feeling which fixed her +eyes and her thoughts upon the only person who had ever reached the +spring of her hidden sympathies. + +The girls all looked at Elsie, whenever they could steal a glance +unperceived, and many of them were struck with this singular expression +her features wore. They had long whispered it around among each other +that she had a liking for the master; but there were too many of them of +whom something like this could be said, to make it very remarkable. Now, +however, when so many little hearts were fluttering at the thought of the +peril through which the handsome young master had so recently passed, +they were more alive than ever to the supposed relation between him and +the dark school-girl. Some had supposed there was a mutual attachment +between them; there was a story that they were secretly betrothed, in +accordance with the rumor which had been current in the village. At any +rate, some conflict was going on in that still, remote, clouded soul, and +all the girls who looked upon her face were impressed and awed as they +had never been before by the shadows that passed over it. + +One of these girls was more strongly arrested by Elsie's look than the +others. This was a delicate, pallid creature, with a high forehead, and +wide-open pupils, which looked as if they could take in all the shapes +that flit in what, to common eyes, is darkness,--a girl said to be +clairvoyant under certain influences. In the recess, as it was called, +or interval of suspended studies in the middle of the forenoon, this girl +carried her autograph-book,--for she had one of those indispensable +appendages of the boarding-school miss of every degree,--and asked Elsie +to write her name in it. She had an irresistible feeling, that, sooner +or later, and perhaps very soon, there would attach an unusual interest +to this autograph. Elsie took the pen and wrote, in her sharp Italian +hand, + +Elsie Venner, Infelix. + +It was a remembrance, doubtless, of the forlorn queen of the "AEneid"; +but its coming to her thought in this way confirmed the sensitive +school-girl in her fears for Elsie, and she let fall a tear upon the page +before she closed it. + +Of course, the keen and practised observation of Helen Darley could not +fail to notice the change of Elsie's manner and expression. She had long +seen that she was attracted to the young master, and had thought, as the +old Doctor did, that any impression which acted upon her affections might +be the means of awakening a new life in her singularly isolated nature. +Now, however, the concentration of the poor girl's thoughts upon the one +object which had had power to reach her deeper sensibilities was so +painfully revealed in her features, that Helen began to fear once more, +lest Mr. Bernard, in escaping the treacherous violence of an assassin, +had been left to the equally dangerous consequences of a violent, +engrossing passion in the breast of a young creature whose love it would +be ruin to admit and might be deadly to reject. She knew her own heart +too well to fear that any jealousy might mingle with her new +apprehensions. It was understood between Bernard and Helen that they +were too good friends to tamper with the silences and edging proximities +of lovemaking. She knew, too, the simply human, not masculine, interest +which Mr. Bernard took in Elsie; he had been frank with Helen, and more +than satisfied her that with all the pity and sympathy which overflowed +his soul, when he thought of the stricken girl, there mingled not one +drop of such love as a youth may feel for a maiden. + +It may help the reader to gain some understanding of the anomalous nature +of Elsie Veneer, if we look with Helen into Mr. Bernard's opinions and +feelings with reference to her, as they had shaped themselves in his +consciousness at the period of which we are speaking. + +At first he had been impressed by her wild beauty, and the contrast of +all her looks and ways with those of the girls around her. Presently a +sense of some ill-defined personal element, which half-attracted and +half-repelled those who looked upon her, and especially those on whom she +looked, began to make itself obvious to him, as he soon found it was +painfully sensible to his more susceptible companion, the lady-teacher. +It was not merely in the cold light of her diamond eyes, but in all her +movements, in her graceful postures as she sat, in her costume, and, he +sometimes thought, even in her speech, that this obscure and exceptional +character betrayed itself. When Helen had said, that, if they were living +in times when human beings were subject to possession, she should have +thought there was something not human about Elsie, it struck an +unsuspected vein of thought in his own mind, which he hated to put in +words, but which was continually trying to articulate itself among the +dumb thoughts which lie under the perpetual stream of mental whispers. + +Mr. Bernard's professional training had made him slow to accept +marvellous stories and many forms of superstition. Yet, as a man of +science, he well knew that just on the verge of the demonstrable facts of +physics and physiology there is a nebulous border-land which what is +called "common sense" perhaps does wisely not to enter, but which +uncommon sense, or the fine apprehension of privileged intelligences, may +cautiously explore, and in so doing find itself behind the scenes which +make up for the gazing world the show which is called Nature. + +It was with something of this finer perception, perhaps with some degree +of imaginative exaltation, that he set himself to solving the problem of +Elsie's influence to attract and repel those around her. His letter +already submitted to the reader hints in what direction his thoughts were +disposed to turn. Here was a magnificent organization, superb in +vigorous womanhood, with a beauty such as never comes but after +generations of culture; yet through all this rich nature there ran some +alien current of influence, sinuous and dark, as when a clouded streak +seams the white marble of a perfect statue. + +It would be needless to repeat the particular suggestions which had come +into his mind, as they must probably have come into that of the reader +who has noted the singularities of Elsie's tastes and personal traits. +The images which certain poets had dreamed of seemed to have become a +reality before his own eyes. Then came that unexplained adventure of The +Mountain,--almost like a dream in recollection, yet assuredly real in +some of its main incidents,--with all that it revealed or hinted. This +girl did not fear to visit the dreaded region, where danger lurked in +every nook and beneath every tuft of leaves. Did the tenants of the +fatal ledge recognize some mysterious affinity which made them tributary +to the cold glitter of her diamond eyes? Was she from her birth one of +those frightful children, such as he had read about, and the Professor +had told him of, who form unnatural friendships with cold, writhing +ophidians? There was no need of so unwelcome a thought as this; she had +drawn him away from the dark opening in the rock at the moment when he +seemed to be threatened by one of its malignant denizens; that was all he +could be sure of; the counter-fascination might have been a dream, a +fancy, a coincidence. All wonderful things soon grow doubtful in our own +minds, as do even common events, if great interests prove suddenly to +attach to their truth or falsehood. + +--I, who am telling of these occurrences, saw a friend in the great city, +on the morning of a most memorable disaster, hours after the time when +the train which carried its victims to their doom had left. I talked with +him, and was for some minutes, at least, in his company. When I reached +home, I found that the story had gone before that he was among the lost, +and I alone could contradict it to his weeping friends and relatives. I +did contradict it; but, alas! I began soon to doubt myself, penetrated +by the contagion of their solicitude; my recollection began to question +itself; the order of events became dislocated; and when I heard that he +had reached home in safety, the relief was almost as great to me as to +those who had expected to see their own brother's face no more. + +Mr. Bernard was disposed, then, not to accept the thought of any odious +personal relationship of the kind which had suggested itself to him when +he wrote the letter referred to. That the girl had something of the +feral nature, her wild, lawless rambles in forbidden and blasted regions +of The Mountain at all hours, her familiarity with the lonely haunts +where any other human foot was so rarely seen, proved clearly enough. +But the more he thought of all her strange instincts and modes of being, +the more he became convinced that whatever alien impulse swayed her will +and modulated or diverted or displaced her affections came from some +impression that reached far back into the past, before the days when the +faithful Old Sophy had rocked her in the cradle. He believed that she +had brought her ruling tendency, whatever it was, into the world with +her. + +When the school was over and the girls had all gone, Helen lingered in +the schoolroom to speak with Mr. Bernard. + +"Did you remark Elsie's ways this forenoon?" she said. + +"No, not particularly; I have not noticed anything as sharply as I +commonly do; my head has been a little queer, and I have been thinking +over what we were talking about, and how near I came to solving the great +problem which every day makes clear to such multitudes of people. What +about Elsie?" + +"Bernard, her liking for you is growing into a passion. I have studied +girls for a long while, and I know the difference between their passing +fancies and their real emotions. I told you, you remember, that Rosa +would have to leave us; we barely missed a scene, I think, if not a whole +tragedy, by her going at the right moment. But Elsie is infinitely more +dangerous to herself and others. Women's love is fierce enough, if it +once gets the mastery of them, always; but this poor girl does not know +what to do with a passion." + +Mr. Bernard had never told Helen the story of the flower in his Virgil, +or that other adventure--which he would have felt awkwardly to refer to; +but it had been perfectly understood between them that Elsie showed in +her own singular way a well-marked partiality for the young master. + +"Why don't they take her away from the school, if she is in such a +strange, excitable state?" said Mr. Bernard. + +"I believe they are afraid of her," Helen answered. "It is just one of +those cases that are ten thousand thousand times worse than insanity. I +don't think from what I hear, that her father has ever given up hoping +that she will outgrow her peculiarities. Oh, these peculiar children for +whom parents go on hoping every morning and despairing every night! If I +could tell you half that mothers have told me, you would feel that the +worst of all diseases of the moral sense and the will are those which all +the Bedlams turn away from their doors as not being cases of insanity!" + +"Do you think her father has treated her judiciously?" said Mr. Bernard. + +"I think," said Helen, with a little hesitation, which Mr. Bernard did +not happen to notice,--"I think he has been very kind and indulgent, and +I do not know that he could have treated her otherwise with a better +chance of success." + +"He must of course be fond of her," Mr. Bernard said; "there is nothing +else in the world for him to love." + +Helen dropped a book she held in her hand, and, stooping to pick it up, +the blood rushed into her cheeks. + +"It is getting late," she said; "you must not stay any longer in this +close schoolroom. Pray, go and get a little fresh air before +dinner-time." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +A SOUL IN DISTRESS. + +The events told in the last two chapters had taken place toward the close +of the week. On Saturday evening the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather +received a note which was left at his door by an unknown person who +departed without saying a word. Its words were these: "One who is in +distress of mind requests the prayers of this congregation that God would +be pleased to look in mercy upon the soul that he has afflicted." + +There was nothing to show from whom the note came, or the sex or age or +special source of spiritual discomfort or anxiety of the writer. The +handwriting was delicate and might well be a woman's. The clergyman was +not aware of any particular affliction among his parishioners which was +likely to be made the subject of a request of this kind. Surely neither +of the Venners would advertise the attempted crime of their relative in +this way. But who else was there? The more he thought about it, the +more it puzzled him, and as he did not like to pray in the dark, without +knowing for whom he was praying, he could think of nothing better than to +step into old Doctor Kittredge's and see what he had to say about it. + +The old Doctor was sitting alone in his study when the Reverend Mr. +Fairweather was ushered in. He received his visitor very pleasantly, +expecting, as a matter of course, that he would begin with some new +grievance, dyspeptic, neuralgic, bronchitic, or other. The minister, +however, began with questioning the old Doctor about the sequel of the +other night's adventure; for he was already getting a little Jesuitical, +and kept back the object of his visit until it should come up as if +accidentally in the course of conversation. + +"It was a pretty bold thing to go off alone with that reprobate, as you +did," said the minister. + +"I don't know what there was bold about it," the Doctor answered. "All he +wanted was to get away. He was not quite a reprobate, you see; he didn't +like the thought of disgracing his family or facing his uncle. I think +he was ashamed to see his cousin, too, after what he had done." + +"Did he talk with you on the way?" + +"Not much. For half an hour or so he did n't speak a word. Then he +asked where I was driving him. I told him, and he seemed to be surprised +into a sort of grateful feeling. Bad enough, no doubt, but might be +worse. Has some humanity left in him yet. Let him go. God can judge +him,--I can't." + +"You are too charitable, Doctor," the minister said. "I condemn him just +as if he had carried out his project, which, they say, was to make it +appear as if the schoolmaster had committed suicide. That's what people +think the rope found by him was for. He has saved his neck,--but his +soul is a lost one, I am afraid, beyond question." + +"I can't judge men's souls," the Doctor said. "I can judge their acts, +and hold them responsible for those,--but I don't know much about their +souls. If you or I had found our soul in a half-breed body; and been +turned loose to run among the Indians, we might have been playing just +such tricks as this fellow has been trying. What if you or I had +inherited all the tendencies that were born with his cousin Elsie?" + +"Oh, that reminds me,"--the minister said, in a sudden way,--"I have +received a note, which I am requested to read from the pulpit tomorrow. +I wish you would just have the kindness to look at it and see where you +think it came from." + +The Doctor examined it carefully. It was a woman's or girl's note, he +thought. Might come from one of the school-girls who was anxious about +her spiritual condition. Handwriting was disguised; looked a little like +Elsie Veneer's, but not characteristic enough to make it certain. It +would be a new thing, if she had asked public prayers for herself, and a +very favorable indication of a change in her singular moral nature. It +was just possible Elsie might have sent that note. Nobody could foretell +her actions. It would be well to see the girl and find out whether any +unusual impression had been produced on her mind by the recent occurrence +or by any other cause. + +The Reverend Mr. Fairweather folded the note and put it into his pocket. + +"I have been a good deal exercised in mind lately, myself," he said. + +The old Doctor looked at him through his spectacles, and said, in his +usual professional tone, + +"Put out your tongue." + +The minister obeyed him in that feeble way common with persons of weak +character,--for people differ as much in their mode of performing this +trifling act as Gideon's soldiers in their way of drinking at the brook. +The Doctor took his hand and placed a finger mechanically on his wrist. + +"It is more spiritual, I think, than bodily," said the Reverend Mr. +Fairweather. + +"Is your appetite as good as usual?" the Doctor asked. + +"Pretty good," the minister answered; "but my sleep, my sleep, Doctor,--I +am greatly troubled at night with lying awake and thinking of my future, +I am not at ease in mind." + +He looked round at all the doors, to be sure they were shut, and moved +his chair up close to the Doctor's. + +"You do not know the mental trials I have been going through for the last +few months." + +"I think I do," the old Doctor said. "You want to get out of the new +church into the old one, don't you?" + +The minister blushed deeply; he thought he had been going on in a very +quiet way, and that nobody suspected his secret. As the old Doctor was +his counsellor in sickness, and almost everybody's confidant in trouble, +he had intended to impart cautiously to him some hints of the change of +sentiments through which he had been passing. He was too late with his +information, it appeared, and there was nothing to be done but to throw +himself on the Doctor's good sense and kindness, which everybody knew, +and get what hints he could from him as to the practical course he should +pursue. He began, after an awkward pause, + +"You would not have me stay in a communion which I feel to be alien to +the true church, would you?" + +"Have you stay, my friend?" said the Doctor, with a pleasant, friendly +look,--"have you stay? Not a month, nor a week, nor a day, if I could +help it. You have got into the wrong pulpit, and I have known it from +the first. The sooner you go where you belong, the better. And I'm very +glad you don't mean to stop half-way. Don't you know you've always come +to me when you've been dyspeptic or sick anyhow, and wanted to put +yourself wholly into my hands, so that I might order you like a child +just what to do and what to take? That 's exactly what you want in +religion. I don't blame you for it. You never liked to take the +responsibility of your own body; I don't see why you should want to have +the charge of your own soul. But I'm glad you're going to the Old Mother +of all. You wouldn't have been contented short of that." + +The Reverend Mr. Fairweather breathed with more freedom. The Doctor saw +into his soul through those awful spectacles of his,--into it and beyond +it, as one sees through a thin fog. But it was with a real human +kindness, after all. He felt like a child before a strong man; but the +strong man looked on him with a father's indulgence. Many and many a +time, when he had come desponding and bemoaning himself on account of +some contemptible bodily infirmity, the old Doctor had looked at him +through his spectacles, listened patiently while he told his ailments, +and then, in his large parental way, given him a few words of wholesome +advice, and cheered him up so that he went off with a light heart, +thinking that the heaven he was so much afraid of was not so very near, +after all. It was the same thing now. He felt, as feeble natures always +do in the presence of strong ones, overmastered, circumscribed, shut in, +humbled; but yet it seemed as if the old Doctor did not despise him any +more for what he considered weakness of mind than he used to despise him +when he complained of his nerves or his digestion. + +Men who see into their neighbors are very apt to be contemptuous; but men +who see through them find something lying behind every human soul which +it is not for them to sit in judgment on, or to attempt to sneer out of +the order of God's manifold universe. + +Little as the Doctor had said out of which comfort could be extracted, +his genial manner had something grateful in it. A film of gratitude came +over the poor man's cloudy, uncertain eye, and a look of tremulous relief +and satisfaction played about his weak mouth. He was gravitating to the +majority, where he hoped to find "rest"; but he was dreadfully sensitive +to the opinions of the minority he was on the point of leaving. + +The old Doctor saw plainly enough what was going on in his mind. + +"I sha'n't quarrel with you," he said,--"you know that very well; but you +mustn't quarrel with me, if I talk honestly with you; it isn't everybody +that will take the trouble. You flatter yourself that you will make a +good many enemies by leaving your old communion. Not so many as you +think. This is the way the common sort of people will talk:--'You have +got your ticket to the feast of life, as much as any other man that ever +lived. Protestantism says,--"Help yourself; here's a clean plate, and a +knife and fork of your own, and plenty of fresh dishes to choose from." +The Old Mother says,--"Give me your ticket, my dear, and I'll feed you +with my gold spoon off these beautiful old wooden trenchers. Such nice +bits as those good old gentlemen have left for you!" There is no +quarrelling with a man who prefers broken victuals. That's what the +rougher sort will say; and then, where one scolds, ten will laugh. But, +mind you, I don't either scold or laugh. I don't feel sure that you +could very well have helped doing what you will soon do. You know you +were never easy without some medicine to take when you felt ill in body. +I'm afraid I've given you trashy stuff sometimes, just to keep you quiet. +Now, let me tell you, there is just the same difference in spiritual +patients that there is in bodily ones. One set believes in wholesome +ways of living, and another must have a great list of specifics for all +the soul's complaints. You belong with the last, and got accidentally +shuffled in with the others." + +The minister smiled faintly, but did not reply. Of course, he considered +that way of talking as the result of the Doctor's professional training. +It would not have been worth while to take offence at his plain speech, +if he had been so disposed; for he might wish to consult him the next day +as to "what he should take" for his dyspepsia or his neuralgia. + +He left the Doctor with a hollow feeling at the bottom of his soul, as if +a good piece of his manhood had been scooped out of him. His hollow +aching did not explain itself in words, but it grumbled and worried down +among the unshaped thoughts which lie beneath them. He knew that he had +been trying to reason himself out of his birthright of reason. He knew +that the inspiration which gave him understanding was losing its throne +in his intelligence, and the almighty Majority-Vote was proclaiming +itself in its stead. He knew that the great primal truths, which each +successive revelation only confirmed, were fast becoming hidden beneath +the mechanical forms of thought, which, as with all new converts, +engrossed so large a share of his attention. The "peace," the "rest," +which he had purchased were dearly bought to one who had been trained to +the arms of thought, and whose noble privilege it might have been to live +in perpetual warfare for the advancing truth which the next generation +will claim as the legacy of the present. + +The Reverend Mr. Fairweather was getting careless about his sermons. He +must wait the fitting moment to declare himself; and in the mean time he +was preaching to heretics. It did not matter much what he preached, +under such circumstances. He pulled out two old yellow sermons from a +heap of such, and began looking over that for the forenoon. Naturally +enough, he fell asleep over it, and, sleeping, he began to dream. + +He dreamed that he was under the high arches of an old cathedral, amidst +a throng of worshippers. The light streamed in through vast windows, +dark with the purple robes of royal saints, or blazing with yellow +glories around the heads of earthly martyrs and heavenly messengers. The +billows of the great organ roared among the clustered columns, as the sea +breaks amidst the basaltic pillars which crowd the stormy cavern of the +Hebrides. The voice of the alternate choirs of singing boys swung back +and forward, as the silver censer swung in the hands of the white-robed +children. The sweet cloud of incense rose in soft, fleecy mists, full of +penetrating suggestions of the East and its perfumed altars. The knees +of twenty generations had worn the pavement; their feet had hollowed the +steps; their shoulders had smoothed the columns. Dead bishops and abbots +lay under the marble of the floor in their crumbled vestments; dead +warriors, in rusted armor, were stretched beneath their sculptured +effigies. And all at once all the buried multitudes who had ever +worshipped there came thronging in through the aisles. They choked every +space, they swarmed into all the chapels, they hung in clusters over the +parapets of the galleries, they clung to the images in every niche, and +still the vast throng kept flowing and flowing in, until the living were +lost in the rush of the returning dead who had reclaimed their own. +Then, as his dream became more fantastic, the huge cathedral itself +seemed to change into the wreck of some mighty antediluvian vertebrate; +its flying-buttresses arched round like ribs, its piers shaped themselves +into limbs, and the sound of the organ-blast changed to the wind +whistling through its thousand-jointed skeleton. + +And presently the sound lulled, and softened and softened, until it was +as the murmur of a distant swarm of bees. A procession of monks wound +along through an old street, chanting, as they walked. In his dream he +glided in among them and bore his part in the burden of their song. He +entered with the long train under a low arch, and presently he was +kneeling in a narrow cell before an image of the Blessed Maiden holding +the Divine Child in her arms, and his lips seemed to whisper, + + Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis! + +He turned to the crucifix, and, prostrating himself before the spare, +agonizing shape of the Holy Sufferer, fell into a long passion of tears +and broken prayers. He rose and flung himself, worn-out, upon his hard +pallet, and, seeming to slumber, dreamed again within his dream. Once +more in the vast cathedral, with throngs of the living choking its +aisles, amidst jubilant peals from the cavernous depths of the great +organ, and choral melodies ringing from the fluty throats of the singing +boys. A day of great rejoicings,--for a prelate was to be consecrated, +and the bones of the mighty skeleton-minster were shaking with anthems, +as if there were life of its own within its buttressed ribs. He looked +down at his feet; the folds of the sacred robe were flowing about them: +he put his hand to his head; it was crowned with the holy mitre. A long +sigh, as of perfect content in the consummation of all his earthly hopes, +breathed through the dreamer's lips, and shaped itself, as it escaped, +into the blissful murmur, + + Ego sum Episcopus! + +One grinning gargoyle looked in from beneath the roof through an opening +in a stained window. It was the face of a mocking fiend, such as the old +builders loved to place under the eaves to spout the rain through their +open mouths. It looked at him, as he sat in his mitred chair, with its +hideous grin growing broader and broader, until it laughed out aloud, +such a hard, stony, mocking laugh, that he awoke out of his second dream +through his first into his common consciousness, and shivered, as he +turned to the two yellow sermons which he was to pick over and weed of +the little thought they might contain, for the next day's service. + +The Reverend Chauncy Fairweather was too much taken up with his own +bodily and spiritual condition to be deeply mindful of others. He +carried the note requesting the prayers of the congregation in his pocket +all day; and the soul in distress, which a single tender petition might +have soothed, and perhaps have saved from despair or fatal error, found +no voice in the temple to plead for it before the Throne of Mercy! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +THE SECRET IS WHISPERED. + +The Reverend Chauncy Fairweather's congregation was not large, but +select. The lines of social cleavage run through religious creeds as if +they were of a piece with position and fortune. It is expected of +persons of a certain breeding, in some parts of New England, that they +shall be either Episcopalians or Unitarians. The mansion-house gentry of +Rockland were pretty fairly divided between the little chapel, with the +stained window and the trained rector, and the meeting-house where the +Reverend Mr. Fairweather officiated. + +It was in the latter that Dudley Venner worshipped, when he attended +service anywhere,--which depended very much on the caprice of Elsie. He +saw plainly enough that a generous and liberally cultivated nature might +find a refuge and congenial souls in either of these two persuasions, but +he objected to some points of the formal creed of the older church, and +especially to the mechanism which renders it hard to get free from its +outworn and offensive formulae,--remembering how Archbishop Tillotson +wished in vain that it could be "well rid of" the Athanasian Creed. +This, and the fact that the meeting-house was nearer than the chapel, +determined him, when the new rector, who was not quite up to his mark in +education, was appointed, to take a pew in the "liberal" worshippers' +edifice. + +Elsie was very uncertain in her feeling about going to church. In +summer, she loved rather to stroll over The Mountain, on Sundays. There +was even a story, that she had one of the caves before mentioned fitted +up as an oratory, and that she had her own wild way of worshipping the +God whom she sought in the dark chasms of the dreaded cliffs. Mere +fables, doubtless; but they showed the common belief, that Elsie, with +all her strange and dangerous elements of character, had yet strong +religious feeling mingled with them. The hymn-book which Dick had found, +in his midnight invasion of her chamber, opened to favorite hymns, +especially some of the Methodist and Quietist character. Many had +noticed, that certain tunes, as sung by the choir, seemed to impress her +deeply; and some said, that at such times her whole expression would +change, and her stormy look would soften so as to remind them of her +poor, sweet mother. + +On the Sunday morning after the talk recorded in the last chapter, Elsie +made herself ready to go to meeting. She was dressed much as usual, +excepting that she wore a thick veil, turned aside, but ready to conceal +her features. It was natural enough that she should not wish to be +looked in the face by curious persons who would be staring to see what +effect the occurrence of the past week had had on her spirits. Her +father attended her willingly; and they took their seats in the pew, +somewhat to the surprise of many, who had hardly expected to see them, +after so humiliating a family development as the attempted crime of their +kinsman had just been furnishing for the astonishment of the public. + +The Reverend Mr. Fairweather was now in his coldest mood. He had passed +through the period of feverish excitement which marks a change of +religious opinion. At first, when he had began to doubt his own +theological positions, he had defended them against himself with more +ingenuity and interest, perhaps, than he could have done against another; +because men rarely take the trouble to understand anybody's difficulties +in a question but their own. After this, as he began to draw off from +different points of his old belief, the cautious disentangling of himself +from one mesh after another gave sharpness to his intellect, and the +tremulous eagerness with which he seized upon the doctrine which, piece +by piece, under various pretexts and with various disguises, he was +appropriating, gave interest and something like passion to his words. +But when he had gradually accustomed his people to his new phraseology, +and was really adjusting his sermons and his service to disguise his +thoughts, he lost at once all his intellectual acuteness and all his +spiritual fervor. + +Elsie sat quietly through the first part of the service, which was +conducted in the cold, mechanical way to be expected. Her face was +hidden by her veil; but her father knew her state of feeling, as well by +her movements and attitudes as by the expression of her features. The +hymn had been sung, the short prayer offered, the Bible read, and the +long prayer was about to begin. This was the time at which the "notes" +of any who were in affliction from loss of friends, the sick who were +doubtful of recovery, those who had cause to be grateful for preservation +of life or other signal blessing, were wont to be read. + +Just then it was that Dudley Veneer noticed that his daughter was +trembling,--a thing so rare, so unaccountable, indeed, under the +circumstances, that he watched her closely, and began to fear that some +nervous paroxysm, or other malady, might have just begun to show itself +in this way upon her. + +The minister had in his pocket two notes. One, in the handwriting of +Deacon Soper, was from a member of this congregation, returning thanks +for his preservation through a season of great peril, supposed to be the +exposure which he had shared with others, when standing in the circle +around Dick Veneer. The other was the anonymous one, in a female hand, +which he had received the evening before. He forgot them both. His +thoughts were altogether too much taken up with more important matters. +He prayed through all the frozen petitions of his expurgated form of +supplication, and not a single heart was soothed or lifted, or reminded +that its sorrows were struggling their way up to heaven, borne on the +breath from a human soul that was warm with love. + +The people sat down as if relieved when the dreary prayer was finished. +Elsie alone remained standing until her father touched her. Then she sat +down, lifted her veil, and looked at him with a blank, sad look, as if +she had suffered some pain or wrong, but could not give any name or +expression to her vague trouble. She did not tremble any longer, but +remained ominously still, as if she had been frozen where she sat. + +--Can a man love his own soul too well? Who, on the whole, constitute +the nobler class of human beings? those who have lived mainly to make +sure of their own personal welfare in another and future condition of +existence, or they who have worked with all their might for their race, +for their country, for the advancement of the kingdom of God, and left +all personal arrangements concerning themselves to the sole charge of Him +who made them and is responsible to himself for their safe-keeping? Is +an anchorite who has worn the stone floor of his cell into basins with +his knees bent in prayer, more acceptable than the soldier who gives his +life for the maintenance of any sacred right or truth, without thinking +what will specially become of him in a world where there are two or three +million colonists a month, from this one planet, to be cared for? These +are grave questions, which must suggest themselves to those who know that +there are many profoundly selfish persons who are sincerely devout and +perpetually occupied with their own future, while there are others who +are perfectly ready to sacrifice themselves for any worthy object in this +world, but are really too little occupied with their exclusive +personality to think so much as many do about what is to become of them +in another. + +The Reverend Chauncy Fairweather did not, most certainly, belong to this +latter class. There are several kinds of believers, whose history we +find among the early converts to Christianity. + +There was the magistrate, whose social position was such that he +preferred a private interview in the evening with the Teacher to +following him--with the street-crowd. He had seen extraordinary facts +which had satisfied him that the young Galilean had a divine commission. +But still he cross-questioned the Teacher himself. He was not ready to +accept statements without explanation. That was the right kind of man. +See how he stood up for the legal rights of his Master, when the people +were for laying hands on him! + +And again, there was the government official, intrusted with public +money, which, in those days, implied that he was supposed to be honest. +A single look of that heavenly countenance, and two words of gentle +command, were enough for him. Neither of these men, the early disciple, +nor the evangelist, seems to have been thinking primarily about his own +personal safety. + +But now look at the poor, miserable turnkey, whose occupation shows what +he was like to be, and who had just been thrusting two respectable +strangers, taken from the hands of a mob, covered with stripes and +stripped of clothing, into the inner prison, and making their feet fast +in the stocks. His thought, in the moment of terror, is for himself: +first, suicide; then, what he shall do,--not to save his household,--not +to fulfil his duty to his office,--not to repair the outrage he has been +committing,--but to secure his own personal safety. Truly, character +shows itself as much in a man's way of becoming a Christian as in any +other! + +--Elsie sat, statue-like, through the sermon. It would not be fair to +the reader to give an abstract of that. When a man who has been bred to +free thought and free speech suddenly finds himself stepping about, like +a dancer amidst his eggs, among the old addled majority-votes which he +must not tread upon, he is a spectacle for men and angels. Submission to +intellectual precedent and authority does very well for those who have +been bred to it; we know that the underground courses of their minds are +laid in the Roman cement of tradition, and that stately and splendid +structures may be reared on such a foundation. But to see one laying a +platform over heretical quicksands, thirty or forty or fifty years deep, +and then beginning to build upon it, is a sorry sight. A new convert +from the reformed to the ancient faith may be very strong in the arms, +but he will always have weak legs and shaky knees. He may use his hands +well, and hit hard with his fists, but he will never stand on his legs in +the way the man does who inherits his belief. + +The services were over at last, and Dudley Venner and his daughter walked +home together in silence. He always respected her moods, and saw clearly +enough that some inward trouble was weighing upon her. There was nothing +to be said in such cases, for Elsie could never talk of her griefs. An +hour, or a day, or a week of brooding, with perhaps a sudden flash of +violence: this was the way in which the impressions which make other +women weep, and tell their griefs by word or letter, showed their effects +in her mind and acts. + +She wandered off up into the remoter parts of The Mountain, that day, +after their return. No one saw just where she went,--indeed, no one knew +its forest-recesses and rocky fastnesses as she did. She was gone until +late at night; and when Old Sophy, who had watched for her, bound up her +long hair for her sleep, it was damp with the cold dews. + +The old black woman looked at her without speaking, but questioning her +with every feature as to the sorrow that was weighing on her. + +Suddenly she turned to Old Sophy. + +"You want to know what there is troubling me;" she said. "Nobody loves +me. I cannot love anybody. What is love, Sophy?" + +"It's what poor Ol' Sophy's got for her Elsie," the old woman answered. +"Tell me, darlin',--don' you love somebody?--don' you love? you +know,--oh, tell me, darlin', don' you love to see the gen'l'man that +keeps up at the school where you go? They say he's the pootiest +gen'l'man that was ever in the town here. Don' be 'fraid of poor Ol' +Sophy, darlin',--she loved a man once,--see here! Oh, I've showed you +this often enough!" + +She took from her pocket a half of one of the old Spanish silver coins, +such as were current in the earlier part of this century. The other half +of it had been lying in the deep sea-sand for more than fifty years. + +Elsie looked her in the face, but did not answer in words. What strange +intelligence was that which passed between them through the diamond eyes +and the little beady black ones?--what subtile intercommunication, +penetrating so much deeper than articulate speech? This was the nearest +approach to sympathetic relations that Elsie ever had: a kind of dumb +intercourse of feeling, such as one sees in the eyes of brute mothers +looking on their young. But, subtile as it was, it was narrow and +individual; whereas an emotion which can shape itself in language opens +the gate for itself into the great community of human affections; for +every word we speak is the medal of a dead thought or feeling, struck in +the die of some human experience, worn smooth by innumerable contacts, +and always transferred warm from one to another. By words we share the +common consciousness of the race, which has shaped itself in these +symbols. By music we reach those special states of consciousness which, +being without form, cannot be shaped with the mosaics of the vocabulary. +The language of the eyes runs deeper into the personal nature, but it is +purely individual, and perishes in the expression. + +If we consider them all as growing out of the consciousness as their +root, language is the leaf, music is the flower; but when the eyes meet +and search each other, it is the uncovering of the blanched stem through +which the whole life runs, but which has never taken color or form from +the sunlight. + +For three days Elsie did not return to the school. Much of the time she +was among the woods and rocks. The season was now beginning to wane, and +the forest to put on its autumnal glory. The dreamy haze was beginning +to soften the landscape, and the mast delicious days of the year were +lending their attraction to the scenery of The Mountain. It was not very +singular that Elsie should be lingering in her old haunts, from which the +change of season must soon drive her. But Old Sophy saw clearly enough +that some internal conflict was going on, and knew very well that it must +have its own way and work itself out as it best could. As much as looks +could tell Elsie had told her. She had said in words, to be sure, that +she could not love. Something warped and thwarted the emotion which +would have been love in another, no doubt; but that such an emotion was +striving with her against all malign influences which interfered with it +the old woman had a perfect certainty in her own mind. + +Everybody who has observed the working of emotions in persons of various +temperaments knows well enough that they have periods of incubation, +which differ with the individual, and with the particular cause and +degree of excitement, yet evidently go through a strictly self-limited +series of evolutions, at the end of which, their result--an act of +violence, a paroxysm of tears, a gradual subsidence into repose, or +whatever it may be--declares itself, like the last stage of an attack of +fever and ague. No one can observe children without noticing that there +is a personal equation, to use the astronomer's language, in their +tempers, so that one sulks an hour over an offence which makes another a +fury for five minutes, and leaves him or her an angel when it is over. + +At the end of three days, Elsie braided her long, glossy, black hair, and +shot a golden arrow through it. She dressed herself with more than usual +care, and came down in the morning superb in her stormy beauty. The +brooding paroxysm was over, or at least her passion had changed its +phase. Her father saw it with great relief; he had always many fears for +her in her hours and days of gloom, but, for reasons before assigned, had +felt that she must be trusted to herself, without appealing to actual +restraint, or any other supervision than such as Old Sophy could exercise +without offence. + +She went off at the accustomed hour to the school. All the girls had +their eyes on her. None so keen as these young misses to know an inward +movement by an outward sign of adornment: if they have not as many +signals as the ships that sail the great seas, there is not an end of +ribbon or a turn of a ringlet which is not a hieroglyphic with a hidden +meaning to these little cruisers over the ocean of sentiment. + +The girls all looked at Elsie with a new thought; for she was more +sumptuously arrayed than perhaps ever before at the school; and they said +to themselves that she had come meaning to draw the young master's eyes +upon her. That was it; what else could it be? The beautiful cold girl +with the diamond eyes meant to dazzle the handsome young gentleman. He +would be afraid to love her; it couldn't be true, that which some people +had said in the village; she was n't the kind of young lady to make Mr. +Langdon happy. Those dark people are never safe: so one of the young +blondes said to herself. Elsie was not literary enough for such a +scholar: so thought Miss Charlotte Ann Wood, the young poetess. She +couldn't have a good temper, with those scowling eyebrows: this was the +opinion of several broad-faced, smiling girls, who thought, each in her +own snug little mental sanctum, that, if, etc., etc., she could make him +so happy! + +Elsie had none of the still, wicked light in her eyes, that morning. She +looked gentle, but dreamy; played with her books; did not trouble herself +with any of the exercises,--which in itself was not very remarkable, as +she was always allowed, under some pretext or other, to have her own way. + +The school-hours were over at length. The girls went out, but she +lingered to the last. She then came up to Mr. Bernard, with a book in +her hand, as if to ask a question. + +"Will you walk towards my home with me today?" she said, in a very low +voice, little more than a whisper. + +Mr. Bernard was startled by the request, put in such a way. He had a +presentiment of some painful scene or other. But there was nothing to be +done but to assure her that it would give him great pleasure. + +So they walked along together on their way toward the Dudley mansion. + +"I have no friend," Elsie said, all at once. "Nothing loves me but one +old woman. I cannot love anybody. They tell me there is something in my +eyes that draws people to me and makes them faint: Look into them, will +you?" + +She turned her face toward him. It was very pale, and the diamond eyes +were glittering with a film, such as beneath other lids would have +rounded into a tear. + +"Beautiful eyes, Elsie," he said,--"sometimes very piercing,--but soft +now, and looking as if there were something beneath them that friendship +might draw out. I am your friend, Elsie. Tell me what I can do to +render your life happier." + +"Love me!" said Elsie Venner. + +What shall a man do, when a woman makes such a demand, involving such an +avowal? It was the tenderest, cruellest, humblest moment of Mr. +Bernard's life. He turned pale, he trembled almost, as if he had been a +woman listening to her lover's declaration. + +"Elsie," he said, presently, "I so long to be of some use to you, to have +your confidence and sympathy, that I must not let you say or do anything +to put us in false relations. I do love you, Elsie, as a suffering +sister with sorrows of her own,--as one whom I would save at the risk of +my happiness and life,--as one who needs a true friend more than--any of +all the young girls I have known. More than this you would not ask me to +say. You have been through excitement and trouble lately, and it has +made you feel such a need more than ever. Give me your hand, dear Elsie, +and trust me that I will be as true a friend to you as if we were +children of the same mother." + +Elsie gave him her hand mechanically. It seemed to him that a cold aura +shot from it along his arm and chilled the blood running through his +heart. He pressed it gently, looked at her with a face full of grave +kindness and sad interest, then softly relinquished it. + +It was all over with poor Elsie. They walked almost in silence the rest +of the way. Mr. Bernard left her at the gate of the mansion-house, and +returned with sad forebodings. Elsie went at once to her own room, and +did not come from it at the usual hours. At last Old Sophy began to be +alarmed about her, went to her apartment, and, finding the door unlocked, +entered cautiously. She found Elsie lying on her bed, her brows strongly +contracted, her eyes dull, her whole look that of great suffering. Her +first thought was that she had been doing herself a harm by some deadly +means or other. But Elsie, saw her fear, and reassured her. + +"No," she said, "there is nothing wrong, such as you are thinking of; I +am not dying. You may send for the Doctor; perhaps he can take the pain +from my head. That is all I want him to do. There is no use in the +pain, that I know of; if he can stop it, let him." + +So they sent for the old Doctor. It was not long before the solid trot +of Caustic, the old bay horse, and the crashing of the gravel under the +wheels, gave notice that the physician was driving up the avenue. + +The old Doctor was a model for visiting practitioners. He always came +into the sick-room with a quiet, cheerful look, as if he had a +consciousness that he was bringing some sure relief with him. The way a +patient snatches his first look at his doctor's face, to see whether he +is doomed, whether he is reprieved, whether he is unconditionally +pardoned, has really something terrible about it. It is only to be met +by an imperturbable mask of serenity, proof against anything and +everything in a patient's aspect. The physician whose face reflects his +patient's condition like a mirror may do well enough to examine people +for a life-insurance office, but does not belong to the sickroom. The +old Doctor did not keep people waiting in dread suspense, while he stayed +talking about the case,--the patient all the time thinking that he and +the friends are discussing some alarming symptom or formidable operation +which he himself is by-and-by--to hear of. + +He was in Elsie's room almost before she knew he was in the house. He +came to her bedside in such a natural, quiet way, that it seemed as if he +were only a friend who had dropped in for a moment to say a pleasant +word. Yet he was very uneasy about Elsie until he had seen her; he never +knew what might happen to her or those about her, and came prepared for +the worst. + +"Sick, my child?" he said, in a very soft, low voice. + +Elsie nodded, without speaking. + +The Doctor took her hand,--whether with professional views, or only in a +friendly way, it would have been hard to tell. So he sat a few minutes, +looking at her all the time with a kind of fatherly interest, but with it +all noting how she lay, how she breathed, her color, her expression, all +that teaches the practised eye so much without a single question being +asked. He saw she was in suffering, and said presently, + +"You have pain somewhere; where is it?" + +She put her hand to her head. + +As she was not disposed to talk, he watched her for a while, questioned +Old Sophy shrewdly a few minutes, and so made up his mind as to the +probable cause of disturbance and the proper remedies to be used. + +Some very silly people thought the old Doctor did not believe in +medicine, because he gave less than certain poor half-taught creatures in +the smaller neighboring towns, who took advantage of people's sickness to +disgust and disturb them with all manner of ill-smelling and ill-behaving +drugs. In truth, he hated to give anything noxious or loathsome to those +who were uncomfortable enough already, unless he was very sure it would +do good,--in which case, he never played with drugs, but gave good, +honest, efficient doses. Sometimes he lost a family of the more boorish +sort, because they did not think they got their money's worth out of him, +unless they had something more than a taste of everything he carried in +his saddlebags. + +He ordered some remedies which he thought would relieve Elsie, and left +her, saying he would call the next day, hoping to find her better. But +the next day came, and the next, and still Elsie was on her bed, +feverish, restless, wakeful, silent. At night she tossed about and +wandered, and it became at length apparent that there was a settled +attack, something like what they called, formerly, a "nervous fever." + +On the fourth day she was more restless than common. One of the women of +the house came in to help to take care of her; but she showed an aversion +to her presence. + +"Send me Helen Darley," she said, at last. + +The old Doctor told them, that, if possible, they must indulge this fancy +of hers. The caprices of sick people were never to be despised, least of +all of such persons as Elsie, when rendered irritable and exacting by +pain and weakness. + +So a message was sent to Mr. Silas Peckham at the Apollinean Institute, +to know if he could not spare Miss Helen Darley for a few days, if +required, to give her attention to a young lady who attended his school +and who was now lying ill,--no other person than the daughter of Dudley +Venner. + +A mean man never agrees to anything without deliberately turning it over, +so that he may see its dirty side, and, if he can, sweating the coin he +pays for it. If an archangel should offer to save his soul for sixpence, +he would try to find a sixpence with a hole in it. A gentleman says yes +to a great many things without stopping to think: a shabby fellow is +known by his caution in answering questions, for fear of, compromising +his pocket or himself. + +Mr. Silas Peckham looked very grave at the request. The dooties of Miss +Darley at the Institoot were important, very important. He paid her +large sums of money for her time,--more than she could expect to get in +any other institootion for the edoocation of female youth. A deduction +from her selary would be necessary, in case she should retire from the +sphere of her dooties for a season. He should be put to extry expense, +and have to perform additional labors himself. He would consider of the +matter. If any arrangement could be made, he would send word to Squire +Venner's folks. + +"Miss Darley," said Silas Peckham, "the' 's a message from Squire +Venner's that his daughter wants you down at the mansion-house to see +her. She's got a fever, so they inform me. If it's any kind of ketchin' +fever, of course you won't think of goin' near the mansion-house. If +Doctor Kittredge says it's safe, perfec'ly safe, I can't object to your +goin', on sech conditions as seem to be fair to all' concerned. You will +give up your pay for the whole time you are absent,--portions of days to +be caounted as whole days. You will be charged with board the same as if +you eat your victuals with the household. The victuals are of no use +after they're cooked but to be eat, and your bein' away is no savin' to +our folks. I shall charge you a reasonable compensation for the demage +to the school by the absence of a teacher. If Miss Crabs undertakes any +dooties belongin' to your department of instruction, she will look to you +for sech pecooniary considerations as you may agree upon between you. On +these conditions I am willin' to give my consent to your temporary +absence from the post of dooty. I will step down to Doctor Kittredge's +myself, and make inquiries as to the natur' of the complaint." + +Mr. Peckham took up a rusty and very narrow-brimmed hat, which he cocked +upon one side of his head, with an air peculiar to the rural gentry. It +was the hour when the Doctor expected to be in his office, unless he had +some special call which kept him from home. + +He found the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather just taking leave of the +Doctor. His hand was on the pit of his stomach, and his countenance was +expressive of inward uneasiness. + +"Shake it before using," said the Doctor; "and the sooner you make up +your mind to speak right out, the better it will be for your digestion." + +"Oh, Mr. Peckham! Walk in, Mr. Peckham! Nobody sick up at the school, I +hope?" + +"The haalth of the school is fust-rate," replied Mr. Peckham. "The +sitooation is uncommonly favorable to saloobrity." (These last words +were from the Annual Report of the past year.) "Providence has spared our +female youth in a remarkable measure. I've come with reference to +another consideration. Dr. Kittredge, is there any ketchin' complaint +goin' about in the village?" + +"Well, yes," said the Doctor, "I should say there was something of that +sort. Measles. Mumps. And Sin,--that's always catching." + +The old Doctor's eye twinkled; once in a while he had his little touch of +humor. + +Silas Peckham slanted his eye up suspiciously at the Doctor, as if he was +getting some kind of advantage over him. That is the way people of his +constitution are apt to take a bit of pleasantry. + +"I don't mean sech things, Doctor; I mean fevers. Is there any ketchin' +fevers--bilious, or nervous, or typus, or whatever you call 'em--now +goin' round this village? That's what I want to ascertain, if there's no +impropriety." + +The old Doctor looked at Silas through his spectacles. + +"Hard and sour as a green cider-apple," he thought to himself. "No,"; he +said,--"I don't know any such cases." + +"What's the matter with Elsie Venner?" asked Silas, sharply, as if he +expected to have him this time. + +"A mild feverish attack, I should call it in anybody else; but she has a +peculiar constitution, and I never feel so safe about her as I should +about most people." + +"Anything ketchin' about it?" Silas asked, cunningly. + +"No, indeed!" said the Doctor,--"catching? no,--what put that into your +head, Mr. Peckham?" + +"Well, Doctor," the conscientious Principal answered, "I naterally feel a +graat responsibility, a very graaat responsibility, for the noomerous and +lovely young ladies committed to my charge. It has been a question, +whether one of my assistants should go, accordin' to request, to stop +with Miss Venner for a season. Nothin' restrains my givin' my full and +free consent to her goin' but the fear lest contagious maladies should be +introdooced among those lovely female youth. I shall abide by your +opinion,--I understan' you to say distinc'ly, her complaint is not +ketchin'?--and urge upon Miss Darley to fulfil her dooties to a +sufferin' fellow-creature at any cost to myself and my establishment. We +shall miss her very much; but it is a good cause, and she shall go,--and +I shall trust that Providence will enable us to spare her without +permanent demage to the interests of the Institootion." + +Saying this, the excellent Principal departed, with his rusty +narrow-brimmed hat leaning over, as if it had a six-knot breeze abeam, +and its gunwale (so to speak) was dipping into his coat-collar. He +announced the result of his inquiries to Helen, who had received a brief +note in the mean time from a poor relation of Elsie's mother, then at the +mansion-house, informing her of the critical situation of Elsie and of +her urgent desire that Helen should be with her. She could not hesitate. +She blushed as she thought of the comments that might be made; but what +were such considerations in a matter of life and death? She could not +stop to make terms with Silas Peckham. She must go. He might fleece +her, if he would; she would not complain,--not even to Bernard, who, she +knew, would bring the Principal to terms, if she gave the least hint of +his intended extortions. + +So Helen made up her bundle of clothes to be sent after her, took a book +or two with her to help her pass the time, and departed for the Dudley +mansion. It was with a great inward effort that she undertook the +sisterly task which was thus forced upon her. She had a kind of terror +of Elsie; and the thought of having charge of her, of being alone with +her, of coming under the full influence of those diamond eyes,--if, +indeed, their light were not dimmed by suffering and weariness,--was one +she shrank from. But what could she do? It might be a turning-point in +the life of the poor girl; and she must overcome all her fears, all her +repugnance, and go to her rescue. + +"Is Helen come?" said Elsie, when she heard, with her fine sense +quickened by the irritability of sickness, a light footfall on the stair, +with a cadence unlike that of any inmate of the house. + +"It's a strange woman's step," said Old Sophy, who, with her exclusive +love for Elsie, was naturally disposed to jealousy of a new-comer. "Let +Ol' Sophy set at 'th' foot o' th' bed, if th' young missis sets by th' +piller,--won' y', darlin'? The' 's nobody that's white can love y' as +th' of black woman does;--don' sen' her away, now, there 's a dear soul!" + +Elsie motioned her to sit in the place she had pointed to, and Helen at +that moment entered the room. Dudley Venner followed her. + +"She is your patient," he said, "except while the Doctor is here. She has +been longing to have you with her, and we shall expect you to make her +well in a few days." + +So Helen Darley found herself established in the most unexpected manner +as an inmate of the Dudley mansion. She sat with Elsie most of the time, +by day and by night, soothing her, and trying to enter into her +confidence and affections, if it should prove that this strange creature +was really capable of truly sympathetic emotions. + +What was this unexplained something which came between her soul and that +of every other human being with whom she was in relations? Helen +perceived, or rather felt, that she had, folded up in the depths of her +being, a true womanly nature. Through the cloud that darkened her +aspect, now and then a ray would steal forth, which, like the smile of +stern and solemn people, was all the more impressive from its contrast +with the expression she wore habitually. It might well be that pain and +fatigue had changed her aspect; but, at any rate, Helen looked into her +eyes without that nervous agitation which their cold glitter had produced +on her when they were full of their natural light. She felt sure that +her mother must have been a lovely, gentle woman. There were gleams of a +beautiful nature shining through some ill-defined medium which disturbed +and made them flicker and waver, as distant images do when seen through +the rippling upward currents of heated air. She loved, in her own way, +the old black woman, and seemed to keep up a kind of silent communication +with her, as if they did not require the use of speech. She appeared to +be tranquillized by the presence of Helen, and loved to have her seated +at the bedside. Yet something, whatever it was, prevented her from +opening her heart to her kind companion; and even now there were times +when she would lie looking at her, with such a still, watchful, almost +dangerous expression, that Helen would sigh, and change her place, as +persons do whose breath some cunning orator had been sucking out of them +with his spongy eloquence, so that, when he stops, they must get some air +and stir about, or they feel as if they should be half smothered and +palsied. + +It was too much to keep guessing what was the meaning of all this. Helen +determined to ask Old Sophy some questions which might probably throw +light upon her doubts. She took the opportunity one evening when Elsie +was lying asleep and they were both sitting at some distance from her +bed. + +"Tell me, Sophy," she said, "was Elsie always as shy as she seems to be +now, in talking with those to whom she is friendly?" + +"Alway jes' so, Miss Darlin', ever sense she was little chil'. When she +was five, six year old, she lisp some,--call me Thophy; that make her +kin' o' 'shamed, perhaps: after she grow up, she never lisp, but she kin' +o' got the way o' not talkin' much. Fac' is, she don' like talkin' as +common gals do, 'xcep' jes' once in a while wi' some partic'lar +folks,--'n' then not much." + +"How old is Elsie?" + +"Eighteen year this las' September." + +"How long ago did her mother die?" Helen asked, with a little trembling +in her voice. + +"Eighteen year ago this October," said Old Sophy. + +Helen was silent for a moment. Then she whispered, almost +inaudibly,--for her voice appeared to fail her, + +"What did her mother die of, Sophy?" + +The old woman's small eyes dilated until a ring of white showed round +their beady centres. She caught Helen by the hand and clung to it, as if +in fear. She looked round at Elsie, who lay sleeping, as of she might be +listening. Then she drew Helen towards her and led her softly out of the +room. + +"'Sh!--'sh!" she said, as soon as they were outside the door. "Don' +never speak in this house 'bout what Elsie's mother died of!" she said. +"Nobody never says nothin' 'bout it. Oh, God has made Ugly Things wi' +death in their mouths, Miss Darlin', an' He knows what they're for; but +my poor Elsie!--to have her blood changed in her before--It was in July +Mistress got her death, but she liv' till three week after my poor Elsie +was born." + +She could speak no more. She had said enough. Helen remembered the +stories she had heard on coming to the village, and among them one +referred to in an early chapter of this narrative. All the unaccountable +looks and tastes and ways of Elsie came back to her in the light of an +ante-natal impression which had mingled an alien element in her nature. +She knew the secret of the fascination which looked out of her cold, +glittering eyes. She knew the significance of the strange repulsion +which she felt in her own intimate consciousness underlying the +inexplicable attraction which drew her towards the young girl in spite of +this repugnance. She began to look with new feelings on the +contradictions in her moral nature,--the longing for sympathy, as shown +by her wishing for Helen's company, and the impossibility of passing +beyond the cold circle of isolation within which she had her being. The +fearful truth of that instinctive feeling of hers, that there was +something not human looking out of Elsie's eyes, came upon her with a +sudden flash of penetrating conviction. There were two warring +principles in that superb organization and proud soul. One made her a +woman, with all a woman's powers and longings. The other chilled all the +currents of outlet for her emotions. It made her tearless and mute, when +another woman would have wept and pleaded. And it infused into her soul +something--it was cruel now to call it malice--which was still and +watchful and dangerous, which waited its opportunity, and then shot like +an arrow from its bow out of the coil of brooding premeditation. Even +those who had never seen the white scars on Dick Venner's wrist, or heard +the half-told story of her supposed attempt to do a graver mischief, knew +well enough by looking at her that she was one of the creatures not to be +tampered with,--silent in anger and swift in vengeance. + +Helen could not return to the bedside at once after this communication. +It was with altered eyes that she must look on the poor girl, the victim +of such an unheard-of fatality. All was explained to her now. But it +opened such depths of solemn thought in her awakened consciousness, that +it seemed as if the whole mystery of human life were coming up again +before her for trial and judgment. "Oh," she thought, "if, while the will +lies sealed in its fountain, it may be poisoned at its very source, so +that it shall flow dark and deadly through its whole course, who are we +that we should judge our fellow-creatures by ourselves?" Then came the +terrible question, how far the elements themselves are capable of +perverting the moral nature: if valor, and justice, and truth, the +strength of man and the virtue of woman, may not be poisoned out of a +race by the food of the Australian in his forest, by the foul air and +darkness of the Christians cooped up in the "tenement-houses" close by +those who live in the palaces of the great cities? + +She walked out into the garden, lost in thought upon these dark and deep +matters. Presently she heard a step behind her, and Elsie's father came +up and joined her. Since his introduction to Helen at the distinguished +tea-party given by the Widow Rowens, and before her coming to sit with +Elsie, Mr. Dudley Venner had in the most accidental way in the world met +her on several occasions: once after church, when she happened to be +caught in a slight shower and he insisted on holding his umbrella over +her on her way home;--once at a small party at one of the mansion-houses, +where the quick-eyed lady of the house had a wonderful knack of bringing +people together who liked to see each other;--perhaps at other times and +places; but of this there is no certain evidence. + +They naturally spoke of Elsie, her illness, and the aspect it had taken. +But Helen noticed in all that Dudley Venner said about his daughter a +morbid sensitiveness, as it seemed to her, an aversion to saying much +about her physical condition or her peculiarities,--a wish to feel and +speak as a parent should, and yet a shrinking, as if there were something +about Elsie which he could not bear to dwell upon. She thought she saw +through all this, and she could interpret it all charitably. There were +circumstances about his daughter which recalled the great sorrow of his +life; it was not strange that this perpetual reminder should in some +degree have modified his feelings as a father. But what a life he must +have been leading for so many years, with this perpetual source of +distress which he could not name! Helen knew well enough, now, the +meaning of the sadness which had left such traces in his features and +tones, and it made her feel very kindly and compassionate towards him. + +So they walked over the crackling leaves in the garden, between the lines +of box breathing its fragrance of eternity;--for this is one of the odors +which carry us out of time into the abysses of the unbeginning past; if +we ever lived on another ball of stone than this, it must be that there +was box growing on it. So they walked, finding their way softly to each +other's sorrows and sympathies, each matching some counterpart to the +other's experience of life, and startled to see how the different, yet +parallel, lessons they had been taught by suffering had led them step by +step to the same serene acquiescence in the orderings of that Supreme +Wisdom which they both devoutly recognized. + +Old Sophy was at the window and saw them walking up and down the +garden-alleys. She watched them as her grandfather the savage watched +the figures that moved among the trees when a hostile tribe was lurking +about his mountain. + +"There'll be a weddin' in the ol house," she said, "before there's roses +on them bushes ag'in. But it won' be my poor Elsie's weddin', 'n' ol' +Sophy won' be there." + +When Helen prayed in the silence of her soul that evening, it was not +that Elsie's life might be spared. She dared not ask that as a favor of +Heaven. What could life be to her but a perpetual anguish, and to those +about her but an ever-present terror? Might she but be so influenced by +divine grace, that what in her was most truly human, most purely +woman-like, should overcome the dark, cold, unmentionable instinct which +had pervaded her being like a subtile poison that was all she could ask, +and the rest she left to a higher wisdom and tenderer love than her own. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +THE WHITE ASH. + +When Helen returned to Elsie's bedside, it was with a new and still +deeper feeling of sympathy, such as the story told by Old Sophy might +well awaken. She understood, as never before, the singular fascination +and as singular repulsion which she had long felt in Elsie's presence. +It had not been without a great effort that she had forced herself to +become the almost constant attendant of the sick girl; and now she was +learning, but not for the first time, the blessed truth which so many +good women have found out for themselves, that the hardest duty bravely +performed soon becomes a habit, and tends in due time to transform itself +into a pleasure. + +The old Doctor was beginning to look graver, in spite of himself. The +fever, if such it was, went gently forward, wasting the young girl's +powers of resistance from day to day; yet she showed no disposition to +take nourishment, and seemed literally to be living on air. It was +remarkable that with all this her look was almost natural, and her +features were hardly sharpened so as to suggest that her life was burning +away. He did not like this, nor various other unobtrusive signs of +danger which his practised eye detected. A very small matter might turn +the balance which held life and death poised against each other. He +surrounded her with precautions, that Nature might have every opportunity +of cunningly shifting the weights from the scale of death to the scale of +life, as she will often do if not rudely disturbed or interfered with. + +Little tokens of good-will and kind remembrance were constantly coming to +her from the girls in the school and the good people in the village. Some +of the mansion-house people obtained rare flowers which they sent her, +and her table was covered with fruits which tempted her in vain. Several +of the school-girls wished to make her a basket of their own handiwork, +and, filling it with autumnal flowers, to send it as a joint offering. +Mr. Bernard found out their project accidentally, and, wishing to have +his share in it, brought home from one of his long walks some boughs full +of variously tinted leaves, such as were still clinging to the stricken +trees. With these he brought also some of the already fallen leaflets of +the white ash, remarkable for their rich olive-purple color, forming a +beautiful contrast with some of the lighter-hued leaves. It so happened +that this particular tree, the white ash, did not grow upon The Mountain, +and the leaflets were more welcome for their comparative rarity. So the +girls made their basket, and the floor of it they covered with the rich +olive-purple leaflets. Such late flowers as they could lay their hands +upon served to fill it, and with many kindly messages they sent it to +Miss Elsie Venner at the Dudley mansion-house. + +Elsie was sitting up in her bed when it came, languid, but tranquil, and +Helen was by her, as usual, holding her hand, which was strangely cold, +Helen thought, for one who was said to have some kind of fever. The +school-girls' basket was brought in with its messages of love and hopes +for speedy recovery. Old Sophy was delighted to see that it pleased +Elsie, and laid it on the bed before her. Elsie began looking at the +flowers, and taking them from the basket, that she might see the leaves. +All at once she appeared to be agitated; she looked at the basket, then +around, as if there were some fearful presence about her which she was +searching for with her eager glances. She took out the flowers, one by +one, her breathing growing hurried, her eyes staring, her hands +trembling,--till, as she came near the bottom of the basket, she flung +out all the rest with a hasty movement, looked upon the olive-purple +leaflets as if paralyzed for a moment, shrunk up, as it were, into +herself in a curdling terror, dashed the basket from her, and fell back +senseless, with a faint cry which chilled the blood of the startled +listeners at her bedside. + +"Take it away!--take it away!--quick!" said Old Sophy, as she hastened +to her mistress's pillow. "It 's the leaves of the tree that was always +death to her,--take it away! She can't live wi' it in the room!" + +The poor old woman began chafing Elsie's hands, and Helen to try to rouse +her with hartshorn, while a third frightened attendant gathered up the +flowers and the basket and carried them out of the apartment, She came to +herself after a time, but exhausted and then wandering. In her delirium +she talked constantly as if she were in a cave, with such exactness of +circumstance that Helen could not doubt at all that she had some such +retreat among the rocks of The Mountain, probably fitted up in her own +fantastic way, where she sometimes hid herself from all human eyes, and +of the entrance to which she alone possessed the secret. + +All this passed away, and left her, of course, weaker than before. But +this was not the only influence the unexplained paroxysm had left behind +it. From this time forward there was a change in her whole expression +and her manner. The shadows ceased flitting over her features, and the +old woman, who watched her from day to day and from hour to hour as a +mother watches her child, saw the likeness she bore to her mother coming +forth more and more, as the cold glitter died out of the diamond eyes, +and the stormy scowl disappeared from the dark brows and low forehead. + +With all the kindness and indulgence her father had bestowed upon her, +Elsie had never felt that he loved her. The reader knows well enough +what fatal recollections and associations had frozen up the springs of +natural affection in his breast. There was nothing in the world he would +not do for Elsie. He had sacrificed his whole life to her. His very +seeming carelessness about restraining her was all calculated; he knew +that restraint would produce nothing but utter alienation. Just so far +as she allowed him, he shared her studies, her few pleasures, her +thoughts; but she was essentially solitary and uncommunicative. No +person, as was said long ago, could judge him, because his task was not +merely difficult, but simply impracticable to human powers. A nature +like Elsie's had necessarily to be studied by itself, and to be followed +in its laws where it could not be led. + +Every day, at different hours, during the whole of his daughter's +illness, Dudley Venner had sat by her, doing all he could to soothe and +please her. Always the same thin film of some emotional non-conductor +between them; always that kind of habitual regard and family-interest, +mingled with the deepest pity on one side and a sort of respect on the +other, which never warmed into outward evidences of affection. + +It was after this occasion, when she had been so profoundly agitated by a +seemingly insignificant cause, that her father and Old Sophy were +sitting, one at one side of her bed and one at the other. She had fallen +into a light slumber. As they were looking at her, the same thought came +into both their minds at the same moment. Old Sophy spoke for both, as +she said, in a low voice, + +"It 's her mother's look,--it 's her mother's own face right over +again,--she never look' so before, the Lord's hand is on her! His will +be done!" + +When Elsie woke and lifted her languid eyes upon her father's face, she +saw in it a tenderness, a depth of affection, such as she remembered at +rare moments of her childhood, when she had won him to her by some +unusual gleam of sunshine in her fitful temper. + +"Elsie, dear," he said, "we were thinking how much your expression was +sometimes like that of your sweet mother. If you could but have seen +her, so as to remember her!" + +The tender look and tone, the yearning of the daughter's heart for the +mother she had never seen, save only with the unfixed, undistinguishing +eyes of earliest infancy, perhaps the under-thought that she might soon +rejoin her in another state of being,--all came upon her with a sudden +overflow of feeling which broke through all the barriers between her +heart and her eyes, and Elsie wept. It seemed to her father as if the +malign influence--evil spirit it might almost be called--which had +pervaded her being, had at last been driven forth or exorcised, and that +these tears were at once the sign and the pledge of her redeemed nature. +But now she was to be soothed, and not excited. After her tears she +slept again, and the look her face wore was peaceful as never before. + +Old Sophy met the Doctor at the door and told him all the circumstances +connected with the extraordinary attack from which Elsie had suffered. +It was the purple leaves, she said. She remembered that Dick once +brought home a branch of a tree with some of the same leaves on it, and +Elsie screamed and almost fainted then. She, Sophy, had asked her, after +she had got quiet, what it was in the leaves that made her feel so bad. +Elsie could n't tell her,--did n't like to speak about it,--shuddered +whenever Sophy mentioned it. + +This did not sound so strangely to the old Doctor as it does to some who +listen to his narrative. He had known some curious examples of +antipathies, and remembered reading of others still more singular. He had +known those who could not bear the presence of a cat, and recollected the +story, often told, of a person's hiding one in a chest when one of these +sensitive individuals came into the room, so as not to disturb him; but +he presently began to sweat and turn pale, and cried out that there must +be a cat hid somewhere. He knew people who were poisoned by +strawberries, by honey, by different meats, many who could not endure +cheese,--some who could not bear the smell of roses. If he had known all +the stories in the old books, he would have found that some have swooned +and become as dead men at the smell of a rose,--that a stout soldier has +been known to turn and run at the sight or smell of rue,--that cassia and +even olive-oil have produced deadly faintings in certain. +individuals,--in short, that almost everything has seemed to be a poison +to somebody. + +"Bring me that basket, Sophy," said the old Doctor, "if you can find it." + +Sophy brought it to him,--for he had not yet entered Elsie's apartment. + +"These purple leaves are from the white ash," he said. "You don't know +the notion that people commonly have about that tree, Sophy?" + +"I know they say the Ugly Things never go where the white ash grows," +Sophy answered. "Oh, Doctor dear, what I'm thinkin' of a'n't true, is +it?" + +The Doctor smiled sadly, but did not answer. He went directly to Elsie's +room. Nobody would have known by his manner that he saw any special +change in his patient. He spoke with her as usual, made some slight +alteration in his prescriptions, and left the room with a kind, cheerful +look. He met her father on the stairs. + +"Is it as I thought?" said Dudley Veneer. + +"There is everything to fear," the Doctor said, "and not much, I am +afraid, to hope. Does not her face recall to you one that you remember, +as never before?" + +"Yes," her father answered,--"oh, yes! What is the meaning of this +change which has come over her features, and her voice, her temper, her +whole being? Tell me, oh, tell me, what is it? Can it be that the curse +is passing away, and my daughter is to be restored to me,--such as her +mother would have had her,--such as her mother was?" + +"Walk out with me into the garden," the Doctor said, "and I will tell you +all I know and all I think about this great mystery of Elsie's life." + +They walked out together, and the Doctor began: "She has lived a double +being, as it were,--the consequence of the blight which fell upon her in +the dim period before consciousness. You can see what she might have +been but for this. You know that for these eighteen years her whole +existence has taken its character from that influence which we need not +name. But you will remember that few of the lower forms of life last as +human beings do; and thus it might have been hoped and trusted with some +show of reason, as I have always suspected you hoped and trusted, perhaps +more confidently than myself, that the lower nature which had become +engrafted on the higher would die out and leave the real woman's life she +inherited to outlive this accidental principle which had so poisoned her +childhood and youth. I believe it is so dying out; but I am +afraid,--yes, I must say it, I fear it has involved the centres of life +in its own decay. There is hardly any pulse at Elsie's wrist; no +stimulants seem to rouse her; and it looks as if life were slowly +retreating inwards, so that by-and-by she will sleep as those who lie +down in the cold and never wake." + +Strange as it may seem, her father heard all this not without deep +sorrow, and such marks of it as his thoughtful and tranquil nature, long +schooled by suffering, claimed or permitted, but with a resignation +itself the measure of his past trials. Dear as his daughter might become +to him, all he dared to ask of Heaven was that she might be restored to +that truer self which lay beneath her false and adventitious being. If +he could once see that the icy lustre in her eyes had become a soft, calm +light,--that her soul was at peace with all about her and with Him; +above,--this crumb from the children's table was enough for him, as it +was for the Syro-Phoenician woman who asked that the dark spirit might go +out from her daughter. + +There was little change the next day, until all at once she said in a +clear voice that she should like to see her master at the school, Mr. +Langdon. He came accordingly, and took the place of Helen at her +bedside. It seemed as if Elsie had forgotten the last scene with him. +Might it be that pride had come in, and she had sent for him only to show +how superior she had grown to the weakness which had betrayed her into +that extraordinary request, so contrary to the instincts and usages of +her sex? Or was it that the singular change which had come over her had +involved her passionate fancy for him and swept it away with her other +habits of thought and feeling? Or could it be that she felt that all +earthly interests were becoming of little account to her, and wished to +place herself right with one to whom she had displayed a wayward movement +of her unbalanced imagination? She welcomed Mr. Bernard as quietly as +she had received Helen Darley. He colored at the recollection of that +last scene, when he came into her presence; but she smiled with perfect +tranquillity. She did not speak to him of any apprehension; but he saw +that she looked upon herself as doomed. So friendly, yet so calm did she +seem through all their interview, that Mr. Bernard could only look back +upon her manifestation of feeling towards him on their walk from the +school as a vagary of a mind laboring under some unnatural excitement, +and wholly at variance with the true character of Elsie Venner as he saw +her before him in her subdued, yet singular beauty. He looked with almost +scientific closeness of observation into the diamond eyes; but that +peculiar light which he knew so well was not there. She was the same in +one sense as on that first day when he had seen her coiling and uncoiling +her golden chain; yet how different in every aspect which revealed her +state of mind and emotion! Something of tenderness there was, perhaps, +in her tone towards him; she would not have sent for him, had she not +felt more than an ordinary interest in him. But through the whole of his +visit she never lost her gracious self-possession. The Dudley race might +well be proud of the last of its daughters, as she lay dying, but +unconquered by the feeling of the present or the fear of the future. + +As for Mr. Bernard, he found it very hard to look upon her, and listen to +her unmoved. There was nothing that reminded him of the stormy--browed, +almost savage girl he remembered in her fierce loveliness,--nothing of +all her singularities of air and of costume. Nothing? Yes, one thing. +Weak and suffering as she was, she had never parted with one particular +ornament, such as a sick person would naturally, as it might be supposed, +get rid of at once. The golden cord which she wore round her neck at the +great party was still there. A bracelet was lying by her pillow; she had +unclasped it from her wrist. + +Before Mr. Bernard left her, she said, + +"I shall never see you again. Some time or other, perhaps, you will +mention my name to one whom you love. Give her this from your scholar +and friend Elsie." + +He took the bracelet, raised her hand to his lips, then turned his face +away; in that moment he was the weaker of the two. + +"Good-bye," she said; "thank you for coming." + +His voice died away in his throat, as he tried to answer her. She +followed him with her eyes as he passed from her sight through the door, +and when it closed after him sobbed tremulously once or twice, but +stilled herself, and met Helen, as she entered, with a composed +countenance. + +"I have had a very pleasant visit from Mr. Langdon," Elsie said. "Sit by +me, Helen, awhile without speaking; I should like to sleep, if I +can,--and to dream." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THE GOLDEN CORD IS LOOSED. + +The Reverend Chauncy Fairweather, hearing that his parishioner's +daughter, Elsie, was very ill, could do nothing less than come to the +mansion-house and tender such consolations as he was master of. It was +rather remarkable that the old Doctor did not exactly approve of his +visit. He thought that company of every sort might be injurious in her +weak state. He was of opinion that Mr. Fairweather, though greatly +interested in religious matters, was not the most sympathetic person that +could be found; in fact, the old Doctor thought he was too much taken up +with his own interests for eternity to give himself quite 'so heartily to +the need of other people as some persons got up on a rather more generous +scale (our good neighbor Dr. Honeywood, for instance) could do. However, +all these things had better be arranged to suit her wants; if she would +like to talk with a clergyman, she had a great deal better see one as +often as she liked, and run the risk of the excitement, than have a +hidden wish for such a visit and perhaps find herself too weak to see him +by-and-by. + +The old Doctor knew by sad experience that dreadful mistake against which +all medical practitioners should be warned. His experience may well be a +guide for others. Do not overlook the desire for spiritual advice and +consolation which patients sometimes feel, and, with the frightful +mauvaise honte peculiar to Protestantism, alone among all human beliefs, +are ashamed to tell. As a part of medical treatment, it is the +physician's business to detect the hidden longing for the food of the +soul, as much as for any form of bodily nourishment. Especially in the +higher walks of society, where this unutterably miserable false shame of +Protestantism acts in proportion to the general acuteness of the +cultivated sensibilities, let no unwillingness to suggest the sick +person's real need suffer him to languish between his want and his morbid +sensitiveness. What an infinite advantage the Mussulmans and the +Catholics have over many of our more exclusively spiritual sects in the +way they keep their religion always by them and never blush for it! And +besides this spiritual longing, we should never forget that + + "On some fond breast the parting soul relies," + +and the minister of religion, in addition to the sympathetic nature which +we have a right to demand in him, has trained himself to the art of +entering into the feelings of others. + +The reader must pardon this digression, which introduces the visit of the +Reverend Chauncy Fairweather to Elsie Veneer. It was mentioned to her +that he would like to call and see how she was, and she consented,--not +with much apparent interest, for she had reasons of her own for not +feeling any very deep conviction of his sympathy for persons in sorrow. +But he came, and worked the conversation round to religion, and confused +her with his hybrid notions, half made up of what he had been believing +and teaching all his life, and half of the new doctrines which he had +veneered upon the surface of his old belief. He got so far as to make a +prayer with her,--a cool, well-guarded prayer, which compromised his +faith as little as possible, and which, if devotion were a game played +against Providence, might have been considered a cautious and sagacious +move. + +When he had gone, Elsie called Old Sophy to her. + +"Sophy," she said, "don't let them send that cold hearted man to me any +more. If your old minister comes--to see you, I should like to hear him +talk. He looks as if he cared for everybody, and would care for me. +And, Sophy, if I should die one of these days, I should like to have that +old minister come and say whatever is to be said over me. It would +comfort Dudley more, I know, than to have that hard man here, when you're +in trouble, for some of you will be sorry when I'm gone,--won't you, +Sophy?" + +The poor old black woman could not stand this question. The cold +minister had frozen Elsie until she felt as if nobody cared for her or +would regret her,--and her question had betrayed this momentary feeling. + +"Don' talk so! don' talk so, darlin'!" she cried, passionately. "When you +go, Ol' Sophy'll go; 'n' where you go, Ol' Sophy'll go: 'n' we'll both go +t' th' place where th' Lord takes care of all his children, whether their +faces are white or black. Oh, darlin', darlin'! if th' Lord should let +me die firs', you shall fin' all ready for you when you come after me. +On'y don' go 'n' leave poor Ol' Sophy all 'lone in th' world!" + +Helen came in at this moment and quieted the old woman with a look. Such +scenes were just what were most dangerous, in the state in which Elsie +was lying: but that is one of the ways in which an affectionate friend +sometimes unconsciously wears out the life which a hired nurse, thinking +of nothing but her regular duties and her wages, would have spared from +all emotional fatigue. + +The change which had come over Elsie's disposition was itself the cause +of new excitements. How was it possible that her father could keep away +from her, now that she was coming back to the nature and the very look of +her mother, the bride of his youth? How was it possible to refuse her, +when she said to Old Sophy, that she should like to have her minister +come in and sit by her, even though his presence might perhaps prove a +new source of excitement? + +But the Reverend Doctor did come and sit by her, and spoke such soothing +words to her, words of such peace and consolation, that from that hour +she was tranquil as never before. All true hearts are alike in the hour +of need; the Catholic has a reserved fund of faith for his +fellow-creature's trying moment, and the Calvinist reveals those springs +of human brotherhood and charity in his soul which are only covered over +by the iron tables inscribed with the harder dogmas of his creed. It was +enough that the Reverend Doctor knew all Elsie's history. He could not +judge her by any formula, like those which have been moulded by past ages +out of their ignorance. He did not talk with her as if she were an +outside sinner worse than himself. He found a bruised and languishing +soul, and bound up its wounds. A blessed office,--one which is confined +to no sect or creed, but which good men in all times, under various names +and with varying ministries, to suit the need of each age, of each race, +of each individual soul, have come forward to discharge for their +suffering fellow-creatures. + +After this there was little change in Elsie, except that her heart beat +more feebly every day,--so that the old Doctor himself, with all his +experience, could see nothing to account for the gradual failing of the +powers of life, and yet could find no remedy which seemed to arrest its +progress in the smallest degree. + +"Be very careful," he said, "that she is not allowed to make any muscular +exertion. Any such effort, when a person is so enfeebled, may stop the +heart in a moment; and if it stops, it will never move again." + +Helen enforced this rule with the greatest care. Elsie was hardly +allowed to move her hand or to speak above a whisper. It seemed to be +mainly the question now, whether this trembling flame of life would be +blown out by some light breath of air, or whether it could be so nursed +and sheltered by the hollow of these watchful hands that it would have a +chance to kindle to its natural brightness. + +--Her father came in to sit with her in the evening. He had never talked +so freely with her as during the hour he had passed at her bedside, +telling her little circumstances of her mother's life, living over with +her all that was pleasant in the past, and trying to encourage her with +some cheerful gleams of hope for the future. A faint smile played over +her face, but she did not answer his encouraging suggestions. The hour +came for him to leave her with those who watched by her. + +"Good-night, my dear child," he said, and stooping down, kissed her +cheek. + +Elsie rose by a sudden effort, threw her arms round his neck, kissed him, +and said, "Good-night, my dear father!" + +The suddenness of her movement had taken him by surprise, or he would +have checked so dangerous an effort. It was too late now. Her arms slid +away from him like lifeless weights,--her head fell back upon her +pillow,--along sigh breathed through her lips. + +"She is faint," said Helen, doubtfully; "bring me the hartshorn, Sophy." + +The old woman had started from her place, and was now leaning over her, +looking in her face, and listening for the sound of her breathing. + +"She 's dead! Elsie 's dead! My darlin 's dead!" she cried aloud, +filling the room with her utterance of anguish. + +Dudley Venner drew her away and silenced her with a voice of authority, +while Helen and an assistant plied their restoratives. It was all in +vain. + +The solemn tidings passed from the chamber of death through the family. +The daughter, the hope of that old and honored house, was dead in the +freshness of her youth, and the home of its solitary representative was +hereafter doubly desolate. + +A messenger rode hastily out of the avenue. A little after this the +people of the village and the outlying farm-houses were startled by the +sound of a bell. + +One,--two,--three,--four, + +They stopped in every house, as far as the wavering vibrations reached, +and listened-- + +five,--six,--seven,-- + +It was not the little child which had been lying so long at the point of +death; that could not be more than three or four years old-- + +eight,--nine,--ten,--and so on to fifteen, sixteen,--seventeen, +--eighteen-- + +The pulsations seemed to keep on,--but it was the brain, and not the +bell, that was throbbing now. + +"Elsie 's dead!" was the exclamation at a hundred firesides. + +"Eighteen year old," said old Widow Peake, rising from her chair. +"Eighteen year ago I laid two gold eagles on her mother's eyes,--he +wouldn't have anything but gold touch her eyelids,--and now Elsie's to be +straightened,--the Lord have mercy on her poor sinful soul!" + +Dudley Venner prayed that night that he might be forgiven, if he had +failed in any act of duty or kindness to this unfortunate child of his, +now freed from all the woes born with her and so long poisoning her soul. +He thanked God for the brief interval of peace which had been granted +her, for the sweet communion they had enjoyed in these last days, and for +the hope of meeting her with that other lost friend in a better world. + +Helen mingled a few broken thanks and petitions with her tears: thanks +that she had been permitted to share the last days and hours of this poor +sister in sorrow; petitions that the grief of bereavement might be +lightened to the lonely parent and the faithful old servant. + +Old Sophy said almost nothing, but sat day and night by her dead darling. +But sometimes her anguish would find an outlet in strange sounds, +something between a cry and a musical note,--such as noise had ever heard +her utter before. These were old remembrances surging up from her +childish days, coming through her mother from the cannibal chief, her +grandfather,--death-wails, such as they sing in the mountains of Western +Africa, when they see the fires on distant hill-sides and know that their +own wives and children are undergoing the fate of captives. + +The time came when Elsie was to be laid by her mother in the small square +marked by the white stone. + +It was not unwillingly that the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather had +relinquished the duty of conducting the service to the Reverend Doctor +Honeywood, in accordance with Elsie's request. He could not, by any +reasoning, reconcile his present way of thinking with a hope for the +future of his unfortunate parishioner. Any good old Roman Catholic +priest, born and bred to his faith and his business, would have found a +loophole into some kind of heaven for her, by virtue of his doctrine of +"invincible ignorance," or other special proviso; but a recent convert +cannot enter into the working conditions of his new creed. Beliefs must +be lived in for a good while, before they accommodate themselves to the +soul's wants, and wear loose enough to be comfortable. + +The Reverend Doctor had no such scruples. Like thousands of those who +are classed nominally with the despairing believers, he had never prayed +over a departed brother or sister without feeling and expressing a +guarded hope that there was mercy in store for the poor sinner, whom +parents, wives, children, brothers and sisters could not bear to give up +to utter ruin without a word,--and would not, as he knew full well, in +virtue of that human love and sympathy which nothing can ever extinguish. +And in this poor Elsie's history he could read nothing which the tears of +the recording angel might not wash away. As the good physician of the +place knew the diseases that assailed the bodies of men and women, so he +had learned the mysteries of the sickness of the soul. + +So many wished to look upon Elsie's face once more, that her father would +not deny them; nay, he was pleased that those who remembered her living +should see her in the still beauty of death. Helen and those with her +arrayed her for this farewell-view. All was ready for the sad or curious +eyes which were to look upon her. There 'was no painful change to be +concealed by any artifice. Even her round neck was left uncovered, that +she might be more like one who slept. Only the golden cord was left in +its place: some searching eye might detect a trace of that birthmark +which it was whispered she had always worn a necklace to conceal. + +At the last moment, when all the preparations were completed, Old Sophy +stooped over her, and, with trembling hand, loosed the golden cord. She +looked intently; for some little space: there was no shade nor blemish +where the ring of gold had encircled her throat. She took it gently away +and laid it in the casket which held her ornaments. + +"The Lord be praised!" the old woman cried, aloud. "He has taken away +the mark that was on her; she's fit to meet his holy angels now!" + +So Elsie lay for hours in the great room, in a kind of state, with +flowers all about her,--her black hair braided as in life,--her brows +smooth, as if they had never known the scowl of passion,--and on her lips +the faint smile with which she had uttered her last "Good--night." The +young girls from the school looked at her, one after another, and passed +on, sobbing, carrying in their hearts the picture that would be with them +all their days. The great people of the place were all there with their +silent sympathy. The lesser kind of gentry, and many of the plainer folk +of the village, half-pleased to find themselves passing beneath the +stately portico of the ancient mansion-house, crowded in, until the ample +rooms were overflowing. All the friends whose acquaintance we have made +were there, and many from remoter villages and towns. + +There was a deep silence at last. The hour had come for the parting +words to be spoken over the dead. The good old minister's voice rose out +of the stillness, subdued and tremulous at first, but growing firmer and +clearer as he went on, until it reached the ears of the visitors who were +in the far, desolate chambers, looking at the pictured hangings and the +old dusty portraits. He did not tell her story in his prayer. He only +spoke of our dear departed sister as one of many whom Providence in its +wisdom has seen fit to bring under bondage from their cradles. It was +not for us to judge them by any standard of our own. He who made the +heart alone knew the infirmities it inherited or acquired. For all that +our dear sister had presented that was interesting and attractive in her +character we were to be grateful; for whatever was dark or inexplicable +we must trust that the deep shadow which rested on the twilight dawn of +her being might render a reason before the bar of Omniscience; for the +grace which had lightened her last days we should pour out our hearts in +thankful acknowledgment. From the life and the death of this our dear +sister we should learn a lesson of patience with our fellow-creatures in +their inborn peculiarities, of charity in judging what seem to us wilful +faults of character, of hope and trust, that, by sickness or affliction, +or such inevitable discipline as life must always bring with it, if by no +gentler means, the soul which had been left by Nature to wander into the +path of error and of suffering might be reclaimed and restored to its +true aim, and so led on by divine grace to its eternal welfare. He +closed his prayer by commending each member of the afflicted family to +the divine blessing. + +Then all at once rose the clear sound of the girls' voices, in the sweet, +sad melody of a funeral hymn,--one of those which Elsie had marked, as if +prophetically, among her own favorites. + +And so they laid her in the earth, and showered down flowers upon her, +and filled her grave, and covered it with green sods. By the side of it +was another oblong ridge, with a white stone standing at its head. Mr. +Bernard looked upon it, as he came close to the place where Elsie was +laid, and read the inscription, + + CATALINA + + WIFE TO DUDLEY VENNER + + DIED + OCTOBER 13TH 1840 + + AGED XX YEARS + +A gentle rain fell on the turf after it was laid. This was the beginning +of a long and dreary autumnal storm, a deferred "equinoctial," as many +considered it. The mountain streams were all swollen and turbulent, and +the steep declivities were furrowed in every direction by new channels. +It made the house seem doubly desolate to hear the wind howling and the +rain beating upon the roofs. The poor relation who was staying at the +house would insist on Helen's remaining a few days: Old Sophy was in such +a condition, that it kept her in continual anxiety, and there were many +cares which Helen could take off from her. + +The old black woman's life was buried in her darling's grave. She did +nothing but moan and lament for her. At night she was restless, and +would get up and wander to Elsie's apartment and look for her and call +her by name. At other times she would lie awake and listen to the wind +and the rain,--sometimes with such a wild look upon her face, and with +such sudden starts and exclamations, that it seemed as if she heard +spirit-voices and were answering the whispers of unseen visitants. With +all this were mingled hints of her old superstition,--forebodings of +something fearful about to happen,--perhaps the great final catastrophe +of all things, according to the prediction current in the kitchens of +Rockland. + +"Hark!" Old Sophy would say,--"don' you hear th' crackin' 'n' th' +snappin' up in Th' Mountain, 'n' th' rollin' o' th' big stones? The' 's +somethin' stirrin' among th' rocks; I hear th' soun' of it in th' night, +when th' wind has stopped blowin'. Oh, stay by me a little while, Miss +Darlin'! stay by me! for it's th' Las' Day, maybe, that's close on us, +'n' I feel as if I could n' meet th' Lord all alone!" + +It was curious,--but Helen did certainly recognize sounds, during the +lull of the storm, which were not of falling rain or running +streams,--short snapping sounds, as of tense cords breaking,--long uneven +sounds, as of masses rolling down steep declivities. But the morning +came as usual; and as the others said nothing of these singular noises, +Helen did not think it necessary to speak of them. All day long she and +the humble relative of Elsie's mother, who had appeared as poor relations +are wont to in the great prises of life, were busy in arranging the +disordered house, and looking over the various objects which Elsie's +singular tastes had brought together, to dispose of them as her father +might direct. They all met together at the usual hour for tea. One of +the servants came in, looking very blank, and said to the poor relation, + +"The well is gone dry; we have nothing but rainwater." + +Dudley Venner's countenance changed; he sprang to, his feet and went +to--assure himself of the fact, and, if he could, of the reason of it. +For a well to dry up during such a rain-storm was extraordinary,--it was +ominous. + +He came back, looking very anxious. + +"Did any of you notice any remarkable sounds last night," he said,--"or +this morning? Hark! do you hear anything now?" + +They listened in perfect silence for a few moments. Then there came a +short cracking sound, and two or three snaps, as of parting cords. + +Dudley Venner called all his household together. + +"We are in danger here, as I think, to-night," he said,--"not very great +danger, perhaps, but it is a risk I do not wish you to run. These heavy +rains have loosed some of the rocks above, and they may come down and +endanger the house. Harness the horses, Elbridge, and take all the +family away. Miss Darley will go to the Institute; the others will pass +the night at the Mountain House. I shall stay here, myself: it is not at +all likely that anything will come of these warnings; but if there +should, I choose to be there and take my chance." + +It needs little, generally, to frighten servants, and they were all ready +enough to go. The poor relation was one of the timid sort, and was +terribly uneasy to be got out of the house. This left no alternative, of +course, for Helen, but to go also. They all urged upon Dudley Veneer to +go with them: if there was danger, why should he remain to risk it, when +he sent away the others? + +Old Sophy said nothing until the time came for her to go with the second +of Elbridge's carriage-loads. + +"Come, Sophy," said Dudley Veneer, "get your things and go. They will +take good care of you at the Mountain House; and when we have made sure +that there is no real danger, you shall come back at once." + +"No, Masse!" Sophy answered. "I've seen Elsie into th' ground, 'n' I +a'n't goin' away to come back 'n' fin' Masse Veneer buried under th' +rocks. My darlin' 's gone; 'n' now, if Masse goes, 'n' th' of place +goes, it's time for Ol' Sophy to go, too. No, Masse Veneer, we'll both +stay in th' of mansion 'n' wait for th' Lord!" + +Nothing could change the old woman's determination; and her master, who +only feared, but did not really expect the long-deferred catastrophe, was +obliged to consent to her staying. The sudden drying of the well at such +a time was the most alarming sign; for he remembered that the same thing +had been observed just before great mountain-slides. This long rain, +too, was just the kind of cause which was likely to loosen the strata of +rock piled up in the ledges; if the dreaded event should ever come to +pass, it would be at such a time. + +He paced his chamber uneasily until long past midnight. If the morning +came without accident, he meant to have a careful examination made of all +the rents and fissures above, of their direction and extent, and +especially whether, in case of a mountain-slide, the huge masses would be +like to reach so far to the east and so low down the declivity as the +mansion. + +At two o'clock in the morning he was dozing in his chair. Old Sophy had +lain down on her bed, and was muttering in troubled dreams. + +All at once a loud crash seemed to rend the very heavens above them: a +crack as of the thunder that follows close upon the bolt,--a rending and +crashing as of a forest snapped through all its stems, torn, twisted, +splintered, dragged with all its ragged boughs into one chaotic ruin. +The ground trembled under them as in an earthquake; the old mansion +shuddered so that all its windows chattered in their casements; the great +chimney shook off its heavy cap-stones, which came down on the roof with +resounding concussions; and the echoes of The Mountain roared and +bellowed in long reduplication, as if its whole foundations were rent, +and this were the terrible voice of its dissolution. + +Dudley Venner rose from his chair, folded his arms, and awaited his fate. +There was no knowing where to look for safety; and he remembered too well +the story of the family that was lost by rushing out of the house, and so +hurrying into the very jaws of death. + +He had stood thus but for a moment, when he heard the voice of Old Sophy +in a wild cry of terror: + +"It's th' Las' Day! It's th' Las' Day! The Lord is comin' to take us +all!" + +"Sophy!" he called; but she did not hear him or heed him, and rushed out +of the house. + +The worst danger was over. If they were to be destroyed, it would +necessarily be in a few seconds from the first thrill of the terrible +convulsion. He waited in awful suspense, but calm. Not more than one or +two minutes could have passed before the frightful tumult and all its +sounding echoes had ceased. He called Old Sophy; but she did not answer. +He went to the western window and looked forth into the darkness. He +could not distinguish the outlines of the landscape, but the white stone +was clearly visible, and by its side the new-made mound. Nay, what was +that which obscured its outline, in shape like a human figure? He flung +open the window and sprang through. It was all that there was left of +poor Old Sophy, stretched out lifeless, upon her darling's grave. + +He had scarcely composed her limbs and drawn the sheet over her, when the +neighbors began to arrive from all directions. Each was expecting to +hear of houses overwhelmed and families destroyed; but each came with the +story that his own household was safe. It was not until the morning +dawned that the true nature and extent of the sudden movement was +ascertained. A great seam had opened above the long cliff, and the +terrible Rattlesnake Ledge, with all its envenomed reptiles, its dark +fissures and black caverns, was buried forever beneath a mighty incumbent +mass of ruin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +MR. SILAS PECKHAM RENDERS HIS ACCOUNT. + +The morning rose clear and bright. The long storm was over, and the calm +autumnal sunshine was now to return, with all its infinite repose and +sweetness. With the earliest dawn exploring parties were out in every +direction along the southern slope of The Mountain, tracing the ravages +of the great slide and the track it had followed. It proved to be not so +much a slide as the breaking off and falling of a vast line of cliff, +including the dreaded Ledge. It had folded over like the leaves of a +half-opened book when they close, crushing the trees below, piling its +ruins in a glacis at the foot of what had been the overhanging wall of +the cliff, and filling up that deep cavity above the mansion-house which +bore the ill-omened name of Dead Man's Hollow. This it was which had +saved the Dudley mansion. The falling masses, or huge fragments breaking +off from them, would have swept the house and all around it to +destruction but for this deep shelving dell, into which the stream of +ruin was happily directed. It was, indeed, one of Nature's conservative +revolutions; for the fallen masses made a kind oz shelf, which interposed +a level break between the inclined planes above and below it, so that the +nightmare-fancies of the dwellers in the Dudley mansion, and in many +other residences under the shadow of The Mountain, need not keep them +lying awake hereafter to listen for the snapping of roots and the +splitting of the rocks above them. + +Twenty-four hours after the falling of the cliff, it seemed as if it had +happened ages ago. The new fact had fitted itself in with all the old +predictions, forebodings, fears, and acquired the solidarity belonging to +all events which have slipped out of the fingers of Time and dissolved in +the antecedent eternity. + +Old Sophy was lying dead in the Dudley mansion. If there were tears shed +for her, they could not be bitter ones; for she had lived out her full +measure of days, and gone--who could help fondly believing it?--to rejoin +her beloved mistress. They made a place for her at the foot of the two +mounds. It was thus she would have chosen to sleep, and not to have +wronged her humble devotion in life by asking to lie at the side of those +whom she had served so long and faithfully. There were very few present +at the simple ceremony. Helen Darley was one of these few. The old black +woman had been her companion in all the kind offices of which she had +been the ministering angel to Elsie. + +After it was all over, Helen was leaving with the rest, when Dudley +Veneer begged her to stay a little, and he would send her back: it was a +long walk; besides, he wished to say some things to her, which he had not +had the opportunity of speaking. Of course Helen could not refuse him; +there must be many thoughts coming into his mind which he would wish to +share with her who had known his daughter so long and been with filer in +her last days. + +She returned into the great parlor with the wrought cornices and the +medallion-portraits on the ceiling. + +"I am now alone in the world," Dudley Veneer said. + +Helen must have known that before he spoke. But the tone in which he +said it had so much meaning, that she could not find a word to answer him +with. They sat in silence, which the old tall clock counted out in long +seconds; but it was silence which meant more than any words they had ever +spoken. + +"Alone in the world. Helen, the freshness of my life is gone, and there +is little left of the few graces which in my younger days might have +fitted me to win the love of women. Listen to me,--kindly, if you can; +forgive me, at least. Half my life has been passed in constant fear and +anguish, without any near friend to share my trials. My task is done +now; my fears have ceased to prey upon me; the sharpness of early sorrows +has yielded something of its edge to time. You have bound me to you by +gratitude in the tender care you have taken of my poor child. More than +this. I must tell you all now, out of the depth of this trouble through +which I am passing. I have loved you from the moment we first met; and +if my life has anything left worth accepting, it is yours. Will you take +the offered gift?" + +Helen looked in his face, surprised, bewildered. + +"This is not for me,--not for me," she said. "I am but a poor faded +flower, not worth the gathering, of such a one as you. No, no,--I have +been bred to humble toil all my days, and I could not be to you what you +ought to ask. I am accustomed to a kind of loneliness and +self-dependence. I have seen nothing, almost, of the world, such as you +were born to move in. Leave me to my obscure place and duties; I shall +at least have peace;--and you--you will surely find in due time some one +better fitted by Nature and training to make you happy." + +"No, Miss Darley!" Dudley Venner said, almost sternly. "You must not +speak to a man, who has lived through my experiences, of looking about +for a new choice after his heart has once chosen. Say that you can never +love me; say that I have lived too long to share your young life; say +that sorrow has left nothing in me for Love to find his pleasure in; but +do not mock me with the hope of a new affection for some unknown object. +The first look of yours brought me to your side. The first tone of your +voice sunk into my heart. From this moment my life must wither out or +bloom anew. My home is desolate. Come under my roof and make it bright +once more,--share my life with me,--or I shall give the halls of the old +mansion to the bats and the owls, and wander forth alone without a hope +or a friend!" + +To find herself with a man's future at the disposal of a single word of +hers!--a man like this, too, with a fascination for her against which +she had tried to shut her heart, feeling that he lived in another sphere +than hers, working as she was for her bread a poor operative in the +factory of a hard master and jealous overseer, the salaried drudge of Mr. +Silas Peckham! Why, she had thought he was grateful to her as a friend +of his daughter; she had even pleased herself with the feeling that he +liked her, in her humble place, as a woman of some cultivation and many +sympathetic points of relation with himself; but that he loved her,--that +this deep, fine nature, in a man so far removed from her in outward +circumstance, should have found its counterpart in one whom life had +treated so coldly as herself,--that Dudley Venner should stake his +happiness on a breath of hers,--poor Helen Darley's,--it was all a +surprise, a confusion, a kind of fear not wholly fearful. Ah, me! women +know what it is, that mist over the eyes, that trembling in the limbs, +that faltering of the voice, that sweet, shame-faced, unspoken confession +of weakness which does not wish to be strong, that sudden overflow in the +soul where thoughts loose their hold on each other and swim single and +helpless in the flood of emotion,--women know what it is! + +No doubt she was a little frightened and a good deal bewildered, and that +her sympathies were warmly excited for a friend to whom she had been +brought so near, and whose loneliness she saw and pitied. She lost that +calm self-possession she had hoped to maintain. + +"If I thought that I could make you happy,--if I should speak from my +heart, and not my reason,--I am but a weak woman,--yet if I can be to +you--What can I say?" + +What more could this poor, dear Helen say? + +"Elbridge, harness the horses and take Miss Darley back to the school." + +What conversation had taken place since Helen's rhetorical failure is not +recorded in the minutes from which this narrative is constructed. But +when the man who had been summoned had gone to get the carriage ready, +Helen resumed something she had been speaking of. + +"Not for the world. Everything must go on just as it has gone on, for +the present. There are proprieties to be consulted. I cannot be hard +with you, that out of your very affliction has sprung this--this +well--you must name it for me,--but the world will never listen to +explanations. I am to be Helen Darley, lady assistant in Mr. Silas +Peckham's school, as long as I see fit to hold my office. And I mean to +attend to my scholars just as before; so that I shall have very little +time for visiting or seeing company. I believe, though, you are one of +the Trustees and a Member of the Examining Committee; so that, if you +should happen to visit the school, I shall try to be civil to you." + +Every lady sees, of course, that Helen was quite right; but perhaps here +and there one will think that Dudley Venner was all wrong,--that he was +too hasty,--that he should have been too full of his recent grief for +such a confession as he has just made, and the passion from which it +sprung. Perhaps they do not understand the sudden recoil of a strong +nature long compressed. Perhaps they have not studied the mystery of +allotropism in the emotions of the human heart. Go to the nearest +chemist and ask him to show you some of the dark-red phosphorus which +will not burn without fierce heating, but at 500 deg. Fahrenheit, changes +back again to the inflammable substance we know so well. Grief seems +more like ashes than like fire; but as grief has been love once, so it +may become love again. This is emotional allotropism. + +Helen rode back to the Institute and inquired for Mr. Peckham. She had +not seen him during the brief interval between her departure from the +mansion-house and her return to Old Sophy's funeral. There were various +questions about the school she wished to ask. + +"Oh, how's your haalth, Miss Darley?" Silas began. "We've missed you +consid'able. Glad to see you back at the post of dooty. Hope the Squire +treated you hahnsomely,--liberal pecooniary compensation,--hey? A'n't +much of a loser, I guess, by acceptin' his propositions?" + +Helen blushed at this last question, as if Silas had meant something by +it beyond asking what money she had received; but his own double-meaning +expression and her blush were too nice points for him to have taken +cognizance of. He was engaged in a mental calculation as to the amount +of the deduction he should make under the head of "demage to the +institootion,"--this depending somewhat on that of the "pecooniary +compensation" she might have received for her services as the friend of +Elsie Venner. + +So Helen slid back at once into her routine, the same faithful, patient +creature she had always been. But what was this new light which seemed +to have kindled in her eyes? What was this look of peace, which nothing +could disturb, which smiled serenely through all the little meannesses +with which the daily life of the educational factory surrounded her, +which not only made her seem resigned, but overflowed all her features +with a thoughtful, subdued happiness? Mr. Bernard did not know,--perhaps +he did not guess. The inmates of the Dudley mansion were not scandalized +by any mysterious visits of a veiled or unveiled lady. The vibrating +tongues of the "female youth" of the Institute were not set in motion by +the standing of an equipage at the gate, waiting for their lady-teacher. +The servants at the mansion did not convey numerous letters with +superscriptions in a bold, manly hand, sealed with the arms of a +well-known house, and directed to Miss Helen Darley; nor, on the other +hand, did Hiram, the man from the lean streak in New Hampshire, carry +sweet-smelling, rose-hued, many-layered, criss-crossed, +fine-stitch-lettered packages of note-paper directed to Dudley Venner, +Esq., and all too scanty to hold that incredible expansion of the famous +three words which a woman was born to say,--that perpetual miracle which +astonishes all the go-betweens who wear their shoes out in carrying a +woman's infinite variations on the theme-- + + "I love you." + +But the reader must remember that there are walks in country-towns where +people are liable to meet by accident, and that the hollow of an old tree +has served the purpose of a post-office sometimes; so that he has her +choice (to divide the pronouns impartially) of various hypotheses to +account for the new glory of happiness which seemed to have irradiated +our poor Helen's features, as if her dreary life were awakening in the +dawn of a blessed future. + +With all the alleviations which have been hinted at, Mr. Dudley Venner +thought that the days and the weeks had never moved so slowly as through +the last period of the autumn that was passing. Elsie had been a +perpetual source of anxiety to him, but still she had been a companion. +He could not mourn for her; for he felt that she was safer with her +mother, in that world where there are no more sorrows and dangers, than +she could have been with him. But as he sat at his window and looked at +the three mounds, the loneliness of the great house made it seem more +like the sepulchre than these narrow dwellings where his beloved and her +daughter lay close to each other, side by side,--Catalina, the bride of +his youth, and Elsie, the child whom he had nurtured, with poor Old +Sophy, who had followed them like a black shadow, at their feet, under +the same soft turf, sprinkled with the brown autumnal leaves. It was not +good for him to be thus alone. How should he ever live through the long +months of November and December? + +The months of November and December did, in some way or other, get rid of +themselves at last, bringing with them the usual events of village-life +and a few unusual ones. Some of the geologists had been up to look at +the great slide, of which they gave those prolix accounts which everybody +remembers who read the scientific journals of the time. The engineers +reported that there was little probability of any further convulsion +along the line of rocks which overhung the more thickly settled part of +the town. The naturalists drew up a paper on the "Probable Extinction +of the Crotalus Durissus in the Township of Rockland." The engagement +of the Widow Rowens to a Little Millionville merchant was +announced,--"Sudding 'n' onexpected," Widow Leech said,--"waalthy, or she +wouldn't ha' looked at him,--fifty year old, if he is a day, 'n' hu'n't +got a white hair in his head." The Reverend Chauncy Fairweather had +publicly announced that he was going to join the Roman Catholic +communion,--not so much to the surprise or consternation of the +religious world as he had supposed. Several old ladies forthwith +proclaimed their intention of following him; but, as one or two of them +were deaf, and another had been threatened with an attack of that mild, +but obstinate complaint, dementia senilis, many thought it was not so +much the force of his arguments as a kind of tendency to jump as the +bellwether jumps, well known in flocks not included in the Christian +fold. His bereaved congregation immediately began pulling candidates on +and off, like new boots, on trial. Some pinched in tender places; some +were too loose; some were too square-toed; some were too coarse, and did +n't please; some were too thin, and would n't last;--in short, they could +n't possibly find a fit. At last, people began to drop in to hear old +Doctor Honeywood. They were quite surprised to find what a human old +gentleman he was, and went back and told the others, that, instead of +being a case of confluent sectarianism, as they supposed, the good old +minister had been so well vaccinated with charitable virus that he was +now a true, open-souled Christian of the mildest type. The end of all +which was, that the liberal people went over to the old minister almost +in a body, just at the time that Deacon Shearer and the "Vinegar-Bible" +party split off, and that not long afterwards they sold their own +meeting-house to the malecontents, so that Deacon Soper used often to +remind Colonel Sprowle of his wish that "our little man and him [the +Reverend Doctor] would swop pulpits," and tell him it had "pooty nigh +come trew."--But this is anticipating the course of events, which were +much longer in coming about; for we have but just got through that +terrible long month, as Mr. Dudley Venner found it, of December. + +On the first of January, Mr. Silas Peckham was in the habit of settling +his quarterly accounts, and making such new arrangements as his +convenience or interest dictated. New Year was a holiday at the +Institute. No doubt this accounted for Helen's being dressed so +charmingly,--always, to be sure in, her own simple way, but yet with such +a true lady's air, that she looked fit to be the mistress of any mansion +in the land. + +She was in the parlor alone, a little before noon, when Mr. Peckham came +in. + +"I'm ready to settle my accaount with you now, Miss Darley," said Silas. + +"As you please, Mr. Peckham," Helen answered, very graciously. + +"Before payin' you your selary," the Principal continued, "I wish to come +to an understandin' as to the futur'. I consider that I've been payin' +high, very high, for the work you do. Women's wages can't be expected to +do more than feed and clothe 'em, as a gineral thing, with a little +savin', in case of sickness, and to bury 'em, if they break daown, as all +of 'em are liable to do at any time. If I a'n't misinformed, you not +only support yourself out of my establishment, but likewise relatives of +yours, who I don't know that I'm called upon to feed and clothe. There +is a young woman, not burdened with destitute relatives, has signified +that she would be glad to take your dooties for less pecooniary +compensation, by a consid'able amaount, than you now receive. I shall be +willin', however, to retain your services at sech redooced rate as we +shall fix upon,--provided sech redooced rate be as low or lower than the +same services can be obtained elsewhere." + +"As you please, Mr. Peckham," Helen answered, with a smile so sweet that +the Principal (who of course had trumped up this opposition-teacher for +the occasion) said to himself she would stand being cut down a quarter, +perhaps a half, of her salary. + +"Here is your accaount, Miss Darley, and the balance doo you," said Silas +Peckham, handing her a paper and a small roll of infectious-flavored +bills wrapping six poisonous coppers of the old coinage. + +She took the paper and began looking at it. She could not quite make up +her mind to touch the feverish bills with the cankering coppers in them, +and left them airing themselves on the table. + +The document she held ran as follows: + +Silas Peckham, Esq., Principal of the Apollinean Institute, In Account +with Helen Darley, Assist. Teacher. + + Dr. Cr. + +To salary for quarter By Deduction for absence +ending Jan 1st @ $75 per 1 week 3 days ...........$10.00 +quarter ................ $75.00 + "Board, lodging, etc for + 10 days @ 75 cts per day.. 7.50 + + "Damage to Institution by + absence of teacher from + duties, say ............. 25.00 + + "Stationary furnished ..... .43 + + "Postage-stamp ............ .01 + + "Balance due Helen Darley. 32.06 + ------ -------- + $75.00 $75.00 + +ROCKLAND, Jan. 1st, 1859. + + +Now Helen had her own private reasons for wishing to receive the small +sum which was due her at this time without any unfair deduction,--reasons +which we need not inquire into too particularly, as we may be very sure +that they were right and womanly. So, when she looked over this account +of Mr. Silas Peckham's, and saw that he had contrived to pare down her +salary to something less than half its stipulated amount, the look which +her countenance wore was as near to that of righteous indignation as her +gentle features and soft blue eyes would admit of its being. + +"Why, Mr. Peckham," she said, "do you mean this? If I am of so much +value to you that you must take off twenty-five dollars for ten days' +absence, how is it that my salary is to be cut down to less than +seventy-five dollars a quarter, if I remain here?" + +"I gave you fair notice," said Silas. "I have a minute of it I took down +immed'ately after the intervoo." + +He lugged out his large pocket-book with the strap going all round it, +and took from it a slip of paper which confirmed his statement. + +"Besides," he added, slyly, "I presoom you have received a liberal +pecooniary compensation from Squire Venner for nussin' his daughter." + +Helen was looking over the bill while he was speaking. + +"Board and lodging for ten days, Mr. Peckham,--whose board and lodging, +pray?" + +The door opened before Silas Peckham could answer, and Mr. Bernard walked +into the parlor. Helen was holding the bill in her hand, looking as any +woman ought to look who has been at once wronged and insulted. + +"The last turn of the thumbscrew!" said Mr. Bernard to himself. + +"What is it, Helen? You look troubled." + +She handed him the account. + +He looked at the footing of it. Then he looked at the items. Then he +looked at Silas Peckham. + +At this moment Silas was sublime. He was so transcendently unconscious +of the emotions going on in Mr. Bernard's mind at the moment, that he had +only a single thought. + +"The accaount's correc'ly cast, I presoom;--if the' 's any mistake of +figgers or addin' 'em up, it'll be made all right. Everything's +accordin' to agreement. The minute written immed'ately after the +intervoo is here in my possession." + +Mr. Bernard looked at Helen. Just what would have happened to Silas +Peckham, as he stood then and there, but for the interposition of a +merciful Providence, nobody knows or ever will know; for at that moment +steps were heard upon the stairs, and Hiram threw open the parlor-door +for Mr. Dudley Venner to enter. + +He saluted them all gracefully with the good-wishes of the season, and +each of them returned his compliment,--Helen blushing fearfully, of +course, but not particularly noticed in her embarrassment by more than +one. + +Silas Peckham reckoned with perfect confidence on his Trustees, who had +always said what he told them to, and done what he wanted. It was a good +chance now to show off his power, and, by letting his instructors know +the unstable tenure of their offices, make it easier to settle his +accounts and arrange his salaries. There was nothing very strange in Mr. +Venner's calling; he was one of the Trustees, and this was New Year's +Day. But he had called just at the lucky moment for Mr. Peckham's +object. + +"I have thought some of makin' changes in the department of instruction," +he began. "Several accomplished teachers have applied to me, who would +be glad of sitooations. I understand that there never have been so many +fust-rate teachers, male and female, out of employment as doorin' the +present season. If I can make sahtisfahctory arrangements with my +present corpse of teachers, I shall be glad to do so; otherwise I shell, +with the permission of the Trustees, make sech noo arrangements as +circumstahnces compel." + +"You may make arrangements for a new assistant in my department, Mr. +Peckham," said Mr. Bernard, "at once,--this day,--this hour. I am not +safe to be trusted with your person five minutes out of this lady's +presence,--of whom I beg pardon for this strong language. Mr. Venner, I +must beg you, as one of the Trustees of this Institution, to look at the +manner in which its Principal has attempted to swindle this faithful +teacher whose toils and sacrifices and self-devotion to the school have +made it all that it is, in spite of this miserable trader's incompetence. +Will you look at the paper I hold?" + +Dudley Venner took the account and read it through, without changing a +feature. Then he turned to Silas Peckham. + +"You may make arrangements for a new assistant in the branches this lady +has taught. Miss Helen Darley is to be my wife. I had hoped to have +announced this news in a less abrupt and ungraceful manner. But I came +to tell you with my own lips what you would have learned before evening +from my friends in the village." + +Mr. Bernard went to Helen, who stood silent, with downcast eyes, and took +her hand warmly, hoping she might find all the happiness she deserved. +Then he turned to Dudley Venner, and said, "She is a queen, but has never +found it out. The world has nothing nobler than this dear woman, whom +you have discovered in the disguise of a teacher. God bless her and +you!" + +Dudley Venner returned his friendly grasp, without answering a word in +articulate speech. + +Silas remained dumb and aghast for a brief space. Coming to himself a +little, he thought there might have been some mistake about the +items,--would like to have Miss barley's bill returned,--would make it +all right,--had no idee that Squire Venner had a special int'rest in Miss +barley,--was sorry he had given offence,--if he might take that bill and +look it over-- + +"No. Mr. Peckham," said Mr. Dudley Venner, "there will be a full meeting +of the Board next week, and the bill, and such evidence with reference to +the management of the Institution and the treatment of its instructors as +Mr. Langdon sees fit to bring forward will be laid before them." + +Miss Helen Darley became that very day the guest of Miss Arabella +Thornton, the Judge's daughter. Mr. Bernard made his appearance a week +or two later at the Lectures, where the Professor first introduced him to +the reader. + +He stayed after the class had left the room. + +"Ah, Mr. Langdon! how do you do? Very glad to see you back again. How +have you been since our correspondence on Fascination and other curious +scientific questions?" + +It was the Professor who spoke,--whom the reader will recognize as +myself, the teller of this story. + +"I have been well," Mr. Bernard answered, with a serious look which +invited a further question. + +"I hope you have had none of those painful or dangerous experiences you +seemed to be thinking of when you wrote; at any rate, you have escaped +having your obituary written." + +"I have seen some things worth remembering. Shall I call on you this +evening and tell you about them?" + +"I shall be most happy to see you." + +This was the way in which I, the Professor, became acquainted with some +of the leading events of this story. They interested me sufficiently to +lead me to avail myself of all those other extraordinary methods of +obtaining information well known to writers of narrative. + +Mr. Langdon seemed to me to have gained in seriousness and strength of +character by his late experiences. He threw his whole energies into his +studies with an effect which distanced all his previous efforts. +Remembering my former hint, he employed his spare hours in writing for +the annual prizes, both of which he took by a unanimous vote of the +judges. Those who heard him read his Thesis at the Medical Commencement +will not soon forget the impression made by his fine personal appearance +and manners, nor the universal interest excited in the audience, as he +read, with his beautiful enunciation, that striking paper entitled +"Unresolved Nebulae in Vital Science." It was a general remark of the +Faculty,--and old Doctor Kittredge, who had come down on purpose to hear +Mr. Langdon, heartily agreed to it,--that there had never been a diploma +filled up, since the institution which conferred upon him the degree of +Doctor Medicdnce was founded, which carried with it more of promise to +the profession than that which bore the name of + + BERNARDUS CARYL LANGDON + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + + + +CONCLUSION. + +Mr. Bernard Langdon had no sooner taken his degree, than, in accordance +with the advice of one of his teachers whom he frequently consulted, he +took an office in the heart of the city where he had studied. He had +thought of beginning in a suburb or some remoter district of the city +proper. + +"No," said his teacher,--to wit, myself,--"don't do any such thing. You +are made for the best kind of practice; don't hamper yourself with an +outside constituency, such as belongs to a practitioner of the second +class. When a fellow like you chooses his beat, he must look ahead a +little. Take care of all the poor that apply to you, but leave the +half-pay classes to a different style of doctor,--the people who spend +one half their time in taking care of their patients, and the other half +in squeezing out their money. Go for the swell-fronts and south-exposure +houses; the folks inside are just as good as other people, and the +pleasantest, on the whole, to take care of. They must have somebody, and +they like a gentleman best. Don't throw yourself away. You have a good +presence and pleasing manners. You wear white linen by inherited +instinct. You can pronounce the word view. You have all the elements of +success; go and take it. Be polite and generous, but don't undervalue +yourself. You will be useful, at any rate; you may just as well be happy, +while you are about it. The highest social class furnishes incomparably +the best patients, taking them by and large. Besides, when they won't +get well and bore you to death, you can send 'em off to travel. Mind me +now, and take the tops of your sparrowgrass. Somebody must have +'em,--why shouldn't you? If you don't take your chance, you'll get the +butt-ends as a matter of course." + +Mr. Bernard talked like a young man full of noble sentiments. He wanted +to be useful to his fellow-beings. Their social differences were nothing +to him. He would never court the rich,--he would go where he was called. +He would rather save the life of a poor mother of a family than that of +half a dozen old gouty millionnaires whose heirs had been yawning and +stretching these ten years to get rid of them. + +"Generous emotions!" I exclaimed. "Cherish 'em; cling to 'em till you +are fifty, till you are seventy, till you are ninety! But do as I tell +you,--strike for the best circle of practice, and you 'll be sure to get +it!" + +Mr. Langdon did as I told him,--took a genteel office, furnished it +neatly, dressed with a certain elegance, soon made a pleasant circle of +acquaintances, and began to work his way into the right kind of business. +I missed him, however, for some days, not long after he had opened his +office. On his return, he told me he had been up at Rockland, by special +invitation, to attend the wedding of Mr. Dudley Venner and Miss Helen +Darley. He gave me a full account of the ceremony, which I regret that I +cannot relate in full. "Helen looked like an angel,"--that, I am sure, +was one of his expressions. As for her dress, I should like to give the +details, but am afraid of committing blunders, as men always do, when +they undertake to describe such matters. White dress, anyhow,--that I am +sure of,--with orange-flowers, and the most wonderful lace veil that was +ever seen or heard of. The Reverend Doctor Honeywood performed the +ceremony, of course. The good people seemed to have forgotten they ever +had had any other minister, except Deacon Shearer and his set of +malcontents, who were doing a dull business in the meeting-house lately +occupied by the Reverend Mr. Fairweather. + +"Who was at the wedding?" + +"Everybody, pretty much. They wanted to keep it quiet, but it was of no +use. Married at church. Front pews, old Dr. Kittredge and all the +mansionhouse people and distinguished strangers,--Colonel Sprowle and +family, including Matilda's young gentleman, a graduate of one of the +fresh-water colleges,--Mrs. Pickins (late Widow Rowens) and +husband,--Deacon Soper and numerous parishioners. A little nearer the +door, Abel, the Doctor's man, and Elbridge, who drove them to church in +the family-coach. Father Fairweather, as they all call him now, came in +late with Father McShane." + +"And Silas Peckham?" + +"Oh, Silas had left The School and Rockland. Cut up altogether too badly +in the examination instituted by the Trustees. Had removed over to +Tamarack, and thought of renting a large house and 'farming' the +town-poor." + +Some time after this, as I was walking with a young friend along by the +swell-fronts and south-exposures, whom should I see but Mr. Bernard +Langdon, looking remarkably happy, and keeping step by the side of a very +handsome and singularly well-dressed young lady? He bowed and lifted his +hat as we passed. + +"Who is that pretty girl my young doctor has got there?" I said to my +companion. + +"Who is that?" he answered. "You don't know? Why, that is neither more +nor less than Miss Letitia Forrester, daughter of--of--why, the great +banking firm, you know, Bilyuns Brothers & Forrester. Got acquainted +with her in the country, they say. There 's a story that they're +engaged, or like to be, if the firm consents." + +"Oh" I said. + +I did not like the look of it in the least. Too young,--too young. Has +not taken any position yet. No right to ask for the hand of Bilyuns +Brothers & Co.'s daughter. Besides, it will spoil him for practice, if +he marries a rich girl before he has formed habits of work. + +I looked in at his office the other day. A box of white kids was lying +open on the table. A three-cornered note, directed in a very delicate +lady's-hand, was distinguishable among a heap of papers. I was just +going to call him to account for his proceedings, when he pushed the +three-cornered note aside and took up a letter with a great +corporation-seal upon it. He had received the offer of a professor's +chair in an ancient and distinguished institution. + +"Pretty well for three-and-twenty, my boy," I said. "I suppose you'll +think you must be married one of these days, if you accept this office." + +Mr. Langdon blushed.--There had been stories about him, he knew. His name +had been mentioned in connection with that of a very charming young lady. +The current reports were not true. He had met this young lady, and been +much pleased with her, in the country, at the house of her grandfather, +the Reverend Doctor Honeywood,--you remember Miss Letitia Forrester, whom +I have mentioned repeatedly? On coming to town, he found his +country-acquaintance in a social position which seemed to discourage his +continued intimacy. He had discovered, however; that he was a not +unwelcome visitor, and had kept up friendly relations with her. But +there was no truth in the current reports,--none at all.' + +Some months had passed, after this visit, when I happened one evening to +stroll into a box in one of the principal theatres of the city. A small +party sat on the seats before me: a middle-aged gentleman and his lady, +in front, and directly behind them my young doctor and the same very +handsome young lady I had seen him walking with on the sidewalk before +the swell-fronts and south-exposures. As Professor Langdon seemed to be +very much taken up with his companion, and both of them looked as if they +were enjoying themselves, I determined not to make my presence known to +my young friend, and to withdraw quietly after feasting my eyes with the +sight of them for a few minutes. + +"It looks as if something might come of it," I said to myself. At that +moment the young lady lifted her arm accidentally in such a way that the +light fell upon the clasp of a chain which encircled her wrist. My eyes +filled with tears as I read upon the clasp, in sharp-cut Italic letters, +E. Y. They were tears at once of sad remembrance and of joyous +anticipation; for the ornament on which I looked was the double pledge of +a dead sorrow and a living affection. It was the golden bracelet,--the +parting-gift of Elsie Venner. the golden bracelet,--the parting-gift of +Elsie Venner. + + + + + + +THE GUARDIAN ANGEL + +by Oliver Wendell Holmes + + + +TO MY READERS. + +"A new Preface" is, I find, promised with my story. If there are any +among my readers who loved Aesop's Fables chiefly on account of the Moral +appended, they will perhaps be pleased to turn backward and learn what I +have to say here. + +This tale forms a natural sequence to a former one, which some may +remember, entitled "Elsie Venner." Like that,--it is intended for two +classes of readers, of which the smaller one includes the readers of the +"Morals" in Aesop and of this Preface. + +The first of the two stories based itself upon an experiment which some +thought cruel, even on paper. It imagined an alien element introduced +into the blood of a human being before that being saw the light. It +showed a human nature developing itself in conflict with the ophidian +characteristics and instincts impressed upon it during the pre-natal +period. Whether anything like this ever happened, or was possible, +mattered little: it enabled me, at any rate, to suggest the limitations +of human responsibility in a simple and effective way. + +The story which follows comes more nearly within the range of common +experience. The successive development of inherited bodily aspects and +habitudes is well known to all who have lived long enough to see families +grow up under their own eyes. The same thing happens, but less obviously +to common observation, in the mental and moral nature. There is something +frightful in the way in which not only characteristic qualities, but +particular manifestations of them, are repeated from generation to +generation. Jonathan Edwards the younger tells the story of a brutal +wretch in New Haven who was abusing his father, when the old man cried +out, "Don't drag me any further, for I did n't drag my father beyond this +tree." [The original version of this often-repeated story may be found +in Aristotle's Ethics, Book 7th, Chapter 7th.] I have attempted to show +the successive evolution of some inherited qualities in the character of +Myrtle Hazard, not so obtrusively as to disturb the narrative, but +plainly enough to be kept in sight by the small class of preface-readers. + +If I called these two stories Studies of the Reflex Function in its +higher sphere, I should frighten away all but the professors and the +learned ladies. If I should proclaim that they were protests against the +scholastic tendency to shift the total responsibility of all human action +from the Infinite to the finite, I might alarm the jealousy of the +cabinet-keepers of our doctrinal museums. By saying nothing about it, +the large majority of those whom my book reaches, not being +preface-readers, will never suspect anything to harm them beyond the +simple facts of the narrative. + +Should any professional alarmist choose to confound the doctrine of +limited responsibility with that which denies the existence of any +self-determining power, he may be presumed to belong to the class of +intellectual half-breeds, of which we have many representatives in our +new country, wearing the garb of civilization, and even the gown of +scholarship. If we cannot follow the automatic machinery of nature into +the mental and moral world, where it plays its part as much as in the +bodily functions, without being accused of laying "all that we are evil +in to a divine thrusting on," we had better return at once to our old +demonology, and reinstate the Leader of the Lower House in his +time-honored prerogatives. + +As fiction sometimes seems stranger than truth, a few words may be needed +here to make some of my characters and statements appear probable. The +long-pending question involving a property which had become in the mean +time of immense value finds its parallel in the great De Haro land-case, +decided in the Supreme Court while this story was in progress (May 14th, +1867). The experiment of breaking the child's will by imprisonment and +fasting is borrowed from a famous incident, happening long before the +case lately before one of the courts of a neighboring Commonwealth, where +a little girl was beaten to death because she would not say her prayers. +The mental state involving utter confusion of different generations in a +person yet capable of forming a correct judgment on other matters, is +almost a direct transcript from nature. I should not have ventured to +repeat the questions of the daughters of the millionaires to Myrtle +Hazard about her family conditions, and their comments, had not a lady of +fortune and position mentioned to me a similar circumstance in the school +history of one of her own children. Perhaps I should have hesitated in +reproducing Myrtle Hazard's "Vision," but for a singular experience of +his own related to me by the late Mr. Forceythe Willson. + +Gifted Hopkins (under various alliasis) has been a frequent correspondent +of mine. I have also received a good many communications, signed with +various names, which must have been from near female relatives of that +young gentleman. I once sent a kind of encyclical letter to the whole +family connection; but as the delusion under which they labor is still +common, and often leads to the wasting of time, the contempt of honest +study or humble labor, and the misapplication of intelligence not so far +below mediocrity as to be incapable of affording a respectable return +when employed in the proper direction, I thought this picture from life +might also be of service. When I say that no genuine young poet will +apply it to himself, I think I have so far removed the sting that few or +none will complain of being wounded. + +It is lamentable to be forced to add that the Reverend Joseph Bellamy +Stoker is only a softened copy of too many originals to whom, as a +regular attendant upon divine worship from my childhood to the present +time, I have respectfully listened, while they dealt with me and mine and +the bulk of their fellow-creatures after the manner of their sect. If, +in the interval between his first showing himself in my story and its +publication in a separate volume, anything had occurred to make me +question the justice or expediency of drawing and exhibiting such a +portrait, I should have reconsidered it, with the view of retouching its +sharper features. But its essential truthfulness has been illustrated +every month or two, since my story has been in the course of publication, +by a fresh example from real life, stamped in darker colors than any with +which I should have thought of staining my pages. + +There are a great many good clergymen to one bad one, but a writer finds +it hard to keep to the true proportion of good and bad persons in telling +a story. The three or four good ministers I have introduced in this +narrative must stand for many whom I have known and loved, and some of +whom I count to-day among my most valued friends. I hope the best and +wisest of them will like this story and approve it. If they cannot all +do this, I know they will recognize it as having been written with a +right and honest purpose. +BOSTON, 1867. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION. + +It is a quarter of a century since the foregoing Preface was written, and +that is long enough to allow a story to be forgotten by the public, and +very possibly by the writer of it also. I will not pretend that I have +forgotten all about "The Guardian Angel," but it is long since I have +read it, and many of its characters and incidents are far from being +distinct in my memory. There are, however, a few points which hold their +place among my recollections. The revolt of Myrtle Hazard from the +tyranny of that dogmatic dynasty now breaking up in all directions has +found new illustrations since this tale was written. I need only refer +to two instances of many. The first is from real life. Mr. Robert C. +Adams's work, "Travels in Faith from Tradition to Reason," is the outcome +of the teachings of one of the most intransigeant of our New England +Calvinists, the late Reverend Nehemiah Adams. For an example in +fiction,--fiction which bears all the marks of being copied from real +life,--I will refer to "The Story of an African Farm." The boy's honest, +but terrible outburst, "I hate God," was, I doubt not, more acceptable in +the view of his Maker than the lying praise of many a hypocrite who, +having enthroned a demon as Lord of the Universe, thinks to conciliate +his favor by using the phrases which the slaves of Eastern despots are in +the habit of addressing to their masters. I have had many private +letters showing the same revolt of reasoning natures against doctrines +which shock the more highly civilized part of mankind in this nineteenth +century and are leading to those dissensions which have long shown as +cracks, and are fast becoming lines of cleavage in some of the largest +communions of Protestantism. + +The principle of heredity has been largely studied since this story was +written. This tale, like "Elsie Venner," depends for its deeper +significance on the ante-natal history of its subject. But the story was +meant to be readable for those who did not care for its underlying +philosophy. If it fails to interest the reader who ventures upon it, it +may find a place on an unfrequented bookshelf in common with other +"medicated novels." + +Perhaps I have been too hard with Gifted Hopkins and the tribe of +rhymesters to which he belongs. I ought not to forget that I too +introduced myself to the reading world in a thin volume of verses; many +of which had better not have been written, and would not be reprinted +now, but for the fact that they have established a right to a place among +my poems in virtue of long occupancy. Besides, although the writing of +verses is often a mark of mental weakness, I cannot forget that Joseph +Story and George Bancroft each published his little book, of rhymes, and +that John Quincy Adams has left many poems on record, the writing of +which did not interfere with the vast and important labors of his +illustrious career. + +BEVERLY FARMS, MASS., August 7, 1891. +O. W. H. + + THE GUARDIAN ANGEL + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +AN ADVERTISEMENT. + +On Saturday, the 18th day of June, 1859, the "State Banner and Delphian +Oracle," published weekly at Oxbow Village, one of the principal centres +in a thriving river-town of New England, contained an advertisement which +involved the story of a young life, and stained the emotions of a small +community. Such faces of dismay, such shaking of heads, such gatherings +at corners, such halts of complaining, rheumatic wagons, and dried-up, +chirruping chaises, for colloquy of their still-faced tenants, had not +been known since the rainy November Friday, when old Malachi Withers was +found hanging in his garret up there at the lonely house behind the +poplars. + +The number of the "Banner and Oracle" which contained this advertisement +was a fair specimen enough of the kind of newspaper to which it belonged. +Some extracts from a stray copy of the issue of the date referred to will +show the reader what kind of entertainment the paper was accustomed to +furnish its patrons, and also serve some incidental purposes of the +writer in bringing into notice a few personages who are to figure in this +narrative. + +The copy in question was addressed to one of its regular +subscribers,--"B. Gridley, Esq." The sarcastic annotations at various +points, enclosed in brackets and italicised that they may be +distinguished from any other comments, were taken from the pencilled +remarks of that gentleman, intended for the improvement of a member of +the family in which he resided, and are by no means to be attributed to +the harmless pen which reproduces them. + +Byles Gridley, A. M., as he would have been styled by persons acquainted +with scholarly dignities, was a bachelor, who had been a schoolmaster, a +college tutor, and afterwards for many years professor,--a man of +learning, of habits, of whims and crotchets, such as are hardly to be +found, except in old, unmarried students,--the double flowers of college +culture, their stamina all turned to petals, their stock in the life of +the race all funded in the individual. Being a man of letters, Byles +Gridley naturally rather undervalued the literary acquirements of the +good people of the rural district where he resided, and, having known +much of college and something of city life, was apt to smile at the +importance they attached to their little local concerns. He was, of +course, quite as much an object of rough satire to the natural observers +and humorists, who are never wanting in a New England village,--perhaps +not in any village where a score or two of families are brought +together,--enough of them, at any rate, to furnish the ordinary +characters of a real-life stock company. + +The old Master of Arts was a permanent boarder in the house of a very +worthy woman, relict of the late Ammi Hopkins, by courtesy Esquire, whose +handsome monument--in a finished and carefully colored lithograph, +representing a finely shaped urn under a very nicely groomed willow--hung +in her small, well-darkened, and, as it were, monumental parlor. Her +household consisted of herself, her son, nineteen years of age, of whom +more hereafter, and of two small children, twins, left upon her doorstep +when little more than mere marsupial possibilities, taken in for the +night, kept for a week, and always thereafter cherished by the good soul +as her own; also of Miss Susan Posey, aged eighteen, at school at the +"Academy" in another part of the same town, a distant relative, boarding +with her. + +What the old scholar took the village paper for it would be hard to +guess, unless for a reason like that which carried him very regularly to +hear the preaching of the Rev. Joseph Bellamy Stoker, colleague of the +old minister of the village parish; namely, because he did not believe a +word of his favorite doctrines, and liked to go there so as to growl to +himself through the sermon, and go home scolding all the way about it. + +The leading article of the "Banner and Oracle" for June 18th must have +been of superior excellence, for, as Mr. Gridley remarked, several of the +"metropolitan" journals of the date of June 15th and thereabout had +evidently conversed with the writer and borrowed some of his ideas before +he gave them to the public. The Foreign News by the Europa at Halifax, +15th, was spread out in the amplest dimensions the type of the office +could supply. More battles! The Allies victorious! The King and +General Cialdini beat the Austrians at Palestro! 400 Austrians drowned +in a canal! Anti-French feeling in Germany! Allgermine Zeiturg talks of +conquest of Allsatia and Loraine and the occupation of Paris! [Vicious +digs with a pencil through the above proper names.] Race for the Derby +won by Sir Joseph Hawley's Musjid! [That's what England cares for! +Hooray for the Darby! Italy be deedeed!] Visit of Prince Alfred to the +Holy Land. Letter from our, own Correspondent. [Oh! Oh! A West +Minkville?] Cotton advanced. Breadstuffs declining.--Deacon Rumrill's +barn burned down on Saturday night. A pig missing; supposed to have +"fallen a prey to the devouring element." [Got roasted.] A yellow +mineral had been discovered on the Doolittle farm, which, by the report +of those who had seen it, bore a strong resemblance to California gold +ore. Much excitement in the neighborhood in consequence [Idiots! Iron +pyrites!] A hen at Four Corners had just laid an egg measuring 7 by 8 +inches. Fetch on your biddies! [Editorial wit!] A man had shot an eagle +measuring six feet and a half from tip to tip of his wings.--Crops +suffering for want of rain [Always just so. "Dry times, Father Noah!"] +The editors had received a liberal portion of cake from the happy couple +whose matrimonial union was recorded in the column dedicated to Hymen. +Also a superior article of [article of! bah!] steel pen from the +enterprising merchant [shopkeeper] whose advertisement was to be found on +the third page of this paper.--An interesting Surprise Party [cheap +theatricals] had transpired [bah!] on Thursday evening last at the house +of the Rev. Mr. Stoker. The parishioners had donated [donated! GIVE is +a good word enough for the Lord's Prayer. DONATE our daily bread!] a bag +of meal, a bushel of beans, a keg of pickles, and a quintal of salt-fish. +The worthy pastor was much affected, etc., etc. [Of course. Call'em. +SENSATION parties and done with it!] The Rev. Dr. Pemberton and the +venerable Dr. Hurlbut honored the occasion with their presence.--We learn +that the Rev. Ambrose Eveleth, rector of St. Bartholomew's Chapel, has +returned from his journey, and will officiate to-morrow. + +Then came strings of advertisements, with a luxuriant vegetation of +capitals and notes of admiration. More of those PRIME GOODS! Full +Assortments of every Article in our line! [Except the one thing you +want!] Auction Sale. Old furniture, feather-beds, bed-spreads [spreads! +ugh!], setts [setts!] crockery-ware, odd vols., ullage bbls. of this and +that, with other household goods, etc., etc., etc.,--the etceteras +meaning all sorts of insane movables, such as come out of their +bedlam-holes when an antiquated domestic establishment disintegrates +itself at a country "vandoo."--Several announcements of "Feed," whatever +that may be,--not restaurant dinners, anyhow,--also of "Shorts,"--terms +mysterious to city ears as jute and cudbear and gunnybags to such as +drive oxen in the remote interior districts.--Then the marriage column +above alluded to, by the fortunate recipients of the cake. Right +opposite, as if for matrimonial ground-bait, a Notice that Whereas my +wife, Lucretia Babb, has left my bed and board, I will not be +responsible, etc., etc., from this date.--Jacob Penhallow (of the late +firm Wibird and Penhallow) had taken Mr. William Murray Bradshaw into +partnership, and the business of the office would be carried on as usual +under the title Penhallow and Bradshaw, Attorneys at Law. Then came the +standing professional card of Dr. Lemuel Hurlbut and Dr. Fordyce Hurlbut, +the medical patriarch of the town and his son. Following this, hideous +quack advertisements, some of them with the certificates of Honorables, +Esquires, and Clergymen.--Then a cow, strayed or stolen from the +subscriber.--Then the advertisement referred to in our first paragraph: + +MYRTLE HAZARD has been missing from her home in this place since Thursday +morning, June 16th. She is fifteen years old, tall and womanly for her +age, has dark hair and eyes, fresh complexion, regular features, pleasant +smile and voice, but shy with strangers. Her common dress was a black and +white gingham check, straw hat, trimmed with green ribbon. It is feared +she may have come to harm in some way, or be wandering at large in a +state of temporary mental alienation. Any information relating to the +missing child will be gratefully received and properly rewarded by her +afflicted aunt, + +MISS SILENCE WITHERS, Residing at the Withers Homestead, otherwise known +as "The Poplars," in this village. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +GREAT EXCITEMENT + +The publication of the advertisement in the paper brought the village +fever of the last two days to its height. Myrtle Hazard's disappearance +had been pretty well talked round through the immediate neighborhood, but +now that forty-eight hours of search and inquiry had not found her, and +the alarm was so great that the young girl's friends were willing to +advertise her in a public journal, it was clear that the gravest +apprehensions were felt and justified. The paper carried the tidings to +many who had not heard it. Some of the farmers who had been busy all the +week with their fields came into the village in their wagons on Saturday, +and there first learned the news, and saw the paper, and the placards +which were posted up, and listened, open-mouthed, to the whole story. + +Saturday was therefore a day of much agitation in Oxbow Village, and some +stir in the neighboring settlements. Of course there was a great variety +of comment, its character depending very much on the sense, knowledge, +and disposition of the citizens, gossips, and young people who talked +over the painful and mysterious occurrence. + +The Withers Homestead was naturally the chief centre of interest. Nurse +Byloe, an ancient and voluminous woman, who had known the girl when she +was a little bright-eyed child, handed over "the baby" she was holding to +another attendant, and got on her things to go straight up to The +Poplars. She had been holding "the baby" these forty years and more, but +somehow it never got to be more than a month or six weeks old. She +reached The Poplars after much toil and travail. Mistress Fagan, Irish, +house-servant, opened the door, at which Nurse Byloe knocked softly, as +she was in the habit of doing at the doors of those who sent for her. + +"Have you heerd anything yet, Kitty Fagan?" asked Nurse Byloe. + +"Niver a blissed word," said she. "Miss Withers is upstairs with Miss +Bathsheby, a cryin' and a lamentin'. Miss Badlam's in the parlor. The +men has been draggin' the pond. They have n't found not one thing, but +only jest two, and that was the old coffeepot and the gray cat,--it's +them nigger boys hanged her with a string they tied round her neck and +then drownded her." [P. Fagan, Jr., Aet. 14, had a snarl of similar +string in his pocket.] + +Mistress Fagan opened the door of the best parlor. A woman was sitting +there alone, rocking back and forward, and fanning herself with the +blackest of black fans. + +"Nuss Byloe, is that you? Well, to be sure, I'm glad to see you, though +we 're all in trouble. Set right down, Nuss, do. Oh, it's dreadful +times!" + +A handkerchief which was in readiness for any emotional overflow was here +called on for its function. + +Nurse Byloe let herself drop into a flaccid squab chair with one of those +soft cushions, filled with slippery feathers, which feel so fearfully +like a very young infant, or a nest of little kittens, as they flatten +under the subsiding person. + +The woman in the rocking-chair was Miss Cynthia Badlam, second-cousin of +Miss Silence Withers, with whom she had been living as a companion at +intervals for some years. She appeared to be thirty-five years old, more +or less, and looked not badly for that stage of youth, though of course +she might have been handsomer at twenty, as is often the case with women. +She wore a not unbecoming cap; frequent headaches had thinned her locks +somewhat of late years. Features a little too sharp, a keen, gray eye, a +quick and restless glance, which rather avoided being met, gave the +impression that she was a wide-awake, cautious, suspicious, and, very +possibly, crafty person. + +"I could n't help comin'," said Nurse Byloe, "we do so love our +babies,--how can we help it, Miss Badlam?" + +The spinster colored up at the nurse's odd way of using the possessive +pronoun, and dropped her eyes, as was natural on hearing such a speech. + +"I never tended children as you have, Nuss," she said. "But I 've known +Myrtle Hazard ever since she was three years old, and to think she should +have come to such an end,--'The heart is deceitful above all things and +desperately wicked,'"--and she wept. + +"Why, Cynthy Badlam, what do y' mean?" said Nurse Byloe. "Y' don't think +anything dreadful has come o' that child's wild nater, do ye?" + +"Child!" said Cynthia Badlam,--"child enough to wear this very gown I +have got on and not find it too big for her neither." [It would have +pinched Myrtle here and there pretty shrewdly.] + +The two women looked each other in the eyes with subtle interchange of +intelligence, such as belongs to their sex in virtue of its specialty. +Talk without words is half their conversation, just as it is all the +conversation of the lower animals. Only the dull senses of men are dead +to it as to the music of the spheres. + +Their minds travelled along, as if they had been yoked together, through +whole fields of suggestive speculation, until the dumb growths of thought +ripened in both their souls into articulate speech, consentingly, as the +movement comes after the long stillness of a Quaker meeting. + +Their lips opened at the same moment. "You don't mean"--began Nurse +Byloe, but stopped as she heard Miss Badlam also speaking. + +"They need n't drag the pond," she said. "They need n't go beating the +woods as if they were hunting a patridge,--though for that matter Myrtle +Hazard was always more like a patridge than she was like a pullet. +Nothing ever took hold of that girl,--not catechising, nor advising, nor +punishing. It's that dreadful will of hers never was broke. I've always +been afraid that she would turn out a child of wrath. Did y' ever watch +her at meetin' playing with posies and looking round all the time of the +long prayer? That's what I've seen her do many and many a time. I'm +afraid--Oh dear! Miss Byloe, I'm afraid to say--what I'm afraid of. Men +are so wicked, and young girls are full of deceit and so ready to listen +to all sorts of artful creturs that take advantage of their ignorance and +tender years." She wept once more, this time with sobs that seemed +irrepressible. + +"Dear suz!" said the nurse, "I won't believe no sech thing as wickedness +about Myrtle Hazard. You mean she's gone an' run off with some +good-for-nothin' man or other? If that ain't what y' mean, what do y' +mean? It can't be so, Miss Badlam: she's one o' my babies. At any rate, +I handled her when she fust come to this village,--and none o' my babies +never did sech a thing. Fifteen year old, and be bringin' a whole family +into disgrace! If she was thirty year old, or five-an'-thirty or more, +and never'd had a chance to be married, and if one o' them artful creturs +you was talkin' of got hold of her, then, to be sure,--why, dear +me!--law! I never thought, Miss Badlam!--but then of course you could +have had your pickin' and choosin' in the time of it; and I don't mean to +say it's too late now if you felt called that way, for you're better +lookin' now than some that's younger, and there's no accountin' for +tastes." + +A sort of hysteric twitching that went through the frame of Cynthia +Badlam dimly suggested to the old nurse that she was not making her +slightly indiscreet personality much better by her explanations. She +stopped short, and surveyed the not uncomely person of the maiden lady +sitting before her with her handkerchief pressed to her eyes, and one +hand clenching the arm of the reeking-chair, as if some spasm had clamped +it there. The nurse looked at her with a certain growing interest she +had never felt before. It was the first time for some years that she had +had such a chance, partly because Miss Cynthia had often been away for +long periods,--partly because she herself had been busy professionally. +There was no occasion for her services, of course, in the family at The +Poplars; and she was always following round from place to place after +that everlasting migratory six-weeks or less old baby. + +There was not a more knowing pair of eyes, in their way, in a circle of +fifty miles, than those kindly tranquil orbs that Nurse Byloe fixed on +Cynthia Badlam. The silver threads in the side fold of hair, the +delicate lines at the corner of the eye, the slight drawing down at the +angle of the mouth,--almost imperceptible, but the nurse dwelt upon +it,--a certain moulding of the features as of an artist's clay model +worked by delicate touches with the fingers, showing that time or pain or +grief had had a hand in shaping them, the contours, the adjustment of +every fold of the dress, the attitude, the very way of breathing, were +all passed through the searching inspection of the ancient expert, +trained to know all the changes wrought by time and circumstance. It +took not so long as it takes to describe it, but it was an analysis of +imponderables, equal to any of Bunsen's with the spectroscope. + +Miss Badlam removed her handkerchief and looked in a furtive, questioning +way, in her turn, upon the nurse. + +"It's dreadful close here,--I'm 'most smothered," Nurse Byloe said; and, +putting her hand to her throat, unclasped the catch of the necklace of +gold beads she had worn since she was a baby,--a bead having been added +from time to time as she thickened. It lay in a deep groove of her large +neck, and had not troubled her in breathing before, since the day when +her husband was run over by an ox-team. + +At this moment Miss Silence Withers entered, followed by Bathsheba +Stoker, daughter of Rev. Joseph Bellamy Stoker. + +She was the friend of Myrtle, and had come to comfort Miss Silence, and +consult with her as to what further search they should institute. The +two, Myrtle's aunt and her friend, were as unlike as they could well be. +Silence Withers was something more than forty years old, a shadowy, +pinched, sallow, dispirited, bloodless woman, with the habitual look of +the people in the funeral carriage which follows next to the hearse, and +the tone in speaking that may be noticed in a household where one of its +members is lying white and still in a cool, darkened chamber overhead. +Bathsheba Stoker was not called handsome; but she had her mother's +youthful smile, which was so fresh and full of sweetness that she seemed +like a beauty while she was speaking or listening; and she could never be +plain so long as any expression gave life to her features. In perfect +repose, her face, a little prematurely touched by sad experiences,--for +she was but seventeen years old,--had the character and decision stamped +in its outlines which any young man who wanted a companion to warn, to +comfort, and command him, might have depended on as warranting the +courage, the sympathy, and the sense demanded for such a responsibility. +She had been trying her powers of consolation on Miss Silence. It was a +sudden freak of Myrtle's. She had gone off on some foolish but innocent +excursion. Besides, she was a girl that would take care of herself; for +she was afraid of nothing, and nimbler than any boy of her age, and +almost as strong as any. As for thinking any bad thoughts about her, +that was a shame; she cared for none of the young fellows that were round +her. Cyprian Eveleth was the one she thought most of; but Cyprian was as +true as his sister Olive, and who else was there? + +To all this Miss Silence answered only by sighing and moaning, For two +whole days she had been kept in constant fear and worry, afraid every +minute of some tragical message, perplexed by the conflicting advice of +all manner of officious friends, sleepless of course through the two +nights, and now utterly broken down and collapsed. + +Bathsheba had said all she could in the way of consolation, and hastened +back to her mother's bedside, which she hardly left, except for the +briefest of visits. + +"It's a great trial, Miss Withers, that's laid on you," said Nurse Byloe. + +"If I only knew that she was dead, and had died in the Lord," Miss +Silence answered,--"if I only knew that but if she is living in sin, or +dead in wrong--doing, what is to become of me?--Oh, what is to become of +me when 'He maketh inquisition far blood'?" + +"Cousin Silence," said Miss Cynthia, "it is n't your fault, if that young +girl has taken to evil ways. If going to meeting three times every +Sabbath day, and knowing the catechism by heart, and reading of good +books, and the best of daily advice, and all needful discipline, could +have corrected her sinful nature, she would never have run away from a +home where she enjoyed all these privileges. It's that Indian blood, +Cousin Silence. It's a great mercy you and I have n't got any of it in +our veins! What can you expect of children that come from heathens and +savages? You can't lay it to yourself, Cousin Silence, if Myrtle Hazard +goes wrong"-- + +"The Lord will lay it to me,--the Lord will lay it to me," she moaned. +"Did n't he say to Cain, 'Where is Abel, thy brother?'" + +Nurse Byloe was getting very red in the face. She had had about enough +of this talk between the two women. "I hope the Lard 'll take care of +Myrtle Hazard fust, if she's in trouble, 'n' wants help," she said; "'n' +then look out for them that comes next. Y' 're too suspicious, Miss +Badlam; y' 're too easy to believe stories. Myrtle Hazard was as pretty +a child and as good a child as ever I see, if you did n't rile her; 'n' +d' d y' ever see one o' them hearty lively children, that had n't a +sperrit of its own? For my part, I'd rather handle one of 'em than a +dozen o' them little waxy, weak-eyed, slim-necked creturs that always do +what they tell 'em to, and die afore they're a dozen year old; and never +was the time when I've seen Myrtle Hazard, sence she was my baby, but +what it's always been, 'Good mornin', Miss Byloe,' and 'How do you do, +Miss Byloe? I'm so glad to see you.' The handsomest young woman, too, +as all the old folks will agree in tellin' you, s'ence the time o' Judith +Pride that was,--the Pride of the County they used to call her, for her +beauty. Her great-grandma, y' know, Miss Cynthy, married old King David +Withers. What I want to know is, whether anything has been heerd, and +jest what's been done about findin' the poor thing. How d' ye know she +has n't fell into the river? Have they fired cannon? They say that +busts the gall of drownded folks, and makes the corpse rise. Have they +looked in the woods everywhere? Don't believe no wrong of nobody, not +till y' must,--least of all of them that come o' the same folks, partly, +and has lived with yo all their days. I tell y', Myrtle Hazard's jest as +innocent of all what y' 've been thinkin' about,--bless the poor child; +she's got a soul that's as clean and sweet-well, as a pond-lily when it +fust opens of a mornin', without a speck on it no more than on the fust +pond-lily God Almighty ever made!" + +That gave a turn to the two women's thoughts, and their handkerchiefs +went up to their faces. Nurse Byloe turned her eyes quickly on Cynthia +Badlam, and repeated her close inspection of every outline and every +light and shadow in her figure. She did not announce any opinion as to +the age or good looks or general aspect or special points of Miss +Cynthia; but she made a sound which the books write humph! but which real +folks make with closed lips, thus: m'!--a sort of half-suppressed +labio-palato-nasal utterance, implying that there is a good deal which +might be said, and all the vocal organs want to have a chance at it, if +there is to be any talking. + +Friends and neighbors were coming in and out; and the next person that +came was the old minister, of whom, and of his colleague, the Rev. Joseph +Bellamy Stoker, some account may here be introduced. + +The Rev. Eliphalet Pemberton Father Pemberton as brother ministers called +him, Priest Pemberton as he was commonly styled by the country +people--would have seemed very old, if the medical patriarch of the +village had not been so much older. A man over ninety is a great comfort +to all his elderly neighbors: he is a picket-guard at the extreme +outpost; and the young folks of sixty and seventy feel that the enemy +must get by him before he can come near their camp. Dr. Hurlbut, at +ninety-two, made Priest Pemberton seem comparatively little advanced; but +the college catalogue showed that he must be seventy-five years old, if, +as we may suppose, he was twenty at the time of his graduation. + +He was a man of noble presence always, and now, in the grandeur of his +flowing silver hair and with the gray shaggy brows overhanging his serene +and solemn eyes, with the slow gravity of motion and the measured dignity +of speech which gave him the air of an old pontiff, he was an imposing +personage to look upon, and could be awful, if the occasion demanded it. +His creed was of the sternest: he was looked up to as a bulwark against +all the laxities which threatened New England theology. But it was a +creed rather of the study and of the pulpit than of every-day application +among his neighbors. He dealt too much in the lofty abstractions which +had always such fascinations for the higher class of New England divines, +to busy himself as much as he might have done with the spiritual +condition of individuals. He had also a good deal in him of what he used +to call the Old Man, which, as he confessed, he had never succeeded in +putting off,--meaning thereby certain qualities belonging to humanity, as +much as the natural gifts of the dumb creatures belong to them, and +tending to make a man beloved by his weak and erring fellow-mortals. + +In the olden time he would have lived and died king of his parish, +monarch, by Divine right, as the noblest, grandest, wisest of all that +made up the little nation within hearing of his meeting-house bell. But +Young Calvinism has less reverence and more love of novelty than its +forefathers. It wants change, and it loves young blood. Polyandry is +getting to be the normal condition of the Church; and about the time a +man is becoming a little overripe for the livelier human sentiments, he +may be pretty sure the women are looking round to find him a colleague. +In this way it was that the Rev. Joseph Bellamy Stoker became the +colleague of the Rev. Eliphalet Pemberton. + +If one could have dived deep below all the Christian graces--the charity, +the sweetness of disposition, the humility--of Father Pemberton, he would +have found a small remnant of the "Old Man," as the good clergyman would +have called it, which was never in harmony with the Rev. Mr. Stoker. The +younger divine felt his importance, and made his venerable colleague feel +that he felt it. Father Pemberton had a fair chance at rainy Sundays and +hot summer-afternoon services; but the junior pushed him aside without +ceremony whenever he thought there was like to be a good show in the +pews. As for those courtesies which the old need, to soften the sense of +declining faculties and failing attractions, the younger pastor bestowed +them in public, but was negligent of them, to say the least, when not on +exhibition. + +Good old Father Pemberton could not love this man, but he would not hate +him, and he never complained to him or of him. It would have been of no +use if he had: the women of the parish had taken up the Rev. Mr. Stoker; +and when the women run after a minister or a doctor, what do the men +signify? + +Why the women ran after him, some thought it was not hard to guess. He +was not ill-looking, according to the village standard, parted his hair +smoothly, tied his white cravat carefully, was fluent, plausible, had a +gift in prayer, was considered eloquent, was fond of listening to their +spiritual experiences, and had a sickly wife. This is what Byles Gridley +said; but he was apt to be caustic at times. + +Father Pemberton visited his people but rarely. Like Jonathan Edwards, +like David Osgood, he felt his call to be to study-work, and was +impatient of the egotisms and spiritual megrims, in listening to which, +especially from the younger females of his flock, his colleague had won +the hearts of so many of his parishioners. His presence had a wonderful +effect in restoring the despondent Miss Silence to her equanimity; for +not all the hard divinity he had preached for half a century had spoiled +his kindly nature; and not the gentle Melanchthon himself, ready to +welcome death as a refuge from the rage and bitterness of theologians, +was more in contrast with the disputants with whom he mingled, than the +old minister, in the hour of trial, with the stern dogmatist in his +study, forging thunderbolts to smite down sinners. + +It was well that there were no tithing-men about on that next day, +Sunday; for it shone no Sabbath day for the young men within half a dozen +miles of the village. They were out on Bear Hill the whole day, beating +up the bushes as if for game, scaring old crows out of their ragged +nests, and in one dark glen startling a fierce-eyed, growling, bobtailed +catamount, who sat spitting and looking all ready to spring at them, on +the tall tree where he clung with his claws unsheathed, until a young +fellow came up with a gun and shot him dead. They went through and +through the swamp at Musquash Hollow; but found nothing better than a +wicked old snapping-turtle, evil to behold, with his snaky head and +alligator tail, but worse to meddle with, if his horny jaws were near +enough to spring their man-trap on the curious experimenter. At Wood-End +there were some Indians, ill-conditioned savages in a dirty tent, making +baskets, the miracle of which was that they were so clean. They had seen +a young lady answering the description, about a week ago. She had bought +a basket. Asked them if they had a canoe they wanted to sell.--Eyes like +hers (pointing to a squaw with a man's hat on). + +At Pocasset the young men explored all the thick woods,--some who ought +to have known better taking their guns, which made a talk, as one might +well suppose it would. Hunting on a Sabbath day! They did n't mean to +shoot Myrtle Hazard, did they? it was keenly asked. A good many said it +was all nonsense, and a mere excuse to get away from meeting and have a +sort of frolic on pretence that it was a work of necessity and mercy, one +or both. + +While they were scattering themselves about in this way, some in earnest, +some rejoicing in the unwonted license, lifting off for a little while +that enormous Sabbath-day pressure which weighs like forty atmospheres on +every true-born Puritan, two young men had been since Friday in search of +the lost girl, each following a clue of his own, and determined to find +her if she was among the living. + +Cyprian Eveleth made for the village of Mapleton, where his sister Olive +was staying, trusting that, with her aid, he might get a clue to the +mystery of Myrtle's disappearance. + +William Murray Bradshaw struck for a railroad train going to the great +seaport, at a station where it stops for wood and water. + +In the mean time, a third young man, Gifted Hopkins by name, son of the +good woman already mentioned, sat down, with tears in his eyes, and wrote +those touching stanzas, "The Lost Myrtle," which were printed in the next +"Banner and Oracle," and much admired by many who read them. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +ANTECEDENTS. + +The Withers Homestead was the oldest mansion in town. It was built on +the east bank of the river, a little above the curve which gave the name +to Oxbow Village. It stood on an elevation, its west gable close to the +river's edge, an old orchard and a small pond at the foot of the slope +behind it, woods at the east, open to the south, with a great row of +Lombardy poplars standing guard in front of the house. The Hon. Selah +Withers, Esq., a descendant of one of the first colonists, built it for +his own residence, in the early part of the last century. Deeply +impressed with his importance in the order of things, he had chosen to +place it a little removed from the cluster of smaller dwellings about the +Oxbow; and with some vague fancy in his mind of the castles that overlook +the Rhine and the Danube, he had selected this eminence on which to place +his substantial gambrel roofed dwelling-house. Long afterwards a +bay-window, almost a little room of itself, had been thrown out of the +second story on the west side, so that it looked directly down on the +river running beneath it. The chamber, thus half suspended in the air, +had been for years the special apartment of Myrtle Hazard; and as the +boys paddling about on the river would often catch glimpses, through the +window, of the little girl dressed in the scarlet jacket she fancied in +those days, one of them, Cyprian Eveleth had given it a name which became +current among the young people, and indeed furnished to Gifted Hopkins +the subject of one of his earliest poems, to wit, "The Fire-hang-bird's +Nest." + +If we would know anything about the persons now living at the Withers +Homestead, or The Poplars, as it was more commonly called of late years, +we must take a brief inventory of some of their vital antecedents. It is +by no means certain that our individual personality is the single +inhabitant of these our corporeal frames. Nay, there is recorded an +experience of one of the living persons mentioned in this narrative,--to +be given in full in its proper place, which, so far as it is received in +evidence, tends to show that some, at least, who have long been dead, may +enjoy a kind of secondary and imperfect, yet self-conscious life, in +these bodily tenements which we are in the habit of considering +exclusively our own. There are many circumstances, familiar to common +observers, which favor this belief to a certain extent. Thus, at one +moment we detect the look, at another the tone of voice, at another some +characteristic movement of this or that ancestor, in our relations or +others. There are times when our friends do not act like themselves, but +apparently in obedience to some other law than that of their own proper +nature. We all do things both awake and asleep which surprise us. +Perhaps we have cotenants in this house we live in. No less than eight +distinct personalities are said to have coexisted in a single female +mentioned by an ancient physician of unimpeachable authority. In this +light we may perhaps see the meaning of a sentence, from a work which +will be repeatedly referred to in this narrative, viz.: "This body in +which we journey across the isthmus between the two oceans is not a +private carriage, but an omnibus." + +The ancestry of the Withers family had counted a martyr to their faith +before they were known as Puritans. The record was obscure in some +points; but the portrait, marked "Ann Holyoake, burned by ye bloudy +Papists, ano 15.." (figures illegible), was still hanging against the +panel over the fireplace in the west parlor at The Poplars. The +following words were yet legible on the canvas: "Thou hast made a +covenant O Lord with mee and my Children forever." + +The story had come down, that Ann Holyoake spoke these words in a prayer +she offered up at the stake, after the fagots were kindled. There had +always been a secret feeling in the family, that none of her descendants +could finally fall from grace, in virtue of this solemn "covenant." + +There had been also a legend in the family, that the martyred woman's +spirit exercised a kind of supervision over her descendants; that she +either manifested herself to them, or in some way impressed them, from +time to time; as in the case of the first pilgrim before he cast his lot +with the emigrants,--of one Mrs. Winslow, a descendant in the third +generation, when the Indians were about to attack the settlement where +she lived,--and of another, just before he was killed at Quebec. + +There was a remarkable resemblance between the features of Ann Holyoake, +as shown in the portrait, and the miniature likeness of Myrtle's mother. +Myrtle adopted the nearly obsolete superstition more readily on this +account, and loved to cherish the fancy that the guardian spirit which +had watched over her ancestors was often near her, and would be with her +in her time of need. + +The wife of Selah Withers was accused of sorcery in the evil days of that +delusion. A careless expression in one of her letters, that "ye Parson +was as lyke to bee in league with ye Divell as anie of em," had got +abroad, and given great offence to godly people. There was no doubt that +some odd "manifestations," as they would be called nowadays, had taken +place in the household when she was a girl, and that she presented many +of the conditions belonging to what are at the present day called +mediums. + +Major Gideon Withers, her son, was of the very common type of hearty, +loud, portly men, who like to show themselves at militia trainings, and +to hear themselves shout orders at musters, or declaim patriotic +sentiments at town-meetings and in the General Court. He loved to wear a +crimson sash and a military cap with a large red feather, in which the +village folk used to say he looked as "hahnsome as a piny,"--meaning a +favorite flower of his, which is better spelt peony, and to which it was +not unnatural that his admirers should compare him. + +If he had married a wife like himself, there might probably enough have +sprung from the alliance a family of moon-faced children, who would have +dropped into their places like posts into their holes, asking no +questions of life, contented, like so many other honest folks, with the +part of supernumeraries in the drama of being, their wardrobe of flesh +and bones being furnished them gratis, and nothing to do but to walk +across the stage wearing it. But Major Gideon Withers, for some reason +or other, married a slender, sensitive, nervous, romantic woman, which +accounted for the fact that his son David, "King David," as he was called +in his time, had a very different set of tastes from his father, showing +a turn for literature and sentiment in his youth, reading Young's "Night +Thoughts," and Thomson's "Seasons," and sometimes in those early days +writing verses himself to Celia or to Chloe, which sounded just as fine +to him as Effie and Minnie sound to young people now, as Musidora, as +Saccharissa, as Lesbia, as Helena, as Adah and Zillah, have all sounded +to young people in their time,--ashes of roses as they are to us now, and +as our endearing Scotch diminutives will be to others by and by. + +King David Withers, who got his royal prefix partly because he was rich, +and partly because he wrote hymns occasionally, when he grew too old to +write love-poems, married the famous beauty before mentioned, Miss Judith +Pride, and the race came up again in vigor. Their son, Jeremy, took for +his first wife a delicate, melancholic girl, who matured into a sad-eyed +woman, and bore him two children, Malachi and Silence. + +When she died, he mourned for her bitterly almost a year, and then put on +a ruffled shirt and went across the river to tell his grief to Miss +Virginia Wild, there residing. This lady was said to have a few drops of +genuine aboriginal blood in her veins; and it is certain that her cheek +had a little of the russet tinge which a Seckel pear shows on its warmest +cheek when it blushes.--Love shuts itself up in sympathy like a +knife-blade in its handle, and opens as easily. All the rest followed in +due order according to Nature's kindly programme. + +Captain Charles Hazard, of the ship Orient Pearl, fell desperately in +love with the daughter of this second wife, married her, and carried her +to India, where their first and only child was born, and received the +name of Myrtle, as fitting her cradle in the tropics. So her earliest +impressions,--it would not be exact to call them recollections,--besides +the smiles of her father and mother, were of dusky faces, of loose white +raiment, of waving fans, of breezes perfumed with the sweet exhalations +of sandal-wood, of gorgeous flowers and glowing fruit, of shady verandas, +of gliding palanquins, and all the languid luxury of the South. The +pestilence which has its natural home in India, but has journeyed so far +from its birth place in these later years, took her father and mother +away, suddenly, in the very freshness of their early maturity. A +relation of Myrtle's father, wife of another captain, was returning to +America on a visit, and the child was sent back, under her care, while +still a mere infant, to her relatives at the old homestead. During the +long voyage, the strange mystery of the ocean was wrought into her +consciousness so deeply, that it seemed to have become a part of her +being. The waves rocked her, as if the sea had been her mother; and, +looking over the vessel's side from the arms that held her with tender +care, she used to watch the play of the waters, until the rhythm of their +movement became a part of her, almost as much as her own pulse and +breath. + +The instincts and qualities belonging to the ancestral traits which +predominated in the conflict of mingled lives lay in this child in +embryo, waiting to come to maturity. It was as when several grafts, +bearing fruit that ripens at different times, are growing upon the same +stock. Her earlier impulses may have been derived directly from her +father and mother, but all the ancestors who have been mentioned, and +more or less obscurely many others, came uppermost in their time, before +the absolute and total result of their several forces had found its +equilibrium in the character by which she was to be known as an +individual. These inherited impulses were therefore many, conflicting, +some of them dangerous. The World, the Flesh, and the Devil held +mortgages on her life before its deed was put in her hands; but sweet and +gracious influences were also born with her; and the battle of life was +to be fought between them, God helping her in her need, and her own free +choice siding with one or the other. The formal statement of this +succession of ripening characteristics need not be repeated, but the fact +must be borne in mind. + +This was the child who was delivered into the hands of Miss Silence +Withers, her mother's half--sister, keeping house with her brother +Malachi, a bachelor, already called Old Malachi, though hardly entitled +by his years to such a venerable prefix. Both these persons had +inherited the predominant traits of their sad-eyed mother. Malachi, the +chief heir of the family property, was rich, but felt very poor. He +owned this fine old estate of some hundreds of acres. He had moneys in +the bank, shares in various companies, wood-lots in the town; and a large +tract of Western land, the subject of a lawsuit which seemed as if it +would never be settled, and kept him always uneasy. + +Some said he hoarded gold somewhere about the old house, but nobody knew +this for a certainty. In spite of his abundant means, he talked much of +poverty, and kept the household on the narrowest footing of economy. One +Irishwoman, with a little aid from her husband now and then, did all +their work; and the only company they saw was Miss Cynthia Badlam, who, +as a relative, claimed a home with them whenever she was so disposed. + +The "little Indian," as Malachi called her, was an awkward accession to +the family. Silence Withers knew no more about children and their ways +and wants than if she had been a female ostrich. Thus it was that she +found it necessary to send for a woman well known in the place as the +first friend whose acquaintance many of the little people of the town had +made in this vale of tears. + +Thirty years of practice had taught Nurse Byloe the art of handling the +young of her species with the soft firmness which one may notice in cats +with their kittens,--more grandly in a tawny lioness mouthing her cubs. +Myrtle did not know she was held; she only felt she was lifted, and borne +up, as a cherub may feel upon a white-woolly cloud, and smiled +accordingly at the nurse, as if quite at home in her arms. + +"As fine a child as ever breathed the breath of life. But where did them +black eyes come from? Born in Injy,--that 's it, ain't it? No, it's her +poor mother's eyes to be sure. Does n't it seem as if there was a kind +of Injin look to 'em? She'll be a lively one to manage, if I know +anything about childun. See her clinchin' them little fists!" + +This was when Miss Silence came near her and brought her rather severe +countenance close to the child for inspection of its features. The +ungracious aspect of the woman and the defiant attitude of the child +prefigured in one brief instant the history of many long coming years. + +It was not a great while before the two parties in that wearing conflict +of alien lives, which is often called education, began to measure their +strength against each other. The child was bright, observing, of +restless activity, inquisitively curious, very hard to frighten, and with +a will which seemed made for mastery, not submission. + +The stern spinster to whose care this vigorous life was committed was +disposed to discharge her duty to the girl faithfully and +conscientiously; but there were two points in her character and belief +which had a most important bearing on the manner in which she carried out +her laudable intentions. First, she was one of that class of human +beings whose one single engrossing thought is their own welfare,--in the +next world, it is true, but still their own personal welfare. The Roman +Church recognizes this class, and provides every form of specific to meet +their spiritual condition. But in so far as Protestantism has thrown out +works as a means of insuring future safety, these unfortunates are as +badly off as nervous patients who have no drops, pills, potions, no +doctors' rules, to follow. Only tell a poor creature what to do, and he +or she will do it, and be made easy, were it a pilgrimage of a thousand +miles, with shoes full of split peas instead of boiled ones; but if once +assured that doing does no good, the drooping Little-faiths are left at +leisure to worry about their souls, as the other class of weaklings worry +about their bodies. The effect on character does not seem to be very +different in the two classes. Metaphysicians may discuss the nature of +selfishness at their leisure; if to have all her thoughts centring on the +one point of her own well-being by and by was selfishness, then Silence +Withers was supremely selfish; and if we are offended with that form of +egotism, it is no more than ten of the twelve Apostles were, as the +reader may see by turning to the Gospel of St. Matthew, the twentieth +chapter and the twenty-fourth verse. + +The next practical difficulty was, that she attempted to carry out a +theory which, whatever might be its success in other cases, did not work +kindly in the case of Myrtle Hazard, but, on the contrary, developed a +mighty spirit of antagonism in her nature, which threatened to end in +utter lawlessness. Miss Silence started from the approved doctrine, that +all children are radically and utterly wrong in all their motives, +feelings, thoughts, and deeds, so long as they remain subject to their +natural instincts. It was by the eradication, and not the education, of +these instincts, that the character of the human being she was moulding +was to be determined. The first great preliminary process, so soon as the +child manifested any evidence of intelligent and persistent +self-determination, was to break her will. + +There is no doubt that this was a legitimate conclusion from the teaching +of Priest Pemberton, but it required a colder and harder nature than his +own to carry out many of his dogmas to their practical application. He +wrought in the pure mathematics, so to speak, of theology, and left the +working rules to the good sense and good feeling of his people. + +Miss Silence had been waiting for her opportunity to apply the great +doctrine, and it came at last in a very trivial way. + +"Myrtle does n't want brown bread. Myrtle won't have brown bread. Myrtle +will have white bread." + +"Myrtle is a wicked child. She will have what Aunt Silence says she +shall have. She won't have anything but brown bread." + +Thereupon the bright red lip protruded, the hot blood mounted to her +face, the child untied her little "tire," got down from the table, took +up her one forlorn, featureless doll, and went to bed without her supper. +The next morning the worthy woman thought that hunger and reflection +would have subdued the rebellious spirit. So there stood yesterday's +untouched supper waiting for her breakfast. She would not taste it, and +it became necessary to enforce that extreme penalty of the law which had +been threatened, but never yet put in execution. Miss Silence, in +obedience to what she felt to be a painful duty, without any passion, but +filled with high, inexorable purpose, carried the child up to the garret, +and, fastening her so that she could not wander about and hurt herself, +left her to her repentant thoughts, awaiting the moment when a plaintive +entreaty for liberty and food should announce that the evil nature had +yielded and the obdurate will was broken. + +The garret was an awful place. All the skeleton-like ribs of the roof +showed in the dim light, naked overhead, and the only floor to be trusted +consisted of the few boards which bridged the lath and plaster. A great, +mysterious brick tower climbed up through it,--it was the chimney, but it +looked like a horrible cell to put criminals into. The whole place was +festooned with cobwebs,--not light films, such as the housewife's broom +sweeps away before they have become a permanent residence, but vast gray +draperies, loaded with dust, sprinkled with yellow powder from the beams +where the worms were gnawing day and night, the home of old, hairy +spiders who had, lived there since they were eggs and would leave it for +unborn spiders who would grow old and huge like themselves in it, long +after the human tenants had left the mansion for a narrower home. Here +this little criminal was imprisoned, six, twelve,--tell it not to +mothers,--eighteen dreadful hours, hungry until she was ready to gnaw her +hands, a prey to all childish imaginations; and here at her stern +guardian's last visit she sat, pallid, chilled, almost fainting, but +sullen and unsubdued. The Irishwoman, poor stupid Kitty Fagan, who had +no theory of human nature, saw her over the lean shoulders of the +spinster, and, forgetting all differences of condition and questions of +authority, rushed to her with a cry of maternal tenderness, and, with a +tempest of passionate tears and kisses, bore her off to her own humble +realm, where the little victorious martyr was fed from the best stores of +the house, until there was as much danger from repletion as there had +been from famine. How the experiment might have ended but for this +empirical and most unphilosophical interference, there is no saying; but +it settled the point that the rebellious nature was not to be subjugated +in a brief conflict. + +The untamed disposition manifested itself in greater enormities as she +grew older. At the age of four years she was detected in making a +cat's-cradle at meeting, during sermon-time, and, on being reprimanded +for so doing, laughed out loud, so as to be heard by Father Pemberton, +who thereupon bent his threatening, shaggy brows upon the child, and, to +his shame be it spoken, had such a sudden uprising of weak, foolish, +grandfatherly feelings, that a mist came over his eyes, and he left out +his "ninthly" altogether, thereby spoiling the logical sequence of +propositions which had kept his large forehead knotty for a week. + +At eight years old she fell in love with the high-colored picture of +Major Gideon Withers in the crimson sash and the red feather of his +exalted military office. It was then for the first time that her aunt +Silence remarked a shade of resemblance between the child and the +portrait. She had always, up to this time, been dressed in sad colors, +as was fitting, doubtless, for a forlorn orphan; but happening one day to +see a small negro girl peacocking round in a flaming scarlet petticoat, +she struck for bright colors in her own apparel, and carried her point at +last. It was as if a ground-sparrow had changed her gray feathers for +the burning plumage of some tropical wanderer; and it was natural enough +that Cyprian Eveleth should have called her the fire-hang-bird, and her +little chamber the fire-hang-bird's nest,--using the country boy's +synonyme for the Baltimore oriole. + +At ten years old she had one of those great experiences which give new +meaning to the life of a child. + +Her uncle Malachi had seemed to have a strong liking for her at one time, +but of late years his delusions had gained upon him, and under their +influence he seemed to regard her as an encumbrance and an extravagance. +He was growing more and more solitary in his habits, more and more +negligent of his appearance. He was up late at night, wandering about +the house from the cellar to the garret, so that, his light being seen +flitting from window to window, the story got about that the old house +was haunted. + +One dreary, rainy Friday in November, Myrtle was left alone in the house. +Her uncle had been gone since the day before. The two women were both +away at the village. At such times the child took a strange delight in +exploring all the hiding-places of the old mansion. She had the +mysterious dwelling-place of so many of the dead and the living all to +herself. What a fearful kind of pleasure in its silence and loneliness! +The old clock that Marmaduke Storr made in London more than a hundred +years ago was clicking the steady pulse-beats of its second century. The +featured moon on its dial had lifted one eye, as if to watch the child, +as it had watched so many generations of children, while the swinging +pendulum ticked them along into youth, maturity, gray hairs, +deathbeds,--ticking through the prayer at the funeral, ticking without +grief through all the still or noisy woe of mourning,--ticking without +joy when the smiles and gayety of comforted heirs had come back again. +She looked at herself in the tall, bevelled mirror in the best chamber. +She pulled aside the curtains of the stately bedstead whereon the heads +of the house had slept until they died and were stretched out upon it, +and the sheet shaped itself to them in vague, awful breadth of outline, +like a block of monumental marble the sculptor leaves just hinted by the +chisel. + +She groped her way up to the dim garret, the scene of her memorable +punishment. A rusty hook projected from one of the joists a little +higher than a man's head. Something was hanging from it,--an old +garment, was it? She went bravely up and touched--a cold hand. She did +what most children of that age would do,--uttered a cry and ran +downstairs with all her might. She rushed out of the door and called to +the man Patrick, who was doing some work about the place. What could be +done was done, but it was too late. + +Uncle Malachi had made away with himself. That was plain on the face of +thing. In due time the coroner's verdict settled it. It was not so +strange as it seemed; but it made a great talk in the village and all the +country round about. Everybody knew he had money enough, and yet he had +hanged himself for fear of starving to death. + +For all that, he was found to have left a will, dated some years before, +leaving his property to his sister Silence, with the exception of a +certain moderate legacy to be paid in money to Myrtle Hazard when she +should arrive at the age of twenty years. + +The household seemed more chilly than ever after this tragical event. Its +depressing influence followed the child to school, where she learned the +common branches of knowledge. It followed her to the Sabbath-day +catechisings, where she repeated the answers about the federal headship +of Adam, and her consequent personal responsibilities, and other +technicalities which are hardly milk for babes, perhaps as well as other +children, but without any very profound remorse for what she could not +help, so far as she understood the matter, any more than her sex or +stature, and with no very clear comprehension of the phrases which the +New England followers of the Westminster divines made a part of the +elementary instruction of young people. + +At twelve years old she had grown tall and womanly enough to attract the +eyes of the youth and older boys, several of whom made advances towards +her acquaintance. But the dreary discipline of the household had sunk +into her soul, and she had been shaping an internal life for herself, +which it was hard for friendship to penetrate. Bathsheba Stoker was +chained to the bedside of an invalid mother. Olive Eveleth, a kind, +true-hearted girl, belonged to another religious communion; and this +tended to render their meetings less frequent, though Olive was still her +nearest friend. Cyprian was himself a little shy, and rather held to +Myrtle through his sister than by any true intimacy directly with +herself. Of the other young men of the village Gifted Hopkins was +perhaps the most fervent of her admirers, as he had repeatedly shown by +effusions in verse, of which, under the thinnest of disguises, she was +the object. + +William Murray Bradshaw, ten years older than herself, a young man of +striking aspect and claims to exceptional ability, had kept his eye on +her of late; but it was generally supposed that he would find a wife in +the city, where he was in the habit of going to visit a fashionable +relative, Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, of 24 Carat Place. She, at any rate, +understood very well that he meant, to use his own phrase, "to go in for +a corner lot,"--understanding thereby a young lady with possessions and +without encumbrances. If the old man had only given his money to Myrtle, +William Murray Bradshaw would have made sure of her; but she was not +likely ever to get much of it. Miss Silence Withers, it was understood, +would probably leave her money as the Rev. Mr. Stoker, her spiritual +director, should indicate, and it seemed likely that most of it would go +to a rising educational institution where certain given doctrines were to +be taught through all time, whether disproved or not, and whether those +who taught them believed them or not, provided only they would say they +believed them. + +Nobody had promised to say masses for her soul if she made this +disposition of her property, or pledged the word of the Church that she +should have plenary absolution. But she felt that she would be making +friends in Influential Quarters by thus laying up her treasure, and that +she would be safe if she had the good-will of the ministers of her sect. + +Myrtle Hazard had nearly reached the age of fourteen, and, though not +like to inherit much of the family property, was fast growing into a +large dower of hereditary beauty. Always handsome, her features shaped +themselves in a finer symmetry, her color grew richer, her figure +promised a perfect womanly development, and her movements had the grace +which high-breeding gives the daughter of a queen, and which Nature now +and then teaches the humblest of village maidens. She could not long +escape the notice of the lovers and flatterers of beauty, and the time of +danger was drawing near. + +At this period of her life she made two discoveries which changed the +whole course of her thoughts, and opened for her a new world of ideas and +possibilities. + +Ever since the dreadful event of November, 1854, the garret had been a +fearful place to think of, and still more to visit. The stories that the +house was haunted gained in frequency of repetition and detail of +circumstance. But Myrtle was bold and inquisitive, and explored its +recesses at such times as she could creep among them undisturbed. Hid +away close under the eaves she found an old trunk covered with dust and +cobwebs. The mice had gnawed through its leather hinges, and, as it had +been hastily stuffed full, the cover had risen, and two or three volumes +had fallen to the floor. This trunk held the papers and books which her +great-grandmother, the famous beauty, had left behind her, records of the +romantic days when she was the belle of the county,--storybooks, memoirs, +novels, and poems, and not a few love-letters,--a strange collection, +which, as so often happens with such deposits in old families, nobody had +cared to meddle with, and nobody had been willing to destroy, until at +last they had passed out of mind, and waited for a new generation to +bring them into light again. + +The other discovery was of a small hoard of coin. Under one of the +boards which formed the imperfect flooring of the garret was hidden an +old leather mitten. Instead of a hand, it had a fat fist of silver +dollars, and a thumb of gold half-eagles. + +Thus knowledge and power found their way to the simple and secluded +maiden. The books were hers to read as much as any other's; the gold and +silver were only a part of that small provision which would be hers by +and by, and if she borrowed it, it was borrowing of herself. The tree of +the knowledge of good and evil had shaken its fruit into her lap, and, +without any serpent to tempt her, she took thereof and did eat. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +BYLES GRIDLEY, A. M. + +The old Master of Arts was as notable a man in his outside presentment as +one will find among five hundred college alumni as they file in +procession. His strong, squared features, his formidable scowl, his +solid-looking head, his iron-gray hair, his positive and as it were +categorical stride, his slow, precise way of putting a statement, the +strange union of trampling radicalism in some directions and +high-stepping conservatism in others, which made it impossible to +calculate on his unexpressed opinions, his testy ways and his generous +impulses, his hard judgments and kindly actions, were characteristics +that gave him a very decided individuality. + +He had all the aspects of a man of books. His study, which was the best +room in Mrs. Hopkins's house, was filled with a miscellaneous-looking +collection of volumes, which his curious literary taste had got together +from the shelves of all the libraries that had been broken up during his +long life as a scholar. Classics, theology, especially of the +controversial sort, statistics, politics, law, medicine, science, occult +and overt, general literature,--almost every branch of knowledge was +represented. His learning was very various, and of course mixed up, +useful and useless, new and ancient, dogmatic and rational,--like his +library, in short; for a library gathered like his is a looking-glass in +which the owner's mind is reflected. + +The common people about the village did not know what to make of such a +phenomenon. He did not preach, marry, christen, or bury, like the +ministers, nor jog around with medicines for sick folks, nor carry cases +into court for quarrelsome neighbors. What was he good for? Not a great +deal, some of the wiseacres thought,--had "all sorts of sense but common +sense,"--"smart mahn, but not prahctical." There were others who read +him more shrewdly. He knowed more, they said, than all the ministers put +together, and if he'd stan' for Ripresentative they 'd like to vote for +him,--they hed n't hed a smart mahn in the Gineral Court sence Squire +Wibird was thar. + +They may have overdone the matter in comparing his knowledge with that of +all the ministers together, for Priest Pemberton was a real scholar in +his special line of study,--as all D. D.'s are supposed to be, or they +would not have been honored with that distinguished title. But Mr. Byles +Gridley not only had more learning than the deep-sea line of the bucolic +intelligence could fathom; he had more wisdom also than they gave him +credit for, even those among them who thought most of his abilities. + +In his capacity of schoolmaster he had sharpened his wits against those +of the lively city boys he had in charge, and made such a reputation as +"Master" Gridley, that he kept that title even after he had become a +college tutor and professor. As a tutor he had to deal with many of +these same boys, and others like them, in the still more vivacious period +of their early college life. He got rid of his police duties when he +became a professor, but he still studied the pupils as carefully as he +used once to watch them, and learned to read character with a skill which +might have fitted him for governing men instead of adolescents. But he +loved quiet and he dreaded mingling with the brawlers of the +market-place, whose stock in trade is a voice and a vocabulary. So it +was that he had passed his life in the patient mechanical labor of +instruction, leaving too many of his instincts and faculties in abeyance. + +The alluvium of all this experience bore a nearer resemblance to worldly +wisdom than might have been conjectured; much nearer, indeed, than it +does in many old instructors, whose eyes get fish-like as their blood +grows cold, and who are not fit to be trusted with anything more +practical than a gerund or a cosine. Master Gridley not only knew a good +deal of human nature, but he knew how to keep his knowledge to himself +upon occasion. He understood singularly well the ways and tendencies of +young people. He was shrewd in the detection of trickery, and very +confident in those who had once passed the ordeal of his well-schooled +observing powers. He had no particular tendency to meddle with the +personal relations of those about him; but if they were forced upon him +in any way, he was like to see into them at least as quickly as any of +his neighbors who thought themselves most endowed with practical skill. + +In leaving the duties of his office he considered himself, as he said a +little despondently, like an old horse unharnessed and turned out to +pasture. He felt that he had separated himself from human interests, and +was henceforth to live in his books with the dead, until he should be +numbered with them himself. He had chosen this quiet village as a place +where he might pass his days undisturbed, and find a peaceful +resting-place in its churchyard, where the gravel was dry, and the sun +lay warm, and the glowing woods of autumn would spread their many-colored +counterpane over the bed where he would be taking his rest. It sometimes +came over him painfully that he was never more to be of any importance to +his fellow-creatures. There was nobody living to whom he was connected +by any very near ties. He felt kindly enough to the good woman in whose +house he lived; he sometimes gave a few words of counsel to her son; he +was not unamiable with the few people he met; he bowed with great +consideration to the Rev. Dr. Pemberton; and he studied with no small +interest the physiognomy of the Rev. Joseph Bellamy Stoker, to whose +sermons he listened, with a black scowl now and then, and a nostril +dilating with ominous intensity of meaning. But he said sadly to +himself, that his life had been a failure,--that he had nothing to show +for it, and his one talent was ready in its napkin to give back to his +Lord. + +He owed something of this sadness, perhaps, to a cause which many would +hold of small significance. Though he had mourned for no lost love, at +least so far as was known, though he had never suffered the pang of +parting with a child, though he seemed isolated from those joys and +griefs which come with the ties of family, he too had his private urn +filled with the ashes of extinguished hopes. He was the father of a dead +book. + +Why "Thoughts on the Universe, by Byles Gridley, A. M.," had not met with +an eager welcome and a permanent demand from the discriminating public, +it would take us too long to inquire in detail. Indeed; he himself was +never able to account satisfactorily for the state of things which his +bookseller's account made evident to him. He had read and re-read his +work; and the more familiar he became with it, the less was he able to +understand the singular want of popular appreciation of what he could not +help recognizing as its excellences. He had a special copy of his work, +printed on large paper and sumptuously bound. He loved to read in this, +as people read over the letters of friends who have long been dead; and +it might have awakened a feeling of something far removed from the +ludicrous, if his comments on his own production could have been heard. +"That's a thought, now, for you!--See Mr. Thomas Babington Macaulay's +Essay printed six years after thus book." "A felicitous image! and so +everybody would have said if only Mr. Thomas Carlyle had hit upon it." +"If this is not genuine pathos, where will you find it, I should like to +know? And nobody to open the book where it stands written but one poor +old man--in this generation, at least--in this generation!" It may be +doubted whether he would ever have loved his book with such jealous +fondness if it had gone through a dozen editions, and everybody was +quoting it to his face. But now it lived only for him; and to him it was +wife and child, parent, friend, all in one, as Hector was all in all to +his spouse. He never tired of it, and in his more sanguine moods he +looked forward to the time when the world would acknowledge its merits, +and his genius would find full recognition. Perhaps he was right: more +than one book which seemed dead and was dead for contemporary readers has +had a resurrection when the rivals who triumphed over it lived only in +the tombstone memory of antiquaries. Comfort for some of us, dear +fellow-writer. + +It followed from the way in which he lived that he must have some means +of support upon which he could depend. He was economical, if not over +frugal in some of his habits; but he bought books, and took newspapers +and reviews, and had money when money was needed; the fact being, though +it was not generally known, that a distant relative had not long before +died, leaving him a very comfortable property. + +His money matters had led him to have occasional dealings with the late +legal firm of Wibird and Penhallow, which had naturally passed into the +hands of the new partnership, Penhallow and Bradshaw. He had entire +confidence in the senior partner, but not so much in the young man who +had been recently associated in the business. + +Mr. William Murray Bradshaw, commonly called by his last two names, was +the son of a lawyer of some note for his acuteness, who marked out his +calling for him in having him named after the great Lord Mansfield. +Murray Bradshaw was about twenty-five years old, by common consent +good-looking, with a finely formed head, a searching eye, and a sharp-cut +mouth, which smiled at his bidding without the slightest reference to the +real condition of his feeling at the moment. This was a great +convenience; for it gave him an appearance of good-nature at the small +expense of a slight muscular movement which was as easy as winking, and +deceived everybody but those who had studied him long and carefully +enough to find that this play of his features was what a watch maker +would call a detached movement. + +He had been a good scholar in college, not so much by hard study as by +skilful veneering, and had taken great pains to stand well with the +Faculty, at least one of whom, Byles Gridley, A. M., had watched him with +no little interest as a man with a promising future, provided he were not +so astute as to outwit and overreach himself in his excess of +contrivance. His classmates could not help liking him; as to loving him, +none of them would have thought of that. He was so shrewd, so keen, so +full of practical sense, and so good-humored as long as things went on to +his liking, that few could resist his fascination. He had a way of +talking with people about what they were interested in, as if it were the +one matter in the world nearest to his heart. But he was commonly trying +to find out something, or to produce some impression, as a juggler is +working at his miracle while he keeps people's attention by his voluble +discourse and make-believe movements. In his lightest talk he was almost +always edging towards a practical object, and it was an interesting and +instructive amusement to watch for the moment at which he would ship the +belt of his colloquial machinery on to the tight pulley. It was done so +easily and naturally that there was hardly a sign of it. Master Gridley +could usually detect the shifting action, but the young man's features +and voice never betrayed him. + +He was a favorite with the other sex, who love poetry and romance, as he +well knew, for which reason he often used the phrases of both, and in +such a way as to answer his purpose with most of those whom he wished to +please. He had one great advantage in the sweepstakes of life: he was +not handicapped with any burdensome ideals. He took everything at its +marked value. He accepted the standard of the street as a final fact for +to-day, like the broker's list of prices. + +His whole plan of life was laid out. He knew that law was the best +introduction to political life, and he meant to use it for this end. He +chose to begin his career in the country, so as to feel his way more +surely and gradually to its ultimate aim; but he had no intention of +burning his shining talents in a grazing district, however tall its grass +might grow. His business was not with these stiff-jointed, slow-witted +graziers, but with the supple, dangerous, far-seeing men who sit scheming +by the gas-light in the great cities, after all the lamps and candles are +out from the Merrimac to the Housatonic. Every strong and every weak +point of those who might probably be his rivals were laid down on his +charts, as winds and currents and rocks are marked on those of a +navigator. All the young girls in the country, and not a few in the +city, with which, as mentioned, he had frequent relations, were on his +list of possible availabilities in the matrimonial line of speculation, +provided always that their position and prospects were such as would make +them proper matches for so considerable a person as the future Hon. +William Murray Bradshaw. + +Master Gridley had made a careful study of his old pupil since they had +resided in the same village. The old professor could not help admiring +him, notwithstanding certain suspicious elements in his character; for +after muddy village talk, a clear stream of intelligent conversation was +a great luxury to the hard-headed scholar. The more he saw of him, the +more he learned to watch his movements, and to be on his guard in talking +with him. The old man could be crafty, with all his simplicity, and he +had found out that under his good-natured manner there often lurked some +design more or less worth noting, and which might involve other interests +deserving protection. + +For some reason or other the old Master of Arts had of late experienced a +certain degree of relenting with regard to himself, probably brought +about by the expressions of gratitude from worthy Mrs. Hopkins for acts +of kindness to which he himself attached no great value. He had been +kind to her son Gifted; he had been fatherly with Susan Posey, her +relative and boarder; and he had shown himself singularly and +unexpectedly amiable with the little twins who had been adopted by the +good woman into her household. In fact, ever since these little +creatures had begun to toddle about and explode their first consonants, +he had looked through his great round spectacles upon them with a decided +interest; and from that time it seemed as if some of the human and social +sentiments which had never leafed or flowered in him, for want of their +natural sunshine, had begun growing up from roots which had never lost +their life. His liking for the twins may have been an illustration of +that singular law which old Dr. Hurlbut used to lay down, namely, that at +a certain period of life, say from fifty to sixty and upward, the +grand-paternal instinct awakens in bachelors, the rhythms of Nature +reaching them in spite of her defeated intentions; so that when men marry +late they love their autumn child with a twofold affection,--father's and +grandfather's both in one. + +However this may be, there is no doubt that Mr. Byles Gridley was +beginning to take a part in his neighbors' welfare and misfortunes, such +as could hardly have been expected of a man so long lost in his books and +his scholastic duties. And among others, Myrtle Hazard had come in for a +share of his interest. He had met her now and then in her walks to and +from school and meeting, and had been taken with her beauty and her +apparent unconsciousness of it, which he attributed to the forlorn kind +of household in which she had grown up. He had got so far as to talk +with her now and then, and found himself puzzled, as well he might be, in +talking with a girl who had been growing into her early maturity in +antagonism with every influence that surrounded her. + +"Love will reach her by and by," he said, "in spite of the dragons up at +the den yonder. + + "'Centum fronte oculos, centum cervice gerebat + Argus, et hos unus saepe fefellit amor.'" + +But there was something about Myrtle,--he hardly knew whether to call it +dignity, or pride, or reserve, or the mere habit of holding back brought +about by the system of repression under which she had been +educated,--which kept even the old Master of Arts at his distance. Yet he +was strongly drawn to her, and had a sort of presentiment that he might +be able to help her some day, and that very probably she would want his +help; for she was alone in the world, except for the dragons, and sure to +be assailed by foes from without and from within. + +He noticed that her name was apt to come up in his conversations with +Murray Bradshaw; and, as he himself never introduced it, of course the +young man must have forced it, as conjurers force a card, and with some +special object. This set him thinking hard; and, as a result of it, he +determined the next time Mr. Bradshaw brought her name up to set him +talking. + +So he talked, not suspecting how carefully the old man listened. + +"It was a demonish hard case," he said, "that old Malachi had left his +money as he did. Myrtle Hazard was going to be the handsomest girl +about, when she came to her beauty, and she was coming to it mighty fast. +If they could only break that will, but it was no use trying. The +doctors said he was of sound mind for at least two years after making it. +If Silence Withers got the land claim, there'd be a pile, sure enough. +Myrtle Hazard ought to have it. If the girl had only inherited that +property--whew? She'd have been a match for any fellow. That old +Silence Withers would do just as her minister told her,--even chance +whether she gives it to the Parson-factory, or marries Bellamy Stoker, +and gives it to him after his wife's dead. He'd take it if he had to take +her with it. Earn his money, hey, Master Gridley?" + +"Why, you don't seem to think very well of the Rev. Joseph Bellamy +Stoker?" said Mr. Gridley, smiling. + +"Think well of him? Too fond of using the Devil's pitchfork for my +fancy! Forks over pretty much all the world but himself and his lot +into--the bad place, you know; and toasts his own cheese with it with +very much the same kind of comfort that other folks seem to take in that +business. Besides, he has a weakness for pretty saints--and sinners. +That's an odd name he has. More belle amie than Joseph about him, I +rather guess!" + +The old professor smiled again. "So you don't think he believes all the +mediaeval doctrines he is in the habit of preaching, Mr. Bradshaw?" + +"No, sir; I think he belongs to the class I have seen described +somewhere. 'There are those who hold the opinion that truth is only safe +when diluted,--about one fifth to four fifths lies,--as the oxygen of the +air is with its nitrogen. Else it would burn us all up.'" + +Byles Gridley colored and started a little. This was one of his own +sayings in "Thoughts on the Universe." But the young man quoted it +without seeming to suspect its authorship. + +"Where did you pick up that saying, Mr. Bradshaw?" + +"I don't remember. Some paper, I rather think. It's one of those good +things that get about without anybody's knowing who says 'em. Sounds like +Coleridge." + +"That's what I call a compliment worth having," said Byles Gridley to +himself, when he got home. "Let me look at that passage." + +He took down "Thoughts on the Universe," and got so much interested, +reading on page after page, that he did not hear the little tea-bell, and +Susan Posey volunteered to run up to his study and call him down to tea. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE TWINS. + +Miss Suzan Posey knocked timidly at his door and informed him that tea +was waiting. He rather liked Susan Posey. She was a pretty creature, +slight, blonde, a little too light, a village beauty of the second or +third grade, effective at picnics and by moonlight,--the kind of girl +that very young men are apt to remember as their first love. She had a +taste for poetry, and an admiration of poets; but, what was better, she +was modest and simple, and a perfect sister and mother and grandmother to +the two little forlorn twins who had been stranded on the Widow Hopkins's +doorstep. + +These little twins, a boy and girl, were now between two and three years +old. A few words will make us acquainted with them. Nothing had ever +been known of their origin. The sharp eyes of all the spinsters had been +through every household in the village and neighborhood, and not a +suspicion fixed itself on any one. It was a dark night when they were +left; and it was probable that they had been brought from another town, +as the sound of wheels had been heard close to the door where they were +found, had stopped for a moment, then been heard again, and lost in the +distance. + +How the good woman of the house took them in and kept them has been +briefly mentioned. At first nobody thought they would live a day, such +little absurd attempts at humanity did they seem. But the young doctor +came and the old doctor came, and the infants were laid in cotton-wool, +and the room heated up to keep them warm, and baby-teaspoonfuls of milk +given them, and after being kept alive in this way, like the young of +opossums and kangaroos, they came to a conclusion about which they did +not seem to have made up their thinking-pulps for some weeks, namely, to +go on trying to cross the sea of life by tugging at the four-and-twenty +oars which must be pulled day and night until the unknown shore is +reached, and the oars lie at rest under the folded hands. + +As it was not very likely that the parents who left their offspring round +on doorsteps were of saintly life, they were not presented for baptism +like the children of church-members. Still, they must have names to be +known by, and Mrs. Hopkins was much exercised in the matter. Like many +New England parents, she had a decided taste for names that were +significant and sonorous. That which she had chosen for her oldest +child, the young poet, was either a remarkable prophecy, or it had +brought with it the endowments it promised. She had lost, or, in her own +more pictorial language, she had buried, a daughter to whom she had given +the names, at once of cheerful omen and melodious effect, Wealthy +Amadora. + +As for them poor little creturs, she said, she believed they was rained +down out o' the skies, jest as they say toads and tadpoles come. She +meant to be a mother to 'em for all that, and give 'em jest as good names +as if they was the governor's children, or the minister's. If Mr. +Gridley would be so good as to find her some kind of a real handsome +Chris'n name for 'em, she'd provide 'em with the other one. Hopkinses +they shall be bred and taught, and Hopkinses they shall be called. Ef +their father and mother was ashamed to own 'em, she was n't. Couldn't +Mr. Gridley pick out some pooty sounding names from some of them great +books of his. It's jest as well to have 'em pooty as long as they don't +cost any more than if they was Tom and Sally. + +A grim smile passed over the rugged features of Byles Gridley. "Nothing +is easier than that, Mrs. Hopkins," he said. "I will give you two very +pretty names that I think will please you and other folks. They're new +names, too. If they shouldn't like to keep them, they can change them +before they're christened, if they ever are. Isosceles will be just the +name for the boy, and I'm sure you won't find a prettier name for the +girl in a hurry than Helminthia." + +Mrs. Hopkins was delighted with the dignity and novelty of these two +names, which were forthwith adopted. As they were rather long for common +use in the family, they were shortened into the easier forms of Sossy and +Minthy, under which designation the babes began very soon to thrive +mightily, turning bread and milk into the substance of little sinners at +a great rate, and growing as if they were put out at compound interest. + +This short episode shows us the family conditions surrounding Byles +Gridley, who, as we were saying, had just been called down to tea by Miss +Susan Posey. + +"I am coming, my dear," he said,--which expression quite touched Miss +Susan, who did not know that it was a kind of transferred caress from the +delicious page he was reading. It was not the living child that was +kissed, but the dead one lying under the snow, if we may make a trivial +use of a very sweet and tender thought we all remember. + +Not long after this, happening to call in at the lawyer's office, his eye +was caught by the corner of a book lying covered up by a pile of papers. +Somehow or other it seemed to look very natural to him. Could that be a +copy of "Thoughts on the Universe"? He watched his opportunity, and got +a hurried sight of the volume. His own treatise, sure enough! Leaves +Uncut. Opened of itself to the one hundred and twentieth page. The +axiom Murray Bradshaw had quoted--he did not remember from +what,--"sounded like Coleridge"--was staring him in the face from that +very page. When he remembered how he had pleased himself with that +compliment the other day, he blushed like a school-girl; and then, +thinking out the whole trick,--to hunt up his forgotten book, pick out a +phrase or two from it, and play on his weakness with it, to win his good +opinion,--for what purpose he did not know, but doubtless to use him in +some way,--he grinned with a contempt about equally divided between +himself and the young schemer. + +"Ah ha!" he muttered scornfully. "Sounds like Coleridge, hey? Niccolo +Macchiavelli Bradshaw!" + +From this day forward he looked on all the young lawyer's doings with +even more suspicion than before. Yet he would not forego his company and +conversation; for he was very agreeable and amusing to study; and this +trick he had played him was, after all, only a diplomatist's way of +flattering his brother plenipotentiary. Who could say? Some time or +other he might cajole England or France or Russia into a treaty with just +such a trick. Shallower men than he had gone out as ministers of the +great Republic. At any rate, the fellow was worth watching. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE USE OF SPECTACLES. + +The old Master of Arts had a great reputation in the house where he lived +for knowing everything that was going on. He rather enjoyed it; and +sometimes amused himself with surprising his simple-hearted landlady and +her boarders with the unaccountable results of his sagacity. One thing +was quite beyond her comprehension. She was perfectly sure that Mr. +Gridley could see out of the back of his head, just as other people see +with their natural organs. Time and again he had told her what she was +doing when his back was turned to her, just as if he had been sitting +squarely in front of her. Some laughed at this foolish notion; but +others, who knew more of the nebulous sciences, told her it was like's +not jes' so. Folks had read letters laid ag'in' the pits o' their +stomachs, 'n' why should n't they see out o' the backs o' their heads? + +Now there was a certain fact at the bottom of this belief of Mrs. +Hopkins; and as it world be a very small thing to make a mystery of so +simple a matter, the reader shall have the whole benefit of knowing all +there is in it,--not quite yet, however, of knowing all that came of it. +It was not the mirror trick, of course, which Mrs. Felix Lorraine and +other dangerous historical personages have so long made use of. It was +nothing but this: Mr. Byles Gridley wore a pair of formidable spectacles +with large round glasses. He had often noticed the reflection of objects +behind him when they caught their images at certain angles, and had got +the habit of very often looking at the reflecting surface of one or the +other of the glasses, when he seemed to be looking through them. It put +a singular power into his possession, which might possibly hereafter lead +to something more significant than the mystification of the Widow +Hopkins. + +A short time before Myrtle Hazard's disappearance, Mr. Byles Gridley had +occasion to call again at the office of Penhallow and Bradshaw on some +small matter of business of his own. There were papers to look over, and +he put on his great round-glassed spectacles. He and Mr. Penhallow sat +down at the table, and Mr. Bradshaw was at a desk behind them. After +sitting for a while, Mr. Penhallow seemed to remember something he had +meant to attend to, for he said all at once: "Excuse me, Mr. Gridley. +Mr. Bradshaw, if you are not busy, I wish you would look over this bundle +of papers. They look like old receipted bills and memoranda of no +particular use; but they came from the garret of the Withers place, and +might possibly have something that would be of value. Look them over, +will you, and see whether there is anything there worth saving." + +The young man took the papers, and Mr. Penhallow sat down again at the +table with Mr. Byles Gridley. + +This last-named gentleman felt just then a strong impulse to observe the +operations of Murray Bradshaw. He could not have given any very good +reason for it, any more than any of us can for half of what we do. + +"I should like to examine that conveyance we were speaking of once more," +said he. "Please to look at this one in the mean time, will you, Mr. +Penhallow?" + +Master Gridley held the document up before him. He did not seem to find +it quite legible, and adjusted his spectacles carefully, until they were +just as he wanted them. When he had got them to suit himself, sitting +there with his back to Murray Bradshaw, he could see him and all his +movements, the desk at which he was standing, and the books in the +shelves before him,--all this time appearing as if he were intent upon +his own reading. + +The young man began in a rather indifferent way to look over the papers. +He loosened the band round them, and took them up one by one, gave a +careless glance at them, and laid them together to tie up again when he +had gone through them. Master Gridley saw all this process, thinking +what a fool he was all the time to be watching such a simple proceeding. +Presently he noticed a more sudden movement: the young man had found +something which arrested his attention, and turned his head to see if he +was observed. The senior partner and his client were both apparently +deep in their own affairs. In his hand Mr. Bradshaw held a paper folded +like the others, the back of which he read, holding it in such a way that +Master Gridley saw very distinctly three large spots of ink upon it, and +noticed their position. Murray Bradshaw took another hurried glance at +the two gentlemen, and then quickly opened the paper. He ran it over +with a flash of his eye, folded it again, and laid it by itself. With +another quick turn of his head, as if to see whether he were observed or +like to be, he reached his hand out and took a volume down from the +shelves. In this volume he shut the document, whatever it was, which he +had just taken out of the bundle, and placed the book in a very silent +and as it were stealthy way back in its place. He then gave a look at +each of the other papers, and said to his partner: "Old bills, old +leases, and insurance policies that have run out. Malachi seems to have +kept every scrap of paper that had a signature to it." + +"That 's the way with the old misers, always," said Mr. Penhallow. + +Byles Gridley had got through reading the document he held,--or +pretending to read it. He took off his spectacles. + +"We all grow timid and cautious as we get old, Mr. Penhallow." Then +turning round to the young man, he slowly repeated the lines, + + "'Multa senem circumveniunt incommoda, vel quod + Quaerit et inventis miser abstinet, ac timet uti; + Vel quod res omnes timide, gelideque ministrat' + +"You remember the passage, Mr. Bradshaw?" + +While he was reciting these words from Horace, which he spoke slowly as +if he relished every syllable, he kept his eyes on the young man +steadily, but with out betraying any suspicion. His old habits as a +teacher made that easy. + +Murray Bradshaw's face was calm as usual, but there was a flush on his +cheek, and Master Gridley saw the slight but unequivocal signs of +excitement. + +"Something is going on inside there," the old man said to himself. He +waited patiently, on the pretext of business, until Mr. Bradshaw got up +and left the office. As soon as he and the senior partner were alone, +Master Gridley took a lazy look at some of the books in his library. +There stood in the book-shelves a copy of the Corpus Juris Civilis,--the +fine Elzevir edition of 1664. It was bound in parchment, and thus +readily distinguishable at a glance from all the books round it. Now Mr. +Penhallow was not much of a Latin scholar, and knew and cared very little +about the civil law. He had fallen in with this book at an auction, and +bought it to place in his shelves with the other "properties" of the +office, because it would look respectable. Anything shut up in one of +those two octavos might stay there a lifetime without Mr. Penhallow's +disturbing it; that Master Gridley knew, and of course the young man knew +it too. + +We often move to the objects of supreme curiosity or desire, not in the +lines of castle or bishop on the chess-board, but with the knight's +zigzag, at first in the wrong direction, making believe to ourselves we +are not after the thing coveted. Put a lump of sugar in a canary-bird's +cage, and the small creature will illustrate the instinct for the benefit +of inquirers or sceptics. Byles Gridley went to the other side of the +room and took a volume of Reports from the shelves. He put it back and +took a copy of "Fearne on Contingent Remainders," and looked at that for +a moment in an idling way, as if from a sense of having nothing to do. +Then he drew the back of his forefinger along the books on the shelf, as +if nothing interested him in them, and strolled to the shelf in front of +the desk at which Murray Bradshaw had stood. He took down the second +volume of the Corpus Juris Civilis, turned the leaves over mechanically, +as if in search of some title, and replaced it. + +He looked round for a moment. Mr. Penhallow was writing hard at his +table, not thinking of him, it was plain enough. He laid his hand on the +FIRST volume of the Corpus Juris Civilis. There was a document shut up +in it. His hand was on the book, whether taking it out or putting it +back was not evident, when the door opened and Mr. William Murray +Bradshaw entered. + +"Ah, Mr. Gridley," he said, "you are not studying the civil law, are +you?" He strode towards him as he spoke, his face white, his eyes fixed +fiercely on him. + +"It always interests me, Mr. Bradshaw," he answered, "and this is a fine +edition of it. One may find a great many valuable things in the Corpus +Juris Civilis." + +He looked impenetrable, and whether or not he had seen more than Mr. +Bradshaw wished him to see, that gentleman could not tell. But there +stood the two books in their place, and when, after Master Gridley had +gone, he looked in the first volume, there was the document he had shut +up in it. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MYRTLE'S LETTER--THE YOUNG MEN'S PURSUIT. + +"You know all about it, Olive?" Cyprian Eveleth said to his sister, after +a brief word of greeting. + +"Know of what, Cyprian?" + +"Why, sister, don't you know that Myrtle Hazard is missing,--gone!--gone +nobody knows where, and that we are looking in all directions to find +her?" + +Olive turned very pale and was silent for a moment. At the end of that +moment the story seemed almost old to her. It was a natural ending of +the prison-life which had been round Myrtle since her earliest years. +When she got large and strong enough, she broke out of jail,--that was +all. The nursery-bar is always climbed sooner or later, whether it is a +wooden or an iron one. Olive felt as if she had dimly foreseen just such +a finishing to the tragedy of the poor girl's home bringing-up. Why +could not she have done something to prevent it? Well,--what shall we do +now, and as it is?--that is the question. + +"Has she left no letter,--no explanation of her leaving in this way?" + +"Not a word, so far as anybody in the village knows." + +"Come over to the post-office with me; perhaps we may find a letter. I +think we shall." + +Olive's sagacity and knowledge of her friend's character had not misled +her. She found a letter from Myrtle to herself, which she opened and +read as here follows: + +MY DEAREST OLIVE:--Think no evil of me for what I have done. The +fire-hang-bird's nest, as Cyprian called it, is empty, and the poor bird +is flown. + +I can live as I have lived no longer. This place is chilling all the +life out of me, and I must find another home. It is far, far away, and +you will not hear from me again until I am there. Then I will write to +you. + +You know where I was born,--under a hot sun and in the midst of strange, +lovely scenes that I seem still to remember. I must visit them again: my +heart always yearns for them. And I must cross the sea to get +there,--the beautiful great sea that I have always longed for and that my +river has been whispering about to me ever so many years. My life is +pinched and starved here. I feel as old as aunt Silence, and I am only +fifteen,--a child she has called me within a few days. If this is to be +a child, what is it to be a woman? + +I love you dearly,--and your brother is almost to me as if he were mine. +I love our sweet, patient Bathsheba,--yes, and the old man that has +spoken so kindly with me, good Master Gridley; I hate to give you +pain,--to leave you all,--but my way of life is killing me, and I am too +young to die. I cannot take the comfort with you, my dear friends, that +I would; for it seems as if I carried a lump of ice in my heart, and all +the warmth I find in you cannot thaw it out. + +I have had a strange warning to leave this place, Olive. Do you remember +how the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph and told him to flee into +Egypt? I have had a dream like that, Olive. There is an old belief in +our family that the spirit of one who died many generations ago watches +over some of her descendants. They say it led our first ancestor to come +over here when it was a wilderness. I believe it has appeared to others +of the family in times of trouble. I have had a strange dream at any +rate, and the one I saw, or thought I saw, told me to leave this place. +Perhaps I should have stayed if it had not been for that, but it seemed +like an angel's warning. + +Nobody will know how I have gone, or which way I have taken. On Monday, +you may show this letter to my friends, not before. I do not think they +will be in danger of breaking their hearts for me at our house. Aunt +Silence cares for nothing but her own soul, and the other woman hates me, +I always thought. Kitty Fagan will cry hard. Tell her perhaps I shall +come back by and by. There is a little box in my room, with some +keepsakes marked,--one is for poor Kitty. You can give them to the right +ones. Yours is with them. + +Good-by, dearest. Keep my secret, as I told you, till Monday. And if +you never see me again, remember how much I loved you. Never think +hardly of me, for you have grown up in a happy home, and do not know how +much misery can be crowded into fifteen years of a young girl's life. +God be with you! + +MYRTLE HAZARD. + + +Olive could not restrain her tears, as she handed the letter to Cyprian. +"Her secret is as safe with you as with me," she said. "But this is +madness, Cyprian, and we must keep her from doing herself a wrong. + +"What she means to do, is to get to Boston, in some way or other, and +sail for India. It is strange that they have not tracked her. There is +no time to be lost. She shall not go out into the world in this way, +child that she is. No; she shall come back, and make her home with us, +if she cannot be happy with these people. Ours is a happy and a cheerful +home, and she shall be to me as a younger sister, and your sister too, +Cyprian. But you must see her; you must leave this very hour; and you +may find her. Go to your cousin Edward, in Boston, at once; tell him +your errand, and get him to help you find our poor dear sister. Then +give her the note I will write, and say I know your heart, Cyprian, and I +can trust that to tell you what to say." + +In a very short time Cyprian Eveleth was on his way to Boston. But +another, keener even in pursuit than he, was there before him. + +Ever since the day when Master Gridley had made that over-curious +observation of the young lawyer's proceedings at the office, Murray +Bradshaw had shown a far livelier interest than before in the conditions +and feelings of Myrtle Hazard. He had called frequently at The Poplars +to talk over business matters, which seemed of late to require a deal of +talking. He had been very deferential to Miss Silence, and had wound +himself into the confidence of Miss Badlam. He found it harder to +establish any very near relations with Myrtle, who had never seemed to +care much for any young man but Cyprian Eveleth, and to care for him +quite as much as Olive's brother as for any personal reason. But he +carefully studied Myrtle's tastes and ways of thinking and of life, so +that, by and by, when she should look upon herself as a young woman, and +not as a girl, he would have a great advantage in making her more +intimate acquaintance. + +Thus, she corresponded with a friend of her mother's in India. She +talked at times as if it were her ideal home, and showed many tastes +which might well be vestiges of early Oriental impressions. She made +herself a rude hammock,--such as are often used in hot climates,--and +swung it between two elms. Here she would lie in the hot summer days, +and fan herself with the sandal-wood fan her friend in India had sent +her,--the perfume of which, the women said, seemed to throw her into +day-dreams, which were almost like trances. + +These circumstances gave a general direction to his ideas, which were +presently fixed more exactly by two circumstances which he learned for +himself and kept to himself; for he had no idea of making a hue and cry, +and yet he did not mean that Myrtle Hazard should get away if he could +help it. + +The first fact was this. He found among the copies of the city newspaper +they took at The Poplars a recent number from which a square had been cut +out. He procured another copy of this paper of the same date, and found +that the piece cut out was an advertisement to the effect that the A 1 +Ship Swordfish, Captain Hawkins, was to sail from Boston for Calcutta, on +the 20th of June. + +The second fact was the following. On the window-sill of her little +hanging chamber, which the women allowed him to inspect, he found some +threads of long, black, glossy hair caught by a splinter in the wood. +They were Myrtle's of course. A simpleton might have constructed a +tragedy out of this trivial circumstance,--how she had cast herself from +the window into the waters beneath it,--how she had been thrust out after +a struggle, of which this shred from her tresses was the dreadful +witness,--and so on. Murray Bradshaw did not stop to guess and wonder. +He said nothing about it, but wound the shining threads on his finger, +and, as soon as he got home, examined them with a magnifier. They had +been cut off smoothly, as with a pair of scissors. This was part of a +mass of hair, then, which had been shorn and thrown from the window. +Nobody would do that but she herself. What would she do it for? To +disguise her sex, of course. The other inferences were plain enough. + +The wily young man put all these facts and hints together, and concluded +that he would let the rustics drag the ponds and the river, and scour the +woods and swamps, while he himself went to the seaport town from which +she would without doubt sail if she had formed the project he thought on +the whole most probable. + +Thus it was that we found him hurrying to the nearest station to catch +the train to Boston, while they were all looking for traces of the +missing girl nearer home. In the cars he made the most suggestive +inquiries he could frame, to stir up the gentlemanly conductor's memory. +Had any young fellow been on the train within a day or two, who had +attracted his notice? Smooth, handsome face, black eyes, short black +hair, new clothes, not fitting very well, looked away when he paid his +fare, had a soft voice like a woman's,--had he seen anybody answering to +some such description as this? The gentlemanly conductor had not +noticed,--was always taking up and setting down way-passengers,--might +have had such a young man aboard,--there was two or three students one +day in the car singing college songs,--he did n't care how folks looked +if they had their tickets ready,--and minded their own business,--and, so +saying, he poked a young man upon whose shoulder a ringleted head was +reclining with that delightful abandon which the railroad train seems to +provoke in lovely woman,--"Fare!" + +It is a fine thing to be set down in a great, overcrowded hotel, where +they do not know you, looking dusty, and for the moment shabby, with +nothing but a carpet-bag in your hand, feeling tired, and anything but +clean, and hungry, and worried, and every way miserable and mean, and to +undergo the appraising process of the gentleman in the office, who, while +he shoves the book round to you for your name, is making a hasty +calculation as to how high up he can venture to doom you. But Murray +Bradshaw's plain dress and carpet-bag were more than made up for by the +air and tone which imply the habit of being attended to. The clerk saw +that in a glance, and, as he looked at the name and address in the book, +spoke sharply in the explosive dialect of his tribe,-- + +"Jun! ta'tha'genlm'n'scarpetbag'n'showhimupt'thirtyone!" + +When Cyprian Eveleth reached the same hotel late at night, he appeared in +his best clothes and with a new valise; but his amiable countenance and +gentle voice and modest manner sent him up two stories higher, where he +found himself in a room not much better than a garret, feeling lonely +enough, for he did not know he had an acquaintance in the same house. +The two young men were in and out so irregularly that it was not very +strange that they did not happen to meet each other. + +The young lawyer was far more likely to find Myrtle if she were in the +city than the other, even with the help of his cousin Edward. He was not +only older, but sharper, better acquainted with the city and its ways, +and, whatever might be the strength of Cyprian's motives, his own were of +such intensity that he thought of nothing else by day, and dreamed of +nothing else by night. He went to work, therefore, in the most +systematic manner. He first visited the ship Swordfish, lying at her +wharf, saw her captain, and satisfied himself that as yet nobody at all +corresponding to the description of Myrtle Hazard had been seen by any +person on board. He visited all the wharves, inquiring on every vessel +where it seemed possible she might have been looking about. Hotels, +thoroughfares, every place where he might hear of her or meet her, were +all searched. He took some of the police into his confidence, and had +half a dozen pairs of eyes besides his own opened pretty widely, to +discover the lost girl. + +On Sunday, the 19th, he got the first hint which encouraged him to think +he was on the trail of his fugitive. He had gone down again to the wharf +where the Swordfish, advertised to sail the next day, was lying. The +captain was not on board, but one of the mates was there, and he +addressed his questions to him, not with any great hope of hearing +anything important, but determined to lose no chance, however small. He +was startled with a piece of information which gave him such an exquisite +pang of delight that he could hardly keep the usual quiet of his +demeanor. A youth corresponding to his description of Myrtle Hazard in +her probable disguise had been that morning on board the Swordfish, +making many inquires as to the hour at which she was to sail, and who +were to be the passengers, and remained some time on board, going all +over the vessel, examining her cabin accommodations, and saying he should +return to-morrow before she sailed,--doubtless intending to take passage +in her, as there was plenty of room on board. There could be little +question, from the description, who this young person was. It was a +rather delicate--looking, dark--haired youth, smooth-faced, somewhat shy +and bashful in his ways, and evidently excited and nervous. He had +apparently been to look about him, and would come back at the last +moment, just as the vessel was ready to sail, and in an hour or two be +beyond the reach of inquiry. + +Murray Bradshaw returned to his hotel, and, going to his chamber, +summoned all his faculties in state council to determine what course he +should follow, now that he had the object of his search certainly within +reaching distance. There was no danger now of her eluding him; but the +grave question arose, what was he to do when he stood face to face with +her. She must not go,--that was fixed. If she once got off in that +ship, she might be safe enough; but what would become of certain projects +in which he was interested,--that was the question. But again, she was +no child, to be turned away from her adventure by cajolery, or by any +such threats as common truants would find sufficient to scare them back +to their duty. He could tell the facts of her disguise and the manner of +her leaving home to the captain of the vessel, and induce him to send her +ashore as a stray girl, to be returned to her relatives. But this would +only make her furious with him; and he must not alienate her from +himself, at any rate. He might plead with her in the name of duty, for +the sake of her friends, for the good name of the family. She had +thought all these things over before she ran away. What if he should +address her as a lover, throw himself at her feet, implore her to pity +him and give up her rash scheme, and, if things came to the very worst, +offer to follow her wherever she went, if she would accept him in the +only relation that would render it possible. Fifteen years old,--he +nearly ten years older,--but such things had happened before, and this +was no time to stand on trifles. + +He worked out the hypothesis of the matrimonial offer as he would have +reasoned out the probabilities in a law case he was undertaking. + +1. He would rather risk that than lose all hold upon her. The girl was +handsome enough for his ambitious future, wherever it might carry him. +She came of an honorable family, and had the great advantage of being +free from a tribe of disagreeable relatives, which is such a drawback on +many otherwise eligible parties. To these considerations were to be +joined other circumstances which we need not here mention, of a nature to +add greatly to their force, and which would go far of themselves to +determine his action. + +2. How was it likely she would look on such an extraordinary +proposition? At first, no doubt, as Lady Anne looked upon the advances +of Richard. She would be startled, perhaps shocked. What then? She +could not help feeling flattered at such an offer from him,--him, William +Murray Bradshaw, the rising young man of his county, at her feet, his +eyes melting with the love he would throw into them, his tones subdued to +their most sympathetic quality, and all those phrases on his lips which +every day beguile women older and more discreet than this romantic, +long-imprisoned girl, whose rash and adventurous enterprise was an +assertion of her womanhood and her right to dispose of herself as she +chose. He had not lived to be twenty-five years old without knowing his +power with women. He believed in himself so thoroughly, that his very +confidence was a strong promise of success. + +3. In case all his entreaties, arguments, and offers made no impression, +should he make use of that supreme resource, not to be employed save in +extreme need, but which was of a nature, in his opinion, to shake a +resolution stronger than this young girl was like to oppose to it? That +would be like Christian's coming to his weapon called All-prayer, he said +to himself, with a smile that his early readings of Bunyan should have +furnished him an image for so different an occasion. The question was +one he could not settle till the time came,--he must leave it to the +instinct of the moment. + +The next morning found him early waking after a night of feverish dreams. +He dressed himself with more than usual care, and walked down to the +wharf where the Swordfish was moored. The ship had left the wharf, and +was lying out in the stream: A small boat had just reached her, and a +slender youth, as he appeared at that distance, climbed, not +over-adroitly, up the vessel's side. + +Murray Bradshaw called to a boatman near by and ordered the man to row +him over as fast as he could to the vessel lying in the stream. He had no +sooner reached the deck of the Swordfish than he asked for the young +person who had just been put on board. + +"He is in the cabin, sir, just gone down with the captain," was the +reply. + +His heart beat, in spite of his cool temperament, as he went down the +steps leading to the cabin. The young person was talking earnestly with +the captain, and, on his turning round, Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had +the pleasure of recognizing his young friend, Mr. Cyprian Eveleth. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +DOWN THE RIVER. + +Look at the flower of a morning-glory the evening before the dawn which +is to see it unfold. The delicate petals are twisted into a spiral, +which at the appointed hour, when the sunlight touches the hidden springs +of its life, will uncoil itself and let the day into the chamber of its +virgin heart. But the spiral must unwind by its own law, and the hand +that shall try to hasten the process will only spoil the blossom which +would have expanded in symmetrical beauty under the rosy fingers of +morning. + +We may take a hint from Nature's handling of the flower in dealing with +young souls, and especially with the souls of young girls, which, from +their organization and conditions, require more careful treatment than +those of their tougher-fibred brothers. Many parents reproach themselves +for not having enforced their own convictions on their children in the +face of every inborn antagonism they encountered. Let them not be too +severe in their self-condemnation. A want of judgment in this matter has +sent many a young person to Bedlam, whose nature would have opened kindly +enough if it had only been trusted to the sweet influences of morning +sunshine. In such cases it may be that the state we call insanity is not +always an unalloyed evil. It may take the place of something worse, the +wretchedness of a mind not yet dethroned, but subject to the perpetual +interferences of another mind governed by laws alien and hostile to its +own. Insanity may perhaps be the only palliative left to Nature in this +extremity. But before she comes to that, she has many expedients. The +mind does not know what diet it can feed on until it has been brought to +the starvation point. Its experience is like that of those who have been +long drifting about on rafts or in long-boats. There is nothing out of +which it will not contrive to get some sustenance. A person of note, +long held captive for a political offence, is said to have owed the +preservation of his reason to a pin, out of which he contrived to get +exercise and excitement by throwing it down carelessly on the dark floor +of his dungeon, and then hunting for it in a series of systematic +explorations until he had found it. + +Perhaps the most natural thing Myrtle Hazard could have done would have +been to go crazy, and be sent to the nearest asylum, if Providence, which +in its wisdom makes use of the most unexpected agencies, had not made a +special provision for her mental welfare. She was in that arid household +as the prophet in the land where there was no dew nor rain for these long +years. But as he had the brook Cherith, and the bread and flesh in the +morning and the bread and flesh in the evening which the ravens brought +him, so she had the river and her secret store of books. + +The river was light and life and music and companionship to her. She +learned to row herself about upon it, to swim boldly in it, for it had +sheltered nooks but a little way above The Poplars. But there was more +than that in it,--it was infinitely sympathetic. A river is strangely +like a human soul. It has its dark and bright days, its troubles from +within, and its disturbances from without. It often runs over ragged +rocks with a smooth surface, and is vexed with ripples as it slides over +sands that are level as a floor. It betrays its various moods by aspects +which are the commonplaces of poetry, as smiles and dimples and wrinkles +and frowns. Its face is full of winking eyes, when the scattering +rain-drops first fall upon it, and it scowls back at the storm-cloud, as +with knitted brows, when the winds are let loose. It talks, too, in its +own simple dialect, murmuring, as it were, with busy lips all the way to +the ocean, as children seeking the mother's breast and impatient of +delay. Prisoners who know what a flower or an insect has been to them in +their solitary cell, invalids who have employed their vacant minds in +studying the patterns of paper-hangings on the walls of their +sick-chambers, can tell what the river was to the lonely, imaginative +creature who used to sit looking into its depths, hour after hour, from +the airy height of the Fire-hang-bird's Nest. + +Of late a thought had mingled with her fancies which had given to the +river the aspect of something more than a friend and a companion. It +appeared all at once as a Deliverer. Did not its waters lead, after long +wanderings, to the great highway of the world, and open to her the gates +of those cities from which she could take her departure unchallenged +towards the lands of the morning or of the sunset? Often, after a +freshet, she had seen a child's miniature boat floating down on its side +past her window, and traced it in imagination back to some crystal brook +flowing by the door of a cottage far up a blue mountain in the distance. +So she now began to follow down the stream the airy shallop that held her +bright fancies. These dreams of hers were colored by the rainbows of an +enchanted fountain,--the books of adventure, the romances, the stories +which fortune had placed in her hands,--the same over which the heart of +the Pride of the County had throbbed in the last century, and on the +pages of some of which the traces of her tears might still be seen. + +The literature which was furnished for Myrtle's improvement was chiefly +of a religious character, and, however interesting and valuable to those +to whom it was adapted, had not been chosen with any wise regard to its +fitness for her special conditions. Of what use was it to offer books +like the "Saint's Rest" to a child whose idea of happiness was in +perpetual activity? She read "Pilgrim's Progress," it is true, with +great delight. She liked the idea of travelling with a pack on one's +back, the odd shows at the House of the interpreter, the fighting, the +adventures, the pleasing young ladies at the palace the name of which was +Beautiful, and their very interesting museum of curiosities. As for the +allegorical meaning, it went through her consciousness like a peck of +wheat through a bushel measure with the bottom out, without touching. + +But the very first book she got hold of out of the hidden treasury threw +the "Pilgrim's Progress" quite into the shade. It was the story of a +youth who ran away and lived on an island,--one Crusoe,--a homely +narrative, but evidently true, though full of remarkable adventures. +There too was the history, coming much nearer home, of Deborah Sampson, +the young woman who served as a soldier in the Revolutionary War, with a +portrait of her in man's attire, looking intrepid rather than lovely. A +virtuous young female she was, and married well, as she deserved to, and +raised a family with as good a name as wife and mother as the best of +them. But perhaps not one of these books and stories took such hold of +her imagination as the tale of Rasselas, which most young persons find +less entertaining than the "Vicar of Wakefield," with which it is +nowadays so commonly bound up. It was the prince's discontent in the +Happy Valley, the iron gate opening to the sound of music, and closing +forever on those it admitted, the rocky boundaries of the imprisoning +valley, the visions of the world beyond, the projects of escape, and the +long toil which ended in their accomplishment, which haunted her sleeping +and waking. She too was a prisoner, but it was not in the Happy Valley. +Of the romances and the love-letters we must take it for granted that she +selected wisely, and read discreetly; at least we know nothing to the +contrary. + +There were mysterious reminiscences and hints of her past coming over her +constantly. It was in the course of the long, weary spring before her +disappearance, that a dangerous chord was struck which added to her +growing restlessness. In an old closet were some seashells and +coral-fans, and dried star-fishes and sea, horses, and a natural mummy of +a rough-skinned dogfish. She had not thought of them for years, but now +she felt impelled to look after them. The dim sea odors which still +clung to them penetrated to the very inmost haunts of memory, and called +up that longing for the ocean breeze which those who have once breathed +and salted their blood with it never get over, and which makes the +sweetest inland airs seem to them at last tame and tasteless. She held a +tigershell to her ear, and listened to that low, sleepy murmur, whether +in the sense or in the soul we hardly know, like that which had so often +been her lullaby,--a memory of the sea, as Landor and Wordsworth have +sung. + +"You are getting to look like your father," Aunt Silence said one day; "I +never saw it before. I always thought you took after old Major Gideon +Withers. Well, I hope you won't come to an early grave like poor +Charles,--or at any rate, that you may be prepared." + +It did not seem very likely that the girl was going out of the world at +present, but she looked Miss Silence in the face very seriously, and +said, "Why not an early grave, Aunt, if this world is such a bad place as +you say it is?" + +"I'm afraid you are not fit for a better." + +She wondered if Silence Withers and Cynthia Badlam were just ripe for +heaven. + +For some months Miss Cynthia Badlam, who, as was said, had been an +habitual visitor at The Poplars, had lived there as a permanent resident. +Between her and Silence Withers, Myrtle Hazard found no rest for her +soul. Each of them was for untwisting the morning-glory without waiting +for the sunshine to do it. Each had her own wrenches and pincers to use +for that purpose. All this promised little for the nurture and +admonition of the young girl, who, if her will could not be broken by +imprisonment and starvation at three years old, was not likely to be +over-tractable to any but gentle and reasonable treatment at fifteen. + +Aunt Silence's engine was responsibility,--her own responsibility, and +the dreadful consequences which would follow to her, Silence, if Myrtle +should in any way go wrong. Ever since her failure in that moral coup +d'etat by which the sinful dynasty of the natural self-determining power +was to be dethroned, her attempts in the way of education had been a +series of feeble efforts followed by plaintive wails over their utter +want of success. The face she turned upon the young girl in her solemn +expostulations looked as if it were inscribed with the epitaphs of hope +and virtue. Her utterances were pitched in such a forlorn tone, that the +little bird in his cage, who always began twittering at the sound of +Myrtle's voice, would stop in his song, and cock his head with a look of +inquiry full of pathos, as if he wanted to know what was the matter, and +whether he could do anything to help. + +The specialty of Cynthia Badlam was to point out all the dangerous and +unpardonable trangressions into which young people generally, and this +young person in particular, were likely to run, to hold up examples of +those who had fallen into evil ways and come to an evil end, to present +the most exalted standard of ascetic virtue to the lively girl's +apprehension, leading her naturally to the conclusion that a bright +example of excellence stood before her in the irreproachable relative who +addressed her. Especially with regard to the allurements which the world +offers to the young and inexperienced female, Miss Cynthia Badlam was +severe and eloquent. Sometimes poor Myrtle would stare, not seeing the +meaning of her wise caution, sometimes look at Miss Cynthia with a +feeling that there was something about her that was false and forced, +that she had nothing in common with young people, that she had no pity +for them, only hatred of their sins, whatever these might be,--a hatred +which seemed to extend to those sources of frequent temptation, youth and +beauty, as if they were in themselves objectionable. + +Both the lone women at The Poplars were gifted with a thin vein of music. +They gave it expression in psalmody, of course, in which Myrtle, who was +a natural singer, was expected to bear her part. This would have been +pleasantry if the airs most frequently selected had been cheerful or +soothing, and if the favorite hymns had been of a sort to inspire a love +for what was lovely in this life, and to give some faint foretaste of the +harmonies of a better world to come. But there is a fondness for minor +keys and wailing cadences common to the monotonous chants of cannibals +and savages generally, to such war-songs as the wild, implacable +"Marseillaise," and to the favorite tunes of low--spirited Christian +pessimists. That mournful "China," which one of our most agreeable +story-tellers has justly singled out as the cry of despair itself, was +often sung at The Poplars, sending such a sense of utter misery through +the house, that poor Kitty Fagan would cross herself, and wring her +hands, and think of funerals, and wonder who was going to die,--for she +fancied she heard the Banshee's warning in those most dismal ululations. + +On the first Saturday of June, a fortnight before her disappearance, +Myrtle strolled off by the river shore, along its lonely banks, and came +dome with her hands full of leaves and blossoms. Silence Withers looked +at them as if they were a kind of melancholy manifestation of frivolity +on the part of the wicked old earth. Not that she did not inhale their +faint fragrance with a certain pleasure, and feel their beauty as none +whose souls are not wholly shriveled and hardened can help doing, but the +world was, in her estimate, a vale of tears, and it was only by a +momentary forgetfulness that she could be moved to smile at anything. + +Miss Cynthia, a sharper-edged woman, had formed the habit of crushing +everything for its moral, until it lost its sweetness and grew almost +odious, as flower-de-luces do when handled roughly. "There's a worm in +that leaf, Myrtle. He has rolled it all round him, and hidden himself +from sight; but there is a horrid worm in it, for all it is so young and +fresh. There is a worm in every young soul, Myrtle." + +"But there is not a worm in every leaf, Miss Cynthia. Look," she said," +all these are open, and you can see all over and under them, and there is +nothing there. Are there never any worms in the leaves after they get +old and yellow, Miss Cynthia?" + +That was a pretty fair hit for a simple creature of fifteen, but perhaps +she was not so absolutely simple as one might have thought. + +It was on the evening of this same day that they were sitting together. +The sweet season was opening, and it seemed as if the whispering of the +leaves, the voices of the birds, the softness of the air, the young life +stirring in everything, called on all creatures to join the universal +chorus of praise that was going up around them. + +"What shall we sing this evening?" said Miss Silence. + +"Give me one of the books, if you please, Cousin Silence," said Miss +Cynthia. "It is Saturday evening. Holy time has begun. Let us prepare +our minds for the solemnities of the Sabbath." + +She took the book, one well known to the schools and churches of this +nineteenth century. + +"Book Second. Hymn 44. Long metre. I guess 'Putney' will be as good a +tune as any to sing it to." + +The trio began,-- + + "With holy fear, and humble song," + +and got through the first verse together pretty well. Then came the +second verse: + + "Far in the deep where darkness dwells, + The land of horror and despair, + Justice has built a dismal hell, + And laid her stores of vengeance there." + +Myrtle's voice trembled a little in singing this verse, and she hardly +kept up her part with proper spirit. + +"Sing out, Myrtle," said Miss Cynthia, and she struck up the third verse: + + "Eternal plagues and heavy chains, + Tormenting racks and fiery coals, + And darts t' inflict immortal pains, + Dyed in the blood of damned souls." + +This last verse was a duet, and not a trio. Myrtle closed her lips while +it was singing, and when it was done threw down the book with a look of +anger and disgust. The hunted soul was at bay. + +"I won't sing such words," she said, "and I won't stay here to hear them +sung. The boys in the streets say just such words as that, and I am not +going to sing them. You can't scare me into being good with your cruel +hymn-book!" + +She could not swear: she was not a boy. She would not cry: she felt +proud, obdurate, scornful, outraged. All these images, borrowed from the +holy Inquisition, were meant to frighten her--and had simply irritated +her. The blow of a weapon that glances off, stinging, but not +penetrating, only enrages. It was a moment of fearful danger to her +character, to her life itself. + +Without heeding the cries of the two women, she sprang up-stairs to her +hanging chamber. She threw open the window and looked down into the +stream. For one moment her head swam with the sudden, overwhelming, +almost maddening thought that came over her,--the impulse to fling +herself headlong into those running waters and dare the worst these +dreadful women had threatened her with. Something she often thought +afterwards it was an invisible hand held her back during that brief +moment, and the paroxysm--just such a paroxysm as throws many a young +girl into the Thames or the Seine--passed away. She remained looking, in +a misty dream, into the water far below. Its murmur recalled the whisper +of the ocean waves. And through the depths it seemed as if she saw into +that strange, half--remembered world of palm-trees and white robes and +dusky faces, and amidst them, looking upon her with ineffable love and +tenderness, until all else faded from her sight, the face of a fair +woman,--was it hers, so long, long dead, or that dear young mother's who +was to her less a recollection than a dream? + +Could it have been this vision that soothed her, so that she unclasped +her hands and lifted her bowed head as if she had heard a voice +whispering to her from that unknown world where she felt there was a +spirit watching over her? At any rate, her face was never more serene +than when she went to meeting with the two maiden ladies on the following +day, Sunday, and heard the Rev. Mr. Stoker preach a sermon from Luke vii. +48, which made both the women shed tears, but especially so excited Miss +Cynthia that she was in a kind of half-hysteric condition all the rest of +the day. + +After that Myrtle was quieter and more docile than ever before. Could it +be, Miss Silence thought, that the Rev. Mr. Stoker's sermon had touched +her hard heart? However that was, she did not once wear the stormy look +with which she had often met the complaining remonstrances Miss Silence +constantly directed against all the spontaneous movements of the youthful +and naturally vivacious subject of her discipline. + +June is an uncertain month, as everybody knows, and there were frosts in +many parts of New England in the June of 1859. But there were also +beautiful days and nights, and the sun was warm enough to be fast +ripening the strawberries,--also certain plans which had been in flower +some little time. Some preparations had been going on in a quiet way, so +that at the right moment a decisive movement could be made. Myrtle knew +how to use her needle, and always had a dexterous way of shaping any +article of dress or ornament,--a natural gift not very rare, but +sometimes very needful, as it was now. + +On the morning of the 15th of June she was wandering by the shores of the +river, some distance above The Poplars, when a boat came drifting along +by her, evidently broken loose from its fastenings farther up the stream. +It was common for such waifs to show themselves after heavy rains had +swollen the river. They might have run the gauntlet of nobody could tell +how many farms, and perhaps passed by half a dozen towns and villages in +the night, so that, if of common, cheap make, they were retained without +scruple, by any who might find them, until the owner called for them, if +he cared to take the trouble. + +Myrtle took a knife from her pocket, cut down a long, slender sapling, +and coaxed the boat to the side of the bank. A pair of old oars lay in +the bottom of the boat; she took one of these and paddled it into a +little cove, where it could lie hid among the thick alders. Then she went +home and busied herself about various little matters more interesting to +her than to us. + +She was never more amiable and gracious than on this day. But she looked +often at the clock, as they remembered afterwards, and studied over a +copy of the Farmer's Almanac which was lying in the kitchen, with a +somewhat singular interest. The days were nearly at their longest, the +weather was mild, the night promised to be clear and bright. + +The household was, to all appearance, asleep at the usual early hour. +When all seemed quiet, Myrtle lighted her lamp, stood before her mirror, +and untied the string that bound her long and beautiful dark hair, which +fell in its abundance over her shoulders and below her girdle. + +She lifted its heavy masses with one hand, and severed it with a strong +pair of scissors, with remorseless exaction of every wandering curl, +until she stood so changed by the loss of that outward glory of her +womanhood, that she felt as if she had lost herself and found a brother +she had never seen before. + +"Good-by, Myrtle!" she said, and, opening her window very gently, she +flung the shining tresses upon the running water, and watched them for a +few moments as they floated down the stream. Then she dressed herself in +the character of her imaginary brother, took up the carpet-bag in which +she had placed what she chose to carry with her, stole softly +down-stairs, and let herself out of a window on the lower floor, shutting +it very carefully so as to be sure that nobody should be disturbed. + +She glided along, looking all about her, fearing she might be seen by +some curious wanderer, and reached the cove where the boat she had +concealed was lying. She got into it, and, taking the rude oars, pulled +herself into the middle of the swollen stream. Her heart beat so that it +seemed to her as if she could hear it between the strokes of the oar. +The lights were not all out in the village, and she trembled lest she +should see the figure of some watcher looking from the windows in sight +of which she would have to pass, and that a glimpse of this boat stealing +along at so late an hour might give the clue to the secret of her +disappearance, with which the whole region was to be busied in the course +of the next day. + +Presently she came abreast of The Poplars. The house lay so still, so +peaceful,--it would wake to such dismay! The boat slid along beneath her +own overhanging chamber. + +"No song to-morrow from the Fire-hang-bird's Nest!" she said. So she +floated by the slumbering village, the flow of the river carrying her +steadily on, and the careful strokes of the oars adding swiftness to her +flight. + +At last she came to the "Broad Meadows," and knew that she was alone, and +felt confident that she had got away unseen. There was nothing, +absolutely nothing, to point out which way she had gone. Her boat came +from nobody knew where, her disguise had been got together at different +times in such a manner as to lead to no suspicion, and not a human being +ever had the slightest hint that she had planned and meant to carry out +the enterprise which she had now so fortunately begun. + +Not till the last straggling house had been long past, not till the +meadows were stretched out behind her as well as before her, spreading +far off into the distance on each side, did she give way to the sense of +wild exultation which was coming fast over her. But then, at last, she +drew a long, long breath, and, standing up in the boat, looked all around +her. The stars were shining over her head and deep down beneath her. +The cool wind came fresh upon her cheek over the long grassy reaches. No +living thing moved in all the wide level circle which lay about her. She +had passed the Red Sea, and was alone in the Desert. + +She threw down her oars, lifted her hands like a priestess, and her +strong, sweet voice burst into song,--the song of the Jewish maiden when +she went out before the chorus of, women and sang that grand solo, which +we all remember in its ancient words, and in their modern paraphrase, + + "Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! + Jehovah hath triumphed, his people are free!" + +The poor child's repertory was limited to songs of the religious sort +mainly, but there was a choice among these. Her aunt's favorites, beside +"China," already mentioned, were "Bangor," which the worthy old New +England clergyman so admired that he actually had the down-east city +called after it, and "Windsor," and "Funeral Hymn." But Myrtle was in no +mood for these. She let off her ecstasy in "Balerma," and "Arlington," +and "Silver Street," and at last in that most riotous of devotional +hymns, which sounds as if it had been composed by a saint who had a +cellar under his chapel,--"Jordan." So she let her wild spirits run +loose; and then a tenderer feeling stole over her, and she sang herself +into a more tranquil mood with the gentle music of "Dundee." And again +she pulled quietly and steadily at her oars, until she reached the wooded +region through which the river winds after leaving the "Broad Meadows." + +The tumult in her blood was calmed, yet every sense and faculty was awake +to the manifold delicious, mysterious impressions of that wonderful June +night, The stars were shining between the tall trees, as if all the +jewels of heaven had been set in one belt of midnight sky. The voices of +the wind, as they sighed through the pines, seemed like the breath of a +sleeping child, and then, as they lisped from the soft, tender leaves of +beeches and maples, like the half-articulate whisper of the mother +hushing all the intrusive sounds that might awaken it. Then came the +pulsating monotone of the frogs from a far-off pool, the harsh cry of an +owl from an old tree that overhung it, the splash of a mink or musquash, +and nearer by, the light step of a woodchuck, as he cantered off in his +quiet way to his hole in the nearest bank. The laurels were just coming +into bloom,--the yellow lilies, earlier than their fairer sisters, +pushing their golden cups through the water, not content, like those, to +float on the surface of the stream that fed them, emblems of showy +wealth, and, like that, drawing all manner of insects to feed upon them. +The miniature forests of ferns came down to the edge of the stream, their +tall, bending plumes swaying in the night breeze. Sweet odors from +oozing pines, from dewy flowers, from spicy leaves, stole out of the +tangled thickets, and made the whole scene more dream-like with their +faint, mingled suggestions. + +By and by the banks of the river grew lower and marshy, and in place of +the larger forest-trees which had covered them stood slender tamaracks, +sickly, mossy, looking as if they had been moon-struck and were out of +their wits, their tufts of leaves staring off every way from their +spindling branches. The winds came cool and damp out of the +hiding-places among their dark recesses. The country people about here +called this region the "Witches' Hollow," and had many stories about the +strange things that happened there. The Indians used to hold their +"powwows," or magical incantations, upon a broad mound which rose out of +the common level, and where some old hemlocks and beeches formed a dark +grove, which served them as a temple for their demon-worship. There were +many legends of more recent date connected with this spot, some of them +hard to account for, and no superstitious or highly imaginative person +would have cared to pass through it alone in the dead of the night, as +this young girl was doing. + +She knew nothing of all these fables and fancies. Her own singular +experiences in this enchanted region were certainly not suggested by +anything she had heard, and may be considered psychologically curious by +those who would not think of attributing any mystical meaning to them. +We are at liberty to report many things without attempting to explain +them, or committing ourselves to anything beyond the fact that so they +were told us. The reader will find Myrtle's "Vision," as written out at +a later period from her recollections, at the end of this chapter. + +The night was passing, and she meant to be as far away as possible from +the village she had left, before morning. But the boat, like all craft +on country rivers, was leaky, and she had to work until tired, bailing it +out, before she was ready for another long effort. The old tin measure, +which was all she had to bail with, leaked as badly as the boat, and her +task was a tedious one. At last she got it in good trim, and sat down to +her oars with the determination to pull steadily as long as her strength +would hold out. + +Hour after hour she kept at her work, sweeping round the long bends where +the river was hollowing out one bank and building new shore on the +opposite one, so as gradually to shift its channel; by clipper-shaped +islands, sharp at the bows looking up stream, sharp too at the stern, +looking down,--their shape solving the navigator's problem of least +resistance, as a certain young artist had pointed out; by slumbering +villages; by outlying farm-houses; between cornfields where the young +plants were springing up in little thready fountains; in the midst of +stumps where the forest had just been felled; through patches, where the +fire of the last great autumnal drought had turned all the green beauty +of the woods into brown desolation; and again amidst broad expanses of +open meadow stretching as far as the eye could reach in the uncertain +light. A faint yellow tinge was beginning to stain the eastern horizon. +Her boat was floating quietly along, for she had at last taken in her +oars, and she was now almost tired out with toil and excitement. She +rested her head upon her hands, and felt her eyelids closing in spite of +herself. And now there stole upon her ear a low, gentle, distant murmur, +so soft that it seemed almost to mingle with the sound of her own +breathing, but so steady, so uniform, that it soothed her to sleep, as if +it were the old cradle-song the ocean used to sing to her, or the lullaby +of her fair young mother. + +So she glided along, slowly, slowly, down the course of the winding +river, and the flushing dawn kindled around her as she slumbered, and the +low, gentle murmur grew louder and louder, but still she slept, dreaming +of the murmuring ocean. + + + + +APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. + +MYRTLE HAZARD'S STATEMENT. + +"A Vision seen by me, Myrtle Hazard, aged fifteen, on the night of June +15, 1859. Written out at the request of a friend from my recollections. + +"The place where I saw these sights is called, as I have been told since, +Witches' Hollow. I had never been there before, and did not know that it +was called so, or anything about it. + +"The first strange thing that I noticed was on coming near a kind of hill +or mound that rose out of the low meadows. I saw a burning cross lying +on the slope of that mound. It burned with a pale greenish light, and +did not waste, though I watched it for a long time, as the boat I was in +moved slowly with the current and I had stopped rowing. + +"I know that my eyes were open, and I was awake while I was looking at +this cross. I think my eyes were open when I saw these other +appearances, but I felt just as if I were dreaming while awake. + +"I heard a faint rustling sound, and on looking up I saw many figures +moving around me, and I seemed to see myself among them as if I were +outside of myself. + +"The figures did not walk, but slid or glided with an even movement, as +if without any effort. They made many gestures, and seemed to speak, but +I cannot tell whether I heard what they said, or knew its meaning in some +other way. + +"I knew the faces of some of these figures. They were the same I have +seen in portraits, as long as I can remember, at the old house where I +was brought up, called The Poplars. I saw my father and my mother as +they look in the two small pictures; also my grandmother, and her father +and mother and grandfather, and one other person, who lived a great while +ago. All of these have been long dead, and the longer they had been dead +the less like substance they looked and the more like shadows, so that +the oldest was like one's breath of a frosty morning, but shaped like the +living figure. + +"There was no motion of their breasts, and their lips seemed to be moving +as if they were saying, Breath! Breath! Breath! I thought they wanted +to breathe the air of this world again in my shape, which I seemed to see +as it were empty of myself and of these other selves, like a sponge that +has water pressed out of it. + +"Presently it seemed to me that I returned to myself, and then those +others became part of me by being taken up, one by one, and so lost in my +own life. + +"My father and mother came up, hand in hand, looking more real than any +of the rest. Their figures vanished, and they seemed to have become a +part of me; for I felt all at once the longing to live over the life they +had led, on the sea and in strange countries. + +"Another figure was just like the one we called the Major, who was a very +strong, hearty-looking man, and who is said to have drank hard sometimes, +though there is nothing about it on his tombstone, which I used to read +in the graveyard. It seemed to me that there was something about his +life that I did not want to make a part of mine, but that there was some +right he had in me through my being of his blood, and so his health and +his strength went all through me, and I was always to have what was left +of his life in that shadow-like shape, forming a portion of mine. + +"So in the same way with the shape answering to the portrait of that +famous beauty who was the wife of my great-grandfather, and used to be +called the Pride of the County. + +"And so too with another figure which had the face of that portrait +marked on the back, Ruth Bradford, who married one of my ancestors, and +was before the court, as I have heard, in the time of the witchcraft +trials. + +"There was with the rest a dark, wild-looking woman, with a head-dress of +feathers. She kept as it were in shadow, but I saw something of my own +features in her face. + +"It was on my mind very strongly that the shape of that woman of our +blood who was burned long ago by the Papists came very close to me, and +was in some way made one with mine, and that I feel her presence with me +since, as if she lived again in me; but not always,--only at times,--and +then I feel borne up as if I could do anything in the world. I had a +feeling as if she were my guardian and protector. + +"It seems to me that these, and more, whom I have not mentioned, do +really live over some part of their past lives in my life. I do not +understand it all, and perhaps it can be accounted for in some way I have +not thought of. I write it down as nearly as I can give it from memory, +by request, and if it is printed at this time had rather have all the +real names withheld. + +"MYRTLE HAZARD." + + +NOTE BY THE FRIEND. + +"This statement must be accounted for in some way, or pass into the +category of the supernatural. Probably it was one of those intuitions, +with objective projection, which sometimes come to imaginative young +persons, especially girls, in certain exalted nervous conditions. The +study of the portraits, with the knowledge of some parts of the history +of the persons they represented, and the consciousness of instincts +inherited in all probability from these same ancestors, formed the basis +of Myrtle's 'Vision.' The lives of our progenitors are, as we know, +reproduced in different proportions in ourselves. Whether they as +individuals have any consciousness of it, is another matter. It is +possible that they do get a second as it were fractional life in us. It +might seem that many of those whose blood flows in our veins struggle for +the mastery, and by and by one or more get the predominance, so that we +grow to be like father, or mother, or remoter ancestor, or two or more +are blended in us, not to the exclusion, however, it must be understood, +of a special personality of our own, about which these others are +grouped. Independently of any possible scientific value, this 'Vision' +serves to illustrate the above-mentioned fact of common experience, which +is not sufficiently weighed by most moralists. + +"How much it may be granted to certain young persons to see, not in +virtue of their intellectual gifts, but through those direct channels +which worldly wisdom may possibly close to the luminous influx, each +reader must determine for himself by his own standards of faith and +evidence. + +"One statement of the narrative admits of a simple natural explanation, +which does not allow the lovers of the marvellous to class it with the +quasi-miraculous appearance seen by Colonel Gardiner, and given in full +by Dr. Doddridge in his Life of that remarkable Christian soldier. +Decaying wood is often phosphorescent, as many readers must have seen for +themselves. The country people are familiar with the sight of it in wild +timber-land, and have given it the name of 'Fox-fire.' Two trunks of +trees in this state, lying across each other, will account for the fact +observed, and vindicate the truth of the young girl's story without +requiring us to suppose any exceptional occurrence outside of natural +laws." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +MR. CLEMENT LINDSAY RECEIVES A LETTER, AND BEGINS HIS ANSWER. + +It was already morning when a young man living in the town of Alderbank, +after lying awake for an hour thinking the unutterable thoughts that +nineteen years of life bring to the sleeping and waking dreams of young +people, rose from his bed, and, half dressing himself, sat down at his +desk, from which he took a letter, which he opened and read. It was +written in a delicate, though hardly formed female hand, and crossed like +a checker-board, as is usual with these redundant manuscripts. The +letter was as follows: + +OXBOW VILLAGE, June 13, 1859. + +MY DEAREST CLEMENT,--You was so good to write me such a sweet little bit +of a letter,--only, dear, you never seem to be in quite so good spirits +as you used to be. I wish your Susie was with you to cheer you up; but +no, she must be patient, and you must be patient too, for you are so +ambitious! I have heard you say so many times that nobody could be a +great artist without passing years and years at work, and growing pale +and lean with thinking so hard. You won't grow pale and lean, I hope; +for I do so love to see that pretty color in your cheeks you have always +had ever since I have known you; and besides, I do not believe you will +have to work so very hard to do something great,--you have so much +genius, and people of genius do such beautiful things with so little +trouble. You remember those beautiful lines out of our newspaper I sent +you? Well, Mr. Hopkins told me he wrote those lines in one evening +without stopping! I wish you could see Mr. Hopkins,--he is a very +talented person. I cut out this little piece about him from the paper on +purpose to show you,--for genius loves genius,--and you would like to +hear him read his own poetry,--he reads it beautifully. Please send this +piece from the paper back, as I want to put it in my scrapbook, under his +autograph:-- + +"Our young townsman, Mr. Gifted Hopkins, has proved himself worthy of the +name he bears. His poetical effusions are equally creditable to his head +and his heart, displaying the highest order of genius and powers of +imagination and fancy hardly second to any writer of the age. He is +destined to make a great sensation in the world of letters." + +Mrs. Hopkins is the same good soul she always was. She is very proud of +her son, as is natural, and keeps a copy of everything he writes. I +believe she cries over them every time she reads them. You don't know +how I take to little Sossy and Minthy, those two twins I have written to +you about before. Poor little creatures,--what a cruel thing it was in +their father and mother not to take care of them! What do you think? Old +bachelor Gridley lets them come up into his room, and builds forts and +castles for them with his big books! "The world's coming to an end," +Mrs. Hopkins said the first time he did so. He looks so savage with that +scowl of his, and talks so gruff when he is scolding at things in +general, that nobody would have believed he would have let such little +things come anywhere near him. But he seems to be growing kind to all of +us and everybody. I saw him talking to the Fire-hang-bird the other day. +You know who the Fire-hang-bird is, don't you? Myrtle Hazard her name +is. I wish you could see her. I don't know as I do, though. You would +want to make a statue of her, or a painting, I know. She is so handsome +that all the young men stand round to see her come out of meeting. Some +say that Lawyer Bradshaw is after her; but my! he is ten years older than +she is. She is nothing but a girl, though she looks as if she was +eighteen. She lives up at a place called The Poplars, with an old woman +that is her aunt or something, and nobody seems to be much acquainted +with her except Olive Eveleth, who is the minister's daughter at Saint +Bartholomew's Church. She never has beauxs round her, as some young +girls do--they say that she is not happy with her aunt and another woman +that stays with her, and that is the reason she keeps so much to herself. +The minister came to see me the other day,--Mr. Stoker his name is. I +was all alone, and it frightened me, for he looks, oh, so solemn on +Sundays! But he called me "My dear," and did n't say anything horrid, +you know, about my being such a dreadful, dreadful sinner, as I have +heard of his saying to some people,--but he looked very kindly at me, and +took my hand, and laid his hand on my shoulder like a brother, and hoped +I would come and see him in his study. I suppose I must go, but I don't +want to. I don't seem to like him exactly. + +I hope you love me as well as ever you did. I can't help feeling +sometimes as if you was growing away from me,--you know what I +mean,--getting to be too great a person for such a small person as I am. + +I know I can't always understand you when you talk about art, and that +you know a great deal too much for such a simple girl as I am. Oh, if I +thought I could never make you happy!... There, now! I am almost +ashamed to send this paper so spotted. Gifted Hopkins wrote some +beautiful verses one day on "A Maiden Weeping." He compared the tears +falling from her eyes to the drops of dew which one often sees upon the +flowers in the morning. Is n't it a pretty thought? + +I wish I loved art as well as I do poetry; but I am afraid I have not so +much taste as some girls have. You remember how I liked that picture in +the illustrated magazine, and you said it was horrid. I have been afraid +since to like almost anything, for fear you should tell me some time or +other it was horrid. Don't you think I shall ever learn to know what is +nice from what is n't? + +Oh, dear Clement, I wish you would do one thing to please me. Don't say +no, for you can do everything you try to,--I am sure you can. I want you +to write me some poetry,--just three or four little verses TO SUZIE. Oh, +I should feel so proud to have some lines written all on purpose for me. +Mr. Hopkins wrote some the other day, and printed them in the paper, "To +M---e." I believe he meant them for Myrtle,--the first and last letter +of her name, you see, "M" and "e." + +Your letter was a dear one, only so short! I wish you would tell me all +about what you are doing at Alderbank. Have you made that model of +Innocence that is to have my forehead, and hair parted like mine! Make it +pretty, do, that is a darling. + +Now don't make a face at my letter. It is n't a very good one, I know; +but your poor little Susie does the best she can, and she loves you so +much! + +Now do be nice and write me one little bit of a mite of a poem,--it will +make me just as happy! + +I am very well, and as happy as I can be when you are away. + +Your affectionate SUSIE. + +(Directed to Mr. Clement Lindsay, Alderbank.) + +The envelope of this letter was unbroken, as was before said, when the +young man took it from his desk. He did not tear it with the hot +impatience of some lovers, but cut it open neatly, slowly, one would say +sadly. He read it with an air of singular effort, and yet with a certain +tenderness. When he had finished it, the drops were thick on his +forehead; he groaned and put his hands to his face, which was burning +red. + +This was what the impulse of boyhood, years ago, had brought him to! He +was a stately youth, of noble bearing, of high purpose, of fastidious +taste; and, if his broad forehead, his clear, large blue eyes, his +commanding features, his lips, firm, yet plastic to every change of +thought and feeling, were not an empty mask, might not improbably claim +that Promethean quality of which the girl's letter had spoken,--the +strange, divine, dread gift of genius. + +This poor, simple, innocent, trusting creature, so utterly incapable of +coming into any true relation with his aspiring mind, his large and +strong emotions,--this mere child, all simplicity and goodness, but +trivial and shallow as the little babbling brooklet that ran by his +window to the river, to lose its insignificant being in the swift torrent +he heard rushing over the rocks,--this pretty idol for a weak and kindly +and easily satisfied worshipper, was to be enthroned as the queen of his +affections, to be adopted as the companion of his labors! The boy, led +by the commonest instinct, the mere attraction of biped to its female, +which accident had favored, had thrown away the dearest possession of +manhood,--liberty,--and this bauble was to be his lifelong reward! And +yet not a bauble either, for a pleasing person and a gentle and sweet +nature, which had once made her seem to him the very paragon of +loveliness, were still hers. Alas! her simple words were true,--he had +grown away from her. Her only fault was that she had not grown with him, +and surely he could not reproach her with that. + +"No," he said to himself, "I will never leave her so long as her heart +clings to me. I have been rash, but she shall not pay the forfeit. And +if I may think of myself, my life need not be wretched because she cannot +share all my being with me. The common human qualities are more than all +exceptional gifts. She has a woman's heart; and what talent of mine is +to be named by the love a true woman can offer in exchange for these +divided and cold affections? If it had pleased God to mate me with one +more equal in other ways, who could share my thoughts, who could kindle +my inspiration, who had wings to rise into the air with me as well as +feet to creep by my side upon the earth,--what cannot such a woman do for +a man! + +"What! cast away the flower I took in the bud because it does not show as +I hoped it would when it opened? I will stand by my word; I will be all +as a man that I promised as a boy. Thank God, she is true and pure and +sweet. My nest will be a peaceful one; but I must take wing +alone,--alone." + +He drew one long sigh, and the cloud passed from his countenance. He +must answer that letter now, at once. There were reasons, he thought, +which made it important. And so, with the cheerfulness which it was kind +and becoming to show, so far as possible, and yet with a little +excitement on one particular point, which was the cause of his writing so +promptly, he began his answer. + +ALDERBANK, Thursday morning, June 16, 1859. + +MY DEAR SUSIE,--I have just been reading your pleasant letter; and if I +do not send you the poem you ask for so eloquently, I will give you a +little bit of advice, which will do just as well,--won't it, my dear? I +was interested in your account of various things going on at Oxbow +Village. I am very glad you find young Mr. Hopkins so agreeable a +friend. His poetry is better than some which I see printed in the +village papers, and seems generally unexceptionable in its subjects and +tone. I do not believe he is a dangerous companion, though the habit of +writing verse does not always improve the character. I think I have seen +it make more than one of my acquaintances idle, conceited, sentimental, +and frivolous,--perhaps it found them so already. Don't make too much of +his talent, and particularly don't let him think that because he can +write verses he has nothing else to do in this world. That is for his +benefit, dear, and you must skilfully apply it. + +Now about yourself. My dear Susie, there was something in your letter +that did not please me. You speak of a visit from the Rev. Mr. Stoker, +and of his kind, brotherly treatment, his cordiality of behavior, and his +asking you to visit him in his study. I am very glad to hear you say +that you "don't seem to like him." He is very familiar, it seems to me, +for so new an acquaintance. What business had he to be laying his hand +on your shoulder? I should like to see him try these free-and-easy ways +in my presence! He would not have taken that liberty, my dear! No, he +was alone with you, and thought it safe to be disrespectfully familiar. +I want you to maintain your dignity always with such persons, and I beg +you not to go to the study of this clergyman, unless some older friend +goes with you on every occasion, and sits through the visit. I must +speak plainly to you, my dear, as I have a right to. If the minister has +anything of importance to say, let it come through the lips of some +mature person. It may lose something of the fervor with which it would +have been delivered at first hand, but the great rules of Christian life +are not so dependent on the particular individual who speaks them, that +you must go to this or that young man to find out what they are. If to +any man, I should prefer the old gentleman whom you have mentioned in +your letters, Father Pemberton. You understand me, my dear girl, and the +subject is not grateful. You know how truly I am interested in all that +relates to you,--that I regard you with an affection which-- + + HELP! HELP! HELP! + +A cry as of a young person's voice was heard faintly, coming from the +direction of the river. Something in the tone of it struck to his heart, +and he sprang as if he had been stabbed. He flung open his chamber +window and leaped from it to the ground. He ran straight to the bank of +the river by the side of which the village of Alderbank was built, a +little farther down the stream than the house in which he was living. + +Everybody that travels in that region knows the beautiful falls which +break the course of the river just above the village; narrow and swift, +and surrounded by rocks of such picturesque forms that they are sought +and admired by tourists. The stream was now swollen, and rushed in a +deep and rapid current over the ledges, through the rocky straits, +plunging at last in tumult and foam, with loud, continuous roar, into the +depths below the cliff from which it tumbled. + +A short distance above the fall there projected from the water a rock +which had, by parsimonious saving during a long course of years, hoarded +a little soil, out of which a small tuft of bushes struggled to support +a decent vegetable existence. The high waters had nearly submerged it, +but a few slender twigs were seen above their surface. + +A skiff was lying close to this rock, between it and the brink of the +fall, which was but a few rods farther down. In the skiff was a youth of +fourteen or fifteen years, holding by the slender twigs, the boat +dragging at them all the time, and threatening to tear them away and go +over the fall. It was not likely that the boy would come to shore alive +if it did. There were stories, it is true, that the Indians used to +shoot the fall in their canoes with safety; but everybody knew that at +least three persons had been lost by going over it since the town was +settled; and more than one dead body had been found floating far down the +river, with bruises and fractured bones, as if it had taken the same +fatal plunge. + +There was no time to lose. Clement ran a little way up the river-bank, +flung off his shoes, and sprang from the bank as far as he could leap +into the water. The current swept him toward the fall, but he worked +nearer and nearer the middle of the stream. He was making for the rock, +thinking he could plant his feet upon it and at the worst hold the boat +until he could summon other help by shouting. He had barely got his feet +upon the rock, when the twigs by which the boy was holding gave way. He +seized the boat, but it dragged him from his uncertain footing, and with +a desperate effort he clambered over its side and found himself its +second doomed passenger. + +There was but an instant for thought. + +"Sit still," he said, "and, just as we go over, put your arms round me +under mine, and don't let go for your life!" + +He caught up the single oar, and with a few sharp paddle-strokes brought +the skiff into the blackest centre of the current, where it was deepest, +and would plunge them into the deepest pool. + +"Hold your breath! God save us! Now!" + +They rose, as if with one will, and stood for an instant, the arms of the +younger closely embracing the other as he had directed. + +A sliding away from beneath them of the floor on which they stood, as the +drop fails under the feet of a felon. A great rush of air, and a mighty, +awful, stunning roar,--an involuntary gasp, a choking flood of water that +came bellowing after them, and hammered them down into the black depths +so far that the young man, though used to diving and swimming long +distances underwater, had well-nigh yielded to the fearful need of air, +and sucked in his death in so doing. + +The boat came up to the surface, broken in twain, splintered, a load of +firewood for those who raked the river lower down. It had turned +crosswise, and struck the rocks. A cap rose to the surface, such a one +as boys wear,--the same that boy had on. And then--after how many +seconds by the watch cannot be known, but after a time long enough, as +the young man remembered it, to live his whole life over in +memory--Clement Lindsay felt the blessed air against his face, and, +taking a great breath, came to his full consciousness. The arms of the +boy were still locked around him as in the embrace of death. A few +strokes brought him to the shore, dragging his senseless burden with him. + +He unclasped the arms that held him so closely encircled, and laid the +slender form of the youth he had almost died to save gently upon the +grass. It was as if dead. He loosed the ribbon that was round the neck, +he tore open the checked shirt-- + +The story of Myrtle Hazard's sex was told; but she was deaf to his cry of +surprise, and no blush came to her cold cheek. Not too late, perhaps, to +save her,--not too late to try to save her, at least! + +He placed his lips to hers, and filled her breast with the air from his +own panting chest. Again and again he renewed these efforts, hoping, +doubting, despairing,--once more hoping, and at last, when he had almost +ceased to hope, she gasped, she breathed, she moaned, and rolled her eyes +wildly round her, she was born again into this mortal life. + +He caught her up in his arms, bore her to the house, laid her on a sofa, +and, having spent his strength in this last effort, reeled and fell, and +lay as one over whom have just been whispered the words, + +"He is gone." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +MR. CLEMENT LINDSAY FINISHES HIS LETTER--WHAT CAME OF IT. + +The first thing Clement Lindsay did, when he was fairly himself again, +was to finish his letter to Susan Posey. He took it up where it left +off, "with an affection which----" and drew a long dash, as above. It was +with great effort he wrote the lines which follow, for he had got an ugly +blow on the forehead, and his eyes were "in mourning," as the gentlemen +of the ring say, with unbecoming levity. + +"An adventure! Just as I was writing these last words, I heard the cry +of a young person, as it sounded, for help. I ran to the river and +jumped in, and had the pleasure of saving a life. I got some bruises +which have laid me up for a day or two; but I am getting over them very +well now, and you need not worry about me at all. I will write again +soon; so pray do not fret yourself, for I have had no hurt that will +trouble me for any time." + +Of course, poor Susan Posey burst out crying, and cried as if her heart +would break. Oh dear! Oh dear! what should she do! He was almost +killed, she knew he was, or he had broken some of his bones. Oh dear! Oh +dear! She would go and see him, there!--she must and would. He would +die, she knew he would,--and so on. + +It was a singular testimony to the evident presence of a human element in +Mr. Bytes Gridley that the poor girl, on her extreme trouble, should +think of him as a counsellor. But the wonderful relenting kind of look +on his grave features as he watched the little twins tumbling about his +great books, and certain marks of real sympathy he had sometimes shown +for her in her lesser woes, encouraged her, and she went straight to his +study, letter in hand. She gave a timid knock at the door of that awful +sanctuary. + +"Come in, Susan Posey," was its answer, in a pleasant tone. The old +master knew her light step and the maidenly touch of her small hand on +the panel. + +What a sight! 'there were Sossy and Minthy intrenched in a Sebastopol +which must have cost a good half-hour's engineering, and the terrible +Bytes Gridley besieging the fortress with hostile manifestations of the +most singular character. He was actually discharging a large sugar-plum +at the postern gate, which having been left unclosed, the missile would +certainly have reached one of the garrison, when he paused as the door +opened, and the great round spectacles and four wide, staring infants' +eyes were levelled at Miss Susan Posey. + +She almost forgot her errand, grave as it was, in astonishment at this +manifestation. The old man had emptied his shelves of half their folios +to build up the fort, in the midst of which he had seated the two +delighted and uproarious babes. There was his Cave's "Historia +Literaria," and Sir Walter Raleigh's "History of the World," and a whole +array of Christian Fathers, and Plato, and Aristotle, and Stanley's book +of Philosophers, with Effigies, and the Junta Galen, and the Hippocrates +of Foesius, and Walton's Polyglot, supported by Father Sanchez on one +side and Fox's "Acts and Monuments" on the other,--an odd collection, as +folios from lower shelves are apt to be. + +The besieger discharged his sugar-plum, which was so well aimed that it +fell directly into the lap of Minthy, who acted with it as if the +garrison had been on short rations for some time. + +He saw at once, on looking up, that there was trouble. "What now, Susan +Posey, my dear?" + +"O Mr. Gridley, I am in such trouble! What shall I do? What shall I +do?" + +She turned back the name and the bottom of the letter in such a way that +Mr. Gridley could read nothing but the few lines relating their +adventure. + +"So Mr. Clement Lindsay has been saving a life, has he, and got some hard +knocks doing it, hey, Susan Posey? Well, well, Clement Lindsay is a +brave fellow, and there is no need of hiding his name, my child. Let me +take the letter again a moment, Susan Posey. What is the date of it? +June 16th. Yes,--yes,--yes!" + +He read the paragraph over again, and the signature too, if he wanted to; +for poor Susan had found that her secret was hardly opaque to those round +spectacles and the eyes behind them, and, with a not unbecoming blush, +opened the fold of the letter before she handed it back. + +"No, no, Susan Posey. He will come all right. His writing is steady, +and if he had broken any bones he would have mentioned it. It's a thing +his wife will be proud of, if he is ever married, Susan Posey," +(blushes,) "and his children too," (more blushes running up to her back +hair,) "and there 's nothing to be worried about. But I'll tell you +what, my dear, I've got a little business that calls me down the river +tomorrow, and I shouldn't mind stopping an hour at Alderbank and seeing +how our young friend Clement Lindsay is; and then, if he was going to +have a long time of it, why we could manage it somehow that any friend +who had any special interest in him could visit him, just to while away +the tiresomeness of being sick. That's it, exactly. I'll stop at +Alderbank, Susan Posey. Just clear up these two children for me, will +you, my dear? Isosceles, come now,--that 's a good child. Helminthia, +carry these sugar-plums down--stairs for me, and take good care of them, +mind!" + +It was a case of gross bribery and corruption, for the fortress was +immediately, evacuated on the receipt of a large paper of red and white +comfits, and the garrison marched down--stairs much like conquerors, +under the lead of the young lady, who was greatly eased in mind by the +kind words and the promise of Mr. Byles Gridley. + +But he, in the mean time, was busy with thoughts she did not suspect. "A +young person," he said to himself,--"why a young person? Why not say a +boy, if it was a boy? What if this should be our handsome truant?--'June +16th, Thursday morning!'--About time to get to Alderbank by the river, I +should think. None of the boats missing? What then? She may have made a +raft, or picked up some stray skiff. Who knows? And then got +shipwrecked, very likely. There are rapids and falls farther along the +river. It will do no harm to go down there and look about, at any rate." + +On Saturday morning, therefore, Mr. Byles Gridley set forth to procure a +conveyance to make a visit, as he said, dawn the river, and perhaps be +gone a day or two. He went to a stable in the village, and asked if they +could let him have a horse. + +The man looked at him with that air of native superiority which the +companionship of the generous steed confers on all his associates, down +to the lightest weight among the jockeys. + +"Wal, I hain't got nothin' in the shape of a h'oss, Mr. Gridley. I've got +a mare I s'pose I could let y' have." + +"Oh, very well," said the old master, with a twinkle in his eye as sly as +the other's wink,--he had parried a few jokes in his time,--"they charge +half-price for mares always, I believe." + +That was a new view of the subject. It rather took the wind out of the +stable-keeper, and set a most ammoniacal fellow, who stood playing with a +currycomb, grinning at his expense. But he rallied presently. + +"Wal, I b'lieve they do for some mares, when they let 'em to some folks; +but this here ain't one o' them mares, and you ain't one o' them folks. +All my cattle's out but this critter, 'n' I don't jestly want to have +nobody drive her that ain't pretty car'ful,--she's faast, I tell +ye,--don't want no whip.--How fur d' d y' want t' go?" + +Mr. Gridley was quite serious now, and let the man know that he wanted +the mare and a light covered wagon, at once, to be gone for one or two +days, and would waive the question of sex in the matter of payment. + +Alderbank was about twenty miles down the river by the road. On arriving +there, he inquired for the house where a Mr. Lindsay lived. There was +only one Lindsay family in town,--he must mean Dr. William Lindsay. His +house was up there a little way above the village, lying a few rods back +from the river. + +He found the house without difficulty, and knocked at the door. A +motherly-looking woman opened it immediately, and held her hand up as if +to ask him to speak and move softly. + +"Does Mr. Clement Lindsay live here?" + +"He is staying here for the present. He is a nephew of ours. He is in +his bed from an injury." + +"Nothing very serious, I hope?" + +"A bruise on his head,--not very bad, but the doctor was afraid of +erysipelas. Seems to be doing well enough now." + +"Is there a young person here, a stranger?" + +"There is such a young person here. Do you come with any authority to +make inquiries?" + +"I do. A young friend of mine is missing, and I thought it possible I +might learn something here about it. Can I see this young person?" + +The matron came nearer to Byles Gridley, and said: "This person is a +young woman disguised as a boy. She was rescued by my nephew at the risk +of his life, and she has been delirious ever since she has recovered her +consciousness. She was almost too far gone to be resuscitated, but +Clement put his mouth to hers and kept her breathing until her own breath +returned and she gradually came to." + +"Is she violent in her delirium?" + +"Not now. No; she is quiet enough, but wandering,--wants to know where +she is, and whose the strange faces are,--mine and my husband's,--that 's +Dr. Lindsay,--and one of my daughters, who has watched with her." + +"If that is so, I think I had better see her. If she is the person I +suspect her to be, she will know me; and a familiar face may bring back +her recollections and put a stop to her wanderings. If she does not know +me, I will not stay talking with her. I think she will, if she is the +one I am seeking after. There is no harm in trying." + +Mrs. Lindsay took a good long look at the old man. There was no +mistaking his grave, honest, sturdy, wrinkled, scholarly face. His voice +was assured and sincere in its tones. His decent black coat was just +what a scholar's should be,--old, not untidy, a little shiny at the +elbows with much leaning on his study-table, but neatly bound at the +cuffs, where worthy Mrs. Hopkins had detected signs of fatigue and come +to the rescue. His very hat looked honest as it lay on the table. It +had moulded itself to a broad, noble head, that held nothing but what was +true and fair, with a few harmless crotchets just to fill in with, and it +seemed to know it. + +The good woman gave him her confidence at once. "Is the person you are +seeking a niece or other relative of yours?" + +(Why did not she ask if the girl was his daughter? What is that look of +paternity and of maternity which observing and experienced mothers and +old nurses know so well in men and in women?) + +"No, she is not a relative. But I am acting for those who are." + +"Wait a moment and I will go and see that the room is all right." + +She returned presently. "Follow me softly, if you please. She is +asleep,--so beautiful,--so innocent!" + +Byles Gridley, Master of Arts, retired professor, more than sixty years +old, childless, loveless, stranded in a lonely study strewed with wrecks +of the world's thought, his work in life finished, his one literary +venture gone down with all it held, with nobody to care for him but +accidental acquaintances, moved gently to the side of the bed and looked +upon the pallid, still features of Myrtle Hazard. He strove hard against +a strange feeling that was taking hold of him, that was making his face +act rebelliously, and troubling his eyes with sudden films. He made a +brief stand against this invasion. "A weakness,--a weakness!" he said to +himself. "What does all this mean? Never such a thing for these twenty +years! Poor child! poor child!--Excuse me, madam," he said, after a +little interval, but for what offence he did not mention. A great deal +might be forgiven, even to a man as old as Byles Gridley, looking upon +such a face,--so lovely, yet so marked with the traces of recent +suffering, and even now showing by its changes that she was struggling in +some fearful dream. Her forehead contracted, she started with a slight +convulsive movement, and then her lips parted, and the cry escaped from +them,--how heart-breaking when there is none to answer it,--"Mother!" + +Gone back again through all the weary, chilling years of her girlhood to +that hardly remembered morning of her life when the cry she uttered was +answered by the light of loving eyes, the kiss of clinging lips, the +embrace of caressing arms! + +"It is better to wake her," Mrs. Lindsay said; "she is having a troubled +dream. Wake up, my child, here is a friend waiting to see you." + +She laid her hand very gently on Myrtle's forehead. Myrtle opened her +eyes, but they were vacant as yet. + +"Are we dead?" she said. "Where am I? This is n't heaven--there are no +angels--Oh, no, no, no! don't send me to the other place--fifteen +years,--only fifteen years old--no father, no mother--nobody loved me. +Was it wicked in me to live?" Her whole theological training was +condensed in that last brief question. + +The, old man took her hand and looked her in the face, with a wonderful +tenderness in his squared features. "Wicked to live, my dear? No +indeed! Here! look at me, my child; don't you know your old friend Byles +Gridley?" + +She was awake now. The sight of a familiar countenance brought back a +natural train of thought. But her recollection passed over everything +that had happened since Thursday morning. + +"Where is the boat I was in?" she said. "I have just been in the water, +and I was dreaming that I was drowned. Oh! Mr. Gridley, is that you? +Did you pull me out of the water?" + +"No, my dear, but you are out of it, and safe and sound: that is the main +point. How do you feel now you are awake?" + +She yawned, and stretched her arms and looked round, but did not answer +at first. This was all natural, and a sign that she was coming right. +She looked down at her dress. It was not inappropriate to her sex, being +a loose gown that belonged to one of the girls in the house. + +"I feel pretty well," she answered, "but a little confused. My boat will +be gone, if you don't run and stop it now. How did you get me into dry +clothes so quick?" + +Master Byles Gridley found himself suddenly possessed by a large and +luminous idea of the state of things, and made up his mind in a moment as +to what he must do. There was no time to be lost. Every day, every +hour, of Myrtle's absence was not only a source of anxiety and a cause of +useless searching but it gave room for inventive fancies to imagine evil. +It was better to run some risk of injury to health, than to have her +absence prolonged another day. + +"Has this adventure been told about in the village, Mrs. Lindsay?" + +"No, we thought it best to wait until she could tell her own story, +expecting her return to consciousness every hour, and thinking there +might be some reason for her disguise which it would be kinder to keep +quiet about." + +"You know nothing about her, then?" + +"Not a word. It was a great question whether to tell the story and make +inquiries; but she was safe, and could hardly bear disturbance, and, my +dear sir, it seemed too probable that there was some sad story behind +this escape in disguise, and that the poor child might need shelter and +retirement. We meant to do as well as we could for her." + +"All right, Mrs. Lindsay. You do not know who she is, then?" + +"No, sir, and perhaps it is as well that I should not know. Then I shall +not have to answer any questions about it." + +"Very good, madam,--just as it should be. And your family, are they as +discreet as yourself?" + +"Not one word of the whole story has been or will be told by any one of +us. That was agreed upon among us." + +"Now then, madam. My name, as you heard me say, is Byles Gridley. Your +husband will know it, perhaps; at any rate I will wait until he comes +back. This child is of good family and of good name. I know her well, +and mean, with your kind help, to save her from the consequences which +her foolish adventure might have brought upon her. Before the bells ring +for meeting to-morrow morning this girl must be in her bed at her home, +at Oxbow Village, and we must keep her story to ourselves as far as may +be. It will all blow over, if we do. The gossips will only know that +she was upset in the river and cared for by some good people,--good +people and sensible people too, Mrs. Lindsay. And now I want to see the +young man that rescued my friend here,--Clement Lindsay, I have heard his +name before." + +Clement was not a beauty for the moment, but Master Gridley saw well +enough that he was a young man of the right kind. He knew them at sight, +fellows with lime enough in their bones and iron enough in their blood to +begin with,--shapely, large-nerved, firm-fibred and fine-fibred, with +well-spread bases to their heads for the ground-floor of the faculties, +and well-vaulted arches for the upper range of apprehensions and +combinations. "Plenty of basements," he used to say, "without attics and +skylights. Plenty of skylights without rooms enough and space enough +below." But here was "a three-story brain," he said to himself as he +looked at it, and this was the youth who was to find his complement in +our pretty little Susan Posey! His judgment may seem to have been hasty, +but he took the measure of young men of twenty at sight from long and +sagacious observation, as Nurse Byloe knew the "heft" of a baby the +moment she fixed her old eyes on it. + +Clement was well acquainted with Byles Gridley, though he had never seen +him, for Susan's letters had had a good deal to say about him of late. +It was agreed between them that the story should be kept as quiet as +possible, and that the young girl should not know the name of her +deliverer,--it might save awkward complications. It was not likely that +she would be disposed to talk of her adventure, which had ended so +disastrously, and thus the whole story would soon die out. + +The effect of the violent shock she had experienced was to change the +whole nature of Myrtle for the time. Her mind was unsettled: she could +hardly recall anything except the plunge over the fall. She was +perfectly docile and plastic,--was ready to go anywhere Mr. Gridley +wanted her to go, without any sign of reluctance. And so it was agreed +that he should carry her back in his covered wagon that very night. All +possible arrangements were made to render her journey comfortable. The +fast mare had to trot very gently, and the old master would stop and +adjust the pillows from time to time, and administer the restoratives +which the physician had got ready, all as naturally and easily as if he +had been bred a nurse, vastly to his own surprise, and with not a little +gain to his self-appreciation. He was a serviceable kind of body on +occasion, after all, was he not, hey, Mr. Byles Gridley? he said to +himself. + +At half past four o'clock on Sunday morning the shepherd brought the +stray lamb into the paved yard at The Poplars, and roused the slumbering +household to receive back the wanderer. + +It was the Irishwoman, Kitty Fagan, huddled together in such amorphous +guise, that she looked as if she had been fitted in a tempest of +petticoats and a whirlwind of old shawls, who presented herself at the +door. + +But there was a very warm heart somewhere in that queer-looking bundle of +clothes, and it was not one of those that can throb or break in silence. +When she saw the long covered wagon, and the grave face of the old +master, she thought it was all over with the poor girl she loved, and +that this was the undertaker's wagon bringing back only what had once +been Myrtle Hazard. She screamed aloud,--so wildly that Myrtle lifted +her head from the pillow against which she had rested it, and started +forward. + +The Irishwoman looked at her for a moment to assure herself that it was +the girl she loved, and not her ghost. Then it all came over her,--she +had been stolen by thieves, who had carried her off by night, and been +rescued by the brave old man who had brought her back. What crying and +kisses and prayers and blessings were poured forth, in a confusion of +which her bodily costume was a fitting type, those who know the +vocabulary and the enthusiasm of her eloquent race may imagine better +than we could describe it. + +The welcome of the two other women was far less demonstrative. There +were awful questions to be answered before the kind of reception she was +to have could be settled. What they were, it is needless to suggest; but +while Miss Silence was weeping, first with joy that her "responsibility" +was removed, then with a fair share of pity and kindness, and other +lukewarm emotions,--while Miss Badlam waited for an explanation before +giving way to her feelings,--Mr. Gridley put the essential facts before +them in a few words. She had gone down the river some miles in her boat, +which was upset by a rush of the current, and she had come very near +being drowned. She was got out, however, by a person living near by, and +cared for by some kind women in a house near the river, where he had been +fortunate enough to discover her.--Who cut her hair off? Perhaps those +good people,--she had been out of her head. She was alive and unharmed, +at any rate, wanting only a few days' rest. They might be very thankful +to get her back, and leave her to tell the rest of her story when she had +got her strength and memory, for she was not quite herself yet, and might +not be for some days. + +And so there she was at last laid in her own bed, listening again to the +ripple of the waters beneath her, Miss Silence sitting on one side +looking as sympathetic as her insufficient nature allowed her to look; +the Irishwoman uncertain between delight at Myrtle's return and sorrow +for her condition; and Miss Cynthia Badlam occupying herself about +house-matters, not unwilling to avoid the necessity of displaying her +conflicting emotions. + +Before he left the house, Mr. Gridley repeated the statement is the most +precise manner,--some miles down the river--upset and nearly +drowned--rescued almost dead--brought to and cared for by kind women in +the house where he, Byles Gridley, found her. These were the facts, and +nothing more than this was to be told at present. They had better be +made known at once, and the shortest and best way would be to have it +announced by the minister at meeting that forenoon. With their +permission, he would himself write the note for Mr. Stoker to read, and +tell the other ministers that they might announce it to their people. + +The bells rang for meeting, but the little household at The Poplars did +not add to the congregation that day. In the mean time Kitty Fagan had +gone down with Mr. Byles Gridley's note, to carry it to the Rev. Mr. +Stoker. But, on her way, she stopped at the house of one Mrs. Finnegan, +a particular friend of hers; and the great event of the morning +furnishing matter for large discourse, and various social allurements +adding to the fascination of having a story to tell, Kitty Fagan forgot +her note until meeting had begun and the minister had read the text of +his sermon. "Bless my soul! and sure I 've forgot ahl about the letter!" +she cried all at once, and away she tramped for the meeting-house. The +sexton took the note, which was folded, and said he would hand it up to +the pulpit after the sermon,--it would not do to interrupt the preacher. + +The Rev. Mr. Stoker had, as was said, a somewhat remarkable gift in +prayer,--an endowment by no means confined to profoundly spiritual +persons,--in fact, not rarely owing much of its force to a strong animal +nature underlying the higher attributes. The sweet singer of Israel +would never have written such petitions and such hymns if his manhood had +been less complete; the flavor of remembered frailties could not help +giving a character to his most devout exercises, or they would not have +come quite home to our common humanity. But there is no gift more +dangerous to the humility and sincerity of a minister. While his spirit +ought to be on its knees before the throne of grace, it is too apt to be +on tiptoe, following with admiring look the flight of its own rhetoric. +The essentially intellectual character of an extemporaneous composition +spoken to the Creator with the consciousness that many of his creatures +are listening to criticise or to admire, is the great argument for set +forms of prayer. + +The congregation on this particular Sunday was made up chiefly of women +and old men. The young men were hunting after Myrtle Hazard. Mr. Byles +Gridley was in his place, wondering why the minister did not read his +notice before the prayer. This prayer, was never reported, as is the +questionable custom with regard to some of these performances, but it was +wrought up with a good deal of rasping force and broad pathos. When he +came to pray for "our youthful sister, missing from her pious home, +perhaps nevermore to return to her afflicted relatives," and the women +and old men began crying, Byles Gridley was on the very point of getting +up and cutting short the whole matter by stating the simple fact that she +had got back, all right, and suggesting that he had better pray for some +of the older and tougher sinners before him. But on the whole it would +be more decorous to wait, and perhaps he was willing to hear what the +object of his favorite antipathy had to say about it. So he waited +through the prayer. He waited through the hymn, "Life is the time"--He +waited to hear the sermon. + +The minister gave out his text from the Book of Esther, second chapter, +seventh verse: "For she had neither father nor mother, and the maid was +fair and beautiful." It was to be expected that the reverend gentleman, +who loved to produce a sensation, would avail himself of the excitable +state of his audience to sweep the key-board of their emotions, while, as +we may, say, all the stops were drawn out. His sermon was from notes; +for, though absolutely extemporaneous composition may be acceptable to +one's Maker, it is not considered quite the thing in speaking to one's +fellow-mortals. He discoursed for a time on the loss of parents, and on +the dangers to which the unfortunate orphan is exposed. Then he spoke of +the peculiar risks of the tender female child, left without its natural +guardians. Warming with his subject, he dilated with wonderful unction +on the temptations springing from personal attractions. He pictured the +"fair and beautiful" women of Holy Writ, lingering over their names with +lover-like devotion. He brought Esther before his audience, bathed and +perfumed for the royal presence of Ahasuerus. He showed them the sweet +young Ruth, lying down in her innocence at the feet of the lord of the +manor. He dwelt with special luxury on the charms which seduced the +royal psalmist,--the soldier's wife for whom he broke the commands of the +decalogue, and the maiden for whose attentions, in his cooler years, he +violated the dictates of prudence and propriety. All this time Byles +Gridley had his stern eyes on him. And while he kindled into passionate +eloquence on these inspiring themes, poor Bathsheba, whom her mother had +sent to church that she might get a little respite from her home duties, +felt her blood growing cold in her veins, as the pallid image of the +invalid wife, lying on her bed of suffering, rose in the midst of the +glowing pictures which borrowed such warmth from her husband's +imagination. + +The sermon, with its hinted application to the event of the past week, +was over at last. The shoulders of the nervous women were twitching with +sobs. The old men were crying in their vacant way. But all the while the +face of Byles Gridley, firm as a rock in the midst of this lachrymal +inundation, was kept steadily on the preacher, who had often felt the +look that came through the two round glasses searching into the very +marrow of his bones. + +As the sermon was finished, the sexton marched up through the broad aisle +and handed the note over the door of the pulpit to the clergyman, who was +wiping his face after the exertion of delivering his discourse. Mr. +Stoker looked at it, started, changed color,--his vision of "The Dangers +of Beauty, a Sermon printed by Request," had vanished,--and passed the +note to Father Pemberton, who sat by him in the pulpit. With much pains +he deciphered its contents, for his eyes were dim with years, and, having +read it, bowed his head upon his hands in silent thanksgiving. Then he +rose in the beauty of his tranquil and noble old age, so touched with the +message he had to proclaim to his people, that the three deep furrows on +his forehead, which some said he owed to the three dogmas of original +sin, predestination, and endless torment, seemed smoothed for the moment, +and his face was as that of an angel while he spoke. + +"Sisters and Brethren,--Rejoice with us, for we have found our lamb which +had strayed from the fold. This our daughter was dead and is alive +again; she was lost and is found. Myrtle Hazard, rescued from great +peril of the waters, and cared for by good Samaritans, is now in her +home. Thou, O Lord, who didst let the water-flood overflow her, didst +not let the deep swallow her up, nor the pit shut its mouth upon her. +Let us return our thanks to the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God +of Jacob, who is our God and Father, and who hath wrought this great +deliverance." + +After his prayer, which it tried him sorely to utter in unbroken tones, +he gave out the hymn, + + "Lord, thou hast heard thy servant cry, + And rescued from the grave;" + +but it was hardly begun when the leading female voice trembled and +stopped,--and another,--and then a third,--and Father Pemberton, seeing +that they were all overcome, arose and stretched out his arms, and +breathed over them his holy benediction. + +The village was soon alive with the news. The sexton forgot the +solemnity of the Sabbath, and the bell acted as if it was crazy, tumbling +heels over head at such a rate, and with such a clamor, that a good many +thought there was a fire, and, rushing out from every quarter, instantly +caught the great news with which the air was ablaze. + +A few of the young men who had come back went even further in their +demonstrations. They got a small cannon in readiness, and without +waiting for the going down of the sun, began firing rapidly, upon which +the Rev. Mr. Stoker sallied forth to put a stop to this violation of the +Sabbath. But in the mean time it was heard on all the hills, far and +near. Some said they were firing in the hope of raising the corpse; but +many who heard the bells ringing their crazy peals guessed what had +happened. Before night the parties were all in, one detachment bearing +the body of the bob-tailed catamount swung over a pole, like the mighty +cluster of grapes from Eshcol, and another conveying with wise precaution +that monstrous snapping-turtle which those of our friends who wish to see +will find among the specimens marked Chelydra, Serpentine in the great +collection at Cantabridge. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +VEXED WITH A DEVIL. + +It was necessary at once to summon a physician to advise as to the +treatment of Myrtle, who had received a shock, bodily and mental, not +lightly to be got rid of, and very probably to be followed by serious and +varied disturbances. Her very tranquillity was suspicious, for there +must be something of exhaustion in it, and the reaction must come sooner +or later. + +Old Dr. Lemuel Hurlbut, at the age of ninety-two, very deaf, very nearly +blind, very feeble, liable to odd lapses of memory, was yet a wise +counsellor in doubtful and difficult cases, and on rare occasions was +still called upon to exercise his ancient skill. Here was a case in +which a few words from him might soothe the patient and give confidence +to all who were interested in her. Miss Silence Withers went herself to +see him. + +"Miss Withers, father, wants to talk with you about her niece, Miss +Hazard," said Dr. Fordyce Hurlbut. + +"Miss Withers, Miss Withers?--Oh, Silence Withers,--lives up at The +Poplars. How's the Deacon, Miss Withers?" [Ob. 1810.] + +"My grandfather is not living, Dr. Hurlbut," she screamed into his ear. + +"Dead, is he? Well, it isn't long since he was with us; and they come +and go,--they come and go. I remember his father, Major Gideon Withers. +He had a great red feather on training-days,--that was what made me +remember him. Who did you say was sick and wanted to see me, Fordyce?" + +"Myrtle Hazard, father,--she has had a narrow escape from drowning, and +it has left her in a rather nervous state. They would like to have you +go up to The Poplars and take a look at her. You remember Myrtle Hazard? +She is the great-granddaughter of your old friend the Deacon." + +He had to wait a minute before his thoughts would come to order; with a +little time, the proper answer would be evolved by the slow automatic +movement of the rusted mental machinery. + +After the silent moment: "Myrtle Hazard, Myrtle Hazard,--yes, yes, to be +sure! The old Withers stock,--good constitutions,--a little apt to be +nervous, one or two of 'em. I've given 'em a good deal of valerian and +assafoetida,--not quite so much since the new blood came in. There is +n't the change in folks people think,--same thing over and over again. +I've seen six fingers on a child that had a six-fingered great-uncle, and +I've seen that child's grandchild born with six fingers. Does this girl +like to have her own way pretty well, like the rest of the family?" + +"A little too well, I suspect, father. You will remember all about her +when you come to see her and talk with her. She would like to talk with +you, and her aunt wants to see you too; they think there's nobody like +the 'old Doctor'." + +He was not too old to be pleased with this preference, and said he was +willing to go when they were ready. With no small labor of preparation +he was at last got to the house, and crept with his son's aid up to the +little room over the water, where his patient was still lying. + +There was a little too much color in Myrtle's cheeks and a glistening +lustre in her eyes that told of unnatural excitement. It gave a strange +brilliancy to her beauty, and might have deceived an unpractised +observer. The old man looked at her long and curiously, his imperfect +sight excusing the closeness of his scrutiny. + +He laid his trembling hand upon her forehead, and then felt her pulse +with his shriveled fingers. He asked her various questions about +herself, which she answered with a tone not quite so calm as natural, but +willingly and intelligently. They thought she seemed to the old Doctor +to be doing very well, for he spoke cheerfully to her, and treated her in +such a way that neither she nor any of those around her could be alarmed. +The younger physician was disposed to think she was only suffering from +temporary excitement, and that it would soon pass off. + +They left the room to talk it over. + +"It does not amount to much, I suppose, father," said Dr. Fordyce +Hurlbut. "You made the pulse about ninety,--a little hard,--did n't you; +as I did? Rest, and low diet for a day or two, and all will be right, +won't it?" + +Was it the feeling of sympathy, or was it the pride of superior sagacity, +that changed the look of the old man's wrinkled features? "Not so +fast,--not so fast, Fordyce," he said. "I've seen that look on another +face of the same blood,--it 's a great many years ago, and she was dead +before you were born, my boy,--but I've seen that look, and it meant +trouble then, and I'm afraid it means trouble now. I see some danger of +a brain fever. And if she doesn't have that, then look out for some +hysteric fits that will make mischief. Take that handkerchief off of her +head, and cut her hair close, and keep her temples cool, and put some +drawing plasters to the soles of her feet, and give her some of my +pilulae compositae, and follow them with some doses of sal polychrest. +I've been through it all before--in that same house. Live folks are only +dead folks warmed over. I can see 'em all in that girl's face, Handsome +Judith, to begin with. And that queer woman, the Deacon's mother,--there +'s where she gets that hystericky look. Yes, and the black-eyed woman +with the Indian blood in her,--look out for that,--look out for that. +And--and--my son, do you remember Major Gideon Withers?" [Ob. 1780.] + +"Why no, father, I can't say that I remember the Major; but I know the +picture very well. Does she remind you of him?" + +He paused again, until the thoughts came slowly straggling, up to the +point where the question left him. He shook his head solemnly, and +turned his dim eyes on his son's face. + +Four generations--four generations; man and wife,--yes, five generations, +for old Selah Withers took me in his arms when I was a child, and called +me 'little gal,' for I was in girl's clothes,--five generations before +this Hazard child I 've looked on with these old eyes. And it seems to +me that I can see something of almost every one of 'em in this child's +face, it's the forehead of this one, and it's the eyes of that one, and +it's that other's mouth, and the look that I remember in another, and +when she speaks, why, I've heard that same voice before--yes, yes as long +ago as when I was first married; for I remember Rachel used to think I +praised Handsome Judith's voice more than it deserved,--and her face too, +for that matter. You remember Rachel, my first wife,--don't you, +Fordyce?" + +"No, father, I don't remember her, but I know her portrait." (As he was +the son of the old Doctor's second wife, he could hardly be expected to +remember her predecessor.) + +The old Doctor's sagacity was not in fault about the somewhat threatening +aspect of Myrtle's condition. His directions were followed implicitly; +for with the exception of the fact of sluggishness rather than loss of +memory, and of that confusion of dates which in slighter degrees is often +felt as early as middle-life, and increases in most persons from year to +year, his mind was still penetrating, and his advice almost as +trustworthy, as in his best days. + +It was very fortunate that the old Doctor ordered Myrtle's hair to be +cut, and Miss Silence took the scissors and trimmed it at once. So, +whenever she got well and was seen about, there would be no mystery about +the loss of her locks,--the Doctor had been afraid of brain fever, and +ordered them to cut her hair. + +Many things are uncertain in this world, and among them the effect of a +large proportion of the remedies prescribed by physicians. Whether it +was by the use of the means ordered by the old Doctor, or by the efforts +of nature, or by both together, at any rate the first danger was averted, +and the immediate risk from brain fever soon passed over. But the +impression upon her mind and body had been too profound to be dissipated +by a few days' rest. The hysteric stage which the wise old man had +apprehended began to manifest itself by its usual signs, if anything can +be called usual in a condition the natural order of which is disorder and +anomaly. + +And now the reader, if such there be, who believes in the absolute +independence and self-determination of the will, and the consequent total +responsibility of every human being for every irregular nervous action +and ill-governed muscular contraction, may as well lay down this +narrative, or he may lose all faith in poor Myrtle Hazard, and all +patience with the writer who tells her story. + +The mental excitement so long sustained, followed by a violent shock to +the system, coming just at the period of rapid development, gave rise to +that morbid condition, accompanied with a series of mental and moral +perversions, which in ignorant ages and communities is attributed to the +influence of evil spirits, but for the better-instructed is the malady +which they call hysteria. Few households have ripened a growth of +womanhood without witnessing some of its manifestations, and its +phenomena are largely traded in by scientific pretenders and religious +fanatics. Into this cloud, with all its risks and all its humiliations, +Myrtle Hazard is about to enter. Will she pass through it unharmed, or +wander from her path, and fall over one of those fearful precipices which +lie before her? + +After the ancient physician had settled the general plan of treatment, +its details and practical application were left to the care of his son. +Dr. Fordyce Hurlbut was a widower, not yet forty years old, a man of a +fine masculine aspect and a vigorous nature. He was a favorite with his +female patients,--perhaps many of them would have said because he was +good-looking and pleasant in his manners, but some thought in virtue of a +special magnetic power to which certain temperaments were impressible, +though there was no explaining it. But he himself never claimed any such +personal gift, and never attempted any of the exploits which some thought +were in his power if he chose to exercise his faculty in that direction. +This girl was, as it were, a child to him, for he had seen her grow up +from infancy, and had often held her on his knee in her early years. The +first thing he did was to get her a nurse, for he saw that neither of the +two women about her exercised a quieting influence upon her nerves. So +he got her old friend, Nurse Byloe, to come and take care of her. + +The old nurse looked calm enough at one or two of his first visits, but +the next morning her face showed that something had been going wrong. +"Well, what has been the trouble, Nurse?" the Doctor said, as soon as he +could get her out of the room. + +"She's been attackted, Doctor, sence you been here, dreadful. It's them +high stirricks, Doctor, 'n' I never see 'em higher, nor more of 'em. +Laughin' as ef she would bust. Cryin' as ef she'd lost all her friends, +'n' was a follerin' their corpse to their graves. And spassums,--sech +spassums! And ketchin' at her throat, 'n' sayin' there was a great ball +a risin' into it from her stommick. One time she had a kind o' lockjaw +like. And one time she stretched herself out 'n' laid jest as stiff as +ef she was dead. And she says now that her head feels as ef a nail had +been driv' into it,--into the left temple, she says, and that's what +makes her look so distressed now." + +The Doctor came once more to her bedside. He saw that her forehead was +contracted, and that she was evidently suffering from severe pain +somewhere. + +"Where is your uneasiness, Myrtle?" he asked. + +She moved her hand very slowly, and pressed it on her left temple. He +laid his hand upon the same spot, kept it there a moment, and then +removed it. She took it gently with her own, and placed it on her temple +again. As he sat watching her, he saw that her features were growing +easier, and in a short time her deep, even breathing showed that she was +asleep. + +"It beats all," the old nurse said. "Why, she's been a complainin' ever +sence daylight, and she hain't slep' not a wink afore, sence twelve +o'clock las' night! It's j es' like them magnetizers,--I never heerd you +was one o' them kind, Dr. Hurlbut." + +"I can't say how it is, Nurse,--I have heard people say my hand was +magnetic, but I never thought of its quieting her so quickly. No sleep +since twelve o'clock last night, you say?" + +"Not a wink, 'n' actin' as ef she was possessed a good deal o' the time. +You read your Bible, Doctor, don't you? You're pious? Do you remember +about that woman in Scriptur' out of whom the Lord cast seven devils? +Well, I should ha' thought there was seventy devils in that gal last +night, from the way she carr'd on. And now she lays there jest as +peaceful as a new-born babe,--that is, accordin' to the sayin' about 'em; +for as to peaceful new-born babes, I never see one that come t' anything, +that did n't screech as ef the haouse was afire 'n' it wanted to call all +the fire-ingines within ten mild." + +The Doctor smiled, but he became thoughtful in a moment. Did he possess +a hitherto unexercised personal power, which put the key of this young +girl's nervous system into his hands? The remarkable tranquillizing +effect of the contact of his hand with her forehead looked like an +immediate physical action. + +It might have been a mere coincidence, however. He would not form an +opinion until his next visit. + +At that next visit it did seem as if some of Nurse Byloe's seventy devils +had possession of the girl. All the strange spasmodic movements, the +chokings, the odd sounds, the wild talk, the laughing and crying, were in +full blast. All the remedies which had been ordered seemed to have been +of no avail. The Doctor could hardly refuse trying his quasi magnetic +influence, and placed the tips of his fingers on her forehead. The +result was the same that had followed the similar proceeding the day +before,--the storm was soon calmed, and after a little time she fell into +a quiet sleep, as in the first instance. + +Here was an awkward affair for the physician, to be sure! He held this +power in his hands, which no remedy and no other person seemed to +possess. How long would he be chained to her; and she to him, and what +would be the consequence of the mysterious relation which must +necessarily spring up between a man like him, in the plenitude of vital +force, of strongly attractive personality, and a young girl organized for +victory over the calmest blood and the steadiest resistance? + +Every day after this made matters worse. There was something almost +partaking of the miraculous in the influence he was acquiring over her. +His "Peace, be still!" was obeyed by the stormy elements of this young +soul, as if it had been a supernatural command. How could he resist the +dictate of humanity which called him to make his visits more frequent, +that her intervals of rest might be more numerous? How could he refuse to +sit at her bedside for a while in the evening, that she might be quieted, +instead of beginning the night sleepless and agitated? + +The Doctor was a man of refined feeling as well as of principle, and he +had besides a sacred memory in the deepest heart of his affections. It +was the common belief in the village that he would never marry again, but +that his first and only love was buried in the grave of the wife of his +youth. It did not easily occur to him to suspect himself of any weakness +with regard to this patient of his, little more than a child in years. +It did not at once suggest itself to him that she, in her strange, +excited condition, might fasten her wandering thoughts upon him, too far +removed by his age, as it seemed, to strike the fancy of a young girl +under almost any conceivable conditions. + +Thus it was that many of those beautiful summer evenings found him +sitting by his patient, the river rippling and singing beneath them, the +moon shining over them, sweet odors from the thickets on the banks of the +stream stealing in on the soft air that came through the open window, and +every time they were thus together, the subtile influence which bound +them to each other bringing them more and more into inexplicable +harmonies and almost spiritual identity. + +But all this did not hinder the development of new and strange conditions +in Myrtle Hazard. Her will was losing its power. "I cannot help +it"--the hysteric motto--was her constant reply. It is not pleasant to +confess the truth, but she was rapidly undergoing a singular change of +her moral nature. She had been a truthful child. If she had kept her +secret about what she had found in the garret, she thought she was +exercising her rights, and she had never been obliged to tell any lies +about it. + +But now she seemed to have lost the healthy instincts for veracity and +honesty. She feigned all sorts of odd symptoms, and showed a wonderful +degree of cunning in giving an appearance of truth to them. It became +next to impossible to tell what was real and what was simulated. At one +time she could not be touched ever so lightly without shrinking and +crying out. At another time she would squint, and again she would be +half paralyzed for a time. She would pretend to fast for days, living on +food she had concealed and took secretly in the night. + +The nurse was getting worn out. Kitty Fagan would have had the priest +come to the house and sprinkle it with holy water. The two women were +beginning to get nervous themselves. The Rev. Mr. Stoker said in +confidence to Miss Silence, that there was reason to fear she might have +been given over for a time to the buffetings of Satan, and that perhaps +his (Mr. Stoker's) personal attentions might be useful in that case. And +so it appeared that the "young doctor" was the only being left with whom +she had any complete relations and absolute sympathy. She had become so +passive in his hands that it seemed as if her only healthy life was, as +it were, transmitted through him, and that she depended on the transfer +of his nervous power, as the plant upon the light for its essential +living processes. + +The two young men who had met in so unexpected a manner on board the ship +Swordfish had been reasonably discreet in relating their adventures. +Myrtle Hazard may or may not have had the plan they attributed to her; +however that was, they had looked rather foolish when they met, and had +not thought it worth while to be very communicative about the matter when +they returned. It had at least given them a chance to become a little +better acquainted with each other, and it was an opportunity which the +elder and more artful of the two meant to turn to advantage. + +Of all Myrtle's few friends only one was in the habit of seeing her often +during this period, namely, Olive Eveleth, a girl so quiet and sensible +that she, if anybody, could be trusted with her. But Myrtle's whole +character seemed to have changed, and Olive soon found that she was in +some mystic way absorbed into another nature. Except when the +physician's will was exerted upon her, she was drifting without any +self-directing power, and then any one of those manifold impulses which +would in some former ages have been counted as separate manifestations on +the part of distinct demoniacal beings might take possession of her. +Olive did little, therefore, but visit Myrtle from time to time to learn +if any change had occurred in her condition. All this she reported to +Cyprian, and all this was got out of him by Mr. William Murray Bradshaw. + +That gentleman was far from being pleased with the look of things as they +were represented. What if the Doctor, who was after all in the prime of +life and younger-looking than some who were born half a dozen years after +him, should get a hold on this young woman,--girl now, if you will, but +in a very few years certain to come within possible, nay, not very +improbable, matrimonial range of him? That would be pleasant, wouldn't +it? It had happened sometimes, as he knew, that these magnetizing tricks +had led to infatuation on the part of the subjects of the wonderful +influence. So he concluded to be ill and consult the younger Dr. +Hurlbut, and incidentally find out how the land lay. + +The next question was, what to be ill with. Some not ungentlemanly +malady, not hereditary, not incurable, not requiring any obvious change +in habits of life. Dyspepsia would answer the purpose well enough: so +Mr. Murray Bradshaw picked up a medical book and read ten minutes or more +for that complaint. At the end of this time he was an accomplished +dyspeptic; for lawyers half learn a thing quicker than the members of any +other profession. + +He presented himself with a somewhat forlorn countenance to Dr. Fordyce +Hurlbut, as suffering from some of the less formidable symptoms of that +affection. He got into a very interesting conversation with him, +especially about some nervous feelings which had accompanied his attack +of indigestion. Thence to nervous complaints in general. Thence to the +case of the young lady at The Poplars whom he was attending. The Doctor +talked with a certain reserve, as became his professional relations with +his patient; but it was plain enough that, if this kind of intercourse +went on much longer, it would be liable to end in some emotional +explosion or other, and there was no saying how it would at last turn +out. + +Murray Bradshaw was afraid to meddle directly. He knew something more +about the history of Myrtle's adventure than any of his neighbors, and, +among other things, that it had given Mr. Byles Gridley a peculiar +interest in her, of which he could take advantage. He therefore artfully +hinted his fears to the old man, and left his hint to work itself out. + +However suspicious Master Gridley was of him and his motives, he thought +it worth while to call up at The Poplars and inquire for himself of the +nurse what was this new relation growing up between the physician and his +young patient. + +She imparted her opinion to him in a private conversation with great +freedom. "Sech doin's! sech doin's! The gal's jest as much bewitched as +ever any gal was sence them that was possessed in Scriptur'. And every +day it 's wus and wus. Ef that Doctor don't stop comin', she won't +breathe without his helpin' her to before long. And, Mr. Gridley, I +don't like to say so,--but I can't help thinkin' he's gettin' a little +bewitched too. I don't believe he means to take no kind of advantage of +her; but, Mr. Gridley, you've seen them millers fly round and round a +candle, and you know how it ginerally comes out. Men is men and gals is +gals. I would n't trust no man, not ef he was much under a hundred year +old,--and as for a gal--!" + +"Mulieri ne mortuae quidem credendum est," said Mr. Gridley. "You +wouldn't trust a woman even if she was dead, hey, Nurse?" + +"Not till she was buried, 'n' the grass growin' a foot high over her," +said Nurse Byloe, "unless I'd know'd her sence she was a baby. I've +know'd this one sence she was two or three year old; but this gal ain't +Myrtle Hazard no longer,--she's bewitched into somethin' different. I'll +tell ye what, Mr. Gridley; you get old Dr. Hurlbut to come and see her +once a day for a week, and get the young doctor to stay away. I'll resk +it. She 'll have some dreadful tantrums at fust, but she'll come to it +in two or three, days." + +Master Byles Gridley groaned in spirit. He had come to this village to +end his days in peace, and here he was just going to make a martyr of +himself for the sake of a young person to whom he was under no +obligation, except that he had saved her from the consequences of her own +foolish act, at the expense of a great overturn of all his domestic +habits. There was no help for it. The nurse was right, and he must +perform the disagreeable duty of letting the Doctor know that he was +getting into a track which might very probably lead to mischief, and that +he must back out as fast as he could. + +At 2 P. M. Gifted Hopkins presented the following note at the Doctor's +door: + +"Mr. Byles Gridley would be much obliged to Dr. Fordyce Hurlbut if he +would call at his study this evening." + +"Odd, is n't it, father, the old man's asking me to come and see him? +Those old stub-twist constitutions never want patching." + +"Old man! old man! Who's that you call old,--not Byles Gridley, hey? +Old! old! Sixty year, more or less! How old was Floyer when he died, +Fordyce? Ninety-odd, was n't it? Had the asthma though, or he'd have +lived to be as old as Dr. Holyoke,--a hundred year and over. That's old. +But men live to be a good deal more than that sometimes. What does Byles +Gridley want of you, did you say?" + +"I'm sure I can't tell, father; I'll go and find out." So he went over +to Mrs. Hopkins's in the evening, and was shown up into the study. + +Master Gridley treated the Doctor to a cup of such tea as bachelors +sometimes keep hid away in mysterious caddies. He presently began asking +certain questions about the grand climacteric, which eventful period of +life he was fast approaching. Then he discoursed of medicine, ancient +and modern, tasking the Doctor's knowledge not a little, and evincing a +good deal of acquaintance with old doctrines and authors. + +He had a few curious old medical books in his library, which he said he +should like to show Dr. Hurlbut. + +"There, now! What do you say to this copy of Joannes de Ketam, Venice, +1522? Look at these woodcuts,--the first anatomical pictures ever +printed, Doctor, unless these others of Jacobus Berengarius are older! +See this scene of the plague-patient, the doctor smelling at his +pouncet-box, the old nurse standing square at the bedside, the young +nurse with the bowl, holding back and turning her head away, and the old +burial-hag behind her, shoving her forward, a very curious book, Doctor, +and has the first phrenological picture in it ever made. Take a look, +too, at my Vesalius,--not the Leyden edition, Doctor, but the one with +the grand old original figures,--so good that they laid them to Titian. +And look here, Doctor, I could n't help getting this great folio Albinus, +1747,--and the nineteenth century can't touch it, Doctor,--can't touch it +for completeness and magnificence, so all the learned professors tell me! +Brave old fellows, Doctor, and put their lives into their books as you +gentlemen don't pretend to do nowadays. And good old fellows, +Doctor,--high-minded, scrupulous, conscientious, punctilious,--remembered +their duties to man and to woman, and felt all the responsibilities of +their confidential relation to families. Did you ever read the oldest of +medical documents,--the Oath of Hippocrates?" + +The Doctor thought he had read it, but did not remember much about it. + +"It 's worth reading, Doctor,--it's worth remembering; and, old as it is, +it is just as good to-day as it was when it was laid down as a rule of +conduct four hundred years before the Sermon on the Mount was delivered. +Let me read it to you, Dr. Hurlbut." + +There was something in Master Gridley's look that made the Doctor feel a +little nervous; he did not know just what was coming. + +Master Gridley took out his great Hippocrates, the edition of Foesius, +and opened to the place. He turned so as to face the Doctor, and read +the famous Oath aloud, Englishing it as he went along. When he came to +these words which follow, he pronounced them very slowly and with special +emphasis. + +"My life shall be pure and holy." + +"Into whatever house I enter, I will go for the good of the patient: + +"I will abstain from inflicting any voluntary injury, and from leading +away any, whether man or woman, bond or free." + +The Doctor changed color as he listened, and the moisture broke out on +his forehead. + +Master Gridley saw it, and followed up his advantage. "Dr. Fordyce +Hurlbut, are you not in danger of violating the sanctities of your +honorable calling, and leading astray a young person committed to your +sacred keeping?" + +While saying these words, Master Gridley looked full upon him, with a +face so charged with grave meaning, so impressed with the gravity of his +warning accents, that the Doctor felt as if he were before some dread +tribunal, and remained silent. He was a member of the Rev. Mr. Stoker's +church, and the words he had just listened to were those of a sinful old +heathen who had never heard a sermon in his life; but they stung him, for +all that, as the parable of the prophet stung the royal transgressor. + +He spoke at length, for the plain honest words had touched the right +spring of consciousness at the right moment; not too early, for he now +saw whither he was tending,--not too late, for he was not yet in the +inner spirals of the passion which whirls men and women to their doom in +ever-narrowing coils, that will not unwind at the command of God or man. + +He spoke as one who is humbled by self-accusation, yet in a manly way, as +became his honorable and truthful character. + +"Master Gridley," he said, "I stand convicted before you. I know too +well what you are thinking of. It is true, I cannot continue my +attendance on Myrtle--on Miss Hazard, for you mean her--without peril to +both of us. She is not herself. God forbid that I should cease to be +myself! I have been thinking of a summer tour, and I will at once set +out upon it, and leave this patient in my father's hands. I think he +will find strength to visit her under the circumstances." + +The Doctor went off the next morning without saying a word to Myrtle +Hazard, and his father made the customary visit in his place. + +That night the spirit tare her, as may well be supposed, and so the +second night. But there was no help for it: her doctor was gone, and the +old physician, with great effort, came instead, sat by her, spoke kindly +to her, left wise directions to her attendants, and above all assured +them that, if they would have a little patience, they would see all this +storm blow over. + +On the third night after his visit, the spirit rent her sore, and came +out of her, or, in the phrase of to-day, she had a fierce paroxysm, after +which the violence of the conflict ceased, and she might be called +convalescent so far as that was concerned. + +But all this series of nervous disturbances left her in a very +impressible and excitable condition. This was just the state to invite +the spiritual manipulations of one of those theological practitioners who +consider that the treatment of all morbid states of mind short of raving +madness belongs to them and not to the doctors. This same condition was +equally favorable for the operations of any professional experimenter who +would use the flame of religious excitement to light the torch of an +earthly passion. So many fingers that begin on the black keys stray to +the white ones before the tune is played out! + +If Myrtle Hazard was in charge of any angelic guardian, the time was at +hand when she would need all celestial influences; for the Rev. Joseph +Bellamy Stoker was about to take a deep interest in her spiritual +welfare.' + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +SKIRMISHING. + +"So the Rev. Joseph Bellamy Stoker has called upon you, Susan Posey, has +he? And wants you to come and talk religion with him in his study, Susan +Posey, does he? Religion is a good thing, my dear, the best thing in the +world, and never better than when we are young, and no young people need +it more than young girls. There are temptations to all, and to them as +often as to any, Susan Posey. And temptations come to them in places +where they don't look for them, and from persons they never thought of as +tempters. So I am very glad to have your thoughts called to the subject +of religion. 'Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth.' + +"But Susan Posey, my dear, I think you hard better not break in upon the +pious meditations of the Rev. Joseph Bellamy Stoker in his private study. +A monk's cell and a minister's library are hardly the places for young +ladies. They distract the attention of these good men from their +devotions and their sermons. If you think you must go, you had better +take Mrs. Hopkins with you. She likes religious conversation, and it +will do her good too, and save a great deal of time for the minister, +conversing with two at once. She is of discreet age, and will tell you +when it is time to come away,--you might stay too long, you know. I've +known young persons stay a good deal too long at these interviews,--a +great deal too long, Susan Posey!" + +Such was the fatherly counsel of Master Byles Gridley. + +Susan was not very quick of apprehension, but she could not help seeing +the justice of Master Gridley's remark, that for a young person to go and +break in on the hours that a minister requires for his studies, without +being accompanied by a mature friend who would remind her when it was +time to go, would be taking an unfair advantage of his kindness in asking +her to call upon him. She promised, therefore, that she would never go +without having Mrs. Hopkins as her companion, and with this assurance her +old friend rested satisfied. + +It is altogether likely that he had some deeper reason for his advice +than those with which he satisfied the simple nature of Susan Posey. Of +that it will be easier to judge after a glance at the conditions and +character of the minister and his household. + +The Rev. Mr. Stoker had, in addition to the personal advantages already +alluded to, some other qualities which might prove attractive to many +women. He had, in particular, that art of sliding into easy intimacy +with them which implies some knowledge of the female nature, and, above +all, confidence in one's powers. There was little doubt, the gossips +maintained, that many of the younger women of his parish would have been +willing, in certain contingencies, to lift for him that other end of his +yoke under which poor Mrs. Stoker was fainting, unequal to the burden. + +That lady must have been some years older than her husband,--how many we +need not inquire too curiously,--but in vitality she had long passed the +prime in which he was still flourishing. She had borne him five +children, and cried her eyes hollow over the graves of three of them. +Household cares had dragged upon her; the routine of village life wearied +her; the parishioners expected too much of her as the minister's wife; +she had wanted more fresh air and more cheerful companionship; and her +thoughts had fed too much on death and sin,--good bitter tonics to +increase the appetite for virtue, but not good as food and drink for the +spirit. + +But there was another grief which lay hidden far beneath these obvious +depressing influences. She felt that she was no longer to her husband +what she had been to him, and felt it with something of +self-reproach,--which was a wrong to herself, for she had been a true and +tender wife. Deeper than all the rest was still another feeling, which +had hardly risen into the region of inwardly articulated thought, but lay +unshaped beneath all the syllabled trains of sleeping or waking +consciousness. + +The minister was often consulted by his parishioners upon spiritual +matters, and was in the habit of receiving in his study visitors who came +with such intent. Sometimes it was old weak-eyed Deacon Rumrill, in +great iron-bowed spectacles, with hanging nether lip and tremulous voice, +who had got his brain onto a muddle about the beast with two horns, or +the woman that fled into the wilderness, or other points not settled to +his mind in Scott's Commentary. The minister was always very busy at +such times, and made short work of his deacon's doubts. Or it might be +that an ancient woman, a mother or a grandmother in Israel, came with her +questions and her perplexities to her pastor; and it was pretty certain +that just at that moment he was very deep in his next sermon, or had a +pressing visit to make. + +But it would also happen occasionally that one of the tenderer ewe-lambs +of the flock needed comfort from the presence of the shepherd. Poor Mrs. +Stoker noticed, or thought she noticed, that the good man had more +leisure for the youthful and blooming sister than for the more discreet +and venerable matron or spinster. The sitting was apt to be longer; and +the worthy pastor would often linger awhile about the door, to speed the +parting guest, perhaps, but a little too much after the fashion of young +people who are not displeased with each other, and who often find it as +hard to cross a threshold single as a witch finds it to get over a +running stream. More than once, the pallid, faded wife had made an +errand to the study, and, after a keen look at the bright young cheeks, +flushed with the excitement of intimate spiritual communion, had gone +back to her chamber with her hand pressed against her heart, and the +bitterness of death in her soul. + +The end of all these bodily and mental trials was, that the minister's +wife had fallen into a state of habitual invalidism, such as only women, +who feel all the nerves which in men are as insensible as +telegraph-wires, can experience. + +The doctor did not know what to make of her case,--whether she would live +or die,--whether she would languish for years, or, all at once, roused by +some strong impression, or in obedience to some unexplained movement of +the vital forces, take up her bed and walk. For her bed had become her +home, where she lived as if it belonged to her organism. There she lay, +a not unpleasing invalid to contemplate, always looking resigned, +patient, serene, except when the one deeper grief was stirred, always +arrayed with simple neatness, and surrounded with little tokens that +showed the constant presence with her of tasteful and thoughtful +affection. She did not know, nobody could know, how steadily, how +silently all this artificial life was draining the veins and blanching +the cheek of her daughter Bathsheba, one of the everyday, air-breathing +angels without nimbus or aureole who belong to every story which lets us +into a few households, as much as the stars and the flowers belong to +everybody's verses. + +Bathsheba's devotion to her mother brought its own reward, but it was not +in the shape of outward commendation. Some of the more censorious +members of her father's congregation were severe in their remarks upon +her absorption in the supreme object of her care. It seems that this had +prevented her from attending to other duties which they considered more +imperative. They did n't see why she shouldn't keep a Sabbath-school as +well as the rest, and as to her not comin' to meetin' three times on +Sabbath day like other folks, they couldn't account for it, except +because she calculated that she could get along without the means of +grace, bein' a minister's daughter. Some went so far as to doubt if she +had ever experienced religion, for all she was a professor. There was a +good many indulged a false hope. To this, others objected her life of +utter self-denial and entire surrender to her duties towards her mother +as some evidence of Christian character. But old Deacon Rumrill put down +that heresy by showing conclusively from Scott's Commentary on Romans xi. +1-6, that this was altogether against her chance of being called, and +that the better her disposition to perform good works, the more unlikely +she was to be the subject of saving grace. Some of these severe critics +were good people enough themselves, but they loved active work and +stirring companionship, and would have found their real cross if they had +been called to sit at an invalid's bedside. + +As for the Rev. Mr. Stoker, his duties did not allow him to give so much +time to his suffering wife as his feelings would undoubtedly have +prompted. He therefore relinquished the care of her (with great +reluctance we may naturally suppose) to Bathsheba, who had inherited not +only her mother's youthful smile, but that self-forgetfulness which, born +with some of God's creatures, is, if not "grace," at least a +manifestation of native depravity which might well be mistaken for it. + +The intimacy of mother and daughter was complete, except on a single +point. There was one subject on which no word ever passed between them. +The excuse of duties to others was by a tacit understanding a mantle to +cover all short-comings in the way of attention from the husband and +father, and no word ever passed between them implying a suspicion of the +loyalty of his affections. Bathsheba came at last so to fill with her +tenderness the space left empty in the neglected heart, that her mother +only spoke her habitual feeling when she said, "I should think you were +in love with me, my darling, if you were not my daughter." + +This was a dangerous state of things for the minister. Strange +suggestions and unsafe speculations began to mingle with his dreams and +reveries. The thought once admitted that another's life is becoming +superfluous and a burden, feeds like a ravenous vulture on the soul. Woe +to the man or woman whose days are passed in watching the hour-glass +through which the sands run too slowly for longings that are like a +skulking procession of bloodless murders! Without affirming such horrors +of the Rev. Mr. Stoker, it would not be libellous to say that his fancy +was tampering with future possibilities, as it constantly happens with +those who are getting themselves into training for some act of folly, or +some crime, it may be, which will in its own time evolve itself as an +idea in the consciousness, and by and by ripen into fact. + +It must not be taken for granted that he was actually on the road to some +fearful deed, or that he was an utterly lost soul. He was ready to yield +to temptation if it came in his way; he would even court it, but he did +not shape out any plan very definitely in his mind, as a more desperate +sinner would have done. He liked the pleasurable excitement of emotional +relations with his pretty lambs, and enjoyed it under the name of +religious communion. There is a border land where one can stand on the +territory of legitimate instincts and affections, and yet be so near, the +pleasant garden of the Adversary, that his dangerous fruits and flowers +are within easy reach. Once tasted, the next step is like to be the +scaling of the wall. The Rev. Mr. Stoker was very fond of this border +land. His imagination was wandering over it too often when his pen was +travelling almost of itself along the weary parallels of the page before +him. All at once a blinding flash would come over him the lines of his +sermon would run together, the fresh manuscript would shrivel like a dead +leaf, and the rows of hard-hearted theology on the shelves before him, +and the broken-backed Concordance, and the Holy Book itself, would fade +away as he gave himself up to the enchantment of his delirious dream. + +The reader will probably consider it a discreet arrangement that pretty +Susan Posey should seek her pastor in grave company. Mrs. Hopkins +willingly consented to the arrangement which had been proposed, and +agreed to go with the young lady on her visit to the Rev. Mr. Stoker's +study. They were both arrayed in their field-day splendors on this +occasion. Susan was lovely in her light curls and blue ribbons, and the +becoming dress which could not help betraying the modestly emphasized +crescendos and gently graded diminuendos of her figure. She was as round +as if she had been turned in a lathe, and as delicately finished as if +she had been modelled for a Flora. She had naturally an airy toss of the +head and a springy movement of the joints, such as some girls study in +the glass (and make dreadful work of it), so that she danced all over +without knowing it, like a little lively bobolink on a bulrush. In +short, she looked fit to spoil a homily for Saint Anthony himself. + +Mrs. Hopkins was not less perfect in her somewhat different style. She +might be called impressive and imposing in her grand-costume, which she +wore for this visit. It was a black silk dress, with a crape shawl, a +firmly defensive bonnet, and an alpaca umbrella with a stern-looking and +decided knob presiding as its handle. The dried-leaf rustle of her silk +dress was suggestive of the ripe autumn of life, bringing with it those +golden fruits of wisdom and experience which the grave teachers of +mankind so justly prefer to the idle blossoms of adolescence. + +It is needless to say that the visit was conducted with the most perfect +propriety in all respects. Mrs. Hopkins was disposed to take upon +herself a large share of the conversation. The minister, on the other +hand, would have devoted himself more particularly to Miss Susan, but, +with a very natural make-believe obtuseness, the good woman drew his fire +so constantly that few of his remarks, and hardly any of his insinuating +looks, reached the tender object at which they were aimed. It is +probable that his features or tones betrayed some impatience at having +thus been foiled of his purpose, for Mrs. Hopkins thought he looked all +the time as if he wanted to get rid of her. The three parted, therefore, +not in the best humor all round. Mrs. Hopkins declared she'd see the +minister in Jericho before she'd fix herself up as if she was goin' to a +weddin' to go and see him again. Why, he did n't make any more of her +than if she'd been a tabby-cat. She believed some of these ministers +thought women's souls dried up like peas in a pod by the time they was +forty year old; anyhow, they did n't seem to care any great about 'em, +except while they was green and tender. It was all Miss Se-usan, Miss +Se-usan, Miss Se-usan, my dear! but as for her, she might jest as well +have gone with her apron on, for any notice he took of her. She did n't +care, she was n't goin' to be left out when there was talkin' goin' on, +anyhow. + +Susan Posey, on her part, said she did n't like him a bit. He looked so +sweet at her, and held his head on one side,--law! just as if he had been +a young beau! And,--don't tell,--but he whispered that he wished the +next time I came I wouldn't bring that Hopkins woman! + +It would not be fair to repeat what the minister said to himself; but we +may own as much as this, that, if worthy Mrs. Hopkins had heard it, she +would have treated him to a string of adjectives which would have greatly +enlarged his conceptions of the female vocabulary. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +BATTLE. + +In tracing the history of a human soul through its commonplace nervous +perturbations, still more through its spiritual humiliations, there is +danger that we shall feel a certain contempt for the subject of such +weakness. It is easy to laugh at the erring impulses of a young girl; +but you who remember when_______ _________, only fifteen years old, +untouched by passion, unsullied in name, was found in the shallow brook +where she had sternly and surely sought her death,--(too true! too +true!--ejus animae Jesu miserere!--but a generation has passed since +then,)--will not smile so scornfully. + +Myrtle Hazard no longer required the physician's visits, but her mind was +very far from being poised in the just balance of its faculties. She was +of a good natural constitution and a fine temperament; but she had been +overwrought by all that she had passed through, and, though happening to +have been born in another land, she was of American descent. Now, it has +long been noticed that there is something in the influences, climatic or +other, here prevailing, which predisposes to morbid religious excitement. +The graver reader will not object to seeing the exact statement of a +competent witness belonging to a by-gone century, confirmed as it is by +all that we see about us. + +"There is no Experienced Minister of the Gospel who hath not in the Cases +of Tempted Souls often had this Experience, that the ill Cases of their +distempered Bodies are the frequent Occasion and Original of their +Temptations." "The Vitiated Humours in many Persons, yield the Steams +whereinto Satan does insinuate himself, till he has gained a sort of +Possession in them, or at least an Opportunity to shoot into the Mind as +many Fiery Darts as may cause a sad Life unto them; yea, 't is well if +Self-Murder be not the sad end into which these hurried. People are +thus precipitated. New England, a country where Splenetic Maladies are +prevailing and pernicious, perhaps above any other, hath afforded +Numberless Instances, of even pious People, who have contracted these +Melancholy Indispositions which have unhinged them from all Service or +Comfort; yea, not a few Persons have been hurried thereby to lay Violent +Hands upon themselves at the last. These are among the unsearchable +Judgments of God!" + +Such are the words of the Rev. Cotton Mather. + +The minister had hardly recovered from his vexatious defeat in the +skirmish where the Widow Hopkins was his principal opponent, when he +received a note from Miss Silence Withers, which promised another and +more important field of conflict. It contained a request that he would +visit Myrtle Hazard, who seemed to be in a very excitable and impressible +condition, and who might perhaps be easily brought under those influences +which she had resisted from her early years, through inborn perversity of +character. + +When the Rev. Mr. Stoker received this note, he turned very pale,--which +was a bad sign. Then he drew a long breath or two, and presently a flush +tingled up to his cheek, where it remained a fixed burning glow. This +may have been from the deep interest he felt in Myrtle's spiritual +welfare; but he had often been sent for by aged sinners in more immediate +peril, apparently, without any such disturbance of the circulation. + +To know whether a minister, young or still in flower; is in safe or +dangerous paths, there are two psychometers, a comparison between which +will give as infallible a return as the dry and wet bulbs of the +ingenious "Hygrodeik." The first is the black broadcloth forming the +knees of his pantaloons; the second, the patch of carpet before his +mirror. If the first is unworn and the second is frayed and threadbare, +pray for him. If the first is worn and shiny, while the second keeps its +pattern and texture, get him to pray for you. + +The Rev. Mr. Stoker should have gone down on his knees then and there, +and sought fervently for the grace which he was like to need in the +dangerous path just opening before him. He did not do this; but he stood +up before his looking-glass and parted his hair as carefully as if he had +been separating the saints of his congregation from the sinners, to send +the list to the statistical columns of a religious newspaper. He +selected a professional neckcloth, as spotlessly pure as if it had been +washed in innocency, and adjusted it in a tie which was like the white +rose of Sharon. Myrtle Hazard was, he thought, on the whole, the +handsomest girl he had ever seen; Susan Posey was to her as a buttercup +from the meadow is to a tiger-lily. He, knew the nature of the nervous +disturbances through which she had been passing, and that she must be in +a singularly impressible condition. He felt sure that he could establish +intimate spiritual relations with her by drawing out her repressed +sympathies, by feeding the fires of her religious imagination, by +exercising all those lesser arts of fascination which are so familiar to +the Don Giovannis, and not always unknown to the San Giovannis. + +As for the hard doctrines which he used to produce sensations with in the +pulpit, it would have been a great pity to worry so lovely a girl, in +such a nervous state, with them. He remembered a savory text about being +made all things to all men, which would bear application particularly +well to the case of this young woman. He knew how to weaken his +divinity, on occasion, as well as an old housewife to weaken her tea, +lest it should keep people awake. + +The Rev. Mr. Stoker was a man of emotions. He loved to feel his heart +beat; he loved all the forms of non-alcoholic drunkenness, which are so +much better than the vinous, because they taste themselves so keenly, +whereas the other (according to the statement of experts who are familiar +with its curious phenomena) has a certain sense of unreality connected +with it. He delighted in the reflex stimulus of the excitement he +produced in others by working on their feelings. A powerful preacher is +open to the same sense of enjoyment--an awful, tremulous, goose-flesh +sort of state, but still enjoyment--that a great tragedian feels when he +curdles the blood of his audience. + +Mr. Stoker was noted for the vividness of his descriptions of the future +which was in store for the great bulk of his fellow-townsmen and +fellow-worlds-men. He had three sermons on this subject, known to all +the country round as the sweating sermon, the fainting sermon, and the +convulsion-fit sermon, from the various effects said to have been +produced by them when delivered before large audiences. It might be +supposed that his reputation as a terrorist would have interfered with +his attempts to ingratiate himself with his young favorites. But the +tragedian who is fearful as Richard or as Iago finds that no hindrance to +his success in the part of Romeo. Indeed, women rather take to terrible +people; prize-fighters, pirates, highwaymen, rebel generals, Grand Turks, +and Bluebeards generally have a fascination for the sex; your virgin has +a natural instinct to saddle your lion. The fact, therefore, that the +young girl had sat under his tremendous pulpitings, through the sweating +sermon, the fainting sermon, and the convulsion-fit sermon, did not +secure her against the influence of his milder approaches. + +Myrtle was naturally surprised at receiving a visit from him; but she was +in just that unbalanced state in which almost any impression is welcome. +He showed so much interest, first in her health, then in her thoughts and +feelings, always following her lead in the conversation, that before he +left her she felt as if she had made a great discovery; namely, that this +man, so formidable behind the guns of his wooden bastion, was a most +tenderhearted and sympathizing person when he came out of it unarmed. +How delightful he was as he sat talking in the twilight in low and tender +tones, with respectful pauses of listening, in which he looked as if he +too had just made a discovery,--of an angel, to wit, to whom he could not +help unbosoming his tenderest emotions, as to a being from another +sphere! + +It was a new experience to Myrtle. She was all ready for the spiritual +manipulations of an expert. The excitability which had been showing +itself in spasms and strange paroxysms had been transferred to those +nervous centres, whatever they may be, cerebral or ganglionic, which are +concerned in the emotional movements of the religious nature. It was +taking her at an unfair disadvantage, no doubt. In the old communion, +some priest might have wrought upon her while in this condition, and we +might have had at this very moment among us another Saint Theresa or +Jacqueline Pascal. She found but a dangerous substitute in the spiritual +companionship of a saint like the Rev. Joseph Bellamy Stoker. + +People think the confessional is unknown in our Protestant churches. It +is a great mistake. The principal change is, that there is no screen +between the penitent and the father confessor. The minister knew his +rights, and very soon asserted them. He gave aunt Silence to understand +that he could talk more at ease if he and his young disciple were left +alone together. Cynthia Badlam did not like this arrangement. She was +afraid to speak about it; but she glared at them aslant, with the look of +a biting horse when his eyes follow one sideways until they are all white +but one little vicious spark of pupil. + +It was not very long before the Rev. Mr. Stoker had established pretty +intimate relations with the household at The Poplars. He had reason to +think, he assured Miss Silence, that Myrtle was in a state of mind which +promised a complete transformation of her character. He used the phrases +of his sect, of course, in talking with the elderly lady; but the +language which he employed with the young girl was free from those +mechanical expressions which would have been like to offend or disgust +her. + +As to his rougher formulae, he knew better than to apply them to a +creature of her fine texture. If he had been disposed to do so, her +simple questions and answers to his inquiries would have made it +difficult. But it was in her bright and beautiful eyes, in her handsome +features, and her winning voice, that he found his chief obstacle. How +could he look upon her face in its loveliness, and talk to her as if she +must be under the wrath and curse of God for the mere fact of her +existence? It seemed more natural and it certainly was more +entertaining, to question her in such a way as to find out what kind of +theology had grown up in her mind as the result of her training in the +complex scheme of his doctrinal school. And as he knew that the merest +child, so soon as it begins to think at all, works out for itself +something like a theory of human nature, he pretty soon began sounding +Myrtle's thoughts on this matter. + +What was her own idea; he would be pleased to know, about her natural +condition as one born of a sinful race, and her inherited liabilities on +that account? + +Myrtle smiled like a little heathen, as she was, according to the +standard of her earlier teachings. That kind of talk used to worry her +when she was a child, sometimes. Yes, she remembered its coming back to +her in a dream she had, when--when--(She did not finish her sentence.) +Did he think she hated every kind of goodness and loved every kind of +evil? Did he think she was hateful to the Being who made her? + +The minister looked straight into the bright, brave, tender eyes, and +answered, "Nothing in heaven or on earth could help loving you, Myrtle!" + +Pretty well for a beginning! + +Myrtle saw nothing but pious fervor in this florid sentiment. But as she +was honest and clear-sighted, she could not accept a statement which +seemed so plainly in contradiction with his common teachings, without +bringing his flattering assertion to the test of another question. + +Did he suppose, she asked, that any persons could be Christians, who +could not tell the day or the year of their change from children of +darkness to children of light. + +The shrewd clergyman, whose creed could be lax enough on occasion, had +provided himself with authorities of all kinds to meet these awkward +questions in casuistical divinity. He had hunted up recipes for +spiritual neuralgia, spasms, indigestion, psora, hypochondriasis, just as +doctors do for their bodily counterparts. + +To be sure they could. Why, what did the great Richard Baxter say in his +book on Infant Baptism? That at a meeting of many eminent Christians, +some of them very famous ministers, when it was desired that every one +should give an account of the time and manner of his conversion, there +was but one of them all could do it. And as for himself, Mr. Baxter +said, he could not remember the day or the year when he began to be +sincere, as he called it. Why, did n't President Wheelock say to a young +man who consulted him, that some persons might be true Christians without +suspecting it? + +All this was so very different from the uncompromising way in which +religious doctrines used to be presented to the young girl from the +pulpit, that it naturally opened her heart and warmed her affections. +Remember, if she needs excuse, that the defeated instincts of a strong +nature were rushing in upon her, clamorous for their rights, and that she +was not yet mature enough to understand and manage them. The paths of +love and religion are at the fork of a road which every maiden travels. +If some young hand does not open the turnpike gate of the first, she is +pretty sure to try the other, which has no toll-bar. It is also very +commonly noticed that these two paths, after diverging awhile, run into +each other. True love leads many wandering souls into the better way. +Nor is it rare to see those who started in company for the gates of pearl +seated together on the banks that border the avenue to that other portal, +gathering the roses for which it is so famous. + +It was with the most curious interest that the minister listened to the +various heresies into which her reflections had led her. Somehow or +other they did not sound so dangerous coming from her lips as when they +were uttered by the coarser people of the less rigorous denominations, or +preached in the sermons of heretical clergymen. He found it impossible +to think of her in connection with those denunciations of sinners for +which his discourses had been noted. Some of the sharp old church-members +began to complain that his exhortations were losing their pungency. The +truth was, he was preaching for Myrtle Hazard. He was getting bewitched +and driven beside himself by the intoxication of his relations with her. + +All this time she was utterly unconscious of any charm that she was +exercising, or of being herself subject to any personal fascination. She +loved to read the books of ecstatic contemplation which he furnished her. +She loved to sing the languishing hymns which he selected for her. She +loved to listen to his devotional rhapsodies, hardly knowing sometimes +whether she were in the body, or out of the body, while he lifted her +upon the wings of his passion-kindled rhetoric. The time came when she +had learned to listen for his step, when her eyes glistened at meeting +him, when the words he uttered were treasured as from something more than +a common mortal, and the book he had touched was like a saintly relic. +It never suggested itself to her for an instant that this was anything +more than such a friendship as Mercy might have cultivated with +Great-Heart. She gave her confidence simply because she was very young +and innocent. The green tendrils of the growing vine must wind round +something. + +The seasons had been changing their scenery while the events we have told +were occurring, and the loveliest days of autumn were now shining. To +those who know the "Indian summer" of our Northern States, it is needless +to describe the influence it exerts on the senses and the soul. The +stillness of the landscape in that beautiful time is as if the planet +were sleeping, like a top, before it begins to rock with the storms of +autumn. All natures seem to find themselves more truly in its light; +love grows more tender, religion more spiritual, memory sees farther back +into the past, grief revisits its mossy marbles, the poet harvests the +ripe thoughts which he will tie in sheaves of verses by his winter +fireside. + +The minister had got into the way of taking frequent walks with Myrtle, +whose health had seemed to require the open air, and who was fast +regaining her natural look. Under the canopy of the scarlet, orange, and +crimson leaved maples, of the purple and violet clad oaks, of the birches +in their robes of sunshine, and the beeches in their clinging drapery of +sober brown, they walked together while he discoursed of the joys of +heaven, the sweet communion of kindred souls, the ineffable bliss of a +world where love would be immortal and beauty should never know decay. +And while she listened, the strange light of the leaves irradiated the +youthful figure of Myrtle, as when the stained window let in its colors +on Madeline, the rose-bloom and the amethyst and the glory. + +"Yes! we shall be angels together," exclaimed the Rev. Mr. Stoker. "Our +souls were made for immortal union. I know it; I feel it in every throb +of my heart. Even in this world you are as an angel to me, lifting me +into the heaven where I shall meet you again, or it will not be heaven. +Oh, if on earth our communion could have been such as it must be +hereafter! O Myrtle, Myrtle!" + +He stretched out his hands as if to clasp hers between them in the +rapture of his devotion. Was it the light reflected from the glossy +leaves of the poison sumach which overhung the path that made his cheek +look so pale? Was he going to kneel to her? + +Myrtle turned her dark eyes on him with a simple wonder that saw an +excess of saintly ardor in these demonstrations, and drew back from it. + +"I think of heaven always as the place where I shall meet my mother," she +said calmly. + +These words recalled the man to himself for a moment and he was silent. +Presently he seated himself on a stone. His lips were tremulous as he +said, in a low tone, "Sit down by me, Myrtle." + +"No," she answered, with something which chilled him in her voice, "we +will not stay here any longer; it is time to go home." + +"Full time!" muttered Cynthia Badlam, whose watchful eyes had been upon +them, peering through a screen of yellow leaves, that turned her face +pace as if with deadly passion. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +FLANK MOVEMENT. + +Miss Cynthia Badlam was in the habit of occasionally visiting the Widow +Hopkins. Some said but then people will talk, especially in the country, +where they have not much else to do, except in haying-time. She had +always known the widow, long before Mr. Gridley came there to board, or +any other special event happened in her family. No matter what people +said. + +Miss Badlam called to see Mrs. Hopkins, then, and the two had a long talk +together, of which only a portion is on record. Here are such fragments +as have been preserved. + +"What would I do about it? Why, I'd put a stop to such carry'n's on, +mighty quick, if I had to tie the girl to the bedpost, and have a bulldog +that world take the seat out of any pair of black pantaloons that come +within forty rod of her,--that's what I'd do about it! He undertook to +be mighty sweet with our Susan one while, but ever sence he's been +talkin' religion with Myrtle Hazard he's let us alone. Do as I did when +he asked our Susan to come to his study,--stick close to your girl and +you 'll put a stop to all this business. He won't make love to two at +once, unless they 're both pretty young, I 'll warrant. Follow her +round, Miss Cynthy, and keep your eyes on her." + +"I have watched her like a cat, Mrs. Hopkins, but I can't follow her +everywhere,--she won't stand what Susan Posey 'll stand. There's no use +our talking to her,--we 've done with that at our house. You never know +what that Indian blood of hers will make her do. She's too high-strung +for us to bit and bridle. I don't want to see her name in the paper +again, alongside of that" (She did not finish the sentence.) "I'd rather +have her fished dead out of the river, or find her where she found her +uncle Malachi!" + +"You don't think, Miss Cynthy, that the man means to inveigle the girl +with the notion of marryin' her by and by, after poor Mrs. Stoker's dead +and gone?" + +"The Lord in heaven forbid!" exclaimed Miss Cynthia, throwing up her +hands. "A child of fifteen years old, if she is a woman to look at!" + +"It's too bad,--it's too bad to think of, Miss Cynthy; and there's that +poor woman dyin' by inches, and Miss Bathsheby settin' with her day and +night, she has n't got a bit of her father in her, it's all her +mother,--and that man, instead of bein' with her to comfort her as any +man ought to be with his wife, in sickness and in health, that's what he +promised. I 'm sure when my poor husband was sick.... To think of that +man goin' about to talk religion to all the prettiest girls he can find +in the parish, and his wife at home like to leave him so soon,--it's a +shame,--so it is, come now! Miss Cynthy, there's one of the best men and +one of the learnedest men that ever lived that's a real friend of Myrtle +Hazard, and a better friend to her than she knows of,--for ever sence he +brought her home, he feels jest like a father to her,--and that man is +Mr. Gridley, that lives in this house. It's him I 'll speak to about the +minister's carry'in's on. He knows about his talking sweet to our Susan, +and he'll put things to rights! He's a master hand when he does once +take hold of anything, I tell you that! Jest get him to shet up them +books of his, and take hold of anybody's troubles, and you'll see how he +'ll straighten 'em out." + +There was a pattering of little feet on the stairs, and the two small +twins, "Sossy" and "Minthy," in the home dialect, came hand in hand into +the room, Miss Susan leaving them at the threshold, not wishing to +interrupt the two ladies, and being much interested also in listening to +Mr. Gifted Hopkins, who was reading some of his last poems to her, with +great delight to both of them. + +The good woman rose to take them from Susan, and guide their uncertain +steps. "My babies, I call 'em, Miss Cynthy. Ain't they nice children? +Come to go to bed, little dears? Only a few minutes, Miss Cynthy." + +She took them into the bedroom on the same floor, where they slept, and, +leaving the door open, began undressing them. Cynthia turned her +rocking-chair round so as to face the open door. She looked on while the +little creatures were being undressed; she heard the few words they +lisped as their infant prayer, she saw them laid in their beds, and heard +their pretty good-night. + +A lone woman to whom all the sweet cares of maternity have been denied +cannot look upon a sight like this without feeling the void in her own +heart where a mother's affection should have nestled. Cynthia sat +perfectly still, without rocking, and watched kind Mrs. Hopkins at her +quasi parental task. A tear stole down her rigid face as she saw the +rounded limbs of the children bared in their white beauty, and their +little heads laid on the pillow. They were sleeping quietly when Mrs. +Hopkins left the room for a moment on some errand of her own. Cynthia +rose softly from her chair, stole swiftly to the bedside, and printed a +long, burning kiss on each of their foreheads. + +When Mrs. Hopkins came back, she found the maiden lady sitting in her +place just as she left her, but rocking in her chair and sobbing as one +in sudden pangs of grief. + +"It is a great trouble, Miss Cynthy," she said,--"a great trouble to have +such a child as Myrtle to think of and to care for. If she was like our +Susan Posey, now!--but we must do the best we can; and if Mr. Gridley +once sets himself to it, you may depend upon it he 'll make it all come +right. I wouldn't take on about it if I was you. You let me speak to our +Mr. Gridley. We all have our troubles. It is n't everybody that can +ride to heaven in a C-spring shay, as my poor husband used to say; and +life 's a road that 's got a good many thank-you-ma'ams to go bumpin' +over, says he." + +Miss Badlam acquiesced in the philosophical reflections of the late Mr. +Ammi Hopkins, and left it to his widow to carry out her own suggestion in +reference to consulting Master Gridley. The good woman took the first +opportunity she had to introduce the matter, a little diffusely, as is +often the way of widows who keep boarders. + +"There's something going on I don't like, Mr. Gridley. They tell me that +Minister Stoker is following round after Myrtle Hazard, talking religion +at her jest about the same way he'd have liked to with our Susan, I +calculate. If he wants to talk religion to me or Silence Withers,--well, +no, I don't feel sure about Silence,--she ain't as young as she used to +be, but then ag'in she ain't so fur gone as some, and she's got +money,--but if he wants to talk religion with me, he may come and +welcome. But as for Myrtle Hazard, she's been sick, and it's left her a +little flighty by what they say, and to have a minister round her all the +time ravin' about the next world as if he had a latch-key to the front +door of it, is no way to make her come to herself again. I 've seen more +than one young girl sent off to the asylum by that sort of work, when, if +I'd only had 'em, I'd have made 'em sweep the stairs, and mix the +puddin's, and tend the babies, and milk the cow, and keep 'em too busy +all day to be thinkin' about themselves, and have 'em dress up nice +evenin's and see some young folks and have a good time, and go to meetin' +Sundays, and then have done with the minister, unless it was old Father +Pemberton. He knows forty times as much about heaven as that Stoker man +does, or ever 's like to,--why don't they run after him, I should like to +know? Ministers are men, come now; and I don't want to say anything +against women, Mr. Gridley, but women are women, that's the fact of it, +and half of 'em are hystericky when they're young; and I've heard old Dr. +Hurlbut say many a time that he had to lay in an extra stock of valerian +and assafaetida whenever there was a young minister round,--for there's +plenty of religious ravin', says he, that's nothin' but hysterics." + +[Mr. Fronde thinks that was the trouble with Bloody Queen Mary, but the +old physician did not get the idea from him.] + +"Well, and what do you propose to do about the Rev. Joseph Bellamy Stoker +and his young proselyte, Miss Myrtle Hazard?" said Mr. Gridley, when Mrs. +Hopkins at last gave him a chance to speak. + +"Mr. Gridley,"--Mrs. Hopkins looked full upon him as she spoke,--"people +used to say that you was a good man and a great man and one of the +learnedest men alive, but that you didn't know much nor care for much +except books. I know you used to live pretty much to yourself when you +first came to board in this house. But you've been very good to my son; +...and if Gifted lives till you ...till you are in ...your grave, ...he +will write a poem--I know he will--that will tell your goodness to babes +unborn." + +[Here Master Gridley groaned, and repeated to himself silently, + + "Scindentur vestes gemmae frangentur et aurum, + Carmina quam tribuent fama perennis erit." + +All this inwardly, and without interrupting the worthy woman's talk.] + +"And if ever Gifted makes a book,--don't say anything about it, Mr. +Gridley, for goodness' sake, for he wouldn't have anybody know it, only I +can't help thinking that some time or other he will print a book,--and if +he does, I know whose name he'll put at the head of it,--'Dedicated to B. +G., with the gratitude and respect--' There, now, I had n't any business +to say a word about it, and it's only jest in case he does, you know. +I'm sure you deserve it all. You've helped him with the best of advice. +And you've been kind to me when I was in trouble. And you've been like a +grandfather" [Master Gridley winced,--why could n't the woman have said +father?--that grand struck his ear like a spade going into the gravel] +"to those babes, poor little souls! left on my door-step like a couple of +breakfast rolls,--only you know it's the baker left then. I believe in +you, Mr. Gridley, as I believe in my Maker and in Father Pemberton,--but, +poor man, he's old, and you won't be old these twenty years yet." + +[Master Gridley shook his head as if to say that was n't so, but felt +comforted and refreshed.] + +"You've got to help Myrtle Hazard again. You brought her home when she +come so nigh drowning. You got the old doctor to go and see her when she +come so nigh being bewitched with the magnetism and nonsense, whatever +they call it, and the young doctor was so nigh bein' crazy, too. I know, +for Nurse Byloe told me all about it. And now Myrtle's gettin' run away +with by that pesky Minister Stoker. Cynthy Badlam was here yesterday +crying and sobbing as if her heart would break about it. For my part, I +did n't think Cynthy cared so much for the girl as all that, but I saw +her takin' on dreadfully with my own eyes. That man's like a hen-hawk +among the chickens, first he picks up one, and then he picks up another. +I should like to know if nobody but young folks has souls to be saved, +and specially young women!" + +"Tell me all you know about Myrtle Hazard and Joseph Bellamy Stoker," +said Master Gridley. + +Thereupon that good lady related all that Miss Badlam had imparted to +her, of which the reader knows the worst, being the interview of which +the keen spinster had been a witness, having followed them for the +express purpose of knowing, in her own phrase, what the minister was up +to. + +It is not to be supposed that Myrtle had forgotten the discreet kindness +of Master Gridley in bringing her back and making the best of her +adventure. He, on his part, had acquired a kind of right to consider +himself her adviser, and had begun to take a pleasure in the thought that +he, the worn-out and useless old pedant, as he had been in the way of +considering himself, might perhaps do something even more important than +his previous achievement to save this young girl from the dangers that +surrounded her. He loved his classics and his old books; he took an +interest, too, in the newspapers and periodicals that brought the +fermenting thought and the electric life of the great world into his +lonely study; but these things just about him were getting strong hold on +him, and most of all the fortunes of this beautiful young woman. How +strange! For a whole generation he had lived in no nearer relation to +his fellow-creatures than that of a half-fossilized teacher; and all at +once he found himself face to face with the very most intense form of +life, the counsellor of threatened innocence, the champion of imperilled +loveliness. What business was it of his? growled the lower nature, of +which he had said in "Thoughts on the Universe,"--"Every man leads or is +led by something that goes on four legs." + +Then he remembered the grand line of the African freedman, that makes all +human interests everybody's business, and had a sudden sense of +dilatation and evolution, as it were, in all his dimensions, as if he +were a head taller, and a foot bigger round the chest, and took in an +extra gallon of air at every breath, Then--you who have written a book +that holds your heart-leaves between its pages will understand the +movement--he took down "Thoughts on the Universe" for a refreshing +draught from his own wellspring. He opened as chance ordered it, and his +eyes fell on the following passage: + +"The true American formula was well phrased by the late Samuel Patch, the +Western Empedocles, 'Some things can be done as well as others.' A homely +utterance, but it has virtue to overthrow all dynasties and hierarchies. +These were all built up on the Old-World dogma that some things can NOT +be done as well as others." + +"There, now!" he said, talking to himself in his usual way, "is n't that +good? It always seems to me that I find something to the point when I +open that book. 'Some things can be done as well as others,' can they? +Suppose I should try what I can do by visiting Miss Myrtle Hazard? I +think I may say I am old and incombustible enough to be trusted. She +does not seem to be a safe neighbor to very inflammable bodies?" + +Myrtle was sitting in the room long known as the Study, or the Library, +when Master Byles Gridley called at The Poplars to see her. Miss Cynthia, +who received him, led him to this apartment and left him alone with +Myrtle. She welcomed him very cordially, but colored as she did so,--his +visit was a surprise. She was at work on a piece of embroidery. Her +first instinctive movement was to thrust it out of sight with the thought +of concealment; but she checked this, and before the blush of detection +had reached her cheek, the blush of ingenuous shame for her weakness had +caught and passed it, and was in full possession. She sat with her +worsted pattern held bravely in sight, and her cheek as bright as its +liveliest crimson. + +"Miss Cynthia has let me in upon you," he said, "or I should not have +ventured to disturb you in this way. A work of art, is it, Miss Myrtle +Hazard?" + +"Only a pair of slippers, Mr. Gridley,--for my pastor." + +"Oh! oh! That is well. A good old man. I have a great regard for the +Rev. Eliphalet Pemberton. I wish all ministers were as good and simple +and pure-hearted as the Rev. Eliphalet Pemberton. And I wish all the +young people thought as much about their elders as you do, Miss Myrtle +Hazard. We that are old love little acts of kindness. You gave me more +pleasure than you knew of, my dear, when you worked that handsome cushion +for me. The old minister will be greatly pleased,--poor old man!" + +"But, Mr. Gridley, I must not let you think these are for Father +Pemberton. They are for--Mr. Stoker." + +"The Rev. Joseph Bellamy Stoker! He is not an old man, the Rev. Joseph +Bellamy Stoker. He may perhaps be a widower before a great while.--Does +he know that you are working those slippers for him?" + +"Dear me! no, Mr. Gridley. I meant them for a surprise to him. He has +been so kind to me, and understands me so much better than I thought +anybody did. He is so different from what I thought; he makes religion +so perfectly simple, it seems as if everybody would agree with him, if +they could only hear him talk." + +"Greatly interested in the souls of his people, is n't he?" + +"Too much, almost, I am afraid. He says he has been too hard in his +sermons sometimes, but it was for fear he should not impress his hearers +enough." + +"Don't you think he worries himself about the souls of young women rather +more than for those of old ones, Myrtle?" + +There was something in the tone of this question that helped its slightly +sarcastic expression. Myrtle's jealousy for her minister's sincerity was +roused. + +"How can you ask that, Mr. Gridley? I am sure I wish you or anybody +could have heard him talk as I have. There is no age in souls, he says; +and I am sure that it would do anybody good to hear him, old or young." + +"No age in souls,--no age in souls. Souls of forty as young as souls of +fifteen; that 's it." Master Gridley did not say this loud. But he did +speak as follows: "I am glad to hear what you say of the Rev. Joseph +Bellamy Stoker's love of being useful to people of all ages. You have had +comfort in his companionship, and there are others who might be very glad +to profit by it. I know a very excellent person who has had trials, and +is greatly interested in religious conversation. Do you think he would +be willing to let this friend of mine share in the privileges of +spiritual intercourse which you enjoy?" + +There was but one answer possible. Of course he would. + +"I hope it is so, my dear young lady. But listen to me one moment. I +love you, my dear child, do you know, as if I were your +own--grandfather." (There was moral heroism in that word.) "I love you +as if you were of my own blood; and so long as you trust me, and suffer +me, I mean to keep watch against all dangers that threaten you in mind, +body, or estate. You may wonder at me, you may sometimes doubt me; but +until you say you distrust me, when any trouble comes near you, you will +find me there. Now, my dear child, you ought to know that the Rev. +Joseph Bellamy Stoker has the reputation of being too fond of prosecuting +religious inquiries with young and handsome women." + +Myrtle's eyes fell,--a new suspicion seemed to have suggested itself. + +"He wanted to get up a spiritual intimacy with our Susan Posey,--a very +pretty girl, as you know." + +Myrtle tossed her head almost imperceptibly, and bit her lip. + +"I suppose there are a dozen young people that have been talked about +with him. He preaches cruel sermons in his pulpit, cruel as death, and +cold-blooded enough to freeze any mother's blood if nature did not tell +her he lied, and then smooths it all over with the first good-looking +young woman he can get to listen to him." + +Myrtle had dropped the slipper she was working on. + +"Tell me, my dear, would you be willing to give up meeting this man +alone, and gratify my friend, and avoid all occasion of reproach?" + +"Of course I would," said Myrtle, her eyes flashing, for her doubts, her +shame, her pride, were all excited. "Who is your friend, Mr. Gridley?" + +"An excellent woman,--Mrs. Hopkins. You know her, Gifted Hopkins's +mother, with whom I am residing. Shall the minister be given to +understand that you will see him hereafter in her company?" + +Myrtle came pretty near a turn of her old nervous perturbations. "As you +say," she answered. "Is there nobody that I can trust, or is everybody +hunting me like a bird?" She hid her face in her hands. + +"You can trust me, my dear," said Byles Gridley. "Take your needle, my +child, and work at your pattern,--it will come out a rose by and by. +Life is like that, Myrtle, one stitch at a time, taken patiently, and the +pattern will come out all right like the embroidery. You can trust me. +Good-by, my dear." + +"Let her finish the slippers," the old man said to himself as he trudged +home, "and make 'em big enough for Father Pemberton. He shall have his +feet in 'em yet, or my name is n't Byles Gridley!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +ARRIVAL OF REINFORCEMENTS. + +Myrtle Hazard waited until the steps of Master Byles Gridley had ceased +to be heard, as he walked in his emphatic way through the long entry of +the old mansion. Then she went to her little chamber and sat down in a +sort of revery. She could not doubt his sincerity, and there was +something in her own consciousness which responded to the suspicions he +had expressed with regard to the questionable impulses of the Rev. Joseph +Bellamy Stoker. + +It is not in the words that others say to us, but in those other words +which these make us say to ourselves, that we find our gravest lessons +and our sharpest rebukes. The hint another gives us finds whole trains +of thought which have been getting themselves ready to be shaped in +inwardly articulated words, and only awaited the touch of a burning +syllable, as the mottoes of a pyrotechnist only wait for a spark to +become letters of fire. + +The artist who takes your photograph must carry you with him into his +"developing" room, and he will give you a more exact illustration of the +truth just mentioned. There is nothing to be seen on the glass just +taken from the camera. But there is a potential, though invisible, +picture hid in the creamy film which covers it. Watch him as he pours a +wash over it, and you will see that miracle wrought which is at once a +surprise and a charm,--the sudden appearance of your own features where a +moment before was a blank without a vestige of intelligence or beauty. + +In some such way the grave warnings of Master Byles Gridley had called up +a fully shaped, but hitherto unworded, train of thought in the +consciousness of Myrtle Hazard. It was not merely their significance, it +was mainly because they were spoken at the fitting time. If they had +been uttered a few weeks earlier, when Myrtle was taking the first stitch +on the embroidered slippers, they would have been as useless as the +artist's developing solution on a plate which had never been exposed in +the camera. But she had been of late in training for her lesson in ways +that neither she nor anybody else dreamed of. The reader who has +shrugged his (or her) shoulders over the last illustration will perhaps +hear this one which follows more cheerfully. The physician in the +Arabian Nights made his patient play at ball with a bat, the hollow +handle of which contained drugs of marvellous efficacy. Whether it was +the drugs that made the sick man get well, or the exercise, is not of so +much consequence as the fact that he did at any rate get well. + +These walks which Myrtle had taken with her reverend counsellor had given +her a new taste for the open air, which was what she needed just now more +than confessions of faith or spiritual paroxysms. And so it happened +that, while he had been stimulating all those imaginative and emotional +elements of her nature which responded to the keys he loved to play upon, +the restoring influences of the sweet autumnal air, the mellow sunshine, +the soothing aspects of the woods and fields and sky, had been quietly +doing their work. The color was fast returning to her cheek, and the +discords of her feelings and her thoughts gradually resolving themselves +into the harmonious and cheerful rhythms of bodily and mental health. It +needed but the timely word from the fitting lips to change the whole +programme of her daily mode of being. The word had been spoken. She saw +its truth; but how hard it is to tear away a cherished illusion, to cast +out an unworthy intimate! How hard for any!--but for a girl so young, +and who had as yet found so little to love and trust, how cruelly hard! + +She sat, still and stony, like an Egyptian statue. Her eyes were fixed +on a vacant chair opposite the one on which she was sitting. It was a +very singular and fantastic old chair, said to have been brought over by +the first emigrant of her race. The legs and arms were curiously turned +in spirals, the suggestions of which were half pleasing and half +repulsive. Instead of the claw-feet common in furniture of a later date, +each of its legs rested on a misshapen reptile, which it seemed to +flatten by its weight, as if it were squeezing the breath out of the ugly +creature. Over this chair hung the portrait of her beautiful ancestress, +her neck and arms, the specialty of her beauty, bare, except for a +bracelet on the left wrist, and her shapely figure set off by the ample +folds of a rich crimson brocade. Over Myrtle's bed hung that other +portrait, which was to her almost as the pictures of the Mater Dolorosa +to trustful souls of the Roman faith. She had longed for these pictures +while she was in her strange hysteric condition, and they had been hung +up in her chamber. + +The night was far gone, as she knew by the declining of the +constellations which she bad seen shining brightly almost overhead in the +early evening, when she awoke, and found herself still sitting in the +very attitude in which she was sitting hours before. Her lamp had burned +out, and the starlight but dimly illuminated her chamber. She started to +find herself sitting there, chilled and stiffened by long remaining in +one posture; and as her consciousness returned, a great fear seized her, +and she sprang for a match. It broke with the quick movement she made to +kindle it, and she snatched another as if a fiend were after her. It +flashed and went out. Oh the terror, the terror! The darkness seemed +alive with fearful presences. The lurid glare of her own eyeballs +flashed backwards into her brain. She tried one more match; it kindled +as it should, and she lighted another lamp. Her first impulse was to +assure herself that nothing was changed in the familiar objects around +her. She held the lamp up to the picture of Judith Pride. The beauty +looked at her, it seemed as if with a kind of lofty recognition in her +eyes; but there she was, as always. She turned the light upon the pale +face of the martyr-portrait. It looked troubled and faded, as it seemed +to Myrtle, but still it was the same face she remembered from her +childhood. Then she threw the light on the old chair, and, shuddering, +caught up a shawl and flung it over the spiral-wound arms and legs, and +the flattened reptiles on which it stood. + +In those dead hours of the night which had passed over her sitting there, +still and stony, as it should seem, she had had strange visitors. Two +women had been with her, as real as any that breathed the breath of +life,--so it appeared to her,--yet both had long been what is called, in +our poor language, dead. One came in all the glory of her ripened +beauty, bare-necked, bare-armed, full dressed by nature in that splendid +animal equipment which in its day had captivated the eyes of all the +lusty lovers of complete muliebrity. The other,--how delicate, how +translucent, how aerial she seemed! yet real and true to the lineaments +of her whom the young girl looked upon as her hereditary protector. + +The beautiful woman turned, and, with a face full of loathing and scorn, +pointed to one of the reptiles beneath the feet of the chair. And while +Myrtle's eyes followed hers, the flattened and half-crushed creature +seemed to swell and spread like his relative in the old fable, like the +black dog in Faust, until he became of tenfold size, and at last of +colossal proportions. And, fearful to relate, the batrachian features +humanized themselves as the monster grew, and, shaping themselves more +and more into a remembered similitude, Myrtle saw in them a hideous +likeness of--No! no! it was too horrible, was that the face which had +been so close to hers but yesterday? were those the lips, the breath from +which had stirred her growing curls as he leaned over her while they read +together some passionate stanza from a hymn that was as much like a +love-song as it dared to be in godly company? A shadow of disgust--the +natural repugnance of loveliness for deformity-ran all through her, and +she shrieked, as she thought, and threw herself at the feet of that other +figure. She felt herself lifted from the floor, and then a cold thin +hand seemed to take hers. The warm life went out of her, and she was to +herself as a dimly conscious shadow that glided with passive acquiescence +wherever it was led. Presently she found herself in a half-lighted +apartment, where there were books on the shelves around, and a desk with +loose manuscripts lying on it, and a little mirror with a worn bit of +carpet before it. And while she looked, a great serpent writhed in +through the half-open door, and made the circuit of the room, laying one +huge ring all round it, and then, going round again, laid another ring +over the first, and so on until he was wound all round the room like the +spiral of a mighty cable, leaving a hollow in the centre; and then the +serpent seemed to arch his neck in the air, and bring his head close down +to Myrtle's face; and the features were not those of a serpent, but of a +man, and it hissed out the words she had read that very day in a little +note which said, "Come to my study to-morrow, and we will read hymns +together." + +Again she was back in her little chamber, she did not know how, and the +two women were looking into her eyes with strange meaning in their own. +Something in them seemed to plead with her to yield to their influence, +and her choice wavered which of them to follow, for each would have led +her her own way,--whither she knew not. It was the strife of her +"Vision," only in another form,--the contest of two lives her blood +inherited for the mastery of her soul. The might of beauty conquered. +Myrtle resigned herself to the guidance of the lovely phantom, which +seemed so much fuller of the unextinguished fire of life, and so like +herself as she would grow to be when noon should have ripened her into +maturity. + +Doors opened softly before them; they climbed stairs, and threaded +corridors, and penetrated crypts, strange yet familiar to her eyes, which +seemed to her as if they could see, as it were, in darkness. Then came a +confused sense of eager search for something that she knew was hidden, +whether in the cleft of a rock, or under the boards of a floor, or in +some hiding-place among the skeleton rafters, or in a forgotten drawer, +or in a heap of rubbish, she could not tell; but somewhere there was +something which she was to find, and which, once found, was to be her +talisman. She was in the midst of this eager search when she awoke. + +The impression was left so strongly on her mind that with all her fears +she could not resist the desire to make an effort to find what meaning +there was in this frightfully real dream. Her courage came back as her +senses assured her that all around her was natural, as when she left it. +She determined to follow the lead of the strange hint her nightmare had +given her. + +In one of the upper chambers of the old mansion there stood a tall, +upright desk of the ancient pattern, with folding doors above and large +drawers below. "That desk is yours, Myrtle," her uncle Malachi had once +said to her; "and there is a trick or two about it that it will pay you +to study." Many a time Myrtle had puzzled herself about the mystery of +the old desk. All the little drawers, of which there were a considerable +number, she had pulled out, and every crevice, as she thought, she had +carefully examined. She determined to make one more trial. It was the +dead of the night, and this was a fearful old place to be wandering +about; but she was possessed with an urgent feeling which would not let +her wait until daylight. + +She stole like a ghost from her chamber. She glided along the narrow +entries as she had seemed to move in her dream. She opened the folding +doors of the great upright desk. She had always before examined it by +daylight, and though she had so often pulled all the little drawers out, +she had never thoroughly explored the recesses which received them. But +in her new-born passion of search, she held her light so as to illuminate +all these deeper spaces. At once she thought she saw the marks of +pressure with a finger. She pressed her own finger on this place, and, +as it yielded with a slight click, a small mahogany pilaster sprang +forward, revealing its well-kept secret that it was the mask of a tall, +deep, very narrow drawer. There was something heavy in it, and, as Myrtle +turned it over, a golden bracelet fell into her hand. She recognized it +at once as that which had been long ago the ornament of the fair woman +whose portrait hung in her chamber. She clasped it upon her wrist, and +from that moment she felt as if she were the captive of the lovely +phantom who had been with her in her dream. + +"The old man walked last night, God save us!" said Kitty Fagan to Biddy +Finnegan, the day after Myrtle's nightmare and her curious discovery. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +VICTORY. + +It seems probable enough that Myrtle's whole spiritual adventure was an +unconscious dramatization of a few simple facts which her imagination +tangled together into a kind of vital coherence. The philosopher who +goes to the bottom of things will remark that all the elements of her +fantastic melodrama had been furnished her while waking. Master Byles +Gridley's penetrating and stinging caution was the text, and the +grotesque carvings and the portraits furnished the "properties" with +which her own mind had wrought up this scenic show. + +The philosopher who goes to the bottom of things might not find it so +easy to account for the change which came over Myrtle Hazard from the +hour when she clasped the bracelet of Judith Pride upon her wrist. She +felt a sudden loathing of the man whom she had idealized as a saint. A +young girl's caprice? Possibly. A return of the natural instincts of +girlhood with returning health? Perhaps so. An impression produced by +her dream? An effect of an influx from another sphere of being? The +working of Master Byles Gridley's emphatic warning? The magic of her new +talisman? + +We may safely leave these questions for the present. As we have to tell, +not what Myrtle Hazard ought to have done, and why she should have done +it, but what she did do, our task is a simpler one than it would be to +lay bare all the springs of her action. Until this period, she had +hardly thought of herself as a born beauty. The flatteries she had +received from time to time were like the chips and splinters under the +green wood, when the chill women pretended to make a fire in the best +parlor at The Poplars, which had a way of burning themselves out, hardly +warming, much less kindling, the fore-stick and the back-log. + +Myrtle had a tinge of what some call superstition, and she began to look +upon her strange acquisition as a kind of amulet. Its suggestions +betrayed themselves in one of her first movements. Nothing could be +soberer than the cut of the dresses which the propriety of the severe +household had established as the rule of her costume. But the girl was +no sooner out of bed than a passion came over her to see herself in that +less jealous arrangement of drapery which the Beauty of the last century +had insisted on as presenting her most fittingly to the artist. She +rolled up the sleeves of her dress, she turned down its prim collar and +neck, and glanced from her glass to the portrait, from the portrait back +to the glass. Myrtle was not blind nor dull, though young, and in many +things untaught. She did not say in so many words, "I too am a beauty," +but she could mot help seeing that she had many of the attractions of +feature and form which had made the original of the picture before her +famous. The same stately carriage of the head, the same full-rounded +neck, the same more than hinted outlines of figure, the same finely +shaped arms and hands, and something very like the same features startled +her by their identity in the permanent image of the canvas and the +fleeting one of the mirror. + +The world was hers then,--for she had not read romances and love-letters +without finding that beauty governs it in all times and places. Who was +this middle-aged minister that had been hanging round her and talking to +her about heaven, when there was not a single joy of earth that she had +as yet tasted? A man that had been saying all his fine things to Miss +Susan Posey, too, had he, before he had bestowed his attentions on her? +And to a dozen other girls, too, nobody knows who! + +The revulsion was a very sadden one. Such changes of feeling are apt to +be sudden in young people whose nerves have been tampered with, and +Myrtle was not of a temperament or an age to act with much deliberation +where a pique came in to the aid of a resolve. Master Gridley guessed +sagaciously what would be the effect of his revelation, when he told her +of the particular attentions the minister had paid to pretty Susan Posey +and various other young women. + +The Rev. Mr. Stoker had parted his hair wonderfully that morning, and +made himself as captivating as his professional costume allowed. He had +drawn down the shades of his windows so as to let in that subdued light +which is merciful to crow's-feet and similar embellishments, and wheeled +up his sofa so that two could sit at the table and read from the same +book. + +At eleven o'clock he was pacing the room with a certain feverish +impatience, casting a glance now and then at the mirror as he passed it. +At last the bell rang, and he himself went to answer it, his heart +throbbing with expectation of meeting his lovely visitor. + +Myrtle Hazard appeared by an envoy extraordinary, the bearer of sealed +despatches. Mistress Kitty Fagan was the young lady's substitute, and +she delivered into the hand of the astonished clergyman the following +missive: + +TO THE REV. MR. STOKER. + +Reverend Sir,--I shall not come to your study this day. I do not feel +that I have any more need of religious counsel at this time, and I am +told by a friend that there are others who will be glad to hear you talk +on this subject. I hear that Mrs. Hopkins is interested in religious +subjects, and would have been glad to see you in my company. As I cannot +go with her, perhaps Miss Susan Posey will take my place. I thank you +for all the good things you have said to me, and that you have given me +so much of your company. I hope we shall sing hymns together in heaven +some time, if we are good enough, but I want to wait for that awhile, for +I do not feel quite ready. I am not going to see you any more alone, +reverend sir. I think this is best, and I have good advice. I want to +see more of young people of my own age, and I have a friend, Mr. Gridley, +who I think is older than you are, that takes an interest in me; and as +you have many others that you must be interested in, he can take the +place of a father better than you can do. I return to you the hymn-book, +I read one of those you marked, and do not care to read any more. + +Respectfully yours, + +MYRTLE HAZARD. + + +The Rev. Mr. Stoker uttered a cry of rage as he finished this awkwardly +written, but tolerably intelligible letter. What could he do about it? +It would hardly do to stab Myrtle Hazard, and shoot Byles Gridley, and +strangle Mrs. Hopkins, every one of which homicides he felt at the moment +that he could have committed. And here he was in a frantic paroxysm, and +the next day was Sunday, and his morning's discourse was unwritten. His +savage mediaeval theology came to his relief, and he clutched out of a +heap of yellow manuscripts his well-worn "convulsion-fit" sermon. He +preached it the next day as if it did his heart good, but Myrtle Hazard +did not hear it, for she had gone to St. Bartholomew's with Olive +Eveleth. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +SAINT AND SINNER + +It happened a little after this time that the minister's invalid wife +improved--somewhat unexpectedly in health, and, as Bathsheba was +beginning to suffer from imprisonment in her sick-chamber, the physician +advised very strongly that she should vary the monotony of her life by +going out of the house daily for fresh air and cheerful companionship. +She was therefore frequently at the house of Olive Eveleth; and as Myrtle +wanted to see young people, and had her own way now as never before, the +three girls often met at the parsonage. Thus they became more and more +intimate, and grew more and more into each other's affections. + +These girls presented three types of spiritual character which are to be +found in all our towns and villages. Olive had been carefully trained, +and at the proper age confirmed. Bathsheba had been prayed for, and in +due time startled and converted. Myrtle was a simple daughter of Eve, +with many impulses like those of the other two girls, and some that +required more watching. She was not so safe, perhaps, as either of the +other girls, for this world or the next; but she was on some accounts +more interesting, as being a more genuine representative of that +inexperienced and too easily deluded, yet always cherished, mother of our +race, whom we must after all accept as embodying the creative idea of +woman, and who might have been alive and happy now (though at a great +age) but for a single fatal error. + +The Rev. Ambrose Eveleth, Rector of Saint Bartholomew's, Olive's father, +was one of a class numerous in the Anglican Church, a cultivated man, +with pure tastes, with simple habits, a good reader, a neat writer, a +safe thinker, with a snug and well-fenced mental pasturage, which his +sermons kept cropped moderately close without any exhausting demand upon +the soil. Olive had grown insensibly into her religious maturity, as +into her bodily and intellectual developments, which one might suppose +was the natural order of things in a well-regulated Christian--household, +where the children are brought up in the nurture and admonition of the +Lord. + +Bathsheba had been worried over and perplexed and depressed with vague +apprehensions about her condition, conveyed in mysterious phrases and +graveyard expressions of countenance, until about the age of fourteen +years, when she had one of those emotional paroxysms very commonly +considered in some Protestant sects as essential to the formation of +religious character. It began with a shivering sense of enormous guilt, +inherited and practised from her earliest infancy. Just as every breath +she ever drew had been malignantly poisoning the air with carbonic acid, +so her every thought and feeling had been tainting the universe with sin. +This spiritual chill or rigor had in due order been followed by the +fever-flush of hope, and that in its turn had ushered in the last stage, +the free opening of all the spiritual pores in the peaceful relaxation of +self-surrender. + +Good Christians are made by many very different processes. Bathsheba had +taken her religion after the fashion of her sect; but it was genuine, in +spite of the cavils of the formalists, who could not understand that the +spirit which kept her at her mother's bedside was the same as that which +poured the tears of Mary of Magdala on the feet of her Lord, and led her +forth at early dawn with the other Mary to visit his sepulchre. + +Myrtle was a child of nature, and of course, according to the out-worn +formulae which still shame the distorted religion of humanity, hateful to +the Father in Heaven who made her. She had grown up in antagonism with +all that surrounded her. She had been talked to about her corrupt nature +and her sinful heart, until the words had become an offence and an +insult. Bathsheba knew her father's fondness for young company too well +to suppose that his intercourse with Myrtle had gone beyond the +sentimental and poetical stage, and was not displeased when she found +that there was some breach between them. Myrtle herself did not profess +to have passed through the technical stages of the customary spiritual +paroxysm. Still, the gentle daughter of the terrible preacher loved her +and judged her kindly. She was modest enough to think that perhaps the +natural state of some girls might be at least as good as her own after +the spiritual change of which she had been the subject. A manifest +heresy, but not new, nor unamiable, nor inexplicable. + +The excellent Bishop Joseph Hall, a painful preacher and solid divine of +Puritan tendencies, declares that he prefers good-nature before grace in +the election of a wife; because, saith he, "it will be a hard Task, where +the Nature is peevish and froward, for Grace to make an entire Conquest +whilst Life lasteth." An opinion apparently entertained by many modern +ecclesiastics, and one which may be considered very encouraging to those +young ladies of the politer circles who have a fancy for marrying bishops +and other fashionable clergymen. Not of course that "grace" is so rare a +gift among the young ladies of the upper social sphere; but they are in +the habit of using the word with a somewhat different meaning from that +which the good Bishop attached to it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +VILLAGE POET. + +It was impossible for Myrtle to be frequently at Olive's without often +meeting Olive's brother, and her reappearance with the bloom on her cheek +was a signal which her other admirers were not likely to overlook as a +hint to recommence their flattering demonstrations; and so it was that +she found herself all at once the centre of attraction to three young men +with whom we have made some acquaintance, namely, Cyprian Eveleth, Gifted +Hopkins, and Murray Bradshaw. + +When the three girls were together at the house of Olive, it gave Cyprian +a chance to see something of Myrtle in the most natural way. Indeed, they +all became used to meeting him in a brotherly sort of relation; only, as +he was not the brother of two of them, it gave him the inside track, as +the sporting men say, with reference to any rivals for the good-will of +either of these. Of course neither Bathsheba nor Myrtle thought of him +in any other light than as Olive's brother, and would have been surprised +with the manifestation on his part of any other feeling, if it existed. +So he became very nearly as intimate with them as Olive was, and hardly +thought of his intimacy as anything more than friendship, until one day +Myrtle sang some hymns so sweetly that Cyprian dreamed about her that +night; and what young person does not know that the woman or the man once +idealized and glorified in the exalted state of the imagination belonging +to sleep becomes dangerous to the sensibilities in the waking hours that +follow? Yet something drew Cyprian to the gentler and more subdued +nature of Bathsheba, so that he often thought, like a gayer personage +than himself, whose divided affections are famous in song, that he could +have been blessed to share her faithful heart, if Myrtle had not +bewitched him with her unconscious and innocent sorceries. As for poor, +modest Bathsheba, she thought nothing of herself, but was almost as much +fascinated by Myrtle as if she had been one of the sex she was born to +make in love with her. + +The first rival Cyprian was to encounter in his admiration of Myrtle +Hazard was Mr. Gifted Hopkins. This young gentleman had the enormous +advantage of that all-subduing accomplishment, the poetical endowment. +No woman, it is pretty generally understood, can resist the youth or man +who addresses her in verse. The thought that she is the object of a +poet's love is one which fills a woman's ambition more completely than +all that wealth or office or social eminence can offer. Do the young +millionnaires and the members of the General Court get letters from +unknown ladies, every day, asking for their autographs and photographs? +Well, then! + +Mr. Gifted Hopkins, being a poet, felt that it was so, to the very depth +of his soul. Could he not confer that immortality so dear to the human +heart? Not quite yet, perhaps,--though the "Banner and Oracle" gave him +already "an elevated niche in the Temple of Fame," to quote its own +words,--but in that glorious summer of his genius, of which these spring +blossoms were the promise. It was a most formidable battery, then, which +Cyprian's first rival opened upon the fortress of Myrtle's affections. + +His second rival, Mr. William Murray Bradshaw, had made a half-playful +bet with his fair relative, Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, that he would bag a girl +within twelve months of date who should unite three desirable qualities, +specified in the bet, in a higher degree than any one of the five who +were on the matrimonial programme which she had laid out for him,--and +Myrtle was the girl with whom he meant to win the bet. When a young +fellow like him, cool and clever, makes up his mind to bring down his +bird, it is no joke, but a very serious and a tolerably certain piece of +business. Not being made a fool of by any boyish nonsense,--passion and +all that,--he has a great advantage. Many a woman rejects a man because +he is in love with her, and accepts another because he is not. The first +is thinking too much of himself and his emotions,--the other makes a +study of her and her friends, and learns what ropes to pull. But then it +must be remembered that Murray Bradshaw had a poet for his rival, to say +nothing of the brother of a bosom friend. + +The qualities of a young poet are so exceptional, and such interesting +objects of study, that a narrative like this can well afford to linger +awhile in the delineation of this most envied of all the forms of genius. +And by contrasting the powers and limitations of two such young persons +as Gifted Hopkins and Cyprian Eveleth, we may better appreciate the +nature of that divine inspiration which gives to poetry the superiority +it claims over every other form of human expression. + +Gifted Hopkins had shown an ear for rhythm, and for the simpler forms of +music, from his earliest childhood. He began beating with his heels the +accents of the psalm tunes sung at meeting at a very tender age,--a +habit, indeed, of which he had afterwards to correct himself, as, though +it shows a sensibility to rhythmical impulses like that which is +beautifully illustrated when a circle join hands and emphasize by +vigorous downward movements the leading syllables in the tune of Auld +Lang Syne, yet it is apt to be too expressive when a large number of +boots join in the performance. He showed a remarkable talent for playing +on one of the less complex musical instruments, too limited in compass to +satisfy exacting ears, but affording excellent discipline to those who +wish to write in the simpler metrical forms,--the same which summons the +hero from his repose and stirs his blood in battle. + +By the time he was twelve years old he was struck with the pleasing +resemblance of certain vocal sounds which, without being the same, yet +had a curious relation which made them agree marvellously well in +couples; as eyes with skies; as heart with art, also with part and smart; +and so of numerous others, twenty or thirty pairs, perhaps, which number +he considerably increased as he grew older, until he may have had fifty +or more such pairs at his command. + +The union of so extensive a catalogue of words which matched each other, +and of an ear so nice that it could tell if there were nine or eleven +syllables in an heroic line, instead of the legitimate ten, constituted a +rare combination of talents in the opinion of those upon whose judgment +he relied. He was naturally led to try his powers in the expression of +some just thought or natural sentiment in the shape of verse, that +wonderful medium of imparting thought and feeling to his fellow-creatures +which a bountiful Providence had made his rare and inestimable endowment. + +It was at about this period of his life, that is to say, when he was of +the age of thirteen, or we may perhaps say fourteen years, for we do not +wish to overstate his precocity, that he experienced a sensation so +entirely novel, that, to the best of his belief, it was such as no other +young person had ever known, at least in anything like the same degree. +This extraordinary emotion was brought on by the sight of Myrtle Hazard, +with whom he had never before had any near relations, as they had been at +different schools, and Myrtle was too reserved to be very generally known +among the young people of his age. + +Then it was that he broke forth in his virgin effort, "Lines to M----e," +which were published in the village paper, and were claimed by all +possible girls but the right one; namely, by two Mary Annes, one Minnie, +one Mehitable, and one Marthie, as she saw fit to spell the name borrowed +from her who was troubled about many things. + +The success of these lines, which were in that form of verse known to the +hymn-books as "common metre," was such as to convince the youth that, +whatever occupation he might be compelled to follow for a time to obtain +a livelihood or to assist his worthy parent, his true destiny was the +glorious career of a poet. It was a most pleasing circumstance, that his +mother, while she fully recognized the propriety of his being diligent in +the prosaic line of business to which circumstances had called him, was +yet as much convinced as he himself that he was destined to achieve +literary fame. She had read Watts and Select Hymns all through, she +said, and she did n't see but what Gifted could make the verses come out +jest as slick, and the sound of the rhymes jest as pooty, as Izik Watts +or the Selectmen, whoever they was,--she was sure they couldn't be the +selectmen of this town, wherever they belonged. It is pleasant to say +that the young man, though favored by nature with this rarest of talents, +did not forget the humbler duties that Heaven, which dresses few +singing-birds in the golden plumes of fortune, had laid upon him. After +having received a moderate amount of instruction at one of the less +ambitious educational institutions of the town, supplemented, it is true, +by the judicious and gratuitous hints of Master Gridley, the young poet, +in obedience to a feeling which did him the highest credit, relinquished, +at least for the time, the Groves of Academus, and offered his youth at +the shrine of Plutus, that is, left off studying and took to business. +He became what they call a "clerk" in what they call a "store" up in the +huckleberry districts, and kept such accounts as were required by the +business of the establishment. His principal occupation was, however, to +attend to the details of commerce as it was transacted over the counter. +This industry enabled him, to his great praise be it spoken, to assist +his excellent parent, to clothe himself in a becoming manner, so that he +made a really handsome figure on Sundays and was always of presentable +aspect, likewise to purchase a book now and then, and to subscribe for +that leading periodical which furnishes the best models to the youth of +the country in the various modes of composition. + +Though Master Gridley was very kind to the young man, he was rather +disposed to check the exuberance of his poetical aspirations. The truth +was, that the old classical scholar did not care a great deal for modern +English poetry. Give him an Ode of Horace, or a scrap from the Greek +Anthology, and he would recite it with great inflation of spirits; but he +did not think very much of "your Keatses, and your Tennysons, and the +whole Hasheesh crazy lot," as he called the dreamily sensuous idealists +who belong to the same century that brought in ether and chloroform. He +rather shook his head at Gifted Hopkins for indulging so largely in +metrical composition. + +"Better stick to your ciphering, my young friend," he said to him, one +day. "Figures of speech are all very well, in their way; but if you +undertake to deal much in them, you'll figure down your prospects into a +mighty small sum. There's some danger that it will take all the sense +out of you, if you keep writing verses at this rate. You young +scribblers think any kind of nonsense will do for the public, if it only +has a string of rhymes tacked to it. Cut off the bobs of your kite, +Gifted Hopkins, and see if it does n't pitch, and stagger, and come down +head-foremost. Don't write any stuff with rhyming tails to it that won't +make a decent show for itself after you've chopped all the rhyming tails +off. That's my advice, Gifted Hopkins. Is there any book you would like +to have out of my library? Have you ever read Spenser's Faery Queen?" + +He had tried, the young man answered, on the recommendation of Cyprian +Eveleth, but had found it rather hard reading. + +Master Gridley lifted his eyebrows very slightly, remembering that some +had called Spenser the poet's poet. "What a pity," he said to himself, +"that this Gifted Hopkins has n't got the brains of that William Murray +Bradshaw! What's the reason, I wonder, that all the little earthen pots +blow their covers off and froth over in rhymes at such a great rate, +while the big iron pots keep their lids on, and do all their simmering +inside?" + +That is the way these old pedants will talk, after all their youth and +all their poetry, if they ever had any, are gone. The smiles of woman, +in the mean time, encouraged the young poet to smite the lyre. Fame +beckoned him upward from her templed steep. The rhymes which rose before +him unbidden were as the rounds of Jacob's ladder, on which he would +climb to a heaven of-glory. + +Master Gridley threw cold water on the young man's too sanguine +anticipations of success. "All up with the boy, if he's going to take to +rhyming when he ought to be doing up papers of brown sugar and weighing +out pounds of tea. Poor-house,--that 's what it'll end in. Poets, to be +sure! Sausage-makers! Empty skins of old phrases,--stuff 'em with odds +and ends of old thoughts that never were good for anything,--cut 'em up +in lengths and sell'em to fools! + +"And if they ain't big fools enough to buy 'em, give'em away; and if you +can't do that, pay folks to take'em. Bah! what a fine style of genius +common-sense is! There's a passage in the book that would fit half these +addle-headed rhymesters. What is that saying of mine about I squinting +brains?" + +He took down "Thoughts on the Universe," and read:-- + + "Of Squinting Brains. + +"Where there is one man who squints with his eyes, there are a dozen who +squint with their brains. It is an infirmity in one of the eyes, making +the two unequal in power, that makes men squint. Just so it is an +inequality in the two halves of the brain that makes some men idiots and +others rascals. I knows a fellow whose right half is a genius, but his +other hemisphere belongs to a fool; and I had a friend perfectly honest +on one side, but who was sent to jail because the other had an inveterate +tendency in the direction of picking pockets and appropriating aes +alienum." + +All this, talking and reading to himself in his usual fashion. + +The poetical faculty which was so freely developed in Gifted Hopkins had +never manifested itself in Cyprian Eveleth, whose look and voice might, +to a stranger, have seemed more likely to imply an imaginative nature. +Cyprian was dark, slender, sensitive, contemplative, a lover of lonely +walks,--one who listened for the whispers of Nature and watched her +shadows, and was alive to the symbolisms she writes over everything. But +Cyprian had never shown the talent or the inclination for writing in +verse. + +He was on the pleasantest terms with the young poet, and being somewhat +older, and having had the advantage of academic and college culture, +often gave him useful hints as to the cultivation of his powers, such as +genius frequently requires at the hands of humbler intelligences. +Cyprian was incapable of jealousy; and although the name of Gifted +Hopkins was getting to be known beyond the immediate neighborhood, and +his autograph had been requested by more than one young lady living in +another county, he never thought of envying the young poet's spreading +popularity. + +That the poet himself was flattered by these marks of public favor may be +inferred from the growing confidence with which he expressed himself in +his conversations with Cyprian, more especially in one which was held at +the "store" where he officiated as "clerk." + +"I become more and more assured, Cyprian," he said, leaning over the +counter, "that I was born to be a poet. I feel it in my marrow. I must +succeed. I must win the laurel of fame. I must taste the sweets of"-- + +"Molasses," said a bareheaded girl of ten who entered at that moment, +bearing in her hand a cracked pitcher, "ma wants three gills of +molasses." + +Gifted Hopkins dropped his subject and took up a tin measure. He served +the little maid with a benignity quite charming to witness, made an entry +on a slate of .08, and resumed the conversation. + +"Yes, I am sure of it, Cyprian. The very last piece I wrote was copied +in two papers. It was 'Contemplations in Autumn,' and--don't think I am +too vain--one young lady has told me that it reminded her of Pollok. You +never wrote in verse, did you, Cyprian?" + +"I never wrote at all, Gifted, except school and college exercises, and a +letter now and then. Do you find it an easy and pleasant exercise to +make rhymes?" + +Pleasant! Poetry is to me a delight and a passion. I never know what I +am going to write when I sit down. And presently the rhymes begin +pounding in my brain,--it seems as if there were a hundred couples of +them, paired like so many dancers,--and then these rhymes seem to take +possession of me, like a surprise party, and bring in all sorts of +beautiful thoughts, and I write and write, and the verses run measuring +themselves out like"-- + +"Ribbins,--any narrer blue ribbins, Mr. Hopkins? Five eighths of a yard, +if you please, Mr. Hopkins. How's your folks?" Then, in a lower tone, +"Those last verses of yours in the Bannernoracle were sweet pooty." + +Gifted Hopkins meted out the five eighths of blue ribbon by the aid of +certain brass nails on the counter. He gave good measure, not prodigal, +for he was loyal to his employer, but putting a very moderate strain on +the ribbon, and letting the thumb-nail slide with a contempt of +infinitesimals which betokened a large soul in its genial mood. + +The young lady departed, after casting upon him one of those bewitching +glances which the young poet--let us rather say the poet, without making +odious distinctions--is in the confirmed habit of receiving from dear +woman. + +Mr. Gifted Hopkins resumed: "I do not know where this talent, as my +friends call it, of mine, comes from. My father used to carry a chain +for a surveyor sometimes, and there is a ten-foot pole in the house he +used to measure land with. I don't see why that should make me a poet. +My mother was always fond of Dr. Watts's hymns; but so are other young +men's mothers, and yet they don't show poetical genius. But wherever I +got it, it comes as easy to me to write in verse as to write in prose, +almost. Don't you ever feel a longing to send your thoughts forth in +verse, Cyprian?" + +"I wish I had a greater facility of expression very often," Cyprian +answered; "but when I have my best thoughts I do not find that I have +words that seem fitting to clothe them. I have imagined a great many +poems, Gifted, but I never wrote a rhyming verse, or verse of any kind. +Did you ever hear Olive play 'Songs without Words'? If you have ever +heard her, you will know what I mean by unrhymed and unversed poetry." + +"I am sure I don't know what you mean, Cyprian, by poetry without rhyme +or verse, any more than I should if you talked about pictures that were +painted on nothing, or statues that were made out of nothing. How can +you tell that anything is poetry, I should like to know, if there is +neither a regular line with just so many syllables, nor a rhyme? Of +course you can't. I never have any thoughts too beautiful to put in +verse: nothing can be too beautiful for it." + +Cyprian left the conversation at this point. It was getting more +suggestive than interpenetrating, and he thought he might talk the matter +over better with Olive. Just then a little boy came in, and bargained +with Gifted for a Jews-harp, which, having obtained, he placed against +his teeth, and began playing upon it with a pleasure almost equal to that +of the young poet reciting his own verses. + +"A little too much like my friend Gifted Hopkins's poetry," Cyprian said, +as he left the "store." "All in one note, pretty much. Not a great many +tunes, 'Hi Betty Martin,' 'Yankee Doodle,' and one or two more like them. +But many people seem to like them, and I don't doubt it is as exciting to +Gifted to write them as it is to a great genius to express itself in a +poem." + +Cyprian was, perhaps, too exacting. He loved too well the sweet +intricacies of Spenser, the majestic and subtly interwoven harmonies of +Milton. These made him impatient of the simpler strains of Gifted +Hopkins. + +Though he himself never wrote verses, he had some qualities which his +friend the poet may have undervalued in comparison with the talent of +modelling the symmetries of verse and adjusting the correspondences of +rhyme. He had kept in a singular degree all the sensibilities of +childhood, its simplicity, its reverence. It seemed as if nothing of all +that he met in his daily life was common or unclean to him, for there was +no mordant in his nature for what was coarse or vile, and all else he +could not help idealizing into its own conception of itself, so to speak. +He loved the leaf after its kind as well as the flower, and the root as +well as the leaf, and did not exhaust his capacity of affection or +admiration on the blossom or bud upon which his friend the poet lavished +the wealth of his verse. Thus Nature took him into her confidence. She +loves the men of science well, and tells them all her family +secrets,--who is the father of this or that member of the group, who is +brother, sister, cousin, and so on, through all the circle of +relationship. But there are others to whom she tells her dreams; not +what species or genus her lily belongs to, but what vague thought it has +when it dresses in white, or what memory of its birthplace that is which +we call its fragrance. Cyprian was one of these. Yet he was not a +complete nature. He required another and a wholly different one to be +the complement of his own. Olive came as near it as a sister could, +but--we must borrow an old image--moonlight is no more than a cold and +vacant glimmer on the sun-dial, which only answers to the great flaming +orb of day. If Cyprian could but find some true, sweet-tempered, +well-balanced woman, richer in feeling than in those special imaginative +gifts which made the outward world at times unreal to him in the intense +reality of his own inner life, how he could enrich and adorn her +existence,--how she could direct and chasten and elevate the character of +all his thoughts and actions! + +"Bathsheba," said Olive, "it seems to me that Cyprian is getting more and +more fascinated with Myrtle Hazard. He has never got over the fancy he +took to her when he first saw her in her red jacket, and called her the +fire-hang-bird. Wouldn't they suit each other by and by, after Myrtle +has come to herself and grown into a beautiful and noble woman, as I feel +sure she will in due time?" + +"Myrtle is very lovely," Bathsheba answered, "but is n't she a little +too--flighty--for one like your brother? Cyprian isn't more like other +young men than Myrtle is like other young girls. I have thought +sometimes--I wondered whether out-of-the-way people and common ones do +not get along best together. Does n't Cyprian want some more every-day +kind of girl to keep him straight? Myrtle is beautiful, +beautiful,--fascinates everybody. Has Mr. Bradshaw been following after +her lately? He is taken with her too. Didn't you ever think she would +have to give in to Murray Bradshaw at last? He looks to me like a man +that would hold on desperately as a lover." + +If Myrtle Hazard, instead of being a half-finished school-girl, hardly +sixteen years old, had been a young woman of eighteen or nineteen, it +would have been plain sailing enough for Murray Bradshaw. But he knew +what a distance their ages seemed just now to put between them,--a +distance which would grow practically less and less with every year, and +he did not wish to risk anything so long as there was no danger of +interference. He rather encouraged Gifted Hopkins to write poetry to +Myrtle. "Go in, Gifted," he said, "there's no telling what may come of +it," and Gifted did go in at a great rate. + +Murray Bradshaw did not write poetry himself, but he read poetry with a +good deal of effect, and he would sometimes take a hint from one of +Gifted Hopkins's last productions to recite a passionate lyric of Byron +or Moore, into which he would artfully throw so much meaning that Myrtle +was almost as much puzzled, in her simplicity, to know what it meant, as +she had been by the religious fervors of the Rev. Mr. Stoker. + +He spoke well of Cyprian Eveleth. A good young man,--limited, but +exemplary. Would succeed well as rector of a small parish. That +required little talent, but a good deal of the humbler sort of virtue. +As for himself, he confessed to ambition,--yes, a great deal of ambition. +A failing, he supposed, but not the worst of failings. He felt the +instinct to handle the larger interests of society. The village would +perhaps lose sight of him for a time; but he meant to emerge sooner or +later in the higher spheres of government or diplomacy. Myrtle must keep +his secret. Nobody else knew it. He could not help making a confidant +of her,--a thing he had never done before with any other person as to his +plans in life. Perhaps she might watch his career with more interest +from her acquaintance with him. He loved to think that there was one +woman at least who would be pleased to hear of his success if he +succeeded, as with life and health he would,--who would share his +disappointment if fate should not favor him.--So he wound and wreathed +himself into her thoughts. + +It was not very long before Myrtle began to accept the idea that she was +the one person in the world whose peculiar duty it was to sympathize with +the aspiring young man whose humble beginnings she had the honor of +witnessing. And it is not very far from being the solitary confidant, +and the single source of inspiration, to the growth of a livelier +interest, where a young man and a young woman are in question. + +Myrtle was at this time her own mistress as never before. The three +young men had access to her as she walked to and from meeting and in her +frequent rambles, besides the opportunities Cyprian had of meeting her in +his sister's company, and the convenient visits which, in connection with +the great lawsuit, Murray Bradshaw could make, without question, at The +Poplars. + +It was not long before Cyprian perceived that he could never pass a +certain boundary of intimacy with Myrtle. Very pleasant and sisterly +always she was with him; but she never looked as if she might mean more +than she said, and cherished a little spark of sensibility which might be +fanned into the flame of love. Cyprian felt this so certainly that he +was on the point of telling his grief to Bathsheba, who looked to him as +if she would sympathize as heartily with him as his own sister, and whose +sympathy would have a certain flavor in it,--something which one cannot +find in the heart of the dearest sister that ever lived. But Bathsheba +was herself sensitive, and changed color when Cyprian ventured a hint or +two in the direction of his thought, so that he never got so fax as to +unburden his heart to her about Myrtle, whom she admired so sincerely +that she could not have helped feeling a great interest in his passion +towards her. + +As for Gifted Hopkins, the roses that were beginning to bloom fresher and +fresher every day in Myrtle's cheeks unfolded themselves more and more +freely, to speak metaphorically, in his song. Every week she would +receive a delicately tinted note with lines to "Myrtle awaking," or to +"Myrtle retiring," (one string of verses a little too Musidora-ish, and +which soon found itself in the condition of a cinder, perhaps reduced to +that state by spontaneous combustion,) or to "The Flower of the Tropics," +or to the "Nymph of the River-side," or other poetical alias, such as +bards affect in their sieges of the female heart. + +Gifted Hopkins was of a sanguine temperament. As he read and re-read his +verses it certainly seemed to him that they must reach the heart of the +angelic being to whom they were addressed. That she was slow in +confessing the impression they made upon her, was a favorable sign; so +many girls called his poems "sweet pooty," that those charming words, +though soothing, no longer stirred him deeply. Myrtle's silence showed +that the impression his verses had made was deep. Time would develop her +sentiments; they were both young; his position was humble as yet; but +when he had become famous through the land-oh blissful thought!--the bard +of Oxbow Village would bear a name that any woman would be proud to +assume, and the M. H. which her delicate hands had wrought on the +kerchiefs she wore would yet perhaps be read, not Myrtle Hazard, but +Myrtle Hopkins. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +SUSAN'S YOUNG MAN. + +There seems no reasonable doubt that Myrtle Hazard might have made a +safe thing of it with Gifted Hopkins, (if so inclined,) provided that she +had only been secured against interference. But the constant habit of +reading his verses to Susan Posey was not without its risk to so +excitable a nature as that of the young poet. Poets were always capable +of divided affections, and Cowley's "Chronicle" is a confession that +would fit the whole tribe of them. It is true that Gifted had no right +to regard Susan's heart as open to the wiles of any new-comer. He knew +that she considered herself, and was considered by another, as pledged +and plighted. Yet she was such a devoted listener, her sympathies were +so easily roused, her blue eyes glistened so tenderly at the least +poetical hint, such as "Never, oh never," "My aching heart," "Go, let me +weep,"--any of those touching phrases out of the long catalogue which +readily suggests itself, that her influence was getting to be such that +Myrtle (if really anxious to secure him) might look upon it with +apprehension, and the owner of Susan's heart (if of a jealous +disposition) might have thought it worth while to make a visit to Oxbow +Village to see after his property. + +It may seem not impossible that some friend had suggested as much as this +to the young lady's lover. + +The caution would have been unnecessary, or at least premature. Susan was +loyal as ever to her absent friend. Gifted Hopkins had never yet +presumed upon the familiar relations existing between them to attempt to +shake her allegiance. It is quite as likely, after all, that the young +gentleman about to make his appearance in Oxbow Village visited the place +of his own accord, without a hint from anybody. But the fact concerns us +more than the reason of it, just now. + +"Who do you think is coming, Mr. Gridley? Who do you think is coming?" +said Susan Posey, her face covered with a carnation such as the first +season may see in a city belle, but not the second. + +"Well, Susan Posey, I suppose I must guess, though I am rather slow at +that business. Perhaps the Governor. No, I don't think it can be the +Governor, for you would n't look so happy if it was only his Excellency. +It must be the President, Susan Posey,--President James Buchanan. Have +n't I guessed right, now, tell me, my dear?" + +"O Mr. Gridley, you are too bad,--what do I care for governors and +presidents? I know somebody that's worth fifty million thousand +presidents,--and he 's coming,--my Clement is coming," said Susan, who +had by this time learned to consider the awful Byles Gridley as her next +friend and faithful counsellor. + +Susan could not stay long in the house after she got her note informing +her that her friend was soon to be with her. Everybody told everything +to Olive Eveleth, and Susan must run over to the parsonage to tell her +that there was a young gentleman coming to Oxbow Village; upon which +Olive asked who it was, exactly as if she did not know; whereupon Susan +dropped her eyes and said, "Clement,--I mean Mr. Lindsay." + +That was a fair piece of news now, and Olive had her bonnet on five +minutes after Susan was gone, and was on her way to Bathsheba's,--it was +too bad that the poor girl who lived so out of the world shouldn't know +anything of what was going on in it. Bathsheba had been in all the +morning, and the Doctor had said she must take the air every day; so +Bathsheba had on her bonnet a little after Olive had gone, and walked +straight up to The Poplars to tell Myrtle Hazard that a certain young +gentleman, Clement Lindsay, was coming to Oxbow Village. + +It was perhaps fortunate that there was no special significance to Myrtle +in the name of Clement Lindsay. Since the adventure which had brought +these two young persons together, and, after coming so near a disaster, +had ended in a mere humiliation and disappointment, and but for Master +Gridley's discreet kindness might have led to foolish scandal, Myrtle had +never referred to it in any way. Nobody really knew what her plans had +been except Olive and Cyprian, who had observed a very kind silence about +the whole matter. The common version of the story was harmless, and near +enough to the truth,--down the river,--boat upset,--pulled out,--taken +care of by some women in a house farther down,--sick, brain +fever,--pretty near it, anyhow,--old Dr. Hurlbut called in,--had her hair +cut,--hystericky, etc., etc. + +Myrtle was contented with this statement, and asked no questions, and it +was a perfectly understood thing that nobody alluded to the subject in +her presence. It followed from all this that the name of Clement Lindsay +had no peculiar meaning for her. Nor was she like to recognize him as +the youth in whose company she had gone through her mortal peril, for all +her recollections were confused and dreamlike from the moment when she +awoke and found herself in the foaming rapids just above the fall, until +that when her senses returned, and she saw Master Byles Gridley standing +over her with that look of tenderness in his square features which had +lingered in her recollection, and made her feel towards him as if she +were his daughter. + +Now this had its advantage; for as Clement was Susan's young man, and had +been so for two or three years, it would have been a great pity to have +any such curious relations established between him and Myrtle Hazard as a +consciousness on both sides of what had happened would naturally suggest. + +"Who is this Clement Lindsay, Bathsheba?" Myrtle asked. + +Why, Myrtle, don't you remember about Susan Posey's is-to-be,--the young +man that has been well, I don't know, but I suppose engaged to her ever +since they were children almost?" + +"Yes, yes, I remember now. Oh dear! I have forgotten so many things, I +should think I had been dead and was coming back to life again. Do you +know anything about him, Bathsheba? Did n't somebody say he was very +handsome? I wonder if he is really in love with Susan Posey. Such a +simple thing? I want to see him. I have seen so few young men." + +As Myrtle said these words, she lifted the sleeve a little on her left +arm, by a half-instinctive and half-voluntary movement. The glimmering +gold of Judith Pride's bracelet flashed out the yellow gleam which has +been the reddening of so many hands and the blackening of so, many souls +since that innocent sin-breeder was first picked up in the land of +Havilah. There came a sudden light into her eye, such as Bathsheba had +never seen there before. It looked to her as if Myrtle were saying +unconsciously to herself that she had the power of beauty, and would like +to try its influence on the handsome young man whom she was soon to meet, +even at the risk of unseating poor little Susan in his affections. This +pained the gentle and humble-minded girl, who, without having tasted the +world's pleasures, had meekly consecrated herself to the lowly duties +which lay nearest to her. For Bathsheba's phrasing of life was in the +monosyllables of a rigid faith. Her conceptions of the human soul were +all simplicity and purity, but elementary. She could not conceive the +vast license the creative energy allows itself in mingling the instincts +which, after long conflict, may come into harmonious adjustment. The +flash which Myrtle's eye had caught from the gleam of the golden bracelet +filled Bathsheba with a sudden fear that she was like to be led away by +the vanities of that world lying in wickedness of which the minister's +daughter had heard so much and seen so little. + +Not that Bathsheba made any fine moral speeches, to herself. She only +felt a slight shock, such as a word or a look from one we love too often +gives us,--such as a child's trivial gesture or movement makes a parent +feel,--that impalpable something which in the slightest possible +inflection of a syllable or gradation of a tone will sometimes leave a +sting behind it, even in a trusting heart. This was all. But it was true +that what she saw meant a great deal. It meant the dawning in Myrtle +Hazard of one of her as yet unlived secondary lives. Bathsheba's virgin +perceptions had caught a faint early ray of its glimmering twilight. + +She answered, after a very slight pause, which this explanation has made +seem so long, that she had never seen the young gentleman, and that she +did not know about Susan's sentiments. Only, as they had kept so long to +each other, she supposed there must be love between them. + +Myrtle fell into a revery, with certain tableaux glowing along its +perspectives which poor little Susan Posey would have shivered to look +upon, if they could have been transferred from the purple clouds of +Myrtle's imagination to the pale silvery mists of Susan's pretty fancies. +She sat in her day-dream long after Bathsheba had left her, her eyes +fixed, not on the faded portrait of her beatified ancestress, but on that +other canvas where the dead Beauty seemed to live in all the splendors of +her full-blown womanhood. + +The young man whose name had set her thoughts roving was handsome, as the +glance at him already given might have foreshadowed. But his features +had a graver impress than his age seemed to account for, and the sober +tone of his letter to Susan implied that something had given him a +maturity beyond his years. The story was not an uncommon one. At +sixteen he had dreamed-and told his dream. At eighteen he had awoke, and +found, as he believed, that a young heart had grown to his so that its +life was dependent on his own. Whether it would have perished if its +filaments had been gently disentangled from the object to which they had +attached themselves, experienced judges of such matters may perhaps +question. To justify Clement in his estimate of the danger of such an +experiment, we must remember that to young people in their teens a first +passion is a portentous and unprecedented phenomenon. The young man may +have been mistaken in thinking that Susan would die if he left her, and +may have done more than his duty in sacrificing himself; but if so, it +was the mistake of a generous youth, who estimated the depth of another's +feelings by his own. He measured the depth of his own rather by what he +felt they might be, than by that of any abysses they had yet sounded. + +Clement was called a "genius" by those who knew him, and was consequently +in danger of being spoiled early. The risk is great enough anywhere, but +greatest in a new country, where there is an almost universal want of +fixed standards of excellence. + +He was by nature an artist; a shaper with the pencil or the chisel, a +planner, a contriver capable of turning his hand to almost any work of +eye and hand. It would not have been strange if he thought he could do +everything, having gifts which were capable of various application,--and +being an American citizen. But though he was a good draughtsman, and had +made some reliefs and modelled some figures, he called himself only an +architect. He had given himself up to his art, not merely from a love +of it and talent for it, but with a kind of heroic devotion, because he +thought his country wanted a race of builders to clothe the new forms of +religious, social, and national life afresh from the forest, the quarry, +and the mine. Some thought he would succeed, others that he would be a +brilliant failure. + +"Grand notions,--grand notions," the master with whom he studied said. +"Large ground plan of life,--splendid elevation. A little wild in some +of his fancies, perhaps, but he's only a boy, and he's the kind of boy +that sometimes grows to be a pretty big man. Wait and see,--wait and +see. He works days, and we can let him dream nights. There's a good +deal of him, anyhow." His fellow-students were puzzled. Those who +thought of their calling as a trade, and looked forward to the time when +they should be embodying the ideals of municipal authorities in brick and +stone, or making contracts with wealthy citizens, doubted whether Clement +would have a sharp eye enough for business. "Too many whims, you know. +All sorts of queer ideas in his head,--as if a boy like him were going to +make things all over again!". + +No doubt there was something of youthful extravagance in his plans and +expectations. But it was the untamed enthusiasm which is the source of +all great thoughts and deeds,--a beautiful delirium which age commonly +tames down, and for which the cold shower-bath the world furnishes gratis +proves a pretty certain cure. + +Creation is always preceded by chaos. The youthful architect's mind was +confused by the multitude of suggestions which were crowding in upon it, +and which he had not yet had time or developed mature strength sufficient +to reduce to order. The young American of any freshness of intellect is +stimulated to dangerous excess by the conditions of life into which he is +born. There is a double proportion of oxygen in the New World air. The +chemists have not found it out yet, but human brains and breathing-organs +have long since made the discovery. + +Clement knew that his hasty entanglement had limited his possibilities of +happiness in one direction, and he felt that there was a certain grandeur +in the recompense of working out his defeated instincts through the +ambitious medium of his noble art. Had not Pharaohs chosen it to +proclaim their longings for immortality, Caesars their passion for pomp +and luxury, and priests to symbolize their conceptions of the heavenly +mansions? His dreams were on a grand scale; such, after all, are the +best possessions of youth. Had he but been free, or mated with a nature +akin to his own, he would have felt himself as truly the heir of creation +as any young man that lived. But his lot was cast, and his youth had all +the serious aspect to himself of thoughtful manhood. In the region of +his art alone he hoped always to find freedom and a companionship which +his home life could never give him. + +Clement meant to have visited his beloved before he left Alderbank, +but was called unexpectedly back to the city. Happily Susan was not +exacting; she looked up to him with too great a feeling of distance +between them to dare to question his actions. Perhaps she found a +partial consolation in the company of Mr. Gifted Hopkins, who tried +his new poems on her, which was the next best thing to addressing +them to her. "Would that you were with us at this delightful +season," she wrote in the autumn; "but no, your Susan must not +repine. Yet, in the beautiful words of our native poet, + + "Oh would, oh would that thou wast here, + For absence makes thee doubly dear; + Ah! what is life while thou 'rt away? + 'T is night without the orb of day!'" + +The poet referred to, it need hardly be said, was our young and promising +friend G. H., as he sometimes modestly signed himself. The letter, it is +unnecessary to state, was voluminous,--for a woman can tell her love, or +other matter of interest, over and over again in as many forms as another +poet, not G. H., found for his grief in ringing the musical changes of +"In Memoriam." + +The answers to Susan's letters were kind, but not very long. They +convinced her that it was a simple impossibility that Clement could come +to Oxbow Village, on account of the great pressure of the work he had to +keep him in the city, and the plans he must finish at any rate. But at +last the work was partially got rid of, and Clement was coming; yes, it +was so nice, and, oh dear! should n't she be real happy to see him? + +To Susan he appeared as a kind of divinity, almost too grand for human +nature's daily food. Yet, if the simple-hearted girl could have told +herself the whole truth in plain words, she would have confessed to +certain doubts which from time to time, and oftener of late, cast a +shadow on her seemingly bright future. With all the pleasure that the +thought of meeting Clement gave her, she felt a little tremor, a certain +degree of awe, in contemplating his visit. If she could have clothed her +self-humiliation in the gold and purple of the "Portuguese Sonnets," it +would have been another matter; but the trouble with the most common +sources of disquiet is that they have no wardrobe of flaming phraseology +to air themselves in; the inward burning goes on without the relief and +gratifying display of the crater. + +"A friend of mine is coming to the village," she said to Mr. Gifted +Hopkins. "I want you to see him. He is a genius,--as some other young +men are." (This was obviously personal, and the youthful poet blushed +with ingenuous delight.) "I have known him for ever so many years. He +and I are very good friends." The poet knew that this meant an exclusive +relation between them; and though the fact was no surprise to him, his +countenance fell a little. The truth was, that his admiration was +divided between Myrtle, who seemed to him divine and adorable, but +distant, and Susan, who listened to his frequent poems, whom he was in +the habit of seeing in artless domestic costumes, and whose attractions +had been gaining upon him of late in the enforced absence of his +divinity. + +He retired pensive from this interview, and, flinging himself at his +desk, attempted wreaking his thoughts upon expression, to borrow the +language of one of his brother bards, in a passionate lyric which he +began thus-- + + "ANOTHER'S! + + "Another's! Oh the pang, the smart! + Fate owes to Love a deathless grudge, + --The barbed fang has rent a heart + Which--which + +"judge--judge,--no, not judge. Budge, drudge, fudge--What a disgusting +language English is! Nothing fit to couple with such a word as grudge! +And the gush of an impassioned moment arrested in full flow, stopped +short, corked up, for want of a paltry rhyme! + +Judge,--budge,--drudge,--nudge, oh!--smudge,--misery!--fudge. In +vain,--futile,--no use,--all up for to-night!" + +While the poet, headed off in this way by the poverty of his native +tongue, sought inspiration by retiring into the world of dreams,--went to +bed, in short, his more fortunate rival was just entering the village, +where he was to make his brief residence at the house of Deacon Rumrill, +who, having been a loser by the devouring element, was glad to receive a +stray boarder when any such were looking about for quarters. + +For some reason or other he was restless that evening, and took out a +volume he had brought with him to beguile the earlier hours of the night. +It was too late when he arrived to disturb the quiet of Mrs. Hopkins's +household, and whatever may have been Clement's impatience, he held it in +check, and sat tranquilly until midnight over the pages of the book with +which he had prudently provided himself. + +"Hope you slept well last night," said the old Deacon, when Mr. Clement +came down to breakfast the next morning. + +"Very well, thank you,--that is, after I got to bed. But I sat up pretty +late reading my favorite Scott. I am apt to forget how the hours pass +when I have one of his books in my hand." + +The worthy Deacon looked at Mr. Clement with a sudden accession of +interest. + +"You couldn't find better reading, young man. Scott is my favorite +author. A great man. I have got his likeness in a gilt-frame hanging up +in the other room. I have read him all through three times." + +The young man's countenance brightened. He had not expected to find so +much taste for elegant literature in an old village deacon. + +"What are your favorites among his writings, Deacon? I suppose you have +your particular likings, as the rest of us have." + +The Deacon was flattered by the question. "Well," he answered, "I can +hardly tell you. I like pretty much everything Scott ever wrote. +Sometimes I think it is one thing, and sometimes another. Great on +Paul's Epistles,--don't you think so?" + +The honest fact was, that Clement remembered very little about "Paul's +Letters to his Kinsfolk,"--a book of Sir Walter's less famous than many +of his others; but he signified his polite assent to the Deacon's +statement, rather wondering at his choice of a favorite, and smiling at +his queer way of talking about the Letters as Epistles. + +"I am afraid Scott is not so much read now-a-days as he once was, and as +he ought to be," said Mr. Clement: "Such character, such nature and so +much grace." + +"That's it,--that's it, young man," the Deacon broke in,--"Natur' and +Grace,--Natur' and Grace. Nobody ever knew better what those two words +meant than Scott did, and I'm very glad to see--you've chosen such good +wholesome reading. You can't set up too late, young man, to read Scott. +If I had twenty children, they should all begin reading Scott as soon as +they were old enough to spell sin,--and that's the first word my little +ones learned, next to 'pa' and I 'ma.' Nothing like beginning the lessons +of life in good season." + +"What a grim old satirist!" Clement said to himself. "I wonder if the +old man reads other novelists.--Do tell me, Deacon, if you have read +Thackeray's last story? " + +"Thackeray's story? Published by the American Tract Society?" + +"Not exactly," Clement answered, smiling, and quite delighted to find +such an unexpected vein of grave pleasantry about the demure-looking +church-dignitary; for the Deacon asked his question without moving a +muscle, and took no cognizance whatever of the young man's tone and +smile. First-class humorists are, as is well known, remarkable for the +immovable solemnity of their features. Clement promised himself not a +little amusement from the curiously sedate drollery of the venerable +Deacon, who, it was plain from his conversation, had cultivated a +literary taste which would make him a more agreeable companion than the +common ecclesiastics of his grade in country villages. + +After breakfast, Mr. Clement walked forth in the direction of Mrs. +Hopkins's house, thinking as he went of the pleasant surprise his visit +would bring to his longing and doubtless pensive Susan; for though she +knew he was coming, she did not know that he was at that moment in Oxbow +Village. + +As he drew near the house, the first thing he saw was Susan Posey, almost +running against her just as he turned a corner. She looked wonderfully +lively and rosy, for the weather was getting keen and the frosts had +begun to bite. A young gentleman was walking at her side, and reading to +her from a paper he held in his hand. Both looked deeply interested,--so +much so that Clement felt half ashamed of himself for intruding upon them +so abruptly. + +But lovers are lovers, and Clement could not help joining them. The +first thing, of course, was the utterance of two simultaneous +exclamations, "Why, Clement!" "Why, Susan!" What might have come next +in the programme, but for the presence of a third party, is matter of +conjecture; but what did come next was a mighty awkward look on the part +of Susan Posey, and the following short speech: "Mr. Lindsay, let me +introduce Mr. Hopkins, my friend, the poet I 've written to you about. +He was just reading two of his poems to me. Some other time, Gifted--Mr. +Hopkins." + +"Oh no, Mr. Hopkins,--pray go on," said Clement. "I 'm very fond of +poetry." + +The poet did not require much urging, and began at once reciting over +again the stanzas which were afterwards so much admired in the "Banner +and Oracle,"--the first verse being, as the readers of that paper will +remember, + + "She moves in splendor, like the ray + That flashes from unclouded skies, + And all the charms of night and day + Are mingled in her hair and eyes." + +Clement, who must have been in an agony of impatience to be alone with +his beloved, commanded his feelings admirably. He signified his +approbation of the poem by saying that the lines were smooth and the +rhymes absolutely without blemish. The stanzas reminded him forcibly of +one of the greatest poets of the century. + +Gifted flushed hot with pleasure. He had tasted the blood of his own +rhymes; and when a poet gets as far as that, it is like wringing the bag +of exhilarating gas from the lips of a fellow sucking at it, to drag his +piece away from him. + +"Perhaps you will like these lines still better," he said; "the style is +more modern:-- + + "'O daughter of the spiced South, + Her bubbly grapes have spilled the wine + That staineth with its hue divine + The red flower of thy perfect mouth.'" + +And so on, through a series of stanzas like these, with the pulp of two +rhymes between the upper and lower crust of two others. + +Clement was cornered. It was necessary to say something for the poet's +sake,--perhaps for Susan's; for she was in a certain sense responsible +for the poems of a youth of genius, of whom she had spoken so often and +so enthusiastically. + +"Very good, Mr. Hopkins, and a form of verse little used, I should think, +until of late years. You modelled this piece on the style of a famous +living English poet, did you not?" + +"Indeed I did not, Mr. Lindsay,--I never imitate. Originality is, if I +may be allowed to say so much for myself, my peculiar forte. Why, the +critics allow as much as that. See here, Mr. Lindsay." + +Mr. Gifted Hopkins pulled out his pocket-book, and, taking therefrom a +cutting from a newspaper,--which dropped helplessly open of itself, as if +tired of the process, being very tender in the joints or creases, by +reason of having been often folded and unfolded read aloud as follows: + +"The bard of Oxbow Pillage--our valued correspondent who writes over the +signature of G. H.--is, in our opinion, more remarkable for his +originality than for any other of his numerous gifts." + +Clement was apparently silenced by this, and the poet a little elated +with a sense of triumph. Susan could not help sharing his feeling of +satisfaction, and without meaning it in the least, nay, without knowing +it, for she was as simple and pure as new milk, edged a little bit--the +merest infinitesimal atom--nearer to Gifted Hopkins, who was on one side +of her, while Clement walked on the other. Women love the conquering +party,--it is the way of their sex. And poets, as we have seen, are +well-nigh irresistible when they exert their dangerous power of +fascination upon the female heart. But Clement was above jealousy; and, +if he perceived anything of this movement, took no notice of it. + +He saw a good deal of his pretty Susan that day. She was tender in her +expressions and manners as usual, but there was a little something in her +looks and language from time to time that Clement did not know exactly +what to make of. She colored once or twice when the young poet's name +was mentioned. She was not so full of her little plans for the future as +she had sometimes been, "everything was so uncertain," she said. Clement +asked himself whether she felt quite as sure that her attachment would +last as she once did. But there were no reproaches, not even any +explanations, which are about as bad between lovers. There was nothing +but an undefined feeling on his side that she did not cling quite so +closely to him, perhaps, as he had once thought, and that, if he had +happened to have been drowned that day when he went down with the +beautiful young woman, it was just conceivable that Susan, who would have +cried dreadfully, no doubt, would in time have listened to consolation +from some other young man,--possibly from the young poet whose verses he +had been admiring. Easy-crying widows take new husbands soonest; there +is nothing like wet weather for transplanting, as Master Gridley used to +say. Susan had a fluent natural gift for tears, as Clement well knew, +after the exercise of which she used to brighten up like the rose which +had been washed, just washed in a shower, mentioned by Cowper. + +As for the poet, he learned more of his own sentiments during this visit +of Clement's than he had ever before known. He wandered about with a +dreadfully disconsolate look upon his countenance. He showed a +falling-off in his appetite at tea-time, which surprised and disturbed +his mother, for she had filled the house with fragrant suggestions of +good things coming, in honor of Mr. Lindsay, who was to be her guest at +tea. And chiefly the genteel form of doughnut called in the native +dialect cymbal (Qu. Symbol? B. G.) which graced the board with its +plastic forms, suggestive of the most pleasing objects,--the spiral +ringlets pendent from the brow of beauty; the magic circlet, which is the +pledge of plighted affection,--the indissoluble knot, which typifies the +union of hearts, which organs were also largely represented; this +exceptional delicacy would at any other time have claimed his special +notice. But his mother remarked that he paid little attention to these, +and his, "No, I thank you," when it came to the preserved "damsels," as +some call them, carried a pang with it to the maternal bosom. The most +touching evidence of his unhappiness--whether intentional or the result +of accident was not evident was a broken heart, which he left upon his +plate, the meaning of which was as plain as anything in the language of +flowers. His thoughts were gloomy during that day, running a good deal +on the more picturesque and impressive methods of bidding a voluntary +farewell to a world which had allured him with visions of beauty only to +snatch them from his impassioned gaze. His mother saw something of this, +and got from him a few disjointed words, which led her to lock up the +clothes-line and hide her late husband's razors,--an affectionate, yet +perhaps unnecessary precaution, for self-elimination contemplated from +this point of view by those who have the natural outlet of verse to +relieve them is rarely followed by a casualty. It may rather be +considered as implying a more than average chance for longevity; as those +who meditate an--imposing finish naturally save themselves for it, and +are therefore careful of their health until the time comes, and this is +apt to be indefinitely postponed so long as there is a poem to write or a +proof to be corrected. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE SECOND MEETING. + +Miss Eveleth requests the pleasure of Mr. Lindsay's company to meet a few +friends on the evening of the Feast of St. Ambrose, December 7th, +Wednesday. + +THE PARSONAGE, December 6th. + +It was the luckiest thing in the world. They always made a little +festival of that evening at the Rev. Ambrose Eveleth's, in honor of his +canonized namesake, and because they liked to have a good time. It came +this year just at the right moment, for here was a distinguished stranger +visiting in the place. Oxbow Village seemed to be running over with its +one extra young man,--as may be seen sometimes in larger villages, and +even in cities of moderate dimensions. + +Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had called on Clement the day after his +arrival. He had already met the Deacon in the street, and asked some +questions about his transient boarder. + +A very interesting young man, the Deacon said, much given to the reading +of pious books. Up late at night after he came, reading Scott's +Commentary. Appeared to be as fond of serious works as other young folks +were of their novels and romances and other immoral publications. He, +the Deacon, thought of having a few religious friends to meet the young +gentleman, if he felt so disposed; and should like to have him, Mr. +Bradshaw, come in and take a part in the exercises.--Mr. Bradshaw was +unfortunately engaged. He thought the young gentleman could hardly find +time for such a meeting during his brief visit. + +Mr. Bradshaw expected naturally to see a youth of imperfect constitution, +and cachectic or dyspeptic tendencies, who was in training to furnish one +of those biographies beginning with the statement that, from his infancy, +the subject of it showed no inclination for boyish amusements, and so on, +until he dies out, for the simple reason that there was not enough of him +to live. Very interesting, no doubt, Master Byles Gridley would have +said, but had no more to do with good, hearty, sound life than the +history of those very little people to be seen in museums preserved in +jars of alcohol, like brandy peaches. + +When Mr. Clement Lindsay presented himself, Mr. Bradshaw was a good deal +surprised to see a young fellow of such a mould. He pleased himself with +the idea that he knew a man of mark at sight, and he set down Clement in +that category at his first glance. The young man met his penetrating and +questioning look with a frank, ingenuous, open aspect, before which he +felt himself disarmed, as it were, and thrown upon other means of +analysis. He would try him a little in talk. + +"I hope you like these people you are with. What sort of a man do you +find my old friend the Deacon?" + +Clement laughed. "A very queer old character. Loves his joke as well, +and is as sly in making it, as if he had studied Joe Miller instead of +the Catechism." + +Mr. Bradshaw looked at the young man to know what he meant. Mr. Lindsay +talked in a very easy way for a serious young person. He was puzzled. +He did not see to the bottom of this description of the Deacon. With a +lawyer's instinct, he kept his doubts to himself and tried his witness +with a new question. + +"Did you talk about books at all with the old man?" + +"To be sure I did. Would you believe it,--that aged saint is a great +novel-reader. So he tells me. What is more, he brings up his children +to that sort of reading, from the time when they first begin to spell. +If anybody else had told me such a story about an old country deacon, I +wouldn't have believed it; but he said so himself, to me, at breakfast +this morning." + +Mr. Bradshaw felt as if either he or Mr. Lindsay must certainly be in the +first stage of mild insanity, and he did not think that he himself could +be out of his wits. He must try one more question. He had become so +mystified that he forgot himself, and began putting his interrogation in +legal form. + +"Will you state, if you please--I beg your pardon--may I ask who is your +own favorite author?" + +"I think just now I like to read Scott better than almost anybody." + +"Do you mean the Rev. Thomas Scott, author of the Commentary?" + +Clement stared at Mr. Bradshaw, and wondered whether he was trying to +make a fool of him. The young lawyer hardly looked as if he could be a +fool himself. + +"I mean Sir Walter Scott," he said, dryly. + +"Oh!" said Mr. Bradshaw. He saw that there had been a slight +misunderstanding between the young man and his worthy host, but it was +none of his business, and there were other subjects of interest to talk +about. + +"You know one of our charming young ladies very well, I believe, Mr. +Lindsay. I think you are an old acquaintance of Miss Posey, whom we all +consider so pretty." + +Poor Clement! The question pierced to the very marrow of his soul, but +it was put with the utmost suavity and courtesy, and honeyed with a +compliment to the young lady, too, so that there was no avoiding a direct +and pleasant answer to it. + +"Yes," he said, "I have known the young lady you speak of for a long +time, and very well,--in fact, as you must have heard, we are something +more than friends. My visit here is principally on her account." + +"You must give the rest of us a chance to see something of you during +your visit, Mr. Lindsay. I hope you are invited to Miss Eveleth's +to-morrow evening?" + +"Yes, I got a note this morning. Tell me, Mr. Bradshaw, who is there +that I shall meet if I go? I have no doubt there are girls here in the +village I should like to see, and perhaps some young fellows that I +should like to talk with. You know all that's prettiest and pleasantest, +of course." + +"Oh, we're a little place, Mr. Lindsay. A few nice people, the rest +comme Va, you know. High-bush blackberries and low-bush +black-berries,--you understand,--just so everywhere,--high-bush here and +there, low-bush plenty. You must see the two parsons' daughters,--Saint +Ambrose's and Saint Joseph's,--and another girl I want particularly to +introduce you to. You shall form your own opinion of her. I call her +handsome and stylish, but you have got spoiled, you know. Our young +poet, too, one we raised in this place, Mr. Lindsay, and a superior +article of poet, as we think,--that is, some of us, for the rest of us +are jealous of him, because the girls are all dying for him and want his +autograph. And Cyp,--yes, you must talk to Cyp,--he has ideas. But +don't forget to get hold of old Byles Master Gridley I mean--before you +go. Big head. Brains enough for a cabinet minister, and fit out a +college faculty with what was left over. Be sure you see old Byles. Set +him talking about his book, 'Thoughts on the Universe.' Did n't sell +much, but has got knowing things in it. I'll show you a copy, and then +you can tell him you know it, and he will take to you. Come in and get +your dinner with me to-morrow. We will dine late, as the city folks do, +and after that we will go over to the Rector's. I should like to show +you some of our village people." + +Mr. Bradshaw liked the thought of showing the young man to some of his +friends there. As Clement was already "done for," or "bowled out," as +the young lawyer would have expressed the fact of his being pledged in +the matrimonial direction, there was nothing to be apprehended on the +score of rivalry. And although Clement was particularly good-looking, +and would have been called a distinguishable youth anywhere, Mr. Bradshaw +considered himself far more than his match, in all probability, in social +accomplishments. He expected, therefore, a certain amount of reflex +credit for bringing such a fine young fellow in his company, and a second +instalment of reputation from outshining him in conversation. This was +rather nice calculating, but Murray Bradshaw always calculated. With most +men life is like backgammon, half skill, and half luck, but with him it +was like chess. He never pushed a pawn without reckoning the cost, and +when his mind was least busy it was sure to be half a dozen moves ahead +of the game as it was standing. + +Mr. Bradshaw gave Clement a pretty dinner enough for such a place as +Oxbow Village. He offered him some good wine, and would have made him +talk so as to show his lining, to use one of his own expressions, but +Clement had apparently been through that trifling experience, and could +not be coaxed into saying more than he meant to say. Murray Bradshaw was +very curious to find out how it was that he had become the victim of such +a rudimentary miss as Susan Posey. Could she be an heiress in disguise? +Why no, of course not; had not he made all proper inquiries about that +when Susan came to town? A small inheritance from an aunt or uncle, or +some such relative, enough to make her a desirable party in the eyes of +certain villagers perhaps, but nothing to allure a man like this, whose +face and figure as marketable possessions were worth say a hundred +thousand in the girl's own right, as Mr. Bradshaw put it roughly, with +another hundred thousand if his talent is what some say, and if his +connection is a desirable one, a fancy price,--anything he would fetch. +Of course not. Must have got caught when he was a child. Why the diavolo +didn't he break it off, then? + +There was no fault to find with the modest entertainment at the +Parsonage. A splendid banquet in a great house is an admirable thing, +provided always its getting up did not cost the entertainer an inward +conflict, nor its recollection a twinge of economical regret, nor its +bills a cramp of anxiety. A simple evening party in the smallest village +is just as admirable in its degree, when the parlor is cheerfully +lighted, and the board prettily spread, and the guests are made to feel +comfortable without being reminded that anybody is making a painful +effort. + +We know several of the young people who were there, and need not trouble +ourselves for the others. Myrtle Hazard had promised to come. She had +her own way of late as never before; in fact, the women were afraid of +her. Miss Silence felt that she could not be responsible for her any +longer. She had hopes for a time that Myrtle would go through the +customary spiritual paroxysm under the influence of the Rev. Mr. Stoker's +assiduous exhortations; but since she had broken off with him, Miss +Silence had looked upon her as little better than a backslider. And now +that the girl was beginning to show the tendencies which seemed to come +straight down to her from the belle of the last century, (whose rich +physical developments seemed to the under-vitalized spinster as in +themselves a kind of offence against propriety,) the forlorn woman folded +her thin hands and looked on hopelessly, hardly venturing a remonstrance +for fear of some new explosion. As for Cynthia, she was comparatively +easy since she had, through Mr. Byles Gridley, upset the minister's +questionable arrangement of religious intimacy. She had, in fact, in a +quiet way, given Mr. Bradshaw to understand that he would probably meet +Myrtle at the Parsonage if he dropped in at their small gathering. +Clement walked over to Mrs. Hopkins's after his dinner with the young +lawyer, and asked if Susan was ready to go with him. At the sound of his +voice, Gifted Hopkins smote his forehead, and called himself, in subdued +tones, a miserable being. His imagination wavered uncertain for a while +between pictures of various modes of ridding himself of existence, and +fearful deeds involving the life of others. He had no fell purpose of +actually doing either, but there was a gloomy pleasure in contemplating +them as possibilities, and in mentally sketching the "Lines written in +Despair" which would be found in what was but an hour before the pocket +of the youthful bard, G. H., victim of a hopeless passion. All this +emotion was in the nature of a surprise to the young man. He had fully +believed himself desperately in love with Myrtle Hazard; and it was not +until Clement came into the family circle with the right of eminent +domain over the realm of Susan's affections, that this unfortunate +discovered that Susan's pretty ways and morning dress and love of poetry +and liking for his company had been too much for him, and that he was +henceforth to be wretched during the remainder of his natural life, +except so far as he could unburden himself in song. + +Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had asked the privilege of waiting upon +Myrtle to the little party at the Eveleths. Myrtle was not insensible to +the attractions of the young lawyer, though she had never thought of +herself except as a child in her relations with any of these older +persons. But she was not the same girl that she had been but a few +months before. She had achieved her independence by her audacious and +most dangerous enterprise. She had gone through strange nervous trials +and spiritual experiences which had matured her more rapidly than years +of common life would have done. She had got back her health, bringing +with it a riper wealth of womanhood. She had found her destiny in the +consciousness that she inherited the beauty belonging to her blood, and +which, after sleeping for a generation or two as if to rest from the +glare of the pageant that follows beauty through its long career of +triumph, had come to the light again in her life, and was to repeat the +legends of the olden time in her own history. + +Myrtle's wardrobe had very little of ornament, such as the modistes of +the town would have thought essential to render a young girl like her +presentable. There were a few heirlooms of old date, however, which she +had kept as curiosities until now, and which she looked over until she +found some lace and other convertible material, with which she enlivened +her costume a little for the evening. As she clasped the antique +bracelet around her wrist, she felt as if it were an amulet that gave her +the power of charming which had been so long obsolete in her lineage. At +the bottom of her heart she cherished a secret longing to try her +fascinations on the young lawyer. Who could blame her? It was not an +inwardly expressed intention,--it was the simple instinctive movement to +subjugate the strongest of the other sex who had come in her way, which, +as already said, is as natural to a woman as it is to a man to be +captivated by the loveliest of those to whom he dares to aspire. + +Before William Murray Bradshaw and Myrtle Hazard had reached the +Parsonage, the girl's cheeks were flushed and her dark eyes were flashing +with a new excitement. The young man had not made love to her directly, +but he had interested her in herself by a delicate and tender flattery of +manner, and so set her fancies working that she was taken with him as +never before, and wishing that the Parsonage had been a mile farther from +The Poplars. It was impossible for a young girl like Myrtle to conceal +the pleasure she received from listening to her seductive admirer, who +was trying all his trained skill upon his artless companion. Murray +Bradshaw felt sure that the game was in his hands if he played it with +only common prudence. There was no need of hurrying this child,--it might +startle her to make downright love abruptly; and now that he had an ally +in her own household, and was to have access to her with a freedom he had +never before enjoyed, there was a refined pleasure in playing his +fish,--this gamest of golden-scaled creatures,--which had risen to his +fly, and which he wished to hook, but not to land, until he was sure it +would be worth his while. + +They entered the little parlor at the Parsonage looking so beaming, that +Olive and Bathsheba exchanged glances which implied so much that it would +take a full page to tell it with all the potentialities involved. + +"How magnificent Myrtle is this evening, Bathsheba!" said Cyprian +Eveleth, pensively. + +"What a handsome pair they are, Cyprian!" said Bathsheba cheerfully. + +Cyprian sighed. "She always fascinates me whenever I look upon her. Is +n't she the very picture of what a poet's love should be,--a poem +herself,--a glorious lyric,--all light and music! See what a smile the +creature has! And her voice! When did you ever hear such tones? And +when was it ever so full of life before." + +Bathsheba sighed. "I do not know any poets but Gifted Hopkins. Does not +Myrtle look more in her place by the side of Murray Bradshaw than she +would with Gifted hitched on her arm?" + +Just then the poet made his appearance. He looked depressed, as if it +had cost him an effort to come. He was, however, charged with a message +which he must deliver to the hostess of the evening. + +"They 're coming presently," he said. "That young man and Susan. Wants +you to introduce him, Mr. Bradshaw." + +The bell rang presently, and Murray Bradshaw slipped out into the entry +to meet the two lovers. + +"How are you, my fortunate friend?" he said, as he met them at the door. +"Of course you're well and happy as mortal man can be in this vale of +tears. Charming, ravishing, quite delicious, that way of dressing your +hair, Miss Posey! Nice girls here this evening, Mr. Lindsay. Looked +lovely when I came out of the parlor. Can't say how they will show after +this young lady puts in an appearance." In reply to which florid +speeches Susan blushed, not knowing what else to do, and Clement smiled +as naturally as if he had been sitting for his photograph. + +He felt, in a vague way, that he and Susan were being patronized, which +is not a pleasant feeling to persons with a certain pride of character. +There was no expression of contempt about Mr. Bradshaw's manner or +language at which he could take offence. Only he had the air of a man +who praises his neighbor without stint, with a calm consciousness that he +himself is out of reach of comparison in the possessions or qualities +which he is admiring in the other. Clement was right in his obscure +perception of Mr. Bradshaw's feeling while he was making his phrases. +That gentleman was, in another moment, to have the tingling delight of +showing the grand creature he had just begun to tame. He was going to +extinguish the pallid light of Susan's prettiness in the brightness of +Myrtle's beauty. He would bring this young man, neutralized and rendered +entirely harmless by his irrevocable pledge to a slight girl, face to +face with a masterpiece of young womanhood, and say to him, not in words, +but as plainly as speech could have told him, "Behold my captive!" + +It was a proud moment for Murray Bradshaw. He had seen, or thought that +he had seen, the assured evidence of a speedy triumph over all the +obstacles of Myrtle's youth and his own present seeming slight excess of +maturity. Unless he were very greatly mistaken, he could now walk the +course; the plate was his, no matter what might be the entries. And this +youth, this handsome, spirited-looking, noble-aired young fellow, whose +artist-eye could not miss a line of Myrtle's proud and almost defiant +beauty, was to be the witness of his power, and to look in admiration +upon his prize! He introduced him to the others, reserving her for the +last. She was at that moment talking with the worthy Rector, and turned +when Mr. Bradshaw spoke to her. + +"Miss Hazard, will you allow me to present to you my friend, Mr. Clement +Lindsay?" + +They looked full upon each other, and spoke the common words of +salutation. It was a strange meeting; but we who profess to tell the +truth must tell strange things, or we shall be liars. + +In poor little Susan's letter there was some allusion to a bust of +Innocence which the young artist had begun, but of which he had said +nothing in his answer to her. He had roughed out a block of marble for +that impersonation; sculpture was a delight to him, though secondary to +his main pursuit. After his memorable adventure, the image of the girl +he had rescued so haunted him that the pale ideal which was to work +itself out in the bust faded away in its perpetual presence, and--alas, +poor Susan! in obedience to the impulse that he could not control, he +left Innocence sleeping in the marble, and began modelling a figure of +proud and noble and imperious beauty, to which he gave the name of +Liberty. + +The original which had inspired his conception was before him. These +were the lips to which his own had clung when he brought her back from +the land of shadows. The hyacinthine curl of her lengthening locks had +added something to her beauty; but it was the same face which had haunted +him. This was the form he had borne seemingly lifeless in his arms, and +the bosom which heaved so visibly before him was that which his eyes they +were the calm eyes of a sculptor, but of a sculptor hardly twenty years +old. + +Yes,--her bosom was heaving. She had an unexplained feeling of +suffocation, and drew great breaths,--she could not have said why,--but +she could not help it; and presently she became giddy, and had a great +noise in her ears, and rolled her eyes about, and was on the point of +going into an hysteric spasm. They called Dr. Hurlbut, who was making +himself agreeable to Olive just then, to come and see what was the matter +with Myrtle. + +"A little nervous turn,--that is all," he said. + +"Open the window. Loose the ribbon round her neck. Rub her hands. +Sprinkle some water on her forehead. + +"A few drops of cologne. Room too warm for her,--that 's all, I think." + +Myrtle came to herself after a time without anything like a regular +paroxysm. But she was excitable, and whatever the cause of the +disturbance may have been, it seemed prudent that she should go home +early; and the excellent Rector insisted on caring for her, much to the +discontent of Mr. William Murray Bradshaw. + +"Demonish odd," said this gentleman, "was n't it, Mr. Lindsay, that Miss +Hazard should go off in that way. Did you ever see her before?" + +"I--I--have seen that young lady before," Clement answered. + +"Where did you meet her?" Mr. Bradshaw asked, with eager interest. + +"I met her in the Valley of the Shadow of Death," Clement answered, very +solemnly.--"I leave this place to-morrow morning. Have you any commands +for the city?" + +"Knows how to shut a fellow up pretty well for a young one, doesn't he?" +Mr. Bradshaw thought to himself. + +"Thank you, no," he answered, recovering himself. "Rather a melancholy +place to make acquaintance in, I should think, that Valley you spoke of. +I should like to know about it." + +Mr. Clement had the power of looking steadily into another person's eyes +in a way that was by no means encouraging to curiosity or favorable to +the process of cross-examination. Mr. Bradshaw was not disposed to press +his question in the face of the calm, repressive look the young man gave +him. + +"If he was n't bagged, I shouldn't like the shape of things any too +well," he said to himself. + +The conversation between Mr. Clement Lindsay and Miss Susan Posey, as +they walked home together, was not very brilliant. "I am going to-morrow +morning," he said, "and I must bid you good-by tonight." Perhaps it is as +well to leave two lovers to themselves, under these circumstances. + +Before he went he spoke to his worthy host, whose moderate demands he had +to satisfy, and with whom he wished to exchange a few words. + +"And by the way, Deacon, I have no use for this book, and as it is in a +good type, perhaps you would like it. Your favorite, Scott, and one of +his greatest works. I have another edition of it at home, and don't care +for this volume." + +"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Lindsay, much obleeged. I shall read that +copy for your sake, the best of books next to the Bible itself." + +After Mr. Lindsay had gone, the Deacon looked at the back of the book. +"Scott's Works, Vol. IX." He opened it at hazard, and happened to fall +on a well-known page, from which he began reading aloud, slowly, + + "When Izrul, of the Lord beloved, + Out of the land of bondage came." + +The whole hymn pleased the grave Deacon. He had never seen this work of +the author of the Commentary. No matter; anything that such a good man +wrote must be good reading, and he would save it up for Sunday. The +consequence of this was, that, when the Rev. Mr. Stoker stopped in on his +way to meeting on the "Sabbath," he turned white with horror at the +spectacle of the senior Deacon of his church sitting, open-mouthed and +wide-eyed, absorbed in the pages of "Ivanhoe," which he found enormously +interesting; but, so far as he had yet read, not occupied with religious +matters so much as he had expected. + +Myrtle had no explanation to give of her nervous attack. Mr. Bradshaw +called the day after the party, but did not see her. He met her walking, +and thought she seemed a little more distant than common. That would +never do. He called again at The Poplars a few days afterwards, and was +met in the entry by Miss Cynthia, with whom he had a long conversation on +matters involving Myrtle's interests and their own. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +MADNESS? + +Mr. Clement Lindsay returned to the city and his usual labors in a state +of strange mental agitation. He had received an impression for which he +was unprepared. He had seen for the second time a young girl whom, for +the peace of his own mind, and for the happiness of others, he should +never again have looked upon until Time had taught their young hearts the +lesson which all hearts must learn, sooner or later. + +What shall the unfortunate person do who has met with one of those +disappointments, or been betrayed into one of those positions, which do +violence to all the tenderest feelings, blighting the happiness of youth, +and the prospects of after years? + +If the person is a young man, he has various resources. He can take to +the philosophic meerschaum, and nicotine himself at brief intervals into +a kind of buzzing and blurry insensibility, until he begins to "color" at +last like the bowl of his own pipe, and even his mind gets the tobacco +flavor. Or he can have recourse to the more suggestive stimulants, which +will dress his future up for him in shining possibilities that glitter +like Masonic regalia, until the morning light and the waking headache +reveal his illusion. Some kind of spiritual anaesthetic he must have, if +he holds his grief fast tied to his heartstrings. But as grief must be +fed with thought, or starve to death, it is the best plan to keep the +mind so busy in other ways that it has no time to attend to the wants of +that ravening passion. To sit down and passively endure it, is apt to +end in putting all the mental machinery into disorder. + +Clement Lindsay had thought that his battle of life was already fought, +and that he had conquered. He believed that he had subdued himself +completely, and that he was ready, without betraying a shadow of +disappointment, to take the insufficient nature which destiny had +assigned him in his companion, and share with it all of his own larger +being it was capable, not of comprehending, but of apprehending. + +He had deceived himself. The battle was not fought and won. There had +been a struggle, and what seemed to be a victory, but the +enemy--intrenched in the very citadel of life--had rallied, and would +make another desperate attempt to retrieve his defeat. + +The haste with which the young man had quitted the village was only a +proof that he felt his danger. He believed that, if he came into the +presence of Myrtle Hazard for the third time, he should be no longer +master of his feelings. Some explanation must take place between them, +and how was it possible that it should be without emotion? and in what do +all emotions shared by a young man with such a young girl as this tend to +find their last expression? + +Clement determined to stun his sensibilities by work. He would give +himself no leisure to indulge in idle dreams of what might have been. His +plans were never so carefully finished, and his studies were never so +continuous as now. But the passion still wrought within him, and, if he +drove it from his waking thoughts, haunted his sleep until he could +endure it no longer, and must give it some manifestation. He had covered +up the bust of Liberty so closely, that not an outline betrayed itself +through the heavy folds of drapery in which it was wrapped. His thoughts +recurred to his unfinished marble, as offering the one mode in which he +could find a silent outlet to the feelings and thoughts which it was +torture to keep imprisoned in his soul. The cold stone would tell them, +but without passion; and having got the image which possessed him out of +himself into a lifeless form, it seemed as if he might be delivered from +a presence which, lovely as it was, stood between him and all that made +him seem honorable and worthy to himself. + +He uncovered the bust which he had but half shaped, and struck the first +flake from the glittering marble. The toil, once begun, fascinated him +strangely, and after the day's work was done, and at every interval he +could snatch from his duties, he wrought at his secret task. + +"Clement is graver than ever," the young men said at the office. "What's +the matter, do you suppose? Turned off by the girl they say he means to +marry by and by? How pale he looks too! Must have something worrying +him: he used to look as fresh as a clove pink." + +The master with whom he studied saw that he was losing color, and looking +very much worn; and determined to find out, if he could, whether he was +not overworking himself. He soon discovered that his light was seen +burning late into the night, that he was neglecting his natural rest, and +always busy with some unknown task, not called for in his routine of duty +or legitimate study. + +"Something is wearing on you, Clement," he said. "You are killing +yourself with undertaking too much. Will you let me know what keeps you +so busy when you ought to be asleep, or taking your ease and comfort in +some way or other?" + +Nobody but himself had ever seen his marble or its model. He had now +almost finished it, laboring at it with such sleepless devotion, and he +was willing to let his master have a sight of his first effort of the +kind,--for he was not a sculptor, it must be remembered, though he had +modelled in clay, not without some success, from time to time. + +"Come with me," he said. + +The master climbed the stairs with him up to his modest chamber. A +closely shrouded bust stood on its pedestal in the light of the solitary +window. + +"That is my ideal personage," Clement said. "Wait one moment, and you +shall see how far I have caught the character of our uncrowned queen." + +The master expected, very naturally, to see the conventional young woman +with classical wreath or feather headdress, whom we have placed upon our +smallest coin, so that our children may all grow up loving Liberty. + +As Clement withdrew the drapery that covered his work, the master stared +at it in amazement. He looked at it long and earnestly, and at length +turned his eyes, a little moistened by some feeling which thus betrayed +itself, upon his scholar. + +"This is no ideal, Clement. It is the portrait of a very young but very +beautiful woman. No common feeling could have guided your hand in +shaping such a portrait from memory. This must be that friend of yours +of whom I have often heard as an amiable young person. Pardon me, for +you know that nobody cares more for you than I do,--I hope that you are +happy in all your relations with this young friend of yours. How could +one be otherwise?" + +It was hard to bear, very hard. He forced a smile. "You are partly +right," he said. "There is a resemblance, I trust, to a living person, +for I had one in my mind." + +"Did n't you tell me once, Clement, that you were attempting a bust of +Innocence? I do not see any block in your room but this. Is that done?" + +"Done with!" Clement answered; and, as he said it, the thought stung +through him that this was the very stone which was to have worn the +pleasant blandness of pretty Susan's guileless countenance. How the new +features had effaced the recollection of the others! + +In a few days more Clement had finished his bust. His hours were again +vacant to his thick-coming fancies. While he had been busy with his +marble, his hands had required his attention, and he must think closely +of every detail upon which he was at work. But at length his task was +done, and he could contemplate what he had made of it. It was a triumph +for one so little exercised in sculpture. The master had told him so, and +his own eye could not deceive him. He might never succeed in any +repetition of his effort, but this once he most certainly had succeeded. +He could not disguise from himself the source of this extraordinary good +fortune in so doubtful and difficult an attempt. Nor could he resist the +desire of contemplating the portrait bust, which--it was foolish to talk +about ideals--was not Liberty, but Myrtle Hazard. + +It was too nearly like the story of the ancient sculptor; his own work +was an over-match for its artist. Clement had made a mistake in +supposing that by giving his dream a material form he should drive it +from the possession of his mind. The image in which he had fixed his +recollection of its original served only to keep her living presence +before him. He thought of her as she clasped her arms around him, and +they were swallowed up in the rushing waters, coming so near to passing +into the unknown world together. He thought of her as he stretched her +lifeless form upon the bank, and looked for one brief moment on her +unsunned loveliness,--"a sight to dream of, not to tell." He thought of +her as his last fleeting glimpse had shown her, beautiful, not with the +blossomy prettiness that passes away with the spring sunshine, but with a +rich vitality of which noble outlines and winning expression were only +the natural accidents. And that singular impression which the sight of +him had produced upon her,--how strange! How could she but have listened +to him,--to him, who was, as it were, a second creator to her, for he had +bought her back from the gates of the unseen realm,--if he had recalled +to her the dread moments they had passed in each other's arms, with +death, not love, in all their thoughts. And if then he had told her how +her image had remained with him, how it had colored all his visions, and +mingled with all his conceptions, would not those dark eyes have melted +as they were turned upon him? Nay, how could he keep the thought away, +that she would not have been insensible to his passion, if he could have +suffered its flame to kindle in his heart? Did it not seem as if Death +had spared them for Love, and that Love should lead them together through +life's long journey to the gates of Death? + +Never! never! never! Their fates were fixed. For him, poor insect as he +was, a solitary flight by day, and a return at evening to his wingless +mate! For her--he thought he saw her doom. + +Could he give her up to the cold embraces of that passionless egotist, +who, as he perceived plainly enough, was casting his shining net all +around her? Clement read Murray Bradshaw correctly. He could not +perhaps have spread his character out in set words, as we must do for +him, for it takes a long apprenticeship to learn to describe analytically +what we know as soon as we see it; but he felt in his inner consciousness +all that we must tell for him. Fascinating, agreeable, artful, knowing, +capable of winning a woman infinitely above himself, incapable of +understanding her,--oh, if he could but touch him with the angel's spear, +and bid him take his true shape before her whom he was gradually +enveloping in the silken meshes of his subtle web! He would make a place +for her in the world,--oh yes, doubtless. He would be proud of her in +company, would dress her handsomely, and show her off in the best lights. +But from the very hour that he felt his power over her firmly +established, he would begin to remodel her after his own worldly pattern. +He would dismantle her of her womanly ideals, and give her in their place +his table of market-values. He would teach her to submit her +sensibilities to her selfish interest, and her tastes to the fashion of +the moment, no matter which world or half-world it came from. "As the +husband is, the wife is,"--he would subdue her to what he worked in. + +All this Clement saw, as in apocalyptic vision, stored up for the wife of +Murray Bradshaw, if he read him rightly, as he felt sure he did, from the +few times he had seen him. He would be rich by and by, very probably. +He looked like one of those young men who are sharp, and hard enough to +come to fortune. Then she would have to take her place in the great +social exhibition where the gilded cages are daily opened that the +animals may be seen, feeding on the sight of stereotyped toilets and the +sound of impoverished tattle. O misery of semi-provincial fashionable +life, where wealth is at its wit's end to avoid being tired of an +existence which has all the labor of keeping up appearances, without the +piquant profligacy which saves it at least from being utterly vapid! How +many fashionable women at the end of a long season would be ready to +welcome heaven itself as a relief from the desperate monotony of +dressing, dawdling, and driving! + +This could not go on so forever. Clement had placed a red curtain so as +to throw a rose-bloom on his marble, and give it an aspect which his +fancy turned to the semblance of life. He would sit and look at the +features his own hand had so faithfully wrought, until it seemed as if +the lips moved, sometimes as if they were smiling, sometimes as if they +were ready to speak to him. His companions began to whisper strange +things of him in the studio,--that his eye was getting an unnatural +light,--that he talked as if to imaginary listeners,--in short, that +there was a look as if something were going wrong with his brain, which +it might be feared would spoil his fine intelligence. It was the +undecided battle, and the enemy, as in his noblest moments he had +considered the growing passion, was getting the better of him. + +He was sitting one afternoon before the fatal bust which had smiled and +whispered away his peace, when the post-man brought him a letter. It was +from the simple girl to whom he had given his promise. We know how she +used to prattle in her harmless way about her innocent feelings, and the +trifling matters that were going on in her little village world. But now +she wrote in sadness. Something, she did not too clearly explain what, +had grieved her, and she gave free expression to her feelings. "I have +no one that loves me but you," she said; "and if you leave me I must +droop and die. Are you true to me, dearest Clement,--true as when we +promised each other that we would love while life lasted? Or have you +forgotten one who will never cease to remember that she was once your own +Susan?" + +Clement dropped the letter from his hand, and sat a long hour looking at +the exquisitely wrought features of her who had come between him and +honor and his plighted word. + +At length he arose, and, lifting the bust tenderly from its pedestal, +laid it upon the cloth with which it had been covered. He wrapped it +closely, fold upon fold, as the mother whom man condemns and God pities +wraps the child she loves before she lifts her hand against its life. +Then he took a heavy hammer and shattered his lovely idol into shapeless +fragments. The strife was over. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +A CHANGE OF PROGRAMME. + +Mr. William Murray Bradshaw was in pretty intimate relations with Miss +Cynthia Badlam. It was well understood between them that it might be of +very great advantage to both of them if he should in due time become the +accepted lover of Myrtle Hazard. So long as he could be reasonably +secure against interference, he did not wish to hurry her in making her +decision. Two things he did wish to be sure of, if possible, before +asking her the great question;--first, that she would answer it in the +affirmative; and secondly, that certain contingencies, the turning of +which was not as yet absolutely capable of being predicted, should happen +as he expected. Cynthia had the power of furthering his wishes in many +direct and indirect ways, and he felt sure of her cooperation. She had +some reason to fear his enmity if she displeased him, and he had taken +good care to make her understand that her interests would be greatly +promoted by the success of the plan which he had formed, and which was +confided to her alone. + +He kept the most careful eye on every possible source of disturbance to +this quietly maturing plan. He had no objection to have Gifted Hopkins +about Myrtle as much as she would endure to have him. The youthful bard +entertained her very innocently with his bursts of poetry, but she was in +no danger from a young person so intimately associated with the +yard-stick, the blunt scissors, and the brown-paper parcel. There was +Cyprian too, about whom he did not feel any very particular solicitude. +Myrtle had evidently found out that she was handsome and stylish and all +that, and it was not very likely she would take up with such a bashful, +humble, country youth as this. He could expect nothing beyond a possible +rectorate in the remote distance, with one of those little pony chapels +to preach in, which, if it were set up on a stout pole, would pass for a +good-sized martin-house. Cyprian might do to practise on, but there was +no danger of her looking at him in a serious way. As for that youth, +Clement Lindsay, if he had not taken himself off as he did, Murray +Bradshaw confessed to himself that he should have felt uneasy. He was +too good-looking, and too clever a young fellow to have knocking about +among fragile susceptibilities. But on reflection he saw there could be +no danger. + +"All up with him,--poor diavolo! Can't understand it--such a little +sixpenny miss--pretty enough boiled parsnip blonde, if one likes that +sort of thing--pleases some of the old boys, apparently. Look out, Mr. +L. remember Susanna and the Elders. Good! + +"Safe enough if something new doesn't turn up. Youngish. Sixteen's a +little early. Seventeen will do. Marry a girl while she's in the +gristle, and you can shape her bones for her. Splendid creature without +her trimmings. Wants training. Must learn to dance, and sing something +besides psalm-tunes." + +Mr. Bradshaw began humming the hymn, "When I can read my title clear," +adding some variations of his own. "That 's the solo for my prima +donna!" + +In the mean time Myrtle seemed to be showing some new developments. One +would have said that the instincts of the coquette, or at least of the +city belle, were coming uppermost in her nature. Her little nervous +attack passed away, and she gained strength and beauty every day. She +was becoming conscious of her gifts of fascination, and seemed to please +herself with the homage of her rustic admirers. Why was it that no one +of them had the look and bearing of that young man she had seen but a +moment the other evening? To think that he should have taken up with +such a weakling as Susan Posey! She sighed, and not so much thought as +felt how kind it would have been in Heaven to have made her such a man. +But the image of the delicate blonde stood between her and all serious +thought of Clement Lindsay. She saw the wedding in the distance, and +very foolishly thought to herself that she could not and would not go to +it. + +But Clement Lindsay was gone, and she must content herself with such +worshippers as the village afforded. Murray Bradshaw was surprised and +confounded at the easy way in which she received his compliments, and +played with his advances, after the fashion of the trained ball-room +belles, who know how to be almost caressing in manner, and yet are really +as far off from the deluded victim of their suavities as the topmost +statue of the Milan cathedral from the peasant that kneels on its floor. +He admired her all the more for this, and yet he saw that she would be a +harder prize to win than he had once thought. If he made up his mind +that he would have her, he must go armed with all implements, from the +red hackle to the harpoon. + +The change which surprised Murray Bradshaw could not fail to be noticed +by all those about her. Miss Silence had long ago come to pantomime, +rolling up of eyes, clasping of hands, making of sad mouths, and the +rest,--but left her to her own way, as already the property of that great +firm of World & Co. which drives such sharp bargains for young souls with +the better angels. Cynthia studied her for her own purposes, but had +never gained her confidence. The Irish servant saw that some change had +come over her, and thought of the great ladies she had sometimes looked +upon in the old country. They all had a kind of superstitious feeling +about Myrtle's bracelet, of which she had told them the story, but which +Kitty half believed was put in the drawer by the fairies, who brought her +ribbons and partridge feathers, and other slight adornments with which +she contrived to set off her simple costume, so as to produce those +effects which an eye for color and cunning fingers can bring out of +almost nothing. + +Gifted Hopkins was now in a sad, vacillating condition, between the two +great attractions to which he was exposed. Myrtle looked so immensely +handsome ere Sunday when he saw her going to church, not to meeting, for +she world not go, except when she knew Father Pemberton was going to be +the preacher, that the young poet was on the point of going down on his +knees to her, and telling her that his heart was hers and hers alone. +But he suddenly remembered that he had on his best trousers, and the idea +of carrying the marks of his devotion in the shape of two dusty +impressions on his most valued article of apparel turned the scale +against the demonstration. It happened the next morning, that Susan +Posey wore the most becoming ribbon she had displayed for a long time, +and Gifted was so taken with her pretty looks that he might very probably +have made the same speech to her that he had been on the point of making +to Myrtle the day before, but that he remembered her plighted affections, +and thought what he should have to say for himself when Clement Lindsay, +in a frenzy of rage and jealousy, stood before him, probably armed with +as many deadly instruments as a lawyer mentions by name in an indictment +for murder. + +Cyprian Eveleth looked very differently on the new manifestations Myrtle +was making of her tastes and inclinations. He had always felt dazzled, +as well as attracted, by her; but now there was something in her +expression and manner which made him feel still more strongly that they +were intended for different spheres of life. He could not but own that +she was born for a brilliant destiny,--that no ball-room would throw a +light from its chandeliers too strong for her,--that no circle would be +too brilliant for her to illuminate by her presence. Love does not +thrive without hope, and Cyprian was beginning to see that it was idle in +him to think of folding these wide wings of Myrtle's so that they would +be shut up in any cage he could ever offer her. He began to doubt +whether, after all, he might not find a meeker and humbler nature better +adapted to his own. And so it happened that one evening after the three +girls, Olive, Myrtle, and Bathsheba, had been together at the Parsonage, +and Cyprian, availing himself of a brother's privilege, had joined them, +he found he had been talking most of the evening with the gentle girl +whose voice had grown so soft and sweet, during her long ministry in the +sick-chamber, that it seemed to him more like music than speech. It +would not be fair to say that Myrtle was piqued to see that Cyprian was +devoting himself to Bathsheba. Her ambition was already reaching beyond +her little village circle, and she had an inward sense that Cyprian found +a form of sympathy in the minister's simple-minded daughter which he +could not ask from a young woman of her own aspirations. + +Such was the state of affairs when Master Byles Gridley was one morning +surprised by an early call from Myrtle. He had a volume of Walton's +Polyglot open before him, and was reading Job in the original, when she +entered. + +"Why, bless me, is that my young friend Miss Myrtle Hazard?" he +exclaimed. "I might call you Keren-Happuch, which is Hebrew for Child of +Beauty, and not be very far out of the way, Job's youngest daughter, my +dear. And what brings my young friend out in such good season this +morning? Nothing going wrong up at our ancient mansion, The Poplars, I +trust?" + +"I want to talk with you, dear Master Gridley," she answered. She looked +as if she did not know just how to begin. + +"Anything that interests you, Myrtle, interests me. I think you have +some project in that young head of yours, my child. Let us have it, in +all its dimensions, length, breadth, and thickness. I think I can guess, +Myrtle, that we have a little plan of some kind or other. We don't visit +Papa Job quite so early as this without some special cause,--do we, Miss +Keren-Happuch?" + +"I want to go to the city--to school," Myrtle said, with the directness +which belonged to her nature. + +"That is precisely what I want you to do myself, Miss Myrtle Hazard. I +don't like to lose you from the village, but I think we must spare you +for a while." + +"You're the best and dearest man that ever lived. What could have made +you think of such a thing for me, Mr. Gridley?" + +"Because you are ignorant, my child,--partly I want to see you fitted to +take a look at the world without feeling like a little country miss. Has +your aunt Silence promised to bear your expenses while you are in the +city? It will cost a good deal of money." + +"I have not said a word to her about it. I am sure I don't know what she +would say. But I have some money, Mr. Gridley." + +She showed him a purse with gold, telling him how she came by it. "There +is some silver besides. Will it be enough?" + +"No, no, my child, we must not meddle with that. Your aunt will let me +put it in the bank for you, I think, where it will be safe. But that +shall not make any difference. I have got a little money lying idle, +which you may just as well have the use of as not. You can pay it back +perhaps some time or other; if you did not, it would not make much +difference. I am pretty much alone in the world, and except a book now +and then--Aut liberos aut libros, as our valiant heretic has it,--you +ought to know a little Latin, Myrtle, but never mind--I have not much +occasion for money. You shall go to the best school that any of our +cities can offer, Myrtle, and you shall stay there until we agree that +you are fitted to come back to us an ornament to Oxbow Village, and to +larger places than this if you are called there. We have had some talk +about it, your aunt Silence and I, and it is all settled. Your aunt does +not feel very rich just now, or perhaps she would do more for you. She +has many pious and poor friends, and it keeps her funds low. Never mind, +my child, we will have it all arranged for you, and you shall begin the +year 1860 in Madam Delacoste's institution for young ladies. Too many +rich girls and fashionable ones there, I fear, but you must see some of +all kinds, and there are very good instructors in the school,--I know +one,--he was a college boy with me,--and you will find pleasant and good +companions there, so he tells me; only don't be in a hurry to choose your +friends, for the least desirable young persons are very apt to cluster +about a new-comer." + +Myrtle was bewildered with the suddenness of the prospect thus held out +to her. It is a wonder that she did not bestow an embrace upon the +worthy old master. Perhaps she had too much tact. It is a pretty way +enough of telling one that he belongs to a past generation, but it does +tell him that not over-pleasing fact. Like the title of Emeritus +Professor, it is a tribute to be accepted, hardly to be longed for. + +When the curtain rises again, it will show Miss Hazard in a new +character, and surrounded by a new world. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +MYRTLE HAZARD AT THE CITY SCHOOL. + +Mr. Bradshaw was obliged to leave town for a week or two on business +connected with the great land-claim. On his return, feeling in pretty +good spirits, as the prospects looked favorable, he went to make a call +at The Poplars. He asked first for Miss Hazard. + +"Bliss your soul, Mr. Bridshaw," answered Mistress Kitty Fagan, "she's +been gahn nigh a wake. It's to the city, to the big school, they've sint +her." + +This announcement seemed to make a deep impression on Murray Bradshaw, +for his feelings found utterance in one of the most energetic forms of +language to which ears polite or impolite are accustomed. He next asked +for Miss Silence, who soon presented herself. Mr. Bradshaw asked, in a +rather excited way, "Is it possible, Miss Withers, that your niece has +quitted you to go to a city school?" + +Miss Silence answered, with her chief--mourner expression, and her +death-chamber tone: "Yes, she has left us for a season. I trust it may +not be her destruction. I had hoped in former years that she would +become a missionary, but I have given up all expectation of that now. +Two whole years, from the age of four to that of six, I had prevailed +upon her to give up sugar,--the money so saved to go to a graduate of our +institution--who was afterwards----he labored among the +cannibal-islanders. I thought she seemed to take pleasure in this small +act of self-denial, but I have since suspected that Kitty gave her secret +lumps. It was by Mr. Gridley's advice that she went, and by his +pecuniary assistance. What could I do? She was bent on going, and I was +afraid she would have fits, or do something dreadful, if I did not let +her have her way. I am afraid she will come back to us spoiled. She has +seemed so fond of dress lately, and once she spoke of learning--yes, Mr. +Bradshaw, of learning to--dance! I wept when I heard of it. Yes, I +wept." + +That was such a tremendous thing to think of, and especially to speak of +in Mr. Bradshaw's presence, for the most pathetic image in the world to +many women is that of themselves in tears,--that it brought a return of +the same overflow, which served as a substitute for conversation until +Miss Badlam entered the apartment. + +Miss Cynthia followed the same general course of remark. They could not +help Myrtle's going if they tried. She had always maintained that, if +they had only once broke her will when she was little, they would have +kept the upper hand of her; but her will never was broke. They came +pretty near it once, but the child would n't give in. + +Miss Cynthia went to the door with Mr. Bradshaw, and the conversation +immediately became short and informal. + +"Demonish pretty business! All up for a year or more,--hey?" + +Don't blame me,--I couldn't stop her." + +"Give me her address,--I 'll write to her. Any young men teach in the +school?" + +"Can't tell you. She'll write to Olive and Bathsheba, and I'll find out +all about it." + +Murray Bradshaw went home and wrote a long letter to Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, +of 24 Carat Place, containing many interesting remarks and inquiries, +some of the latter relating to Madam Delacoste's institution for the +education of young ladies. + +While this was going on at Oxbow Village, Myrtle was establishing herself +at the rather fashionable school to which Mr. Gridley had recommended +her. Mrs. or Madam Delacoste's boarding-school had a name which on the +whole it deserved pretty well. She had some very good instructors for +girls who wished to get up useful knowledge in case they might marry +professors or ministers. They had a chance to learn music, dancing, +drawing, and the way of behaving in company. There was a chance, too, to +pick up available acquaintances, for many rich people sent their +daughters to the school, and it was something to have been bred in their +company. + +There was the usual division of the scholars into a first and second set, +according to the social position, mainly depending upon the fortune, of +the families to which they belonged. The wholesale dealer's daughter +very naturally considered herself as belonging to a different order from +the retail dealer's daughter. The keeper of a great hotel and the editor +of a widely circulated newspaper were considered as ranking with the +wholesale dealers, and their daughters belonged also to the untitled +nobility which has the dollar for its armorial bearing. The second set +had most of the good scholars, and some of the prettiest girls; but +nobody knew anything about their families, who lived off the great +streets and avenues, or vegetated in country towns. + +Myrtle Hazard's advent made something like a sensation. They did not +know exactly what to make of her. Hazard? Hazard? No great firm of +that name. No leading hotel kept by any Hazard, was there? No newspaper +of note edited by anybody called Hazard, was there? Came from where? +Oxbow Village. Oh, rural district. Yes.--Still they could not help +owning that she was handsome, a concession which of course had to be made +with reservations. + +"Don't you think she's vuiry good-lookin'?" said a Boston girl to a New +York girl. "I think she's real pooty." + +"I dew, indeed. I didn't think she was haaf so handsome the feeest time +I saw her," answered the New York girl. + +"What a pity she had n't been bawn in Bawston!" + +"Yes, and moved very young to Ne Yock!" + +"And married a sarsaparilla man, and lived in Fiff Avenoo, and moved in +the fust society." + +"Better dew that than be strong-mainded, and dew your own cook'n, and +live in your own kitch'n." + +"Don't forgit to send your card when you are Mrs. Old Dr. Jacob!" + +"Indeed I shaan't. What's the name of the alley, and which bell?" The +New York girl took out a memorandum-book as if to put it down. + +"Had n't you better let me write it for you, dear?" said the Boston girl. +"It is as well to have it legible, you know." + +"Take it," said the New York girl. "There 's tew York shill'ns in it +when I hand it to you." + +"Your whole quarter's allowance, I bullieve,--ain't it?" said the Boston +girl. + +"Elegant manners, correct deportment, and propriety of language will be +strictly attended to in this institution. The most correct standards of +pronunciation will be inculcated by precept and example. It will be the +special aim of the teachers to educate their pupils out of all +provincialisms, so that they may be recognized as well-bred English +scholars wherever the language is spoken in its purity."--Extract from +the Prospectus of Madam Delacoste's Boarding-school. + +Myrtle Hazard was a puzzle to all the girls. Striking, they all agreed, +but then the criticisms began. Many of the girls chattered a little +broken French, and one of them, Miss Euphrosyne De Lacy, had been half +educated in Paris, so that she had all the phrases which are to social +operators what his cutting instruments are to the surgeon. Her face she +allowed was handsome; but her style, according to this oracle, was a +little bourgeoise, and her air not exactly comme il faut. More +specifically, she was guilty of contours fortement prononces,--corsage de +paysanne,--quelque chose de sauvage, etc., etc. This girl prided herself +on her figure. + +Miss Bella Pool, (La Belle Poule as the demi-Parisian girl had christened +her,) the beauty of the school, did not think so much of Myrtle's face, +but considered her figure as better than the De Lacy girl's. + +The two sets, first and second, fought over her as the Greeks and Trojans +over a dead hero, or the Yale College societies over a live freshman. +She was nobody by her connections, it is true, so far as they could find +out, but then, on the other hand, she had the walk of a queen, and she +looked as if a few stylish dresses and a season or two would make her a +belle of the first water. She had that air of indifference to their +little looks and whispered comments which is surest to disarm all the +critics of a small tattling community. On the other hand, she came to +this school to learn, and not to play; and the modest and more plainly +dressed girls, whose fathers did not sell by the cargo, or keep +victualling establishments for some hundreds of people, considered her as +rather in sympathy with them than with the daughters of the +rough-and-tumble millionnaires who were grappling and rolling over each +other in the golden dust of the great city markets. + +She did not mean to belong exclusively to either of their sets. She came +with that sense of manifold deficiencies, and eager ambition to supply +them, which carries any learner upward, as if on wings, over the heads of +the mechanical plodders and the indifferent routinists. She learned, +therefore, in a way to surprise the experienced instructors. Her +somewhat rude sketching soon began to show something of the artist's +touch. Her voice, which had only been taught to warble the simplest +melodies, after a little training began to show its force and sweetness +and flexibility in the airs that enchant drawing-room audiences. She +caught with great readiness the manner of the easiest girls, +unconsciously, for she inherited old social instincts which became nature +with the briefest exercise. Not much license of dress was allowed in the +educational establishment of Madam Delacoste, but every girl had an +opportunity to show her taste within the conventional limits prescribed. +And Myrtle soon began to challenge remark by a certain air she contrived +to give her dresses, and the skill with which she blended their colors. + +"Tell you what, girls," said Miss Berengaria Topping, female +representative of the great dynasty that ruled over the world-famous +Planet Hotel, "she's got style, lots of it. I call her perfectly +splendid, when she's got up in her swell clothes. That oriole's wing she +wears in her bonnet makes her look gorgeous, she'll be a stunning +Pocahontas for the next tableau." + +Miss Rose Bugbee, whose family opulence grew out of the only merchantable +article a Hebrew is never known to seek profit from, thought she could be +made presentable in the first circles if taken in hand in good season. +So it came about that, before many weeks had passed over her as a scholar +in the great educational establishment, she might be considered as on the +whole the most popular girl in the whole bevy of them. The studious ones +admired her for her facility of learning, and her extraordinary appetite +for every form of instruction, and the showy girls, who were only +enduring school as the purgatory that opened into the celestial world of +society, recognized in her a very handsome young person, who would be +like to make a sensation sooner or later. + +There were, however, it must be confessed, a few who considered +themselves the thickest of the cream of the school-girls, who submitted +her to a more trying ordeal than any she had yet passed. + +"How many horses does your papa keep?" asked Miss Florence Smythe. "We +keep nine, and a pony for Edgar." + +Myrtle had to explain that she had no papa, and that they did not keep +any horses. Thereupon Miss Florence Smythe lost her desire to form an +acquaintance, and wrote home to her mother (who was an ex-bonnet-maker) +that the school was getting common, she was afraid,--they were letting in +persons one knew nothing about. + +Miss Clare Browne had a similar curiosity about the amount of plate used +in the household from which Myrtle came. Her father had just bought a +complete silver service. Myrtle had to own that they used a good deal of +china at her own home,--old china, which had been a hundred years in the +family, some of it. + +"A hundred years old!" exclaimed Miss Clare Browne. "What queer-looking +stuff it must be! Why, everything in our house is just as new and +bright! Papaa had all our pictures painted on purpose for us. Have you +got any handsome pictures in your house?" + +"We have a good many portraits of members of the family," she said, "some +of them older than the china." + +"How very very odd! What do the dear old things look like?" + +"One was a great beauty in her time." + +"How jolly!" + +"Another was a young woman who was put to death for her religion,--burned +to ashes at the stake in Queen Mary's time." + +"How very very wicked! It was n't nice a bit, was it? Ain't you telling +me stories? Was that a hundred years ago?--But you 've got some new +pictures and things, have n't you? Who furnished your parlors?" + +"My great-grandfather, or his father, I believe." + +"Stuff and nonsense. I don't believe it. What color are your +carriage-horses?" + +"Our woman, Kitty Fagan, told somebody once we didn't keep any horse but +a cow." + +"Not keep any horses! Do for pity's sake let me look at your feet." + +Myrtle put out as neat a little foot as a shoemaker ever fitted with a +pair of number two. What she would have been tempted to do with it, if +she had been a boy, we will not stop to guess. After all, the questions +amused her quite as much as the answers instructed Miss Clara Browne. Of +that young lady's ancestral claims to distinction there is no need of +discoursing. Her "papaa" commonly said sir in talking with a gentleman, +and her "mammaa" would once in a while forget, and go down the area steps +instead of entering at the proper door; but they lived behind a brown +stone front, which veneers everybody's antecedents with a facing of +respectability. + +Miss Clara Browne wrote home to her mother in the same terms as Miss +Florence Smythe,--that the school was getting dreadful common, and they +were letting in very queer folks. + +Still another trial awaited Myrtle, and one which not one girl in a +thousand would have been so unprepared to meet. She knew absolutely +nothing of certain things with which the vast majority of young persons +were quite familiar. + +There were literary young ladies, who had read everything of Dickens and +Thackeray, and something at least of Sir Walter, and occasionally, +perhaps, a French novel, which they had better have let alone. One of +the talking young ladies of this set began upon Myrtle one day. + +"Oh, is n't 'Pickwick' nice?" she asked. + +"I don't know," Myrtle replied; "I never tasted any." + +The girl stared at her as if she were a crazy creature. "Tasted any! +Why, I mean the 'Pickwick Papers,' Dickens's story. Don't you think +they're nice." + +Poor Myrtle had to confess that she had never read them, and did n't know +anything about them. + +"What! did you never read any novels?" said the young lady. + +"Oh, to be sure I have," said Myrtle, blushing as she thought of the +great trunk and its contents. "I have read 'Caleb Williams,' and +'Evelina,' and 'Tristram Shandy'" (naughty girl!), "and the 'Castle of +Otranto,' and the 'Mysteries of Udolpho,' and the 'Vicar of Wakefield,' +and 'Don Quixote'--" + +The young lady burst out laughing. "Stop! stop! for mercy's sake," she +cried. "You must be somebody that's been dead and buried and come back +to life again. Why you're Rip Van Winkle in a petticoat! You ought to +powder your hair and wear patches." + +"We've got the oddest girl here," this young lady wrote home. "She has +n't read any book that is n't a thousand years old. One of the girls +says she wears a trilobite for a breastpin; some horrid old stone, I +believe that is, that was a bug ever so long ago. Her name, she says, is +Myrtle Hazard, but I call her Rip Van Myrtle." + +Notwithstanding the quiet life which these young girls were compelled to +lead, they did once in a while have their gatherings, at which a few +young gentlemen were admitted. One of these took place about a month +after Myrtle had joined the school. The girls were all in their best, +and by and by they were to have a tableau. Myrtle came out in all her +force. She dressed herself as nearly as she dared like the handsome +woman of the past generation whom she resembled. The very spirit of the +dead beauty seemed to animate every feature and every movement of the +young girl whose position in the school was assured from that moment. +She had a good solid foundation to build upon in the jealousy of two or +three of the leading girls of the style of pretensions illustrated by +some of their talk which has been given. There is no possible success +without some opposition as a fulcrum: force is always aggressive, and +crowds something or other, if it does not hit or trample on it. + +The cruelest cut of all was the remark attributed to Mr. Livingston +Jerkins, who was what the opposition girls just referred to called the +great "swell" among the privileged young gentlemen who were present at +the gathering. + +"Rip Van Myrtle, you call that handsome girl, do you, Miss Clara? By +Jove, she's the stylishest of the whole lot, to say nothing of being a +first-class beauty. Of course you know I except one, Miss Clara. If a +girl can go to sleep and wake up after twenty years looking like that, I +know a good many who had better begin their nap without waiting. If I +were Florence Smythe, I'd try it, and begin now,--eh, Clara?" + +Miss Browne felt the praise of Myrtle to be slightly alleviated by the +depreciation of Miss Smythe, who had long been a rival of her own. A +little later in the evening Miss Smythe enjoyed almost precisely the same +sensation, produced in a very economical way by Mr. Livingston Jenkins's +repeating pretty nearly the same sentiments to her, only with a change in +the arrangement of the proper names. The two young ladies were left +feeling comparatively comfortable with regard to each other, each +intending to repeat Mr. Livingston Jenkins's remark about her friend to +such of her other friends as enjoyed clever sayings, but not at all +comfortable with reference to Myrtle Hazard, who was evidently considered +by the leading "swell" of their circle as the most noticeable personage +of the assembly. The individual exception in each case did very well as +a matter of politeness, but they knew well enough what he meant. + +It seemed to Myrtle Hazard, that evening, that she felt the bracelet on +her wrist glow with a strange, unaccustomed warmth. It was as if it had +just been unclasped from the arm of a yohng woman full of red blood and +tingling all over with swift nerve-currents. Life had never looked to +her as it did that evening. It was the swan's first breasting the +water,--bred on the desert sand, with vague dreams of lake and river, and +strange longings as the mirage came and dissolved, and at length afloat +upon the sparkling wave. She felt as if she had for the first time found +her destiny. It was to please, and so to command, to rule with gentle +sway in virtue of the royal gift of beauty,--to enchant with the +commonest exercise of speech, through the rare quality of a voice which +could not help being always gracious and winning, of a manner which came +to her as an inheritance of which she had just found the title. She read +in the eyes of all that she was more than any other the centre of +admiration. Blame her who may, the world was a very splendid vision as +it opened before her eyes in its long vista of pleasures and of triumphs. +How different the light of these bright saloons from the glimmer of the +dim chamber at The Poplars! Silence Withers was at that very moment +looking at the portraits of Anne Holyoake and of Judith Pride. "The old +picture seems to me to be fading faster than ever," she was thinking. +But when she held her lamp before the other, it seemed to her that the +picture never was so fresh before, and that the proud smile upon its lips +was more full of conscious triumph than she remembered it. A reflex, +doubtless, of her own thoughts, for she believed that the martyr was +weeping even in heaven over her lost descendant, and that the beauty, +changed to the nature of the malignant spiritual company with which she +had long consorted in the under-world, was pleasing herself with the +thought that Myrtle was in due time to bring her news from the Satanic +province overhead, where she herself had so long indulged in the +profligacy of embonpoint and loveliness. + +The evening at the school-party was to terminate with some tableaux. The +girl who had suggested that Myrtle would look "stunning" or "gorgeous" or +"jolly," or whatever the expression was, as Pocahontas, was not far out +of the way, and it was so evident to the managing heads that she would +make a fine appearance in that character, that the "Rescue of Captain +John Smith" was specially got up to show her off. + +Myrtle had sufficient reason to believe that there was a hint of Indian +blood in her veins. It was one of those family legends which some of the +members are a little proud of, and others are willing to leave +uninvestigated. But with Myrtle it was a fixed belief that she felt +perfectly distinct currents of her ancestral blood at intervals, and she +had sometimes thought there were instincts and vague recollections which +must have come from the old warriors and hunters and their dusky brides. +The Indians who visited the neighborhood recognized something of their +own race in her dark eyes, as the reader may remember they told the +persons who were searching after her. It had almost frightened her +sometimes to find how like a wild creature she felt when alone in the +woods. Her senses had much of that delicacy for which the red people are +noted, and she often thought she could follow the trail of an enemy, if +she wished to track one through the forest, as unerringly as if she were +a Pequot or a Mohegan. + +It was a strange feeling that came over Myrtle, as they dressed her for +the part she was to take. Had she never worn that painted robe before? +Was it the first time that these strings of wampum had ever rattled upon +her neck and arms? And could it be that the plume of eagle's feathers +with which they crowned her dark, fast-lengthening locks had never +shadowed her forehead until now? She felt herself carried back into the +dim ages when the wilderness was yet untrodden save by the feet of its +native lords. Think of her wild fancy as we may, she felt as if that +dusky woman of her midnight vision on the river were breathing for one +hour through her lips. If this belief had lasted, it is plain enough +where it would have carried her. But it came into her imagination and +vivifying consciousness with the putting on of her unwonted costume, and +might well leave her when she put it off. It is not for us, who tell +only what happened, to solve these mysteries of the seeming admission of +unhoused souls into the fleshly tenements belonging to air-breathing +personalities. A very little more, and from that evening forward the +question would have been treated in full in all the works on medical +jurisprudence published throughout the limits of Christendom. The story +must be told or we should not be honest with the reader. + +TABLEAU 1. Captain John Smith (Miss Euphrosyne de Lacy) was to be +represented prostrate and bound, ready for execution; Powhatan (Miss +Florence Smythe) sitting upon a log; savages with clubs (Misses Clara +Browne, A. Van Boodle, E. Van Boodle, Heister, Booster, etc., etc.) +standing around; Pocahontas holding the knife in her hand, ready to cut +the cords with which Captain John Smith is bound.--Curtain. + +TABLEAU 2. Captain John Smith released and kneeling before Pocahontas, +whose hand is extended in the act of raising him and presenting him to +her father. Savages in various attitudes of surprise. Clubs fallen from +their hands. Strontian flame to be kindled.--Curtain. + +This was a portion of the programme for the evening, as arranged behind +the scenes. The first part went off with wonderful eclat, and at its +close there were loud cries for Pocahontas. She appeared for a moment. +Bouquets were flung to her; and a wreath, which one of the young ladies +had expected for herself in another part, was tossed upon the stage, and +laid at her feet. The curtain fell. + +"Put the wreath on her for the next tableau," some of them whispered, +just as the curtain was going to rise, and one of the girls hastened to +place it upon her head. + +The disappointed young lady could not endure it, and, in a spasm of +jealous passion, sprang at Myrtle, snatched it from her head, and +trampled it under her feet at the very instant the curtain was rising. +With a cry which some said had the blood-chilling tone of an Indian's +battle-shriek, Myrtle caught the knife up, and raised her arm against the +girl who had thus rudely assailed her. The girl sank to the ground, +covering her eyes in her terror. Myrtle, with her arm still lifted, and +the blade glistening in her hand, stood over her, rigid as if she had +been suddenly changed to stone. Many of those looking on thought all +this was a part of the show, and were thrilled with the wonderful acting. +Before those immediately around her had had time to recover from the +palsy of their fright Myrtle had flung the knife away from her, and was +kneeling, her head bowed and her hands crossed upon her breast. The +audience went into a rapture of applause as the curtain came suddenly +down; but Myrtle had forgotten all but the dread peril she had just +passed, and was thanking God that his angel--her own protecting spirit, +as it seemed to her had stayed the arm which a passion such as her nature +had never known, such as she believed was alien to her truest self, had +lifted with deadliest purpose. She alone knew how extreme the danger had +been. "She meant to scare her,--that 's all," they said. But Myrtle tore +the eagle's feathers from her hair, and stripped off her colored beads, +and threw off her painted robe. The metempsychosis was far too real for +her to let her wear the semblance of the savage from whom, as she +believed, had come the lawless impulse at the thought of which her soul +recoiled in horror. + +"Pocahontas has got a horrid headache," the managing young ladies gave it +out, "and can't come to time for the last tableau." So this all passed +over, not only without loss of credit to Myrtle, but with no small +addition to her local fame,--for it must have been acting; "and was n't +it stunning to see her with that knife, looking as if she was going to +stab Bells, or to scalp her, or something?" + +As Master Gridley had predicted, and as is the case commonly with +new-comers at colleges and schools, Myrtle had come first in contact with +those who were least agreeable to meet. The low-bred youth who amuse +themselves with scurvy tricks on freshmen, and the vulgar girls who try +to show off their gentility to those whom they think less important than +themselves, are exceptions in every institution; but they make themselves +odiously prominent before the quiet and modest young people have had time +to gain the new scholar's confidence. Myrtle found friends in due time, +some of them daughters of rich people, some poor girls, who came with the +same sincerity of purpose as herself. But not one was her match in the +facility of acquiring knowledge. Not one promised to make such a mark in +society, if she found an opening into its loftier circles. She was by no +means ignorant of her natural gifts, and she cultivated them with the +ambition which would not let her rest. + +During her stay at the great school, she made but one visit to Oxbow +Village. She did not try to startle the good people with her +accomplishments, but they were surprised at the change which had taken +place in her. Her dress was hardly more showy, for she was but a +school-girl, but it fitted her more gracefully. She had gained a +softness of expression, and an ease in conversation, which produced their +effect on all with whom she came in contact. Her aunt's voice lost +something of its plaintiveness in talking with her. Miss Cynthia +listened with involuntary interest to her stories of school and +school-mates. Master Byles Gridley accepted her as the great success of +his life, and determined to make her his chief heiress, if there was any +occasion for so doing. Cyprian told Bathsheba that Myrtle must come to +be a great lady. Gifted Hopkins confessed to Susan Posey that he was +afraid of her, since she had been to the great city school. She knew too +much and looked too much like a queen, for a village boy to talk with. + +Mr. William Murray Bradshaw tried all his fascinations upon her, but she +parried compliments so well, and put off all his nearer advances so +dexterously, that he could not advance beyond the region of florid +courtesy, and never got a chance, if so disposed, to risk a question +which he would not ask rashly, believing that, if Myrtle once said No, +there would be little chance of her ever saying Yes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +MUSTERING OF FORCES. + +Not long after the tableau performance had made Myrtle Hazard's name +famous in the school and among the friends of the scholars, she received +the very flattering attention of a call from Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, of 24 +Carat Place. This was in consequence of a suggestion from Mr. Livingston +Jenkins, a particular friend of the family. + +"They've got a demonish splendid school-girl over there," he said to that +lady, "made the stunningest looking Pocahontas at the show there the +other day. Demonish plucky looking filly as ever you saw. Had a row with +another girl,--gave the war-whoop, and went at her with a knife. +Festive,--hey? Say she only meant to scare her,--looked as if she meant +to stick her, anyhow. Splendid style. Why can't you go over to the shop +and make 'em trot her out?" + +The lady promised Mr. Livingston Jenkins that she certainly would, just +as soon as she could find a moment's leisure,--which, as she had nothing +in the world to do, was not likely to be very soon. Myrtle in the mean +time was busy with her studies, little dreaming what an extraordinary +honor was awaiting her. + +That rare accident in the lives of people who have nothing to do, a +leisure morning, did at last occur. An elegant carriage, with a coachman +in a wonderful cape, seated on a box lofty as a throne, and wearing a +hat-band as brilliant as a coronet, stopped at the portal of Madam +Delacoste's establishment. A card was sent in bearing the open sesame +of Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, the great lady of 24 Carat Place. Miss Myrtle +Hazard was summoned as a matter of course, and the fashionable woman and +the young girl sat half an hour together in lively conversation. + +Myrtle was fascinated by her visitor, who had that flattering manner +which, to those not experienced in the world's ways, seems to imply +unfathomable depths of disinterested devotion. Then it was so delightful +to look upon a perfectly appointed woman,--one who was as artistically +composed as a poem or an opera,--in whose costume a kind of various +rhythm undulated in one fluent harmony, from the spray that nodded on her +bonnet to the rosette that blossomed on her sandal. As for the lady, she +was captivated with Myrtle. There is nothing that your fashionable +woman, who has ground and polished her own spark of life into as many and +as glittering social facets as it will bear, has a greater passion for +than a large rough diamond, which knows nothing of the sea of light it +imprisons, and which it will be her pride to have cut into a brilliant +under her own eye, and to show the world for its admiration and her own +reflected glory. Mrs. Clymer Ketchum had taken the entire inventory of +Myrtle's natural endowments before the interview was over. She had no +marriageable children, and she was thinking what a killing bait Myrtle +would be at one of her stylish parties. + +She soon got another letter from Mr. William Murray Bradshaw, which +explained the interest he had taken in Madam Delacoste's school,--all +which she knew pretty nearly beforehand, for she had found out a good +part of Myrtle's history in the half-hour they had spent in company. + +"I had a particular reason for my inquiries about the school," he wrote. +"There is a young girl there I take an interest in. She is handsome and +interesting; and--though it is a shame to mention such a thing has +possibilities in the way of fortune not to be undervalued. Why can't you +make her acquaintance and be civil to her? A country girl, but fine old +stock, and will make a figure some time or other, I tell you. Myrtle +Hazard,--that's her name. A mere schoolgirl. Don't be malicious and +badger me about her, but be polite to her. Some of these country girls +have got 'blue blood' in them, let me tell you, and show it plain +enough." + +("In huckleberry season!") said Mrs. Ciymer Ketchum, in a +parenthesis,--and went on reading. + +"Don't think I'm one of your love-in-a-cottage sort, to have my head +turned by a village beauty. I've got a career before me, Mrs. K., and I +know it. But this is one of my pets, and I want you to keep an eye on +her. Perhaps when she leaves school you wouldn't mind asking her to come +and stay with you a little while. Possibly I may come and see how she is +getting on if you do,--won't that tempt you, Mrs. C. K.?" + +Mrs. Clymer Ketchum wrote back to her relative how she had already made +the young lady's acquaintance. + +"Livingston Jerkins (you remember him) picked her out of the whole lot of +girls as the 'prettiest filly in the stable.' That's his horrid way of +talking. But your young milkmaid is really charming, and will come into +form like a Derby three-year-old. There, now, I've caught that odious +creature's horse-talk, myself. You're dead in love with this girl, +Murray, you know you are. + +"After all, I don't know but you're right. You would make a good country +lawyer enough, I don't doubt. I used to think you had your ambitions, +but never mind. If you choose to risk yourself on 'possibilities,' it is +not my affair, and she's a beauty, there's no mistake about that. + +"There are some desirable partis at the school with your dulcinea. There +'s Rose Bugbee. That last name is a good one to be married from. Rose +is a nice girl,--there are only two of them. The estate will cut up like +one of the animals it was made out of, you know,--the sandwich-quadruped. +Then there 's Berengaria. Old Topping owns the Planet Hotel among other +things,--so big, they say, there's always a bell ringing from somebody's +room day and night the year round. Only child--unit and six +ciphers carries diamonds loose in her pocket--that's the story +--good-looking--lively--a little slangy called Livingston Jerkins +'Living Jingo' to his face one day. I want you to see my lot before you +do anything serious. You owe something to the family, Mr. William Murray +Bradshaw! But you must suit yourself, after all: if you are contented +with a humble position in life, it is nobody's business that I know of. +Only I know what life is, Murray B. Getting married is jumping +overboard, any way you look at it, and if you must save some woman from +drowning an old maid, try to find one with a cork jacket, or she 'll +carry you down with her." + +Murray Bradshaw was calculating enough, but he shook his head over this +letter. It was too demonish cold-blooded for him, he said to himself. +(Men cannot pardon women for saying aloud what they do not hesitate to +think in silence themselves.) Never mind,--he must have Mrs. Clymer +Ketchum's house and influence for his own purposes. Myrtle Hazard must +become her guest, and then if circumstances were favorable, he was +certain obtaining her aid in his project. + +The opportunity to invite Myrtle to the great mansion presented itself +unexpectedly. Early in the spring of 1861 there were some cases of +sickness in Madam Delacoste's establishment, which led to closing the +school for a while. Mrs. Clymer Ketchum took advantage of the dispersion +of the scholars to ask Myrtle to come and spend some weeks with her. +There were reasons why this was more agreeable to the young girl than +returning to Oxbow Village, and she very gladly accepted the invitation. + +It was very remarkable that a man living as Master Byles Gridley had +lived for so long a time should all at once display such liberality as he +showed to a young woman who had no claim upon him, except that he had +rescued her from the consequences of her own imprudence and warned her +against impending dangers. Perhaps he cared more for her than if the +obligation had been the other way,--students of human nature say it is +commonly so. At any rate, either he had ampler resources than it was +commonly supposed, or he was imprudently giving way to his generous +impulses, or he thought he was making advances which would in due time be +returned to him. Whatever the reason was, he furnished her with means, +not only for her necessary expenses, but sufficient to afford her many of +the elegances which she would be like to want in the fashionable society +with which she was for a short time to mingle. + +Mrs. Clymer Ketchum was so well pleased with the young lady she was +entertaining, that she thought it worth while to give a party while +Myrtle was staying with her. She had her jealousies and rivalries, as +women of the world will, sometimes, and these may have had their share in +leading her to take the trouble a large party involved. She was tired of +the airs of Mrs. Pinnikle, who was of the great Apex family, and her +terribly accomplished daughter Rhadamartha, and wanted to crush the young +lady, and jaundice her mother, with a girl twice as brilliant and ten +times handsomer. She was very willing, also, to take the nonsense out of +the Capsheaf girls, who thought themselves the most stylish personages of +their city world, and would bite their lips well to see themselves +distanced by a country miss. + +In the mean time circumstances were promising to bring into Myrtle's +neighborhood several of her old friends and admirers. Mrs. Clymer +Ketchum had written to Murray Bradshaw that she had asked his pretty +milkmaid to come and stay awhile with her, but he had been away on +business, and only arrived in the city a day or two before the party. But +other young fellows had found out the attractions of the girl who was +"hanging out at the Clymer Ketchum concern," and callers were plenty, +reducing tete-a-tetes in a corresponding ratio. He did get one +opportunity, however, and used it well. They had so many things to talk +about in common, that she could not help finding him good company. She +might well be pleased, for he was an adept in the curious art of being +agreeable, as other people are in chess or billiards, and had made a +special study of her tastes, as a physician studies a patient's +constitution. What he wanted was to get her thoroughly interested in +himself, and to maintain her in a receptive condition until such time as +he should be ready for a final move. Any day might furnish the decisive +motive; in the mean time he wished only to hold her as against all +others. + +It was well for her, perhaps, that others had flattered her into a +certain consciousness of her own value. She felt her veins full of the +same rich blood as that which had flushed the cheeks of handsome Judith +in the long summer of her triumph. Whether it was vanity, or pride, or +only the instinctive sense of inherited force and attraction, it was the +best of defences. The golden bracelet on her wrist seemed to have +brought as much protection with it as if it had been a shield over her +heart. + +But far away in Oxbow Village other events were in preparation. The +"fugitive pieces" of Mr. Gifted Hopkins had now reached a number so +considerable, that, if collected and printed in large type, with plenty +of what the unpleasant printers call "fat,"--meaning thereby blank +spaces,--upon a good, substantial, not to say thick paper, they might +perhaps make a volume which would have substance enough to bear the +title, printed lengthwise along the back, "Hopkins's Poems." Such a +volume that author had in contemplation. It was to be the literary event +of the year 1861. + +He could not mature such a project, one which he had been for some time +contemplating, without consulting Mr. Byles Gridley, who, though he had +not unfrequently repressed the young poet's too ardent ambition, had yet +always been kind and helpful. + +Mr. Gridley was seated in his large arm-chair, indulging himself in the +perusal of a page or two of his own work before repeatedly referred to. +His eye was glistening, for it had dust rested on the following passage: + +"There is infinite pathos in unsuccessful authorship. The book that +perishes unread is the deaf mute of literature. The great asylum of +Oblivion is full of such, making inaudible signs to each other in leaky +garrets and unattainable dusty upper shelves." + +He shut the book, for the page grew a little dim as he finished this +elegiac sentence, and sighed to think how much more keenly he felt its +truth than when it was written,--than on that memorable morning when he +saw the advertisement in all the papers, "This day published, 'Thoughts +on the Universe.' By Byles Gridley, A. M." + +At that moment he heard a knock at his door. He closed his eyelids +forcibly for ten seconds, opened them, and said cheerfully, "Come in!" + +Gifted Hopkins entered. He had a collection of manuscripts in his hands +which it seemed to him would fill a vast number of pages. He did not +know that manuscript is to type what fresh dandelions are to the dish of +greens that comes to table, of which last Nurse Byloe, who considered +them very wholesome spring grazing for her patients, used to say that +they "biled down dreadful." + +"I have brought the autographs of my poems, Master Gridley, to consult +you about making arrangements for publication. They have been so well +received by the public and the leading critics of this part of the State, +that I think of having them printed in a volume. I am going to the city +for that purpose. My mother has given her consent. I wish to ask you +several business questions. Shall I part with the copyright for a +downright sum of money, which I understand some prefer doing, or publish +on shares, or take a percentage on the sales? These, I believe, are the +different ways taken by authors." + +Mr. Gridley was altogether too considerate to reply with the words which +would most naturally have come to his lips. He waited as if he were +gravely pondering the important questions just put to him, all the while +looking at Gifted with a tenderness which no one who had not buried one +of his soul's children could have felt for a young author trying to get +clothing for his new-born intellectual offspring. + +"I think," he said presently, "you had better talk with an intelligent +and liberal publisher, and be guided by his advice. I can put you in +correspondence with such a person, and you had better trust him than me a +great deal. Why don't you send your manuscript by mail?" + +"What, Mr. Gridley? Trust my poems, some of which are unpublished, to +the post-office? No, sir, I could never make up my mind to such a risk. +I mean to go to the city myself, and read them to some of the leading +publishers. I don't want to pledge myself to any one of them. I should +like to set them bidding against each other for the copyright, if I sell +it at all." + +Mr. Gridley gazed upon the innocent youth with a sweet wonder in his eyes +that made him look like an angel, a little damaged in the features by +time, but full of celestial feelings. + +"It will cost you something to make this trip, Gifted. Have you the +means to pay for your journey and your stay at a city hotel?" + +Gifted blushed. "My mother has laid by a small sum for me," he said. +"She knows some of my poems by heart, and she wants to see them all in +print." + +Master Gridley closed his eyes very firmly again, as if thinking, and +opened them as soon as the foolish film had left them. He had read many +a page of "Thoughts on the Universe" to his own old mother, long, long +years ago, and she had often listened with tears of modest pride that +Heaven had favored her with a son so full of genius. + +"I 'll tell you what, Gifted," he said. "I have been thinking for a good +while that I would make a visit to the city, and if you have made up your +mind to try what you can do with the publishers, I will take you with me +as a companion. It will be a saving to you and your good mother, for I +shall bear the expenses of the expedition." + +Gifted Hopkins came very near going down on his knees. He was so +overcome with gratitude that it seemed as if his very coattails wagged +with his emotion. + +"Take it quietly," said Master Gridley. "Don't make a fool of yourself. +Tell your mother to have some clean shirts and things ready for you, and +we will be off day after to-morrow morning." + +Gifted hastened to impart the joyful news to his mother, and to break the +fact to Susan Posey that he was about to leave them for a while, and rush +into the deliriums and dangers of the great city. + +Susan smiled. Gifted hardly knew whether to be pleased with her +sympathy, or vexed that she did not take his leaving more to heart. The +smile held out bravely for about a quarter of a minute. Then there came +on a little twitching at the corners of the mouth. Then. the blue eyes +began to shine with a kind of veiled glimmer. Then the blood came up +into her cheeks with a great rush, as if the heart had sent up a herald +with a red flag from the citadel to know what was going on at the +outworks. The message that went back was of discomfiture and +capitulation. Poor Susan was overcome, and gave herself up to weeping +and sobbing. + +The sight was too much for the young poet. In a wild burst of passion he +seized her hand, and pressed it to his lips, exclaiming, "Would that you +could be mine forever!" and Susan forgot all that she ought to have +remembered, and, looking half reproachfully but half tenderly through her +tears, said, in tones of infinite sweetness, "O Gifted!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE POET AND THE PUBLISHER. + +It was settled that Master Byles Gridley and Mr. Gifted Hopkins should +leave early in the morning of the day appointed, to take the nearest +train to the city. Mrs. Hopkins labored hard to get them ready, so that +they might make a genteel appearance among the great people whom they +would meet in society. She brushed up Mr. Gridley's best black suit, and +bound the cuffs of his dress-coat, which were getting a little worried. +She held his honest-looking hat to the fire, and smoothed it while it was +warm, until one would have thought it had just been ironed by the hatter +himself. She had his boots and shoes brought into a more brilliant +condition than they had ever known: if Gifted helped, it was to his +credit as much as if he had shown his gratitude by polishing off a copy +of verses in praise of his benefactor. + +When she had got Mr. Gridley's encumbrances in readiness for the journey, +she devoted herself to fitting out her son Gifted. First, she had down +from the garret a capacious trunk, of solid wood, but covered with +leather, and adorned with brass-headed nails, by the cunning disposition +of which, also, the paternal initials stood out on the rounded lid, in +the most conspicuous manner. It was his father's trunk, and the first +thing that went into it, as the widow lifted the cover, and the +smothering shut-up smell struck an old chord of associations, was a +single tear-drop. How well she remembered the time when she first +unpacked it for her young husband, and the white shirt bosoms showed +their snowy plaits! O dear, dear! + +But women decant their affection, sweet and sound, out of the old bottles +into the new ones,--off from the lees of the past generation, clear and +bright, into the clean vessels just made ready to receive it. Gifted +Hopkins was his mother's idol, and no wonder. She had not only the +common attachment of a parent for him, as her offspring, but she felt +that her race was to be rendered illustrious by his genius, and thought +proudly of the time when some future biographer would mention her own +humble name, to be held in lasting remembrance as that of the mother of +Hopkins. + +So she took great pains to equip this brilliant but inexperienced young +man with everything he could by any possibility need during his absence. +The great trunk filled itself until it bulged with its contents like a +boa-constrictor who has swallowed his blanket. Best clothes and common +clothes, thick clothes and thin clothes, flannels and linens, socks and +collars, with handkerchiefs enough to keep the pickpockets busy for a +week, with a paper of gingerbread and some lozenges for gastralgia, and +"hot drops," and ruled paper to write letters on, and a little Bible, and +a phial with hiera picra, and another with paregoric, and another with +"camphire" for sprains and bruises, + +--Gifted went forth equipped for every climate from the tropic to the +pole, and armed against every malady from Ague to Zoster. He carried +also the paternal watch, a solid silver bull's-eye, and a large +pocketbook, tied round with a long tape, and, by way of precaution, +pinned into his breast-pocket. He talked about having a pistol, in case +he were attacked by any of the ruffians who are so numerous in the city, +but Mr. Gridley told him, No! he would certainly shoot himself, and he +shouldn't think of letting him take a pistol. + +They went forth, Mentor and Telemachus, at the appointed time, to dare +the perils of the railroad and the snares of the city. Mrs. Hopkins was +firm up to near the last moment, when a little quiver in her voice set +her eyes off, and her face broke up all at once, so that she had to hide +it behind her handkerchief. Susan Posey showed the truthfulness of her +character in her words to Gifted at parting. "Farewell," she said, "and +think of me sometimes while absent. My heart is another's, but my +friendship, Gifted--my friendship--" + +Both were deeply affected. He took her hand and would have raised it to +his lips; but she did not forget herself, and gently withdrew it, +exclaiming, "O Gifted!" this time with a tone of tender reproach which +made him feel like a profligate. He tore himself away, and when at a +safe distance flung her a kiss, which she rewarded with a tearful smile. + +Master Byles Gridley must have had some good dividends from some of his +property of late. There is no other way of accounting for the handsome +style in which he did things on their arrival in the city. He went to a +tailor's and ordered a new suit to be sent home as soon as possible, for +he knew his wardrobe was a little rusty. He looked Gifted over from head +to foot, and suggested such improvements as would recommend him to the +fastidious eyes of the selecter sort of people, and put him in his own +tailor's hands, at the same time saying that all bills were to be sent to +him, B. Gridley, Esq., parlor No. 6, at the Planet Hotel. Thus it came +to pass that in three days from their arrival they were both in an +eminently presentable condition. In the mean time the prudent Mr. +Gridley had been keeping the young man busy, and amusing himself by +showing him such of the sights of the city and its suburbs as he thought +would combine instruction with entertainment. + +When they were both properly equipped and ready for the best company, Mr. +Gridley said to the young poet, who had found it very hard to contain his +impatience, that they would now call together on the publisher to whom he +wished to introduce him, and they set out accordingly. + +"My name is Gridley," he said with modest gravity, as he entered the +publisher's private room. "I have a note of introduction here from one +of your authors, as I think he called himself, a very popular writer for +whom you publish." + +The publisher rose and came forward in the most cordial and respectful +manner. "Mr. Gridley? Professor Byles Gridley,--author of 'Thoughts on +the Universe'?" + +The brave-hearted old man colored as if he had been a young girl. His +dead book rose before him like an apparition. He groped in modest +confusion for an answer. "A child I buried long ago, my dear sir," he +said. "Its title-page was its tombstone. I have brought this young +friend with me,--this is Mr. Gifted Hopkins of Oxbow Village,--who wishes +to converse with you about--" + +"I have come, sir--" the young poet began, interrupting him. + +"Let me look at your manuscript, if you please, Mr. Popkins," said the +publisher, interrupting in his turn. + +"Hopkins, if you please, sir," Gifted suggested mildly, proceeding to +extract the manuscript, which had got wedged into his pocket, and seemed +to be holding on with all its might. He was wondering all the time over +the extraordinary clairvoyance of the publisher, who had looked through +so many thick folds, broadcloth, lining, brown paper, and seen his poems +lying hidden in his breast-pocket. The idea that a young person coming +on such an errand should have to explain his intentions would have seemed +very odd to the publisher. He knew the look which belongs to this class +of enthusiasts just as a horse-dealer knows the look of a green purchaser +with the equine fever raging in his veins. If a young author had come to +him with a scrap of manuscript hidden in his boots, like Major Andre's +papers, the publisher would have taken one glance at him and said, "Out +with it!" + +While he was battling for the refractory scroll with his pocket, which +turned half wrong side out, and acted as things always do when people are +nervous and in a hurry, the publisher directed his conversation again to +Master Byles Gridley. + +"A remarkable book, that of yours, Mr. Gridley, would have a great run if +it were well handled. Came out twenty years too soon,--that was the +trouble. One of our leading scholars was speaking of it to me the other +day. 'We must have a new edition,' he said; people are just ripe for +that book.' Did you ever think of that? Change the form of it a little, +and give it a new title, and it will be a popular book. Five thousand or +more, very likely." + +Mr. Gridley felt as if he had been rapidly struck on the forehead with a +dozen distinct blows from a hammer not quite big enough to stun him. He +sat still without saying a word. He had forgotten for the moment all +about poor Gifted Hopkins, who had got out his manuscript at last, and +was calming the disturbed corners of it. Coming to himself a little, he +took a large and beautiful silk handkerchief, one of his new purchases, +from his pocket, and applied it to his face, for the weather seemed to +have grown very warm all at once. Then he remembered the errand on which +he had come, and thought of this youth, who had got to receive his first +hard lesson in life, and whom he had brought to this kind man that it +should be gently administered. + +"You surprise me," he said,--"you surprise me. Dead and buried. Dead and +buried. I had sometimes thought that--at some future period, after I was +gone, it might--but I hardly know what to say about your suggestions. +But here is my young friend, Mr. Hopkins, who would like to talk with +you, and I will leave him in your hands. I am at the Planet Hotel, if you +should care to call upon me. Good morning. Mr. Hopkins will explain +everything to you more at his ease, without me, I am confident." + +Master Gridley could not quite make up his mind to stay through the +interview between the young poet and the publisher. The flush of hope +was bright in Gifted's eye and cheek, and the good man knew that young +hearts are apt to be over-sanguine, and that one who enters a shower-bath +often feels very differently from the same person when he has pulled the +string. + +"I have brought you my Poems in the original autographs, sir," said Mr. +Gifted Hopkins. + +He laid the manuscript on the table, caressing the leaves still with one +hand, as loath to let it go. + +"What disposition had you thought of making of them?" the publisher +asked, in a pleasant tone. He was as kind a man as lived, though he +worked the chief engine in a chamber of torture. + +"I wish to read you a few specimens of the poems," he said, "with +reference to their proposed publication in a volume." + +"By all means," said the kind publisher, who determined to be very +patient with the protege of the hitherto little-known, but remarkable +writer, Professor Gridley. At the same time he extended his foot in an +accidental sort of way, and pressed it on the right hand knob of three +which were arranged in a line beneath the table. A little bell in a +distant apartment--the little bell marked C--gave one slight note; loud +enough to start a small boy up, who looked at the clock, and knew that he +was to go and call the publisher in just twenty-five minutes. "A, five +minutes; B, ten minutes; C, twenty-five minutes ";--that was the +youngster's working formula. Mr. Hopkins was treated to the full +allowance of time, as being introduced by Professor Gridley. + +The young man laid open the manuscript so that the title-page, written +out very handsomely in his own hand, should win the eye of the publisher. + + BLOSSOMS OF THE SOUL. + A WREATH OF VERSE; Original. + + BY GIFTED HOPKINS. + + "a youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown."--Gray. + +"Shall I read you some of the rhymed pieces first, or some of the +blank-verse poems, sir?" Gifted asked. + +"Read what you think is best,--a specimen of your first-class style of +composition." + +"I will read you the very last poem I have written," he said, and he +began: + + "THE TRIUMPH OF SONG. + + "I met that gold-haired maiden, all too dear; + And I to her: Lo! thou art very fair, + Fairer than all the ladies in the world + That fan the sweetened air with scented fans, + And I am scorched with exceeding love, + Yea, crisped till my bones are dry as straw. + Look not away with that high-arched brow, + But turn its whiteness that I may behold, + And lift thy great eyes till they blaze on mine, + And lay thy finger on thy perfect mouth, + And let thy lucent ears of careen pearl + Drink in the murmured music of my soul, + As the lush grass drinks in the globed dew; + For I have many scrolls of sweetest rhyme + I will unroll and make thee glad to hear. + + "Then she: O shaper of the marvellous phrase + That openeth woman's heart as Both a key, + I dare not hear thee--lest the bolt should slide + That locks another's heart within my own. + Go, leave me,--and she let her eyelids fall, + And the great tears rolled from her large blue eyes. + + "Then I: If thou not hear me, I shall die, + Yea, in my desperate mood may lift my hand + And do myself a hurt no leach can mend; + For poets ever were of dark resolve, + And swift stern deed + + "That maiden heard no more, + But spike: Alas! my heart is very weak, + And but for--Stay! And if some dreadful morn, + After great search and shouting thorough the wold, + We found thee missing,--strangled,--drowned i' the mere, + Then should I go distraught and be clean mad! + + "O poet, read! read all thy wondrous scrolls. + Yea, read the verse that maketh glad to hear! + Then I began and read two sweet, brief hours, + And she forgot all love save only mine!" + +"Is all this from real life?" asked the publisher. + +"It--no, sir--not exactly from real life--that is, the leading female +person is not wholly fictitious--and the incident is one which might have +happened. Shall I read you the poems referred to in the one you have +just heard, sir?" + +"Allow me, one moment. Two hours' reading, I think, you said. I fear I +shall hardly be able to spare quite time to hear them all. Let me ask +what you intend doing with these productions, Mr.---rr Poplins." + +"Hopkins, if you please, sir, not Poplins," said Gifted, plaintively. He +expressed his willingness to dispose of the copyright, to publish on +shares, or perhaps to receive a certain percentage on the profits. + +"Suppose we take a glass of wine together, Mr.--Hopkins, before we talk +business," the publisher said, opening a little cupboard and taking +therefrom a decanter and two glasses. He saw the young man was looking +nervous. He waited a few minutes, until the wine had comforted his +epigastrium, and diffused its gentle glow through his unspoiled and +consequently susceptible organisation. + +"Come with me," he said. + +Gifted followed him into a dingy apartment in the attic, where one sat at +a great table heaped and piled with manuscripts. By him was a huge +basket, ha'f full of manuscripts also. As they entered he dropped +another manuscript into the basket and looked up. + +"Tell me," said Gifted, "what are these papers, and who is he that looks +upon them and drops them into the basket?" + +"These are the manuscript poems that we receive, and the one sitting at +the table is commonly spoken of among us as 'The Butcher'. The poems he +drops into the basket are those rejected as of no account" + +"But does he not read the poems before he rejects them?" + +"He tastes them. Do you eat a cheese before you buy it?" + +"And what becomes of all those that he drops into the basket?" + +"If they are not claimed by their author in proper season, they go to the +devil." + +"What!" said Gifted, with his eyes stretched very round. + +"To the paper factory, where they have a horrid machine they call the +devil, that tears everything to bits,--as the critics treat our authors, +sometimes, sometimes, Mr. Hopkins." + +Gifted devoted a moment to silent reflection. + +After this instructive sight they returned together to the publisher's +private room. The wine had now warmed the youthful poet's praecordia, so +that he began to feel a renewed confidence in his genius and his +fortunes. + +"I should like to know what that critic of yours would say to my +manuscript," he said boldly. + +"You can try it if you want to," the publisher replied, with an ominous +dryness of manner which the sanguine youth did not perceive, or, +perceiving, did not heed. + +"How can we manage to get an impartial judgment?" + +"Oh, I'll arrange that. He always goes to his luncheon about this time. +Raw meat and vitriol punch,--that 's what the authors say. Wait till we +hear him go, and then I will lay your manuscript so that he will come to +it among the first after he gets back. You shall see with your own eyes +what treatment it gets. I hope it may please him, but you shall see." + +They went back to the publisher's private room and talked awhile. Then +the little office-boy came up with some vague message about a +gentleman--business--wants to see you, sir, etc., according to the +established programme; all in a vacant, mechanical sort of way, as if he +were a talking-machine just running down. + +The publisher told the boy that he was engaged, and the gentleman must +wait. Very soon they heard The Butcher's heavy footstep as he went out +to get his raw meat and vitriol punch. + +"Now, then," said the publisher, and led forth the confiding literary lamb +once more, to enter the fatal door of the critical shambles. + +"Hand me your manuscript, if you please, Mr. Hopkins. I will lay it so +that it shall be the third of these that are coming to hand. Our friend +here is a pretty good judge of verse, and knows a merchantable article +about as quick as any man in his line of business. If he forms a +favorable opinion of your poems, we will talk over your propositions." + +Gifted was conscious of a very slight tremor as he saw his precious +manuscript deposited on the table, under two others, and over a pile of +similar productions. Still he could not help feeling that the critic +would be struck by his title. The quotation from Gray must touch his +feelings. The very first piece in the collection could not fail to +arrest him. He looked a little excited, but he was in good spirits. + +"We will be looking about here when our friend comes back," the publisher +said. " He is a very methodical person, and will sit down and go right to +work just as if we were not here. We can watch him, and if he should +express any particular interest in your poems, I will, if you say so, +carry you up to him and reveal the fact that you are the author of the +works that please him." + +They waited patiently until The Butcher returned, apparently refreshed by +his ferocious refection, and sat down at his table. He looked comforted, +and not in ill humor. The publisher and the poet talked in low tones, as +if on business of their own, and watched him as he returned to his labor. + +The Butcher took the first manuscript that came to hand, read a stanza +here and there, turned over the leaves, turned back and tried +again,--shook his head--held it for an instant over the basket, as if +doubtful,--and let it softly drop. He took up the second manuscript, +opened it in several places, seemed rather pleased with what he read, and +laid it aside for further examination. + +He took up the third. "Blossoms of the Soul," etc. He glared at it in a +dreadfully ogreish way. Both the lockers-on held their breath. Gifted +Hopkins felt as if half a glass more of that warm sherry would not hurt +him. There was a sinking at the pit of his stomach, as if he was in a +swing, as high as he could go, close up to the swallows' nests and +spiders' webs. The Butcher opened the manuscript at random, read ten +seconds, and gave a short low grunt. He opened again, read ten seconds, +and gave another grunt, this time a little longer and louder. He opened +once more, read five seconds, and, with something that sounded like the +snort of a dangerous animal, cast it impatiently into the basket, and +took up the manuscript that came next in order. + +Gifted Hopkins stood as if paralyzed for a moment. + +"Safe, perfectly safe," the publisher said to him in a whisper. "I'll get +it for you presently. Come in and take another glass of wine," he said, +leading him back to his own office. + +"No, I thank you," he said faintly, "I can bear it. But this is +dreadful, sir. Is this the way that genius is welcomed to the world of +letters?" + +The publisher explained to him, in the kindest manner, that there was an +enormous over-production of verse, and that it took a great part of one +man's time simply to overhaul the cart-loads of it that were trying to +get themselves into print with the imprimatur of his famous house. "You +are young, Mr. Hopkins. I advise you not to try to force your article of +poetry on the market. The B----, our friend, there, that is, knows a +thing that will sell as soon as he sees it. You are in independent +circumstances, perhaps? If so, you can print--at your own +expense--whatever you choose. May I take the liberty to ask +your--profession?" + +Gifted explained that he was "clerk" in a "store," where they sold dry +goods and West India goods, and goods promiscuous. + +"Oh, well, then," the publisher said, "you will understand me. Do you +know a good article of brown sagas when you see it?" + +Gifted Hopkins rather thought he did. He knew at sight whether it was a +fair, salable article or not. + +"Just so. Now our friend, there, knows verses that are salable and +unsalable as well as you do brown sugar.--Keep quiet now, and I will go +and get your manuscript for you. + +"There, Mr. Hopkins, take your poems,--they will give you a reputation in +your village, I don't doubt, which, is pleasant, but it will cost you a +good deal of money to print them in a volume. You are very young: you +can afford to wait. Your genius is not ripe yet, I am confident, Mr. +Hopkins. These verses are very well for a beginning, but a man of +promise like you, Mr. Hopkins, must n't throw away his chance by +premature publication! I should like to make you a present of a few of +the books we publish. By and by, perhaps, we can work you into our +series of poets; but the best pears ripen slowly, and so with +genius.--Where shall I send the volumes?" + +Gifted answered, to parlor No. 6, Planet Hotel, where he soon presented +himself to Master Gridley, who could guess pretty well what was coming. +But he let him tell his story. + +"Shall I try the other publishers?" said the disconsolate youth. + +"I would n't, my young friend, I would n't. You have seen the best one +of them--all. He is right about it, quite right: you are young, and had +better wait. Look here, Gifted, here is something to please you. We are +going to visit the gay world together. See what has been left here this +forenoon." + +He showed him two elegant notes of invitation requesting the pleasure of +Professor Byles Gridley's and of Mr. Gifted Hopkins's company on Thursday +evening, as the guests of Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, of 24 Carat Place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +MRS. CLYMER KETCHUM'S PARTY. + +Myrtle Hazard had flowered out as beyond question the handsomest girl of +the season, There were hints from different quarters that she might +possibly be an heiress. Vague stories were about of some contingency +which might possibly throw a fortune into her lap. The young men about +town talked of her at the clubs in their free-and-easy way, but all +agreed that she was the girl of the new crop,--"best filly this grass," +as Livingston Jenkins put it. The general understanding seemed to be +that the young lawyer who had followed her to the city was going to +capture her. She seemed to favor him certainly as much as anybody. But +Myrtle saw many young men now, and it was not so easy as it would once +have been to make out who was an especial favorite. + +There had been times when Murray Bradshaw would have offered his heart +and hand to Myrtle at once, if he had felt sure that she would accept +him. But he preferred playing the safe game now, and only wanted to feel +sure of her. He had done his best to be agreeable, and could hardly +doubt that he had made an impression. He dressed well when in the +city,--even elegantly,--he had many of the lesser social accomplishments, +was a good dancer, and compared favorably in all such matters with the +more dashing young fellows in society. He was a better talker than most +of them, and he knew more about the girl he was dealing with than they +could know. "You have only got to say the word, Murray," Mrs. Clymer +Ketchum said to her relative, "and you can have her. But don't be rash. +I believe you can get Berengaria if you try; and there 's something +better there than possibilities." Murray Bradshaw laughed, and told Mrs. +Clymer Ketchum not to worry about him; he knew what he was doing. + +It so happened that Myrtle met Master Byles Gridley walking with Mr. +Gifted Hopkins the day before the party. She longed to have a talk with +her old friend, and was glad to have a chance of pleasing her poetical +admirer. She therefore begged her hostess to invite them both to her +party to please her, which she promised to do at once. Thus the two +elegant notes were accounted for. + +Mrs. Clymer Ketchum, though her acquaintances were chiefly in the world +of fortune and of fashion, had yet a certain weakness for what she called +clever people. She therefore always variegated her parties with a streak +of young artists and writers, and a literary lady or two; and, if she +could lay hands on a first-class celebrity, was as happy as an Amazon who +had captured a Centaur. + +"There's a demonish clever young fellow by the name of Lindsay," Mr. +Livingston Jenkins said to her a little before the day of the party. +"Better ask him. They say he 's the rising talent in his line, +architecture mainly, but has done some remarkable things in the way of +sculpture. There's some story about a bust he made that was quite +wonderful. I'll find his address for you." So Mr. Clement Lindsay got +his invitation, and thus Mrs. Clymer Ketchum's party promised to bring +together a number of persons with whom we are acquainted, and who were +acquainted with each other. + +Mrs. Clymer Ketchum knew how to give a party. Let her only have carte +blanche for flowers, music, and champagne, she used to tell her lord, and +she would see to the rest,--lighting the rooms, tables, and toilet. He +needn't be afraid: all he had to do was to keep out of the way. + +Subdivision of labor is one of the triumphs of modern civilization. Labor +was beautifully subdivided in this lady's household. It was old +Ketchum's business to make money, and he understood it. It was Mrs. K.'s +business to spend money, and she knew how to do it. The rooms blazed +with light like a conflagration; the flowers burned like lamps of +many-colored flame; the music throbbed into the hearts of the promenaders +and tingled through all the muscles of the dancers. + +Mrs. Clymer Ketchum was in her glory. Her point d'Alenyon must have +spoiled ever so many French girls' eyes. Her bosom heaved beneath a kind +of breastplate glittering with a heavy dew of diamonds. She glistened +and sparkled with every movement, so that the admirer forgot to question +too closely whether the eyes matched the brilliants, or the cheeks glowed +like the roses. Not far from the great lady stood Myrtle Hazard. She +was dressed as the fashion of the day demanded, but she had added certain +audacious touches of her own, reminiscences of the time when the dead +beauty had flourished, and which first provoked the question and then the +admiration of the young people who had a natural eye for effect. Over +the long white glove on her left arm was clasped a rich bracelet, of so +quaint an antique pattern that nobody had seen anything like it, and as +some one whispered that it was "the last thing out," it was greatly +admired by the fashion-plate multitude, as well as by the few who had a +taste of their own. If the soul of Judith Pride, long divorced from its +once beautifully moulded dust, ever lived in dim consciousness through +any of those who inherited her blood, it was then and there that she +breathed through the lips of Myrtle Hazard. The young girl almost +trembled with the ecstasy of this new mode of being, soliciting every +sense with light, with perfume, with melody,--all that could make her +feel the wonderful complex music of a fresh life when all its chords +first vibrate together in harmony. Miss Rhadamantha Pinnikle, whose +mother was an Apex (of whose race it was said that they always made an +obeisance when the family name was mentioned, and had all their portraits +painted with halos round their heads), found herself extinguished in this +new radiance. Miss Victoria Capsheaf stuck to the wall as if she had +been a fresco on it. The fifty-year-old dynasties were dismayed and +dismounted. Myrtle fossilized them as suddenly as if she had been a +Gorgon instead of a beauty. + +The guests in whom we may have some interest were in the mean time making +ready for the party, which was expected to be a brilliant one; for 24 +Carat Place was well known for the handsome style of its entertainments. + +Clement Lindsay was a little surprised by his invitation. He had, +however, been made a lion of several times of late, and was very willing +to amuse himself once in a while with a peep into the great world. + +It was but an empty show to him at best, for his lot was cast, and he +expected to lead a quiet domestic life after his student days were over. + +Master Byles Gridley had known what society was in his earlier time, and +understood very well that all a gentleman of his age had to do was to +dress himself in his usual plain way, only taking a little more care in +his arrangements than was needed in the latitude of Oxbow Village. But +Gifted must be looked after, that he should not provoke the unamiable +comments of the city youth by any defect or extravagance of costume. The +young gentleman had bought a light sky-blue neckerchief, and a very large +breast-pin containing a gem which he was assured by the vender was a +genuine stone. He considered that both these would be eminently +effective articles of dress, and Mr. Gridley had some trouble to convince +him that a white tie and plain shirt-buttons would be more fitted to the +occasion. + +On the morning of the day of the great party Mr. William Murray Bradshaw +received a brief telegram, which seemed to cause him great emotion, as he +changed color, uttered a forcible exclamation, and began walking up and +down his room in a very nervous kind of way. It was a foreshadowing of a +certain event now pretty sure to happen. Whatever bearing this telegram +may have had upon his plans, he made up his mind that he would contrive +an opportunity somehow that very evening to propose himself as a suitor +to Myrtle Hazard. He could not say that he felt as absolutely certain of +getting the right answer as he had felt at some previous periods. Myrtle +knew her price, he said to himself, a great deal better than when she was +a simple country girl. The flatteries with which she had been +surrounded, and the effect of all the new appliances of beauty, which had +set her off so that she could not help seeing her own attractions, +rendered her harder to please and to satisfy. A little experience in +society teaches a young girl the arts and the phrases which all the +Lotharios have in common. Murray Bradshaw was ready to land his fish +now, but he was not quite sure that she was yet hooked, and he had a +feeling that by this time she knew every fly in his book. However, as he +had made up his mind not to wait another day, he addressed himself to the +trial before him with a determination to succeed, if any means at his +command would insure success. He arrayed himself with faultless +elegance: nothing must be neglected on such an occasion. He went forth +firm and grave as a general going into a battle where all is to be lost +or won. He entered the blazing saloon with the unfailing smile upon his +lips, to which he set them as he set his watch to a particular hour and +minute. + +The rooms were pretty well filled when he arrived and made his bow before +the blazing, rustling, glistening, waving, blushing appearance under +which palpitated, with the pleasing excitement of the magic scene over +which its owner presided, the heart of Mrs. Clymer Ketchum. He turned to +Myrtle Hazard, and if he had ever doubted which way his inclinations led +him, he could doubt no longer. How much dress and how much light can a +woman bear? That is the way to measure her beauty. A plain girl in a +simple dress, if she has only a pleasant voice, may seem almost a beauty +in the rosy twilight. The nearer she comes to being handsome, the more +ornament she will bear, and the more she may defy the sunshine or the +chandelier. + +Murray Bradshaw was fairly dazzled with the brilliant effect of Myrtle in +full dress. He did not know before what handsome arms she had,--Judith +Pride's famous arms--which the high-colored young men in top-boots used +to swear were the handsomest pair in New England--right over again. He +did not know before with what defiant effect she would light up, standing +as she did directly under a huge lustre, in full flower of flame, like a +burning azalea. He was not a man who intended to let his sentiments +carry him away from the serious interests of his future, yet, as he +looked upon Myrtle Hazard, his heart gave one throb which made him feel +in every pulse that this way a woman who in her own right, simply as a +woman, could challenge the homage of the proudest young man of her time. +He hardly knew till this moment how much of passion mingled with other +and calmer motives of admiration. He could say I love you as truly as +such a man could ever speak these words, meaning that he admired her, +that he was attracted to her, that he should be proud of her as his wife, +that he should value himself always as the proprietor of so rare a +person, that no appendage to his existence would take so high a place in +his thoughts. This implied also, what is of great consequence to a young +woman's happiness in the married state, that she would be treated with +uniform politeness, with satisfactory evidences of affection, and with a +degree of confidence quite equal to what a reasonable woman should expect +from a very superior man, her husband. + +If Myrtle could have looked through the window in the breast against +which only authors are privileged to flatten their features, it is for +the reader to judge how far the programme would have satisfied her. + +Less than this, a great deal less, does appear to satisfy many young +women; and it may be that the interior just drawn, fairly judged, belongs +to a model lover and husband. Whether it does or not, Myrtle did not see +this picture. There was a beautifully embroidered shirt-bosom in front +of that window through which we have just looked, that intercepted all +sight of what was going on within. She only saw a man, young, handsome, +courtly, with a winning tongue, with an ambitious spirit, whose every +look and tone implied his admiration of herself, and who was associated +with her past life in such a way that they alone appeared like old +friends in the midst of that cold alien throng. It seemed as if he could +not have chosen a more auspicious hour than this; for she never looked so +captivating, and her presence must inspire his lips with the eloquence of +love. And she--was not this delirious atmosphere of light and music just +the influence to which he would wish to subject her before trying the +last experiment of all which can stir the soul of a woman? He knew the +mechanism of that impressionable state which served Coleridge so +excellently well,-- + + "All impulses of soul and sense + Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve + The music, and the doleful tale, + The rich and balmy eve,"-- + +though he hardly expected such startling results as happened in that +case,--which might be taken as an awful warning not to sing moving +ballads to young ladies of susceptible feelings, unless one is prepared +for very serious consequences. Without expecting that Myrtle would rush +into his arms, he did think that she could not help listening to him in +the intervals of the delicious music, in some recess where the roses and +jasmines and heliotropes made the air heavy with sweetness, and the +crimson curtains drooped in heavy folds that half hid their forms from +the curious eyes all round them. Her heart would swell like Genevieve's +as he told her in simple phrase that she was his life, his love, his +all,--for in some two or three words like these he meant to put his +appeal, and not in fine poetical phrases: that would do for Gifted +Hopkins and rhyming tom-tits of that feather. + +Full of his purpose, involving the plans of his whole life, implying, as +he saw clearly, a brilliant future or a disastrous disappointment, with a +great unexploded mine of consequences under his feet, and the spark ready +to fall into it, he walked about the gilded saloon with a smile upon his +lips so perfectly natural and pleasant, that one would have said he was +as vacant of any aim, except a sort of superficial good-matured +disposition to be amused, as the blankest-eyed simpleton who had tied +himself up in a white cravat and come to bore and be bored. + +Yet under this pleasant smile his mind was so busy with its thoughts that +he had forgotten all about the guests from Oxbow Village who, as Myrtle +had told him, were to come this evening. His eye was all at once caught +by a familiar figure, and he recognized Master Byles Gridley, accompanied +by Mr. Gifted Hopkins, at the door of the saloon. He stepped forward at +once to meet, and to present them. + +Mr. Gridley in evening costume made an eminently dignified and +respectable appearance. There was an unusual lock of benignity upon his +firmly moulded features, and an air of ease which rather surprised Mr. +Bradshaw, who did not know all the social experiences which had formed a +part of the old Master's history. The greeting between them was +courteous, but somewhat formal, as Mr. Bradshaw was acting as one of the +masters of ceremony. He nodded to Gifted in an easy way, and led them +both into the immediate Presence. + +"This is my friend Professor Gridley, Mrs. Ketchum, whom I have the honor +of introducing to you,--a very distinguished scholar, as I have no doubt +you are well aware. And this is my friend Mr. Gifted Hopkins, a young +poet of distinction, whose fame will reach you by and by, if it has not +come to your ears already." + +The two gentlemen went through the usual forms, the poet a little crushed +by the Presence, but doing his best. While the lady was making polite +speeches to them, Myrtle Hazard came forward. She was greatly delighted +to meet her old friend, and even looked upon the young poet with a degree +of pleasure she would hardly have expected to receive from his company. +They both brought with them so many reminiscences of familiar scenes and +events, that it was like going back for the moment to Oxbow Village. But +Myrtle did not belong to herself that evening, and had no opportunity to +enter into conversation just then with either of them. There was to be +dancing by and by, and the younger people were getting impatient that it +should begin. At last the music sounded the well-known summons, and the +floors began to ring to the tread of the dancers. As usual on such +occasions there were a large number of noncombatants, who stood as +spectators around those who were engaged in the campaign of the evening. +Mr. Byles Gridley looked on gravely, thinking of the minuets and the +gavots of his younger days. Mr. Gifted Hopkins, who had never acquired +the desirable accomplishment of dancing, gazed with dazzled and admiring +eyes at the wonderful evolutions of the graceful performers. The music +stirred him a good deal; he had also been introduced to one or two young +persons as Mr. Hopkins, the poet, and he began to feel a kind of +excitement, such as was often the prelude of a lyric burst from his pen. +Others might have wealth and beauty, he thought to himself, but what were +these to the gift of genius? In fifty years the wealth of these people +would have passed into other hands. In fifty years all these beauties +would be dead, or wrinkled and double-wrinkled great-grandmothers. And +when they were all gone and forgotten, the name of Hopkins would be still +fresh in the world's memory. Inspiring thought! A smile of triumph rose +to his lips; he felt that the village boy who could look forward to fame +as his inheritance was richer than all the millionnaires, and that the +words he should set in verse would have an enduring lustre to which the +whiteness of pearls was cloudy, and the sparkle of diamonds dull. + +He raised his eyes, which had been cast down in reflection, to look upon +these less favored children of Fortune, to whom she had given nothing but +perishable inheritances. Two or three pairs of eyes, he observed, were +fastened upon him. His mouth perhaps betrayed a little +self-consciousness, but he tried to show his features in an aspect of +dignified self-possession. There seemed to be remarks and questionings +going on, which he supposed to be something like the following:-- + +Which is it? Which is it?--Why, that one, there,--that young +fellow,--don't you see?--What young fellow are you two looking at? Who is +he? What is he?--Why, that is Hopkins, the poet.--Hopkins, the poet! +Let me see him! Let me see him! Hopkins? What! Gifted Hopkins? etc., +etc. + +Gifted Hopkins did not hear these words except in fancy, but he did +unquestionably find a considerable number of eyes concentrated upon him, +which he very naturally interpreted as an evidence that he had already +begun to enjoy a foretaste of the fame of which he should hereafter have +his full allowance. Some seemed to be glancing furtively, some appeared +as if they wished to speak, and all the time the number of those looking +at him seemed to be increasing. A vision came through his fancy of +himself as standing on a platform, and having persons who wished to look +upon him and shake hands with him presented, as he had heard was the way +with great people when going about the country. But this was only a +suggestion, and by no means a serious thought, for that would have +implied infatuation. + +Gifted Hopkins was quite right in believing that he attracted many eyes. +At last those of Myrtle Hazard were called to him, and she perceived that +an accident was making him unenviably conspicuous. The bow of his rather +large white neck-tie had slid round and got beneath his left ear. A not +very good-natured or well-bred young fellow had pointed out the subject +of this slight misfortune to one or two others of not much better taste +or breeding, and thus the unusual attention the youthful poet was +receiving explained itself. Myrtle no sooner saw the little accident of +which her rural friend was the victim than she left her place in the +dance with a simple courage which did her credit. + +"I want to speak to you a minute," she said. "Come into this alcove." + +And the courageous young lady not only told Gifted what had happened to +him, but found a pin somehow, as women always do on a pinch, and had him +in presentable condition again almost before the bewildered young man +knew what was the matter. On reflection it occurred to him, as it has to +other provincial young persons going to great cities, that he might +perhaps have been hasty in thinking himself an object of general +curiosity as yet. There had hardly been time for his name to have become +very widely known. Still, the feeling had been pleasant for the moment, +and had given him an idea of what the rapture would be, when, wherever he +went, the monster digit (to hint a classical phrase) of the collective +admiring public would be lifted to point him out, and the whisper would +pass from one to another, "That's him! That's Hopkins!" + +Mr. Murray Bradshaw had been watching the opportunity for carrying out +his intentions, with his pleasant smile covering up all that was passing +in his mind, and Master Byles Gridley, looking equally unconcerned, had +been watching him. The young man's time came at last. Some were at the +supper-table, some were promenading, some were talking, when he managed +to get Myrtle a little apart from the rest, and led her towards one of +the recesses in the apartment, where two chairs were invitingly placed. +Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were sparkling,--the influences to +which he had trusted had not been thrown away upon her. He had no idea +of letting his purpose be seen until he was fully ready. It required all +his self-mastery to avoid betraying himself by look or tone, but he was +so natural that Myrtle was thrown wholly off her guard. He meant to make +her pleased with herself at the outset, and that not by point-blank +flattery, of which she had had more than enough of late, but rather by +suggestion and inference, so that she should find herself feeling happy +without knowing how. It would be easy to glide from that to the +impression she had produced upon him, and get the two feelings more or +less mingled in her mind. And so the simple confession he meant to make +would at length evolve itself logically, and hold by a natural connection +to the first agreeable train of thought which he had called up. Not the +way, certainly, that most young men would arrange their great trial +scene; but Murray Bradshaw was a lawyer in love as much as in business, +and considered himself as pleading a cause before a jury of Myrtle +Hazard's conflicting motives. What would any lawyer do in a jury case +but begin by giving the twelve honest men and true to understand, in the +first place, that their intelligence and virtue were conceded by all, and +that he himself had perfect confidence in them, and leave them to shape +their verdict in accordance with these propositions and his own side of +the case? + +Myrtle had, perhaps, never so seriously inclined her ear to the honeyed +accents of the young pleader. He flattered her with so much tact, that +she thought she heard an unconscious echo through his lips of an +admiration which he only shared with all around him. But in him he made +it seem discriminating, deliberate, not blind, but very real. This it +evidently was which had led him to trust her with his ambitions and his +plans,--they might be delusions, but he could never keep them from her, +and she was the one woman in the world to whom he thought he could safely +give his confidence. + +The dread moment was close at hand. Myrtle was listening with an +instinctive premonition of what was coming,--ten thousand mothers and +grandmothers and great-grandmothers, and so on, had passed through it all +in preceding generations until time reached backwards to the sturdy +savage who asked no questions of any kind, but knocked down the primeval +great-grandmother of all, and carried her off to his hole in the rock, or +into the tree where he had made his nest. Why should not the coming +question announce itself by stirring in the pulses and thrilling in the +nerves of the descendant of all these grandmothers? + +She was leaning imperceptibly towards him, drawn by the mere blind +elemental force, as the plummet was attracted to the side of Schehallion. +Her lips were parted, and she breathed a little faster than so healthy a +girl ought to breathe in a state of repose. The steady nerves of William +Murray Bradshaw felt unwonted thrills and tremors tingling through them, +as he came nearer and nearer the few simple words with which he was to +make Myrtle Hazard the mistress of his destiny. His tones were becoming +lower and more serious; there were slight breaks once or twice in the +conversation; Myrtle had cast down her eyes. + +"There is but one word more to add," he murmured softly, as he bent +towards her-- + +A grave voice interrupted him. "Excuse me, Mr. Bradshaw," said Master +Bytes Gridley, "I wish to present a young gentleman to my friend here. I +promised to show him the most charming young person I have the honor to +be acquainted with, and I must redeem my pledge. Miss Hazard, I have the +pleasure of introducing to your acquaintance my distinguished young +friend, Mr. Clement Lindsay." + +Once mere, for the third time, these two young persons stood face to +face. Myrtle was no longer liable to those nervous seizures which any +sudden impression was liable to produce when she was in her half-hysteric +state of mind and body. She turned to the new-comer, who found himself +unexpectedly submitted to a test which he would never have risked of his +own will. He must go through it, cruel as it was, with the easy +self-command which belongs to a gentleman in the most trying social +exigencies. He addressed her, therefore, in the usual terms of courtesy, +and then turned and greeted Mr. Bradshaw, whom he had never met since +their coming together at Oxbow Village. Myrtle was conscious, the +instant she looked upon Clement Lindsay, of the existence of some +peculiar relation between them; but what, she could not tell. Whatever +it was, it broke the charm which had been weaving between her and Murray +Bradshaw. He was not foolish enough to make a scene. What fault could +he find with Clement Lindsay, who had only done as any gentleman would do +with a lady to whom he had just been introduced, addressed a few polite +words to her? After saying those words, Clement had turned very +courteously to him, and they had spoken with each other. But Murray +Bradshaw could not help seeing that Myrtle had transferred her attention, +at least for the moment, from him to the new-comer. He folded his arms +and waited,--but he waited in vain. The hidden attraction which drew +Clement to the young girl with whom he had passed into the Valley of the +Shadow of Death overmastered all other feelings, and he gave himself up +to the fascination of her presence. + +The inward rage of Murray Bradshaw at being interrupted just at the +moment when he was, as he thought, about to cry checkmate and finish the +first great game he had ever played may well be imagined. But it could +not be helped. Myrtle had exercised the customary privilege of young +ladies at parties, and had turned from talking with one to talking with +another,--that was all. Fortunately, for him the young man who had been +introduced at such a most critical moment was not one from whom he need +apprehend any serious interference. He felt grateful beyond measure to +pretty Susan Posey, who, as he had good reason for believing, retained +her hold upon her early lover, and was looking forward with bashful +interest to the time when she should become Mrs. Lindsay. It was better +to put up quietly with his disappointment; and, if he could get no +favorable opportunity that evening to resume his conversation at the +interesting point where he left it off, he would call the next day and +bring matters to a conclusion. + +He called accordingly the next morning, but was disappointed in not +seeing Myrtle. She had hardly slept that night, and was suffering from a +bad headache, which last reason was her excuse for not seeing company. + +He called again, the following day, and learned that Miss Hazard had just +left the city, and gone on a visit to Oxbow Village: + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +MINE AND COUNTERMINE. + +What the nature of the telegram was which had produced such an effect on +the feelings and plans of Mr. William Murray Bradshaw nobody especially +interested knew but himself. We may conjecture that it announced some +fact, which had leaked out a little prematurely, relating to the issue of +the great land-case in which the firm was interested. However that might +be, Mr. Bradshaw no sooner heard that Myrtle had suddenly left the city +for Oxbow Village,--for what reason he puzzled himself to guess,--than he +determined to follow her at once, and take up the conversation he had +begun at the party where it left off. And as the young poet had received +his quietus for the present at the publisher's, and as Master Gridley had +nothing specially to detain him, they too returned at about the same +time, and so our old acquaintances were once more together within the +familiar precincts where we have been accustomed to see them. + +Master Gridley did not like playing the part of a spy, but it must be +remembered that he was an old college officer, and had something of the +detective's sagacity, and a certain cunning derived from the habit of +keeping an eye on mischievous students. If any underhand contrivance was +at work, involving the welfare of any one in whom he was interested, he +was a dangerous person for the plotters, for he had plenty of time to +attend to them, and would be apt to take a kind of pleasure in matching +his wits against another crafty person's,--such a one, for instance, as +Mr. Macchiavelli Bradshaw. + +Perhaps he caught some words of that gentleman's conversation at the +party; at any rate, he could not fail to observe his manner. When he +found that the young man had followed Myrtle back to the village, he +suspected something more than a coincidence. When he learned that he was +assiduously visiting The Poplars, and that he was in close communication +with Miss Cynthia Badlam, he felt sure that he was pressing the siege of +Myrtle's heart. But that there was some difficulty in the way was +equally clear to him, for he ascertained, through channels which the +attentive reader will soon have means of conjecturing, that Myrtle had +seen him but once in the week following his return, and that in the +presence of her dragons. She had various excuses when he +called,--headaches, perhaps, among the rest, as these are staple articles +on such occasions. But Master Gridley knew his man too well to think +that slight obstacles would prevent his going forward to effect his +purpose. + +"I think he will get her; if he holds on," the old man said to himself, +"and he won't let go in a hurry, if there were any real love about +it--but surely he is incapable of such a human weakness as the tender +passion. What does all this sudden concentration upon the girl mean? He +knows something about her that we don't know,--that must be it. What did +he hide that paper for, a year ago and more? Could that have anything to +do with his pursuit of Myrtle Hazard today?" + +Master Gridley paused as he asked this question of himself, for a +luminous idea had struck him. Consulting daily with Cynthia Badlam, was +he? Could there be a conspiracy between these two persons to conceal +some important fact, or to keep something back until it would be for +their common interest to have it made known? + +Now Mistress Kitty Fagan was devoted, heart and soul, to Myrtle Hazard, +and ever since she had received the young girl from Mr. Gridley's hands, +when he brought her back safe and sound after her memorable adventure, +had considered him as Myrtle's best friend and natural protector. These +simple creatures, whose thoughts are not taken up, like those of educated +people, with the care of a great museum of dead phrases, are very quick +to see the live facts which are going on about them. Mr. Gridley had met +her, more or less accidentally, several times of late, and inquired very +particularly about Myrtle, and how she got along at the house since her +return, and whether she was getting over her headaches, and how they +treated her in the family. + +"Bliss your heart, Mr. Gridley," Kitty said to him on one of these +occasions, "it's ahltogither changed intirely. Sure Miss Myrtle does +jist iverythin' she likes, an' Miss Withers niver middles with her at +ahl, excip' jist to roll up her eyes an' look as if she was the +hid-moorner at a funeril whiniver Miss Myrtle says she wants to do this +or that, or to go here or there. It's Miss Badlam that's ahlwiz after +her, an' a-watchin' her,--she thinks she's cunnin'er than a cat, but +there 's other folks that's got eyes an' ears as good as hers. It's that +Mr. Bridshaw that's a puttin' his head together with Miss Badlam for +somethin' or other, an' I don't believe there's no good in it, for what +does the fox an' the cat be a whisperin' about, as if they was thaves an' +incind'ries, if there ain't no mischief hatchin'?" + +"Why, Kitty," he said, "what mischief do you think is going on, and who +is to be harmed?" + +"O Mr. Gridley," she answered, "if there ain't somebody to be chated +somehow, then I don't know an honest man and woman from two rogues. An' +have n't I heard Miss Myrtle's name whispered as if there was somethin' +goin' on agin' her, an' they was afraid the tahk would go out through the +doors, an' up through the chimbley? I don't want to tell no tales, Mr. +Gridley, nor to hurt no honest body, for I'm a poor woman, Mr. Gridley, +but I comes of dacent folks, an' I vallies my repitation an' character as +much as if I was dressed in silks and satins instead of this mane old +gown, savin' your presence, which is the best I 've got, an' niver a +dollar to buy another. But if I iver I hears a word, Mr. Gridley, that +manes any kind of a mischief to Miss Myrtle,--the Lard bliss her soul an' +keep ahl the divils away from her!--I'll be runnin' straight down here to +tell ye ahl about it,--be right sure o' that, Mr. Gridley." + +"Nothing must happen to Myrtle," he said, "that we can help. If you see +anything more that looks wrong, you had better come down here at once and +let me know, as you say you will. At once, you understand. And, Kitty, I +am a little particular about the dress of people who come to see me, so +that if you would just take the trouble to get you a tidy pattern of +gingham or calico, or whatever you like of that sort for a gown, you +would please me; and perhaps this little trifle will be a convenience to +you when you come to pay for it." + +Kitty thanked him with all the national accompaniments, and trotted off +to the store, where Mr. Gifted Hopkins displayed the native amiability of +his temper by fumbling down everything in the shape of ginghams and +calicoes they had on the shelves, without a murmur at the taste of his +customer, who found it hard to get a pattern sufficiently emphatic for +her taste. She succeeded at last, and laid down a five-dollar bill as if +she were as used to the pleasing figure on its face as to the sight of +her own five digits. + +Master Byles Gridley had struck a spade deeper than he knew into his +first countermine, for Kitty had none of those delicate scruples about +the means of obtaining information which might have embarrassed a +diplomatist of higher degree. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +MR. BRADSHAW CALLS ON MISS BADLAM + +"Is Miss Hazard in, Kitty?" + +"Indade she's in, Mr. Bridshaw, but she won't see nobody." + +"What's the meaning of that, Kitty? Here is the third time within three +days you've told me I could n't see her. She saw Mr. Gridley yesterday, +I know; why won't she see me to-day?" + +"Y' must ask Miss Myrtle what the rason is, it's none o' my business, Mr. +Bridshaw. That's the order she give me." + +"Is Miss Badlam in?" + +Indade she's in, Mr. Bridshaw, an' I 'll go cahl her." + +"Bedad," said Kitty Fagan to herself, "the cat an' the fox is goin' to +have another o' thim big tahks togither, an' sure the old hole for the +stove-pipe has niver been stopped up yet." + +Mr. Bradshaw and Miss Cynthia went into the parlor together, and Mistress +Kitty retired to her kitchen. There was a deep closet belonging to this +apartment, separated by a partition from the parlor. There was a round +hole high up in this partition through which a stove-pipe had once +passed. Mistress Kitty placed a stool just under this opening, upon +which, as on a, pedestal, she posed herself with great precaution in the +attitude of the goddess of other people's secrets, that is to say, with +her head a little on one side, so as to bring her liveliest ear close to +the opening. The conversation which took place in the hearing of the +invisible third party began in a singularly free-and-easy manner on Mr. +Bradshaw's part. + +"What the d---is the reason I can't see Myrtle, Cynthia?" + +"That's more than I can tell you, Mr. Bradshaw. I can watch her goings +on, but I can't account for her tantrums." + +"You say she has had some of her old nervous whims,--has the doctor been +to see her?" + +"No indeed. She has kept to herself a good deal, but I don't think +there's anything in particular the matter with her. She looks +well enough, only she seems a little queer,--as girls do that +have taken a fancy into their heads that they're in love, you +know,--absent-minded,--does n't seem to be interested in things +as you would expect after being away so long." + +Mr. Bradshaw looked as if this did not please him particularly. If he +was the object of her thoughts she would not avoid him, surely. + +"Have you kept your eye on her steadily?" + +"I don't believe there is an hour we can't account for,--Kitty and I +between us." + +"Are you sure you can depend on Kitty?" + +["Depind on Kitty, is it? Oh, an' to be sure ye can depind on Kitty to +kape watch at the stove-pipe hole, an' to tell all y'r plottin's an' +contrivin's to them that'll get the cheese out o' y'r mousetrap for ye +before ye catch any poor cratur in it." This was the inaudible comment +of the unseen third party.] + +"Of course I can depend on her as far as I trust her. All she knows is +that she must look out for the girl to see that she does not run away or +do herself a mischief. The Biddies don't know much, but they know enough +to keep a watch on the--" + +"Chickens." Mr. Bradshaw playfully finished the sentence for Miss +Cynthia. + +["An' on the foxes, an' the cats, an' the wazels, an' the hen-hahks, an' +ahl the other bastes," added the invisible witness, in unheard +soliloquy.] + +"I ain't sure whether she's quite as stupid as she looks," said the +suspicious young lawyer. "There's a little cunning twinkle in her eye +sometimes that makes me think she might be up to a trick on occasion. +Does she ever listen about to hear what people are saying?" + +"Don't trouble yourself about Kitty Fagan,' for pity's sake, Mr. +Bradshaw. The Biddies are all alike, and they're all as stupid as owls, +except when you tell 'em just what to do, and how to do it. A pack of +priest-ridden fools!" + +The hot Celtic blood in Kitty Fagan's heart gave a leap. The stout +muscles gave an involuntary jerk. The substantial frame felt the thrill +all through, and the rickety stool on which she was standing creaked +sharply under its burden. + +Murray Bradshaw started. He got up and opened softly all the doors +leading from the room, one after another, and looked out. + +"I thought I heard a noise as if somebody was moving, Cynthia. It's just +as well to keep our own matters to ourselves." + +"If you wait till this old house keeps still, Mr. Bradshaw, you might as +well wait till the river has run by. It's as full of rats and mice as an +old cheese is of mites. There's a hundred old rats in this house, and +that's what you hear." + +["An' one old cat; that's what I hear." Third party.] + +"I told you, Cynthia, I must be off on this business to-morrow. I want +to know that everything is safe before I go. And, besides, I have got +something to say to you that's important, very important, mind you." + +He got up once more and opened every door softly and looked out. He +fixed his eye suspiciously on a large sofa at the other side of the room, +and went, looking half ashamed of his extreme precaution, and peeped +under it, to see if there was any one hidden thereto listen. Then he came +back and drew his chair close up to the table at which Miss Badlam had +seated herself. The conversation which followed was in a low tone, and a +portion of it must be given in another place in the words of the third +party. The beginning of it we are able to supply in this connection. + +"Look here, Cynthia; you know what I am going for. It's all right, I +feel sure, for I have had private means of finding out. It's a sure +thing; but I must go once more to see that the other fellows don't try +any trick on us. You understand what is for my advantage is for yours, +and, if I go wrong, you go overboard with me. Now I must leave the--you +know--behind me. I can't leave it in the house or the office: they might +burn up. I won't have it about me when I am travelling. Draw your chair +a little more this way. Now listen." + +["Indade I will," said the third party to herself. The reader will find +out in due time whether she listened to any purpose or not.] + +In the mean time Myrtle, who for some reason was rather nervous and +restless, had found a pair of half-finished slippers which she had left +behind her. The color came into her cheeks when she remembered the state +of mind she was in when she was working on them for the Rev. Mr. Stoker. +She recollected Master Gridley's mistake about their destination, and +determined to follow the hint he had given. It would please him better if +she sent them to good Father Pemberton, she felt sure, than if he should +get them himself. So she enlarged them somewhat, (for the old man did +not pinch his feet, as the younger clergyman was in the habit of doing, +and was, besides, of portly dimensions, as the old orthodox three-deckers +were apt to be,) and worked E. P. very handsomely into the pattern, and +sent them to him with her love and respect, to his great delight; for old +ministers do not have quite so many tokens of affection from fair hands +as younger ones. + +What made Myrtle nervous and restless? Why had she quitted the city so +abruptly, and fled to her old home, leaving all the gayeties behind her +which had so attracted and dazzled her? + +She had not betrayed herself at the third meeting with the young man who +stood in such an extraordinary relation to her,--who had actually given +her life from his own breath,--as when she met him for the second time. +Whether his introduction to her at the party, just at the instant when +Murray Bradshaw was about to make a declaration, saved her from being in +another moment the promised bride of that young gentleman, or not, we +will not be so rash as to say. It looked, certainly, as if he was in a +fair way to carry his point; but perhaps she would have hesitated, or +shrunk back, when the great question came to stare her in the face. + +She was excited, at any rate, by the conversation, so that, when Clement +was presented to her, her thoughts could not at once be all called away +from her other admirer, and she was saved from all danger of that sudden +disturbance which had followed their second meeting. Whatever impression +he made upon her developed itself gradually,--still, she felt strangely +drawn towards him. It was not simply in his good looks, in his good +manners, in his conversation, that she found this attraction, but there +was a singular fascination which she felt might be dangerous to her +peace, without explaining it to herself in words. She could hardly be in +love with this young artist; she knew that his affections were plighted +to another, a fact which keeps most young women from indulging unruly +fancies; yet her mind was possessed by his image to such an extent that +it left little room for that of Mr. William Murray Bradshaw. + +Myrtle Hazard had been just ready to enter on a career of worldly vanity +and ambition. It is hard to blame her, for we know how she came by the +tendency. She had every quality, too, which fitted her to shine in the +gay world; and the general law is, that those who have the power have the +instinct to use it. We do not suppose that the bracelet on her arm was +an amulet, but it was a symbol. It reminded her of her descent; it kept +alive the desire to live over the joys and excitements of a bygone +generation. If she had accepted Murray Bradshaw, she would have pledged +herself to a worldly life. If she had refused him, it would perhaps have +given her a taste of power that might have turned her into a coquette. + +This new impression saved her for the time. She had come back to her +nest in the village like a frightened bird; her heart was throbbing, her +nerves were thrilling, her dreams were agitated; she wanted to be quiet, +and could not listen to the flatteries or entreaties of her old lover. + +It was a strong will and a subtle intellect that had arrayed their force +and skill against the ill-defended citadel of Myrtle's heart. Murray +Bradshaw was perfectly determined, and not to be kept back by any trivial +hindrances, such as her present unwillingness to accept him, or even her +repugnance to him, if a freak of the moment had carried her so far. It +was a settled thing: Myrtle Hazard must become Mrs. Bradshaw; and nobody +could deny that, if he gave her his name, they had a chance, at least, +for a brilliant future. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +MISTRESS KITTY FAGAN CALLS ON MASTER BYLES GRIDLEY. + +"I 'd like to go down to the store this mornin', Miss Withers, plase. +Sure I've niver a shoe to my fut, only jist these two that I've got on, +an' one other pair, and thim is so full of holes that whin I 'm standin' +in 'em I'm outside of 'em intirely." + +"You can go, Kitty," Miss Silence answered, funereally. + +Thereupon Kitty Fagan proceeded to array herself in her most tidy +apparel, including a pair of shoes not exactly answering to her +description, and set out straight for the house of the Widow Hopkins. +Arrived at that respectable mansion, she inquired for Mr. Gridley, and +was informed that he was at home. Had a message for him,--could she see +him in his study? She could if she would wait a little while. Mr. +Gridley was busy just at this minute. Sit down, Kitty, and warm yourself +at the cooking-stove. + +Mistress Kitty accepted Mrs. Hopkins's hospitable offer, and presently +began orienting herself, and getting ready to make herself agreeable. +The kindhearted Mrs. Hopkins had gathered about her several other +pensioners besides the twins. These two little people, it may be here +mentioned, were just taking a morning airing in charge of Susan Posey, +who strolled along in company with Gifted Hopkins on his way to the +store. + +Mistress Kitty soon began the conversational blandishments so natural to +her good-humored race. "It's a little blarney that'll jist suit th' old +lady," she said to herself, as she made her first conciliatory advance. + +"An' sure an' it's a beautiful kitten you've got there, Mrs. Hopkins. An' +it's a splendid mouser she is, I'll be bound. Does n't she look as if +she'd clans the house out o'them little bastes, bad luck to em." + +Mrs. Hopkins looked benignantly upon the more than middle-aged tabby, +slumbering as if she had never known an enemy, and turned smiling to +Mistress Kitty. "Why, bless your heart, Kitty, our old puss would n't +know a mouse by sight, if you showed her one. If I was a mouse, I'd as +lieves have a nest in one of that old cat's ears as anywhere else. You +couldn't find a safer place for one." + +"Indade, an' to be sure she's too big an' too handsome a pussy to be +after wastin' her time on them little bastes. It's that little tarrier +dog of yours, Mrs. Hopkins, that will be after worryin' the mice an' the +rats, an' the thaves too, I 'll warrant. Is n't he a fust-rate-lookin' +watch-dog, an' a rig'ler rat-hound?" + +Mrs. Hopkins looked at the little short-legged and short-winded animal of +miscellaneous extraction with an expression of contempt and affection, +mingled about half and half. "Worry 'em! If they wanted to sleep, I +rather guess he would worry 'em! If barkin' would do their job for 'em, +nary a mouse nor rat would board free gratis in my house as they do now. +Noisy little good-for-nothing tike,--ain't you, Fret?" + +Mistress Kitty was put back a little by two such signal failures. There +was another chance, however, to make her point, which she presently +availed herself of,--feeling pretty sure this time that she should effect +a lodgement. Mrs. Hopkins's parrot had been observing Kitty, first with +one eye and then with the other, evidently preparing to make a remark, +but awkward with a stranger. "That 's a beautiful part y 've got there," +Kitty said, buoyant with the certainty that she was on safe ground this +time; "and tahks like a book, I 'll be bound. Poll! Poll! Poor Poll!" + +She put forth her hand to caress the intelligent and affable bird, which, +instead of responding as expected, "squawked," as our phonetic language +has it, and, opening a beak imitated from a tooth-drawing instrument of +the good old days, made a shrewd nip at Kitty's forefinger. She drew it +back with a jerk. + +"An' is that the way your part tahks, Mrs. Hopkins?" + +"Talks, bless you, Kitty! why, that parrot hasn't said a word this ten +year. He used to say Poor Poll! when we first had him, but he found it +was easier to squawk, and that's all he ever does nowadays,--except bite +once in a while." + +"Well, an' to be sure," Kitty answered, radiant as she rose from her +defeats, "if you'll kape a cat that does n't know a mouse when she sees +it, an' a dog that only barks for his livin', and a part that only +squawks an' bites an' niver spakes a word, ye must be the best-hearted +woman that's alive, an' bliss ye, if ye was only a good Catholic, the +Holy Father 'd make a saint of ye in less than no time!" + +So Mistress Kitty Fagan got in her bit of Celtic flattery, in spite of +her three successive discomfitures. + +"You may come up now, Kitty," said Mr. Gridley over the stairs. He had +just finished and sealed a letter. + +"Well, Kitty, how are things going on up at The Poplars? And how does +our young lady seem to be of late?" + +"Whisht! whisht! your honor." + +Mr. Bradshaw's lessons had not been thrown away on his attentive +listener. She opened every door in the room, "by your lave," as she +said. She looked all over the walls to see if there was any old +stovepipe hole or other avenue to eye or ear. Then she went, in her +excess of caution, to the window. She saw nothing noteworthy except Mr. +Gifted Hopkins and the charge he convoyed, large and small, in the +distance. The whole living fleet was stationary for the moment, he +leaning on the fence with his cheek on his hand, in one of the attitudes +of the late Lord Byron; she, very near him, listening, apparently, in the +pose of Mignon aspirant au ciel, as rendered by Carlo Dolce Scheffer. + +Kitty came back, apparently satisfied, and stood close to Mr. Gridley, +who told her to sit down, which she did, first making a catch at her +apron to dust the chair with, and then remembering that she had left that +part of her costume at home.--Automatic movements, curious. + +Mistress Kitty began telling in an undertone of the meeting between Mr. +Bradshaw and Miss Badlam, and of the arrangements she made for herself as +the reporter of the occasion. She then repeated to him, in her own way, +that part of the conversation which has been already laid before the +reader. There is no need of going over the whole of this again in +Kitty's version, but we may fit what followed into the joints of what has +been already told. + +"He cahled her Cynthy, d' ye see, Mr. Gridley, an' tahked to her jist as +asy as if they was two rogues, and she knowed it as well as he did. An' +so, says he, I'm goin' away, says he, an' I'm goin' to be gahn siveral +days, or perhaps longer, says he, an' you'd better kape it, says he." + +"Keep what, Kitty? What was it he wanted her to keep?" said Mr. Gridley, +who no longer doubted that he was on the trail of a plot, and meant to +follow it. He was getting impatient with the "says he's" with which +Kitty double-leaded her discourse. + +"An' to be sure ain't I tellin' you, Mr. Gridley, jist as fast as my +breath will let me? An' so, says he, you'd better kape it, says he, +mixed up with your other paupers, says he," (Mr. Gridley started,) "an' +thin we can find it in the garret, says he, whinever we want it, says he. +An' if it all goes right out there, says he, it won't be lahng before we +shall want to find it, says he. And I can dipind on you, says he, for +we're both in the same boat, says he, an' you knows what I knows, says +he, an' I knows what you knows, says be. And thin he taks a stack o' +paupers out of his pocket, an' he pulls out one of 'em, an' he says to +her, says he, that's the pauper, says he, an' if you die, says be, niver +lose sight of that day or night, says he, for it's life an' dith to both +of us, says he. An' thin he asks her if she has n't got one o' them +paupers--what is 't they cahls 'em?--divilops, or some sich kind of a +name--that they wraps up their letters in; an' she says no, she has n't +got none that's big enough to hold it. So he says, give me a shate o' +pauper, says he. An' thin he takes the pauper that she give him, an' he +folds it up like one o' them--divilops, if that's the name of 'em; and +thin he pulls a stick o' salin'-wax out of his pocket, an' a stamp, an' +he takes the pauper an' puts it into th' other pauper, along with the +rest of the paupers, an' thin he folds th' other pauper over the paupers, +and thin he lights a candle, an' he milts the salin'-wax, and he sales up +the pauper that was outside th' other paupers, an' he writes on the back +of the pauper, an' thin he hands it to Miss Badlam." + +"Did you see the paper that he showed her before he fastened it up with +the others, Kitty?" + +"I did see it, indade, Mr. Gridley, and it's the truth I'm tellin' ye." + +"Did you happen to notice anything about it, Kitty?" + +"I did, indade, Mr. Gridley. It was a longish kind of a pauper, and +there was some blotches of ink on the back of it,--an' they looked like a +face without any mouth, for, says I, there's two spots for the eyes, says +I, and there's a spot for the nose, says I, and there's niver a spot for +the mouth, says I." + +This was the substance of what Master Byles Gridley got out of Kitty +Fagan. It was enough, yes, it was too much. There was some deep-laid +plot between Murray Bradshaw and Cynthia Badlam, involving the interests +of some of the persons connected with the late Malachi Withers; for that +the paper described by Kitty was the same that he had seen the young man +conceal in the Corpus Juris Civilis, it was impossible to doubt. If it +had been a single spot an the back of it, or two, he might have doubted. +But three large spots "blotches" she had called them, disposed thus +*.* --would not have happened to be on two different papers, in all human +probability. + +After grave consultation of all his mental faculties in committee of the +whole, he arrived at the following conclusion,--that Miss Cynthia Badlam +was the depositary of a secret involving interests which he felt it his +business to defend, and of a document which was fraudulently withheld and +meant to be used for some unfair purpose. And most assuredly, Master +Gridley said to himself, he held a master-key, which, just so certainly +as he could make up his mind to use it, would open any secret in the +keeping of Miss Cynthia Badlam. + +He proceeded, therefore, without delay, to get ready for a visit to that +lady at The Poplars. He meant to go thoroughly armed, for he was a very +provident old gentleman. His weapons were not exactly of the kind which +a housebreaker would provide himself with, but of a somewhat peculiar +nature. + +Weapon number one was a slip of paper with a date and a few words written +upon it. "I think this will fetch the document," he said to himself, "if +it comes to the worst. Not if I can help it,--not if I can help it. But +if I cannot get at the heart of this thing otherwise, why, I must come to +this. Poor woman!--Poor woman!" + +Weapon number two was a small phial containing spirits of hartshorn, sal +volatile, very strong, that would stab through the nostrils, like a +stiletto, deep into the gray kernels that lie in the core of the brain. +Excellent in cases of sudden syncope or fainting, such as sometimes +require the opening of windows, the dashing on of cold water, the cutting +of stays, perhaps, with a scene of more or less tumultuous perturbation +and afflux of clamorous womanhood. + +So armed, Byles Gridley, A. M., champion of unprotected innocence, +grasped his ivory-handled cane and sallied forth on his way to The +Poplars. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +MASTER BYLES GRIDLEY CALLS ON MISS CYNTHIA BADLAM. + +MISS Cynthia Badlam was seated in a small parlor which she was accustomed +to consider her own during her long residences at The Poplars. The entry +stove warmed it but imperfectly, and she looked pinched and cold, for the +evenings were still pretty sharp, and the old house let in the chill +blasts, as old houses are in the habit of doing. She was sitting at her +table, with a little trunk open before her. She had taken some papers +from it, which she was looking over, when a knock at her door announced a +visitor, and Master Byles Gridley entered the parlor. + +As he came into the room, she gathered the papers together and replaced +them in the trunk, which she locked, throwing an unfinished piece of +needle-work over it, putting the key in her pocket, and gathering herself +up for company. Something of all this Master Gridley saw through his +round spectacles, but seemed not to see, and took his seat like a visitor +making a call of politeness. + +A visitor at such an hour, of the male sex, without special provocation, +without social pretext, was an event in the life of the desolate +spinster. Could it be--No, it could not--and yet--and yet! Miss Cynthia +threw back the rather common-looking but comfortable shawl which covered +her shoulders, and showed her quite presentable figure, arrayed with a +still lingering thought of that remote contingency which might yet offer +itself at some unexpected moment; she adjusted the carefully plaited cap, +which was not yet of the lasciate ogni speranza pattern, and as she +obeyed these instincts of her sex, she smiled a welcome to the +respectable, learned, and independent bachelor. Mr. Gridley had a frosty +but kindly age before him, with a score or so of years to run, which it +was after all not strange to fancy might be rendered more cheerful by the +companionship of a well-conserved and amiably disposed woman, if any such +should happen to fall in his way. + +That smile came very near disconcerting the plot of Master Byles Gridley. +He had come on an inquisitor's errand, his heart secure, as he thought, +against all blandishments, his will steeled to break down all resistance. +He had come armed with an instrument of torture worse than the +thumb-screw, worse than the pulleys which attempt the miracle of adding a +cubit to the stature, worse than the brazier of live coals brought close +to the naked soles of the feet,--an instrument which, instead of trifling +with the nerves, would clutch all the nerve-centres and the heart itself +in its gripe, and hold them until it got its answer, if the white lips +had life enough left to shape one. And here was this unfortunate maiden +lady smiling at him, setting her limited attractions in their best light, +pleading with him in that natural language which makes any contumacious +bachelor feel as guilty as Cain before any single woman. If Mr. Gridley +had been alone, he would have taken a good sniff at his own bottle of sal +volatile; for his kind heart sunk within him as he thought of the errand +upon which he had come. It would not do to leave the subject of his +vivisection under any illusion as to the nature of his designs. + +"Good evening, Miss Badlam," he said, "I have come to visit you on a +matter of business." + +What was the internal panorama which had unrolled itself at the instant +of his entrance, and which rolled up as suddenly at the sound of his +serious voice and the look of his grave features? It cannot be +reproduced, though pages were given to it; for some of the pictures were +near, and some were distant; some were clearly seen, and some were only +hinted; some were not recognized in the intellect at all, and yet they +were implied, as it were, behind the others. Many times we have all found +ourselves glad or sorry, and yet we could not tell what thought it was +that reflected the sunbeam or cast the shadow. Took into Cynthia's +suddenly exalted consciousness and see the picture, actual and potential, +unroll itself in all its details of the natural, the ridiculous, the +selfish, the pitiful, the human. Glimpses, hints, echoes, suggestions, +involving tender sentiments hitherto unknown, we may suppose, to that +unclaimed sister's breast,--pleasant excitement of receiving +congratulations from suddenly cordial friends; the fussy delights of +buying furniture and shopping for new dresses,--(it seemed as if she +could hear herself saying, "Heavy silks,--best goods, if you +please,")--with delectable thumping down of flat-sided pieces of calico, +cambric, "rep," and other stiffs, and rhythmic evolution of measured +yards, followed by sharp snip of scissors, and that cry of rending +tissues dearer to woman's ear than any earthly sound until she hears +the voice of her own first-born,(much of this potentially, +remember,)--thoughts of a comfortable settlement, an imposing social +condition, a cheerful household, and by and by an Indian summer of serene +widowhood,--all these, and infinite other involved possibilities had +mapped themselves in one long swift flash before Cynthia's inward eye, +and all vanished as the old man spoke those few words. The look on his +face, and the tone of his cold speech, had instantly swept them all away, +like a tea-set sliding in a single crash from a slippery tray. + +What could be the "business" on which he had come to her with that solemn +face?--she asked herself, as she returned his greeting and offered him a +chair. She was conscious of a slight tremor as she put this question to +her own intelligence. + +"Are we like to be alone and undisturbed?" Mr. Gridley asked. It was a +strange question,--men do act strangely sometimes. She hardly knew. +whether to turn red or white. + +"Yes, there is nobody like to come in at present," she answered. She did +not know what to make of it. What was coming next,--a declaration, or an +accusation of murder? + +"My business," Mr. Gridley said, very gravely, "relates to this. I wish +to inspect papers which I have reason to believe exist, and which have +reference to the affairs of the late Malachi Withers. Can you help me to +get sight of any of these papers not to be found at the Registry of Deeds +or the Probate Office?" + +"Excuse me, Mr. Gridley, but may I ask you what particular concern you +have with the affairs of my relative, Cousin Malachi Withers, that's been +dead and buried these half-dozen years?" + +"Perhaps it would take some time to answer that question fully, Miss +Badlam. Some of these affairs do concern those I am interested in, if +not myself directly." + +"May I ask who the person or persons may be on whose account you wish to +look at papers belonging to my late relative, Malachi Withers?" + +"You can ask me almost anything, Miss Badlam, but I should really be very +much obliged if you would answer my question first. Can you help me to +get a sight of any papers relating to the estate of Malachi Withers, not +to be found at the Registry of Deeds or the Probate Office,--any of which +you may happen to have any private and particular knowledge?" + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Gridley; but I don't understand why you come to +me with such questions. Lawyer Penhallow is the proper person, I should +think, to go to. He and his partner that was--Mr. Wibird, you +know--settled the estate, and he has got the papers, I suppose, if there +are any, that ain't to be found in the offices you mention." + +Mr. Gridley moved his chair a little, so as to bring Miss Badlam's face a +little more squarely in view. + +"Does Mr. William Murray Bradshaw know anything about any papers, such as +I am referring to, that may have been sent to the office?" + +The lady felt a little moisture stealing through all her pores, and at +the same time a certain dryness of the vocal organs, so that her answer +came in a slightly altered tone which neither of them could help +noticing. + +"You had better ask Mr. William Murray Bradshaw yourself about that," she +answered. She felt the hook now, and her spines were rising, partly with +apprehension, partly with irritation. + +"Has that young gentleman ever delivered into your hands any papers +relating to the affairs of the late Malachi Withers, for your safe +keeping?" + +"What do you mean by asking me these questions, Mr. Gridley? I don't +choose to be catechised about Murray Bradshaw's business. Go to him, if +you please, if you want to find out about it." + +"Excuse my persistence, Miss Badlam, but I must prevail upon you to +answer my question. Has Mr. William Murray Bradshaw ever delivered into +your hands any papers relating to the affairs of the late Malachi +Withers, for your safe keeping?" + +"Do you suppose I am going to answer such questions as you are putting me +because you repeat them over, Mr. Gridley? Indeed I cha'n't. Ask him, +if you please, whatever you wish to know about his doings." + +She drew herself up and looked savagely at him. She had talked herself +into her courage. There was a color in her cheeks and a sparkle in her +eye; she looked dangerous as a cobra. + +"Miss Cynthia Badlam," Master Gridley said, very deliberately, "I am +afraid we do not entirely understand each other. You must answer my +question precisely, categorically, point-blank, and on the instant. Will +you do this at once, or will you compel me to show you the absolute +necessity of your doing it, at the expense of pain to both of us? Six +words from me will make you answer all my questions." + +"You can't say six words, nor sixty, Mr. Gridley, that will make me +answer one question I do not choose to. I defy you!" + +"I will not say one, Miss Cynthia Badlam. There are some things one does +not like to speak in words. But I will show you a scrap of paper, +containing just six words and a date; not one word more nor one less. +You shall read them. Then I will burn the paper in the flame of your +lamp. As soon after that as you feel ready, I will ask the same question +again." + +Master Gridley took out from his pocket-book a scrap of paper, and handed +it to Cynthia Badlam. Her hand shook as she received it, for she was +frightened as well as enraged, and she saw that Mr. Gridley was in +earnest and knew what he was doing. + +She read the six words, he looking at her steadily all the time, and +watching her as if he had just given her a drop of prussic acid. + +No cry. No sound from her lips. She stared as if half stunned for one +moment, then turned her head and glared at Mr. Gridley as if she would +have murdered him if she dared. In another instant her face whitened, +the scrap of paper fluttered to the floor, and she would have followed it +but for the support of both Mr. Gridley's arms. He disengaged one of +them presently, and felt in his pocket for the sal volatile. It served +him excellently well, and stung her back again to her senses very +quickly. All her defiant aspect had gone. + +"Look!" he said, as he lighted the scrap of paper in the flame. "You +understand me, and you see that I must be answered the next time I ask my +question." + +She opened her lips as if to speak. It was as when a bell is rung in a +vacuum,--no words came from them,--only a faint gasping sound, an effort +at speech. She was caught tight in the heart-screw. + +"Don't hurry yourself, Miss Cynthia," he said, with a certain relenting +tenderness of manner. "Here, take another sniff of the smelling-salts. +Be calm, be quiet,--I am well disposed towards you,--I don't like to give +you trouble. There, now, I must have the answer to that question; but +take your time, take your time." + +"Give me some water,--some water!" she said, in a strange hoarse whisper. +There was a pitcher of water and a tumbler on an old marble sideboard +near by. He filled the tumbler, and Cynthia emptied it as if she had +just been taken from the rack, and could have swallowed a bucketful. + +"What do you want to know?" she asked. + +"I wish to know all that you can tell me about a certain paper, or +certain papers, which I have reason to believe Mr. William Murray +Bradshaw committed to your keeping." + +"There is only one paper of any consequence. Do you want to make him +kill me? or do you want to make me kill myself?" + +"Neither, Miss Cynthia, neither. I wish to see that paper, but not for +any bad purpose. Don't you think, on the whole, you have pretty good +reason to trust me? I am a very quiet man, Miss Cynthia. Don't be +afraid of me; only do what I ask,--it will be a great deal better for you +in the end." + +She thrust her trembling hand into her pocket, and took out the key of +the little trunk. She drew the trunk towards her, put the key in the +lock, and opened it. It seemed like pressing a knife into her own bosom +and turning the blade. That little trunk held all the records of her +life the forlorn spinster most cherished;--a few letters that came nearer +to love-letters than any others she had ever received; an album, with +flowers of the summers of 1840 and 1841 fading between its leaves; two +papers containing locks of hair, half of a broken ring, and other +insignificant mementos which had their meaning, doubtless, to her,--such +a collection as is often priceless to one human heart, and passed by as +worthless in the auctioneer's inventory. She took the papers out +mechanically, and laid them on the table. Among them was an oblong +packet, sealed with what appeared to be the office seal of Messrs. +Penhallow and Bradshaw. + +"Will you allow me to take that envelope containing papers, Miss Badlam?" +Mr. Gridley asked, with a suavity and courtesy in his tone and manner +that showed how he felt for her sex and her helpless position. + +She seemed to obey his will as if she had none of her own left. She +passed the envelope to him, and stared at him vacantly while he examined +it. He read on the back of the package: "Withers Estate--old papers--of +no importance apparently. Examine hereafter." + +"May I ask when, where, and of whom you obtained these papers, Miss +Badlam?" + +"Have pity on me, Mr. Gridley,--have pity on me. I am a lost woman if +you do not. Spare me! for God's sake, spare me! There will no wrong +come of all this, if you will but wait a little while. The paper will +come to light when it is wanted, and all will be right. But do not make +me answer any more questions, and let me keep this paper. O Mr. Gridley! +I am in the power of a dreadful man--" + +"You mean Mr. William Murray Bradshaw?" + +"I mean him." + +"Has there not been some understanding between you that he should become +the approved suitor of Miss Myrtle Hazard?" + +Cynthia wrung her hands and rocked herself backward and forward in her +misery, but answered not a word. What could she answer, if she had +plotted with this "dreadful man" against a young and innocent girl, to +deliver her over into his hands, at the risk of all her earthly hopes and +happiness? + +Master Gridley waited long and patiently for any answer she might have +the force to make. As she made none, he took upon himself to settle the +whole matter without further torture of his helpless victim. + +"This package must go into the hands of the parties who had the +settlement of the estate of the late Malachi Withers. Mr. Penhallow is +the survivor of the two gentlemen to whom that business was intrusted. +How long is Mr. William Murray Bradshaw like to be away?" + +"Perhaps a few days,--perhaps weeks,--and then he will come back and kill +me,--or--or--worse! Don't take that paper, Mr. Gridley,--he isn't like +you! you would n't--but he would--he would send me to everlasting misery +to gain his own end, or to save himself. And yet he is n't every way +bad, and if he did marry Myrtle she'd think there never was such a +man,--for he can talk her heart out of her, and the wicked in him lies +very deep and won't ever come out, perhaps, if the world goes right with +him." The last part of this sentence showed how Cynthia talked with her +own conscience; all her mental and moral machinery lay open before the +calm eyes of Master Byles Gridley. + +His thoughts wandered a moment from the business before him; he had just +got a new study of human nature, which in spite of himself would be +shaping itself into an axiom for an imagined new edition of "Thoughts on +the Universe," something like this, "The greatest saint may be a sinner +that never got down to "hard pan." It was not the time to be framing +axioms. + +"Poh! poh!" he said to himself; "what are you about making phrases, when +you have got a piece of work like this in hand?" Then to Cynthia, with +great gentleness and kindness of manner: "Have no fear about any +consequences to yourself. Mr. Penhallow must see that paper--I mean +those papers. You shall not be a loser nor a sufferer if you do your +duty now in these premises." + +Master Gridley, treating her, as far as circumstances permitted, like a +gentleman, had shown no intention of taking the papers either stealthily +or violently. It must be with her consent. He had laid the package down +upon the table, waiting for her to give him leave to take it. But just +as he spoke these last words, Cynthia, whose eye had been glancing +furtively at it while he was thinking out his axiom, and taking her +bearings to it pretty carefully, stretched her hand out, and, seizing the +package, thrust it into the sanctuary of her bosom. + +"Mr. Penhallow must see those papers, Miss Cynthia Badlam," Mr. Gridley +repeated calmly. "If he says they or any of them can be returned to your +keeping, well and good. But see them he must, for they have his office +seal and belong in his custody, and, as you see by the writing on the +back, they have not been examined. Now there may be something among them +which is of immediate importance to the relatives of the late deceased +Malachi Withers, and therefore they must be forthwith submitted to the +inspection of the surviving partner of the firm of Wibird and Penhallow. +This I propose to do, with your consent, this evening. It is now +twenty-five minutes past eight by the true time, as my watch has it. +At half past eight exactly I shall have the honor of bidding you good +evening, Miss Cynthia Badlam, whether you give me those papers or not. I +shall go to the office of Jacob Penhallow, Esquire, and there make one of +two communications to him; to wit, these papers and the facts connected +therewith, or another statement, the nature of which you may perhaps +conjecture." + +There is no need of our speculating as to what Mr. Byles Gridley, an +honorable and humane man, would have done, or what would have been the +nature of that communication which he offered as an alternative to the +perplexed woman. He had not at any rate miscalculated the strength of +his appeal, which Cynthia interpreted as he expected. She bore the +heart-screw about two minutes. Then she took the package from her bosom, +and gave it with averted face to Master Byles Gridley, who, on receiving +it, made her a formal but not unkindly bow, and bade her good evening. + +"One would think it had been lying out in the dew," he said, as he left +the house and walked towards Mr. Penhallow's residence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +MASTER BYLES GRIDLEY CONSULTS WITH JACOB PENHALLOW, ESQUIRE + +Lawyer Penhallow was seated in his study, his day's work over, his feet +in slippers, after the comfortable but inelegant fashion which Sir Walter +Scott reprobates, amusing himself with a volume of old Reports. He was a +knowing man enough, a keen country lawyer but honest, and therefore less +ready to suspect the honesty of others. He had a great belief in his +young partner's ability, and, though he knew him to be astute, did not +think him capable of roguery. + +It was at his request that Mr. Bradshaw had undertaken his journey, +which, as he believed,--and as Mr. Bradshaw had still stronger evidence +of a strictly confidential nature which led him to feel sure,--would end +in the final settlement of the great land claim in favor of their client. +The case had been dragging along from year to year, like an English +chancery suit; and while courts and lawyers and witnesses had been +sleeping, the property had been steadily growing. A railroad had passed +close to one margin of the township, some mines had been opened in the +county, in which a village calling itself a city had grown big enough to +have a newspaper and Fourth of July orations. It was plain that the +successful issue of the long process would make the heirs of the late +Malachi Withers possessors of an ample fortune, and it was also plain +that the firm of Penhallow and Bradshaw were like to receive, in such +case, the largest fee that had gladdened the professional existence of +its members. + +Mr. Penhallow had his book open before him, but his thoughts were +wandering from the page. He was thinking of his absent partner, and the +probable results of his expedition. What would be the consequence if all +this property came into the possession of Silence Withers? Could she +have any liberal intentions with reference to Myrtle Hazard, the young +girl who had grown up with her, or was the common impression true, that +she was bent on endowing an institution, and thus securing for herself a +favorable consideration in the higher courts, where her beneficiaries +would be, it might be supposed, influential advocates? He could not help +thinking that Mr. Bradshaw believed that Myrtle Hazard would eventually +come to apart at least of this inheritance. For the story was, that he +was paying his court to the young lady whenever he got an opportunity, +and that he was cultivating an intimacy with Miss Cynthia Badlam. +"Bradshaw would n'tmake a move in that direction," Mr. Penhallow said to +himself, "until he felt pretty sure that it was going to be a paying +business. If he was only a young minister now, there'd be no difficulty +about it. Let any man, young or old, in a clerical white cravat, step up +to Myrtle Hazard, and ask her to be miserable in his company through this +wretched life, and aunt Silence would very likely give them her blessing, +and add something to it that the man in the white cravat would think +worth even more than that was. But I don't know what she'll say to +Bradshaw. Perhaps he 'd better have a hint to go to meeting a little +more regularly. However, I suppose he knows what he's about." + +He was thinking all this over when a visitor was announced, and Mr. Byles +Gridley entered the study. + +"Good evening, Mr. Penhallow," Mr. Gridley said, wiping his forehead. +"Quite warm, is n't it, this evening?" + +"Warm!" said Mr. Penhallow, "I should think it would freeze pretty thick +to-night. I should have asked you to come up to the fire and warm +yourself. But take off your coat, Mr. Gridley,--very glad to see you. +You don't come to the house half as often as you come to the office. Sit +down, sit down." + +Mr. Gridley took off his outside coat and sat down. "He does look warm, +does n't he?" Mr. Penhallow thought. "Wonder what has heated up the old +gentleman so. Find out quick enough, for he always goes straight to +business." + +"Mr. Penhallow," Mr. Gridley began at once, "I have come on a very grave +matter, in which you are interested as well as myself, and I wish to lay +the whole of it before you as explicitly as I can, so that we may settle +this night before I go what is to be done. I am afraid the good standing +of your partner, Mr. William Murray Bradshaw, is concerned in the matter. +Would it be a surprise to you, if he had carried his acuteness in some +particular case like the one I am to mention beyond the prescribed +limits?" + +The question was put so diplomatically that there was no chance for an +indignant denial of the possibility of Mr. Bradshaw's being involved in +any discreditable transaction. + +"It is possible," he answered, "that Bradshaw's keen wits may have +betrayed him into sharper practice than I should altogether approve in +any business we carried on together. He is a very knowing young man, but +I can't think he is foolish enough, to say nothing of his honesty, to +make any false step of the kind you seem to hint. I think he might on +occasion go pretty near the line, but I don't believe he would cross it." + +"Permit me a few questions, Mr. Penhallow. You settled the estate of the +late Malachi Withers, did you not?" + +"Mr. Wibird and myself settled it together." + +"Have you received any papers from any of the family since the settlement +of the estate?" + +"Let me see. Yes; a roll of old plans of the Withers Place, and so +forth,--not of much use, but labelled and kept. An old trunk with +letters and account-books, some of them in Dutch,--mere curiosities. A +year ago or more, I remember that Silence sent me over some papers she +had found in an odd corner,--the old man hid things like a magpie. I +looked over most of them,--trumpery not worth keeping,--old leases and so +forth." + +"Do you recollect giving some of them to Mr. Bradshaw to look over?" + +"Now I come to think of it, I believe I did; but he reported to me, if I +remember right, that they amounted to nothing." + +"If any of those papers were of importance, should you think your junior +partner ought to keep them from your knowledge?" + +"I need not answer that question, Mr. Gridley. Will you be so good as to +come at once to the facts on which you found your suspicions, and which +lead you to put these questions to me?" + +Thereupon Mr. Gridley proceeded to state succinctly the singular behavior +of Murray Bradshaw in taking one paper from a number handed to him by Mr. +Penhallow, and concealing it in a volume. He related how he was just on +the point of taking out the volume which contained the paper, when Mr. +Bradshaw entered and disconcerted him. He had, however, noticed three +spots on the paper by which he should know it anywhere. He then repeated +the substance of Kitty Fagan's story, accenting the fact that she too +noticed three remarkable spots on the paper which Mr. Bradshaw had +pointed out to Miss Badlam as the one so important to both of them. Here +he rested the case for the moment. + +Mr. Penhallow looked thoughtful. There was something questionable in the +aspect of this business. It did obviously suggest the idea of an +underhand arrangement with Miss Cynthia, possibly involving some very +grave consequences. It would have been most desirable, he said, to have +ascertained what these papers, or rather this particular paper, to which +so much importance was attached, amounted to. Without that knowledge +there was nothing, after all, which it might not be possible to explain. +He might have laid aside the spotted paper to examine for some object of +mere curiosity. It was certainly odd that the one the Fagan woman had +seen should present three spots so like those on the other paper, but +people did sometimes throw treys at backgammon, and that which not rarely +happened with two dice of six faces might happen if they had sixty or six +hundred faces. On the whole, he did not see that there was any ground, +so far, for anything more than a vague suspicion. He thought it not +unlikely that Mr. Bradshaw was a little smitten with the young lady up at +The Poplars, and that he had made some diplomatic overtures to the +duenna, after the approved method of suitors. She was young for +Bradshaw,--very young,--but he knew his own affairs. If he chose to make +love to a child, it was natural enough that he should begin by courting +her nurse. + +Master Byles Gridley lost himself for half a minute in a most +discreditable inward discussion as to whether Laura Penhallow was +probably one or two years older than Mr. Bradshaw. That was his way, he +could not help it. He could not think of anything without these mental +parentheses. But he came back to business at the end of his half-minute. + +"I can lay the package before you at this moment, Mr. Penhallow. I have +induced that woman in whose charge it was left to intrust it to my +keeping, with the express intention of showing it to you. But it is +protected by a seal, as I have told you, which I should on no account +presume to meddle with." + +Mr. Gridley took out the package of papers. + +"How damp it is!" Mr. Penhallow said; "must have been lying in some very +moist neighborhood." + +"Very," Mr. Gridley answered, with a peculiar expression which said, +"Never mind about that." + +"Did the party give you possession of these documents without making any +effort to retain them?" the lawyer asked. + +"Not precisely. It cost some effort to induce Miss Badlam to let them go +out of her hands. I hope you think I was justified in making the effort +I did, not without a considerable strain upon my feelings, as well as her +own, to get hold of the papers?" + +"That will depend something on what the papers prove to be, Mr. Gridley. +A man takes a certain responsibility in doing just what you have done. +If, for instance, it should prove that this envelope contained matters +relating solely to private transactions between Mr. Bradshaw and Miss +Badlam, concerning no one but themselves,--and if the words on the back +of the envelope and the seal had been put there merely as a protection +for a package containing private papers of a delicate but perfectly +legitimate character--" + +The lawyer paused, as careful experts do, after bending the bow of an +hypothesis, before letting the arrow go. Mr. Gridley felt very warm +indeed, uncomfortably so, and applied his handkerchief to his face. Could +n't be anything in such a violent supposition as that, and yet such a +crafty fellow as that Bradshaw,--what trick was he not up to? Absurd! +Cynthia was not acting,--Rachel would n't be equal to such a +performance!--"why then, Mr. Gridley," the lawyer continued, "I don't +see but what my partner would have you at an advantage, and, if disposed +to make you uncomfortable, could do so pretty effectively. But this, you +understand, is only a supposed case, and not a very likely one. I don't +think it would have been prudent in you to meddle with that seal. But +it is a very different matter with regard to myself. It makes no +difference, so far as I am concerned, where this package came from, or +how it was obtained. It is just as absolutely within my control as any +piece of property I call my own. I should not hesitate, if I saw fit, to +break this seal at once, and proceed to the examination of any papers +contained within the envelope. If I found any paper of the slightest +importance relating to the estate, I should act as if it had never been +out of my possession. + +"Suppose, however, I chose to know what was in the package, and, having +ascertained, act my judgment about returning it to the party from whom +you obtained it. In such case I might see fit to restore or cause it to +be restored, to the party, without any marks of violence having been used +being apparent. If everything is not right, probably no questions would +be asked by the party having charge of the package. If there is no +underhand work going on, and the papers are what they profess to be, +nobody is compromised but yourself, so far as I can see, and you are +compromised at any rate, Mr. Gridley, at least in the good graces of the +party from whom you obtained the documents. Tell that party that I took +the package without opening it, and shall return it, very likely, without +breaking the seal. Will consider of the matter, say a couple of days. +Then you shall hear from me, and she shall hear from you. So. So. Yes, +that's it. A nice business. A thing to sleep on. You had better leave +the whole matter of dealing with the package to me. If I see fit to send +it back with the seal unbroken, that is my affair. But keep perfectly +quiet, if you please, Mr. Gridley, about the whole matter. Mr. Bradshaw +is off, as you know, and the business on which he is gone is +important,--very important. He can be depended on for that; he has acted +all along as if he had a personal interest in the success of our firm +beyond his legal relation to it." + +Mr. Penhallow's light burned very late in the office that night, and the +following one. He looked troubled and absent-minded, and when Miss Laura +ventured to ask him how long Mr. Bradshaw was like to be gone, he +answered her in such a way that the girl who waited at table concluded +that he did n't mean to have Miss Laury keep company with Mr. Bradshaw, +or he'd never have spoke so dreadful hash to her when she asked about +him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +SUSAN POSEY'S TRIAL. + +A day or two after Myrtle Hazard returned to the village, Master Byles +Gridley, accompanied by Gifted Hopkins, followed her, as has been already +mentioned, to the same scene of the principal events of this narrative. +The young man had been persuaded that it would be doing injustice to his +talents to crowd their fruit prematurely upon the market. He carried his +manuscript back with him, having relinquished the idea of publishing for +the present. Master Byles Gridley, on the other hand, had in his pocket +a very flattering proposal, from the same publisher to whom he had +introduced the young poet, for a new and revised edition of his work, +"Thoughts on the Universe," which was to be remodelled in some respects, +and to have a new title not quite so formidable to the average reader. + +It would be hardly fair to Susan Posey to describe with what delight and +innocent enthusiasm she welcomed back Gifted Hopkins. She had been so +lonely since he was away? She had read such of his poems as she +possessed--duplicates of his printed ones, or autographs which he had +kindly written out for her--over and over again, not without the sweet +tribute of feminine sensibility, which is the most precious of all +testimonials to a poet's power over the heart. True, her love belonged +to another,--but then she was so used to Gifted! She did so love to hear +him read his poems,--and Clement had never written that "little bit of a +poem to Susie," which she had asked him for so long ago! She received +him therefore with open arms,--not literally, of course, which would have +been a breach of duty and propriety, but in a figurative sense, which it +is hoped no reader will interpret to her discredit. + +The young poet was in need of consolation. It is true that he had seen +many remarkable sights during his visit to the city; that he had got +"smarted up," as his mother called it, a good deal; that he had been to +Mrs. Clymer Ketchum's party, where he had looked upon life in all its +splendors; and that he brought back many interesting experiences, which +would serve to enliven his conversation for a long time. But he had +failed in the great enterprise he had undertaken. He was forced to +confess to his revered parent, and his esteemed friend Susan Posey, that +his genius, which was freely acknowledged, was not thought to be quite +ripe as yet. He told the young lady some particulars of his visit to the +publisher, how he had listened with great interest to one of his poems, +"The Triumph of Song,"--how he had treated him with marked and flattering +attention; but that he advised him not to risk anything prematurely, +giving him the hope that by and by he would be admitted into that series +of illustrious authors which it was the publisher's privilege to present +to the reading public. In short, he was advised not to print. That was +the net total of the matter, and it was a pang to the susceptible heart +of the poet. He had hoped to have come home enriched by the sale of his +copyright, and with the prospect of seeing his name before long on the +back of a handsome volume. + +Gifted's mother did all in her power to console him in his +disappointment. There was plenty of jealous people always that wanted to +keep young folks from rising in the world. Never mind, she did n't +believe but what Gifted could make jest as good verses as any of them +that they kept such a talk about. She had a fear that he might pine away +in consequence of the mental excitement he had gone through, and +solicited his appetite with her choicest appliances,--of which he partook +in a measure which showed that there was no immediate cause of alarm. + +But Susan Posey was more than a consoler,--she was an angel to him in +this time of his disappointment. "Read me all the poems over again," she +said,--"it is almost the only pleasure I have left, to hear you read your +beautiful verses." Clement Lindsay had not written to Susan quite so +often of late as at some former periods of the history of their love. +Perhaps it was that which had made her look paler than usual for some +little time. Something was evidently preying on her. Her only delight +seemed to be in listening to Gifted as he read, sometimes with fine +declamatory emphasis, sometimes in low, tremulous tones, the various +poems enshrined in his manuscript. At other times she was sad, and more +than once Mrs. Hopkins had seen a tear steal down her innocent cheek, +when there seemed to be no special cause for grief. She ventured to +speak of it to Master Byles Gridley. + +"Our Susan's in trouble, Mr. Gridley, for some reason or other that's +unbeknown to me, and I can't help wishing you could jest have a few words +with her. You're a kind of a grandfather, you know, to all the young +folks, and they'd tell you pretty much everything about themselves. I +calc'late she is n't at ease in her mind about somethin' or other, and I +kind o' think, Mr. Gridley, you could coax it out of her." + +"Was there ever anything like it?" said Master Byles Gridley to himself. +"I shall have all the young folks in Oxbow Village to take care of at +this rate. Susan Posey in trouble, too! Well, well, well, it's easier +to get a birch-bark canoe off the shallows than a big ship off the rocks. +Susan Posey's trouble will be come at easily enough; but Myrtle Hazard +floats in deeper water. We must make Susan Posey tell her own story, or +let her tell it, for it will all come out of itself." + +"I am going to dust the books in the open shelves this morning. I wonder +if Miss Susan Posey would n't like to help for half an hour or so," +Master Gridley remarked at the breakfast-table. + +The amiable girl's very pleasant countenance lighted up at the thought of +obliging the old man who had been so kind to her and so liberal to her +friend, the poet. She would be delighted to help him; she would dust +them all for him, if he wanted her to. No, Master Gridley said, he +always wanted to have a hand in it; and, besides, such a little body as +she was could not lift those great folios out of the lower shelves +without overstraining herself; she might handle the musketry and the +light artillery, but he must deal with the heavy guns himself. "As low +down as the octavos, Susan Posey, you shall govern; below that, the Salic +law." + +Susan did not low much about the Salic law; but she knew he meant that he +would dust the big books and she would attend to the little ones. + +A very young and a very pretty girl is sometimes quite charming in a +costume which thinks of nothing less than of being attractive. Susan +appeared after breakfast in the study, her head bound with a kerchief of +bright pattern, a little jacket she had outgrown buttoned, in spite of +opposition, close about her up to the throat, round which a white +handkerchief was loosely tied, and a pair of old gauntlets protecting her +hands, so that she suggested something between a gypsy, a jaunty +soubrette, and the fille du regiment. + +Master Gridley took out a great volume from the lower shelf,--a folio in +massive oaken covers with clasps Like prison hinges, bearing the stately +colophon, white on a ground of vermilion, of Nicholas Jenson and his +associates. He opened the volume,--paused over its blue, and scarlet +initial letter,--he turned page after page, admiring its brilliant +characters, its broad, white marginal rivers, and the narrower white +creek that separated the black-typed twin-columns, he turned back to the +beginning and read the commendatory paragraph, "Nam ipsorum omnia fidgent +tum correctione dignissima, tum cura imprimendo splendida ac miranda," +and began reading, "Incipit proemium super apparatum decretalium...." +when it suddenly occurred to him that this was not exactly doing what he +had undertaken to do, and he began whisking an ancient bandanna about the +ears of the venerable volume. All this time Miss Susan Posey was +catching the little books by the small of their backs, pulling them out, +opening them, and clapping them together, 'p-'p-'p! 'p-'p-'p! and +carefully caressing all their edges with a regular professional +dusting-cloth, so persuasively that they yielded up every particle that a +year had drifted upon them, and came forth refreshed and rejuvenated. +This process went on for a while, until Susan had worked down among the +octavos and Master Gridley had worked up among the quartos. He had got +hold of Calmet's Dictionary, and was caught by the article Solomon, so +that he forgot his occupation again. All at once it struck him that +everything was very silent,--the 'p-'p-'p! of clapping the books had +ceased, and the light rustle of Susan's dress was no longer heard. He +looked up and saw her standing perfectly still, with a book in one hand +and her duster in the other. She was lost in thought, and by the shadow +on her face and the glistening of her blue eyes he knew it was her hidden +sorrow that had just come back to her. Master Gridley shut up his book, +leaving Solomon to his fate, like the worthy Benedictine he was reading, +without discussing the question whether he was saved or not. + +"Susan Posey, child, what is your trouble?" + +Poor Susan was in the state of unstable equilibrium which the least touch +upsets, and fell to crying. It took her some time to get down the waves +of emotion so that speech would live upon them. At last it ventured +out,--showing at intervals, like the boat rising on the billow, sinking +into the hollow, and climbing again into notice. + +"O Mr. Grid-ley--I can't--I can't--tell you or--any-body--what 's the +mat-mat-matter. My heart will br-br-break." + +"No, no, no, child," said Mr. Gridley, sympathetically stirred a little +himself by the sight of Susan in tears and sobbing and catching her +breath, "that mustn't be, Susan Posey. Come off the steps, Susan Posey, +and stop dusting the books,--I can finish them,--and tell me all abort +your troubles. I will try 'to help you out of them, and I have begun to +think I know how to help young people pretty well. I have had some +experience at it." + +But Susan cried and sobbed all the more uncontrollably and convulsively. +Master Gridley thought he had better lead her at once to what he felt +pretty sure was the source of her grief, and that, when she had had her +cry out, she would probably make the hole in the ice he had broken big +enough in a very few minutes. + +"I think something has gone wrong between you and your friend, the young +gentleman with whom you are in intimate relations, my child, and I think +you had better talk freely with me, for I can perhaps give you a little +counsel that will be of service." + +Susan cried herself quiet at last. "There's nobody in the world like +you, Mr. Gridley," she said, "and I've been wanting to tell you something +ever so long. My friend--Mr. Clem--Clement Lindsay does n't care for me +as he used to,--I know he does n't. He hasn't written to me for--I don't +know but it's a month. And O Mr. Gridley! he's such a great man, and I +am such a simple person,--I can't help thinking--he would be happier with +somebody else than poor little Susan Posey!" + +This last touch of self-pity overcame her, as it is so apt to do those +who indulge in that delightful misery, and she broke up badly, as a +horse-fancier would say, so that it was some little time before she +recovered her conversational road-gait. + +"O Mr. Gridley," she began again, at length, "if I only dared to tell him +what I think,--that perhaps it would be happier for us both--if we could +forget each other! Ought I not to tell him so? Don't you think he would +find another to make him happy? Wouldn't he forgive me for telling him +he was free? Were we not too young to know each other's hearts when we +promised each other that we would love as long as we lived? Sha'n't I +write him a letter this very day and tell him all? Do you think it would +be wrong in me to do it? O Mr. Gridley, it makes me almost crazy to +think about it. Clement must be free! I cannot, cannot hold him to a +promise he does n't want to keep." + +There were so many questions in this eloquent rhapsody of Susan's that +they neutralized each other, as one might say, and Master Gridley had +time for reflection. His thoughts went on something in this way: + +"Pretty clear case! Guess Mr. Clement can make up his mind to it. Put it +well, did n't she? Not a word about our little Gifted! That's the +trouble. Poets! how they do bewitch these schoolgirls! And having a +chance every day, too, how could you expect her to stand it?" Then +aloud: "Susan Posey, you are a good, honest little girl as ever was. I +think you and Clement were too hasty in coming together for life before +you knew what life meant. I think if you write Clement a letter, telling +him that you cannot help fearing that you two are not perfectly adapted +to each other, on account of certain differences for which neither of you +is responsible, and that you propose that each should release the other +from the pledge given so long ago,--in that case, I say, I believe he +will think no worse of you for so doing, and may perhaps agree that it is +best for both of you to seek your happiness elsewhere than in each +other." + +The book-dusting came to as abrupt a close as the reading of Lancelot. +Susan went straight to her room, dried her tears so as to write in a fair +hand, but had to stop every few lines and take a turn at the +"dust-layers," as Mrs. Clymer Ketchum's friend used to call the fountains +of sensibility. It would seem like betraying Susan's confidence to +reveal the contents of this letter, but the reader may be assured that it +was simple and sincere and very sweetly written, without the slightest +allusion to any other young man, whether of the poetical or cheaper human +varieties. + +It was not long before Susan received a reply from Clement Lindsay. It +was as kind and generous and noble as she could have asked. It was +affectionate, as a very amiable brother's letter might be, and candidly +appreciative of the reasons Susan had assigned for her proposal. He gave +her back her freedom, not that he should cease to feel an interest in +her, always. He accepted his own release, not that he would ever think +she could be indifferent to his future fortunes. And within a very brief +period of time after sending his answer to Susan Posey, whether he wished +to see her in person, or whether he had some other motive, he had packed +his trunk, and made his excuses for an absence of uncertain length at the +studio, and was on his way to Oxbow Village. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +JUST AS YOU EXPECTED. + +The spring of 1861 had now arrived,--that eventful spring which was to +lift the curtain and show the first scene of the first act in the mighty +drama which fixed the eyes of mankind during four bloody years. The +little schemes of little people were going on in all our cities and +villages without thought of the fearful convulsion which was soon coming +to shatter the hopes and cloud the prospects of millions. Our little +Oxbow Village, which held itself by no means the least of human centres, +was the scene of its own commotions, as intense and exciting to those +concerned as if the destiny of the nation had been involved in them. + +Mr. Clement Lindsay appeared suddenly in that important locality, and +repaired to his accustomed quarters at the house of Deacon Rumrill. That +worthy person received him with a certain gravity of manner, caused by +his recollections of the involuntary transgression into which Mr. Lindsay +had led him by his present of "Ivanhoe."--He was, on the whole, glad to +see him, for his finances were not yet wholly recovered from the injury +inflicted on them by the devouring element. But he could not forget that +his boarder had betrayed him into a breach of the fourth commandment, and +that the strict eyes of his clergyman had detected him in the very +commission of the offence. He had no sooner seen Mr. Clement comfortably +installed, therefore, than he presented himself at the door of his +chamber with the book, enveloped in strong paper and very securely tied +round with a stout string. + +"Here is your vollum, Mr. Lindsay," the Deacon said. "I understand it is +not the work of that great and good mahn who I thought wrote it. I did +not see anything immoral in it as fur as I read, but it belongs to what I +consider a very dangerous class of publications. These novels and +romances are awfully destructive to our youth. I should recommend you, +as a young man of principle, to burn the vollum. At least I hope you +will not leave it about anywhere unless it is carefully tied up. I have +written upon the paper round it to warn off all the young persons of my +household from meddling with it." + +True enough, Mr. Clement saw in strong black letters on the back of the +paper wrapping his unfortunate "Ivanhoe,"-- + + "DANGEROUS READING FOR CHRISTIAN YOUTH. + + "TOUCH NOT THE UNCLEAN THING." + +"I thought you said you had Scott's picture hung up in your parlor, +Deacon Rumrill," he said, a little amused with the worthy man's fear and +precautions. + +"It is the great Scott's likeness that I have in my parlor," he said; "I +will show it to you if you will come with me." + +Mr. Clement followed the Deacon into that sacred apartment. + +"That is the portrait of the great Scott," he said, pointing to an +engraving of a heavy-looking person whose phrenological developments were +a somewhat striking contrast to those of the distinguished Sir Walter. + +"I will take good care that none of your young people see this volume," +Mr. Clement said; "I trust you read it yourself, however, and found +something to please you in it. I am sure you are safe from being harmed +by any such book. Did n't you have to finish it, Deacon, after you had +once begun?" + +"Well, I--I--perused a consid'able portion of the work," the Deacon +answered, in a way that led Mr. Clement to think he had not stopped much +short of Finis. "Anything new in the city?" + +"Nothing except what you've all had,--Confederate States establishing an +army and all that,--not very new either. What has been going on here +lately, Deacon?"-- + +"Well, Mr. Lindsay, not a great deal. My new barn is pretty nigh done. +I've got as fine a litter of pigs as ever you see. I don't know whether +you're a judge of pigs or no. The Hazard gal's come back, spilt, pooty +much, I guess. Been to one o' them fashionable schools,--I 've heerd +that she 's learnt to dance. I've heerd say that that Hopkins boy's +round the Posey gal, come to think, she's the one you went with some when +you was here,--I 'm gettin' kind o' forgetful. Old Doctor Hurlbut's +pretty low,--ninety-four year old,--born in '67,--folks ain't ginerally +very spry after they're ninety, but he held out wonderful." + +"How's Mr. Bradshaw?" + +"Well, the young squire, he's off travellin' somewhere in the West, or to +Washin'ton, or somewhere else,--I don't jestly know where. They say that +he's follerin' up the courts in the business about old Malachi's estate. +I don' know much about it." + +The news got round Oxbow Village very speedily that Mr. Clement Lindsay, +generally considered the accepted lover of Miss Susan Posey, had arrived +in that place. Now it had come to be the common talk of the village that +young Gifted Hopkins and Susan Posey were getting to be mighty thick with +each other, and the prevailing idea was that Clement's visit had +reference to that state of affairs. Some said that Susan had given her +young man the mitten, meaning thereby that she had signified that his +services as a suitor were dispensed with. Others thought there was only a +wavering in her affection for her lover, and that he feared for her +constancy, and had come to vindicate his rights. + +Some of the young fellows, who were doubtless envious of Gifted's +popularity with the fair sex, attempted in the most unjustifiable manner +to play upon his susceptible nature. One of them informed him that he +had seen that Lindsay fellah raound taown with the darndest big stick y' +ever did see. Looked kind o' savage and wild like. Another one told him +that perhaps he'd better keep a little shady; that are chap that had got +the mittin was praowlin' abaout--with a pistil,--one o' them +Darringers,--abaout as long as your thumb, an' fire a bullet as big as a +p'tatah-ball,--'a fellah carries one in his breeches-pocket, an' shoots +y' right threugh his own pahnts, withaout ever takin' on it aout of his +pocket. The stable-keeper, who, it may be remembered, once exchanged a +few playful words with Mr. Gridley, got a hint from some of these +unfeeling young men, and offered the resources of his stable to the youth +supposed to be in peril. + +"I 've got a faast colt, Mr. Hopkins, that 'll put twenty mild betwixt +you an' this here village, as quick as any four huffs 'll dew it in this +here caounty, if you should want to get away suddin. I've heern tell +there was some lookin' raound here that wouldn't be wholesome to +meet,--jest say the word, Mr. Hopkins, an' I 'll have ye on that are +colt's back in less than no time, an' start ye off full jump. There's a +good many that's kind o' worried for fear something might happen to ye, +Mr. Hopkins,--y' see fellahs don't like to have other chaps cuttin' on +'em aout with their gals." + +Gifted Hopkins had become excessively nervous by this time. It is true +that everything in his intimacy with Susan Posey, so far, might come +under the general head of friendship; but he was conscious that something +more was in both their thoughts. Susan had given him mysterious hints +that her relations with Clement had undergone a change, but had never had +quite courage enough, perhaps had too much delicacy, to reveal the whole +truth. + +Gifted was walking home, deeply immersed in thoughts excited by the hints +which hail been thus wantonly thrown out to inflame his imagination, when +all at once, on lifting his eyes, he saw Clement Lindsay coming straight +towards him. Gifted was unarmed, except with a pair of blunt scissors, +which he carried habitually in his pocket. What should he do? Should he +fly? But he was never a good runner, being apt to find himself scant o' +breath, like Hamlet, after violent exercise. His demeanor on the +occasion did credit to his sense of his own virtuous conduct and his +self-possession. He put his hand out, while yet at a considerable +distance, and marched up towards Clement, smiling with all the native +amiability which belonged to him. + +To his infinite relief, Clement put out his hand to grasp the one offered +him, and greeted the young poet in the most frank and cordial manner. + +"And how is Miss Susan Posey, Mr. Hopkins?" asked Clement, in the most +cheerful tone. "It is a long while since I have seen her, and you must +tell her that I hope I shall not leave the village without finding time +to call upon her. She and I are good friends always, Mr. Hopkins, though +perhaps I shall not be quite so often at your mother's as I was during my +last visit to Oxbow Village." + +Gifted felt somewhat as the subject of one of those old-fashioned forms +of argument, formerly much employed to convince men of error in matters +of religion, must have felt when the official who superintended the +stretching-machine said, "Slack up!" + +He told Mr. Clement all about Susan, and was on the point of saying that +if he, Mr. Clement, did not claim any engrossing interest in her, he, +Gifted, was ready to offer her the devotion of a poet's heart. Mr. +Clement, however, had so many other questions to ask him about everybody +in the village, more particularly concerning certain young persons in +whom he seemed to be specially interested, that there was no chance to +work in his own revelations of sentiment. + +Clement Lindsay had come to Oxbow Village with a single purpose. He +could now venture to trust himself in the presence of Myrtle Hazard. He +was free, and he knew nothing to show that she had lost the liberty of +disposing of her heart. But after an experience such as he had gone +through, he was naturally distrustful of himself, and inclined to be +cautious and reserved in yielding to a new passion. Should he tell her +the true relations in which they stood to each other,--that she owed her +life to him, and that he had very nearly sacrificed his own in saving +hers? Why not? He had a claim on her gratitude for what he had done in +her behalf, and out of this gratitude there might naturally spring a +warmer feeling. + +No, he could not try to win her affections by showing that he had paid +for them beforehand. She seemed to be utterly unconscious of the fact +that it was he who had been with her in the abyss of waters. If the +thought came to her of itself, and she ever asked him, it would be time +enough to tell her the story. If not, the moment might arrive when he +could reveal to her the truth that he was her deliverer, without accusing +himself of bribing her woman's heart to reward him for his services. He +would wait for that moment. + +It was the most natural thing in the world that Mr. Lindsay, a young +gentleman from the city, should call to see Miss Hazard, a young lady +whom he had met recently at a party. To that pleasing duty he addressed +himself the evening after his arrival. + +"The young gentleman's goin' a courtin', I calc'late," was the remark of +the Deacon's wife when she saw what a comely figure Mr. Clement showed at +the tea-table. + +"A very hahnsome young mahn," the Deacon replied, "and looks as if he +might know consid'able. An architect, you know,--a sort of a builder. +Wonder if he has n't got any good plans for a hahnsome pigsty. I suppose +he 'd charge somethin' for one, but it couldn't be much, an' he could +take it out in board." + +"Better ask him," his wife--said; "he looks mighty pleasant; there's +nothin' lost by askin', an' a good deal got sometimes, grandma used to +say." + +The Deacon followed her advice. Mr. Clement was perfectly good-natured +about it, asked the Deacon the number of snouts in his menagerie, got an +idea of the accommodations required, and sketched the plaza of a neat, +and appropriate edifice for the Porcellarium, as Master Gridley +afterwards pleasantly christened it, which was carried out by the +carpenter, and stands to this day a monument of his obliging disposition, +and a proof that there is nothing so humble that taste cannot be shown in +it. + +"What'll be your charge for the plan of the pigsty, Mr. Lindsay?" the +Deacon inquired with an air of interest,--he might have become involved +more deeply than he had intended. "How much should you call about right +for the picter an' figgerin'?" + +"Oh, you're quite welcome to my sketch of a plan, Deacon. I've seen much +showier buildings tenanted by animals not very different from those your +edifice is meant for." + +Mr. Clement found the three ladies sitting together in the chill, dim +parlor at The Poplars. They had one of the city papers spread out on the +table, and Myrtle was reading aloud the last news from Charleston Harbor. +She rose as Mr. Clement entered, and stepped forward to meet him. It was +a strange impression this young man produced upon her,--not through the +common channels of the intelligence, not exactly that "magnetic" +influence of which she had had experience at a former time. It did not +over come her as at the moment of their second meeting. But it was +something she must struggle against, and she had force and pride and +training enough now to maintain her usual tranquillity, in spite of a +certain inward commotion which seemed to reach her breathing and her +pulse by some strange, inexplicable mechanism. + +Myrtle, it must be remembered, was no longer the simple country girl who +had run away at fifteen, but a young lady of seventeen, who had learned +all that more than a year's diligence at a great school could teach her, +who had been much with girls of taste and of culture, and was familiar +with the style and manners of those who came from what considered itself +the supreme order in the social hierarchy. Her natural love for +picturesque adornment was qualified by a knowledge of the prevailing +modes not usual in so small a place as Oxbow Village. All this had not +failed to produce its impression on those about her. Persons who, like +Miss Silence Withers, believe, not in education, inasmuch as there is no +healthy nature to be educated, but in transformation, worry about their +charges up to a certain period of their lives. Then, if the +transformation does not come, they seem to think their cares and duties +are at an end, and, considering their theories of human destiny, usually +accept the situation with wonderful complacency. This was the stage +which Miss Silence Withers had reached with reference to Myrtle. It made +her infinitely more agreeable, or less disagreeable, as the reader may +choose one or the other statement, than when she was always fretting +about her "responsibility." She even began to take an interest in some +of Myrtle's worldly experiences, and something like a smile would now and +then disarrange the chief-mourner stillness of her features, as Myrtle +would tell some lively story she had brought away from the gay society +she had frequented. + +Cynthia Badlam kept her keen eyes on her like a hawk. Murray Bradshaw +was away, and here was this handsome and agreeable youth coming in to +poach on the preserve of which she considered herself the gamekeeper. +What did it mean? She had heard the story about Susan's being off with +her old love and on with a new one. Ah ha! this is the game, is it? + +Clement Lindsay passed not so much a pleasant evening, as one of strange, +perplexed, and mingled delight and inward conflict. He had found his +marble once more turned to flesh and blood, and breathing before him. +This was the woman he was born for; her form was fit to model his +proudest ideal from, her eyes melted him when they rested for an instant +on his face,--her voice reached the hidden sensibilities of his inmost +nature; those which never betray their existence until the outward chord +to which they vibrate in response sends its message to stir them. But +was she not already pledged to that other,--that cold-blooded, +contriving, venal, cynical, selfish, polished, fascinating man of the +world, whose artful strategy would pass with nine women out of ten for +the most romantic devotion? + +If he had known the impression he made, he would have felt less anxiety +with reference to this particular possibility. Miss Silence expressed +herself gratified with his appearance, and thought he looked like a good +young man,--he reminded her of a young friend of hers who--[It was the +same who had gone to one of the cannibal islands as a missionary,--and +stayed there.] Myrtle was very quiet. She had nothing to say about +Clement, except that she had met him at a party in the city, and found +him agreeable. Miss Cynthia wrote a letter to Murray Bradshaw that very +evening, telling him that he had better come back to Oxbow Village as +quickly as he could, unless he wished to find his place occupied by an +intruder. + +In the mean time, the country was watching the garrison in Charleston +Harbor. All at once the first gun of the four years' cannonade hurled +its ball against the walls of Fort Sumter. There was no hamlet in the +land which the reverberations of that cannon-roar did not reach. There +was no valley so darkened by overshadowing hills that it did not see the +American flag hauled down on the 13th of April. There was no loyal heart +in the North that did not answer to the call of the country to its +defenders which went forth two days later. The great tide of feeling +reached the locality where the lesser events of our narrative were +occurring. A meeting of the citizens was instantly called. The +venerable Father Pemberton opened it with a prayer that filled every soul +with courage and high resolve. The young farmers and mechanics of that +whole region joined the companies to which they belonged, or organized in +squads and marched at once, or got ready to march, to the scene of +conflict. + +The contagion of warlike patriotism reached the most peacefully inclined +young persons. + +"My country calls me," Gifted Hopkins said to Susan Posey, "and I am +preparing to obey her summons. If I can pass the medical examination, +which it is possible I may, though I fear my constitution may be thought +too weak, and if no obstacle impedes me, I think of marching in the ranks +of the Oxbow Invincibles. If I go, Susan, and I fall, will you not +remember me . . . as one who . . . cherished the tenderest . . . +sentiments . . . towards you . . . and who had looked forward to the +time when . . . when . ." + +His eyes told the rest. He loved! + +Susan forgot all the rules of reserve to which she had been trained. What +were cold conventionalities at such a moment? "Never! never!" she said, +throwing her arms about his neck and mingling her tears with his, which +were flowing freely. "Your country does not need your sword .... but it +does need . . . your pen. Your poems will inspire . . . our +soldiers. . . . The Oxbow Invincibles will march to victory, singing +your songs . . . . If you go . . . and if you.. . fall . . . O +Gifted! . . . I . . . I . . . . yes, I shall die too!" + +His love was returned. He was blest! + +"Susan," he said, "my own Susan, I yield to your wishes at every +sacrifice. Henceforth they will be my law. Yes, I will stay and +encourage my brave countrymen to go forward to the bloody field. My +voice shall urge them on to the battle-ground. I will give my dearest +breath to stimulate their ardor. + +"O Susan! My own, own Susan!" + +While these interesting events had been going on beneath the modest roof +of the Widow Hopkins, affairs had been rapidly hastening to a similar +conclusion under the statelier shadow of The Poplars. Clement Lindsay was +so well received at his first visit that he ventured to repeat it several +times, with so short intervals that it implied something more than a +common interest in one of the members of the household. There was no +room for doubt who this could be, and Myrtle Hazard could not help seeing +that she was the object of his undisguised admiration. The belief was +now general in the village that Gifted Hopkins and Susan Posey were +either engaged or on the point of being so; and it was equally understood +that, whatever might be the explanation, she and her former lover had +parted company in an amicable manner. + +Love works very strange transformations in young women. Sometimes it +leads them to try every mode of adding to their attractions,--their whole +thought is how to be most lovely in the eyes they would fill so as to +keep out all other images. Poor darlings! We smile at their little +vanities, as if they were very trivial things compared with the last +Congressman's speech or the great Election Sermon; but Nature knows well +what she is about. The maiden's ribbon or ruffle means a great deal more +for her than the judge's wig or the priest's surplice. + +It was not in this way that the gentle emotion awaking in the breast of +Myrtle Hazard betrayed itself. As the thought dawned in her +consciousness that she was loved, a change came over her such as the +spirit that protected her, according to the harmless fancy she had +inherited, might have wept for joy to behold, if tears could flow from +angelic eyes. She forgot herself and her ambitions,--the thought of +shining in the great world died out in the presence of new visions of a +future in which she was not to be her own,--of feelings in the depth of +which the shallow vanities which had drawn her young eyes to them for a +while seemed less than nothing. Myrtle had not hitherto said to herself +that Clement was her lover, yet her whole nature was expanding and +deepening in the light of that friendship which any other eye could have +known at a glance for the great passion. + +Cynthia Badlam wrote a pressing letter to Murray Bradshaw. "There is no +time to be lost; she is bewitched, and will be gone beyond hope if this +business is not put a stop to." + +Love moves in an accelerating ratio; and there comes a time when the +progress of the passion escapes from all human formulae, and brings two +young hearts, which had been gradually drawing nearer and nearer +together, into complete union, with a suddenness that puts an infinity +between the moment when all is told and that which went just before. + +They were sitting together by themselves in the dimly lighted parlor. +They had told each other many experiences of their past lives, very +freely, as two intimate friends of different sex might do. Clement had +happened to allude to Susan, speaking very kindly and tenderly of her. +He hoped this youth to whom she was attached would make her life happy. +"You know how simple-hearted and good she is; her image will always be a +pleasant one in my memory,--second to but one other." + +Myrtle ought, according to the common rules of conversation, to have +asked, What other? but she did not. She may have looked as if she wanted +to ask,--she may have blushed or turned pale, perhaps she could not trust +her voice; but whatever the reason was, she sat still, with downcast +eyes. Clement waited a reasonable time, but, finding it was of no use, +began again. + +"Your image is the one other,--the only one, let me say, for all else +fades in its presence,--your image fills all my thought. Will you trust +your life and happiness with one who can offer you so little beside his +love? You know my whole heart is yours." + +Whether Myrtle said anything in reply or not, whether she acted like +Coleridge's Genevieve,--that is, "fled to him and wept," or suffered her +feelings to betray themselves in some less startling confession, we will +leave untold. Her answer, spoken or silent, could not have been a cruel +one, for in another moment Clement was pressing his lips to hers, after +the manner of accepted lovers. + +"Our lips have met to-day for the second time," he said, presently. + +She looked at him in wonder. What did he mean? The second time! How +assuredly he spoke! She looked him calmly in the face, and awaited his +explanation. + +"I have a singular story to tell you. On the morning of the 16th of +June, now nearly two years ago, I was sitting in my room at Alderbank, +some twenty miles down the river, when I heard a cry for help coming from +the river. I ran down to the bank, and there I saw a boy in an old +boat--" + +When it came to the "boy" in the old boat, Myrtle's cheeks flamed so that +she could not bear it, and she covered her face with both her hands. But +Clement told his story calmly through to the end, sliding gently over its +later incidents, for Myrtle's heart was throbbing violently, and her +breath a little catching and sighing, as when she had first lived with +the new life his breath had given her. + +"Why did you ask me for myself, when you could have claimed me?" she +said. + +"I wanted a free gift, Myrtle," Clement answered, "and I have it." + +They sat in silence, lost in the sense of that new life which had +suddenly risen on their souls. + +The door-bell rang sharply. Kitty Fagan answered its summons, and +presently entered the parlor and announced that Mr. Bradshaw was in the +library, and wished to see the ladies. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +MURRAY BRADSHAW PLAYS HIS LAST CARD. + +"How can I see that man this evening, Mr. Lindsay?" + +"May I not be Clement, dearest? I would not see him at all, Myrtle. I +don't believe you will find much pleasure in listening to his fine +speeches." + +"I cannot endure it.--Kitty, tell him I am engaged, and cannot see him +this evening. No, no! don't say engaged, say very much occupied." + +Kitty departed, communing with herself in this wise:--"Ockipied, is it? +An' that's what ye cahl it when ye 're kapin' company with one young +gintleman an' don't want another young gintleman to come in an' help the +two of ye? Ye won't get y'r pigs to market to-day, Mr. Bridshaw, no, nor +to-morrow, nayther, Mr. Bridshaw. It's Mrs. Lindsay that Miss Myrtle is +goin' to be,--an' a big cake there'll be at the weddin' frosted all +over,--won't ye be plased with a slice o' that, Mr. Bridshaw?" + +With these reflections in her mind, Mistress Kitty delivered her message, +not without a gleam of malicious intelligence in her look that stung Mr. +Bradshaw sharply. He had noticed a hat in the entry, and a little stick +by it which he remembered well as one he had seen carried by Clement +Lindsay. But he was used to concealing his emotions, and he greeted the +two older ladies who presently came into the library so pleasantly, that +no one who had not studied his face long and carefully would have +suspected the bitterness of heart that lay hidden far down beneath his +deceptive smile. He told Miss Silence, with much apparent interest, the +story of his journey. He gave her an account of the progress of the case +in which the estate of which she inherited the principal portion was +interested. He did not tell her that a final decision which would settle +the right to the great claim might be expected at any moment, and he did +not tell her that there was very little doubt that it would be in favor +of the heirs of Malachi Withers. He was very sorry he could not see Miss +Hazard that evening,--hoped he should be more fortunate to-morrow +forenoon, when he intended to call again,--had a message for her from one +of her former school friends, which he was anxious to give her. He +exchanged certain looks and hints with Miss Cynthia, which led her to +withdraw and bring down the papers he had entrusted to her. At the close +of his visit, she followed him into the entry with a lamp, as was her +common custom. + +"What's the meaning of all this, Cynthia? Is that fellow making love to +Myrtle?" + +"I'm afraid so, Mr. Bradshaw. He's been here several times, and they +seem to be getting intimate. I couldn't do anything to stop it." + +"Give me the papers,--quick!" + +Cynthia pulled the package from her pocket. Murray Bradshaw looked +sharply at it. A little crumpled,--crowded into her pocket. Seal +unbroken. All safe. + +"I shall come again to-morrow forenoon. Another day and it will be all +up. The decision of the court will be known. It won't be my fault if +one visit is not enough.--You don't suppose Myrtle is in love with this +fellow?" + +"She acts as--if she might be. You know he's broke with Susan Posey, and +there's nothing to hinder. If you ask my opinion, I think it's your last +chance: she is n't a girl to half do things, and if she has taken to this +man it will be hard to make her change her mind. But she's young, and +she has had a liking for you, and if you manage it well there's no +telling." + +Two notes passed between Myrtle Hazard and Master Byles Gridley that +evening. Mistress Kitty Fagan, who had kept her ears pretty wide open, +carried them. + +Murray Bradshaw went home in a very desperate state of feeling. He had +laid his plans, as he thought, with perfect skill, and the certainty of +their securing their end. These papers were to have been taken from the +envelope, and found in the garret just at the right moment, either by +Cynthia herself or one of the other members of the family, who was to be +led on, as it were accidentally, to the discovery. The right moment must +be close at hand. He was to offer his hand--and heart, of course--to +Myrtle, and it was to be accepted. As soon as the decision of the land +case was made known, or not long afterwards, there was to be a search in +the garret for papers, and these were to be discovered in a certain dusty +recess, where, of course, they would have been placed by Miss Cynthia. + +And now the one condition which gave any value to these arrangements +seemed like to fail. This obscure youth--this poor fool, who had been on +the point of marrying a simpleton to whom he had made a boyish +promise--was coming between him and the object of his long pursuit,--the +woman who had every attraction to draw him to herself. It had been a +matter of pride with Murray Bradshaw that he never lost his temper so as +to interfere with the precise course of action which his cool judgment +approved; but now he was almost beside himself with passion. His labors, +as he believed, had secured the favorable issue of the great case so long +pending. He had followed Myrtle through her whole career, if not as her +avowed lover, at least as one whose friendship promised to flower in love +in due season. The moment had come when the scene and the characters in +this village drama were to undergo a change as sudden and as brilliant as +is seen in those fairy spectacles where the dark background changes to a +golden palace and the sober dresses are replaced by robes of regal +splendor. The change was fast approaching; but he, the enchanter, as he +had thought himself, found his wand broken, and his power given to +another. + +He could not sleep during that night. He paced his room, a prey to +jealousy and envy and rage, which his calm temperament had kept him from +feeling in their intensity up to this miserable hour. He thought of all +that a maddened nature can imagine to deaden its own intolerable anguish. +Of revenge. If Myrtle rejected his suit, should he take her life on the +spot, that she might never be another's,--that neither man nor woman +should ever triumph over him,--the proud ambitious man, defeated, +humbled, scorned? No! that was a meanness of egotism which only the most +vulgar souls could be capable of. Should he challenge her lover? It was +not the way of the people and time, and ended in absurd complications, if +anybody was foolish enough to try it. Shoot him? The idea floated +through his mind, for he thought of everything; but he was a lawyer, and +not a fool, and had no idea of figuring in court as a criminal. Besides, +he was not a murderer,--cunning was his natural weapon, not violence. He +had a certain admiration of desperate crime in others, as showing nerve +and force, but he did not feel it to be his own style of doing business. + +During the night he made every arrangement for leaving the village the +next day, in case he failed to make any impression on Myrtle Hazard and +found that his chance was gone. He wrote a letter to his partner, +telling him that he had left to join one of the regiments forming in the +city. He adjusted all his business matters so that his partner should +find as little trouble as possible. A little before dawn he threw +himself on the bed, but he could not sleep; and he rose at sunrise, and +finished his preparations for his departure to the city. + +The morning dragged along slowly. He could not go to the office, not +wishing to meet his partner again. After breakfast he dressed himself +with great care, for he meant to show himself in the best possible +aspect. Just before he left the house to go to The Poplars, he took the +sealed package from his trunk, broke open the envelope, took from it a +single paper,--it had some spots on it which distinguished it from all +the rest,--put it separately in his pocket, and then the envelope +containing the other papers. The calm smile he wore on his features as +he set forth cost him a greater effort than he had ever made before to +put it on. He was moulding his face to the look with which he meant to +present himself; and the muscles had been sternly fixed so long that it +was a task to bring them to their habitual expression in company,--that +of ingenuous good-nature. + +He was shown into the parlor at The Poplars; and Kitty told Myrtle that +he had called and inquired for her and was waiting down stairs. + +"Tell him I will be down presently," she said. "And, Kitty, now mind +just what I tell you. Leave your kitchen door open, so that you can hear +anything fall in the parlor. If you hear a book fall,--it will be a +heavy one, and will make some noise,--run straight up here to my little +chamber, and hang this red scarf out of the window. The left-hand +side-sash, mind, so that anybody can see it from the road. If Mr. +Gridley calls, show him into the parlor, no matter who is there." + +Kitty Fagan looked amazingly intelligent, and promised that she would do +exactly as she was told. Myrtle followed her down stairs almost +immediately, and went into the parlor, where Mr. Bradshaw was waiting. + +Never in his calmest moments had he worn a more insinuating smile on his +features than that with which he now greeted Myrtle. So gentle, so +gracious, so full of trust, such a completely natural expression of a +kind, genial character did it seem, that to any but an expert it would +have appeared impossible that such an effect could be produced by the +skilful balancing of half a dozen pairs of little muscles that manage the +lips and the corners of the mouth. The tones of his voice were subdued +into accord with the look of his features; his whole manner was +fascinating, as far as any conscious effort could make it so. It was +just one of those artificially pleasing effects that so often pass with +such as have little experience of life for the genuine expression of +character and feeling. But Myrtle had learned the look that shapes +itself on the features of one who loves with a love that seeketh not its +own, and she knew the difference between acting and reality. She met his +insinuating approach with a courtesy so carefully ordered that it was of +itself a sentence without appeal. Artful persons often interpret sincere +ones by their own standard. Murray Bradshaw thought little of this +somewhat formal address,--a few minutes would break this thin film to +pieces. He was not only a suitor with a prize to gain, he was a +colloquial artist about to employ all the resources of his specialty. + +He introduced the conversation in the most natural and easy way, by +giving her the message from a former school-mate to which he had +referred, coloring it so delicately, as he delivered it, that it became +an innocent-looking flattery. Myrtle found herself in a rose-colored +atmosphere, not from Murray Bradshaw's admiration, as it seemed, but only +reflected by his mind from another source. That was one of his arts, +always, if possible, to associate himself incidentally, as it appeared, +and unavoidably, with an agreeable impression. + +So Myrtle was betrayed into smiling and being pleased before he had said +a word about himself or his affairs. Then he told her of the adventures +and labors of his late expedition; of certain evidence which at the very +last moment he had unearthed, and which was very probably the +turning-point in the case. He could not help feeling that she must +eventually reap some benefit from the good fortune with which his efforts +had been attended. The thought that it might yet be so had been a great +source of encouragement to him,--it would always be a great happiness to +him to remember that he had done anything to make her happy. + +Myrtle was very glad that he had been so far successful,--she did not +know that it made much difference to her, but she was obliged to him for +the desire of serving her that he had expressed. + +"My services are always yours, Miss Hazard. There is no sacrifice I +would not willingly make for your benefit. I have never had but one +feeling toward you. You cannot be ignorant of what that feeling is." + +"I know, Mr. Bradshaw, it has been one of kindness. I have to thank you +for many friendly attentions, for which I hope I have never been +ungrateful." + +"Kindness is not all that I feel towards you, Miss Hazard. If that were +all, my lips would not tremble as they do now in telling you my +feelings.--I love you." + +He sprang the great confession on Myrtle a little sooner than he had +meant. It was so hard to go on making phrases! Myrtle changed color a +little, for she was startled. + +The seemingly involuntary movement she made brought her arm against a +large dictionary, which lay very near the edge of the table on which it +was resting. The book fell with a loud noise to the floor. + +There it lay. The young man awaited her answer; he did not think of +polite forms at such a moment. + +"It cannot be, Mr. Bradshaw,--it must not be. I have known you long, and +I am not ignorant of all your brilliant qualities, but you must not speak +to me of love. Your regard,--your friendly interest, tell me that I +shall always have these, but do not distress me with offering more than +these." + +"I do not ask you to give me your love in return; I only ask you not to +bid me despair. Let me believe that the time may come' when you will +listen to me,--no matter how distant. You are young,--you have a tender +heart,--you would not doom one who only lives for you to +wretchedness,--so long that we have known each other. It cannot be that +any other has come between us--" + +Myrtle blushed so deeply that there was no need of his finishing his +question. + +"Do you mean, Myrtle Hazard, that you have cast me aside for +another?--for this stranger--this artist--who was with you yesterday when +I came, bringing with me the story of all I had done for you, yes, for +you,--and was ignominiously refused the privilege of seeing you?" Rage +and jealousy had got the better of him this time. He rose as he spoke, +and looked upon her with such passion kindling in his eyes that he seemed +ready for any desperate act. + +"I have thanked you for any services you may have rendered me, Mr. +Bradshaw," Myrtle answered, very calmly, "and I hope you will add one +more to them by sparing me this rude questioning. I wished to treat you +as a friend; I hope you will not render that impossible." + +He had recovered himself for one more last effort. "I was impatient +overlook it, I beg you. I was thinking of all the happiness I have +labored to secure for you, and of the ruin to us both it would be if you +scornfully rejected the love I offer you,--if you refuse to leave me any +hope for the future,--if you insist on throwing yourself away on this +man, so lately pledged to another. I hold the key of all your earthly +fortunes in my hand. My love for you inspired me in all that I have +done, and, now that I come to lay the result of my labors at your feet, +you turn from me, and offer my reward to a stranger. I do not ask you to +say this day that you will be mine,--I would not force your +inclinations,--but I do ask you that you will hold yourself free of all +others, and listen to me as one who may yet be more than a friend. Say +so much as this, Myrtle, and you shall have such a future as you never +dreamed of. Fortune, position, all that this world can give, shall be +yours." + +"Never! never! If you could offer me the whole world, or take away from +me all that the world can give, it would make no difference to me. I +cannot tell what power you hold over me, whether of life and death, or of +wealth and poverty; but after talking to me of love, I should not have +thought you would have wronged me by suggesting any meaner motive. It is +only because we have been on friendly terms so long that I have listened +to you as I have done. You have said more than enough, and I beg you +will allow me to put an end to this interview." + +She rose to leave the room. But Murray Bradshaw had gone too far to +control himself,--he listened only to the rage which blinded him. + +"Not yet!" he said. "Stay one moment, and you shall know what your pride +and self-will have cost you!" + +Myrtle stood, arrested, whether by fear, or curiosity, or the passive +subjection of her muscles to his imperious will, it would be hard to say. + +Murray Bradshaw took out the spotted paper from his breast-pocket, and +held it up before her. "Look here!" he exclaimed. "This would have made +you rich,--it would have crowned you a queen in society,--it would have +given you all, and more than all, that you ever dreamed of luxury, of +splendor, of enjoyment; and I, who won it for you, would have taught you +how to make life yield every bliss it had in store to your wishes. You +reject my offer unconditionally?" + +Myrtle expressed her negative only by a slight contemptuous movement. + +Murray Bradshaw walked deliberately to the fireplace, and laid the +spotted paper upon the burning coals. It writhed and curled, blackened, +flamed, and in a moment was a cinder dropping into ashes. He folded his +arms, and stood looking at the wreck of Myrtle's future, the work of his +cruel hand. Strangely enough, Myrtle herself was fascinated, as it were, +by the apparent solemnity of this mysterious sacrifice. She had kept her +eyes steadily on him all the time, and was still gazing at the altar on +which her happiness had been in some way offered up, when the door was +opened by Kitty Fagan, and Master Byles Gridley was ushered into the +parlor. + +"Too late, old man! "Murray Bradshaw exclaimed, in a hoarse and savage +voice, as he passed out of the room, and strode through the entry and +down the avenue. It was the last time the old gate of The Poplars was to +open or close for him. The same day he left the village; and the next +time his name was mentioned it was as an officer in one of the regiments +just raised and about marching to the seat of war. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE SPOTTED PAPER. + +What Master Gridley may have said to Myrtle Hazard that served to calm +her after this exciting scene cannot now be recalled. That Murray +Bradshaw thought he was inflicting a deadly injury on her was plain +enough. That Master Gridley did succeed in convincing her that no great +harm had probably been done her is equally certain. + +Like all bachelors who have lived a lonely life, Master Byles Gridley had +his habits, which nothing short of some terrestrial convulsion--or +perhaps, in his case, some instinct that drove him forth to help somebody +in trouble--could possibly derange. After his breakfast, he always sat +and read awhile,--the paper, if a new one came to hand, or some pleasant +old author,--if a little neglected by the world of readers, he felt more +at ease with him, and loved him all the better. + +But on the morning after his interview with Myrtle Hazard, he had +received a letter which made him forget newspapers, old authors, almost +everything, for the moment. It was from the publisher with whom he had +had a conversation, it may be remembered, when he visited the city, and +was to this effect: That Our Firm propose to print and stereotype the +work originally published under the title of "Thoughts on the Universe"; +said work to be remodelled according to the plan suggested by the Author, +with the corrections, alterations, omissions, and additions proposed by +him; said work to be published under the following title, to wit: +________ _________: said work to be printed in 12mo, on paper of good +quality, from new types, etc., etc., and for every copy thereof printed +the author to receive, etc., etc. + +Master Gridley sat as in a trance, reading this letter over and over, to +know if it could be really so. So it really was. His book had +disappeared from the market long ago, as the elm seeds that carpet the +ground and never germinate disappear. At last it had got a certain value +as a curiosity for book-hunters. Some one of them, keener-eyed than the +rest, had seen that there was a meaning and virtue in this unsuccessful +book, for which there was a new audience educated since it had tried to +breathe before its time. Out of this had grown at last the publisher's +proposal. It was too much: his heart swelled with joy, and his eyes +filled with tears. + +How could he resist the temptation? He took down his own particular copy +of the book, which was yet to do him honor as its parent, and began +reading. As his eye fell on one paragraph after another, he nodded +approval of this sentiment or opinion, he shook his head as if +questioning whether this other were not to be modified or left out, he +condemned a third as being no longer true for him as when it was written, +and he sanctioned a fourth with his hearty approval. The reader may like +a few specimens from this early edition, now a rarity. He shall have +them, with Master Gridley's verbal comments. The book, as its name +implied, contained "Thoughts" rather than consecutive trains of reasoning +or continuous disquisitions. What he read and remarked upon were a few +of the more pointed statements which stood out in the chapters he was +turning over. The worth of the book must not be judged by these almost +random specimens. + +"THE BEST THOUGHT, LIKE THE MOST PERFECT DIGESTION, IS DONE +UNCONSCIOUSLY.--Develop that.--Ideas at compound interest in the +mind.--Be aye sticking in an idea,--while you're sleeping it'll be +growing. Seed of a thought to-day,--flower to-morrow--next week--ten +years from now, etc.--Article by and by for the.... + +"CAN THE INFINITE BE SUPPOSED TO SHIFT THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THE ULTIMATE +DESTINY OF ANY CREATED THING TO THE FINITE? OUR THEOLOGIANS PRETEND THAT +IT CAN. I DOUBT.--Heretical. Stet. + +"PROTESTANTISM MEANS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. BUT IT IS AFRAID OF ITS OWN +LOGIC.--Stet. No logical resting-place short of None of your business. + +"THE SUPREME SELF-INDULGENCE IS TO SURRENDER THE WILL TO A SPIRITUAL +DIRECTOR.--Protestantism gave up a great luxury.--Did it though? + +"ASIATIC MODES OF THOUGHT AND SPEECH DO NOT EXPRESS THE 'RELATIONS IN +WHICH THE AMERICAN FEELS HIM SELF TO STAND TO HIS SUPERIORS IN THIS OR +ANY OTHER SPHERE OF BEING. REPUBLICANISM MUST HAVE ITS OWN RELIGIOUS +PHRASEOLOGY, WHICH IS NOT THAT BORROWED FROM ORIENTAL DESPOTISMS. + +"IDOLS AND DOGMAS IN PLACE OF CHARACTER; PILLS AND THEORIES IN PLACE OF +WHOLESOME LIVING. SEE THE HISTORIES OF THEOLOGY AND MEDICINE +PASSIM.--Hits 'em. + +"'OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.' DO YOU MEAN TO SAY JEAN CHAUVIN, +THAT + 'HEAVEN LIES ABOUT US IN OUR INFANCY'? + +"WHY DO YOU COMPLAIN OF YOUR ORGANIZATION? YOUR SOUL WAS IN A HURRY, AND +MADE A RUSH FOR A BODY. THERE ARE PATIENT SPIRITS THAT HAVE WAITED FROM +ETERNITY, AND NEVER FOUND PARENTS FIT TO BE BORN OF.--How do you know +anything about all that? Dele. + +"WHAT SWEET, SMOOTH VOICES THE NEGROES HAVE! A HUNDRED GENERATIONS FED +ON BANANAS.--COMPARE THEM WITH OUR APPLE-EATING WHITE FOLKS!--It won't +do. Bananas came from the West Indies. + +"TO TELL A MAN'S TEMPERAMENT BY HIS HANDWRITING. SEE IF THE DOTS OF HIS +I'S RUN AHEAD OR NOT, AND IF THEY DO, HOW FAR.--I have tried that--on +myself. + +"MARRYING INTO SOME FAMILIES IS THE NEXT THING TO BEING CANONIZED.--Not +so true now as twenty or thirty years ago. As many bladders, but more +pins. + +"FISH AND DANDIES ONLY KEEP ON ICE.--Who will take? Explain in note how +all warmth approaching blood heat spoils fops and flounders. + +"FLYING IS A LOST ART AMONG MEN AND REPTILES. BATS FLY, AND MEN OUGHT +TO. TRY A LIGHT TURBINE. RISE A MILE STRAIGHT, FALL HALF A MILE +SLANTING,--RISE HALF A MILE STRAIGHT, FALL HALF A MILE SLANTING, AND SO +ON. OR SLANT UP AND SLANT DOWN.--Poh! You ain't such a fool as to think +that is new,--are you? + +"Put in my telegraph project. Central station. Cables with insulated +wires running to it from different quarters of the city. These form the +centripetal system. From central station, wires to all the livery +stables, messenger stands, provision shops, etc., etc. These form the +centrifugal system. Any house may have a wire in the nearest cable at +small cost. + +"DO YOU WANT TO BE REMEMBERED AFTER THE CONTINENTS HAVE GONE UNDER, AND +COME UP AGAIN, AND DRIED, AND BRED NEW RACES? HAVE YOUR NAME STAMPED ON +ALL YOUR PLATES AND CUPS AND SAUCERS. NOTHING OF YOU OR YOURS WILL LAST +LIKE THOSE. I NEVER SIT DOWN AT MY TABLE WITHOUT LOOKING AT THE CHINA +SERVICE, AND SAYING, 'HERE ARE MY MONUMENTS. THAT BUTTER-DISH IS MY URN. +THIS SOUP-PLATE IS MY MEMORIAL TABLET.' NO NEED OF A SKELETON AT MY +BANQUETS! I FEED FROM MY TOMBSTONE AND READ MY EPITAPH AT THE BOTTOM OF +EVERY TEACUP.--Good." + +He fell into a revery as he finished reading this last sentence. He +thought of the dim and dread future,--all the changes that it would bring +to him, to all the living, to the face of the globe, to the order of +earthly things. He saw men of a new race, alien to all that had ever +lived, excavating with strange, vast engines the old ocean-bed now become +habitable land. And as the great scoops turned out the earth they had +fetched up from the unexplored depths, a relic of a former simple +civilization revealed the fact that here a tribe of human beings had +lived and perished.--Only the coffee-cup he had in his hand half an hour +ago.--Where would he be then? and Mrs. Hopkins, and Gifted, and Susan, +and everybody? and President Buchanan? and the Boston State-House? and +Broadway?--O Lord, Lord, Lord! And the sun perceptibly smaller, +according to the astronomers, and the earth cooled down a number of +degrees, and inconceivable arts practised by men of a type yet undreamed +of, and all the fighting creeds merged in one great universal-- + +A knock at his door interrupted his revery. Miss Susan Posey informed +him that a gentleman was waiting below who wished to see him. + +"Show him up to my study, Susan Posey, if you please," said Master +Gridley. + +Mr. Penhallow presented himself at Mr. Gridley's door with a countenance +expressive of a very high state of excitement. + +"You have heard the news, Mr. Gridley, I suppose?" + +"What news, Mr. Penhallow?" + +"First, that my partner has left very unexpectedly to enlist in a +regiment just forming. Second, that the great land case is decided in +favor of the heirs of the late Malachi Withers." + +"Your partner must have known about it yesterday?" + +"He did, even before I knew it. He thought himself possessed of a very +important document, as you know, of which he has made, or means to make, +some use. You are aware of the artifice I employed to prevent any +possible evil consequences from any action of his. I have the genuine +document, of course. I wish you to go over with me to The Poplars, and I +should be glad to have good old Father Pemberton go with us; for it is a +serious matter, and will be a great surprise to more than one of the +family." + +They walked together to the old house, where the old clergyman had lived +for more than half a century. He was used to being neglected by the +people who ran after his younger colleague; and the attention paid him in +asking him to be present on an important occasion, as he understood this +to be, pleased him greatly. He smoothed his long white locks, and called +a grand-daughter to help make him look fitly for such an occasion, and, +being at last got into his grandest Sunday aspect, took his faithful +staff, and set out with the two gentlemen for The Poplars. On the way, +Mr. Penhallow explained to him the occasion of their visit, and the +general character of the facts he had to announce. He wished the +venerable minister to prepare Miss Silence Withers for a revelation which +would materially change her future prospects. He thought it might be +well, also, if he would say a few words to Myrtle Hazard, for whom a new +life, with new and untried temptations, was about to open. His business +was, as a lawyer, to make known to these parties the facts just come to +his own knowledge affecting their interests. He had asked Mr. Gridley to +go with him, as having intimate relations with one of the parties +referred to, and as having been the principal agent in securing to that +party the advantages which were to accrue to her from the new turn of +events. "You are a second parent to her, Mr. Gridley," he said. "Your +vigilance, your shrewdness, and your-spectacles have saved her. I hope +she knows the full extent of her obligations to you, and that she will +always look to you for counsel in all her needs. She will want a wise +friend, for she is to begin the world anew." + +What had happened, when she saw the three grave gentlemen at the door +early in the forenoon, Mistress Kitty Fagan could not guess. Something +relating to Miss Myrtle, no doubt: she wasn't goin' to be married right +off to Mr. Clement,--was she,--and no church, nor cake, nor anything? +The gentlemen were shown into the parlor. "Ask Miss Withers to go into +the library, Kitty," said Master Gridley. "Dr. Pemberton wishes to speak +with her." The good old man was prepared for a scene with Miss Silence. +He announced to her, in a kind and delicate way, that she must make up +her mind to the disappointment of certain expectations which she had long +entertained, and which, as her lawyer, Mr. Penhallow, had come to inform +her and others, were to be finally relinquished from this hour. + +To his great surprise, Miss Silence received this communication almost +cheerfully. It seemed more like a relief to her than anything else. Her +one dread in this world was her "responsibility "; and the thought that +she might have to account for ten talents hereafter, instead of one, had +often of late been a positive distress to her. There was also in her mind +a secret disgust at the thought of the hungry creatures who would swarm +round her if she should ever be in a position to bestow patronage. This +had grown upon her as the habits of lonely life gave her more and more of +that fastidious dislike to males in general, as such, which is not rare +in maidens who have seen the roses of more summers than politeness cares +to mention. + +Father Pemberton then asked if he could see Miss Myrtle Hazard a few +moments in the library before they went into the parlor, where they were +to meet Mr. Penhallow and Mr. Gridley, for the purpose of receiving the +lawyer's communication. + +What change was this which Myrtle had undergone since love had touched +her heart, and her visions of worldly enjoyment had faded before the +thought of sharing and ennobling the life of one who was worthy of her +best affections,--of living for another, and of finding her own noblest +self in that divine office of woman? She had laid aside the bracelet +which she had so long worn as a kind of charm as well as an ornament. +One would have said her features had lost something of that look of +imperious beauty which had added to her resemblance to the dead woman +whose glowing portrait hung upon her wall. And if it could be that, +after so many generations, the blood of her who had died for her faith +could show in her descendants veins, and the soul of that elect lady of +her race look out from her far-removed offspring's dark eyes, such a +transfusion of the martyr's life and spiritual being might well seem to +manifest itself in Myrtle Hazard. + +The large-hearted old man forgot his scholastic theory of human nature as +he looked upon her face. He thought he saw in her the dawning of that +grace which some are born with; which some, like Myrtle, only reach +through many trials and dangers; which some seem to show for a while and +then lose; which too many never reach while they wear the robes of earth, +but which speaks of the kingdom of heaven already begun in the heart of a +child of earth. He told her simply the story of the occurrences which +had brought them together in the old house, with the message the lawyer +was to deliver to its inmates. He wished to prepare her for what might +have been too sudden a surprise. + +But Myrtle was not wholly unprepared for some such revelation. There was +little danger that any such announcement would throw her mind from its +balance after the inward conflict through which she had been passing. +For her lover had left her almost as soon as he had told her the story of +his passion, and the relation in which he stood to her. He, too, had +gone to answer his country's call to her children, not driven away by +crime and shame and despair, but quitting all--his new-born happiness, +the art in which he was an enthusiast, his prospects of success and +honor--to obey the higher command of duty. War was to him, as to so many +of the noble youth who went forth, only organized barbarism, hateful but +for the sacred cause which alone redeemed it from the curse that blasted +the first murderer. God only knew the sacrifice such young men as he +made. + +How brief Myrtle's dream had been! She almost doubted, at some moments, +whether she would not awake from it, as from her other visions, and find +it all unreal. There was no need of fearing any undue excitement of her +mind after the alternations of feeling she had just experienced. Nothing +seemed of much moment to her which could come from without,--her real +world was within, and the light of its day and the breath of its life +came from her love, made holy by the self-forgetfulness on both sides +which was born with it. + +Only one member of the household was in danger of finding the excitement +more than she could bear. Miss Cynthia knew that all Murray Bradshaw's +plans, in which he had taken care that she should have a personal +interest, had utterly failed. What he had done with the means of revenge +in his power,--if, indeed, they were still in his power,--she did not +know. She only knew that there had been a terrible scene, and that he +had gone, leaving it uncertain whether he would ever return. It was with +fear and trembling that she heard the summons which went forth, that the +whole family should meet in the parlor to listen to a statement from Mr. +Penhallow. They all gathered as requested, and sat round the room, with +the exception of Mistress Kitty Fagan, who knew her place too well to be +sittin' down with the likes o' them, and stood with attentive ears in the +doorway. + +Mr. Penhallow then read from a printed paper the decision of the Supreme +Court in the land case so long pending, where the estate of the late +Malachi Withers was the claimant, against certain parties pretending to +hold under an ancient grant. The decision was in favor of the estate. + +"This gives a great property to the heirs," Mr. Penhallow remarked, "and +the question as to who these heirs are has to be opened. For the will +under which Silence Withers, sister of the deceased, has inherited is +dated some years previous to the decease, and it was not very strange +that a will of later date should be discovered. Such a will has been +discovered. It is the instrument I have here." + +Myrtle Hazard opened her eyes very widely, for the paper Mr. Penlallow +held looked exactly like that which Murray Bradshaw had burned, and, what +was curious, had some spots on it just like some she had noticed on that. + +"This will," Mr. Penhallow said, "signed by witnesses dead or absent from +this place, makes a disposition of the testator's property in some +respects similar to that of the previous one, but with a single change, +which proves to be of very great importance." + +Mr. Penhallow proceeded to read the will. The important change in the +disposition of the property was this: in case the land claim was decided +in favor of the estate, then, in addition to the small provision made for +Myrtle Hazard, the property so coming to the estate should all go to her. +There was no question about the genuineness and the legal sufficiency of +this instrument. Its date was not very long after the preceding one, at +a period when, as was well known, he had almost given up the hope of +gaining his case, and when the property was of little value compared to +that which it had at present. + +A long silence followed this reading. Then, to the surprise of all, Miss +Silence Withers rose, and went to Myrtle Hazard, and wished her joy with +every appearance of sincerity. She was relieved of a great +responsibility. Myrtle was young and could bear it better. She hoped +that her young relative would live long to enjoy the blessings Providence +had bestowed upon her, and to use them for the good of the community, and +especially the promotion of the education of deserving youth. If some +fitting person could be found to advise Myrtle, whose affairs would +require much care, it would be a great relief to her. + +They all went up to Myrtle and congratulated her on her change of +fortune. Even Cynthia Badlam got out a phrase or two which passed muster +in the midst of the general excitement. As for Kitty Fagan, she could +not say a word, but caught Myrtle's hand and kissed it as if it belonged +to her own saint; and then, suddenly applying her apron to her eyes, +retreated from a scene which was too much for her, in a state of complete +mental beatitude and total bodily discomfiture. + +Then Silence asked the old minister to make a prayer, and he stretched +his hands up to Heaven, and called down all the blessings of Providence +upon all the household, and especially upon this young handmaiden, who +was to be tried with prosperity, and would need all aid from above to +keep her from its dangers. + +Then Mr. Penhallow asked Myrtle if she had any choice as to the friend +who should have charge of her affairs. Myrtle turned to Master Byles +Gridley, and said, "You have been my friend and protector so far, will +you continue to be so hereafter?" + +Master Gridley tried very hard to begin a few words of thanks to her for +her preference, but finding his voice a little uncertain, contented +himself with pressing her hand and saying, "Most willingly, my dear +daughter!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + + + +CONCLUSION. + +The same day the great news of Myrtle Hazard's accession to fortune came +out, the secret was told that she had promised herself in marriage to Mr. +Clement Lindsay. But her friends hardly knew how to congratulate her on +this last event. Her lover was gone, to risk his life, not improbably to +lose it, or to come home a wreck, crippled by wounds, or worn out with +disease. + +Some of them wondered to see her so cheerful in such a moment of trial. +They could not know how the manly strength of Clement's determination had +nerved her for womanly endurance. They had not learned that a great +cause makes great souls, or reveals them to themselves,--a lesson taught +by so many noble examples in the times that followed. Myrtle's only +desire seemed to be to labor in some way to help the soldiers and their +families. She appeared to have forgotten everything for this duty; she +had no time for regrets, if she were disposed to indulge them, and she +hardly asked a question as to the extent of the fortune which had fallen +to her. + +The next number of the "Banner and Oracle" contained two announcements +which she read with some interest when her attention was called to them. +They were as follows: + +"A fair and accomplished daughter of this village comes, by the late +decision of the Supreme Court, into possession of a property estimated at +a million of dollars or more. It consists of a large tract of land +purchased many years ago by the late Malachi Withers, now become of +immense value by the growth of a city in its neighborhood, the opening of +mines, etc., etc. It is rumored that the lovely and highly educated +heiress has formed a connection looking towards matrimony with a certain +distinguished artist." + +"Our distinguished young townsman, William Murray Bradshaw, Esq., has +been among the first to respond to the call of the country for champions +to defend her from traitors. We understand that he has obtained a +captaincy in the __th regiment, about to march to the threatened seat of +war. May victory perch on his banners!" + +The two lovers, parted by their own self-sacrificing choice in the very +hour that promised to bring them so much happiness, labored for the +common cause during all the terrible years of warfare, one in the camp +and the field, the other in the not less needful work which the good +women carried on at home, or wherever their services were needed. +Clement--now Captain Lindsay--returned at the end of his first campaign +charged with a special office. Some months later, after one of the great +battles, he was sent home wounded. He wore the leaf on his shoulder +which entitled him to be called Major Lindsay. He recovered from his +wound only too rapidly, for Myrtle had visited him daily in the military +hospital where he had resided for treatment; and it was bitter parting. +The telegraph wires were thrilling almost hourly with messages of death, +and the long pine boxes came by almost every train,--no need of asking +what they held. + +Once more he came, detailed on special duty, and this time with the eagle +on his shoulder,--he was Colonel Lindsay. The lovers could not part +again of their own free will. Some adventurous women had followed their +husbands to the camp, and Myrtle looked as if she could play the part of +the Maid of Saragossa on occasion. So Clement asked her if she would +return with him as his wife; and Myrtle answered, with as much +willingness to submit as a maiden might fairly show under such +circumstances, that she would do his bidding. Thereupon, with the +shortest possible legal notice, Father Pemberton was sent for, and the +ceremony was performed in the presence of a few witnesses in the large +parlor at The Poplars, which was adorned with flowers, and hung round +with all the portraits of the dead members of the family, summoned as +witnesses to the celebration. One witness looked on with unmoved +features, yet Myrtle thought there was a more heavenly smile on her faded +lips than she had ever seen before beaming from the canvas,--it was Ann +Holyoake, the martyr to her faith, the guardian spirit of Myrtle's +visions, who seemed to breathe a holier benediction than any words--even +those of the good old Father Pemberton himself--could convey. + +They went back together to the camp. From that period until the end of +the war, Myrtle passed her time between the life of the tent and that of +the hospital. In the offices of mercy which she performed for the sick +and the wounded and the dying, the dross of her nature seemed to be +burned away. The conflict of mingled lives in her blood had ceased. No +lawless impulses usurped the place of that serene resolve which had grown +strong by every exercise of its high prerogative. If she had been called +now to die for any worthy cause, her race would have been ennobled by a +second martyr, true to the blood of her who died under the cruel Queen. + +Many sad sights she saw in the great hospital where she passed some +months at intervals,--one never to be forgotten. An officer was brought +into the ward where she was in attendance. "Shot through the +lungs,--pretty nearly gone." + +She went softly to his bedside. He was breathing with great difficulty; +his face was almost convulsed with the effort, but she recognized him in +a moment; it was Murray Bradshaw,--Captain Bradshaw, as she knew by the +bars on his coat flung upon the bed where he had just been laid. + +She addressed him by name, tenderly as if he had been a dear brother; she +saw on his face that hers were to be the last kind words he would ever +hear. + +He turned his glazing eyes upon her. "Who are you?" he said in a feeble +voice. + +"An old friend," she answered; "you knew me as Myrtle Hazard." + +He started. "You by my bedside! You caring for me!--for me, that burned +the title to your fortune to ashes before your eyes! You can't forgive +that,--I won't believe it! Don't you hate me, dying as I am?" + +Myrtle was used to maintaining a perfect calmness of voice and +countenance, and she held her feelings firmly down. "I have nothing to +forgive you, Mr. Bradshaw. You may have meant to do me wrong, but +Providence raised up a protector for me. The paper you burned was not +the original,--it was a copy substituted for it--" + +"And did the old man outwit me after all?" he cried out, rising suddenly +in bed, and clasping his hands behind his head to give him a few more +gasps of breath. "I knew he was cunning, but I thought I was his match. +It must have been Byles Gridley,--nobody else. And so the old man beat +me after all, and saved you from ruin! Thank God that it came out so! +Thank God! I can die now. Give me your hand, Myrtle." + +She took his hand, and held it until it gently loosed its hold, and he +ceased to breathe. Myrtle's creed was a simple one, with more of trust +and love in it than of systematized articles of belief. She cherished +the fond hope that these last words of one who had erred so miserably +were a token of some blessed change which the influences of the better +world might carry onward until he should have outgrown the sins and the +weaknesses of his earthly career. + +Soon after this she rejoined her husband in the camp. From time to time +they received stray copies of the "Banner and Oracle," which, to Myrtle +especially, were full of interest, even to the last advertisement. A few +paragraphs may be reproduced here which relate to persons who have +figured in this narrative. + + "TEMPLE OF HYMEN. + +"Married, on the 6th instant, Fordyce Hurlbut, M. D., to Olive, only +daughter of the Rev. Ambrose Eveleth. The editor of this paper returns +his acknowledgments for a bountiful slice of the wedding-cake. May their +shadows never be less!" + +Not many weeks after this appeared the following: + +"Died in this place, on the 28th instant, the venerable Lemuel Hurlbut, +M. D., at the great age of XCVI years. + +"'With the ancient is wisdom, and in length of days understanding.'" + +Myrtle recalled his kind care of her in her illness, and paid the tribute +of a sigh to his memory,--there was nothing in a death like his to call +for any aching regret. + +The usual routine of small occurrences was duly recorded in the village +paper for some weeks longer, when she was startled and shocked by +receiving a number containing the following paragraph: + + CALAMITOUS ACCIDENT + +"It is known to our readers that the steeple of the old meeting-house was +struck by lightning about a month ago. The frame of the building was a +good deal jarred by the shock, but no danger was apprehended from the +injury it had received. On Sunday last the congregation came together as +usual. The Rev. Mr. Stoker was alone m the pulpit, the Rev. Doctor +Pemberton having been detained by slight indisposition. The sermon was +from the text, "The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard +shall lie down with the kid." (Isaiah xi. 6.) The pastor described the +millennium as--the reign of love and peace, in eloquent and impressive +language. He was in the midst of the prayer which follows the sermon, +and had jest put up a petition that the spirit of affection and faith and +trust might grow up and prevail among the flock of which he was the +shepherd, more especially those dear lambs whom he gathered with his arm, +and carried in his bosom, when the old sounding-board, which had hung +safely for nearly a century,--loosened, no doubt by the bolt which had +fallen on the church,--broke from its fastenings, and fell with a loud +crash upon the pulpit, crushing the Rev. Mr. Stoker under its ruins. The +scene that followed beggars description. Cries and shrieks resounded +through the horse. Two or three young women fainted entirely away. Mr. +Penhallow, Deacon Rumrill, Gifted Hopkins, Esq., and others, came forward +immediately, and after much effort succeeded in removing the wreck of the +sounding-board, and extricating their unfortunate pastor. He was not +fatally injured, it is hoped; but, sad to relate, he received such a +violent blow upon the spine of the back, that palsy of the lower +extremities is like to ensue. He is at present lying entirely helpless. +Every attention is paid to him by his affectionately devoted family." + +Myrtle had hardly got over the pain which the reading of this unfortunate +occurrence gave her, when her eyes were gladdened by the following +pleasing piece of intelligence, contained in a subsequent number of the +village paper: + + IMPOSING CEREMONY. + +"The Reverend Doctor Pemberton performed the impressive rite of baptism +upon the first-born child of our distinguished townsman, Gifted Hopkins, +Esq., the Bard of Oxbow Village, and Mrs. Susan P. Hopkins, his amiable +and respected lady. The babe conducted himself with singular propriety +on this occasion. He received the Christian name of Byron Tennyson +Browning. May be prove worthy of his name and his parentage!" + +The end of the war came at last, and found Colonel Lindsay among its +unharmed survivors. He returned with Myrtle to her native village, and +they established themselves, at the request of Miss Silence Withers, in +the old family mansion. Miss Cynthia, to whom Myrtle made a generous +allowance, had gone to live in a town not many miles distant, where she +had a kind of home on sufferance, as well as at The Poplars. This was a +convenience just then, because Nurse Byloe was invited to stay with them +for a month or two; and one nurse and two single women under the same +roof keep each other in a stew all the time, as the old dame somewhat +sharply remarked. + +Master Byles Gridley had been appointed Myrtle's legal protector, and, +with the assistance of Mr. Penhallow, had brought the property she +inherited into a more manageable and productive form; so that, when +Clement began his fine studio behind the old mansion, he felt that at +least he could pursue his art, or arts, if he chose to give himself to +sculpture, without that dreadful hag, Necessity, standing by him to pinch +the features of all his ideals, and give them something of her own +likeness. + +Silence Withers was more cheerful now that she had got rid of her +responsibility. She embellished her spare person a little more than in +former years. These young people looked so happy! Love was not so +unendurable, perhaps, after all. No woman need despair,--especially if +she has a house over her, and a snug little property. A worthy man, a +former missionary, of the best principles, but of a slightly jocose and +good-humored habit, thought that he could piece his widowed years with +the not insignificant, fraction of life left to Miss Silence, to their +mutual advantage. He came to the village, therefore, where Father +Pemberton was very glad to have him supply the pulpit in the place of his +unfortunate disabled colleague. The courtship soon began, and was brisk +enough; for the good man knew there was no time to lose at his period of +life,--or hers either, for that matter. It was a rather odd specimen of +love-making; for he was constantly trying to subdue his features to a +gravity which they were not used to, and she was as constantly +endeavoring to be as lively as possible, with the innocent desire of +pleasing her light-hearted suitor. + +"Vieille fille fait jeune mariee." Silence was ten years younger as a +bride than she had seemed as a lone woman. One would have said she had +got out of the coach next to the hearse, and got into one some half a +dozen behind it,--where there is often good and reasonably cheerful +conversation going on about the virtues of the deceased, the probable +amount of his property, or the little slips he may have committed, and +where occasionally a subdued pleasantry at his expense sets the four +waistcoats shaking that were lifting with sighs a half-hour ago in the +house of mourning. But Miss Silence, that was, thought that two +families, with all the possible complications which time might bring, +would be better in separate establishments. She therefore proposed +selling The Poplars to Myrtle and her husband, and removing to a house in +the village, which would be large enough for them, at least for the +present. So the young folks bought the old house, and paid a mighty good +price for it; and enlarged it, and beautified and glorified it, and one +fine morning went together down to the Widow Hopkins's, whose residence +seemed in danger of being a little crowded,--for Gifted lived there with +his Susan,--and what had happened might happen again,--and gave Master +Byles Gridley a formal and most persuasively worded invitation to come up +and make his home with them at The Poplars. + +Now Master Gridley has been betrayed into palpable and undisguised +weakness at least once in the presence of this assembly, who are looking +upon him almost for the last time before they part from him, and see his +face no more. Let us not inquire too curiously, then, how he received +this kind proposition. It is enough, that, when he found that a new +study had been built on purpose for him, and a sleeping-room attached to +it so that he could live there without disturbing anybody if he chose, he +consented to remove there for a while, and that he was there established +amidst great rejoicing. + +Cynthia Badlam had fallen of late into poor health. She found at last +that she was going; and as she had a little property of her own,--as +almost all poor relations have, only there is not enough of it,--she was +much exercised in her mind as to the final arrangements to be made +respecting its disposition. The Rev. Dr. Pemberton was one day surprised +by a message, that she wished to have an interview with him. He rode +over to the town in which she was residing, and there had a long +conversation with her upon this matter. When this was settled, her mind +seemed too be more at ease. She died with a comfortable assurance that +she was going to a better world, and with a bitter conviction that it +would be hard to find one that would offer her a worse lot than being a +poor relation in this. + +Her little property was left to Rev. Eliphalet Pemberton and Jacob +Penhallow, Esq., to be by them employed for such charitable purposes as +they should elect, educational or other. Father Pemberton preached an +admirable funeral sermon, in which he praised her virtues, known to this +people among whom she had long lived, and especially that crowning act by +which she devoted all she had to purposes of charity-and benevolence. + +The old clergyman seemed to have renewed his youth since the misfortune +of his colleague had incapacitated him from labor. He generally preached +in the forenoon now, and to the great acceptance of the people,--for the +truth was that the honest minister who had married Miss Silence was not +young enough or good-looking enough to be an object of personal +attentions like the Rev. Joseph Bellamy Stoker, and the old minister +appeared to great advantage contrasted with him in the pulpit. Poor Mr. +Stoker was now helpless, faithfully and tenderly waited upon by his own +wife, who had regained her health and strength,--in no small measure, +perhaps, from the great need of sympathy and active aid which her +unfortunate husband now experienced. It was an astonishment to herself +when she found that she who had so long been served was able to serve +another. Some who knew his errors thought his accident was a judgment; +but others believed that it was only a mercy in disguise,--it snatched +him roughly from his sin, but it opened his heart to gratitude towards +her whom his neglect could not alienate, and through gratitude to +repentance and better thoughts. Bathsheba had long ago promised herself +to Cyprian Eveleth; and, as he was about to become the rector of a parish +in the next town, the marriage was soon to take place. + +How beautifully serene Master Byles Gridley's face was growing! Clement +loved to study its grand lines, which had so much strength and fine +humanity blended in them. He was so fascinated by their noble expression +that he sometimes seemed to forget himself, and looked at him more like +an artist taking his portrait than like an admiring friend. He +maintained that Master Gridley had a bigger bump of benevolence and as +large a one of cautiousness as the two people most famous for the size of +these organs on the phrenological chart he showed him, and proved it, or +nearly proved it, by careful measurements of his head. Master Gridley +laughed, and read him a passage on the pseudo-sciences out of his book. + +The disposal of Miss Cynthia's bequest was much discussed in the village. +Some wished the trustees would use it to lay the foundations of a public +library. Others thought it should be applied for the relief of the +families of soldiers who had fallen in the war. Still another set would +take it to build a monument to the memory of those heroes. The trustees +listened with the greatest candor to all these gratuitous hints. It was, +however, suggested, in a well-written anonymous article which appeared in +the village paper, that it was desirable to follow the general lead of +the testator's apparent preference. The trustees were at liberty to do +as they saw fit; but, other things being equal, same educational object +should be selected. + +If there were any orphan children in the place, it would seem to be very +proper to devote the moderate sum bequeathed to educating them. The +trustees recognized the justice of this suggestion. Why not apply it to +the instruction and maintenance of those two pretty and promising +children, virtually orphans, whom the charitable Mrs. Hopkins had cared +for so long without any recompense, and at a cost which would soon become +beyond her means? The good people of the neighborhood accepted this as +the best solution of the difficulty. It was agreed upon at length by the +trustees, that the Cynthia Badlam Fund for Educational Purposes should be +applied for the benefit of the two foundlings, known as Isosceles and +Helminthia Hopkins. + +Master Bytes Gridley was greatly exercised about the two "preposterous +names," as he called them, which in a moment of eccentric impulse he had +given to these children of nature. He ventured to hint as much to Mrs. +Hopkins. The good dame was vastly surprised. She thought they was about +as pooty names as anybody had had given 'em in the village. And they was +so handy, spoke short, Sossy and Minthy,--she never should know how to +call 'em anything else. + +"But my dear Mrs. Hopkins," Master Gridley urged, "if you knew the +meaning they have to the ears of scholars, you would see that I did very +wrong to apply such absurd names to my little fellow-creatures, and that +I am bound to rectify my error. More than that, my dear madam, I mean to +consult you as to the new names; and if we can fix upon proper and +pleasing ones, it is my intention to leave a pretty legacy in my will to +these interesting children." + +"Mr. Gridley," said Mrs. Hopkins, "you're the best man I ever see, or +ever shall see, . . . except my poor dear Ammi . . . . I 'll do +jest as you say about that, or about anything else in all this livin' +world." + +"Well, then, Mrs. Hopkins, what shall be the boy's name?" + +"Byles Gridley Hopkins!" she answered instantly. + +"Good Lord!" said Mr. Gridley, "think a minute, my dear madam. I will +not say one word,--only think a minute, and mention some name that will +not suggest quite so many winks and whispers." + +She did think something less than a minute, and then said aloud, "Abraham +Lincoln Hopkins." + +"Fifteen thousand children have been so christened during the past year, +on a moderate computation." + +"Do think of some name yourself, Mr. Gridley; I shall like anything that +you like. To think of those dear babes having a fund--if that's the +right name--on purpose for 'em, and a promise of a legacy, I hope they +won't get that till they're a hundred year old!" + +"What if we change Isosceles to Theodore, Mrs. Hopkins? That means the +gift of God, and the child has been a gift from Heaven, rather than a +burden." + +Mrs. Hopkins seized her apron, and held it to her eyes. She was weeping. +"Theodore!" she said, "Theodore! My little brother's name, that I buried +when I was only eleven year old. Drownded. The dearest little child +that ever you see. I have got his little mug with Theodore on it now. +Kep' o' purpose. Our little Sossy shall have it. Theodore P. +Hopkins,--sha'n't it be, Mr. Gridley?" + +"Well, if you say so; but why that P., Mrs. Hopkins? Theodore Parker, is +it?" + +"Doesn't P. stand for Pemberton, and isn't Father Pemberton the best man +in the world--next to you, Mr. Gridley?" + +"Well, well, Mrs. Hopkins, let it be so, if you are suited, I am. Now +about Helminthia; there can't be any doubt about what we ought to call +her,--surely the friend of orphans should be remembered in naming one of +the objects of her charity." + +"Cynthia Badlam Fund Hopkins," said the good woman triumphantly,--"is +that what you mean?" + +"Suppose we leave out one of the names,--four are too many. I think the +general opinion will be that Hehninthia should unite the names of her two +benefactresses,--Cynthia Badlam Hopkins." + +"Why, law! Mr. Gridley, is n't that nice?--Minthy and Cynthy,--there +ain't but one letter of difference! Poor Cynthy would be pleased if she +could know that one of our babes was to be called after her. She was +dreadful fond of children." + +On one of the sweetest Sundays that ever made Oxbow Village lovely, the +Rev. Dr. Eliphalet Pembertan was summoned to officiate at three most +interesting ceremonies,--a wedding and two christenings, one of the +latter a double one. + +The first was celebrated at the house of the Rev. Mr. Stoker, between the +Rev. Cyprian Eveleth and Bathsheba, daughter of the first-named +clergyman. He could not be present on account of his great infirmity, +but the door of his chamber was left open that he might hear the marriage +service performed. The old, white-haired minister, assisted, as the +papers said, by the bridegroom's father, conducted the ceremony according +to the Episcopal form. When he came to those solemn words in which the +husband promises fidelity to the wife so long as they both shall live, +the nurse, who was watching, near the poor father, saw him bury his face +in his pillow, and heard him murmur the words, "God be merciful to me a +sinner!" + +The christenings were both to take place at the same service, in the old +meeting-house. Colonel Clement Lindsay and Myrtle his wife came in, and +stout Nurse Byloe bore their sturdy infant in her arms. A slip of paper +was handed to the Reverend Doctor on which these words were +written:--"The name is Charles Hazard." + +The solemn and touching rite was then performed; and Nurse Byloe +disappeared with the child, its forehead glistening with the dew of its +consecration. + +Then, hand in hand, like the babes in the wood, marched up the broad +aisle--marshalled by Mrs. Hopkins in front, and Mrs. Gifted Hopkins +bringing up the rear--the two children hitherto known as Isosceles and +Helminthia. They had been well schooled, and, as the mysterious and to +them incomprehensible ceremony was enacted, maintained the most stoical +aspect of tranquillity. In Mrs. Hopkins's words, "They looked like +picters, and behaved like angels." + +That evening, Sunday evening as it was, there was a quiet meeting of some +few friends at The Poplars. It was such a great occasion that the +Sabbatical rules, never strict about Sunday evening,--which was, strictly +speaking, secular time,--were relaxed. Father Pemberton was there, and +Master Byles Gridley, of course, and the Rev. Ambrose Eveleth, with his +son and his daughter-in-law, Bathsheba, and her mother, now in +comfortable health, aunt Silence and her husband, Doctor Hurlbut and his +wife (Olive Eveleth that was), Jacob Penhallow, Esq., Mrs. Hopkins, her +son and his wife (Susan Posey that was), the senior deacon of the old +church (the admirer of the great Scott), the Editor-in-chief of the +"Banner and Oracle," and in the background Nurse Byloe and the privileged +servant, Mistress Kitty Fagan, with a few others whose names we need not +mention. + +The evening was made pleasant with sacred music, and the fatigues of two +long services repaired by such simple refections as would not turn the +holy day into a day of labor. A large paper copy of the new edition of +Byles Gridley's remarkable work was lying on the table. He never looked +so happy,--could anything fill his cup fuller? In the course of the +evening Clement spoke of the many trials through which they had passed in +common with vast numbers of their countrymen, and some of those peculiar +dangers which Myrtle had had to encounter in the course of a life more +eventful, and attended with more risks, perhaps, than most of them +imagined. But Myrtle, he said, had always been specially cared for. He +wished them to look upon the semblance of that protecting spirit who had +been faithful to her in her gravest hours of trial and danger. If they +would follow him into one of the lesser apartments up stairs they would +have an opportunity to do so. + +Myrtle wondered a little, but followed with the rest. They all ascended +to the little projecting chamber, through the window of which her scarlet +jacket caught the eyes of the boys paddling about on the river in those +early days when Cyprian Eveleth gave it the name of the Fire-hang-bird's +Nest. + +The light fell softly but clearly on the dim and faded canvas from which +looked the saintly features of the martyred woman, whose continued +presence with her descendants was the old family legend. But underneath +it Myrtle was surprised to see a small table with some closely covered +object upon it. It was a mysterious arrangement, made without any +knowledge on her part. + +"Now, then, Kitty!" Mr. Lindsay said. + +Kitty Fagan, who had evidently been taught her part, stepped forward, and +removed the cloth which concealed the unknown object. It was a lifelike +marble bust of Master Byles Gridley. + +"And this is what you have been working at so long,--is it, Clement?" +Myrtle said. + +"Which is the image of your protector, Myrtle?", he answered, smiling. + +Myrtle Hazard Lindsay walked up to the bust and kissed its marble +forehead, saying, "This is the face of my Guardian Angel." forehead, +saying, "This is the face of my Guardian Angel." + + + + + + +A MORTAL ANTIPATHY + +By Oliver Wendell Holmes + + + +PREFACE. + + +"A MORTAL ANTIPATHY" was a truly hazardous experiment. A very wise and +very distinguished physician who is as much at home in literature as he +is in science and the practice of medicine, wrote to me in referring to +this story: "I should have been afraid of my subject." He did not explain +himself, but I can easily understand that he felt the improbability of +the, physiological or pathological occurrence on which the story is +founded to be so great that the narrative could hardly be rendered +plausible. I felt the difficulty for myself as well as for my readers, +and it was only by recalling for our consideration a series of +extraordinary but well-authenticated facts of somewhat similar character +that I could hope to gain any serious attention to so strange a +narrative. + +I need not recur to these wonderful stories. There is, however, one, not +to be found on record elsewhere, to which I would especially call the +reader's attention. It is that of the middle-aged man, who assured me +that he could never pass a tall hall clock without an indefinable terror. +While an infant in arms the heavy weight of one of these tall clocks had +fallen with aloud crash and produced an impression on his nervous system +which he had never got over. + +The lasting effect of a shock received by the sense of sight or that of +hearing is conceivable enough. + +But there is another sense, the nerves of which are in close relation +with the higher organs of consciousness. The strength of the +associations connected with the function of the first pair of nerves, the +olfactory, is familiar to most persons in their own experience and as +related by others. Now we know that every human being, as well as every +other living organism, carries its own distinguishing atmosphere. If a +man's friend does not know it, his dog does, and can track him anywhere +by it. This personal peculiarity varies with the age and conditions of +the individual. It may be agreeable or otherwise, a source of attraction +or repulsion, but its influence is not less real, though far less obvious +and less dominant, than in the lower animals. It was an atmospheric +impression of this nature which associated itself with a terrible shock +experienced by the infant which became the subject of this story. The +impression could not be outgrown, but it might possibly be broken up by +some sudden change in the nervous system effected by a cause as potent as +the one which had produced the disordered condition. + +This is the best key that I can furnish to a story which must have +puzzled some, repelled others, and failed to interest many who did not +suspect the true cause of the mysterious antipathy. + +BEVERLY FARMS, MASS., August, 1891. +O. W. H. + + + + +A MORTAL ANTIPATHY. + +FIRST OPENING OF THE NEW PORTFOLIO. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + +"And why the New Portfolio, I would ask?" + +Pray, do you remember, when there was an accession to the nursery in +which you have a special interest, whether the new-comer was commonly +spoken of as a baby? Was it not, on the contrary, invariably, under all +conditions, in all companies, by the whole household, spoken of as the +baby? And was the small receptacle provided for it commonly spoken of as +a cradle; or was it not always called the cradle, as if there were no +other in existence? + +Now this New Portfolio is the cradle in which I am to rock my new-born +thoughts, and from which I am to lift them carefully and show them to +callers, namely, to the whole family of readers belonging to my list of +intimates, and such other friends as may drop in by accident. And so it +shall have the definite article, and not be lost in the mob of its +fellows as a portfolio. + +There are a few personal and incidental matters of which I wish to say +something before reaching the contents of the Portfolio, whatever these +may be. I have had other portfolios before this,--two, more especially, +and the first thing I beg leave to introduce relates to these. + +Do not throw this volume down, or turn to another page, when I tell you +that the earliest of them, that of which I now am about to speak, was +opened more than fifty years ago. This is a very dangerous confession, +for fifty years make everything hopelessly old-fashioned, without giving +it the charm of real antiquity. If I could say a hundred years, now, my +readers would accept all I had to tell them with a curious interest; but +fifty years ago,--there are too many talkative old people who know all +about that time, and at best half a century is a half-baked bit of ware. +A coin-fancier would say that your fifty-year-old facts have just enough +of antiquity to spot them with rust, and not enough to give them--the +delicate and durable patina which is time's exquisite enamel. + +When the first Portfolio was opened the coin of the realm bore for its +legend,--or might have borne if the more devout hero-worshippers could +have had their way,--Andreas Jackson, Populi Gratia, Imp. Caesar. Aug. +Div., Max., etc., etc. I never happened to see any gold or silver with +that legend, but the truth is I was not very familiarly acquainted with +the precious metals at that period of my career, and, there might have +been a good deal of such coin in circulation without my handling it, or +knowing much about it. + +Permit me to indulge in a few reminiscences of that far-off time. + +In those days the Athenaeum Picture Gallery was a principal centre of +attraction to young Boston people and their visitors. Many of us got our +first ideas of art, to say nothing of our first lessons in the +comparatively innocent flirtations of our city's primitive period, in +that agreeable resort of amateurs and artists. + +How the pictures on those walls in Pearl Street do keep their places in +the mind's gallery! Trumbull's Sortie of Gibraltar, with red enough in +it for one of our sunset after-glows; and Neagle's full-length portrait +of the blacksmith in his shirt-sleeves; and Copley's long-waistcoated +gentlemen and satin-clad ladies,--they looked like gentlemen and ladies, +too; and Stuart's florid merchants and high-waisted matrons; and +Allston's lovely Italian scenery and dreamy, unimpassioned women, +not forgetting Florimel in full flight on her interminable +rocking-horse,--you may still see her at the Art Museum; and the rival +landscapes of Doughty and Fisher, much talked of and largely praised in +those days; and the Murillo,--not from Marshal Soup's collection; and the +portrait of Annibale Caracci by himself, which cost the Athenaeum a +hundred dollars; and Cole's allegorical pictures, and his immense and +dreary canvas, in which the prostrate shepherds and the angel in Joseph's +coat of many colors look as if they must have been thrown in for nothing; +and West's brawny Lear tearing his clothes to pieces. But why go on with +the catalogue, when most of these pictures can be seen either at the +Athenaeum building in Beacon Street or at the Art Gallery, and admired or +criticised perhaps more justly, certainly not more generously, than in +those earlier years when we looked at them through the japanned +fish-horns? + +If one happened to pass through Atkinson Street on his way to the +Athenaeum, he would notice a large, square, painted, brick house, in +which lived a leading representative of old-fashioned coleopterous +Calvinism, and from which emerged one of the liveliest of literary +butterflies. The father was editor of the "Boston Recorder," a very +respectable, but very far from amusing paper, most largely patronized by +that class of the community which spoke habitually of the first day of +the week as "the Sahbuth." The son was the editor of several different +periodicals in succession, none of them over severe or serious, and of +many pleasant books, filled with lively descriptions of society, which he +studied on the outside with a quick eye for form and color, and with a +certain amount of sentiment, not very deep, but real, though somewhat +frothed over by his worldly experiences. + +Nathaniel Parker Willis was in full bloom when I opened my first +Portfolio. He had made himself known by his religious poetry, published +in his father's paper, I think, and signed "Roy." He had started the +"American Magazine," afterwards merged in the "New York Mirror." He had +then left off writing scripture pieces, and taken to lighter forms of +verse. He had just written + + "I'm twenty-two, I'm twenty-two, + They idly give me joy, + As if I should be glad to know + That I was less a boy." + +He was young, therefore, and already famous. He came very near being +very handsome. He was tall; his hair, of light brown color, waved in +luxuriant abundance; his cheek was as rosy as if it had been painted to +show behind the footlights; he dressed with artistic elegance. He was +something between a remembrance of Count D'Orsay and an anticipation of +Oscar Wilde. There used to be in the gallery of the Luxembourg a picture +of Hippolytus and Phxdra, in which the beautiful young man, who had +kindled a passion in the heart of his wicked step-mother, always reminded +me of Willis, in spite of the shortcomings of the living face as compared +with the ideal. The painted youth is still blooming on the canvas, but +the fresh-cheecked, jaunty young author of the year 1830 has long faded +out of human sight. I took the leaves which lie before me at this +moment, as I write, from his coffin, as it lay just outside the door of +Saint Paul's Church, on a sad, overclouded winter's day, in the year +1867. At that earlier time, Willis was by far the most prominent young +American author. Cooper, Irving, Bryant, Dana, Halleck, Drake, had all +done their best work. Longfellow was not yet conspicuous. Lowell was a +school-boy. Emerson was unheard of. Whittier was beginning to make his +way against the writers with better educational advantages whom he was +destined to outdo and to outlive. Not one of the great histories, which +have done honor to our literature, had appeared. Our school-books +depended, so far as American authors were concerned, on extracts from the +orations and speeches of Webster and Everett; on Bryant's Thanatopsis, +his lines To a Waterfowl, and the Death of the Flowers, Halleck's Marco +Bozzaris, Red Jacket, and Burns; on Drake's American Flag, and Percival's +Coral Grove, and his Genius Sleeping and Genius Waking,--and not getting +very wide awake, either. These could be depended upon. A few other +copies of verses might be found, but Dwight's "Columbia, Columbia," and +Pierpont's Airs of Palestine, were already effaced, as many of the +favorites of our own day and generation must soon be, by the great wave +which the near future will pour over the sands in which they still are +legible. + +About this time, in the year 1832, came out a small volume entitled +"Truth, a Gift for Scribblers," which made some talk for a while, and is +now chiefly valuable as a kind of literary tombstone on which may be read +the names of many whose renown has been buried with their bones. The +"London Athenaeum" spoke of it as having been described as a "tomahawk +sort of satire." As the author had been a trapper in Missouri, he was +familiarly acquainted with that weapon and the warfare of its owners. +Born in Boston, in 1804, the son of an army officer, educated at West +Point, he came back to his native city about the year 1830. He wrote an +article on Bryant's Poems for the "North American Review," and another on +the famous Indian chief, Black Hawk. In this last-mentioned article he +tells this story as the great warrior told it himself. It was an +incident of a fight with the Osages. + +"Standing by my father's side, I saw him kill his antagonist and tear the +scalp from his head. Fired with valor and ambition, I rushed furiously +upon another, smote him to the earth with my tomahawk, ran my lance +through his body, took off his scalp, and returned in triumph to my +father. He said nothing, but looked pleased." + +This little red story describes very well Spelling's style of literary +warfare. His handling of his most conspicuous victim, Willis, was very +much like Black Hawk's way of dealing with the Osage. He tomahawked him +in heroics, ran him through in prose, and scalped him in barbarous +epigrams. Bryant and Halleck were abundantly praised; hardly any one +else escaped. + +If the reader wishes to see the bubbles of reputation that were floating, +some of them gay with prismatic colors, half a century ago, he will find +in the pages of "Truth" a long catalogue of celebrities he never heard +of. I recognize only three names, of all which are mentioned in the +little book, as belonging to persons still living; but as I have not read +the obituaries of all the others, some of them may be still flourishing +in spite of Mr. Spelling's exterminating onslaught. Time dealt as hardly +with poor Spelling, who was not without talent and instruction, as he had +dealt with our authors. I think he found shelter at last under a roof +which held numerous inmates, some of whom had seen better and many of +whom had known worse days than those which they were passing within its +friendly and not exclusive precincts. Such, at least, was the story I +heard after he disappeared from general observation. + +That was the day of Souvenirs, Tokens, Forget-me-nots, Bijous, and all +that class of showy annuals. Short stories, slender poems, steel +engravings, on a level with the common fashion-plates of advertising +establishments, gilt edges, resplendent binding,--to manifestations of +this sort our lighter literature had very largely run for some years. +The "Scarlet Letter" was an unhinted possibility. The "Voices of the +Night" had not stirred the brooding silence; the Concord seer was still +in the lonely desert; most of the contributors to those yearly volumes, +which took up such pretentious positions on the centre table, have shrunk +into entire oblivion, or, at best, hold their place in literature by a +scrap or two in some omnivorous collection. + +What dreadful work Spelling made among those slight reputations, floating +in swollen tenuity on the surface of the stream, and mirroring each other +in reciprocal reflections! Violent, abusive as he was, unjust to any +against whom he happened to have a prejudice, his castigation of the +small litterateurs of that day was not harmful, but rather of use. His +attack on Willis very probably did him good; he needed a little +discipline, and though he got it too unsparingly, some cautions came with +it which were worth the stripes he had to smart under. One noble writer +Spelling treated with rudeness, probably from some accidental pique, or +equally insignificant reason. I myself, one of the three survivors +before referred to, escaped with a love-pat, as the youngest son of the +Muse. Longfellow gets a brief nod of acknowledgment. Bailey, an +American writer, "who made long since a happy snatch at fame," which must +have been snatched away from him by envious time, for I cannot identify +him; Thatcher, who died early, leaving one poem, The Last Request, not +wholly unremembered; Miss Hannah F. Gould, a very bright and agreeable +writer of light verse,--all these are commended to the keeping of that +venerable public carrier, who finds his scythe and hour-glass such a load +that he generally drops the burdens committed to his charge, after making +a show of paying every possible attention to them so long as he is kept +in sight. + +It was a good time to open a portfolio. But my old one had boyhood +written on every page. A single passionate outcry when the old warship I +had read about in the broadsides that were a part of our kitchen +literature, and in the "Naval Monument," was threatened with demolition; +a few verses suggested by the sight of old Major Melville in his cocked +hat and breeches, were the best scraps that came out of that first +Portfolio, which was soon closed that it should not interfere with the +duties of a profession authorized to claim all the time and thought which +would have been otherwise expended in filling it. + +During a quarter of a century the first Portfolio remained closed for the +greater part of the time. Only now and then it would be taken up and +opened, and something drawn from it for a special occasion, more +particularly for the annual reunions of a certain class of which I was a +member. + +In the year 1857, towards its close, the "Atlantic Monthly," which I had +the honor of naming, was started by the enterprising firm of Phillips & +Sampson, under the editorship of Mr. James Russell Lowell. He thought +that I might bring something out of my old Portfolio which would be not +unacceptable in the new magazine. I looked at the poor old receptacle, +which, partly from use and partly from neglect, had lost its freshness, +and seemed hardly presentable to the new company expected to welcome the +new-comer in the literary world of Boston, the least provincial of +American centres of learning and letters. The gilded covering where the +emblems of hope and aspiration had looked so bright had faded; not +wholly, perhaps, but how was the gold become dim!---how was the most fine +gold changed! Long devotion to other pursuits had left little time for +literature, and the waifs and strays gathered from the old Portfolio had +done little more than keep alive the memory that such a source of supply +was still in existence. I looked at the old Portfolio, and said to +myself, "Too late! too late. This tarnished gold will never brighten, +these battered covers will stand no more wear and tear; close them, and +leave them to the spider and the book-worm." + +In the mean time the nebula of the first quarter of the century had +condensed into the constellation of the middle of the same period. When, +a little while after the establishment of the new magazine, the "Saturday +Club" gathered about the long table at "Parker's," such a representation +of all that was best in American literature had never been collected +within so small a compass. Most of the Americans whom educated +foreigners cared to see-leaving out of consideration official +dignitaries, whose temporary importance makes them objects of +curiosity--were seated at that board. But the club did not yet exist, +and the "Atlantic Monthly" was an experiment. There had already been +several monthly periodicals, more or less successful and permanent, among +which "Putnam's Magazine" was conspicuous, owing its success largely to +the contributions of that very accomplished and delightful writer, Mr. +George William Curtis. That magazine, after a somewhat prolonged and +very honorable existence, had gone where all periodicals go when they +die, into the archives of the deaf, dumb, and blind recording angel whose +name is Oblivion. It had so well deserved to live that its death was a +surprise and a source of regret. Could another monthly take its place +and keep it when that, with all its attractions and excellences, had died +out, and left a blank in our periodical literature which it would be very +hard to fill as well as that had filled it? + +This was the experiment which the enterprising publishers ventured upon, +and I, who felt myself outside of the charmed circle drawn around the +scholars and poets of Cambridge and Concord, having given myself to other +studies and duties, wondered somewhat when Mr. Lowell insisted upon my +becoming a contributor. And so, yielding to a pressure which I could not +understand, and yet found myself unable to resist, I promised to take a +part in the new venture, as an occasional writer in the columns of the +new magazine. + +That was the way in which the second Portfolio found its way to my table, +and was there opened in the autumn of the year 1857. I was already at +least + + 'Nel mezzo del cammin di mia, vita,' + +when I risked myself, with many misgivings, in little-tried paths of what +looked at first like a wilderness, a selva oscura, where, if I did not +meet the lion or the wolf, I should be sure to find the critic, the most +dangerous of the carnivores, waiting to welcome me after his own fashion. + +The second Portfolio is closed and laid away. Perhaps it was hardly +worth while to provide and open a new one; but here it lies before me, +and I hope I may find something between its covers which will justify me +in coming once more before my old friends. But before I open it I want +to claim a little further indulgence. + +There is a subject of profound interest to almost every writer, I might +say to almost every human being. No matter what his culture or +ignorance, no matter what his pursuit, no matter what his character, the +subject I refer to is one of which he rarely ceases to think, and, if +opportunity is offered, to talk. On this he is eloquent, if on nothing +else. The slow of speech becomes fluent; the torpid listener becomes +electric with vivacity, and alive all over with interest. + +The sagacious reader knows well what is coming after this prelude. He is +accustomed to the phrases with which the plausible visitor, who has a +subscription book in his pocket, prepares his victim for the depressing +disclosure of his real errand. He is not unacquainted with the +conversational amenities of the cordial and interesting stranger, who, +having had the misfortune of leaving his carpet-bag in the cars, or of +having his pocket picked at the station, finds himself without the means +of reaching that distant home where affluence waits for him with its +luxurious welcome, but to whom for the moment the loan of some five and +twenty dollars would be a convenience and a favor for which his heart +would ache with gratitude during the brief interval between the loan and +its repayment. + +I wish to say a few words in my own person relating to some passages in +my own history, and more especially to some of the recent experiences +through which I have been passing. + +What can justify one in addressing himself to the general public as if it +were his private correspondent? There are at least three sufficient +reasons: first, if he has a story to tell that everybody wants to +hear,--if he has been shipwrecked, or has been in a battle, or has +witnessed any interesting event, and can tell anything new about it; +secondly, if he can put in fitting words any common experiences not +already well told, so that readers will say, "Why, yes! I have had that +sensation, thought, emotion, a hundred times, but I never heard it spoken +of before, and I never saw any mention of it in print;" and thirdly, +anything one likes, provided he can so tell it as to make it interesting. + +I have no story to tell in this Introduction which can of itself claim +any general attention. My first pages relate the effect of a certain +literary experience upon myself,--a series of partial metempsychoses of +which I have been the subject. Next follows a brief tribute to the +memory of a very dear and renowned friend from whom I have recently been +parted. The rest of the Introduction will be consecrated to the memory +of my birthplace. + +I have just finished a Memoir, which will appear soon after this page is +written, and will have been the subject of criticism long before it is in +the reader's hands. The experience of thinking another man's thoughts +continuously for a long time; of living one's self into another man's +life for a month, or a year, or more, is a very curious one. No matter +how much superior to the biographer his subject may be, the man who +writes the life feels himself, in a certain sense, on the level of the +person whose life he is writing. One cannot fight over the battles of +Marengo or Austerlitz with Napoleon without feeling as if he himself had +a fractional claim to the victory, so real seems the transfer of his +personality into that of the conqueror while he reads. Still more must +this identification of "subject" and "object" take place when one is +writing of a person whose studies or occupations are not unlike his own. + +Here are some of my metempsychoses: Ten years ago I wrote what I called A +Memorial Outline of a remarkable student of nature. He was a born +observer, and such are far from common. He was also a man of great +enthusiasm and unwearying industry. His quick eye detected what others +passed by without notice: the Indian relic, where another would see only +pebbles and fragments; the rare mollusk, or reptile, which his companion +would poke with his cane, never suspecting that there was a prize at the +end of it. Getting his single facts together with marvellous sagacity +and long-breathed patience, he arranged them, classified them, described +them, studied them in their relations, and before those around him were +aware of it the collector was an accomplished naturalist. When--he died +his collections remained, and they still remain, as his record in the +hieratic language of science. In writing this memoir the spirit of his +quiet pursuits, the even temper they bred in him, gained possession of my +own mind, so that I seemed to look at nature through his gold-bowed +spectacles, and to move about his beautifully ordered museum as if I had +myself prepared and arranged its specimens. I felt wise with his wisdom, +fair-minded with his calm impartiality; it seemed as if for the time his +placid, observant, inquiring, keen-sighted nature "slid into my soul," +and if I had looked at myself in the glass I should almost have expected +to see the image of the Hersey professor whose life and character I was +sketching. + +A few years hater I lived over the life of another friend in writing a +Memoir of which he was the subject. I saw him, the beautiful, +bright-eyed boy, with dark, waving hair; the youthful scholar, first at +Harvard, then at Gottingen and Berlin, the friend and companion of +Bismarck; the young author, making a dash for renown as a novelist, and +showing the elements which made his failures the promise of success in a +larger field of literary labor; the delving historian, burying his fresh +young manhood in the dusty alcoves of silent libraries, to come forth in +the face of Europe and America as one of the leading historians of the +time; the diplomatist, accomplished, of captivating presence and manners, +an ardent American, and in the time of trial an impassioned and eloquent +advocate of the cause of freedom; reaching at last the summit of his +ambition as minister at the Court of Saint James. All this I seemed to +share with him as I tracked his career from his birthplace in Dorchester, +and the house in Walnut Street where he passed his boyhood, to the +palaces of Vienna and London. And then the cruel blow which struck him +from the place he adorned; the great sorrow that darkened his later +years; the invasion of illness, a threat that warned of danger, and after +a period of invalidism, during a part of which I shared his most intimate +daily life, the sudden, hardly unwelcome, final summons. Did not my own +consciousness migrate, or seem, at least, to transfer itself into this +brilliant life history, as I traced its glowing record? I, too, seemed +to feel the delight of carrying with me, as if they were my own, the +charms of a presence which made its own welcome everywhere. I shared his +heroic toils, I partook of his literary and social triumphs, I was +honored by the marks of distinction which gathered about him, I was +wronged by the indignity from which he suffered, mourned with him in his +sorrow, and thus, after I had been living for months with his memory, I +felt as if I should carry a part of his being with me so long as my +self-consciousness might remain imprisoned in the ponderable elements. + +The years passed away, and the influences derived from the companionships +I have spoken of had blended intimately with my own current of being. +Then there came to me a new experience in my relations with an eminent +member of the medical profession, whom I met habitually for a long +period, and to whose memory I consecrated a few pages as a prelude to a +work of his own, written under very peculiar circumstances. He was the +subject of a slow, torturing, malignant, and almost necessarily fatal +disease. Knowing well that the mind would feed upon itself if it were +not supplied with food from without, he determined to write a treatise on +a subject which had greatly interested him, and which would oblige him to +bestow much of his time and thought upon it, if indeed he could hold out +to finish the work. During the period while he was engaged in writing +it, his wife, who had seemed in perfect health, died suddenly of +pneumonia. Physical suffering, mental distress, the prospect of death at +a near, if uncertain, time always before him, it was hard to conceive a +more terrible strain than that which he had to endure. When, in the hour +of his greatest need, his faithful companion, the wife of many years of +happy union, whose hand had smoothed his pillow, whose voice had consoled +and cheered him, was torn from him after a few days of illness, I felt +that my, friend's trial was such that the cry of the man of many +afflictions and temptations might well have escaped from his lips: "I was +at ease, but he hath broken me asunder; he hath also taken me by my neck +and shaken me to pieces, and set me up for his mark. His archers compass +me round about, he cleaveth my reins asunder, and doth not spare; he +poureth out my gall upon the ground." + +I had dreaded meeting him for the first time after this crushing blow. +What a lesson he gave me of patience under sufferings which the fearful +description of the Eastern poet does not picture too vividly! We have +been taught to admire the calm philosophy of Haller, watching his +faltering pulse as he lay dying; we have heard the words of pious +resignation said to have been uttered with his last breath by Addison: +but here was a trial, not of hours, or days, or weeks, but of months, +even years, of cruel pain, and in the midst of its thick darkness the +light of love, which had burned steadily at his bedside, was suddenly +extinguished. + +There were times in which the thought would force itself upon my +consciousness, How long is the universe to look upon this dreadful +experiment of a malarious planet, with its unmeasurable freight of +suffering, its poisonous atmosphere, so sweet to breathe, so sure to kill +in a few scores of years at farthest, and its heart-breaking woes which +make even that brief space of time an eternity? There can be but one +answer that will meet this terrible question, which must arise in every +thinking nature that would fain "justify the ways of God to men." So +must it be until that + + "one far-off divine event + To which the whole creation moves" + +has become a reality, and the anthem in which there is no discordant note +shall be joined by a voice from every life made "perfect through +sufferings." + +Such was the lesson into which I lived in those sad yet placid years of +companionship with my suffering and sorrowing friend, in retracing which +I seemed to find another existence mingled with my own. + +And now for many months I have been living in daily relations of intimacy +with one who seems nearer to me since he has left us than while he was +here in living form and feature. I did not know how difficult a task I +had undertaken in venturing upon a memoir of a man whom all, or almost +all, agree upon as one of the great lights of the New World, and whom +very many regard as an unpredicted Messiah. Never before was I so +forcibly reminded of Carlyle's description of the work of a newspaper +editor,--that threshing of straw already thrice beaten by the flails of +other laborers in the same field. What could be said that had not been +said of "transcendentalism" and of him who was regarded as its prophet; +of the poet whom some admired without understanding, a few understood, or +thought they did, without admiring, and many both understood and +admired,--among these there being not a small number who went far beyond +admiration, and lost themselves in devout worship? While one exalted him +as "the greatest man that ever lived," another, a friend, famous in the +world of letters, wrote expressly to caution me against the danger of +overrating a writer whom he is content to recognize as an American +Montaigne, and nothing more. + +After finishing this Memoir, which has but just left my hands, I would +gladly have let my brain rest for a while. The wide range of thought +which belonged to the subject of the Memoir, the occasional mysticism and +the frequent tendency toward it, the sweep of imagination and the sparkle +of wit which kept his reader's mind on the stretch, the union of +prevailing good sense with exceptional extravagances, the modest audacity +of a nature that showed itself in its naked truthfulness and was not +ashamed, the feeling that I was in the company of a sibylline +intelligence which was discounting the promises of the remote future long +before they were due,--all this made the task a grave one. But when I +found myself amidst the vortices of uncounted, various, bewildering +judgments, Catholic and Protestant, orthodox and liberal, scholarly from +under the tree of knowledge and instinctive from over the potato-hill; +the passionate enthusiasm of young adorers and the cool, if not cynical, +estimate of hardened critics, all intersecting each other as they +whirled, each around its own centre, I felt that it was indeed very +difficult to keep the faculties clear and the judgment unbiassed. + +It is a great privilege to have lived so long in the society of such a +man. "He nothing common" said, "or mean." He was always the same pure +and high-souled companion. After being with him virtue seemed as natural +to man as its opposite did according to the old theologies. But how to +let one's self down from the high level of such a character to one's own +poor standard? I trust that the influence of this long intellectual and +spiritual companionship never absolutely leaves one who has lived in it. +It may come to him in the form of self-reproach that he falls so far +short of the superior being who has been so long the object of his +contemplation. But it also carries him at times into the other's +personality, so that he finds himself thinking thoughts that are not his +own, using phrases which he has unconsciously borrowed, writing, it may +be, as nearly like his long-studied original as Julio Romano's painting +was like Raphael's; and all this with the unquestioning conviction that +he is talking from his own consciousness in his own natural way. So far +as tones and expressions and habits which belonged to the idiosyncrasy of +the original are borrowed by the student of his life, it is a misfortune +for the borrower. But to share the inmost consciousness of a noble +thinker, to scan one's self in the white light of a pure and radiant +soul,--this is indeed the highest form of teaching and discipline. + +I have written these few memoirs, and I am grateful for all that they +have taught me. But let me write no more. There are but two biographers +who can tell the story of a man's or a woman's life. One is the person +himself or herself; the other is the Recording Angel. The autobiographer +cannot be trusted to tell the whole truth, though he may tell nothing but +the truth, and the Recording Angel never lets his book go out of his own +hands. As for myself, I would say to my friends, in the Oriental phrase, +"Live forever!" Yes, live forever, and I, at least, shall not have to +wrong your memories by my imperfect record and unsatisfying commentary. + +In connection with these biographies, or memoirs, more properly, in which +I have written of my departed friends, I hope my readers will indulge me +in another personal reminiscence. I have just lost my dear and honored +contemporary of the last century. A hundred years ago this day, December +13, 1784, died the admirable and ever to be remembered Dr. Samuel +Johnson. The year 1709 was made ponderous and illustrious in English +biography by his birth. My own humble advent to the world of protoplasm +was in the year 1809 of the present century. Summer was just ending when +those four letters, "son b." were written under the date of my birth, +August 29th. Autumn had just begun when my great pre-contemporary +entered this un-Christian universe and was made a member of the Christian +church on the same day, for he was born and baptized on the 18th of +September. + +Thus there was established a close bond of relationship between the great +English scholar and writer and myself. Year by year, and almost month by +month, my life has kept pace in this century with his life in the last +century. I had only to open my Boswell at any time, and I knew just what +Johnson at my age, twenty or fifty or seventy, was thinking and doing; +what were his feelings about life; what changes the years had wrought in +his body, his mind, his feelings, his companionships, his reputation. It +was for me a kind of unison between two instruments, both playing that +old familiar air, "Life,"--one a bassoon, if you will, and the other an +oaten pipe, if you care to find an image for it, but still keeping pace +with each other until the players both grew old and gray. At last the +thinner thread of sound is heard by itself, and its deep accompaniment +rolls out its thunder no more. + +I feel lonely now that my great companion and friend of so many years has +left me. I felt more intimately acquainted with him than I do with many +of my living friends. I can hardly remember when I did not know him. I +can see him in his bushy wig, exactly like that of the Reverend Dr. +Samuel Cooper (who died in December, 1783) as Copley painted him,--he +hangs there on my wall, over the revolving bookcase. His ample coat, too, +I see, with its broad flaps and many buttons and generous cuffs, and +beneath it the long, still more copiously buttoned waistcoat, arching in +front of the fine crescentic, almost semi-lunar Falstaffian prominence, +involving no less than a dozen of the above-mentioned buttons, and the +strong legs with their sturdy calves, fitting columns of support to the +massive body and solid, capacious brain enthroned over it. I can hear +him with his heavy tread as he comes in to the Club, and a gap is widened +to make room for his portly figure. "A fine day," says Sir Joshua. +"Sir," he answers, "it seems propitious, but the atmosphere is humid and +the skies are nebulous," at which the great painter smiles, shifts his +trumpet, and takes a pinch of snuff. + +Dear old massive, deep-voiced dogmatist and hypochondriac of the +eighteenth century, how one would like to sit at some ghastly Club, +between you and the bony, "mighty-mouthed," harsh-toned termagant and +dyspeptic of the nineteenth! The growl of the English mastiff and the +snarl of the Scotch terrier would make a duet which would enliven the +shores of Lethe. I wish I could find our "spiritualist's" paper in the +Portfolio, in which the two are brought together, but I hardly know what +I shall find when it is opened. + +Yes, my life is a little less precious to me since I have lost that dear +old friend; and when the funeral train moves to Westminster Abbey next +Saturday, for I feel as if this were 1784, and not 1884,--I seem to find +myself following the hearse, one of the silent mourners. + +Among the events which have rendered the past year memorable to me has +been the demolition of that venerable and interesting old dwelling-house, +precious for its intimate association with the earliest stages of the war +of the Revolution, and sacred to me as my birthplace and the home of my +boyhood. + +The "Old Gambrel-roofed House" exists no longer. I remember saying +something, in one of a series of papers published long ago, about the +experience of dying out of a house,--of leaving it forever, as the soul +dies out of the body. We may die out of many houses, but the house +itself can die but once; and so real is the life of a house to one who +has dwelt in it, more especially the life of the house which held him in +dreamy infancy, in restless boyhood, in passionate youth,--so real, I +say, is its life, that it seems as if something like a soul of it must +outlast its perishing frame. + +The slaughter of the Old Gambrel-roofed House was, I am ready to admit, a +case of justifiable domicide. Not the less was it to be deplored by all +who love the memories of the past. With its destruction are obliterated +some of the footprints of the heroes and martyrs who took the first steps +in the long and bloody march which led us through the wilderness to the +promised land of independent nationality. Personally, I have a right to +mourn for it as a part of my life gone from me. My private grief for its +loss would be a matter for my solitary digestion, were it not that the +experience through which I have just passed is one so familiar to my +fellow-countrymen that, in telling my own reflections and feelings, I am +repeating those of great numbers of men and women who have had the +misfortune to outlive their birthplace. + +It is a great blessing to be born surrounded by a natural horizon. The +Old Gambrel-roofed House could not boast an unbroken ring of natural +objects encircling it. Northerly it looked upon its own outbuildings and +some unpretending two-story houses which had been its neighbors for a +century and more. To the south of it the square brick dormitories and +the bellfried hall of the university helped to shut out the distant view. +But the west windows gave a broad outlook across the common, beyond which +the historical "Washington elm" and two companions in line with it, +spread their leaves in summer and their networks in winter. And far away +rose the hills that bounded the view, with the glimmer here and there of +the white walls or the illuminated casements of some embowered, +half-hidden villa. Eastwardly also, the prospect was, in my earlier +remembrance, widely open, and I have frequently seen the sunlit sails +gliding along as if through the level fields, for no water was visible. +So there were broad expanses on two sides at least, for my imagination to +wander over. + +I cannot help thinking that we carry our childhood's horizon with us all +our days. Among these western wooded hills my day-dreams built their +fairy palaces, and even now, as I look at them from my library window, +across the estuary of the Charles, I find myself in the familiar home of +my early visions. The "clouds of glory" which we trail with us in after +life need not be traced to a pre-natal state. There is enough to account +for them in that unconsciously remembered period of existence before we +have learned the hard limitations of real life. Those earliest months in +which we lived in sensations without words, and ideas not fettered in +sentences, have all the freshness of proofs of an engraving "before the +letter." I am very thankful that the first part of my life was not +passed shut in between high walls and treading the unimpressible and +unsympathetic pavement. + +Our university town was very much like the real country, in those days of +which I am thinking. There were plenty of huckleberries and blueberries +within half a mile of the house. Blackberries ripened in the fields, +acorns and shagbarks dropped from the trees, squirrels ran among the +branches, and not rarely the hen-hawk might be seen circling over the +barnyard. Still another rural element was not wanting, in the form of +that far-diffused, infragrant effluvium, which, diluted by a good half +mile of pure atmosphere, is no longer odious, nay is positively +agreeable, to many who have long known it, though its source and centre +has an unenviable reputation. I need not name the animal whose Parthian +warfare terrifies and puts to flight the mightiest hunter that ever +roused the tiger from his jungle or faced the lion of the desert. +Strange as it may seem, an aerial hint of his personality in the far +distance always awakens in my mind pleasant remembrances and tender +reflections. A whole neighborhood rises up before me: the barn, with its +haymow, where the hens laid their eggs to hatch, and we boys hid our +apples to ripen, both occasionally illustrating the sic vos non vobis; +the shed, where the annual Tragedy of the Pig was acted with a realism +that made Salvini's Othello seem but a pale counterfeit; the rickety old +outhouse, with the "corn-chamber" which the mice knew so well; the paved +yard, with its open gutter,--these and how much else come up at the hint +of my far-off friend, who is my very near enemy. Nothing is more +familiar than the power of smell in reviving old memories. There was that +quite different fragrance of the wood-house, the smell of fresh sawdust. +It comes back to me now, and with it the hiss of the saw; the tumble of +the divorced logs which God put together and man has just put asunder; +the coming down of the axe and the hah! that helped it,--the +straight-grained stick opening at the first appeal of the implement as if +it were a pleasure, and the stick with a knot in the middle of it that +mocked the blows and the hahs! until the beetle and wedge made it listen +to reason,--there are just such straight-grained and just such knotty men +and women. All this passes through my mind while Biddy, whose +parlor-name is Angela, contents herself with exclaiming "egh!*******!" + +How different distances were in those young days of which I am thinking! +From the old house to the old yellow meeting-house, where the head of the +family preached and the limbs of the family listened, was not much more +than two or three times the width of Commonwealth Avenue. But of a hot +summer's afternoon, after having already heard one sermon, which could +not in the nature of things have the charm of novelty of presentation to +the members of the home circle, and the theology of which was not too +clear to tender apprehensions; with three hymns more or less lugubrious, +rendered by a village-choir, got into voice by many preliminary snuffles +and other expiratory efforts, and accompanied by the snort of a huge +bassviol which wallowed through the tune like a hippopotamus, with other +exercises of the customary character,--after all this in the forenoon, +the afternoon walk to the meeting-house in the hot sun counted for as +much, in my childish dead-reckoning, as from old Israel Porter's in +Cambridge to the Exchange Coffeehouse in Boston did in after years. It +takes a good while to measure the radius of the circle that is about us, +for the moon seems at first as near as the watchface. Who knows but +that, after a certain number of ages, the planet we live on may seem to +us no bigger than our neighbor Venus appeared when she passed before the +sun a few months ago, looking as if we could take her between our thumb +and finger, like a bullet or a marble? And time, too; how long was it +from the serious sunrise to the joyous "sun-down" of an old-fashioned, +puritanical, judaical first day of the week, which a pious fraud +christened "the Sabbath"? Was it a fortnight, as we now reckon duration, +or only a week? Curious entities, or non-entities, space and tithe? +When you see a metaphysician trying to wash his hands of them and get rid +of these accidents, so as to lay his dry, clean palm on the absolute, +does it not remind you of the hopeless task of changing the color of the +blackamoor by a similar proceeding? For space is the fluid in which he +is washing, and time is the soap which he is using up in the process, and +he cannot get free from them until he can wash himself in a mental +vacuum. + +In my reference to the old house in a former paper, published years ago, +I said, + +"By and by the stony foot of the great University will plant itself on +this whole territory, and the private recollections which clung so +tenaciously to the place and its habitations will have died with those +who cherished them." + +What strides the great University has taken since those words were +written! During all my early years our old Harvard Alma Mater sat still +and lifeless as the colossi in the Egyptian desert. Then all at once, +like the statue in Don Giovanni, she moved from her pedestal. The fall +of that "stony foot" has effected a miracle like the harp that Orpheus +played, like the teeth which Cadmus sowed. The plain where the moose and +the bear were wandering while Shakespeare was writing Hamlet, where a few +plain dormitories and other needed buildings were scattered about in my +school-boy days, groans under the weight of the massive edifices which +have sprung up all around them, crowned by the tower of that noble +structure which stands in full view before me as I lift my eyes from the +portfolio on the back of which I am now writing. + +For I must be permitted to remind you that I have not yet opened it. I +have told you that I have just finished a long memoir, and that it has +cost me no little labor to overcome some of its difficulties,--if I have +overcome them, which others must decide. And I feel exactly as honest +Dobbin feels when his harness is slipped off after a long journey with a +good deal of up-hill work. He wants to rest a little, then to feed a +little; then, if you will turn him loose in the pasture, he wants to +roll. I have left my starry and ethereal companionship,--not for a long +time, I hope, for it has lifted me above my common self, but for a while. +And now I want, so to speak, to roll in the grass and among the +dandelions with the other pachyderms. So I have kept to the outside of +the portfolio as yet, and am disporting myself in reminiscences, and +fancies, and vagaries, and parentheses. + +How well I understand the feeling which led the Pisans to load their +vessels with earth from the Holy Land, and fill the area of the Campo +Santo with that sacred soil! The old house stood upon about as perverse +a little patch of the planet as ever harbored a half-starved earth-worm. +It was as sandy as Sahara and as thirsty as Tantalus. The rustic +aid-de-camps of the household used to aver that all fertilizing matters +"leached" through it. I tried to disprove their assertion by gorging it +with the best of terrestrial nourishment, until I became convinced that I +was feeding the tea-plants of China, and then I gave over the attempt. +And yet I did love, and do love, that arid patch of ground. I wonder if +a single flower could not be made to grow in a pot of earth from that +Campo Santo of my childhood! One noble product of nature did not refuse +to flourish there,--the tall, stately, beautiful, soft-haired, +many-jointed, generous maize or Indian corn, which thrives on sand and +defies the blaze of our shrivelling summer. What child but loves to +wander in its forest-like depths, amidst the rustling leaves and with the +lofty tassels tossing their heads high above him! There are two aspects +of the cornfield which always impress my imagination: the first when it +has reached its full growth, and its ordered ranks look like an army on +the march with its plumed and bannered battalions; the second when, after +the battle of the harvest, the girdled stacks stand on the field of +slaughter like so many ragged Niobes,--say rather like the crazy widows +and daughters of the dead soldiery. + +Once more let us come back to the old house. It was far along in its +second century when the edict went forth that it must stand no longer. + +The natural death of a house is very much like that of one of its human +tenants. The roof is the first part to show the distinct signs of age. +Slates and tiles loosen and at last slide off, and leave bald the boards +that supported them; shingles darken and decay, and soon the garret or +the attic lets in the rain and the snow; by and by the beams sag, the +floors warp, the walls crack, the paper peels away, the ceilings scale +off and fall, the windows are crusted with clinging dust, the doors drop +from their rusted hinges, the winds come in without knocking and howl +their cruel death-songs through the empty rooms and passages, and at last +there comes a crash, a great cloud of dust rises, and the home that had +been the shelter of generation after generation finds its grave in its +own cellar. Only the chimney remains as its monument. Slowly, little by +little, the patient solvents that find nothing too hard for their +chemistry pick out the mortar from between the bricks; at last a mighty +wind roars around it and rushes against it, and the monumental relic +crashes down among the wrecks it has long survived. So dies a human +habitation left to natural decay, all that was seen above the surface of +the soil sinking gradually below it, + + Till naught remains the saddening tale to tell + Save home's last wrecks, the cellar and the well. + +But if this sight is saddening, what is it to see a human dwelling fall +by the hand of violence! The ripping off of the shelter that has kept +out a thousand storms, the tearing off of the once ornamental woodwork, +the wrench of the inexorable crowbar, the murderous blows of the axe, the +progressive ruin, which ends by rending all the joints asunder and +flinging the tenoned and mortised timbers into heaps that will be sawed +and split to warm some new habitation as firewood,--what a brutal act of +destruction it seems! + +Why should I go over the old house again, having already described it +more than ten years ago? Alas! how many remember anything they read but +once, and so long ago as that? How many would find it out if one should +say over in the same words that which he said in the last decade? But +there is really no need of telling the story a second time, for it can be +found by those who are curious enough to look it up in a volume of which +it occupies the opening chapter. + +In order, however, to save any inquisitive reader that trouble, let me +remind him that the old house was General Ward's headquarters at the +breaking out of the Revolution; that the plan for fortifying Bunker's +Hill was laid, as commonly believed, in the southeast lower room, the +floor of which was covered with dents, made, it was alleged, by the butts +of the soldiers' muskets. In that house, too, General Warren probably +passed the night before the Bunker Hill battle, and over its threshold +must the stately figure of Washington have often cast its shadow. + +But the house in which one drew his first breath, and where he one day +came into the consciousness that he was a personality, an ego, a little +universe with a sky over him all his own, with a persistent identity, +with the terrible responsibility of a separate, independent, inalienable +existence,--that house does not ask for any historical associations to +make it the centre of the earth for him. + +If there is any person in the world to be envied, it is the one who is +born to an ancient estate, with a long line of family traditions and the +means in his hands of shaping his mansion and his domain to his own +taste, without losing sight of all the characteristic features which +surrounded his earliest years. The American is, for the most part, a +nomad, who pulls down his house as the Tartar pulls up his tent-poles. +If I had an ideal life to plan for him it would be something like this: + +His grandfather should be a wise, scholarly, large-brained, large-hearted +country minister, from whom he should inherit the temperament that +predisposes to cheerfulness and enjoyment, with the finer instincts which +direct life to noble aims and make it rich with the gratification of pure +and elevated tastes and the carrying out of plans for the good of his +neighbors and his fellow-creatures. He should, if possible, have been +born, at any rate have passed some of his early years, or a large part of +them, under the roof of the good old minister. His father should be, we +will say, a business man in one of our great cities,--a generous +manipulator of millions, some of which have adhered to his private +fortunes, in spite of his liberal use of his means. His heir, our +ideally placed American, shall take possession of the old house, the home +of his earliest memories, and preserve it sacredly, not exactly like the +Santa Casa, but, as nearly as may be, just as he remembers it. He can +add as many acres as he will to the narrow house-lot. He can build a +grand mansion for himself, if he chooses, in the not distant +neighborhood. But the old house, and all immediately round it, shall be +as he recollects it when he had to stretch his little arm up to reach the +door-handles. Then, having well provided for his own household, himself +included, let him become the providence of the village or the town where +he finds himself during at least a portion of every year. Its schools, +its library, its poor,--and perhaps the new clergyman who has succeeded +his grandfather's successor may be one of them,--all its interests, he +shall make his own. And from this centre his beneficence shall radiate +so far that all who hear of his wealth shall also hear of him as a friend +to his race. + +Is not this a pleasing programme? Wealth is a steep hill, which the +father climbs slowly and the son often tumbles down precipitately; but +there is a table-land on a level with it, which may be found by those who +do not lose their head in looking down from its sharply cloven +summit.---Our dangerously rich men can make themselves hated, held as +enemies of the race, or beloved and recognized as its benefactors. The +clouds of discontent are threatening, but if the gold-pointed +lightning-rods are rightly distributed the destructive element may be +drawn off silently and harmlessly. For it cannot be repeated too often +that the safety of great wealth with us lies in obedience to the new +version of the Old World axiom, RICHESS oblige. + + + + +THE NEW PORTFOLIO: FIRST OPENING. + + + + +A MORTAL ANTIPATHY. +I +GETTING READY. + +It is impossible to begin a story which must of necessity tax the powers +of belief of readers unacquainted with the class of facts to which its +central point of interest belongs without some words in the nature of +preparation. Readers of Charles Lamb remember that Sarah Battle insisted +on a clean-swept hearth before sitting down to her favorite game of +whist. + +The narrator wishes to sweep the hearth, as it were, in these opening +pages, before sitting down to tell his story. He does not intend to +frighten the reader away by prolix explanation, but he does mean to warn +him against hasty judgments when facts are related which are not within +the range of every-day experience. Did he ever see the Siamese twins, or +any pair like them? Probably not, yet he feels sure that Chang and Eng +really existed; and if he has taken the trouble to inquire, he has +satisfied himself that similar cases have been recorded by credible +witnesses, though at long intervals and in countries far apart from each +other. + +This is the first sweep of the brush, to clear the hearth of the +skepticism and incredulity which must be got out of the way before we can +begin to tell and to listen in peace with ourselves and each other. + +One more stroke of the brush is needed before the stage will be ready for +the chief characters and the leading circumstances to which the reader's +attention is invited. If the principal personages made their entrance at +once, the reader would have to create for himself the whole scenery of +their surrounding conditions. In point of fact, no matter how a story is +begun, many of its readers have already shaped its chief actors out of +any hint the author may have dropped, and provided from their own +resources a locality and a set of outward conditions to environ these +imagined personalities. These are all to be brushed away, and the actual +surroundings of the subject of the narrative represented as they were, at +the risk of detaining the reader a little while from the events most +likely to interest him. The choicest egg that ever was laid was not so +big as the nest that held it. If a story were so interesting that a +maiden would rather hear it than listen to the praise of her own beauty, +or a poet would rather read it than recite his own verses, still it would +have to be wrapped in some tissue of circumstance, or it would lose half +its effectiveness. + +It may not be easy to find the exact locality referred to in this +narrative by looking into the first gazetteer that is at hand. Recent +experiences have shown that it is unsafe to be too exact in designating +places and the people who live in them. There are, it may be added, so +many advertisements disguised under the form of stories and other +literary productions that one naturally desires to avoid the suspicion of +being employed by the enterprising proprietors of this or that celebrated +resort to use his gifts for their especial benefit. There are no doubt +many persons who remember the old sign and the old tavern and its four +chief personages presently to be mentioned. It is to be hoped that they +will not furnish the public with a key to this narrative, and perhaps +bring trouble to the writer of it, as has happened to other authors. If +the real names are a little altered, it need not interfere with the +important facts relating to those who bear them. It might not be safe to +tell a damaging story about John or James Smythe; but if the slight +change is made of spelling the name Smith, the Smythes would never think +of bringing an action, as if the allusion related to any of them. The +same gulf of family distinction separates the Thompsons with a p from the +Thomsons without that letter. + +There are few pleasanter places in the Northern States for a summer +residence than that known from the first period of its settlement by the +name of Arrowhead Village. The Indians had found it out, as the relics +they left behind them abundantly testified. The commonest of these were +those chipped stones which are the medals of barbarism, and from Which +the place took its name,--the heads of arrows, of various sizes, +material, and patterns: some small enough for killing fish and little +birds, some large enough for such game as the moose and the bear, to say +nothing of the hostile Indian and the white settler; some of flint, now +and then one of white quartz, and others of variously colored jasper. +The Indians must have lived here for many generations, and it must have +been a kind of factory village of the stone age,--which lasted up to near +the present time, if we may judge from the fact that many of these relics +are met with close to the surface of the ground. + +No wonder they found this a pleasant residence, for it is to-day one of +the most attractive of all summer resorts; so inviting, indeed, that +those who know it do not like to say too much about it, lest the swarms +of tourists should make it unendurable to those who love it for itself, +and not as a centre of fashionable display and extramural cockneyism. + +There is the lake, in the first place,--Cedar Lake,--about five miles +long, and from half a mile to a mile and a half wide, stretching from +north to south. Near the northern extremity are the buildings of +Stoughton University, a flourishing young college with an ambitious name, +but well equipped and promising, the grounds of which reach the water. +At the southern end of the lake are the edifices of the Corinna +Institute, a favorite school for young ladies, where large numbers of the +daughters of America are fitted, so far as education can do it, for all +stations in life, from camping out with a husband at the mines in Nevada +to acting the part of chief lady of the land in the White House at +Washington. + +Midway between the two extremities, on the eastern shore of the lake, is +a valley between two hills, which come down to the very edge of the lake, +leaving only room enough for a road between their base and the water. +This valley, half a mile in width, has been long settled, and here for a +century or more has stood the old Anchor Tavern. A famous place it was +so long as its sign swung at the side of the road: famous for its +landlord, portly, paternal, whose welcome to a guest that looked worthy +of the attention was like that of a parent to a returning prodigal, and +whose parting words were almost as good as a marriage benediction; famous +for its landlady, ample in person, motherly, seeing to the whole +household with her own eyes, mistress of all culinary secrets that +Northern kitchens are most proud of; famous also for its ancient servant, +as city people would call her,--help, as she was called in the tavern +and would have called herself,--the unchanging, seemingly immortal +Miranda, who cared for the guests as if she were their nursing mother, +and pressed the specially favorite delicacies on their attention as a +connoisseur calls the wandering eyes of an amateur to the beauties of a +picture. Who that has ever been at the old Anchor Tavern forgets +Miranda's + + "A little of this fricassee?-it is ver-y nice;" + +or + + "Some of these cakes? You will find them ver-y good." + +Nor would it be just to memory to forget that other notable and noted +member of the household,--the unsleeping, unresting, omnipresent Pushee, +ready for everybody and everything, everywhere within the limits of the +establishment at all hours of the day and night. He fed, nobody could +say accurately when or where. There were rumors of a "bunk," in which he +lay down with his clothes on, but he seemed to be always wide awake, and +at the service of as many guest, at once as if there had been half a +dozen of him. + +So much for old reminiscences. + +The landlord of the Anchor Tavern had taken down his sign. He had had +the house thoroughly renovated and furnished it anew, and kept it open in +summer for a few boarders. It happened more than once that the summer +boarders were so much pleased with the place that they stayed on through +the autumn, and some of them through the winter. The attractions of the +village were really remarkable. Boating in summer, and skating in +winter; ice-boats, too, which the wild ducks could hardly keep up with; +fishing, for which the lake was renowned; varied and beautiful walks +through the valley and up the hillsides; houses sheltered from the north +and northeasterly winds, and refreshed in the hot summer days by the +breeze which came over the water,--all this made the frame for a pleasing +picture of rest and happiness. But there was a great deal more than +this. There was a fine library in the little village, presented and +richly endowed by a wealthy native of the place. There was a small +permanent population of a superior character to that of an everyday +country town; there was a pretty little Episcopal church, with a +good-hearted rector, broad enough for the Bishop of the diocese to be a +little afraid of, and hospitable to all outsiders, of whom, in the summer +season, there were always some who wanted a place of worship to keep +their religion from dying out during the heathen months, while the +shepherds of the flocks to which they belonged were away from their empty +folds. + +What most helped to keep the place alive all through the year was the +frequent coming together of the members of a certain literary +association. Some time before the tavern took down its sign the landlord +had built a hall, where many a ball had been held, to which the young +folks of all the country round had resorted. It was still sometimes used +for similar occasions, but it was especially notable as being the place +of meeting of the famous PANSOPHIAN SOCIETY. + +This association, the name of which might be invidiously interpreted as +signifying that its members knew everything, had no such pretensions, +but, as its Constitution said very plainly and modestly, held itself open +to accept knowledge on any and all subjects from such as had knowledge to +impart. Its President was the rector of the little chapel, a man who, in +spite of the Thirty-Nine Articles, could stand fire from the +widest-mouthed heretical blunderbuss without flinching or losing his +temper. The hall of the old Anchor Tavern was a convenient place of +meeting for the students and instructors of the University and the +Institute. Sometimes in boat-loads, sometimes in carriage-loads, +sometimes in processions of skaters, they came to the meetings in +Pansophian Hall, as it was now commonly called. + +These meetings had grown to be occasions of great interest. It was +customary to have papers written by members of the Society, for the most +part, but now and then by friends of the members, sometimes by the +students of the College or the Institute, and in rarer instances by +anonymous personages, whose papers, having been looked over and discussed +by the Committee appointed for that purpose, were thought worth listening +to. The variety of topics considered was very great. The young ladies of +the village and the Institute had their favorite subjects, the young +gentlemen a different set of topics, and the occasional outside +contributors their own; so that one who happened to be admitted to a +meeting never knew whether he was going to hear an account of recent +arctic discoveries, or an essay on the freedom of the will, or a +psychological experience, or a story, or even a poem. + +Of late there had been a tendency to discuss the questions relating to +the true status and the legitimate social functions of woman. The most +conflicting views were held on the subject. Many of the young ladies and +some of the University students were strong in defence of all the +"woman's rights" doctrines. Some of these young people were extreme in +their views. They had read about Semiramis and Boadicea and Queen +Elizabeth, until they were ready, if they could get the chance, to vote +for a woman as President of the United States or as General of the United +States Army. They were even disposed to assert the physical equality of +woman to man, on the strength of the rather questionable history of the +Amazons, and especially of the story, believed to be authentic, of the +female body-guard of the King of Dahomey,--females frightful enough to +need no other weapon than their looks to scare off an army of Cossacks. + +Miss Lurida Vincent, gold medallist of her year at the Corinna Institute, +was the leader of these advocates of virile womanhood. It was rather +singular that she should have elected to be the apostle of this extreme +doctrine, for she was herself far better equipped with brain than +muscles. In fact, she was a large-headed, large-eyed, long-eyelashed, +slender-necked, slightly developed young woman; looking almost like a +child at an age when many of the girls had reached their full stature and +proportions. In her studies she was so far in advance of her different +classes that there was always a wide gap between her and the second +scholar. So fatal to all rivalry had she proved herself that she passed +under the school name of The Terror. She learned so easily that she +undervalued her own extraordinary gifts, and felt the deepest admiration +for those of her friends endowed with faculties of an entirely different +and almost opposite nature. After sitting at her desk until her head was +hot and her feet were like ice, she would go and look at the blooming +young girls exercising in the gymnasium of the school, and feel as if she +would give all her knowledge, all her mathematics and strange tongues and +history, all those accomplishments that made her the encyclopaedia of +every class she belonged to, if she could go through the series of +difficult and graceful exercises in which she saw her schoolmates +delighting. + +One among them, especially, was the object of her admiration, as she was +of all who knew her exceptional powers in the line for which nature had +specially organized her. All the physical perfections which Miss Lurida +had missed had been united in Miss Euthymia Tower, whose school name was +The Wonder. Though of full womanly stature, there were several taller +girls of her age. While all her contours and all her movements betrayed +a fine muscular development, there was no lack of proportion, and her +finely shaped hands and feet showed that her organization was one of +those carefully finished masterpieces of nature which sculptors are +always in search of, and find it hard to detect among the imperfect +products of the living laboratory. + +This girl of eighteen was more famous than she cared to be for her +performances in the gymnasium. She commonly contented herself with the +same exercises that her companions were accustomed to. Only her +dumb-bells, with which she exercised easily and gracefully, were too +heavy for most of the girls to do more with than lift them from the +floor. She was fond of daring feats on the trapeze, and had to be +checked in her indulgence in them. The Professor of gymnastics at the +University came over to the Institute now and then, and it was a source +of great excitement to watch some of the athletic exercises in which the +young lady showed her remarkable muscular strength and skill in managing +herself in the accomplishment of feats which looked impossible at first +sight. How often The Terror had thought to herself that she would gladly +give up all her knowledge of Greek and the differential and integral +calculus if she could only perform the least of those feats which were +mere play to The Wonder! Miss Euthymia was not behind the rest in her +attainments in classical or mathematical knowledge, and she was one of +the very best students in the out-door branches,--botany, mineralogy, +sketching from nature,--to be found among the scholars of the Institute. + +There was an eight-oared boat rowed by a crew of the young ladies, of +which Miss Euthymia was the captain and pulled the bow oar. Poor little +Lurida could not pull an oar, but on great occasions, when there were +many boats out, she was wanted as coxswain, being a mere feather-weight, +and quick-witted enough to serve well in the important office where +brains are more needed than muscle. + +There was also an eight-oared boat belonging to the University, and rowed +by a picked crew of stalwart young fellows. The bow oar and captain of +the University crew was a powerful young man, who, like the captain of +the girls' boat, was a noted gymnast. He had had one or two quiet trials +with Miss Euthymia, in which, according to the ultras of the woman's +rights party, he had not vindicated the superiority of his sex in the way +which might have been expected. Indeed, it was claimed that he let a +cannon-ball drop when he ought to have caught it, and it was not disputed +that he had been ingloriously knocked over by a sand-bag projected by the +strong arms of the young maiden. This was of course a story that was +widely told and laughingly listened to, and the captain of the University +crew had become a little sensitive on the subject. When there was a +talk, therefore, about a race between the champion boats of the two +institutions there was immense excitement in both of them, as well as +among the members of the Pansophian Society and all the good people of +the village. + +There were many objections to be overcome. Some thought it unladylike +for the young maidens to take part in a competition which must attract +many lookers-on, and which it seemed to them very hoidenish to venture +upon. Some said it was a shame to let a crew of girls try their strength +against an equal number of powerful young men. These objections were +offset by the advocates of the race by the following arguments. They +maintained that it was no more hoidenish to row a boat than it was to +take a part in the calisthenic exercises, and that the girls had nothing +to do with the young men's boat, except to keep as much ahead of it as +possible. As to strength, the woman's righters believed that, weight for +weight, their crew was as strong as the other, and of course due +allowance would be made for the difference of weight and all other +accidental hindrances. It was time to test the boasted superiority of +masculine muscle. Here was a chance. If the girls beat, the whole +country would know it, and after that female suffrage would be only a +question of time. Such was the conclusion, from rather insufficient +premises, it must be confessed; but if nature does nothing per +saltum,--by jumps,--as the old adage has it, youth is very apt to take +long leaps from a fact to a possible sequel or consequence. So it had +come about that a contest between the two boat-crews was looked forward +to with an interest almost equal to that with which the combat between +the Horatii and Curiatii was regarded. + +The terms had been at last arranged between the two crews, after cautious +protocols and many diplomatic discussions. It was so novel in its +character that it naturally took a good deal of time to adjust it in such +a way as to be fair to both parties. The course must not be too long for +the lighter and weaker crew, for the staying power of the young persons +who made it up could not be safely reckoned upon. A certain advantage +must be allowed them at the start, and this was a delicate matter to +settle. The weather was another important consideration. June would be +early enough, in all probability, and if the lake should be tolerably +smooth the grand affair might come off some time in that month. Any +roughness of the water would be unfavorable to the weaker crew. The +rowing-course was on the eastern side of the lake, the starting-point +being opposite the Anchor Tavern; from that three quarters of a mile to +the south, where the turning-stake was fixed, so that the whole course of +one mile and a half would bring the boats back to their starting-point. + +The race was to be between the Algonquin, eight-oared boat with +outriggers, rowed by young men, students of Stoughton University, and the +Atalanta, also eight-oared and outrigger boat, by young ladies from the +Corinna Institute. Their boat was three inches wider than the other, for +various sufficient reasons, one of which was to make it a little less +likely to go over and throw its crew into the water, which was a sound +precaution, though all the girls could swim, and one at least, the bow +oar, was a famous swimmer, who had pulled a drowning man out of the water +after a hard struggle to keep him from carrying her down with him. + +Though the coming trial had not been advertised in the papers, so as to +draw together a rabble of betting men and ill-conditioned lookers-on, +there was a considerable gathering, made up chiefly of the villagers and +the students of the two institutions. Among them were a few who were +disposed to add to their interest in the trial by small wagers. The bets +were rather in favor of the "Quins," as the University boat was commonly +called, except where the natural sympathy of the young ladies or the +gallantry of some of the young men led them to risk their gloves or +cigars, or whatever it might be, on the Atalantas. The elements of +judgment were these: average weight of the Algonquins one hundred and +sixty-five pounds; average weight of the Atalantas, one hundred and +forty-eight pounds; skill in practice about equal; advantage of the +narrow boat equal to three lengths; whole distance allowed the Atalantas +eight lengths,--a long stretch to be made up in a mile and a half. + +And so both crews began practising for the grand trial. + + + + +II + +THE BOAT-RACE. + +The 10th of June was a delicious summer day, rather warm, but still and +bright. The water was smooth, and the crews were in the best possible +condition. All was expectation, and for some time nothing but +expectation. No boat-race or regatta ever began at the time appointed +for the start. Somebody breaks an oar, or somebody fails to appear in +season, or something is the matter with a seat or an outrigger; or if +there is no such excuse, the crew of one or both or all the boats to take +part in the race must paddle about to get themselves ready for work, to +the infinite weariness of all the spectators, who naturally ask why all +this getting ready is not attended to beforehand. The Algonquins wore +plain gray flannel suits and white caps. The young ladies were all in +dark blue dresses, touched up with a red ribbon here and there, and wore +light straw hats. The little coxswain of the Atalanta was the last to +step on board. As she took her place she carefully deposited at her feet +a white handkerchief wrapped about something or other, perhaps a sponge, +in case the boat should take in water. + +At last the Algonquin shot out from the little nook where she lay, +--long, narrow, shining, swift as a pickerel when he darts from the reedy +shore. It was a beautiful sight to see the eight young fellows in their +close-fitting suits, their brown muscular arms bare, bending their backs +for the stroke and recovering, as if they were parts of a single machine. + +"The gals can't stan' it agin them fellers," said the old blacksmith from +the village. + +"You wait till the gals get a-goin'," said the carpenter, who had often +worked in the gymnasium of the Corinna Institute, and knew something of +their muscular accomplishments. "Y' ought to see 'em climb ropes, and +swing dumb-bells, and pull in them rowin'-machines. Ask Jake there +whether they can't row a mild in double-quick time,--he knows all abaout +it." + +Jake was by profession a fisherman, and a freshwater fisherman in a +country village is inspector-general of all that goes on out-of-doors, +being a lazy, wandering sort of fellow, whose study of the habits and +habitats of fishes gives him a kind of shrewdness of observation, just as +dealing in horses is an education of certain faculties, and breeds a race +of men peculiarly cunning, suspicious, wary, and wide awake, with a +rhetoric of appreciation and depreciation all its own. + +Jake made his usual preliminary signal, and delivered himself to the +following effect: + +"Wahl, I don' know jest what to say. I've seed 'em both often enough +when they was practisin', an' I tell ye the' wa'n't no slouch abaout +neither on 'em. But them bats is all-fired long, 'n' eight on 'em +stretched in a straight line eendways makes a consid'able piece aout 'f a +mile 'n' a haaf. I'd bate on them gals if it wa'n't that them fellers is +naterally longer winded, as the gals 'll find aout by the time they git +raound the stake 'n' over agin the big ellum. I'll go ye a quarter on +the pahnts agin the petticoats." + +The fresh-water fisherman had expressed the prevailing belief that the +young ladies were overmatched. Still there were not wanting those who +thought the advantage allowed the "Lantas," as they called the Corinna +boatcrew, was too great, and that it would be impossible for the "Quins" +to make it up and go by them. + +The Algonquins rowed up and down a few times before the spectators. They +appeared in perfect training, neither too fat nor too fine, mettlesome as +colts, steady as draught-horses, deep-breathed as oxen, disciplined to +work together as symmetrically as a single sculler pulls his pair of +oars. The fisherman offered to make his quarter fifty cents. No takers. + +Five minutes passed, and all eyes were strained to the south, looking for +the Atalanta. A clump of trees hid the edge of the lake along which the +Corinna's boat was stealing towards the starting-point. Presently the +long shell swept into view, with its blooming rowers, who, with their +ample dresses, seemed to fill it almost as full as Raphael fills his +skiff on the edge of the Lake of Galilee. But how steadily the Atalanta +came on!---no rocking, no splashing, no apparent strain; the bow oar +turning to look ahead every now and then, and watching her course, which +seemed to be straight as an arrow, the beat of the strokes as true and +regular as the pulse of the healthiest rower among them all. And if the +sight of the other boat and its crew was beautiful, how lovely was the +look of this! Eight young girls,--young ladies, for those who prefer that +more dignified and less attractive expression,--all in the flush of +youth, all in vigorous health; every muscle taught its duty; each rower +alert, not to be a tenth of a second out of time, or let her oar dally +with the water so as to lose an ounce of its propelling virtue; every eye +kindling with the hope of victory. Each of the boats was cheered as it +came in sight, but the cheers for the Atalanta were naturally the +loudest, as the gallantry of one sex and the clear, high voices of the +other gave it life and vigor. + +"Take your places!" shouted the umpire, five minutes before the half +hour. The two boats felt their way slowly and cautiously to their +positions, which had been determined by careful measurement. After a +little backing and filling they got into line, at the proper distance +from each other, and sat motionless, their bodies bent forward, their +arms outstretched, their oars in the water, waiting for the word. + +"Go!" shouted the umpire. + +Away sprang the Atalanta, and far behind her leaped the Algonquin, her +oars bending like so many long Indian bows as their blades flashed +through the water. + +"A stern chase is a long chase," especially when one craft is a great +distance behind the other. It looked as if it would be impossible for +the rear boat to overcome the odds against it. Of course the Algonquin +kept gaining, but could it possibly gain enough? That was the question. +As the boats got farther and farther away, it became more and more +difficult to determine what change there was in the interval between +them. But when they came to rounding the stake it was easier to guess at +the amount of space which had been gained. It was clear that something +like half the distance, four lengths, as nearly as could be estimated, +had been made up in rowing the first three quarters of a mile. Could the +Algonquins do a little better than this in the second half of the +race-course, they would be sure of winning. + +The boats had turned the stake, and were coming in rapidly. Every minute +the University boat was getting nearer the other. + +"Go it, Quins!" shouted the students. + +"Pull away, Lantas!" screamed the girls, who were crowding down to the +edge of the water. + +Nearer,--nearer,--the rear boat is pressing the other more and more +closely,--a few more strokes, and they will be even, for there is but one +length between them, and thirty rods will carry them to the line. It +looks desperate for the Atalantas. The bow oar of the Algonquin turns +his head. He sees the little coxswain leaning forward at every stroke, +as if her trivial weight were of such mighty consequence,--but a few +ounces might turn the scale of victory. As he turned he got a glimpse of +the stroke oar of the Atalanta. What a flash of loveliness it was! Her +face was like the reddest of June roses, with the heat and the strain and +the passion of expected triumph. The upper button of her close-fitting +flannel suit had strangled her as her bosom heaved with exertion, and it +had given way before the fierce clutch she made at it. The bow oar was a +staunch and steady rower, but he was human. The blade of his oar +lingered in the water; a little more and he would have caught a crab, and +perhaps lost the race by his momentary bewilderment. + +The boat, which seemed as if it had all the life and nervousness of a +Derby three-year-old, felt the slight check, and all her men bent more +vigorously to their oars. The Atalantas saw the movement, and made a +spurt to keep their lead and gain upon it if they could. It was of no +use. The strong arms of the young men were too much for the young +maidens; only a few lengths remained to be rowed, and they would +certainly pass the Atalanta before she could reach the line. + +The little coxswain saw that it was all up with the girls' crew if she +could not save them by some strategic device. + + "Dolus an virtus quis in hoste requirat?" + +she whispered to herself,--for The Terror remembered her Virgil as she +did everything else she ever studied. As she stooped, she lifted the +handkerchief at her feet, and took from it a flaming bouquet. "Look!" she +cried, and flung it just forward of the track of the Algonquin. The +captain of the University boat turned his head, and there was the lovely +vision which had a moment before bewitched him. The owner of all that +loveliness must, he thought, have flung the bouquet. It was a challenge: +how could he be such a coward as to decline accepting it. + +He was sure he could win the race now, and he would sweep past the line +in triumph with the great bunch of flowers at the stem of his boat, proud +as Van Tromp in the British channel with the broom at his mast-head. + +He turned the boat's head a little by backing water. He came up with the +floating flowers, and near enough to reach them. He stooped and snatched +them up, with the loss perhaps of a second in all,--no more. He felt sure +of his victory. + +How can one tell the story of the finish in cold-blooded preterites? Are +we not there ourselves? Are not our muscles straining with those of +these sixteen young creatures, full of hot, fresh blood, their nerves all +tingling like so many tight-strained harp-strings, all their life +concentrating itself in this passionate moment of supreme effort? No! +We are seeing, not telling about what somebody else once saw! + +--The bow of the Algonquin passes the stern of the Atalanta! + +--The bow of the Algonquin is on a level with the middle of the Atalanta! + +--Three more lengths' rowing and the college crew will pass the girls! + +--"Hurrah for the Quins!" The Algonquin ranges up alongside of the +Atalanta! + +"Through with her!" shouts the captain of the Algonquin. + +"Now, girls!" shrieks the captain of the Atalanta. + +They near the line, every rower straining desperately, almost madly. + +--Crack goes the oar of the Atalanta's captain, and up flash its +splintered fragments, as the stem of her boat springs past the line, +eighteen inches at least ahead of the Algonquin. + +Hooraw for the Lantas! Hooraw for the Girls! Hooraw for the Institoot! +shout a hundred voices. + +"Hurrah for woman's rights and female suffrage!" pipes the small voice of +The Terror, and there is loud laughing and cheering all round. + +She had not studied her classical dictionary and her mythology for +nothing. "I have paid off one old score," she said. "Set down my damask +roses against the golden apples of Hippomenes!" + +It was that one second lost in snatching up the bouquet which gave the +race to the Atalantas. + + + + +III + +THE WHITE CANOE. + +While the two boats were racing, other boats with lookers-on in them were +rowing or sailing in the neighborhood of the race-course. The scene on +the water was a gay one, for the young people in the boats were, many of +them, acquainted with each other. There was a good deal of lively talk +until the race became too exciting. Then many fell silent, until, as the +boats neared the line, and still more as they crossed it, the shouts +burst forth which showed how a cramp of attention finds its natural +relief in a fit of convulsive exclamation. + +But far away, on the other side of the lake, a birchbark canoe was to be +seen, in which sat a young man, who paddled it skillfully and swiftly. +It was evident enough that he was watching the race intently, but the +spectators could see little more than that. One of them, however, who +sat upon the stand, had a powerful spy-glass, and could distinguish his +motions very minutely and exactly. It was seen by this curious observer +that the young man had an opera-glass with him, which he used a good deal +at intervals. The spectator thought he kept it directed to the girls' +boat, chiefly, if not exclusively. He thought also that the opera-glass +was more particularly pointed towards the bow of the boat, and came to +the natural conclusion that the bow oar, Miss Euthymia Tower, captain of +the Atalantas, "The Wonder" of the Corinna Institute, was the attraction +which determined the direction of the instrument. + +"Who is that in the canoe over there?" asked the owner of the spy-glass. + +"That's just what we should like to know," answered the old landlord's +wife. "He and his man boarded with us when they first came, but we could +never find out anything about him only just his name and his ways of +living. His name is Kirkwood, Maurice Kirkwood, Esq., it used to come on +his letters. As for his ways of living, he was the solitariest human +being that I ever came across. His man carried his meals up to him. He +used to stay in his room pretty much all day, but at night he would be +off, walking, or riding on horseback, or paddling about in the lake, +sometimes till nigh morning. There's something very strange about that +Mr. Kirkwood. But there don't seem to be any harm in him. Only nobody +can guess what his business is. They got up a story about him at one +time. What do you think? They said he was a counterfeiter! And so they +went one night to his room, when he was out, and that man of his was away +too, and they carried keys, and opened pretty much everything; and they +found--well, they found just nothing at all except writings and +letters,--letters from places in America and in England, and some with +Italian postmarks: that was all. Since that time the sheriff and his +folks have let him alone and minded their own business. He was a +gentleman,--anybody ought to have known that; and anybody that knew about +his nice ways of living and behaving, and knew the kind of wear he had +for his underclothing, might have known it. I could have told those +officers that they had better not bother him. I know the ways of real +gentlemen and real ladies, and I know those fellows in store clothes that +look a little too fine,--outside. Wait till washing-day comes!" + +The good lady had her own standards for testing humanity, and they were +not wholly unworthy of consideration; they were quite as much to be +relied on as the judgments of the travelling phrenologist, who sent his +accomplice on before him to study out the principal personages in the +village, and in the light of these revelations interpreted the bumps, +with very little regard to Gall and Spurzheim, or any other authorities. + +Even with the small amount of information obtained by the search among +his papers and effects, the gossips of the village had constructed +several distinct histories for the mysterious stranger. He was an agent +of a great publishing house; a leading contributor to several important +periodicals; the author of that anonymously published novel which had +made so much talk; the poet of a large clothing establishment; a spy of +the Italian, some said the Russian, some said the British, Government; a +proscribed refugee from some country where he had been plotting; a +school-master without a school, a minister without a pulpit, an actor +without an engagement; in short, there was no end to the perfectly +senseless stories that were told about him, from that which made him out +an escaped convict to the whispered suggestion that he was the eccentric +heir to a great English title and estate. + +The one unquestionable fact was that of his extraordinary seclusion. +Nobody in the village, no student in the University, knew his history. +No young lady in the Corinna Institute had ever had a word from him. +Sometimes, as the boats of the University or the Institute were returning +at dusk, their rowers would see the canoe stealing into the shadows as +they drew near it. Sometimes on a moonlight night, when a party of the +young ladies were out upon the lake, they would see the white canoe +gliding ghost-like in the distance. And it had happened more than once +that when a boat's crew had been out with singers among them, while they +were in the midst of a song, the white canoe would suddenly appear and +rest upon the water,--not very near them, but within hearing +distance,--and so remain until the singing was over, when it would steal +away and be lost sight of in some inlet or behind some jutting rock. + +Naturally enough, there was intense curiosity about this young man. The +landlady had told her story, which explained nothing. There was nobody +to be questioned about him except his servant, an Italian, whose name was +Paolo, but who to the village was known as Mr. Paul. + +Mr. Paul would have seemed the easiest person in the world to worm a +secret out of. He was good-natured, child-like as a Heathen Chinee, +talked freely with everybody in such English as he had at command, knew +all the little people of the village, and was followed round by them +partly from his personal attraction for them, and partly because he was +apt to have a stick of candy or a handful of peanuts or other desirable +luxury in his pocket for any of his little friends he met with. He had +that wholesome, happy look, so uncommon in our arid countrymen,--a look +hardly to be found except where figs and oranges ripen in the open air. +A kindly climate to grow up in, a religion which takes your money and +gives you a stamped ticket good at Saint Peter's box office, a roomy +chest and a good pair of lungs in it, an honest digestive apparatus, a +lively temperament, a cheerful acceptance of the place in life assigned +to one by nature and circumstance,--these are conditions under which life +may be quite comfortable to endure, and certainly is very pleasant to +contemplate. All these conditions were united in Paolo. He was the +easiest; pleasantest creature to talk with that one could ask for a +companion. His southern vivacity, his amusing English, his simplicity and +openness, made him friends everywhere. + +It seemed as if it would be a very simple matter to get the history of +his master out of this guileless and unsophisticated being. He had been +tried by all the village experts. The rector had put a number of +well-studied careless questions, which failed of their purpose. The old +librarian of the town library had taken note of all the books he carried +to his master, and asked about his studies and pursuits. Paolo found it +hard to understand his English, apparently, and answered in the most +irrelevant way. The leading gossip of the village tried her skill in +pumping him for information. It was all in vain. + +His master's way of life was peculiar,--in fact, eccentric. He had hired +rooms in an old-fashioned three-story house. He had two rooms in the +second and third stories of this old wooden building: his study in the +second, his sleeping-room in the one above it. Paolo lived in the +basement, where he had all the conveniences for cooking, and played the +part of chef for his master and himself. This was only a part of his +duty, for he was a man-of-all-work, purveyor, steward, chambermaid,--as +universal in his services for one man as Pushee at the Anchor Tavern used +to be for everybody. + +It so happened that Paolo took a severe cold one winter's day, and had +such threatening symptoms that he asked the baker, when he called, to +send the village physician to see him. In the course of his visit the +doctor naturally inquired about the health of Paolo's master. + +"Signor Kirkwood well,--molto bene," said Paolo. "Why does he keep out +of sight as he does?" asked the doctor. + +"He always so," replied Paolo. "Una antipatia." + +Whether Paolo was off his guard with the doctor, whether he revealed it +to him as to a father confessor, or whether he thought it time that the +reason of his master's seclusion should be known, the doctor did not feel +sure. At any rate, Paolo was not disposed to make any further +revelations. Una antipatia,--an antipathy,--that was all the doctor +learned. He thought the matter over, and the more he reflected the more +he was puzzled. What could an antipathy be that made a young man a +recluse! Was it a dread of blue sky and open air, of the smell of +flowers, or some electrical impression to which he was unnaturally +sensitive? + +Dr. Butts carried these questions home with him. His wife was a +sensible, discreet woman, whom he could trust with many professional +secrets. He told her of Paolo's revelation, and talked it over with her +in the light of his experience and her own; for she had known some +curious cases of constitutional likes and aversions. + +Mrs. Butts buried the information in the grave of her memory, where it +lay for nearly a week. At the end of that time it emerged in a +confidential whisper to her favorite sister-in-law, a perfectly safe +person. Twenty-four hours later the story was all over the village that +Maurice Kirkwood was the subject of a strange, mysterious, unheard-of +antipathy to something, nobody knew what; and the whole neighborhood +naturally resolved itself into an unorganized committee of investigation. + + + + +IV + +What is a country village without its mysterious personage? Few are now +living who can remember the advent of the handsome young man who was the +mystery of our great university town "sixty years since,"--long enough +ago for a romance to grow out of a narrative, as Waverley may remind us. +The writer of this narrative remembers him well, and is not sure that he +has not told the strange story in some form or other to the last +generation, or to the one before the last. No matter: if he has told it +they have forgotten it,--that is, if they have ever read it; and whether +they have or have not, the story is singular enough to justify running +the risk of repetition. + +This young man, with a curious name of Scandinavian origin, appeared +unheralded in the town, as it was then, of Cantabridge. He wanted +employment, and soon found it in the shape of manual labor, which he +undertook and performed cheerfully. But his whole appearance showed +plainly enough that he was bred to occupations of a very different +nature, if, in deed, he had been accustomed to any kind of toil for his +living. His aspect was that of one of gentle birth. His hands were not +those of a laborer, and his features were delicate and refined, as well +as of remarkable beauty. Who he was, where he came from, why he had come +to Cantabridge, was never clearly explained. He was alone, without +friends, except among the acquaintances he had made in his new residence. +If he had any correspondents, they were not known to the neighborhood +where he was living. But if he had neither friends nor correspondents, +there was some reason for believing that he had enemies. Strange +circumstances occurred which connected themselves with him in an ominous +and unaccountable way. A threatening letter was slipped under the door +of a house where he was visiting. He had a sudden attack of illness, +which was thought to look very much like the effect of poison. At one +time he disappeared, and was found wandering, bewildered, in a town many +miles from that where he was residing. When questioned how he came +there; he told a coherent story that he had been got, under some pretext, +or in some not incredible way, into a boat, from which, at a certain +landing-place, he had escaped and fled for his life, which he believed +was in danger from his kidnappers. + +Whoever his enemies may have been,--if they really existed,--he did not +fall a victim to their plots, so far as known to or remembered by this +witness. + +Various interpretations were put upon his story. Conjectures were as +abundant as they were in the case of Kaspar Hauser. That he was of good +family seemed probable; that he was of distinguished birth, not +impossible; that he was the dangerous rival of a candidate for a greatly +coveted position in one of the northern states of Europe was a favorite +speculation of some of the more romantic young persons. There was no +dramatic ending to this story,--at least none is remembered by the +present writer. + +"He left a name," like the royal Swede, of whose lineage he may have been +for aught that the village people knew, but not a name at which anybody +"grew pale;" for he had swindled no one, and broken no woman's heart with +false vows. Possibly some withered cheeks may flush faintly as they +recall the handsome young man who came before the Cantabridge maidens +fully equipped for a hero of romance when the century was in its first +quarter. + +The writer has been reminded of the handsome Swede by the incidents +attending the advent of the unknown and interesting stranger who had made +his appearance at Arrowhead Village. + +It was a very insufficient and unsatisfactory reason to assign for the +young man's solitary habits that he was the subject of an antipathy. For +what do we understand by that word? When a young lady screams at the +sight of a spider, we accept her explanation that she has a natural +antipathy to the creature. When a person expresses a repugnance to some +wholesome article of food, agreeable to most people, we are satisfied if +he gives the same reason. And so of various odors, which are pleasing to +some persons and repulsive to others. We do not pretend to go behind the +fact. It is an individual, and it may be a family, peculiarity. Even +between different personalities there is an instinctive elective dislike +as well as an elective affinity. We are not bound to give a reason why +Dr. Fell is odious to us any more than the prisoner who peremptorily +challenges a juryman is bound to say why he does it; it is enough that he +"does not like his looks." + +There was nothing strange, then, that Maurice Kirkwood should have his +special antipathy; a great many other people have odd likes and dislikes. +But it was a very curious thing that this antipathy should be alleged as +the reason for his singular mode of life. All sorts of explanations were +suggested, not one of them in the least satisfactory, but serving to keep +the curiosity of inquirers active until they were superseded by a new +theory. One story was that Maurice had a great fear of dogs. It grew at +last to a connected narrative, in which a fright in childhood from a +rabid mongrel was said to have given him such a sensitiveness to the near +presence of dogs that he was liable to convulsions if one came close to +him. + +This hypothesis had some plausibility. No other creature would be so +likely to trouble a person who had an antipathy to it. Dogs are very apt +to make the acquaintance of strangers, in a free and easy way. They are +met with everywhere,--in one's daily walk, at the thresholds of the doors +one enters, in the gentleman's library, on the rug of my lady's +sitting-room and on the cushion of her carriage. It is true that there +are few persons who have an instinctive repugnance to this "friend of +man." But what if this so-called antipathy were only a fear, a terror, +which borrowed the less unmanly name? It was a fair question, if, +indeed, the curiosity of the public had a right to ask any questions at +all about a harmless individual who gave no offence, and seemed entitled +to the right of choosing his way of living to suit himself, without being +submitted to espionage. + +There was no positive evidence bearing on the point as yet. But one of +the village people had a large Newfoundland dog, of a very sociable +disposition, with which he determined to test the question. He watched +for the time when Maurice should leave his house for the woods or the +lake, and started with his dog to meet him. The animal walked up to the +stranger in a very sociable fashion, and began making his acquaintance, +after the usual manner of well-bred dogs; that is, with the courtesies +and blandishments by which the canine Chesterfield is distinguished from +the ill-conditioned cur. Maurice patted him in a friendly way, and spoke +to him as one who was used to the fellowship of such companions. That +idle question and foolish story were disposed of, therefore, and some +other solution must be found, if possible. + +A much more common antipathy is that which is entertained with regard to +cats. This has never been explained. It is not mere aversion to the +look of the creature, or to any sensible quality known to the common +observer. The cat is pleasing in aspect, graceful in movement, nice in +personal habits, and of amiable disposition. No cause of offence is +obvious, and yet there are many persons who cannot abide the presence of +the most innocent little kitten. They can tell, in some mysterious way, +that there is a cat in the room when they can neither see nor hear the +creature. Whether it is an electrical or quasi-magnetic phenomenon, or +whatever it may be, of the fact of this strange influence there are too +many well-authenticated instances to allow its being questioned. But +suppose Maurice Kirkwood to be the subject of this antipathy in its +extremest degree, it would in no manner account for the isolation to +which he had condemned himself. He might shun the firesides of the old +women whose tabbies were purring by their footstools, but these worthy +dames do not make up the whole population. + +These two antipathies having been disposed of, a new suggestion was +started, and was talked over with a curious sort of half belief, very +much as ghost stories are told in a circle of moderately instructed and +inquiring persons. This was that Maurice was endowed with the unenviable +gift of the evil eye. He was in frequent communication with Italy, as +his letters showed, and had recently been residing in that country, as +was learned from Paolo. Now everybody knows that the evil eye is not +rarely met with in Italy. Everybody who has ever read Mr. Story's "Roba +di Roma" knows what a terrible power it is which the owner of the evil +eye exercises. It can blight and destroy whatever it falls upon. No +person's life or limb is safe if the jettatura, the withering glance of +the deadly organ, falls upon him. It must be observed that this malign +effect may follow a look from the holiest personages, that is, if we may +assume that a monk is such as a matter of course. Certainly we have a +right to take it for granted that the late Pope, Pius Ninth, was an +eminently holy man, and yet he had the name of dispensing the mystic and +dreaded jettatura as well as his blessing. If Maurice Kirkwood carried +that destructive influence, so that his clear blue eyes were more to be +feared than the fascinations of the deadliest serpent, it could easily be +understood why he kept his look away from all around him whom he feared +he might harm. + +No sensible person in Arrowhead Village really believed in the evil eye, +but it served the purpose of a temporary hypothesis, as do many +suppositions which we take as a nucleus for our observations without +putting any real confidence in them. It was just suited to the romantic +notions of the more flighty persons in the village, who had meddled more +or less with Spiritualism, and were ready for any new fancy, if it were +only wild enough. + +The riddle of the young stranger's peculiarity did not seem likely to +find any very speedy solution. Every new suggestion furnished talk for +the gossips of the village and the babble of the many tongues in the two +educational institutions. Naturally, the discussion was liveliest among +the young ladies. Here is an extract from a letter of one of these young +ladies, who, having received at her birth the ever-pleasing name of Mary, +saw fit to have herself called Mollie in the catalogue and in her +letters. The old postmaster of the town to which her letter was directed +took it up to stamp, and read on the envelope the direction to "Miss Lulu +Pinrow." He brought the stamp down with a vicious emphasis, coming very +near blotting out the nursery name, instead of cancelling the +postage-stamp. "Lulu!" he exclaimed. "I should like to know if that +great strapping girl isn't out of her cradle yet! I suppose Miss Louisa +will think that belongs to her, but I saw her christened and I heard the +name the minister gave her, and it was n't 'Lulu,' or any such baby +nonsense." And so saying, he gave it a fling to the box marked P, as if +it burned his fingers. Why a grown-up young woman allowed herself to be +cheapened in the way so many of them do by the use of names which become +them as well as the frock of a ten-year-old schoolgirl would become a +graduate of the Corinna Institute, the old postmaster could not guess. +He was a queer old man. + +The letter thus scornfully treated runs over with a young girl's written +loquacity: + +"Oh, Lulu, there is such a sensation as you never saw or heard of 'in all +your born days,' as mamma used to say. He has been at the village for +some time, but lately we have had--oh, the weirdest stories about him! +'The Mysterious Stranger is the name some give him, but we girls call him +the Sachem, because he paddles about in an Indian canoe. If I should +tell you all the things that are said about him I should use up all my +paper ten times over. He has never made a visit to the Institute, and +none of the girls have ever spoken to him, but the people at the village +say he is very, very handsome. We are dying to get a look at him, of +course--though there is a horrid story about him--that he has the evil +eye did you ever hear about the evil eye? If a person who is born with +it looks at you, you die, or something happens--awful--is n't it? + +"The rector says he never goes to church, but then you know a good many +of the people that pass the summer at the village never do--they think +their religion must have vacations--that's what I've heard they +say--vacations, just like other hard work--it ought not to be hard work, +I'm sure, but I suppose they feel so about it. Should you feel afraid to +have him look at you? Some of the girls say they would n't have him for +the whole world, but I shouldn't mind it--especially if I had on my +eyeglasses. Do you suppose if there is anything in the evil eye it would +go through glass? I don't believe it. Do you think blue eye-glasses +would be better than common ones? Don't laugh at me--they tell such +weird stories! The Terror--Lurida Vincent, you know-makes fun of all +they say about it, but then she 'knows everything and doesn't believe +anything,' the girls say--Well, I should be awfully scared, I know, if +anybody that had the evil eye should look at me--but--oh, I don't +know--but if it was a young man--and if he was very--very +good-looking--I think--perhaps I would run the risk--but don't tell +anybody I said any such horrid thing--and burn this letter right +up--there 's a dear good girl." + +It is to be hoped that no reader will doubt the genuineness of this +letter. There are not quite so many "awfuls" and "awfullys" as one +expects to find in young ladies' letters, but there are two "weirds," +which may be considered a fair allowance. How it happened that "jolly" +did not show itself can hardly be accounted for; no doubt it turns up two +or three times at least in the postscript. + +Here is an extract from another letter. This was from one of the +students of Stoughton University to a friend whose name as it was written +on the envelope was Mr. Frank Mayfield. The old postmaster who found +fault with Miss "Lulu's" designation would probably have quarrelled with +this address, if it had come under his eye. "Frank" is a very pretty, +pleasant-sounding name, and it is not strange that many persons use it in +common conversation all their days when speaking of a friend. Were they +really christened by that name, any of these numerous Franks? Perhaps +they were, and if so there is nothing to be said. But if not, was the +baptismal name Francis or Franklin? The mind is apt to fasten in a very +perverse and unpleasant way upon this question, which too often there is +no possible way of settling. One might hope, if he outlived the bearer +of the appellation, to get at the fact; but since even gravestones have +learned to use the names belonging to childhood and infancy in their +solemn record, the generation which docks its Christian names in such an +un-Christian way will bequeath whole churchyards full of riddles to +posterity. How it will puzzle and distress the historians and +antiquarians of a coming generation to settle what was the real name of +Dan and Bert and Billy, which last is legible on a white marble slab, +raised in memory of a grown person, in a certain burial-ground in a town +in Essex County, Massachusetts! + +But in the mean time we are forgetting the letter directed to Mr. Frank +Mayfield. + +"DEAR FRANK,--Hooray! Hurrah! Rah! + +"I have made the acquaintance of 'The Mysterious Stranger'! It happened +by a queer sort of accident, which came pretty near relieving you of the +duty of replying to this letter. I was out in my little boat, which +carries a sail too big for her, as I know and ought to have remembered. +One of those fitful flaws of wind to which the lake is so liable struck +the sail suddenly, and over went my boat. My feet got tangled in the +sheet somehow, and I could not get free. I had hard work to keep my head +above water, and I struggled desperately to escape from my toils; for if +the boat were to go down I should be dragged down with her. I thought of +a good many things in the course of some four or five minutes, I can tell +you, and I got a lesson about time better than anything Kant and all the +rest of them have to say of it. After I had been there about an ordinary +lifetime, I saw a white canoe making toward me, and I knew that our shy +young gentleman was coming to help me, and that we should become +acquainted without an introduction. So it was, sure enough. He saw what +the trouble was, managed to disentangle my feet without drowning me in +the process or upsetting his little flimsy craft, and, as I was somewhat +tired with my struggle, took me in tow and carried me to the landing +where he kept his canoe. I can't say that there is anything odd about +his manners or his way of talk. I judge him to be a native of one of our +Northern States,--perhaps a New Englander. He has lived abroad during +some parts of his life. He is not an artist, as it was at one time +thought he might be. He is a good-looking fellow, well developed, manly +in appearance, with nothing to excite special remark unless it be a +certain look of anxiety or apprehension which comes over him from time to +time. You remember our old friend Squire B., whose companion was killed +by lightning when he was standing close to him. You know the look he had +whenever anything like a thundercloud came up in the sky. Well, I should +say there was a look like that came over this Maurice Kirkwood's face +every now and then. I noticed that he looked round once or twice as if to +see whether some object or other was in sight. There was a little +rustling in the grass as if of footsteps, and this look came over his +features. A rabbit ran by us, and I watched to see if he showed any sign +of that antipathy we have heard so much of, but he seemed to be pleased +watching the creature. + +"If you ask me what my opinion is about this Maurice Kirkwood, I think he +is eccentric in his habit of life, but not what they call a 'crank' +exactly. He talked well enough about such matters as we spoke of,--the +lake, the scenery in general, the climate. I asked him to come over and +take a look at the college. He did n't promise, but I should not be +surprised if I should get him over there some day. I asked him why he +did n't go to the Pansophian meetings. He did n't give any reason, but +he shook his head in a very peculiar way, as much as to say that it was +impossible. + +"On the whole, I think it is nothing more than the same feeling of dread +of human society, or dislike for it, which under the name of religion +used to drive men into caves and deserts. What a pity that Protestantism +does not make special provision for all the freaks of individual +character! If we had a little more faith and a few more caverns, or +convenient places for making them, we should have hermits in these holes +as thick as woodchucks or prairie dogs. I should like to know if you +never had the feeling, + + "'Oh, that the desert were my dwelling-place!' + +"I know what your answer will be, of course. You will say, 'Certainly, + + "'With one fair spirit for my minister;'" + +"but I mean alone,--all alone. Don't you ever feel as if you should like +to have been a pillar-saint in the days when faith was as strong as lye +(spelt with a y), instead of being as weak as dish-water? (Jerry is +looking over my shoulder, and says this pun is too bad to send, and a +disgrace to the University--but never mind.) I often feel as if I should +like to roost on a pillar a hundred feet high,--yes, and have it soaped +from top to bottom. Wouldn't it be fun to look down at the bores and the +duns? Let us get up a pillar-roosters' association. (Jerry--still +looking over says there is an absurd contradiction in the idea.) + +"What a matter-of-fact idiot Jerry is! + +"How do you like looking over, Mr. Inspector general?" + +The reader will not get much information out of this lively young +fellow's letter, but he may get a little. It is something to know that +the mysterious resident of Arrowhead Village did not look nor talk like a +crazy person; that he was of agreeable aspect and address, helpful when +occasion offered, and had nothing about him, so far as yet appeared, to +prevent his being an acceptable member of society. + +Of course the people in the village could never be contented without +learning everything there was to be learned about their visitor. All the +city papers were examined for advertisements. If a cashier had +absconded, if a broker had disappeared, if a railroad president was +missing, some of the old stories would wake up and get a fresh currency, +until some new circumstance gave rise to a new hypothesis. Unconscious of +all these inquiries and fictions, Maurice Kirkwood lived on in his +inoffensive and unexplained solitude, and seemed likely to remain an +unsolved enigma. The "Sachem" of the boating girls became the "Sphinx" +of the village ramblers, and it was agreed on all hands that Egypt did +not hold any hieroglyphics harder to make out than the meaning of this +young man's odd way of living. + + + + +V + +THE ENIGMA STUDIED. + +It was a curious, if it was not a suspicious, circumstance that a young +man, seemingly in good health, of comely aspect, looking as if made for +companionship, should keep himself apart from all the world around him in +a place where there was a general feeling of good neighborhood and a +pleasant social atmosphere. The Public Library was a central point which +brought people together. The Pansophian Society did a great deal to make +them acquainted with each other for many of the meetings were open to +outside visitors, and the subjects discussed in the meetings furnished +the material for conversation in their intervals. A card of invitation +had been sent by the Secretary to Maurice, in answer to which Paolo +carried back a polite note of regret. The paper had a narrow rim of +black, implying apparently some loss of relative or friend, but not any +very recent and crushing bereavement. This refusal to come to the +meetings of the society was only what was expected. It was proper to ask +him, but his declining the invitation showed that he did not wish for +attentions or courtesies. There was nothing further to be done to bring +him out of his shell, and seemingly nothing more to be learned about him +at present. + +In this state of things it was natural that all which had been previously +gathered by the few who had seen or known anything of him should be +worked over again. When there is no new ore to be dug, the old refuse +heaps are looked over for what may still be found in them. The landlord +of the Anchor Tavern, now the head of the boarding-house, talked about +Maurice, as everybody in the village did at one time or another. He had +not much to say, but he added a fact or two. + +The young gentleman was good pay,--so they all said. Sometimes he paid +in gold; sometimes in fresh bills, just out of the bank. He trusted his +man, Mr. Paul, with the money to pay his bills. He knew something about +horses; he showed that by the way he handled that colt,--the one that +threw the hostler and broke his collar-bone. "Mr. Paul come down to the +stable. 'Let me see that cult you all 'fraid of,' says he. 'My master, +he ride any hoss,' says Paul. 'You saddle him,' says be; and so they +did, and Paul, he led that colt--the kickinest and ugliest young beast +you ever see in your life--up to the place where his master, as he calls +him, and he lives. What does that Kirkwood do but clap on a couple of +long spurs and jump on to that colt's back, and off the beast goes, tail +up, heels flying, standing up on end, trying all sorts of capers, and at +last going it full run for a couple of miles, till he'd got about enough +of it. That colt went off as ferce as a wild-cat, and come back as quiet +as a cosset lamb. A man that pays his bills reg'lar, in good money, and +knows how to handle a hoss is three quarters of a gentleman, if he is n't +a whole one,--and most likely he is a whole one." + +So spake the patriarch of the Anchor Tavern. His wife had already given +her favorable opinion of her former guest. She now added something to +her description as a sequel to her husband's remarks. + +"I call him," she said, "about as likely a young gentleman as ever I +clapped my eyes on. He is rather slighter than I like to see a young man +of his age; if he was my sun, I should like to see him a little more +fleshy. I don't believe he weighs more than a hundred and thirty or +forty pounds. Did y' ever look at those eyes of his, M'randy? Just as +blue as succory flowers. I do like those light-complected young fellows, +with their fresh cheeks and their curly hair; somehow, curly hair doos +set off anybody's face. He is n't any foreigner, for all that he talks +Italian with that Mr. Paul that's his help. He looks just like our kind +of folks, the college kind, that's brought up among books, and is +handling 'em, and reading of 'em, and making of 'em, as like as not, all +their lives. All that you say about his riding the mad colt is just what +I should think he was up to, for he's as spry as a squirrel; you ought to +see him go over that fence, as I did once. I don't believe there's any +harm in that young gentleman,--I don't care what people say. I suppose +he likes this place just as other people like it, and cares more for +walking in the woods and paddling about in the water than he doos for +company; and if he doos, whose business is it, I should like to know?" + +The third of the speakers was Miranda, who had her own way of judging +people. + +"I never see him but two or three times," Miranda said. "I should like +to have waited on him, and got a chance to look stiddy at him when he was +eatin' his vittles. That 's the time to watch folks, when their jaws get +a-goin' and their eyes are on what's afore 'em. Do you remember that chap +the sheriff come and took away when we kep' tahvern? Eleven year ago it +was, come nex' Thanksgivin' time. A mighty grand gentleman from the City +he set up for. I watched him, and I watched him. Says I, I don't +believe you're no gentleman, says I. He eat with his knife, and that +ain't the way city folks eats. Every time I handed him anything I looked +closeter and closeter. Them whiskers never grooved on them cheeks, says +I to myself. Them 's paper collars, says I. That dimun in your +shirt-front hain't got no life to it, says I. I don't believe it's +nothiri' more 'n a bit o' winderglass. So says I to Pushee, 'You jes' +step out and get the sheriff to come in and take a look at that chap.' I +knowed he was after a fellah. He come right in, an' he goes up to the +chap. 'Why, Bill,' says he, 'I'm mighty glad to see yer. We've had the +hole in the wall you got out of mended, and I want your company to come +and look at the old place,' says he, and he pulls out a couple of +handcuffs and has 'em on his wrists in less than no time, an' off they +goes together! I know one thing about that young gentleman, +anyhow,--there ain't no better judge of what's good eatin' than he is. I +cooked him some maccaroni myself one day, and he sends word to me by that +Mr. Paul, 'Tell Miss Miranda,' says he, I that the Pope o' Rome don't +have no better cooked maccaroni than what she sent up to me yesterday,' +says he. I don' know much about the Pope o' Rome except that he's a +Roman Catholic, and I don' know who cooks for him, whether it's a man or +a woman; but when it comes to a dish o' maccaroni, I ain't afeard of +their shefs, as they call 'em,--them he-cooks that can't serve up a cold +potater without callin' it by some name nobody can say after 'em. But +this gentleman knows good cookin', and that's as good a sign of a +gentleman as I want to tell 'em by." + + + + +VI + +STILL AT FAULT. + +The house in which Maurice Kirkwood had taken up his abode was not a very +inviting one. It was old, and had been left in a somewhat dilapidated +and disorderly condition by the tenants who had lived in the part which +Maurice now occupied. They had piled their packing-boxes in the cellar, +with broken chairs, broken china, and other household wrecks. A cracked +mirror lay on an old straw mattress, the contents of which were airing +themselves through wide rips and rents. A lame clothes-horse was saddled +with an old rug fringed with a ragged border, out of which all the colors +had been completely trodden. No woman would have gone into a house in +such a condition. But the young man did not trouble himself much about +such matters, and was satisfied when the rooms which were to be occupied +by himself and his servant were made decent and tolerably comfortable. +During the fine season all this was not of much consequence, and if +Maurice made up his mind to stay through the winter he would have his +choice among many more eligible places. + +The summer vacation of the Corinna Institute had now arrived, and the +young ladies had scattered to their homes. Among the graduates of the +year were Miss Euthymia Tower and Miss Lurida Vincent, who had now +returned to their homes in Arrowhead Village. They were both glad to +rest after the long final examinations and the exercises of the closing +day, in which each of them had borne a conspicuous part. It was a +pleasant life they led in the village, which was lively enough at this +season. Walking, riding, driving, boating, visits to the Library, +meetings of the Pansophian Society, hops, and picnics made the time pass +very cheerfully, and soon showed their restoring influences. The +Terror's large eyes did not wear the dull, glazed look by which they had +too often betrayed the after effects of over-excitement of the strong and +active brain behind them. The Wonder gained a fresher bloom, and looked +full enough of life to radiate vitality into a statue of ice. They had a +boat of their own, in which they passed many delightful hours on the +lake, rowing, drifting, reading, telling of what had been, dreaming of +what might be. + +The Library was one of the chief centres of the fixed population, and +visited often by strangers. The old Librarian was a peculiar character, +as these officials are apt to be. They have a curious kind of knowledge, +sometimes immense in its way. They know the backs of books, their +title-pages, their popularity or want of it, the class of readers who +call for particular works, the value of different editions, and a good +deal besides. Their minds catch up hints from all manner of works on all +kinds of subjects. They will give a visitor a fact and a reference which +they are surprised to find they remember and which the visitor might have +hunted for a year. Every good librarian, every private book-owner, who +has grown into his library, finds he has a bunch of nerves going to every +bookcase, a branch to every shelf, and a twig to every book. These +nerves get very sensitive in old librarians, sometimes, and they do not +like to have a volume meddled with any more than they would like to have +their naked eyes handled. They come to feel at last that the books of a +great collection are a part, not merely of their own property, though +they are only the agents for their distribution, but that they are, as it +were, outlying portions of their own organization. The old Librarian was +getting a miserly feeling about his books, as he called them. +Fortunately, he had a young lady for his assistant, who was never so +happy as when she could find the work any visitor wanted and put it in +his hands,--or her hands, for there were more readers among the wives +and--daughters, and especially among the aunts, than there were among +their male relatives. The old Librarian knew the books, but the books +seemed to know the young assistant; so it looked, at least, to the +impatient young people who wanted their services. + +Maurice had a good many volumes of his own,--a great many, according to +Paolo's account; but Paolo's ideas were limited, and a few well-filled +shelves seemed a very large collection to him. His master frequently +sent him to the Public Library for books, which somewhat enlarged his +notions; still, the Signor was a very learned man, he was certain, and +some of his white books (bound in vellum and richly gilt) were more +splendid, according to Paolo, than anything in the Library. + +There was no little curiosity to know what were the books that Maurice +was in the habit of taking out, and the Librarian's record was carefully +searched by some of the more inquisitive investigators. The list proved +to be a long and varied one. It would imply a considerable knowledge of +modern languages and of the classics; a liking for mathematics and +physics, especially all that related to electricity and magnetism; a +fancy for the occult sciences, if there is any propriety in coupling +these words; and a whim for odd and obsolete literature, like the +Parthenologia of Fortunius Licetus, the quaint treatise 'De +Sternutatione,' books about alchemy, and witchcraft, apparitions, and +modern works relating to Spiritualism. With these were the titles of +novels and now and then of books of poems; but it may be taken for +granted that his own shelves held the works he was most frequently in the +habit of reading or consulting. Not much was to be made out of this +beyond the fact of wide scholarship,--more or less deep it might be, but +at any rate implying no small mental activity; for he appeared to read +very rapidly, at any rate exchanged the books he had taken out for new +ones very frequently. To judge by his reading, he was a man of letters. +But so wide-reading a man of letters must have an object, a literary +purpose in all probability. Why should not he be writing a novel? Not a +novel of society, assuredly, for a hermit is not the person to report the +talk and manners of a world which he has nothing to do with. Novelists +and lawyers understand the art of "cramming" better than any other +persons in the world. Why should not this young man be working up the +picturesque in this romantic region to serve as a background for some +story with magic, perhaps, and mysticism, and hints borrowed from +science, and all sorts of out-of-the-way knowledge which his odd and +miscellaneous selection of books furnished him? That might be, or +possibly he was only reading for amusement. Who could say? + +The funds of the Public Library of Arrowhead Village allowed the managers +to purchase many books out of the common range of reading. The two +learned people of the village were the rector and the doctor. These two +worthies kept up the old controversy between the professions, which grows +out of the fact that one studies nature from below upwards, and the other +from above downwards. The rector maintained that physicians contracted a +squint which turns their eyes inwardly, while the muscles which roll +their eyes upward become palsied. The doctor retorted that theological +students developed a third eyelid,--the nictitating membrane, which is so +well known in birds, and which serves to shut out, not all light, but all +the light they do not want. Their little skirmishes did not prevent +their being very good friends, who had a common interest in many things +and many persons. Both were on the committee which had the care of the +Library and attended to the purchase of books. Each was scholar enough +to know the wants of scholars, and disposed to trust the judgment of the +other as to what books should be purchased. Consequently, the clergyman +secured the addition to the Library of a good many old theological works +which the physician would have called brimstone divinity, and held to be +just the thing to kindle fires with,--good books still for those who know +how to use them, oftentimes as awful examples of the extreme of +disorganization the whole moral system may undergo when a barbarous +belief has strangled the natural human instincts. The physician, in the +mean time, acquired for the collection some of those medical works where +one may find recorded various rare and almost incredible cases, which may +not have their like for a whole century, and then repeat themselves, so +as to give a new lease of credibility to stories which had come to be +looked upon as fables. + +Both the clergyman and the physician took a very natural interest in the +young man who had come to reside in their neighborhood for the present, +perhaps for a long period. The rector would have been glad to see him at +church. He would have liked more especially to have had him hear his +sermon on the Duties of Young Men to Society. The doctor, meanwhile, was +meditating on the duties of society to young men, and wishing that he +could gain the young man's confidence, so as to help him out of any false +habit of mind or any delusion to which he might be subject, if he had the +power of being useful to him. + +Dr. Butts was the leading medical practitioner, not only of Arrowhead +Village, but of all the surrounding region. He was an excellent specimen +of the country doctor, self-reliant, self-sacrificing, working a great +deal harder for his living than most of those who call themselves the +laboring classes,--as if none but those whose hands were hardened by the +use of farming or mechanical implements had any work to do. He had that +sagacity without which learning is a mere incumbrance, and he had also a +fair share of that learning without which sagacity is like a traveller +with a good horse, but who cannot read the directions on the guideboards. +He was not a man to be taken in by names. He well knew that oftentimes +very innocent-sounding words mean very grave disorders; that all, degrees +of disease and disorder are frequently confounded under the same term; +that "run down" may stand for a fatigue of mind or body from which a week +or a month of rest will completely restore the over-worked patient, or an +advanced stage of a mortal illness; that "seedy" may signify the +morning's state of feeling, after an evening's over-indulgence, which +calls for a glass of soda-water and a cup of coffee, or a dangerous +malady which will pack off the subject of it, at the shortest notice, to +the south of France. He knew too well that what is spoken lightly of as +a "nervous disturbance" may imply that the whole machinery of life is in +a deranged condition, and that every individual organ would groan aloud +if it had any other language than the terrible inarticulate one of pain +by which to communicate with the consciousness. + +When, therefore, Dr. Butts heard the word antipatia he did not smile, and +say to himself that this was an idle whim, a foolish fancy, which the +young man had got into his head. Neither was he satisfied to set down +everything to the account of insanity, plausible as that supposition +might seem. He was prepared to believe in some exceptional, perhaps +anomalous, form of exaggerated sensibility, relating to what class of +objects he could not at present conjecture, but which was as vital to the +subject of it as the insulating arrangement to a piece of electrical +machinery. With this feeling he began to look into the history of +antipathies as recorded in all the books and journals on which he could +lay his hands. + + ------------------------------ + +The holder of the Portfolio asks leave to close it for a brief interval. +He wishes to say a few words to his readers, before offering them some +verses which have no connection with the narrative now in progress. + +If one could have before him a set of photographs taken annually, +representing the same person as he or she appeared for thirty or forty or +fifty years, it would be interesting to watch the gradual changes of +aspect from the age of twenty, or even of thirty or forty, to that of +threescore and ten. The face might be an uninteresting one; still, as +sharing the inevitable changes wrought by time, it would be worth looking +at as it passed through the curve of life,--the vital parabola, which +betrays itself in the symbolic changes of the features. An inscription +is the same thing, whether we read it on slate-stone, or granite, or +marble. To watch the lights and shades, the reliefs and hollows, of a +countenance through a lifetime, or a large part of it, by the aid of a +continuous series of photographs would not only be curious; it would +teach us much more about the laws of physiognomy than we could get from +casual and unconnected observations. + +The same kind of interest, without any assumption of merit to be found in +them, I would claim for a series of annual poems, beginning in middle +life and continued to what many of my correspondents are pleased to +remind me--as if I required to have the fact brought to my knowledge--is +no longer youth. Here is the latest of a series of annual poems read +during the last thirty-four years. There seems to have been one +interruption, but there may have been other poems not recorded or +remembered. This, the latest poem of the series, was listened to by the +scanty remnant of what was a large and brilliant circle of classmates and +friends when the first of the long series was read before them, then in +the flush of ardent manhood:-- + + THE OLD SONG. + + The minstrel of the classic lay + Of love and wine who sings + Still found the fingers run astray + That touched the rebel strings. + + Of Cadmus he would fair have sung, + Of Atreus and his line; + But all the jocund echoes rung + With songs of love and wine. + + Ah, brothers! I would fair have caught + Some fresher fancy's gleam; + My truant accents find, unsought, + The old familiar theme. + + Love, Love! but not the sportive child + With shaft and twanging bow, + Whose random arrows drove us wild + Some threescore years ago; + + Not Eros, with his joyous laugh, + The urchin blind and bare, + But Love, with spectacles and staff, + And scanty, silvered hair. + + Our heads with frosted locks are white, + Our roofs are thatched with snow, + But red, in chilling winter's spite, + Our hearts and hearthstones glow. + + Our old acquaintance, Time, drops in, + And while the running sands + Their golden thread unheeded spin, + He warms his frozen hands. + + Stay, winged hours, too swift, too sweet, + And waft this message o'er + To all we miss, from all we meet + On life's fast-crumbling shore: + + Say that to old affection true + We hug the narrowing chain + That binds our hearts,--alas, how few + The links that yet remain! + + The fatal touch awaits them all + That turns the rocks to dust; + From year to year they break and fall, + They break, but never rust. + + Say if one note of happier strain + This worn-out harp afford, + --One throb that trembles, not in vain, + Their memory lent its chord. + + Say that when Fancy closed her wings + And Passion quenched his fire, + Love, Love, still echoed from the strings + As from Anacreon's lyre! + + January 8, 1885. + + + + +VII + +A RECORD OF ANTIPATHIES + +In thinking the whole matter over, Dr. Butts felt convinced that, with +care and patience and watching his opportunity, he should get at the +secret, which so far bad yielded nothing but a single word. It might be +asked why he was so anxious to learn what, from all appearances, the +young stranger was unwilling to explain. He may have been to some extent +infected by the general curiosity of the persons around him, in which +good Mrs. Butts shared, and which she had helped to intensify by +revealing the word dropped by Paolo. But this was not really his chief +motive. He could not look upon this young man, living a life of +unwholesome solitude, without a natural desire to do all that his science +and his knowledge of human nature could help him to do towards bringing +him into healthy relations with the world about him. Still, he would not +intrude upon him in any way. He would only make certain general +investigations, which might prove serviceable in case circumstances +should give him the right to counsel the young man as to his course of +life. The first thing to be done was to study systematically the whole +subject of antipathies. Then, if any further occasion offered itself, he +would be ready to take advantage of it. The resources of the Public +Library of the place and his own private collection were put in +requisition to furnish him the singular and widely scattered facts of +which he was in search. + +It is not every reader who will care to follow Dr. Butts in his study of +the natural history of antipathies. The stories told about them are, +however, very curious; and if some of them may be questioned, there is no +doubt that many of the strangest are true, and consequently take away +from the improbability of others which we are disposed to doubt. + +But in the first place, what do we mean by an antipathy? It is an +aversion to some object, which may vary in degree from mere dislike to +mortal horror. What the cause of this aversion is we cannot say. It acts +sometimes through the senses, sometimes through the imagination, +sometimes through an unknown channel. The relations which exist between +the human being and all that surrounds him vary in consequence of some +adjustment peculiar to each individual. The brute fact is expressed in +the phrase "One man's meat is another man's poison." + +In studying the history of antipathies the doctor began with those +referable to the sense of taste, which are among the most common. In any +collection of a hundred persons there will be found those who cannot make +use of certain articles of food generally acceptable. This may be from +the disgust they occasion or the effects they have been found to produce. +Every one knows individuals who cannot venture on honey, or cheese, or +veal, with impunity. Carlyle, for example, complains of having veal set +before him,--a meat he could not endure. There is a whole family +connection in New England, and that a very famous one, to many of whose +members, in different generations, all the products of the dairy are the +subjects of a congenital antipathy. Montaigne says there are persons who +dread the smell of apples more than they would dread being exposed to a +fire of musketry. The readers of the charming story "A Week in a French +Country-House" will remember poor Monsieur Jacque's piteous cry in the +night: "Ursula, art thou asleep? Oh, Ursula, thou sleepest, but I cannot +close my eyes. Dearest Ursula, there is such a dreadful smell! Oh, +Ursula, it is such a smell! I do so wish thou couldst smell it! +Good-night, my angel!----Dearest! I have found them! They are apples!" +The smell of roses, of peonies, of lilies, has been known to cause +faintness. The sight of various objects has had singular effects on some +persons. A boar's head was a favorite dish at the table of great people +in Marshal d'Albret's time; yet he used to faint at the sight of one. It +is not uncommon to meet with persons who faint at the sight of blood. +One of the most inveterately pugnacious of Dr. Butts's college-mates +confessed that he had this infirmity. Stranger and far more awkward than +this is the case mentioned in an ancient collection, where the subject of +the antipathy fainted at the sight of any object of a red color. There +are sounds, also, which have strange effects on some individuals. Among +the obnoxious noises are the crumpling of silk stuffs, the sound of +sweeping, the croaking of frogs. The effects in different cases have +been spasms, a sense of strangling, profuse sweating,--all showing a +profound disturbance of the nervous system. + +All these effects were produced by impressions on the organs of sense, +seemingly by direct agency on certain nerve centres. But there is +another series of cases in which the imagination plays a larger part in +the phenomena. Two notable examples are afforded in the lives of two +very distinguished personages. + +Peter the Great was frightened, when an infant, by falling from a bridge +into the water. Long afterward, when he had reached manhood, this hardy +and resolute man was so affected by the sound of wheels rattling over a +bridge that he had to discipline himself by listening to the sound, in +spite of his dread of it, in order to overcome his antipathy. The story +told by Abbe Boileau of Pascal is very similar to that related of Peter. +As he was driving in his coach and four over the bridge at Neuilly, his +horses took fright and ran away, and the leaders broke from their harness +and sprang into the river, leaving the wheel-horses and the carriage on +the bridge. Ever after this fright it is said that Pascal had the +terrifying sense that he was just on the edge of an abyss, ready to fall +over. + +What strange early impression was it which led a certain lady always to +shriek aloud if she ventured to enter a church, as it is recorded? The +old and simple way of accounting for it would be the scriptural one, that +it was an unclean spirit who dwelt in her, and who, when she entered the +holy place and brought her spiritual tenant into the presence of the +sacred symbols, "cried with a loud voice, and came out of" her. A very +singular case, the doctor himself had recorded, and which the reader may +accept as authentic, is the following: At the head of the doctor's front +stairs stood, and still stands, a tall clock, of early date and stately +presence. A middle-aged visitor, noticing it as he entered the front +door, remarked that he should feel a great unwillingness to pass that +clock. He could not go near one of those tall timepieces without a +profound agitation, which he dreaded to undergo. This very singular +idiosyncrasy he attributed to a fright when he was an infant in the arms +of his nurse. + +She was standing near one of those tall clocks, when the cord which +supported one of its heavy leaden weights broke, and the weight came +crashing down to the bottom of the case. Some effect must have been +produced upon the pulpy nerve centres from which they never recovered. +Why should not this happen, when we know that a sudden mental shock may +be the cause of insanity? The doctor remembered the verse of "The +Ancient Mariner:" + + "I moved my lips; the pilot shrieked + And fell down in a fit; + The holy hermit raised his eyes + And prayed where he did sit. + I took the oars; the pilot's boy, + Who now doth crazy go, + Laughed loud and long, and all the while + His eyes went to and fro." + +This is only poetry, it is true, but the poet borrowed the description +from nature, and the records of our asylums could furnish many cases +where insanity was caused by a sudden fright. + +More than this, hardly a year passes that we do not read of some person, +a child commonly, killed outright by terror,--scared to death, literally. +Sad cases they often are, in which, nothing but a surprise being +intended, the shock has instantly arrested the movements on which life +depends. If a mere instantaneous impression can produce effects like +these, such an impression might of course be followed by consequences +less fatal or formidable, but yet serious in their nature. If here and +there a person is killed, as if by lightning, by a sudden startling sight +or sound, there must be more numerous cases in which a terrible shock is +produced by similar apparently insignificant causes,--a shock which falls +short of overthrowing the reason and does not destroy life, yet leaves a +lasting effect upon the subject of it. + +This point, then, was settled in the mind of Dr. Butts, namely, that, as +a violent emotion caused by a sudden shock can kill or craze a human +being, there is no perversion of the faculties, no prejudice, no change +of taste or temper, no eccentricity, no antipathy, which such a cause may +not rationally account for. He would not be surprised, he said to +himself, to find that some early alarm, like that which was experienced +by Peter the Great or that which happened to Pascal, had broken some +spring in this young man's nature, or so changed its mode of action as to +account for the exceptional remoteness of his way of life. But how could +any conceivable antipathy be so comprehensive as to keep a young man +aloof from all the world, and make a hermit of him? He did not hate the +human race; that was clear enough. He treated Paolo with great kindness, +and the Italian was evidently much attached to him. He had talked +naturally and pleasantly with the young man he had helped out of his +dangerous situation when his boat was upset. Dr. Butts heard that he had +once made a short visit to this young man, at his rooms in the +University. It was not misanthropy, therefore, which kept him solitary. +What could be broad enough to cover the facts of the case? Nothing that +the doctor could think of, unless it were some color, the sight of which +acted on him as it did on the individual before mentioned, who could not +look at anything red without fainting. Suppose this were a case of the +same antipathy. How very careful it would make the subject of it as to +where he went and with whom he consorted! Time and patience would be +pretty sure to bring out new developments, and physicians, of all men in +the world, know how to wait as well as how to labor. + +Such were some of the crude facts as Dr. Butts found them in books or +gathered them from his own experience. He soon discovered that the story +had got about the village that Maurice Kirkwood was the victim of an +"antipathy," whatever that word might mean in the vocabulary of the +people of the place. If he suspected the channel through which it had +reached the little community, and, spreading from that centre, the +country round, he did not see fit to make out of his suspicions a +domestic casus belli. Paolo might have mentioned it to others as well as +to himself. Maurice might have told some friend, who had divulged it. +But to accuse Mrs. Butts, good Mrs. Butts, of petit treason in telling +one of her husband's professional secrets was too serious a matter to be +thought of. He would be a little more careful, he promised himself, the +next time, at any rate; for he had to concede, in spite of every wish to +be charitable in his judgment, that it was among the possibilities that +the worthy lady had forgotten the rule that a doctor's patients must put +their tongues out, and a doctor's wife must keep her tongue in. + + + + +VIII + +THE PANSOPHIAN SOCIETY. + +The Secretary of this association was getting somewhat tired of the +office, and the office was getting somewhat tired of him. It occurred to +the members of the Society that a little fresh blood infused into it +might stir up the general vitality of the organization. The woman +suffragists saw no reason why the place of Secretary need as a matter of +course be filled by a person of the male sex. They agitated, they made +domiciliary visits, they wrote notes to influential citizens, and finally +announced as their candidate the young lady who had won and worn the +school name of "The Terror," who was elected. She was just the person +for the place: wide awake, with all her wits about her, full of every +kind of knowledge, and, above all, strong on points of order and details +of management, so that she could prompt the presiding officer, to do +which is often the most essential duty of a Secretary. The President, +the worthy rector, was good at plain sailing in the track of the common +moralities and proprieties, but was liable to get muddled if anything +came up requiring swift decision and off-hand speech. The Terror had +schooled herself in the debating societies of the Institute, and would +set up the President, when he was floored by an awkward question, as +easily as if he were a ninepin which had been bowled over. + +It has been already mentioned that the Pansophian Society received +communications from time to time from writers outside of its own +organization. Of late these had been becoming more frequent. Many of +them were sent in anonymously, and as there were numerous visitors to the +village, and two institutions not far removed from it, both full of +ambitious and intelligent young persons, it was often impossible to trace +the papers to their authors. The new Secretary was alive with curiosity, +and as sagacious a little body as one might find if in want of a +detective. She could make a pretty shrewd guess whether a paper was +written by a young or old person, by one of her own sex or the other, by +an experienced hand or a novice. + +Among the anonymous papers she received was one which exercised her +curiosity to an extraordinary degree. She felt a strong suspicion that +"the Sachem," as the boat-crews used to call him, "the Recluse," "the +Night-Hawk," "the Sphinx," as others named him, must be the author of it. +It appeared to her the production of a young person of a reflective, +poetical turn of mind. It was not a woman's way of writing; at least, so +thought the Secretary. The writer had travelled much; had resided in +Italy, among other places. But so had many of the summer visitors and +residents of Arrowhead Village. The handwriting was not decisive; it had +some points of resemblance with the pencilled orders for books which +Maurice sent to the Library, but there were certain differences, +intentional or accidental, which weakened this evidence. There was an +undertone in the essay which was in keeping with the mode of life of the +solitary stranger. It might be disappointment, melancholy, or only the +dreamy sadness of a young person who sees the future he is to climb, not +as a smooth ascent, but as overhanging him like a cliff, ready to crush +him, with all his hopes and prospects. This interpretation may have been +too imaginative, but here is the paper, and the reader can form his own +opinion: + + MY THREE COMPANIONS. + +"I have been from my youth upwards a wanderer. I do not mean constantly +flitting from one place to another, for my residence has often been fixed +for considerable periods. From time to time I have put down in a +notebook the impressions made upon me by the scenes through which I have +passed. I have long hesitated whether to let any of my notes appear +before the public. My fear has been that they were too subjective, to +use the metaphysician's term,--that I have seen myself reflected in +Nature, and not the true aspects of Nature as she was meant to be +understood. One who should visit the Harz Mountains would see--might +see, rather his own colossal image shape itself on the morning mist. But +if in every mist that rises from the meadows, in every cloud that hangs +upon the mountain, he always finds his own reflection, we cannot accept +him as an interpreter of the landscape. + +"There must be many persons present at the meetings of the Society to +which this paper is offered who have had experiences like that of its +author. They have visited the same localities, they have had many of the +same thoughts and feelings. Many, I have no doubt. Not all,--no, not +all. Others have sought the companionship of Nature; I have been driven +to it. Much of my life has been passed in that communion. These pages +record some of the intimacies I have formed with her under some of her +various manifestations. + +"I have lived on the shore of the great ocean, where its waves broke +wildest and its voice rose loudest. + +"I have passed whole seasons on the banks of mighty and famous rivers. + +"I have dwelt on the margin of a tranquil lake, and floated through many +a long, long summer day on its clear waters. + +"I have learned the 'various language' of Nature, of which poetry has +spoken,--at least, I have learned some words and phrases of it. I will +translate some of these as I best may into common speech. + +"The OCEAN says to the dweller on its shores:-- + +"You are neither welcome nor unwelcome. I do not trouble myself with the +living tribes that come down to my waters. I have my own people, of an +older race than yours, that grow to mightier dimensions than your +mastodons and elephants; more numerous than all the swarms that fill the +air or move over the thin crust of the earth. Who are you that build +your palaces on my margin? I see your white faces as I saw the dark +faces of the tribes that came before you, as I shall look upon the +unknown family of mankind that will come after you. And what is your +whole human family but a parenthesis in a single page of my history? The +raindrops stereotyped themselves on my beaches before a living creature +left his footprints there. This horseshoe-crab I fling at your feet is +of older lineage than your Adam,--perhaps, indeed, you count your Adam as +one of his descendants. What feeling have I for you? Not scorn, not +hatred,--not love,--not loathing. No!---indifference,--blank +indifference to you and your affairs that is my feeling, say rather +absence of feeling, as regards you.---Oh yes, I will lap your feet, I +will cool you in the hot summer days, I will bear you up in my strong +arms, I will rock you on my rolling undulations, like a babe in his +cradle. Am I not gentle? Am I not kind? Am I not harmless? But hark! +The wind is rising, and the wind and I are rough playmates! What do you +say to my voice now? Do you see my foaming lips? Do you feel the rocks +tremble as my huge billows crash against them? Is not my anger terrible +as I dash your argosy, your thunder-bearing frigate, into fragments, as +you would crack an eggshell?--No, not anger; deaf, blind, unheeding +indifference,--that is all. Out of me all things arose; sooner or later, +into me all things subside. All changes around me; I change not. I look +not at you, vain man, and your frail transitory concerns, save in +momentary glimpses: I look on the white face of my dead mistress, whom I +follow as the bridegroom follows the bier of her who has changed her +nuptial raiment for the shroud. + +"Ye whose thoughts are of eternity, come dwell at my side. Continents and +islands grow old, and waste and disappear. The hardest rock crumbles; +vegetable and animal kingdoms come into being, wax great, decline, and +perish, to give way to others, even as human dynasties and nations and +races come and go. Look on me! "Time writes no wrinkle" on my forehead. +Listen to me! All tongues are spoken on my shores, but I have only one +language: the winds taught me their vowels the crags and the sands +schooled me in my rough or smooth consonants. Few words are mine but I +have whispered them and sung them and shouted them to men of all tribes +from the time when the first wild wanderer strayed into my awful +presence. Have you a grief that gnaws at your heart-strings? Come with +it to my shore, as of old the priest of far-darting Apollo carried his +rage and anguish to the margin of the loud-roaring sea. There, if +anywhere you will forget your private and short-lived woe, for my voice +speaks to the infinite and the eternal in your consciousness. + +"To him who loves the pages of human history, who listens to the voices +of the world about him, who frequents the market and the thoroughfare, +who lives in the study of time and its accidents rather than in the +deeper emotions, in abstract speculation and spiritual contemplation, the +RIVER addresses itself as his natural companion. + +"Come live with me. I am active, cheerful, communicative, a natural +talker and story-teller. I am not noisy, like the ocean, except +occasionally when I am rudely interrupted, or when I stumble and get a +fall. When I am silent you can still have pleasure in watching my +changing features. My idlest babble, when I am toying with the trifles +that fall in my way, if not very full of meaning, is at least musical. I +am not a dangerous friend, like the ocean; no highway is absolutely safe, +but my nature is harmless, and the storms that strew the beaches with +wrecks cast no ruins upon my flowery borders. Abide with me, and you +shall not die of thirst, like the forlorn wretches left to the mercies of +the pitiless salt waves. Trust yourself to me, and I will carry you far +on your journey, if we are travelling to the same point of the compass. +If I sometimes run riot and overflow your meadows, I leave fertility +behind me when I withdraw to my natural channel. Walk by my side toward +the place of my destination. I will keep pace with you, and you shall +feel my presence with you as that of a self-conscious being like +yourself. You will find it hard to be miserable in my company; I drain +you of ill-conditioned thoughts as I carry away the refuse of your +dwelling and its grounds." + +But to him whom the ocean chills and crushes with its sullen +indifference, and the river disturbs with its never-pausing and +never-ending story, the silent LAKE shall be a refuge and a place of rest +for his soul. + +"'Vex not yourself with thoughts too vast for your limited faculties,' it +says; 'yield not yourself to the babble of the running stream. Leave the +ocean, which cares nothing for you or any living thing that walks the +solid earth; leave the river, too busy with its own errand, too talkative +about its own affairs, and find peace with me, whose smile will cheer +you, whose whisper will soothe you. Come to me when the morning sun +blazes across my bosom like a golden baldric; come to me in the still +midnight, when I hold the inverted firmament like a cup brimming with +jewels, nor spill one star of all the constellations that float in my +ebon goblet. Do you know the charm of melancholy? Where will you find a +sympathy like mine in your hours of sadness? Does the ocean share your +grief? Does the river listen to your sighs? The salt wave, that called +to you from under last month's full moon, to-day is dashing on the rocks +of Labrador; the stream, that ran by you pure and sparkling, has +swallowed the poisonous refuse of a great city, and is creeping to its +grave in the wide cemetery that buries all things in its tomb of liquid +crystal. It is true that my waters exhale and are renewed from one +season to another; but are your features the same, absolutely the same, +from year to year? We both change, but we know each other through all +changes. Am I not mirrored in those eyes of yours? And does not Nature +plant me as an eye to behold her beauties while she is dressed in the +glories of leaf and flower, and draw the icy lid over my shining surface +when she stands naked and ashamed in the poverty of winter?' + +"I have had strange experiences and sad thoughts in the course of a life +not very long, but with a record which much longer lives could not match +in incident. Oftentimes the temptation has come over me with dangerous +urgency to try a change of existence, if such change is a part of human +destiny,--to seek rest, if that is what we gain by laying down the burden +of life. I have asked who would be the friend to whom I should appeal +for the last service I should have need of. Ocean was there, all ready, +asking no questions, answering none. What strange voyages, downward +through its glaucous depths, upwards to its boiling and frothing surface, +wafted by tides, driven by tempests, disparted by rude agencies; one +remnant whitening on the sands of a northern beach, one perhaps built +into the circle of a coral reef in the Pacific, one settling to the floor +of the vast laboratory where continents are built, to emerge in far-off +ages! What strange companions for my pall-bearers! Unwieldy +sea-monsters, the stories of which are counted fables by the spectacled +collectors who think their catalogues have exhausted nature; naked-eyed +creatures, staring, glaring, nightmare-like spectres of the ghastly-green +abysses; pulpy islands, with life in gelatinous immensity,--what a +company of hungry heirs at every ocean funeral! No! No! Ocean claims +great multitudes, but does not invite the solitary who would fain be rid +of himself. + +"Shall I seek a deeper slumber at the bottom of the lake I love than I +have ever found when drifting idly over its surface? No, again. I do +not want the sweet, clear waters to know me in the disgrace of nature, +when life, the faithful body-servant, has ceased caring for me. That +must not be. The mirror which has pictured me so often shall never know +me as an unwelcome object. + +"If I must ask the all-subduing element to be my last friend, and lead me +out of my prison, it shall be the busy, whispering, not unfriendly, +pleasantly companionable river. + +"But Ocean and River and Lake have certain relations to the periods of +human life which they who are choosing their places of abode should +consider. Let the child play upon the seashore. The wide horizon gives +his imagination room to grow in, untrammelled. That background of +mystery, without which life is a poor mechanical arrangement, is shaped +and colored, so far as it can have outline, or any hue but shadow, on a +vast canvas, the contemplation of which enlarges and enriches the sphere +of consciousness. The mighty ocean is not too huge to symbolize the +aspirations and ambitions of the yet untried soul of the adolescent. + +"The time will come when his indefinite mental horizon has found a solid +limit, which shuts his prospect in narrower bounds than he would have +thought could content him in the years of undefined possibilities. Then +he will find the river a more natural intimate than the ocean. It is +individual, which the ocean, with all its gulfs and inlets and +multitudinous shores, hardly seems to be. It does not love you very +dearly, and will not miss you much when you disappear from its margin; +but it means well to you, bids you good-morning with its coming waves, +and good-evening with those which are leaving. It will lead your +thoughts pleasantly away, upwards to its source, downwards to the stream +to which it is tributary, or the wide waters in which it is to lose +itself. A river, by choice, to live by in middle age. + +"In hours of melancholy reflection, in those last years of life which +have little left but tender memories, the still companionship of the +lake, embosomed in woods, sheltered, fed by sweet mountain brooks and +hidden springs, commends itself to the wearied and saddened spirit. I am +not thinking of those great inland seas, which have many of the features +and much of the danger that belong to the ocean, but of those 'ponds,' as +our countrymen used to call them until they were rechristened by summer +visitors; beautiful sheets of water from a hundred to a few thousand +acres in extent, scattered like raindrops over the map of our Northern +sovereignties. The loneliness of contemplative old age finds its natural +home in the near neighborhood of one of these tranquil basins." + +Nature does not always plant her poets where they belong, but if we look +carefully their affinities betray themselves. The youth will carry his +Byron to the rock which overlooks the ocean the poet loved so well. The +man of maturer years will remember that the sonorous couplets of Pope +which ring in his ears were written on the banks of the Thames. The old +man, as he nods over the solemn verse of Wordsworth, will recognize the +affinity between the singer and the calm sheet that lay before him as he +wrote,--the stainless and sleepy Windermere. + +"The dwellers by Cedar Lake may find it an amusement to compare their own +feelings with those of one who has lived by the Atlantic and the +Mediterranean, by the Nile and the Tiber, by Lake Leman and by one of the +fairest sheets of water that our own North America embosoms in its +forests." + +Miss Lurida Vincent, Secretary of the Pansophian Society, read this +paper, and pondered long upon it. She was thinking very seriously of +studying medicine, and had been for some time in frequent communication +with Dr. Butts, under whose direction she had begun reading certain +treatises, which added to such knowledge of the laws of life in health +and in disease as she had brought with her from the Corinna Institute. +Naturally enough, she carried the anonymous paper to the doctor, to get +his opinion about it, and compare it with her own. They both agreed that +it was probably, they would not say certainly, the work of the solitary +visitor. There was room for doubt, for there were visitors who might +well have travelled to all the places mentioned, and resided long enough +on the shores of the waters the writer spoke of to have had all the +experiences mentioned in the paper. The Terror remembered a young lady, +a former schoolmate, who belonged to one of those nomadic families common +in this generation, the heads of which, especially the female heads, can +never be easy where they are, but keep going between America and Europe, +like so many pith-balls in the electrical experiment, alternately +attracted and repelled, never in contented equilibrium. Every few years +they pull their families up by the roots, and by the time they have begun +to take hold a little with their radicles in the spots to which they have +been successively transplanted up they come again, so that they never get +a tap-root anywhere. The Terror suspected the daughter of one of these +families of sending certain anonymous articles of not dissimilar +character to the one she had just received. But she knew the style of +composition common among the young girls, and she could hardly believe +that it was one of them who had sent this paper. Could a brother of this +young lady have written it? Possibly; she knew nothing more than that +the young lady had a brother, then a student at the University. All the +chances were that Mr. Maurice Kirkwood was the author. So thought +Lurida, and so thought Dr. Butts. + +Whatever faults there were in this essay, it interested them both. There +was nothing which gave the least reason to suspect insanity on the part +of the writer, whoever he or she might be. There were references to +suicide, it is true, but they were of a purely speculative nature, and +did not look to any practical purpose in that direction. Besides, if the +stranger were the author of the paper, he certainly would not choose a +sheet of water like Cedar Lake to perform the last offices for him, in +case he seriously meditated taking unceremonious leave of life and its +accidents. He could find a river easily enough, to say nothing of other +methods of effecting his purpose; but he had committed himself as to the +impropriety of selecting a lake, so they need not be anxious about the +white canoe and its occupant, as they watched it skimming the surface of +the deep waters. + +The holder of the Portfolio would never have ventured to come before the +public if he had not counted among his resources certain papers belonging +to the records of the Pansophian Society, which he can make free use of, +either for the illustration of the narrative, or for a diversion during +those intervals in which the flow of events is languid, or even ceases +for the time to manifest any progress. The reader can hardly have failed +to notice that the old Anchor Tavern had become the focal point where a +good deal of mental activity converged. There were the village people, +including a number of cultivated families; there were the visitors, among +them many accomplished and widely travelled persons; there was the +University, with its learned teachers and aspiring young men; there was +the Corinna Institute, with its eager, ambitious, hungry-souled young +women, crowding on, class after class coming forward on the broad stream +of liberal culture, and rounding the point which, once passed, the +boundless possibilities of womanhood opened before them. All this +furnished material enough and to spare for the records and the archives +of the society. + +The new Secretary infused fresh life into the meetings. It may be +remembered that the girls had said of her, when she was The Terror, that +"she knew everything and didn't believe anything." That was just the +kind of person for a secretary of such an association. Properly +interpreted, the saying meant that she knew a great deal, and wanted to +know a great deal more, and was consequently always on the lookout for +information; that she believed nothing without sufficient proof that it +was true, and therefore was perpetually asking for evidence where, others +took assertions on trust. + +It was astonishing to see what one little creature like The Terror could +accomplish in the course of a single season. She found out what each +member could do and wanted to do. She wrote to the outside visitors whom +she suspected of capacity, and urged them to speak at the meetings, or +send written papers to be read. As an official, with the printed title +at the head of her notes, PANSOPHIAN SOCIETY, she was a privileged +personage. She begged the young persons who had travelled to tell +something of their experiences. She had contemplated getting up a +discussion on the woman's rights question, but being a wary little body, +and knowing that the debate would become a dispute and divide the members +into two hostile camps, she deferred this project indefinitely. It would +be time enough after she had her team well in hand, she said to +herself,--had felt their mouths and tried their paces. This expression, +as she used it in her thoughts, seems rather foreign to her habits, but +there was room in her large brain for a wide range of illustrations and +an ample vocabulary. She could not do much with her own muscles, but she +had known the passionate delight of being whirled furiously over the road +behind four scampering horses, in a rocking stage-coach, and thought of +herself in the Secretary's chair as not unlike the driver on his box. A +few weeks of rest had allowed her nervous energy to store itself up, and +the same powers which had distanced competition in the classes of her +school had of necessity to expend themselves in vigorous action in her +new office. + +Her appeals had their effect. A number of papers were very soon sent in; +some with names, some anonymously. She looked these papers over, and +marked those which she thought would be worth reading and listening to at +the meetings. One of them has just been presented to the reader. As to +the authorship of the following one there were many conjectures. A +well-known writer, who had spent some weeks at Arrowhead Village, was +generally suspected of being its author. Some, however, questioned +whether it was not the work of a new hand, who wrote, not from +experience, but from his or her ideas of the condition to which a +story-teller, a novelist, must in all probability be sooner or later +reduced. The reader must judge for himself whether this first paper is +the work of an old hand or a novice. + + SOME EXPERIENCES OF A NOVELIST. + +"I have written a frightful number of stories, forty or more, I think. +Let me see. For twelve years two novels a year regularly: that makes +twenty-four. In three different years I have written three +stories annually: that makes thirty-three. In five years one a +year,--thirty-eight. That is all, is n't it? Yes. Thirty-eight, not +forty. I wish I could make them all into one composite story, as Mr. +Galton does his faces. + +"Hero--heroine--mamma--papa--uncle--sister, and so on. Love +--obstacles--misery--tears--despair--glimmer of hope--unexpected solution +of difficulties--happy finale. + +"Landscape for background according to season. Plants of each month got +up from botanical calendars. + +"I should like much to see the composite novel. Why not apply Mr. +Galton's process, and get thirty-eight stories all in one? All the +Yankees would resolve into one Yankee, all the P----West Britons into one +Patrick, etc., what a saving of time it would be! + +"I got along pretty well with my first few stories. I had some +characters around me which, a little disguised, answered well enough. +There was the minister of the parish, and there was an old schoolmaster +either of them served very satisfactorily for grandfathers and old +uncles. All I had to do was to shift some of their leading +peculiarities, keeping the rest. The old minister wore knee-breeches. I +clapped them on to the schoolmaster. The schoolmaster carried a tall +gold-headed cane. I put this in the minister's hands. So with other +things,--I shifted them round, and got a set of characters who, taken +together, reproduced the chief persons of the village where I lived, but +did not copy any individual exactly. Thus it went on for a while; but by +and by my stock company began to be rather too familiarly known, in spite +of their change of costume, and at last some altogether too sagacious +person published what he called a 'key' to several of my earlier stories, +in which I found the names of a number of neighbors attached to aliases +of my own invention. All the 'types,' as he called them, represented by +these personages of my story had come to be recognized, each as standing +for one and the same individual of my acquaintance. It had been of no +use to change the costume. Even changing the sex did no good. I had a +famous old gossip in one of my tales,--a much-babbling Widow Sertingly. +'Sho!' they all said, that 's old Deacon Spinner, the same he told about +in that other story of his,--only the deacon's got on a petticoat and a +mob-cap,--but it's the same old sixpence.' So I said to myself, I must +have some new characters. I had no trouble with young characters; they +are all pretty much alike,--dark-haired or light-haired, with the outfits +belonging to their complexion, respectively. I had an old great-aunt, +who was a tip-top eccentric. I had never seen anything just like her in +books. So I said, I will have you, old lady, in one of my stories; and, +sure enough, I fitted her out with a first-rate odd-sounding name, which +I got from the directory, and sent her forth to the world, disguised, as +I supposed, beyond the possibility of recognition. The book sold well, +and the eccentric personage was voted a novelty. A few weeks after it +was published a lawyer called upon me, as the agent of the person in the +directory, whose family name I had used, as he maintained, to his and all +his relatives' great damage, wrong, loss, grief, shame, and irreparable +injury, for which the sum of blank thousand dollars would be a modest +compensation. The story made the book sell, but not enough to pay blank +thousand dollars. In the mean time a cousin of mine had sniffed out the +resemblance between the character in my book and our great-aunt. We were +rivals in her good graces. 'Cousin Pansie' spoke to her of my book and +the trouble it was bringing on me,--she was so sorry about it! She liked +my story,--only those personalities, you know. 'What personalities?' +says old granny-aunt. 'Why, auntie, dear, they do say that he has +brought in everybody we know,--did n't anybody tell you about--well,--I +suppose you ought to know it,--did n't anybody tell you you were made fun +of in that novel?' Somebody--no matter who--happened to hear all this, +and told me. She said granny-aunt's withered old face had two red spots +come to it, as if she had been painting her cheeks from a pink saucer. +No, she said, not a pink saucer, but as if they were two coals of fire. +She sent out and got the book, and made her (the somebody that I was +speaking of) read it to her. When she had heard as much as she could +stand,--for 'Cousin Pansie' explained passages to her,--explained, you +know,--she sent for her lawyer, and that same somebody had to be a +witness to a new will she had drawn up. It was not to my advantage. +'Cousin Pansie' got the corner lot where the grocery is, and pretty much +everything else. The old woman left me a legacy. What do you think it +was? An old set of my own books, that looked as if it had been bought +out of a bankrupt circulating library. + +"After that I grew more careful. I studied my disguises much more +diligently. But after all, what could I do? Here I was, writing stories +for my living and my reputation. I made a pretty sum enough, and worked +hard enough to earn it. No tale, no money. Then every story that went +from my workshop had to come up to the standard of my reputation, and +there was a set of critics,--there is a set of critics now and +everywhere,--that watch as narrowly for the decline of a man's reputation +as ever a village half drowned out by an inundation watched for the +falling of the waters. The fame I had won, such as it was, seemed to +attend me,--not going before me in the shape of a woman with a trumpet, +but rather following me like one of Actaeon's hounds, his throat open, +ready to pull me down and tear me. What a fierce enemy is that which bays +behind us in the voice of our proudest bygone achievement! + +"But, as I said above, what could I do? I must write novels, and I must +have characters. 'Then why not invent them?' asks some novice. Oh, yes! +Invent them! You can invent a human being that in certain aspects of +humanity will answer every purpose for which your invention was intended. +A basket of straw, an old coat and pair of breeches, a hat which has been +soaked, sat upon, stuffed a broken window, and had a brood of chickens +raised in it,--these elements, duly adjusted to each other, will +represent humanity so truthfully that the crows will avoid the cornfield +when your scarecrow displays his personality. Do you think you can make +your heroes and heroines,--nay, even your scrappy supernumeraries,--out +of refuse material, as you made your scarecrow? You can't do it. You +must study living people and reproduce them. And whom do you know so +well as your friends? You will show up your friends, then, one after +another. When your friends give out, who is left for you? Why, nobody +but your own family, of course. When you have used up your family, there +is nothing left for you but to write your autobiography. + +"After my experience with my grand-aunt, I be came more cautious, very +naturally. I kept traits of character, but I mixed ages as well as +sexes. In this way I continued to use up a large amount of material, +which looked as if it were as dangerous as dynamite to meddle with. Who +would have expected to meet my maternal uncle in the guise of a +schoolboy? Yet I managed to decant his characteristics as nicely as the +old gentleman would have decanted a bottle of Juno Madeira through that +long siphon which he always used when the most sacred vintages were +summoned from their crypts to render an account of themselves on his +hospitable board. It was a nice business, I confess, but I did it, and I +drink cheerfully to that good uncle's memory in a glass of wine from his +own cellar, which, with many other more important tokens of his good +will, I call my own since his lamented demise. + +"I succeeded so well with my uncle that I thought I would try a course of +cousins. I had enough of them to furnish out a whole gallery of +portraits. There was cousin 'Creeshy,' as we called her; Lucretia, more +correctly. She was a cripple. Her left lower limb had had something +happen to it, and she walked with a crutch. Her patience under her trial +was very pathetic and picturesque, so to speak,--I mean adapted to the +tender parts of a story; nothing could work up better in a melting +paragraph. But I could not, of course, describe her particular +infirmity; that would point her out at once. I thought of shifting the +lameness to the right lower limb, but even that would be seen through. +So I gave the young woman that stood for her in my story a lame elbow, +and put her arm in a sling, and made her such a model of uncomplaining +endurance that my grandmother cried over her as if her poor old heart +would break. She cried very easily, my grandmother; in fact, she had +such a gift for tears that I availed myself of it, and if you remember +old Judy, in my novel "Honi Soit" (Honey Sweet, the booksellers called +it),--old Judy, the black-nurse,--that was my grandmother. She had +various other peculiarities, which I brought out one by one, and saddled +on to different characters. You see she was a perfect mine of +singularities and idiosyncrasies. After I had used her up pretty well, I +came dawn upon my poor relations. They were perfectly fair game; what +better use could I put them to? I studied them up very carefully, and as +there were a good many of them I helped myself freely. They lasted me, +with occasional intermissions, I should say, three or four years. I had +to be very careful with my poor relations,--they were as touchy as they +could be; and as I felt bound to send a copy of my novel, whatever it +might be, to each one of them,--there were as many as a dozen,--I took +care to mix their characteristic features, so that, though each might +suspect I meant the other, no one should think I meant him or her. I got +through all my relations at last except my father and mother. I had +treated my brothers and sisters pretty fairly, all except Elisha and +Joanna. The truth is they both had lots of odd ways,--family traits, I +suppose, but were just different enough from each other to figure +separately in two different stories. These two novels made me some +little trouble; for Elisha said he felt sure that I meant Joanna in one +of them, and quarrelled with me about it; and Joanna vowed and declared +that Elnathan, in the other, stood for brother 'Lisha, and that it was a +real mean thing to make fun of folks' own flesh and blood, and treated me +to one of her cries. She was n't handsome when she cried, poor, dear +Joanna; in fact, that was one of the personal traits I had made use of in +the story that Elisha found fault with. + +"So as there was nobody left but my father and mother, you see for +yourself I had no choice. There was one great advantage in dealing with +them,--I knew them so thoroughly. One naturally feels a certain delicacy +it handling from a purely artistic point of view persons who have been so +near to him. One's mother, for instance: suppose some of her little ways +were so peculiar that the accurate delineation of them would furnish +amusement to great numbers of readers; it would not be without hesitation +that a writer of delicate sensibility would draw her portrait, with all +its whimsicalities, so plainly that it should be generally recognized. +One's father is commonly of tougher fibre than one's mother, and one +would not feel the same scruples, perhaps, in using him professionally as +material in a novel; still, while you are employing him as bait,--you see +I am honest and plain-spoken, for your characters are baits to catch +readers with,--I would follow kind Izaak Walton's humane counsel about +the frog you are fastening to your fish-hook: fix him artistically, as he +directs, but in so doing I use him as though you loved him.' + +"I have at length shown up, in one form and another, all my townsmen who +have anything effective in their bodily or mental make-up, all my +friends, all my relatives; that is, all my blood relatives. It has +occurred to me that I might open a new field in the family connection of +my father-in-law and mother-in-law. We have been thinking of paying them +a visit, and I shall have an admirable opportunity of studying them and +their relatives and visitors. I have long wanted a good chance for +getting acquainted with the social sphere several grades below that to +which I am accustomed, and I have no doubt that I shall find matter for +half a dozen new stories among those connections of mine. Besides, they +live in a Western city, and one doesn't mind much how he cuts up the +people of places he does n't himself live in. I suppose there is not +really so much difference in people's feelings, whether they live in +Bangor or Omaha, but one's nerves can't be expected to stretch across the +continent. It is all a matter of greater or less distance. I read this +morning that a Chinese fleet was sunk, but I did n't think half so much +about it as I did about losing my sleeve button, confound it! People +have accused me of want of feeling; they misunderstand the artist-nature, +--that is all. I obey that implicitly; I am sorry if people don't like +my descriptions, but I have done my best. I have pulled to pieces all +the persons I am acquainted with, and put them together again in my +characters. The quills I write with come from live geese, I would have +you know. I expect to get some first-rate pluckings from those people I +was speaking of, and I mean to begin my thirty-ninth novel as soon as I +have got through my visit." + + + + +IX + +THE SOCIETY AND ITS NEW SECRETARY. + +There is no use in trying to hurry the natural course of events, in a +narrative like this. June passed away, and July, and August had come, +and as yet the enigma which had completely puzzled Arrowhead Village and +its visitors remained unsolved. The white canoe still wandered over the +lake, alone, ghostly, always avoiding the near approach of the boats +which seemed to be coming in its direction. Now and then a circumstance +would happen which helped to keep inquiry alive. Good horsemanship was +not so common among the young men of the place and its neighborhood that +Maurice's accomplishment in that way could be overlooked. If there was a +wicked horse or a wild colt whose owner was afraid of him, he would be +commended to Maurice's attention. Paolo would lead him to his master +with all due precaution,--for he had no idea of risking his neck on the +back of any ill-conditioned beast,--and Maurice would fasten on his long +spurs, spring into the saddle, and very speedily teach the creature good +behavior. There soon got about a story that he was what the fresh-water +fisherman called "one o' them whisperers." It is a common legend enough, +coming from the Old World, but known in American horse-talking circles, +that some persons will whisper certain words in a horse's ear which will +tame him if he is as wild and furious as ever Cruiser was. All this +added to the mystery which surrounded the young man. A single improbable +or absurd story amounts to very little, but when half a dozen such +stories are told about the same individual or the same event, they begin +to produce the effect of credible evidence. If the year had been 1692 +and the place had been Salem Village, Maurice Kirkwood would have run the +risk of being treated like the Reverend George Burroughs. + +Miss Lurida Vincent's curiosity had been intensely excited with reference +to the young man of whom so many stories were told. She had pretty +nearly convinced herself that he was the author of the paper on Ocean, +Lake, and River, which had been read at one of the meetings of the +Pansophian Society. She was very desirous of meeting him, if it were +possible. It seemed as if she might, as Secretary of the Society, +request the cooperation of any of the visitors, without impropriety. So, +after much deliberation, she wrote a careful note, of which the following +is an exact copy. Her hand was bold, almost masculine, a curious +contrast to that of Euthymia, which was delicately feminine. +PANSOPHIAN SOCIETY. + +ARROWHEAD VILLAGE, August 3, 18-. +MAURICE KIRKWOOD, ESQ. + +DEAR SIR,--You have received, I trust, a card of invitation to the +meetings of our Society, but I think we have not yet had the pleasure of +seeing you at any of them. We have supposed that we might be indebted to +you for a paper read at the last meeting, and listened to with much +interest. As it was anonymous, we do not wish to be inquisitive +respecting its authorship; but we desire to say that any papers kindly +sent us by the temporary residents of our village will be welcome, and if +adapted to the wants of our Association will be read at one of its +meetings or printed in its records, or perhaps both read and printed. +May we not hope for your presence at the meeting, which is to take place +next Wednesday evening? Respectfully yours, + +LURIDA VINCENT, Secretary of the Pansophian Society. + +To this note the Secretary received the following reply: +MISS LURIDA VINCENT, + +ARROWHEAD VILLAGE, August 4, 18-. + +Secretary of the Pansophian Society: + +DEAR MISS VINCENT,--I have received the ticket you refer to, and desire +to express my acknowledgments for the polite attention. I regret that I +have not been and I fear shall not be able to attend the meetings of the +Society; but if any subject occurs to me on which I feel an inclination +to write, it will give me pleasure to send a paper, to be disposed of as +the Society may see fit. + +Very respectfully yours, +MAURICE KIRKWOOD. + +"He says nothing about the authorship of the paper that was read the +other evening," the Secretary said to herself. "No matter,--he wrote +it,--there is no mistaking his handwriting. We know something about him, +now, at any rate. But why doesn't he come to our meetings? What has his +antipathy to do with his staying away? I must find out what his secret +is, and I will. I don't believe it's harder than it was to solve that +prize problem which puzzled so many teachers, or than beating Crakowitz, +the great chess-player." + +To this enigma, then, The Terror determined to bend all the faculties +which had excited the admiration and sometimes the amazement of those who +knew her in her school-days. It was a very delicate piece of business; +for though Lurida was an intrepid woman's rights advocate, and believed +she was entitled to do almost everything that men dared to, she knew very +well there were certain limits which a young woman like herself must not +pass. + +In the mean time Maurice had received a visit from the young student at +the University,--the same whom he had rescued from his dangerous +predicament in the lake. With him had called one of the teachers,--an +instructor in modern languages, a native of Italy. Maurice and the +instructor exchanged a few words in Italian. The young man spoke it with +the ease which implied long familiarity with its use. + +After they left, the instructor asked many curious questions about +him,--who he was, how long he had been in the village, whether anything +was known of his history,--all these inquiries with an eagerness which +implied some special and peculiar reason for the interest they evinced. + +"I feel satisfied," the instructor said, "that I have met that young man +in my own country. It was a number of years ago, and of course he has +altered in appearance a good deal; but there is a look about him of--what +shall I call it?---apprehension,--as if he were fearing the approach of +something or somebody. I think it is the way a man would look that was +haunted; you know what I mean,--followed by a spirit or ghost. He does +not suggest the idea of a murderer,--very far from it; but if he did, I +should think he was every minute in fear of seeing the murdered man's +spirit." + +The student was curious, in his turn, to know all the instructor could +recall. He had seen him in Rome, he thought, at the Fountain of Trevi, +where so many strangers go before leaving the city. The youth was in the +company of a man who looked like a priest. He could not mistake the +peculiar expression of his countenance, but that was all he now +remembered about his appearance. His attention had been called to this +young man by seeing that some of the bystanders were pointing at him, and +noticing that they were whispering with each other as if with reference +to him. He should say that the youth was at that time fifteen or sixteen +years old, and the time was about ten years ago. + +After all, this evidence was of little or no value. Suppose the youth +were Maurice; what then? We know that he had been in Italy, and had been +there a good while,--or at least we infer so much from his familiarity +with the language, and are confirmed in the belief by his having an +Italian servant, whom he probably brought from Italy when he returned. +If he wrote the paper which was read the other evening, that settles it, +for the writer says he had lived by the Tiber. We must put this scrap of +evidence furnished by the Professor with the other scraps; it may turn +out of some consequence, sooner or later. It is like a piece of a +dissected map; it means almost nothing by itself, but when we find the +pieces it joins with we may discover a very important meaning in it. + +In a small, concentrated community like that which centred in and +immediately around Arrowhead Village, every day must have its local +gossip as well as its general news. The newspaper tells the small +community what is going on in the great world, and the busy tongues of +male and female, especially the latter, fill in with the occurrences and +comments of the ever-stirring microcosm. The fact that the Italian +teacher had, or thought he had, seen Maurice ten years before was +circulated and made the most of,--turned over and over like a cake, until +it was thoroughly done on both sides and all through. It was a very +small cake, but better than nothing. Miss Vincent heard this story, as +others did, and talked about it with her friend, Miss Tower. Here was +one more fact to help along. + +The two young ladies who had recently graduated at the Corinna Institute +remained, as they had always been, intimate friends. They were the +natural complements of each other. Euthymia represented a complete, +symmetrical womanhood. Her outward presence was only an index of a +large, wholesome, affluent life. She could not help being courageous, +with such a firm organization. She could not help being generous, +cheerful, active. She had been told often enough that she was fair to +look upon. She knew that she was called The Wonder by the schoolmates +who were dazzled by her singular accomplishments, but she did not +overvalue them. She rather tended to depreciate her own gifts, in +comparison with those of her friend, Miss Lurida Vincent. The two agreed +all the better for differing as they did. The octave makes a perfect +chord, when shorter intervals jar more or less on the ear. Each admired +the other with a heartiness which if they had been less unlike, would +have been impossible. + +It was a pleasant thing to observe their dependence on each other. The +Terror of the schoolroom was the oracle in her relations with her friend. +All the freedom of movement which The Wonder showed in her bodily +exercises The Terror manifested in the world of thought. She would fling +open a book, and decide in a swift glance whether it had any message for +her. Her teachers had compared her way of reading to the taking of an +instantaneous photograph. When she took up the first book on Physiology +which Dr. Butts handed her, it seemed to him that if she only opened at +any place, and gave one look, her mind drank its meaning up, as a moist +sponge absorbs water. "What can I do with such a creature as this?" he +said to himself. "There is only one way to deal with her, treat her as +one treats a silkworm: give it its mulberry leaf, and it will spin its +own cocoon. Give her the books, and she will spin her own web of +knowledge." + +"Do you really think of studying medicine?" said Dr. Butts to her. + +"I have n't made up my mind about that," she answered, "but I want to +know a little more about this terrible machinery of life and death we are +all tangled in. I know something about it, but not enough. I find some +very strange beliefs among the women I meet with, and I want to be able +to silence them when they attempt to proselyte me to their whims and +fancies. Besides, I want to know everything." + +"They tell me you do, already," said Dr. Butts. + +"I am the most ignorant little wretch that draws the breath of life!" +exclaimed The Terror. + +The doctor smiled. He knew what it meant. She had reached that stage of +education in which the vast domain of the unknown opens its illimitable +expanse before the eyes of the student. We never know the extent of +darkness until it is partially illuminated. + +"You did not leave the Institute with the reputation of being the most +ignorant young lady that ever graduated there," said the doctor. "They +tell me you got the highest marks of any pupil on their record since the +school was founded." + +"What a grand thing it was to be the biggest fish in our small aquarium, +to be sure!" answered The Terror. "He was six inches long, the +monster,--a little too big for bait to catch a pickerel with! What did +you hand me that schoolbook for? Did you think I did n't know anything +about the human body?" + +"You said you were such an ignorant creature I thought I would try you +with an easy book, by way of introduction." + +The Terror was not confused by her apparent self-contradiction. + +"I meant what I said, and I mean what I say. When I talk about my +ignorance, I don't measure myself with schoolgirls, doctor. I don't +measure myself with my teachers, either. You must talk to me as if I +were a man, a grown man, if you mean to teach me anything. Where is your +hat, doctor? Let me try it on." + +The doctor handed her his wide-awake. The Terror's hair was not +naturally abundant, like Euthymia's, and she kept it cut rather short. +Her head used to get very hot when she studied hard. She tried to put +the hat on. + +"Do you see that?" she said. "I could n't wear it--it would squeeze my +eyes out of my head. The books told me that women's brains were smaller +than men's: perhaps they are,--most of them,--I never measured a great +many. But when they try to settle what women are good for, by +phrenology, I like to have them put their tape round my head. I don't +believe in their nonsense, for all that. You might as well tell me that +if one horse weighs more than another horse he is worth more,--a +cart-horse that weighs twelve or fourteen hundred pounds better than +Eclipse, that may have weighed a thousand. Give me a list of the best +books you can think of, and turn me loose in your library. I can find +what I want, if you have it; and what I don't find there I will get at +the Public Library. I shall want to ask you a question now and then." + +The doctor looked at her with a kind of admiration, but thoughtfully, as +if he feared she was thinking of a task too formidable for her slight +constitutional resource. + +She returned, instinctively, to the apparent contradiction in her +statements about herself. + +"I am not a fool, if I am ignorant. Yes, doctor, I sail on a wide sea of +ignorance, but I have taken soundings of some of its shallows and some of +its depths. Your profession deals with the facts of life that interest +me most just now, and I want to know something of it. Perhaps I may find +it a calling such as would suit me." + +"Do you seriously think of becoming a practitioner of medicine?" said the +doctor. + +"Certainly, I seriously think of it as a possibility, but I want to know +something more about it first. Perhaps I sha'n't believe in medicine +enough to practise it. Perhaps I sha'n't like it well enough. No matter +about that. I wish to study some of your best books on some of the +subjects that most interest me. I know about bones and muscles and all +that, and about digestion and respiration and such things. I want to +study up the nervous system, and learn all about it. I am of the nervous +temperament myself, and perhaps that is the reason. I want to read about +insanity and all that relates to it." + +A curious expression flitted across the doctor's features as The Terror +said this. + +"Nervous system. Insanity. She has headaches, I know,--all those +large-headed, hard-thinking girls do, as a matter of course; but what has +set her off about insanity and the nervous system? I wonder if any of +her more remote relatives are subject to mental disorder. Bright people +very often have crazy relations. Perhaps some of her friends are in that +way. I wonder whether"--the doctor did not speak any of these thoughts, +and in fact hardly shaped his "whether," for The Terror interrupted his +train of reflection, or rather struck into it in a way which startled +him. + +"Where is the first volume of this Medical Cyclopaedia?" she asked, +looking at its empty place on the shelf. + +"On my table," the doctor answered. "I have been consulting it." + +Lurida flung it open, in her eager way, and turned the pages rapidly +until she came to the one she wanted. The doctor cast his eye on the +beading of the page, and saw the large letters A N T. + +"I thought so," he said to himself. "We shall know everything there is +in the books about antipathies now, if we never did before. She has a +special object in studying the nervous system, just as I suspected. I +think she does not care to mention it at this time; but if she finds out +anything of interest she will tell me, if she does anybody. Perhaps she +does not mean to tell anybody. It is a rather delicate business,--a +young girl studying the natural history of a young man. Not quite so +safe as botany or palaeontology!" + +Lurida, lately The Terror, now Miss Vincent, had her own plans, and chose +to keep them to herself, for the present, at least. Her hands were full +enough, it might seem, without undertaking the solution of the great +Arrowhead Village enigma. But she was in the most perfect training, so +far as her intelligence was concerned; and the summer rest had restored +her bodily vigor, so that her brain was like an overcharged battery which +will find conductors somewhere to carry off its crowded energy. + +At this time Arrowhead Village was enjoying the most successful season it +had ever known. The Pansophian Society flourished to an extraordinary +degree under the fostering care of the new Secretary. The rector was a +good figure-head as President, but the Secretary was the life of the +Society. Communications came in abundantly: some from the village and +its neighborhood, some from the University and the Institute, some from +distant and unknown sources. The new Secretary was very busy with the +work of examining these papers. After a forenoon so employed, the carpet +of her room looked like a barn floor after a husking-match. A glance at +the manuscripts strewed about, or lying in heaps, would have frightened +any young writer away from the thought of authorship as a business. If +the candidate for that fearful calling had seen the process of selection +and elimination, he would have felt still more desperately. A paper of +twenty pages would come in, with an underscored request to please read +through, carefully. That request alone is commonly sufficient to condemn +any paper, and prevent its having any chance of a hearing; but the +Secretary was not hardened enough yet for that kind of martial law in +dealing with manuscripts. The looker-on might have seen her take up the +paper, cast one flashing glance at its title, read the first sentence and +the last, dip at a venture into two or three pages, and decide as swiftly +as the lightning calculator would add up a column of figures what was to +be its destination. If rejected, it went into the heap on the left; if +approved, it was laid apart, to be submitted to the Committee for their +judgment. The foolish writers who insist on one's reading through their +manuscript poems and stories ought to know how fatal the request is to +their prospects. It provokes the reader, to begin with. The reading of +manuscript is frightful work, at the best; the reading of worthless +manuscript--and most of that which one is requested to read through is +worthless--would add to the terrors of Tartarus, if any infernal deity +were ingenious enough to suggest it as a punishment. + +If a paper was rejected by the Secretary, it did not come before the +Committee, but was returned to the author, if he sent for it, which he +commonly did. Its natural course was to try for admission into some one +of the popular magazines: into "The Sifter," the most fastidious of them +all; if that declined it, into "The Second Best;" and if that returned +it, into "The Omnivorous." If it was refused admittance at the doors of +all the magazines, it might at length find shelter in the corner of a +newspaper, where a good deal of very readable verse is to be met with +nowadays, some of which has been, no doubt, presented to the Pansophian +Society, but was not considered up to its standard. + + + + +X + +A NEW ARRIVAL. + +There was a recent accession to the transient population of the village +which gave rise to some speculation. The new-comer was a young fellow, +rather careless in his exterior, but apparently as much at home as if he +owned Arrowhead Village and everything in it. He commonly had a cigar in +his mouth, carried a pocket pistol, of the non-explosive sort, and a +stick with a bulldog's bead for its knob; wore a soft bat, a coarse check +suit, a little baggy, and gaiterboots which had been half-soled,--a +Bohemian-looking personage, altogether. + +This individual began making explorations in every direction. He was +very curious about the place and all the people in it. He was especially +interested in the Pansophian Society, concerning which he made all sorts +of inquiries. This led him to form a summer acquaintance with the +Secretary, who was pleased to give him whatever information he asked for; +being proud of the Society, as she had a right to be, and knowing more +about it than anybody else. + +The visitor could not have been long in the village without hearing +something of Maurice Kirkwood, and the stories, true and false, connected +with his name. He questioned everybody who could tell him anything about +Maurice, and set down the answers in a little note-book he always had +with him. + +All this naturally excited the curiosity of the village about this new +visitor. Among the rest, Miss Vincent, not wanting in an attribute +thought to belong more especially to her sex, became somewhat interested +to know more exactly who this inquiring, note-taking personage, who +seemed to be everywhere and to know everybody, might himself be. Meeting +him at the Public Library at a fortunate moment, when there was nobody +but the old Librarian, who was hard of hearing, to interfere with their +conversation, the little Secretary had a chance to try to find out +something about him. + +"This is a very remarkable library for a small village to possess," he +remarked to Miss Lurida. + +"It is, indeed," she said. "Have you found it well furnished with the +books you most want?" + +"Oh, yes,--books enough. I don't care so much for the books as I do for +the Newspapers. I like a Review well enough,--it tells you all there is +in a book; but a good abstract of the Review in a Newspaper saves a +fellow the trouble of reading it." + +"You find the papers you want, here, I hope," said the young lady. + +"Oh, I get along pretty well. It's my off-time, and I don't do much +reading or writing. Who is the city correspondent of this place?" + +"I don't think we have any one who writes regularly. Now and then, there +is a letter, with the gossip of the place in it, or an account of some of +the doings at our Society. The city papers are always glad to get the +reports of our meetings, and to know what is going on in the village." + +"I suppose you write about the Society to the papers, as you are the +Secretary." + +This was a point-blank shot. She meant to question the young man about +his business, and here she was on the witness-stand. She ducked her +head, and let the question go over her. + +"Oh, there are plenty of members who are willing enough to write, +--especially to give an account of their own papers. I think they like +to have me put in the applause, when they get any. I do that sometimes." +(How much more, she did not say.) + +"I have seen some very well written articles, which, from what they tell +me of the Secretary, I should have thought she might have written +herself." + +He looked her straight in the eyes. + +"I have transmitted some good papers," she said, without winking, or +swallowing, or changing color, precious little color she had to change; +her brain wanted all the blood it could borrow or steal, and more too. +"You spoke of Newspapers," she said, without any change of tone or +manner: "do you not frequently write for them yourself?" + +"I should think I did," answered the young man. "I am a regular +correspondent of 'The People's Perennial and Household Inquisitor.'" + +"The regular correspondent from where?" + +"Where! Oh, anywhere,--the place does not make much difference. I have +been writing chiefly from Naples and St. Petersburg, and now and then +from Constantinople." + +"How long since your return to this country, may I ask?" + +"My return? I have never been out of this country. I travel with a +gazetteer and some guide-books. It is the cheapest way, and you can get +the facts much better from them than by trusting your own observation. I +have made the tour of Europe by the help of them and the newspapers. But +of late I have taken to interviewing. I find that a very pleasant +specialty. It is about as good sport as trout-tickling, and much the +same kind of business. I should like to send the Society an account of +one of my interviews. Don't you think they would like to hear it?" + +"I have no doubt they would. Send it to me, and I will look it over; and +if the Committee approve it, we will have it at the next meeting. You +know everything has to be examined and voted on by the Committee," said +the cautious Secretary. + +"Very well,--I will risk it. After it is read, if it is read, please +send it back to me, as I want to sell it to 'The Sifter,' or 'The Second +Best,' or some of the paying magazines." + +This is the paper, which was read at the next meeting of the Pansophian +Society. + +"I was ordered by the editor of the newspaper to which I am attached, +'The People's Perennial and Household Inquisitor,' to make a visit to a +certain well-known writer, and obtain all the particulars I could +concerning him and all that related to him. I have interviewed a good +many politicians, who I thought rather liked the process; but I had never +tried any of these literary people, and I was not quite sure how this one +would feel about it. I said as much to the chief, but he pooh-poohed my +scruples. 'It is n't our business whether they like it or not,' said he; +'the public wants it, and what the public wants it's bound to have, and +we are bound to furnish it. Don't be afraid of your man; he 's used to +it,--he's been pumped often enough to take it easy, and what you've got +to do is to pump him dry. You need n't be modest,--ask him what you +like; he is n't bound to answer, you know.' + +"As he lived in a rather nice quarter of the town, I smarted myself up a +little, put on a fresh collar and cuffs, and got a five-cent shine on my +best high-lows. I said to myself, as I was walking towards the house +where he lived, that I would keep very shady for a while and pass for a +visitor from a distance; one of those 'admiring strangers' who call in to +pay their respects, to get an autograph, and go home and say that they +have met the distinguished So and So, which gives them a certain +distinction in the village circle to which they belong. + +"My man, the celebrated writer, received me in what was evidently his +reception-room. I observed that he managed to get the light full on my +face, while his own was in the shade. I had meant to have his face in +the light, but he knew the localities, and had arranged things so as to +give him that advantage. It was like two frigates manoeuvring,--each +trying to get to windward of the other. I never take out my note-book +until I and my man have got engaged in artless and earnest +conversation,--always about himself and his works, of course, if he is an +author. + +"I began by saying that he must receive a good many callers. Those who +had read his books were naturally curious to see the writer of them. + +"He assented, emphatically, to this statement. He had, he said, a great +many callers. + +"I remarked that there was a quality in his books which made his readers +feel as if they knew him personally, and caused them to cherish a certain +attachment to him. + +"He smiled, as if pleased. He was himself disposed to think so, he said. +In fact, a great many persons, strangers writing to him, had told him so. + +"My dear sir, I said, there is nothing wonderful in the fact you mention. +You reach a responsive chord in many human breasts. + + 'One touch of Nature makes the whole world kin.' + +"Everybody feels as if he, and especially she (his eyes sparkled), were +your blood relation. Do they not name their children after you very +frequently? + +"He blushed perceptibly. 'Sometimes,' he answered. 'I hope they will +all turn out well.' + +"I am afraid I am taking up too much of your time, I said. + +"No, not at all,' he replied. 'Come up into my library; it is warmer and +pleasanter there.' + +"I felt confident that I had him by the right handle then; for an +author's library, which is commonly his working-room, is, like a lady's +boudoir, a sacred apartment. + +"So we went upstairs, and again he got me with the daylight on my face, +when I wanted it on has. + +"You have a fine library, I remarked. There were books all round the +room, and one of those whirligig square book-cases. I saw in front a +Bible and a Concordance, Shakespeare and Mrs. Cowden Clarke's book, and +other classical works and books of grave aspect. I contrived to give it +a turn, and on the side next the wall I got a glimpse of Barnum's Rhyming +Dictionary, and several Dictionaries of Quotations and cheap compends of +knowledge. Always twirl one of those revolving book-cases when you visit +a scholar's library. That is the way to find out what books he does n't +want you to see, which of course are the ones you particularly wish to +see. + +"Some may call all this impertinent and inquisitive. What do you suppose +is an interviewer's business? Did you ever see an oyster opened? Yes? +Well, an interviewer's business is the same thing. His man is his oyster, +which he, not with sword, but with pencil and note-book, must open. Mark +how the oysterman's thin blade insinuates itself,--how gently at first, +how strenuously when once fairly between the shells! + +"And here, I said, you write your books,--those books which have carried +your name to all parts of the world, and will convey it down to +posterity! Is this the desk at which you write? And is this the pen you +write with? + +"'It is the desk and the very pen,' he replied. + +"He was pleased with my questions and my way of putting them. I took up +the pen as reverentially as if it had been made of the feather which the +angel I used to read about in Young's "Night Thoughts" ought to have +dropped, and did n't. + +"Would you kindly write your autograph in my note-book, with that pen? I +asked him. Yes, he would, with great pleasure. + +"So I got out my note-book. + +"It was a spick and span new one, bought on purpose for this interview. +I admire your bookcases, said I. Can you tell me just how high they are? + +"'They are about eight feet, with the cornice.' + +"I should like to have some like those, if I ever get rich enough, said +I. Eight feet,--eight feet, with the cornice. I must put that down. + +"So I got out my pencil. + +"I sat there with my pencil and note-book in my hand, all ready, but not +using them as yet. + +"I have heard it said, I observed, that you began writing poems at a very +early age. Is it taking too great a liberty to ask how early you began +to write in verse? + +"He was getting interested, as people are apt to be when they are +themselves the subjects of conversation. + +"'Very early,--I hardly know how early. I can say truly, as Louise Colet +said, + + "'Je fis mes premiers vers sans savoir les ecrire.'" + +"I am not a very good French scholar, said I; perhaps you will be kind +enough to translate that line for me. + +"'Certainly. With pleasure. I made my first verses without knowing how +to write them.' + +"How interesting! But I never heard of Louise Colet. Who was she? + +"My man was pleased to gi-ve me a piece of literary information. + +"'Louise the lioness! Never heard of her? You have heard of Alphonse +Karr?' + +"Why,--yes,--more or less. To tell the truth, I am not very well up in +French literature. What had he to do with your lioness? + +"'A good deal. He satirized her, and she waited at his door with a +case-knife in her hand, intending to stick him with it. By and by he +came down, smoking a cigarette, and was met by this woman flourishing her +case-knife. He took it from her, after getting a cut in his +dressing-gown, put it in his pocket, and went on with his cigarette. He +keeps it with an inscription: + + "Donne a Alphonse Karr + Par Madame Louise Colet.... + Dans le dos. + +"Lively little female!' + +"I could n't help thinking that I should n't have cared to interview the +lively little female. He was evidently tickled with the interest I +appeared to take in the story he told me. That made him feel amiably +disposed toward me. + +"I began with very general questions, but by degrees I got at everything +about his family history and the small events of his boyhood. Some of +the points touched upon were delicate, but I put a good bold face on my +most audacious questions, and so I wormed out a great deal that was new +concerning my subject. He had been written about considerably, and the +public wouldn't have been satisfied without some new facts; and these I +meant to have, and I got. No matter about many of them now, but here are +some questions and answers that may be thought worth reading or listening +to: + +"How do you enjoy being what they call 'a celebrity,' or a celebrated +man? + +"'So far as one's vanity is concerned it is well enough. But self-love +is a cup without any bottom, and you might pour the Great Lakes all +through it, and never fill it up. It breeds an appetite for more of the +same kind. It tends to make the celebrity a mere lump of egotism. It +generates a craving for high-seasoned personalities which is in danger of +becoming slavery, like that following the abuse of alcohol, or opium, or +tobacco. Think of a man's having every day, by every post, letters that +tell him he is this and that and the other, with epithets and +endearments, one tenth part of which would have made him blush red hot +before he began to be what you call a celebrity!' + +"Are there not some special inconveniences connected with what is called +celebrity? + +"'I should think so! Suppose you were obliged every day of your life to +stand and shake hands, as the President of the United States has to after +his inauguration: how do you think your hand would feel after a few +months' practice of that exercise? Suppose you had given you thirty-five +millions of money a year, in hundred-dollar coupons, on condition that +you cut them all off yourself in the usual manner: how do you think you +should like the look of a pair of scissors at the end of a year, in which +you had worked ten hours a day every day but Sunday, cutting off a +hundred coupons an hour, and found you had not finished your task, after +all? You have addressed me as what you are pleased to call "a literary +celebrity." I won't dispute with you as to whether or not I deserve that +title. I will take it for granted I am what you call me, and give you +some few hints on my experience. + +"'You know there was formed a while ago an Association of Authors for +Self-Protection. It meant well, and it was hoped that something would +come of it in the way of relieving that oppressed class, but I am sorry +to say that it has not effected its purpose.' + +"I suspected he had a hand in drawing up the Constitution and Laws of +that Association. Yes, I said, an admirable Association it was, and as +much needed as the one for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. I am +sorry to hear that it has not proved effectual in putting a stop to the +abuse of a deserving class of men. It ought to have done it; it was well +conceived, and its public manifesto was a masterpiece. (I saw by his +expression that he was its author.) + +"'I see I can trust you,' he said. 'I will unbosom myself freely of some +of the grievances attaching to the position of the individual to whom you +have applied the term "Literary Celebrity." + +"'He is supposed to be a millionaire, in virtue of the immense sales of +his books, all the money from which, it is taken for granted, goes into +his pocket. Consequently, all subscription papers are handed to him for +his signature, and every needy stranger who has heard his name comes to +him for assistance. + +"'He is expected to subscribe for all periodicals, and is goaded by +receiving blank formulae, which, with their promises to pay, he is +expected to fill up. + +"'He receives two or three books daily, with requests to read and give +his opinion about each of them, which opinion, if it has a word which can +be used as an advertisement, he will find quoted in all the newspapers. + +"'He receives thick masses of manuscript, prose and verse, which he is +called upon to examine and pronounce on their merits; these manuscripts +having almost invariably been rejected by the editors to whom they have +been sent, and having as a rule no literary value whatever. + +"'He is expected to sign petitions, to contribute to journals, to write +for fairs, to attend celebrations, to make after-dinner speeches, to send +money for objects he does not believe in to places he never heard of. + +"'He is called on to keep up correspondences with unknown admirers, who +begin by saying they have no claim upon his time, and then appropriate it +by writing page after page, if of the male sex; and sheet after sheet, if +of the other. + +"'If a poet, it is taken for granted that he can sit down at any moment +and spin off any number of verses on any subject which may be suggested +to him; such as congratulations to the writer's great-grandmother on her +reaching her hundredth year, an elegy on an infant aged six weeks, an ode +for the Fourth of July in a Western township not to be found in +Lippincott's last edition, perhaps a valentine for some bucolic lover who +believes that wooing in rhyme is the way to win the object of his +affections.' + +"Is n't it so? I asked the Celebrity. + +"'I would bet on the prose lover. She will show the verses to him, and +they will both have a good laugh over them.' + +"I have only reported a small part of the conversation I had with the +Literary Celebrity. He was so much taken up with his pleasing +self-contemplation, while I made him air his opinions and feelings and +spread his characteristics as his laundress spreads and airs his linen on +the clothes-line, that I don't believe it ever occurred to him that he +had been in the hands of an interviewer until he found himself exposed to +the wind and sunshine in full dimensions in the columns of The People's +Perennial and Household Inquisitor.'" + +After the reading of this paper, much curiosity was shown as to who the +person spoken of as the "Literary Celebrity" might be. Among the various +suppositions the startling idea was suggested that he was neither more +nor less than the unexplained personage known in the village as Maurice +Kirkwood. Why should that be his real name? Why should not he be the +Celebrity, who had taken this name and fled to this retreat to escape +from the persecutions of kind friends, who were pricking him and stabbing +him nigh to death with their daggers of sugar candy? + +The Secretary of the Pansophian Society determined to question the +Interviewer the next time she met him at the Library, which happened soon +after the meeting when his paper was read. + +"I do not know," she said, in the course of a conversation in which she +had spoken warmly of his contribution to the literary entertainment of +the Society, "that you mentioned the name of the Literary Celebrity whom +you interviewed so successfully." + +"I did not mention him, Miss Vincent," he answered, "nor do I think it +worth while to name him. He might not care to have the whole story told +of how he was handled so as to make him communicative. Besides, if I did, +it would bring him a new batch of sympathetic letters, regretting that he +was bothered by those horrid correspondents, full of indignation at the +bores who presumed to intrude upon him with their pages of trash, all the +writers of which would expect answers to their letters of condolence." + +The Secretary asked the Interviewer if he knew the young gentleman who +called himself Maurice Kirkwood. + +"What," he answered, "the man that paddles a birch canoe, and rides all +the wild horses of the neighborhood? No, I don't know him, but I have +met him once or twice, out walking. A mighty shy fellow, they tell me. +Do you know anything particular about him?" + +"Not much. None of us do, but we should like to. The story is that he +has a queer antipathy to something or to somebody, nobody knows what or +whom." + +"To newspaper correspondents, perhaps," said the interviewer. "What made +you ask me about him? You did n't think he was my 'Literary Celebrity,' +did you?" + +"I did not know. I thought he might be. Why don't you interview this +mysterious personage? He would make a good sensation for your paper, I +should think." + +"Why, what is there to be interviewed in him? Is there any story of +crime, or anything else to spice a column or so, or even a few +paragraphs, with? If there is, I am willing to handle him +professionally." + +"I told you he has what they call an antipathy. I don't know how much +wiser you are for that piece of information." + +"An antipathy! Why, so have I an antipathy. I hate a spider, and as for +a naked caterpillar,--I believe I should go into a fit if I had to touch +one. I know I turn pale at the sight of some of those great green +caterpillars that come down from the elm-trees in August and early +autumn." + +"Afraid of them?" asked the young lady. + +"Afraid? What should I be afraid of? They can't bite or sting. I can't +give any reason. All I know is that when I come across one of these +creatures in my path I jump to one side, and cry out,--sometimes using +very improper words. The fact is, they make me crazy for the moment." + +"I understand what you mean," said Miss Vincent. "I used to have the +same feeling about spiders, but I was ashamed of it, and kept a little +menagerie of spiders until I had got over the feeling; that is, pretty +much got over it, for I don't love the creatures very dearly, though I +don't scream when I see one." + +"What did you tell me, Miss Vincent, was this fellow's particular +antipathy?" + +That is just the question. I told you that we don't know and we can't +guess what it is. The people here are tired out with trying to discover +some good reason for the young man's keeping out of the way of everybody, +as he does. They say he is odd or crazy, and they don't seem to be able +to tell which. It would make the old ladies of the village sleep a great +deal sounder,--yes, and some of the young ladies, too,--if they could +find out what this Mr. Kirkwood has got into his head, that he never +comes near any of the people here." + +"I think I can find out," said the Interviewer, whose professional +ambition was beginning to be excited. "I never came across anybody yet +that I could n't get something out of. I am going to stay here a week or +two, and before I go I will find out the secret, if there is any, of this +Mr. Maurice Kirkwood." + +We must leave the Interviewer to his contrivances until they present us +with some kind of result, either in the shape of success or failure. + + + + +XI + +THE INTERVIEWER ATTACKS THE SPHINX. + +When Miss Euthymia Tower sent her oar off in flashing splinters, as she +pulled her last stroke in the boat-race, she did not know what a strain +she was putting upon it. She did know that she was doing her best, but +how great the force of her best was she was not aware until she saw its +effects. Unconsciousness belonged to her robust nature, in all its +manifestations. She did not pride herself on her knowledge, nor reproach +herself for her ignorance. In every way she formed a striking contrast +to her friend, Miss Vincent. Every word they spoke betrayed the +difference between them: the sharp tones of Lurida's head-voice, +penetrative, aggressive, sometimes irritating, revealed the corresponding +traits of mental and moral character; the quiet, conversational contralto +of Euthymia was the index of a nature restful and sympathetic. + +The friendships of young girls prefigure the closer relations which will +one day come in and dissolve their earlier intimacies. The dependence of +two young friends may be mutual, but one will always lean more heavily +than the other; the masculine and feminine elements will be as sure to +assert themselves as if the friends were of different sexes. + +On all common occasions Euthymia looked up to her friend as her superior. +She fully appreciated all her varied gifts and knowledge, and deferred to +her opinion in every-day matters, not exactly as an oracle, but as wiser +than herself or any of her other companions. It was a different thing, +however, when the graver questions of life came up. Lurida was full of +suggestions, plans, projects, which were too liable to run into whims +before she knew where they were tending. She would lay out her ideas +before Euthymia so fluently and eloquently that she could not help +believing them herself, and feeling as if her friend must accept them +with an enthusiasm like her own. Then Euthymia would take them up with +her sweet, deliberate accents, and bring her calmer judgment to bear on +them. + +Lurida was in an excited condition, in the midst of all her new interests +and occupations. She was constantly on the lookout for papers to be read +at the meetings of her Society,--for she made it her own in great +measure, by her zeal and enthusiasm,--and in the mean time she was +reading in various books which Dr. Butts selected for her, all bearing on +the profession to which, at least as a possibility, she was looking +forward. Privately and in a very still way, she was occupying herself +with the problem of the young stranger, the subject of some delusion, or +disease, or obliquity of unknown nature, to which the vague name of +antipathy had been attached. Euthymia kept an eye upon her, partly in +the fear that over-excitement would produce some mental injury, and +partly from anxiety lest she should compromise her womanly dignity in her +desire to get at the truth of a very puzzling question. + +"How do you like the books I see you reading?" said Euthymia to Lurida, +one day, as they met at the Library. + +"Better than all the novels I ever read," she answered. "I have been +reading about the nervous system, and it seems to me I have come nearer +the springs of life than ever before in all my studies. I feel just as +if I were a telegraph operator. I was sure that I had a battery in my +head, for I know my brain works like one; but I did not know how many +centres of energy there are, and how they are played upon by all sorts of +influences, external and internal. Do you know, I believe I could solve +the riddle of the 'Arrowhead Village Sphinx,' as the paper called him, if +he would only stay here long enough?" + +"What paper has had anything about it, Lurida? I have not seen or heard +of its being mentioned in any of the papers." + +"You know that rather queer-looking young man who has been about here for +some time,--the same one who gave the account of his interview with a +celebrated author? Well, he has handed me a copy of a paper in which he +writes, 'The People's Perennial and Household Inquisitor.' He talks about +this village in a very free and easy way. He says there is a Sphinx here, +who has mystified us all." + +"And you have been chatting with that fellow! Don't you know that he'll +have you and all of us in his paper? Don't you know that nothing is safe +where one of those fellows gets in with his note-book and pencil? Oh, +Lurida, Lurida, do be careful!" What with this mysterious young man and +this very questionable newspaper-paragraph writer, you will be talked +about, if you don't mind, before you know it. You had better let the +riddle of the Sphinx alone. If you must deal with such dangerous people, +the safest way is to set one of them to find out the other.--I wonder if +we can't get this new man to interview the visitor you have so much +curiosity about. That might be managed easily enough without your having +anything to do with it. Let me alone, and I will arrange it. But mind, +now, you must not meddle; if you do, you will spoil everything, and get +your name in the 'Household Inquisitor' in a way you won't like." + +"Don't be frightened about me, Euthymia. I don't mean to give him a +chance to work me into his paper, if I can help it. But if you can get +him to try his skill upon this interesting personage and his antipathy, +so much the better. I am very curious about it, and therefore about him. +I want to know what has produced this strange state of feeling in a young +man who ought to have all the common instincts of a social being. I +believe there are unexplained facts in the region of sympathies and +antipathies which will repay study with a deeper insight into the +mysteries of life than we have dreamed of hitherto. I often wonder +whether there are not heart-waves and soul-waves as well as +'brain-waves,' which some have already recognized." + +Euthymia wondered, as well she might, to hear this young woman talking +the language of science like an adept. The truth is, Lurida was one of +those persons who never are young, and who, by way of compensation, will +never be old. They are found in both sexes. Two well-known graduates of +one of our great universities are living examples of this precocious but +enduring intellectual development. If the readers of this narrative +cannot pick them out, they need not expect the writer of it to help them. +If they guess rightly who they are, they will recognize the fact that +just such exceptional individuals as the young woman we are dealing with +are met with from time to time in families where intelligence has been +cumulative for two or three generations. + +Euthymia was very willing that the questioning and questionable visitor +should learn all that was known in the village about the nebulous +individual whose misty environment all the eyes in the village were +trying to penetrate, but that he should learn it from some other +informant than Lurida. + +The next morning, as the Interviewer took his seat on a bench outside his +door, to smoke his after-breakfast cigar, a bright-looking and handsome +youth, whose features recalled those of Euthymia so strikingly that one +might feel pretty sure he was her brother, took a seat by his side. +Presently the two were engaged in conversation. The Interviewer asked all +sorts of questions about everybody in the village. When he came to +inquire about Maurice, the youth showed a remarkable interest regarding +him. The greatest curiosity, he said, existed with reference to this +personage. Everybody was trying to find out what his story was,--for a +story, and a strange one, he must surely have,--and nobody had succeeded. + +The Interviewer began to be unusually attentive. The young man told him +the various antipathy stories, about the evil-eye hypothesis, about his +horse-taming exploits, his rescuing the student whose boat was +overturned, and every occurrence he could recall which would help out the +effect of his narrative. + +The Interviewer was becoming excited. "Can't find out anything about +him, you said, did n-'t you? How do you know there's anything to find? +Do you want to know what I think he is? I'll tell you. I think he is an +actor,--a fellow from one of the city theatres. Those fellows go off in +their summer vacation, and like to puzzle the country folks. They are +the very same chaps, like as not, the visitors have seen in plays at the +city theatres; but of course they don't know 'em in plain clothes. Kings +and Emperors look pretty shabby off the stage sometimes, I can tell you." + +The young man followed the Interviewer's lead. "I shouldn't wonder if +you were right," he said. "I remember seeing a young fellow in Romeo +that looked a good deal like this one. But I never met the Sphinx, as +they call him, face to face. He is as shy as a woodchuck. I believe +there are people here that would give a hundred dollars to find out who +he is, and where he came from, and what he is here for, and why he does +n't act like other folks. I wonder why some of those newspaper men don't +come up here and get hold of this story. It would be just the thing for +a sensational writer." + +To all this the Interviewer listened with true professional interest. +Always on the lookout for something to make up a paragraph or a column +about; driven oftentimes to the stalest of repetitions,--to the biggest +pumpkin story, the tall cornstalk, the fat ox, the live frog from the +human stomach story, the third set of teeth and reading without +spectacles at ninety story, and the rest of the marvellous commonplaces +which are kept in type with e o y or e 6 m (every other year or every +six months) at the foot; always in want of a fresh incident, a new story, +an undescribed character, an unexplained mystery, it is no wonder that +the Interviewer fastened eagerly upon this most tempting subject for an +inventive and emotional correspondent. + +He had seen Paolo several times, and knew that he was Maurice's +confidential servant, but had never spoken to him. So he said to himself +that he must make Paolo's acquaintance, to begin with. In the summer +season many kinds of small traffic were always carried on in Arrowhead +Village. Among the rest, the sellers of fruits--oranges, bananas, and +others, according to the seasons--did an active business. The +Interviewer watched one of these fruit-sellers, and saw that his +hand-cart stopped opposite the house where, as he knew, Maurice Kirkwood +was living. Presently Paolo came out of the door, and began examining +the contents of the hand-cart. The Interviewer saw his opportunity. +Here was an introduction to the man, and the man must introduce him to +the master. + +He knew very well how to ingratiate himself with the man,--there was no +difficulty about that. He had learned his name, and that he was an +Italian whom Maurice had brought to this country with him. + +"Good morning, Mr. Paul," he said. "How do you like the look of these +oranges?" + +"They pretty fair," said Paolo: "no so good as them las' week; no sweet +as them was." + +"Why, how do you know without tasting them?" said the Interviewer. + +"I know by his look,--I know by his smell,--he no good yaller,--he no +smell ripe,--I know orange ever since my head no bigger than he is," and +Paolo laughed at his own comparison. + +The Interviewer laughed louder than Paolo. + +"Good!" said he,--"first-rate! Of course you know all about 'em. Why +can't you pick me out a couple of what you think are the best of 'em? I +shall be greatly obliged to you. I have a sick friend, and I want to get +two nice sweet ones for him." + +Paolo was pleased. His skill and judgment were recognized. He felt +grateful to the stranger, who had given him, an opportunity of conferring +a favor. He selected two, after careful examination and grave +deliberation. The Interviewer had sense and tact enough not to offer him +an orange, and so shift the balance of obligation. + +"How is Mr. Kirkwood, to-day?" he asked. + +"Signor? He very well. He always well. Why you ask? Anybody tell you +he sick?" + +"No, nobody said he was sick. I have n't seen him going about for a day +or two, and I thought he might have something the matter with him. Is he +in the house now?" + +"No: he off riding. He take long, long rides, sometime gone all day. +Sometime he go on lake, paddle, paddle in the morning, very, very +early,--in night when the moon shine; sometime stay in house, and read, +and study, and write,--he great scholar, Misser Kirkwood." + +"A good many books, has n't he?" + +"He got whole shelfs full of books. Great books, little books, old +books, new books, all sorts of books. He great scholar, I tell you." + +"Has n't he some curiosities,--old figures, old jewelry, old coins, or +things of that sort?" + +Paolo looked at the young man cautiously, almost suspiciously. "He don't +keep no jewels nor no money in his chamber. He got some old things,--old +jugs, old brass figgers, old money, such as they used to have in old +times: she don't pass now." Paolo's genders were apt to be somewhat +indiscriminately distributed. + +A lucky thought struck the Interviewer. "I wonder if he would examine +some old coins of mine?" said he, in a modestly tentative manner. + +"I think he like to see anything curious. When he come home I ask him. +Who will I tell him wants to ask him about old coin?" + +"Tell him a gentleman visiting Arrowhead Village would like to call and +show him some old pieces of money, said to be Roman ones." + +The Interviewer had just remembered that he had two or three old battered +bits of copper which he had picked up at a tollman's, where they had been +passed off for cents. He had bought them as curiosities. One had the +name of Gallienus upon it, tolerably distinct,--a common little Roman +penny; but it would serve his purpose of asking a question, as would two +or three others with less legible legends. Paolo told him that if he +came the next morning he would stand a fair chance of seeing Mr. +Kirkwood. At any rate, he would speak to his master. + +The Interviewer presented himself the next morning, after finishing his +breakfast and his cigar, feeling reasonably sure of finding Mr. Kirkwood +at home, as he proved to be. He had told Paolo to show the stranger up +to his library,--or study, as he modestly called it. + +It was a pleasant room enough, with a lookout on the lake in one +direction, and the wooded hill in another. The tenant had fitted it up +in scholarly fashion. The books Paolo spoke of were conspicuous, many of +them, by their white vellum binding and tasteful gilding, showing that +probably they had been bound in Rome, or some other Italian city. With +these were older volumes in their dark original leather, and recent ones +in cloth or paper. As the Interviewer ran his eye over them, he found +that he could make very little out of what their backs taught him. Some +of the paper-covered books, some of the cloth-covered ones, had names +which he knew; but those on the backs of many of the others were strange +to his eyes. The classics of Greek and Latin and Italian literature were +there; and he saw enough to feel convinced that he had better not attempt +to display his erudition in the company of this young scholar. + +The first thing the Interviewer had to do was to account for his visiting +a person who had not asked to make his acquaintance, and who was living +as a recluse. He took out his battered coppers, and showed them to +Maurice. + +"I understood that you were very skilful in antiquities, and had a good +many yourself. So I took the liberty of calling upon you, hoping that +you could tell me something about some ancient coins I have had for a +good while." So saying, he pointed to the copper with the name of +Gallienus. + +"Is this very rare and valuable? I have heard that great prices have +been paid for some of these ancient coins,--ever so many guineas, +sometimes. I suppose this is as much as a thousand years old." + +"More than a thousand years old," said Maurice. + +"And worth a great deal of money?" asked the Interviewer. + +"No, not a great deal of money," answered Maurice. + +"How much, should you say?" said the Interviewer. + +Maurice smiled. "A little more than the value of its weight in +copper,--I am afraid not much more. There are a good many of these coins +of Gallienus knocking about. The peddlers and the shopkeepers take such +pieces occasionally, and sell them, sometimes for five or ten cents, to +young collectors. No, it is not very precious in money value, but as a +relic any piece of money that was passed from hand to hand a thousand or +fifteen hundred years ago is interesting. The value of such relics is a +good deal a matter of imagination." + +"And what do you say to these others?" asked the Interviewer. Poor old +worn-out things they were, with a letter or two only, and some faint +trace of a figure on one or two of them. + +"Very interesting, always, if they carry your imagination back to the +times when you may suppose they were current. Perhaps Horace tossed one +of them to a beggar. Perhaps one of these was the coin that was brought +when One said to those about Him, 'Bring me a penny, that I may see it.' +But the market price is a different matter. That depends on the beauty +and preservation, and above all the rarity, of the specimen. Here is a +coin, now,"--he opened a small cabinet, and took one from it. "Here is a +Syracusan decadrachm with the head of Persephone, which is at once rare, +well preserved, and beautiful. I am afraid to tell what I paid for it." + +The Interviewer was not an expert in numismatics. He cared very little +more for an old coin than he did for an old button, but he had thought +his purchase at the tollman's might prove a good speculation. No matter +about the battered old pieces: he had found out, at any rate, that +Maurice must have money and could be extravagant, or what he himself +considered so; also that he was familiar with ancient coins. That would +do for a beginning. + +"May I ask where you picked up the coin you are showing me?" he said + +"That is a question which provokes a negative answer. One does not 'pick +up' first-class coins or paintings, very often, in these times. I bought +this of a great dealer in Rome." + +"Lived in Rome once?" said the Interviewer. + +"For some years. Perhaps you have been there yourself?" + +The Interviewer said he had never been there yet, but he hoped he should +go there, one of these years, "suppose you studied art and antiquities +while you were there?" he continued. + +"Everybody who goes to Rome must learn something of art and antiquities. +Before you go there I advise you to review Roman history and the classic +authors. You had better make a study of ancient and modern art, and not +have everything to learn while you are going about among ruins, and +churches, and galleries. You know your Horace and Virgil well, I take it +for granted?" + +The Interviewer hesitated. The names sounded as if he had heard them. +"Not so well as I mean to before going to Rome," he answered. "May I ask +how long you lived in Rome?" + +"Long enough to know something of what is to be seen in it. No one +should go there without careful preparation beforehand. You are familiar +with Vasari, of course?" + +The Interviewer felt a slight moisture on his forehead. He took out his +handkerchief. "It is a warm day," he said. "I have not had time to read +all--the works I mean to. I have had too much writing to do, myself, to +find all the time for reading and study I could have wished." + +"In what literary occupation have you been engaged, if you will pardon my +inquiry? said Maurice. + +"I am connected with the press. I understood that you were a man of +letters, and I hoped I might have the privilege of hearing from your own +lips some account of your literary experiences." + +"Perhaps that might be interesting, but I think I shall reserve it for my +autobiography. You said you were connected with the press. Do I +understand that you are an author?" + +By this time the Interviewer had come to the conclusion that it was a +very warm day. He did not seem to be getting hold of his pitcher by the +right handle, somehow. But he could not help answering Maurice's very +simple question. + +"If writing for a newspaper gives one a right to be called an author, I +may call myself one. I write for the "People's Perennial and Household +Inquisitor." + +"Are you the literary critic of that well-known journal, or do you manage +the political column?" + +"I am a correspondent from different places and on various matters of +interest." + +"Places you have been to, and people you have known?" + +"Well, yes,-generally, that is. Sometimes I have to compile my +articles." + +"Did you write the letter from Rome, published a few weeks ago?" + +The Interviewer was in what he would call a tight place. However, he had +found that his man was too much for him, and saw that the best thing he +could do was to submit to be interviewed himself. He thought that he +should be able to pick up something or other which he could work into his +report of his visit. + +"Well, I--prepared that article for our columns. You know one does not +have to see everything he describes. You found it accurate, I hope, in +its descriptions?" + +"Yes, Murray is generally accurate. Sometimes he makes mistakes, but I +can't say how far you have copied them. You got the Ponte Molle--the +old Milvian bridge--a good deal too far down the stream, if I remember. +I happened to notice that, but I did not read the article carefully. May +I ask whether you propose to do me the honor of reporting this visit and +the conversation we have had, for the columns of the newspaper with which +you are connected?" + +The Interviewer thought he saw an opening. "If you have no objections," +he said, "I should like very much to ask a few questions." He was +recovering his professional audacity. + +"You can ask as many questions as you consider proper and discreet, +--after you have answered one or two of mine: Who commissioned you to +submit me to examination?" + +"The curiosity of the public wishes to be gratified, and I am the humble +agent of its investigations." + +"What has the public to do with my private affairs?" + +"I suppose it is a question of majority and minority. That settles +everything in this country. You are a minority of one opposed to a large +number of curious people that form a majority against you. That is the +way I've heard the chief put it." + +Maurice could not help smiling at the quiet assumption of the American +citizen. The Interviewer smiled, too, and thought he had his man, sure, +at last. Maurice calmly answered, "There is nothing left for minorities, +then, but the right of rebellion. I don't care about being made the +subject of an article for your paper. I am here for my pleasure, minding +my own business, and content with that occupation. I rebel against your +system of forced publicity. Whenever I am ready I shall tell the public +all it has any right to know about me. In the mean time I shall request +to be spared reading my biography while I am living. I wish you a +good-morning." + +The Interviewer had not taken out his note-book and pencil. In his next +communication from Arrowhead Village he contented himself with a brief +mention of the distinguished and accomplished gentleman now visiting the +place, whose library and cabinet of coins he had had the privilege of +examining, and whose courtesy was equalled only by the modesty that +shunned the public notoriety which the organs of popular intelligence +would otherwise confer upon him. + +The Interviewer had attempted the riddle of the Sphinx, and had failed to +get the first hint of its solution. + +The many tongues of the village and its visitors could not remain idle. +The whole subject of antipathies had been talked over, and the various +cases recorded had become more or less familiar to the conversational +circles which met every evening in the different centres of social life. +The prevalent hypothesis for the moment was that Maurice had a congenital +aversion to some color, the effects of which upon him were so painful or +disagreeable that he habitually avoided exposure to it. It was known, +and it has already been mentioned, that such cases were on record. There +had been a great deal of discussion, of late, with reference to a fact +long known to a few individuals, but only recently made a matter of +careful scientific observation and brought to the notice of the public. +This was the now well-known phenomenon of color-blindness. It did not +seem very strange that if one person in every score or two could not tell +red from green there might be other curious individual peculiarities +relating to color. A case has already been referred to where the subject +of observation fainted at the sight of any red object. What if this were +the trouble with Maurice Kirkwood? It will be seen at once how such a +congenital antipathy would tend to isolate the person who was its +unfortunate victim. It was an hypothesis not difficult to test, but it +was a rather delicate business to be experimenting on an inoffensive +stranger. Miss Vincent was thinking it over, but said nothing, even to +Euthymia, of any projects she might entertain. + + + + +XII + +MISS VINCENT AS A MEDICAL STUDENT. + +The young lady whom we have known as The Terror, as Lurida, as Miss +Vincent, Secretary of the Pansophian Society, had been reading various +works selected for her by Dr. Butts,--works chiefly relating to the +nervous system and its different affections. She thought it was about +time to talk over the general subject of the medical profession with her +new teacher,--if such a self-directing person as Lurida could be said to +recognize anybody as teacher. + +She began at the beginning. "What is the first book you would put in a +student's hands, doctor?" she said to him one day. They were in his +study, and Lurida had just brought back a thick volume on Insanity, one +of Bucknill and Puke's, which she had devoured as if it had been a +pamphlet. + +"Not that book, certainly," he said. "I am afraid it will put all sorts +of notions into your head. Who or what set you to reading that, I should +like to know?" + +"I found it on one of your shelves, and as I thought I might perhaps be +crazy some time or other, I felt as if I should like to know what kind of +a condition insanity is. I don't believe they were ever very bright, +those insane people, most of them. I hope I am not stupid enough ever to +lose my wits." + +"There is no telling, my dear, what may happen if you overwork that busy +brain of yours. But did n't it make you nervous, reading about so many +people possessed with such strange notions?" + +"Nervous? Not a bit. I could n't help thinking, though, how many people +I had known that had a little touch of craziness about them. Take that +poor woman that says she is Her Majesty's Person,--not Her Majesty, but +Her Majesty's Person,--a very important distinction, according to her: +how she does remind me of more than one girl I have known! She would let +her skirts down so as to make a kind of train, and pile things on her +head like a sort of crown, fold her arms and throw her head back, and +feel as grand as a queen. I have seen more than one girl act very much +in that way. Are not most of us a little crazy, doctor,--just a little? +I think so. It seems to me I never saw but one girl who was free from +every hint of craziness." + +"And who was that, pray?" + +"Why, Euthymia,--nobody else, of course. She never loses her head,--I +don't believe she would in an earthquake. Whenever we were at work with +our microscopes at the Institute I always told her that her mind was the +only achromatic one I ever looked into,--I did n't say looked +through.---But I did n't come to talk about that. I read in one of your +books that when Sydenham was asked by a student what books he should +read, the great physician said, 'Read "Don Quixote."' I want you to +explain that to me; and then I want you to tell me what is the first +book, according to your idea, that a student ought to read." + +"What do you say to my taking your question as the subject of a paper to +be read before the Society? I think there may be other young ladies at +the meeting, besides yourself, who are thinking of pursuing the study of +medicine. At any rate, there are a good many who are interested in the +subject; in fact, most people listen readily to anything doctors tell +them about their calling." + +"I wish you would, doctor. I want Euthymia to hear it, and I don't doubt +there will be others who will be glad to hear everything you have to say +about it. But oh, doctor, if you could only persuade Eutbymia to become +a physician! What a doctor she would make! So strong, so calm, so full +of wisdom! I believe she could take the wheel of a steamboat in a storm, +or the hose of a fire-engine in a conflagration, and handle it as well as +the captain of the boat or of the fire-company." + +"Have you ever talked with her about studying medicine?" + +"Indeed I have. Oh, if she would only begin with me! What good times we +would have studying together!" + +"I don't doubt it. Medicine is a very pleasant study. But how do you +think practice would be? How would you like being called up to ride ten +miles in a midnight snow-storm, just when one of your raging headaches +was racking you?" + +"Oh, but we could go into partnership, and Euthymia is n't afraid of +storms or anything else. If she would only study medicine with me!" + +"Well, what does she say to it?" + +"She does n't like the thought of it. She does n't believe in women +doctors. She thinks that now and then a woman may be fitted for it by +nature, but she does n't think there are many who are. She gives me a +good many reasons against their practising medicine, you know what most +of them are, doctor,--and ends by saying that the same woman who would be +a poor sort of doctor would make a first-rate nurse; and that, she +thinks, is a woman's business, if her instinct carries her to the +hospital or sick-chamber. I can't argue her ideas out of her." + +"Neither can I argue you out of your feeling about the matter; but I am +disposed to agree with your friend, that you will often spoil a good +nurse to make a poor doctor. Doctors and side-saddles don't seem to me +to go together. Riding habits would be awkward things for practitioners. +But come, we won't have a controversy just now. I am for giving women +every chance for a good education, and if they think medicine is one of +their proper callings let them try it. I think they will find that they +had better at least limit themselves to certain specialties, and always +have an expert of the other sex to fall back upon. The trouble is that +they are so impressible and imaginative that they are at the mercy of all +sorts of fancy systems. You have only to see what kinds of instruction +they very commonly flock to in order to guess whether they would be +likely to prove sensible practitioners. Charlatanism always hobbles on +two crutches, the tattle of women, and the certificates of clergymen, and +I am afraid that half the women doctors will be too much under both those +influences." + +Lurida believed in Dr. Butts, who, to use the common language of the +village, had "carried her through" a fever, brought on by over-excitement +and exhausting study. She took no offence at his reference to nursery +gossip, which she had learned to hold cheap. Nobody so despises the +weaknesses of women as the champion of woman's rights. She accepted the +doctor's concession of a fair field and open trial of the fitness of her +sex for medical practice, and did not trouble herself about his suggested +limitations. As to the imaginative tendencies of women, she knew too +well the truth of the doctor's remark relating to them to wish to +contradict it. + +"Be sure you let me have your paper in season for the next meeting, +doctor," she said; and in due season it came, and was of course approved +for reading. + + + + +XIII + +DR. BUTTS READS A PAPER. + +"Next to the interest we take in all that relates to our immortal souls +is that which we feel for our mortal bodies. I am afraid my very first +statement may be open to criticism. The care of the body is the first +thought with a great many,--in fact, with the larger part of the world. +They send for the physician first, and not until he gives them up do they +commonly call in the clergyman. Even the minister himself is not so very +different from other people. We must not blame him if he is not always +impatient to exchange a world of multiplied interests and ever-changing +sources of excitement for that which tradition has delivered to us as one +eminently deficient in the stimulus of variety. Besides, these bodily +frames, even when worn and disfigured by long years of service, hang +about our consciousness like old garments. They are used to us, and we +are used to them. And all the accidents of our lives,--the house we dwell +in, the living people round us, the landscape we look over, all, up to +the sky that covers us like a bell glass,--all these are but looser +outside garments which we have worn until they seem a part of us, and we +do not like the thought of changing them for a new suit which we have +never yet tried on. How well I remember that dear ancient lady, who +lived well into the last decade of her century, as she repeated the verse +which, if I had but one to choose, I would select from that string of +pearls, Gray's 'Elegy'! + + "'For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey + This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, + Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, + Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?' + +"Plotinus was ashamed of his body, we are told. Better so, it may be, +than to live solely for it, as so many do. But it may be well doubted if +there is any disciple of Plotinus in this Society. On the contrary, +there are many who think a great deal of their bodies, many who have come +here to regain the health they have lost in the wear and tear of city +life, and very few who have not at some time or other of their lives had +occasion to call in the services of a physician. + +"There is, therefore, no impropriety in my offering to the members some +remarks upon the peculiar difficulties which beset the medical +practitioner in the discharge of his laborious and important duties. + +"A young friend of mine, who has taken an interest in medical studies, +happened to meet with a very familiar story about one of the greatest and +most celebrated of all English physicians, Thomas Sydenham. The story is +that, when a student asked him what books he should read, the great +doctor told him to read 'Don Quixote.' + +"This piece of advice has been used to throw contempt upon the study of +books, and furnishes a convenient shield for ignorant pretenders. But +Sydenham left many writings in which he has recorded his medical +experience, and he surely would not have published them if he had not +thought they would be better reading for the medical student than the +story of Cervantes. His own works are esteemed to this day, and he +certainly could not have supposed that they contained all the wisdom of +all the past. No remedy is good, it was said of old, unless applied at +the right time in the right way. So we may say of all anecdotes, like +this which I have told you about Sydenham and the young man. It is very +likely that he carried him to the bedside of some patients, and talked to +him about the cases he showed him, instead of putting a Latin volume in +his hand. I would as soon begin in that way as any other, with a student +who had already mastered the preliminary branches,--who knew enough about +the structure and functions of the body in health. + +"But if you ask me what reading I would commend to the medical student of +a philosophical habit of mind, you may be surprised to hear me say it +would be certain passages in 'Rasselas.' They are the ones where the +astronomer gives an account to Imlac of his management of the elements, +the control of which, as he had persuaded himself, had been committed to +him. Let me read you a few sentences from this story, which is commonly +bound up with the 'Vicar of Wakefield,' like a woollen lining to a silken +mantle, but is full of stately wisdom in processions of paragraphs which +sound as if they ought to have a grammatical drum-major to march before +their tramping platoons. + +"The astronomer has taken Imlac into his confidence, and reveals to him +the secret of his wonderful powers:-- + +"'Hear, Imlac, what thou wilt not without difficulty credit. I have +possessed for five years the regulation of the weather and the +distribution of the seasons the sun has listened to my dictates, and +passed from tropic to tropic by my direction; the clouds, at my call, +have poured their waters, and the Nile has overflowed at my command; I +have restrained the rage of the dog-star, and mitigated the fervors of +the crab. The winds alone, of all the elemental powers, have hitherto +eluded my authority, and multitudes have perished by equinoctial +tempests, which I found myself unable to prohibit or restrain.' + +"The reader naturally wishes to know how the astronomer, a sincere, +devoted, and most benevolent man, for forty years a student of the +heavens, came to the strange belief that he possessed these miraculous +powers. This is his account: + +"'One day, as I was looking on the fields withering with heat, I felt in +my mind a sudden wish that I could send rain on the southern mountains, +and raise the Nile to an inundation. In the hurry of my imagination I +commanded rain to fall, and by comparing the time of my command with that +of the inundation I found that the clouds had listened to my lips.' + +"'Might not some other cause,' said I, 'produce this concurrence? The +Nile does not always rise on the same day.' + +"'Do not believe,' said he, with impatience, I that such objections could +escape me: I reasoned long against my own conviction, and labored against +truth with the utmost obstinacy. I sometimes suspected myself of +madness, and should not have dared to impart this secret but to a man +like you, capable of distinguishing the wonderful from the impossible and +the incredible from the false.' + +"The good old astronomer gives his parting directions to Imlac, whom he +has adopted as his successor in the government of the elements and the +seasons, in these impressive words: + +"Do not, in the administration of the year, indulge thy pride by +innovation; do not please thyself with thinking that thou canst make +thyself renowned to all future ages by disordering the seasons. The +memory of mischief is no desirable fame. Much less will it become thee +to let kindness or interest prevail. Never rob other countries of rain +to pour it on thine own. For us the Nile is sufficient.' + +"Do you wonder, my friends, why I have chosen these passages, in which +the delusions of an insane astronomer are related with all the pomp of +the Johnsonian vocabulary, as the first lesson for the young person about +to enter on the study of the science and art of healing? Listen to me +while I show you the parallel of the story of the astronomer in the +history of medicine. + +"This history is luminous with intelligence, radiant with benevolence, +but all its wisdom and all its virtue have had to struggle with the +ever-rising mists of delusion. The agencies which waste and destroy the +race of mankind are vast and resistless as the elemental forces of +nature; nay, they are themselves elemental forces. They may be to some +extent avoided, to some extent diverted from their aim, to some extent +resisted. So may the changes of the seasons, from cold that freezes to +heats that strike with sudden death, be guarded against. So may the +tides be in some small measure restrained in their inroads. So may the +storms be breasted by walls they cannot shake from their foundations. +But the seasons and the tides and the tempests work their will on the +great scale upon whatever stands in their way; they feed or starve the +tillers of the soil; they spare or drown the dwellers by the shore; they +waft the seaman to his harbor or bury him in the angry billows. + +"The art of the physician can do much to remove its subjects from deadly +and dangerous influences, and something to control or arrest the effects +of these influences. But look at the records of the life-insurance +offices, and see how uniform is the action of nature's destroying +agencies. Look at the annual reports of the deaths in any of our great +cities, and see how their regularity approaches the uniformity of the +tides, and their variations keep pace with those of the seasons. The +inundations of the Nile are not more certainly to be predicted than the +vast wave of infantile disease which flows in upon all our great cities +with the growing heats of July,--than the fevers and dysenteries which +visit our rural districts in the months of the falling leaf. + +"The physician watches these changes as the astronomer watched the rise +of the great river. He longs to rescue individuals, to protect +communities from the inroads of these destroying agencies. He uses all +the means which experience has approved, tries every rational method +which ingenuity can suggest. Some fortunate recovery leads him to +believe he has hit upon a preventive or a cure for a malady which had +resisted all known remedies. His rescued patient sounds his praises, and +a wide circle of his patient's friends joins in a chorus of eulogies. +Self-love applauds him for his sagacity. Self-interest congratulates him +on his having found the road to fortune; the sense of having proved a +benefactor of his race smooths the pillow on which he lays his head to +dream of the brilliant future opening before him. If a single +coincidence may lead a person of sanguine disposition to believe that he +has mastered a disease which had baffled all who were before his time, +and on which his contemporaries looked in hopeless impotence, what must +be the effect of a series of such coincidences even on a mind of calmer +temper! Such series of coincidences will happen, and they may well +deceive the very elect. Think of Dr. Rush,--you know what a famous man +he was, the very head and front of American medical science in his day, +--and remember how he spoke about yellow fever, which he thought he had +mastered! + +"Thus the physician is entangled in the meshes of a wide conspiracy, in +which he and his patient and their friends, and-Nature herself, are +involved. What wonder that the history of Medicine should be to so great +an extent a record of self-delusion! + +"If this seems a dangerous concession to the enemies of the true science +and art of healing, I will remind you that it is all implied in the first +aphorism of Hippocrates, the Father of Medicine. Do not draw a wrong +inference from the frank statement of the difficulties which beset the +medical practitioner. Think rather, if truth is so hard of attainment, +how precious are the results which the consent of the wisest and most +experienced among the healers of men agrees in accepting. Think what +folly it is to cast them aside in favor of palpable impositions stolen +from the records of forgotten charlatanism, or of fantastic speculations +spun from the squinting brains of theorists as wild as the Egyptian +astronomer. + +"Begin your medical studies, then, by reading the fortieth and the +following four chapters of 'Rasselas.' Your first lesson will teach you +modesty and caution in the pursuit of the most deceptive of all practical +branches of knowledge. Faith will come later, when you learn how much +medical science and art have actually achieved for the relief of mankind, +and how great are the promises it holds out of still larger triumphs over +the enemies of human health and happiness." + +After the reading of this paper there was a lively discussion, which we +have no room to report here, and the Society adjourned. + + + + +XIV + +MISS VINCENT'S STARTLING DISCOVERY. + +The sober-minded, sensible, well-instructed Dr. Butts was not a little +exercised in mind by the demands made upon his knowledge by his young +friend, and for the time being his pupil, Miss Lurida Vincent. + +"I don't wonder they called her The Terror," he said to himself. "She is +enough to frighten anybody. She has taken down old books from my shelves +that I had almost forgotten the backs of, and as to the medical journals, +I believe the girl could index them from memory. She is in pursuit of +some special point of knowledge, I feel sure, and I cannot doubt what +direction she is working in, but her wonderful way of dealing with books +amazes me." + +What marvels those "first scholars" in the classes of our great +universities and colleges are, to be sure! They are not, as a rule, the +most distinguished of their class in the long struggle of life. The +chances are that "the field" will beat "the favorite" over the long +race-course. Others will develop a longer stride and more staying power. +But what fine gifts those "first scholars" have received from nature! +How dull we writers, famous or obscure, are in the acquisition of +knowledge as compared with them! To lead their classmates they must have +quick apprehension, fine memories, thorough control of their mental +faculties, strong will, power of concentration, facility of +expression,--a wonderful equipment of mental faculties. I always want to +take my hat off to the first scholar of his year. + +Dr. Butts felt somewhat in the same way as he contemplated The Terror. +She surprised him so often with her knowledge that he was ready to +receive her without astonishment when she burst in upon him one allay +with a cry of triumph, "Eureka! Eureka!" + +"And what have you found, my dear?" said the doctor. + +Lurida was flushed and panting with the excitement of her new discovery. + +"I do believe that I have found the secret of our strange visitor's dread +of all human intercourse!" + +The seasoned practitioner was not easily thrown off his balance. + +"Wait a minute and get your breath," said the doctor. "Are you not a +little overstating his peculiarity? It is not quite so bad as that. He +keeps a man to serve him, he was civil with the people at the Old Tavern, +he was affable enough, I understand, with the young fellow he pulled out +of the water, or rescued somehow,--I don't believe be avoids the whole +human race. He does not look as if he hated them, so far as I have +remarked his expression. I passed a few words with him when his man was +ailing, and found him polite enough. No, I don't believe it is much more +than an extreme case of shyness, connected, perhaps, with some congenital +or other personal repugnance to which has been given the name of an +antipathy." + +Lurida could hardly keep still while the doctor was speaking. When he +finished, she began the account of her discovery: + +"I do certainly believe I have found an account of his case in an Italian +medical journal of about fourteen years ago. I met with a reference +which led me to look over a file of the Giornale degli Ospitali lying +among the old pamphlets in the medical section of the Library. I have +made a translation of it, which you must read and then tell me if you do +not agree with me in my conclusion." + +"Tell me what your conclusion is, and I will read your paper and see for +myself whether I think the evidence justifies the conviction you seem to +have reached." + +Lurida's large eyes showed their whole rounds like the two halves of a +map of the world, as she said, + +"I believe that Maurice Kirkwood is suffering from the effects of the +bite of a TARANTULA!" + +The doctor drew a long breath. He remembered in a vague sort of way the +stories which used to be told of the terrible Apulian spider, but he had +consigned them to the limbo of medical fable where so many fictions have +clothed themselves with a local habitation and a name. He looked into the +round eyes and wide pupils a little anxiously, as if he feared that she +was in a state of undue excitement, but, true to his professional +training, he waited for another symptom, if indeed her mind was in any +measure off its balance. + +"I know what you are thinking," Lurida said, "but it is not so. 'I am +not mad, most noble Festus.' You shall see the evidence and judge for +yourself. Read the whole case,--you can read my hand almost as if it +were print, and tell me if you do not agree with me that this young man +is in all probability the same person as the boy described in the Italian +journal, + +"One thing you might say is against the supposition. The young patient +is spoken of as Signorino M . . . Ch. . . . But you must remember +that ch is pronounced hard in Italian, like k, which letter is wanting in +the Italian alphabet; and it is natural enough that the initial of the +second name should have got changed in the record to its Italian +equivalent." + +Before inviting the reader to follow the details of this extraordinary +case as found in a medical journal, the narrator wishes to be indulged in +a few words of explanation, in order that he may not have to apologize +for allowing the introduction of a subject which may be thought to belong +to the professional student rather than to the readers of this record. +There is a great deal in medical books which it is very unbecoming to +bring before the general public,--a great deal to repel, to disgust, to +alarm, to excite unwholesome curiosity. It is not the men whose duties +have made them familiar with this class of subjects who are most likely +to offend by scenes and descriptions which belong to the physician's +private library, and not to the shelves devoted to polite literature. +Goldsmith and even Smollett, both having studied and practised medicine, +could not by any possibility have outraged all the natural feelings of +delicacy and decency as Swift and Zola have outraged them. But without +handling doubtful subjects, there are many curious medical experiences +which have interest for every one as extreme illustrations of ordinary +conditions with which all are acquainted. No one can study the now +familiar history of clairvoyance profitably who has not learned something +of the vagaries of hysteria. No one can read understandingly the life of +Cowper and that of Carlyle without having some idea of the influence of +hypochondriasis and of dyspepsia upon the disposition and intellect of +the subjects of these maladies. I need not apologize, therefore, for +giving publicity to that part of this narrative which deals with one of +the most singular maladies to be found in the records of bodily and +mental infirmities. + +The following is the account of the case as translated by Miss Vincent. +For obvious reasons the whole name was not given in the original paper, +and for similar reasons the date of the event and the birthplace of the +patient are not precisely indicated here. + +[Giornale degli Ospitali, Luglio 21, 18-.] +REMARKABLE CASE OF TARANTISM. + +"The great interest attaching to the very singular and exceptional +instance of this rare affection induces us to give a full account of the +extraordinary example of its occurrence in a patient who was the subject +of a recent medical consultation in this city. + +"Signorino M . . . Ch . . . is the only son of a gentleman +travelling in Italy at this time. He is eleven years of age, of +sanguine-nervous temperament, light hair, blue eyes, intelligent +countenance, well grown, but rather slight in form, to all appearance in +good health, but subject to certain peculiar and anomalous nervous +symptoms, of which his father gives this history. + +"Nine years ago, the father informs us, he was travelling in Italy with +his wife, this child, and a nurse. They were passing a few days in a +country village near the city of Bari, capital of the province of the +same name in the division (compartamento) of Apulia. The child was in +perfect health and had never been affected by any serious illness. On +the 10th of July he was playing out in the field near the house where the +family was staying when he was heard to scream suddenly and violently. +The nurse rushing to him found him in great pain, saying that something +had bitten him in one of his feet. A laborer, one Tommaso, ran up at the +moment and perceived in the grass, near where the boy was standing, an +enormous spider, which he at once recognized as a tarantula. He managed +to catch the creature in a large leaf, from which he was afterwards +transferred to a wide-mouthed bottle, where he lived without any food for +a month or more. The creature was covered with short hairs, and had a +pair of nipper-like jaws, with which he could inflict an ugly wound. His +body measured about an inch in length, and from the extremity of one of +the longest limbs to the other was between two and three inches. Such was +the account given by the physician to whom the peasant carried the great +spider. + +"The boy who had been bitten continued screaming violently while his +stocking was being removed and the foot examined. The place of the bite +was easily found and the two marks of the claw-like jaws already showed +the effects of the poison, a small livid circle extending around them, +with some puffy swelling. The distinguished Dr. Amadei was immediately +sent for, and applied cups over the wounds in the hope of drawing forth +the poison. In vain all his skill and efforts! Soon, ataxic (irregular) +nervous symptoms declared themselves, and it became plain that the system +had been infected by the poison. + +"The symptoms were very much like those of malignant fever, such as +distress about the region of the heart, difficulty of breathing, collapse +of all the vital powers, threatening immediate death. From these first +symptoms the child rallied, but his entire organism had been profoundly +affected by the venom circulating through it. His constitution has never +thrown off the malady resulting from this toxic (poisonous) agent. The +phenomena which have been observed in this young patient correspond so +nearly with those enumerated in the elaborate essay of the celebrated +Baglivi that one might think they had been transcribed from his pages. + +"He is very fond of solitude,--of wandering about in churchyards and +other lonely places. He was once found hiding in an empty tomb, which +had been left open. His aversion to certain colors is remarkable. +Generally speaking, he prefers bright tints to darker ones, but his likes +and dislikes are capricious, and with regard to some colors his antipathy +amounts to positive horror. Some shades have such an effect upon him +that he cannot remain in the room with them, and if he meets any one +whose dress has any of that particular color he will turn away or retreat +so as to avoid passing that person. Among these, purple and dark green +are the least endurable. He cannot explain the sensations which these +obnoxious colors produce except by saying that it is like the deadly +feeling from a blow on the epigastrium (pit of the stomach). + +"About the same season of the year at which the tarantular poisoning took +place he is liable to certain nervous seizures, not exactly like fainting +or epilepsy, but reminding the physician of those affections. All the +other symptoms are aggravated at this time. + +"In other respects than those mentioned the boy is in good health. He is +fond of riding, and has a pony on which he takes a great deal of +exercise, which seems to do him more good than any other remedy. + +"The influence of music, to which so much has been attributed by popular +belief and even by the distinguished Professor to whom we shall again +refer, has not as yet furnished any satisfactory results. If the graver +symptoms recur while the patient is under our observation, we propose to +make use of an agency discredited by modern skepticism, but deserving of +a fair trial as an exceptional remedy for an exceptional disease. + +"The following extracts from the work of the celebrated Italian physician +of the last century are given by the writer of the paper in the Giornale +in the original Latin, with a translation into Italian, subjoined. Here +are the extracts, or rather here is a selection from them, with a +translation of them into English. + +"After mentioning the singular aversion to certain colors shown by the +subject of Tarantism, Baglivi writes as follows: "'Et si astantes +incedant vestibus eo colore difusis, qui Tarantatis ingrates est, necesse +est ut ab illorum aspectu recedant; nam ad intuitum molesti coloris +angore cordis, et symptomatum recrudescantia stating corripiuntur.' (G. +Baglivi, Op. Omnia, page 614. Lugduni, 1745.) + +"That is, 'if the persons about the patient wear dresses of the color +which is offensive to him, he must get away from the sight of them, for +on seeing the obnoxious color he is at once seized with distress in the +region of the heart, and a renewal of his symptoms.' + +"As to the recurrence of the malady, Baglivi says: "'Dam calor solis +ardentius exurere incip at, quod contingit circa initia Julii et Augusti, +Tarantati lente venientem recrudescentiam veneni percipiunt.' (Ibid., +page 619.) + +"Which I render, 'When the heat of the sun begins to burn more fiercely, +which happens about the beginning of July and August, the subjects of +Tarantism perceive the gradually approaching recrudescence (returning +symptoms) of the poisoning. Among the remedies most valued by this +illustrious physician is that mentioned in the following sentence: + +"'Laudo magnopere equitationes in aere rusticano factas singulis diebus, +hord potissimum matutina, quibus equitationibus morbos chronicos pene +incurabiles protanus eliminavi.' + +"Or in translation, 'I commend especially riding on horseback in country +air, every day, by preference in the morning hours, by the aid of which +horseback riding I have driven off chronic diseases which were almost +incurable.'" + +Miss Vincent read this paper aloud to Dr. Butts, and handed it to him to +examine and consider. He listened with a grave countenance and devout +attention. + +As she finished reading her account, she exclaimed in the passionate +tones of the deepest conviction, + +"There, doctor! Have n't I found the true story of this strange visitor? +Have n't I solved the riddle of the Sphinx? Who can this man be but the +boy of that story? Look at the date of the journal when he was eleven +years old, it would make him twenty-five now, and that is just about the +age the people here think he must be of. What could account so entirely +for his ways and actions as that strange poisoning which produces the +state they call Tarantism? I am just as sure it must be that as I am +that I am alive. Oh, doctor, doctor, I must be right,--this Signprino M +. . . Ch . . . was the boy Maurice Kirkwood, and the story accounts +for everything,--his solitary habits, his dread of people,--it must be +because they wear the colors he can't bear. His morning rides on +horseback, his coming here just as the season was approaching which would +aggravate all his symptoms, does n't all this prove that I must be right +in my conjecture,--no, my conviction?" + +The doctor knew too much to interrupt the young enthusiast, and so he let +her run on until she ran down. He was more used to the rules of evidence +than she was, and could not accept her positive conclusion so readily as +she would have liked to have him. He knew that beginners are very apt to +make what they think are discoveries. But he had been an angler and knew +the meaning of a yielding rod and an easy-running reel. He said quietly, + +"You are a most sagacious young lady, and a very pretty prima facie case +it is that you make out. I can see no proof that Mr. Kirkwood is not the +same person as the M . . . Ch . . . of the medical journal,--that +is, if I accept your explanation of the difference in the initials of +these two names. Even if there were a difference, that would not +disprove their identity, for the initials of patients whose cases are +reported by their physicians are often altered for the purpose of +concealment. I do not know, however, that Mr. Kirkwood has shown any +special aversion to any particular color. It might be interesting to +inquire whether it is so, but it is a delicate matter. I don't exactly +see whose business it is to investigate Mr. Maurice Kirkwood's +idiosyncrasies and constitutional history. If he should have occasion to +send for me at any time, he might tell me all about himself, in +confidence, you know. These old accounts from Baglivi are curious and +interesting, but I am cautious about receiving any stories a hundred +years old, if they involve an improbability, as his stories about the +cure of the tarantula bite by music certainly do. I am disposed to wait +for future developments, bearing in mind, of course, the very singular +case you have unearthed. It wouldn't be very strange if our young +gentleman had to send for me before the season is over. He is out a good +deal before the dew is off the grass, which is rather risky in this +neighborhood as autumn comes on. I am somewhat curious, I confess, about +the young man, but I do not meddle where I am not asked for or wanted, +and I have found that eggs hatch just as well if you let them alone in +the nest as if you take them out and shake them every day. This is a +wonderfully interesting supposition of yours, and may prove to be +strictly in accordance with the facts. But I do not think we have all +the facts in this young man's case. If it were proved that he had an +aversion to any color, it would greatly strengthen your case. His +'antipatia,' as his man called it, must be one which covers a wide +ground, to account for his self-isolation,--and the color hypothesis +seems as plausible as any. But, my dear Miss Vincent, I think you had +better leave your singular and striking hypothesis in my keeping for a +while, rather than let it get abroad in a community like this, where so +many tongues are in active exercise. I will carefully study this paper, +if you will leave it with me, and we will talk the whole matter over. It +is a fair subject for speculation, only we must keep quiet about it." + +This long speech gave Lurida's perfervid brain time to cool off a little. +She left the paper with the doctor, telling him she would come for it the +next day, and went off to tell the result of this visit to her bosom +friend, Miss Euthymia Tower. + + + + +XV + +DR. BUTTS CALLS ON EUTHYMIA. + +The doctor was troubled in thinking over his interview with the young +lady. She was fully possessed with the idea that she had discovered the +secret which had defied the most sagacious heads of the village. It was +of no use to oppose her while her mind was in an excited state. But he +felt it his duty to guard her against any possible results of +indiscretion into which her eagerness and her theory of the equality, +almost the identity, of the sexes might betray her. Too much of the woman +in a daughter of our race leads her to forget danger. Too little of the +woman prompts her to defy it. Fortunately for this last class of women, +they are not quite so likely to be perilously seductive as their more +emphatically feminine sisters. + +Dr. Butts had known Lurida and her friend from the days of their infancy. +He had watched the development of Lurida's intelligence from its +precocious nursery-life to the full vigor of its trained faculties. He +had looked with admiration on the childish beauty of Euthymia, and had +seen her grow up to womanhood, every year making her more attractive. He +knew that if anything was to be done with his self-willed young scholar +and friend, it would be more easily effected through the medium of +Euthymia than by direct advice to the young lady herself. So the +thoughtful doctor made up his mind to have a good talk with Euthymia, and +put her on her guard, if Lurida showed any tendency to forget the +conventionalities in her eager pursuit of knowledge. + +For the doctor's horse and chaise to stop at the door of Miss Euthymia +Tower's parental home was an event strange enough to set all the tongues +in the village going. This was one of those families where illness was +hardly looked for among the possibilities of life. There were other +families where a call from the doctor was hardly more thought of than a +call from the baker. But here he was a stranger, at least on his +professional rounds, and when he asked for Miss Euthymia the servant, who +knew his face well, stared as if he had held in his hand a warrant for +her apprehension. + +Euthymia did not keep the doctor waiting very long while she made ready +to meet him. One look at her glass to make sure that a lock had not run +astray, or a ribbon got out of place, and her toilet for a morning call +was finished. Perhaps if Mr. Maurice Kirkwood had been announced, she +might have taken a second look, but with the good middle-aged, married +doctor one was enough for a young lady who had the gift of making all the +dresses she wore look well, and had no occasion to treat her chamber like +the laboratory where an actress compounds herself. + +Euthymia welcomed the doctor very heartily. She could not help +suspecting his errand, and she was very glad to have a chance to talk +over her friend's schemes and fancies with him. + +The doctor began without any roundabout prelude. + +"I want to confer with you about our friend Lurida. Does she tell you +all her plans and projects?" + +"Why, as to that, doctor, I can hardly say, positively, but I do not +believe she keeps back anything of importance from me. I know what she +has been busy with lately, and the queer idea she has got into her head. +What do you think of the Tarantula business? She has shown you the +paper, she has written, I suppose." + +"Indeed she has. It is a very curious case she has got hold of, and I do +not wonder at all that she should have felt convinced that she had come +at the true solution of the village riddle. It may be that this young +man is the same person as the boy mentioned in the Italian medical +journal. But it is very far from clear that he is so. You know all her +reasons, of course, as you have read the story. The times seem to agree +well enough. It is easy to conceive that Ch might be substituted for K +in the report. The singular solitary habits of this young man entirely +coincide with the story. If we could only find out whether he has any of +those feelings with reference to certain colors, we might guess with more +chance of guessing right than we have at present. But I don't see +exactly how we are going to submit him to examination on this point. If +he were only a chemical compound, we could analyze him. If he were only +a bird or a quadruped, we could find out his likes and dislikes. But +being, as he is, a young man, with ways of his own, and a will of his +own, which he may not choose to have interfered with, the problem becomes +more complicated. I hear that a newspaper correspondent has visited him +so as to make a report to his paper,--do you know what he found out?" + +"Certainly I do, very well. My brother has heard his own story, which +was this: He found out he had got hold of the wrong person to interview. +The young gentleman, he says, interviewed him, so that he did not learn +much about the Sphinx. But the newspaper man told Willy about the +Sphinx's library and a cabinet of coins he had; and said he should make +an article out of him, anyhow. I wish the man would take himself off. I +am afraid Lurida's love of knowledge will get her into trouble!" + +"Which of the men do you wish would take himself off?" + +"I was thinking of the newspaper man." + +She blushed a little as she said, "I can't help feeling a strange sort of +interest about the other, Mr. Kirkwood. Do you know that I met him this +morning, and had a good look at him, full in the face?" + +"Well, to be sure! That was an interesting experience. And how did you +like his looks?" + +"I thought his face a very remarkable one. But he looked very pale as he +passed me, and I noticed that he put his hand to his left side as if he +had a twinge of pain, or something of that sort,--spasm or neuralgia,--I +don't know what. I wondered whether he had what you call angina +pectoris. It was the same kind of look and movement, I remember, as you +trust, too, in my uncle who died with that complaint." + +The doctor was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "Were you dressed as +you are now?" + +"Yes, I was, except that I had a thin mantle over my shoulders. I was +out early, and I have always remembered your caution." + +"What color was your mantle?" + +"It was black. I have been over all this with Lucinda. A black mantle +on a white dress. A straw hat with an old faded ribbon. There can't be +much in those colors to trouble him, I should think, for his man wears a +black coat and white linen,--more or less white, as you must have +noticed, and he must have seen ribbons of all colors often enough. But +Lurida believes it was the ribbon, or something in the combination of +colors. Her head is full of Tarantulas and Tarantism. I fear that she +will never be easy until the question is settled by actual trial. And +will you believe it? the girl is determined in some way to test her +supposition!" + +"Believe it, Euthymia? I can believe almost anything of Lurida. She is +the most irrepressible creature I ever knew. You know as well as I do +what a complete possession any ruling idea takes of her whole nature. I +have had some fears lest her zeal might run away with her discretion. It +is a great deal easier to get into a false position than to get out of +it." + +"I know it well enough. I want you to tell me what you think about the +whole business. I don't like the look of it at all, and yet I can do +nothing with the girl except let her follow her fancy, until I can show +her plainly that she will get herself into trouble in some way or other. +But she is ingenious,--full of all sorts of devices, innocent enough in +themselves, but liable to be misconstrued. You remember how she won us +the boat-race?" + +"To be sure I do. It was rather sharp practice, but she felt she was +paying off an old score. The classical story of Atalanta, told, like +that of Eve, as illustrating the weakness of woman, provoked her to make +trial of the powers of resistance in the other sex. But it was +audacious. I hope her audacity will not go too far. You must watch her. +Keep an eye on her correspondence." + +The doctor had great confidence in the good sense of Lurida's friend. He +felt sure that she would not let Lurida commit herself by writing foolish +letters to the subject of her speculations, or similar indiscreet +performances. The boldness of young girls, who think no evil, in opening +correspondence with idealized personages is something quite astonishing +to those who have had an opportunity of knowing the facts. Lurida had +passed the most dangerous age, but her theory of the equality of the +sexes made her indifferent to the by-laws of social usage. She required +watching, and her two guardians were ready to check her, in case of need. + + + + +XVI + +MISS VINCENT WRITES A LETTER. + +Euthymia noticed that her friend had been very much preoccupied for two +or three days. She found her more than once busy at her desk, with a +manuscript before her, which she turned over and placed inside the desk, +as Euthymia entered. + +This desire of concealment was not what either of the friends expected to +see in the other. It showed that some project was under way, which, at +least in its present stage, the Machiavellian young lady did not wish to +disclose. It had cost her a good deal of thought and care, apparently, +for her waste-basket was full of scraps of paper, which looked as if they +were the remains of a manuscript like that at which she was at work. +"Copying and recopying, probably," thought Euthymia, but she was willing +to wait to learn what Lurida was busy about, though she had a suspicion +that it was something in which she might feel called upon to interest +herself. + +"Do you know what I think?" said Euthymia to the doctor, meeting him as +he left his door. "I believe Lurida is writing to this man, and I don't +like the thought of her doing such a thing. Of course she is not like +other girls in many respects, but other people will judge her by the +common rules of life." + +"I am glad that you spoke of it," answered the doctor; "she would write +to him just as quickly as to any woman of his age. Besides, under the +cover of her office, she has got into the way of writing to anybody. I +think she has already written to Mr. Kirkwood, asking him to contribute a +paper for the Society. She can find a pretext easily enough if she has +made up her mind to write. In fact, I doubt if she would trouble herself +for any pretext at all if she decided to write. Watch her well. Don't +let any letter go without seeing it, if you can help it." + +Young women are much given to writing letters to persons whom they only +know indirectly, for the most part through their books, and especially to +romancers and poets. Nothing can be more innocent and simple-hearted +than most of these letters. They are the spontaneous outflow of young +hearts easily excited to gratitude for the pleasure which some story or +poem has given them, and recognizing their own thoughts, their own +feelings, in those expressed by the author, as if on purpose for them to +read. Undoubtedly they give great relief to solitary young persons, who +must have some ideal reflection of themselves, and know not where to look +since Protestantism has taken away the crucifix and the Madonna. The +recipient of these letters sometimes wonders, after reading through one +of them, how it is that his young correspondent has managed to fill so +much space with her simple message of admiration or of sympathy. + +Lurida did not belong to this particular class of correspondents, but she +could not resist the law of her sex, whose thoughts naturally surround +themselves with superabundant drapery of language, as their persons float +in a wide superfluity of woven tissues. Was she indeed writing to this +unknown gentleman? Euthymia questioned her point-blank. + +"Are you going to open a correspondence with Mr. Maurice Kirkwood, +Lurida? You seem to be so busy writing, I can think of nothing else. Or +are you going to write a novel, or a paper for the Society,--do tell me +what you are so much taken up with." + +"I will tell you, Euthymia, if you will promise not to find fault with me +for carrying out my plan as I have made up my mind to do. You may read +this letter before I seal it, and if you find anything in it you don't +like you can suggest any change that you think will improve it. I hope +you will see that it explains itself. I don't believe that you will find +anything to frighten you in it." + +This is the letter, as submitted to Miss Tower by her friend. The bold +handwriting made it look like a man's letter, and gave it consequently a +less dangerous expression than that which belongs to the tinted and often +fragrant sheet with its delicate thready characters, which slant across +the page like an April shower with a south wind chasing it. + +ARROWHEAD VILLAGE, August--, 18--. + +MY DEAR SIR,--You will doubtless be surprised at the sight of a letter +like this from one whom you only know as the Secretary of the Pansophian +Society. There is a very common feeling that it is unbecoming in one of +my sex to address one of your own with whom she is unacquainted, unless +she has some special claim upon his attention. I am by no means disposed +to concede to the vulgar prejudice on this point. If one human being has +anything to communicate to another,--anything which deserves being +communicated,--I see no occasion for bringing in the question of sex. I +do not think the homo sum of Terence can be claimed for the male sex as +its private property on general any more than on grammatical grounds, + +I have sometimes thought of devoting myself to the noble art of healing. +If I did so, it would be with the fixed purpose of giving my whole powers +to the service of humanity. And if I should carry out that idea, should +I refuse my care and skill to a suffering fellow-mortal because that +mortal happened to be a brother, and not a sister? My whole nature +protests against such one-sided humanity! No! I am blind to all +distinctions when my eyes are opened to any form of suffering, to any +spectacle of want. + +You may ask me why I address you, whom I know little or nothing of, and +to whom such an advance may seem presumptuous and intrusive. It is +because I was deeply impressed by the paper which I attributed to +you,--that on Ocean, River, and Lake, which was read at one of our +meetings. I say that I was deeply impressed, but I do not mean this as a +compliment to that paper. I am not bandying compliments now, but +thinking of better things than praises or phrases. I was interested in +the paper, partly because I recognized some of the feelings expressed in +it as my own,--partly because there was an undertone of sadness in all +the voices of nature as you echoed them which made me sad to hear, and +which I could not help longing to cheer and enliven. I said to myself, I +should like to hold communion with the writer of that paper. I have had +my lonely hours and days, as he has had. I have had some of his +experiences in my intercourse with nature. And oh! if I could draw him +into those better human relations which await us all, if we come with the +right dispositions, I should blush if I stopped to inquire whether I +violated any conventional rule or not. + +You will understand me, I feel sure. You believe, do you not? in the +insignificance of the barrier which divides the sisterhood from the +brotherhood of mankind. You believe, do you not? that they should be +educated side by side, that they should share the same pursuits, due +regard being had to the fitness of the particular individual for hard or +light work, as it must always be, whether we are dealing with the +"stronger" or the "weaker" sex. I mark these words because, +notwithstanding their common use, they involve so much that is not true. +Stronger! Yes, to lift a barrel of flour, or a barrel of cider,--though +there have been women who could do that, and though when John Wesley was +mobbed in Staffordshire a woman knocked down three or four men, one after +another, until she was at last overpowered and nearly murdered. Talk +about the weaker sex! Go and see Miss Euthymia Tower at the gymnasium! +But no matter about which sex has the strongest muscles. Which has most +to suffer, and which has most endurance and vitality? We go through many +ordeals which you are spared, but we outlast you in mind and body. I +have been led away into one of my accustomed trains of thought, but not +so far away from it as you might at first suppose. + +My brother! Are you not ready to recognize in me a friend, an equal, a +sister, who can speak to you as if she had been reared under the same +roof? And is not the sky that covers us one roof, which makes us all one +family? You are lonely, you must be longing for some human fellowship. +Take me into your confidence. What is there that you can tell me to +which I cannot respond with sympathy? What saddest note in your +spiritual dirges which will not find its chord in mine? + +I long to know what influence has cast its shadow over your existence. I +myself have known what it is to carry a brain that never rests in a body +that is always tired. I have defied its infirmities, and forced it to do +my bidding. You have no such hindrance, if we may judge by your aspect +and habits. You deal with horses like a Homeric hero. No wild Indian +could handle his bark canoe more dexterously or more vigorously than we +have seen you handling yours. There must be some reason for your +seclusion which curiosity has not reached, and into which it is not the +province of curiosity to inquire. But in the irresistible desire which I +have to bring you into kindly relations with those around you, I must run +the risk of giving offence that I may know in what direction to look for +those restorative influences which the sympathy of a friend and sister +can offer to a brother in need of some kindly impulse to change the +course of a life which is not, which cannot be, in accordance with his +true nature. + +I have thought that there may be something in the conditions with which +you are here surrounded which is repugnant to your feelings,--something +which can be avoided only by keeping yourself apart from the people whose +acquaintance you would naturally have formed. There can hardly be +anything in the place itself, or you would not have voluntarily sought it +as a residence, even for a single season there might be individuals here +whom you would not care to meet, there must be such, but you cannot have +a personal aversion to everybody. I have heard of cases in which certain +sights and sounds, which have no particular significance for most +persons, produced feelings of distress or aversion that made, them +unbearable to the subjects of the constitutional dislike. It has +occurred to me that possibly you might have some such natural aversion to +the sounds of the street, or such as are heard in most houses, especially +where a piano is kept, as it is in fact in almost all of those in the +village. Or it might be, I imagined, that some color in the dresses of +women or the furniture of our rooms affected you unpleasantly. I know +that instances of such antipathy have been recorded, and they would +account for the seclusion of those who are subject to it. + +If there is any removable condition which interferes with your free +entrance into and enjoyment of the social life around you, tell me, I beg +of you, tell me what it is, and it shall be eliminated. Think it not +strange, O my brother, that I thus venture to introduce myself into the +hidden chambers of your life. I will never suffer myself to be +frightened from the carrying out of any thought which promises to be of +use to a fellow-mortal by a fear lest it should be considered +"unfeminine." I can bear to be considered unfeminine, but I cannot +endure to think of myself as inhuman. Can I help you, my brother'? + +Believe me your most sincere well-wisher, +LURIDA VINCENT. + +Euthymia had carried off this letter and read it by herself. As she +finished it, her feelings found expression in an old phrase of her +grandmother's, which came up of itself, as such survivals of early days +are apt to do, on great occasions. + +"Well, I never!" + +Then she loosened some button or string that was too tight, and went to +the window for a breath of outdoor air. Then she began at the beginning +and read the whole letter all over again. + +What should she do about it? She could not let this young girl send a +letter like that to a stranger of whose character little was known except +by inference,--to a young man, who would consider it a most extraordinary +advance on the part of the sender. She would have liked to tear it into +a thousand pieces, but she had no right to treat it in that way. Lurida +meant to send it the next morning, and in the mean time Euthymia had the +night to think over what she should do about it. + +There is nothing like the pillow for an oracle. There is no voice like +that which breaks the silence--of the stagnant hours of the night with +its sudden suggestions and luminous counsels. When Euthymia awoke in the +morning, her course of action was as clear before her as if it bad been +dictated by her guardian angel. She went straight over to the home of +Lurida, who was just dressed for breakfast. + +She was naturally a little surprised at this early visit. She was struck +with the excited look of Euthymia, being herself quite calm, and +contemplating her project with entire complacency. + +Euthymia began, in tones that expressed deep anxiety. + +"I have read your letter, my dear, and admired its spirit and force. It +is a fine letter, and does you great credit as an expression of the +truest human feeling. But it must not be sent to Mr. Kirkwood. If you +were sixty years old, perhaps if you were fifty, it might be admissible +to send it. But if you were forty, I should question its propriety; if +you were thirty, I should veto it, and you are but a little more than +twenty. How do you know that this stranger will not show your letter to +anybody or everybody? How do you know that he will not send it to one of +the gossiping journals like the 'Household Inquisitor'? But supposing he +keeps it to himself, which is more than you have a right to expect, what +opinion is he likely to form of a young lady who invades his privacy with +such freedom? Ten to one he will think curiosity is at the bottom of +it,--and,--come, don't be angry at me for suggesting it,--may there not +be a little of that same motive mingled with the others? No, don't +interrupt me quite yet; you do want to know whether your hypothesis is +correct. You are full of the best and kindest feelings in the world, but +your desire for knowledge is the ferment under them just now, perhaps +more than you know." + +Lurida's pale cheeks flushed and whitened more than once while her friend +was speaking. She loved her too sincerely and respected her intelligence +too much to take offence at her advice, but she could not give up her +humane and sisterly intentions merely from the fear of some awkward +consequences to herself. She had persuaded herself that she was playing +the part of a Protestant sister of charity, and that the fact of her not +wearing the costume of these ministering angels made no difference in her +relations to those who needed her aid. + +"I cannot see your objections in the light in which they appear to you," +she said gravely. "It seems to me that I give up everything when I +hesitate to help a fellow-creature because I am a woman. I am not afraid +to send this letter and take all the consequences." + +"Will you go with me to the doctor's, and let him read it in our +presence? And will you agree to abide by his opinion, if it coincides +with mine?" + +Lurida winced a little at this proposal. "I don't quite like," she said, +"showing this letter to--to" she hesitated, but it had to come out--"to a +man, that is, to another man than the one for whom it was intended." + +The neuter gender business had got a pretty damaging side-hit. + +"Well, never mind about letting him read the letter. Will you go over to +his house with me at noon, when he comes back after his morning visits, +and have a talk over the whole matter with him? You know I have +sometimes had to say must to you, Lurida, and now I say you must go to +the doctor's with me and carry that letter." + +There was no resisting the potent monosyllable as the sweet but firm +voice delivered it. At noon the two maidens rang at the doctor's door. +The servant said he had been at the house after his morning visits, but +found a hasty summons to Mr. Kirkwood, who had been taken suddenly ill +and wished to see him at once. Was the illness dangerous? The +servant-maid did n't know, but thought it was pretty bad, for Mr. Paul +came in as white as a sheet, and talked all sorts of languages which she +couldn't understand, and took on as if he thought Mr. Kirkwood was going +to die right off. + +And so the hazardous question about sending the letter was disposed of, +at least for the present. + + + + +XVII + +Dr. BUTTS'S PATIENT. + +The physician found Maurice just regaining his heat after a chill of a +somewhat severe character. He knew too well what this meant, and the +probable series of symptoms of which it was the prelude. His patient was +not the only one in the neighborhood who was attacked in this way. The +autumnal fevers to which our country towns are subject, in the place of +those "agues," or intermittents, so largely prevalent in the South and +West, were already beginning, and Maurice, who had exposed himself in the +early and late hours of the dangerous season, must be expected to go +through the regular stages of this always serious and not rarely fatal +disease. + +Paolo, his faithful servant, would fain have taken the sole charge of his +master during his illness. But the doctor insisted that he must have a +nurse to help him in his task, which was likely to be long and +exhausting. + +At the mention of the word "nurse" Paolo turned white, and exclaimed in +an agitated and thoroughly frightened way, + +"No! no nuss! no woman! She kill him! I stay by him day and night, but +don' let no woman come near him,--if you do, he die!" + +The doctor explained that he intended to send a man who was used to +taking care of sick people, and with no little effort at last succeeded +in convincing Paolo that, as he could not be awake day and night for a +fortnight or three weeks, it was absolutely necessary to call in some +assistance from without. And so Mr. Maurice Kirkwood was to play the +leading part in that drama of nature's composing called a typhoid fever, +with its regular bedchamber scenery, its properties of phials and +pill-boxes, its little company of stock actors, its gradual evolution of +a very simple plot, its familiar incidents, its emotional alternations, +and its denouement, sometimes tragic, oftener happy. + +It is needless to say that the sympathies of all the good people of the +village, residents and strangers, were actively awakened for the young +man about whom they knew so little and conjectured so much. Tokens of +their kindness came to him daily: flowers from the woods and from the +gardens; choice fruit grown in the open air or under glass, for there +were some fine houses surrounded by well-kept grounds, and greenhouses +and graperies were not unknown in the small but favored settlement. + +On all these luxuries Maurice looked with dull and languid eyes. A faint +smile of gratitude sometimes struggled through the stillness of his +features, or a murmured word of thanks found its way through his parched +lips, and he would relapse into the partial stupor or the fitful sleep in +which, with intervals of slight wandering, the slow hours dragged along +the sluggish days one after another. With no violent symptoms, but with +steady persistency, the disease moved on in its accustomed course. It +was at no time immediately threatening, but the experienced physician +knew its uncertainties only too well. He had known fever patients +suddenly seized with violent internal inflammation, and carried off with +frightful rapidity. He remembered the case of a convalescent, a young +woman who had been attacked while in apparently vigorous general health, +who, on being lifted too suddenly to a sitting position, while still +confined to her bed, fainted, and in a few moments ceased to breathe. It +may well be supposed that he took every possible precaution to avert the +accidents which tend to throw from its track a disease the regular course +of which is arranged by nature as carefully as the route of a railroad +from one city to another. The most natural interpretation which the +common observer would put upon the manifestations of one of these +autumnal maladies would be that some noxious combustible element had +found its way into the system which must be burned to ashes before the +heat which pervades the whole body can subside. Sometimes the fire may +smoulder and seem as if it were going out, or were quite extinguished, +and again it will find some new material to seize upon, and flame up as +fiercely as ever. Its coming on most frequently at the season when the +brush fires which are consuming the dead branches, and withered leaves, +and all the refuse of vegetation are sending up their smoke is +suggestive. Sometimes it seems as if the body, relieved of its effete +materials, renewed its youth after one of these quiet, expurgating, +internal fractional cremations. Lean, pallid students have found +themselves plump and blooming, and it has happened that one whose hair +was straight as gnat of an Indian has been startled to behold himself in +his mirror with a fringe of hyacinthine curls about his rejuvenated +countenance. + +There was nothing of what medical men call malignity in the case of +Maurice Kirkwood. The most alarming symptom was a profound prostration, +which at last reached such a point that he lay utterly helpless, as +unable to move without aid as the feeblest of paralytics. In this state +he lay for many days, not suffering pain, but with the sense of great +weariness, and the feeling that he should never rise from his bed again. +For the most part his intellect was unclouded when his attention was +aroused. He spoke only in whispers, a few words at a time. The doctor +felt sure, by the expression which passed over his features from time to +time, that something was worrying and oppressing him; something which he +wished to communicate, and had not the force, or the tenacity of purpose, +to make perfectly clear. His eyes often wandered to a certain desk, and +once he had found strength to lift his emaciated arm and point to it. The +doctor went towards it as if to fetch it to him, but he slowly shook his +head. He had not the power to say at that time what he wished. The next +day he felt a little less prostrated; and succeeded in explaining to the +doctor what he wanted. His words, so far as the physician could make +them out, were these which follow. Dr. Butts looked upon them as +possibly expressing wishes which would be his last, and noted them down +carefully immediately after leaving his chamber. + +"I commit the secret of my life to your charge. My whole story is told +in a paper locked in that desk. The key is--put your hand under my +pillow. If I die, let the story be known. It will show that I +was--human--and save my memory from reproach." + +He was silent for a little time. A single tear stole down his hollow +cheek. The doctor turned his head away, for his own eyes were full. But +he said to himself, "It is a good sign; I begin to feel strong hopes that +he will recover." + +Maurice spoke once more. "Doctor, I put full trust in you. You are wise +and kind. Do what you will with this paper, but open it at once and +read. I want you to know the story of my life before it is finished--if +the end is at hand. Take it with you and read it before you sleep." He +was exhausted and presently his eyes closed, but the doctor saw a +tranquil look on his features which added encouragement to his hopes. + + + + +XVIII + +MAURICE KIRKWOOD'S STORY OF HIS LIFE. + +I am an American by birth, but a large part of my life has been passed in +foreign lands. My father was a man of education, possessed of an ample +fortune; my mother was considered, a very accomplished and amiable woman. +I was their first and only child. She died while I was yet an infant. +If I remember her at all it is as a vision, more like a glimpse of a +pre-natal existence than as a part of my earthly life. At the death of +my mother I was left in the charge of the old nurse who had enjoyed her +perfect confidence. She was devoted to me, and I became absolutely +dependent on her, who had for me all the love and all the care of a +mother. I was naturally the object of the attentions and caresses of the +family relatives. I have been told that I was a pleasant, smiling +infant, with nothing to indicate any peculiar nervous susceptibility; not +afraid of strangers, but on the contrary ready to make their +acquaintance. My father was devoted to me and did all in his power to +promote my health and comfort. + +I was still a babe, often carried in arms, when the event happened which +changed my whole future and destined me to a strange and lonely +existence. I cannot relate it even now without a sense of terror. I +must force myself to recall the circumstances as told me and vaguely +remembered, for I am not willing that my doomed and wholly exceptional +life should pass away unrecorded, unexplained, unvindicated. My nature +is, I feel sure, a kind and social one, but I have lived apart, as if my +heart were filled with hatred of my fellow-creatures. If there are any +readers who look without pity, without sympathy, upon those who shun the +fellowship of their fellow men and women, who show by their downcast or +averted eyes that they dread companionship and long for solitude, I pray +them, if this paper ever reaches them, to stop at this point. Follow me +no further, for you will not believe my story, nor enter into the +feelings which I am about to reveal. But if there are any to whom all +that is human is of interest, who have felt in their own consciousness +some stirrings of invincible attraction to one individual and equally +invincible repugnance to another, who know by their own experience that +elective affinities have as their necessary counterpart, and, as it were, +their polar opposites, currents not less strong of elective repulsions, +let them read with unquestioning faith the story of a blighted life I am +about to relate, much of it, of course, received from the lips of others. + +My cousin Laura, a girl of seventeen, lately returned from Europe, was +considered eminently beautiful. It was in my second summer that she +visited my father's house, where he was living with his servants and my +old nurse, my mother having but recently left him a widower. Laura was +full of vivacity, impulsive, quick in her movements, thoughtless +occasionally, as it is not strange that a young girl of her age should +be. It was a beautiful summer day when she saw me for the first time. +My nurse had me in her arms, walking back and forward on a balcony with a +low railing, upon which opened the windows of the second story of my +father's house. While the nurse was thus carrying me, Laura came +suddenly upon the balcony. She no sooner saw me than with all the +delighted eagerness of her youthful nature she rushed toward me, and, +catching me from the nurse's arms, began tossing me after the fashion of +young girls who have been so lately playing with dolls that they feel as +if babies were very much of the same nature. The abrupt seizure +frightened me; I sprang from her arms in my terror, and fell over the +railing of the balcony. I should probably enough have been killed on the +spot but for the fact that a low thorn-bush grew just beneath the +balcony, into which I fell and thus had the violence of the shock broken. +But the thorns tore my tender flesh, and I bear to this day marks of the +deep wounds they inflicted. + +That dreadful experience is burned deep into my memory. The sudden +apparition of the girl; the sense of being torn away from the protecting +arms around me; the frantic effort to escape; the shriek that accompanied +my fall through what must have seemed unmeasurable space; the cruel +lacerations of the piercing and rending thorns,--all these fearful +impressions blended in one paralyzing terror. + +When I was taken up I was thought to be dead. I was perfectly white, and +the physician who first saw me said that no pulse was perceptible. But +after a time consciousness returned; the wounds, though painful, were +none of them dangerous, and the most alarming effects of the accident +passed away. My old nurse cared for me tenderly day and night, and my +father, who had been almost distracted in the first hours which followed +the injury, hoped and believed that no permanent evil results would be +found to result from it. My cousin Laura was of course deeply distressed +to feel that her thoughtlessness had been the cause of so grave an +accident. As soon as I had somewhat recovered she came to see me, very +penitent, very anxious to make me forget the alarm she had caused me, +with all its consequences. I was in the nursery sitting up in my bed, +bandaged, but not in any pain, as it seemed, for I was quiet and to all +appearance in a perfectly natural state of feeling. As Laura came near +me I shrieked and instantly changed color. I put my hand upon my heart +as if I had been stabbed, and fell over, unconscious. It was very much +the same state as that in which I was found immediately after my fall. + +The cause of this violent and appalling seizure was but too obvious. The +approach of the young girl and the dread that she was about to lay her +hand upon me had called up the same train of effects which the moment of +terror and pain had already occasioned. The old nurse saw this in a +moment. "Go! go!" she cried to Laura, "go, or the child will die!" Her +command did not have to be repeated. After Laura had gone I lay +senseless, white and cold as marble, for some time. The doctor soon +came, and by the use of smart rubbing and stimulants the color came back +slowly to my cheeks and the arrested circulation was again set in motion. + +It was hard to believe that this was anything more than a temporary +effect of the accident. There could be little doubt, it was thought by +the doctor and by my father, that after a few days I should recover from +this morbid sensibility and receive my cousin as other infants receive +pleasant-looking young persons. The old nurse shook her head. "The girl +will be the death of the child," she said, "if she touches him or comes +near him. His heart stopped beating just as when the girl snatched him +out of my arms, and he fell over the balcony railing." Once more the +experiment was tried, cautiously, almost insidiously. The same alarming +consequences followed. It was too evident that a chain of nervous +disturbances had been set up in my system which repeated itself whenever +the original impression gave the first impulse. I never saw my cousin +Laura after this last trial. Its result had so distressed her that she +never ventured again to show herself to me. + +If the effect of the nervous shock had stopped there, it would have been +a misfortune for my cousin and myself, but hardly a calamity. The world +is wide, and a cousin or two more or less can hardly be considered an +essential of existence. I often heard Laura's name mentioned, but never +by any one who was acquainted with all the circumstances, for it was +noticed that I changed color and caught at my breast as if I wanted to +grasp my heart in my hand whenever that fatal name was mentioned. + +Alas! this was not all. While I was suffering from the effects of my +fall among the thorns I was attended by my old nurse, assisted by another +old woman, by a physician, and my father, who would take his share in +caring for me. It was thought best to keep--me perfectly quiet, and +strangers and friends were alike excluded from my nursery, with one +exception, that my old grandmother came in now and then. With her it +seems that I was somewhat timid and shy, following her with rather +anxious eyes, as if not quite certain whether or not she was dangerous. +But one day, when I was far advanced towards recovery, my father brought +in a young lady, a relative of his, who had expressed a great desire to +see me. She was, as I have been told, a very handsome girl, of about the +same age as my cousin Laura, but bearing no personal resemblance to her +in form, features, or complexion. She had no sooner entered the room +than the same sudden changes which had followed my cousin's visit began +to show themselves, and before she had reached my bedside I was in a +state of deadly collapse, as on the occasions already mentioned. + +Some time passed before any recurrence of these terrifying seizures. A +little girl of five or six years old was allowed to come into the nursery +one day and bring me some flowers. I took them from her hand, but turned +away and shut my eyes. There was no seizure, but there was a certain +dread and aversion, nothing more than a feeling which it might be hoped +that time would overcome. Those around me were gradually finding out the +circumstances which brought on the deadly attack to which I was subject. + +The daughter of one of our near neighbors was considered the prettiest +girl of the village where we were passing the summer. She was very +anxious to see me, and as I was now nearly well it was determined that +she should be permitted to pay me a short visit. I had always delighted +in seeing her and being caressed by her. I was sleeping when she entered +the nursery and came and took a seat at my side in perfect silence. +Presently I became restless, and a moment later I opened my eyes and saw +her stooping over me. My hand went to my left breast,--the color faded +from my cheeks,--I was again the cold marble image so like death that it +had well-nigh been mistaken for it. + +Could it be possible that the fright which had chilled my blood had left +me with an unconquerable fear of woman at the period when she is most +attractive not only to adolescents, but to children of tender age, who +feel the fascination of her flowing locks, her bright eyes, her blooming +cheeks, and that mysterious magnetism of sex which draws all life into +its warm and potently vitalized atmosphere? So it did indeed seem. The +dangerous experiment could not be repeated indefinitely. It was not +intentionally tried again, but accident brought about more than one +renewal of it during the following years, until it became fully +recognized that I was the unhappy subject of a mortal dread of +woman,--not absolutely of the human female, for I had no fear of my old +nurse or of my grandmother, or of any old wrinkled face, and I had become +accustomed to the occasional meeting of a little girl or two, whom I +nevertheless regarded with a certain ill-defined feeling that there was +danger in their presence. I was sent to a boys' school very early, and +during the first ten or twelve years of my life I had rarely any occasion +to be reminded of my strange idiosyncrasy. + +As I grew out of boyhood into youth, a change came over the feelings +which had so long held complete possession of me. This was what my +father and his advisers had always anticipated, and was the ground of +their confident hope in my return to natural conditions before I should +have grown to mature manhood. + +How shall I describe the conflicts of those dreamy, bewildering, dreadful +years? Visions of loveliness haunted me sleeping and waking. Sometimes +a graceful girlish figure would so draw my eyes towards it that I lost +sight of all else, and was ready to forget all my fears and find myself +at her side, like other youths by the side of young maidens,--happy in +their cheerful companionship, while I,--I, under the curse of one +blighting moment, looked on, hopeless. Sometimes the glimpse of a fair +face or the tone of a sweet voice stirred within me all the instincts +that make the morning of life beautiful to adolescence. I reasoned with +myself: + +Why should I not have outgrown that idle apprehension which had been the +nightmare of my earlier years? Why should not the rising tide of life +have drowned out the feeble growths that infested the shallows of +childhood? How many children there are who tremble at being left alone +in the dark, but who, a few years later, will smile at their foolish +terrors and brave all the ghosts of a haunted chamber! Why should I any +longer be the slave of a foolish fancy that has grown into a half insane +habit of mind? I was familiarly acquainted with all the stories of the +strange antipathies and invincible repugnances to which others, some of +them famous men, had been subject. I said to myself, Why should not I +overcome this dread of woman as Peter the Great fought down his dread of +wheels rolling over a bridge? Was I, alone of all mankind, to be doomed +to perpetual exclusion from the society which, as it seemed to me, was +all that rendered existence worth the trouble and fatigue of slavery to +the vulgar need of supplying the waste of the system and working at the +task of respiration like the daughters of Danaus,--toiling day and night +as the worn-out sailor labors at the pump of his sinking vessel? + +Why did I not brave the risk of meeting squarely, and without regard to +any possible danger, some one of those fair maidens whose far-off smile, +whose graceful movements, at once attracted and agitated me? I can only +answer this question to the satisfaction of any really inquiring reader +by giving him the true interpretation of the singular phenomenon of which +I was the subject. For this I shall have to refer to a paper of which I +have made a copy, and which will be found included with this manuscript. +It is enough to say here, without entering into the explanation of the +fact, which will be found simple enough as seen by the light of modern +physiological science, that the "nervous disturbance" which the presence +of a woman in the flower of her age produced in my system was a sense of +impending death, sudden, overwhelming, unconquerable, appalling. It was +a reversed action of the nervous centres,--the opposite of that which +flushes the young lover's cheek and hurries his bounding pulses as he +comes into the presence of the object of his passion. No one who has +ever felt the sensation can have failed to recognize it as an imperative +summons, which commands instant and terrified submission. + +It was at this period of my life that my father determined to try the +effect of travel and residence in different localities upon my bodily and +mental condition. I say bodily as well as mental, for I was too slender +for my height and subject to some nervous symptoms which were a cause of +anxiety. That the mind was largely concerned in these there was no +doubt, but the mutual interactions of mind and body are often too complex +to admit of satisfactory analysis. Each is in part cause and each also +in part effect. + +We passed some years in Italy, chiefly in Rome, where I was placed in a +school conducted by priests, and where of course I met only those of my +own sex. There I had the opportunity of seeing the influences under +which certain young Catholics, destined for the priesthood, are led to +separate themselves from all communion with the sex associated in their +minds with the most subtle dangers to which the human soul can be +exposed. I became in some degree reconciled to the thought of exclusion +from the society of women by seeing around me so many who were +self-devoted to celibacy. The thought sometimes occurred to me whether I +should not find the best and the only natural solution of the problem of +existence, as submitted to myself, in taking upon me the vows which +settle the whole question and raise an impassable barrier between the +devotee and the object of his dangerous attraction. + +How often I talked this whole matter over with the young priest who was +at once my special instructor and my favorite companion! But accustomed +as I had become to the forms of the Roman Church, and impressed as I was +with the purity and excellence of many of its young members with whom I +was acquainted, my early training rendered it impossible for me to accept +the credentials which it offered me as authoritative. My friend and +instructor had to set me down as a case of "invincible ignorance." This +was the loop-hole through which he crept out of the prison-house of his +creed, and was enabled to look upon me without the feeling of absolute +despair with which his sterner brethren would, I fear, have regarded me. + +I have said that accident exposed me at times to the influence which I +had such reasons for dreading. Here is one example of such an +occurrence, which I relate as simply as possible, vividly as it is +impressed upon my memory. A young friend whose acquaintance I had made +in Rome asked me one day to come to his rooms and look at a cabinet of +gems and medals which he had collected. I had been but a short time in +his library when a vague sense of uneasiness came over me. My heart +became restless,--I could feel it stirring irregularly, as if it were +some frightened creature caged in my breast. There was nothing that I +could see to account for it. A door was partly open, but not so that I +could see into the next room. The feeling grew upon me of some influence +which was paralyzing my circulation. I begged my friend to open a +window. As he did so, the door swung in the draught, and I saw a +blooming young woman,--it was my friend's sister, who had been sitting +with a book in her hand, and who rose at the opening of the door. +Something had warned me of the presence of a woman, that occult and +potent aura of individuality, call it personal magnetism, spiritual +effluence, or reduce it to a simpler expression if you will; whatever it +was, it had warned me of the nearness of the dread attraction which +allured at a distance and revealed itself with all the terrors of the +Lorelei if approached too recklessly. A sign from her brother caused her +to withdraw at once, but not before I had felt the impression which +betrayed itself in my change of color, anxiety about the region of the +heart, and sudden failure as if about to fall in a deadly fainting-fit. + +Does all this seem strange and incredible to the reader of my manuscript? +Nothing in the history of life is so strange or exceptional as it seems +to those who have not made a long study of its mysteries. I have never +known just such a case as my own, and yet there must have been such, and +if the whole history of mankind were unfolded I cannot doubt that there +have been many like it. Let my reader suspend his judgment until he has +read the paper I have referred to, which was drawn up by a Committee of +the Royal Academy of the Biological Sciences. In this paper the +mechanism of the series of nervous derangements to which I have been +subject since the fatal shock experienced in my infancy is explained in +language not hard to understand. It will be seen that such a change of +polarity in the nervous centres is only a permanent form and an extreme +degree of an emotional disturbance, which as a temporary and +comparatively unimportant personal accident is far from being +uncommon,--is so frequent, in fact, that every one must have known +instances of it, and not a few must have had more or less serious +experiences of it in their own private history. + +It must not be supposed that my imagination dealt with me as I am now +dealing with the reader. I was full of strange fancies and wild +superstitions. One of my Catholic friends gave me a silver medal which +had been blessed by the Pope, and which I was to wear next my body. I +was told that this would turn black after a time, in virtue of a power +which it possessed of drawing out original sin, or certain portions of +it, together with the evil and morbid tendencies which had been engrafted +on the corrupt nature. I wore the medal faithfully, as directed, and +watched it carefully. It became tarnished and after a time darkened, but +it wrought no change in my unnatural condition. + +There was an old gypsy who had the reputation of knowing more of futurity +than she had any right to know. The story was that she had foretold the +assassination of Count Rossi and the death of Cavour. + +However that may have been, I was persuaded to let her try her black art +upon my future. I shall never forget the strange, wild look of the +wrinkled hag as she took my hand and studied its lines and fixed her +wicked old eyes on my young countenance. After this examination she +shook her head and muttered some words, which as nearly as I could get +them would be in English like these: + + Fair lady cast a spell on thee, + Fair lady's hand shall set thee free. + +Strange as it may seem, these words of a withered old creature, whose +palm had to be crossed with silver to bring forth her oracular response, +have always clung to my memory as if they were destined to fulfilment. +The extraordinary nature of the affliction to which I was subject +disposed me to believe the incredible with reference to all that relates +to it. I have never ceased to have the feeling that, sooner or later, I +should find myself freed from the blight laid upon me in my infancy. It +seems as if it would naturally come through the influence of some young +and fair woman, to whom that merciful errand should be assigned by the +Providence that governs our destiny. With strange hopes, with trembling +fears, with mingled belief and doubt, wherever I have found myself I have +sought with longing yet half-averted eyes for the "elect lady," as I have +learned to call her, who was to lift the curse from my ruined life. + +Three times I have been led to the hope, if not the belief, that I had +found the object of my superstitious belief.--Singularly enough it was +always on the water that the phantom of my hope appeared before my +bewildered vision. Once it was an English girl who was a fellow +passenger with me in one of my ocean voyages. I need not say that she +was beautiful, for she was my dream realized. I heard her singing, I saw +her walking the deck on some of the fair days when sea-sickness was +forgotten. The passengers were a social company enough, but I had kept +myself apart, as was my wont. At last the attraction became too strong +to resist any longer. "I will venture into the charmed circle if it +kills me," I said to my father. I did venture, and it did not kill me, +or I should not be telling this story. But there was a repetition of the +old experiences. I need not relate the series of alarming consequences +of my venture. The English girl was very lovely, and I have no doubt has +made some one supremely happy before this, but she was not the "elect +lady" of the prophecy and of my dreams. + +A second time I thought myself for a moment in the presence of the +destined deliverer who was to restore me to my natural place among my +fellow men and women. It was on the Tiber that I met the young maiden +who drew me once more into that inner circle which surrounded young +womanhood with deadly peril for me, if I dared to pass its limits. I was +floating with the stream in the little boat in which I passed many long +hours of reverie when I saw another small boat with a boy and a young +girl in it. The boy had been rowing, and one of his oars had slipped +from his grasp. He did not know how to paddle with a single oar, and was +hopelessly rowing round and round, his oar all the time floating farther +away from him. I could not refuse my assistance. I picked up the oar +and brought my skiff alongside of the boat. When I handed the oar to the +boy the young girl lifted her veil and thanked me in the exquisite music +of the language which + + 'Sounds as if it should be writ on satin.' + +She was a type of Italian beauty,--a nocturne in flesh and blood, if I +may borrow a term certain artists are fond of; but it was her voice which +captivated me and for a moment made me believe that I was no longer shut +off from all relations with the social life of my race. An hour later I +was found lying insensible on the floor of my boat, white, cold, almost +pulseless. It cost much patient labor to bring me back to consciousness. +Had not such extreme efforts been made, it seems probable that I should +never have waked from a slumber which was hardly distinguishable from +that of death. + +Why should I provoke a catastrophe which appears inevitable if I invite +it by exposing myself to its too well ascertained cause? The habit of +these deadly seizures has become a second nature. The strongest and the +ablest men have found it impossible to resist the impression produced by +the most insignificant object, by the most harmless sight or sound to +which they had a congenital or acquired antipathy. What prospect have I +of ever being rid of this long and deep-seated infirmity? I may well ask +myself these questions, but my answer is that I will never give up the +hope that time will yet bring its remedy. It may be that the wild +prediction which so haunts me shall find itself fulfilled. I have had of +late strange premonitions, to which if I were superstitious I could not +help giving heed. But I have seen too much of the faith that deals in +miracles to accept the supernatural in any shape,--assuredly when it +comes from an old witch-like creature who takes pay for her revelations +of the future. Be it so: though I am not superstitious, I have a right +to be imaginative, and my imagination will hold to those words of the old +zingara with an irresistible feeling that, sooner or later, they will +prove true. + +Can it be possible that her prediction is not far from its realization? +I have had both waking and sleeping visions within these last months and +weeks which have taken possession of me and filled my life with new +thoughts, new hopes, new resolves. + +Sometimes on the bosom of the lake by which I am dreaming away this +season of bloom and fragrance, sometimes in the fields or woods in a +distant glimpse, once in a nearer glance, which left me pale and +tremulous, yet was followed by a swift reaction, so that my cheeks +flushed and my pulse bounded, I have seen her who--how do I dare to tell +it so that my own eyes can read it?---I cannot help believing is to be my +deliverer, my saviour. + +I have been warned in the most solemn and impressive language by the +experts most deeply read in the laws of life and the history of its +disturbing and destroying influences, that it would be at the imminent +risk of my existence if I should expose myself to the repetition of my +former experiences. I was reminded that unexplained sudden deaths were +of constant, of daily occurrence; that any emotion is liable to arrest +the movements of life: terror, joy, good news or bad news,--anything that +reaches the deeper nervous centres. I had already died once, as Sir +Charles Napier said of himself; yes, more than once, died and been +resuscitated. The next time, I might very probably fail to get my return +ticket after my visit to Hades. It was a rather grim stroke of humor, +but I understood its meaning full well, and felt the force of its menace. + +After all, what had I to live for if the great primal instinct which +strives to make whole the half life of lonely manhood is defeated, +suppressed, crushed out of existence? Why not as well die in the attempt +to break up a wretched servitude to a perverted nervous movement as in +any other way? I am alone in the world,--alone save for my faithful +servant, through whom I seem to hold to the human race as it were by a +single filament. My father, who was my instructor, my companion, my +dearest and best friend through all my later youth and my earlier +manhood, died three years ago and left me my own master, with the means +of living as might best please my fancy. This season shall decide my +fate. One more experiment, and I shall find myself restored to my place +among my fellow-beings, or, as I devoutly hope, in a sphere where all our +mortal infirmities are past and forgotten. + +I have told the story of a blighted life without reserve, so that there +shall not remain any mystery or any dark suspicion connected with my +memory if I should be taken away unexpectedly. It has cost me an effort +to do it, but now that my life is on record I feel more reconciled to my +lot, with all its possibilities, and among these possibilities is a gleam +of a better future. I have been told by my advisers, some of them wise, +deeply instructed, and kind-hearted men, that such a life-destiny should +be related by the subject of it for the instruction of others, and +especially for the light it throws on certain peculiarities of human +character often wrongly interpreted as due to moral perversion, when they +are in reality the results of misdirected or reversed actions in some of +the closely connected nervous centres. + +For myself I can truly say that I have very little morbid sensibility +left with reference to the destiny which has been allotted to me. I have +passed through different stages of feeling with reference to it, as I +have developed from infancy to manhood. At first it was mere blind +instinct about which I had no thought, living like other infants the life +of impressions without language to connect them in series. In my boyhood +I began to be deeply conscious of the infirmity which separated me from +those around me. In youth began that conflict of emotions and impulses +with the antagonistic influence of which I have already spoken, a +conflict which has never ceased, but to which I have necessarily become +to a certain degree accustomed; and against the dangers of which I have +learned to guard myself habitually. That is the meaning of my isolation. +You, young man,--if at any time your eyes shall look upon my melancholy +record,--you at least will understand me. Does not your heart throb, in +the presence of budding or blooming womanhood, sometimes as if it "were +ready to crack" with its own excess of strain? What if instead of +throbbing it should falter, flutter, and stop as if never to beat again? +You, young woman, who with ready belief and tender sympathy will look +upon these pages, if they are ever spread before you, know what it is +when your breast heaves with uncontrollable emotion and the grip of the +bodice seems unendurable as the embrace of the iron virgin of the +Inquisition. Think what it would be if the grasp were tightened so that +no breath of air could enter your panting chest! + +Does your heart beat in the same way, young man, when your honored +friend, a venerable matron of seventy years, greets you with her kindly +smile as it does in the presence of youthful loveliness? When a pretty +child brings you her doll and looks into your eyes with artless grace and +trustful simplicity, does your pulse quicken, do you tremble, does life +palpitate through your whole being, as when the maiden of seventeen meets +your enamored sight in the glow of her rosebud beauty? Wonder not, then, +if the period of mystic attraction for you should be that of agitation, +terror, danger, to one in whom the natural current of the instincts has +had its course changed as that of a stream is changed by a convulsion of +nature, so that the impression which is new life to you is death to him. + +I am now twenty-five years old. I have reached the time of life which I +have dreamed, nay even ventured to hope, might be the limit of the +sentence which was pronounced upon me in my infancy. I can assign no +good reason for this anticipation. But in writing this paper I feel as +if I were preparing to begin a renewed existence. There is nothing for me +to be ashamed of in the story I have told. There is no man living who +would not have yielded to the sense of instantly impending death which +seized upon me under the conditions I have mentioned. Martyrs have gone +singing to their flaming shrouds, but never a man could hold his breath +long enough to kill himself; he must have rope or water, or some +mechanical help, or nature will make him draw in a breath of air, and +would make him do so though he knew the salvation of the human race would +be forfeited by that one gasp. + +This paper may never reach the eye of any one afflicted in the same way +that I have been. It probably never will; but for all that, there are +many shy natures which will recognize tendencies in themselves in the +direction of my unhappy susceptibility. Others, to whom such weakness +seems inconceivable, will find their scepticism shaken, if not removed, +by the calm, judicial statement of the Report drawn up for the Royal +Academy. It will make little difference to me whether my story is +accepted unhesitatingly or looked upon as largely a product of the +imagination. I am but a bird of passage that lights on the boughs of +different nationalities. I belong to no flock; my home may be among the +palms of Syria, the olives of Italy, the oaks of England, the elms that +shadow the Hudson or the Connecticut; I build no nest; to-day I am here, +to-morrow on the wing. + +If I quit my native land before the trees have dropped their leaves I +shall place this manuscript in the safe hands of one whom I feel sure +that I can trust; to do with it as he shall see fit. If it is only +curious and has no bearing on human welfare, he may think it well to let +it remain unread until I shall have passed away. If in his judgment it +throws any light on one of the deeper mysteries of our nature,--the +repulsions which play such a formidable part in social life, and which +must be recognized as the correlatives of the affinities that distribute +the individuals governed by them in the face of impediments which seem to +be impossibilities,--then it may be freely given to the world. + +But if I am here when the leaves are all fallen, the programme of my life +will have changed, and this story of the dead past will be illuminated by +the light of a living present which will irradiate all its saddening +features. Who would not pray that my last gleam of light and hope may be +that of dawn and not of departing day? + +The reader who finds it hard to accept the reality of a story so far from +the common range of experience is once more requested to suspend his +judgment until he has read the paper which will next be offered for his +consideration. + + + + +XIX. + +THE REPORT OF THE BIOLOGICAL COMMITTEE. + + +Perhaps it is too much to expect a reader who wishes to be entertained, +excited, amused, and does not want to work his passage through pages +which he cannot understand without some effort of his own, to read the +paper which follows and Dr. Butts's reflections upon it. If he has no +curiosity in the direction of these chapters, he can afford to leave them +to such as relish a slight flavor of science. But if he does so leave +them he will very probably remain sceptical as to the truth of the story +to which they are meant to furnish him with a key. + +Of course the case of Maurice Kirkwood is a remarkable and exceptional +one, and it is hardly probable that any reader's experience will furnish +him with its parallel. But let him look back over all his acquaintances, +if he has reached middle life, and see if he cannot recall more than one +who, for some reason or other, shunned the society of young women, as if +they had a deadly fear of their company. If he remembers any such, he +can understand the simple statements and natural reflections which are +laid before him. + +One of the most singular facts connected with the history of Maurice +Kirkwood was the philosophical equanimity with which he submitted to the +fate which had fallen upon him. He did not choose to be pumped by the +Interviewer, who would show him up in the sensational columns of his +prying newspaper. He lived chiefly by himself, as the easiest mode of +avoiding those meetings to which he would be exposed in almost every +society into which he might venture. But he had learned to look upon +himself very much as he would upon an intimate not himself,--upon a +different personality. A young man will naturally enough be ashamed of +his shyness. It is something which others believe, and perhaps he +himself thinks, he might overcome. But in the case of Maurice Kirkwood +there was no room for doubt as to the reality and gravity of the long +enduring effects of his first convulsive terror. He had accepted the +fact as he would have accepted the calamity of losing his sight or his +hearing. When he was questioned by the experts to whom his case was +submitted, he told them all that he knew about it almost without a sign +of emotion. Nature was so peremptory with him,--saying in language that +had no double meaning: "If you violate the condition on which you hold my +gift of existence I slay you on the spot,"--that he became as decisive in +his obedience as she was in her command, and accepted his fate without +repining. + +Yet it must not be thought for a moment,--it cannot be supposed,--that +he was insensible because he looked upon himself with the coolness of an +enforced philosophy. He bore his burden manfully, hard as it was to live +under it, for he lived, as we have seen, in hope. The thought of +throwing it off with his life, as too grievous to be borne, was familiar +to his lonely hours, but he rejected it as unworthy of his manhood. How +he had speculated and dreamed about it is plain enough from the paper the +reader may remember on Ocean, River, and Lake. + +With these preliminary hints the paper promised is submitted to such as +may find any interest in them. + + ACCOUNT OF A CASE OF GYNOPHOBIA. + + WITH REMARKS. + +Being the Substance of a Report to the Royal Academy of the Biological +Sciences by a Committee of that Institution. + +"The singular nature of the case we are about to narrate and comment upon +will, we feel confident, arrest the attention of those who have learned +the great fact that Nature often throws the strongest light upon her laws +by the apparent exceptions and anomalies which from time to time are +observed. We have done with the lusus naturae of earlier generations. +We pay little attention to the stories of 'miracles,' except so far as we +receive them ready-made at the hands of the churches which still hold to +them. Not the less do we meet with strange and surprising facts, which a +century or two ago would have been handled by the clergy and the courts, +but today are calmly recorded and judged by the best light our knowledge +of the laws of life can throw upon them. It must be owned that there are +stories which we can hardly dispute, so clear and full is the evidence in +their support, which do, notwithstanding, tax our faith and sometimes +leave us sceptical in spite of all the testimony which supports them. + +"In this category many will be disposed to place the case we commend to +the candid attention of the Academy. If one were told that a young man, +a gentleman by birth and training, well formed, in apparently perfect +health, of agreeable physiognomy and manners, could not endure the +presence of the most attractive young woman, but was seized with deadly +terror and sudden collapse of all the powers of life, if he came into her +immediate presence; if it were added that this same young man did not +shrink from the presence of an old withered crone; that he had a certain +timid liking for little maidens who had not yet outgrown the company of +their dolls, the listener would be apt to smile, if he did not laugh, at +the absurdity of the fable. Surely, he would say, this must be the +fiction of some fanciful brain, the whim of some romancer, the trick of +some playwright. It would make a capital farce, this idea, carried out. +A young man slighting the lovely heroine of the little comedy and making +love to her grandmother! This would, of course, be overstating the truth +of the story, but to such a misinterpretation the plain facts lend +themselves too easily. We will relate the leading circumstances of the +case, as they were told us with perfect simplicity and frankness by the +subject of an affection which, if classified, would come under the +general head of Antipathy, but to which, if we give it a name, we shall +have to apply the term Gynophobia, or Fear of Woman." + +Here follows the account furnished to the writer of the paper, which is +in all essentials identical with that already laid before the reader. + +"Such is the case offered to our consideration. Assuming its +truthfulness in all its particulars, it remains to see in the first place +whether or not it is as entirely exceptional and anomalous as it seems at +first sight, or whether it is only the last term of a series of cases +which in their less formidable aspect are well known to us in literature, +in the records of science, and even in our common experience. + +"To most of those among us the explanations we are now about to give are +entirely superfluous. But there are some whose chief studies have been +in different directions, and who will not complain if certain facts are +mentioned which to the expert will seem rudimentary, and which hardly +require recapitulation to those who are familiarly acquainted with the +common text-books. + +"The heart is the centre of every living movement in the higher animals, +and in man, furnishing in varying amount, or withholding to a greater or +less extent, the needful supplies to all parts of the system. If its +action is diminished to a certain degree, faintness is the immediate +consequence; if it is arrested, loss of consciousness; if its action is +not soon restored, death, of which fainting plants the white flag, +remains in possession of the system. + +"How closely the heart is under the influence of the emotions we need not +go to science to learn, for all human experience and all literature are +overflowing with evidence that shows the extent of this relation. +Scripture is full of it; the heart in Hebrew poetry represents the entire +life, we might almost say. Not less forcible is the language of +Shakespeare, as for instance, in 'Measure for Measure:' + + "'Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, + Making it both unable for itself + And dispossessing all my other parts + Of necessary fitness?' + +"More especially is the heart associated in every literature with the +passion of love. A famous old story is that of Galen, who was called to +the case of a young lady long ailing, and wasting away from some cause +the physicians who had already seen her were unable to make out. The +shrewd old practitioner suspected that love was at the bottom of the +young lady's malady. Many relatives and friends of both sexes, all of +them ready with their sympathy, came to see her. The physician sat by her +bedside during one of these visits, and in an easy, natural way took her +hand and placed a finger on her pulse. It beat quietly enough until a +certain comely young gentleman entered the apartment, when it suddenly +rose infrequency, and at the same moment her hurried breathing, her +changing color, pale and flushed by turns, betrayed the profound +agitation his presence excited. This was enough for the sagacious Greek; +love was the disease, the cure of which by its like may be claimed as an +anticipation of homoeopathy. In the frontispiece to the fine old 'Junta' +edition of the works of Galen, you may find among the wood-cuts a +representation of the interesting scene, with the title Amantas +Dignotio,--the diagnosis, or recognition, of the lover. + +"Love has many languages, but the heart talks through all of them. The +pallid or burning cheek tells of the failing or leaping fountain which +gives it color. The lovers at the 'Brookside' could hear each other's +hearts beating. When Genevieve, in Coleridge's poem, forgot herself, and +was beforehand with her suitor in her sudden embrace, + + "'T was partly love and partly fear, + And partly 't was a bashful art, + That I might rather feel than see + The swelling of her heart' + +"Always the heart, whether its hurried action is seen, or heard, or felt. +But it is not always in this way that the 'deceitful' organ treats the +lover. + + "'Faint heart never won fair lady.' + +"This saying was not meant, perhaps, to be taken literally, but it has +its literal truth. Many a lover has found his heart sink within +him,--lose all its force, and leave him weak as a child in his emotion at +the sight of the object of his affections. When Porphyro looked upon +Madeline at her prayers in the chapel, it was too much for him: + + "'She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest, + Save wings, for heaven:--Porphyro grew faint, + She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from earthly taint.' + +"And in Balzac's novel, 'Cesar Birotteau,' the hero of the story 'fainted +away for-joy at the moment when, under a linden-tree, at Sceaux, +Constance-Barbe-Josephine accepted him as her future husband.' + +"One who faints is dead if he does not I come to,' and nothing is more +likely than that too susceptible lovers have actually gone off in this +way. Everything depends on how the heart behaves itself in these and +similar trying moments. The mechanism of its actions becomes an +interesting subject, therefore, to lovers of both sexes, and to all who +are capable of intense emotions. + +"The heart is a great reservoir, which distributes food, drink, air, and +heat to every part of the system, in exchange for its waste material. It +knocks at the gate of every organ seventy or eighty times in a minute, +calling upon it to receive its supplies and unload its refuse. Between +it and the brain there is the closest relation. The emotions, which act +upon it as we have seen, govern it by a mechanism only of late years +thoroughly understood. This mechanism can be made plain enough to the +reader who is not afraid to believe that he can understand it. + +"The brain, as all know, is the seat of ideas, emotions, volition. It is +the great central telegraphic station with which many lesser centres are +in close relation, from which they receive, and to which they transmit, +their messages. The heart has its own little brains, so to speak,--small +collections of nervous substance which govern its rhythmical motions +under ordinary conditions. But these lesser nervous centres are to a +large extent dominated by influences transmitted from certain groups of +nerve-cells in the brain and its immediate dependencies. + +"There are two among the special groups of nerve-cells which produce +directly opposite effects. One of these has the power of accelerating +the action of the heart, while the other has the power of retarding or +arresting this action. One acts as the spur, the other as the bridle. +According as one or the other predominates, the action of the heart will +be stimulated or restrained. Among the great modern discoveries in +physiology is that of the existence of a distinct centre of inhibition, +as the restraining influence over the heart is called. + +"The centre of inhibition plays a terrible part in the history of +cowardice and of unsuccessful love. No man can be brave without blood to +sustain his courage, any more than he can think, as the German +materialist says, not absurdly, without phosphorus. The fainting lover +must recover his circulation, or his lady will lend him her +smelling-salts and take a gallant with blood in his cheeks. Porphyro got +over his faintness before he ran away with Madeline, and Cesar Birotteau +was an accepted lover when he swooned with happiness: but many an officer +has been cashiered, and many a suitor has been rejected, because the +centre of inhibition has got the upper hand of the centre of stimulation. + +"In the well-known cases of deadly antipathy which have been recorded, +the most frequent cause has been the disturbed and depressing influence +of the centre of inhibition. Fainting at the sight of blood is one of +the commonest examples of this influence. A single impression, in a very +early period of atmospheric existence,--perhaps, indirectly, before that +period, as was said to have happened in the case of James the First of +England,--may establish a communication between this centre and the heart +which will remain open ever afterwards. How does a footpath across a +field establish itself? Its curves are arbitrary, and what we call +accidental, but one after another follows it as if he were guided by a +chart on which it was laid down. So it is with this dangerous transit +between the centre of inhibition and the great organ of life. If once +the path is opened by the track of some profound impression, that same +impression, if repeated, or a similar one, is likely to find the old +footmarks and follow them. Habit only makes the path easier to traverse, +and thus the unreasoning terror of a child, of an infant, may perpetuate +itself in a timidity which shames the manhood of its subject. + +"The case before us is an exceptional and most remarkable example of the +effect of inhibition on the heart. + +"We will not say that we believe it to be unique in the history of the +human race; on the contrary, we do not doubt that there have been similar +cases, and that in some rare instances sudden death has been the +consequence of seizures like that of the subject of this Report. The case +most like it is that of Colone Townsend, which is too well known to +require any lengthened description in this paper. It is enough to recall +the main facts. He could by a voluntary effort suspend the action of his +heart for a considerable period, during which he lay like one dead, +pulseless, and without motion. After a time the circulation returned, +and he does not seem to have been the worse for his dangerous, or +seemingly dangerous, experiment. But in his case it was by an act of the +will that the heart's action was suspended. In the case before us it is +an involuntary impulse transmitted from the brain to the inhibiting +centre, which arrests the cardiac movements. + +"What is like to be the further history of the case? + +"The subject of this anomalous affliction is now more than twenty years +old. The chain of nervous actions has become firmly established. It +might have been hoped that the changes of adolescence would have effected +a transformation of the perverted instinct. On the contrary, the whole +force of this instinct throws itself on the centre of inhibition, instead +of quickening the heart-beats, and sending the rush of youthful blood +with fresh life through the entire system to the throbbing finger-tips. + +"Is it probable that time and circumstances will alter a habit of nervous +interactions so long established? We are disposed to think that there is +a chance of its being broken up. And we are not afraid to say that we +suspect the old gypsy woman, whose prophecy took such hold of the +patient's imagination, has hit upon the way in which the 'spell,' as she +called it, is to be dissolved. She must, in all probability, have had a +hint of the 'antipatia' to which the youth before her was a victim, and +its cause, and if so, her guess as to the probable mode in which the +young man would obtain relief from his unfortunate condition was the one +which would naturally suggest itself. + +"If once the nervous impression which falls on the centre of inhibition +can be made to change its course, so as to follow its natural channel, it +will probably keep to that channel ever afterwards. And this will, it is +most likely, be effected by some sudden, unexpected impression. If he +were drowning, and a young woman should rescue him, it is by no means +impossible that the change in the nervous current we have referred to +might be brought about as rapidly, as easily, as the reversal of the +poles in a magnet, which is effected in an instant. But he cannot be +expected to throw himself into the water just at the right moment when +the 'fair lady' of the gitana's prophecy is passing on the shore. +Accident may effect the cure which art seems incompetent to perform. It +would not be strange if in some future seizure he should never come back +to consciousness. But it is quite conceivable, on the other hand, that a +happier event may occur, that in a single moment the nervous polarity may +be reversed, the whole course of his life changed, and his past terrible +experiences be to him like a scarce-remembered dream. + +"This is one, of those cases in which it is very hard to determine the +wisest course to be pursued. The question is not unlike that which +arises in certain cases of dislocation of the bones of the neck. Shall +the unfortunate sufferer go all his days with his face turned far round +to the right or the left, or shall an attempt be made to replace the +dislocated bones? an attempt which may succeed, or may cause instant +death. The patient must be consulted as to whether he will take the +chance. The practitioner may be unwilling to risk it, if the patient +consents. Each case must be judged on its own special grounds. We +cannot think that this young man is doomed to perpetual separation from +the society of womanhood during the period of its bloom and attraction. +But to provoke another seizure after his past experiences would be too +much like committing suicide. We fear that we must trust to the chapter +of accidents. The strange malady--for such it is--has become a second +nature, and may require as energetic a shock to displace it as it did to +bring it into existence. Time alone can solve this question, on which +depends the well-being and, it may be, the existence of a young man every +way fitted to be happy, and to give happiness, if restored to his true +nature." + + + + +XX. + +DR. BUTTS REFLECTS. + +Dr. Butts sat up late at night reading these papers and reflecting upon +them. He was profoundly impressed and tenderly affected by the entire +frankness, the absence of all attempt at concealment, which Maurice +showed in placing these papers at his disposal. He believed that his +patient would recover from this illness for which he had been taking care +of him. He thought deeply and earnestly of what he could do for him +after he should have regained his health and strength. + +There were references, in Maurice's own account of himself, which the +doctor called to mind with great interest after reading his brief +autobiography. Some one person--some young woman, it must be--had +produced a singular impression upon him since those earlier perilous +experiences through which he had passed. The doctor could not help +thinking of that meeting with Euthymia of which she had spoken to him. +Maurice, as she said, turned pale,--he clapped his hand to his breast. +He might have done so if he had met her chambermaid, or any straggling +damsel of the village. But Euthymia was not a young woman to be looked +upon with indifference. She held herself like a queen, and walked like +one, not a stage queen, but one born and bred to self-reliance, and +command of herself as well as others. One could not pass her without +being struck with her noble bearing and spirited features. If she had +known how Maurice trembled as he looked upon her, in that conflict of +attraction and uncontrollable dread,--if she had known it! But what, +even then, could she have done? Nothing but get away from him as fast as +she could. As it was, it was a long time before his agitation subsided, +and his heart beat with its common force and frequency. + +Dr. Butts was not a male gossip nor a matchmaking go-between. But he +could not help thinking what a pity it was that these two young persons +could not come together as other young people do in the pairing season, +and find out whether they cared for and were fitted for each other. He +did not pretend to settle this question in his own mind, but the thought +was a natural one. And here was a gulf between them as deep and wide as +that between Lazarus and Dives. Would it ever be bridged over? This +thought took possession of the doctor's mind, and he imagined all sorts +of ways of effecting some experimental approximation between Maurice and +Euthymia. From this delicate subject he glanced off to certain general +considerations suggested by the extraordinary history he had been +reading. He began by speculating as to the possibility of the personal +presence of an individual making itself perceived by some channel other +than any of the five senses. The study of the natural sciences teaches +those who are devoted to them that the most insignificant facts may lead +the way to the discovery of the most important, all-pervading laws of the +universe. From the kick of a frog's hind leg to the amazing triumphs +which began with that seemingly trivial incident is a long, a very long +stride if Madam Galvani had not been in delicate health, which was the +occasion of her having some frog-broth prepared for her, the world of +to-day might not be in possession of the electric telegraph and the light +which blazes like the sun at high noon. A common-looking occurrence, one +seemingly unimportant, which had hitherto passed unnoticed with the +ordinary course of things, was the means of introducing us to a new and +vast realm of closely related phenomena. It was like a key that we might +have picked up, looking so simple that it could hardly fit any lock but +one of like simplicity, but which should all at once throw back the bolts +of the one lock which had defied the most ingenious of our complex +implements and open our way into a hitherto unexplored territory. + +It certainly was not through the eye alone that Maurice felt the +paralyzing influence. He could contemplate Euthymia from a distance, as +he did on the day of the boat-race, without any nervous disturbance. A +certain proximity was necessary for the influence to be felt, as in the +case of magnetism and electricity. An atmosphere of danger surrounded +every woman he approached during the period when her sex exercises its +most powerful attractions. How far did that atmosphere extend, and +through what channel did it act? + +The key to the phenomena of this case, he believed, was to be found in a +fact as humble as that which gave birth to the science of galvanism and +its practical applications. The circumstances connected with the very +common antipathy to cats were as remarkable in many points of view as the +similar circumstances in the case of Maurice Kirkwood. The subjects of +that antipathy could not tell what it was which disturbed their nervous +system. All they knew was that a sense of uneasiness, restlessness, +oppression, came over them in the presence of one of these animals. He +remembered the fact already mentioned, that persons sensitive to this +impression can tell by their feelings if a cat is concealed in the +apartment in which they may happen to be. It may be through some +emanation. It may be through the medium of some electrical disturbance. +What if the nerve-thrills passing through the whole system of the animal +propagate themselves to a certain distance without any more regard to +intervening solids than is shown by magnetism? A sieve lets sand pass +through it; a filter arrests sand, but lets fluids pass, glass holds +fluids, but lets light through; wood shuts out light, but magnetic +attraction goes through it as sand went through the sieve. No good +reasons can be given why the presence of a cat should not betray itself +to certain organizations, at a distance, through the walls of a box in +which the animal is shut up. We need not disbelieve the stories which +allege such an occurrence as a fact and a not very infrequent one. + +If the presence of a cat can produce its effects under these +circumstances, why should not that of a human being under similar +conditions, acting on certain constitutions, exercise its specific +influence? The doctor recalled a story told him by one of his friends, a +story which the friend himself heard from the lips of the distinguished +actor, the late Mr. Fechter. The actor maintained that Rachel had no +genius as an actress. It was all Samson's training and study, according +to him, which explained the secret of her wonderful effectiveness on the +stage. But magnetism, he said,--magnetism, she was full of. He declared +that he was made aware of her presence on the stage, when he could not +see her or know of her presence otherwise, by this magnetic emanation. +The doctor took the story for what it was worth. There might very +probably be exaggeration, perhaps high imaginative coloring about it, but +it was not a whit more unlikely than the cat-stories, accepted as +authentic. He continued this train of thought into further developments. +Into this series of reflections we will try to follow him. + +What is the meaning of the halo with which artists have surrounded the +heads of their pictured saints, of the aureoles which wraps them like a +luminous cloud? Is it not a recognition of the fact that these holy +personages diffuse their personality in the form of a visible emanation, +which reminds us of Milton's definition of light: + + "Bright effluence of bright essence increate"? + +The common use of the term influence would seem to imply the existence of +its correlative, effluence. There is no good reason that I can see, the +doctor said to himself, why among the forces which work upon the nervous +centres there should not be one which acts at various distances from its +source. It may not be visible like the "glory" of the painters, it may +not be appreciable by any one of the five senses, and yet it may be felt +by the person reached by it as much as if it were a palpable +presence,--more powerfully, perhaps, from the mystery which belongs to +its mode of action. + +Why should not Maurice have been rendered restless and anxious by the +unseen nearness of a young woman who was in the next room to him, just as +the persons who have the dread of cats are made conscious of their +presence through some unknown channel? Is it anything strange that the +larger and more powerful organism should diffuse a consciousness of its +presence to some distance as well as the slighter and feebler one? Is it +strange that this mysterious influence or effluence should belong +especially or exclusively to the period of complete womanhood in +distinction from that of immaturity or decadence? On the contrary, it +seems to be in accordance with all the analogies of nature,--analogies +too often cruel in the sentence they pass upon the human female. + +Among the many curious thoughts which came up in the doctor's mind was +this, which made him smile as if it were a jest, but which he felt very +strongly had its serious side, and was involved with the happiness or +suffering of multitudes of youthful persons who die without telling their +secret: + +How many young men have a mortal fear of woman, as woman, which they +never overcome, and in consequence of which the attraction which draws +man towards her, as strong in them as in others,--oftentimes, in virtue +of their peculiarly sensitive organizations, more potent in them than in +others of like age and conditions,--in consequence of which fear, this +attraction is completely neutralized, and all the possibilities of +doubled and indefinitely extended life depending upon it are left +unrealized! Think what numbers of young men in Catholic countries devote +themselves to lives of celibacy. Think how many young men lose all their +confidence in the presence of the young woman to whom they are most +attracted, and at last steal away from a companionship which it is +rapture to dream of and torture to endure, so does the presence of the +beloved object paralyze all the powers of expression. Sorcerers have in +all time and countries played on the hopes and terrors of lovers. Once +let loose a strong impulse on the centre of inhibition, and the warrior +who had faced bayonets and batteries becomes a coward whom the +well-dressed hero of the ball-room and leader of the German will put to +ignominious flight in five minutes of easy, audacious familiarity with +his lady-love. + +Yes, the doctor went on with his reflections, I do not know that I have +seen the term Gynophobia before I opened this manuscript, but I have seen +the malady many times. Only one word has stood between many a pair of +young people and their lifelong happiness, and that word has got as far +as the lips, but the lips trembled and would not, could not, shape that +little word. All young women are not like Coleridge's Genevieve, who +knew how to help her lover out of his difficulty, and said yes before he +had asked for an answer. So the wave which was to have wafted them on to +the shore of Elysium has just failed of landing them, and back they have +been drawn into the desolate ocean to meet no more on earth. + +Love is the master-key, he went on thinking, love is the master-key that +opens the gates of happiness, of hatred, of jealousy, and, most easily of +all, the gate of fear. How terrible is the one fact of beauty!--not only +the historic wonder of beauty, that "burnt the topless towers of Ilium" +for the smile of Helen, and fired the palaces of Babylon by the hand of +Thais, but the beauty which springs up in all times and places, and +carries a torch and wears a serpent for a wreath as truly as any of the +Eumenides. Paint Beauty with her foot upon a skull and a dragon coiled +around her. + +The doctor smiled at his own imposing classical allusions and pictorial +imagery. Drifting along from thought to thought, he reflected on the +probable consequences of the general knowledge of Maurice Kirkwood's +story, if it came before the public. + +What a piece of work it would make among the lively youths of the +village, to be sure! What scoffing, what ridicule, what embellishments, +what fables, would follow in the trail of the story! If the Interviewer +got hold of it, how "The People's Perennial and Household Inquisitor" +would blaze with capitals in its next issue! The young fellows' of the +place would be disposed to make fun of the whole matter. The young +girls-the doctor hardly dared to think what would happen when the story +got about among them. "The Sachem" of the solitary canoe, the bold +horseman, the handsome hermit,--handsome so far as the glimpses they had +got of him went,--must needs be an object of tender interest among them, +now that he was ailing, suffering, in danger of his life, away from +friends,--poor fellow! Little tokens of their regard had reached his +sick-chamber; bunches of flowers with dainty little notes, some of them +pinkish, some three-cornered, some of them with brief messages, others +"criss-crossed," were growing more frequent as it was understood that the +patient was likely to be convalescent before many days had passed. If it +should come to be understood that there was a deadly obstacle to their +coming into any personal relations with him, the doctor had his doubts +whether there were not those who would subject him to the risk; for there +were coquettes in the village,--strangers, visitors, let us hope,--who +would sacrifice anything or anybody to their vanity and love of conquest. + + + + +XXI + +AN INTIMATE CONVERSATION. + +The illness from which Maurice had suffered left him in a state of +profound prostration. The doctor, who remembered the extreme danger of +any overexertion in such cases, hardly allowed him to lift his head from +the pillow. But his mind was gradually recovering its balance, and he +was able to hold some conversation with those about him. His faithful +Paolo had grown so thin in waiting upon him and watching with him that +the village children had to take a second look at his face when they +passed him to make sure that it was indeed their old friend and no other. +But as his master advanced towards convalescence and the doctor assured +him that he was going in all probability to get well, Paolo's face began +to recover something of its old look and expression, and once more his +pockets filled themselves with comfits for his little circle of +worshipping three and four year old followers. + +"How is Mr. Kirkwood?" was the question with which he was always greeted. +In the worst periods of the fever be rarely left his master. When he +did, and the question was put to him, he would shake his head sadly, +sometimes without a word, sometimes with tears and sobs and faltering +words,--more like a brokenhearted child than a stalwart man as he was, +such a man as soldiers are made of in the great Continental armies. + +"He very bad,--he no eat nothing,--he--no say nothing,--he never be no +better," and all his Southern nature betrayed itself in a passionate +burst of lamentation. But now that he began to feel easy about his +master, his ready optimism declared itself no less transparently. + +"He better every day now. He get well in few weeks, sure. You see him +on hoss in little while." The kind-hearted creature's life was bound up +in that of his "master," as he loved to call him, in sovereign disregard +of the comments of the natives, who held themselves too high for any such +recognition of another as their better. They could not understand how +he, so much their superior in bodily presence, in air and manner, could +speak of the man who employed him in any other way than as "Kirkwood," +without even demeaning himself so far as to prefix a "Mr." to it. But +"my master" Maurice remained for Paolo in spite of the fact that all men +are born free and equal. And never was a servant more devoted to a +master than was Paolo to Maurice during the days of doubt and danger. +Since his improvement Maurice insisted upon his leaving his chamber and +getting out of the house, so as to breathe the fresh air of which he was +in so much need. It worried him to see his servant returning after too +short an absence. The attendant who had helped him in the care of the +patient was within call, and Paolo was almost driven out of the house by +the urgency of his master's command that he should take plenty of +exercise in the open air. + +Notwithstanding the fact of Maurice's improved condition, although the +force of the disease had spent itself, the state of weakness to which he +had been reduced was a cause of some anxiety, and required great +precautions to be taken. He lay in bed, wasted, enfeebled to such a +degree that he had to be cared for very much as a child is tended. +Gradually his voice was coming back to him, so that he could hold some +conversation, as was before mentioned, with those about him. The doctor +waited for the right moment to make mention of the manuscript which +Maurice had submitted to him. Up to this time, although it had been +alluded to and the doctor had told him of the intense interest with which +he had read it, he had never ventured to make it the subject of any long +talk, such as would be liable to fatigue his patient. But now he thought +the time had come. + +"I have been thinking," the doctor said, "of the singular seizures to +which you are liable, and as it is my business not merely to think about +such cases, but to do what I can to help any who may be capable of +receiving aid from my art, I wish to have some additional facts about +your history. And in the first place, will you allow me to ask what led +you to this particular place? It is so much less known to the public at +large than many other resorts that we naturally ask, What brings this or +that new visitor among us? We have no ill-tasting, natural spring of bad +water to be analyzed by the state chemist and proclaimed as a specific. +We have no great gambling-houses, no racecourse (except that fox boats on +the lake); we have no coaching-club, no great balls, few lions of any +kind, so we ask, What brings this or that stranger here? And I think I +may venture to ask you whether any, special motive brought you among us, +or whether it was accident that determined your coming to this place." + +"Certainly, doctor," Maurice answered, "I will tell you with great +pleasure. Last year I passed on the border of a great river. The year +before I lived in a lonely cottage at the side of the ocean. I wanted +this year to be by a lake. You heard the paper read at the meeting of +your society, or at least you heard of it,--for such matters are always +talked over in a village like this. You can judge by that paper, or +could, if it were before you, of the frame of mind in which I came here. +I was tired of the sullen indifference of the ocean and the babbling +egotism of the river, always hurrying along on its own private business. +I wanted the dreamy stillness of a large, tranquil sheet of water that +had nothing in particular to do, and would leave me to myself and my +thoughts. I had read somewhere about the place, and the old Anchor +Tavern, with its paternal landlord and motherly landlady and +old-fashioned household, and that, though it was no longer open as a +tavern, I could find a resting-place there early in the season, at least +for a few days, while I looked about me for a quiet place in which I +might pass my summer. I have found this a pleasant residence. By being +up early and out late I have kept myself mainly in the solitude which has +become my enforced habit of life. The season has gone by too swiftly for +me since my dream has become a vision." + +The doctor was sitting with his hand round Maurice's wrist, three fingers +on his pulse. As he spoke these last words he noticed that the pulse +fluttered a little,--beat irregularly a few times; intermitted; became +feeble and thready; while his cheek grew whiter than the pallid +bloodlessness of his long illness had left it. + +"No more talk, now," he said. "You are too tired to be using your voice. +I will hear all the rest another time." + +The doctor had interrupted Maurice at an interesting point. What did he +mean by saying that his dream had become a vision? This is what the +doctor was naturally curious, and professionally anxious, to know. But +his hand was still on his patient's pulse, which told him unmistakably +that the heart had taken the alarm and was losing its energy under the +depressing nervous influence. Presently, however, it recovered its +natural force and rhythm, and a faint flush came back to the pale cheek. +The doctor remembered the story of Galen, and the young maiden whose +complaint had puzzled the physicians. + +The next day his patient was well enough to enter once more into +conversation. + +"You said something about a dream of yours which had become a vision," +said the doctor, with his fingers on his patient's wrist, as before. He +felt the artery leap, under his pressure, falter a little, stop, then +begin again, growing fuller in its beat. The heart had felt the pull of +the bridle, but the spur had roused it to swift reaction. + +"You know the story of my past life, doctor," Maurice answered; "and, I +will tell you what is the vision which has taken the place of my dreams. +You remember the boat-race? I watched it from a distance, but I held a +powerful opera-glass in my hand, which brought the whole crew of the +young ladies' boat so close to me that I could see the features, the +figures, the movements, of every one of the rowers. I saw the little +coxswain fling her bouquet in the track of the other boat,--you remember +how the race was lost and won,--but I saw one face among those young +girls which drew me away from all the rest. It was that of the young lady +who pulled the bow oar, the captain of the boat's crew. I have since +learned her name, you know it well,--I need not name her. Since that day +I have had many distant glimpses of her; and once I met her so squarely +that the deadly sensation came over me, and I felt that in another moment +I should fall senseless at her feet. But she passed on her way and I on +mine, and the spasm which had clutched my heart gradually left it, and I +was as well as before. You know that young lady, doctor?" + +"I do; and she is a very noble creature. You are not the first young man +who has been fascinated, almost at a glance, by Miss Euthymia Tower. And +she is well worth knowing more intimately." + +The doctor gave him a full account of the young lady, of her early days, +her character, her accomplishments. To all this he listened devoutly, +and when the doctor left him he said to himself, "I will see her and +speak with her, if it costs me my life." + + + + +XXII + +EUTHYMIA. + +"The Wonder" of the Corinna Institute had never willingly made a show of +her gymnastic accomplishments. Her feats, which were so much admired, +were only her natural exercise. Gradually the dumb-bells others used +became too light for her, the ropes she climbed too short, the clubs she +exercised with seemed as if they were made of cork instead of being heavy +wood, and all the tests and meters of strength and agility had been +strained beyond the standards which the records of the school had marked +as their historic maxima. It was not her fault that she broke a +dynamometer one day; she apologized for it, but the teacher said he +wished he could have a dozen broken every year in the same way. The +consciousness of her bodily strength had made her very careful in her +movements. The pressure of her hand was never too hard for the tenderest +little maiden whose palm was against her own. So far from priding +herself on her special gifts, she was disposed to be ashamed of them. +There were times and places in which she could give full play to her +muscles without fear or reproach. She had her special costume for the +boat and for the woods. She would climb the rugged old hemlocks now and +then for the sake of a wide outlook, or to peep into the large nest where +a hawk, or it may be an eagle, was raising her little brood of +air-pirates. + +There were those who spoke of her wanderings in lonely places as an +unsafe exposure. One sometimes met doubtful characters about the +neighborhood, and stories were--told of occurrences which might well +frighten a young girl, and make her cautious of trusting herself alone in +the wild solitudes which surrounded the little village.. Those who knew +Euthymia thought her quite equal to taking care of herself. Her very +look was enough to ensure the respect of any vagabond who might cross her +path, and if matters came to the worst she would prove as dangerous as a +panther. + +But it was a pity to associate this class of thoughts with a noble +specimen of true womanhood. Health, beauty, strength, were fine +qualities, and in all these she was rich. She enjoyed all her natural +gifts, and thought little about them. Unwillingly, but over-persuaded by +some of her friends, she had allowed her arm and hand to be modelled. +The artists who saw the cast wondered if it would be possible to get the +bust of the maiden from whom it was taken. Nobody would have dared to +suggest such an idea to her except Lurida. For Lurida sex was a trifling +accident, to be disregarded not only in the interests of humanity, but +for the sake of art. + +"It is a shame," she said to Euthymia, "that you will not let your +exquisitely moulded form be perpetuated in marble. You have no right to +withhold such a model from the contemplation of your fellow-creatures. +Think how rare it is to see a woman who truly represents the divine idea! +You belong to your race, and not to yourself,--at least, your beauty is a +gift not to be considered as a piece of private property. Look at the +so-called Venus of Milo. Do you suppose the noble woman who was the +original of that divinely chaste statue felt any scruple about allowing +the sculptor to reproduce her pure, unblemished perfections?" + +Euthymia was always patient with her imaginative friend. She listened to +her eloquent discourse, but she could not help blushing, used as she was +to Lurida's audacities. "The Terror's" brain had run away with a large +share of the blood which ought to have gone to the nourishment of her +general system. She could not help admiring, almost worshipping, a +companion whose being was rich in the womanly developments with which +nature had so economically endowed herself. An impoverished organization +carries with it certain neutral qualities which make its subject appear, +in the presence of complete manhood and womanhood, like a deaf-mute among +speaking persons. The deep blush which crimsoned Euthymia's cheek at +Lurida's suggestion was in a strange contrast to her own undisturbed +expression. There was a range of sensibilities of which Lurida knew far +less than she did of those many and difficult studies which had absorbed +her vital forces. She was startled to see what an effect her proposal +had produced, for Euthymia was not only blushing, but there was a flame +in her eyes which she had hardly ever seen before. + +"Is this only your own suggestion?" Euthymia said, "or has some one been +putting the idea into your head?" The truth was that she had happened to +meet the Interviewer at the Library, one day, and she was offended by the +long, searching stare with which that individual had honored her. It +occurred to her that he, or some such visitor to the place, might have +spoken of her to Lurida, or to some other person who had repeated what +was said to Lurida, as a good subject for the art of the sculptor, and +she felt all her maiden sensibilities offended by the proposition. +Lurida could not understand her excitement, but she was startled by it. +Natures which are complementary of each other are liable to these +accidental collisions of feeling. They get along very well together, +none the worse for their differences, until all at once the tender spot +of one or the other is carelessly handled in utter unconsciousness on the +part of the aggressor, and the exclamation, the outcry, or the explosion +explains the situation altogether too emphatically. Such scenes did not +frequently occur between the two friends, and this little flurry was soon +over; but it served to warn Lurida that Miss Euthymia Tower was not of +that class of self-conscious beauties who would be ready to dispute the +empire of the Venus of Milo on her own ground, in defences as scanty and +insufficient as those of the marble divinity. + +Euthymia had had admirers enough, at a distance, while at school, and in +the long vacations, near enough to find out that she was anything but +easy to make love to. She fairly frightened more than one rash youth who +was disposed to be too sentimental in her company. They overdid +flattery, which she was used to and tolerated, but which cheapened the +admirer in her estimation, and now and then betrayed her into an +expression which made him aware of the fact, and was a discouragement to +aggressive amiability. The real difficulty was that not one of her +adorers had ever greatly interested her. It could not be that nature had +made her insensible. It must have been because the man who was made for +her had never yet shown himself. She was not easy to please, that was +certain; and she was one of those young women who will not accept as a +lover one who but half pleases them. She could not pick up the first +stick that fell in her way and take it to shape her ideal out of. Many +of the good people of the village doubted whether Euthymia would ever be +married. + +"There 's nothing good enough for her in this village," said the old +landlord of what had been the Anchor Tavern. + +"She must wait till a prince comes along," the old landlady said in +reply. "She'd make as pretty a queen as any of them that's born to it. +Wouldn't she be splendid with a gold crown on her head, and di'monds a +glitterin' all over her! D' you remember how handsome she looked in the +tableau, when the fair was held for the Dorcas Society? She had on an old +dress of her grandma's,--they don't make anything half so handsome +nowadays,--and she was just as pretty as a pictur'. But what's the use of +good looks if they scare away folks? The young fellows think that such a +handsome girl as that would cost ten times as much to keep as a plain +one. She must be dressed up like an empress,--so they seem to think. It +ain't so with Euthymy: she'd look like a great lady dressed anyhow, and +she has n't got any more notions than the homeliest girl that ever stood +before a glass to look at herself." + +In the humbler walks of Arrowhead Village society, similar opinions were +entertained of Miss Euthymia. The fresh-water fisherman represented +pretty well the average estimate of the class to which he belonged. "I +tell ye," said he to another gentleman of leisure, whose chief occupation +was to watch the coming and going of the visitors to Arrowhead +Village,--"I tell ye that girl ain't a gon to put up with any o' them +slab-sided fellahs that you see hangin' raound to look at her every +Sunday when she comes aout o' meetin'. It's one o' them big gents from +Boston or New York that'll step up an' kerry her off." + +In the mean time nothing could be further from the thoughts of Euthymia +than the prospect of an ambitious worldly alliance. The ideals of young +women cost them many and great disappointments, but they save them very +often from those lifelong companionships which accident is constantly +trying to force upon them, in spite of their obvious unfitness. The +higher the ideal, the less likely is the commonplace neighbor who has the +great advantage of easy access, or the boarding-house acquaintance who +can profit by those vacant hours when the least interesting of visitors +is better than absolute loneliness,--the less likely are these +undesirable personages to be endured, pitied, and, if not embraced, +accepted, for want of something better. Euthymia found so much pleasure +in the intellectual companionship of Lurida, and felt her own prudence +and reserve so necessary to that independent young lady, that she had +been contented, so far, with friendship, and thought of love only in an +abstract sort of way. Beneath her abstractions there was a capacity of +loving which might have been inferred from the expression of her +features, the light that shone in her eyes, the tones of her voice, all +of which were full of the language which belongs to susceptible natures. +How many women never say to themselves that they were born to love, until +all at once the discovery opens upon them, as the sense that he was born +a painter is said to have dawned suddenly upon Correggio! + +Like all the rest of the village and its visitors, she could not help +thinking a good deal about the young man lying ill amongst strangers. She +was not one of those who had sent him the three-cornered notes or even a +bunch of flowers. She knew that he was receiving abounding tokens of +kindness and sympathy from different quarters, and a certain inward +feeling restrained her from joining in these demonstrations. If he had +been suffering from some deadly and contagious malady she would have +risked her life to help him, without a thought that there was any +wonderful heroism in such self-devotion. Her friend Lurida might have +been capable of the same sacrifice, but it would be after reasoning with +herself as to the obligations which her sense of human rights and duties +laid upon her, and fortifying her courage with the memory of noble deeds +recorded of women in ancient and modern history. With Euthymia the +primary human instincts took precedence of all reasoning or reflection +about them. All her sympathies were excited by the thought of this +forlorn stranger in his solitude, but she felt the impossibility of +giving any complete expression to them. She thought of Mungo Park in the +African desert, and she envied the poor negress who not only pitied him, +but had the blessed opportunity of helping and consoling him. How near +were these two human creatures, each needing the other! How near in +bodily presence, how far apart in their lives, with a barrier seemingly +impassable between them! + + + + +XXIII + +THE MEETING OF MAURICE AND EUTHYMIA. + +These autumnal fevers, which carry off a large number of our young people +every year, are treacherous and deceptive diseases. Not only are they +liable, as has been mentioned, to various accidental complications which +may prove suddenly fatal, but too often, after convalescence seems to be +established, relapses occur which are more serious than the disease had +appeared to be in its previous course. One morning Dr. Butts found +Maurice worse instead of better, as he had hoped and expected to find +him. Weak as he was, there was every reason to fear the issue of this +return of his threatening symptoms. There was not much to do besides +keeping up the little strength which still remained. It was all needed. + +Does the reader of these pages ever think of the work a sick man as much +as a well one has to perform while he is lying on his back and taking +what we call his "rest"? More than a thousand times an hour, between a +hundred and fifty and two hundred thousand times a week, he has to lift +the bars of the cage in which his breathing organs are confined, to save +himself from asphyxia. Rest! There is no rest until the last long sigh +tells those who look upon the dying that the ceaseless daily task, to +rest from which is death, is at last finished. We are all galley-slaves, +pulling at the levers of respiration,--which, rising and falling like so +many oars, drive us across an unfathomable ocean from one unknown shore +to another. No! Never was a galley-slave so chained as we are to these +four and twenty oars, at which we must tug day and night all our life +long. + +The doctor could not find any accidental cause to account for this +relapse. It presently occurred to him that there might be some local +source of infection which had brought on the complaint, and was still +keeping up the symptoms which were the ground of alarm. He determined to +remove Maurice to his own house, where he could be sure of pure air, and +where he himself could give more constant attention to his patient during +this critical period of his disease. It was a risk to take, but he could +be carried on a litter by careful men, and remain wholly passive during +the removal. Maurice signified his assent, as he could hardly help +doing,--for the doctor's suggestion took pretty nearly the form of a +command. He thought it a matter of life and death, and was gently urgent +for his patient's immediate change of residence. The doctor insisted on +having Maurice's books and other movable articles carried to his own +house, so that he should be surrounded by familiar sights, and not worry +himself about what might happen to objects which he valued, if they were +left behind him. + +All these dispositions were quickly and quietly made, and everything was +ready for the transfer of the patient to the house of the hospitable +physician. Paolo was at the doctor's, superintending the arrangement of +Maurice's effects and making all ready for his master. The nurse in +attendance, a trustworthy man enough in the main, finding his patient in +a tranquil sleep, left his bedside for a little fresh air. While he was +at the door he heard a shouting which excited his curiosity, and he +followed the sound until he found himself at the border of the lake. It +was nothing very wonderful which had caused the shouting. A Newfoundland +dog had been showing off his accomplishments, and some of the idlers were +betting as to the time it would take him to bring back to his master the +various floating objects which had been thrown as far from the shore as +possible. He watched the dog a few minutes, when his attention was drawn +to a light wherry, pulled by one young lady and steered by another. It +was making for the shore, which it would soon reach. The attendant +remembered all at once, that he had left his charge, and just before the +boat came to land he turned and hurried back to the patient. Exactly how +long he had been absent he could not have said,--perhaps a quarter of an +hour, perhaps longer; the time appeared short to him, wearied with long +sitting and watching. + +It had seemed, when he stole away from Maurice's bedside, that he was not +in the least needed. The patient was lying perfectly quiet, and to all +appearance wanted nothing more than letting alone. It was such a comfort +to look at something besides the worn features of a sick man, to hear +something besides his labored breathing and faint, half-whispered words, +that the temptation to indulge in these luxuries for a few minutes had +proved irresistible. + +Unfortunately, Maurice's slumbers did not remain tranquil during the +absence of the nurse. He very soon fell into a dream, which began +quietly enough, but in the course of the sudden transitions which dreams +are in the habit of undergoing became successively anxious, distressing, +terrifying. His earlier and later experiences came up before him, +fragmentary, incoherent, chaotic even, but vivid as reality. He was at +the bottom of a coal-mine in one of those long, narrow galleries, or +rather worm-holes, in which human beings pass a large part of their +lives, like so many larvae boring their way into the beams and rafters of +some old building. How close the air was in the stifling passage through +which he was crawling! The scene changed, and he was climbing a slippery +sheet of ice with desperate effort, his foot on the floor of a shallow +niche, his hold an icicle ready to snap in an instant, an abyss below him +waiting for his foot to slip or the icicle to break. How thin the air +seemed, how desperately hard to breathe! He was thinking of Mont Blanc, +it may be, and the fearfully rarefied atmosphere which he remembered well +as one of the great trials in his mountain ascents. No, it was not Mont +Blanc,--it was not any one of the frozen Alpine summits; it was Hecla +that he was climbing. + +The smoke of the burning mountain was wrapping itself around him; he was +choking with its dense fumes; he heard the flames roaring around him, he +felt the hot lava beneath his feet, he uttered a faint cry, and awoke. + +The room was full of smoke. He was gasping for breath, strangling in the +smothering oven which his chamber had become. + +The house was on fire! + +He tried to call for help, but his voice failed him, and died away in a +whisper. He made a desperate effort, and rose so as to sit up in the bed +for an instant, but the effort was too much for him, and he sank back +upon his pillow, helpless. He felt that his hour had come, for he could +not live in this dreadful atmosphere, and he was left alone. He could +hear the crackle of fire as the flame crept along from one partition to +another. It was a cruel fate to be left to perish in that way,--the fate +that many a martyr had had to face,--to be first strangled and then +burned. Death had not the terror for him that it has for most young +persons. He was accustomed to thinking of it calmly, sometimes +wistfully, even to such a degree that the thought of self-destruction had +come upon him as a temptation. But here was death in an unexpected and +appalling shape. He did not know before how much he cared to live. All +his old recollections came before him as it were in one long, vivid +flash. The closed vista of memory opened to its far horizon-line, and +past and present were pictured in a single instant of clear vision. The +dread moment which had blighted his life returned in all its terror. He +felt the convulsive spring in the form of a faint, impotent spasm,--the +rush of air,--the thorns of the stinging and lacerating cradle into which +he was precipitated. One after another those paralyzing seizures which +had been like deadening blows on the naked heart seemed to repeat +themselves, as real as at the moment of their occurrence. The pictures +passed in succession with such rapidity that they appeared almost as if +simultaneous. The vision of the "inward eye" was so intensified in this +moment of peril that an instant was like an hour of common existence. +Those who have been very near drowning know well what this description +means. The development of a photograph may not explain it, but it +illustrates the curious and familiar fact of the revived recollections of +the drowning man's experience. The sensitive plate has taken one look at +a scene, and remembers it all, + +Every little circumstance is there,--the hoof in air, the wing in flight, +the leaf as it falls, the wave as it breaks. All there, but invisible; +potentially present, but impalpable, inappreciable, as if not existing at +all. A wash is poured over it, and the whole scene comes out in all its +perfection of detail. In those supreme moments when death stares a man +suddenly in the face the rush of unwonted emotion floods the undeveloped +pictures of vanished years, stored away in the memory, the vast panorama +of a lifetime, and in one swift instant the past comes out as vividly as +if it were again the present. So it was at this moment with the sick +man, as he lay helpless and felt that he was left to die. For he saw no +hope of relief: the smoke was drifting in clouds into the room; the +flames were very near; if he was not reached and rescued immediately it +was all over with him. + +His past life had flashed before him. Then all at once rose the thought +of his future,--of all its possibilities, of the vague hopes which he had +cherished of late that his mysterious doom would be lifted from him. +There was something, then, to be lived for, something! There was a new +life, it might be, in store for him, and such a new life! He thought of +all he was losing. Oh, could he but have lived to know the meaning of +love! And the passionate desire of life came over him,--not the dread of +death, but the longing for what the future might yet have of happiness +for him. + +All this took place in the course of a very few moments. Dreams and +visions have little to do with measured time, and ten minutes, possibly +fifteen or twenty, were all that had passed since the beginning of those +nightmare terrors which were evidently suggested by the suffocating air +he was breathing. + +What had happened? In the confusion of moving books and other articles +to the doctor's house, doors and windows had been forgotten. Among the +rest a window opening into the cellar, where some old furniture had been +left by a former occupant, had been left unclosed. One of the lazy +natives, who had lounged by the house smoking a bad cigar, had thrown the +burning stump in at this open window. He had no particular intention of +doing mischief, but he had that indifference to consequences which is the +next step above the inclination to crime. The burning stump happened to +fall among the straw of an old mattress which had been ripped open. The +smoker went his way without looking behind him, and it so chanced that no +other person passed the house for some time. Presently the straw was in +a blaze, and from this the fire extended to the furniture, to the +stairway leading up from the cellar, and was working its way along the +entry under the stairs leading up to the apartment where Maurice was +lying. + +The blaze was fierce and swift, as it could not help being with such a +mass of combustibles,--loose straw from the mattress, dry old furniture, +and old warped floors which had been parching and shrinking for a score +or two of years. The whole house was, in the common language of the +newspaper reports, "a perfect tinder-box," and would probably be a heap +of ashes in half an hour. And there was this unfortunate deserted sick +man lying between life and death, beyond all help unless some unexpected +assistance should come to his rescue. + +As the attendant drew near the house where Maurice was lying, he was +horror-struck to see dense volumes of smoke pouring out of the lower +windows. It was beginning to make its way through the upper windows, +also, and presently a tongue of fire shot out and streamed upward along +the side of the house. The man shrieked Fire! Fire! with all his might, +and rushed to the door of the building to make his way to Maurice's room +and save him. He penetrated but a short distance when, blinded and +choking with the smoke, he rushed headlong down the stairs with a cry of +despair that roused every man, woman, and child within reach of a human +voice. Out they came from their houses in every quarter of the village. +The shout of Fire! Fire! was the chief aid lent by many of the young and +old. Some caught up pails and buckets: the more thoughtful ones filling +them; the hastier snatching them up empty, trusting to find water nearer +the burning building. + +Is the sick man moved? + +This was the awful question first asked,--for in the little village all +knew that Maurice was about being transferred to the doctor's house. The +attendant, white as death, pointed to the chamber where he had left him, +and gasped out, + +"He is there!" + +A ladder! A ladder! was the general cry, and men and boys rushed off in +search of one. But a single minute was an age now, and there was no +ladder to be had without a delay of many minutes. The sick man was going +to be swallowed up in the flames before it could possibly arrive. Some +were going for a blanket or a coverlet, in the hope that the young man +might have strength enough to leap from the window and be safely caught +in it. The attendant shook his head, and said faintly, + +"He cannot move from his bed." + +One of the visitors at the village,--a millionaire, it was said,--a +kind-hearted man, spoke in hoarse, broken tones: + +"A thousand dollars to the man that will bring him from his chamber!" + +The fresh-water fisherman muttered, "I should like to save the man and to +see the money, but it ain't a thaousan' dollars, nor ten thaousan' +dollars, that'll pay a fellah for burnin' to death,--or even chokin' to +death, anyhaow." + +The carpenter, who knew the framework of every house in the village, +recent or old, shook his head. + +"The stairs have been shored up," he said, "and when the fists that holds +'em up goes, down they'll come. It ain't safe for no man to go over them +stairs. Hurry along your ladder,--that's your only chance." + +All was wild confusion around the burning house. The ladder they had +gone for was missing from its case,--a neighbor had carried it off for +the workmen who were shingling his roof. It would never get there in +time. There was a fire-engine, but it was nearly half a mile from the +lakeside settlement. Some were throwing on water in an aimless, useless +way; one was sending a thin stream through a garden syringe: it seemed +like doing something, at least. But all hope of saving Maurice was fast +giving way, so rapid was the progress of the flames, so thick the cloud +of smoke that filled the house and poured from the windows. Nothing was +heard but confused cries, shrieks of women, all sorts of orders to do +this and that, no one knowing what was to be done. The ladder! The +ladder! Five minutes more and it will be too late! + +In the mean time the alarm of fire had reached Paolo, and he had stopped +his work of arranging Maurice's books in the same way as that in which +they had stood in his apartment, and followed in the direction of the +sound, little thinking that his master was lying helpless in the burning +house. "Some chimney afire," he said to himself; but he would go and +take a look, at any rate. + +Before Paolo had reached the scene of destruction and impending death, +two young women, in boating dresses of decidedly Bloomerish aspect, had +suddenly joined the throng. "The Wonder" and "The Terror" of their +school-days--Miss Euthymia rower and Miss Lurida Vincent had just come +from the shore, where they had left their wherry. A few hurried words +told them the fearful story. Maurice Kirkwood was lying in the chamber +to which every eye was turned, unable to move, doomed to a dreadful +death. All that could be hoped was that he would perish by suffocation +rather than by the flames, which would soon be upon him. The man who had +attended him had just tried to reach his chamber, but had reeled back out +of the door, almost strangled by the smoke. A thousand dollars had been +offered to any one who would rescue the sick man, but no one had dared to +make the attempt; for the stairs might fall at any moment, if the smoke +did not blind and smother the man who passed them before they fell. + +The two young women looked each other in the face for one swift moment. + +"How can he be reached?" asked Lurida. "Is there nobody that will +venture his life to save a brother like that?" + +"I will venture mine," said Euthymia. + +"No! no!" shrieked Lurida,--"not you! not you! It is a man's work, not +yours! You shall not go!" Poor Lurida had forgotten all her theories in +this supreme moment. But Euthymia was not to be held back. Taking a +handkerchief from her neck, she dipped it in a pail of water and bound it +about her head. Then she took several deep breaths of air, and filled +her lungs as full as they would hold. She knew she must not take a +single breath in the choking atmosphere if she could possibly help it, +and Euthymia was noted for her power of staying under water so long that +more than once those who saw her dive thought she would never come up +again. So rapid were her movements that they paralyzed the bystanders, +who would forcibly have prevented her from carrying out her purpose. Her +imperious determination was not to be resisted. And so Euthymia, a +willing martyr, if martyr she was to be, and not saviour, passed within +the veil that hid the sufferer. + +Lurida turned deadly pale, and sank fainting to the ground. She was the +first, but not the only one, of her sex that fainted as Euthymia +disappeared in the smoke of the burning building. Even the rector grew +very white in the face,--so white that one of his vestry-men begged him +to sit down at once, and sprinkled a few drops of water on his forehead, +to his great disgust and manifest advantage. The old landlady was crying +and moaning, and her husband was wiping his eyes and shaking his head +sadly. + +"She will nevar come out alive," he said solemnly. + +"Nor dead, neither," added the carpenter. "Ther' won't be nothing left +of neither of 'em but ashes." And the carpenter hid his face in his +hands. + +The fresh-water fisherman had pulled out a rag which he called a +"hangkercher,"--it had served to carry bait that morning,--and was making +use of its best corner to dry the tears which were running down his +cheeks. The whole village was proud of Euthymia, and with these more +quiet signs of grief were mingled loud lamentations, coming alike from +old and young. + +All this was not so much like a succession of events as it was like a +tableau. The lookers-on were stunned with its suddenness, and before +they had time to recover their bewildered senses all was lost, or seemed +lost. They felt that they should never look again on either of those +young faces. + +The rector, not unfeeling by nature, but inveterately professional by +habit, had already recovered enough to be thinking of a text for the +funeral sermon. The first that occurred to him was this,--vaguely, of +course, in the background of consciousness: + +"Then Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego came forth of the midst of the +fire." + +The village undertaker was of naturally sober aspect and reflective +disposition. He had always been opposed to cremation, and here was a +funeral pile blazing before his eyes. He, too, had his human sympathies, +but in the distance his imagination pictured the final ceremony, and how +he himself should figure in a spectacle where the usual centre piece of +attraction would be wanting,--perhaps his own services uncalled for. + +Blame him not, you whose garden-patch is not watered with the tears of +mourners. The string of self-interest answers with its chord to every +sound; it vibrates with the funeral-bell, it finds itself trembling to +the wail of the De Profundis. Not always,--not always; let us not be +cynical in our judgments, but common human nature, we may safely say, is +subject to those secondary vibrations under the most solemn and +soul-subduing influences. + +It seems as if we were doing great wrong to the scene we are +contemplating in delaying it by the description of little circumstances +and individual thoughts and feelings. But linger as we may, we cannot +compress into a chapter--we could not crowd into a volume--all that +passed through the minds and stirred the emotions of the awe-struck +company which was gathered about the scene of danger and of terror. We +are dealing with an impossibility: consciousness is a surface; narrative +is a line. + +Maurice had given himself up for lost. His breathing was becoming every +moment more difficult, and he felt that his strength could hold out but a +few minutes longer. + +"Robert!" he called in faint accents. But the attendant was not there to +answer. + +"Paolo! Paolo!" But the faithful servant, who would have given his life +for his master, had not yet reached the place where the crowd was +gathered. + +"Oh, for a breath of air! Oh, for an arm to lift me from this bed! Too +late! Too late!" he gasped, with what might have seemed his dying +expiration. + +"Not too late!" The soft voice reached his obscured consciousness as if +it had come down to him from heaven. + +In a single instant he found himself rolled in a blanket and in the arms +of--a woman! + +Out of the stifling chamber,--over the burning stairs,--close by the +tongues of fire that were lapping up all they could reach,--out into the +open air, he was borne swiftly and safely,--carried as easily as if he +had been a babe, in the strong arms of "The Wonder" of the gymnasium, the +captain of the Atalanta, who had little dreamed of the use she was to +make of her natural gifts and her school-girl accomplishments. + +Such a cry as arose from the crowd of on-lookers! It was a sound that +none of them had ever heard before or could expect ever to hear again, +unless he should be one of the last boat-load rescued from a sinking +vessel. Then, those who had resisted the overflow of their emotion, who +had stood in white despair as they thought of these two young lives soon +to be wrapped in their burning shroud,--those stern men--the old +sea-captain, the hard-faced, moneymaking, cast-iron tradesmen of the city +counting-room--sobbed like hysteric women; it was like a convulsion that +overcame natures unused to those deeper emotions which many who are +capable of experiencing die without ever knowing. + +This was the scene upon which the doctor and Paolo suddenly appeared at +the same moment. + +As the fresh breeze passed over the face of the rescued patient, his eyes +opened wide, and his consciousness returned in almost supernatural +lucidity. Euthymia had sat down upon a bank, and was still supporting +him. His head was resting on her bosom. Through his awakening senses +stole the murmurs of the living cradle which rocked him with the wavelike +movements of respiration, the soft susurrus of the air that entered with +every breath, the double beat of the heart which throbbed close to his +ear. And every sense, and every instinct, and every reviving pulse told +him in language like a revelation from another world that a woman's arms +were around him, and that it was life, and not death, which her embrace +had brought him. + +She would have disengaged him from her protecting hold, but the doctor +made her a peremptory sign, which he followed by a sharp command:-- + +"Do not move him a hair's breadth," he said. "Wait until the litter +comes. Any sudden movement might be dangerous. Has anybody a brandy +flask about him?" + +One or two members of the local temperance society looked rather awkward, +but did not come forward. + +The fresh-water fisherman was the first who spoke. + +"I han't got no brandy," he said, "but there's a drop or two of old +Medford rum in this here that you're welcome to, if it'll be of any help. +I alliz kerry a little on 't in case o' gettin' wet 'n' chilled." + +So saying he held forth a flat bottle with the word Sarsaparilla stamped +on the green glass, but which contained half a pint or more of the +specific on which he relied in those very frequent exposures which happen +to persons of his calling. + +The doctor motioned back Paolo, who would have rushed at once to the aid +of Maurice, and who was not wanted at that moment. So poor Paolo, in an +agony of fear for his master, was kept as quiet as possible, and had to +content himself with asking all sorts of questions and repeating all the +prayers he could think of to Our Lady and to his holy namesake the +Apostle. + +The doctor wiped the mouth of the fisherman's bottle very carefully. +"Take a few drops of this cordial," he said, as he held it to his +patient's lips. "Hold him just so, Euthymia, without stirring. I will +watch him, and say when he is ready to be moved. The litter is near by, +waiting." Dr. Butts watched Maurice's pulse and color. The "Old +Medford" knew its business. It had knocked over its tens of thousands; +it had its redeeming virtue, and helped to set up a poor fellow now and +then. It did this for Maurice very effectively. When he seemed somewhat +restored, the doctor had the litter brought to his side, and Euthymia +softly resigned her helpless burden, which Paolo and the attendant Robert +lifted with the aid of the doctor, who walked by the patient as he was +borne to the home where Mrs. Butts had made all ready for his reception. + +As for poor Lurida, who had thought herself equal to the sanguinary +duties of the surgeon, she was left lying on the grass with an old woman +over her, working hard with fan and smelling-salts to bring her back from +her long fainting fit. + + + + +XXIV + +THE INEVITABLE. + +Why should not human nature be the same in Arrowhead Village as +elsewhere? It could not seem strange to the good people of that place +and their visitors that these two young persons, brought together under +circumstances that stirred up the deepest emotions of which the human +soul is capable, should become attached to each other. But the bond +between them was stronger than any knew, except the good doctor, who had +learned the great secret of Maurice's life. For the first time since his +infancy he had fully felt the charm which the immediate presence of +youthful womanhood carries with it. He could hardly believe the fact when +he found himself no longer the subject of the terrifying seizures of +which he had had many and threatening experiences. + +It was the doctor's business to save his patient's life, if he could +possibly do it. Maurice had been reduced to the most perilous state of +debility by the relapse which had interrupted his convalescence. Only by +what seemed almost a miracle had he survived the exposure to suffocation +and the mental anguish through which he had passed. It was perfectly +clear to Dr. Butts that if Maurice could see the young woman to whom he +owed his life, and, as the doctor felt assured, the revolution in his +nervous system which would be the beginning of a new existence, it would +be of far more value as a restorative agency than any or all of the drugs +in the pharmacopoeia. He told this to Euthymia, and explained the matter +to her parents and friends. She must go with him on some of his visits. +Her mother should go with her, or her sister; but this was a case of life +and death, and no maidenly scruples must keep her from doing her duty. + +The first of her visits to the sick, perhaps dying, man presented a scene +not unlike the picture before spoken of on the title-page of the old +edition of Galen. The doctor was perhaps the most agitated of the little +group. He went before the others, took his seat by the bedside, and held +the patient's wrist with his finger on the pulse. As Euthymia entered it +gave a single bound, fluttered for an instant as if with a faint memory +of its old habit, then throbbed full and strong, comparatively, as if +under the spur of some powerful stimulus. Euthymia's task was a delicate +one, but she knew how to disguise its difficulty. + +"Here is a flower I have brought you, Mr. Kirkwood," she said, and handed +him a white chrysanthemum. He took it from her hand, and before she knew +it he took her hand into his own, and held it with a gentle constraint. +What could she do? Here was the young man whose life she had saved, at +least for the moment, and who was yet in danger from the disease which +had almost worn out his powers of resistance. + +"Sit down by Mr. Kirkwood's side," said the doctor. "He wants to thank +you, if he has strength to do it, for saving him from the death which +seemed inevitable." + +Not many words could Maurice command. He was weak enough for womanly +tears, but their fountains no longer flowed; it was with him as with the +dying, whose eyes may light up, but rarely shed a tear. + +The river which has found a new channel widens and deepens--it; it lets +the old water-course fill up, and never returns to its forsaken bed. The +tyrannous habit was broken. The prophecy of the gitana had verified +itself, and the ill a fair woman had wrought a fairer woman bad conquered +and abolished. + +The history of Maurice Kirkwood loses its exceptional character from the +time of his restoration to his natural conditions. His convalescence was +very slow and gradual, but no further accident interrupted its even +progress. The season was over, the summer visitors had left Arrowhead +Village; the chrysanthemums were going out of flower, the frosts had +come, and Maurice was still beneath the roof of the kind physician. The +relation between him and his preserver was so entirely apart from all +common acquaintances and friendships that no ordinary rules could apply +to it. Euthymia visited him often during the period of his extreme +prostration. + +"You must come every day," the doctor said. "He gains with every visit +you make him; he pines if you miss him for a single day." So she came +and sat by him, the doctor or good Mrs. Butts keeping her company in his +presence. He grew stronger,--began to sit up in bed; and at last +Euthymia found him dressed as in health, and beginning to walk about the +room. She was startled. She had thought of herself as a kind of nurse, +but the young gentleman could hardly be said to need a nurse any longer. +She had scruples about making any further visits. She asked Lurida what +she thought about it. + +"Think about it?" said Lurida. "Why should n't you go to see a brother +as well as a sister, I should like to know? If you are afraid to go to +see Maurice Kirkwood, I am not afraid, at any rate. If you would rather +have me go than go yourself, I will do it, and let people talk just as +much as they want to. Shall I go instead of you?" + +Euthymia was not quite sure that this would be the best thing for the +patient. The doctor had told her he thought there were special reasons +for her own course in coming daily to see him. "I am afraid," she said, +"you are too bright to be safe for him in his weak state. Your mind is +such a stimulating one, you know. A dull sort of person like myself is +better for him just now. I will continue visiting him as long as the +doctor says it is important that I should; but you must defend me, +Lurida,--I know you can explain it all so that people will not blame me." + +Euthymia knew full well what the effect of Lurida's penetrating +head-voice would be in a convalescent's chamber. She knew how that +active mind of hers would set the young man's thoughts at work, when what +he wanted was rest of every faculty. Were not these good and sufficient +reasons for her decision? What others could there be? + +So Euthymia kept on with her visits, until she blushed to see that she +was continuing her charitable office for one who was beginning to look +too well to be called an invalid. It was a dangerous condition of +affairs, and the busy tongues of the village gossips were free in their +comments. Free, but kindly, for the story of the rescue had melted every +heart; and what could be more natural than that these two young people +whom God had brought together in the dread moment of peril should find it +hard to tear themselves asunder after the hour of danger was past? When +gratitude is a bankrupt, love only can pay his debts; and if Maurice gave +his heart to Euthymia, would not she receive it as payment in full? + +The change which had taken place in the vital currents of Maurice +Kirkwood's system was as simple and solid a fact as the change in a +magnetic needle when the boreal becomes the austral pole, and the austral +the boreal. It was well, perhaps, that this change took place while he +was enfeebled by the wasting effects of long illness. For all the +long-defeated, disturbed, perverted instincts had found their natural +channel from the centre of consciousness to the organ which throbs in +response to every profound emotion. As his health gradually returned, +Euthymia could not help perceiving a flush in his cheek, a glitter in his +eyes, a something in the tone of his voice, which altogether were a +warning to the young maiden that the highway of friendly intercourse was +fast narrowing to a lane, at the head of which her woman's eye could read +plainly enough, "Dangerous passing." + +"You look so much better to-day, Mr. Kirkwood," she said, "that I think I +had better not play Sister of Charity any longer. The next time we meet +I hope you will be strong enough to call on me." + +She was frightened to see how pale he turned,--he was weaker than she +thought. There was a silence so profound and so long that Mrs. Butts +looked up from the stocking she was knitting. They had forgotten the +good woman's presence. + +Presently Maurice spoke,--very faintly, but Mrs. Butts dropped a stitch +at the first word, and her knitting fell into her lap as she listened to +what followed. + +"No! you must not leave me. You must never leave me. You saved my life. +But you have done more than that,--more than you know or can ever know. +To you I owe it that I am living; with you I live henceforth, if I am to +live at all. All I am, all I hope,--will you take this poor offering +from one who owes you everything, whose lips never touched those of woman +or breathed a word of love before you?" + +What could Euthymia reply to this question, uttered with all the depth of +a passion which had never before found expression. + +Not one syllable of answer did listening Mrs. Butts overhear. But she +told her husband afterwards that there was nothing in the tableaux they +had had in September to compare with what she then saw. It was indeed a +pleasing picture which those two young heads presented as Euthymia gave +her inarticulate but infinitely expressive answer to the question of +Maurice Kirkwood. The good-hearted woman thought it time to leave the +young people. Down went the stocking with the needles in it; out of her +lap tumbled the ball of worsted, rolling along the floor with its yarn +trailing after it, like some village matron who goes about circulating +from hearth to hearth, leaving all along her track the story of the new +engagement or of the arrival of the last "little stranger." + +Not many suns had set before it was told all through Arrowhead Village +that Maurice Kirkwood was the accepted lover of Euthymia Tower. + + + + +POSTSCRIPT: AFTER-GLIMPSES. + +MISS LURIDA VINCENT TO MRS. EUTHYMIA KIRKWOOD. ARROWHEAD VILLAGE, May 18. + +MY DEAREST EUTHYMIA,--Who would have thought, when you broke your oar as +the Atalanta flashed by the Algonquin, last June, that before the roses +came again you would find yourself the wife of a fine scholar and grand +gentleman, and the head of a household such as that of which you are the +mistress? You must not forget your old Arrowhead Village friends. What +am I saying?---you forget them! No, dearest, I know your heart too well +for that! You are not one of those who lay aside their old friendships +as they do last years bonnet when they get a new one. You have told me +all about yourself and your happiness, and now you want me to tell you +about myself and what is going on in our little place. + +And first about myself. I have given up the idea of becoming a doctor. +I have studied mathematics so much that I have grown fond of certainties, +of demonstrations, and medicine deals chiefly in probabilities. The +practice of the art is so mixed up with the deepest human interests that +it is hard to pursue it with that even poise of the intellect which is +demanded by science. I want knowledge pure and simple,--I do not fancy +having it mixed. Neither do I like the thought of passing my life in +going from one scene of suffering to another; I am not saintly enough for +such a daily martyrdom, nor callous enough to make it an easy occupation. +I fainted at the first operation I saw, and I have never wanted to see +another. I don't say that I wouldn't marry a physician, if the right one +asked me, but the young doctor is not forthcoming at present. Yes, I +think I might make a pretty good doctor's wife. I could teach him a good +deal about headaches and backaches and all sorts of nervous revolutions, +as the doctor says the French women call their tantrums. I don't know +but I should be willing to let him try his new medicines on me. If he +were a homeopath, I know I should; for if a billionth of a grain of sugar +won't begin to sweeten my tea or coffee, I don't feel afraid that a +billionth of a grain of anything would poison me,--no, not if it were +snake-venom; and if it were not disgusting, I would swallow a handful of +his lachesis globules, to please my husband. But if I ever become a +doctor's wife, my husband will not be one of that kind of practitioners, +you may be sure of that, nor an "eclectic," nor a "faith-cure man." On +the whole, I don't think I want to be married at all. I don't like the +male animal very well (except such noble specimens as your husband). +They are all tyrants,--almost all,--so far as our sex is concerned, and I +often think we could get on better without them. + +However, the creatures are useful in the Society. They send us papers, +some of them well worth reading. You have told me so often that you +would like to know how the Society is getting on, and to read some of the +papers sent to it if they happened to be interesting, that I have laid +aside one or two manuscripts expressly for your perusal. You will get +them by and by. + +I am delighted to know that you keep Paolo with you. Arrowhead Village +misses him dreadfully, I can tell you. That is the reason people become +so attached to these servants with Southern sunlight in their natures? I +suppose life is not long enough to cool their blood down to our Northern +standard. Then they are so child-like, whereas the native of these +latitudes is never young after he is ten or twelve years old. Mother +says,--you know mother's old-fashioned notions, and how shrewd and +sensible she is in spite of them,--mother says that when she was a girl +families used to import young men and young women from the country towns, +who called themselves "helps," not servants,--no, that was Scriptural; +"but they did n't know everything down in Judee," and it is not good +American language. She says that these people would live in the same +household until they were married, and the women often remain in the same +service until they died or were old and worn out, and then, what with the +money they had saved and the care and assistance they got from their +former employers, would pass a decent and comfortable old age, and be +buried in the family lot. Mother has made up her mind to the change, but +grandmother is bitter about it. She says there never was a country yet +where the population was made up of "ladies" and "gentlemen," and she +does n't believe there can be; nor that putting a spread eagle on a +copper makes a gold dollar of it. She is a pessimist after her own +fashion. She thinks all sentiment is dying out of our people. No +loyalty for the sovereign, the king-post of the political edifice, she +says; no deep attachment between employer and employed; no reverence of +the humbler members of a household for its heads; and to make sure of +continued corruption and misery, what she calls "universal suffrage" +emptying all the sewers into the great aqueduct we all must drink from. +"Universal suffrage!" I suppose we women don't belong to the universe! +Wait until we get a chance at the ballot-box, I tell grandma, and see if +we don't wash out the sewers before they reach the aqueduct! But my pen +has run away with men I was thinking of Paolo, and what a pleasant thing +it is to have one of those child-like, warm-hearted, attachable, +cheerful, contented, humble, faithful, companionable, but never presuming +grownup children of the South waiting on one, as if everything he could +do for one was a pleasure, and carrying a look of content in his face +which makes every one who meets him happier for a glimpse of his +features. + +It does seem a shame that the charming relation of master and servant, +intelligent authority and cheerful obedience, mutual interest in each +other's welfare, thankful recognition of all the advantages which belong +to domestic service in the better class of families, should be almost +wholly confined to aliens and their immediate descendants. Why should +Hannah think herself so much better than Bridget? When they meet at the +polls together, as they will before long, they will begin to feel more of +an equality than is recognized at present. The native female turns her +nose up at the idea of "living out;" does she think herself so much +superior to the women of other nationalities? Our women will have to +come to it,--so grandmother says,--in another generation or two, and in a +hundred years, according to her prophecy, there will be a new set of old +"Miss Pollys" and "Miss Betseys" who have lived half a century in the +same families, respectful and respected, cherished, cared for in time of +need (citizens as well as servants, holding a ballot as well as a broom, +I tell her), and bringing back to us the lowly, underfoot virtues of +contentment and humility, which we do so need to carpet the barren and +hungry thoroughfare of our unstratified existence. + +There, I have got a-going, and am forgetting all the news I have to tell +you. There is an engagement you will want to know all about. It came to +pass through our famous boat-race, which you and I remember, and shall +never forget as long as we live. It seems that the young fellow who +pulled the bow oar of that men's college boat which we had the pleasure +of beating got some glimpses of Georgina, our handsome stroke oar. I +believe he took it into his head that it was she who threw the bouquet +that won the race for us. He was, as you know, greatly mistaken, and +ought to have made love to me, only he did n't. Well, it seems he came +posting down to the Institute just before the vacation was over, and +there got a sight of Georgina. I wonder whether she told him she didn't +fling the bouquet! Anyhow, the acquaintance began in that way, and now +it seems that this young fellow, good-looking and a bright scholar, but +with a good many months more to pass in college, is her captive. It was +too bad. Just think of my bouquet's going to another girl's credit! No +matter, the old Atalanta story was paid off, at any rate. + +You want to know all about dear Dr. Butts. They say he has just been +offered a Professorship in one of the great medical colleges. I asked +him about it, and he did not say that he had or had not. "But," said be, +"suppose that I had been offered such a place; do you think I ought to +accept it and leave Arrowhead Village? Let us talk it over," said he, +"just as if I had had such an offer." I told him he ought to stay. +There are plenty of men that can get into a Professor's chair, I said, +and talk like Solomons to a class of wondering pupils: but once get a +really good doctor in a place, a man who knows all about everybody, +whether they have this or that tendency, whether when they are sick they +have a way of dying or a way of getting well, what medicines agree with +them and what drugs they cannot take, whether they are of the sort that +think nothing is the matter with them until they are dead as smoked +herring, or of the sort that send for the minister if they get a +stomach-ache from eating too many cucumbers,--who knows all about all the +people within half a dozen miles (all the sensible ones, that is, who +employ a regular practitioner),--such a man as that, I say, is not to be +replaced like a missing piece out of a Springfield musket or a Waltham +watch. Don't go! said I. Stay here and save our precious lives, if you +can, or at least put us through in the proper way, so that we needn't be +ashamed of ourselves for dying, if we must die. Well, Dr. Butts is not +going to leave us. I hope you will have no unwelcome occasion for his +services,--you are never ill, you know,--but, anyhow, he is going to be +here, and no matter what happens he will be on hand. + +The village news is not of a very exciting character. Item 1. A new +house is put up over the ashes of the one in which your husband lived +while he was here. It was planned by one of the autochthonous +inhabitants with the most ingenious combination of inconveniences that +the natural man could educe from his original perversity of intellect. +To get at any one room you must pass through every other. It is blind, or +nearly so, on the only side which has a good prospect, and commands a +fine view of the barn and pigsty through numerous windows. Item 2. We +have a small fire-engine near the new house which can be worked by a man +or two, and would be equal to the emergency of putting out a bunch of +fire-crackers. Item 3. We have a new ladder, in a bog, close to the new +fire-engine, so if the new house catches fire, like its predecessor, and +there should happen to, be a sick man on an upper floor, he can be got +out without running the risk of going up and down a burning staircase. +What a blessed thing it was that there was no fire-engine near by and no +ladder at hand on the day of the great rescue! If there had been, what a +change in your programme of life! You remember that "cup of tea spilt on +Mrs. Masham's apron," which we used to read of in one of Everett's +Orations, and all its wide-reaching consequences in the affairs of +Europe. I hunted up that cup of tea as diligently as ever a Boston +matron sought for the last leaves in her old caddy after the tea-chests +had been flung overboard at Griffin's wharf,--but no matter about that, +now. That is the way things come about in this world. I must write a +lecture on lucky mishaps, or, more elegantly, fortunate calamities. It +will be just the converse of that odd essay of Swift's we read together, +the awkward and stupid things done with the best intentions. Perhaps I +shall deliver the lecture in your city: you will come and hear it, and +bring him, won't you, dearest? Always, your loving + +LURIDA. + + + + +MISS LURIDA VINCENT TO MRS. EUTHYMIA KIRKWOOD. + +It seems forever since you left us, dearest Euthymia! And are you, and +is your husband, and Paolo,--good Paolo,--are you all as well and happy +as you have been and as you ought to be? I suppose our small village +seems a very quiet sort of place to pass the winter in, now that you have +become accustomed to the noise and gayety of a great city. For all that, +it is a pretty busy place this winter, I can tell you. We have sleighing +parties,--I never go to them, myself, because I can't keep warm, and my +mind freezes up when my blood cools down below 95 or 96 deg. Fahrenheit. +I had a great deal rather sit by a good fire and read about Arctic +discoveries. But I like very well to hear the bells' jingling and to see +the young people trying to have a good time as hard as they do at a +picnic. It may be that they do, but to me a picnic is purgatory and a +sleigh-ride that other place, where, as my favorite Milton says, "frost +performs the effect of fire." I believe I have quoted him correctly; I +ought to, for I could repeat half his poems from memory once, if I cannot +now. + +You must have plenty of excitement in your city life. I suppose you +recognized yourself in one of the society columns of the "Household +Inquisitor:" "Mrs. E. K., very beautiful, in an elegant," etc., etc, +"with pearls," etc., etc.,--as if you were not the ornament of all that +you wear, no matter what it is! + +I am so glad that you have married a scholar! Why should not +Maurice--you both tell me to call him so--take the diplomatic office +which has been offered him? It seems to me that he would find himself in +exactly the right place. He can talk in two or three languages, has good +manners, and a wife who--well, what shall I say of Mrs. Kirkwood but that +"she would be good company for a queen," as our old friend the quondam +landlady of the Anchor Tavern used to say? I should so like to see you +presented at Court! It seems to me that I should be willing to hold your +train for the sake of seeing you in your court feathers and things. + +As for myself, I have been thinking of late that I would become either a +professional lecturer or head mistress of a great school or college for +girls. I have tried the first business a little. Last month I delivered +a lecture on Quaternions. I got three for my audience; two came over +from the Institute, and one from that men's college which they try to +make out to be a university, and where no female is admitted unless she +belongs among the quadrupeds. I enjoyed lecturing, but the subject is a +difficult one, and I don't think any one of them had any very clear +notion of what I was talking about, except Rhodora,--and I know she did +n't. To tell the truth, I was lecturing to instruct myself. I mean to +try something easier next time. I have thought of the Basque language +and literature. What do you say to that? + +The Society goes on famously. We have had a paper presented and read +lately which has greatly amused some of us and provoked a few of the +weaker sort. The writer is that crabbed old Professor of Belles-Lettres +at that men's college over there. He is dreadfully hard on the poor +"poets," as they call themselves. It seems that a great many young +persons, and more especially a great many young girls, of whom the +Institute has furnished a considerable proportion, have taken to sending +him their rhymed productions to be criticised,--expecting to be praised, +no doubt, every one of them. I must give you one of the sauciest +extracts from his paper in his own words: + +"It takes half my time to read the 'poems' sent me by young people of +both sexes. They would be more shy of doing it if they knew that I +recognize a tendency to rhyming as a common form of mental weakness, and +the publication of a thin volume of verse as prima facie evidence of +ambitious mediocrity, if not inferiority. Of course there are exceptions +to this rule of judgment, but I maintain that the presumption is always +against the rhymester as compared with the less pretentious persons about +him or her, busy with some useful calling,--too busy to be tagging +rhymed commonplaces together. Just now there seems to be an epidemic of +rhyming as bad as the dancing mania, or the sweating sickness. After +reading a certain amount of manuscript verse one is disposed to +anathematize the inventor of homophonous syllabification. [This phrase +made a great laugh when it was read.] This, that is rhyming, must have +been found out very early, + + "'Where are you, Adam?' + + "'Here am I, Madam;' + +"but it can never have been habitually practised until after the Fall. +The intrusion of tintinnabulating terminations into the conversational +intercourse of men and angels would have spoiled Paradise itself. Milton +would not have them even in Paradise Lost, you remember. For my own +part, I wish certain rhymes could be declared contraband of written or +printed language. Nothing should be allowed to be hurled at the world or +whirled with it, or furled upon it or curled over it; all eyes should be +kept away from the skies, in spite of os homini sublime dedit; youth +should be coupled with all the virtues except truth; earth should never +be reminded of her birth; death should never be allowed to stop a +mortal's breath, nor the bell to sound his knell, nor flowers from +blossoming bowers to wave over his grave or show their bloom upon his +tomb. We have rhyming dictionaries,--let us have one from which all +rhymes are rigorously excluded. The sight of a poor creature grubbing +for rhymes to fill up his sonnet, or to cram one of those voracious, +rhyme-swallowing rigmaroles which some of our drudging poetical +operatives have been exhausting themselves of late to satiate with +jingles, makes my head ache and my stomach rebel. Work, work of some +kind, is the business of men and women, not the making of jingles! +No,--no,--no! I want to see the young people in our schools and +academies and colleges, and the graduates of these institutions, lifted +up out of the little Dismal Swamp of self-contemplating and +self-indulging and self-commiserating emotionalism which is surfeiting +the land with those literary sandwiches,--thin slices of tinkling +sentimentality between two covers looking like hard-baked gilt +gingerbread. But what faces these young folks make up at my good advice! +They get tipsy on their rhymes. Nothing intoxicates one like his--or +her--own verses, and they hold on to their metre-ballad-mongering as the +fellows that inhale nitrous oxide hold on to the gas-bag." + +We laughed over this essay of the old Professor; though it hit us pretty +hard. The best part of the joke is that the old man himself published a +thin volume of poems when he was young, which there is good reason to +think he is not very proud of, as they say he buys up all the copies he +can find in the shops. No matter what they say, I can't help agreeing +with him about this great flood of "poetry," as it calls itself, and +looking at the rhyming mania much as he does. + +How I do love real poetry! That is the reason hate rhymes which have not +a particle of it in them. The foolish scribblers that deal in them are +like bad workmen in a carpenter's shop. They not only turn out bad jobs +of work, but they spoil the tools for better workmen. There is hardly a +pair of rhymes in the English language that is not so dulled and hacked +and gapped by these 'prentice hands that a master of the craft hates to +touch them, and yet he cannot very well do without them. I have not been +besieged as the old Professor has been with such multitudes of +would-be-poetical aspirants that he could not even read their +manuscripts, but I have had a good many letters containing verses, and I +have warned the writers of the delusion under which they were laboring. + +You may like to know that I have just been translating some extracts from +the Greek Anthology. I send you a few specimens of my work, with a +Dedication to the Shade of Sappho. I hope you will find something of the +Greek rhythm in my versions, and that I have caught a spark of +inspiration from the impassioned Lesbian. I have found great delight in +this work, at any rate, and am never so happy as when I read from my +manuscript or repeat from memory the lines into which I have transferred +the thought of the men and women of two thousand years ago, or given +rhythmical expression to my own rapturous feelings with regard to them. +I must read you my Dedication to the Shade of Sappho. I cannot help +thinking that you will like it better than either of my last two, The +Song of the Roses, or The Wail of the Weeds. + +How I do miss you, dearest! I want you: I want you to listen to what I +have written; I want you to hear all about my plans for the future; I +want to look at you, and think how grand it must be to feel one's self to +be such a noble and beautiful-creature; I want to wander in the woods +with you, to float on the lake, to share your life and talk over every +day's doings with you. Alas! I feel that we have parted as two friends +part at a port of embarkation: they embrace, they kiss each other's +cheeks, they cover their faces and weep, they try to speak good-by to +each other, they watch from the pier and from the deck; the two forms +grow less and less, fainter and fainter in the distance, two white +handkerchiefs flutter once and again, and yet once more, and the last +visible link of the chain which binds them has parted. Dear, dear, +dearest Euthymia, my eyes are running over with tears when I think that +we may never, never meet again. + +Don't you want some more items of village news? We are threatened with +an influx of stylish people: "Buttons" to answer the door-bell, in place +of the chamber-maid; "butler," in place of the "hired man;" footman in +top-boots and breeches, cockade on hat, arms folded a la Napoleon; +tandems, "drags," dogcarts, and go-carts of all sorts. It is rather +amusing to look at their ambitious displays, but it takes away the good +old country flavor of the place. + +I don't believe you mean to try to astonish us when you come back to +spend your summers here. I suppose you must have a large house, and I am +sure you will have a beautiful one. I suppose you will have some fine +horses, and who would n't be glad to? But I do not believe you will try +to make your old Arrowhead Village friends stare their eyes out of their +heads with a display meant to outshine everybody else that comes here. +You can have a yacht on the lake, if you like, but I hope you will pull a +pair of oars in our old boat once in a while, with me to steer you. I +know you will be just the same dear-Euthymia you always were and always +must be. How happy you must make such a man as Maurice Kirkwood! And +how happy you ought to be with him!--a man who knows what is in books, +and who has seen for himself, what is in men. If he has not seen so much +of women, where could he study all that is best in womanhood as he can in +his own wife? Only one thing that dear Euthymia lacks. She is not quite +pronounced enough in her views as to the rights and the wrongs of the +sex. When I visit you, as you say I shall, I mean to indoctrinate +Maurice with sound views on that subject. I have written an essay for +the Society, which I hope will go a good way towards answering all the +objections to female suffrage. I mean to read it to your husband, if you +will let me, as I know you will, and perhaps you would like to hear +it,--only you know my thoughts on the subject pretty well already. + +With all sorts of kind messages to your dear husband, and love to your +precious self, I am ever your +LURIDA. + + + + +DR. BUTTS TO MRS. EUTHYMIA KIRKWOOD. + +MY DEAR EUTHYMIA,--My pen refuses to call you by any other name. +Sweet-souled you are, and your Latinized Greek name is--the one which +truly designates you. I cannot tell you how we have followed you, with +what interest and delight through your travels, as you have told their +story in your letters to your mother. She has let us have the privilege +of reading them, and we have been with you in steamer, yacht, felucca, +gondola, Nile-boat; in all sorts of places, from crowded capitals to +"deserts where no men abide,"--everywhere keeping company with you in +your natural and pleasant descriptions of your experiences. And now that +you have returned to your home in the great city I must write you a few +lines of welcome, if nothing more. + +You will find Arrowhead Village a good deal changed since you left it. +We are discovered by some of those over-rich people who make the little +place upon which they swarm a kind of rural city. When this happens the +consequences are striking,--some of them desirable and some far +otherwise. The effect of well-built, well-furnished, well-kept houses +and of handsome grounds always maintained in good order about them shows +itself in a large circuit around the fashionable centre. Houses get on a +new coat of paint, fences are kept in better order, little plots of +flowers show themselves where only ragged weeds had rioted, the +inhabitants present themselves in more comely attire and drive in +handsomer vehicles with more carefully groomed horses. On the other +hand, there is a natural jealousy on the part of the natives of the +region suddenly become fashionable. They have seen the land they sold at +farm prices by the acre coming to be valued by the foot, like the corner +lots in a city. Their simple and humble modes of life look almost +poverty-stricken in the glare of wealth and luxury which so outshines +their plain way of living. It is true that many of them have found them +selves richer than in former days, when the neighborhood lived on its own +resources. They know how to avail themselves of their altered position, +and soon learn to charge city prices for country products; but nothing +can make people feel rich who see themselves surrounded by men whose +yearly income is many times their own whole capital. I think it would be +better if our rich men scattered themselves more than they do,--buying +large country estates, building houses and stables which will make it +easy to entertain their friends, and depending for society on chosen +guests rather than on the mob of millionaires who come together for +social rivalry. But I do not fret myself about it. Society will stratify +itself according to the laws of social gravitation. It will take a +generation or two more, perhaps, to arrange the strata by precipitation +and settlement, but we can always depend on one principle to govern the +arrangement of the layers. People interested in the same things will +naturally come together. The youthful heirs of fortunes who keep splendid +yachts have little to talk about with the oarsman who pulls about on the +lake or the river. What does young Dives, who drives his four-in-hand +and keeps a stable full of horses, care about Lazarus, who feels rich in +the possession of a horse-railroad ticket? You know how we live at our +house, plainly, but with a certain degree of cultivated propriety. We +make no pretensions to what is called "style." We are still in that +social stratum where the article called "a napkin-ring" is recognized as +admissible at the dinner-table. That fact sufficiently defines our +modest pretensions. The napkin-ring is the boundary mark between certain +classes. But one evening Mrs. Butts and I went out to a party given by +the lady of a worthy family, where the napkin itself was a newly +introduced luxury. The conversation of the hostess and her guests turned +upon details of the kitchen and the laundry; upon the best mode of +raising bread, whether with "emptins" (emptyings, yeast) or baking +powder; about "bluing" and starching and crimping, and similar matters. +Poor Mrs. Butts! She knew nothing more about such things than her +hostess did about Shakespeare and the musical glasses. What was the use +of trying to enforce social intercourse under such conditions? +Incompatibility of temper has been considered ground for a divorce; +incompatibility of interests is a sufficient warrant for social +separation. The multimillionaires have so much that is common among +themselves, and so little that they share with us of moderate means, that +they will naturally form a specialized class, and in virtue of their +palaces, their picture-galleries, their equipages, their yachts, their +large hospitality, constitute a kind of exclusive aristocracy. Religion, +which ought to be the great leveller, cannot reduce these elements to the +same grade. You may read in the parable, "Friend, how camest thou in +hither not having a wedding garment?" The modern version would be, "How +came you at Mrs. Billion's ball not having a dress on your back which +came from Paris?" + +The little church has got a new stained window, a saint who reminds me of +Hamlet's uncle,--a thing "of shreds and patches," but rather pretty to +look at, with an inscription under it which is supposed to be the name of +the person in whose honor the window was placed in the church. Smith was +a worthy man and a faithful churchwarden, and I hope posterity will be +able to spell out his name on his monumental window; but that old English +lettering would puzzle Mephistopheles himself, if he found himself before +this memorial tribute, on the inside,--you know he goes to church +sometimes, if you remember your Faust. + +The rector has come out, in a quiet way, as an evolutionist. He has +always been rather "broad" in his views, but cautious in their +expression. You can tell the three branches of the mother-island church +by the way they carry their heads. The low-church clergy look down, as +if they felt themselves to be worms of the dust; the high-church priest +drops his head on one side, after the pattern of the mediaeval saints; +the broad-church preacher looks forward and round about him, as if he +felt himself the heir of creation. Our rector carries his head in the +broad-church aspect, which I suppose is the least open to the charge of +affectation,--in fact, is the natural and manly way of carrying it. + +The Society has justified its name of Pansophian of late as never before. +Lurida has stirred up our little community and its neighbors, so that we +get essays on all sorts of subjects, poems and stories in large numbers. +I know all about it, for she often consults me as to the merits of a +particular contribution. + +What is to be the fate of Lurida? I often think, with no little interest +and some degree of anxiety, about her future. Her body is so frail and +her mind so excessively and constantly active that I am afraid one or the +other will give way. I do not suppose she thinks seriously of ever being +married. She grows more and more zealous in behalf of her own sex, and +sterner in her judgment of the other. She declares that she never would +marry any man who was not an advocate of female suffrage, and as these +gentlemen are not very common hereabouts the chance is against her +capturing any one of the hostile sex. + +What do you think? I happened, just as I was writing the last sentence, +to look out of my window, and whom should I see but Lurida, with a young +man in tow, listening very eagerly to her conversation, according to all +appearance! I think he must be a friend of the rector, as I have seen a +young man like this one in his company. Who knows? + +Affectionately yours, etc. + + + + +DR. BUTTS TO MRS. BUTTS. + +MY BELOVED WIFE,--This letter will tell you more news than you would have +thought could have been got together in this little village during the +short time you have been staying away from it. + +Lurida Vincent is engaged! He is a clergyman with a mathematical turn. +The story is that he put a difficult problem into one of the mathematical +journals, and that Lurida presented such a neat solution that the young +man fell in love with her on the strength of it. I don't think the story +is literally true, nor do I believe that other report that he offered +himself to her in the form of an equation chalked on the blackboard; but +that it was an intellectual rather than a sentimental courtship I do not +doubt. Lurida has given up the idea of becoming a professional +lecturer,--so she tells me,--thinking that her future husband's parish +will find her work enough to do. A certain amount of daily domestic +drudgery and unexciting intercourse with simple-minded people will be the +best thing in the world for that brain of hers, always simmering with +some new project in its least fervid condition. + +All our summer visitors have arrived. Euthymia Mrs. Maurice Kirkwood and +her husband and little Maurice are here in their beautiful house looking +out on the lake. They gave a grand party the other evening. You ought +to have been there, but I suppose you could not very well have left your +sister in the middle of your visit: All the grand folks were there, of +course. Lurida and her young man--Gabriel is what she calls him--were +naturally the objects of special attention. Paolo acted as major-domo, +and looked as if he ought to be a major-general. Nothing could be +pleasanter than the way in which Mr. and Mrs. Kirkwood received their +plain country neighbors; that is, just as they did the others of more +pretensions, as if they were really glad to see them, as I am sure they +were. The old landlord and his wife had two arm-chairs to themselves, +and I saw Miranda with the servants of the household looking in at the +dancers and out at the little groups in the garden, and evidently +enjoying it as much as her old employers. It was a most charming and +successful party. We had two sensations in the course of the evening. +One was pleasant and somewhat exciting, the other was thrilling and of +strange and startling interest. + +You remember how emaciated poor Maurice Kirkwood was left after his +fever, in that first season when he was among us. He was out in a boat +one day, when a ring slipped off his thin finger and sunk in a place +where the water was rather shallow. "Jake"--you know Jake,--everybody +knows Jake--was rowing him. He promised to come to the spot and fish up +the ring if he could possibly find it. He was seen poking about with +fish-hooks at the end of a pole, but nothing was ever heard from him +about the ring. It was an antique intaglio stone in an Etruscan +setting,--a wild goose flying over the Campagna. Mr. Kirkwood valued it +highly, and regretted its loss very much. + +While we were in the garden, who should appear at the gate but Jake, with +a great basket, inquiring for Mr. Kirkwood. "Come," said Maurice to me, +"let us see what our old friend the fisherman has brought us. What have +you got there, Jake?" + +"What I 've got? Wall, I 'll tell y' what I've got: I 've got the +biggest pickerel that's been ketched in this pond for these ten year. An' +I 've got somethin' else besides the pickerel. When I come to cut him +open, what do you think I faound in his insides but this here ring o' +yourn,"--and he showed the one Maurice had lost so long before. There it +was, as good as new, after having tried Jonah's style of housekeeping for +all that time. There are those who discredit Jake's story about finding +the ring in the fish; anyhow, there was the ring and there was the +pickerel. I need not say that Jake went off well paid for his pickerel +and the precious contents of its stomach. Now comes the chief event of +the evening. I went early by special invitation. Maurice took me into +his library, and we sat down together. + +"I have something of great importance," he said, "to say to you. I +learned within a few days that my cousin Laura is staying with a friend +in the next town to this. You know, doctor, that we have never met since +the last, almost fatal, experience of my early years. I have determined +to defy the strength of that deadly chain of associations connected with +her presence, and I have begged her to come this evening with the friends +with whom she is staying. Several letters passed between us, for it was +hard to persuade her that there was no longer any risk in my meeting her. +Her imagination was almost as deeply impressed as mine had been at those +alarming interviews, and I had to explain to her fully that I had become +quite indifferent to the disturbing impressions of former years. So, as +the result of our correspondence, Laura is coming this evening, and I +wish you to be present at our meeting. There is another reason why I +wish you to be here. My little boy is not far from the--age at which I +received my terrifying, almost disorganizing shock. I mean to have +little Maurice brought into the presence of Laura, who is said to be +still a very handsome woman, and see if he betrays any hint of that +peculiar sensitiveness which showed itself in my threatening seizure. It +seemed to me not impossible that he might inherit some tendency of that +nature, and I wanted you to be at hand if any sign of danger should +declare itself. For myself I have no fear. Some radical change has +taken place in my nervous system. I have been born again, as it were, in +my susceptibilities, and am in certain respects a new man. But I must +know how it is with my little Maurice." + +Imagine with what interest I looked forward to this experiment; for +experiment it was, and not without its sources of anxiety, as it seemed +to me. The evening wore along; friends and neighbors came in, but no +Laura as yet. At last I heard the sound of wheels, and a carriage +stopped at the door. Two ladies and a gentleman got out, and soon +entered the drawing room. + +"My cousin Laura!" whispered Maurice to me, and went forward to meet her. +A very handsome woman, who might well have been in the thirties,--one of +those women so thoroughly constituted that they cannot help being +handsome at every period of life. I watched them both as they approached +each other. Both looked pale at first, but Maurice soon recovered his +usual color, and Laura's natural, rich bloom came back by degrees. Their +emotion at meeting was not to be wondered at, but there was no trace in +it of the paralyzing influence on the great centres of life which had +once acted upon its fated victim like the fabled head which turned the +looker-on into a stone. + +"Is the boy still awake?" said Maurice to Paolo, who, as they used to say +of Pushee at the old Anchor Tavern, was everywhere at once on that gay +and busy evening. + +"What! Mahser Maurice asleep an' all this racket going on? I hear him +crowing like young cockerel when he fus' smell daylight." + +"Tell the nurse to bring him down quietly to the little room that leads +out of the library." + +The child was brought down in his night-clothes, wide awake, wondering +apparently at the noise he heard, which he seemed to think was for his +special amusement. + +"See if he will go to that lady," said his father. Both of us held our +breath as Laura stretched her arms towards little Maurice. + +The child looked for an instant searchingly, but fearlessly, at her +glowing cheeks, her bright eyes, her welcoming smile, and met her embrace +as she clasped him to her bosom as if he had known her all his days. + +The mortal antipathy had died out of the soul and the blood of Maurice +Kirkwood at that supreme moment when he found himself snatched from the +grasp of death and cradled in the arms of Euthymia. + + -------------------------- + +In closing the New Portfolio I remember that it began with a prefix which +the reader may by this time have forgotten, namely, the First Opening. +It was perhaps presumptuous to thus imply the probability of a second +opening. + +I am reminded from time to time by the correspondents who ask a certain +small favor of me that, as I can only expect to be with my surviving +contemporaries a very little while longer, they would be much obliged if +I would hurry up my answer before it is too late. They are right, these +delicious unknown friends of mine, in reminding me of a fact which I +cannot gainsay and might suffer to pass from my recollection. I thank +them for recalling my attention to a truth which I shall be wiser, if not +more hilarious, for remembering. + +No, I had no right to say the First Opening. How do I know that I shall +have a chance to open it again? How do I know that anybody will want it +to be opened a second time? How do I know that I shall feel like opening +it? It is safest neither to promise to open the New Portfolio once more, +nor yet to pledge myself to keep it closed hereafter. There are many +papers potentially existent in it, some of which might interest a reader +here and there. The Records of the Pansophian Society contain a +considerable number of essays, poems, stories, and hints capable of being +expanded into presentable dimensions. In the mean time I will say with +Prospero, addressing my old readers, and my new ones, if such I have, + + "If you be pleased, retire into my cell + And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk, + To still my beating mind." + +When it has got quiet I may take up the New Portfolio again, and consider +whether it is worth while to open it consider whether it is worth while +to open it. + + + + + + +PAGES FROM AN OLD VOLUME OF LIFE + +A COLLECTION OF ESSAYS + +By Oliver Wendell Holmes + + + +CONTENTS: + BREAD AND THE NEWSPAPER + MY HUNT AFTER "THE CAPTAIN" + THE INEVITABLE TRIAL + CINDERS FROM ASHES + THE PULPIT AND THE PEW + + + + +BREAD AND THE NEWSPAPER. + +(September, 1861.) + +This is the new version of the Panem et Circenses of the Roman populace. +It is our ultimatum, as that was theirs. They must have something to +eat, and the circus-shows to look at. We must have something to eat, and +the papers to read. + +Everything else we can give up. If we are rich, we can lay down our +carriages, stay away from Newport or Saratoga, and adjourn the trip to +Europe sine die. If we live in a small way, there are at least new +dresses and bonnets and every-day luxuries which we can dispense with. +If the young Zouave of the family looks smart in his new uniform, its +respectable head is content, though he himself grow seedy as a +caraway-umbel late in the season. He will cheerfully calm the perturbed +nap of his old beaver by patient brushing in place of buying a new one, +if only the Lieutenant's jaunty cap is what it should be. We all take a +pride in sharing the epidemic economy of the time. Only bread and the +newspaper we must have, whatever else we do without. + +How this war is simplifying our mode of being! We live on our emotions, +as the sick man is said in the common speech to be nourished by his +fever. Our ordinary mental food has become distasteful, and what would +have been intellectual luxuries at other times, are now absolutely +repulsive. + +All this change in our manner of existence implies that we have +experienced some very profound impression, which will sooner or later +betray itself in permanent effects on the minds and bodies of many among +us. We cannot forget Corvisart's observation of the frequency with which +diseases of the heart were noticed as the consequence of the terrible +emotions produced by the scenes of the great French Revolution. Laennec +tells the story of a convent, of which he was the medical director, where +all the nuns were subjected to the severest penances and schooled in the +most painful doctrines. They all became consumptive soon after their +entrance, so that, in the course of his ten years' attendance, all the +inmates died out two or three times, and were replaced by new ones. He +does not hesitate to attribute the disease from which they suffered to +those depressing moral influences to which they were subjected. + +So far we have noticed little more than disturbances of the nervous +system as a consequence of the war excitement in non-combatants. Take the +first trifling example which comes to our recollection. A sad disaster +to the Federal army was told the other day in the presence of two +gentlemen and a lady. Both the gentlemen complained of a sudden feeling +at the epigastrium, or, less learnedly, the pit of the stomach, changed +color, and confessed to a slight tremor about the knees. The lady had a +"grande revolution," as French patients say,--went home, and kept her bed +for the rest of the day. Perhaps the reader may smile at the mention of +such trivial indispositions, but in more sensitive natures death itself +follows in some cases from no more serious cause. An old, gentleman fell +senseless in fatal apoplexy, on hearing of Napoleon's return from Elba. +One of our early friends, who recently died of the same complaint, was +thought to have had his attack mainly in consequence of the excitements +of the time. + +We all know what the war fever is in our young men,--what a devouring +passion it becomes in those whom it assails. Patriotism is the fire of +it, no doubt, but this is fed with fuel of all sorts. The love of +adventure, the contagion of example, the fear of losing the chance of +participating in the great events of the time, the desire of personal +distinction, all help to produce those singular transformations which we +often witness, turning the most peaceful of our youth into the most +ardent of our soldiers. But something of the same fever in a different +form reaches a good many non-combatants, who have no thought of losing a +drop of precious blood belonging to themselves or their families. Some +of the symptoms we shall mention are almost universal; they are as plain +in the people we meet everywhere as the marks of an influenza, when that +is prevailing. + +The first is a nervous restlessness of a very peculiar character. Men +cannot think, or write, or attend to their ordinary business. They stroll +up and down the streets, or saunter out upon the public places. We +confessed to an illustrious author that we laid down the volume of his +work which we were reading when the war broke out. It was as interesting +as a romance, but the romance of the past grew pale before the red light +of the terrible present. Meeting the same author not long afterwards, he +confessed that he had laid down his pen at the same time that we had +closed his book. He could not write about the sixteenth century any more +than we could read about it, while the nineteenth was in the very agony +and bloody sweat of its great sacrifice. + +Another most eminent scholar told us in all simplicity that he had fallen +into such a state that he would read the same telegraphic dispatches over +and over again in different papers, as if they were new, until he felt as +if he were an idiot. Who did not do just the same thing, and does not +often do it still, now that the first flush of the fever is over? +Another person always goes through the side streets on his way for the +noon extra,--he is so afraid somebody will meet him and tell the news he +wishes to read, first on the bulletin-board, and then in the great +capitals and leaded type of the newspaper. + +When any startling piece of war-news comes, it keeps repeating itself in +our minds in spite of all we can do. The same trains of thought go +tramping round in circle through the brain, like the supernumeraries that +make up the grand army of a stage-show. Now, if a thought goes round +through the brain a thousand times in a day, it will have worn as deep a +track as one which has passed through it once a week for twenty years. +This accounts for the ages we seem to have lived since the twelfth of +April last, and, to state it more generally, for that ex post facto +operation of a great calamity, or any very powerful impression, which we +once illustrated by the image of a stain spreading backwards from the +leaf of life open before as through all those which we have already +turned. + +Blessed are those who can sleep quietly in times like these! Yet, not +wholly blessed, either; for what is more painful than the awaking from +peaceful unconsciousness to a sense that there is something wrong, we +cannot at first think what,--and then groping our way about through the +twilight of our thoughts until we come full upon the misery, which, like +some evil bird, seemed to have flown away, but which sits waiting for us +on its perch by our pillow in the gray of the morning? + +The converse of this is perhaps still more painful. Many have the +feeling in their waking hours that the trouble they are aching with is, +after all, only a dream,--if they will rub their eyes briskly enough and +shake themselves, they will awake out of it, and find all their supposed +grief is unreal. This attempt to cajole ourselves out of an ugly fact +always reminds us of those unhappy flies who have been indulging in the +dangerous sweets of the paper prepared for their especial use. + +Watch one of them. He does not feel quite well,--at least, he suspects +himself of indisposition. Nothing serious,--let us just rub our +fore-feet together, as the enormous creature who provides for us rubs his +hands, and all will be right. He rubs them with that peculiar twisting +movement of his, and pauses for the effect. No! all is not quite right +yet. Ah! it is our head that is not set on just as it ought to be. Let +us settle that where it should be, and then we shall certainly be in good +trim again. So he pulls his head about as an old lady adjusts her cap, +and passes his fore-paw over it like a kitten washing herself. Poor +fellow! It is not a fancy, but a fact, that he has to deal with. If he +could read the letters at the head of the sheet, he would see they were +Fly-Paper.--So with us, when, in our waking misery, we try to think we +dream! Perhaps very young persons may not understand this; as we grow +older, our waking and dreaming life run more and more into each other. + +Another symptom of our excited condition is seen in the breaking up of +old habits. The newspaper is as imperious as a Russian Ukase; it will be +had, and it will be read. To this all else must give place. If we must +go out at unusual hours to get it, we shall go, in spite of after-dinner +nap or evening somnolence. If it finds us in company, it will not stand +on ceremony, but cuts short the compliment and the story by the divine +right of its telegraphic dispatches. + +War is a very old story, but it is a new one to this generation of +Americans. Our own nearest relation in the ascending line remembers the +Revolution well. How should she forget it? Did she not lose her doll, +which was left behind, when she was carried out of Boston, about that +time growing uncomfortable by reason of cannon-balls dropping in from the +neighboring heights at all hours,--in token of which see the tower of +Brattle Street Church at this very day? War in her memory means '76. As +for the brush of 1812, "we did not think much about that"; and everybody +knows that the Mexican business did not concern us much, except in its +political relations. No! war is a new thing to all of us who are not in +the last quarter of their century. We are learning many strange matters +from our fresh experience. And besides, there are new conditions of +existence which make war as it is with us very different from war as it +has been. + +The first and obvious difference consists in the fact that the whole +nation is now penetrated by the ramifications of a network of iron nerves +which flash sensation and volition backward and forward to and from towns +and provinces as if they were organs and limbs of a single living body. +The second is the vast system of iron muscles which, as it were, move the +limbs of the mighty organism one upon another. What was the +railroad-force which put the Sixth Regiment in Baltimore on the 19th of +April but a contraction and extension of the arm of Massachusetts with a +clenched fist full of bayonets at the end of it? + +This perpetual intercommunication, joined to the power of instantaneous +action, keeps us always alive with excitement. It is not a breathless +courier who comes back with the report from an army we have lost sight of +for a month, nor a single bulletin which tells us all we are to know for +a week of some great engagement, but almost hourly paragraphs, laden with +truth or falsehood as the case may be, making us restless always for the +last fact or rumor they are telling. And so of the movements of our +armies. To-night the stout lumbermen of Maine are encamped under their +own fragrant pines. In a score or two of hours they are among the +tobacco-fields and the slave-pens of Virginia. The war passion burned +like scattered coals of fire in the households of Revolutionary times; +now it rushes all through the land like a flame over the prairie. And +this instant diffusion of every fact and feeling produces another +singular effect in the equalizing and steadying of public opinion. We +may not be able to see a month ahead of us; but as to what has passed a +week afterwards it is as thoroughly talked out and judged as it would +have been in a whole season before our national nervous system was +organized. + + "As the wild tempest wakes the slumbering sea, + Thou only teachest all that man can be!" + +We indulged in the above apostrophe to War in a Phi Beta Kappa poem of +long ago, which we liked better before we read Mr. Cutler's beautiful +prolonged lyric delivered at the recent anniversary of that Society. + +Oftentimes, in paroxysms of peace and good-will towards all mankind, we +have felt twinges of conscience about the passage,--especially when one +of our orators showed us that a ship of war costs as much to build and +keep as a college, and that every port-hole we could stop would give us a +new professor. Now we begin to think that there was some meaning in our +poor couplet. War has taught us, as nothing else could, what we can be +and are. It has exalted our manhood and our womanhood, and driven us all +back upon our substantial human qualities, for a long time more or less +kept out of sight by the spirit of commerce, the love of art, science, or +literature, or other qualities not belonging to all of us as men and +women. + +It is at this very moment doing more to melt away the petty social +distinctions which keep generous souls apart from each other, than the +preaching of the Beloved Disciple himself would do. We are finding out +that not only "patriotism is eloquence," but that heroism is gentility. +All ranks are wonderfully equalized under the fire of a masked battery. +The plain artisan or the rough fireman, who faces the lead and iron like +a man, is the truest representative we can show of the heroes of Crecy +and Agincourt. And if one of our fine gentlemen puts off his +straw-colored kids and stands by the other, shoulder to shoulder, or +leads him on to the attack, he is as honorable in our eyes and in theirs +as if he were ill-dressed and his hands were soiled with labor. + +Even our poor "Brahmins,"--whom a critic in ground-glass spectacles (the +same who grasps his statistics by the blade and strikes at his supposed +antagonist with the handle) oddly confounds with the, "bloated +aristocracy;" whereas they are very commonly pallid, undervitalized, shy, +sensitive creatures, whose only birthright is an aptitude for +learning,--even these poor New England Brahmins of ours, subvirates of an +organizable base as they often are, count as full men, if their courage +is big enough for the uniform which hangs so loosely about their slender +figures. + +A young man was drowned not very long ago in the river running under our +windows. A few days afterwards a field piece was dragged to the water's +edge, and fired many times over the river. We asked a bystander, who +looked like a fisherman, what that was for. It was to "break the gall," +he said, and so bring the drowned person to the surface. A strange +physiological fancy and a very odd non sequitur; but that is not our +present point. A good many extraordinary objects do really come to the +surface when the great guns of war shake the waters, as when they roared +over Charleston harbor. + +Treason came up, hideous, fit only to be huddled into its dishonorable +grave. But the wrecks of precious virtues, which had been covered with +the waves of prosperity, came up also. And all sorts of unexpected and +unheard-of things, which had lain unseen during our national life of +fourscore years, came up and are coming up daily, shaken from their bed +by the concussions of the artillery bellowing around us. + +It is a shame to own it, but there were persons otherwise respectable not +unwilling to say that they believed the old valor of Revolutionary times +had died out from among us. They talked about our own Northern people as +the English in the last centuries used to talk about the +French,--Goldsmith's old soldier, it may be remembered, called one +Englishman good for five of them. As Napoleon spoke of the English, +again, as a nation of shopkeepers, so these persons affected to consider +the multitude of their countrymen as unwarlike artisans,--forgetting that +Paul Revere taught himself the value of liberty in working upon gold, and +Nathaniel Greene fitted himself to shape armies in the labor of forging +iron. These persons have learned better now. The bravery of our free +working-people was overlaid, but not smothered; sunken, but not drowned. +The hands which had been busy conquering the elements had only to change +their weapons and their adversaries, and they were as ready to conquer +the masses of living force opposed to them as they had been to build +towns, to dam rivers, to hunt whales, to harvest ice, to hammer brute +matter into every shape civilization can ask for. + +Another great fact came to the surface, and is coming up every day in new +shapes,--that we are one people. It is easy to say that a man is a man +in Maine or Minnesota, but not so easy to feel it, all through our bones +and marrow. The camp is deprovincializing us very fast. Brave Winthrop, +marching with the city elegants, seems to have been a little startled to +find how wonderfully human were the hard-handed men of the Eighth +Massachusetts. It takes all the nonsense out of everybody, or ought to +do it, to see how fairly the real manhood of a country is distributed +over its surface. And then, just as we are beginning to think our own +soil has a monopoly of heroes as well as of cotton, up turns a regiment +of gallant Irishmen, like the Sixty-ninth, to show us that continental +provincialism is as bad as that of Coos County, New Hampshire, or of +Broadway, New York. + +Here, too, side by side in the same great camp, are half a dozen +chaplains, representing half a dozen modes of religious belief. When the +masked battery opens, does the "Baptist" Lieutenant believe in his heart +that God takes better care of him than of his "Congregationalist" +Colonel? Does any man really suppose, that, of a score of noble young +fellows who have just laid down their lives for their country, the +Homoousians are received to the mansions of bliss, and the Homoousians +translated from the battle-field to the abodes of everlasting woe? War +not only teaches what man can be, but it teaches also what he must not +be. He must not be a bigot and a fool in the presence of that day of +judgment proclaimed by the trumpet which calls to battle, and where a man +should have but two thoughts: to do his duty, and trust his Maker. Let +our brave dead come back from the fields where they have fallen for law +and liberty, and if you will follow them to their graves, you will find +out what the Broad Church means; the narrow church is sparing of its +exclusive formulae over the coffins wrapped in the flag which the fallen +heroes had defended! Very little comparatively do we hear at such times +of the dogmas on which men differ; very much of the faith and trust in +which all sincere Christians can agree. It is a noble lesson, and +nothing less noisy than the voice of cannon can teach it so that it shall +be heard over all the angry cries of theological disputants. + +Now, too, we have a chance to test the sagacity of our friends, and to +get at their principles of judgment. Perhaps most, of us, will agree +that our faith in domestic prophets has been diminished by the experience +of the last six months. We had the notable predictions attributed to the +Secretary of State, which so unpleasantly refused to fulfil themselves. +We were infested at one time with a set of ominous-looking seers, who +shook their heads and muttered obscurely about some mighty preparations +that were making to substitute the rule of the minority for that of the +majority. Organizations were darkly hinted at; some thought our armories +would be seized; and there are not wanting ancient women in the +neighboring University town who consider that the country was saved by +the intrepid band of students who stood guard, night after night, over +the G. R. cannon and the pile of balls in the Cambridge Arsenal. + +As a general rule, it is safe to say that the best prophecies are those +which the sages remember after the event prophesied of has come to pass, +and remind us that they have made long ago. Those who, are rash enough +to predict publicly beforehand commonly give us what they hope, or what +they fear, or some conclusion from an abstraction of their own, or some +guess founded on private information not half so good as what everybody +gets who reads the papers,--never by any possibility a word that we can +depend on, simply because there are cobwebs of contingency between every +to-day and to-morrow that no field-glass can penetrate when fifty of them +lie woven one over another. Prophesy as much as you like, but always +hedge. Say that you think the rebels are weaker than is commonly +supposed, but, on the other hand, that they may prove to be even stronger +than is anticipated. Say what you like,--only don't be too peremptory +and dogmatic; we know that wiser men than you have been notoriously +deceived in their predictions in this very matter. + + Ibis et redibis nunquam in bello peribis. + +Let that be your model; and remember, on peril of your reputation as a +prophet, not to put a stop before or after the nunquam. + +There are two or three facts connected with time, besides that already +referred to, which strike us very forcibly in their relation to the great +events passing around us. We spoke of the long period seeming to have +elapsed since this war began. The buds were then swelling which held the +leaves that are still green. It seems as old as Time himself. We cannot +fail to observe how the mind brings together the scenes of to-day and +those of the old Revolution. We shut up eighty years into each other +like the joints of a pocket-telescope. When the young men from Middlesex +dropped in Baltimore the other day, it seemed to bring Lexington and the +other Nineteenth of April close to us. War has always been the mint in +which the world's history has been coined, and now every day or week or +month has a new medal for us. It was Warren that the first impression +bore in the last great coinage; if it is Ellsworth now, the new face +hardly seems fresher than the old. All battle-fields are alike in their +main features. The young fellows who fell in our earlier struggle seemed +like old men to us until within these few months; now we remember they +were like these fiery youth we are cheering as they go to the fight; it +seems as if the grass of our bloody hillside was crimsoned but yesterday, +and the cannon-ball imbedded in the church-tower would feel warm, if we +laid our hand upon it. + +Nay, in this our quickened life we feel that all the battles from +earliest time to our own day, where Right and Wrong have grappled, are +but one great battle, varied with brief pauses or hasty bivouacs upon the +field of conflict. The issues seem to vary, but it is always a right +against a claim, and, however the struggle of the hour may go, a movement +onward of the campaign, which uses defeat as well as victory to serve its +mighty ends. The very implements of our warfare change less than we +think. Our bullets and cannonballs have lengthened into bolts like those +which whistled out of old arbalests. Our soldiers fight with weapons, +such as are pictured on the walls of Theban tombs, wearing a newly +invented head-gear as old as the days of the Pyramids. + +Whatever miseries this war brings upon us, it is making us wiser, and, we +trust, better. Wiser, for we are learning our weakness, our narrowness, +our selfishness, our ignorance, in lessons of sorrow and shame. Better, +because all that is noble in men and women is demanded by the time, and +our people are rising to the standard the time calls for. For this is +the question the hour is putting to each of us: Are you ready, if need +be, to sacrifice all that you have and hope for in this world, that the +generations to follow you may inherit a whole country whose natural +condition shall be peace, and not a broken province which must live under +the perpetual threat, if not in the constant presence, of war and all +that war brings with it? If we are all ready for this sacrifice, battles +may be lost, but the campaign and its grand object must be won. + +Heaven is very kind in its way of putting questions to mortals. We are +not abruptly asked to give up all that we most care for, in view of the +momentous issues before us. Perhaps we shall never be asked to give up +all, but we have already been called upon to part with much that is dear +to us, and should be ready to yield the rest as it is called for. The +time may come when even the cheap public print shall be a burden our +means cannot support, and we can only listen in the square that was once +the marketplace to the voices of those who proclaim defeat or victory. +Then there will be only our daily food left. When we have nothing to +read and nothing to eat, it will be a favorable moment to offer a +compromise. At present we have all that nature absolutely demands,--we +can live on bread and the newspaper. + + + + +MY HUNT AFTER "THE CAPTAIN." + +In the dead of the night which closed upon the bloody field of Antietam, +my household was startled from its slumbers by the loud summons of a +telegraphic messenger. The air had been heavy all day with rumors of +battle, and thousands and tens of thousands had walked the streets with +throbbing hearts, in dread anticipation of the tidings any hour might +bring. + +We rose hastily, and presently the messenger was admitted. I took the +envelope from his hand, opened it, and read: + +HAGERSTOWN 17th + +To__________ H ______ + +Capt H______ wounded shot through the neck thought not mortal at +Keedysville +WILLIAM G. LEDUC + +Through the neck,--no bullet left in wound. Windpipe, food-pipe, +carotid, jugular, half a dozen smaller, but still formidable vessels, a +great braid of nerves, each as big as a lamp-wick, spinal cord,--ought +to kill at once, if at all. Thought not mortal, or not thought +mortal,--which was it? The first; that is better than the second would +be.--"Keedysville, a post-office, Washington Co., Maryland." Leduc? +Leduc? Don't remember that name. The boy is waiting for his money. A +dollar and thirteen cents. Has nobody got thirteen cents? Don't keep +that boy waiting,--how do we know what messages he has got to carry? + +The boy had another message to carry. It was to the father of +Lieutenant-Colonel Wilder Dwight, informing him that his son was +grievously wounded in the same battle, and was lying at Boonsborough, a +town a few miles this side of Keedysville. This I learned the next +morning from the civil and attentive officials at the Central Telegraph +Office. + +Calling upon this gentleman, I found that he meant to leave in the +quarter past two o'clock train, taking with him Dr. George H. Gay, an +accomplished and energetic surgeon, equal to any difficult question or +pressing emergency. I agreed to accompany them, and we met in the cars. +I felt myself peculiarly fortunate in having companions whose society +would be a pleasure, whose feelings would harmonize with my own, and +whose assistance I might, in case of need, be glad to claim. + +It is of the journey which we began together, and which I finished apart, +that I mean to give my "Atlantic" readers an account. They must let me +tell my story in my own way, speaking of many little matters that +interested or amused me, and which a certain leisurely class of elderly +persons, who sit at their firesides and never travel, will, I hope, +follow with a kind of interest. For, besides the main object of my +excursion, I could not help being excited by the incidental sights and +occurrences of a trip which to a commercial traveller or a +newspaper-reporter would seem quite commonplace and undeserving of +record. There are periods in which all places and people seem to be in a +conspiracy to impress us with their individuality, in which every +ordinary locality seems to assume a special significance and to claim a +particular notice, in which every person we meet is either an old +acquaintance or a character; days in which the strangest coincidences are +continually happening, so that they get to be the rule, and not the +exception. Some might naturally think that anxiety and the weariness of +a prolonged search after a near relative would have prevented my taking +any interest in or paying any regard to the little matters around me. +Perhaps it had just the contrary effect, and acted like a diffused +stimulus upon the attention. When all the faculties are wide-awake in +pursuit of a single object, or fixed in the spasm of an absorbing +emotion, they are oftentimes clairvoyant in a marvellous degree in +respect to many collateral things, as Wordsworth has so forcibly +illustrated in his sonnet on the Boy of Windermere, and as Hawthorne has +developed with such metaphysical accuracy in that chapter of his wondrous +story where Hester walks forth to meet her punishment. + +Be that as it may,--though I set out with a full and heavy heart, though +many times my blood chilled with what were perhaps needless and unwise +fears, though I broke through all my habits without thinking about them, +which is almost as hard in certain circumstances as for one of our young +fellows to leave his sweetheart and go into a Peninsular campaign, though +I did not always know when I was hungry nor discover that I was +thirsting, though I had a worrying ache and inward tremor underlying all +the outward play of the senses and the mind, yet it is the simple truth +that I did look out of the car-windows with an eye for all that passed, +that I did take cognizance of strange sights and singular people, that I +did act much as persons act from the ordinary promptings of curiosity, +and from time to time even laugh very much as others do who are attacked +with a convulsive sense of the ridiculous, the epilepsy of the diaphragm. + +By a mutual compact, we talked little in the cars. A communicative +friend is the greatest nuisance to have at one's side during a railroad +journey, especially if his conversation is stimulating and in itself +agreeable. "A fast train and a 'slow' neighbor," is my motto. Many +times, when I have got upon the cars, expecting to be magnetized into an +hour or two of blissful reverie, my thoughts shaken up by the vibrations +into all sorts of new and pleasing patterns, arranging themselves in +curves and nodal points, like the grains of sand in Chladni's famous +experiment,--fresh ideas coming up to the surface, as the kernels do when +a measure of corn is jolted in a farmer's wagon,--all this without +volition, the mechanical impulse alone keeping the thoughts in motion, as +the mere act of carrying certain watches in the pocket keeps them wound +up,--many times, I say, just as my brain was beginning to creep and hum +with this delicious locomotive intoxication, some dear detestable friend, +cordial, intelligent, social, radiant, has come up and sat down by me and +opened a conversation which has broken my day-dream, unharnessed the +flying horses that were whirling along my fancies and hitched on the old +weary omnibus-team of every-day associations, fatigued my hearing and +attention, exhausted my voice, and milked the breasts of my thought dry +during the hour when they should have been filling themselves full of +fresh juices. My friends spared me this trial. + +So, then, I sat by the window and enjoyed the slight tipsiness produced +by short, limited, rapid oscillations, which I take to be the +exhilarating stage of that condition which reaches hopeless inebriety in +what we know as sea-sickness. Where the horizon opened widely, it +pleased me to watch the curious effect of the rapid movement of near +objects contrasted with the slow motion of distant ones. Looking from a +right-hand window, for instance, the fences close by glide swiftly +backward, or to the right, while the distant hills not only do not appear +to move backward, but look by contrast with the fences near at hand as if +they were moving forward, or to the left; and thus the whole landscape +becomes a mighty wheel revolving about an imaginary axis somewhere in the +middle-distance. + +My companions proposed to stay at one of the best-known and +longest-established of the New-York caravansaries, and I accompanied +them. We were particularly well lodged, and not uncivilly treated. The +traveller who supposes that he is to repeat the melancholy experience of +Shenstone, and have to sigh over the reflection that he has found "his +warmest welcome at an inn," has something to learn at the offices of the +great city hotels. The unheralded guest who is honored by mere +indifference may think himself blessed with singular good-fortune. If +the despot of the Patent-Annunciator is only mildly contemptuous in his +manner, let the victim look upon it as a personal favor. The coldest +welcome that a threadbare curate ever got at the door of a bishop's +palace, the most icy reception that a country cousin ever received at the +city mansion of a mushroom millionaire, is agreeably tepid, compared to +that which the Rhadamanthus who dooms you to the more or less elevated +circle of his inverted Inferno vouchsafes, as you step up to enter your +name on his dog's-eared register. I have less hesitation in unburdening +myself of this uncomfortable statement, as on this particular trip I met +with more than one exception to the rule. Officials become brutalized, I +suppose, as a matter of course. One cannot expect an office clerk to +embrace tenderly every stranger who comes in with a carpet-bag, or a +telegraph operator to burst into tears over every unpleasant message he +receives for transmission. Still, humanity is not always totally +extinguished in these persons. I discovered a youth in a telegraph +office of the Continental Hotel, in Philadelphia, who was as pleasant in +conversation, and as graciously responsive to inoffensive questions, as +if I had been his childless opulent uncle and my will not made. + +On the road again the next morning, over the ferry, into the cars with +sliding panels and fixed windows, so that in summer the whole side of the +car maybe made transparent. New Jersey is, to the apprehension of a +traveller, a double-headed suburb rather than a State. Its dull red dust +looks like the dried and powdered mud of a battle-field. Peach-trees are +common, and champagne-orchards. Canal-boats, drawn by mules, swim by, +feeling their way along like blind men led by dogs. I had a mighty +passion come over me to be the captain of one,--to glide back and forward +upon a sea never roughened by storms,--to float where I could not +sink,--to navigate where there is no shipwreck,--to lie languidly on the +deck and govern the huge craft by a word or the movement of a finger: +there was something of railroad intoxication in the fancy: but who has +not often envied a cobbler in his stall? + +The boys cry the "N'-York Heddle," instead of "Herald"; I remember that +years ago in Philadelphia; we must be getting near the farther end of the +dumb-bell suburb. A bridge has been swept away by a rise of the waters, +so we must approach Philadelphia by the river. Her physiognomy is not +distinguished; nez camus, as a Frenchman would say; no illustrious +steeple, no imposing tower; the water-edge of the town looking +bedraggled, like the flounce of a vulgar rich woman's dress that trails +on the sidewalk. The New Ironsides lies at one of the wharves, +elephantine in bulk and color, her sides narrowing as they rise, like the +walls of a hock-glass. + +I went straight to the house in Walnut Street where the Captain would be +heard of, if anywhere in this region. His lieutenant-colonel was there, +gravely wounded; his college-friend and comrade in arms, a son of the +house, was there, injured in a similar way; another soldier, brother of +the last, was there, prostrate with fever. A fourth bed was waiting +ready for the Captain, but not one word had been heard of him, though +inquiries had been made in the towns from and through which the father +had brought his two sons and the lieutenant-colonel. And so my search is, +like a "Ledger" story, to be continued. + +I rejoined my companions in time to take the noon-train for Baltimore. +Our company was gaining in number as it moved onwards. We had found upon +the train from New York a lovely, lonely lady, the wife of one of our +most spirited Massachusetts officers, the brave Colonel of the __th +Regiment, going to seek her wounded husband at Middletown, a place lying +directly in our track. She was the light of our party while we were +together on our pilgrimage, a fair, gracious woman, gentle, but +courageous, + + ---"ful plesant and amiable of port, + ---estatelich of manere, + And to ben holden digne of reverence." + +On the road from Philadelphia, I found in the same car with our party Dr. +William Hunt of Philadelphia, who had most kindly and faithfully attended +the Captain, then the Lieutenant, after a wound received at Ball's Bluff, +which came very near being mortal. He was going upon an errand of mercy +to the wounded, and found he had in his memorandum-book the name of our +lady's husband, the Colonel, who had been commended to his particular +attention. + +Not long after leaving Philadelphia, we passed a solitary sentry keeping +guard over a short railroad bridge. It was the first evidence that we +were approaching the perilous borders, the marches where the North and +the South mingle their angry hosts, where the extremes of our so-called +civilization meet in conflict, and the fierce slave-driver of the Lower +Mississippi stares into the stern eyes of the forest-feller from the +banks of the Aroostook. All the way along, the bridges were guarded more +or less strongly. In a vast country like ours, communications play a far +more complex part than in Europe, where the whole territory available for +strategic purposes is so comparatively limited. Belgium, for instance, +has long been the bowling-alley where kings roll cannon-balls at each +other's armies; but here we are playing the game of live ninepins without +any alley. + +We were obliged to stay in Baltimore over night, as we were too late for +the train to Frederick. At the Eutaw House, where we found both comfort +and courtesy, we met a number of friends, who beguiled the evening hours +for us in the most agreeable manner. We devoted some time to procuring +surgical and other articles, such as might be useful to our friends, or +to others, if our friends should not need them. In the morning, I found +myself seated at the breakfast-table next to General Wool. It did not +surprise me to find the General very far from expansive. With Fort +McHenry on his shoulders and Baltimore in his breeches-pocket, and the +weight of a military department loading down his social safety-valves, I +thought it a great deal for an officer in his trying position to select +so very obliging and affable an aid as the gentleman who relieved him of +the burden of attending to strangers. + +We left the Eutaw House, to take the cars for Frederick. As we stood +waiting on the platform, a telegraphic message was handed in silence to +my companion. Sad news: the lifeless body of the son he was hastening to +see was even now on its way to him in Baltimore. It was no time for +empty words of consolation: I knew what he had lost, and that now was not +the time to intrude upon a grief borne as men bear it, felt as women feel +it. + +Colonel Wilder Dwight was first made known to me as the friend of a +beloved relative of my own, who was with him during a severe illness in +Switzerland; and for whom while living, and for whose memory when dead, +he retained the warmest affection. Since that the story of his noble +deeds of daring, of his capture and escape, and a brief visit home before +he was able to rejoin his regiment, had made his name familiar to many +among us, myself among the number. His memory has been honored by those +who had the largest opportunity of knowing his rare promise, as a man of +talents and energy of nature. His abounding vitality must have produced +its impression on all who met him; there was a still fire about him which +any one could see would blaze up to melt all difficulties and recast +obstacles into implements in the mould of an heroic will. These elements +of his character many had the chance of knowing; but I shall always +associate him with the memory of that pure and noble friendship which +made me feel that I knew him before I looked upon his face, and added a +personal tenderness to the sense of loss which I share with the whole +community. + +Here, then, I parted, sorrowfully, from the companions with whom I set +out on my journey. + +In one of the cars, at the same station, we met General Shriver of +Frederick, a most loyal Unionist, whose name is synonymous with a hearty +welcome to all whom he can aid by his counsel and his hospitality. He +took great pains to give us all the information we needed, and expressed +the hope, which was afterwards fulfilled, to the great gratification of +some of us, that we should meet again when he should return to his home. + +There was nothing worthy of special note in the trip to Frederick, except +our passing a squad of Rebel prisoners, whom I missed seeing, as they +flashed by, but who were said to be a most forlorn-looking crowd of +scarecrows. Arrived at the Monocacy River, about three miles this side +of Frederick, we came to a halt, for the railroad bridge had been blown +up by the Rebels, and its iron pillars and arches were lying in the bed +of the river. The unfortunate wretch who fired the train was killed by +the explosion, and lay buried hard by, his hands sticking out of the +shallow grave into which he had been huddled. This was the story they +told us, but whether true or not I must leave to the correspondents of +"Notes and Queries" to settle. + +There was a great confusion of carriages and wagons at the stopping-place +of the train, so that it was a long time before I could get anything that +would carry us. At last I was lucky enough to light on a sturdy wagon, +drawn by a pair of serviceable bays, and driven by James Grayden, with +whom I was destined to have a somewhat continued acquaintance. We took +up a little girl who had been in Baltimore during the late Rebel inroad. +It made me think of the time when my own mother, at that time six years +old, was hurried off from Boston, then occupied by the British soldiers, +to Newburyport, and heard the people saying that "the redcoats were +coming, killing and murdering everybody as they went along." Frederick +looked cheerful for a place that had so recently been in an enemy's +hands. Here and there a house or shop was shut up, but the national +colors were waving in all directions, and the general aspect was peaceful +and contented. I saw no bullet-marks or other sign of the fighting which +had gone on in the streets. The Colonel's lady was taken in charge by a +daughter of that hospitable family to which we had been commended by its +head, and I proceeded to inquire for wounded officers at the various +temporary hospitals. + +At the United States Hotel, where many were lying, I heard mention of an +officer in an upper chamber, and, going there, found Lieutenant Abbott, +of the Twentieth Massachusetts Volunteers, lying ill with what looked +like typhoid fever. While there, who should come in but the almost +ubiquitous Lieutenant Wilkins, of the same Twentieth, whom I had met +repeatedly before on errands of kindness or duty, and who was just from +the battle-ground. He was going to Boston in charge of the body of the +lamented Dr. Revere, the Assistant Surgeon of the regiment, killed on the +field. From his lips I learned something of the mishaps of the regiment. +My Captain's wound he spoke of as less grave than at first thought; but +he mentioned incidentally having heard a story recently that he was +killed,--a fiction, doubtless,--a mistake,--a palpable absurdity,--not to +be remembered or made any account of. Oh no! but what dull ache is this +in that obscurely sensitive region, somewhere below the heart, where the +nervous centre called the semilunar ganglion lies unconscious of itself +until a great grief or a mastering anxiety reaches it through all the +non-conductors which isolate it from ordinary impressions? I talked +awhile with Lieutenant Abbott, who lay prostrate, feeble, but +soldier-like and uncomplaining, carefully waited upon by a most excellent +lady, a captain's wife, New England born, loyal as the Liberty on a +golden ten-dollar piece, and of lofty bearing enough to have sat for that +goddess's portrait. She had stayed in Frederick through the Rebel +inroad, and kept the star-spangled banner where it would be safe, to +unroll it as the last Rebel hoofs clattered off from the pavement of the +town. + +Near by Lieutenant Abbott was an unhappy gentleman, occupying a small +chamber, and filling it with his troubles. When he gets well and plump, +I know he will forgive me if I confess that I could not help smiling in +the midst of my sympathy for him. He had been a well-favored man, he +said, sweeping his hand in a semicircle, which implied that his +acute-angled countenance had once filled the goodly curve he described. +He was now a perfect Don Quixote to look upon. Weakness had made him +querulous, as it does all of us, and he piped his grievances to me in a +thin voice, with that finish of detail which chronic invalidism alone can +command. He was starving,--he could not get what he wanted to eat. He +was in need of stimulants, and he held up a pitiful two-ounce phial +containing three thimblefuls--of brandy,--his whole stock of that +encouraging article. Him I consoled to the best of my ability, and +afterwards, in some slight measure, supplied his wants. Feed this poor +gentleman up, as these good people soon will, and I should not know him, +nor he himself. We are all egotists in sickness and debility. An animal +has been defined as "a stomach ministered to by organs;" and the greatest +man comes very near this simple formula after a month or two of fever and +starvation. + +James Grayden and his team pleased me well enough, and so I made a +bargain with him to take us, the lady and myself, on our further journey +as far as Middletown. As we were about starting from the front of the +United States Hotel, two gentlemen presented themselves and expressed a +wish to be allowed to share our conveyance. I looked at them and +convinced myself that they were neither Rebels in disguise, nor +deserters, nor camp-followers, nor miscreants, but plain, honest men on a +proper errand. The first of them I will pass over briefly. He was a +young man of mild and modest demeanor, chaplain to a Pennsylvania +regiment, which he was going to rejoin. He belonged to the Moravian +Church, of which I had the misfortune to know little more than what I had +learned from Southey's "Life of Wesley." and from the exquisite hymns we +have borrowed from its rhapsodists. The other stranger was a New +Englander of respectable appearance, with a grave, hard, honest, +hay-bearded face, who had come to serve the sick and wounded on the +battle-field and in its immediate neighborhood. There is no reason why I +should not mention his name, but I shall content myself with calling him +the Philanthropist. + +So we set forth, the sturdy wagon, the serviceable bays, with James +Grayden their driver, the gentle lady, whose serene patience bore up +through all delays and discomforts, the Chaplain, the Philanthropist, and +myself, the teller of this story. + +And now, as we emerged from Frederick, we struck at once upon the trail +from the great battle-field. The road was filled with straggling and +wounded soldiers. All who could travel on foot,--multitudes with slight +wounds of the upper limbs, the head, or face,--were told to take up +their beds,--alight burden or none at all,--and walk. Just as the +battle-field sucks everything into its red vortex for the conflict, so +does it drive everything off in long, diverging rays after the fierce +centripetal forces have met and neutralized each other. For more than a +week there had been sharp fighting all along this road. Through the +streets of Frederick, through Crampton's Gap, over South Mountain, +sweeping at last the hills and the woods that skirt the windings of the +Antietam, the long battle had travelled, like one of those tornadoes +which tear their path through our fields and villages. The slain of +higher condition, "embalmed" and iron-cased, were sliding off on the +railways to their far homes; the dead of the rank and file were being +gathered up and committed hastily to the earth; the gravely wounded were +cared for hard by the scene of conflict, or pushed a little way along to +the neighboring villages; while those who could walk were meeting us, as +I have said, at every step in the road. It was a pitiable sight, truly +pitiable, yet so vast, so far beyond the possibility of relief, that many +single sorrows of small dimensions have wrought upon my feelings more +than the sight of this great caravan of maimed pilgrims. The +companionship of so many seemed to make a joint-stock of their suffering; +it was next to impossible to individualize it, and so bring it home, as +one can do with a single broken limb or aching wound. Then they were all +of the male sex, and in the freshness or the prime of their strength. +Though they tramped so wearily along, yet there was rest and kind nursing +in store for them. These wounds they bore would be the medals they would +show their children and grandchildren by and by. Who would not rather +wear his decorations beneath his uniform than on it? + +Yet among them were figures which arrested our attention and sympathy. +Delicate boys, with more spirit than strength, flushed with fever or pale +with exhaustion or haggard with suffering, dragged their weary limbs +along as if each step would exhaust their slender store of strength. At +the roadside sat or lay others, quite spent with their journey. Here and +there was a house at which the wayfarers would stop, in the hope, I fear +often vain, of getting refreshment; and in one place was a clear, cool +spring, where the little bands of the long procession halted for a few +moments, as the trains that traverse the desert rest by its fountains. +My companions had brought a few peaches along with them, which the +Philanthropist bestowed upon the tired and thirsty soldiers with a +satisfaction which we all shared. I had with me a small flask of strong +waters, to be used as a medicine in case of inward grief. From this, +also, he dispensed relief, without hesitation, to a poor fellow who +looked as if he needed it. I rather admired the simplicity with which he +applied my limited means of solace to the first-comer who wanted it more +than I; a genuine benevolent impulse does not stand on ceremony, and had +I perished of colic for want of a stimulus that night, I should not have +reproached my friend the Philanthropist, any more than I grudged my other +ardent friend the two dollars and more which it cost me to send the +charitable message he left in my hands. + +It was a lovely country through which we were riding. The hillsides +rolled away into the distance, slanting up fair and broad to the sun, as +one sees them in the open parts of the Berkshire Valley, at Lanesborough, +for instance, or in the many-hued mountain chalice at the bottom of which +the Shaker houses of Lebanon have shaped themselves like a sediment of +cubical crystals. The wheat was all garnered, and the land ploughed for +a new crop. There was Indian corn standing, but I saw no pumpkins +warming their yellow carapaces in the sunshine like so many turtles; only +in a single instance did I notice some wretched little miniature +specimens in form and hue not unlike those colossal oranges of our +cornfields. The rail fences were somewhat disturbed, and the cinders of +extinguished fires showed the use to which they had been applied. The +houses along the road were not for the most part neatly kept; the garden +fences were poorly built of laths or long slats, and very rarely of trim +aspect. The men of this region seemed to ride in the saddle very +generally, rather than drive. They looked sober and stern, less curious +and lively than Yankees, and I fancied that a type of features familiar +to us in the countenance of the late John Tyler, our accidental +President, was frequently met with. The women were still more +distinguishable from our New England pattern. Soft, sallow, succulent, +delicately finished about the mouth and firmly shaped about the chin, +dark-eyed, full-throated, they looked as if they had been grown in a land +of olives. There was a little toss in their movement, full of +muliebrity. I fancied there was something more of the duck and less of +the chicken about them, as compared with the daughters of our leaner +soil; but these are mere impressions caught from stray glances, and if +there is any offence in them, my fair readers may consider them all +retracted. + +At intervals, a dead horse lay by the roadside, or in the fields, +unburied, not grateful to gods or men. I saw no bird of prey, no +ill-omened fowl, on my way to the carnival of death, or at the place +where it had been held. The vulture of story, the crow of Talavera, the +"twa corbies" of the ghastly ballad, are all from Nature, doubtless; but +no black wing was spread over these animal ruins, and no call to the +banquet pierced through the heavy-laden and sickening air. + +Full in the middle of the road, caring little for whom or what they met, +came long strings of army wagons, returning empty from the front after +supplies. James Grayden stated it as his conviction that they had a +little rather run into a fellow than not. I liked the looks of these +equipages and their drivers; they meant business. Drawn by mules mostly, +six, I think, to a wagon, powdered well with dust, wagon, beast, and +driver, they came jogging along the road, turning neither to right nor +left,--some driven by bearded, solemn white men, some by careless, +saucy-looking negroes, of a blackness like that of anthracite or +obsidian. There seemed to be nothing about them, dead or alive, that was +not serviceable. Sometimes a mule would give out on the road; then he +was left where he lay, until by and by he would think better of it, and +get up, when the first public wagon that came along would hitch him on, +and restore him to the sphere of duty. + +It was evening when we got to Middletown. The gentle lady who had graced +our homely conveyance with her company here left us. She found her +husband, the gallant Colonel, in very comfortable quarters, well cared +for, very weak from the effects of the fearful operation he had been +compelled to undergo, but showing calm courage to endure as he had shown +manly energy to act. It was a meeting full of heroism and tenderness, of +which I heard more than there is need to tell. Health to the brave +soldier, and peace to the household over which so fair a spirit presides! + +Dr. Thompson, the very active and intelligent surgical director of the +hospitals of the place, took me in charge. He carried me to the house of +a worthy and benevolent clergyman of the German Reformed Church, where I +was to take tea and pass the night. What became of the Moravian chaplain +I did not know; but my friend the Philanthropist had evidently made up +his mind to adhere to my fortunes. He followed me, therefore, to the +house of the "Dominie." as a newspaper correspondent calls my kind host, +and partook of the fare there furnished me. He withdrew with me to the +apartment assigned for my slumbers, and slept sweetly on the same pillow +where I waked and tossed. Nay, I do affirm that he did, unconsciously, I +believe, encroach on that moiety of the couch which I had flattered +myself was to be my own through the watches of the night, and that I was +in serious doubt at one time whether I should not be gradually, but +irresistibly, expelled from the bed which I had supposed destined for my +sole possession. As Ruth clave unto Naomi, so my friend the +Philanthropist clave unto me. "Whither thou goest, I will go; and where +thou lodgest, I will lodge." A really kind, good man, full of zeal, +determined to help somebody, and absorbed in his one thought, he doubted +nobody's willingness to serve him, going, as he was, on a purely +benevolent errand. When he reads this, as I hope he will, let him be +assured of my esteem and respect; and if he gained any accommodation from +being in my company, let me tell him that I learned a lesson from his +active benevolence. I could, however, have wished to hear him laugh once +before we parted, perhaps forever. He did not, to the best of my +recollection, even smile during the whole period that we were in company. +I am afraid that a lightsome disposition and a relish for humor are not +so common in those whose benevolence takes an active turn as in people of +sentiment, who are always ready with their tears and abounding in +passionate expressions of sympathy. Working philanthropy is a practical +specialty, requiring not a mere impulse, but a talent, with its peculiar +sagacity for finding its objects, a tact for selecting its agencies, an +organizing and art ranging faculty, a steady set of nerves, and a +constitution such as Sallust describes in Catiline, patient of cold, of +hunger, and of watching. Philanthropists are commonly grave, +occasionally grim, and not very rarely morose. Their expansive social +force is imprisoned as a working power, to show itself only through its +legitimate pistons and cranks. The tighter the boiler, the less it +whistles and sings at its work. When Dr. Waterhouse, in 1780, travelled +with Howard, on his tour among the Dutch prisons and hospitals, he found +his temper and manners very different from what would have been expected. + +My benevolent companion having already made a preliminary exploration of +the hospitals of the place, before sharing my bed with him, as above +mentioned, I joined him in a second tour through them. The authorities +of Middletown are evidently leagued with the surgeons of that place, for +such a break-neck succession of pitfalls and chasms I have never seen in +the streets of a civilized town. It was getting late in the evening when +we began our rounds. The principal collections of the wounded were in +the churches. Boards were laid over the tops of the pews, on these some +straw was spread, and on this the wounded lay, with little or no covering +other than such scanty clothes as they had on. There were wounds of all +degrees of severity, but I heard no groans or murmurs. Most of the +sufferers were hurt in the limbs, some had undergone amputation, and all +had, I presume, received such attention as was required. Still, it was +but a rough and dreary kind of comfort that the extemporized hospitals +suggested. I could not help thinking the patients must be cold; but they +were used to camp life, and did not complain. The men who watched were +not of the soft-handed variety of the race. One of them was smoking his +pipe as he went from bed to bed. I saw one poor fellow who had been shot +through the breast; his breathing was labored, and he was tossing, +anxious and restless. The men were debating about the opiate he was to +take, and I was thankful that I happened there at the right moment to see +that he was well narcotized for the night. Was it possible that my +Captain could be lying on the straw in one of these places? Certainly +possible, but not probable; but as the lantern was held over each bed, it +was with a kind of thrill that I looked upon the features it illuminated. +Many times as I went from hospital to hospital in my wanderings, I +started as some faint resemblance,-the shade of a young man's hair, the +outline of his half-turned face,--recalled the presence I was in search +of. The face would turn towards me, and the momentary illusion would +pass away, but still the fancy clung to me. There was no figure huddled +up on its rude couch, none stretched at the roadside, none toiling +languidly along the dusty pike, none passing in car or in ambulance, that +I did not scrutinize, as if it might be that for which I was making my +pilgrimage to the battlefield. + +"There are two wounded Secesh," said my companion. I walked to the +bedside of the first, who was an officer, a lieutenant, if I remember +right, from North Carolina. He was of good family, son of a judge in one +of the higher courts of his State, educated, pleasant, gentle, +intelligent. One moment's intercourse with such an enemy, lying helpless +and wounded among strangers, takes away all personal bitterness towards +those with whom we or our children have been but a few hours before in +deadly strife. The basest lie which the murderous contrivers of this +Rebellion have told is that which tries to make out a difference of race +in the men of the North and South. It would be worth a year of battles to +abolish this delusion, though the great sponge of war that wiped it out +were moistened with the best blood of the land. My Rebel was of slight, +scholastic habit, and spoke as one accustomed to tread carefully among +the parts of speech. It made my heart ache to see him, a man finished in +the humanities and Christian culture, whom the sin of his forefathers and +the crime of his rulers had set in barbarous conflict against others of +like training with his own,--a man who, but for the curse which our +generation is called on to expiate, would have taken his part in the +beneficent task of shaping the intelligence and lifting the moral +standard of a peaceful and united people. + +On Sunday morning, the twenty-first, having engaged James Grayden and his +team, I set out with the Chaplain and the Philanthropist for Keedysville. +Our track lay through the South Mountain Gap, and led us first to the +town of Boonsborough, where, it will be remembered, Colonel Dwight had +been brought after the battle. We saw the positions occupied in the +battle of South Mountain, and many traces of the conflict. In one +situation a group of young trees was marked with shot, hardly one having +escaped. As we walked by the side of the wagon, the Philanthropist left +us for a while and climbed a hill, where, along the line of a fence, he +found traces of the most desperate fighting. A ride of some three hours +brought us to Boonsborough, where I roused the unfortunate army surgeon +who had charge of the hospitals, and who was trying to get a little sleep +after his fatigues and watchings. He bore this cross very creditably, +and helped me to explore all places where my soldier might be lying among +the crowds of wounded. After the useless search, I resumed my journey, +fortified with a note of introduction to Dr. Letterman; also with a bale +of oakum which I was to carry to that gentleman, this substance being +employed as a substitute for lint. We were obliged also to procure a +pass to Keedysville from the Provost Marshal of Boonsborough. As we came +near the place, we learned that General McClellan's head quarters had +been removed from this village some miles farther to the front. + +On entering the small settlement of Keedysville, a familiar face and +figure blocked the way, like one of Bunyan's giants. The tall form and +benevolent countenance, set off by long, flowing hair, belonged to the +excellent Mayor Frank B. Fay of Chelsea, who, like my Philanthropist, +only still more promptly, had come to succor the wounded of the great +battle. It was wonderful to see how his single personality pervaded this +torpid little village; he seemed to be the centre of all its activities. +All my questions he answered clearly and decisively, as one who knew +everything that was going on in the place. But the one question I had +come five hundred miles to ask,--Where is Captain H.?--he could not +answer. There were some thousands of wounded in the place, he told me, +scattered about everywhere. It would be a long job to hunt up my +Captain; the only way would be to go to every house and ask for him. +Just then a medical officer came up. + +"Do you know anything of Captain H. of the Massachusetts Twentieth?" + +"Oh yes; he is staying in that house. I saw him there, doing very well." + +A chorus of hallelujahs arose in my soul, but I kept them to myself. Now, +then, for our twice-wounded volunteer, our young centurion whose +double-barred shoulder-straps we have never yet looked upon. Let us +observe the proprieties, however; no swelling upward of the mother,--no +hysterica passio, we do not like scenes. A calm salutation,--then +swallow and hold hard. That is about the programme. + +A cottage of squared logs, filled in with plaster, and whitewashed. A +little yard before it, with a gate swinging. The door of the cottage +ajar,--no one visible as yet. I push open the door and enter. An old +woman, Margaret Kitzmuller her name proves to be, is the first person I +see. + +"Captain H. here?" + +"Oh no, sir,--left yesterday morning for Hagerstown,--in a milk-cart." + +The Kitzmuller is a beady-eyed, cheery-looking ancient woman, answers +questions with a rising inflection, and gives a good account of the +Captain, who got into the vehicle without assistance, and was in +excellent spirits. Of course he had struck for Hagerstown as the +terminus of the Cumberland Valley Railroad, and was on his way to +Philadelphia, via Chambersburg and Harrisburg, if he were not already in +the hospitable home of Walnut Street, where his friends were expecting +him. + +I might follow on his track or return upon my own; the distance was the +same to Philadelphia through Harrisburg as through Baltimore. But it was +very difficult, Mr. Fay told me, to procure any kind of conveyance to +Hagerstown; and, on the other hand, I had James Grayden and his wagon to +carry me back to Frederick. It was not likely that I should overtake the +object of my pursuit with nearly thirty-six hours start, even if I could +procure a conveyance that day. In the mean time James was getting +impatient to be on his return, according to the direction of his +employers. So I decided to go back with him. + +But there was the great battle-field only about three miles from +Keedysville, and it was impossible to go without seeing that. James +Grayden's directions were peremptory, but it was a case for the higher +law. I must make a good offer for an extra couple of hours, such as +would satisfy the owners of the wagon, and enforce it by a personal +motive. I did this handsomely, and succeeded without difficulty. To add +brilliancy to my enterprise, I invited the Chaplain and the +Philanthropist to take a free passage with me. + +We followed the road through the village for a space, then turned off to +the right, and wandered somewhat vaguely, for want of precise directions, +over the hills. Inquiring as we went, we forded a wide creek in which +soldiers were washing their clothes, the name of which we did not then +know, but which must have been the Antietam. At one point we met a +party, women among them, bringing off various trophies they had picked up +on the battlefield. Still wandering along, we were at last pointed to a +hill in the distance, a part of the summit of which was covered with +Indian corn. There, we were told, some of the fiercest fighting of the +day had been done. The fences were taken down so as to make a passage +across the fields, and the tracks worn within the last few days looked +like old roads. We passed a fresh grave under a tree near the road. A +board was nailed to the tree, bearing the name, as well as I could make +it out, of Gardiner, of a New Hampshire regiment. + +On coming near the brow of the hill, we met a party carrying picks and +spades. "How many?" "Only one." The dead were nearly all buried, then, +in this region of the field of strife. We stopped the wagon, and, +getting out, began to look around us. Hard by was a large pile of +muskets, scores, if not hundreds, which had been picked up, and were +guarded for the Government. A long ridge of fresh gravel rose before us. +A board stuck up in front of it bore this inscription, the first part of +which was, I believe, not correct: "The Rebel General Anderson and 80 +Rebels are buried in this hole." Other smaller ridges were marked with +the number of dead lying under them. The whole ground was strewed with +fragments of clothing, haversacks, canteens, cap-boxes, bullets, +cartridge-boxes, cartridges, scraps of paper, portions of bread and meat. +I saw two soldiers' caps that looked as though their owners had been shot +through the head. In several places I noticed dark red patches where a +pool of blood had curdled and caked, as some poor fellow poured his life +out on the sod. I then wandered about in the cornfield. It surprised me +to notice, that, though there was every mark of hard fighting having +taken place here, the Indian corn was not generally trodden down. One of +our cornfields is a kind of forest, and even when fighting, men avoid the +tall stalks as if they were trees. At the edge of this cornfield lay a +gray horse, said to have belonged to a Rebel colonel, who was killed near +the same place. Not far off were two dead artillery horses in their +harness. Another had been attended to by a burying-party, who had thrown +some earth over him but his last bed-clothes were too short, and his legs +stuck out stark and stiff from beneath the gravel coverlet. It was a +great pity that we had no intelligent guide to explain to us the position +of that portion of the two armies which fought over this ground. There +was a shallow trench before we came to the cornfield, too narrow for a +road, as I should think, too elevated for a water-course, and which +seemed to have been used as a rifle-pit. At any rate, there had been +hard fighting in and about it. This and the cornfield may serve to +identify the part of the ground we visited, if any who fought there +should ever look over this paper. The opposing tides of battle must have +blended their waves at this point, for portions of gray uniform were +mingled with the "garments rolled in blood" torn from our own dead and +wounded soldiers. I picked up a Rebel canteen, and one of our own,--but +there was something repulsive about the trodden and stained relics of the +stale battle-field. It was like the table of some hideous orgy left +uncleared, and one turned away disgusted from its broken fragments and +muddy heeltaps. A bullet or two, a button, a brass plate from a +soldier's belt, served well enough for mementos of my visit, with a +letter which I picked up, directed to Richmond, Virginia, its seal +unbroken. "N. C. Cleveland County. E. Wright to J. Wright." On the +other side, "A few lines from W. L. Vaughn." who has just been writing +for the wife to her husband, and continues on his own account. The +postscript, "tell John that nancy's folks are all well and has a verry +good Little Crop of corn a growing." I wonder, if, by one of those +strange chances of which I have seen so many, this number or leaf of the +"Atlantic" will not sooner or later find its way to Cleveland County, +North Carolina, and E. Wright, widow of James Wright, and Nancy's folks, +get from these sentences the last glimpse of husband and friend as he +threw up his arms and fell in the bloody cornfield of Antietam? I will +keep this stained letter for them until peace comes back, if it comes in +my time, and my pleasant North Carolina Rebel of the Middletown Hospital +will, perhaps look these poor people up, and tell them where to send for +it. + +On the battle-field I parted with my two companions, the Chaplain and the +Philanthropist. They were going to the front, the one to find his +regiment, the other to look for those who needed his assistance. We +exchanged cards and farewells, I mounted the wagon, the horses' heads +were turned homewards, my two companions went their way, and I saw them +no more. On my way back, I fell into talk with James Grayden. Born in +England, Lancashire; in this country since he was four years old. Had +nothing to care for but an old mother; didn't know what he should do if +he lost her. Though so long in this country, he had all the simplicity +and childlike lightheartedness which belong to the Old World's people. +He laughed at the smallest pleasantry, and showed his great white English +teeth; he took a joke without retorting by an impertinence; he had a very +limited curiosity about all that was going on; he had small store of +information; he lived chiefly in his horses, it seemed to me. His quiet +animal nature acted as a pleasing anodyne to my recurring fits of +anxiety, and I liked his frequent "'Deed I don't know, sir." better than +I have sometimes relished the large discourse of professors and other +very wise men. + +I have not much to say of the road which we were travelling for the +second time. Reaching Middletown, my first call was on the wounded +Colonel and his lady. She gave me a most touching account of all the +suffering he had gone through with his shattered limb before he succeeded +in finding a shelter; showing the terrible want of proper means of +transportation of the wounded after the battle. It occurred to me, while +at this house, that I was more or less famished, and for the first time +in my life I begged for a meal, which the kind family with whom the +Colonel was staying most graciously furnished me. + +After tea, there came in a stout army surgeon, a Highlander by birth, +educated in Edinburgh, with whom I had pleasant, not unstimulating talk. +He had been brought very close to that immane and nefandous +Burke-and-Hare business which made the blood of civilization run cold in +the year 1828, and told me, in a very calm way, with an occasional pinch +from the mull, to refresh his memory, some of the details of those +frightful murders, never rivalled in horror until the wretch Dumollard, +who kept a private cemetery for his victims, was dragged into the light +of day. He had a good deal to say, too, about the Royal College of +Surgeons in Edinburgh, and the famous preparations, mercurial and the +rest, which I remember well having seen there,--the "sudabit multum." +and others,--also of our New York Professor Carnochan's handiwork, a +specimen of which I once admired at the New York College. But the doctor +was not in a happy frame of mind, and seemed willing to forget the +present in the past: things went wrong, somehow, and the time was out of +joint with him. + +Dr. Thompson, kind, cheerful, companionable, offered me half his own wide +bed, in the house of Dr. Baer, for my second night in Middletown. Here I +lay awake again another night. Close to the house stood an ambulance in +which was a wounded Rebel officer, attended by one of their own surgeons. +He was calling out in a loud voice, all night long, as it seemed to me, +"Doctor! Doctor! Driver! Water!" in loud, complaining tones, I have no +doubt of real suffering, but in strange contrast with the silent patience +which was the almost universal rule. + +The courteous Dr. Thompson will let me tell here an odd coincidence, +trivial, but having its interest as one of a series. The Doctor and +myself lay in the bed, and a lieutenant, a friend of his, slept on the +sofa, At night, I placed my match-box, a Scotch one, of the +Macpherson-plaid pattern, which I bought years ago, on the bureau, just +where I could put my hand upon it. I was the last of the three to rise +in the morning, and on looking for my pretty match-box, I found it was +gone. This was rather awkward,--not on account of the loss, but of the +unavoidable fact that one of my fellow-lodgers must have taken it. I +must try to find out what it meant. + +"By the way, Doctor, have you seen anything of a little plaid-pattern +match-box?" + +The Doctor put his hand to his pocket, and, to his own huge surprise and +my great gratification, pulled out two match-boxes exactly alike, both +printed with the Macpherson plaid. One was his, the other mine, which he +had seen lying round, and naturally took for his own, thrusting it into +his pocket, where it found its twin-brother from the same workshop. In +memory of which event, we exchanged boxes, like two Homeric heroes. + +This curious coincidence illustrates well enough some supposed cases of +plagiarism of which I will mention one where my name figured. When a +little poem called "The Two Streams" was first printed, a writer in the +New York "Evening Post" virtually accused the author of it of borrowing +the thought from a baccalaureate sermon of President Hopkins of +Williamstown, and printed a quotation from that discourse, which, as I +thought, a thief or catch-poll might well consider as establishing a fair +presumption that it was so borrowed. I was at the same time wholly +unconscious of ever having met with the discourse or the sentence which +the verses were most like, nor do I believe I ever had seen or heard +either. Some time after this, happening to meet my eloquent cousin, +Wendell Phillips, I mentioned the fact to him, and he told me that he had +once used the special image said to be borrowed, in a discourse delivered +at Williamstown. On relating this to my friend Mr. Buchanan Read, he +informed me that he too, had used the image,--perhaps referring to his +poem called "The Twins." He thought Tennyson had used it also. The +parting of the streams on the Alps is poetically elaborated in a passage +attributed to "M. Loisne," printed in the "Boston Evening Transcript" for +October 23, 1859. Captain, afterwards Sir Francis Head, speaks of the +showers parting on the Cordilleras, one portion going to the Atlantic, +one to the Pacific. I found the image running loose in my mind, without +a halter. It suggested itself as an illustration of the will, and I +worked the poem out by the aid of Mitchell's School Atlas.--The spores of +a great many ideas are floating about in the atmosphere. We no more know +where all the growths of our mind came from, than where the lichens which +eat the names off from the gravestones borrowed the germs that gave them +birth. The two match-boxes were just alike, but neither was a +plagiarism. + +In the morning I took to the same wagon once more, but, instead of James +Grayden, I was to have for my driver a young man who spelt his name +"Phillip Ottenheimer" and whose features at once showed him to be an +Israelite. I found him agreeable enough, and disposed to talk. So I +asked him many questions about his religion, and got some answers that +sound strangely in Christian ears. He was from Wittenberg, and had been +educated in strict Jewish fashion. From his childhood he had read +Hebrew, but was not much of a scholar otherwise. A young person of his +race lost caste utterly by marrying a Christian. The Founder of our +religion was considered by the Israelites to have been "a right smart man +and a great doctor." But the horror with which the reading of the New +Testament by any young person of their faith would be regarded was as +great, I judged by his language, as that of one of our straitest +sectaries would be, if he found his son or daughter perusing the "Age of +Reason." + +In approaching Frederick, the singular beauty of its clustered spires +struck me very much, so that I was not surprised to find "Fair-View" laid +down about this point on a railroad map. I wish some wandering +photographer would take a picture of the place, a stereoscopic one, if +possible, to show how gracefully, how charmingly, its group of steeples +nestles among the Maryland hills. The town had a poetical look from a +distance, as if seers and dreamers might dwell there. The first sign I +read, on entering its long street, might perhaps be considered as +confirming my remote impression. It bore these words: "Miss Ogle, Past, +Present, and Future." On arriving, I visited Lieutenant Abbott, and the +attenuated unhappy gentleman, his neighbor, sharing between them as my +parting gift what I had left of the balsam known to the Pharmacopoeia as +Spiritus Vini Gallici. I took advantage of General Shriver's always open +door to write a letter home, but had not time to partake of his offered +hospitality. The railroad bridge over the Monocacy had been rebuilt since +I passed through Frederick, and we trundled along over the track toward +Baltimore. + +It was a disappointment, on reaching the Eutaw House, where I had ordered +all communications to be addressed, to find no telegraphic message from +Philadelphia or Boston, stating that Captain H. had arrived at the former +place, "wound doing well in good spirits expects to leave soon for +Boston." After all, it was no great matter; the Captain was, no doubt, +snugly lodged before this in the house called Beautiful, at * * * * +Walnut Street, where that "grave and beautiful damsel named Discretion" +had already welcomed him, smiling, though "the water stood in her eyes," +and had "called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little +more discourse with him, had him into the family." + +The friends I had met at the Eutaw House had all gone but one, the lady +of an officer from Boston, who was most amiable and agreeable, and whose +benevolence, as I afterwards learned, soon reached the invalids I had +left suffering at Frederick. General Wool still walked the corridors, +inexpansive, with Fort McHenry on his shoulders, and Baltimore in his +breeches-pocket, and his courteous aid again pressed upon me his kind +offices. About the doors of the hotel the news-boys cried the papers in +plaintive, wailing tones, as different from the sharp accents of their +Boston counterparts as a sigh from the southwest is from a northeastern +breeze. To understand what they said was, of course, impossible to any +but an educated ear, and if I made out "Starr" and "Clipp'rr," it was +because I knew beforehand what must be the burden of their advertising +coranach. + +I set out for Philadelphia on the morrow, Tuesday the twenty-third, there +beyond question to meet my Captain, once more united to his brave wounded +companions under that roof which covers a household of as noble hearts as +ever throbbed with human sympathies. Back River, Bush River, Gunpowder +Creek,--lives there the man with soul so dead that his memory has +cerements to wrap up these senseless names in the same envelopes with +their meaningless localities? But the Susquehanna,--the broad, the +beautiful, the historical, the poetical Susquehanna,--the river of +Wyoming and of Gertrude, dividing the shores where + + "Aye those sunny mountains half-way down + Would echo flageolet from some romantic town,"-- + +did not my heart renew its allegiance to the poet who has made it lovely +to the imagination as well as to the eye, and so identified his fame with +the noble stream that it "rolls mingling with his fame forever?" The +prosaic traveller perhaps remembers it better from the fact that a great +sea-monster, in the shape of a steamboat, takes him, sitting in the car, +on its back, and swims across with him like Arion's dolphin,--also that +mercenary men on board offer him canvas-backs in the season, and ducks of +lower degree at other periods. + +At Philadelphia again at last! Drive fast, O colored man and brother, to +the house called Beautiful, where my Captain lies sore wounded, waiting +for the sound of the chariot wheels which bring to his bedside the face +and the voice nearer than any save one to his heart in this his hour of +pain and weakness! Up a long street with white shutters and white steps +to all the houses. Off at right angles into another long street with +white shutters and white steps to all the houses. Off again at another +right angle into still another long street with white shutters and white +steps to all the houses. The natives of this city pretend to know one +street from another by some individual differences of aspect; but the +best way for a stranger to distinguish the streets he has been in from +others is to make a cross or other mark on the white shutters. + +This corner-house is the one. Ring softly,--for the Lieutenant-Colonel +lies there with a dreadfully wounded arm, and two sons of the family, one +wounded like the Colonel, one fighting with death in the fog of a typhoid +fever, will start with fresh pangs at the least sound you can make. I +entered the house, but no cheerful smile met me. The sufferers were each +of them thought to be in a critical condition. The fourth bed, waiting +its tenant day after day, was still empty. Not a word from my Captain. + +Then, foolish, fond body that I was, my heart sank within me. Had he +been taken ill on the road, perhaps been attacked with those formidable +symptoms which sometimes come on suddenly after wounds that seemed to be +doing well enough, and was his life ebbing away in some lonely cottage, +nay, in some cold barn or shed, or at the wayside, unknown, uncared for? +Somewhere between Philadelphia and Hagerstown, if not at the latter town, +he must be, at any rate. I must sweep the hundred and eighty miles +between these places as one would sweep a chamber where a precious pearl +had been dropped. I must have a companion in my search, partly to help +me look about, and partly because I was getting nervous and felt lonely. +Charley said he would go with me,--Charley, my Captain's beloved friend, +gentle, but full of spirit and liveliness, cultivated, social, +affectionate, a good talker, a most agreeable letter-writer, observing, +with large relish of life, and keen sense of humor. He was not well +enough to go, some of the timid ones said; but he answered by packing his +carpet-bag, and in an hour or two we were on the Pennsylvania Central +Railroad in full blast for Harrisburg. + +I should have been a forlorn creature but for the presence of my +companion. In his delightful company I half forgot my anxieties, which, +exaggerated as they may seem now, were not unnatural after what I had +seen of the confusion and distress that had followed the great battle, +nay, which seem almost justified by the recent statement that "high +officers" were buried after that battle whose names were never +ascertained. I noticed little matters, as usual. The road was filled in +between the rails with cracked stones, such as are used for macadamizing +streets. They keep the dust down, I suppose, for I could not think of +any other use for them. By and by the glorious valley which stretches +along through Chester and Lancaster Counties opened upon us. Much as I +had heard of the fertile regions of Pennsylvania, the vast scale and the +uniform luxuriance of this region astonished me. The grazing pastures +were so green, the fields were under such perfect culture, the cattle +looked so sleek, the houses were so comfortable, the barns so ample, the +fences so well kept, that I did not wonder, when I was told that this +region was called the England of Pennsylvania. The people whom we saw +were, like the cattle, well nourished; the young women looked round and +wholesome. + +"Grass makes girls." I said to my companion, and left him to work out my +Orphic saying, thinking to myself, that as guano makes grass, it was a +legitimate conclusion that Ichaboe must be a nursery of female +loveliness. + +As the train stopped at the different stations, I inquired at each if +they had any wounded officers. None as yet; the red rays of the +battle-field had not streamed off so far as this. Evening found us in +the cars; they lighted candles in spring-candle-sticks; odd enough I +thought it in the land of oil-wells and unmeasured floods of kerosene. +Some fellows turned up the back of a seat so as to make it horizontal, +and began gambling, or pretending to gamble; it looked as if they were +trying to pluck a young countryman; but appearances are deceptive, and no +deeper stake than "drinks for the crowd" seemed at last to be involved. +But remembering that murder has tried of late years to establish itself +as an institution in the cars, I was less tolerant of the doings of these +"sportsmen" who tried to turn our public conveyance into a travelling +Frascati. They acted as if they were used to it, and nobody seemed to +pay much attention to their manoeuvres. + +We arrived at Harrisburg in the course of the evening, and attempted to +find our way to the Jones House, to which we had been commended. By some +mistake, intentional on the part of somebody, as it may have been, or +purely accidental, we went to the Herr House instead. I entered my name +in the book, with that of my companion. A plain, middle-aged man stepped +up, read it to himself in low tones, and coupled to it a literary title +by which I have been sometimes known. He proved to be a graduate of Brown +University, and had heard a certain Phi Beta Kappa poem delivered there a +good many years ago. I remembered it, too; Professor Goddard, whose +sudden and singular death left such lasting regret, was the Orator. I +recollect that while I was speaking a drum went by the church, and how I +was disgusted to see all the heads near the windows thrust out of them, +as if the building were on fire. Cedat armis toga. The clerk in the +office, a mild, pensive, unassuming young man, was very polite in his +manners, and did all he could to make us comfortable. He was of a +literary turn, and knew one of his guests in his character of author. At +tea, a mild old gentleman, with white hair and beard, sat next us. He, +too, had come hunting after his son, a lieutenant in a Pennsylvania +regiment. Of these, father and son, more presently. + +After tea we went to look up Dr. Wilson, chief medical officer of the +hospitals in the place, who was staying at the Brady House. A +magnificent old toddy-mixer, Bardolphian in hue, and stern of aspect, as +all grog-dispensers must be, accustomed as they are to dive through the +features of men to the bottom of their souls and pockets to see whether +they are solvent to the amount of sixpence, answered my question by a +wave of one hand, the other being engaged in carrying a dram to his lips. +His superb indifference gratified my artistic feeling more than it +wounded my personal sensibilities. Anything really superior in its line +claims my homage, and this man was the ideal bartender, above all vulgar +passions, untouched by commonplace sympathies, himself a lover of the +liquid happiness he dispenses, and filled with a fine scorn of all those +lesser felicities conferred by love or fame or wealth or any of the +roundabout agencies for which his fiery elixir is the cheap, all-powerful +substitute. + +Dr. Wilson was in bed, though it was early in the evening, not having +slept for I don't know how many nights. + +"Take my card up to him, if you please." "This way, sir." + +A man who has not slept for a fortnight or so is not expected to be as +affable, when attacked in his bed, as a French Princess of old time at +her morning receptions. Dr. Wilson turned toward me, as I entered, +without effusion, but without rudeness. His thick, dark moustache was +chopped off square at the lower edge of the upper lip, which implied a +decisive, if not a peremptory, style of character. + +I am Dr. So-and-So of Hubtown, looking after my wounded son. (I gave my +name and said Boston, of course, in reality.) + +Dr. Wilson leaned on his elbow and looked up in my face, his features +growing cordial. Then he put out his hand, and good-humoredly excused +his reception of me. The day before, as he told me, he had dismissed +from the service a medical man hailing from ******, Pennsylvania, bearing +my last name, preceded by the same two initials; and he supposed, when my +card came up, it was this individual who was disturbing his slumbers. +The coincidence was so unlikely a priori, unless some forlorn parent +without antecedents had named, a child after me, that I could not help +cross-questioning the Doctor, who assured me deliberately that the fact +was just as he had said, even to the somewhat unusual initials. Dr. +Wilson very kindly furnished me all the information in his power, gave me +directions for telegraphing to Chambersburg, and showed every disposition +to serve me. + +On returning to the Herr House, we found the mild, white-haired old +gentleman in a very happy state. He had just discovered his son, in a +comfortable condition, at the United States Hotel. He thought that he +could probably give us some information which would prove interesting. +To the United States Hotel we repaired, then, in company with our +kind-hearted old friend, who evidently wanted to see me as happy as +himself. He went up-stairs to his son's chamber, and presently came down +to conduct us there. + +Lieutenant P________, of the Pennsylvania __th, was a very fresh, +bright-looking young man, lying in bed from the effects of a recent +injury received in action. A grape-shot, after passing through a post +and a board, had struck him in the hip, bruising, but not penetrating or +breaking. He had good news for me. + +That very afternoon, a party of wounded officers had passed through +Harrisburg, going East. He had conversed in the bar-room of this hotel +with one of them, who was wounded about the shoulder (it might be the +lower part of the neck), and had his arm in a sling. He belonged to the +Twentieth Massachusetts; the Lieutenant saw that he was a Captain, by the +two bars on his shoulder-strap. His name was my family-name; he was tall +and youthful, like my Captain. At four o'clock he left in the train for +Philadelphia. Closely questioned, the Lieutenant's evidence was as +round, complete, and lucid as a Japanese sphere of rock-crystal. + +TE DEUM LAUDAMUS! The Lord's name be praised! The dead pain in the +semilunar ganglion (which I must remind my reader is a kind of stupid, +unreasoning brain, beneath the pit of the stomach, common to man and +beast, which aches in the supreme moments of life, as when the dam loses +her young ones, or the wild horse is lassoed) stopped short. There was a +feeling as if I had slipped off a tight boot, or cut a strangling +garter,--only it was all over my system. What more could I ask to assure +me of the Captain's safety? As soon as the telegraph office opens +tomorrow morning we will send a message to our friends in Philadelphia, +and get a reply, doubtless, which will settle the whole matter. + +The hopeful morrow dawned at last, and the message was sent accordingly. +In due time, the following reply was received: "Phil Sept 24 I think the +report you have heard that W [the Captain] has gone East must be an error +we have not seen or heard of him here M L H" + +DE PROFUNDIS CLAMAVI! He could not have passed through Philadelphia +without visiting the house called Beautiful, where he had been so +tenderly cared for after his wound at Ball's Bluff, and where those whom +he loved were lying in grave peril of life or limb. Yet he did pass +through Harrisburg, going East, going to Philadelphia, on his way home. +Ah, this is it! He must have taken the late night-train from +Philadelphia for New York, in his impatience to reach home. There is such +a train, not down in the guide-book, but we were assured of the fact at +the Harrisburg depot. By and by came the reply from Dr. Wilson's +telegraphic message: nothing had been heard of the Captain at +Chambersburg. Still later, another message came from our Philadelphia +friend, saying that he was seen on Friday last at the house of Mrs. +K________, a well-known Union lady in Hagerstown. Now this could not be +true, for he did not leave Keedysville until Saturday; but the name of +the lady furnished a clew by which we could probably track him. A +telegram was at once sent to Mrs. K_______, asking information. It was +transmitted immediately, but when the answer would be received was +uncertain, as the Government almost monopolized the line. I was, on the +whole, so well satisfied that the Captain had gone East, that, unless +something were heard to the contrary, I proposed following him in the +late train leaving a little after midnight for Philadelphia. + +This same morning we visited several of the temporary hospitals, churches +and school-houses, where the wounded were lying. In one of these, after +looking round as usual, I asked aloud, "Any Massachusetts men here?" Two +bright faces lifted themselves from their pillows and welcomed me by +name. The one nearest me was private John B. Noyes of Company B, +Massachusetts Thirteenth, son of my old college class-tutor, now the +reverend and learned Professor of Hebrew, etc., in Harvard University. +His neighbor was Corporal Armstrong of the same Company. Both were +slightly wounded, doing well. I learned then and since from Mr. Noyes +that they and their comrades were completely overwhelmed by the +attentions of the good people of Harrisburg,--that the ladies brought +them fruits and flowers, and smiles, better than either,--and that the +little boys of the place were almost fighting for the privilege of doing +their errands. I am afraid there will be a good many hearts pierced in +this war that will have no bulletmark to show. + +There were some heavy hours to get rid of, and we thought a visit to Camp +Curtin might lighten some of them. A rickety wagon carried us to the +camp, in company with a young woman from Troy, who had a basket of good +things with her for a sick brother. "Poor boy! he will be sure to die," +she said. The rustic sentries uncrossed their muskets and let us in. +The camp was on a fair plain, girdled with hills, spacious, well kept +apparently, but did not present any peculiar attraction for us. The +visit would have been a dull one, had we not happened to get sight of a +singular-looking set of human beings in the distance. They were clad in +stuff of different hues, gray and brown being the leading shades, but +both subdued by a neutral tint, such as is wont to harmonize the +variegated apparel of travel-stained vagabonds. They looked slouchy, +listless, torpid,--an ill-conditioned crew, at first sight, made up of +such fellows as an old woman would drive away from her hen-roost with a +broomstick. Yet these were estrays from the fiery army which has given +our generals so much trouble,--"Secesh prisoners," as a bystander told +us. A talk with them might be profitable and entertaining. But they +were tabooed to the common visitor, and it was necessary to get inside of +the line which separated us from them. + +A solid, square captain was standing near by, to whom we were referred. +Look a man calmly through the very centre of his pupils and ask him for +anything with a tone implying entire conviction that he will grant it, +and he will very commonly consent to the thing asked, were it to commit +hari-kari. The Captain acceded to my postulate, and accepted my friend +as a corollary. As one string of my own ancestors was of Batavian +origin, I may be permitted to say that my new friend was of the Dutch +type, like the Amsterdam galiots, broad in the beam, capacious in the +hold, and calculated to carry a heavy cargo rather than to make fast +time. He must have been in politics at some time or other, for he made +orations to all the "Secesh," in which he explained to them that the +United States considered and treated them like children, and enforced +upon them the ridiculous impossibility of the Rebels attempting to do +anything against such a power as that of the National Government. + +Much as his discourse edified them and enlightened me, it interfered +somewhat with my little plans of entering into frank and friendly talk +with some of these poor fellows, for whom I could not help feeling a kind +of human sympathy, though I am as venomous a hater of the Rebellion as +one is like to find under the stars and stripes. It is fair to take a +man prisoner. It is fair to make speeches to a man. But to take a man +prisoner and then make speeches to him while in durance is not fair. + +I began a few pleasant conversations, which would have come to something +but for the reason assigned. + +One old fellow had a long beard, a drooping eyelid, and a black clay pipe +in his mouth. He was a Scotchman from Ayr, dour enough, and little +disposed to be communicative, though I tried him with the "Twa Briggs," +and, like all Scotchmen, he was a reader of "Burrns." He professed to +feel no interest in the cause for which he was fighting, and was in the +army, I judged, only from compulsion. There was a wild-haired, unsoaped +boy, with pretty, foolish features enough, who looked as if he might be +about seventeen, as he said he was. I give my questions and his answers +literally. + +"What State do you come from?" + +"Georgy." + +"What part of Georgia?" + +"Midway." + +--[How odd that is! My father was settled for seven years as pastor over +the church at Midway, Georgia, and this youth is very probably a grandson +or great grandson of one of his parishioners.] + +"Where did you go to church when you were at home?" + +"Never went inside 'f a church b't once in m' life." + +"What did you do before you became a soldier?" + +"Nothin'." + +"What do you mean to do when you get back?" + +"Nothin'." + +Who could have any other feeling than pity for this poor human weed, this +dwarfed and etiolated soul, doomed by neglect to an existence but one +degree above that of the idiot? + +With the group was a lieutenant, buttoned close in his gray coat,--one +button gone, perhaps to make a breastpin for some fair traitorous bosom. +A short, stocky man, undistinguishable from one of the "subject race" by +any obvious meanderings of the sangre azul on his exposed surfaces. He +did not say much, possibly because he was convinced by the statements and +arguments of the Dutch captain. He had on strong, iron-heeled shoes, of +English make, which he said cost him seventeen dollars in Richmond. + +I put the question, in a quiet, friendly way, to several of the +prisoners, what they were fighting for. One answered, "For our homes." +Two or three others said they did not know, and manifested great +indifference to the whole matter, at which another of their number, a +sturdy fellow, took offence, and muttered opinions strongly derogatory to +those who would not stand up for the cause they had been fighting for. A +feeble; attenuated old man, who wore the Rebel uniform, if such it could +be called, stood by without showing any sign of intelligence. It was +cutting very close to the bone to carve such a shred of humanity from the +body politic to make a soldier of. + +We were just leaving, when a face attracted me, and I stopped the party. +"That is the true Southern type," I said to my companion. A young +fellow, a little over twenty, rather tall, slight, with a perfectly +smooth, boyish cheek, delicate, somewhat high features, and a fine, +almost feminine mouth, stood at the opening of his tent, and as we turned +towards him fidgeted a little nervously with one hand at the loose +canvas, while he seemed at the same time not unwilling to talk. He was +from Mississippi, he said, had been at Georgetown College, and was so far +imbued with letters that even the name of the literary humility before +him was not new to his ears. Of course I found it easy to come into +magnetic relation with him, and to ask him without incivility what he was +fighting for. "Because I like the excitement of it," he answered. I +know those fighters with women's mouths and boys' cheeks. One such from +the circle of my own friends, sixteen years old, slipped away from his +nursery, and dashed in under, an assumed name among the red-legged +Zouaves, in whose company he got an ornamental bullet-mark in one of the +earliest conflicts of the war. + +"Did you ever see a genuine Yankee?" said my Philadelphia friend to the +young Mississippian. + +"I have shot at a good many of them," he replied, modestly, his woman's +mouth stirring a little, with a pleasant, dangerous smile. + +The Dutch captain here put his foot into the conversation, as his +ancestors used to put theirs into the scale, when they were buying furs +of the Indians by weight,--so much for the weight of a hand, so much for +the weight of a foot. It deranged the balance of our intercourse; there +was no use in throwing a fly where a paving-stone had just splashed into +the water, and I nodded a good-by to the boy-fighter, thinking how much +pleasanter it was for my friend the Captain to address him with +unanswerable arguments and crushing statements in his own tent than it +would be to meet him upon some remote picket station and offer his fair +proportions to the quick eye of a youngster who would draw a bead on him +before he had time to say dunder and blixum. + +We drove back to the town. No message. After dinner still no message. +Dr. Cuyler, Chief Army Hospital Inspector, is in town, they say. Let us +hunt him up,--perhaps he can help us. + +We found him at the Jones House. A gentleman of large proportions, but +of lively temperament, his frame knit in the North, I think, but ripened +in Georgia, incisive, prompt but good-humored, wearing his broad-brimmed, +steeple-crowned felt hat with the least possible tilt on one side,--a +sure sign of exuberant vitality in a mature and dignified person like +him, business-like in his ways, and not to be interrupted while occupied +with another, but giving himself up heartily to the claimant who held him +for the time. He was so genial, so cordial, so encouraging, that it +seemed as if the clouds, which had been thick all the morning, broke away +as we came into his presence, and the sunshine of his large nature filled +the air all around us. He took the matter in hand at once, as if it were +his own private affair. In ten minutes he had a second telegraphic +message on its way to Mrs. K at Hagerstown, sent through the Government +channel from the State Capitol,--one so direct and urgent that I should +be sure of an answer to it, whatever became of the one I had sent in the +morning. + +While this was going on, we hired a dilapidated barouche, driven by an +odd young native, neither boy nor man, "as a codling when 't is almost an +apple," who said wery for very, simple and sincere, who smiled faintly +at our pleasantries, always with a certain reserve of suspicion, and a +gleam of the shrewdness that all men get who live in the atmosphere of +horses. He drove us round by the Capitol grounds, white with tents, +which were disgraced in my eyes by unsoldierly scrawls in huge letters, +thus: THE SEVEN BLOOMSBURY BROTHERS, DEVIL'S HOLE, and similar +inscriptions. Then to the Beacon Street of Harrisburg, which looks upon +the Susquehanna instead of the Common, and shows a long front of handsome +houses with fair gardens. The river is pretty nearly a mile across here, +but very shallow now. The codling told us that a Rebel spy had been +caught trying its fords a little while ago, and was now at Camp Curtin +with a heavy ball chained to his leg,--a popular story, but a lie, Dr. +Wilson said. A little farther along we came to the barkless stump of the +tree to which Mr. Harris, the Cecrops of the city named after him, was +tied by the Indians for some unpleasant operation of scalping or +roasting, when he was rescued by friendly savages, who paddled across the +stream to save him. Our youngling pointed out a very respectable-looking +stone house as having been "built by the Indians" about those times. +Guides have queer notions occasionally. + +I was at Niagara just when Dr. Rae arrived there with his companions and +dogs and things from his Arctic search after the lost navigator. + +"Who are those?" I said to my conductor. + +"Them?" he answered. "Them's the men that's been out West, out to +Michig'n, aft' Sir Ben Franklin." + +Of the other sights of Harrisburg the Brant House or Hotel, or whatever +it is called, seems most worth notice. Its facade is imposing, with a +row of stately columns, high above which a broad sign impends, like a +crag over the brow of a lofty precipice. The lower floor only appeared +to be open to the public. Its tessellated pavement and ample courts +suggested the idea of a temple where great multitudes might kneel +uncrowded at their devotions; but from appearances about the place where +the altar should be, I judged, that, if one asked the officiating priest +for the cup which cheers and likewise inebriates, his prayer would not be +unanswered. The edifice recalled to me a similar phenomenon I had once +looked upon,--the famous Caffe Pedrocchi at Padua. It was the same +thing in Italy and America: a rich man builds himself a mausoleum, and +calls it a place of entertainment. The fragrance of innumerable +libations and the smoke of incense-breathing cigars and pipes shall +ascend day and night through the arches of his funereal monument. What +are the poor dips which flare and flicker on the crowns of spikes that +stand at the corners of St. Genevieve's filigree-cased sarcophagus to +this perpetual offering of sacrifice? + +Ten o'clock in the evening was approaching. The telegraph office would +presently close, and as yet there were no tidings from Hagerstown. Let +us step over and see for ourselves. A message! A message! + +"Captain H. still here leaves seven to-morrow for Harrisburg Penna Is +doing well Mrs HK--." + +A note from Dr. Cuyler to the same effect came soon afterwards to the +hotel. + +We shall sleep well to-night; but let us sit awhile with nubiferous, or, +if we may coin a word, nepheligenous accompaniment, such as shall gently +narcotize the over-wearied brain and fold its convolutions for slumber +like the leaves of a lily at nightfall. For now the over-tense nerves +are all unstraining themselves, and a buzz, like that which comes over +one who stops after being long jolted upon an uneasy pavement, makes the +whole frame alive with a luxurious languid sense of all its inmost +fibres. Our cheerfulness ran over, and the mild, pensive clerk was so +magnetized by it that he came and sat down with us. He presently +confided to me, with infinite naivete and ingenuousness, that, judging +from my personal appearance, he should not have thought me the writer +that he in his generosity reckoned me to be. His conception, so far as I +could reach it, involved a huge, uplifted forehead, embossed with +protuberant organs of the intellectual faculties, such as all writers are +supposed to possess in abounding measure. While I fell short of his +ideal in this respect, he was pleased to say that he found me by no means +the remote and inaccessible personage he had imagined, and that I had +nothing of the dandy about me, which last compliment I had a modest +consciousness of most abundantly deserving. + +Sweet slumbers brought us to the morning of Thursday. The train from +Hagerstown was due at 11.15 A. M: We took another ride behind the +codling, who showed us the sights of yesterday over again. Being in a +gracious mood of mind, I enlarged on the varying aspects of the +town-pumps and other striking objects which we had once inspected, as +seen by the different lights of evening and morning. After this, we +visited the school-house hospital. A fine young fellow, whose arm had +been shattered, was just falling into the spasms of lock-jaw. The beads +of sweat stood large and round on his flushed and contracted features. +He was under the effect of opiates,--why not (if his case was desperate, +as it seemed to be considered) stop his sufferings with chloroform? It +was suggested that it might shorten life. "What then?" I said. "Are a +dozen additional spasms worth living for?" + +The time approached for the train to arrive from Hagerstown, and we went +to the station. I was struck, while waiting there, with what seemed to +me a great want of care for the safety of the people standing round. +Just after my companion and myself had stepped off the track, I noticed a +car coming quietly along at a walk, as one may say, without engine, +without visible conductor, without any person heralding its approach, so +silently, so insidiously, that I could not help thinking how very near it +came to flattening out me and my match-box worse than the Ravel +pantomimist and his snuff-box were flattened out in the play. The train +was late,--fifteen minutes, half an hour late, and I began to get +nervous, lest something had happened. While I was looking for it, out +started a freight-train, as if on purpose to meet the cars I was +expecting, for a grand smash-up. I shivered at the thought, and asked an +employee of the road, with whom I had formed an acquaintance a few +minutes old, why there should not be a collision of the expected train +with this which was just going out. He smiled an official smile, and +answered that they arranged to prevent that, or words to that effect. + +Twenty-four hours had not passed from that moment when a collision did +occur, just out of the city, where I feared it, by which at least eleven +persons were killed, and from forty to sixty more were maimed and +crippled! + +To-day there was the delay spoken of, but nothing worse. The expected +train came in so quietly that I was almost startled to see it on the +track. Let us walk calmly through the cars, and look around us. + +In the first car, on the fourth seat to the right, I saw my Captain; +there saw I him, even my first-born, whom I had sought through many +cities. + +"How are you, Boy?" + +"How are you, Dad?" + +Such are the proprieties of life, as they are observed among us +Anglo-Saxons of the nineteenth century, decently disguising those natural +impulses that made Joseph, the Prime Minister of Egypt, weep aloud so +that the Egyptians and the house of Pharaoh heard, nay, which had once +overcome his shaggy old uncle Esau so entirely that he fell on his +brother's neck and cried like a baby in the presence of all the women. +But the hidden cisterns of the soul may be filling fast with sweet tears, +while the windows through which it looks are undimmed by a drop or a film +of moisture. + +These are times in which we cannot live solely for selfish joys or +griefs. I had not let fall the hand I held, when a sad, calm voice +addressed me by name. I fear that at the moment I was too much absorbed +in my own feelings; for certainly at any other time. I should have +yielded myself without stint to the sympathy which this meeting might +well call forth. + +"You remember my son, Cortland Saunders, whom I brought to see you once +in Boston?" + +"I do remember him well." + +"He was killed on Monday, at Shepherdstown. I am carrying his body back +with me on this train. He was my only child. If you could come to my +house,--I can hardly call it my home now,--it would be a pleasure to me." + +This young man, belonging in Philadelphia, was the author of a "New +System of Latin Paradigms," a work showing extraordinary scholarship and +capacity. It was this book which first made me acquainted with him, and +I kept him in my memory, for there was genius in the youth. Some time +afterwards he came to me with a modest request to be introduced to +President Felton, and one or two others, who would aid him in a course of +independent study he was proposing to himself. I was most happy to +smooth the way for him, and he came repeatedly after this to see me and +express his satisfaction in the opportunities for study he enjoyed at +Cambridge. He was a dark, still, slender person, always with a +trance-like remoteness, a mystic dreaminess of manner, such as I never +saw in any other youth. Whether he heard with difficulty, or whether his +mind reacted slowly on an alien thought, I could not say; but his answer +would often be behind time, and then a vague, sweet smile, or a few words +spoken under his breath, as if he had been trained in sick men's +chambers. For such a young man, seemingly destined for the inner life of +contemplation, to be a soldier seemed almost unnatural. Yet he spoke to +me of his intention to offer himself to his country, and his blood must +now be reckoned among the precious sacrifices which will make her soil +sacred forever. Had he lived, I doubt not that he would have redeemed +the rare promise of his earlier years. He has done better, for he has +died that unborn generations may attain the hopes held out to our nation +and to mankind. + +So, then, I had been within ten miles of the place where my wounded +soldier was lying, and then calmly turned my back upon him to come once +more round by a journey of three or four hundred miles to the same region +I had left! No mysterious attraction warned me that the heart warm with +the same blood as mine was throbbing so near my own. I thought of that +lovely, tender passage where Gabriel glides unconsciously by Evangeline +upon the great river. Ah, me! if that railroad crash had been a few +hours earlier, we two should never have met again, after coming so close +to each other! + +The source of my repeated disappointments was soon made clear enough. The +Captain had gone to Hagerstown, intending to take the cars at once for +Philadelphia, as his three friends actually did, and as I took it for +granted he certainly would. But as he walked languidly along, some +ladies saw him across the street, and seeing, were moved with pity, and +pitying, spoke such soft words that he was tempted to accept their +invitation and rest awhile beneath their hospitable roof. The mansion +was old, as the dwellings of gentlefolks should be; the ladies were some +of them young, and all were full of kindness; there were gentle cares, +and unasked luxuries, and pleasant talk, and music-sprinklings from the +piano, with a sweet voice to keep them company,--and all this after the +swamps of the Chickahominy, the mud and flies of Harrison's Landing, the +dragging marches, the desperate battles, the fretting wound, the jolting +ambulance, the log-house, and the rickety milk--cart! Thanks, uncounted +thanks to the angelic ladies whose charming attentions detained him from +Saturday to Thursday, to his great advantage and my infinite +bewilderment! As for his wound, how could it do otherwise than well +under such hands? The bullet had gone smoothly through, dodging +everything but a few nervous branches, which would come right in time and +leave him as well as ever. + +At ten that evening we were in Philadelphia, the Captain at the house of +the friends so often referred to, and I the guest of Charley, my kind +companion. The Quaker element gives an irresistible attraction to these +benignant Philadelphia households. Many things reminded me that I was no +longer in the land of the Pilgrims. On the table were Kool Slaa and +Schmeer Kase, but the good grandmother who dispensed with such quiet, +simple grace these and more familiar delicacies was literally ignorant of +Baked Beans, and asked if it was the Lima bean which was employed in that +marvellous dish of animalized leguminous farina! + +Charley was pleased with my comparing the face of the small Ethiop known +to his household as "Tines" to a huckleberry with features. He also +approved my parallel between a certain German blonde young maiden whom we +passed in the street and the "Morris White" peach. But he was so +good-humored at times, that, if one scratched a lucifer, he accepted it +as an illumination. + +A day in Philadelphia left a very agreeable impression of the outside of +that great city, which has endeared itself so much of late to all the +country by its most noble and generous care of our soldiers. Measured by +its sovereign hotel, the Continental, it would stand at the head of our +economic civilization. It provides for the comforts and conveniences, +and many of the elegances of life, more satisfactorily than any American +city, perhaps than any other city anywhere. Many of its characteristics +are accounted for to some extent by its geographical position. It is the +great neutral centre of the Continent, where the fiery enthusiasms of the +South and the keen fanaticisms of the North meet at their outer limits, +and result in a compound which neither turns litmus red nor turmeric +brown. It lives largely on its traditions, of which, leaving out +Franklin and Independence Hall, the most imposing must be considered its +famous water-works. In my younger days I visited Fairmount, and it was +with a pious reverence that I renewed my pilgrimage to that perennial +fountain. Its watery ventricles were throbbing with the same systole and +diastole as when, the blood of twenty years bounding in my own heart, I +looked upon their giant mechanism. But in the place of "Pratt's Garden" +was an open park, and the old house where Robert Morris held his court in +a former generation was changing to a public restaurant. A suspension +bridge cobwebbed itself across the Schuylkill where that audacious arch +used to leap the river at a single bound,--an arch of greater span, as +they loved to tell us, than was ever before constructed. The Upper Ferry +Bridge was to the Schuylkill what the Colossus was to the harbor of +Rhodes. It had an air of dash about it which went far towards redeeming +the dead level of respectable average which flattens the physiognomy of +the rectangular city. Philadelphia will never be herself again until +another Robert Mills and another Lewis Wernwag have shaped her a new +palladium. She must leap the Schuylkill again, or old men will sadly +shake their heads, like the Jews at the sight of the second temple, +remembering the glories of that which it replaced. + +There are times when Ethiopian minstrelsy can amuse, if it does not +charm, a weary soul, and such a vacant hour there was on this same Friday +evening. The "opera-house" was spacious and admirably ventilated. As I +was listening to the merriment of the sooty buffoons, I happened to cast +my eyes up to the ceiling, and through an open semicircular window a +bright solitary star looked me calmly in the eyes. It was a strange +intrusion of the vast eternities beckoning from the infinite spaces. I +called the attention of one of my neighbors to it, but "Bones" was +irresistibly droll, and Arcturus, or Aldebaran, or whatever the blazing +luminary may have been, with all his revolving worlds, sailed uncared-for +down the firmament. + +On Saturday morning we took up our line of march for New York. Mr. +Felton, President of the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore Railroad, +had already called upon me, with a benevolent and sagacious look on his +face which implied that he knew how to do me a service and meant to do +it. Sure enough, when we got to the depot, we found a couch spread for +the Captain, and both of us were passed on to New York with no visits, +but those of civility, from the conductor. The best thing I saw on the +route was a rustic fence, near Elizabethtown, I think, but I am not quite +sure. There was more genius in it than in any structure of the kind I +have ever seen,--each length being of a special pattern, ramified, +reticulated, contorted, as the limbs of the trees had grown. I trust +some friend will photograph or stereograph this fence for me, to go with +the view of the spires of Frederick, already referred to, as mementos of +my journey. + +I had come to feeling that I knew most of the respectably dressed people +whom I met in the cars, and had been in contact with them at some time or +other. Three or four ladies and gentlemen were near us, forming a group +by themselves. Presently one addressed me by name, and, on inquiry, I +found him to be the gentleman who was with me in the pulpit as Orator on +the occasion of another Phi Beta Kappa poem, one delivered at New Haven. +The party were very courteous and friendly, and contributed in various +ways to our comfort. + +It sometimes seems to me as if there were only about a thousand people in +the world, who keep going round and round behind the scenes and then +before them, like the "army" in a beggarly stage-show. Suppose that I +should really wish; some time or other, to get away from this everlasting +circle of revolving supernumeraries, where should I buy a ticket the like +of which was not in some of their pockets, or find a seat to which some +one of them was not a neighbor. + +A little less than a year before, after the Ball's Bluff accident, the +Captain, then the Lieutenant, and myself had reposed for a night on our +homeward journey at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, where we were lodged on the +ground-floor, and fared sumptuously. We were not so peculiarly fortunate +this time, the house being really very full. Farther from the flowers and +nearer to the stars,--to reach the neighborhood of which last the per +ardua of three or four flights of stairs was formidable for any mortal, +wounded or well. + +The "vertical railway" settled that for us, however. It is a giant +corkscrew forever pulling a mammoth cork, which, by some divine judgment, +is no sooner drawn than it is replaced in its position. This ascending +and descending stopper is hollow, carpeted, with cushioned seats, and is +watched over by two condemned souls, called conductors, one of whom is +said to be named Igion, and the other Sisyphus. + +I love New York, because, as in Paris, everybody that lives in it feels +that it is his property,--at least, as much as it is anybody's. My +Broadway, in particular, I love almost as I used to love my Boulevards. +I went, therefore, with peculiar interest, on the day that we rested at +our grand hotel, to visit some new pleasure-grounds the citizens had been +arranging for us, and which I had not yet seen. The Central Park is an +expanse of wild country, well crumpled so as to form ridges which will +give views and hollows that will hold water. The hips and elbows and +other bones of Nature stick out here and there in the shape of rocks +which give character to the scenery, and an unchangeable, unpurchasable +look to a landscape that without them would have been in danger of being +fattened by art and money out of all its native features. The roads were +fine, the sheets of water beautiful, the bridges handsome, the swans +elegant in their deportment, the grass green and as short as a fast +horse's winter coat. I could not learn whether it was kept so by +clipping or singeing. I was delighted with my new property,--but it cost +me four dollars to get there, so far was it beyond the Pillars of +Hercules of the fashionable quarter. What it will be by and by depends +on circumstances; but at present it is as much central to New York as +Brookline is central to Boston. + +The question is not between Mr. Olmsted's admirably arranged, but remote +pleasure-ground and our Common, with its batrachian pool, but between his +Excentric Park and our finest suburban scenery, between its artificial +reservoirs and the broad natural sheet of Jamaica Pond. I say this not +invidiously, but in justice to the beauties which surround our own +metropolis. To compare the situations of any dwellings in either of the +great cities with those which look upon the Common, the Public Garden, +the waters of the Back Bay, would be to take an unfair advantage of Fifth +Avenue and Walnut Street. St. Botolph's daughter dresses in plainer +clothes than her more stately sisters, but she wears an emerald on her +right hand and a diamond on her left that Cybele herself need not be +ashamed of. + +On Monday morning, the twenty-ninth of September, we took the cars for +home. Vacant lots, with Irish and pigs; vegetable-gardens; straggling +houses; the high bridge; villages, not enchanting; then Stamford: then +NORWALK. Here, on the sixth of May, 1853, I passed close on the heels of +the great disaster. But that my lids were heavy on that morning, my +readers would probably have had no further trouble with me. Two of my +friends saw the car in which they rode break in the middle and leave them +hanging over the abyss. From Norwalk to Boston, that day's journey of +two hundred miles was a long funeral procession. + +Bridgeport, waiting for Iranistan to rise from its ashes with all its +phoenix-egg domes,--bubbles of wealth that broke, ready to be blown +again; iridescent as ever, which is pleasant, for the world likes +cheerful Mr. Barnum's success; New Haven, girt with flat marshes that +look like monstrous billiard-tables, with hay-cocks lying about for +balls,--romantic with West Rock and its legends,--cursed with a +detestable depot, whose niggardly arrangements crowd the track so +murderously close to the wall that the peine forte et dare must be the +frequent penalty of an innocent walk on its platform,--with its neat +carriages, metropolitan hotels, precious old college-dormitories, its +vistas of elms and its dishevelled weeping-willows; Hartford, +substantial, well-bridged, many--steepled city,--every conical spire an +extinguisher of some nineteenth-century heresy; so onward, by and across +the broad, shallow Connecticut,--dull red road and dark river woven in +like warp and woof by the shuttle of the darting engine; then +Springfield, the wide-meadowed, well-feeding, horse-loving, hot-summered, +giant-treed town,--city among villages, village among cities; Worcester, +with its Daedalian labyrinth of crossing railroad-bars, where the +snorting Minotaurs, breathing fire and smoke and hot vapors, are stabled +in their dens; Framingham, fair cup-bearer, leaf-cinctured Hebe of the +deep-bosomed Queen sitting by the seaside on the throne of the Six +Nations. And now I begin to know the road, not by towns, but by single +dwellings; not by miles, but by rods. The poles of the great magnet that +draws in all the iron tracks through the grooves of all the mountains +must be near at hand, for here are crossings, and sudden stops, and +screams of alarmed engines heard all around. The tall granite obelisk +comes into view far away on the left, its bevelled cap-stone sharp +against the sky; the lofty chimneys of Charlestown and East Cambridge +flaunt their smoky banners up in the thin air; and now one fair bosom of +the three-pilled city, with its dome-crowned summit, reveals itself, as +when many-breasted Ephesian Artemis appeared with half-open chlamys +before her worshippers. + +Fling open the window-blinds of the chamber that looks out on the waters +and towards the western sun! Let the joyous light shine in upon the +pictures that hang upon its walls and the shelves thick-set with the +names of poets and philosophers and sacred teachers, in whose pages our +boys learn that life is noble only when it is held cheap by the side of +honor and of duty. Lay him in his own bed, and let him sleep off his +aches and weariness. So comes down another night over this household, +unbroken by any messenger of evil tidings,--a night of peaceful rest and +grateful thoughts; for this our son and brother was dead and is alive +again, and was lost and is found. + + + + +THE INEVITABLE TRIAL + +[An Oration delivered before the City Authorities of Boston, on the 4th +of July, 1863.] + +It is our first impulse, upon this returning day of our nation's birth, +to recall whatever is happiest and noblest in our past history, and to +join our voices in celebrating the statesmen and the heroes, the men of +thought and the men of action, to whom that history owes its existence. +In other years this pleasing office may have been all that was required +of the holiday speaker. But to-day, when the very life of the nation is +threatened, when clouds are thick about us, and men's hearts are +throbbing with passion, or failing with fear, it is the living question +of the hour, and not the dead story of the past, which forces itself into +all minds, and will find unrebuked debate in all assemblies. + +In periods of disturbance like the present, many persons who sincerely +love their country and mean to do their duty to her disappoint the hopes +and expectations of those who are actively working in her cause. They +seem to have lost whatever moral force they may have once possessed, and +to go drifting about from one profitless discontent to another, at a time +when every citizen is called upon for cheerful, ready service. It is +because their minds are bewildered, and they are no longer truly +themselves. Show them the path of duty, inspire them with hope for the +future, lead them upwards from the turbid stream of events to the bright, +translucent springs of eternal principles, strengthen their trust in +humanity and their faith in God, and you may yet restore them to their +manhood and their country. + +At all times, and especially on this anniversary of glorious +recollections and kindly enthusiasms, we should try to judge the weak and +wavering souls of our brothers fairly and generously. The conditions in +which our vast community of peace-loving citizens find themselves are new +and unprovided for. Our quiet burghers and farmers are in the position +of river-boats blown from their moorings out upon a vast ocean, where +such a typhoon is raging as no mariner who sails its waters ever before +looked upon. If their beliefs change with the veering of the blast, if +their trust in their fellow-men, and in the course of Divine Providence, +seems well-nigh shipwrecked, we must remember that they were taken +unawares, and without the preparation which could fit them to struggle +with these tempestuous elements. In times like these the faith is the +man; and they to whom it is given in larger measure owe a special duty to +those who for want of it are faint at heart, uncertain in speech, feeble +in effort, and purposeless in aim. + +Assuming without argument a few simple propositions,--that +self-government is the natural condition of an adult society, as +distinguished from the immature state, in which the temporary +arrangements of monarchy and oligarchy are tolerated as conveniences; +that the end of all social compacts is, or ought to be, to give every +child born into the world the fairest chance to make the most and the +best of itself that laws can give it; that Liberty, the one of the two +claimants who swears that her babe shall not be split in halves and +divided between them, is the true mother of this blessed Union; that the +contest in which we are engaged is one of principles overlaid by +circumstances; that the longer we fight, and the more we study the +movements of events and ideas, the more clearly we find the moral nature +of the cause at issue emerging in the field and in the study; that all +honest persons with average natural sensibility, with respectable +understanding, educated in the school of northern teaching, will have +eventually to range themselves in the armed or unarmed host which fights +or pleads for freedom, as against every form of tyranny; if not in the +front rank now, then in the rear rank by and by;--assuming these +propositions, as many, perhaps most of us, are ready to do, and believing +that the more they are debated before the public the more they will gain +converts, we owe it to the timid and the doubting to keep the great +questions of the time in unceasing and untiring agitation. They must be +discussed, in all ways consistent with the public welfare, by different +classes of thinkers; by priests and laymen; by statesmen and simple +voters; by moralists and lawyers; by men of science and uneducated +hand-laborers; by men of facts and figures, and by men of theories and +aspirations; in the abstract and in the concrete; discussed and +rediscussed every month, every week, every day, and almost every hour, as +the telegraph tells us of some new upheaval or subsidence of the rocky +base of our political order. + +Such discussions may not be necessary to strengthen the convictions of +the great body of loyal citizens. They may do nothing toward changing +the views of those, if such there be, as some profess to believe, who +follow politics as a trade. They may have no hold upon that class of +persons who are defective in moral sensibility, just as other persons are +wanting in an ear for music. But for the honest, vacillating minds, the +tender consciences supported by the tremulous knees of an infirm +intelligence, the timid compromisers who are always trying to curve the +straight lines and round the sharp angles of eternal law, the continual +debate of these living questions is the one offered means of grace and +hope of earthly redemption. And thus a true, unhesitating patriot may be +willing to listen with patience to arguments which he does not need, to +appeals which have no special significance for him, in the hope that some +less clear in mind or less courageous in temper may profit by them. + +As we look at the condition in which we find ourselves on this fourth day +of July, 1863, at the beginning of the Eighty-eighth Year of American +Independence, we may well ask ourselves what right we have to indulge in +public rejoicings. If the war in which we are engaged is an accidental +one, which might have been avoided but for our fault; if it is for any +ambitious or unworthy purpose on our part; if it is hopeless, and we are +madly persisting in it; if it is our duty and in our power to make a safe +and honorable peace, and we refuse to do it; if our free institutions are +in danger of becoming subverted, and giving place to an irresponsible +tyranny; if we are moving in the narrow circles which are to ingulf us in +national ruin,--then we had better sing a dirge, and leave this idle +assemblage, and hush the noisy cannon which are reverberating through the +air, and tear down the scaffolds which are soon to blaze with fiery +symbols; for it is mourning and not joy that should cover the land; there +should be silence, and not the echo of noisy gladness, in our streets; +and the emblems with which we tell our nation's story and prefigure its +future should be traced, not in fire, but in ashes. + +If, on the other hand, this war is no accident, but an inevitable result +of long incubating causes; inevitable as the cataclysms that swept away +the monstrous births of primeval nature; if it is for no mean, unworthy +end, but for national life, for liberty everywhere, for humanity, for the +kingdom of God on earth; if it is not hopeless, but only growing to such +dimensions that the world shall remember the final triumph of right +throughout all time; if there is no safe and honorable peace for us but a +peace proclaimed from the capital of every revolted province in the name +of the sacred, inviolable Union; if the fear of tyranny is a phantasm, +conjured up by the imagination of the weak, acted on by the craft of the +cunning; if so far from circling inward to the gulf of our perdition, the +movement of past years is reversed, and every revolution carries us +farther and farther from the centre of the vortex, until, by God's +blessing, we shall soon find ourselves freed from the outermost coil of +the accursed spiral; if all these things are true; if we may hope to make +them seem true, or even probable, to the doubting soul, in an hour's +discourse, then we may join without madness in the day's exultant +festivities; the bells may ring, the cannon may roar, the incense of our +harmless saltpetre fill the air, and the children who are to inherit the +fruit of these toiling, agonizing years, go about unblamed, making day +and night vocal with their jubilant patriotism. + +The struggle in which we are engaged was inevitable; it might have come a +little sooner, or a little later, but it must have come. The disease of +the nation was organic, and not functional, and the rough chirurgery of +war was its only remedy. + +In opposition to this view, there are many languid thinkers who lapse +into a forlorn belief that if this or that man had never lived, or if +this or that other man had not ceased to live, the country might have +gone on in peace and prosperity, until its felicity merged in the glories +of the millennium. If Mr. Calhoun had never proclaimed his heresies; if +Mr. Garrison had never published his paper; if Mr. Phillips, the +Cassandra in masculine shape of our long prosperous Ilium, had never +uttered his melodious prophecies; if the silver tones of Mr. Clay had +still sounded in the senate-chamber to smooth the billows of contention; +if the Olympian brow of Daniel Webster had been lifted from the dust to +fix its awful frown on the darkening scowl of rebellion,--we might have +been spared this dread season of convulsion. All this is but simple +Martha's faith, without the reason she could have given: "If Thou hadst +been here, my brother had not died." + +They little know the tidal movements of national thought and feeling, who +believe that they depend for existence on a few swimmers who ride their +waves. It is not Leviathan that leads the ocean from continent to +continent, but the ocean which bears his mighty bulk as it wafts its own +bubbles. If this is true of all the narrower manifestations of human +progress, how much more must it be true of those broad movements in the +intellectual and spiritual domain which interest all mankind? But in the +more limited ranges referred to, no fact is more familiar than that there +is a simultaneous impulse acting on many individual minds at once, so +that genius comes in clusters, and shines rarely as a single star. You +may trace a common motive and force in the pyramid-builders of the +earliest recorded antiquity, in the evolution of Greek architecture, and +in the sudden springing up of those wondrous cathedrals of the twelfth +and following centuries, growing out of the soil with stem and bud and +blossom, like flowers of stone whose seeds might well have been the +flaming aerolites cast over the battlements of heaven. You may see the +same law showing itself in the brief periods of glory which make the +names of Pericles and Augustus illustrious with reflected splendors; in +the painters, the sculptors, the scholars of "Leo's golden days"; in the +authors of the Elizabethan time; in the poets of the first part of this +century following that dreary period, suffering alike from the silence of +Cowper and the song of Hayley. You may accept the fact as natural, that +Zwingli and Luther, without knowing each other, preached the same +reformed gospel; that Newton, and Hooke, and Halley, and Wren arrived +independently of each other at the great law of the diminution of gravity +with the square of the distance; that Leverrier and Adams felt their +hands meeting, as it were, as they stretched them into the outer darkness +beyond the orbit of Uranus, in search of the dim, unseen Planet; that +Fulton and Bell, that Wheatstone and Morse, that Daguerre and Niepce, +were moving almost simultaneously in parallel paths to the same end. You +see why Patrick Henry, in Richmond, and Samuel Adams, in Boston, were +startling the crown officials with the same accents of liberty, and why +the Mecklenburg Resolutions had the very ring of the Protest of the +Province of Massachusetts. This law of simultaneous intellectual +movement, recognized by all thinkers, expatiated upon by Lord Macaulay +and by Mr. Herbert Spencer among recent writers, is eminently applicable +to that change of thought and feeling which necessarily led to the +present conflict. + +The antagonism of the two sections of the Union was not the work of this +or that enthusiast or fanatic. It was the consequence of a movement in +mass of two different forms of civilization in different directions, and +the men to whom it was attributed were only those who represented it most +completely, or who talked longest and loudest about it. Long before the +accents of those famous statesmen referred to ever resounded in the halls +of the Capitol, long before the "Liberator" opened its batteries, the +controversy now working itself out by trial of battle was foreseen and +predicted. Washington warned his countrymen of the danger of sectional +divisions, well knowing the line of cleavage that ran through the +seemingly solid fabric. Jefferson foreshadowed the judgment to fall upon +the land for its sins against a just God. Andrew Jackson announced a +quarter of a century beforehand that the next pretext of revolution would +be slavery. De Tocqueville recognized with that penetrating insight +which analyzed our institutions and conditions so keenly, that the Union +was to be endangered by slavery, not through its interests, but through +the change of character it was bringing about in the people of the two +sections, the same fatal change which George Mason, more than half a +century before, had declared to be the most pernicious effect of the +system, adding the solemn warning, now fearfully justifying itself in the +sight of his descendants, that "by an inevitable chain of causes and +effects, Providence punishes national sins by national calamities." The +Virginian romancer pictured the far-off scenes of the conflict which he +saw approaching as the prophets of Israel painted the coming woes of +Jerusalem, and the strong iconoclast of Boston announced the very year +when the curtain should rise on the yet unopened drama. + +The wise men of the past, and the shrewd men of our own time, who warned +us of the calamities in store for our nation, never doubted what was the +cause which was to produce first alienation and finally rupture. The +descendants of the men "daily exercised in tyranny," the "petty tyrants" +as their own leading statesmen called them long ago, came at length to +love the institution which their fathers had condemned while they +tolerated. It is the fearful realization of that vision of the poet +where the lost angels snuff up with eager nostrils the sulphurous +emanations of the bottomless abyss,--so have their natures become changed +by long breathing the atmosphere of the realm of darkness. + +At last, in the fulness of time, the fruits of sin ripened in a sudden +harvest of crime. Violence stalked into the senate-chamber, theft and +perjury wound their way into the cabinet, and, finally, openly organized +conspiracy, with force and arms, made burglarious entrance into a chief +stronghold of the Union. That the principle which underlay these acts of +fraud and violence should be irrevocably recorded with every needed +sanction, it pleased God to select a chief ruler of the false government +to be its Messiah to the listening world. As with Pharaoh, the Lord +hardened his heart, while he opened his mouth, as of old he opened that +of the unwise animal ridden by cursing Balaam. Then spake Mr. +"Vice-President" Stephens those memorable words which fixed forever the +theory of the new social order. He first lifted a degraded barbarism to +the dignity of a philosophic system. He first proclaimed the gospel of +eternal tyranny as the new revelation which Providence had reserved for +the western Palestine. Hear, O heavens! and give ear, O earth! The +corner-stone of the new-born dispensation is the recognized inequality of +races; not that the strong may protect the weak, as men protect women and +children, but that the strong may claim the authority of Nature and of +God to buy, to sell, to scourge, to hunt, to cheat out of the reward of +his labor, to keep in perpetual ignorance, to blast with hereditary +curses throughout all time, the bronzed foundling of the New World, upon +whose darkness has dawned the star of the occidental Bethlehem! + +After two years of war have consolidated the opinion of the Slave States, +we read in the "Richmond Examiner": "The establishment of the +Confederacy is verily a distinct reaction against the whole course of the +mistaken civilization of the age. For 'Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,' +we have deliberately substituted Slavery, Subordination, and Government." + +A simple diagram, within the reach of all, shows how idle it is to look +for any other cause than slavery as having any material agency in +dividing the country. Match the two broken pieces of the Union, and you +will find the fissure that separates them zigzagging itself half across +the continent like an isothermal line, shooting its splintery +projections, and opening its reentering angles, not merely according to +the limitations of particular States, but as a county or other limited +section of ground belongs to freedom or to slavery. Add to this the +official statement made in 1862, that "there is not one regiment or +battalion, or even company of men, which was organized in or derived from +the Free States or Territories, anywhere, against the Union"; throw in +gratuitously Mr. Stephens's explicit declaration in the speech referred +to, and we will consider the evidence closed for the present on this +count of the indictment. + +In the face of these predictions, these declarations, this line of +fracture, this precise statement, testimony from so many sources, +extending through several generations, as to the necessary effect of +slavery, a priori, and its actual influence as shown by the facts, few +will suppose that anything we could have done would have stayed its +course or prevented it from working out its legitimate effects on the +white subjects of its corrupting dominion. Northern acquiescence or even +sympathy may have sometimes helped to make it sit more easily on the +consciences of its supporters. Many profess to think that Northern +fanaticism, as they call it, acted like a mordant in fixing the black dye +of slavery in regions which would but for that have washed themselves +free of its stain in tears of penitence. It is a delusion and a snare to +trust in any such false and flimsy reasons where there is enough and more +than enough in the institution itself to account for its growth. Slavery +gratifies at once the love of power, the love of money, and the love of +ease; it finds a victim for anger who cannot smite back his oppressor; +and it offers to all, without measure, the seductive privileges which the +Mormon gospel reserves for the true believers on earth, and the Bible of +Mahomet only dares promise to the saints in heaven. + +Still it is common, common even to vulgarism, to hear the remark that the +same gallows-tree ought to bear as its fruit the arch-traitor and the +leading champion of aggressive liberty. The mob of Jerusalem was not +satisfied with its two crucified thieves; it must have a cross also for +the reforming Galilean, who interfered so rudely with its conservative +traditions! It is asserted that the fault was quite as much on our side +as on the other; that our agitators and abolishers kindled the flame for +which the combustibles were all ready on the other side of the border. +If these men could have been silenced, our brothers had not died. + +Who are the persons that use this argument? They are the very ones who +are at the present moment most zealous in maintaining the right of free +discussion. At a time when every power the nation can summon is needed +to ward off the blows aimed at its life, and turn their force upon its +foes,--when a false traitor at home may lose us a battle by a word, and a +lying newspaper may demoralize an army by its daily or weekly +stillicidium of poison, they insist with loud acclaim upon the liberty of +speech and of the press; liberty, nay license, to deal with government, +with leaders, with every measure, however urgent, in any terms they +choose, to traduce the officer before his own soldiers, and assail the +only men who have any claim at all to rule over the country, as the very +ones who are least worthy to be obeyed. If these opposition members of +society are to have their way now, they cannot find fault with those +persons who spoke their minds freely in the past on that great question +which, as we have agreed, underlies all our present dissensions. + +It is easy to understand the bitterness which is often shown towards +reformers. They are never general favorites. They are apt to interfere +with vested rights and time-hallowed interests. They often wear an +unlovely, forbidding aspect. Their office corresponds to that of +Nature's sanitary commission for the removal of material nuisances. It +is not the butterfly, but the beetle, which she employs for this duty. +It is not the bird of paradise and the nightingale, but the fowl of dark +plumage and unmelodious voice, to which is entrusted the sacred duty of +eliminating the substances that infect the air. And the force of obvious +analogy teaches us not to expect all the qualities which please the +general taste in those whose instincts lead them to attack the moral +nuisances which poison the atmosphere of society. But whether they +please us in all their aspects or not, is not the question. Like them or +not, they must and will perform their office, and we cannot stop them. +They may be unwise, violent, abusive, extravagant, impracticable, but +they are alive, at any rate, and it is their business to remove abuses as +soon as they are dead, and often to help them to die. To quarrel with +them because they are beetles, and not butterflies, is natural, but far +from profitable. They grow none the less vigorously for being trodden +upon, like those tough weeds that love to nestle between the stones of +court-yard pavements. If you strike at one of their heads with the +bludgeon of the law, or of violence, it flies open like the seedcapsule +of a snap-weed, and fills the whole region with seminal thoughts which +will spring up in a crop just like the original martyr. They chased one +of these enthusiasts, who attacked slavery, from St. Louis, and shot him +at Alton in 1837; and on the 23d of June just passed, the Governor of +Missouri, chairman of the Committee on Emancipation, introduced to the +Convention an Ordinance for the final extinction of Slavery! They hunted +another through the streets of a great Northern city in 1835; and within +a few weeks a regiment of colored soldiers, many of them bearing the +marks of the slave-driver's whip on their backs, marched out before a +vast multitude tremulous with newly-stirred sympathies, through the +streets of the same city, to fight our battles in the name of God and +Liberty! + +The same persons who abuse the reformers, and lay all our troubles at +their door, are apt to be severe also on what they contemptuously +emphasize as "sentiments" considered as motives of action. It is +charitable to believe that they do not seriously contemplate or truly +understand the meaning of the words they use, but rather play with them, +as certain so-called "learned" quadrupeds play with the printed +characters set before them. In all questions involving duty, we act from +sentiments. Religion springs from them, the family order rests upon +them, and in every community each act involving a relation between any +two of its members implies the recognition or the denial of a sentiment. +It is true that men often forget them or act against their bidding in the +keen competition of business and politics. But God has not left the hard +intellect of man to work out its devices without the constant presence of +beings with gentler and purer instincts. The breast of woman is the +ever-rocking cradle of the pure and holy sentiments which will sooner or +later steal their way into the mind of her sterner companion; which will +by and by emerge in the thoughts of the world's teachers, and at last +thunder forth in the edicts of its law-givers and masters. Woman herself +borrows half her tenderness from the sweet influences of maternity; and +childhood, that weeps at the story of suffering, that shudders at the +picture of wrong, brings down its inspiration "from God, who is our +home." To quarrel, then, with the class of minds that instinctively +attack abuses, is not only profitless but senseless; to sneer at the +sentiments which are the springs of all just and virtuous actions, is +merely a display of unthinking levity, or of want of the natural +sensibilities. + +With the hereditary character of the Southern people moving in one +direction, and the awakened conscience of the North stirring in the +other, the open conflict of opinion was inevitable, and equally +inevitable its appearance in the field of national politics. For what is +meant by self-government is, that a man shall make his convictions of +what is right and expedient regulate the community so far as his +fractional share of the government extends. If one has come to the +conclusion, be it right or wrong, that any particular institution or +statute is a violation of the sovereign law of God, it is to be expected +that he will choose to be represented by those who share his belief, and +who will in their wider sphere do all they legitimately can to get rid of +the wrong in which they find themselves and their constituents involved. +To prevent opinion from organizing itself under political forms may be +very desirable, but it is not according to the theory or practice of +self-government. And if at last organized opinions become arrayed in +hostile shape against each other, we shall find that a just war is only +the last inevitable link in a chain of closely connected impulses of +which the original source is in Him who gave to tender and humble and +uncorrupted souls the sense of right and wrong, which, after passing +through various forms, has found its final expression in the use of +material force. Behind the bayonet is the law-giver's statute, behind the +statute the thinker's argument, behind the argument is the tender +conscientiousness of woman, woman, the wife, the mother,--who looks upon +the face of God himself reflected in the unsullied soul of infancy. "Out +of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength, because +of thine enemies." + +The simplest course for the malcontent is to find fault with the order of +Nature and the Being who established it. Unless the law of moral +progress were changed, or the Governor of the Universe were dethroned, it +would be impossible to prevent a great uprising of the human conscience +against a system, the legislation relating to which, in the words of so +calm an observer as De Tocqueville, the Montesquieu of our laws, presents +"such unparalleled atrocities as to show that the laws of humanity have +been totally perverted." Until the infinite selfishness of the powers +that hate and fear the principles of free government swallowed up their +convenient virtues, that system was hissed at by all the old-world +civilization. While in one section of our land the attempt has been +going on to lift it out of the category of tolerated wrongs into the +sphere of the world's beneficent agencies, it was to be expected that the +protest of Northern manhood and womanhood would grow louder and stronger +until the conflict of principles led to the conflict of forces. The +moral uprising of the North came with the logical precision of destiny; +the rage of the "petty tyrants" was inevitable; the plot to erect a slave +empire followed with fated certainty; and the only question left for us +of the North was, whether we should suffer the cause of the Nation to go +by default, or maintain its existence by the argument of cannon and +musket, of bayonet and sabre. + +The war in which we are engaged is for no meanly ambitious or unworthy +purpose. It was primarily, and is to this moment, for the preservation +of our national existence. The first direct movement towards it was a +civil request on the part of certain Southern persons, that the Nation +would commit suicide, without making any unnecessary trouble about it. +It was answered, with sentiments of the highest consideration, that there +were constitutional and other objections to the Nation's laying violent +hands upon itself. It was then requested, in a somewhat peremptory tone, +that the Nation would be so obliging as to abstain from food until the +natural consequences of that proceeding should manifest themselves. All +this was done as between a single State and an isolated fortress; but it +was not South Carolina and Fort Sumter that were talking; it was a vast +conspiracy uttering its menace to a mighty nation; the whole menagerie of +treason was pacing its cages, ready to spring as soon as the doors were +opened; and all that the tigers of rebellion wanted to kindle their wild +natures to frenzy, was the sight of flowing blood. + +As if to show how coldly and calmly all this had been calculated +beforehand by the conspirators, to make sure that no absence of malice +aforethought should degrade the grand malignity of settled purpose into +the trivial effervescence of transient passion, the torch which was +literally to launch the first missile, figuratively, to "fire the +southern heart" and light the flame of civil war, was given into the +trembling hand of an old white-headed man, the wretched incendiary whom +history will handcuff in eternal infamy with the temple-burner of ancient +Ephesus. The first gun that spat its iron insult at Fort Sumter, smote +every loyal American full in the face. As when the foul witch used to +torture her miniature image, the person it represented suffered all that +she inflicted on his waxen counterpart, so every buffet that fell on the +smoking fortress was felt by the sovereign nation of which that was the +representative. Robbery could go no farther, for every loyal man of the +North was despoiled in that single act as much as if a footpad had laid +hands upon him to take from him his father's staff and his mother's +Bible. Insult could go no farther, for over those battered walls waved +the precious symbol of all we most value in the past and most hope for in +the future,--the banner under which we became a nation, and which, next +to the cross of the Redeemer, is the dearest object of love and honor to +all who toil or march or sail beneath its waving folds of glory. + +Let us pause for a moment to consider what might have been the course of +events if under the influence of fear, or of what some would name +humanity, or of conscientious scruples to enter upon what a few please +themselves and their rebel friends by calling a "wicked war"; if under +any or all these influences we had taken the insult and the violence of +South Carolina without accepting it as the first blow of a mortal combat, +in which we must either die or give the last and finishing stroke. + +By the same title which South Carolina asserted to Fort Sumter, Florida +would have challenged as her own the Gibraltar of the Gulf, and Virginia +the Ehrenbreitstein of the Chesapeake. Half our navy would have anchored +under the guns of these suddenly alienated fortresses, with the flag of +the rebellion flying at their peaks. "Old Ironsides" herself would have +perhaps sailed out of Annapolis harbor to have a wooden Jefferson Davis +shaped for her figure-head at Norfolk,--for Andrew Jackson was a hater of +secession, and his was no fitting effigy for the battle-ship of the +red-handed conspiracy. With all the great fortresses, with half the ships +and warlike material, in addition to all that was already stolen, in the +traitors' hands, what chance would the loyal men in the Border States +have stood against the rush of the desperate fanatics of the now +triumphant faction? Where would Maryland, Kentucky, Missouri, +Tennessee,--saved, or looking to be saved, even as it is, as by +fire,--have been in the day of trial? Into whose hands would the +Capital, the archives, the glory, the name, the very life of the nation +as a nation, have fallen, endangered as all of them were, in spite of the +volcanic outburst of the startled North which answered the roar of the +first gun at Sumter? Worse than all, are we permitted to doubt that in +the very bosom of the North itself there was a serpent, coiled but not +sleeping, which only listened for the first word that made it safe to +strike, to bury its fangs in the heart of Freedom, and blend its golden +scales in close embrace with the deadly reptile of the cotton-fields. +Who would not wish that he were wrong in such a suspicion? yet who can +forget the mysterious warnings that the allies of the rebels were to be +found far north of the fatal boundary line; and that it was in their own +streets, against their own brothers, that the champions of liberty were +to defend her sacred heritage? + +Not to have fought, then, after the supreme indignity and outrage we had +suffered, would have been to provoke every further wrong, and to furnish +the means for its commission. It would have been to placard ourselves on +the walls of the shattered fort, as the spiritless race the proud +labor-thieves called us. It would have been to die as a nation of +freemen, and to have given all we had left of our rights into the hands +of alien tyrants in league with home-bred traitors. + +Not to have fought would have been to be false to liberty everywhere, and +to humanity. You have only to see who are our friends and who are our +enemies in this struggle, to decide for what principles we are combating. +We know too well that the British aristocracy is not with us. We know +what the West End of London wishes may be result of this controversy. +The two halves of this Union are the two blades of the shears, +threatening as those of Atropos herself, which will sooner or later cut +into shreds the old charters of tyranny. How they would exult if they +could but break the rivet that makes of the two blades one resistless +weapon! The man who of all living Americans had the best opportunity of +knowing how the fact stood, wrote these words in March, 1862: "That Great +Britain did, in the most terrible moment of our domestic trial in +struggling with a monstrous social evil she had earnestly professed to +abhor, coldly and at once assume our inability to master it, and then +become the only foreign nation steadily contributing in every indirect +way possible to verify its pre-judgment, will probably be the verdict +made up against her by posterity, on a calm comparison of the evidence." + +So speaks the wise, tranquil statesman who represents the nation at the +Court of St. James, in the midst of embarrassments perhaps not less than +those which vexed his illustrious grandfather, when he occupied the same +position as the Envoy of the hated, newborn Republic. + +"It cannot be denied,"--says another observer, placed on one of our +national watch-towers in a foreign capital,--"it cannot be denied that +the tendency of European public opinion, as delivered from high places, +is more and more unfriendly to our cause"; "but the people," he adds, +"everywhere sympathize with us, for they know that our cause is that of +free institutions,--that our struggle is that of the people against an +oligarchy." These are the words of the Minister to Austria, whose +generous sympathies with popular liberty no homage paid to his genius by +the class whose admiring welcome is most seductive to scholars has ever +spoiled; our fellow-citizen, the historian of a great Republic which +infused a portion of its life into our own,--John Lothrop Motley. + +It is a bitter commentary on the effects of European, and especially of +British institutions, that such men should have to speak in such terms of +the manner in which our struggle has been regarded. We had, no doubt, +very generally reckoned on the sympathy of England, at least, in a strife +which, whatever pretexts were alleged as its cause, arrayed upon one side +the supporters of an institution she was supposed to hate in earnest, and +on the other its assailants. We had forgotten what her own poet, one of +the truest and purest of her children, had said of his countrymen, in +words which might well have been spoken by the British Premier to the +American Ambassador asking for some evidence of kind feeling on the part +of his government: + + "Alas I expect it not. We found no bait + To tempt us in thy country. Doing good, + Disinterested good, is not our trade." + +We know full well by this time what truth there is in these honest lines. +We have found out, too, who our European enemies are, and why they are +our enemies. Three bending statues bear up that gilded seat, which, in +spite of the time-hallowed usurpations and consecrated wrongs so long +associated with its history, is still venerated as the throne. One of +these supports is the pensioned church; the second is the purchased army; +the third is the long-suffering people. Whenever the third caryatid +comes to life and walks from beneath its burden, the capitals of Europe +will be filled with the broken furniture of palaces. No wonder that our +ministers find the privileged orders willing to see the ominous republic +split into two antagonistic forces, each paralyzing the other, and +standing in their mighty impotence a spectacle to courts and kings; to be +pointed at as helots who drank themselves blind and giddy out of that +broken chalice which held the poisonous draught of liberty! + +We know our enemies, and they are the enemies of popular rights. We know +our friends, and they are the foremost champions of political and social +progress. The eloquent voice and the busy pen of John Bright have both +been ours, heartily, nobly, from the first; the man of the people has +been true to the cause of the people. That deep and generous thinker, +who, more than any of her philosophical writers, represents the higher +thought of England, John Stuart Mill, has spoken for us in tones to which +none but her sordid hucksters and her selfish land-graspers can refuse to +listen. Count Gasparin and Laboulaye have sent us back the echo from +liberal France; France, the country of ideas, whose earlier inspirations +embodied themselves for us in the person of the youthful Lafayette. +Italy,--would you know on which side the rights of the people and the +hopes of the future are to be found in this momentous conflict, what +surer test, what ampler demonstration can you ask--than the eager +sympathy of the Italian patriot whose name is the hope of the toiling +many, and the dread of their oppressors, wherever it is spoken, the +heroic Garibaldi? + +But even when it is granted that the war was inevitable; when it is +granted that it is for no base end, but first for the life of the nation, +and more and more, as the quarrel deepens, for the welfare of mankind, +for knowledge as against enforced ignorance, for justice as against +oppression, for that kingdom of God on earth which neither the +unrighteous man nor the extortioner can hope to inherit, it may still be +that the strife is hopeless, and must therefore be abandoned. Is it too +much to say that whether the war is hopeless or not for the North depends +chiefly on the answer to the question, whether the North has virtue and +manhood enough to persevere in the contest so long as its resources hold +out? But how much virtue and manhood it has can never be told until they +are tried, and those who are first to doubt the prevailing existence of +these qualities are not commonly themselves patterns of either. We have +a right to trust that this people is virtuous and brave enough not to +give up a just and necessary contest before its end is attained, or shown +to be unattainable for want of material agencies. What was the end to be +attained by accepting the gage of battle? It was to get the better of +our assailants, and, having done so, to take exactly those steps which we +should then consider necessary to our present and future safety. The +more obstinate the resistance, the more completely must it be subdued. +It may not even have been desirable, as Mr. Mill suggested long since, +that the victory over the rebellion should have been easily and speedily +won, and so have failed to develop the true meaning of the conflict, to +bring out the full strength of the revolted section, and to exhaust the +means which would have served it for a still more desperate future +effort. We cannot complain that our task has proved too easy. We give +our Southern army,--for we must remember that it is our army, after all, +only in a state of mutiny,--we give our Southern army credit for +excellent spirit and perseverance in the face of many disadvantages. But +we have a few plain facts which show the probable course of events; the +gradual but sure operation of the blockade; the steady pushing back of +the boundary of rebellion, in spite of resistance at many points, or even +of such aggressive inroads as that which our armies are now meeting with +their long lines of bayonets,--may God grant them victory!--the progress +of our arms down the Mississippi; the relative value of gold and currency +at Richmond and Washington. If the index-hands of force and credit +continue to move in the ratio of the past two years, where will the +Confederacy be in twice or thrice that time? + +Either all our statements of the relative numbers, power, and wealth of +the two sections of the country signify nothing, or the resources of our +opponents in men and means must be much nearer exhaustion than our own. +The running sand of the hour-glass gives no warning, but runs as freely +as ever when its last grains are about to fall. The merchant wears as +bold a face the day before he is proclaimed a bankrupt, as he wore at the +height of his fortunes. If Colonel Grierson found the Confederacy "a +mere shell," so far as his equestrian excursion carried him, how can we +say how soon the shell will collapse? It seems impossible that our own +dissensions can produce anything more than local disturbances, like the +Morristown revolt, which Washington put down at once by the aid of his +faithful Massachusetts soldiers. But in a rebellious state dissension is +ruin, and the violence of an explosion in a strict ratio to the pressure +on every inch of the containing surface. Now we know the tremendous +force which has compelled the "unanimity" of the Southern people. There +are men in the ranks of the Southern army, if we can trust the evidence +which reaches us, who have been recruited with packs of blood-hounds, and +drilled, as it were, with halters around their necks. We know what is +the bitterness of those who have escaped this bloody harvest of the +remorseless conspirators; and from that we can judge of the elements of +destruction incorporated with many of the seemingly solid portions of the +fabric of the rebellion. The facts are necessarily few, but we can reason +from the laws of human nature as to what must be the feelings of the +people of the South to their Northern neighbors. It is impossible that +the love of the life which they have had in common, their glorious +recollections, their blended histories, their sympathies as Americans, +their mingled blood, their birthright as born under the same flag and +protected by it the world over, their worship of the same God, under the +same outward form, at least, and in the folds of the same ecclesiastical +organizations, should all be forgotten, and leave nothing but hatred and +eternal alienation. Men do not change in this way, and we may be quite +sure that the pretended unanimity of the South will some day or other +prove to have been a part of the machinery of deception which the +plotters have managed with such consummate skill. It is hardly to be +doubted that in every part of the South, as in New Orleans, in +Charleston, in Richmond, there are multitudes who wait for the day of +deliverance, and for whom the coming of "our good friends, the enemies," +as Beranger has it, will be like the advent of the angels to the +prison-cells of Paul and Silas. But there is no need of depending on the +aid of our white Southern friends, be they many or be they few; there is +material power enough in the North, if there be the will to use it, to +overrun and by degrees to recolonize the South, and it is far from +impossible that some such process may be a part of the mechanism of its +new birth, spreading from various centres of organization, on the plan +which Nature follows when she would fill a half-finished tissue with +blood-vessels or change a temporary cartilage into bone. + +Suppose, however, that the prospects of the war were, we need not say +absolutely hopeless,--because that is the unfounded hypothesis of those +whose wish is father to their thought,--but full of discouragement. Can +we make a safe and honorable peace as the quarrel now stands? As honor +comes before safety, let us look at that first. We have undertaken to +resent a supreme insult, and have had to bear new insults and +aggressions, even to the direct menace of our national capital. The +blood which our best and bravest have shed will never sink into the +ground until our wrongs are righted, or the power to right them is shown +to be insufficient. If we stop now, all the loss of life has been +butchery; if we carry out the intention with which we first resented the +outrage, the earth drinks up the blood of our martyrs, and the rose of +honor blooms forever where it was shed. To accept less than indemnity +for the past, so far as the wretched kingdom of the conspirators can +afford it, and security for the future, would discredit us in our own +eyes and in the eyes of those who hate and long to be able to despise us. +But to reward the insults and the robberies we have suffered, by the +surrender of our fortresses along the coast, in the national gulf, and on +the banks of the national river,--and this and much more would surely be +demanded of us,--would place the United Fraction of America on a level +with the Peruvian guano-islands, whose ignoble but coveted soil is open +to be plundered by all comers! + +If we could make a peace without dishonor, could we make one that would +be safe and lasting? We could have an armistice, no doubt, long enough +for the flesh of our wounded men to heal and their broken bones to knit +together. But could we expect a solid, substantial, enduring peace, in +which the grass would have time to grow in the war-paths, and the bruised +arms to rust, as the old G. R. cannon rusted in our State arsenal, +sleeping with their tompions in their mouths, like so many sucking lambs? +It is not the question whether the same set of soldiers would be again +summoned to the field. Let us take it for granted that we have seen +enough of the miseries of warfare to last us for a while, and keep us +contented with militia musters and sham-fights. The question is whether +we could leave our children and our children's children with any secure +trust that they would not have to go through the very trials we are +enduring, probably on a more extended scale and in a more aggravated +form. + +It may be well to look at the prospects before us, if a peace is +established on the basis of Southern independence, the only peace +possible, unless we choose to add ourselves to the four millions who +already call the Southern whites their masters. We know what the +prevailing--we do not mean universal--spirit and temper of those people +have been for generations, and what they are like to be after a long and +bitter warfare. We know what their tone is to the people of the North; +if we do not, De Bow and Governor Hammond are schoolmasters who will +teach us to our heart's content. We see how easily their social +organization adapts itself to a state of warfare. They breed a superior +order of men for leaders, an ignorant commonalty ready to follow them as +the vassals of feudal times followed their lords; and a race of bondsmen, +who, unless this war changes them from chattels to human beings, will +continue to add vastly to their military strength in raising their food, +in building their fortifications, in all the mechanical work of war, in +fact, except, it may be, the handling of weapons. The institution +proclaimed as the corner-stone of their government does violence not +merely to the precepts of religion, but to many of the best human +instincts, yet their fanaticism for it is as sincere as any tribe of the +desert ever manifested for the faith of the Prophet of Allah. They call +themselves by the same name as the Christians of the North, yet there is +as much difference between their Christianity and that of Wesley or of +Channing, as between creeds that in past times have vowed mutual +extermination. Still we must not call them barbarians because they +cherish an institution hostile to civilization. Their highest culture +stands out all the more brilliantly from the dark background of ignorance +against which it is seen; but it would be injustice to deny that they +have always shone in political science, or that their military capacity +makes them most formidable antagonists, and that, however inferior they +may be to their Northern fellow-countrymen in most branches of literature +and science, the social elegances and personal graces lend their outward +show to the best circles among their dominant class. + +Whom have we then for our neighbors, in case of separation,--our +neighbors along a splintered line of fracture extending for thousands of +miles,--but the Saracens of the Nineteenth Century; a fierce, intolerant, +fanatical people, the males of which will be a perpetual standing army; +hating us worse than the Southern Hamilcar taught his swarthy boy to hate +the Romans; a people whose existence as a hostile nation on our frontier +is incompatible with our peaceful development? Their wealth, the proceeds +of enforced labor, multiplied by the breaking up of new cottonfields, and +in due time by the reopening of the slave-trade, will go to purchase +arms, to construct fortresses, to fit out navies. The old Saracens, +fanatics for a religion which professed to grow by conquest, were a +nation of predatory and migrating warriors. The Southern people, +fanatics for a system essentially aggressive, conquering, wasting, which +cannot remain stationary, but must grow by alternate appropriations of +labor and of land, will come to resemble their earlier prototypes. +Already, even, the insolence of their language to the people of the North +is a close imitation of the style which those proud and arrogant Asiatics +affected toward all the nations of Europe. What the "Christian dogs" +were to the followers of Mahomet, the "accursed Yankees," the "Northern +mud-sills" are to the followers of the Southern Moloch. The +accomplishments which we find in their choicer circles were prefigured in +the court of the chivalric Saladin, and the long train of Painim knights +who rode forth to conquest under the Crescent. In all branches of +culture, their heathen predecessors went far beyond them. The schools of +mediaeval learning were filled with Arabian teachers. The heavens +declare the glory of the Oriental astronomers, as Algorab and Aldebaran +repeat their Arabic names to the students of the starry firmament. The +sumptuous edifice erected by the Art of the nineteenth century, to hold +the treasures of its Industry, could show nothing fairer than the court +which copies the Moorish palace that crowns the summit of Granada. Yet +this was the power which Charles the Hammer, striking for Christianity +and civilization, had to break like a potter's vessel; these were the +people whom Spain had to utterly extirpate from the land where they had +ruled for centuries. + +Prepare, then, if you unseal the vase which holds this dangerous Afrit of +Southern nationality, for a power on your borders that will be to you +what the Saracens were to Europe before the son of Pepin shattered their +armies, and flung the shards and shivers of their broken strength upon +the refuse heap of extinguished barbarisms. Prepare for the possible fate +of Christian Spain; for a slave-market in Philadelphia; for the Alhambra +of a Southern caliph on the grounds consecrated by the domestic virtues +of a long line of Presidents and their exemplary families. Remember the +ages of border warfare between England and Scotland, closed at last by +the union of the two kingdoms. Recollect the hunting of the deer on the +Cheviot hills, and all that it led to; then think of the game which the +dogs will follow open-mouthed across our Southern border, and all that is +like to follow which the child may rue that is unborn; think of these +possibilities, or probabilities, if you will, and say whether you are +ready to make a peace which will give you such a neighbor; which may +betray your civilization as that of half the Peninsula was given up to +the Moors; which may leave your fair border provinces to be crushed under +the heel of a tyrant, as Holland was left to be trodden down by the Duke +of Alva! + +No! no! fellow-citizens! We must fight in this quarrel until one side or +the other is exhausted. Rather than suffer all that we have poured out +of our blood, all that we have lavished of our substance, to have been +expended in vain, and to bequeath an unsettled question, an unfinished +conflict, an unavenged insult, an unrighted wrong, a stained escutcheon, +a tarnished shield, a dishonored flag, an unheroic memory to the +descendants of those who have always claimed that their fathers were +heroes; rather than do all this, it were hardly an American exaggeration +to say, better that the last man and the last dollar should be followed +by the last woman and the last dime, the last child and the last copper! + +There are those who profess to fear that our government is becoming a +mere irresponsible tyranny. If there are any who really believe that our +present Chief Magistrate means to found a dynasty for himself and family, +that a coup d'etat is in preparation by which he is to become ABRAHAM, +DEI GRATIA REX,--they cannot have duly pondered his letter of June 12th, +in which he unbosoms himself with the simplicity of a rustic lover called +upon by an anxious parent to explain his intentions. The force of his +argument is not at all injured by the homeliness of his illustrations. +The American people are not much afraid that their liberties will be +usurped. An army of legislators is not very likely to throw away its +political privileges, and the idea of a despotism resting on an open +ballot-box, is like that of Bunker Hill Monument built on the waves of +Boston Harbor. We know pretty well how much of sincerity there is in the +fears so clamorously expressed, and how far they are found in company +with uncompromising hostility to the armed enemies of the nation. We +have learned to put a true value on the services of the watch-dog who +bays the moon, but does not bite the thief! + +The men who are so busy holy-stoning the quarterdeck, while all hands are +wanted to keep the ship afloat, can no doubt show spots upon it that +would be very unsightly in fair weather. No thoroughly loyal man, +however, need suffer from any arbitrary exercise of power, such as +emergencies always give rise to. If any half-loyal man forgets his code +of half-decencies and half-duties so far as to become obnoxious to the +peremptory justice which takes the place of slower forms in all centres +of conflagration, there is no sympathy for him among the soldiers who are +risking their lives for us; perhaps there is even more satisfaction than +when an avowed traitor is caught and punished. For of all men who are +loathed by generous natures, such as fill the ranks of the armies of the +Union, none are so thoroughly loathed as the men who contrive to keep +just within the limits of the law, while their whole conduct provokes +others to break it; whose patriotism consists in stopping an inch short +of treason, and whose political morality has for its safeguard a just +respect for the jailer and the hangman! The simple preventive against +all possible injustice a citizen is like to suffer at the hands of a +government which in its need and haste must of course commit many errors, +is to take care to do nothing that will directly or indirectly help the +enemy, or hinder the government in carrying on the war. When the clamor +against usurpation and tyranny comes from citizens who can claim this +negative merit, it may be listened to. When it comes from those who have +done what they could to serve their country, it will receive the +attention it deserves. Doubtless there may prove to be wrongs which +demand righting, but the pretence of any plan for changing the essential +principle of our self-governing system is a figment which its contrivers +laugh over among themselves. Do the citizens of Harrisburg or of +Philadelphia quarrel to-day about the strict legality of an executive act +meant in good faith for their protection against the invader? We are all +citizens of Harrisburg, all citizens of Philadelphia, in this hour of +their peril, and with the enemy at work in our own harbors, we begin to +understand the difference between a good and bad citizen; the man that +helps and the man that hinders; the man who, while the pirate is in +sight, complains that our anchor is dragging in his mud, and the man who +violates the proprieties, like our brave Portland brothers, when they +jumped on board the first steamer they could reach, cut her cable, and +bore down on the corsair, with a habeas corpus act that lodged twenty +buccaneers in Fort Preble before sunset! + +We cannot, then, we cannot be circling inward to be swallowed up in the +whirlpool of national destruction. If our borders are invaded, it is +only as the spur that is driven into the courser's flank to rouse his +slumbering mettle. If our property is taxed, it is only to teach us that +liberty is worth paying for as well as fighting for. We are pouring out +the most generous blood of our youth and manhood; alas! this is always +the price that must be paid for the redemption of a people. What have we +to complain of, whose granaries are choking with plenty, whose streets +are gay with shining robes and glittering equipages, whose industry is +abundant enough to reap all its overflowing harvest, yet sure of +employment and of its just reward, the soil of whose mighty valleys is an +inexhaustible mine of fertility, whose mountains cover up such stores of +heat and power, imprisoned in their coal measures, as would warm all the +inhabitants and work all the machinery of our planet for unnumbered ages, +whose rocks pour out rivers of oil, whose streams run yellow over beds of +golden sand,--what have we to complain of? + +Have we degenerated from our English fathers, so that we cannot do and +bear for our national salvation what they have done and borne over and +over again for their form of government? Could England, in her wars with +Napoleon, bear an income-tax of ten per cent., and must we faint under +the burden of an income-tax of three per cent.? Was she content to +negotiate a loan at fifty-three for the hundred, and that paid in +depreciated paper, and can we talk about financial ruin with our national +stocks ranging from one to eight or nine above par, and the "five-twenty" +war loan eagerly taken by our own people to the amount of nearly two +hundred millions, without any check to the flow of the current pressing +inwards against the doors of the Treasury? Except in those portions of +the country which are the immediate seat of war, or liable to be made so, +and which, having the greatest interest not to become the border states +of hostile nations, can best afford to suffer now, the state of +prosperity and comfort is such as to astonish those who visit us from +other countries. What are war taxes to a nation which, as we are assured +on good authority, has more men worth a million now than it had worth ten +thousand dollars at the close of the Revolution,--whose whole property is +a hundred times, and whose commerce, inland and foreign, is five hundred +times, what it was then? But we need not study Mr. Still's pamphlet and +"Thompson's Bank-Note Reporter" to show us what we know well enough, +that, so far from having occasion to tremble in fear of our impending +ruin, we must rather blush for our material prosperity. For the +multitudes who are unfortunate enough to be taxed for a million or more, +of course we must feel deeply, at the same time suggesting that the more +largely they report their incomes to the tax-gatherer, the more +consolation they will find in the feeling that they have served their +country. But,--let us say it plainly,--it will not hurt our people to be +taught that there are other things to be cared for besides money-making +and money-spending; that the time has come when manhood must assert +itself by brave deeds and noble thoughts; when womanhood must assume its +most sacred office, "to warn, to comfort," and, if need be, "to command," +those whose services their country calls for. This Northern section of +the land has become a great variety shop, of which the Atlantic cities +are the long-extended counter. We have grown rich for what? To put gilt +bands on coachmen's hats? To sweep the foul sidewalks with the heaviest +silks which the toiling artisans of France can send us? To look through +plate-glass windows, and pity the brown soldiers,--or sneer at the black +ones? to reduce the speed of trotting horses a second or two below its +old minimum? to color meerschaums? to flaunt in laces, and sparkle in +diamonds? to dredge our maidens' hair with gold-dust? to float through +life, the passive shuttlecocks of fashion, from the avenues to the +beaches, and back again from the beaches to the avenues? Was it for this +that the broad domain of the Western hemisphere was kept so long +unvisited by civilization?--for this, that Time, the father of empires, +unbound the virgin zone of this youngest of his daughters, and gave her, +beautiful in the long veil of her forests, to the rude embrace of the +adventurous Colonist? All this is what we see around us, now, now while +we are actually fighting this great battle, and supporting this great +load of indebtedness. Wait till the diamonds go back to the Jews of +Amsterdam; till the plate-glass window bears the fatal announcement, For +Sale or to Let; till the voice of our Miriam is obeyed, as she sings, + + "Weave no more silks, ye Lyons looms!" + +till the gold-dust is combed from the golden locks, and hoarded to buy +bread; till the fast-driving youth smokes his clay-pipe on the platform +of the horse-cars; till the music-grinders cease because none will pay +them; till there are no peaches in the windows at twenty-four dollars a +dozen, and no heaps of bananas and pine-apples selling at the +street-corners; till the ten-flounced dress has but three flounces, and +it is felony to drink champagne; wait till these changes show themselves, +the signs of deeper wants, the preludes of exhaustion and bankruptcy; +then let us talk of the Maelstrom;--but till then, let us not be cowards +with our purses, while brave men are emptying their hearts upon the earth +for us; let us not whine over our imaginary ruin, while the reversed +current of circling events is carrying us farther and farther, every +hour, out of the influence of the great failing which was born of our +wealth, and of the deadly sin which was our fatal inheritance! + +Let us take a brief general glance at the wide field of discussion we are +just leaving. + +On Friday, the twelfth day of the month of April, in the year of our Lord +eighteen hundred and sixty-one, at half-past four of the clock in the +morning, a cannon was aimed and fired by the authority of South Carolina +at the wall of a fortress belonging to the United States. Its ball +carried with it the hatreds, the rages of thirty years, shaped and cooled +in the mould of malignant deliberation. Its wad was the charter of our +national existence. Its muzzle was pointed at the stone which bore the +symbol of our national sovereignty. As the echoes of its thunder died +away, the telegraph clicked one word through every office of the land. +That word was WAR! + +War is a child that devours its nurses one after another, until it is +claimed by its true parents. This war has eaten its way backward through +all the technicalities of lawyers learned in the infinitesimals of +ordinances and statutes; through all the casuistries of divines, experts +in the differential calculus of conscience and duty; until it stands +revealed to all men as the natural and inevitable conflict of two +incompatible forms of civilization, one or the other of which must +dominate the central zone of the continent, and eventually claim the +hemisphere for its development. + +We have reached the region of those broad principles and large axioms +which the wise Romans, the world's lawgivers, always recognized as above +all special enactments. We have come to that solid substratum +acknowledged by Grotius in his great Treatise: "Necessity itself which +reduces things to the mere right of Nature." The old rules which were +enough for our guidance in quiet times, have become as meaningless "as +moonlight on the dial of the day." We have followed precedents as long +as they could guide us; now we must make precedents for the ages which +are to succeed us. + +If we are frightened from our object by the money we have spent, the +current prices of United States stocks show that we value our nationality +at only a small fraction of our wealth. If we feel that we are paying +too dearly for it in the blood of our people, let us recall those grand +words of Samuel Adams: + +"I should advise persisting in our struggle for liberty, though it were +revealed from heaven that nine hundred and ninety-nine were to perish, +and only one of a thousand were to survive and retain his liberty!" + +What we want now is a strong purpose; the purpose of Luther, when he +said, in repeating his Pater Noster, fiat voluntas MEA,--let my will be +done; though he considerately added, quia Tua,--because my will is Thine. +We want the virile energy of determination which made the oath of Andrew +Jackson sound so like the devotion of an ardent saint that the recording +angel might have entered it unquestioned among the prayers of the +faithful. + +War is a grim business. Two years ago our women's fingers were busy +making "Havelocks." It seemed to us then as if the Havelock made half +the soldier; and now we smile to think of those days of inexperience and +illusion. We know now what War means, and we cannot look its dull, dead +ghastliness in the face unless we feel that there is some great and noble +principle behind it. It makes little difference what we thought we were +fighting for at first; we know what we are fighting for now, and what we +are fighting against. + +We are fighting for our existence. We say to those who would take back +their several contributions to that undivided unity which we call the +Nation; the bronze is cast; the statue is on its pedestal; you cannot +reclaim the brass you flung into the crucible! There are rights, +possessions, privileges, policies, relations, duties, acquired, retained, +called into existence in virtue of the principle of absolute +solidarity,--belonging to the United States as an organic whole, which +cannot be divided, which none of its constituent parties can claim as its +own, which perish out of its living frame when the wild forces of +rebellion tear it limb from limb, and which it must defend, or confess +self-government itself a failure. + +We are fighting for that Constitution upon which our national existence +reposes, now subjected by those who fired the scroll on which it was +written from the cannon at Fort Sumter, to all those chances which the +necessities of war entail upon every human arrangement, but still the +venerable charter of our wide Republic. + +We cannot fight for these objects without attacking the one mother cause +of all the progeny of lesser antagonisms. Whether we know it or not, +whether we mean it or not, we cannot help fighting against the system +that has proved the source of all those miseries which the author of the +Declaration of Independence trembled to anticipate. And this ought to +make us willing to do and to suffer cheerfully. There were Holy Wars of +old, in which it was glory enough to die, wars in which the one aim was +to rescue the sepulchre of Christ from the hands of infidels. The +sepulchre of Christ is not in Palestine! He rose from that burial-place +more than eighteen hundred years ago. He is crucified wherever his +brothers are slain without cause; he lies buried wherever man, made in +his Maker's image, is entombed in ignorance lest he should learn the +rights which his Divine Master gave him! This is our Holy War, and we +must fight it against that great General who will bring to it all the +powers with which he fought against the Almighty before he was cast down +from heaven. He has retained many a cunning advocate to recruit for him; +he has bribed many a smooth-tongued preacher to be his chaplain; he has +engaged the sordid by their avarice, the timid by their fears, the +profligate by their love of adventure, and thousands of nobler natures by +motives which we can all understand; whose delusion we pity as we ought +always to pity the error of those who know not what they do. Against him +or for him we are all called upon to declare ourselves. There is no +neutrality for any single true-born American. If any seek such a +position, the stony finger of Dante's awful muse points them to their +place in the antechamber of the Halls of Despair,-- + + "--With that ill band + Of angels mixed, who nor rebellious proved, + Nor yet were true to God, but for themselves + Were only." + + "--Fame of them the world hath none + Nor suffers; mercy and justice scorn them both. + Speak not of them, but look, and pass them by." + +We must use all the means which God has put into our hands to serve him +against the enemies of civilization. We must make and keep the great +river free, whatever it costs us; it is strapping up the forefoot of the +wild, untamable rebellion. We must not be too nice in the choice of our +agents. Non eget Mauri jaculis,--no African bayonets wanted,--was well +enough while we did not yet know the might of that desperate giant we had +to deal with; but Tros, Tyriusve,--white or black,--is the safer motto +now; for a good soldier, like a good horse, cannot be of a bad color. +The iron-skins, as well as the iron-clads, have already done us noble +service, and many a mother will clasp the returning boy, many a wife will +welcome back the war-worn husband, whose smile would never again have +gladdened his home, but that, cold in the shallow trench of the +battle-field, lies the half-buried form of the unchained bondsman whose +dusky bosom sheathes the bullet which would else have claimed that +darling as his country's sacrifice. + +We shall have success if we truly will success, not otherwise. It may be +long in coming,--Heaven only knows through what trials and humblings we +may have to pass before the full strength of the nation is duly arrayed +and led to victory. We must be patient, as our fathers were patient; +even in our worst calamities, we must remember that defeat itself may be +a gain where it costs our enemy more in relation to his strength than it +costs ourselves. But if, in the inscrutable providence of the Almighty, +this generation is disappointed in its lofty aspirations for the race, if +we have not virtue enough to ennoble our whole people, and make it a +nation of sovereigns, we shall at least hold in undying honor those who +vindicated the insulted majesty of the Republic, and struck at her +assailants so long as a drum-beat summoned them to the field of duty. + +Citizens of Boston, sons and daughters of New England, men and women of +the North, brothers and sisters in the bond of the American Union, you +have among you the scarred and wasted soldiers who have shed their blood +for your temporal salvation. They bore your nation's emblems bravely +through the fire and smoke of the battle-field; nay, their own bodies are +starred with bullet-wounds and striped with sabre-cuts, as if to mark +them as belonging to their country until their dust becomes a portion of +the soil which they defended. In every Northern graveyard slumber the +victims of this destroying struggle. Many whom you remember playing as +children amidst the clover-blossoms of our Northern fields, sleep under +nameless mounds with strange Southern wild-flowers blooming over them. +By those wounds of living heroes, by those graves of fallen martyrs, by +the hopes of your children, and the claims of your children's children +yet unborn, in the name of outraged honor, in the interest of violated +sovereignty, for the life of an imperilled nation, for the sake of men +everywhere and of our common humanity, for the glory of God and the +advancement of his kingdom on earth, your country calls upon you to stand +by her through good report and through evil report, in triumph and in +defeat, until she emerges from the great war of Western civilization, +Queen of the broad continent, Arbitress in the councils of earth's +emancipated peoples; until the flag that fell from the wall of Fort +Sumter floats again inviolate, supreme, over all her ancient inheritance, +every fortress, every capital, every ship, and this warring land is once +more a, United Nation! + + + + +CINDERS FROM THE ASHES. + +The personal revelations contained in my report of certain +breakfast-table conversations were so charitably listened to and so +good-naturedly interpreted, that I may be in danger of becoming +over-communicative. Still, I should never have ventured to tell the +trivial experiences here thrown together, were it not that my brief +story is illuminated here and there by a glimpse of some shining +figure that trod the same path with me for a time, or crossed it, +leaving a momentary or lasting brightness in its track. I remember +that, in furnishing a chamber some years ago, I was struck with its +dull aspect as I looked round on the black-walnut chairs and bedstead +and bureau. "Make me a large and handsomely wrought gilded handle to +the key of that dark chest of drawers," I said to the furnisher. It +was done, and that one luminous point redeemed the sombre apartment +as the evening star glorifies the dusky firmament. So, my loving +reader,--and to none other can such table-talk as this be addressed, +--I hope there will be lustre enough in one or other of the names with +which I shall gild my page to redeem the dulness of all that is +merely personal in my recollections. + +After leaving the school of Dame Prentiss, best remembered by infantine +loves, those pretty preludes of more serious passions; by the great +forfeit-basket, filled with its miscellaneous waifs and deodauds, and by +the long willow stick by the aid of which the good old body, now stricken +in years and unwieldy in person could stimulate the sluggish faculties or +check the mischievous sallies of the child most distant from his ample +chair,--a school where I think my most noted schoolmate was the present +Bishop of Delaware, became the pupil of Master William Biglow. This +generation is not familiar with his title to renown, although he fills +three columns and a half in Mr. Duyckinck's "Cyclopaedia of American +Literature." He was a humorist hardly robust enough for more than a +brief local immortality. I am afraid we were an undistinguished set, for +I do not remember anybody near a bishop in dignity graduating from our +benches. + +At about ten years of age I began going to what we always called the +"Port School," because it was kept at Cambridgeport, a mile from the +College. This suburb was at that time thinly inhabited, and, being much +of it marshy and imperfectly reclaimed, had a dreary look as compared +with the thriving College settlement. The tenants of the many beautiful +mansions that have sprung up along Main Street, Harvard Street, and +Broadway can hardly recall the time when, except the "Dana House" and the +"Opposition House" and the "Clark House," these roads were almost all the +way bordered by pastures until we reached the "stores" of Main Street, or +were abreast of that forlorn "First Row" of Harvard Street. We called +the boys of that locality "Port-chucks." They called us +"Cambridge-chucks," but we got along very well together in the main. + +Among my schoolmates at the Port School was a young girl of singular +loveliness. I once before referred to her as "the golden blonde," but did +not trust myself to describe her charms. The day of her appearance in +the school was almost as much a revelation to us boys as the appearance +of Miranda was to Caliban. Her abounding natural curls were so full of +sunshine, her skin was so delicately white, her smile and her voice were +so all-subduing, that half our heads were turned. Her fascinations were +everywhere confessed a few years afterwards; and when I last met her, +though she said she was a grandmother, I questioned her statement, for +her winning looks and ways would still have made her admired in any +company. + +Not far from the golden blonde were two small boys, one of them very +small, perhaps the youngest boy in school, both ruddy, sturdy, quiet, +reserved, sticking loyally by each other, the oldest, however, beginning +to enter into social relations with us of somewhat maturer years. One of +these two boys was destined to be widely known, first in literature, as +author of one of the most popular books of its time and which is +freighted for a long voyage; then as an eminent lawyer; a man who, if his +countrymen are wise, will yet be prominent in the national councils. +Richard Henry Dana, Junior, is the name he bore and bears; he found it +famous, and will bequeath it a fresh renown. + +Sitting on the girls' benches, conspicuous among the school-girls of +unlettered origin by that look which rarely fails to betray hereditary +and congenital culture, was a young person very nearly of my own age. +She came with the reputation of being "smart," as we should have called +it, clever as we say nowadays. This was Margaret Fuller, the only one +among us who, like "Jean Paul," like "The Duke," like "Bettina," has +slipped the cable of the more distinctive name to which she was anchored, +and floats on the waves of speech as "Margaret." Her air to her +schoolmates was marked by a certain stateliness and distance, as if she +had other thoughts than theirs and was not of them. She was a great +student and a great reader of what she used to call "naw-vels." I +remember her so well as she appeared at school and later, that I regret +that she had not been faithfully given to canvas or marble in the day of +her best looks. None know her aspect who have not seen her living. +Margaret, as I remember her at school and afterwards, was tall, fair +complexioned, with a watery, aqua-marine lustre in her light eyes, which +she used to make small, as one does who looks at the sunshine. A +remarkable point about her was that long, flexile neck, arching and +undulating in strange sinuous movements, which one who loved her would +compare to those of a swan, and one who loved her not to those of the +ophidian who tempted our common mother. Her talk was affluent, +magisterial, de haut en bas, some would say euphuistic, but surpassing +the talk of women in breadth and audacity. Her face kindled and reddened +and dilated in every feature as she spoke, and, as I once saw her in a +fine storm of indignation at the supposed ill-treatment of a relative, +showed itself capable of something resembling what Milton calls the +viraginian aspect. + +Little incidents bear telling when they recall anything of such a +celebrity as Margaret. I remember being greatly awed once, in our +school-days, with the maturity of one of her expressions. Some themes +were brought home from the school for examination by my father, among +them one of hers. I took it up with a certain emulous interest (for I +fancied at that day that I too had drawn a prize, say a five-dollar one, +at least, in the great intellectual life-lottery) and read the first +words. + +"It is a trite remark," she began. + +I stopped. Alas! I did not know what trite meant. How could I ever +judge Margaret fairly after such a crushing discovery of her superiority? +I doubt if I ever did; yet oh, how pleasant it would have been, at about +the age, say, of threescore and ten, to rake over these ashes for cinders +with her,--she in a snowy cap, and I in a decent peruke! + +After being five years at the Port School, the time drew near when I was +to enter college. It seemed advisable to give me a year of higher +training, and for that end some public school was thought to offer +advantages. Phillips Academy at Andover was well known to us. We had +been up there, my father and myself, at anniversaries. Some Boston boys +of well-known and distinguished parentage had been scholars there very +lately, Master Edmund Quincy, Master Samuel Hurd Walley, Master Nathaniel +Parker Willis,--all promising youth, who fulfilled their promise. + +I do not believe there was any thought of getting a little respite of +quiet by my temporary absence, but I have wondered that there was not. +Exceptional boys of fourteen or fifteen make home a heaven, it is true; +but I have suspected, late in life, that I was not one of the exceptional +kind. I had tendencies in the direction of flageolets and octave flutes. +I had a pistol and a gun, and popped at everything that stirred, pretty +nearly, except the house-cat. Worse than this, I would buy a cigar and +smoke it by instalments, putting it meantime in the barrel of my pistol, +by a stroke of ingenuity which it gives me a grim pleasure to recall; for +no maternal or other female eyes would explore the cavity of that dread +implement in search of contraband commodities. + +It was settled, then, that I should go to Phillips Academy, and +preparations were made that I might join the school at the beginning of +the autumn. + +In due time I took my departure in the old carriage, a little modernized +from the pattern of my Lady Bountiful's, and we jogged soberly +along,--kind parents and slightly nostalgic boy,--towards the seat of +learning, some twenty miles away. Up the old West Cambridge road, now +North Avenue; past Davenport's tavern, with its sheltering tree and +swinging sign; past the old powder-house, looking like a colossal conical +ball set on end; past the old Tidd House, one of the finest of the +ante-Revolutionary mansions; past Miss Swan's great square +boarding-school, where the music of girlish laughter was ringing through +the windy corridors; so on to Stoneham, town of the bright lake, then +darkened with the recent memory of the barbarous murder done by its +lonely shore; through pleasant Reading, with its oddly named village +centres, "Trapelo," "Read'nwoodeend," as rustic speech had it, and the +rest; through Wilmington, then renowned for its hops; so at last into the +hallowed borders of the academic town. + +It was a shallow, two-story white house before which we stopped, just at +the entrance of the central village, the residence of a very worthy +professor in the theological seminary,--learned, amiable, exemplary, but +thought by certain experts to be a little questionable in the matter of +homoousianism, or some such doctrine. There was a great rock that showed +its round back in the narrow front yard. It looked cold and hard; but it +hinted firmness and indifference to the sentiments fast struggling to get +uppermost in my youthful bosom; for I was not too old for +home-sickness,--who is: The carriage and my fond companions had to leave +me at last. I saw it go down the declivity that sloped southward, then +climb the next ascent, then sink gradually until the window in the back +of it disappeared like an eye that shuts, and leaves the world dark to +some widowed heart. + +Sea-sickness and home-sickness are hard to deal with by any remedy but +time. Mine was not a bad case, but it excited sympathy. There was an +ancient, faded old lady in the house, very kindly, but very deaf, +rustling about in dark autumnal foliage of silk or other murmurous +fabric, somewhat given to snuff, but a very worthy gentlewoman of the +poor-relation variety. She comforted me, I well remember, but not with +apples, and stayed me, but not with flagons. She went in her benevolence, +and, taking a blue and white soda-powder, mingled the same in water, and +encouraged me to drink the result. It might be a specific for +seasickness, but it was not for home-sickness. The fiz was a mockery, +and the saline refrigerant struck a colder chill to my despondent heart. +I did not disgrace myself, however, and a few days cured me, as a week on +the water often cures seasickness. + +There was a sober-faced boy of minute dimensions in the house, who began +to make some advances to me, and who, in spite of all the conditions +surrounding him, turned out, on better acquaintance, to be one of the +most amusing, free-spoken, mocking little imps I ever met in my life. My +room-mate came later. He was the son of a clergyman in a neighboring +town,--in fact I may remark that I knew a good many clergymen's sons at +Andover. He and I went in harness together as well as most boys do, I +suspect; and I have no grudge against him, except that once, when I was +slightly indisposed, he administered to me,--with the best intentions, no +doubt,--a dose of Indian pills, which effectually knocked me out of time, +as Mr. Morrissey would say,--not quite into eternity, but so near it +that I perfectly remember one of the good ladies told me (after I had +come to my senses a little, and was just ready for a sip of cordial and a +word of encouragement), with that delightful plainness of speech which so +brings realities home to the imagination, that "I never should look any +whiter when I was laid out as a corpse." After my room-mate and I had +been separated twenty-five years, fate made us fellow-townsmen and +acquaintances once more in Berkshire, and now again we are close literary +neighbors; for I have just read a very pleasant article, signed by him, +in the last number of the "Galaxy." Does it not sometimes seem as if we +were all marching round and round in a circle, like the supernumeraries +who constitute the "army" of a theatre, and that each of us meets and is +met by the same and only the same people, or their doubles, twice, +thrice, or a little oftener, before the curtain drops and the "army" puts +off its borrowed clothes? + +The old Academy building had a dreary look, with its flat face, bare and +uninteresting as our own "University Building" at Cambridge, since the +piazza which relieved its monotony was taken away, and, to balance the +ugliness thus produced, the hideous projection was added to "Harvard +Hall." Two masters sat at the end of the great room,--the principal and +his assistant. Two others presided in separate rooms, one of them the +late Rev. Samuel Horatio Stearns, an excellent and lovable man, who +looked kindly on me, and for whom I always cherished a sincere regard, a +clergyman's son, too, which privilege I did not always find the warrant +of signal virtues; but no matter about that here, and I have promised +myself to be amiable. + +On the side of the long room was a large clock-dial, bearing these words: + + YOUTH IS THE SEED-TIME OF LIFE. + +I had indulged in a prejudice, up to that hour, that youth was the +budding time of life, and this clock-dial, perpetually twitting me with +its seedy moral, always had a forbidding look to my vernal apprehension. + +I was put into a seat with an older and much bigger boy, or youth, with a +fuliginous complexion, a dilating and whitening nostril, and a singularly +malignant scowl. Many years afterwards he committed an act of murderous +violence, and ended by going to finish his days in a madhouse. His +delight was to kick my shins with all his might, under the desk, not at +all as an act of hostility, but as a gratifying and harmless pastime. +Finding this, so far as I was concerned, equally devoid of pleasure and +profit, I managed to get a seat by another boy, the son of a very +distinguished divine. He was bright enough, and more select in his +choice of recreations, at least during school hours, than my late +homicidal neighbor. But the principal called me up presently, and +cautioned me against him as a dangerous companion. Could it be so? If +the son of that boy's father could not be trusted, what boy in +Christendom could? It seemed like the story of the youth doomed to be +slain by a lion before reaching a certain age, and whose fate found him +out in the heart of the tower where his father had shut him up for +safety. Here was I, in the very dove's nest of Puritan faith, and out of +one of its eggs a serpent had been hatched and was trying to nestle in my +bosom! I parted from him, however, none the worse for his companionship +so far as I can remember. + +Of the boys who were at school with me at Andover one has acquired great +distinction among the scholars of the land. One day I observed a new boy +in a seat not very far from my own. He was a little fellow, as I +recollect him, with black hair and very bright black eyes, when at length +I got a chance to look at them. Of all the new-comers during my whole +year he was the only one whom the first glance fixed in my memory, but +there he is now, at this moment, just as he caught my eye on the morning +of his entrance. His head was between his hands (I wonder if he does not +sometimes study in that same posture nowadays!) and his eyes were +fastened to his book as if he had been reading a will that made him heir +to a million. I feel sure that Professor Horatio Balch Hackett will not +find fault with me for writing his name under this inoffensive portrait. +Thousands of faces and forms that I have known more or less familiarly +have faded from my remembrance, but this presentment of the youthful +student, sitting there entranced over the page of his text-book,--the +child-father of the distinguished scholar that was to be,--is not a +picture framed and hung up in my mind's gallery, but a fresco on its +walls, there to remain so long as they hold together. + +My especial intimate was a fine, rosy-faced boy, not quite so free of +speech as myself, perhaps, but with qualities that promised a noble +manhood, and ripened into it in due season. His name was Phinehas +Barnes, and, if he is inquired after in Portland or anywhere in the State +of Maine, something will be heard to his advantage from any honest and +intelligent citizen of that Commonwealth who answers the question. This +was one of two or three friendships that lasted. There were other friends +and classmates, one of them a natural humorist of the liveliest sort, who +would have been quarantined in any Puritan port, his laugh was so +potently contagious. + +Of the noted men of Andover the one whom I remember best was Professor +Moses Stuart. His house was nearly opposite the one in which I resided +and I often met him and listened to him in the chapel of the Seminary. I +have seen few more striking figures in my life than his, as I remember +it. Tall, lean, with strong, bold features, a keen, scholarly, +accipitrine nose, thin, expressive lips, great solemnity and +impressiveness of voice and manner, he was my early model of a classic +orator. His air was Roman, his neck long and bare like Cicero's, and his +toga,--that is his broadcloth cloak,--was carried on his arm, whatever +might have been the weather, with such a statue-like rigid grace that he +might have been turned into marble as he stood, and looked noble by the +side of the antiques of the Vatican. + +Dr. Porter was an invalid, with the prophetic handkerchief bundling his +throat, and his face "festooned"--as I heard Hillard say once, speaking +of one of our College professors--in folds and wrinkles. Ill health gives +a certain common character to all faces, as Nature has a fixed course +which she follows in dismantling a human countenance: the noblest and the +fairest is but a death's-head decently covered over for the transient +ceremony of life, and the drapery often falls half off before the +procession has passed. + +Dr. Woods looked his creed more decidedly, perhaps, than any of the +Professors. He had the firm fibre of a theological athlete, and lived to +be old without ever mellowing, I think, into a kind of half-heterodoxy, +as old ministers of stern creed are said to do now and then,--just as old +doctors grow to be sparing of the more exasperating drugs in their later +days. He had manipulated the mysteries of the Infinite so long and so +exhaustively, that he would have seemed more at home among the mediaeval +schoolmen than amidst the working clergy of our own time. + +All schools have their great men, for whose advent into life the world is +waiting in dumb expectancy. In due time the world seizes upon these +wondrous youth, opens the shell of their possibilities like the valves of +an oyster, swallows them at a gulp, and they are for the most part heard +of no more. We had two great men, grown up both of them. Which was the +more awful intellectual power to be launched upon society, we debated. +Time cut the knot in his rude fashion by taking one away early, and +padding the other with prosperity so that his course was comparatively +noiseless and ineffective. We had our societies, too; one in particular, +"The Social Fraternity," the dread secrets of which I am under a lifelong +obligation never to reveal. The fate of William Morgan, which the +community learned not long after this time, reminds me of the danger of +the ground upon which I am treading. + +There were various distractions to make the time not passed in study a +season of relief. One good lady, I was told, was in the habit of asking +students to her house on Saturday afternoons and praying with and for +them. Bodily exercise was not, however, entirely superseded by spiritual +exercises, and a rudimentary form of base-ball and the heroic sport of +football were followed with some spirit. + +A slight immature boy finds his materials of though and enjoyment in very +shallow and simple sources. Yet a kind of romance gilds for me the sober +tableland of that cold New England hill where I came in contact with a +world so strange to me, and destined to leave such mingled and lasting +impressions. I looked across the valley to the hillside where Methuen +hung suspended, and dreamed of its wooded seclusion as a village +paradise. I tripped lightly down the long northern slope with facilis +descensus on my lips, and toiled up again, repeating sed revocare gradum. +I wandered' in the autumnal woods that crown the "Indian Ridge," much +wondering at that vast embankment, which we young philosophers believed +with the vulgar to be of aboriginal workmanship, not less curious, +perhaps, since we call it an escar, and refer it to alluvial agencies. +The little Shawshine was our swimming-school, and the great Merrimack, +the right arm of four toiling cities, was within reach of a morning +stroll. At home we had the small imp to make us laugh at his enormities, +for he spared nothing in his talk, and was the drollest little living +protest against the prevailing solemnities of the locality. It did not +take much to please us, I suspect, and it is a blessing that this is apt +to be so with young people. What else could have made us think it great +sport to leave our warm beds in the middle of winter and "camp out,"--on +the floor of our room,--with blankets disposed tent-wise, except the fact +that to a boy a new discomfort in place of an old comfort is often a +luxury. + +More exciting occupation than any of these was to watch one of the +preceptors to see if he would not drop dead while he was praying. He had +a dream one night that he should, and looked upon it as a warning, and +told it round very seriously, and asked the boys to come and visit him in +turn, as one whom they were soon to lose. More than one boy kept his eye +on him during his public devotions, possessed by the same feeling the man +had who followed Van Amburgh about with the expectation, let us not say +the hope, of seeing the lion bite his head off sooner or later. + +Let me not forget to recall the interesting visit to Haverhill with my +room-mate, and how he led me to the mighty bridge over the Merrimack +which defied the ice-rafts of the river; and to the old meetinghouse, +where, in its porch, I saw the door of the ancient parsonage, with the +bullet-hole in it through which Benjamin Rolfe, the minister, was shot by +the Indians on the 29th of August, 1708. What a vision it was when I +awoke in the morning to see the fog on the river seeming as if it wrapped +the towers and spires of a great city!--for such was my fancy, and +whether it was a mirage of youth or a fantastic natural effect I hate to +inquire too nicely. + +My literary performances at Andover, if any reader who may have survived +so far cares to know, included a translation from Virgil, out of which I +remember this couplet, which had the inevitable cockney rhyme of +beginners: + + "Thus by the power of Jove's imperial arm + The boiling ocean trembled into calm." + +Also a discussion with Master Phinehas Barnes on the case of Mary, Queen +of Scots, which he treated argumentatively and I rhetorically and +sentimentally. My sentences were praised and his conclusions adopted. +Also an Essay, spoken at the great final exhibition, held in the large +hall up-stairs, which hangs oddly enough from the roof, suspended by iron +rods. Subject, Fancy. Treatment, brief but comprehensive, illustrating +the magic power of that brilliant faculty in charming life into +forgetfulness of all the ills that flesh is heir to,--the gift of Heaven +to every condition and every clime, from the captive in his dungeon to +the monarch on his throne; from the burning sands of the desert to the +frozen icebergs of the poles, from--but I forget myself. + +This was the last of my coruscations at Andover. I went from the Academy +to Harvard College, and did not visit the sacred hill again for a long +time. + +On the last day of August, 1867, not having been at Andover, for many +years, I took the cars at noon, and in an hour or a little more found +myself at the station,--just at the foot of the hill. My first +pilgrimage was to the old elm, which I remembered so well as standing by +the tavern, and of which they used to tell the story that it held, buried +in it by growth, the iron rings put round it in the old time to keep the +Indians from chopping it with their tomahawks. I then began the once +familiar toil of ascending the long declivity. Academic villages seem to +change very slowly. Once in a hundred years the library burns down with +all its books. A new edifice or two may be put up, and a new library +begun in the course of the same century; but these places are poor, for +the most part, and cannot afford to pull down their old barracks. + +These sentimental journeys to old haunts must be made alone. The story +of them must be told succinctly. It is like the opium-smoker's showing +you the pipe from which he has just inhaled elysian bliss, empty of the +precious extract which has given him his dream. + +I did not care much for the new Academy building on my right, nor for the +new library building on my left. But for these it was surprising to see +how little the scene I remembered in my boyhood had changed. The +Professors' houses looked just as they used to, and the stage-coach +landed its passengers at the Mansion House as of old. The pale brick +seminary buildings were behind me on the left, looking as if "Hollis" and +"Stoughton" had been transplanted from Cambridge,--carried there in the +night by orthodox angels, perhaps, like the Santa Casa. Away to my left +again, but abreast of me, was the bleak, bare old Academy building; and +in front of me stood unchanged the shallow oblong white house where I +lived a year in the days of James Monroe and of John Quincy Adams. + +The ghost of a boy was at my side as I wandered among the places he knew +so well. I went to the front of the house. There was the great rock +showing its broad back in the front yard. I used to crack nuts on that, +whispered the small ghost. I looked in at the upper window in the +farther part of the house. I looked out of that on four long changing +seasons, said the ghost. I should have liked to explore farther, but, +while I was looking, one came into the small garden, or what used to be +the garden, in front of the house, and I desisted from my investigation +and went on my way. The apparition that put me and my little ghost to +flight had a dressing-gown on its person and a gun in its hand. I think +it was the dressing-gown, and not the gun, which drove me off. + +And now here is the shop, or store, that used to be Shipman's, after +passing what I think used to be Jonathan Leavitt's bookbindery, and here +is the back road that will lead me round by the old Academy building. + +Could I believe my senses when I found that it was turned into a +gymnasium, and heard the low thunder of ninepin balls, and the crash of +tumbling pins from those precincts? The little ghost said, Never! It +cannot be. But it was. "Have they a billiard-room in the upper story?" +I asked myself. "Do the theological professors take a hand at all-fours +or poker on weekdays, now and then, and read the secular columns of the +'Boston Recorder' on Sundays?" I was demoralized for the moment, it is +plain; but now that I have recovered from the shock, I must say that the +fact mentioned seems to show a great advance in common sense from the +notions prevailing in my time. + +I sauntered,--we, rather, my ghost and I,--until we came to a broken +field where there was quarrying and digging going on,--our old base-ball +ground, hard by the burial-place. There I paused; and if any thoughtful +boy who loves to tread in the footsteps that another has sown with +memories of the time when he was young shall follow my footsteps, I need +not ask him to rest here awhile, for he will be enchained by the noble +view before him. Far to the north and west the mountains of New +Hampshire lifted their summits in along encircling ridge of pale blue +waves. The day was clear, and every mound and peak traced its outline +with perfect definition against the sky. This was a sight which had more +virtue and refreshment in it than any aspect of nature that I had looked +upon, I am afraid I must say for years. I have been by the seaside now +and then, but the sea is constantly busy with its own affairs, running +here and there, listening to what the winds have to say and getting angry +with them, always indifferent, often insolent, and ready to do a mischief +to those who seek its companionship. But these still, serene, unchanging +mountains,--Monadnock, Kearsarge,--what memories that name recalls!--and +the others, the dateless Pyramids of New England, the eternal monuments +of her ancient race, around which cluster the homes of so many of her +bravest and hardiest children,--I can never look at them without feeling +that, vast and remote and awful as they are, there is a kind of inward +heat and muffled throb in their stony cores, that brings them into a +vague sort of sympathy with human hearts. It is more than a year since I +have looked on those blue mountains, and they "are to me as a feeling" +now, and have been ever since. + +I had only to pass a wall and I was in the burial-ground. It was thinly +tenanted as I remember it, but now populous with the silent immigrants of +more than a whole generation. There lay the dead I had left, the two or +three students of the Seminary; the son of the worthy pair in whose house +I lived, for whom in those days hearts were still aching, and by whose +memory the house still seemed haunted. A few upright stones were all +that I recollect. But now, around them were the monuments of many of the +dead whom I remembered as living. I doubt if there has been a more +faithful reader of these graven stones than myself for many a long day. +I listened to more than one brief sermon from preachers whom I had often +heard as they thundered their doctrines down upon me from the throne-like +desk. Now they spoke humbly out of the dust, from a narrower pulpit, from +an older text than any they ever found in Cruden's Concordance, but there +was an eloquence in their voices the listening chapel had never known. +There were stately monuments and studied inscriptions, but none so +beautiful, none so touching, as that which hallows the resting-place of +one of the children of the very learned Professor Robinson: "Is it well +with the child? And she answered, It is well." + +While I was musing amidst these scenes in the mood of Hamlet, two old +men, as my little ghost called them, appeared on the scene to answer to +the gravedigger and his companion. They christened a mountain or two for +me, "Kearnsarge" among the rest, and revived some old recollections, of +which the most curious was "Basil's Cave." The story was recent, when I +was there, of one Basil, or Bezill, or Buzzell, or whatever his name +might have been, a member of the Academy, fabulously rich, Orientally +extravagant, and of more or less lawless habits. He had commanded a cave +to be secretly dug, and furnished it sumptuously, and there with his +companions indulged in revelries such as the daylight of that consecrated +locality had never looked upon. How much truth there was in it all I +will not pretend to say, but I seem to remember stamping over every rock +that sounded hollow, to question if it were not the roof of what was once +Basil's Cave. + +The sun was getting far past the meridian, and I sought a shelter under +which to partake of the hermit fare I had brought with me. Following the +slope of the hill northward behind the cemetery, I found a pleasant clump +of trees grouped about some rocks, disposed so as to give a seat, a +table, and a shade. I left my benediction on this pretty little natural +caravansera, and a brief record on one of its white birches, hoping to +visit it again on some sweet summer or autumn day. + +Two scenes remained to look upon,--the Shawshine River and the Indian +Ridge. The streamlet proved to have about the width with which it flowed +through my memory. The young men and the boys were bathing in its +shallow current, or dressing and undressing upon its banks as in the days +of old; the same river, only the water changed; "The same boys, only the +names and the accidents of local memory different," I whispered to my +little ghost. + +The Indian Ridge more than equalled what I expected of it. It is well +worth a long ride to visit. The lofty wooded bank is a mile and a half +in extent, with other ridges in its neighborhood, in general running +nearly parallel with it, one of them still longer. These singular +formations are supposed to have been built up by the eddies of +conflicting currents scattering sand and gravel and stones as they swept +over the continent. But I think they pleased me better when I was taught +that the Indians built them; and while I thank Professor Hitchcock, I +sometimes feel as if I should like to found a chair to teach the +ignorance of what people do not want to know. + +"Two tickets to Boston." I said to the man at the station. + +But the little ghost whispered, "When you leave this place you leave me +behind you." + +"One ticket to Boston, if you please. Good by, little ghost." + +I believe the boy-shadow still lingers around the well-remembered scenes +I traversed on that day, and that, whenever I revisit them, I shall find +him again as my companion. + + + + +THE PULPIT AND THE PEW. + +The priest is dead for the Protestant world. Luther's inkstand did not +kill the devil, but it killed the priest, at least for us: He is a loss +in many respects to be regretted. He kept alive the spirit of reverence. +He was looked up to as possessing qualities superhuman in their nature, +and so was competent to be the stay of the weak and their defence against +the strong. If one end of religion is to make men happier in this world +as well as in the next, mankind lost a great source of happiness when the +priest was reduced to the common level of humanity, and became only a +minister. Priest, which was presbyter, corresponded to senator, and was +a title to respect and honor. Minister is but the diminutive of +magister, and implies an obligation to render service. + +It was promised to the first preachers that in proof of their divine +mission they should have the power of casting out devils and talking in +strange tongues; that they should handle serpents and drink poisons with +impunity; that they should lay hands on the sick and they should recover. +The Roman Church claims some of these powers for its clergy and its +sacred objects to this day. Miracles, it is professed, are wrought by +them, or through them, as in the days of the apostles. Protestantism +proclaims that the age of such occurrences as the apostles witnessed is +past. What does it know about miracles? It knows a great many records +of miracles, but this is a different kind of knowledge. + +The minister may be revered for his character, followed for his +eloquence, admired for his learning, loved for his amiable qualities, but +he can never be what the priest was in past ages, and is still, in the +Roman Church. Dr. Arnold's definition may be found fault with, but it +has a very real meaning. "The essential point in the notion of a priest +is this: that he is a person made necessary to our intercourse with God, +without being necessary or beneficial to us morally,--an unreasonable, +immoral, spiritual necessity." He did not mean, of course, that the +priest might not have all the qualities which would recommend him as a +teacher or as a man, but that he had a special power, quite independent +of his personal character, which could act, as it were, mechanically; +that out of him went a virtue, as from the hem of his Master's raiment, +to those with whom his sacred office brought him in contact. + +It was a great comfort to poor helpless human beings to have a tangible +personality of like nature with themselves as a mediator between them and +the heavenly powers. Sympathy can do much for the sorrowing, the +suffering, the dying, but to hear God himself speaking directly through +human lips, to feel the touch of a hand which is the channel of +communication with the unseen Omnipotent, this was and is the privilege +of those who looked and those who still look up to a priesthood. It has +been said, and many who have walked the hospitals or served in the +dispensaries can bear witness to the truth of the assertion, that the +Roman Catholics know how to die. The same thing is less confidently to +be said of Protestants. How frequently is the story told of the most +exemplary Protestant Christians, nay, how common is it to read in the +lives of the most exemplary Protestant ministers, that they were beset +with doubts and terrors in their last days! The blessing of the viaticum +is unknown to them. Man is essentially an idolater,--that is, in bondage +to his imagination,--for there is no more harm in the Greek word eidolon +than in the Latin word imago. He wants a visible image to fix his +thought, a scarabee or a crux ansata, or the modern symbols which are to +our own time what these were to the ancient Egyptians. He wants a +vicegerent of the Almighty to take his dying hand and bid him godspeed on +his last journey. Who but such an immediate representative of the +Divinity would have dared to say to the monarch just laying his head on +the block, "Fils de Saint Louis, monte au ciel"? + +It has been a long and gradual process to thoroughly republicanize the +American Protestant descendant of the ancient priesthood. The history of +the Congregationalists in New England would show us how this change has +gone on, until we have seen the church become a hall open to all sorts of +purposes, the pulpit come down to the level of the rostrum, and the +clergyman take on the character of a popular lecturer who deals with +every kind of subject, including religion. + +Whatever fault we may find with many of their beliefs, we have a right to +be proud of our Pilgrim and Puritan fathers among the clergy. They were +ready to do and to suffer anything for their faith, and a faith which +breeds heroes is better than an unbelief which leaves nothing worth being +a hero for. Only let us be fair, and not defend the creed of Mohammed +because it nurtured brave men and enlightened scholars, or refrain from +condemning polygamy in our admiration of the indomitable spirit and +perseverance of the Pilgrim Fathers of Mormonism, or justify an inhuman +belief, or a cruel or foolish superstition, because it was once held or +acquiesced in by men whose nobility of character we heartily recognize. +The New England clergy can look back to a noble record, but the pulpit +has sometimes required a homily from the pew, and may sometimes find it +worth its while to listen to one even in our own days. + +From the settlement of the country to the present time, the ministers +have furnished the highest type of character to the people among whom +they have lived. They have lost to a considerable extent the position of +leaders, but if they are in our times rather to be looked upon as +representatives of their congregations, they represent what is best among +those of whom they are the speaking organs. We have a right to expect +them to be models as well as teachers of all that makes the best citizens +for this world and the next, and they have not been, and are not in these +later days unworthy of their high calling. They have worked hard for +small earthly compensation. They have been the most learned men the +country had to show, when learning was a scarce commodity. Called by +their consciences to self-denying labors, living simply, often +half-supported by the toil of their own hands, they have let the light, +such light as shone for them, into the minds of our communities as the +settler's axe let the sunshine into their log-huts and farm-houses. + +Their work has not been confined to their professional duties, as a few +instances will illustrate. Often, as was just said, they toiled like +day-laborers, teasing lean harvests out of their small inclosures of +land, for the New England soil is not one that "laughs when tickled with +a hoe," but rather one that sulks when appealed to with that persuasive +implement. The father of the eminent Boston physician whose recent loss +is so deeply regretted, the Reverend Pitt Clarke, forty-two years pastor +of the small fold in the town of Norton, Massachusetts, was a typical +example of this union of the two callings, and it would be hard to find a +story of a more wholesome and useful life, within a limited and isolated +circle, than that which the pious care of one of his children +commemorated. Sometimes the New England minister, like worthy Mr. Ward +of Stratford-on-Avon, in old England, joined the practice of medicine to +the offices of his holy profession. Michael Wigglesworth, the poet of +"The Day of Doom," and Charles Chauncy, the second president of Harvard +College, were instances of this twofold service. In politics their +influence has always been felt, and in many cases their drums +ecclesiastic have beaten the reveille as vigorously, and to as good +purpose, as it ever sounded in the slumbering camp. Samuel Cooper sat in +council with the leaders of the Revolution in Boston. The three +Northampton-born brothers Allen, Thomas, Moses, and Solomon, lifted their +voices, and, when needed, their armed hands, in the cause of liberty. In +later days, Elijah Parish and David Osgood carried politics into their +pulpits as boldly as their antislavery successors have done in times +still more recent. + +The learning, the personal character, the sacredness of their office, +tended, to give the New England clergy of past generations a kind of +aristocratic dignity, a personal grandeur, much more felt in the days +when class distinctions were recognized less unwillingly than at present. +Their costume added to the effect of their bodily presence, as the old +portraits illustrate for us, as those of us who remember the last of the +"fair, white, curly" wigs, as it graced the imposing figure of the +Reverend Dr. Marsh of Wethersfield, Connecticut, can testify. They were +not only learned in the history of the past, but they were the +interpreters of the prophecy, and announced coming events with a +confidence equal to that with which the weather-bureau warns us of a +coming storm. The numbers of the book of Daniel and the visions of the +Revelation were not too hard for them. In the commonplace book of the +Reverend Joel Benedict is to be found the following record, made, as it +appears, about the year 1773: "Conversing with Dr. Bellamy upon the +downfall of Antichrist, after many things had been said upon the subject, +the Doctor began to warm, and uttered himself after this manner: 'Tell +your children to tell their children that in the year 1866 something +notable will happen in the church; tell them the old man says so.'" + +The "old man" came pretty near hitting the mark, as we shall see if we +consider what took place in the decade from 1860 to 1870. In 1864 the +Pope issued the "Syllabus of Errors," which "must be considered by +Romanists--as an infallible official document, and which arrays the +papacy in open war against modern civilization and civil and religious +freedom." The Vatican Council in 1870 declared the Pope to be the bishop +of bishops, and immediately after this began the decisive movement of the +party known as the "Old Catholics." In the exact year looked forward to +by the New England prophet, 1866, the evacuation of Rome by the French +and the publication of "Ecce Homo" appear to be the most remarkable +events having Special relation to the religious world. Perhaps the +National Council of the Congregationalists, held at Boston in 1865, may +be reckoned as one of the occurrences which the oracle just missed. + +The confidence, if not the spirit of prophecy, lasted down to a later +period. "In half a century," said the venerable Dr. Porter of Conway, +New Hampshire, in 1822, "there will be no Pagans, Jews, Mohammedans, +Unitarians, or Methodists." The half-century has more than elapsed, and +the prediction seems to stand in need of an extension, like many other +prophetic utterances. + +The story is told of David Osgood, the shaggy-browed old minister of +Medford, that he had expressed his belief that not more than one soul in +two thousand would be saved. Seeing a knot of his parishioners in +debate, he asked them what they were discussing, and was told that they +were questioning which of the Medford people was the elected one, the +population being just two thousand, and that opinion was divided whether +it would be the minister or one of his deacons. The story may or may not +be literally true, but it illustrates the popular belief of those days, +that the clergyman saw a good deal farther into the councils of the +Almighty than his successors could claim the power of doing. + +The objects about me, as I am writing, call to mind the varied +accomplishments of some of the New England clergy. The face of the +Revolutionary preacher, Samuel Cooper, as Copley painted it, looks upon +me with the pleasantest of smiles and a liveliness of expression which +makes him seem a contemporary after a hundred years' experience of +eternity. The Plato on this lower shelf bears the inscription: "Ezroe +Stiles, 1766. Olim e libris Rev. Jaredis Eliot de Killingworth." Both +were noted scholars and philosophers. The hand-lens before me was +imported, with other philosophical instruments, by the Reverend John +Prince of Salem, an earlier student of science in the town since +distinguished by the labors of the Essex Institute. Jeremy Belknap holds +an honored place in that unpretending row of local historians. And in +the pages of his "History of New Hampshire" may be found a chapter +contributed in part by the most remarkable man, in many respects, among +all the older clergymen preacher, lawyer, physician, astronomer, +botanist, entomologist, explorer, colonist, legislator in state and +national governments, and only not seated on the bench of the Supreme +Court of a Territory because he declined the office when Washington +offered it to him. This manifold individual was the minister of +Hamilton, a pleasant little town in Essex County, Massachusetts,--the +Reverend Manasseh Cutler. These reminiscences from surrounding objects +came up unexpectedly, of themselves: and have a right here, as showing +how wide is the range of intelligence in the clerical body thus +accidentally represented in a single library making no special +pretensions. + +It is not so exalted a claim to make for them, but it may be added that +they were often the wits and humorists of their localities. Mather +Byles's facetie are among the colonial classic reminiscences. But these +were, for the most part, verbal quips and quibbles. True humor is an +outgrowth of character. It is never found in greater perfection than in +old clergymen and old college professors. Dr. Sprague's "Annals of the +American Pulpit" tells many stories of our old ministers as good as Dean +Ramsay's "Scottish Reminiscences." He has not recorded the following, +which is to be found in Miss Larned's excellent and most interesting +History of Windham County, Connecticut. The Reverend Josiah Dwight was +the minister of Woodstock, Connecticut, about the year 1700. He was not +old, it is true, but he must have caught the ways of the old ministers. +The "sensational" pulpit of our own time could hardly surpass him in the +drollery of its expressions. A specimen or two may dispose the reader to +turn over the pages which follow in a good-natured frame of mind. "If +unconverted men ever got to heaven," he said, "they would feel as uneasy +as a shad up the crotch of a white-oak." Some of his ministerial +associates took offence at his eccentricities, and called on a visit of +admonition to the offending clergyman. "Mr. Dwight received their +reproofs with great meekness, frankly acknowledged his faults, and +promised amendment, but, in prayer at parting, after returning thanks for +the brotherly visit and admonition, 'hoped that they might so hitch their +horses on earth that they should never kick in the stables of everlasting +salvation.'" + +It is a good thing to have some of the blood of one of these old +ministers in one's veins. An English bishop proclaimed the fact before +an assembly of physicians the other day that he was not ashamed to say +that he had a son who was a doctor. Very kind that was in the bishop, +and very proud his medical audience must have felt. Perhaps he was not +ashamed of the Gospel of Luke, "the beloved physician," or even of the +teachings which came from the lips of one who was a carpenter, and the +son of a carpenter. So a New-Englander, even if he were a bishop, need +not be ashamed to say that he consented to have an ancestor who was a +minister. On the contrary, he has a right to be grateful for a probable +inheritance of good instincts, a good name, and a bringing up in a +library where he bumped about among books from the time when he was +hardly taller than one of his father's or grandfather's folios. What are +the names of ministers' sons which most readily occur to our memory as +illustrating these advantages? Edward Everett, Joseph Stevens +Buckminster, Ralph Waldo Emerson, George Bancroft, Richard Hildreth, +James Russell Lowell, Francis Parkman, Charles Eliot Norton, were all +ministers' boys. John Lothrop Motley was the grandson of the clergyman +after whom he was named. George Ticknor was next door to such a descent, +for his father was a deacon. This is a group which it did not take a +long or a wide search to bring together. + +Men such as the ministers who have been described could not fail to +exercise a good deal of authority in the communities to which they +belonged. The effect of the Revolution must have been to create a +tendency to rebel against spiritual dictation. Republicanism levels in +religion as in everything. It might have been expected, therefore, that +soon after civil liberty had been established there would be conflicts +between the traditional, authority of the minister and the claims of the +now free and independent congregation. So it was, in fact, as for +instance in the case which follows, for which the reader is indebted to +Miss Lamed's book, before cited. + +The ministerial veto allowed by the Saybrook Platform gave rise, in the +year 1792, to a fierce conflict in the town of Pomfret, Connecticut. +Zephaniah Swift, a lawyer of Windham, came out in the Windham "Herald," +in all the vehemence of partisan phraseology, with all the emphasis of +italics and small capitals. Was it not time, he said, for people to look +about them and see whether "such despotism was founded in Scripture, in +reason, in policy, or on the rights of man! A minister, by his vote, by +his single voice, may negative the unanimous vote of the church! Are +ministers composed of finer clay than the rest of mankind, that entitles +them to this preeminence? Does a license to preach transform a man into a +higher order of beings and endow him with a natural quality to govern? +Are the laity an inferior order of beings, fit only to be slaves and to +be governed? Is it good policy for mankind to subject themselves to such +degrading vassalage and abject submission? Reason, common sense, and the +Bible, with united voice, proclaim to all mankind that they are all born +free and equal; that every member of a church or Christian congregation +must be on the same footing in respect of church government, and that the +CONSTITUTION, which delegates to one the power to negative the vote of +all the rest, is SUBVERSIVE OF THE NATURAL RIGHT OF MANKIND AND REPUGNANT +TO THE WORD OF GOD." + +The Reverend Mr. Welch replied to the lawyer's attack, pronouncing him +to be "destitute of delicacy, decency, good manners, sound judgment, +honesty, manhood, and humanity; a poltroon, a cat's-paw, the infamous +tool of a party, a partisan, a political weathercock, and a ragamuffin." + +No Fourth-of-July orator would in our day rant like the lawyer, and no +clergyman would use such language as that of the Reverend Moses Welch. +The clergy have been pretty well republicanized within that last two or +three generations, and are not likely to provoke quarrels by assertion of +their special dignities or privileges. The public is better bred than to +carry on an ecclesiastical controversy in terms which political brawlers +would hardly think admissible. The minister of religion is generally +treated with something more than respect; he is allowed to say undisputed +what would be sharply controverted in anybody else. Bishop Gilbert +Haven, of happy memory, had been discussing a religious subject with a +friend who was not convinced by his arguments. "Wait till you hear me +from the pulpit," he said; "there you cannot answer me." The +preacher--if I may use an image which would hardly have suggested itself +to him--has his hearer's head in chancery, and can administer punishment +ad libitum. False facts, false reasoning, bad rhetoric, bad grammar, +stale images, borrowed passages, if not borrowed sermons, are listened to +without a word of comment or a look of disapprobation. + +One of the ablest and most conscientiously laborious of our clergymen has +lately ventured to question whether all his professional brethren +invariably give utterance to their sincerest beliefs, and has been +sharply criticised for so doing. The layman, who sits silent in his pew, +has his rights when out of it, and among them is the right of questioning +that which has been addressed to him from the privileged eminence of the +pulpit, or in any way sanctioned by his religious teacher. It is nearly +two hundred years since a Boston layman wrote these words: "I am not +ignorant that the pious frauds of the ancient, and the inbred fire (I do +not call it pride) of many of our modern divines, have precipitated them +to propagate and maintain truth as well as falsehoods, in such an unfair +manner as has given advantage to the enemy to suspect the whole doctrine +these men have profest to be nothing but a mere trick." + +So wrote Robert Calef, the Boston merchant, whose book the Reverend +Increase Mather, president of Harvard College, burned publicly in the +college yard. But the pity of it is that the layman had not cried out +earlier and louder, and saved the community from the horror of those +judicial murders for witchcraft, the blame of which was so largely +attributable to the clergy. + +Perhaps no, laymen have given the clergy more trouble than the doctors. +The old reproach against physicians, that where there were three of them +together there were two atheists, had a real significance, but not that +which was intended by the sharp-tongued ecclesiastic who first uttered +it. Undoubtedly there is a strong tendency in the pursuits of the +medical profession to produce disbelief in that figment of tradition and +diseased human imagination which has been installed in the seat of +divinity by the priesthood of cruel and ignorant ages. It is impossible, +or at least very difficult, for a physician who has seen the perpetual +efforts of Nature--whose diary is the book he reads oftenest--to heal +wounds, to expel poisons, to do the best that can be done under the given +conditions,--it is very difficult for him to believe in a world where +wounds cannot heal, where opiates cannot give a respite from pain, where +sleep never comes with its sweet oblivion of suffering, where the art of +torture is the only science cultivated, and the capacity for being +tormented is the only faculty which remains to the children of that same +Father who cares for the falling sparrow. The Deity has often been +pictured as Moloch, and the physician has, no doubt, frequently +repudiated him as a monstrosity. + +On the other hand, the physician has often been renowned for piety as +well as for his peculiarly professional virtue of charity,--led upward by +what he sees to the source of all the daily marvels wrought before his +own eyes. So it was that Galen gave utterance to that psalm of praise +which the sweet singer of Israel need not have been ashamed of; and if +this "heathen" could be lifted into such a strain of devotion, we need +not be surprised to find so many devout Christian worshippers among the +crowd of medical "atheists." + +No two professions should come into such intimate and cordial relations +as those to which belong the healers of the body and the headers of the +mind. There can be no more fatal mistake than that which brings them +into hostile attitudes with reference to each other, both having in view +the welfare of their fellow-creatures. But there is a territory always +liable to be differed about between them. There are patients who never +tell their physician the grief which lies at the bottom of their +ailments. He goes through his accustomed routine with them, and thinks +he has all the elements needed for his diagnosis. But he has seen no +deeper into the breast than the tongue, and got no nearer the heart than +the wrist. A wise and experienced clergyman, coming to the patient's +bedside,--not with the professional look on his face which suggests the +undertaker and the sexton, but with a serene countenance and a +sympathetic voice, with tact, with patience, waiting for the right +moment,--will surprise the shy spirit into a confession of the doubt, the +sorrow, the shame, the remorse, the terror which underlies all the bodily +symptoms, and the unburdening of which into a loving and pitying soul is +a more potent anodyne than all the drowsy sirups of the world. And, on +the other hand, there are many nervous and over-sensitive natures which +have been wrought up by self-torturing spiritual exercises until their +best confessor would be a sagacious and wholesome-minded physician. + +Suppose a person to have become so excited by religious stimulants that +he is subject to what are known to the records of insanity as +hallucinations: that he hears voices whispering blasphemy in his ears, +and sees devils coming to meet him, and thinks he is going to be torn in +pieces, or trodden into the mire. Suppose that his mental conflicts, +after plunging him into the depths of despondency, at last reduce him to +a state of despair, so that he now contemplates taking his own life, and +debates with himself whether it shall be by knife, halter, or poison, and +after much questioning is apparently making up his mind to commit +suicide. Is not this a manifest case of insanity, in the form known as +melancholia? Would not any prudent physician keep such a person under +the eye of constant watchers, as in a dangerous state of, at least, +partial mental alienation? Yet this is an exact transcript of the mental +condition of Christian in "Pilgrim's Progress," and its counterpart has +been found in thousands of wretched lives terminated by the act of +self-destruction, which came so near taking place in the hero of the +allegory. Now the wonderful book from which this example is taken is, +next to the Bible and the Treatise of "De Imitatione Christi," the +best-known religious work of Christendom. If Bunyan and his +contemporary, Sydenham, had met in consultation over the case of +Christian at the time when he was meditating self-murder, it is very +possible that there might have been a difference of judgment. The +physician would have one advantage in such a consultation. He would +pretty certainly have received a Christian education, while the clergyman +would probably know next to nothing of the laws or manifestations of +mental or bodily disease. It does not seem as if any theological student +was really prepared for his practical duties until he had learned +something of the effects of bodily derangements, and, above all, had +become familiar with the gamut of mental discord in the wards of an +insane asylum. + +It is a very thoughtless thing to say that the physician stands to the +divine in the same light as the divine stands to the physician, so far as +each may attempt to handle subjects belonging especially to the other's +profession. Many physicians know a great deal more about religious +matters than they do about medicine. They have read the Bible ten times +as much as they ever read any medical author. They have heard scores of +sermons for one medical lecture to which they have listened. They often +hear much better preaching than the average minister, for he hears +himself chiefly, and they hear abler men and a variety of them. They +have now and then been distinguished in theology as well as in their own +profession. The name of Servetus might call up unpleasant recollections, +but that of another medical practitioner may be safely mentioned. "It +was not till the middle of the last century that the question as to the +authorship of the Pentateuch was handled with anything like a discerning +criticism. The first attempt was made by a layman, whose studies we might +have supposed would scarcely have led him to such an investigation." +This layman was "Astruc, doctor and professor of medicine in the Royal +College at Paris, and court physician to Louis XIV." The quotation is +from the article "Pentateuch" in Smith's "Dictionary of the Bible," +which, of course, lies on the table of the least instructed clergyman. +The sacred profession has, it is true, returned the favor by giving the +practitioner of medicine Bishop Berkeley's "Treatise on Tar-water," and +the invaluable prescription of that "aged clergyman whose sands of +life"----but let us be fair, if not generous, and remember that Cotton +Mather shares with Zabdiel Boylston the credit of introducing the +practice of inoculation into America. The professions should be cordial +allies, but the church-going, Bible-reading physician ought to know a +great deal more of the subjects included under the general name of +theology than the clergyman can be expected to know of medicine. To say, +as has been said not long since, that a young divinity student is as +competent to deal with the latter as an old physician is to meddle with +the former, suggests the idea that wisdom is not an heirloom in the +family of the one who says it. What a set of idiots our clerical +teachers must have been and be, if, after a quarter or half a century of +their instruction, a person of fair intelligence is utterly incompetent +to form any opinion about the subjects which they have been teaching, or +trying to teach him, so long! + +A minister must find it very hard work to preach to hearers who do not +believe, or only half believe, what he preaches. But pews without heads +in them are a still more depressing spectacle. He may convince the +doubter and reform the profligate. But he cannot produce any change on +pine and mahogany by his discourses, and the more wood he sees as he +looks along his floor and galleries, the less his chance of being useful. +It is natural that in times like the present changes of faith and of +place of worship should be far from infrequent. It is not less natural +that there should be regrets on one side and gratification on the other, +when such changes occur. It even happens occasionally that the regrets +become aggravated into reproaches, rarely from the side which receives +the new accessions, less rarely from the one which is left. It is quite +conceivable that the Roman Church, which considers itself the only true +one, should look on those who leave its communion as guilty of a great +offence. It is equally natural that a church which considers Pope and +Pagan a pair of murderous giants, sitting at the mouths of their caves, +alike in their hatred to true Christians, should regard any of its +members who go over to Romanism as lost in fatal error. But within the +Protestant fold there are many compartments, and it would seem that it is +not a deadly defection to pass from one to another. + +So far from such exchanges between sects being wrong, they ought to +happen a great deal oftener than they do. All the larger bodies of +Christians should be constantly exchanging members. All men are born +with conservative or aggressive tendencies: they belong naturally with +the idol-worshippers or the idol-breakers. Some wear their fathers' old +clothes, and some will have a new suit. One class of men must have their +faith hammered in like a nail, by authority; another class must have it +worked in like a screw, by argument. Members of one of these classes +often find themselves fixed by circumstances in the other. The late +Orestes A. Brownson used to preach at one time to a little handful of +persons, in a small upper room, where some of them got from him their +first lesson about the substitution of reverence for idolatry, in dealing +with the books they hold sacred. But after a time Mr. Brownson found he +had mistaken his church, and went over to the Roman Catholic +establishment, of which he became and remained to his dying day one of +the most stalwart champions. Nature is prolific and ambidextrous. While +this strong convert was trying to carry us back to the ancient faith, +another of her sturdy children, Theodore Parker, was trying just as hard +to provide a new church for the future. One was driving the sheep into +the ancient fold, while the other was taking down the bars that kept them +out of the new pasture. Neither of these powerful men could do the +other's work, and each had to find the task for which he was destined. + +The "old gospel ship," as the Methodist song calls it, carries many who +would steer by the wake of their vessel. But there are many others who +do not trouble themselves to look over the stern, having their eyes fixed +on the light-house in the distance before them. In less figurative +language, there are multitudes of persons who are perfectly contented +with the old formulae of the church with which they and their fathers +before them have been and are connected, for the simple reason that they +fit, like old shoes, because they have been worn so long, and mingled +with these, in the most conservative religious body, are here and there +those who are restless in the fetters of a confession of faith to which +they have pledged themselves without believing in it. This has been true +of the Athanasian creed, in the Anglican Church, for two centuries more +or less, unless the Archbishop of Canterbury, Tillotson, stood alone in +wishing the church were well rid of it. In fact, it has happened to the +present writer to hear the Thirty-nine Articles summarily disposed of by +one of the most zealous members of the American branch of that communion, +in a verb of one syllable, more familiar to the ears of the forecastle +than to those of the vestry. + +But on the other hand, it is far from uncommon to meet with persons among +the so-called "liberal" denominations who are uneasy for want of a more +definite ritual and a more formal organization than they find in their +own body. Now, the rector or the minister must be well aware that there +are such cases, and each of them must be aware that there are individuals +under his guidance whom he cannot satisfy by argument, and who really +belong by all their instincts to another communion. It seems as if a +thoroughly honest, straight-collared clergyman would say frankly to his +restless parishioner: "You do not believe the central doctrines of the +church which you are in the habit of attending. You belong properly to +Brother A.'s or Brother B.'s fold, and it will be more manly and probably +more profitable for you to go there than to stay with us." And, again, +the rolling-collared clergyman might be expected to say to this or that +uneasy listener: "You are longing for a church which will settle your +beliefs for you, and relieve you to a great extent from the task, to +which you seem to be unequal, of working out your own salvation with fear +and trembling. Go over the way to Brother C.'s or Brother D.'s; your +spine is weak, and they will furnish you a back-board which will keep you +straight and make you comfortable." Patients are not the property of +their physicians, nor parishioners of their ministers. + +As for the children of clergymen, the presumption is that they will +adhere to the general belief professed by their fathers. But they do not +lose their birthright or their individuality, and have the world all +before them to choose their creed from, like other persons. They are +sometimes called to account for attacking the dogmas they are supposed to +have heard preached from their childhood. They cannot defend themselves, +for various good reasons. If they did, one would have to say he got more +preaching than was good for him, and came at last to feel about sermons +and their doctrines as confectioners' children do about candy. Another +would have to own that he got his religious belief, not from his father, +but from his mother. That would account for a great deal, for the milk +in a woman's veins sweetens, or at least, dilutes an acrid doctrine, as +the blood of the motherly cow softens the virulence of small-pox, so that +its mark survives only as the seal of immunity. Another would plead +atavism, and say he got his religious instincts from his +great-grandfather, as some do their complexion or their temper. Others +would be compelled to confess that the belief of a wife or a sister had +displaced that which they naturally inherited. No man can be expected to +go thus into the details of his family history, and, therefore, it is an +ill-bred and indecent thing to fling a man's father's creed in his face, +as if he had broken the fifth commandment in thinking for himself in the +light of a new generation. Common delicacy would prevent him from saying +that he did not get his faith from his father, but from somebody else, +perhaps from his grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice, like the young +man whom the Apostle cautioned against total abstinence. + +It is always the right, and may sometimes be the duty, of the layman to +call the attention of the clergy to the short-comings and errors, not +only of their own time, but also of the preceding generations, of which +they are the intellectual and moral product. This is especially true +when the authority of great names is fallen back upon as a defence of +opinions not in themselves deserving to be upheld. It may be very +important to show that the champions of this or that set of dogmas, some +of which are extinct or obsolete as beliefs, while others retain their +vitality, held certain general notions which vitiated their conclusions. +And in proportion to the eminence of such champions, and the frequency +with which their names are appealed to as a bulwark of any particular +creed or set of doctrines, is it urgent to show into what obliquities or +extravagances or contradictions of thought they have been betrayed. + +In summing up the religious history of New England, it would be just and +proper to show the agency of the Mathers, father and son, in the +witchcraft delusion. It would be quite fair to plead in their behalf the +common beliefs of their time. It would be an extenuation of their acts +that, not many years before, the great and good magistrate, Sir Matthew +Hale, had sanctioned the conviction of prisoners accused of witchcraft. +To fall back on the errors of the time is very proper when we are trying +our predecessors in foro conscientace: The houses they dwelt in may have +had some weak or decayed beams and rafters, but they served for their +shelter, at any rate. It is quite another matter when those rotten +timbers are used in holding up the roofs over our own heads. Still more, +if one of our ancestors built on an unsafe or an unwholesome foundation, +the best thing we can do is to leave it and persuade others to leave it +if we can. And if we refer to him as a precedent, it must be as a +warning and not as a guide. + +Such was the reason of the present writer's taking up the writings of +Jonathan Edwards for examination in a recent essay. The "Edwardsian" +theology is still recognized as a power in and beyond the denomination to +which he belonged. One or more churches bear his name, and it is thrown +into the scale of theological belief as if it added great strength to the +party which claims him. That he was a man of extraordinary endowments +and deep spiritual nature was not questioned, nor that he was a most +acute reasoner, who could unfold a proposition into its consequences as +patiently, as convincingly, as a palaeontologist extorts its confession +from a fossil fragment. But it was maintained that so many dehumanizing +ideas were mixed up with his conceptions of man, and so many diabolizing +attributes embodied in his imagination of the Deity, that his system of +beliefs was tainted throughout by them, and that the fact of his being so +remarkable a logician recoiled on the premises which pointed his +inexorable syllogisms to such revolting conclusions. When he presents us +a God, in whose sight children, with certain not too frequent exceptions, +"are young vipers, and are infinitely more hateful than vipers;" when he +gives the most frightful detailed description of infinite and endless +tortures which it drives men and women mad to think of prepared for "the +bulk of mankind;" when he cruelly pictures a future in which parents are +to sing hallelujahs of praise as they see their children driven into the +furnace, where they are to lie "roasting" forever,--we have a right to +say that the man who held such beliefs and indulged in such imaginations +and expressions is a burden and not a support in reference to the creed +with which his name is associated. What heathenism has ever approached +the horrors of this conception of human destiny? It is not an abuse of +language to apply to such a system of beliefs the name of Christian +pessimism. + +If these and similar doctrines are so generally discredited as some +appear to think, we might expect to see the change showing itself in +catechisms and confessions of faith, to hear the joyful news of relief +from its horrors in all our churches, and no longer to read in the +newspapers of ministers rejected or put on trial for heresy because they +could not accept the most dreadful of these doctrines. Whether this be so +or not, it must be owned that the name of Jonathan Edwards does at this +day carry a certain authority with it for many persons, so that anything +he believed gains for them some degree of probability from that +circumstance. It would, therefore, be of much interest to know whether +he was trustworthy in his theological speculations, and whether he ever +changed his belief with reference to any of the great questions above +alluded to. + +Some of our readers may remember a story which got abroad many years ago +that a certain M. Babinet, a scientific Frenchman of note, had predicted +a serious accident soon to occur to the planet on which we live by the +collision with it of a great comet then approaching us, or some such +occurrence. There is no doubt that this prediction produced anxiety and +alarm in many timid persons. It became a very interesting question with +them who this M. Babinet might be. Was he a sound observer, who had made +other observations and predictions which had proved accurate? Or was he +one of those men who are always making blunders for other people to +correct? Is he known to have changed his opinion as to the approaching +disastrous event? + +So long as there were any persons made anxious by this prediction, so +long as there was even one who believed that he, and his family, and his +nation, and his race, and the home of mankind, with all its monuments, +were very soon to be smitten in mid-heaven and instantly shivered into +fragments, it was very desirable to find any evidence that this prophet +of evil was a man who held many extravagant and even monstrous opinions. +Still more satisfactory would it be if it could be shown that he had +reconsidered his predictions, and declared that he could not abide by his +former alarming conclusions. And we should think very ill of any +astronomer who would not rejoice for the sake of his fellow-creatures, if +not for his own, to find the threatening presage invalidated in either or +both of the ways just mentioned, even though he had committed himself to +M. Babinet's dire belief. + +But what is the trivial, temporal accident of the wiping out of a planet +and its inhabitants to the infinite catastrophe which shall establish a +mighty world of eternal despair? And which is it most desirable for +mankind to have disproved or weakened, the grounds of the threat of M. +Babinet, or those of the other infinitely more terrible comminations, so +far as they rest on the authority of Jonathan Edwards? + +The writer of this paper had been long engaged in the study of the +writings of Edwards, with reference to the essay he had in contemplation, +when, on speaking of the subject to a very distinguished orthodox divine, +this gentleman mentioned the existence of a manuscript of Edwards which +had been held back from the public on account of some opinions or +tendencies it contained, or was suspected of containing "High Arianism" +was the exact expression he used with reference to it. On relating this +fact to an illustrious man of science, whose name is best known to +botanists, but is justly held in great honor by the orthodox body to +which he belongs, it appeared that he, too, had heard of such a +manuscript, and the questionable doctrine associated with it in his +memory was Sabellianism. It was of course proper in the writer of an +essay on Jonathan Edwards to mention the alleged existence of such a +manuscript, with reference to which the same caution seemed to have been +exercised as that which led, the editor of his collected works to +suppress the language Edwards had used about children. + +This mention led to a friendly correspondence between the writer and one +of the professors in the theological school at Andover, and finally to +the publication of a brief essay, which, for some reason, had been +withheld from publication for more than a century. Its title is +"Observations concerning the Scripture OEconomy of the Trinity and +Covenant of Redemption. By Jonathan Edwards." It contains thirty-six +pages and a half, each small page having about two hundred words. The +pages before the reader will be found to average about three hundred and +twenty-five words. An introduction and an appendix by the editor, +Professor Egbert C. Smyth, swell the contents to nearly a hundred pages, +but these additions, and the circumstance that it is bound in boards, +must not lead us to overlook the fact that the little volume is nothing +more than a pamphlet in book's clothing. + +A most extraordinary performance it certainly is, dealing with the +arrangements entered into by the three persons of the Trinity, in as bald +and matter-of-fact language and as commercial a spirit as if the author +had been handling the adjustment of a limited partnership between three +retail tradesmen. But, lest a layman's judgment might be considered +insufficient, the treatise was submitted by the writer to one of the most +learned of our theological experts,--the same who once informed a church +dignitary, who had been attempting to define his theological position, +that he was a Eutychian,--a fact which he seems to have been no more +aware of than M. Jourdain was conscious that he had been speaking prose +all his life. The treatise appeared to this professor anti-trinitarian, +not in the direction of Unitarianism, however, but of Tritheism. Its +anthropomorphism affected him like blasphemy, and the paper produced in +him the sense of "great disgust," which its whole character might well +excite in the unlearned reader. + +All this is, however, of little importance, for this is not the work of +Edwards referred to by the present writer in his previous essay. The +tract recently printed as a volume may be the one referred to by Dr. +Bushnell, in 1851, but of this reference by him the writer never heard +until after his own essay was already printed. The manuscript of the +"Observations" was received by Professor Smyth, as he tells us in his +introduction, about fifteen years ago, from the late Reverend William T. +Dwight, D. D., to whom it was bequeathed by his brother, the Reverend Dr. +Sereno E. Dwight. + +But the reference of the present writer was to another production of the +great logician, thus spoken of in a quotation from "the accomplished +editor of the Hartford 'Courant,'" to be found in Professor Smyth's +introduction: + +"It has long been a matter of private information that Professor Edwards +A. Park, of Andover, had in his possession an published manuscript of +Edwards of considerable extent, perhaps two thirds as long as his +treatise on the will. As few have ever seen the manuscript, its contents +are only known by vague reports.... It is said that it contains a +departure from his published views on the Trinity and a modification of +the view of original sin. One account of it says that the manuscript +leans toward Sabellianism, and that it even approaches Pelagianism." + +It was to this "suppressed" manuscript the present writer referred, and +not to the slender brochure recently given to the public. He is bound, +therefore, to say plainly that to satisfy inquirers who may be still in +doubt with reference to Edwards's theological views, it would be +necessary to submit this manuscript, and all manuscripts of his which +have been kept private, to their inspection, in print, if possible, so +that all could form their own opinion about it or them. + +The whole matter may be briefly stated thus: Edwards believed in an +eternity of unimaginable horrors for "the bulk of mankind." His +authority counts with many in favor of that belief, which affects great +numbers as the idea of ghosts affected Madame de Stall: "Je n'y crois +pas, mais je les crains." This belief is one which it is infinitely +desirable to the human race should be shown to be possibly, probably, or +certainly erroneous. It is, therefore, desirable in the interest of +humanity that any force the argument in its favor may derive from +Edwards's authority should be weakened by showing that he was capable of +writing most unwisely, and if it should be proved that he changed his +opinions, or ran into any "heretical" vagaries, by using these facts +against the validity of his judgment. That he was capable of writing +most unwisely has been sufficiently shown by the recent publication of +his "Observations." Whether he, anywhere contradicted what were generally +accepted as his theological opinions, or how far he may have lapsed into +heresies, the public will never rest satisfied until it sees and +interprets for itself everything that is open to question which may be +contained in his yet unpublished manuscripts. All this is not in the +least a personal affair with the writer, who, in the course of his +studies of Edwards's works, accidentally heard, from the unimpeachable +sources sufficiently indicated, the reports, which it seems must have +been familiar to many, that there was unpublished matter bearing on the +opinions of the author through whose voluminous works he had been +toiling. And if he rejoiced even to hope that so wise a man as Edwards +has been considered, so good a man as he is recognized to have been, had, +possibly in his changes of opinion, ceased to think of children as +vipers, and of parents as shouting hallelujahs while their lost darlings +were being driven into the flames, where is the theologian who would not +rejoice to hope so with him or who would be willing to tell his wife or +his daughter that he did not? + +The real, vital division of the religious part of our Protestant +communities is into Christian optimists and Christian pessimists. The +Christian optimist in his fullest development is characterized by a +cheerful countenance, a voice in the major key, an undisguised enjoyment +of earthly comforts, and a short confession of faith. His theory of the +universe is progress; his idea of God is that he is a Father with all the +true paternal attributes, of man that he is destined to come into harmony +with the key-note of divine order, of this earth that it is a training +school for a better sphere of existence. The Christian pessimist in his +most typical manifestation is apt to wear a solemn aspect, to speak, +especially from the pulpit, in the minor key, to undervalue the lesser +enjoyments of life, to insist on a more extended list of articles of +belief. His theory of the universe recognizes this corner of it as a +moral ruin; his idea of the Creator is that of a ruler whose pardoning +power is subject to the veto of what is called "justice;" his notion of +man is that he is born a natural hater of God and goodness, and that his +natural destiny is eternal misery. The line dividing these two great +classes zigzags its way through the religious community, sometimes +following denominational layers and cleavages, sometimes going, like a +geological fracture, through many different strata. The natural +antagonists of the religious pessimists are the men of science, +especially the evolutionists, and the poets. It was but a conditioned +prophecy, yet we cannot doubt what was in Milton's mind when he sang, in +one of the divinest of his strains, that + + "Hell itself will pass away, + And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day." + +And Nature, always fair if we will allow her time enough, after giving +mankind the inspired tinker who painted the Christian's life as that of a +hunted animal, "never long at ease," desponding, despairing, on the verge +of self-murder,--painted it with an originality, a vividness, a power and +a sweetness, too, that rank him with the great authors of all time,--kind +Nature, after this gift, sent as his counterpoise the inspired ploughman, +whose songs have done more to humanize the hard theology of Scotland than +all the rationalistic sermons that were ever preached. Our own Whittier +has done and is doing the same thing, in a far holier spirit than Burns, +for the inherited beliefs of New England and the country to which New +England belongs. Let me sweeten these closing paragraphs of an essay not +meaning to hold a word of bitterness with a passage or two from the +lay-preacher who is listened to by a larger congregation than any man who +speaks from the pulpit. Who will not hear his words with comfort and +rejoicing when he speaks of "that larger hope which, secretly cherished +from the times of Origen and Duns Scotus to those of Foster and Maurice, +has found its fitting utterance in the noblest poem of the age?" + +It is Tennyson's "In Memoriam" to which he refers, and from which he +quotes four verses, of which this is the last: + + "Behold! we know not anything + I can but trust that good shall fall + At last,--far off,--at last, to all, + And every winter change to spring." + +If some are disposed to think that the progress of civilization and the +rapidly growing change of opinion renders unnecessary any further effort +to humanize "the Gospel of dread tidings;" if any believe the doctrines +of the Longer and Shorter Catechism of the Westminster divines are so far +obsolete as to require no further handling; if there are any who thank +these subjects have lost their interest for living souls ever since they +themselves have learned to stay at home on Sundays, with their cakes and +ale instead of going to meeting,--not such is Mr. Whittier's opinion, +as we may infer from his recent beautiful poem, "The Minister's +Daughter." It is not science alone that the old Christian pessimism has +got to struggle with, but the instincts of childhood, the affections of +maternity, the intuitions of poets, the contagious humanity of the +philanthropist,--in short, human nature and the advance of civilization. +The pulpit has long helped the world, and is still one of the chief +defences against the dangers that threaten society, and it is worthy now, +as it always has been in its best representation, of all love and honor. +But many of its professed creeds imperatively demand revision, and the +pews which call for it must be listened to, or the preacher will by and +by find himself speaking to a congregation of bodiless echoes by and by +find himself speaking to a congregation of bodiless echoes. + + + + + + +MEDICAL ESSAYS + +By Oliver Wendell Holmes + + +1842-1882 + + +CONTENTS: + +I. HOMEOPATHY AND ITS KINDRED DELUSIONS + +II. THE CONTAGIOUSNESS OF PUERPERAL FEVER + +III. CURRENTS AND COUNTER-CURRENTS IN MEDICAL SCIENCE + +IV. BORDER LINES OF KNOWLEDGE IN SOME PROVINCES OF MEDICAL SCIENCE + +V. SCHOLASTIC AND BEDSIDE TEACHING + +VI. THE MEDICAL PROFESSION IN MASSACHUSETTS + +VII. THE YOUNG PRACTITIONER + +VIII. MEDICAL LIBRARIES + +IX. SOME OF MY EARLY TEACHERS + + + + +PREFACE. + +The character of the opposition which some of these papers have met with +suggests the inference that they contain really important, but unwelcome +truths. Negatives multiplied into each other change their sign and +become positives. Hostile criticisms meeting together are often +equivalent to praise, and the square of fault-finding turns out to be the +same thing as eulogy. + +But a writer has rarely so many enemies as it pleases him to believe. +Self-love leads us to overrate the numbers of our negative constituency. +The larger portion of my limited circle of readers must be quite +indifferent to, if not ignorant of, the adverse opinions which have been +expressed or recorded concerning any of these Addresses or Essays now +submitted to their own judgment. It is proper, however, to inform them, +that some of the positions maintained in these pages have been +unsparingly attacked, with various degrees of ability, scholarship, and +good-breeding. The tone of criticism naturally changes with local +conditions in different parts of a country extended like our own, so that +it is one of the most convenient gauges of the partial movements in the +direction of civilization. It is satisfactory to add, that the views +assailed have also been unflinchingly defended by unsought champions, +among the ablest of whom it is pleasant to mention, at this moment of +political alienation, the Editor of the Charleston Medical Journal. + +"Currents and Counter-Currents" was written and delivered as an Oration, +a florid rhetorical composition, expressly intended to secure the +attention of an audience not easy to hold as listeners. It succeeded in +doing this, and also in being as curiously misunderstood and +misrepresented as if it had been a political harangue. This gave it more +local notoriety than it might otherwise have attained, so that, as I +learn, one ingenious person made use of its title as an advertisement to +a production of his own. + +The commonest mode of misrepresentation was this: qualified propositions, +the whole meaning of which depended on the qualifications, were stripped +of these and taken as absolute. Thus, the attempt to establish a +presumption against giving poisons to sick persons was considered as +equivalent to condemning the use of these substances. The only important +inference the writer has been able to draw from the greater number of the +refutations of his opinions which have been kindly sent him, is that the +preliminary education of the Medical Profession is not always what it +ought to be. + +One concession he is willing to make, whatever sacrifice of pride it may +involve. The story of Massasoit, which has furnished a coral, as it +were, for some teething critics, when subjected to a powerful logical +analysis, though correct in its essentials, proves to have been told with +exceptionable breadth of statement, and therefore (to resume the +metaphor) has been slightly rounded off at its edges, so as to be +smoother for any who may wish to bite upon it hereafter. In other +respects the Discourse has hardly been touched. It is only an +individual's expression, in his own way, of opinions entertained by +hundreds of the Medical Profession in every civilized country, and has +nothing in it which on revision the writer sees cause to retract or +modify. The superstitions it attacks lie at the very foundation of +Homoeopathy, and of almost every form of medical charlatanism. Still the +mere routinists and unthinking artisans in most callings dislike whatever +shakes the dust out of their traditions, and it may be unreasonable to +expect that Medicine will always prove an exception to the rule. One +half the opposition which the numerical system of Louis has met with, as +applied to the results of treatment, has been owing to the fact that it +showed the movements of disease to be far more independent of the kind of +practice pursued than was agreeable to the pride of those whose +self-confidence it abated. + +The statement, that medicines are more sparingly used in physicians' +families than in most others, admits of a very natural explanation, +without putting a harsh construction upon it, which it was not intended +to admit. Outside pressure is less felt in the physician's own +household; that is all. If this does not sometimes influence him to give +medicine, or what seems to be medicine, when among those who have more +confidence in drugging than his own family commonly has, the learned +Professor Dunglison is hereby requested to apologize for his definition +of the word Placebo, or to expunge it from his Medical Dictionary. + +One thing is certain. A loud outcry on a slight touch reveals the weak +spot in a profession, as well as in a patient. It is a doubtful policy +to oppose the freest speech in those of our own number who are trying to +show us where they honestly believe our weakness lies. Vast as are the +advances of our Science and Art, may it not possibly prove on examination +that we retain other old barbarisms beside the use of the astrological +sign of Jupiter, with which we endeavor to insure good luck to our +prescriptions? Is it the act of a friend or a foe to try to point them +out to our brethren when asked to address them, and is the speaker to +subdue the constitutional habit of his style to a given standard, under +penalty of giving offence to a grave assembly? + +"Homoeopathy and its Kindred Delusions" was published nearly twenty years +ago, and has been long out of print, so that the author tried in vain to +procure a copy until the kindness of a friend supplied him with the only +one he has had for years. A foolish story reached his ears that he was +attempting to buy up stray copies for the sake of suppressing it. This +edition was in the press at that very time. + +Many of the arguments contained in the Lectures have lost whatever +novelty they may have possessed. All its predictions have been submitted +to the formidable test of time. They appear to have stood it, so far, +about as well as most uninspired prophecies; indeed, some of them require +much less accommodation than certain grave commentators employ in their +readings of the ancient Prophets. + +If some statistics recently published are correct, Homoeopathy has made +very slow progress in Europe. + +In all England, as it appears, there are hardly a fifth more Homoeopathic +practitioners than there are students attending Lectures at the +Massachusetts Medical College at the present time. In America it has +undoubtedly proved more popular and lucrative, yet how loose a hold it +has on the public confidence is shown by the fact that, when a specially +valued life, which has been played with by one of its agents, is +seriously threatened, the first thing we expect to hear is that a regular +practitioner is by the patient's bed, and the Homoeopathic counsellor +overruled or discarded. Again, how many of the ardent and capricious +persons who embraced Homoeopathy have run the whole round of pretentious +novelties;--have been boarded at water-cure establishments, closeted with +uterine and other specialists, and finally wandered over seas to put +themselves in charge of foreign celebrities, who dosed them as lustily as +they were ever dosed before they took to globules! It will surprise many +to learn to what a shadow of a shade Homoeopathy has dwindled in the +hands of many of its noted practitioners. The itch-doctrine is treated +with contempt. Infinitesimal doses are replaced by full ones whenever +the fancy-practitioner chooses. Good Homoeopathic reasons can be found +for employing anything that anybody wants to employ. Homoeopathy is now +merely a name, an unproved theory, and a box of pellets pretending to be +specifics, which, as all of us know, fail ignominiously in those cases +where we would thankfully sacrifice all our prejudices and give the world +to have them true to their promises. + +Homoeopathy has not died out so rapidly as Tractoration. Perhaps it was +well that it should not, for it has taught us a lesson of the healing +faculty of Nature which was needed, and for which many of us have made +proper acknowledgments. But it probably does more harm than good to +medical science at the present time, by keeping up the delusion of +treating everything by specifics,--the old barbarous notion that sick +people should feed on poisons [Lachesis, arrow-poison, obtained from a +serpent (Pulte). Crotalus horridus, rattlesnake's venom (Neidhard). The +less dangerous Pediculus capitis is the favorite remedy of Dr. Mure, the +English "Apostle of Homoeopathy." These are examples of the retrograde +current setting towards barbarism] against which a part of the Discourse +at the beginning of this volume is directed. + +The infinitesimal globules have not become a curiosity as yet, like +Perkins's Tractors. But time is a very elastic element in Geology and +Prophecy. If Daniel's seventy weeks mean four hundred and ninety years, +as the learned Prideaux and others have settled it that they do, the "not +many years" of my prediction may be stretched out a generation or two +beyond our time, if necessary, when the prophecy will no doubt prove +true. + +It might be fitting to add a few words with regard to the Essay on the +Contagiousness of Puerperal Fever. But the whole question I consider to +be now transferred from the domain of medical inquiry to the +consideration of Life Insurance agencies and Grand Juries. For the +justification of this somewhat sharply accented language I must refer the +reader to the paper itself for details which I regret to have been forced +to place on permanent record. + +BOSTON, January, 1861. + + + + +A SECOND PREFACE. + +These Lectures and Essays are arranged in the order corresponding to the +date of their delivery or publication. They must, of course, be read +with a constant reference to these dates, by such as care to read them. +I have not attempted to modernize their aspect or character in presenting +them, in this somewhat altered connection, to the public. Several of +them were contained in a former volume which received its name from the +Address called "Currents and Counter-Currents." Some of those contained +in the former volume have been replaced by others. The Essay called +"Mechanism of Vital Actions" has been transferred to a distinct +collection of Miscellaneous essays, forming a separate volume. + +I had some intention of including with these papers an Essay on +Intermittent Fever in New England, which received one of the Boylston +prizes in 1837, and was published in the following year. But as this was +upon a subject of local interest, chiefly, and would have taken up a good +deal of room, I thought it best to leave it out, trusting that the stray +copies to be met with in musty book-shops would sufficiently supply the +not very extensive or urgent demand for a paper almost half a century +old. + +Some of these papers created a little stir when they first fell from the +press into the pool of public consciousness. They will slide in very +quietly now in this new edition, and find out for themselves whether the +waters are those of Lethe, or whether they are to live for a time as not +wholly unvalued reminiscences. + +March 21, 1883. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION. + +These Essays are old enough now to go alone without staff or crutch in +the shape of Prefaces. A very few words may be a convenience to the +reader who takes up the book and wishes to know what he is likely to find +in it. + + HOMOEOPATHY AND ITS KINDRED DELUSIONS. + +Homoeopathy has proved lucrative, and so long as it continues to be so +will surely exist,--as surely as astrology, palmistry, and other methods +of getting a living out of the weakness and credulity of mankind and +womankind. Though it has no pretensions to be considered as belonging +among the sciences, it may be looked upon by a scientific man as a +curious object of study among the vagaries of the human mind. Its +influence for good or the contrary may be made a matter of calm +investigation. I have studied it in the Essay before the reader, under +the aspect of an extravagant and purely imaginative creation of its +founder. Since that first essay was written, nearly half a century ago, +we have all had a chance to witness its practical working. Two opposite +inferences may be drawn from its doctrines and practice. The first is +that which is accepted by its disciples. This is that all diseases are +"cured" by drugs. The opposite conclusion is drawn by a much larger +number of persons. As they see that patients are very commonly getting +well under treatment by infinitesimal drugging, which they consider +equivalent to no medication at all, they come to disbelieve in every form +of drugging and put their whole trust in "nature." Thus experience, + + "From seeming evil still educing good," + +has shown that the dealers in this preposterous system of +pseudo-therapeutics have cooperated with the wiser class of practitioners +in breaking up the system of over-dosing and over-drugging which has been +one of the standing reproaches of medical practice. While. keeping up +the miserable delusion that diseases were all to be "cured" by drugging, +Homoeopathy has been unintentionally showing that they would very +generally get well without any drugging at all. In the mean time the +newer doctrines of the "mind cure," the "faith cure," and the rest are +encroaching on the territory so long monopolized by that most ingenious +of the pseudo-sciences. It would not be surprising if its whole ground +should be taken possession of by these new claimants with their +flattering appeals to the imaginative class of persons open to such +attacks. Similia similabus may prove fatally true for once, if +Homoeopathy is killed out by its new-born rivals. + +It takes a very moderate amount of erudition to unearth a charlatan like +the supposed father of the infinitesimal dosing system. The real +inventor of that specious trickery was an Irishman by the name of Butler. +The whole story is to be found in the "Ortus Medicinm" of Van Helmont. I +have given some account of his chapter "Butler" in different articles, +but I would refer the students of our Homoeopathic educational +institutions to the original, which they will find very interesting and +curious. + + CURRENTS AND COUNTER-CURRENTS + +My attack on over-drugging brought out some hostile comments and +treatment. Thirty years ago I expressed myself with more vivacity than I +should show if I were writing on the same subjects today. Some of my more +lively remarks called out very sharp animadversion. Thus my illustration +of prevention as often better than treatment in the mother's words to her +child which had got a poisonous berry in its mouth,--"Spit it out!" gave +mortal offence to a well-known New York practitioner and writer, who +advised the Massachusetts Medical Society to spit out the offending +speaker. Worse than this was my statement of my belief that if a +ship-load of miscellaneous drugs, with certain very important +exceptions,--drugs, many of which were then often given needlessly and in +excess, as then used "could be sunk to the bottom of the sea, it would be +all the better for mankind and all the worse for the fishes." This was +too bad. The sentence was misquoted, quoted without its qualifying +conditions, and frightened some of my worthy professional brethren as +much as if I had told them to throw all physic to the dogs. But for the +epigrammatic sting the sentiment would have been unnoticed as a harmless +overstatement at the very worst. + +Since this lecture was delivered a great and, as I think, beneficial +change has taken place in the practice of medicine. The habit of the +English "general practitioner" of making his profit out of the pills and +potions he administered was ruinous to professional advancement and the +dignity of the physician. When a half-starving medical man felt that he +must give his patient draught and boluses for which he could charge him, +he was in a pitiable position and too likely to persuade himself that his +drugs were useful to his patient because they were profitable to him. +This practice has prevailed a good deal in America, and was doubtless the +source in some measure of the errors I combated. + + THE CONTAGIOUSNESS OF PUERPERAL FEVER. + +This Essay was read before a small Association called "The Society for +Medical Improvement," and published in a Medical Journal which lasted but +a single year. It naturally attracted less attention than it would have +done if published in such a periodical as the "American Journal of +Medical Sciences." Still it had its effect, as I have every reason to +believe. I cannot doubt that it has saved the lives of many young +mothers by calling attention to the existence and propagation of +"Puerperal Fever as a Private Pestilence," and laying down rules for +taking the necessary precautions against it. The case has long been +decided in favor of the views I advocated, but, at the time when I wrote +two of the most celebrated professors of Obstetrics in this country +opposed my conclusions with all the weight of their experience and +position. + +This paper was written in a great heat and with passionate indignation. +If I touched it at all I might trim its rhetorical exuberance, but I +prefer to leave it all its original strength of expression. I could not, +if I had tried, have disguised the feelings with which I regarded the +attempt to put out of sight the frightful facts which I brought forward +and the necessary conclusions to which they led. Of course the whole +matter has been looked at in a new point of view since the microbe as a +vehicle of contagion has been brought into light, and explained the +mechanism of that which was plain enough as a fact to all who were not +blind or who did not shut their eyes. + +O. W. H. + +BEVERLY Farms, Mass., August 3, 1891 + + + + +HOMOEOPATHY AND ITS KINDRED DELUSIONS + +[Two lectures delivered before the Boston Society for the Diffusion of +Useful Knowledge. 1842.] + +[When a physician attempts to convince a person, who has fallen into the +Homoeopathic delusion, of the emptiness of its pretensions, he is often +answered by a statement of cases in which its practitioners are thought +to have effected wonderful cures. The main object of the first of these +Lectures is to show, by abundant facts, that such statements, made by +persons unacquainted with the fluctuations of disease and the fallacies +of observation, are to be considered in general as of little or no value +in establishing the truth of a medical doctrine or the utility of a +method of practice. + +Those kind friends who suggest to a person suffering from a tedious +complaint, that he "Had better try Homoeopathy," are apt to enforce their +suggestion by adding, that "at any rate it can do no harm." This may or +may not be true as regards the individual. But it always does very great +harm to the community to encourage ignorance, error, or deception in a +profession which deals with the life and health of our fellow-creatures. +Whether or not those who countenance Homoeopathy are guilty of this +injustice towards others, the second of these Lectures may afford them +some means of determining. + +To deny that good effects may happen from the observance of diet and +regimen when prescribed by Homoeopathists as well as by others, would be +very unfair to them. But to suppose that men with minds so constituted +as to accept such statements and embrace such doctrines as make up the +so-called science of Homoeopathy are more competent than others to +regulate the circumstances which influence the human body in health and +disease, would be judging very harshly the average capacity of ordinary +practitioners. + +To deny that some patients may have been actually benefited through the +influence exerted upon their imaginations, would be to refuse to +Homoeopathy what all are willing to concede to every one of those +numerous modes of practice known to all intelligent persons by an +opprobrious title. + +So long as the body is affected through the mind, no audacious device, +even of the most manifestly dishonest character, can fail of producing +occasional good to those who yield it an implicit or even a partial +faith. The argument founded on this occasional good would be as +applicable in justifying the counterfeiter and giving circulation to his +base coin, on the ground that a spurious dollar had often relieved a poor +man's necessities. + +Homoeopathy has come before our public at a period when the growing +spirit of eclecticism has prepared many ingenious and honest minds to +listen to all new doctrines with a candor liable to degenerate into +weakness. It is not impossible that the pretended evolution of great and +mysterious virtues from infinitely attenuated atoms may have enticed a +few over-refining philosophers, who have slid into a vague belief that +matter subdivided grows less material, and approaches nearer to a +spiritual nature as it requires a more powerful microscope for its +detection. + +However this may be, some persons seem disposed to take the ground of +Menzel that the Laity must pass formal judgment between the Physician and +the Homoeopathist, as it once did between Luther and the Romanists. The +practitioner and the scholar must not, therefore, smile at the amount of +time and labor expended in these Lectures upon this shadowy system; +which, in the calm and serious judgment of many of the wisest members of +the medical profession, is not entitled by anything it has ever said or +done to the notoriety of a public rebuke, still less to the honors of +critical martyrdom.] + + + +I + +I have selected four topics for this lecture, the first three of which I +shall touch but slightly, the last more fully. They are + +1. The Royal cure of the King's Evil, or Scrofula. + +2. The Weapon Ointment, and its twin absurdity, the Sympathetic Powder. + +3. The Tar-water mania of Bishop Berkeley. + +4. The History of the Metallic Tractors, or Perkinism. + +The first two illustrate the ease with which numerous facts are +accumulated to prove the most fanciful and senseless extravagances. + +The third exhibits the entire insufficiency of exalted wisdom, immaculate +honesty, and vast general acquirements to make a good physician of a +great bishop. + +The fourth shows us the intimate machinery of an extinct delusion, which +flourished only forty years ago; drawn in all its details, as being a +rich and comparatively recent illustration of the pretensions, the +arguments, the patronage, by means of which windy errors have long been, +and will long continue to be, swollen into transient consequence. All +display in superfluous abundance the boundless credulity and excitability +of mankind upon subjects connected with medicine. + +"From the time of Edward the Confessor to Queen Anne, the monarchs of +England were in the habit of touching those who were brought to them +suffering with the scrofula, for the cure of that distemper. William the +Third had good sense enough to discontinue the practice, but Anne resumed +it, and, among her other patients, performed the royal operation upon a +child, who, in spite of his, disease, grew up at last into Samuel +Johnson. After laying his hand upon the sufferers, it was customary for +the monarch to hang a gold piece around the neck of each patient. Very +strict precautions were adopted to prevent those who thought more of the +golden angel hung round the neck by a white ribbon, than of relief of +their bodily infirmities, from making too many calls, as they sometimes +attempted to do. According to the statement of the advocates and +contemporaries of this remedy, none ever failed of receiving benefit +unless their little faith and credulity starved their merits. Some are +said to have been cured immediately on the very touch, others did not so +easily get rid of their swellings, until they were touched a second time. +Several cases are related, of persons who had been blind for several +weeks, and months, and obliged even to be led to Whitehall, yet recovered +their sight immediately upon being touched, so as to walk away without +any guide." So widely, at one period, was the belief diffused, that, in +the course of twelve years, nearly a hundred thousand persons were +touched by Charles the Second. Catholic divines; in disputes upon the +orthodoxy of their church, did not deny that the power had descended to +protestant princes;--Dr. Harpsfield, in his "Ecclesiastical History of +England," admitted it, and in Wiseman's words, "when Bishop Tooker would +make use of this Argument to prove the Truth of our Church, Smitheus doth +not thereupon go about to deny the Matter of fact; nay, both he and Cope +acknowledge it." "I myself," says Wiseman, the best English surgical +writer of his day,[Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal, vol. iii. p. +103.]--"I my self have been a frequent Eye-witness of many hundred of +Cures performed by his Majesties Touch alone, without any assistance of +Chirurgery; and those, many of them such as had tired out the endeavours +of able Chirurgeons before they came hither. It were endless to recite +what I myself have seen, and what I have received acknowledgments of by +Letter, not only from the severall parts of this Nation, but also from +Ireland, Scotland, Jersey, Garnsey. It is needless also to remember what +Miracles of this nature were performed by the very Bloud of his late +Majesty of Blessed memory, after whose decollation by the inhuman +Barbarity of the Regicides, the reliques of that were gathered on Chips +and in Handkerchieffs by the pious Devotes, who could not but think so +great a suffering in so honourable and pious a Cause, would be attended +by an extraordinary assistance of God, and some more then ordinary a +miracle: nor did their Faith deceive them in this there point, being so +many hundred that found the benefit of it." [Severall Chirurgicall +Treatises. London.1676. p. 246.] + +Obstinate and incredulous men, as he tells us, accounted for these cures +in three ways: by the journey and change of air the patients obtained in +coming to London; by the influence of imagination; and the wearing of +gold. + +To these objections he answers, 1st. That many of those cured were +inhabitants of the city. 2d. That the subjects of treatment were +frequently infants. 3d. That sometimes silver was given, and sometimes +nothing, yet the patients were cured. + +A superstition resembling this probably exists at the present time in +some ignorant districts of England and this country. A writer in a +Medical Journal in the year 1807, speaks of a farmer in Devonshire, who, +being a ninth son of a ninth son, is thought endowed with healing powers +like those of ancient royalty, and who is accustomed one day in every +week to strike for the evil. + +I remember that one of my schoolmates told me, when a boy, of a seventh +son of a seventh son, somewhere in Essex County, who touched for the +scrofula, and who used to hang a silver fourpence halfpenny about the +neck of those who came to him, which fourpence halfpenny it was solemnly +affirmed became of a remarkably black color after having been some time +worn, and that his own brother had been subjected to this extraordinary +treatment; but I must add that my schoolmate drew a bow of remarkable +length, strength, and toughness for his tender years. + +One of the most curious examples of the fallacy of popular belief and the +uncertainty of asserted facts in medical experience is to be found in the +history of the UNGUENTUM ARMARIUM, or WEAPON OINTMENT. + +Fabricius Hildanus, whose name is familiar to every surgical scholar, and +Lord Bacon, who frequently dipped a little into medicine, are my +principal authorities for the few circumstances I shall mention regarding +it. The Weapon Ointment was a preparation used for the healing of +wounds, but instead of its being applied to them, the injured part was +washed and bandaged, and the weapon with which the wound was inflicted +was carefully anointed with the unguent. Empirics, ignorant barbers, and +men of that sort, are said to have especially employed it. Still there +were not wanting some among the more respectable members of the medical +profession who supported its claims. The composition of this ointment +was complicated, in the different formulae given by different +authorities; but some substances addressed to the imagination, rather +than the wound or weapon, entered into all. Such were portions of mummy, +of human blood, and of moss from the skull of a thief hung in chains. + +Hildanus was a wise and learned man, one of the best surgeons of his +time. He was fully aware that a part of the real secret of the Unguentum +Armarium consisted in the washing and bandaging the wound and then +letting it alone. But he could not resist the solemn assertions +respecting its efficacy; he gave way before the outcry of facts, and +therefore, instead of denying all their pretensions, he admitted and +tried to account for them upon supernatural grounds. As the virtue of +those applications, he says, which are made to the weapon cannot reach +the wound, and as they can produce no effect without contact, it follows, +of necessity, that the Devil must have a hand in the business; and as he +is by far the most long headed and experienced of practitioners, he +cannot find this a matter of any great difficulty. Hildanus himself +reports, in detail, the case of a lady who had received a moderate wound, +for which the Unguentum Armarium was employed without the slightest use. +Yet instead of receiving this flat case of failure as any evidence +against the remedy, he accounts for its not succeeding by the devout +character of the lady, and her freedom from that superstitious and +over-imaginative tendency which the Devil requires in those who are to be +benefited by his devices. + +Lord Bacon speaks of the Weapon Ointment, in his Natural History, as +having in its favor the testimony of men of credit, though, in his own +language, he himself "as yet is not fully inclined to believe it." His +remarks upon the asserted facts respecting it show a mixture of wise +suspicion and partial belief. He does not like the precise directions +given as to the circumstances under which the animals from which some of +the materials were obtained were to be killed; for he thought it looked +like a provision for an excuse in case of failure, by laying the fault to +the omission of some of these circumstances. But he likes well that +"they do not observe the confecting of the Ointment under any certain +constellation; which is commonly the excuse of magical medicines, when +they fail, that they were not made under a fit figure of heaven." [This +was a mistake, however, since the two recipes given by Hildanus are both +very explicit as to the aspect of the heavens required for different +stages of the process.] "It was pretended that if the offending weapon +could not be had, it would serve the purpose to anoint a wooden one made +like it." "This," says Bacon, "I should doubt to be a device to keep +this strange form of cure in request and use; because many times you +cannot come by the weapon itself." And in closing his remarks on the +statements of the advocates of the ointment, he says, "Lastly, it will +cure a beast as well as a man, which I like best of all the rest, because +it subjecteth the matter to an easy trial." It is worth remembering, +that more than two hundred years ago, when an absurd and fantastic remedy +was asserted to possess wonderful power, and when sensible persons +ascribed its pretended influence to imagination, it was boldly answered +that the cure took place when the wounded party did not know of the +application made to the weapon, and even when a brute animal was the +subject of the experiment, and that this assertion, as we all know it +was, came in such a shape as to shake the incredulity of the keenest +thinker of his time. The very same assertion has been since repeated in +favor of Perkinism, and, since that, of Homoeopathy. + +The same essential idea as that of the Weapon Ointment reproduced itself +in the still more famous SYMPATHETIC POWDER. This Powder was said to +have the faculty, if applied to the blood-stained garments of a wounded +person, to cure his injuries, even though he were at a great distance at +the time. A friar, returning from the East, brought the recipe to Europe +somewhat before the middle of the seventeenth century. The Grand Duke of +Florence, in which city the friar was residing, heard of his cures, and +tried, but without success, to obtain his secret. Sir Kenehn Digby, an +Englishman well known to fame, was fortunate enough to do him a favor, +which wrought upon his feelings and induced him to impart to his +benefactor the composition of his extraordinary Powder. This English +knight was at different periods of his life an admiral, a theologian, a +critic, a metaphysician, a politician, and a disciple of Alchemy. As is +not unfrequent with versatile and inflammable people, he caught fire at +the first spark of a new medical discovery, and no sooner got home to +England than he began to spread the conflagration. + +An opportunity soon offered itself to try the powers of the famous +powder. Mr. J. Howell, having been wounded in endeavoring to part two of +his friends who were fighting a duel, submitted himself to a trial of the +Sympathetic Powder. Four days after he received his wounds, Sir Kenehn +dipped one of Mr. Howell's gaiters in a solution of the Powder, and +immediately, it is said, the wounds, which were very painful, grew easy, +although the patient, who was conversing in a corner of the chamber, had +not, the least idea of what was doing with his garter. He then returned +home, leaving his garter in the hands of Sir Kenelm, who had hung it up +to dry, when Mr. Howell sent his servant in a great hurry to tell him +that his wounds were paining him horribly; the garter was therefore +replaced in the solution of the Powder, "and the patient got well after +five or six days of its continued immersion." + +King James First, his son Charles the First, the Duke of Buckingham, then +prime minister, and all the principal personages of the time, were +cognizant of this fact; and James himself, being curious to know the +secret of this remedy, asked it of Sir Kenelm, who revealed it to him, +and his Majesty had the opportunity of making several trials of its +efficacy, "which all succeeded in a surprising manner." [Dict. des +Sciences Medieales.] + +The king's physician, Dr. Mayerne, was made master of the secret, which +he carried to France and communicated to the Duke of Mayenne, who +performed many cures by means of it, and taught it to his surgeon, who, +after the Duke's death, sold it to many distinguished persons, by whose +agency it soon ceased to be a secret. What was this wonderful substance +which so astonished kings, princes, dukes, knights, and doctors? Nothing +but powdered blue vitriol. But it was made to undergo several processes +that conferred on it extraordinary virtues. Twice or thrice it was to be +dissolved, filtered, and crystallized. The crystals were to be laid in +the sun during the months of June, July, and August, taking care to turn +them carefully that all should be exposed. Then they were to be +powdered, triturated, and again exposed to the sun, again reduced to a +very fine powder, and secured in a vessel, while hot, from the sunshine. +If there seem anything remarkable in the fact of such astonishing +properties being developed by this process, it must be from our +short-sightedness, for common salt and charcoal develop powers quite as +marvellous after a certain number of thumps, stirs, and shakes, from the +hands of modern workers of miracles. In fact the Unguentum Armarium and +Sympathetic Powder resemble some more recent prescriptions; the latter +consisting in an infinite dilution of the common dose in which remedies +are given, and the two former in an infinite dilution of the common +distance at which they are applied. + +Whether philosophers, and more especially metaphysicians, have any +peculiar tendency to dabble in drugs and dose themselves with physic, is +a question which might suggest itself to the reader of their biographies. + +When Bishop Berkeley visited the illustrious Malebranche at Paris, he +found him in his cell, cooking in a small pipkin a medicine for an +inflammation of the lungs, from which he was suffering; and the disease, +being unfortunately aggravated by the vehemence of their discussion, or +the contents of the pipkin, carried him off in the course of a few days. +Berkeley himself afforded a remarkable illustration of a truth which has +long been known to the members of one of the learned professions, namely, +that no amount of talent, or of acquirements in other departments, can +rescue from lamentable folly those who, without something of the +requisite preparation, undertake to experiment with nostrums upon +themselves and their neighbors. The exalted character of Berkeley is +thus drawn by Sir James Mackintosh: Ancient learning, exact science, +polished society, modern literature, and the fine arts, contributed to +adorn and enrich the mind of this accomplished man. All his +contemporaries agreed with the satirist in ascribing + + "'To Berkeley every virtue under heaven.' + +"Even the discerning, fastidious, and turbulent Atterbury said, after an +interview with him, 'So much understanding, so much knowledge, so much +innocence, and such humility, I did not think had been the portion of any +but angels, till I saw this gentleman.'" + +But among the writings of this great and good man is an Essay of the most +curious character, illustrating his weakness upon the point in question, +and entitled, "Siris, a Chain of Philosophical Reflections and Inquiries +concerning the Virtues of TAR WATER, and divers other Subjects,"--an +essay which begins with a recipe for his favorite fluid, and slides by +gentle gradations into an examination of the sublimest doctrines of +Plato. To show how far a man of honesty and benevolence, and with a mind +of singular acuteness and depth, may be run away with by a favorite +notion on a subject which his habits and education do not fit him to +investigate, I shall give a short account of this Essay, merely stating +that as all the supposed virtues of Tar Water, made public in successive +editions of his treatise by so illustrious an author, have not saved it +from neglect and disgrace, it may be fairly assumed that they were mainly +imaginary. + +The bishop, as is usual in such cases, speaks of himself as indispensably +obliged, by the duty he owes to mankind, to make his experience public. +Now this was by no means evident, nor does it follow in general, that +because a man has formed a favorable opinion of a person or a thing he +has not the proper means of thoroughly understanding, he shall be bound +to print it, and thus give currency to his impressions, which may be +erroneous, and therefore injurious. He would have done much better to +have laid his impressions before some experienced physicians and +surgeons, such as Dr. Mead and Mr. Cheselden, to have asked them to try +his experiment over again, and have been guided by their answers. But +the good bishop got excited; he pleased himself with the thought that he +had discovered a great panacea; and having once tasted the bewitching cup +of self-quackery, like many before and since his time, he was so +infatuated with the draught that he would insist on pouring it down the +throats of his neighbors and all mankind. + +The precious fluid was made by stirring a gallon of water with a quart of +tar, leaving it forty-eight hours, and pouring off the clear water. Such +was the specific which the great metaphysician recommended for averting +and curing all manner of diseases. It was, if he might be believed, a +preventive of the small-pox, and of great use in the course of the +disease. It was a cure for impurities of the blood, coughs, pleurisy, +peripneumony, erysipelas, asthma, indigestion, carchexia, hysterics, +dropsy, mortification, scurvy, and hypochondria. It was of great use in +gout and fevers, and was an excellent preservative of the teeth and gums; +answered all the purpose of Elixir Proprietatis, Stoughton's drops, diet +drinks, and mineral waters; was particularly to be recommended to +sea-faring persons, ladies, and men of studious and sedentary lives; +could never be taken too long, but, on the contrary, produced advantages +which sometimes did not begin to show themselves for two or three months. + +"From my representing Tar Water as good for so many things," says +Berkeley, "some perhaps may conclude it is good for nothing. But charity +obligeth me to say what I know, and what I think, however it may be +taken. Men may censure and object as they please, but I appeal to time +and experiment. Effects misimputed, cases wrong told, circumstances +overlooked, perhaps, too, prejudices and partialities against truth, may +for a time prevail and keep her at the bottom of her well, from whence +nevertheless she emergeth sooner or later, and strikes the eyes of all +who do not keep them shut." I cannot resist the temptation of +illustrating the bishop's belief in the wonderful powers of his remedy, +by a few sentences from different parts of his essay. "The hardness of +stubbed vulgar constitutions renders them insensible of a thousand things +that fret and gall those delicate people, who, as if their skin was +peeled off, feel to the quick everything that touches them. The tender +nerves and low spirits of such poor creatures would be much relieved by +the use of Tar Water, which might prolong and cheer their lives." "It +[the Tar Water] may be made stronger for brute beasts, as horses, in +whose disorders I have found it very useful." "This same water will also +give charitable relief to the ladies, who often want it more than the +parish poor; being many of them never able to make a good meal, and +sitting pale, puny, and forbidden, like ghosts, at their own table, +victims of vapors and indigestion." It does not appear among the virtues +of Tar Water that "children cried for it," as for some of our modern +remedies, but the bishop says, "I have known children take it for above +six months together with great benefit, and without any inconvenience; +and after long and repeated experience I do esteem it a most excellent +diet drink, fitted to all seasons and ages." After mentioning its +usefulness in febrile complaints, he says: "I have had all this confirmed +by my own experience in the late sickly season of the year one thousand +seven hundred and forty-one, having had twenty-five fevers in my own +family cured by this medicinal water, drunk copiously." And to finish +these extracts with a most important suggestion for the improvement of +the British nation: "It is much to be lamented that our Insulars who act +and think so much for themselves, should yet, from grossness of air and +diet, grow stupid or doat sooner than other people, who, by virtue of +elastic air, water-drinking, and light food, preserve their faculties to +extreme old age; an advantage which may perhaps be approached, if not +equaled, even in these regions, by Tar Water, temperance, and early +hours." + +Berkeley died at the age of about seventy; he might have lived longer, +but his fatal illness was so sudden that there was not time enough to +stir up a quart of the panacea. He was an illustrious man, but he held +two very odd opinions; that tar water was everything, and that the whole +material universe was nothing. + + -------------------------- + +Most of those present have at some time in their lives heard mention made +of the METALLIC TRACTORS, invented by one Dr. Perkins, an American, and +formerly enjoying great repute for the cure of various diseases. Many +have seen or heard of a satirical poem, written by one of our own +countrymen also, about forty years since, and called "Terrible +Tractoration." The Metallic Tractors are now so utterly abandoned that I +have only by good fortune fallen upon a single one of a pair, to show for +the sake of illustration. For more than thirty years this great +discovery, which was to banish at least half the evils which afflict +humanity, has been sleeping undisturbed in the grave of oblivion. Not a +voice has, for this long period, been raised in its favor; its noble and +learned patrons, its public institutions, its eloquent advocates, its +brilliant promises are all covered with the dust of silent neglect; and +of the generation which has sprung up since the period when it +flourished, very few know anything of its history, and hardly even the +title which in its palmy days it bore of PERKINISM. Taking it as +settled, then, as no one appears to answer for it, that Perkinism is +entirely dead and gone, that both in public and private, officially and +individually, its former adherents even allow it to be absolutely +defunct, I select it for anatomical examination. If this pretended +discovery was made public; if it was long kept before the public; if it +was addressed to the people of different countries; if it was formally +investigated by scientific men, and systematically adopted by benevolent +persons, who did everything in their power to diffuse the knowledge and +practice of it; if various collateral motives, such as interest and +vanity, were embarked in its cause; if, notwithstanding all these things, +it gradually sickened and died, then the conclusion seems a fair one, +that it did not deserve to live. Contrasting its failure with its high +pretensions, it is fair to call it an imposition; whether an expressly +fraudulent contrivance or not, some might be ready to question. +Everything historically shown to have happened concerning the mode of +promulgation, the wide diffusion, the apparent success of this delusion, +the respectability and enthusiasm of its advocates, is of great interest +in showing to what extent and by what means a considerable part of the +community may be led into the belief of that which is to be eventually +considered' as an idle folly. If there is any existing folly, fraudulent +or innocent in its origin, which appeals to certain arguments for its +support; provided that the very same arguments can be shown to have been +used for Perkinism with as good reason, they will at once fall to the +ground. Still more, if it shall appear that the general course of any +existing delusion bears a strong resemblance to that of Perkinism, that +the former is most frequently advocated by the same class of persons who +were conspicuous in behalf of the latter, and treated with contempt or +opposed by the same kind of persons who thus treated Perkinism; if the +facts in favor of both have a similar aspect; if the motives of their +originators and propagators may be presumed to have been similar; then +there is every reason to suppose that the existing folly will follow in +the footsteps of the past, and after displaying a given amount of cunning +and credulity in those deceiving and deceived, will drop from the public +view like a fruit which has ripened into spontaneous rottenness, and be +succeeded by the fresh bloom of some other delusion required by the same +excitable portion of the community. + +Dr. Elisha Perkins was born at Norwich, Connecticut, in the year 1740. +He had practised his profession with a good local reputation for many +years, when he fell upon a course of experiments, as it is related, which +led to his great discovery. He conceived the idea that metallic +substances might have the effect of removing diseases, if applied in a +certain manner; a notion probably suggested by the then recent +experiments of Galvani, in which muscular contractions were found to be +produced by the contact of two metals with the living fibre. It was in +1796 that his discovery was promulgated in the shape of the Metallic +Tractors, two pieces of metal, one apparently iron and the other brass, +about three inches long, blunt at one end and pointed at the other. +These instruments were applied for the cure of different complaints, such +as rheumatism, local pains, inflammations, and even tumors, by drawing +them over the affected part very lightly for about twenty minutes. Dr. +Perkins took out a patent for his discovery, and travelled about the +country to diffuse the new practice. He soon found numerous advocates of +his discovery, many of them of high standing and influence. In the year +1798 the tractors had crossed the Atlantic, and were publicly employed in +the Royal Hospital at Copenhagen. About the same time the son of the +inventor, Mr. Benjamin Douglass Perkins, carried them to London, where +they soon attracted attention. The Danish physicians published an +account of their cases, containing numerous instances of alleged success, +in a respectable octavo volume. In the year 1804 an establishment, +honored with the name of the Perkinean Institution, was founded in +London. The transactions of this institution were published in +pamphlets, the Perkinean Society had public dinners at the Crown and +Anchor, and a poet celebrated their medical triumph in strains like +these: + + "See, pointed metals, blest with power t' appease + The ruthless rage of merciless disease, + O'er the frail part a subtle fluid pour, + Drenched with invisible Galvanic shower, + Till the arthritic staff and crutch forego, + And leap exulting like the bounding roe!" + +While all these things were going on, Mr. Benjamin Douglass Perkins was +calmly pocketing money, so that after some half a dozen years he left the +country with more than ten thousand pounds, which had been paid him by +the believers in Great Britain. But in spite of all this success, and +the number of those interested and committed in its behalf, Perkinism +soon began to decline, and in 1811 the Tractors are spoken of by an +intelligent writer as being almost forgotten. Such was the origin and +duration of this doctrine and practice, into the history of which we will +now look a little more narrowly. + +Let us see, then, by whose agency this delusion was established and kept +up; whether it was principally by those who were accustomed to medical +pursuits, or those whose habits and modes of reasoning were different; +whether it was with the approbation of those learned bodies usually +supposed to take an interest in scientific discoveries, or only of +individuals whose claims to distinction were founded upon their position +in society, or political station, or literary eminence; whether the +judicious or excitable classes entered most deeply into it; whether, in +short, the scientific men of that time were deceived, or only intruded +upon, and shouted down for the moment by persons who had no particular +call to invade their precincts. + +Not much, perhaps, was to be expected of the Medical Profession in the +way of encouragement. One Dr. Fuller, who wrote in England, himself a +Perkinist, thus expressed his opinion: "It must be an extraordinary +exertion of virtue and humanity for a medical man, whose livelihood +depends either on the sale of drugs, or on receiving a guinea for writing +a prescription, which must relate to those drugs, to say to his patient, +'You had better purchase a set of Tractors to keep in your family; they +will cure you without the expense of my attendance, or the danger of the +common medical practice.' For very obvious reasons medical men must +never be expected to recommend the use of Perkinism. The Tractors must +trust for their patronage to the enlightened and philanthropic out of the +profession, or to medical men retired from practice, and who know of no +other interest than the luxury of relieving the distressed. And I do not +despair of seeing the day when but very few of this description as well +as private families will be without them." + +Whether the motives assigned by this medical man to his professional +brethren existed or not, it is true that Dr. Perkins did not gain a great +deal at their hands. The Connecticut Medical Society expelled him in +1797 for violating their law against the use of nostrums, or secret +remedies. The leading English physicians appear to have looked on with +singular apathy or contempt at the miracles which it was pretended were +enacting in the hands of the apostles of the new practice. In looking +over the reviews of the time, I have found little beyond brief occasional +notices of their pretensions; the columns of these journals being +occupied with subjects of more permanent interest. The state of things +in London is best learned, however, from the satirical poem to which I +have already alluded as having been written at the period referred to. +This was entitled, "Terrible Tractoration!! A Poetical Petition against +Galvanizing Trumpery and the Perkinistic Institution. Most respectfully +addressed to the Royal College of Physicians, by Christopher Caustic, M. +D., LL. D., A. S. S., Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, +Aberdeen, and Honorary Member of no less than nineteen very learned +Societies." Two editions of this work were published in London in the +years 1803 and 1804, and one or two have been published in this country. + +"Terrible Tractoration" is supposed, by those who never read it, to be a +satire upon the follies of Perkins and his followers. It is, on the +contrary, a most zealous defence of Perkinism, and a fierce attack upon +its opponents, most especially upon such of the medical profession as +treated the subject with neglect or ridicule. The Royal College of +Physicians was the more peculiar object of the attack, but with this +body, the editors of some of the leading periodicals, and several +physicians distinguished at that time, and even now remembered for their +services to science and humanity, were involved in unsparing +denunciations. The work is by no means of the simply humorous character +it might be supposed, but is overloaded with notes of the most seriously +polemical nature. Much of the history of the subject, indeed, is to be +looked for in this volume. + +It appears from this work that the principal members of the medical +profession, so far from hailing Mr. Benjamin Douglass Perkins as another +Harvey or Jenner, looked very coldly upon him and his Tractors; and it is +now evident that, though they were much abused for so doing, they knew +very well what they had to deal with, and were altogether in the right. +The delusion at last attracted such an amount of attention as to induce +Dr. Haygarth and some others of respectable standing to institute some +experiments which I shall mention in their proper place, the result of +which might have seemed sufficient to show the emptiness of the whole +contrivance. + +The Royal Society, that learned body which for ages has constituted the +best tribunal to which Britain can appeal in questions of science, +accepted Mr. Perkins's Tractors and the book written about them, passed +the customary vote of thanks, and never thought of troubling itself +further in the investigation of pretensions of such an aspect. It is not +to be denied that a considerable number of physicians did avow themselves +advocates of the new practice; but out of the whole catalogue of those +who were publicly proclaimed as such, no one has ever been known, so far +as I am aware, to the scientific world, except in connection with the +short-lived notoriety of Perkinism. Who were the people, then, to whose +activity, influence, or standing with the community was owing all the +temporary excitement produced by the Metallic Tractors? + +First, those persons who had been induced to purchase a pair of Tractors. +These little bits of brass and iron, the intrinsic value of which might, +perhaps, amount to ninepence, were sold at five guineas a pair! A man +who has paid twenty-five dollars for his whistle is apt to blow it louder +and longer than other people. So it appeared that when the "Perkinean +Society" applied to the possessors of Tractors in the metropolis to +concur in the establishment of a public institution for the use of these +instruments upon the poor, "it was found that only five out of above a +hundred objected to subscribe, on account of their want of confidence in +the efficacy of the practice; and these," the committee observes, "there +is reason to believe, never gave them a fair trial, probably never used +them in more than one case, and that perhaps a case in which the Tractors +had never been recommended as serviceable." "Purchasers of the +Tractors," said one of their ardent advocates, "would be among the last +to approve of them if they had reason to suppose themselves defrauded of +five guineas." He forgot poor Moses, with his "gross of green +spectacles, with silver rims and shagreen cases." "Dear mother," cried +the boy, "why won't you listen to reason? I had them a dead bargain, or +I should not have bought them. The silver rims alone will sell for +double the money." + +But it is an undeniable fact, that many persons of considerable standing, +and in some instances holding the most elevated positions in society, +openly patronized the new practice. In a translation of a work entitled +"Experiments with the Metallic Tractors," originally published in Danish, +thence rendered successively into German and English, Mr. Benjamin +Perkins, who edited the English edition, has given a copious enumeration +of the distinguished individuals, both in America and Europe, whose +patronage he enjoyed. He goes so far as to signify that ROYALTY itself +was to be included among the number. When the Perkinean Institution was +founded, no less a person than Lord Rivers was elected President, and +eleven other individuals of distinction, among them Governor Franklin, +son of Dr. Franklin, figured as Vice-Presidents. Lord Henniker, a member +of the Royal Society, who is spoken of as a man of judgment and talents, +condescended to patronize the astonishing discovery, and at different +times bought three pairs of Tractors. When the Tractors were introduced +into Europe, a large number of testimonials accompanied them from various +distinguished characters in America, the list of whom is given in the +translation of the Danish work referred to as follows: + +"Those who have individually stated cases, or who have presented their +names to the public as men who approved of this remedy, and acknowledged +themselves instrumental in circulating the Tractors, are fifty-six in +number; thirty-four of whom are physicians and surgeons, and many of them +of the first eminence, thirteen clergymen, most of whom are doctors of +divinity, and connected with the literary institutions of America; among +the remainder are two members of Congress, one professor of natural +philosophy in a college, etc., etc." It seemed to be taken rather hardly +by Mr. Perkins that the translators of the work which he edited, in +citing the names of the advocates of the Metallic Practice, frequently +omitted the honorary titles which should have been annexed. The +testimonials were obtained by the Danish writer, from a pamphlet +published in America, in which these titles were given in full. Thus one +of these testimonials is from "John Tyler, Esq., a magistrate in the +county of New London, and late Brigadier-General of the militia in that +State." The "omission of the General's title" is the subject of +complaint, as if this title were sufficient evidence of the commanding +powers of one of the patrons of tractoration. A similar complaint is +made when "Calvin Goddard, Esq., of Plainfield, Attorney at Law, and a +member of the Legislature of the State of Connecticut," is mentioned +without his titular honors, and even on account of the omission of the +proper official titles belonging to "Nathan Pierce, Esq., Governor and +Manager of the Almshouse of Newburyport." These instances show the great +importance to be attached to civil and military dignities, in qualifying +their holders to judge of scientific subjects, a truth which has not been +overlooked by the legitimate successors of the Perkinists. In Great +Britain, the Tractors were not less honored than in America, by the +learned and the illustrious. The "Perkinistic Committee" made this +statement in their report: "Mr. Perkins has annually laid before the +public a large collection of new cases communicated to him for that +purpose by disinterested and intelligent characters, from almost every +quarter of Great Britain. In regard to the competency of these vouchers, +it will be sufficient simply to state that, amongst others whose names +have been attached to their communications, are eight professors, in four +different universities, twenty-one regular Physicians, nineteen Surgeons, +thirty Clergymen, twelve of whom are Doctors of Divinity, and numerous +other characters of equal respectability." + +It cannot but excite our notice and surprise that the number of clergymen +both in America and Great Britain who thrust forward their evidence on +this medical topic was singularly large in proportion to that of the +members of the medical profession. Whole pages are contributed by such +worthies as the Rev. Dr. Trotter of Hans Place, the Rear. Waring +Willett, Chaplain to the Earl of Dunmore, the Rev. Dr. Clarke, Chaplain +to the Prince of Wales. The style of these theologico-medical +communications may be seen in the following from a divine who was also +professor in one of the colleges of New England. "I have used the +Tractors with success in several other cases in my own family, and +although, like Naaman the Syrian, I cannot tell why the waters of Jordan +should be better than Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus; yet since +experience has proved them so, no reasoning can change the opinion. +Indeed, the causes of all common facts are, we think, perfectly well +known to us; and it is very probable, fifty or a hundred years hence, we +shall as well know why the Metallic Tractors should in a few minutes +remove violent pains, as we now know why cantharides and opium will +produce opposite effects, namely, we shall know very little about either +excepting facts." Fifty or a hundred years hence! if he could have +looked forward forty years, he would have seen the descendants of the +"Perkinistic" philosophers swallowing infinitesimal globules, and knowing +and caring as much about the Tractors as the people at Saratoga Springs +do about the waters of Abana and Pharpar. + +I trust it will not be thought in any degree disrespectful to a +profession which we all honor, that I have mentioned the great zeal of +many clergymen in the cause of Perkinism. I hope, too, that I may +without offence suggest the causes which have often led them out of their +own province into one to which their education has no special reference. +The members of that profession ought to be, and commonly are, persons of +benevolent character. Their duties carry them into the midst of +families, and particularly at times when the members of them are +suffering from bodily illness. It is natural enough that a strong desire +should be excited to alleviate sufferings which may have defied the +efforts of professional skill; as natural that any remedy which +recommends itself to the belief or the fancy of the spiritual physician +should be applied with the hope of benefit; and perfectly certain that +the weakness of human nature, from which no profession is exempt, will +lead him to take the most flattering view of its effects upon the +patient; his own sagacity and judgment being staked upon the success of +the trial. The inventor of the Tractors was aware of these truths. He +therefore sent the Tractors gratuitously to many clergymen, accompanied +with a formal certificate that the holder had become entitled to their +possession by the payment of five guineas. This was practised in our own +neighborhood, and I remember finding one of these certificates, so +presented, which proved that amongst the risks of infancy I had to +encounter Perkins's Tractors. Two clergymen of Boston and the vicinity, +both well known to local fame, gave in their testimony to the value of +the instruments thus presented to them; an unusually moderate proportion, +when it is remembered that to the common motives of which I have spoken +was added the seduction of a gift for which the profane public was +expected to pay so largely. + +It was remarkable, also, that Perkinism, which had so little success with +the medical and scientific part of the community, found great favor in +the eyes of its more lovely and less obstinate portion. "The lady of +Major Oxholin,"--I quote from Mr. Perkins's volume,--"having been lately +in America, had seen and heard much of the great effects of Perkinism. +Influenced by a most benevolent disposition, she brought these Tractors +and the pamphlet with her to Europe, with a laudable desire of extending +their utility to her suffering countrymen." Such was the channel by +which the Tractors were conveyed to Denmark, where they soon became the +ruling passion. The workmen, says a French writer, could not manufacture +them fast enough. Women carried them about their persons, and delighted +in bringing them into general use. To what extent the Tractors were +favored with the patronage of English and American ladies, it is of +course not easy to say, except on general principles, as their names were +not brought before the public. But one of Dr. Haygarth's stories may +lead us to conjecture that there was a class of female practitioners who +went about doing good with the Tractors in England as well as in Denmark. +A certain lady had the misfortune to have a spot as big as a silver penny +at the corner of her eye, caused by a bruise, or some such injury. +Another lady, who was a friend of hers, and a strong believer in +Perkinism, was very anxious to try the effects of tractoration upon this +unfortunate blemish. The patient consented; the lady "produced the +instruments, and, after drawing them four or five times over the spot, +declared that it changed to a paler color, and on repeating the use of +them a few minutes longer, that it had almost vanished, and was scarcely +visible, and departed in high triumph at her success." The lady who +underwent the operation assured the narrator "that she looked in the +glass immediately after, and that not the least visible alteration had +taken place." + +It would be a very interesting question, what was the intellectual +character of those persons most conspicuous in behalf of the Perkinistic +delusion? Such an inquiry might bring to light some principles which we +could hereafter apply to the study of other popular errors. But the +obscurity into which nearly all these enthusiasts have subsided renders +the question easier to ask than to answer. I believe it would have been +found that most of these persons were of ardent temperament and of +considerable imagination, and that their history would show that +Perkinism was not the first nor the last hobby-horse they rode furiously. +Many of them may very probably have been persons of more than common +talent, of active and ingenious minds, of versatile powers and various +acquirements. Such, for instance, was the estimable man to whom I have +repeatedly referred as a warm defender of tractoration, and a bitter +assailant of its enemies. The story tells itself in the biographical +preface to his poem. He went to London with the view of introducing a +hydraulic machine, which he and his Vermont friends regarded as a very +important invention. He found, however, that the machine was already in +common use in that metropolis. A brother Yankee, then in London, had +started the project of a mill, which was to be carried by the water of +the Thames. He was sanguine enough to purchase one fifth of this +concern, which also proved a failure. At about the same period he wrote +the work which proved the great excitement of his mind upon the subject +of the transient folly then before the public. Originally a lawyer, he +was in succession a mechanician, a poet, and an editor, meeting with far +less success in each of these departments than usually attends men of +less varied gifts, but of more tranquil and phlegmatic composition. But +who is ignorant that there is a class of minds characterized by qualities +like those I have mentioned; minds with many bright and even beautiful +traits; but aimless and fickle as the butterfly; that settle upon every +gayly-colored illusion as it opens into flower, and flutter away to +another when the first has dropped its leaves, and stands naked in the +icy air of truth! + +Let us now look at the general tenor of the arguments addressed by +believers to sceptics and opponents. Foremost of all, emblazoned at the +head of every column, loudest shouted by every triumphant disputant, held +up as paramount to all other considerations, stretched like an +impenetrable shield to protect the weakest advocate of the great cause +against the weapons of the adversary, was that omnipotent monosyllable +which has been the patrimony of cheats and the currency of dupes from +time immemorial,--Facts! Facts! Facts! First came the published cases +of the American clergymen, brigadier-generals, almshouse governors, +representatives, attorneys, and esquires. Then came the published cases +of the surgeons of Copenhagen. Then followed reports of about one +hundred and fifty cases published in England, "demonstrating the efficacy +of the metallic practice in a variety of complaints both upon the human +body and on horses, etc." But the progress of facts in Great Britain did +not stop here. Let those who rely upon the numbers of their +testimonials, as being alone sufficient to prove the soundness and +stability of a medical novelty, digest the following from the report of +the Perkinistic Committee. "The cases published [in Great Britain] +amounted, in March last, the date of Mr. Perkins's last publication, to +about five thousand. Supposing that not more than one cure in three +hundred which the Tractors have performed has been published, and the +proportion is probably much greater, it will be seen that the number, to +March last, will have exceeded one million five hundred thousand!" + +Next in order after the appeal to what were called facts, came a series +of arguments, which have been so long bruised and battered round in the +cause of every doctrine or pretension, new, monstrous, or deliriously +impossible, that each of them is as odiously familiar to the scientific +scholar as the faces of so many old acquaintances, among the less +reputable classes, to the officers of police. + +No doubt many of my hearers will recognize, in the following passages, +arguments they may have heard brought forward with triumphant confidence +in behalf of some doctrine not yet extinct. No doubt some may have +honestly thought they proved something; may have used them with the +purpose of convincing their friends, or of silencing the opponents of +their favorite doctrine, whatever that might be. But any train of +arguments which was contrived for Perkinism, which was just as applicable +to it as to any other new doctrine in the same branch of science, and +which was fully employed against its adversaries forty years since, +might, in common charity, be suffered to slumber in the grave of +Perkinism. Whether or not the following sentences, taken literally from +the work of Mr. Perkins, were the originals of some of the idle +propositions we hear bandied about from time to time, let those who +listen judge. + +The following is the test assumed for the new practice: "If diseases are +really removed, as those persons who have practised extensively with the +Tractors declare, it should seem there would be but little doubt of their +being generally adopted; but if the numerous reports of their efficacy +which have been published are forgeries, or are unfounded, the practice +ought to be crushed." To this I merely add, it has been crushed. + +The following sentence applies to that a priori judging and uncandid +class of individuals who buy their dinners without tasting all the food +there is in the market. "On all discoveries there are persons who, +without descending to any inquiry into the truth, pretend to know, as it +were by intuition, that newly asserted facts are founded in the grossest +errors. These were those who knew that Harvey's report of the +circulation of the blood was a preposterous and ridiculous suggestion, +and in latter later days there were others who knew that Franklin +deserved reproach for declaring that points were preferable to balls for +protecting buildings from lightning." + +Again: "This unwarrantable mode of offering assertion for proof, so +unauthorized and even unprecedented except in the condemnation of a +Galileo, the persecution of a Copernicus, and a few other acts of +inquisitorial authority, in the times of ignorance and superstition, +affords but a lamentable instance of one of his remarks, that this is far +from being the Age of Reason." + +"The most valuable medicines in the Materia Medica act on principles of +which we are totally ignorant. None have ever yet been able to explain +how opium produces sleep, or how bark cures intermittent fevers; and yet +few, it is hoped, will be so absurd as to desist from the use of these +important articles because they know nothing of the principle of their +operations." Or if the argument is preferred, in the eloquent language +of the Perkinistic poet: + + "What though the CAUSES may not be explained, + Since these EFFECTS are duly ascertained, + Let not self-interest, prejudice, or pride, + Induce mankind to set the means aside; + Means which, though simple, are by + Heaven designed to alleviate the woes of human kind." + +This course of argument is so often employed, that it deserves to be +expanded a little, so that its length and breadth may be fairly seen. A +series of what are called facts is brought forward to prove some very +improbable doctrine. It is objected by judicious people, or such as have +devoted themselves to analogous subjects, that these assumed facts are in +direct opposition to all that is known of the course of nature, that the +universal experience of the past affords a powerful presumption against +their truth, and that in proportion to the gravity of these objections, +should be the number and competence of the witnesses. The answer is a +ready one. What do we know of the mysteries of Nature? Do we understand +the intricate machinery of the Universe? When to this is added the +never-failing quotation, + + "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, + Than are dreamt of in your philosophy,"-- + +the question is thought to be finally disposed of. + +Take the case of astrology as an example. It is in itself strange and +incredible that the relations of the heavenly bodies to each other at a +given moment of time, perhaps half a century ago, should have anything to +do with my success or misfortune in any undertaking of to-day. But what +right have I to say it cannot be so? Can I bind the sweet influences of +Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion? I do not know by what mighty +magic the planets roll in their fluid paths, confined to circles as +unchanging as if they were rings of steel, nor why the great wave of +ocean follows in a sleepless round upon the skirts of moonlight; nor cam +I say from any certain knowledge that the phases of the heavenly bodies, +or even the falling of the leaves of the forest, or the manner in which +the sands lie upon the sea-shore, may not be knit up by invisible threads +with the web of human destiny. There is a class of minds much more ready +to believe that which is at first sight incredible, and because it is +incredible, than what is generally thought reasonable. Credo quia +impossibile est,--"I believe, because it is impossible,"--is an old +paradoxical expression which might be literally applied to this tribe of +persons. And they always succeed in finding something marvellous, to call +out the exercise of their robust faith. The old Cabalistic teachers +maintained that there was not a verse, line, word, or even letter in the +Bible which had not a special efficacy either to defend the person who +rightly employed it, or to injure his enemies; always provided the +original Hebrew was made use of. In the hands of modern Cabalists every +substance, no matter how inert, acquires wonderful medicinal virtues, +provided it be used in a proper state of purity and subdivision. + +I have already mentioned the motives attributed by the Perkinists to the +Medical Profession, as preventing its members from receiving the new but +unwelcome truths. This accusation is repeated in different forms and +places, as, for instance, in the following passage: "Will the medical man +who has spent much money and labor in the pursuit of the arcana of +Physic, and on the exercise of which depends his support in life, +proclaim the inefficacy of his art, and recommend a remedy to his patient +which the most unlettered in society can employ as advantageously as +himself? and a remedy, too, which, unlike the drops, the pills, the +powders, etc., of the Materia Medica, is inconsumable, and ever in +readiness to be employed in successive diseases?" + +As usual with these people, much indignation was expressed at any +parallel between their particular doctrine and practice and those of +their exploded predecessors. "The motives," says the disinterested Mr. +Perkins, "which must have impelled to this attempt at classing the +METALLIC PRACTICE with the most paltry of empyrical projects, are but too +thinly veiled to escape detection." + +To all these arguments was added, as a matter of course, an appeal to the +feelings of the benevolent in behalf of suffering humanity, in the shape +of a notice that the poor would be treated gratis. It is pretty well +understood that this gratuitous treatment of the poor does not +necessarily imply an excess of benevolence, any more than the gratuitous +distribution of a trader's shop-bills is an evidence of remarkable +generosity; in short, that it is one of those things which honest men +often do from the best motives, but which rogues and impostors never fail +to announce as one of their special recommendations. It is astonishing +to see how these things brighten up at the touch of Mr. Perkins's poet: + + "Ye worthy, honored, philanthropic few, + The muse shall weave her brightest wreaths for you, + Who in Humanity's bland cause unite, + Nor heed the shaft by interest aimed or spite; + Like the great Pattern of Benevolence, + Hygeia's blessings to the poor dispense; + And though opposed by folly's servile brood, + ENJOY THE LUXURY OF DOING GOOD." + +Having thus sketched the history of Perkinism in its days of prosperity; +having seen how it sprung into being, and by what means it maintained its +influence, it only remains to tell the brief story of its discomfiture +and final downfall. The vast majority of the sensible part of the +medical profession were contented, so far as we can judge, to let it die +out of itself. It was in vain that the advocates of this invaluable +discovery exclaimed over their perverse and interested obstinacy,--in +vain that they called up the injured ghosts of Harvey, Galileo, and +Copernicus to shame that unbelieving generation; the Baillies and the +Heberdens,--men whose names have come down to us as synonymous with honor +and wisdom,--bore their reproaches in meek silence, and left them +unanswered to their fate. There were some others, however, who, believing +the public to labor under a delusion, thought it worth while to see +whether the charm would be broken by an open trial of its virtue, as +compared with that of some less hallowed formula. It must be remembered +that a peculiar value was attached to the Metallic Tractors, as made and +patented by Mr. Perkins. Dr. Haygarth, of Bath, performed various +experiments upon patients afflicted with different complaints,--the +patients supposing that the real five-guinea Tractors were employed. +Strange to relate, he obtained equally wonderful effects with Tractors of +lead and of wood; with nails, pieces of bone, slate pencil, and +tobacco-pipe. Dr. Alderson employed sham Tractors made of wood, and +produced such effects upon five patients that they returned solemn thanks +in church for their cures. A single specimen of these cases may stand +for all of them. Ann Hill had suffered for some months from pain in the +right arm and shoulder. The Tractors (wooden ones) were applied, and in +the space of five minutes she expressed herself relieved in the following +apostrophe: "Bless me! why, who could have thought it, that them little +things could pull the pain from one. Well, to be sure, the longer one +lives, the more one sees; ah, dear!" + +These experiments did not result in the immediate extinction of +Perkinism. Doubtless they were a great comfort to many obstinate +unbelievers, and helped to settle some sceptical minds; but for the real +Perkinistic enthusiasts, it may be questioned whether they would at that +time have changed their opinion though one had risen from the dead to +assure them that it was an error. It perished without violence, by an +easy and natural process. Like the famous toy of Mongolfier, it rose by +means of heated air,--the fevered breath of enthusiastic ignorance,--and +when this grew cool, as it always does in a little while, it collapsed +and fell. + +And now, on reviewing the whole subject, how shall we account for the +extraordinary prevalence of the belief in Perkinism among a portion of +what is supposed to be the thinking part of the community? + +Could the cures have been real ones, produced by the principle of ANIMAL +MAGNETISM? To this it may be answered that the Perkinists ridiculed the +idea of approximating Mesmer and the founder of their own doctrine, that +nothing like the somnambulic condition seems to have followed the use of +the Tractors, and that neither the exertion of the will nor the powers of +the individual who operated seem to have been considered of any +consequence. Besides, the absolute neglect into which the Tractors soon +declined is good evidence that they were incapable of affording any +considerable and permanent relief in the complaints for the cure of which +they were applied. + +Of course a large number of apparent cures were due solely to nature; +which is true under every form of treatment, orthodox or empirical. Of +course many persons experienced at least temporary relief from the strong +impression made upon their minds by this novel and marvellous method of +treatment. + +Many, again, influenced by the sanguine hopes of those about them, like +dying people, who often say sincerely, from day to day, that they are +getting better, cheated themselves into a false and short-lived belief +that they were cured; and as happens in such cases, the public never knew +more than the first half of the story. + +When it was said to the Perkinists, that whatever effects they produced +were merely through the imagination, they declared (like the advocates of +the ROYAL TOUCH and the UNGUENTUM ARMARIUM) that this explanation was +sufficiently disproved by the fact of numerous and successful cures which +had been witnessed in infants and brute animals. Dr. Haygarth replied to +this, that "in these cases it is not the Patient, but the Observer, who +is deceived by his own imagination," and that such may be the fact, we +have seen in the case of the good lady who thought she had conjured away +the spot from her friend's countenance, when it remained just as before. + +As to the motives of the inventor and vender of the Tractors, the facts +must be allowed to speak for themselves. But when two little bits of +brass and iron are patented, as an invention, as the result of numerous +experiments, when people are led, or even allowed, to infer that they are +a peculiar compound, when they are artfully associated with a new and +brilliant discovery (which then happened to be Galvanism), when they are +sold at many hundred times their value, and the seller prints his opinion +that a Hospital will suffer inconvenience, "unless it possesses many sets +of the Tractors, and these placed in the hands of the patients to +practise on each other," one cannot but suspect that they were contrived +in the neighborhood of a wooden nutmeg factory; that legs of ham in that +region are not made of the best mahogany; and that such as buy their +cucumber seed in that vicinity have to wait for the fruit as long as the +Indians for their crop of gunpowder. + + -------------------------- + +The succeeding lecture will be devoted to an examination of the doctrines +of Samuel Hahnemann and his disciples; doctrines which some consider new +and others old; the common title of which is variously known as +Ho-moeopathy, Homoe-op-athy, Homoeo-paith-y, or Hom'pathy, and the claims +of which are considered by some as infinitely important, and by many as +immeasurably ridiculous. + +I wish to state, for the sake of any who may be interested in the +subject, that I shall treat it, not by ridicule, but by argument; perhaps +with great freedom, but with good temper and in peaceable language; with +very little hope of reclaiming converts, with no desire of making +enemies, but with a firm belief that its pretensions and assertions +cannot stand before a single hour of calm investigation. + + + + +II. + +It may be thought that a direct attack upon the pretensions of +HOMOEOPATHY is an uncalled-for aggression upon an unoffending doctrine +and its peaceful advocates. + +But a little inquiry will show that it has long assumed so hostile a +position with respect to the Medical Profession, that any trouble I, or +any other member of that profession, may choose to bestow upon it may be +considered merely as a matter of self-defence. It began with an attempt +to show the insignificance of all existing medical knowledge. It not +only laid claim to wonderful powers of its own, but it declared the +common practice to be attended with the most positively injurious +effects, that by it acute diseases are aggravated, and chronic diseases +rendered incurable. It has at various times brought forward collections +of figures having the air of statistical documents, pretending to show a +great proportional mortality among the patients of the Medical +Profession, as compared with those treated according to its own rules. +Not contented with choosing a name of classical origin for itself, it +invented one for the whole community of innocent physicians, assuring +them, to their great surprise, that they were all ALLOPATHISTS, whether +they knew it or not, and including all the illustrious masters of the +past, from Hippocrates down to Hunter, under the same gratuitous title. +The line, then, has been drawn by the champions of the new doctrine; they +have lifted the lance, they have sounded the charge, and are responsible +for any little skirmishing which may happen. + +But, independently of any such grounds of active resistance, the subject +involves interests so disproportioned to its intrinsic claims, that it is +no more than an act of humanity to give it a public examination. If the +new doctrine is not truth, it is a dangerous, a deadly error. If it is a +mere illusion, and acquires the same degree of influence that we have +often seen obtained by other illusions, there is not one of my audience +who may not have occasion to deplore the fatal credulity which listened +to its promises. + +I shall therefore undertake a sober examination of its principles, its +facts, and some points of its history. The limited time at my disposal +requires me to condense as much as possible what I have to say, but I +shall endeavor to be plain and direct in expressing it. Not one statement +shall be made which cannot be supported by unimpeachable reference: not +one word shall be uttered which I am not as willing to print as to speak. +I have no quibbles to utter, and I shall stoop to answer none; but, with +full faith in the sufficiency of a plain statement of facts and reasons, +I submit the subject to the discernment of my audience. + +The question may be asked in the outset,--Have you submitted the +doctrines you are professing to examine to the test of long-repeated and +careful experiment; have you tried to see whether they were true or not? +To this I answer, that it is abundantly evident, from what has often +happened, that it would be of no manner of use for me to allege the +results of any experiments I might have instituted. Again and again have +the most explicit statements been made by the most competent persons of +the utter failure of all their trials, and there were the same abundant +explanations offered as used to be for the Unguentum Armarium and the +Metallic Tractors. I could by no possibility perform any experiments the +result of which could not be easily explained away so as to be of no +conclusive significance. Besides, as arguments in favor of Homoeopathy +are constantly addressed to the public in journals, pamphlets, and even +lectures, by inexperienced dilettanti, the same channel must be open to +all its opponents. + +It is necessary, for the sake of those to whom the whole subject may be +new, to give in the smallest possible compass the substance of the +Homoeopathic Doctrine. Samuel Hahnemann, its founder, is a German +physician, now living in Paris, [Hahnemann died in 1843.] at the age of +eighty-seven years. In 1796 he published the first paper containing his +peculiar notions; in 1805 his first work on the subject; in 1810 his +somewhat famous "Organon of the Healing Art;" the next year what he +called the "Pure Materia Medica;" and in 1828 his last work, the +"Treatise on Chronic Diseases." He has therefore been writing at +intervals on his favorite subject for nearly half a century. + +The one great doctrine which constitutes the basis of Homoeopathy as a +system is expressed by the Latin aphorism, + + "SIMILIA SIBILIBUS CURANTUR," + +or like cures like, that is, diseases are cured by agents capable of +producing symptoms resembling those found in the disease under treatment. +A disease for Hahnemann consists essentially in a group of symptoms. The +proper medicine for any disease is the one which is capable of producing +a similar group of symptoms when given to a healthy person. + +It is of course necessary to know what are the trains of symptoms excited +by different substances, when administered to persons in health, if any +such can be shown to exist. Hahnemann and his disciples give catalogues +of the symptoms which they affirm were produced upon themselves or others +by a large number of drugs which they submitted to experiment. + +The second great fact which Hahnemann professes to have established is +the efficacy of medicinal substances reduced to a wonderful degree of +minuteness or dilution. The following account of his mode of preparing +his medicines is from his work on Chronic Diseases, which has not, I +believe, yet been translated into English. A grain of the substance, if +it is solid, a drop if it is liquid, is to be added to about a third part +of one hundred grains of sugar of milk in an unglazed porcelain capsule +which has had the polish removed from the lower part of its cavity by +rubbing it with wet sand; they are to be mingled for an instant with a +bone or horn spatula, and then rubbed together for six minutes; then the +mass is to be scraped together from the mortar and pestle, which is to +take four minutes; then to be again rubbed for six minutes. Four minutes +are then to be devoted to scraping the powder into a heap, and the second +third of the hundred grains of sugar of milk to be added. Then they are +to be stirred an instant and rubbed six minutes,--again to be scraped +together four minutes and forcibly rubbed six; once more scraped together +for four minutes, when the last third of the hundred grains of sugar of +milk is to be added and mingled by stirring with the spatula; six minutes +of forcible rubbing, four of scraping together, and six more (positively +the last six) of rubbing, finish this part of the process. + +Every grain of this powder contains the hundredth of a grain of the +medicinal substance mingled with the sugar of milk. If, therefore, a +grain of the powder just prepared is mingled with another hundred grains +of sugar of milk, and the process just described repeated, we shall have +a powder of which every grain contains the hundredth of the hundredth, or +the ten thousandth part of a grain of the medicinal substance. Repeat +the same process with the same quantity of fresh sugar of milk, and every +grain of your powder will contain the millionth of a grain of the +medicinal substance. When the powder is of this strength, it is ready to +employ in the further solutions and dilutions to be made use of in +practice. + +A grain of the powder is to be taken, a hundred drops of alcohol are to +be poured on it, the vial is to be slowly turned for a few minutes, until +the powder is dissolved, and two shakes are to be given to it. On this +point I will quote Hahnemann's own words. "A long experience and +multiplied observations upon the sick lead me within the last few years +to prefer giving only two shakes to medicinal liquids, whereas I formerly +used to give ten." The process of dilution is carried on in the same way +as the attenuation of the powder was done; each successive dilution with +alcohol reducing the medicine to a hundredth part of the quantity of that +which preceded it. In this way the dilution of the original millionth of +a grain of medicine contained in the grain of powder operated on is +carried successively to the billionth, trillionth, quadrillionth, +quintillionth, and very often much higher fractional divisions. A dose +of any of these medicines is a minute fraction of a drop, obtained by +moistening with them one or more little globules of sugar, of which +Hahnemann says it takes about two hundred to weigh a grain. + +As an instance of the strength of the medicines prescribed by Hahnemann, +I will mention carbonate of lime. He does not employ common chalk, but +prefers a little portion of the friable part of an oystershell. Of this +substance, carried to the sextillionth degree, so much as one or two +globules of the size mentioned can convey is a common dose. But for +persons of very delicate nerves it is proper that the dilution should be +carried to the decillionth degree. That is, an important medicinal +effect is to be expected from the two hundredth or hundredth part of the +millionth of the millionth of the millionth of the millionth of the +millionth of the millionth of the millionth of the millionth of the +millionth of the millionth of a grain of oyster-shell. This is only the +tenth degree of potency, but some of his disciples profess to have +obtained palpable effects from "much higher dilutions." + +The third great doctrine of Hahnemann is the following. Seven eighths at +least of all chronic diseases are produced by the existence in the system +of that infectious disorder known in the language of science by the +appellation of PSORA, but to the less refined portion of the community by +the name of ITCH. In the words of Hahnemann's "Organon," "This Psora is +the sole true and fundamental cause that produces all the other countless +forms of disease, which, under the names of nervous debility, hysteria, +hypochondriasis, insanity, melancholy, idiocy, madness, epilepsy, and +spasms of all kinds, softening of the bones, or rickets, scoliosis and +cyphosis, caries, cancer, fungua haematodes, gout,--yellow jaundice and +cyanosis, dropsy,--" + +["The degrees of DILUTION must not be confounded with those of POTENCY. +Their relations may be seen by this table: + +lst dilution,--One hundredth of a drop or grain. + +2d " One ten thousandth. + +3d " One millionth, marked I. + +4th " One hundred millionth. + +5th " One ten thousand millionth. + +6th " One million millionth, or one billionth, marked II. + +7th " One hundred billionth. + +8th " One ten thousand billionth. + +9th " One million billionth, or one trillionth, marked III. + +10th " One hundred trillionth. + +11th " One ten thousand trillionth. + +12th " One million trillionth, or one quadrillionth, marked + IV.,--and so on indefinitely. + +The large figures denote the degrees of POTENCY.] + +"gastralgia, epistaxis, haemoptysis,--asthma and suppuration of the +lungs,--megrim, deafness, cataract and amaurosis,--paralysis, loss of +sense, pains of every kind, etc., appear in our pathology as so many +peculiar, distinct, and independent diseases." + +For the last three centuries, if the same authority may be trusted, under +the influence of the more refined personal habits which have prevailed, +and the application of various external remedies which repel the +affection from the skin; Psora has revealed itself in these numerous +forms of internal disease, instead of appearing, as in former periods, +under the aspect of an external malady. + +These are the three cardinal doctrines of Hahnemann, as laid down in +those standard works of Homoeopathy, the "Organon" and the "Treatise on +Chronic Diseases." + +Several other principles may be added, upon all of which he insists with +great force, and which are very generally received by his disciples. + +1. Very little power is allowed to the curative efforts of nature. +Hahnemann goes so far as to say that no one has ever seen the simple +efforts of nature effect the durable recovery of a patient from a chronic +disease. In general, the Homoeopathist calls every recovery which +happens under his treatment a cure. + +2. Every medicinal substance must be administered in a state of the most +perfect purity, and uncombined with any other. The union of several +remedies in a single prescription destroys its utility, and, according to +the "Organon," frequently adds a new disease. + +3. A large number of substances commonly thought to be inert develop +great medicinal powers when prepared in the manner already described; and +a great proportion of them are ascertained to have specific antidotes in +case their excessive effects require to be neutralized. + +4. Diseases should be recognized, as far as possible, not by any of the +common names imposed upon them, as fever or epilepsy, but as individual +collections of symptoms, each of which differs from every other +collection. + +5. The symptoms of any complaint must be described with the most minute +exactness, and so far as possible in the patient's own words. To +illustrate the kind of circumstances the patient is expected to record, I +will mention one or two from the 313th page of the "Treatise on Chronic +Diseases,"--being the first one at which I opened accidentally. + +"After dinner, disposition to sleep; the patient winks." + +"After dinner, prostration and feeling of weakness (nine days after +taking the remedy)." + +This remedy was that same oyster-shell which is to be prescribed +"fractions of the sextillionth or decillionth degree." According to +Hahnemann, the action of a single dose of the size mentioned does not +fully display itself in some cases until twenty-four or even thirty days +after it is taken, and in such instances has not exhausted its good +effects until towards the fortieth or fiftieth day,--before which time it +would be absurd and injurious to administer a new remedy. + +So much for the doctrines of Hahnemann, which have been stated without +comment, or exaggeration of any of their features, very much as any +adherent of his opinions might have stated them, if obliged to compress +them into so narrow a space. + +Does Hahnemann himself represent Homoeopathy as it now exists? He +certainly ought to be its best representative, after having created it, +and devoted his life to it for half a century. He is spoken of as the +great physician of the time, in most, if not all Homoeopathic works. If +he is not authority on the subject of his own doctrines, who is? So far +as I am aware, not one tangible discovery in the so-called science has +ever been ascribed to any other observer; at least, no general principle +or law, of consequence enough to claim any prominence in Homoeopathic +works, has ever been pretended to have originated with any of his +illustrious disciples. He is one of the only two Homoeopathic writers +with whom, as I shall mention, the Paris publisher will have anything to +do upon his own account. The other is Jahr, whose Manual is little more +than a catalogue of symptoms and remedies. If any persons choose to +reject Hahnemann as not in the main representing Homoeopathy, if they +strike at his authority, if they wink out of sight his deliberate and +formally announced results, it is an act of suicidal rashness; for upon +his sagacity and powers of observation, and experience, as embodied in +his works, and especially in his Materia Medica, repose the foundations +of Homoeopathy as a practical system. + +So far as I can learn from the conflicting statements made upon the +subject, the following is the present condition of belief. + +1. All of any note agree that the law Similia similibus is the only +fundamental principle in medicine. Of course if any man does not agree +to this the name Homoeopathist can no longer be applied to him with +propriety. + +2. The belief in and employment of the infinitesimal doses is general, +and in some places universal, among the advocates of Homoeopathy; but a +distinct movement has been made in Germany to get rid of any restriction +to the use of these doses, and to employ medicines with the same license +as other practitioners. + +3. The doctrine of the origin of most chronic diseases in Psora, +notwithstanding Hahnemann says it cost him twelve years of study and +research to establish the fact and its practical consequences, has met +with great neglect and even opposition from very many of his own +disciples. + +It is true, notwithstanding, that, throughout most of their writings +which I have seen, there runs a prevailing tone of great deference to +Hahnemann's opinions, a constant reference to his authority, a general +agreement with the minor points of his belief, and a pretence of +harmonious union in a common faith. [Those who will take the trouble to +look over Hull's Translation of Jahr's Manual may observe how little +comparative space is given to remedies resting upon any other authority +than that of Hahnemann.] + +Many persons, and most physicians and scientific men, would be satisfied +with the statement of these doctrines, and examine them no further. They +would consider it vastly more probable that any observer in so fallacious +and difficult a field of inquiry as medicine had been led into error, or +walked into it of his own accord, than that such numerous and +extraordinary facts had really just come to light. They would feel a +right to exercise the same obduracy towards them as the French Institute +is in the habit of displaying when memoirs or models are offered to it +relating to the squaring of the circle or perpetual motion; which it is +the rule to pass over without notice. They would feel as astronomers and +natural philosophers must have felt when, some half a dozen years ago, an +unknown man came forward, and asked for an opportunity to demonstrate to +Arago and his colleagues that the moon and planets were at a distance of +a little more than a hundred miles from the earth. And so they would not +even look into Homoeopathy, though all its advocates should exclaim in +the words of Mr. Benjamin Douglass Perkins, vender of the Metallic +Tractors, that "On all discoveries there are persons who, without +descending to any inquiry into the truth, pretend to know, as it were by +intuition, that newly asserted facts are founded in the grossest errors." +And they would lay their heads upon their pillows with a perfectly clear +conscience, although they were assured that they were behaving in the +same way that people of old did towards Harvey, Galileo, and Copernicus, +the identical great names which were invoked by Mr. Benjamin Douglass +Perkins. + +But experience has shown that the character of these assertions is not +sufficient to deter many, from examining their claims to belief. I +therefore lean but very slightly on the extravagance and extreme apparent +singularity of their pretensions. I might have omitted them, but on the +whole it seemed more just to the claims of my argument to suggest the +vast complication of improbabilities involved in the statements +enumerated. Every one must of course judge for himself as to the weight +of these objections, which are by no means brought forward as a proof of +the extravagance of Homoeopathy, but simply as entitled to a brief +consideration before the facts of the case are submitted to our scrutiny. + +The three great asserted discoveries of Hahnemann are entirely +unconnected with and independent of each other. Were there any natural +relation between them it would seem probable enough that the discovery of +the first would have led to that of the others. But assuming it to be a +fact that diseases are cured by remedies capable of producing symptoms +like their own, no manifest relation exists between this fact and the +next assertion, namely, the power of the infinitesimal doses. And +allowing both these to be true, neither has the remotest affinity to the +third new doctrine, that which declares seven eighths of all chronic +diseases to be owing to Psora. + +This want of any obvious relation between Hahnemann's three cardinal +doctrines appears to be self-evident upon inspection. But if, as is +often true with his disciples, they prefer the authority of one of their +own number, I will refer them to Dr. Trinks's paper on the present state +of Homoeopathy in Europe, with which, of course, they are familiar, as +his name is mentioned as one of the most prominent champions of their +faith, in their American official organ. It would be a fact without a +parallel in the history, not merely of medicine, but of science, that +three such unconnected and astonishing discoveries, each of them a +complete revolution of all that ages of the most varied experience had +been taught to believe, should spring full formed from the brain of a +single individual. + +Let us look a moment at the first of his doctrines. Improbable though it +may seem to some, there is no essential absurdity involved in the +proposition that diseases yield to remedies capable of producing like +symptoms. There are, on the other hand, some analogies which lend a +degree of plausibility to the statement. There are well-ascertained +facts, known from the earliest periods of medicine, showing that, under +certain circumstances, the very medicine which, from its known effects, +one would expect to aggravate the disease, may contribute to its relief. +I may be permitted to allude, in the most general way, to the case in +which the spontaneous efforts of an overtasked stomach are quieted by the +agency of a drug which that organ refuses to entertain upon any terms. +But that every cure ever performed by medicine should have been founded +upon this principle, although without the knowledge of a physician; that +the Homoeopathic axiom is, as Hahnemann asserts, "the sole law of nature +in therapeutics," a law of which nothing more than a transient glimpse +ever presented itself to the innumerable host of medical observers, is a +dogma of such sweeping extent, and pregnant novelty, that it demands a +corresponding breadth and depth of unquestionable facts to cover its vast +pretensions. + +So much ridicule has been thrown upon the pretended powers of the minute +doses that I shall only touch upon this point for the purpose of +conveying, by illustrations, some shadow of ideas far transcending the +powers of the imagination to realize. It must be remembered that these +comparisons are not matters susceptible of dispute, being founded on +simple arithmetical computations, level to the capacity of any +intelligent schoolboy. A person who once wrote a very small pamphlet +made some show of objecting to calculations of thus kind, on the ground +that the highest dilutions could easily be made with a few ounces of +alcohol. But he should have remembered that at every successive dilution +he lays aside or throws away ninety-nine hundredths of the fluid on which +he is operating, and that, although he begins with a drop, he only +prepares a millionth, billionth, trillionth, and similar fractions of it, +all of which, added together, would constitute but a vastly minute +portion of the drop with which he began. But now let us suppose we take +one single drop of the Tincture of Camomile, and that the whole of this +were to be carried through the common series of dilutions. + +A calculation nearly like the following was made by Dr. Panvini, and may +be readily followed in its essential particulars by any one who chooses. + +For the first dilution it would take 100 drops of alcohol. + +For the second dilution it would take 10;000 drops, or about a pint. + +For the third dilution it would take 100 pints. + +For the fourth dilution it would take 10,000 pints, or more than 1,000 +gallons, and so on to the ninth dilution, which would take ten billion +gallons, which he computed would fill the basin of Lake Agnano, a body of +water two miles in circumference. The twelfth dilution would of course +fill a million such lakes. By the time the seventeenth degree of +dilution should be reached, the alcohol required would equal in quantity +the waters of ten thousand Adriatic seas. Trifling errors must be +expected, but they are as likely to be on one side as the other, and any +little matter like Lake Superior or the Caspian would be but a drop in +the bucket. + +Swallowers of globules, one of your little pellets, moistened in the +mingled waves of one million lakes of alcohol, each two miles in +circumference, with which had been blended that one drop of Tincture of +Camomile, would be of precisely the strength recommended for that +medicine in your favorite Jahr's Manual, "against the most sudden, +frightful, and fatal diseases!" [In the French edition of 1834, the +proper doses of the medicines are mentioned, and Camomile is marked IV. +Why are the doses omitted in Hull's Translation, except in three +instances out of the whole two hundred remedies, notwithstanding the +promise in the preface that "some remarks upon the doses used may be +found at the head of each medicine"? Possibly because it makes no +difference whether they are employed in one Homoeopathic dose or another; +but then it is very singular that such precise directions were formerly +given in the same work, and that Hahnemann's "experience" should have led +him to draw the nice distinctions we have seen in a former part of this +Lecture (p. 44).] + +And proceeding on the common data, I have just made a calculation which +shows that this single drop of Tincture of Camomile, given in the +quantity ordered by Jahr's Manual, would have supplied every individual +of the whole human family, past and present, with more than five billion +doses each, the action of each dose lasting about four days. + +Yet this is given only at the quadrillionth, or fourth degree of potency, +and various substances are frequently administered at the decillionth or +tenth degree, and occasionally at still higher attenuations with +professed medicinal results. Is there not in this as great an exception +to all the hitherto received laws of nature as in the miracle of the +loaves and fishes? Ask this question of a Homoeopathist, and he will +answer by referring to the effects produced by a very minute portion of +vaccine matter, or the extraordinary diffusion of odors. But the vaccine +matter is one of those substances called morbid poisons, of which it is a +peculiar character to multiply themselves, when introduced into the +system, as a seed does in the soil. Therefore the hundredth part of a +grain of the vaccine matter, if no more than this is employed, soon +increases in quantity, until, in the course of about a week, it is a +grain or more, and can be removed in considerable drops. And what is a +very curious illustration of Homoeopathy, it does not produce its most. +characteristic effects until it is already in sufficient quantity not +merely to be visible, but to be collected for further use. The +thoughtlessness which can allow an inference to be extended from a +product of disease possessing this susceptibility of multiplication when +conveyed into the living body, to substances of inorganic origin, such as +silex or sulphur, would be capable of arguing that a pebble may produce a +mountain, because an acorn can become a forest. + +As to the analogy to be found between the alleged action of the +infinitely attenuated doses, and the effects of some odorous substances +which possess the extraordinary power of diffusing their imponderable +emanations through a very wide space, however it may be abused in +argument, and rapidly as it evaporates on examination, it is not like +that just mentioned, wholly without meaning. The fact of the vast +diffusion of some odors, as that of musk or the rose, for instance, has +long been cited as the most remarkable illustration of the divisibility +of matter, and the nicety of the senses. And if this were compared with +the effects of a very minute dose of morphia on the whole system, or the +sudden and fatal impression of a single drop of prussic acid, or, with +what comes still nearer, the poisonous influence of an atmosphere +impregnated with invisible malaria, we should find in each of these +examples an evidence of the degree to which nature, in some few +instances, concentrates powerful qualities in minute or subtile forms of +matter. But if a man comes to me with a pestle and mortar in his hand, +and tells me that he will take a little speck of some substance which +nobody ever thought to have any smell at all, as, for instance, a grain +of chalk or of charcoal, and that he will, after an hour or two of +rubbing and scraping, develop in a portion of it an odor which, if the +whole grain were used, would be capable of pervading an apartment, a +house, a village, a province, an empire, nay, the entire atmosphere of +this broad planet upon which we tread; and that from each of fifty or +sixty substances he can in this way develop a distinct and hitherto +unknown odor: and if he tries to show that all this is rendered quite +reasonable by the analogy of musk and roses, I shall certainly be +justified in considering him incapable of reasoning, and beyond the reach +of my argument. What if, instead of this, he professes to develop new +and wonderful medicinal powers from the same speck of chalk or charcoal, +in such proportions as would impregnate every pond, lake, river, sea, and +ocean of our globe, and appeals to the same analogy in favor of the +probability of his assertion. + +All this may be true, notwithstanding these considerations. But so +extraordinary would be the fact, that a single atom of substances which a +child might swallow without harm by the teaspoonful could, by an easy +mechanical process, be made to develop such inconceivable powers, that +nothing but the strictest agreement of the most cautious experimenters, +secured by every guaranty that they were honest and faithful, appealing +to repeated experiments in public, with every precaution to guard against +error, and with the most plain and peremptory results, should induce us +to lend any credence to such pretensions. + +The third doctrine, that Psora, the other name of which you remember, is +the cause of the great majority of chronic diseases, is a startling one, +to say the least. That an affection always recognized as a very +unpleasant personal companion, but generally regarded as a mere temporary +incommodity, readily yielding to treatment in those unfortunate enough to +suffer from it, and hardly known among the better classes of society, +should be all at once found out by a German physician to be the great +scourge of mankind, the cause of their severest bodily and mental +calamities, cancer and consumption, idiocy and madness, must excite our +unqualified surprise. And when the originator of this singular truth +ascribes, as in the page now open before me, the declining health of a +disgraced courtier, the chronic malady of a bereaved mother, even the +melancholy of the love-sick and slighted maiden, to nothing more nor less +than the insignificant, unseemly, and almost unmentionable ITCH, does it +not seem as if the very soil upon which we stand were dissolving into +chaos, over the earthquake-heaving of discovery? + +And when one man claims to have established these three independent +truths, which are about as remote from each other as the discovery of the +law of gravitation, the invention of printing, and that of the mariner's +compass, unless the facts in their favor are overwhelming and unanimous, +the question naturally arises, Is not this man deceiving himself, or +trying to deceive others? + +I proceed to examine the proofs of the leading ideas of Hahnemann and his +school. + +In order to show the axiom, similia similibus curantur (or like is cured +by like), to be the basis of the healing art,--"the sole law of nature in +therapeutics,"--it is necessary, + +1. That the symptoms produced by drugs in healthy persons should be +faithfully studied and recorded. + +2. That drugs should be shown to be always capable of curing those +diseases most like their own symptoms. + +3. That remedies should be shown not to cure diseases when they do not +produce symptoms resembling those presented in these diseases. + +1. The effects of drugs upon healthy persons have been studied by +Hahnemann and his associates. Their results were made known in his +Materia Medica, a work in three large volumes in the French translation, +published about eight years ago. The mode of experimentation appears to +have been, to take the substance on trial, either in common or minute +doses, and then to set down every little sensation, every little movement +of mind or body, which occurred within many succeeding hours or days, as +being produced solely by the substance employed. When I have enumerated +some of the symptoms attributed to the power of the drugs taken, you will +be able to judge how much value is to be ascribed to the assertions of +such observers. + +The following list was taken literally from the Materia Medica of +Hahnemann, by my friend M. Vernois, for whose accuracy I am willing to +be responsible. He has given seven pages of these symptoms, not +selected, but taken at hazard from the French translation of the work. I +shall be very brief in my citations. + +"After stooping some time, sense of painful weight about the head upon +resuming the erect posture." + +"An itching, tickling sensation at the outer edge of the palm of the left +hand, which obliges the person to scratch." The medicine was acetate of +lime, and as the action of the globule taken is said to last twenty-eight +days, you may judge how many such symptoms as the last might be supposed +to happen. + +Among the symptoms attributed to muriatic acid are these: a catarrh, +sighing, pimples; "after having written a long time with the back a +little bent over, violent pain in the back and shoulder-blades, as if +from a strain,"--"dreams which are not remembered,--disposition to mental +dejection,--wakefulness before and after midnight." + +I might extend this catalogue almost indefinitely. I have not cited +these specimens with any view to exciting a sense of the ridiculous, +which many others of those mentioned would not fail to do, but to show +that the common accidents of sensation, the little bodily inconveniences +to which all of us are subject, are seriously and systematically ascribed +to whatever medicine may have been exhibited, even in the minute doses I +have mentioned, whole days or weeks previously. + +To these are added all the symptoms ever said by anybody, whether +deserving confidence or not, as I shall hereafter illustrate, to be +produced by the substance in question. + +The effects of sixty-four medicinal substances, ascertained by one or +both of these methods, are enumerated in the Materia Medica of Hahnemann, +which may be considered as the basis of practical Homoeopathy. In the +Manual of Jahr, which is the common guide, so far as I know, of those who +practise Homoeopathy in these regions, two hundred remedies are +enumerated, many of which, however, have never been employed in practice. +In at least one edition there were no means of distinguishing those which +had been tried upon the sick from the others. It is true that marks have +been added in the edition employed here, which serve to distinguish them; +but what are we to think of a standard practical author on Materia +Medica, who at one time omits to designate the proper doses of his +remedies, and at another to let us have any means of knowing whether a +remedy has ever been tried or not, while he is recommending its +employment in the most critical and threatening diseases? + +I think that, from what I have shown of the character of Hahnemann's +experiments, it would be a satisfaction to any candid inquirer to know +whether other persons, to whose assertions he could look with confidence, +confirm these pretended facts. Now there are many individuals, long and +well known to the scientific world, who have tried these experiments upon +healthy subjects, and utterly deny that their effects have at all +corresponded to Hahnemann's assertions. + +I will take, for instance, the statements of Andral (and I am not +referring to his well-known public experiments in his hospital) as to the +result of his own trials. This distinguished physician is Professor of +Medicine in the School of Paris, and one of the most widely known and +valued authors upon practical and theoretical subjects the profession can +claim in any country. He is a man of great kindness of character, a most +liberal eclectic by nature and habit, of unquestioned integrity, and is +called, in the leading article of the first number of the "Homoepathic +Examiner," "an eminent and very enlightened allopathist." Assisted by a +number of other persons in good health, he experimented on the effects of +cinchona, aconite, sulphur, arnica, and the other most highly extolled +remedies. His experiments lasted a year, and he stated publicly to the +Academy of Medicine that they never produced the slightest appearance of +the symptoms attributed to them. The results of a man like this, so +extensively known as one of the most philosophical and candid, as well as +brilliant of instructors, and whose admirable abilities and signal +liberality are generally conceded, ought to be of great weight in +deciding the question. + +M. Double, a well-known medical writer and a physician of high standing +in Paris, had occasion so long ago as 1801, before he had heard of +Homoeopathy, to make experiments upon Cinchona, or Peruvian bark. He and +several others took the drug in every kind of dose for four months, and +the fever it is pretended by Hahnemann to excite never was produced. + +M. Bonnet, President of the Royal Society of Medicine of Bordeaux, had +occasion to observe many soldiers during the Peninsular War, who made use +of Cinchona as a preservative against different diseases, but he never +found it to produce the pretended paroxysms. + +If any objection were made to evidence of this kind, I would refer to the +express experiments on many of the Homoeopathic substances, which were +given to healthy persons with every precaution as to diet and regimen, by +M. Louis Fleury, without being followed by the slightest of the pretended +consequences. And let me mention as a curious fact, that the same +quantity of arsenic given to one animal in the common form of the +unprepared powder, and to another after having been rubbed up into six +hundred globules, offered no particular difference of activity in the two +cases. + +This is a strange contradiction to the doctrine of the development of +what they call dynamic power, by means of friction and subdivision. + +In 1835 a public challenge was offered to the best known Homoeopathic +physician in Paris to select any ten substances asserted to produce the +most striking effects; to prepare them himself; to choose one by lot +without knowing which of them he had taken, and try it upon himself or +any intelligent and devoted Homoeopathist, and, waiting his own time, to +come forward and tell what substance had been employed. The challenge +was at first accepted, but the acceptance retracted before the time of +trial arrived. + +From all this I think it fair to conclude that the catalogues of symptoms +attributed in Homoeopathic works to the influence of various drugs upon +healthy persons are not entitled to any confidence. + +2. It is necessary to show, in the next place, that medicinal substances +are always capable of curing diseases most like their own symptoms. For +facts relating to this question we must look to two sources; the recorded +experience of the medical profession in general, and the results of +trials made according to Homoeopathic principles, and capable of testing +the truth of the doctrine. + +No person, that I am aware of, has ever denied that in some cases there +exists a resemblance between the effects of a remedy and the symptoms of +diseases in which it is beneficial. This has been recognized, as +Hahnemann himself has shown, from the time of Hippocrates. But according +to the records of the medical profession, as they have been hitherto +interpreted, this is true of only a very small proportion of useful +remedies. Nor has it ever been considered as an established truth that +the efficacy of even these few remedies was in any definite ratio to +their power of producing symptoms more or less like those they cured. + +Such was the state of opinion when Hahnemann came forward with the +proposition that all the cases of successful treatment found in the works +of all preceding medical writers were to be ascribed solely to the +operation of the Homoeopathic principle, which had effected the cure, +although without the physician's knowledge that this was the real secret. +And strange as it may seem, he was enabled to give such a degree of +plausibility to this assertion, that any person not acquainted somewhat +with medical literature, not quite familiar, I should rather say, with +the relative value of medical evidence, according to the sources whence +it is derived, would be almost frightened into the belief, at seeing the +pages upon pages of Latin names he has summoned as his witnesses. + +It has hitherto been customary, when examining the writings of authors of +preceding ages, upon subjects as to which they were less enlightened than +ourselves, and which they were very liable to misrepresent, to exercise +some little discretion; to discriminate, in some measure, between writers +deserving confidence and those not entitled to it. But there is not the +least appearance of any such delicacy on the part of Hahnemann. A large +majority of the names of old authors he cites are wholly unknown to +science. With some of them I have been long acquainted, and I know that +their accounts of diseases are no more to be trusted than their +contemporary Ambroise Pare's stories of mermen, and similar absurdities. +But if my judgment is rejected, as being a prejudiced one, I can refer to +Cullen, who mentioned three of Hahnemann's authors in one sentence, as +being "not necessarily bad authorities; but certainly such when they +delivered very improbable events;" and as this was said more than half a +century ago, it could not have had any reference to Hahnemann. But +although not the slightest sign of discrimination is visible in his +quotations,--although for him a handful of chaff from Schenck is all the +same thing as a measure of wheat from Morgagni,--there is a formidable +display of authorities, and an abundant proof of ingenious researches to +be found in each of the great works of Hahnemann with which I am +familiar. [Some painful surmises might arise as to the erudition of +Hahnemann's English Translator, who makes two individuals of "Zacutus, +Lucitanus," as well as respecting that of the conductors of an American +Homoeopathic periodical, who suffer the name of the world-renowned +Cardanus to be spelt Cardamus in at least three places, were not this +gross ignorance of course attributable only to the printer.] + +It is stated by Dr. Leo-Wolf, that Professor Joerg, of Leipsic, has +proved many of Hahnemann's quotations from old authors to be adulterate +and false. What particular instances he has pointed out I have no means +of learning. And it is probably wholly impossible on this side of the +Atlantic, and even in most of the public libraries of Europe, to find +anything more than a small fraction of the innumerable obscure +publications which the neglect of grocers and trunkmakers has spared to +be ransacked by the all-devouring genius of Homoeopathy. I have +endeavored to verify such passages as my own library afforded me the +means of doing. For some I have looked in vain, for want, as I am +willing to believe, of more exact references. But this I am able to +affirm, that, out of the very small number which I have been able, to +trace back to their original authors, I have found two to be wrongly +quoted, one of them being a gross misrepresentation. + +The first is from the ancient Roman author, Caelius Aurelianus; the +second from the venerable folio of Forestus. Hahnemann uses the +following expressions,--if he is not misrepresented in the English +Translation of the 'Organon': "Asclepiades on one occasion cured an +inflammation of the brain by administering a small quantity of wine." +After correcting the erroneous reference of the Translator, I can find no +such case alluded to in the chapter. But Caelius Aurelianus mentions two +modes of treatment employed by Asclepiades, into both of which the use of +wine entered, as being "in the highest degree irrational and dangerous." +[Caelius Aurel. De Morb. Acut. et Chron. lib. I. cap. xv. not xvi. +Amsterdam. Wetstein, 1755.] + +In speaking of the oil of anise-seed, Hahnemann says that Forestus +observed violent colic caused by its administration. But, as the author +tells the story, a young man took, by the counsel of a surgeon, an acrid +and virulent medicine, the name of which is not given, which brought on a +most cruel fit of the gripes and colic. After this another surgeon was +called, who gave him oil of anise-seed and wine, "which increased his +suffering." [Observ. et Curat. Med. lib. XXI obs. xiii. Frankfort, +1614.] Now if this was the Homoeopathic remedy, as Hahnemann pretends, +it might be a fair question why the young man was not cured by it. But +it is a much graver question why a man who has shrewdness and learning +enough to go so far after his facts, should think it right to treat them +with such astonishing negligence or such artful unfairness. + +Even if every word he had pretended to take from his old authorities were +to be found in them, even if the authority of every one of these authors +were beyond question, the looseness with which they are used to prove +whatever Hahnemann chooses is beyond the bounds of credibility. Let me +give one instance to illustrate the character of this man's mind. +Hahnemann asserts, in a note annexed to the 110th paragraph of the +"Organon," that the smell of the rose will cause certain persons to +faint. And he says in the text that substances which produce peculiar +effects of this nature on particular constitutions cure the same symptoms +in people in general. Then in another note to the same paragraph he +quotes the following fact from one of the last sources one would have +looked to for medical information, the Byzantine Historians. + +"It was by these means (i.e. Homoeopathically) that the Princess Eudosia +with rose-water restored a person who had fainted!" + +Is it possible that a man who is guilty of such pedantic folly as +this,--a man who can see a confirmation of his doctrine in such a +recovery as this,--a recovery which is happening every day, from a breath +of air, a drop or two of water, untying a bonnet-string, loosening a +stay-lace, and which can hardly help happening, whatever is done,--is it +possible that a man, of whose pages, not here and there one, but hundreds +upon hundreds are loaded with such trivialities, is the Newton, the +Columbus, the Harvey of the nineteenth century! + +The whole process of demonstration he employs is this. An experiment is +instituted with some drug upon one or more healthy persons. Everything +that happens for a number of days or weeks is, as we have seen, set down +as an effect of the medicine. Old volumes are then ransacked +promiscuously, and every morbid sensation or change that anybody ever +said was produced by the drug in question is added to the list of +symptoms. By one or both of these methods, each of the sixty-four +substances enumerated by Hahnemann is shown to produce a very large +number of symptoms, the lowest in his scale being ninety-seven, and the +highest fourteen hundred and ninety-one. And having made out this list +respecting any drug, a catalogue which, as you may observe in any +Homoeopathic manual, contains various symptoms belonging to every organ +of the body, what can be easier than to find alleged cures in every +medical author which can at once be attributed to the Homoeopathic +principle; still more if the grave of extinguished credulity is called +upon to give up its dead bones as living witnesses; and worst of all, if +the monuments of the past are to be mutilated in favor of "the sole law +of Nature in therapeutics"? + +There are a few familiar facts of which great use has been made as an +entering wedge for the Homoeopathic doctrine. They have been suffered to +pass current so long that it is time they should be nailed to the +counter, a little operation which I undertake, with perfect cheerfulness, +to perform for them. + +The first is a supposed illustration of the Homoeopathic law found in the +precept given for the treatment of parts which have been frozen, by +friction with snow or similar means. But we deceive ourselves by names, +if we suppose the frozen part to be treated by cold, and not by heat. +The snow may even be actually warmer than the part to which it is +applied. But even if it were at the same temperature when applied, it +never did and never could do the least good to a frozen part, except as a +mode of regulating the application of what? of heat. But the heat must +be applied gradually, just as food must be given a little at a time to +those perishing with hunger. If the patient were brought into a warm +room, heat would be applied very rapidly, were not something interposed +to prevent this, and allow its gradual admission. Snow or iced water is +exactly what is wanted; it is not cold to the part; it is very possibly +warm, on the contrary, for these terms are relative, and if it does not +melt and let the heat in, or is not taken away, the part will remain +frozen up until doomsday. Now the treatment of a frozen limb by heat, in +large or small quantities, is not Homoeopathy. + +The next supposed illustration of the Homoeopathic law is the alleged +successful management of burns, by holding them to the fire. This is a +popular mode of treating those burns which are of too little consequence +to require any more efficacious remedy, and would inevitably get well of +themselves, without any trouble being bestowed upon them. It produces a +most acute pain in the part, which is followed by some loss of +sensibility, as happens with the eye after exposure to strong light, and +the ear after being subjected to very intense sounds. This is all it is +capable of doing, and all further notions of its efficacy must be +attributed merely to the vulgar love of paradox. If this example affords +any comfort to the Homoeopathist, it seems as cruel to deprive him of it +as it would be to convince the mistress of the smoke-jack or the flatiron +that the fire does not literally "draw the fire out," which is her +hypothesis. + +But if it were true that frost-bites were cured by cold and burns by +heat, it would be subversive, so far as it went, of the great principle +of Homoeopathy. + +For you will remember that this principle is that Like cures Like, and +not that Same cures Same; that there is resemblance and not identity +between the symptoms of the disease and those produced by the drug which +cures it, and none have been readier to insist upon this distinction than +the Homoeopathists themselves. For if Same cures Same, then every poison +must be its own antidote,--which is neither a part of their theory nor +their so-called experience. They have been asked often enough, why it +was that arsenic could not cure the mischief which arsenic had caused, +and why the infectious cause of small-pox did not remedy the disease it +had produced, and then the; were ready enough to see the distinction I +have pointed out. O no! it was not the hair of the same dog, but only of +one very much like him! + +A third instance in proof of the Homoeopathic law is sought for in the +acknowledged efficacy of vaccination. And how does the law apply to +this? It is granted by the advocates of Homoeopathy that there is a +resemblance between the effects of the vaccine virus on a person in +health and the symptoms of small-pox. Therefore, according to the rule, +the vaccine virus will cure the small-pox, which, as everybody knows, is +entirely untrue. But it prevents small-pox, say the Homoeopathists. +Yes, and so does small-pox prevent itself from ever happening again, and +we know just as much of the principle involved in the one case as in the +other. For this is only one of a series of facts which we are wholly +unable to explain. Small-pox, measles, scarlet-fever, hooping-cough, +protect those who have them once from future attacks; but nettle-rash and +catarrh and lung fever, each of which is just as Homoeopathic to itself +as any one of the others, have no such preservative power. We are +obliged to accept the fact, unexplained, and we can do no more for +vaccination than for the rest. + +I come now to the most directly practical point connected with the +subject, namely,-- + +What is the state of the evidence as to the efficacy of the proper +Homoeopathic treatment in the cure of diseases. + +As the treatment adopted by the Homoeopathists has been almost +universally by means of the infinitesimal doses, the question of their +efficacy is thrown open, in common with that of the truth of their +fundamental axiom, as both are tested in practice. + +We must look for facts as to the actual working of Homoeopathy to three +sources. + +1. The statements of the unprofessional public. + +2. The assertions of Homoeopathic practitioners. + +3. The results of trials by competent and honest physicians, not pledged +to the system. + +I think, after what we have seen of medical facts, as they are +represented by incompetent persons, we are disposed to attribute little +value to all statements of wonderful cures, coming from those who have +never been accustomed to watch the caprices of disease, and have not +cooled down their young enthusiasm by the habit of tranquil observation. +Those who know nothing of the natural progress of a malady, of its +ordinary duration, of its various modes of terminating, of its liability +to accidental complications, of the signs which mark its insignificance +or severity, of what is to be expected of it when left to itself, of how +much or how little is to be anticipated from remedies, those who know +nothing or next to nothing of all these things, and who are in a great +state of excitement from benevolence, sympathy, or zeal for a new medical +discovery, can hardly be expected to be sound judges of facts which have +misled so many sagacious men, who have spent their lives in the daily +study and observation of them. I believe that, after having drawn the +portrait of defunct Perkinism, with its five thousand printed cures, and +its million and a half computed ones, its miracles blazoned about through +America, Denmark, and England; after relating that forty years ago women +carried the Tractors about in their pockets, and workmen could not make +them fast enough for the public demand; and then showing you, as a +curiosity, a single one of these instruments, an odd one of a pair, which +I obtained only by a lucky accident, so utterly lost is the memory of all +their wonderful achievements; I believe, after all this, I need not waste +time in showing that medical accuracy is not to be looked for in the +florid reports of benevolent associations, the assertions of illustrious +patrons, the lax effusions of daily journals, or the effervescent gossip +of the tea-table. + +Dr. Hering, whose name is somewhat familiar to the champions of +Homoeopathy, has said that "the new healing art is not to be judged by +its success in isolated cases only, but according to its success in +general, its innate truth, and the incontrovertible nature of its innate +principles." + +We have seen something of "the incontrovertible nature of its innate +principles," and it seems probable, on the whole, that its success in +general must be made up of its success in isolated cases. Some attempts +have been made, however, to finish the whole matter by sweeping +statistical documents, which are intended to prove its triumphant success +over the common practice. + +It is well known to those who have had the good fortune to see the +"Homoeopathic Examiner," that this journal led off, in its first number, +with a grand display of everything the newly imported doctrine had to +show for itself. It is well remarked, on the twenty-third page of this +article, that "the comparison of bills of mortality among an equal number +of sick, treated by divers methods, is a most poor and lame way to get at +conclusions touching principles of the healing art." In confirmation of +which, the author proceeds upon the twenty-fifth page to prove the +superiority of the Homoeopathic treatment of cholera, by precisely these +very bills of mortality. Now, every intelligent physician is aware that +the poison of cholera differed so much in its activity at different times +and, places, that it was next to impossible to form any opinion as to the +results of treatment, unless every precaution was taken to secure the +most perfectly corresponding conditions in the patients treated, and +hardly even then. Of course, then, a Russian Admiral, by the name of +Mordvinov, backed by a number of so-called physicians practising in +Russian villages, is singularly competent to the task of settling the +whole question of the utility of this or that kind of treatment; to prove +that, if not more than eight and a half per cent. of those attacked with +the disease perished, the rest owed their immunity to Hahnemann. I can +remember when more than a hundred patients in a public institution were +attacked with what, I doubt not, many Homoeopathic physicians (to say +nothing of Homoeopathic admirals) would have called cholera, and not one +of them died, though treated in the common way, and it is my firm belief +that, if such a result had followed the administration of the omnipotent +globules, it would have been in the mouth of every adept in Europe, from +Quin of London to Spohr of Gandersheim. No longer ago than yesterday, in +one of the most widely circulated papers of this city, there was +published an assertion that the mortality in several Homoeopathic +Hospitals was not quite five in a hundred, whereas, in what are called by +the writer Allopathic Hospitals, it is said to be eleven in a hundred. An +honest man should be ashamed of such an argumentum ad ignorantiam. The +mortality of a hospital depends not merely on the treatment of the +patients, but on the class of diseases it is in the habit of receiving, +on the place where it is, on the season, and many other circumstances. +For instance, there are many hospitals in the great cities of Europe that +receive few diseases of a nature to endanger life, and, on the other +hand, there are others where dangerous diseases are accumulated out of +the common proportion. Thus, in the wards of Louis, at the Hospital of +La Pitie, a vast number of patients in the last stages of consumption +were constantly entering, to swell the mortality of that hospital. It +was because he was known to pay particular attention to the diseases of +the chest that patients laboring under those fatal affections to an +incurable extent were so constantly coming in upon him. It is always a +miserable appeal to the thoughtlessness of the vulgar, to allege the +naked fact of the less comparative mortality in the practice of one +hospital or of one physician than another, as an evidence of the +superiority of their treatment. Other things being equal, it must always +be expected that those institutions and individuals enjoying to the +highest degree the confidence of the community will lose the largest +proportion of their patients; for the simple reason that they will +naturally be looked to by those suffering from the gravest class of +diseases; that many, who know that they are affected with mortal disease, +will choose to die under their care or shelter, while the subjects of +trifling maladies, and merely troublesome symptoms, amuse themselves to +any extent among the fancy practitioners. When, therefore, Dr. +Mublenbein, as stated in the "Homoeopathic Examiner," and quoted in +yesterday's "Daily Advertiser," asserts that the mortality among his +patients is only one per cent. since he has practised Homoeopathy, +whereas it was six per cent. when he employed the common mode of +practice, I am convinced by this, his own statement, that the citizens of +Brunswick, whenever they are seriously sick, take good care not to send +for Dr. Muhlenbein! + +It is evidently impossible that I should attempt, within the compass of a +single lecture, any detailed examination of the very numerous cases +reported in the Homoeopathic Treatises and Journals. Having been in the +habit of receiving the French "Archives of Homoeopathic Medicine" until +the premature decease of that Journal, I have had the opportunity of +becoming acquainted somewhat with the style of these documents, and +experiencing whatever degree of conviction they were calculated to +produce. Although of course I do not wish any value to be assumed for my +opinion, such as it is, I consider that you are entitled to hear it. So +far, then, as I am acquainted with the general character of the cases +reported by the Homoeopathic physicians, they would for the most part be +considered as wholly undeserving a place in any English, French, or +American periodical of high standing, if, instead of favoring the +doctrine they were intended to support, they were brought forward to +prove the efficacy of any common remedy administered by any common +practitioner. There are occasional exceptions to this remark; but the +general truth of it is rendered probable by the fact that these cases are +always, or almost always, written with the single object of showing the +efficacy of the medicine used, or the skill of the practitioner, and it +is recognized as a general rule that such cases deserve very little +confidence. Yet they may sound well enough, one at a time, to those who +are not fully aware of the fallacies of medical evidence. Let me state a +case in illustration. Nobody doubts that some patients recover under +every form of practice. Probably all are willing to allow that a large +majority, for instance, ninety in a hundred, of such cases as a physician +is called to in daily practice, would recover, sooner or later, with more +or less difficulty, provided nothing were done to interfere seriously +with the efforts of nature. + +Suppose, then, a physician who has a hundred patients prescribes to each +of them pills made of some entirely inert substance, as starch, for +instance. Ninety of them get well, or if he chooses to use such +language, he cures ninety of them. It is evident, according to the +doctrine of chances, that there must be a considerable number of +coincidences between the relief of the patient and the administration of +the remedy. It is altogether probable that there will happen two or +three very striking coincidences out of the whole ninety cases, in which +it would seem evident that the medicine produced the relief, though it +had, as we assumed, nothing to do with it. Now suppose that the +physician publishes these cases, will they not have a plausible +appearance of proving that which, as we granted at the outset, was +entirely false? Suppose that instead of pills of starch he employs +microscopic sugarplums, with the five' million billion trillionth part of +a suspicion of aconite or pulsatilla, and then publishes his successful +cases, through the leaden lips of the press, or the living ones of his +female acquaintances,--does that make the impression a less erroneous +one? But so it is that in Homoeopathic works and journals and gossip one +can never, or next to never, find anything but successful cases, which +might do very well as a proof of superior skill, did it not prove as much +for the swindling advertisers whose certificates disgrace so many of our +newspapers. How long will it take mankind to learn that while they listen +to "the speaking hundreds and units," who make the world ring with the +pretended triumphs they have witnessed, the "dumb millions" of deluded +and injured victims are paying the daily forfeit of their misplaced +confidence! + +I am sorry to see, also, that a degree of ignorance as to the natural +course of diseases is often shown in these published cases, which, +although it may not be detected by the unprofessional reader, conveys an +unpleasant impression to those who are acquainted with the subject. Thus +a young woman affected with jaundice is mentioned in the German "Annals +of Clinical Homoeopathy" as having been cured in twenty-nine days by +pulsatilla and nux vomica. Rummel, a well-known writer of the same +school, speaks of curing a case of jaundice in thirty-four days by +Homoeopathic doses of pulsatilla, aconite, and cinchona. I happened to +have a case in my own household, a few weeks since, which lasted about +ten days, and this was longer than I have repeatedly seen it in hospital +practice, so that it was nothing to boast of. + +Dr. Munneche of Lichtenburg in Saxony is called to a patient with +sprained ankle who had been a fortnight under the common treatment. The +patient gets well by the use of arnica in a little more than a month +longer, and this extraordinary fact is published in the French "Archives +of Homoeopathic Medicine." + +In the same Journal is recorded the case of a patient who with nothing +more, so far as any proof goes, than inluenza, gets down to her shop upon +the sixth day. + +And again, the cool way in which everything favorable in a case is set +down by these people entirely to their treatment, may be seen in a case +of croup reported in the "Homoeopathic Gazette" of Leipsic, in which +leeches, blistering, inhalation of hot vapor, and powerful internal +medicine had been employed, and yet the merit was all attributed to one +drop of some Homoeopathic fluid. + +I need not multiply these quotations, which illustrate the grounds of an +opinion which the time does not allow me to justify more at length; other +such cases are lying open before me; there is no end to them if more were +wanted; for nothing is necessary but to look into any of the numerous +broken-down Journals of Homoeopathy, the volumes of which may be found on +the shelves of those curious in such matters. + +A number of public trials of Homoeopathy have been made in different +parts of the world. Six of these are mentioned in the Manifesto of the +"Homoeopathic Examiner." Now to suppose that any trial can absolutely +silence people, would be to forget the whole experience of the past. Dr. +Haygarth and Dr. Alderson could not stop the sale of the five-guinea +Tractors, although they proved that they could work the same miracles +with pieces of wood and tobacco-pipe. It takes time for truth to operate +as well as Homoeopathic globules. Many persons thought the results of +these trials were decisive enough of the nullity of the treatment; those +who wish to see the kind of special pleading and evasion by which it is +attempted to cover results which, stated by the "Homoeopathic Examiner" +itself, look exceedingly like a miserable failure, may consult the +opening flourish of that Journal. I had not the intention to speak of +these public trials at all, having abundant other evidence on the point. +But I think it best, on the whole, to mention two of them in a few +words,--that instituted at Naples and that of Andral. + +There have been few names in the medical profession, for the last half +century, so widely known throughout the world of science as that of M. +Esquirol, whose life was devoted to the treatment of insanity, and who +was without a rival in that department of practical medicine. It is from +an analysis communicated by him to the "Gazette Medicale de Paris" that I +derive my acquaintance with the account of the trial at Naples by Dr. +Panvini, physician to the Hospital della Pace. This account seems to be +entirely deserving of credit. Ten patients were set apart, and not +allowed to take any medicine at all,--much against the wish of the +Homoeopathic physician. All of them got well, and of course all of them +would have been claimed as triumphs if they had been submitted to the +treatment. Six other slight cases (each of which is specified) got well +under the Homoeopathic treatment, none of its asserted specific effects +being manifested. + +All the rest were cases of grave disease; and so far as the trial, which +was interrupted about the fortieth day, extended, the patients grew +worse, or received no benefit. A case is reported on the page before me +of a soldier affected with acute inflammation in the chest, who took +successively aconite, bryonia, nux vomica, and pulsatilla, and after +thirty-eight days of treatment remained without any important change in +his disease. The Homoeopathic physician who treated these patients was +M. de Horatiis, who had the previous year been announcing his wonderful +cures. And M. Esquirol asserted to the Academy of Medicine in 1835, that +this M. de Horatiis, who is one of the prominent personages in the +"Examiner's" Manifesto published in 1840, had subsequently renounced +Homoeopathy. I may remark, by the way, that this same periodical, which +is so very easy in explaining away the results of these trials, makes a +mistake of only six years or a little more as to the time when this at +Naples was instituted. + +M. Andral, the "eminent and very enlightened allopathist" of the +"Homoeopathic Examiner," made the following statement in March, 1835, to +the Academy of Medicine: "I have submitted this doctrine to experiment; I +can reckon at this time from one hundred and thirty to one hundred and +forty cases, recorded with perfect fairness, in a great hospital, under +the eye of numerous witnesses; to avoid every objection--I obtained my +remedies of M. Guibourt, who keeps a Homoeopathic pharmacy, and whose +strict exactness is well known; the regimen has been scrupulously +observed, and I obtained from the sisters attached to the hospital a +special regimen, such as Hahnemann orders. I was told, however, some +months since, that I had not been faithful to all the rules of the +doctrine. I therefore took the trouble to begin again; I have studied +the practice of the Parisian Homoeopathists, as I had studied their +books, and I became convinced that they treated their patients as I had +treated mine, and I affirm that I have been as rigorously exact in the +treatment as any other person." + +And he expressly asserts the entire nullity of the influence of all the +Homoeopathic remedies tried by him in modifying, so far as he could +observe, the progress or termination of diseases. It deserves notice +that he experimented with the most boasted substances,--cinchona, +aconite, mercury, bryonia, belladonna. Aconite, for instance, he says he +administered in more than forty cases of that collection of feverish +symptoms in which it exerts so much power, according to Hahnemann, and in +not one of them did it have the slightest influence, the pulse and heat +remaining as before. + +These statements look pretty honest, and would seem hard to be explained +away, but it is calmly said that he "did not know enough of the method to +select the remedies with any tolerable precision." ["Homoeopathic +Examiner, vol. i. p. 22.] + +"Nothing is left to the caprice of the physician." (In a word, instead +of being dependent upon blind chance, that there is an infallible law, +guided by which; the physician MUST select the proper remedies.') +['Ibid.,' in a notice of Menzel's paper.] Who are they that practice +Homoeopathy, and say this of a man with the Materia Medica of Hahnemann +lying before him? Who are they that send these same globules, on which +he experimented, accompanied by a little book, into families, whose +members are thought competent to employ them, when they deny any such +capacity to a man whose life has been passed at the bedside of patients, +the most prominent teacher in the first Medical Faculty in the world, the +consulting physician of the King of France, and one of the most renowned +practical writers, not merely of his nation, but of his age? I leave the +quibbles by which such persons would try to creep out from under the +crushing weight of these conclusions to the unfortunates who suppose that +a reply is equivalent to an answer. + +Dr. Baillie, one of the physicians in the great Hotel Dieu of Paris, +invited two Homoeopathic practitioners to experiment in his wards. One of +these was Curie, now of London, whose works are on the counters of some +of our bookstores, and probably in the hands of some of my audience. +This gentleman, whom Dr. Baillie declares to be an enlightened man, and +perfectly sincere in his convictions, brought his own medicines from the +pharmacy which furnished Hahnemann himself, and employed them for four or +five months upon patients in his ward, and with results equally +unsatisfactory, as appears from Dr. Baillie's statement at a meeting of +the Academy of Medicine. And a similar experiment was permitted by the +Clinical Professor of the Hotel Dieu of Lyons, with the same complete +failure. + +But these are old and prejudiced practitioners. Very well, then take the +statement of Dr. Fleury, a most intelligent young physician, who treated +homoeopathically more than fifty patients, suffering from diseases which +it was not dangerous to treat in this way, taking every kind of +precaution as to regimen, removal of disturbing influences, and the state +of the atmosphere, insisted upon by the most vigorous partisans of the +doctrine, and found not the slightest effect produced by the medicines. +And more than this, read nine of these cases, which he has published, as +I have just done, and observe the absolute nullity of aconite, +belladonna, and bryonia, against the symptoms over which they are +pretended to exert such palpable, such obvious, such astonishing +influences. In the view of these statements, it is impossible not to +realize the entire futility of attempting to silence this asserted +science by the flattest and most peremptory results of experiment. Were +all the hospital physicians of Europe and America to devote themselves, +for the requisite period, to this sole pursuit, and were their results to +be unanimous as to the total worthlessness of the whole system in +practice, this slippery delusion would slide through their fingers +without the slightest discomposure, when, as they supposed, they had +crushed every joint in its tortuous and trailing body. + +3. I have said, that to show the truth of the Homoeopathic doctrine, as +announced by Hahnemann, it would be necessary to show, in the third +place, that remedies never cure diseases when they are not capable of +producing similar symptoms! The burden of this somewhat comprehensive +demonstration lying entirely upon the advocates of this doctrine, it may +be left to their mature reflections. + +It entered into my original plan to treat of the doctrine relating to +Psora, or itch,--an almost insane conception, which I am glad to get rid +of, for this is a subject one does not care to handle without gloves. I +am saved this trouble, however, by finding that many of the disciples of +Hahnemann, those disciples the very gospel of whose faith stands upon his +word, make very light of his authority on this point, although he himself +says, "It has cost me twelve years of study and research to trace out the +source of this incredible number of chronic affections, to discover this +great truth, which remained concealed from all my predecessors and +contemporaries, to establish the basis of its demonstration, and find +out, at the same time, the curative medicines that were fit to combat +this hydra in all its different forms." + +But, in the face of all this, the following remarks are made by Wolff, of +Dresden, whose essays, according to the editor of the "Homoeopathic +Examiner," "represent the opinions of a large majority of Homoeopathists +in Europe." + +"It cannot be unknown to any one at all familiar with Homoeopathic +literature, that Hahnemann's idea of tracing the large majority of +chronic diseases to actual itch has met with the greatest opposition from +Homoeopathic physicians themselves." And again, "If the Psoric theory +has led to no proper schism, the reason is to be found in the fact that +it is almost without any influence in practice." + +We are told by Jahr, that Dr. Griesselich, "Surgeon to the Grand Duke of +Baden," and a "distinguished" Homoeopathist, actually asked Hahnemann for +the proof that chronic diseases, such as dropsy, for instance, never +arise from any other cause than itch; and that, according to common +report, the venerable sage was highly incensed (fort courrouce) with Dr. +Hartmann, of Leipsic, another "distinguished" Homoeopathist, for +maintaining that they certainly did arise from other causes. + +And Dr. Fielitz, in the "Homoeopathic Gazette" of Leipsic, after saying, +in a good-natured way, that Psora is the Devil in medicine, and that +physicians are divided on this point into diabolists and exorcists, +declares that, according to a remark of Hahnemann, the whole civilized +world is affected with Psora. I must therefore disappoint any advocate +of Hahnemann who may honor me with his presence, by not attacking a +doctrine on which some of the disciples of his creed would be very happy +to have its adversaries waste their time and strength. I will not meddle +with this excrescence, which, though often used in time of peace, would +be dropped, like the limb of a shell-fish, the moment it was assailed; +time is too precious, and the harvest of living extravagances nods too +heavily to my sickle, that I should blunt it upon straw and stubble. + +I will close the subject with a brief examination of some of the +statements made in Homoeopathic works, and more particularly in the +brilliant Manifesto of the "Examiner," before referred to. And first, it +is there stated under the head of "Homoeopathic Literature," that "SEVEN +HUNDRED volumes have been issued from the press developing the +peculiarities of the system, and many of them possessed of a scientific +character that savans know well how to respect." If my assertion were +proper evidence in the case, I should declare, that, having seen a good +many of these publications, from the year 1834, when I bought the work of +the Rev. Thomas Everest, [Dr. Curie speaks of this silly pamphlet as +having been published in 1835.] to within a few weeks, when I received my +last importation of Homaeopathic literature, I have found that all, with +a very few exceptions, were stitched pamphlets varying from twenty or +thirty pages to somewhat less than a hundred, and generally resembling +each other as much as so many spelling-books. + +But not being evidence in the case, I will give you the testimony of Dr. +Trinks, of Dresden, who flourishes on the fifteenth page of the same +Manifesto as one of the most distinguished among the Homoeopathists of +Europe. I translate the sentence literally from the "Archives de la +Medecine Homoeopathique." + +"The literature of Homoeopathy, if that honorable name must be applied to +all kinds of book-making, has been degraded to the condition of the +humblest servitude. Productions without talent, without spirit, without +discrimination, flat and pitiful eulogies, exaggerations surpassing the +limits of the most robust faith, invectives against such as dared to +doubt the dogmas which had been proclaimed, or catalogues of remedies; of +such materials is it composed! From distance to distance only, have +appeared some memoirs useful to science or practice, which appear as so +many green oases in the midst of this literary desert." + +It is a very natural as well as a curious question to ask, What has been +the success of Homoeopathy in the different countries of Europe, and what +is its present condition? + +The greatest reliance of the advocates of Homoeopathy is of course on +Germany. We know very little of its medical schools, its medical +doctrines, or its medical men, compared with those of England and France. +And, therefore, when an intelligent traveller gives a direct account from +personal inspection of the miserable condition of the Homoeopathic +hospital at Leipsic, the first established in Europe, and the first on +the list of the ever-memorable Manifesto, it is easy enough answer or +elude the fact by citing various hard names of "distinguished" +practitioners, which sound just as well to the uninformed public as if +they were Meckel, or Tiedemann, or Langenbeck. Dr. Leo-Wolf, who, to be +sure, is opposed to Homoeopathy, but who is a scholar, and ought to know +something of his own countrymen, assures us that "Dr. Kopp is the only +German Homoeopathist, if we can call him so, who has been distinguished +as an author and practitioner before he examined this method." And Dr. +Lee, the same gentleman in whose travels the paragraph relating to the +Leipsic Hospital is to be found, says the same thing. And I will +cheerfully expose myself to any impertinent remark which it might +suggest, to assure my audience that I never heard or saw one authentic +Homoeopathic name of any country in Europe, which I had ever heard +mentioned before as connected with medical science by a single word or +deed sufficient to make it in any degree familiar to my ears, unless +Arnold of Heidelberg is the anatomist who discovered a little nervous +centre, called the otic ganglion. But you need ask no better proof of +who and what the German adherents of this doctrine must be, than the +testimony of a German Homoeopathist as to the wretched character of the +works they manufacture to enforce its claims. + +As for the act of this or that government tolerating or encouraging +Homoeopathy, every person of common intelligence knows that it is a mere +form granted or denied according to the general principles of policy +adopted in different states, or the degree of influence which some few +persons who have adopted it may happen to have at court. What may be the +value of certain pompous titles with which many of the advocates of +Homoeopathy are honored, it might be disrespectful to question. But in +the mean time the judicious inquirer may ponder over an extract which I +translate from a paper relating to a personage well known to the +community as Williams the Oculist, with whom I had the honor of crossing +the Atlantic some years since, and who himself handed me two copies of +the paper in question. + +"To say that he was oculist of Louis XVIII. and of Charles X., and that +he now enjoys the same title with respect to His Majesty, Louis Philippe, +and the King of the Belgians, is unquestionably to say a great deal; and +yet it is one of the least of his titles to public confidence. His +reputation rests upon a basis more substantial even than the numerous +diplomas with which he is provided, than the membership of the different +medical societies which have chosen him as their associate," etc., etc. + +And as to one more point, it is time that the public should fully +understand that the common method of supporting barefaced imposture at +the present day, both in Europe and in this country, consists in trumping +up "Dispensaries," "Colleges of Health," and other advertising charitable +clap-traps, which use the poor as decoy-ducks for the rich, and the +proprietors of which have a strong predilection for the title of +"Professor." These names, therefore, have come to be of little or no +value as evidence of the good character, still less of the high +pretensions of those who invoke their authority. Nor does it follow, even +when a chair is founded in connection with a well-known institution, that +it has either a salary or an occupant; so that it may be, and probably +is, a mere harmless piece of toleration on the part of the government if +a Professorship of Homoeopathy is really in existence at Jena or +Heidelberg. And finally, in order to correct the error of any who might +suppose that the whole Medical Profession of Germany has long since +fallen into the delusions of Hahnemann, I will quote two lines which a +celebrated anatomist and surgeon (whose name will occur again in this +lecture in connection with a very pleasing letter) addressed to the +French Academy of Medicine in 1835. "I happened to be in Germany some +months since, at a meeting of nearly six hundred physicians; one of them +wished to bring up the question of Homoeopathy; they would not even +listen to him." This may have been very impolite and bigoted, but that +is not precisely the point in reference to which I mention the +circumstance. + +But if we cannot easily get at Germany, we can very easily obtain exact +information from France and England. I took the trouble to write some +months ago to two friends in Paris, in whom I could place confidence, for +information upon the subject. One of them answered briefly to the effect +that nothing was said about it. When the late Curator of the Lowell +Institute, at his request, asked about the works upon the subject, he was +told that they had remained a long time on the shelves quite unsalable, +and never spoken of. + +The other gentleman, [Dr. Henry T. Bigelow, now Professor of Surgery in +Harvard University] whose name is well known to my audience, and who +needs no commendation of mine, had the kindness to procure for me many +publications upon the subject, and some information which sets the whole +matter at rest, so far as Paris is concerned. He went directly to the +Baillieres, the principal and almost the only publishers of all the +Homoeopathic books and journals in that city. The following facts were +taken by him from the account-books of this publishing firm. Four +Homoeopathic Journals have been published in Paris; three of them by the +Baillieres. + +The reception they met with may be judged of by showing the number of +subscribers to each on the books of the publishing firm. + +A Review published by some other house, which lasted one year, and had +about fifty subscribers, appeared in 1834, 1835. + +There were only four Journals of Homoeopathy ever published in Paris. The +Baillieres informed my correspondent that the sale of Homoeopathic books +was much less than formerly, and that consequently they should undertake +to publish no new books upon the subject, except those of Jahr or +Hahnemann. "This man," says my correspondent,--referring to one of the +brothers,--"the publisher and headquarters of Homoeopathy in Paris, +informs me that it is going down in England and Germany as well as in +Paris." For all the facts he had stated he pledged himself as +responsible. + +Homoeopathy was in its prime in Paris, he said, in 1836 and 1837, and +since then has been going down. + +Louis told my correspondent that no person of distinction in Paris had +embraced Homoeopathy, and that it was declining. If you ask who Louis +is, I refer you to the well-known Homoeopathist, Peschier of Geneva, who +says, addressing him, "I respect no one more than yourself; the feeling +which guides your researches, your labors, and your pen, is so honorable +and rare, that I could not but bow down before it; and I own, if there +were any allopathist who inspired me with higher veneration, it would be +him and not yourself whom I should address." + +Among the names of "Distinguished Homoeopathists," however, displayed in +imposing columns, in the index of the "Homoeopathic Examiner," are those +of MARJOLIN, AMUSSAT, and BRESCHET, names well known to the world of +science, and the last of them identified with some of the most valuable +contributions which anatomical knowledge has received since the +commencement of the present century. One Dr. Chrysaora, who stands +sponsor for many facts in that Journal, makes the following statement +among the rest: "Professors, who are esteemed among the most +distinguished of the Faculty (Faculty de Medicine), both as to knowledge +and reputation, have openly confessed the power of Homoeopathia in forms +of disease where the ordinary method of practice proved totally +insufficient. It affords me the highest pleasure to select from among +these gentlemen, Marjolin, Amussat, and Breschet." + +Here is a literal translation of an original letter, now in my +possession, from one of these Homoeopathists to my correspondent:-- + +"DEAR SIR, AND RESPECTED PROFESSIONAL BROTHER: + +"You have had the kindness to inform me in your letter that a new +American Journal, the 'New World,' has made use of my name in support of +the pretended Homoeopathic doctrines, and that I am represented as one of +the warmest partisans of Homoeopathy in France. + +"I am vastly surprised at the reputation manufactured for me upon the new +continent; but I am obliged, in deference to truth, to reject it with my +whole energy. I spurn far from me everything which relates to that +charlatanism called Homoeopathy, for these pretended doctrines cannot +endure the scrutiny of wise and enlightened persons, who are guided by +honorable sentiments in the practice of the noblest of arts. + +"PARIS, 3d November, 1841 + +"I am, etc., etc., +"G. BRESCHET, + +"Professor in the Faculty of Medicine, Member of the Institute, Surgeon +of Hotel Dieu, and Consulting Surgeon to the King, etc." [I first saw M. +Breschet's name mentioned in that Journal] + +Concerning Amussat, my correspondent writes, that he was informed by +Madame Hahnemann, who converses in French more readily than her husband, +and therefore often speaks for him, that "he was not a physician, neither +Homoeopathist nor Allopathist, but that he was the surgeon of their own +establishment; that is, performed as a surgeon all the operations they +had occasion for in their practice." + +I regret not having made any inquiries as to Marjolin, who, I doubt not, +would strike his ponderous snuff-box until it resounded like the Grecian +horse, at hearing such a doctrine associated with his respectable name. +I was not aware, when writing to Paris, that this worthy Professor, whose +lectures I long attended, was included in these audacious claims; but +after the specimens I have given of the accuracy of the foreign +correspondence of the "Homoeopathic Examiner," any further information I +might obtain would seem so superfluous as hardly to be worth the postage. + +Homoeopathy may be said, then, to be in a sufficiently miserable +condition in Paris. Yet there lives, and there has lived for years, the +illustrious Samuel Hahnemann, who himself assured my correspondent that +no place offered the advantages of Paris in its investigation, by reason +of the attention there paid to it. + +In England, it appears by the statement of Dr. Curie in October, 1839, +about eight years after its introduction into the country, that there +were eighteen Homoeopathic physicians in the United Kingdom, of whom only +three were to be found out of London, and that many of these practised +Homoeopathy in secret. + +It will be seen, therefore, that, according to the recent statement of +one of its leading English advocates, Homoeopathy had obtained not quite +half as many practical disciples in England as Perkinism could show for +itself in a somewhat less period from the time of its first promulgation +in that country. + +Dr. Curie's letter, dated London, October 30, 1839, says there is "one in +Dublin, Dr. Luther; at Glasgow, Dr. Scott." The "distinguished" +Chrysaora writes from Paris, dating October 20, 1839, "On the other hand, +Homoeopathy is commencing to make an inroad into England by the way of +Ireland. At Dublin, distinguished physicians have already embraced the +new system, and a great part of the nobility and gentry of that city have +emancipated themselves from the English fashion and professional +authority." + +But the Marquis of Anglesea and Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer patronize +Homoeopathy; the Queen Dowager Adelaide has been treated by a +Homoeopathic physician. "Jarley is the delight of the nobility and +gentry." "The Royal Family are the patrons of Jarley." + +Let me ask if a Marquis and a Knight are better than two Lords, and if +the Dowager of Royalty is better than Royalty itself, all of which +illustrious dignities were claimed in behalf of Benjamin Douglass +Perkins? + +But if the balance is thought too evenly suspended in this case, another +instance can be given in which the evidence of British noblemen and their +ladies is shown to be as valuable in establishing the character of a +medical man or doctrine, as would be the testimony of the Marquis of +Waterford concerning the present condition and prospects of missionary +enterprise. I have before me an octavo volume of more than four hundred +pages, in which, among much similar matter, I find highly commendatory +letters from the Marchioness of Ormond, Lady Harriet Kavanagh, the +Countess of Buckinghamshire, the Right Hon. Viscount Ingestre, M. P., and +the Most Noble, the Marquis of Sligo,--all addressed to "John St. John +Long, Esq," a wretched charlatan, twice tried for, and once convicted of, +manslaughter at the Old Bailey. + +This poor creature, too, like all of his tribe, speaks of the medical +profession as a great confederation of bigoted monopolists. He, too, +says that "If an innovator should appear, holding out hope to those in +despair, and curing disorders which the faculty have recorded as +irremediable, he is at once, and without inquiry, denounced as an empiric +and an impostor." He, too, cites the inevitable names of Galileo and +Harvey, and refers to the feelings excited by the great discovery of +Jenner. From the treatment of the great astronomer who was visited with +the punishment of other heretics by the ecclesiastical authorities of a +Catholic country some centuries since, there is no very direct inference +to be drawn to the medical profession of the present time. His name +should be babbled no longer, after having been placarded for the +hundredth time in the pages of St. John Long. But if we are doomed to +see constant reference to the names of Harvey and Jenner in every +worthless pamphlet containing the prospectus of some new trick upon the +public, let us, once for all, stare the facts in the face, and see how +the discoveries of these great men were actually received by the medical +profession. + +In 1628, Harvey published his first work upon the circulation. His +doctrines were a complete revolution of the prevailing opinions of all +antiquity. They immediately found both champions and opponents; of which +last, one only, Riolanus, seemed to Harvey worthy of an answer, on +account of his "rank, fame, and learning." Controversy in science, as in +religion, was not, in those days, carried on with all the courtesy which +our present habits demand, and it is possible that some hard words may +have been applied to Harvey, as it is very certain that he used the most +contemptuous expressions towards others. + +Harvey declares in his second letter to Riolanus, "Since the first +discovery of the circulation, hardly a day, or a moment, has passed +without my hearing it both well and ill spoken of; some attack it with +great hostility, others defend it with high encomiums; one party believe +that I have abundantly proved the truth of the doctrine against all the +weight of opposing arguments, by experiments, observations, and +dissections; others think it not yet sufficiently cleared up, and free +from objections." Two really eminent Professors, Plempius of Louvain, +and Walaeus of Leyden, were among its early advocates. + +The opinions sanctioned by the authority of long ages, and the names of +Hippocrates and Galen, dissolved away, gradually, but certainly, before +the demonstrations of Harvey. Twenty-four years after the publication of +his first work, and six years before his death, his bust in marble was +placed in the Hall of the College of Physicians, with a suitable +inscription recording his discoveries. + +Two years after this he was unanimously invited to accept the Presidency +of that body; and he lived to see his doctrine established, and all +reputable opposition withdrawn. + +There were many circumstances connected with the discovery of Dr. Jenner +which were of a nature to excite repugnance and opposition. The practice +of inoculation for the small-pox had already disarmed that disease of +many of its terrors. The introduction of a contagious disease from a +brute creature into the human system naturally struck the public mind +with a sensation of disgust and apprehension, and a part of the medical +public may have shared these feelings. I find that Jenner's discovery of +vaccination was made public in June, 1798. In July of the same year the +celebrated surgeon, Mr. Cline, vaccinated a child with virus received +from Dr. Jenner, and in communicating the success of this experiment, he +mentions that Dr. Lister, formerly of the Small-Pox Hospital, and +himself, are convinced of the efficacy of the cow-pox. In November of +the same year, Dr. Pearson published his "Inquiry," containing the +testimony of numerous practitioners in different parts of the kingdom, to +the efficacy of the practice. Dr. HAYGARTH, who was so conspicuous in +exposing the follies of Perkinism, was among the very earliest to express +his opinion in favor of vaccination. In 1801, Dr. Lettsom mentions the +circumstance "as being to the honor of the medical professors, that they +have very generally encouraged this salutary practice, although it is +certainly calculated to lessen their pecuniary advantages by its tendency +to extirpate a fertile source of professional practice." + +In the same year the Medical Committee of Paris spoke of vaccination in a +public letter, as "the most brilliant and most important discovery of the +eighteenth century." The Directors of a Society for the Extermination of +the Small-Pox, in a Report dated October 1st, 1807, "congratulate the +public on the very favorable opinion which the Royal College of +Physicians of London, after a most minute and laborious investigation +made by the command of his Majesty, have a second time expressed on the +subject of vaccination, in their Report laid before the House of Commons, +in the last session of Parliament; in consequence of which the sum of +twenty thousand pounds was voted to Dr. Jenner, as a remuneration for his +discovery, in addition to ten thousand pounds before granted." (In June, +1802.) + +These and similar accusations, so often brought up against the Medical +Profession, are only one mode in which is manifested a spirit of +opposition not merely to medical science, but to all science, and to all +sound knowledge. It is a spirit which neither understands itself nor the +object at which it is aiming. It gropes among the loose records of the +past, and the floating fables of the moment, to glean a few truths or +falsehoods tending to prove, if they prove anything, that the persons who +have passed their lives in the study of a branch of knowledge the very +essence of which must always consist in long and accurate observation, +are less competent to judge of new doctrines in their own department than +the rest of the community. It belongs to the clown in society, the +destructive in politics, and the rogue in practice. + +The name of Harvey, whose great discovery was the legitimate result of +his severe training and patient study, should be mentioned only to check +the pretensions of presumptuous ignorance. The example of Jenner, who +gave his inestimable secret, the result of twenty-two years of experiment +and researches, unpurchased, to the public,--when, as was said in +Parliament, he might have made a hundred thousand pounds by it as well as +any smaller sum,--should be referred to only to rebuke the selfish +venders of secret remedies, among whom his early history obliges us +reluctantly to record Samuel Hahnemann. Those who speak of the great body +of physicians as if they were united in a league to support the +superannuated notions of the past against the progress of improvement, +have read the history of medicine to little purpose. The prevalent +failing of this profession has been, on the contrary, to lend a too +credulous ear to ambitious and plausible innovators. If at the present +time ten years of public notoriety have passed over any doctrine +professing to be of importance in medical science, and if it has not +succeeded in raising up a powerful body of able, learned, and ingenious +advocates for its claims, the fault must be in the doctrine and not in +the medical profession. + +Homoeopathy has had a still more extended period of trial than this, and +we have seen with what results. It only remains to throw out a few +conjectures as to the particular manner in which it is to break up and +disappear. + +1. The confidence of the few believers in this delusion will never +survive the loss of friends who may die of any acute disease, under a +treatment such as that prescribed by Homoeopathy. It is doubtful how far +cases of this kind will be trusted to its tender mercies, but wherever it +acquires any considerable foothold, such cases must come, and with them +the ruin of those who practise it, should any highly valued life be thus +sacrificed. + +2. After its novelty has worn out, the ardent and capricious individuals +who constitute the most prominent class of its patrons will return to +visible doses, were it only for the sake of a change. + +3. The Semi-Homoeopathic practitioner will gradually withdraw from the +rotten half of his business and try to make the public forget his +connection with it. + +4. The ultra Homoeopathist will either recant and try to rejoin the +medical profession; or he will embrace some newer and if possible equally +extravagant doctrine; or he will stick to his colors and go down with his +sinking doctrine. Very few will pursue the course last mentioned. + +A single fact may serve to point out in what direction there will +probably be a movement of the dissolving atoms of Homoeopathy. On the +13th page of the too frequently cited Manifesto of the "Examiner" I read +the following stately paragraph: + +"Bigelius, M. D., physician to the Emperor of Russia, whose elevated +reputation is well known in Europe, has been an acknowledged advocate of +Hahnemann's doctrines for several years. He abandoned Allopathia for +Homoeopathia." The date of this statement is January, 1840. I find on +looking at the booksellers' catalogues that one Bigel, or Bigelius, to +speak more classically, has been at various times publishing Homoeopathic +books for some years. + +Again, on looking into the "Encyclographie des Sciences Medicales" for +April, 1840, I find a work entitled "Manual of HYDROSUDOPATHY, or the +Treatment of Diseases by Cold Water, etc., etc., by Dr. Bigel, Physician +of the School of Strasburg, Member of the Medico-Chirurgical Institute of +Naples, of the Academy of St. Petersburg,--Assessor of the College of +the Empire of Russia, Physician of his late Imperial Highness the Grand +Duke Constantine, Chevalier of the Legion of Honor, etc." Hydrosudopathy +or Hydropathy, as it is sometimes called, is a new medical doctrine or +practice which has sprung up in Germany since Homoeopathy, which it bids +fair to drive out of the market, if, as Dr. Bigel says, fourteen +physicians afflicted with diseases which defied themselves and their +colleagues came to Graefenberg, in the year 1836 alone, and were cured. +Now Dr. Bigel, "whose elevated reputation is well known in Europe," +writes as follows: "The reader will not fail to see in this defence of +the curative method of Graefenberg a profession of medical faith, and he +will be correct in so doing." And his work closes with the following +sentence, worthy of so distinguished an individual: "We believe, with +religion, that the water of baptism purifies the soul from its original +sin; let us believe also, with experience, that it is for our corporeal +sins the redeemer of the human body." If Bigel, Physician to the late +Grand Duke Constantine, is identical with Bigel whom the "Examiner" calls +Physician to the Emperor of Russia, it appears that he is now actively +engaged in throwing cold water at once upon his patients and the future +prospects of Homoeopathy. + +If, as must be admitted, no one of Hahnemann's doctrines is received with +tolerable unanimity among his disciples, except the central axiom, +Similia similibus curantur; if this axiom itself relies mainly for its +support upon the folly and trickery of Hahnemann, what can we think of +those who announce themselves ready to relinquish all the accumulated +treasures of our art, to trifle with life upon the strength of these +fantastic theories? What shall we think of professed practitioners of +medicine, if, in the words of Jahr, "from ignorance, for their personal +convenience, or through charlatanism, they treat their patients one day +Homoeopathically and the next Allopathically;" if they parade their +pretended new science before the unguarded portion of the community; if +they suffer their names to be coupled with it wherever it may gain a +credulous patient; and deny all responsibility for its character, refuse +all argument for its doctrines, allege no palliation for the ignorance +and deception interwoven with every thread of its flimsy tissue, when +they are questioned by those competent to judge and entitled to an +answer? + +Such is the pretended science of Homoeopathy, to which you are asked to +trust your lives and the lives of those dearest to you. A mingled mass +of perverse ingenuity, of tinsel erudition, of imbecile credulity, and of +artful misrepresentation, too often mingled in practice, if we may trust +the authority of its founder, with heartless and shameless imposition. +Because it is suffered so often to appeal unanswered to the public, +because it has its journals, its patrons, its apostles, some are weak +enough to suppose it can escape the inevitable doom of utter disgrace and +oblivion. Not many years can pass away before the same curiosity excited +by one of Perkins's Tractors will be awakened at the sight of one of the +Infinitesimal Globules. If it should claim a longer existence, it can +only be by falling into the hands of the sordid wretches who wring their +bread from the cold grasp of disease and death in the hovels of ignorant +poverty. + +As one humble member of a profession which for more than two thousand +years has devoted itself to the pursuit of the best earthly interests of +mankind, always assailed and insulted from without by such as are +ignorant of its infinite perplexities and labors, always striving in +unequal contest with the hundred-armed giant who walks in the noonday, +and sleeps not in the midnight, yet still toiling, not merely for itself +and the present moment, but for the race and the future, I have lifted my +voice against this lifeless delusion, rolling its shapeless bulk into the +path of a noble science it is too weak to strike, or to injure. + + + + +THE CONTAGIOUSNESS OF PUERPERAL FEVER + +Printed in 1843; reprinted with additions, 1855. + +THE POINT AT ISSUE. + + +THE AFFIRMATIVE. + +"The disease known as Puerperal Fever is so far contagious as to be +frequently carried from patient to patient by physicians and nurses." +O. W. Holmes, 1843. + + +THE NEGATIVE. + +"The result of the whole discussion will, I trust, serve, not only to +exalt your views of the value and dignity of our profession, but to +divest your minds of the overpowering dread that you can ever become, +especially to woman, under the extremely interesting circumstances of +gestation and parturition, the minister of evil; that you can ever +convey, in any possible manner, a horrible virus, so destructive in its +effects, and so mysterious in its operations as that attributed to +puerperal fever."--Professor Hodge, 1852. + +"I prefer to attribute them to accident, or Providence, of which I can +form a conception, rather than to a contagion of which I cannot form any +clear idea, at least as to this particular malady."--Professor Meigs, +1852. + +" . . . in the propagation of which they have no more to do, than with +the propagation of cholera from Jessore to San Francisco, and from +Mauritius to St. Petersburg."--Professor Meigs, 1854. + + --------------------- + +"I arrived at that certainty in the matter, that I could venture to +foretell what women would be affected with the disease, upon hearing by +what midwife they were to be delivered, or by what nurse they were to be +attended, during their lying-in; and, almost in every instance, my +prediction was verified."--Gordon, 1795. + +"A certain number of deaths is caused every year by the contagion of +puerperal fever, communicated by the nurses and medical attendants." +Farr, in Fifth Annual Report of Registrar-General of England, 1843. + +". . . boards of health, if such exist, or, without them, the medical +institutions of a country, should have the power of coercing, or of +inflicting some kind of punishment on those who recklessly go from cases +of puerperal fevers to parturient or puerperal females, without using due +precaution; and who, having been shown the risk, criminally encounter it, +and convey pestilence and death to the persons they are employed to aid +in the most interesting and suffering period of female existence." +--Copland's Medical Dictionary, Art. Puerperal States and Diseases, 1852. + +"We conceive it unnecessary to go into detail to prove the contagious +nature of this disease, as there are few, if any, American practitioners +who do not believe in this doctrine."--Dr. Lee, in Additions to Article +last cited. + + ----------------------- + +[INTRODUCTORY NOTE.] It happened, some years ago, that a discussion arose +in a Medical Society of which I was a member, involving the subject of a +certain supposed cause of disease, about which something was known, a +good deal suspected, and not a little feared. The discussion was +suggested by a case, reported at the preceding meeting, of a physician +who made an examination of the body of a patient who had died with +puerperal fever, and who himself died in less than a week, apparently in +consequence of a wound received at the examination, having attended +several women in confinement in the mean time, all of whom, as it was +alleged, were attacked with puerperal fever. + +Whatever apprehensions and beliefs were entertained, it was plain that a +fuller knowledge of the facts relating to the subject would be acceptable +to all present. I therefore felt that it would be doing a good service +to look into the best records I could find, and inquire of the most +trustworthy practitioners I knew, to learn what experience had to teach +in the matter, and arrived at the results contained in the following +pages. + +The Essay was read before the Boston Society for Medical Improvement, +and, at the request of the Society, printed in the "New England Quarterly +Journal of Medicine and Surgery" for April, 1843. As this Journal never +obtained a large circulation, and ceased to be published after a year's +existence, and as the few copies I had struck off separately were soon +lost sight of among the friends to whom they were sent, the Essay can +hardly be said to have been fully brought before the Profession. + +The subject of this Paper has the same profound interest for me at the +present moment as it had when I was first collecting the terrible +evidence out of which, as it seems to me, the commonest exercise of +reason could not help shaping the truth it involved. It is not merely on +account of the bearing of the question,--if there is a question,--on all +that is most sacred in human life and happiness, that the subject cannot +lose its interest. It is because it seems evident that a fair statement +of the facts must produce its proper influence on a very large proportion +of well-constituted and unprejudiced minds. Individuals may, here and +there, resist the practical bearing of the evidence on their own feelings +or interests; some may fail to see its meaning, as some persons may be +found who cannot tell red from green; but I cannot doubt that most +readers will be satisfied and convinced, to loathing, long before they +have finished the dark obituary calendar laid before them. + +I do not know that I shall ever again have so good an opportunity of +being useful as was granted me by the raising of the question which +produced this Essay. For I have abundant evidence that it has made many +practitioners more cautious in their relations with puerperal females, +and I have no doubt it will do so still, if it has a chance of being +read, though it should call out a hundred counterblasts, proving to the +satisfaction of their authors that it proved nothing. And for my part, I +had rather rescue one mother from being poisoned by her attendant, than +claim to have saved forty out of fifty patients to whom I had carried the +disease. Thus, I am willing to avail myself of any hint coming from +without to offer this paper once more to the press. The occasion has +presented itself, as will be seen, in a convenient if not in a flattering +form. + +I send this Essay again to the MEDICAL PROFESSION, without the change of +a word or syllable. I find, on reviewing it, that it anticipates and +eliminates those secondary questions which cannot be entertained for a +moment until the one great point of fact is peremptorily settled. In its +very statement of the doctrine maintained it avoids all discussion of the +nature of the disease "known as puerperal fever," and all the somewhat +stale philology of the word contagion. It mentions, fairly enough, the +names of sceptics, or unbelievers as to the reality of personal +transmission; of Dewees, of Tonnelle, of Duges, of Baudelocque, and +others; of course, not including those whose works were then unwritten or +unpublished; nor enumerating all the Continental writers who, in +ignorance of the great mass of evidence accumulated by British +practitioners, could hardly be called well informed on this subject. It +meets all the array of negative cases,--those in which disease did not +follow exposure,--by the striking example of small-pox, which, although +one of the most contagious of diseases, is subject to the most remarkable +irregularities and seeming caprices in its transmission. It makes full +allowance for other causes besides personal transmission, especially for +epidemic influences. It allows for the possibility of different modes of +conveyance of the destructive principle. It recognizes and supports the +belief that a series of cases may originate from a single primitive +source which affects each new patient in turn; and especially from cases +of Erysipelas. It does not undertake to discuss the theoretical aspect +of the subject; that is a secondary matter of consideration. Where facts +are numerous, and unquestionable, and unequivocal in their significance, +theory must follow them as it best may, keeping time with their step, and +not go before them, marching to the sound of its own drum and trumpet. +Having thus narrowed its area to a limited practical platform of +discussion, a matter of life and death, and not of phrases or theories, +it covers every inch of it with a mass of evidence which I conceive a +Committee of Husbands, who can count coincidences and draw conclusions as +well as a Synod of Accoucheurs, would justly consider as affording ample +reasons for an unceremonious dismissal of a practitioner (if it is +conceivable that such a step could be waited for), after five or six +funerals had marked the path of his daily visits, while other +practitioners were not thus escorted. To the Profession, therefore, I +submit the paper in its original form, and leave it to take care of +itself. + +To the MEDICAL STUDENTS, into whose hands this Essay may fall, some words +of introduction may be appropriate, and perhaps, to a small number of +them, necessary. There are some among them who, from youth, or want of +training, are easily bewildered and confused in any conflict of opinions +into which their studies lead them. They are liable to lose sight of the +main question in collateral issues, and to be run away with by suggestive +speculations. They confound belief with evidence, often trusting the +first because it is expressed with energy, and slighting the latter +because it is calm and unimpassioned. They are not satisfied with proof; +they cannot believe a point is settled so long as everybody is not +silenced. They have not learned that error is got out of the minds that +cherish it, as the taenia is removed from the body, one joint, or a few +joints at a time, for the most part, rarely the whole evil at once. They +naturally have faith in their instructors, turning to them for truth, and +taking what they may choose to give them; babes in knowledge, not yet +able to tell the breast from the bottle, pumping away for the milk of +truth at all that offers, were it nothing better than a Professor's +shrivelled forefinger. + +In the earliest and embryonic stage of professional development, any +violent impression on the instructor's mind is apt to be followed by some +lasting effect on that of the pupil. No mother's mark is more permanent +than the mental naevi and moles, and excrescences, and mutilations, that +students carry with them out of the lecture-room, if once the teeming +intellect which nourishes theirs has been scared from its propriety by +any misshapen fantasy. Even an impatient or petulant expression, which +to a philosopher would be a mere index of the low state of amiability of +the speaker at the moment of its utterance, may pass into the young mind +as an element of its future constitution, to injure its temper or corrupt +its judgment. It is a duty, therefore, which we owe to this younger +class of students, to clear any important truth which may have been +rendered questionable in their minds by such language, or any +truth-teller against whom they may have been prejudiced by hasty +epithets, from the impressions such words have left. Until this is done, +they are not ready for the question, where there is a question, for them +to decide. Even if we ourselves are the subjects of the prejudice, there +seems to be no impropriety in showing that this prejudice is local or +personal, and not an acknowledged conviction with the public at large. +It may be necessary to break through our usual habits of reserve to do +this, but this is the fault of the position in which others have placed +us. + +Two widely-known and highly-esteemed practitioners, Professors in two of +the largest Medical Schools of the Union, teaching the branch of art +which includes the Diseases of Women, and therefore speaking with +authority; addressing in their lectures and printed publications large +numbers of young men, many of them in the tenderest immaturity of +knowledge, have recently taken ground in a formal way against the +doctrine maintained in this paper: + +On the Non-Contagious Character of Puerperal Fever: An Introductory +Lecture. By Hugh L. Hodge, M. D., Professor of Obstetrics in the +University of Pennsylvania. Delivered Monday, October 11, 1852. +Philadelphia, 1852. + +On the Nature, Signs, and Treatment of Childbed Fevers: in a Series of +Letters addressed to the Students of his Class. By Charles D. Meigs, M. +D., Professor of Midwifery and the Diseases of Women and Children in +Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia, etc., etc. Philadelphia, 1854. +Letter VI. + +The first of the two publications, Dr. Hodge's Lecture, while its +theoretical considerations and negative experiences do not seem to me to +require any further notice than such as lay ready for them in my Essay +written long before, is, I am pleased to say, unobjectionable in tone and +language, and may be read without offence. + +This can hardly be said of the chapter of Dr. Meigs's volume which treats +of Contagion in Childbed Fever. There are expressions used in it which +might well put a stop to all scientific discussions, were they to form +the current coin in our exchange of opinions. I leave the "very young +gentlemen," whose careful expositions of the results of practice in more +than six thousand cases are characterized as "the jejune and fizenless +dreamings of sophomore writers," to the sympathies of those "dear young +friends," and "dear young gentlemen," who will judge how much to value +their instructor's counsel to think for themselves, knowing what they are +to expect if they happen not to think as he does. + +One unpalatable expression I suppose the laws of construction oblige me +to appropriate to myself, as my reward for a certain amount of labor +bestowed on the investigation of a very important question of evidence, +and a statement of my own practical conclusions. I take no offence, and +attempt no retort. No man makes a quarrel with me over the counterpane +that covers a mother, with her new-born infant at her breast. There is +no epithet in the vocabulary of slight and sarcasm that can reach my +personal sensibilities in such a controversy. Only just so far as a +disrespectful phrase may turn the student aside from the examination of +the evidence, by discrediting or dishonoring the witness, does it call +for any word of notice. + +I appeal from the disparaging language by which the Professor in the +Jefferson School of Philadelphia world dispose of my claims to be +listened to. I appeal, not to the vote of the Society for Medical +Improvement, although this was an unusual evidence of interest in the +paper in question, for it was a vote passed among my own townsmen; nor to +the opinion of any American, for none know better than the Professors in +the great Schools of Philadelphia how cheaply the praise of native +contemporary criticism is obtained. I appeal to the recorded opinions of +those whom I do not know, and who do not know me, nor care for me, except +for the truth that I may have uttered; to Copland, in his "Medical +Dictionary," who has spoken of my Essay in phrases to which the pamphlets +of American "scribblers" are seldom used from European authorities; to +Ramsbotham, whose compendious eulogy is all that self-love could ask; to +the "Fifth Annual Report" of the Registrar-General of England, in which +the second-hand abstract of my Essay figures largely, and not without +favorable comment, in an important appended paper. These testimonies, +half forgotten until this circumstance recalled them, are dragged into +the light, not in a paroxysm of vanity, but to show that there may be +food for thought in the small pamphlet which the Philadelphia Teacher +treats so lightly. They were at least unsought for, and would never have +been proclaimed but for the sake of securing the privilege of a decent +and unprejudiced hearing. + +I will take it for granted that they have so far counterpoised the +depreciating language of my fellow-countryman and fellow-teacher as to +gain me a reader here and there among the youthful class of students I am +now addressing. It is only for their sake that I think it necessary to +analyze, or explain, or illustrate, or corroborate any portion of the +following Essay. But I know that nothing can be made too plain for +beginners; and as I do not expect the practitioner, or even the more +mature student, to take the trouble to follow me through an Introduction +which I consider wholly unnecessary and superfluous for them, I shall not +hesitate to stoop to the most elementary simplicity for the benefit of +the younger student. I do this more willingly because it affords a good +opportunity, as it seems to me, of exercising the untrained mind in that +medical logic which does not seem to have been either taught or practised +in our schools of late, to the extent that might be desired. + +I will now exhibit, in a series of propositions reduced to their simplest +expression, the same essential statements and conclusions as are +contained in the Essay, with such commentaries and explanations as may be +profitable to the inexperienced class of readers addressed. + +I. It has been long believed, by many competent observers, that +Puerperal Fever (so called) is sometimes carried from patient to patient +by medical assistants. + +II. The express object of this Essay is to prove that it is so carried. + +III. In order to prove this point, it is not necessary to consult any +medical theorist as to whether or not it is consistent with his +preconceived notions that such a mode of transfer should exist. + +IV. If the medical theorist insists on being consulted, and we see fit +to indulge him, he cannot be allowed to assume that the alleged laws of +contagion, deduced from observation in other diseases, shall be cited to +disprove the alleged laws deduced from observation in this. Science +would never make progress under such conditions. Neither the long +incubation of hydrophobia, nor the protecting power of vaccination, would +ever have been admitted, if the results of observation in these +affections had been rejected as contradictory to the previously +ascertained laws of contagion. + +V. The disease in question is not a common one; producing, on the +average, about three deaths in a thousand births, according to the +English Registration returns which I have examined. + +VI. When an unusually large number of cases of this disease occur about +the same time, it is inferred, therefore, that there exists some special +cause for this increased frequency. If the disease prevails extensively +over a wide region of country, it is attributed without dispute to an +epidemic influence. If it prevails in a single locality, as in a +hospital, and not elsewhere, this is considered proof that some local +cause is there active in its production. + +VII. When a large number of cases of this disease occur in rapid +succession, in one individual's ordinary practice, and few or none +elsewhere, these cases appearing in scattered localities, in patients of +the same average condition as those who escape under the care of others, +there is the same reason for connecting the cause of the disease with the +person in this instance, as with the place in that last mentioned. + +VIII. Many series of cases, answering to these conditions, are given in +this Essay, and many others will be referred to which have occurred since +it was written. + +IX. The alleged results of observation may be set aside; first, because +the so-called facts are in their own nature equivocal; secondly, because +they stand on insufficient authority; thirdly, because they are not +sufficiently numerous. But, in this case, the disease is one of striking +and well-marked character; the witnesses are experts, interested in +denying and disbelieving the facts; the number of consecutive cases in +many instances frightful, and the number of series of cases such that I +have no room for many of them except by mere reference. + +X. These results of observation, being admitted, may, we will suppose, +be interpreted in different methods. Thus the coincidences may be +considered the effect of chance. I have had the chances calculated by a +competent person, that a given practitioner, A., shall have sixteen fatal +cases in a month, on the following data: A. to average attendance upon +two hundred and fifty births in a year; three deaths in one thousand +births to be assumed as the average from puerperal fever; no epidemic to +be at the time prevailing. It follows, from the answer given me, that if +we suppose every one of the five hundred thousand annual births of +England to have been recorded during the last half-century, there would +not be one chance in a million million million millions that one such +series should be noted. No possible fractional error in this calculation +can render the chance a working probability. Applied to dozens of series +of various lengths, it is obviously an absurdity. Chance, therefore, is +out of the question as an explanation of the admitted coincidences. + +XI. There is, therefore, some relation of cause and effect between the +physician's presence and the patient's disease. + +XII. Until it is proved to what removable condition attaching to the +attendant the disease is owing, he is bound to stay away from his +patients so soon as he finds himself singled out to be tracked by the +disease. How long, and with what other precautions, I have suggested, +without dictating, at the close of my Essay. If the physician does not +at once act on any reasonable suspicion of his being the medium of +transfer, the families where he is engaged, if they are allowed to know +the facts, should decline his services for the time. His feelings on the +occasion, however interesting to himself, should not be even named in +this connection. A physician who talks about ceremony and gratitude, and +services rendered, and the treatment he got, surely forgets himself; it +is impossible that he should seriously think of these small matters where +there is even a question whether he may not carry disease, and death, and +bereavement into any one of "his families," as they are sometimes called. + +I will now point out to the young student the mode in which he may +relieve his mind of any confusion, or possibly, if very young, any doubt, +which the perusal of Dr. Meigs's Sixth Letter may have raised in his +mind. + +The most prominent ideas of the Letter are, first, that the transmissible +nature of puerperal fever appears improbable, and, secondly, that it +would be very inconvenient to the writer. Dr. Woodville, Physician to the +Small-Pox and Inoculation Hospital in London, found it improbable, and +exceedingly inconvenient to himself, that cow pox should prevent +small-pox; but Dr. Jenner took the liberty to prove the fact, +notwithstanding. + +I will first call the young student's attention to the show of negative +facts (exposure without subsequent disease), of which much seems to be +thought. And I may at the same time refer him to Dr. Hodge's Lecture, +where he will find the same kind of facts and reasoning. Let him now +take up Watson's Lectures, the good sense and spirit of which have made +his book a universal favorite, and open to the chapter on Continued +Fever. He will find a paragraph containing the following sentence: "A +man might say, 'I was in the battle of Waterloo, and saw many men around +me fall down and die, and it was said that they were struck down by +musket-balls; but I know better than that, for I was there all the time, +and so were many of my friends, and we were never hit by any +musket-balls. Musket-balls, therefore, could not have been the cause of +the deaths we witnessed.' And if, like contagion, they were not palpable +to the senses, such a person might go on to affirm that no proof existed +of there being any such thing as musket-balls." Now let the student turn +back to the chapter on Hydrophobia in the same volume. He will find that +John Hunter knew a case in which, of twenty-one persons bitten, only one +died of the disease. He will find that one dog at Charenton was bitten +at different times by thirty different mad dogs, and outlived it all. Is +there no such thing, then, as hydrophobia? Would one take no especial +precautions if his wife, about to become a mother, had been bitten by a +rabid animal, because so many escape? Or let him look at "Underwood on +Diseases of Children," [Philadelphia, 1842, p. 244, note.] and he will +find the case of a young woman who was inoculated eight times in thirty +days, at the same time attending several children with smallpox, and yet +was not infected. But seven weeks afterwards she took the disease and +died. + +It would seem as if the force of this argument could hardly fail to be +seen, if it were granted that every one of these series of cases were so +reported as to prove that there could have been no transfer of disease. +There is not one of them so reported, in the Lecture or the Letter, as to +prove that the disease may not have been carried by the practitioner. I +strongly suspect that it was so carried in some of these cases, but from +the character of the very imperfect evidence the question can never be +settled without further disclosures. + +Although the Letter is, as I have implied, principally taken up with +secondary and collateral questions, and might therefore be set aside as +in the main irrelevant, I am willing, for the student's sake, to touch +some of these questions briefly, as an illustration of its logical +character. + +The first thing to be done, as I thought when I wrote my Essay, was to +throw out all discussions of the word contagion, and this I did +effectually by the careful wording of my statement of the subject to be +discussed. My object was not to settle the etymology or definition of a +word, but to show that women had often died in childbed, poisoned in some +way by their medical attendants. On the other point, I, at least, have +no controversy with anybody, and I think the student will do well to +avoid it in this connection. If I must define my position, however, as +well as the term in question, I am contented with Worcester's definition; +provided always this avowal do not open another side controversy on the +merits of his Dictionary, which Dr. Meigs has not cited, as compared with +Webster's, which he has. + +I cannot see the propriety of insisting that all the laws of the eruptive +fevers must necessarily hold true of this peculiar disease of puerperal +women. If there were any such propriety, the laws of the eruptive fevers +must at least be stated correctly. It is not true, for instance, as Dr. +Meigs states, that contagion is "no respecter of persons;" that "it +attacks all individuals alike." To give one example: Dr. Gregory, of the +Small-Pox Hospital, who ought to know, says that persons pass through +life apparently insensible to or unsusceptible of the small-pox virus, +and that the same persons do not take the vaccine disease. + +As to the short time of incubation, of which so much is made, we have no +right to decide beforehand whether it shall be long or short, in the +cases we are considering. A dissection wound may produce symptoms of +poisoning in six hours; the bite of a rabid animal may take as many +months. + +After the student has read the case in Dr. Meigs's 136th paragraph, and +the following one, in which he exclaims against the idea of contagion, +because the patient, delivered on the 26th of December, was attacked in +twenty-four hours, and died on the third day, let him read what happened +at the "Black Assizes" of 1577 and 1750. In the first case, six hundred +persons sickened the same night of the exposure, and three hundred more +in three days. [Elliotson's Practice, p. 298.] Of those attacked in the +latter year, the exposure being on the 11th of May, Alderman Lambert died +on the 13th, Under-Sheriff Cox on the 14th, and many of note before the +20th. But these are old stories. Let the student listen then to Dr. +Gerhard, whose reputation as a cautious observer he may be supposed to +know. "The nurse was shaving a man, who died in a few hours after his +entrance; he inhaled his breath, which had a nauseous taste, and in an +hour afterwards was taken with nausea, cephalalgia, and singing of the +ears. From that moment the attack began, and assumed a severe character. +The assistant was supporting another patient, who died soon afterwards; +he felt the pungent heat upon his skin, and was taken immediately with +the symptoms of typhus." [Am. Jour. Med. Sciences, Feb. 1837, p. 299.] +It is by notes of cases, rather than notes of admiration, that we must +be guided, when we study the Revised Statutes of Nature, as laid down +from the curule chairs of Medicine. + +Let the student read Dr. Meigs's 140th paragraph soberly, and then +remember, that not only does he infer, suspect, and surmise, but he +actually asserts (page 154), "there was poison in the house," because +three out of five patients admitted into a ward had puerperal fever and +died. Have I not as much right to draw a positive inference from "Dr. +A.'s" seventy exclusive cases as he from the three cases in the ward of +the Dublin Hospital? All practical medicine, and all action in common +affairs, is founded on inferences. How does Dr. Meigs know that the +patients he bled in puerperal fever would not have all got well if he had +not bled them? + +"You see a man discharge a gun at another; you see the flash, you hear +the report, you see the person fall a lifeless corpse; and you infer, +from all these circumstances, that there was a ball discharged from the +gun, which entered his body and caused his death, because such is the +usual and natural cause of such an effect. But you did not see the ball +leave the gun, pass through the air, and enter the body of the slain; and +your testimony to the fact of killing is, therefore, only +inferential,--in other words, circumstantial. It is possible that no +ball was in the gun; and we infer that there was, only because we cannot +account for death on any other supposition." [Chief Justice Gibson, in +Am. Law Journal, vol. vi. p. 123.] + +"The question always comes to this: Is the circumstance of intercourse +with the sick followed by the appearance of the disease in a proportion +of cases so much greater than any other circumstance common to any +portion of the inhabitants of the place under observation, as to make it +inconceivable that the succession of cases occurring in persons having +that intercourse should have been the result of chance? If so, the +inference is unavoidable, that that intercourse must have acted as a +cause of the disease. All observations which do not bear strictly on +that point are irrelevant, and, in the case of an epidemic first +appearing in a town or district, a succession of two cases is sometimes +sufficient to furnish evidence which, on the principle I have stated, is +nearly irresistible." + +Possibly an inexperienced youth may be awe-struck by the quotation from +Cuvier. These words, or their equivalent, are certainly to be found in +his Introduction. So are the words "top not come down"! to be found in +the Bible, and they were as much meant for the ladies' head-dresses as +the words of Cuvier were meant to make clinical observation wait for a +permit from anybody to look with its eyes and count on its fingers. Let +the inquiring youth read the whole Introduction, and he will see what +they mean. + +I intend no breach of courtesy, but this is a proper place to warn the +student against skimming the prefaces and introductions of works for +mottoes and embellishments to his thesis. He cannot learn anatomy by +thrusting an exploring needle into the body. He will be very liable to +misquote his author's meaning while he is picking off his outside +sentences. He may make as great a blunder as that simple prince who +praised the conductor of his orchestra for the piece just before the +overture; the musician was too good a courtier to tell him that it was +only the tuning of the instruments. + +To the six propositions in the 142d paragraph, and the remarks about +"specific" diseases, the answer, if any is necessary, seems very simple. +An inflammation of a serous membrane may give rise to secretions which +act as a poison, whether that be a "specific" poison or not, as Dr. Homer +has told his young readers, and as dissectors know too well; and that +poison may produce its symptoms in a few hours after the system has +received it, as any may see in Druitt's "Surgery," if they care to look. +Puerperal peritonitis may produce such a poison, and puerperal women may +be very sensible to its influences, conveyed by contact or exhalation. +Whether this is so or not, facts alone can determine, and to facts we +have had recourse to settle it. + +The following statement is made by Dr. Meigs in his 142d paragraph, and +developed more at length, with rhetorical amplifications, in the 134th. +"No human being, save a pregnant or parturient woman, is susceptible to +the poison." This statement is wholly incorrect, as I am sorry to have +to point out to a Teacher in Dr. Meigs's position. I do not object to the +erudition which quotes Willis and Fernelius, the last of whom was +pleasantly said to have "preserved the dregs of the Arabs in the honey of +his Latinity." But I could wish that more modern authorities had not +been overlooked. On this point, for instance, among the numerous facts +disproving the statement, the "American Journal of Medical Sciences," +published not far from his lecture-room, would have presented him with a +respectable catalog of such cases. Thus he might refer to Mr. Storrs's +paper "On the Contagious Effects of Puerperal Fever on the Male Subject; +or on Persons not Childbearing" (Jan. 1846), or to Dr. Reid's case +(April, 1846), or to Dr. Barron's statement of the children's dying of +peritonitis in an epidemic of puerperal fever at the Philadelphia +Hospital (Oct. 1842), or to various instances cited in Dr. Kneeland's +article (April, 186). Or, if he would have referred to the "New York +Journal," he might have seen Prof. Austin Flint's cases. Or, if he had +honored my Essay so far, he might have found striking instances of the +same kind in the first of the new series of cases there reported and +elsewhere. I do not see the bearing of his proposition, if it were true. +But it is one of those assertions that fall in a moment before a slight +examination of the facts; and I confess my surprise, that a professor who +lectures on the Diseases of Women should have ventured to make it. + +Nearly seven pages are devoted to showing that I was wrong in saying I +would not be "understood to imply that there exists a doubt in the mind +of any well-informed member of the medical profession as to the fact that +puerperal fever is sometimes communicated from one person to another, +both directly and indirectly." I will devote seven lines to these seven +pages, which seven lines, if I may say it without offence, are, as it +seems to me, six more than are strictly necessary. + +The following authors are cited as sceptics by Dr. Meigs: Dewees.--I +cited the same passage. Did not know half the facts. Robert +Lee.--Believes the disease is sometimes communicable by contagion. +Tonnelle, Baudelocque. Both cited by me. Jacquemier.--Published three +years after my Essay. Kiwisch. " Behindhand in knowledge of Puerperal +Fever." [B. & F. Med. Rev. Jan. 1842.] Paul Dubois.--Scanzoni. + +These Continental writers not well informed on this point.[See Dr. +Simpson's Remarks at Meeting of Edin. Med. Chir. Soc. (Am. Jour. +Oct. 1851.)] + +The story of Von Busch is of interest and value, but there is nothing in +it which need perplex the student. It is not pretended that the disease +is always, or even, it may be, in the majority of cases, carried about by +attendants; only that it is so carried in certain cases. That it may +have local and epidemic causes, as well as that depending on personal +transmission, is not disputed. Remember how small-pox often disappears +from a community in spite of its contagious character, and the necessary +exposure of many persons to those suffering from it; in both diseases +contagion is only one of the coefficients of the disease. + +I have already spoken of the possibility that Dr. Meigs may have been the +medium of transfer of puerperal fever in some of the cases he has briefly +catalogued. Of Dr. Rutter's cases I do not know how to speak. I only +ask the student to read the facts stated by Dr. Condie, as given in my +Essay, and say whether or not a man should allow his wife to be attended +by a practitioner in whose hands "scarcely a female that has been +delivered for weeks past has escaped an attack," "while no instance of +the disease has occurred in the patients of any other accoucheur +practising in the same district." If I understand Dr. Meigs and Dr. +Hodge, they would not warn the physician or spare the patient under such +circumstances. They would "go on," if I understand them, not to seven, +or seventy, only, but to seventy times seven, if they could find +patients. If this is not what they mean, may we respectfully ask them to +state what they do mean, to their next classes, in the name of humanity, +if not of science! + +I might repeat the question asked concerning Dr. Rutter's cases, with +reference to those reported by Dr. Roberton. Perhaps, however, the +student would like to know the opinion of a person in the habit of +working at matters of this kind in a practical point of view. To satisfy +him on this ground, I addressed the following question to the President +of one of our principal Insurance Companies, leaving Dr. Meigs's book and +my Essay in his hands at the same time. + +Question. "If such facts as Roberton's cases were before you, and the +attendant had had ten, or even five fatal cases, or three, or two even, +would you, or would you not, if insuring the life of the next patient to +be taken care of by that attendant, expect an extra premium over that of +an average case of childbirth?" + +Answer. "Of course I should require a very large extra premium, if I +would take take risk at all." + +But I do not choose to add the expressions of indignation which the +examination of the facts before him called out. I was satisfied from the +effect they produced on him, that if all the hideous catalogues of cases +now accumulated were fully brought to the knowledge of the public, +nothing, since the days of Burke and Hare, has raised such a cry of +horror as would be shrieked in the ears of the Profession. + +Dr. Meigs has elsewhere invoked "Providence" as the alternative of +accident, to account for the "coincidences." ("Obstetrics," Phil. 1852, +p. 631.) If so, Providence either acts through the agency of secondary +causes, as in other diseases, or not. If through such causes, let us +find out what they are, as we try to do in other cases. It may be true +that offences, or diseases, will come, but "woe unto him through whom +they come," if we catch him in the voluntary or careless act of bringing +them! But if Providence does not act through secondary causes in this +particular sphere of etiology, then why does Dr. Meigs take such pains to +reason so extensively about the laws of contagion, which, on that +supposition, have no more to do with this case than with the plague which +destroyed the people after David had numbered them? Above all, what +becomes of the theological aspect of the question, when he asserts that a +practitioner was "only unlucky in meeting with the epidemic cases?" (Op. +cit. p. 633.) We do not deny that the God of battles decides the fate of +nations; but we like to have the biggest squadrons on our side, and we +are particular that our soldiers should not only say their prayers, but +also keep their powder dry. We do not deny the agency of Providence in +the disaster at Norwalk, but we turn off the engineer, and charge the +Company five thousand dollars apiece for every life that is sacrificed. + +Why a grand jury should not bring in a bill against a physician who +switches off a score of women one after the other along his private +track, when he knows that there is a black gulf at the end of it, down +which they are to plunge, while the great highway is clear, is more than +I can answer. It is not by laying the open draw to Providence that he is +to escape the charge of manslaughter. + +To finish with all these lesser matters of question, I am unable to see +why a female must necessarily be unattended in her confinement, because +she declines the services of a particular practitioner. In all the +series of cases mentioned, the death-carrying attendant was surrounded by +others not tracked by disease and its consequences. Which, I would ask, +is worse,--to call in another, even a rival practitioner, or to submit an +unsuspecting female to a risk which an Insurance Company would have +nothing to do with? + +I do not expect ever to return to this subject. There is a point of +mental saturation, beyond which argument cannot be forced without +breeding impatient, if not harsh, feelings towards those who refuse to be +convinced. If I have so far manifested neither, it is well to stop here, +and leave the rest to those younger friends who may have more stomach for +the dregs of a stale argument. + +The extent of my prefatory remarks may lead some to think that I attach +too much importance to my own Essay. Others may wonder that I should +expend so many words upon the two productions referred to, the Letter and +the Lecture. I do consider my Essay of much importance so long as the +doctrine it maintains is treated as a question, and so long as any +important part of the defence of that doctrine is thought to rest on its +evidence or arguments. I cannot treat as insignificant any opinions +bearing on life, and interests dearer than life, proclaimed yearly to +hundreds of young men, who will carry them to their legitimate results in +practice. + +The teachings of the two Professors in the great schools of Philadelphia +are sure to be listened to, not only by their immediate pupils, but by +the Profession at large. I am too much in earnest for either humility or +vanity, but I do entreat those who hold the keys of life and death to +listen to me also for this once. I ask no personal favor; but I beg to +be heard in behalf of the women whose lives are at stake, until some +stronger voice shall plead for them. + +I trust that I have made the issue perfectly distinct and intelligible. +And let it be remembered that this is no subject to be smoothed over by +nicely adjusted phrases of half-assent and half-censure divided between +the parties. The balance must be struck boldly and the result declared +plainly. If I have been hasty, presumptuous, ill-informed, illogical; if +my array of facts means nothing; if there is no reason for any caution in +the view of these facts; let me be told so on such authority that I must +believe it, and I will be silent henceforth, recognizing that my mind is +in a state of disorganization. If the doctrine I have maintained is a +mournful truth; if to disbelieve it, and to practise on this disbelief, +and to teach others so to disbelieve and practise, is to carry +desolation, and to charter others to carry it, into confiding families, +let it be proclaimed as plainly what is to be thought of the teachings of +those who sneer at the alleged dangers, and scout the very idea of +precaution. Let it be remembered that persons are nothing in this +matter; better that twenty pamphleteers should be silenced, or as many +professors unseated, than that one mother's life should be taken. There +is no quarrel here between men, but there is deadly incompatibility and +exterminating warfare between doctrines. Coincidences meaning nothing, +though a man have a monopoly of the disease for weeks or months; or cause +and effect, the cause being in some way connected with the person; this +is the question. If I am wrong, let me be put down by such a rebuke as +no rash declaimer has received since there has been a public opinion in +the medical profession of America; if I am right, let doctrines which +lead to professional homicide be no longer taught from the chairs of +those two great Institutions. Indifference will not do here; our +Journalists and Committees have no right to take up their pages with +minute anatomy and tediously detailed cases, while it is a question +whether or not the "blackdeath" of child-bed is to be scattered broadcast +by the agency of the mother's friend and adviser. Let the men who mould +opinions look to it; if there is any voluntary blindness, any interested +oversight, any culpable negligence, even, in such a matter, and the facts +shall reach the public ear; the pestilence-carrier of the lying-in +chamber must look to God for pardon, for man will never forgive him. + + THE CONTAGIOUSNESS OF PUERPERAL FEVER. + +In collecting, enforcing, and adding to the evidence accumulated upon +this most serious subject, I would not be understood to imply that there +exists a doubt in the mind of any well-informed member of the medical +profession as to the fact that puerperal fever is sometimes communicated +from one person to another, both directly and indirectly. In the present +state of our knowledge upon this point I should consider such doubts +merely as a proof that the sceptic had either not examined the evidence, +or, having examined it, refused to accept its plain and unavoidable +consequences. I should be sorry to think, with Dr. Rigby, that it was a +case of "oblique vision;" I should be unwilling to force home the +argumentum ad hominem of Dr. Blundell, but I would not consent to make a +question of a momentous fact which is no longer to be considered as a +subject for trivial discussions, but to be acted upon with silent +promptitude. It signifies nothing that wise and experienced +practitioners have sometimes doubted the reality of the danger in +question; no man has the right to doubt it any longer. No negative +facts, no opposing opinions, be they what they may, or whose they may, +can form any answer to the series of cases now within the reach of all +who choose to explore the records of medical science. + +If there are some who conceive that any important end would be answered +by recording such opinions, or by collecting the history of all the cases +they could find in which no evidence of the influence of contagion +existed, I believe they are in error. Suppose a few writers of authority +can be found to profess a disbelief in contagion,--and they are very few +compared with those who think differently,--is it quite clear that they +formed their opinions on a view of all the facts, or is it not apparent +that they relied mostly on their own solitary experience? Still further, +of those whose names are quoted, is it not true that scarcely a single +one could by any possibility have known the half or the tenth of the +facts bearing on the subject which have reached such a frightful amount +within the last few years? Again, as to the utility of negative facts, +as we may briefly call them,--instances, namely, in which exposure has +not been followed by disease,--although, like other truths, they may be +worth knowing, I do not see that they are like to shed any important +light upon the subject before us. Every such instance requires a good +deal of circumstantial explanation before it can be accepted. It is not +enough that a practitioner should have had a single case of puerperal +fever not followed by others. It must be known whether he attended +others while this case was in progress, whether he went directly from one +chamber to others, whether he took any, and what precautions. It is +important to know that several women were exposed to infection derived +from the patient, so that allowance may be made for want of +predisposition. Now if of negative facts so sifted there could be +accumulated a hundred for every one plain instance of communication here +recorded, I trust it need not be said that we are bound to guard and +watch over the hundredth tenant of our fold, though the ninety and nine +may be sure of escaping the wolf at its entrance. If any one is +disposed, then, to take a hundred instances of lives endangered or +sacrificed out of those I have mentioned, and make it reasonably clear +that within a similar time and compass ten thousand escaped the same +exposure, I shall thank him for his industry, but I must be permitted to +hold to my own practical conclusions, and beg him to adopt or at least to +examine them also. Children that walk in calico before open fires are not +always burned to death; the instances to the contrary may be worth +recording; but by no means if they are to be used as arguments against +woollen frocks and high fenders. + +I am not sure that this paper will escape another remark which it might +be wished were founded in justice. It may be said that the facts are too +generally known and acknowledged to require any formal argument or +exposition, that there is nothing new in the positions advanced, and no +need of laying additional statements before the Profession. But on +turning to two works, one almost universally, and the other extensively +appealed to as authority in this country, I see ample reason to overlook +this objection. In the last edition of Dewees's Treatise on the +"Diseases of Females," it is expressly said, "In this country, under no +circumstance that puerperal fever has appeared hitherto, does it afford +the slightest ground for the belief that it is contagious." In the +"Philadelphia Practice of Midwifery" not one word can be found in the +chapter devoted to this disease which would lead the reader to suspect +that the idea of contagion had ever been entertained. It seems proper, +therefore, to remind those who are in the habit of referring to these +works for guidance, that there may possibly be some sources of danger +they have slighted or omitted, quite as important as a trifling +irregularity of diet, or a confined state of the bowels, and that +whatever confidence a physician may have in his own mode of treatment, +his services are of questionable value whenever he carries the bane as +well as the antidote about his person. + +The practical point to be illustrated is the following: + +The disease known as Puerperal Fever is so far contagious as to be +frequently carried from patient to patient by physicians and nurses. + +Let me begin by throwing out certain incidental questions, which, without +being absolutely essential, would render the subject more complicated, +and by making such concessions and assumptions as may be fairly supposed +to be without the pale of discussion. + +1. It is granted that all the forms of what is called puerperal fever +may not be, and probably are not, equally contagious or infectious. I do +not enter into the distinctions which have been drawn by authors, because +the facts do not appear to me sufficient to establish any absolute line +of demarcation between such forms as may be propagated by contagion and +those which are never so propagated. This general result I shall only +support by the authority of Dr. Ramsbotham, who gives, as the result of +his experience, that the same symptoms belong to what he calls the +infectious and the sporadic forms of the disease, and the opinion of +Armstrong in his original Essay. If others can show any such +distinction, I leave it to them to do it. But there are cases enough +that show the prevalence of the disease among the patients of a single +practitioner when it was in no degree epidemic, in the proper sense of +the term. I may refer to those of Mr. Roberton and of Dr. Peirson, +hereafter to be cited, as examples. + +2. I shall not enter into any dispute about the particular mode of +infection, whether it be by the atmosphere the physician carries about +him into the sick-chamber, or by the direct application of the virus to +the absorbing surfaces with which his hand comes in contact. Many facts +and opinions are in favor of each of these modes of transmission. But it +is obvious that in the majority of cases it must be impossible to decide +by which of these channels the disease is conveyed, from the nature of +the intercourse between the physician and the patient. + +3. It is not pretended that the contagion of puerperal fever must always +be followed by the disease. It is true of all contagious diseases, that +they frequently spare those who appear to be fully submitted to their +influence. Even the vaccine virus, fresh from the subject, fails every +day to produce its legitimate effect, though every precaution is taken to +insure its action. This is still more remarkably the case with scarlet +fever and some other diseases. + +4. It is granted that the disease may be produced and variously modified +by many causes besides contagion, and more especially by epidemic and +endemic influences. But this is not peculiar to the disease in question. +There is no doubt that small-pox is propagated to a great extent by +contagion, yet it goes through the same periods of periodical increase +and diminution which have been remarked in puerperal fever. If the +question is asked how we are to reconcile the great variations in the +mortality of puerperal fever in different seasons and places with the +supposition of contagion, I will answer it by another question from Mr. +Farr's letter to the Registrar-General. He makes the statement that +"five die weekly of small-pox in the metropolis when the disease is not +epidemic,"--and adds, "The problem for solution is,--Why do the five +deaths become 10, 15, 20, 31, 58, 88, weekly, and then progressively fall +through the same measured steps?" + +5. I take it for granted, that if it can be shown that great numbers of +lives have been and are sacrificed to ignorance or blindness on this +point, no other error of which physicians or nurses may be occasionally +suspected will be alleged in palliation of this; but that whenever and +wherever they can be shown to carry disease and death instead of health +and safety, the common instincts of humanity will silence every attempt +to explain away their responsibility. + +The treatise of Dr. Gordon of Aberdeen was published in the year 1795, +being among the earlier special works upon the disease. Apart of his +testimony has been occasionally copied into other works, but his +expressions are so clear, his experience is given with such manly +distinctness and disinterested honesty, that it may be quoted as a model +which might have been often followed with advantage. + +"This disease seized such women only as were visited, or delivered by a +practitioner, or taken care of by a nurse, who had previously attended +patients affected with the disease." + +"I had evident proofs of its infectious nature, and that the infection +was as readily communicated as that of the small-pox or measles, and +operated more speedily than any other infection with which I am +acquainted." + +"I had evident proofs that every person who had been with a patient in +the puerperal fever became charged with an atmosphere of infection, which +was communicated to every pregnant woman who happened to come within its +sphere. This is not an assertion, but a fact, admitting of +demonstration, as may be seen by a perusal of the foregoing +table,"--referring to a table of seventy-seven cases, in many of which +the channel of propagation was evident. + +He adds, "It is a disagreeable declaration for me to mention, that I +myself was the means of carrying the infection to a great number of +women." He then enumerates a number of instances in which the disease +was conveyed by midwives and others to the neighboring villages, and +declares that "these facts fully prove that the cause of the puerperal +fever, of which I treat, was a specific contagion, or infection, +altogether unconnected with a noxious constitution of the atmosphere." + +But his most terrible evidence is given in these words: "I ARRIVED AT +THAT CERTAINTY IN THE MATTER, THAT I COULD VENTURE TO FORETELL WHAT WOMEN +WOULD BE AFFECTED WITH THE DISEASE, UPON HEARING BY WHAT MIDWIFE THEY +WERE TO BE DELIVERED, OR BY WHAT NURSE THEY WERE TO BE ATTENDED, DURING +THEIR LYING-IN: AND ALMOST IN EVERY INSTANCE, MY PREDICTION WAS +VERIFIED." + +Even previously to Gordon, Mr. White of Manchester had said, "I am +acquainted with two gentlemen in another town, where the whole business +of midwifery is divided betwixt them, and it is very remarkable that one +of them loses several patients every year of the puerperal fever, and the +other never so much as meets with the disorder,"--a difference which he +seems to attribute to their various modes of treatment. [On the +Management of Lying-in Women, p. 120.] + +Dr. Armstrong has given a number of instances in his Essay on Puerperal +Fever, of the prevalence of the disease among the patients of a single +practitioner. At Sunderland, "in all, forty-three cases occurred from +the 1st of January to the 1st of October, when the disease ceased; and of +this number forty were witnessed by Mr. Gregson and his assistant, Mr. +Gregory, the remainder having been separately seen by three accoucheurs." +There is appended to the London edition of this Essay, a letter from Mr. +Gregson, in which that gentleman says, in reference to the great number +of cases occurring in his practice, "The cause of this I cannot pretend +fully to explain, but I should be wanting in common liberality if I were +to make any hesitation in asserting, that the disease which appeared in +my practice was highly contagious, and communicable from one puerperal +woman to another." "It is customary among the lower and middle ranks of +people to make frequent personal visits to puerperal women resident in +the same neighborhood, and I have ample evidence for affirming that the +infection of the disease was often carried about in that manner; and, +however painful to my feelings, I must in candor declare, that it is very +probable the contagion was conveyed, in some instances, by myself, though +I took every possible care to prevent such a thing from happening, the +moment that I ascertained that the distemper was infectious." Dr. +Armstrong goes on to mention six other instances within his knowledge, in +which the disease had at different times and places been limited, in the +same singular manner, to the practice of individuals, while it existed +scarcely if at all among the patients of others around them. Two of the +gentlemen became so convinced of their conveying the contagion, that they +withdrew for a time from practice. + +I find a brief notice, in an American Journal, of another series of +cases, first mentioned by Mr. Davies, in the "Medical Repository." This +gentleman stated his conviction that the disease is contagious. + +"In the autumn of 1822 he met with twelve cases, while his medical +friends in the neighborhood did not meet with any, 'or at least very +few.' He could attribute this circumstance to no other cause than his +having been present at the examination, after death, of two cases, some +time previous, and of his having imparted the disease to his patients, +notwithstanding every precaution." + +Dr. Gooch says, "It is not uncommon for the greater number of cases to +occur in the practice of one man, whilst the other practitioners of the +neighborhood, who are not more skilful or more busy, meet with few or +none. A practitioner opened the body of a woman who had died of +puerperal fever, and continued to wear the same clothes. A lady whom he +delivered a few days afterwards was attacked with and died of a similar +disease; two more of his lying-in patients, in rapid succession, met with +the same fate; struck by the thought, that he might have carried +contagion in his clothes, he instantly changed them, and 'met with no +more cases of the kind.' A woman in the country, who was employed as +washerwoman and nurse, washed the linen of one who had died of puerperal +fever; the next lying-in patient she nursed died of the same disease; a +third nursed by her met with the same fate, till the neighborhood, +getting afraid of her, ceased to employ her." + +In the winter of the year 1824, "Several instances occurred of its +prevalence among the patients of particular practitioners, whilst others +who were equally busy met with few or none. One instance of this kind +was very remarkable. A general practitioner, in large midwifery +practice, lost so many patients from puerperal fever, that he determined +to deliver no more for some time, but that his partner should attend in +his place. This plan was pursued for one month, during which not a case +of the disease occurred in their practice. The elder practitioner, being +then sufficiently recovered, returned to his practice, but the first +patient he attended was attacked by the disease and died. A physician, +who met him in consultation soon afterwards, about a case of a different +kind, and who knew nothing of his misfortune, asked him whether puerperal +fever was at all prevalent in his neighborhood, on which he burst into +tears, and related the above circumstances. + +"Among the cases which I saw this season in consultation, four occurred +in one month in the practice of one medical man, and all of them +terminated fatally." [Lond. Med. Gaz. May 2, 1835.] + +Dr. Ramsbotham asserted, in a Lecture at the London Hospital, that he had +known the disease spread through a particular district, or be confined to +the practice of a particular person, almost every patient being attacked +with it, while others had not a single case. It seemed capable, he +thought, of conveyance, not only by common modes; but through the dress +of the attendants upon the patient. + +In a letter to be found in the "London Medical Gazette" for January, +1840, Mr. Roberton of Manchester makes the statement which I here give in +a somewhat condensed form. + +A midwife delivered a woman on the 4th of December, 1830, who died soon +after with the symptoms of puerperal fever. In one month from this date +the same midwife delivered thirty women, residing in different parts of +an extensive suburb, of which number sixteen caught the disease and all +died. These were the only cases which had occurred for a considerable +time in Manchester. The other midwives connected with the same +charitable institution as the woman already mentioned are twenty-five in +number, and deliver, on an average, ninety women a week, or about three +hundred and eighty a month. None of these women had a case of puerperal +fever. "Yet all this time this woman was crossing the other midwives in +every direction, scores of the patients of the charity being delivered by +them in the very same quarters where her cases of fever were happening." + +Mr. Roberton remarks, that little more than half the women she delivered +during this month took the fever; that on some days all escaped, on +others only one or more out of three or four; a circumstance similar to +what is seen in other infectious maladies. + +Dr. Blundell says, "Those who have never made the experiment can have but +a faint conception how difficult it is to obtain the exact truth +respecting any occurrence in which feelings and interests are concerned. +Omitting particulars, then, I content myself with remarking, generally, +that from more than one district I have received accounts of the +prevalence of puerperal fever in the practice of some individuals, while +its occurrence in that of others, in the same neighborhood, was not +observed. Some, as I have been told, have lost ten, twelve, or a greater +number of patients, in scarcely broken succession; like their evil +genius, the puerperal fever has seemed to stalk behind them wherever they +went. Some have deemed it prudent to retire for a time from practice. +In fine, that this fever may occur spontaneously, I admit; that its +infectious nature may be plausibly disputed, I do not deny; but I add, +considerately, that in my own family I had rather that those I esteemed +the most should be delivered, unaided, in a stable, by the manger-side, +than that they should receive the best help, in the fairest apartment, +but exposed to the vapors of this pitiless disease. Gossiping friends, +wet-nurses, monthly nurses, the practitioner himself, these are the +channels by which, as I suspect, the infection is principally conveyed." + +At a meeting of the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society, Dr. King +mentioned that some years since a practitioner at Woolwich lost sixteen +patients from puerperal fever in the same year. He was compelled to give +up practice for one or two years, his business being divided among the +neighboring practitioners. No case of puerperal fever occurred +afterwards, neither had any of the neighboring surgeons any cases of this +disease. + +At the same meeting Mr. Hutchinson mentioned the occurrence of three +consecutive cases of puerperal fever, followed subsequently by two +others, all in the practice of one accoucheur.[Lancet, May 2, 1840.] + +Dr. Lee makes the following statement: "In the last two weeks of +September, 1827, five fatal cases of uterine inflammation came under our +observation. All the individuals so attacked had been attended in labor +by the same midwife, and no example of a febrile or inflammatory disease +of a serious nature occurred during that period among the other patients +of the Westminster General Dispensary, who had been attended by the other +midwives belonging to that institution." + +The recurrence of long series of cases like those I have cited, reported +by those most interested to disbelieve in contagion, scattered along +through an interval of half a century, might have been thought sufficient +to satisfy the minds of all inquirers that here was something more than a +singular coincidence. But if, on a more extended observation, it should +be found that the same ominous groups of cases clustering about +individual practitioners were observed in a remote country, at different +times, and in widely separated regions, it would seem incredible that any +should be found too prejudiced or indolent to accept the solemn truth +knelled into their ears by the funeral bells from both sides of the +ocean,--the plain conclusion that the physician and the disease entered, +hand in hand, into the chamber of the unsuspecting patient. + +That such series of cases have been observed in this country, and in this +neighborhood, I proceed to show. + +In Dr. Francis's "Notes to Denman's Midwifery," a passage is cited from +Dr. Hosack, in which he refers to certain puerperal cases which proved +fatal to several lying-in women, and in some of which the disease was +supposed to be conveyed by the accoucheurs themselves. + +A writer in the "New York Medical and Physical Journal" for October, +1829, in speaking of the occurrence of puerperal fever, confined to one +man's practice, remarks, "We have known cases of this kind occur, though +rarely, in New York." + +I mention these little hints about the occurrence of such cases, partly +because they are the first I have met with in American medical +literature, but more especially because they serve to remind us that +behind the fearful array of published facts there lies a dark list of +similar events, unwritten in the records of science, but long remembered +by many a desolated fireside. + +Certainly nothing can be more open and explicit than the account given by +Dr. Peirson of Salem, of the cases seen by him. In the first nineteen +days of January, 1829, he had five consecutive cases of puerperal fever, +every patient he attended being attacked, and the three first cases +proving fatal. In March of the same year he had two moderate cases, in +June, another case, and in July, another, which proved fatal. "Up to +this period," he remarks, "I am not informed that a single case had +occurred in the practice of any other physician. Since that period I +have had no fatal case in my practice, although I have had several +dangerous cases. I have attended in all twenty cases of this disease, of +which four have been fatal. I am not aware that there has been any other +case in the town of distinct puerperal peritonitis, although I am willing +to admit my information may be very defective on this point. I have been +told of some I 'mixed cases,' and 'morbid affections after delivery.'" + +In the "Quarterly Summary of the Transactions of the College of +Physicians of Philadelphia" may be found some most extraordinary +developments respecting a series of cases occurring in the practice of a +member of that body. + +Dr. Condie called the attention of the Society to the prevalence, at the +present time, of puerperal fever of a peculiarly insidious and malignant +character. "In the practice of one gentleman extensively engaged as an +obstetrician, nearly every female he has attended in confinement, during +several weeks past, within the above limits" (the southern sections and +neighboring districts), "had been attacked by the fever." + +"An important query presents itself, the Doctor observed, in reference to +the particular form of fever now prevalent. Is it, namely, capable of +being propagated by contagion, and is a physician who has been in +attendance upon a case of the disease warranted in continuing, without +interruption, his practice as an obstetrician? Dr. C., although not a +believer in the contagious character of many of those affections +generally supposed to be propagated in this manner, has nevertheless +become convinced by the facts that have fallen under his notice, that the +puerperal fever now prevailing is capable of being communicated by +contagion. How otherwise can be explained the very curious circumstance +of the disease in one district being exclusively confined to the practice +of a single physician, a Fellow of this College, extensively engaged in +obstetrical practice,--while no instance of the disease has occurred in +the patients under the care of any other accoucheur practising within the +same district; scarcely a female that has been delivered for weeks past +has escaped an attack?" + +Dr. Rutter, the practitioner referred to, "observed that, after the +occurrence of a number of cases of the disease in his practice, he had +left the city and remained absent for a week, but on returning, no +article of clothing he then wore having been used by him before, one of +the very first cases of parturition he attended was followed by an attack +of the fever, and terminated fatally; he cannot, readily, therefore, +believe in the transmission of the disease from female to female, in the +person or clothes of the physician." + +The meeting at which these remarks were made was held on the 3d of May, +1842. In a letter dated December 20, 1842, addressed to Dr. Meigs, and +to be found in the "Medical Examiner," he speaks of "those horrible +cases of puerperal fever, some of which you did me the favor to see with +me during the past summer," and talks of his experience in the disease, +"now numbering nearly seventy cases, all of which have occurred within +less than a twelvemonth past." + +And Dr. Meigs asserts, on the same page, "Indeed, I believe that his +practice in that department of the profession was greater than that of +any other gentleman, which was probably the cause of his seeing a greater +number of the cases." This from a professor of midwifery, who some time +ago assured a gentleman whom he met in consultation, that the night on +which they met was the eighteenth in succession that he himself had been +summoned from his repose, seems hardly satisfactory. + +I must call the attention of the inquirer most particularly to the +Quarterly Report above referred to, and the letters of Dr. Meigs and Dr. +Rutter, to be found in the "Medical Examiner." Whatever impression they +may produce upon his mind, I trust they will at least convince him that +there is some reason for looking into this apparently uninviting subject. + +At a meeting of the College of Physicians just mentioned, Dr. Warrington +stated, that a few days after assisting at an autopsy of puerperal +peritonitis, in which he laded out the contents of the abdominal cavity +with his hands, he was called upon to deliver three women in rapid +succession. All of these women were attacked with different forms of +what is commonly called puerperal fever. Soon after these he saw two +other patients, both on the same day, with the same disease. Of these +five patients two died. + +At the same meeting, Dr. West mentioned a fact related to him by Dr. +Samuel Jackson of Northumberland. Seven females, delivered by Dr. +Jackson in rapid succession, while practising in Northumberland County, +were all attacked with puerperal fever, and five of them died. "Women," +he said, "who had expected me to attend upon them, now becoming alarmed, +removed out of my reach, and others sent for a physician residing several +miles distant. These women, as well as those attended by midwives; all +did well; nor did we hear of any deaths in child-bed within a radius of +fifty miles, excepting two, and these I afterwards ascertained to have +been caused by other diseases." He underwent, as he thought, a thorough +purification, and still his next patient was attacked with the disease +and died. He was led to suspect that the contagion might have been +carried in the gloves which he had worn in attendance upon the previous +cases. Two months or more after this he had two other cases. He could +find nothing to account for these, unless it were the instruments for +giving enemata, which had been used in two of the former cases, and were +employed by these patients. When the first case occurred, he was +attending and dressing a limb extensively mortified from erysipelas, and +went immediately to the accouchement with his clothes and gloves most +thoroughly imbued with its efluvia. And here I may mention, that this +very Dr. Samuel Jackson of Northumberland is one of Dr. Dewees's +authorities against contagion. + +The three following statements are now for the first time given to the +public. All of the cases referred to occurred within this State, and two +of the three series in Boston and its immediate vicinity. + +I. The first is a series of cases which took place during the last +spring in a town at some distance from this neighborhood. A physician of +that town, Dr. C., had the following consecutive cases. + + No. 1, delivered March 20, died March 24. + " 2, " April 9, " April 14. + " 3, " " 10, " " 14. + " 4, " " 11, " " 18. + " 5, " " 27, " May 3. + " 6, " " 28, had some symptoms,(recovered.) + " 7, " May 8, had some symptoms,(also recovered.) + +These were the only cases attended by this physician during the period +referred to. "They were all attended by him until their termination, +with the exception of the patient No. 6, who fell into the hands of +another physician on the 2d of May. (Dr. C. left town for a few days at +this time.) Dr. C. attended cases immediately before and after the +above-named periods, none of which, however, presented any peculiar +symptoms of the disease." + +About the 1st of July he attended another patient in a neighboring +village, who died two or three days after delivery. + +The first patient, it is stated, was delivered on the 20th of March. "On +the 19th, Dr. C. made the autopsy of a man who died suddenly, sick only +forty-eight hours; had oedema of the thigh, and gangrene extending from a +little above the ankle into the cavity of the abdomen." Dr. C. wounded +himself, very slightly, in the right hand during the autopsy. The hand +was quite painful the night following, during his attendance on the +patient No. 1. He did not see this patient after the 20th, being +confined to the house, and very sick from the wound just mentioned, from +this time until the 3d of April. + +Several cases of erysipelas occurred in the house where the autopsy +mentioned above took place, soon after the examination. There were also +many cases of erysipelas in town at the time of the fatal puerperal cases +which have been mentioned. + +The nurse who laid out the body of the patient No. 3 was taken on the +evening of the same day with sore throat and erysipelas, and died in ten +days from the first attack. + +The nurse who laid out the body of the patient No. 4 was taken on the day +following with symptoms like those of this patient, and died in a week, +without any external marks of erysipelas. + +"No other cases of similar character with those of Dr. C. occurred in the +practice of any of the physicians in the town or vicinity at the time. +Deaths following confinement have occurred in the practice of other +physicians during the past year, but they were not cases of puerperal +fever. No post-mortem examinations were held in any of these puerperal +cases." + +Some additional statements in this letter are deserving of insertion. + +"A physician attended a woman in the immediate neighborhood of the cases +numbered 2, 3, and 4. This patient was confined the morning of March +1st, and died on the night of March 7th. It is doubtful whether this +should be considered a case of puerperal fever. She had suffered from +canker, indigestion, and diarrhoea for a year previous to her delivery. +Her complaints were much aggravated for two or three months previous to +delivery; she had become greatly emaciated, and weakened to such an +extent that it had not been expected that she would long survive her +confinement, if indeed she reached that period. Her labor was easy +enough; she flowed a good deal, seemed exceedingly prostrated, had +ringing in the ears, and other symptoms of exhaustion; the pulse was +quick and small. On the second and third day there was some tenderness +and tumefaction of the abdomen, which increased somewhat on the fourth +and fifth. He had cases in midwifery before and after this, which +presented nothing peculiar." + +It is also mentioned in the same letter, that another physician had a +case during the last summer and another last fall, both of which +recovered. + +Another gentleman reports a case last December, a second case five weeks, +and another three weeks since. All these recovered. A case also +occurred very recently in the practice of a physician in the village +where the eighth patient of Dr. C. resides, which proved fatal. "This +patient had some patches of erysipelas on the legs and arms. The same +physician has delivered three cases since, which have all done well. +There have been no other cases in this town or its vicinity recently. +There have been some few cases of erysipelas." It deserves notice that +the partner of Dr. C., who attended the autopsy of the man above +mentioned and took an active part in it; who also suffered very slightly +from a prick under the thumb-nail received during the examination, had +twelve cases of midwifery between March 26th and April 12th, all of which +did well, and presented no peculiar symptoms. It should also be stated, +that during these seventeen days he was in attendance on all the cases of +erysipelas in the house where the autopsy had been performed. + +I owe these facts to the prompt kindness of a gentleman whose +intelligence and character are sufficient guaranty for their accuracy. + +The two following letters were addressed to my friend Dr. Scorer, by the +gentleman in whose practice the cases of puerperal fever occurred. His +name renders it unnecessary to refer more particularly to these +gentlemen, who on their part have manifested the most perfect freedom and +courtesy in affording these accounts of their painful experience. + +"January 28, 1843. + +II. . . . "The time to which you allude was in 1830. The first case +was in February, during a very cold time. She was confined the 4th, and +died the 12th. Between the 10th and 28th of this month, I attended six +women in labor, all of whom did well except the last, as also two who +were confined March 1st and 5th. Mrs. E., confined February 28th, +sickened, and died March 8th. The next day, 9th, I inspected the body, +and the night after attended a lady, Mrs. B., who sickened, and died +16th. The 10th, I attended another, Mrs. G., who sickened, but +recovered. March 16th, I went from Mrs. G.'s room to attend a Mrs. H., +who sickened, and died 21st. The 17th, I inspected Mrs. B. On the 19th, +I went directly from Mrs. H.'s room to attend another lady, Mrs. G., who +also sickened, and died 22d. While Mrs. B. was sick, on 15th, I went +directly from her room a few rods, and attended another woman, who was +not sick. Up to 20th of this month I wore the same clothes. I now +refused to attend any labor, and did not till April 21st, when, having +thoroughly cleansed myself, I resumed my practice, and had no more +puerperal fever. + +"The cases were not confined to a narrow space. The two nearest were +half a mile from each other, and half that distance from my residence. +The others were from two to three miles apart, and nearly that distance +from my residence. There were no other cases in their immediate vicinity +which came to my knowledge. The general health of all the women was +pretty good, and all the labors as good as common, except the first. +This woman, in consequence of my not arriving in season, and the child +being half-born at some time before I arrived, was very much exposed to +the cold at the time of confinement, and afterwards, being confined in a +very open, cold room. Of the six cases you perceive only one recovered. + +"In the winter of 1817 two of my patients had puerperal fever, one very +badly, the other not so badly. Both recovered. One other had swelled +leg, or phlegmasia dolens, and one or two others did not recover as well +as usual. + +"In the summer of 1835 another disastrous period occurred in my practice. +July 1st, I attended a lady in labor, who was afterwards quite ill and +feverish; but at the time I did not consider her case a decided puerperal +fever. On the 8th, I attended one who did well. On the 12th, one who was +seriously sick. This was also an equivocal case, apparently arising from +constipation and irritation of the rectum. These women were ten miles +apart and five from my residence. On 15th and 20th, two who did well. On +25th, I attended another. This was a severe labor, and followed by +unequivocal puerperal fever, or peritonitis. She recovered. August 2d +and 3d, in about twenty-four hours I attended four persons. Two of them +did very well; one was attacked with some of the common symptoms, which +however subsided in a day or two, and the other had decided puerperal +fever, but recovered. This woman resided five miles from me. Up to this +time I wore the same coat. All my other clothes had frequently been +changed. On 6th, I attended two women, one of whom was not sick at all; +but the other, Mrs. L., was afterwards taken ill. On 10th, I attended a +lady, who did very well. I had previously changed all my clothes, and +had no garment on which had been in a puerperal room. On 12th, I was +called to Mrs. S., in labor. While she was ill, I left her to visit Mrs. +L., one of the ladies who was confined on 6th. Mrs. L. had been more +unwell than usual, but I had not considered her case anything more than +common till this visit. I had on a surtout at this visit, which, on my +return to Mrs. S., I left in another room. Mrs. S. was delivered on +13th with forceps. These women both died of decided puerperal fever. + +"While I attended these women in their fevers, I changed my clothes, and +washed my hands in a solution of chloride of lime after each visit. I +attended seven women in labor during this period, all of whom recovered +without sickness. + +"In my practice I have had several single cases of puerperal fever, some +of whom have died and some have recovered. Until the year 1830 I had no +suspicion that the disease could be communicated from one patient to +another by a nurse or midwife; but I now think the foregoing facts +strongly favor that idea. I was so much convinced of this fact, that I +adopted the plan before related. + +"I believe my own health was as good as usual at each of the above +periods. I have no recollections to the contrary. + +"I believe I have answered all your questions. I have been more +particular on some points perhaps than necessary; but I thought you could +form your own opinion better than to take mine. In 1830 I wrote to Dr. +Charming a more particular statement of my cases. If I have not answered +your questions sufficiently, perhaps Dr. C. may have my letter to him, +and you can find your answer there." [In a letter to myself, this +gentleman also stated, "I do not recollect that there was any erysipelas +or any other disease particularly prevalent at the time."] + +"BOSTON, February 3, 1843. + +III. "MY DEAR SIR,--I received a note from you last evening, requesting +me to answer certain questions therein proposed, touching the cases of +puerperal fever which came under my observation the past summer. It +gives me pleasure to comply with your request, so far as it is in my +power so to do, but, owing to the hurry in preparing for a journey, the +notes of the cases I had then taken were lost or mislaid. The principal +facts, however, are too vivid upon my recollection to be soon forgotten. +I think, therefore, that I shall be able to give you all the information +you may require. + +"All the cases that occurred in my practice took place between the 7th of +May and the 17th of June 1842. + +"They were not confined to any particular part of the city. The first +two cases were patients residing at the South End, the next was at the +extreme North End, one living in Sea Street and the other in Roxbury. +The following is the order in which they occurred: + +"Case 1. Mrs._____ was confined on the 7th of May, at 5 o'clock, P. M., +after a natural labor of six hours. At 12 o'clock at night, on the 9th +(thirty-one hours after confinement), she was taken with severe chill, +previous to which she was as comfortable as women usually are under the +circumstances. She died on the 10th. + +"Case 2. Mrs._____ was confined on the 10th of June (four weeks after +Mrs. C.), at 11 A. M., after a natural, but somewhat severe labor of +five hours. At 7 o'clock, on the morning of the 11th, she had a chill. +Died on the 12th. + +"Case 3. Mrs._____ , confined on the 14th of June, was comfortable until +the 18th, when symptoms of puerperal fever were manifest. She died on +the 20th. + +"Case 4. Mrs._____ , confined June 17th, at 5 o'clock, A. M., was doing +well until the morning of the 19th. She died on the evening of the 21st. + +"Case 5. Mrs._____ was confined with her fifth child on the 17th of +June, at 6 o'clock in the evening. This patient had been attacked with +puerperal fever, at three of her previous confinements, but the disease +yielded to depletion and other remedies without difficulty. This time, I +regret to say, I was not so fortunate. She was not attacked, as were the +other patients, with a chill, but complained of extreme pain in abdomen, +and tenderness on pressure, almost from the moment of her confinement. +In this as in the other cases, the disease resisted all remedies, and she +died in great distress on the 22d of the same month. Owing to the +extreme heat of the season, and my own indisposition, none of the +subjects were examined after death. Dr. Channing, who was in attendance +with me on the three last cases, proposed to have a post-mortem +examination of the subject of case No. 5, but from some cause which I do +not now recollect it was not obtained. + +"You wish to know whether I wore the same clothes when attending the +different cases. I cannot positively say, but I should think I did not, +as the weather became warmer after the first two cases; I therefore think +it probable that I made a change of at least a part of my dress. I have +had no other case of puerperal fever in my own practice for three years, +save those above related, and I do not remember to have lost a patient +before with this disease. While absent, last July, I visited two +patients sick with puerperal fever, with a friend of mine in the country. +Both of them recovered. + +"The cases that I have recorded were not confined to any particular +constitution or temperament, but it seized upon the strong and the weak, +the old and the young,--one being over forty years, and the youngest +under eighteen years of age . . . . If the disease is of an +erysipelatous nature, as many suppose, contagionists may perhaps find +some ground for their belief in the fact, that, for two weeks previous to +my first case of puerperal fever, I had been attending a severe case of +erysipelas, and the infection may have been conveyed through me to the +patient; but, on the other hand, why is not this the case with other +physicians, or with the same physician at all times, for since my return +from the country I have had a more inveterate case of erysipelas than +ever before, and no difficulty whatever has attended any of my midwifery +cases?" + +I am assured, on unquestionable authority, that "About three years since, +a gentleman in extensive midwifery business, in a neighboring State, lost +in the course of a few weeks eight patients in child-bed, seven of them +being undoubted cases of puerperal fever. No other physician of the town +lost a single patient of this disease during the same period." And from +what I have heard in conversation with some of our most experienced +practitioners, I am inclined to think many cases of the kind might be +brought to light by extensive inquiry. + +This long catalogue of melancholy histories assumes a still darker aspect +when we remember how kindly nature deals with the parturient female, when +she is not immersed in the virulent atmosphere of an impure lying-in +hospital, or poisoned in her chamber by the unsuspected breath of +contagion. From all causes together, not more than four deaths in a +thousand births and miscarriages happened in England and Wales during the +period embraced by the first "Report of the Registrar-General." In the +second Report the mortality was shown to be about five in one thousand. +In the Dublin Lying-in Hospital, during the seven years of Dr. Collins's +mastership, there was one case of puerperal fever to 178 deliveries, or +less than six to the thousand, and one death from this disease in 278 +cases, or between three and four to the thousand a yet during this period +the disease was endemic in the hospital, and might have gone on to rival +the horrors of the pestilence of the Maternite, had not the poison been +destroyed by a thorough purification. + +In private practice, leaving out of view the cases that are to be +ascribed to the self-acting system of propagation, it would seem that the +disease must be far from common. Mr. White of Manchester says, "Out of +the whole number of lying-in patients whom I have delivered (and I may +safely call it a great one), I have never lost one, nor to the best of my +recollection has one been greatly endangered, by the puerperal, miliary, +low nervous, putrid malignant, or milk fever." Dr. Joseph Clarke informed +Dr. Collins, that in the course of forty-five years' most extensive +practice he lost but four patients from this disease. One of the most +eminent practitioners of Glasgow, who has been engaged in very extensive +practice for upwards of a quarter of a century, testifies that he never +saw more than twelve cases of real puerperal fever.[Lancet, May 4, 1833] + +I have myself been told by two gentlemen practising in this city, and +having for many years a large midwifery business, that they had neither +of them lost a patient from this disease, and by one of them that he had +only seen it in consultation with other physicians. In five hundred +cases of midwifery, of which Dr. Storer has given an abstract in the +first number of this Journal, there was only one instance of fatal +puerperal peritonitis. + +In the view of these facts, it does appear a singular coincidence, that +one man or woman should have ten, twenty, thirty, or seventy cases of +this rare disease following his or her footsteps with the keenness of a +beagle, through the streets and lanes of a crowded city, while the scores +that cross the same paths on the same errands know it only by name. It +is a series of similar coincidences which has led us to consider the +dagger, the musket, and certain innocent-looking white powders as having +some little claim to be regarded as dangerous. It is the practical +inattention to similar coincidences which has given rise to the +unpleasant but often necessary documents called indictments, which has +sharpened a form of the cephalotome sometimes employed in the case of +adults, and adjusted that modification of the fillet which delivers the +world of those who happen to be too much in the way while such striking +coincidences are taking place. + +I shall now mention a few instances in which the disease appears to have +been conveyed by the process of direct inoculation. + +Dr. Campbell of Edinburgh states that in October, 1821, he assisted at +the post-mortem examination of a patient who died with puerperal fever. +He carried the pelvic viscera in his pocket to the class-room. The same +evening he attended a woman in labor without previously changing his +clothes; this patient died. The next morning he delivered a woman with +the forceps; she died also, and of many others who were seized with the +disease within a few weeks, three shared the same fate in succession. + +In June, 1823, he assisted some of his pupils at the autopsy of a case of +puerperal fever. He was unable to wash his hands with proper care, for +want of the necessary accommodations. On getting home he found that two +patients required his assistance. He went without further ablution, or +changing his clothes; both these patients died with puerperal fever. +This same Dr. Campbell is one of Dr. Churchill's authorities against +contagion. + +Mr. Roberton says that in one instance within his knowledge a +practitioner passed the catheter for a patient with puerperal fever late +in the evening; the same night he attended a lady who had the symptoms of +the disease on the second day. In another instance a surgeon was called +while in the act of inspecting the body of a woman who had died of this +fever, to attend a labor; within forty-eight hours this patient was +seized with the fever.' + +On the 16th of March, 1831, a medical practitioner examined the body of a +woman who had died a few days after delivery, from puerperal peritonitis. +On the evening of the 17th he delivered a patient, who was seized with +puerperal fever on the 19th, and died on the 24th. Between this period +and the 6th of April, the same practitioner attended two other patients, +both of whom were attacked with the same disease and died. + +In the autumn of 1829 a physician was present at the examination of a +case of puerperal fever, dissected out the organs, and assisted in sewing +up the body. He had scarcely reached home when he was summoned to attend +a young lady in labor. In sixteen hours she was attacked with the +symptoms of puerperal fever, and narrowly escaped with her life. + +In December, 1830, a midwife, who had attended two fatal cases of +puerperal fever at the British Lying-in Hospital, examined a patient who +had just been admitted, to ascertain if labor had commenced. This patient +remained two days in the expectation that labor would come on, when she +returned home and was then suddenly taken in labor and delivered before +she could set out for the hospital. She went on favorably for two days, +and was then taken with puerperal fever and died in thirty-six hours. + +"A young practitioner, contrary to advice, examined the body of a patient +who had died from puerperal fever; there was no epidemic at the time; the +case appeared to be purely sporadic. He delivered three other women +shortly afterwards; they all died with puerperal fever, the symptoms of +which broke out very soon after labor. The patients of his colleague did +well, except one, where he assisted to remove some coagula from the +uterus; she was attacked in the same manner as those whom he had +attended, and died also." The writer in the "British and Foreign Medical +Review," from whom I quote this statement,--and who is no other than Dr. +Rigby, adds, "We trust that this fact alone will forever silence such +doubts, and stamp the well-merited epithet of 'criminal,' as above +quoted, upon such attempts." [Brit. and For. Medical Review for Jan. +1842, p. 112.] + +From the cases given by Mr. Ingleby, I select the following. Two +gentlemen, after having been engaged in conducting the post-mortem +examination of a case of puerperal fever, went in the same dress, each +respectively, to a case of midwifery. "The one patient was seized with +the rigor about thirty hours afterwards. The other patient was seized +with a rigor the third morning after delivery. One recovered, one died." +[Edin. Med. and Surg. Journal, April, 1838.] + +One of these same gentlemen attended another woman in the same clothes +two days after the autopsy referred to. "The rigor did not take place +until the evening of the fifth day from the first visit. Result fatal." +These cases belonged to a series of seven, the first of which was thought +to have originated in a case of erysipelas. "Several cases of a mild +character followed the foregoing seven, and their nature being now most +unequivocal, my friend declined visiting all midwifery cases for a time, +and there was no recurrence of the disease." These cases occurred in +1833. Five of them proved fatal. Mr. Ingleby gives another series of +seven eases which occurred to a practitioner in 1836, the first of which +was also attributed to his having opened several erysipelatous abscesses +a short time previously. + +I need not refer to the case lately read before this Society, in which a +physician went, soon after performing an autopsy of a case of puerperal +fever, to a woman in labor, who was seized with the same disease and +perished. The forfeit of that error has been already paid. + +At a meeting of the Medical and Chirurgical Society before referred to, +Dr. Merriman related an instance occurring in his own practice, which +excites a reasonable suspicion that two lives were sacrificed to a still +less dangerous experiment. He was at the examination of a case of +puerperal fever at two o'clock in the afternoon. He took care not to +touch the body. At nine o'clock the same evening he attended a woman in +labor; she was so nearly delivered that he had scarcely anything to do. +The next morning she had severe rigors, and in forty-eight hours she was +a corpse. Her infant had erysipelas and died in two days. [Lancet, May +2, 1840.] + +In connection with the facts which have been stated, it seems proper to +allude to the dangerous and often fatal effects which have followed from +wounds received in the post-mortem examination of patients who have died +of puerperal fever. The fact that such wounds are attended with peculiar +risk has been long noticed. I find that Chaussier was in the habit of +cautioning his students against the danger to which they were exposed in +these dissections. [Stein, L'Art d'Accoucher, 1794; Dict. des Sciences +Medicales, art. "Puerperal."] The head pharmacien of the Hotel Dieu, in +his analysis of the fluid effused in puerperal peritonitis, says that +practitioners are convinced of its deleterious qualities, and that it is +very dangerous to apply it to the denuded skin. [Journal de Pharmacie, +January, 1836.] Sir Benjamin Brodie speaks of it as being well known +that the inoculation of lymph or pus from the peritoneum of a puerperal +patient is often attended with dangerous and even fatal symptoms. Three +cases in confirmation of this statement, two of them fatal, have been +reported to this Society within a few months. + +Of about fifty cases of injuries of this kind, of various degrees of +severity, which I have collected from different sources, at least twelve +were instances of infection from puerperal peritonitis. Some of the +others are so stated as to render it probable that they may have been of +the same nature. Five other cases were of peritoneal inflammation; three +in males. Three were what was called enteritis, in one instance +complicated with erysipelas; but it is well known that this term has been +often used to signify inflammation of the peritoneum covering the +intestines. On the other hand, no case of typhus or typhoid fever is +mentioned as giving rise to dangerous consequences, with the exception of +the single instance of an undertaker mentioned by Mr. Travers, who seems +to have been poisoned by a fluid which exuded from the body. The other +accidents were produced by dissection, or some other mode of contact with +bodies of patients who had died of various affections. They also +differed much in severity, the cases of puerperal origin being among the +most formidable and fatal. Now a moment's reflection will show that the +number of cases of serious consequences ensuing from the dissection of +the bodies of those who had perished of puerperal fever is so vastly +disproportioned to the relatively small number of autopsies made in this +complaint as compared with typhus or pneumonia (from which last disease +not one case of poisoning happened), and still more from all diseases put +together, that the conclusion is irresistible that a most fearful morbid +poison is often generated in the course of this disease. Whether or not +it is sui generis, confined to this disease, or produced in some others, +as, for instance, erysipelas, I need, not stop to inquire. + +In connection with this may be taken the following statement of Dr. +Rigby. "That the discharges from a patient under puerperal fever are in +the highest degree contagious we have abundant evidence in the history of +lying-in hospitals. The puerperal abscesses are also contagious, and may +be communicated to healthy lying-in women by washing with the same +sponge; this fact has been repeatedly proved in the Vienna Hospital; but +they are equally communicable to women not pregnant; on more than one +occasion the women engaged in washing the soiled bed-linen of the General +Lying-in Hospital have been attacked with abscess in the fingers or +hands, attended with rapidly spreading inflammation of the cellular +tissue." + +Now add to all this the undisputed fact, that within the walls of +lying-in hospitals there is often generated a miasm, palpable as the +chlorine used to destroy it, tenacious so as in some cases almost to defy +extirpation, deadly in some institutions as the plague; which has killed +women in a private hospital of London so fast that they were buried two +in one coffin to conceal its horrors; which enabled Tonnelle to record +two hundred and twenty-two autopsies at the Maternite of Paris; which has +led Dr. Lee to express his deliberate conviction that the loss of life +occasioned by these institutions completely defeats the objects of their +founders; and out of this train of cumulative evidence, the multiplied +groups of cases clustering about individuals, the deadly results of +autopsies, the inoculation by fluids from the living patient, the +murderous poison of hospitals,--does there not result a conclusion that +laughs all sophistry to scorn, and renders all argument an insult? + +I have had occasion to mention some instances in which there was an +apparent relation between puerperal fever and erysipelas. The length to +which this paper has extended does not allow me to enter into the +consideration of this most important subject. I will only say, that the +evidence appears to me altogether satisfactory that some most fatal +series of puerperal fever have been produced by an infection originating +in the matter or effluvia of erysipelas. In evidence of some connection +between the two diseases, I need not go back to the older authors, as +Pouteau or Gordon, but will content myself with giving the following +references, with their dates; from which it will be seen that the +testimony has been constantly coming before the profession for the last +few years. + +"London Cyclopaedia of Practical Medicine," article Puerperal Fever, +1833. + +Mr. Ceeley's Account of the Puerperal Fever at Aylesbury. "Lancet," +1835. + +Dr. Ramsbotham's Lecture. "London Medical Gazette," 1835. + +Mr. Yates Ackerly's Letter in the same Journal, 1838. + +Mr. Ingleby on Epidemic Puerperal Fever. "Edinburgh Medical and Surgical +Journal," 1838. + +Mr. Paley's Letter. "London Medical Gazette," 1839. + +Remarks at the Medical and Chirurgical Society. "Lancet," 1840. + +Dr. Rigby's "System of Midwifery." 1841. + +"Nunneley on Erysipelas,"--a work which contains a large number of +references on the subject. 1841. + +"British and Foreign Quarterly Review," 1842. + +Dr. S. Jackson of Northumberland, as already quoted from the Summary of +the College of Physicians, 1842. + +And lastly, a startling series of cases by Mr. Storrs of Doncaster, to +be, found in the "American Journal of the Medical Sciences" for January, +1843. + +The relation of puerperal fever with other continued fevers would seem to +be remote and rarely obvious. Hey refers to two cases of synochus +occurring in the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh, in women who had attended +upon puerperal patients. Dr. Collins refers to several instances in +which puerperal fever has appeared to originate from a continued +proximity to patients suffering with typhus. + +Such occurrences as those just mentioned, though most important to be +remembered and guarded against, hardly attract our notice in the midst of +the gloomy facts by which they are surrounded. Of these facts, at the +risk of fatiguing repetitions, I have summoned a sufficient number, as I +believe, to convince the most incredulous that every attempt to disguise +the truth which underlies them all is useless. + +It is true that some of the historians of the disease, especially Hulme, +Hull, and Leake, in England; Tonnelle, Duges, and Baudelocque, in France, +profess not to have found puerperal fever contagious. At the most they +give us mere negative facts, worthless against an extent of evidence +which now overlaps the widest range of doubt, and doubles upon itself in +the redundancy of superfluous demonstration. Examined in detail, this and +much of the show of testimony brought up to stare the daylight of +conviction out of countenance, proves to be in a great measure unmeaning +and inapplicable, as might be easily shown were it necessary. Nor do I +feel the necessity of enforcing the conclusion which arises spontaneously +from the facts which have been enumerated, by formally citing the +opinions of those grave authorities who have for the last half-century +been sounding the unwelcome truth it has cost so many lives to establish. + +"It is to the British practitioner," says Dr. Rigby, "that we are +indebted for strongly insisting upon this important and dangerous +character of puerperal fever." + +The names of Gordon, John Clarke, Denman, Burns, Young, Hamilton, +Haighton, Good, Waller; Blundell, Gooch, Ramsbotham, Douglas, Lee, +Ingleby, Locock, Abercrombie, Alison; Travers, Rigby, and Watson, many of +whose writings I have already referred to, may have some influence with +those who prefer the weight of authorities to the simple deductions of +their own reason from the facts laid before them. A few Continental +writers have adopted similar conclusions. It gives me pleasure to +remember, that while the doctrine has been unceremoniously discredited in +one of the leading Journals, and made very light of by teachers in two of +the principal Medical Schools, of this country, Dr. Channing has for many +years inculcated, and enforced by examples, the danger to be apprehended +and the precautions to be taken in the disease under consideration. + +I have no wish to express any harsh feeling with regard to the painful +subject which has come before us. If there are any so far excited by the +story of these dreadful events that they ask for some word of indignant +remonstrance to show that science does not turn the hearts of its +followers into ice or stone, let me remind them that such words have been +uttered by those who speak with an authority I could not claim. It is as +a lesson rather than as a reproach that I call up the memory of these +irreparable errors and wrongs. No tongue can tell the heart-breaking +calamity they have caused; they have closed the eyes just opened upon a +new world of love and happiness; they have bowed the strength of manhood +into the dust; they have cast the helplessness of infancy into the +stranger's arms, or bequeathed it, with less cruelty, the death of its +dying parent. There is no tone deep enough for regret, and no voice loud +enough for warning. The woman about to become a mother, or with her +new-born infant upon her bosom, should be the object of trembling care +and sympathy wherever she bears her tender burden, or stretches her +aching limbs. The very outcast of the streets has pity upon her sister in +degradation, when the seal of promised maternity is impressed upon her. +The remorseless vengeance of the law, brought down upon its victim by a +machinery as sure as destiny, is arrested in its fall at a word which +reveals her transient claim for mercy. The solemn prayer of the liturgy +singles out her sorrows from the multiplied trials of life, to plead for +her in the hour of peril. God forbid that any member of the profession +to which she trusts her life, doubly precious at that eventful period, +should hazard it negligently, unadvisedly, or selfishly! + +There may be some among those whom I address who are disposed to ask the +question, What course are we to follow in relation to this matter? The +facts are before them, and the answer must be left to their own judgment +and conscience. If any should care to know my own conclusions, they are +the following; and in taking the liberty to state them very freely and +broadly, I would ask the inquirer to examine them as freely in the light +of the evidence which has been laid before him. + +1. A physician holding himself in readiness to attend cases of midwifery +should never take any active part in the post-mortem examination of cases +of puerperal fever. + +2. If a physician is present at such autopsies, he should use thorough +ablution, change every article of dress, and allow twenty-four hours or +more to elapse before attending to any case of midwifery. It may be well +to extend the same caution to cases of simple peritonitis. + +3. Similar precautions should be taken after the autopsy or surgical +treatment of cases of erysipelas, if the physician is obliged to unite +such offices with his obstetrical duties, which is in the highest degree +inexpedient. + +4. On the occurrence of a single case of puerperal fever in his +practice, the physician is bound to consider the next female he attends +in labor, unless some weeks at least have elapsed, as in danger of being +infected by him, and it is his duty to take every precaution to diminish +her risk of disease and death. + +5. If within a short period two cases of puerperal fever happen close to +each other, in the practice of the same physician, the disease not +existing or prevailing in the neighborhood, he would do wisely to +relinquish his obstetrical practice for at least one month, and endeavor +to free himself by every available means from any noxious influence he +may carry about with him. + +6. The occurrence of three or more closely connected cases, in the +practice of one individual, no others existing in the neighborhood, and +no other sufficient cause being alleged for the coincidence, is prima +facie evidence that he is the vehicle of contagion. + +7. It is the duty of the physician to take every precaution that the +disease shall not be introduced by nurses or other assistants, by making +proper inquiries concerning them, and giving timely warning of every +suspected source of danger. + +8. Whatever indulgence may be granted to those who have heretofore been +the ignorant causes of so much misery, the time has come when the +existence of a private pestilence in the sphere of a single physician +should be looked upon, not as a misfortune, but a crime; and in the +knowledge of such occurrences the duties of the practitioner to his +profession should give way to his paramount obligations to society. +ADDITIONAL REFERENCES AND CASES. + +Fifth Annual Report of the Registrar-General of England. + +1843. Appendix. Letter from William Farr, Esq.--Several new series of +cases are given in the Letter of Mr. Stows, contained in the Appendix to +this Report. Mr. Stows suggests precautions similar to those I have laid +down, and these precautions are strongly enforced by Mr. Farr, who is, +therefore, obnoxious to the same criticisms as myself. + +Hall and Dexter, in Am. Journal of Med. Sc. for January, 1844.--Cases +of puerperal fever seeming to originate in erysipelas. + +Elkington, of Birmingham, in Provincial Med. Journal, cited in Am. +Journ. Med. Se. for April, 1844.--Six cases in less than a fortnight, +seeming to originate in a case of erysipelas. + +West's Reports, in Brit. and For. Med. Review for October, 1845, and +January, 1847.--Affection of the arm, resembling malignant pustule, after +removing the placenta of a patient who died from puerperal fever. +Reference to cases at Wurzburg, as proving contagion, and to Keiller's +cases in the Monthly Journal for February, 1846, as showing connection of +puerperal fever and erysipelas. + +Kneeland.--Contagiousness of Puerperal Fever. Am. Jour. Med. Se., +January, 1846. Also, Connection between Puerperal Fever and Epidemic +Erysipelas. Ibid., April, 1846. + +Robert Storrs.--Contagious Effects of Puerperal Fever on the Male +Subject; or on Persons not Child-bearing. (From Provincial Med. and +Surg. Journal.) Am. Jour. Med. Sc., January, 184,6. Numerous cases. +See also Dr. Reid's case in same Journal for April, 1846. + +Routh's paper in Proc. of Royal Med. Chir. Soc., Am. Jour. Med. Sc., +April, 1849, also in B. and F. Med. Chir. Review, April, 1850. + +Hill, of Leuchars.--A Series of Cases illustrating the Contagious Nature +of Erysipelas and of Puerperal Fever, and their Intimate Pathological +Connection. (From Monthly Journal of Med. Sc.) Am. Jour. Med. Se., +July, 1850. + +Skoda on the Causes of Puerperal Fever. (Peritonitis in rabbits, from +inoculation with different morbid secretions.) Am. Jour. Med. Se., +October, 1850. + +Arneth. Paper read before the National Academy of Medicine. Annales +d'Hygiene, Tome LXV. 2e Partie. (Means of Disinfection proposed by M. +"Semmeliveis" (Semmelweiss.) Lotions of chloride of lime and use of +nail-brush before admission to lying-in wards. Alleged sudden and great +decrease of mortality from puerperal fever. Cause of disease attributed +to inoculation with cadaveric matters.) See also Routh's paper, mentioned +above. + +Moir. Remarks at a meeting of the Edinburgh Medico-Chirurgical Society. +Refers to cases of Dr. Kellie, of Leith. Sixteen in succession, all +fatal. Also to several instances of individual pupils having had a +succession of cases in various quarters of the town, while others, +practising as extensively in the same localities, had none. Also to +several special cases not mentioned elsewhere. Am. Jour. Med. Se. for +October, 1851. (From New Monthly Journal of Med. Science.) + +Simpson.--Observations at a Meeting of the Edinburgh Obstetrical Society. +(An "eminent gentleman," according to Dr. Meigs, whose "name is as well +known in America as in (his) native land." Obstetrics. Phil. 1852, pp. +368, 375.) The student is referred to this paper for a valuable resume of +many of the facts, and the necessary inferences, relating to this +subject. Also for another series of cases, Mr. Sidey's, five or six in +rapid succession. Dr. Simpson attended the dissection of two of Dr. +Sidey's cases, and freely handled the diseased parts. His next four +child-bed patients were affected with puerperal fever, and it was the +first time he had seen it in practice. As Dr. Simpson is a gentleman +(Dr. Meigs, as above), and as "a gentleman's hands are clean" (Dr. Meigs' +Sixth Letter), it follows that a gentleman with clean hands may carry the +disease. Am. Jour. Med. Sc., October, 1851. + +Peddle.--The five or six cases of Dr. Sidey, followed by the four of Dr. +Simpson, did not end the series. A practitioner in Leith having examined +in Dr. Simpson's house, a portion of the uterus obtained from one of the +patients, had immediately afterwards three fatal cases of puerperal +fever. Dr. Veddie referred to two distinct series of consecutive cases +in his own practice. He had since taken precautions, and not met with +any such cases. Am. Jour. Med. Sc., October, 1851. + +Copland. Considers it proved that puerperal fever maybe propagated by +the hands and the clothes, or either, of a third person, the bed-clothes +or body-clothes of a patient. Mentions a new series of cases, one of +which he saw, with the practitioner who had attended them. She was the +sixth he had had within a few days. All died. Dr. Copland insisted that +contagion had caused these cases; advised precautionary measures, and the +practitioner had no other cases for a considerable time. Considers it +criminal, after the evidence adduced,--which he could have +quadrupled,--and the weight of authority brought forward, for a +practitioner to be the medium of transmitting contagion and death to his +patients. Dr. Copland lays down rules similar to those suggested by +myself, and is therefore entitled to the same epithet for so doing. +Medical Dictionary, New York, 1852. Article, Puerperal States and +Diseases. + +If there is any appetite for facts so craving as to be yet +unappeased,--Lesotho, necdum satiata,--more can be obtained. Dr. Hodge +remarks that "the frequency and importance of this singular circumstance +(that the disease is occasionally more prevalent with one practitioner +than another) has been exceedingly overrated." More than thirty strings +of cases, more than two hundred and fifty sufferers from puerperal fever, +more than one hundred and thirty deaths appear as the results of a +sparing estimate of such among the facts I have gleaned as could be +numerically valued. These facts constitute, we may take it for granted, +but a small fraction of those that have actually occurred. The number of +them might be greater, but "'t is enough, 't will serve," in Mercutio's +modest phrase, so far as frequency is concerned. For a just estimate of +the importance of the singular circumstance, it might be proper to +consult the languid survivors, the widowed husbands, and the motherless +children, as well as "the unfortunate accoucheur." + + + + +III + +CURRENTS AND COUNTER-CURRENTS IN MEDICAL SCIENCE + +An Address delivered before the Massachusetts Medical Society, at the +Annual Meeting, May 30, 1860. + + "Facultate magis quam violentia." + HIPPOCRATES. + +Our Annual Meeting never fails to teach us at least one lesson. The art +whose province it is to heal and to save cannot protect its own ranks +from the inroads of disease and the waste of the Destroyer. + +Seventeen of our associates have been taken from us since our last +Anniversary. Most of them followed their calling in the villages or +towns that lie among the hills or along the inland streams. Only those +who have lived the kindly, mutually dependent life of the country, can +tell how near the physician who is the main reliance in sickness of all +the families throughout a thinly settled region comes to the hearts of +the people among whom he labors, how they value him while living, how +they cherish his memory when dead. For these friends of ours who have +gone before, there is now no more toil; they start from their slumbers no +more at the cry of pain; they sally forth no more into the storms; they +ride no longer over the lonely roads that knew them so well; their wheels +are rusting on their axles or rolling with other burdens; their watchful +eyes are closed to all the sorrows they lived to soothe. Not one of +these was famous in the great world; some were almost unknown beyond +their own immediate circle. But they have left behind them that loving +remembrance which is better than fame, and if their epitaphs are +chiselled briefly in stone, they are written at full length on living +tablets in a thousand homes to which they carried their ever-welcome aid +and sympathy. + +One whom we have lost, very widely known and honored, was a leading +practitioner of this city. His image can hardly be dimmed in your +recollection, as he stood before you only three years ago, filling the +same place with which I am now honored. To speak of him at all worthily, +would be to write the history of professional success, won without +special aid at starting, by toil, patience, good sense, pure character, +and pleasing manners; won in a straight uphill ascent, without one +breathing-space until he sat down, not to rest, but to die. If prayers +could have shielded him from the stroke, if love could have drawn forth +the weapon, and skill could have healed the wound, this passing tribute +might have been left to other lips and to another generation. + +Let us hope that our dead have at last found that rest which neither +summer nor winter, nor day nor night, had granted to their unending +earthly labors! And let us remember that our duties to our brethren do +not cease when they become unable to share our toils, or leave behind +them in want and woe those whom their labor had supported. It is +honorable to the Profession that it has organized an Association a for +the relief of its suffering members and their families; it owes this +tribute to the ill-rewarded industry and sacrifices of its less fortunate +brothers who wear out health and life in the service of humanity. I have +great pleasure in referring to this excellent movement, which gives our +liberal profession a chance to show its liberality, and serves to unite +us all, the successful and those whom fortune has cast down, in the bonds +of a true brotherhood. + +A medical man, as he goes about his daily business after twenty years of +practice, is apt to suppose that he treats his patients according to the +teachings of his experience. No doubt this is true to some extent; to +what extent depending much on the qualities of the individual. But it is +easy to prove that the prescriptions of even wise physicians are very +commonly founded on something quite different from experience. +Experience must be based on the permanent facts of nature. But a glance +at the prevalent modes of treatment of any two successive generations +will show that there is a changeable as well as a permanent element in +the art of healing; not merely changeable as diseases vary, or as new +remedies are introduced, but changeable by the going out of fashion of +special remedies, by the decadence of a popular theory from which their +fitness was deduced, or other cause not more significant. There is no +reason to suppose that the present time is essentially different in this +respect from any other. Much, therefore, which is now very commonly +considered to be the result of experience, will be recognized in the +next, or in some succeeding generation, as no such result at all, but as +a foregone conclusion, based on some prevalent belief or fashion of the +time. + +There are, of course, in every calling, those who go about the work of +the day before them, doing it according to the rules of their craft, and +asking no questions of the past or of the future, or of the aim and end +to which their special labor is contributing. These often consider and +call themselves practical men. They pull the oars of society, and have +no leisure to watch the currents running this or that way; let theorists +and philosophers attend to them. In the mean time, however, these +currents are carrying the practical men, too, and all their work may be +thrown away, and worse than thrown away, if they do not take knowledge of +them and get out of the wrong ones and into the right ones as soon as +they may. Sir Edward Parry and his party were going straight towards the +pole in one of their arctic expeditions, travelling at the rate of ten +miles a day. But the ice over which they travelled was drifting straight +towards the equator, at the rate of twelve miles a day, and yet no man +among them would have known that he was travelling two miles a day +backward unless he had lifted his eyes from the track in which he was +plodding. It is not only going backward that the plain practical workman +is liable to, if he will not look up and look around; he may go forward +to ends he little dreams of. It is a simple business for a mason to +build up a niche in a wall; but what if, a hundred years afterwards when +the wall is torn down, the skeleton of a murdered man drop out of the +niche? It was a plain practical piece of carpentry for a Jewish artisan +to fit two pieces of timber together according to the legal pattern in +the time of Pontius Pilate; he asked no questions, perhaps, but we know +what burden the cross bore on the morrow! And so, with subtler tools +than trowels or axes, the statesman who works in policy without +principle, the theologian who works in forms without a soul, the +physician who, calling himself a practical man, refuses to recognize the +larger laws which govern his changing practice, may all find that they +have been building truth into the wall, and hanging humanity upon the +cross. + +The truth is, that medicine, professedly founded on observation, is as +sensitive to outside influences, political, religious, philosophical, +imaginative, as is the barometer to the changes of atmospheric density. +Theoretically it ought to go on its own straightforward inductive path, +without regard to changes of government or to fluctuations of public +opinion. But look a moment while I clash a few facts together, and see +if some sparks do not reveal by their light a closer relation between the +Medical Sciences and the conditions of Society and the general thought of +the time, than would at first be suspected. + +Observe the coincidences between certain great political and intellectual +periods and the appearance of illustrious medical reformers and teachers. +It was in the age of Pericles, of Socrates, of Plato, of Phidias, that +Hippocrates gave to medical knowledge the form which it retained for +twenty centuries. With the world-conquering Alexander, the +world-embracing Aristotle, appropriating anatomy and physiology, among +his manifold spoils of study, marched abreast of his royal pupil to wider +conquests. Under the same Ptolemies who founded the Alexandrian Library +and Museum, and ordered the Septuagint version of the Hebrew Scriptures, +the infallible Herophilus ["Contradicere Herophilo in anatomicis, est +contradicere evangelium," was a saying of Fallopius.] made those six +hundred dissections of which Tertullian accused him, and the sagacious +Erasistratus introduced his mild antiphlogistic treatment in opposition +to the polypharmacy and antidotal practice of his time. It is significant +that the large-minded Galen should have been the physician and friend of +the imperial philosopher Marcus Aurelius. The Arabs gave laws in various +branches of knowledge to those whom their arms had invaded, or the terror +of their spreading dominion had reached, and the point from which they +started was, as Humboldt acknowledges, "the study of medicine, by which +they long ruled the Christian Schools," and to which they added the +department of chemical pharmacy. + +Look at Vesalius, the contemporary of Luther. Who can fail to see one +common spirit in the radical ecclesiastic and the reforming +court-physician? Both still to some extent under the dominion of the +letter: Luther holding to the real presence; Vesalius actually causing to +be drawn and engraved two muscles which he knew were not found in the +human subject, because they had been described by Galen, from dissections +of the lower animals. Both breaking through old traditions in the search +of truth; one, knife in hand, at the risk of life and reputation, the +other at the risk of fire and fagot, with that mightier weapon which all +the devils could not silence, though they had been thicker than the tiles +on the house-tops. How much the physician of the Catholic Charles V. had +in common with the great religious destructive, may be guessed by the +relish with which he tells the story how certain Pavian students exhumed +the body of an "elegans scortum," or lovely dame of ill repute, the +favorite of a monk of the order of St. Anthony, who does not seem to have +resisted temptation so well as the founder of his order. We have always +ranked the physician Rabelais among the early reformers, but I do not +know that Vesalius has ever been thanked for his hit at the morals of the +religious orders, or for turning to the good of science what was intended +for the "benefit of clergy." + +Our unfortunate medical brother, Michael Servetus, the spiritual patient +to whom the theological moxa was applied over the entire surface for the +cure of his heresy, came very near anticipating Harvey. The same +quickened thought of the time which led him to dispute the dogma of the +Church, opened his mind to the facts which contradicted the dogmas of the +Faculty. + +Harvey himself was but the posthumous child of the great Elizabethan +period. Bacon was at once his teacher and his patient. The founder of +the new inductive philosophy had only been dead two years when the +treatise on the Circulation, the first-fruit of the Restoration of +Science, was given to the world. + +And is it to be looked at as a mere accidental coincidence, that while +Napoleon was modernizing the political world, Bichat was revolutionizing +the science of life and the art that is based upon it; that while the +young general was scaling the Alps, the young surgeon was climbing the +steeper summits of unexplored nature; that the same year read the +announcement of those admirable "Researches on Life and Death," and the +bulletins of the battle of Marengo? + +If we come to our own country, who can fail to recognize that Benjamin +Rush, the most conspicuous of American physicians, was the intellectual +offspring of the movement which produced the Revolution? "The same hand," +says one of his biographers, "which subscribed the declaration of the +political independence of these States, accomplished their emancipation +from medical systems formed in foreign countries, and wholly unsuitable +to the state of diseases in America." + +Following this general course of remark, I propose to indicate in a few +words the direction of the main intellectual current of the time, and to +point out more particularly some of the eddies which tend to keep the +science and art of medicine from moving with it, or even to carry them +backwards. + +The two dominant words of our time are law and average, both pointing to +the uniformity of the order of being in which we live. Statistics have +tabulated everything,--population, growth, wealth, crime, disease. We +have shaded maps showing the geographical distribution of larceny and +suicide. Analysis and classification have been at work upon all tangible +and visible objects. The Positive Philosophy of Comte has only given +expression to the observing and computing mind of the nineteenth century. + +In the mean time, the great stronghold of intellectual conservatism, +traditional belief, has been assailed by facts which would have been +indicted as blasphemy but a few generations ago. Those new tables of the +law, placed in the hands of the geologist by the same living God who +spoke from Sinai to the Israelites of old, have remodelled the beliefs of +half the civilized world. The solemn scepticism of science has replaced +the sneering doubts of witty philosophers. The more positive knowledge +we gain, the more we incline to question all that has been received +without absolute proof. + +As a matter of course, this movement has its partial reactions. The +province of faith is claimed as a port free of entry to unsupported +individual convictions. The tendency to question is met by the +unanalyzing instinct of reverence. The old church calls back its +frightened truants. Some who have lost their hereditary religious belief +find a resource in the revelations of Spiritualism. By a parallel +movement, some of those who have become medical infidels pass over to the +mystic band of believers in the fancied miracles of Homoeopathy. + +Under these influences transmitted to, or at least shared by, the medical +profession, the old question between "Nature," so called, and "Art," or +professional tradition, has reappeared with new interest. I say the old +question, for Hippocrates stated the case on the side of "Nature" more +than two thousand years ago. Miss Florence Nightingale,--and if I name +her next to the august Father of the Healing Art, its noblest daughter +well deserves that place of honor,--Miss Florence Nightingale begins her +late volume with a paraphrase of his statement. But from a very early +time to this there has always been a strong party against "Nature." +Themison called the practice of Hippocrates "a meditation upon death." +Dr. Rush says: "It is impossible to calculate the mischief which +Hippocrates, has done, by first marking Nature with his name and +afterwards letting her loose upon sick people. Millions have perished by +her hands in all ages and countries." Sir John Forbes, whose defence of +"Nature" in disease you all know, and to the testimonial in whose honor +four of your Presidents have contributed, has been recently greeted, on +retiring from the profession, with a wish that his retirement had been +twenty years sooner, and the opinion that no man had done so much to +destroy the confidence of the public in the medical profession. + +In this Society we have had the Hippocratic and the Themisonic side +fairly represented. The treatise of one of your early Presidents on the +Mercurial Treatment is familiar to my older listeners. Others who have +held the same office have been noted for the boldness of their practice, +and even for partiality to the use of complex medication. + +On the side of "Nature" we have had, first of all, that remarkable +discourse on Self-Limited Diseases, [On Self-Limited Diseases. A +Discourse delivered before the Massachusetts Medical Society, at their +Annual Meeting, May 27, 1835. By Jacob Bigelow, M. D.] which has given +the key-note to the prevailing medical tendency of this neighborhood, at +least, for the quarter of a century since it was delivered. Nor have we +forgotten the address delivered at Springfield twenty years later, +[Search out the Secrets, of Nature. By Augustus A. Gould, M. D. Read +at the Annual Meeting, June 27, 1855.] full of good sense and useful +suggestions, to one of which suggestions we owe the learned, impartial, +judicious, well-written Prize Essay of Dr. Worthington Hooker. [Rational +Therapeutics. A Prize Essay. By Worthington Hooker, M. D., of New +Haven. Boston. 1857.] We should not omit from the list the important +address of another of our colleagues, [On the Treatment of Compound and +Complicated Fractures. By William J. Walker, M. D. Read at the Annual +Meeting, May 29, 1845.] showing by numerous cases the power of Nature in +healing compound fractures to be much greater than is frequently +supposed,--affording, indeed, more striking illustrations than can be +obtained from the history of visceral disease, of the supreme wisdom, +forethought, and adaptive dexterity of that divine Architect, as shown in +repairing the shattered columns which support the living temple of the +body. + +We who are on the side of "Nature" please ourselves with the idea that we +are in the great current in which the true intelligence of the time is +moving. We believe that some who oppose, or fear, or denounce our +movement are themselves caught in various eddies that set back against +the truth. And we do most earnestly desire and most actively strive, +that Medicine, which, it is painful to remember, has been spoken of as +"the withered branch of science" at a meeting of the British Association, +shall be at length brought fully to share, if not to lead, the great wave +of knowledge which rolls with the tides that circle the globe. + +If there is any State or city which might claim to be the American +headquarters of the nature-trusting heresy, provided it be one, that +State is Massachusetts, and that city is its capital. The effect which +these doctrines have upon the confidence reposed in the profession is a +matter of opinion. For myself, I do not believe this confidence can be +impaired by any investigations which tend to limit the application of +troublesome, painful, uncertain, or dangerous remedies. Nay, I will +venture to say this, that if every specific were to fail utterly, if the +cinchona trees all died out, and the arsenic mines were exhausted, and +the sulphur regions were burned up, if every drug from the vegetable, +animal, and mineral kingdom were to disappear from the market, a body of +enlightened men, organized as a distinct profession, would be required +just as much as now, and respected and trusted as now, whose province +should be to guard against the causes of disease, to eliminate them if +possible when still present, to order all the conditions of the patient +so as to favor the efforts of the system to right itself, and to give +those predictions of the course of disease which only experience can +warrant, and which in so many cases relieve the exaggerated fears of +sufferers and their friends, or warn them in season of impending danger. +Great as the loss would be if certain active remedies could no longer be +obtained, it would leave the medical profession the most essential part +of it's duties, and all, and more than all, its present share of honors; +for it would be the death-blow to charlatanism, which depends for its +success almost entirely on drugs, or at least on a nomenclature that +suggests them. + +There is no offence, then, or danger in expressing the opinion, that, +after all which has been said, the community is still overdosed: The best +proof of it is, that "no families take so little medicine as those of +doctors, except those of apothecaries, and that old practitioners are +more sparing of active medicines than younger ones." [Dr. James Jackson +has kindly permitted me to make the following extract from a letter just +received by him from Sir James Clark, and dated May 26, 1860: "As a +physician advances in age, he generally, I think, places less confidence +in the ordinary medical treatment than he did, not only during his early, +but even his middle period of life."] The conclusion from these facts is +one which the least promising of Dr. Howe's pupils in the mental +department could hardly help drawing. + +Part of the blame of over-medication must, I fear, rest with the +profession, for yielding to the tendency to self-delusion, which seems +inseparable from the practice of the art of healing. I need only touch +on the common modes of misunderstanding or misapplying the evidence of +nature. + +First, there is the natural incapacity for sound observation, which is +like a faulty ear in music. We see this in many persons who know a good +deal about books, but who are not sharp-sighted enough to buy a horse or +deal with human diseases. + +Secondly, there is in some persons a singular inability to weigh the +value of testimony; of which, I think, from a pretty careful examination +of his books, Hahnemann affords the best specimen outside the walls of +Bedlam. + +The inveterate logical errors to which physicians have always been +subject are chiefly these: + +The mode of inference per enumerationem simplicem, in scholastic phrase; +that is, counting only their favorable cases. This is the old trick +illustrated in Lord Bacon's story of the gifts of the shipwrecked people, +hung up in the temple.--Behold! they vowed these gifts to the altar, and +the gods saved them. Ay, said a doubting bystander, but how many made +vows of gifts and were shipwrecked notwithstanding? The numerical system +is the best corrective of this and similar errors. The arguments +commonly brought against its application to all matters of medical +observation, treatment included, seem to apply rather to the tabulation +of facts ill observed, or improperly classified, than to the method +itself. + +The post hoc ergo propter hoc error: he got well after taking my +medicine; therefore in consequence of taking it. + +The false induction from genuine facts of observation, leading to the +construction of theories which are then deductively applied in the face +of the results of direct observation. The school of Broussais has +furnished us with a good example of this error. + +And lastly, the error which Sir Thomas Browne calls giving "a reason of +the golden tooth;" that is, assuming a falsehood as a fact, and giving +reasons for it, commonly fanciful ones, as is constantly done by that +class of incompetent observers who find their "golden tooth" in the +fabulous effects of the homoeopathie materia medica,--which consists of +sugar of milk and a nomenclature. + +Another portion of the blame rests with the public itself, which insists +on being poisoned. Somebody buys all the quack medicines that build +palaces for the mushroom, say rather, the toadstool millionaires. Who is +it? These people have a constituency of millions. The popular belief is +all but universal that sick persons should feed on noxious substances. +One of our members was called not long since to a man with a terribly +sore mouth. On inquiry he found that the man had picked up a box of +unknown pills, in Howard Street, and had proceeded to take them, on +general principles, pills being good for people. They happened to +contain mercury, and hence the trouble for which he consulted our +associate. + +The outside pressure, therefore, is immense upon the physician, tending +to force him to active treatment of some kind. Certain old +superstitions, still lingering in the mind of the public, and not yet +utterly expelled from that of the profession, are at the bottom of this, +or contribute to it largely. One of the most ancient is, that disease is +a malignant agency, or entity, to be driven out of the body by offensive +substances, as the smoke of the fish's heart and liver drove the devil +out of Tobit's bridal chamber, according to the Apochrypha. Epileptics +used to suck the blood from the wounds of dying gladiators. [Plinii Hist. +Mundi. lib. xxviii. c. 4.] The Hon. Robert Boyle's little book was +published some twenty or thirty years before our late President, Dr. +Holyoke, was born. [A Collection of Choice and Safe Remedies. The Fifth +Edition, corrected. London, 1712. Dr. Holyoke was born in 1728.] In it +he recommends, as internal medicines, most of the substances commonly +used as fertilizers of the soil. His "Album Graecum" is best left +untranslated, and his "Zebethum Occidentale" is still more +transcendentally unmentionable except in a strange dialect. It sounds +odiously to us to hear him recommend for dysentery a powder made from +"the sole of an old shoe worn by some man that walks much." Perhaps +nobody here ever heard of tying a stocking, which had been worn during +the day, round the neck at night for a sore throat. The same idea of +virtue in unlovely secretions! [The idea is very ancient. "Sordes +hominis" "Sudore et oleo medicinam facientibus."--Plin. xxviii. 4.] + +Even now the Homoeopathists have been introducing the venom of serpents, +under the learned title of Lachesis, and outraging human nature with +infusions of the pediculus capitis; that is, of course, as we understand +their dilutions, the names of these things; for if a fine-tooth-comb +insect were drowned in Lake Superior, we cannot agree with them in +thinking that every drop of its waters would be impregnated with all the +pedicular virtues they so highly value. They know what they are doing. +They are appealing to the detestable old superstitious presumption in +favor of whatever is nauseous and noxious as being good for the sick. + +Again, we all occasionally meet persons stained with nitrate of silver, +given for epilepsy. Read what Dr. Martin says, about the way in which it +came to be used, in his excellent address before the Norfolk County +Medical Society, and the evidence I can show, but have not time for now, +and then say what you think of the practice which on such presumptions +turns a white man as blue as the double-tattooed King of the Cannibal +Islands! [Note A.] + +If medical superstitions have fought their way down through all the +rationalism and scepticism of the nineteenth century, of course the +theories of the schools, supported by great names, adopted into the +popular belief and incorporated with the general mass of misapprehension +with reference to disease, must be expected to meet us at every turn in +the shape of bad practice founded on false doctrine. A French patient +complains that his blood heats him, and expects his doctor to bleed him. +An English or American one says he is bilious, and will not be easy +without a dose of calomel. A doctor looks at a patient's tongue, sees it +coated, and says the stomach is foul; his head full of the old saburral +notion which the extreme inflammation-doctrine of Broussais did so much +to root out, but which still leads, probably, to much needless and +injurious wrong of the stomach and bowels by evacuants, when all they +want is to be let alone. It is so hard to get anything out of the dead +hand of medical tradition! The mortmain of theorists extinct in science +clings as close as that of ecclesiastics defunct in law. + +One practical hint may not be out of place here. It seems to be +sometimes forgotten, by those who must know the fact, that the tongue is +very different, anatomically and physiologically, from the stomach. Its +condition does not in the least imply a similar one of the stomach, which +is a very different structure, covered with a different kind of +epithelium, and furnished with entirely different secretions. A +silversmith will, for a dollar, make a small hoe, of solid silver, which +will last for centuries, and will give a patient more comfort, used for +the removal of the accumulated epithelium and fungous growths which +constitute the "fur," than many a prescription with a split-footed Rx +before it, addressed to the parts out of reach. + +I think more of this little implement on account of its agency in saving +the Colony at Plymouth in the year 1623. Edward Winslow heard that +Massasoit was sick and like to die. He found him with a houseful of +people about him, women rubbing his arms and legs, and friends "making +such a hellish noise" as they probably thought would scare away the devil +of sickness. Winslow gave him some conserve, washed his mouth, scraped +his tongue, which was in a horrid state, got down some drink, made him +some broth, dosed him with an infusion of strawberry leaves and sassafras +root, and had the satisfaction of seeing him rapidly recover. Massasoit, +full of gratitude, revealed the plot which had been formed to destroy the +colonists, whereupon the Governor ordered Captain Miles Standish to see +to them; who thereupon, as everybody remembers, stabbed Pecksuot with his +own knife, broke up the plot, saved the colony, and thus rendered +Massachusetts and the Massachusetts Medical Society a possibility, as +they now are a fact before us. So much for this parenthesis of the +tongue-scraper, which helped to save the young colony from a much more +serious scrape, and may save the Union yet, if a Presidential candidate +should happen to be taken sick as Massasoit was, and his tongue wanted +cleaning,--which process would not hurt a good many politicians, with or +without a typhoid fever. + +Again, see how the "bilious" theory works in every-day life here and now, +illustrated by a case from actual life. A youthful practitioner, whose +last molars have not been a great while cut, meets an experienced and +noted physician in consultation. This is the case. A slender, lymphatic +young woman is suckling two lusty twins, the intervals of suction being +occupied on her part with palpitations, headaches, giddiness, throbbing +in the head, and various nervous symptoms, her cheeks meantime getting +bloodless, and her strength running away in company with her milk. The +old experienced physician, seeing the yellowish waxy look which is common +in anaemic patients, considers it a "bilious" case, and is for giving a +rousing emetic. Of course, he has to be wheedled out of this, a recipe +is written for beefsteaks and porter, the twins are ignominiously +expelled from the anaemic bosom, and forced to take prematurely to the +bottle, and this prolific mother is saved for future usefulness in the +line of maternity. + +The practice of making a profit on the medicine ordered has been held up +to reprobation by one at least of the orators who have preceded me. That +the effect of this has been ruinous in English practice I cannot doubt, +and that in this country the standard of practice was in former +generations lowered through the same agency is not unlikely. I have seen +an old account-book in which the physician charged an extra price for +gilding his rich patients' pills. If all medicine were very costly, and +the expense of it always came out of the physician's fee, it would really +be a less objectionable arrangement than this other most pernicious one. +He would naturally think twice before he gave an emetic or cathartic +which evacuated his own pocket, and be sparing of the cholagogues that +emptied the biliary ducts of his own wallet, unless he were sure they +were needed. If there is any temptation, it should not be in favor of +giving noxious agents, as it clearly must be in the case of English +druggists and "General Practitioners." The complaint against the other +course is a very old one. Pliny, inspired with as truly Roman horror of +quackery as the elder Cato,--who declared that the Greek doctors had +sworn to exterminate all barbarians, including the Romans, with their +drugs, but is said to have physicked his own wife to death, +notwithstanding,--Pliny says, in so many words, that the cerates and +cataplasms, plasters, collyria, and antidotes, so abundant in his time, +as in more recent days, were mere tricks to make money. + +A pretty strong eddy, then, or rather many eddies, setting constantly +back from the current of sober observation of nature, in the direction of +old superstitions and fancies, of exploded theories, of old ways of +making money, which are very slow to pass out of fashion. + +But there are other special American influences which we are bound to +take cognizance of. If I wished to show a student the difficulties of +getting at truth from medical experience, I would give him the history of +epilepsy to read. If I wished him to understand the tendencies of the +American medical mind, its sanguine enterprise, its self-confidence, its +audacious handling of Nature, its impatience with her old-fashioned ways +of taking time to get a sick man well, I would make him read the life and +writings of Benjamin Rush. Dr. Rush thought and said that there were +twenty times more intellect and a hundred times more knowledge in the +country in 1799 than before the Revolution. His own mind was in a +perpetual state of exaltation produced by the stirring scenes in which he +had taken a part, and the quickened life of the time in which he lived. +It was not the state to favor sound, calm observation. He was impatient, +and Nature is profoundly imperturbable. We may adjust the beating of our +hearts to her pendulum if we will and can, but we may be very sure that +she will not change the pendulum's rate of going because our hearts are +palpitating. He thought he had mastered yellow-fever. "Thank God," he +said, "out of one hundred patients whom I have visited or prescribed for +this day, I have lost none." Where was all his legacy of knowledge when +Norfolk was decimated? Where was it when the blue flies were buzzing +over the coffins of the unburied dead piled up in the cemetery of New +Orleans, at the edge of the huge trenches yawning to receive them? + +One such instance will do as well as twenty. Dr. Rush must have been a +charming teacher, as he was an admirable man. He was observing, rather +than a sound observer; eminently observing, curious, even, about all +manner of things. But he could not help feeling as if Nature had been a +good deal shaken by the Declaration of Independence, and that American +art was getting to be rather too much for her,--especially as illustrated +in his own practice. He taught thousands of American students, he gave a +direction to the medical mind of the country more than any other one man; +perhaps he typifies it better than any other. It has clearly tended to +extravagance in remedies and trust in remedies, as in everything else. +How could a people which has a revolution once in four years, which has +contrived the Bowie-knife and the revolver, which has chewed the juice +out of all the superlatives in the language in Fourth of July orations, +and so used up its epithets in the rhetoric of abuse that it takes two +great quarto dictionaries to supply the demand; which insists in sending +out yachts and horses and boys to out-sail, out-run, out-fight, and +checkmate all the rest of creation; how could such a people be content +with any but "heroic" practice? What wonder that the stars and stripes +wave over doses of ninety grains of sulphate of quinine, [More strictly, +ninety-six grains in two hours. Dunglison's Practice, 1842, vol. ii. p. +520. Eighty grains in one dose. Ibid. p. 536. Ninety-six grains of +sulphate of quinine are equal to eight ounces of good bark.--Wood & +Bache.] and that the American eagle screams with delight to see three +drachms of calomel given at a single mouthful? + +Add to this the great number of Medical Journals, all useful, we hope, +most of them necessary, we trust, many of them excellently well +conducted, but which must find something to fill their columns, and so +print all the new plans of treatment and new remedies they can get hold +of, as the newspapers, from a similar necessity, print the shocking +catastrophes and terrible murders. + +Besides all this, here are we, the great body of teachers in the +numberless medical schools of the Union, some of us lecturing to crowds +who clap and stamp in the cities, some of us wandering over the country, +like other professional fertilizers, to fecundate the minds of less +demonstrative audiences at various scientific stations; all of us talking +habitually to those supposed to know less than ourselves, and loving to +claim as much for our art as we can, not to say for our own schools, and +possibly indirectly for our own practical skill. Hence that annual crop +of introductory lectures; the useful blossoming into the ornamental, as +the cabbage becomes glorified in the cauliflower; that lecture-room +literature of adjectives, that declamatory exaggeration, that splendid +show of erudition borrowed from D'Israeli, and credited to Lord Bacon and +the rest, which have suggested to our friends of the Medical Journals an +occasional epigram at our expense. Hence the tendency in these +productions, and in medical lectures generally, to overstate the efficacy +of favorite methods of cure, and hence the premium offered for showy +talkers rather than sagacious observers, for the men of adjectives rather +than of nouns substantive in the more ambitious of these institutions. + +Such are some of the eddies in which we are liable to become involved and +carried back out of the broad stream of philosophical, or, in other +words, truth-loving, investigations. The causes of disease, in the mean +time, have been less earnestly studied in the eagerness of the search for +remedies. Speak softly! Women have been borne out from an old-world +hospital, two in one coffin, that the horrors of their prison-house might +not be known, while the very men who were discussing the treatment of the +disease were stupidly conveying the infection from bed to bed, as +rat-killers carry their poisons from one household to another. Do not +some of you remember that I have had to fight this private-pestilence +question against a scepticism which sneered in the face of a mass of +evidence such as the calm statisticians of the Insurance office could not +listen to without horror and indignation? ["The Contagiousness of +Puerperal Fever."--N. E. Quar. Jour. of Medicine and Surgery, April, +1843. Reprinted, with Additions. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1855.] Have +we forgotten what is told in one of the books published under our own +sanction, that a simple measure of ventilation, proposed by Dr. John +Clark, had saved more than sixteen thousand children's lives in a single +hospital? How long would it have taken small doses of calomel and +rhubarb to save as many children? These may be useful in prudent hands, +but how insignificant compared to the great hygienic conditions! Causes, +causes, and again causes,--more and more we fall back on these as the +chief objects of our attention. The shortest system of medical practice +that I know of is the oldest, but not the worst. It is older than +Hippocrates, older than Chiron the Centaur. Nature taught it to the first +mother when she saw her first-born child putting some ugly pebble or +lurid berry into its mouth. I know not in what language it was spoken, +but I know that in English it would sound thus: Spit it out! + +Art can do something more than say this. It can sometimes reach the +pebble or berry after it has been swallowed. But the great thing is to +keep these things out of children's mouths, and as soon as they are +beyond our reach, to be reasonable and patient with Nature, who means +well, but does not like to hurry, and who took nine calendar months, more +or less, to every mother's son among us, before she thought he was fit to +be shown to the public. + +Suffer me now to lay down a few propositions, whether old or new it +matters little, not for your immediate acceptance, nor yet for your hasty +rejection, but for your calm consideration. + +But first, there are a number of terms which we are in the habit of using +in a vague though not unintelligible way, and which it is as well now to +define. These terms are the tools with which we are to work, and the +first thing is to sharpen them. It is nothing to us that they have been +sharpened a thousand times before; they always get dull in the using, and +every new workman has a right to carry them to the grindstone and sharpen +them to suit himself. + +Nature, in medical language, as opposed to Art, means trust in the +reactions of the living system against, ordinary normal impressions. + +Art, in the same language, as opposed to Nature, means an intentional +resort to extraordinary abnormal impressions for the relief of disease. + +The reaction of the living system is the essence of both. Food is +nothing, if there is no digestive act to respond to it. We cannot raise +a blister on a dead man, or hope that a carminative forced between his +lips will produce its ordinary happy effect. + +Disease, dis-ease,--disturbed quiet, uncomfortableness,--means imperfect +or abnormal reaction of the living system, and its more or less permanent +results. + +Food, in its largest sense, is whatever helps to build up the normal +structures, or to maintain their natural actions. + +Medicine, in distinction from food, is every unnatural or noxious agent +applied for the relief of disease. + +Physic means properly the Natural art, and Physician is only the Greek +synonyme of Naturalist. + +With these few explanations I proceed to unfold the propositions I have +mentioned. + +Disease and death, if we may judge by the records of creation, are +inherently and essentially necessary in the present order of things. A +perfect intelligence, trained by a perfect education, could do no more +than keep the laws of the physical and spiritual universe. An imperfect +intelligence, imperfectly taught,--and this is the condition of our +finite humanity,--will certainly fail to keep all these laws perfectly. +Disease is one of the penalties of one of the forms of such failure. It +is prefigured in the perturbations of the planets, in the disintegration +of the elemental masses; it has left its traces in the fossil organisms +of extinct creations. [Professor Agassiz has kindly handed me the +following note: "There are abnormal structures in animals of all ages +anterior to the creation of mankind. Malformed specimens of Crinoids are +known from the Triassic and Jurassic deposits. Malformed and diseased +bones of tertiary mammalia have been collected in the caverns of +Gailenreuth with traces of healing."] + +But it is especially the prerogative, I had almost said privilege, of +educated and domesticated beings, from man down to the potato, serving to +teach them, and such as train them, the laws of life, and to get rid of +those who will not mind or cannot be kept subject to these laws. + +Disease, being always an effect, is always in exact proportion to the sum +of its causes, as much in the case of Spigelius, who dies of a scratch, +as in that of the man who recovers after an iron bar has been shot +through his brain. The one prevalent failing of the medical art is to +neglect the causes and quarrel with the effect. + +There are certain general facts which include a good deal of what is +called and treated as disease. Thus, there are two opposite movements of +life to be seen in cities and elsewhere, belonging to races which, from +various persistent causes, are breeding down and tending to run out, and +to races which are breeding up, or accumulating vital capital,--a +descending and an ascending series. Let me give an example of each; and +that I may incidentally remove a common impression about this country as +compared with the Old World, an impression which got tipsy with conceit +and staggered into the attitude of a formal proposition in the work of +Dr. Robert Knox, I will illustrate the downward movement from English +experience, and the upward movement from a family history belonging to +this immediate neighborhood. + +Miss Nightingale speaks of "the fact so often seen of a +great-grandmother, who was a tower of physical vigor, descending into a +grandmother perhaps a little less vigorous, but still sound as a bell, +and healthy to the core, into a mother languid and confined to her +carriage and house; and lastly into a daughter sickly and confined to her +bed." So much for the descending English series; now for the ascending +American series. + +Something more than one hundred and thirty years ago there graduated at +Harvard College a delicate youth, who lived an invalid life and died at +the age of about fifty. His two children were both of moderate physical +power, and one of them diminutive in stature. The next generation rose +in physical development, and reached eighty years of age and more in some +of its members. The fourth generation was of fair average endowment. +The fifth generation, great-great-grandchildren of the slender invalid, +are several of, them of extraordinary bodily and mental power; large in +stature, formidable alike with their brains and their arms, organized on +a more extensive scale than either of their parents. + +This brief account illustrates incidentally the fallacy of the +universal-degeneration theory applied to American life; the same on which +one of our countrymen has lately brought some very forcible facts to bear +in a muscular discussion of which we have heard rather more than is good +for us. But the two series, American and English, ascending and +descending, were adduced with the main purpose of showing the immense +difference of vital endowments in different strains of blood; a +difference to which all ordinary medication is in all probability a +matter of comparatively trivial purport. Many affections which art has +to strive against might be easily shown to be vital to the well-being of +society. Hydrocephalus, tabes mesenterica, and other similar maladies, +are natural agencies which cut off the children of races that are sinking +below the decent minimum which nature has established as the condition of +viability, before they reach the age of reproduction. They are really +not so much diseases, as manifestations of congenital incapacity for +life; the race would be ruined if art could ever learn always to preserve +the individuals subject to them. We must do the best we can for them, +but we ought also to know what these "diseases" mean. + +Again, invalidism is the normal state of many organizations. It can be +changed to disease, but never to absolute health by medicinal appliances. +There are many ladies, ancient and recent, who are perpetually taking +remedies for irremediable pains and aches. They ought to have headaches +and back-aches and stomach-aches; they are not well if they do not have +them. To expect them to live without frequent twinges is like expecting +a doctor's old chaise to go without creaking; if it did, we might be sure +the springs were broken. There is no doubt that the constant demand for +medicinal remedies from patients of this class leads to their over-use; +often in the case of cathartics, sometimes in that of opiates. I have +been told by an intelligent practitioner in a Western town, that the +constant prescription of opiates by certain physicians in his vicinity +has rendered the habitual use of that drug in all that region very +prevalent; more common, I should think, than alcoholic drunkenness in the +most intemperate localities of which I have known anything. A frightful +endemic demoralization betrays itself in the frequency with which the +haggard features and drooping shoulders of the opium-drunkards are met +with in the streets. + +The next proposition I would ask you to consider is this: The presumption +always is that every noxious agent, including medicines proper, which +hurts a well man, hurts a sick one. [ Note B.] + +Let me illustrate this proposition before you decide upon it. If it were +known that a prize-fighter were to have a drastic purgative administered +two or three days before a contest, or a large blister applied to his +back, no one will question that it would affect the betting on his side +unfavorably; we will say to the amount of five per cent. Now the drain +upon the resources of the system produced in such a case must be at its +minimum, for the subject is a powerful man, in the prime of life, and in +admirable condition. If the drug or the blister takes five per cent. +from his force of resistance, it will take at least as large a fraction +from any invalid. But this invalid has to fight a champion who strikes +hard but cannot be hit in return, who will press him sharply for breath, +but will never pant himself while the wind can whistle through his +fleshless ribs. The suffering combatant is liable to want all his +stamina, and five per cent. may lose him the battle. + +All noxious agents, all appliances which are not natural food or stimuli, +all medicines proper, cost a patient, on the average, five per cent. of +his vital force, let us say. Twenty times as much waste of force +produced by any of them, that is, would exactly kill him, nothing less +than kill him, and nothing more. If this, or something like this, is +true, then all these medications are, prima facie, injurious. + +In the game of Life-or-Death, Rouge et Noir, as played between the Doctor +and the Sexton, this five per cent., this certain small injury entering +into the chances is clearly the sexton's perquisite for keeping the green +table, over which the game is played, and where he hoards up his gains. +Suppose a blister to diminish a man's pain, effusion or dyspnoea to the +saving of twenty per cent. in vital force; his profit from it is fifteen, +in that case, for it always hurts him five to begin with, according to +our previous assumption. + +Presumptions are of vast importance in medicine, as in law. A man is +presumed innocent until he is proved guilty. A medicine--that is, a +noxious agent, like a blister, a seton, an emetic, or a cathartic +--should always be presumed to be hurtful. It always is directly +hurtful; it may sometimes be indirectly beneficial. If this presumption +were established, and disease always assumed to be the innocent victim of +circumstances, and not punishable by medicines, that is, noxious agents, +or poisons, until the contrary was shown, we should not so frequently +hear the remark commonly, perhaps erroneously, attributed to Sir Astley +Cooper, but often repeated by sensible persons, that, on the whole, more +harm than good is done by medication. Throw out opium, which the Creator +himself seems to prescribe, for we often see the scarlet poppy growing in +the cornfields, as if it were foreseen that wherever there is hunger to +be fed there must also be pain to be soothed; throw out a few specifics +which our art did not discover, and is hardly needed to apply [ Note C.]; +throw out wine, which is a food, and the vapors which produce the miracle +of anaesthesia, and I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica, as +now used, could be sunk to the bottom of the sea, it would be all the +better for mankind,--and all the worse for the fishes. + +But to justify this proposition, I must add that the injuries inflicted +by over-medication are to a great extent masked by disease. Dr. Hooker +believes that the typhus syncopatia of a preceding generation in New +England "was often in fact a brandy and opium disease." How is a +physician to distinguish the irritation produced by his blister from that +caused by the inflammation it was meant to cure? How can he tell the +exhaustion produced by his evacuants from the collapse belonging to the +disease they were meant to remove? + +Lastly, medication without insuring favorable hygienic conditions is like +amputation without ligatures. I had a chance to learn this well of old, +when physician to the Broad Street district of the Boston Dispensary. +There, there was no help for the utter want of wholesome conditions, and +if anybody got well under my care, it must have been in virtue of the +rough-and-tumble constitution which emerges from the struggle for life in +the street gutters, rather than by the aid of my prescriptions. + +But if the materia medica were lost overboard, how much more pains would +be taken in ordering all the circumstances surrounding the patient (as +can be done everywhere out of the crowded pauper districts), than are +taken now by too many who think they do their duty and earn their money +when they write a recipe for a patient left in an atmosphere of domestic +malaria, or to the most negligent kind of nursing! I confess that I +should think my chance of recovery from illness less with Hippocrates for +my physician and Mrs. Gamp for my nurse, than if I were in the hands of +Hahnemann himself, with Florence Nightingale or good Rebecca Taylor to +care for me. + +If I am right in maintaining that the presumption is always against the +use of noxious agents in disease, and if any whom I might influence +should adopt this as a principle of practice, they will often find +themselves embarrassed by the imperative demand of patients and their +friends for such agents where a case is not made out against this +standing presumption. I must be permitted to say, that I think the +French, a not wholly uncivilized people, are in advance of the English +and ourselves in the art of prescribing for the sick without hurting +them. And I do confess that I think their varied ptisans and syrups are +as much preferable to the mineral regimen of bug-poison and ratsbane, so +long in favor on the other side of the Channel, as their art of preparing +food for the table to the rude cookery of those hard-feeding and +much-dosing islanders. We want a reorganized cuisine of invalidism +perhaps as much as the culinary, reform, for which our lyceum lecturers, +and others who live much at hotels and taverns, are so urgent. Will you +think I am disrespectful if I ask whether, even in Massachusetts, a dose +of calomel is not sometimes given by a physician on the same principle as +that upon which a landlord occasionally prescribes bacon and +eggs,--because he cannot think of anything else quite so handy? I leave +my suggestion of borrowing a hint from French practice to your mature +consideration. + +I may, however, call your attention, briefly, to the singular fact, that +English and American practitioners are apt to accuse French medical +practice of inertness, and French surgical practice of unnecessary +activity. Thus, Dr. Bostock considers French medical treatment, with +certain exceptions, as "decidedly less effective" than that of his own +country. Mr. S. Cooper, again, defends the simple British practice of +procuring union by the first intention against the attacks of M. Roux and +Baron Larrey. [Cooper's Surg. Diet. art. "Wounds." Yet Mr. John Bell +gives the French surgeons credit for introducing this doctrine of +adhesion, and accuses O'Halloran of "rudeness and ignorance," and "bold, +uncivil language," in disputing their teaching. Princ. of Surgery, vol. +i. p. 42. Mr. Hunter succeeded at last in naturalizing the doctrine and +practice, but even he had to struggle against the perpetual jealousy of +rivals, and died at length assassinated by an insult.] We have often +heard similar opinions maintained by our own countrymen. While +Anglo-American criticism blows hot or cold on the two departments of +French practice, it is not, I hope, indecent to question whether all the +wisdom is necessarily with us in both cases. + +Our art has had two or three lessons which have a deep meaning to those +who are willing to read them honestly. The use of water-dressings in +surgery completed the series of reforms by which was abolished the +"coarse and cruel practice" of the older surgeons, who with their +dressings and acrid balsams, their tents and leaden tubes, "absolutely +delayed the cure." The doctrine of Broussais, transient as was its +empire, reversed the practice of half of Christendom for a season, and +taught its hasty disciples to shun their old favorite remedies as mortal +poisons. This was not enough permanently to shift the presumption about +drugs where it belonged, and so at last, just as the sympathetic powder +and the Unguentum Armarium came in a superstitious age to kill out the +abuses of external over-medication, the solemn farce of Homoeopathy was +enacted in the face of our own too credulous civilization, that under +shelter of its pretences the "inward bruises" of over-drugged viscera +might be allowed to heal by the first intention. Its lesson we must +accept, whether we will or not; its follies we are tired of talking +about. The security of the medical profession against this and all +similar fancies is in the average constitution of the human mind with +regard to the laws of evidence. + +My friends and brothers in Art! There is nothing to be feared from the +utterance of any seeming heresy to which you may have listened. I cannot +compromise your collective wisdom. If I have strained the truth one +hair's breadth for the sake of an epigram or an antithesis, you are +accustomed to count the normal pulse-beats of sound judgment, and know +full well how to recognize the fever-throbs of conceit and the nervous +palpitations of rhetoric. + +The freedom with which each of us speaks his thought in this presence, +belongs in part to the assured position of the Profession in our +Commonwealth, to the attitude of Science, which is always fearless, and +to the genius of the soil on which we stand, from which Nature withheld +the fatal gift of malaria only to fill it with exhalations that breed the +fever of inquiry in our blood and in our brain. But mainly we owe the +large license of speech we enjoy to those influences and privileges +common to us all as self-governing Americans. + +This Republic is the chosen home of minorities, of the less power in the +presence of the greater. It is a common error to speak of our +distinction as consisting in the rule of the majority. Majorities, the +greater material powers, have always ruled before. The history of most +countries has been that of majorities, mounted majorities, clad in iron, +armed with death treading down the tenfold more numerous minorities. In +the old civilizations they root themselves like oaks in the soil; men +must live in their shadow or cut them down. With us the majority is only +the flower of the passing noon, and the minority is the bud which may +open in the next morning's sun. We must be tolerant, for the thought +which stammers on a single tongue today may organize itself in the +growing consciousness of the time, and come back to us like the voice of +the multitudinous waves of the ocean on the morrow. + +Twenty-five years have passed since one of your honored Presidents spoke +to this Society of certain limitations to the power of our Art, now very +generally conceded. Some were troubled, some were almost angry, thinking +the Profession might suffer from such concessions. It has certainly not +suffered here; if, as some affirm, it has lost respect anywhere, it was +probably for other, and no doubt sufficient reasons. + +Since that time the civilization of this planet has changed hands. Strike +out of existence at this moment every person who was breathing on that +day, May 27, 1835, and every institution of society, every art and every +science would remain intact and complete in the living that would be +left. Every idea the world then held has been since dissolved and +recrystallized. + +We are repeating the same process. Not to make silver shrines for our +old divinities, even though by this craft we should have our wealth, was +this Society organized and carried on by the good men and true who went +before us. Not for this, but to melt the gold out of the past, though +its dross should fly in dust to all the winds of heaven, to save all our +old treasures of knowledge and mine deeply for new, to cultivate that +mutual respect of which outward courtesy is the sign, to work together, +to feel together, to take counsel together, and to stand together for the +truth, now, always, here, everywhere; for this our fathers instituted, +and we accept, the offices and duties of this time-honored Society. + + + + +BORDER LINES OF KNOWLEDGE IN SOME PROVINCES OF MEDICAL SCIENCE. + +An Introductory Lecture delivered before the Medical Class of Harvard +University, November 6, 1861. + +[This Lecture appears as it would have been delivered had the time +allowed been less strictly, limited. Passages necessarily omitted have +been restored, and points briefly touched have been more fully +considered. A few notes have been added for the benefit of that limited +class of students who care to track an author through the highways and +by-ways of his reading. I owe my thanks to several of my professional +brethren who have communicated with me on subjects with which they are +familiar; especially to Dr. John Dean, for the opportunity of profiting +by his unpublished labors, and to Dr. Hasket Derby, for information and +references to recent authorities relating to the anatomy and physiology +of the eye.] + +The entrance upon a new course of Lectures is always a period of interest +to instructors and pupils. As the birth of a child to a parent, so is +the advent of a new class to a teacher. As the light of the untried +world to the infant, so is the dawning of the light resting over the +unexplored realms of science to the student. In the name of the Faculty +I welcome you, Gentlemen of the Medical Class, new-born babes of science, +or lustier nurslings, to this morning of your medical life, and to the +arms and the bosom of this ancient University. Fourteen years ago I +stood in this place for the first time to address those who occupied +these benches. As I recall these past seasons of our joint labors, I +feel that they have been on the whole prosperous, and not undeserving of +their prosperity. + +For it has been my privilege to be associated with a body of true and +faithful workers; I cannot praise them freely to their faces, or I should +be proud to discourse of the harmonious diligence and the noble spirit in +which they have toiled together, not merely to teach their several +branches, but to elevate the whole standard of teaching. + +I may speak with less restraint of those gentlemen who have aided me in +the most laborious part of my daily duties, the Demonstrators, to whom +the successive classes have owed so much of their instruction. They rise +before me, the dead and the living, in the midst of the most grateful +recollections. The fair, manly face and stately figure of my friend, Dr. +Samuel Parkman, himself fit for the highest offices of teaching, yet +willing to be my faithful assistant in the time of need, come back to me +with the long sigh of regret for his early loss to our earthly +companionship. Every year I speak the eulogy of Dr. Ainsworth's patient +toil as I show his elaborate preparations: When I take down my "American +Cyclopaedia" and borrow instruction from the learned articles of Dr. +Kneeland, I cease to regret that his indefatigable and intelligent +industry was turned into a broader channel. And what can I say too +cordial of my long associated companion and friend, Dr. Hodges, whose +admirable skill, working through the swiftest and surest fingers that +ever held a scalpel among us, has delighted class after class, and filled +our Museum with monuments which will convey his name to unborn +generations? + +This day belongs, however, not to myself and my recollections, but to all +of us who teach and all of you who listen, whether experts in our +specialties or aliens to their mysteries, or timid neophytes just +entering the portals of the hall of science. Look in with me, then, +while I attempt to throw some rays into its interior, which shall +illuminate a few of its pillars and cornices, and show at the same time +how many niches and alcoves remain in darkness. + +SCIENCE is the topography of ignorance. From a few elevated points we +triangulate vast spaces, inclosing infinite unknown details. We cast the +lead, and draw up a little sand from abysses we may never reach with our +dredges. + +The best part of our knowledge is that which teaches us where knowledge +leaves off and ignorance begins. Nothing more clearly separates a vulgar +from a superior mind, than the confusion in the first between the little +that it truly knows, on the one hand, and what it half knows and what it +thinks it knows on the other. + +That which is true of every subject is especially true of the branch of +knowledge which deals with living beings. Their existence is a perpetual +death and reanimation. Their identity is only an idea, for we put off +our bodies many times during our lives, and dress in new suits of bones +and muscles. + + "Thou art not thyself; + For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains + That issue out of dust." + +If it is true that we understand ourselves but imperfectly in health, +this truth is more signally manifested in disease, where natural actions +imperfectly understood, disturbed in an obscure way by half-seen causes, +are creeping and winding along in the dark toward their destined issue, +sometimes using our remedies as safe stepping-stones, occasionally, it +may be, stumbling over them as obstacles. + +I propose in this lecture to show you some points of contact between our +ignorance and our knowledge in several of the branches upon the study of +which you are entering. I may teach you a very little directly, but I +hope much more from the trains of thought I shall suggest. Do not expect +too much ground to be covered in this rapid survey. Our task is only +that of sending out a few pickets under the starry flag of science to the +edge of that dark domain where the ensigns of the obstinate rebel, +Ignorance, are flying undisputed. We are not making a reconnoissance in +force, still less advancing with the main column. But here are a few +roads along which we have to march together, and we wish to see clearly +how far our lines extend, and where the enemy's outposts begin. + +Before touching the branches of knowledge that deal with organization and +vital functions, let us glance at that science which meets you at the +threshold of your study, and prepares you in some measure to deal with +the more complex problems of the living laboratory. + +CHEMISTRY. includes the art of separating and combining the elements of +matter, and the study of the changes produced by these operations. We can +hardly say too much of what it has contributed to our knowledge of the +universe and our power of dealing with its materials. It has given us a +catalogue raisonne of the substances found upon our planet, and shown how +everything living and dead is put together from them. It is +accomplishing wonders before us every day, such as Arabian story-tellers +used to string together in their fables. It spreads the, sensitive film +on the artificial retina which looks upon us through the optician's lens +for a few seconds, and fixes an image that will outlive its original. It +questions the light of the sun, and detects the vaporized metals floating +around the great luminary,--iron, sodium, lithium, and the rest,--as if +the chemist of our remote planet could fill his bell-glasses from its +fiery atmosphere. It lends the power which flashes our messages in +thrills that leave the lazy chariot of day behind them. It seals up a +few dark grains in iron vases, and lo! at the touch of a single spark, +rises in smoke and flame a mighty Afrit with a voice like thunder and an +arm that shatters like an earthquake. The dreams of Oriental fancy have +become the sober facts of our every-day life, and the chemist is the +magician to whom we owe them. + +To return to the colder scientific aspect of chemistry. It has shown us +how bodies stand affected to each other through an almost boundless range +of combinations. It has given us a most ingenious theory to account for +certain fixed relations in these combinations. It has successfully +eliminated a great number of proximate compounds, more or less stable, +from organic structures. It has invented others which form the basis of +long series of well-known composite substances. In fact, we are perhaps +becoming overburdened with our list of proximate principles, demonstrated +and hypothetical. + +How much nearer have we come to the secret of force than Lully and Geber +and the whole crew of juggling alchemists? We have learned a great deal +about the how, what have we learned about the why? + +Why does iron rust, while gold remains untarnished, and gold amalgamate, +while iron refuses the alliance of mercury? + +The alchemists called gold Sol, the sun, and iron Mars, and pleased +themselves with fancied relations between these substances and the +heavenly bodies, by which they pretended to explain the facts they +observed. Some of their superstitions have lingered in practical +medicine to the present day, but chemistry has grown wise enough to +confess the fact of absolute ignorance. + +What is it that makes common salt crystallize in the form of cubes, and +saltpetre in the shape of six-sided prisms? We see no reason why it +should not have been just the other way, salt in prisms and saltpetre in +cubes, or why either should take an exact geometrical outline, any more +than coagulating albumen. + +But although we had given up attempting to explain the essential nature +of affinities and of crystalline types, we might have supposed that we +had at least fixed the identity of the substances with which we deal, and +determined the laws of their combination. All at once we find that a +simple substance changes face, puts off its characteristic qualities and +resumes them at will;--not merely when we liquefy or vaporize a solid, or +reverse the process; but that a solid is literally transformed into +another solid under our own eyes. We thought we knew phosphorus. We warm +a portion of it sealed in an empty tube, for about a week. It has become +a brown infusible substance, which does not shine in the dark nor oxidate +in the air. We heat it to 500 F., and it becomes common phosphorus again. +We transmute sulphur in the same singular way. Nature, you know, gives +us carbon in the shape of coal and in that of the diamond. It is easy to +call these changes by the name allotropism, but not the less do they +confound our hasty generalizations. + +These facts of allotropism have some corollaries connected with them +rather startling to us of the nineteenth century. There may be other +transmutations possible besides those of phosphorus and sulphur. When Dr. +Prout, in 1840, talked about azote and carbon being "formed" in the +living system, it was looked upon as one of those freaks of fancy to +which philosophers, like other men, are subject. But when Professor +Faraday, in 1851, says, at a meeting of the British Association, that +"his hopes are in the direction of proving that bodies called simple were +really compounds, and may be formed artificially as soon as we are +masters of the laws influencing their combinations,"--when he comes +forward and says that he has tried experiments at transmutation, and +means, if his life is spared, to try them again,--how can we be surprised +at the popular story of 1861, that Louis Napoleon has established a +gold-factory and is glutting the mints of Europe with bullion of his own +making? + +And so with reference to the law of combinations. The old maxim was, +Corpora non agunt nisi soluta. If two substances, a and b, are inclosed +in a glass vessel, c, we do not expect the glass to change them, unless a +or b or the compound a b has the power of dissolving the glass. But if +for a I take oxygen, for b hydrogen, and for c a piece of spongy +platinum, I find the first two combine with the common signs of +combustion and form water, the third in the mean time undergoing no +perceptible change. It has played the part of the unwedded priest, who +marries a pair without taking a fee or having any further relation with +the parties. We call this catalysis, catalytic action, the action of +presence, or by what learned name we choose. Give what name to it we +will, it is a manifestation of power which crosses our established laws +of combination at a very open angle of intersection. I think we may find +an analogy for it in electrical induction, the disturbance of the +equilibrium of the electricity of a body by the approach of a charged +body to it, without interchange of electrical conditions between the two +bodies. But an analogy is not an explanation, and why a few drops of +yeast should change a saccharine mixture to carbonic acid and alcohol,--a +little leaven leavening the whole lump,--not by combining with it, but by +setting a movement at work, we not only cannot explain, but the fact is +such an exception to the recognized laws of combination that Liebig is +unwilling to admit the new force at all to which Berzelius had given the +name so generally accepted. + +The phenomena of isomerism, or identity of composition and proportions of +constituents with difference of qualities, and of isomorphism, or +identity of form in crystals which have one element substituted for +another, were equally surprises to science; and although the mechanism by +which they are brought about can be to a certain extent explained by a +reference to the hypothetical atoms of which the elements are +constituted, yet this is only turning the difficulty into a fraction with +an infinitesimal denominator and an infinite numerator. + +So far we have studied the working of force and its seeming anomalies in +purely chemical phenomena. But we soon find that chemical force is +developed by various other physical agencies,--by heat, by light, by +electricity, by magnetism, by mechanical agencies; and, vice versa, that +chemical action develops heat, light, electricity, magnetism, mechanical +force, as we see in our matches, galvanic batteries, and explosive +compounds. Proceeding with our experiments, we find that every kind of +force is capable of producing all other kinds, or, in Mr. Faraday's +language, that "the various forms under which the forces of matter are +made manifest have a common origin, or, in other words, are so directly +related and mutually dependent that they are convertible one into +another." + +Out of this doctrine naturally springs that of the conservation of force, +so ably illustrated by Mr. Grove, Dr. Carpenter, and Mr. Faraday. This +idea is no novelty, though it seems so at first sight. It was maintained +and disputed among the giants of philosophy. Des Cartes and Leibnitz +denied that any new motion originated in nature, or that any ever ceased +to exist; all motion being in a circle, passing from one body to another, +one losing what the other gained. Newton, on the other hand, believed +that new motions were generated and existing ones destroyed. On the +first supposition, there is a fixed amount of force always circulating in +the universe. On the second, the total amount may be increasing or +diminishing. You will find in the "Annual of Scientific Discovery" for +1858 a very interesting lecture by Professor Helmholtz of Bonn, in which +it is maintained that a certain portion of force is lost in every natural +process, being converted into unchangeable heat, so that the universe +will come to a stand-still at last, all force passing into heat, and all +heat into a state of equilibrium. + +The doctrines of the convertibility or specific equivalence of the +various forms of force, and of its conservation, which is its logical +consequence, are very generally accepted, as I believe, at the present +time, among physicists. We are naturally led to the question, What is +the nature of force? The three illustrious philosophers just referred to +agree in attributing the general movements of the universe to the +immediate Divine action. The doctrine of "preestablished harmony" was an +especial contrivance of Leibnitz to remove the Creator from unworthy +association with the less divine acts of living beings. Obsolete as this +expression sounds to our ears, the phrase laws of the universe, which we +use so constantly with a wider application, appears to me essentially +identical with it. + +Force does not admit of explanation, nor of proper definition, any more +than the hypothetical substratum of matter. If we assume the Infinite as +omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent, we cannot suppose Him excluded from +any part of His creation, except from rebellious souls which voluntarily +exclude Him by the exercise of their fatal prerogative of free-will. +Force, then, is the act of immanent Divinity. I find no meaning in +mechanical explanations. Newton's hypothesis of an ether filling the +heavenly spaces does not, I confess, help my conceptions. I will, and +the muscles of my vocal organs shape my speech. God wills, and the +universe articulates His power, wisdom, and goodness. That is all I +know. There is no bridge my mind can throw from the "immaterial" cause +to the "material" effect. + +The problem of force meets us everywhere, and I prefer to encounter it in +the world of physical phenomena before reaching that of living actions. +It is only the name for the incomprehensible cause of certain changes +known to our consciousness, and assumed to be outside of it. For me it +is the Deity Himself in action. + +I can therefore see a large significance in the somewhat bold language of +Burdach: "There is for me but one miracle, that of infinite existence, +and but one mystery, the manner in which the finite proceeds from the +infinite. So soon as we recognize this incomprehensible act as the +general and primordial miracle, of which our reason perceives the +necessity, but the manner of which our intelligence cannot grasp, so soon +as we contemplate the nature known to us by experience in this light, +there is for us no other impenetrable miracle or mystery." + +Let us turn to a branch of knowledge which deals with certainties up to +the limit of the senses, and is involved in no speculations beyond them. +In certain points of view, HUMAN ANATOMY may be considered an almost +exhausted science. From time to time some small organ which had escaped +earlier observers has been pointed out,--such parts as the tensor tarsi, +the otic ganglion, or the Pacinian bodies; but some of our best +anatomical works are those which have been classic for many generations. +The plates of the bones in Vesalius, three centuries old, are still +masterpieces of accuracy, as of art. The magnificent work of Albinus on +the muscles, published in 1747, is still supreme in its department, as +the constant references of the most thorough recent treatise on the +subject, that of Theile, sufficiently show. More has been done in +unravelling the mysteries of the fasciae, but there has been a tendency +to overdo this kind of material analysis. Alexander Thomson split them +up into cobwebs, as you may see in the plates to Velpeau's Surgical +Anatomy. I well remember how he used to shake his head over the coarse +work of Scarpa and Astley Cooper,--as if Denner, who painted the separate +hairs of the beard and pores of the skin in his portraits, had spoken +lightly of the pictures of Rubens and Vandyk. + +Not only has little been added to the catalogue of parts, but some things +long known had become half-forgotten. Louis and others confounded the +solitary glands of the lower part of the small intestine with those which +"the great Brunner," as Haller calls him, described in 1687 as being +found in the duodenum. The display of the fibrous structure of the brain +seemed a novelty as shown by Spurzheim. One is startled to find the +method anticipated by Raymond Vieussens nearly two centuries ago. I can +hardly think Gordon had ever looked at his figures, though he names their +author, when he wrote the captious and sneering article which attracted +so much attention in the pages of the "Edinburgh Review." + +This is the place, if anywhere, to mention any observations I could +pretend to have made in the course of my teaching the structure of the +human body. I can make no better show than most of my predecessors in +this well-reaped field. The nucleated cells found connected with the +cancellated structure of the bones, which I first pointed out and had +figured in 1847, and have shown yearly from that time to the present, and +the fossa masseterica, a shallow concavity on the ramus of the lower jaw, +for the lodgment of the masseter muscle, which acquires significance when +examined by the side of the deep cavity on the corresponding part in some +carnivora to which it answers, may perhaps be claimed as deserving +attention. I have also pleased myself by making a special group of the +six radiating muscles which diverge from the spine of the axis, or second +cervical vertebra, and by giving to it the name stella musculosa nuchaee. +But this scanty catalogue is only an evidence that one may teach long and +see little that has not been noted by those who have gone before him. Of +course I do not think it necessary to include rare, but already described +anomalies, such as the episternal bones, the rectus sternalis, and other +interesting exceptional formations I have encountered, which have shown a +curious tendency to present themselves several times in the same season, +perhaps because the first specimen found calls our attention to any we +may subsequently meet with. + +The anatomy of the scalpel and the amphitheatre was, then, becoming an +exhausted branch of investigation. But during the present century the +study of the human body has changed its old aspect, and become fertile in +new observations. This rejuvenescence was effected by means of two +principal agencies,--new methods and a new instrument. + +Descriptive anatomy, as known from an early date, is to the body what +geography is to the planet. Now geography was pretty well known so long +ago as when Arrowsmith, who was born in 1750, published his admirable +maps. But in that same year was born Werner, who taught a new way of +studying the earth, since become familiar to us all under the name of +Geology. + +What geology has done for our knowledge of the earth, has been done for +our knowledge of the body by that method of study to which is given the +name of General Anatomy. It studies, not the organs as such, but the +elements out of which the organs are constructed. It is the geology of +the body, as that is the general anatomy of the earth. The extraordinary +genius of Bichat, to whom more than any other we owe this new method of +study, does not require Mr. Buckle's testimony to impress the +practitioner with the importance of its achievements. I have heard a +very wise physician question whether any important result had accrued to +practical medicine from Harvey's discovery of the circulation. But +Anatomy, Physiology, and Pathology have received a new light from this +novel method of contemplating the living structures, which has had a vast +influence in enabling the practitioner at least to distinguish and +predict the course of disease. We know as well what differences to +expect in the habits of a mucous and of a serous membrane, as what +mineral substances to look for in the chalk or the coal measures. You +have only to read Cullen's description of inflammation of the lungs or of +the bowels, and compare it with such as you may find in Laennec or +Watson, to see the immense gain which diagnosis and prognosis have +derived from general anatomy. + +The second new method of studying the human structure, beginning with the +labors of Scarpa, Burns, and Colles, grew up principally during the first +third of this century. It does not deal with organs, as did the earlier +anatomists, nor with tissues, after the manner of Bichat. It maps the +whole surface of the body into an arbitrary number of regions, and +studies each region successively from the surface to the bone, or beneath +it. This hardly deserves the name of a science, although Velpeau has +dignified it with that title, but it furnishes an admirable practical way +for the surgeon who has to operate on a particular region of the body to +study that region. If we are buying a farm, we are not content with the +State map or a geological chart including the estate in question. We +demand an exact survey of that particular property, so that we may know +what we are dealing with. This is just what regional, or, as it is +sometimes called, surgical anatomy, does for the surgeon with reference +to the part on which his skill is to be exercised. It enables him to see +with the mind's eye through the opaque tissues down to the bone on which +they lie, as if the skin were transparent as the cornea, and the organs +it covers translucent as the gelatinous pulp of a medusa. + +It is curious that the Japanese should have anticipated Europe in a kind +of rude regional anatomy. I have seen a manikin of Japanese make traced +all over with lines, and points marking their intersection. By this +their doctors are guided in the performance of acupuncture, marking the +safe places to thrust in needles, as we buoy out our ship-channels, and +doubtless indicating to learned eyes the spots where incautious meddling +had led to those little accidents of shipwreck to which patients are +unfortunately liable. + +A change of method, then, has given us General and Regional Anatomy. +These, too, have been worked so thoroughly, that, if not exhausted, they +have at least become to a great extent fixed and positive branches of +knowledge. But the first of them, General Anatomy, would never, have +reached this positive condition but for the introduction of that, +instrument which I have mentioned as the second great aid to modern +progress. + +This instrument is the achromatic microscope. For the history of the +successive steps by which it became the effective scientific implement we +now possess, I must refer you to the work of Mr. Quekett, to an excellent +article in the "Penny Cyclopaedia," or to that of Sir David Brewster in +the "Encyclopaedia Britannica." It is a most interesting piece of +scientific history, which shows how the problem which Biot in 1821 +pronounced insolvable was in the course of a few years practically +solved, with a success equal to that which Dollond had long before +obtained with the telescope. It is enough for our purpose that we are +now in possession of an instrument freed from all confusions and +illusions, which magnifies a thousand diameters,--a million times in +surface,--without serious distortion or discoloration of its object. + +A quarter of a century ago, or a little more, an instructor would not +have hesitated to put John Bell's "Anatomy" and Bostock's "Physiology" +into a student's hands, as good authority on their respective subjects. +Let us not be unjust to either of these authors. John Bell is the +liveliest medical writer that I can remember who has written since the +days of delightful old Ambroise Pare. His picturesque descriptions and +bold figures are as good now as they ever were, and his book can never +become obsolete. But listen to what John Bell says of the microscope: + +"Philosophers of the last age had been at infinite pains to find the +ultimate fibre of muscles, thinking to discover its properties in its +form; but they saw just in proportion to the glasses which they used, or +to their practice and skill in that art, which is now almost forsaken." + +Dr. Bostock's work, neglected as it is, is one which I value very highly +as a really learned compilation, full of original references. But Dr. +Bostock says: "Much as the naturalist has been indebted to the +microscope, by bringing into view many beings of which he could not +otherwise have ascertained the existence, the physiologist has not yet +derived any great benefit from the instrument." + +These are only specimens of the manner in which the microscope and its +results were generally regarded by the generation just preceding our own. + +I have referred you to the proper authorities for the account of those +improvements which about the year 1830 rendered the compound microscope +an efficient and trustworthy instrument. It was now for the first time +that a true general anatomy became possible. As early as 1816 Treviranus +had attempted to resolve the tissues, of which Bichat had admitted no +less than twenty-one, into their simple microscopic elements. How could +such an attempt succeed, Henle well asks, at a time when the most +extensively diffused of all the tissues, the areolar, was not at all +understood? All that method could do had been accomplished by Bichat and +his followers. It was for the optician to take the next step. The +future of anatomy and physiology, as an enthusiastic micrologist of the +time said, was in the hands of Messrs. Schieck and Pistor, famous +opticians of Berlin. + +In those earlier days of which I am speaking, all the points of minute +anatomy were involved in obscurity. Some found globules everywhere, some +fibres. Students disputed whether the conjunctiva extended over the +cornea or not, and worried themselves over Gaultier de Claubry's +stratified layers of the skin, or Breschet's blennogenous and +chromatogenous organs. The dartos was a puzzle, the central spinal canal +a myth, the decidua clothed in fable as much as the golden fleece. The +structure of bone, now so beautifully made out,--even that of the teeth, +in which old Leeuwenhoek, peeping with his octogenarian eyes through the +minute lenses wrought with his own hands, had long ago seen the "pipes," +as he called them,--was hardly known at all. The minute structure of the +viscera lay in the mists of an uncertain microscopic vision. The +intimate recesses of the animal system were to the students of anatomy +what the anterior of Africa long was to geographers, and the stories of +microscopic explorers were as much sneered at as those of Bruce or Du +Chailly, and with better reason. + +Now what have we come to in our own day? In the first place, the minute +structure of all the organs has been made out in the most satisfactory +way. The special arrangements of the vessels and the ducts of all the +glands, of the air-tubes and vesicles of the lungs, of the parts which +make up the skin and other membranes, all the details of those complex +parenchymatous organs which had confounded investigation so long, have +been lifted out of the invisible into the sight of all observers. It is +fair to mention here, that we owe a great deal to the art of minute +injection, by which we are enabled to trace the smallest vessels in the +midst of the tissues where they are distributed. This is an old artifice +of anatomists. The famous Ruysch, who died a hundred and thirty years +ago, showed that each of the viscera has its terminal vessels arranged in +its own peculiar way; the same fact which you may see illustrated in +Gerber's figures after the minute injections of Berres. I hope to show +you many specimens of this kind in the microscope, the work of English +and American hands. Professor Agassiz allows me also to make use of a +very rich collection of injected preparations sent him by Professor +Hyrtl, formerly of Prague, now of Vienna, for the proper exhibition of +which I had a number of microscopes made expressly, by Mr. Grunow, during +the past season. All this illustrates what has been done for the +elucidation of the intimate details of formation of the organs. + +But the great triumph of the microscope as applied to anatomy has been in +the resolution of the organs and the tissues into their simple +constituent anatomical elements. It has taken up general anatomy where +Bichat left it. He had succeeded in reducing the structural language of +nature to syllables, if you will permit me to use so bold an image. The +microscopic observers who have come after him have analyzed these into +letters, as we may call them,--the simple elements by the combination of +which Nature spells out successively tissues, which are her syllables, +organs which are her words, systems which are her chapters, and so goes +on from the simple to the complex, until she binds up in one living whole +that wondrous volume of power and wisdom which we call the human body. + +The alphabet of the organization is so short and simple, that I will risk +fatiguing your attention by repeating it, according to the plan I have +long adopted. + +A. Cells, either floating, as in the blood, or fixed, like those in the +cancellated structure of bone, already referred to. Very commonly they +have undergone a change of figure, most frequently a flattening which +reduces them to scales, as in the epidermis and the epithelium. + +B. Simple, translucent, homogeneous solid, such as is found at the back +of the cornea, or forming the intercellular substance of cartilage. + +C. The white fibrous element, consisting of very delicate, tenacious +threads. This is the long staple textile substance of the body. It is +to the organism what cotton is pretended to be to our Southern States. +It pervades the whole animal fabric as areolar tissue, which is the +universal packing and wrapping material. It forms the ligaments which +bind the whole frame-work together. It furnishes the sinews, which are +the channels of power. It enfolds every muscle. It wraps the brain in +its hard, insensible folds, and the heart itself beats in a purse that is +made of it. + +D. The yellow elastic, fibrous element, the caoutchouc of the animal +mechanism, which pulls things back into place, as the India-rubber band +shuts the door we have opened. + +E. The striped muscular fibre,--the red flesh, which shortens itself in +obedience to the will, and thus produces all voluntary active motion. + +F. The unstriped muscular fibre, more properly the fusiform-cell fibre, +which carries on the involuntary internal movements. + +G. The nerve-cylinder, a glassy tube, with a pith of some firmness, +which conveys sensation to the brain and the principle which induces +motion from it. + +H. The nerve-corpuscle, the centre of nervous power. + +I. The mucous tissue, as Virchow calls it, common in embryonic +structures, seen in the vitreous humor of the adult. + +To these add X, granules, of indeterminate shape and size, Y, for +inorganic matters, such as the salts of bone and teeth, and Z, to stand +as a symbol of the fluids, and you have the letters of what I have +ventured to call the alphabet of the body. + +But just as in language certain diphthongs and syllables are frequently +recurring, so we have in the body certain secondary and tertiary +combinations, which we meet more frequently than the solitary elements of +which they are composed. + +Thus A B, or a collection of cells united by simple structureless solid, +is seen to be extensively employed in the body under the name of +cartilage. Out of this the surfaces of the articulations and the springs +of the breathing apparatus are formed. But when Nature came to the +buffers of the spinal column (intervertebral disks) and the washers of +the joints (semilunar fibrocartilages of the knee, etc.), she required +more tenacity than common cartilage possessed. What did she do? What +does man do in a similar case of need? I need hardly tell you. The +mason lays his bricks in simple mortar. But the plasterer works some +hair into the mortar which he is going to lay in large sheets on the +walls. The children of Israel complained that they had no straw to make +their bricks with, though portions of it may still be seen in the +crumbling pyramid of Darshour, which they are said to have built. I +visited the old house on Witch Hill in Salem a year or two ago, and there +I found the walls coated with clay in which straw was abundantly +mingled;--the old Judaizing witch-hangers copied the Israelites in a good +many things. The Chinese and the Corsicans blend the fibres of amianthus +in their pottery to give it tenacity. Now to return to Nature. To make +her buffers and washers hold together in the shocks to which they would +be subjected, she took common cartilage and mingled the white fibrous +tissue with it, to serve the same purpose as the hair in the mortar, the +straw in the bricks and in the plaster of the old wall, and the amianthus +in the earthen vessels. Thus we have the combination A B C, or +fibro-cartilage. Again, the bones were once only gristle or cartilage, A +B. To give them solidity they were infiltrated with stone, in the form +of salts of lime, an inorganic element, so that bone would be spelt out +by the letters A, B, and Y. + +If from these organic syllables we proceed to form organic words, we +shall find that Nature employs three principal forms; namely, Vessels, +Membranes, and Parenchyma, or visceral tissue. The most complex of them +can be resolved into a combination of these few simple anatomical +constituents. + +Passing for a moment into the domain of PATHOLOGICAL ANATOMY, we find the +same elements in morbid growths that we have met with in normal +structures. The pus-corpuscle and the white blood-corpuscle can only be +distinguished by tracing them to their origin. A frequent form of +so-called malignant disease proves to be only a collection of altered +epithelium-cells. Even cancer itself has no specific anatomical element, +and the diagnosis of a cancerous tumor by the microscope, though +tolerably sure under the eye of an expert, is based upon accidental, and +not essential points,--the crowding together of the elements, the size of +the cell-nuclei, and similar variable characters. + +Let us turn to PHYSIOLOGY. The microscope, which has made a new science +of the intimate structure of the organs, has at the same time cleared up +many uncertainties concerning the mechanism of the special functions. Up +to the time of the living generation of observers, Nature had kept over +all her inner workshops the forbidding inscription, No Admittance! If +any prying observer ventured to spy through his magnifying tubes into the +mysteries of her glands and canals and fluids, she covered up her work in +blinding mists and bewildering halos, as the deities of old concealed +their favored heroes in the moment of danger. + +Science has at length sifted the turbid light of her lenses, and blanched +their delusive rainbows. + +Anatomy studies the organism in space. Physiology studies it also in +time. After the study of form and composition follows close that of +action, and this leads us along back to the first moment of the germ, and +forward to the resolution of the living frame into its lifeless elements. +In this way Anatomy, or rather that branch of it which we call Histology, +has become inseparably blended with the study of function. The +connection between the science of life and that of intimate structure on +the one hand, and composition on the other, is illustrated in the titles +of two recent works of remarkable excellence,--"the Physiological +Anatomy" of Todd and Bowman, and the "Physiological Chemistry" of +Lehmann. + +Let me briefly recapitulate a few of our acquisitions in Physiology, due +in large measure to our new instruments and methods of research, and at +the same time indicate the limits which form the permanent or the +temporary boundaries of our knowledge. I will begin with the largest +fact and with the most absolute and universally encountered limitation. + +The "largest truth in Physiology" Mr. Paget considers to be "the +development of ova through multiplication and division of their cells." +I would state it more broadly as the agency of the cell in all living +processes. It seems at present necessary to abandon the original idea of +Schwann, that we can observe the building up of a cell from the simple +granules of a blastema, or formative fluid. The evidence points rather +towards the axiom, Omnis cellula a cellula; that is, the germ of a new +cell is always derived from a preexisting cell. The doctrine of Schwann, +as I remarked long ago (1844), runs parallel with the nebular theory in +astronomy, and they may yet stand or fall together. + +As we have seen Nature anticipating the plasterer in fibro-cartilage, so +we see her beforehand with the glassblower in her dealings with the cell. +The artisan blows his vitreous bubbles, large or small, to be used +afterwards as may be wanted. So Nature shapes her hyaline vesicles and +modifies them to serve the needs of the part where they are found. The +artisan whirls his rod, and his glass bubble becomes a flattened disk, +with its bull's-eye for a nucleus. These lips of ours are all glazed +with microscopic tiles formed of flattened cells, each one of them with +its nucleus still as plain and relatively as prominent, to the eye of the +microscopist, as the bull's-eye in the old-fashioned windowpane. +Everywhere we find cells, modified or unchanged. They roll in +inconceivable multitudes (five millions and more to the cubic millimetre, +according to Vierordt) as blood-disks through our vessels. A +close-fitting mail of flattened cells coats our surface with a panoply of +imbricated scales (more than twelve thousand millions), as Harting has +computed, as true a defence against our enemies as the buckler of the +armadillo or the carapace of the tortoise against theirs. The same +little protecting organs pave all the great highways of the interior +system. Cells, again, preside over the chemical processes which +elaborate the living fluids; they change their form to become the agents +of voluntary and involuntary motion; the soul itself sits on a throne of +nucleated cells, and flashes its mandates through skeins of glassy +filaments which once were simple chains of vesicles. And, as if to +reduce the problem of living force to its simplest expression, we see the +yolk of a transparent egg dividing itself in whole or in part, and again +dividing and subdividing, until it becomes a mass of cells, out of which +the harmonious diversity of the organs arranges itself, worm or man, as +God has willed from the beginning. + +This differentiation having been effected, each several part assumes its +special office, having a life of its own adjusted to that of other parts +and the whole. "Just as a tree constitutes a mass arranged in a definite +manner, in which, in every single part, in the leaves as in the root, in +the trunk as in the blossom, cells are discovered to be the ultimate +elements, so is it also with the forms of animal life. Every animal +presents itself as a sum of vital unities, every one of which manifests +all the characteristics of life." + +The mechanism is as clear, as unquestionable, as absolutely settled and +universally accepted, as the order of movement of the heavenly bodies, +which we compute backward to the days of the observatories on the plains +of Shinar, and on the faith of which we regulate the movements of war and +trade by the predictions of our ephemeris. + +The mechanism, and that is all. We see the workman and the tools, but +the skill that guides the work and the power that performs it are as +invisible as ever. I fear that not every listener took the significance +of those pregnant words in the passage I quoted from John +Bell,--"thinking to discover its properties in its form." We have +discovered the working bee in this great hive of organization. We have +detected the cell in the very act of forming itself from a nucleus, of +transforming itself into various tissues, of selecting the elements of +various secretions. But why one cell becomes nerve and another muscle, +why one selects bile and another fat, we can no more pretend to tell, +than why one grape sucks out of the soil the generous juice which princes +hoard in their cellars, and another the wine which it takes three men to +drink,--one to pour it down, another to swallow it, and a third to hold +him while it is going down. Certain analogies between this selecting +power and the phenomena of endosmosis in the elective affinities of +chemistry we can find, but the problem of force remains here, as +everywhere, unsolved and insolvable. + +Do we gain anything by attempting to get rid of the idea of a special +vital force because we find certain mutually convertible relations +between forces in the body and out of it? I think not, any more than we +should gain by getting rid of the idea and expression Magnetism because +of its correlation with electricity. We may concede the unity of all +forms of force, but we cannot overlook the fixed differences of its +manifestations according to the conditions under which it acts. It is a +mistake, however, to think the mystery is greater in an organized body +than in any other. We see a stone fall or a crystal form, and there is +nothing stranger left to wonder at, for we have seen the Infinite in +action. + +Just so far as we can recognize the ordinary modes of operation of the +common forces of nature,--gravity, cohesion, elasticity, transudation, +chemical action, and the rest,--we see the so-called vital acts in the +light of a larger range of known facts and familiar analogies. +Matteuecci's well-remembered lectures contain many and striking examples +of the working of physical forces in physiological processes. Wherever +rigid experiment carries us, we are safe in following this lead; but the +moment we begin to theorize beyond our strict observation, we are in +danger of falling into those mechanical follies which true science has +long outgrown. + +Recognizing the fact, then, that we have learned nothing but the +machinery of life, and are no nearer to its essence, what is it that we +have gained by this great discovery of the cell formation and function? + +It would have been reward enough to learn the method Nature pursues for +its own sake. If the sovereign Artificer lets us into his own +laboratories and workshops, we need not ask more than the privilege of +looking on at his work. We do not know where we now stand in the +hierarchy of created intelligences. We were made a little lower than the +angels. I speak it not irreverently; as the lower animals surpass man in +some of their attributes, so it may be that not every angel's eye can see +as broadly and as deeply into the material works of God as man himself, +looking at the firmament through an equatorial of fifteen inches' +aperture, and searching into the tissues with a twelfth of an inch +objective. + +But there are other positive gains of a more practical character. Thus we +are no longer permitted to place the seat of the living actions in the +extreme vessels, which are only the carriers from which each part takes +what it wants by the divine right of the omnipotent nucleated cell. The +organism has become, in the words already borrowed from Virchow, "a sum +of vital unities." The strictum and laxum, the increased and diminished +action of the vessels, out of which medical theories and methods of +treatment have grown up, have yielded to the doctrine of local +cell-communities, belonging to this or that vascular district, from which +they help themselves, as contractors are wont to do from the national +treasury. + +I cannot promise to do more than to select a few of the points of contact +between our ignorance and our knowledge which present particular interest +in the existing state of our physiological acquisitions. Some of them +involve the microscopic discoveries of which I have been speaking, some +belong to the domain of chemistry, and some have relations with other +departments of physical science. + +If we should begin with the digestive function, we should find that the +long-agitated question of the nature of the acid of the gastric juice is +becoming settled in favor of the lactic. But the whole solvent agency of +the digestive fluid enters into the category of that exceptional mode of +action already familiar to us in chemistry as catalysis. It is therefore +doubly difficult of explanation; first, as being, like all reactions, a +fact not to be accounted for except by the imaginative appeal to +"affinity," and secondly, as being one of those peculiar reactions +provoked by an element which stands outside and looks on without +compromising itself. + +The doctrine of Mulder, so widely diffused in popular and scientific +belief, of the existence of a common base of all albuminous substances, +the so-called protein, has not stood the test of rigorous analysis. The +division of food into azotized and non-azotized is no doubt important, +but the attempt to show that the first only is plastic or nutritive, +while the second is simply calorifacient, or heat-producing, fails +entirely in the face of the facts revealed by the study of man in +different climates, and of numerous experiments in the feeding of +animals. I must return to this subject in connection with the +respiratory function. + +The sugar-making faculty of the liver is another "catalytic" mystery, as +great as the rest of them, and no greater. Liver-tissue brings sugar out +of the blood, or out of its own substance;--why? + + Quia est in eo + Virtus saccharitiva. + +Just what becomes of the sugar beyond the fact of its disappearance +before it can get into the general circulation and sweeten our tempers, +it is hard to say. + +The pancreatic fluid makes an emulsion of the fat contained in our food, +but just how the fatty particles get into the villi we must leave Brucke +and Kolliker to settle if they can. + +No one has shown satisfactorily the process by which the blood-corpuscles +are formed out of the lymph-corpuscles, nor what becomes of them. These +two questions are like those famous household puzzles,--Where do the +flies come from? and, Where do the pins go to? + +There is a series of organs in the body which has long puzzled +physiologists,--organs of glandular aspect, but having no ducts,--the +spleen, the thyroid and thymus bodies, and the suprarenal capsules. We +call them vascular glands, and we believe that they elaborate colored and +uncolored blood-cells; but just what changes they effect, and just how +they effect them, it has proved a very difficult matter to determine. So +of the noted glandules which form Peyer's patches, their precise office, +though seemingly like those of the lymphatic glands, cannot be positively +assigned, so far as I know, at the present time. It is of obvious +interest to learn it with reference to the pathology of typhoid fever. +It will be remarked that the coincidence of their changes in this disease +with enlargement of the spleen suggests the idea of a similarity of +function in these two organs. + +The theories of the production of animal heat, from the times of Black, +Lavoisier, and Crawford to those of Liebig, are familiar to all who have +paid any attention to physiological studies. The simplicity of Liebig's +views, and the popular form in which they have been presented, have given +them wide currency, and incorporated them in the common belief and +language of our text-books. Direct oxidation or combustion of the carbon +and hydrogen contained in the food, or in the tissues themselves; the +division of alimentary substances into respiratory, or non-azotized, and +azotized,--these doctrines are familiar even to the classes in our +high-schools. But this simple statement is boldly questioned. Nothing +proves that oxygen combines (in the system) with hydrogen and carbon in +particular, rather than with sulphur and azote. Such is the +well-grounded statement of Robin and Verdeil. "It is very probable that +animal heat is entirely produced by the chemical actions which take place +in the organism, but the phenomenon is too complex to admit of our +calculating it according to the quality of oxygen consumed." These last +are the words of Regnault, as cited by Mr. Lewes, whose intelligent +discussion of this and many of the most interesting physiological +problems I strongly recommend to your attention. + +This single illustration covers a wider ground than the special function +to which it belongs. We are learning that the chemistry of the body must +be studied, not simply by its ingesta and egesta, but that there is a +long intermediate series of changes which must be investigated in their +own light, under their own special conditions. The expression "sum of +vital unities" applies to the chemical actions, as well as to other +actions localized in special parts; and when the distinguished chemists +whom I have just cited entitle their work a treatise on the immediate +principles of the body, they only indicate the nature of that profound +and subtile analysis which must take the place of all hasty +generalizations founded on a comparison of the food with residual +products. + +I will only call your attention to the fact, that the exceptional +phenomenon of the laboratory is the prevailing law of the organism. +Nutrition itself is but one great catalytic process. As the blood +travels its rounds, each part selects its appropriate element and +transforms it to its own likeness. Whether the appropriating agent be +cell or nucleus, or a structureless solid like the intercellular +substance of cartilage, the fact of its presence determines the +separation of its proper constituents from the circulating fluid, so that +even when we are wounded bone is replaced by bone, skin by skin, and +nerve by nerve. + +It is hardly without a smile that we resuscitate the old question of the +'vis insita' of the muscular fibre, so famous in the discussions of +Haller and his contemporaries. Speaking generally, I think we may say +that Haller's doctrine is the one now commonly received; namely, that the +muscles contract in virtue of their own inherent endowments. It is true +that Kolliker says no perfectly decisive fact has been brought forward to +prove that the striated muscles contract without having been acted on +by nerves. Yet Mr. Bowman's observations on the contraction of isolated +fibres appear decisive enough (unless we consider them invalidated by Dr. +Lionel Beale's recent researches), tending to show that each elementary +fibre is supplied with nerves; and as to the smooth muscular fibres, we +have Virchow's statement respecting the contractility of those of the +umbilical cord, where there is not a trace of any nerves. + +In the investigation of the nervous system, anatomy and physiology have +gone hand in hand. It is very singular that so important, and seemingly +simple, a fact as the connection of the nerve-tubes, at their origin or +in their course, with the nerve-cells, should have so long remained open +to doubt, as you may see that it did by referring to the very complete +work of Sharpey and Quain (edition of 1849), the histological portion of +which is cordially approved by Kolliker himself. + +Several most interesting points of the minute anatomy of the nervous +centres have been laboriously and skilfully worked out by a recent +graduate of this Medical School, in a monograph worthy to stand in line +with those of Lockhart Clarke, Stilling, and Schroder van der Kolk. I +have had the privilege of examining and of showing some of you a number +of Dr. Dean's skilful preparations. I have no space to give even an +abstract of his conclusions. I can only refer to his proof of the fact, +that a single cell may send its processes into several different bundles +of nerve-roots, and to his demonstration of the curved ascending and +descending fibres from the posterior nerveroots, to reach what he has +called the longitudinal columns of the cornea. I must also mention Dr. +Dean's exquisite microscopic photographs from sections of the medulla +oblongata, which appear to me to promise a new development, if not a new +epoch, in anatomical art. + +It having been settled that the nerve-tubes can very commonly be traced +directly to the nerve-cells, the object of all the observers in this +department of anatomy is to follow these tubes to their origin. We have +an infinite snarl of telegraph wires, and we may be reasonably sure, +that, if we can follow them up, we shall find each of them ends in a +battery somewhere. One of the most interesting problems is to find the +ganglionic origin of the great nerves of the medulla oblongata, and this +is the end to which, by the aid of the most delicate sections, colored so +as to bring out their details, mounted so as to be imperishable, +magnified by the best instruments, and now self-recorded in the light of +the truth-telling sunbeam, our fellow-student is making a steady progress +in a labor which I think bids fair to rank with the most valuable +contributions to histology that we have had from this side of the +Atlantic. + +It is interesting to see how old questions are incidentally settled in +the course of these new investigations. Thus, Mr. Clarke's dissections, +confirmed by preparations of Mr. Dean's which I have myself examined, +placed the fact of the decussation of the pyramids--denied by Haller, by +Morgagni, and even by Stilling--beyond doubt. So the spinal canal, the +existence of which, at least in the adult, has been so often disputed, +appears as a coarse and unequivocal anatomical fact in many of the +preparations referred to. + +While these studies of the structure of the cord have been going on, the +ingenious and indefatigable Brown-Sequard has been investigating the +functions of its different parts with equal diligence. The microscopic +anatomists had shown that the ganglionic corpuscles of the gray matter of +the cord are connected with each other by their processes, as well as +with the nerve-roots. M. Brown-Sequard has proved by numerous +experiments that the gray substance transmits sensitive impressions and +muscular stimulation. The oblique ascending and descending fibres from +the posterior nerve-roots, joining the "longitudinal columns of the +cornua," account for the results of Brown-Sequard's sections of the +posterior columns. The physiological experimenter has also made it +evident that the decussation of the conductors of sensitive impressions +has its seat in the spinal core, and not in the encephalon, as had been +supposed. Not less remarkable than these results are the facts, which I +with others of my audience have had the opportunity of observing, as +shown by M. Brown-Sequard, of the artificial production of epilepsy in +animals by injuring the spinal cord, and the induction of the paroxysm by +pinching a certain portion of the skin. I would also call the student's +attention to his account of the relations of the nervous centres to +nutrition and secretion, the last of which relations has been made the +subject of an extended essay by our fellow countryman, Dr. H. F. Campbell +of Georgia. + +The physiology of the spinal cord seems a simple matter as you study it +in Longet. The experiments of Brown-Sequard have shown the problem to be +a complex one, and raised almost as many doubts as they have solved +questions; at any rate, I believe all lecturers on physiology agree that +there is no part of their task they dread so much as the analysis of the +evidence relating to the special offices of the different portions of the +medulla spinalis. In the brain we are sure that we do not know how to +localize functions; in the spinal cord, we think we do know something; +but there are so many anomalies, and seeming contradictions, and sources +of fallacy, that beyond the facts of crossed paralysis of sensation, and +the conducting agency of the gray substance, I am afraid we retain no +cardinal principles discovered since the development of the reflex +function took its place by Sir Charles Bell's great discovery. + +By the manner in which I spoke of the brain, you will see that I am +obliged to leave phrenology sub Jove,--out in the cold,--as not one of +the household of science. I am not one of its haters; on the contrary, I +am grateful for the incidental good it has done. I love to amuse myself +in its plaster Golgothas, and listen to the glib professor, as he +discovers by his manipulations + + "All that disgraced my betters met in me." + +I loved of old to see square-headed, heavy-jawed Spurzheim make a brain +flower out into a corolla of marrowy filaments, as Vieussens had done +before him, and to hear the dry-fibred but human-hearted George Combe +teach good sense under the disguise of his equivocal system. But the +pseudo-sciences, phrenology and the rest, seem to me only appeals to weak +minds and the weak points of strong ones. There is a pica or false +appetite in many intelligences; they take to odd fancies in place of +wholesome truth, as girls gnaw at chalk and charcoal. Phrenology juggles +with nature. It is so adjusted as to soak up all evidence that helps it, +and shed all that harms it. It crawls forward in all weathers, like +Richard Edgeworth's hygrometer. It does not stand at the boundary of our +ignorance, it seems to me, but is one of the will-o'-the-wisps of its +undisputed central domain of bog and quicksand. Yet I should not have +devoted so many words to it, did I not recognize the light it has thrown +on human actions by its study of congenital organic tendencies. Its maps +of the surface of the head are, I feel sure, founded on a delusion, but +its studies of individual character are always interesting and +instructive. + +The "snapping-turtle" strikes after its natural fashion when it first +comes out of the egg. Children betray their tendencies in their way of +dealing with the breasts that nourish them; nay, lean venture to affirm, +that long before they are born they teach their mothers something of +their turbulent or quiet tempers. + + "Castor gaudet equis, ovo proanatus eodem + Pugnis." + +Strike out the false pretensions of phrenology; call it anthropology; let +it study man the individual in distinction from man the abstraction, the +metaphysical or theological lay-figure; and it becomes "the proper study +of mankind," one of the noblest and most interesting of pursuits. + +The whole physiology of the nervous system, from the simplest +manifestation of its power in an insect up to the supreme act of the +human intelligence working through the brain, is full of the most +difficult yet profoundly interesting questions. The singular relations +between electricity and nerve-force, relations which it has been +attempted to interpret as meaning identity, in the face of palpable +differences, require still more extended studies. You may be interested +by Professor Faraday's statement of his opinion on the matter. "Though I +am not satisfied that the nervous fluid is only electricity, still I +think that the agent in the nervous system maybe an inorganic force; and +if there be reason for supposing that magnetism is a higher relation of +force than electricity, so it may well be imagined that the nervous power +may be of a still more exalted character, and yet within the reach of +experiment." + +In connection with this statement, it is interesting to refer to the +experiments of Helmholtz on the rapidity of transmission of the nervous +actions. The rate is given differently in Valentin's report of these +experiments and in that found in the "Scientific Annual" for 1858. One +hundred and eighty to three hundred feet per second is the rate of +movement assigned for sensation, but all such results must be very +vaguely approximative. Boxers, fencers, players at the Italian game of +morn, "prestidigitators," and all who depend for their success on +rapidity of motion, know what differences there are in the personal +equation of movement. + +Reflex action, the mechanical sympathy, if I may so call it, of distant +parts; Instinct, which is crystallized intelligence,--an absolute law +with its invariable planes and angles introduced into the sphere of +consciousness, as raphides are inclosed in the living cells of plants; +Intellect,--the operation of the thinking principle through material +organs, with an appreciable waste of tissue in every act of thought, so +that our clergymen's blood has more phosphates to get rid of on Monday +than on any other day of the week; Will,--theoretically the absolute +determining power, practically limited in different degrees by the +varying organization of races and individuals, annulled or perverted by +different ill-understood organic changes; on all these subjects our +knowledge is in its infancy, and from the study of some of them the +interdict of the Vatican is hardly yet removed. + +I must allude to one or two points in the histology and physiology of the +organs of sense. The anterior continuation of the retina beyond the ora +serrata has been a subject of much discussion. If H. Muller and Kolliker +can be relied upon, this question is settled by recognizing that a layer +of cells, continued from the retina, passes over the surface of the +zonula Zinnii, but that no proper nervous element is so prolonged +forward. + +I observe that Kolliker calls the true nervous elements of the retina +"the layer of gray cerebral substance." In fact, the ganglionic +corpuscles of each eye may be considered as constituting a little brain, +connected with the masses behind by the commissure, commonly called the +optic nerve. We are prepared, therefore, to find these two little brains +in the most intimate relations with each other, as we find the cerebral +hemispheres. We know that they are directly connected by fibres that +arch round through the chiasma. + +I mention these anatomical facts to introduce a physiological observation +of my own, first announced in one of the lectures before the Medical +Class, subsequently communicated to the American Academy of Arts and +Sciences, and printed in its "Transactions" for February 14, 1860. I +refer to the apparent transfer of impressions from one retina to the +other, to which I have given the name reflex vision. The idea was +suggested to me in consequence of certain effects noticed in employing +the stereoscope. Professor William B. Rodgers has since called the +attention of the American Scientific Association to some facts bearing on +the subject, and to a very curious experiment of Leonardo da Vinci's, +which enables the observer to look through the palm of his hand (or seem +to), as if it had a hole bored through it. As he and others hesitated to +accept my explanation, I was not sorry to find recently the following +words in the "Observations on Man" of that acute observer and thinker, +David Hartley. "An impression made on the right eye alone by a single +object may propagate itself into the left, and there raise up an image +almost equal in vividness to itself; and consequently when we see with +one eye only, we may, however, have pictures in both eyes." Hartley, in +1784, had anticipated many of the doctrines which have since been +systematized into the theory of reflex actions, and with which I have +attempted to associate this act of reflex vision. My sixth experiment, +however, in the communication referred to, appears to me to be a crucial +one, proving the correctness of my explanation, and I am not aware that +it has been before instituted. + +Another point of great interest connected with the physiology of vision, +and involved for a long time in great obscurity, is that of the +adjustment of the eye to different distances. Dr. Clay Wallace of New +York, who published a very ingenious little book on the eye about twenty +years ago, with vignettes reminding one of Bewick, was among the first, +if not the first, to describe the ciliary muscle, to which the power of +adjustment is generally ascribed. It is ascertained, by exact experiment +with the phacueidoscope, that accommodation depends on change of form of +the crystalline lens. Where the crystalline is wanting, as Mr. Ware long +ago taught, no power of accommodation remains. The ciliary muscle is +generally thought to effect the change of form of the crystalline. The +power of accommodation is lost after the application of atropine, in +consequence, as is supposed, of the paralysis of this muscle. This, I +believe, is the nearest approach to a demonstration we have on this +point. + +I have only time briefly to refer to Professor Draper's most ingenious +theory as to the photographic nature of vision, for an account of which I +must refer to his original and interesting Treatise on Physiology. + +It were to be wished that the elaborate and very interesting researches +of the Marquis Corti, which have revealed such singular complexity of +structure in the cochlea of the ear, had done more to clear up its +doubtful physiology; but I am afraid we have nothing but hypotheses for +the special part it plays in the act of hearing, and that we must say the +same respecting the office of the semicircular canals. + +The microscope has achieved some of its greatest triumphs in teaching us +the changes which occur in the development of the embryo. No more +interesting discovery stands recorded in the voluminous literature of +this subject than the one originally announced by Martin Barry, +afterwards discredited, and still later confirmed by Mr. Newport and +others; namely the fact that the fertilizing filament reaches the +interior of the ovum in various animals;--a striking parallel to the +action of the pollen-tube in the vegetable. But beyond the mechanical +facts all is mystery in the movements of organization, as profound as in +the fall of a stone or the formation of a crystal. + +To the chemist and the microscopist the living body presents the same +difficulties, arising from the fact that everything is in perpetual +change in the organism. The fibrine of the blood puzzles the one as much +as its globules puzzle the other. The difference between the branches of +science which deal with space only, and those which deal with space and +time, is this: we have no glasses that can magnify time. The figure I +here show you a was photographed from an object (pleurosigma angulatum) +magnified a thousand diameters, or presenting a million times its natural +surface. This other figure of the same object, enlarged from the one +just shown, is magnified seven thousand diameters, or forty-nine million +times in surface. When we can make the forty-nine millionth of a second +as long as its integer, physiology and chemistry will approach nearer the +completeness of anatomy. + +Our reverence becomes more worthy, or, if you will, less unworthy of its +Infinite Object in proportion as our intelligence is lifted and expanded +to a higher and broader understanding of the Divine methods of action. +If Galen called his heathen readers to admire, the power, the wisdom, the +providence, the goodness of the "Framer of the animal body,"--if Mr. +Boyle, the student of nature, as Addison and that friend of his who had +known him for forty years tell us, never uttered the name of the Supreme +Being without making a distinct pause in his speech, in token of his +devout recognition of its awful meaning,--surely we, who inherit the +accumulated wisdom of nearly two hundred years since the time of the +British philosopher, and of almost two thousand since the Greek +physician, may well lift our thoughts from the works we study to their +great Artificer. These wonderful discoveries which we owe to that mighty +little instrument, the telescope of the inner firmament with all its +included worlds; these simple formulae by which we condense the +observations of a generation in a single axiom; these logical analyses by +which we fence out the ignorance we cannot reclaim, and fix the limits of +our knowledge,--all lead us up to the inspiration of the Almighty, which +gives understanding to the world's great teachers. To fear science or +knowledge, lest it disturb our old beliefs, is to fear the influx of the +Divine wisdom into the souls of our fellow-men; for what is science but +the piecemeal revelation,--uncovering,--of the plan of creation, by the +agency of those chosen prophets of nature whom God has illuminated from +the central light of truth for that single purpose? + +The studies which we have glanced at are preliminary in your education to +the practical arts which make use of them,--the arts of healing,--surgery +and medicine. The more you examine the structure of the organs and the +laws of life, the more you will find how resolutely each of the +cell-republics which make up the E pluribus unum of the body maintains +its independence. Guard it, feed it, air it, warm it, exercise or rest +it properly, and the working elements will do their best to keep well or +to get well. What do we do with ailing vegetables? Dr. Warren, my +honored predecessor in this chair, bought a country-place, including half +of an old orchard. A few years afterwards I saw the trees on his side of +the fence looking in good health, while those on the other side were +scraggy and miserable. How do you suppose this change was brought about? +By watering them with Fowler's solution? By digging in calomel freely +about their roots? Not at all; but by loosening the soil round them, and +supplying them with the right kind of food in fitting quantities. + +Now a man is not a plant, or, at least, he is a very curious one, for he +carries his soil in his stomach, which is a kind--of portable flower-pot, +and he grows round it, instead of out of it. He has, besides, a +singularly complex nutritive apparatus and a nervous system. But +recollect the doctrine already enunciated in the language of Virchow, +that an animal, like a tree, is a sum of vital unities, of which the cell +is the ultimate element. Every healthy cell, whether in a vegetable or +an animal, necessarily performs its function properly so long as it is +supplied with its proper materials and stimuli. A cell may, it is true, +be congenitally defective, in which case disease is, so to speak, its +normal state. But if originally sound and subsequently diseased, there +has certainly been some excess, deficiency, or wrong quality in the +materials or stimuli applied to it. You remove this injurious influence +and substitute a normal one; remove the baked coal-ashes, for instance, +from the roots of a tree, and replace them with loam; take away the salt +meat from the patient's table, and replace it with fresh meat and +vegetables, and the cells of the tree or the man return to their duty. + +I do not know that we ever apply to a plant any element which is not a +natural constituent of the vegetable structure, except perhaps +externally, for the accidental purpose of killing parasites. The whole +art of cultivation consists in learning the proper food and conditions of +plants, and supplying them. We give them water, earths, salts of various +kinds such as they are made of, with a chance to help themselves to air +and light. The farmer would be laughed at who undertook to manure his +fields or his trees with a salt of lead or of arsenic. These elements +are not constituents of healthy plants. The gardener uses the waste of +the arsenic furnaces to kill the weeds in his walks. + +If the law of the animal cell, and of the animal organism, which is built +up of such cells, is like that of the vegetable, we might expect that we +should treat all morbid conditions of any of the vital unities belonging +to an animal in the same way, by increasing, diminishing, or changing its +natural food or stimuli. + +That is an aliment which nourishes; whatever we find in the organism, as +a constant and integral element, either forming part of its structure, or +one of the conditions of vital processes, that and that only deserves the +name of aliment. I see no reason, therefore, why iron, phosphate of +lime, sulphur, should not be considered food for man, as much as guano or +poudrette for vegetables. Whether one or another of them is best in any +given case,--whether they shall be taken alone or in combination, in +large or small quantities, are separate questions. But they are elements +belonging to the body, and even in moderate excess will produce little +disturbance. There is no presumption against any of this class of +substances, any more than against water or salt, provided they are used +in fitting combinations, proportions, and forms. + +But when it comes to substances alien to the healthy system, which never +belong to it as normal constituents, the case is very different. There +is a presumption against putting lead or arsenic into the human body, as +against putting them into plants, because they do not belong there, any +more than pounded glass, which, it is said, used to be given as a poison. +The same thing is true of mercury and silver. What becomes of these +alien substances after they get into the system we cannot always tell. +But in the case of silver, from the accident of its changing color under +the influence of light, we do know what happens. It is thrown out, in +part at least, under the epidermis, and there it remains to the patient's +dying day. This is a striking illustration of the difficulty which the +system finds in dealing with non-assimilable elements, and justifies in +some measure the vulgar prejudice against mineral poisons. + +I trust the youngest student on these benches will not commit the +childish error of confounding a presumption against a particular class of +agents with a condemnation of them. Mercury, for instance, is alien to +the system, and eminently disturbing in its influence. Yet its efficacy +in certain forms of specific disease is acknowledged by all but the most +sceptical theorists. Even the esprit moqueur of Ricord, the Voltaire of +pelvic literature, submits to the time-honored constitutional authority +of this great panacea in the class of cases to which he has devoted his +brilliant intelligence. Still, there is no telling what evils have +arisen from the abuse of this mineral. Dr. Armstrong long ago pointed +out some of them, and they have become matters of common notoriety. I am +pleased, therefore, when I find so able and experienced a practitioner as +Dr. Williams of this city proving that iritis is best treated without +mercury, and Dr. Vanderpoel showing the same thing to be true for +pericarditis. + +Whatever elements nature does not introduce into vegetables, the natural +food of all animal life,--directly of herbivorous, indirectly of +carnivorous animals,--are to be regarded with suspicion. Arsenic-eating +may seem to improve the condition of horses for a time,--and even of +human beings, if Tschudi's stories can be trusted,--but it soon appears +that its alien qualities are at war with the animal organization. So of +copper, antimony, and other non-alimentary simple substances; everyone of +them is an intruder in the living system, as much as a constable would +be, quartered in our household. This does not mean that they may not, any +of them, be called in for a special need, as we send for the constable +when we have good reason to think we have a thief under our roof; but a +man's body is his castle, as well as his house, and the presumption is +that we are to keep our alimentary doors bolted against these perturbing +agents. + +Now the feeling is very apt to be just contrary to this. The habit has +been very general with well-taught practitioners, to have recourse to the +introduction of these alien elements into the system on the occasion of +any slight disturbance. The tongue was a little coated, and mercury must +be given; the skin was a little dry, and the patient must take antimony. +It was like sending for the constable and the posse comitatus when there +is only a carpet to shake or a refuse-barrel to empty. [Dr. James Johnson +advises persons not ailing to take five grains of blue pill with one or +two of aloes twice a week for three or four months in the year, with half +a pint of compound decoction of sarsaparilla every day for the same +period, to preserve health and prolong life. Pract. Treatise on Dis. +of Liver, etc. p. 272.] The constitution bears slow poisoning a great +deal better than might be expected; yet the most intelligent men in the +profession have gradually got out of the habit of prescribing these +powerful alien substances in the old routine way. Mr. Metcalf will tell +you how much more sparingly they are given by our practitioners at the +present time, than when he first inaugurated the new era of pharmacy +among us. Still, the presumption in favor of poisoning out every +spontaneous reaction of outraged nature is not extinct in those who are +trusted with the lives of their fellow-citizens. "On examining the file +of prescriptions at the hospital, I discovered that they were rudely +written, and indicated a treatment, as they consisted chiefly of tartar +emetic, ipecacuanha, and epsom salts, hardly favorable to the cure of the +prevailing diarrhoea and dysenteries." In a report of a poisoning case +now on trial, where we are told that arsenic enough was found in the +stomach to produce death in twenty-four hours, the patient is said to +have been treated by arsenic, phosphorus, bryonia, aconite, nux vomica, +and muriatic acid,--by a practitioner of what school it may be imagined. + +The traditional idea of always poisoning out disease, as we smoke out +vermin, is now seeking its last refuge behind the wooden cannon and +painted port-holes of that unblushing system of false scientific +pretences which I do not care to name in a discourse addressed to an +audience devoted to the study of the laws of nature in the light of the +laws of evidence. It is extraordinary to observe that the system which, +by its reducing medicine to a name and a farce, has accustomed all who +have sense enough to see through its thin artifices to the idea that +diseases get well without being "cured," should now be the main support +of the tottering poison-cure doctrine. It has unquestionably helped to +teach wise people that nature heals most diseases without help from +pharmaceutic art, but it continues to persuade fools that art can arrest +them all with its specifics. + +It is worse than useless to attempt in any way to check the freest +expression of opinion as to the efficacy of any or all of the "heroic" +means of treatment employed by practitioners of different schools and +periods. Medical experience is a great thing, but we must not forget +that there is a higher experience, which tries its results in a court of +a still larger jurisdiction; that, namely, in which the laws of human +belief are summoned to the witness-box, and obliged to testify to the +sources of error which beset the medical practitioner. The verdict is as +old as the father of medicine, who announces it in the words, "judgment +is difficult." Physicians differed so in his time, that some denied that +there was any such thing as an art of medicine. + +One man's best remedies were held as mischievous by another. The art of +healing was like soothsaying, so the common people said; "the same bird +was lucky or unlucky, according as he flew to the right or left." + +The practice of medicine has undergone great changes within the period of +my own observation. Venesection, for instance, has so far gone out of +fashion, that, as I am told by residents of the New York Bellevue and the +Massachusetts General Hospitals, it is almost obsolete in these +institutions, at least in medical practice. The old Brunonian +stimulating treatment has come into vogue again in the practice of Dr. +Todd and his followers. The compounds of mercury have yielded their +place as drugs of all work, and specifics for that very frequent +subjective complaint, nescio quid faciam,--to compounds of iodine. [Sir +Astley Cooper has the boldness,--or honesty,--to speak of medicines which +"are given as much to assist the medical man as his patient." Lectures +(London, 1832), p. 14.] Opium is believed in, and quinine, and "rum," +using that expressive monosyllable to mean all alcoholic cordials. If +Moliere were writing now, instead of saignare, purgare, and the other, he +would be more like to say, Stimulare, opium dare et potassio-iodizare. + +I have been in relation successively with the English and American +evacuant and alterative practice, in which calomel and antimony figured +so largely that, as you may see in Dr. Jackson's last "Letter," Dr. +Holyoke, a good representative of sterling old-fashioned medical art, +counted them with opium and Peruvian bark as his chief remedies; with the +moderately expectant practice of Louis; the blood-letting "coup sur coup" +of Bouillaud; the contra-stimulant method of Rasori and his followers; +the anti-irritant system of Broussais, with its leeching and gum-water; I +have heard from our own students of the simple opium practice of the +renowned German teacher, Oppolzer; and now I find the medical community +brought round by the revolving cycle of opinion to that same old plan of +treatment which John Brown taught in Edinburgh in the last quarter of the +last century, and Miner and Tully fiercely advocated among ourselves in +the early years of the present. The worthy physicians last mentioned, +and their antagonist Dr. Gallup, used stronger language than we of these +degenerate days permit ourselves. "The lancet is a weapon which annually +slays more than the sword," says Dr. Tully. "It is probable that, for +forty years past, opium and its preparations have done seven times the +injury they have rendered benefit, on the great scale of the world," says +Dr. Gallup. + +What is the meaning of these perpetual changes and conflicts of medical +opinion and practice, from an early antiquity to our own time? Simply +this: all "methods" of treatment end in disappointment of those +extravagant expectations which men are wont to entertain of medical art. +The bills of mortality are more obviously affected by drainage, than by +this or that method of practice. The insurance companies do not commonly +charge a different percentage on the lives of the patients of this or +that physician. In the course of a generation, more or less, physicians +themselves are liable to get tired of a practice which has so little +effect upon the average movement of vital decomposition. Then they are +ready for a change, even if it were back again to a method which has +already been tried, and found wanting. + +Our practitioners, or many of them, have got back to the ways of old Dr. +Samuel Danforth, who, as it is well known, had strong objections to the +use of the lancet. By and by a new reputation will be made by some +discontented practitioner, who, tired of seeing patients die with their +skins full of whiskey and their brains muddy with opium, returns to a +bold antiphlogistic treatment, and has the luck to see a few patients of +note get well under it. So of the remedies which have gone out of +fashion and been superseded by others. It can hardly be doubted that +they will come into vogue again, more or less extensively, under the +influence of that irresistible demand for change just referred to. + +Then will come the usual talk about a change in the character of disease, +which has about as much meaning as that concerning "old-fashioned +snow-storms." "Epidemic constitutions" of disease mean something, no +doubt; a great deal as applied to malarious affections; but that the +whole type of diseases undergoes such changes that the practice must be +reversed from depleting to stimulating, and vice versa, is much less +likely than that methods of treatment go out of fashion and come in +again. If there is any disease which claims its percentage with +reasonable uniformity, it is phthisis. Yet I remember that the reverend +and venerable Dr. Prince of Salem told me one Commencement day, as I was +jogging along towards Cambridge with him, that he recollected the time +when that disease was hardly hardly known; and in confirmation of his +statement mentioned a case in which it was told as a great event, that +somebody down on "the Cape" had died of "a consumption." This story does +not sound probable to myself, as I repeat it, yet I assure you it is +true, and it shows how cautiously we must receive all popular stories of +great changes in the habits of disease. + +Is there no progress, then, but do we return to the same beliefs and +practices which our forefathers wore out and threw away? I trust and +believe that there is a real progress. We may, for instance, return in a +measure to the Brunonian stimulating system, but it must be in a modified +way, for we cannot go back to the simple Brunonian pathology, since we +have learned too much of diseased action to accept its convenient +dualism. So of other doctrines, each new Avatar strips them of some of +their old pretensions, until they take their fitting place at last, if +they have any truth in them, or disappear, if they were mere phantasms of +the imagination. + +In the mean time, while medical theories are coming in and going out, +there is a set of sensible men who are never run away with by them, but +practise their art sagaciously and faithfully in much the same way from +generation to generation. From the time of Hippocrates to that of our +own medical patriarch, there has been an apostolic succession of wise and +good practitioners. If you will look at the first aphorism of the +ancient Master you will see that before all remedies he places the proper +conduct of the patient and his attendants, and the fit ordering of all +the conditions surrounding him. The class of practitioners I have +referred to have always been the most faithful in attending to these +points. No doubt they have sometimes prescribed unwisely, in compliance +with the prejudices of their time, but they have grown wiser as they have +grown older, and learned to trust more in nature and less in their plans +of interference. I believe common opinion confirms Sir James Clark's +observation to this effect. + +The experience of the profession must, I think, run parallel with that of +the wisest of its individual members. Each time a plan of treatment or a +particular remedy comes up for trial, it is submitted to a sharper +scrutiny. When Cullen wrote his Materia Medica, he had seriously to +assail the practice of giving burnt toad, which was still countenanced by +at least one medical authority of note. I have read recently in some +medical journal, that an American practitioner, whose name is known to +the country, is prescribing the hoof of a horse for epilepsy. It was +doubtless suggested by that old fancy of wearing a portion of elk's hoof +hung round the neck or in a ring, for this disease. But it is hard to +persuade reasonable people to swallow the abominations of a former +period. The evidence which satisfied Fernelius will not serve one of our +hospital physicians. + +In this way those articles of the Materia Medica which had nothing but +loathsomeness to recommend them have been gradually dropped, and are not +like to obtain any general favor again with civilized communities. The +next culprits to be tried are the poisons. I have never been in the +least sceptical as to the utility of some of them, when properly +employed. Though I believe that at present, taking the world at large, +and leaving out a few powerful agents of such immense value that they +rank next to food in importance, the poisons prescribed for disease do +more hurt than good, I have no doubt, and never professed to have any, +that they do much good in prudent and instructed hands. But I am very +willing to confess a great jealousy of many agents, and I could almost +wish to see the Materia Medica so classed as to call suspicion upon +certain ones among them. + +Thus the alien elements, those which do not properly enter into the +composition of any living tissue, are the most to be suspected, +--mercury, lead, antimony, silver, and the rest, for the reasons I have +before mentioned. Even iodine, which, as it is found in certain plants, +seems less remote from the animal tissues, gives unequivocal proofs from +time to time that it is hostile to some portions of the glandular system. + +There is, of course, less prima facie objection to those agents which +consist of assimilable elements, such as are found making a part of +healthy tissues. These are divisible into three classes,--foods, +poisons, and inert, mostly because insoluble, substances. The food of +one animal or of one human being is sometimes poison to another, and vice +versa; inert substances may act mechanically, so as to produce the effect +of poisons; but this division holds exactly enough for our purpose. + +Strictly speaking, every poison consisting of assimilable elements may be +considered as unwholesome food. It is rejected by the stomach, or it +produces diarrhoea, or it causes vertigo or disturbance of the heart's +action, or some other symptom for which the subject of it would consult +the physician, if it came on from any other cause than taking it under +the name of medicine. Yet portions of this unwholesome food which we +call medicine, we have reason to believe, are assimilated; thus, +castor-oil appears to be partially digested by infants, so that they +require large doses to affect them medicinally. Even that deadliest of +poisons, hydrocyanic acid, is probably assimilated, and helps to make +living tissue, if it do not kill the patient, for the assimilable +elements which it contains, given in the separate forms of amygdalin and +emulsin, produce no disturbance, unless, as in Bernard's experiments, +they are suffered to meet in the digestive organs. A medicine consisting +of assimilable substances being then simply unwholesome food, we +understand what is meant by those cumulative effects of such remedies +often observed, as in the case of digitalis and strychnia. They are +precisely similar to the cumulative effects of a salt diet in producing +scurvy, or of spurred rye in producing dry gangrene. As the effects of +such substances are a violence to the organs, we should exercise the same +caution with regard to their use that we would exercise about any other +kind of poisonous food,--partridges at certain seasons, for instance. +Even where these poisonous kinds of food seem to be useful, we should +still regard them with great jealousy. Digitalis lowers the pulse in +febrile conditions. Veratrum viride does the same thing. How do we know +that a rapid pulse is not a normal adjustment of nature to the condition +it accompanies? Digitalis has gone out of favor; how sure are we that +Veratrum viride will not be found to do more harm than good in a case of +internal inflammation, taking the whole course of the disease into +consideration? Think of the change of opinion with regard to the use of +opium in delirium tremens (which you remember is sometimes called +delirium vigilans), where it seemed so obviously indicated, since the +publication of Dr. Ware's admirable essay. I respect the evidence of my +contemporaries, but I cannot forget the sayings of the Father of +medicine,--Ars longa, judicium diffcile. + +I am not presuming to express an opinion concerning Veratrum viride, +which was little heard of when I was still practising medicine. I am +only appealing to that higher court of experience which sits in judgment +on all decisions of the lower medical tribunals, and which requires more +than one generation for its final verdict. + +Once change the habit of mind so long prevalent among practitioners of +medicine; once let it be everywhere understood that the presumption is in +favor of food, and not of alien substances, of innocuous, and not of +unwholesome food, for the sick; that this presumption requires very +strong evidence in each particular case to overcome it; but that, when +such evidence is afforded, the alien substance or the unwholesome food +should be given boldly, in sufficient quantities, in the same spirit as +that with which the surgeon lifts his knife against a patient,--that is, +with the same reluctance and the same determination,--and I think we +shall have and hear much less of charlatanism in and out of the +profession. The disgrace of medicine has been that colossal system of +self-deception, in obedience to which mines have been emptied of their +cankering minerals, the vegetable kingdom robbed of all its noxious +growths, the entrails of animals taxed for their impurities, the +poison-bags of reptiles drained of their venom, and all the inconceivable +abominations thus obtained thrust down the throats of human beings +suffering from some fault of organization, nourishment, or vital +stimulation. + +Much as we have gained, we have not yet thoroughly shaken off the notion +that poison is the natural food of disease, as wholesome aliment is the +support of health. Cowper's lines, in "The Task," show the +matter-of-course practice of his time: + + "He does not scorn it, who has long endured + A fever's agonies, and fed on drugs." + +Dr. Kimball of Lowell, who has been in the habit of seeing a great deal +more of typhoid fever than most practitioners, and whose surgical +exploits show him not to be wanting in boldness or enterprise, can tell +you whether he finds it necessary to feed his patients on drugs or not. +His experience is, I believe, that of the most enlightened and advanced +portion of the profession; yet I think that even in typhoid fever, and +certainly in many other complaints, the effects of ancient habits and +prejudices may still be seen in the practice of some educated physicians. + +To you, young men, it belongs to judge all that has gone before you. You +come nearer to the great fathers of modern medicine than some of you +imagine. Three of my own instructors attended Dr. Rush's Lectures. The +illustrious Haller mentions Rush's inaugural thesis in his "Bibliotheca +Anatomica;" and this same Haller, brought so close to us, tells us he +remembers Ruysch, then an old man, and used to carry letters between him +and Boerhaave. Look through the history of medicine from Boerhaave to +this present day. You will see at once that medical doctrine and +practice have undergone a long series of changes. You will see that the +doctrine and practice of our own time must probably change in their turn, +and that, if we can trust at all to the indications of their course, it +will be in the direction of an improved hygiene and a simplified +treatment. Especially will the old habit of violating the instincts of +the sick give place to a judicious study of these same instincts. It +will be found that bodily, like mental insanity, is best managed, for the +most part, by natural soothing agencies. Two centuries ago there was a +prescription for scurvy containing "stercoris taurini et anserini par, +quantitas trium magnarum nucum," of the hell-broth containing which +"guoties-cumque sitit oeger, large bibit." When I have recalled the +humane common-sense of Captain Cook in the matter of preventing this +disease; when I have heard my friend, Mr. Dana, describing the avidity +with which the scurvy-stricken sailors snuffed up the earthy fragrance of +fresh raw potatoes, the food which was to supply the elements wanting to +their spongy tissues, I have recognized that the perfection of art is +often a return to nature, and seen in this single instance the germ of +innumerable beneficent future medical reforms. + +I cannot help believing that medical curative treatment will by and by +resolve itself in great measure into modifications of the food, swallowed +and breathed, and of the natural stimuli, and that less will be expected +from specifics and noxious disturbing agents, either alien or +assimilable. The noted mineral-waters containing iron, sulphur, carbonic +acid, supply nutritious or stimulating materials to the body as much as +phosphate of lime and ammoniacal compounds do to the cereal plants. The +effects of a milk and vegetable diet, of gluten bread in diabetes, of +cod-liver oil in phthisis, even of such audacious innovations as the +water-cure and the grape-cure, are only hints of what will be +accomplished when we have learned to discover what organic elements are +deficient or in excess in a case of chronic disease, and the best way of +correcting the abnormal condition, just as an agriculturist ascertains +the wants of his crops and modifies the composition of his soil. In +acute febrile diseases we have long ago discovered that far above all +drug-medication is the use of mild liquid diet in the period of +excitement, and of stimulant and nutritious food in that of exhaustion. +Hippocrates himself was as particular about his barley-ptisan as any +Florence Nightingale of our time could be. + +The generation to which you, who are just entering the profession, +belong, will make a vast stride forward, as I believe, in the direction +of treatment by natural rather than violent agencies. What is it that +makes the reputation of Sydenham, as the chief of English physicians? +His prescriptions consisted principally of simples. An aperient or an +opiate, a "cardiac" or a tonic, may be commonly found in the midst of a +somewhat fantastic miscellany of garden herbs. It was not by his +pharmaceutic prescriptions that he gained his great name. It was by +daring to order fresh air for small-pox patients, and riding on horseback +for consumptives, in place of the smothering system, and the noxious and +often loathsome rubbish of the established schools. Of course Sydenham +was much abused by his contemporaries, as he frequently takes occasion to +remind his reader. "I must needs conclude," he says, "either that I am +void of merit, or that the candid and ingenuous part of mankind, who are +formed with so excellent a temper of mind as to be no strangers to +gratitude, make a very small part of the whole." If in the fearless +pursuit of truth you should find the world as ungracious in the +nineteenth century as he found it in the seventeenth, you may learn a +lesson of self-reliance from another utterance of the same illustrious +physician: "'T is none of my business to inquire what other persons +think, but to establish my own observations; in order to which, I ask no +favor of the reader but to peruse my writings with temper." + +The physician has learned a great deal from the surgeon, who is naturally +in advance of him, because he has a better opportunity of seeing the +effects of his remedies. Let me shorten one of Ambroise Pare's stories +for you. There had been a great victory at the pass of Susa, and they +were riding into the city. The wounded cried out as the horses trampled +them under their hoofs, which caused good Ambroise great pity, and made +him wish himself back in Paris. Going into a stable he saw four dead +soldiers, and three desperately wounded, placed with their backs against +the wall. An old campaigner came up.--"Can these fellows get well?" he +said. "No!" answered the surgeon. Thereupon, the old soldier walked up +to them and cut all their throats, sweetly, and without wrath (doulcement +et sans cholere). Ambroise told him he was a bad man to do such a thing. +"I hope to God;" he said, "somebody will do as much for me if I ever get +into such a scrape" (accoustre de telle facon). "I was not much salted +in those days" (bien doux de sel), says Ambroise, "and little acquainted +with the treatment of wounds." However, as he tells us, he proceeded to +apply boiling oil of Sambuc (elder) after the approved fashion of the +time,--with what torture to the patient may be guessed. At last his +precious oil gave out, and he used instead an insignificant mixture of +his own contrivance. He could not sleep that night for fear his patients +who had not been scalded with the boiling oil would be poisoned by the +gunpowder conveyed into their wounds by the balls. To his surprise, he +found them much better than the others the next morning, and resolved +never again to burn his patients with hot oil for gun-shot wounds. + +This was the beginning, as nearly as we can fix it, of that reform which +has introduced plain water-dressings in the place of the farrago of +external applications which had been a source of profit to apothecaries +and disgrace to art from, and before, the time when Pliny complained of +them. A young surgeon who was at Sudley Church, laboring among the +wounded of Bull Run, tells me they had nothing but water for dressing, +and he (being also doux de sel) was astonished to see how well the wounds +did under that simple treatment. + +Let me here mention a fact or two which may be of use to some of you who +mean to enter the public service. You will, as it seems, have gun-shot +wounds almost exclusively to deal with. Three different surgeons, the +one just mentioned and two who saw the wounded of Big Bethel, assured me +that they found no sabre-cuts or bayonet wounds. It is the rifle-bullet +from a safe distance which pierces the breasts of our soldiers, and not +the gallant charge of broad platoons and sweeping squadrons, such as we +have been in the habit of considering the chosen mode of warfare of +ancient and modern chivalry. [Sir Charles James Napier had the same +experience in Virginia in 1813. "Potomac. We have nasty sort of fighting +here, amongst creeks and bushes, and lose men without show." "Yankee +never shows himself, he keeps in the thickest wood, fires and runs +off."--"These five thousand in the open field might be attacked, but +behind works it would be throwing away lives." He calls it "an +inglorious warfare,"--says one of the leaders is "a little deficient in +gumption,"--but--still my opinion is, that if we tuck up our sleeves and +lay our ears back we might thrash them; that is, if we caught them out of +their trees, so as to slap at them with the bayonet."--Life, etc. vol. +i. p. 218 et seq.] + +Another fact parallels the story of the old campaigner, and may teach +some of you caution in selecting your assistants. A chaplain told it to +two of our officers personally known to myself. He overheard the +examination of a man who wished to drive one of the "avalanche" wagons, +as they call them. The man was asked if he knew how to deal with wounded +men. "Oh yes," he answered; "if they're hit here," pointing to the +abdomen, "knock 'em on the head,--they can't get well." + +In art and outside of it you will meet the same barbarisms that Ambroise +Pare met with,--for men differ less from century to century than we are +apt to suppose; you will encounter the same opposition, if you attack any +prevailing opinion, that Sydenham complained of. So far as possible, let +not such experiences breed in you a contempt for those who are the +subjects of folly or prejudice, or foster any love of dispute for its own +sake. Should you become authors, express your opinions freely; defend +them rarely. It is not often that an opinion is worth expressing, which +cannot take care of itself. Opposition is the best mordant to fix the +color of your thought in the general belief. + +It is time to bring these crowded remarks to a close. The day has been +when at the beginning of a course of Lectures I should have thought it +fitting to exhort you to diligence and entire devotion to your tasks as +students. It is not so now. The young man who has not heard the +clarion-voices of honor and of duty now sounding throughout the land, +will heed no word of mine. In the camp or the city, in the field or the +hospital, under sheltering roof, or half-protecting canvas, or open sky, +shedding our own blood or stanching that of our wounded defenders, +students or teachers, whatever our calling and our ability, we belong, +not to ourselves, but to our imperilled country, whose danger is our +calamity, whose ruin would be our enslavement, whose rescue shall be our +earthly salvation! + + + + +SCHOLASTIC AND BEDSIDE TEACHING. + +An Introductory Lecture delivered before the Medical Class of Harvard +University, November 6, 1867. + +The idea is entertained by some of our most sincere professional +brethren, that to lengthen and multiply our Winter Lectures will be of +necessity to advance the cause of medical education. It is a fair +subject for consideration whether they do not overrate the relative +importance of that particular mode of instruction which forms the larger +part of these courses. + +As this School could only lengthen its lecture term at the expense of its +"Summer Session," in which more direct, personal, and familiar teaching +takes the place of our academic discourses, and in which more time can be +given to hospitals, infirmaries, and practical instruction in various +important specialties, whatever might be gained, a good deal would +certainly be lost in our case by the exchange. + +The most essential part of a student's instruction is obtained, as I +believe, not in the lecture-room, but at the bedside. Nothing seen there +is lost; the rhythms of disease are learned by frequent repetition; its +unforeseen occurrences stamp themselves indelibly in the memory. Before +the student is aware of what he has acquired, he has learned the aspects +and course and probable issue of the diseases he has seen with his +teacher, and the proper mode of dealing with them, so far as his master +knows it. On the other hand, our ex cathedra prelections have a strong +tendency to run into details which, however interesting they may be to +ourselves and a few of our more curious listeners, have nothing in them +which will ever be of use to the student as a practitioner. It is a +perfectly fair question whether I and some other American Professors do +not teach quite enough that is useless already. Is it not well to remind +the student from time to time that a physician's business is to avert +disease, to heal the sick, to prolong life, and to diminish suffering? +Is it not true that the young man of average ability will find it as much +as he can do to fit himself for these simple duties? Is it not best to +begin, at any rate, by making sure of such knowledge as he will require +in his daily walk, by no means discouraging him from any study for which +his genius fits him when he once feels that he has become master of his +chosen art. + +I know that many branches of science are of the greatest value as feeders +of our medical reservoirs. But the practising physician's office is to +draw the healing waters, and while he gives his time to this labor he can +hardly be expected to explore all the sources that spread themselves over +the wide domain of science. The traveller who would not drink of the +Nile until he had tracked it to its parent lakes, would be like to die of +thirst; and the medical practitioner who would not use the results of +many laborers in other departments without sharing their special toils, +would find life far too short and art immeasurably too long. + +We owe much to Chemistry, one of the most captivating as well as +important of studies; but the medical man must as a general rule content +himself with a clear view of its principles and a limited acquaintance +with its facts; such especially as are pertinent to his pursuits. I am +in little danger of underrating Anatomy or Physiology; but as each of +these branches splits up into specialties, any one of which may take up a +scientific life-time, I would have them taught with a certain judgment +and reserve, so that they shall not crowd the more immediately practical +branches. So of all the other ancillary and auxiliary kinds of +knowledge, I would have them strictly subordinated to that particular +kind of knowledge for which the community looks to its medical advisers. + +A medical school is not a scientific school, except just so far as +medicine itself is a science. On the natural history side, medicine is a +science; on the curative side, chiefly an art. This is implied in +Hufeland's aphorism: "The physician must generalize the disease and +individualize the patient." + +The coordinated and classified results of empirical observation, in +distinction from scientific experiment, have furnished almost all we know +about food, the medicine of health, and medicine, the food of sickness. +We eat the root of the Solanum tuberosum and throw away its fruit; we eat +the fruit of the Solanum Lycopersicum and throw away its root. Nothing +but vulgar experience has taught us to reject the potato ball and cook +the tomato. So of most of our remedies. The subchloride of mercury, +calomel, is the great British specific; the protochloride of mercury, +corrosive sublimate, kills like arsenic, but no chemist could have told +us it would be so. + +From observations like these we can obtain certain principles from which +we can argue deductively to facts of a like nature, but the process is +limited, and we are suspicious of all reasoning in that direction applied +to the processes of healthy and diseased life. We are continually +appealing to special facts. We are willing to give Liebig's artificial +milk when we cannot do better, but we watch the child anxiously whose +wet-nurse is a chemist's pipkin. A pair of substantial mammary glands +has the advantage over the two hemispheres of the most learned +Professor's brain, in the art of compounding a nutritious fluid for +infants. + +The bedside is always the true centre of medical teaching. Certain +branches must be taught in the lecture-room, and will necessarily involve +a good deal that is not directly useful to the future practitioner. But +the over ambitious and active student must not be led away by the +seduction of knowledge for its own sake from his principal pursuit. The +humble beginner, who is alarmed at the vast fields of knowledge opened to +him, may be encouraged by the assurance that with a very slender +provision of science, in distinction from practical skill, he may be a +useful and acceptable member of the profession to which the health of the +community is intrusted. + +To those who are not to engage in practice, the various pursuits of +science hardly require to be commended. Only they must not be +disappointed if they find many subjects treated in our courses as a +medical class requires, rather than as a scientific class would expect, +that is, with special limitations and constant reference to practical +ends. Fortunately they are within easy reach of the highest scientific +instruction. The business of a school like this is to make useful +working physicians, and to succeed in this it is almost as important not +to overcrowd the mind of the pupil with merely curious knowledge as it is +to store it with useful information. + +In this direction I have written my lecture, not to undervalue any form +of scientific labor in its place, an unworthy thought from which I hope I +need not defend myself,--but to discourage any undue inflation of the +scholastic programme, which even now asks more of the student than the +teacher is able to obtain from the great majority of those who present +themselves for examination. I wish to take a hint in education from the +Secretary of the Massachusetts Board of Agriculture, who regards the +cultivation of too much land as a great defect in our New England +farming. I hope that our Medical Institutions may never lay themselves +open to the kind of accusation Mr. Lowe brings against the English +Universities, when he says that their education is made up "of words that +few understand and most will shortly forget; of arts that can never be +used, if indeed they can even be learnt; of histories inapplicable to our +times; of languages dead and even mouldy; of grammatical rules that never +had living use and are only post mortem examinations; and of statements +fagoted with utter disregard of their comparative value." + +This general thought will be kept in view throughout my somewhat +discursive address, which will begin with an imaginary clinical lesson +from the lips of an historical personage, and close with the portrait +from real life of one who, both as teacher and practitioner, was long +loved and honored among us. If I somewhat overrun my hour, you must +pardon me, for I can say with Pascal that I have not had the time to make +my lecture shorter. + +In the year 1647, that good man John Eliot, commonly called the Apostle +Eliot, writing to Mr. Thomas Shepherd, the pious minister of Cambridge, +referring to the great need of medical instruction for the Indians, used +these words: + +"I have thought in my heart that it were a singular good work, if the +Lord would stirre up the hearts of some or other of his people in England +to give some maintenance toward some Schoole or Collegiate exercise this +way, wherein there should be Anatomies and other instructions that way, +and where there might be some recompence given to any that should bring +in any vegetable or other thing that is vertuous in the way of Physick. + +"There is another reason which moves my thought and desires this way, +namely that our young students in Physick may be trained up better then +they yet bee, who have onely theoreticall knowledge, and are forced to +fall to practise before ever they saw an Anatomy made, or duely trained +up in making experiments, for we never had but one Anatomy in the +countrey, which Mr. Giles Firman [Firmin] now in England, did make and +read upon very well, but no more of that now." + +Since the time of the Apostle Eliot the Lord has stirred up the hearts of +our people to the building of many Schools and Colleges where medicine is +taught in all its branches. Mr. Giles Firmin's "Anatomy" may be +considered the first ancestor of a long line of skeletons which have been +dangling and rattling in our lecture-rooms for more than a century. + +Teaching in New England in 1647 was a grave but simple matter. A single +person, combining in many cases, as in that of Mr. Giles Firmin, the +offices of physician and preacher, taught what he knew to a few disciples +whom he gathered about him. Of the making of that "Anatomy" on which my +first predecessor in the branch I teach "did read very well" we can know +nothing. The body of some poor wretch who had swung upon the gallows, +was probably conveyed by night to some lonely dwelling at the outskirts +of the village, and there by the light of flaring torches hastily +dissected by hands that trembled over the unwonted task. And ever and +anon the master turned to his book, as he laid bare the mysteries of the +hidden organs; to his precious Vesalius, it might be, or his figures +repeated in the multifarious volume of Ambroise Pare; to the Aldine +octavo in which Fallopius recorded his fresh observations; or that giant +folio of Spigelius just issued from the press of Amsterdam, in which +lovely ladies display their viscera with a coquettish grace implying that +it is rather a pleasure than otherwise to show the lace-like omentum, and +hold up their appendices epiploicae as if they were saying "these are our +jewels." + +His teaching of medicine was no doubt chiefly clinical, and received with +the same kind of faith as that which accepted his words from the pulpit. +His notions of disease were based on what he had observed, seen always in +the light of the traditional doctrines in which he was bred. His +discourse savored of the weighty doctrines of Hippocrates, diluted by the +subtle speculations of Galen, reinforced by the curious comments of the +Arabian schoolmen as they were conveyed in the mellifluous language of +Fernelius, blended, it may be, with something of the lofty mysticism of +Van Helmont, and perhaps stealing a flavor of that earlier form of +Homoeopathy which had lately come to light in Sir Kenelm Digby's +"Discourse concerning the Cure of Wounds by the Sympathetic Powder." + +His Pathology was mythology. A malformed foetus, as the readers of +Winthrop's Journal may remember, was enough to scare the colonists from +their propriety, and suggest the gravest fears of portended disaster. +The student of the seventeenth century opened his Licetus and saw figures +of a lion with the head of a woman, and a man with the head of an +elephant. He had offered to his gaze, as born of a human mother, the +effigy of a winged cherub, a pterocephalous specimen, which our Professor +of Pathological Anatomy would hardly know whether to treat with the +reverence due to its celestial aspect, or to imprison in one of his +immortalizing jars of alcohol. + +His pharmacopoeia consisted mainly of simples, such as the venerable +"Herball" of Gerard describes and figures in abounding affluence. St. +John's wort and Clown's All-heal, with Spurge and Fennel, Saffron and +Parsley, Elder and Snake-root, with opium in some form, and roasted +rhubarb and the Four Great Cold Seeds, and the two Resins, of which it +used to be said that whatever the Tacamahaca has not cured, the Caranna +will, with the more familiar Scammony and Jalap and Black Hellebore, made +up a good part of his probable list of remedies. He would have ordered +Iron now and then, and possibly an occasional dose of Antimony. He would +perhaps have had a rheumatic patient wrapped in the skin of a wolf or a +wild cat, and in case of a malignant fever with "purples" or petechiae, +or of an obstinate king's evil, he might have prescribed a certain black +powder, which had been made by calcining toads in an earthen pot; a +choice remedy, taken internally, or applied to any outward grief. + +Except for the toad-powder and the peremptory drastics, one might have +borne up against this herb doctoring as well as against some more modern +styles of medication. Barbeyrac and his scholar Sydenham had not yet +cleansed the Pharmacopoeia of its perilous stuff, but there is no doubt +that the more sensible physicians of that day knew well enough that a +good honest herb-tea which amused the patient and his nurses was all that +was required to carry him through all common disorders. + +The student soon learned the physiognomy of disease by going about with +his master; fevers, pleurisies, asthmas, dropsies, fluxes, small-pox, +sore-throats, measles, consumptions. He saw what was done for them. He +put up the medicines, gathered the herbs, and so learned something of +materia medico and botany. He learned these few things easily and well, +for he could give his whole attention to them. Chirurgery was a separate +specialty. Women in child-birth were cared for by midwives. There was +no chemistry deserving the name to require his study. He did not learn a +great deal, perhaps, but what he did learn was his business, namely, how +to take care of sick people. + +Let me give you a picture of the old=fashioned way of instruction, by +carrying you with me in imagination in the company of worthy Master Giles +Firmin as he makes his round of visits among the good folk of Ipswich, +followed by his one student, who shall answer to the scriptural name of +Luke. It will not be for entertainment chiefly, but to illustrate the +one mode of teaching which can never be superseded, and which, I venture +to say, is more important than all the rest put together. The student is +a green hand, as you will perceive. + +In the first dwelling they come to, a stout fellow is bellowing with +colic. + +"He will die, Master, of a surety, methinks," says the timid youth in a +whisper. + +"Nay, Luke," the Master answers, "'t is but a dry belly-ache. Didst thou +not mark that he stayed his roaring when I did press hard over the lesser +bowels? Note that he hath not the pulse of them with fevers, and by what +Dorcas telleth me there hath been no long shutting up of the vice +naturales. We will steep certain comforting herbs which I will shew +thee, and put them in a bag and lay them on his belly. Likewise he shall +have my cordial julep with a portion of this confection which we do call +Theriaca Andromachi, which hath juice of poppy in it, and is a great +stayer of anguish. This fellow is at his prayers to-day, but I warrant +thee he shall be swearing with the best of them to-morrow." + +They jog along the bridle-path on their horses until they come to another +lowly dwelling. They sit a while with a delicate looking girl in whom +the ingenuous youth naturally takes a special interest. The good +physician talks cheerfully with her, asks her a few questions. Then to +her mother: "Good-wife, Margaret hath somewhat profited, as she telleth, +by the goat's milk she hath taken night and morning. Do thou pluck a +maniple--that is an handful--of the plant called Maidenhair, and make a +syrup therewith as I have shewed thee. Let her take a cup full of the +same, fasting, before she sleepeth, also before she riseth from her bed." +And so they leave the house. + +"What thinkest thou, Luke, of the maid we have been visiting?" "She +seemeth not much ailing, Master, according to my poor judgment. For she +did say she was better. And she had a red cheek and a bright eye, and +she spake of being soon able to walk unto the meeting, and did seem +greatly hopeful, but spare of flesh, methought, and her voice something +hoarse, as of one that hath a defluxion, with some small coughing from a +cold, as she did say. Speak I not truly, Master, that she will be well +speedily?" + +"Yea, Luke, I do think she shall be well, and mayhap speedily. But it is +not here with us she shall be well. For that redness of the cheek is but +the sign of the fever which, after the Grecians, we do call the hectical; +and that shining of the eyes is but a sickly glazing, and they which do +every day get better and likewise thinner and weaker shall find that way +leadeth to the church-yard gate. This is the malady which the ancients +did call tubes, or the wasting disease, and some do name the consumption. +A disease whereof most that fall ailing do perish. This Margaret is not +long for earth--but she knoweth it not, and still hopeth." + +"Why, then, Master, didst thou give her of thy medicine, seeing that her +ail is unto death?" + +"Thou shalt learn, boy, that they which are sick must have somewhat +wherewith to busy their thoughts. There be some who do give these tabid +or consumptives a certain posset made with lime-water and anise and +liquorice and raisins of the sun, and there be other some who do give the +juice of craw-fishes boiled in barley-water with chicken-broth, but these +be toys, as I do think, and ye shall find as good virtue, nay better, in +this syrup of the simple called Maidenhair." + +Something after this manner might Master Giles Firmin have delivered his +clinical instructions. Somewhat in this way, a century and a half later, +another New England physician, Dr. Edward Augustus Holyoke, taught a +young man who came to study with him, a very diligent and intelligent +youth, James Jackson by name, the same whose portrait in his advanced +years hangs upon this wall, long the honored Professor of Theory and +Practice in this Institution, of whom I shall say something in this +Lecture. Our venerated Teacher studied assiduously afterwards in the +great London Hospitals, but I think he used to quote his "old Master" ten +times where he quoted Mr. Cline or Dr. Woodville once. + +When I compare this direct transfer of the practical experience of a wise +man into the mind of a student,--every fact one that he can use in the +battle of life and death,--with the far off, unserviceable "scientific" +truths that I and some others are in the habit of teaching, I cannot help +asking myself whether, if we concede that our forefathers taught too +little, there is not--a possibility that we may sometimes attempt to +teach too much. I almost blush when I think of myself as describing the +eight several facets on two slender processes of the palate bone, or the +seven little twigs that branch off from the minute tympanic nerve, and I +wonder whether my excellent colleague feels in the same way when he +pictures himself as giving the constitution of neurin, which as he and I +know very well is that of the hydrate of trimethyle-oxethyle-ammonium, or +the formula for the production of alloxan, which, though none but the +Professors and older students can be expected to remember it, is C10 H4 +N4 O6+ 2HO, NO5=C8 H4 N2 O10+2CO2+N2+NH4 O, NO5. + +I can bear the voice of some rough iconoclast addressing the Anatomist +and the Chemist in tones of contemptuous indignation: "What is this stuff +with which you are cramming the brains of young men who are to hold the +lives of the community in their hands? Here is a man fallen in a fit; +you can tell me all about the eight surfaces of the two processes of the +palate bone, but you have not had the sense to loosen that man's +neck-cloth, and the old women are all calling you a fool? Here is a +fellow that has just swallowed poison. I want something to turn his +stomach inside out at the shortest notice. Oh, you have forgotten the +dose of the sulphate of zinc, but you remember the formula for the +production of alloxan!" + +"Look you, Master Doctor,--if I go to a carpenter to come and stop a leak +in my roof that is flooding the house, do you suppose I care whether he +is a botanist or not? Cannot a man work in wood without knowing all +about endogens and exogens, or must he attend Professor Gray's Lectures +before he can be trusted to make a box-trap? If my horse casts a shoe, +do you think I will not trust a blacksmith to shoe him until I have made +sure that he is sound on the distinction between the sesquioxide and the +protosesquioxide of iron?" + +--But my scientific labor is to lead to useful results by and by, in the +next generation, or in some possible remote future.-- + +"Diavolo!" as your Dr. Rabelais has it,--answers the iconoclast,--"what +is that to me and my colic, to me and my strangury? I pay the Captain of +the Cunard steamship to carry me quickly and safely to Liverpool, not to +make a chart of the Atlantic for after voyagers! If Professor Peirce +undertakes to pilot me into Boston Harbor and runs me on Cohasset rocks, +what answer is it to tell me that he is Superintendent of the Coast +Survey? No, Sir! I want a plain man in a pea-jacket and a sou'wester, +who knows the channel of Boston Harbor, and the rocks of Boston Harbor, +and the distinguished Professor is quite of my mind as to the matter, for +I took the pains to ask him before I ventured to use his name in the way +of illustration." + +I do not know how the remarks of the image-breaker may strike others, but +I feel that they put me on my defence with regard to much of my teaching. +Some years ago I ventured to show in an introductory Lecture how very +small a proportion of the anatomical facts taught in a regular course, as +delivered by myself and others, had any practical bearing whatever on the +treatment of disease. How can I, how can any medical teacher justify +himself in teaching anything that is not like to be of practical use to a +class of young men who are to hold in their hands the balance in which +life and death, ease and anguish, happiness and wretchedness are to be +daily weighed? + +I hope we are not all wrong. Oftentimes in finding how sadly ignorant of +really essential and vital facts and rules were some of those whom we had +been larding with the choicest scraps of science, I have doubted whether +the old one-man system of teaching, when the one man was of the right +sort, did not turn out better working physicians than our more elaborate +method. The best practitioner I ever knew was mainly shaped to +excellence in that way. I can understand perfectly the regrets of my +friend Dr. John Brown of Edinburgh, for the good that was lost with the +old apprenticeship system. I understand as well Dr. Latham's fear "that +many men of the best abilities and good education will be deterred from +prosecuting physic as a profession, in consequence of the necessity +indiscriminately laid upon all for impossible attainments." + +I feel therefore impelled to say a very few words in defence of that +system of teaching adopted in our Colleges, by which we wish to +supplement and complete the instruction given by private individuals or +by what are often called Summer Schools. + +The reason why we teach so much that is not practical and in itself +useful, is because we find that the easiest way of teaching what is +practical and useful. If we could in any way eliminate all that would +help a man to deal successfully with disease, and teach it by itself so +that it should be as tenaciously rooted in the memory, as easily summoned +when wanted, as fertile in suggestion of related facts, as satisfactory +to the peremptory demands of the intelligence as if taught in its +scientific connections, I think it would be our duty so to teach the +momentous truths of medicine, and to regard all useless additions as an +intrusion on the time which should be otherwise occupied. + +But we cannot successfully eliminate and teach by itself that which is +purely practical. The easiest and surest why of acquiring facts is to +learn them in groups, in systems, and systematized knowledge is science. +You can very often carry two facts fastened together more easily than one +by itself, as a housemaid can carry two pails of water with a hoop more +easily than one without it. You can remember a man's face, made up of +many features, better than you can his nose or his mouth or his eye-brow. +Scores of proverbs show you that you can remember two lines that rhyme +better than one without the jingle. The ancients, who knew the laws of +memory, grouped the seven cities that contended for the honor of being +Homer's birthplace in a line thus given by Aulus Gellius: + +Smurna, Rodos, Colophon, Salamin, Ios, Argos, Athenai. + +I remember, in the earlier political days of Martin Van Buren, that +Colonel Stone, of the "New York Commercial," or one of his +correspondents, said that six towns of New York would claim in the same +way to have been the birth-place of the "Little Magician," as he was then +called; and thus he gave their names, any one of which I should long ago +have forgotten, but which as a group have stuck tight in my memory from +that day to this; + +Catskill, Saugerties, Redhook, Kinderhook, Scaghticoke, Schodac. + +If the memory gains so much by mere rhythmical association, how much more +will it gain when isolated facts are brought together under laws and +principles, when organs are examined in their natural connections, when +structure is coupled with function, and healthy and diseased action are +studied as they pass one into the other! Systematic, or scientific study +is invaluable as supplying a natural kind of mnemonics, if for nothing +else. You cannot properly learn the facts you want from Anatomy and +Chemistry in any way so easily as by taking them in their regular order, +with other allied facts, only there must be common sense exercised in +leaving out a great deal which belongs to each of the two branches as +pure science. The dullest of teachers is the one who does not know what +to omit. + +The larger aim of scientific training is to furnish you with principles +to which you will be able to refer isolated facts, and so bring these +within the range of recorded experience. See what the "London Times" +said about the three Germans who cracked open John Bull Chatwood's +strong-box at the Fair the other day, while the three Englishmen hammered +away in vain at Brother Jonathan Herring's. The Englishmen represented +brute force. The Germans had been trained to appreciate principle. The +Englishman "knows his business by rote and rule of thumb"--science, which +would "teach him to do in an hour what has hitherto occupied him two +hours," "is in a manner forbidden to him." To this cause the "Times" +attributes the falling off of English workmen in comparison with those of +the Continent. + +Granting all this, we must not expect too much from "science" as +distinguished from common experience. There are ten thousand +experimenters without special apparatus for every one in the laboratory. +Accident is the great chemist and toxicologist. Battle is the great +vivisector. Hunger has instituted researches on food such as no Liebig, +no Academic Commission has ever recorded. + +Medicine, sometimes impertinently, often ignorantly, often carelessly +called "allopathy," appropriates everything from every source that can be +of the slightest use to anybody who is ailing in any way, or like to be +ailing from any cause. It learned from a monk how to use antimony, from +a Jesuit how to cure agues, from a friar how to cut for stone, from a +soldier how to treat gout, from a sailor how to keep off scurvy, from a +postmaster how to sound the Eustachian tube, from a dairy-maid how to +prevent small-pox, and from an old market-woman how to catch the +itch-insect. It borrowed acupuncture and the moxa from the Japanese +heathen, and was taught the use of lobelia by the American savage. It +stands ready to-day to accept anything from any theorist, from any +empiric who can make out a good case for his discovery or his remedy. +"Science" is one of its benefactors, but only one, out of many. Ask the +wisest practising physician you know, what branches of science help him +habitually, and what amount of knowledge relating to each branch he +requires for his professional duties. He will tell you that scientific +training has a value independent of all the special knowledge acquired. +He will tell you that many facts are explained by studying them in the +wider range of related facts to which they belong. He will gratefully +recognize that the anatomist has furnished him with indispensable data, +that the physiologist has sometimes put him on the track of new modes of +treatment, that the chemist has isolated the active principles of his +medicines, has taught him how to combine them, has from time to time +offered him new remedial agencies, and so of others of his allies. But he +will also tell you, if I am not mistaken, that his own branch of +knowledge is so extensive and so perplexing that he must accept most of +his facts ready made at their hands. He will own to you that in the +struggle for life which goes on day and night in our thoughts as in the +outside world of nature, much that he learned under the name of science +has died out, and that simple homely experience has largely taken the +place of that scholastic knowledge to which he and perhaps some of his +instructors once attached a paremount importance. + +This, then, is my view of scientific training as conducted in courses +such as you are entering on. Up to a certain point I believe in set +Lectures as excellent adjuncts to what is far more important, practical +instruction at the bedside, in the operating room, and under the eye of +the Demonstrator. But I am so far from wishing these courses extended, +that I think some of them--suppose I say my own--would almost bear +curtailing. Do you want me to describe more branches of the sciatic and +crural nerves? I can take Fischer's plates, and lecturing on that scale +fill up my whole course and not finish the nerves alone. We must stop +somewhere, and for my own part I think the scholastic exercises of our +colleges have already claimed their full share of the student's time +without our seeking to extend them. + +I trust I have vindicated the apparent inconsequence of teaching young +students a good deal that seems at first sight profitless, but which +helps them to learn and retain what is profitable. But this is an +inquisitive age, and if we insist on piling up beyond a certain height +knowledge which is in itself mere trash and lumber to a man whose life is +to be one long fight with death and disease, there will be some sharp +questions asked by and by, and our quick-witted people will perhaps find +they can get along as well without the professor's cap as without the +bishop's mitre and the monarch's crown. + +I myself have nothing to do with clinical teaching. Yet I do not +hesitate to say it is more essential than all the rest put together, so +far as the ordinary practice of medicine is concerned; and this is by far +the most important thing to be learned, because it deals with so many +more lives than any other branch of the profession. So of personal +instruction, such as we give and others give in the interval of lectures, +much of it at the bedside, some of it in the laboratory, some in the +microscope-room, some in the recitation-room, I think it has many +advantages of its own over the winter course, and I do not wish to see it +shortened for the sake of prolonging what seems to me long enough +already. + +If I am jealous of the tendency to expand the time given to the +acquisition of curious knowledge, at the expense of the plain +old-fashioned bedside teachings, I only share the feeling which Sydenham +expressed two hundred years ago, using an image I have already borrowed. +"He would be no honest and successful pilot who was to apply himself with +less industry to avoid rocks and sands and bring his vessel safely home, +than to search into the causes of the ebbing and flowing of the sea, +which, though very well for a philosopher, is foreign to him whose +business it is to secure the ship. So neither will a physician, whose +province it is to cure diseases, be able to do so, though he be a person +of great genius, who bestows less time on the hidden and intricate method +of nature, and adapting his means thereto, than on curious and subtle +speculation." + +"Medicine is my wife and Science is my mistress," said Dr. Rush. I do +not think that the breach of the seventh commandment can be shown to have +been of advantage to the legitimate owner of his affections. Read what +Dr. Elisha Bartlett says of him as a practitioner, or ask one of our own +honored ex-professors, who studied under him, whether Dr. Rush had ever +learned the meaning of that saying of Lord Bacon, that man is the +minister and interpreter of Nature, or whether he did not speak +habitually of Nature as an intruder in the sick room, from which his art +was to expel her as an incompetent and a meddler. + +All a man's powers are not too much for such a profession as Medicine. +"He is a learned man," said old Parson Emmons of Franklin, "who +understands one subject, and he is a very learned man who understands two +subjects." Schonbein says he has been studying oxygen for thirty years. +Mitscherlich said it took fourteen years to establish a new fact in +chemistry. Aubrey says of Harvey, the discoverer of the circulation, +that "though all his profession would allow him to be an excellent +anatomist, I have never heard of any who admired his therapeutic way." +My learned and excellent friend before referred to, Dr. Brown of +Edinburgh, from whose very lively and sensible Essay, "Locke and +Sydenham," I have borrowed several of my citations, contrasts Sir Charles +Bell, the discoverer, the man of science, with Dr. Abercrombie, the +master in the diagnosis and treatment of disease. It is through one of +the rarest of combinations that we have in our Faculty a teacher on whom +the scientific mantle of Bell has fallen, and who yet stands preeminent +in the practical treatment of the class of diseases which his inventive +and ardent experimental genius has illustrated. M. Brown-Sequard's +example is as, eloquent as his teaching in proof of the advantages of +well directed scientific investigation. But those who emulate his +success at once as a discoverer and a practitioner must be content like +him to limit their field of practice. The highest genius cannot afford +in our time to forget the ancient precept, Divide et impera. + +"I suppose I must go and earn this guinea," said a medical man who was +sent for while he was dissecting an animal. I should not have cared to +be his patient. His dissection would do me no good, and his thoughts +would be too much upon it. I want a whole man for my doctor, not a half +one. I would have sent for a humbler practitioner, who would have given +himself entirely to me, and told the other--who was no less a man than +John Hunter--to go on and finish the dissection of his tiger. + +Sydenham's "Read Don Quixote" should be addressed not to the student, but +to the Professor of today. Aimed at him it means, "Do not be too +learned." + +Do not think you are going to lecture to picked young men who are +training themselves to be scientific discoverers. They are of fair +average capacity, and they are going to be working doctors. + +These young men are to have some very serious vital facts to deal with. +I will mention a few of them. + +Every other resident adult you meet in these streets is or will be more +or less tuberculous. This is not an extravagant estimate, as very nearly +one third of the deaths of adults in Boston last year were from phthisis. +If the relative number is less in our other northern cities, it is +probably in a great measure because they are more unhealthy; that is, +they have as much, or nearly as much, consumption, but they have more +fevers or other fatal diseases. + +These heavy-eyed men with the alcoholized brains, these pallid youths +with the nicotized optic ganglia and thinking-marrows brown as their own +meerschaums, of whom you meet too many,--will ask all your wisdom to deal +with their poisoned nerves and their enfeebled wills. + +Nearly seventeen hundred children under five years of age died last year +in this city. A poor human article, no doubt, in many cases, still, +worth an attempt to save them, especially when we remember the effect of +Dr. Clarke's suggestion at the Dublin Hospital, by which some twenty-five +or thirty thousand children's lives have probably been saved in a single +city. + +Again, the complaint is often heard that the native population is not +increasing so rapidly as in former generations. The breeding and nursing +period of American women is one of peculiar delicacy and frequent +infirmity. Many of them must require a considerable interval between the +reproductive efforts, to repair damages and regain strength. This +matter is not to be decided by an appeal to unschooled nature. It is the +same question as that of the deformed pelvis,--one of degree. The facts +of mal-vitalization are as much to be attended to as those of +mal-formation. If the woman with a twisted pelvis is to be considered an +exempt, the woman with a defective organization should be recognized as +belonging to the invalid corps. We shudder to hear what is alleged as to +the prevalence of criminal practices; if back of these there can be shown +organic incapacity or overtaxing of too limited powers, the facts belong +to the province of the practical physician, as well as of the moralist +and the legislator, and require his gravest consideration. + +Take the important question of bleeding. Is venesection done with +forever? Six years ago it was said here in an introductory Lecture that +it would doubtless come back again sooner or later. A fortnight ago I +found myself in the cars with one of the most sensible and esteemed +practitioners in New England. He took out his wallet and showed me two +lancets, which he carried with him; he had never given up their use. +This is a point you will have to consider. + +Or, to mention one out of many questionable remedies, shall you give +Veratrum Viride in fevers and inflammations? It makes the pulse slower +in these affections. Then the presumption would naturally be that it +does harm. The caution with reference to it on this ground was long ago +recorded in the Lecture above referred to. See what Dr. John Hughes +Bennett says of it in the recent edition of his work on Medicine. +Nothing but the most careful clinical experience can settle this and such +points of treatment. + +These are all practical questions--questions of life and death, and every +day will be full of just such questions. Take the problem of climate. A +patient comes to you with asthma and wants to know where he can breathe; +another comes to you with phthisis and wants to know where he can live. +What boy's play is nine tenths of all that is taught in many a +pretentious course of lectures, compared with what an accurate and +extensive knowledge of the advantages and disadvantages of different +residences in these and other complaints would be to a practising +physician. + +I saw the other day a gentleman living in Canada, who had spent seven +successive winters in Egypt, with the entire relief of certain obscure +thoracic symptoms which troubled him while at home. I saw, two months +ago, another gentleman from Minnesota, an observer and a man of sense, +who considered that State as the great sanatorium for all pulmonary +complaints. If half our grown population are or will be more or less +tuberculous, the question of colonizing Florida assumes a new aspect. +Even within the borders of our own State, the very interesting researches +of Dr. Bowditch show that there is a great variation in the amount of +tuberculous disease in different towns, apparently connected with local +conditions. The hygienic map of a State is quite as valuable as its +geological map, and it is the business of every practising physician to +know it thoroughly. They understand this in England, and send a patient +with a dry irritating cough to Torquay or Penzance, while they send +another with relaxed bronchial membranes to Clifton or Brighton. Here is +another great field for practical study. + +So as to the all-important question of diet. "Of all the means of cure +at our command," says Dr. Bennett, "a regulation of the quantity and +quality of the diet is by far the most powerful." Dr. MacCormac would +perhaps except the air we breathe, for he thinks that impure air, +especially in sleeping rooms, is the great cause of tubercle. It is +sufficiently proved that the American,--the New Englander,--the +Bostonian, can breed strong and sound children, generation after +generation,--nay, I have shown by the record of a particular family that +vital losses may be retrieved, and a feeble race grow to lusty vigor in +this very climate and locality. Is not the question why our young men +and women so often break down, and how they can be kept from breaking +down, far more important for physicians to settle than whether there is +one cranial vertebra, or whether there are four, or none? + +--But I have a taste for the homologies, I want to go deeply into the +subject of embryology, I want to analyze the protonihilates precipitated +from pigeon's milk by the action of the lunar spectrum,--shall I not +follow my star,--shall I not obey my instinct,--shall I not give myself +to the lofty pursuits of science for its own sake? + +Certainly you may, if you like. But take down your sign, or never put it +up. That is the way Dr. Owen and Dr. Huxley, Dr. Agassiz and Dr. +Jeffries Wyman, Dr. Gray and Dr. Charles T. Jackson settled the +difficulty. We all admire the achievements of this band of distinguished +doctors who do not practise. But we say of their work and of all pure +science, as the French officer said of the charge of the six hundred at +Balaclava, "C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre,"--it is very +splendid, but it is not a practising doctor's business. His patient has +a right to the cream of his life and not merely to the thin milk that is +left after "science" has skimmed it off. The best a physician can give +is never too good for the patient. + +It is often a disadvantage to a young practitioner to be known for any +accomplishment outside of his profession. Haller lost his election as +Physician to the Hospital in his native city of Berne, principally on the +ground that he was a poet. In his later years the physician may venture +more boldly. Astruc was sixty-nine years old when he published his +"Conjectures," the first attempt, we are told, to decide the authorship +of the Pentateuch showing anything like a discerning criticism. Sir +Benjamin Brodie was seventy years old before he left his physiological +and surgical studies to indulge in psychological speculations. The +period of pupilage will be busy enough in acquiring the knowledge needed, +and the season of active practice will leave little leisure for any but +professional studies. + +Dr. Graves of Dublin, one of the first clinical teachers of our time, +always insisted on his students' beginning at once to visit the hospital. +At the bedside the student must learn to treat disease, and just as +certainly as we spin out and multiply our academic prelections we shall +work in more and more stuffing, more and more rubbish, more and more +irrelevant, useless detail which the student will get rid of just as soon +as he leaves us. Then the next thing will be a new organization, with an +examining board of first-rate practical men, who will ask the candidate +questions that mean business,--who will make him operate if he is to be a +surgeon, and try him at the bedside if he is to be a physician,--and not +puzzle him with scientific conundrums which not more than one of the +questioners could answer himself or ever heard of since he graduated. + +Or these women who are hammering at the gates on which is written "No +admittance for the mothers of mankind," will by and by organize an +institution, which starting from that skilful kind of nursing which +Florence Nightingale taught so well, will work backwards through +anodynes, palliatives, curatives, preventives, until with little show of +science it imparts most of what is most valuable in those branches of the +healing art it professes to teach. When that time comes, the fitness of +women for certain medical duties, which Hecquet advocated in 1708, which +Douglas maintained in 1736, which Dr. John Ware, long the honored +Professor of Theory and Practice in this Institution, upheld within our +own recollection in the face of his own recorded opinion to the contrary, +will very possibly be recognized. + +My advice to every teacher less experienced than myself would be, +therefore: Do not fret over the details you have to omit; you probably +teach altogether too many as it is. Individuals may learn a thing with +once hearing it, but the only way of teaching a whole class is by +enormous repetition, representation, and illustration in all possible +forms. Now and then you will have a young man on your benches like the +late Waldo Burnett,--not very often, if you lecture half a century. You +cannot pretend to lecture chiefly for men like that,--a Mississippi raft +might as well take an ocean-steamer in tow. To meet his wants you would +have to leave the rest of your class behind and that you must not do. +President Allen of Jefferson College says that his instruction has been +successful in proportion as it has been elementary. It may be a +humiliating statement, but it is one which I have found true in my own +experience. + +To the student I would say, that however plain and simple may be our +teaching, he must expect to forget much which he follows intelligently in +the lecture-room. But it is not the same as if he had never learned it. +A man must get a thing before he can forget it. There is a great world +of ideas we cannot voluntarily recall,--they are outside the limits of +the will. But they sway our conscious thought as the unseen planets +influence the movements of those within the sphere of vision. No man +knows how much he knows,--how many ideas he has,--any more than he knows +how many blood-globules roll in his veins. Sometimes accident brings +back here and there one, but the mind is full of irrevocable remembrances +and unthinkable thoughts, which take a part in all its judgments as +indestructible forces. Some of you must feel your scientific +deficiencies painfully after your best efforts. But every one can +acquire what is most essential. A man of very moderate ability may be a +good physician, if he devotes himself faithfully to the work. More than +this, a positively dull man, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, +sometimes makes a safer practitioner than one who has, we will say, five +per cent. more brains than his average neighbor, but who thinks it is +fifty per cent. more. Skulls belonging to this last variety of the human +race are more common, I may remark, than specimens like the Neanderthal +cranium, a cast of which you will find on the table in the Museum. + +Whether the average talent be high or low, the Colleges of the land must +make the best commodity they can out of such material as the country and +the cities furnish them. The community must have Doctors as it must have +bread. It uses up its Doctors just as it wears out its shoes, and +requires new ones. All the bread need not be French rolls, all the shoes +need not be patent leather ones; but the bread must be something that can +be eaten, and the shoes must be something that can be worn. Life must +somehow find food for the two forces that rub everything to pieces, or +burn it to ashes,--friction and oxygen. Doctors are oxydable products, +and the schools must keep furnishing new ones as the old ones turn into +oxyds; some of first-rate quality that burn with a great light, some of a +lower grade of brilliancy, some honestly, unmistakably, by the grace of +God, of moderate gifts, or in simpler phrase, dull. + +The public will give every honest and reasonably competent worker in the +healing art a hearty welcome. It is on the whole very loyal to the +Medical Profession. Three successive years have borne witness to the +feeling with which this Institution, representing it in its educational +aspect, is regarded by those who are themselves most honored and +esteemed. The great Master of Natural Science bade the last year's class +farewell in our behalf, in those accents which delight every audience. +The Head of our ancient University honored us in the same way in the +preceding season. And how can we forget that other occasion when the +Chief Magistrate of the Commonwealth, that noble citizen whom we have +just lost, large-souled, sweet-natured, always ready for every kind +office, came among us at our bidding, and talked to us of our duties in +words as full of wisdom as his heart was of goodness? + +You have not much to fear, I think, from the fancy practitioners. The +vulgar quackeries drop off, atrophied, one after another. Homoeopathy has +long been encysted, and is carried on the body medical as quietly as an +old wen. Every year gives you a more reasoning and reasonable people to +deal with. See how it is in Literature. The dynasty of British +dogmatists, after lasting a hundred years and more, is on its last legs. +Thomas Carlyle, third in the line of descent, finds an audience very +different from those which listened to the silver speech of Samuel Taylor +Coleridge and the sonorous phrases of Samuel Johnson. We read him, we +smile at his clotted English, his "swarmery" and other picturesque +expressions, but we lay down his tirade as we do one of Dr. Cumming's +interpretations of prophecy, which tells us that the world is coming to +an end next week or next month, if the weather permits,--not +otherwise,--feeling very sure that the weather will be unfavorable. + +It is the same common-sense public you will appeal to. The less +pretension you make, the better they will like you in the long run. I +hope we shall make everything as plain and as simple to you as we can. I +would never use a long word, even, where a short one would answer the +purpose. I know there are professors in this country who "ligate" +arteries. Other surgeons only tie them, and it stops the bleeding just +as well. It is the familiarity and simplicity of bedside instruction +which makes it so pleasant as well as so profitable. A good clinical +teacher is himself a Medical School. We need not wonder that our young +men are beginning to announce themselves not only as graduates of this or +that College, but also as pupils of some one distinguished master. + +I wish to close this Lecture, if you will allow me a few moments longer, +with a brief sketch of an instructor and practitioner whose character was +as nearly a model one in both capacities as I can find anywhere recorded. + +Dr. JAMES JACKSON, Professor of the Theory and Practice of Medicine in +this University from 1812 to 1846, and whose name has been since retained +on our rolls as Professor Emeritus, died on the 27th of August last, in +the ninetieth year of his age. He studied his profession, as I have +already mentioned, with Dr. Holyoke of Salem, one of the few physicians +who have borne witness to their knowledge of the laws of life by living +to complete their hundredth year. I think the student took his Old +Master, as he always loved to call him, as his model; each was worthy of +the other, and both were bright examples to all who come after them. + +I remember that in the sermon preached by Dr. Grazer after Dr. Holyoke's +death, one of the points most insisted upon as characteristic of that +wise and good old man was the perfect balance of all his faculties. The +same harmonious adjustment of powers, the same symmetrical arrangement of +life, the same complete fulfilment of every day's duties, without haste +and without needless delay, which characterized the master, equally +distinguished the scholar. A glance at the life of our own Old Master, +if I can do any justice at all to his excellences, will give you +something to carry away from this hour's meeting not unworthy to be +remembered. + +From December, 1797, to October, 1799, he remained with Dr. Holyoke as a +student, a period which he has spoken of as a most interesting and most +gratifying part of his life. After this he passed eight months in +London, and on his return, in October, 1800, he began business in Boston. + +He had followed Mr. Cline, as I have mentioned, and was competent to +practise Surgery. But he found Dr. John Collins Warren had already +occupied the ground which at that day hardly called for more than one +leading practitioner, and wisely chose the Medical branch of the +profession. He had only himself to rely upon, but he had confidence in +his prospects, conscious, doubtless, of his own powers, knowing his own +industry and determination, and being of an eminently cheerful and +hopeful disposition. No better proof of his spirit can be given than +that, just a year from the time when he began to practise as a physician, +he took that eventful step which in such a man implies that he sees his +way clear to a position; he married a lady blessed with many gifts, but +not bringing him a fortune to paralyze his industry. + +He had not miscalculated his chances in life. He very soon rose into a +good practice, and began the founding of that reputation which grew with +his years, until he stood by general consent at the head of his chosen +branch of the profession, to say the least, in this city and in all this +region of country. His skill and wisdom were the last tribunal to which +the sick and suffering could appeal. The community trusted and loved +him, the profession recognized him as the noblest type of the physician. +The young men whom he had taught wandered through foreign hospitals; +where they learned many things that were valuable, and many that were +curious; but as they grew older and began to think more of their ability +to help the sick than their power of talking about phenomena, they began +to look back to the teaching of Dr. Jackson, as he, after his London +experience, looked back to that of Dr. Holyoke. And so it came to be at +last that the bare mention of his name in any of our medical assemblies +would call forth such a tribute of affectionate regard as is only yielded +to age when it brings with it the record of a life spent in well doing. + +No accident ever carries a man to eminence such as his in the medical +profession. He who looks for it must want it earnestly and work for it +vigorously; Nature must have qualified him in many ways, and education +must have equipped him with various knowledge, or his reputation will +evaporate before it reaches the noon-day blaze of fame. How did Dr. +Jackson gain the position which all conceded to him? In the answer to +this question some among you may find a key that shall unlock the gate +opening on that fair field of the future of which all dream but which not +all will ever reach. + +First of all, he truly loved his profession. He had no intellectual +ambitions outside of it, literary, scientific or political. To him it +was occupation enough to apply at the bedside the best of all that he +knew for the good of his patient; to protect the community against the +inroads of pestilence; to teach the young all that he himself had been +taught, with all that his own experience had added; to leave on record +some of the most important results of his long observation. + +With his patients he was so perfect at all points that it is hard to +overpraise him. I have seen many noted British and French and American +practitioners, but I never saw the man so altogether admirable at the +bedside of the sick as Dr. James Jackson. His smile was itself a remedy +better than the potable gold and the dissolved pearls that comforted the +praecordia of mediaeval monarchs. Did a patient, alarmed without cause, +need encouragement, it carried the sunshine of hope into his heart and +put all his whims to flight, as David's harp cleared the haunted chamber +of the sullen king. Had the hour come, not for encouragement, but for +sympathy, his face, his voice, his manner all showed it, because his +heart felt it. So gentle was he, so thoughtful, so calm, so absorbed in +the case before him, not to turn round and look for a tribute to his +sagacity, not to bolster himself in a favorite theory, but to find out +all he could, and to weigh gravely and cautiously all that he found, that +to follow him in his morning visit was not only to take a lesson in the +healing art, it was learning how to learn, how to move, how to look, how +to feel, if that can be learned. To visit with Dr. Jackson was a medical +education. + +He was very firm, with all his kindness. He would have the truth about +his patients. The nurses found it out; and the shrewder ones never +ventured to tell him anything but a straight story. A clinical dialogue +between Dr. Jackson and Miss Rebecca Taylor, sometime nurse in the +Massachusetts General Hospital, a mistress in her calling, was as good +questioning and answering as one would be like to hear outside of the +court-room. + +Of his practice you can form an opinion from his book called "Letters to +a Young Physician." Like all sensible men from the days of Hippocrates +to the present, he knew that diet and regimen were more important than +any drug or than all drugs put together. Witness his treatment of +phthisis and of epilepsy. He retained, however, more confidence in some +remedial agents than most of the younger generation would concede to +them. Yet his materia medica was a simple one. + +"When I first went to live with Dr. Holyoke," he says, "in 1797, showing +me his shop, he said, 'There seems to you to be a great variety of +medicines here, and that it will take you long to get acquainted with +them, but most of them are unimportant. There are four which are equal +to all the rest, namely, Mercury, Antimony, Bark and Opium.'" And Dr. +Jackson adds, "I can only say of his practice, the longer I have lived, I +have thought better and better of it." When he thought it necessary to +give medicine, he gave it in earnest. He hated half-practice--giving a +little of this or that, so as to be able to say that one had done +something, in case a consultation was held, or a still more ominous event +occurred. He would give opium, for instance, as boldly as the late Dr. +Fisher of Beverly, but he followed the aphorism of the Father of +Medicine, and kept extreme remedies for extreme cases. + +When it came to the "non-naturals," as he would sometimes call them, +after the old physicians,--namely, air, meat and drink, sleep and +watching, motion and rest, the retentions and excretions, and the +affections of the mind,--he was, as I have said, of the school of +sensible practitioners, in distinction from that vast community of +quacks, with or without the diploma, who think the chief end of man is to +support apothecaries, and are never easy until they can get every patient +upon a regular course of something nasty or noxious. Nobody was so +precise in his directions about diet, air, and exercise, as Dr. Jackson. +He had the same dislike to the a peu pres, the about so much, about so +often, about so long, which I afterwards found among the punctilious +adherents of the numerical system at La Pitie. + +He used to insist on one small point with a certain philological +precision, namely, the true meaning of the word "cure." He would have it +that to cure a patient was simply to care for him. I refer to it as +showing what his idea was of the relation of the physician to the +patient. It was indeed to care for him, as if his life were bound up in +him, to watch his incomings and outgoings, to stand guard at every avenue +that disease might enter, to leave nothing to chance; not merely to throw +a few pills and powders into one pan of the scales of Fate, while Death +the skeleton was seated in the other, but to lean with his whole weight +on the side of life, and shift the balance in its favor if it lay in +human power to do it. Such devotion as this is only to be looked for in +the man who gives himself wholly up to the business of healing, who +considers Medicine itself a Science, or if not a science, is willing to +follow it as an art,--the noblest of arts, which the gods and demigods of +ancient religions did not disdain to practise and to teach. + +The same zeal made him always ready to listen to any new suggestion which +promised to be useful, at a period of life when many men find it hard to +learn new methods and accept new doctrines. Few of his generation became +so accomplished as he in the arts of direct exploration; coming straight +from the Parisian experts, I have examined many patients with him, and +have had frequent opportunities of observing his skill in percussion and +auscultation. + +One element in his success, a trivial one compared with others, but not +to be despised, was his punctuality. He always carried two watches,--I +doubt if he told why, any more than Dr. Johnson told what he did with the +orange-peel,--but probably with reference to this virtue. He was as much +to be depended upon at the appointed time as the solstice or the equinox. +There was another point I have heard him speak of as an important rule +with him; to come at the hour when he was expected; if he had made his +visit for several days successively at ten o'clock, for instance, not to +put it off, if he could possibly help it, until eleven, and so keep a +nervous patient and an anxious family waiting for him through a long, +weary hour. + +If I should attempt to characterize his teaching, I should say that while +it conveyed the best results of his sagacious and extended observation, +it was singularly modest, cautious, simple, sincere. Nothing was for +show, for self-love; there was no rhetoric, no declamation, no triumphant +"I told you so," but the plain statement of a clear-headed honest man, +who knows that he is handling one of the gravest subjects that interest +humanity. His positive instructions were full of value, but the spirit +in which he taught inspired that loyal love of truth which lies at the +bottom of all real excellence. + +I will not say that, during his long career, Dr. Jackson never made an +enemy. I have heard him tell how, in his very early days, old Dr. +Danforth got into a towering passion with him about some professional +consultation, and exploded a monosyllable or two of the more energetic +kind on the occasion. I remember that that somewhat peculiar personage, +Dr. Waterhouse, took it hardly when Dr. Jackson succeeded to his place as +Professor of Theory and Practice. A young man of Dr. Jackson's talent +and energy could hardly take the position that belonged to him without +crowding somebody in a profession where three in a bed is the common rule +of the household. But he was a peaceful man and a peace-maker all his +days. No man ever did more, if so much, to produce and maintain the +spirit of harmony for which we consider our medical community as somewhat +exceptionally distinguished. + +If this harmony should ever be threatened, I could wish that every +impatient and irritable member of the profession would read that +beautiful, that noble Preface to the "Letters," addressed to John Collins +Warren. I know nothing finer in the medical literature of all time than +this Prefatory Introduction. It is a golden prelude, fit to go with the +three great Prefaces which challenge the admiration of scholars, +--Calvin's to his Institutes, De Thou's to his History, and +Casaubon's to his Polybius,--not because of any learning or rhetoric, +though it is charmingly written, but for a spirit flowing through it to +which learning and rhetoric are but as the breath that is wasted on the +air to the Mood that warms the heart. + +Of a similar character is this short extract which I am permitted to make +from a private letter of his to a dear young friend. He was eighty-three +years old at the time of writing it. + +"I have not loved everybody whom I have known, but I have striven to see +the good points in the characters of all men and women. At first I must +have done this from something in my own nature, for I was not aware of +it, and yet was doing it without any plan, when one day, sixty years ago, +a friend whom I loved and respected said this to me, 'Ah, James, I see +that you are destined to succeed in the world, and to make friends, +because you are so ready to see the good point in the characters of those +you meet.'" + +I close this imperfect notice of some features in the character of this +most honored and beloved of physicians by applying to him the words which +were written of William Heberden, whose career was not unlike his own, +and who lived to the same patriarchal age. + +"From his early youth he had always entertained a deep sense of religion, +a consummate love of virtue, an ardent thirst after knowledge, and an +earnest desire to promote the welfare and happiness of all mankind. By +these qualities, accompanied with great sweetness of manners, he acquired +the love and esteem of all good men, in a degree which perhaps very few +have experienced; and after passing an active life with the uniform +testimony of a good conscience, he became an eminent example of its +influence, in the cheerfulness and serenity of his latest age." + +Such was the man whom I offer to you as a model, young gentlemen, at the +outset of your medical career. I hope that many of you will recognize +some traits of your own special teachers scattered through various parts +of the land in the picture I have drawn. Let me assure you that whatever +you may learn in this or any other course of public lectures,--and I +trust you will learn a great deal,--the daily guidance, counsel, example, +of your medical father, for such the Oath of Hippocrates tells you to +consider your preceptor, will, if he is in any degree like him of whom I +have spoken, be the foundation on which all that we teach is reared, and +perhaps outlive most of our teachings, as in Dr. Jackson's memory the +last lessons that remained with him were those of his Old Master. + + + + +THE MEDICAL PROFESSION IN MASSACHUSETTS. + +A Lecture of a Course by members of the Massachusetts Historical Society, +delivered before the Lowell Institute, January 29, 1869. + +The medical history of eight generations, told in an hour, must be in +many parts a mere outline. The details I shall give will relate chiefly +to the first century. I shall only indicate the leading occurrences, +with the more prominent names of the two centuries which follow, and add +some considerations suggested by the facts which have been passed in +review. + +A geographer who was asked to describe the tides of Massachusetts Bay, +would have to recognize the circumstance that they are a limited +manifestation of a great oceanic movement. To consider them apart from +this, would be to localize a planetary phenomenon, and to provincialize a +law of the universe. The art of healing in Massachusetts has shared more +or less fully and readily the movement which, with its periods of ebb and +flow, has been raising its level from age to age throughout the better +part of Christendom. Its practitioners brought with them much of the +knowledge and many of the errors of the Old World; they have always been +in communication with its wisdom and its folly; it is not without +interest to see how far the new conditions in which they found themselves +have been favorable or unfavorable to the growth of sound medical +knowledge and practice. + +The state of medicine is an index of the civilization of an age and +country,--one of the best, perhaps, by which it can be judged. Surgery +invokes the aid of all the mechanical arts. From the rude violences of +the age of stone,--a relic of which we may find in the practice of +Zipporah, the wife of Moses,--to the delicate operations of to-day upon +patients lulled into temporary insensibility, is a progress which +presupposes a skill in metallurgy and in the labors of the workshop and +the laboratory it has taken uncounted generations to accumulate. Before +the morphia which deadens the pain of neuralgia, or the quinine which +arrests the fit of an ague, can find their place in our pharmacies, +commerce must have perfected its machinery, and science must have refined +its processes, through periods only to be counted by the life of nations. +Before the means which nature and art have put in the hands of the +medical practitioner can be fairly brought into use, the prejudices of +the vulgar must be overcome, the intrusions of false philosophy must be +fenced out, and the partnership with the priesthood dissolved. All this +implies that freedom and activity of thought which belong only to the +most advanced conditions of society; and the progress towards this is by +gradations as significant of wide-spread changes, as are the varying +states of the barometer of far-extended conditions of the atmosphere. + +Apart, then, from its special and technical interest, my subject has a +meaning which gives a certain importance, and even dignity, to details in +themselves trivial and almost unworthy of record. A medical entry in +Governor Winthrop's journal may seem at first sight a mere curiosity; +but, rightly interpreted, it is a key to his whole system of belief as to +the order of the universe and the relations between man and his Maker. +Nothing sheds such light on the superstitions of an age as the prevailing +interpretation and treatment of disease. When the touch of a profligate +monarch was a cure for one of the most inveterate of maladies, when the +common symptoms of hysteria were prayed over as marks of demoniacal +possession, we might well expect the spiritual realms of thought to be +peopled with still stranger delusions. + +Let us go before the Pilgrims of the Mayflower, and look at the shores on +which they were soon to land. A wasting pestilence had so thinned the +savage tribes that it was sometimes piously interpreted as having +providentially prepared the way for the feeble band of exiles. Cotton +Mather, who, next to the witches, hated the "tawnies," "wild beasts," +"blood-hounds," "rattlesnakes," "infidels," as in different places he +calls the unhappy Aborigines, describes the condition of things in his +lively way, thus: "The Indians in these Parts had newly, even about a +Year or Two before, been visited with such a prodigious Pestilence; as +carried away not a Tenth, but Nine Parts of Ten (yea't is said Nineteen +of Twenty) among them so that the Woods were almost cleared of those +pernicious Creatures to make Room for a better Growth." + +What this pestilence was has been much discussed. It is variously +mentioned by different early writers as "the plague," "a great and +grievous plague," "a sore consumption," as attended with spots which left +unhealed places on those who recovered, as making the "whole surface +yellow as with a garment." Perhaps no disease answers all these +conditions so well as smallpox. We know from different sources what +frightful havoc it made among the Indians in after years,--in 1631, for +instance, when it swept away the aboriginal inhabitants of "whole towns," +and in 1633. We have seen a whole tribe, the Mandans, extirpated by it +in our own day. The word "plague" was used very vaguely, as in the +description of the "great sickness" found among the Indians by the +expedition of 1622. This same great sickness could hardly have been +yellow fever, as it occurred in the month of November. I cannot think, +therefore, that either the scourge of the East or our Southern malarial +pestilence was the disease that wasted the Indians. As for the +yellowness like a garment, that is too familiar to the eyes of all who +have ever looked on the hideous mask of confluent variola. + +Without the presence or the fear of these exotic maladies, the forlorn +voyagers of the Mayflower had sickness enough to contend with. At their +first landing at Cape Cod, gaunt and hungry and longing for fresh food, +they found upon the sandy shore "great mussel's, and very fat and full of +sea-pearl." Sailors and passengers indulged in the treacherous delicacy; +which seems to have been the sea-clam; and found that these mollusks, +like the shell the poet tells of, remembered their august abode, and +treated the way-worn adventurers to a gastric reminiscence of the heaving +billows. In the mean time it blew and snowed and froze. The water turned +to ice on their clothes, and made them many times like coats of iron. +Edward Tilley had like to have "sounded" with cold. The gunner, too, was +sick unto death, but "hope of trucking" kept him on his feet,--a Yankee, +it should seem, when he first touched the shore of New England. Most, if +not all, got colds and coughs, which afterwards turned to scurvy, whereof +many died. + +How can we wonder that the crowded and tempest-tossed voyagers, many of +them already suffering, should have fallen before the trials of the first +winter in Plymouth? Their imperfect shelter, their insufficient supply +of bread, their salted food, now in unwholesome condition, account too +well for the diseases and the mortality that marked this first dreadful +season; weakness, swelling of the limbs, and other signs of scurvy, +betrayed the want of proper nourishment and protection from the elements. +In December six of their number died, in January eight, in February, +seventeen, in March thirteen. With the advance of spring the mortality +diminished, the sick and lame began to recover, and the colonists, +saddened but not disheartened, applied themselves to the labors of the +opening year. + +One of the most pressing needs of the early colonists must have been that +of physicians and surgeons. In Mr. Savage's remarkable Genealogical +Dictionary of the first settlers who came over before 1692 and their +descendants to the third generation, I find scattered through the four +crowded volumes the names of one hundred and thirty-four medical +practitioners. Of these, twelve, and probably many more, practised +surgery; three were barber-surgeons. A little incident throws a glimmer +from the dark lantern of memory upon William Direly, one of these +practitioners with the razor and the lancet. He was lost between Boston +and Roxbury in a violent tempest of wind and snow; ten days afterwards a +son was born to his widow, and with a touch of homely sentiment, I had +almost said poetry, they called the little creature "Fathergone" Direly. +Six or seven, probably a larger number, were ministers as well as +physicians, one of whom, I am sorry to say, took to drink and tumbled +into the Connecticut River, and so ended. One was not only doctor, but +also schoolmaster and poet. One practised medicine and kept a tavern. +One was a butcher, but calls himself a surgeon in his will, a union of +callings which suggests an obvious pleasantry. One female practitioner, +employed by her own sex,--Ann Moore,--was the precursor of that intrepid +sisterhood whose cause it has long been my pleasure and privilege to +advocate on all fitting occasions. + +Outside of this list I must place the name of Thomas Wilkinson, who was +complained of, is 1676, for practising contrary to law. + +Many names in the catalogue of these early physicians have been +associated, in later periods, with the practice of the profession, +--among them, Boylston, Clark, Danforth, Homan, Jeffrey, Kittredge, +Oliver, Peaslee, Randall, Shattuck, Thacher, Wellington, Williams, +Woodward. Touton was a Huguenot, Burchsted a German from Silesia, +Lunerus a German or a Pole; "Pighogg Churrergeon," I hope, for the honor +of the profession, was only Peacock disguised under this alias, which +would not, I fear, prove very attractive to patients. + +What doctrines and practice were these colonists likely to bring, with +them? + +Two principal schools of medical practice prevailed in the Old World +during the greater part of the seventeenth century. The first held to +the old methods of Galen: its theory was that the body, the microcosm, +like the macrocosm, was made up of the four elements--fire, air, water, +earth; having respectively the qualities hot, dry, moist, cold. The body +was to be preserved in health by keeping each of these qualities in its +natural proportion; heat, by the proper temperature; moisture, by the due +amount of fluid; and so as to the rest. Diseases which arose from excess +of heat were to be attacked by cooling remedies; those from excess of +cold, by heating ones; and so of the other derangements of balance. This +was truly the principle of contraries contrariis, which ill-informed +persons have attempted to make out to be the general doctrine of +medicine, whereas there is no general dogma other than this: disease is +to be treated by anything that is proved to cure it. The means the +Galenist employed were chiefly diet and vegetable remedies, with the use +of the lancet and other depleting agents. He attributed the four +fundamental qualities to different vegetables, in four different degrees; +thus chicory was cold in the fourth degree, pepper was hot in the fourth, +endive was cold and dry in the second, and bitter almonds were hot in the +first and dry in the second degree. When we say "cool as a cucumber," we +are talking Galenism. The seeds of that vegetable ranked as one of "the +four greater cold seeds" of this system. + +Galenism prevailed mostly in the south of Europe and France. The readers +of Moliere will have no difficulty in recalling some of its favorite +modes of treatment, and the abundant mirth he extracted from them. + +These Galenists were what we should call "herb-doctors" to-day. Their +insignificant infusions lost credit after a time; their absurdly +complicated mixtures excited contempt, and their nauseous prescriptions +provoked loathing and disgust. A simpler and bolder practice found +welcome in Germany, depending chiefly on mineral remedies, mercury, +antimony, sulphur, arsenic, and the use, sometimes the secret use, of +opium. Whatever we think of Paracelsus, the chief agent in the +introduction of these remedies, and whatever limits we may assign to the +use of these long-trusted mineral drugs, there can be no doubt that the +chemical school, as it was called, did a great deal towards the +expurgation of the old, overloaded, and repulsive pharmacopoeia. We +shall find evidence in the practice of our New-England physicians of the +first century, that they often employed chemical remedies, and that, by +the early part of the following century, their chief trust was in the few +simple, potent drugs of Paracelsus. + +We have seen that many of the practitioners of medicine, during the first +century of New England, were clergymen. This relation between medicine +and theology has existed from a very early period; from the Egyptian +priest to the Indian medicine-man, the alliance has been maintained in +one form or another. The partnership was very common among our British +ancestors. Mr. Ward, the Vicar of Stratford-on-Avon, himself a notable +example of the union of the two characters, writing about 1660, says, + +"The Saxons had their blood-letters, but under the Normans physicke, +begunne in England; 300 years agoe itt was not a distinct profession by +itself, but practised by men in orders, witness Nicholas de Ternham, the +chief English physician and Bishop of Durham; Hugh of Evesham, a +physician and cardinal; Grysant, physician and pope; John Chambers, Dr. +of Physick, was the first Bishop of Peterborough; Paul Bush, a bachelor +of divinitie in Oxford, was a man well read in physick as well as +divinitie, he was the first bishop of Bristol." + +"Again in King Richard the Second's time physicians and divines were not +distinct professions; for one Tydeman, Bishop of Landaph and Worcester, +was physician to King Richard the Second." + +This alliance may have had its share in creating and keeping up the many +superstitions which have figured so largely in the history of medicine. +It is curious to see that a medical work left in manuscript by the Rev. +Cotton Mather and hereafter to be referred to, is running over with +follies and superstitious fancies; while his contemporary and +fellow-townsman, William Douglass, relied on the same few simple remedies +which, through Dr. Edward Holyoke and Dr. James Jackson, have come down +to our own time, as the most important articles of the materia medica. + +Let us now take a general glance at some of the conditions of the early +settlers; and first, as to the healthfulness of the climate. The +mortality of the season that followed the landing of the Pilgrims at +Plymouth has been sufficiently accounted for. After this, the colonists +seem to have found the new country agreeing very well with their English +constitutions. Its clear air is the subject of eulogy. Its dainty +springs of sweet water are praised not only by Higginson and Wood, but +even the mischievous Morton says, that for its delicate waters "Canaan +came not near this country." There is a tendency to dilate on these +simple blessings, which reminds one a little of the Marchioness in +Dickens's story, with her orange-peel-and-water beverage. Still more +does one feel the warmth of coloring,--such as we expect from converts to +a new faith, and settlers who want to entice others over to their +clearings, when Winslow speaks, in 1621, of "abundance of roses, white, +red, and damask; single, but very sweet indeed;" a most of all, however, +when, in the same connection, he says, "Here are grapes white and red, +and very sweet and strong also." This of our wild grape, a little +vegetable Indian, which scalps a civilized man's mouth, as his animal +representative scalps his cranium. But there is something quite charming +in Winslow's picture of the luxury in which they are living. Lobsters, +oysters, eels, mussels, fish and fowl, delicious fruit, including the +grapes aforesaid,--if they only had "kine, horses, and sheep," he makes +no question but men would live as contented here as in any part of the +world. We cannot help admiring the way in which they took their trials, +and made the most of their blessings. + +"And how Content they were," says Cotton Mather, "when an Honest Man, as +I have heard, inviting his Friends to a Dish of Clams, at the Table gave +Thanks to Heaven, who had given them to suck the abundance of the Seas, +and of the Treasures Aid in the Sands!" + +Strangely enough, as it would seem, except for this buoyant determination +to make the best of everything, they hardly appear to recognize the +difference of the climate from that which they had left. After almost +three years' experience, Winslow says, he can scarce distinguish New +England from Old England, in respect of heat and cold, frost, snow, rain, +winds, etc. The winter, he thinks (if there is a difference), is sharper +and longer; but yet he may be deceived by the want of the comforts he +enjoyed at home. He cannot conceive any climate to agree better with the +constitution of the English, not being oppressed with extremity of heats, +nor nipped by biting cold: + +"By which means, blessed be God, we enjoy our health, notwithstanding +those difficulties we have undergone, in such a measure as would have +been admired, if we had lived in England with the like means." + +Edward Johnson, after mentioning the shifts to which they were put for +food, says,-- + +"And yet, methinks, our children are as cheerful, fat, and lusty, with +feeding upon those mussels, clams, and other fish, as they were in +England with their fill of bread." + +Higginson, himself a dyspeptic, "continually in physic," as he says, and +accustomed to dress in thick clothing, and to comfort his stomach with +drink that was "both strong and stale,"--the "jolly good ale and old," I +suppose, of free and easy Bishop Still's song,--found that he both could +and did oftentimes drink New England water very well,--which he seems to +look upon as a remarkable feat. He could go as lightclad as any, too, +with only a light stuff cassock upon his shirt, and stuff breeches +without linings. Two of his children were sickly: one,--little misshapen +Mary,--died on the passage, and, in her father's words, "was the first in +our ship that was buried in the bowels of the great Atlantic sea;" the +other, who had been "most lamentably handled" by disease, recovered +almost entirely "by the very wholesomeness of the air, altering, +digesting, and drying up the cold and crude humors of the body." +Wherefore, he thinks it a wise course for all cold complexions to come to +take physic in New England, and ends with those often quoted words, that +"a sup of New England's air is better than a whole draught of Old +England's ale." Mr. Higginson died, however, "of a hectic fever," a +little more than a year after his arrival. + +The medical records which I shall cite show that the colonists were not +exempt from the complaints of the Old World. Besides the common diseases +to which their descendants are subject, there were two others, to say +nothing of the dreaded small-pox, which later medical science has +disarmed,--little known among us at the present day, but frequent among +the first settlers. The first of these was the scurvy, already +mentioned, of which Winthrop speaks in 1630, saying, that it proved fatal +to those who fell into discontent, and lingered after their former +conditions in England; the poor homesick creatures in fact, whom we so +forget in our florid pictures of the early times of the little band in +the wilderness. Many who were suffering from scurvy got well when the +Lyon arrived from England, bringing store of juice of lemons. The +Governor speaks of another case in 1644; and it seems probable that the +disease was not of rare occurrence. + +The other complaint from which they suffered, but which has nearly +disappeared from among us, was intermittent fever, or fever and ague. I +investigated the question as to the prevalence of this disease in New +England, in a dissertation, which was published in a volume with other +papers, in the year 1838. I can add little to the facts there recorded. +One which escaped me was, that Joshua Scottow, in "Old Men's Tears," +dated 1691, speaks of "shaking agues," as among the trials to which they +had been subjected. The outline map of New England, accompanying the +dissertation above referred to, indicates all the places where I had +evidence that the disease had originated. It was plain enough that it +used to be known in many localities where it has long ceased to be +feared. Still it was and is remarkable to see what a clean bill of +health in this particular respect our barren soil inherited with its +sterility. There are some malarious spots on the edge of Lake Champlain, +and there have been some temporary centres of malaria, within the memory +of man, on one or more of our Massachusetts rivers, but these are +harmless enough, for the most part, unless the millers dam them, when +they are apt to retaliate with a whiff from their meadows, that sets the +whole neighborhood shaking with fever and ague. + +The Pilgrims of the Mayflower had with them a good physician, a man of +standing, a deacon of their church, one whom they loved and trusted, Dr. +Samuel Fuller. But no medical skill could keep cold and hunger and bad +food, and, probably enough, desperate homesickness in some of the feebler +sort, from doing their work. No detailed record remains of what they +suffered or what was attempted for their relief during the first sad +winter. The graves of those who died were levelled and sowed with grain +that the losses of the little band might not be suspected by the savage +tenants of the wilderness, and their story remains untold. + +Of Dr. Fuller's practice, at a later period, we have an account in a +letter of his to Governor Bradford, dated June, 1630. "I have been to +Matapan" (now Dorchester), he says, "and let some twenty of those people +blood." Such wholesale depletion as this, except with avowed homicidal +intent, is quite unknown in these days; though I once saw the noted +French surgeon, Lisfranc, in a fine phlebotomizing frenzy, order some ten +or fifteen patients, taken almost indiscriminately, to be bled in a +single morning. + +Dr. Fuller's two visits to Salem, at the request of Governor Endicott, +seem to have been very satisfactory to that gentleman. Morton, the wild +fellow of Merry Mount, gives a rather questionable reason for the +Governor's being so well pleased with the physician's doings. The names +under which he mentions the two personages, it will be seen, are not +intended to be complimentary. "Dr. Noddy did a great cure for Captain +Littleworth. He cured him of a disease called a wife." William Gager, +who came out with Winthrop, is spoken of as "a right godly man and +skilful chyrurgeon, but died of a malignant fever not very long after his +arrival." + +Two practitioners of the ancient town of Newbury are entitled to special +notice, for different reasons. The first is Dr. John Clark, who is said +by tradition to have been the first regularly educated physician who +resided in New England. His portrait, in close-fitting skull-cap, with +long locks and venerable flowing beard, is familiar to our eyes on the +wall of our Society's antechamber. His left hand rests upon a skull, his +right hand holds an instrument which deserves a passing comment. It is a +trephine, a surgical implement for cutting round pieces out of broken +skulls, so as to get at the fragments which have been driven in, and lift +them up. It has a handle like that of a gimlet, with a claw like a +hammer, to lift with, I suppose, which last contrivance I do not see +figured in my books. But the point I refer to is this: the old +instrument, the trepan, had a handle like a wimble, what we call a brace +or bit-stock. The trephine is not mentioned at all in Peter Lowe's book, +London, 1634; nor in Wiseman's great work on Surgery, London, 1676; nor +in the translation of Dionis, published by Jacob Tonson, in 1710. In fact +it was only brought into more general use by Cheselden and Sharpe so late +as the beginning of the last century. As John Clark died in 1661, it is +remarkable to see the last fashion in the way of skull-sawing +contrivances in his hands,--to say nothing of the claw on the handle, and +a Hey's saw, so called in England, lying on the table by him, and painted +there more than a hundred years before Hey was born. This saw is an old +invention, perhaps as old as Hippocrates, and may be seen figured in the +"Armamentarium Chirurgicum" of Scultetus, or in the Works of Ambroise +Pare. + +Dr. Clark is said to have received a diploma before he came, for skill in +lithotomy. He loved horses, as a good many doctors do, and left a good +property, as they all ought to do. His grave and noble presence, with +the few facts concerning him, told with more or less traditional +authority, give us the feeling that the people of Newbury, and afterwards +of Boston, had a wise and skilful medical adviser and surgeon in Dr. John +Clark. + +The venerable town of Newbury had another physician who was less +fortunate. The following is a court record of 1652: + +"This is to certify whom it may concern, that we the subscribers, being +called upon to testify against doctor William Snelling for words by him +uttered, affirm that being in way of merry discourse, a health being +drank to all friends, he answered, + + "I'll pledge my friends, + And for my foes + A plague for their heels + And,'---- + +[a similar malediction on the other extremity of their feet.] + +"Since when he hath affirmed that he only intended the proverb used in +the west country, nor do we believe he intended otherwise. + +"[Signed] "WILLIAM THOMAS. "THOMAS MILWARD. + +"March 12th 1651, All which I acknowledge, and am sorry I did not +expresse my intent, or that I was so weak as to use so foolish a proverb. + +"[Signed] "GULIELMUS SNELLING." + +Notwithstanding this confession and apology, the record tells us that +"William Snelling in his presentment for cursing is fined ten shillings +and the fees of court." + +I will mention one other name among those of the Fathers of the medical +profession in New England. The "apostle" Eliot says, writing in 1647, +"We never had but one anatomy in the country, which Mr. Giles Firman, now +in England, did make and read upon very well." + +Giles Firmin, as the name is commonly spelled, practised physic in this +country for a time. He seems to have found it a poor business; for, in a +letter to Governor Winthrop, he says, "I am strongly sett upon to studye +divinitie: my studyes else must be lost, for physick is but a meene +helpe." + +Giles Firmin's Lectures on Anatomy were the first scientific teachings of +the New World. While the Fathers were enlightened enough to permit such +instructions, they were severe in dealing with quackery; for, in 1631, +our court records show that one Nicholas Knopp, or Knapp, was sentenced +to be fined or whipped "for taking upon him to cure the scurvey by a +water of noe worth nor value, which he solde att a very deare rate." +Empty purses or sore backs would be common with us to-day if such a rule +were enforced. + +Besides the few worthies spoken of, and others whose names I have not +space to record, we must remember that there were many clergymen who took +charge of the bodies as well as the souls of their patients, among them +two Presidents of Harvard College, Charles Chauncy and Leonard Hoar,--and +Thomas Thacher, first minister of the "Old South," author of the earliest +medical treatises printed in the country,[A Brief Rule to Guide the +Common People in Small pox and Measles. 1674.] whose epitaph in Latin +and Greek, said to have been written by Eleazer, an "Indian Youth" and a +member of the Senior Class of Harvard College, may be found in the +"Magnalia." I miss this noble savage's name in our triennial catalogue; +and as there is many a slip between the cup and lip, one is tempted to +guess that he may have lost his degree by some display of his native +instinct,--possibly a flourish of the tomahawk or scalping-knife. +However this may have been, the good man he celebrated was a notable +instance of the Angelical Conjunction, as the author of the "Magnalia" +calls it, of the offices of clergyman and medical practitioner. + +Michael Wigglesworth, author of the "Day of Doom," attended the sick, +"not only as a Pastor, but as a Physician too, and this, not only in his +own town, but also in all those of the vicinity." Mather says of the +sons of Charles Chauncy, "All of these did, while they had Opportunity, +Preach the Gospel; and most, if not all of them, like their excellent +Father before them, had an eminent skill in physick added unto their +other accomplishments," etc. Roger Williams is said to have saved many +in a kind of pestilence which swept away many Indians. + +To these names must be added, as sustaining a certain relation to the +healing art, that of the first Governor Winthrop, who is said by John +Cotton to have been "Help for our Bodies by Physick [and] for our Estates +by Law," and that of his son, the Governor of Connecticut, who, as we +shall see, was as much physician as magistrate. + +I had submitted to me for examination, in 1862, a manuscript found among +the Winthrop Papers, marked with the superscription, "For my worthy +friend Mr. Wintrop," dated in 1643, London, signed Edward Stafford, and +containing medical directions and prescriptions. It may be remembered by +some present that I wrote a report on this paper, which was published in +the "Proceedings" of this Society. Whether the paper was written for +Governor John Winthrop of Massachusetts, or for his son, Governor John of +Connecticut, there is no positive evidence that I have been able to +obtain. It is very interesting, however, as giving short and simple +practical directions, such as would be most like to be wanted and most +useful, in the opinion of a physician in repute of that day. + +The diseases prescribed for are plague, small-pox, fevers, king's evil, +insanity, falling-sickness, and the like; with such injuries as broken +bones, dislocations, and burning with gunpowder. The remedies are of +three kinds: simples, such as St. John's wort, Clown's all-heal, elder, +parsley, maidenhair, mineral drugs, such as lime, saltpetre, Armenian +bole, crocus metallorum, or sulphuret of antimony; and thaumaturgic or +mystical, of which the chief is, "My black powder against the plague, +small-pox; purples, all sorts of feavers; Poyson; either, by Way of +Prevention or after Infection." This marvellous remedy was made by +putting live toads into an earthen pot so as to half fill it, and baking +and burning them "in the open ayre, not in an house,"--concerning which +latter possibility I suspect Madam Winthrop would have had something to +say,--until they could be reduced by pounding, first into a brown, and +then into a black, powder. Blood-letting in some inflammations, fasting +in the early stage of fevers, and some of those peremptory drugs with +which most of us have been well acquainted in our time, the infragrant +memories of which I will not pursue beyond this slight allusion, are +among his remedies. + +The Winthrops, to one of whom Dr. Stafford's directions were addressed, +were the medical as well as the political advisers of their +fellow-citizens for three or four successive generations. One of them, +Governor John of Connecticut, practised so extensively, that, but for his +more distinguished title in the State, he would have been remembered as +the Doctor. The fact that he practised in another colony, for the most +part, makes little difference in the value of the records we have of his +medical experience, which have fortunately been preserved, and give a +very fair idea, in all probability, of the way in which patients were +treated in Massachusetts, when they fell into intelligent and somewhat +educated hands, a little after the middle of the seventeenth century: + +I have before me, while writing, a manuscript collection of the medical +cases treated by him, and recorded at the time in his own hand, which has +been intrusted to me by our President, his descendant. + +They are generally marked Hartford, and extend from the year 1657 to +1669. From these, manuscripts, and from the letters printed in the +Winthrop Papers published by our Society, I have endeavored to obtain +some idea of the practice of Governor John Winthrop, Junior. The learned +eye of Mr. Pulsifer would have helped me, no doubt, as it has done in +other cases; but I have ventured this time to attempt finding my own way +among the hieroglyphics of these old pages. By careful comparison of +many prescriptions, and by the aid of Schroder, Salmon, Culpeper, and +other old compilers, I have deciphered many of his difficult paragraphs +with their mysterious recipes. + +The Governor employed a number of the simples dear to ancient women, +--elecampane and elder and wormwood and anise and the rest; but he also +employed certain mineral remedies, which he almost always indicates by +their ancient symbols, or by a name which should leave them a mystery to +the vulgar. I am now prepared to reveal the mystic secrets of the +Governor's beneficent art, which rendered so many good and great as well +as so many poor and dependent people his debtors,--at least, in their +simple belief,--for their health and their lives. + +His great remedy, which he gave oftener than any other, was nitre; which +he ordered in doses of twenty or thirty grains to adults, and of three +grains to infants. Measles, colics, sciatica, headache, giddiness, and +many other ailments, all found themselves treated, and I trust bettered, +by nitre; a pretty safe medicine in moderate doses, and one not likely to +keep the good Governor awake at night, thinking whether it might not +kill, if it did not cure. We may say as much for spermaceti, which he +seems to have considered "the sovereign'st thing on earth" for inward +bruises, and often prescribes after falls and similar injuries. + +One of the next remedies, in point of frequency, which he was in the +habit of giving, was (probably diaphoretic) antimony; a mild form of that +very active metal, and which, mild as it was, left his patients very +commonly with a pretty strong conviction that they had been taking +something that did not exactly agree with them. Now and then he gave a +little iron or sulphur or calomel, but very rarely; occasionally, a good, +honest dose of rhubarb or jalap; a taste of stinging horseradish, oftener +of warming guiacum; sometimes an anodyne, in the shape of +mithridate,--the famous old farrago, which owed its virtue to poppy +juice; [This is the remedy which a Boston divine tried to simplify. See +Electuarium Novum Alexipharmacum, by Rev. Thomas Harward, lecturer at +the Royal Chappell. Boston, 1732. This tract is in our Society's +library.] very often, a harmless powder of coral; less frequently, an +inert prescription of pleasing amber; and (let me say it softly within +possible hearing of his honored descendant), twice or oftener,--let us +hope as a last resort,--an electuary of millipedes,--sowbugs, if we must +give them their homely English name. One or two other prescriptions, of +the many unmentionable ones which disgraced the pharmacopoeia of the +seventeenth century, are to be found, but only in very rare instances, in +the faded characters of the manuscript. + +The excellent Governor's accounts of diseases are so brief, that we get +only a very general notion of the complaints for which he prescribed. +Measles and their consequences are at first more prominent than any other +one affection, but the common infirmities of both sexes and of all ages +seem to have come under his healing hand. Fever and ague appears to have +been of frequent occurrence. + +His published correspondence shows that many noted people were in +communication with him as his patients. Roger Williams wants a little of +his medicine for Mrs. Weekes's daughter; worshipful John Haynes is in +receipt of his powders; troublesome Captain Underhill wants "a little +white vitterall" for his wife, and something to cure his wife's friend's +neuralgia, (I think his wife's friend's husband had a little rather have +had it sent by the hands of Mrs. Underhill, than by those of the gallant +and discursive captain); and pious John Davenport says, his wife "tooke +but one halfe of one of the papers" (which probably contained the +medicine he called rubila), "but could not beare the taste of it, and is +discouraged from taking any more;" and honored William Leete asks for +more powders for his "poore little daughter Graciana," though he found it +"hard to make her take it," delicate, and of course sensitive, child as +she was, languishing and dying before her time, in spite of all the +bitter things she swallowed,--God help all little children in the hands +of dosing doctors and howling dervishes! Restless Samuel Gorton, now +tamed by the burden of fourscore and two years, writes so touching an +account of his infirmities, and expresses such overflowing gratitude for +the relief he has obtained from the Governor's prescriptions, wondering +how "a thing so little in quantity, so little in sent, so little in +taste, and so little to sence in operation, should beget and bring forth +such efects," that we repent our hasty exclamation, and bless the memory +of the good Governor, who gave relief to the worn-out frame of our +long-departed brother, the sturdy old heretic of Rhode Island. + +What was that medicine which so frequently occurs in the printed letters +under the name of "rubila"? It is evidently a secret remedy, and, so far +as I know, has not yet been made out. I had almost given it up in +despair, when I found what appears to be a key to the mystery. In the +vast multitude of prescriptions contained in the manuscripts, most of +them written in symbols, I find one which I thus interpret: + +"Four grains of (diaphoretic) antimony, with twenty grains of nitre, with +a little salt of tin, making rubila." Perhaps something was added to +redden the powder, as he constantly speaks of "rubifying" or "viridating" +his prescriptions; a very common practice of prescribers, when their +powders look a little too much like plain salt or sugar. + +Waitstill Winthrop, the Governor's son, "was a skilful physician," says +Mr. Sewall, in his funeral sermon; "and generously gave, not only his +advice, but also his Medicines, for the healing of the Sick, which, by +the Blessing of God, were made successful for the recovery of many." +"His son John, a member of the Royal Society, speaks of himself as 'Dr. +Winthrop,' and mentions one of his own prescriptions in a letter to +Cotton Mather." Our President tells me that there was an heirloom of the +ancient skill in his family, within his own remembrance, in the form of a +certain precious eye-water, to which the late President John Quincy Adams +ascribed rare virtue, and which he used to obtain from the possessor of +the ancient recipe. + +These inherited prescriptions are often treasured in families, I do not +doubt, for many generations. When I was yet of trivial age, and +suffering occasionally, as many children do, from what one of my +Cambridgeport schoolmates used to call the "ager,"--meaning thereby +toothache or face-ache,--I used to get relief from a certain plaster +which never went by any other name in the family than "Dr. Oliver." + +Dr. James Oliver was my great-great-grandfather, graduated in 1680, and +died in 1703. This was, no doubt, one of his nostrums; for nostrum, as +is well known, means nothing more than our own or my own particular +medicine, or other possession or secret, and physicians in old times used +to keep their choice recipes to themselves a good deal, as we have had +occasion to see. + +Some years ago I found among my old books a small manuscript marked +"James Oliver. This Book Begun Aug. 12, 1685." It is a rough sort of +account-book, containing among other things prescriptions for patients, +and charges for the same, with counter-charges for the purchase of +medicines and other matters. Dr. Oliver practised in Cambridge, where +may be seen his tomb with inscriptions, and with sculptured figures that +look more like Diana of the Ephesians, as given in Calmet's Dictionary, +than like any angels admitted into good society here or elsewhere. + +I do not find any particular record of what his patients suffered from, +but I have carefully copied out the remedies he mentions, and find that +they form a very respectable catalogue. Besides the usual simples, +elder, parsley, fennel, saffron, snake-root, wormwood, I find the Elixir +Proprietatis, with other elixire and cordials, as if he rather fancied +warming medicines; but he called in the aid of some of the more energetic +remedies, including iron, and probably mercury, as he bought two pounds +of it at one time. + +The most interesting item is his bill against the estate of Samuel Pason +of Roxbury, for services during his last illness. He attended this +gentleman,--for such he must have been, by the amount of physic which he +took, and which his heirs paid for,--from June 4th, 1696, to September 3d +of the same year, three months. I observe he charges for visits as well +as for medicines, which is not the case in most of his bills. He opens +the attack with a carminative appeal to the visceral conscience, and +follows it up with good hard-hitting remedies for dropsy,--as I suppose +the disease would have been called,--and finishes off with a rallying +dose of hartshorn and iron. + +It is a source of honest pride to his descendant that his bill, which was +honestly paid, as it seems to have been honorably earned, amounted to the +handsome total of seven pounds and two shillings. Let me add that he +repeatedly prescribes plaster, one of which was very probably the "Dr. +Oliver" that soothed my infant griefs, and for which I blush to say that +my venerated ancestor received from Goodman Hancock the painfully +exiguous sum of no pounds, no shillings, and sixpence. + +I have illustrated the practice of the first century, from the two +manuscripts I have examined, as giving an impartial idea of its every-day +methods. The Governor, Johannes Secundus, it is fair to remember, was an +amateur practitioner, while my ancestor was a professed physician. +Comparing their modes of treatment with the many scientific follies still +prevailing in the Old World, and still more with the extraordinary +theological superstitions of the community in which they lived, we shall +find reason, I think, to consider the art of healing as in a +comparatively creditable state during the first century of New England. + +In addition to the evidence as to methods of treatment furnished by the +manuscripts I have cited, I subjoin the following document, to which my +attention was called by Dr. Shurtleff, our present Mayor. This is a +letter of which the original is to be found in vol. lxix. page 10 of the +"Archives" preserved at the State House in Boston. It will be seen that +what the surgeon wanted consisted chiefly of opiates, stimulants, +cathartics, plasters, and materials for bandages. The complex and varied +formulae have given place to simpler and often more effective forms of +the same remedies; but the list and the manner in which it is made out +are proofs of the good sense and schooling of the surgeon, who, it may be +noted, was in such haste that he neglected all his stops. He might well +be in a hurry, as on the very day upon which he wrote, a great body of +Indians--supposed to be six or seven hundred--appeared before Hatfield; +and twenty-five resolute young men of Hadley, from which town he wrote, +crossed the river and drove them away. + +HADLY May 30: 76 + +Mr RAWSON Sr + +What we have recd by Tho: Houey the past month is not the cheifest of our +wants as you have love for poor wounded I pray let us not want for these +following medicines if you have not a speedy conveyance of them I pray +send on purpose they are those things mentioned in my former letter but +to prevent future mistakes I have wrote them att large wee have great +want with the greatest halt and speed let us be supplyed. Sr Yr Sert WILL +LOCHS + +(Endorsed) + +Mr. Lockes Letter Recd from the Governor 13 Jane & acquainted ye Council +with it but could not obtaine any thing to be sent in answer thereto. +13 June 1676 + +I have given some idea of the chief remedies used by our earlier +physicians, which were both Galenic and chemical; that is, vegetable and +mineral. They, of course, employed the usual perturbing medicines which +Montaigne says are the chief reliance of their craft. There were, +doubtless, individual practitioners who employed special remedies with +exceptional boldness and perhaps success. Mr. Eliot is spoken of, in a +letter of William Leete to Winthrop, Junior, as being under Mr. +Greenland's mercurial administrations. The latter was probably enough +one of these specialists. + +There is another class of remedies which appears to have been employed +occasionally, but, on the whole, is so little prominent as to imply a +good deal of common sense among the medical practitioners, as compared +with the superstitions prevailing around them. I have said that I have +caught the good Governor, now and then, prescribing the electuary of +millipedes; but he is entirely excused by the almost incredible fact that +they were retained in the materia medica so late as when Rees's +Cyclopaedia was published, and we there find the directions formerly +given by the College of Edinburgh for their preparation. Once or twice +we have found him admitting still more objectionable articles into his +materia medica; in doing which, I am sorry to say that he could plead +grave and learned authority. But these instances are very rare +exceptions in a medical practice of many years, which is, on the whole, +very respectable, considering the time and circumstances. + +Some remedies of questionable though not odious character appear +occasionally to have been employed by the early practitioners, but they +were such as still had the support of the medical profession. Governor +John Winthrop, the first, sends for East Indian bezoar, with other +commodities he is writing for. Governor Endicott sends him one he had of +Mr. Humfrey. I hope it was genuine, for they cheated infamously in the +matter of this concretion, which ought to come out of an animal's +stomach, but the real history of which resembles what is sometimes told +of modern sausages. + +There is a famous law-case of James the First's time, in which a +goldsmith sold a hundred pounds' worth of what he called bezoar, which +was proved to be false, and the purchaser got a verdict against him. +Governor Endicott also sends Winthrop a unicorn's horn, which was the +property of a certain Mrs. Beggarly, who, in spite of her name, seems to +have been rich in medical knowledge and possessions. The famous Thomas +Bartholinus wrote a treatise on the virtues of this fabulous-sounding +remedy, which was published in 1641, and republished in 1678. + +The "antimonial cup," a drinking vessel made of that metal, which, like +our quassia-wood cups, might be filled and emptied in saecula saeculorum +without exhausting its virtues, is mentioned by Matthew Cradock, in a +letter to the elder Winthrop, but in a doubtful way, as it was thought, +he says, to have shortened the days of Sir Nathaniel Riche; and Winthrop +himself, as I think, refers to its use, calling it simply "the cup." An +antimonial cup is included in the inventory of Samuel Seabury, who died +1680, and is valued at five shillings. There is a treatise entitled "The +Universall Remedy, or the Vertues of the Antimoniall Cup, By John Evans, +Minister and Preacher of God's Word, London, 1634," in our own Society's +library. + +One other special remedy deserves notice, because of native growth. I do +not know when Culver's root, Leptandra Virginica of our National +Pharmacopoeia, became noted, but Cotton Mather, writing in 1716 to John +Winthrop of New London, speaks of it as famous for the cure of +consumptions, and wishes to get some of it, through his mediation, for +Katharine, his eldest daughter. He gets it, and gives it to the "poor +damsel," who is languishing, as he says, and who dies the next +month,--all the sooner, I have little doubt, for this uncertain and +violent drug, with which the meddlesome pedant tormented her in that +spirit of well-meant but restless quackery, which could touch nothing +without making mischief, not even a quotation, and yet proved at length +the means of bringing a great blessing to our community, as we shall see +by and by; so does Providence use our very vanities and infirmities for +its wise purposes. + +Externally, I find the practitioners on whom I have chiefly relied used +the plasters of Paracelsus, of melilot, diachylon, and probably +diaphoenicon, all well known to the old pharmacopoeias, and some of them +to the modern ones,--to say nothing of "my yellow salve," of Governor +John, the second, for the composition of which we must apply to his +respected descendant. + +The authors I find quoted are Barbette's Surgery, Camerarius on Gout, and +Wecherus, of all whom notices may be found in the pages of Haller and +Vanderlinden; also, Reed's Surgery, and Nicholas Culpeper's Practice of +Physic and Anatomy, the last as belonging to Samuel Seabury, chirurgeon, +before mentioned. Nicholas Culpeper was a shrewd charlatan, and as +impudent a varlet as ever prescribed for a colic; but knew very well what +he was about, and badgers the College with great vigor. A copy of +Spigelius's famous Anatomy, in the Boston Athenaeum, has the names of +Increase and Samuel Mather written in it, and was doubtless early +overhauled by the youthful Cotton, who refers to the great anatomist's +singular death, among his curious stories in the "Magnalia," and quotes +him among nearly a hundred authors whom he cites in his manuscript "The +Angel of Bethesda." Dr. John Clark's "books and instruments, with +several chirurgery materials in the closet," a were valued in his +inventory at sixty pounds; Dr. Matthew Fuller, who died in 1678, left a +library valued at ten pounds; and a surgeon's chest and drugs valued at +sixteen pounds.' + +Here we leave the first century and all attempts at any further detailed +accounts of medicine and its practitioners. It is necessary to show in a +brief glance what had been going on in Europe during the latter part of +that century, the first quarter of which had been made illustrious in the +history of medical science by the discovery of the circulation. + +Charles Barbeyrac, a Protestant in his religion, was a practitioner and +teacher of medicine at Montpellier. His creed was in the way of his +obtaining office; but the young men followed his instructions with +enthusiasm. Religious and scientific freedom breed in and in, until it +becomes hard to tell the family of one from that of the other. Barbeyrac +threw overboard the old complex medical farragos of the pharmacopoeias, +as his church had disburdened itself of the popish ceremonies. + +Among the students who followed his instructions were two Englishmen: one +of them, John Locke, afterwards author of an "Essay on the Human +Understanding," three years younger than his teacher; the other, Thomas +Sydenham, five years older. Both returned to England. Locke, whose +medical knowledge is borne witness to by Sydenham, had the good fortune +to form a correct opinion on a disease from which the Earl of Shaftesbury +was suffering, which led to an operation that saved his life. Less +felicitous was his experience with a certain ancilla culinaria +virgo,--which I am afraid would in those days have been translated +kitchen-wench, instead of lady of the culinary department,--who turned +him off after she had got tired of him, and called in another +practitioner. [Locke and Sydenham, p. 124. By John Brown, M. D. +Edinburgh, 1866.] This helped, perhaps, to spoil a promising doctor, and +make an immortal metaphysician. At any rate, Locke laid down the +professional wig and cane, and took to other studies. + +The name of Thomas Sydenham is as distinguished in the history of +medicine as that of John Locke in philosophy. As Barbeyrac was found in +opposition to the established religion, as Locke took the rational side +against orthodox Bishop Stillingfleet, so Sydenham went with Parliament +against Charles, and was never admitted a Fellow by the College of +Physicians, which, after he was dead, placed his bust in their hall by +the side of that of Harvey. + +What Sydenham did for medicine was briefly this he studied the course of +diseases carefully, and especially as affected by the particular season; +to patients with fever he gave air and cooling drinks, instead of +smothering and heating them, with the idea of sweating out their disease; +he ordered horseback exercise to consumptives; he, like his teacher, used +few and comparatively simple remedies; he did not give any drug at all, +if he thought none was needed, but let well enough alone. He was a +sensible man, in short, who applied his common sense to diseases which he +had studied with the best light of science that he could obtain. + +The influence of the reform he introduced must have been more or less +felt in this country, but not much before the beginning of the eighteenth +century, as his great work was not published until 1675, and then in +Latin. I very strongly suspect that there was not so much to reform in +the simple practice of the physicians of the new community, as there was +in that of the learned big-wigs of the "College," who valued their +remedies too much in proportion to their complexity, and the extravagant +and fantastic ingredients which went to their making. + +During the memorable century which bred and bore the Revolution, the +medical profession gave great names to our history. But John Brooks +belonged to the State, and Joseph Warren belongs to the country and +mankind, and to speak of them would lead me beyond my limited--subject. +There would be little pleasure in dwelling on the name of Benjamin +Church; and as for the medical politicians, like Elisha Cooke in the +early part of the century, or Charles Jarvis, the bald eagle of Boston, +in its later years, whether their practice was heroic or not, their +patients were, for he is a bold man who trusts one that is making +speeches and coaxing voters, to meddle with the internal politics of his +corporeal republic. + +One great event stands out in the medical history of this eighteenth +century; namely, the introduction of the practice of inoculation for +small-pox. Six epidemics of this complaint had visited Boston in the +course of a hundred years. Prayers had been asked in the churches for +more than a hundred sick in a single day, and this many times. About a +thousand persons had died in a twelvemonth, we are told, and, as we may +infer, chiefly from this cause. + +In 1721, this disease, after a respite of nineteen years, again appeared +as an epidemic. In that year it was that Cotton Mather, browsing, as was +his wont, on all the printed fodder that came within reach of his +ever-grinding mandibles, came upon an account of inoculation as practised +in Turkey, contained in the "Philosophical Transactions." He spoke of it +to several physicians, who paid little heed to his story; for they knew +his medical whims, and had probably been bored, as we say now-a-days, +many of them, with listening to his "Angel of Bethesda," and satiated +with his speculations on the Nishmath Chajim. + +The Reverend Mather,--I use a mode of expression he often employed when +speaking of his honored brethren,--the Reverend Mather was right this +time, and the irreverent doctors who laughed at him were wrong. One only +of their number disputes his claim to giving the first impulse to the +practice, in Boston. This is what that person says: "The Small-Pox +spread in Boston, New England, A.1721, and the Reverend Dr. Cotton +Mather, having had the use of these Communications from Dr. William +Douglass (that is, the writer of these words); surreptitiously, without +the knowledge of his Informer, that he might have the honour of a New +fangled notion, sets an Undaunted Operator to work, and in this Country +about 290 were inoculated." + +All this has not deprived Cotton Mather of the credit of suggesting, and +a bold and intelligent physician of the honor of carrying out, the new +practice. On the twenty-seventh day of June, 1721, Zabdiel Boylston of +Boston inoculated his only son for smallpox,--the first person ever +submitted to the operation in the New World. The story of the fierce +resistance to the introduction of the practice; of how Boylston was +mobbed, and Mather had a hand-grenade thrown in at his window; of how +William Douglass, the Scotchman, "always positive, and sometimes +accurate," as was neatly said of him, at once depreciated the practice +and tried to get the credit of suggesting it, and how Lawrence Dalhonde, +the Frenchman, testified to its destructive consequences; of how Edmund +Massey, lecturer at St. Albans, preached against sinfully endeavoring to +alter the course of nature by presumptuous interposition, which he would +leave to the atheist and the scoffer, the heathen and unbeliever, while +in the face of his sermon, afterwards reprinted in Boston, many of our +New England clergy stood up boldly in defence of the practice,--all this +has been told so well and so often that I spare you its details. Set +this good hint of Cotton Mather against that letter of his to John +Richards, recommending the search after witch-marks, and the application +of the water-ordeal, which means throw your grandmother into the water, +if she has a mole on her arm;--if she swims, she is a witch and must be +hanged; if she sinks, the Lord have mercy on her soul! + +Thus did America receive this great discovery, destined to save thousands +of lives, via Boston, from the hands of one of our own Massachusetts +physicians. + +The year 1735 was rendered sadly memorable by the epidemic of the +terrible disease known as "throat distemper," and regarded by many as the +same as our "diphtheria." Dr. Holyoke thinks the more general use of +mercurials in inflammatory complaints dates from the time of their +employment in this disease, in which they were thought to have proved +specially useful. + +At some time in the course of this century medical practice had settled +down on four remedies as its chief reliance. I must repeat an incident +which I have related in another of these Essays. When Dr. Holyoke, +nearly seventy years ago, received young Mr. James Jackson as his +student, he showed him the formidable array of bottles, jars, and drawers +around his office, and then named the four remedies referred to as being +of more importance than all the rest put together. These were "Mercury, +Antimony, Opium, and Peruvian Bark." I doubt if either of them +remembered that, nearly seventy years before, in 1730, Dr. William +Douglass, the disputatious Scotchman, mentioned those same four remedies, +in the dedication of his quarrelsome essay on inoculation, as the most +important ones in the hands of the physicians of his time. + +In the "Proceedings" of this Society for the year 1863 is a very pleasant +paper by the late Dr. Ephraim Eliot, giving an account of the leading +physicians of Boston during the last quarter of the last century. The +names of Lloyd, Gardiner, Welsh, Rand, Bulfinch, Danforth, John Warren, +Jeffries, are all famous in local history, and are commemorated in our +medical biographies. One of them, at least, appears to have been more +widely known, not only as one of the first aerial voyagers, but as an +explorer in the almost equally hazardous realm of medical theory. Dr. +John Jeffries, the first of that name, is considered by Broussais as a +leader of medical opinion in America, and so referred to in his famous +"Examen des Doctrines Medicales." + +Two great movements took place in this eighteenth century, the effect of +which has been chiefly felt in our own time; namely, the establishment of +the Massachusetts Medical Society, and the founding of the Medical School +of Harvard University. + +The third century of our medical history began with the introduction of +the second great medical discovery of modern times,--of all time up to +that date, I may say,--once more via Boston, if we count the University +village as its suburb, and once more by one of our Massachusetts +physicians. In the month of July, 1800, Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse of +Cambridge submitted four of his own children to the new process of +vaccination,--the first persons vaccinated, as Dr. Zabdiel Boylston's son +had been the first person inoculated in the New World. + +A little before the first half of this century was completed, in the +autumn of 1846, the great discovery went forth from the Massachusetts +General Hospital, which repaid the debt of America to the science of the +Old World, and gave immortality to the place of its origin in the memory +and the heart of mankind. The production of temporary insensibility at +will--tuto, cito, jucunde, safely, quickly, pleasantly--is one of those +triumphs over the infirmities of our mortal condition which change the +aspect of life ever afterwards. Rhetoric can add nothing to its glory; +gratitude, and the pride permitted to human weakness, that our Bethlehem +should have been chosen as the birthplace of this new embodiment of the +divine mercy, are all we can yet find room for. + +The present century has seen the establishment of all those great +charitable institutions for the cure of diseases of the body and of the +mind, which our State and our city have a right to consider as among the +chief ornaments of their civilization. + +The last century had very little to show, in our State, in the way of +medical literature. The worthies who took care of our grandfathers and +great-grandfathers, like the Revolutionary heroes, fought (with disease) +and bled (their patients) and died (in spite of their own remedies); but +their names, once familiar, are heard only at rare intervals. Honored in +their day, not unremembered by a few solitary students of the past, their +memories are going sweetly to sleep in the arms of the patient old +dry-nurse, whose "blackdrop" is the never-failing anodyne of the restless +generations of men. Except the lively controversy on inoculation, and +floating papers in journals, we have not much of value for that long +period, in the shape of medical records. + +But while the trouble with the last century is to find authors to +mention, the trouble of this would be to name all that we find. Of +these, a very few claim unquestioned preeminence. + +Nathan Smith, born in Rehoboth, Mass., a graduate of the Medical School +of our University, did a great work for the advancement of medicine and +surgery in New England, by his labors as teacher and author, greater, it +is claimed by some, than was ever done by any other man. The two +Warrens, of our time, each left a large and permanent record of a most +extended surgical practice. James Jackson not only educated a whole +generation by his lessons of wisdom, but bequeathed some of the most +valuable results of his experience to those who came after him, in a +series of letters singularly pleasant and kindly as well as instructive. +John Ware, keen and cautious, earnest and deliberate, wrote the two +remarkable essays which have identified his name, for all time, with two +important diseases, on which he has shed new light by his original +observations. + +I must do violence to the modesty of the living by referring to the many +important contributions to medical science by Dr. Jacob Bigelow, and +especially to his discourse on "Self-limited Diseases," an address which +can be read in a single hour, but the influence of which will be felt for +a century. + +Nor would the profession forgive me if I forgot to mention the admirable +museum of pathological anatomy, created almost entirely by the hands of +Dr. John Barnard Swett Jackson, and illustrated by his own printed +descriptive catalogue, justly spoken of by a distinguished professor in +the University of Pennsylvania as the most important contribution which +had ever been made in this country to the branch to which it relates. + +When we look at the literature of mental disease, as seen in hospital +reports and special treatises, we can mention the names of Wyman, +Woodward, Brigham, Bell, and Ray, all either natives of Massachusetts or +placed at the head of her institutions for the treatment of the insane. + +We have a right to claim also one who is known all over the civilized +world as a philanthropist, to us as a townsman and a graduate of our own +Medical School, Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe, the guide and benefactor of a +great multitude who were born to a world of inward or of outward +darkness. + +I cannot pass over in silence the part taken by our own physicians in +those sanitary movements which are assuming every year greater +importance. Two diseases especially have attracted attention, above all +others, with reference to their causes and prevention; cholera, the +"black death" of the nineteenth century, and consumption, the white +plague of the North, both of which have been faithfully studied and +reported on by physicians of our own State and city. The cultivation of +medical and surgical specialties, which is fast becoming prevalent, is +beginning to show its effects in the literature of the profession, which +is every year growing richer in original observations and investigations. + +To these benefactors who have labored for us in their peaceful vocation, +we must add the noble army of surgeons, who went with the soldiers who +fought the battles of their country, sharing many of their dangers, not +rarely falling victims to fatigue, disease, or the deadly volleys to +which they often exposed themselves in the discharge of their duties. + +The pleasant biographies of the venerable Dr. Thacher, and the worthy and +kind-hearted gleaner, Dr. Stephen W. Williams, who came after him, are +filled with the names of men who served their generation well, and rest +from their labors, followed by the blessing of those for whom they +endured the toils and fatigues inseparable from their calling. The +hardworking, intelligent country physician more especially deserves the +gratitude of his own generation, for he rarely leaves any permanent +record in the literature of his profession. Books are hard to obtain; +hospitals, which are always centres of intelligence, are remote; +thoroughly educated and superior men are separated by wide intervals; and +long rides, though favorable to reflection, take up much of the time +which might otherwise be given to the labors of the study. So it is that +men of ability and vast experience, like the late Dr. Twitchell, for +instance, make a great and deserved reputation, become the oracles of +large districts, and yet leave nothing, or next to nothing, by which +their names shall be preserved from blank oblivion. + +One or two other facts deserve mention, as showing the readiness of our +medical community to receive and adopt any important idea or discovery. +The new science of Histology, as it is now called, was first brought +fully before the profession of this country by the translation of +Bichat's great work, "Anatomie Generale," by the late Dr. George Hayward. + +The first work printed in this country on Auscultation,--that wonderful +art of discovering disease, which, as it were, puts a window in the +breast, through which the vital organs can be seen, to all intents and +purposes, was the manual published anonymously by "A Member of the +Massachusetts Medical Society." + +We are now in some slight measure prepared to weigh the record of the +medical profession in Massachusetts, and pass our judgment upon it. But +in-order to do justice to the first generation of practitioners, we must +compare what we know of their treatment of disease with the state of the +art in England, and the superstitions which they saw all around them in +other departments of knowledge or belief. + +English medical literature must have been at a pretty low ebb when +Sydenham recommended Don Quixote to Sir Richard Blackmore for +professional reading. The College Pharmacopoeia was loaded with the most +absurd compound mixtures, one of the most complex of which (the same +which the Reverend Mr. Harward, "Lecturer at the Royal Chappel in +Boston," tried to simplify), was not dropped until the year 1801. Sir +Kenelm Digby was playing his fantastic tricks with the Sympathetic +powder, and teaching Governor Winthrop, the second, how to cure fever and +ague, which some may like to know. "Pare the patient's nails; put the +parings in a little bag, and hang the bag round the neck of a live eel, +and put him in a tub of water. The eel will die, and the patient will +recover." + +Wiseman, the great surgeon, was discoursing eloquently on the efficacy of +the royal touch in scrofula. The founder of the Ashmolean Museum at +Oxford, consorting with alchemists and astrologers, was treasuring the +manuscripts of the late pious Dr. Richard Napier, in which certain +letters (Rx Ris) were understood to mean Responsum Raphaelis,--the answer +of the angel Raphael to the good man's medical questions. The +illustrious Robert Boyle was making his collection of choice and safe +remedies, including the sole of an old shoe, the thigh bone of a hanged +man, and things far worse than these, as articles of his materia medica. +Dr. Stafford, whose paper of directions to his "friend, Mr. Wintrop," I +cited, was probably a man of standing in London; yet toad-powder was his +sovereign remedy. + +See what was the state of belief in other matters among the most +intelligent persons of the colonies, magistrates and clergymen. Jonathan +Brewster, son of the church-elder, writes the wildest letters to John +Winthrop about alchemy,--"mad for making gold as the Lynn rock-borers are +for finding it." + +Remember the theology and the diabology of the time. Mr. Cotton's +Theocracy was a royal government, with the King of kings as its nominal +head, but with an upper chamber of saints, and a tremendous opposition in +the lower house; the leader of which may have been equalled, but cannot +have been surpassed by any of our earth-born politicians. The demons +were prowling round the houses every night, as the foxes were sneaking +about the hen-roosts. The men of Gloucester fired whole flasks of +gunpowder at devils disguised as Indians and Frenchmen. + +How deeply the notion of miraculous interference with the course of +nature was rooted, is shown by the tenacity of the superstition about +earthquakes. We can hardly believe that our Professor Winthrop, father +of the old judge and the "squire," whom many of us Cambridge people +remember so well, had to defend himself against the learned and excellent +Dr. Prince, of the Old South Church, for discussing their phenomena as if +they belonged to the province of natural science: + +Not for the sake of degrading the aspect of the noble men who founded our +State, do I refer to their idle beliefs and painful delusions, but to +show against what influences the common sense of the medical profession +had to assert itself. + +Think, then, of the blazing stars, that shook their horrid hair in the +sky; the phantom ship, that brought its message direct from the other +world; the story of the mouse and the snake at Watertown; of the mice +and the prayer-book; of the snake in church; of the calf with two heads; +and of the cabbage in the perfect form of a cutlash,--all which innocent +occurrences were accepted or feared as alarming portents. + +We can smile at these: but we cannot smile at the account of unhappy Mary +Dyer's malformed offspring; or of Mrs. Hutchinson's domestic misfortune +of similar character, in the story of which the physician, Dr. John Clark +of Rhode Island, alone appears to advantage; or as we read the Rev. +Samuel Willard's fifteen alarming pages about an unfortunate young woman +suffering with hysteria. Or go a little deeper into tragedy, and see +poor Dorothy Talby, mad as Ophelia, first admonished, then whipped; at +last, taking her own little daughter's life; put on trial, and standing +mute, threatened to be pressed to death, confessing, sentenced, praying +to be beheaded; and none the less pitilessly swung from the fatal ladder. + +The cooper's crazy wife--crazy in the belief that she has committed the +unpardonable sin--tries to drown her child, to save it from misery; and +the poor lunatic, who would be tenderly cared for to-day in a quiet +asylum, is judged to be acting under the instigation of Satan himself. +Yet, after all, what can we say, who put Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," +full of nightmare dreams of horror, into all our children's hands; a +story in which the awful image of the man in the cage might well turn the +nursery where it is read into a madhouse? + +The miserable delusion of witchcraft illustrates, in a still more +impressive way, the false ideas which governed the supposed relation of +men with the spiritual world. I have no doubt many physicians shared in +these superstitions. Mr. Upham says they--that is, some of them--were in +the habit of attributing their want of success to the fact, that an "evil +hand" was on their patient. The temptation was strong, no doubt, when +magistrates and ministers and all that followed their lead were contented +with such an explanation. But how was it in Salem, according to Mr. +Upham's own statement? Dr. John Swinnerton was, he says, for many years +the principal physician of Salem. And he says, also, "The Swinnerton +family were all along opposed to Mr. Parris, and kept remarkably clear +from the witchcraft delusion." Dr. John Swinnerton--the same, by the +way, whose memory is illuminated by a ray from the genius of +Hawthorne--died the very year before the great witchcraft explosion took +place. But who can doubt that it was from him that the family had +learned to despise and to resist the base superstition; or that Bridget +Bishop, whose house he rented, as Mr. Upham tells me, the first person +hanged in the time of the delusion, would have found an efficient +protector in her tenant, had he been living, to head the opposition of +his family to the misguided clergymen and magistrates? + +I cannot doubt that our early physicians brought with them many Old-World +medical superstitions, and I have no question that they were more or less +involved in the prevailing errors of the community in which they lived. +But, on the whole, their record is a clean one, so far as we can get at +it; and where it is questionable we must remember that there must have +been many little-educated persons among them; and that all must have +felt, to some extent, the influence of those sincere and devoted but +unsafe men, the physic-practising clergymen, who often used spiritual +means as a substitute for temporal ones, who looked upon a hysteric +patient as possessed by the devil, and treated a fractured skull by +prayers and plasters, following the advice of a ruling elder in +opposition to the "unanimous opinion of seven surgeons." + +To what results the union of the two professions was liable to lead, may +be seen by the example of a learned and famous person, who has left on +record the product of his labors in the double capacity of clergyman and +physician. + +I have had the privilege of examining a manuscript of Cotton Mather's +relating to medicine, by the kindness of the librarian of the American +Antiquarian Society, to which society it belongs. A brief notice of this +curious document may prove not uninteresting. + +It is entitled "The Angel of Bethesda: an Essay upon the Common Maladies +of Mankind, offering, first, the sentiments of Piety," etc., etc., and "a +collection of plain but potent and Approved REMEDIES for the Maladies." +There are sixty-six "Capsula's," as he calls them, or chapters, in his +table of contents; of which, five--from the fifteenth to the nineteenth, +inclusive--are missing. This is a most unfortunate loss, as the +eighteenth capsula treated of agues, and we could have learned from it +something of their degree of frequency in this part of New England. +There is no date to the manuscript; which, however, refers to a case +observed Nov. 14, 1724. + +The divine takes precedence of the physician in this extraordinary +production. He begins by preaching a sermon at his unfortunate patient. +Having thrown him into a cold sweat by his spiritual sudorific, he +attacks him with his material remedies, which are often quite as +unpalatable. The simple and cleanly practice of Sydenham, with whose +works he was acquainted, seems to have been thrown away upon him. +Everything he could find mentioned in the seventy or eighty authors he +cites, all that the old women of both sexes had ever told him of, gets +into his text, or squeezes itself into his margin. + +Evolving disease out of sin, he hates it, one would say, as he hates its +cause, and would drive it out of the body with all noisome appliances. +"Sickness is in Fact Flagellum Dei pro peccatis mundi." So saying, he +encourages the young mother whose babe is wasting away upon her breast +with these reflections: + +"Think; oh the grievous Effects of Sin! This wretched Infant has not +arrived unto years of sense enough, to sin after the similitude of the +transgression committed by Adam. Nevertheless the Transgression of Adam, +who had all mankind Foederally, yea, Naturally, in him, has involved this +Infant in the guilt of it. And the poison of the old serpent, which +infected Adam when he fell into his Transgression, by hearkening to the +Tempter, has corrupted all mankind, and is a seed unto such diseases as +this Infant is now laboring under. Lord, what are we, and what are our +children, but a Generation of Vipers?" + +Many of his remedies are at least harmless, but his pedantry and utter +want of judgment betray themselves everywhere. He piles his +prescriptions one upon another, without the least discrimination. He is +run away with by all sorts of fancies and superstitions. He prescribes +euphrasia, eye-bright, for disease of the eyes; appealing confidently to +the strange old doctrine of signatures, which inferred its use from the +resemblance of its flower to the organ of vision. For the scattering of +wens, the efficacy of a Dead Hand has been out of measure wonderful. +But when he once comes to the odious class of remedies, he revels in them +like a scarabeus. This allusion will bring us quite near enough to the +inconceivable abominations with which he proposed to outrage the sinful +stomachs of the unhappy confederates and accomplices of Adam. + +It is well that the treatise was never printed, yet there are passages in +it worth preserving. He speaks of some remedies which have since become +more universally known: + +"Among the plants of our soyl, Sir William Temple singles out Five [Six] +as being of the greatest virtue and most friendly to health: and his +favorite plants, Sage, Rue, Saffron, Alehoof, Garlick, and Elder." + +"But these Five [Six] plants may admitt of some competitors. The +QUINQUINA--How celebrated: Immoderately, Hyperbolically celebrated!" + +Of Ipecacuanha, he says,--"This is now in its reign; the most +fashionable vomit." + +"I am not sorry that antimonial emetics begin to be disused." + +He quotes "Mr. Lock" as recommending red poppy-water and abstinence from +flesh as often useful in children's diseases. + +One of his "Capsula's" is devoted to the animalcular origin of diseases, +at the end of which he says, speaking of remedies for this supposed +source of our distempers: + +"Mercury we know thee: But we are afraid thou wilt kill us too, if we +employ thee to kill them that kill us. + +"And yett, for the cleansing of the small Blood Vessels, and making way +for the free circulation of the Blood and Lymph--there is nothing like +Mercurial Deobstruents." + +From this we learn that mercury was already in common use, and the +subject of the same popular prejudice as in our own time. + +His poetical turn shows itself here and there: + +"O Nightingale, with a Thorn at thy Breast; Under the trouble of a Cough, +what can be more proper than such thoughts as these?"... + +If there is pathos in this, there is bathos in his apostrophe to the +millipede, beginning "Poor sowbug!" and eulogizing the healing virtues of +that odious little beast; of which he tells us to take "half a pound, +putt 'em alive into a quart or two of wine," with saffron and other +drugs, and take two ounces twice a day. + +The "Capsula" entitled "Nishmath Chajim" was printed in 1722, at New +London, and is in the possession of our own Society. He means, by these +words, something like the Archxus of Van Helmont, of which he discourses +in a style wonderfully resembling that of Mr. Jenkinson in the "Vicar of +Wakefield." "Many of the Ancients thought there was much of a Real +History in the Parable, and their Opinion was that there is, DIAPHORA +KATA TAS MORPHAS, A Distinction (and so a Resemblance) of men as to their +Shapes after Death." And so on, with Ireaeus, Tertullian, Thespesius, +and "the TA TONE PSEUCONE CROMATA," in the place of "Sanconiathon, +Manetho, Berosus," and "Anarchon ara kai ateleutaion to pan." + +One other passage deserves notice, as it relates to the single medical +suggestion which does honor to Cotton Mather's memory. It does not +appear that he availed himself of the information which he says, he +obtained from his slave, for such I suppose he was. + +In his appendix to "Variolae Triumphatae," he says,-- + +"There has been a wonderful practice lately used in several parts of the +world, which indeed is not yet become common in our nation. + +"I was first informed of it by a Garamantee servant of my own, long +before I knew that any Europeans or Asiaticks had the least acquaintance +with it, and some years before I was enriched with the communications of +the learned Foreigners, whose accounts I found agreeing with what I +received of my servant, when he shewed me the Scar of the Wound made for +the operation; and said, That no person ever died of the smallpox, in +their countrey, that had the courage to use it. + +"I have since met with a considerable Number of these Africans, who all +agree in one story; That in their countrey grandy-many dy of the +small-pox: But now they learn this way: people take juice of smallpox and +cutty-skin and put in a Drop; then by'nd by a little sicky, sicky: then +very few little things like small-pox; and nobody dy of it; and nobody +have small-pox any more. Thus, in Africa, where the poor creatures dy of +the smallpox like Rotten Sheep, a merciful God has taught them an +Infallible preservative. 'T is a common practice, and is attended with a +constant success." + +What has come down to us of the first century of medical practice, in the +hands of Winthrop and Oliver, is comparatively simple and reasonable. I +suspect that the conditions of rude, stern life, in which the colonists +found themselves in the wilderness, took the nonsense out of them, as the +exigencies of a campaign did out of our physicians and surgeons in the +late war. Good food and enough of it, pure air and water, cleanliness, +good attendance, an anaesthetic, an opiate, a stimulant, quinine, and two +or three common drugs, proved to be the marrow of medical treatment; and +the fopperies of the pharmacopoeia went the way of embroidered shirts and +white kid gloves and malacca joints, in their time of need. "Good wine +is the best cordiall for her," said Governor John Winthrop, Junior, to +Samuel Symonds, speaking of that gentleman's wife,--just as Sydenham, +instead of physic, once ordered a roast chicken and a pint of canary for +his patient in male hysterics. + +But the profession of medicine never could reach its full development +until it became entirely separated from that of divinity. The spiritual +guide, the consoler in affliction, the confessor who is admitted into the +secrets of our souls, has his own noble sphere of duties; but the healer +of men must confine himself solely to the revelations of God in nature, +as he sees their miracles with his own eyes. No doctrine of prayer or +special providence is to be his excuse for not looking straight at +secondary causes, and acting, exactly so far as experience justifies him, +as if he were himself the divine agent which antiquity fabled him to be. +While pious men were praying--humbly, sincerely, rightly, according to +their knowledge--over the endless succession of little children dying of +spasms in the great Dublin Hospital, a sagacious physician knocked some +holes in the walls of the ward, let God's blessed air in on the little +creatures, and so had already saved in that single hospital, as it was +soberly calculated thirty years ago, more than sixteen thousand lives of +these infant heirs of immortality. [Collins's Midwifery, p. 312. +Published by order of the Massachusetts Medical Society. Boston, 1841.] + +Let it be, if you will, that the wise inspiration of the physician was +granted in virtue of the clergyman's supplications. Still, the habit of +dealing with things seen generates another kind of knowledge, and another +way of thought, from that of dealing with things unseen; which knowledge +and way of thought are special means granted by Providence, and to be +thankfully accepted. + +The mediaeval ecclesiastics expressed a great truth in that saying, so +often quoted, as carrying a reproach with it: "Ubi tres medici, duo +athei,"--"Where there are three physicians, there are two atheists." + +It was true then, it is true to-day, that the physician very commonly, if +not very generally, denies and repudiates the deity of ecclesiastical +commerce. The Being whom Ambroise Pare meant when he spoke those +memorable words, which you may read over the professor's chair in the +French School of Medicine, "Te le pensay, et Dieu le guarit," "I dressed +his wound, and God healed it,"--is a different being from the God that +scholastic theologians have projected from their consciousness, or shaped +even from the sacred pages which have proved so plastic in their hands. +He is a God who never leaves himself without witness, who repenteth him +of the evil, who never allows a disease or an injury, compatible with the +enjoyment of life, to take its course without establishing an effort, +limited by certain fixed conditions, it is true, but an effort, always, +to restore the broken body or the shattered mind. In the perpetual +presence of this great Healing Agent, who stays the bleeding of wounds, +who knits the fractured bone, who expels the splinter by a gentle natural +process, who walls in the inflammation that might involve the vital +organs, who draws a cordon to separate the dead part from the living, who +sends his three natural anaesthetics to the over-tasked frame in due +order, according to its need,--sleep, fainting, death; in this perpetual +presence, it is doubtless hard for the physician to realize the +theological fact of a vast and permanent sphere of the universe, where no +organ finds itself in its natural medium, where no wound heals kindly, +where the executive has abrogated the pardoning power, and mercy forgets +its errand; where the omnipotent is unfelt save in malignant agencies, +and the omnipresent is unseen and unrepresented; hard to accept the God +of Dante's "Inferno," and of Bunyan's caged lunatic. If this is atheism, +call three, instead of two of the trio, atheists, and it will probably +come nearer the truth. + +I am not disposed to deny the occasional injurious effect of the +materializing influences to which the physician is subjected. A spiritual +guild is absolutely necessary to keep him, to keep us all, from becoming +the "fingering slaves" that Wordsworth treats with such shrivelling +scorn. But it is well that the two callings have been separated, and it +is fitting that they remain apart. In settling the affairs of the late +concern, I am afraid our good friends remain a little in our debt. We +lent them our physician Michael Servetus in fair condition, and they +returned him so damaged by fire as to be quite useless for our purposes. +Their Reverend Samuel Willard wrote us a not over-wise report of a case +of hysteria; and our Jean Astruc gave them (if we may trust Dr. Smith's +Dictionary of the Bible) the first discerning criticism on the authorship +of the Pentateuch. Our John Locke enlightened them with his letters +concerning toleration; and their Cotton Mather obscured our twilight with +his "Nishmath Chajim." + +Yet we must remember that the name of Basil Valentine, the monk, is +associated with whatever good and harm we can ascribe to antimony; and +that the most remarkable of our specifics long bore the name of "Jesuit's +Bark," from an old legend connected with its introduction. "Frere +Jacques," who taught the lithotomists of Paris, owes his ecclesiastical +title to courtesy, as he did not belong to a religious order. + +Medical science, and especially the study of mental disease, is destined, +I believe, to react to much greater advantage on the theology of the +future than theology has acted on medicine in the past. The liberal +spirit very generally prevailing in both professions, and the good +understanding between their most enlightened members, promise well for +the future of both in a community which holds every point of human +belief, every institution in human hands, and every word written in a +human dialect, open to free discussion today, to-morrow, and to the end +of time. Whether the world at large will ever be cured of trusting to +specifics as a substitute for observing the laws of health, and to +mechanical or intellectual formula as a substitute for character, may +admit of question. Quackery and idolatry are all but immortal. + +We can find most of the old beliefs alive amongst us to-day, only having +changed their dresses and the social spheres in which they thrive. We +think the quarrels of Galenists and chemists belong to the past, +forgetting that Thomsonism has its numerous apostles in our community; +that it is common to see remedies vaunted as purely vegetable, and that +the prejudice against "mineral poisons," especially mercury, is as strong +in many quarters now as it was at the beginning of the seventeenth +century. Names are only air, and blow away with a change of wind; but +beliefs are rooted in human wants and weakness, and die hard. The oaks +of Dodona are prostrate, and the shrine of Delphi is desolate; but the +Pythoness and the Sibyl may be consulted in Lowell Street for a very +moderate compensation. Nostradamus and Lilly seem impossible in our time; +but we have seen the advertisements of an astrologer in our Boston papers +year after year, which seems to imply that he found believers and +patrons. You smiled when I related Sir Kenelm Digby's prescription with +the live eel in it; but if each of you were to empty his or her pockets, +would there not roll out, from more than one of them, a horse-chestnut, +carried about as a cure for rheumatism? The brazen head of Roger Bacon +is mute; but is not "Planchette" uttering her responses in a hundred +houses of this city? We think of palmistry or chiromancy as belonging to +the days of Albertus Magnus, or, if existing in our time, as given over +to the gypsies; but a very distinguished person has recently shown me the +line of life, and the line of fortune, on the palm of his hand, with a +seeming confidence in the sanguine predictions of his career which had +been drawn from them. What shall we say of the plausible and +well-dressed charlatans of our own time, who trade in false pretences, +like Nicholas Knapp of old, but without any fear of being fined or +whipped; or of the many follies and inanities, imposing on the credulous +part of the community, each of them gaping with eager, open mouth for a +gratuitous advertisement by the mention of its foolish name in any +respectable connection? + +I turn from this less pleasing aspect of the common intelligence which +renders such follies possible, to close the honorable record of the +medical profession in this, our ancient Commonwealth. + +We have seen it in the first century divided among clergymen, +magistrates, and regular practitioners; yet, on the whole, for the time, +and under the circumstances, respectable, except where it invoked +supernatural agencies to account for natural phenomena. + +In the second century it simplified its practice, educated many +intelligent practitioners, and began the work of organizing for concerted +action, and for medical teaching. + +In this, our own century, it has built hospitals, perfected and +multiplied its associations and educational institutions, enlarged and +created museums, and challenged a place in the world of science by its +literature. + +In reviewing the whole course of its history we read a long list of +honored names, and a precious record written in private memories, in +public charities, in permanent contributions to medical science, in +generous sacrifices for the country. We can point to our capital as the +port of entry for the New World of the great medical discoveries of two +successive centuries, and we can claim for it the triumph over the most +dreaded foe that assails the human body,--a triumph which the annals of +the race can hardly match in three thousand years of medical history. + + + + +THE YOUNG PRACTITIONER + +[A Valedictory Address delivered to the Graduating Class of the Bellevue +Hospital College, March 2, 1871.] + +The occasion which calls us together reminds us not a little of that +other ceremony which unites a man and woman for life. The banns have +already been pronounced which have wedded our young friends to the +profession of their choice. It remains only to address to them some +friendly words of cheering counsel, and to bestow upon them the parting +benediction. + +This is not the time for rhetorical display or ambitious eloquence. We +must forget ourselves, and think only of them. To us it is an occasion; +to them it is an epoch. The spectators at the wedding look curiously at +the bride and bridegroom; at the bridal veil, the orange-flower garland, +the giving and receiving of the ring; they listen for the tremulous "I +will," and wonder what are the mysterious syllables the clergyman +whispers in the ear of the married maiden. But to the newly-wedded pair +what meaning in those words, "for better, for worse," "in sickness and in +health," "till death us do part!" To the father, to the mother, who know +too well how often the deadly nightshade is interwoven with the wreath of +orange-blossoms, how empty the pageant, how momentous the reality! + +You will not wonder that I address myself chiefly to those who are just +leaving academic life for the sterner struggle and the larger tasks of +matured and instructed manhood. The hour belongs to them; if others find +patience to listen, they will kindly remember that, after all, they are +but as the spectators at the wedding, and that the priest is thinking +less of them than of their friends who are kneeling at the altar. + +I speak more directly to you, then, gentlemen of the graduating class. +The days of your education, as pupils of trained instructors, are over. +Your first harvest is all garnered. Henceforth you are to be sowers as +well as reapers, and your field is the world. How does your knowledge +stand to-day? What have you gained as a permanent possession? What must +you expect to forget? What remains for you yet to learn? These are +questions which it may interest you to consider. + +There is another question which must force itself on the thoughts of many +among you: "How am I to obtain patients and to keep their confidence?" +You have chosen a laborious calling, and made many sacrifices to fit +yourselves for its successful pursuit. You wish to be employed that you +may be useful, and that you may receive the reward of your industry. I +would take advantage of these most receptive moments to give you some +hints which may help you to realize your hopes and expectations. Such is +the outline of the familiar talk I shall offer you. + +Your acquaintance with some of the accessory branches is probably greater +now than it will be in a year from now,--much greater than it will by ten +years from now. The progress of knowledge, it may be feared, or hoped, +will have outrun the text-books in which you studied these branches. +Chemistry, for instance, is very apt to spoil on one's hands. "Nous +avons change tout cela" might serve as the standing motto of many of our +manuals. Science is a great traveller, and wears her shoes out pretty +fast, as might be expected. + +You are now fresh from the lecture-room and the laboratory. You can pass +an examination in anatomy, physiology, chemistry, materia medica, which +the men in large practice all around you would find a more potent +sudorific than any in the Pharmacopceia. These masters of the art of +healing were once as ready with their answers as you are now, but they +have got rid of a great deal of the less immediately practical part of +their acquisitions, and you must undergo the same depleting process. +Hard work will train it off, as sharp exercise trains off the fat of a +prize-fighter. + +Yet, pause a moment before you infer that your teachers must have been in +fault when they furnished you with mental stores not directly convertible +to practical purposes, and likely in a few years to lose their place in +your memory. All systematic knowledge involves much that is not +practical, yet it is the only kind of knowledge which satisfies the mind, +and systematic study proves, in the long-run, the easiest way of +acquiring and retaining facts which are practical. There are many things +which we can afford to forget, which yet it was well to learn. Your +mental condition is not the same as if you had never known what you now +try in vain to recall. There is a perpetual metempsychosis of thought, +and the knowledge of to-day finds a soil in the forgotten facts of +yesterday. You cannot see anything in the new season of the guano you +placed last year about the roots of your climbing plants, but it is +blushing and breathing fragrance in your trellised roses; it has scaled +your porch in the bee-haunted honey-suckle; it has found its way where +the ivy is green; it is gone where the woodbine expands its luxuriant +foliage. + +Your diploma seems very broad to-day with your list of accomplishments, +but it begins to shrink from this hour like the Peau de Chagrin of +Balzac's story. Do not worry about it, for all the while there will be +making out for you an ampler and fairer parchment, signed by old Father +Time himself as President of that great University in which experience is +the one perpetual and all-sufficient professor. + +Your present plethora of acquirements will soon cure itself. Knowledge +that is not wanted dies out like the eyes of the fishes of the Mammoth +Cave. When you come to handle life and death as your daily business, +your memory will of itself bid good-by to such inmates as the well-known +foramina of the sphenoid bone and the familiar oxides of +methyl-ethylamyl-phenyl-ammonium. Be thankful that you have once known +them, and remember that even the learned ignorance of a nomenclature is +something to have mastered, and may furnish pegs to hang facts upon which +would otherwise have strewed the floor of memory in loose disorder. + +But your education has, after all, been very largely practical. You have +studied medicine and surgery, not chiefly in books, but at the bedside +and in the operating amphitheatre. It is the special advantage of large +cities that they afford the opportunity of seeing a great deal of disease +in a short space of time, and of seeing many cases of the same kind of +disease brought together. Let us not be unjust to the claims of the +schools remote from the larger centres of population. Who among us has +taught better than Nathan Smith, better than Elisha Bartlett? who teaches +better than some of our living contemporaries who divide their time +between city and country schools? I am afraid we do not always do +justice to our country brethren, whose merits are less conspicuously +exhibited than those of the great city physicians and surgeons, such +especially as have charge of large hospitals. There are modest +practitioners living in remote rural districts who are gifted by nature +with such sagacity and wisdom, trained so well in what is most essential +to the practice of their art, taught so thoroughly by varied experience, +forced to such manly self-reliance by their comparative isolation, that, +from converse with them alone, from riding with them on their long rounds +as they pass from village to village, from talking over cases with them, +putting up their prescriptions, watching their expedients, listening to +their cautions, marking the event of their predictions, hearing them tell +of their mistakes, and now and then glory a little in the detection of +another's blunder, a young man would find himself better fitted for his +real work than many who have followed long courses of lectures and passed +a showy examination. But the young man is exceptionally fortunate who +enjoys the intimacy of such a teacher. And it must be confessed that the +great hospitals, infirmaries, and dispensaries of large cities, where men +of well-sifted reputations are in constant attendance, are the true +centres of medical education. No students, I believe, are more +thoroughly aware of this than those who have graduated at this +institution. Here, as in all our larger city schools, the greatest pains +are taken to teach things as well as names. You have entered into the +inheritance of a vast amount of transmitted skill and wisdom, which you +have taken, warm, as it were, with the life of your well-schooled +instructors. You have not learned all that art has to teach you, but you +are safer practitioners to-day than were many of those whose names we +hardly mention without a genuflection. I had rather be cared for in a +fever by the best-taught among you than by the renowned Fernelius or the +illustrious Boerhaave, could they come back to us from that better world +where there are no physicians needed, and, if the old adage can be +trusted, not many within call. I had rather have one of you exercise his +surgical skill upon me than find myself in the hands of a resuscitated +Fabricius Hildanus, or even of a wise Ambroise Pare, revisiting earth in +the light of the nineteenth century. + +You will not accuse me of underrating your accomplishments. You know +what to do for a child in a fit, for an alderman in an apoplexy, for a +girl that has fainted, for a woman in hysterics, for a leg that is +broken, for an arm that is out of joint, for fevers of every color, for +the sailor's rheumatism, and the tailor's cachexy. In fact you do really +know so much at this very hour, that nothing but the searching test of +time can fully teach you the limitations of your knowledge. + +Of some of these you will permit me to remind you. You will never have +outgrown the possibility of new acquisitions, for Nature is endless in +her variety. But even the knowledge which you may be said to possess +will be a different thing after long habit has made it a part of your +existence. The tactus eruditus extends to the mind as well as to the +finger-ends. Experience means the knowledge gained by habitual trial, +and an expert is one who has been in the habit of trying. This is the +kind of knowledge that made Ulysses wise in the ways of men. Many cities +had he seen, and known the minds of those who dwelt in them. This +knowledge it was that Chaucer's Shipman brought home with him from the +sea-- + + "In many a tempest had his berd be shake." + +This is the knowledge we place most confidence in, in the practical +affairs of life. + +Our training has two stages. The first stage deals with our +intelligence, which takes the idea of what is to be done with the most +charming ease and readiness. Let it be a game of billiards, for +instance, which the marker is going to teach us. We have nothing to do +but to make this ball glance from that ball and hit that other ball, and +to knock that ball with this ball into a certain caecal sacculus or +diverticulum which our professional friend calls a pocket. Nothing can +be clearer; it is as easy as "playing upon this pipe," for which Hamlet +gives Guildenstern such lucid directions. But this intelligent Me, who +steps forward as the senior partner in our dual personality, turns out to +be a terrible bungler. He misses those glancing hits which the +hard-featured young professional person calls "carroms," and insists on +pocketing his own ball instead of the other one. + +It is the unintelligent Me, stupid as an idiot, that has to try a thing a +thousand times before he can do it, and then never knows how he does it, +that at last does it well. We have to educate ourselves through the +pretentious claims of intellect, into the humble accuracy of instinct, +and we end at last by acquiring the dexterity, the perfection, the +certainty, which those masters of arts, the bee and the spider, inherit +from Nature. + +Book-knowledge, lecture-knowledge, examination-knowledge, are all in the +brain. But work-knowledge is not only in the brain, it is in the senses, +in the muscles, in the ganglia of the sympathetic nerves,--all over the +man, as one may say, as instinct seems diffused through every part of +those lower animals that have no such distinct organ as a brain. See a +skilful surgeon handle a broken limb; see a wise old physician smile away +a case that looks to a novice as if the sexton would soon be sent for; +mark what a large experience has done for those who were fitted to profit +by it, and you will feel convinced that, much as you know, something is +still left for you to learn. + +May I venture to contrast youth and experience in medical practice, +something in the way the man painted the lion, that is, the lion under? + +The young man knows the rules, but the old man knows-the exceptions. The +young man knows his patient, but the old man knows also his patient's +family, dead and alive, up and down for generations. He can tell +beforehand what diseases their unborn children will be subject to, what +they will die of if they live long enough, and whether they had better +live at all, or remain unrealized possibilities, as belonging to a stock +not worth being perpetuated. The young man feels uneasy if he is not +continually doing something to stir up his patient's internal +arrangements. The old man takes things more quietly, and is much more +willing to let well enough alone: All these superiorities, if such they +are,'you must wait for time to bring you. In the meanwhile (if we will +let the lion be uppermost for a moment), the young man's senses are +quicker than those of his older rival. His education in all the +accessory branches is more recent, and therefore nearer the existing +condition of knowledge. He finds it easier than his seniors to accept +the improvements which every year is bringing forward. New ideas build +their nests in young men's brains. "Revolutions are not made by men in +spectacles," as I once heard it remarked, and the first whispers of a new +truth are not caught by those who begin to feel the need of an +ear-trumpet. Granting all these advantages to the young man, he ought, +nevertheless, to go on improving, on the whole, as a medical +practitioner, with every year, until he has ripened into a well-mellowed +maturity. But, to improve, he must be good for something at the start. +If you ship a poor cask of wine to India and back, if you keep it a half +a century, it only grows thinner and sharper. + +You are soon to enter into relations with the public, to expend your +skill and knowledge for its benefit, and find your support in the rewards +of your labor. What kind of a constituency is this which is to look to +you as its authorized champions in the struggle of life against its +numerous enemies? + +In the first place, the persons who seek the aid of the physician are +very honest and sincere in their wish to get rid of their complaints, +and, generally speaking, to live as long as they can. However +attractively the future is painted to them, they are attached to the +planet with which they are already acquainted. They are addicted to the +daily use of this empirical and unchemical mixture which we call air; and +would hold on to it as a tippler does to his alcoholic drinks. There is +nothing men will not do, there is nothing they have not done, to recover +their health and save their lives. They have submitted to be +half-drowned in water, and half-choked with gases, to be buried up to +their chins in earth, to be seared with hot irons like galley-slaves, to +be crimped with knives, like cod-fish, to have needles thrust into their +flesh, and bonfires kindled on their skin, to swallow all sorts of +abominations, and to pay for all this, as if to be singed and scalded +were a costly privilege, as if blisters were a blessing, and leeches were +a luxury. What more can be asked to prove their honesty and sincerity? + +This same community is very intelligent with respect to a great many +subjects-commerce, mechanics, manufactures, politics. But with regard to +medicine it is hopelessly ignorant and never finds it out. I do not know +that it is any worse in this country than in Great Britain, where Mr. +Huxley speaks very freely of "the utter ignorance of the simplest laws of +their own animal life, which prevails among even the most highly educated +persons." And Cullen said before him "Neither the acutest genius nor the +soundest judgment will avail in judging of a particular science, in +regard to which they have not been exercised. I have been obliged to +please my patients sometimes with reasons, and I have found that any will +pass, even with able divines and acute lawyers; the same will pass with +the husbands as with the wives." If the community could only be made +aware of its own utter ignorance, and incompetence to form opinions on +medical subjects, difficult enough to those who give their lives to the +study of them, the practitioner would have an easier task. But it will +form opinions of its own, it cannot help it, and we cannot blame it, even +though we know how slight and deceptive are their foundations. + +This is the way it happens: Every grown-up person has either been ill +himself or had a friend suffer from illness, from which he has recovered. +Every sick person has done something or other by somebody's advice, or of +his own accord, a little before getting better. There is an irresistible +tendency to associate the thing done, and the improvement which followed +it, as cause and effect. This is the great source of fallacy in medical +practice. But the physician has some chance of correcting his hasty +inference. He thinks his prescription cured a single case of a +particular complaint; he tries it in twenty similar cases without effect, +and sets down the first as probably nothing more than a coincidence. The +unprofessional experimenter or observer has no large experience to +correct his hasty generalization. He wants to believe that the means he +employed effected his cure. He feels grateful to the person who advised +it, he loves to praise the pill or potion which helped him, and he has a +kind of monumental pride in himself as a living testimony to its +efficacy. So it is that you will find the community in which you live, +be it in town or country, full of brands plucked from the burning, as +they believe, by some agency which, with your better training, you feel +reasonably confident had nothing to do with it. Their disease went out +of itself, and the stream from the medical fire-annihilator had never +even touched it. + +You cannot and need not expect to disturb the public in the possession of +its medical superstitions. A man's ignorance is as much his private +property, and as precious in his own eyes, as his family Bible. You have +only to open your own Bible at the ninth chapter of St. John's Gospel, +and you will find that the logic of a restored patient was very simple +then, as it is now, and very hard to deal with. My clerical friends will +forgive me for poaching on their sacred territory, in return for an +occasional raid upon the medical domain of which they have now and then +been accused. + +A blind man was said to have been restored to sight by a young person +whom the learned doctors of the Jewish law considered a sinner, and, as +such, very unlikely to have been endowed with a divine gift of healing. +They visited the patient repeatedly, and evidently teased him with their +questions about the treatment, and their insinuations about the young +man, until he lost his temper. At last he turned sharply upon them: +"Whether he be a sinner or no, I know not: one thing I know, that, +whereas I was blind, now I see." + +This is the answer that always has been and always will be given by most +persons when they find themselves getting well after doing anything, no +matter what,--recommended by anybody, no matter whom. Lord Bacon, Robert +Boyle, Bishop Berkeley, all put their faith in panaceas which we should +laugh to scorn. They had seen people get well after using them. Are we +any wiser than those great men? Two years ago, in a lecture before the +Massachusetts Historical Society, I mentioned this recipe of Sir Kenelm +Digby for fever and ague: Pare the patient's nails; put the parings in a +little bag, and hang the bag round the neck of a live eel, and place him +in a tub of water. The eel will die, and the patient will recover. + +Referring to this prescription in the course of the same lecture, I said: +"You smiled when I related Sir Kenehn Digby's prescription, with the live +eel in it; but if each of you were to empty his or her pockets, would +there not roll out, from more than one of them, a horse-chestnut, carried +about as a cure for rheumatism?" Nobody saw fit to empty his or her +pockets, and my question brought no response. But two months ago I was in +a company of educated persons, college graduates every one of them, when +a gentleman, well known in our community, a man of superior ability and +strong common-sense, on the occasion of some talk arising about +rheumatism, took a couple of very shiny horse-chestnuts from his +breeches-pocket, and laid them on the table, telling us how, having +suffered from the complaint in question, he had, by the advice of a +friend, procured these two horse-chestnuts on a certain time a year or +more ago, and carried them about him ever since; from which very day he +had been entirely free from rheumatism. + +This argument, from what looks like cause and effect, whether it be so or +not, is what you will have to meet wherever you go, and you need not +think you can answer it. In the natural course of things some thousands +of persons must be getting well or better of slight attacks of colds, of +rheumatic pains, every week, in this city alone. Hundreds of them do +something or other in the way of remedy, by medical or other advice, or +of their own motion, and the last thing they do gets the credit of the +recovery. Think what a crop of remedies this must furnish, if it were +all harvested! + +Experience has taught, or will teach you, that most of the wonderful +stories patients and others tell of sudden and signal cures are like Owen +Glendower's story of the portents that announced his birth. The earth +shook at your nativity, did it? Very likely, and + + "So it would have done, + At the same season, if your mother's cat + Had kittened, though yourself had ne'er been born." + +You must listen more meekly than Hotspur did to the babbling Welshman, +for ignorance is a solemn and sacred fact, and, like infancy, which it +resembles, should be respected. Once in a while you will have a patient +of sense, born with the gift of observation, from whom you may learn +something. When you find yourself in the presence of one who is fertile +of medical opinions, and affluent in stories of marvellous cures,--of a +member of Congress whose name figures in certificates to the value of +patent medicines, of a voluble dame who discourses on the miracles she +has wrought or seen wrought with the little jokers of the sugar-of-milk +globule-box, take out your watch and count the pulse; also note the time +of day, and charge the price of a visit for every extra fifteen, or, if +you are not very busy, every twenty minutes. In this way you will turn +what seems a serious dispensation into a double blessing, for this class +of patients loves dearly to talk, and it does them a deal of good, and +you feel as if you had earned your money by the dose you have taken, +quite as honestly as by any dose you may have ordered. + +You must take the community just as it is, and make the best of it. You +wish to obtain its confidence; there is a short rule for doing this which +you will find useful,--deserve it. But, to deserve it in full measure, +you must unite many excellences, natural and acquired. + +As the basis of all the rest, you must have all those traits of character +which fit you to enter into the most intimate and confidential relations +with the families of which you are the privileged friend and counsellor. +Medical Christianity, if I may use such a term, is of very early date. +By the oath of Hippocrates, the practitioner of ancient times bound +himself to enter his patient's house with the sole purpose of doing him +good, and so to conduct himself as to avoid the very appearance of evil. +Let the physician of to-day begin by coming up to this standard, and add +to it all the more recently discovered virtues and graces. + +A certain amount of natural ability is requisite to make you a good +physician, but by no means that disproportionate development of some +special faculty which goes by the name of genius. A just balance of the +mental powers is a great deal more likely to be useful than any single +talent, even were it the power of observation; in excess. For a mere +observer is liable to be too fond of facts for their own sake, so that, +if he told the real truth, he would confess that he takes more pleasure +in a post-mortem examination which shows him what was the matter with a +patient, than in a case which insists on getting well and leaving him in +the dark as to its nature. Far more likely to interfere with the sound +practical balance of the mind is that speculative, theoretical tendency +which has made so many men noted in their day, whose fame has passed away +with their dissolving theories. Read Dr. Bartlett's comparison of the +famous Benjamin Rush with his modest fellow-townsman Dr. William Currie, +and see the dangers into which a passion for grandiose generalizations +betrayed a man of many admirable qualities. + +I warn you against all ambitious aspirations outside of your profession. +Medicine is the most difficult of sciences and the most laborious of +arts. It will task all your powers of body and mind if you are faithful +to it. Do not dabble in the muddy sewer of politics, nor linger by the +enchanted streams of literature, nor dig in far-off fields for the hidden +waters of alien sciences. The great practitioners are generally those +who concentrate all their powers on their business. If there are here +and there brilliant exceptions, it is only in virtue of extraordinary +gifts, and industry to which very few are equal. + +To get business a man mast really want it; and do you suppose that when +you are in the middle of a heated caucus, or half-way through a delicate +analysis, or in the spasm of an unfinished ode, your eyes rolling in the +fine frenzy of poetical composition, you want to be called to a teething +infant, or an ancient person groaning under the griefs of a lumbago? I +think I have known more than one young man whose doctor's sign proclaimed +his readiness to serve mankind in that capacity, but who hated the sound +of a patient's knock, and as he sat with his book or his microscope, felt +exactly as the old party expressed himself in my friend Mr. Brownell's +poem-- + + "All I axes is, let me alone." + +The community soon finds out whether you are in earnest, and really mean +business, or whether you are one of those diplomaed dilettanti who like +the amusement of quasi medical studies, but have no idea of wasting their +precious time in putting their knowledge in practice for the benefit of +their suffering fellow-creatures. + +The public is a very incompetent judge of your skill and knowledge, but +it gives its confidence most readily to those who stand well with their +professional brethren, whom they call upon when they themselves or their +families are sick, whom they choose to honorable offices, whose writings +and teachings they hold in esteem. A man may be much valued by the +profession and yet have defects which prevent his becoming a favorite +practitioner, but no popularity can be depended upon as permanent which +is not sanctioned by the judgment of professional experts, and with these +you will always stand on your substantial merits. + +What shall I say of the personal habits you must form if you wish for +success? Temperance is first upon the list. Intemperance in a physician +partakes of the guilt of homicide, for the muddled brain may easily make +a fatal blunder in a prescription and the unsteady hand transfix an +artery in an operation. Tippling doctors have been too common in the +history of medicine. Paracelsus was a sot, Radcliffe was much too fond +of his glass, and Dr. James Hurlbut of Wethersfield, Connecticut, a +famous man in his time, used to drink a square bottle of rum a day, with +a corresponding allowance of opium to help steady his nerves. We +commonly speak of a man as being the worse for liquor, but I was asking +an Irish laborer one day about his doctor, who, as he said, was somewhat +given to drink. "I like him best when he's a little that way," he said; +"then I can spake to him." I pitied the poor patient who could not +venture to allude to his colic or his pleurisy until his physician was +tipsy. + +There are personal habits of less gravity than the one I have mentioned +which it is well to guard against, or, if they are formed, to relinquish. +A man who may be called at a moment's warning into the fragrant boudoir +of suffering loveliness should not unsweeten its atmosphere with +reminiscences of extinguished meerschaums. He should remember that the +sick are sensitive and fastidious, that they love the sweet odors and the +pure tints of flowers, and if his presence is not like the breath of the +rose, if his hands are not like the leaf of the lily, his visit may be +unwelcome, and if he looks behind him he may see a window thrown open +after he has left the sick-chamber. I remember too well the old doctor +who sometimes came to help me through those inward griefs to which +childhood is liable. "Far off his coming "--shall I say "shone," and +finish the Miltonic phrase, or leave the verb to the happy conjectures of +my audience? Before him came a soul-subduing whiff of ipecacuanha, and +after him lingered a shuddering consciousness of rhubarb. He had lived +so much among his medicaments that he had at last become himself a drug, +and to have him pass through a sick-chamber was a stronger dose than a +conscientious disciple of Hahnemann would think it safe to administer. + +Need I remind you of the importance of punctuality in your engagements, +and of the worry and distress to patients and their friends which the +want of it occasions? One of my old teachers always carried two watches, +to make quite sure of being exact, and not only kept his appointments +with the regularity of a chronometer, but took great pains to be at his +patient's house at the time when he had reason to believe he was +expected, even if no express appointment was made. It is a good rule; if +you call too early, my lady's hair may not be so smooth as could be +wished, and, if you keep her waiting too long, her hair may be smooth, +but her temper otherwise. + +You will remember, of course, always to get the weather-gage of your +patient. I mean, to place him so that the light falls on his face and +not on yours. It is a kind of, ocular duel that is about to take place +between you; you are going to look through his features into his +pulmonary and hepatic and other internal machinery, and he is going to +look into yours quite as sharply to see what you think about his +probabilities for time or eternity. + +No matter how hard he stares at your countenance, he should never be able +to read his fate in it. It should be cheerful as long as there is hope, +and serene in its gravity when nothing is left but resignation. The face +of a physician, like that of a diplomatist, should be impenetrable. +Nature is a benevolent old hypocrite; she cheats the sick and the dying +with illusions better than any anodynes. If there are cogent reasons why +a patient should be undeceived, do it deliberately and advisedly, but do +not betray your apprehensions through your tell-tale features. + +We had a physician in our city whose smile was commonly reckoned as being +worth five thousand dollars a year to him, in the days, too, of moderate +incomes. You cannot put on such a smile as that any more than you can +get sunshine without sun; there was a tranquil and kindly nature under it +that irradiated the pleasant face it made one happier to meet on his +daily rounds. But you can cultivate the disposition, and it will work +its way through to the surface, nay, more,--you can try to wear a quiet +and encouraging look, and it will react on your disposition and make you +like what you seem to be, or at least bring you nearer to its own +likeness. + +Your patient has no more right to all the truth you know than he has to +all the medicine in your saddlebags, if you carry that kind of +cartridge-box for the ammunition that slays disease. He should get only +just so much as is good for him. I have seen a physician examining a +patient's chest stop all at once, as he brought out a particular sound +with a tap on the collarbone, in the attitude of a pointer who has just +come on the scent or sight of a woodcock. You remember the Spartan boy, +who, with unmoved countenance, hid the fox that was tearing his vitals +beneath his mantle. What he could do in his own suffering you must learn +to do for others on whose vital organs disease has fastened its devouring +teeth. It is a terrible thing to take away hope, even earthly hope, from +a fellow-creature. Be very careful what names you let fall before your +patient. He knows what it means when you tell him he has tubercles or +Bright's disease, and, if he hears the word carcinoma, he will certainly +look it out in a medical dictionary, if he does not interpret its dread +significance on the instant. Tell him he has asthmatic symptoms, or a +tendency to the gouty diathesis, and he will at once think of all the +asthmatic and gouty old patriarchs he has ever heard of, and be +comforted. You need not be so cautious in speaking of the health of rich +and remote relatives, if he is in the line of succession. + +Some shrewd old doctors have a few phrases always on hand for patients +that will insist on knowing the pathology of their complaints without the +slightest capacity of understanding the scientific explanation. I have +known the term "spinal irritation" serve well on such occasions, but I +think nothing on the whole has covered so much ground, and meant so +little, and given such profound satisfaction to all parties, as the +magnificent phrase "congestion of the portal system." + +Once more, let me recommend you, as far as possible, to keep your doubts +to yourself, and give the patient the benefit of your decision. +Firmness, gentle firmness, is absolutely necessary in this and certain +other relations. Mr. Rarey with Cruiser, Richard with Lady Ann, Pinel +with his crazy people, show what steady nerves can do with the most +intractable of animals, the most irresistible of despots, and the most +unmanageable of invalids. + +If you cannot acquire and keep the confidence of your patient, it is time +for you to give place to some other practitioner who can. If you are +wise and diligent, you can establish relations with the best of them +which they will find it very hard to break. But, if they wish to employ +another person, who, as they think, knows more than you do, do not take +it as a personal wrong. A patient believes another man can save his +life, can restore him to health, which, as he thinks, you have not the +skill to do. No matter whether the patient is right or wrong, it is a +great impertinence to think you have any property in him. Your estimate +of your own ability is not the question, it is what the patient thinks of +it. All your wisdom is to him like the lady's virtue in Raleigh's song: + + "If she seem not chaste to me, + What care I how chaste she be?" + +What I call a good patient is one who, having found a good physician, +sticks to him till he dies. But there are many very good people who are +not what I call good patients. I was once requested to call on a lady +suffering from nervous and other symptoms. It came out in the +preliminary conversational skirmish, half medical, half social, that I +was the twenty-sixth member of the faculty into whose arms, +professionally speaking, she had successively thrown herself. Not being +a believer in such a rapid rotation of scientific crops, I gently +deposited the burden, commending it to the care of number twenty-seven, +and, him, whoever he might be, to the care of Heaven. + +If there happened to be among my audience any person who wished to know +on what principles the patient should choose his physician, I should give +him these few precepts to think over: + +Choose a man who is personally agreeable, for a daily visit from an +intelligent, amiable, pleasant, sympathetic person will cost you no more +than one from a sloven or a boor, and his presence will do more for you +than any prescription the other will order. + +Let him be a man of recognized good sense in other matters, and the +chance is that he will be sensible as a practitioner. + +Let him be a man who stands well with his professional brethren, whom +they approve as honest, able, courteous. + +Let him be one whose patients are willing to die in his hands, not one +whom they go to for trifles, and leave as soon as they are in danger, and +who can say, therefore, that he never loses a patient. + +Do not leave the ranks of what is called the regular profession, unless +you wish to go farther and fare worse, for you may be assured that its +members recognize no principle which hinders their accepting any remedial +agent proved to be useful, no matter from what quarter it comes. The +difficulty is that the stragglers, organized under fantastic names in +pretentious associations, or lurking in solitary dens behind doors left +ajar, make no real contributions to the art of healing. When they bring +forward a remedial agent like chloral, like the bromide of potassium, +like ether, used as an anesthetic, they will find no difficulty in +procuring its recognition. + +Some of you will probably be more or less troubled by the pretensions of +that parody of mediaeval theology which finds its dogma of hereditary +depravity in the doctrine of psora, its miracle of transubstantiation in +the mystery of its triturations and dilutions, its church in the people +who have mistaken their century, and its priests in those who have +mistaken their calling. You can do little with persons who are disposed +to accept these curious medical superstitions. The saturation-point of +individual minds with reference to evidence, and especially medical +evidence, differs, and must always continue to differ, very widely. +There are those whose minds are satisfied with the decillionth dilution +of a scientific proof. No wonder they believe in the efficacy of a +similar attenuation of bryony or pulsatilla. You have no fulcrum you can +rest upon to lift an error out of such minds as these, often highly +endowed with knowledge and talent, sometimes with genius, but commonly +richer in the imaginative than the observing and reasoning faculties. + +Let me return once more to the young graduate. Your relations to your +professional brethren may be a source of lifelong happiness and growth in +knowledge and character, or they may make you wretched and end by leaving +you isolated from those who should be your friends and counsellors. The +life of a physician becomes ignoble when he suffers himself to feed on +petty jealousies and sours his temper in perpetual quarrels. You will be +liable to meet an uncomfortable man here and there in the +profession,--one who is so fond of being in hot water that it is a wonder +all the albumen in his body is not coagulated. There are common barrators +among doctors as there are among lawyers,--stirrers up of strife under +one pretext and another, but in reality because they like it. They are +their own worst enemies, and do themselves a mischief each time they +assail their neighbors. In my student days I remember a good deal of +this Donnybrook-Fair style of quarrelling, more especially in Paris, +where some of the noted surgeons were always at loggerheads, and in one +of our lively Western cities. Soon after I had set up an office, I had a +trifling experience which may serve to point a moral in this direction. +I had placed a lamp behind the glass in the entry to indicate to the +passer-by where relief from all curable infirmities was to be sought and +found. Its brilliancy attracted the attention of a devious youth, who +dashed his fist through the glass and upset my modest luminary. All he +got by his vivacious assault was that he left portions of integument from +his knuckles upon the glass, had a lame hand, was very easily identified, +and had to pay the glazier's bill. The moral is that, if the brilliancy +of another's reputation excites your belligerent instincts, it is not +worth your while to strike at it, without calculating which of you is +likely to suffer most, if you do. + +You may be assured that when an ill-conditioned neighbor is always +complaining of a bad taste in his mouth and an evil atmosphere about him, +there is something wrong about his own secretions. In such cases there +is an alterative regimen of remarkable efficacy: it is a starvation-diet +of letting alone. The great majority of the profession are peacefully +inclined. Their pursuits are eminently humanizing, and they look with +disgust on the personalities which intrude themselves into the placid +domain of an art whose province it is to heal and not to wound. + +The intercourse of teacher and student in a large school is necessarily +limited, but it should be, and, so far as my experience goes, it is, +eminently cordial and kindly. You will leave with regret, and hold in +tender remembrance, those who have taken you by the hand at your entrance +on your chosen path, and led you patiently and faithfully, until the +great gates at its end have swung upon their hinges, and the world lies +open before you. That venerable oath to which I have before referred +bound the student to regard his instructor in the light of a parent, to +treat his children like brothers, to succor him in his day of need. I +trust the spirit of the oath of Hippocrates is not dead in the hearts of +the students of to-day. They will remember with gratitude every earnest +effort, every encouraging word, which has helped them in their difficult +and laborious career of study. The names they read on their diplomas +will recall faces that are like family-portraits in their memory, and the +echo of voices they have listened to so long will linger in their +memories far into the still evening of their lives. + +One voice will be heard no more which has been familiar to many among +you. It is not for me, a stranger to these scenes, to speak his eulogy. +I have no right to sadden this hour by dwelling on the deep regrets of +friendship, or to bid the bitter tears of sorrow flow afresh. Yet I +cannot help remembering what a void the death of such a practitioner as +your late instructor must leave in the wide circle of those who leaned +upon his counsel and assistance in their hour of need, in a community +where he was so widely known and esteemed, in a school where he bore so +important a part. There is no exemption from the common doom for him who +holds the shield to protect others. The student is called from his +bench, the professor from his chair, the practitioner in his busiest +period hears a knock more peremptory than any patient's midnight summons, +and goes on that unreturning visit which admits of no excuse, and suffers +no delay. The call of such a man away from us is the bereavement of a +great family. Nor can we help regretting the loss for him of a bright +and cheerful earthly future; for the old age of a physician is one of the +happiest periods of his life. He is loved and cherished for what he has +been, and even in the decline of his faculties there are occasions when +his experience is still appealed to, and his trembling hands are looked +to with renewing hope and trust, as being yet able to stay the arm of the +destroyer. + +But if there is so much left for age, how beautiful, how inspiring is the +hope of youth! I see among those whom I count as listeners one by whose +side I have sat as a fellow-teacher, and by whose instructions I have +felt myself not too old to profit. As we borrowed him from your city, I +must take this opportunity of telling you that his zeal, intelligence, +and admirable faculty as an instructor were heartily and universally +recognized among us. We return him, as we trust, uninjured, to the +fellow-citizens who have the privilege of claiming him as their own. + +And now, gentlemen of the graduating class, nothing remains but for me to +bid you, in the name of those for whom I am commissioned and privileged +to speak, farewell as students, and welcome as practitioners. I +pronounce the two benedictions in the same breath, as the late king's +demise and the new king's accession are proclaimed by the same voice at +the same moment. You would hardly excuse me if I stooped to any meaner +dialect than the classical and familiar language of your prescriptions, +the same in which your title to the name of physician is, if, like our +own institution, you follow the ancient usage, engraved upon your +diplomas. + +Valete, JUVENES, artis medicae studiosi; valete, discipuli, valete, +filii! + +Salvete, VIRI, artis medicae magister; Salvete amici; salvete fratres! + + + + +MEDICAL LIBRARIES. + +[Dedicatory Address at the opening of the Medical Library in Boston, +December 3, 1878.] + +It is my appointed task, my honorable privilege, this evening, to speak +of what has been done by others. No one can bring his tribute of words +into the presence of great deeds, or try with them to embellish the +memory of any inspiring achievement, without feeling and leaving with +others a sense of their insufficiency. So felt Alexander when he +compared even his adored Homer with the hero the poet had sung. So felt +Webster when he contrasted the phrases of rhetoric with the eloquence of +patriotism and of self-devotion. So felt Lincoln when on the field of +Gettysburg he spoke those immortal words which Pericles could not have +bettered, which Aristotle could not have criticised. So felt he who +wrote the epitaph of the builder of the dome which looks down on the +crosses and weathercocks that glitter over London. + +We are not met upon a battle-field, except so far as every laborious +achievement means a victory over opposition, indifference, selfishness, +faintheartedness, and that great property of mind as well as +matter,--inertia. We are not met in a cathedral, except so far as every +building whose walls are lined with the products of useful and ennobling +thought is a temple of the Almighty, whose inspiration has given us +understanding. But we have gathered within walls which bear testimony to +the self-sacrificing, persevering efforts of a few young men, to whom we +owe the origin and development of all that excites our admiration in this +completed enterprise; and I might consider my task as finished if I +contented myself with borrowing the last word of the architect's epitaph +and only saying, Look around you! + +The reports of the librarian have told or will tell you, in some detail, +what has been accomplished since the 21st of December, 1874, when six +gentlemen met at the house of Dr. Henry Ingersoll Bowditch to discuss +different projects for a medical library. In less than four years from +that time, by the liberality of associations and of individuals, this +collection of nearly ten thousand volumes, of five thousand pamphlets, +and of one hundred and twenty-five journals, regularly received,--all +worthily sheltered beneath this lofty roof,--has come into being under +our eyes. It has sprung up, as it were; in the night like a mushroom; it +stands before us in full daylight as lusty as an oak, and promising to +grow and flourish in the perennial freshness of an evergreen. + +To whom does our profession owe this already large collection of books, +exceeded in numbers only by four or five of the most extensive medical +libraries in the country, and lodged in a building so well adapted to its +present needs? We will not point out individually all those younger +members of the profession who have accomplished what their fathers and +elder brethren had attempted and partially achieved. We need not write +their names on these walls, after the fashion of those civic dignitaries +who immortalize themselves on tablets of marble and gates of iron. But +their contemporaries know them well, and their descendants will not +forget them,--the men who first met together, the men who have given +their time and their money, the faithful workers, worthy associates of +the strenuous agitator who gave no sleep to his eyes, no slumber to his +eyelids, until he had gained his ends; the untiring, imperturbable, +tenacious, irrepressible, all-subduing agitator who neither rested nor +let others rest until the success of the project was assured. If, +against his injunctions, I name Dr. James Read Chadwick, it is only my +revenge for his having kept me awake so often and so long while he was +urging on the undertaking in which he has been preeminently active and +triumphantly successful. + +We must not forget the various medical libraries which preceded this: +that of an earlier period, when Boston contained about seventy regular +practitioners, the collection afterwards transferred to the Boston +Athenaeum; the two collections belonging to the University; the Treadwell +Library at the Massachusetts General Hospital; the collections of the two +societies, that for Medical Improvement and that for Medical Observation; +and more especially the ten thousand volumes relating to medicine +belonging to our noble public city library,--too many blossoms on the +tree of knowledge, perhaps, for the best fruit to ripen. But the +Massachusetts Medical Society now numbers nearly four hundred members in +the city of Boston. The time had arrived for a new and larger movement. +There was needed a place to which every respectable member of the medical +profession could obtain easy access; where, under one roof, all might +find the special information they were seeking; where the latest medical +intelligence should be spread out daily as the shipping news is posted on +the bulletins of the exchange; where men engaged in a common pursuit +could meet, surrounded by the mute oracles of science and art; where the +whole atmosphere should be as full of professional knowledge as the +apothecary's shop is of the odor of his medicaments. This was what the +old men longed for,--the prophets and kings of the profession, who + + "Desired it long, + But died without the sight." + +This is what the young men and those who worked under their guidance +undertook to give us. And now such a library, such a reading-room, such +an exchange, such an intellectual and social meeting place, we be hold a +fact, plain before us. The medical profession of our city, and, let us +add, of all those neighboring places which it can reach with its iron +arms, is united as never before by the commune vinculum, the common bond +of a large, enduring, ennobling, unselfish interest. It breathes a new +air of awakened intelligence. It marches abreast of the other learned +professions, which have long had their extensive and valuable centralized +libraries; abreast of them, but not promising to be content with that +position. What glorifies a town like a cathedral? What dignifies a +province like a university? What illuminates a country like its +scholarship, and what is the nest that hatches scholars but a library? + +The physician, some may say, is a practical man and has little use for +all this book-learning. Every student has heard Sydenham's reply to Sir +Richard Blackmore's question as to what books he should read,--meaning +medical books. "Read Don Quixote," was his famous answer. But Sydenham +himself made medical books and may be presumed to have thought those at +least worth reading. Descartes was asked where was his library, and in +reply held up the dissected body of an animal. But Descartes made books, +great books, and a great many of them. A physician of common sense +without erudition is better than a learned one without common sense, but +the thorough master of his profession must have learning added to his +natural gifts. + +It is not necessary to maintain the direct practical utility of all kinds +of learning. Our shelves contain many books which only a certain class +of medical scholars will be likely to consult. There is a dead medical +literature, and there is a live one. The dead is not all ancient, the +live is not all modern. There is none, modern or ancient, which, if it +has no living value for the student, will not teach him something by its +autopsy. But it is with the live literature of his profession that the +medical practitioner is first of all concerned. + +Now there has come a great change in our time over the form in which +living thought presents itself. The first printed books,--the +incunabula,--were inclosed in boards of solid oak, with brazen clasps and +corners; the boards by and by were replaced by pasteboard covered with +calf or sheepskin; then cloth came in and took the place of leather; then +the pasteboard was covered with paper instead of cloth; and at this day +the quarterly, the monthly, the weekly periodical in its flimsy +unsupported dress of paper, and the daily journal, naked as it came from +the womb of the press, hold the larger part of the fresh reading we live +upon. We must have the latest thought in its latest expression; the page +must be newly turned like the morning bannock; the pamphlet must be newly +opened like the ante-prandial oyster. + +Thus a library, to meet the need of our time, must take, and must spread +out in a convenient form, a great array of periodicals. Our active +practitioners read these by preference over almost everything else. Our +specialists, more particularly, depend on the month's product, on the +yearly crop of new facts, new suggestions, new contrivances, as much as +the farmer on the annual yield of his acres. One of the first wants, +then, of the profession is supplied by our library in its great array of +periodicals from many lands, in many languages. Such a number of medical +periodicals no private library would have room for, no private person +would pay for, or flood his tables with if they were sent him for +nothing. These, I think, with the reports of medical societies and the +papers contributed to them, will form the most attractive part of our +accumulated medical treasures. They will be also one of our chief +expenses, for these journals must be bound in volumes and they require a +great amount of shelf-room; all this, in addition to the cost of +subscription for those which are not furnished us gratuitously. + +It is true that the value of old scientific periodicals is, other things +being equal, in the inverse ratio of their age, for the obvious reason +that what is most valuable in the earlier volumes of a series is drained +off into the standard works with which the intelligent practitioner is +supposed to be familiar. But no extended record of facts grows too old +to be useful, provided only that we have a ready and sure way of getting +at the particular fact or facts we are in search of. + +And this leads me to speak of what I conceive to be one of the principal +tasks to be performed by the present and the coming generation of +scholars, not only in the medical, but in every department of knowledge. +I mean the formation of indexes, and more especially of indexes to +periodical literature. + +This idea has long been working in the minds of scholars, and all who +have had occasion to follow out any special subject. I have a right to +speak of it, for I long ago attempted to supply the want of indexes in +some small measure for my own need. I had a very complete set of the +"American Journal of the Medical Sciences;" an entire set of the "North +American Review," and many volumes of the reprints of the three leading +British quarterlies. Of what use were they to me without general +indexes? I looked them all through carefully and made classified lists +of all the articles I thought I should most care to read. But they soon +outgrew my lists. The "North American Review" kept filling up shelf +after shelf, rich in articles which I often wanted to consult, but what a +labor to find them, until the index of Mr. Gushing, published a few +months since, made the contents of these hundred and twenty volumes as +easily accessible as the words in a dictionary! I had a, copy of good +Dr. Abraham Rees's Cyclopaedia, a treasure-house to my boyhood which has +not lost its value for me in later years. But where to look for what I +wanted? I wished to know, for instance, what Dr. Burney had to say about +singing. Who would have looked for it under the Italian word cantare? I +was curious to learn something of the etchings of Rembrandt, and where +should I find it but under the head "Low Countries, Engravers of +the,"--an elaborate and most valuable article of a hundred +double-columned close-printed quarto pages, to which no reference, even, +is made under the title Rembrandt. + +There was nothing to be done, if I wanted to know where that which I +specially cared for was to be found in my Rees's Cyclopaedia, but to look +over every page of its forty-one quarto volumes and make out a brief list +of matters of interest which I could not find by their titles, and this I +did, at no small expense of time and trouble. + +Nothing, therefore, could be more pleasing to me than to see the +attention which has been given of late years to the great work of +indexing. It is a quarter of a century since Mr. Poole published his +"Index to Periodical Literature," which it is much to be hoped is soon to +appear in a new edition, grown as it must be to formidable dimensions by +the additions of so long a period. The "British and Foreign Medical +Review," edited by the late Sir John Forties, contributed to by Huxley, +Carpenter, Laycock, and others of the most distinguished scientific men +of Great Britain, has an index to its twenty-four volumes, and by its aid +I find this valuable series as manageable as a lexicon. The last edition +of the "Encyclopaedia Britannica" had a complete index in a separate +volume, and the publishers of Appletons' "American Cyclopaedia" have +recently issued an index to their useful work, which must greatly add to +its value. I have already referred to the index to the "North American +Review," which to an American, and especially to a New Englander, is the +most interesting and most valuable addition of its kind to our literary +apparatus since the publication of Mr. Allibone's "Dictionary of +Authors." I might almost dare to parody Mr. Webster's words in speaking +of Hamilton, to describe what Mr. Gushing did for the solemn rows of back +volumes of our honored old Review which had been long fossilizing on our +shelves: "He touched the dead corpse of the 'North American,' and it +sprang to its feet." A library of the best thought of the best American +scholars during the greater portion of the century was brought to light +by the work of the indexmaker as truly as were the Assyrian tablets by +the labors of Layard. + +A great portion of the best writing and reading literary, scientific, +professional, miscellaneous--comes to us now, at stated intervals, in +paper covers. The writer appears, as it were, in his shirt-sleeves. As +soon as he has delivered his message the book-binder puts a coat on his +back, and he joins the forlorn brotherhood of "back volumes," than which, +so long as they are unindexed, nothing can be more exasperating. Who +wants a lock without a key, a ship without a rudder, a binnacle without a +compass, a check without a signature, a greenback without a goldback +behind it? + +I have referred chiefly to the medical journals, but I would include with +these the reports of medical associations, and those separate +publications which, coming in the form of pamphlets, heap themselves into +chaotic piles and bundles which are worse than useless, taking up a great +deal of room, and frightening everything away but mice and mousing +antiquarians, or possibly at long intervals some terebrating specialist. + +Arranged, bound, indexed, all these at once become accessible and +valuable. I will take the first instance which happens to suggest +itself. How many who know all about osteoblasts and the experiments of +Ollier, and all that has grown out of them, know where to go for a paper +by the late Dr. A. L. Peirson of Salem, published in the year 1840, under +the modest title, Remarks on Fractures? And if any practitioner who has +to deal with broken bones does not know that most excellent and practical +essay, it is a great pity, for it answers very numerous questions which +will be sure to suggest themselves to the surgeon and the patient as no +one of the recent treatises, on my own shelves, at least, can do. + +But if indexing is the special need of our time in medical literature, as +in every department of knowledge, it must be remembered that it is not +only an immense labor, but one that never ends. It requires, therefore, +the cooperation of a large number of individuals to do the work, and a +large amount of money to pay for making its results public through the +press. When it is remembered that the catalogue of the library of the +British Museum is contained in nearly three thousand large folios of +manuscript, and not all its books are yet included, the task of indexing +any considerable branch of science or literature looks as if it were well +nigh impossible. But many hands make light work. An "Index Society" has +been formed in England, already numbering about one hundred and seventy +members. It aims at "supplying thorough indexes to valuable works and +collections which have hitherto lacked them; at issuing indexes to the +literature of special subjects; and at gathering materials for a general +reference index." This society has published a little treatise setting +forth the history and the art of indexing, which I trust is in the hands +of some of our members, if not upon our shelves. + +Something has been done in the same direction by individuals in our own +country, as we have already seen. The need of it in the department of +medicine is beginning to be clearly felt. Our library has already an +admirable catalogue with cross references, the work of a number of its +younger members cooperating in the task. A very intelligent medical +student, Mr. William D. Chapin, whose excellent project is indorsed by +well-known New York physicians and professors, proposes to publish a +yearly index to original communications in the medical journals of the +United States, classified by authors and subjects. But it is from the +National Medical Library at Washington that we have the best promise and +the largest expectations. That great and growing collection of fifty +thousand volumes is under the eye and hand of a librarian who knows books +and how to manage them. For libraries are the standing armies of +civilization, and an army is but a mob without a general who can organize +and marshal it so as to make it effective. The "Specimen Fasciculus of a +Catalogue of the National Medical Library," prepared under the direction +of Dr. Billings, the librarian, would have excited the admiration of +Haller, the master scholar in medical science of the last century, or +rather of the profession in all centuries, and if carried out as it is +begun will be to the nineteenth all and more than all that the three +Bibliothecae--Anatomica, Chirurgica, and Medicinae-Practicae--were to the +eighteenth century. I cannot forget the story that Agassiz was so fond +of telling of the king of Prussia and Fichte. It was after the +humiliation and spoliation of the kingdom by Napoleon that the monarch +asked the philosopher what could be done to regain the lost position of +the nation. "Found a great university, Sire," was the answer, and so it +was that in the year 1810 the world-renowned University of Berlin came +into being. I believe that we in this country can do better than found a +national university, whose professors shall be nominated in caucuses, go +in and out, perhaps, like postmasters, with every change of +administration, and deal with science in the face of their constituency +as the courtier did with time when his sovereign asked him what o'clock +it was: "Whatever hour your majesty pleases." But when we have a noble +library like that at Washington, and a librarian of exceptional +qualifications like the gentleman who now holds that office, I believe +that a liberal appropriation by Congress to carry out a conscientious +work for the advancement of sound knowledge and the bettering of human +conditions, like this which Dr. Billings has so well begun, would redound +greatly to the honor of the nation. It ought to be willing to be at some +charge to make its treasures useful to its citizens, and, for its own +sake, especially to that class which has charge of health, public and +private. This country abounds in what are called "self-made men," and is +justly proud of many whom it thus designates. In one sense no man is +self-made who breathes the air of a civilized community. In another +sense every man who is anything other than a phonograph on legs is +self-made. But if we award his just praise to the man who has attained +any kind of excellence without having had the same advantages as others +whom, nevertheless, he has equalled or surpassed, let us not be betrayed +into undervaluing the mechanic's careful training to his business, the +thorough and laborious education of the scholar and the professional man. + +Our American atmosphere is vocal with the flippant loquacity of half +knowledge. We must accept whatever good can be got out of it, and keep +it under as we do sorrel and mullein and witchgrass, by enriching the +soil, and sowing good seed in plenty; by good teaching and good books, +rather than by wasting our time in talking against it. Half knowledge +dreads nothing but whole knowledge. + +I have spoken of the importance and the predominance of periodical +literature, and have attempted to do justice to its value. But the +almost exclusive reading of it is not without its dangers. The journals +contain much that is crude and unsound; the presumption; it might be +maintained, is against their novelties, unless they come from observers +of established credit. Yet I have known a practitioner,--perhaps more +than one,--who was as much under the dominant influence of the last +article he had read in his favorite medical journal as a milliner under +the sway of the last fashion-plate. The difference between green and +seasoned knowledge is very great, and such practitioners never hold long +enough to any of their knowledge to have it get seasoned. + +It is needless to say, then, that all the substantial and permanent +literature of the profession should be represented upon our shelves. Much +of it is there already, and as one private library after another falls +into this by the natural law of gravitation, it will gradually acquire +all that is most valuable almost without effort. A scholar should not be +in a hurry to part with his books. They are probably more valuable to +him than they can be to any other individual. What Swedenborg called +"correspondence" has established itself between his intelligence and the +volumes which wall him within their sacred inclosure. Napoleon said that +his mind was as if furnished with drawers,--he drew out each as he wanted +its contents, and closed it at will when done with them. The scholar's +mind, to use a similar comparison, is furnished with shelves, like his +library. Each book knows its place in the brain as well as against the +wall or in the alcove. His consciousness is doubled by the books which +encircle him, as the trees that surround a lake repeat themselves in its +unruffled waters. Men talk of the nerve that runs to the pocket, but one +who loves his books, and has lived long with them, has a nervous filament +which runs from his sensorium to every one of them. Or, if I may still +let my fancy draw its pictures, a scholar's library is to him what a +temple is to the worshipper who frequents it. There is the altar sacred +to his holiest experiences. There is the font where his new-born thought +was baptized and first had a name in his consciousness. There is the +monumental tablet of a dead belief, sacred still in the memory of what it +was while yet alive. No visitor can read all this on the lettered backs +of the books that have gathered around the scholar, but for him, from the +Aldus on the lowest shelf to the Elzevir on the highest, every volume has +a language which none but he can interpret. Be patient with the +book-collector who loves his companions too well to let them go. Books +are not buried with their owners, and the veriest book-miser that ever +lived was probably doing far more for his successors than his more +liberal neighbor who despised his learned or unlearned avarice. Let the +fruit fall with the leaves still clinging round it. Who would have +stripped Southey's walls of the books that filled them, when, his mind no +longer capable of taking in their meaning, he would still pat and fondle +them with the vague loving sense of what they had once been to him,--to +him, the great scholar, now like a little child among his playthings? + +We need in this country not only the scholar, but the virtuoso, who +hoards the treasures which he loves, it may be chiefly for their rarity +and because others who know more than he does of their value set a high +price upon them. As the wine of old vintages is gently decanted out of +its cobwebbed bottles with their rotten corks into clean new receptacles, +so the wealth of the New World is quietly emptying many of the libraries +and galleries of the Old World into its newly formed collections and +newly raised edifices. And this process must go on in an accelerating +ratio. No Englishman will be offended if I say that before the New +Zealander takes his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the +ruins of St. Paul's in the midst of a vast solitude, the treasures of the +British Museum will have found a new shelter in the halls of New York or +Boston. No Catholic will think hardly of my saying that before the +Coliseum falls, and with it the imperial city, whose doom prophecy has +linked with that of the almost eternal amphitheatre, the marbles, the +bronzes, the paintings, the manuscripts of the Vatican will have left the +shores of the Tiber for those of the Potomac, the Hudson, the +Mississippi, or the Sacramento. And what a delight in the pursuit of the +rarities which the eager book-hunter follows with the scent of a beagle! + +Shall I ever forget that rainy day in Lyons, that dingy bookshop, where I +found the Aetius, long missing from my Artis bledicae Principes, and +where I bought for a small pecuniary consideration, though it was marked +rare, and was really tres rare, the Aphorisms of Hippocrates, edited by +and with a preface from the hand of Francis Rabelais? And the +vellum-bound Tulpius, which I came upon in Venice, afterwards my only +reading when imprisoned in quarantine at Marseilles, so that the two +hundred and twenty-eight cases he has recorded are, many of them, to this +day still fresh in my memory. And the Schenckius,--the folio filled with +casus rariores, which had strayed in among the rubbish of the bookstall +on the boulevard,--and the noble old Vesalius with its grand frontispiece +not unworthy of Titian, and the fine old Ambroise Pare, long waited for +even in Paris and long ago, and the colossal Spigelius with his +eviscerated beauties, and Dutch Bidloo with its miracles of fine +engraving and bad dissection, and Italian Mascagni, the despair of all +would-be imitators, and pre-Adamite John de Ketam, and antediluvian +Berengarius Carpensis,--but why multiply names, every one of which brings +back the accession of a book which was an event almost like the birth of +an infant? + +A library like ours must exercise the largest hospitality. A great many +books may be found in every large collection which remind us of those +apostolic looking old men who figure on the platform at our political and +other assemblages. Some of them have spoken words of wisdom in their +day, but they have ceased to be oracles; some of them never had any +particularly important message for humanity, but they add dignity to the +meeting by their presence; they look wise, whether they are so or not, +and no one grudges them their places of honor. Venerable figure-heads, +what would our platforms be without you? + +Just so with our libraries. Without their rows of folios in creamy +vellum, or showing their black backs with antique lettering of tarnished +gold, our shelves would look as insufficient and unbalanced as a column +without its base, as a statue without its pedestal. And do not think +they are kept only to be spanked and dusted during that dreadful period +when their owner is but too thankful to become an exile and a wanderer +from the scene of single combats between dead authors and living +housemaids. Men were not all cowards before Agamemnon or all fools +before the days of Virchow and Billroth. And apart from any practical +use to be derived from the older medical authors, is there not a true +pleasure in reading the accounts of great discoverers in their own words? +I do not pretend to hoist up the Bibliotheca Anatomica of Mangetus and +spread it on my table every day. I do not get out my great Albinus +before every lecture on the muscles, nor disturb the majestic repose of +Vesalius every time I speak of the bones he has so admirably described +and figured. But it does please me to read the first descriptions of +parts to which the names of their discoverers or those who have first +described them have become so joined that not even modern science can +part them; to listen to the talk of my old volume as Willis describes his +circle and Fallopius his aqueduct and Varolius his bridge and Eustachius +his tube and Monro his foramen,--all so well known to us in the human +body; it does please me to know the very words in which Winslow described +the opening which bears his name, and Glisson his capsule and De Graaf +his vesicle; I am not content until I know in what language Harvey +announced his discovery of the circulation, and how Spigelius made the +liver his perpetual memorial, and Malpighi found a monument more enduring +than brass in the corpuscles of the spleen and the kidney. + +But after all, the readers who care most for the early records of medical +science and art are the specialists who are dividing up the practice of +medicine and surgery as they were parcelled out, according to Herodotus, +by the Egyptians. For them nothing is too old, nothing is too new, for +to their books of all others is applicable the saying of D'Alembert that +the author kills himself in lengthening out what the reader kills himself +in trying to shorten. + +There are practical books among these ancient volumes which can never +grow old. Would you know how to recognize "male hysteria" and to treat +it, take down your Sydenham; would you read the experience of a physician +who was himself the subject of asthma, and who, notwithstanding that, in +the words of Dr. Johnson, "panted on till ninety," you will find it in +the venerable treatise of Sir John Floyer; would you listen to the story +of the King's Evil cured by the royal touch, as told by a famous +chirurgeon who fully believed in it, go to Wiseman; would you get at +first hand the description of the spinal disease which long bore his +name, do not be startled if I tell you to go to Pott,--to Percival Pott, +the great surgeon of the last century. + +There comes a time for every book in a library when it is wanted by +somebody. It is but a few weeks since one of the most celebrated +physicians in the country wrote to me from a great centre of medical +education to know if I had the works of Sanctorius, which he had tried in +vain to find. I could have lent him the "Medicina Statica," with its +frontispiece showing Sanctorius with his dinner on the table before him, +in his balanced chair which sunk with him below the level of his +banquet-board when he had swallowed a certain number of ounces,--an early +foreshadowing of Pettenkofer's chamber and quantitative physiology,--but +the "Opera Omnia" of Sanctorius I had never met with, and I fear he had +to do without it. + +I would extend the hospitality of these shelves to a class of works which +we are in the habit of considering as being outside of the pale of +medical science, properly so called, and sometimes of coupling with a +disrespectful name. Such has always been my own practice. I have +welcomed Culpeper and Salmon to my bookcase as willingly as Dioscorides +or Quincy, or Paris or Wood and Bache. I have found a place for St. John +Long, and read the story of his trial for manslaughter with as much +interest as the laurel-water case in which John Hunter figured as a +witness. I would give Samuel Hahnemann a place by the side of Samuel +Thomson. Am I not afraid that some student of imaginative turn and not +provided with the needful cerebral strainers without which all the refuse +of gimcrack intelligences gets into the mental drains and chokes them +up,--am I not afraid that some such student will get hold of the +"Organon" or the "Maladies Chroniques" and be won over by their +delusions, and so be lost to those that love him as a man of common sense +and a brother in their high calling? Not in the least. If he showed any +symptoms of infection I would for once have recourse to the principle of +similia similibus. To cure him of Hahnemann I would prescribe my +favorite homoeopathic antidote, Okie's Bonninghausen. If that failed, I +would order Grauvogl as a heroic remedy, and if he survived that uncured, +I would give him my blessing, if I thought him honest, and bid him depart +in peace. For me he is no longer an individual. He belongs to a class of +minds which we are bound to be patient with if their Maker sees fit to +indulge them with existence. We must accept the conjuring +ultra-ritualist, the dreamy second adventist, the erratic spiritualist, +the fantastic homoeopathist, as not unworthy of philosophic study; not +more unworthy of it than the squarers of the circle and the inventors of +perpetual motion, and the other whimsical visionaries to whom De Morgan +has devoted his most instructive and entertaining "Budget of Paradoxes." +I hope, therefore, that our library will admit the works of the so-called +Eclectics, of the Thomsonians, if any are in existence, of the +Clairvoyants, if they have a literature, and especially of the +Homoeopathists. This country seems to be the place for such a +collection, which will by and by be curious and of more value than at +present, for Homoeopathy seems to be following the pathological law of +erysipelas, fading out where it originated as it spreads to new regions. +At least I judge so by the following translated extract from a criticism +of an American work in the "Homoeopatische Rundschau" of Leipzig for +October, 1878, which I find in the "Homoeopathic Bulletin" for the month +of November just passed: "While we feel proud of the spread and rise of +Homoeopathy across the ocean, and while the Homoeopathic works reaching +us from there, and published in a style such as is unknown in Germany, +bear eloquent testimony to the eminent activity of our transatlantic +colleagues, we are overcome by sorrowful regrets at the position +Homoeopathy occupies in Germany. Such a work [as the American one +referred to] with us would be impossible; it would lack the necessary +support." + +By all means let our library secure a good representation of the +literature of Homoeopathy before it leaves us its "sorrowful regrets" and +migrates with its sugar of milk pellets, which have taken the place of +the old pilulae micae panis, to Alaska, to "Nova Zembla, or the Lord +knows where." + +What shall I say in this presence of the duties of a Librarian? Where +have they ever been better performed than in our own public city library, +where the late Mr. Jewett and the living Mr. Winsor have shown us what a +librarian ought to be,--the organizing head, the vigilant guardian, the +seeker's index, the scholar's counsellor? His work is not merely that of +administration, manifold and laborious as its duties are. He must have a +quick intelligence and a retentive memory. He is a public carrier of +knowledge in its germs. His office is like that which naturalists +attribute to the bumble-bee,--he lays up little honey for himself, but +he conveys the fertilizing pollen from flower to flower. + +Our undertaking, just completed,--and just begun--has come at the right +time, not a day too soon. Our practitioners need a library like this, +for with all their skill and devotion there is too little genuine +erudition, such as a liberal profession ought to be able to claim for +many of its members. In reading the recent obituary notices of the late +Dr. Geddings of South Carolina, I recalled what our lamented friend Dr. +Coale used to tell me of his learning and accomplishments, and I could +not help reflecting how few such medical scholars we had to show in +Boston or New England. We must clear up this unilluminated atmosphere, +and here,--here is the true electric light which will irradiate its +darkness. + +The public will catch the rays reflected from the same source of light, +and it needs instruction on the great subjects of health and +disease,--needs it sadly. It is preyed upon by every kind of imposition +almost without hindrance. Its ignorance and prejudices react upon the +profession to the great injury of both. The jealous feeling, for +instance, with regard to such provisions for the study of anatomy as are +sanctioned by the laws in this State and carried out with strict regard +to those laws, threatens the welfare, if not the existence of +institutions for medical instruction wherever it is not held in check by +enlightened intelligence. And on the other hand the profession has just +been startled by a verdict against a physician, ruinous in its +amount,--enough to drive many a hard-working young practitioner out of +house and home,--a verdict which leads to the fear that suits for +malpractice may take the place of the panel game and child-stealing as a +means of extorting money. If the profession in this State, which claims +a high standard of civilization, is to be crushed and ground beneath the +upper millstone of the dearth of educational advantages and the lower +millstone of ruinous penalties for what the ignorant ignorantly shall +decide to be ignorance, all I can say is + + God save the Commonhealth of Massachusetts! + +Once more, we cannot fail to see that just as astrology has given place +to astronomy, so theology, the science of Him whom by searching no man +can find out, is fast being replaced by what we may not improperly call +theonomy, or the science of the laws according to which the Creator acts. +And since these laws find their fullest manifestations for us, at least, +in rational human natures, the study of anthropology is largely replacing +that of scholastic divinity. We must contemplate our Maker indirectly in +human attributes as we talk of Him in human parts of speech. And this +gives a sacredness to the study of man in his physical, mental, moral, +social, and religious nature which elevates the faithful students of +anthropology to the dignity of a priesthood, and sheds a holy light on +the recorded results of their labors, brought together as they are in +such a collection as this which is now spread out before us. + +Thus, then, our library is a temple as truly as the dome-crowned +cathedral hallowed by the breath of prayer and praise, where the dead +repose and the living worship. May it, with all its treasures, be +consecrated like that to the glory of God, through the contributions it +shall make to the advancement of sound knowledge, to the relief of human +suffering, to the promotion of harmonious relations between the members +of the two noble professions which deal with the diseases of the soul and +with those of the body, and to the common cause in which all good men are +working, the furtherance of the well-being of their fellow-creatures! + +NOTE.--As an illustration of the statement in the last paragraph but one, +I take the following notice from the "Boston Daily Advertiser," of +December 4th, the day after the delivery of the address: "Prince Lucien +Bonaparte is now living in London, and is devoting himself to the work of +collecting the creeds of all religions and sects, with a view to their +classification,--his object being simply scientific or anthropological." + +Since delivering the address, also, I find a leading article in the +"Cincinnati Lancet and Clinic" of November 30th, headed "The Decadence of +Homoeopathy," abundantly illustrated by extracts from the "Homoeopathic +Times," the leading American organ of that sect. + +In the New York "Medical Record" of the same date, which I had not seen +before the delivery of my address, is an account of the action of the +Homoeopathic Medical Society of Northern New York, in which Hahnemann's +theory of "dynamization" is characterized in a formal resolve as +"unworthy the confidence of the Homoeopathic profession." + +It will be a disappointment to the German Homoeopathists to read in the +"Homoeopathic Times" such a statement as the following: "Whatever the +influences have been which have checked the outward development of +Homoeopathy, it is plainly evident that the Homoeopathic school, as +regards the number of its openly avowed representatives, has attained its +majority, and has begun to decline both in this country and in England." + +All which is an additional reason for making a collection of the +incredibly curious literature of Homoeopathy before that pseudological +inanity has faded out like so many other delusions. + + + + +SOME OF MY EARLY TEACHERS + +[A Farewell Address to the Medical School of Harvard University, November +28, 1882.] + +I had intended that the recitation of Friday last should be followed by a +few parting words to my class and any friends who might happen to be in +the lecture-room. But I learned on the preceding evening that there was +an expectation, a desire, that my farewell should take a somewhat +different form; and not to disappoint the wishes of those whom I was +anxious to gratify, I made up my mind to appear before you with such +hasty preparation as the scanty time admitted. + +There are three occasions upon which a human being has a right to +consider himself as a centre of interest to those about him: when he is +christened, when he is married, and when he is buried. Every one is the +chief personage, the hero, of his own baptism, his own wedding, and his +own funeral. + +There are other occasions, less momentous, in which one may make more of +himself than under ordinary circumstances he would think it proper to do; +when he may talk about himself, and tell his own experiences, in fact, +indulge in a more or less egotistic monologue without fear or reproach. + +I think I may claim that this is one of those occasions. I have +delivered my last anatomical lecture and heard my class recite for the +last time. They wish to hear from me again in a less scholastic mood +than that in which they have known me. Will you not indulge me in +telling you something of my own story? + +This is the thirty-sixth Course of Lectures in which I have taken my +place and performed my duties as Professor of Anatomy. For more than +half of my term of office I gave instruction in Physiology, after the +fashion of my predecessors and in the manner then generally prevalent in +our schools, where the physiological laboratory was not a necessary part +of the apparatus of instruction. It was with my hearty approval that the +teaching of Physiology was constituted a separate department and made an +independent Professorship. Before my time, Dr. Warren had taught +Anatomy, Physiology, and Surgery in the same course of Lectures, lasting +only three or four months. As the boundaries of science are enlarged, +new divisions and subdivisions of its territories become necessary. In +the place of six Professors in 1847, when I first became a member of the +Faculty, I count twelve upon the Catalogue before me, and I find the +whole number engaged in the work of instruction in the Medical School +amounts to no less than fifty. + +Since I began teaching in this school, the aspect of many branches of +science has undergone a very remarkable transformation. Chemistry and +Physiology are no longer what they were, as taught by the instructors of +that time. We are looking forward to the synthesis of new organic +compounds; our artificial madder is already in the market, and the +indigo-raisers are now fearing that their crop will be supplanted by the +manufactured article. In the living body we talk of fuel supplied and +work done, in movement, in heat, just as if we were dealing with a +machine of our own contrivance. + +A physiological laboratory of to-day is equipped with instruments of +research of such ingenious contrivance, such elaborate construction, that +one might suppose himself in a workshop where some exquisite fabric was +to be wrought, such as Queens love to wear, and Kings do not always love +to pay for. They are, indeed, weaving a charmed web, for these are the +looms from which comes the knowledge that clothes the nakedness of the +intellect. Here are the mills that grind food for its hunger, and "is +not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?" + +But while many of the sciences have so changed that the teachers of the +past would hardly know them, it has not been so with the branch I teach, +or, rather, with that division of it which is chiefly taught in this +amphitheatre. General anatomy, or histology, on the other hand, is +almost all new; it has grown up, mainly, since I began my medical +studies. I never saw a compound microscope during my years of study in +Paris. Individuals had begun to use the instrument, but I never heard it +alluded to by either Professors or students. In descriptive anatomy I +have found little to unlearn, and not a great deal that was both new and +important to learn. Trifling additions are made from year to year, not +to be despised and not to be overvalued. Some of the older anatomical +works are still admirable, some of the newer ones very much the contrary. +I have had recent anatomical plates brought me for inspection, and I have +actually button-holed the book-agent, a being commonly as hard to get rid +of as the tar-baby in the negro legend, that I might put him to shame +with the imperial illustrations of the bones and muscles in the great +folio of Albinus, published in 1747, and the unapproached figures of the +lymphatic system of Mascagni, now within a very few years of a century +old, and still copied, or, rather, pretended to be copied, in the most +recent works on anatomy. + +I am afraid that it is a good plan to get rid of old Professors, and I am +thankful to hear that there is a movement for making provision for those +who are left in need when they lose their offices and their salaries. I +remember one of our ancient Cambridge Doctors once asked me to get into +his rickety chaise, and said to me, half humorously, half sadly, that he +was like an old horse,--they had taken off his saddle and turned him out +to pasture. I fear the grass was pretty short where that old servant of +the public found himself grazing. If I myself needed an apology for +holding my office so long, I should find it in the fact that human +anatomy is much the same study that it was in the days of Vesalius and +Fallopius, and that the greater part of my teaching was of such a nature +that it could never become antiquated. + +Let me begin with my first experience as a medical student. I had come +from the lessons of Judge Story and Mr. Ashmun in the Law School at +Cambridge. I had been busy, more or less, with the pages of Blackstone +and Chitty, and other text-books of the first year of legal study. More +or less, I say, but I am afraid it was less rather than more. For during +that year I first tasted the intoxicating pleasure of authorship. A +college periodical, conducted by friends of mine, still undergraduates, +tempted me into print, and there is no form of lead-poisoning which more +rapidly and thoroughly pervades the blood and bones and marrow than that +which reaches the young author through mental contact with type-metal. +Qui a bu, boira,--he who has once been a drinker will drink again, says +the French proverb. So the man or woman who has tasted type is sure to +return to his old indulgence sooner or later. In that fatal year I had +my first attack of authors' lead-poisoning, and I have never got quite +rid of it from that day to this. But for that I might have applied +myself more diligently to my legal studies, and carried a green bag in +place of a stethoscope and a thermometer up to the present day. + +What determined me to give up Law and apply myself to Medicine I can +hardly say, but I had from the first looked upon that year's study as an +experiment. At any rate, I made the change, and soon found myself +introduced to new scenes and new companionships. + +I can scarcely credit my memory when I recall the first impressions +produced upon me by sights afterwards become so familiar that they could +no more disturb a pulse-beat than the commonest of every-day experiences. +The skeleton, hung aloft like a gibbeted criminal, looked grimly at me as +I entered the room devoted to the students of the school I had joined, +just as the fleshless figure of Time, with the hour-glass and scythe, +used to glare upon me in my childhood from the "New England Primer." The +white faces in the beds at the Hospital found their reflection in my own +cheeks, which lost their color as I looked upon them. All this had to +pass away in a little time; I had chosen my profession, and must meet its +painful and repulsive aspects until they lost their power over my +sensibilities. + +The private medical school which I had joined was one established by Dr. +James Jackson, Dr. Walter Channing, Dr. John Ware, Dr. Winslow Lewis, and +Dr. George W. Otis. Of the first three gentlemen I have either spoken +elsewhere or may find occasion to speak hereafter. The two younger +members of this association of teachers were both graduates of our +University, one of the year 1819, the other of 1818. + +Dr. Lewis was a great favorite with students. He was a man of very +lively temperament, fond of old books and young people, open-hearted, +free-spoken, an enthusiast in teaching, and especially at home in that +apartment of the temple of science where nature is seen in undress, the +anthropotomic laboratory, known to common speech as the dissecting-room. +He had that quality which is the special gift of the man born for a +teacher,--the power of exciting an interest in that which he taught. +While he was present the apartment I speak of was the sunniest of studios +in spite of its mortuary spectacles. Of the students I met there I best +remember James Jackson, Junior, full of zeal and playful as a boy, a +young man whose early death was a calamity to the profession of which he +promised to be a chief ornament; the late Reverend J. S. C. Greene, who, +as the prefix to his name signifies, afterwards changed his profession, +but one of whose dissections I remember looking upon with admiration; and +my friend Mr. Charles Amory, as we call him, Dr. Charles Amory, as he is +entitled to be called, then, as now and always, a favorite with all about +him. He had come to us from the schools of Germany, and brought with him +recollections of the teachings of Blumenbach and the elder Langenbeck, +father of him whose portrait hangs in our Museum. Dr. Lewis was our +companion as well as our teacher. A good demonstrator is,--I will not +say as important as a good Professor in the teaching of Anatomy, because +I am not sure that he is not more important. He comes into direct +personal relations with the students,--he is one of them, in fact, as the +Professor cannot be from the nature of his duties. The Professor's chair +is an insulating stool, so to speak; his age, his knowledge, real or +supposed, his official station, are like the glass legs which support the +electrician's piece of furniture, and cut it off from the common currents +of the floor upon which it stands. Dr. Lewis enjoyed teaching and made +his students enjoy being taught. He delighted in those anatomical +conundrums to answer which keeps the student's eyes open and his wits +awake. He was happy as he dexterously performed the tour de maitre of +the old barber-surgeons, or applied the spica bandage and taught his +scholars to do it, so neatly and symmetrically that the aesthetic +missionary from the older centre of civilization would bend over it in +blissful contemplation, as if it were a sunflower. Dr. Lewis had many +other tastes, and was a favorite, not only with students, but in a wide +circle, professional, antiquarian, masonic, and social. + +Dr. Otis was less widely known, but was a fluent and agreeable lecturer, +and esteemed as a good surgeon. + +I must content myself with this glimpse at myself and a few of my +fellow-students in Boston. After attending two courses of Lectures in +the school of the University, I went to Europe to continue my studies. + +You may like to hear something of the famous Professors of Paris in the +days when I was a student in the Ecole de Medicine, and following the +great Hospital teachers. + +I can hardly believe my own memory when I recall the old practitioners +and Professors who were still going round the hospitals when I mingled +with the train of students that attended the morning visits. See that +bent old man who is groping his way through the wards of La Charity. +That is the famous Baron Boyer, author of the great work on surgery in +nine volumes, a writer whose clearness of style commends his treatise to +general admiration, and makes it a kind of classic. He slashes away at a +terrible rate, they say, when he gets hold of the subject of fistula in +its most frequent habitat,--but I never saw him do more than look as if +he wanted to cut a good dollop out of a patient he was examining. The +short, square, substantial man with iron-gray hair, ruddy face, and white +apron is Baron Larrey, Napoleon's favorite surgeon, the most honest man +he ever saw,--it is reputed that he called him. To go round the Hotel +des Invalides with Larrey was to live over the campaigns of Napoleon, to +look on the sun of Austerlitz, to hear the cannons of Marengo, to +struggle through the icy waters of the Beresina, to shiver in the snows +of the Russian retreat, and to gaze through the battle smoke upon the +last charge of the red lancers on the redder field of Waterloo. Larrey +was still strong and sturdy as I saw him, and few portraits remain +printed in livelier colors on the tablet of my memory. + +Leave the little group of students which gathers about Larrey beneath the +gilded dome of the Invalides and follow me to the Hotel Dieu, where rules +and reigns the master-surgeon of his day, at least so far as Paris and +France are concerned,--the illustrious Baron Dupuytren. No man disputed +his reign, some envied his supremacy. Lisfranc shrugged his shoulders as +he spoke of "ce grand homme de l'autre cots de la riviere," that great +man on the other side of the river, but the great man he remained, until +he bowed before the mandate which none may disobey. "Three times," said +Bouillaud, "did the apoplectic thunderbolt fall on that robust +brain,"--it yielded at last as the old bald cliff that is riven and +crashes down into the valley. I saw him before the first thunderbolt had +descended: a square, solid man, with a high and full-domed head, oracular +in his utterances, indifferent to those around him, sometimes, it was +said, very rough with them. He spoke in low, even tones, with quiet +fluency, and was listened to with that hush of rapt attention which I +have hardly seen in any circle of listeners unless when such men as +ex-President John Quincy Adams or Daniel Webster were the speakers. I do +not think that Dupuytren has left a record which explains his influence, +but in point of fact he dominated those around him in a remarkable +manner. You must have all witnessed something of the same kind. The +personal presence of some men carries command with it, and their accents +silence the crowd around them, when the same words from other lips might +fall comparatively unheeded. + +As for Lisfranc, I can say little more of him than that he was a great +drawer of blood and hewer of members. I remember his ordering a +wholesale bleeding of his patients, right and left, whatever might be the +matter with them, one morning when a phlebotomizing fit was on him. I +recollect his regretting the splendid guardsmen of the old Empire,--for +what? because they had such magnificent thighs to amputate. I got along +about as far as that with him, when I ceased to be a follower of M. +Lisfranc. + +The name of Velpeau must have reached many of you, for he died in 1867, +and his many works made his name widely known. Coming to Paris in wooden +shoes, starving, almost, at first, he raised himself to great eminence as +a surgeon and as an author, and at last obtained the Professorship to +which his talents and learning entitled him. His example may be an +encouragement to some of my younger hearers who are born, not with the +silver spoon in their mouths, but with the two-tined iron fork in their +hands. It is a poor thing to take up their milk porridge with in their +young days, but in after years it will often transfix the solid dumplings +that roll out of the silver spoon. So Velpeau found it. He had not what +is called genius, he was far from prepossessing in aspect, looking as if +he might have wielded the sledge-hammer (as I think he had done in early +life) rather than the lancet, but he had industry, determination, +intelligence, character, and he made his way to distinction and +prosperity, as some of you sitting on these benches and wondering +anxiously what is to become of you in the struggle for life will have +done before the twentieth century has got halfway through its first +quarter. A good sound head over a pair of wooden shoes is a great deal +better than a wooden head belonging to an owner who cases his feet in +calf-skin, but a good brain is not enough without a stout heart to fill +the four great conduits which carry at once fuel and fire to that +mightiest of engines. + +How many of you who are before me are familiarly acquainted with the name +of Broussais, or even with that of Andral? Both were lecturing at the +Ecole de Medicine, and I often heard them. Broussais was in those days +like an old volcano, which has pretty nearly used up its fire and +brimstone, but is still boiling and bubbling in its interior, and now and +then sends up a spirt of lava and a volley of pebbles. His theories of +gastro-enteritis, of irritation and inflammation as the cause of disease, +and the practice which sprang from them, ran over the fields of medicine +for a time like flame over the grass of the prairies. The way in which +that knotty-featured, savage old man would bring out the word +irritation--with rattling and rolling reduplication of the resonant +letter r--might have taught a lesson in articulation to Salvini. But +Broussais's theory was languishing and well-nigh become obsolete, and +this, no doubt, added vehemence to his defence of his cherished dogmas. + +Old theories, and old men who cling to them, must take themselves out of +the way as the new generation with its fresh thoughts and altered habits +of mind comes forward to take the place of that which is dying out. This +was a truth which the fiery old theorist found it very hard to learn, and +harder to bear, as it was forced upon him. For the hour of his lecture +was succeeded by that of a younger and far more popular professor. As +his lecture drew towards its close, the benches, thinly sprinkled with +students, began to fill up; the doors creaked open and banged back +oftener and oftener, until at last the sound grew almost continuous, and +the voice of the lecturer became a leonine growl as he strove in vain to +be heard over the noise of doors and footsteps. + +Broussais was now sixty-two years old. The new generation had outgrown +his doctrines, and the Professor for whose hour the benches had filled +themselves belonged to that new generation. Gabriel Andral was little +more than half the age of Broussais, in the full prime and vigor of +manhood at thirty-seven years. He was a rapid, fluent, fervid, and +imaginative speaker, pleasing in aspect and manner,--a strong contrast to +the harsh, vituperative old man who had just preceded him. His Clinique +Medicale is still valuable as a collection of cases, and his researches +on the blood, conducted in association with Gavarret, contributed new and +valuable facts to science. But I remember him chiefly as one of those +instructors whose natural eloquence made it delightful to listen to him. +I doubt if I or my fellow-students did full justice either to him or to +the famous physician of Hotel Dieu, Chomel. We had addicted ourselves +almost too closely to the words of another master, by whom we were ready +to swear as against all teachers that ever were or ever would be. + +This object of our reverence, I might almost say idolatry, was one whose +name is well known to most of the young men before me, even to those who +may know comparatively little of his works and teachings. Pierre Charles +Alexandre Louis, at the age of forty-seven, as I recall him, was a tall, +rather spare, dignified personage, of serene and grave aspect, but with a +pleasant smile and kindly voice for the student with whom he came into +personal relations. If I summed up the lessons of Louis in two +expressions, they would be these; I do not hold him answerable for the +words, but I will condense them after my own fashion in French, and then +give them to you, expanded somewhat, in English: + + Formez toujours des idees nettes. + Fuyez toujours les a peu pres. + +Always make sure that you form a distinct and clear idea of the matter +you are considering. + +Always avoid vague approximations where exact estimates are possible; +about so many,--about so much, instead of the precise number and +quantity. + +Now, if there is anything on which the biological sciences have prided +themselves in these latter years it is the substitution of quantitative +for qualitative formulae. The "numerical system," of which Louis was the +great advocate, if not the absolute originator, was an attempt to +substitute series of carefully recorded facts, rigidly counted and +closely compared, for those never-ending records of vague, unverifiable +conclusions with which the classics of the healing art were overloaded. +The history of practical medicine had been like the story of the +Danaides. "Experience" had been, from time immemorial, pouring its +flowing treasures into buckets full of holes. At the existing rate of +supply and leakage they would never be filled; nothing would ever be +settled in medicine. But cases thoroughly recorded and mathematically +analyzed would always be available for future use, and when accumulated +in sufficient number would lead to results which would be trustworthy, +and belong to science. + +You young men who are following the hospitals hardly know how much you +are indebted to Louis. I say nothing of his Researches on Phthisis or +his great work on Typhoid Fever. But I consider his modest and brief +Essay on Bleeding in some Inflammatory Diseases, based on cases carefully +observed and numerically analyzed, one of the most important written +contributions to practical medicine, to the treatment of internal +disease, of this century, if not since the days of Sydenham. The lancet +was the magician's wand of the dark ages of medicine. The old physicians +not only believed in its general efficacy as a wonder-worker in disease, +but they believed that each malady could be successfully attacked from +some special part of the body,--the strategic point which commanded the +seat of the morbid affection. On a figure given in the curious old work +of John de Ketam, no less than thirty-eight separate places are marked as +the proper ones to bleed from, in different diseases. Even Louis, who +had not wholly given up venesection, used now and then to order that a +patient suffering from headache should be bled in the foot, in preference +to any other part. + +But what Louis did was this: he showed by a strict analysis of numerous +cases that bleeding did not strangle,--jugulate was the word then +used,--acute diseases, more especially pneumonia. This was not a +reform,--it was a revolution. It was followed up in this country by the +remarkable Discourse of Dr. Jacob Bigelow upon Self-Limited Diseases, +which has, I believe, done more than any other work or essay in our own +language to rescue the practice of medicine from the slavery to the +drugging system which was a part of the inheritance of the profession. + +Yes, I say, as I look back on the long hours of the many days I spent in +the wards and in the autopsy room of La Pitie, where Louis was one of the +attending physicians,--yes, Louis did a great work for practical +medicine. Modest in the presence of nature, fearless in the face of +authority, unwearying in the pursuit of truth, he was a man whom any +student might be happy and proud to claim as his teacher and his friend, +and yet, as I look back on the days when I followed his teachings, I feel +that I gave myself up too exclusively to his methods of thought and +study. + +There is one part of their business which certain medical practitioners +are too apt to forget; namely, that what they should most of all try to +do is to ward off disease, to alleviate suffering, to preserve life, or +at least to prolong it if possible. It is not of the slightest interest +to the patient to know whether three or three and a quarter cubic inches +of his lung are hepatized. His mind is not occupied with thinking of the +curious problems which are to be solved by his own autopsy,--whether this +or that strand of the spinal marrow is the seat of this or that form of +degeneration. He wants something to relieve his pain, to mitigate the +anguish of dyspnea, to bring back motion and sensibility to the dead +limb, to still the tortures of neuralgia. What is it to him that you can +localize and name by some uncouth term the disease which you could not +prevent and which you cannot cure? An old woman who knows how to make a +poultice and how to put it on, and does it tuto, eito, jucunde, just when +and where it is wanted, is better,--a thousand times better in many +cases,--than a staring pathologist, who explores and thumps and doubts +and guesses, and tells his patient be will be better tomorrow, and so +goes home to tumble his books over and make out a diagnosis. + +But in those days, I, like most of my fellow students, was thinking much +more of "science" than of practical medicine, and I believe if we had not +clung so closely to the skirts of Louis and had followed some of the +courses of men like Trousseau,--therapeutists, who gave special attention +to curative methods, and not chiefly to diagnosis,--it would have been +better for me and others. One thing, at any rate, we did learn in the +wards of Louis. We learned that a very large proportion of diseases get +well of themselves, without any special medication,--the great fact +formulated, enforced, and popularized by Dr. Jacob Bigelow in the +Discourse referred to. We unlearned the habit of drugging for its own +sake. This detestable practice, which I was almost proscribed for +condemning somewhat too epigrammatically a little more than twenty years +ago, came to us, I suspect, in a considerable measure from the English +"general practitioners," a sort of prescribing apothecaries. You +remember how, when the city was besieged, each artisan who was called +upon in council to suggest the best means of defence recommended the +articles he dealt in: the carpenter, wood; the blacksmith, iron; the +mason, brick; until it came to be a puzzle to know which to adopt. Then +the shoemaker said, "Hang your walls with new boots," and gave good +reasons why these should be the best of all possible defences. Now the +"general practitioner" charged, as I understand, for his medicine, and +in that way got paid for his visit. Wherever this is the practice, +medicine is sure to become a trade, and the people learn to expect +drugging, and to consider it necessary, because drugs are so universally +given to the patients of the man who gets his living by them. + +It was something to have unlearned the pernicious habit of constantly +giving poisons to a patient, as if they were good in themselves, of +drawing off the blood which he would want in his struggle with disease, +of making him sore and wretched with needless blisters, of turning his +stomach with unnecessary nauseous draught and mixtures,--only because he +was sick and something must be done. But there were positive as well as +negative facts to be learned, and some of us, I fear, came home rich in +the negatives of the expectant practice, poor in the resources which many +a plain country practitioner had ready in abundance for the relief and +the cure of disease. No one instructor can be expected to do all for a +student which he requires. Louis taught us who followed him the love of +truth, the habit of passionless listening to the teachings of nature, the +most careful and searching methods of observation, and the sure means of +getting at the results to be obtained from them in the constant +employment of accurate tabulation. He was not a showy, or eloquent, or, +I should say, a very generally popular man, though the favorite, almost +the idol, of many students, especially Genevese and Bostonians. But he +was a man of lofty and admirable scientific character, and his work will +endure in its influences long after his name is lost sight of save to the +faded eyes of the student of medical literature. + +Many other names of men more or less famous in their day, and who were +teaching while I was in Paris, come up before me. They are but empty +sounds for the most part in the ears of persons of not more than middle +age. Who of you knows anything of Richerand, author of a very popular +work on Physiology, commonly put into the student's hands when I first +began to ask for medical text-books? I heard him lecture once, and have +had his image with me ever since as that of an old, worn-out man,--a +venerable but dilapidated relic of an effete antiquity. To verify this +impression I have just looked out the dates of his birth and death, and +find that he was eighteen years younger than the speaker who is now +addressing you. There is a terrible parallax between the period before +thirty and that after threescore and ten, as two men of those ages look, +one with naked eyes, one through his spectacles, at the man of fifty and +thereabout. Magendie, I doubt not you have all heard of. I attended but +one of his lectures. I question if one here, unless some contemporary of +my own has strayed into the amphitheatre,--knows anything about Marjolin. +I remember two things about his lectures on surgery, the deep tones of +his voice as he referred to his oracle,--the earlier writer, Jean Louis +Petit,--and his formidable snuffbox. What he taught me lies far down, I +doubt not, among the roots of my knowledge, but it does not flower out in +any noticeable blossoms, or offer me any very obvious fruits. Where now +is the fame of Bouillaud, Professor and Deputy, the Sangrado of his time? +Where is the renown of Piorry, percussionist and poet, expert alike in +the resonances of the thoracic cavity and those of the rhyming +vocabulary?--I think life has not yet done with the vivacious Ricord, +whom I remember calling the Voltaire of pelvic literature,--a sceptic as +to the morality of the race in general, who would have submitted Diana to +treatment with his mineral specifics, and ordered a course of blue pills +for the vestal virgins. + +Ricord was born at the beginning of the century, and Piorry some years +earlier. Cruveilhier, who died in 1874, is still remembered by his great +work on pathological anatomy; his work on descriptive anatomy has some +things which I look in vain for elsewhere. But where is Civiale,--where +are Orfila, Gendrin, Rostan, Biett, Alibert,--jolly old Baron Alibert, +whom I remember so well in his broad-brimmed hat, worn a little jauntily +on one side, calling out to the students in the court-yard of the +Hospital St. Louis, "Enfans de la methode naturelle, etes-vous tous +ici?" "Children of the natural method [his own method of classification +of skin diseases,] are you all here?" All here, then, perhaps; all +where, now? + +My show of ghosts is over. It is always the same story that old men tell +to younger ones, some few of whom will in their turn repeat the tale, +only with altered names, to their children's children. + + Like phantoms painted on the magic slide, + Forth from the darkness of the past we glide, + As living shadows for a moment seen + In airy pageant on the eternal screen, + Traced by a ray from one unchanging flame, + Then seek the dust and stillness whence we came. + +Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse, whom I well remember, came back from Leyden, +where he had written his Latin graduating thesis, talking of the learned +Gaubius and the late illustrious Boerhaave and other dead Dutchmen, of +whom you know as much, most of you, as you do of Noah's apothecary and +the family physician of Methuselah, whose prescriptions seem to have been +lost to posterity. Dr. Lloyd came back to Boston full of the teachings +of Cheselden and Sharpe, William Hunter, Smellie, and Warner; Dr. James +Jackson loved to tell of Mr. Cline and to talk of Mr. John Hunter; Dr. +Reynolds would give you his recollections of Sir Astley Cooper and Mr. +Abernethy; I have named the famous Frenchmen of my student days; Leyden, +Edinburgh, London, Paris, were each in turn the Mecca of medical +students, just as at the present day Vienna and Berlin are the centres +where our young men crowd for instruction. These also must sooner or +later yield their precedence and pass the torch they hold to other hands. +Where shall it next flame at the head of the long procession? Shall it +find its old place on the shores of the Gulf of Salerno, or shall it +mingle its rays with the northern aurora up among the fiords of +Norway,--or shall it be borne across the Atlantic and reach the banks of +the Charles, where Agassiz and Wyman have taught, where Hagen still +teaches, glowing like his own Lampyris splendidula, with enthusiasm, +where the first of American botanists and the ablest of American surgeons +are still counted in the roll of honor of our great University? + +Let me add a few words which shall not be other than cheerful, as I bid +farewell to this edifice which I have known so long. I am grateful to +the roof which has sheltered me, to the floors which have sustained me, +though I have thought it safest always to abstain from anything like +eloquence, lest a burst of too emphatic applause might land my class and +myself in the cellar of the collapsing structure, and bury us in the fate +of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram. I have helped to wear these stairs into +hollows,--stairs which I trod when they were smooth and level, fresh from +the plane. There are just thirty-two of them, as there were five and +thirty years ago, but they are steeper and harder to climb, it seems to +me, than they were then. I remember that in the early youth of this +building, the late Dr. John K. Mitchell, father of our famous Dr. Weir +Mitchell, said to me as we came out of the Demonstrator's room, that some +day or other a whole class would go heels over head down this graded +precipice, like the herd told of in Scripture story. This has never +happened as yet; I trust it never will. I have never been proud of the +apartment beneath the seats, in which my preparations for lecture were +made. But I chose it because I could have it to myself, and I resign it, +with a wish that it were more worthy of regret, into the hands of my +successor, with my parting benediction. Within its twilight precincts I +have often prayed for light, like Ajax, for the daylight found scanty +entrance, and the gaslight never illuminated its dark recesses. May it +prove to him who comes after me like the cave of the Sibyl, out of the +gloomy depths of which came the oracles which shone with the rays of +truth and wisdom! + +This temple of learning is not surrounded by the mansions of the great +and the wealthy. No stately avenues lead up to its facades and +porticoes. I have sometimes felt, when convoying a distinguished +stranger through its precincts to its door, that he might question +whether star-eyed Science had not missed her way when she found herself +in this not too attractive locality. I cannot regret that we--you, I +should say--are soon to migrate to a more favored region, and carry on +your work as teachers and as learners in ampler halls and under far more +favorable conditions. + +I hope that I may have the privilege of meeting you there, possibly may +be allowed to add my words of welcome to those of my former colleagues, +and in that pleasing anticipation I bid good-by to this scene of my long +labors, and, for the present at least, to the friends with whom I have +been associated. + + + + +APPENDUM + + + + +NOTES TO THE ADDRESS ON CURRENTS AND COUNTER +CURRENTS IN MEDICAL SCIENCE. + +Some passages contained in the original manuscript of the Address, and +omitted in the delivery on account of its length, are restored in the +text or incorporated with these Notes. + + + +NOTE A.-- + +There is good reason to doubt whether the nitrate of silver has any real +efficacy in epilepsy. It has seemed to cure many cases, but epilepsy is +a very uncertain disease, and there is hardly anything which has not been +supposed to cure it. Dr. Copland cites many authorities in its favor, +most especially Lombard's cases. But De la Berge and Monneret (Comp. de +Med. Paris), 1839, analyze these same cases, eleven in number, and can +only draw the inference of a very questionable value in the supposed +remedy. Dr. James Jackson says that relief of epilepsy is not to be +attained by any medicine with which he is acquainted, but by diet. +(Letters to a Young Physician, p. 67.) Guy Patin, Dean of the Faculty of +Paris, Professor at the Royal College, Author of the Antimonial +Martyrology, a wit and a man of sense and learning, who died almost two +hundred years ago, had come to the same conclusion, though the chemists +of his time boasted of their remedies. "Did, you ever see a case of +epilepsy cured by nitrate of silver?" I said to one of the oldest and +most experienced surgeons in this country. "Never," was his instant +reply. Dr. Twitchell's experience was very similar. How, then, did +nitrate of silver come to be given for epilepsy? Because, as Dr. Martin +has so well reminded us, lunatics were considered formerly to be under +the special influence of Luna, the moon (which Esquirol, be it observed, +utterly denies), and lunar caustic, or nitrate of silver, is a salt of +that metal which was called luna from its whiteness, and of course must +be in the closest relations with the moon. It follows beyond all +reasonable question that the moon's metal, silver, and its preparations, +must be the specific remedy for moonblasted maniacs and epileptics! + +Yet the practitioner who prescribes the nitrate of silver supposes he is +guided by the solemn experience of the past, instead of by its idle +fancies. He laughs at those old physicians who placed such confidence in +the right hind hoof of an elk as a remedy for the same disease, and +leaves the record of his own belief in a treatment quite as fanciful and +far more objectionable, written in indelible ink upon a living tablet +where he who runs may read it for a whole generation, if nature spares +his walking advertisement so long. + + + +NOTE B.-- + +The presumption that a man is innocent until he is proved guilty, does +not mean that there are no rogues, but lays the onus probandi on the +party to which it properly belongs. So with this proposition. A noxious +agent should never be employed in sickness unless there is ample evidence +in the particular case to overcome the general presumption against all +such agents, and the evidence is very apt to be defective. + +The miserable delusion of Homoeopathy builds itself upon an axiom +directly the opposite of this; namely, that the sick are to be cured by +poisons. Similia similibus curantur means exactly this. It is simply a +theory of universal poisoning, nullified in practice by the infinitesimal +contrivance. The only way to kill it and all similar fancies, and to +throw every quack nostrum into discredit, is to root out completely the +suckers of the old rotten superstition that whatever is odious or noxious +is likely to be good for disease. The current of sound practice with +ourselves is, I believe, setting fast in the direction I have indicated +in the above proposition. To uphold the exhibition of noxious agents in +disease, as the rule, instead of admitting them cautiously and +reluctantly as the exception, is, as I think, an eddy of opinion in the +direction of the barbarism out of which we believe our art is escaping. +It is only through the enlightened sentiment and action of the Medical +Profession that the community can be brought to acknowledge that drugs +should always be regarded as evils. + +It is true that some suppose, and our scientific and thoughtful +associate, Dr. Gould, has half countenanced the opinion, that there may +yet be discovered a specific for every disease. Let us not despair of +the future, but let us be moderate in our expectations. When an oil is +discovered that will make a bad watch keep good time; when a recipe is +given which will turn an acephalous foetus into a promising child; when a +man can enter the second time into his mother's womb and give her back +the infirmities which twenty generations have stirred into her blood, and +infused into his own through hers, we may be prepared to enlarge the +National Pharmacopoeia with a list of specifies for everything but old +age,--and possibly for that also. + + + +NOTE C.-- + +The term specific is used here in its ordinary sense, without raising the +question of the propriety of its application to these or other remedies. + +The credit of introducing Cinchona rests between the Jesuits, the +Countess of Chinchon, the Cardinal de Lugo, and Sir Robert Talbor, who +employed it as a secret remedy. (Pereira.) Mercury as an internal +specific remedy was brought into use by that impudent and presumptuous +quack, as he was considered, Paracelsus. (Encyc. Brit. art. +"Paracelsus.") Arsenic was introduced into England as a remedy for +intermittents by Dr. Fowler, in consequence of the success of a patent +medicine, the Tasteless Ague Drops, which were supposed, "probably with +reason," to be a preparation of that mineral. (Rees's Cyc. art. +"Arsenic.") Colchicum came into notice in a similar way, from the +success of the Eau Medicinale of M. Husson, a French military officer. +(Pereira.) Iodine was discovered by a saltpetre manufacturer, but applied +by a physician in place of the old remedy, burnt sponge, which seems to +owe its efficacy to it. (Dunglison, New Remedies.) As for Sulphur, "the +common people have long used it as an ointment" for scabies. (Rees's +Cyc. art. "Scabies.") The modern cantiscorbutic regimen is credited to +Captain Cook. "To his sagacity we are indebted for the first impulse to +those regulations by which scorbutus is so successfully prevented in our +navy." (Lond. Cyc. Prac. Med. art. "Scorbutus.") Iron and various +salts which enter into the normal composition of the human body do not +belong to the materia medica by our definition, but to the materia +alimentaria. + +For the first introduction of iron as a remedy, see Pereira, who gives a +very curious old story. + +The statement in the text concerning a portion of the materia medica +stands exactly as delivered, and is meant exactly as it stands. No +denunciation of drugs, as sparingly employed by a wise physician, was or +is intended. If, however, as Dr. Gould stated in his "valuable and +practical discourse" to which the Massachusetts Medical Society "listened +with profit as well as interest," "Drugs, in themselves considered, may +always be regarded as evils,"--any one who chooses may question whether +the evils from their abuse are, on the whole, greater or less than the +undoubted benefits obtained from their proper use. The large exception +of opium, wine, specifics, and anaesthetics, made in the text, takes off +enough from the useful side, as I fully believe, to turn the balance; so +that a vessel containing none of these, but loaded with antimony, +strychnine, acetate of lead, aloes, aconite, lobelia, lapis infernalis, +stercus diaboli, tormentilla, and other approved, and, in skilful hands, +really useful remedies, brings, on the whole, more harm than good to the +port it enters. + +It is a very narrow and unjust view of the practice of medicine, to +suppose it to consist altogether in the use of powerful drugs, or of +drugs of any kind. Far from it. "The physician may do very much for the +welfare of the sick, more than others can do, although he does not, even +in the major part of cases, undertake to control and overcome the disease +by art. It was with these views that I never reported any patient cured +at our hospital. Those who recovered their health were reported as well; +not implying that they were made so by the active treatment they had +received there. But it was to be understood that all patients received +in that house were to be cured, that is, taken care of." (Letters to a +Young Physician, by James Jackson, M. D., Boston, 1855.) + +"Hygienic rules, properly enforced, fresh air, change of air, travel, +attention to diet, good and appropriate food judiciously regulated, +together with the administration of our tonics, porter, ale, wine, iron, +etc., supply the diseased or impoverished system with what Mr. Gull, of +St. Bartholomew's Hospital, aptly calls the 'raw material of the blood;' +and we believe that if any real improvement has taken place in medical +practice, independently of those truly valuable contributions we have +before described, it is in the substitution of tonics, stimulants, and +general management, for drastic cathartics, for bleeding, depressing +agents, including mercury, tartar emetics, etc., so much in vogue during +the early part even of this century." (F. P. Porcher, in Charleston Med. +Journal and Review for January, 1860.) 1860.) + + + + + + +JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY. + +A MEMOIR, Complete + +By Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. + + + +Volume I. + + +NOTE. + +The Memoir here given to the public is based on a biographical sketch +prepared by the writer at the request of the Massachusetts Historical +Society for its Proceedings. The questions involving controversies into +which the Society could not feel called to enter are treated at +considerable length in the following pages. Many details are also given +which would have carried the paper written for the Society beyond the +customary limits of such tributes to the memory of its deceased members. +It is still but an outline which may serve a present need and perhaps be +of some assistance to a future biographer. + + + + +I. + +1814-1827. To AEt. 13. +BIRTH AND EARLY YEARS. + +John Motley, the great-grandfather of the subject of this Memoir, came in +the earlier part of the last century from Belfast in Ireland to Falmouth, +now Portland, in the District, now the State of Maine. He was twice +married, and had ten children, four of the first marriage and six of the +last. Thomas, the youngest son by his first wife, married Emma, a +daughter of John Wait, the first Sheriff of Cumberland County under the +government of the United States. Two of their seven sons, Thomas and +Edward, removed from Portland to Boston in 1802 and established +themselves as partners in commercial business, continuing united and +prosperous for nearly half a century before the firm was dissolved. + +The earlier records of New England have preserved the memory of an +incident which deserves mention as showing how the historian's life was +saved by a quickwitted handmaid, more than a hundred years before he was +born. On the 29th of August, 1708, the French and Indians from Canada +made an attack upon the town of Haverhill, in Massachusetts. Thirty or +forty persons were slaughtered, and many others were carried captive into +Canada. + +The minister of the town, Rev. Benjamin Rolfe, was killed by a bullet +through the door of his house. Two of his daughters, Mary, aged thirteen, +and Elizabeth, aged nine, were sleeping in a room with the maid-servant, +Hagar. When Hagar heard the whoop of the savages she seized the children, +ran with them into the cellar, and, after concealing them under two large +washtubs, hid herself. The Indians ransacked the cellar, but missed the +prey. Elizabeth, the younger of the two girls, grew up and married the +Rev. Samuel Checkley, first minister of the "New South" Church, Boston. +Her son, Rev. Samuel Checkley, Junior, was minister of the Second Church, +and his successor, Rev. John Lothrop, or Lathrop, as it was more commonly +spelled, married his daughter. Dr. Lothrop was great-grandson of Rev. +John Lothrop, of Scituate, who had been imprisoned in England for +nonconformity. The Checkleys were from Preston Capes, in +Northamptonshire. The name is probably identical with that of the +Chicheles or Chichleys, a well-known Northamptonshire family. + +Thomas Motley married Anna, daughter of the Rev. John Lothrop, +granddaughter of the Rev. Samuel Checkley, Junior, the two ministers +mentioned above, both honored in their day and generation. Eight children +were born of this marriage, of whom four are still living. + +JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY, the second of these children, was born in +Dorchester, now a part of Boston, Massachusetts, on the 15th of April, +1814. A member of his family gives a most pleasing and interesting +picture, from his own recollections and from what his mother told him, of +the childhood which was to develop into such rich maturity. The boy was +rather delicate in organization, and not much given to outdoor +amusements, except skating and swimming, of which last exercise he was +very fond in his young days, and in which he excelled. He was a great +reader, never idle, but always had a book in his hand,--a volume of +poetry or one of the novels of Scott or Cooper. His fondness for plays +and declamation is illustrated by the story told by a younger brother, +who remembers being wrapped up in a shawl and kept quiet by sweetmeats, +while he figured as the dead Caesar, and his brother, the future +historian, delivered the speech of Antony over his prostrate body. He was +of a most sensitive nature, easily excited, but not tenacious of any +irritated feelings, with a quick sense of honor, and the most entirely +truthful child, his mother used to say, that she had ever seen. Such are +some of the recollections of those who knew him in his earliest years and +in the most intimate relations. + +His father's family was at this time living in the house No. 7 Walnut +Street, looking down Chestnut Street over the water to the western hills. +Near by, at the corner of Beacon Street, was the residence of the family +of the first mayor of Boston, and at a little distance from the opposite +corner was the house of one of the fathers of New England manufacturing +enterprise, a man of superior intellect, who built up a great name and +fortune in our city. The children from these three homes naturally became +playmates. Mr. Motley's house was a very hospitable one, and Lothrop and +two of his young companions were allowed to carry out their schemes of +amusement in the garden and the garret. If one with a prescient glance +could have looked into that garret on some Saturday afternoon while our +century was not far advanced in its second score of years, he might have +found three boys in cloaks and doublets and plumed hats, heroes and +bandits, enacting more or less impromptu melodramas. In one of the boys +he would have seen the embryo dramatist of a nation's life history, John +Lothrop Motley; in the second, a famous talker and wit who has spilled +more good things on the wasteful air in conversation than would carry a +"diner-out" through half a dozen London seasons, and waked up somewhat +after the usual flowering-time of authorship to find himself a very +agreeable and cordially welcomed writer,--Thomas Gold Appleton. In the +third he would have recognized a champion of liberty known wherever that +word is spoken, an orator whom to hear is to revive all the traditions of +the grace, the address, the commanding sway of the silver-tongued +eloquence of the most renowned speakers,--Wendell Phillips. + +Both of young Motley's playmates have furnished me with recollections of +him and of those around him at this period of his life, and I cannot do +better than borrow freely from their communications. His father was a man +of decided character, social, vivacious, witty, a lover of books, and +himself not unknown as a writer, being the author of one or more of the +well remembered "Jack Downing" letters. He was fond of having the boys +read to him from such authors as Channing and Irving, and criticised +their way of reading with discriminating judgment and taste. Mrs. Motley +was a woman who could not be looked upon without admiration. I remember +well the sweet dignity of her aspect, her "regal beauty," as Mr. Phillips +truly styles it, and the charm of her serene and noble presence, which +made her the type of a perfect motherhood. Her character corresponded to +the promise of her gracious aspect. She was one of the fondest of +mothers, but not thoughtlessly indulgent to the boy from whom she hoped +and expected more than she thought it wise to let him know. The story +used to be current that in their younger days this father and mother were +the handsomest pair the town of Boston could show. This son of theirs was +"rather tall," says Mr. Phillips, "lithe, very graceful in movement and +gesture, and there was something marked and admirable in the set of his +head on his shoulders,"--a peculiar elegance which was most noticeable in +those later days when I knew him. Lady Byron long afterwards spoke of him +as more like her husband in appearance than any other person she had met; +but Mr. Phillips, who remembers the first bloom of his boyhood and youth, +thinks he was handsomer than any portrait of Byron represents the poet. +"He could not have been eleven years old," says the same correspondent, +"when he began writing a novel. It opened, I remember, not with one +solitary horseman, but with two, riding up to an inn in the valley of the +Housatonic. Neither of us had ever seen the Housatonic, but it sounded +grand and romantic. Two chapters were finished." + +There is not much remembered of the single summer he passed at Mr. +Green's school at Jamaica Plain. From that school he went to Round Hill, +Northampton, then under the care of Mr. Cogswell and Mr. Bancroft. The +historian of the United States could hardly have dreamed that the +handsome boy of ten years was to take his place at the side of his +teacher in the first rank of writers in his own department. Motley came +to Round Hill, as one of his schoolmates tells me, with a great +reputation, especially as a declaimer. He had a remarkable facility for +acquiring languages, excelled as a reader and as a writer, and was the +object of general admiration for his many gifts. There is some reason to +think that the flattery he received was for a time a hindrance to his +progress and the development of his character. He obtained praise too +easily, and learned to trust too much to his genius. He had everything to +spoil him,--beauty, precocious intelligence, and a personal charm which +might have made him a universal favorite. Yet he does not seem to have +been generally popular at this period of his life. He was wilful, +impetuous, sometimes supercilious, always fastidious. He would study as +he liked, and not by rule. His school and college mates believed in his +great possibilities through all his forming period, but it may be doubted +if those who counted most confidently on his future could have supposed +that he would develop the heroic power of concentration, the +long-breathed tenacity of purpose, which in after years gave effect to +his brilliant mental endowments. "I did wonder," says Mr. Wendell +Phillips, "at the diligence and painstaking, the drudgery shown in his +historical works. In early life he had no industry, not needing it. All +he cared for in a book he caught quickly,--the spirit of it, and all his +mind needed or would use. This quickness of apprehension was marvellous." +I do not find from the recollections of his schoolmates at Northampton +that he was reproached for any grave offences, though he may have +wandered beyond the prescribed boundaries now and then, and studied +according to his inclinations rather than by rule. While at that school +he made one acquisition much less common then than now,--a knowledge of +the German language and some degree of acquaintance with its literature, +under the guidance of one of the few thorough German scholars this +country then possessed, Mr. George Bancroft. + + + + +II. + +1827-1831. AEt. 13-17. +COLLEGE LIFE. + +Such then was the boy who at the immature, we might almost say the +tender, age of thirteen entered Harvard College. Though two years after +me in college standing, I remember the boyish reputation which he brought +with him, especially that of a wonderful linguist, and the impression +which his striking personal beauty produced upon us as he took his seat +in the college chapel. But it was not until long after this period that I +became intimately acquainted with him, and I must again have recourse to +the classmates and friends who have favored me with their reminiscences +of this period of his life. Mr. Phillips says: + + "During our first year in college, though the youngest in the class, + he stood third, I think, or second in college rank, and ours was an + especially able class. Yet to maintain this rank he neither cared + nor needed to make any effort. Too young to feel any + responsibilities, and not yet awake to any ambition, he became so + negligent that he was 'rusticated' [that is, sent away from college + for a time]. He came back sobered, and worked rather more, but with + no effort for college rank thenceforward." + +I must finish the portrait of the collegian with all its lights and +shadows by the help of the same friends from whom I have borrowed the +preceding outlines. + +He did not care to make acquaintances, was haughty in manner and cynical +in mood, at least as he appeared to those in whom he felt no special +interest. It is no wonder, therefore, that he was not a popular favorite, +although recognized as having very brilliant qualities. During all this +period his mind was doubtless fermenting with projects which kept him in +a fevered and irritable condition. "He had a small writing-table," Mr. +Phillips says, "with a shallow drawer; I have often seen it half full of +sketches, unfinished poems, soliloquies, a scene or two of a play, prose +portraits of some pet character, etc. These he would read to me, though +he never volunteered to do so, and every now and then he burnt the whole +and began to fill the drawer again." + +My friend, Mr. John Osborne Sargent, who was a year before him in +college, says, in a very interesting letter with which he has favored me: + + "My first acquaintance with him [Motley] was at Cambridge, when he + came from Mr. Cogswell's school at Round Hill. He then had a good + deal of the shyness that was just pronounced enough to make him + interesting, and which did not entirely wear off till he left + college. . . I soon became acquainted with him, and we used to take + long walks together, sometimes taxing each other's memory for poems + or passages from poems that had struck our fancy. Shelley was then + a great favorite of his, and I remember that Praed's verses then + appearing in the 'New Monthly' he thought very clever and brilliant, + and was fond of repeating them. You have forgotten, or perhaps + never knew, that Motley's first appearance in print was in the + 'Collegian.' He brought me one day, in a very modest mood, a + translation from Goethe, which I was most happy to oblige him by + inserting. It was very prettily done, and will now be a curiosity. + . . . How it happened that Motley wrote only one piece I do not + remember. I had the pleasure about that time of initiating him as a + member of the Knights of the Square Table,--always my favorite + college club, for the reason, perhaps, that I was a sometime Grand + Master. He was always a genial and jovial companion at our supper- + parties at Fresh Pond and Gallagher's." + +We who live in the days of photographs know how many faces belong to +every individual. We know too under what different aspects the same +character appears to those who study it from different points of view and +with different prepossessions. I do not hesitate, therefore, to place +side by side the impressions of two of his classmates as to one of his +personal traits as they observed him at this period of his youth. + + "He was a manly boy, with no love for or leaning to girls' company; + no care for dress; not a trace of personal vanity. . . . He was, + or at least seemed, wholly unconscious of his rare beauty and of the + fascination of his manner; not a trace of pretence, the simplest and + most natural creature in the world." + +Look on that picture and on this:-- + + "He seemed to have a passion for dress. But as in everything else, + so in this, his fancy was a fitful one. At one time he would excite + our admiration by the splendor of his outfit, and perhaps the next + week he would seem to take equal pleasure in his slovenly or + careless appearance." + +It is not very difficult to reconcile these two portraitures. I recollect +it was said by a witty lady of a handsome clergyman well remembered among +us, that he had dressy eyes. Motley so well became everything he wore, +that if he had sprung from his bed and slipped his clothes on at an alarm +of fire, his costume would have looked like a prince's undress. His +natural presentment, like that of Count D'Orsay, was of the kind which +suggests the intentional effects of an elaborate toilet, no matter how +little thought or care may have been given to make it effective. I think +the "passion for dress" was really only a seeming, and that he often +excited admiration when he had not taken half the pains to adorn himself +that many a youth less favored by nature has wasted upon his unblest +exterior only to be laughed at. + +I gather some other interesting facts from a letter which I have received +from his early playmate and school and college classmate, Mr. T. G. +Appleton. + + "In his Sophomore year he kept abreast of the prescribed studies, + but his heart was out of bounds, as it often had been at Round Hill + when chasing squirrels or rabbits through forbidden forests. + Already his historical interest was shaping his life. A tutor + coming-by chance, let us hope--to his room remonstrated with him + upon the heaps of novels upon his table. + +"'Yes,' said Motley, 'I am reading historically, and have come to the +novels of the nineteenth century. Taken in the lump, they are very hard +reading.'" + +All Old Cambridge people know the Brattle House, with its gambrel roof, +its tall trees, its perennial spring, its legendary fame of good fare and +hospitable board in the days of the kindly old bon vivant, Major Brattle. +In this house the two young students, Appleton and Motley, lived during a +part of their college course. + + "Motley's room was on the ground floor, the room to the left of the + entrance. He led a very pleasant life there, tempering his college + duties with the literature he loved, and receiving his friends + amidst elegant surroundings, which added to the charm of his + society. Occasionally we amused ourselves by writing for the + magazines and papers of the day. Mr. Willis had just started a slim + monthly, written chiefly by himself, but with the true magazine + flavor. We wrote for that, and sometimes verses in the corner of a + paper called 'The Anti-Masonic Mirror,' and in which corner was a + woodcut of Apollo, and inviting to destruction ambitious youths by + the legend underneath,-- + + 'Much yet remains unsung.' + + These pieces were usually dictated to each other, the poet recumbent + upon the bed and a classmate ready to carry off the manuscript for + the paper of the following day. 'Blackwood's' was then in its + glory, its pages redolent of 'mountain dew' in every sense; the + humor of the Shepherd, the elegantly brutal onslaughts upon Whigs + and Cockney poets by Christopher North, intoxicated us youths. + + "It was young writing, and made for the young. The opinions were + charmingly wrong, and its enthusiasm was half Glenlivet. But this + delighted the boys. There were no reprints then, and to pass the + paper-cutter up the fresh inviting pages was like swinging over the + heather arm in arm with Christopher himself. It is a little + singular that though we had a college magazine of our own, Motley + rarely if ever wrote for it. I remember a translation from Goethe, + 'The Ghost-Seer,' which he may have written for it, and a poem upon + the White Mountains. Motley spoke at one of the college exhibitions + an essay on Goethe so excellent that Mr. Joseph Cogswell sent it to + Madam Goethe, who, after reading it, said, 'I wish to see the first + book that young man will write.'" + +Although Motley did not aim at or attain a high college rank, the rules +of the Phi Beta Kappa Society, which confine the number of members to the +first sixteen of each class, were stretched so as to include him,--a +tribute to his recognized ability, and an evidence that a distinguished +future was anticipated for him. + + + + +III. + +1832-1833. AEt. 18-19. +STUDY AND TRAVEL IN EUROPE. + +Of the two years divided between the Universities of Berlin and Gottingen +I have little to record. That he studied hard I cannot doubt; that he +found himself in pleasant social relations with some of his +fellow-students seems probable from the portraits he has drawn in his +first story, "Morton's Hope," and is rendered certain so far as one of +his companions is concerned. Among the records of the past to which he +referred during his last visit to this country was a letter which he took +from a collection of papers and handed me to read one day when I was +visiting him. The letter was written in a very lively and exceedingly +familiar vein. It implied such intimacy, and called up in such a lively +way the gay times Motley and himself had had together in their youthful +days, that I was puzzled to guess who could have addressed him from +Germany in that easy and off-hand fashion. I knew most of his old friends +who would be likely to call him by his baptismal name in its most +colloquial form, and exhausted my stock of guesses unsuccessfully before +looking at the signature. I confess that I was surprised, after laughing +at the hearty and almost boyish tone of the letter, to read at the bottom +of the page the signature of Bismarck. I will not say that I suspect +Motley of having drawn the portrait of his friend in one of the +characters of "Morton's Hope," but it is not hard to point out traits in +one of them which we can believe may have belonged to the great +Chancellor at an earlier period of life than that at which the world +contemplates his overshadowing proportions. + +Hoping to learn something of Motley during the two years while we had +lost sight of him, I addressed a letter to His Highness Prince Bismarck, +to which I received the following reply:-- + + FOREIGN OFFICE, BERLIN, March 11, 1878. + + SIR,--I am directed by Prince Bismarck to acknowledge the receipt of + your letter of the 1st of January, relating to the biography of the + late Mr. Motley. His Highness deeply regrets that the state of his + health and pressure of business do not allow him to contribute + personally, and as largely as he would be delighted to do, to your + depicting of a friend whose memory will be ever dear to him. Since + I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Mr. Motley at + Varzin, I have been intrusted with communicating to you a few + details I have gathered from the mouth of the Prince. I enclose + them as they are jotted down, without any attempt of digestion. + + I have the honor to be + Your obedient servant, + LOTHAIR BUCHER. + + "Prince Bismarck said:-- + + "'I met Motley at Gottingen in 1832, I am not sure if at the + beginning of Easter Term or Michaelmas Term. He kept company with + German students, though more addicted to study than we members of + the fighting clubs (corps). Although not having mastered yet the + German language, he exercised a marked attraction by a conversation + sparkling with wit, humor, and originality. In autumn of 1833, + having both of us migrated from Gottingen to Berlin for the + prosecution of our studies, we became fellow-lodgers in the house + No. 161 Friedrich Strasse. There we lived in the closest intimacy, + sharing meals and outdoor exercise. Motley by that time had arrived + at talking German fluently; he occupied himself not only in + translating Goethe's poem "Faust," but tried his hand even in + composing German verses. Enthusiastic admirer of Shakespeare, + Byron, Goethe, he used to spice his conversation abundantly with + quotations from these his favorite authors. A pertinacious arguer, + so much so that sometimes he watched my awakening in order to + continue a discussion on some topic of science, poetry, or practical + life, cut short by the chime of the small hours, he never lost his + mild and amiable temper. Our faithful companion was Count Alexander + Keyserling, a native of Courland, who has since achieved distinction + as a botanist. + + "'Motley having entered the diplomatic service of his country, we + had frequently the opportunity of renewing our friendly intercourse; + at Frankfort he used to stay with me, the welcome guest of my wife; + we also met at Vienna, and, later, here. The last time I saw him + was in 1872 at Varzin, at the celebration of my "silver wedding," + namely, the twenty-fifth anniversary. + + "'The most striking feature of his handsome and delicate appearance + was uncommonly large and beautiful eyes. He never entered a + drawing-room without exciting the curiosity and sympathy of the + ladies.'" + +It is but a glimpse of their young life which the great statesman gives +us, but a bright and pleasing one. Here were three students, one of whom +was to range in the flowery fields of the loveliest of the sciences, +another to make the dead past live over again in his burning pages, and a +third to extend an empire as the botanist spread out a plant and the +historian laid open a manuscript. + + + + +IV. + +1834-1839. 2ET. 20-25. + +RETURN TO AMERICA.--STUDY OF LAW.--MARRIAGE.--HIS FIRST NOVEL, "MORTON'S +HOPE." + +Of the years passed in the study of law after his return from Germany I +have very little recollection, and nothing of importance to record. He +never became seriously engaged in the practice of the profession he had +chosen. I had known him pleasantly rather than intimately, and our +different callings tended to separate us. I met him, however, not very +rarely, at one house where we were both received with the greatest +cordiality, and where the attractions brought together many both young +and old to enjoy the society of its charming and brilliant inmates. This +was at No. 14 Temple Place, where Mr. Park Benjamin was then living with +his two sisters, both in the bloom of young womanhood. Here Motley found +the wife to whom his life owed so much of its success and its happiness. +Those who remember Mary Benjamin find it hard to speak of her in the +common terms of praise which they award to the good and the lovely. She +was not only handsome and amiable and agreeable, but there was a cordial +frankness, an openhearted sincerity about her which made her seem like a +sister to those who could help becoming her lovers. She stands quite +apart in the memory of the friends who knew her best, even from the +circle of young persons whose recollections they most cherish. Yet hardly +could one of them have foreseen all that she was to be to him whose life +she was to share. They were married on the 2d of March, 1837. His +intimate friend, Mr. Joseph Lewis Stackpole, was married at about the +same time to her sister, thus joining still more closely in friendship +the two young men who were already like brothers in their mutual +affection. + +Two years after his marriage, in 1839, appeared his first work, a novel +in two volumes, called "Morton's Hope." He had little reason to be +gratified with its reception. The general verdict was not favorable to +it, and the leading critical journal of America, not usually harsh or +cynical in its treatment of native authorship, did not even give it a +place among its "Critical Notices," but dropped a small-print +extinguisher upon it in one of the pages of its "List of New +Publications." Nothing could be more utterly disheartening than the +unqualified condemnation passed upon the story. At the same time the +critic says that "no one can read 'Morton's Hope' without perceiving it +to have been written by a person of uncommon resources of mind and +scholarship." + +It must be confessed that, as a story, "Morton's Hope" cannot endure a +searching or even a moderately careful criticism. It is wanting in +cohesion, in character, even in a proper regard to circumstances of time +and place; it is a map of dissected incidents which has been flung out of +its box and has arranged itself without the least regard to chronology or +geography. It is not difficult to trace in it many of the influences +which had helped in forming or deforming the mind of the young man of +twenty-five, not yet come into possession of his full inheritance of the +slowly ripening qualities which were yet to assert their robust +independence. How could he help admiring Byron and falling into more or +less unconscious imitation of his moods if not of his special +affectations? Passion showing itself off against a dark foil of cynicism; +sentiment, ashamed of its own self-betrayal, and sneering at itself from +time to time for fear of the laugh of the world at its sincerity,--how +many young men were spoiled and how many more injured by becoming bad +copies of a bad ideal! The blood of Don Juan ran in the veins of Vivian +Grey and of Pelham. But if we read the fantastic dreams of Disraeli, the +intellectual dandyisms of Bulwer, remembering the after careers of which +these were the preludes, we can understand how there might well be +something in those earlier efforts which would betray itself in the way +of thought and in the style of the young men who read them during the +plastic period of their minds and characters. Allow for all these +influences, allow for whatever impressions his German residence and his +familiarity with German literature had produced; accept the fact that the +story is to the last degree disjointed, improbable, impossible; lay it +aside as a complete failure in what it attempted to be, and read it, as +"Vivian Grey" is now read, in the light of the career which it heralded. + +"Morton's Hope" is not to be read as a novel: it is to be studied as an +autobiography, a prophecy, a record of aspirations, disguised under a +series of incidents which are flung together with no more regard to the +unities than a pack of shuffled playing-cards. I can do nothing better +than let him picture himself, for it is impossible not to recognize the +portrait. It is of little consequence whether every trait is an exact +copy from his own features, but it is so obvious that many of the lines +are direct transcripts from nature that we may believe the same thing of +many others. Let us compare his fictitious hero's story with what we have +read of his own life. + +In early boyhood Morton amused himself and astonished those about him by +enacting plays for a puppet theatre. This was at six years old, and at +twelve we find him acting in a play with other boys, just as Motley's +playmates have already described him. The hero may now speak for himself, +but we shall all perceive that we are listening to the writer's own +story. + + "I was always a huge reader; my mind was essentially craving and + insatiable. Its appetite was enormous, and it devoured too greedily + for health. I rejected all guidance in my studies. I already + fancied myself a misanthrope. I had taken a step very common for + boys of my age, and strove with all my might to be a cynic." + +He goes on to describe, under the perfectly transparent mask of his hero, +the course of his studies. "To poetry, like most infants, I devoted most +of my time." From modern poetry he went back to the earlier sources, +first with the idea of systematic reading and at last through Chaucer and +Gower and early ballads, until he lost himself "in a dismal swamp of +barbarous romances and lying Latin chronicles. I got hold of the +Bibliotheca Monastica, containing a copious account of Anglo-Norman +authors, with notices of their works, and set seriously to reading every +one of them." One profit of his antiquarianism, however, was, as he says, +his attention to foreign languages,--French, Spanish, German, especially +in their earliest and rudest forms of literature. From these he ascended +to the ancient poets, and from Latin to Greek. He would have taken up the +study of the Oriental languages, but for the advice of a relative, who +begged him seriously to turn his attention to history. The paragraph +which follows must speak for itself as a true record under a feigned +heading. + + "The groundwork of my early character was plasticity and fickleness. + I was mortified by this exposure of my ignorance, and disgusted with + my former course of reading. I now set myself violently to the + study of history. With my turn of mind, and with the preposterous + habits which I had been daily acquiring, I could not fail to make as + gross mistakes in the pursuit of this as of other branches of + knowledge. I imagined, on setting out, a system of strict and + impartial investigation of the sources of history. I was inspired + with the absurd ambition, not uncommon to youthful students, of + knowing as much as their masters. I imagined it necessary for me, + stripling as I was, to study the authorities; and, imbued with the + strict necessity of judging for myself, I turned from the limpid + pages of the modern historians to the notes and authorities at the + bottom of the page. These, of course, sent me back to my monastic + acquaintances, and I again found myself in such congenial company to + a youthful and ardent mind as Florence of Worcester and Simeon of + Durham, the Venerable Bede and Matthew Paris; and so on to Gregory + and Fredegarius, down to the more modern and elegant pages of + Froissart, Hollinshed, Hooker, and Stowe. Infant as I was, I + presumed to grapple with masses of learning almost beyond the + strength of the giants of history. A spendthrift of my time and + labor, I went out of my way to collect materials, and to build for + myself, when I should have known that older and abler architects had + already appropriated all that was worth preserving; that the edifice + was built, the quarry exhausted, and that I was, consequently, only + delving amidst rubbish. + + "This course of study was not absolutely without its advantages. + The mind gained a certain proportion of vigor even by this exercise + of its faculties, just as my bodily health would have been improved + by transporting the refuse ore of a mine from one pit to another, + instead of coining the ingots which lay heaped before my eyes. + Still, however, my time was squandered. There was a constant want + of fitness and concentration of my energies. My dreams of education + were boundless, brilliant, indefinite; but alas! they were only + dreams. There was nothing accurate and defined in my future course + of life. I was ambitious and conceited, but my aspirations were + vague and shapeless. I had crowded together the most gorgeous and + even some of the most useful and durable materials for my woof, but + I had no pattern, and consequently never began to weave. + + "I had not made the discovery that an individual cannot learn, nor + be, everything; that the world is a factory in which each individual + must perform his portion of work:--happy enough if he can choose it + according to his taste and talent, but must renounce the desire of + observing or superintending the whole operation. . . . + + "From studying and investigating the sources of history with my own + eyes, I went a step further; I refused the guidance of modern + writers; and proceeding from one point of presumption to another, I + came to the magnanimous conviction that I could not know history as + I ought to know it unless I wrote it for myself. . . . + + "It would be tedious and useless to enlarge upon my various attempts + and various failures. I forbear to comment upon mistakes which I + was in time wise enough to retrieve. Pushing out as I did, without + compass and without experience, on the boundless ocean of learning, + what could I expect but an utter and a hopeless shipwreck? + + "Thus I went on, becoming more learned, and therefore more ignorant, + more confused in my brain, and more awkward in my habits, from day + to day. I was ever at my studies, and could hardly be prevailed + upon to allot a moment to exercise or recreation. I breakfasted + with a pen behind my ear, and dined in company with a folio bigger + than the table. I became solitary and morose, the necessary + consequence of reckless study; talked impatiently of the value of my + time, and the immensity of my labors; spoke contemptuously of the + learning and acquirements of the whole world, and threw out + mysterious hints of the magnitude and importance of my own project. + + "In the midst of all this study and this infant authorship the + perusal of such masses of poetry could not fail to produce their + effect. Of a youth whose mind, like mine at that period, possessed + some general capability, without perhaps a single prominent and + marked talent, a proneness to imitation is sure to be the besetting + sin. I consequently, for a large portion of my earlier life, never + read a work which struck my fancy, without planning a better one + upon its model; for my ambition, like my vanity, knew no bounds. + It was a matter of course that I should be attacked by the poetic + mania. I took the infection at the usual time, went through its + various stages, and recovered as soon as could be expected. I + discovered soon enough that emulation is not capability, and he is + fortunate to whom is soonest revealed the relative extent of his + ambition and his powers. + + "My ambition was boundless; my dreams of glory were not confined to + authorship and literature alone; but every sphere in which the + intellect of man exerts itself revolved in a blaze of light before + me. And there I sat in my solitude and dreamed such wondrous + dreams! Events were thickening around me which were soon to change + the world, but they were unmarked by me. The country was changing + to a mighty theatre, on whose stage those who were as great as I + fancied myself to be were to enact a stupendous drama in which I had + no part. I saw it not; I knew it not; and yet how infinitely + beautiful were the imaginations of my solitude! Fancy shook her + kaleidoscope each moment as chance directed, and lo! what new, + fantastic, brilliant, but what unmeaning visions. My ambitious + anticipations were as boundless as they were various and + conflicting. There was not a path which leads to glory in which I + was not destined to gather laurels. As a warrior I would conquer + and overrun the world. As a statesman I would reorganize and govern + it. As a historian I would consign it all to immortality; and in my + leisure moments I would be a great poet and a man of the world. + + "In short, I was already enrolled in that large category of what are + called young men of genius,--men who are the pride of their sisters + and the glory of their grandmothers,--men of whom unheard-of things + are expected, till after long preparation comes a portentous + failure, and then they are forgotten; subsiding into indifferent + apprentices and attorneys' clerks. + + "Alas for the golden imaginations of our youth! They are bright and + beautiful, but they fade. They glitter brightly enough to deceive + the wisest and most cautious, and we garner them up in the most + secret caskets of our hearts; but are they not like the coins which + the Dervise gave the merchant in the story? When we look for them + the next morning, do we not find them withered leaves?" + +The ideal picture just drawn is only a fuller portraiture of the youth +whose outlines have been already sketched by the companions of his +earlier years. If his hero says, "I breakfasted with a pen behind my ear +and dined in company with a folio bigger than the table," one of his +family says of the boy Motley that "if there were five minutes before +dinner, when he came into the parlor he always took up some book near at +hand and began to read until dinner was announced." The same unbounded +thirst for knowledge, the same history of various attempts and various +failures, the same ambition, not yet fixed in its aim, but showing itself +in restless effort, belong to the hero of the story and its narrator. + +Let no man despise the first efforts of immature genius. Nothing can be +more crude as a novel, nothing more disappointing, than "Morton's Hope." +But in no other of Motley's writings do we get such an inside view of his +character with its varied impulses, its capricious appetites, its +unregulated forces, its impatient grasp for all kinds of knowledge. With +all his university experiences at home and abroad, it might be said with +a large measure of truth that he was a self-educated man, as he had been +a self-taught boy. His instincts were too powerful to let him work +quietly in the common round of school and college training. Looking at +him as his companions describe him, as he delineates himself 'mutato +nomine,' the chances of success would have seemed to all but truly +prophetic eyes very doubtful, if not decidedly against him. Too many +brilliant young novel-readers and lovers of poetry, excused by their +admirers for their shortcomings on the strength of their supposed +birthright of "genius," have ended where they began; flattered into the +vain belief that they were men at eighteen or twenty, and finding out at +fifty that they were and always had been nothing more than boys. It was +but a tangled skein of life that Motley's book showed us at twenty-five, +and older men might well have doubted whether it would ever be wound off +in any continuous thread. To repeat his own words, he had crowded +together the materials for his work, but he had no pattern, and +consequently never began to weave. + +The more this first work of Motley's is examined, the more are its faults +as a story and its interest as a self-revelation made manifest to the +reader. The future historian, who spared no pains to be accurate, falls +into the most extraordinary anachronisms in almost every chapter. Brutus +in a bob-wig, Othello in a swallow-tail coat, could hardly be more +incongruously equipped than some of his characters in the manner of +thought, the phrases, the way of bearing themselves which belong to them +in the tale, but never could have belonged to characters of our +Revolutionary period. He goes so far in his carelessness as to mix up +dates in such a way as almost to convince us that he never looked over +his own manuscript or proofs. His hero is in Prague in June, 1777, +reading a letter received from America in less than a fortnight from the +date of its being written; in August of the same year he is in the +American camp, where he is found in the company of a certain Colonel +Waldron, an officer of some standing in the Revolutionary Army, with whom +he is said to have been constantly associated for some three months, +having arrived in America, as he says, on the 15th of May, that is to +say, six weeks or more before he sailed, according to his previous +account. Bohemia seems to have bewitched his chronology as it did +Shakespeare's geography. To have made his story a consistent series of +contradictions, Morton should have sailed from that Bohemian seashore +which may be found in "A Winter's Tale," but not in the map of Europe. + +And yet in the midst of all these marks of haste and negligence, here and +there the philosophical student of history betrays himself, the ideal of +noble achievement glows in an eloquent paragraph, or is embodied in a +loving portrait like that of the professor and historian Harlem. The +novel, taken in connection with the subsequent developments of the +writer's mind, is a study of singular interest. It is a chaos before the +creative epoch; the light has not been divided from the darkness; the +firmament has not yet divided the waters from the waters. The forces at +work in a human intelligence to bring harmony out of its discordant +movements are as mysterious, as miraculous, we might truly say, as those +which give shape and order to the confused materials out of which +habitable worlds are evolved. It is too late now to be sensitive over +this unsuccessful attempt as a story and unconscious success as a +self-portraiture. The first sketches of Paul Veronese, the first patterns +of the Gobelin tapestry, are not to be criticised for the sake of +pointing out their inevitable and too manifest imperfections. They are to +be carefully studied as the earliest efforts of the hand which painted +the Marriage at Cana, of the art which taught the rude fabrics made to be +trodden under foot to rival the glowing canvas of the great painters. +None of Motley's subsequent writings give such an insight into his +character and mental history. It took many years to train the as yet +undisciplined powers into orderly obedience, and to bring the unarranged +materials into the organic connection which was needed in the +construction of a work that should endure. There was a long interval +between his early manhood and the middle term of life, during which the +slow process of evolution was going on. There are plants which open their +flowers with the first rays of the sun; there are others that wait until +evening to spread their petals. It was already the high noon of life with +him before his genius had truly shown itself; if he had not lived beyond +this period, he would have left nothing to give him a lasting name. + + + + +V. + +1841-1842. AEt. 27-28. + +FIRST DIPLOMATIC APPOINTMENT, SECRETARY OF LEGATION TO THE RUSSIAN +MISSION.--BRIEF RESIDENCE AT ST. PETERSBURG.--LETTER TO HIS MOTHER. +--RETURN. + +In the autumn of 1841, Mr. Motley received the appointment of Secretary +of Legation to the Russian Mission, Mr. Todd being then the Minister. +Arriving at St. Petersburg just at the beginning of winter, he found the +climate acting very unfavorably upon his spirits if not upon his health, +and was unwilling that his wife and his two young children should be +exposed to its rigors. The expense of living, also, was out of proportion +to his income, and his letters show that he had hardly established +himself in St. Petersburg before he had made up his mind to leave a place +where he found he had nothing to do and little to enjoy. He was homesick, +too, as a young husband and father with an affectionate nature like his +ought to have been under these circumstances. He did not regret having +made the experiment, for he knew that he should not have been satisfied +with himself if he had not made it. It was his first trial of a career in +which he contemplated embarking, and in which afterwards he had an +eventful experience. In his private letters to his family, many of which +I have had the privilege of looking over, he mentions in detail all the +reasons which influenced him in forming his own opinion about the +expediency of a continued residence at St. Petersburg, and leaves the +decision to her in whose judgment he always had the greatest confidence. +No unpleasant circumstance attended his resignation of his secretaryship, +and though it must have been a disappointment to find that the place did +not suit him, as he and his family were then situated, it was only at the +worst an experiment fairly tried and not proving satisfactory. He left +St. Petersburg after a few months' residence, and returned to America. On +reaching New York he was met by the sad tidings of the death of his +first-born child, a boy of great promise, who had called out all the +affections of his ardent nature. It was long before he recovered from the +shock of this great affliction. The boy had shown a very quick and bright +intelligence, and his father often betrayed a pride in his gifts and +graces which he never for a moment made apparent in regard to his own. + +Among the letters which he wrote from St. Petersburg are two miniature +ones directed to this little boy. His affectionate disposition shows +itself very sweetly in these touching mementos of a love of which his +first great sorrow was so soon to be born. Not less charming are his +letters to his mother, showing the tenderness with which he always +regarded her, and full of all the details which he thought would +entertain one to whom all that related to her children was always +interesting. Of the letters to his wife it is needless to say more than +that they always show the depth of the love he bore her and the absolute +trust he placed in her, consulting her at all times as his nearest and +wisest friend and adviser,--one in all respects fitted "To warn, to +comfort, and command." + +I extract a passage from one of his letters to his mother, as much for +the sake of lending a character of reality to his brief residence at St. +Petersburg as for that of the pleasant picture it gives us of an interior +in that Northern capital. + + "We entered through a small vestibule, with the usual arrangement of + treble doors, padded with leather to exclude the cold and guarded by + two 'proud young porters' in severe cocked hats and formidable + batons, into a broad hall,--threw off our furred boots and cloaks, + ascended a carpeted marble staircase, in every angle of which stood + a statuesque footman in gaudy coat and unblemished unmentionables, + and reached a broad landing upon the top thronged as usual with + servants. Thence we passed through an antechamber into a long, + high, brilliantly lighted, saffron-papered room, in which a dozen + card-tables were arranged, and thence into the receiving room. This + was a large room, with a splendidly inlaid and polished floor, the + walls covered with crimson satin, the cornices heavily incrusted + with gold, and the ceiling beautifully painted in arabesque. The + massive fauteuils and sofas, as also the drapery, were of crimson + satin with a profusion of gilding. The ubiquitous portrait of the + Emperor was the only picture, and was the same you see everywhere. + This crimson room had two doors upon the side facing the three + windows: The innermost opened into a large supper-room, in which a + table was spread covered with the usual refreshments of European + parties,--tea, ices, lemonade, and et ceteras,--and the other opened + into a ball-room which is a sort of miniature of the 'salle blanche' + of the Winter Palace, being white and gold, and very brilliantly + lighted with 'ormolu' chandeliers filled with myriads of candles. + This room (at least forty feet long by perhaps twenty-five) opened + into a carpeted conservatory of about the same size, filled with + orange-trees and japonica plants covered with fruit and flowers, + arranged very gracefully into arbors, with luxurious seats under the + pendent boughs, and with here and there a pretty marble statue + gleaming through the green and glossy leaves. One might almost have + imagined one's self in the 'land of the cypress and myrtle' instead + of our actual whereabout upon the polar banks of the Neva. + Wandering through these mimic groves, or reposing from the fatigues + of the dance, was many a fair and graceful form, while the + brilliantly lighted ballroom, filled with hundreds of exquisitely + dressed women (for the Russian ladies, if not very pretty, are + graceful, and make admirable toilettes), formed a dazzling contrast + with the tempered light of the 'Winter Garden.' The conservatory + opened into a library, and from the library you reach the + antechamber, thus completing the 'giro' of one of the prettiest + houses in St. Petersburg. I waltzed one waltz and quadrilled one + quadrille, but it was hard work; and as the sole occupation of these + parties is dancing and card-playing--conversation apparently not + being customary--they are to me not very attractive." + +He could not be happy alone, and there were good reasons against his +being joined by his wife and children. + + "With my reserved habits," he says, "it would take a great deal + longer to become intimate here than to thaw the Baltic. I have only + to 'knock that it shall be opened to me,' but that is just what I + hate to do. . . . 'Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither.'" + +Disappointed in his expectations, but happy in the thought of meeting his +wife and children, he came back to his household to find it clad in +mourning for the loss of its first-born. + + + + +VI. + +1844. AEt. 30. +LETTER TO PARK BENJAMIN.--POLITICAL VIEWS AND FEELINGS. + +A letter to Mr. Park Benjamin, dated December 17, 1844, which has been +kindly lent me by Mrs. Mary Lanman Douw of Poughkeepsie, gives a very +complete and spirited account of himself at this period. He begins with a +quiet, but tender reference to the death of his younger brother, Preble, +one of the most beautiful youths seen or remembered among us, "a great +favorite," as he says, "in the family and in deed with every one who knew +him." He mentions the fact that his friends and near connections, the +Stackpoles, are in Washington, which place he considers as exceptionally +odious at the time when he is writing. The election of Mr. Polk as the +opponent of Henry Clay gives him a discouraged feeling about our +institutions. The question, he thinks, is now settled that a statesman +can never again be called to administer the government of the country. He +is almost if not quite in despair "because it is now proved that a man, +take him for all in all, better qualified by intellectual power, energy +and purity of character, knowledge of men, a great combination of +personal qualities, a frank, high-spirited, manly bearing, keen sense of +honor, the power of attracting and winning men, united with a vast +experience in affairs, such as no man (but John Quincy Adams) now living +has had and no man in this country can ever have again,--I say it is +proved that a man better qualified by an extraordinary combination of +advantages to administer the government than any man now living, or any +man we can ever produce again, can be beaten by anybody. . . . . It has +taken forty years of public life to prepare such a man for the +Presidency, and the result is that he can be beaten by anybody,--Mr. Polk +is anybody,--he is Mr. Quelconque." + +I do not venture to quote the most burning sentences of this impassioned +letter. It shows that Motley had not only become interested most +profoundly in the general movements of parties, but that he had followed +the course of political events which resulted in the election of Mr. Polk +with careful study, and that he was already looking forward to the revolt +of the slave States which occurred sixteen years later. The letter is +full of fiery eloquence, now and then extravagant and even violent in +expression, but throbbing with a generous heat which shows the excitable +spirit of a man who wishes to be proud of his country and does not wish +to keep his temper when its acts make him ashamed of it. He is disgusted +and indignant to the last degree at seeing "Mr. Quelconque" chosen over +the illustrious statesman who was his favorite candidate. But all his +indignation cannot repress a sense of humor which was one of his marked +characteristics. After fatiguing his vocabulary with hard usage, after +his unsparing denunciation of "the very dirty politics" which he finds +mixed up with our popular institutions, he says,--it must be remembered +that this was an offhand letter to one nearly connected with him,-- + + "All these things must in short, to use the energetic language of + the Balm of Columbia advertisement, 'bring every generous thinking + youth to that heavy sinking gloom which not even the loss of + property can produce, but only the loss of hair, which brings on + premature decay, causing many to shrink from being uncovered, and + even to shun society, to avoid the jests and sneers of their + acquaintances. The remainder of their lives is consequently spent + in retirement.'" + +He continues:-- + + "Before dropping the subject, and to show the perfect purity of my + motives, I will add that I am not at all anxious about the + legislation of the new government. I desired the election of Clay + as a moral triumph, and because the administration of the country, + at this moment of ten thousand times more importance than its + legislation, would have been placed in pure, strong, and determined + hands." + +Then comes a dash of that satirical and somewhat cynical way of feeling +which he had not as yet outgrown. He had been speaking about the general +want of attachment to the Union and the absence of the sentiment of +loyalty as bearing on the probable dissolution of the Union. + + "I don't mean to express any opinions on these matters,--I haven't + got any. It seems to me that the best way is to look at the + hodge-podge, be good-natured if possible, and laugh, + + 'As from the height of contemplation + We view the feeble joints men totter on.' + + I began a tremendous political career during the election, having + made two stump speeches of an hour and a half each,--after you went + away,--one in Dedham town-hall and one in Jamaica Plain, with such + eminent success that many invitations came to me from the + surrounding villages, and if I had continued in active political + life I might have risen to be vote-distributor, or fence-viewer, or + selectman, or hog-reeve, or something of the kind." + +The letter from which the above passages are quoted gives the same +portrait of the writer, only seen in profile, as it were, which we have +already seen drawn in full face in the story of "Morton's Hope." It is +charged with that 'saeva indignatio' which at times verges on +misanthropic contempt for its objects, not unnatural to a high-spirited +young man who sees his lofty ideals confronted with the ignoble facts +which strew the highways of political life. But we can recognize real +conviction and the deepest feeling beneath his scornful rhetoric and his +bitter laugh. He was no more a mere dilettante than Swift himself, but +now and then in the midst of his most serious thought some absurd or +grotesque image will obtrude itself, and one is reminded of the lines on +the monument of Gay rather than of the fierce epitaph of the Dean of +Saint Patrick's. + + + + +VII. + +1845-1847. AEt. 31-33. + +FIRST HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL ESSAYS.--PETER THE GREAT.--NOVELS OF +BALZAC.--POLITY OF THE PURITANS. + +Mr. Motley's first serious effort in historical composition was an +article of fifty pages in "The North American Review" for October, 1845. +This was nominally a notice of two works, one on Russia, the other "A +Memoir of the Life of Peter the Great." It is, however, a narrative +rather than a criticism, a rapid, continuous, brilliant, almost dramatic +narrative. If there had been any question as to whether the young +novelist who had missed his first mark had in him the elements which +might give him success as an author, this essay would have settled the +question. It shows throughout that the writer has made a thorough study +of his subject, but it is written with an easy and abundant, yet +scholarly freedom, not as if he were surrounded by his authorities and +picking out his material piece by piece, but rather as if it were the +overflow of long-pursued and well-remembered studies recalled without +effort and poured forth almost as a recreation. + +As he betrayed or revealed his personality in his first novel, so in this +first effort in another department of literature he showed in epitome his +qualities as a historian and a biographer. The hero of his narrative +makes his entrance at once in his character as the shipwright of Saardam, +on the occasion of a visit of the great Duke of Marlborough. The portrait +instantly arrests attention. His ideal personages had been drawn in such +a sketchy way, they presented so many imperfectly harmonized features, +that they never became real, with the exception, of course, of the +story-teller himself. But the vigor with which the presentment of the +imperial ship-carpenter, the sturdy, savage, eager, fiery Peter, was +given in the few opening sentences, showed the movement of the hand, the +glow of the color, that were in due time to display on a broader canvas +the full-length portraits of William the Silent and of John of Barneveld. +The style of the whole article is rich, fluent, picturesque, with light +touches of humor here and there, and perhaps a trace or two of youthful +jauntiness, not quite as yet outgrown. His illustrative poetical +quotations are mostly from Shakespeare,--from Milton and Byron also in a +passage or two,--and now and then one is reminded that he is not +unfamiliar with Carlyle's "Sartor Resartus" and the "French Revolution" +of the same unmistakable writer, more perhaps by the way in which phrases +borrowed from other authorities are set in the text than by any more +important evidence of unconscious imitation. + +The readers who had shaken their heads over the unsuccessful story of +"Morton's Hope" were startled by the appearance of this manly and +scholarly essay. This young man, it seemed, had been studying,--studying +with careful accuracy, with broad purpose. He could paint a character +with the ruddy life-blood coloring it as warmly as it glows in the cheeks +of one of Van der Helst's burgomasters. He could sweep the horizon in a +wide general outlook, and manage his perspective and his lights and +shadows so as to place and accent his special subject with its due relief +and just relations. It was a sketch, or rather a study for a larger +picture, but it betrayed the hand of a master. The feeling of many was +that expressed in the words of Mr. Longfellow in his review of the +"Twice-Told Tales" of the unknown young writer, Nathaniel Hawthorne: +"When a new star rises in the heavens, people gaze after it for a season +with the naked eye, and with such telescopes as they may find. . . . This +star is but newly risen; and erelong the observation of numerous +star-gazers, perched up on arm-chairs and editor's tables, will inform +the world of its magnitude and its place in the heaven of"--not poetry in +this instance, but that serene and unclouded region of the firmament +where shine unchanging the names of Herodotus and Thucydides. Those who +had always believed in their brilliant schoolmate and friend at last felt +themselves justified in their faith. The artist that sent this unframed +picture to be hung in a corner of the literary gallery was equal to +larger tasks. There was but one voice in the circle that surrounded the +young essayist. He must redeem his pledge, he can and will redeem it, if +he will only follow the bent of his genius and grapple with the heroic +labor of writing a great history. + +And this was the achievement he was already meditating. + +In the mean time he was studying history for its facts and principles, +and fiction for its scenery and portraits. In "The North American Review" +for July, 1847, is a long and characteristic article on Balzac, of whom +he was an admirer, but with no blind worship. The readers of this great +story-teller, who was so long in obtaining recognition, who "made twenty +assaults upon fame and had forty books killed under him" before he +achieved success, will find his genius fully appreciated and fairly +weighed in this discriminating essay. A few brief extracts will show its +quality. + + "Balzac is an artist, and only an artist. In his tranquil, + unimpassioned, remorseless diagnosis of morbid phenomena, in his + cool method of treating the morbid anatomy of the heart, in his + curiously accurate dissection of the passions, in the patient and + painful attention with which, stethoscope in hand, finger on pulse, + eye everywhere, you see him watching every symptom, alive to every + sound and every breath, and in the scientific accuracy with which he + portrays the phenomena which have been the subject of his + investigation,--in all this calm and conscientious study of nature + he often reminds us of Goethe. Balzac, however, is only an artist + . . . He is neither moral nor immoral, but a calm and profound + observer of human society and human passions, and a minute, patient, + and powerful delineator of scenes and characters in the world before + his eyes. His readers must moralize for themselves. . . . It + is, perhaps, his defective style more than anything else which will + prevent his becoming a classic, for style above all other qualities + seems to embalm for posterity. As for his philosophy, his + principles, moral, political, or social, we repeat that he seems to + have none whatever. He looks for the picturesque and the striking. + He studies sentiments and sensations from an artistic point of view. + He is a physiognomist, a physiologist, a bit of an anatomist, a bit + of a mesmerist, a bit of a geologist, a Flemish painter, an + upholsterer, a micrological, misanthropical, sceptical philosopher; + but he is no moralist, and certainly no reformer." + +Another article contributed by Mr. Motley to "The North American Review" +is to be found in the number for October, 1849. It is nominally a review +of Talvi's (Mrs. Robinson's) "Geschichte der Colonisation von New +England," but in reality an essay on the Polity of the Puritans,--an +historical disquisition on the principles of self-government evolved in +New England, broad in its views, eloquent in its language. Its spirit is +thoroughly American, and its estimate of the Puritan character is not +narrowed by the nearsighted liberalism which sees the past in the +pitiless light of the present,--which looks around at high noon and finds +fault with early dawn for its long and dark shadows. Here is a sentence +or two from the article:-- + + "With all the faults of the system devised by the Puritans, it was a + practical system. With all their foibles, with all their teasing, + tyrannical, and arbitrary notions, the Pilgrims were lovers of + liberty as well as sticklers for authority. . . . Nowhere can a + better description of liberty be found than that given by Winthrop, + in his defence of himself before the General Court on a charge of + arbitrary conduct. 'Nor would I have you mistake your own liberty,' + he says. 'There is a freedom of doing what we list, without regard + to law or justice; this liberty is indeed inconsistent with + authority; but civil, moral, and federal liberty consists in every + man's enjoying his property and having the benefit of the laws of + his country; which is very consistent with a due subjection to the + civil magistrate.' . . . + + "We enjoy an inestimable advantage in America. One can be a + republican, a democrat, without being a radical. A radical, one who + would uproot, is a man whose trade is dangerous to society. Here is + but little to uproot. The trade cannot flourish. All classes are + conservative by necessity, for none can wish to change the structure + of our polity. . . + + "The country without a past cannot be intoxicated by visions of the + past of other lands. Upon this absence of the past it seems to us + that much of the security of our institutions depends. Nothing + interferes with the development of what is now felt to be the true + principle of government, the will of the people legitimately + expressed. To establish that great truth, nothing was to be torn + down, nothing to be uprooted. It grew up in New England out of the + seed unconsciously planted by the first Pilgrims, was not crushed + out by the weight of a thousand years of error spread over the whole + continent, and the Revolution was proclaimed and recognized." + + + + +VIII. + +1847-1849. AEt. 33-35. + +JOSEPH LEWIS STACKPOLE, THE FRIEND OF MOTLEY. HIS SUDDEN DEATH.--MOTLEY +IN THE MASSACHUSETTS HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES.--SECOND NOVEL, +"MERRY-MOUNT, A ROMANCE OF THE MASSACHUSETTS COLONY." + +The intimate friendships of early manhood are not very often kept up +among our people. The eager pursuit of fortune, position, office, +separates young friends, and the indoor home life imprisons them in the +domestic circle so generally that it is quite exceptional to find two +grown men who are like brothers,--or rather unlike most brothers, in +being constantly found together. An exceptional instance of such a more +than fraternal relation was seen in the friendship of Mr. Motley and Mr. +Joseph Lewis Stackpole. Mr. William Amory, who knew them both well, has +kindly furnished me with some recollections, which I cannot improve by +changing his own language. + + "Their intimacy began in Europe, and they returned to this country + in 1835. In 1837 they married sisters, and this cemented their + intimacy, which continued to Stackpole's death in 1847. The + contrast in the temperament of the two friends--the one sensitive + and irritable, and the other always cool and good-natured--only + increased their mutual attachment to each other, and Motley's + dependence upon Stackpole. Never were two friends more constantly + together or more affectionately fond of each other. As Stackpole + was about eight years older than Motley, and much less impulsive and + more discreet, his death was to his friend irreparable, and at the + time an overwhelming blow." + +Mr. Stackpole was a man of great intelligence, of remarkable personal +attractions, and amiable character. His death was a loss to Motley even +greater than he knew, for he needed just such a friend, older, calmer, +more experienced in the ways of the world, and above all capable of +thoroughly understanding him and exercising a wholesome influence over +his excitable nature without the seeming of a Mentor preaching to a +Telemachus. Mr. Stackpole was killed by a railroad accident on the 20th +of July, 1847. + +In the same letter Mr. Amory refers to a very different experience in Mr. +Motley's life,--his one year of service as a member of the Massachusetts +House of Representatives, 1849. + + "In respect to the one term during which he was a member of the + Massachusetts House of Representatives, I can recall only one thing, + to which he often and laughingly alluded. Motley, as the Chairman + of the Committee on Education, made, as he thought, a most masterly + report. It was very elaborate, and, as he supposed, unanswerable; + but Boutwell, then a young man from some country town [Groton, + Mass.], rose, and as Motley always said, demolished the report, so + that he was unable to defend it against the attack. You can imagine + his disgust, after the pains he had taken to render it unassailable, + to find himself, as he expressed it, 'on his own dunghill,' + ignominiously beaten. While the result exalted his opinion of the + speech-making faculty of a Representative of a common school + education, it at the same time cured him of any ambition for + political promotion in Massachusetts." + +To my letter of inquiry about this matter, Hon. George S. Boutwell +courteously returned the following answer:-- + + BOSTON, October 14, 1878. + + MY DEAR SIR,--As my memory serves me, Mr. Motley was a member of the + Massachusetts House of Representatives in the year 1847 1849. It + may be well to consult the manual for that year. I recollect the + controversy over the report from the Committee on Education. + + His failure was not due to his want of faculty or to the vigor of + his opponents. + + In truth he espoused the weak side of the question and the unpopular + one also. His proposition was to endow the colleges at the expense + of the fund for the support of the common schools. Failure was + inevitable. Neither Webster nor Choate could have carried the bill. + + Very truly, + GEO. S. BOUTWELL. + +No one could be more ready and willing to recognize his own failures than +Motley. He was as honest and manly, perhaps I may say as sympathetic with +the feeling of those about him, on this occasion, as was Charles Lamb, +who, sitting with his sister in the front of the pit, on the night when +his farce was damned at its first representation, gave way to the common +feeling, and hissed and hooted lustily with the others around him. It was +what might be expected from his honest and truthful nature, sometimes too +severe in judging itself. + +The commendation bestowed upon Motley's historical essays in "The North +American Review" must have gone far towards compensating him for the ill +success of his earlier venture. It pointed clearly towards the field in +which he was to gather his laurels. And it was in the year following the +publication of the first essay, or about that time (1846), that he began +collecting materials for a history of Holland. Whether to tell the story +of men that have lived and of events that have happened, or to create the +characters and invent the incidents of an imaginary tale be the higher +task, we need not stop to discuss. But the young author was just now like +the great actor in Sir Joshua's picture, between the allurements of +Thalia and Melpomene, still doubtful whether he was to be a romancer or a +historian. + +The tale of which the title is given at the beginning of this section had +been written several years before the date of its publication. It is a +great advance in certain respects over the first novel, but wants the +peculiar interest which belonged to that as a partially autobiographical +memoir. The story is no longer disjointed and impossible. It is carefully +studied in regard to its main facts. It has less to remind us of "Vivian +Grey" and "Pelham," and more that recalls "Woodstock" and "Kenilworth." +The personages were many of them historical, though idealized; the +occurrences were many of them such as the record authenticated; the +localities were drawn largely from nature. The story betrays marks of +haste or carelessness in some portions, though others are elaborately +studied. His preface shows that the reception of his first book had made +him timid and sensitive about the fate of the second, and explains and +excuses what might be found fault with, to disarm the criticism he had +some reason to fear. + +That old watch-dog of our American literature, "The North American +Review," always ready with lambent phrases in stately "Articles" for +native talent of a certain pretension, and wagging its appendix of +"Critical Notices" kindly at the advent of humbler merit, treated +"Merry-Mount" with the distinction implied in a review of nearly twenty +pages. This was a great contrast to the brief and slighting notice of +"Morton's Hope." The reviewer thinks the author's descriptive power +wholly exceeds his conception of character and invention of +circumstances. + + "He dwells, perhaps, too long and fondly upon his imagination of the + landscape as it was before the stillness of the forest had been + broken by the axe of the settler; but the picture is so finely + drawn, with so much beauty of language and purity of sentiment, that + we cannot blame him for lingering upon the scene. . . . The + story is not managed with much skill, but it has variety enough of + incident and character, and is told with so much liveliness that few + will be inclined to lay it down before reaching the conclusion. . + . . The writer certainly needs practice in elaborating the details + of a consistent and interesting novel; but in many respects he is + well qualified for the task, and we shall be glad to meet him again + on the half-historical ground he has chosen. His present work, + certainly, is not a fair specimen of what he is able to accomplish, + and its failure, or partial success, ought only to inspirit him for + further effort." + +The "half-historical ground" he had chosen had already led him to the +entrance into the broader domain of history. The "further effort" for +which he was to be inspirited had already begun. He had been for some +time, as was before mentioned, collecting materials for the work which +was to cast all his former attempts into the kindly shadow of oblivion, +save when from time to time the light of his brilliant after success is +thrown upon them to illustrate the path by which it was at length +attained. + + + + +IX. + +1850. AEt. 36. +PLAN OF A HISTORY.--LETTERS. + +The reputation of Mr. Prescott was now coextensive with the realm of +scholarship. The histories of the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella and of +the conquest of Mexico had met with a reception which might well tempt +the ambition of a young writer to emulate it, but which was not likely to +be awarded to any second candidate who should enter the field in rivalry +with the great and universally popular historian. But this was the field +on which Mr. Motley was to venture. + +After he had chosen the subject of the history he contemplated, he found +that Mr. Prescott was occupied with a kindred one, so that there might be +too near a coincidence between them. I must borrow from Mr. Ticknor's +beautiful life of Prescott the words which introduce a letter of Motley's +to Mr. William Amory, who has kindly allowed me also to make use of it. + + "The moment, therefore, that he [Mr. Motley] was aware of this + condition of things, and the consequent possibility that there might + be an untoward interference in their plans, he took the same frank + and honorable course with Mr. Prescott that Mr. Prescott had taken + in relation to Mr. Irving, when he found that they had both been + contemplating a 'History of the Conquest of Mexico.' The result was + the same. Mr. Prescott, instead of treating the matter as an + interference, earnestly encouraged Mr. Motley to go on, and placed + at his disposition such of the books in his library as could be most + useful to him. How amply and promptly he did it, Mr. Motley's own + account will best show. It is in a letter dated at Rome, 26th + February, 1859, the day he heard of Mr. Prescott's death, and was + addressed to his intimate friend, Mr. William Amory, of Boston, Mr. + Prescott's much-loved brother-in-law." + + "It seems to me but as yesterday," Mr. Motley writes, "though it + must be now twelve years ago, that I was talking with our + ever-lamented friend Stackpole about my intention of writing a history + upon a subject to which I have since that time been devoting myself. + I had then made already some general studies in reference to it, + without being in the least aware that Prescott had the intention of + writing the 'History of Philip the Second.' Stackpole had heard the + fact, and that large preparations had already been made for the + work, although 'Peru' had not yet been published. I felt naturally + much disappointed. I was conscious of the immense disadvantage to + myself of making my appearance, probably at the same time, before + the public, with a work not at all similar in plan to 'Philip the + Second,' but which must of necessity traverse a portion of the same + ground. + + "My first thought was inevitably, as it were, only of myself. + It seemed to me that I had nothing to do but to abandon at once a + cherished dream, and probably to renounce authorship. For I had not + first made up my mind to write a history, and then cast about to + take up a subject. My subject had taken me up, drawn me on, and + absorbed me into itself. It was necessary for me, it seemed, to + write the book I had been thinking much of, even if it were destined + to fall dead from the press, and I had no inclination or interest to + write any other. When I had made up my mind accordingly, it then + occurred to me that Prescott might not be pleased that I should come + forward upon his ground. It is true that no announcement of his + intentions had been made, and that he had not, I believe, even + commenced his preliminary studies for Philip. At the same time I + thought it would be disloyal on my part not to go to him at once, + confer with him on the subject, and if I should find a shadow of + dissatisfaction on his mind at my proposition, to abandon my plan + altogether. + + "I had only the slightest acquaintance with him at that time. I was + comparatively a young man, and certainly not entitled on any ground + to more than the common courtesy which Prescott never could refuse + to any one. But he received me with such a frank and ready and + liberal sympathy, and such an open-hearted, guileless expansiveness, + that I felt a personal affection for him from that hour. I remember + the interview as if it had taken place yesterday. It was in his + father's house, in his own library, looking on the garden-house and + garden,--honored father and illustrious son,--alas! all numbered + with the things that were! He assured me that he had not the + slightest objection whatever to my plan, that he wished me every + success, and that, if there were any books in his library bearing on + my subject that I liked to use, they were entirely at my service. + After I had expressed my gratitude for his kindness and cordiality, + by which I had been in a very few moments set completely at ease, + --so far as my fears of his disapprobation went,--I also very + naturally stated my opinion that the danger was entirely mine, and + that it was rather wilful of me thus to risk such a collision at my + first venture, the probable consequence of which was utter + shipwreck. I recollect how kindly and warmly he combated this + opinion, assuring me that no two books, as he said, ever injured + each other, and encouraging me in the warmest and most earnest + manner to proceed on the course I had marked out for myself. + + "Had the result of that interview been different,--had he distinctly + stated, or even vaguely hinted, that it would be as well if I should + select some other topic, or had he only sprinkled me with the cold + water of conventional and commonplace encouragement,--I should have + gone from him with a chill upon my mind, and, no doubt, have laid + down the pen at once; for, as I have already said, it was not that I + cared about writing a history, but that I felt an inevitable impulse + to write one particular history. + + "You know how kindly he always spoke of and to me; and the generous + manner in which, without the slightest hint from me, and entirely + unexpected by me, he attracted the eyes of his hosts of readers to + my forthcoming work, by so handsomely alluding to it in the Preface + to his own, must be almost as fresh in your memory as it is in mine. + + "And although it seems easy enough for a man of world-wide + reputation thus to extend the right hand of fellowship to an unknown + and struggling aspirant, yet I fear that the history of literature + will show that such instances of disinterested kindness are as rare + as they are noble." + +It was not from any feeling that Mr. Motley was a young writer from whose +rivalry he had nothing to apprehend. Mr. Amory says that Prescott +expressed himself very decidedly to the effect that an author who had +written such descriptive passages as were to be found in Mr. Motley's +published writings was not to be undervalued as a competitor by any one. +The reader who will turn to the description of Charles River in the +eighth chapter of the second volume of "Merry-Mount," or of the autumnal +woods in the sixteenth chapter of the same volume, will see good reason +for Mr. Prescott's appreciation of the force of the rival whose advent he +so heartily and generously welcomed. + + + + +X. + +1851-1856. AEt. 37-42. +HISTORICAL STUDIES IN EUROPE.-LETTER FROM BRUSSELS. + +After working for several years on his projected "History of the Dutch +Republic," he found that, in order to do justice to his subject, he must +have recourse to the authorities to be found only in the libraries and +state archives of Europe. In the year 1851 he left America with his +family, to begin his task over again, throwing aside all that he had +already done, and following up his new course of investigations at +Berlin, Dresden, the Hague, and Brussels during several succeeding years. +I do not know that I can give a better idea of his mode of life during +this busy period, his occupations, his state of mind, his objects of +interest outside of his special work, than by making the following +extracts from a long letter to myself, dated Brussels, 20th November, +1853. + +After some personal matters he continued:-- + + "I don't really know what to say to you. I am in a town which, for + aught I know, may be very gay. I don't know a living soul in it. + We have not a single acquaintance in the place, and we glory in the + fact. There is something rather sublime in thus floating on a + single spar in the wide sea of a populous, busy, fuming, fussy world + like this. At any rate it is consonant to both our tastes. You may + suppose, however, that I find it rather difficult to amuse my + friends out of the incidents of so isolated an existence. Our daily + career is very regular and monotonous. Our life is as stagnant as a + Dutch canal. Not that I complain of it,--on the contrary, the canal + may be richly freighted with merchandise and be a short cut to the + ocean of abundant and perpetual knowledge; but, at the same time, + few points rise above the level of so regular a life, to be worthy + of your notice. You must, therefore, allow me to meander along the + meadows of commonplace. Don't expect anything of the impetuous and + boiling style. We go it weak here. I don't know whether you were + ever in Brussels. It is a striking, picturesque town, built up a + steep promontory, the old part at the bottom, very dingy and mouldy, + the new part at the top, very showy and elegant. Nothing can be + more exquisite in its way than the grande place in the very heart of + the city, surrounded with those toppling, zigzag, ten-storied + buildings bedizened all over with ornaments and emblems so peculiar + to the Netherlands, with the brocaded Hotel de Ville on one side, + with its impossible spire rising some three hundred and seventy feet + into the air and embroidered to the top with the delicacy of needle- + work, sugarwork, spider-work, or what you will. I haunt this place + because it is my scene, my theatre. Here were enacted so many deep + tragedies, so many stately dramas, and even so many farces, which + have been familiar to me so long that I have got to imagine myself + invested with a kind of property in the place, and look at it as if + it were merely the theatre with the coulisses, machinery, drapery, + etc., for representing scenes which have long since vanished, and + which no more enter the minds of the men and women who are actually + moving across its pavements than if they had occurred in the moon. + When I say that I knew no soul in Brussels I am perhaps wrong. With + the present generation I am not familiar. 'En revanche,' the dead + men of the place are my intimate friends. I am at home in any + cemetery. With the fellows of the sixteenth century I am on the + most familiar terms. Any ghost that ever flits by night across the + moonlight square is at once hailed by me as a man and a brother. I + call him by his Christian name at once. When you come out of this + place, however, which, as I said, is in the heart of the town,--the + antique gem in the modern setting,--you may go either up or down. + If you go down, you will find yourself in the very nastiest + complications of lanes and culs-de-sac possible, a dark entanglement + of gin-shops, beer-houses, and hovels, through which charming valley + dribbles the Senne (whence, I suppose, is derived Senna), the most + nauseous little river in the world, which receives all the + outpourings of all the drains and houses, and is then converted into + beer for the inhabitants, all the many breweries being directly upon + its edge. If you go up the hill instead of down, you come to an + arrangement of squares, palaces, and gardens as trim and fashionable + as you will find in Europe. Thus you see that our Cybele sits with + her head crowned with very stately towers and her feet in a tub of + very dirty water. + + "My habits here for the present year are very regular. I came here, + having, as I thought, finished my work, or rather the first Part + (something like three or four volumes, 8vo), but I find so much + original matter here, and so many emendations to make, that I am + ready to despair. However, there is nothing for it but to + penelopize, pull to pieces, and stitch away again. Whatever may be + the result of my labor, nobody can say that I have not worked like + a brute beast,--but I don't care for the result. The labor is in + itself its own reward and all I want. I go day after day to the + archives here (as I went all summer at the Hague), studying the old + letters and documents of the fifteenth century. Here I remain among + my fellow-worms, feeding on these musty mulberry-leaves, out of + which we are afterwards to spin our silk. How can you expect + anything interesting from such a human cocoon? It is, however, not + without its amusement in a mouldy sort of way, this reading of dead + letters. It is something to read the real, bona fide signs-manual + of such fellows as William of Orange, Count Egmont, Alexander + Farnese, Philip II., Cardinal Granvelle, and the rest of them. It + gives a 'realizing sense,' as the Americans have it. . . . There + are not many public resources of amusement in this place,--if we + wanted them,--which we don't. I miss the Dresden Gallery very much, + and it makes me sad to think that I shall never look at the face of + the Sistine Madonna again,--that picture beyond all pictures in the + world, in which the artist certainly did get to heaven and painted a + face which was never seen on earth--so pathetic, so gentle, so + passionless, so prophetic. . . . There are a few good Rubenses + here,--but the great wealth of that master is in Antwerp. The great + picture of the Descent from the Cross is free again, after having + been ten years in the repairing room. It has come out in very good + condition. What a picture? It seems to me as if I had really stood + at the cross and seen Mary weeping on John's shoulder, and Magdalen + receiving the dead body of the Saviour in her arms. Never was the + grand tragedy represented in so profound and dramatic a manner. For + it is not only in his color in which this man so easily surpasses + all the world, but in his life-like, flesh-and-blood action,--the + tragic power of his composition. And is it not appalling to think + of the 'large constitution of this man,' when you reflect on the + acres of canvas which he has covered? How inspiriting to see with + what muscular, masculine vigor this splendid Fleming rushed in and + plucked up drowning Art by the locks when it was sinking in the + trashy sea of such creatures as the Luca Giordanos and Pietro + Cortonas and the like. Well might Guido exclaim, 'The fellow mixes + blood with his colors! . . . How providentially did the man come + in and invoke living, breathing, moving men and women out of his + canvas! Sometimes he is ranting and exaggerated, as are all men of + great genius who wrestle with Nature so boldly. No doubt his + heroines are more expansively endowed than would be thought genteel + in our country, where cryptogams are so much in fashion, + nevertheless there is always something very tremendous about him, + and very often much that is sublime, pathetic, and moving. I defy + any one of the average amount of imagination and sentiment to stand + long before the Descent from the Cross without being moved more + nearly to tears than he would care to acknowledge. As for color, + his effects are as sure as those of the sun rising in a tropical + landscape. There is something quite genial in the cheerful sense of + his own omnipotence which always inspired him. There are a few fine + pictures of his here, and I go in sometimes of a raw, foggy morning + merely to warm myself in the blaze of their beauty." + +I have been more willing to give room to this description of Rubens's +pictures and the effect they produced upon Motley, because there is a +certain affinity between those sumptuous and glowing works of art and the +prose pictures of the historian who so admired them. He was himself a +colorist in language, and called up the image of a great personage or a +splendid pageant of the past with the same affluence, the same rich +vitality, that floods and warms the vast areas of canvas over which the +full-fed genius of Rubens disported itself in the luxury of imaginative +creation. + + + + +XI. + +1856-1857. AEt. 42-43. + +PUBLICATION OF HIS FIRST HISTORICAL WORK, "RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC." +--ITS RECEPTION.--CRITICAL NOTICES. + +The labor of ten years was at last finished. Carrying his formidable +manuscript with him,--and how formidable the manuscript which melts down +into three solid octavo volumes is, only writers and publishers know,--he +knocked at the gate of that terrible fortress from which Lintot and Curll +and Tonson looked down on the authors of an older generation. So large a +work as the "History of the Rise of the Dutch Republic," offered for the +press by an author as yet unknown to the British public, could hardly +expect a warm welcome from the great dealers in literature as +merchandise. Mr. Murray civilly declined the manuscript which was offered +to him, and it was published at its author's expense by Mr. John Chapman. +The time came when the positions of the first-named celebrated publisher +and the unknown writer were reversed. Mr. Murray wrote to Mr. Motley +asking to be allowed to publish his second great work, the "History of +the United Netherlands," expressing at the same time his regret at what +he candidly called his mistake in the first instance, and thus they were +at length brought into business connection as well as the most agreeable +and friendly relations. An American edition was published by the Harpers +at the same time as the London one. + +If the new work of the unknown author found it difficult to obtain a +publisher, it was no sooner given to the public than it found an +approving, an admiring, an enthusiastic world of readers, and a noble +welcome at the colder hands of the critics. + +"The Westminster Review" for April, 1856, had for its leading article a +paper by Mr. Froude, in which the critic awarded the highest praise to +the work of the new historian. As one of the earliest as well as one of +the most important recognitions of the work, I quote some of its +judgments. + + "A history as complete as industry and genius can make it now lies + before us of the first twenty years of the Revolt of the United + Provinces; of the period in which those provinces finally conquered + their independence and established the Republic of Holland. It has + been the result of many years of silent, thoughtful, unobtrusive + labor, and unless we are strangely mistaken, unless we are ourselves + altogether unfit for this office of criticising which we have here + undertaken, the book is one which will take its place among the + finest histories in this or in any language. . . . All the + essentials of a great writer Mr. Motley eminently possesses. His + mind is broad, his industry unwearied. In power of dramatic + description no modern historian, except perhaps Mr. Carlyle, + surpasses him, and in analysis of character he is elaborate and + distinct. His principles are those of honest love for all which is + good and admirable in human character wherever he finds it, while he + unaffectedly hates oppression, and despises selfishness with all his + heart." + +After giving a slight analytical sketch of the series of events related +in the history, Mr. Froude objects to only one of the historian's +estimates, that, namely, of the course of Queen Elizabeth. + + "It is ungracious, however," he says, "even to find so slight a + fault with these admirable volumes. Mr. Motley has written without + haste, with the leisurely composure of a master. . . . We now + take our leave of Mr. Motley, desiring him only to accept our hearty + thanks for these volumes, which we trust will soon take their place + in every English library. Our quotations will have sufficed to show + the ability of the writer. Of the scope and general character of + his work we have given but a languid conception. The true merit of + a great book must be learned from the book itself. Our part has + been rather to select varied specimens of style and power. Of Mr. + Motley's antecedents we know nothing. If he has previously appeared + before the public, his reputation has not crossed the Atlantic. It + will not be so now. We believe that we may promise him as warm a + welcome among ourselves as he will receive even in America; that his + place will be at once conceded to him among the first historians in + our common language." + +The faithful and unwearied Mr. Allibone has swept the whole field of +contemporary criticism, and shown how wide and universal was the welcome +accorded to the hitherto unknown author. An article headed "Prescott and +Motley," attributed to M. Guizot, which must have been translated, I +suppose, from his own language, judging by its freedom from French +idioms, is to be found in "The Edinburgh Review" for January, 1857. The +praise, not unmingled with criticisms, which that great historian +bestowed upon Motley is less significant than the fact that he +superintended a translation of the "Rise of the Dutch Republic," and +himself wrote the Introduction to it. + +A general chorus of approbation followed or accompanied these leading +voices. The reception of the work in Great Britain was a triumph. On the +Continent, in addition to the tribute paid to it by M. Guizot, it was +translated into Dutch, into German, and into Russian. At home his +reception was not less hearty. "The North American Review," which had set +its foot on the semi-autobiographical medley which he called "Morton's +Hope," which had granted a decent space and a tepid recognition to his +"semi-historical" romance, in which he had already given the reading +public a taste of his quality as a narrator of real events and a +delineator of real personages,--this old and awe-inspiring New England +and more than New England representative of the Fates, found room for a +long and most laudatory article, in which the son of one of our most +distinguished historians did the honors of the venerable literary +periodical to the new-comer, for whom the folding-doors of all the +critical headquarters were flying open as if of themselves. Mr. Allibone +has recorded the opinions of some of our best scholars as expressed to +him. + +Dr. Lieber wrote a letter to Mr. Allibone in the strongest terms of +praise. I quote one passage which in the light of after events borrows a +cruel significance:-- + + "Congress and Parliament decree thanks for military exploits, + --rarely for diplomatic achievements. If they ever voted their thanks + for books,--and what deeds have influenced the course of human + events more than some books?--Motley ought to have the thanks of our + Congress; but I doubt not that he has already the thanks of every + American who has read the work. It will leave its distinct mark + upon the American mind." + +Mr. Everett writes:-- + + "Mr. Motley's 'History of the Dutch Republic' is in my judgment a + work of the highest merit. Unwearying research for years in the + libraries of Europe, patience and judgment in arranging and + digesting his materials, a fine historical tact, much skill in + characterization, the perspective of narration, as it may be called, + and a vigorous style unite to make it a very capital work, and place + the name of Motley by the side of those of our great historical + trio,--Bancroft, Irving, and Prescott." + +Mr. Irving, Mr. Bancroft, Mr. Sumner, Mr. Hillard, united their voices in +the same strain of commendation. Mr. Prescott, whose estimate of the new +history is of peculiar value for obvious reasons, writes to Mr. Allibone +thus:-- + + "The opinion of any individual seems superfluous in respect to a + work on the merits of which the public both at home and abroad have + pronounced so unanimous a verdict. As Motley's path crosses my own + historic field, I may be thought to possess some advantage over most + critics in my familiarity with the ground. + + "However this may be, I can honestly bear my testimony to the extent + of his researches and to the accuracy with which he has given the + results of them to the public. Far from making his book a mere + register of events, he has penetrated deep below the surface and + explored the cause of these events. He has carefully studied the + physiognomy of the times and given finished portraits of the great + men who conducted the march of the revolution. Every page is + instinct with the love of freedom and with that personal knowledge + of the working of free institutions which could alone enable him to + do justice to his subject. We may congratulate ourselves that it + was reserved for one of our countrymen to tell the story-better than + it had yet been told--of this memorable revolution, which in so many + of its features bears a striking resemblance to our own." + +The public welcomed the work as cordially as the critics. Fifteen +thousand copies had already been sold in London in 1857. In America it +was equally popular. Its author saw his name enrolled by common consent +among those of the great writers of his time. Europe accepted him, his +country was proud to claim him, scholarship set its jealously guarded +seal upon the result of his labors, the reading world, which had not +cared greatly for his stories, hung in delight over a narrative more +exciting than romances; and the lonely student, who had almost forgotten +the look of living men in the solitude of archives haunted by dead +memories, found himself suddenly in the full blaze of a great reputation. + + + + +XII. + +1856-1857. AEt. 42-43. +VISIT TO AMERICA.--RESIDENCE IN BOYLSTON PLACE. + +He visited this country in 1856, and spent the winter of 1856-57 in +Boston, living with his family in a house in Boylston Place. At this time +I had the pleasure of meeting him often, and of seeing the changes which +maturity, success, the opening of a great literary and social career, had +wrought in his character and bearing. He was in every way greatly +improved; the interesting, impulsive youth had ripened into a noble +manhood. Dealing with great themes, his own mind had gained their +dignity. Accustomed to the company of dead statesmen and heroes, his own +ideas had risen to a higher standard. The flattery of society had added a +new grace to his natural modesty. He was now a citizen of the world by +his reputation; the past was his province, in which he was recognized as +a master; the idol's pedestal was ready for him, but he betrayed no +desire to show himself upon it. + + + + +XIII. + +1858-1860. AEt. 44-46. +RETURN TO ENGLAND.--SOCIAL RELATIONS.--LADY HARCOURT'S LETTER. + +During the years spent in Europe in writing his first history, from 1851 +to 1856, Mr. Motley had lived a life of great retirement and simplicity, +devoting himself to his work and to the education of his children, to +which last object he was always ready to give the most careful +supervision. He was as yet unknown beyond the circle of his friends, and +he did not seek society. In this quiet way he had passed the two years of +residence in Dresden, the year divided between Brussels and the Hague, +and a very tranquil year spent at Vevay on the Lake of Geneva. His health +at this time was tolerably good, except for nervous headaches, which +frequently recurred and were of great severity. His visit to England with +his manuscript in search of a publisher has already been mentioned. + +In 1858 he revisited England. His fame as a successful author was there +before him, and he naturally became the object of many attentions. He now +made many acquaintances who afterwards became his kind and valued +friends. Among those mentioned by his daughter, Lady Harcourt, are Lord +Lyndhurst, Lord Carlisle, Lady William Russell, Lord and Lady Palmerston, +Dean Milman, with many others. The following winter was passed in Rome, +among many English and American friends. + + "In the course of the next summer," his daughter writes to me, "we + all went to England, and for the next two years, marked chiefly by + the success of the 'United Netherlands,' our social life was most + agreeable and most interesting. He was in the fulness of his health + and powers; his works had made him known in intellectual society, + and I think his presence, on the other hand, increased their + effects. As no one knows better than you do, his belief in his own + country and in its institutions at their best was so passionate and + intense that it was a part of his nature, yet his refined and + fastidious tastes were deeply gratified by the influences of his + life in England, and the spontaneous kindness which he received + added much to his happiness. At that time Lord Palmerston was Prime + Minister; the weekly receptions at Cambridge House were the centre + of all that was brilliant in the political and social world, while + Lansdowne House, Holland House, and others were open to the + 'sommites' in all branches of literature, science, rank, and + politics. . . . It was the last year of Lord Macaulay's life, + and as a few out of many names which I recall come Dean Milman, Mr. + Froude (whose review of the 'Dutch Republic' in the 'Westminster' + was one of the first warm recognitions it ever received), the Duke + and Duchess of Argyll, Sir William Stirling Maxwell, then Mr. + Stirling of Keir, the Sheridan family in its different brilliant + members, Lord Wensleydale, and many more." + +There was no society to which Motley would not have added grace and +attraction by his presence, and to say that he was a welcome guest in the +best houses of England is only saying that these houses are always open +to those whose abilities, characters, achievements, are commended to the +circles that have the best choice by the personal gifts which are +nature's passport everywhere. + + + + +XIV. + +1859. AEt. 45. + +LETTER TO MR. FRANCIS H. UNDERWOOD.--PLAN OF MR. MOTLEY'S HISTORICAL +WORKS.--SECOND GREAT WORK, "HISTORY OF THE UNITED NETHERLANDS." + +I am enabled by the kindness of Mr. Francis H. Underwood to avail myself +of a letter addressed to him by Mr. Motley in the year before the +publication of this second work, which gives us an insight into his mode +of working and the plan he proposed to follow. It begins with an allusion +which recalls a literary event interesting to many of his American +friends. + + ROME, March 4, 1859. + + F. H. UNDERWOOD, ESQ. + + My dear Sir,--. . . I am delighted to hear of the great success + of "The Atlantic Monthly." In this remote region I have not the + chance of reading it as often as I should like, but from the + specimens which I have seen I am quite sure it deserves its wide + circulation. A serial publication, the contents of which are purely + original and of such remarkable merit, is a novelty in our country, + and I am delighted to find that it has already taken so prominent a + position before the reading world. . . + + The whole work [his history], of which the three volumes already + published form a part, will be called "The Eighty Years' War for + Liberty." + + Epoch I. is the Rise of the Dutch Republic. + + Epoch II. Independence Achieved. From the Death of William the + Silent till the Twelve Years' Truce. 1584-1609. + + Epoch III. Independence Recognized. From the Twelve Years' Truce + to the Peace of Westphalia. 1609-1648. + + My subject is a very vast one, for the struggle of the United + Provinces with Spain was one in which all the leading states of + Europe were more or less involved. After the death of William the + Silent, the history assumes world-wide proportions. Thus the volume + which I am just about terminating . . . is almost as much English + history as Dutch. The Earl of Leicester, very soon after the death + of Orange, was appointed governor of the provinces, and the alliance + between the two countries almost amounted to a political union. I + shall try to get the whole of the Leicester administration, + terminating with the grand drama of the Invincible Armada, into one + volume; but I doubt, my materials are so enormous. I have been + personally very hard at work, nearly two years, ransacking the + British State Paper Office, the British Museum, and the Holland + archives, and I have had two copyists constantly engaged in London, + and two others at the Hague. Besides this, I passed the whole of + last winter at Brussels, where, by special favor of the Belgian + Government, I was allowed to read what no one else has ever been + permitted to see,--the great mass of copies taken by that government + from the Simancas archives, a translated epitome of which has been + published by Gachard. This correspondence reaches to the death of + Philip II., and is of immense extent and importance. Had I not + obtained leave to read the invaluable and, for my purpose, + indispensable documents at Brussels, I should have gone to Spain, + for they will not be published these twenty years, and then only in + a translated and excessively abbreviated and unsatisfactory form. + I have read the whole of this correspondence, and made very copious + notes of it. In truth, I devoted three months of last winter to + that purpose alone. + + The materials I have collected from the English archives are also + extremely important and curious. I have hundreds of interesting + letters never published or to be published, by Queen Elizabeth, + Burghley, Walsingham, Sidney, Drake, Willoughby, Leicester, and + others. For the whole of that portion of my subject in which + Holland and England were combined into one whole, to resist Spain in + its attempt to obtain the universal empire, I have very abundant + collections. For the history of the United Provinces is not at all + a provincial history. It is the history of European liberty. + Without the struggle of Holland and England against Spain, all + Europe might have been Catholic and Spanish. It was Holland that + saved England in the sixteenth century, and, by so doing, secured + the triumph of the Reformation, and placed the independence of the + various states of Europe upon a sure foundation. Of course, the + materials collected by me at the Hague are of great importance. As + a single specimen, I will state that I found in the archives there + an immense and confused mass of papers, which turned out to be the + autograph letters of Olden Barneveld during the last few years of + his life; during, in short, the whole of that most important period + which preceded his execution. These letters are in such an + intolerable handwriting that no one has ever attempted to read them. + I could read them only imperfectly myself, and it would have taken + me a very long time to have acquired the power to do so; but my + copyist and reader there is the most patient and indefatigable + person alive, and he has quite mastered the handwriting, and he + writes me that they are a mine of historical wealth for me. I shall + have complete copies before I get to that period, one of signal + interest, and which has never been described. I mention these + matters that you may see that my work, whatever its other value may + be, is built upon the only foundation fit for history,--original + contemporary documents. These are all unpublished. Of course, I + use the contemporary historians and pamphleteers,--Dutch, Spanish, + French, Italian, German, and English,--but the most valuable of my + sources are manuscript ones. I have said the little which I have + said in order to vindicate the largeness of the subject. The + kingdom of Holland is a small power now, but the Eighty Years' War, + which secured the civil and religious independence of the Dutch + Commonwealth and of Europe, was the great event of that whole age. + + The whole work will therefore cover a most remarkable epoch in human + history, from the abdication of Charles Fifth to the Peace of + Westphalia, at which last point the political and geographical + arrangements of Europe were established on a permanent basis,--in + the main undisturbed until the French Revolution. . . . + + I will mention that I received yesterday a letter from the + distinguished M. Guizot, informing me that the first volume of the + French translation, edited by him, with an introduction, has just + been published. The publication was hastened in consequence of the + appearance of a rival translation at Brussels. The German + translation is very elegantly and expensively printed in handsome + octavos; and the Dutch translation, under the editorship of the + archivist general of Holland, Bakhuyzen v. d. Brink, is enriched + with copious notes and comments by that distinguished scholar. + + There are also three different piratical reprints of the original + work at Amsterdam, Leipzig, and London. I must add that I had + nothing to do with the translation in any case. In fact, with the + exception of M. Guizot, no one ever obtained permission of me to + publish translations, and I never knew of the existence of them + until I read of it in the journals. . . . I forgot to say that + among the collections already thoroughly examined by me is that + portion of the Simancas archives still retained in the Imperial + archives of France. I spent a considerable time in Paris for the + purpose of reading these documents. There are many letters of + Philip II. there, with apostilles by his own hand. . . . I + would add that I am going to pass this summer at Venice for the + purpose of reading and procuring copies from the very rich archives + of that Republic, of the correspondence of their envoys in Madrid, + London, and Brussels during the epoch of which I am treating. + + I am also not without hope of gaining access to the archives of the + Vatican here, although there are some difficulties in the way. + + With kind regards . . . + I remain very truly yours, + J. L. MOTLEY. + + + + +XV. + +1860. AT. 46. + +PUBLICATION OF THE FIRST TWO VOLUMES OF THE "HISTORY OF THE UNITED +NETHERLANDS."--THEIR RECEPTION. + +We know something of the manner in which Mr. Motley collected his +materials. We know the labors, the difficulties, the cost of his toils +among the dusty records of the past. What he gained by the years he spent +in his researches is so well stated by himself that I shall borrow his +own words:-- + + "Thanks to the liberality of many modern governments of Europe, the + archives where the state secrets of the buried centuries have so + long mouldered are now open to the student of history. To him who + has patience and industry, many mysteries are thus revealed which no + political sagacity or critical acumen could have divined. He leans + over the shoulder of Philip the Second at his writing-table, as the + King spells patiently out, with cipher-key in hand, the most + concealed hieroglyphics of Parma, or Guise, or Mendoza. He reads + the secret thoughts of 'Fabius' [Philip II.] as that cunctative + Roman scrawls his marginal apostilles on each dispatch; he pries + into all the stratagems of Camillus, Hortensius, Mucius, Julius, + Tullius, and the rest of those ancient heroes who lent their names + to the diplomatic masqueraders of the sixteenth century; he enters + the cabinet of the deeply pondering Burghley, and takes from the + most private drawer the memoranda which record that minister's + unutterable doubtings; he pulls from the dressing-gown folds of the + stealthy, soft-gliding Walsingham the last secret which he has + picked from the Emperor's pigeon-holes or the Pope's pocket, and + which not Hatton, nor Buckhurst, nor Leicester, nor the Lord + Treasurer is to see,--nobody but Elizabeth herself; he sits + invisible at the most secret councils of the Nassaus and Barneveld + and Buys, or pores with Farnese over coming victories and vast + schemes of universal conquest; he reads the latest bit of scandal, + the minutest characteristic of king or minister, chronicled by the + gossiping Venetians for the edification of the Forty; and after all + this prying and eavesdropping, having seen the cross-purposes, the + bribings, the windings in the dark, he is not surprised if those who + were systematically deceived did not always arrive at correct + conclusions." + +The fascination of such a quest is readily conceivable. A drama with real +characters, and the spectator at liberty to go behind the scenes and look +upon and talk with the kings and queens between the acts; to examine the +scenery, to handle the properties, to study the "make up" of the imposing +personages of full-dress histories; to deal with them all as Thackeray +has done with the Grand Monarque in one of his caustic sketches,--this +would be as exciting, one might suppose, as to sit through a play one +knows by heart at Drury Lane or the Theatre Francais, and might furnish +occupation enough to the curious idler who was only in search of +entertainment. The mechanical obstacles of half-illegible manuscript, of +antiquated forms of speech, to say nothing of the intentional obscurities +of diplomatic correspondence, stand, however, in the way of all but the +resolute and unwearied scholar. These difficulties, in all their complex +obstinacy, had been met and overcome by the heroic efforts, the +concentrated devotion, of the new laborer in the unbroken fields of +secret history. + +Without stopping to take breath, as it were,--for his was a task 'de +longue haleine,'--he proceeded to his second great undertaking. + +The first portion--consisting of two volumes--of the "History of the +United Netherlands" was published in the year 1860. It maintained and +increased the reputation he had already gained by his first history. + +"The London Quarterly Review" devoted a long article to it, beginning +with this handsome tribute to his earlier and later volumes:-- + + "Mr. Motley's 'History of the Rise of the Dutch Republic' is already + known and valued for the grasp of mind which it displays, for the + earnest and manly spirit in which he has communicated the results of + deep research and careful reflection. Again he appears before us, + rich with the spoils of time, to tell the story of the United + Netherlands from the time of William the Silent to the end of the + eventful year of the Spanish Armada, and we still find him in every + way worthy of this 'great argument.' Indeed, it seems to us that he + proceeds with an increased facility of style, and with a more + complete and easy command over his materials. These materials are + indeed splendid, and of them most excellent use has been made. The + English State Paper Office, the Spanish archives from Simancas, and + the Dutch and Belgian repositories, have all yielded up their + secrets; and Mr. Motley has enjoyed the advantage of dealing with a + vast mass of unpublished documents, of which he has not failed to + avail himself to an extent which places his work in the foremost + rank as an authority for the period to which it relates. By means + of his labor and his art we can sit at the council board of Philip + and Elizabeth, we can read their most private dispatches. Guided by + his demonstration, we are enabled to dissect out to their ultimate + issues the minutest ramifications of intrigue. We join in the + amusement of the popular lampoon; we visit the prison-house; we + stand by the scaffold; we are present at the battle and the siege. + We can scan the inmost characters of men and can view them in their. + habits as they lived." + +After a few criticisms upon lesser points of form and style, the writer +says:-- + + "But the work itself must be read to appreciate the vast and + conscientious industry bestowed upon it. His delineations are true + and life-like, because they are not mere compositions written to + please the ear, but are really taken from the facts and traits + preserved in those authentic records to which he has devoted the + labor of many years. Diligent and painstaking as the humblest + chronicler, he has availed himself of many sources of information + which have not been made use of by any previous historical writer. + At the same time he is not oppressed by his materials, but has + sagacity to estimate their real value, and he has combined with + scholarly power the facts which they contain. He has rescued the + story of the Netherlands from the domain of vague and general + narrative, and has labored, with much judgment and ability, to + unfold the 'Belli causas, et vitia, et modos,' and to assign to + every man and every event their own share in the contest, and their + own influence upon its fortunes. We do not wonder that his earlier + publication has been received as a valuable addition, not only to + English, but to European literature." + +One or two other contemporary criticisms may help us with their side +lights. A critic in "The Edinburgh Review" for January, 1861, thinks that +"Mr. Motley has not always been successful in keeping the graphic variety +of his details subordinate to the main theme of his work." Still, he +excuses the fault, as he accounts it, in consideration of the new light +thrown on various obscure points of history, and-- + + "it is atoned for by striking merits, by many narratives of great + events faithfully, powerfully, and vividly executed, by the clearest + and most life-like conceptions of character, and by a style which, + if it sacrifices the severer principles of composition to a desire + to be striking and picturesque, is always vigorous, full of + animation, and glowing with the genuine enthusiasm of the writer. + Mr. Motley combines as an historian two qualifications seldom found + united,--to great capacity for historical research he adds much + power of pictorial representation. In his pages we find characters + and scenes minutely set forth in elaborate and characteristic + detail, which is relieved and heightened in effect by the artistic + breadth of light and shade thrown across the broader prospects of + history. In an American author, too, we must commend the hearty + English spirit in which the book is written; and fertile as the + present age has been in historical works of the highest merit, none + of them can be ranked above these volumes in the grand qualities of + interest, accuracy, and truth." + +A writer in "Blackwood" (May, 1861) contrasts Motley with Froude somewhat +in the way in which another critic had contrasted him with Prescott. +Froude, he says, remembers that there are some golden threads in the +black robe of the Dominican. Motley "finds it black and thrusts it +farther into the darkness." + +Every writer carries more or less of his own character into his book, of +course. A great professor has told me that there is a personal flavor in +the mathematical work of a man of genius like Poisson. Those who have +known Motley and Prescott would feel sure beforehand that the impulsive +nature of the one and the judicial serenity of the other would as surely +betray themselves in their writings as in their conversation and in their +every movement. Another point which the critic of "Blackwood's Magazine" +has noticed has not been so generally observed: it is what he calls "a +dashing, offhand, rattling style,"--"fast" writing. It cannot be denied +that here and there may be detected slight vestiges of the way of writing +of an earlier period of Motley's literary life, with which I have no +reason to think the writer just mentioned was acquainted. Now and then I +can trace in the turn of a phrase, in the twinkle of an epithet, a faint +reminiscence of a certain satirical levity, airiness, jauntiness, if I +may hint such a word, which is just enough to remind me of those perilous +shallows of his early time through which his richly freighted argosy had +passed with such wonderful escape from their dangers and such very slight +marks of injury. That which is pleasant gayety in conversation may be +quite out of place in formal composition, and Motley's wit must have had +a hard time of it struggling to show its spangles in the processions +while his gorgeous tragedies went sweeping by. + + + + + + +JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY. + +A MEMOIR + +By Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. + +Volume II. + + + +XVI. + +1860-1866. AEt. 46-52. + +RESIDENCE IN ENGLAND.--OUTBREAK OF THE CIVIL WAR.--LETTERS TO THE LONDON +"TIMES."--VISIT TO AMERICA.--APPOINTED MINISTER TO AUSTRIA.--LADY +HARCOURT'S LETTER.--MISS MOTLEY'S MEMORANDUM. + +The winter of 1859-60 was passed chiefly at Oatlands Hotel, +Walton-on-Thames. In 1860 Mr. Motley hired the house No. 31 Hertford +Street, May Fair, London. He had just published the first two volumes of +his "History of the Netherlands," and was ready for the further labors of +its continuation, when the threats, followed by the outbreak, of the +great civil contention in his native land brought him back from the +struggles of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries to the conflict of +the nineteenth. + +His love of country, which had grown upon him so remarkably of late +years, would not suffer him to be silent at such a moment. All around him +he found ignorance and prejudice. The quarrel was like to be prejudged in +default of a champion of the cause which to him was that of Liberty and +Justice. He wrote two long letters to the London "Times," in which he +attempted to make clear to Englishmen and to Europe the nature and +conditions of our complex system of government, the real cause of the +strife, and the mighty issues at stake. Nothing could have been more +timely, nothing more needed. Mr. William Everett, who was then in +England, bears strong testimony to the effect these letters produced. Had +Mr. Motley done no other service to his country, this alone would entitle +him to honorable remembrance as among the first defenders of the flag, +which at that moment had more to fear from what was going on in the +cabinet councils of Europe than from all the armed hosts that were +gathering against it. + +He returned to America in 1861, and soon afterwards was appointed by Mr. +Lincoln Minister to Austria. Mr. Burlingame had been previously appointed +to the office, but having been objected to by the Austrian Government for +political reasons, the place unexpectedly left vacant was conferred upon +Motley, who had no expectation of any diplomatic appointment when he left +Europe. For some interesting particulars relating to his residence in +Vienna I must refer to the communications addressed to me by his +daughter, Lady Harcourt, and her youngest sister, and the letters I +received from him while at the Austrian capital. Lady Harcourt writes:-- + + "He held the post for six years, seeing the civil war fought out and + brought to a triumphant conclusion, and enjoying, as I have every + reason to believe, the full confidence and esteem of Mr. Lincoln to + the last hour of the President's life. In the first dark years the + painful interest of the great national drama was so all-absorbing + that literary work was entirely put aside, and with his countrymen + at home he lived only in the varying fortunes of the day, his + profound faith and enthusiasm sustaining him and lifting him above + the natural influence of a by no means sanguine temperament. Later, + when the tide was turning and success was nearing, he was more able + to work. His social relations during the whole period of his + mission were of the most agreeable character. The society of Vienna + was at that time, and I believe is still, the absolute reverse of + that of England, where all claims to distinction are recognized and + welcomed. There the old feudal traditions were still in full force, + and diplomatic representatives admitted to the court society by + right of official position found it to consist exclusively of an + aristocracy of birth, sixteen quarterings of nobility being + necessary to a right of presentation to the Emperor and Empress. + The society thus constituted was distinguished by great charm and + grace of manner, the exclusion of all outer elements not only + limiting the numbers, but giving the ease of a family party within + the charmed circle. On the other hand, larger interests suffered + under the rigid exclusion of all occupations except the army, + diplomacy, and court place. The intimacy among the different + members of the society was so close that, beyond a courtesy of + manner that never failed, the tendency was to resist the approach of + any stranger as a 'gene'. A single new face was instantly remarked + and commented on in a Vienna saloon to an extent unknown in any + other large capital. This peculiarity, however, worked in favor of + the old resident. Kindliness of feeling increased with familiarity + and grew into something better than acquaintance, and the parting + with most sincere and affectionately disposed friends in the end was + deeply felt on both sides. Those years were passed in a pleasant + house in the Weiden Faubourg, with a large garden at the back, and I + do not think that during this time there was one disagreeable + incident in his relations to his colleagues, while in several cases + the relations, agreeable with all, became those of close friendship. + We lived constantly, of course, in diplomatic and Austrian society, + and during the latter part of the time particularly his house was as + much frequented and the centre of as many dancing and other + receptions as any in the place. His official relations with the + Foreign Office were courteous and agreeable, the successive Foreign + Ministers during his stay being Count Richberg, Count Mensdorff, and + Baron Beust. Austria was so far removed from any real contact with + our own country that, though the interest in our war may have been + languid, they did not pretend to a knowledge which might have + inclined them to controversy, while an instinct that we were acting + as a constituted government against rebellion rather inclined them + to sympathy. I think I may say that as he became known among them + his keen patriotism and high sense of honor and truth were fully + understood and appreciated, and that what he said always commanded a + sympathetic hearing among men with totally different political + ideas, but with chivalrous and loyal instincts to comprehend his + own. I shall never forget his account of the terrible day when the + news of Mr. Lincoln's death came. By some accident a rumor of it + reached him first through a colleague. He went straight to the + Foreign Office for news, hoping against hope, was received by Count + Mensdorff, who merely came forward and laid his arm about his + shoulder with an intense sympathy beyond words." + +Miss Motley, the historian's youngest daughter, has added a note to her +sister's communication:-- + + "During his residence in Vienna the most important negotiations + which he had to carry on with the Austrian Government were those + connected with the Mexican affair. Maximilian at one time applied + to his brother the Emperor for assistance, and he promised to accede + to his demand. Accordingly a large number of volunteers were + equipped and had actually embarked at Trieste, when a dispatch from + Seward arrived, instructing the American Minister to give notice to + the Austrian Government that if the troops sailed for Mexico he was + to leave Vienna at once. My father had to go at once to Count + Mensdorff with these instructions, and in spite of the Foreign + Minister being annoyed that the United States Government had not + sooner intimated that this extreme course would be taken, the + interview was quite amicable and the troops were not allowed to + sail. We were in Vienna during the war in which Denmark fought + alone against Austria and Prussia, and when it was over Bismarck + came to Vienna to settle the terms of peace with the Emperor. He + dined with us twice during his short stay, and was most delightful + and agreeable. When he and my father were together they seemed to + live over the youthful days they had spent together as students, + and many were the anecdotes of their boyish frolics which Bismarck + related." + + + + +XVII. + +1861-1863. AEt. 47-49. +LETTERS FROM VIENNA. + +Soon after Mr. Motley's arrival in Vienna I received a long letter from +him, most of which relates to personal matters, but which contains a few +sentences of interest to the general reader as showing his zealous +labors, wherever he found himself, in behalf of the great cause then in +bloody debate in his own country: + + November 14, 1861. + + . . . What can I say to you of cis-Atlantic things? I am almost + ashamed to be away from home. You know that I had decided to + remain, and had sent for my family to come to America, when my + present appointment altered my plans. I do what good I can. I + think I made some impression on Lord John Russell, with whom I spent + two days soon after my arrival in England, and I talked very frankly + and as strongly as I could to Palmerston, and I have had long + conversations and correspondences with other leading men in England. + I have also had an hour's [conversation] with Thouvenel in Paris. I + hammered the Northern view into him as soundly as I could. For this + year there will be no foreign interference with us. I don't + anticipate it at any time, unless we bring it on ourselves by bad + management, which I don't expect. Our fate is in our own hands, and + Europe is looking on to see which side is strongest,--when it has + made the discovery it will back it as also the best and the most + moral. Yesterday I had my audience with the Emperor. He received + me with much cordiality, and seemed interested in a long account + which I gave him of our affairs. You may suppose I inculcated the + Northern views. We spoke in his vernacular, and he asked me + afterwards if I was a German. I mention this not from vanity, but + because he asked it with earnestness, and as if it had a political + significance. Of course I undeceived him. His appearance + interested me, and his manner is very pleasing. + +I continued to receive long and interesting letters from him at intervals +during his residence as Minister at Vienna. Relating as they often did to +public matters, about which he had private sources of information, his +anxiety that they should not get into print was perfectly natural. As, +however, I was at liberty to read his letters to others at my discretion, +and as many parts of these letters have an interest as showing how +American affairs looked to one who was behind the scenes in Europe, I may +venture to give some extracts without fear of violating the spirit of his +injunctions, or of giving offence to individuals. The time may come when +his extended correspondence can be printed in full with propriety, but it +must be in a future year and after it has passed into the hands of a +younger generation. Meanwhile these few glimpses at his life and records +of his feelings and opinions will help to make the portrait of the man we +are studying present itself somewhat more clearly. + + LEGATION of THE U. S. A., VIENNA, January 14, 1862. + + MY DEAR HOLMES,--I have two letters of yours, November 29 and + December 17, to express my thanks for. It is quite true that it is + difficult for me to write with the same feeling that inspires you, + --that everything around the inkstand within a radius of a thousand + miles is full of deepest interest to writer and reader. I don't + even intend to try to amuse you with Vienna matters. What is it to + you that we had a very pleasant dinner-party last week at Prince + Esterhazy's, and another this week at Prince Liechtenstein's, and + that to-morrow I am to put on my cocked hat and laced coat to make a + visit to her Imperial Majesty, the Empress Mother, and that to-night + there is to be the first of the assembly balls, the Vienna Almack's, + at which--I shall be allowed to absent myself altogether? + + It strikes me that there is likely to be left a fair field for us a + few months longer, say till midsummer. The Trent affair I shall not + say much about, except to state that I have always been for giving + up the prisoners. I was awfully afraid, knowing that the demand had + gone forth,-- + + "Send us your prisoners or you'll hear of it," + + that the answer would have come back in the Hotspur vein-- + + 'And if the Devil come and roar for them, + We will not send them." + + The result would have been most disastrous, for in order to secure a + most trifling advantage,--that of keeping Mason and Slidell at Fort + Warren a little longer,--we should have turned our backs on all the + principles maintained by us when neutral, and should have been + obliged to accept a war at an enormous disadvantage. . . . + + But I hardly dared to hope that we should have obtained such a + victory as we have done. To have disavowed the illegal transaction + at once,--before any demand came from England,--to have placed that + disavowal on the broad ground of principle which we have always + cherished, and thus with a clear conscience, and to our entire + honor, to have kept ourselves clear from a war which must have given + the Confederacy the invincible alliance of England,--was exactly + what our enemies in Europe did not suppose us capable of doing. But + we have done it in the handsomest manner, and there is not one + liberal heart in this hemisphere that is not rejoiced, nor one hater + of us and of our institutions that is not gnashing his teeth with + rage. + +The letter of ten close pages from which I have quoted these passages is +full of confidential information, and contains extracts from letters of +leading statesmen. If its date had been 1762, I might feel authorized in +disobeying its injunctions of privacy. I must quote one other sentence, +as it shows his animus at that time towards a distinguished statesman of +whom he was afterwards accused of speaking in very hard terms by an +obscure writer whose intent was to harm him. In speaking of the Trent +affair, Mr. Motley says: "The English premier has been foiled by our much +maligned Secretary of State, of whom, on this occasion at least, one has +the right to say, with Sir Henry Wotton,-- + + 'His armor was his honest thought, + And simple truth his utmost skill.'" + +"He says at the close of this long letter: + + 'I wish I could bore you about something else but American politics. + But there is nothing else worth thinking of in the world. All else + is leather and prunella. We are living over again the days of the + Dutchmen or the seventeenth-century Englishmen.'" + +My next letter, of fourteen closely written pages, was of similar +character to the last. Motley could think of nothing but the great +conflict. He was alive to every report from America, listening too with +passionate fears or hopes, as the case might be, to the whispers not yet +audible to the world which passed from lip to lip of the statesmen who +were watching the course of events from the other side of the Atlantic +with the sweet complacency of the looker-on of Lucretius; too often +rejoicing in the storm that threatened wreck to institutions and an +organization which they felt to be a standing menace to the established +order of things in their older communities. + +A few extracts from this very long letter will be found to have a special +interest from the time at which they were written. + + LEGATION OF U. S. A., VIENNA, February 26, 1862. + + MY DEAR HOLMES,--. . . I take great pleasure in reading your + prophecies, and intend to be just as free in hazarding my own, for, + as you say, our mortal life is but a string of guesses at the + future, and no one but an idiot would be discouraged at finding + himself sometimes far out in his calculations. If I find you + signally right in any of your predictions, be sure that I will + congratulate and applaud. If you make mistakes, you shall never + hear of them again, and I promise to forget them. Let me ask the + same indulgence from you in return. This is what makes letter- + writing a comfort and journalizing dangerous. . . The ides of March + will be upon us before this letter reaches you. We have got to + squash the rebellion soon, or be squashed forever as a nation. I + don't pretend to judge military plans or the capacities of generals. + But, as you suggest, perhaps I can take a more just view of the + whole picture of the eventful struggle at this great distance than + do those absolutely acting and suffering on the scene. Nor can I + resist the desire to prophesy any more than you can do, knowing that + I may prove utterly mistaken. I say, then, that one great danger + comes from the chance of foreign interference. What will prevent + that? + + Our utterly defeating the Confederates in some great and conclusive + battle; or, + + Our possession of the cotton ports and opening them to European + trade; or, + + A most unequivocal policy of slave emancipation. + + Any one of these three conditions would stave off recognition by + foreign powers, until we had ourselves abandoned the attempt to + reduce the South to obedience. + + The last measure is to my mind the most important. The South has, + by going to war with the United States government, thrust into our + hands against our will the invincible weapon which constitutional + reasons had hitherto forbidden us to employ. At the same time it + has given us the power to remedy a great wrong to four millions of + the human race, in which we had hitherto been obliged to acquiesce. + We are threatened with national annihilation, and defied to use the + only means of national preservation. The question is distinctly + proposed to us, Shall Slavery die, or the great Republic? It is + most astounding to me that there can be two opinions in the free + States as to the answer. + + If we do fall, we deserve our fate. At the beginning of the + contest, constitutional scruples might be respectable. But now we + are fighting to subjugate the South; that is, Slavery. We are + fighting for nothing else that I know of. We are fighting for the + Union. Who wishes to destroy the Union? The slaveholder, nobody + else. Are we to spend twelve hundred millions, and raise six + hundred thousand soldiers, in order to protect slavery? It really + does seem to me too simple for argument. I am anxiously waiting for + the coming Columbus who will set this egg of ours on end by smashing + in the slavery end. We shall be rolling about in every direction + until that is done. I don't know that it is to be done by + proclamation. Rather perhaps by facts. . . . Well, I console + myself with thinking that the people--the American people, at least + --is about as wise collectively as less numerous collections of + individuals, and that the people has really declared emancipation, + and is only puzzling how to carry it into effect. After all, it + seems to be a law of Providence, that progress should be by a spiral + movement; so that when it seems most tortuous, we may perhaps be + going ahead. I am firm in the faith that slavery is now wriggling + itself to death. With slavery in its pristine vigor, I should think + the restored Union neither possible nor desirable. Don't understand + me as not taking into account all the strategical considerations + against premature governmental utterances on this great subject. + But are there any trustworthy friends to the Union among the + slaveholders? Should we lose many Kentuckians and Virginians who + are now with us, if we boldly confiscated the slaves of all rebels? + --and a confiscation of property which has legs and so confiscates + itself, at command, is not only a legal, but would prove a very + practical measure in time of war. In brief, the time is fast + approaching, I think, when 'Thorough' should be written on all our + banners. Slavery will never accept a subordinate position. The + great Republic and Slavery cannot both survive. We have been defied + to mortal combat, and yet we hesitate to strike. These are my poor + thoughts on this great subject. Perhaps you will think them crude. + I was much struck with what you quote from Mr. Conway, that if + emancipation was proclaimed on the Upper Mississippi it would be + known to the negroes of Louisiana in advance of the telegraph. And + if once the blacks had leave to run, how many whites would have to + stay at home to guard their dissolving property? + + You have had enough of my maunderings. But before I conclude them, + may I ask you to give all our kindest regards to Lowell, and to + express our admiration for the Yankee Idyl. I am afraid of using + too extravagant language if I say all I think about it. Was there + ever anything more stinging, more concentrated, more vigorous, more + just? He has condensed into those few pages the essence of a + hundred diplomatic papers and historical disquisitions and Fourth of + July orations. I was dining a day or two since with his friend + Lytton (Bulwer's son, attache here) and Julian Fane (secretary of + the embassy), both great admirers of him,--and especially of the + "Biglow Papers;" they begged me to send them the Mason and Slidell + Idyl, but I wouldn't,--I don't think it is in English nature + (although theirs is very cosmopolitan and liberal) to take such + punishment and come up smiling. I would rather they got it in some + other way, and then told me what they thought voluntarily. + + I have very pleasant relations with all the J. B.'s here. They are + all friendly and well disposed to the North,--I speak of the + embassy, which, with the ambassador and---dress, numbers eight or + ten souls, some of them very intellectual ones. There are no other + J. B.'s here. I have no fear at present of foreign interference. + We have got three or four months to do our work in,--a fair field + and no favor. There is no question whatever that the Southern + commissioners have been thoroughly snubbed in London and Paris. + There is to be a blockade debate in Parliament next week, but no bad + consequences are to be apprehended. The Duke de Gramont (French + ambassador, and an intimate friend of the Emperor) told my wife last + night that it was entirely false that the Emperor had ever urged the + English government to break the blockade. "Don't believe it,--don't + believe a word of it," he said. He has always held that language to + me. He added that Prince Napoleon had just come out with a strong + speech about us,--you will see it, doubtless, before you get this + letter,--but it has not yet reached us. + + Shall I say anything of Austria,--what can I say that would interest + you? That's the reason why I hate to write. All my thoughts are in + America. Do you care to know about the Archduke Ferdinand + Maximilian, that shall be King hereafter of Mexico (if L. N. has his + way)? He is next brother to the Emperor, but although I have had + the honor of private audiences of many archdukes here, this one is a + resident of Trieste. + + He is about thirty,--has an adventurous disposition,--some + imagination,--a turn for poetry,--has voyaged a good deal about the + world in the Austrian ship-of-war,--for in one respect he much + resembles that unfortunate but anonymous ancestor of his, the King + of Bohemia with the seven castles, who, according to Corporal Trim, + had such a passion for navigation and sea-affairs, "with never a + seaport in all his dominions." But now the present King of Bohemia + has got the sway of Trieste, and is Lord High Admiral and Chief of + the Marine Department. He has been much in Spain, also in South + America; I have read some travels, "Reise Skizzen," of his--printed, + not published. They are not without talent, and he ever and anon + relieves his prose jog-trot by breaking into a canter of poetry. He + adores bull-fights, and rather regrets the Inquisition, and + considers the Duke of Alva everything noble and chivalrous, and the + most abused of men. It would do your heart good to hear his + invocations to that deeply injured shade, and his denunciations of + the ignorant and vulgar protestants who have defamed him. (N.B. + Let me observe that the R. of the D. R. was not published until long + after the "Reise Skizzen" were written.) 'Du armer Alva! weil du + dem Willen deines Herrn unerschiitterlich treu vast, weil die + festbestimmten grundsatze der Regierung,' etc., etc., etc. You + can imagine the rest. Dear me! I wish I could get back to the + sixteenth and seventeenth century. . . . But alas! the events + of the nineteenth are too engrossing. + + If Lowell cares to read this letter, will you allow me to "make it + over to him jointly," as Captain Cuttle says. I wished to write to + him, but I am afraid only you would tolerate my writing so much when + I have nothing to say. If he would ever send me a line I should be + infinitely obliged, and would quickly respond. We read the "Washers + of the Shroud" with fervid admiration. + + Always remember me most sincerely to the Club, one and all. It + touches me nearly when you assure me that I am not forgotten by + them. To-morrow is Saturday and the last of the month.--[See + Appendix A.]--We are going to dine with our Spanish colleague. But + the first bumper of the Don's champagne I shall drain to the health + of my Parker House friends. + +From another long letter dated August 31, 1862, I extract the following +passages:-- + + "I quite agree in all that you said in your last letter. 'The imp + of secession can't reenter its mother's womb.' It is merely + childish to talk of the Union 'as it was.' You might as well bring + back the Saxon Heptarchy. But the great Republic is destined to + live and flourish, I can't doubt. . . . Do you remember that + wonderful scene in Faust in which Mephistopheles draws wine for the + rabble with a gimlet out of the wooden table; and how it changes to + fire as they drink it, and how they all go mad, draw their knives, + grasp each other by the nose, and think they are cutting off bunches + of grapes at every blow, and how foolish they all look when they + awake from the spell and see how the Devil has been mocking them? + It always seems to me a parable of the great Secession. + + "I repeat, I can't doubt as to the ultimate result. But I dare say + we have all been much mistaken in our calculations as to time. + Days, months, years, are nothing in history. Men die, man is + immortal, practically, even on this earth. We are so impatient, + --and we are always watching for the last scene of the tragedy. Now I + humbly opine that the drop is only about falling on the first act, + or perhaps only the prologue. This act or prologue will be called, + in after days, War for the status quo. Such enthusiasm, heroism, + and manslaughter as status quo could inspire, has, I trust, been not + entirely in vain, but it has been proved insufficient. + + "I firmly believe that when the slaveholders declared war on the + United States government they began a series of events that, in the + logical chain of history, cannot come to a conclusion until the last + vestige of slavery is gone. Looking at the whole field for a moment + dispassionately, objectively, as the dear Teutonic philosophers say, + and merely as an exhibition of phenomena, I cannot imagine any other + issue. Everything else may happen. This alone must happen. + + "But after all this isn't a war. It is a revolution. It is n't + strategists that are wanted so much as believers. In revolutions + the men who win are those who are in earnest. Jeff and Stonewall + and the other Devil-worshippers are in earnest, but it was not + written in the book of fate that the slaveholders' rebellion should + be vanquished by a pro-slavery general. History is never so + illogical. No, the coming 'man on horseback' on our side must be a + great strategist, with the soul of that insane lion, mad old John + Brown, in his belly. That is your only Promethean recipe:-- + + 'et insani leonis + Vim stomacho apposuisse nostro.' + + "I don't know why Horace runs so in my head this morning. . . . + + "There will be work enough for all; but I feel awfully fidgety just + now about Port Royal and Hilton Head, and about affairs generally + for the next three months. After that iron-clads and the new levies + must make us invincible." + +In another letter, dated November 2, 1862, he expresses himself very +warmly about his disappointment in the attitude of many of his old +English friends with reference to our civil conflict. He had recently +heard the details of the death of "the noble Wilder Dwight." + + "It is unnecessary," he says, "to say how deeply we were moved. I + had the pleasure of knowing him well, and I always appreciated his + energy, his manliness, and his intelligent cheerful heroism. I look + back upon him now as a kind of heroic type of what a young New + Englander ought to be and was. I tell you that one of these days + --after a generation of mankind has passed away--these youths will + take their places in our history, and be regarded by the young men + and women now unborn with the admiration which the Philip Sidneys + and the Max Piccolominis now inspire. After all, what was your + Chevy Chace to stir blood with like a trumpet? What noble + principle, what deathless interest, was there at stake? Nothing but + a bloody fight between a lot of noble gamekeepers on one side and of + noble poachers on the other. And because they fought well and + hacked each other to pieces like devils, they have been heroes for + centuries." + +The letter was written in a very excited state of feeling, and runs over +with passionate love of country and indignation at the want of sympathy +with the cause of freedom which he had found in quarters where he had not +expected such coldness or hostile tendencies. + +From a letter dated Vienna, September 22, 1863. + + . . . "When you wrote me last you said on general matters this: + 'In a few days we shall get the news of the success or failure of + the attacks on Port Hudson and Vicksburg. If both are successful, + many will say that the whole matter is about settled.' You may + suppose that when I got the great news I shook hands warmly with you + in the spirit across the Atlantic. Day by day for so long we had + been hoping to hear the fall of Vicksburg. At last when that little + concentrated telegram came, announcing Vicksburg and Gettysburg on + the same day and in two lines, I found myself almost alone. . . . + There was nobody in the house to join in my huzzahs but my youngest + infant. And my conduct very much resembled that of the excellent + Philip II. when he heard the fall of Antwerp,--for I went to her + door, screeching through the key-hole 'Vicksburg is ours!' just as + that other 'pere de famille,' more potent, but I trust not more + respectable than I, conveyed the news to his Infanta. (Fide, for + the incident, an American work on the Netherlands, i. p. 263, and + the authorities there cited.) It is contemptible on my part to + speak thus frivolously of events which will stand out in such golden + letters so long as America has a history, but I wanted to illustrate + the yearning for sympathy which I felt. You who were among people + grim and self-contained usually, who, I trust, were falling on each + other's necks in the public streets, shouting, with tears in their + eyes and triumph in their hearts, can picture my isolation. + + "I have never faltered in my faith, and in the darkest hours, when + misfortunes seemed thronging most thickly upon us, I have never felt + the want of anything to lean against; but I own I did feel like + shaking hands with a few hundred people when I heard of our Fourth + of July, 1863, work, and should like to have heard and joined in an + American cheer or two. + + "I have not much to say of matters here to interest you. We have + had an intensely hot, historically hot, and very long and very dry + summer. I never knew before what a drought meant. In Hungary the + suffering is great, and the people are killing the sheep to feed the + pigs with the mutton. Here about Vienna the trees have been almost + stripped of foliage ever since the end of August. There is no glory + in the grass nor verdure in anything. + + "In fact, we have nothing green here but the Archduke Max, who + firmly believes that he is going forth to Mexico to establish an + American empire, and that it is his divine mission to destroy the + dragon of democracy and reestablish the true Church, the Right + Divine, and all sorts of games. Poor young man! . . . + + "Our information from home is to the 12th. Charleston seems to be + in 'articulo mortis,' but how forts nowadays seem to fly in the face + of Scripture. Those founded on a rock, and built of it, fall easily + enough under the rain of Parrotts and Dahlgrens, while the house + built of sand seems to bid defiance to the storm." + +In quoting from these confidential letters I have been restrained from +doing full justice to their writer by the fact that he spoke with such +entire freedom of persons as well as events. But if they could be read +from beginning to end, no one could help feeling that his love for his +own country, and passionate absorption of every thought in the strife +upon which its existence as a nation depended, were his very life during +all this agonizing period. He can think and talk of nothing else, or, if +he turns for a moment to other subjects, he reverts to the one great +central interest of "American politics," of which he says in one of the +letters from which I have quoted, "There is nothing else worth thinking +of in the world." + +But in spite of his public record as the historian of the struggle for +liberty and the champion of its defenders, and while every letter he +wrote betrayed in every word the intensity of his patriotic feeling, he +was not safe against the attacks of malevolence. A train laid by unseen +hands was waiting for the spark to kindle it, and this came at last in +the shape of a letter from an unknown individual,--a letter the existence +of which ought never to have been a matter of official recognition. + + + + +XVIII. + +1866-1867. AEt. 52-43. +RESIGNATION OF HIS OFFICE.--CAUSES OF HIS RESIGNATION. + +It is a relief to me that just here, where I come to the first of two +painful episodes in this brilliant and fortunate career, I can preface my +statement with the generous words of one who speaks with authority of his +predecessor in office. + +The Hon. John Jay, Ex-Minister to Austria, in the tribute to the memory +of Motley read at a meeting of the New York Historical Society, wrote as +follows:-- + + "In singular contrast to Mr. Motley's brilliant career as an + historian stands the fact recorded in our diplomatic annals that he + was twice forced from the service as one who had forfeited the + confidence of the American government. This society, while he was + living, recognized his fame as a statesman, diplomatist, and + patriot, as belonging to America, and now that death has closed the + career of Seward, Sumner, and Motley, it will be remembered that the + great historian, twice humiliated, by orders from Washington, before + the diplomacy and culture of Europe, appealed from the passions of + the hour to the verdict of history. + + "Having succeeded Mr. Motley at Vienna some two years after his + departure, I had occasion to read most of his dispatches, which + exhibited a mastery of the subjects of which they treated, with much + of the clear perception, the scholarly and philosophic tone and + decided judgment, which, supplemented by his picturesque + description, full of life and color, have given character to his + histories. They are features which might well have served to extend + the remark of Madame de Stael that a great historian is almost a + statesman. I can speak also from my own observation of the + reputation which Motley left in the Austrian capital. + Notwithstanding the decision with which, under the direction of Mr. + Seward, he had addressed the minister of foreign affairs, Count + Mensdorff, afterwards the Prince Diedrickstein, protesting against + the departure of an Austrian force of one thousand volunteers, who + were about to embark for Mexico in aid of the ill-fated Maximilian, + --a protest which at the last moment arrested the project,--Mr. + Motley and his amiable family were always spoken of in terms of + cordial regard and respect by members of the imperial family and + those eminent statesmen, Count de Beust and Count Andrassy. His + death, I am sure, is mourned to-day by the representatives of the + historic names of Austria and Hungary, and by the surviving + diplomats then residing near the Court of Vienna, wherever they may + still be found, headed by their venerable Doyen, the Baron de + Heckeren." + +The story of Mr. Motley's resignation of his office and its acceptance by +the government is this. + +The President of the United States, Andrew Johnson, received a letter +professing to be written from the Hotel Meurice, Paris, dated October 23, +1866, and signed "George W. M'Crackin, of New York." This letter was +filled with accusations directed against various public agents, +ministers, and consuls, representing the United States in different +countries. Its language was coarse, its assertions were improbable, its +spirit that of the lowest of party scribblers. It was bitter against New +England, especially so against Massachusetts, and it singled out Motley +for the most particular abuse. I think it is still questioned whether +there was any such person as the one named,--at any rate, it bore the +characteristic marks of those vulgar anonymous communications which +rarely receive any attention unless they are important enough to have the +police set on the track of the writer to find his rathole, if possible. A +paragraph in the "Daily Advertiser" of June 7, 1869, quotes from a +Western paper a story to the effect that one William R. M'Crackin, who +had recently died at-----confessed to having written the M' Crackin +letter. Motley, he said, had snubbed him and refused to lend him money. +"He appears to have been a Bohemian of the lowest order." Between such +authorship and the anonymous there does not seem to be much to choose. +But the dying confession sounds in my ears as decidedly apocryphal. As +for the letter, I had rather characterize it than reproduce it. It is an +offence to decency and a disgrace to the national record on which it is +found. This letter of "George W. M'Crackin" passed into the hands of Mr. +Seward, the Secretary of State. Most gentlemen, I think, would have +destroyed it on the spot, as it was not fit for the waste-basket. Some, +more cautious, might have smothered it among the piles of their private +communications. If any notice was taken of it, one would say that a +private note to each of the gentlemen attacked might have warned him that +there were malicious eavesdroppers about, ready to catch up any careless +expression he might let fall and make a scandalous report of it to his +detriment. + +The secretary, acquiescing without resistance in a suggestion of the +President, saw fit to address a formal note to several of the gentlemen +mentioned in the M'Crackin letter, repeating some of its offensive +expressions, and requesting those officials to deny or confirm the report +that they had uttered them. + +A gentleman who is asked whether he has spoken in a "malignant" or +"offensive" manner, whether he has "railed violently and shamefully" +against the President of the United States, or against anybody else, +might well wonder who would address such a question to the humblest +citizen not supposed to be wanting in a common measure of self-respect. A +gentleman holding an important official station in a foreign country, +receiving a letter containing such questions, signed by the prime +minister of his government, if he did not think himself imposed upon by a +forgery, might well consider himself outraged. It was a letter of this +kind which was sent by the Secretary of State to the Minister +Plenipotentiary to the Empire of Austria. Not quite all the vulgar +insolence of the M'Crackin letter was repeated. Mr. Seward did not ask +Mr. Motley to deny or confirm the assertion of the letter that he was a +"thorough flunky" and "un-American functionary." But he did insult him +with various questions suggested by the anonymous letter,--questions that +must have been felt as an indignity by the most thick-skinned of battered +politicians. + +Mr. Motley was very sensitive, very high-spirited, very impulsive, very +patriotic, and singularly truthful. The letter of Mr. Seward to such a +man was like a buffet on the cheek of an unarmed officer. It stung like +the thrust of a stiletto. It roused a resentment that could not find any +words to give it expression. He could not wait to turn the insult over in +his mind, to weigh the exact amount of affront in each question, to take +counsel, to sleep over it, and reply to it with diplomatic measure and +suavity. One hour had scarcely elapsed before his answer was written. As +to his feelings as an American, he appeals to his record. This might have +shown that if he erred it was on the side of enthusiasm and extravagant +expressions of reverence for the American people during the heroic years +just passed. He denounces the accusations as pitiful fabrications and +vile calumny. He blushes that such charges could have been uttered; he is +deeply wounded that Mr. Seward could have listened to such falsehood. He +does not hesitate to say what his opinions are with reference to home +questions, and especially to that of reconstruction. + + "These opinions," he says, "in the privacy of my own household, and + to occasional American visitors, I have not concealed. The great + question now presenting itself for solution demands the + conscientious scrutiny of every American who loves his country and + believes in the human progress of which that country is one of the + foremost representatives. I have never thought, during my residence + at Vienna, that because I have the honor of being a public servant + of the American people I am deprived of the right of discussing + within my own walls the gravest subjects that can interest freemen. + A minister of the United States does not cease to be a citizen of + the United States, as deeply interested as others in all that + relates to the welfare of his country." + +Among the "occasional American visitors" spoken of above must have been +some of those self-appointed or hired agents called "interviewers," who +do for the American public what the Venetian spies did for the Council of +Ten, what the familiars of the Inquisition did for the priesthood, who +invade every public man's privacy, who listen at every key-hole, who +tamper with every guardian of secrets; purveyors to the insatiable +appetite of a public which must have a slain reputation to devour with +its breakfast, as the monster of antiquity called regularly for his +tribute of a spotless virgin. + +The "interviewer" has his use, undoubtedly, and often instructs and +amuses his public with gossip they could not otherwise listen to. He +serves the politician by repeating the artless and unstudied remarks +which fall from his lips in a conversation which the reporter has been +invited to take notes of. He tickles the author's vanity by showing him +off as he sits in his library unconsciously uttering the engaging items +of self-portraiture which, as he well knows, are to be given to the +public in next week's illustrated paper. The feathered end of his shaft +titillates harmlessly enough, but too often the arrowhead is crusted with +a poison worse than the Indian gets by mingling the wolf's gall with the +rattlesnake's venom. No man is safe whose unguarded threshold the +mischief-making questioner has crossed. The more unsuspecting, the more +frank, the more courageous, the more social is the subject of his +vivisection, the more easily does he get at his vital secrets, if he has +any to be extracted. No man is safe if the hearsay reports of his +conversation are to be given to the public without his own careful +revision. When we remember that a proof-text bearing on the mighty +question of the future life, words of supreme significance, uttered as +they were in the last hour, and by the lips to which we listen as to none +other,--that this text depends for its interpretation on the position of +a single comma, we can readily see what wrong may be done by the +unintentional blunder of the most conscientious reporter. But too +frequently it happens that the careless talk of an honest and high-minded +man only reaches the public after filtering through the drain of some +reckless hireling's memory,--one who has played so long with other men's +characters and good name that he forgets they have any value except to +fill out his morning paragraphs. + +Whether the author of the scandalous letter which it was disgraceful to +the government to recognize was a professional interviewer or only a +malicious amateur, or whether he was a paid "spotter," sent by some +jealous official to report on the foreign ministers as is sometimes done +in the case of conductors of city horsecars, or whether the dying +miscreant before mentioned told the truth, cannot be certainly known. But +those who remember Mr. Hawthorne's account of his consular experiences at +Liverpool are fully aware to what intrusions and impertinences and +impositions our national representatives in other countries are +subjected. Those fellow-citizens who "often came to the consulate in +parties of half a dozen or more, on no business whatever, but merely to +subject their public servant to a rigid examination, and see how he was +getting on with his duties," may very possibly have included among them +some such mischief-maker as the author of the odious letter which +received official recognition. Mr. Motley had spoken in one of his +histories of "a set of venomous familiars who glided through every +chamber and coiled themselves at every fireside." He little thought that +under his own roof he himself was to be the victim of an equally base +espionage. + +It was an insult on the part of the government to have sent Mr. Motley +such a letter with such questions as were annexed to it. No very exact +rule can be laid down as to the manner in which an insult shall be dealt +with. Something depends on temperament, and his was of the warmer +complexion. His first impulse, he says, was to content himself with a +flat denial of the truth of the accusations. But his scrupulous honesty +compelled him to make a plain statement of his opinions, and to avow the +fact that he had made no secret of them in conversation under conditions +where he had a right to speak freely of matters quite apart from his +official duties. His answer to the accusation was denial of its charges; +his reply to the insult was his resignation. + +It may be questioned whether this was the wisest course, but wisdom is +often disconcerted by an indignity, and even a meek Christian may forget +to turn the other cheek after receiving the first blow until the natural +man has asserted himself by a retort in kind. But the wrong was +committed; his resignation was accepted; the vulgar letter, not fit to be +spread out on these pages, is enrolled in the records of the nation, and +the first deep wound was inflicted on the proud spirit of one whose +renown had shed lustre on the whole country. + +That the burden of this wrong may rest where it belongs, I quote the +following statement from Mr. Jay's paper, already referred to. + + "It is due to the memory of Mr. Seward to say, and there would seem + now no further motive for concealing the truth, that I was told in + Europe, on what I regarded as reliable authority, that there was + reason to believe that on the receipt of Mr. Motley's resignation + Mr. Seward had written to him declining to accept it, and that this + letter, by a telegraphic order of President Johnson, had been + arrested in the hands of a dispatch agent before its delivery to Mr. + Motley, and that the curt letter of the 18th of April had been + substituted in its stead." + +The Hon. John Bigelow, late Minister to France, has published an article +in "The International Review" for July-August, 1878, in which he defends +his late friend Mr. Seward's action in this matter at the expense of the +President, Mr. Andrew Johnson, and not without inferences unfavorable to +the discretion of Mr. Motley. Many readers will think that the simple +record of Mr. Seward's unresisting acquiescence in the action of the +President is far from being to his advantage. I quote from his own +conversation as carefully reported by his friend Mr. Bigelow. "Mr. +Johnson was in a state of intense irritation, and more or less suspicious +of everybody about him."--"Instead of throwing the letter into the fire," +the President handed it to him, the secretary, and suggested answering +it, and without a word, so far as appears, he simply answered, +"Certainly, sir." Again, the secretary having already written to Mr. +Motley that "his answer was satisfactory," the President, on reaching the +last paragraph of Mr. Motley's letter, in which he begged respectfully to +resign his post, "without waiting to learn what Mr. Seward had done or +proposed to do, exclaimed, with a not unnatural asperity, 'Well, let him +go,' and 'on hearing this,' said Mr. Seward, laughing, 'I did not read my +dispatch.'" Many persons will think that the counsel for the defence has +stated the plaintiff's case so strongly that there is nothing left for +him but to show his ingenuity and his friendship for the late secretary +in a hopeless argument. At any rate, Mr. Seward appears not to have made +the slightest effort to protect Mr. Motley against his coarse and jealous +chief at two critical moments, and though his own continuance in office +may have been more important to the State than that of the Vicar of Bray +was to the Church, he ought to have risked something, as it seems to me, +to shield such a patriot, such a gentleman, such a scholar, from ignoble +treatment; he ought to have been as ready to guard Mr. Motley from wrong +as Mr. Bigelow has shown himself to shield Mr. Seward from reproach, and +his task, if more delicate, was not more difficult. I am willing to +accept Mr. Bigelow's loyal and honorable defence of his friend's memory +as the best that could be said for Mr. Seward, but the best defence in +this case is little better than an impeachment. As for Mr. Johnson, he +had held the weapon of the most relentless of the 'Parcae' so long that +his suddenly clipping the thread of a foreign minister's tenure of office +in a fit of jealous anger is not at all surprising. + +Thus finished Mr. Motley's long and successful diplomatic service at the +Court of Austria. He may have been judged hasty in resigning his place; +he may have committed himself in expressing his opinions too strongly +before strangers, whose true character as spies and eavesdroppers he was +too high-minded to suspect. But no caution could have protected him +against a slanderer who hated the place he came from, the company he +kept, the name he had made famous, to whom his very look and bearing +--such as belong to a gentleman of natural refinement and good breeding +--must have been a personal grievance and an unpardonable offence. + +I will add, in illustration of what has been said, and as showing his +feeling with reference to the matter, an extract from a letter to me from +Vienna, dated the 12th of March, 1867. + + . . . "As so many friends and so many strangers have said so much + that is gratifying to me in public and private on this very painful + subject, it would be like affectation, in writing to so old a friend + as you, not to touch upon it. I shall confine myself, however, to + one fact, which, so far as I know, may be new to you. + + "Geo. W. M'Cracken is a man and a name utterly unknown to me. + + "With the necessary qualification which every man who values truth + must make when asserting such a negation,--viz., to the very best of + my memory and belief,--I never set eyes on him nor heard of him + until now, in the whole course of my life. Not a member of my + family or of the legation has the faintest recollection of any such + person. I am quite convinced that he never saw me nor heard the + sound of my voice. That his letter was a tissue of vile calumnies, + shameless fabrications, and unblushing and contemptible falsehoods, + --by whomsoever uttered,--I have stated in a reply to what ought + never to have been an official letter. No man can regret more than + I do that such a correspondence is enrolled in the capital among + American state papers. I shall not trust myself to speak of the + matter. It has been a sufficiently public scandal." + + + + +XIX. + +1867-1868. AEt. 53-54. + +LAST TWO VOLUMES OF THE "HISTORY OF THE UNITED NETHERLANDS."--GENERAL +CRITICISMS OF DUTCH SCHOLARS ON MOTLEY'S HISTORICAL WORKS. + +In his letter to me of March 12, 1867, just cited, Mr. Motley writes:-- + + "My two concluding volumes of the United Netherlands are passing + rapidly through the press. Indeed, Volume III. is entirely printed + and a third of Volume IV. + + "If I live ten years longer I shall have probably written the + natural sequel to the first two works,--viz., the Thirty Years' War. + After that I shall cease to scourge the public. + + "I don't know whether my last two volumes are good or bad; I only + know that they are true--but that need n't make them amusing. + + "Alas! one never knows when one becomes a bore." + +In 1868 the two concluding volumes of the "History of the Netherlands" +were published at the same time in London and in New York. The events +described and the characters delineated in these two volumes had, +perhaps, less peculiar interest for English and American readers than +some of those which had lent attraction to the preceding ones. There was +no scene like the siege of Antwerp, no story like that of the Spanish +Armada. There were no names that sounded to our ears like those of Sir +Philip Sidney and Leicester and Amy Robsart. But the main course of his +narrative flowed on with the same breadth and depth of learning and the +same brilliancy of expression. The monumental work continued as nobly as +it had begun. The facts had been slowly, quietly gathered, one by one, +like pebbles from the empty channel of a brook. The style was fluent, +impetuous, abundant, impatient, as it were, at times, and leaping the +sober boundaries prescribed to it, like the torrent which rushes through +the same channel when the rains have filled it. Thus there was matter for +criticism in his use of language. He was not always careful in the +construction of his sentences. He introduced expressions now and then +into his vocabulary which reminded one of his earlier literary efforts. +He used stronger language at times than was necessary, coloring too +highly, shading too deeply in his pictorial delineations. To come to the +matter of his narrative, it must be granted that not every reader will +care to follow him through all the details of diplomatic intrigues which +he has with such industry and sagacity extricated from the old +manuscripts in which they had long lain hidden. But we turn a few pages +and we come to one of those descriptions which arrest us at once and show +him in his power and brilliancy as a literary artist. His characters move +before us with the features of life; we can see Elizabeth, or Philip, or +Maurice, not as a name connected with events, but as a breathing and +acting human being, to be loved or hated, admired or despised, as if he +or she were our contemporary. That all his judgments would not be +accepted as final we might easily anticipate; he could not help writing +more or less as a partisan, but he was a partisan on the side of freedom +in politics and religion, of human nature as against every form of +tyranny, secular or priestly, of noble manhood wherever he saw it as +against meanness and violence and imposture, whether clad in the +soldier's mail or the emperor's purple. His sternest critics, and even +these admiring ones, were yet to be found among those who with +fundamental beliefs at variance with his own followed him in his long +researches among the dusty annals of the past. + +The work of the learned M. Groen van Prinsterer,--[Maurice et Barnevelt, +Etude Historique. Utrecht, 1875.]--devoted expressly to the revision and +correction of what the author considers the erroneous views of Mr. Motley +on certain important points, bears, notwithstanding, such sincere and +hearty tribute to his industry, his acquisitions, his brilliant qualities +as a historian, that some extracts from it will be read, I think, with +interest. + + "My first interview, more than twenty years ago, with Mr. Lothrop + Motley, has left an indelible impression on my memory. + + "It was the 8th of August, 1853. A note is handed me from our + eminent archivist Bakhuyzen van den Brink. It informs me that I am + to receive a visit from an American, who, having been struck by the + analogies between the United Provinces and the United States, + between Washington and the founder of our independence, has + interrupted his diplomatic career to write the life of William the + First; that he has already given proof of ardor and perseverance, + having worked in libraries and among collections of manuscripts, + and that he is coming to pursue his studies at the Hague. + + "While I am surprised and delighted with this intelligence, I am + informed that Mr. Motley himself is waiting for my answer. My + eagerness to make the acquaintance of such an associate in my + sympathies and my labors may be well imagined. But how shall I + picture my surprise, in presently discovering that this unknown and + indefatigable fellow-worker has really read, I say read and reread, + our Quartos, our Folios, the enormous volumes of Bor, of van + Meteren, besides a multitude of books, of pamphlets, and even of + unedited documents. Already he is familiar with the events, the + changes of condition, the characteristic details of the life of his + and my hero. Not only is he acquainted with my Archives, but it + seems as if there was nothing in this voluminous collection of which + he was ignorant. . . . + + "In sending me the last volume of his 'History of the Foundation of + the Republic of the Netherlands,' Mr. Motley wrote to me: 'Without + the help of the Archives I could never have undertaken the difficult + task I had set myself, and you will have seen at least from my + numerous citations that I have made a sincere and conscientious + study of them.' Certainly in reading such a testimonial I + congratulated myself on the excellent fruit of my labors, but the + gratitude expressed to me by Mr. Motley was sincerely reciprocated. + The Archives are a scientific collection, and my 'Manual of National + History,' written in Dutch, hardly gets beyond the limits of my own + country. And here is a stranger, become our compatriot in virtue of + the warmth of his sympathies, who has accomplished what was not in + my power. By the detail and the charm of his narrative, by the + matter and form of a work which the universality of the English + language and numerous translations were to render cosmopolitan, Mr. + Motley, like that other illustrious historian, Prescott, lost to + science by too early death, has popularized in both hemispheres the + sublime devotion of the Prince of Orange, the exceptional and + providential destinies of my country, and the benedictions of the + Eternal for all those who trust in Him and tremble only at his + Word." + +The old Dutch scholar differs in many important points from Mr. Motley, +as might be expected from his creed and his life-long pursuits. This I +shall refer to in connection with Motley's last work, "John of +Barneveld." An historian among archivists and annalists reminds one of +Sir John Lubbock in the midst of his ant-hills. Undoubtedly he disturbs +the ants in their praiseworthy industry, much as his attentions may +flatter them. Unquestionably the ants (if their means of expressing +themselves were equal to their apparent intellectual ability) could teach +him many things that he has overlooked and correct him in many mistakes. +But the ants will labor ingloriously without an observer to chronicle +their doings, and the archivists and annalists will pile up facts forever +like so many articulates or mollusks or radiates, until the vertebrate +historian comes with his generalizing ideas, his beliefs, his prejudices, +his idiosyncrasies of all kinds, and brings the facts into a more or less +imperfect, but still organic series of relations. The history which is +not open to adverse criticism is worth little, except as material, for it +is written without taking cognizance of those higher facts about which +men must differ; of which Guizot writes as follows, as quoted in the work +of M. Groen van Prinsterer himself. + + "It is with facts that our minds are exercised, it has nothing but + facts as its materials, and when it discovers general laws these + laws are themselves facts which it determines. . . . In the + study of facts the intelligence may allow itself to be crushed; it + may lower, narrow, materialize itself; it may come to believe that + there are no facts except those which strike us at the first glance, + which come close to us, which fall, as we say, under our senses; a + great and gross error; there are remote facts, immense, obscure, + sublime, very difficult to reach, to observe, to describe, and which + are not any less facts for these reasons, and which man is not less + obliged to study and to know; and if he fails to recognize them or + forgets them, his thought will be prodigiously abashed, and all his + ideas carry the stamp of this deterioration." + +In that higher region of facts which belongs to the historian, whose task +it is to interpret as well as to transcribe, Mr. Motley showed, of +course, the political and religious school in which he had been brought +up. Every man has a right to his "personal equation" of prejudice, and +Mr. Motley, whose ardent temperament gave life to his writings, betrayed +his sympathies in the disputes of which he told the story, in a way to +insure sharp criticism from those of a different way of thinking. Thus it +is that in the work of M. Groen van Prinsterer, from which I have quoted, +he is considered as having been betrayed into error, while his critic +recognizes "his manifest desire to be scrupulously impartial and +truth-telling." And M. Fruin, another of his Dutch critics, says, "His +sincerity, his perspicacity, the accuracy of his laborious researches, +are incontestable." + +Some of the criticisms of Dutch scholars will be considered in the pages +which deal with his last work, "The Life of John of Barneveld." + + + + +XX. + +1868-1869. AEt. 54-55. + +VISIT TO AMERICA.--RESIDENCE AT NO. 2 PARK STREET, BOSTON.--ADDRESS ON +THE COMING PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION.--ADDRESS ON HISTORIC PROGRESS AND +AMERICAN DEMOCRACY.--APPOINTED MINISTER TO ENGLAND. + +In June, 1868, Mr. Motley returned with his family to Boston, and +established himself in the house No. 2 Park Street. During his residence +here he entered a good deal into society, and entertained many visitors +in a most hospitable and agreeable way. + +On the 20th of October, 1868, he delivered an address before the Parker +Fraternity, in the Music Hall, by special invitation. Its title was "Four +Questions for the People, at the Presidential Election." This was of +course what is commonly called an electioneering speech, but a speech +full of noble sentiments and eloquent expression. Here are two of its +paragraphs:-- + + "Certainly there have been bitterly contested elections in this + country before. Party spirit is always rife, and in such vivid, + excitable, disputatious communities as ours are, and I trust always + will be, it is the very soul of freedom. To those who reflect upon + the means and end of popular government, nothing seems more stupid + than in grand generalities to deprecate party spirit. Why, + government by parties and through party machinery is the only + possible method by which a free government can accomplish the + purpose of its existence. The old republics of the past may be said + to have fallen, not because of party spirit, but because there was + no adequate machinery by which party spirit could develop itself + with facility and regularity. + + "And if our Republic be true to herself, the future of the human + race is assured by our example. No sweep of overwhelming armies, no + ponderous treatises on the rights of man, no hymns to liberty, + though set to martial music and resounding with the full diapason of + a million human throats, can exert so persuasive an influence as + does the spectacle of a great republic, occupying a quarter of the + civilized globe, and governed quietly and sagely by the people + itself." + +A large portion of this address is devoted to the proposition that it is +just and reasonable to pay our debts rather than to repudiate them, and +that the nation is as much bound to be honest as is the individual. "It +is an awful thing," he says, "that this should be a question at all," but +it was one of the points on which the election turned, for all that. + +In his advocacy of the candidate with whom, and the government of which +he became the head, his relations became afterwards so full of personal +antagonism, he spoke as a man of his ardent nature might be expected to +speak on such an occasion. No one doubts that his admiration of General +Grant's career was perfectly sincere, and no one at the present day can +deny that the great captain stood before the historian with such a record +as one familiar with the deeds of heroes and patriots might well consider +as entitling him to the honors too often grudged to the living to be +wasted on the dead. The speaker only gave voice to the widely prevailing +feelings which had led to his receiving the invitation to speak. The time +was one which called for outspoken utterance, and there was not a +listener whose heart did not warm as he heard the glowing words in which +the speaker recorded the noble achievements of the soldier who must in so +many ways have reminded him of his favorite character, William the +Silent. + +On the 16th of December of this same year, 1868, Mr. Motley delivered an +address before the New York Historical Society, on the occasion of the +sixty-fourth anniversary of its foundation. The president of the society, +Mr. Hamilton Fish, introduced the speaker as one "whose name belongs to +no single country, and to no single age. As a statesman and diplomatist +and patriot, he belongs to America; as a scholar, to the world of +letters; as a historian, all ages will claim him in the future." + +His subject was "Historic Progress and American Democracy." The discourse +is, to use his own words, "a rapid sweep through the eons and the +centuries," illustrating the great truth of the development of the race +from its origin to the time in which we are living. It is a long distance +from the planetary fact of the obliquity of the equator, which gave the +earth its alternation of seasons, and rendered the history, if not the +existence of man and of civilization a possibility, to the surrender of +General Lee under the apple-tree at Appomattox Court-House. No one but a +scholar familiar with the course of history could have marshalled such a +procession of events into a connected and intelligible sequence. It is +indeed a flight rather than a march; the reader is borne along as on the +wings of a soaring poem, and sees the rising and decaying empires of +history beneath him as a bird of passage marks the succession of cities +and wilds and deserts as he keeps pace with the sun in his journey. + +Its eloquence, its patriotism, its crowded illustrations, drawn from vast +resources of knowledge, its epigrammatic axioms, its occasional +pleasantries, are all characteristic of the writer. + +Mr. Gulian C. Verplanck, the venerable senior member of the society, +proposed the vote of thanks to Mr. Motley with words of warm +commendation. + +Mr. William Cullen Bryant rose and said:-- + + "I take great pleasure in seconding the resolution which has just + been read. The eminent historian of the Dutch Republic, who has + made the story of its earlier days as interesting as that of Athens + and Sparta, and who has infused into the narrative the generous glow + of his own genius, has the highest of titles to be heard with + respectful attention by the citizens of a community which, in its + origin, was an offshoot of that renowned republic. And cheerfully + has that title been recognized, as the vast audience assembled here + to-night, in spite of the storm, fully testifies; and well has our + illustrious friend spoken of the growth of civilization and of the + improvement in the condition of mankind, both in the Old World--the + institutions of which he has so lately observed--and in the country + which is proud to claim him as one of her children." + +Soon after the election of General Grant, Mr. Motley received the +appointment of Minister to England. That the position was one which was +in many respects most agreeable to him cannot be doubted. Yet it was not +with unmingled feelings of satisfaction, not without misgivings which +warned him but too truly of the dangers about to encompass him, that he +accepted the place. He writes to me on April 16, 1869:-- + + "I feel anything but exultation at present,--rather the opposite + sensation. I feel that I am placed higher than I deserve, and at + the same time that I am taking greater responsibilities than ever + were assumed by me before. You will be indulgent to my mistakes and + shortcomings,--and who can expect to avoid them? But the world will + be cruel, and the times are threatening. I shall do my best,--but + the best may be poor enough,--and keep 'a heart for any fate.'" + + + + +XXI. + +1869-1870. AEt. 55-56. +RECALL FROM THE ENGLISH MISSION.--ITS ALLEGED AND ITS PROBABLE REASONS. + +The misgivings thus expressed to me in confidence, natural enough in one +who had already known what it is to fall on evil days and evil tongues, +were but too well justified by after events. I could have wished to leave +untold the story of the English mission, an episode in Motley's life full +of heart-burnings, and long to be regretted as a passage of American +history. But his living appeal to my indulgence comes to me from his +grave as a call for his defence, however little needed, at least as a +part of my tribute to his memory. It is little needed, because the case +is clear enough to all intelligent readers of our diplomatic history, and +because his cause has been amply sustained by others in many ways better +qualified than myself to do it justice. The task is painful, for if a +wrong was done him it must be laid at the doors of those whom the nation +has delighted to honor, and whose services no error of judgment or +feeling or conduct can ever induce us to forget. If he confessed him, +self-liable, like the rest of us, to mistakes and shortcomings, we must +remember that the great officers of the government who decreed his +downfall were not less the subjects of human infirmity. + +The outline to be filled up is this: A new administration had just been +elected. The "Alabama Treaty," negotiated by Motley's predecessor, Mr. +Reverdy Johnson, had been rejected by the Senate. The minister was +recalled, and Motley, nominated without opposition and unanimously +confirmed by the Senate, was sent to England in his place. He was +welcomed most cordially on his arrival at Liverpool, and replied in a +similar strain of good feeling, expressing the same kindly sentiments +which may be found in his instructions. Soon after arriving in London he +had a conversation with Lord Clarendon, the British Foreign Secretary, of +which he sent a full report to his own government. While the reported +conversation was generally approved of in the government's dispatch +acknowledging it, it was hinted that some of its expressions were +stronger than were required by the instructions, and that one of its +points was not conveyed in precise conformity with the President's view. +The criticism was very gently worded, and the dispatch closed with a +somewhat guarded paragraph repeating the government's approbation. + +This was the first offence alleged against Mr. Motley. The second ground +of complaint was that he had shown written minutes of this conversation +to Lord Clarendon to obtain his confirmation of its exactness, and that +he had--as he said, inadvertently,--omitted to make mention to the +government of this circumstance until some weeks after the time of the +interview. + +He was requested to explain to Lord Clarendon that a portion of his +presentation and treatment of the subject discussed at the interview +immediately after his arrival was disapproved by the Secretary of State, +and he did so in a written communication, in which he used the very words +employed by Mr. Fish in his criticism of the conversation with Lord +Clarendon. An alleged mistake; a temperate criticism, coupled with a +general approval; a rectification of the mistake criticised. All this +within the first two months of Mr. Motley's official residence in London. + +No further fault was found with him, so far as appears, in the discharge +of his duties, to which he must have devoted himself faithfully, for he +writes to me, under the date of December 27, 1870: "I have worked harder +in the discharge of this mission than I ever did in my life." This from a +man whose working powers astonished the old Dutch archivist, Groen van +Prinsterer, means a good deal. + +More than a year had elapsed since the interview with Lord Clarendon, +which had been the subject of criticism. In the mean time a paper of +instructions was sent to Motley, dated September 25, 1869, in which the +points in the report of his interview which had been found fault with are +so nearly covered by similar expressions, that there seemed no real +ground left for difference between the government and the minister. +Whatever over-statement there had been, these new instructions would +imply that the government was now ready to go quite as far as the +minister had gone, and in some points to put the case still more +strongly. Everything was going on quietly. Important business had been +transacted, with no sign of distrust or discontent on the part of the +government as regarded Motley. Whatever mistake he was thought to have +committed was condoned by amicable treatment, neutralized by the virtual +indorsement of the government in the instructions of the 25th of +September, and obsolete as a ground of quarrel by lapse of time. The +question about which the misunderstanding, if such it deserves to be +called, had taken place, was no longer a possible source of disagreement, +as it had long been settled that the Alabama case should only be opened +again at the suggestion of the British government, and that it should be +transferred to Washington whenever that suggestion should again bring it +up for consideration. + +Such was the aspect of affairs at the American Legation in London. No +foreign minister felt more secure in his place than Mr. Motley. "I +thought myself," he says in the letter of December 27, "entirely in the +confidence of my own government, and I know that I had the thorough +confidence and the friendship of the leading personages in England." All +at once, on the first of July, 1870, a letter was written by the +Secretary of State, requesting him to resign. This gentle form of +violence is well understood in the diplomatic service. Horace Walpole +says, speaking of Lady Archibald Hamilton: "They have civilly asked her +and grossly forced her to ask civilly to go away, which she has done, +with a pension of twelve hundred a year." Such a request is like the +embrace of the "virgin" in old torture-chambers. She is robed in soft +raiment, but beneath it are the knife-blades which are ready to lacerate +and kill the victim, if he awaits the pressure of the machinery already +in motion. + +Mr. Motley knew well what was the logical order in an official execution, +and saw fit to let the government work its will upon him as its servant. +In November he was recalled. + +The recall of a minister under such circumstances is an unusual if not an +unprecedented occurrence. The government which appoints a citizen to +represent the country at a foreign court assumes a very serious +obligation to him. The next administration may turn him out and nothing +will be thought of it. He may be obliged to ask for his passports and +leave all at once if war is threatened between his own country and that +which he represents. He may, of course, be recalled for gross misconduct. +But his dismissal is very serious matter to him personally, and not to be +thought of on the ground of passion or caprice. Marriage is a simple +business, but divorce is a very different thing. The world wants to know +the reason of it; the law demands its justification. It was a great blow +to Mr. Motley, a cause of indignation to those who were interested in +him, a surprise and a mystery to the world in general. + +When he, his friends, and the public, all startled by this unexpected +treatment, looked to find an explanation of it, one was found which +seemed to many quite sufficient. Mr. Sumner had been prominent among +those who had favored his appointment. A very serious breach had taken +place between the President and Mr. Sumner on the important San Domingo +question. It was a quarrel, in short, neither more nor less, at least so +far as the President was concerned. The proposed San Domingo treaty had +just been rejected by the Senate, on the thirtieth day of June, and +immediately thereupon,--the very next day,--the letter requesting Mr. +Motley's resignation was issued by the executive. This fact was +interpreted as implying something more than a mere coincidence. It was +thought that Sumner's friend, who had been supported by him as a +candidate for high office, who shared many of his political ideas and +feelings, who was his intimate associate, his fellow-townsman, his +companion in scholarship and cultivation, his sympathetic co-laborer in +many ways, had been accounted and dealt with as the ally of an enemy, and +that the shaft which struck to the heart of the sensitive envoy had +glanced from the 'aes triplex' of the obdurate Senator. + +Mr. Motley wrote a letter to the Secretary of State immediately after his +recall, in which he reviewed his relations with the government from the +time of his taking office, and showed that no sufficient reason could be +assigned for the treatment to which he had been subjected. He referred +finally to the public rumor which assigned the President's hostility to +his friend Sumner, growing out of the San Domingo treaty question, as the +cause of his own removal, and to the coincidence between the dates of the +rejection of the treaty and his dismissal, with an evident belief that +these two occurrences were connected by something more than accident. + +To this, a reply was received from the Secretary of State's office, +signed by Mr. Fish, but so objectionable in its tone and expressions that +it has been generally doubted whether the paper could claim anything more +of the secretary's hand than his signature. It travelled back to the old +record of the conversation with Lord Clarendon, more than a year and a +half before, took up the old exceptions, warmed them over into +grievances, and joined with them whatever the 'captatores verborum,' not +extinct since Daniel Webster's time, could add to their number. This was +the letter which was rendered so peculiarly offensive by a most +undignified comparison which startled every well-bred reader. No answer +was possible to such a letter, and the matter rested until the death of +Mr. Motley caused it to be brought up once more for judgment. + +The Honorable John Jay, in his tribute to the memory of Mr. Motley, read +at a meeting of the New York Historical Society, vindicated his character +against the attacks of the late executive in such a way as to leave an +unfavorable impression as to the course of the government. Objection was +made on this account to placing the tribute upon the minutes of the +society. This led to a publication by Mr. Jay, entitled "Motley's Appeal +to History," in which the propriety of the society's action is +questioned, and the wrong done to him insisted upon and further +illustrated. + +The defence could not have fallen into better hands. Bearing a name which +is, in itself, a title to the confidence of the American people, a +diplomatist familiar with the rights, the customs, the traditions, the +courtesies, which belong to the diplomatic service, the successor of Mr. +Motley at Vienna, and therefore familiar with his official record, not +self-made, which too commonly means half-made, but with careful training +added to the instincts to which he had a right by inheritance, he could +not allow the memory of such a scholar, of such a high-minded lover of +his country, of so true a gentleman as Mr. Motley, to remain without +challenge under the stigma of official condemnation. I must refer to Mr. +Jay's memorial tribute as printed in the newspapers of the day, and to +his "Appeal" published in "The International Review," for his convincing +presentation of the case, and content myself with a condensed statement +of the general and special causes of complaint against Mr. Motley, and +the explanations which suggest themselves, as abundantly competent to +show the insufficiency of the reasons alleged by the government as an +excuse for the manner in which he was treated. + +The grounds of complaint against Mr. Motley are to be looked for:-- + +1. In the letter of Mr. Fish to Mr. Moran, of December 30, 1870. + +2. In Mr. Bancroft Davis's letter to the New York "Herald" of January 4, +1878, entitled, "Mr. Sumner, the Alabama Claims and their Settlement." + +3. The reported conversations of General Grant. + +4. The reported conversations of Mr. Fish. + +In considering Mr. Fish's letter, we must first notice its animus. The +manner in which Dickens's two old women are brought in is not only +indecorous, but it shows a state of feeling from which nothing but harsh +interpretation of every questionable expression of Mr. Motley's was to be +expected. + +There is not the least need of maintaining the perfect fitness and +rhetorical felicity of every phrase and every word used by him in his +interview with Lord Clarendon. It is not to be expected that a minister, +when about to hold a conversation with a representative of the government +to which he is accredited, will commit his instructions to memory and +recite them, like a school-boy "speaking his piece." He will give them +more or less in his own language, amplifying, it may be, explaining, +illustrating, at any rate paraphrasing in some degree, but endeavoring to +convey an idea of their essential meaning. In fact, as any one can see, a +conversation between two persons must necessarily imply a certain amount +of extemporization on the part of both. I do not believe any long and +important conference was ever had between two able men without each of +them feeling that he had not spoken exactly in all respects as he would +if he could say all over again. + +Doubtless, therefore, Mr. Motley's report of his conversation shows that +some of his expressions might have been improved, and others might as +well have been omitted. A man does not change his temperament on taking +office. General Jackson still swore "by the Eternal," and his illustrious +military successor of a more recent period seems, by his own showing, to +have been able to sudden impulses of excitement. It might be said of +Motley, as it was said of Shakespeare by Ben Jonson, "aliquando +sufflaminandus erat." Yet not too much must be made of this concession. +Only a determination to make out a case could, as it seems to me, have +framed such an indictment as that which the secretary constructed by +stringing together a slender list of pretended peccadillos. One instance +will show the extreme slightness which characterizes many of the grounds +of inculpation:-- + +The instructions say, "The government, in rejecting the recent +convention, abandons neither its own claims nor those of its citizens," +etc. + +Mr. Motley said, in the course of his conversation, "At present, the +United States government, while withdrawing neither its national claims +nor the claims of its individual citizens against the British +government," etc. + +Mr. Fish says, "The determination of this government not to abandon its +claims nor those of its citizens was stated parenthetically, and in such +a subordinate way as not necessarily to attract the attention of Lord +Clarendon." + +What reported conversation can stand a captious criticism like this? Are +there not two versions of the ten commandments which were given out in +the thunder and smoke of Sinai, and would the secretary hold that this +would have been a sufficient reason to recall Moses from his "Divine +Legation" at the court of the Almighty? + +There are certain expressions which, as Mr. Fish shows them apart from +their connection, do very certainly seem in bad taste, if not actually +indiscreet and unjustifiable. Let me give an example:-- + + "Instead of expressing the hope entertained by this government that + there would be an early, satisfactory, and friendly settlement of + the questions at issue, he volunteered the unnecessary, and from the + manner in which it was thrust in, the highly objectionable statement + that the United States government had no insidious purposes,'" etc. + +This sounds very badly as Mr. Fish puts it; let us see how it stands in +its proper connection:-- + + "He [Lord Clarendon] added with some feeling, that in his opinion it + would be highly objectionable that the question should be hung up on + a peg, to be taken down at some convenient moment for us, when it + might be difficult for the British government to enter upon its + solution, and when they might go into the debate at a disadvantage. + These were, as nearly as I can remember, his words, and I replied + very earnestly that I had already answered that question when I said + that my instructions were to propose as brief a delay as would + probably be requisite for the cooling of passions and for producing + the calm necessary for discussing the defects of the old treaty and + a basis for a new one. The United States government had no + insidious purposes," etc. + +Is it not evident that Lord Clarendon suggested the idea which Mr. Motley +repelled as implying an insidious mode of action? Is it not just as clear +that Mr. Fish's way of reproducing the expression without the insinuation +which called it forth is a practical misstatement which does Mr. Motley +great wrong? + +One more example of the method of wringing a dry cloth for drops of +evidence ought to be enough to show the whole spirit of the paper. + +Mr. Fish, in his instructions:-- + + "It might, indeed, well have occurred in the event of the selection + by lot of the arbitrator or umpire in different cases, involving + however precisely the same principles, that different awards, + resting upon antagonistic principles, might have been made." + +Mr. Motley, in the conversation with Lord Clarendon:-- + + "I called his lordship's attention to your very judicious suggestion + that the throwing of the dice for umpires might bring about opposite + decisions in cases arising out of identical principles. He agreed + entirely that no principle was established by the treaty, but that + the throwing of dice or drawing of lots was not a new invention on + that occasion, but a not uncommon method in arbitrations. I only + expressed the opinion that such an aleatory process seemed an + unworthy method in arbitrations," etc. + +Mr. Fish, in his letter to Mr. Moran:-- + + "That he had in his mind at that interview something else than his + letter of instructions from this department would appear to be + evident, when he says that 'he called his lordship's attention to + your [my] very judicious suggestion that the throwing of dice for + umpire might bring about opposite decisions.' The instructions + which Mr. Motley received from me contained no suggestion about + throwing of dice.' That idea is embraced in the suggestive words + 'aleatory process' (adopted by Mr. Motley), but previously applied + in a speech made in the Senate on the question of ratifying the + treaty." + +Charles Sumner's Speech on the Johnson-Clarendon Treaty, April 13, 1869: + + "In the event of failure to agree, the arbitrator is determined 'by + lot' out of two persons named by each side. Even if this aleatory + proceeding were a proper device in the umpirage of private claims, + it is strongly inconsistent with the solemnity which belongs to the + present question." + +It is "suggestive" that the critical secretary, so keen in detecting +conversational inaccuracies, having but two words to quote from a printed +document, got one of them wrong. But this trivial comment must not lead +the careful reader to neglect to note how much is made of what is really +nothing at all. The word aleatory, whether used in its original and +limited sense, or in its derived extension as a technical term of the +civil law, was appropriate and convenient; one especially likely to be +remembered by any person who had read Mr. Sumner's speech,--and everybody +had read it; the secretary himself doubtless got the suggestion of +determining the question "by lot" from it. What more natural than that it +should be used again when the subject of appealing to chance came up in +conversation? It "was an excellent good word before it was ill-sorted," +and we were fortunate in having a minister who was scholar enough to know +what it meant. The language used by Mr. Motley conveyed the idea of his +instructions plainly enough, and threw in a compliment to their author +which should have saved this passage at least from the wringing process. +The example just given is, like the concession of belligerency to the +insurgents by Great Britain, chiefly important as "showing animus." + +It is hardly necessary to bring forward other instances of virtual +misrepresentation. If Mr. Motley could have talked his conversation over +again, he would very probably have changed some expressions. But he felt +bound to repeat the interview exactly as it occurred, with all the errors +to which its extemporaneous character exposed it. When a case was to be +made out against him, the secretary wrote, December 30, 1870: + + "Well might he say, as he did in a subsequent dispatch on the 15th + of July, 1869, that he had gone beyond the strict letter of his + instructions. He might have added, in direct opposition to their + temper and spirit." + +Of the same report the secretary had said, June 28, 1869: "Your general +presentation and treatment of the several subjects discussed in that +interview meet the approval of this department." This general approval is +qualified by mild criticism of a single statement as not having been +conveyed in "precise conformity" to the President's view. The minister +was told he might be well content to rest the question on the very +forcible presentation he had made of the American side of the question, +and that if there were expressions used stronger than were required by +his instructions, they were in the right direction. The mere fact that a +minute of this conversation was confidentially submitted to Lord +Clarendon in order that our own government might have his authority for +the accuracy of the record, which was intended exclusively for its own +use, and that this circumstance was overlooked and not reported to the +government until some weeks afterward, are the additional charges against +Mr. Motley. The submission of the dispatch containing an account of the +interview, the secretary says, is not inconsistent with diplomatic usage, +but it is inconsistent with the duty of a minister not to inform his +government of that submission. "Mr. Motley submitted the draft of his No. +8 to Lord Clarendon, and failed to communicate that fact to his +government." He did inform Mr. Fish, at any rate, on the 30th of July, +and alleged "inadvertence" as the reason for his omission to do it +before. + +Inasmuch as submitting the dispatch was not inconsistent with diplomatic +usage, nothing seems left to find fault with but the not very long delay +in mentioning the fact, or in his making the note "private and +confidential," as is so frequently done in diplomatic correspondence. + +Such were the grounds of complaint. On the strength of the conversation +which had met with the general approval of the government, tempered by +certain qualifications, and of the omission to report immediately to the +government the fact of its verification by Lord Clarendon, the secretary +rests the case against Mr. Motley. On these grounds it was that, +according to him, the President withdrew all right to discuss the Alabama +question from the minister whose dismissal was now only a question of +time. But other evidence comes in here. + +Mr. Motley says:-- + + "It was, as I supposed, understood before my departure for England, + although not publicly announced, that the so-called Alabama + negotiations, whenever renewed, should be conducted at Washington, + in case of the consent of the British government." + +Mr. Sumner says, in his "Explanation in Reply to an Assault:"-- + + "The secretary in a letter to me at Boston, dated at Washington, + October 9, 1869, informs the that the discussion of the question was + withdrawn from London 'because (the italics are the secretary's) we + think that when renewed it can be carried on here with a better + prospect of settlement, than where the late attempt at a convention + which resulted so disastrously and was conducted so strangely was + had;' and what the secretary thus wrote he repeated in conversation + when we met, carefully making the transfer to Washington depend upon + our advantage here, from the presence of the Senate,--thus showing + that the pretext put forth to wound Mr. Motley was an afterthought." + +Again we may fairly ask how the government came to send a dispatch like +that of September 25, 1869, in which the views and expressions for which +Mr. Motley's conversation had been criticised were so nearly reproduced, +and with such emphasis that Mr. Motley says, in a letter to me, dated +April 8, 1871, "It not only covers all the ground which I ever took, but +goes far beyond it. No one has ever used stronger language to the British +government than is contained in that dispatch. . . . It is very able and +well worth your reading. Lord Clarendon called it to me 'Sumner's speech +over again.' It was thought by the English cabinet to have 'out-Sumnered +Sumner,' and now our government, thinking that every one in the United +States had forgotten the dispatch, makes believe that I was removed +because my sayings and doings in England were too much influenced by +Sumner!" Mr. Motley goes on to speak of the report that an offer of his +place in England was made to Sumner "to get him out of the way of San +Domingo." The facts concerning this offer are now sufficiently known to +the public. + +Here I must dismiss Mr. Fish's letter to Mr. Moran, having, as I trust, +sufficiently shown the spirit in which it was written and the strained +interpretations and manifest overstatements by which it attempts to make +out its case against Mr. Motley. I will not parade the two old women, +whose untimely and unseemly introduction into the dress-circle of +diplomacy was hardly to have been expected of the high official whose +name is at the bottom of this paper. They prove nothing, they disprove +nothing, they illustrate nothing--except that a statesman may forget +himself. Neither will I do more than barely allude to the unfortunate +reference to the death of Lord Clarendon as connected with Mr. Motley's +removal, so placidly disposed of by a sentence or two in the London +"Times" of January 24, 1871. I think we may consider ourselves ready for +the next witness. + +Mr. J. C. Bancroft Davis, Assistant Secretary of State under President +Grant and Secretary Fish, wrote a letter to the New York "Herald," under +the date of January 4, 1878, since reprinted as a pamphlet and entitled +"Mr. Sumner, the Alabama Claims and their Settlement." Mr. Sumner was +never successfully attacked when living,--except with a bludgeon,--and +his friends have more than sufficiently vindicated him since his death. +But Mr. Motley comes in for his share of animadversion in Mr. Davis's +letter. He has nothing of importance to add to Mr. Fish's criticisms on +the interview with Lord Clarendon. Only he brings out the head and front +of Mr. Motley's offending by italicizing three very brief passages from +his conversation at this interview; not discreetly, as it seems to me, +for they will not bear the strain that is put upon them. These are the +passages:-- + +1. "but that such, measures must always be taken with a full view of the +grave responsibilities assumed." 2. "and as being the fountain head of +the disasters which had been caused to the American people." 3. "as the +fruits of the proclamation." + +1. It is true that nothing was said of responsibility in Mr. Motley's +instructions. But the idea was necessarily involved in their statements. +For if, as Mr. Motley's instructions say, the right of a power "to define +its own relations," etc., when a civil conflict has arisen in another +state depends on its (the conflict's) having "attained a sufficient +complexity, magnitude, and completeness," inasmuch as that Power has to +judge whether it has or has not fulfilled these conditions, and is of +course liable to judge wrong, every such act of judgment must be attended +with grave responsibilities. The instructions say that "the necessity and +propriety of the original concession of belligerency by Great Britain at +the time it was made have been contested and are not admitted." It +follows beyond dispute that Great Britain may in this particular case +have incurred grave responsibilities; in fact, the whole negotiations +implied as much. Perhaps Mr. Motley need not have used the word +"responsibilities." But considering that the government itself said in +dispatch No. 70, September 25, 1869, "The President does not deny, on the +contrary he maintains, that every sovereign power decides for itself on +its responsibility whether or not it will, at a given time, accord the +status of belligerency," etc., it was hardly worth while to use italics +about Mr. Motley's employment of the same language as constituting a +grave cause of offence. + +2. Mr. Motley's expression, "as being the fountain head of the +disasters," is a conversational paraphrase of the words of his +instructions, "as it shows the beginning and the animus of that course of +conduct which resulted so disastrously," which is not "in precise +conformity" with his instructions, but is just such a variation as is to +be expected when one is talking with another and using the words that +suggest themselves at the moment, just as the familiar expression, "hung +up on a peg," probably suggested itself to Lord Clarendon. + +3. "The fruits of the proclamation" is so inconsiderable a variation on +the text of the instructions, "supplemented by acts causing direct +damage," that the secretary's hint about want of precise conformity seems +hardly to have been called for. + +It is important to notice this point in the instructions: With other +powers Mr. Motley was to take the position that the "recognition of the +insurgents' state of war" was made "no ground of complaint;" with Great +Britain that the cause of grievance was "not so much" placed upon the +issuance of this recognition as upon her conduct under, and subsequent +to, such recognition. + +There is no need of maintaining the exact fitness of every expression +used by Mr. Motley. But any candid person who will carefully read the +government's dispatch No. 70, dated September 25, 1869, will see that a +government holding such language could find nothing in Mr. Motley's +expressions in a conversation held at his first official interview to +visit with official capital punishment more than a year afterwards. If +Mr. Motley had, as it was pretended, followed Sumner, Mr. Fish had +"out-Sumnered" the Senator himself. + +Mr. Davis's pamphlet would hardly be complete without a mysterious letter +from an unnamed writer, whether a faithless friend, a disguised enemy, a +secret emissary, or an injudicious alarmist, we have no means of judging +for ourselves. The minister appears to have been watched by somebody in +London, as he was in Vienna. This somebody wrote a private letter in +which he expressed "fear and regret that Mr. Motley's bearing in his +social intercourse was throwing obstacles in the way of a future +settlement." The charge as mentioned in Mr. Davis's letter is hardly +entitled to our attention. Mr. Sumner considered it the work of an enemy, +and the recollection of the M'Crackin letter might well have made the +government cautious of listening to complaints of such a character. This +Somebody may have been one whom we should call Nobody. We cannot help +remembering how well 'Outis' served 'Oduxseus' of old, when he was +puzzled to extricate himself from an embarrassing position. 'Stat nominis +umbra' is a poor showing for authority to support an attack on a public +servant exposed to every form of open and insidious abuse from those who +are prejudiced against his person or his birthplace, who are jealous of +his success, envious of his position, hostile to his politics, dwarfed by +his reputation, or hate him by the divine right of idiosyncrasy, always +liable, too, to questioning comment from well-meaning friends who happen +to be suspicious or sensitive in their political or social relations. + +The reported sayings of General Grant and of Mr. Fish to the +correspondents who talked with them may be taken for what they are worth. +They sound naturally enough to have come from the speakers who are said +to have uttered them. I quote the most important part of the Edinburgh +letter, September 11, 1877, to the New York "Herald." These are the words +attributed to General Grant:-- + + "Mr. Motley was certainly a very able, very honest gentleman, fit to + hold any official position. But he knew long before he went out + that he would have to go. When I was making these appointments, Mr. + Sumner came to me and asked me to appoint Mr. Motley as minister to + the court of St. James. I told him I would, and did. Soon after + Mr. Sumner made that violent speech about the Alabama claims, and + the British government was greatly offended. Mr. Sumner was at the + time chairman of the committee on foreign affairs. Mr. Motley had + to be instructed. The instructions were prepared very carefully, + and after Governor Fish and I had gone over them for the last time I + wrote an addendum charging him that above all things he should + handle the subject of the Alabama claims with the greatest delicacy. + Mr. Motley instead of obeying his explicit instructions, + deliberately fell in line with Sumner, and thus added insult to the + previous injury. As soon as I heard of it I went over to the State + Department and told Governor Fish to dismiss Motley at once. I was + very angry indeed, and I have been sorry many a time since that I + did not stick to my first determination. Mr. Fish advised delay + because of Sumner's position in the Senate and attitude on the + treaty question. We did not want to stir him up just then. We + dispatched a note of severe censure to Motley at once and ordered + him to abstain from any further connection with that question. We + thereupon commenced negotiations with the British minister at + Washington, and the result was the joint high commission and the + Geneva award. I supposed Mr. Motley would be manly enough to resign + after that snub, but he kept on till he was removed. Mr. Sumner + promised me that he would vote for the treaty. But when it was + before the Senate he did all he could to beat it." + +General Grant talked again at Cairo, in Egypt. + + "Grant then referred to the statement published at an interview with + him in Scotland, and said the publication had some omissions and + errors. He had no ill-will towards Mr. Motley, who, like other + estimable men, made mistakes, and Motley made a mistake which made + him an improper person to hold office under me." + + "It is proper to say of me that I killed Motley, or that I made war + upon Sumner for not supporting the annexation of San Domingo. But + if I dare to answer that I removed Motley from the highest + considerations of duty as an executive; if I presume to say that he + made a mistake in his office which made him no longer useful to the + country; if Fish has the temerity to hint that Sumner's temper was + so unfortunate that business relations with him became impossible, + we are slandering the dead." + +"Nothing but Mortimer." Those who knew both men--the Ex-President and the +late Senator--would agree, I do not doubt, that they would not be the +most promising pair of human beings to make harmonious members of a +political happy family. "Cedant arma togae," the life-long sentiment of +Sumner, in conflict with "Stand fast and stand sure," the well-known +device of the clan of Grant, reminds one of the problem of an +irresistible force in collision with an insuperable resistance. But the +President says,--or is reported as saying,--"I may be blamed for my +opposition to Mr. Sumner's tactics, but I was not guided so much by +reason of his personal hatred of myself, as I was by a desire to protect +our national interests in diplomatic affairs." + +"It would be useless," says Mr. Davis in his letter to the "Herald," "to +enter into a controversy whether the President may or may not have been +influenced in the final determination of the moment for requesting +Motley's resignation by the feeling caused by Sumner's personal hostility +and abuse of himself." Unfortunately, this controversy had been entered +into, and the idleness of suggesting any relation of cause and effect +between Mr. Motley's dismissal and the irritation produced in the +President's mind by the rejection of the San Domingo treaty--which +rejection was mainly due to Motley's friend Sumner's opposition +--strongly insisted upon in a letter signed by the Secretary of State. +Too strongly, for here it was that he failed to remember what was due to +his office, to himself, and to the gentleman of whom he was writing; if +indeed it was the secretary's own hand which held the pen, and not +another's. + +We might as well leave out the wrath of Achilles from the Iliad, as the +anger of the President with Sumner from the story of Motley's dismissal. +The sad recital must always begin with M-----------. He was, he is +reported as saying, "very angry indeed" with Motley because he had, +fallen in line with Sumner. He couples them together in his conversation +as closely as Chang and Eng were coupled. The death of Lord Clarendon +would have covered up the coincidence between the rejection of the San +Domingo treaty and Mr. Motley's dismissal very neatly, but for the +inexorable facts about its date, as revealed by the London "Times." It +betrays itself as an afterthought, and its failure as a defence reminds +us too nearly of the trial in which Mr. Webster said suicide is +confession. + +It is not strange that the spurs of the man who had so lately got out of +the saddle should catch in the scholastic robe of the man on the floor of +the Senate. But we should not have looked for any such antagonism between +the Secretary of State and the envoy to Great Britain. On the contrary, +they must have had many sympathies, and it must have cost the secretary +pain, as he said it did, to be forced to communicate with Mr. Moran +instead of with Mr. Motley. + +He, too, was inquired of by one of the emissaries of the American Unholy +Inquisition. His evidence is thus reported: + + "The reason for Mr. Motley's removal was found in considerations of + state. He misrepresented the government on the Alabama question, + especially in the two speeches made by him before his arrival at his + post." + +These must be the two speeches made to the American and the Liverpool +chambers of commerce. If there is anything in these short addresses +beyond those civil generalities which the occasion called out, I have +failed to find it. If it was in these that the reason of Mr. Motley's +removal was to be looked for, it is singular that they are not mentioned +in the secretary's letter to Mr. Moran, or by Mr. Davis in his letter to +the New York "Herald." They must have been as unsuccessful as myself in +the search after anything in these speeches which could be construed into +misinterpretation of the government on the Alabama question. + +We may much more readily accept "considerations of state" as a reason for +Mr. Motley's removal. Considerations of state have never yet failed the +axe or the bowstring when a reason for the use of those convenient +implements was wanted, and they are quite equal to every emergency which +can arise in a republican autocracy. But for the very reason that a +minister is absolutely in the power of his government, the manner in +which that power is used is always open to the scrutiny, and, if it has +been misused, to the condemnation, of a tribunal higher than itself; a +court that never goes out of office, and which no personal feelings, no +lapse of time, can silence. + +The ostensible grounds on which Mr. Motley was recalled are plainly +insufficient to account for the action of the government. If it was in +great measure a manifestation of personal feeling on the part of the high +officials by whom and through whom the act was accomplished, it was a +wrong which can never be repaired and never sufficiently regretted. + +Stung by the slanderous report of an anonymous eavesdropper to whom the +government of the day was not ashamed to listen, he had quitted Vienna, +too hastily, it may be, but wounded, indignant, feeling that he had been +unworthily treated. The sudden recall from London, on no pretext whatever +but an obsolete and overstated incident which had ceased to have any +importance, was under these circumstances a deadly blow. It fell upon +"the new-healed wound of malice," and though he would not own it, and +bore up against it, it was a shock from which he never fully recovered. + +"I hope I am one of those," he writes to me from the Hague, in 1872, "who +'fortune's buffets and rewards can take with equal thanks.' I am quite +aware that I have had far more than I deserve of political honors, and +they might have had my post as a voluntary gift on my part had they +remembered that I was an honorable man, and not treated me as a detected +criminal deserves to be dealt with." + +Mr. Sumner naturally felt very deeply what he considered the great wrong +done to his friend. He says:-- + + "How little Mr. Motley merited anything but respect and courtesy + from the secretary is attested by all who know his eminent position + in London, and the service he rendered to his country. Already the + London press, usually slow to praise Americans when strenuous for + their country, has furnished its voluntary testimony. The 'Daily + News' of August 16, 1870, spoke of the insulted minister in these + terms:-- + + "'We are violating no confidence in saying that all the hopes of Mr. + Motley's official residence in England have been amply fulfilled, + and that the announcement of his unexpected and unexplained recall + was received with extreme astonishment and unfeigned regret. The + vacancy he leaves cannot possibly be filled by a minister more + sensitive to the honor of his government, more attentive to the + interests of his country, and more capable of uniting the most + vigorous performance of his public duties with the high-bred + courtesy and conciliatory tact and temper that make those duties + easy and successful. Mr. Motley's successor will find his mission + wonderfully facilitated by the firmness and discretion that have + presided over the conduct of American affairs in this country during + too brief a term, too suddenly and unaccountably concluded.'" + +No man can escape being found fault with when it is necessary to make out +a case against him. A diplomatist is watched by the sharpest eyes and +commented on by the most merciless tongues. The best and wisest has his +defects, and sometimes they would seem to be very grave ones if brought +up against him in the form of accusation. Take these two portraits, for +instance, as drawn by John Quincy Adams. The first is that of Stratford +Canning, afterwards Lord Stratford de Redcliffe:-- + + "He is to depart to-morrow. I shall probably see him no more. He + is a proud, high-tempered Englishman, of good but not extraordinary + parts; stubborn and punctilious, with a disposition to be + overbearing, which I have often been compelled to check in its own + way. He is, of all the foreign ministers with whom I have had + occasion to treat, the man who has most severely tried my temper. + Yet he has been long in the diplomatic career, and treated with + governments of the most opposite characters. He has, however, a + great respect for his word, and there is nothing false about him. + This is an excellent quality for a negotiator. Mr. Canning is a man + of forms, studious of courtesy, and tenacious of private morals. As + a diplomatic man, his great want is suppleness, and his great virtue + is sincerity." + +The second portrait is that of the French minister, Hyde de Neuville:-- + + "No foreign minister who ever resided here has been so universally + esteemed and beloved, nor have I ever been in political relations + with any foreign statesman of whose moral qualities I have formed so + good an opinion, with the exception of Count Romanzoff. He has not + sufficient command of his temper, is quick, irritable, sometimes + punctilious, occasionally indiscreet in his discourse, and tainted + with Royalist and Bourbon prejudices. But he has strong sentiments + of honor, justice, truth, and even liberty. His flurries of temper + pass off as quickly as they rise. He is neither profound nor + sublime nor brilliant; but a man of strong and good feelings, with + the experience of many vicissitudes of fortune, a good but common + understanding, and good intentions biassed by party feelings, + occasional interests, and personal affections." + +It means very little to say that a man has some human imperfections, or +that a public servant might have done some things better. But when a +questionable cause is to be justified, the victim's excellences are +looked at with the eyes of Liliput and his failings with those of +Brobdingnag. + +The recall of a foreign minister for alleged misconduct in office is a +kind of capital punishment. It is the nearest approach to the Sultan's +bowstring which is permitted to the chief magistrate of our Republic. A +general can do nothing under martial law more peremptory than a President +can do with regard to the public functionary whom he has appointed with +the advice and consent of the Senate, but whom he can officially degrade +and disgrace at his own pleasure for insufficient cause or for none at +all. Like the centurion of Scripture, he says Go, and he goeth. The +nation's representative is less secure in his tenure of office than his +own servant, to whom he must give warning of his impending dismissal. + +"A breath unmakes him as a breath has made." + +The chief magistrate's responsibility to duty, to the fellow-citizen at +his mercy, to his countrymen, to mankind, is in proportion to his power. +His prime minister, the agent of his edicts, should feel bound to +withstand him if he seeks to gratify a personal feeling under the plea of +public policy, unless the minister, like the slaves of the harem, is to +find his qualification for office in leaving his manhood behind him. + +The two successive administrations, which treated Mr. Motley in a manner +unworthy of their position and cruel, if not fatal to him, have been +heard, directly or through their advocates. I have attempted to show that +the defence set up for their action is anything but satisfactory. A later +generation will sit in judgment upon the evidence more calmly than our +own. It is not for a friend, like the writer, to anticipate its decision, +but unless the reasons alleged to justify his treatment, and which have +so much the air of afterthoughts, shall seem stronger to that future +tribunal than they do to him, the verdict will be that Mr. Motley was +twice sacrificed to personal feelings which should never have been +cherished by the heads of the government, and should never have been +countenanced by their chief advisers. + + + + + + +JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY. + +A MEMOIR + +By Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. + + +Volume III. + + + + +XXII. + +1874. AEt. 60. +"LIFE OF JOHN OF BARNEVELD."--CRITICISMS.--GROEN VAN PRINSTERER. + +The full title of Mr. Motley's next and last work is "The Life and Death +of John of Barneveld, Advocate of Holland; with a View of the Primary +Causes and Movements of the Thirty Years' War." + +In point of fact this work is a history rather than a biography. It is an +interlude, a pause between the acts which were to fill out the complete +plan of the "Eighty Years' Tragedy," and of which the last act, the +Thirty Years' War, remains unwritten. The "Life of Barneveld" was +received as a fitting and worthy continuation of the series of +intellectual labor in which he was engaged. I will quote but two general +expressions of approval from the two best known British critical reviews. +In connection with his previous works, it forms, says "The London +Quarterly," "a fine and continuous story, of which the writer and the +nation celebrated by him have equal reason to be proud; a narrative which +will remain a prominent ornament of American genius, while it has +permanently enriched English literature on this as well as on the other +side of the Atlantic." + +"The Edinburgh Review" speaks no less warmly: "We can hardly give too +much appreciation to that subtile alchemy of the brain which has enabled +him to produce out of dull, crabbed, and often illegible state papers, +the vivid, graphic, and sparkling narrative which he has given to the +world." + +In a literary point of view, M. Groen van Prinsterer, whose elaborate +work has been already referred to, speaks of it as perhaps the most +classical of Motley's productions, but it is upon this work that the +force of his own and other Dutch criticisms has been chiefly expended. + +The key to this biographical history or historical biography may be found +in a few sentences from its opening chapter. + + "There have been few men at any period whose lives have been more + closely identical than his [Barneveld's] with a national history. + There have been few great men in any history whose names have become + less familiar to the world, and lived less in the mouths of + posterity. Yet there can be no doubt that if William the Silent was + the founder of the independence of the United Provinces, Barneveld + was the founder of the Commonwealth itself. . . . + + "Had that country of which he was so long the first citizen + maintained until our own day the same proportional position among + the empires of Christendom as it held in the seventeenth century, + the name of John of Barneveld would have perhaps been as familiar to + all men as it is at this moment to nearly every inhabitant of the + Netherlands. Even now political passion is almost as ready to flame + forth, either in ardent affection or enthusiastic hatred, as if two + centuries and a half had not elapsed since his death. His name is + so typical of a party, a polity, and a faith, so indelibly + associated with a great historical cataclysm, as to render it + difficult even for the grave, the conscientious, the learned, the + patriotic, of his own compatriots to speak of him with absolute + impartiality. + + "A foreigner who loves and admires all that is great and noble in + the history of that famous republic, and can have no hereditary bias + as to its ecclesiastical or political theories, may at least attempt + the task with comparative coldness, although conscious of inability + to do thorough justice to a most complex subject." + +With all Mr. Motley's efforts to be impartial, to which even his sternest +critics bear witness, he could not help becoming a partisan of the cause +which for him was that of religious liberty and progress, as against the +accepted formula of an old ecclesiastical organization. For the quarrel +which came near being a civil war, which convulsed the state, and cost +Barneveld his head, had its origin in a difference on certain points, and +more especially on a single point, of religious doctrine. + +As a great river may be traced back until its fountainhead is found in a +thread of water streaming from a cleft in the rocks, so a great national +movement may sometimes be followed until its starting-point is found in +the cell of a monk or the studies of a pair of wrangling professors. + +The religious quarrel of the Dutchmen in the seventeenth century reminds +us in some points of the strife between two parties in our own New +England, sometimes arraying the "church" on one side against the +"parish," or the general body of worshippers, on the other. The portraits +of Gomarus, the great orthodox champion, and Arminius, the head and front +of the "liberal theology" of his day, as given in the little old quarto +of Meursius, recall two ministerial types of countenance familiar to +those who remember the earlier years of our century. + +Under the name of "Remonstrants" and "Contra-Remonstrants,"--Arminians +and old-fashioned Calvinists, as we should say,--the adherents of the two +Leyden professors disputed the right to the possession of the churches, +and the claim to be considered as representing the national religion. Of +the seven United Provinces, two, Holland and Utrecht, were prevailingly +Arminian, and the other five Calvinistic. Barneveld, who, under the title +of Advocate, represented the province of Holland, the most important of +them all, claimed for each province a right to determine its own state +religion. Maurice the Stadholder, son of William the Silent, the military +chief of the republic, claimed the right for the States-General. 'Cujus +regio ejus religio' was then the accepted public doctrine of Protestant +nations. Thus the provincial and the general governments were brought +into conflict by their creeds, and the question whether the republic was +a confederation or a nation, the same question which has been practically +raised, and for the time at least settled, in our own republic, was in +some way to be decided. After various disturbances and acts of violence +by both parties, Maurice, representing the States-General, pronounced for +the Calvinists or Contra-Remonstrants, and took possession of one of the +great churches, as an assertion of his authority. Barneveld, representing +the Arminian or Remonstrant provinces, levied a body of mercenary +soldiers in several of the cities. These were disbanded by Maurice, and +afterwards by an act of the States-General. Barneveld was apprehended, +imprisoned, and executed, after an examination which was in no proper +sense a trial. Grotius, who was on the Arminian side and involved in the +inculpated proceedings, was also arrested and imprisoned. His escape, by +a stratagem successfully repeated by a slave in our own times, may +challenge comparison for its romantic interest with any chapter of +fiction. How his wife packed him into the chest supposed to contain the +folios of the great oriental scholar Erpenius, how the soldiers wondered +at its weight and questioned whether it did not hold an Arminian, how the +servant-maid, Elsje van Houwening, quick-witted as Morgiana of the "Forty +Thieves," parried their questions and convoyed her master safely to the +friendly place of refuge,--all this must be read in the vivid narrative +of the author. + +The questions involved were political, local, personal, and above all +religious. Here is the picture which Motley draws of the religious +quarrel as it divided the people:-- + + "In burghers' mansions, peasants' cottages, mechanics' back-parlors; + on board herring-smacks, canal-boats, and East Indiamen; in shops, + counting-rooms, farm-yards, guard-rooms, alehouses; on the exchange, + in the tennis court, on the mall; at banquets, at burials, + christenings, or bridals; wherever and whenever human creatures met + each other, there was ever to be found the fierce wrangle of + Remonstrant and Contra-Remonstrant, the hissing of red-hot + theological rhetoric, the pelting of hostile texts. The + blacksmith's iron cooled on the anvil, the tinker dropped a kettle + half mended, the broker left a bargain unclinched, the Scheveningen + fisherman in his wooden shoes forgot the cracks in his pinkie, while + each paused to hold high converse with friend or foe on fate, free- + will, or absolute foreknowledge; losing himself in wandering mazes + whence there was no issue. Province against province, city against + city, family against family; it was one vast scene of bickering, + denunciation, heart-burnings, mutual excommunication and hatred." + +The religious grounds of the quarrel which set these seventeenth-century +Dutchmen to cutting each other's throats were to be looked for in the +"Five Points" of the Arminians as arrayed against the "Seven Points" of +the Gomarites, or Contra-Remonstrants. The most important of the +differences which were to be settled by fratricide seem to have been +these:-- + +According to the Five Points, "God has from eternity resolved to choose +to eternal life those who through his grace believe in Jesus Christ," +etc. According to the Seven Points, "God in his election has not looked +at the belief and the repentance of the elect," etc. According to the +Five Points, all good deeds must be ascribed to God's grace in Christ, +but it does not work irresistibly. The language of the Seven Points +implies that the elect cannot resist God's eternal and unchangeable +design to give them faith and steadfastness, and that they can never +wholly and for always lose the true faith. The language of the Five +Points is unsettled as to the last proposition, but it was afterwards +maintained by the Remonstrant party that a true believer could, through +his own fault, fall away from God and lose faith. + +It must be remembered that these religious questions had an immediate +connection with politics. Independently of the conflict of jurisdiction, +in which they involved the parties to the two different creeds, it was +believed or pretended that the new doctrines of the Remonstrants led +towards Romanism, and were allied with designs which threatened the +independence of the country. "There are two factions in the land," said +Maurice, "that of Orange and that of Spain, and the two chiefs of the +Spanish faction are those political and priestly Arminians, Uytenbogaert +and Oldenbarneveld." + +The heads of the two religious and political parties were in such +hereditary, long-continued, and intimate relations up to the time when +one signed the other's death-warrant, that it was impossible to write the +life of one without also writing that of the other. For his biographer +John of Barneveld is the true patriot, the martyr, whose cause was that +of religious and political freedom. For him Maurice is the ambitious +soldier who hated his political rival, and never rested until this rival +was brought to the scaffold. + +The questions which agitated men's minds two centuries and a half ago are +not dead yet in the country where they produced such estrangement, +violence, and wrong. No stranger could take them up without encountering +hostile criticism from one party or the other. It may be and has been +conceded that Mr. Motley writes as a partisan,--a partisan of freedom in +politics and religion, as he understands freedom. This secures him the +antagonism of one class of critics. But these critics are themselves +partisans, and themselves open to the cross-fire of their antagonists. M. +Groen van Prinsterer, "the learned and distinguished" editor of the +"Archives et Correspondance" of the Orange and Nassau family, published a +considerable volume, before referred to, in which many of Motley's views +are strongly controverted. But he himself is far from being in accord +with "that eminent scholar," M. Bakhuyzen van den Brink, whose name, he +says, is celebrated enough to need no comment, or with M. Fruin, of whose +impartiality and erudition he himself speaks in the strongest terms. The +ground upon which he is attacked is thus stated in his own words:-- + +"People have often pretended to find in my writings the deplorable +influence of an extreme Calvinism. The Puritans of the seventeenth +century are my fellow-religionists. I am a sectarian and not an +historian." + +It is plain enough to any impartial reader that there are at least +plausible grounds for this accusation against Mr. Motley's critic. And on +a careful examination of the formidable volume, it becomes obvious that +Mr. Motley has presented a view of the events and the personages of the +stormy epoch with which he is dealing, which leaves a battle-ground yet +to be fought over by those who come after him. The dispute is not and +cannot be settled. + +The end of all religious discussion has come when one of the parties +claims that it is thinking or acting under immediate Divine guidance. "It +is God's affair, and his honor is touched," says William Lewis to Prince +Maurice. Mr. Motley's critic is not less confident in claiming the +Almighty as on the side of his own views. Let him state his own ground of +departure:-- + + "To show the difference, let me rather say the contrast, between the + point of view of Mr. Motley and my own, between the Unitarian and + the Evangelical belief. I am issue of CALVIN, child of the + Awakening (reveil). Faithful to the device of the Reformers: + Justification by faith alone, and the Word of God endures eternally. + I consider history from the point of view of Merle d'Aubigne, + Chalmers, Guizot. I desire to be disciple and witness of our Lord + and Saviour, Jesus Christ." + +He is therefore of necessity antagonistic to a writer whom he describes +in such words as these:-- + + "Mr. Motley is liberal and rationalist. + + "He becomes, in attacking the principle of the Reformation, the + passionate opponent of the Puritans and of Maurice, the ardent + apologist of Barnevelt and the Arminians. + + "It is understood, and he makes no mystery of it, that he inclines + towards the vague and undecided doctrine of the Unitarians." + +What M. Groen's idea of Unitarians is may be gathered from the statement +about them which he gets from a letter of De Tocqueville. + + "They are pure deists; they talk about the Bible, because they do + not wish to shock too severely public opinion, which is prevailingly + Christian. They have a service on Sundays; I have been there. At + it they read verses from Dryden or other English poets on the + existence of God and the immortality of the soul. They deliver a + discourse on some point of morality, and all is said." + +In point of fact the wave of protest which stormed the dikes of Dutch +orthodoxy in the seventeenth century stole gently through the bars of New +England Puritanism in the eighteenth. + +"Though the large number," says Mr. Bancroft, "still acknowledged the +fixedness of the divine decrees, and the resistless certainty from all +eternity of election and of reprobation, there were not wanting, even +among the clergy, some who had modified the sternness of the ancient +doctrine by making the self-direction of the active powers of man with +freedom of inquiry and private judgment the central idea of a protest +against Calvinism." + +Protestantism, cut loose from an infallible church, and drifting with +currents it cannot resist, wakes up once or oftener in every century, to +find itself in a new locality. Then it rubs its eyes and wonders whether +it has found its harbor or only lost its anchor. There is no end to its +disputes, for it has nothing but a fallible vote as authority for its +oracles, and these appeal only to fallible interpreters. + +It is as hard to contend in argument against "the oligarchy of heaven," +as Motley calls the Calvinistic party, as it was formerly to strive with +them in arms. + +To this "aristocracy of God's elect" belonged the party which framed the +declaration of the Synod of Dort; the party which under the forms of +justice shed the blood of the great statesman who had served his country +so long and so well. To this chosen body belonged the late venerable and +truly excellent as well as learned M. Groen van Prinsterer, and he +exercised the usual right of examining in the light of his privileged +position the views of a "liberal" and "rationalist" writer who goes to +meeting on Sunday to hear verses from Dryden. This does not diminish his +claim for a fair reading of the "intimate correspondence," which he +considers Mr. Motley has not duly taken into account, and of the other +letters to be found printed in his somewhat disjointed and fragmentary +volume. + +This "intimate correspondence" shows Maurice the Stadholder indifferent +and lax in internal administration and as being constantly advised and +urged by his relative Count William of Nassau. This need of constant +urging extends to religious as well as other matters, and is inconsistent +with M. Groen van Prinsterer's assertion that the question was for +Maurice above all religious, and for Barneveld above all political. +Whether its negative evidence can be considered as neutralizing that +which is adduced by Mr. Motley to show the Stadholder's hatred of the +Advocate may be left to the reader who has just risen from the account of +the mock trial and the swift execution of the great and venerable +statesman. The formal entry on the record upon the day of his "judicial +murder" is singularly solemn and impressive:-- + + "Monday, 13th May, 1619. To-day was executed with the sword here in + the Hague, on a scaffold thereto erected in the Binnenhof before the + steps of the great hall, Mr. John of Barneveld, in his life Knight, + Lord of Berkel, Rodenrys, etc., Advocate of Holland and West + Friesland, for reasons expressed in the sentence and otherwise, with + confiscation of his property, after he had served the state thirty- + three years two months and five days, since 8th March, 1586; a man + of great activity, business, memory, and wisdom,--yea, extraordinary + in every respect. He that stands let him see that he does not + fall." + +Maurice gave an account of the execution of Barneveld to Count William +Lewis on the same day in a note "painfully brief and dry." + +Most authors write their own biography consciously or unconsciously. We +have seen Mr. Motley portraying much of himself, his course of life and +his future, as he would have had it, in his first story. In this, his +last work, it is impossible not to read much of his own external and +internal personal history told under other names and with different +accessories. The parallelism often accidentally or intentionally passes +into divergence. He would not have had it too close if he could, but +there are various passages in which it is plain enough that he is telling +his own story. + +Mr. Motley was a diplomatist, and he writes of other diplomatists, and +one in particular, with most significant detail. It need not be supposed +that he intends the "arch intriguer" Aerssens to stand for himself, or +that he would have endured being thought to identify himself with the man +of whose "almost devilish acts" he speaks so freely. But the sagacious +reader--and he need not be very sharp-sighted--will very certainly see +something more than a mere historical significance in some of the +passages which I shall cite for him to reflect upon. Mr. Motley's +standard of an ambassador's accomplishments may be judged from the +following passage:-- + + "That those ministers [those of the Republic] were second to the + representatives of no other European state in capacity and + accomplishment was a fact well known to all who had dealings with + them, for the states required in their diplomatic representatives + knowledge of history and international law, modern languages, and + the classics, as well as familiarity with political customs and + social courtesies; the breeding of gentlemen, in short, and the + accomplishments of scholars." + +The story of the troubles of Aerssens, the ambassador of the United +Provinces at Paris, must be given at some length, and will repay careful +reading. + + "Francis Aerssens . . . continued to be the Dutch ambassador + after the murder of Henry IV. . . . He was beyond doubt one of + the ablest diplomatists in Europe. Versed in many languages, a + classical student, familiar with history and international law, a + man of the world and familiar with its usages, accustomed to + associate with dignity and tact on friendliest terms with + sovereigns, eminent statesmen, and men of letters; endowed with a + facile tongue, a fluent pen, and an eye and ear of singular + acuteness and delicacy; distinguished for unflagging industry and + singular aptitude for secret and intricate affairs;--he had by the + exercise of these various qualities during a period of nearly twenty + years at the court of Henry the Great been able to render + inestimable services to the Republic which he represented. + + "He had enjoyed the intimacy and even the confidence of Henry IV., + so far as any man could be said to possess that monarch's + confidence, and his friendly relations and familiar access to the + king gave him political advantages superior to those of any of his + colleagues at the same court. + + "Acting entirely and faithfully according to the instructions of the + Advocate of Holland, he always gratefully and copiously acknowledged + the privilege of being guided and sustained in the difficult paths + he had to traverse by so powerful and active an intellect. I have + seldom alluded in terms to the instructions and dispatches of the + chief, but every position, negotiation, and opinion of the envoy + --and the reader has seen many of them is pervaded by their spirit. + + "It had become a question whether he was to remain at his post or + return. It was doubtful whether he wished to be relieved of his + embassy or not. The States of Holland voted 'to leave it to his + candid opinion if in his free conscience he thinks he can serve the + public any longer. If yes, he may keep his office one year more. + If no, he may take leave and come home.' + + "Surely the States, under the guidance of the Advocate, had thus + acted with consummate courtesy towards a diplomatist whose position, + from no apparent fault of his own, but by the force of + circumstances,--and rather to his credit than otherwise, + --was gravely compromised." + +The Queen, Mary de' Medici, had a talk with him, got angry, "became very +red in the face," and wanted to be rid of him. + + "Nor was the envoy at first desirous of remaining. . . . + Nevertheless, he yielded reluctantly to Barneveld's request that he + should, for the time at least, remain at his post. Later on, as the + intrigues against him began to unfold themselves, and his faithful + services were made use of at home to blacken his character and + procure his removal, he refused to resign, as to do so would be to + play into the hands of his enemies, and, by inference at least, to + accuse himself of infidelity to his trust. . . . + + "It is no wonder that the ambassador was galled to the quick by the + outrage which those concerned in the government were seeking to put + upon him. How could an honest man fail to be overwhelmed with rage + and anguish at being dishonored before the world by his masters for + scrupulously doing his duty, and for maintaining the rights and + dignity of his own country? He knew that the charges were but + pretexts, that the motives of his enemies were as base as the + intrigues themselves, but he also knew that the world usually sides + with the government against the individual, and that a man's + reputation is rarely strong enough to maintain itself unsullied in a + foreign land when his own government stretches forth its hand, not + to shield, but to stab him. . . . + + "'I know,' he said, that this plot has been woven partly here in + Holland and partly here by good correspondence in order to drive me + from my post. + + "'But as I have discovered this accurately, I have resolved to offer + to my masters the continuance of my very humble service for such + time and under such conditions as they may think good to prescribe. + I prefer forcing my natural and private inclinations to giving an + opportunity for the ministers of this kingdom to discredit us, and + to my enemies to succeed in injuring me, and by fraud and malice to + force me from my post. . . . I am truly sorry, being ready to + retire, wishing to have an honorable testimony in recompense of my + labors, that one is in such hurry to take advantage of my fall. . + . . What envoy will ever dare to speak with vigor if he is not + sustained by the government at home? . . . My enemies have + misrepresented my actions, and my language as passionate, + exaggerated, mischievous, but I have no passion except for the + service of my superiors.' + + "Barneveld, from well-considered motives of public policy, was + favoring his honorable recall. But he allowed a decorous interval + of more than three years to elapse in which to terminate his + affairs, and to take a deliberate departure from that French embassy + to which the Advocate had originally promoted him, and in which + there had been so many years of mutual benefit and confidence + between the two statesmen. He used no underhand means. He did not + abuse the power of the States-General which he wielded to cast him + suddenly and brutally from the distinguished post which he occupied, + and so to attempt to dishonor him before the world. Nothing could + be more respectful and conciliatory than the attitude of the + government from first to last towards this distinguished + functionary. The Republic respected itself too much to deal with + honorable agents whose services it felt obliged to dispense with as + with vulgar malefactors who had been detected in crime. . . . + + "This work aims at being a political study. I would attempt to + exemplify the influence of individual humors and passions--some of + them among the highest, and others certainly the basest that agitate + humanity--upon the march of great events, upon general historical + results at certain epochs, and upon the destiny of eminent + personages." + +Here are two suggestive portraits:-- + + "The Advocate, while acting only in the name of a slender + confederacy, was in truth, so long as he held his place, the prime + minister of European Protestantism. There was none other to rival + him, few to comprehend him, fewer still to sustain him. As Prince + Maurice was at that time the great soldier of Protestantism, without + clearly scanning the grandeur of the field in which he was a chief + actor, or foreseeing the vastness of its future, so the Advocate was + its statesman and its prophet. Could the two have worked together + as harmoniously as they had done at an earlier day, it would have + been a blessing for the common weal of Europe. But, alas! the evil + genius of jealousy, which so often forbids cordial relations between + soldier and statesman, already stood shrouded in the distance, + darkly menacing the strenuous patriot, who was wearing his life out + in exertions for what he deemed the true cause of progress and + humanity. . . . + + "All history shows that the brilliant soldier of a republic is apt + to have the advantage, in a struggle for popular affection and + popular applause, over the statesman, however consummate. . . . + The great battles and sieges of the prince had been on a world's + theatre, had enchained the attention of Christendom, and on their + issue had frequently depended, or seemed to depend, the very + existence of the nation. The labors of the statesman, on the + contrary, had been comparatively secret. His noble orations and + arguments had been spoken with closed doors to assemblies of + colleagues, rather envoys than senators, . . while his vast labors + in directing both the internal administration and especially the + foreign affairs of the commonwealth had been by their very nature + as secret as they were perpetual and enormous." + +The reader of the "Life of Barneveld" must judge for himself whether in +these and similar passages the historian was thinking solely of Maurice, +the great military leader, of Barneveld, the great statesman, and of +Aerssens, the recalled ambassador. He will certainly find that there were +"burning questions" for ministers to handle then as now, and recognize in +"that visible atmosphere of power the poison of which it is so difficult +to resist" a respiratory medium as well known to the nineteenth as to the +seventeenth century. + + + + +XXIII. + +1874-1877. AEt. 60-63. + +DEATH OF MRS. MOTLEY.--LAST VISIT TO AMERICA.--ILLNESS AND DEATH.-LADY +HARCOURT'S COMMUNICATION. + +On the last day of 1874, the beloved wife, whose health had for some +years been failing, was taken from him by death. She had been the pride +of his happier years, the stay and solace of those which had so tried his +sensitive spirit. The blow found him already weakened by mental suffering +and bodily infirmity, and he never recovered from it. Mr. Motley's last +visit to America was in the summer and autumn of 1875. During several +weeks which he passed at Nahant, a seaside resort near Boston, I saw him +almost daily. He walked feebly and with some little difficulty, and +complained of a feeling of great weight in the right arm, which made +writing laborious. His handwriting had not betrayed any very obvious +change, so far as I had noticed in his letters. His features and speech +were without any paralytic character. His mind was clear except when, as +on one or two occasions, he complained of some confused feeling, and +walked a few minutes in the open air to compose himself. His thoughts +were always tending to revert to the almost worshipped companion from +whom death had parted him a few months before. Yet he could often be led +away to other topics, and in talking of them could be betrayed into +momentary cheerfulness of manner. His long-enduring and all-pervading +grief was not more a tribute to the virtues and graces of her whom he +mourned than an evidence of the deeply affectionate nature which in other +relations endeared him to so many whose friendship was a title to love +and honor. + +I have now the privilege of once more recurring to the narrative of Mr. +Motley's daughter, Lady Harcourt. + + "The harassing work and mental distress of this time [after the + recall from England], acting on an acutely nervous organization, + began the process of undermining his constitution, of which we were + so soon to see the results. It was not the least courageous act of + his life, that, smarting under a fresh wound, tired and unhappy, he + set his face immediately towards the accomplishment of fresh + literary labor. After my sister's marriage in January he went to + the Hague to begin his researches in the archives for John of + Barneveld. The Queen of the Netherlands had made ready a house + for us, and personally superintended every preparation for his + reception. We remained there until the spring, and then removed to + a house more immediately in the town, a charming old-fashioned + mansion, once lived in by John de Witt, where he had a large library + and every domestic comfort during the year of his sojourn. The + incessant literary labor in an enervating climate with enfeebled + health may have prepared the way for the first break in his + constitution, which was to show itself soon after. There were many + compensations in the life about him. He enjoyed the privilege of + constant companionship with one of the warmest hearts and finest + intellects which I have ever known in a woman,--the 'ame d'elite' + which has passed beyond this earth. The gracious sentiment with + which the Queen sought to express her sense of what Holland owed him + would have been deeply felt even had her personal friendship been + less dear to us all. From the King, the society of the Hague, and + the diplomatic circle we had many marks of kindness. Once or twice + I made short journeys with him for change of air to Amsterdam, to + look for the portraits of John of Barneveld and his wife; to + Bohemia, where, with the lingering hope of occupying himself with + the Thirty Years' War, he looked carefully at the scene of + Wallenstein's death near Prague, and later to Varzin in Pomerania + for a week with Prince Bismarck, after the great events of the + Franco-German war. In the autumn of 1872 we moved to England, + partly because it was evident that his health and my mother's + required a change; partly for private reasons to be near my sister + and her children. The day after our arrival at Bournemouth occurred + the rupture of a vessel on the lungs, without any apparently + sufficient cause. He recovered enough to revise and complete his + manuscript, and we thought him better, when at the end of July, in + London, he was struck down by the first attack of the head, which + robbed him of all after power of work, although the intellect + remained untouched. Sir William Gull sent him to Cannes for the + winter, where he was seized with a violent internal inflammation, + in which I suppose there was again the indication of the lesion of + blood-vessels. I am nearing the shadow now,--the time of which I + can hardly bear to write. You know the terrible sorrow which + crushed him on the last day of 1874,--the grief which broke his + heart and from which he never rallied. From that day it seems to me + that his life may be summed up in the two words,--patient waiting. + Never for one hour did her spirit leave him, and he strove to follow + its leading for the short and evil days left and the hope of the + life beyond. I think I have never watched quietly and reverently + the traces of one personal character remaining so strongly impressed + on another nature. With herself--depreciation and unselfishness she + would have been the last to believe how much of him was in her very + existence; nor could we have realized it until the parting came. + Henceforward, with the mind still there, but with the machinery + necessary to set it in motion disturbed and shattered, he could but + try to create small occupations with which to fill the hours of a + life which was only valued for his children's sake. Kind and loving + friends in England and America soothed the passage, and our + gratitude for so many gracious acts is deep and true. His love for + children, always a strong feeling, was gratified by the constant + presence of my sister's babies, the eldest, a little girl who bore + my mother's name, and had been her idol, being the companion of many + hours and his best comforter. At the end the blow came swiftly and + suddenly, as he would have wished it. It was a terrible shock to us + who had vainly hoped to keep him a few years longer, but at least he + was spared what he had dreaded with a great dread, a gradual failure + of mental or bodily power. The mind was never clouded, the + affections never weakened, and after a few hours of unconscious + physical struggle he lay at rest, his face beautiful and calm, + without a trace of suffering or illness. Once or twice he said, 'It + has come, it has come,' and there were a few broken words before + consciousness fled, but there was little time for messages or leave- + taking. By a strange coincidence his life ended near the town of + Dorchester, in the mother country, as if the last hour brought with + it a reminiscence of his birthplace, and of his own dearly loved + mother. By his own wish only the dates of his birth and death + appear upon his gravestone, with the text chosen by himself, 'In God + is light, and in him is no darkness at all.'" + + + + +XXIV. + + + + +CONCLUSION.--HIS CHARACTER.--HIS LABORS.--HIS REWARD. + +In closing this restricted and imperfect record of a life which merits, +and in due time will, I trust, receive an ampler tribute, I cannot +refrain from adding a few thoughts which naturally suggest themselves, +and some of which may seem quite unnecessary to the reader who has +followed the story of the historian and diplomatist's brilliant and +eventful career. + +Mr. Motley came of a parentage which promised the gifts of mind and body +very generally to be accounted for, in a measure at least, wherever we +find them, by the blood of one or both of the parents. They gave him +special attractions and laid him open to not a few temptations. Too many +young men born to shine in social life, to sparkle, it may be, in +conversation, perhaps in the lighter walks of literature, become +agreeable idlers, self-indulgent, frivolous, incapable of large designs +or sustained effort, lose every aspiration and forget every ideal. Our +gilded youth want such examples as this of Motley, not a solitary, but a +conspicuous one, to teach them how much better is the restlessness of a +noble ambition than the narcotized stupor of club-life or the vapid +amusement of a dressed-up intercourse which too often requires a +questionable flavor of forbidden license to render it endurable to +persons of vivacious character and temperament. + +It would seem difficult for a man so flattered from his earliest days to +be modest in his self-estimate; but Motley was never satisfied with +himself. He was impulsive, and was occasionally, I have heard it said, +over excited, when his prejudices were roughly handled. In all that +related to the questions involved in our civil war, he was, no doubt, +very sensitive. He had heard so much that exasperated him in the foreign +society which he had expected to be in full sympathy with the cause of +liberty as against slavery, that he might be excused if he showed +impatience when he met with similar sentiments among his own countrymen. +He felt that he had been cruelly treated by his own government, and no +one who conceives himself to have been wronged and insulted must be +expected to reason in naked syllogisms on the propriety of the liberties +which have been taken with his name and standing. But with all his +quickness of feeling, his manners were easy and courteous, simply because +his nature was warm and kindly, and with all his natural fastidiousness +there was nothing of the coxcomb about him. + +He must have had enemies, as all men of striking individuality are sure +to have; his presence cast more uncouth patriots into the shade; his +learning was a reproach to the ignorant, his fame was too bright a +distinction; his high-bred air and refinement, which he could not help, +would hardly commend him to the average citizen in an order of things in +which mediocrity is at a premium, and the natural nobility of presence, +which rarely comes without family antecedents to account for it, is not +always agreeable to the many whose two ideals are the man on horseback +and the man in his shirt-sleeves. It may well be questioned whether +Washington, with his grand manner, would be nearly as popular with what +are called "the masses" as Lincoln, with his homely ways and broad +stories. The experiment of universal suffrage must render the waters of +political and social life more or less turbid even if they remain +innoxious. The Cloaca Maxima can hardly mingle its contents with the +stream of the Aqua Claudia, without taking something from its crystal +clearness. We need not go so far as one of our well-known politicians has +recently gone in saying that no great man can reach the highest position +in our government, but we can safely say that, apart from military fame, +the loftiest and purest and finest personal qualities are not those which +can be most depended upon at the ballot-box. Strange stories are told of +avowed opposition to Mr. Motley on the ground of the most trivial +differences in point of taste in personal matters,--so told that it is +hard to disbelieve them, and they show that the caprices which we might +have thought belonged exclusively to absolute rulers among their +mistresses or their minions may be felt in the councils of a great people +which calls itself self-governing. It is perfectly true that Mr. Motley +did not illustrate the popular type of politician. He was too +high-minded, too scholarly, too generously industrious, too polished, too +much at home in the highest European circles, too much courted for his +personal fascinations, too remote from the trading world of caucus +managers. To degrade him, so far as official capital punishment could do +it, was not merely to wrong one whom the nation should have delighted to +honor as showing it to the world in the fairest flower of its young +civilization, but it was an indignity to a representative of the highest +scholarship of native growth, which every student in the land felt as a +discouragement to all sound learning and noble ambition. + +If he was disappointed in his diplomatic career, he had enough, and more +than enough, to console him in his brilliant literary triumphs. He had +earned them all by the most faithful and patient labor. If he had not the +"frame of adamant" of the Swedish hero, he had his "soul of fire." No +labors could tire him, no difficulties affright him. What most surprised +those who knew him as a young man was, not his ambition, not his +brilliancy, but his dogged, continuous capacity for work. We have seen +with what astonishment the old Dutch scholar, Groen van Prinsterer, +looked upon a man who had wrestled with authors like Bor and Van Meteren, +who had grappled with the mightiest folios and toiled undiscouraged among +half-illegible manuscript records. Having spared no pains in collecting +his materials, he told his story, as we all know, with flowing ease and +stirring vitality. His views may have been more or less partial; Philip +the Second may have deserved the pitying benevolence of poor Maximilian; +Maurice may have wept as sincerely over the errors of Arminius as any one +of "the crocodile crew that believe in election;" Barneveld and Grotius +may have been on the road to Rome; none of these things seem probable, +but if they were all proved true in opposition to his views, we should +still have the long roll of glowing tapestry he has woven for us, with +all its life-like portraits, its almost moving pageants, its sieges where +we can see the artillery flashing, its battle-fields with their smoke and +fire,--pictures which cannot fade, and which will preserve his name +interwoven with their own enduring colors. + +Republics are said to be ungrateful; it might be truer to say that they +are forgetful. They forgive those who have wronged them as easily as they +forget those who have done them good service. But History never forgets +and never forgives. To her decision we may trust the question, whether +the warm-hearted patriot who had stood up for his country nobly and +manfully in the hour of trial, the great scholar and writer who had +reflected honor upon her throughout the world of letters, the high-minded +public servant, whose shortcomings it taxed the ingenuity of experts to +make conspicuous enough to be presentable, was treated as such a citizen +should have been dealt with. His record is safe in her hands, and his +memory will be precious always in the hearts of all who enjoyed his +friendship. + + + + +APPENDIX. + +A. + +THE SATURDAY CLUB. + +This club, of which we were both members, and which is still flourishing, +came into existence in a very quiet sort of way at about the same time as +"The Atlantic Monthly," and, although entirely unconnected with that +magazine, included as members some of its chief contributors. Of those +who might have been met at some of the monthly gatherings in its earlier +days I may mention Emerson, Hawthorne, Longfellow, Lowell, Motley, +Whipple, Whittier; Professors Agassiz and Peirce; John S. Dwight; +Governor Andrew, Richard H. Dana, Junior, Charles Sumner. It offered a +wide gamut of intelligences, and the meetings were noteworthy occasions. +If there was not a certain amount of "mutual admiration" among some of +those I have mentioned it was a great pity, and implied a defect in the +nature of men who were otherwise largely endowed. The vitality of this +club has depended in a great measure on its utter poverty in statutes and +by-laws, its entire absence of formality, and its blessed freedom from +speech-making. + +That holy man, Richard Baxter, says in his Preface to Alleine's +"Alarm:"-- + + "I have done, when I have sought to remove a little scandal, which I + foresaw, that I should myself write the Preface to his Life where + himself and two of his friends make such a mention of my name, which + I cannot own; which will seem a praising him for praising me. I + confess it looketh ill-favoredly in me. But I had not the power of + other men's writings, and durst not forbear that which was his due." + +I do not know that I have any occasion for a similar apology in printing +the following lines read at a meeting of members of the Saturday Club and +other friends who came together to bid farewell to Motley before his +return to Europe in 1857. + + A PARTING HEALTH + + Yes, we knew we must lose him,--though friendship may claim + To blend her green leaves with the laurels of fame, + Though fondly, at parting, we call him our own, + 'T is the whisper of love when the bugle has blown. + + As the rider that rests with the spur on his heel, + As the guardsman that sleeps in his corselet of steel, + As the archer that stands with his shaft on the string, + He stoops from his toil to the garland we bring. + + What pictures yet slumber unborn in his loom + Till their warriors shall breathe and their beauties shall bloom, + While the tapestry lengthens the life-glowing dyes + That caught from our sunsets the stain of their skies! + + In the alcoves of death, in the charnels of time, + Where flit the dark spectres of passion and crime, + There are triumphs untold, there are martyrs unsung, + There are heroes yet silent to speak with his tongue! + + Let us hear the proud story that time has bequeathed + From lips that are warm with the freedom they breathed! + Let him summon its tyrants, and tell us their doom, + Though he sweep the black past like Van Tromp with his broom! + + The dream flashes by, for the west-winds awake + On pampas, on prairie, o'er mountain and lake, + To bathe the swift bark, like a sea-girdled shrine + With incense they stole from the rose and the pine. + + So fill a bright cup with the sunlight that gushed + When the dead summer's jewels were trampled and crushed; + THE TRUE KNIGHT OF LEARNING,--the world holds him dear,-- + + Love bless him, joy crown him, God speed his career! + + + +B. + +HABITS AND METHODS OF STUDY. + +Mr. Motley's daughter, Lady Harcourt, has favored me with many +interesting particulars which I could not have learned except from a +member of his own family. Her description of his way of living and of +working will be best given in her own words:-- + + "He generally rose early, the hour varying somewhat at different + parts of his life, according to his work and health. Sometimes when + much absorbed by literary labor he would rise before seven, often + lighting his own fire, and with a cup of tea or coffee writing until + the family breakfast hour, after which his work was immediately + resumed, and he usually sat over his writing-table until late in the + afternoon, when he would take a short walk. His dinner hour was + late, and he rarely worked at night. During the early years of his + literary studies he led a life of great retirement. Later, after + the publication of the 'Dutch Republic' and during the years of + official place, he was much in society in England, Austria, and + Holland. He enjoyed social life, and particularly dining out, + keenly, but was very moderate and simple in all his personal habits, + and for many years before his death had entirely given up smoking. + His work, when not in his own library, was in the Archives of the + Netherlands, Brussels, Paris, the English State Paper Office, and + the British Museum, where he made his own researches, patiently and + laboriously consulting original manuscripts and reading masses of + correspondence, from which he afterwards sometimes caused copies to + be made, and where he worked for many consecutive hours a day. + After his material had been thus painfully and toilfully amassed, + the writing of his own story was always done at home, and his mind, + having digested the necessary matter, always poured itself forth in + writing so copiously that his revision was chiefly devoted to + reducing the over-abundance. He never shrank from any of the + drudgery of preparation, but I think his own part of the work was + sheer pleasure to him." + +I should have mentioned that his residence in London while minister was +at the house No. 17 Arlington Street, belonging to Lord Yarborough. + + + + +C. + +SIR WILLIAM GULL's ACCOUNT OF HIS ILLNESS. + +I have availed myself of the permission implied in the subjoined letter +of Sir William Gull to make large extracts from his account of Mr. +Motley's condition while under his medical care. In his earlier years he +had often complained to me of those "nervous feelings connected with the +respiration" referred to by this very distinguished physician. I do not +remember any other habitual trouble to which he was subject. + + 74 BROOK STREET, GROSVENOR SQUARE, W. + February 13, 1878. +MY DEAR SIR,--I send the notes of Mr. Motley's last illness, as I +promised. They are too technical for general readers, but you will make +such exception as you require. The medical details may interest your +professional friends. Mr. Motley's case was a striking illustration that +the renal disease of so-called Bright's disease may supervene as part and +parcel of a larger and antecedent change in the blood-vessels in other +parts than the kidney. . . . I am, my dear sir, + + Yours very truly, + WILLIAM W. GULL. + +To OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, ESQ. + + I first saw Mr. Motley, I believe, about the year 1870, on account + of some nervous feelings connected with the respiration. At that + time his general health was good, and all he complained of was + occasionally a feeling of oppression about the chest. There were no + physical signs of anything abnormal, and the symptoms quite passed + away in the course of time, and with the use of simple antispasmodic + remedies, such as camphor and the like. This was my first interview + with Mr. Motley, and I was naturally glad to have the opportunity of + making his acquaintance. I remember that in our conversation I + jokingly said that my wife could hardly forgive him for not making + her hero, Henri IV., a perfect character, and the earnestness with + which he replied 'au serieux,' I assure you I have fairly recorded + the facts. After this date I did not see Mr. Motley for some time. + He had three slight attacks of haemoptysis in the autumn of 1872, + but no physical signs of change in the lung tissue resulted. So + early as this I noticed that there were signs of commencing + thickening in the heart, as shown by the degree and extent of its + impulse. The condition of his health, though at that time not very + obviously failing, a good deal arrested my attention, as I thought I + could perceive in the occurrence of the haemoptysis, and in the + cardiac hypertrophy, the early beginnings of vascular degeneration. + + In August, 1873, occurred the remarkable seizure, from the effects + of which Mr. Motley never recovered. I did not see him in the + attack, but was informed, as far as I can remember, that he was on a + casual visit at a friend's house at luncheon (or it might have been + dinner), when he suddenly became strangely excited, but not quite + unconscious. . . . I believed at the time, and do so still, that + there was some capillary apoplexy of the convolutions. The attack + was attended with some hemiplegic weakness on the right side, and + altered sensation, and ever after there was a want of freedom and + ease both in the gait and in the use of the arm of that side. To my + inquiries from time to time how the arm was, the patient would + always flex and extend it freely, but nearly always used the + expression, "There is a bedevilment in it;" though the handwriting + was not much, if at all, altered. + + In December, 1873, Mr. Motley went by my advice to Cannes. I wrote + the following letter at the time to my friend Dr. Frank, who was + practising there:-- + + [This letter, every word of which was of value to the + practitioner who was to have charge of the patient, relates + many of the facts given above, and I shall therefore only give + extracts from it.] + + December 29, 1873. + + MY DEAR DR. FRANK,--My friend Mr. Motley, the historian and late + American Minister, whose name and fame no doubt you know very well, + has by my advice come to Cannes for the winter and spring, and I + have promised him to give you some account of his case. To me it is + one of special interest, and personally, as respects the subject of + it, of painful interest. I have known Mr. Motley for some time, but + he consulted me for the present condition about midsummer. + + . . . If I have formed a correct opinion of the pathology of the + case, I believe the smaller vessels are degenerating in several + parts of the vascular area, lung, brain, and kidneys. With this + view I have suggested a change of climate, a nourishing diet, etc.; + and it is to be hoped, and I trust expected, that by great attention + to the conditions of hygiene, internal and external, the progress of + degeneration may be retarded. I have no doubt you will find, as + time goes on, increasing evidence of renal change, but this is + rather a coincidence and consequence than a cause, though no doubt + when the renal change has reached a certain point, it becomes in its + own way a factor of other lesions. I have troubled you at this + length because my mind is much occupied with the pathology of these + cases, and because no case can, on personal grounds, more strongly + challenge our attention. + + Yours very truly, + WILLIAM W. GULL. + + During the spring of 1874, whilst at Cannes, Mr. Motley had a sharp + attack of nephritis, attended with fever; but on returning to + England in July there was no important change in the health. The + weakness of the side continued, and the inability to undertake any + mental work. The signs of cardiac hypertrophy were more distinct. + In the beginning of the year 1875 I wrote as follows:-- + + February 20, 1875. + + MY DEAR Mr. MOTLEY,--. . . The examination I have just made + appears to indicate that the main conditions of your health are more + stable than they were some months ago, and would therefore be so far + in favor of your going to America in the summer, as we talked of. + The ground of my doubt has lain in the possibility of such a trip + further disordering the circulation. Of this, I hope, there is now + less risk. + + On the 4th of June, 1875, I received the following letter:-- + + CALVERLY PARK HOTEL, TUNBRIDGE WELLS, + June 4, 1875. + + MY DEAR SIR WILLIAM,--I have been absent from town for a long time, + but am to be there on the 9th and 10th. Could I make an appointment + with you for either of those days? I am anxious to have a full + consultation with you before leaving for America. Our departure is + fixed for the 19th of this month. I have not been worse than usual + of late. I think myself, on the contrary, rather stronger, and it + is almost impossible for me not to make my visit to America this + summer, unless you should absolutely prohibit it. If neither of + those days should suit you, could you kindly suggest another day? + I hope, however, you can spare me half an hour on one of those days, + as I like to get as much of this bracing air as I can. Will you + kindly name the hour when I may call on you, and address me at this + hotel. Excuse this slovenly note in pencil, but it fatigues my head + and arm much more to sit at a writing-table with pen and ink. + + Always most sincerely yours, + My dear Sir William, + J. L. MOTLEY. + + On Mr. Motley's return from America I saw him, and found him, I + thought, rather better in general health than when he left England. + + In December, 1875, Mr. Motley consulted me for trouble of vision in + reading or walking, from sensations like those produced by flakes of + falling snow coming between him and the objects he was looking at. + Mr. Bowman, one of our most excellent oculists, was then consulted. + Mr. Bowman wrote to me as follows: "Such symptoms as exist point + rather to disturbed retinal function than to any brain-mischief. It + is, however, quite likely that what you fear for the brain may have + had its counterpart in the nerve-structures of the eye, and as he is + short-sighted, this tendency may be further intensified." + + Mr. Bowman suggested no more than such an arrangement of glasses as + might put the eyes, when in use, under better optic conditions. + + The year 1876 was passed over without any special change worth + notice. The walking powers were much impeded by the want of control + over the right leg. The mind was entirely clear, though Mr. Motley + did not feel equal, and indeed had been advised not to apply + himself, to any literary work. Occasional conversations, when I had + interviews with him on the subject of his health, proved that the + attack which had weakened the movements of the right side had not + impaired the mental power. The most noticeable change which had + come over Mr. Motley since I first knew him was due to the death of + Mrs. Motley in December, 1874. It had in fact not only profoundly + depressed him, but, if I may so express it, had removed the centre + of his thought to a new world. In long conversations with me of a + speculative kind, after that painful event, it was plain how much + his point of view of the whole course and relation of things had + changed. His mind was the last to dogmatize on any subject. There + was a candid and childlike desire to know, with an equal confession + of the incapacity of the human intellect. I wish I could recall the + actual expressions he used, but the sense was that which has been so + well stated by Hooker in concluding an exhortation against the pride + of the human intellect, where he remarks:-- + + "Dangerous it were for the feeble brain of man to wade far into the + doings of the Most High; whom although to know be life, and joy to + make mention of His Name, yet our soundest knowledge is to know that + we know Him, not indeed as He is, neither can know Him; and our + safest eloquence concerning Him is our silence, when we confess + without confession that His glory is inexplicable, His greatness + above our capacity and reach. He is above and we upon earth; + therefore it behoveth our words to be wary and few." + + Mrs. Motley's illness was not a long one, and the nature of it was + such that its course could with certainty be predicted. Mr. Motley + and her children passed the remaining days of her life, extending + over about a month, with her, in the mutual under standing that she + was soon to part from them. The character of the illness, and the + natural exhaustion of her strength by suffering, lessened the shock + of her death, though not the loss, to those who survived her. + + The last time I saw Mr. Motley was, I believe, about two months + before his death, March 28, 1877. There was no great change in his + health, but he complained of indescribable sensations in his nervous + system, and felt as if losing the whole power of walking, but this + was not obvious in his gait, although he walked shorter distances + than before. I heard no more of him until I was suddenly summoned + on the 29th of May into Devonshire to see him. The telegram I + received was so urgent, that I suspected some rupture of a blood- + vessel in the brain, and that I should hardly reach him alive; and + this was the case. About two o'clock in the day he complained of a + feeling of faintness, said he felt ill and should not recover; and + in a few minutes was insensible with symptoms of ingravescent + apoplexy. There was extensive haemorrhage into the brain, as shown + by post-mortem examination, the cerebral vessels being atheromatous. + The fatal haemorrhage had occurred into the lateral ventricles, from + rupture of one of the middle cerebral arteries. + + I am, my dear Sir, + Yours very truly, + WILLIAM W. GULL. + + +E. + +FROM THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE MASSACHUSETTS SOCIETY. + +At a meeting of the Massachusetts Historical Society, held on Thursday, +the 14th of June, 1877, after the reading of the records of the preceding +meeting, the president, the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, spoke as follows: + + "Our first thoughts to-day, gentlemen, are of those whom we may not + again welcome to these halls. We shall be in no mood, certainly, + for entering on other subjects this morning until we have given some + expression to our deep sense of the loss--the double loss--which our + Society has sustained since our last monthly meeting."--[Edmund + Quincy died May 17. John Lothrop Motley died May 29.] + +After a most interesting and cordial tribute to his friend, Mr. Quincy, +Mr. Winthrop continued: + + "The death of our distinguished associate, Motley, can hardly have + taken many of us by surprise. Sudden at the moment of its + occurrence, we had long been more or less prepared for it by his + failing health. It must, indeed, have been quite too evident to + those who had seen him, during the last two or three years, that his + life-work was finished. I think he so regarded it himself. + + "Hopes may have been occasionally revived in the hearts of his + friends, and even in his own heart, that his long-cherished purpose + of completing a History of the Thirty Years' War, as the grand + consummation of his historical labors,--for which all his other + volumes seemed to him to have been but the preludes and overtures, + --might still be accomplished. But such hopes, faint and flickering + from his first attack, had well-nigh died away. They were like + Prescott's hopes of completing his 'Philip the Second,' or like + Macaulay's hopes of finishing his brilliant 'History of England.' + + "But great as may be the loss to literature of such a crowning work + from Motley's pen, it was by no means necessary to the completeness + of his own fame. His 'Rise of the Dutch Republic,' his 'History of + the United Netherlands,' and his 'Life of John of Barneveld,' had + abundantly established his reputation, and given him a fixed place + among the most eminent historians of our country and of our age. + + "No American writer, certainly, has secured a wider recognition or a + higher appreciation from the scholars of the Old World. The + universities of England and the learned societies of Europe have + bestowed upon him their largest honors. It happened to me to be in + Paris when he was first chosen a corresponding member of the + Institute, and when his claims were canvassed with the freedom and + earnestness which peculiarly characterize such a candidacy in + France. There was no mistaking the profound impression which his + first work had made on the minds of such men as Guizot and Mignet. + Within a year or two past, a still higher honor has been awarded him + from the same source. The journals not long ago announced his + election as one of the six foreign associates of the French Academy + of Moral and Political Sciences,--a distinction which Prescott would + probably have attained had he lived a few years longer, until there + was a vacancy, but which, as a matter of fact, I believe, Motley was + the only American writer, except the late Edward Livingston, of + Louisiana, who has actually enjoyed. + + "Residing much abroad, for the purpose of pursuing his historical + researches, he had become the associate and friend of the most + eminent literary men in almost all parts of the world, and the + singular charms of his conversation and manners had made him a + favorite guest in the most refined and exalted circles. + + "Of his relations to political and public life, this is hardly the + occasion or the moment for speaking in detail. Misconstructions and + injustices are the proverbial lot of those who occupy eminent + position. It was a duke of Vienna, if I remember rightly, whom + Shakespeare, in his 'Measure for Measure,' introduces as + exclaiming,-- + + 'O place and greatness, millions of false eyes + Are stuck upon thee! Volumes of report + Run with these false and most contrarious quests + Upon thy doings! Thousand 'stapes of wit + Make thee the father of their idle dream, + And rack thee in their fancies!' + + "I forbear from all application of the lines. It is enough for me, + certainly, to say here, to-day, that our country was proud to be + represented at the courts of Vienna and London successively by a + gentleman of so much culture and accomplishment as Mr. Motley, and + that the circumstances of his recall were deeply regretted by us + all. + + "His fame, however, was quite beyond the reach of any such + accidents, and could neither be enhanced nor impaired by + appointments or removals. As a powerful and brilliant historian we + pay him our unanimous tribute of admiration and regret, and give him + a place in our memories by the side of Prescott and Irving. I do + not forget how many of us lament him, also, as a cherished friend. + + "He died on the 29th ultimo, at the house of his daughter, Mrs. + Sheridan, in Dorsetshire, England, and an impressive tribute to his + memory was paid, in Westminster Abbey, on the following Sunday, by + our Honorary Member, Dean Stanley. Such a tribute, from such lips, + and with such surroundings, leaves nothing to be desired in the way + of eulogy. He was buried in Kensal Green Cemetery, by the side of + his beloved wife. + + "One might well say of Motley precisely what he said of Prescott, in + a letter from Rome to our associate, Mr. William Amory, immediately + on hearing of Prescott's death: 'I feel inexpressibly disappointed + --speaking now for an instant purely from a literary point of view + --that the noble and crowning monument of his life, for which he had + laid such massive foundations, and the structure of which had been + carried forward in such a grand and masterly manner, must remain + uncompleted, like the unfinished peristyle of some stately and + beautiful temple on which the night of time has suddenly descended. + But, still, the works which his great and untiring hand had already + thoroughly finished will remain to attest his learning and genius, + --a precious and perpetual possession for his country." + + ................................. + +The President now called on Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, who said:-- + + "The thoughts which suggest themselves upon this occasion are such + as belong to the personal memories of the dear friends whom we have + lost, rather than to their literary labors, the just tribute to + which must wait for a calmer hour than the present, following so + closely as it does on our bereavement." + + ................................. + + "His first literary venture of any note was the story called + 'Morton's Hope; or, The Memoirs of a Provincial.' This first effort + failed to satisfy the critics, the public, or himself. His + personality pervaded the characters and times which he portrayed, + so that there was a discord between the actor and his costume. + Brilliant passages could not save it; and it was plain enough that + he must ripen into something better before the world would give him + the reception which surely awaited him if he should find his true + destination. + + "The early failures of a great writer are like the first sketches + of a great artist, and well reward patient study. More than this, + the first efforts of poets and story-tellers are very commonly + palimpsests: beneath the rhymes or the fiction one can almost always + spell out the characters which betray the writer's self. Take these + passages from the story just referred to: + + "'Ah! flattery is a sweet and intoxicating potion, whether we drink + it from an earthen ewer or a golden chalice. . . . Flattery from + man to woman is expected: it is a part of the courtesy of society; + but when the divinity descends from the altar to burn incense to the + priest, what wonder if the idolater should feel himself transformed + into a god!' + + "He had run the risk of being spoiled, but he had a safeguard in his + aspirations. + + "'My ambitious anticipations,' says Morton, in the story, were as + boundless as they were various and conflicting. There was not a + path which leads to glory in which I was not destined to gather + laurels. As a warrior, I would conquer and overrun the world; as a + statesman, I would reorganize and govern it; as a historian, I would + consign it all to immortality; and, in my leisure moments, I would + be a great poet and a man of the world.' + + "Who can doubt that in this passage of his story he is picturing his + own visions, one of the fairest of which was destined to become + reality? + + "But there was another element in his character, which those who + knew him best recognized as one with which he had to struggle hard, + --that is, a modesty which sometimes tended to collapse into self- + distrust. This, too, betrays itself in the sentences which follow + those just quoted:-- + + "'In short,' says Morton, 'I was already enrolled in that large + category of what are called young men of genius, . . . men of + whom unheard-of things are expected; till after long preparation + comes a portentous failure, and then they are forgotten. . . . + Alas! for the golden imaginations of our youth. . . . They are + all disappointments. They are bright and beautiful, but they fade.'" + + ........................... + +The President appointed Professor Lowell to write the Memoir of Mr. +Quincy, and Dr. Holmes that of Mr. Motley, for the Society's +"Proceedings." + +Professor William Everett then spoke as follows: + + "There is one incident, sir, in Mr. Motley's career that has not + been mentioned to-day, which is, perhaps, most vividly remembered by + those of us who were in Europe at the outbreak of our civil war in + 1861. At that time, the ignorance of Englishmen, friendly or + otherwise, about America, was infinite: they knew very little of us, + and that little wrong. Americans were overwhelmed with questions, + taunts, threats, misrepresentations, the outgrowth of ignorance, and + ignoring worse than ignorance, from every class of Englishmen. + Never was an authoritative exposition of our hopes and policy worse + needed; and there was no one to do it. The outgoing diplomatic + agents represented a bygone order of things; the representatives of + Mr. Lincoln's administration had not come. At that time of anxiety, + Mr. Motley, living in England as a private person, came forward with + two letters in the 'Times,' which set forth the cause of the United + States once and for all. No unofficial, and few official, men could + have spoken with such authority, and been so certain of obtaining a + hearing from Englishmen. Thereafter, amid all the clouds of + falsehood and ridicule which we had to encounter, there was one + lighthouse fixed on a rock to which we could go for foothold, from + which we could not be driven, and against which all assaults were + impotent. + + "There can be no question that the effect produced by these letters + helped, if help had been needed, to point out Mr. Motley as a + candidate for high diplomatic place who could not be overlooked. + Their value was recognized alike by his fellow-citizens in America + and his admirers in England; but none valued them more than the + little band of exiles, who were struggling against terrible odds, + and who rejoiced with a great joy to see the stars and stripes, + whose centennial anniversary those guns are now celebrating, planted + by a hand so truly worthy to rally every American to its support." + + + +G. + +POEM BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. + +I cannot close this Memoir more appropriately than by appending the +following poetical tribute:-- + + IN MEMORY OF JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY. + + BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. + + Sleep, Motley, with the great of ancient days, + Who wrote for all the years that yet shall be. + Sleep with Herodotus, whose name and praise + Have reached the isles of earth's remotest sea. + Sleep, while, defiant of the slow delays + Of Time, thy glorious writings speak for thee + And in the answering heart of millions raise + The generous zeal for Right and Liberty. + And should the days o'ertake us, when, at last, + The silence that--ere yet a human pen + Had traced the slenderest record of the past + Hushed the primeval languages of men + Upon our English tongue its spell shall cast, + Thy memory shall perish only then. + + + + + + +American Men of Letters + +EDITED BY + +CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. + + + "_Thou wert the morning star among the living, + Ere thy fair light had fled: + Now, having died, thou art as Hesperus, giving + New splendor to the dead._" + + + +RALPH WALDO EMERSON. + +BY + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. + +1891 + + + + +NOTE. + + +My thanks are due to the members of Mr. Emerson's family, and the other +friends who kindly assisted me by lending interesting letters and +furnishing valuable information. + +The Index, carefully made by Mr. J.H. Wiggin, was revised and somewhat +abridged by myself. + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. + +BOSTON, November 25, 1884. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +INTRODUCTION + + +CHAPTER I. + +1803-1823. To AET. 20. + +Birthplace.--Boyhood.--College Life. + + +CHAPTER II. + +1823-1828. AET. 20-25. + +Extract from a Letter to a Classmate.--School-Teaching.--Study of +Divinity.--"Approbated" to Preach.--Visit to the South.--Preaching in +Various Places. + + +CHAPTER III. + +1828-1833. AET. 25-30. + +Settled as Colleague of Rev. Henry Ware.--Married to Ellen Louisa +Tucker.--Sermon at the Ordination of Rev. H.B. Goodwin.--His Pastoral +and Other Labors.--Emerson and Father Taylor.--Death of Mrs. +Emerson.--Difference of Opinion with some of his Parishioners.--Sermon +Explaining his Views.--Resignation of his Pastorate. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +1833-1838. AET. 30-35. + +Section I. Visit to Europe.--On his Return preaches in Different +Places.--Emerson in the Pulpit.--At Newton.--Fixes his Residence at +Concord.--The Old Manse.--Lectures in Boston.--Lectures on +Michael Angelo and on Milton published in the "North American +Review."--Beginning of the Correspondence with Carlyle.--Letters to the +Rev. James Freeman Clarke.--Republication of "Sartor Resartus." + +Section 2. Emerson's Second Marriage.--His New Residence in +Concord.--Historical Address.--Course of Ten Lectures on English +Literature delivered in Boston.--The Concord Battle Hymn.--Preaching +in Concord and East Lexington.--Accounts of his Preaching by +Several Hearers.--A Course of Lectures on the Nature and Ends of +History.--Address on War.--Death of Edward Bliss Emerson.--Death of +Charles Chauncy Emerson. + +Section 3. Publication of "Nature."--Outline of this Essay.--Its +Reception.--Address before the Phi Beta Kappa Society + + +CHAPTER V. + +1838-1843. AET. 35-40. + +Section 1. Divinity School Address.--Correspondence.--Lectures on Human +Life.--Letters to James Freeman Clarke.--Dartmouth College Address: +Literary Ethics.--Waterville College Address: The Method of +Nature.--Other Addresses: Man the Reformer.--Lecture on the Times.--The +Conservative.--The Transcendentalist.--Boston "Transcendentalism."--"The +Dial."--Brook Farm. + +Section 2. First Series of Essays published.--Contents: History, +Self-Reliance, Compensation, Spiritual Laws, Love, Friendship, Prudence, +Heroism, The Over-Soul, Circles, Intellect, Art.--Emerson's Account +of his Mode of Life in a Letter to Carlyle.--Death of Emerson's +Son.--Threnody + + +CHAPTER VI. + +1843-1848. AET. 40-45. + +"The Young American."--Address on the Anniversary of the Emancipation +of the Negroes in the British West Indies.--Publication of the +Second Series of Essays.--Contents: The Poet.--Experience. +--Character.--Manners.--Gifts.--Nature.--Politics.--Nominalist +and Realist.--New England Reformers.--Publication of Poems.--Second +Visit to England + + +CHAPTER VII. + +1848-1853. AET. 45-50. + +The "Massachusetts Quarterly Review."--Visit to +Europe.--England.--Scotland.--France.--"Representative Men" published. +I. Lives of Great Men. II. Plato; or, the Philosopher; Plato; New +Readings. III. Swedenborg; or, the Mystic. IV. Montaigne; or, the +Skeptic. V. Shakespeare; or, the Poet. VI. Napoleon; or, the Man of the +World. VII. Goethe; or, the Writer.--Contribution to the "Memoirs of +Margaret Fuller Ossoli" + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +1853-1858. AET. 50-55. + +Lectures in various Places.--Anti-Slavery Addresses.--Woman. A Lecture +read before the Woman's Rights Convention.--Samuel Hoar. Speech at +Concord.--Publication of "English Traits."--The "Atlantic Monthly."--The +"Saturday Club" + + +CHAPTER IX + +1858-1863. AET. 55-60. + +Essay on Persian Poetry.--Speech at the Burns Centennial +Festival.--Letter from Emerson to a Lady.--Tributes to Theodore Parker +and to Thoreau.--Address on the Emancipation Proclamation.--Publication +of "The Conduct of Life." Contents: Fate; Power; Wealth; Culture; +Behavior; Considerations by the Way; Beauty; Illusions + + +CHAPTER X. + +1863-1868. AET. 60-65. + +"Boston Hymn."--"Voluntaries."--Other Poems.--"May-Day and other +Pieces."--"Remarks at the Funeral Services of President Lincoln."--Essay +on Persian Poetry.--Address at a Meeting of the Free Religious +Association.--"Progress of Culture." Address before the Phi Beta +Kappa Society of Harvard University.--Course of Lectures in +Philadelphia.--The Degree of LL.D. conferred upon Emerson by Harvard +University.--"Terminus". + + +CHAPTER XI. + +1868-1873. AET. 65-70. + +Lectures on the Natural History of the Intellect.--Publication of +"Society and Solitude." Contents: Society and Solitude. +--Civilization.--Art.--Eloquence.--Domestic Life.--Farming. +--Works and Days.--Books.--Clubs.--Courage.--Success.--Old Age.--Other +Literary Labors.--Visit to California.--Burning of his House, and the +Story of its Rebuilding.--Third Visit to Europe.--His Reception at +Concord on his Return + + +CHAPTER XII + +1873-1878. AET. 70-75. + +Publication of "Parnassus."--Emerson Nominated as Candidate for the +Office of Lord Rector of Glasgow University.--Publication of +"Letters and Social Aims." Contents: Poetry and Imagination.--Social +Aims.--Eloquence.--Resources.--The Comic.--Quotation and Originality. +--Progress of Culture.--Persian Poetry.--Inspiration.--Greatness. +--Immortality.--Address at the Unveiling of the Statue of "The +Minute-Man" at Concord.--Publication of Collected Poems + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +1878-1882. AET. 75-79. + +Last Literary Labors.--Addresses and Essays.--"Lectures and Biographical +Sketches."--"Miscellanies" + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +Emerson's Poems + + +CHAPTER XV. + +Recollections of Emerson's Last Years.--Mr. Conway's Visits.--Extracts +from Mr. Whitman's Journal.--Dr. Le Baron Russell's Visit.--Dr. Edward +Emerson's Account.--Illness and Death.--Funeral Services + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +EMERSON.---A RETROSPECT. + +Personality and Habits of Life.--His Commission and Errand.--As a +Lecturer.--His Use of Authorities.--Resemblance to Other Writers.--As +influenced by Others.--His Place as a Thinker.--Idealism and +Intuition.--Mysticism.--His Attitude respecting Science.--As an +American.--His Fondness for Solitary Study.--His Patience and +Amiability.--Feeling with which he was regarded.--Emerson and +Burns.--His Religious Belief.--His Relations with Clergymen.--Future of +his Reputation.--His Life judged by the Ideal Standard + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +"I have the feeling that every man's biography is at his own expense. He +furnishes not only the facts, but the report. I mean that all biography +is autobiography. It is only what he tells of himself that comes to be +known and believed." + +So writes the man whose life we are to pass in review, and it is +certainly as true of him as of any author we could name. He delineates +himself so perfectly in his various writings that the careful reader +sees his nature just as it was in all its essentials, and has little +more to learn than those human accidents which individualize him +in space and time. About all these accidents we have a natural and +pardonable curiosity. We wish to know of what race he came, what were +the conditions into which he was born, what educational and social +influences helped to mould his character, and what new elements Nature +added to make him Ralph Waldo Emerson. + +He himself believes in the hereditary transmission of certain +characteristics. Though Nature appears capricious, he says, "Some +qualities she carefully fixes and transmits, but some, and those the +finer, she exhales with the breath of the individual, as too costly to +perpetuate. But I notice also that they may become fixed and permanent +in any stock, by painting and repainting them on every individual, until +at last Nature adopts them and bakes them in her porcelain." + + * * * * * + +We have in New England a certain number of families who constitute what +may be called the Academic Races. Their names have been on college +catalogues for generation after generation. They have filled the learned +professions, more especially the ministry, from the old colonial days to +our own time. If aptitudes for the acquisition of knowledge can be +bred into a family as the qualities the sportsman wants in his dog are +developed in pointers and setters, we know what we may expect of a +descendant of one of the Academic Races. Other things being equal, he +will take more naturally, more easily, to his books. His features will +be more pliable, his voice will be more flexible, his whole nature more +plastic than those of the youth with less favoring antecedents. The +gift of genius is never to be reckoned upon beforehand, any more than +a choice new variety of pear or peach in a seedling; it is always a +surprise, but it is born with great advantages when the stock from which +it springs has been long under cultivation. + +These thoughts suggest themselves in looking back at the striking record +of the family made historic by the birth of Ralph Waldo Emerson. It was +remarkable for the long succession of clergymen in its genealogy, and +for the large number of college graduates it counted on its rolls. + +A genealogical table is very apt to illustrate the "survival of the +fittest,"--in the estimate of the descendants. It is inclined to +remember and record those ancestors who do most honor to the living +heirs of the family name and traditions. As every man may count two +grandfathers, four great-grandfathers, eight great-great-grandfathers, +and so on, a few generations give him a good chance for selection. If +he adds his distinguished grandmothers, he may double the number of +personages to choose from. The great-grandfathers of Mr. Emerson at the +sixth remove were thirty-two in number, unless the list was shortened by +intermarriage of relatives. One of these, from whom the name descended, +was Thomas Emerson of Ipswich, who furnished the staff of life to the +people of that wonderfully interesting old town and its neighborhood. + +His son, the Reverend Joseph Emerson, minister of the town of Mendon, +Massachusetts, married Elizabeth, daughter of the Reverend Edward +Bulkeley, who succeeded his father, the Reverend Peter Bulkeley, as +Minister of Concord, Massachusetts. + +Peter Bulkeley was therefore one of Emerson's sixty-four grandfathers +at the seventh remove. We know the tenacity of certain family +characteristics through long lines of descent, and it is not impossible +that any one of a hundred and twenty-eight grandparents, if indeed the +full number existed in spite of family admixtures, may have transmitted +his or her distinguishing traits through a series of lives that cover +more than two centuries, to our own contemporary. Inherited qualities +move along their several paths not unlike the pieces in the game of +chess. Sometimes the character of the son can be traced directly to that +of the father or of the mother, as the pawn's move carries him from one +square to the next. Sometimes a series of distinguished fathers follows +in a line, or a succession of superior mothers, as the black or white +bishop sweeps the board on his own color. Sometimes the distinguishing +characters pass from one sex to the other indifferently, as the castle +strides over the black and white squares. Sometimes an uncle or aunt +lives over again in a nephew or niece, as if the knight's move were +repeated on the squares of human individuality. It is not impossible, +then, that some of the qualities we mark in Emerson may have come from +the remote ancestor whose name figures with distinction in the early +history of New England. + +The Reverend Peter Bulkeley is honorably commemorated among the worthies +consigned to immortality in that precious and entertaining medley of +fact and fancy, enlivened by a wilderness of quotations at first or +second hand, the _Magnolia Christi Americana_, of the Reverend Cotton +Mather. The old chronicler tells his story so much better than any one +can tell it for him that he must be allowed to speak for himself in a +few extracts, transferred with all their typographical idiosyncrasies +from the London-printed, folio of 1702. + + "He was descended of an Honourable Family in _Bedfordshire_.--He was + born at _Woodhil_ (or _Odel_) in _Bedfordshire_, _January_ 31st, + 1582. + + "His _Education_ was answerable unto his _Original_; it was + _Learned_, it was _Genteel_, and, which was the top of all, it was + very _Pious_: At length it made him a _Batchellor_ of _Divinity_, + and a Fellow of Saint _John's_ Colledge in Cambridge.-- + + "When he came abroad into the World, a good benefice befel him, + added unto the estate of a Gentleman, left him by his Father; whom + he succeeded in his Ministry, at the place of his Nativity: Which + one would imagine _Temptations_ enough to keep him out of a + _Wilderness_." + +But he could not conscientiously conform to the ceremonies of the +English Church, and so,-- + + "When Sir _Nathaniel Brent_ was Arch-Bishop _Laud's_ General, as + Arch-Bishop _Laud_ was _another's_, Complaints were made against Mr. + _Bulkly_, for his Non-Conformity, and he was therefore Silenced. + + "To _New-England_ he therefore came, in the Year 1635; and there + having been for a while, at _Cambridge_, he carried a good Number of + Planters with him, up further into the _Woods_, where they gathered + the _Twelfth Church_, then formed in the Colony, and call'd the Town + by the Name of _Concord_. + + "Here he _buried_ a great Estate, while he _raised_ one still, + for almost every Person whom he employed in the Affairs of his + Husbandry.-- + + "He was a most excellent _Scholar_, a very-_well read_ Person, and + one, who in his advice to young Students, gave Demonstrations, that + he knew what would go to make a _Scholar_. But it being essential + unto a _Scholar_ to love a _Scholar_, so did he; and in Token + thereof, endowed the Library of _Harvard_-Colledge with no small + part of his own. + + "And he was therewithal a most exalted _Christian_--In his Ministry + he was another _Farel, Quo nemo tonuit fortius_--And the observance + which his own People had for him, was also paid him from all sorts + of People throughout the Land; but especially from the Ministers of + the Country, who would still address him as a _Father_, a _Prophet_, + a _Counsellor_, on all occasions." + +These extracts may not quite satisfy the exacting reader, who must be +referred to the old folio from which they were taken, where he will +receive the following counsel:-- + +"If then any Person would know what Mr. _Peter Bulkly_ was, let him read +his Judicious and Savory Treatise of the _Gospel Covenant_, which has +passed through several Editions, with much Acceptance among the People +of God." It must be added that "he had a competently good Stroke at +Latin Poetry; and even in his Old Age, affected sometimes to improve it. +Many of his Composure are yet in our Hands." + +It is pleasant to believe that some of the qualities of this +distinguished scholar and Christian were reproduced in the descendant +whose life we are studying. At his death in 1659 he was succeeded, as +was mentioned, by his son Edward, whose daughter became the wife of the +Reverend Joseph Emerson, the minister of Mendon who, when that village +was destroyed by the Indians, removed to Concord, where he died in the +year 1680. This is the first connection of the name of Emerson with +Concord, with which it has since been so long associated. + +Edward Emerson, son of the first and father of the second Reverend +Joseph Emerson, though not a minister, was the next thing to being one, +for on his gravestone he is thus recorded: "Mr. Edward Emerson, sometime +Deacon of the first church in Newbury." He was noted for the virtue of +patience, and it is a family tradition that he never complained but +once, when he said mildly to his daughter that her dumplings were +somewhat harder than needful,--"_but not often_." This same Edward was +the only break in the line of ministers who descended from Thomas of +Ipswich. He is remembered in the family as having been "a merchant in +Charlestown." + +Their son, the second Reverend Joseph Emerson, Minister of Malden for +nearly half a century, married Mary, the daughter of the Reverend Samuel +Moody,--Father Moody,--of York, Maine. Three of his sons were ministers, +and one of these, William, was pastor of the church at Concord at the +period of the outbreak of the Revolutionary War. + +As the successive generations narrow down towards the individual whose +life we are recalling, the character of his progenitors becomes more and +more important and interesting to the biographer. The Reverend William +Emerson, grandfather of Ralph Waldo, was an excellent and popular +preacher and an ardent and devoted patriot. He preached resistance to +tyrants from the pulpit, he encouraged his townsmen and their allies to +make a stand against the soldiers who had marched upon their peaceful +village, and would have taken a part in the Fight at the Bridge, which +he saw from his own house, had not the friends around him prevented +his quitting his doorstep. He left Concord in 1776 to join the army at +Ticonderoga, was taken with fever, was advised to return to Concord and +set out on the journey, but died on his way. His wife was the daughter +of the Reverend Daniel Bliss, his predecessor in the pulpit at Concord. +This was another very noticeable personage in the line of Emerson's +ancestors. His merits and abilities are described at great length on his +tombstone in the Concord burial-ground. There is no reason to doubt that +his epitaph was composed by one who knew him well. But the slabs +which record the excellences of our New England clergymen of the past +generations are so crowded with virtues that the reader can hardly help +inquiring whether a sharp bargain was not driven with the stonecutter, +like that which the good Vicar of Wakefield arranged with the +portrait-painter. He was to represent Sophia as a shepherdess, it will +be remembered, with as many sheep as he could afford to put in for +nothing. + +William Emerson left four children, a son bearing the same name, and +three daughters, one of whom, Mary Moody Emerson, is well remembered as +pictured for us by her nephew, Ralph Waldo. His widow became the wife +of the Reverend Ezra Ripley, Doctor of Divinity, and his successor as +Minister at Concord. + +The Reverend William Emerson, the second of that name and profession, +and the father of Ralph Waldo Emerson, was born in the year 1769, and +graduated at Harvard College in 1789. He was settled as Minister in the +town of Harvard in the year 1792, and in 1799 became Minister of the +First Church in Boston. In 1796 he married Ruth Haskins of Boston. He +died in 1811, leaving five sons, of whom Ralph Waldo was the second. + +The interest which attaches itself to the immediate parentage of a man +like Emerson leads us to inquire particularly about the characteristics +of the Reverend William Emerson so far as we can learn them from his own +writings and from the record of his contemporaries. + +The Reverend Dr. Sprague's valuable and well-known work, "Annals of the +American Pulpit," contains three letters from which we learn some of +his leading characteristics. Dr. Pierce of Brookline, the faithful +chronicler of his time, speaks of his pulpit talents as extraordinary, +but thinks there was not a perfect sympathy between him and the people +of the quiet little town of Harvard, while he was highly acceptable in +the pulpits of the metropolis. In personal appearance he was attractive; +his voice was melodious, his utterance distinct, his manner agreeable. +"He was a faithful and generous friend and knew how to forgive an +enemy.--In his theological views perhaps he went farther on the liberal +side than most of his brethren with whom he was associated.--He was, +however, perfectly tolerant towards those who differed from him most +widely." + +Dr. Charles Lowell, another brother minister, says of him, "Mr. Emerson +was a handsome man, rather tall, with a fair complexion, his cheeks +slightly tinted, his motions easy, graceful, and gentlemanlike, his +manners bland and pleasant. He was an honest man, and expressed himself +decidedly and emphatically, but never bluntly or vulgarly.--Mr. Emerson +was a man of good sense. His conversation was edifying and useful; never +foolish or undignified.--In his theological opinions he was, to say the +least, far from having any sympathy with Calvinism. I have not supposed +that he was, like Dr. Freeman, a Humanitarian, though he may have been +so." + +There was no honester chronicler than our clerical Pepys, good, hearty, +sweet-souled, fact-loving Dr. John Pierce of Brookline, who knew the +dates of birth and death of the graduates of Harvard, starred and +unstarred, better, one is tempted to say (_Hibernice_), than they did +themselves. There was not a nobler gentleman in charge of any Boston +parish than Dr. Charles Lowell. But after the pulpit has said what it +thinks of the pulpit, it is well to listen to what the pews have to say +about it. + +This is what the late Mr. George Ticknor said in an article in the +"Christian Examiner" for September, 1849. + +"Mr. Emerson, transplanted to the First Church in Boston six years +before Mr. Buckminster's settlement, possessed, on the contrary, a +graceful and dignified style of speaking, which was by no means without +its attraction, but he lacked the fervor that could rouse the masses, +and the original resources that could command the few." + +As to his religious beliefs, Emerson writes to Dr. Sprague as follows: +"I did not find in any manuscript or printed sermons that I looked +at, any very explicit statement of opinion on the question between +Calvinists and Socinians. He inclines obviously to what is ethical +and universal in Christianity; very little to the personal and +historical.--I think I observe in his writings, as in the writings of +Unitarians down to a recent date, a studied reserve on the subject of +the nature and offices of Jesus. They had not made up their own minds on +it. It was a mystery to them, and they let it remain so." + +Mr. William Emerson left, published, fifteen Sermons and Discourses, an +Oration pronounced at Boston on the Fourth of July, 1802, a Collection +of Psalms and Hymns, an Historical Sketch of the First Church in Boston, +besides his contributions to the "Monthly Anthology," of which he was +the Editor. + +Ruth Haskins, the wife of William and the mother of Ralph Waldo +Emerson, is spoken of by the late Dr. Frothingham, in an article in the +"Christian Examiner," as a woman "of great patience and fortitude, of +the serenest trust in God, of a discerning spirit, and a most courteous +bearing, one who knew how to guide the affairs of her own house, as long +as she was responsible for that, with the sweetest authority, and knew +how to give the least trouble and the greatest happiness after that +authority was resigned. Both her mind and her character were of a +superior order, and they set their stamp upon manners of peculiar +softness and natural grace and quiet dignity. Her sensible and kindly +speech was always as good as the best instruction; her smile, though it +was ever ready, was a reward." + +The Reverend Dr. Furness of Philadelphia, who grew up with her son, +says, "Waldo bore a strong resemblance to his father; the other children +resembled their mother." + +Such was the descent of Ralph Waldo Emerson. If the ideas of parents +survive as impressions or tendencies in their descendants, no man had +a better right to an inheritance of theological instincts than this +representative of a long line of ministers. The same trains of thought +and feeling might naturally gain in force from another association of +near family relationship, though not of blood. After the death of the +first William Emerson, the Concord minister, his widow, Mr. Emerson's +grandmother, married, as has been mentioned, his successor, Dr. Ezra +Ripley. The grandson spent much time in the family of Dr. Ripley, whose +character he has drawn with exquisite felicity in a sketch read before +The Social Circle of Concord, and published in the "Atlantic Monthly" +for November, 1883. Mr. Emerson says of him: "He was identified with the +ideas and forms of the New England Church, which expired about the same +time with him, so that he and his coevals seemed the rear guard of the +great camp and army of the Puritans, which, however in its last days +declining into formalism, in the heyday of its strength had planted and +liberated America.... The same faith made what was strong and what was +weak in Dr. Ripley." It would be hard to find a more perfect sketch of +character than Mr. Emerson's living picture of Dr. Ripley. I myself +remember him as a comely little old gentleman, but he was not so +communicative in a strange household as his clerical brethren, smiling +John Foster of Brighton and chatty Jonathan Homer of Newton. Mr. Emerson +says, "He was a natural gentleman; no dandy, but courtly, hospitable, +manly, and public-spirited; his nature social, his house open to all +men.--His brow was serene and open to his visitor, for he loved men, and +he had no studies, no occupations, which company could interrupt. His +friends were his study, and to see them loosened his talents and his +tongue. In his house dwelt order and prudence and plenty. There was +no waste and no stint. He was open-handed and just and generous. +Ingratitude and meanness in his beneficiaries did not wear out his +compassion; he bore the insult, and the next day his basket for the +beggar, his horse and chaise for the cripple, were at their door." How +like Goldsmith's good Dr. Primrose! I do not know any writing of +Mr. Emerson which brings out more fully his sense of humor,--of the +picturesque in character,--and as a piece of composition, continuous, +fluid, transparent, with a playful ripple here and there, it is +admirable and delightful. + +Another of his early companionships must have exercised a still more +powerful influence on his character,--that of his aunt, Mary Moody +Emerson. He gave an account of her in a paper read before the Woman's +Club several years ago, and published in the "Atlantic Monthly" for +December, 1883. Far more of Mr. Emerson is to be found in this aunt of +his than in any other of his relations in the ascending series, with +whose history we are acquainted. Her story is an interesting one, but +for that I must refer the reader to the article mentioned. Her character +and intellectual traits are what we are most concerned with. "Her early +reading was Milton, Young, Akenside, Samuel Clarke, Jonathan Edwards, +and always the Bible. Later, Plato, Plotinus, Marcus Antoninus, Stewart, +Coleridge, Herder, Locke, Madam De Staël, Channing, Mackintosh, Byron. +Nobody can read in her manuscript, or recall the conversation of +old-school people, without seeing that Milton and Young had a religious +authority in their minds, and nowise the slight merely entertaining +quality of modern bards. And Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus,--how venerable +and organic as Nature they are in her mind!" + +There are many sentences cited by Mr. Emerson which remind us very +strongly of his own writings. Such a passage as the following might have +come from his Essay, "Nature," but it was written when her nephew was +only four years old. + + "Malden, 1807, September.--The rapture of feeling I would part from + for days devoted to higher discipline. But when Nature beams with + such excess of beauty, when the heart thrills with hope in its + Author,--feels it is related to Him more than by any ties of + creation,--it exults, too fondly, perhaps, for a state of trial. But + in dead of night, nearer morning, when the eastern stars glow, or + appear to glow, with more indescribable lustre, a lustre which + penetrates the spirits with wonder and curiosity,--then, however + awed, who can fear?"--"A few pulsations of created beings, a few + successions of acts, a few lamps held out in the firmament, enable + us to talk of Time, make epochs, write histories,--to do more,--to + date the revelations of God to man. But these lamps are held to + measure out some of the moments of eternity, to divide the history + of God's operations in the birth and death of nations, of worlds. It + is a goodly name for our notions of breathing, suffering, enjoying, + acting. We personify it. We call it by every name of fleeting, + dreaming, vaporing imagery. Yet it is nothing. We exist in eternity. + Dissolve the body and the night is gone; the stars are extinguished, + and we measure duration by the number of our thoughts, by the + activity of reason, the discovery of truths, the acquirement of + virtue, the approval of God." + +Miss Mary Emerson showed something of the same feeling towards natural +science which may be noted in her nephews Waldo and Charles. After +speaking of "the poor old earth's chaotic state, brought so near in its +long and gloomy transmutings by the geologist," she says:-- + + "Yet its youthful charms, as decked by the hand of Moses' + Cosmogony, will linger about the heart, while Poetry succumbs to + science."--"And the bare bones of this poor embryo earth may give + the idea of the Infinite, far, far better than when dignified with + arts and industry; its oceans, when beating the symbols of countless + ages, than when covered with cargoes of war and oppression. How + grand its preparation for souls, souls who were to feel the + Divinity, before Science had dissected the emotions and applied its + steely analysis to that state of being which recognizes neither + psychology nor element."--"Usefulness, if it requires action, seems + less like existence than the desire of being absorbed in God, + retaining consciousness.... Scorn trifles, lift your aims; do + what you are afraid to do. Sublimity of character must come from + sublimity of motive." + +So far as hereditary and family influences can account for the character +and intellect of Ralph Waldo Emerson, we could hardly ask for a better +inborn inheritance, or better counsels and examples. + + * * * * * + +Having traced some of the distinguishing traits which belong by descent +to Mr. Emerson to those who were before him, it is interesting to note +how far they showed themselves in those of his own generation, his +brothers. Of these I will mention two, one of whom I knew personally. + +Edward Bliss Emerson, who graduated at Harvard College in 1824, three +years after Ralph Waldo, held the first place in his class. He began +the study of the law with Daniel Webster, but overworked himself and +suffered a temporary disturbance of his reason. After this he made +another attempt, but found his health unequal to the task and exiled +himself to Porto Rico, where, in 1834, he died. Two poems preserve his +memory, one that of Ralph Waldo, in which he addresses his memory,-- + + "Ah, brother of the brief but blazing star," + +the other his own "Last Farewell," written in 1832, whilst sailing out +of Boston Harbor. The lines are unaffected and very touching, full of +that deep affection which united the brothers in the closest intimacy, +and of the tenderest love for the mother whom he was leaving to see no +more. + +I had in my early youth a key furnished me to some of the leading traits +which were in due time to develop themselves in Emerson's character and +intelligence. As on the wall of some great artist's studio one may find +unfinished sketches which he recognizes as the first growing conceptions +of pictures painted in after years, so we see that Nature often +sketches, as it were, a living portrait, which she leaves in its +rudimentary condition, perhaps for the reason that earth has no colors +which can worthily fill in an outline too perfect for humanity. The +sketch is left in its consummate incompleteness because this mortal life +is not rich enough to carry out the Divine idea. + +Such an unfinished but unmatched outline is that which I find in the +long portrait-gallery of memory, recalled by the name of Charles Chauncy +Emerson. Save for a few brief glimpses of another, almost lost among my +life's early shadows, this youth was the most angelic adolescent my eyes +ever beheld. Remembering what well-filtered blood it was that ran in the +veins of the race from which he was descended, those who knew him in +life might well say with Dryden,-- + + "If by traduction came thy mind + Our wonder is the less to find + A soul so charming from a stock so good." + +His image is with me in its immortal youth as when, almost fifty years +ago, I spoke of him in these lines, which I may venture to quote from +myself, since others have quoted them before me. + + Thou calm, chaste scholar! I can see thee now, + The first young laurels on thy pallid brow, + O'er thy slight figure floating lightly down + In graceful folds the academic gown, + On thy curled lip the classic lines that taught + How nice the mind that sculptured them with thought, + And triumph glistening in the clear blue eye, + Too bright to live,--but O, too fair to die. + +Being about seven years younger than Waldo, he must have received much +of his intellectual and moral guidance at his elder brother's hands. +I told the story at a meeting of our Historical Society of Charles +Emerson's coming into my study,--this was probably in 1826 or +1827,--taking up Hazlitt's "British Poets" and turning at once to a poem +of Marvell's, which he read with his entrancing voice and manner. The +influence of this poet is plain to every reader in some of Emerson's +poems, and Charles' liking for him was very probably caught from Waldo. +When Charles was nearly through college, a periodical called "The +Harvard Register" was published by students and recent graduates. Three +articles were contributed by him to this periodical. Two of them have +the titles "Conversation," "Friendship." His quotations are from Horace +and Juvenal, Plato, Plutarch, Bacon, Jeremy Taylor, Shakespeare, and +Scott. There are passages in these Essays which remind one strongly of +his brother, the Lecturer of twenty-five or thirty years later. Take +this as an example:-- + + "Men and mind are my studies. I need no observatory high in air to + aid my perceptions or enlarge my prospect. I do not want a costly + apparatus to give pomp to my pursuit or to disguise its inutility. + I do not desire to travel and see foreign lands and learn all + knowledge and speak with all tongues, before I am prepared for my + employment. I have merely to go out of my door; nay, I may stay at + home at my chambers, and I shall have enough to do and enjoy." + +The feeling of this sentence shows itself constantly in Emerson's poems. +He finds his inspiration in the objects about him, the forest in which +he walks; the sheet of water which the hermit of a couple of seasons +made famous; the lazy Musketaquid; the titmouse that mocked his weakness +in the bitter cold winter's day; the mountain that rose in the horizon; +the lofty pines; the lowly flowers. All talked with him as brothers and +sisters, and he with them as of his own household. + +The same lofty idea of friendship which we find in the man in his +maturity, we recognize in one of the Essays of the youth. + + "All men of gifted intellect and fine genius," says Charles Emerson, + "must entertain a noble idea of friendship. Our reverence we are + constrained to yield where it is due,--to rank, merit, talents. But + our affections we give not thus easily. + + 'The hand of Douglas is his own.'" + + --"I am willing to lose an hour in gossip with persons whom good + men hold cheap. All this I will do out of regard to the decent + conventions of polite life. But my friends I must know, and, + knowing, I must love. There must be a daily beauty in their life + that shall secure my constant attachment. I cannot stand upon the + footing of ordinary acquaintance. Friendship is aristocratical--the + affections which are prostituted to every suitor I will not accept." + +Here are glimpses of what the youth was to be, of what the man who long +outlived him became. Here is the dignity which commands reverence,--a +dignity which, with all Ralph Waldo Emerson's sweetness of manner and +expression, rose almost to majesty in his serene presence. There was +something about Charles Emerson which lifted those he was with into +a lofty and pure region of thought and feeling. A vulgar soul stood +abashed in his presence. I could never think of him in the presence +of such, listening to a paltry sentiment or witnessing a mean action +without recalling Milton's line, + + "Back stepped those two fair angels half amazed," + +and thinking how he might well have been taken for a celestial +messenger. + +No doubt there is something of idealization in all these reminiscences, +and of that exaggeration which belongs to the _laudator temporis acti_. +But Charles Emerson was idolized in his own time by many in college and +out of college. George Stillman Hillard was his rival. Neck and neck +they ran the race for the enviable position of first scholar in the +class of 1828, and when Hillard was announced as having the first part +assigned to him, the excitement within the college walls, and to some +extent outside of them, was like that when the telegraph proclaims the +result of a Presidential election,--or the Winner of the Derby. But +Hillard honestly admired his brilliant rival. "Who has a part with **** +at this next exhibition?" I asked him one day, as I met him in the +college yard. "***** the Post," answered Hillard. "Why call him _the +Post_?" said I. "He is a wooden creature," said Hillard. "Hear him and +Charles Emerson translating from the Latin _Domus tota inflammata erat_. +The Post will render the words, 'The whole house was on fire.' Charles +Emerson will translate the sentence 'The entire edifice was wrapped in +flames.'" It was natural enough that a young admirer should prefer the +Bernini drapery of Charles Emerson's version to the simple nudity of +"the Post's" rendering. + + * * * * * + +The nest is made ready long beforehand for the bird which is to be bred +in it and to fly from it. The intellectual atmosphere into which a +scholar is born, and from which he draws the breath of his early mental +life, must be studied if we would hope to understand him thoroughly. + +When the present century began, the elements, thrown into confusion +by the long struggle for Independence, had not had time to arrange +themselves in new combinations. The active intellects of the country had +found enough to keep them busy in creating and organizing a new order of +political and social life. Whatever purely literary talent existed was +as yet in the nebular condition, a diffused luminous spot here and +there, waiting to form centres of condensation. + +Such a nebular spot had been brightening in and about Boston for a +number of years, when, in the year 1804, a small cluster of names became +visible as representing a modest constellation of literary luminaries: +John Thornton Kirkland, afterwards President of Harvard University; +Joseph Stevens Buckminster; John Sylvester John Gardiner; William Tudor; +Samuel Cooper Thacher; William Emerson. These were the chief stars of +the new cluster, and their light reached the world, or a small part of +it, as reflected from the pages of "The Monthly Anthology," which very +soon came under the editorship of the Reverend William Emerson. + +The father of Ralph Waldo Emerson may be judged of in good measure by +the associates with whom he was thus connected. A brief sketch of these +friends and fellow-workers of his may not be out of place, for these +men made the local sphere of thought into which Ralph Waldo Emerson was +born. + +John Thornton Kirkland should have been seen and heard as he is +remembered by old graduates of Harvard, sitting in the ancient +Presidential Chair, on Commencement Day, and calling in his penetrating +but musical accents: "_Expectatur Oratio in Lingua Latina_" or +"_Vernacula_," if the "First Scholar" was about to deliver the English +oration. It was a presence not to be forgotten. His "shining morning +face" was round as a baby's, and talked as pleasantly as his voice did, +with smiles for accents and dimples for punctuation. Mr. Ticknor speaks +of his sermons as "full of intellectual wealth and practical wisdom, +with sometimes a quaintness that bordered on humor." It was of him +that the story was always told,--it may be as old as the invention of +printing,--that he threw his sermons into a barrel, where they went to +pieces and got mixed up, and that when he was going to preach he fished +out what he thought would be about enough for a sermon, and patched the +leaves together as he best might. The Reverend Dr. Lowell says: "He +always found the right piece, and that was better than almost any of +his brethren could have found in what they had written with twice the +labor." Mr. Cabot, who knew all Emerson's literary habits, says he used +to fish out the number of leaves he wanted for a lecture in somewhat the +same way. Emerson's father, however, was very methodical, according +to Dr. Lowell, and had "a place for everything, and everything in its +place." Dr. Kirkland left little to be remembered by, and like many of +the most interesting personalities we have met with, has become a very +thin ghost to the grandchildren of his contemporaries. + +Joseph Stevens Buckminster was the pulpit darling of his day, in Boston. +The beauty of his person, the perfection of his oratory, the finish of +his style, added to the sweetness of his character, made him one of +those living idols which seem to be as necessary to Protestantism as +images and pictures are to Romanism. + +John Sylvester John Gardiner, once a pupil of the famous Dr. Parr, was +then the leading Episcopal clergyman of Boston. Him I reconstruct from +scattered hints I have met with as a scholarly, social man, with a +sanguine temperament and the cheerful ways of a wholesome English +parson, blest with a good constitution and a comfortable benefice. Mild +Orthodoxy, ripened in Unitarian sunshine, is a very agreeable aspect of +Christianity, and none was readier than Dr. Gardiner, if the voice of +tradition may be trusted, to fraternize with his brothers of the liberal +persuasion, and to make common cause with them in all that related to +the interests of learning. + +William Tudor was a chief connecting link between the period of the +"Monthly Anthology," and that of the "North American Review," for he was +a frequent contributor to the first of these periodicals, and he was the +founder of the second. Edward Everett characterizes him, in speaking of +his "Letters on the Eastern States," as a scholar and a gentleman, an +impartial observer, a temperate champion, a liberal opponent, and a +correct writer. Daniel Webster bore similar testimony to his talents and +character. + +Samuel Cooper Thacher was hardly twenty years old when the "Anthology" +was founded, and died when he was only a little more than thirty. He +contributed largely to that periodical, besides publishing various +controversial sermons, and writing the "Memoir of Buckminster." + +There was no more brilliant circle than this in any of our cities. +There was none where so much freedom of thought was united to so much +scholarship. The "Anthology" was the literary precursor of the "North +American Review," and the theological herald of the "Christian +Examiner." Like all first beginnings it showed many marks of immaturity. +It mingled extracts and original contributions, theology and medicine, +with all manner of literary chips and shavings. It had Magazine +ways that smacked of Sylvanus Urban; leading articles with balanced +paragraphs which recalled the marching tramp of Johnson; translations +that might have been signed with the name of Creech, and Odes to +Sensibility, and the like, which recalled the syrupy sweetness and +languid trickle of Laura Matilda's sentimentalities. It talked about +"the London Reviewers" with a kind of provincial deference. It printed +articles with quite too much of the license of Swift and Prior for the +Magazines of to-day. But it had opinions of its own, and would compare +well enough with the "Gentleman's Magazine," to say nothing of "My +Grandmother's Review, the British." A writer in the third volume (1806) +says: "A taste for the belles lettres is rapidly spreading in our +country. I believe that, fifty years ago, England had never seen a +Miscellany or a Review so well conducted as our 'Anthology,' however +superior such publications may now be in that kingdom." + +It is well worth one's while to look over the volumes of the "Anthology" +to see what our fathers and grandfathers were thinking about, and how +they expressed themselves. The stiffness of Puritanism was pretty well +relaxed when a Magazine conducted by clergymen could say that "The +child,"--meaning the new periodical,--"shall not be destitute of the +manners of a gentleman, nor a stranger to genteel amusements. He shall +attend Theatres, Museums, Balls, and whatever polite diversions the town +shall furnish." The reader of the "Anthology" will find for his reward +an improving discourse on "Ambition," and a commendable schoolboy's +"theme" on "Inebriation." He will learn something which may be for his +advantage about the "Anjou Cabbage," and may profit by a "Remedy for +Asthma." A controversy respecting the merits of Sir Richard Blackmore +may prove too little exciting at the present time, and he can turn for +relief to the epistle "Studiosus" addresses to "Alcander." If the lines +of "The Minstrel" who hails, like Longfellow in later years, from "The +District of Main," fail to satisfy him, he cannot accuse "R.T. Paine, +Jr., Esq.," of tameness when he exclaims:-- + + "Rise Columbia, brave and free, + Poise the globe and bound the sea!" + +But the writers did not confine themselves to native or even to English +literature, for there is a distinct mention of "Mr. Goethe's new novel," +and an explicit reference to "Dante Aligheri, an Italian bard." But +let the smiling reader go a little farther and he will find Mr. +Buckminster's most interesting account of the destruction of Goldau. +And in one of these same volumes he will find the article, by Dr. Jacob +Bigelow, doubtless, which was the first hint of our rural cemeteries, +and foreshadowed that new era in our underground civilization which is +sweetening our atmospheric existence. + +The late President Josiah Quincy, in his "History of the Boston +Athenaeum," pays a high tribute of respect to the memory and the +labors of the gentlemen who founded that institution and conducted the +"Anthology." A literary journal had already been published in Boston, +but very soon failed for want of patronage. An enterprising firm of +publishers, "being desirous that the work should be continued, applied +to the Reverend William Emerson, a clergyman of the place, distinguished +for energy and literary taste; and by his exertions several gentlemen +of Boston and its vicinity, conspicuous for talent and zealous for +literature, were induced to engage in conducting the work, and for this +purpose they formed themselves into a Society. This Society was not +completely organized until the year 1805, when Dr. Gardiner was elected +President, and William Emerson Vice-President. The Society thus formed +maintained its existence with reputation for about six years, and issued +ten octavo volumes from the press, constituting one of the most lasting +and honorable monuments of the literature of the period, and may be +considered as a true revival of polite learning in this country after +that decay and neglect which resulted from the distractions of the +Revolutionary War, and as forming an epoch in the intellectual history +of the United States. Its records yet remain, an evidence that it was a +pleasant, active, high-principled association of literary men, laboring +harmoniously to elevate the literary standard of the time, and with a +success which may well be regarded as remarkable, considering the little +sympathy they received from the community, and the many difficulties +with which they had to struggle." + +The publication of the "Anthology" began in 1804, when Mr. William +Emerson was thirty-four years of age, and it ceased to be published in +the year of his death, 1811. Ralph Waldo Emerson was eight years old at +that time. His intellectual life began, we may say, while the somewhat +obscure afterglow of the "Anthology" was in the western horizon of the +New England sky. + +The nebula which was to form a cluster about the "North American Review" +did not take definite shape until 1815. There is no such memorial of +the growth of American literature as is to be found in the first half +century of that periodical. It is easy to find fault with it for uniform +respectability and occasional dulness. But take the names of its +contributors during its first fifty years from the literary record of +that period, and we should have but a meagre list of mediocrities, saved +from absolute poverty by the genius of two or three writers like Irving +and Cooper. Strike out the names of Webster, Everett, Story, Sumner, and +Cushing; of Bryant, Dana, Longfellow, and Lowell; of Prescott, Ticknor, +Motley, Sparks, and Bancroft; of Verplanck, Hillard, and Whipple; of +Stuart and Robinson; of Norton, Palfrey, Peabody, and Bowen; and, +lastly, that of Emerson himself, and how much American classic +literature would be left for a new edition of "Miller's Retrospect"? + +These were the writers who helped to make the "North American Review" +what it was during the period of Emerson's youth and early manhood. +These, and men like them, gave Boston its intellectual character. We +may count as symbols the three hills of "this darling town of ours," +as Emerson called it, and say that each had its beacon. Civil liberty +lighted the torch on one summit, religious freedom caught the flame and +shone from the second, and the lamp of the scholar has burned steadily +on the third from the days when John Cotton preached his first sermon to +those in which we are living. + +The social religious influences of the first part of the century +must not be forgotten. The two high-caste religions of that day were +white-handed Unitarianism and ruffled-shirt Episcopalianism. What called +itself "society" was chiefly distributed between them. Within less than +fifty years a social revolution has taken place which has somewhat +changed the relation between these and other worshipping bodies. This +movement is the general withdrawal of the native New Englanders of both +sexes from domestic service. A large part of the "hired help,"--for +the word servant was commonly repudiated,--worshipped, not with their +employers, but at churches where few or no well-appointed carriages +stood at the doors. The congregations that went chiefly from the +drawing-room and those which were largely made up of dwellers in the +culinary studio were naturally separated by a very distinct line of +social cleavage. A certain exclusiveness and fastidiousness, not +reminding us exactly of primitive Christianity, was the inevitable +result. This must always be remembered in judging the men and women +of that day and their immediate descendants, as much as the surviving +prejudices of those whose parents were born subjects of King George in +the days when loyalty to the crown was a virtue. The line of social +separation was more marked, probably, in Boston, the headquarters of +Unitarianism, than in the other large cities; and even at the present +day our Jerusalem and Samaria, though they by no means refuse dealing +with each other, do not exchange so many cards as they do checks and +dollars. The exodus of those children of Israel from the house of +bondage, as they chose to consider it, and their fusion with the mass of +independent citizens, got rid of a class distinction which was felt even +in the sanctuary. True religious equality is harder to establish than +civil liberty. No man has done more for spiritual republicanism than +Emerson, though he came from the daintiest sectarian circle of the time +in the whole country. + +Such were Emerson's intellectual and moral parentage, nurture, and +environment; such was the atmosphere in which he grew up from youth to +manhood. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +Birthplace.--Boyhood.--College Life. + +1803-1823. To _AET_. 20. + + +Ralph Waldo Emerson was born in Boston, Massachusetts, on the 25th of +May, 1803. + +He was the second of five sons; William, R.W., Edward Bliss, Robert +Bulkeley, and Charles Chauncy. + +His birthplace and that of our other illustrious Bostonian, Benjamin +Franklin, were within a kite-string's distance of each other. When +the baby philosopher of the last century was carried from Milk Street +through the narrow passage long known as Bishop's Alley, now Hawley +Street, he came out in Summer Street, very nearly opposite the spot +where, at the beginning of this century, stood the parsonage of the +First Church, the home of the Reverend William Emerson, its pastor, and +the birthplace of his son, Ralph Waldo. The oblong quadrangle between +Newbury, now Washington Street, Pond, now Bedford Street, Summer Street, +and the open space called Church Green, where the New South Church was +afterwards erected, is represented on Bonner's maps of 1722 and 1769 as +an almost blank area, not crossed or penetrated by a single passageway. + +Even so late as less than half a century ago this region was still a +most attractive little _rus in urbe_. The sunny gardens of the late +Judge Charles Jackson and the late Mr. S.P. Gardner opened their flowers +and ripened their fruits in the places now occupied by great warehouses +and other massive edifices. The most aristocratic pears, the "Saint +Michael," the "Brown Bury," found their natural homes in these sheltered +enclosures. The fine old mansion of Judge William Prescott looked out +upon these gardens. Some of us can well remember the window of his +son's, the historian's, study, the light from which used every evening +to glimmer through the leaves of the pear-trees while "The Conquest of +Mexico" was achieving itself under difficulties hardly less formidable +than those encountered by Cortes. It was a charmed region in which +Emerson first drew his breath, and I am fortunate in having a +communication from one who knew it and him longer than almost any other +living person. + +Mr. John Lowell Gardner, a college classmate and life-long friend of Mr. +Emerson, has favored me with a letter which contains matters of +interest concerning him never before given to the public. With his kind +permission I have made some extracts and borrowed such facts as seemed +especially worthy of note from his letter. + + "I may be said to have known Emerson from the very beginning. A very + low fence divided my father's estate in Summer Street from the field + in which I remember the old wooden parsonage to have existed,--but + this field, when we were very young, was to be covered by Chauncy + Place Church and by the brick houses on Summer Street. Where the + family removed to I do not remember, but I always knew the boys, + William, Ralph, and perhaps Edward, and I again associated with + Ralph at the Latin School, where we were instructed by Master Gould + from 1815 to 1817, entering College in the latter year. + + "... I have no recollection of his relative rank as a scholar, but it + was undoubtedly high, though not the highest. He never was idle or a + lounger, nor did he ever engage in frivolous pursuits. I should say + that his conduct was absolutely faultless. It was impossible that + there should be any feeling about him but of regard and affection. + He had then the same manner and courtly hesitation in addressing you + that you have known in him since. Still, he was not prominent in the + class, and, but for what all the world has since known of him, + his would not have been a conspicuous figure to his classmates in + recalling College days. + + "The fact that we were almost the only Latin School fellows in the + class, and the circumstance that he was slow during the Freshman + year to form new acquaintances, brought us much together, and an + intimacy arose which continued through our College life. We were in + the habit of taking long strolls together, often stopping for repose + at distant points, as at Mount Auburn, etc.... Emerson was not + talkative; he never spoke for effect; his utterances were well + weighed and very deliberately made, but there was a certain flash + when he uttered anything that was more than usually worthy to be + remembered. He was so universally amiable and complying that my + evil spirit would sometimes instigate me to take advantage of his + gentleness and forbearance, but nothing could disturb his + equanimity. All that was wanting to render him an almost perfect + character was a few harsher traits and perhaps more masculine vigor. + + "On leaving College our paths in life were so remote from each other + that we met very infrequently. He soon became, as it were, public + property, and I was engrossed for many years in my commercial + undertakings. All his course of life is known to many survivors. I + am inclined to believe he had a most liberal spirit. I remember that + some years since, when it was known that our classmate ---- was + reduced almost to absolute want by the war, in which he lost his two + sons, Emerson exerted himself to raise a fund among his classmates + for his relief, and, there being very few possible subscribers, made + what I considered a noble contribution, and this you may be sure was + not from any Southern sentiment on the part of Emerson. I send you + herewith the two youthful productions of Emerson of which I spoke to + you some time since." + +The first of these is a prose Essay of four pages, written for a +discussion in which the Professions of Divinity, Medicine, and Law were +to be weighed against each other. Emerson had the Lawyer's side to +advocate. It is a fair and sensible paper, not of special originality or +brilliancy. His opening paragraph is worth citing, as showing the same +instinct for truth which displayed itself in all his after writings and +the conduct of his life. + + "It is usual in advocating a favorite subject to appropriate all + possible excellence, and endeavor to concentrate every doubtful + auxiliary, that we may fortify to the utmost the theme of our + attention. Such a design should be utterly disdained, except as far + as is consistent with fairness; and the sophistry of weak arguments + being abandoned, a bold appeal should be made to the heart, for + the tribute of honest conviction, with regard to the merits of the + subject." + +From many boys this might sound like well-meaning commonplace, but in +the history of Mr. Emerson's life that "bold appeal to the heart," that +"tribute of honest conviction," were made eloquent and real. The +boy meant it when he said it. To carry out his law of sincerity and +self-trust the man had to sacrifice much that was dear to him, but he +did not flinch from his early principles. + +It must not be supposed that the blameless youth was an ascetic in his +College days. The other old manuscript Mr. Gardner sends me is marked +"'Song for Knights of Square Table,' R.W.E." + +There are twelve verses of this song, with a chorus of two lines. The +Muses and all the deities, not forgetting Bacchus, were duly invited to +the festival. + + "Let the doors of Olympus be open for all + To descend and make merry in Chivalry's hall." + * * * * * + +Mr. Sanborn has kindly related to me several circumstances told him by +Emerson about his early years. + +The parsonage was situated at the corner of Summer and what is now +Chauncy streets. It had a yard, and an orchard which Emerson said was as +large as Dr. Ripley's, which might have been some two or three acres. +Afterwards there was a brick house looking on Summer Street, in which +Emerson the father lived. It was separated, Emerson said, by a brick +wall from a garden in which _pears grew_ (a fact a boy is likely to +remember). Master Ralph Waldo used to _sit on this wall_,--but we cannot +believe he ever got off it on the wrong side, unless politely asked to +do so. On the occasion of some alarm the little boy was carried in his +nightgown to a neighboring house. + +After Reverend William Emerson's death Mrs. Emerson removed to a house +in Beacon Street, where the Athenaeum Building now stands. She kept some +boarders,--among them Lemuel Shaw, afterwards Chief Justice of the State +of Massachusetts. It was but a short distance to the Common, and Waldo +and Charles used to drive their mother's cow there to pasture. + + * * * * * + +The Reverend Doctor Rufus Ellis, the much respected living successor of +William Emerson as Minister of the First Church, says that R.W. Emerson +must have been born in the old parsonage, as his father (who died +when he was eight years old) lived but a very short time in "the new +parsonage," which was, doubtless, the "brick house" above referred to. + + * * * * * + +We get a few glimpses of the boy from other sources. Mr. Cooke tells us +that he entered the public grammar school at the age of eight years, and +soon afterwards the Latin School. At the age of eleven he was turning +Virgil into very readable English heroics. He loved the study of Greek; +was fond of reading history and given to the frequent writing of verses. +But he thinks "the idle books under the bench at the Latin School" were +as profitable to him as his regular studies. + +Another glimpse of him is that given us by Mr. Ireland from the "Boyhood +Memories" of Rufus Dawes. His old schoolmate speaks of him as "a +spiritual-looking boy in blue nankeen, who seems to be about ten years +old,--whose image more than any other is still deeply stamped upon my +mind, as I then saw him and loved him, I knew not why, and thought him +so angelic and remarkable." That "blue nankeen" sounds strangely, it may +be, to the readers of this later generation, but in the first quarter +of the century blue and yellow or buff-colored cotton from China were a +common summer clothing of children. The places where the factories and +streets of the cities of Lowell and Lawrence were to rise were then open +fields and farms. My recollection is that we did not think very highly +of ourselves when we were in blue nankeen,--a dull-colored fabric, too +nearly of the complexion of the slates on which we did our ciphering. + +Emerson was not particularly distinguished in College. Having a near +connection in the same class as he, and being, as a Cambridge boy, +generally familiar with the names of the more noted young men in College +from the year when George Bancroft, Caleb Cushing, and Francis William +Winthrop graduated until after I myself left College, I might have +expected to hear something of a young man who afterwards became one of +the great writers of his time. I do not recollect hearing of him except +as keeping school for a short time in Cambridge, before he settled as a +minister. His classmate, Mr. Josiah Quincy, writes thus of his college +days:-- + + "Two only of my classmates can be fairly said to have got into + history, although one of them, Charles W. Upham [the connection of + mine referred to above] has written history very acceptably. Ralph + Waldo Emerson and Robert W. Barnwell, for widely different reasons, + have caused their names to be known to well-informed Americans. Of + Emerson, I regret to say, there are few notices in my journals. Here + is the sort of way in which I speak of the man who was to make so + profound an impression upon the thought of his time. 'I went to the + chapel to hear Emerson's dissertation: a very good one, but rather + too long to give much pleasure to the hearers.' The fault, I + suspect, was in the hearers; and another fact which I have mentioned + goes to confirm this belief. It seems that Emerson accepted the duty + of delivering the Poem on Class Day, after seven others had been + asked who positively, refused. So it appears that, in the opinion of + this critical class, the author of the 'Woodnotes' and the 'Humble + Bee' ranked about eighth in poetical ability. It can only be because + the works of the other five [seven] have been 'heroically unwritten' + that a different impression has come to prevail in the outside + world. But if, according to the measurement of undergraduates, + Emerson's ability as a poet was not conspicuous, it must also be + admitted that, in the judgment of persons old enough to know better, + he was not credited with that mastery of weighty prose which the + world has since accorded him. In our senior year the higher classes + competed for the Boylston prizes for English composition. Emerson + and I sent in our essays with the rest and were fortunate enough to + take the two prizes; but--Alas for the infallibility of academic + decisions! Emerson received the second prize. I was of course much + pleased with the award of this intelligent committee, and should + have been still more gratified had they mentioned that the man who + was to be the most original and influential writer born in America + was my unsuccessful competitor. But Emerson, incubating over deeper + matters than were dreamt of in the established philosophy of + elegant letters, seems to have given no sign of the power that was + fashioning itself for leadership in a new time. He was quiet, + unobtrusive, and only a fair scholar according to the standard of + the College authorities. And this is really all I have to say about + my most distinguished classmate." + +Barnwell, the first scholar in the class, delivered the Valedictory +Oration, and Emerson the Poem. Neither of these performances was highly +spoken of by Mr. Quincy. + +I was surprised to find by one of the old Catalogues that Emerson +roomed during a part of his College course with a young man whom I well +remember, J.G.K. Gourdin. The two Gourdins, Robert and John Gaillard +Keith, were dashing young fellows as I recollect them, belonging to +Charleston, South Carolina. The "Southerners" were the reigning College +_elegans_ of that time, the _merveilleux_, the _mirliflores_, of their +day. Their swallow-tail coats tapered to an arrow-point angle, and the +prints of their little delicate calfskin boots in the snow were objects +of great admiration to the village boys of the period. I cannot help +wondering what brought Emerson and the showy, fascinating John Gourdin +together as room-mates. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +1823-1828. AET. 20-25. + +Extract from a Letter to a Classmate.--School-Teaching.--Study of +Divinity.--"Approbated" to Preach.--Visit to the South.--Preaching in +Various Places. + + +We get a few brief glimpses of Emerson during the years following his +graduation. He writes in 1823 to a classmate who had gone from Harvard +to Andover:-- + + "I am delighted to hear there is such a profound studying of German + and Hebrew, Parkhurst and Jahn, and such other names as the memory + aches to think of, on foot at Andover. Meantime, Unitarianism will + not hide her honors; as many hard names are taken, and as much + theological mischief is planned, at Cambridge as at Andover. By the + time this generation gets upon the stage, if the controversy will + not have ceased, it will run such a tide that we shall hardly + he able to speak to one another, and there will be a Guelf and + Ghibelline quarrel, which cannot tell where the differences lie." + + "You can form no conception how much one grovelling in the city + needs the excitement and impulse of literary example. The sight of + broad vellum-bound quartos, the very mention of Greek and German + names, the glimpse of a dusty, tugging scholar, will wake you up to + emulation for a month." + +After leaving College, and while studying Divinity, Emerson employed a +part of his time in giving instruction in several places successively. + +Emerson's older brother William was teaching in Boston, and Ralph Waldo, +after graduating, joined him in that occupation. In the year 1825 or +1826, he taught school also in Chelmsford, a town of Middlesex County, +Massachusetts, a part of which helped to constitute the city of Lowell. +One of his pupils in that school, the Honorable Josiah Gardiner Abbott, +has favored me with the following account of his recollections:-- + +The school of which Mr. Emerson had the charge was an old-fashioned +country "Academy." Mr. Emerson was probably studying for the ministry +while teaching there. Judge Abbott remembers the impression he made +on the boys. He was very grave, quiet, and very impressive in his +appearance. There was something engaging, almost fascinating, about him; +he was never harsh or severe, always perfectly self-controlled, never +punished except with words, but exercised complete command over the +boys. His old pupil recalls the stately, measured way in which, for some +offence the little boy had committed, he turned on him, saying only +these two words: "Oh, sad!" That was enough, for he had the faculty of +making the boys love him. One of his modes of instruction was to give +the boys a piece of reading to carry home with them,--from some book +like Plutarch's Lives,--and the next day to examine them and find out +how much they retained from their reading. Judge Abbott remembers a +peculiar look in his eyes, as if he saw something beyond what seemed to +be in the field of vision. The whole impression left on this pupil's +mind was such as no other teacher had ever produced upon him. + +Mr. Emerson also kept a school for a short time at Cambridge, and among +his pupils was Mr. John Holmes. His impressions seem to be very much +like those of Judge Abbott. + +My brother speaks of Mr. Emerson thus:-- + + "Calm, as not doubting the virtue residing in his sceptre. Rather + stern in his very infrequent rebukes. Not inclined to win boys by a + surface amiability, but kindly in explanation or advice. Every inch + a king in his dominion. Looking back, he seems to me rather like a + captive philosopher set to tending flocks; resigned to his destiny, + but not amused with its incongruities. He once recommended the use + of rhyme as a cohesive for historical items." + +In 1823, two years after graduating, Emerson began studying for the +ministry. He studied under the direction of Dr. Charming, attending some +of the lectures in the Divinity School at Cambridge, though not enrolled +as one of its regular students. + +The teachings of that day were such as would now be called +"old-fashioned Unitarianism." But no creed can be held to be a finality. +From Edwards to Mayhew, from Mayhew to Channing, from Channing to +Emerson, the passage is like that which leads from the highest lock of +a canal to the ocean level. It is impossible for human nature to remain +permanently shut up in the highest lock of Calvinism. If the gates are +not opened, the mere leakage of belief or unbelief will before long fill +the next compartment, and the freight of doctrine finds itself on +the lower level of Arminianism, or Pelagianism, or even subsides to +Arianism. From this level to that of Unitarianism the outlet is freer, +and the subsidence more rapid. And from Unitarianism to Christian +Theism, the passage is largely open for such as cannot accept the +evidence of the supernatural in the history of the church. + +There were many shades of belief in the liberal churches. If De +Tocqueville's account of Unitarian preaching in Boston at the time of +his visit is true, the Savoyard Vicar of Rousseau would have preached +acceptably in some of our pulpits. In fact, the good Vicar might have +been thought too conservative by some of our unharnessed theologians. + +At the period when Emerson reached manhood, Unitarianism was the +dominating form of belief in the more highly educated classes of both of +the two great New England centres, the town of Boston and the University +at Cambridge. President Kirkland was at the head of the College, Henry +Ware was Professor of Theology, Andrews Norton of Sacred Literature, +followed in 1830 by John Gorham Palfrey in the same office. James +Freeman, Charles Lowell, and William Ellery Channing were preaching in +Boston. I have mentioned already as a simple fact of local history, that +the more exclusive social circles of Boston and Cambridge were chiefly +connected with the Unitarian or Episcopalian churches. A Cambridge +graduate of ambition and ability found an opening far from undesirable +in a worldly point of view, in a profession which he was led to choose +by higher motives. It was in the Unitarian pulpit that the brilliant +talents of Buckminster and Everett had found a noble eminence from which +their light could shine before men. + +Descended from a long line of ministers, a man of spiritual nature, a +reader of Plato, of Augustine, of Jeremy Taylor, full of hope for his +fellow-men, and longing to be of use to them, conscious, undoubtedly, of +a growing power of thought, it was natural that Emerson should turn from +the task of a school-master to the higher office of a preacher. It is +hard to conceive of Emerson in either of the other so-called learned +professions. His devotion to truth for its own sake and his feeling +about science would have kept him out of both those dusty highways. His +brother William had previously begun the study of Divinity, but found +his mind beset with doubts and difficulties, and had taken to the +profession of Law. It is not unlikely that Mr. Emerson was more or less +exercised with the same questionings. He has said, speaking of his +instructors: "If they had examined me, they probably would not have let +me preach at all." His eyes had given him trouble, so that he had not +taken notes of the lectures which he heard in the Divinity School, which +accounted for his being excused from examination. In 1826, after three +years' study, he was "approbated to preach" by the Middlesex Association +of Ministers. His health obliging him to seek a southern climate, he +went in the following winter to South Carolina and Florida. During this +absence he preached several times in Charleston and other places. On his +return from the South he preached in New Bedford, in Northampton, in +Concord, and in Boston. His attractiveness as a preacher, of which we +shall have sufficient evidence in a following chapter, led to his +being invited to share the duties of a much esteemed and honored city +clergyman, and the next position in which we find him is that of a +settled Minister in Boston. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +1828-1833. AET. 25-30. + +Settled as Colleague of Rev. Henry Ware.--Married to Ellen Louisa +Tucker.--Sermon at the Ordination of Rev. H.B. Goodwin.--His Pastoral +and Other Labors.--Emerson and Father Taylor.--Death of Mrs. +Emerson.--Difference of Opinion with some of his Parishioners.--Sermon +Explaining his Views.--Resignation of his Pastorate. + + +On the 11th of March, 1829, Emerson was ordained as colleague with +the Reverend Henry Ware, Minister of the Second Church in Boston. In +September of the same year he was married to Miss Ellen Louisa Tucker. +The resignation of his colleague soon after his settlement threw all the +pastoral duties upon the young minister, who seems to have performed +them diligently and acceptably. Mr. Conway gives the following brief +account of his labors, and tells in the same connection a story of +Father Taylor too good not to be repeated:-- + + "Emerson took an active interest in the public affairs of Boston. + He was on its School Board, and was chosen chaplain of the State + Senate. He invited the anti-slavery lecturers into his church, and + helped philanthropists of other denominations in their work. Father + Taylor [the Methodist preacher to the sailors], to whom Dickens gave + an English fame, found in him his most important supporter when + establishing the Seaman's Mission in Boston. This was told me by + Father Taylor himself in his old age. I happened to be in his + company once, when he spoke rather sternly about my leaving the + Methodist Church; but when I spoke of the part Emerson had in it, he + softened at once, and spoke with emotion of his great friend. I have + no doubt that if the good Father of Boston Seamen was proud of any + personal thing, it was of the excellent answer he is said to have + given to some Methodists who objected to his friendship for Emerson. + Being a Unitarian, they insisted that he must go to"--[the place + which a divine of Charles the Second's day said it was not good + manners to mention in church].--"'It does look so,' said Father + Taylor, 'but I am sure of one thing: if Emerson goes to'"--[that + place]--"'he will change the climate there, and emigration will set + that way.'" + +In 1830, Emerson took part in the services at the ordination of the +Reverend H.B. Goodwin as Dr. Ripley's colleague. His address on giving +the right hand of fellowship was printed, but is not included among his +collected works. + +The fair prospects with which Emerson began his life as a settled +minister were too soon darkened. In February, 1832, the wife of +his youth, who had been for some time in failing health, died of +consumption. + +He had become troubled with doubts respecting a portion of his duties, +and it was not in his nature to conceal these doubts from his people. On +the 9th of September, 1832, he preached a sermon on the Lord's Supper, +in which he announced unreservedly his conscientious scruples against +administering that ordinance, and the grounds upon which those scruples +were founded. This discourse, as his only printed sermon, and as one +which heralded a movement in New England theology which has never +stopped from that day to this, deserves some special notice. The sermon +is in no sense "Emersonian" except in its directness, its sweet temper, +and outspoken honesty. He argues from his comparison of texts in a +perfectly sober, old-fashioned way, as his ancestor Peter Bulkeley might +have done. It happened to that worthy forefather of Emerson that upon +his "pressing a piece of _Charity_ disagreeable to the will of the +_Ruling Elder_, there was occasioned an unhappy _Discord_ in the Church +of _Concord_; which yet was at last healed, by their calling in the help +of a _Council_ and the _Ruling Elder's_ Abdication." So says Cotton +Mather. Whether zeal had grown cooler or charity grown warmer in +Emerson's days we need not try to determine. The sermon was only a more +formal declaration of views respecting the Lord's Supper, which he had +previously made known in a conference with some of the most active +members of his church. As a committee of the parish reported resolutions +radically differing from his opinion on the subject, he preached this +sermon and at the same time resigned his office. There was no "discord," +there was no need of a "council." Nothing could be more friendly, more +truly Christian, than the manner in which Mr. Emerson expressed himself +in this parting discourse. All the kindness of his nature warms it +throughout. He details the differences of opinion which have existed +in the church with regard to the ordinance. He then argues from the +language of the Evangelists that it was not intended to be a permanent +institution. He takes up the statement of Paul in the Epistle to the +Corinthians, which he thinks, all things considered, ought not to alter +our opinion derived from the Evangelists. He does not think that we are +to rely upon the opinions and practices of the primitive church. If that +church believed the institution to be permanent, their belief does not +settle the question for us. On every other subject, succeeding times +have learned to form a judgment more in accordance with the spirit of +Christianity than was the practice of the early ages. + +"But, it is said, 'Admit that the rite was not designed to be +perpetual.' What harm doth it?" + +He proceeds to give reasons which show it to be inexpedient to continue +the observance of the rite. It was treating that as authoritative which, +as he believed that he had shown from Scripture, was not so. It confused +the idea of God by transferring the worship of Him to Christ. Christ is +the Mediator only as the instructor of man. In the least petition to God +"the soul stands alone with God, and Jesus is no more present to your +mind than your brother or child." Again:-- + + "The use of the elements, however suitable to the people and the + modes of thought in the East, where it originated, is foreign and + unsuited to affect us. The day of formal religion is past, and we + are to seek our well-being in the formation of the soul. The Jewish + was a religion of forms; it was all body, it had no life, and the + Almighty God was pleased to qualify and send forth a man to teach + men that they must serve him with the heart; that only that life was + religious which was thoroughly good; that sacrifice was smoke and + forms were shadows. This man lived and died true to that purpose; + and with his blessed word and life before us, Christians must + contend that it is a matter of vital importance,--really a duty to + commemorate him by a certain form, whether that form be acceptable + to their understanding or not. Is not this to make vain the gift of + God? Is not this to turn back the hand on the dial?" + +To these objections he adds the practical consideration that it brings +those who do not partake of the communion service into an unfavorable +relation with those who do. + +The beautiful spirit of the man shows itself in all its noble sincerity +in these words at the close of his argument:-- + + "Having said this, I have said all. I have no hostility to this + institution; I am only stating my want of sympathy with it. Neither + should I ever have obtruded this opinion upon other people, had I + not been called by my office to administer it. That is the end of + my opposition, that I am not interested in it. I am content that it + stand to the end of the world if it please men and please Heaven, + and I shall rejoice in all the good it produces." + +He then announces that, as it is the prevailing opinion and feeling +in our religious community that it is a part of a pastor's duties to +administer this rite, he is about to resign the office which had been +confided to him. + +This is the only sermon of Mr. Emerson's ever published. It was +impossible to hear or to read it without honoring the preacher for his +truthfulness, and recognizing the force of his statement and reasoning. +It was equally impossible that he could continue his ministrations +over a congregation which held to the ordinance he wished to give up +entirely. And thus it was, that with the most friendly feelings on +both sides, Mr. Emerson left the pulpit of the Second Church and found +himself obliged to make a beginning in a new career. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +1833-1838. AET. 30-35. + +Section 1. Visit to Europe.--On his Return preaches in Different +Places.--Emerson in the Pulpit.--At Newton.--Fixes his Residence at +Concord.--The Old Manse.--Lectures in Boston.--Lectures on +Michael Angelo and on Milton published in the "North American +Review."--Beginning of the Correspondence with Carlyle.--Letters to the +Rev. James Freeman Clarke.--Republication of "Sartor Resartus." + +Section 2. Emerson's Second Marriage.--His New Residence in +Concord.--Historical Address.--Course of Ten Lectures on English +Literature delivered in Boston.--The Concord Battle Hymn.--Preaching +in Concord and East Lexington.--Accounts of his Preaching by +Several Hearers.--A Course of Lectures on the Nature and Ends of +History.--Address on War.--Death of Edward Bliss Emerson.--Death of +Charles Chauncy Emerson. + +Section 3. Publication of "Nature."--Outline of this Essay.--Its +Reception.--Address before the Phi Beta Kappa Society. + + +Section 1. In the year 1833 Mr. Emerson visited Europe for the first +time. A great change had come over his life, and he needed the relief +which a corresponding change of outward circumstances might afford +him. A brief account of this visit is prefixed to the volume entitled +"English Traits." He took a short tour, in which he visited Sicily, +Italy, and France, and, crossing from Boulogne, landed at the Tower +Stairs in London. He finds nothing in his Diary to publish concerning +visits to places. But he saw a number of distinguished persons, of whom +he gives pleasant accounts, so singularly different in tone from the +rough caricatures in which Carlyle vented his spleen and caprice, that +one marvels how the two men could have talked ten minutes together, +or would wonder, had not one been as imperturbable as the other was +explosive. Horatio Greenough and Walter Savage Landor are the chief +persons he speaks of as having met upon the Continent. Of these he +reports various opinions as delivered in conversation. He mentions +incidentally that he visited Professor Amici, who showed him his +microscopes "magnifying (it was said) two thousand diameters." Emerson +hardly knew his privilege; he may have been the first American to look +through an immersion lens with the famous Modena professor. Mr. Emerson +says that his narrow and desultory reading had inspired him with the +wish to see the faces of three or four writers, Coleridge, Wordsworth, +Landor, De Quincey, Carlyle. His accounts of his interviews with +these distinguished persons are too condensed to admit of further +abbreviation. Goethe and Scott, whom he would have liked to look upon, +were dead; Wellington he saw at Westminster Abbey, at the funeral of +Wilberforce. His impressions of each of the distinguished persons whom +he visited should be looked at in the light of the general remark which, +follows:-- + + "The young scholar fancies it happiness enough to live with people + who can give an inside to the world; without reflecting that + they are prisoners, too, of their own thought, and cannot apply + themselves to yours. The conditions of literary success are almost + destructive of the best social power, as they do not have that + frolic liberty which only can encounter a companion on the best + terms. It is probable you left some obscure comrade at a tavern, or + in the farms, with right mother-wit, and equality to life, when you + crossed sea and land to play bo-peep with celebrated scribes. I + have, however, found writers superior to their books, and I cling to + my first belief that a strong head will dispose fast enough of these + impediments, and give one the satisfaction of reality, the sense of + having been met, and a larger horizon." + +Emerson carried a letter of introduction to a gentleman in Edinburgh, +who, being unable to pay him all the desired attention, handed him over +to Mr. Alexander Ireland, who has given a most interesting account of +him as he appeared during that first visit to Europe. Mr. Ireland's +presentation of Emerson as he heard him in the Scotch pulpit shows +that he was not less impressive and attractive before an audience of +strangers than among his own countrymen and countrywomen:-- + +"On Sunday, the 18th of August, 1833, I heard him deliver a discourse in +the Unitarian Chapel, Young Street, Edinburgh, and I remember distinctly +the effect which it produced on his hearers. It is almost needless to +say that nothing like it had ever been heard by them before, and many of +them did not know what to make of it. The originality of his thoughts, +the consummate beauty of the language in which they were clothed, the +calm dignity of his bearing, the absence of all oratorical effort, and +the singular directness and simplicity of his manner, free from the +least shadow of dogmatic assumption, made a deep impression on me. Not +long before this I had listened to a wonderful sermon by Dr. Chalmers, +whose force, and energy, and vehement, but rather turgid eloquence +carried, for the moment, all before them,--his audience becoming like +clay in the hands of the potter. But I must confess that the pregnant +thoughts and serene self-possession of the young Boston minister had a +greater charm for me than all the rhetorical splendors of Chalmers. His +voice was the sweetest, the most winning and penetrating of any I ever +heard; nothing like it have I listened to since. + + 'That music in our hearts we bore + Long after it was heard no more.'" + +Mr. George Gilfillan speaks of "the solemnity of his manner, and the +earnest thought pervading his discourse." + +As to the effect of his preaching on his American audiences, I find the +following evidence in Mr. Cooke's diligently gathered collections. Mr. +Sanborn says:-- + + "His pulpit eloquence was singularly attractive, though by no means + equally so to all persons. In 1829, before the two friends had met, + Bronson Alcott heard him preach in Dr. Channing's church on 'The + Universality of the Moral Sentiment,' and was struck, as he said, + with the youth of the preacher, the beauty of his elocution and the + direct and sincere manner in which he addressed his hearers." + +Mr. Charles Congdon, of New Bedford, well known as a popular +writer, gives the following account of Emerson's preaching in his +"Reminiscences." I borrow the quotation from Mr. Conway:-- + + "One day there came into our pulpit the most gracious of mortals, + with a face all benignity, who gave out the first hymn and made the + first prayer as an angel might have read and prayed. Our choir was + a pretty good one, but its best was coarse and discordant after + Emerson's voice. I remember of the sermon only that it had an + indefinite charm of simplicity and wisdom, with occasional + illustrations from nature, which were about the most delicate and + dainty things of the kind which I had ever heard. I could understand + them, if not the fresh philosophical novelties of the discourse." + +Everywhere Emerson seems to have pleased his audiences. The Reverend Dr. +Morison, formerly the much respected Unitarian minister of New Bedford, +writes to me as follows:-- + + "After Dr. Dewey left New Bedford, Mr. Emerson preached there + several months, greatly to the satisfaction and delight of those who + heard him. The Society would have been glad to settle him as their + minister, and he would have accepted a call, had it not been for + some difference of opinion, I think, in regard to the communion + service. Judge Warren, who was particularly his friend, and had at + that time a leading influence in the parish, with all his admiration + for Mr. Emerson, did not think he could well be the pastor of a + Christian church, and so the matter was settled between him and his + friend, without any action by the Society." + +All this shows well enough that his preaching was eminently acceptable. +But every one who has heard him lecture can form an idea of what he must +have been as a preacher. In fact, we have all listened, probably, to +many a passage from old sermons of his,--for he tells us he borrowed +from those old sermons for his lectures,--without ever thinking of the +pulpit from which they were first heard. + +Among the stray glimpses we get of Emerson between the time when he +quitted the pulpit of his church and that when he came before the public +as a lecturer is this, which I owe to the kindness of Hon. Alexander H. +Rice. In 1832 or 1833, probably the latter year, he, then a boy, with +another boy, Thomas R. Gould, afterwards well known as a sculptor, being +at the Episcopal church in Newton, found that Mr. Emerson was sitting in +the pew behind them. Gould knew Mr. Emerson, and introduced young Rice +to him, and they walked down the street together. As they went along, +Emerson burst into a rhapsody over the Psalms of David, the sublimity of +thought, and the poetic beauty of expression of which they are full, and +spoke also with enthusiasm of the Te Deum as that grand old hymn which +had come down through the ages, voicing the praises of generation after +generation. + +When they parted at the house of young Rice's father, Emerson invited +the boys to come and see him at the Allen farm, in the afternoon. They +came to a piece of woods, and, as they entered it, took their hats off. +"Boys," said Emerson, "here we recognize the presence of the Universal +Spirit. The breeze says to us in its own language, How d' ye do? How d' +ye do? and we have already taken our hats off and are answering it with +our own How d' ye do? How d' ye do? And all the waving branches of +the trees, and all the flowers, and the field of corn yonder, and the +singing brook, and the insect and the bird,--every living thing and +things we call inanimate feel the same divine universal impulse while +they join with us, and we with them, in the greeting which is the +salutation of the Universal Spirit." + +We perceive the same feeling which pervades many of Emerson's earlier +Essays and much of his verse, in these long-treasured reminiscences +of the poetical improvisation with which the two boys were thus +unexpectedly favored. Governor Rice continues:-- + + "You know what a captivating charm there always was in Emerson's + presence, but I can never tell you how this line of thought then + impressed a country boy. I do not remember anything about the + remainder of that walk, nor of the after-incidents of that day,--I + only remember that I went home wondering about that mystical dream + of the Universal Spirit, and about what manner of man he was under + whose influence I had for the first time come.... + + "The interview left impressions that led me into new channels of + thought which have been a life-long pleasure to me, and, I doubt + not, taught me somewhat how to distinguish between mere theological + dogma and genuine religion in the soul." + +In the summer of 1834 Emerson became a resident of Concord, +Massachusetts, the town of his forefathers, and the place destined to +be his home for life. He first lived with his venerable connection, Dr. +Ripley, in the dwelling made famous by Hawthorne as the "Old Manse." It +is an old-fashioned gambrel-roofed house, standing close to the scene +of the Fight on the banks of the river. It was built for the Reverend +William Emerson, his grandfather. In one of the rooms of this house +Emerson wrote "Nature," and in the same room, some years later, +Hawthorne wrote "Mosses from an Old Manse." + +The place in which Emerson passed the greater part of his life well +deserves a special notice. Concord might sit for its portrait as an +ideal New England town. If wanting in the variety of surface which +many other towns can boast of, it has at least a vision of the distant +summits of Monadnock and Wachusett. It has fine old woods, and noble +elms to give dignity to its open spaces. Beautiful ponds, as they +modestly call themselves,--one of which, Walden, is as well known in our +literature as Windermere in that of Old England,--lie quietly in their +clean basins. And through the green meadows runs, or rather lounges, +a gentle, unsalted stream, like an English river, licking its grassy +margin with a sort of bovine placidity and contentment. This is the +Musketaquid, or Meadow River, which, after being joined by the more +restless Assabet, still keeps its temper and flows peacefully along by +and through other towns, to lose itself in the broad Merrimac. The names +of these rivers tell us that Concord has an Indian history, and there is +evidence that it was a favorite residence of the race which preceded our +own. The native tribes knew as well as the white settlers where were +pleasant streams and sweet springs, where corn grew tall in the meadows +and fish bred fast in the unpolluted waters. + +The place thus favored by nature can show a record worthy of its +physical attractions. Its settlement under the lead of Emerson's +ancestor, Peter Bulkeley, was effected in the midst of many +difficulties, which the enterprise and self-sacrifice of that noble +leader were successful in overcoming. On the banks of the Musketaquid +was fired the first fatal shot of the "rebel" farmers. Emerson appeals +to the Records of the town for two hundred years as illustrating the +working of our American institutions and the character of the men of +Concord:-- + + "If the good counsel prevailed, the sneaking counsel did not fail to + be suggested; freedom and virtue, if they triumphed, triumphed in a + fair field. And so be it an everlasting testimony for them, and so + much ground of assurance of man's capacity for self-government." + +What names that plain New England town reckons in the roll of its +inhabitants! Stout Major Buttrick and his fellow-soldiers in the war of +Independence, and their worthy successors in the war of Freedom; lawyers +and statesmen like Samuel Hoar and his descendants; ministers like Peter +Bulkeley, Daniel Bliss, and William Emerson; and men of genius such as +the idealist and poet whose inspiration has kindled so many souls; as +the romancer who has given an atmosphere to the hard outlines of our +stern New England; as that unique individual, half college-graduate and +half Algonquin, the Robinson Crusoe of Walden Pond, who carried out a +school-boy whim to its full proportions, and told the story of Nature in +undress as only one who had hidden in her bedroom could have told it. I +need not lengthen the catalogue by speaking of the living, or mentioning +the women whose names have added to its distinction. It has long been an +intellectual centre such as no other country town of our own land, if of +any other, could boast. Its groves, its streams, its houses, are haunted +by undying memories, and its hillsides and hollows are made holy by the +dust that is covered by their turf. + +Such was the place which the advent of Emerson made the Delphi of New +England and the resort of many pilgrims from far-off regions. + +On his return from Europe in the winter of 1833-4, Mr. Emerson began to +appear before the public as a lecturer. His first subjects, "Water," and +the "Relation of Man to the Globe," were hardly such as we should have +expected from a scholar who had but a limited acquaintance with physical +and physiological science. They were probably chosen as of a popular +character, easily treated in such a way as to be intelligible and +entertaining, and thus answering the purpose of introducing him +pleasantly to the new career he was contemplating. These lectures are +not included in his published works, nor were they ever published, so +far as I know. He gave three lectures during the same winter, relating +the experiences of his recent tour in Europe. Having made himself at +home on the platform, he ventured upon subjects more congenial to his +taste and habits of thought than some of those earlier topics. In 1834 +he lectured on Michael Angelo, Milton, Luther, George Fox, and Edmund +Burke. The first two of these lectures, though not included in his +collected works, may be found in the "North American Review" for 1837 +and 1838. The germ of many of the thoughts which he has expanded in +prose and verse may be found in these Essays. + +The _Cosmos_ of the Ancient Greeks, the _piu nel' uno_, "The Many in +One," appear in the Essay on Michael Angelo as they also appear in his +"Nature." The last thought takes wings to itself and rises in the little +poem entitled "Each and All." The "Rhodora," another brief poem, finds +itself foreshadowed in the inquiry, "What is Beauty?" and its answer, +"This great Whole the understanding cannot embrace. Beauty may be felt. +It may be produced. But it cannot be defined." And throughout this Essay +the feeling that truth and beauty and virtue are one, and that Nature is +the symbol which typifies it to the soul, is the inspiring sentiment. +_Noscitur a sociis_ applies as well to a man's dead as to his living +companions. A young friend of mine in his college days wrote an essay on +Plato. When he mentioned his subject to Mr. Emerson, he got the caution, +long remembered, "When you strike at a _King_, you must kill him." +He himself knew well with what kings of thought to measure his own +intelligence. What was grandest, loftiest, purest, in human character +chiefly interested him. He rarely meddles with what is petty or ignoble. +Like his "Humble Bee," the "yellow-breeched philosopher," whom he speaks +of as + + "Wiser far than human seer," + +and says of him, + + "Aught unsavory or unclean + Hath my insect never seen," + +he goes through the world where coarser minds find so much that is +repulsive to dwell upon, + + "Seeing only what is fair, + Sipping only what is sweet." + +Why Emerson selected Michael Angelo as the subject of one of his +earliest lectures is shown clearly enough by the last sentence as +printed in the Essay. + + "He was not a citizen of any country; he belonged to the human race; + he was a brother and a friend to all who acknowledged the beauty + that beams in universal nature, and who seek by labor and + self-denial to approach its source in perfect goodness." + +Consciously or unconsciously men describe themselves in the characters +they draw. One must have the mordant in his own personality or he will +not take the color of his subject. He may force himself to picture that +which he dislikes or even detests; but when he loves the character he +delineates, it is his own, in some measure, at least, or one of which he +feels that its possibilities and tendencies belong to himself. Let us +try Emerson by this test in his "Essay on Milton:"-- + + "It is the prerogative of this great man to stand at this hour + foremost of all men in literary history, and so (shall we not say?) + of all men, in the power to _inspire_. Virtue goes out of him into + others." ... "He is identified in the mind with all select and holy + images, with the supreme interests of the human race."--"Better than + any other he has discharged the office of every great man, namely, + to raise the idea of Man in the minds of his contemporaries and of + posterity,--to draw after nature a life of man, exhibiting such a + composition of grace, of strength, and of virtue as poet had not + described nor hero lived. Human nature in these ages is indebted to + him for its best portrait. Many philosophers in England, France, and + Germany, have formally dedicated their study to this problem; and + we think it impossible to recall one in those countries who + communicates the same vibration of hope, of self-reverence, of + piety, of delight in beauty, which the name of Milton awakes." + +Emerson had the same lofty aim as Milton, "To raise the idea of man;" +he had "the power _to inspire_" in a preëminent degree. If ever a man +communicated those _vibrations_ he speaks of as characteristic of +Milton, it was Emerson. In elevation, purity, nobility of nature, he is +worthy to stand with the great poet and patriot, who began like him as a +school-master, and ended as the teacher in a school-house which had for +its walls the horizons of every region where English is spoken. The +similarity of their characters might be followed by the curious into +their fortunes. Both were turned away from the clerical office by a +revolt of conscience against the beliefs required of them; both lost +very dear objects of affection in early manhood, and mourned for them +in tender and mellifluous threnodies. It would be easy to trace many +parallelisms in their prose and poetry, but to have dared to name any +man whom we have known in our common life with the seraphic singer +of the Nativity and of Paradise is a tribute which seems to savor of +audacity. It is hard to conceive of Emerson as "an expert swordsman" +like Milton. It is impossible to think of him as an abusive +controversialist as Milton was in his controversy with Salmasius. But +though Emerson never betrayed it to the offence of others, he must have +been conscious, like Milton, of "a certain niceness of nature, an honest +haughtiness," which was as a shield about his inner nature. Charles +Emerson, the younger brother, who was of the same type, expresses the +feeling in his college essay on Friendship, where it is all summed up in +the line he quotes:-- + + "The hand of Douglas is his own." + +It must be that in writing this Essay on Milton Emerson felt that he was +listening in his own soul to whispers that seemed like echoes from that +of the divine singer. + + * * * * * + +My friend, the Rev. James Freeman Clarke, a life-long friend of Emerson, +who understood him from the first, and was himself a great part in the +movement of which Emerson, more than any other man, was the leader, has +kindly allowed me to make use of the following letters:-- + + TO REV. JAMES F. CLARKE, LOUISVILLE, KY. + + PLYMOUTH, MASS., March 12, 1834. + + MY DEAR SIR,--As the day approaches when Mr. Lewis should leave + Boston, I seize a few moments in a friendly house in the first of + towns, to thank you heartily for your kindness in lending me the + valued manuscripts which I return. The translations excited me much, + and who can estimate the value of a good thought? I trust I am to + learn much more from you hereafter of your German studies, and much + I hope of your own. You asked in your note concerning Carlyle. My + recollections of him are most pleasant, and I feel great confidence + in his character. He understands and recognizes his mission. He is + perfectly simple and affectionate in his manner, and frank, as he + can well afford to be, in his communications. He expressed some + impatience of his total solitude, and talked of Paris as a + residence. I told him I hoped not; for I should always remember + him with respect, meditating in the mountains of Nithsdale. He was + cheered, as he ought to be, by learning that his papers were read + with interest by young men unknown to him in this continent; and + when I specified a piece which had attracted warm commendation from + the New Jerusalem people here, his wife said that is always the way; + whatever he has writ that he thinks has fallen dead, he hears of + two or three years afterward.--He has many, many tokens of Goethe's + regard, miniatures, medals, and many letters. If you should go to + Scotland one day, you would gratify him, yourself, and me, by your + visit to Craigenputtock, in the parish of Dunscore, near Dumfries. + He told me he had a book which he thought to publish, but was in + the purpose of dividing into a series of articles for "Fraser's + Magazine." I therefore subscribed for that book, which he calls the + "Mud Magazine," but have seen nothing of his workmanship in the two + last numbers. The mail is going, so I shall finish my letter another + time. + + Your obliged friend and servant, + + R. WALDO EMERSON. + + + CONCORD, MASS., November 25, 1834. + + MY DEAR SIR,--Miss Peabody has kindly sent me your manuscript piece + on Goethe and Carlyle. I have read it with great pleasure and a + feeling of gratitude, at the same time with a serious regret that it + was not published. I have forgotten what reason you assigned for not + printing it; I cannot think of any sufficient one. Is it too late + now? Why not change its form a little and annex to it some account + of Carlyle's later pieces, to wit: "Diderot," and "Sartor Resartus." + The last is complete, and he has sent it to me in a stitched + pamphlet. Whilst I see its vices (relatively to the reading public) + of style, I cannot but esteem it a noble philosophical poem, + reflecting the ideas, institutions, men of this very hour. And it + seems to me that it has so much wit and other secondary graces as + must strike a class who would not care for its primary merit, that + of being a sincere exhortation to seekers of truth. If you still + retain your interest in his genius (as I see not how you can avoid, + having understood it and cooperated with it so truly), you will be + glad to know that he values his American readers very highly; + that he does not defend this offensive style of his, but calls it + questionable tentative; that he is trying other modes, and is about + publishing a historical piece called "The Diamond Necklace," as a + part of a great work which he meditates on the subject of the French + Revolution. He says it is part of his creed that history is poetry, + could we tell it right. He adds, moreover, in a letter I have + recently received from him, that it has been an odd dream that he + might end in the western woods. Shall we not bid him come, and be + Poet and Teacher of a most scattered flock wanting a shepherd? Or, + as I sometimes think, would it not be a new and worse chagrin to + become acquainted with the extreme deadness of our community to + spiritual influences of the higher kind? Have you read Sampson + Reed's "Growth of the Mind"? I rejoice to be contemporary with that + man, and cannot wholly despair of the society in which he lives; + there must be some oxygen yet, and La Fayette is only just dead. + + Your friend, R. WALDO EMERSON. + + + It occurs to me that 't is unfit to send any white paper so far as + to your house, so you shall have a sentence from Carlyle's letter. + +[This may be found in Carlyle's first letter, dated 12th August, 1834.] +Dr. Le Baron Russell, an intimate friend of Emerson for the greater part +of his life, gives me some particulars with reference to the publication +of "Sartor Resartus," which I will repeat in his own words:-- + + "It was just before the time of which I am speaking [that of + Emerson's marriage] that the 'Sartor Resartus' appeared in 'Fraser.' + Emerson lent the numbers, or the collected sheets of 'Fraser,' to + Miss Jackson, and we all had the reading of them. The excitement + which the book caused among young persons interested in the + literature of the day at that time you probably remember. I was + quite carried away by it, and so anxious to own a copy, that I + determined to publish an American edition. I consulted James Munroe + & Co. on the subject. Munroe advised me to obtain a subscription to + a sufficient number of copies to secure the cost of the publication. + This, with the aid of some friends, particularly of my classmate, + William Silsbee, I readily succeeded in doing. When this was + accomplished, I wrote to Emerson, who up to this time had taken no + part in the enterprise, asking him to write a preface. (This is the + Preface which appears in the American edition, James Munroe & Co., + 1836. It was omitted in the third American from the second London + edition,[1] by the same publishers, 1840.) Before the first edition + appeared, and after the subscription had been secured, Munroe & Co. + offered to assume the whole responsibility of the publication, and + to this I assented. + + [Footnote 1: Revised and corrected by the author.] + + "This American edition of 1836 was the first appearance of the + 'Sartor' in either country, as a distinct edition. Some copies of + the sheets from 'Fraser,' it appears, were stitched together and sent + to a few persons, but Carlyle could find no English publisher willing + to take the responsibility of printing the book. This shows, I think, + how much more interest was taken in Carlyle's writings in this country + than in England." + +On the 14th of May, 1834, Emerson wrote to Carlyle the first letter of +that correspondence which has since been given to the world under the +careful editorship of Mr. Charles Norton. This correspondence lasted +from the date mentioned to the 2d of April, 1872, when Carlyle wrote his +last letter to Emerson. The two writers reveal themselves as being in +strong sympathy with each other, in spite of a radical difference of +temperament and entirely opposite views of life. The hatred of unreality +was uppermost with Carlyle; the love of what is real and genuine with +Emerson. Those old moralists, the weeping and the laughing philosophers, +find their counterparts in every thinking community. Carlyle did not +weep, but he scolded; Emerson did not laugh, but in his gravest moments +there was a smile waiting for the cloud to pass from his forehead. The +Duet they chanted was a Miserere with a Te Deum for its Antiphon; a _De_ +_Profundis_ answered by a _Sursum Corda_. "The ground of my existence +is black as death," says Carlyle. "Come and live with me a year," says +Emerson, "and if you do not like New England well enough to stay, one of +these years; (when the 'History' has passed its ten editions, and been +translated into as many languages) I will come and dwell with you." + + +Section 2. In September, 1835, Emerson was married to Miss Lydia +Jackson, of Plymouth, Massachusetts. The wedding took place in the fine +old mansion known as the Winslow House, Dr. Le Baron Russell and his +sister standing up with the bridegroom and his bride. After their +marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Emerson went to reside in the house in which +he passed the rest of his life, and in which Mrs. Emerson and their +daughter still reside. This is the "plain, square, wooden house," with +horse-chestnut trees in the front yard, and evergreens around it, which +has been so often described and figured. It is without pretensions, but +not without an air of quiet dignity. A full and well-illustrated account +of it and its arrangements and surroundings is given in "Poets' Homes," +by Arthur Gilman and others, published by D. Lothrop & Company in 1879. + +On the 12th of September, 1835, Emerson delivered an "Historical +Discourse, at Concord, on the Second Centennial Anniversary of +the Incorporation of the Town." There is no "mysticism," no +"transcendentalism" in this plain, straightforward Address. The facts +are collected and related with the patience and sobriety which became +the writer as one of the Dryasdusts of our very diligent, very useful, +very matter-of-fact, and for the most part judiciously unimaginative +Massachusetts Historical Society. It looks unlike anything else Emerson +ever wrote, in being provided with abundant foot-notes and an appendix. +One would almost as soon have expected to see Emerson equipped with +a musket and a knapsack as to find a discourse of his clogged with +annotations, and trailing a supplement after it. Oracles are brief and +final in their utterances. Delphi and Cumae are not expected to explain +what they say. + +It is the habit of our New England towns to celebrate their own worthies +and their own deeds on occasions like this, with more or less of +rhetorical gratitude and self-felicitation. The discourses delivered +on these occasions are commonly worth reading, for there was never a +clearing made in the forest that did not let in the light on heroes and +heroines. Concord is on the whole the most interesting of all the inland +towns of New England. Emerson has told its story in as painstaking, +faithful a way as if he had been by nature an annalist. But with this +fidelity, we find also those bold generalizations and sharp picturesque +touches which reveal the poetic philosopher. + + "I have read with care," he says, "the town records themselves. + They exhibit a pleasing picture of a community almost exclusively + agricultural, where no man has much time for words, in his search + after things; of a community of great simplicity of manners, and of + a manifest love of justice. I find our annals marked with a uniform + good sense.--The tone of the record rises with the dignity of the + event. These soiled and musty books are luminous and electric + within. The old town clerks did not spell very correctly, but + they contrive to make intelligible the will of a free and just + community." ... "The matters there debated (in town meetings) are + such as to invite very small consideration. The ill-spelled pages + of the town records contain the result. I shall be excused for + confessing that I have set a value upon any symptom of meanness and + private pique which I have met with in these antique books, as + proof that justice was done; that if the results of our history are + approved as wise and good, it was yet a free strife; if the + good counsel prevailed, the sneaking counsel did not fail to be + suggested; freedom and virtue, if they triumphed, triumphed in a + fair field. And so be it an everlasting testimony for them, and so + much ground of assurance of man's capacity for self-government." + +There was nothing in this Address which the plainest of Concord's +citizens could not read understandingly and with pleasure. In fact Mr. +Emerson himself, besides being a poet and a philosopher, was also a +plain Concord citizen. His son tells me that he was a faithful attendant +upon town meetings, and, though he never spoke, was an interested and +careful listener to the debates on town matters. That respect for +"mother-wit" and for all the wholesome human qualities which reveals +itself all through his writings was bred from this kind of intercourse +with men of sense who had no pretensions to learning, and in whom, for +that very reason, the native qualities came out with less disguise in +their expression. He was surrounded by men who ran to extremes in their +idiosyncrasies; Alcott in speculations, which often led him into the +fourth dimension of mental space; Hawthorne, who brooded himself into +a dream--peopled solitude; Thoreau, the nullifier of civilization, who +insisted on nibbling his asparagus at the wrong end, to say nothing of +idolaters and echoes. He kept his balance among them all. It would +be hard to find a more candid and sober record of the result of +self-government in a small community than is contained in this simple +discourse, patient in detail, large in treatment, more effective than +any unsupported generalities about the natural rights of man, which +amount to very little unless men earn the right of asserting them by +attending fairly to their natural duties. So admirably is the working of +a town government, as it goes on in a well-disposed community, displayed +in the history of Concord's two hundred years of village life, that +one of its wisest citizens had portions of the address printed +for distribution, as an illustration of the American principle of +self-government. + +After settling in Concord, Emerson delivered courses of Lectures in +Boston during several successive winters; in 1835, ten Lectures on +English Literature; in 1836, twelve Lectures on the Philosophy of +History; in 1837, ten Lectures on Human Culture. Some of these lectures +may have appeared in print under their original titles; all of them +probably contributed to the Essays and Discourses which we find in his +published volumes. + +On the 19th of April, 1836, a meeting was held to celebrate the +completion of the monument raised in commemoration of the Concord Fight. +For this occasion Emerson wrote the hymn made ever memorable by the +lines:-- + + Here once the embattled farmers stood, + And fired the shot heard round the world. + +The last line of this hymn quickens the heartbeats of every American, +and the whole hymn is admirable in thought and expression. Until the +autumn of 1838, Emerson preached twice on Sundays to the church at East +Lexington, which desired him to become its pastor. Mr. Cooke says that +when a lady of the society was asked why they did not settle a friend of +Emerson's whom he had urged them to invite to their pulpit, she replied: +"We are a very simple people, and can understand no one but Mr. +Emerson." He said of himself: "My pulpit is the Lyceum platform." +Knowing that he made his Sermons contribute to his Lectures, we need not +mourn over their not being reported. + +In March, 1837, Emerson delivered in Boston a Lecture on War, afterwards +published in Miss Peabody's "Aesthetic Papers." He recognizes war as one +of the temporary necessities of a developing civilization, to disappear +with the advance of mankind:-- + + "At a certain stage of his progress the man fights, if he be of a + sound body and mind. At a certain high stage he makes no offensive + demonstration, but is alert to repel injury, and of an unconquerable + heart. At a still higher stage he comes into the region of holiness; + passion has passed away from him; his warlike nature is all + converted into an active medicinal principle; he sacrifices himself, + and accepts with alacrity wearisome tasks of denial and charity; + but being attacked, he bears it, and turns the other cheek, as one + engaged, throughout his being, no longer to the service of an + individual, but to the common good of all men." + +In 1834 Emerson's brother Edward died, as already mentioned, in the West +India island where he had gone for his health. In his letter to Carlyle, +of November 12th of the same year, Emerson says: "Your letter, which +I received last week, made a bright light in a solitary and saddened +place. I had quite recently received the news of the death of a brother +in the island of Porto Rico, whose loss to me will be a lifelong +sorrow." It was of him that Emerson wrote the lines "In Memoriam," in +which he says,-- + + "There is no record left on earth + Save on tablets of the heart, + Of the rich, inherent worth, + Of the grace that on him shone + Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit; + He could not frame a word unfit, + An act unworthy to be done." + +Another bereavement was too soon to be recorded. On the 7th of October, +1835, he says in a letter to Carlyle:-- + + "I was very glad to hear of the brother you describe, for I have one + too, and know what it is to have presence in two places. Charles + Chauncy Emerson is a lawyer now settled in this town, and, as I + believe, no better Lord Hamlet was ever. He is our Doctor on + all questions of taste, manners, or action. And one of the pure + pleasures I promise myself in the months to come is to make you two + gentlemen know each other." + +Alas for human hopes and prospects! In less than a year from the date of +that letter, on the 17th of September, 1836, he writes to Carlyle:-- + + "Your last letter, dated in April, found me a mourner, as did your + first. I have lost out of this world my brother Charles, of whom I + have spoken to you,--the friend and companion of many years, the + inmate of my house, a man of a beautiful genius, born to speak well, + and whose conversation for these last years has treated every grave + question of humanity, and has been my daily bread. I have put so + much dependence on his gifts, that we made but one man together; for + I needed never to do what he could do by noble nature, much better + than I. He was to have been married in this month, and at the time + of his sickness and sudden death, I was adding apartments to my + house for his permanent accommodation. I wish that you could have + known him. At twenty-seven years the best life is only preparation. + He built his foundation so large that it needed the full age of + man to make evident the plan and proportions of his character. He + postponed always a particular to a final and absolute success, so + that his life was a silent appeal to the great and generous. But + some time I shall see you and speak of him." + + +Section 3. In the year 1836 there was published in Boston a little book +of less than a hundred very small pages, entitled "Nature." It bore no +name on its title-page, but was at once attributed to its real author, +Ralph Waldo Emerson. + +The Emersonian adept will pardon me for burdening this beautiful Essay +with a commentary which is worse than superfluous for him. For it has +proved for many,--I will not say a _pons asinorum_,--but a very narrow +bridge, which it made their heads swim to attempt crossing, and yet they +must cross it, or one domain of Emerson's intellect will not be reached. + +It differed in some respects from anything he had hitherto written. It +talked a strange sort of philosophy in the language of poetry. Beginning +simply enough, it took more and more the character of a rhapsody, until, +as if lifted off his feet by the deepened and stronger undercurrent of +his thought, the writer dropped his personality and repeated the words +which "a certain poet sang" to him. + +This little book met with a very unemotional reception. Its style was +peculiar,--almost as unlike that of his Essays as that of Carlyle's +"Sartor Resartus" was unlike the style of his "Life of Schiller." It was +vague, mystic, incomprehensible, to most of those who call themselves +common-sense people. Some of its expressions lent themselves easily to +travesty and ridicule. But the laugh could not be very loud or very +long, since it took twelve years, as Mr. Higginson tells us, to sell +five hundred copies. It was a good deal like Keats's + + "doubtful tale from fairy-land + Hard for the non-elect to understand." + +The same experience had been gone through by Wordsworth. + + "Whatever is too original," says De Quincey, "will be hated at the + first. It must slowly mould a public for itself; and the resistance + of the early thoughtless judgments must be overcome by a + counter-resistance to itself, in a better audience slowly mustering + against the first. Forty and seven years it is since William + Wordsworth first appeared as an author. Twenty of these years he was + the scoff of the world, and his poetry a by-word of scorn. Since + then, and more than once, senates have rung with acclamations to the + echo of his name." + +No writer is more deeply imbued with the spirit of Wordsworth than +Emerson, as we cannot fail to see in turning the pages of "Nature," his +first thoroughly characteristic Essay. There is the same thought in the +Preface to "The Excursion" that we find in the Introduction to "Nature." + + "The foregoing generations beheld God and nature face to face; + we through their eyes. Why should not we also enjoy an original + relation to the universe? Why should not we have a poetry and + philosophy of insight and not of tradition, and a religion by + revelation to us, and not the history of theirs?" + + "Paradise and groves + Elysian, Fortunate Fields--like those of old + Sought in the Atlantic Main, why should they be + A history only of departed things, + Or a mere fiction of what never was?" + +"Nature" is a reflective prose poem. It is divided into eight chapters, +which might almost as well have been called cantos. + +Never before had Mr. Emerson given free utterance to the passion with +which the aspects of nature inspired him. He had recently for the first +time been at once master of himself and in free communion with all the +planetary influences above, beneath, around him. The air of the country +intoxicated him. There are sentences in "Nature" which are as exalted +as the language of one who is just coming to himself after having been +etherized. Some of these expressions sounded to a considerable part of +his early readers like the vagaries of delirium. Yet underlying these +excited outbursts there was a general tone of serenity which reassured +the anxious. The gust passed over, the ripples smoothed themselves, and +the stars shone again in quiet reflection. + +After a passionate outbreak, in which he sees all, is nothing, loses +himself in nature, in Universal Being, becomes "part or particle of +God," he considers briefly, in the chapter entitled _Commodity_, the +ministry of nature to the senses. A few picturesque glimpses in pleasing +and poetical phrases, with a touch of archaism, and reminiscences of +Hamlet and Jeremy Taylor, "the Shakspeare of divines," as he has +called him, are what we find in this chapter on Commodity, or natural +conveniences. + +But "a nobler want of man is served by Nature, namely, the love +of _Beauty_" which is his next subject. There are some touches of +description here, vivid, high-colored, not so much pictures as hints and +impressions for pictures. + +Many of the thoughts which run through all his prose and poetry may be +found here. Analogy is seen everywhere in the works of Nature. "What is +common to them all,--that perfectness and harmony, is beauty."--"Nothing +is quite beautiful alone: nothing but is beautiful in the whole."--"No +reason can be asked or given why the soul seeks beauty." How easily +these same ideas took on the robe of verse may be seen in the Poems, +"Each and All," and "The Rhodora." A good deal of his philosophy comes +out in these concluding sentences of the chapter:-- + + "Beauty in its largest and profoundest sense is one expression for + the universe; God is the all-fair. Truth and goodness and beauty are + but different faces of the same All. But beauty in Nature is not + ultimate. It is the herald of inward and eternal beauty, and is not + alone a solid and satisfactory good. It must therefore stand as a + part and not as yet the highest expression of the final cause of + Nature.". + +In the "Rhodora" the flower is made to answer that + + "Beauty is its own excuse for being." + +In this Essay the beauty of the flower is not enough, but it must excuse +itself for being, mainly as the symbol of something higher and deeper +than itself. + +He passes next to a consideration of _Language_. Words are signs of +natural facts, particular material facts are symbols of particular +spiritual facts, and Nature is the symbol of spirit. Without going very +profoundly into the subject, he gives some hints as to the mode in +which languages are formed,--whence words are derived, how they become +transformed and worn out. But they come at first fresh from Nature. + + "A man conversing in earnest, if he watch his intellectual + processes, will find that always a material image, more or less + luminous, arises in his mind, contemporaneous with every thought, + which furnishes the vestment of the thought. Hence good writing and + brilliant discourse are perpetual allegories." + +From this he argues that country life is a great advantage to a powerful +mind, inasmuch as it furnishes a greater number of these material +images. They cannot be summoned at will, but they present themselves +when great exigencies call for them. + + "The poet, the orator, bred in the woods, whose senses have been + nourished by their fair and appeasing changes, year after year, + without design and without heed,--shall not lose their lesson + altogether, in the roar of cities or the broil of politics. Long + hereafter, amidst agitations and terror in national councils,--in + the hour of revolution,--these solemn images shall reappear in their + morning lustre, as fit symbols and words of the thought which the + passing events shall awaken. At the call of a noble sentiment, again + the woods wave, the pines murmur, the river rolls and shines, and + the cattle low upon the mountains, as he saw and heard them in his + infancy. And with these forms the spells of persuasion, the keys of + power, are put into his hands." + +It is doing no wrong to this very eloquent and beautiful passage to say +that it reminds us of certain lines in one of the best known poems of +Wordsworth:-- + + "These beauteous forms, + Through a long absence, have not been to me + As is a landscape to a blind man's eye; + But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din + Of towns and cities, I have owed to them + In hours of weariness sensations sweet + Felt in the blood and felt along the heart." + +It is needless to quote the whole passage. The poetry of Wordsworth may +have suggested the prose of Emerson, but the prose loses nothing by the +comparison. + +In _Discipline_, which is his next subject, he treats of the influence +of Nature in educating the intellect, the moral sense, and the will. +Man is enlarged and the universe lessened and brought within his grasp, +because + + "Time and space relations vanish as laws are known."--"The moral + law lies at the centre of Nature and radiates to the + circumference."--"All things with which we deal preach to us. + What is a farm but a mute gospel?"--"From the child's successive + possession of his several senses up to the hour when he sayeth, 'Thy + will be done!' he is learning the secret that he can reduce under + his will, not only particular events, but great classes, nay, the + whole series of events, and so conform all facts to his character." + +The unity in variety which meets us everywhere is again referred to. +He alludes to the ministry of our friendships to our education. When a +friend has done for our education in the way of filling our minds with +sweet and solid wisdom "it is a sign to us that his office is closing, +and he is commonly withdrawn from our sight in a short time." This +thought was probably suggested by the death of his brother Charles, +which occurred a few months before "Nature" was published. He had +already spoken in the first chapter of this little book as if from some +recent experience of his own, doubtless the same bereavement. "To a man +laboring under calamity, the heat of his own fire hath sadness in it. +Then there is a kind of contempt of the landscape felt by him who has +just lost by death a dear friend. The sky is less grand as it shuts down +over less worth in the population." This was the first effect of the +loss; but after a time he recognizes a superintending power which orders +events for us in wisdom which we could not see at first. + +The chapter on _Idealism_ must be read by all who believe themselves +capable of abstract thought, if they would not fall under the judgment +of Turgot, which Emerson quotes: "He that has never doubted the +existence of matter may be assured he has no aptitude for metaphysical +inquiries." The most essential statement is this:-- + + "It is a sufficient account of that Appearance we call the World, + that God will teach a human mind, and so makes it the receiver of a + certain number of congruent sensations, which we call sun and moon, + man and woman, house and trade. In my utter impotence to test + the authenticity of the report of my senses, to know whether the + impressions they make on me correspond with outlying objects, what + difference does it make, whether Orion is up there in Heaven, or + some god paints the image in the firmament of the Soul?" + +We need not follow the thought through the argument from illusions, like +that when we look at the shore from a moving ship, and others which +cheat the senses by false appearances. + +The poet animates Nature with his own thoughts, perceives the affinities +between Nature and the soul, with Beauty as his main end. The +philosopher pursues Truth, but, "not less than the poet, postpones +the apparent order and relation of things to the empire of thought." +Religion and ethics agree with all lower culture in degrading Nature +and suggesting its dependence on Spirit. "The devotee flouts +Nature."--"Plotinus was ashamed of his body."--"Michael Angelo said of +external beauty, 'it is the frail and weary weed, in which God dresses +the soul, which He has called into time.'" Emerson would not +undervalue Nature as looked at through the senses and "the unrenewed +understanding." "I have no hostility to Nature," he says, "but a +child's love of it. I expand and live in the warm day like corn and +melons."--But, "seen in the light of thought, the world always is +phenomenal; and virtue subordinates it to the mind. Idealism sees the +world in God,"--as one vast picture, which God paints on the instant +eternity, for the contemplation of the soul. + +The unimaginative reader is likely to find himself off soundings in the +next chapter, which has for its title _Spirit_. + +Idealism only denies the existence of matter; it does not satisfy the +demands of the spirit. "It leaves God out of me."--Of these three +questions, What is matter? Whence is it? Where to? The ideal theory +answers the first only. The reply is that matter is a phenomenon, not a +substance. + + "But when we come to inquire Whence is matter? and Whereto? many + truths arise to us out of the recesses of consciousness. We learn + that the highest is present to the soul of man, that the dread + universal essence, which is not wisdom, or love, or beauty, or + power, but all in one, and each entirely, is that for which all + things exist, and that by which they are; that spirit creates; that + behind nature, throughout nature, spirit is present; that spirit is + one and not compound; that spirit does not act upon us from + without, that is, in space and time, but spiritually, or through + ourselves."--"As a plant upon the earth, so a man rests upon the + bosom of God; he is nourished by unfailing fountains, and draws, at + his need, inexhaustible power." + +Man may have access to the entire mind of the Creator, himself become a +"creator in the finite." + + "As we degenerate, the contrast between us and our house is more + evident. We are as much strangers in nature as we are aliens from + God. We do not understand the notes of birds. The fox and the deer + run away from us; the bear and the tiger rend us." + +All this has an Old Testament sound as of a lost Paradise. In the next +chapter he dreams of Paradise regained. + +This next and last chapter is entitled _Prospects_. He begins with +a bold claim for the province of intuition as against induction, +undervaluing the "half sight of science" as against the "untaught +sallies of the spirit," the surmises and vaticinations of the mind,--the +"imperfect theories, and sentences which contain glimpses of truth." In +a word, he would have us leave the laboratory and its crucibles for +the sibyl's cave and its tripod. We can all--or most of us, +certainly--recognize something of truth, much of imagination, and more +of danger in speculations of this sort. They belong to visionaries and +to poets. Emerson feels distinctly enough that he is getting into the +realm of poetry. He quotes five beautiful verses from George Herbert's +"Poem on Man." Presently he is himself taken off his feet into the air +of song, and finishes his Essay with "some traditions of man and nature +which a certain poet sang to me."--"A man is a god in ruins."--"Man is +the dwarf of himself. Once he was permeated and dissolved by spirit. He +filled nature with his overflowing currents. Out from him sprang the +sun and moon; from man the sun, from woman the moon."--But he no longer +fills the mere shell he had made for himself; "he is shrunk to a drop." +Still something of elemental power remains to him. "It is instinct." +Such teachings he got from his "poet." It is a kind of New England +Genesis in place of the Old Testament one. We read in the Sermon on the +Mount: "Be ye therefore perfect as your Father in Heaven is perfect." +The discourse which comes to us from the Trimount oracle commands us, +"Build, therefore, your own world. As fast as you conform your life to +the pure idea in your mind, that will unfold its great proportions." The +seer of Patmos foretells a heavenly Jerusalem, of which he says, "There +shall in no wise enter into it anything which defileth." The sage of +Concord foresees a new heaven on earth. "A correspondent revolution in +things will attend the influx of the spirit. So fast will disagreeable +appearances, swine, spiders, snakes, pests, mad-houses, prisons, +enemies, vanish; they are temporary and shall be no more seen." + + * * * * * + +It may be remembered that Calvin, in his Commentary on the New +Testament, stopped when he came to the book of the "Revelation." He +found it full of difficulties which he did not care to encounter. Yet, +considered only as a poem, the vision of St. John is full of noble +imagery and wonderful beauty. "Nature" is the Book of Revelation of our +Saint Radulphus. It has its obscurities, its extravagances, but as a +poem it is noble and inspiring. It was objected to on the score of its +pantheistic character, as Wordsworth's "Lines composed near Tintern +Abbey" had been long before. But here and there it found devout readers +who were captivated by its spiritual elevation and great poetical +beauty, among them one who wrote of it in the "Democratic Review" in +terms of enthusiastic admiration. + +Mr. Bowen, the Professor of Natural Theology and Moral Philosophy +in Harvard University, treated this singular semi-philosophical, +semi-poetical little book in a long article in the "Christian Examiner," +headed "Transcendentalism," and published in the January number for +1837. The acute and learned Professor meant to deal fairly with his +subject. But if one has ever seen a sagacious pointer making the +acquaintance of a box-tortoise, he will have an idea of the relations +between the reviewer and the reviewed as they appear in this article. +The professor turns the book over and over,--inspects it from plastron +to carapace, so to speak, and looks for openings everywhere, sometimes +successfully, sometimes in vain. He finds good writing and sound +philosophy, passages of great force and beauty of expression, marred by +obscurity, under assumptions and faults of style. He was not, any more +than the rest of us, acclimated to the Emersonian atmosphere, and after +some not unjust or unkind comments with which many readers will heartily +agree, confesses his bewilderment, saying:-- + + "On reviewing what we have already said of this singular work, the + criticism seems to be couched in contradictory terms; we can only + allege in excuse the fact that the book is a contradiction in + itself." + +Carlyle says in his letter of February 13, 1837:-- + + "Your little azure-colored 'Nature' gave me true satisfaction. I + read it, and then lent it about to all my acquaintances that had a + sense for such things; from whom a similar verdict always came back. + You say it is the first chapter of something greater. I call it + rather the Foundation and Ground-plan on which you may build + whatsoever of great and true has been given you to build. It is the + true Apocalypse, this when the 'Open Secret' becomes revealed to a + man. I rejoice much in the glad serenity of soul with which you look + out on this wondrous Dwelling-place of yours and mine,--with an ear + for the _Ewigen Melodien_, which pipe in the winds round us, and + utter themselves forth in all sounds and sights and things; _not_ to + be written down by gamut-machinery; but which all right writing is a + kind of attempt to write down." + +The first edition of "Nature" had prefixed to it the following words +from Plotinus: "Nature is but an image or imitation of wisdom, the last +thing of the soul; Nature being a thing which doth only do, but not +know." This is omitted in after editions, and in its place we read:-- + + "A subtle chain of countless rings + The next unto the farthest brings; + The eye reads omens where it goes, + And speaks all languages the rose; + And striving to be man, the worm + Mounts through all the spires of form." + +The copy of "Nature" from which I take these lines, his own, of course, +like so many others which he prefixed to his different Essays, was +printed in the year 1849, ten years before the publication of Darwin's +"Origin of Species," twenty years and more before the publication of +"The Descent of Man." But the "Vestiges of Creation," published in 1844, +had already popularized the resuscitated theories of Lamarck. It seems +as if Emerson had a warning from the poetic instinct which, when it does +not precede the movement of the scientific intellect, is the first to +catch the hint of its discoveries. There is nothing more audacious in +the poet's conception of the worm looking up towards humanity, than +the naturalist's theory that the progenitor of the human race was an +acephalous mollusk. "I will not be sworn," says Benedick, "but love may +transform me to an oyster." For "love" read science. + +Unity in variety, "_il piu nell uno_" symbolism of Nature and its +teachings, generation of phenomena,--appearances,--from spirit, to +which they correspond and which they obey; evolution of the best and +elimination of the worst as the law of being; all this and much more may +be found in the poetic utterances of this slender Essay. It fell like an +aerolite, unasked for, unaccounted for, unexpected, almost unwelcome,--a +stumbling-block to be got out of the well-trodden highway of New England +scholastic intelligence. But here and there it found a reader to whom it +was, to borrow, with slight changes, its own quotation,-- + + "The golden key + Which opes the palace of eternity," + +inasmuch as it carried upon its face the highest certificate of truth, +because it animated them to create a new world for themselves through +the purification of their own souls. + +Next to "Nature" in the series of his collected publications comes "The +American Scholar. An Oration delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society +at Cambridge, August 31, 1837." + +The Society known by these three letters, long a mystery to the +uninitiated, but which, filled out and interpreted, signify that +philosophy is the guide of life, is one of long standing, the +annual meetings of which have called forth the best efforts of many +distinguished scholars and thinkers. Rarely has any one of the annual +addresses been listened to with such profound attention and interest. +Mr. Lowell says of it, that its delivery "was an event without any +former parallel in our literary annals, a scene to be always treasured +in the memory for its picturesqueness and its inspiration. What crowded +and breathless aisles, what windows clustering with eager heads, what +enthusiasm of approval, what grim silence of foregone dissent!" + +Mr. Cooke says truly of this oration, that nearly all his leading ideas +found expression in it. This was to be expected in an address delivered +before such an audience. Every real thinker's world of thought has its +centre in a few formulae, about which they revolve as the planets circle +round the sun which cast them off. But those who lost themselves now and +then in the pages of "Nature" will find their way clearly enough through +those of "The American Scholar." It is a plea for generous culture; +for the development of all the faculties, many of which tend to become +atrophied by the exclusive pursuit of single objects of thought. It +begins with a note like a trumpet call. + + "Thus far," he says, "our holiday has been simply a friendly sign + of the survival of the love of letters amongst a people too busy to + give to letters any more. As such it is precious as the sign of an + indestructible instinct. Perhaps the time is already come when + it ought to be, and will be, something else; when the sluggard + intellect of this continent will look from under its iron lids and + fill the postponed expectations of the world with something better + than the exertions of mechanical skill. Our day of dependence, our + long apprenticeship to the learning of other lands, draws to a + close. The millions that around us are rushing into life cannot + always be fed on the sere remains of foreign harvests. Events, + actions arise, that must be sung, that will sing themselves. Who can + doubt that poetry will revive and lead in a new age, as the star in + the constellation Harp, which now flames in our zenith, astronomers + announce shall one day be the pole-star for a thousand years?" + +Emerson finds his text in the old fable which tells that Man, as he was +in the beginning, was divided into men, as the hand was divided into +fingers, the better to answer the end of his being. The fable covers the +doctrine that there is One Man; present to individuals only in a partial +manner; and that we must take the whole of society to find the whole +man. Unfortunately the unit has been too minutely subdivided, and many +faculties are practically lost for want of use. "The state of society is +one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and +strut about so many walking monsters,--a good finger, a neck, a stomach, +an elbow, but never a man.... Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, +into many things.... The priest becomes a form; the attorney a statute +book; the mechanic a machine; the sailor a rope of the ship." + +This complaint is by no means a new one. Scaliger says, as quoted +by omnivorous old Burton: "_Nequaquam, nos homines sumus sed partes +hominis_." The old illustration of this used to be found in pin-making. +It took twenty different workmen to make a pin, beginning with drawing +the wire and ending with sticking in the paper. Each expert, skilled +in one small performance only, was reduced to a minute fraction of a +fraction of humanity. If the complaint was legitimate in Scaliger's +time, it was better founded half a century ago when Mr. Emerson found +cause for it. It has still more serious significance to-day, when +in every profession, in every branch of human knowledge, special +acquirements, special skill have greatly tended to limit the range of +men's thoughts and working faculties. + + "In this distribution of functions the scholar is the delegated + intellect. In the right state he is _Man thinking_. In the + degenerate state, when the victim of society, he tends to become a + mere thinker, or still worse, the parrot of other men's thinking. + In this view of him, as Man thinking, the theory of his office is + continued. Him Nature solicits with all her placid, all her monitory + pictures; him the past instructs; him the future invites." + +Emerson proceeds to describe and illustrate the influences of nature +upon the mind, returning to the strain of thought with which his +previous Essay has made us familiar. He next considers the influence of +the past, and especially of books as the best type of that influence. +"Books are the best of things well used; abused among the worst." It is +hard to distil what is already a quintessence without loss of what is +just as good as the product of our labor. A sentence or two may serve to +give an impression of the epigrammatic wisdom of his counsel. + + "Each age must write its own books, or, rather, each generation + for the next succeeding. The books of an older period will not fit + this." + +When a book has gained a certain hold on the mind, it is liable to +become an object of idolatrous regard. + + "Instantly the book becomes noxious: the guide is a tyrant. The + sluggish and perverted mind of the multitude, slow to open to the + incursions of reason, having once so opened, having received this + book, stands upon it and makes an outcry if it is disparaged. + Colleges are built on it. Books are written on it by thinkers, not + by Man thinking; by men of talent, that is, who start wrong, who set + out from accepted dogmas, not from their own sight of principle. + Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to + accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon have given; + forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in + libraries when they wrote these books.--One must he an inventor to + read well. As the proverb says, 'He that would bring home the wealth + of the Indies must carry out the wealth of the Indies.'--When the + mind is braced by labor and invention, the page of whatever book + we read becomes luminous with manifold allusion. Every sentence is + doubly significant, and the sense of our author is as broad as the + world." + +It is not enough that the scholar should be a student of nature and of +books. He must take a part in the affairs of the world about him. + + "Action is with the scholar subordinate, but it is essential. + Without it he is not yet man. Without it thought can never ripen + into truth.--The true scholar grudges every opportunity of action + past by, as a loss of power. It is the raw material out of which the + intellect moulds her splendid products. A strange process, too, this + by which experience is converted into thought as a mulberry leaf is + converted into satin. The manufacture goes forward at all hours." + +Emerson does not use the words "unconscious cerebration," but these +last words describe the process in an unmistakable way. The beautiful +paragraph in which he pictures the transformation, the transfiguration +of experience, closes with a sentence so thoroughly characteristic, so +Emersonially Emersonian, that I fear some readers who thought they were +his disciples when they came to it went back and walked no more with +him, at least through the pages of this discourse. The reader shall have +the preceding sentence to prepare him for the one referred to. + + "There is no fact, no event in our private history, which shall not, + sooner or later, lose its adhesive, inert form, and astonish us by + soaring from our body into the empyrean. + + "Cradle and infancy, school and playground, the fear of boys, and + dogs, and ferules, the love of little maids and berries, and many + another fact that once filled the whole sky, are gone already; + friend and relative, professions and party, town and country, nation + and world must also soar and sing." + +Having spoken of the education of the scholar by nature, by books, by +action, he speaks of the scholar's duties. "They may all," he says, "be +comprised in self-trust." We have to remember that the _self_ he means +is the highest self, that consciousness which he looks upon as open to +the influx of the divine essence from which it came, and towards which +all its upward tendencies lead, always aspiring, never resting; as he +sings in "The Sphinx ":-- + + "The heavens that now draw him + With sweetness untold, + Once found,--for new heavens + He spurneth the old." + + "First one, then another, we drain all cisterns, and waxing greater + by all these supplies, we crave a better and more abundant food. The + man has never lived that can feed us ever. The human mind cannot be + enshrined in a person who shall set a barrier on any one side of + this unbounded, unboundable empire. It is one central fire, which, + flaming now out of the lips of Etna, lightens the Capes of Sicily, + and now out of the throat of Vesuvius, illuminates the towers and + vineyards of Naples. It is one light which beams out of a thousand + stars. It is one soul which animates all men." + +And so he comes to the special application of the principles he has laid +down to the American scholar of to-day. He does not spare his censure; +he is full of noble trust and manly courage. Very refreshing it is +to remember in this day of specialists, when the walking fraction of +humanity he speaks of would hardly include a whole finger, but rather +confine itself to the single joint of the finger, such words as these:-- + + "The scholar is that man who must take up into himself all the + ability of the time, all the contributions of the past, all the + hopes of the future. He must he a university of knowledges.... We + have listened too long to the courtly muses of Europe. The spirit of + the American freeman is already suspected to be timid, imitative, + tame.--The scholar is decent, indolent, complaisant.--The mind of + this country, taught to aim at low objects, eats upon itself. There + is no work for any but the decorous and the complaisant." + +The young men of promise are discouraged and disgusted. + + "What is the remedy? They did not yet see, and thousands of young + men as hopeful now crowding to the barriers for the career do not + yet see, that if the single man plant himself indomitably on his + instincts, and there abide, the huge world will come round to him." + +Each man must be a unit,--must yield that peculiar fruit which he was +created to bear. + + "We will walk on our own feet; we will work with our own hands; + we will speak our own minds.--A nation of men will for the first + time exist, because each believes himself inspired by the + Divine Soul which also inspires all men." + +This grand Oration was our intellectual Declaration of Independence. +Nothing like it had been heard in the halls of Harvard since Samuel +Adams supported the affirmative of the question, "Whether it be lawful +to resist the chief magistrate, if the commonwealth cannot otherwise be +preserved." It was easy to find fault with an expression here and there. +The dignity, not to say the formality of an Academic assembly was +startled by the realism that looked for the infinite in "the meal in the +firkin; the milk in the pan." They could understand the deep thoughts +suggested by "the meanest flower that blows," but these domestic +illustrations had a kind of nursery homeliness about them which the +grave professors and sedate clergymen were unused to expect on so +stately an occasion. But the young men went out from it as if a prophet +had been proclaiming to them "Thus saith the Lord." No listener ever +forgot that Address, and among all the noble utterances of the speaker +it may be questioned if one ever contained more truth in language more +like that of immediate inspiration. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +1838-1843. AET. 35-40. + +Section 1. Divinity School Address.--Correspondence.--Lectures on Human +Life.--Letters to James Freeman Clarke.--Dartmouth College Address: +Literary Ethics.--Waterville College Address: The Method of +Nature.--Other Addresses: Man the Reformer.--Lecture on the Times.--The +Conservative.--The Transcendentalist.--Boston "Transcendentalism."--"The +Dial."--Brook Farm. + +Section 2. First Series of Essays published.--Contents: History, +Self-Reliance, Compensation, Spiritual Laws, Love, Friendship, Prudence, +Heroism, The Oversoul, Circles, Intellect, Art.--Emerson's Account +of his Mode of Life in a Letter to Carlyle.--Death of Emerson's +Son.--Threnody. + + +Section 1. On Sunday evening, July 15, 1838, Emerson delivered an +Address before the Senior Class in Divinity College, Cambridge, +which caused a profound sensation in religious circles, and led to a +controversy, in which Emerson had little more than the part of Patroclus +when the Greeks and Trojans fought over his body. In its simplest +and broadest statement this discourse was a plea for the individual +consciousness as against all historical creeds, bibles, churches; for +the soul as the supreme judge in spiritual matters. + +He begins with a beautiful picture which must be transferred without the +change of an expression:-- + + "In this refulgent Summer, it has been a luxury to draw the breath + of life. The grass grows, the buds burst, the meadow is spotted with + fire and gold in the tint of flowers. The air is full of birds, and + sweet with the breath of the pine, the balm of Gilead, and the new + hay. Night brings no gloom to the heart with its welcome shade. + Through the transparent darkness the stars pour their almost + spiritual rays. Man under them seems a young child, and his huge + globe a toy. The cool night bathes the world as with a river, and + prepares his eyes again for the crimson dawn." + +How softly the phrases of the gentle iconoclast steal upon the ear, +and how they must have hushed the questioning audience into pleased +attention! The "Song of Songs, which is Solomon's," could not have wooed +the listener more sweetly. "Thy lips drop as the honeycomb: honey and +milk are under thy tongue, and the smell of thy garments is like the +smell of Lebanon." And this was the prelude of a discourse which, when +it came to be printed, fared at the hands of many a theologian, who did +not think himself a bigot, as the roll which Baruch wrote with ink from +the words of Jeremiah fared at the hands of Jehoiakim, the King of +Judah. He listened while Jehudi read the opening passages. But "when +Jehudi had read three or four leaves he cut it with the penknife, and +cast it into the fire that was on the hearth, until all the roll was +consumed in the fire that was on the hearth." Such was probably the fate +of many a copy of this famous discourse. + +It is reverential, but it is also revolutionary. The file-leaders of +Unitarianism drew back in dismay, and the ill names which had often been +applied to them were now heard from their own lips as befitting this +new heresy; if so mild a reproach as that of heresy belonged to this +alarming manifesto. And yet, so changed is the whole aspect of the +theological world since the time when that discourse was delivered that +it is read as calmly to-day as a common "Election Sermon," if such are +ever read at all. A few extracts, abstracts, and comments may give the +reader who has not the Address before him some idea of its contents and +its tendencies. + +The material universe, which he has just pictured in its summer beauty, +deserves our admiration. But when the mind opens and reveals the laws +which govern the world of phenomena, it shrinks into a mere fable and +illustration of this mind. What am I? What is?--are questions always +asked, never fully answered. We would study and admire forever. + +But above intellectual curiosity, there is the sentiment of virtue. Man +is born for the good, for the perfect, low as he now lies in evil and +weakness. "The sentiment of virtue is a reverence and delight in the +presence of certain divine laws.--These laws refuse to be adequately +stated.--They elude our persevering thought; yet we read them hourly in +each other's faces, in each other's actions, in our own remorse.--The +intuition of the moral sentiment is an insight of the perfection of +the laws of the soul. These laws execute themselves.--As we are, so we +associate. The good, by affinity, seek the good; the vile, by affinity, +the vile. Thus, of their own volition, souls proceed into heaven, into +hell." + +These facts, Emerson says, have always suggested to man that the +world is the product not of manifold power, but of one will, of one +mind,--that one mind is everywhere active.--"All things proceed out of +the same spirit, and all things conspire with it." While a man seeks +good ends, nature helps him; when he seeks other ends, his being +shrinks, "he becomes less and less, a mote, a point, until absolute +badness is absolute death."--"When he says 'I ought;' when love warms +him; when he chooses, warned from on high, the good and great deed; then +deep melodies wander through his soul from Supreme Wisdom." + + "This sentiment lies at the foundation of society and successively + creates all forms of worship.--This thought dwelled always deepest + in the minds of men in the devout and contemplative East; not alone in + Palestine, where it reached its purest expression, but in Egypt, + in Persia, in India, in China. Europe has always owed to Oriental + genius its divine impulses. What these holy bards said, all sane men + found agreeable and true. And the unique impression of Jesus upon + mankind, whose name is not so much written as ploughed into the + history of this world, is proof of the subtle virtue of this + infusion." + +But this truth cannot be received at second hand; it is an intuition. +What another announces, I must find true in myself, or I must reject +it. If the word of another is taken instead of this primary faith, the +church, the state, art, letters, life, all suffer degradation,--"the +doctrine of inspiration is lost; the base doctrine of the majority of +voices usurps the place of the doctrine of the soul." + +The following extract will show the view that he takes of Christianity +and its Founder, and sufficiently explain the antagonism called forth by +the discourse:-- + + "Jesus Christ belonged to the true race of prophets. He saw with + open eye the mystery of the soul. Drawn by its severe harmony, + ravished with its beauty, he lived in it, and had his being there. + Alone in all history he estimated the greatness of man. One man was + true to what is in you and me. He saw that God incarnates himself in + man, and evermore goes forth anew to take possession of his World. + He said, in this jubilee of sublime emotion, 'I am Divine. Through + me God acts; through me, speaks. Would you see God, see me; or see + thee, when thou also thinkest as I now think.' But what a distortion + did his doctrine and memory suffer in the same, in the next, and the + following ages! There is no doctrine of the Reason which will bear + to be taught by the Understanding. The understanding caught this + high chant from the poet's lips, and said, in the next age, 'This + was Jehovah come down out of heaven. I will kill you if you say + he was a man.' The idioms of his language and the figures of his + rhetoric have usurped the place of his truth; and churches are not + built on his principles, but on his tropes. Christianity became a + Mythus, as the poetic teaching of Greece and of Egypt, before. He + spoke of Miracles; for he felt that man's life was a miracle, and + all that man doth, and he knew that this miracle shines as the + character ascends. But the word Miracle, as pronounced by Christian + churches, gives a false impression; it is Monster. It is not one + with the blowing clover and the falling rain." + +He proceeds to point out what he considers the great defects of +historical Christianity. It has exaggerated the personal, the positive, +the ritual. It has wronged mankind by monopolizing all virtues for the +Christian name. It is only by his holy thoughts that Jesus serves us. +"To aim to convert a man by miracles is a profanation of the soul." The +preachers do a wrong to Jesus by removing him from our human sympathies; +they should not degrade his life and dialogues by insulation and +peculiarity. + +Another defect of the traditional and limited way of using the mind of +Christ is that the Moral Nature--the Law of Laws--is not explored as the +fountain of the established teaching in society. "Men have come to speak +of the revelation as somewhat long ago given and done, as if God were +dead."--"The soul is not preached. The church seems to totter to its +fall, almost all life extinct.--The stationariness of religion; the +assumption that the age of inspiration is past; that the Bible is +closed; the fear of degrading the character of Jesus by representing +him as a man; indicate with sufficient clearness the falsehood of our +theology. It is the office of a true teacher to show us that God is, not +was; that he speaketh, not spake. The true Christianity--a faith like +Christ's in the infinitude of Man--is lost." + +When Emerson came to what his earlier ancestors would have called the +"practical application," some of his young hearers must have been +startled at the style of his address. + + "Yourself a new--born bard of the Holy Ghost, cast behind you all + conformity, and acquaint men at first hand with Deity. Look to it + first and only, that fashion, custom, authority, pleasure, and + money are nothing to you,--are not bandages over your eyes, that + you cannot see,--but live with the privilege of the + immeasurable mind." + +Emerson recognizes two inestimable advantages as the gift of +Christianity; first the Sabbath,--hardly a Christian institution,--and +secondly the institution of preaching. He spoke not only eloquently, but +with every evidence of deep sincerity and conviction. He had sacrificed +an enviable position to that inner voice of duty which he now proclaimed +as the sovereign law over all written or spoken words. But he was +assailing the cherished beliefs of those before him, and of Christendom +generally; not with hard or bitter words, not with sarcasm or levity, +rather as one who felt himself charged with a message from the same +divinity who had inspired the prophets and evangelists of old with +whatever truth was in their messages. He might be wrong, but his words +carried the evidence of his own serene, unshaken confidence that the +spirit of all truth was with him. Some of his audience, at least, must +have felt the contrast between his utterances and the formal discourses +they had so long listened to, and said to themselves, "he speaks 'as one +having authority, and not as the Scribes.'" + +Such teaching, however, could not be suffered to go unchallenged. Its +doctrines were repudiated in the "Christian Examiner," the leading organ +of the Unitarian denomination. The Rev. Henry Ware, greatly esteemed +and honored, whose colleague he had been, addressed a letter to him, in +which he expressed the feeling that some of the statements of Emerson's +discourse would tend to overthrow the authority and influence of +Christianity. To this note Emerson returned the following answer:-- + + "What you say about the discourse at Divinity College is just what I + might expect from your truth and charity, combined with your known + opinions. I am not a stick or a stone, as one said in the old time, + and could not but feel pain in saying some things in that place and + presence which I supposed would meet with dissent, I may say, of + dear friends and benefactors of mine. Yet, as my conviction is + perfect in the substantial truth of the doctrines of this discourse, + and is not very new, you will see at once that it must appear very + important that it be spoken; and I thought I could not pay the + nobleness of my friends so mean a compliment as to suppress my + opposition to their supposed views, out of fear of offence. I would + rather say to them, these things look thus to me, to you otherwise. + Let us say our uttermost word, and let the all-pervading truth, as + it surely will, judge between us. Either of us would, I doubt not, + be willingly apprised of his error. Meantime, I shall be admonished + by this expression of your thought, to revise with greater care the + 'address,' before it is printed (for the use of the class): and I + heartily thank you for this expression of your tried toleration and + love." + +Dr. Ware followed up his note with a sermon, preached on the 23d of +September, in which he dwells especially on the necessity of adding the +idea of personality to the abstractions of Emerson's philosophy, and +sent it to him with a letter, the kindness and true Christian spirit of +which were only what were inseparable from all the thoughts and feelings +of that most excellent and truly apostolic man. + +To this letter Emerson sent the following reply:-- + + CONCORD, October 8, 1838. + + "MY DEAR SIR,--I ought sooner to have acknowledged your kind letter + of last week, and the sermon it accompanied. The letter was right + manly and noble. The sermon, too, I have read with attention. If it + assails any doctrine of mine,--perhaps I am not so quick to see it + as writers generally,--certainly I did not feel any disposition + to depart from my habitual contentment, that you should say your + thought, whilst I say mine. I believe I must tell you what I think + of my new position. It strikes me very oddly that good and wise men + at Cambridge and Boston should think of raising me into an object of + criticism. I have always been--from my very incapacity of methodical + writing--a 'chartered libertine,' free to worship and free to + rail,--lucky when I could make myself understood, but never esteemed + near enough to the institutions and mind of society to deserve the + notice of the masters of literature and religion. I have appreciated + fully the advantages of my position, for I well know there is no + scholar less willing or less able than myself to be a polemic. I + could not give an account of myself, if challenged. I could not + possibly give you one of the 'arguments' you cruelly hint at, on + which any doctrine of mine stands; for I do not know what arguments + are in reference to any expression of a thought. I delight in + telling what I think; but if you ask me how I dare say so, or why it + is so, I am the most helpless of mortal men. I do not even see + that either of these questions admits of an answer. So that in the + present droll posture of my affairs, when I see myself suddenly + raised to the importance of a heretic, I am very uneasy when I + advert to the supposed duties of such a personage, who is to make + good his thesis against all comers. I certainly shall do no such + thing. I shall read what you and other good men write, as I have + always done, glad when you speak my thoughts, and skipping the + page that has nothing for me. I shall go on just as before, seeing + whatever I can, and telling what I see; and, I suppose, with the + same fortune that has hitherto attended me,--the joy of finding that + my abler and better brothers, who work with the sympathy of society, + loving and beloved, do now and then unexpectedly confirm my + conceptions, and find my nonsense is only their own thought in + motley,--and so I am your affectionate servant," etc. + +The controversy which followed is a thing of the past; Emerson took no +part in it, and we need not return to the discussion. He knew his +office and has defined it in the clearest manner in the letter just +given,--"Seeing whatever I can, and telling what I see." But among his +listeners and readers was a man of very different mental constitution, +not more independent or fearless, but louder and more combative, whose +voice soon became heard and whose strength soon began to be felt in the +long battle between the traditional and immanent inspiration,--Theodore +Parker. If Emerson was the moving spirit, he was the right arm in the +conflict, which in one form or another has been waged up to the present +day. + +In the winter of 1838-39 Emerson delivered his usual winter course +of Lectures. He names them in a letter to Carlyle as follows: "Ten +Lectures: I. The Doctrine of the Soul; II. Home; III. The School; IV. +Love; V. Genius; VI. The Protest; VII. Tragedy; VIII. Comedy; IX. Duty; +X. Demonology. I designed to add two more, but my lungs played me false +with unseasonable inflammation, so I discoursed no more on Human Life." +Two or three of these titles only are prefixed to his published Lectures +or Essays; Love, in the first volume of Essays; Demonology in "Lectures +and Biographical Sketches;" and "The Comic" in "Letters and Social +Aims." + + * * * * * + +I owe the privilege of making use of the two following letters to my +kind and honored friend, James Freeman Clarke. + +The first letter was accompanied by the Poem "The Humble-bee," which +was first published by Mr. Clarke in the "Western Messenger," from the +autograph copy, which begins "Fine humble-bee! fine humble-bee!" and has +a number of other variations from the poem as printed in his collected +works. + + CONCORD, December 7, 1838. + + MY DEAR SIR,--Here are the verses. They have pleased some of my + friends, and so may please some of your readers, and you asked me + in the spring if I hadn't somewhat to contribute to your journal. I + remember in your letter you mentioned the remark of some friend of + yours that the verses, "Take, O take those lips away," were not + Shakspeare's; I think they are. Beaumont, nor Fletcher, nor both + together were ever, I think, visited by such a starry gleam as that + stanza. I know it is in "Rollo," but it is in "Measure for Measure" + also; and I remember noticing that the Malones, and Stevens, and + critical gentry were about evenly divided, these for Shakspeare, and + those for Beaumont and Fletcher. But the internal evidence is all + for one, none for the other. If he did not write it, they did not, + and we shall have some fourth unknown singer. What care we _who_ + sung this or that. It is we at last who sing. Your friend and + servant, R.W. EMERSON. + + +TO JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. + + CONCORD, February 27, 1839. + + MY DEAR SIR,--I am very sorry to have made you wait so long for an + answer to your flattering request for two such little poems. You are + quite welcome to the lines "To the Rhodora;" but I think they need + the superscription ["Lines on being asked 'Whence is the Flower?'"]. + Of the other verses ["Good-by proud world," etc] I send you a + corrected copy, but I wonder so much at your wishing to print them + that I think you must read them once again with your critical + spectacles before they go further. They were written sixteen years + ago, when I kept school in Boston, and lived in a corner of Roxbury + called Canterbury. They have a slight misanthropy, a shade deeper + than belongs to me; and as it seems nowadays I am a philosopher and + am grown to have opinions, I think they must have an apologetic + date, though I well know that poetry that needs a date is no poetry, + and so you will wiselier suppress them. I heartily wish I had any + verses which with a clear mind I could send you in lieu of these + juvenilities. It is strange, seeing the delight we take in verses, + that we can so seldom write them, and so are not ashamed to lay up + old ones, say sixteen years, instead of improvising them as freely + as the wind blows, whenever we and our brothers are attuned to + music. I have heard of a citizen who made an annual joke. I believe + I have in April or May an annual poetic _conatus_ rather than + _afflatus_, experimenting to the length of thirty lines or so, if I + may judge from the dates of the rhythmical scraps I detect among my + MSS. I look upon this incontinence as merely the redundancy of + a susceptibility to poetry which makes all the bards my daily + treasures, and I can well run the risk of being ridiculous once a + year for the benefit of happy reading all the other days. In regard + to the Providence Discourse, I have no copy of it; and as far as I + remember its contents, I have since used whatever is striking in it; + but I will get the MS., if Margaret Fuller has it, and you shall + have it if it will pass muster. I shall certainly avail myself + of the good order you gave me for twelve copies of the "Carlyle + Miscellanies," so soon as they appear. He, T.C., writes in excellent + spirits of his American friends and readers.... A new book, he + writes, is growing in him, though not to begin until his spring + lectures are over (which begin in May). Your sister Sarah was kind + enough to carry me the other day to see some pencil sketches done + by Stuart Newton when in the Insane Hospital. They seemed to me to + betray the richest invention, so rich as almost to say, why draw any + line since you can draw all? Genius has given you the freedom of the + universe, why then come within any walls? And this seems to be the + old moral which we draw from our fable, read it how or where you + will, that we cannot make one good stroke until we can make every + possible stroke; and when we can one, every one seems superfluous. I + heartily thank you for the good wishes you send me to open the year, + and I say them back again to you. Your field is a world, and all men + are your spectators, and all men respect the true and great-hearted + service you render. And yet it is not spectator nor spectacle that + concerns either you or me. The whole world is sick of that very ail, + of being seen, and of seemliness. It belongs to the brave now to + trust themselves infinitely, and to sit and hearken alone. I am glad + to see William Channing is one of your coadjutors. Mrs. Jameson's + new book, I should think, would bring a caravan of travellers, + aesthetic, artistic, and what not, up your mighty stream, or along + the lakes to Mackinaw. As I read I almost vowed an exploration, but + I doubt if I ever get beyond the Hudson. + + Your affectionate servant, R.W. EMERSON. + +On the 24th of July, 1838, a little more than a week after the delivery +of the Address before the Divinity School, Mr. Emerson delivered an +Oration before the Literary Societies of Dartmouth College. If any rumor +of the former discourse had reached Dartmouth, the audience must have +been prepared for a much more startling performance than that to +which they listened. The bold avowal which fluttered the dovecotes of +Cambridge would have sounded like the crash of doom to the cautious +old tenants of the Hanover aviary. If there were any drops of false or +questionable doctrine in the silver shower of eloquence under which +they had been sitting, the plumage of orthodoxy glistened with unctuous +repellents, and a shake or two on coming out of church left the sturdy +old dogmatists as dry as ever. + +Those who remember the Dartmouth College of that day cannot help smiling +at the thought of the contrast in the way of thinking between the +speaker and the larger part, or at least the older part, of his +audience. President Lord was well known as the scriptural defender of +the institution of slavery. Not long before a controversy had arisen, +provoked by the setting up of the Episcopal form of worship by one of +the Professors, the most estimable and scholarly Dr. Daniel Oliver. +Perhaps, however, the extreme difference between the fundamental +conceptions of Mr. Emerson and the endemic orthodoxy of that place +and time was too great for any hostile feeling to be awakened by the +sweet-voiced and peaceful-mannered speaker. There is a kind of harmony +between boldly contrasted beliefs like that between complementary +colors. It is when two shades of the same color are brought side by side +that comparison makes them odious to each other. Mr. Emerson could go +anywhere and find willing listeners among those farthest in their belief +from the views he held. Such was his simplicity of speech and manner, +such his transparent sincerity, that it was next to impossible to +quarrel with the gentle image-breaker. + +The subject of Mr. Emerson's Address is _Literary Ethics._ It is on the +same lofty plane of sentiment and in the same exalted tone of eloquence +as the Phi Beta Kappa Address. The word impassioned would seem +misplaced, if applied to any of Mr. Emerson's orations. But these +discourses were both written and delivered in the freshness of his +complete manhood. They were produced at a time when his mind had learned +its powers and the work to which it was called, in the struggle which +freed him from the constraint of stereotyped confessions of faith and +all peremptory external authority. It is not strange, therefore, to find +some of his paragraphs glowing with heat and sparkling with imaginative +illustration. + +"Neither years nor books," he says, "have yet availed to extirpate a +prejudice rooted in me, that a scholar is the favorite of Heaven and +earth, the excellency of his country, the happiest of men." And yet, +he confesses that the scholars of this country have not fulfilled +the reasonable expectation of mankind. "Men here, as elsewhere, are +indisposed to innovation and prefer any antiquity, any usage, any livery +productive of ease or profit, to the unproductive service of thought." +For all this he offers those correctives which in various forms underlie +all his teachings. "The resources of the scholar are proportioned to his +confidence in the attributes of the Intellect." New lessons of spiritual +independence, fresh examples and illustrations, are drawn from history +and biography. There is a passage here so true to nature that it permits +a half page of quotation and a line or two of comment:-- + + "An intimation of these broad rights is familiar in the sense of + injury which men feel in the assumption of any man to limit their + possible progress. We resent all criticism which denies us anything + that lies In our line of advance. Say to the man of letters, that + he cannot paint a Transfiguration, or build a steamboat, or be a + grand-marshal, and he will not seem to himself depreciated. But deny + to him any quality of literary or metaphysical power, and he is + piqued. Concede to him genius, which is a sort of stoical _plenum_ + annulling the comparative, and he is content; but concede him + talents never so rare, denying him genius, and he is aggrieved." + +But it ought to be added that if the pleasure of denying the genius of +their betters were denied to the mediocrities, their happiness would be +forever blighted. + +From the resources of the American Scholar Mr. Emerson passes to his +tasks. Nature, as it seems to him, has never yet been truly studied. +"Poetry has scarcely chanted its first song. The perpetual admonition of +Nature to us is, 'The world is new, untried. Do not believe the past. I +give you the universe a virgin to-day.'" And in the same way he would +have the scholar look at history, at philosophy. The world belongs to +the student, but he must put himself into harmony with the constitution +of things. "He must embrace solitude as a bride." Not superstitiously, +but after having found out, as a little experience will teach him, all +that society can do for him with its foolish routine. I have spoken of +the exalted strain into which Mr. Emerson sometimes rises in the midst +of his general serenity. Here is an instance of it:-- + + "You will hear every day the maxims of a low prudence. You will hear + that the first duty is to get land and money, place and name. 'What + is this truth you seek? What is this beauty?' men will ask, with + derision. If, nevertheless, God have called any of you to explore + truth and beauty, be bold, be firm, be true. When you shall say, + 'As others do, so will I: I renounce, I am sorry for it, my early + visions: I must eat the good of the land, and let learning and + romantic expectations go, until a more convenient season;'--then + dies the man in you; then once more perish the buds of art, and + poetry, and science, as they have died already in a thousand + thousand men.--Bend to the persuasion which is flowing to you from + every object in nature, to be its tongue to the heart of man, and to + show the besotted world how passing fair is wisdom. Why should you + renounce your right to traverse the starlit deserts of truth, for + the premature comforts of an acre, house, and barn? Truth also has + its roof and house and board. Make yourself necessary to the world, + and mankind will give you bread; and if not store of it, yet such as + shall not take away your property in all men's possessions, in all + men's affections, in art, in nature, and in hope." + +The next Address Emerson delivered was "The Method of Nature," before +the Society of the Adelphi, in Waterville College, Maine, August 11, +1841. + +In writing to Carlyle on the 31st of July, he says: "As usual at this +season of the year, I, incorrigible spouting Yankee, am writing an +oration to deliver to the boys in one of our little country colleges +nine days hence.... My whole philosophy--which is very real--teaches +acquiescence and optimism. Only when I see how much work is to be done, +what room for a poet--for any spiritualist--in this great, intelligent, +sensual, and avaricious America, I lament my fumbling fingers and +stammering tongue." It may be remembered that Mr. Matthew Arnold quoted +the expression about America, which sounded more harshly as pronounced +in a public lecture than as read in a private letter. + +The Oration shows the same vein of thought as the letter. Its title is +"The Method of Nature." He begins with congratulations on the enjoyments +and promises of this literary Anniversary. + + "The scholars are the priests of that thought which establishes the + foundations of the castle."--"We hear too much of the results of + machinery, commerce, and the useful arts. We are a puny and a fickle + folk. Avarice, hesitation, and following are our diseases. The rapid + wealth which hundreds in the community acquire in trade, or by the + incessant expansion of our population and arts, enchants the eyes + of all the rest; this luck of one is the hope of thousands, and the + bribe acts like the neighborhood of a gold mine to impoverish the + farm, the school, the church, the house, and the very body and + feature of man."--"While the multitude of men degrade each other, + and give currency to desponding doctrines, the scholar must be a + bringer of hope, and must reinforce man against himself." + +I think we may detect more of the manner of Carlyle in this Address than +in any of those which preceded it. + + "Why then goest thou as some Boswell or literary worshipper to this + saint or to that? That is the only lese-majesty. Here art thou with + whom so long the universe travailed in labor; darest thou think + meanly of thyself whom the stalwart Fate brought forth to unite his + ragged sides, to shoot the gulf, to reconcile the irreconcilable?" + +That there is an "intimate divinity" which is the source of all true +wisdom, that the duty of man is to listen to its voice and to follow it, +that "the sanity of man needs the poise of this immanent force," +that the rule is "Do what you know, and perception is converted into +character,"--all this is strongly enforced and richly illustrated in +this Oration. Just how easily it was followed by the audience, just how +far they were satisfied with its large principles wrought into a few +broad precepts, it would be easier at this time to ask than to learn. +We notice not so much the novelty of the ideas to be found in this +discourse on "The Method of Nature," as the pictorial beauty of +their expression. The deep reverence which underlies all Emerson's +speculations is well shown in this paragraph:-- + + "We ought to celebrate this hour by expressions of manly joy. Not + thanks nor prayer seem quite the highest or truest name for + our communication with the infinite,--but glad and conspiring + reception,--reception that becomes giving in its turn as the + receiver is only the All-Giver in part and in infancy."--"It is God + in us which checks the language of petition by grander thought. In + the bottom of the heart it is said: 'I am, and by me, O child! this + fair body and world of thine stands and grows. I am, all things are + mine; and all mine are thine.'" + +We must not quarrel with his peculiar expressions. He says, in this same +paragraph, "I cannot,--nor can any man,--speak precisely of things so +sublime; but it seems to me the wit of man, his strength, his grace, his +tendency, his art, is the grace and the presence of God. It is beyond +explanation." + + "We can point nowhere to anything final but tendency; but tendency + appears on all hands; planet, system, constellation, total nature is + growing like a field of maize in July; is becoming something else; + is in rapid metamorphosis. The embryo does not more strive to be + man, than yonder burr of light we call a nebula tends to be a ring, + a comet, a globe, and parent of new stars." "In short, the spirit + and peculiarity of that impression nature makes on us is this, that + it does not exist to any one, or to any number of particular ends, + but to numberless and endless benefit; that there is in it no + private will, no rebel leaf or limb, but the whole is oppressed by + one superincumbent tendency, obeys that redundancy or excess of life + which in conscious beings we call ecstasy." + +Here is another of those almost lyrical passages which seem too long for +the music of rhythm and the resonance of rhyme. + + "The great Pan of old, who was clothed in a leopard skin to signify + the beautiful variety of things, and the firmament, his coat of + stars, was but the representative of thee, O rich and various Man! + thou palace of sight and sound, carrying in thy senses the morning + and the night and the unfathomable galaxy; in thy brain the geometry + of the City of God; in thy heart the bower of love and the realms of + right and wrong." + +His feeling about the soul, which has shown itself in many of the +extracts already given, is summed up in the following sentence:-- + + "We cannot describe the natural history of the soul, but we know + that it is divine. I cannot tell if these wonderful qualities which + house to-day in this mental home shall ever reassemble in equal + activity in a similar frame, or whether they have before had a + natural history like that of this body you see before you; but this + one thing I know, that these qualities did not now begin to exist, + cannot be sick with my sickness, nor buried in any grave; but that + they circulate through the Universe: before the world was, they + were." + +It is hard to see the distinction between the omnipresent Deity +recognized in our formal confessions of faith and the "pantheism" which +is the object of dread to many of the faithful. But there are many +expressions in this Address which must have sounded strangely and +vaguely to his Christian audience. "Are there not moments in the history +of heaven when the human race was not counted by individuals, but was +only the Influenced; was God in distribution, God rushing into manifold +benefit?" It might be feared that the practical philanthropists would +feel that they lost by his counsels. + + "The reform whose fame now fills the land with Temperance, + Anti-Slavery, Non-Resistance, No Government, Equal Labor, fair and + generous as each appears, are poor bitter things when prosecuted for + themselves as an end."--"I say to you plainly there is no end to + which your practical faculty can aim so sacred or so large, that if + pursued for itself, will not at last become carrion and an offence + to the nostril. The imaginative faculty of the soul must be fed with + objects immense and eternal. Your end should be one inapprehensible + to the senses; then it will be a god, always approached,--never + touched; always giving health." + +Nothing is plainer than that it was Emerson's calling to supply impulses +and not methods. He was not an organizer, but a power behind many +organizers, inspiring them with lofty motive, giving breadth, to their +views, always tending to become narrow through concentration on their +special objects. The Oration we have been examining was delivered in +the interval between the delivery of two Addresses, one called "Man the +Reformer," and another called "Lecture on the Times." In the first he +preaches the dignity and virtue of manual labor; that "a man should have +a farm, or a mechanical craft for his culture."--That he cannot give up +labor without suffering some loss of power. "How can the man who has +learned but one art procure all the conveniences of life honestly? Shall +we say all we think?--Perhaps with his own hands.--Let us learn the +meaning of economy.--Parched corn eaten to-day that I may have roast +fowl to my dinner on Sunday is a baseness; but parched corn and a house +with one apartment, that I may be free of all perturbation, that I +may be serene and docile to what the mind shall speak, and quit and +road-ready for the lowest mission of knowledge or good will, is +frugality for gods and heroes." + +This was what Emerson wrote in January, 1841. This "house with one +apartment" was what Thoreau built with his own hands in 1845. In April +of the former year, he went to live with Mr. Emerson, but had been on +intimate terms with him previously to that time. Whether it was from him +that Thoreau got the hint of the Walden cabin and the parched corn, or +whether this idea was working in Thoreau's mind and was suggested to +Emerson by him, is of no great consequence. Emerson, to whom he owed +so much, may well have adopted some of those fancies which Thoreau +entertained, and afterwards worked out in practice. He was at the +philanthropic centre of a good many movements which he watched others +carrying out, as a calm and kindly spectator, without losing his common +sense for a moment. It would never have occurred to him to leave all the +conveniences and comforts of life to go and dwell in a shanty, so as to +prove to himself that he could live like a savage, or like his friends +"Teague and his jade," as he called the man and brother and sister, more +commonly known nowadays as Pat, or Patrick, and his old woman. + +"The Americans have many virtues," he says in this Address, "but they +have not Faith and Hope." Faith and Hope, Enthusiasm and Love, are the +burden of this Address. But he would regulate these qualities by "a +great prospective prudence," which shall mediate between the spiritual +and the actual world. + +In the "Lecture on the Times" he shows very clearly the effect which a +nearer contact with the class of men and women who called themselves +Reformers had upon him. + + "The Reforms have their higher origin in an ideal justice, + but they do not retain the purity of an idea. They are + quickly organized in some low, inadequate form, and present no + more poetic image to the mind than the evil tradition which they + reprobated. They mix the fire of the moral sentiment with personal + and party heats, with measureless exaggerations, and the blindness + that prefers some darling measure to justice and truth. Those who + are urging with most ardor what are called the greatest benefit of + mankind are narrow, self-pleasing, conceited men, and affect us as + the insane do. They bite us, and we run mad also. I think the work + of the reformer as innocent as other work that is done around him; + but when I have seen it near!--I do not like it better. It is done + in the same way; it is done profanely, not piously; by management, + by tactics and clamor." + +All this, and much more like it, would hardly have been listened to by +the ardent advocates of the various reforms, if anybody but Mr. Emerson +had said it. He undervalued no sincere action except to suggest a wiser +and better one. He attacked no motive which had a good aim, except in +view of some larger and loftier principle. The charm of his imagination +and the music of his words took away all the sting from the thoughts +that penetrated to the very marrow of the entranced listeners. Sometimes +it was a splendid hyperbole that illuminated a statement which by the +dim light of common speech would have offended or repelled those who +sat before him. He knew the force of _felix audacia_ as well as any +rhetorician could have taught him. He addresses the reformer with one of +those daring images which defy the critics. + + "As the farmer casts into the ground the finest ears of his grain, + the time will come when we too shall hold nothing back, but shall + eagerly convert more than we possess into means and powers, when we + shall be willing to sow the sun and the moon for seeds." + +He said hard things to the reformer, especially to the Abolitionist, in +his "Lecture on the Times." It would have taken a long while to get +rid of slavery if some of Emerson's teachings in this lecture had been +accepted as the true gospel of liberty. But how much its last sentence +covers with its soothing tribute! + + "All the newspapers, all the tongues of today will of course defame + what is noble; but you who hold not of to-day, not of the times, but + of the Everlasting, are to stand for it; and the highest compliment + man ever receives from Heaven is the sending to him its disguised + and discredited angels." + +The Lecture called "The Transcendentalist" will naturally be looked at +with peculiar interest, inasmuch as this term has been very commonly +applied to Emerson, and to many who were considered his disciples. +It has a proper philosophical meaning, and it has also a local and +accidental application to the individuals of a group which came together +very much as any literary club might collect about a teacher. All this +comes out clearly enough in the Lecture. In the first place, Emerson +explains that the "_new views_," as they are called, are the oldest of +thoughts cast in a new mould. + + "What is popularly called Transcendentalism among us is Idealism: + Idealism as it appears in 1842. As thinkers, mankind have ever + divided into two sects, Materialists and Idealists; the first class + founding on experience, the second on consciousness; the first class + beginning to think from the data of the senses, the second class + perceive that the senses are not final, and say, the senses give us + representations of things, but what are the things themselves, they + cannot tell. The materialist insists on facts, on history, on the + force of circumstances and the animal wants of man; the idealist on + the power of Thought and of Will, on inspiration, on miracle, on + individual culture." + + "The materialist takes his departure from the external world, + and esteems a man as one product of that. The idealist takes his + departure from his consciousness, and reckons the world an + appearance.--His thought, that is the Universe." + +The association of scholars and thinkers to which the name of +"Transcendentalists" was applied, and which made itself an organ in the +periodical known as "The Dial," has been written about by many who were +in the movement, and others who looked on or got their knowledge of +it at second hand. Emerson was closely associated with these "same +Transcendentalists," and a leading contributor to "The Dial," which was +their organ. The movement borrowed its inspiration more from him than +from any other source, and the periodical owed more to him than to any +other writer. So far as his own relation to the circle of illuminati and +the dial which they shone upon was concerned, he himself is the best +witness. + +In his "Historic Notes of Life and Letters in New England," he sketches +in a rapid way the series of intellectual movements which led to the +development of the "new views" above mentioned. "There are always two +parties," he says, "the party of the Past and the party of the Future; +the Establishment and the Movement." + +About 1820, and in the twenty years which followed, an era of activity +manifested itself in the churches, in politics, in philanthropy, in +literature. In our own community the influence of Swedenborg and of the +genius and character of Dr. Channing were among the more immediate early +causes of the mental agitation. Emerson attributes a great importance +to the scholarship, the rhetoric, the eloquence, of Edward Everett, who +returned to Boston in 1820, after five years of study in Europe. Edward +Everett is already to a great extent a tradition, somewhat as Rufus +Choate is, a voice, a fading echo, as must be the memory of every great +orator. These wondrous personalities have their truest and warmest life +in a few old men's memories. It is therefore with delight that one who +remembers Everett in his robes of rhetorical splendor, who recalls his +full-blown, high-colored, double-flowered periods, the rich, resonant, +grave, far-reaching music of his speech, with just enough of nasal +vibration to give the vocal sounding-board its proper value in the +harmonies of utterance,--it is with delight that such a one reads the +glowing words of Emerson whenever he refers to Edward Everett. It is +enough if he himself caught inspiration from those eloquent lips; but +many a listener has had his youthful enthusiasm fired by that great +master of academic oratory. + +Emerson follows out the train of influences which added themselves to +the impulse given by Mr. Everett. German scholarship, the growth of +science, the generalizations of Goethe, the idealism of Schelling, the +influence of Wordsworth, of Coleridge, of Carlyle, and in our immediate +community, the writings of Channing,--he left it to others to say of +Emerson,--all had their part in this intellectual, or if we may call it +so, spiritual revival. He describes with that exquisite sense of the +ridiculous which was a part of his mental ballast, the first attempt at +organizing an association of cultivated, thoughtful people. They came +together, the cultivated, thoughtful people, at Dr. John Collins +Warren's,--Dr. Channing, the great Dr. Channing, among the rest, full +of the great thoughts he wished to impart. The preliminaries went on +smoothly enough with the usual small talk,-- + + "When a side-door opened, the whole company streamed in to an oyster + supper, crowned by excellent wines [this must have been before + Dr. Warren's temperance epoch], and so ended the first attempt to + establish aesthetic society in Boston. + + "Some time afterwards Dr. Channing opened his mind to Mr. and Mrs. + Ripley, and with some care they invited a limited party of ladies + and gentlemen. I had the honor to be present.--Margaret Fuller, + George Ripley, Dr. Convers Francis, Theodore Parker, Dr. Hedge, Mr. + Brownson, James Freeman Clarke, William H. Channing, and many others + gradually drew together, and from time to time spent an afternoon at + each other's houses in a serious conversation." + +With them was another, "a pure Idealist,--who read Plato as an +equal, and inspired his companions only in proportion as they were +intellectual." He refers, of course to Mr. Alcott. Emerson goes on to +say:-- + + "I think there prevailed at that time a general belief in Boston + that there was some concert of _doctrinaires_ to establish certain + opinions, and inaugurate some movement in literature, philosophy, + and religion, of which design the supposed conspirators were quite + innocent; for there was no concert, and only here and there two or + three men and women who read and wrote, each alone, with unusual + vivacity. Perhaps they only agreed in having fallen upon Coleridge + and Wordsworth and Goethe, then on Carlyle, with pleasure and + sympathy. Otherwise their education and reading were not marked, but + had the American superficialness, and their studies were solitary. + I suppose all of them were surprised at this rumor of a school or + sect, and certainly at the name of Transcendentalism, given, nobody + knows by whom, or when it was applied." + +Emerson's picture of some of these friends of his is so peculiar as to +suggest certain obvious and not too flattering comments. + + "In like manner, if there is anything grand and daring in human + thought or virtue; any reliance on the vast, the unknown; any + presentiment, any extravagance of faith, the Spiritualist adopts + it as most in nature. The Oriental mind has always tended to this + largeness. Buddhism is an expression of it. The Buddhist, who thanks + no man, who says, 'Do not flatter your benefactors,' but who in his + conviction that every good deed can by no possibility escape its + reward, will not deceive the benefactor by pretending that he has + done more than he should, is a Transcendentalist. + + "These exacting children advertise us of our wants. There is no + compliment, no smooth speech with them; they pay you only this one + compliment, of insatiable expectation; they aspire, they severely + exact, and if they only stand fast in this watch-tower, and persist + in demanding unto the end, and without end, then are they terrible + friends, whereof poet and priest cannot choose but stand in awe; and + what if they eat clouds, and drink wind, they have not been without + service to the race of man." + +The person who adopts "any presentiment, any extravagance as most in +nature," is not commonly called a Transcendentalist, but is known +colloquially as a "crank." The person who does not thank, by word or +look, the friend or stranger who has pulled him out of the fire or +water, is fortunate if he gets off with no harder name than that of a +churl. + +Nothing was farther from Emerson himself than whimsical eccentricity or +churlish austerity. But there was occasionally an air of bravado in some +of his followers as if they had taken out a patent for some knowing +machine which was to give them a monopoly of its products. They claimed +more for each other than was reasonable,--so much occasionally that +their pretensions became ridiculous. One was tempted to ask: "What +forlorn hope have you led? What immortal book have you written? What +great discovery have you made? What heroic task of any kind have you +performed?" There was too much talk about earnestness and too little +real work done. Aspiration too frequently got as far as the alpenstock +and the brandy flask, but crossed no dangerous crevasse, and scaled +no arduous summit. In short, there was a kind of "Transcendentalist" +dilettanteism, which betrayed itself by a phraseology as distinctive as +that of the Della Cruscans of an earlier time. + +In reading the following description of the "intelligent and religious +persons" who belonged to the "Transcendentalist" communion, the reader +must remember that it is Emerson who draws the portrait,--a friend and +not a scoffer:-- + + "They are not good citizens, not good members of society: + unwillingly they bear their part of the public and private burdens; + they do not willingly share in the public charities, in the public + religious rites, in the enterprise of education, of missions, + foreign and domestic, in the abolition of the slave-trade, or in the + temperance society. They do not even like to vote." + +After arraigning the representatives of Transcendental or spiritual +beliefs in this way, he summons them to plead for themselves, and this +is what they have to say:-- + + "'New, we confess, and by no means happy, is our condition: if you + want the aid of our labor, we ourselves stand in greater want of the + labor. We are miserable with inaction. We perish of rest and rust: + but we do not like your work.' + + 'Then,' says the world, 'show me your own.' + + 'We have none.' + + 'What will you do, then?' cries the world. + + 'We will wait.' + + 'How long?' + + 'Until the Universe beckons and calls us to work.' + + 'But whilst you wait you grow old and useless.' + + 'Be it so: I can sit in a corner and _perish_ (as you call it), but + I will not move until I have the highest command.'" + +And so the dissatisfied tenant of this unhappy creation goes on with his +reasons for doing nothing. + +It is easy to stay away from church and from town-meetings. It is +easy to keep out of the way of the contribution box and to let the +subscription paper go by us to the next door. The common duties of life +and the good offices society asks of us may be left to take care of +themselves while we contemplate the infinite. There is no safer fortress +for indolence than "the Everlasting No." The chimney-corner is the true +arena for this class of philosophers, and the pipe and mug furnish their +all-sufficient panoply. Emerson undoubtedly met with some of them among +his disciples. His wise counsel did not always find listeners in a +fitting condition to receive it. He was a sower who went forth to sow. +Some of the good seed fell among the thorns of criticism. Some fell on +the rocks of hardened conservatism. Some fell by the wayside and was +picked up by the idlers who went to the lecture-room to get rid of +themselves. But when it fell upon the right soil it bore a growth of +thought which ripened into a harvest of large and noble lives. + +Emerson shows up the weakness of his young enthusiasts with that +delicate wit which warns its objects rather than wounds them. But he +makes it all up with the dreamers before he can let them go. + + "Society also has its duties in reference to this class, and must + behold them with what charity it can. Possibly some benefit may yet + accrue from them to the state. Besides our coarse implements, there + must be some few finer instruments,--rain-gauges, thermometers, and + telescopes; and in society, besides farmers, sailors, and weavers, + there must be a few persons of purer fire kept specially as gauges + and meters of character; persons of a fine, detecting instinct, + who note the smallest accumulations of wit and feeling in the + by-stander. Perhaps too there might be room for the exciters and + monitors; collectors of the heavenly spark, with power to convey the + electricity to others. Or, as the storm-tossed vessel at sea speaks + the frigate or "line-packet" to learn its longitude, so it may not + be without its advantage that we should now and then encounter rare + and gifted men, to compare the points of our spiritual compass, and + verify our bearings from superior chronometers." + +It must be confessed that it is not a very captivating picture which +Emerson draws of some of his transcendental friends. Their faults were +naturally still more obvious to those outside of their charmed circle, +and some prejudice, very possibly, mingled with their critical +judgments. On the other hand we have the evidence of a visitor who knew +a good deal of the world as to the impression they produced upon him:-- + + "There has sprung up in Boston," says Dickens, in his "American + Notes," "a sect of philosophers known as Transcendentalists. On + inquiring what this appellation might be supposed to signify, I + was given to understand that whatever was unintelligible would be + certainly Transcendental. Not deriving much comfort from this + elucidation, I pursued the inquiry still further, and found that the + Transcendentalists are followers of my friend Mr. Carlyle, or, I + should rather say, of a follower of his, Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson. + This gentleman has written a volume of Essays, in which, among much + that is dreamy and fanciful (if he will pardon me for saying + so), there is much more that is true and manly, honest and bold. + Transcendentalism has its occasional vagaries (what school has + not?), but it has good healthful qualities in spite of them; not + least among the number a hearty disgust of Cant, and an aptitude to + detect her in all the million varieties of her everlasting wardrobe. + And therefore, if I were a Bostonian, I think I would be a + Transcendentalist." + +In December, 1841, Emerson delivered a Lecture entitled "The +Conservative." It was a time of great excitement among the members of +that circle of which he was the spiritual leader. Never did Emerson +show the perfect sanity which characterized his practical judgment more +beautifully than in this Lecture and in his whole course with reference +to the intellectual agitation of the period. He is as fair to the +conservative as to the reformer. He sees the fanaticism of the one as +well as that of the other. "Conservatism tends to universal seeming and +treachery; believes in a negative fate; believes that men's tempers +govern them; that for me it avails not to trust in principles, they will +fail me, I must bend a little; it distrusts Nature; it thinks there is a +general law without a particular application,--law for all that does +not include any one. Reform in its antagonism inclines to asinine +resistance, to kick with hoofs; it runs to egotism and bloated +self-conceit; it runs to a bodiless pretension, to unnatural refining +and elevation, which ends in hypocrisy and sensual reaction. And so, +whilst we do not go beyond general statements, it may be safely affirmed +of these two metaphysical antagonists that each is a good half, but an +impossible whole." + +He has his beliefs, and, if you will, his prejudices, but he loves fair +play, and though he sides with the party of the future, he will not be +unjust to the present or the past. + +We read in a letter from Emerson to Carlyle, dated March 12, 1835, that +Dr. Charming "lay awake all night, he told my friend last week, because +he had learned in the evening that some young men proposed to issue +a journal, to be called 'The Transcendentalist,' as the organ of a +spiritual philosophy." Again on the 30th of April of the same year, in +a letter in which he lays out a plan for a visit of Carlyle to this +country, Emerson says:-- + + "It was suggested that if Mr. C. would undertake a journal of which + we have talked much, but which we have never yet produced, he would + do us great service, and we feel some confidence that it could be + made to secure him a support. It is that project which I mentioned + to you in a letter by Mr. Barnard,--a book to be called 'The + Transcendentalist;' or, 'The Spiritual Inquirer,' or the like.... + Those who are most interested in it designed to make gratuitous + contribution to its pages, until its success could be assured." + +The idea of the grim Scotchman as editor of what we came in due time to +know as "The Dial!" A concert of singing mice with a savage and hungry +old grimalkin as leader of the orchestra! It was much safer to be +content with Carlyle's purring from his own side of the water, as +thus:-- + + "'The Boston Transcendentalist,' whatever the fate or merit of it + may prove to be, is surely an interesting symptom. There must be + things not dreamt of over in that _Transoceanic_ parish! I shall + certainly wish well to this thing; and hail it as the sure + forerunner of things better." + +There were two notable products of the intellectual ferment of the +Transcendental period which deserve an incidental notice here, from the +close connection which Emerson had with one of them and the interest +which he took in the other, in which many of his friends were more +deeply concerned. These were the periodical just spoken of as a +possibility realized, and the industrial community known as Brook Farm. +They were to a certain extent synchronous,--the Magazine beginning in +July, 1840, and expiring in April, 1844; Brook Farm being organized in +1841, and breaking up in 1847. + +"The Dial" was edited at first by Margaret Fuller, afterwards by +Emerson, who contributed more than forty articles in prose and verse, +among them "The Conservative," "The Transcendentalist," "Chardon Street +and Bible Convention," and some of his best and best known poems, "The +Problem," "Woodnotes," "The Sphinx," "Fate." The other principal writers +were Margaret Fuller, A. Bronson Alcott, George Ripley, James Freeman +Clarke, Theodore Parker, William H. Channing, Henry Thoreau, Eliot +Cabot, John S. Dwight, C.P. Cranch, William Ellery Channing, Mrs. +Ellen Hooper, and her sister Mrs. Caroline Tappan. Unequal as the +contributions are in merit, the periodical is of singular interest. +It was conceived and carried on in a spirit of boundless hope and +enthusiasm. Time and a narrowing subscription list proved too hard +a trial, and its four volumes remain stranded, like some rare and +curiously patterned shell which a storm of yesterday has left beyond +the reach of the receding waves. Thoreau wrote for nearly every number. +Margaret Fuller, less attractive in print than in conversation, did her +part as a contributor as well as editor. Theodore Parker came down with +his "trip-hammer" in its pages. Mrs. Ellen Hooper published a few poems +in its columns which remain, always beautiful, in many memories. Others, +whose literary lives have fulfilled their earlier promise, and who are +still with us, helped forward the new enterprise with their frequent +contributions. It is a pleasure to turn back to "The Dial," with all its +crudities. It should be looked through by the side of the "Anthology." +Both were April buds, opening before the frosts were over, but with the +pledge of a better season. + +We get various hints touching the new Magazine in the correspondence +between Emerson and Carlyle. Emerson tells Carlyle, a few months before +the first number appeared, that it will give him a better knowledge +of our _young people_ than any he has had. It is true that unfledged +writers found a place to try their wings in it, and that makes it more +interesting. This was the time above all others when out of the mouth +of babes and sucklings was to come forth strength. The feeling that +intuition was discovering a new heaven and a new earth was the +inspiration of these "young people" to whom Emerson refers. He has to +apologize for the first number. "It is not yet much," he says; "indeed, +though no copy has come to me, I know it is far short of what it should +be, for they have suffered puffs and dulness to creep in for the sake +of the complement of pages, but it is better than anything we had.--The +Address of the Editors to the Readers is all the prose that is mine, and +whether they have printed a few verses for me I do not know." They did +print "The Problem." There were also some fragments of criticism from +the writings of his brother Charles, and the poem called "The Last +Farewell," by his brother Edward, which is to be found in Emerson's +"May-day and other Pieces." + +On the 30th of August, after the periodical had been published a couple +of months, Emerson writes:-- + + "Our community begin to stand in some terror of Transcendentalism; + and the _Dial_, poor little thing, whose first number contains + scarce anything considerable or even visible, is just now honored + by attacks from almost every newspaper and magazine; which at least + betrays the irritability and the instincts of the good public." + +Carlyle finds the second number of "The Dial" better than the first, and +tosses his charitable recognition, as if into an alms-basket, with +his usual air of superiority. He distinguishes what is Emerson's +readily,--the rest he speaks of as the work of [Greek: oi polloi] for +the most part. "But it is all good and very good as a _soul;_ wants only +a body, which want means a great deal." And again, "'The Dial,' too, it +is all spirit like, aeri-form, aurora-borealis like. Will no _Angel_ +body himself out of that; no stalwart Yankee _man_, with color in the +cheeks of him and a coat on his back?" + +Emerson, writing to Carlyle in March, 1842, speaks of the "dubious +approbation on the part of you and other men," notwithstanding which he +found it with "a certain class of men and women, though few, an object +of tenderness and religion." So, when Margaret Fuller gave it up, at the +end of the second volume, Emerson consented to become its editor. "I +cannot bid you quit 'The Dial,'" says Carlyle, "though it, too, alas, is +Antinomian somewhat! _Perge, perge_, nevertheless." + +In the next letter he says:-- + + "I love your 'Dial,' and yet it is with a kind of shudder. You seem + to me in danger of dividing yourselves from the Fact of this present + Universe, in which alone, ugly as it is, can I find any anchorage, + and soaring away after Ideas, Beliefs, Revelations and such + like,--into perilous altitudes, as I think; beyond the curve of + perpetual frost, for one thing. I know not how to utter what + impression you give me; take the above as some stamping of the + fore-hoof." + +A curious way of characterizing himself as a critic,--but he was not +always as well-mannered as the Houyhnhnms. + +To all Carlyle's complaints of "The Dial's" short-comings Emerson did +not pretend to give any satisfactory answer, but his plea of guilty, +with extenuating circumstances, is very honest and definite. + + "For the _Dial_ and its sins, I have no defence to set up. We write + as we can, and we know very little about it. If the direction of + these speculations is to be deplored, it is yet a fact for literary + history that all the bright boys and girls in New England, quite + ignorant of each other, take the world so, and come and make + confession to fathers and mothers,--the boys, that they do not wish + to go into trade, the girls, that they do not like morning calls and + evening parties. They are all religious, but hate the churches; they + reject all the ways of living of other men, but have none to offer + in their stead. Perhaps one of these days a great Yankee shall come, + who will easily do the unknown deed." + +"All the bright boys and girls in New England," and "'The Dial' dying of +inanition!" In October, 1840, Emerson writes to Carlyle:-- + + "We are all a little wild here with numberless projects of social + reform. Not a reading man but has a draft of a new community in his + waistcoat pocket. I am gently mad myself, and am resolved to live + cleanly. George Ripley is talking up a colony of agriculturists and + scholars, with whom he threatens to take the field and the book. + One man renounces the use of animal food; and another of coin; and + another of domestic hired service; and another of the state; and on + the whole we have a commendable share of reason and hope." + +Mr. Ripley's project took shape in the West Roxbury Association, better +known under the name of Brook Farm. Emerson was not involved in this +undertaking. He looked upon it with curiosity and interest, as he would +have looked at a chemical experiment, but he seems to have had only a +moderate degree of faith in its practical working. "It was a noble and +generous movement in the projectors to try an experiment of better +living. One would say that impulse was the rule in the society, without +centripetal balance; perhaps it would not be severe to say, intellectual +sans-culottism, an impatience of the formal routinary character of our +educational, religious, social, and economical life in Massachusetts." +The reader will find a full detailed account of the Brook Farm +experiment in Mr. Frothingham's "Life of George Ripley," its founder, +and the first President of the Association. Emerson had only tangential +relations with the experiment, and tells its story in his "Historic +Notes" very kindly and respectfully, but with that sense of the +ridiculous in the aspect of some of its conditions which belongs to the +sagacious common-sense side of his nature. The married women, he +says, were against the community. "It was to them like the brassy and +lacquered life in hotels. The common school was well enough, but to +the common nursery they had grave objections. Eggs might be hatched in +ovens, but the hen on her own account much preferred the old way. A hen +without her chickens was but half a hen." Is not the inaudible, inward +laughter of Emerson more refreshing than the explosions of our noisiest +humorists? + +This is his benevolent summing up:-- + + "The founders of Brook Farm should have this praise, that they made + what all people try to make, an agreeable place to live in. All + comers, even the most fastidious, found it the pleasantest of + residences. It is certain, that freedom from household routine, + variety of character and talent, variety of work, variety of means + of thought and instruction, art, music, poetry, reading, masquerade, + did not permit sluggishness or despondency; broke up routine. + There is agreement in the testimony that it was, to most of the + associates, education; to many, the most important period of their + life, the birth of valued friendships, their first acquaintance with + the riches of conversation, their training in behavior. The art of + letter-writing, it is said, was immensely cultivated. Letters were + always flying, not only from house to house, but from room to room. + It was a perpetual picnic, a French Revolution in small, an Age of + Reason in a patty-pan." + +The public edifice called the "Phalanstery" was destroyed by fire +in 1846. The Association never recovered from this blow, and soon +afterwards it was dissolved. + + +Section 2. Emerson's first volume of his collected Essays was published +in 1841. In the reprint it contains the following Essays: History; +Self-Reliance; Compensation; Spiritual Laws; Love; Friendship; Prudence; +Heroism; The Over-Soul; Circles; Intellect; Art. "The Young American," +which is now included in the volume, was not delivered until 1844. + +Once accustomed to Emerson's larger formulae we can to a certain extent +project from our own minds his treatment of special subjects. But we +cannot anticipate the daring imagination, the subtle wit, the curious +illustrations, the felicitous language, which make the Lecture or the +Essay captivating as read, and almost entrancing as listened to by +the teachable disciple. The reader must be prepared for occasional +extravagances. Take the Essay on History, in the first series of Essays, +for instance. "Let it suffice that in the light of these two facts, +namely, that the mind is One, and that nature is its correlative, +history is to be read and written." When we come to the application, +in the same Essay, almost on the same page, what can we make of such +discourse as this? The sentences I quote do not follow immediately, one +upon the other, but their sense is continuous. + + "I hold an actual knowledge very cheap. Hear the rats in the wall, + see the lizard on the fence, the fungus under foot, the lichen on + the log. What do I know sympathetically, morally, of either of these + worlds of life?--How many times we must say Rome and Paris, and + Constantinople! What does Rome know of rat and lizard? What are + Olympiads and Consulates to these neighboring systems of being? + Nay, what food or experience or succor have they for the Esquimau + seal-hunter, for the Kamchatcan in his canoe, for the fisherman, the + stevedore, the porter?" + +The connection of ideas is not obvious. One can hardly help being +reminded of a certain great man's Rochester speech as commonly reported +by the story-teller. "Rome in her proudest days never had a waterfall +a hundred and fifty feet high! Greece in her palmiest days never had a +waterfall a hundred and fifty feet high! Men of Rochester, go on! No +people ever lost their liberty who had a waterfall a hundred and fifty +feet high!" + +We cannot help smiling, perhaps laughing, at the odd mixture of Rome +and rats, of Olympiads and Esquimaux. But the underlying idea of the +interdependence of all that exists in nature is far from ridiculous. +Emerson says, not absurdly or extravagantly, that "every history should +be written in a wisdom which divined the range of our affinities and +looked at facts as symbols." + +We have become familiar with his doctrine of "Self-Reliance," which is +the subject of the second lecture of the series. We know that he +always and everywhere recognized that the divine voice which speaks +authoritatively in the soul of man is the source of all our wisdom. +It is a man's true self, so that it follows that absolute, supreme +self-reliance is the law of his being. But see how he guards his +proclamation of self-reliance as the guide of mankind. + + "Truly it demands something god-like in him who has cast off the + common motives of humanity and has ventured to trust himself for a + task-master. High be his heart, faithful his will, clear his sight, + that he may in good earnest be doctrine, society, law, to himself, + that a simple purpose may be to him as strong as iron necessity is + to others!" + +"Compensation" might be preached in a synagogue, and the Rabbi would be +praised for his performance. Emerson had been listening to a sermon from +a preacher esteemed for his orthodoxy, in which it was assumed that +judgment is not executed in this world, that the wicked are successful, +and the good are miserable. This last proposition agrees with John +Bunyan's view:-- + + "A Christian man is never long at ease, + When one fright's gone, another doth him seize." + +Emerson shows up the "success" of the bad man and the failures and +trials of the good man in their true spiritual characters, with a noble +scorn of the preacher's low standard of happiness and misery, which +would have made him throw his sermon into the fire. + +The Essay on "Spiritual Laws" is full of pithy sayings:-- + + "As much virtue as there is, so much appears; as much goodness as + there is, so much reverence it commands. All the devils respect + virtue.--A man passes for that he is worth.--The ancestor of every + action is a thought.--To think is to act.--Let a man believe in + God, and not in names and places and persons. Let the great soul + incarnated in some woman's form, poor and sad and single, in some + Dolly or Joan, go out to service and sweep chambers and scour + floors, and its effulgent day-beams cannot be hid, but to sweep and + scour will instantly appear supreme and beautiful actions, the top + and radiance of human life, and all people will get mops and brooms; + until, lo! suddenly the great soul has enshrined itself in some + other form and done some other deed, and that is now the flower and + head of all living nature." + +This is not any the worse for being the flowering out of a poetical bud +of George Herbert's. The Essay on "Love" is poetical, but the three +poems, "Initial," "Daemonic," and "Celestial Love" are more nearly equal +to his subject than his prose. + +There is a passage in the Lecture on "Friendship" which suggests +some personal relation of Emerson's about which we cannot help being +inquisitive:-- + + "It has seemed to me lately more possible than I knew, to carry a + friendship greatly, on one side, without due correspondence on the + other. Why should I cumber myself with regrets that the receiver is + not capacious? It never troubles the sun that some of his rays fall + wide and vain into ungrateful space, and only a small part on the + reflecting planet. Let your greatness educate the crude and cold + companion.... Yet these things may hardly be said without a sort of + treachery to the relation. The essence of friendship is entireness, + a total magnanimity and trust. It must not surmise or provide for + infirmity. It treats its object as a god that it may deify both." + +Was he thinking of his relations with Carlyle? It is a curious subject +of speculation what would have been the issue if Carlyle had come to +Concord and taken up his abode under Emerson's most hospitable roof. +"You shall not come nearer a man by getting into his house." How could +they have got on together? Emerson was well-bred, and Carlyle was +wanting in the social graces. "Come rest in this bosom" is a sweet air, +heard in the distance, too apt to be followed, after a protracted season +of close proximity, by that other strain,-- + + "No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole! + Rise Alps between us and whole oceans roll!" + +But Emerson may have been thinking of some very different person, +perhaps some "crude and cold companion" among his disciples, who was not +equal to the demands of friendly intercourse. + +He discourses wisely on "Prudence," a virtue which he does not claim for +himself, and nobly on "Heroism," which was a shining part of his own +moral and intellectual being. + +The points which will be most likely to draw the reader's attention are +the remarks on the literature of heroism; the claim for our own America, +for Massachusetts and Connecticut River and Boston Bay, in spite of our +love for the names of foreign and classic topography; and most of all +one sentence which, coming from an optimist like Emerson, has a sound of +sad sincerity painful to recognize. + + "Who that sees the meanness of our politics but inly congratulates + Washington that he is long already wrapped in his shroud, and + forever safe; that he was laid sweet in his grave, the hope of + humanity not yet subjugated in him. Who does not sometimes envy the + good and brave who are no more to suffer from the tumults of the + natural world, and await with curious complacency the speedy term of + his own conversation with finite nature? And yet the love that + will be annihilated sooner than treacherous has already made death + impossible, and affirms itself no mortal, but a native of the deeps + of absolute and inextinguishable being." + +In the following Essay, "The Over-Soul," Emerson has attempted the +impossible. He is as fully conscious of this fact as the reader of his +rhapsody,--nay, he is more profoundly penetrated with it than any of his +readers. In speaking of the exalted condition the soul is capable of +reaching, he says,-- + + "Every man's words, who speaks from that life, must sound vain to + those who do not dwell in the same thought on their own part. I dare + not speak for it. My words do not carry its august sense; they fall + short and cold. Only itself can inspire whom it will, and behold! + their speech shall be lyrical and sweet, and universal as the rising + of the wind. Yet I desire, even by profane words, if I may not use + sacred, to indicate the heaven of this deity, and to report what + hints I have collected of the transcendent simplicity and energy of + the Highest Law." + +"The Over-Soul" might almost be called the Over-_flow_ of a spiritual +imagination. We cannot help thinking of the "pious, virtuous, +God-intoxicated" Spinoza. When one talks of the infinite in terms +borrowed from the finite, when one attempts to deal with the absolute +in the language of the relative, his words are not symbols, like those +applied to the objects of experience, but the shadows of symbols, +varying with the position and intensity of the light of the individual +intelligence. It is a curious amusement to trace many of these thoughts +and expressions to Plato, or Plotinus, or Proclus, or Porphyry, to +Spinoza or Schelling, but the same tune is a different thing according +to the instrument on which it is played. There are songs without words, +and there are states in which, in place of the trains of thought moving +in endless procession with ever-varying figures along the highway of +consciousness, the soul is possessed by a single all-absorbing idea, +which, in the highest state of spiritual exaltation, becomes a vision. +Both Plotinus and Porphyry believed they were privileged to look upon +Him whom "no man can see and live." + +But Emerson states his own position so frankly in his Essay entitled +"Circles," that the reader cannot take issue with him as against +utterances which he will not defend. There can be no doubt that he would +have confessed as much with reference to "The Over-Soul" as he has +confessed with regard to "Circles," the Essay which follows "The +Over-Soul." + + "I am not careful to justify myself.... But lest I should mislead + any when I have my own head and obey my whims, let me remind the + reader that I am only an experimenter. Do not set the least value + on what I do, or the least discredit on what I do not, as if I + pretended to settle anything as true or false. I unsettle all + things. No facts are to me sacred; none are profane; I simply + experiment, an endless seeker, with no Past at my back." + +Perhaps, after reading these transcendental essays of Emerson, we might +borrow Goethe's language about Spinoza, as expressing the feeling with +which we are left. + + "I am reading Spinoza with Frau von Stein. I feel myself very near + to him, though his soul is much deeper and purer than mine. + + "I cannot say that I ever read Spinoza straight through, that at any + time the complete architecture of his intellectual system has + stood clear in view before me. But when I look into him I seem to + understand him,--that is, he always appears to me consistent with + himself, and I can always gather from him very salutary influences + for my own way of feeling and acting." + +Emerson would not have pretended that he was always "consistent with +himself," but these "salutary influences," restoring, enkindling, +vivifying, are felt by many of his readers who would have to confess, +like Dr. Walter Channing, that these thoughts, or thoughts like these, +as he listened to them in a lecture, "made his head ache." + +The three essays which follow "The Over-Soul," "Circles," "Intellect," +"Art," would furnish us a harvest of good sayings, some of which we +should recognize as parts of our own (borrowed) axiomatic wisdom. + + "Beware when the great God lets loose a thinker on this planet. Then + all things are at risk." + + "God enters by a private door into every individual." + + "God offers to every mind its choice between truth and repose. Take + which you please,--you can never have both." + + "Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must + carry it with us, or we find it not." + +But we cannot reconstruct the Hanging Gardens with a few bricks from +Babylon. + +Emerson describes his mode of life in these years in a letter to +Carlyle, dated May 10, 1838. + + "I occupy, or improve, as we Yankees say, two acres only of God's + earth; on which is my house, my kitchen-garden, my orchard of thirty + young trees, my empty barn. My house is now a very good one for + comfort, and abounding in room. Besides my house, I have, I believe, + $22,000, whose income in ordinary years is six per cent. I have no + other tithe or glebe except the income of my winter lectures, which + was last winter $800. Well, with this income, here at home, I am a + rich man. I stay at home and go abroad at my own instance. I have + food, warmth, leisure, books, friends. Go away from home, I am rich + no longer. I never have a dollar to spend on a fancy. As no wise + man, I suppose, ever was rich in the sense of freedom to spend, + because of the inundation of claims, so neither am I, who am not + wise. But at home, I am rich,--rich enough for ten brothers. My wife + Lidian is an incarnation of Christianity,--I call her Asia,--and + keeps my philosophy from Antinomianism; my mother, whitest, mildest, + most conservative of ladies, whose only exception to her universal + preference for old things is her son; my boy, a piece of love and + sunshine, well worth my watching from morning to night;--these, and + three domestic women, who cook, and sew and run for us, make all my + household. Here I sit and read and write, with very little system, + and, as far as regards composition, with the most fragmentary + result: paragraphs incompressible, each sentence an infinitely + repellent particle." + +A great sorrow visited Emerson and his household at this period of his +life. On the 30th of October, 1841, he wrote to Carlyle: "My little boy +is five years old to-day, and almost old enough to send you his love." + +Three months later, on the 28th of February, 1842, he writes once +more:-- + + "My dear friend, you should have had this letter and these messages + by the last steamer; but when it sailed, my son, a perfect little + boy of five years and three months, had ended his earthly life. You + can never sympathize with me; you can never know how much of me such + a young child can take away. A few weeks ago I accounted myself a + very rich man, and now the poorest of all. What would it avail to + tell you anecdotes of a sweet and wonderful boy, such as we solace + and sadden ourselves with at home every morning and evening? From a + perfect health and as happy a life and as happy influences as ever + child enjoyed, he was hurried out of my arms in three short days by + scarlatina. We have two babes yet, one girl of three years, and one + girl of three months and a week, but a promise like that Boy's I + shall never see. How often I have pleased myself that one day I + should send to you this Morning Star of mine, and stay at home so + gladly behind such a representative. I dare not fathom the Invisible + and Untold to inquire what relations to my Departed ones I yet + sustain." + +This was the boy whose memory lives in the tenderest and most pathetic +of Emerson's poems, the "Threnody,"--a lament not unworthy of comparison +with Lycidas for dignity, but full of the simple pathos of Cowper's +well-remembered lines on the receipt of his mother's picture, in the +place of Milton's sonorous academic phrases. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +1843-1848. AET. 40-45. + +"The Young American."--Address on the Anniversary of the Emancipation +of the Negroes in the British West Indies.[1]--Publication of the Second +Series of Essays.--Contents: The Poet.--Experience.--Character. +--Manners.--Gifts.--Nature.--Politics.--Nominalist and Realist.--New +England Reformers.--Publication of Poems.--Second Visit to England. + + +[Footnote 1: These two addresses are to be found in the first and +eleventh volumes, respectively, of the last collective edition of +Emerson's works, namely, "Nature, Addresses, and Lectures," and +"Miscellanies."] + +Emerson was American in aspect, temperament, way of thinking, and +feeling; American, with an atmosphere of Oriental idealism; American, so +far as he belonged to any limited part of the universe. He believed in +American institutions, he trusted the future of the American race. In +the address first mentioned in the contents, of this chapter, delivered +February 7, 1844, he claims for this country all that the most ardent +patriot could ask. Not a few of his fellow-countrymen will feel the +significance of the following contrast. + + "The English have many virtues, many advantages, and the proudest + history in the world; but they need all and more than all the + resources of the past to indemnify a heroic gentleman in that + country for the mortifications prepared for him by the system of + society, and which seem to impose the alternative to resist or to + avoid it.... It is for Englishmen to consider, not for us; we only + say, Let us live in America, too thankful for our want of feudal + institutions.... If only the men are employed in conspiring with the + designs of the Spirit who led us hither, and is leading us still, we + shall quickly enough advance out of all hearing of others' censures, + out of all regrets of our own, into a new and more excellent social + state than history has recorded." + +Thirty years have passed since the lecture from which these passages are +taken was delivered. The "Young American" of that day is the more than +middle-aged American of the present. The intellectual independence of +our country is far more solidly established than when this lecture was +written. But the social alliance between certain classes of Americans +and English is more and more closely cemented from year to year, as the +wealth of the new world burrows its way among the privileged classes +of the old world. It is a poor ambition for the possessor of suddenly +acquired wealth to have it appropriated as a feeder of the impaired +fortunes of a deteriorated household, with a family record of which +its representatives are unworthy. The plain and wholesome language of +Emerson is on the whole more needed now than it was when spoken. His +words have often been extolled for their stimulating quality; following +the same analogy, they are, as in this address, in a high degree tonic, +bracing, strengthening to the American, who requires to be reminded of +his privileges that he may know and find himself equal to his duties. + +On the first day of August, 1844, Emerson delivered in Concord an +address on the Anniversary of the Emancipation of the Negroes in the +British West India Islands. This discourse would not have satisfied the +Abolitionists. It was too general in its propositions, full of humane +and generous sentiments, but not looking to their extreme and immediate +method of action. + + * * * * * + +Emerson's second series of Essays was published in 1844. There are +many sayings in the Essay called "The Poet," which are meant for the +initiated, rather than for him who runs, to read:-- + + "All that we call sacred history attests that the birth of a poet is + the principal event in chronology." + +Does this sound wild and extravagant? What were the political ups and +downs of the Hebrews,--what were the squabbles of the tribes with each +other, or with their neighbors, compared to the birth of that poet to +whom we owe the Psalms,--the sweet singer whose voice is still the +dearest of all that ever sang to the heart of mankind? + +The poet finds his materials everywhere, as Emerson tells him in this +eloquent apostrophe:-- + + "Thou true land-bird! sea-bird! air-bird! Wherever snow falls, or + water flows, or birds fly, wherever day and night meet in twilight, + wherever the blue heaven is hung by clouds, or sown with stars, + wherever are forms with transparent boundaries, wherever are outlets + into celestial space, wherever is danger and awe and love, there is + Beauty, plenteous as rain, shed for thee, and though thou should'st + walk the world over, thou shalt not be able to find a condition + inopportune or ignoble." + +"Experience" is, as he says himself, but a fragment. It bears marks of +having been written in a less tranquil state of mind than the other +essays. His most important confession is this:-- + + "All writing comes by the grace of God, and all doing and having. I + would gladly be moral and keep due metes and bounds, which I dearly + love, and allow the most to the will of man; but I have set my + heart on honesty in this chapter, and I can see nothing at last, in + success or failure, than more or less of vital force supplied from + the Eternal." + +The Essay on "Character" requires no difficult study, but is well worth +the trouble of reading. A few sentences from it show the prevailing tone +and doctrine. + + "Character is Nature in the highest form. It is of no use to ape it, + or to contend with it. Somewhat is possible of resistance and of + persistence and of creation to this power, which will foil all + emulation." + + "There is a class of men, individuals of which appear at long + intervals, so eminently endowed with insight and virtue, that they + have been unanimously saluted as _divine_, and who seem to be an + accumulation of that power we consider. + + "The history of those gods and saints which the world has written, + and then worshipped, are documents of character. The ages have + exulted in the manners of a youth who owed nothing to fortune, and + who was hanged at the Tyburn of his nation, who, by the pure quality + of his nature, shed an epic splendor around the facts of his death + which has transfigured every particular into an universal symbol + for the eyes of mankind. This great defeat is hitherto our highest + fact." + +In his Essay on "Manners," Emerson gives us his ideas of a gentleman:-- + + "The gentleman is a man of truth, lord of his own actions and + expressing that lordship in his behavior, not in any manner + dependent and servile either on persons or opinions or possessions. + Beyond this fact of truth and real force, the word denotes + good-nature or benevolence: manhood first, and then + gentleness.--Power first, or no leading class.--God knows that + all sorts of gentlemen knock at the door: but whenever used in + strictness, and with any emphasis, the name will be found to point + at original energy.--The famous gentlemen of Europe have been of + this strong type: Saladin, Sapor, the Cid, Julius Caesar, Scipio, + Alexander, Pericles, and the lordliest personages. They sat very + carelessly in their chairs, and were too excellent themselves to + value any condition at a high rate.--I could better eat with one + who did not respect the truth or the laws than with a sloven and + unpresentable person.--The person who screams, or uses the + superlative degree, or converses with heat, puts whole drawing-rooms + to flight.--I esteem it a chief felicity of this country that it + excels in woman." + +So writes Emerson, and proceeds to speak of woman in language which +seems almost to pant for rhythm and rhyme. + +This essay is plain enough for the least "transcendental" reader. +Franklin would have approved it, and was himself a happy illustration of +many of the qualities which go to the Emersonian ideal of good manners, +a typical American, equal to his position, always as much so in the +palaces and salons of Paris as in the Continental Congress, or the +society of Philadelphia. + +"Gifts" is a dainty little Essay with some nice distinctions and some +hints which may help to give form to a generous impulse:-- + + "The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. + Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the + farmer, corn; the miner, a gem; the sailor, coral and shells; the + painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing." + + "Flowers and fruits are always fit presents; flowers, because + they are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the + utilities of the world.--Fruits are acceptable gifts, because they + are the flower of commodities, and admit of fantastic values being + attached to them." + + "It is a great happiness to get off without injury and heart-burning + from one who has had the ill-luck to be served by you. It is a very + onerous business, this of being served, and the debtor naturally + wishes to give you a slap." + +Emerson hates the superlative, but he does unquestionably love the +tingling effect of a witty over-statement. + +We have recognized most of the thoughts in the Essay entitled "Nature," +in the previous Essay by the same name, and others which we have passed +in review. But there are poetical passages which will give new pleasure. + + Here is a variation of the formula with which we are familiar:-- + "Nature is the incarnation of a thought, and turns to a thought + again, as ice becomes water and gas. The world is mind precipitated, + and the volatile essence is forever escaping again into the state of + free thought." + +And here is a quaint sentence with which we may take leave of this +Essay:-- + + "They say that by electro-magnetism, your salad shall be grown from + the seed, whilst your fowl is roasting for dinner: it is a symbol of + our modern aims and endeavors,--of our condensation and acceleration + of objects; but nothing is gained: nature cannot be cheated: man's + life is but seventy salads long, grow they swift or grow they slow." + +This is pretty and pleasant, but as to the literal value of the +prediction, M. Jules Verne would be the best authority to consult. Poets +are fond of that branch of science which, if the imaginative Frenchman +gave it a name, he would probably call _Onditologie_. + +It is not to be supposed that the most sanguine optimist could be +satisfied with the condition of the American political world at the +present time, or when the Essay on "Politics" was written, some years +before the great war which changed the aspects of the country in so many +respects, still leaving the same party names, and many of the characters +of the old parties unchanged. This is Emerson's view of them as they +then were:-- + + "Of the two great parties, which, at this hour, almost share + the nation between them, I should say that one has the best + cause, and the other contains the best men. The philosopher, the + poet, or the religious man, will, of course, wish to cast his vote + with the democrat, for free trade, for wide suffrage, for the + abolition of legal cruelties in the penal code, and for facilitating + in every manner the access of the young and the poor to the sources + of wealth and power. But he can rarely accept the persons whom the + so-called popular party propose to him as representatives of these + liberties. They have not at heart the ends which give to the name of + democracy what hope and virtue are in it. The spirit of our American + radicalism is destructive and aimless; it is not loving; it has no + ulterior and divine ends; but is destructive only out of hatred and + selfishness. On the other side, the conservative party, composed of + the most moderate, able, and cultivated part of the population, is + timid, and merely defensive of property. It indicates no right, it + aspires to no real good, it brands no crime, it proposes no generous + policy, it does not build nor write, nor cherish the arts, nor + foster religion, nor establish schools, nor encourage science, nor + emancipate the slave, nor befriend the poor, or the Indian, or the + immigrant. From neither party, when in power, has the world any + benefit to expect in science, art, or humanity, at all commensurate + with the resources of the nation." + +The metaphysician who looks for a closely reasoned argument on the +famous old question which so divided the schoolmen of old will find +a very moderate satisfaction in the Essay entitled "Nominalism and +Realism." But there are many discursive remarks in it worth gathering +and considering. We have the complaint of the Cambridge "Phi Beta +Kappa Oration," reiterated, that there is no complete man, but only a +collection of fragmentary men. + +As a Platonist and a poet there could not be any doubt on which side +were all his prejudices; but he takes his ground cautiously. + + "In the famous dispute with the Nominalists, the Realists had a good + deal of reason. General ideas are essences. They are our gods: they + round and ennoble the most practical and sordid way of living. + + "Though the uninspired man certainly finds persons a conveniency in + household matters, the divine man does not respect them: he sees + them as a rack of clouds, or a fleet of ripples which the wind + drives over the surface of the water. But this is flat rebellion. + Nature will not be Buddhist: she resents generalizing, and + insults the philosopher in every moment with a million of fresh + particulars." + +_New England Reformers_.--Would any one venture to guess how Emerson +would treat this subject? With his unsparing, though amiable radicalism, +his excellent common sense, his delicate appreciation of the ridiculous, +too deep for laughter, as Wordsworth's thoughts were too deep for tears, +in the midst of a band of enthusiasts and not very remote from a throng +of fanatics, what are we to look for from our philosopher who unites +many characteristics of Berkeley and of Franklin? + +We must remember when this lecture was written, for it was delivered on +a Sunday in the year 1844. The Brook Farm experiment was an index of the +state of mind among one section of the Reformers of whom he was writing. +To remodel society and the world into a "happy family" was the aim +of these enthusiasts. Some attacked one part of the old system, some +another; some would build a new temple, some would rebuild the old +church, some would worship in the fields and woods, if at all; one was +for a phalanstery, where all should live in common, and another was +meditating the plan and place of the wigwam where he was to dwell apart +in the proud independence of the woodchuck and the musquash. Emerson had +the largest and kindliest sympathy with their ideals and aims, but he +was too clear-eyed not to see through the whims and extravagances of the +unpractical experimenters who would construct a working world with the +lay figures they had put together, instead of flesh and blood men and +women and children with all their congenital and acquired perversities. +He describes these Reformers in his own good-naturedly half-satirical +way:-- + + "They defied each other like a congress of kings; each of whom had a + realm to rule, and a way of his own that made concert unprofitable. + What a fertility of projects for the salvation of the world! One + apostle thought all men should go to farming; and another that no + man should buy or sell; that the use of money was the cardinal evil; + another that the mischief was in our diet, that we eat and drink + damnation. These made unleavened bread, and were foes to the death + to fermentation. It was in vain urged by the housewife that God made + yeast as well as dough, and loves fermentation just as dearly as he + does vegetation; that fermentation develops the saccharine element + in the grain, and makes it more palatable and more digestible. No, + they wish the pure wheat, and will die but it shall not ferment. + Stop, dear nature, these innocent advances of thine; let us + scotch these ever-rolling wheels! Others attacked the system of + agriculture, the use of animal manures in farming; and the tyranny + of man over brute nature; these abuses polluted his food. The ox + must be taken from the plough, and the horse from the cart, the + hundred acres of the farm must be spaded, and the man must walk + wherever boats and locomotives will not carry him. Even the insect + world was to be defended,--that had been too long neglected, and a + society for the protection of ground-worms, slugs, and mosquitoes + was to be incorporated without delay. With these appeared the adepts + of homoeopathy, of hydropathy, of mesmerism, of phrenology, and + their wonderful theories of the Christian miracles!" + +We have already seen the issue of the famous Brook Farm experiment, +which was a practical outcome of the reforming agitation. + +Emerson has had the name of being a leader in many movements in which he +had very limited confidence, this among others to which the idealizing +impulse derived from him lent its force, but for the organization of +which he was in no sense responsible. + +He says in the lecture we are considering:-- + + "These new associations are composed of men and women of superior + talents and sentiments; yet it may easily be questioned whether such + a community will draw, except in its beginnings, the able and the + good; whether these who have energy will not prefer their choice of + superiority and power in the world to the humble certainties of the + association; whether such a retreat does not promise to become an + asylum to those who have tried and failed rather than a field to the + strong; and whether the members will not necessarily be fractions of + men, because each finds that he cannot enter into it without some + compromise." + +His sympathies were not allowed to mislead him; he knew human nature too +well to believe in a Noah's ark full of idealists. + +All this time he was lecturing for his support, giving courses of +lectures in Boston and other cities, and before the country lyceums in +and out of New England. + +His letters to Carlyle show how painstaking, how methodical, how +punctual he was in the business which interested his distant friend. He +was not fond of figures, and it must have cost him a great effort to +play the part of an accountant. + +He speaks also of receiving a good deal of company in the summer, and +that some of this company exacted much time and attention,--more than he +could spare,--is made evident by his gentle complaints, especially in +his poems, which sometimes let out a truth he would hardly have uttered +in prose. + +In 1846 Emerson's first volume of poems was published. Many of the poems +had been long before the public--some of the best, as we have seen, +having been printed in "The Dial." It is only their being brought +together for the first time which belongs especially to this period, +and we can leave them for the present, to be looked over by and by in +connection with a second volume of poems published in 1867, under the +title, "May-Day and other Pieces." + +In October, 1847, he left Concord on a second visit to England, which +will be spoken of in the following chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +1848-1853. AET. 45-50. + +The "Massachusetts Quarterly Review;" Visit to Europe.--England. +--Scotland.--France.--"Representative Men" published. I. Uses +of Great Men. II. Plato; or, the Philosopher; Plato; New +Readings. III. Swedenborg; or, the Mystic. IV. Montaigne; or, the +Skeptic. V. Shakespeare; or, the Poet. VI. Napoleon; or, the Man of the +World. VII. Goethe; or, the Writer.--Contribution to the "Memoirs of +Margaret Fuller Ossoli." + + +A new periodical publication was begun in Boston in 1847, under the name +of the "Massachusetts Quarterly Review." Emerson wrote the "Editor's +Address," but took no further active part in it, Theodore Parker being +the real editor. The last line of this address is characteristic: "We +rely on the truth for aid against ourselves." + +On the 5th of October, 1847, Emerson sailed for Europe on his second +visit, reaching Liverpool on the 22d of that month. Many of his admirers +were desirous that he should visit England and deliver some courses of +lectures. Mr. Alexander Ireland, who had paid him friendly attentions +during his earlier visit, and whose impressions of him in the pulpit +have been given on a previous page, urged his coming. Mr. Conway +quotes passages from a letter of Emerson's which show that he had some +hesitation in accepting the invitation, not unmingled with a wish to be +heard by the English audiences favorably disposed towards him. + +"I feel no call," he said, "to make a visit of literary propagandism in +England. All my impulses to work of that kind would rather employ me at +home." He does not like the idea of "coaxing" or advertising to get +him an audience. He would like to read lectures before institutions or +friendly persons who sympathize with his studies. He has had a good many +decisive tokens of interest from British men and women, but he doubts +whether he is much and favorably known in any one city, except perhaps +in London. It proved, however, that there was a very widespread desire +to hear him, and applications for lectures flowed in from all parts of +the kingdom. + +From Liverpool he proceeded immediately to Manchester, where Mr. Ireland +received him at the Victoria station. After spending a few hours with +him, he went to Chelsea to visit Carlyle, and at the end of a week +returned to Manchester to begin the series of lecturing engagements +which had been arranged for him. Mr. Ireland's account of Emerson's +visits and the interviews between him and many distinguished persons +is full of interest, but the interest largely relates to the persons +visited by Emerson. He lectured at Edinburgh, where his liberal way of +thinking and talking made a great sensation in orthodox circles. But he +did not fail to find enthusiastic listeners. A young student, Mr. George +Cupples, wrote an article on these lectures from which, as quoted by Mr. +Ireland, I borrow a single sentence,--one only, but what could a critic +say more? + +Speaking of his personal character, as revealed through his writings, he +says: "In this respect, I take leave to think that Emerson is the most +mark-worthy, the loftiest, and most heroic mere man that ever appeared." +Emerson has a lecture on the superlative, to which he himself was never +addicted. But what would youth be without its extravagances,--its +preterpluperfect in the shape of adjectives, its unmeasured and +unstinted admiration? + +I need not enumerate the celebrated literary personages and other +notabilities whom Emerson met in England and Scotland. He thought "the +two finest mannered literary men he met in England were Leigh Hunt and +De Quincey." His diary might tell us more of the impressions made upon +him by the distinguished people he met, but it is impossible to believe +that he ever passed such inhuman judgments on the least desirable of +his new acquaintances as his friend Carlyle has left as a bitter legacy +behind him. Carlyle's merciless discourse about Coleridge and Charles +Lamb, and Swinburne's carnivorous lines, which take a barbarous +vengeance on him for his offence, are on the level of political rhetoric +rather than of scholarly criticism or characterization. Emerson never +forgot that he was dealing with human beings. He could not have long +endured the asperities of Carlyle, and that "loud shout of laughter," +which Mr. Ireland speaks of as one of his customary explosions, would +have been discordant to Emerson's ears, which were offended by such +noisy manifestations. + +During this visit Emerson made an excursion to Paris, which furnished +him materials for a lecture on France delivered in Boston, in 1856, but +never printed. + +From the lectures delivered in England he selected a certain number for +publication. These make up the volume entitled "Representative Men," +which was published in 1850. I will give very briefly an account of its +contents. The title was a happy one, and has passed into literature and +conversation as an accepted and convenient phrase. It would teach us a +good deal merely to consider the names he has selected as typical, +and the ground of their selection. We get his classification of men +considered as leaders in thought and in action. He shows his own +affinities and repulsions, and, as everywhere, writes his own biography, +no matter about whom or what he is talking. There is hardly any book of +his better worth study by those who wish to understand, not Plato, not +Plutarch, not Napoleon, but Emerson himself. All his great men interest +us for their own sake; but we know a good deal about most of them, and +Emerson holds the mirror up to them at just such an angle that we +see his own face as well as that of his hero, unintentionally, +unconsciously, no doubt, but by a necessity which he would be the first +to recognize. + +Emerson swears by no master. He admires, but always with a reservation. +Plato comes nearest to being his idol, Shakespeare next. But he says of +all great men: "The power which they communicate is not theirs. When we +are exalted by ideas, we do not owe this to Plato, but to the idea, to +which also Plato was debtor." + +Emerson loves power as much as Carlyle does; he likes "rough and +smooth," "scourges of God," and "darlings of the human race." He likes +Julius Caesar, Charles the Fifth, of Spain, Charles the Twelfth, of +Sweden, Richard Plantagenet, and Bonaparte. + + "I applaud," he says, "a sufficient man, an officer equal + to his office; captains, ministers, senators. I like a master + standing firm on legs of iron, well born, rich, handsome, + eloquent, loaded with advantages, drawing all men by fascination + into tributaries and supporters of his power. Sword and staff, + or talents sword-like or staff-like, carry on the work of the + world. But I find him greater when he can abolish himself and + all heroes by letting in this element of reason, irrespective of + persons, this subtilizer and irresistible upward force, into our + thoughts, destroying individualism; the power is so great that the + potentate is nothing.-- + + "The genius of humanity is the right point of view of history. The + qualities abide; the men who exhibit them have now more, now less, + and pass away; the qualities remain on another brow.--All that + respects the individual is temporary and prospective, like the + individual himself, who is ascending out of his limits into a + catholic existence." + +No man can be an idol for one who looks in this way at all men. But +Plato takes the first place in Emerson's gallery of six great personages +whose portraits he has sketched. And of him he says:-- + + "Among secular books Plato only is entitled to Omar's fanatical + compliment to the Koran, when he said, 'Burn the libraries; for + their value is in this book.' Out of Plato come all things that are + still written and debated among men of thought."-- + + "In proportion to the culture of men they become his + scholars."--"How many great men Nature is incessantly sending up + out of night to be _his men_!--His contemporaries tax him with + plagiarism.--But the inventor only knows how to borrow. When we are + praising Plato, it seems we are praising quotations from Solon and + Sophron and Philolaus. Be it so. Every book is a quotation; and + every house is a quotation out of all forests and mines and stone + quarries; and every man is a quotation from all his ancestors." + +The reader will, I hope, remember this last general statement when +he learns from what wide fields of authorship Emerson filled his +storehouses. + +A few sentences from Emerson will show us the probable source of some of +the deepest thought of Plato and his disciples. + +The conception of the fundamental Unity, he says, finds its highest +expression in the religious writings of the East, especially in the +Indian Scriptures. "'The whole world is but a manifestation of Vishnu, +who is identical with all things, and is to be regarded by the wise as +not differing from but as the same as themselves. I neither am going nor +coming; nor is my dwelling in any one place; nor art thou, thou; nor are +others, others; nor am I, I.' As if he had said, 'All is for the soul, +and the soul is Vishnu; and animals and stars are transient paintings; +and light is whitewash; and durations are deceptive; and form is +imprisonment; and heaven itself a decoy.'" All of which we see +reproduced in Emerson's poem "Brahma."--"The country of unity, of +immovable institutions, the seat of a philosophy delighting in +abstractions, of men faithful in doctrine and in practice to the idea of +a deaf, unimplorable, immense fate, is Asia; and it realizes this faith +in the social institution of caste. On the other side, the genius +of Europe is active and creative: it resists caste by culture; its +philosophy was a discipline; it is a land of arts, inventions, trade, +freedom."--"Plato came to join, and by contact to enhance, the energy of +each." + +But Emerson says,--and some will smile at hearing him say it of +another,--"The acutest German, the lovingest disciple, could never tell +what Platonism was; indeed, admirable texts can be quoted on both sides +of every great question from him." + +The transcendent intellectual and moral superiorities of this "Euclid of +holiness," as Emerson calls him, with his "soliform eye and his boniform +soul,"--the two quaint adjectives being from the mint of Cudworth,--are +fully dilated upon in the addition to the original article called +"Plato: New Readings." + +Few readers will be satisfied with the Essay entitled "Swedenborg; or, +the Mystic." The believers in his special communion as a revealer of +divine truth will find him reduced to the level of other seers. The +believers of the different creeds of Christianity will take offence +at the statement that "Swedenborg and Behmen both failed by attaching +themselves to the Christian symbol, instead of to the moral sentiment, +which carries innumerable christianities, humanities, divinities in +its bosom." The men of science will smile at the exorbitant claims +put forward in behalf of Swedenborg as a scientific discoverer. +"Philosophers" will not be pleased to be reminded that Swedenborg called +them "cockatrices," "asps," or "flying serpents;" "literary men" will +not agree that they are "conjurers and charlatans," and will not listen +with patience to the praises of a man who so called them. As for the +poets, they can take their choice of Emerson's poetical or prose +estimate of the great Mystic, but they cannot very well accept both. In +"The Test," the Muse says:-- + + "I hung my verses in the wind, + Time and tide their faults may find; + All were winnowed through and through, + Five lines lasted good and true ... + Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, + Nor time unmake what poets know. + Have you eyes to find the five + Which five hundred did survive?" + +In the verses which follow we learn that the five immortal poets +referred to are Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, _Swedenborg_, and Goethe. + +And now, in the Essay we have just been looking at, I find that "his +books have no melody, no emotion, no humor, no relief to the dead +prosaic level. We wander forlorn in a lack-lustre landscape. No bird +ever sang in these gardens of the dead. The entire want of poetry in so +transcendent a mind betokens the disease, and like a hoarse voice in a +beautiful person, is a kind of warning." Yet Emerson says of him that +"He lived to purpose: he gave a verdict. He elected goodness as the clue +to which the soul must cling in this labyrinth of nature." + +Emerson seems to have admired Swedenborg at a distance, but seen nearer, +he liked Jacob Behmen a great deal better. + +"Montaigne; or, the Skeptic," is easier reading than the last-mentioned +Essay. Emerson accounts for the personal regard which he has for +Montaigne by the story of his first acquaintance with him. But no other +reason was needed than that Montaigne was just what Emerson describes +him as being. + + "There have been men with deeper insight; but, one would say, never + a man with such abundance of thought: he is never dull, never + insincere, and has the genius to make the reader care for all that + he cares for. + + "The sincerity and marrow of the man reaches to his sentences. + I know not anywhere the book that seems less written. It is the + language of conversation transferred to a book. Cut these words and + they would bleed; they are vascular and alive.-- + + "Montaigne talks with shrewdness, knows the world and books and + himself, and uses the positive degree; never shrieks, or protests, + or prays: no weakness, no convulsion, no superlative: does not wish + to jump out of his skin, or play any antics, or annihilate space or + time, but is stout and solid; tastes every moment of the day; likes + pain because it makes him feel himself and realize things; as we + pinch ourselves to know that we are awake. He keeps the plain; he + rarely mounts or sinks; likes to feel solid ground and the stones + underneath. His writing has no enthusiasms, no aspiration; + contented, self-respecting, and keeping the middle of the road. + There is but one exception,--in his love for Socrates. In speaking + of him, for once his cheek flushes and his style rises to passion." + +The writer who draws this portrait must have many of the same +characteristics. Much as Emerson loved his dreams and his dreamers, he +must have found a great relief in getting into "the middle of the road" +with Montaigne, after wandering in difficult by-paths which too often +led him round to the point from which he started. + +As to his exposition of the true relations of skepticism to affirmative +and negative belief, the philosophical reader must be referred to the +Essay itself. + +In writing of "Shakespeare; or, the Poet," Emerson naturally gives +expression to his leading ideas about the office of the poet and of +poetry. + +"Great men are more distinguished by range and extent than by +originality." A poet has "a heart in unison with his time and +country."--"There is nothing whimsical and fantastic in his production, +but sweet and sad earnest, freighted with the weightiest convictions, +and pointed with the most determined aim which any man or class knows of +in his times." + +When Shakespeare was in his youth the drama was the popular means of +amusement. It was "ballad, epic, newspaper, caucus, lecture, Punch, and +library, at the same time. The best proof of its vitality is the crowd +of writers which suddenly broke into this field." Shakespeare found a +great mass of old plays existing in manuscript and reproduced from time +to time on the stage. He borrowed in all directions: "A great poet who +appears in illiterate times absorbs into his sphere all the light which +is anywhere radiating." Homer, Chaucer, Saadi, felt that all wit was +their wit. "Chaucer is a huge borrower." Emerson gives a list of authors +from whom he drew. This list is in many particulars erroneous, as I have +learned from a letter of Professor Lounsbury's which I have had the +privilege of reading, but this is a detail which need not delay us. + +The reason why Emerson has so much to say on this subject of borrowing, +especially when treating of Plato and of Shakespeare, is obvious enough. +He was arguing in his own cause,--not defending himself, as if there +were some charge of plagiarism to be met, but making the proud claim +of eminent domain in behalf of the masters who knew how to use their +acquisitions. + + "Shakespeare is the only biographer of Shakespeare; and even he can + tell nothing except to the Shakespeare in us."--"Shakespeare is as + much out of the category of eminent authors as he is out of the + crowd. A good reader can in a sort nestle into Plato's brain and + think from thence; but not into Shakespeare's. We are still out of + doors." + +After all the homage which Emerson pays to the intellect of Shakespeare, +he weighs him with the rest of mankind, and finds that he shares "the +halfness and imperfection of humanity." + + "He converted the elements which waited on his command into + entertainment. He was master of the revels to mankind." + +And so, after this solemn verdict on Shakespeare, after looking at the +forlorn conclusions of our old and modern oracles, priest and prophet, +Israelite, German, and Swede, he says: "It must be conceded that these +are half views of half men. The world still wants its poet-priest, who +shall not trifle with Shakespeare the player, nor shall grope in graves +with Swedenborg the mourner; but who shall see, speak, and act with +equal inspiration." + +It is not to be expected that Emerson should have much that is new to +say about "Napoleon; or, the Man of the World." + +The stepping-stones of this Essay are easy to find:-- + + "The instinct of brave, active, able men, throughout the middle + class everywhere, has pointed out Napoleon as the incarnate + democrat.-- + + "Napoleon is thoroughly modern, and at the highest point of his + fortunes, has the very spirit of the newspapers." As Plato borrowed, + as Shakespeare borrowed, as Mirabeau "plagiarized every good + thought, every good word that was spoken in France," so Napoleon is + not merely "representative, but a monopolizer and usurper of other + minds." + +He was "a man of stone and iron,"--equipped for his work by nature as +Sallust describes Catiline as being. "He had a directness of action +never before combined with such comprehension. Here was a man who in +each moment and emergency knew what to do next. He saw only the object; +the obstacle must give way." + +"When a natural king becomes a titular king everybody is pleased and +satisfied."-- + +"I call Napoleon the agent or attorney of the middle class of modern +society.--He was the agitator, the destroyer of prescription, the +internal improver, the liberal, the radical, the inventor of means, the +opener of doors and markets, the subverter of monopoly and abuse." + +But he was without generous sentiments, "a boundless liar," and +finishing in high colors the outline of his moral deformities, Emerson +gives us a climax in two sentences which render further condemnation +superfluous:-- + + "In short, when you have penetrated through all the circles of power + and splendor, you were not dealing with a gentleman, at last, but + with an impostor and rogue; and he fully deserves the epithet of + Jupiter Scapin, or a sort of Scamp Jupiter. + + "So this exorbitant egotist narrowed, impoverished, and absorbed the + power and existence of those who served him; and the universal cry + of France and of Europe in 1814 was, Enough of him; '_Assez de + Bonaparte_.'" + + It was to this feeling that the French poet Barbier, whose death + we have but lately seen announced, gave expression in the terrible + satire in which he pictured France as a fiery courser bestridden by + her spurred rider, who drove her in a mad career over heaps of rocks + and ruins. + + But after all, Carlyle's "_carrière ouverte aux talens_" is the + expression for Napoleon's great message to mankind. + +"Goethe; or, the Writer," is the last of the Representative Men who +are the subjects of this book of Essays. Emerson says he had read the +fifty-five volumes of Goethe, but no other German writers, at least in +the original. It must have been in fulfilment of some pious vow that +he did this. After all that Carlyle had written about Goethe, he could +hardly help studying him. But this Essay looks to me as if he had found +the reading of Goethe hard work. It flows rather languidly, toys with +side issues as a stream loiters round a nook in its margin, and finds +an excuse for play in every pebble. Still, he has praise enough for his +author. "He has clothed our modern existence with poetry."--"He has +said the best things about nature that ever were said.--He flung into +literature in his Mephistopheles the first organic figure that has +been added for some ages, and which will remain as long as the +Prometheus.--He is the type of culture, the amateur of all arts and +sciences and events; artistic, but not artist; spiritual, but not +spiritualist.--I join Napoleon with him, as being both representatives +of the impatience and reaction of nature against the morgue of +conventions,--two stern realists, who, with their scholars, have +severally set the axe at the root of the tree of cant and seeming, for +this time and for all time." + +This must serve as an _ex pede_ guide to reconstruct the Essay which +finishes the volume. + +In 1852 there was published a Memoir of Margaret Fuller Ossoli, in which +Emerson, James Freeman Clarke, and William Henry Channing each took +a part. Emerson's account of her conversation and extracts from +her letters and diaries, with his running commentaries and his +interpretation of her mind and character, are a most faithful and vivid +portraiture of a woman who is likely to live longer by what is written +of her than by anything she ever wrote herself. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +1858-1858. AEt. 50-55. + +Lectures in various Places.--Anti-Slavery Addresses.--Woman. A Lecture +read before the Woman's Rights Convention.--Samuel Hoar. Speech at +Concord.--Publication of "English Traits."--The "Atlantic Monthly."--The +"Saturday Club." + + +After Emerson's return from Europe he delivered lectures to different +audiences,--one on Poetry, afterwards published in "Letters and Social +Aims," a course of lectures in Freeman Place Chapel, Boston, some of +which have been published, one on the Anglo-Saxon Race, and many +others. In January, 1855, he gave one of the lectures in a course of +Anti-Slavery Addresses delivered in Tremont Temple, Boston. In the same +year he delivered an address before the Anti-Slavery party of New York. +His plan for the extirpation of slavery was to buy the slaves from the +planters, not conceding their right to ownership, but because "it is +the only practical course, and is innocent." It would cost two thousand +millions, he says, according to the present estimate, but "was there +ever any contribution that was so enthusiastically paid as this would +be?" + +His optimism flowers out in all its innocent luxuriance in the paragraph +from which this is quoted. Of course with notions like these he could +not be hand in hand with the Abolitionists. He was classed with the Free +Soilers, but he seems to have formed a party by himself in his project +for buying up the negroes. He looked at the matter somewhat otherwise in +1863, when the settlement was taking place in a different currency,--in +steel and not in gold:-- + + "Pay ransom to the owner, + And fill the bag to the brim. + Who is the owner? The slave is owner, + And ever was. Pay him." + +His sympathies were all and always with freedom. He spoke with +indignation of the outrage on Sumner; he took part in the meeting at +Concord expressive of sympathy with John Brown. But he was never in the +front rank of the aggressive Anti-Slavery men. In his singular "Ode +inscribed to W.H. Channing" there is a hint of a possible solution of +the slavery problem which implies a doubt as to the permanence of the +cause of all the trouble. + + "The over-god + Who marries Right to Might, + Who peoples, unpeoples,-- + He who exterminates + Races by stronger races, + Black by white faces,-- + Knows to bring honey + Out of the lion." + +Some doubts of this kind helped Emerson to justify himself when he +refused to leave his "honeyed thought" for the busy world where + + "Things are of the snake." + +The time came when he could no longer sit quietly in his study, and, to +borrow Mr. Cooke's words, "As the agitation proceeded, and brave men +took part in it, and it rose to a spirit of moral grandeur, he gave a +heartier assent to the outward methods adopted." + + * * * * * + +No woman could doubt the reverence of Emerson for womanhood. In a +lecture read to the "Woman's Rights Convention" in 1855, he takes bold, +and what would then have been considered somewhat advanced, ground in +the controversy then and since dividing the community. This is the way +in which he expresses himself: + + "I do not think it yet appears that women wish this equal share in + public affairs. But it is they and not we that are to determine it. + Let the laws he purged of every barbarous remainder, every barbarous + impediment to women. Let the public donations for education be + equally shared by them, let them enter a school as freely as a + church, let them have and hold and give their property as men do + theirs;--and in a few years it will easily appear whether they wish + a voice in making the laws that are to govern them. If you do refuse + them a vote, you will also refuse to tax them,--according to our + Teutonic principle, No representation, no tax.--The new movement + is only a tide shared by the spirits of man and woman; and you may + proceed in the faith that whatever the woman's heart is prompted to + desire, the man's mind is simultaneously prompted to accomplish." + +Emerson was fortunate enough to have had for many years as a neighbor, +that true New England Roman, Samuel Hoar. He spoke of him in Concord +before his fellow-citizens, shortly after his death, in 1856. He +afterwards prepared a sketch of Mr. Hoar for "Putnam's Magazine," from +which I take one prose sentence and the verse with which the sketch +concluded:-- + + "He was a model of those formal but reverend manners which make + what is called a gentleman of the old school, so called under an + impression that the style is passing away, but which, I suppose, is + an optical illusion, as there are always a few more of the class + remaining, and always a few young men to whom these manners are + native." + +The single verse I quote is compendious enough and descriptive enough +for an Elizabethan monumental inscription. + + "With beams December planets dart + His cold eye truth and conduct scanned; + July was in his sunny heart, + October in his liberal hand." + +Emerson's "English Traits," forming one volume of his works, was +published in 1856. It is a thoroughly fresh and original book. It is not +a tourist's guide, not a detailed description of sights which tired +the traveller in staring at them, and tire the reader who attacks the +wearying pages in which they are recorded. Shrewd observation there is +indeed, but its strength is in broad generalization and epigrammatic +characterizations. They are not to be received as in any sense final; +they are not like the verifiable facts of science; they are more or less +sagacious, more or less well founded opinions formed by a fair-minded, +sharp-witted, kind-hearted, open-souled philosopher, whose presence +made every one well-disposed towards him, and consequently left him +well-disposed to all the world. + +A glance at the table of contents will give an idea of the objects which +Emerson proposed to himself in his tour, and which take up the principal +portion of his record. Only one _place_ is given as the heading of a +chapter,--_Stonehenge_. The other eighteen chapters have general titles, +_Land, Race, Ability, Manners_, and others of similar character. + +He uses plain English in introducing us to the Pilgrim fathers of the +British Aristocracy:-- + + "Twenty thousand thieves landed at Hastings. These founders of the + House of Lords were greedy and ferocious dragoons, sons of greedy + and ferocious pirates. They were all alike, they took everything + they could carry; they burned, harried, violated, tortured, and + killed, until everything English was brought to the verge of ruin. + Such, however, is the illusion of antiquity and wealth, that decent + and dignified men now existing boast their descent from these filthy + thieves, who showed a far juster conviction of their own merits by + assuming for their types the swine, goat, jackal, leopard, wolf, and + snake, which they severally resembled." + +The race preserves some of its better characteristics. + + "They have a vigorous health and last well into middle and old age. + The old men are as red as roses, and still handsome. A clear skin, + a peach-bloom complexion, and good teeth are found all over the + island." + +English "Manners" are characterized, according to Emerson, by pluck, +vigor, independence. "Every one of these islanders is an island himself, +safe, tranquil, incommunicable." They are positive, methodical, cleanly, +and formal, loving routine and conventional ways; loving truth and +religion, to be sure, but inexorable on points of form. + + "They keep their old customs, costumes, and pomps, their wig and + mace, sceptre and crown. A severe decorum rules the court and the + cottage. Pretension and vaporing are once for all distasteful. They + hate nonsense, sentimentalism, and high-flown expressions; they use + a studied plainness." + + "In an aristocratical country like England, not the Trial by Jury, + but the dinner is the capital institution." + + "They confide in each other,--English believes in English."--"They + require the same adherence, thorough conviction, and reality in + public men." + + "As compared with the American, I think them cheerful and contented. + Young people in this country are much more prone to melancholy." + +Emerson's observation is in accordance with that of Cotton Mather nearly +two hundred years ago. + + "_New England_, a country where splenetic Maladies are prevailing + and pernicious, perhaps above any other, hath afforded numberless + instances, of even pious people, who have contracted those + _Melancholy Indispositions_, which have unhinged them from all + service or comfort; yea, not a few persons have been hurried thereby + to lay _Violent Hands_ upon themselves at the last. These are among + the _unsearchable Judgments_ of God." + +If there is a little exaggeration about the following portrait of the +Englishman, it has truth enough to excuse its high coloring, and the +likeness will be smilingly recognized by every stout Briton. + + "They drink brandy like water, cannot expend their quantities of + waste strength on riding, hunting, swimming, and fencing, and run + into absurd follies with the gravity of the Eumenides. They stoutly + carry into every nook and corner of the earth their turbulent sense; + leaving no lie uncontradicted; no pretension unexamined. They chew + hasheesh; cut themselves with poisoned creases, swing their hammock + in the boughs of the Bohon Upas, taste every poison, buy every + secret; at Naples, they put St. Januarius's blood in an alembic; + they saw a hole into the head of the 'winking virgin' to know why + she winks; measure with an English foot-rule every cell of the + inquisition, every Turkish Caaba, every Holy of Holies; translate + and send to Bentley the arcanum, bribed and bullied away from + shuddering Bramins; and measure their own strength by the terror + they cause." + +This last audacious picture might be hung up as a prose pendant to +Marvell's poetical description of Holland and the Dutch. + + "A saving stupidity marks and protects their perception as the + curtain of the eagle's eye. Our swifter Americans, when they first + deal with English, pronounce them stupid; but, later, do them + justice as people who wear well, or hide their strength.--High and + low, they are of an unctuous texture.--Their daily feasts argue a + savage vigor of body.--Half their strength they put not forth. The + stability of England is the security of the modern world." + +Perhaps nothing in any of his vigorous paragraphs is more striking than +the suggestion that "if hereafter the war of races often predicted, +and making itself a war of opinions also (a question of despotism +and liberty coming from Eastern Europe), should menace the English +civilization, these sea-kings may take once again to their floating +castles and find a new home and a second millennium of power in their +colonies." + +In reading some of Emerson's pages it seems as if another Arcadia, or +the new Atlantis, had emerged as the fortunate island of Great Britain, +or that he had reached a heaven on earth where neither moth nor rust +doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal,--or if +they do, never think of denying that they have done it. But this was a +generation ago, when the noun "shoddy," and the verb "to scamp," had not +grown such familiar terms to English ears as they are to-day. Emerson +saw the country on its best side. Each traveller makes his own England. +A Quaker sees chiefly broad brims, and the island looks to him like a +field of mushrooms. + +The transplanted Church of England is rich and prosperous and +fashionable enough not to be disturbed by Emerson's flashes of light +that have not come through its stained windows. + + "The religion of England is part of good-breeding. When you see on + the continent the well-dressed Englishman come into his ambassador's + chapel, and put his face for silent prayer into his smooth-brushed + hat, one cannot help feeling how much national pride prays with him, + and the religion of a gentleman. + + "The church at this moment is much to be pitied. She has nothing + left but possession. If a bishop meets an intelligent gentleman, and + reads fatal interrogation in his eyes, he has no resource but to + take wine with him." + +Sydney Smith had a great reverence for a bishop,--so great that he told +a young lady that he used to roll a crumb of bread in his hand, from +nervousness, when he sat next one at a dinner-table,--and if next an +archbishop, used to roll crumbs with both hands,---but Sydney Smith +would have enjoyed the tingling felicity of this last stinging touch +of wit, left as lightly and gracefully as a _banderillero_ leaves his +little gayly ribboned dart in the shoulders of the bull with whose +unwieldy bulk he is playing. + +Emerson handles the formalism and the half belief of the Established +Church very freely, but he closes his chapter on Religion with +soft-spoken words. + + "Yet if religion be the doing of all good, and for its sake + the suffering of all evil, _souffrir de tout le monde, + et ne faire souffrir personne,_ that divine secret has existed in + England from the days of Alfred to those of Romilly, of Clarkson, + and of Florence Nightingale, and in thousands who have no fame." + +"English Traits" closes with Emerson's speech at Manchester, at the +annual banquet of the "Free Trade Athenaeum." This was merely an +occasional after-dinner reply to a toast which called him up, but it had +sentences in it which, if we can imagine Milton to have been called up +in the same way, he might well have spoken and done himself credit in +their utterance. + + * * * * * + +The total impression left by the book is that Emerson was fascinated +by the charm of English society, filled with admiration of the people, +tempted to contrast his New Englanders in many respects unfavorably with +Old Englanders, mainly in their material and vital stamina; but with all +this not blinded for a moment to the thoroughly insular limitations +of the phlegmatic islander. He alternates between a turn of genuine +admiration and a smile as at a people that has not outgrown its +playthings. This is in truth the natural and genuine feeling of a +self-governing citizen of a commonwealth where thrones and wigs and +mitres seem like so many pieces of stage property. An American need not +be a philosopher to hold these things cheap. He cannot help it. Madame +Tussaud's exhibition, the Lord-Mayor's gilt coach, and a coronation, if +one happens to be in season, are all sights to be seen by an American +traveller, but the reverence which is born with the British subject went +up with the smoke of the gun that fired the long echoing shot at the +little bridge over the sleepy river which works its way along through +the wide-awake town of Concord. + +In November, 1857, a new magazine was established in Boston, bearing +the name of "The Atlantic Monthly." Professor James Russell Lowell +was editor-in-chief, and Messrs. Phillips and Sampson, who were the +originators of the enterprise, were the publishers. Many of the old +contributors to "The Dial" wrote for the new magazine, among them +Emerson. He contributed twenty-eight articles in all, more than half of +them verse, to different numbers, from the first to the thirty-seventh +volume. Among them are several of his best known poems, such as "The +Romany Girl," "Days," "Brahma," "Waldeinsamkeit," "The Titmouse," +"Boston Hymn," "Saadi," and "Terminus." + +At about the same time there grew up in Boston a literary association, +which became at last well known as the "Saturday Club," the members +dining together on the last Saturday of every month. + +The Magazine and the Club have existed and flourished to the present +day. They have often been erroneously thought to have some organic +connection, and the "Atlantic Club" has been spoken of as if there was +or had been such an institution, but it never existed. + +Emerson was a member of the Saturday Club from the first; in reality +before it existed as an empirical fact, and when it was only a Platonic +idea. The Club seems to have shaped itself around him as a nucleus of +crystallization, two or three friends of his having first formed the +habit of meeting him at dinner at "Parker's," the "Will's Coffee-House" +of Boston. This little group gathered others to itself and grew into a +club as Rome grew into a city, almost without knowing how. During its +first decade the Saturday Club brought together, as members or as +visitors, many distinguished persons. At one end of the table sat +Longfellow, florid, quiet, benignant, soft-voiced, a most agreeable +rather than a brilliant talker, but a man upon whom it was always +pleasant to look,--whose silence was better than many another man's +conversation. At the other end of the table sat Agassiz, robust, +sanguine, animated, full of talk, boy-like in his laughter. The stranger +who should have asked who were the men ranged along the sides of the +table would have heard in answer the names of Hawthorne, Motley, Dana, +Lowell, Whipple, Peirce, the distinguished mathematician, Judge Hoar, +eminent at the bar and in the cabinet, Dwight, the leading musical +critic of Boston for a whole generation, Sumner, the academic champion +of freedom, Andrew, "the great War Governor" of Massachusetts, Dr. Howe, +the philanthropist, William Hunt, the painter, with others not unworthy +of such company. And with these, generally near the Longfellow end of +the table, sat Emerson, talking in low tones and carefully measured +utterances to his neighbor, or listening, and recording on his mental +phonograph any stray word worth remembering. Emerson was a very regular +attendant at the meetings of the Saturday Club, and continued to dine at +its table, until within a year or two of his death. + +Unfortunately the Club had no Boswell, and its golden hours passed +unrecorded. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +1858-1863: AET. 55-60. + +Essay on Persian Poetry.--Speech at the Burns Centennial +Festival--Letter from Emerson to a Lady.--Tributes to Theodore Parker +and to Thoreau.--Address on the Emancipation Proclamation.--Publication +of "The Conduct of Life." Contents: Fate; Power; Wealth; Culture; +Behavior; Worship; Considerations by the Way; Beauty; Illusions. + + +The Essay on Persian Poetry, published in the "Atlantic Monthly" in +1858, should be studied by all readers who are curious in tracing the +influence of Oriental poetry on Emerson's verse. In many of the shorter +poems and fragments published since "May-Day," as well as in the +"Quatrains" and others of the later poems in that volume, it is +sometimes hard to tell what is from the Persian from what is original. + +On the 25th of January, 1859, Emerson attended the Burns Festival, held +at the Parker House in Boston, on the Centennial Anniversary of the +poet's birth. He spoke after the dinner to the great audience with such +beauty and eloquence that all who listened to him have remembered it as +one of the most delightful addresses they ever heard. Among his hearers +was Mr. Lowell, who says of it that "every word seemed to have just +dropped down to him from the clouds." Judge Hoar, who was another of his +hearers, says, that though he has heard many of the chief orators of his +time, he never witnessed such an effect of speech upon men. I was myself +present on that occasion, and underwent the same fascination that these +gentlemen and the varied audience before the speaker experienced. His +words had a passion in them not usual in the calm, pure flow most +natural to his uttered thoughts; white-hot iron we are familiar with, +but white-hot silver is what we do not often look upon, and his +inspiring address glowed like silver fresh from the cupel. + +I am allowed the privilege of printing the following letter addressed +to a lady of high intellectual gifts, who was one of the earliest, most +devoted, and most faithful of his intimate friends:-- + + +CONCORD, May 13, 1859. + +Please, dear C., not to embark for home until I have despatched these +lines, which I will hasten to finish. Louis Napoleon will not bayonet +you the while,--keep him at the door. So long I have promised to +write! so long I have thanked your long suffering! I have let pass the +unreturning opportunity your visit to Germany gave to acquaint you with +Gisela von Arnim (Bettina's daughter), and Joachim the violinist, and +Hermann Grimm the scholar, her friends. Neither has E.,--wandering in +Europe with hope of meeting you,--yet met. This contumacy of mine I +shall regret as long as I live. How palsy creeps over us, with gossamer +first, and ropes afterwards! and the witch has the prisoner when +once she has put her eye on him, as securely as after the bolts are +drawn.--Yet I and all my little company watch every token from you, and +coax Mrs. H. to read us letters. I learned with satisfaction that you +did not like Germany. Where then did Goethe find his lovers? Do all the +women have bad noses and bad mouths? And will you stop in England, and +bring home the author of "Counterparts" with you? Or did----write the +novels and send them to London, as I fancied when I read them? How +strange that you and I alone to this day should have his secret! I think +our people will never allow genius, without it is alloyed by talent. +But----is paralyzed by his whims, that I have ceased to hope from him. +I could wish your experience of your friends were more animating than +mine, and that there were any horoscope you could not cast from the +first day. The faults of youth are never shed, no, nor the merits, and +creeping time convinces ever the more of our impotence, and of the +irresistibility of our bias. Still this is only science, and must remain +science. Our _praxis_ is never altered for that. We must forever hold +our companions responsible, or they are not companions but stall-fed. + +I think, as we grow older, we decrease as individuals, and as if in an +immense audience who hear stirring music, none essays to offer a new +stave, but we only join emphatically in the chorus. We volunteer +no opinion, we despair of guiding people, but are confirmed in +our perception that Nature is all right, and that we have a good +understanding with it. We must shine to a few brothers, as palms or +pines or roses among common weeds, not from greater absolute value, but +from a more convenient nature. But 'tis almost chemistry at last, though +a meta-chemistry. I remember you were such an impatient blasphemer, +however musically, against the adamantine identities, in your youth, +that you should take your turn of resignation now, and be a preacher of +peace. But there is a little raising of the eyebrow, now and then, in +the most passive acceptance,--if of an intellectual turn. Here comes out +around me at this moment the new June,--the leaves say June, though the +calendar says May,--and we must needs hail our young relatives again, +though with something of the gravity of adult sons and daughters +receiving a late-born brother or sister. Nature herself seems a little +ashamed of a law so monstrous, billions of summers, and now the old game +again without a new bract or sepal. But you will think me incorrigible +with my generalities, and you so near, and will be here again this +summer; perhaps with A.W. and the other travellers. My children scan +curiously your E.'s drawings, as they have seen them. + +The happiest winds fill the sails of you and yours! + +R.W. EMERSON. + + +In the year 1860, Theodore Parker died, and Emerson spoke +of his life and labors at the meeting held at the Music Hall to do honor +to his memory. Emerson delivered discourses on Sundays and week-days in +the Music Hall to Mr. Parker's society after his death. In 1862, he lost +his friend Thoreau, at whose funeral he delivered an address which was +published in the "Atlantic Monthly" for August of the same year. Thoreau +had many rare and admirable qualities, and Thoreau pictured by Emerson +is a more living personage than White of Selborne would have been on the +canvas of Sir Joshua Reynolds. + +The Address on the Emancipation Proclamation was delivered in Boston +in September, 1862. The feeling that inspired it may be judged by the +following extract:-- + + "Happy are the young, who find the pestilence cleansed out of the + earth, leaving open to them an honest career. Happy the old, who see + Nature purified before they depart. Do not let the dying die; hold + them back to this world, until you have charged their ear and heart + with this message to other spiritual societies, announcing the + melioration of our planet:-- + + "'Incertainties now crown themselves assured, + And Peace proclaims olives of endless age.'" + +The "Conduct of Life" was published in 1860. The chapter on "Fate" might +leave the reader with a feeling that what he is to do, as well as what +he is to be and to suffer, is so largely predetermined for him, that +his will, though formally asserted, has but a questionable fraction in +adjusting him to his conditions as a portion of the universe. But let +him hold fast to this reassuring statement:-- + + "If we must accept Fate, we are not less compelled to affirm + liberty, the significance of the individual, the grandeur of duty, + the power of character.--We are sure, that, though we know not how, + necessity does comport with liberty, the individual with the world, + my polarity with the spirit of the times." + +But the value of the Essay is not so much in any light it throws on the +mystery of volition, as on the striking and brilliant way in which the +limitations of the individual and the inexplicable rule of law are +illustrated. + + "Nature is no sentimentalist,--does not cosset or pamper us. We must + see that the world is rough and surly, and will not mind drowning a + man or a woman; but swallows your ship like a grain of dust.--The + way of Providence is a little rude. The habit of snake and spider, + the snap of the tiger and other leapers and bloody jumpers, the + crackle of the bones of his prey in the coil of the anaconda,--these + are in the system, and our habits are like theirs. You have just + dined, and however scrupulously the slaughterhouse is concealed in + the graceful distance of miles, there is complicity,--expensive + races,--race living at the expense of race.--Let us not deny it up + and down. Providence has a wild, rough, incalculable road to its + end, and it is of no use to try to whitewash its huge, mixed + instrumentalities, or to dress up that terrific benefactor in a + clean shirt and white neckcloth of a student in divinity." + +Emerson cautions his reader against the danger of the doctrines which he +believed in so fully:-- + + "They who talk much of destiny, their birth-star, etc., are in a + lower dangerous plane, and invite the evils they fear." + +But certainly no physiologist, no cattle-breeder, no Calvinistic +predestinarian could put his view more vigorously than Emerson, who +dearly loves a picturesque statement, has given it in these words, +which have a dash of science, a flash of imagination, and a hint of the +delicate wit that is one of his characteristics:-- + + "People are born with the moral or with the material bias;--uterine + brothers with this diverging destination: and I suppose, with + high magnifiers, Mr. Fraunhofer or Dr. Carpenter might come to + distinguish in the embryo at the fourth day, this is a whig and that + a free-soiler." + +Let us see what Emerson has to say of "Power:"-- + + "All successful men have agreed in one thing--they were + _causationists_. They believed that things went not by luck, but by + law; that there was not a weak or a cracked link in the chain that + joins the first and the last of things. + + "The key to the age may be this, or that, or the other, as the young + orators describe;--the key to all ages is,--Imbecility; imbecility + in the vast majority of men at all times, and, even in heroes, in + all but certain eminent moments; victims of gravity, custom, and + fear. This gives force to the strong,--that the multitude have no + habit of self-reliance or original action.-- + + "We say that success is constitutional; depends on a _plus_ + condition of mind and body, on power of work, on courage; that is of + main efficacy in carrying on the world, and though rarely found + in the right state for an article of commerce, but oftener in the + supernatural or excess, which makes it dangerous and destructive, + yet it cannot be spared, and must be had in that form, and + absorbents provided to take off its edge." + +The "two economies which are the best _succedanea"_ for deficiency of +temperament are concentration and drill. This he illustrates by example, +and he also lays down some good, plain, practical rules which "Poor +Richard" would have cheerfully approved. He might have accepted also the +Essay on "Wealth" as having a good sense so like his own that he could +hardly tell the difference between them. + + "Wealth begins in a tight roof that keeps the rain and + wind out; in a good pump that yields you plenty of sweet + water; in two suits of clothes, so as to change your dress + when you are wet; in dry sticks to burn; in a good double-wick + lamp, and three meals; in a horse or locomotive to cross + the land; in a boat to cross the sea; in tools to work with; in + books to read; and so, in giving, on all sides, by tools and + auxiliaries, the greatest possible extension to our powers, as if it + added feet, and hands, and eyes, and blood, length to the day, + and knowledge and good will. Wealth begins with these articles of + necessity.-- + + "To be rich is to have a ticket of admission to the masterworks and + chief men of each race.-- + + "The pulpit and the press have many commonplaces denouncing the + thirst for wealth; but if men should take these moralists at their + word, and leave off aiming to be rich, the moralists would rush + to rekindle at all hazards this love of power in the people, lest + civilization should be undone." + +Who can give better counsels on "Culture" than Emerson? But we must +borrow only a few sentences from his essay on that subject. All kinds of +secrets come out as we read these Essays of Emerson's. We know something +of his friends and disciples who gathered round him and sat at his feet. +It is not hard to believe that he was drawing one of those composite +portraits Mr. Galton has given us specimens of when he wrote as +follows:-- + + "The pest of society is egotism. This goitre of egotism + is so frequent among notable persons that we must infer some strong + necessity in nature which it subserves; such as we see in the sexual + attraction. The preservation of the species was a point of such + necessity that Nature has secured it at all hazards by immensely + overloading the passion, at the risk of perpetual crime and + disorder. So egotism has its root in the cardinal necessity by which + each individual persists to be what he is. + + "The antidotes against this organic egotism are, the range and + variety of attraction, as gained by acquaintance with the world, + with men of merit, with classes of society, with travel, with + eminent persons, and with the high resources of philosophy, art, and + religion: books, travel, society, solitude." + + "We can ill spare the commanding social benefits of cities; they + must be used; yet cautiously and haughtily,--and will yield their + best values to him who can best do without them. Keep the town for + occasions, but the habits should be formed to retirement. Solitude, + the safeguard of mediocrity, is to genius the stern friend, the + cold, obscure shelter, where moult the wings which will bear it + farther than suns and stars." + +We must remember, too, that "the calamities are our friends. Try the +rough water as well as the smooth. Rough water can teach lessons worth +knowing. Don't be so tender at making an enemy now and then. He who aims +high, must dread an easy home and popular manners." + +Emerson cannot have had many enemies, if any, in his calm and noble +career. He can have cherished no enmity, on personal grounds at least. +But he refused his hand to one who had spoken ill of a friend whom he +respected. It was "the hand of Douglas" again,--the same feeling that +Charles Emerson expressed in the youthful essay mentioned in the +introduction to this volume. + +Here are a few good sayings about "Behavior." + + "There is always a best way of doing everything, if it be to boil an + egg. Manners are the happy ways of doing things; each once a stroke + of genius or of love,--now repeated and hardened into usage." + +Thus it is that Mr. Emerson speaks of "Manners" in his Essay under the +above title. + + "The basis of good manners is self-reliance.--Manners require time, + as nothing is more vulgar than haste.-- + + "Men take each other's measure, when they meet for the first + time,--and every time they meet.-- + + "It is not what talents or genius a man has, but how he is to his + talents, that constitutes friendship and character. The man that + stands by himself, the universe stands by him also." + +In his Essay on "Worship," Emerson ventures the following prediction:-- + + "The religion which is to guide and fulfil the present and coming + ages, whatever else it be, must be intellectual. The scientific mind + must have a faith which is science.--There will be a new church + founded on moral science, at first cold and naked, a babe in a + manger again, the algebra and mathematics of ethical law, the church + of men to come, without shawms or psaltery or sackbut; but it will + have heaven and earth for its beams and rafters; science for symbol + and illustration; it will fast enough gather beauty, music, picture, + poetry." + +It is a bold prophecy, but who can doubt that all improbable and +unverifiable traditional knowledge of all kinds will make way for the +established facts of science and history when these last reach it in +their onward movement? It may be remarked that he now speaks of science +more respectfully than of old. I suppose this Essay was of later date +than "Beauty," or "Illusions." But accidental circumstances made such +confusion in the strata of Emerson's published thought that one is often +at a loss to know whether a sentence came from the older or the newer +layer. + +We come to "Considerations by the Way." The common-sense side of +Emerson's mind has so much in common with the plain practical +intelligence of Franklin that it is a pleasure to find the philosopher +of the nineteenth century quoting the philosopher of the eighteenth. + + "Franklin said, 'Mankind are very superficial and dastardly: they + begin upon a thing, but, meeting with a difficulty, they fly from it + discouraged; but they have the means if they would employ them.'" + +"Shall we judge a country by the majority, or by the minority? By the +minority, surely." Here we have the doctrine of the "saving remnant," +which we have since recognized in Mr. Matthew Arnold's well-remembered +lecture. Our republican philosopher is clearly enough outspoken on this +matter of the _vox populi_. "Leave this hypocritical prating about the +masses. Masses are rude, lame, unmade, pernicious in their demands, and +need not to be flattered, but to be schooled. I wish not to concede +anything to them, but to tame, drill, divide, and break them up, and +draw individuals out of them." + +Père Bouhours asked a question about the Germans which found its answer +in due time. After reading what Emerson says about "the masses," one is +tempted to ask whether a philosopher can ever have "a constituency" and +be elected to Congress? Certainly the essay just quoted from would not +make a very promising campaign document. Perhaps there was no great +necessity for Emerson's returning to the subject of "Beauty," to which +he had devoted a chapter of "Nature," and of which he had so often +discoursed incidentally. But he says so many things worth reading in the +Essay thus entitled in the "Conduct of Life" that we need not trouble +ourselves about repetitions. The Essay is satirical and poetical rather +than philosophical. Satirical when he speaks of science with something +of that old feeling betrayed by his brother Charles when he was writing +in 1828; poetical in the flight of imagination with which he enlivens, +entertains, stimulates, inspires,--or as some may prefer to say,--amuses +his listeners and readers. + +The reader must decide which of these effects is produced by the +following passage:-- + + "The feat of the imagination is in showing the convertibility of + everything into every other thing. Facts which had never before left + their stark common sense suddenly figure as Eleusinian mysteries. My + boots and chair and candlestick are fairies in disguise, meteors, + and constellations. All the facts in Nature are nouns of the + intellect, and make the grammar of the eternal language. Every word + has a double, treble, or centuple use and meaning. What! has my + stove and pepper-pot a false bottom? I cry you mercy, good shoe-box! + I did not know you were a jewel-case. Chaff and dust begin to + sparkle, and are clothed about with immortality. And there is a joy + in perceiving the representative or symbolic character of a fact, + which no base fact or event can ever give. There are no days + so memorable as those which vibrated to some stroke of the + imagination." + +One is reminded of various things in reading this sentence. An ounce +of alcohol, or a few whiffs from an opium-pipe, may easily make a day +memorable by bringing on this imaginative delirium, which is apt, if +often repeated, to run into visions of rodents and reptiles. A +coarser satirist than Emerson indulged his fancy in "Meditations on a +Broomstick," which My Lady Berkeley heard seriously and to edification. +Meditations on a "Shoe-box" are less promising, but no doubt something +could be made of it. A poet must select, and if he stoops too low he +cannot lift the object he would fain idealize. + +The habitual readers of Emerson do not mind an occasional +over-statement, extravagance, paradox, eccentricity; they find them +amusing and not misleading. But the accountants, for whom two and two +always make four, come upon one of these passages and shut the book up +as wanting in sanity. Without a certain sensibility to the humorous, no +one should venture upon Emerson. If he had seen the lecturer's smile +as he delivered one of his playful statements of a runaway truth, fact +unhorsed by imagination, sometimes by wit, or humor, he would have found +a meaning in his words which the featureless printed page could never +show him. + +The Essay on "Illusions" has little which we have not met with, or shall +not find repeating itself in the Poems. + +During this period Emerson contributed many articles in prose and +verse to the "Atlantic Monthly," and several to "The Dial," a second +periodical of that name published in Cincinnati. Some of these have +been, or will be, elsewhere referred to. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +1863-1868. AET. 60-65. + +"Boston Hymn."--"Voluntaries."--Other Poems.--"May-Day and other +Pieces."--"Remarks at the Funeral Services of Abraham Lincoln."--Essay +on Persian Poetry.--Address at a Meeting of the Free Religious +Association.--"Progress of Culture." Address before the Phi Beta +Kappa Society of Harvard University.--Course of Lectures in +Philadelphia.--The Degree of LL.D. conferred upon Emerson by Harvard +University.--"Terminus." + + +The "Boston Hymn" was read by Emerson in the Music Hall, on the first +day of January, 1863. It is a rough piece of verse, but noble from +beginning to end. One verse of it, beginning "Pay ransom to the owner," +has been already quoted; these are the three that precede it:-- + + "I cause from every creature + His proper good to flow: + As much as he is and doeth + So much shall he bestow. + + "But laying hands on another + To coin his labor and sweat, + He goes in pawn to his victim + For eternal years in debt. + + "To-day unbind the captive, + So only are ye unbound: + Lift up a people from the dust, + Trump of their rescue, sound!" + +"Voluntaries," published in the same year in the "Atlantic Monthly," is +more dithyrambic in its measure and of a more Pindaric elevation than +the plain song of the "Boston Hymn." + + "But best befriended of the God + He who, in evil times, + Warned by an inward voice, + Heeds not the darkness and the dread, + Biding by his rule and choice, + Feeling only the fiery thread + Leading over heroic ground, + Walled with mortal terror round, + To the aim which him allures, + And the sweet heaven his deed secures. + Peril around, all else appalling, + Cannon in front and leaden rain + Him duly through the clarion calling + To the van called not in vain." + +It is in this poem that we find the lines which, a moment after they +were written, seemed as if they had been carved on marble for a thousand +years:-- + + "So nigh is grandeur to our dust, + So near is God to man, + When Duty whispers low, _Thou must_, + The youth replies, _I can_." + +"Saadi" was published in the "Atlantic Monthly" in 1864, "My Garden" in +1866, "Terminus" in 1867. In the same year these last poems with many +others were collected in a small volume, entitled "May-Day, and +Other Pieces." The general headings of these poems are as follows: +May-Day.--The Adirondacs.--Occasional and Miscellaneous Pieces.--Nature +and Life.--Elements.--Quatrains.--Translations.--Some of these poems, +which were written at long intervals, have been referred to in previous +pages. "The Adirondacs" is a pleasant narrative, but not to be compared +for its poetical character with "May-Day," one passage from which, +beginning, + + "I saw the bud-crowned Spring go forth," + +is surpassingly imaginative and beautiful. In this volume will be found +"Brahma," "Days," and others which are well known to all readers of +poetry. + +Emerson's delineations of character are remarkable for high-relief and +sharp-cut lines. In his Remarks at the Funeral Services for Abraham +Lincoln, held in Concord, April 19, 1865, he drew the portrait of the +homespun-robed chief of the Republic with equal breadth and delicacy:-- + + "Here was place for no holiday magistrate, no fair weather sailor; + the new pilot was hurried to the helm in a tornado. In four + years,--four years of battle-days,--his endurance, his fertility + of resources, his magnanimity, were sorely tried and never found + wanting. There, by his courage, his justice, his even temper, his + fertile counsel, his humanity, he stood a heroic figure in the + centre of a heroic epoch. He is the true history of the American + people in his time. Step by step he walked before them; slow + with their slowness, quickening his march by theirs, the true + representative of this continent; an entirely public man; father of + his country; the pulse of twenty millions throbbing in his heart, + the thought of their minds articulated by his tongue." + +In his "Remarks at the Organization of the Free Religious Association," +Emerson stated his leading thought about religion in a very succinct and +sufficiently "transcendental" way: intelligibly for those who wish to +understand him; mystically to those who do not accept or wish to accept +the doctrine shadowed forth in his poem, "The Sphinx." + + --"As soon as every man is apprised of the Divine Presence within + his own mind,--is apprised that the perfect law of duty corresponds + with the laws of chemistry, of vegetation, of astronomy, as face to + face in a glass; that the basis of duty, the order of society, the + power of character, the wealth of culture, the perfection of taste, + all draw their essence from this moral sentiment; then we have a + religion that exalts, that commands all the social and all the + private action." + +Nothing could be more wholesome in a meeting of creed-killers than the +suggestive remark,-- + + --"What I expected to find here was, some practical suggestions by + which we were to reanimate and reorganize for ourselves the true + Church, the pure worship. Pure doctrine always bears fruit in pure + benefits. It is only by good works, it is only on the basis of + active duty, that worship finds expression.--The interests that grow + out of a meeting like this, should bind us with new strength to the + old eternal duties." + + In a later address before the same association, Emerson says:-- + "I object, of course, to the claim of miraculous + dispensation,--certainly not to the _doctrine_ of Christianity.--If + you are childish and exhibit your saint as a worker of wonders, a + thaumaturgist, I am repelled. That claim takes his teachings out of + nature, and permits official and arbitrary senses to be grafted on + the teachings." + +The "Progress of Culture" was delivered as a Phi Beta Kappa oration just +thirty years after his first address before the same society. It is very +instructive to compare the two orations written at the interval of a +whole generation: one in 1837, at the age of thirty-four; the other in +1867, at the age of sixty-four. Both are hopeful, but the second is more +sanguine than the first. He recounts what he considers the recent gains +of the reforming movement:-- + + "Observe the marked ethical quality of the innovations urged or + adopted. The new claim of woman to a political status is itself an + honorable testimony to the civilization which has given her a civil + status new in history. Now that by the increased humanity of law she + controls her property, she inevitably takes the next step to her + share in power." + +He enumerates many other gains, from the war or from the growth of +intelligence,--"All, one may say, in a high degree revolutionary, +teaching nations the taking of governments into their own hands, and +superseding kings." + +He repeats some of his fundamental formulae. + + "The foundation of culture, as of character, is at last the moral + sentiment. + + "Great men are they who see that spiritual is stronger than any + material force, that thoughts rule the world. + + "Periodicity, reaction, are laws of mind as well as of matter." + +And most encouraging it is to read in 1884 what was written in +1867,--especially in the view of future possibilities. "Bad kings and +governors help us, if only they are bad enough." _Non tali auxilio_, we +exclaim, with a shudder of remembrance, and are very glad to read these +concluding words: "I read the promise of better times and of greater +men." + +In the year 1866, Emerson reached the age which used to be spoken of as +the "grand climacteric." In that year Harvard University conferred upon +him the degree of Doctor of Laws, the highest honor in its gift. + +In that same year, having left home on one of his last lecturing trips, +he met his son, Dr. Edward Waldo Emerson, at the Brevoort House, in New +York. Then, and in that place, he read to his son the poem afterwards +published in the "Atlantic Monthly," and in his second volume, under the +title "Terminus." This was the first time that Dr. Emerson recognized +the fact that his father felt himself growing old. The thought, which +must have been long shaping itself in the father's mind, had been so far +from betraying itself that it was a shock to the son to hear it plainly +avowed. The poem is one of his noblest; he could not fold his robes +about him with more of serene dignity than in these solemn lines. The +reader may remember that one passage from it has been quoted for a +particular purpose, but here is the whole poem:-- + + TERMINUS. + + It is time to be old, + To take in sail:-- + The god of bounds, + Who sets to seas a shore, + Came to me in his fatal rounds, + And said: "No more! + No farther shoot + Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. + Fancy departs: no more invent; + Contract thy firmament + To compass of a tent. + There's not enough for this and that, + Make thy option which of two; + Economize the failing river, + Not the less revere the Giver, + Leave the many and hold the few, + Timely wise accept the terms, + Soften the fall with wary foot; + A little while + Still plan and smile, + And,--fault of novel germs,-- + Mature the unfallen fruit. + Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, + Bad husbands of their fires, + Who when they gave thee breath, + Failed to bequeath + The needful sinew stark as once, + The baresark marrow to thy bones, + But left a legacy of ebbing veins, + Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,-- + Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb, + Amid the gladiators, halt and numb. + + "As the bird trims her to the gale + I trim myself to the storm of time, + I man the rudder, reef the sail, + Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: + 'Lowly faithful, banish fear, + Right onward drive unharmed; + The port, well worth the cruise, is near, + And every wave is charmed.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +1868-1873. AET. 65-70. + +Lectures on the Natural History of the Intellect.--Publication +of "Society and Solitude." Contents: Society and Solitude. +--Civilization.--Art.--Eloquence.--Domestic Life.--Farming. +--Works and Days.--Books.--Clubs.--Courage.--Success.--Old Age.--Other +Literary Labors.--Visit to California.--Burning of his House, and the +Story of its Rebuilding.--Third Visit to Europe.--His Reception at +Concord on his Return. + + +During three successive years, 1868, 1869, 1870, Emerson delivered a +series of Lectures at Harvard University on the "Natural History of the +Intellect." These Lectures, as I am told by Dr. Emerson, cost him a +great deal of labor, but I am not aware that they have been collected or +reported. They will be referred to in the course of this chapter, in an +extract from Prof. Thayer's "Western Journey with Mr. Emerson." He is +there reported as saying that he cared very little for metaphysics. +It is very certain that he makes hardly any use of the ordinary terms +employed by metaphysicians. If he does not hold the words "subject and +object" with their adjectives, in the same contempt that Mr. Ruskin +shows for them, he very rarely employs either of these expressions. +Once he ventures on the _not me_, but in the main he uses plain English +handles for the few metaphysical tools he has occasion to employ. + +"Society and Solitude" was published in 1870. The first Essay in the +volume bears the same name as the volume itself. + +In this first Essay Emerson is very fair to the antagonistic claims +of solitary and social life. He recognizes the organic necessity of +solitude. We are driven "as with whips into the desert." But there is +danger in this seclusion. "Now and then a man exquisitely made can live +alone and must; but coop up most men and you undo them.--Here again, as +so often, Nature delights to put us between extreme antagonisms, and +our safety is in the skill with which we keep the diagonal line.--The +conditions are met, if we keep our independence yet do not lose our +sympathy." + +The Essay on "Civilization" is pleasing, putting familiar facts in a +very agreeable way. The framed or stone-house in place of the cave or +the camp, the building of roads, the change from war, hunting, +and pasturage to agriculture, the division of labor, the skilful +combinations of civil government, the diffusion of knowledge through the +press, are well worn subjects which he treats agreeably, if not with +special brilliancy:-- + + "Right position of woman in the State is another index.--Place the + sexes in right relations of mutual respect, and a severe morality + gives that essential charm to a woman which educates all that + is delicate, poetic, and self-sacrificing; breeds courtesy and + learning, conversation and wit, in her rough mate, so that I have + thought a sufficient measure of civilization is the influence of + good women." + +My attention was drawn to one paragraph for a reason which my reader +will readily understand, and I trust look upon good-naturedly:-- + + "The ship, in its latest complete equipment, is an abridgment and + compend of a nation's arts: the ship steered by compass and chart, + longitude reckoned by lunar observation and by chronometer, driven + by steam; and in wildest sea-mountains, at vast distances from + home,-- + + "'The pulses of her iron heart + Go beating through the storm.'" + +I cannot be wrong, it seems to me, in supposing those two lines to be +an incorrect version of these two from a poem of my own called "The +Steamboat:" + + "The beating of her restless heart + Still sounding through the storm." + +It is never safe to quote poetry from memory, at least while the writer +lives, for he is ready to "cavil on the ninth part of a hair" where his +verses are concerned. But extreme accuracy was not one of Emerson's +special gifts, and vanity whispers to the misrepresented versifier that + + 'tis better to be quoted wrong + Than to be quoted not at all. + +This Essay of Emerson's is irradiated by a single precept that is worthy +to stand by the side of that which Juvenal says came from heaven. How +could the man in whose thought such a meteoric expression suddenly +announced itself fail to recognize it as divine? It is not strange that +he repeats it on the page next the one where we first see it. Not having +any golden letters to print it in, I will underscore it for italics, and +doubly underscore it in the second extract for small capitals:-- + + "Now that is the wisdom of a man, in every instance of his labor, + to _hitch his wagon to a star_, and see his chore done by the gods + themselves."-- + + "'It was a great instruction,' said a saint in Cromwell's war, 'that + the best courages are but beams of the Almighty.' HITCH YOUR WAGON + TO A STAR. Let us not fag in paltry works which serve our pot and + bag alone. Let us not lie and steal. No god will help. We shall find + all their teams going the other way,--Charles's Wain, Great Bear, + Orion, Leo, Hercules: every god will leave us. Work rather for those + interests which the divinities honor and promote,--justice, love, + freedom, knowledge, utility."-- + +Charles's Wain and the Great Bear, he should have been reminded, are the +same constellation; the _Dipper_ is what our people often call it, and +the country folk all know "the pinters," which guide their eyes to the +North Star. + +I find in the Essay on "Art" many of the thoughts with which we are +familiar in Emerson's poem, "The Problem." It will be enough to cite +these passages:-- + + "We feel in seeing a noble building which rhymes well, as we do in + hearing a perfect song, that it is spiritually organic; that it had + a necessity in nature for being; was one of the possible forms in + the Divine mind, and is now only discovered and executed by the + artist, not arbitrarily composed by him. And so every genuine work + of art has as much reason for being as the earth and the sun.-- + + --"The Iliad of Homer, the songs of David, the odes of Pindar, the + tragedies of Aeschylus, the Doric temples, the Gothic cathedrals, + the plays of Shakspeare, all and each were made not for sport, but + in grave earnest, in tears and smiles of suffering and loving men.-- + + --"The Gothic cathedrals were built when the builder and the priest + and the people were overpowered by their faith. Love and fear laid + every stone.-- + + "Our arts are happy hits. We are like the musician on the lake, + whose melody is sweeter than he knows." + +The discourse on "Eloquence" is more systematic, more professorial, +than many of the others. A few brief extracts will give the key to its +general purport:-- + + "Eloquence must be grounded on the plainest narrative. Afterwards, + it may warm itself until it exhales symbols of every kind and color, + speaks only through the most poetic forms; but, first and last, it + must still be at bottom a biblical statement of fact.-- + + "He who will train himself to mastery in this science of persuasion + must lay the emphasis of education, not on popular arts, but on + character and insight.-- + + --"The highest platform of eloquence is the moral sentiment.-- + + --"Its great masters ... were grave men, who preferred their + integrity to their talent, and esteemed that object for which they + toiled, whether the prosperity of their country, or the laws, or a + reformation, or liberty of speech, or of the press, or letters, or + morals, as above the whole world and themselves also." + +"Domestic Life" begins with a picture of childhood so charming that it +sweetens all the good counsel which follows like honey round the rim of +the goblet which holds some tonic draught:-- + + "Welcome to the parents the puny struggler, strong in + his weakness, his little arms more irresistible than the + soldier's, his lips touched with persuasion which Chatham + and Pericles in manhood had not. His unaffected lamentations + when he lifts up his voice on high, or, more beautiful, + the sobbing child,--the face all liquid grief, as he tries to + swallow his vexation,--soften all hearts to pity, and to mirthful + and clamorous compassion. The small despot asks so little that + all reason and all nature are on his side. His ignorance is more + charming than all knowledge, and his little sins more bewitching + than any virtue. His flesh is angels' flesh, all alive.--All day, + between his three or four sleeps, he coos like a pigeon-house, + sputters and spurs and puts on his faces of importance; and when he + fasts, the little Pharisee fails not to sound his trumpet before + him." + +Emerson has favored his audiences and readers with what he knew about +"Farming." Dr. Emerson tells me that this discourse was read as an +address before the "Middlesex Agricultural Society," and printed in the +"Transactions" of that association. He soon found out that the hoe and +the spade were not the tools he was meant to work with, but he had some +general ideas about farming which he expressed very happily:-- + + "The farmer's office is precise and important, but you must not try + to paint him in rose-color; you cannot make pretty compliments to + fate and gravitation, whose minister he is.--This hard work will + always be done by one kind of man; not by scheming speculators, nor + by soldiers, nor professors, nor readers of Tennyson; but by men + of endurance, deep-chested, long-winded, tough, slow and sure, and + timely." + +Emerson's chemistry and physiology are not profound, but they are +correct enough to make a fine richly colored poetical picture in his +imaginative presentation. He tells the commonest facts so as to make +them almost a surprise:-- + + "By drainage we went down to a subsoil we did not know, and have + found there is a Concord under old Concord, which we are now getting + the best crops from; a Middlesex under Middlesex; and, in fine, that + Massachusetts has a basement story more valuable and that promises + to pay a better rent than all the superstructure." + +In "Works and Days" there is much good reading, but I will call +attention to one or two points only, as having a slight special interest +of their own. The first is the boldness of Emerson's assertions and +predictions in matters belonging to science and art. Thus, he speaks of +"the transfusion of the blood,--which, in Paris, it was claimed, enables +a man to change his blood as often as his linen!" And once more, + +"We are to have the balloon yet, and the next war will be fought in the +air." + +Possibly; but it is perhaps as safe to predict that it will be fought on +wheels; the soldiers on bicycles, the officers on tricycles. + +The other point I have marked is that we find in this Essay a prose +version of the fine poem, printed in "May-Day" under the title "Days." I +shall refer to this more particularly hereafter. + +It is wronging the Essay on "Books" to make extracts from it. It is all +an extract, taken from years of thought in the lonely study and the +public libraries. If I commit the wrong I have spoken of, it is under +protest against myself. Every word of this Essay deserves careful +reading. But here are a few sentences I have selected for the reader's +consideration:-- + + "There are books; and it is practicable to read them because they + are so few.-- + + "I visit occasionally the Cambridge Library, and I can seldom go + there without renewing the conviction that the best of it all is + already within the four walls of my study at home.-- + + "The three practical rules which I have to offer are, 1. Never read + any book that is not a year old. 2. Never read any but famed books. + 3. Never read any but what you like, or, in Shakspeare's phrase,-- + + "'No profit goes where is no pleasure ta'en; + In brief, Sir, study what you most affect.'" + +Emerson has a good deal to say about conversation in his Essay on +"Clubs," but nothing very notable on the special subject of the Essay. +Perhaps his diary would have something of interest with reference to the +"Saturday Club," of which he was a member, which, in fact, formed itself +around him as a nucleus, and which he attended very regularly. But he +was not given to personalities, and among the men of genius and of +talent whom he met there no one was quieter, but none saw and heard and +remembered more. He was hardly what Dr. Johnson would have called a +"clubable" man, yet he enjoyed the meetings in his still way, or he +would never have come from Concord so regularly to attend them. He gives +two good reasons for the existence of a club like that of which I have +been speaking:-- + + "I need only hint the value of the club for bringing masters in + their several arts to compare and expand their views, to come to + an understanding on these points, and so that their united opinion + shall have its just influence on public questions of education and + politics." + + "A principal purpose also is the hospitality of the club, as a means + of receiving a worthy foreigner with mutual advantage." + +I do not think "public questions of education and politics" were very +prominent at the social meetings of the "Saturday Club," but "worthy +foreigners," and now and then one not so worthy, added variety to the +meetings of the company, which included a wide range of talents and +callings. + +All that Emerson has to say about "Courage" is worth listening to, for +he was a truly brave man in that sphere of action where there are more +cowards than are found in the battle-field. He spoke his convictions +fearlessly; he carried the spear of Ithuriel, but he wore no breastplate +save that which protects him + + "Whose armor is his honest thought, + And simple truth his utmost skill." + +He mentions three qualities as attracting the wonder and reverence of +mankind: 1. Disinterestedness; 2. Practical Power; 3. Courage. "I need +not show how much it is esteemed, for the people give it the first rank. +They forgive everything to it. And any man who puts his life in peril in +a cause which is esteemed becomes the darling of all men."--There are +good and inspiriting lessons for young and old in this Essay or Lecture, +which closes with the spirited ballad of "George Nidiver," written "by a +lady to whom all the particulars of the fact are exactly known." + +Men will read any essay or listen to any lecture which has for its +subject, like the one now before me, "Success." Emerson complains of the +same things in America which Carlyle groaned over in England:-- + + "We countenance each other in this life of show, puffing + advertisement, and manufacture of public opinion; and excellence is + lost sight of in the hunger for sudden performance and praise.-- + + "Now, though I am by no means sure that the reader will assent to + all my propositions, yet I think we shall agree in my first rule for + success,--that we shall drop the brag and the advertisement and take + Michael Angelo's course, 'to confide in one's self and be something + of worth and value.'" + +Reading about "Success" is after all very much like reading in old books +of alchemy. "How not to do it," is the lesson of all the books and +treatises. Geber and Albertus Magnus, Roger Bacon and Raymond Lully, and +the whole crew of "pauperes alcumistae," all give the most elaborate +directions showing their student how to fail in transmuting Saturn into +Luna and Sol and making a billionaire of himself. "Success" in its +vulgar sense,--the gaining of money and position,--is not to be reached +by following the rules of an instructor. Our "self-made men," who govern +the country by their wealth and influence, have found their place by +adapting themselves to the particular circumstances in which they were +placed, and not by studying the broad maxims of "Poor Richard," or any +other moralist or economist.--For such as these is meant the cheap +cynical saying quoted by Emerson, "_Rien ne réussit mieux que le +succès_." + +But this is not the aim and end of Emerson's teaching:-- + + "I fear the popular notion of success stands in direct opposition + in all points to the real and wholesome success. One adores public + opinion, the other private opinion; one fame, the other desert; one + feats, the other humility; one lucre, the other love; one monopoly, + and the other hospitality of mind." + +And so, though there is no alchemy in this Lecture, it is profitable +reading, assigning its true value to the sterling gold of character, +the gaining of which is true success, as against the brazen idol of the +market-place. + +The Essay on "Old Age" has a special value from its containing two +personal reminiscences: one of the venerable Josiah Quincy, a brief +mention; the other the detailed record of a visit in the year 1825, +Emerson being then twenty-two years old, to ex-President John Adams, +soon after the election of his son to the Presidency. It is enough to +allude to these, which every reader will naturally turn to first of all. + +But many thoughts worth gathering are dropped along these pages. He +recounts the benefits of age; the perilous capes and shoals it has +weathered; the fact that a success more or less signifies little, so +that the old man may go below his own mark with impunity; the feeling +that he has found expression,--that his condition, in particular and in +general, allows the utterance of his mind; the pleasure of completing +his secular affairs, leaving all in the best posture for the future:-- + + "When life has been well spent, age is a loss of what it can well + spare, muscular strength, organic instincts, gross bulk, and works + that belong to these. But the central wisdom which was old in + infancy is young in fourscore years, and dropping off obstructions, + leaves in happy subjects the mind purified and wise. I have heard + that whoever loves is in no condition old. I have heard that + whenever the name of man is spoken, the doctrine of immortality is + announced; it cleaves to his constitution. The mode of it baffles + our wit, and no whisper comes to us from the other side. But the + inference from the working of intellect, hiving knowledge, hiving + skill,--at the end of life just ready to be born,--affirms the + inspirations of affection and of the moral sentiment." + +Other literary labors of Emerson during this period were the +Introduction to "Plutarch's Morals" in 1870, and a Preface to William +Ellery Channing's Poem, "The Wanderer," in 1871. He made a speech at +Howard University, Washington, in 1872. + +In the year 1871 Emerson made a visit to California with a very pleasant +company, concerning which Mr. John M. Forbes, one of whose sons married +Emerson's daughter Edith, writes to me as follows. Professor James B. +Thayer, to whom he refers, has more recently written and published an +account of this trip, from which some extracts will follow Mr. Forbes's +letter:-- + + BOSTON, February 6, 1884. + + MY DEAR DR.,--What little I can give will be of a very rambling + character. + + One of the first memories of Emerson which comes up is my meeting + him on the steamboat at returning from Detroit East. I persuaded him + to stop over at Niagara, which he had never seen. We took a carriage + and drove around the circuit. It was in early summer, perhaps in + 1848 or 1849. When we came to Table Rock on the British side, our + driver took us down on the outer part of the rock in the carriage. + We passed on by rail, and the next day's papers brought us the + telegraphic news that Table Rock had fallen over; perhaps we were + among the last persons on it! + + About 1871 I made up a party for California, including Mr. Emerson, + his daughter Edith, and a number of gay young people. We drove with + B----, the famous Vermont coachman, up to the Geysers, and then made + the journey to the Yosemite Valley by wagon and on horseback. I wish + I could give you more than a mere outline picture of the sage at + this time. With the thermometer at 100 degrees he would sometimes + drive with the buffalo robes drawn up over his knees, apparently + indifferent to the weather, gazing on the new and grand scenes + of mountain and valley through which we journeyed. I especially + remember once, when riding down the steep side of a mountain, his + reins hanging loose, the bit entirely out of the horse's mouth, + without his being aware that this was an unusual method of riding + Pegasus, so fixed was his gaze into space, and so unconscious was + he, at the moment, of his surroundings. + + In San Francisco he visited with us the dens of the opium smokers, + in damp cellars, with rows of shelves around, on which were + deposited the stupefied Mongolians; perhaps the lowest haunts of + humanity to be found in the world. The contrast between them and + the serene eye and undisturbed brow of the sage was a sight for all + beholders. + + When we reached Salt Lake City on our way home he made a point of + calling on Brigham Young, then at the summit of his power. The + Prophet, or whatever he was called, was a burly, bull-necked man of + hard sense, really leading a great industrial army. He did not seem + to appreciate who his visitor was, at any rate gave no sign of so + doing, and the chief interest of the scene was the wide contrast + between these leaders of spiritual and of material forces. + + I regret not having kept any notes of what was said on this and + other occasions, but if by chance you could get hold of Professor + J.B. Thayer, who was one of our party, he could no doubt give you + some notes that would be valuable. + + Perhaps the latest picture that remains in my mind of our friend is + his wandering along the beaches and under the trees at Naushon, no + doubt carrying home large stealings from my domain there, which lost + none of their value from being transferred to his pages. Next to + his private readings which he gave us there, the most notable + recollection is that of his intense amusement at some comical songs + which our young people used to sing, developing a sense of humor + which a superficial observer would hardly have discovered, but which + you and I know he possessed in a marked degree. + + Yours always, + + J.M. FORBES. + +Professor James B. Thayer's little book, "A Western Journey with Mr. +Emerson," is a very entertaining account of the same trip concerning +which Mr. Forbes wrote the letter just given. Professor Thayer kindly +read many of his notes to me before his account was published, and +allows me to make such use of the book as I see fit. Such liberty must +not be abused, and I will content myself with a few passages in which +Emerson has a part. No extract will interest the reader more than the +following:-- + + "'How _can_ Mr. Emerson,' said one of the younger members of the + party to me that day, 'be so agreeable, all the time, without + getting tired!' It was the _naive_ expression of what we all had + felt. There was never a more agreeable travelling companion; he was + always accessible, cheerful, sympathetic, considerate, tolerant; and + there was always that same respectful interest in those with whom + he talked, even the humblest, which raised them in their own + estimation. One thing particularly impressed me,--the sense that he + seemed to have of a certain great amplitude of time and leisure. It + was the behavior of one who really _believed_ in an immortal life, + and had adjusted his conduct accordingly; so that, beautiful and + grand as the natural objects were, among which our journey lay, they + were matched by the sweet elevation of character, and the spiritual + charm of our gracious friend. Years afterwards, on that memorable + day of his funeral at Concord, I found that a sentence from his own + Essay on Immortality haunted my mind, and kept repeating itself + all the day long; it seemed to point to the sources of his power: + 'Meantime the true disciples saw through the letter the doctrine of + eternity, which dissolved the poor corpse, and Nature also, and gave + grandeur to the passing hour.'" + +This extract will be appropriately followed by another alluding to the +same subject. + + "The next evening, Sunday, the twenty-third, Mr. Emerson read his + address on 'Immortality,' at Dr. Stebbins's church. It was the first + time that he had spoken on the Western coast; never did he speak + better. It was, in the main, the same noble Essay that has since + been printed. + + "At breakfast the next morning we had the newspaper, the 'Alta + California.' It gave a meagre outline of the address, but praised it + warmly, and closed with the following observations: 'All left the + church feeling that an elegant tribute had been paid to the creative + genius of the Great First Cause, and that a masterly use of the + English language had contributed to that end.'" + +The story used to be told that after the Reverend Horace Holley had +delivered a prayer on some public occasion, Major Ben. Russell, of ruddy +face and ruffled shirt memory, Editor of "The Columbian Centinel," +spoke of it in his paper the next day as "the most eloquent prayer ever +addressed to a Boston audience." + +The "Alta California's" "elegant tribute" is not quite up to this +rhetorical altitude. + + "'The minister,' said he, 'is in no danger of losing his position; + he represents the moral sense and the humanities.' He spoke of his + own reasons for leaving the pulpit, and added that 'some one had + lately come to him whose conscience troubled him about retaining the + name of Christian; he had replied that he himself had no difficulty + about it. When he was called a Platonist, or a Christian, or a + Republican, he welcomed it. It did not bind him to what he did + not like. What is the use of going about and setting up a flag of + negation?'" + + "I made bold to ask him what he had in mind in naming his recent + course of lectures at Cambridge, 'The Natural History of the + Intellect.' This opened a very interesting conversation; but, alas! + I could recall but little of it,--little more than the mere hintings + of what he said. He cared very little for metaphysics. But he + thought that as a man grows he observes certain facts about his own + mind,--about memory, for example. These he had set down from time + to time. As for making any methodical history, he did not undertake + it." + +Emerson met Brigham Young at Salt Lake City, as has been mentioned, but +neither seems to have made much impression upon the other. Emerson spoke +of the Mormons. Some one had said, "They impress the common people, +through their imagination, by Bible-names and imagery." "Yes," he said, +"it is an after-clap of Puritanism. But one would think that after this +Father Abraham could go no further." + +The charm of Boswell's Life of Johnson is that it not merely records +his admirable conversation, but also gives us many of those lesser +peculiarities which are as necessary to a true biography as lights and +shades to a portrait on canvas. We are much obliged to Professor Thayer +therefore for the two following pleasant recollections which he has been +good-natured enough to preserve for us, and with which we will take +leave of his agreeable little volume:-- + + "At breakfast we had, among other things, pie. This article at + breakfast was one of Mr. Emerson's weaknesses. A pie stood before + him now. He offered to help somebody from it, who declined; and + then one or two others, who also declined; and then Mr.----; he too + declined. 'But Mr.----!' Mr. Emerson remonstrated, with humorous + emphasis, thrusting the knife under a piece of the pie, and putting + the entire weight of his character into his manner,--'but Mr.----, + _what is pie for_?'" + +A near friend of mine, a lady, was once in the cars with Emerson, and +when they stopped for the refreshment of the passengers he was very +desirous of procuring something at the station for her solace. Presently +he advanced upon her with a cup of tea in one hand and a wedge of pie in +the other,--such a wedge! She could hardly have been more dismayed +if one of Caesar's _cunei_, or wedges of soldiers, had made a charge +against her. + +Yet let me say here that pie, often foolishly abused, is a good +creature, at the right time and in angles of thirty or forty degrees. In +semicircles and quadrants it may sometimes prove too much for delicate +stomachs. But here was Emerson, a hopelessly confirmed pie-eater, never, +so far as I remember, complaining of dyspepsia; and there, on the other +side, was Carlyle, feeding largely on wholesome oatmeal, groaning with +indigestion all his days, and living with half his self-consciousness +habitually centred beneath his diaphragm. + +Like his friend Carlyle and like Tennyson, Emerson had a liking for a +whiff of tobacco-smoke:-- + + "When alone," he said, "he rarely cared to finish a whole cigar. But + in company it was singular to see how different it was. To one who + found it difficult to meet people, as he did, the effect of a cigar + was agreeable; one who is smoking may be as silent as he likes, and + yet be good company. And so Hawthorne used to say that he found it. + On this journey Mr. Emerson generally smoked a single cigar after + our mid-day dinner, or after tea, and occasionally after both. This + was multiplying, several times over, anything that was usual with + him at home." + +Professor Thayer adds in a note:-- + + "Like Milton, Mr. Emerson 'was extraordinary temperate in his Diet,' + and he used even less tobacco. Milton's quiet day seems to have + closed regularly with a pipe; he 'supped,' we are told, 'upon ... + some light thing; and after a pipe of tobacco and a glass of water + went to bed.'" + +As Emerson's name has been connected with that of Milton in its nobler +aspects, it can do no harm to contemplate him, like Milton, indulging in +this semi-philosophical luxury. + +One morning in July, 1872, Mr. and Mrs. Emerson woke to find their room +filled with smoke and fire coming through the floor of a closet in the +room over them. The alarm was given, and the neighbors gathered and did +their best to put out the flames, but the upper part of the house was +destroyed, and with it were burned many papers of value to Emerson, +including his father's sermons. Emerson got wet and chilled, and it +seems too probable that the shock hastened that gradual loss of memory +which came over his declining years. + +His kind neighbors did all they could to save his property and relieve +his temporary needs. A study was made ready for him in the old Court +House, and the "Old Manse," which had sheltered his grandfather, and +others nearest to him, received him once more as its tenant. + +On the 15th of October he spoke at a dinner given in New York in honor +of James Anthony Froude, the historian, and in the course of this same +month he set out on his third visit to Europe, accompanied by his +daughter Ellen. We have little to record of this visit, which was +suggested as a relief and recreation while his home was being refitted +for him. He went to Egypt, but so far as I have learned the Sphinx had +no message for him, and in the state of mind in which he found himself +upon the mysterious and dream-compelling Nile it may be suspected that +the landscape with its palms and pyramids was an unreal vision,--that, +as to his Humble-bee, + + "All was picture as he passed." + +But while he was voyaging his friends had not forgotten him. The +sympathy with him in his misfortune was general and profound. It did not +confine itself to expressions of feeling, but a spontaneous movement +organized itself almost without effort. If any such had been needed, the +attached friend whose name is appended to the Address to the Subscribers +to the Fund for rebuilding Mr. Emerson's house would have been as +energetic in this new cause as he had been in the matter of procuring +the reprint of "Sartor Resartus." I have his kind permission to publish +the whole correspondence relating to the friendly project so happily +carried out. + + _To the Subscribers to the Fund for the Rebuilding of Mr. Emerson's + House, after the Fire of July_ 24, 1872: + + The death of Mr. Emerson has removed any objection which may have + before existed to the printing of the following correspondence. I + have now caused this to be done, that each subscriber may have the + satisfaction of possessing a copy of the touching and affectionate + letters in which he expressed his delight in this, to him, most + unexpected demonstration of personal regard and attachment, in the + offer to restore for him his ruined home. + + No enterprise of the kind was ever more fortunate and successful in + its purpose and in its results. The prompt and cordial response to + the proposed subscription was most gratifying. No contribution was + solicited from any one. The simple suggestion to a few friends of + Mr. Emerson that an opportunity was now offered to be of service + to him was all that was needed. From the first day on which it was + made, the day after the fire, letters began to come in, with cheques + for large and small amounts, so that in less than three weeks I + was enabled to send to Judge Hoar the sum named in his letter as + received by him on the 13th of August, and presented by him to Mr. + Emerson the next morning, at the Old Manse, with fitting words. + + Other subscriptions were afterwards received, increasing the amount + on my book to eleven thousand six hundred and twenty dollars. A part + of this was handed directly to the builder at Concord. The balance + was sent to Mr. Emerson October 7, and acknowledged by him in his + letter of October 8, 1872. + + All the friends of Mr. Emerson who knew of the plan which was + proposed to rebuild his house, seemed to feel that it was a + privilege to be allowed to express in this way the love and + veneration with which he was regarded, and the deep debt of + gratitude which they owed to him, and there is no doubt that a much + larger amount would have been readily and gladly offered, if it had + been required, for the object in view. + + Those who have had the happiness to join in this friendly + "conspiracy" may well take pleasure in the thought that what they + have done has had the effect to lighten the load of care and anxiety + which the calamity of the fire brought with it to Mr. Emerson, and + thus perhaps to prolong for some precious years the serene and noble + life that was so dear to all of us. + + My thanks are due to the friends who have made me the bearer of this + message of good-will. + + LE BARON RUSSELL. + + BOSTON, May 8, 1882. + + + BOSTON, August 13, 1872. + + DEAR MR. EMERSON: + + It seems to have been the spontaneous desire of your friends, on + hearing of the burning of your house, to be allowed the pleasure of + rebuilding it. + + A few of them have united for this object, and now request your + acceptance of the amount which I have to-day deposited to your order + at the Concord Bank, through the kindness of our friend, Judge Hoar. + They trust that you will receive it as an expression of sincere + regard and affection from friends, who will, one and all, esteem it + a great privilege to be permitted to assist in the restoration of + your home. + + And if, in their eagerness to participate in so grateful a work, + they may have exceeded the estimate of your architect as to what + is required for that purpose, they beg that you will devote the + remainder to such other objects as may be most convenient to you. + + Very sincerely yours, + + LE BARON RUSSELL. + + + CONCORD, August 14, 1872. + + DR. LE B. RUSSELL: + + _Dear Sir_,--I received your letters, with the check for ten + thousand dollars inclosed, from Mr. Barrett last evening. This + morning I deposited it to Mr. Emerson's credit in the Concord + National Bank, and took a bank book for him, with his little balance + entered at the top, and this following, and carried it to him with + your letter. I told him, by way of prelude, that some of his friends + had made him treasurer of an association who wished him to go to + England and examine Warwick Castle and other noted houses that + had been recently injured by fire, in order to get the best ideas + possible for restoration, and then to apply them to a house which + the association was formed to restore in this neighborhood. + + When he understood the thing and had read your letter, he seemed + very deeply moved. He said that he had been allowed so far in life + to stand on his own feet, and that he hardly knew what to say,--that + the kindness of his friends was very great. I said what I thought + was best in reply, and told him that this was the spontaneous act of + friends, who wished the privilege of expressing in this way their + respect and affection, and was done only by those who thought it a + privilege to do so. I mentioned Hillard as you desired, and also + Mrs. Tappan, who, it seems, had written to him and offered any + assistance he might need, to the extent of five thousand dollars, + personally. + + I think it is all right, but he said he must see the list of + contributors, and would then say what he had to say about it. He + told me that Mr. F.C. Lowell, who was his classmate and old friend, + Mr. Bangs, Mrs. Gurney, and a few other friends, had already sent + him five thousand dollars, which he seemed to think was as much as + he could bear. This makes the whole a very gratifying result, and + perhaps explains the absence of some names on your book. + + I am glad that Mr. Emerson, who is feeble and ill, can learn what a + debt of obligation his friends feel to him, and thank you heartily + for what you have done about it. Very truly yours, + + E.R. HOAR. + + + CONCORD, August 16, 1872. + + MY DEAR LE BARON: + + I have wondered and melted over your letter and its accompaniments + till it is high time that I should reply to it, if I can. My + misfortunes, as I have lived along so far in this world, have been + so few that I have never needed to ask direct aid of the host of + good men and women who have cheered my life, though many a gift has + come to me. And this late calamity, however rude and devastating, + soon began to look more wonderful in its salvages than in its ruins, + so that I can hardly feel any right to this munificent endowment + with which you, and my other friends through you, have astonished + me. But I cannot read your letter or think of its message without + delight, that my companions and friends bear me so noble a + good-will, nor without some new aspirations in the old heart toward + a better deserving. Judge Hoar has, up to this time, withheld from + me the names of my benefactors, but you may be sure that I shall not + rest till I have learned them, every one, to repeat to myself at + night and at morning. + + Your affectionate friend and debtor, + + R.W. EMERSON. + + + DR. LE BARON RUSSELL + + CONCORD, October 8, 1872. + + MY DEAR DOCTOR LE BARON: + + I received last night your two notes, and the cheque, enclosed in + one of them, for one thousand and twenty dollars. + + Are my friends bent on killing me with kindness? No, you will say, + but to make me live longer. I thought myself sufficiently loaded + with benefits already, and you add more and more. It appears that + you all will rebuild my house and rejuvenate me by sending me in my + old days abroad on a young man's excursion. + + I am a lover of men, but this recent wonderful experience of their + tenderness surprises and occupies my thoughts day by day. Now that + I have all or almost all the names of the men and women who have + conspired in this kindness to me (some of whom I have never + personally known), I please myself with the thought of meeting each + and asking, Why have we not met before? Why have you not told me + that we thought alike? Life is not so long, nor sympathy of thought + so common, that we can spare the society of those with whom we best + agree. Well, 'tis probably my own fault by sticking ever to my + solitude. Perhaps it is not too late to learn of these friends a + better lesson. + + Thank them for me whenever you meet them, and say to them that I am + not wood or stone, if I have not yet trusted myself so far as to go + to each one of them directly. + + My wife insists that I shall also send her acknowledgments to them + and you. + + Yours and theirs affectionately, + + R.W. EMERSON. + + DR. LE BARON KUSSELL. + + +The following are the names of the subscribers to the fund for +rebuilding Mr. Emerson's house:-- + +Mrs. Anne S. Hooper. +Miss Alice S. Hooper. +Mrs. Caroline Tappan. +Miss Ellen S. Tappan. +Miss Mary A. Tappan. +Mr. T.G. Appleton. +Mrs. Henry Edwards. +Miss Susan E. Dorr. +Misses Wigglesworth. +Mr. Edward Wigglesworth. +Mr. J. Elliot Cabot. +Mrs. Sarah S. Russell. +Friends in New York and Philadelphia, through Mr. Williams. +Mr. William Whiting. +Mr. Frederick Beck. +Mr. H.P. Kidder. +Mrs. Abel Adams. +Mrs. George Faulkner. +Hon. E.R. Hoar. +Mr. James B. Thayer. +Mr. John M. Forbes. +Mr. James H. Beal. +Mrs. Anna C. Lodge. +Mr. T. Jefferson Coolidge. +Mr. H.H. Hunnewell. +Mrs. S. Cabot. +Mr. James A. Dupee. +Mrs. Anna C. Lowell. +Mrs. M.F. Sayles. +Miss Helen L. Appleton. +J.R. Osgood & Co. +Mr. Richard Soule. +Mr. Francis Geo. Shaw. +Dr. R.W. Hooper. +Mr. William P. Mason. +Mr. William Gray. +Mr. Sam'l G. Ward. +Mr. J.I. Bowditch. +Mr. Geo. C. Ward. +Mrs. Luicia J. Briggs. +Mr. John E. Williams. +Dr. Le Baron Russell. + +In May, 1873, Emerson returned to Concord. His friends and +fellow-citizens received him with every token of affection and +reverence. A set of signals was arranged to announce his arrival. +Carriages were in readiness for him and his family, a band greeted him +with music, and passing under a triumphal arch, he was driven to his +renewed old home amidst the welcomes and the blessings of his loving and +admiring friends and neighbors. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +1873-1878. AET. 70-75. + +Publication of "Parnassus."--Emerson Nominated as Candidate for the +Office of Lord Rector of Glasgow University.--Publication of +"Letters and Social Aims." Contents: Poetry and Imagination.--Social +Aims.--Eloquence.--Resources.--The Comic.--Quotation and +Originality.--Progress of Culture.--Persian Poetry.--Inspiration.-- +Greatness.--Immortality.--Address at the Unveiling of the Statue of "The +Minute-Man" at Concord.--Publication of Collected Poems. + + +In December, 1874, Emerson published "Parnassus," a Collection of Poems +by British and American authors. Many readers may like to see his +subdivisions and arrangement of the pieces he has brought together. +They are as follows: "Nature."--"Human Life."--"Intellectual." +--"Contemplation."--"Moral and Religious."--"Heroic."--"Personal." +--"Pictures."--"Narrative Poems and Ballads."--"Songs."--"Dirges and +Pathetic Poems."--"Comic and Humorous."--"Poetry of Terror."--"Oracles +and Counsels." + +I have borrowed so sparingly from the rich mine of Mr. George Willis +Cooke's "Ralph Waldo Emerson, His Life, Writings, and Philosophy," that +I am pleased to pay him the respectful tribute of taking a leaf from his +excellent work. + +"This collection," he says, + + "was the result of his habit, pursued for many years, of copying + into his commonplace book any poem which specially pleased him. Many + of these favorites had been read to illustrate his lectures on + the English poets. The book has no worthless selections, almost + everything it contains bearing the stamp of genius and worth. Yet + Emerson's personality is seen in its many intellectual and serious + poems, and in the small number of its purely religious selections. + With two or three exceptions he copies none of those devotional + poems which have attracted devout souls.--His poetical sympathies + are shown in the fact that one third of the selections are from the + seventeenth century. Shakespeare is drawn on more largely than any + other, no less than eighty-eight selections being made from him. The + names of George Herbert, Herrick, Ben Jonson, and Milton frequently + appear. Wordsworth appears forty-three times, and stands next to + Shakespeare; while Burns, Byron, Scott, Tennyson, and Chaucer make + up the list of favorites. Many little known pieces are included, and + some whose merit is other than poetical.--This selection of poems + is eminently that of a poet of keen intellectual tastes. I + not popular in character, omitting many public favorites, and + introducing very much which can never be acceptable to the general + reader. The Preface is full of interest for its comments on many of + the poems and poets appearing in these selections." + +I will only add to Mr. Cooke's criticism these two remarks: First, that +I have found it impossible to know under which of his divisions to look +for many of the poems I was in search of; and as, in the earlier copies +at least, there was no paged index where each author's pieces were +collected together, one had to hunt up his fragments with no little loss +of time and patience, under various heads, "imitating the careful search +that Isis made for the mangled body of Osiris." The other remark is that +each one of Emerson's American fellow-poets from whom he has quoted +would gladly have spared almost any of the extracts from the poems of +his brother-bards, if the editor would only have favored us with some +specimens of his own poetry, with a single line of which he has not seen +fit to indulge us. + +In 1874 Emerson received the nomination by the independent party among +the students of Glasgow University for the office of Lord Rector. He +received five hundred votes against seven hundred for Disraeli, who was +elected. He says in a letter to Dr. J. Hutchinson Sterling:-- + + "I count that vote as quite the fairest laurel that has ever fallen + on me; and I cannot but feel deeply grateful to my young friends in + the University, and to yourself, who have been my counsellor and my + too partial advocate." + +Mr. Cabot informs us in his Prefatory Note to "Letters and Social Aims," +that the proof sheets of this volume, now forming the eighth of the +collected works, showed even before the burning of his house and the +illness which followed from the shock, that his loss of memory and of +mental grasp was such as to make it unlikely that he would in any case +have been able to accomplish what he had undertaken. Sentences, even +whole pages, were repeated, and there was a want of order beyond what +even he would have tolerated:-- + + "There is nothing here that he did not write, and he gave his + full approval to whatever was done in the way of selection and + arrangement; but I cannot say that he applied his mind very closely + to the matter." + +This volume contains eleven Essays, the subjects of which, as just +enumerated, are very various. The longest and most elaborate paper is +that entitled "Poetry and Imagination." I have room for little more than +the enumeration of the different headings of this long Essay. By these +it will be seen how wide a ground it covers. They are "Introductory;" +"Poetry;" "Imagination;" "Veracity;" "Creation;" "Melody, Rhythm, Form;" +"Bards and Trouveurs;" "Morals;" "Transcendency." Many thoughts with +which we are familiar are reproduced, expanded, and illustrated in this +Essay. Unity in multiplicity, the symbolism of nature, and others of his +leading ideas appear in new phrases, not unwelcome, for they look fresh +in every restatement. It would be easy to select a score of pointed +sayings, striking images, large generalizations. Some of these we find +repeated in his verse. Thus:-- + + "Michael Angelo is largely filled with the Creator that made and + makes men. How much of the original craft remains in him, and he a + mortal man!" + +And so in the well remembered lines of "The Problem":-- + + "Himself from God he could not free." + +"He knows that he did not make his thought,--no, his thought made him, +and made the sun and stars." + + "Art might obey but not surpass. + The passive Master lent his hand + To the vast soul that o'er him planned." + +Hope is at the bottom of every Essay of Emerson's as it was at the +bottom of Pandora's box:-- + + "I never doubt the riches of nature, the gifts of the future, the + immense wealth of the mind. O yes, poets we shall have, mythology, + symbols, religion of our own. + + --"Sooner or later that which is now life shall be poetry, and every + fair and manly trait shall add a richer strain to the song." + +Under the title "Social Aims" he gives some wise counsel concerning +manners and conversation. One of these precepts will serve as a +specimen--if we have met with it before it is none the worse for wear:-- + + "Shun the negative side. Never worry people with; your contritions, + nor with dismal views of politics or society. Never name sickness; + even if you could trust yourself on that perilous topic, beware of + unmuzzling a valetudinarian, who will give you enough of it." + +We have had one Essay on "Eloquence" already. One extract from this new +discourse on the same subject must serve our turn:-- + + "These are ascending stairs,--a good voice, winning manners, plain + speech, chastened, however, by the schools into correctness; but + we must come to the main matter, of power of statement,--know your + fact; hug your fact. For the essential thing is heat, and heat comes + of sincerity. Speak what you know and believe; and are personally in + it; and are answerable for every word. Eloquence is _the power to_ + _translate a truth into language perfectly intelligible to the + person to whom you speak_." + +The italics are Emerson's. + +If our learned and excellent John Cotton used to sweeten his mouth +before going to bed with a bit of Calvin, we may as wisely sweeten and +strengthen our sense of existence with a morsel or two from Emerson's +Essay on "Resources":-- + + "A Schopenhauer, with logic and learning and wit, teaching + pessimism,--teaching that this is the worst of all possible worlds, + and inferring that sleep is better than waking, and death than + sleep,--all the talent in the world cannot save him from being + odious. But if instead of these negatives you give me affirmatives; + if you tell me that there is always life for the living; that what + man has done man can do; that this world belongs to the energetic; + that there is always a way to everything desirable; that every man + is provided, in the new bias of his faculty, with a key to + nature, and that man only rightly knows himself as far as he has + experimented on things,--I am invigorated, put into genial and + working temper; the horizon opens, and we are full of good-will and + gratitude to the Cause of Causes." + +The Essay or Lecture on "The Comic" may have formed a part of a series +he had contemplated on the intellectual processes. Two or three sayings +in it will show his view sufficiently:-- + + "The essence of all jokes, of all comedy, seems to be an honest or + well-intended halfness; a non-performance of what is pretended to + be performed, at the same time that one is giving loud pledges of + performance. + + "If the essence of the Comic be the contrast in the intellect + between the idea and the false performance, there is good reason why + we should be affected by the exposure. We have no deeper interest + than our integrity, and that we should be made aware by joke and by + stroke of any lie we entertain. Besides, a perception of the comic + seems to be a balance-wheel in our metaphysical structure. It + appears to be an essential element in a fine character.--A rogue + alive to the ludicrous is still convertible. If that sense is lost, + his fellow-men can do little for him." + +These and other sayings of like purport are illustrated by +well-preserved stories and anecdotes not for the most part of very +recent date. + +"Quotation and Originality" furnishes the key to Emerson's workshop. He +believed in quotation, and borrowed from everybody and every book. Not +in any stealthy or shame-faced way, but proudly, royally, as a king +borrows from one of his attendants the coin that bears his own image and +superscription. + + "All minds quote. Old and new make the warp and woof of every + moment. There is no thread that is not a twist of these two + strands.--We quote not only books and proverbs, but arts, sciences, + religion, customs, and laws; nay, we quote temples and houses, + tables and chairs by imitation.-- + + "The borrowing is often honest enough and comes of magnanimity and + stoutness. A great man quotes bravely, and will not draw on his + invention when his memory serves him with a word as good. + + "Next to the originator of a good sentence is the first quoter of + it."-- + +--"The Progress of Culture," his second Phi Beta Kappa oration, has +already been mentioned. + +--The lesson of self-reliance, which he is never tired of inculcating, +is repeated and enforced in the Essay on "Greatness." + + "There are certain points of identity in which these masters agree. + Self-respect is the early form in which greatness appears.--Stick to + your own; don't inculpate yourself in the local, social, or national + crime, but follow the path your genius traces like the galaxy of + heaven for you to walk in. + + "Every mind has a new compass, a new direction of its own, + differencing its genius and aim from every other mind.--We call this + specialty the _bias_ of each individual. And none of us will ever + accomplish anything excellent or commanding except when he listens + to this whisper which is heard by him alone." + +If to follow this native bias is the first rule, the second is +concentration.--To the bias of the individual mind must be added the +most catholic receptivity for the genius of others. + + "Shall I tell you the secret of the true scholar? It is this: Every + man I meet is my master in some point, and in that I learn of + him."-- + + "The man whom we have not seen, in whom no regard of self degraded + the adorer of the laws,--who by governing himself governed others; + sportive in manner, but inexorable in act; who sees longevity in his + cause; whose aim is always distinct to him; who is suffered to be + himself in society; who carries fate in his eye;--he it is whom we + seek, encouraged in every good hour that here or hereafter he shall + he found." + +What has Emerson to tell us of "Inspiration?" + + "I believe that nothing great or lasting can be done except by + inspiration, by leaning on the secret augury.-- + + "How many sources of inspiration can we count? As many as our + affinities. But to a practical purpose we may reckon a few of + these." + +I will enumerate them briefly as he gives them, but not attempting to +reproduce his comments on each:-- + +1. Health. 2. The experience of writing letters. 3. The renewed +sensibility which comes after seasons of decay or eclipse of the +faculties. 4. The power of the will. 5. Atmospheric causes, especially +the influence of morning. 6. Solitary converse with nature. 7. Solitude +of itself, like that of a country inn in summer, and of a city hotel +in winter. 8. Conversation. 9. New poetry; by which, he says, he means +chiefly old poetry that is new to the reader. + + "Every book is good to read which sets the reader in a working + mood." + +What can promise more than an Essay by Emerson on "Immortality"? It is +to be feared that many readers will transfer this note of interrogation +to the Essay itself. What is the definite belief of Emerson as expressed +in this discourse,--what does it mean? We must tack together such +sentences as we can find that will stand for an answer:-- + + "I think all sound minds rest on a certain preliminary conviction, + namely, that if it be best that conscious personal life shall + continue, it will continue; if not best, then it will not; and we, + if we saw the whole, should of course see that it was better so." + +This is laying the table for a Barmecide feast of nonentity, with the +possibility of a real banquet to be provided for us. But he continues:-- + + "Schiller said, 'What is so universal as death must be benefit.'" + +He tells us what Michael Angelo said, how Plutarch felt, how Montesquieu +thought about the question, and then glances off from it to the terror +of the child at the thought of life without end, to the story of the two +skeptical statesmen whose unsatisfied inquiry through a long course of +years he holds to be a better affirmative evidence than their failure +to find a confirmation was negative. He argues from our delight in +permanence, from the delicate contrivances and adjustments of created +things, that the contriver cannot be forever hidden, and says at last +plainly:-- + + "Everything is prospective, and man is to live hereafter. That the + world is for his education is the only sane solution of the enigma." + +But turn over a few pages and we may read:-- + + "I confess that everything connected with our personality fails. + Nature never spares the individual; we are always balked of a + complete success; no prosperity is promised to our self-esteem. We + have our indemnity only in the moral and intellectual reality to + which we aspire. That is immortal, and we only through that. The + soul stipulates for no private good. That which is private I see not + to be good. 'If truth live, I live; if justice live, I live,' + said one of the old saints, 'and these by any man's suffering are + enlarged and enthroned.'" + +Once more we get a dissolving view of Emerson's creed, if such a word +applies to a statement like the following:-- + + --"I mean that I am a better believer, and all serious souls are + better believers in the immortality than we can give grounds for. + The real evidence is too subtle, or is higher than we can write down + in propositions, and therefore Wordsworth's 'Ode' is the best modern + essay on the subject." + +Wordsworth's "Ode" is a noble and beautiful dream; is it anything more? +The reader who would finish this Essay, which I suspect to belong to an +early period of Emerson's development, must be prepared to plunge +into mysticism and lose himself at last in an Oriental apologue. The +eschatology which rests upon an English poem and an Indian fable belongs +to the realm of reverie and of imagination rather than the domain of +reason. + +On the 19th of April, 1875, the hundredth anniversary of the "Fight at +the Bridge," Emerson delivered a short Address at the unveiling of the +statue of "The Minute-Man," erected at the place of the conflict, to +commemorate the event. This is the last Address he ever wrote, though he +delivered one or more after this date. From the manuscript which lies +before me I extract a single passage:-- + + "In the year 1775 we had many enemies and many friends in England, + but our one benefactor was King George the Third. The time had + arrived for the political severance of America, that it might play + its part in the history of this globe, and the inscrutable divine + Providence gave an insane king to England. In the resistance of the + Colonies, he alone was immovable on the question of force. England + was so dear to us that the Colonies could only be absolutely + disunited by violence from England, and only one man could compel + the resort to violence. Parliament wavered, Lord North wavered, all + the ministers wavered, but the king had the insanity of one idea; he + was immovable, he insisted on the impossible, so the army was sent, + America was instantly united, and the Nation born." + +There is certainly no mark of mental failure in this paragraph, written +at a period when he had long ceased almost entirely from his literary +labors. + +Emerson's collected "Poems" constitute the ninth volume of the recent +collected edition of his works. They will be considered in a following +chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +1878-1882. AET. 75-79. + +Last Literary Labors.--Addresses and Essays.--"Lectures and Biographical +Sketches."--"Miscellanies." + + +The decline of Emerson's working faculties went on gently and gradually, +but he was not condemned to entire inactivity. His faithful daughter, +Ellen, followed him with assiduous, quiet, ever watchful care, aiding +his failing memory, bringing order into the chaos of his manuscript, an +echo before the voice whose words it was to shape for him when his mind +faltered and needed a momentary impulse. + +With her helpful presence and support he ventured from time to time +to read a paper before a select audience. Thus, March 30, 1878, he +delivered a Lecture in the Old South Church,--"Fortune of the Republic." +On the 5th of May, 1879, he read a Lecture in the Chapel of Divinity +College, Harvard University,--"The Preacher." In 1881 he read a paper on +Carlyle before the Massachusetts Historical Society.--He also published +a paper in the "North American Review," in 1878,--"The Sovereignty of +Ethics," and one on "Superlatives," in "The Century" for February, 1882. + +But in these years he was writing little or nothing. All these papers +were taken from among his manuscripts of different dates. The same +thing is true of the volumes published since his death; they were +only compilations from his stores of unpublished matter, and their +arrangement was the work of Mr. Emerson's friend and literary executor, +Mr. Cabot. These volumes cannot be considered as belonging to any single +period of his literary life. + +Mr. Cabot prefixes to the tenth volume of Emerson's collected works, +which bears the title, "Lectures and Biographical Sketches," the +following:-- + +"NOTE. + +"Of the pieces included in this volume the following, namely, those from +'The Dial,' 'Character,' 'Plutarch,' and the biographical sketches of +Dr. Ripley, of Mr. Hoar, and of Henry Thoreau, were printed by Mr. +Emerson before I took any part in the arrangement of his papers. The +rest, except the sketch of Miss Mary Emerson, I got ready for his use +in readings to his friends, or to a limited public. He had given up +the regular practice of lecturing, but would sometimes, upon special +request, read a paper that had been prepared for him from his +manuscripts, in the manner described in the Preface to 'Letters and +Social Aims,'--some former lecture serving as a nucleus for the new. +Some of these papers he afterwards allowed to be printed; others, +namely, 'Aristocracy,' 'Education,' 'The Man of Letters,' 'The Scholar,' +'Historic Notes of Life and Letters in New England,' 'Mary Moody +Emerson,' are now published for the first time." + +Some of these papers I have already had occasion to refer to. From +several of the others I will make one or two extracts,--a difficult +task, so closely are the thoughts packed together. + +From "Demonology":-- + + "I say to the table-rappers + + 'I will believe + Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know,' + And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate!" + + "Meantime far be from me the impatience which cannot brook the + supernatural, the vast; far be from me the lust of explaining away + all which appeals to the imagination, and the great presentiments + which haunt us. Willingly I too say Hail! to the unknown, awful + powers which transcend the ken of the understanding." + +I will not quote anything from the Essay called "Aristocracy." But let +him who wishes to know what the word means to an American whose life has +come from New England soil, whose ancestors have breathed New England +air for many generations, read it, and he will find a new interpretation +of a very old and often greatly wronged appellation. + +"Perpetual Forces" is one of those prose poems,--of his earlier epoch, +I have no doubt,--in which he plays with the facts of science with +singular grace and freedom. + +What man could speak more fitly, with more authority of "Character," +than Emerson? When he says, "If all things are taken away, I have +still all things in my relation to the Eternal," we feel that such an +utterance is as natural to his pure spirit as breathing to the frame in +which it was imprisoned. + +We have had a glimpse of Emerson as a school-master, but behind and far +above the teaching drill-master's desk is the chair from which he speaks +to us of "Education." Compare the short and easy method of the wise man +of old,--"He that spareth his rod hateth his son," with this other, "Be +the companion of his thought, the friend of his friendship, the lover of +his virtue,--but no kinsman of his sin." + +"The Superlative" will prove light and pleasant reading after these +graver essays. [Greek: Maedhen agan]--_ne quid nimis_,--nothing in +excess, was his precept as to adjectives. + +Two sentences from "The Sovereignty of Ethics" will go far towards +reconciling elderly readers who have not forgotten the Westminster +Assembly's Catechism with this sweet-souled dealer in spiritual +dynamite:-- + + "Luther would cut his hand off sooner than write theses against the + pope if he suspected that he was bringing on with all his might the + pale negations of Boston Unitarianism.-- + + "If I miss the inspiration of the saints of Calvinism, or of + Platonism, or of Buddhism, our times are not up to theirs, or, more + truly, have not yet their own legitimate force." + +So, too, this from "The Preacher":-- + + "All civil mankind have agreed in leaving one day for contemplation + against six for practice. I hope that day will keep its honor and + its use.--The Sabbath changes its forms from age to age, but the + substantial benefit endures." + +The special interest of the Address called "The Man of Letters" is, that +it was delivered during the war. He was no advocate for peace where +great principles were at the bottom of the conflict:-- + + "War, seeking for the roots of strength, comes upon the moral + aspects at once.--War ennobles the age.--Battle, with the sword, + has cut many a Gordian knot in twain which all the wit of East and + West, of Northern and Border statesmen could not untie." + +"The Scholar" was delivered before two Societies at the University of +Virginia so late as the year 1876. If I must select any of its wise +words, I will choose the questions which he has himself italicized to +show his sense of their importance:-- + + "For all men, all women, Time, your country, your condition, the + invisible world are the interrogators: _Who are you? What do you? + Can you obtain what you wish? Is there method in your consciousness? + Can you see tendency in your life? Can you help any soul_? + + "Can he answer these questions? Can he dispose of them? Happy if you + can answer them mutely in the order and disposition of your life! + Happy for more than yourself, a benefactor of men, if you can answer + them in works of wisdom, art, or poetry; bestowing on the general + mind of men organic creations, to be the guidance and delight of all + who know them." + +The Essay on "Plutarch" has a peculiar value from the fact that Emerson +owes more to him than to any other author except Plato, who is one of +the only two writers quoted oftener than Plutarch. _Mutato nomine_, the +portrait which Emerson draws of the Greek moralist might stand for his +own:-- + + "Whatever is eminent in fact or in fiction, in opinion, in + character, in institutions, in science--natural, moral, or + metaphysical, or in memorable sayings drew his attention and came to + his pen with more or less fulness of record. + + "A poet in verse or prose must have a sensuous eye, but an + intellectual co-perception. Plutarch's memory is full and his + horizon wide. Nothing touches man but he feels to be his. + + "Plutarch had a religion which Montaigne wanted, and which defends + him from wantonness; and though Plutarch is as plain spoken, his + moral sentiment is always pure.-- + + "I do not know where to find a book--to borrow a phrase of Ben + Jonson's--'so rammed with life,' and this in chapters chiefly + ethical, which are so prone to be heavy and sentimental.--His + vivacity and abundance never leave him to loiter or pound on an + incident.-- + + "In his immense quotation and allusion we quickly cease to + discriminate between what he quotes and what he invents.--'Tis all + Plutarch, by right of eminent domain, and all property vests in this + emperor. + + "It is in consequence of this poetic trait in his mind, that I + confess that, in reading him, I embrace the particulars, and carry a + faint memory of the argument or general design of the chapter; but + he is not less welcome, and he leaves the reader with a relish and a + necessity for completing his studies. + + "He is a pronounced idealist, who does not hesitate to say, like + another Berkeley, 'Matter is itself privation.'-- + + "Of philosophy he is more interested in the results than in the + method. He has a just instinct of the presence of a master, and + prefers to sit as a scholar with Plato than as a disputant. + + "His natural history is that of a lover and poet, and not of a + physicist. + + "But though curious in the questions of the schools on the nature + and genesis of things, his extreme interest in every trait of + character, and his broad humanity, lead him constantly to Morals, to + the study of the Beautiful and Good. Hence his love of heroes, his + rule of life, and his clear convictions of the high destiny of the + soul. La Harpe said that 'Plutarch is the genius the most naturally + moral that ever existed.' + + "Plutarch thought 'truth to be the greatest good that man can + receive, and the goodliest blessing that God can give.' + + "All his judgments are noble. He thought with Epicurus that it is + more delightful to do than to receive a kindness. + + "Plutarch was well-born, well-conditioned--eminently social, he was + a king in his own house, surrounded himself with select friends, and + knew the high value of good conversation.-- + + "He had that universal sympathy with genius which makes all its + victories his own; though he never used verse, he had many qualities + of the poet in the power of his imagination, the speed of his mental + associations, and his sharp, objective eyes. But what specially + marks him, he is a chief example of the illumination of the + intellect by the force of morals." + +How much, of all this would have been recognized as just and true if it +had been set down in an obituary notice of Emerson! + +I have already made use of several of the other papers contained in this +volume, and will merely enumerate all that follow the "Plutarch." Some +of the titles will be sure to attract the reader. They are "Historic +Notes of Life and Letters in New England;" "The Chardon Street +Convention;" "Ezra Ripley, D.D.;" "Mary Moody Emerson;" "Samuel Hoar;" +"Thoreau;" "Carlyle."-- + +Mr. Cabot prefaces the eleventh and last volume of Emerson's writings +with the following "Note":-- + + "The first five pieces in this volume, and the 'Editorial Address' + from the 'Massachusetts Quarterly Review,' were published by Mr. + Emerson long ago. The speeches at the John Brown, the Walter Scott, + and the Free Religious Association meetings were published at the + time, no doubt with his consent, but without any active co-operation + on his part. The 'Fortune of the Republic' appeared separately in + 1879; the rest have never been published. In none was any change + from the original form made by me, except in the 'Fortune of the + Republic,' which was made up of several lectures for the occasion + upon which it was read." + +The volume of "Miscellanies" contains no less than twenty-three pieces +of very various lengths and relating to many different subjects. The +five referred to as having been previously published are, "The Lord's +Supper," the "Historical Discourse in Concord," the "Address at the +Dedication of the Soldiers' Monument in Concord," the "Address on +Emancipation in the British West Indies," and the Lecture or Essay on +"War,"--all of which have been already spoken of. + +Next in order comes a Lecture on the "Fugitive Slave Law." Emerson says, +"I do not often speak on public questions.--My own habitual view is to +the well-being of scholars." But he leaves his studies to attack the +institution of slavery, from which he says he himself has never suffered +any inconvenience, and the "Law," which the abolitionists would always +call the "Fugitive Slave _Bill_." Emerson had a great admiration for +Mr. Webster, but he did not spare him as he recalled his speech of the +seventh of March, just four years before the delivery of this Lecture. +He warns against false leadership:-- + + "To make good the cause of Freedom, you must draw off from all + foolish trust in others.--He only who is able to stand alone is + qualified for society. And that I understand to be the end for which + a soul exists in this world,--to be himself the counter-balance of + all falsehood and all wrong.--The Anglo-Saxon race is proud and + strong and selfish.--England maintains trade, not liberty." + +Cowper had said long before this:-- + + "doing good, + Disinterested good, is not our trade." + +And America found that England had not learned that trade when, fifteen +years after this discourse was delivered, the conflict between the free +and slave states threatened the ruin of the great Republic, and England +forgot her Anti-slavery in the prospect of the downfall of "a great +empire which threatens to overshadow the whole earth." + +It must be remembered that Emerson had never been identified with the +abolitionists. But an individual act of wrong sometimes gives a sharp +point to a blunt dagger which has been kept in its sheath too long:-- + + "The events of the last few years and months and days have taught us + the lessons of centuries. I do not see how a barbarous community and + a civilized community can constitute one State. I think we must get + rid of slavery or we must get rid of freedom." + +These were his words on the 26th of May, 1856, in his speech on "The +Assault upon Mr. Sumner." A few months later, in his "Speech on the +Affairs of Kansas," delivered almost five years before the first gun +was fired at Fort Sumter, he spoke the following fatally prophetic and +commanding words:-- + + "The hour is coming when the strongest will not be strong enough. + A harder task will the new revolution of the nineteenth century be + than was the revolution of the eighteenth century. I think the + American Revolution bought its glory cheap. If the problem was new, + it was simple. If there were few people, they were united, and the + enemy three thousand miles off. But now, vast property, gigantic + interests, family connections, webs of party, cover the land with a + net-work that immensely multiplies the dangers of war. + + "Fellow-citizens, in these times full of the fate of the Republic, + I think the towns should hold town meetings, and resolve themselves + into Committees of Safety, go into permanent sessions, adjourning + from week to week, from month to month. I wish we could send the + sergeant-at-arms to stop every American who is about to leave the + country. Send home every one who is abroad, lest they should find no + country to return to. Come home and stay at home while there is a + country to save. When it is lost it will be time enough then for any + who are luckless enough to remain alive to gather up their clothes + and depart to some land where freedom exists." + +Two short speeches follow, one delivered at a meeting for the relief of +the family of John Brown, on the 18th of November, 1859, the other after +his execution:-- + + "Our blind statesmen," he says, "go up and down, with committees of + vigilance and safety, hunting for the origin of this new heresy. + They will need a very vigilant committee indeed to find its + birthplace, and a very strong force to root it out. For the + arch-Abolitionist, older than Brown, and older than the Shenandoah + Mountains, is Love, whose other name is Justice, which was before + Alfred, before Lycurgus, before Slavery, and will be after it." + +From his "Discourse on Theodore Parker" I take the following vigorous +sentence:-- + + "His commanding merit as a reformer is this, that he insisted beyond + all men in pulpits,--I cannot think of one rival,--that the essence + of Christianity is its practical morals; it is there for use, or + it is nothing; and if you combine it with sharp trading, or with + ordinary city ambitions to gloze over municipal corruptions, or + private intemperance, or successful fraud, or immoral politics, or + unjust wars, or the cheating of Indians, or the robbery of frontier + nations, or leaving your principles at home to follow on the + high seas or in Europe a supple complaisance to tyrants,--it is + hypocrisy, and the truth is not in you; and no love of religious + music, or of dreams of Swedenborg, or praise of John Wesley, or of + Jeremy Taylor, can save you from the Satan which you are." + +The Lecture on "American Civilization," made up from two Addresses, one +of which was delivered at Washington on the 31st of January, 1862, is, +as might be expected, full of anti-slavery. That on the "Emancipation +Proclamation," delivered in Boston in September, 1862, is as full of +"silent joy" at the advent of "a day which most of us dared not hope +to see,--an event worth the dreadful war, worth its costs and +uncertainties." + +From the "Remarks" at the funeral services for Abraham Lincoln, held +in Concord on the 19th of April, 1865, I extract this admirably drawn +character of the man:-- + + "He is the true history of the American people in his time. Step by + step he walked before them; slow with their slowness, quickening + his march by theirs, the true representative of this continent; an + entirely public man; father of his country, the pulse of twenty + millions throbbing in his heart, the thought of their minds + articulated by his tongue." + +The following are the titles of the remaining contents of this volume: +"Harvard Commemoration Speech;" "Editor's Address: Massachusetts +Quarterly Review;" "Woman;" "Address to Kossuth;" "Robert Burns;" +"Walter Scott;" "Remarks at the Organization of the Free Religious +Association;" "Speech at the Annual Meeting of the Free Religious +Association;" "The Fortune of the Republic." In treating of the +"Woman Question," Emerson speaks temperately, delicately, with perfect +fairness, but leaves it in the hands of the women themselves to +determine whether they shall have an equal part in public affairs. "The +new movement," he says, "is only a tide shared by the spirits of man and +woman; and you may proceed in the faith that whatever the woman's heart +is prompted to desire, the man's mind is simultaneously prompted to +accomplish." + +It is hard to turn a leaf in any book of Emerson's writing without +finding some pithy remark or some striking image or witty comment which +illuminates the page where we find it and tempts us to seize upon it for +an extract. But I must content myself with these few sentences from "The +Fortune of the Republic," the last address he ever delivered, in which +his belief in America and her institutions, and his trust in the +Providence which overrules all nations and all worlds, have found +fitting utterance:-- + + "Let the passion for America cast out the passion for Europe. Here + let there be what the earth waits for,--exalted manhood. What this + country longs for is personalities, grand persons, to counteract its + materialities. For it is the rule of the universe that corn shall + serve man, and not man corn. + + "They who find America insipid,--they for whom London and Paris have + spoiled their own homes, can be spared to return to those cities. I + not only see a career at home for more genius than we have, but for + more than there is in the world. + + "Our helm is given up to a better guidance than our own; the course + of events is quite too strong for any helmsman, and our little + wherry is taken in tow by the ship of the great Admiral which knows + the way, and has the force to draw men and states and planets to + their good." + +With this expression of love and respect for his country and trust +in his country's God, we may take leave of Emerson's prose writings. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +EMERSON'S POEMS. + + +The following "Prefatory Note" by Mr. Cabot introduces the ninth volume +of the series of Emerson's collected works:-- + + "This volume contains nearly all the pieces included in the POEMS + and MAY-DAY of former editions. In 1876 Mr. Emerson published a + selection from his poems, adding six new ones, and omitting many. + Of those omitted, several are now restored, in accordance with the + expressed wishes of many readers and lovers of them. Also some + pieces never before published are here given in an Appendix, on + various grounds. Some of them appear to have had Emerson's approval, + but to have been withheld because they were unfinished. These it + seemed best not to suppress, now that they can never receive their + completion. Others, mostly of an early date, remained unpublished + doubtless because of their personal and private nature. Some of + these seem to have an autobiographic interest sufficient to justify + their publication. Others again, often mere fragments, have been + admitted as characteristic, or as expressing in poetic form thoughts + found in the Essays. + + "In coming to a decision in these cases, it seemed on the whole + preferable to take the risk of including too much rather than the + opposite, and to leave the task of further winnowing to the hands of + time. + + "As was stated in the Preface to the first volume of this edition of + Mr. Emerson's writings, the readings adopted by him in the "Selected + Poems" have not always been followed here, but in some cases + preference has been given to corrections made by him when he was in + fuller strength than at the time of the last revision. + + "A change in the arrangement of the stanzas of "May-Day," in the + part representative of the march of Spring, received his sanction as + bringing them more nearly in accordance with the events in Nature." + +Emerson's verse has been a fertile source of discussion. Some have +called him a poet and nothing but a poet, and some have made so much of +the palpable defects of his verse that they have forgotten to recognize +its true claims. His prose is often highly poetical, but his verse is +something more than the most imaginative and rhetorical passages of his +prose. An illustration presently to be given will make this point clear. + +Poetry is to prose what the so-called full dress of the ball-room is to +the plainer garments of the household and the street. Full dress, as +we call it, is so full of beauty that it cannot hold it all, and the +redundancy of nature overflows the narrowed margin of satin or velvet. + +It reconciles us to its approach to nudity by the richness of its +drapery and ornaments. A pearl or diamond necklace or a blushing bouquet +excuses the liberal allowance of undisguised nature. We expect from the +fine lady in her brocades and laces a generosity of display which we +should reprimand with the virtuous severity of Tartuffe if ventured upon +by the waiting-maid in her calicoes. So the poet reveals himself under +the protection of his imaginative and melodious phrases,--the flowers +and jewels of his vocabulary. + +Here is a prose sentence from Emerson's "Works and Days:"-- + + "The days are ever divine as to the first Aryans. They come and go + like muffled and veiled figures, sent from a distant friendly party; + but they say nothing, and if we do not use the gifts they bring, + they carry them as silently away." + +Now see this thought in full dress, and then ask what is the difference +between prose and poetry:-- + + "DAYS. + + "Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, + Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, + And marching single in an endless file, + Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. + To each they offer gifts after his will, + Bread, kingdom, stars, and sky that holds them all. + I, in my pleachéd garden watched the pomp, + Forgot my morning wishes, hastily + Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day + Turned and departed silent. I too late + Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn." + +--Cinderella at the fireside, and Cinderella at the prince's ball! The +full dress version of the thought is glittering with new images like +bracelets and brooches and ear-rings, and fringed with fresh adjectives +like edges of embroidery. That one word _pleachéd,_ an heir-loom from +Queen Elizabeth's day, gives to the noble sonnet an antique dignity and +charm like the effect of an ancestral jewel. But mark that now the +poet reveals himself as he could not in the prosaic form of the first +extract. It is his own neglect of his great opportunity of which he +now speaks, and not merely the indolent indifference of others. It +is himself who is the object of scorn. Self-revelation of beauty +embellished by ornaments is the privilege of full dress; self-revelation +in the florid costume of verse is the divine right of the poet. Passion +that must express itself longs always for the freedom of rhythmic +utterance. And in spite of the exaggeration and extravagance which +shield themselves under the claim of poetic license, I venture to affirm +that "_In_ vino _veritas_" is not truer than _In_ carmine _veritas_. +As a further illustration of what has just been said of the +self-revelations to be looked for in verse, and in Emerson's verse more +especially, let the reader observe how freely he talks about his bodily +presence and infirmities in his poetry,--subjects he never referred to +in prose, except incidentally, in private letters. + +Emerson is so essentially a poet that whole pages of his are like so +many litanies of alternating chants and recitations. His thoughts slip +on and off their light rhythmic robes just as the mood takes him, as was +shown in the passage I have quoted in prose and in verse. Many of the +metrical preludes to his lectures are a versified and condensed abstract +of the leading doctrine of the discourse. They are a curious instance of +survival; the lecturer, once a preacher, still wants his text; and finds +his scriptural motto in his own rhythmic inspiration. + +Shall we rank Emerson among the great poets or not? + + "The great poets are judged by the frame of mind they induce; and to + them, of all men, the severest criticism is due." + +These are Emerson's words in the Preface to "Parnassus." + +His own poems will stand this test as well as any in the language. They +lift the reader into a higher region of thought and feeling. This seems +to me a better test to apply to them than the one which Mr. Arnold cited +from Milton. The passage containing this must be taken, not alone, but +with the context. Milton had been speaking of "Logic" and of "Rhetoric," +and spoke of poetry "as being less subtile and fine, but more simple, +sensuous, and passionate." This relative statement, it must not be +forgotten, is conditioned by what went before. If the terms are used +absolutely, and not comparatively, as Milton used them, they must be +very elastic if they would stretch widely enough to include all the +poems which the world recognizes as masterpieces, nay, to include some +of the best of Milton's own. + +In spite of what he said about himself in his letter to Carlyle, Emerson +was not only a poet, but a very remarkable one. Whether a great poet +or not will depend on the scale we use and the meaning we affix to the +term. The heat at eighty degrees of Fahrenheit is one thing and the heat +at eighty degrees of Réaumur is a very different matter. The rank of +poets is a point of very unstable equilibrium. From the days of Homer to +our own, critics have been disputing about the place to be assigned to +this or that member of the poetic hierarchy. It is not the most popular +poet who is necessarily the greatest; Wordsworth never had half the +popularity of Scott or Moore. It is not the multitude of remembered +passages which settles the rank of a metrical composition as poetry. +Gray's "Elegy," it is true, is full of lines we all remember, and is a +great poem, if that term can be applied to any piece of verse of that +length. But what shall we say to the "Ars Poetica" of Horace? It is +crowded with lines worn smooth as old sesterces by constant quotation. +And yet we should rather call it a versified criticism than a poem in +the full sense of that word. And what shall we do with Pope's "Essay on +Man," which has furnished more familiar lines than "Paradise Lost" and +"Paradise Regained" both together? For all that, we know there is a +school of writers who will not allow that Pope deserves the name of +poet. + +It takes a generation or two to find out what are the passages in +a great writer which are to become commonplaces in literature and +conversation. It is to be remembered that Emerson is one of those +authors whose popularity must diffuse itself from above downwards. And +after all, few will dare assert that "The Vanity of Human Wishes" is +greater as a poem than Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind," or Keats's "Ode +to a Nightingale," because no line in either of these poems is half so +often quoted as + + "To point a moral or adorn a tale." + +We cannot do better than begin our consideration of Emerson's poetry +with Emerson's own self-estimate. He says in a fit of humility, writing +to Carlyle:-- + + "I do not belong to the poets, but only to a low department of + literature, the reporters, suburban men." + +But Miss Peabody writes to Mr. Ireland:-- + + "He once said to me, 'I am not a great poet--but whatever is of me + _is a poet_.'" + +These opposite feelings were the offspring of different moods and +different periods. + +Here is a fragment, written at the age of twenty-eight, in which his +self-distrust and his consciousness of the "vision," if not "the +faculty, divine," are revealed with the brave nudity of the rhythmic +confessional:-- + + "A dull uncertain brain, + But gifted yet to know + That God has cherubim who go + Singing an immortal strain, + Immortal here below. + I know the mighty bards, + I listen while they sing, + And now I know + The secret store + Which these explore + When they with torch of genius pierce + The tenfold clouds that cover + The riches of the universe + From God's adoring lover. + And if to me it is not given + To fetch one ingot thence + Of that unfading gold of Heaven + His merchants may dispense, + Yet well I know the royal mine + And know the sparkle of its ore, + Know Heaven's truth from lies that shine,-- + Explored, they teach us to explore." + +These lines are from "The Poet," a series of fragments given in the +"Appendix," which, with his first volume, "Poems," his second, "May-Day, +and other Pieces," form the complete ninth volume of the new series. +These fragments contain some of the loftiest and noblest passages to be +found in his poetical works, and if the reader should doubt which of +Emerson's self-estimates in his two different moods spoken of above had +most truth in it, he could question no longer after reading "The Poet." + +Emerson has the most exalted ideas of the true poetic function, as this +passage from "Merlin" sufficiently shows:-- + + "Thy trivial harp will never please + Or fill my craving ear; + Its chords should ring as blows the breeze, + Free, peremptory, clear. + No jingling serenader's art + Nor tinkling of piano-strings + Can make the wild blood start + In its mystic springs; + The kingly bard + Must smite the chords rudely and hard, + As with hammer or with mace; + That they may render back + Artful thunder, which conveys + Secrets of the solar track, + Sparks of the supersolar blaze. + + * * * * * + + Great is the art, + Great be the manners of the bard. + He shall not his brain encumber + With the coil of rhythm and number; + But leaving rule and pale forethought + He shall aye climb + For his rhyme. + 'Pass in, pass in,' the angels say, + 'In to the upper doors, + Nor count compartments of the floors, + But mount to paradise + By the stairway of surprise.'" + +And here is another passage from "The Poet," mentioned in the quotation +before the last, in which the bard is spoken of as performing greater +miracles than those ascribed to Orpheus:-- + + "A Brother of the world, his song + Sounded like a tempest strong + Which tore from oaks their branches broad, + And stars from the ecliptic road. + Time wore he as his clothing-weeds, + He sowed the sun and moon for seeds. + As melts the iceberg in the seas, + As clouds give rain to the eastern breeze, + As snow-banks thaw in April's beam, + The solid kingdoms like a dream + Resist in vain his motive strain, + They totter now and float amain. + For the Muse gave special charge + His learning should be deep and large, + And his training should not scant + The deepest lore of wealth or want: + His flesh should feel, his eyes should read + Every maxim of dreadful Need; + In its fulness he should taste + Life's honeycomb, but not too fast; + Full fed, but not intoxicated; + He should be loved; he should be hated; + A blooming child to children dear, + His heart should palpitate with fear." + +We look naturally to see what poets were Emerson's chief favorites. In +his poems "The Test" and "The Solution," we find that the five whom +he recognizes as defying the powers of destruction are Homer, Dante, +Shakespeare, Swedenborg, Goethe. + +Here are a few of his poetical characterizations from "The Harp:"-- + + "And this at least I dare affirm, + Since genius too has bound and term, + There is no bard in all the choir, + Not Homer's self, the poet-sire, + Wise Milton's odes of pensive pleasure, + Or Shakespeare whom no mind can measure, + Nor Collins' verse of tender pain, + Nor Byron's clarion of disdain, + Scott, the delight of generous boys, + Or Wordsworth, Pan's recording voice,-- + Not one of all can put in verse, + Or to this presence could rehearse + The sights and voices ravishing + The boy knew on the hills in spring."-- + +In the notice of "Parnassus" some of his preferences have been already +mentioned. + +Comparisons between men of genius for the sake of aggrandizing the +one at the expense of the other are the staple of the meaner kinds of +criticism. No lover of art will clash a Venetian goblet against a Roman +amphora to see which is strongest; no lover of nature undervalues a +violet because it is not a rose. But comparisons used in the way of +description are not odious. + +The difference between Emerson's poetry and that of the contemporaries +with whom he would naturally be compared is that of algebra and +arithmetic. He deals largely in general symbols, abstractions, and +infinite series. He is always seeing the universal in the particular. +The great multitude of mankind care more for two and two, something +definite, a fixed quantity, than for _a_ + _b's_ and _x^{2's}_,--symbols +used for undetermined amounts and indefinite possibilities. Emerson is +a citizen of the universe who has taken up his residence for a few days +and nights in this travelling caravansary between the two inns that +hang out the signs of Venus and Mars. This little planet could not +provincialize such a man. The multiplication-table is for the every day +use of every day earth-people, but the symbols he deals with are +too vast, sometimes, we must own, too vague, for the unilluminated +terrestrial and arithmetical intelligence. One cannot help feeling that +he might have dropped in upon us from some remote centre of spiritual +life, where, instead of addition and subtraction, children were taught +quaternions, and where the fourth dimension of space was as familiarly +known to everybody as a foot-measure or a yard-stick is to us. Not that +he himself dealt in the higher or the lower mathematics, but he saw the +hidden spiritual meaning of things as Professor Cayley or Professor +Sylvester see the meaning of their mysterious formulae. Without using +the Rosetta-stone of Swedenborg, Emerson finds in every phenomenon of +nature a hieroglyphic. Others measure and describe the monuments,--he +reads the sacred inscriptions. How alive he makes Monadnoc! Dinocrates +undertook to "hew Mount Athos to the shape of man" in the likeness of +Alexander the Great. Without the help of tools or workmen, Emerson makes +"Cheshire's haughty hill" stand before us an impersonation of kingly +humanity, and talk with us as a god from Olympus might have talked. + +This is the fascination of Emerson's poetry; it moves in a world of +universal symbolism. The sense of the infinite fills it with its +majestic presence. It shows, also, that he has a keen delight in the +every-day aspects of nature. But he looks always with the eye of a poet, +never with that of the man of science. The law of association of ideas +is wholly different in the two. The scientific man connects objects in +sequences and series, and in so doing is guided by their collective +resemblances. His aim is to classify and index all that he sees and +contemplates so as to show the relations which unite, and learn the laws +that govern, the subjects of his study. The poet links the most remote +objects together by the slender filament of wit, the flowery chain of +fancy, or the living, pulsating cord of imagination, always guided by +his instinct for the beautiful. The man of science clings to his object, +as the marsupial embryo to its teat, until he has filled himself as full +as he can hold; the poet takes a sip of his dew-drop, throws his head +up like a chick, rolls his eyes around in contemplation of the heavens +above him and the universe in general, and never thinks of asking a +Linnaean question as to the flower that furnished him his dew-drop. The +poetical and scientific natures rarely coexist; Haller and Goethe are +examples which show that such a union may occur, but as a rule the poet +is contented with the colors of the rainbow and leaves the study of +Fraunhofer's lines to the man of science. + +Though far from being a man of science, Emerson was a realist in the +best sense of that word. But his realities reached to the highest +heavens: like Milton,-- + + "He passed the flaming bounds of place and time; + The living throne, the sapphire blaze + Where angels tremble while they gaze, + HE SAW"-- + +Everywhere his poetry abounds in celestial imagery. If Galileo had been +a poet as well as an astronomer, he would hardly have sowed his verse +thicker with stars than we find them in the poems of Emerson. + +Not less did Emerson clothe the common aspects of life with the colors +of his imagination. He was ready to see beauty everywhere:-- + + "Thou can'st not wave thy staff in air, + Or dip thy paddle in the lake, + But it carves the bow of beauty there, + And the ripples in rhyme the oar forsake." + +He called upon the poet to + + "Tell men what they knew before; + Paint the prospect from their door." + +And his practice was like his counsel. He saw our plain New England life +with as honest New England eyes as ever looked at a huckleberry-bush or +into a milking-pail. + +This noble quality of his had its dangerous side. In one of his exalted +moods he would have us + + "Give to barrows, trays and pans + Grace and glimmer of romance." + +But in his Lecture on "Poetry and Imagination," he says:-- + + "What we once admired as poetry has long since come to be a sound + of tin pans; and many of our later books we have outgrown. Perhaps + Homer and Milton will be tin pans yet." + +The "grace and glimmer of romance" which was to invest the tin pan are +forgotten, and he uses it as a belittling object for comparison. He +himself was not often betrayed into the mistake of confounding the +prosaic with the poetical, but his followers, so far as the "realists" +have taken their hint from him, have done it most thoroughly. Mr. +Whitman enumerates all the objects he happens to be looking at as if +they were equally suggestive to the poetical mind, furnishing his reader +a large assortment on which he may exercise the fullest freedom of +selection. It is only giving him the same liberty that Lord Timothy +Dexter allowed his readers in the matter of punctuation, by leaving all +stops out of his sentences, and printing at the end of his book a page +of commas, semicolons, colons, periods, notes of interrogation and +exclamation, with which the reader was expected to "pepper" the pages as +he might see fit. + +French realism does not stop at the tin pan, but must deal with the +slop-pail and the wash-tub as if it were literally true that + + "In the mud and scum of things + There alway, alway something sings." + +Happy were it for the world if M. Zola and his tribe would stop even +there; but when they cross the borders of science into its infected +districts, leaving behind them the reserve and delicacy which the +genuine scientific observer never forgets to carry with him, they +disgust even those to whom the worst scenes they describe are too +wretchedly familiar. The true realist is such a man as Parent du +Chatelet; exploring all that most tries the senses and the sentiments, +and reporting all truthfully, but soberly, chastely, without needless +circumstance, or picturesque embellishment, for a useful end, and not +for a mere sensational effect. + +What a range of subjects from "The Problem" and "Uriel" and +"Forerunners" to "The Humble-Bee" and "The Titmouse!" Nor let the reader +who thinks the poet must go far to find a fitting theme fail to read the +singularly impressive home-poem, "Hamatreya," beginning with the names +of the successive owners of a piece of land in Concord,--probably the +same he owned after the last of them:-- + + "Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer, Meriam, Flint," + +and ending with the austere and solemn "Earth-Song." + +Full of poetical feeling, and with a strong desire for poetical +expression, Emerson experienced a difficulty in the mechanical part +of metrical composition. His muse picked her way as his speech did in +conversation and in lecturing. He made desperate work now and then with +rhyme and rhythm, showing that though a born poet he was not a born +singer. Think of making "feeble" rhyme with "people," "abroad" with +"Lord," and contemplate the following couplet which one cannot make +rhyme without actual verbicide:-- + + "Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear, + And up the tall mast runs the woodpeck"-are! + +And how could prose go on all-fours more unmetrically than this? + + "In Adirondac lakes + At morn or noon the guide rows bare-headed." + +It was surely not difficult to say-- + + "At morn or noon bare-headed rows the guide." +And yet while we note these blemishes, many of us will confess that we +like his uncombed verse better, oftentimes, than if it were trimmed more +neatly and disposed more nicely. When he is at his best, his lines flow +with careless ease, as a mountain stream tumbles, sometimes rough and +sometimes smooth, but all the more interesting for the rocks it runs +against and the grating of the pebbles it rolls over. + +There is one trick of verse which Emerson occasionally, not very often, +indulges in. This is the crowding of a redundant syllable into a line. +It is a liberty which is not to be abused by the poet. Shakespeare, the +supreme artist, and Milton, the "mighty-mouth'd inventor of harmonies," +knew how to use it effectively. Shelley employed it freely. Bryant +indulged in it occasionally, and wrote an article in an early number of +the "North American Review" in defence of its use. Willis was fond of +it. As a relief to monotony it may be now and then allowed,--may even +have an agreeable effect in breaking the monotony of too formal verse. +But it may easily become a deformity and a cause of aversion. A humpback +may add picturesqueness to a procession, but if there are too many +humpbacks in line we turn away from the sight of them. Can any ear +reconcile itself to the last of these three lines of Emerson's? + + "Oh, what is Heaven but the fellowship + Of minds that each can stand against the world + By its own meek and incorruptible will?" + +These lines that lift their backs up in the middle--span-worm lines, we +may call them--are not to be commended for common use because some great +poets have now and then admitted them. They have invaded some of our +recent poetry as the canker-worms gather on our elms in June. Emerson +has one or two of them here and there, but they never swarm on his +leaves so as to frighten us away from their neighborhood. + +As for the violently artificial rhythms and rhymes which have reappeared +of late in English and American literature, Emerson would as soon have +tried to ride three horses at once in a circus as to shut himself up in +triolets, or attempt any cat's-cradle tricks of rhyming sleight of hand. + +If we allow that Emerson is not a born singer, that he is a careless +versifier and rhymer, we must still recognize that there is something +in his verse which belongs, indissolubly, sacredly, to his thought. Who +would decant the wine of his poetry from its quaint and antique-looking +_lagena_?--Read his poem to the Aeolian harp ("The Harp") and his model +betrays itself:-- + + "These syllables that Nature spoke, + And the thoughts that in him woke + Can adequately utter none + Save to his ear the wind-harp lone. + Therein I hear the Parcae reel + The threads of man at their humming wheel, + The threads of life and power and pain, + So sweet and mournful falls the strain. + And best can teach its Delphian chord + How Nature to the soul is moored, + If once again that silent string, + As erst it wont, would thrill and ring." + +There is no need of quoting any of the poems which have become familiar +to most true lovers of poetry. Emerson saw fit to imitate the Egyptians +by placing "The Sphinx" at the entrance of his temple of song. This poem +was not fitted to attract worshippers. It is not easy of comprehension, +not pleasing in movement. As at first written it had one verse in it +which sounded so much like a nursery rhyme that Emerson was prevailed +upon to omit it in the later versions. There are noble passages in it, +but they are for the adept and not for the beginner. A commonplace young +person taking up the volume and puzzling his or her way along will come +by and by to the verse:-- + + "Have I a lover + Who is noble and free?-- + I would he were nobler + Than to love me." + +The commonplace young person will be apt to say or think _c'est +magnifique, mais ce n'est pas_--_l'amour_. + +The third poem in the volume, "The Problem," should have stood first in +order. This ranks among the finest of Emerson's poems. All his earlier +verse has a certain freshness which belongs to the first outburst +of song in a poetic nature. "Each and All," "The Humble-Bee," "The +Snow-Storm," should be read before "Uriel," "The World-Soul," or +"Mithridates." "Monadnoc" will be a good test of the reader's taste for +Emerson's poetry, and after this "Woodnotes." + +In studying his poems we must not overlook the delicacy of many of their +descriptive portions. If in the flights of his imagination he is +like the strong-winged bird of passage, in his exquisite choice of +descriptive epithets he reminds me of the _tenui-rostrals._ His subtle +selective instinct penetrates the vocabulary for the one word he wants, +as the long, slender bill of those birds dives deep into the flower for +its drop of honey. Here is a passage showing admirably the two different +conditions: wings closed and the selective instinct picking out its +descriptive expressions; then suddenly wings flashing open and the +imagination in the firmament, where it is always at home. Follow the +pitiful inventory of insignificances of the forlorn being he describes +with a pathetic humor more likely to bring a sigh than a smile, and then +mark the grand hyperbole of the last two lines. The passage is from the +poem called "Destiny":-- + + "Alas! that one is born in blight, + Victim of perpetual slight: + When thou lookest on his face, + Thy heart saith 'Brother, go thy ways! + None shall ask thee what thou doest, + Or care a rush for what thou knowest. + Or listen when thou repliest, + Or remember where thou liest, + Or how thy supper is sodden;' + And another is born + To make the sun forgotten." + +Of all Emerson's poems the "Concord Hymn" is the most nearly complete +and faultless,--but it is not distinctively Emersonian. It is such a +poem as Collins might have written,--it has the very movement and +melody of the "Ode on the Death of Mr. Thomson," and of the "Dirge in +Cymbeline," with the same sweetness and tenderness of feeling. Its one +conspicuous line, + + "And fired the shot heard round the world," + +must not take to itself all the praise deserved by this perfect little +poem, a model for all of its kind. Compact, expressive, serene, solemn, +musical, in four brief stanzas it tells the story of the past, records +the commemorative act of the passing day, and invokes the higher Power +that governs the future to protect the Memorial-stone sacred to Freedom +and her martyrs. + +These poems of Emerson's find the readers that must listen to them and +delight in them, as the "Ancient Mariner" fastened upon the man who must +hear him. If any doubter wishes to test his fitness for reading them, +and if the poems already mentioned are not enough to settle the +question, let him read the paragraph of "May-Day," beginning,-- + + "I saw the bud-crowned Spring go forth," + +"Sea-shore," the fine fragments in the "Appendix" to his published +works, called, collectively, "The Poet," blocks bearing the mark of +poetic genius, but left lying round for want of the structural instinct, +and last of all, that which is, in many respects, first of all, the +"Threnody," a lament over the death of his first-born son. This poem has +the dignity of "Lycidas" without its refrigerating classicism, and with +all the tenderness of Cowper's lines on the receipt of his mother's +picture. It may well compare with others of the finest memorial poems in +the language,--with Shelley's "Adonais," and Matthew Arnold's "Thyrsis," +leaving out of view Tennyson's "In Memoriam" as of wider scope and +larger pattern. + +Many critics will concede that there is much truth in Mr. Arnold's +remark on the want of "evolution" in Emerson's poems. One is struck +with the fact that a great number of fragments lie about his poetical +workshop: poems begun and never finished; scraps of poems, chips of +poems, paving the floor with intentions never carried out. One cannot +help remembering Coleridge with his incomplete "Christabel," and his +"Abyssinian Maid," and her dulcimer which she never got a tune out of. +We all know there was good reason why Coleridge should have been infirm +of purpose. But when we look at that great unfinished picture over which +Allston labored with the hopeless ineffectiveness of Sisyphus; when we +go through a whole gallery of pictures by an American artist in which +the backgrounds are slighted as if our midsummer heats had taken away +half the artist's life and vigor; when we walk round whole rooms full of +sketches, impressions, effects, symphonies, invisibilities, and other +apologies for honest work, it would not be strange if it should suggest +a painful course of reflections as to the possibility that there may be +something in our climatic or other conditions which tends to scholastic +and artistic anaemia and insufficiency,--the opposite of what we find +showing itself in the full-blooded verse of poets like Browning and on +the flaming canvas of painters like Henri Regnault. Life seemed lustier +in Old England than in New England to Emerson, to Hawthorne, and to +that admirable observer, Mr. John Burroughs. Perhaps we require another +century or two of acclimation. + +Emerson never grappled with any considerable metrical difficulties. +He wrote by preference in what I have ventured to call the normal +respiratory measure,--octosyllabic verse, in which one common expiration +is enough and not too much for the articulation of each line. The "fatal +facility" for which this verse is noted belongs to it as recited and +also as written, and it implies the need of only a minimum of skill and +labor. I doubt if Emerson would have written a verse of poetry if he had +been obliged to use the Spenserian stanza. In the simple measures he +habitually employed he found least hindrance to his thought. + +Every true poet has an atmosphere as much as every great painter. The +golden sunshine of Claude and the pearly mist of Corot belonged to their +way of looking at nature as much as the color of their eyes and hair +belonged to their personalities. So with the poets; for Wordsworth the +air is always serene and clear, for Byron the sky is uncertain between +storm and sunshine. Emerson sees all nature in the same pearly mist +that wraps the willows and the streams of Corot. Without its own +characteristic atmosphere, illuminated by + + "The light that never was on sea or land," + +we may have good verse but no true poem. In his poetry there is not +merely this atmosphere, but there is always a mirage in the horizon. + +Emerson's poetry is eminently subjective,--if Mr. Ruskin, who hates the +word, will pardon me for using it in connection with a reference to two +of his own chapters in his "Modern Painters." These are the chapter +on "The Pathetic Fallacy," and the one which follows it "On Classical +Landscape." In these he treats of the transfer of a writer's mental or +emotional conditions to the external nature which he contemplates. He +asks his readers to follow him in a long examination of what he calls by +the singular name mentioned, "the pathetic fallacy," because, he says, +"he will find it eminently characteristic of the modern mind; and in the +landscape, whether of literature or art, he will also find the modern +painter endeavoring to express something which he, as a living creature, +imagines in the lifeless object, while the classical and mediaeval +painters were content with expressing the unimaginary and actual +qualities of the object itself." + +Illustrations of Mr. Ruskin's "pathetic fallacy" may be found almost +anywhere in Emerson's poems. Here is one which offers itself without +search:-- + + "Daily the bending skies solicit man, + The seasons chariot him from this exile, + The rainbow hours bedeck his glowing wheels, + The storm-winds urge the heavy weeks along, + Suns haste to set, that so remoter lights + Beckon the wanderer to his vaster home." + +The expression employed by Ruskin gives the idea that he is dealing with +a defect. If he had called the state of mind to which he refers the +_sympathetic illusion_, his readers might have looked upon it more +justly. + +It would be a pleasant and not a difficult task to trace the +resemblances between Emerson's poetry and that of other poets. Two or +three such resemblances have been incidentally referred to, a few others +may be mentioned. + +In his contemplative study of Nature he reminds us of Wordsworth, at +least in certain brief passages, but he has not the staying power of +that long-breathed, not to say long-winded, lover of landscapes. Both +are on the most intimate terms with Nature, but Emerson contemplates +himself as belonging to her, while Wordsworth feels as if she belonged +to him. + + "Good-by, proud world," + +recalls Spenser and Raleigh. "The Humble-Bee" is strongly marked by the +manner and thought of Marvell. Marvell's + + "Annihilating all that's made + To a green thought in a green shade," + +may well have suggested Emerson's + + "The green silence dost displace + With thy mellow, breezy bass." + +"The Snow-Storm" naturally enough brings to mind the descriptions of +Thomson and of Cowper, and fragment as it is, it will not suffer by +comparison with either. + +"Woodnotes," one of his best poems, has passages that might have been +found in Milton's "Comus;" this, for instance:-- + + "All constellations of the sky + Shed their virtue through his eye. + Him Nature giveth for defence + His formidable innocence." + +Of course his Persian and Indian models betray themselves in many of +his poems, some of which, called translations, sound as if they were +original. + +So we follow him from page to page and find him passing through many +moods, but with one pervading spirit:-- + + "Melting matter into dreams, + Panoramas which I saw, + And whatever glows or seems + Into substance, into Law." + +We think in reading his "Poems" of these words of Sainte-Beuve:-- + + "The greatest poet is not he who has done the best; it is he who + suggests the most; he, not all of whose meaning is at first obvious, + and who leaves you much to desire, to explain, to study; much to + complete in your turn." + +Just what he shows himself in his prose, Emerson shows himself in his +verse. Only when he gets into rhythm and rhyme he lets us see more of +his personality, he ventures upon more audacious imagery, his flight is +higher and swifter, his brief crystalline sentences have dissolved and +pour in continuous streams. Where they came from, or whither they flow +to empty themselves, we cannot always say,--it is enough to enjoy them +as they flow by us. + +Incompleteness--want of beginning, middle, and end,--is their too common +fault. His pages are too much like those artists' studios all hung round +with sketches and "bits" of scenery. "The Snow-Storm" and "Sea-Shore" +are "bits" out of a landscape that was never painted, admirable, so far +as they go, but forcing us to ask, "Where is the painting for which +these scraps are studies?" or "Out of what great picture have these +pieces been cut?" + +We do not want his fragments to be made wholes,--if we did, what hand +could be found equal to the task? We do not want his rhythms and rhymes +smoothed and made more melodious. They are as honest as Chaucer's, +and we like them as they are, not modernized or manipulated by any +versifying drill-sergeant,--if we wanted them reshaped whom could we +trust to meddle with them? + +His poetry is elemental; it has the rock beneath it in the eternal laws +on which it rests; the roll of deep waters in its grander harmonies; its +air is full of Aeolian strains that waken and die away as the breeze +wanders over them; and through it shines the white starlight, and +from time to time flashes a meteor that startles us with its sudden +brilliancy. + +After all our criticisms, our selections, our analyses, our comparisons, +we have to recognize that there is a charm in Emerson's poems +which cannot be defined any more than the fragrance of a rose or a +hyacinth,--any more than the tone of a voice which we should know from +all others if all mankind were to pass before us, and each of its +articulating representatives should call us by name. + +All our crucibles and alembics leave unaccounted for the great mystery +of _style_. "The style is of [a part of] the man himself," said Buffon, +and this saying has passed into the stronger phrase, "The style is the +man." + +The "personal equation" which differentiates two observers is not +confined to the tower of the astronomer. Every human being is +individualized by a new arrangement of elements. His mind is a safe with +a lock to which only certain letters are the key. His ideas follow in +an order of their own. His words group themselves together in special +sequences, in peculiar rhythms, in unlooked-for combinations, the +total effect of which is to stamp all that he says or writes with +his individuality. We may not be able to assign the reason of the +fascination the poet we have been considering exercises over us. But +this we can say, that he lives in the highest atmosphere of thought; +that he is always in the presence of the infinite, and ennobles the +accidents of human existence so that they partake of the absolute and +eternal while he is looking at them; that he unites a royal dignity +of manner with the simplicity of primitive nature; that his words and +phrases arrange themselves, as if by an elective affinity of their own, +with a _curiosa felicitas_ which captivates and enthrals the reader who +comes fully under its influence, and that through all he sings as in all +he says for us we recognize the same serene, high, pure intelligence and +moral nature, infinitely precious to us, not only in themselves, but as +a promise of what the transplanted life, the air and soil and breeding +of this western world may yet educe from their potential virtues, +shaping themselves, at length, in a literature as much its own as the +Rocky Mountains and the Mississippi. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +Recollections of Emerson's Last Years.--Mr. Conway's Visits.--Extracts +from Mr. Whitman's Journal.--Dr. Le Baron Russell's Visit.--Dr. Edward +Emerson's Account.--Illness and Death.--Funeral Services. + + +Mr. Conway gives the following account of two visits to Emerson after +the decline of his faculties had begun to make itself obvious:-- + + "In 1875, when I stayed at his house in Concord for a little time, + it was sad enough to find him sitting as a listener before those + who used to sit at his feet in silence. But when alone with him he + conversed in the old way, and his faults of memory seemed at + times to disappear. There was something striking in the kind of + forgetfulness by which he suffered. He remembered the realities + and uses of things when he could not recall their names. He would + describe what he wanted or thought of; when he could not recall + 'chair' he could speak of that which supports the human frame, and + 'the implement that cultivates the soil' must do for plough.-- + + "In 1880, when I was last in Concord, the trouble had made heavy + strides. The intensity of his silent attention to every word that + was said was painful, suggesting a concentration of his powers to + break through the invisible walls closing around them. Yet his face + was serene; he was even cheerful, and joined in our laughter at some + letters his eldest daughter had preserved, from young girls, trying + to coax autograph letters, and in one case asking for what price he + would write a valedictory address she had to deliver at college. He + was still able to joke about his 'naughty memory;' and no complaint + came from him when he once rallied himself on living too long. + Emerson appeared to me strangely beautiful at this time, and the + sweetness of his voice, when he spoke of the love and providence at + his side, is quite indescribable."-- + +One of the later glimpses we have of Emerson is that preserved in the +journal of Mr. Whitman, who visited Concord in the autumn of 1881. Mr. +Ireland gives a long extract from this journal, from which I take the +following:-- + + "On entering he had spoken very briefly, easily and politely to + several of the company, then settled himself in his chair, a trifle + pushed back, and, though a listener and apparently an alert one, + remained silent through the whole talk and discussion. And so, there + Emerson sat, and I looking at him. A good color in his face, eyes + clear, with the well-known expression of sweetness, and the old + clear-peering aspect quite the same." + +Mr. Whitman met him again the next day, Sunday, September 18th, and +records:-- + + "As just said, a healthy color in the cheeks, and good light in the + eyes, cheery expression, and just the amount of talking that best + suited, namely, a word or short phrase only where needed, and almost + always with a smile." + +Dr. Le Baron Russell writes to me of Emerson at a still later period:-- + + "One incident I will mention which occurred at my last visit + to Emerson, only a few months before his death. I went by Mrs. + Emerson's request to pass a Sunday at their house at Concord towards + the end of June. His memory had been failing for some time, and his + mind as you know was clouded, but the old charm of his voice and + manner had never left him. On the morning after my arrival Mrs. + Emerson took us into the garden to see the beautiful roses in which + she took great delight. One red rose of most brilliant color she + called our attention to especially; its 'hue' was so truly 'angry + and brave' that I involuntarily repeated Herbert's line,-- + + 'Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,'-- + + from the verses which Emerson had first repeated to me so long ago. + Emerson looked at the rose admiringly, and then as if by a sudden + impulse lifted his hat gently, and said with a low bow, 'I take off + my hat to it.'" + +Once a poet, always a poet. It was the same reverence for the beautiful +that he had shown in the same way in his younger days on entering the +wood, as Governor Rice has told us the story, given in an earlier +chapter. + +I do not remember Emerson's last time of attendance at the "Saturday +Club," but I recollect that he came after the trouble in finding words +had become well marked. "My memory hides itself," he said. The last time +I saw him, living, was at Longfellow's funeral. I was sitting opposite +to him when he rose, and going to the side of the coffin, looked +intently upon the face of the dead poet. A few minutes later he rose +again and looked once more on the familiar features, not apparently +remembering that he had just done so. Mr. Conway reports that he said to +a friend near him, "That gentleman was a sweet, beautiful soul, but I +have entirely forgotten his name." + +Dr. Edward Emerson has very kindly furnished me, in reply to my request, +with information regarding his father's last years which will interest +every one who has followed his life through its morning and midday to +the hour of evening shadows. + +"May-Day," which was published in 1867, was made up of the poems written +since his first volume appeared. After this he wrote no poems, but with +some difficulty fitted the refrain to the poem "Boston," which had +remained unfinished since the old Anti-slavery days. "Greatness," and +the "Phi Beta Kappa Oration" of 1867, were among his last pieces of +work. His College Lectures, "The Natural History of the Intellect," +were merely notes recorded years before, and now gathered and welded +together. In 1876 he revised his poems, and made the selections from +them for the "Little Classic" edition of his works, then called +"Selected Poems." In that year he gave his "Address to the Students of +the University of Virginia." This was a paper written long before, and +its revision, with the aid of his daughter Ellen, was accomplished with +much difficulty. + +The year 1867 was about the limit of his working life. During the last +five years he hardly answered a letter. Before this time it had become +increasingly hard for him to do so, and he always postponed and thought +he should feel more able the next day, until his daughter Ellen was +compelled to assume the correspondence. He did, however, write some +letters in 1876, as, for instance, the answer to the invitation of the +Virginia students. + +Emerson left off going regularly to the "Saturday Club" probably in +1875. He used to depend on meeting Mr. Cabot there, but after Mr. Cabot +began to come regularly to work on "Letters and Social Aims," Emerson, +who relied on his friendly assistance, ceased attending the meetings. +The trouble he had in finding the word he wanted was a reason for his +staying away from all gatherings where he was called upon to take a +part in conversation, though he the more willingly went to lectures and +readings and to church. His hearing was very slightly impaired, and his +sight remained pretty good, though he sometimes said letters doubled, +and that "M's" and "N's" troubled him to read. He recognized the members +of his own family and his _old_ friends; but, as I infer from this +statement, he found a difficulty in remembering the faces of new +acquaintances, as is common with old persons. + +He continued the habit of reading,--read through all his printed works +with much interest and surprise, went through all his manuscripts, and +endeavored, unsuccessfully, to index them. In these Dr. Emerson found +written "Examined 1877 or 1878," but he found no later date. + +In the last year or two he read anything which he picked up on his +table, but he read the same things over, and whispered the words like a +child. He liked to look over the "Advertiser," and was interested in the +"Nation." He enjoyed pictures in books and showed them with delight to +guests. + +All this with slight changes and omissions is from the letter of Dr. +Emerson in answer to my questions. The twilight of a long, bright day +of life may be saddening, but when the shadow falls so gently and +gradually, with so little that is painful and so much that is soothing +and comforting, we do not shrink from following the imprisoned spirit to +the very verge of its earthly existence. + +But darker hours were in the order of nature very near at hand. From +these he was saved by his not untimely release from the imprisonment of +the worn-out bodily frame. + +In April, 1882, Emerson took a severe cold, and became so hoarse that he +could hardly speak. When his son, Dr. Edward Emerson, called to see him, +he found him on the sofa, feverish, with more difficulty of expression +than usual, dull, but not uncomfortable. As he lay on his couch he +pointed out various objects, among others a portrait of Carlyle "the +good man,--my friend." His son told him that he had seen Carlyle, which +seemed to please him much. On the following day the unequivocal signs of +pneumonia showed themselves, and he failed rapidly. He still recognized +those around him, among the rest Judge Hoar, to whom he held out his +arms for a last embrace. A sharp pain coming on, ether was administered +with relief. And in a little time, surrounded by those who loved him +and whom he loved, he passed quietly away. He lived very nearly to the +completion of his seventy-ninth year, having been born May 25, 1803, and +his death occurring on the 27th of April, 1882. + +Mr. Ireland has given a full account of the funeral, from which are, for +the most part, taken the following extracts:-- + + "The last rites over the remains of Ralph Waldo Emerson took place + at Concord on the 30th of April. A special train from Boston carried + a large number of people. Many persons were on the street, attracted + by the services, but were unable to gain admission to the church + where the public ceremonies were held. Almost every building in town + bore over its entrance-door a large black and white rosette with + other sombre draperies. The public buildings were heavily draped, + and even the homes of the very poor bore outward marks of grief at + the loss of their friend and fellow-townsman. + + "The services at the house, which were strictly private, occurred + at 2.30, and were conducted by Rev. W.H. Furness of Philadelphia, a + kindred spirit and an almost life-long friend. They were simple in + character, and only Dr. Furness took part in them. The body lay in + the front northeast room, in which were gathered the family and + close friends of the deceased. The only flowers were contained in + three vases on the mantel, and were lilies of the valley, red and + white roses, and arbutus. The adjoining room and hall were filled + with friends and neighbors. + + "At the church many hundreds of persons were awaiting the arrival + of the procession, and all the space, except the reserved pews, was + packed. In front of the pulpit were simple decorations, boughs of + pine covered the desk, and in their centre was a harp of yellow + jonquils, the gift of Miss Louisa M. Alcott. Among the floral + tributes was one from the teachers and scholars in the Emerson + school. By the sides of the pulpit were white and scarlet geraniums + and pine boughs, and high upon the wall a laurel wreath. + + "Before 3.30 the pall-bearers brought in the plain black walnut + coffin, which was placed before the pulpit. The lid was turned back, + and upon it was put a cluster of richly colored pansies and a small + bouquet of roses. While the coffin was being carried in, 'Pleyel's + Hymn' was rendered on the organ by request of the family of the + deceased. Dr. James Freeman Clarke then entered the pulpit. Judge + E. Rockwood Hoar remained by the coffin below, and when the + congregation became quiet, made a brief and pathetic address, his + voice many times trembling with emotion." + +I subjoin this most impressive "Address" entire, from the manuscript +with which Judge Hoar has kindly favored me:-- + + "The beauty of Israel is fallen in its high place! Mr. Emerson + has died; and we, his friends and neighbors, with this sorrowing + company, have turned aside the procession from his home to his + grave,--to this temple of his fathers, that we may here unite in our + parting tribute of memory and love. + + "There is nothing to mourn for him. That brave and manly life was + rounded out to the full length of days. That dying pillow was + softened by the sweetest domestic affection; and as he lay down to + the sleep which the Lord giveth his beloved, his face was as the + face of an angel, and his smile seemed to give a glimpse of the + opening heavens. + + "Wherever the English language is spoken throughout the world his + fame is established and secure. Throughout this great land and from + beyond the sea will come innumerable voices of sorrow for this great + public loss. But we, his neighbors and townsmen, feel that he was + _ours_. He was descended from the founders of the town. He chose our + village as the place where his lifelong work was to be done. It was + to our fields and orchards that his presence gave such value; it was + our streets in which the children looked up to him with love, and + the elders with reverence. He was our ornament and pride. + + "'He is gone--is dust,-- + He the more fortunate! Yea, he hath finished! + For him there is no longer any future. + His life is bright--bright without spot it was + And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour + Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap. + Far off is he, above desire and fear; + No more submitted to the change and chance + Of the uncertain planets.-- + + "'The bloom is vanished from my life, + For, oh! he stood beside me like my youth; + Transformed for me the real to a dream, + Clothing the palpable and the familiar + With golden exhalations of the dawn. + Whatever fortunes wait my future toils, + The _beautiful_ is vanished and returns not.' + + "That lofty brow, the home of all wise thoughts and high + aspirations,--those lips of eloquent music,--that great soul, which + trusted in God and never let go its hope of immortality,--that large + heart, to which everything that belonged to man was welcome,--that + hospitable nature, loving and tender and generous, having no + repulsion or scorn for anything but meanness and baseness,--oh, + friend, brother, father, lover, teacher, inspirer, guide! is there + no more that we can do now than to give thee this our hail and + farewell!" + +Judge Hoar's remarks were followed by the congregation singing the +hymns, "Thy will be done," "I will not fear the fate provided by Thy +love." The Rev. Dr. Furness then read selections from the Scriptures. + +The Rev. James Freeman Clarke then delivered an "Address," from which I +extract two eloquent and inspiring passages, regretting to omit any +that fell from lips so used to noble utterances and warmed by their +subject,--for there is hardly a living person more competent to speak or +write of Emerson than this high-minded and brave-souled man, who did not +wait until he was famous to be his admirer and champion. + + "The saying of the Liturgy is true and wise, that 'in the midst of + life we are in death.' But it is still more true that in the midst + of death we are in life. Do we ever believe so much in immortality + as when we look on such a dear and noble face, now so still, which a + few hours ago was radiant with thought and love? 'He is not here: + he is risen.' That power which we knew,--that soaring intelligence, + that soul of fire, that ever-advancing spirit,--_that_ cannot have + been suddenly annihilated with the decay of these earthly organs. It + has left its darkened dust behind. It has outsoared the shadow of + our night. God does not trifle with his creatures by bringing to + nothing the ripe fruit of the ages by the lesion of a cerebral cell, + or some bodily tissue. Life does not die, but matter dies off from + it. The highest energy we know, the soul of man, the unit in which + meet intelligence, imagination, memory, hope, love, purpose, + insight,--this agent of immense resource and boundless power,--this + has not been subdued by its instrument. When we think of such an one + as he, we can only think of life, never of death. + + "Such was his own faith, as expressed in his paper on 'Immortality.' + But he himself was the best argument for immortality. Like the + greatest thinkers, he did not rely on logical proof, but on the + higher evidence of universal instincts,--the vast streams of belief + which flow through human thought like currents in the ocean; those + shoreless rivers which forever roll along their paths in the + Atlantic and Pacific, not restrained by banks, but guided by the + revolutions of the globe and the attractions of the sun." + + * * * * * + + "Let us then ponder his words:-- + + 'Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know + What rainbows teach and sunsets show? + Voice of earth to earth returned, + Prayers of saints that inly burned, + Saying, _What is excellent + As God lives, is permanent; + Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain; + Hearts' love will meet thee again._ + + * * * * + + House and tenant go to ground + Lost in God, in Godhead found.'" + +After the above address a feeling prayer was offered by Rev. Howard M. +Brown, of Brookline, and the benediction closed the exercises in the +church. Immediately before the benediction, Mr. Alcott recited the +following sonnet, which he had written for the occasion:--- + + "His harp is silent: shall successors rise, + Touching with venturous hand the trembling string, + Kindle glad raptures, visions of surprise, + And wake to ecstasy each slumbering thing? + Shall life and thought flash new in wondering eyes, + As when the seer transcendent, sweet, and wise, + World-wide his native melodies did sing, + Flushed with fair hopes and ancient memories? + Ah, no! That matchless lyre shall silent lie: + None hath the vanished minstrel's wondrous skill + To touch that instrument with art and will. + With him, winged poesy doth droop and die; + While our dull age, left voiceless, must lament + The bard high heaven had for its service sent." + + + "Over an hour was occupied by the passing files of neighbors, + friends, and visitors looking for the last time upon the face of the + dead poet. The body was robed completely in white, and the face bore + a natural and peaceful expression. From the church the procession + took its way to the cemetery. The grave was made beneath a tall + pine-tree upon the hill-top of Sleepy Hollow, where lie the bodies + of his friends Thoreau and Hawthorne, the upturned sod being + concealed by strewings of pine boughs. A border of hemlock spray + surrounded the grave and completely lined its sides. The services + here were very brief, and the casket was soon lowered to its final + resting-place. + + "The Rev. Dr. Haskins, a cousin of the family, an Episcopal + clergyman, read the Episcopal Burial Service, and closed with the + Lord's Prayer, ending at the words, 'and deliver us from evil.' + In this all the people joined. Dr. Haskins then pronounced the + benediction. After it was over the grandchildren passed the open + grave and threw flowers into it." + +So vanished from human eyes the bodily presence of Ralph Waldo Emerson, +and his finished record belongs henceforth to memory. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +EMERSON.--A RETROSPECT. + +Personality and Habits of Life.--His Commission and Errand.--As a +Lecturer.--His Use of Authorities.--Resemblance to Other Writers.--As +influenced by Others.--His Place as a Thinker.--Idealism and +Intuition.--Mysticism.--His Attitude respecting Science.--As an +American.--His Fondness for Solitary Study.--His Patience and +Amiability.--Feeling with which he was regarded.--Emerson and +Burns.--His Religious Belief.--His Relations with Clergymen.--Future of +his Reputation.--His Life judged by the Ideal Standard. + + +Emerson's earthly existence was in the estimate of his own philosophy so +slight an occurrence in his career of being that his relations to the +accidents of time and space seem quite secondary matters to one who has +been long living in the companionship of his thought. Still, he had to +be born, to take in his share of the atmosphere in which we are all +immersed, to have dealings with the world of phenomena, and at length to +let them all "soar and sing" as he left his earthly half-way house. It +is natural and pardonable that we should like to know the details of the +daily life which the men whom we admire have shared with common mortals, +ourselves among the rest. But Emerson has said truly "Great geniuses +have the shortest biographies. Their cousins can tell you nothing about +them. They lived in their writings, and so their home and street life +was trivial and commonplace." + +The reader has had many extracts from Emerson's writings laid before +him. It was no easy task to choose them, for his paragraphs are +so condensed, so much in the nature of abstracts, that it is like +distilling absolute alcohol to attempt separating the spirit of what he +says from his undiluted thought. His books are all so full of his life +to their last syllable that we might letter every volume _Emersoniana_, +by Ralph Waldo Emerson. + +From the numerous extracts I have given from Emerson's writings it may +be hoped that the reader will have formed an idea for himself of the man +and of the life which have been the subjects of these pages. But he may +probably expect something like a portrait of the poet and moralist from +the hand of his biographer, if the author of this Memoir may borrow the +name which will belong to a future and better equipped laborer in the +same field. He may not unreasonably look for some general estimate of +the life work of the scholar and thinker of whom he has been reading. +He will not be disposed to find fault with the writer of the Memoir +if he mentions many things which would seem very trivial but for the +interest they borrow from the individual to whom they relate. + +Emerson's personal appearance was that of a scholar, the descendant of +scholars. He was tall and slender, with the complexion which is bred in +the alcove and not in the open air. He used to tell his son Edward that +he measured six feet in his shoes, but his son thinks he could hardly +have straightened himself to that height in his later years. He was very +light for a man of his stature. He got on the scales at Cheyenne, on +his trip to California, comparing his weight with that of a lady of +the party. A little while afterwards he asked of his fellow-traveller, +Professor Thayer, "How much did I weigh? A hundred and forty?" "A +hundred and forty and a half," was the answer. "Yes, yes, a hundred and +forty and a half! That _half_ I prize; it is an index of better things!" + +Emerson's head was not such as Schopenhauer insists upon for a +philosopher. He wore a hat measuring six and seven eighths on the +_cephalometer_ used by hatters, which is equivalent to twenty-one inches +and a quarter of circumference. The average size is from seven to seven +and an eighth, so that his head was quite small in that dimension. It +was long and narrow, but lofty, almost symmetrical, and of more nearly +equal breadth in its anterior and posterior regions than many or most +heads. + +His shoulders sloped so much as to be commented upon for this +peculiarity by Mr. Gilfillan, and like "Ammon's great son," he carried +one shoulder a little higher than the other. His face was thin, his nose +somewhat accipitrine, casting a broad shadow; his mouth rather wide, +well formed and well closed, carrying a question and an assertion in +its finely finished curves; the lower lip a little prominent, the chin +shapely and firm, as becomes the corner-stone of the countenance. His +expression was calm, sedate, kindly, with that look of refinement, +centring about the lips, which is rarely found in the male New +Englander, unless the family features have been for two or three +cultivated generations the battlefield and the playground of varied +thoughts and complex emotions as well as the sensuous and nutritive port +of entry. His whole look was irradiated by an ever active inquiring +intelligence. His manner was noble and gracious. Few of our +fellow-countrymen have had larger opportunities of seeing distinguished +personages than our present minister at the Court of St. James. In +a recent letter to myself, which I trust Mr. Lowell will pardon my +quoting, he says of Emerson:-- + +"There was a majesty about him beyond all other men I have known, and he +habitually dwelt in that ampler and diviner air to which most of us, if +ever, only rise in spurts." + +From members of his own immediate family I have derived some particulars +relating to his personality and habits which are deserving of record. + +His hair was brown, quite fine, and, till he was fifty, very thick. +His eyes were of the "strongest and brightest blue." The member of the +family who tells me this says:-- + +"My sister and I have looked for many years to see whether any one else +had such absolutely blue eyes, and have never found them except in +sea-captains. I have seen three sea-captains who had them." + +He was not insensible to music, but his gift in that direction was very +limited, if we may judge from this family story. When he was in College, +and the singing-master was gathering his pupils, Emerson presented +himself, intending to learn to sing. The master received him, and when +his turn came, said to him, "Chord!" "What?" said Emerson. "Chord! +Chord! I tell you," repeated the master. "I don't know what you mean," +said Emerson. "Why, sing! Sing a note." "So I made some kind of a noise, +and the singing-master said, 'That will do, sir. You need not come +again.'" + +Emerson's mode of living was very simple: coffee in the morning, tea in +the evening, animal food by choice only once a day, wine only when with +others using it, but always _pie_ at breakfast. "It stood before him and +was the first thing eaten." Ten o'clock was his bed-time, six his hour +of rising until the last ten years of his life, when he rose at seven. +Work or company sometimes led him to sit up late, and this he could +do night after night. He never was hungry,--could go any time from +breakfast to tea without food and not know it, but was always ready for +food when it was set before him. + +He always walked from about four in the afternoon till tea-time, and +often longer when the day was fine, or he felt that he should work the +better. + +It is plain from his writings that Emerson was possessed all his life +long with the idea of his constitutional infirmity and insufficiency. +He hated invalidism, and had little patience with complaints about +ill-health, but in his poems, and once or twice in his letters to +Carlyle, he expresses himself with freedom about his own bodily +inheritance. In 1827, being then but twenty-four years old, he writes:-- + + "I bear in youth the sad infirmities + That use to undo the limb and sense of age." + +Four years later:-- + + "Has God on thee conferred + A bodily presence mean as Paul's, + Yet made thee bearer of a word + Which sleepy nations as with trumpet calls?" + +and again, in the same year:-- + + "Leave me, Fear, thy throbs are base, + Trembling for the body's sake."-- + +Almost forty years from the first of these dates we find him bewailing +in "Terminus" his inherited weakness of organization. + +And in writing to Carlyle, he says:-- + +"You are of the Anakirn and know nothing of the debility and +postponement of the blonde constitution." + +Again, "I am the victim of miscellany--miscellany of designs, vast +debility and procrastination." + +He thought too much of his bodily insufficiencies, which, it will be +observed, he refers to only in his private correspondence, and in that +semi-nudity of self-revelation which is the privilege of poetry. His +presence was fine and impressive, and his muscular strength was enough +to make him a rapid and enduring walker. + +Emerson's voice had a great charm in conversation, as in the +lecture-room. It was never loud, never shrill, but singularly +penetrating. He was apt to hesitate in the course of a sentence, so as +to be sure of the exact word he wanted; picking his way through +his vocabulary, to get at the best expression of his thought, as a +well-dressed woman crosses the muddy pavement to reach the opposite +sidewalk. It was this natural slight and not unpleasant semicolon +pausing of the memory which grew upon him in his years of decline, until +it rendered conversation laborious and painful to him. + +He never laughed loudly. When he laughed it was under protest, as it +were, with closed doors, his mouth shut, so that the explosion had to +seek another respiratory channel, and found its way out quietly, while +his eyebrows and nostrils and all his features betrayed the "ground +swell," as Professor Thayer happily called it, of the half-suppressed +convulsion. He was averse to loud laughter in others, and objected to +Margaret Fuller that she made him laugh too much. + +Emerson was not rich in some of those natural gifts which are considered +the birthright of the New Englander. He had not the mechanical turn of +the whittling Yankee. I once questioned him about his manual dexterity, +and he told me he could split a shingle four ways with one nail, +--which, as the intention is not to split it at all in fastening it +to the roof of a house or elsewhere, I took to be a confession of +inaptitude for mechanical works. He does not seem to have been very +accomplished in the handling of agricultural implements either, for it +is told in the family that his little son, Waldo, seeing him at work +with a spade, cried out, "Take care, papa,--you will dig your leg." + +He used to regret that he had no ear for music. I have said enough about +his verse, which often jars on a sensitive ear, showing a want of the +nicest perception of harmonies and discords in the arrangement of the +words. + +There are stories which show that Emerson had a retentive memory in the +earlier part of his life. It is hard to say from his books whether he +had or not, for he jotted down such a multitude of things in his diary +that this was a kind of mechanical memory which supplied him with +endless materials of thought and subjects for his pen. + +Lover and admirer of Plato as Emerson was, the doors of the academy, +over which was the inscription [Greek: maedeis hageometraetos +eseito]--Let no one unacquainted with geometry enter here,--would have +been closed to him. All the exact sciences found him an unwilling +learner. He says of himself that he cannot multiply seven by twelve with +impunity. + +In an unpublished manuscript kindly submitted to me by Mr. Frothingham, +Emerson is reported as saying, "God has given me the seeing eye, but not +the working hand." His gift was insight: he saw the germ through its +envelop; the particular in the light of the universal; the fact in +connection with the principle; the phenomenon as related to the law; all +this not by the slow and sure process of science, but by the sudden +and searching flashes of imaginative double vision. He had neither the +patience nor the method of the inductive reasoner; he passed from one +thought to another not by logical steps but by airy flights, which left +no footprints. This mode of intellectual action when found united with +natural sagacity becomes poetry, philosophy, wisdom, or prophecy in its +various forms of manifestation. Without that gift of natural sagacity +(_odoratio quaedam venatica_),--a good scent for truth and beauty,--it +appears as extravagance, whimsicality, eccentricity, or insanity, +according to its degree of aberration. Emerson was eminently sane for +an idealist. He carried the same sagacity into the ideal world that +Franklin showed in the affairs of common life. + +He was constitutionally fastidious, and had to school himself to become +able to put up with the terrible inflictions of uncongenial fellowships. +We must go to his poems to get at his weaknesses. The clown of the first +edition of "Monadnoc" "with heart of cat and eyes of bug," disappears +in the after-thought of the later version of the poem, but the eye that +recognized him and the nature that recoiled from him were there still. +What must he not have endured from the persecutions of small-minded +worshippers who fastened upon him for the interminable period between +the incoming and the outgoing railroad train! He was a model of patience +and good temper. We might have feared that he lacked the sensibility to +make such intrusions and offences an annoyance. But when Mr. Frothingham +gratifies the public with those most interesting personal recollections +which I have had the privilege of looking over, it will be seen that his +equanimity, admirable as it was, was not incapable of being disturbed, +and that on rare occasions he could give way to the feeling which showed +itself of old in the doom pronounced on the barren fig-tree. + +Of Emerson's affections his home-life, and those tender poems in memory +of his brothers and his son, give all the evidence that could be asked +or wished for. His friends were all who knew him, for none could be +his enemy; and his simple graciousness of manner, with the sincerity +apparent in every look and tone, hardly admitted indifference on the +part of any who met him were it but for a single hour. Even the little +children knew and loved him, and babes in arms returned his angelic +smile. Of the friends who were longest and most intimately associated +with him, it is needless to say much in this place. Of those who are +living, it is hardly time to speak; of those who are dead, much has +already been written. Margaret Fuller,--I must call my early schoolmate +as I best remember her,--leaves her life pictured in the mosaic of +five artists,--Emerson himself among the number; Thoreau is faithfully +commemorated in the loving memoir by Mr. Sanborn; Theodore Parker lives +in the story of his life told by the eloquent Mr. Weiss; Hawthorne +awaits his portrait from the master-hand of Mr. Lowell. + +How nearly any friend, other than his brothers Edward and Charles, came +to him, I cannot say, indeed I can hardly guess. That "majesty" Mr. +Lowell speaks of always seemed to hedge him round like the divinity that +doth hedge a king. What man was he who would lay his hand familiarly +upon his shoulder and call him Waldo? No disciple of Father Mathew +would be likely to do such a thing. There may have been such irreverent +persons, but if any one had so ventured at the "Saturday Club," it would +have produced a sensation like Brummel's "George, ring the bell," to +the Prince Regent. His ideas of friendship, as of love, seem almost too +exalted for our earthly conditions, and suggest the thought as do many +others of his characteristics, that the spirit which animated his mortal +frame had missed its way on the shining path to some brighter and better +sphere of being. + +Not so did Emerson appear among the plain working farmers of the village +in which he lived. He was a good, unpretending fellow-citizen who put on +no airs, who attended town-meetings, took his part in useful measures, +was no great hand at farming, but was esteemed and respected, and felt +to be a principal source of attraction to Concord, for strangers came +flocking to the place as if it held the tomb of Washington. + + * * * * * + +What was the errand on which he visited our earth,--the message with +which he came commissioned from the Infinite source of all life? + +Every human soul leaves its port with sealed orders. These may be opened +earlier or later on its voyage, but until they are opened no one can +tell what is to be his course or to what harbor he is bound. + +Emerson inherited the traditions of the Boston pulpit, such as they +were, damaged, in the view of the prevailing sects of the country, +perhaps by too long contact with the "Sons of Liberty," and their +revolutionary notions. But the most "liberal" Boston pulpit still held +to many doctrines, forms, and phrases open to the challenge of any +independent thinker. + +In the year 1832 this young priest, then a settled minister, "began," as +was said of another,--"to be about thirty years of age." He had opened +his sealed orders and had read therein: + +Thou shalt not profess that which thou dost not believe. + +Thou shalt not heed the voice of man when it agrees not with the voice +of God in thine own soul. + +Thou shalt study and obey the laws of the Universe and they will be thy +fellow-servants. + +Thou shalt speak the truth as thou seest it, without fear, in the spirit +of kindness to all thy fellow-creatures, dealing with the manifold +interests of life and the typical characters of history. + +Nature shall be to thee as a symbol. The life of the soul, in conscious +union with the Infinite, shall be for thee the only real existence. + +This pleasing show of an external world through which thou art passing +is given thee to interpret by the light which is in thee. Its least +appearance is not unworthy of thy study. Let thy soul be open and thine +eyes will reveal to thee beauty everywhere. + +Go forth with thy message among thy fellow-creatures; teach them they +must trust themselves as guided by that inner light which dwells with +the pure in heart, to whom it was promised of old that they shall see +God. + +Teach them that each generation begins the world afresh, in perfect +freedom; that the present is not the prisoner of the past, but that +today holds captive all yesterdays, to compare, to judge, to accept, to +reject their teachings, as these are shown by its own morning's sun. + +To thy fellow-countrymen thou shalt preach the gospel of the New World, +that here, here in our America, is the home of man; that here is the +promise of a new and more excellent social state than history has +recorded. + +Thy life shall be as thy teachings, brave, pure, truthful, beneficent, +hopeful, cheerful, hospitable to all honest belief, all sincere +thinkers, and active according to thy gifts and opportunities. + + * * * * * + +He was true to the orders he had received. Through doubts, troubles, +privations, opposition, he would not + + "bate a jot + Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer + Right onward." + +All through the writings of Emerson the spirit of these orders manifests +itself. His range of subjects is very wide, ascending to the highest +sphere of spiritual contemplation, bordering on that "intense inane" +where thought loses itself in breathless ecstasy, and stooping to the +homeliest maxims of prudence and the every-day lessons of good manners, +And all his work was done, not so much + + "As ever in his great Taskmaster's eye," + +as in the ever-present sense of divine companionship. + +He was called to sacrifice his living, his position, his intimacies, to +a doubt, and he gave them all up without a murmur. He might have been an +idol, and he broke his own pedestal to attack the idolatry which he saw +all about him. He gave up a comparatively easy life for a toilsome and +trying one; he accepted a precarious employment, which hardly kept him +above poverty, rather than wear the golden padlock on his lips which has +held fast the conscience of so many pulpit Chrysostoms. Instead of a +volume or two of sermons, bridled with a text and harnessed with a +confession of faith, he bequeathed us a long series of Discourses and +Essays in which we know we have his honest thoughts, free from that +professional bias which tends to make the pulpit teaching of the +fairest-minded preacher follow a diagonal of two forces,--the promptings +of his personal and his ecclesiastical opinions. + +Without a church or a pulpit, he soon had a congregation. It was largely +made up of young persons of both sexes, young by nature, if not +in years, who, tired of routine and formulae, and full of vague +aspirations, found in his utterances the oracles they sought. To them, +in the words of his friend and neighbor Mr. Alcott, he + + "Sang his full song of hope and lofty cheer." + +Nor was it only for a few seasons that he drew his audiences of devout +listeners around him. Another poet, his Concord neighbor, Mr. Sanborn, +who listened to him many years after the first flush of novelty was +over, felt the same enchantment, and recognized the same inspiring life +in his words, which had thrilled the souls of those earlier listeners. + + "His was the task and his the lordly gift + Our eyes, our hearts, bent earthward, to uplift." + +This was his power,--to inspire others, to make life purer, loftier, +calmer, brighter. Optimism is what the young want, and he could no more +help taking the hopeful view of the universe and its future than Claude +could help flooding his landscapes with sunshine. + +"Nature," published in 1836, "the first clear manifestation of his +genius," as Mr. Norton calls it, revealed him as an idealist and a +poet, with a tendency to mysticism. If he had been independent in +circumstances, he would doubtless have developed more freely in these +directions. But he had his living to get and a family to support, and +he must look about him for some paying occupation. The lecture-room +naturally presented itself to a scholar accustomed to speaking from +the pulpit. This medium of communicating thought was not as yet very +popular, and the rewards it offered were but moderate. Emerson was of a +very hopeful nature, however, and believed in its possibilities. + +--"I am always haunted with brave dreams of what might be accomplished +in the lecture-room,--so free and so unpretending a platform,--a Delos +not yet made fast. I imagine an eloquence of infinite variety, rich as +conversation can be, with anecdote, joke, tragedy, epics and pindarics, +argument and confession." So writes Emerson to Carlyle in 1841. + +It would be as unfair to overlook the special form in which Emerson gave +most of his thoughts to the world, as it would be to leave out of view +the calling of Shakespeare in judging his literary character. Emerson +was an essayist and a lecturer, as Shakespeare was a dramatist and a +play-actor. + +The exigencies of the theatre account for much that is, as it were, +accidental in the writings of Shakespeare. The demands of the +lecture-room account for many peculiarities which are characteristic of +Emerson as an author. The play must be in five acts, each of a given +length. The lecture must fill an hour and not overrun it. Both play and +lecture must be vivid, varied, picturesque, stimulating, or the audience +would tire before the allotted time was over. + +Both writers had this in common: they were poets and moralists. +They reproduced the conditions of life in the light of penetrative +observation and ideal contemplation; they illustrated its duties in +their breach and in their observance, by precepts and well-chosen +portraits of character. The particular form in which they wrote makes +little difference when we come upon the utterance of a noble truth or an +elevated sentiment. + +It was not a simple matter of choice with the dramatist or the lecturer +in what direction they should turn their special gifts. The actor had +learned his business on the stage; the lecturer had gone through his +apprenticeship in the pulpit. Each had his bread to earn, and he must +work, and work hard, in the way open before him. For twenty years the +playwright wrote dramas, and retired before middle age with a good +estate to his native town. For forty years Emerson lectured and +published lectures, and established himself at length in competence in +the village where his ancestors had lived and died before him. He never +became rich, as Shakespeare did. He was never in easy circumstances +until he was nearly seventy years old. Lecturing was hard work, but he +was under the "base necessity," as he called it, of constant labor, +writing in summer, speaking everywhere east and west in the trying and +dangerous winter season. + +He spoke in great cities to such cultivated audiences as no other man +could gather about him, and in remote villages where he addressed +plain people whose classics were the Bible and the "Farmer's Almanac." +Wherever he appeared in the lecture-room, he fascinated his listeners by +his voice and manner; the music of his speech pleased those who found +his thought too subtle for their dull wits to follow. + +When the Lecture had served its purpose, it came before the public +in the shape of an Essay. But the Essay never lost the character it +borrowed from the conditions under which it was delivered; it was a +lay sermon,--_concio ad populum_. We must always remember what we are +dealing with. "Expect nothing more of my power of construction,--no +ship-building, no clipper, smack, nor skiff even, only boards and logs +tied together."--"Here I sit and read and write, with very little +system, and, as far as regards composition, with the most fragmentary +result: paragraphs incompressible, each sentence an infinitely repellent +particle." We have then a moralist and a poet appearing as a Lecturer +and an Essayist, and now and then writing in verse. He liked the freedom +of the platform. "I preach in the Lecture-room," he says, "and there it +tells, for there is no prescription. You may laugh, weep, reason, sing, +sneer, or pray, according to your genius." In England, he says, "I find +this lecturing a key which opens all doors." But he did not tend to +overvalue the calling which from "base necessity" he followed so +diligently. "Incorrigible spouting Yankee," he calls himself; and again, +"I peddle out all the wit I can gather from Time or from Nature, and +am pained at heart to see how thankfully that little is received." +Lecture-peddling was a hard business and a poorly paid one in the +earlier part of the time when Emerson was carrying his precious wares +about the country and offering them in competition with the cheapest +itinerants, with shilling concerts and negro-minstrel entertainments. +But one could get a kind of living out of it if he had invitations +enough. I remember Emerson's coming to my house to know if I could +fill his place at a certain Lyceum so that he might accept a very +advantageous invitation in another direction. I told him that I was +unfortunately engaged for the evening mentioned. He smiled serenely, +saying that then he supposed he must give up the new stove for that +season. + +No man would accuse Emerson of parsimony of ideas. He crams his pages +with the very marrow of his thought. But in weighing out a lecture he +was as punctilious as Portia about the pound of flesh. His utterance was +deliberate and spaced with not infrequent slight delays. Exactly at the +end of the hour the lecture stopped. Suddenly, abruptly, but quietly, +without peroration of any sort, always with "a gentle shock of mild +surprise" to the unprepared listener. He had weighed out the full +measure to his audience with perfect fairness. + + [Greek: oste thalanta gunhae cheruhaetis halaethaes + Aetestathmhon hechon echousa kahi heirion hamphis hanhelkei + Ishazous ina paishin haeikhea misthon haraetai,] + +or, in Bryant's version, + + "as the scales + Are held by some just woman, who maintains + By spinning wool her household,--carefully + She poises both the wool and weights, to make + The balance even, that she may provide + A pittance for her babes."-- + +As to the charm of his lectures all are agreed. It is needless to handle +this subject, for Mr. Lowell has written upon it. Of their effect on +his younger listeners he says, "To some of us that long past experience +remains the most marvellous and fruitful we have ever had. Emerson +awakened us, saved us from the body of this death. It is the sound of +the trumpet that the young soul longs for, careless of what breath may +fill it. Sidney heard it in the ballad of 'Chevy Chase,' and we in +Emerson. Nor did it blow retreat, but called us with assurance of +victory." + +There was, besides these stirring notes, a sweet seriousness in +Emerson's voice that was infinitely soothing. So might "Peace, be +still," have sounded from the lips that silenced the storm. I remember +that in the dreadful war-time, on one of the days of anguish and terror, +I fell in with Governor Andrew, on his way to a lecture of Emerson's, +where he was going, he said, to relieve the strain upon his mind. An +hour passed in listening to that flow of thought, calm and clear as the +diamond drops that distil from a mountain rock, was a true nepenthe for +a careworn soul. + +An author whose writings are like mosaics must have borrowed from many +quarries. Emerson had read more or less thoroughly through a very wide +range of authors. I shall presently show how extensive was his reading. +No doubt he had studied certain authors diligently, a few, it would +seem, thoroughly. But let no one be frightened away from his pages by +the terrible names of Plotinus and Proclus and Porphyry, of Behmen or +Spinoza, or of those modern German philosophers with whom it is not +pretended that he had any intimate acquaintance. Mr. George Ripley, a +man of erudition, a keen critic, a lover and admirer of Emerson, speaks +very plainly of his limitations as a scholar. + +"As he confesses in the Essay on 'Books,' his learning is second hand; +but everything sticks which his mind can appropriate. He defends the use +of translations, and I doubt whether he has ever read ten pages of +his great authorities, Plato, Plutarch, Montaigne, or Goethe, in the +original. He is certainly no friend of profound study any more than +of philosophical speculation. Give him a few brilliant and suggestive +glimpses, and he is content." + +One correction I must make to this statement. Emerson says he has +"contrived to read" almost every volume of Goethe, and that he has +fifty-five of them, but that he has read nothing else in German, and has +not looked into him for a long time. This was in 1840, in a letter to +Carlyle. It was up-hill work, it may be suspected, but he could not well +be ignorant of his friend's great idol, and his references to Goethe are +very frequent. + +Emerson's quotations are like the miraculous draught of fishes. I hardly +know his rivals except Burton and Cotton Mather. But no one would accuse +him of pedantry. Burton quotes to amuse himself and his reader; Mather +quotes to show his learning, of which he had a vast conceit; Emerson +quotes to illustrate some original thought of his own, or because +another writer's way of thinking falls in with his own,--never with +a trivial purpose. Reading as he did, he must have unconsciously +appropriated a great number of thoughts from others. But he was profuse +in his references to those from whom he borrowed,--more profuse than +many of his readers would believe without taking the pains to count his +authorities. This I thought it worth while to have done, once for all, +and I will briefly present the results of the examination. The named +references, chiefly to authors, as given in the table before me, are +three thousand three hundred and ninety-three, relating to eight hundred +and sixty-eight different individuals. Of these, four hundred and eleven +are mentioned more than once; one hundred and fifty-five, five times +or more; sixty-nine, ten times or more; thirty-eight, fifteen times or +more; and twenty-seven, twenty times or more. These twenty-seven names +alone, the list of which is here given, furnish no less than one +thousand and sixty-five references. + + Authorities. Number of times mentioned. + Shakespeare.....112 + Napoleon.........84 + Plato............81 + Plutarch.........70 + Goethe...........62 + Swift............49 + Bacon............47 + Milton...........46 + Newton...........43 + Homer............42 + Socrates.........42 + Swedenborg.......40 + Montaigne........30 + Saadi............30 + Luther...........30 + Webster..........27 + Aristotle........25 + Hafiz............25 + Wordsworth.......25 + Burke............24 + Saint Paul.......24 + Dante............22 + Shattuck (Hist. of + Concord).......21 + Chaucer..........20 + Coleridge........20 + Michael Angelo...20 + The name of Jesus occurs fifty-four times. + +It is interesting to observe that Montaigne, Franklin, and Emerson all +show the same fondness for Plutarch. + +Montaigne says, "I never settled myself to the reading of any book of +solid learning but Plutarch and Seneca." + +Franklin says, speaking of the books in his father's library, "There was +among them Plutarch's Lives, which I read abundantly, and I still think +that time spent to great advantage." + +Emerson says, "I must think we are more deeply indebted to him than to +all the ancient writers." + +Studies of life and character were the delight of all these four +moralists. As a judge of character, Dr. Hedge, who knew Emerson well, +has spoken to me of his extraordinary gift, and no reader of "English +Traits" can have failed to mark the formidable penetration of the +intellect which looked through those calm cerulean eyes. + +_Noscitur a sociis_ is as applicable to the books a man most affects as +well as to the companions he chooses. It is with the kings of +thought that Emerson most associates. As to borrowing from his royal +acquaintances his ideas are very simple and expressed without reserve. + +"All minds quote. Old and new make the warp and woof of every moment. +There is no thread that is not a twist of these two strands. By +necessity, by proclivity, and by delight, we all quote." + +What Emerson says of Plutarch applies very nearly to himself. + +"In his immense quotation and allusion we quickly cease to discriminate +between what he quotes and what he invents. We sail on his memory into +the ports of every nation, enter into every private property, and do not +stop to discriminate owners, but give him the praise of all." + +Mr. Ruskin and Lord Tennyson have thought it worth their while to defend +themselves from the charge of plagiarism. Emerson would never have taken +the trouble to do such a thing. His mind was overflowing with thought as +a river in the season of flood, and was full of floating fragments from +an endless variety of sources. He drew ashore whatever he wanted that +would serve his purpose. He makes no secret of his mode of writing. "I +dot evermore in my endless journal, a line on every knowable in nature; +but the arrangement loiters long, and I get a brick-kiln instead of +a house." His journal is "full of disjointed dreams and audacities." +Writing by the aid of this, it is natural enough that he should speak of +his "lapidary style" and say "I build my house of boulders." + +"It is to be remembered," says Mr. Ruskin, "that all men who have sense +and feeling are continually helped: they are taught by every person they +meet, and enriched by everything that falls in their way. The greatest +is he who has been oftenest aided; and if the attainments of all human +minds could be traced to their real sources, it would be found that the +world had been laid most under contribution by the men of most original +powers, and that every day of their existence deepened their debt to +their race, while it enlarged their gifts to it." + +The reader may like to see a few coincidences between Emerson's words +and thoughts and those of others. + +Some sayings seem to be a kind of family property. "Scorn trifles" +comes from Aunt Mary Moody Emerson, and reappears in her nephew, Ralph +Waldo.--"What right have you, Sir, to your virtue? Is virtue piecemeal? +This is a jewel among the rags of a beggar." So writes Ralph Waldo +Emerson in his Lecture "New England Reformers."--"Hiding the badges of +royalty beneath the gown of the mendicant, and ever on the watch lest +their rank be betrayed by the sparkle of a gem from under their rags." +Thus wrote Charles Chauncy Emerson in the "Harvard Register" nearly +twenty years before. + + "The hero is not fed on sweets, + Daily his own heart he eats." + +The image comes from Pythagoras _via_ Plutarch. + +Now and then, but not with any questionable frequency, we find a +sentence which recalls Carlyle. + +"The national temper, in the civil history, is not flashy or whiffling. +The slow, deep English mass smoulders with fire, which at last sets all +its borders in flame. The wrath of London is not French wrath, but has a +long memory, and in hottest heat a register and rule." + +Compare this passage from "English Traits" with the following one from +Carlyle's "French Revolution":-- + +"So long this Gallic fire, through its successive changes of color and +character, will blaze over the face of Europe, and afflict and scorch +all men:--till it provoke all men, till it kindle another kind of fire, +the Teutonic kind, namely; and be swallowed up, so to speak, in a day! +For there is a fire comparable to the burning of dry jungle and grass; +most sudden, high-blazing: and another fire which we liken to the +burning of coal, or even of anthracite coal, but which no known thing +will put out." + + "O what are heroes, prophets, men + But pipes through which the breath of man doth blow + A momentary music." + +The reader will find a similar image in one of Burns's letters, again in +one of Coleridge's poetical fragments, and long before any of them, in a +letter of Leibnitz. + + "He builded better than he knew" + +is the most frequently quoted line of Emerson. The thought is constantly +recurring in our literature. It helps out the minister's sermon; and a +Fourth of July Oration which does not borrow it is like the "Address +without a Phoenix" among the Drury Lane mock poems. Can we find any +trace of this idea elsewhere? + +In a little poem of Coleridge's, "William Tell," are these two lines: + + "On wind and wave the boy would toss + Was great, nor knew how great he was." + +The thought is fully worked out in the celebrated Essay of Carlyle +called "Characteristics." It reappears in Emerson's poem "Fate." + + "Unknown to Cromwell as to me + Was Cromwell's measure and degree; + Unknown to him as to his horse, + If he than his groom is better or worse." + +It is unnecessary to illustrate this point any further in this +connection. In dealing with his poetry other resemblances will suggest +themselves. All the best poetry the world has known is full of such +resemblances. If we find Emerson's wonderful picture, "Initial Love" +prefigured in the "Symposium" of Plato, we have only to look in the +"Phaedrus" and we we shall find an earlier sketch of Shakespeare's +famous group,-- + + "The lunatic, the lover, and the poet." + +Sometimes these resemblances are nothing more than accidental +coincidences; sometimes the similar passages are unconsciously borrowed +from another; sometimes they are paraphrases, variations, embellished +copies, _éditions de luxe_ of sayings that all the world knows are old, +but which it seems to the writer worth his while to say over again. +The more improved versions of the world's great thoughts we have, the +better, and we look to the great minds for them. The larger the river +the more streams flow into it. The wide flood of Emerson's discourse has +a hundred rivers and thousands of streamlets for its tributaries. + +It was not from books only that he gathered food for thought and for his +lectures and essays. He was always on the lookout in conversation for +things to be remembered. He picked up facts one would not have expected +him to care for. He once corrected me in giving Flora Temple's time at +Kalamazoo. I made a mistake of a quarter of a second, and he set me +right. He was not always so exact in his memory, as I have already shown +in several instances. Another example is where he speaks of Quintus +Curtius, the historian, when he is thinking of Mettus Curtius, the +self-sacrificing equestrian. Little inaccuracies of this kind did not +concern him much; he was a wholesale dealer in illustrations, and could +not trouble himself about a trifling defect in this or that particular +article. + +Emerson was a man who influenced others more than others influenced him. +Outside of his family connections, the personalities which can be most +easily traced in his own are those of Carlyle, Mr. Alcott, and Thoreau. +Carlyle's harsh virility could not be without its effect on his +valid, but sensitive nature. Alcott's psychological and physiological +speculations interested him as an idealist. Thoreau lent him a new set +of organs of sense of wonderful delicacy. Emerson looked at nature as a +poet, and his natural history, if left to himself, would have been as +vague as that of Polonius. But Thoreau had a pair of eyes which, like +those of the Indian deity, could see the smallest emmet on the blackest +stone in the darkest night,--or come nearer to seeing it than those of +most mortals. Emerson's long intimacy with him taught him to give an +outline to many natural objects which would have been poetic nebulae to +him but for this companionship. A nicer analysis would detect many +alien elements mixed with his individuality, but the family traits +predominated over all the external influences, and the personality stood +out distinct from the common family qualities. Mr. Whipple has well +said: "Some traits of his mind and character may be traced back to his +ancestors, but what doctrine of heredity can give us the genesis of his +genius? Indeed the safest course to pursue is to quote his own words, +and despairingly confess that it is the nature of genius 'to spring, +like the rainbow daughter of Wonder, from the invisible, to abolish the +past and refuse all history.'" + + * * * * * + +Emerson's place as a thinker is somewhat difficult to fix. He cannot +properly be called a psychologist. He made notes and even delivered +lectures on the natural history of the intellect; but they seem to have +been made up, according to his own statement, of hints and fragments +rather than of the results of systematic study. He was a man of +intuition, of insight, a seer, a poet, with a tendency to mysticism. +This tendency renders him sometimes obscure, and once in a while almost, +if not quite, unintelligible. We can, for this reason, understand why +the great lawyer turned him over to his daughters, and Dr. Walter +Channing complained that his lecture made his head ache. But it is not +always a writer's fault that he is not understood. Many persons have +poor heads for abstractions; and as for mystics, if they understand +themselves it is quite as much as can be expected. But that which is +mysticism to a dull listener may be the highest and most inspiring +imaginative clairvoyance to a brighter one. It is to be hoped that no +reader will take offence at the following anecdote, which may be found +under the title "Diogenes," in the work of his namesake, Diogenes +Laertius. I translate from the Latin version. + +"Plato was talking about ideas, and spoke of _mensality_ and _cyathity_ +[_tableity_, and _gobletity_]. 'I can see a table and a goblet,' said +the cynic, 'but I can see no such things as tableity and gobletity.' +'Quite so,' answered Plato, 'because you have the eyes to see a goblet +and a table with, but you have not the brains to understand tableity and +gobletity.'" + +This anecdote may be profitably borne in mind in following Emerson into +the spheres of intuition and mystical contemplation. + +Emerson was an idealist in the Platonic sense of the word, a +spiritualist as opposed to a materialist. He believes, he says, "as +the wise Spenser teaches," that the soul makes its own body. This, of +course, involves the doctrine of preexistence; a doctrine older than +Spenser, older than Plato or Pythagoras, having its cradle in India, +fighting its way down through Greek philosophers and Christian fathers +and German professors, to our own time, when it has found Pierre Leroux, +Edward Beecher, and Brigham Young among its numerous advocates. Each has +his fancies on the subject. The geography of an undiscovered country and +the soundings of an ocean that has never been sailed over may belong to +romance and poetry, but they do not belong to the realm of knowledge. + +That the organ of the mind brings with it inherited aptitudes is a +simple matter of observation. That it inherits truths is a different +proposition. The eye does not bring landscapes into the world on its +retina,--why should the brain bring thoughts? Poetry settles such +questions very simply by saying it is so. + +The poet in Emerson never accurately differentiated itself from the +philosopher. He speaks of Wordsworth's Ode on the Intimations of +Immortality as the high-water mark of the poetry of this century. It +sometimes seems as if he had accepted the lofty rhapsodies of this noble +Ode as working truths. + + "Not in entire forgetfulness, + And not in utter nakedness, + But trailing clouds of glory do we come + From God, who is our home." + +In accordance with this statement of a divine inheritance from a +preexisting state, the poet addresses the infant:-- + + "Mighty prophet! Seer blest! + On whom those truths do rest + Which we are toiling all our lives to find."-- + +These are beautiful fancies, but the philosopher will naturally ask the +poet what are the truths which the child has lost between its cradle and +the age of eight years, at which Wordsworth finds the little girl of + whom he speaks in the lines,-- + + "A simple child-- + That lightly draws its breath + And feels its life in every limb,-- + What should it know of death?" + +What should it, sure enough, or of any other of those great truths which +Time with its lessons, and the hardening of the pulpy brain can alone +render appreciable to the consciousness? Undoubtedly every brain has its +own set of moulds ready to shape all material of thought into its own +individual set of patterns. If the mind comes into consciousness with a +good set of moulds derived by "traduction," as Dryden called it, from a +good ancestry, it may be all very well to give the counsel to the youth +to plant himself on his instincts. But the individual to whom this +counsel is given probably has dangerous as well as wholesome instincts. +He has also a great deal besides the instincts to be considered. His +instincts are mixed up with innumerable acquired prejudices, erroneous +conclusions, deceptive experiences, partial truths, one-sided +tendencies. The clearest insight will often find it hard to decide what +is the real instinct, and whether the instinct itself is, in theological +language, from God or the devil. That which was a safe guide for Emerson +might not work well with Lacenaire or Jesse Pomeroy. The cloud of glory +which the babe brings with it into the world is a good set of instincts, +which dispose it to accept moral and intellectual truths,--not the +truths themselves. And too many children come into life trailing after +them clouds which are anything but clouds of glory. + +It may well be imagined that when Emerson proclaimed the new +doctrine,--new to his young disciples,--of planting themselves on their +instincts, consulting their own spiritual light for guidance,--trusting +to intuition,--without reference to any other authority, he opened the +door to extravagances in any unbalanced minds, if such there were, which +listened to his teachings. Too much was expected out of the mouths of +babes and sucklings. The children shut up by Psammetichus got as far as +one word in their evolution of an original language, but _bekkos_ was a +very small contribution towards a complete vocabulary. "The Dial" +was well charged with intuitions, but there was too much vagueness, +incoherence, aspiration without energy, effort without inspiration, to +satisfy those who were looking for a new revelation. + +The gospel of intuition proved to be practically nothing more or less +than this: a new manifesto of intellectual and spiritual independence. +It was no great discovery that we see many things as truths which we +cannot prove. But it was a great impulse to thought, a great advance +in the attitude of our thinking community, when the profoundly devout +religious free-thinker took the ground of the undevout and irreligious +free-thinker, and calmly asserted and peaceably established the right +and the duty of the individual to weigh the universe, its laws and its +legends, in his own balance, without fear of authority, or names, or +institutions. + +All this brought its dangers with it, like other movements of +emancipation. For the Fay _ce que voudras_ of the revellers of Medmenham +Abbey, was substituted the new motto, Pense _ce que voudras_. There was +an intoxication in this newly proclaimed evangel which took hold of some +susceptible natures and betrayed itself in prose and rhyme, occasionally +of the Bedlam sort. Emerson's disciples were never accused of falling +into the more perilous snares of antinomianism, but he himself +distinctly recognizes the danger of it, and the counterbalancing +effect of household life, with its curtain lectures and other benign +influences. Extravagances of opinion cure themselves. Time wore off the +effects of the harmless debauch, and restored the giddy revellers to the +regimen of sober thought, as reformed spiritual inebriates. + +Such were some of the incidental effects of the Emersonian declaration +of independence. It was followed by a revolutionary war of opinion not +yet ended or at present like to be. A local outbreak, if you will, but +so was throwing the tea overboard. A provincial affair, if the Bohemian +press likes that term better, but so was the skirmish where the gun was +fired the echo of which is heard in every battle for freedom all over +the world. + + * * * * * + +Too much has been made of Emerson's mysticism. He was an intellectual +rather than an emotional mystic, and withal a cautious one. He never let +go the string of his balloon. He never threw over all his ballast of +common sense so as to rise above an atmosphere in which a rational being +could breathe. I found in his library William Law's edition of Jacob +Behmen. There were all those wonderful diagrams over which the reader +may have grown dizzy,--just such as one finds on the walls of lunatic +asylums,--evidences to all sane minds of cerebral strabismus in the +contrivers of them. Emerson liked to lose himself for a little while in +the vagaries of this class of minds, the dangerous proximity of which to +insanity he knew and has spoken of. He played with the incommunicable, +the inconceivable, the absolute, the antinomies, as he would have played +with a bundle of jack-straws. "Brahma," the poem which so mystified +the readers of the "Atlantic Monthly," was one of his spiritual +divertisements. To the average Western mind it is the nearest approach +to a Torricellian vacuum of intelligibility that language can pump out +of itself. If "Rejected Addresses" had not been written half a century +before Emerson's poem, one would think these lines were certainly meant +to ridicule and parody it. + + "The song of Braham is an Irish howl; + Thinking is but an idle waste of thought, + And nought is everything and everything is nought." + +Braham, Hazlitt might have said, is so obviously the anagram of Brahma +that dulness itself could not mistake the object intended. + +Of course no one can hold Emerson responsible for the "Yoga" doctrine +of Brahmanism, which he has amused himself with putting in verse. The +oriental side of Emerson's nature delighted itself in these narcotic +dreams, born in the land of the poppy and of hashish. They lend a +peculiar charm to his poems, but it is not worth while to try to +construct a philosophy out of them. The knowledge, if knowledge it be, +of the mystic is not transmissible. It is not cumulative; it begins and +ends with the solitary dreamer, and the next who follows him has to +build his own cloud-castle as if it were the first aerial edifice that a +human soul had ever constructed. + +Some passages of "Nature," "The Over-Soul," "The Sphinx," "Uriel," +illustrate sufficiently this mood of spiritual exaltation. Emerson's +calm temperament never allowed it to reach the condition he sometimes +refers to,--that of ecstasy. The passage in "Nature" where he says "I +become a transparent eyeball" is about as near it as he ever came. This +was almost too much for some of his admirers and worshippers. One of his +most ardent and faithful followers, whose gifts as an artist are well +known, mounted the eyeball on legs, and with its cornea in front for +a countenance and its optic nerve projecting behind as a queue, the +spiritual cyclops was shown setting forth on his travels. + +Emerson's reflections in the "transcendental" mood do beyond question +sometimes irresistibly suggest the close neighborhood of the sublime to +the ridiculous. But very near that precipitous border line there is a +charmed region where, if the statelier growths of philosophy die out and +disappear, the flowers of poetry next the very edge of the chasm have +a peculiar and mysterious beauty. "Uriel" is a poem which finds itself +perilously near to the gulf of unsounded obscurity, and has, I doubt +not, provoked the mirth of profane readers; but read in a lucid moment, +it is just obscure enough and just significant enough to give the +voltaic thrill which comes from the sudden contacts of the highest +imaginative conceptions. + +Human personality presented itself to Emerson as a passing phase of +universal being. Born of the Infinite, to the Infinite it was to return. +Sometimes he treats his own personality as interchangeable with objects +in nature,--he would put it off like a garment and clothe himself in the +landscape. Here is a curious extract from "The Adirondacs," in which the +reader need not stop to notice the parallelism with Byron's-- + + "The sky is changed,--and such a change! O night + And storm and darkness, ye are wondrous strong."-- + +Now Emerson:-- + + "And presently the sky is changed; O world! + What pictures and what harmonies are thine! + The clouds are rich and dark, the air serene, + _So like the soul of me, what if't were me_?" + +We find this idea of confused personal identity also in a brief poem +printed among the "Translations" in the Appendix to Emerson's Poems. +These are the last two lines of "The Flute, from Hilali":-- + + "Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains, + If I am I; thou, thou, or thou art I?" + +The same transfer of personality is hinted in the line of Shelley's "Ode +to the West Wind": + + "Be thou, Spirit fierce, + My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!" + +Once more, how fearfully near the abyss of the ridiculous! A few drops +of alcohol bring about a confusion of mind not unlike this poetical +metempsychosis. + +The laird of Balnamoon had been at a dinner where they gave him +cherry-brandy instead of port wine. In driving home over a wild tract of +land called Munrimmon Moor his hat and wig blew off, and his servant got +out of the gig and brought them to him. The hat he recognized, but not +the wig. "It's no my wig, Hairy [Harry], lad; it's no my wig," and he +would not touch it. At last Harry lost his patience: "Ye'd better tak' +it, sir, for there's nae waile [choice] o' wigs on Munrimmon Moor." +And in our earlier days we used to read of the bewildered market-woman, +whose _Ego_ was so obscured when she awoke from her slumbers that she +had to leave the question of her personal identity to the instinct of +her four-footed companion:-- + + "If it be I, he'll wag his little tail; + And if it be not I, he'll loudly bark and wail." + +I have not lost my reverence for Emerson in showing one of his fancies +for a moment in the distorting mirror of the ridiculous. He would +doubtless have smiled with me at the reflection, for he had a keen sense +of humor. But I take the opportunity to disclaim a jesting remark about +"a foresmell of the Infinite" which Mr. Conway has attributed to me, who +am innocent of all connection with it. + +The mystic appeals to those only who have an ear for the celestial +concords, as the musician only appeals to those who have the special +endowment which enables them to understand his compositions. It is +not for organizations untuned to earthly music to criticise the great +composers, or for those who are deaf to spiritual harmonies to criticise +the higher natures which lose themselves in the strains of divine +contemplation. The bewildered reader must not forget that passage of +arms, previously mentioned, between Plato and Diogenes. + + * * * * * + +Emerson looked rather askance at Science in his early days. I remember +that his brother Charles had something to say in the "Harvard Register" +(1828) about its disenchantments. I suspect the prejudice may have come +partly from Wordsworth. Compare this verse of his with the lines of +Emerson's which follow it. + + "Physician art thou, one all eyes; + Philosopher, a fingering slave, + One that would peep and botanize + Upon his mother's grave?" + +Emerson's lines are to be found near the end of the Appendix in the new +edition of his works. + + "Philosophers are lined with eyes within, + And, being so, the sage unmakes the man. + In love he cannot therefore cease his trade; + Scarce the first blush has overspread his cheek, + He feels it, introverts his learned eye + To catch the unconscious heart in the very act. + His mother died,--the only friend he had,-- + Some tears escaped, but his philosophy + Couched like a cat, sat watching close behind + And throttled all his passion. Is't not like + That devil-spider that devours her mate + Scarce freed from her embraces?" + +The same feeling comes out in the Poem "Blight," where he says the +"young scholars who invade our hills" + + "Love not the flower they pluck, and know it not, + And all their botany is Latin names;" + +and in "The Walk," where the "learned men" with their glasses are +contrasted with the sons of Nature,--the poets are no doubt meant,--much +to the disadvantage of the microscopic observers. Emerson's mind +was very far from being of the scientific pattern. Science is +quantitative,--loves the foot-rule and the balance,--methodical, +exhaustive, indifferent to the beautiful as such. The poet is curious, +asks all manner of questions, and never thinks of waiting for the +answer, still less of torturing Nature to get at it. Emerson wonders, +for instance,-- + + "Why Nature loves the number five," + +but leaves his note of interrogation without troubling himself any +farther. He must have picked up some wood-craft and a little botany +from Thoreau, and a few chemical notions from his brother-in-law, Dr. +Jackson, whose name is associated with the discovery of artificial +anaesthesia. It seems probable that the genial companionship of Agassiz, +who united with his scientific genius, learning, and renown, most +delightful social qualities, gave him a kinder feeling to men of science +and their pursuits than he had entertained before that great master came +among us. At any rate he avails himself of the facts drawn from their +specialties without scruple when they will serve his turn. But he loves +the poet always better than the scientific student of nature. In his +Preface to the Poems of Mr. W.E. Channing, he says:-- + +"Here is a naturalist who sees the flower and the bud with a poet's +curiosity and awe, and does not count the stamens in the aster, nor the +feathers in the wood-thrush, but rests in the surprise and affection +they awake."-- + +This was Emerson's own instinctive attitude to all the phenomena of +nature. + +Emerson's style is epigrammatic, incisive, authoritative, sometimes +quaint, never obscure, except when he is handling nebulous subjects. +His paragraphs are full of brittle sentences that break apart and are +independent units, like the fragments of a coral colony. His imagery is +frequently daring, leaping from the concrete to the abstract, from the +special to the general and universal, and _vice versa_, with a bound +that is like a flight. Here are a few specimens of his pleasing +_audacities_:-- + +"There is plenty of wild azote and carbon unappropriated, but it is +naught till we have made it up into loaves and soup."-- + +"He arrives at the sea-shore and a sumptuous ship has floored and +carpeted for him the stormy Atlantic."-- + +"If we weave a yard of tape in all humility and as well as we can, long +hereafter we shall see it was no cotton tape at all but some galaxy +which we braided, and that the threads were Time and Nature."-- + +"Tapping the tempest for a little side wind."-- + +"The locomotive and the steamboat, like enormous shuttles, shoot +every day across the thousand various threads of national descent and +employment and bind them fast in one web."-- + +He is fond of certain archaisms and unusual phrases. He likes +the expression "mother-wit," which he finds in Spenser, Marlowe, +Shakespeare, and other old writers. He often uses the word "husband" +in its earlier sense of economist. His use of the word "haughty" is so +fitting, and it sounds so nobly from his lips, that we could wish its +employment were forbidden henceforth to voices which vulgarize it. But +his special, constitutional, word is "fine," meaning something like +dainty, as Shakespeare uses it,--"my dainty Ariel,"--"fine Ariel." It +belongs to his habit of mind and body as "faint" and "swoon" belong to +Keats. This word is one of the ear-marks by which Emerson's imitators +are easily recognized. "Melioration" is another favorite word of +Emerson's. A clairvoyant could spell out some of his most characteristic +traits by the aid of his use of these three words; his inborn +fastidiousness, subdued and kept out of sight by his large charity and +his good breeding, showed itself in his liking for the word "haughty;" +his exquisite delicacy by his fondness for the word "fine," with a +certain shade of meaning; his optimism in the frequent recurrence of the +word "melioration." + +We must not find fault with his semi-detached sentences until we quarrel +with Solomon and criticise the Sermon on the Mount. The "point and +surprise" which he speaks of as characterizing the style of Plutarch +belong eminently to his own. His fertility of illustrative imagery is +very great. His images are noble, or, if borrowed from humble objects, +ennobled by his handling. He throws his royal robe over a milking-stool +and it becomes a throne. But chiefly he chooses objects of comparison +grand in themselves. He deals with the elements at first hand. Such +delicacy of treatment, with such breadth and force of effect, is hard to +match anywhere, and we know him by his style at sight. It is as when the +slight fingers of a girl touch the keys of some mighty and many-voiced +organ, and send its thunders rolling along the aisles and startling +the stained windows of a great cathedral. We have seen him as an +unpretending lecturer. We follow him round as he "peddles out all the +wit he can gather from Time or from Nature," and we find that "he has +changed his market cart into a chariot of the sun," and is carrying +about the morning light as merchandise. + + * * * * * + +Emerson was as loyal an American, as thorough a New Englander, as +home-loving a citizen, as ever lived. He arraigned his countrymen +sharply for their faults. Mr. Arnold made one string of his epithets +familiar to all of us,--"This great, intelligent, sensual, and +avaricious America." This was from a private letter to Carlyle. In his +Essay, "Works and Days," he is quite as outspoken: "This mendicant +America, this curious, peering, itinerant, imitative America." "I +see plainly," he says, "that our society is as bigoted to the +respectabilities of religion and education as yours." "The war," he +says, "gave back integrity to this erring and immoral nation." All his +life long he recognized the faults and errors of the new civilization. +All his life long he labored diligently and lovingly to correct them. +To the dark prophecies of Carlyle, which came wailing to him across the +ocean, he answered with ever hopeful and cheerful anticipations. "Here," +he said, in words I have already borrowed, "is the home of man--here is +the promise of a new and more excellent social state than history has +recorded." + +Such a man as Emerson belongs to no one town or province or continent; +he is the common property of mankind; and yet we love to think of him +as breathing the same air and treading the same soil that we and our +fathers and our children have breathed and trodden. So it pleases us +to think how fondly he remembered his birthplace; and by the side of +Franklin's bequest to his native city we treasure that golden verse of +Emerson's:-- + + "A blessing through the ages thus + Shield all thy roofs and towers, + GOD WITH THE FATHERS, SO WITH US, + Thou darling town of ours!" + +Emerson sympathized with all generous public movements, but he was not +fond of working in associations, though he liked well enough to attend +their meetings as a listener and looker-on. His study was his workshop, +and he preferred to labor in solitude. When he became famous he paid the +penalty of celebrity in frequent interruptions by those "devastators of +the day" who sought him in his quiet retreat. His courtesy and kindness +to his visitors were uniform and remarkable. Poets who come to recite +their verses and reformers who come to explain their projects are +among the most formidable of earthly visitations. Emerson accepted +his martyrdom with meek submission; it was a martyrdom in detail, but +collectively its petty tortures might have satisfied a reasonable +inquisitor as the punishment of a moderate heresy. Except in that one +phrase above quoted he never complained of his social oppressors, so far +as I remember, in his writings. His perfect amiability was one of his +most striking characteristics, and in a nature fastidious as was his in +its whole organization, it implied a self-command worthy of admiration. + + * * * * * + +The natural purity and elevation of Emerson's character show themselves +in all that he writes. His life corresponded to the ideal we form of him +from his writings. This it was which made him invulnerable amidst all +the fierce conflicts his gentle words excited. His white shield was so +spotless that the least scrupulous combatants did not like to leave +their defacing marks upon it. One would think he was protected by some +superstition like that which Voltaire refers to as existing about +Boileau,-- + + "Ne disons pas mal de Nicolas,--cela porte malheur." + +(Don't let us abuse Nicolas,--it brings ill luck.) The cooped-up +dogmatists whose very citadel of belief he was attacking, and who had +their hot water and boiling pitch and flaming brimstone ready for the +assailants of their outer defences, withheld their missiles from him, +and even sometimes, in a movement of involuntary human sympathy, +sprinkled him with rose-water. His position in our Puritan New England +was in some respects like that of Burns in Presbyterian Scotland. The +_dour_ Scotch ministers and elders could not cage their minstrel, and +they could not clip his wings; and so they let this morning lark rise +above their theological mists, and sing to them at heaven's gate, until +he had softened all their hearts and might nestle in their bosoms and +find his perch on "the big ha' bible," if he would,--and as he did. So +did the music of Emerson's words and life steal into the hearts of our +stern New England theologians, and soften them to a temper which would +have seemed treasonable weakness to their stiff-kneed forefathers. When +a man lives a life commended by all the Christian virtues, enlightened +persons are not so apt to cavil at his particular beliefs or unbeliefs +as in former generations. We do, however, wish to know what are the +convictions of any such persons in matters of highest interest about +which there is so much honest difference of opinion in this age of deep +and anxious and devout religious scepticism. + +It was a very wise and a very prudent course which was taken by +Simonides, when he was asked by his imperial master to give him his +ideas about the Deity. He begged for a day to consider the question, but +when the time came for his answer he wanted two days more, and at the +end of these, four days. In short, the more he thought about it, the +more he found himself perplexed. + +The name most frequently applied to Emerson's form of belief is +Pantheism. How many persons who shudder at the sound of this word can +tell the difference between that doctrine and their own professed belief +in the omnipresence of the Deity? + +Theodore Parker explained Emerson's position, as he understood it, in an +article in the "Massachusetts Quarterly Review." I borrow this quotation +from Mr. Cooke:-- + +"He has an absolute confidence in God. He has been foolishly accused of +Pantheism, which sinks God in nature, but no man Is further from it. +He never sinks God in man; he does not stop with the law, in matter or +morals, but goes to the Law-giver; yet probably it would not be so easy +for him to give his definition of God, as it would be for most graduates +at Andover or Cambridge." + +We read in his Essay, "Self-Reliance ": "This is the ultimate fact which +we so quickly reach on this, as on every topic, the resolution of all +into the ever-blessed ONE. Self-existence is the attribute of the +Supreme Cause, and it constitutes the measure of good by the degree in +which it enters into all lower forms." + +The "ever-blessed ONE" of Emerson corresponds to the Father in the +doctrine of the Trinity. The "Over-Soul" of Emerson is that aspect of +Deity which is known to theology as the Holy Spirit. Jesus was for him a +divine manifestation, but only as other great human souls have been in +all ages and are to-day. He was willing to be called a Christian just as +he was willing to be called a Platonist. + +Explanations are apt not to explain much in dealing with subjects like +this. "Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the +Almighty unto perfection?" But on certain great points nothing could be +clearer than the teaching of Emerson. He believed in the doctrine of +spiritual influx as sincerely as any Calvinist or Swedenborgian. His +views as to fate, or the determining conditions of the character, +brought him near enough to the doctrine of predestination to make him +afraid of its consequences, and led him to enter a caveat against any +denial of the self-governing power of the will. + +His creed was a brief one, but he carried it everywhere with him. In all +he did, in all he said, and so far as all outward signs could show, in +all his thoughts, the indwelling Spirit was his light and guide; through +all nature he looked up to nature's God; and if he did not worship the +"man Christ Jesus" as the churches of Christendom have done, he followed +his footsteps so nearly that our good Methodist, Father Taylor, spoke of +him as more like Christ than any man he had known. + +Emerson was in friendly relations with many clergymen of the church +from which he had parted. Since he left the pulpit, the lesson, not +of tolerance, for that word is an insult as applied by one set of +well-behaved people to another, not of charity, for that implies an +impertinent assumption, but of good feeling on the part of divergent +sects and their ministers has been taught and learned as never before. +Their official Confessions of Faith make far less difference in their +human sentiments and relations than they did even half a century ago. +These ancient creeds are handed along down, to be kept in their phials +with their stoppers fast, as attar of rose is kept in its little +bottles; they are not to be opened and exposed to the atmosphere so long +as their perfume,--the odor of sanctity,--is diffused from the carefully +treasured receptacles,--perhaps even longer than that. + +Out of the endless opinions as to the significance and final outcome of +Emerson's religious teachings I will select two as typical. + +Dr. William Hague, long the honored minister of a Baptist church in +Boston, where I had the pleasure of friendly acquaintance with him, has +written a thoughtful, amiable paper on Emerson, which he read before the +New York Genealogical and Biographical Society. This Essay closes with +the following sentence:-- + +"Thus, to-day, while musing, as at the beginning, over the works of +Ralph Waldo Emerson, we recognize now as ever his imperial genius as one +of the greatest of writers; at the same time, his life work, as a whole, +tested by its supreme ideal, its method and its fruitage, shows also a +great waste of power, verifying the saying of Jesus touching the harvest +of human life: 'HE THAT GATHERETH NOT WITH ME SCATTERETH ABROAD.'" + +"But when Dean Stanley returned from America, it was to report," says +Mr. Conway "('Macmillan,' June, 1879), that religion had there passed +through an evolution from Edwards to Emerson, and that 'the genial +atmosphere which Emerson has done so much to promote is shared by all +the churches equally.'" + +What is this "genial atmosphere" but the very spirit of Christianity? +The good Baptist minister's Essay is full of it. He comes asking what +has become of Emerson's "wasted power" and lamenting his lack of +"fruitage," and lo! he himself has so ripened and mellowed in that same +Emersonian air that the tree to which he belongs would hardly know him. +The close-communion clergyman handles the arch-heretic as tenderly as if +he were the nursing mother of a new infant Messiah. A few generations +ago this preacher of a new gospel would have been burned; a little later +he would been tried and imprisoned; less than fifty years ago he was +called infidel and atheist; names which are fast becoming relinquished +to the intellectual half-breeds who sometimes find their way into +pulpits and the so-called religious periodicals. + +It is not within our best-fenced churches and creeds that the +self-governing American is like to find the religious freedom which the +Concord prophet asserted with the strength of Luther and the sweetness +of Melancthon, and which the sovereign in his shirt-sleeves will surely +claim. Milton was only the precursor of Emerson when he wrote:-- + +"Neither is God appointed and confined, where and out of what place +these his chosen shall be first heard to speak; for he sees not as man +sees, chooses not as man chooses, lest we should devote ourselves again +to set places and assemblies, and outward callings of men, planting our +faith one while in the old convocation house, and another while in the +Chapel at Westminster, when all the faith and religion that shall be +there canonized is not sufficient without plain convincement, and +the charity of patient instruction, to supple the least bruise of +conscience, to edify the meanest Christian who desires to walk in the +spirit and not in the letter of human trust, for all the number of +voices that can be there made; no, though Harry the Seventh himself +there, with all his liege tombs about him, should lend their voices from +the dead, to swell their number." + +The best evidence of the effect produced by Emerson's writings and life +is to be found in the attention he has received from biographers and +critics. The ground upon which I have ventured was already occupied by +three considerable Memoirs. Mr. George Willis Cooke's elaborate work is +remarkable for its careful and thorough analysis of Emerson's teachings. +Mr. Moncure Daniel Conway's "Emerson at Home and Abroad" is a lively +picture of its subject by one long and well acquainted with him. Mr. +Alexander Ireland's "Biographical Sketch" brings together, from a great +variety of sources, as well as from his own recollections, the facts of +Emerson's history and the comments of those whose opinions were best +worth reproducing. I must refer to this volume for a bibliography of the +various works and Essays of which Emerson furnished the subject. + +From the days when Mr. Whipple attracted the attention of our +intelligent, but unawakened reading community, by his discriminating and +appreciative criticisms of Emerson's Lectures, and Mr. Lowell drew the +portrait of the New England "Plotinus-Montaigne" in his brilliant "Fable +for Critics," to the recent essays of Mr. Matthew Arnold, Mr. John +Morley, Mr. Henry Norman, and Mr. Edmund Clarence Stedman, Emerson's +writings have furnished one of the most enduring _pièces de résistance_ +at the critical tables of the old and the new world. + +He early won the admiration of distinguished European thinkers and +writers: Carlyle accepted his friendship and his disinterested services; +Miss Martineau fully recognized his genius and sounded his praises; Miss +Bremer fixed her sharp eyes on him and pronounced him "a noble man." +Professor Tyndall found the inspiration of his life in Emerson's +fresh thought; and Mr. Arnold, who clipped his medals reverently but +unsparingly, confessed them to be of pure gold, even while he questioned +whether they would pass current with posterity. He found discerning +critics in France, Germany, and Holland. Better than all is the +testimony of those who knew him best. They who repeat the saying that +"a prophet is not without honor save in his own country," will find an +exception to its truth in the case of Emerson. Read the impressive words +spoken at his funeral by his fellow-townsman, Judge Hoar; read the +glowing tributes of three of Concord's poets,--Mr. Alcott, Mr. Channing, +and Mr. Sanborn,--and it will appear plainly enough that he, whose fame +had gone out into all the earth, was most of all believed in, honored, +beloved, lamented, in the little village circle that centred about his +own fireside. + +It is a not uninteresting question whether Emerson has bequeathed to the +language any essay or poem which will resist the flow of time like "the +adamant of Shakespeare," and remain a classic like the Essays of Addison +or Gray's Elegy. It is a far more important question whether his thought +entered into the spirit of his day and generation, so that it modified +the higher intellectual, moral, and religious life of his time, and, as +a necessary consequence, those of succeeding ages. _Corpora non agunt +nisi soluta_, and ideas must be dissolved and taken up as well as +material substances before they can act. "That which thou sowest is not +quickened except it die," or rather lose the form with which it was +sown. Eight stanzas of four lines each have made the author of "The +Burial of Sir John Moore" an immortal, and endowed the language with a +classic, perfect as the most finished cameo. But what is the gift of a +mourning ring to the bequest of a perpetual annuity? How many lives +have melted into the history of their time, as the gold was lost +in Corinthian brass, leaving no separate monumental trace of their +influence, but adding weight and color and worth to the age of which +they formed a part and the generations that came after them! We can dare +to predict of Emerson, in the words of his old friend and disciple, Mr. +Cranch:-- + + "The wise will know thee and the good will love, + The age to come will feel thy impress given + In all that lifts the race a step above + Itself, and stamps it with the seal of heaven." + +It seems to us, to-day, that Emerson's best literary work in prose and +verse must live as long as the language lasts; but whether it live or +fade from memory, the influence of his great and noble life and +the spoken and written words which were its exponents, blends, +indestructible, with the enduring elements of civilization. + + * * * * * + +It is not irreverent, but eminently fitting, to compare any singularly +pure and virtuous life with that of the great exemplar in whose +footsteps Christendom professes to follow. The time was when the divine +authority of his gospel rested chiefly upon the miracles he is reported +to have wrought. As the faith in these exceptions to the general laws +of the universe diminished, the teachings of the Master, of whom it was +said that he spoke as never man spoke, were more largely relied upon +as evidence of his divine mission. Now, when a comparison of these +teachings with those of other religious leaders is thought by many to +have somewhat lessened the force of this argument, the life of the +sinless and self-devoted servant of God and friend of man is appealed to +as the last and convincing proof that he was an immediate manifestation +of the Divinity. + +Judged by his life Emerson comes very near our best ideal of humanity. +He was born too late for the trial of the cross or the stake, or even +the jail. But the penalty of having an opinion of his own and expressing +it was a serious one, and he accepted it as cheerfully as any of Queen +Mary's martyrs accepted his fiery baptism. His faith was too large and +too deep for the formulae he found built into the pulpit, and he was too +honest to cover up his doubts under the flowing vestments of a sacred +calling. His writings, whether in prose or verse, are worthy of +admiration, but his manhood was the underlying quality which gave them +their true value. It was in virtue of this that his rare genius acted on +so many minds as a trumpet call to awaken them to the meaning and the +privileges of this earthly existence with all its infinite promise. +No matter of what he wrote or spoke, his words, his tones, his looks, +carried the evidence of a sincerity which pervaded them all and was to +his eloquence and poetry like the water of crystallization; without +which they would effloresce into mere rhetoric. He shaped an ideal for +the commonest life, he proposed an object to the humblest seeker after +truth. Look for beauty in the world around you, he said, and you shall +see it everywhere. Look within, with pure eyes and simple trust, and you +shall find the Deity mirrored in your own soul. Trust yourself because +you trust the voice of God in your inmost consciousness. + +There are living organisms so transparent that we can see their hearts +beating and their blood flowing through their glassy tissues. So +transparent was the life of Emerson; so clearly did the true nature of +the man show through it. What he taught others to be, he was himself. +His deep and sweet humanity won him love and reverence everywhere +among those whose natures were capable of responding to the highest +manifestations of character. Here and there a narrow-eyed sectary may +have avoided or spoken ill of him; but if He who knew what was in man +had wandered from door to door in New England as of old in Palestine, we +can well believe that one of the thresholds which "those blessed feet" +would have crossed, to hallow and receive its welcome, would have been +that of the lovely and quiet home of Emerson. + + + + +INDEX. + +[For many references, not found elsewhere, see under the general +headings of _Emerson's Books, Essays, Poems_.] + + + Abbott, Josiah Gardiner, a pupil of Emerson, 49, 50. + + Academic Races, 2, 3. (See _Heredity_.) + + Action, subordinate, 112. + + Adams, John, old age, 261. + + Adams, Samuel, Harvard debate, 115. + + Addison, Joseph, classic, 416. + + Advertiser, The, Emerson's interest in, 348. + + Aeolian Harp, his model, 329, 340. + (See _Emerson's Poems_,--Harp.) + + Aeschylus, tragedies, 253. (See _Greek_.) + + Agassiz, Louis: + Saturday Club, 222; + companionship, 403. + + Agriculture: + in Anthology, 30; + attacked, 190; + not Emerson's field, 255, 256, 365. + + Akenside, Mark, allusion, 16. + + Alchemy, adepts, 260, 261. + + Alcott, A. Bronson: + hearing Emerson, 66; + speculations, 86; + an idealist, 150; + The Dial, 159; + sonnet, 355; + quoted, 373; + personality traceable, 389. + + Alcott, Louisa M., funeral bouquet, 351. + + Alexander the Great: + allusion, 184; + mountain likeness, 322. + + Alfred the Great, 220, 306. + + Allston, Washington, unfinished picture, 334. + (See _Pictures_.) + + Ambition, treated in Anthology, 30. + + America: + room for a poet, 136, 137; + virtues and defects, 143; + faith in, 179; + people compared with English, 216; + things awry, 260; + _aristocracy_, 296; + in the Civil War, 304; + Revolution, 305; + Lincoln, the true history of his time, 307; + passion for, 308, 309; + artificial rhythm, 329; + its own literary style, 342; + home of man, 371; + loyalty to, 406; + epithets, 406, 407. + (See _England, New England_, etc.) + + Amici, meeting Emerson, 63. + (See _Italy_.) + + Amusements, in New England, 30. + + Anaemia, artistic, 334. + + Ancestry: + in general, 1-3; + Emerson's, 3 _et seq._ + (See _Heredity_.) + + Andover, Mass.: + Theological School, 48; + graduates, 411. + + Andrew, John Albion: + War Governor, 223; + hearing Emerson, 379. + (See _South_.) + + Angelo. (See _Michael Angelo_.) + + Antinomianism: + in The Dial, 162; + kept from, 177. + (See _God, Religion_, etc.) + + Anti-Slavery: + in Emerson's pulpit, 57; + the reform, 141, 145, 152; + Emancipation address, 181; + Boston and New York addresses, 210-212; + Emancipation Proclamation, 228; + Fugitive Slave Law, and other matters, 303-307. + (See _South_.) + + Antoninus, Marcus, allusion, 16. + + Architecture, illustrations, 253. + + Arianism, 51. + (See _Unitarianism_.) + + Aristotle: + influence over Mary Emerson, 17; + times mentioned, 382. + + Arminianism, 51. + (See _Methodism, Religion_, etc.) + + Arnim, Gisela von, 225. + + Arnold, Matthew: + quotation about America, 137: + lecture, 236; + on Milton, 315; + his Thyrsis, 333; + criticism, 334; + string of Emerson's epithets, 406. + + Aryans, comparison, 312. + + Asia: + a pet name, 176; + immovable, 200. + + Assabet River, 70, 71. + + Astronomy: + Harp illustration, 108; + stars against wrong, 252, 253. + (See _Galileo, Stars, Venus_, etc.) + + Atlantic Monthly: + sketch of Dr. Ripley, 14, 15; + of Mary Moody Emerson, 16; + established, 221; + supposititious club, 222; + on Persian Poetry, 224; + on Thoreau, 228; + Emerson's contributions, 239, 241; + Brahma, 296. + + Atmosphere: + effect on inspiration, 290; + spiritual, 413, 414. + + Augustine, Emerson's study of, 52. + + Authors, quoted by Emerson, 381-383. + (See _Plutarch_, etc.) + + + Bacon, Francis: + allusion, 22, 111; + times quoted, 382. + + Bancroft, George: + literary rank, 33; + in college, 45. + + Barbier, Henri Auguste, on Napoleon, 208. + + Barnwell, Robert W.: + in history, 45; + in college, 47. + + Beaumont and Fletcher, disputed, line, 128, 129. + + Beauty: + its nature, 74, 94, 95; + an end, 99, 135, 182; + study, 301. + + Beecher, Edward, on preexistence, 391. + (See _Preexistence_.) + + Behmen, Jacob: + mysticism, 201, 202, 396; + citation, 380. + + Berkeley, Bishop: + characteristics, 189; + matter, 300. + + Bible: + Mary Emerson's study, 16; + Mosaic cosmogony, 18; + the Exodus, 35; + the Lord's Supper, 58; + Psalms, 68, 181, 182, 253; + lost Paradise, 101; + Genesis, Sermon on the Mount, 102; + Seer of Patmos, 102, 103; + Apocalypse, 105; + Song of Songs, 117; + Baruch's roll, 117, 118; + not closed, 122; + the Sower, 154; + Noah's Ark, 191; + Pharisee's trumpets, 255; + names and imagery, 268; + sparing the rod, 297; + rhythmic mottoes, 314; + beauty of Israel, 351; + face of an angel, 352; + barren fig-tree, 367; + a classic, 376; + body of death, "Peace be still!" 379; + draught of fishes, 381; + its semi-detached sentences, 405; + Job quoted, 411; + "the man Christ Jesus," 412; + scattering abroad, 414. + (See _Christ, God, Religion,_ etc.) + + Bigelow, Jacob, on rural cemeteries, 31. + + Biography, every man writes his own, 1. + + Blackmore, Sir Richard, controversy, 31. + + Bliss Family, 9. + + Bliss, Daniel, patriotism, 72. + + Blood, transfusion of, 256. + + Books, use and abuse, 110, 111. + (See _Emerson's Essays_.) + + Boston, Mass.: + First Church, 10, 12, 13; + Woman's Club, 16; + Harbor, 19; + nebular spot, 25, 26; + its pulpit darling, 27; + Episcopacy, 28; + Athenaeum, 31; + magazines, 28-34; + intellectual character, lights on its three hills, high caste + religion, 34; + Samaria and Jerusalem, 35; + streets and squares, 37-39; + Latin School, 39, 40, 43; + new buildings, 42; + Mrs. Emerson's boarding-house, the Common as a pasture, 43; + Unitarian preaching, 51; + a New England centre, 52; + Emerson's settlement, 54; + Second Church, 55-61; + lectures, 87, 88, 191; + Trimount Oracle, 102; + stirred by the Divinity-School address, 126; + school-keeping, Roxbury, 129; + aesthetic society, 149; + Transcendentalists, 155, 156; + Bay, 172; + Freeman Place Chapel, 210: + Saturday Club, 221-223; + Burns Centennial, 224, 225; + Parker meeting, 228; + letters, 263, 274, 275; + Old South lecture, 294; + Unitarianism, 298; + Emancipation Proclamation, 307; + special train, 350; + Sons of Liberty, 369; + birthplace, 407; + Baptists, 413. + + Boswell, James: + allusion, 138; + one lacking, 223; + Life of Johnson, 268. + + Botany, 403. + (See _Science_.) + + Bowen, Francis: literary rank, 34; + on Nature, 103, 104. + + Brook Farm, 159, 164-166, 189, 191. + (See _Transcendentalism_, etc.) + + Brown, Howard N., prayer, 355. + + Brown, John, sympathy with, 211. + (See _Anti-Slavery, South_.) + + Brownson, Orestes A., at a party, 149. + + Bryant, William Cullen: + his literary rank, 33; + redundant syllable, 328; + his translation of Homer quoted, 378. + + Buckminster, Joseph Stevens: + minister in Boston, 12, 26, 27, 52; + Memoir, 29; + destruction of Goldau, 31. + + Buddhism: + like Transcendentalism, 151; + Buddhist nature, 188; + saints + 298. (See _Emerson's Poems_,--Brahma, + --_India_, etc.) + + Buffon, on style, 341. + + Bulkeley Family, 4-7. + + Bulkeley, Peter: + minister of Concord, 4-7, 71; + comparison of sermons, 57; + patriotism, 72; + landowner, 327. + + Bunyan, John, quoted, 169. + + Burke, Edmund: + essay, 73; + times mentioned, 382. + + Burns, Robert: + festival, 224, 225; + rank, 281; + image referred to, 386; + religious position, 409. (See _Scotland_.) + + Burroughs, John, view of English life, 335. + + Burton, Robert, quotations, 109, 381. + + Buttrick, Major, in the Revolution, 71, 72. + + Byron, Lord: + allusion, 16; + rank, 281; + disdain, 321; + uncertain sky, 335; + parallelism, 399. + + + CABOT, J. ELLIOT: + on Emerson's literary habits, 27; + The Dial, 159; + prefaces, 283, 302; + Note, 295, 296; + Prefatory Note, 310, 311; + the last meetings, 347, 348. + + Caesar, Julius, 184,197. + + California, trip, 263-271, 359. (See _Thayer_.) + + Calvin, John: + his Commentary, 103; + used by Cotton, 286. + + Calvinism: + William Emerson's want of sympathy with, 11, 12; + outgrown, 51; + predestination, 230; + saints, 298; + spiritual influx, 412. + (See _God, Puritanism, Religion, Unitarianism.)_ + + Cambridge, Mass.: + Emerson teaching there, 50; + exclusive circles, 52. + (See _Harvard University_.) + + Cant, disgust with, 156. + + Carlyle, Thomas: + meeting Emerson, 63; + recollections of their relations, 78-80, 83; + Sartor Resartus, 81, 82, 91; + correspondence, 82, 83, 89, 90, 127, 176, 177, 192, 315, 317, 374, + 380, 381, 406, 407; + Life of Schiller, 91; + on Nature, 104, 105; + Miscellanies, 130; + the Waterville Address, 136-138; + influence, 149, 150; + on Transcendentalism, 156-158; + The Dial, 160-163; + Brook Farm, 164; + friendship, 171; + Chelsea visit, 194; + bitter legacy, 196; + love of power, 197; + on Napoleon and Goethe, 208; + grumblings, 260; + tobacco, 270; + Sartor reprinted, 272; + paper on, 294; + Emerson's dying friendship, 349; + physique, 363; + Gallic fire, 386; + on Characteristics, 387; + personality traceable, 389. + + Carpenter, William B., 230. + + Century, The, essay in, 295. + + Cerebration, unconscious, 112, 113. + + Chalmers, Thomas, preaching, 65. + + Channing, Walter, headache, 175, 390. + + Channing, William Ellery: + allusion, 16; + directing Emerson's studies, 51; + preaching, 52; + Emerson in his pulpit, 66; + influence, 147, 149; + kept awake, 157. + + Channing, William Ellery, the poet: + his Wanderer, 263; + Poems, 403. + + Channing, William Henry: + allusions, 131, 149; + in The Dial, 159; + the Fuller Memoir, 209; + Ode inscribed to, 211, 212. + + Charleston, S C, Emerson's preaching, 53. (See _South_.) + + Charlestown, Mass., Edward Emerson's residence, 8. + + Charles V., 197. + + Charles XII., 197. + + Chatelet, Parent du, a realist, 326. + + Chatham, Lord, 255. + + Chaucer, Geoffrey: + borrowings, 205; + rank, 281; + honest rhymes, 340; + times mentioned, 382. + + Chelmsford, Mass., Emerson teaching there, 49, 50. + + Chemistry, 403. (See _Science_.) + + Cheshire, its "haughty hill," 323. + + Choate, Rufus, oratory, 148. + + Christ: + reserved expressions about, 13; + mediatorship, 59; + true office, 120-122; + worship, 412. (See _Jesus, Religion_, etc.) + + Christianity: + its essentials, 13; + primitive, 35; + a mythus, defects, 121; + the true, 122; + two benefits, 123; + authority, 124; + incarnation of, 176; + the essence, 306; + Fathers, 391. + + Christian, Emerson a, 267. + + Christian Examiner, The: + on William Emerson, 12; + its literary predecessor, 29; + on Nature, 103, 104; + repudiates Divinity School Address, 124. + + Church: + activity in 1820, 147; + avoidance of, 153; + the true, 244; + music, 306. (See _God, Jesus, Religion_, etc.) + + Cicero, allusion, 111. + Cid, the, 184. + + Clarke, James Freeman: + letters, 77-80, 128-131; + transcendentalism, 149; + The Dial, 159; + Fuller Memoir, 209; + Emerson's funeral, 351, 353-355. + + Clarke, Samuel, allusion, 16. + + Clarke, Sarah, sketches, 130. + + Clarkson, Thomas, 220. + + Clergy: + among Emerson's ancestry, 3-8; + gravestones, 9. (See _Cotton, Heredity_, etc.) + + Coleridge, Samuel Taylor: + allusion, 16; + Emerson's account, 63; + influence, 149, 150; + Carlyle's criticism, 196; + Ancient Mariner, 333; + Christabel, Abyssinian Maid, 334; + times mentioned, 382; + an image quoted, 386; + William Tell, 387. + + Collins, William: + poetry, 321; + Ode and Dirge, 332. + + Commodity, essay, 94. + + Concentration, 288. + + Concord, Mass.: + Bulkeley's ministry, 4-7; + first association with the Emerson name, 7; + Joseph's descendants, 8; + the Fight, 9; Dr. Ripley, 10; + Social Club, 14; + Emerson's preaching, 54; + Goodwin's settlement, 56; + discord, 57; + Emerson's residence begun, 69, 70; + a typical town, 70; + settlement, 71; + a Delphi, 72; + Emerson home, 83; + Second Centennial, 84, 85, 303; + noted citizens, 86; + town government, the, monument, 87; + the Sage, 102; + letters, 125-131, 225; + supposition of Carlyle's life there, 171; + Emancipation Address, 181; + leaving, 192; + John Brown meeting, 211; + Samuel Hoar, 213; + wide-awake, 221; + Lincoln obsequies, 243, 307; + an _under_-Concord, 256; + fire, 271-279; + letters, 275-279; + return, 279; + Minute Man unveiled, 292; + Soldiers' Monument, 303; + land-owners, 327; + memorial stone, 333; + Conway's visits, 343, 344; + Whitman's, 344, 345; + Russell's, 345; funeral, 350-356; + founders, 352; + Sleepy Hollow, 356; + a strong attraction, 369; + neighbors, 373; + Prophet, 415. + + Congdon, Charles, his Reminiscences, + 66. + + Conservatism, fairly treated, 156, + 157. (See _Reformers, Religion, + Transcendentalism,_ etc.) + + Conversation: + C.C. Emerson's essay, 22, 258; + inspiration, 290. + + Conway, Moncure D.: + account of Emerson, 55, 56, 66, 194; + two visits, 343, 344; + anecdote, 346; + error, 401; + on Stanley, 414. + + Cooke, George Willis: + biography of Emerson, 43, 44, 66, 88; + on American Scholar, 107, 108; + on anti-slavery, 212; + on Parnassus, 280-282; + on pantheism, 411. + + Cooper, James Fenimore, 33. + + Corot, pearly mist, 335, 336. (See + _Pictures_, etc.) + + Cotton, John: + service to scholarship, 34; + reading Calvin, 286. + + Counterparts, the story, 226. + + Cowper, William: + Mother's Picture, 178; + disinterested good, 304; + tenderness, 333; + verse, 338. + + Cranch, Christopher P.: + The Dial, 159; + poetic prediction, 416, 417. + + Cromwell, Oliver: + saying by a war saint, 252; + in poetry, 387. + + Cudworth, Ralph, epithets, 200. + + Cupples, George, on Emerson's lectures, 195. + + Curtius, Quintus for Mettus, 388. + + Cushing, Caleb: + rank, 33; + in college, 45. + + + Dana, Richard Henry, his literary place, 33, 223. + + Dante: + allusion in Anthology, 31; + rank, 202, 320; + times mentioned, 382. + + Dartmouth College, oration, 131-135. + + Darwin, Charles, Origin of Species, 105. + + Dawes, Rufus, Boyhood Memories, 44. + + Declaration of Independence, intellectual, + 115. (See _American_, etc.) + + Delirium, imaginative, easily produced, + 238. (See _Intuition_.) + + Delia Cruscans, allusion, 152. (See + _Transcendentalism_.) + + Delos, allusion, 374. + + Delphic Oracle: + of New England, 72; + illustration, 84. + + Democratic Review, The, on Nature, 103. + + De Profundis, illustrating Carlyle's spirit, 83. + + De Quincey, Thomas: + Emerson's interview with, 63, 195; + on originality, 92. + + De Staël, Mme., allusion, 16. + + De Tocqueville, account of Unitarianism, 51. + Dewey, Orville, New Bedford ministry, 67. + + Dexter, Lord Timothy, punctuation, 325, 326. + + Dial, The: + established, 147, 158; + editors, 159; + influence, 160-163; + death, 164; + poems, 192; + old contributors, 221; + papers, 295; + intuitions, 394. + + Dial, The (second), in Cincinnati, 239. + + Dickens, Charles: + on Father Taylor, 56; + American Notes, 155. + + Diderot, Denis, essay, 79. + + Diogenes, story, 401. (See _Laertius_.) + + Disinterestedness, 259. + + Disraeli, Benjamin, the rectorship, 282. + + Dramas, their limitations, 375. (See _Shakespeare_.) + + Dress, illustration of poetry, 311, 312. + + Dryden, John, quotation, 20, 21. + + Dwight, John S.: + in The Dial, 159; + musical critic, 223. + + + East Lexington, Mass., the Unitarian pulpit, 88. + + Economy, its meaning, 142. + + Edinburgh, Scotland: + Emerson's visit and preaching, 64, 65; + lecture, 195. + + Education: + through friendship, 97, 98; + public questions, 258, 259. + + Edwards, Jonathan: + allusions, 16, 51; + the atmosphere changed, 414. + (See _Calvinism, Puritanism, Unitarianism_, etc.) + + Egotism, a pest, 233. + + Egypt: + poetic teaching, 121; + trip, 271, 272; + Sphinx, 330. (See _Emerson's Poems_,--Sphinx.) + + Election Sermon, illustration, 112. + + Elizabeth, Queen, verbal heir-loom, 313. (See _Raleigh_, etc.) + + Ellis, Rufus, minister of the First Church, Boston, 43. + + Eloquence, defined, 285, 286. + + Emerson Family, 3 _et seq_. + + Emerson, Charles Chauncy, brother of Ralph Waldo: + feeling towards natural science, 18, 237; + memories, 19-25, 37, 43; + character, 77; + death, 89, 90; + influence, 98; + The Dial, 161; + "the hand of Douglas," 234; + nearness, 368; + poetry, 385; + Harvard Register, 401. + + Emerson, Edith, daughter of Ralph Waldo, 263. + + Emerson, Edward, of Newbury, 8. + + Emerson, Edward Bliss, brother of Ralph Waldo: + allusions, 19, 20, 37, 38; + death, 89; + Last Farewell, poem, 161; + nearness, 368. + + Emerson, Edward Waldo, son of Ralph Waldo: + in New York, 246; + on the Farming essay, 255; + father's last days, 346-349; + reminiscences, 359. + + Emerson, Ellen, daughter of Ralph Waldo: + residence, 83; + trip to Europe, 271; + care of her father, 294; + correspondence, 347. + + Emerson, Mrs. Ellen Louisa Tucker, first wife of Ralph Waldo, 55. + + Emerson, Joseph, minister of Mendon, 4, 7, 8. + + Emerson, Joseph, the second, minister of Malden, 8. + + Emerson, Mrs. Lydia Jackson, second wife of Ralph Waldo: + marriage, 83; + _Asia_, 176. + + Emerson, Mary Moody: + influence over her nephew, 16-18; + quoted, 385. + + Emerson, Robert Bulkeley, brother of Ralph Waldo, 37. + + Emerson, Ralph Waldo, His Life: + moulding influences, 1; + New England heredity, 2; + ancestry, 3-10; + parents, 10-16; + Aunt Mary, 16-19; + brothers, 19-25; + the nest, 25; + noted scholars, 26-36; + birthplace, 37, 38; + boyhood, 39, 40; + early efforts, 41, 42; + parsonages, 42; + father's death, 43; + boyish appearance, 44; + college days, 45-47; + letter, 48; + teaching, 49, 50; + studying theology, and preaching, 51-54; + ordination, marriage, 55; + benevolent efforts, wife's death, 56; + withdrawal from his church, 57-61; + first trip to Europe, 62-65; + preaching in America, 66, 67; + remembered conversations, 68, 69; + residence in the Old Manse, 69-72; + lecturing, essays in The North American, 73; + poems, 74; + portraying himself, 75; + comparison with Milton, 76, 77; + letters to Clarke, 78-80, 128-131; + interest in Sartor Resartus, 81; + first letter to Carlyle, 82; + second marriage and Concord home, 83; + Second Centennial, 84-87; + Boston lectures, Concord Fight; 87; + East Lexington church, War, 88; + death of brothers, 89, 90; + Nature published, 91; + parallel with Wordsworth, 92; + free utterance, 93; + Beauty, poems, + 94; + Language, 95-97; + Discipline, 97, 98; + Idealism, 98, 99; + Illusions, 99, 100; + Spirit and Matter, 100; + Paradise regained, 101; + the Bible spirit, 102; + Revelations, 103; + Bowen's criticism, 104; + Evolution, 105, 106; + Phi Beta Kappa oration, 107, 108; + fable of the One Man, 109; + man thinking, 110; + Books, 111; + unconscious cerebration, 112; + a scholar's duties, 113; + specialists, 114; + a declaration of intellectual independence, 115; + address at the Theological School, 116, 117; + effect on Unitarians, 118; + sentiment of duty, 119; + Intuition, 120; + Reason, 121; + the Traditional Jesus, 122; + Sabbath and Preaching, 123; + correspondence with Ware, 124-127; + ensuing controversy, 127; + Ten Lectures, 128; + Dartmouth Address, 131-136; + Waterville Address, 136-140; + reforms, 141-145; + new views, 146; + Past and Present, 147; + on Everett, 148; + assembly at Dr. Warren's, 149; + Boston _doctrinaires_, 150; + unwise followers, 151-156; + Conservatives, 156, 157; + two Transcendental products, 157-166; + first volume of Essays, 166; + History, 167, 168; + Self-reliance, 168, 169; + Compensation, 169; + other essays, 170; + Friendship, 170, 171; + Heroism, 172; + Over-Soul, 172-175; + house and income, 176; + son's death, 177, 178; + American and Oriental qualities, 179; + English virtues, 180; + Emancipation addresses in 1844, 181; + second series of Essays, 181-188; + Reformers, 188-191; + Carlyle's business, Poems published, 192; + a second trip to Europe, 193-196; + Representative Men, 196-209; + lectures again, 210; + Abolitionism, 211, 212; + Woman's Rights, 212, 213; + a New England Roman, 213, 214; + English Traits, 214-221; + a new magazine, 221; + clubs, 222, 223; + more poetry, 224; + Burns Festival, 224; + letter about various literary matters, 225-227; + Parker's death, Lincoln's Proclamation, 228; + Conduct of Life, 228-239; + Boston Hymn, 240; + "So nigh is grandeur to our dust," 241; + Atlantic contributions, 242; + Lincoln obsequies, 243; + Free Religion, 243, 244; + second Phi Beta Kappa oration, 244-246; + poem read to his son, 246-248; + Harvard Lectures, 249-255; + agriculture and science, 255, 256; + predictions, 257; + Books, 258; + Conversation, 258; + elements of Courage, 259; + Success, 260, 261; + on old men, 261, 262; + California trip, 263-268; + eating, 269; + smoking, 270; + conflagration, loss of memory, Froude banquet, third trip abroad, 272; + friendly gifts, 272-279; + editing Parnassus, 280-282; + failing powers, 283; + Hope everywhere, 284; + negations, 285; + Eloquence, Pessimism, 286; + Comedy, Plagiarism, 287; + lessons repeated, 288; + Sources of Inspiration, 289, 290; + Future Life, 290-292; + dissolving creed, 292; + Concord Bridge, 292, 293; + decline of faculties, Old South lecture, 294; + papers, 294, 295; + quiet pen, 295; + posthumous works, 295 _et seq.;_ + the pedagogue, 297; + University of Virginia, 299; + indebtedness to Plutarch, 299-302; + slavery questions, 303-308; + Woman Question, 308; + patriotism, 308, 309; + nothing but a poet, 311; + antique words, 313; + self-revelation, 313, 314; + a great poet? 314-316; + humility, 317-319; + poetic favorites, 320, 321; + comparison with contemporaries, 321; + citizen of the universe, 322; + fascination of symbolism, 323; + realism, science, imaginative coloring, 324; + dangers of realistic poetry, 325; + range of subjects, 326; + bad rhymes, 327; + a trick of verse, 328; + one faultless poem, 332; + spell-bound readers, 333; + workshop, 334; + octosyllabic verse, atmosphere, 335, 336; + comparison with Wordsworth, 337; + and others, 338; + dissolving sentences, 339; + incompleteness, 339, 340; + personality, 341, 342; + last visits received, 343-345; + the red rose, 345; + forgetfulness, 346; + literary work of last years, 346, 347; + letters unanswered, 347; + hearing and sight, subjects that interested him, 348; + later hours, death, 349; + last rites, 350-356; + portrayal, 357-419; + atmosphere, 357; + books, distilled alcohol, 358; + physique, 359; + demeanor, 360; + hair and eyes, insensibility to music, 361; + daily habits, 362; + bodily infirmities, 362, 363; + voice, 363; + quiet laughter, want of manual dexterity, 364; + spade anecdote, memory, + ignorance of exact science, 305; + intuition and natural sagacity united, fastidiousness, 366; + impatience with small-minded worshippers, Frothingham's Biography, 367; + intimates, familiarity not invited, 368; + among fellow-townsmen, errand to earth, inherited traditions, 369; + sealed orders, 370, 371; + conscientious work, sacrifices for truth, essays instead of sermons, + 372; + congregation at large, charm, optimism, 373; + financially straitened, 374; + lecture room limitations, 374, 375; + a Shakespeare parallel, 375, 376; + platform fascination, 376; + constructive power, 376, 377; + English experiences, lecture-peddling, 377; + a stove relinquished, utterance, an hour's weight, 378; + trumpet-sound, sweet seriousness, diamond drops, effect on Governor + Andrew, 379; + learning at second hand, 380; + the study of Goethe, 380; + a great quoter, no pedantry, 381; + list of authors referred to, 381, 382; + special indebtedness, 382; + penetration, borrowing, 383; + method of writing and its results, aided by others, 384; + sayings that seem family property, 385; + passages compared, 385-387; + the tributary streams, 388; + accuracy as to facts, 388; + personalities traceable in him, 389; + place as a thinker, 390; + Platonic anecdote, 391; + preëxistence, 391, 392; + mind-moulds, 393; + relying on instinct, 394; + dangers of intuition, 395; + mysticism, 396; + Oriental side, 397; + transcendental mood, 398; + personal identity confused, 399; + a distorting mirror, 400; + distrust of science, 401-403; + style illustrated, 403, 404; + favorite words, 405; + royal imagery, 406; + comments on America, 406, 407; + common property of mankind, 407; + public spirit, solitary workshop, martyrdom from visitors, 408; + white shield invulnerable, 409; + religious attitude, 409-411; + spiritual influx, creed, 412; + clerical relations, 413; + Dr. Hague's criticism, 413, 414; + ameliorating religious influence, 414; + freedom, 415; + enduring verse and thought, 416, 417; + comparison with Jesus, 417; + sincere manhood, 418; + transparency, 419. + + Emerson's Books:-- + Conduct of Life, 229, 237. + English Traits: + the first European trip, 62; + published, 214; + analysis, 214-220; + penetration, 383; + Teutonic fire, 386. + Essays: + Dickens's allusion, 156; + collected, 166. + Essays, second series, 183. + Lectures and Biographical Sketches, 128, 295, 296, 347. + Letters and Social Aims, 210, 283, 284, 296. + May-day and Other Pieces, 161, 192, 224, 242, 257, 310, 318, 346. + Memoir of Margaret Fuller, 209. + Miscellanies, 302, 303. + Nature, Addresses, and Lectures, 179. + Nature: + resemblance of extracts from Mary Moody Emerson, 17; + where written, 70; + the Many in One, 73; + first published, 91, 92, 373; + analysis, 93-107; + obscure, 108; + Beauty, 237. + Parnassus: + collected, 280; + Preface, 314; + allusion, 321. + Poems, 293, 310, 318, 339. + Representative Men, 196-209. + Selected Poems, 311, 347. + Society and Solitude, 250. + + Emerson's Essays, Lectures, Sermons, Speeches, etc.:-- + In general: + essays, 73, 88, 91, 92, 310; + income from lectures, 176, 191, 192; + lectures in England, 194-196; + long series, 372; + lecture-room, 374; + plays and lectures, 375; + double duty, 376, 377; + charm, 379. + (See _Emerson's Life, Lyceum_, etc.) + American Civilization, 307. + American Scholar, The, 107-115, 133, 188. + Anglo-Saxon Race, The, 210. + Anti-Slavery Address, New York, 210-212. + Anti-Slavery Lecture, Boston, 210, 211. + Aristocracy, 296. + Art, 166, 175, 253, 254. + Beauty, 235-237. + Behavior, 234. + Books, 257, 380. + Brown, John, 302, 305, 306. + Burke, Edmund, 73. + Burns, Robert, 224, 225, 307. + Carlyle, Thomas, 294, 302, 317. + Channing's Poem, preface, 262, 263, 403. + Character, 183, 295, 297. + Chardon Street and Bible Convention, 159, 302. + Circles, 166, 174, 175. + Civilization, 250-253. + Clubs, 258. + Comedy. 128. + Comic, The, 286, 287. + Commodity, 94. + Compensation, 166, 169. + Concord Fight, the anniversary speech, 292, 293. + Concord, Second Centennial Discourse, 84-86. + Conservative, The, 156, 157, 159. + Considerations by the Way, 235. + Courage, 259. + Culture, 232, 233. + Demonology, 128, 296. + Discipline, 97, 98. + Divinity School Address, 116-127, 131. + Doctrine of the Soul, 127. + Domestic Life, 254, 255. + Duty, 128. + Editorial Address, Mass. Quarterly Review, 193, 302, 307. + Education, 296, 297. + Eloquence, 254; + second essay, 285, 286. + Emancipation in the British West Indies, 181, 303. + Emancipation Proclamation, 228, 307. + Emerson, Mary Moody, 295, 296, 302. + English Literature, 87. + Experience, 182. + Farming, 255, 256. + Fate, 228-330. + Fortune of the Republic, 294, 302, 307-309. + Fox, George, 73. + France, 196. + Free Religious Association, 243, 302, 307. + Friendship, 166, 170. + Froude, James Anthony, after-dinner speech, 271. + Fugitive Slave Law, 303, 304. + Genius, 127. + Gifts, 184, 185. + Goethe, or the Writer, 208, 209. + Greatness, 288, 346. + Harvard Commemoration, 307. + Heroism, 166, 172. + Historical Discourse, at Concord, 303. + Historic Notes of Life and Letters in New England, 147, 165, 296, 302. + History, 166, 167. + Hoar, Samuel, 213, 214, 295, 302. + Home, 127. + Hope, 284, 285. + Howard University, speech, 263. + Human Culture, 87. + Idealism, 98-100. + Illusions, 235, 239. + Immortality, 266, 290-292, 354. + Inspiration, 289. + Intellect, 166, 175. + Kansas Affairs, 305. + Kossuth, 307. + Language, 95-97. + Lincoln, Abraham, funeral remarks, 242, 243, 307. + Literary Ethics, 131-136. + Lord's Supper, 57-60, 303. + Love, 127,128,166,170. (See _Emerson's Poems_.) + Luther, 73. + Manners, 183, 234. + Man of Letters, The, 296, 298. + Man the Reformer, 142, 143. + Method of Nature, The, 136-141. + Michael Angelo, 73, 75. + Milton, 73, 75. + Montaigne, or the Skeptic, 202-204. + Napoleon, or the Man of the World, 206-209. + Natural History of the Intellect, 249, 268, 347. + Nature (the essay), 185, 186, 398. + New England Reformers, 188-191, 385. + Nominalism and Realism, 188. + Old Age, 261, 262. + Over-Soul, The, 166, 172-175, 398, 411. + Parker, Theodore, 228, 306. + Perpetual Forces, 297. + Persian Poetry, 224. + Phi Beta Kappa oration, 347. + Philosophy of History, 87. + Plato, 198-200; + New Readings, 200. + Plutarch, 295, 299-302. + Plutarch's Morals, introduction, 262. + Poet, The, 181, 182. + Poetry, 210. + Poetry and Imagination, 283; + subdivisions: Bards and Trouveurs, + Creation, Form, Imagination, + Melody, Morals, Rhythm, Poetry, + Transcendency, Veracity, 283, 284; + quoted, 325. + Politics, 186, 187. + Power, 230, 231. + Preacher, The, 294, 298. + Professions of Divinity, Law, and Medicine, 41. + Progress of Culture, The, 244, 288. + Prospects, 101-103. + Protest, The, 127. + Providence Sermon, 130. + Prudence, 166, 171, 172. + Quotation and Originality, 287, 288. + Relation of Man to the Globe, 73. + Resources, 286. + Right Hand of Fellowship, The, at Concord, 56. + Ripley, Dr. Ezra, 295, 302. + Scholar, The, 296, 299. + School, The, 127. + Scott, speech, 302, 307. + Self-Reliance, 166, 168, 411. + Shakespeare, or the Poet, 204-206. + Social Aims, 285. + Soldiers' Monument, at Concord, 303. + Sovereignty of Ethics, The, 295, 297, 298. + Spirit, 100, 101. + Spiritual Laws, 166, 168. + Success, 260, 261. + Sumner Assault, 304. + Superlatives, 295, 297. + Swedenborg, or the Mystic, 201, 202, 206. + Thoreau, Henry D., 228, 295, 302. + Times, The, 142-145. + Tragedy, 127. + Transcendentalist, The, 145-155, 159. + Universality of the Moral Sentiment, 66. + University of Virginia, address, 347. + War, 88, 303. + Water, 73. + Wealth, 231, 232. + What is Beauty? 74, 94, 95. + Woman, 307, 308. + Woman's Rights, 212, 213. + Work and Days, 256, 312, 406, 407. + Worship, 235. + Young American, The, 166, 180, 181. + + Emerson's Poems:-- + In general: inspiration from nature, 22, 96; + poetic rank in college, 45, 46; + prose-poetry and philosophy, 91, 93; + annual _afflatus_, in America, 136, 137; + first volume, 192; + five immortal poets, 202; + ideas repeated, 239; + true position, 311 _et seq.; in carmine veritas_, 313; + litanies, 314; + arithmetic, 321, 322; + fascination, 323; + celestial imagery, 324; + tin pans, 325; + realism, 326; + metrical difficulties, 327, 335; + blemishes, 328; + careless rhymes, 329; + delicate descriptions, 331; + pathos, 332; + fascination, 333; + unfinished, 334, 339, 340; + atmosphere, 335; + subjectivity, 336; + sympathetic illusion, 337; + resemblances, 337, 338; + rhythms, 340; + own order, 341, 342; + always a poet, 346. + (See _Emerson's Life, Milton, Poets_, etc.) + Adirondacs, The, 242, 309, 327. + Blight, 402. + Boston, 346, 407, 408. + Boston Hymn, 211, 221, 241, 242. + Brahma, 221, 242, 396, 397. + Celestial Love, 170. (Three Loves.) + Class Day Poem, 45-47. + Concord Hymn, 87, 332. + Daemonic Love, 170. (Three Loves.) + Days, 221, 242, 257, 312; + _pleachéd_, 313. + Destiny, 332. + Each and All, 73, 74, 94, 331. + Earth-Song, 327. + Elements, 242. + Fate, 159, 387. + Flute, The, 399. + Good-by, Proud World, 129, 130, 338. + Hamatreya, 327. + Harp, The, 320, 321, 329, 330. (See _Aeolian Harp_.) + Hoar, Samuel, 213, 214. + Humble Bee, 46, 74, 75, 128, 272, 326, 331, 338. + Initial Love, 170, 387. (Three Loves.) + In Memoriam, 19, 89. + Latin Translations, 43. + May Day, 242; + changes, 311, 333. + Merlin, 318, 319. (Merlin's Song.) + Mithridates, 331. + Monadnoc, 322, 331; + alterations, 366. + My Garden, 242. + Nature and Life, 242. + Occasional and Miscellaneous Pieces, 242. + Ode inscribed to W.H. Channing, 211, 212. + Poet, The, 317-320, 333. + Preface to Nature, 105. + Problem, The, 159, 161, 253, 284, 326, 337, 380. + Quatrains, 223, 242. + Rhodora, The, 74, 94, 95, 129. + Romany Girl, The, 221. + Saadi, 221, 242. + Sea-Shore, 333, 339. + Snow-Storm, 331, 338, 339. + Solution, 320. + Song for Knights of Square Table, 42. + Sphinx, The, 113, 159, 243, 330, 398. + Terminus, 221, 242; + read to his son, 246-248, 363. + Test, The, 201, 202, 320. + Threnody, 178, 333. + Titmouse, The, 221, 326. + Translations, 242, 399. + Uriel, 326, 331, 398. + Voluntaries, 241. + Waldeinsamkeit, 221. + Walk, The, 402. + Woodnotes, 46, 159, 331, 338. + World-Soul, The, 331. + + Emersoniana, 358. + + Emerson, Thomas, of Ipswich, 38. + + Emerson, Waldo, child of Ralph Waldo: + death, 177, 178; + anecdote, 265. + + Emerson, William, grandfather of Ralph Waldo: + minister of Concord, 8-10, 14; + building the Manse, 70; + patriotism, 72. + + Emerson, William, father of Ralph Waldo: + minister, in Harvard and Boston, 10-14; + editorship, 26, 32, 33; + the parsonage, 37, 42; + death, 43. + + Emerson, William, brother of Ralph Waldo, 37, 39, 49, 53. + + England: + first visit, 62-65; + Lake Windermere, 70; + philosophers, 76; + the virtues of the people, 179, 180; + a second visit, 192 _et seq.;_ + notabilities 195; + the lectures, 196; + Stonehenge, 215; + the aristocracy, 215; + matters wrong, 260; + Anglo-Saxon race, trade and liberty, 304; + lustier life, 335; + language, 352; + lecturing, a key, 377; + smouldering fire, 385. (See _America, Europe_, etc.) + + Enthusiasm: + need of, 143; + weakness, 154. + + Epicurus, agreement with, 301. + + Episcopacy: + in Boston, 28, 34, 52; + church in Newton, 68; + at Hanover, 132; + quotation from liturgy, 354; + burial service, 356. (See _Calvinism, Church, Religion_, etc.) + + Esquimau, allusion, 167. + + Establishment, party of the, 147. (See _Puritanism, Religion, + Unitarianism_, etc.) + + Eternal, relations to the, 297. (See _God, Jesus, Religion_, etc.) + + Europe: + Emerson's first visit, 62-65; + return, 72; + the Muses, 114; + debt to the East, 120; + famous gentlemen, 184; + second visit, 193-196; + weary of Napoleon, 207; + return, 210; + conflict possible, 218; + third visit, 271-279; + cast-out passion for, 308. (See _America, England, France_, etc.) + + Everett, Edward: + on Tudor, 28; + literary rank, 33; + preaching, 52; + influence, 148. + + Evolution, taught in "Nature," 105, 106. + + Eyeball, transparent, 398. + + + Faith: + lacking in America, 143, + building cathedrals, 253. (See _God, Religion_, etc.) + + Fine, a characteristic expression, 405. + + Fire, illustration, 386. (See _England, France_, etc.) + + Forbes, John M., connected with the Emerson family, 263-265; + his letter, 263. + + Foster, John, minister of Brighton, 15. + + Fourth-of-July, orations, 386. (See _America_, etc.) + + Fox, George, essay on, 73. + + France: + Emerson's first visit, 62, 63; + philosophers, 76; + Revolution, 80; + tired of Napoleon, 207, 208; + realism, 326; + wrath, 385, 386. (See _Carlyle, England, Europe_, etc.) + + Francis, Convers, at a party, 149. + + Franklin, Benjamin: + birthplace, 37; + allusion, 184; + characteristics, 189; + Poor Richard, 231; + quoted, 236; + maxims, 261; + fondness for Plutarch, 382; + bequest, 407. + + Fraunhofer, Joseph, optician, 230, 324. + + Frazer's Magazine: + "The Mud," 79; + Sartor Resartus, 81. (See _Carlyle_.) + + Freeman, James, minister of King's Chapel, 11, 12, 52. + Free Trade, Athenaeum banquet, 220. + + Friendship, C.C. Emerson's essay, 22, 23, 77. + + Frothingham, Nathaniel L., account of Emerson's mother, 13. + + Frothingham, Octavius Brooks: Life of Ripley, 165; + an unpublished manuscript, 365-367. + + Fuller, Margaret: + borrowed sermon, 130; + at a party, 149; + The Dial, 159, 160, 162; + Memoir, 209; + causing laughter, 364; + mosaic Biography, 368. + + Furness, William Henry: + on the Emerson family, 14; + Emerson's funeral, 350, 353. + + Future, party of the, 147. + + + Galton, Francis, composite portraits, 232. + + Gardiner, John Sylvester John: + allusion, 26; + leadership in Boston, 28; + Anthology Society, 32. + (See _Episcopacy_.) + + Gardner, John Lowell, recollections of Emerson's boyhood, 38-42. + + Gardner, S.P., garden, 38. + + Genealogy, survival of the fittest, 3. + (See _Heredity_.) + + Gentleman's Magazine, 30. + + Gentleman, the, 183. + + Geography, illustration, 391. + + German: + study of, 48, 49, 78, 380; + philosophers, 76; + scholarship, 148; + oracles, 206; + writers unread, 208; + philosophers, 380; + professors, 391. + + Germany, a visit, 225, 226. + (See _Europe, France, Goethe_, etc.) + + Gifts, 185. + + Gilfillan, George: + on Emerson's preaching, 65; + Emerson's physique, 360. + + Gilman, Arthur, on the Concord home, 83. + + Glasgow, the rectorship, 280. + + God: + the universal spirit, 68, 69, 94; + face to face, 92, 93; + teaching the human mind, 98, 99; + aliens from, 101; + in us, 139-141; + his thought, 146; + belief, 170; + seen by man, 174; + divine offer, 176; + writing by grace, 182; + presence, 243; + tribute to Great First Cause, 267; + perplexity about, 410; + ever-blessed One, 411; + mirrored, 412. + (See _Christianity, Religion_, etc.) + + Goethe: + called _Mr_., 31; + dead, 63; + Clarke's essay, 79; + generalizations, 148; + influence, 150; + on Spinoza, 174, 175; + rank as a poet, 202, 320; + lovers, 226; + rare union, 324; + his books read, 380, 381; + times quoted, 382. + (See _German_, etc.) + + Goldsmith, Oliver, his Vicar of Wakefield, 9, 10, 15. + + Good, the study of, 301. + + Goodwin, H.B., Concord minister, 56. + + Gould, Master of Latin School, 39. + + Gould, Thomas R., sculptor, 68. + + Gourdin, John Gaillard Keith and Robert, in college, 47. + + Government, abolition of, 141. + + Grandmother's Review, 30. + + Gray, Thomas, Elegy often quoted, 316, 317, 416. + + Greece: + poetic teaching, 121; + allusion, 108. + + Greek: + Emerson's love for, 43, 44; + in Harvard, 49; + poets, 253; + moralist, 299; + Bryant's translation, 378; + philosophers, 391. + (See _Homer_, etc.) + + Greenough, Horatio, meeting Emerson, 63. + + Grimm, Hermann, 226. + + Guelfs and Ghibellines, illustration, 47. + + + Hafiz, times mentioned, 382. + (See _Persia_.) + + Hague, William, essay, 413. + + Haller, Albert von, rare union, 324. + + Harvard, Mass., William Emerson's settlement, 10, 11. + + Harvard University: + the Bulkeley gift, 6; + William Emerson's graduation, 10; + list of graduates, 12; + Emerson's brothers, 19, 21; + Register, 21, 24, 385, 401; + Hillard, 24, 25; + Kirkland's presidency, 26, 27; + Gardner, 39-41; + Emerson's connection, 44-49; + the Boylston prizes, 46; + Southern students, 47; + graduates at Andover, 48; + Divinity School, 51, 53; + a New England centre, 52; + Bowen's professorship, 103; + Phi Beta Kappa oration, 107, 115, 133, 188, 244; + Divinity School address, 116-132; + degree conferred, 246; + lectures, 249; + library, 257; + last Divinity address, 294; + Commemoration, 307; + singing class, 361; + graduates, 411. + (See _Cambridge_.) + + Haskins, David Green, at Emerson's funeral, 356. + + Haskins, Ruth (Emerson's mother), 10, 13, 14. + Haughty, a characteristic expression, 405. + + Hawthorne, Nathaniel: + his Mosses, 70; + "dream-peopled solitude," 86; + at the club, 223; + view of English life, 335; + grave, 356; + biography, 368. + + Hazlitt, William: + British Poets, 21. + + Health, inspiration, 289. + + Hebrew Language, study, 48. (See _Bible_.) + + Hedge, Frederic Henry: + at a party, 149; + quoted, 383. + + Henry VII., tombs, 415. + + Herbert, George: + Poem on Man, 102; + parallel, 170; + poetry, 281; + a line quoted, 345. + + Herder, Johann Gottfried, allusion, 16. + + Heredity: + Emerson's belief, 1, 2; + in Emerson family, 4, 19; + Whipple on, 389; + Jonson, 393. + + Herrick, Robert, poetry, 281. + + Higginson, Thomas Wentworth. (See _Emerson's Books_,--Nature.) + + Hilali, The Flute, 399. + + Hillard, George Stillman: + in college, 24, 25; + his literary place, 33; + aid, 276. + + Hindoo Scriptures, 199, 200. (See _Bible, India_, etc.) + + History, how it should be written, 168. + + Hoar, Ebenezer Rockwood: + reference to, 223; + on the Burns speech, 225; + kindness, 273, 274, 276-279; + at Emerson's death-bed, 349; + funeral address, 351-353. + + Hoar, Samuel: + statesman, 72; + tribute, 213, 214. + + Holland, description of the Dutch, 217. + + Holley, Horace, prayer, 267. + + Holmes, John, a pupil of Emerson, 50. + + Holmes, Oliver Wendell: + memories of Dr. Ripley, 15; + of C.C. Emerson, 20, 21; + familiarity with Cambridge and its college, 45; + erroneous quotation from, 251, 252; + jest erroneously attributed to, 400, 401. + + Holy Ghost, "a new born bard of the," 123. (See _Christ, God, + Religion_, etc.) + + Homer: + poetic rank, 202, 320; + plagiarism, 205; + Iliad, 253; + allusion, 315; + tin pans, 325; + times quoted, 382. (See _Greek_, etc.) + + Homer, Jonathan, minister of Newton, 15. + + Hooper, Mrs. Ellen, The Dial, 159, 160. + + Hope: + lacking in America, 143; + in every essay, 284. + + Horace: + allusion, 22; + Ars Poetica, 316. + + Horses, Flora Temple's time, 388. + + Howard University, speech, 263. + + Howe, Samuel Gridley, the philanthropist, 223. + + Hunt, Leigh, meeting Emerson, 195. + + Hunt, William, the painter, 223. + + + Idealism, 98-100, 146, 150. + + Idealists: + Ark full, 191; + Platonic sense, 391. + + Imagination: + the faculty, 141; + defined, 237, 238; + essay, 283; + coloring life, 324. + + Imbecility, 231. + + Immortality, 262. (See _God, Religion_, etc.) + + Incompleteness, in poetry, 339. + + India: + poetic models, 338; + idea of preëxistence, 391; + Brahmanism, 397. (See _Emerson's Poems_,--Brahma.) + + Indians: + in history of Concord, 71; + Algonquins, 72. + + Inebriation, subject in Monthly Anthology, 30. + + Insects, defended, 190. + + Inspiration: + of Nature, 22, 96, 141; + urged, 146. + + Instinct, from God or Devil, 393. + + Intellect, confidence in, 134. + + Intuition, 394. + + Ipswich, Mass., 3, 4, 8. + + Ireland, Alexander: + glimpses of Emerson, 44, 64, 65: + reception, 193,194; + on Carlyle, 196; + letter from Miss Peabody, 317; + quoting Whitman, 344; + quoted, 350. + + Irving, Washington, 33. + + Italy: + Emerson's first visit, 62, 63; + Naples, 113. + + + Jackson, Charles, garden, 38. + + Jackson, Dr. Charles Thomas, anaesthesia, 403. + + Jackson, Miss Lydia, reading Carlyle, 81. (See _Mrs. Emerson_.) + + Jahn, Johann, studied at Andover, 48. + + Jameson, Anna, new book, 131. + + Jesus: + times mentioned, 382; + a divine manifestation, 411; + followers, 417; + and Emerson, 419. (See _Bible, Christ, Church, Religion_, etc.) + Joachim, the violinist, 225, 226. + + Johnson, Samuel, literary style, 29. + + Jonson, Ben: + poetic rank, 281; + a phrase, 300; + _traduction_, 393. + (See _Heredity_, etc.) + + Journals, as a method of work, 384. + + Jupiter Scapin, 207. + + Jury Trial, and dinners, 216. + + Justice, the Arch Abolitionist, 306. + + Juvenal: + allusion, 22; + precept from heaven, 252. + + + Kalamazoo, Mich., allusion, 388. + + Kamschatka, allusion, 167. + + Keats, John: + quoted, 92; + Ode to a Nightingale, 316; + _faint, swoon_, 405. + + King, the, illustration, 74. + + Kirkland, John Thornton: + Harvard presidency, 26, 52; + memories, 27. + + Koran, allusion, 198. + (See _Bible, God, Religion_, etc.) + + + Labor: + reform, 141; + dignity, 142. + + Lacenaire, evil instinct, 392. + + Laertius, Diogenes, 390, 391. + + La Harpe, Jean Francois, on Plutarch, 301. + + Lamarck, theories, 166. + + Lamb, Charles, Carlyle's criticism, 196. + + Landor, Walter Savage, meeting Emerson, 63. + + Landscape, never painted, 339, 240. + (See _Pictures, etc_.) + + Language: + its symbolism, 95-97; + an original, 394. + + Latin: + Peter Bulkeley's scholarship, 7; + translation, 24, 25; + Emerson's Translations, 43, 44. + + Laud, Archbishop, 6. + + Law, William, mysticism, 396. + + Lawrence, Mass., allusion, 44. + + Lecturing, given up, 295. + (See _Emerson's Essays, Lectures_, etc.) + + Leibnitz, 386. + + Leroux, Pierre, preëxistance, 391. + + Letters, inspiration, 289. + + Lincoln, Abraham, character, 307. + (See _Emerson's Essays_.) + + Linnaeus, illustration, 323, 324. + + Litanies, in Emerson, 314. + (See _Episcopacy_.) + + Literature: + aptitude for, 2, 3; + activity in 1820, 147. + + Little Classics, edition, 347. + + Liverpool, Eng., a visit, 193, 194. + (See _England, Europe, Scotland_, etc.) + + Locke, John, allusion, 16, 111. + + London, England.: + Tower Stairs, 63; + readers, 194; + sights, 221; + travellers, 308; + wrath, 385. + (See _England_, etc.) + + Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth: + allusions, 31, 33; + Saturday Club, 222, 223; + burial, 346. + + Lord, Nathan, President of Dartmouth College, 132. + + Lord's Supper, Emerson's doubts, 57-61. + + Lothrop & Co., publishers, 83. + + Louisville, Ky., Dr. Clarke's residence, 78-80. + + Lounsbury, Professor, Chaucer letter, 205. + + Love: + in America, 143; + the Arch Abolitionist, 306. + (See _Emerson's Poems_.) + + Lowell, Charles: + minister of the West Church, 11, 12, 52; + on Kirkland, 27. + + Lowell, F.C., generosity, 276. + + Lowell, James Russell: + an allusion, 33; + on The American Scholar, 107; + editorship, 221; + club, 223; + on the Burns speech, 225; + on Emerson's bearing, 360, 361; + Hawthorne biography, 368; + on lectures, 379. + + Lowell, Mass., factories, 44. + + Luther, Martin: + lecture, 73; + his conservatism, 298; + times mentioned, 382. + + Lyceum, the: + a pulpit, 88; + New England, 192; + a sacrifice, 378. + (See _Lecturing, Emerson's Lectures_, etc.) + + Lycurgus, 306. (See _Greece_.) + + + Mackintosh, Sir James, an allusion, 16. + + Macmillan's Magazine, 414. + + Malden, Mass.: + Joseph Emerson's ministry, 8; + diary, 17. + + Man: + a fable about, 109, 110; + faith in, 122; + apostrophe, 140. + + Manchester, Eng.: + visit, 194, 195; + banquet, 220. + (See _England_, etc.) + + Marlowe, Christopher, expressions, 404. + + Marvell, Andrew: + reading by C.C. Emerson, 21; + on the Dutch, 217; + verse, 338. + + Mary, Queen, her martyrs, 418. + + Massachusetts Historical Society: + tribute to C.C. Emerson, 21; + quality of its literature, 84; + on Carlyle, 294. + + Massachusetts Quarterly Review, 193, 302, 307, 411. + Materialism, 146, 391. + (See _Religion_.) + + Mather, Cotton: + his Magnalia, 5-7; + on Concord discord, 57; + on New England Melancholy, 216; + a borrower, 381. + + Mathew, Father, disciples, 368. + + Mayhew, Jonathan, Boston minister, 51. + + Melioration, a characteristic expression, 405. + + Mendon, Mass., Joseph Emerson's ministry, 4. + + Mephistopheles, Goethe's creation, 208. + + Merrimac River, 71. + + Metaphysics, indifference to, 249. + + Methodism, in Boston, 56. + (See _Father Taylor_.) + + Michael Angelo: + allusions, 73, 75; + on external beauty, 99; + course, 260; + filled with God, 284; + on immortality, 290; + times mentioned, 382. + + Middlesex Agricultural Association, 235. + (See _Agriculture, Emerson's Essays._) + + Middlesex Association, Emerson admitted, 53. + + Miller's Retrospect, 34. + + Milton, John: + influence in New England, 16; + quotation, 24; + essay, 73, 75; + compared with Emerson, 76, 77; + Lycidas, 178; + supposed speech, 220; + diet, 270, 271; + poetic rank, 281; + Arnold's citation, Logic, Rhetoric, 315; + popularity, 316; + quoted, 324; + tin pans, 325; + inventor of harmonies, 328; + Lycidas, 333; + Comus, 338; + times mentioned, 382; + precursor, quotation, 415. + + Miracles: + false impression, 121, 122; + and idealism, 146; + theories, 191; + St. Januarius, 217; + objections, 244. + (See _Bible, Christ, Religion_, etc.) + + Modena, Italy, Emerson's visit, 63. + + Monadnoc, Mount, 70. + + Montaigne: + want of religion, 300; + great authority, 380; + times quoted, 382. + + Montesquieu, on immortality, 291. + + Monthly Anthology: + Wm. Emerson's connection, 13, 26; + precursor of North American Review, 28, 29; + character, 30, 31; + Quincy's tribute, 31; + Society formed, 32; + career, 33; + compared with The Dial, 160. + + Moody Family, of York, Me., 8,10. + + Morals, in Plutarch, 301. + + Morison, John Hopkins, on Emerson's preaching, 67. + + Mormons, 264, 268. + + Mother-wit, a favorite expression, 404, 405. + + Motley, John Lothrop, 33, 223. + + Mount Auburn, strolls, 40. + + Movement, party of the, 147. + + Munroe & Co., publishers, 81. + + Music: + church, 306; + inaptitude for, 361; + great composers, 401. + + Musketaquid River, 22, 70, 71. + + Mysticism: + unintelligible, 390; + Emerson's, 396. + + + Napoleon: + allusion, 197; + times mentioned, 382. + + Napoleon III., 225. + + Nation, The, Emerson's interest in, 348. + + Native Bias, 288. + + Nature: + in undress, 72; + solicitations, 110; + not truly studied, 135; + great men, 199; + tortured, 402. + (See _Emerson's Books, Emerson's Essays_, etc.) + + Negations, to be shunned, 285. + + New Bedford, Mass., Emerson's preaching, 52, 67. + + Newbury, Mass., Edward Emerson's deaconship, 8. + + New England: + families, 2, 3, 5; + Peter Bulkeley's coming, 6; + clerical virtues, 9; + Church, 14; + literary sky, 33; + domestic service, 34, 35; + two centres, 52; + an ideal town, 70, 71; + the Delphi, 72; + Carlyle invited, 83; + anniversaries, 84; + town records, 85; + Genesis, 102; + effect of Nature, 106; + boys and girls, 163; + Massachusetts, Connecticut River, 172; + lyceums, 192; + melancholy, 216; + New Englanders and Old, 220; + meaning of a word, 296, 297; + eyes, 325; + life, 325, 335; + birthright, 364; + a thorough New Englander, 406; + Puritan, 409; + theologians, 410; + Jesus wandering in, 419. + (See _America, England_, etc.) + + Newspapers: + defaming the noble, 145; + in Shakespeare's day, 204. + + Newton, Mass.: + its minister, 15; + Episcopal Church, 68. + (See _Rice_.) + + Newton, Sir Isaac, times quoted, 382. + + Newton, Stuart, sketches, 130. + + New World, gospel, 371. (See _America_.) + + New York: + Brevoort House, 246; + Genealogical Society, 413. + + Niagara, visit, 263. + + Nidiver, George, ballad, 259. + + Nightingale, Florence, 220. + + Nithsdale, Eng., mountains, 78. + + Non-Resistance, 141. + + North American Review: + its predecessor, 28, 29, 33; + the writers, 34; + Emerson's contributions, 73; + Ethics, 294, 295; + Bryant's article, 328. + + Northampton, Mass., Emerson's preaching, 53. + + Norton, Andrews: + literary rank, 34; + professorship, 52. + + Norton, Charles Eliot: + editor of Correspondence, 82; + on Emerson's genius, 373. + + + Old Manse, The: + allusion, 70; + fire, 271-279. + (See _Concord_.) + + Oliver, Daniel, in Dartmouth College, 132. + + Optimism: + in philosophy, 136; + "innocent luxuriance," 211; + wanted by the young, 373. + + Oriental: + genius, 120; + spirit in Emerson, 179. + + Orpheus, allusion, 319. + + + Paine, R.T., JR., quoted, 31. + + Palfrey, John Gorham: + literary rank, 34; + professorship, 52. + + Pan, the deity, 140. + + Pantheism: + in Wordsworth and Nature, 103; + dreaded, 141; + Emerson's, 410, 411. + + Paris, Trance: + as a residence, 78; + allusion, 167; + salons, 184; + visit, 196, 308. + + Parker, Theodore: + a right arm of freedom, 127; + at a party, 149; + The Dial, 159, 160; + editorship, 193; + death, 228; + essence of Christianity, 306; + biography, 368; + on Emerson's position, 411. + + Parkhurst, John, studied at Andover, 48. + + Parr, Samuel, allusion, 28. + + Past, party of the, 147. + + Peabody, Andrew Preston, literary rank, 34. + + Peabody, Elizabeth Palmer: + her Aesthetic Papers, 88; + letter to Mr. Ireland, 317. + + Peirce, Benjamin, mathematician, 223. + + Pelagianisin, 51. + (See _Religion_.) + + Pepys, Samuel, allusion, 12. + + Pericles, 184, 253. + + Persia, poetic models, 338. + (See _Emerson's Poems, Saadi_). + + Pessimism, 286. + (See _Optimism_). + + Philadelphia, Pa., society, 184. + + Philanthropy, activity in 1820, 147. + + Philolaus, 199. + + Pie, fondness for, 269. + + Pierce, John: + the minister of Brookline, 11; + "our clerical Pepys," 12. + + Pindar, odes, 253. + (See _Greek, Homer_, etc.) + + Plagiarism, 205, 206, 287, 288, 384. + (See _Quotations, Mather_, etc.) + + Plato: + influence on Mary Emerson, 16, 17; + over Emerson, 22, 52, 173, 188, 299, 301; + youthful essay, 74; + Alcott's study, 150; + reading, 197; + borrowed thought, 205, 206; + Platonic idea, 222; + a Platonist, 267; + saints of Platonism, 298; + academy inscription, 365; + great authority, 380; + times quoted, 382; + Symposium and Phaedrus quoted, 387; + _tableity_, preëxistence, 391; + Diogenes dialogue, 401; + a Platonist, 411. + (See _Emerson's Books_, and _Essays, Greek_, etc.) + + Plotinus: + influence over Mary Emerson, 16, 17; + ashamed of his body, 99; + motto, 105; + opinions, 173, 174; + studied, 380. + + Plutarch: + allusion, 22; + his Lives, 50; + study, 197; + on immortality, 291; + influence over Emerson, 299 _et seq_.; + his great authority, 380; + times mentioned, 382; + Emerson on, 383; + imagery quoted, 385; + style, 405. + + Plymouth, Mass.: + letters written, 78, 79; + marriage, 83. + + Poetry: + as an inspirer, 290; + Milton on, 315. + (See _Shakespeare_, etc.) + + Poets: + list in Parnassus, 281; + comparative popularity, 316, 317; + consulting Emerson, 408. + (See _Emerson's Poems_). + + Politics: + activity in 1820, 147; + in Saturday Club, 259. + + Pomeroy, Jesse, allusion, 393. + + Pope, Alexander, familiar lines, 316 + + Porphyry: + opinions, 173, 174; + studied, 380. + + Porto Rico, E.B. Emerson's death, 19. + + Power, practical, 259. + + Prayer: + not enough, 138, 139; + anecdotes, 267. + (See _God, Religion_, etc.) + + Preaching, a Christian blessing, 123. + Preëxistence, 391. + + Presbyterianism, in Scotland, 409. + + Prescott, William, the Judge's mansion, 38. + + Prescott, William Hickling: + rank, 33; + Conquest of Mexico, 38. + + Prior, Matthew, 30. + + Proclus, influence, 173, 380. + + Prometheus, 209. + + Prospects, for man, 101-103. + (See _Emerson's Essays_.) + + Protestantism, its idols, 28. + (See _Channing, Religion, Unitarianism_, etc.) + + Psammetichus, an original language, 394. + (See _Heredity, Language_, etc.) + + Punch, London, 204. + + Puritans, rear guard, 15. + (See _Calvinism_, etc.) + + Puritanism: + relaxation from, 30; + after-clap, 268; + in New England, 409. + (See _Unitarianism_.) + + Putnam's Magazine, on Samuel Hoar, 213, 214. + + Pythagoras: + imagery quoted, 385; + preëxistence, 391. + + + Quakers, seeing only broad-brims, 218. + + Quincy, Josiah: + History of Boston Athenaeum, 31; + tribute to the Anthology, 32, 33; + memories of Emerson, 45-47; + old age, 261. + + Quotations, 381-383. + (See _Plagiarism_, etc.) + + + Raleigh, Sir Walter, verse, 338. + + Raphael, his Transfiguration, 134. + (See _Allston, Painters_, etc.) + + Rats, illustration, 167, 168. + + Reed, Sampson, his Growth of the Mind, 80. + + Reforms, in America, 141-145. + + Reformers, fairness towards, 156, 157, 188-192. + (See _Anti-Slavery, John Brown_.) + + Religion: + opinions of Wm. Emerson and others, 11-13; + nature the symbol of spirit, 95; + pleas for independence, 117; + universal sentiment, 118-120; + public rites, 152; + Church of England, 219; + of the future, 235; + relative positions towards, 409, 410; + Trinity, 411; + Emerson's belief, 412-415; + bigotry modified, 414. + (See _Calvinism, Channing, Christ, Emerson's Life, Essays_, + and _Poems, Episcopacy, God, Unitarianism_, etc.) + + Republicanism, spiritual, 36. + + Revolutionary War: + Wm. Emerson's service, 8, 9; + subsequent confusion, 25, 32; + Concord's part, 71, 72, 292, 293. + (See _America, New England_, etc.) + + Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 228. + + Rhythm, 328, 329, 340. + (See _Emerson's Poems_, etc.) + + Rice, Alexander H., anecdote, 68, 69, 346. + (See _Newton_.) + + Richard Plantagenet, 197. + + Ripley, Ezra: + minister of Concord, 10; + Emerson's sketch, 14-16; + garden, 42; + colleague, 56; + residence, 70. + + Ripley, George: + a party, 149; + The Dial, 159; + Brook Farm, 164-166; + on Emerson's limitations, 380. + + Robinson, Edward, literary rank, 34. + + Rochester, N.Y., speech, 168. + + Rome: + allusions, 167, 168; + growth, 222; + amphora, 321. + (See _Latin_.) + + Romilly, Samuel, allusion, 220. + + Rose, anecdote, 345. + (See _Flowers_.) + + Rousseau, Jean Jacques, his Savoyard Vicar, 51, 52. + + Ruskin, John: + on metaphysics, 250; + certain chapters, 336; + pathetic fallacy, 337; + plagiarism, 384. + + Russell, Ben., quoted, 267. + + Russell, Le Baron: + on Sartor Resartus, 81, 82; + groomsman, 83; + aid in rebuilding the Old Manse, 272-279; + Concord visit, 345. + + + Saadi: a borrower, 205; + times mentioned, 382. + (See _Persia_.) + + Sabbath: a blessing of Christianity, 123, 298. + + Sainte-Beuve, Charles Augustin, on poetry, 339. + + Saint Paul, times mentioned, 382. + (See _Bible_.) + + Saladin, 184. + + Sallust, on Catiline, 207. + + Sanborn, Frank B.: + facts about Emerson, 42, 43, 66; + Thoreau memoir, 368; + old neighbor, 373. + + Sapor, 184. + + Satan, safety from, 306. + (See _Mephistopheles, Religion_, etc.) + + Saturday Club: + establishment, 221-223, 258; + last visits, 346, 347; + familiarity at, 368. + + Scaliger, quotation, 109, 110. + + Schelling, idealism, 148; + influence 173. + + Schiller, on immortality, 290. + + Scholarship: + a priesthood, 137; + docility of, 289. + + School-teaching, 297. + (See _Chelmsford_.) + + Schopenhauer, Arthur: + his pessimism, 286; + idea of a philosopher, 359. + + Science: + growth of, 148; + Emerson inaccurate in, 256; + attitude toward, 401, 402. + (See _C.C. Emerson_.) + + Scipio, 184. + + Scotland: + Carlyle's haunts, 79; + notabilities, 195, 196; + Presbyterian, 409. + + Scott, Sir Walter: + allusion, 22; + quotations, 23, 77; + dead, 63; + "the hand of Douglas," 234; + as a poet, 281; + popularity, 316; + poetic rank, 321. + + Self: + the highest, 113; + respect for, 288, 289. + + Seneca, Montaigne's study, 382. + + Shakespeare: + allusion, 22; + Hamlet, 90, 94; + Benedick and love, 106; + disputed line, 128, 129; + an idol, 197; + poetic rank, 202, 281, 320, 321; + plagiarism, 204-206; + on studies, 257, 258; + supremacy, 328; + a comparison, 374; + a playwright, 375, 376; + punctiliousness of Portia, 378; + times mentioned, 382; + lunatic, lover, poet, 387; + Polonius, 389; + _mother-wit_, 404; + _fine_ Ariel, 405; + adamant, 418. + + Shattuck, Lemuel, History of Concord, 382. + + Shaw, Lemuel, boarding-place, 43. + + Shelley, Percy Bysshe: + Ode to the West Wind, 316, 399; + redundant syllable, 328; + Adonais, 333. + + Shenandoah Mountain, 306. + + Shingle, Emerson's jest, 364. + + Ships: + illustration of longitude, 154; + erroneous quotation, 251, 252; + building illustration, 376, 377. + + Sicily: + Emerson's visit, 62; + Etna, 113. + + Sidney, Sir Philip, Chevy Chace, 379. + + Silsbee, William, aid in publishing Carlyle, 81. + + Simonides, prudence, 410. + + Sisyphus, illustration, 334. + + Sleight-of-hand, illustration, 332. + + Smith, James and Horace, Rejected Addresses, 387, 397. + + Smith, Sydney, on bishops, 219. + + Socrates: + allusion, 203; + times mentioned, 382. + + Solitude, sought, 135. + + Solomon, epigrammatic, 405. + (See _Bible_.) + + Solon, 199. + + Sophron, 199. + + South, the: + Emerson's preaching tour, 53; + Rebellion, 305, 407. + (See _America, Anti-Slavery_, etc.) + + Southerners, in college, 47. + + Sparks, Jared, literary rank, 33. + + Spenser, Edmund: + stanza, 335, 338; + soul making body, 391; + _mother-wit_, 404. + + Spinoza, influence, 173, 380. + + Spirit and matter, 100, 101. + (See _God, Religion, Spenser_, etc.) + + Spiritualism, 296. + + Sprague, William Buel, Annals of the American Pulpit, 10-12. + + Stanley, Arthur Penrhyn, on American religion, 414. + + Star: + "hitch your wagon to a star," 252, 253; + stars in poetry, 324. + + Sterling, J. Hutchinson, letter to, 282, 283. + + Stewart, Dugald, allusion, 16. + + Story, Joseph, literary rank, 33. + + Stuart, Moses, literary rank, 33. + + Studio, illustration, 20. + + Summer, description, 117. + + Sumner, Charles: + literary rank, 33: + the outrage on, 211; + Saturday Club, 223. + + Swedenborg, Emanuel: + poetic rank, 202, 320; + dreams, 306; + Rosetta-Stone, 322; + times mentioned, 382. + + Swedenborgians: + liking for a paper of Carlyle's, 78; + Reed's essay, 80; + spiritual influx, 412. + + Swift, Jonathan: + allusion, 30; + the Houyhnhnms, 163; + times mentioned, 382. + + Synagogue, illustration, 169. + + + Tappan, Mrs. Caroline, The Dial, 159. + + Tartuffe, allusion, 312. + + Taylor, Father, relation to Emerson, 55, 56, 413. + + Taylor, Jeremy: + allusion, 22; + Emerson's study, 52; + "the Shakespeare of divines," 94; + praise for, 306. + + Teague, Irish name, 143. + + Te Deum: + the hymn, 68; + illustration, 82. + + Temperance, the reform, 141, 152. + (See _Reforms_.) + + Tennyson, Alfred: + readers, 256; + tobacco, 270; + poetic rank, 281; + In Memoriam, 333; + on plagiarism, 384. + + Thacher, Samuel Cooper: + allusion, 26; + death, 29. + + Thayer, James B.: + Western Journey with Emerson, 249, 263, 265-271, 359; + _ground swell_, 364. + (See _California_.) + + Thinkers, let loose, 175. + + Thomson, James, descriptions, 338. + + Thoreau, Henry D.: + allusion, 22; + a Crusoe, 72; + "nullifier of civilization," 86; + one-apartment house, 142, 143; + The Dial, 159, 160; + death, 228; + Emerson's burial-place, 356; + biography, 368; + personality traceable, 389; + woodcraft, 403. + + Ticknor, George: + on William Emerson, 12; + on Kirkland, 27; + literary rank, 33. + + Traduction, 393. + (See _Heredity, Jonson_, etc.) + + Transcendentalism: + Bowen's paper, 103, 104; + idealism, 146; + adherents, 150-152; + dilettanteism, 152-155; + a terror, 161. + + Transcendentalist, The, 157-159. + + Truth: + as an end, 99; + sought, 135. + + Tudor, William: + allusion, 26; + connecting literary link, 28, 29. + + Turgot, quoted, 98, 99. + + Tyburn, allusion, 183. + + + Unitarianism: + Dr. Freeman's, 11, 12; + nature of Jesus, 13; + its sunshine, 28; + white-handed, 34; + headquarters, 35; + lingual studies, 48, 49; + transition, 51; + domination, 52; + pulpits, 53, 54; + chapel in Edinburgh, 65; + file-leaders, 118; + its organ, 124; + "pale negations," 298. + (See _Religion, Trinity_, etc.) + + United States, intellectual history, 32. + (See _America, New England_, etc.) + + Unity, in diversity, 73, 106, 284. + + Upham, Charles W., his History, 45. + + + Verne, Jules, _onditologie_, 186. + + Verplanck, Gulian Crommelin, literary rank, 33. + + Virginia, University of, 299. + + Volcano, illustration, 113. + + Voltaire, 409. + + Voting, done reluctantly, 152, 153. + + + Wachusett, Mount, 70. + + Walden Pond: + allusion, 22, 70, 72; + cabin, 142, 143. + (See _Concord_.) + + War: + outgrown, 88, 89; + ennobling, 298. + + Ware, Henry, professorship, 52. + (See _Harvard University_.) + + Ware, Henry, Jr.: + Boston ministry, 55; + correspondence, 124-127. + (See _Unitarianism_, etc.) + + Warren, John Collins, Transcendentalism and Temperance, 149. + + Warren, Judge, of New Bedford, 67. + + Warwick Castle, fire, 275. + + Washington City, addresses, 307. + (See _Anti-Slavery_, etc.) + + Waterville College, Adelphi Society, 135-142. + + Webster, Daniel: + E.B. Emerson's association with, 19; + on Tudor, 28, 29; + literary rank, 33; + Seventh-of-March Speech, 303; + times mentioned, 382. + + Weiss, John, Parker biography, 368. + + Wellington, Lord, seen by Emerson, 63, 64. + + Wesley, John, praise of, 306. + (See _Methodism_.) + + Western Messenger, poems in, 128. + + West India Islands, Edward B. Emerson's death, 89. + + Westminster Abbey, Emerson's visit, 63, 64. + (See _Emerson's Books_,--English Traits,--_England_, etc.) + + Westminster Catechism, 298. + (See _Calvinism, Religion_, etc.) + + Whipple, Edwin Percy: + literary rank, 33; + club, 223; + on heredity, 389. + + White of Selborne, 228. + + Whitman, Walt: + his enumerations, 325, 326; + journal, 344, 346. + + Wilberforce, William, funeral, 64. + + Will: + inspiration of, 289; + power of, 290. + + Windermere, Lake, 70. + (See _England_.) + + Winthrop, Francis William, in college, 45. + + Wolfe, Charles, Burial of Moore, 416. + + Woman: + her position, 212, 213, 251; + crossing a street, 364. + + Woman's Club, 16. + + Words, Emerson's favorite, 404, 405. + (See _Emerson's Poems_,--Days.) + + Wordsworth, William: + Emerson's account, 63; + early reception, Excursion, 92, 95; + quoted, 96, 97; + Tintern Abbey, 103; + influence, 148, 150; + poetic rank, 281, 321; + on Immortality, 293, 392; + popularity, 316; + serenity, 335; + study of nature, 337; + times mentioned, 382; + We are Seven, 393; + prejudice against science, 401. + + Wotton, Sir Henry, quoted, 259. + + + Yankee: + a spouting, 136; + _improve_, 176; + whittling, 364. + (See _America, New England_, etc.) + + Yoga, Hindoo idea, 397. + + Young, Brigham: + Utah, 264, 268; + on preëxistence, 391. + + Young, Edward, influence in New England, 16, 17. + + + Zola, Émile, offensive realism, 326. + + + + + + +OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE + +BY + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES + + + +To + +MY DAUGHTER AMELIA + +(MRS. TURNER SARGENT) + +MY FAITHFUL AND DEVOTED COMPANION + +THIS OUTLINE OF OUR SUMMER EXCURSION + +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED + + + +CONTENTS. + + +INTRODUCTORY + +A PROSPECTIVE VISIT + + + +OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. + +CHAPTER + +I. THE VOYAGE.--LIVERPOOL.--CHESTER.--LONDON.--EPSOM + +II. EPSOM.--LONDON.--WINDSOR + +III. LONDON.--ISLE OF WIGHT.--CAMBRIDGE.--OXFORD.--YORK.--EDINBURGH + +IV. STRATFORD-ON-AVON.--GREAT MALVERN.--TEWKESBURY.--BATH.--SALISBURY. +--STONEHENGE + +V. STONEHENGE.--SALISBURY.--OLD SARUM.--BEMERTON.--BRIGHTON + +VI. LONDON + +VII. BOULOGNE.--PARIS.--LONDON.--LIVERPOOL.--THE HOMEWARD PASSAGE + +VIII. GENERAL IMPRESSIONS.--MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES AT THE AGE OF 82. From a painting by Sarah W. +Whitman + +ROBERT BROWNING + +MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD + +SALISBURY CATHEDRAL + +PLACE DE LA CONCORDE + + + +INTRODUCTORY. + +A PROSPECTIVE VISIT. + + +After an interval of more than fifty years, I propose taking a second +look at some parts of Europe. It is a Rip Van Winkle experiment which I +am promising myself. The changes wrought by half a century in the +countries I visited amount almost to a transformation. I left the +England of William the Fourth, of the Duke of Wellington, of Sir Robert +Peel; the France of Louis Philippe, of Marshal Soult, of Thiers, of +Guizot. I went from Manchester to Liverpool by the new railroad, the +only one I saw in Europe. I looked upon England from the box of a +stage-coach, upon France from the coupé of a diligence, upon Italy from +the cushion of a carrozza. The broken windows of Apsley House were still +boarded up when I was in London. The asphalt pavement was not laid in +Paris. The Obelisk of Luxor was lying in its great boat in the Seine, as +I remember it. I did not see it erected; it must have been an exciting +scene to witness, the engineer standing underneath, so as to be crushed +by the great stone if it disgraced him by falling in the process. As for +the dynasties which have overlaid each other like Dr. Schliemann's +Trojan cities, there is no need of moralizing over a history which +instead of Finis is constantly ending with What next? + +With regard to the changes in the general conditions of society and the +advance in human knowledge, think for one moment what fifty years have +done! I have often imagined myself escorting some wise man of the past +to our Saturday Club, where we often have distinguished strangers as our +guests. Suppose there sat by me, I will not say Sir Isaac Newton, for he +has been too long away from us, but that other great man, whom Professor +Tyndall names as next to him in intellectual stature, as he passes along +the line of master minds of his country, from the days of Newton to our +own,--Dr. Thomas Young, who died in 1829. Would he or I be the listener, +if we were side by side? However humble I might feel in such a presence, +I should be so clad in the grandeur of the new discoveries, inventions, +ideas, I had to impart to him that I should seem to myself like the +ambassador of an Emperor. I should tell him of the ocean steamers, the +railroads that spread themselves like cobwebs over the civilized and +half-civilized portions of the earth, the telegraph and the telephone, +the photograph and the spectroscope. I should hand him a paper with the +morning news from London to read by the electric light, I should startle +him with a friction match, I should amaze him with the incredible truths +about anesthesia, I should astonish him with the later conclusions of +geology, I should dazzle him by the fully developed law of the +correlation of forces, I should delight him with the cell-doctrine, I +should confound him with the revolutionary apocalypse of Darwinism. All +this change in the aspects, position, beliefs, of humanity since the +time of Dr. Young's death, the date of my own graduation from college! + +I ought to consider myself highly favored to have lived through such a +half century. But it seems to me that in walking the streets of London +and Paris I shall revert to my student days, and appear to myself like a +relic of a former generation. Those who have been born into the +inheritance of the new civilization feel very differently about it from +those who have lived their way into it. To the young and those +approaching middle age all these innovations in life and thought are as +natural, as much a matter of course, as the air they breathe; they form +a part of the inner framework of their intelligence, about which their +mental life is organized. To men and women of more than threescore and +ten they are external accretions, like the shell of a mollusk, the +jointed plates of an articulate. This must be remembered in reading +anything written by those who knew the century in its teens; it is not +likely to be forgotten, for the fact betrays itself in all the writer's +thoughts and expressions. + +The story of my first visit to Europe is briefly this: my object was to +study the medical profession, chiefly in Paris, and I was in Europe +about two years and a half, from April, 1833, to October, 1835. I sailed +in the packet ship Philadelphia from New York for Portsmouth, where we +arrived after a passage of twenty-four days. A week was spent in +visiting Southampton, Salisbury, Stonehenge, Wilton, and the Isle of +Wight. I then crossed the Channel to Havre, from which I went to Paris. +In the spring and summer of 1834 I made my principal visit to England +and Scotland. There were other excursions to the Rhine and to Holland, +to Switzerland and to Italy, but of these I need say nothing here. I +returned in the packet ship Utica, sailing from Havre, and reaching New +York after a passage of forty-two days. + +A few notes from my recollections will serve to recall the period of my +first visit to Europe, and form a natural introduction to the +experiences of my second. I take those circumstances which happen to +suggest themselves. + +After a short excursion to Strasbourg, down the Rhine, and through +Holland, a small steamer took us from Rotterdam across the Channel, and +we found ourselves in the British capital. + +The great sight in London is--London. No man understands himself as an +infinitesimal until he has been a drop in that ocean, a grain of sand on +that sea-margin, a mote in its sunbeam, or the fog or smoke which stands +for it; in plainer phrase, a unit among its millions. + +I had two letters to persons in England: one to kind and worthy Mr. +Petty Vaughan, who asked me to dinner; one to pleasant Mr. William +Clift, conservator of the Hunterian Museum, who asked me to tea. + +To Westminster Abbey. What a pity it could not borrow from Paris the +towers of Notre Dame! But the glory of its interior made up for this +shortcoming. Among the monuments, one to Rear Admiral Charles Holmes, a +descendant, perhaps, of another namesake, immortalized by Dryden in the +"Annus Mirabilis" as + + "the Achates of the general's fight." + +He accompanied Wolfe in his expedition which resulted in the capture of +Quebec. My relative, I will take it for granted, as I find him in +Westminster Abbey. Blood is thicker than water,--and warmer than marble, +I said to myself, as I laid my hand on the cold stone image of the once +famous Admiral. + +To the Tower, to see the lions,--of all sorts. There I found a "poor +relation," who made my acquaintance without introduction. A large +baboon, or ape,--some creature of that family,--was sitting at the open +door of his cage, when I gave him offence by approaching too near and +inspecting him too narrowly. He made a spring at me, and if the keeper +had not pulled me back would have treated me unhandsomely, like a +quadrumanous rough, as he was. He succeeded in stripping my waistcoat of +its buttons, as one would strip a pea-pod of its peas. + +To Vauxhall Gardens. All Americans went there in those days, as they go +to Madame Tussaud's in these times. There were fireworks and an +exhibition of polar scenery. "Mr. Collins, the English PAGANINI," +treated us to music on his violin. A comic singer gave us a song, of +which I remember the line, + + "You'll find it all in the agony bill." + +This referred to a bill proposed by Sir Andrew Agnew, a noted Scotch +Sabbatarian agitator. + +To the opera to hear Grisi. The king, William the Fourth, was in his +box; also the Princess Victoria, with the Duchess of Kent. The king +tapped with his white-gloved hand on the ledge of the box when he was +pleased with the singing.--To a morning concert and heard the real +Paganini. To one of the lesser theatres and heard a monologue by the +elder Mathews, who died a year or two after this time. To another +theatre, where I saw Listen in Paul Pry. Is it not a relief that I am +abstaining from description of what everybody has heard described? + +To Windsor. Machinery to the left of the road. Recognized it instantly, +by recollection of the plate in "Rees's Cyclopedia," as Herschel's great +telescope.--Oxford. Saw only its outside. I knew no one there, and no +one knew me.--Blenheim,--the Titians best remembered of its objects on +exhibition. The great Derby day of the Epsom races. Went to the race +with a coach-load of friends and acquaintances. Plenipotentiary, the +winner, "rode by P. Connelly." So says Herring's picture of him, now +before me. Chestnut, a great "bullock" of a horse, who easily beat the +twenty-two that started. Every New England deacon ought to see one Derby +day to learn what sort of a world this is he lives in. Man is a sporting +as well as a praying animal. + +Stratford-on-Avon. Emotions, but no scribbling of name on +walls.--Warwick. The castle. A village festival, "The Opening of the +Meadows," a true exhibition of the semi-barbarism which had come down +from Saxon times.--Yorkshire. "The Hangman's Stone." Story told in my +book called the "Autocrat," etc. York Cathedral.--Northumberland. +Alnwick Castle. The figures on the walls which so frightened my man John +when he ran away from Scotland in his boyhood. Berwick-on-Tweed. A +regatta going on; a very pretty show. Scotland. Most to be remembered, +the incomparable loveliness of Edinburgh.--Sterling. The view of the +Links of Forth from the castle. The whole country full of the romance of +history and poetry. Made one acquaintance in Scotland, Dr. Robert Knox, +who asked my companion and myself to breakfast. I was treated to five +entertainments in Great Britain: the breakfast just mentioned; lunch +with Mrs. Macadam,--the good old lady gave me bread, and not a stone; +dinner with Mr. Vaughan; one with Mr. Stanley, the surgeon; tea with Mr. +Clift,--for all which attentions I was then and am still grateful, for +they were more than I had any claim to expect. Fascinated with +Edinburgh. Strolls by Salisbury Crag; climb to the top of Arthur's Seat; +delight of looking up at the grand old castle, of looking down on +Holyrood Palace, of watching the groups on Calton Hill, wandering in the +quaint old streets and sauntering on the sidewalks of the noble avenues, +even at that time adding beauty to the new city. The weeks I spent in +Edinburgh are among the most memorable of my European experiences. To +the Highlands, to the Lakes, in short excursions; to Glasgow, seen to +disadvantage under gray skies and with slippery pavements. Through +England rapidly to Dover and to Calais, where I found the name of M. +Dessein still belonging to the hotel I sought, and where I read Sterne's +"Preface Written in a Désobligeante," sitting in the vehicle most like +one that I could find in the stable. From Calais back to Paris, where I +began working again. + +All my travelling experiences, including a visit to Switzerland and +Italy in the summer and autumn of 1835, were merely interludes of my +student life in Paris. On my return to America, after a few years of +hospital and private practice, I became a Professor in Harvard +University, teaching Anatomy and Physiology, afterwards Anatomy alone, +for the period of thirty-five years, during part of which time I paid +some attention to literature, and became somewhat known as the author of +several works in prose and verse which have been well received. My +prospective visit will not be a professional one, as I resigned my +office in 1882, and am no longer known chiefly as a teacher or a +practitioner. + +BOSTON, _April_, 1886. + + + + +OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE + + +I. + + +I begin this record with the columnar, self-reliant capital letter to +signify that there is no disguise in its egoisms. If it were a chapter +of autobiography, this is what the reader would look for as a matter of +course. Let him consider it as being such a chapter, and its egoisms +will require no apology. + +I have called the record _our_ hundred days, because I was +accompanied by my daughter, without the aid of whose younger eyes and +livelier memory, and especially of her faithful diary, which no fatigue +or indisposition was allowed to interrupt, the whole experience would +have remained in my memory as a photograph out of focus. + +We left Boston on the 29th of April, 1886, and reached New York on the +29th of August, four months of absence in all, of which nearly three +weeks were taken up by the two passages; one week was spent in Paris, +and the rest of the time in England and Scotland. + +No one was so much surprised as myself at my undertaking this visit. Mr. +Gladstone, a strong man for his years, is reported as saying that he is +too old to travel, at least to cross the ocean, and he is younger than I +am,--just four months, to a day, younger. It is true that Sir Henry +Holland came to this country, and travelled freely about the world, +after he was eighty years old; but his pitcher went to the well once too +often, and met the usual doom of fragile articles. When my friends asked +me why I did not go to Europe, I reminded them of the fate of Thomas +Parr. He was only twice my age, and was getting on finely towards his +two hundredth year, when the Earl of Arundel carried him up to London, +and, being feasted and made a lion of, he found there a premature and +early grave at the age of only one hundred and fifty-two years. He lies +in Westminster Abbey, it is true, but he would probably have preferred +the upper side of his own hearth-stone to the under side of the slab +which covers him. + +I should never have thought of such an expedition if it had not been +suggested by a member of my family that I should accompany my daughter, +who was meditating a trip to Europe. I remembered how many friends had +told me I ought to go; among the rest, Mr. Emerson, who had spoken to me +repeatedly about it. I had not seen Europe for more than half a century, +and I had a certain longing for one more sight of the places I +remembered, and others it would be a delight to look upon. There were a +few living persons whom I wished to meet. I was assured that I should be +kindly received in England. All this was tempting enough, but there was +an obstacle in the way which I feared, and, as it proved, not without +good reason. I doubted whether I could possibly breathe in a narrow +state-room. In certain localities I have found myself liable to attacks +of asthma, and, although I had not had one for years, I felt sure that I +could not escape it if I tried to sleep in a state-room. + +I did not escape it, and I am glad to tell my story about it, because it +excuses some of my involuntary social shortcomings, and enables me to +thank collectively all those kind members of the profession who trained +all the artillery of the pharmacopoeia upon my troublesome enemy, from +bicarbonate of soda and Vichy water to arsenic and dynamite. One costly +contrivance, sent me by the Reverend Mr. Haweis, whom I have never duly +thanked for it, looked more like an angelic trump for me to blow in a +better world than what I believe it is, an inhaling tube intended to +prolong my mortal respiration. The best thing in my experience was +recommended to me by an old friend in London. It was Himrod's asthma +cure, one of the many powders, the smoke of which when burning is +inhaled. It is made in Providence, Rhode Island, and I had to go to +London to find it. It never failed to give at least temporary relief, +but nothing enabled me to sleep in my state-room, though I had it all to +myself, the upper berth being removed. After the first night and part of +the second, I never lay down at all while at sea. The captain allowed me +to have a candle and sit up in the saloon, where I worried through the +night as I best might. How could I be in a fit condition to accept the +attention of my friends in Liverpool, after sitting up every night for +more than a week; and how could I be in a mood for the catechizing of +interviewers, without having once lain down during the whole return +passage? I hope the reader will see why I mention these facts. They +explain and excuse many things; they have been alluded to, sometimes +with exaggeration, in the newspapers, and I could not tell my story +fairly without mentioning them. I got along well enough as soon as I +landed, and have had no return of the trouble since I have been back in +my own home. I will not advertise an assortment of asthma remedies for +sale, but I assure my kind friends I have had no use for any one of them +since I have walked the Boston pavements, drank, not the Cochituate, but +the Belmont spring water, and breathed the lusty air of my native +northeasters. + +My companion and I required an attendant, and we found one of those +useful androgynous personages known as _courier-maids_, who had +travelled with friends of ours, and who was ready to start with us at a +moment's warning. She was of English birth, lively, short-gaited, +serviceable, more especially in the first of her dual capacities. So far +as my wants were concerned, I found her zealous and active in providing +for my comfort. + +It was no sooner announced in the papers that I was going to England +than I began to hear of preparations to welcome me. An invitation to a +club meeting was cabled across the Atlantic. One of my countrywomen who +has a house in London made an engagement for me to meet friends at her +residence. A reverend friend, who thought I had certain projects in my +head, wrote to me about lecturing: where I should appear, what fees I +should obtain, and such business matters. I replied that I was going to +England to spend money, not to make it; to hear speeches, very possibly, +but not to make them; to revisit scenes I had known in my younger days; +to get a little change of my routine, which I certainly did; and to +enjoy a little rest, which I as certainly did not, at least in London. +In a word, I wished a short vacation, and had no thought of doing +anything more important than rubbing a little rust off and enjoying +myself, while at the same time I could make my companion's visit +somewhat pleasanter than it would be if she went without me. The visit +has answered most of its purposes for both of us, and if we have saved a +few recollections which our friends can take any pleasure in reading, +this slight record may be considered a work of supererogation. + +The Cephalonia was to sail at half past six in the morning, and at that +early hour a company of well-wishers was gathered on the wharf at East +Boston to bid us good-by. We took with us many tokens of their +thoughtful kindness; flowers and fruits from Boston and Cambridge, and a +basket of champagne from a Concord friend whose company is as +exhilarating as the sparkling wine he sent us. With the other gifts came +a small tin box, about as big as a common round wooden match box. I +supposed it to hold some pretty gimcrack, sent as a pleasant parting +token of remembrance. It proved to be a most valued daily companion, +useful at all times, never more so than when the winds were blowing hard +and the ship was struggling with the waves. There must have been some +magic secret in it, for I am sure that I looked five years younger after +closing that little box than when I opened it. Time will explain its +mysterious power. + +All the usual provisions for comfort made by seagoing experts we had +attended to. Impermeable rugs and fleecy shawls, head-gear to defy the +rudest northeasters, sea-chairs of ample dimensions, which we took care +to place in as sheltered situations as we could find,--all these were a +matter of course. Everybody stays on deck as much as possible, and lies +wrapped up and spread out at full length on his or her sea-chair, so +that the deck looks as if it had a row of mummies on exhibition. Nothing +is more comfortable, nothing, I should say, more indispensable, than a +hot-water bag,--or rather, _two_ hot-water bags; for they will +burst sometimes, as I found out, and a passenger who has become intimate +with one of these warm bosom friends feels its loss almost as if it were +human. + +Passengers carry all sorts of luxuries on board, in the firm faith that +they shall be able to profit by them all. Friends send them various +indigestibles. To many all these well-meant preparations soon become a +mockery, almost an insult. It is a clear case of _Sic(k) vos non +vobis_. The tougher neighbor is the gainer by these acts of kindness; +the generosity of a sea-sick sufferer in giving away the delicacies +which seemed so desirable on starting is not ranked very high on the +books of the recording angel. With us three things were best: grapes, +oranges, and especially oysters, of which we had provided a half barrel +in the shell. The "butcher" of the ship opened them fresh for us every +day, and they were more acceptable than anything else. + +Among our ship's company were a number of family relatives and +acquaintances. We formed a natural group at one of the tables, where we +met in more or less complete numbers. I myself never missed; my +companion, rarely. Others were sometimes absent, and sometimes came to +time when they were in a very doubtful state, looking as if they were +saying to themselves, with Lear,-- + + "Down, thou climbing sorrow, + Thy element's below." + +As for the intellectual condition of the passengers, I should say that +faces were prevailingly vacuous, their owners half hypnotized, as it +seemed, by the monotonous throb and tremor of the great sea-monster on +whose back we were riding. I myself had few thoughts, fancies, emotions. +One thing above all struck me as never before,--the terrible solitude of +the ocean. + + "So lonely 'twas that God himself + Scarce seemed there to be." + +Whole days passed without our seeing a single sail. The creatures of the +deep which gather around sailing vessels are perhaps frightened off by +the noise and stir of the steamship. At any rate, we saw nothing more +than a few porpoises, so far as I remember. + +No man can find himself over the abysses, the floor of which is paved +with wrecks and white with the bones of the shrieking myriads of human +beings whom the waves have swallowed up, without some thought of the +dread possibilities hanging over his fate. There is only one way to get +rid of them: that which an old sea-captain mentioned to me, namely, to +keep one's self under opiates until he wakes up in the harbor where he +is bound. I did not take this as serious advice, but its meaning is that +one who has all his senses about him cannot help being anxious. My old +friend, whose beard had been shaken in many a tempest, knew too well +that there is cause enough for anxiety. + +What does the reader suppose was the source of the most ominous thought +which forced itself upon my mind, as I walked the decks of the mighty +vessel? Not the sound of the rushing winds, nor the sight of the +foam-crested billows; not the sense of the awful imprisoned force which +was wrestling in the depths below me. The ship is made to struggle with +the elements, and the giant has been tamed to obedience, and is manacled +in bonds which an earthquake would hardly rend asunder. No! It was the +sight of the _boats_ hanging along at the sides of the deck,--the +boats, always suggesting the fearful possibility that before another day +dawns one may be tossing about in the watery Sahara, shelterless, +fireless, almost foodless, with a fate before him he dares not +contemplate. No doubt we should feel worse without the boats; still they +are dreadful tell-tales. To all who remember Géricault's Wreck of the +Medusa,--and those who have seen it do not forget it,--the picture the +mind draws is one it shudders at. To be sure, the poor wretches in the +painting were on a raft, but to think of fifty people in one of these +open boats! Let us go down into the cabin, where at least we shall not +see them. + +The first morning at sea revealed the mystery of the little round tin +box. The process of _shaving_, never a delightful one, is a very +unpleasant and awkward piece of business when the floor on which one +stands, the glass in which he looks, and he himself are all describing +those complex curves which make cycles and epicycles seem like +simplicity itself. The little box contained a reaping machine, which +gathered the capillary harvest of the past twenty-four hours with a +thoroughness, a rapidity, a security, and a facility which were a +surprise, almost a revelation. The idea of a guarded cutting edge is an +old one; I remember the "Plantagenet" razor, so called, with the +comb-like row of blunt teeth, leaving just enough of the edge free to do +its work. But this little affair had a blade only an inch and a half +long by three quarters of an inch wide. It had a long slender handle, +which took apart for packing, and was put together with the greatest +ease. It was, in short, a lawn-mower for the masculine growth of which +the proprietor wishes to rid his countenance. The mowing operation +required no glass, could be performed with almost reckless boldness, as +one cannot cut himself, and in fact had become a pleasant amusement +instead of an irksome task. I have never used any other means of shaving +from that day to this. I was so pleased with it that I exhibited it to +the distinguished tonsors of Burlington Arcade, half afraid they would +assassinate me for bringing in an innovation which bid fair to destroy +their business. They probably took me for an agent of the manufacturers; +and so I was, but not in their pay nor with their knowledge. I +determined to let other persons know what a convenience I had found the +"Star Razor" of Messrs. Kampf, of New York, without fear of reproach for +so doing. I know my danger,--does not Lord Byron say, "I have even been +accused of writing puffs for Warren's blacking"? I was once offered pay +for a poem in praise of a certain stove polish, but I declined. It is +pure good-will to my race which leads me to commend the Star Razor to +all who travel by land or by sea, as well as to all who stay at home. + +With the first sight of land many a passenger draws a long sigh of +relief. Yet everybody knows that the worst dangers begin after we have +got near enough to see the shore, for there are several ways of landing, +not all of which are equally desirable. On Saturday, May 8th, we first +caught a glimpse of the Irish coast, and at half past four in the +afternoon we reached the harbor of Queenstown. A tug came off, bringing +newspapers, letters, and so forth, among the rest some thirty letters +and telegrams for me. This did not look much like rest, but this was +only a slight prelude to what was to follow. I was in no condition to go +on shore for sight-seeing, as some of the passengers did. + +We made our way through the fog towards Liverpool, and arrived at 1.30, +on Sunday, May 9th. A special tug came to take us off: on it were the +American consul, Mr. Russell, the vice-consul, Mr. Sewall, Dr. Nevins, +and Mr. Rathbone, who came on behalf of our as yet unseen friend, Mr. +Willett, of Brighton, England. Our Liverpool friends were meditating +more hospitalities to us than, in our fatigued condition, we were equal +to supporting. They very kindly, however, acquiesced in our wishes, +which were for as much rest as we could possibly get before any attempt +to busy ourselves with social engagements. So they conveyed us to the +Grand Hotel for a short time, and then saw us safely off to the station +to take the train for Chester, where we arrived in due season, and soon +found ourselves comfortably established at the Grosvenor Arms Hotel. A +large basket of Surrey primroses was brought by Mr. Rathbone to my +companion. I had set before me at the hotel a very handsome floral harp, +which my friend's friend had offered me as a tribute. It made melody in +my ears as sweet as those hyacinths of Shelley's, the music of whose +bells was so + + "delicate, soft, and intense, + It was felt like an odor within the sense." + +At Chester we had the blissful security of being unknown, and were left +to ourselves. Americans know Chester better than most other old towns in +England, because they so frequently stop there awhile on their way from +Liverpool to London. It has a mouldy old cathedral, an old wall, partly +Roman, strange old houses with overhanging upper floors, which make +sheltered sidewalks and dark basements. When one sees an old house in +New England with the second floor projecting a foot or two beyond the +wall of the ground floor, the country boy will tell him that "them +haouses was built so th't th' folks upstairs could shoot the Injins when +they was tryin' to git threew th' door or int' th' winder." There are +plenty of such houses all over England, where there are no "Injins" to +shoot. But the story adds interest to the somewhat lean traditions of +our rather dreary past, and it is hardly worth while to disturb it. I +always heard it in my boyhood. Perhaps it is true; certainly it was a +very convenient arrangement for discouraging an untimely visit. The oval +lookouts in porches, common in our Essex County, have been said to +answer a similar purpose, that of warning against the intrusion of +undesirable visitors. The walk round the old wall of Chester is +wonderfully interesting and beautiful. At one part it overlooks a wide +level field, over which the annual races are run. I noticed that here as +elsewhere the short grass was starred with daisies. They are not +considered in place in a well-kept lawn. But remembering the cuckoo song +in "Love's Labour's Lost," "When daisies pied ... do paint the meadows +with delight," it was hard to look at them as unwelcome intruders. + +The old cathedral seemed to me particularly mouldy, and in fact too +high-flavored with antiquity. I could not help comparing some of the +ancient cathedrals and abbey churches to so many old cheeses. They have +a tough gray rind and a rich interior, which find food and lodging for +numerous tenants who live and die under their shelter or their +shadow,--lowly servitors some of them, portly dignitaries others, humble +holy ministers of religion many, I doubt not,--larvae of angels, who +will get their wings by and by. It is a shame to carry the comparison so +far, but it is natural enough; for Cheshire cheeses are among the first +things we think of as we enter that section of the country, and this +venerable cathedral is the first that greets the eyes of great numbers +of Americans. + +We drove out to Eaton Hall, the seat of the Duke of Westminster, the +many-millioned lord of a good part of London. It is a palace, +high-roofed, marble-columned, vast, magnificent, everything but +homelike, and perhaps homelike to persons born and bred in such +edifices. A painter like Paul Veronese finds a palace like this not too +grand for his banqueting scenes. But to those who live, as most of us +do, in houses of moderate dimensions, snug, comfortable, which the +owner's presence fills sufficiently, leaving room for a few visitors, a +vast marble palace is disheartening and uninviting. I never get into a +very large and lofty saloon without feeling as if I were a weak solution +of myself,--my personality almost drowned out in the flood of space +about me. The wigwam is more homelike than the cavern. Our wooden houses +are a better kind of wigwam; the marble palaces are artificial caverns, +vast, resonant, chilling, good to visit, not desirable to live in, for +most of us. One's individuality should betray itself in all that +surrounds him; he should _secrete_ his shell, like a mollusk; if he +can sprinkle a few pearls through it, so much the better. It is best, +perhaps, that one should avoid being a duke and living in a +palace,--that is, if he has his choice in the robing chamber where souls +are fitted with their earthly garments. + +One of the most interesting parts of my visit to Eaton Hall was my tour +through the stables. The Duke is a famous breeder and lover of the turf. +Mr. Rathbone and myself soon made the acquaintance of the chief of the +stable department. Readers of Homer do not want to be reminded that +_hippodamoio_, horse-subduer, is the genitive of an epithet applied +as a chief honor to the most illustrious heroes. It is the last word of +the last line of the Iliad, and fitly closes the account of the funeral +pageant of Hector, the tamer of horses. We Americans are a little shy of +confessing that any title or conventional grandeur makes an impression +upon us. If at home we wince before any official with a sense of +blighted inferiority, it is by general confession the clerk at the hotel +office. There is an excuse for this, inasmuch as he holds our destinies +in his hands, and decides whether, in case of accident, we shall have to +jump from the third or sixth story window. Lesser grandeurs do not find +us very impressible. There is, however, something about the man who +deals in horses which takes down the spirit, however proud, of him who +is unskilled in equestrian matters and unused to the horse-lover's +vocabulary. We followed the master of the stables, meekly listening and +once in a while questioning. I had to fall back on my reserves, and +summoned up memories half a century old to gain the respect and win the +confidence of the great horse-subduer. He showed us various fine +animals, some in their stalls, some outside of them. Chief of all was +the renowned Bend Or, a Derby winner, a noble and beautiful bay, +destined in a few weeks to gain new honors on the same turf in the +triumph of his offspring Ormonde, whose acquaintance we shall make +by-and-by. + +The next day, Tuesday, May 11th, at 4.25, we took the train for London. +We had a saloon car, which had been thoughtfully secured for us through +unseen, not unsuspected, agencies, which had also beautified the +compartment with flowers. + +Here are some of my first impressions of England as seen from the +carriage and from the cars.--How very English! I recall Birket Foster's +Pictures of English Landscape,--a beautiful, poetical series of views, +but hardly more poetical than the reality. How thoroughly England _is +groomed_! Our New England out-of-doors landscape often looks as if it +had just got out of bed, and had not finished its toilet. The glowing +green of everything strikes me: green hedges in place of our +rail-fences, always ugly, and our rude stone-walls, which are not +wanting in a certain look of fitness approaching to comeliness, and are +really picturesque when lichen-coated, but poor features of landscape as +compared to these universal hedges. I am disappointed in the trees, so +far; I have not seen one large tree as yet. Most of those I see are of +very moderate dimensions, feathered all the way up their long slender +trunks, with a lop-sided mop of leaves at the top, like a wig which has +slipped awry. I trust that I am not finding everything _couleur de +rose_; but I certainly do find the cheeks of children and young +persons of such brilliant rosy hue as I do not remember that I have ever +seen before. I am almost ready to think this and that child's face has +been colored from a pink saucer. If the Saxon youth exposed for sale at +Rome, in the days of Pope Gregory the Great, had complexions like these +children, no wonder that the pontiff exclaimed, Not _Angli_, but +_angeli_! All this may sound a little extravagant, but I am giving +my impressions without any intentional exaggeration. How far these first +impressions may be modified by after-experiences there will be time +enough to find out and to tell. It is better to set them down at once +just as they are. A first impression is one never to be repeated; the +second look will see much that was not noticed before, but it will not +reproduce the sharp lines of the _first proof_, which is always +interesting, no matter what the eye or the mind fixes upon. "I see men +as trees walking." That first experience could not be mended. When +Dickens landed in Boston, he was struck with the brightness of all the +objects he saw,--buildings, signs, and so forth. When I landed in +Liverpool, everything looked very dark, very dingy, very massive, in the +streets I drove through. So in London, but in a week it all seemed +natural enough. + +We got to the hotel where we had engaged quarters, at eleven o'clock in +the evening of Wednesday, the 12th of May. Everything was ready for +us,--a bright fire blazing and supper waiting. When we came to look at +the accommodations, we found they were not at all adapted to our needs. +It was impossible to stay there another night. So early the next morning +we sent out our courier-maid, a dove from the ark, to find us a place +where we could rest the soles of our feet. London is a nation of +something like four millions of inhabitants, and one does not feel easy +without he has an assured place of shelter. The dove flew all over the +habitable districts of the city,--inquired at as many as twenty houses. +No roosting-place for our little flock of three. At last the good angel +who followed us everywhere, in one shape or another, pointed the +wanderer to a place which corresponded with all our requirements and +wishes. This was at No. 17 Dover Street, Mackellar's Hotel, where we +found ourselves comfortably lodged and well cared for during the whole +time we were in London. It was close to Piccadilly and to Bond Street. +Near us, in the same range, were Brown's Hotel and Batt's Hotel, both +widely known to the temporary residents of London. + +We were but partially recovered from the fatigues and trials of the +voyage when our arrival pulled the string of the social shower-bath, and +the invitations began pouring down upon us so fast that we caught our +breath, and felt as if we should be smothered. The first evening saw us +at a great dinner-party at our well-remembered friend Lady Harcourt's. +Twenty guests, celebrities and agreeable persons, with or without +titles. The tables were radiant with silver, glistening with choice +porcelain, blazing with a grand show of tulips. This was our "baptism of +fire" in that long conflict which lasts through the London season. After +dinner came a grand reception, most interesting, but fatiguing to +persons hardly as yet in good condition for social service. We lived +through it, however, and enjoyed meeting so many friends, known and +unknown, who were very cordial and pleasant in their way of receiving +us. + +It was plain that we could not pretend to answer all the invitations +which flooded our tables. If we had attempted it, we should have found +no time for anything else. A secretary was evidently a matter of +immediate necessity. Through the kindness of Mrs. Pollock, we found a +young lady who was exactly fitted for the place. She was installed in +the little room intended for her, and began the work of accepting with +pleasure and regretting our inability, of acknowledging the receipt of +books, flowers, and other objects, and being very sorry that we could +not subscribe to this good object and attend that meeting in behalf of a +deserving charity,--in short, writing almost everything for us except +autographs, which I can warrant were always genuine. The poor young lady +was almost tired out sometimes, having to stay at her table, on one +occasion, so late as eleven in the evening, to get through her day's +work. I simplified matters for her by giving her a set of formulae as a +base to start from, and she proved very apt at the task of modifying +each particular letter to suit its purpose. + +From this time forward continued a perpetual round of social +engagements. Breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, teas, receptions with +spread tables, two, three, and four deep of an evening, with receiving +company at our own rooms, took up the day, so that we had very little +time for common sight-seeing. + +Of these kinds of entertainments, the breakfast, though pleasant enough +when the company is agreeable, as I always found it, is the least +convenient of all times and modes of visiting. You have already +interviewed one breakfast, and are expecting soon to be coquetting with +a tempting luncheon. If one had as many stomachs as a ruminant, he would +not mind three or four serious meals a day, not counting the tea as one +of them. The luncheon is a very convenient affair: it does not require +special dress; it is informal; it is soon over, and may be made light or +heavy, as one chooses. The afternoon tea is almost a necessity in London +life. It is considered useful as "a pick me up," and it serves an +admirable purpose in the social system. It costs the household hardly +any trouble or expense. It brings people together in the easiest +possible way, for ten minutes or an hour, just as their engagements or +fancies may settle it. A cup of tea at the right moment does for the +virtuous reveller all that Falstaff claims for a good sherris-sack, or +at least the first half of its "twofold operation:" "It ascends me into +the brain; dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapors +which environ it; makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of +nimble, fiery and delectable shapes, which delivered over to the voice, +the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit." + +But it must have the right brain to work upon, and I doubt if there is +any brain to which it is so congenial and from which it brings so much +as that of a first-rate London old lady. I came away from the great city +with the feeling that this most complex product of civilization was +nowhere else developed to such perfection. The octogenarian Londoness +has been in society,--let us say the highest society,--all her days. She +is as tough as an old macaw, or she would not have lasted so long. She +has seen and talked with all the celebrities of three generations, all +the beauties of at least half a dozen decades. Her wits have been kept +bright by constant use, and as she is free of speech it requires some +courage to face her. Yet nobody can be more agreeable, even to young +persons, than one of these precious old dowagers. A great beauty is +almost certainly thinking how she looks while one is talking with her; +an authoress is waiting to have one praise her book; but a grand old +lady, who loves London society, who lives in it, who understands young +people and all sorts of people, with her high-colored recollections of +the past and her grand-maternal interests in the new generation, is the +best of companions, especially over a cup of tea just strong enough to +stir up her talking ganglions. + +A breakfast, a lunch, a tea, is a circumstance, an occurrence, in social +life, but a dinner is an event. It is the full-blown flower of that +cultivated growth of which those lesser products are the buds. I will +not try to enumerate, still less to describe, the various entertainments +to which we were invited, and many of which we attended. Among the +professional friends I found or made during this visit to London, none +were more kindly attentive than Dr. Priestley, who, with his charming +wife, the daughter of the late Robert Chambers, took more pains to carry +out our wishes than we could have asked or hoped for. At his house I +first met Sir James Paget and Sir William Gull, long well known to me, +as to the medical profession everywhere, as preëminent in their several +departments. If I were an interviewer or a newspaper reporter, I should +be tempted to give the impression which the men and women of distinction +I met made upon me; but where all were cordial, where all made me feel +as nearly as they could that I belonged where I found myself, whether +the ceiling were a low or a lofty one, I do not care to differentiate my +hosts and my other friends. _Fortemque Gyan fortemque Cloanthum_, +--I left my microscope and my test-papers at home. + +Our friends, several of them, had a pleasant way of sending their +carriages to give us a drive in the Park, where, except in certain +permitted regions, the common numbered vehicles are not allowed to +enter. Lady Harcourt sent her carriage for us to go to her sister's, +Mrs. Mildmay's, where we had a pleasant little "tea," and met one of the +most agreeable and remarkable of those London old ladies I have spoken +of. For special occasions we hired an unnumbered carriage, with +professionally equipped driver and footman. + +Mrs. Bloomfield Moore sent her carriage for us to take us to a lunch at +her house, where we met Mr. Browning, Sir Henry and Lady Layard, Oscar +Wilde and his handsome wife, and other well-known guests. After lunch, +recitations, songs, etc. House full of pretty things. Among other +curiosities a portfolio of drawings illustrating Keeley's motor, which, +up to this time, has manifested a remarkably powerful _vis +inertice_, but which promises miracles. In the evening a grand +reception at Lady Granville's, beginning (for us, at least) at eleven +o'clock. The house a palace, and A---- thinks there were a thousand +people there. We made the tour of the rooms, saw many great personages, +had to wait for our carriage a long time, but got home at one o'clock. + +English people have queer notions about iced-water and ice-cream. "You +will surely die, eating such cold stuff," said a lady to my companion. +"Oh, no," she answered, "but I should certainly die were I to drink your +two cups of strong tea." I approved of this "counter" on the teacup, but +I did not think either of them was in much danger. + +The next day Rev. Mr. Haweis sent his carriage, and we drove in the +Park. In the afternoon we went to our Minister's to see the American +ladies who had been presented at the drawing-room. After this, both of +us were glad to pass a day or two in comparative quiet, except that we +had a room full of visitors. So many persons expressed a desire to make +our acquaintance that we thought it would be acceptable to them if we +would give a reception ourselves. We were thinking how we could manage +it with our rooms at the hotel, which were not arranged so that they +could be thrown together. Still, we were planning to make the best of +them, when Dr. and Mrs. Priestley suggested that we should receive our +company at their house. This was a surprise, and a most welcome one, and +A---- and her kind friend busied themselves at once about the +arrangements. + +We went to a luncheon at Lansdowne House, Lord Rosebery's residence, not +far from our hotel. My companion tells a little incident which may +please an American six-year-old: "The eldest of the four children, +Sibyl, a pretty, bright child of six, told me that she wrote a letter to +the Queen. I said, 'Did you begin, Dear Queen?' 'No,' she answered, 'I +began, Your Majesty, and signed myself, Your little humble servant, +Sibyl.'" A very cordial and homelike reception at this great house, +where a couple of hours were passed most agreeably. + +On the following Sunday I went to Westminster Abbey to hear a sermon +from Canon Harford on A Cheerful Life. A lively, wholesome, and +encouraging discourse, such as it would do many a forlorn New England +congregation good to hear. In the afternoon we both went together to the +Abbey. Met our Beverly neighbor, Mrs. Vaughan, and adopted her as one of +our party. The seats we were to have were full, and we had to be stowed +where there was any place that would hold us. I was smuggled into a +stall, going through long and narrow passages, between crowded rows of +people, and found myself at last with a big book before me and a set of +official personages around me, whose duties I did not clearly +understand. I thought they might be mutes, or something of that sort, +salaried to look grave and keep quiet. After service we took tea with +Dean Bradley, and after tea we visited the Jerusalem Chamber. I had been +twice invited to weddings in that famous room: once to the marriage of +my friend Motley's daughter, then to that of Mr. Frederick Locker's +daughter to Lionel Tennyson, whose recent death has been so deeply +mourned. I never expected to see that Jerusalem in which Harry the +Fourth died, but there I found myself in the large panelled chamber, +with all its associations. The older memories came up but vaguely; an +American finds it as hard to call back anything over two or three +centuries old as a sucking-pump to draw up water from a depth of over +thirty-three feet and a fraction. After this A---- went to a musical +party, dined with the Vaughans, and had a good time among American +friends. + +The next evening we went to the Lyceum Theatre to see Mr. Irving. He had +placed the Royal box at our disposal, so we invited our friends the +Priestleys to go with us, and we all enjoyed the evening mightily. +Between the scenes we went behind the curtain, and saw the very curious +and admirable machinery of the dramatic spectacle. We made the +acquaintance of several imps and demons, who were got up wonderfully +well. Ellen Terry was as fascinating as ever. I remembered that once +before I had met her and Mr. Irving behind the scenes. It was at the +Boston Theatre, and while I was talking with them a very heavy piece of +scenery came crashing down, and filled the whole place with dust. It was +but a short distance from where we were standing, and I could not help +thinking how near our several life-dramas came to a simultaneous +_exeunt omnes_. + +A long visit from a polite interviewer, shopping, driving, calling, +arranging about the people to be invited to our reception, and an +agreeable dinner at Chelsea with my American friend, Mrs. Merritt, +filled up this day full enough, and left us in good condition for the +next, which was to be a very busy one. + +In the Introduction to these papers, I mentioned the fact that more than +half a century ago I went to the famous Derby race at Epsom. I +determined, if possible, to see the Derby of 1886, as I had seen that of +1834. I must have spoken of this intention to some interviewer, for I +find the following paragraph in an English sporting newspaper, "The +Field," for May 29th, 1886:-- + +"The Derby has always been the one event in the racing year which +statesmen, philosophers, poets, essayists, and _littérateurs_ +desire to see once in their lives. A few years since Mr. Gladstone was +induced by Lord Granville and Lord Wolverton to run down to Epsom on the +Derby day. The impression produced upon the Prime Minister's sensitive +and emotional mind was that the mirth and hilarity displayed by his +compatriots upon Epsom race-course was Italian rather than English in +its character. On the other hand, Gustave Doré, who also saw the Derby +for the first and only time in his life, exclaimed, as he gazed with +horror upon the faces below him, _Quelle scène brutale!_ We wonder +to which of these two impressions Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes inclined, if +he went last Wednesday to Epsom! Probably the well-known, etc., etc.--Of +one thing Dr. Holmes may rest finally satisfied: the Derby of 1886 may +possibly have seemed to him far less exciting than that of 1834; but +neither in 1834 nor in any other year was the great race ever won by a +better sportsman or more honorable man than the Duke of Westminster." + +My desire to see the Derby of this year was of the same origin and +character as that which led me to revisit many scenes which I +remembered. I cared quite as much about renewing old impressions as +about getting new ones. I enjoyed everything which I had once seen all +the more from the blending of my recollections with the present as it +was before me. + +The Derby day of 1834 was exceedingly windy and dusty. Our party, riding +on the outside of the coach, was half smothered with the dust, and +arrived in a very deteriorated condition, but recompensed for it by the +extraordinary sights we had witnessed. There was no train in those days, +and the whole road between London and Epsom was choked with vehicles of +all kinds, from four-in-hands to donkey-carts and wheelbarrows. My +friends and I mingled freely in the crowds, and saw all the "humours" of +the occasion. The thimble-riggers were out in great force, with their +light, movable tables, the cups or thimbles, and the "little jokers," +and the coachman, the sham gentleman, the country greenhorn, all +properly got up and gathered about the table. I think we had "Aunt +Sally," too,--the figure with a pipe in her mouth, which one might shy a +stick at for a penny or two and win something, I forget what. The +clearing the course of stragglers, and the chasing about of the +frightened little dog who had got in between the thick ranks of +spectators, reminded me of what I used to see on old "artillery +election" days. + +It was no common race that I went to see in 1834. "It is asserted in the +columns of a contemporary that Plenipotentiary was absolutely the best +horse of the century." This was the winner of the race I saw so long +ago. Herring's colored portrait, which I have always kept, shows him as +a great, powerful chestnut horse, well deserving the name of "bullock," +which one of the jockeys applied to him. "Rumor credits Dr. Holmes," so +"The Field" says, "with desiring mentally to compare his two Derbies +with each other." I was most fortunate in my objects of comparison. The +horse I was about to see win was not unworthy of being named with the +renowned champion of my earlier day. I quote from a writer in the +"London Morning Post," whose words, it will be seen, carry authority +with them:-- + +"Deep as has hitherto been my reverence for Plenipotentiary, Bay +Middleton, and Queen of Trumps from hearsay, and for Don John, Crucifix, +etc., etc., from my own personal knowledge, I am inclined to award the +palm to Ormonde as the best three-year-old I have ever seen during close +upon half a century's connection with the turf." + +Ormonde, the Duke of Westminster's horse, was the son of that other +winner of the Derby, Bend Or, whom I saw at Eaton Hall. + +Perhaps some coeval of mine may think it was a rather youthful idea to +go to the race. I cannot help that. I was off on my first long vacation +for half a century, and had a right to my whims and fancies. But it was +one thing to go in with a vast crowd at five and twenty, and another +thing to run the risks of the excursion at more than thrice that age. I +looked about me for means of going safely, and could think of nothing +better than to ask one of the pleasantest and kindest of gentlemen, to +whom I had a letter from Mr. Winthrop, at whose house I had had the +pleasure of making his acquaintance. Lord Rosebery suggested that the +best way would be for me to go in the special train which was to carry +the Prince of Wales. First, then, I was to be introduced to his Royal +Highness, which office was kindly undertaken by our very obliging and +courteous Minister, Mr. Phelps. After this all was easily arranged, and +I was cared for as well as if I had been Mr. Phelps himself. On the +grand stand I found myself in the midst of the great people, who were +all very natural, and as much at their ease as the rest of the world. +The Prince is of a lively temperament and a very cheerful aspect,--a +young girl would call him "jolly" as well as "nice." I recall the story +of "Mr. Pope" and his Prince of Wales, as told by Horace Walpole. "Mr. +Pope, you don't love princes." "Sir, I beg your pardon." "Well, you +don't love kings, then." "Sir, I own I love the lion best before his +claws are grown." Certainly, nothing in Prince Albert Edward suggests +any aggressive weapons or tendencies. The lovely, youthful-looking, +gracious Alexandra, the always affable and amiable Princess Louise, the +tall youth who sees the crown and sceptre afar off in his dreams, the +slips of girls so like many school misses we left behind us,--all these +grand personages, not being on exhibition, but off enjoying themselves, +just as I was and as other people were, seemed very much like their +fellow-mortals. It is really easier to feel at home with the highest +people in the land than with the awkward commoner who was knighted +yesterday. When "My Lord and Sir Paul" came into the Club which +Goldsmith tells us of, the hilarity of the evening was instantly +checked. The entrance of a dignitary like the present Prince of Wales +would not have spoiled the fun of the evening. If there is any one +accomplishment specially belonging to princes, it is that of making the +persons they meet feel at ease. + +The grand stand to which I was admitted was a little privileged +republic. I remember Thackeray's story of his asking some simple +question of a royal or semi-royal personage whom he met in the courtyard +of an hotel, which question his Highness did not answer, but called a +subordinate to answer for him. I had been talking some time with a tall, +good-looking gentleman, whom I took for a nobleman to whom I had been +introduced. Something led me to think I was mistaken in the identity of +this gentleman. I asked him, at last, if he were not So and So. "No," he +said, "I am Prince Christian." You are a Christian prince, anyhow, I +said to myself, if I may judge by your manners. + +I once made a similar mistake in addressing a young fellow-citizen of +some social pretensions. I apologized for my error. + +"No offence," he answered. + +_Offence_ indeed! I should hope not. But he had not the "_manière +de prince_", or he would never have used that word. + +I must say something about the race I had taken so much pains to see. +There was a preliminary race, which excited comparatively little +interest. After this the horses were shown in the paddock, and many of +our privileged party went down from the stand to look at them. Then they +were brought out, smooth, shining, fine-drawn, frisky, spirit-stirring +to look upon,--most beautiful of all the bay horse Ormonde, who could +hardly be restrained, such was his eagerness for action. The horses +disappear in the distance.--They are off,--not yet distinguishable, at +least to me. A little waiting time, and they swim into our ken, but in +what order of precedence it is as yet not easy to say. Here they come! +Two horses have emerged from the ruck, and are sweeping, rushing, +storming, towards us, almost side by side. One slides by the other, half +a length, a length, a length and a half. Those are Archer's colors, and +the beautiful bay Ormonde flashes by the line, winner of the Derby of +1886. "The Bard" has made a good fight for the first place, and comes in +second. Poor Archer, the king of the jockeys! He will bestride no more +Derby winners. A few weeks later he died by his own hand. + +While the race was going on, the yells of the betting crowd beneath us +were incessant. It must have been the frantic cries and movements of +these people that caused Gustave Doré to characterize it as a brutal +scene. The vast mob which thronged the wide space beyond the shouting +circle just round us was much like that of any other fair, so far as I +could see from my royal perch. The most conspicuous object was a man on +an immensely tall pair of stilts, stalking about among the crowd. I +think it probable that I had as much enjoyment in forming one of the +great mob in 1834 as I had among the grandeurs in 1886, but the last is +pleasanter to remember and especially to tell of. + +After the race we had a luncheon served us, a comfortable and +substantial one, which was very far from unwelcome. I did not go to the +Derby to bet on the winner. But as I went in to luncheon, I passed a +gentleman standing in custody of a plate half covered with sovereigns. +He politely asked me if I would take a little paper from a heap there +was lying by the plate, and add a sovereign to the collection already +there. I did so, and, unfolding my paper, found it was a blank, and +passed on. The pool, as I afterwards learned, fell to the lot of the +Turkish Ambassador. I found it very windy and uncomfortable on the more +exposed parts of the grand stand, and was glad that I had taken a shawl +with me, in which I wrapped myself as if I had been on shipboard. This, +I told my English friends, was the more civilized form of the Indian's +blanket. My report of the weather does not say much for the English May, +but it is generally agreed upon that this is a backward and unpleasant +spring. + +After my return from the race we went to a large dinner at Mr. Phelps's +house, where we met Mr. Browning again, and the Lord Chancellor +Herschell, among others. Then to Mrs. Cyril Flower's, one of the most +sumptuous houses in London; and after that to Lady Rothschild's, another +of the private palaces, with ceilings lofty as firmaments, and walls +that might have been copied from the New Jerusalem. There was still +another great and splendid reception at Lady Dalhousie's, and a party at +Mrs. Smith's, but we were both tired enough to be willing to go home +after what may be called a pretty good day's work at enjoying ourselves. + +We had been a fortnight in London, and were now inextricably entangled +in the meshes of the golden web of London social life. + + + + +II. + + +The reader who glances over these papers, and, finding them too full of +small details and the lesser personal matters which belong naturally to +private correspondences, turns impatiently from them, has my entire +sympathy and good-will. He is not one of those for whom these pages are +meant. Having no particular interest in the writer or his affairs, he +does not care for the history of "the migrations from the blue bed to +the brown" and the many Mistress Quicklyisms of circumstantial +narrative. Yet all this may be pleasant reading to relatives and +friends. + +But I must not forget that a new generation of readers has come into +being since I have been writing for the public, and that a new +generation of aspiring and brilliant authors has grown into general +recognition. The dome of Boston State House, which is the centre of my +little universe, was glittering in its fresh golden pellicle before I +had reached the scriptural boundary of life. It has lost its lustre now, +and the years which have dulled its surface have whitened the dome of +that fragile structure in which my consciousness holds the session of +its faculties. Time is not to be cheated. It is easy to talk of +perennial youth, and to toy with the flattering fictions which every +ancient personage accepts as true so far as he himself is concerned, and +laughs at as foolish talk when he hears them applied to others. When, in +my exulting immaturity, I wrote the lines not unknown to the reading +public under the name of "The Last Leaf", I spoke of the possibility +that I myself might linger on the old bough until the buds and blossoms +of a new spring were opening and spreading all around me. I am not as +yet the solitary survivor of my literary contemporaries, and, +remembering who my few coevals are, it may well be hoped that I shall +not be. But I feel lonely, very lonely, in the pages through which I +wander. These are new names in the midst of which I find my own. In +another sense I am very far from alone. I have daily assurances that I +have a constituency of known and unknown personal friends, whose +indulgence I have no need of asking. I know there are readers enough who +will be pleased to follow me in my brief excursion, _because I am +myself_, and will demand no better reason. If I choose to write for +them, I do no injury to those for whom my personality is an object of +indifference. They will find on every shelf some publications which are +not intended for them, and which they prefer to let alone. No person is +expected to help himself to everything set before him at a public table. +I will not, therefore, hesitate to go on with the simple story of our +Old World experiences. + +Thanks to my Indian blanket,--my shawl, I mean,--I found myself nothing +the worse for my manifold adventures of the 27th of May. The cold wind +sweeping over Epsom downs reminded me of our own chilling easterly +breezes; especially the northeasterly ones, which are to me less +disagreeable than the southeasterly. But the poetical illusion about an +English May,-- + + "Zephyr with Aurora playing, + As he met her once a-Maying,"-- + +and all that, received a shrewd thrust. Zephyr ought to have come in an +ulster, and offered Aurora a warm petticoat. However, in spite of all +difficulties, I brought off my recollections of the Derby of 1886 in +triumph, and am now waiting for the colored portrait of Ormonde with +Archer on his back,--Archer, the winner of five Derby races, one of +which was won by the American horse Iroquois. When that picture, which I +am daily expecting, arrives, I shall have it framed and hung by the side +of Herring's picture of Plenipotentiary, the horse I saw win the Derby +in 1834. These two, with an old portrait of the great Eclipse, who, as +my engraving of 1780 (Stubbs's) says, "was never beat, or ever had +occation for Whip or Spur," will constitute my entire sporting gallery. +I have not that vicious and demoralizing love of horse-flesh which makes +it next to impossible to find a perfectly honest hippophile. But a racer +is the realization of an ideal quadruped,-- + + "A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift;" + +so ethereal, so bird-like, that it is no wonder that the horse about +whom those old story-tellers lied so stoutly,--telling of his running a +mile in a minute,--was called Flying Childers. + +The roses in Mrs. Pfeiffer's garden were hardly out of flower when I +lunched with her at her pretty villa at Putney. There I met Mr. +Browning, Mr. Holman Hunt, Mrs. Ritchie, Miss Anna Swanwick, the +translator of Æschylus, and other good company, besides that of my +entertainer. + +One of my very agreeable experiences was a call from a gentleman with +whom I had corresponded, but whom I had never met. This was Mr. John +Bellows, of Gloucester, publisher, printer, man of letters, or rather of +words; for he is the author of that truly remarkable little manual, "The +Bona Fide Pocket Dictionary of the French and English Languages." To the +review of this little book, which is dedicated to Prince Lucien +Bonaparte, the "London Times" devoted a full column. I never heard any +one who had used it speak of it except with admiration. The modest +Friend may be surprised to find himself at full length in my pages, but +those who know the little miracle of typography, its conciseness, +completeness, arrangement, will not wonder that I was gratified to see +the author, who sent it to me, and who has written me most interesting +letters on the local antiquities of Gloucester and its neighborhood. + +We lunched that day at Lady Camperdown's, where we were happy to meet +Miss Frances Power Cobbe. In the afternoon we went by invitation to a +"tea and talk" at the Reverend Mr. Haweis's, at Chelsea. We found the +house close packed, but managed to get through the rooms, shaking +innumerable hands of the reverend gentleman's parishioners and other +visitors. It was very well arranged, so as not to be too fatiguing, and +we left the cordial gathering in good condition. We drove home with +Bishop and Mrs. Ellicott. + +After this Sir James Paget called, and took me to a small and early +dinner-party; and A---- went with my secretary, the young lady of whom I +have spoken, to see "Human Nature," at Drury Lane Theatre. + +On the following day, after dining with Lady Holland (wife of Sir Henry, +niece of Macaulay), we went across the street to our neighbor's, Lady +Stanley's. There was to be a great meeting of schoolmistresses, in whose +work her son, the Honorable Lyulph Stanley, is deeply interested. Alas! +The schoolma'ams were just leaving as we entered the door, and all we +saw of them was the trail of their descending robes. I was very sorry +for this, for I have a good many friends among our own schoolmistresses, +--friends whom I never saw, but know through the kind words they have +addressed to me. + +No place in London looks more reserved and exclusive than Devonshire +House, standing back behind its high wall, extending along Piccadilly. +There is certainly nothing in its exterior which invites intrusion. We +had the pleasure of taking tea in the great house, accompanying our +American friend, Lady Harcourt, and were graciously received and +entertained by Lady Edward Cavendish. Like the other great houses, it is +a museum of paintings, statues, objects of interest of all sorts. It +must be confessed that it is pleasanter to go through the rooms with one +of the ladies of the household than under the lead of a liveried +servant. Lord Hartington came in while we were there. All the men who +are distinguished in political life become so familiar to the readers of +"Punch" in their caricatures, that we know them at sight. Even those who +can claim no such public distinction are occasionally the subjects of +the caricaturist, as some of us have found out for ourselves. A good +caricature, which seizes the prominent features and gives them the +character Nature hinted, but did not fully carry out, is a work of +genius. Nature herself is a remorseless caricaturist, as our daily +intercourse with our fellow men and women makes evident to us, and as is +curiously illustrated in the figures of Charles Lebrun, showing the +relations between certain human faces and those of various animals. +Hardly an English statesman in bodily presence could be mistaken by any +of "Punch's" readers. + +On the same day that we made this quiet visit we attended a great and +ceremonious assembly. There were two parts in the programme, in the +first of which I was on the stage _solus_,--that is, without my +companion; in the second we were together. This day, Saturday, the 29th +of May, was observed as the Queen's birthday, although she was born on +the 24th. Sir William Harcourt gave a great dinner to the officials of +his department, and later in the evening Lady Rosebery held a reception +at the Foreign Office. On both these occasions everybody is expected to +be in court dress, but my host told me I might present myself in +ordinary evening dress. I thought that I might feel awkwardly among so +many guests, all in the wedding garments, knee-breeches and the rest, +without which I ventured among them. I never passed an easier evening in +any company than among these official personages. Sir William took me +under the shield of his ample presence, and answered all my questions +about the various notable personages at his table in a way to have made +my fortune if I had been a reporter. From the dinner I went to Mrs. +Gladstone's, at 10 Downing Street, where A---- called for me. She had +found a very small and distinguished company there, Prince Albert Victor +among the rest. At half past eleven we walked over to the Foreign Office +to Lady Rosebery's reception. + +Here Mr. Gladstone was of course the centre of a group, to which I was +glad to add myself. His features are almost as familiar to me as my own, +for a photograph of him in his library has long stood on my revolving +bookcase, with a large lens before it. He is one of a small circle of +individuals in whom I have had and still have a special personal +interest. The year 1809, which introduced me to atmospheric existence, +was the birth-year of Gladstone, Tennyson, Lord Houghton, and Darwin. It +seems like an honor to have come into the world in such company, but it +is more likely to promote humility than vanity in a common mortal to +find himself coeval with such illustrious personages. Men born in the +same year watch each other, especially as the sands of life begin to run +low, as we can imagine so many damaged hour-glasses to keep an eye on +each other. Women, of course, never know who are their contemporaries. + +Familiar to me as were the features of Mr. Gladstone, I looked upon him +with astonishment. For he stood before me with epaulets on his shoulders +and a rapier at his side, as military in his aspect as if he had been +Lord Wolseley, to whom I was introduced a short time afterwards. I was +fortunate enough to see and hear Mr. Gladstone on a still more memorable +occasion, and can afford to leave saying what were my impressions of the +very eminent statesman until I speak of that occasion. + +A great number of invitations had been given out for the reception at +Lady Rosebery's,--over two thousand, my companion heard it said. +Whatever the number was, the crowd was very great,--so great that one +might well feel alarmed for the safety of any delicate person who was in +the _pack_ which formed itself at one place in the course of the +evening. Some obstruction must have existed _a fronte_, and the +_vis a tergo_ became fearful in its pressure on those who were +caught in the jam. I began thinking of the crushes in which I had been +caught, or which I had read and heard of: the terrible time at the +execution of Holloway and Haggerty, where some forty persons were +squeezed or trampled to death; the Brooklyn Theatre and other similar +tragedies; the crowd I was in at the unveiling of the statue on the +column of the Place Vendome, where I felt as one may suppose Giles Corey +did when, in his misery, he called for "more weight" to finish him. But +there was always a _deus ex machina_ for us when we were in +trouble. Looming up above the crowd was the smiling and encouraging +countenance of the ever active, always present, always helpful Mr. +Smalley. He cleared a breathing space before us. For a short time it was +really a formidable wedging together of people, and if a lady had +fainted in the press, she might have run a serious risk before she could +have been extricated. No more "marble halls" for us, if we had to +undergo the _peine forte et dure_ as the condition of our presence! +We were both glad to escape from this threatened asphyxia, and move +freely about the noble apartments. Lady Rosebery, who was kindness +itself, would have had us stay and sit down in comfort at the +supper-table, after the crowd had thinned, but we were tired with all we +had been through, and ordered our carriage. _Ordered our carriage!_ + + "I can call spirits from the vasty deep." ... + _But will they come when you do call for them?_" + +The most formidable thing about a London party is getting away from it. +"C'est le _dernier_ pas qui coute." A crowd of anxious persons in +retreat is hanging about the windy door, and the breezy stairway, and +the airy hall. + +A stentorian voice, hard as that of Rhadamanthus, exclaims,-- + +"Lady Vere de Vere's carriage stops the way!" + +If my Lady Vere de Vere is not on hand, and that pretty quickly, off +goes her carriage, and the stern voice bawls again,-- + +"Mrs. Smith's carriage stops the way!" + +Mrs. Smith's particular Smith may be worth his millions and live in his +marble palace; but if Mrs. Smith thinks her coachman is going to stand +with his horses at that door until she appears, she is mistaken, for she +is a minute late, and now the coach moves on, and Rhadamanthus calls +aloud,-- + +"Mrs. Brown's carriage stops the way!" + +Half the lung fevers that carry off the great people are got waiting for +their carriages. + +I know full well that many readers would be disappointed if I did not +mention some of the grand places and bring in some of the great names +that lend their lustre to London society. We were to go to a fine +musical party at Lady Rothschild's on the evening of the 30th of May. It +happened that the day was Sunday, and if we had been as punctilious as +some New England Sabbatarians, we might have felt compelled to decline +the tempting invitation. But the party was given by a daughter of +Abraham, and in every Hebrew household the true Sabbath was over. We +were content for that evening to shelter ourselves under the old +dispensation. + +The party, or concert, was a very brilliant affair. Patti sang to us, +and a tenor, and a violinist played for us. How we two Americans came to +be in so favored a position I do not know; all I do know is that we were +shown to our places, and found them very agreeable ones. In the same row +of seats was the Prince of Wales, two chairs off from A----'s seat. +Directly in front of A---- was the Princess of Wales, "in ruby velvet, +with six rows of pearls encircling her throat, and two more strings +falling quite low;" and next her, in front of me, the startling presence +of Lady de Grey, formerly Lady Lonsdale, and before that Gladys Herbert. +On the other side of the Princess sat the Grand Duke Michael of Russia. + +As we are among the grandest of the grandees, I must enliven my sober +account with an extract from my companion's diary:-- + +"There were several great beauties there, Lady Claude Hamilton, a +queenly blonde, being one. Minnie Stevens Paget had with her the pretty +Miss Langdon, of New York. Royalty had one room for supper, with its +attendant lords and ladies. Lord Rothschild took me down to a long table +for a sit-down supper,--there were some thirty of us. The most superb +pink orchids were on the table. The [Thane] of ---- sat next me, and how +he stared before he was introduced! ... This has been the finest party +we have been to, sitting comfortably in such a beautiful ball-room, +gazing at royalty in the flesh, and at the shades of departed beauties +on the wall, by Sir Joshua and Gainsborough. It was a new experience to +find that the royal lions fed upstairs, and mixed animals below!" + +A visit to Windsor had been planned, under the guidance of a friend +whose kindness had already shown itself in various forms, and who, +before we left England, did for us more than we could have thought of +owing to any one person. This gentleman, Mr. Willett, of Brighton, +called with Mrs. Willett to take us on the visit which had been arranged +between us. + +Windsor Castle, which everybody knows, or can easily learn, all about, +is one of the largest of those huge caverns in which the descendants of +the original cave men, when they have reached the height of human +grandeur, delight to shelter themselves. It seems as if such a great +hollow quarry of rock would strike a chill through every tenant, but +modern improvements reach even the palaces of kings and queens, and the +regulation temperature of the castle, or of its inhabited portions, is +fixed at sixty-five degrees of Fahrenheit. The royal standard was not +floating from the tower of the castle, and everything was quiet and +lonely. We saw all we wanted to,--pictures, furniture, and the rest. My +namesake, the Queen's librarian, was not there to greet us, or I should +have had a pleasant half-hour in the library with that very polite +gentleman, whom I had afterwards the pleasure of meeting in London. + +After going through all the apartments in the castle that we cared to +see, or our conductress cared to show us, we drove in the park, along +the "three-mile walk," and in the by-roads leading from it. The +beautiful avenue, the open spaces with scattered trees here and there, +made this a most delightful excursion. I saw many fine oaks, one about +sixteen feet of honest girth, but no one which was very remarkable. I +wished I could have compared the handsomest of them with one in Beverly, +which I never look at without taking my hat off. This is a young tree, +with a future before it, if barbarians do not meddle with it, more +conspicuous for its spread than its circumference, stretching not very +far from a hundred feet from bough-end to bough-end. I do not think I +saw a specimen of the British _Quercus robur_ of such consummate +beauty. But I know from Evelyn and Strutt what England has to boast of, +and I will not challenge the British oak. + +Two sensations I had in Windsor park, or forest, for I am not quite sure +of the boundary which separates them. The first was the lovely sight of +the _hawthorn_ in full bloom. I had always thought of the hawthorn +as a pretty shrub, growing in hedges; as big as a currant bush or a +barberry bush, or some humble plant of that character. I was surprised +to see it as a tree, standing by itself, and making the most delicious +roof a pair of young lovers could imagine to sit under. It looked at a +little distance like a young apple-tree covered with new-fallen snow. I +shall never see the word hawthorn in poetry again without the image of +the snowy but far from chilling canopy rising before me. It is the very +bower of young love, and must have done more than any growth of the +forest to soften the doom brought upon man by the fruit of the forbidden +tree. No wonder that + + "In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of + love," + +with the object of his affections awaiting him in this boudoir of +nature. What a pity that Zekle, who courted Huldy over the apples she +was peeling, could not have made love as the bucolic youth does, when + + "Every shepherd tells his tale + Under the hawthorn in the dale!" + +(I will have it _love_-tale, in spite of Warton's comment.) But +I suppose it does not make so much difference, for love transmutes the +fruit in Huldy's lap into the apples of the Hesperides. + +In this way it is that the associations with the poetry we remember come +up when we find ourselves surrounded by English scenery. The great poets +build temples of song, and fill them with images and symbols which move +us almost to adoration; the lesser minstrels fill a panel or gild a +cornice here and there, and make our hearts glad with glimpses of +beauty. I felt all this as I looked around and saw the hawthorns in full +bloom, in the openings among the oaks and other trees of the forest. +Presently I heard a sound to which I had never listened before, and +which I have never heard since:-- + +Coooo--coooo! + +Nature had sent one cuckoo from her aviary to sing his double note for +me, that I might not pass away from her pleasing show without once +hearing the call so dear to the poets. It was the last day of spring. A +few more days, and the solitary voice might have been often heard; for +the bird becomes so common as to furnish Shakespeare an image to fit +"the skipping king:"-- + + "He was but as the cuckoo is in June, + Heard, not regarded." + +For the lyric poets the cuckoo is "companion of the spring," "darling of +the spring;" coming with the daisy, and the primrose, and the blossoming +sweet-pea. Where the sound came from I could not tell; it puzzled +Wordsworth, with younger eyes than mine, to find whence issued + + "that cry + Which made me look a thousand ways + In bush, and tree, and sky." + +Only one hint of the prosaic troubled my emotional delight: I could not +help thinking how capitally the little rogue imitated the cuckoo clock, +with the sound of which I was pretty well acquainted. + +On our return from Windsor we had to get ready for another great dinner +with our Minister, Mr. Phelps. As we are in the habit of considering our +great officials as public property, and as some of my readers want as +many glimpses of high life as a decent regard to republican +sensibilities will permit, I will borrow a few words from the diary to +which I have often referred:-- + +"The Princess Louise was there with the Marquis, and I had the best +opportunity of seeing how they receive royalty at private houses. Mr. +and Mrs. Phelps went down to the door to meet her the moment she came, +and then Mr. Phelps entered the drawing-room with the Princess on his +arm, and made the tour of the room with her, she bowing and speaking to +each one of us. Mr. Goschen took me in to dinner, and Lord Lorne was on +my other side. All of the flowers were of the royal color, red. It was a +grand dinner.... The Austrian Ambassador, Count Karoli, took Mrs. Phelps +in [to dinner], his position being higher than that of even the Duke [of +Argyll], who sat upon her right." + +It was a very rich experience for a single day: the stately abode of +royalty, with all its manifold historical recollections, the magnificent +avenue of forest trees, the old oaks, the hawthorn in full bloom, and +the one cry of the cuckoo, calling me back to Nature in her spring-time +freshness and glory; then, after that, a great London dinner-party at a +house where the kind host and the gracious hostess made us feel at home, +and where we could meet the highest people in the land,--the people whom +we who live in a simpler way at home are naturally pleased to be with +under such auspices. What of all this shall I remember longest? Let me +not seem ungrateful to my friends who planned the excursion for us, or +to those who asked us to the brilliant evening entertainment, but I feel +as Wordsworth felt about the cuckoo,--he will survive all the other +memories. + + "And I can listen to thee yet, + Can lie upon the plain + And listen, till I do beget + That golden time again." + +Nothing is more hackneyed than an American's description of his feelings +in the midst of the scenes and objects he has read of all his days, and +is looking upon for the first time. To each of us it appears in some +respects in the same way, but with a difference for every individual. We +may smile at Irving's emotions at the first sight of a distinguished +Englishman on his own soil,--the ingenious Mr. Roscoe, as an earlier +generation would have called him. Our tourists, who are constantly going +forward and back between England and America, lose all sense of the +special distinctions between the two countries which do not bear on +their personal convenience. Happy are those who go with unworn, +unsatiated sensibilities from the New World to the Old; as happy, it may +be, those who come from the Old World to the New, but of that I cannot +form a judgment. + +On the first day of June we called by appointment upon Mr. Peel, the +Speaker of the House of Commons, and went through the Houses of +Parliament. We began with the train-bearer, then met the housekeeper, +and presently were joined by Mr. Palgrave. The "Golden Treasury" stands +on my drawing-room table at home, and the name on its title-page had a +familiar sound. This gentleman is, I believe, a near relative of +Professor Francis Turner Palgrave, its editor. + +Among other things to which Mr. Palgrave called our attention was the +death-warrant of Charles the First. One name in the list of signers +naturally fixed our eyes upon it. It was that of John Dixwell. A lineal +descendant of the old regicide is very near to me by family connection, +Colonel Dixwell having come to this country, married, and left a +posterity, which has resumed the name, dropped for the sake of safety at +the time when he, Goffe, and Whalley, were in concealment in various +parts of New England. + +We lunched with the Speaker, and had the pleasure of the company of +Archdeacon Farrar. In the afternoon we went to a tea at a very grand +house, where, as my companion says in her diary, "it took full six men +in red satin knee-breeches to let us in." Another grand personage asked +us to dine with her at her country place, but we were too full of +engagements. In the evening we went to a large reception at Mr. Gosse's. +It was pleasant to meet artists and scholars,--the kind of company to +which we are much used in our aesthetic city. I found our host as +agreeable at home as he was when in Boston, where he became a favorite, +both as a lecturer and as a visitor. + +Another day we visited Stafford House, where Lord Ronald Gower, himself +an artist, did the honors of the house, showing us the pictures and +sculptures, his own included, in a very obliging and agreeable way. I +have often taken note of the resemblances of living persons to the +portraits and statues of their remote ancestors. In showing us the +portrait of one of his own far-back progenitors, Lord Ronald placed a +photograph of himself in the corner of the frame. The likeness was so +close that the photograph might seem to have been copied from the +painting, the dress only being changed. The Duke of Sutherland, who had +just come back from America, complained that the dinners and lunches had +used him up. I was fast learning how to sympathize with him. + +Then to Grosvenor House to see the pictures. I best remember +Gainsborough's beautiful Blue Boy, commonly so called, from the color of +his dress, and Sir Joshua's Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, which +everybody knows in engravings. We lunched in clerical company that day, +at the Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol's, with the Archbishop of York, +the Reverend Mr. Haweis, and others as guests. I told A---- that she was +not sufficiently impressed with her position at the side of an +archbishop; she was not _crumbling bread_ in her nervous +excitement. The company did not seem to remember Sydney Smith's remark +to the young lady next him at a dinner-party: "My dear, I see you are +nervous, by your crumbling your bread as you do. _I_ always crumble +bread when I sit by a bishop, and when I sit by an archbishop I crumble +bread with both hands." That evening I had the pleasure of dining with +the distinguished Mr. Bryce, whose acquaintance I made in our own +country, through my son, who has introduced me to many agreeable persons +of his own generation, with whose companionship I am glad to mend the +broken and merely fragmentary circle of old friendships. + +The 3d of June was a memorable day for us, for on the evening of that +day we were to hold our reception. If Dean Bradley had proposed our +meeting our guests in the Jerusalem Chamber, I should hardly have been +more astonished. But these kind friends meant what they said, and put +the offer in such a shape that it was impossible to resist it. So we +sent out our cards to a few hundreds of persons,--those who we thought +might like invitations. I was particularly desirous that many members of +the medical profession whom I had not met, but who felt well disposed +towards me, should be at this gathering. The meeting was in every +respect a success. I wrote a prescription for as many baskets of +champagne as would be consistent with the well-being of our guests, and +such light accompaniments as a London company is wont to expect under +similar circumstances. My own recollections of the evening, unclouded by +its festivities, but confused by its multitudinous succession of +introductions, are about as definite as the Duke of Wellington's alleged +monosyllabic description of the battle of Waterloo. But A---- writes in +her diary: "From nine to twelve we stood, receiving over three hundred +people out of the four hundred and fifty we invited." As I did not go to +Europe to visit hospitals or museums, I might have missed seeing some of +those professional brethren whose names I hold in honor and whose +writings are in my library. If any such failed to receive our cards of +invitation, it was an accident which, if I had known, I should have +deeply regretted. So far as we could judge by all we heard, our +unpretentious party gave general satisfaction. Many different social +circles were represented, but it passed off easily and agreeably. I can +say this more freely, as the credit of it belongs so largely to the care +and self-sacrificing efforts of Dr. Priestley and his charming wife. + +I never refused to write in the birthday book or the album of the +humblest schoolgirl or schoolboy, and I could not refuse to set my name, +with a verse from one of my poems, in the album of the Princess of +Wales, which was sent me for that purpose. It was a nice new book, with +only two or three names in it, and those of musical composers,-- +Rubinstein's, I think, was one of them,--so that I felt honored by +the great lady's request. I ought to describe the book, but I only +remember that it was quite large and sumptuously elegant, and that +I copied into it the last verse of a poem of mine called "The Chambered +Nautilus," as I have often done for plain republican albums. + +The day after our simple reception was notable for three social events +in which we had our part. The first was a lunch at the house of Mrs. +Cyril Flower, one of the finest in London,--Surrey House, as it is +called. Mr. Browning, who seems to go everywhere, and is one of the +vital elements of London society, was there as a matter of course. Miss +Cobbe, many of whose essays I have read with great satisfaction, though +I cannot accept all her views, was a guest whom I was very glad to meet +a second time. + +In the afternoon we went to a garden-party given by the Princess Louise +at Kensington Palace, a gloomy-looking edifice, which might be taken +for a hospital or a poorhouse. Of all the festive occasions which I +attended, the garden-parties were to me the most formidable. They are +all very well for young people, and for those who do not mind the +nipping and eager air, with which, as I have said, the climate of +England, no less than that of America, falsifies all the fine things the +poets have said about May, and, I may add, even June. We wandered about +the grounds, spoke with the great people, stared at the odd ones, and +said to ourselves,--at least I said to myself,--with Hamlet, + + "The air bites shrewdly, it is very cold." + +[Illustration: Robert Browning.] + +The most curious personages were some East Indians, a chocolate-colored +lady, her husband, and children. The mother had a diamond on the side of +her nose, its setting riveted on the inside, one might suppose; the +effect was peculiar, far from captivating. A---- said that she should +prefer the good old-fashioned nose-ring, as we find it described and +pictured by travellers. She saw a great deal more than I did, of course. +I quote from her diary: "The little Eastern children made their native +salaam to the Princess by prostrating themselves flat on their little +stomachs in front of her, putting their hands between her feet, pushing +them aside, and kissing the print of her feet!" + +I really believe one or both of us would have run serious risks of +catching our "death o' cold," if we had waited for our own carriage, +which seemed forever in coming forward. The good Lady Holland, who was +more than once our guardian angel, brought us home in hers. So we got +warmed up at our own hearth, and were ready in due season for the large +and fine dinner-party at Archdeacon Farrar's, where, among other guests, +were Mrs. Phelps, our Minister's wife, who is a great favorite alike +with Americans and English, Sir John Millais, Mr. Tyndall, and other +interesting people. + +I am sorry that we could not have visited Newstead Abbey. I had a letter +from Mr. Thornton Lothrop to Colonel Webb, the present proprietor, with +whom we lunched. I have spoken of the pleasure I had when I came +accidentally upon persons with whose name and fame I had long been +acquainted. A similar impression was that which I received when I found +myself in the company of the bearer of an old historic name. When my +host at the lunch introduced a stately-looking gentleman as Sir Kenelm +Digby, it gave me a start, as if a ghost had stood before me. I +recovered myself immediately, however, for there was nothing of the +impalpable or immaterial about the stalwart personage who bore the name. +I wanted to ask him if he carried any of his ancestor's "powder of +sympathy" about with him. Many, but not all, of my readers remember that +famous man's famous preparation. When used to cure a wound, it was +applied to the weapon that made it; the part was bound up so as to bring +the edges of the wound together, and by the wondrous influence of the +sympathetic powder the healing process took place in the kindest +possible manner. Sir Kenelm, the ancestor, was a gallant soldier, a +grand gentleman, and the husband of a wonderfully beautiful wife, whose +charms he tried to preserve from the ravages of time by various +experiments. He was also the homoeopathist of his day, the Elisha +Perkins (metallic tractors) of his generation. The "mind cure" people +might adopt him as one of their precursors. + +I heard a curious statement which was illustrated in the person of one +of the gentlemen we met at this table. It is that English sporting men +are often deaf on one side, in consequence of the noise of the frequent +discharge of their guns affecting the right ear. This is a very +convenient infirmity for gentlemen who indulge in slightly aggressive +remarks, but when they are hit back never seem to be conscious at all of +the _riposte_,--the return thrust of the fencer. + +Dr. Allchin called and took me to a dinner, where I met many +professional brothers, and enjoyed myself highly. + +By this time every day was pledged for one or more engagements, so that +many very attractive invitations had to be declined. I will not follow +the days one by one, but content myself with mentioning some of the more +memorable visits. I had been invited to the Rabelais Club, as I have +before mentioned, by a cable message. This is a club of which the late +Lord Houghton was president, and of which I am a member, as are several +other Americans. I was afraid that the gentlemen who met, + + "To laugh and shake in Rabelais's easy chair," + +might be more hilarious and demonstrative in their mirth than I, a sober +New Englander in the superfluous decade, might find myself equal to. But +there was no uproarious jollity; on the contrary, it was a pleasant +gathering of literary people and artists, who took their pleasure not +sadly, but serenely, and I do not remember a single explosive guffaw. + +Another day, after going all over Dudley House, including Lady Dudley's +boudoir, "in light blue satin, the prettiest room we have seen," A---- +says, we went, by appointment, to Westminster Abbey, where we spent two +hours under the guidance of Archdeacon Farrar. I think no part of the +Abbey is visited with so much interest as Poets' Corner. We are all +familiarly acquainted with it beforehand. We are all ready for "O rare +Ben Jonson!" as we stand over the place where he was planted standing +upright, as if he had been dropped into a post-hole. We remember too +well the foolish and flippant mockery of Gay's "Life is a Jest." If I +were dean of the cathedral, I should be tempted to alter the _J_ to +a _G_. Then we could read it without contempt; for life _is_ a +gest, an achievement,--or always ought to be. Westminster Abbey is too +crowded with monuments to the illustrious dead and those who have been +considered so in their day to produce any other than a confused +impression. When we visit the tomb of Napoleon at the Invalides, no +side-lights interfere with the view before us in the field of mental +vision. We see the Emperor; Marengo, Austerlitz, Waterloo, Saint Helena, +come before us, with him as their central figure. So at Stratford,--the +Cloptons and the John a Combes, with all their memorials, cannot make us +lift our eyes from the stone which covers the dust that once breathed +and walked the streets of Stratford as Shakespeare. + +Ah, but here is one marble countenance that I know full well, and knew +for many a year in the flesh! Is there an American who sees the bust of +Longfellow among the effigies of the great authors of England without +feeling a thrill of pleasure at recognizing the features of his native +fellow-countryman in the Valhalla of his ancestral fellow-countrymen? +There are many memorials in Poets' Corner and elsewhere in the Abbey +which could be better spared than that. Too many that were placed there +as luminaries have become conspicuous by their obscurity in the midst of +that illustrious company. On the whole, the Abbey produces a distinct +sense of being overcrowded. It appears too much like a lapidary's +store-room. Look up at the lofty roof, which we willingly pardon for +shutting out the heaven above us,--at least in an average London day; +look down at the floor and think of what precious relics it covers; but +do not look around you with the hope of getting any clear, concentrated, +satisfying effect from this great museum of gigantic funereal bricabrac. +Pardon me, shades of the mighty dead! I had something of this feeling, +but at another hour I might perhaps be overcome by emotion, and weep, as +my fellow-countryman did at the grave of the earliest of his ancestors. +I should love myself better in that aspect than I do in this coldblooded +criticism; but it suggested itself, and as no flattery can soothe, so no +censure can wound, "the dull, cold ear of death." + +Of course we saw all the sights of the Abbey in a hurried way, yet with +such a guide and expositor as Archdeacon Farrar our two hours' visit was +worth a whole day with an undiscriminating verger, who recites his +lesson by rote, and takes the life out of the little mob that follows +him round by emphasizing the details of his lesson, until "Patience on a +monument" seems to the sufferer, who knows what he wants and what he +does not want, the nearest emblem of himself he can think of. Amidst all +the imposing recollections of the ancient edifice, one impressed me in +the inverse ratio of its importance. The Archdeacon pointed out the +little holes in the stones, in one place, where the boys of the choir +used to play marbles, before America was discovered, probably,-- +centuries before, it may be. It is a strangely impressive glimpse +of a living past, like the _graffiti_ of Pompeii. I find it +is often the accident rather than the essential which fixes my attention +and takes hold of my memory. This is a tendency of which I suppose I +ought to be ashamed, if we have any right to be ashamed of those +idiosyncrasies which are ordered for us. It is the same tendency which +often leads us to prefer the picturesque to the beautiful. Mr. Gilpin +liked the donkey in a forest landscape better than the horse. A touch of +imperfection interferes with the beauty of an object and lowers its +level to that of the picturesque. The accident of the holes in the stone +of the noble building, for the boys to play marbles with, makes me a boy +again and at home with them, after looking with awe upon the statue of +Newton, and turning with a shudder from the ghastly monument of Mrs. +Nightingale. + +What a life must be that of one whose years are passed chiefly in and +about the great Abbey! Nowhere does Macbeth's expression "dusty death" +seem so true to all around us. The dust of those who have been lying +century after century below the marbles piled over them,--the dust on +the monuments they lie beneath; the dust on the memories those monuments +were raised to keep living in the recollection of posterity,--dust, +dust, dust, everywhere, and we ourselves but shapes of breathing dust +moving amidst these objects and remembrances! Come away! The good +Archdeacon of the "Eternal Hope" has asked us to take a cup of tea with +him. The tea-cup will be a cheerful substitute for the funeral urn, and +a freshly made infusion of the fragrant leaf is one of the best things +in the world to lay the dust of sad reflections. + +It is a somewhat fatiguing pleasure to go through the Abbey, in spite of +the intense interest no one can help feeling. But my day had but just +begun when the two hours we had devoted to the visit were over. At a +quarter before eight, my friend Mr. Frederick Locker called for me to go +to a dinner at the Literary Club. I was particularly pleased to dine +with this association, as it reminded me of our own Saturday Club, which +sometimes goes by the same name as the London one. They complimented me +with a toast, and I made some kind of a reply. As I never went prepared +with a speech for any such occasion, I take it for granted that I +thanked the company in a way that showed my gratitude rather than my +eloquence. And now, the dinner being over, my day was fairly begun. + +This was to be a memorable date in the record of the year, one long to +be remembered in the political history of Great Britain. For on this +day, the 7th of June, Mr. Gladstone was to make his great speech on the +Irish question, and the division of the House on the Government of +Ireland Bill was to take place. The whole country, to the corners of its +remotest colony, was looking forward to the results of this evening's +meeting of Parliament. The kindness of the Speaker had furnished me with +a ticket, entitling me to a place among the "distinguished guests," +which I presented without modestly questioning my right to the title. + +The pressure for entrance that evening was very great, and I, coming +after my dinner with the Literary Club, was late upon the ground. The +places for "distinguished guests" were already filled. But all England +was in a conspiracy to do everything possible to make my visit +agreeable. I did not take up a great deal of room,--I might be put into +a seat with the ambassadors and foreign ministers. And among them I was +presently installed. It was now between ten and eleven o'clock, as +nearly as I recollect. The House had been in session since four o'clock. +A gentleman was speaking, who was, as my unknown next neighbor told me, +Sir Michael Hicks-Beach, a leading member, as we all know, of the +opposition. When he sat down there was a hush of expectation, and +presently Mr. Gladstone rose to his feet. A great burst of applause +welcomed him, lasting more than a minute. His clean-cut features, his +furrowed cheeks, his scanty and whitened hair, his well-shaped but not +extraordinary head, all familiarized by innumerable portraits and +emphasized in hundreds of caricatures, revealed him at once to every +spectator. His great speech has been universally read, and I need only +speak of the way in which it was delivered. His manner was forcible +rather than impassioned or eloquent; his voice was clear enough, but +must have troubled him somewhat, for he had a small bottle from which he +poured something into a glass from time to time and swallowed a little, +yet I heard him very well for the most part. In the last portion of his +speech he became animated and inspiriting, and his closing words were +uttered with an impressive solemnity: "Think, I beseech you, think well, +think wisely, think not for a moment, but for the years that are to +come, before you reject this bill." + +After the burst of applause which followed the conclusion of Mr. +Gladstone's speech, the House proceeded to the division on the question +of passing the bill to a second reading. While the counting of the votes +was going on there was the most intense excitement. A rumor ran round +the House at one moment that the vote was going in favor of the second +reading. It soon became evident that this was not the case, and +presently the result was announced, giving a majority of thirty against +the bill, and practically overthrowing the liberal administration. Then +arose a tumult of applause from the conservatives and a wild confusion, +in the midst of which an Irish member shouted, "Three cheers for the +Grand Old Man!" which were lustily given, with waving of hats and all +but Donnybrook manifestations of enthusiasm. + +I forgot to mention that I had a very advantageous seat among the +diplomatic gentlemen, and was felicitating myself on occupying one of +the best positions in the House, when an usher politely informed me that +the Russian Ambassador, in whose place I was sitting, had arrived, and +that I must submit to the fate of eviction. Fortunately, there were some +steps close by, on one of which I found a seat almost as good as the one +I had just left. + +It was now two o'clock in the morning, and I had to walk home, not a +vehicle being attainable. I did not know my way to my headquarters, and +I had no friend to go with me, but I fastened on a stray gentleman, who +proved to be an ex-member of the House, and who accompanied me to 17 +Dover Street, where I sought my bed with a satisfying sense of having +done a good day's work and having been well paid for it. + + + + +III. + + +On the 8th of June we visited the Record Office for a sight of the +Domesday Book and other ancient objects of interest there preserved. As +I looked at this too faithful memorial of an inexorable past, I thought +of the battle of Hastings and all its consequences, and that reminded me +of what I have long remembered as I read it in Dr. Robert Knox's "Races +of Men." Dr. Knox was the monoculous Waterloo surgeon, with whom I +remember breakfasting, on my first visit to England and Scotland. His +celebrity is less owing to his book than to the unfortunate connection +of his name with the unforgotten Burke and Hare horrors. This is his +language in speaking of Hastings: "... that bloody field, surpassing far +in its terrible results the unhappy day of Waterloo. From this the Celt +has recovered, but not so the Saxon. To this day he feels, and feels +deeply, the most disastrous day that ever befell his race; here he was +trodden down by the Norman, whose iron heel is on him yet.... To this +day the Saxon race in England have never recovered a tithe of their +rights, and probably never will." + +The Conqueror meant to have a thorough summing up of his stolen +property. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle says,--I quote it at second +hand,--"So very straitly did he cause the survey to be made, that there +was not a single hyde, nor a yardland of ground, nor--it is shameful to +say what he thought no shame to do--was there an ox or a cow, or a pig +passed by, and that was not down in the accounts, and then all these +writings were brought to him." The "looting" of England by William and +his "twenty thousand thieves," as Mr. Emerson calls his army, was a +singularly methodical proceeding, and Domesday Book is a searching +inventory of their booty, movable and immovable. + +From this reminder of the past we turned to the remembrances of home; +A---- going to dine with a transplanted Boston friend and other ladies +from that blessed centre of New England life, while I dined with a party +of gentlemen at my friend Mr. James Russell Lowell's. + +I had looked forward to this meeting with high expectations, and they +were abundantly satisfied. I knew that Mr. Lowell must gather about him, +wherever he might be, the choicest company, but what his selection would +be I was curious to learn. I found with me at the table my own +countrymen and his, Mr. Smalley and Mr. Henry James. Of the other +guests, Mr. Leslie Stephen was my only old acquaintance in person; but +Du Maurier and Tenniel I have met in my weekly "Punch" for many a year; +Mr. Lang, Mr. Oliphant, Mr. Townsend, we all know through their +writings; Mr. Burne-Jones and Mr. Alma Tadema, through the frequent +reproductions of their works in engravings, as well as by their +paintings. If I could report a dinner-table conversation, I might be +tempted to say something of my talk with Mr. Oliphant. I like well +enough conversation which floats safely over the shallows, touching +bottom at intervals with a commonplace incident or truism to push it +along; I like better to find a few fathoms of depth under the surface; +there is a still higher pleasure in the philosophical discourse which +calls for the deep sea line to reach bottom; but best of all, when one +is in the right mood, is the contact of intelligences when they are off +soundings in the ocean of thought. Mr. Oliphant is what many of us call +a mystic, and I found a singular pleasure in listening to him. This +dinner at Mr. Lowell's was a very remarkable one for the men it brought +together, and I remember it with peculiar interest. My entertainer holds +a master-key to London society, and he opened the gate for me into one +of its choicest preserves on that evening. + +I did not undertake to renew my old acquaintance with hospitals and +museums. I regretted that I could not be with my companion, who went +through the Natural History Museum with the accomplished director, +Professor W. H. Flower. One old acquaintance I did resuscitate. For the +second time I took the hand of Charles O'Byrne, the celebrated Irish +giant of the last century. I met him, as in my first visit, at the Royal +College of Surgeons, where I accompanied Mr. Jonathan Hutchinson. He was +in the condition so longed for by Sydney Smith on a very hot day; +namely, with his flesh taken off, and sitting, or rather standing, in +his bones. The skeleton measures eight feet, and the living man's height +is stated as having been eight feet two, or four inches, by different +authorities. His hand was the only one I took, either in England or +Scotland, which had not a warm grasp and a hearty welcome in it. + +A---- went with Boston friends to see "Faust" a second time, Mr. Irving +having offered her the Royal box, and the polite Mr. Bram Stoker serving +the party with tea in the little drawing-room behind the box; so that +she had a good time while I was enjoying myself at a dinner at Sir Henry +Thompson's, where I met Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Browning, and other +distinguished gentlemen. These dinners of Sir Henry's are well known for +the good company one meets at them, and I felt myself honored to be a +guest on this occasion. + +Among the pleasures I had promised myself was that of a visit to +Tennyson, at the Isle of Wight. I feared, however, that this would be +rendered impracticable by reason of the very recent death of his younger +son, Lionel. But I learned from Mr. Locker-Lampson, whose daughter Mr. +Lionel Tennyson had married, that the poet would be pleased to see me at +his place, Farringford; and by the kind intervention of Mr. +Locker-Lampson, better known to the literary world as Frederick Locker, +arrangements were made for my daughter and myself to visit him. I +considered it a very great favor, for Lord Tennyson has a poet's +fondness for the tranquillity of seclusion, which many curious explorers +of society fail to remember. Lady Tennyson is an invalid, and though +nothing could be more gracious than her reception of us both, I fear it +may have cost her an effort which she would not allow to betray itself. +Mr. Hallam Tennyson and his wife, both of most pleasing presence and +manners, did everything to make our stay agreeable. I saw the poet to +the best advantage, under his own trees and walking over his own domain. +He took delight in pointing out to me the finest and the rarest of his +trees,--and there were many beauties among them. I recalled my morning's +visit to Whittier at Oak Knoll, in Danvers, a little more than a year +ago, when he led me to one of his favorites, an aspiring evergreen which +shot up like a flame. I thought of the graceful American elms in front +of Longfellow's house and the sturdy English elms that stand in front of +Lowell's. In this garden of England, the Isle of Wight, where everything +grows with such a lavish extravagance of greenness that it seems as if +it must bankrupt the soil before autumn, I felt as if weary eyes and +overtasked brains might reach their happiest haven of rest. We all +remember Shenstone's epigram on the pane of a tavern window. If we find +our "warmest welcome at an inn," we find our most soothing companionship +in the trees among which we have lived, some of which we may ourselves +have planted. We lean against them, and they never betray our trust; +they shield us from the sun and from the rain; their spring welcome is a +new birth, which never loses its freshness; they lay their beautiful +robes at our feet in autumn; in winter they "stand and wait," emblems of +patience and of truth, for they hide nothing, not even the little +leaf-buds which hint to us of hope, the last element in their triple +symbolism. + +This digression, suggested by the remembrance of the poet under his +trees, breaks my narrative, but gives me the opportunity of paying a +debt of gratitude. For I have owned many beautiful trees, and loved many +more outside of my own leafy harem. Those who write verses have no +special claim to be lovers of trees, but so far as one is of the +poetical temperament he is likely to be a tree-lover. Poets have, as a +rule, more than the average nervous sensibility and irritability. Trees +have no nerves. They live and die without suffering, without +self-questioning or self-reproach. They have the divine gift of silence. +They cannot obtrude upon the solitary moments when one is to himself the +most agreeable of companions. The whole vegetable world, even "the +meanest flower that blows," is lovely to contemplate. What if creation +had paused there, and you or I had been called upon to decide whether +self-conscious life should be added in the form of the existing animal +creation, and the hitherto peaceful universe should come under the rule +of Nature as we now know her, + + "red in tooth and claw"? + +Are we not glad that the responsibility of the decision did not rest on +us? + +I am sorry that I did not ask Tennyson to read or repeat to me some +lines of his own. Hardly any one perfectly understands a poem but the +poet himself. One naturally loves his own poem as no one else can. It +fits the mental mould in which it was cast, and it will not exactly fit +any other. For this reason I had rather listen to a poet reading his own +verses than hear the best elocutionist that ever spouted recite them. He +may not have a good voice or enunciation, but he puts his heart and his +inter-penetrative intelligence into every line, word, and syllable. I +should have liked to hear Tennyson read such lines as + + "Laborious orient ivory, sphere in sphere;" + +and in spite of my good friend Matthew Arnold's _in terrorem_, I +should have liked to hear Macaulay read, + + "And Aulus the Dictator + Stroked Auster's raven mane," + +and other good mouthable lines, from the "Lays of Ancient Rome." Not +less should I like to hear Mr. Arnold himself read the passage +beginning,-- + + "In his cool hall with haggard eyes + The Roman noble lay." + +The next day Mrs. Hallam Tennyson took A---- in her pony cart to see +Alum Bay, The Needles, and other objects of interest, while I wandered +over the grounds with Tennyson. After lunch his carriage called for us, +and we were driven across the island, through beautiful scenery, to +Ventnor, where we took the train to Ryde, and there the steamer to +Portsmouth, from which two hours and a half of travel carried us to +London. + + * * * * * + +My first visit to Cambridge was at the invitation of Mr. Gosse, who +asked me to spend Sunday, the 13th of June, with him. The rooms in +Neville Court, Trinity College, occupied by Sir William Vernon Harcourt +when lecturing at Cambridge, were placed at my disposal. The room I +slept in was imposing with the ensigns armorial of the Harcourts and +others which ornamented its walls. I had great delight in walking +through the quadrangles, along the banks of the Cam, and beneath the +beautiful trees which border it. Mr. Gosse says that I stopped in the +second court of Clare, and looked around and smiled as if I were +bestowing my benediction. He was mistaken: I smiled as if I were +receiving a benediction from my dear old grandmother; for Cambridge in +New England is my mother town, and Harvard University in Cambridge is my +Alma Mater. She is the daughter of Cambridge in Old England, and my +relationship is thus made clear. + +Mr. Gosse introduced me to many of the younger and some of the older men +of the university. Among my visits was one never to be renewed and never +to be forgotten. It was to the Master of Trinity, the Reverend William +Hepworth Thompson. I hardly expected to have the privilege of meeting +this very distinguished and greatly beloved personage, famous not alone +for scholarship, or as the successor of Dr. Whewell in his high office, +but also as having said some of the wittiest things which we have heard +since Voltaire's _pour encourager les autres_. I saw him in his +chamber, a feeble old man, but noble to look upon in all "the monumental +pomp of age." He came very near belonging to the little group I have +mentioned as my coevals, but was a year after us. Gentle, dignified, +kindly in his address as if I had been his schoolmate, he left a very +charming impression. He gave me several mementoes of my visit, among +them a beautiful engraving of Sir Isaac Newton, representing him as one +of the handsomest of men. Dr. Thompson looked as if he could not be very +long for this world, but his death, a few weeks after my visit, was a +painful surprise to me. I had been just in time to see "the last of the +great men" at Cambridge, as my correspondent calls him, and I was very +grateful that I could store this memory among the hoarded treasures I +have been laying by for such possible extra stretch of time as may be +allowed me. + +My second visit to Cambridge will be spoken of in due season. + +While I was visiting Mr. Gosse at Cambridge, A---- was not idle. On +Saturday she went to Lambeth, where she had the pleasure and honor of +shaking hands with the Archbishop of Canterbury in his study, and of +looking about the palace with Mrs. Benson. On Sunday she went to the +Abbey, and heard "a broad and liberal sermon" from Archdeacon Farrar. +Our young lady-secretary stayed and dined with her, and after dinner +sang to her. "A peaceful, happy Sunday," A---- says in her diary,--not +less peaceful, I suspect, for my being away, as my callers must have got +many a "not at 'ome" from young Robert of the multitudinous buttons. + +On Monday, the 14th of June, after getting ready for our projected +excursions, we had an appointment which promised us a great deal of +pleasure. Mr. Augustus Harris, the enterprising and celebrated manager +of Drury Lane Theatre, had sent us an invitation to occupy a box, having +eight seats, at the representation of "Carmen." We invited the +Priestleys and our Boston friends, the Shimminses, to take seats with +us. The chief singer in the opera was Marie Roze, who looked well and +sang well, and the evening went off very happily. After the performance +we were invited by Mr. Harris to a supper of some thirty persons, where +we were the special guests. The manager toasted me, and I said +something,--I trust appropriate; but just what I said is as +irrecoverable as the orations of Demosthenes on the seashore, or the +sermons of St. Francis to the beasts and birds. + +Of all the attentions I received in England, this was, perhaps, the +least to be anticipated or dreamed of. To be fêted and toasted and to +make a speech in Drury Lane Theatre would not have entered into my +flightiest conceptions, if I had made out a programme beforehand. It is +a singularly gratifying recollection. Drury Lane Theatre is so full of +associations with literature, with the great actors and actresses of the +past, with the famous beauties who have stood behind the footlights and +the splendid audiences that have sat before them, that it is an +admirable nucleus for remembrances to cluster around. It was but a vague +spot in memory before, but now it is a bright centre for other images of +the past. That one evening seems to make me the possessor of all its +traditions from the time when it rose from its ashes, when Byron's poem +was written and recited, and when the brothers Smith gave us the +"Address without a Phoenix," and all those exquisite parodies which make +us feel towards their originals somewhat as our dearly remembered Tom +Appleton did when he said, in praise of some real green turtle soup, +that it was almost as good as mock. + +With much regret we gave up an invitation we had accepted to go to +Durdans to dine with Lord Rosebery. We must have felt very tired indeed +to make so great a sacrifice, but we had to be up until one o'clock +getting ready for the next day's journey; writing, packing, and +attending to what we left behind us as well as what was in prospect. + +On the morning of Wednesday, June 16th, Dr. Donald Macalister called to +attend us on our second visit to Cambridge, where we were to be the +guests of his cousin, Alexander Macalister, Professor of Anatomy, who, +with Mrs. Macalister, received us most cordially. There was a large +luncheon-party at their house, to which we sat down in our travelling +dresses. In the evening they had a dinner-party, at which were present, +among others, Professor Stokes, President of the Royal Society, and +Professor Wright. We had not heard much talk of political matters at the +dinner-tables where we had been guests, but A---- sat near a lady who +was very earnest in advocating the Irish side of the great impending +question. + +The 17th of June is memorable in the annals of my country. On that day +of the year 1775 the battle of Bunker's Hill was fought on the height I +see from the window of my library, where I am now writing. The monument +raised in memory of our defeat, which was in truth a victory, is almost +as much a part of the furniture of the room as its chairs and tables; +outside, as they are inside, furniture. But the 17th of June, 1886, is +memorable to me above all the other anniversaries of that day I have +known. For on that day I received from the ancient University of +Cambridge, England, the degree of Doctor of Letters, "Doctor Litt.," in +its abbreviated academic form. The honor was an unexpected one; that is, +until a short time before it was conferred. + +Invested with the academic gown and cap, I repaired in due form at the +appointed hour to the Senate Chamber. Every seat was filled, and among +the audience were youthful faces in large numbers, looking as if they +were ready for any kind of outbreak of enthusiasm or hilarity. + +The first degree conferred was that of LL.D., on Sir W. A. White, +G.C.M., G.C.B., to whose long list of appended initials it seemed like +throwing a perfume on the violet to add three more letters. + +When I was called up to receive my honorary title, the young voices were +true to the promise of the young faces. There was a great noise, not +hostile nor unpleasant in its character, in answer to which I could +hardly help smiling my acknowledgments. In presenting me for my degree +the Public Orator made a Latin speech, from which I venture to give a +short extract, which I would not do for the world if it were not +disguised by being hidden in the mask of a dead language. But there will +be here and there a Latin scholar who will be pleased with the way in +which the speaker turned a compliment to the candidate before him, with +a reference to one of his poems and to some of his prose works. + +_"Juvat nuper audivisse eum cujus carmen prope primum 'Folium ultimum' +nominatum est, folia adhuc plura e scriniis suis esse prolaturum. +Novimus quanta lepore descripserit colloquia illa antemeridiana, +symposia illa sobria et severa, sed eadem festiva et faceta, in quibus +totiens mutata persona, modo poeta, modo professor, modo princeps et +arbiter, loquendi, inter convivas suos regnat."_ + +I had no sooner got through listening to the speech and receiving my +formal sentence as Doctor of Letters than the young voices broke out in +fresh clamor. There were cries of "A speech! a speech!" mingled with the +title of a favorite poem by John Howard Payne, having a certain amount +of coincidence with the sound of my name. The play upon the word was not +absolutely a novelty to my ear, but it was good-natured, and I smiled +again, and perhaps made a faint inclination, as much as to say, "I hear +you, young gentlemen, but I do not forget that I am standing on my +dignity, especially now since a new degree has added a moral cubit to my +stature." Still the cries went on, and at last I saw nothing else to do +than to edge back among the silk gowns, and so lose myself and be lost +to the clamorous crowd in the mass of dignitaries. It was not +indifference to the warmth of my welcome, but a feeling that I had no +claim to address the audience because some of its younger members were +too demonstrative. I have not forgotten my very cordial reception, which +made me feel almost as much at home in the old Cambridge as in the new, +where I was born and took my degrees, academic, professional, and +honorary. + +The university town left a very deep impression upon my mind, in which a +few grand objects predominate over the rest, all being of a delightful +character. I was fortunate enough to see the gathering of the boats, +which was the last scene in their annual procession. The show was +altogether lovely. The pretty river, about as wide as the Housatonic, I +should judge, as that slender stream winds through "Canoe Meadow," my +old Pittsfield residence, the gaily dressed people who crowded the +banks, the flower-crowned boats, with the gallant young oarsmen who +handled them so skilfully, made a picture not often equalled. The walks, +the bridges, the quadrangles, the historic college buildings, all +conspired to make the place a delight and a fascination. The library of +Trinity College, with its rows of busts by Roubiliac and Woolner, is a +truly noble hall. But beyond, above all the rest, the remembrance of +King's College Chapel, with its audacious and richly wrought roof and +its wide and lofty windows, glowing with old devices in colors which are +ever fresh, as if just from the furnace, holds the first place in my +gallery of Cambridge recollections. + +I cannot do justice to the hospitalities which were bestowed upon us in +Cambridge. Professor and Mrs. Macalister, aided by Dr. Donald +Macalister, did all that thoughtful hosts could do to make us feel at +home. In the afternoon the ladies took tea at Mr. Oscar Browning's. In +the evening we went to a large dinner at the invitation of the +Vice-Chancellor. Many little points which I should not have thought of +are mentioned in A----'s diary. I take the following extract from it, +toning down its vivacity more nearly to my own standard:-- + +"Twenty were there. The Master of St. John's took me in, and the +Vice-Chancellor was on the other side.... The Vice-Chancellor rose and +returned thanks after the meats and before the sweets, as usual. I have +now got used to this proceeding, which strikes me as extraordinary. +Everywhere here in Cambridge, and the same in Oxford, I believe, they +say grace and give thanks. A gilded ewer and flat basin were passed, +with water in the basin to wash with, and we all took our turn at the +bath! Next to this came the course with the finger-bowls!... Why two +baths?" + +On Friday, the 18th, I went to a breakfast at the Combination Room, at +which about fifty gentlemen were present, Dr. Sandys taking the chair. +After the more serious business of the morning's repast was over, Dr. +Macalister, at the call of the chairman, arose, and proposed my welfare +in a very complimentary way. I of course had to respond, and I did so in +the words which came of their own accord to my lips. After my +unpremeditated answer, which was kindly received, a young gentleman of +the university, Mr. Heitland, read a short poem, of which the following +is the title:-- + +LINES OF GREETING TO DR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. + +AT BREAKFAST IN COMBINATION ROOM, ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, +ENGLAND. + +I wish I dared quote more than the last two verses of these lines, which +seemed to me, not unused to giving and receiving complimentary tributes, +singularly happy, and were so considered by all who heard them. I think +I may venture to give the two verses referred to:-- + + "By all sweet memory of the saints and sages + Who wrought among us in the days of yore; + By youths who, turning now life's early pages, + Ripen to match the worthies gone before: + + "On us, O son of England's greatest daughter, + A kindly word from heart and tongue bestow; + Then chase the sunsets o'er the western water, + And bear our blessing with you as you go." + +I need not say that I left the English Cambridge with a heart full of +all grateful and kindly emotions. + +I must not forget that I found at Cambridge, very pleasantly established +and successfully practising his profession, a former student in the +dental department of our Harvard Medical School, Dr. George Cunningham, +who used to attend my lectures on anatomy. In the garden behind the +quaint old house in which he lives is a large medlar-tree,--the first I +remember seeing. + +On this same day we bade good-by to Cambridge, and took the two o'clock +train to Oxford, where we arrived at half past five. At this first visit +we were to be the guests of Professor Max Müller, at his fine residence +in Norham Gardens. We met there, at dinner, Mr. Herkomer, whom we have +recently had with us in Boston, and one or two others. In the evening we +had music; the professor playing on the piano, his two daughters, Mrs. +Conybeare and her unmarried sister, singing, and a young lady playing +the violin. It was a very lovely family picture; a pretty house, +surrounded by attractive scenery; scholarship, refinement, simple +elegance, giving distinction to a home which to us seemed a pattern of +all we could wish to see beneath an English roof. It all comes back to +me very sweetly, but very tenderly and sadly, for the voice of the elder +of the two sisters who sang to us is heard no more on earth, and a deep +shadow has fallen over the household we found so bright and cheerful. + +Everything was done to make me enjoy my visit to Oxford, but I was +suffering from a severe cold, and was paying the penalty of too much +occupation and excitement. I missed a great deal in consequence, and +carried away a less distinct recollection of this magnificent seat of +learning than of the sister university. + +If one wishes to know the magic of names, let him visit the places made +memorable by the lives of the illustrious men of the past in the Old +World. As a boy I used to read the poetry of Pope, of Goldsmith, and of +Johnson. How could I look at the Bodleian Library, or wander beneath its +roof, without recalling the lines from "The Vanity of Human Wishes"? + + "When first the college rolls receive his name, + The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame; + Resistless burns the fever of renown, + Caught from the strong contagion of the gown: + O'er Bodley's dome his future labors spread, + And Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head." + +The last line refers to Roger Bacon. "There is a tradition that the +study of Friar Bacon, built on an arch over the bridge, will fall when a +man greater than Bacon shall pass under it. To prevent so shocking an +accident, it was pulled down many years since." We shall meet with a +similar legend in another university city. Many persons have been shy of +these localities, who were in no danger whatever of meeting the fate +threatened by the prediction. + +We passed through the Bodleian Library, only glancing at a few of its +choicest treasures, among which the exquisitely illuminated missals were +especially tempting objects of study. It was almost like a mockery to +see them opened and closed, without having the time to study their +wonderful miniature paintings. A walk through the grounds of Magdalen +College, under the guidance of the president of that college, showed us +some of the fine trees for which I was always looking. One of these, a +wych-elm (Scotch elm of some books), was so large that I insisted on +having it measured. A string was procured and carefully carried round +the trunk, above the spread of the roots and below that of the branches, +so as to give the smallest circumference. I was curious to know how the +size of the trunk of this tree would compare with that of the trunks of +some of our largest New England elms. I have measured a good many of +these. About sixteen feet is the measurement of a large elm, like that +on Boston Common, which all middle-aged people remember. From twenty-two +to twenty-three feet is the ordinary maximum of the very largest trees. +I never found but one exceed it: that was the great Springfield elm, +which looked as if it might have been formed by the coalescence from the +earliest period of growth, of two young trees. When I measured this in +1837, it was twenty-four feet eight inches in circumference at five feet +from the ground; growing larger above and below. I remembered this tree +well, as we measured the string which was to tell the size of its +English rival. As we came near the end of the string, I felt as I did +when I was looking at the last dash of Ormonde and The Bard at +Epsom.--Twenty feet, and a long piece of string left.--Twenty-one. +--Twenty-two.--Twenty-three.--An extra heartbeat or two.--Twenty-four! +--Twenty-five and six inches over!!--The Springfield elm may have grown +a foot or more since I measured it, fifty years ago, but the tree at +Magdalen stands ahead of all my old measurements. Many of the fine old +trees, this in particular, may have been known in their younger days to +Addison, whose favorite walk is still pointed out to the visitor. + +I would not try to compare the two university towns, as one might who +had to choose between them. They have a noble rivalry, each honoring the +other, and it would take a great deal of weighing one point of +superiority against another to call either of them the first, except in +its claim to antiquity. + +After a garden-party in the afternoon, a pleasant evening at home, when +the professor played and his daughter Beatrice sang, and a garden-party +the next day, I found myself in somewhat better condition, and ready for +the next move. + +[Illustration: Magdalen College, Oxford.] + +At noon on the 23d of June we left for Edinburgh, stopping over night at +York, where we found close by the station an excellent hotel, and where +the next morning we got one of the best breakfasts we had in our whole +travelling experience. At York we wandered to and through a flower-show, +and _did_ the cathedral, as people _do_ all the sights they +see under the lead of a paid exhibitor, who goes through his lesson like +a sleepy old professor. I missed seeing the slab with the inscription +_miserrimus_. There may be other stones bearing this sad +superlative, but there is a story connected with this one, which sounds +as if it might be true. + +In the year 1834, I spent several weeks in Edinburgh. I was fascinated +by the singular beauties of that "romantic town," which Scott called his +own, and which holds his memory, with that of Burns, as a most precious +part of its inheritance. The castle with the precipitous rocky wall out +of which it grows, the deep ravines with their bridges, pleasant Calton +Hill and memorable Holyrood Palace, the new town and the old town with +their strange contrasts, and Arthur's Seat overlooking all,--these +varied and enchanting objects account for the fondness with which all +who have once seen Edinburgh will always regard it. + +We were the guests of Professor Alexander Crum Brown, a near relative of +the late beloved and admired Dr. John Brown. Professor and Mrs. Crum +Brown did everything to make our visit a pleasant one. We met at their +house many of the best known and most distinguished people of Scotland. +The son of Dr. John Brown dined with us on the day of our arrival, and +also a friend of the family, Mr. Barclay, to whom we made a visit on the +Sunday following. Among the visits I paid, none was more gratifying to +me than one which I made to Dr. John Brown's sister. No man could leave +a sweeter memory than the author of "Rab and his Friends," of "Pet +Marjorie," and other writings, all full of the same loving, human +spirit. I have often exchanged letters with him, and I thought how much +it would have added to the enjoyment of my visit if I could have taken +his warm hand and listened to his friendly voice. I brought home with me +a precious little manuscript, written expressly for me by one who had +known Dr. John Brown from the days of her girlhood, in which his +character appears in the same lovable and loving light as that which +shines in every page he himself has written. + +On Friday, the 25th, I went to the hall of the university, where I was +to receive the degree of LL.D. The ceremony was not unlike that at +Cambridge, but had one peculiar feature: the separate special investment +of the candidate with the _hood_, which Johnson defines as "an +ornamental fold which hangs down the back of a graduate." There were +great numbers of students present, and they showed the same exuberance +of spirits as that which had forced me to withdraw from the urgent calls +at Cambridge. The cries, if possible, were still louder and more +persistent; they must have a speech and they would have a speech, and +what could I do about it? I saw but one way of pacifying a crowd as +noisy and long-breathed as that which for about the space of two hours +cried out, "Great is Diana of the Ephesians!" So I stepped to the front +and made a brief speech, in which, of course, I spoke of the +"_perfervidum ingenium Scotorum_." A speech without that would have +been like that "Address without a Phoenix" before referred to. My few +remarks were well received, and quieted the shouting Ephesians of the +warm-brained and warm-hearted northern university. It gave me great +pleasure to meet my friend Mr. Underwood, now American consul in +Glasgow, where he has made himself highly esteemed and respected. + +In my previous visit to Edinburgh in 1834, I was fond of rambling along +under Salisbury Crags, and climbing the sides of Arthur's Seat. I had +neither time nor impulse for such walks during this visit, but in +driving out to dine at Nidrie, the fine old place now lived in by Mr. +Barclay and his daughters, we passed under the crags and by the side of +the great hill. I had never heard, or if I had I had forgotten, the name +and the story of "Samson's Ribs." These are the columnar masses of rock +which form the face of Salisbury Crags. There is a legend that one day +one of these pillars will fall and crush the greatest man that ever +passes under them. It is said that a certain professor was always very +shy of "Samson's Ribs," for fear the prophecy might be fulfilled in his +person. We were most hospitably received at Mr. Barclay's, and the +presence of his accomplished and pleasing daughters made the visit +memorable to both of us. There was one picture on their walls, that of a +lady, by Sir Joshua, which both of us found very captivating. This is +what is often happening in the visits we make. Some painting by a master +looks down upon us from its old canvas, and leaves a lasting copy of +itself, to be stored in memory's picture gallery. These surprises are +not so likely to happen in the New World as in the Old. + +It seemed cruel to be forced to tear ourselves away from Edinburgh, +where so much had been done to make us happy, where so much was left to +see and enjoy, but we were due in Oxford, where I was to receive the +last of the three degrees with which I was honored in Great Britain. + +Our visit to Scotland gave us a mere glimpse of the land and its people, +but I have a very vivid recollection of both as I saw them on my first +visit, when I made an excursion into the Highlands to Stirling and to +Glasgow, where I went to church, and wondered over the uncouth ancient +psalmody, which I believe is still retained in use to this day. I was +seasoned to that kind of poetry in my early days by the verses of Tate +and Brady, which I used to hear "entuned in the nose ful swetely," +accompanied by vigorous rasping of a huge bass-viol. No wonder that +Scotland welcomed the song of Burns! + +On our second visit to Oxford we were to be the guests of the +Vice-Chancellor of the university, Dr. Jowett. This famous scholar and +administrator lives in a very pleasant establishment, presided over by +the Muses, but without the aid of a Vice-Chancelloress. The hospitality +of this classic mansion is well known, and we added a second pleasant +chapter to our previous experience under the roof of Professor Max +Müller. There was a little company there before us, including the Lord +Chancellor and Lady Herschell, Lady Camilla Wallop, Mr. Browning, and +Mr. Lowell. We were too late, in consequence of the bad arrangement of +the trains, and had to dine by ourselves, as the whole party had gone +out to a dinner, to which we should have accompanied them had we not +been delayed. We sat up long enough to see them on their return, and +were glad to get to bed, after our day's journey from Edinburgh to +Oxford. + +At eleven o'clock on the following day we who were to receive degrees +met at Balliol College, whence we proceeded in solemn procession to the +Sheldonian Theatre. Among my companions on this occasion were Mr. John +Bright, the Lord Chancellor Herschell, and Mr. Aldis Wright. I have an +instantaneous photograph, which was sent me, of this procession. I can +identify Mr. Bright and myself, but hardly any of the others, though +many better acquainted with their faces would no doubt recognize them. +There is a certain sensation in finding one's self invested with the +academic gown, conspicuous by its red facings, and the cap with its +square top and depending tassel, which is not without its accompanying +satisfaction. One can walk the streets of any of the university towns in +his academic robes without being jeered at, as I am afraid he would be +in some of our own thoroughfares. There is a noticeable complacency in +the members of our Phi Beta Kappa society when they get the pink and +blue ribbons in their buttonholes, on the day of annual meeting. How +much more when the scholar is wrapped in those flowing folds, with their +flaming borders, and feels the dignity of the distinction of which they +are the symbol! I do not know how Mr. John Bright felt, but I cannot +avoid the impression that some in the ranks which moved from Balliol to +the Sheldonian felt as if Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like +the candidates for the degree of D.C.L. + +After my experience at Cambridge and Edinburgh, I might have felt some +apprehension about my reception at Oxford. I had always supposed the +audience assembled there at the conferring of degrees was a more +demonstrative one than that at any other of the universities, and I did +not wish to be forced into a retreat by calls for a speech, as I was at +Cambridge, nor to repeat my somewhat irregular proceeding of addressing +the audience, as at Edinburgh. But when I found that Mr. John Bright was +to be one of the recipients of the degree I felt safe, for if he made a +speech I should be justified in saying a few words, if I thought it +best; and if he, one of the most eloquent men in England, remained +silent, I surely need not make myself heard on the occasion. It was a +great triumph for him, a liberal leader, to receive the testimonial of a +degree from the old conservative university. To myself it was a graceful +and pleasing compliment; to him it was a grave and significant tribute. +As we marched through the crowd on our way from Balliol, the people +standing around recognized Mr. Bright, and cheered him vociferously. + +The exercises in the Sheldonian Theatre were more complex and lasted +longer than those at the other two universities. The candidate stepped +forward and listened to one sentence, then made another move forward and +listened to other words, and at last was welcomed to all the privileges +conferred by the degree of Doctor of Civil Law, which was announced as +being bestowed upon him. Mr. Bright, of course, was received with +immense enthusiasm. I had every reason to be gratified with my own +reception. The only "chaffing" I heard was the question from one of the +galleries, "Did he come in the One-Hoss Shay?"--at which there was a +hearty laugh, joined in as heartily by myself. A part of the +entertainment at this ceremony consisted in the listening to the reading +of short extracts from the prize essays, some or all of them in the dead +languages, which could not have been particularly intelligible to a +large part of the audience. During these readings there were frequent +_interpellations_, as the French call such interruptions, something +like these: "That will do, sir!" or "You had better stop, sir!" +--always, I noticed, with the sir at the end of the remark. With us it +would have been "Dry up!" or "Hold on!" At last came forward the young +poet of the occasion, who read an elaborate poem, "Savonarola," which +was listened to in most respectful silence, and loudly applauded at its +close, as I thought, deservedly. Prince and Princess Christian were +among the audience. They were staying with Professor and Mrs. Max +Müller, whose hospitalities I hope they enjoyed as much as we did. One +or two short extracts from A----'s diary will enliven my record: "The +Princess had a huge bouquet, and going down the aisle had to bow both +ways at once, it seemed to me: but then she has the Guelph spine and +neck! Of course it is necessary that royalty should have more elasticity +in the frame than we poor ordinary mortals. After all this we started +for a luncheon at All Souls, but had to wait (impatiently) for H. R. H. +to rest herself, while our resting was done standing." + +It is a long while since I read Madame d'Arblay's Recollections, but if +I remember right, _standing_ while royalty rests its bones is one +of the drawbacks to a maid of honor's felicity. + +"Finally, at near three, we went into a great luncheon of some fifty. +There were different tables, and I sat at the one with royalty. The +Provost of Oriel took me in, and Mr. Browning was on my other side. +Finally, we went home to rest, but the others started out again to go to +a garden-party, but that was beyond us." After all this came a +dinner-party of twenty at the Vice-Chancellor's, and after that a +reception, where among others we met Lord and Lady Coleridge, the lady +resplendent in jewels. Even after London, this could hardly be called a +day of rest. + +The Chinese have a punishment which consists simply in keeping the +subject of it awake, by the constant teasing of a succession of +individuals employed for the purpose. The best of our social pleasures, +if carried beyond the natural power of physical and mental endurance, +begin to approach the character of such a penance. After this we got a +little rest; did some mild sight-seeing, heard some good music, called +on the Max Müllers, and bade them good-by with the warmest feeling to +all the members of a household which it was a privilege to enter. There +only remained the parting from our kind entertainer, the +Vice-Chancellor, who added another to the list of places which in +England and Scotland were made dear to us by hospitality, and are +remembered as true homes to us while we were under their roofs. + +On the second day of July we left the Vice-Chancellor's, and went to the +Randolph Hotel to meet our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Willett, from Brighton, +with whom we had an appointment of long standing. With them we left +Oxford, to enter on the next stage of our pilgrimage. + + + + +IV. + + +It had been the intention of Mr. Willett to go with us to visit Mr. +Ruskin, with whom he is in the most friendly relations. But a letter +from Mr. Ruskin's sister spoke of his illness as being too serious for +him to see company, and we reluctantly gave up this part of our plan. + +My first wish was to revisit Stratford-on-Avon, and as our travelling +host was guided in everything by our inclinations, we took the cars for +Stratford, where we arrived at five o'clock in the afternoon. It had +been arranged beforehand that we should be the guests of Mr. Charles E. +Flower, one of the chief citizens of Stratford, who welcomed us to his +beautiful mansion in the most cordial way, and made us once more at home +under an English roof. + +I well remembered my visit to Stratford in 1834. The condition of the +old house in which Shakespeare was born was very different from that in +which we see it to-day. A series of photographs taken in different years +shows its gradual transformation since the time when the old projecting +angular sign-board told all who approached "The immortal Shakespeare was +born in this House." How near the old house came to sharing the fortunes +of Jumbo under the management of our enterprising countryman, Mr. +Barnum, I am not sure; but that he would have "traded" for it, if the +proprietors had been willing, I do not doubt, any more than I doubt that +he would make an offer for the Tower of London, if that venerable +structure were in the market. The house in which Shakespeare was born is +the Santa Casa of England. What with my recollections and the +photographs with which I was familiarly acquainted, it had nothing very +new for me. Its outside had undergone great changes, but its bare +interior was little altered. + +My previous visit was a hurried one,--I took but a glimpse, and then +went on my way. Now, for nearly a week I was a resident of +Stratford-on-Avon. How shall I describe the perfectly ideal beauty of +the new home in which I found myself! It is a fine house, surrounded by +delightful grounds, which skirt the banks of the Avon for a considerable +distance, and come close up to the enclosure of the Church of the Holy +Trinity, beneath the floor of which lie the mortal remains of +Shakespeare. The Avon is one of those narrow English rivers in which +half a dozen boats might lie side by side, but hardly wide enough for a +race between two rowing abreast of each other. Just here the river is +comparatively broad and quiet, there being a dam a little lower down the +stream. The waters were a perfect mirror, as I saw them on one of the +still days we had at Stratford. I do not remember ever before seeing +cows walking with their legs in the air, as I saw them reflected in the +Avon. Along the banks the young people were straying. I wondered if the +youthful swains quoted Shakespeare to their ladyloves. Could they help +recalling Romeo and Juliet? It is quite impossible to think of any human +being growing up in this place which claims Shakespeare as its child, +about the streets of which he ran as a boy, on the waters of which he +must have often floated, without having his image ever present. Is it +so? There are some boys, from eight to ten or a dozen years old, fishing +in the Avon, close by the grounds of "Avonbank," the place at which we +are staying. I call to the little group. I say, "Boys, who was this man +Shakespeare, people talk so much about?" Boys turn round and look up +with a plentiful lack of intelligence in their countenances. "Don't you +know who he was nor what he was?" Boys look at each other, but confess +ignorance.--Let us try the universal stimulant of human faculties. "Here +are some pennies for the boy that will tell me what that Mr. Shakespeare +was." The biggest boy finds his tongue at last. "He was a writer,--he +wrote plays." That was as much as I could get out of the youngling. I +remember meeting some boys under the monument upon Bunker Hill, and +testing their knowledge as I did that of the Stratford boys. "What is +this great stone pillar here for?" I asked. "Battle fought here,--great +battle." "Who fought?" "Americans and British." (I never hear the +expression Britishers.) "Who was the general on the American side?" +"Don' know,--General Washington or somebody."--What is an old battle, +though it may have settled the destinies of a nation, to the game of +base-ball between the Boston and Chicago Nines which is to come off +to-morrow, or to the game of marbles which Tom and Dick are just going +to play together under the shadow of the great obelisk which +commemorates the conflict? + +The room more especially assigned to me looked out, at a distance of not +more than a stone's-throw, on the northern aspect of the church where +Shakespeare lies buried. Workmen were busy on the roof of the transept. +I could not conveniently climb up to have a talk with the roofers, but I +have my doubts whether they were thinking all the time of the dust over +which they were working. How small a matter literature is to the great +seething, toiling, struggling, love-making, bread-winning, +child-rearing, death-awaiting men and women who fill this huge, +palpitating world of ours! It would be worth while to pass a week or a +month among the plain, average people of Stratford. What is the relative +importance in human well-being of the emendations of the text of Hamlet +and the patching of the old trousers and the darning of the old +stockings which task the needles of the hard-working households that +fight the battle of life in these narrow streets and alleys? I ask the +question; the reader may answer it. + +Our host, Mr. Flower, is more deeply interested, perhaps, than any other +individual in the "Shakespeare Memorial" buildings which have been +erected on the banks of the Avon, a short distance above the Church of +the Holy Trinity. Under Mr. Flower's guidance we got into one of his +boats, and were rowed up the stream to the Memorial edifice. There is a +theatre, in a round tower which has borrowed some traits from the +octagon "Globe" theatre of Shakespeare's day; a Shakespeare library and +portrait gallery are forming; and in due time these buildings, of +stately dimensions and built solidly of brick, will constitute a +Shakespearean centre which will attract to itself many mementoes now +scattered about in various parts of the country. + +On the 4th of July we remembered our native land with all the +affectionate pride of temporary exiles, and did not forget to drink at +lunch to the prosperity and continued happiness of the United States of +America. In the afternoon we took to the boat again, and were rowed up +the river to the residence of Mr. Edgar Flower, where we found another +characteristic English family, with its nine children, one of whom was +the typical English boy, most pleasing and attractive in look, voice, +and manner. + +I attempt no description of the church, the birthplace, or the other +constantly visited and often described localities. The noble bridge, +built in the reign of Henry VII. by Sir Hugh Clopton, and afterwards +widened, excited my admiration. It was a much finer piece of work than +the one built long afterwards. I have hardly seen anything which gave me +a more striking proof of the thoroughness of the old English workmen. +They built not for an age, but for all time, and the New Zealander will +have to wait a long while before he will find in any one of the older +bridges that broken arch from which he is to survey the ruins of London. + +It is very pleasant to pick up a new epithet to apply to the poet upon +whose genius our language has nearly exhausted itself. It delights me to +speak of him in the words which I have just found in a memoir not yet a +century old, as "the Warwickshire bard," "the inestimable Shakespeare." + +Ever since Miss Bacon made her insane attempt to unearth what is left of +Shakespeare's bodily frame, the thought of doing reverently and openly +what she would have done by stealth has been entertained by +psychologists, artists, and others who would like to know what were his +cranial developments, and to judge from the conformation of the skull +and face which of the various portraits is probably the true one. There +is little doubt that but for the curse invoked upon the person who +should disturb his bones, in the well-known lines on the slab which +covers him, he would rest, like Napoleon, like Washington, in a fitting +receptacle of marble or porphyry. In the transfer of his remains the +curiosity of men of science and artists would have been gratified, if +decay had spared the more durable portions of his material structure. It +was probably not against such a transfer that the lines were +written,--whoever was their author,--but in the fear that they would be +carried to the charnel-house. + +"In this charnel-house was contained a vast collection of human bones. +How long they had been deposited there is not easily to be determined; +but it is evident, from the immense quantity contained in the vault, it +could have been used for no other purpose for many ages." "It is +probable that from an early contemplation of this dreary spot +Shakespeare imbibed that horror of a violation of sepulture which is +observable in many parts of his writings." + +The body of Raphael was disinterred in 1833 to settle a question of +identity of the remains, and placed in a new coffin of lead, which was +deposited in a marble sarcophagus presented by the Pope. The +sarcophagus, with its contents, was replaced in the same spot from which +the remains had been taken. But for the inscription such a transfer of +the bones of Shakespeare would have been proposed, and possibly carried +out. Kings and emperors have frequently been treated in this way after +death, and the proposition is no more an indignity than was that of the +exhumation of the remains of Napoleon, or of André, or of the author of +"Home, Sweet Home." But sentiment, a tender regard for the supposed +wishes of the dead poet, and a natural dread of the consequences of +violating a dying wish, coupled with the execration of its contemner, +are too powerful for the arguments of science and the pleadings of art. +If Shakespeare's body had been embalmed,--which there is no reason that +I know of to suppose,--the desire to compare his features with the bust +and the portraits would have been much more imperative. When the body of +Charles the First was examined, under the direction of Sir Henry +Halford, in the presence of the Regent, afterwards George the Fourth, +the face would have been recognized at once by all who were acquainted +with Vandyke's portrait of the monarch, if the lithograph which comes +attached to Sir Henry's memoir is an accurate representation of what +they found. Even the bony framework of the face, as I have had occasion +to know, has sometimes a striking likeness to what it was when clothed +in its natural features. As between the first engraved portrait and the +bust in the church, the form of the bones of the head and face would +probably be decisive. But the world can afford to live without solving +this doubt, and leave his perishing vesture of decay to its repose. + +After seeing the Shakespeare shrines, we drove over to Shottery, and +visited the Anne Hathaway cottage. I am not sure whether I ever saw it +before, but it was as familiar to me as if I had lived in it. The old +lady who showed it was agreeably communicative, and in perfect keeping +with the place. + +A delightful excursion of ten or a dozen miles carried our party, +consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Flower, Mr. and Mrs. Willett, with A---- and +myself, to Compton Wynyate, a most interesting old mansion, belonging to +the Marquis of Northampton, who, with his daughter-in-law, Lady William +Compton, welcomed us and showed us all the wonders of the place. It was +a fine morning, but hot enough for one of our American July days. The +drive was through English rural scenery; that is to say, it was lovely. +The old house is a great curiosity. It was built in the reign of Henry +the Eighth, and has passed through many vicissitudes. The place, as well +as the edifice, is a study for the antiquarian. Remains of the old moat +which surrounded it are still distinguishable. The twisted and variously +figured chimneys are of singular variety and exceptional forms. Compton +_Wynyate_ is thought to get its name from the vineyards formerly +under cultivation on the hillsides, which show the signs of having been +laid out in terraces. The great hall, with its gallery, and its +hangings, and the long table made from the trunk of a single tree, +carries one back into the past centuries. There are strange nooks and +corners and passages in the old building, and one place, a queer little +"cubby-hole," has the appearance of having been a Roman Catholic chapel. +I asked the master of the house, who pointed out the curiosities of the +place most courteously, about the ghosts who of course were tenants in +common with the living proprietors. I was surprised when he told me +there were none. It was incredible, for here was every accommodation for +a spiritual visitant. I should have expected at least one haunted +chamber, to say nothing of blood-stains that could never be got rid of; +but there were no legends of the supernatural or the terrible. + +Refreshments were served us, among which were some hot-house peaches, +ethereally delicate as if they had grown in the Elysian Fields and been +stolen from a banquet of angels. After this we went out on the lawn, +where, at Lady William Compton's request, I recited one or two poems; +the only time I did such a thing in England. + +It seems as if Compton Wynyate must have been written about in some +novel or romance,--perhaps in more than one of both. It is the place of +all others to be the scene of a romantic story. It lies so hidden away +among the hills that its vulgar name, according to old Camden, was +"Compton in the Hole." I am not sure that it was the scene of any actual +conflict, but it narrowly escaped demolition in the great civil war, and +in 1646 it was garrisoned by the Parliament army. + +On the afternoon of July 6th, our hosts had a large garden-party. If +nothing is more trying than one of these out-of-door meetings on a cold, +windy, damp day, nothing can be more delightful than such a social +gathering if the place and the weather are just what we could wish them. +The garden-party of this afternoon was as near perfection as such a +meeting could well be. The day was bright and warm, but not +uncomfortably hot, to me, at least. The company strolled about the +grounds, or rested on the piazzas, or watched the birds in the aviary, +or studied rudimentary humanity in the monkey, or, better still, in a +charming baby, for the first time on exhibition since she made the +acquaintance of sunshine. Every one could dispose of himself or herself +as fancy might suggest. I broke away at one time, and wandered alone by +the side of the Avon, under the shadow of the tall trees upon its bank. +The whole scene was as poetical, as inspiring, as any that I remember. +It would be easy to write verses about it, but unwritten poems are so +much better! + +One reminiscence of that afternoon claims precedence over all the rest. +The reader must not forget that I have been a medical practitioner, and +for thirty-five years a professor in a medical school. Among the guests +whom I met in the grounds was a gentleman of the medical profession, +whose name I had often heard, and whom I was very glad to see and talk +with. This was Mr. Lawson Tait, F.R.C.S., M.D., of Birmingham. Mr., or +more properly Dr., Tait has had the most extraordinary success in a +class of cases long considered beyond the reach of surgery. If I refer +to it as a scientific _hari kari_, not for the taking but for the +saving of life, I shall come near enough to its description. This +operation is said to have been first performed by an American surgeon in +Danville, Kentucky, in the year 1809. So rash and dangerous did it seem +to most of the profession that it was sometimes spoken of as if to +attempt it were a crime. Gradually, however, by improved methods, and +especially by the most assiduous care in nursing the patient after the +operation, the mortality grew less and less, until it was recognized as +a legitimate and indeed an invaluable addition to the resources of +surgery. Mr. Lawson Tait has had, so far as I have been able to learn, +the most wonderful series of successful cases on record: namely, one +hundred and thirty-nine consecutive operations without a single death. + +As I sat by the side of this great surgeon, a question suggested itself +to my mind which I leave the reader to think over. Which would give the +most satisfaction to a thoroughly humane and unselfish being, of +cultivated intelligence and lively sensibilities: to have written all +the plays which Shakespeare has left as an inheritance for mankind, or +to have snatched from the jaws of death more than a hundred fellow- +creatures,--almost seven scores of suffering women,--and restored them +to sound and comfortable existence? It would be curious to get the +answers of a hundred men and a hundred women, of a hundred young people +and a hundred old ones, of a hundred scholars and a hundred operatives. +My own specialty is asking questions, not answering them, and I trust I +shall not receive a peck or two of letters inquiring of me how I should +choose if such a question were asked me. It may prove as fertile a +source of dispute as "The Lady or the Tiger." + +It would have been a great thing to pass a single night close to the +church where Shakespeare's dust lies buried. A single visit by daylight +leaves a comparatively slight impression. But when, after a night's +sleep, one wakes up and sees the spire and the old walls full before +him, that impression is very greatly deepened, and the whole scene +becomes far more a reality. Now I was nearly a whole week at +Stratford-on-Avon. The church, its exterior, its interior, the +birthplace, the river, had time to make themselves permanent images in +my mind. To effect this requires a certain amount of exposure, as much +as in the case of a photographic negative. + + * * * * * + +And so we bade good-by to Stratford-on-Avon and its hospitalities, with +grateful remembrances of our kind entertainers and all they did for our +comfort and enjoyment. + +Where should we go next? Our travelling host proposed Great Malvern, a +famous watering-place, where we should find peace, rest, and good +accommodations. So there we went, and soon found ourselves installed at +the "Foley Arms" hotel. The room I was shown to looked out upon an +apothecary's shop, and from the window of that shop stared out upon me a +plaster bust which I recognized as that of Samuel Hahnemann. I was glad +to change to another apartment, but it may be a comfort to some of his +American followers to know that traces of homoeopathy,--or what still +continues to call itself so,--survive in the Old World, which we have +understood was pretty well tired of it. + +We spent several days very pleasantly at Great Malvern. It lies at the +foot of a range of hills, the loftiest of which is over a thousand feet +in height. A---- and I thought we would go to the top of one of these, +known as the Beacon. We hired a "four-wheeler," dragged by a +much-enduring horse and in charge of a civil young man. We turned out of +one of the streets not far from the hotel, and found ourselves facing an +ascent which looked like what I should suppose would be a pretty steep +toboggan slide. We both drew back. _"Facilis ascensus,"_ I said to +myself, _"sed revocare gradum."_ It is easy enough to get up if you +are dragged up, but how will it be to come down such a declivity? When +we reached it on our return, the semi-precipice had lost all its +terrors. We had seen and travelled over so much worse places that this +little bit of slanting road seemed as nothing. The road which wound up +to the summit of the Beacon was narrow and uneven. It ran close to the +edge of the steep hillside,--so close that there were times when every +one of our forty digits curled up like a bird's claw. If we went over, +it would not be a fall down a good honest precipice,--a swish through +the air and a smash at the bottom,--but a tumbling, and a rolling over +and over, and a bouncing and bumping, ever accelerating, until we +bounded into the level below, all ready for the coroner. At one sudden +turn of the road the horse's body projected so far over its edge that +A---- declared if the beast had been an inch longer he would have +toppled over. When we got close to the summit we found the wind blowing +almost a gale. A---- says in her diary that I (meaning her honored +parent) "nearly blew off from the top of the mountain." It is true that +the force of the wind was something fearful, and seeing that two young +men near me were exposed to its fury, I offered an arm to each of them, +which they were not too proud to accept; A---- was equally attentive to +another young person; and having seen as much of the prospect as we +cared to, we were glad to get back to our four-wheeler and our hotel, +after a perilous journey almost comparable to Mark Twain's ascent of the +Riffelberg. + +At Great Malvern we were deliciously idle. We walked about the place, +rested quietly, drove into the neighboring country, and made a single +excursion,--to Tewkesbury. There are few places better worth seeing than +this fine old town, full of historical associations and monumental +relics. The magnificent old abbey church is the central object of +interest. The noble Norman tower, one hundred and thirty-two feet in +height, was once surmounted by a spire, which fell during divine service +on Easter Day of the year 1559. The arch of the west entrance is sixteen +feet high and thirty-four feet wide. The fourteen columns of the nave +are each six feet and three inches in diameter and thirty feet in +height. I did not take these measurements from the fabric itself, but +from the guidebook, and I give them here instead of saying that the +columns were huge, enormous, colossal, as they did most assuredly seem +to me. The old houses of Tewkesbury compare well with the finest of +those in Chester. I have a photograph before me of one of them, in which +each of the three upper floors overhangs the one beneath it, and the +windows in the pointed gable above project over those of the fourth +floor. + +I ought to have visited the site of Holme Castle, the name of which +reminds me of my own origin. "The meaning of the Saxon word 'Holme' is a +meadow surrounded with brooks, and here not only did the castle bear the +name, but the meadow is described as the 'Holme,--where the castle +was.'" The final _s_ in the name as we spell it is a frequent +addition to old English names, as Camden mentions, giving the name +Holmes among the examples. As there is no castle at the Holme now, I +need not pursue my inquiries any further. It was by accident that I +stumbled on this bit of archaeology, and as I have a good many +namesakes, it may perhaps please some of them to be told about it. Few +of us hold any castles, I think, in these days, except those _châteaux +en Espagne_, of which I doubt not, many of us are lords and masters. + +In another of our excursions we visited a venerable church, where our +attention was called to a particular monument. It was erected to the +memory of one of the best of husbands by his "wretched widow," who +records upon the marble that there never was such a man on the face of +the earth before, and never will be again, and that there never was +anybody so miserable as she,--no, never, never, never! These are not the +exact words, but this is pretty nearly what she declares. The story is +that she married again within a year. + +From my window at the Foley Arms I can see the tower of the fine old +abbey church of Malvern, which would be a centre of pilgrimages if it +were in our country. But England is full of such monumental structures, +into the history of which the local antiquarians burrow, and pass their +peaceful lives in studying and writing about them with the same innocent +enthusiasm that White of Selborne manifested in studying nature as his +village showed it to him. + +In our long drives we have seen everywhere the same picturesque old +cottages, with the pretty gardens, and abundant flowers, and noble +trees, more frequently elms than any other. One day--it was on the 10th +of July--we found ourselves driving through what seemed to be a +gentleman's estate, an ample domain, well wooded and well kept. On +inquiring to whom this place belonged, I was told that the owner was Sir +Edmund Lechmere. The name had a very familiar sound to my ears. Without +rising from the table at which I am now writing, I have only to turn my +head, and in full view, at the distance of a mile, just across the +estuary of the Charles, shining in the morning sun, are the roofs and +spires and chimneys of East Cambridge, always known in my younger days +as Lechmere's Point. Judge Richard Lechmere was one of our old Cambridge +Tories, whose property was confiscated at the time of the Revolution. An +engraving of his handsome house, which stands next to the Vassall house, +long known as Washington's headquarters, and since not less celebrated +as the residence of Longfellow, is before me, on one of the pages of the +pleasing little volume, "The Cambridge of 1776." I take it for granted +that our Lechmeres were of the same stock as the owner of this property. +If so, he probably knows all that I could tell him about his colonial +relatives, who were very grand people, belonging to a little +aristocratic circle of friends and relatives who were faithful to their +king and their church. The Baroness Riedesel, wife of a Hessian officer +who had been captured, was for a while resident in this house, and her +name, scratched on a window-pane, was long shown as a sight for eyes +unused to titles other than governor, judge, colonel, and the like. I +was tempted to present myself at Sir Edmund's door as one who knew +something about the Lechmeres in America, but I did not feel sure how +cordially a descendant of the rebels who drove off Richard and Mary +Lechmere would be received. + +From Great Malvern we went to Bath, another place where we could rest +and be comfortable. The Grand Pump-Room Hotel was a stately building, +and the bath-rooms were far beyond anything I had ever seen of that +kind. The remains of the old Roman baths, which appear to have been very +extensive, are partially exposed. What surprises one all over the Old +World is to see how deeply all the old civilizations contrive to get +buried. Everybody seems to have lived in the cellar. It is hard to +believe that the cellar floor was once the sun surface of the smiling +earth. + +I looked forward to seeing Bath with a curious kind of interest. I once +knew one of those dear old English ladies whom one finds all the world +over, with their prim little ways, and their gilt prayer-books, and +lavender-scented handkerchiefs, and family recollections. She gave me +the idea that Bath, a city where the great people often congregate, was +more especially the paradise of decayed gentlewomen. There, she told me, +persons with very narrow incomes--not _demi-fortunes_, but +_demi-quart-de-fortunes_--could find everything arranged to +accommodate their modest incomes. I saw the evidence of this everywhere. +So great was the delight I had in looking in at the shop-windows of the +long street which seemed to be one of the chief thoroughfares that, +after exploring it in its full extent by myself, I went for A----, and +led her down one side its whole length and up the other. In these shops +the precious old dears could buy everything they wanted in the most +minute quantities. Such tempting heaps of lumps of white sugar, only +twopence! Such delectable cakes, two for a penny! Such seductive scraps +of meat, which would make a breakfast nourishing as well as relishing, +possibly even what called itself a dinner, blushing to see themselves +labelled threepence or fourpence! We did not know whether to smile or to +drop a tear, as we contemplated these baits hung out to tempt the coins +from the exiguous purses of ancient maidens, forlorn widows, withered +annuitants, stranded humanity in every stage of shipwrecked penury. I am +reminded of Thackeray's "Jack Spiggot." "And what are your pursuits, +Jack? says I. 'Sold out when the governor died. Mother lives at Bath. Go +down there once a year for a week. Dreadful slow. Shilling whist.'" Mrs. +Gaskell's picture of "Cranford" is said to have been drawn from a +village in Cheshire, but Bath must have a great deal in common with its +"elegant economies." Do not make the mistake, however, of supposing that +this splendid watering-place, sometimes spoken of as "the handsomest +city in Britain," is only a city of refuge for people that have seen +better days. Lord Macaulay speaks of it as "that beautiful city which +charms even eyes familiar with the masterpieces of Bramante and +Palladio." If it is not quite so conspicuous as a fashionable resort as +it was in the days of Beau Nash or of Christopher Anstey, it has never +lost its popularity. Chesterfield writes in 1764, "The number of people +in this place is infinite," and at the present time the annual influx of +visitors is said to vary from ten to fourteen thousand. Many of its +public buildings are fine, and the abbey church, dating from 1499, is an +object of much curiosity, especially on account of the sculptures on its +western façade. These represent two ladders, with angels going up and +down upon them,--suggested by a dream of the founder of the church, +repeating that of Jacob. + +On the 14th of July we left Bath for Salisbury. While passing Westbury, +one of our fellow-passengers exclaimed, "Look out! Look out!" "What is +it?" "The horse! the horse!" All our heads turned to the window, and all +our eyes fastened on the figure of a white horse, upon a hillside some +miles distant. This was not the white horse which Mr. Thomas Hughes has +made famous, but one of much less archaic aspect and more questionable +history. A little book which we bought tells us all we care to know +about it. "It is formed by excoriating the turf over the steep slope of +the northern escarpment of Salisbury Plain." It was "remodelled" in +1778, and "restored" in 1873 at a cost of between sixty and seventy +pounds. It is said that a smaller and ruder horse stood here from time +immemorial, and was made to commemorate a victory of Alfred over the +Danes. However that may be, the horse we now see on the hillside is a +very modern-looking and well-shaped animal, and is of the following +dimensions: length, 170 feet; height from highest part of back, 128 +feet; thickness of body, 55 feet; length of head, 50 feet; eye, 6 by 8 +feet. It is a very pretty little object as we see it in the distance. + +Salisbury Cathedral was my first love among all the wonderful +ecclesiastical buildings which I saw during my earlier journey. I looked +forward to seeing it again with great anticipations of pleasure, which +were more than realized. + +Our travelling host had taken a whole house in the Close,--a privileged +enclosure, containing the cathedral, the bishop's palace, houses of the +clergy, and a limited number of private residences, one of the very best +of which was given over entirely into the hands of our party during our +visit. The house was about as near the cathedral as Mr. Flower's house, +where we stayed at Stratford-on-Avon, was to the Church of the Holy +Trinity. It was very completely furnished, and in the room assigned to +me as my library I found books in various languages, showing that the +residence was that of a scholarly person. + +If one had to name the apple of the eye of England, I think he would be +likely to say that Salisbury Cathedral was as near as he could come to +it, and that the white of the eye was Salisbury Close. The cathedral is +surrounded by a high wall, the gates of which,--its eyelids,--are closed +every night at a seasonable hour, at which the virtuous inhabitants are +expected to be in their safe and sacred quarters. Houses within this +hallowed precinct naturally bring a higher rent than those of the +unsanctified and unprotected region outside of its walls. It is a realm +of peace, glorified by the divine edifice, which lifts the least +imaginative soul upward to the heavens its spire seems trying to reach; +beautified by rows of noble elms which stretch high aloft, as if in +emulation of the spire; beatified by holy memories of the good and great +men who have worn their lives out in the service of the church of which +it is one of the noblest temples. + +For a whole week we lived under the shadow of the spire of the great +cathedral. Our house was opposite the north transept, only separated by +the road in front of it from the cathedral grounds. Here, as at +Stratford, I learned what it was to awake morning after morning and find +that I was not dreaming, but there in the truth-telling daylight the +object of my admiration, devotion, almost worship, stood before me. I +need not here say anything more of the cathedral, except that its +perfect exterior is hardly equalled in beauty by its interior, which +looks somewhat bare and cold. It was my impression that there is more to +study than to admire in the interior, but I saw the cathedral so much +oftener on the outside than on the inside that I may not have done +justice to the latter aspect of the noble building. + +Nothing could be more restful than our week at Salisbury. There was +enough in the old town besides the cathedral to interest us,--old +buildings, a museum, full of curious objects, and the old town itself. +When I was there the first time, I remember that we picked up a +guide-book in which we found a verse that has remained in my memory ever +since. It is an epitaph on a native of Salisbury who died in Venice. + + "Born in the English Venice, thou didst dye + Dear Friend, in the Italian Salisbury." + +This would be hard to understand except for the explanation which the +local antiquarians give us of its significance. The Wiltshire Avon flows +by or through the town, which is drained by brooks that run through its +streets. These, which used to be open, are now covered over, and thus +the epitaph becomes somewhat puzzling, as there is nothing to remind one +of Venice in walking about the town. + +While at Salisbury we made several excursions: to Old Sarum; to +Bemerton, where we saw the residence of holy George Herbert, and visited +the little atom of a church in which he ministered; to Clarendon Park; +to Wilton, the seat of the Earl of Pembroke, a most interesting place +for itself and its recollections; and lastly to Stonehenge. My second +visit to the great stones after so long an interval was a strange +experience. But what is half a century to a place like Stonehenge? +Nothing dwarfs an individual life like one of these massive, almost +unchanging monuments of an antiquity which refuses to be measured. The +"Shepherd of Salisbury Plain" was represented by an old man, who told +all he knew and a good deal more about the great stones, and sheared a +living, not from sheep, but from visitors, in the shape of shillings and +sixpences. I saw nothing that wore unwoven wool on its back in the +neighborhood of the monuments, but sheep are shown straggling among them +in the photographs. + +The broken circle of stones, some in their original position, some +bending over like old men, some lying prostrate, suggested the thoughts +which took form in the following verses. They were read at the annual +meeting, in January, of the class which graduated at Harvard College in +the year 1829. Eight of the fifty-nine men who graduated sat round the +small table. There were several other classmates living, but infirmity, +distance, and other peremptory reasons kept them from being with us. I +have read forty poems at our successive annual meetings. I will +introduce this last one by quoting a stanza from the poem I read in +1851:-- + + As one by one is falling + Beneath the leaves or snows, + Each memory still recalling + The broken ring shall close, + Till the night winds softly pass + O'er the green and growing grass, + Where it waves on the graves + Of the "Boys of 'Twenty-nine." + + THE BROKEN CIRCLE. + + I stood on Sarum's treeless plain, + The waste that careless Nature owns; + Lone tenants of her bleak domain, + Loomed huge and gray the Druid stones. + + Upheaved in many a billowy mound + The sea-like, naked turf arose, + Where wandering flocks went nibbling round + The mingled graves of friends and foes. + + The Briton, Roman, Saxon, Dane, + This windy desert roamed in turn; + Unmoved these mighty blocks remain + Whose story none that lives may learn. + + Erect, half buried, slant or prone, + These awful listeners, blind and dumb, + Hear the strange tongues of tribes unknown, + As wave on wave they go and come. + + "Who are you, giants, whence and why?" + I stand and ask in blank amaze; + My soul accepts their mute reply: + "A mystery, as are you that gaze. + + "A silent Orpheus wrought the charm + From riven rocks their spoils to bring; + A nameless Titan lent his arm + To range us in our magic ring. + + "But Time with still and stealthy stride, + That climbs and treads and levels all, + That bids the loosening keystone slide, + And topples down the crumbling wall,-- + + "Time, that unbuilds the quarried past, + Leans on these wrecks that press the sod; + They slant, they stoop, they fall at last, + And strew the turf their priests have trod. + + "No more our altar's wreath of smoke + Floats up with morning's fragrant dew; + The fires are dead, the ring is broke, + Where stood the many stand the few." + + --My thoughts had wandered far away, + Borne off on Memory's outspread wing, + To where in deepening twilight lay + The wrecks of friendship's broken ring. + + Ah me! of all our goodly train + How few will find our banquet hall! + Yet why with coward lips complain + That this must lean and that must fall? + + Cold is the Druid's altar-stone, + Its vanished flame no more returns; + But ours no chilling damp has known,-- + Unchanged, unchanging, still it burns. + + So let our broken circle stand + A wreck, a remnant, yet the same, + While one last, loving, faithful hand + Still lives to feed its altar-flame! + +My heart has gone back over the waters to my old friends and my own +home. When this vision has faded, I will return to the silence of the +lovely Close and the shadow of the great Cathedral. + + + + +V. + + +The remembrance of home, with its early and precious and long-enduring +friendships, has intruded itself among my recollections of what I saw +and heard, of what I felt and thought, in the distant land I was +visiting. I must return to the scene where I found myself when the +suggestion of the broken circle ran away with my imagination. + +The literature of Stonehenge is extensive, and illustrates the weakness +of archaeologists almost as well as the "Praetorium" of Scott's +"Antiquary." "In 1823," says a local handbook, "H. Browne, of Amesbury, +published 'An Illustration of Stonehenge and Abury,' in which he +endeavored to show that both of these monuments were antediluvian, and +that the latter was formed under the direction of Adam. He ascribes the +present dilapidated condition of Stonehenge to the operation of the +general deluge; for, he adds, 'to suppose it to be the work of any +people since the flood is entirely monstrous.'" + +We know well enough how great stones--pillars and obelisks--are brought +into place by means of our modern appliances. But if the great blocks +were raised by a mob of naked Picts, or any tribe that knew none of the +mechanical powers but the lever, how did they set them up and lay the +cross-stones, the imposts, upon the uprights? It is pleasant, once in a +while, to think how we should have managed any such matters as this if +left to our natural resources. We are all interested in the make-shifts +of Robinson Crusoe. Now the rudest tribes make cords of some kind, and +the earliest, or almost the earliest, of artificial structures is an +earth-mound. If a hundred, or hundreds, of men could drag the huge +stones many leagues, as they must have done to bring them to their +destined place, they could have drawn each of them up a long slanting +mound ending in a sharp declivity, with a hole for the foot of the stone +at its base. If the stone were now tipped over, it would slide into its +place, and could be easily raised from its slanting position to the +perpendicular. Then filling in the space between the mound and two +contiguous stones, the impost could be dragged up to its position. I +found a pleasure in working at this simple mechanical problem, as a +change from the more imaginative thoughts suggested by the mysterious +monuments. + +One incident of our excursion to Stonehenge had a significance for me +which renders it memorable in my personal experience. As we drove over +the barren plain, one of the party suddenly exclaimed, "Look! Look! See +the lark rising!" I looked up with the rest. There was the bright blue +sky, but not a speck upon it which my eyes could distinguish. Again, one +called out, "Hark! Hark! Hear him singing!" I listened, but not a sound +reached my ear. Was it strange that I felt a momentary pang? _Those +that look out at the windows are darkened, and all the daughters of +music are brought low._ Was I never to see or hear the soaring +songster at Heaven's gate,--unless,--unless,--if our mild humanized +theology promises truly, I may perhaps hereafter listen to him singing +far down beneath me? For in whatever world I may find myself, I hope I +shall always love our poor little spheroid, so long my home, which some +kind angel may point out to me as a gilded globule swimming in the +sunlight far away. After walking the streets of pure gold in the New +Jerusalem, might not one like a short vacation, to visit the +well-remembered green fields and flowery meadows? I had a very sweet +emotion of self-pity, which took the sting out of my painful discovery +that the orchestra of my pleasing life-entertainment was unstringing its +instruments, and the lights were being extinguished,--that the show was +almost over. All this I kept to myself, of course, except so far as I +whispered it to the unseen presence which we all feel is in sympathy +with us, and which, as it seemed to my fancy, was looking into my eyes, +and through them into my soul, with the tender, tearful smile of a +mother who for the first time gently presses back the longing lips of +her as yet unweaned infant. + +On our way back from Stonehenge we stopped and took a cup of tea with a +friend of our host, Mr. Nightingale. His house, a bachelor +establishment, was very attractive to us by the beauty within and around +it. His collection of "china," as Pope and old-fashioned people call all +sorts of earthenware, excited the enthusiasm of our host, whose +admiration of some rare pieces in the collection was so great that it +would have run into envy in a less generous nature. + +It is very delightful to find one's self in one of these English country +residences. The house is commonly old, and has a history. It is +oftentimes itself a record, like that old farmhouse my friend John +Bellows wrote to me about, which chronicled half a dozen reigns by +various architectural marks as exactly as if it had been an official +register. "The stately homes of England," as we see them at Wilton and +Longford Castle, are not more admirable in their splendors than "the +blessed homes of England" in their modest beauty. Everywhere one may see +here old parsonages by the side of ivy-mantled churches, and the +comfortable mansions where generations of country squires have lived in +peace, while their sons have gone forth to fight England's battles, and +carry her flags of war and commerce all over the world. We in America +can hardly be said to have such a possession as a family home. We +encamp,--not under canvas, but in fabrics of wood or more lasting +materials, which are pulled down after a brief occupancy by the +builders, and possibly their children, or are modernized so that the +former dwellers in them would never recognize their old habitations. + +In my various excursions from Salisbury I was followed everywhere by the +all-pervading presence of the towering spire. Just what it was in that +earlier visit, when my eyes were undimmed and my sensibilities unworn, +just such I found it now. As one drives away from the town, the roofs of +the houses drop out of the landscape, the lesser spires disappear one by +one, until the great shaft is left standing alone,--solitary as the +broken statue of Ozymandias in the desert, as the mast of some mighty +ship above the waves which have rolled over the foundering vessel. Most +persons will, I think, own to a feeling of awe in looking up at it. Few +can look down from a great height without creepings and crispations, if +they do not get as far as vertigos and that aerial calenture which +prompts them to jump from the pinnacle on which they are standing. It +does not take much imagination to make one experience something of the +same feeling in looking up at a very tall steeple or chimney. To one +whose eyes are used to Park Street and the Old South steeples as +standards of height, a spire which climbs four hundred feet towards the +sky is a new sensation. Whether I am more "afraid of that which is high" +than I was at my first visit, as I should be on the authority of +Ecclesiastes, I cannot say, but it was quite enough for me to let my +eyes climb the spire, and I had no desire whatever to stand upon that +"bad eminence," as I am sure that I should have found it. + +I soon noticed a slight deflection from the perpendicular at the upper +part of the spire. This has long been observed. I could not say that I +saw the spire quivering in the wind, as I felt that of Strasburg doing +when I ascended it,--swaying like a blade of grass when a breath of air +passes over it. But it has been, for at least two hundred years, nearly +two feet out of the perpendicular. No increase in the deviation was +found to exist when it was examined early in the present century. It is +a wonder that this slight-looking structure can have survived the +blasts, and thunderbolts, and earthquakes, and the weakening effects of +time on its stones and timbers for five hundred years. Since the spire +of Chichester Cathedral fell in 1861, sheathing itself in its tower like +a sword dropping into its scabbard, one can hardly help looking with +apprehension at all these lofty fabrics. I have before referred to the +fall of the spire of Tewkesbury Abbey church, three centuries earlier. +There has been a good deal of fear for the Salisbury spire, and great +precautions have been taken to keep it firm, so that we may hope it will +stand for another five hundred years. It ought to be a "joy forever," +for it is a thing of beauty, if ever there were one. + +I never felt inclined to play the part of the young enthusiast in +"Excelsior," as I looked up at the weathercock which surmounts the +spire. But the man who oils the weathercock-spindle has to get up to it +in some way, and that way is by ladders which reach to within thirty +feet of the top, where there is a small door, through which he emerges, +to crawl up the remaining distance on the outside. "The situation and +appearance," says one of the guide-books, "must be terrific, yet many +persons have voluntarily and daringly clambered to the top, even in a +state of intoxication." Such, I feel sure, was not the state of my most +valued and exemplary clerical friend, who, with a cool head and steady +nerves, found himself standing in safety at the top of the spire, with +his hand upon the vane, which nothing terrestrial had ever looked down +upon in its lofty position, except a bird, a bat, a sky-rocket, or a +balloon. + +In saying that the exterior of Salisbury Cathedral is more interesting +than its interior, I was perhaps unfair to the latter, which only yields +to the surpassing claims of the wonderful structure as seen from the +outside. One may get a little tired of marble Crusaders, with their +crossed legs and broken noses, especially if, as one sometimes finds +them, they are covered with the pencilled autographs of cockney +scribblers. But there are monuments in this cathedral which excite +curiosity, and others which awaken the most striking associations. There +is the "Boy Bishop," his marble effigy protected from vandalism by an +iron cage. There is the skeleton figure representing Fox (who should +have been called Goose), the poor creature who starved himself to death +in trying to imitate the fast of forty days in the wilderness. Since +this performance has been taken out of the list of miracles, it is not +so likely to be repeated by fanatics. I confess to a strong suspicion +that this is one of the ambulatory or movable stories, like the +"hangman's stone" legend, which I have found in so many different parts +of England. Skulls and crossbones, sometimes skeletons or skeleton-like +figures, are not uncommon among the sepulchral embellishments of an +earlier period. Where one of these figures is found, the forty-day-fast +story is likely to grow out of it, as the mistletoe springs from the oak +or apple tree. + +With far different emotions we look upon the spot where lie buried many +of the Herbert family, among the rest, + + "Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother," + +for whom Ben Jonson wrote the celebrated epitaph. I am almost afraid to +say it, but I never could admire the line, + + "Lies the subject of all verse," + +nor the idea of Time dropping his hour-glass and scythe to throw a dart +at the fleshless figure of Death. This last image seems to me about the +equivalent in mortuary poetry of Roubiliac's monument to Mrs. +Nightingale in mortuary sculpture,--poor conceits both of them, without +the suggestion of a tear in the verses or in the marble; but the +rhetorical exaggeration does not prevent us from feeling that we are +standing by the resting-place of one who was + + "learn'd and fair and good" + +enough to stir the soul of stalwart Ben Jonson, and the names of Sidney +and Herbert make us forget the strange hyperboles. + +History meets us everywhere, as we stray among these ancient monuments. +Under that effigy lie the great bones of Sir John Cheyne, a mighty man +of war, said to have been "overthrown" by Richard the Third at the +battle of Bosworth Field. What was left of him was unearthed in 1789 in +the demolition of the Beauchamp chapel, and his thigh-bone was found to +be four inches longer than that of a man of common stature. + +The reader may remember how my recollections started from their +hiding-place when I came, in one of our excursions, upon the name of +Lechmere, as belonging to the owner of a fine estate by or through which +we were driving. I had a similar twinge of reminiscence at meeting with +the name of Gorges, which is perpetuated by a stately monument at the +end of the north aisle of the cathedral. Sir Thomas Gorges, Knight of +Longford Castle, may or may not have been of the same family as the +well-remembered grandiose personage of the New England Pilgrim period. +The title this gentleman bore had a far more magnificent sound than +those of his contemporaries, Governor Carver and Elder Brewster. No +title ever borne among us has filled the mouth quite so full as that of +"Sir Ferdinando Gorges, Lord Palatine of the Province of Maine," a +province with "Gorgeana" (late the plantation of Agamenticus) as its +capital. Everywhere in England a New Englander is constantly meeting +with names of families and places which remind him that he comes of a +graft from an old tree on a new stock. I could not keep down the +associations called up by the name of Gorges. There is a certain +pleasure in now and then sprinkling our prosaic colonial history with +the holy water of a high-sounding title; not that a "Sir" before a man's +name makes him any better,--for are we not all equal, and more than +equal, to each other?--but it sounds pleasantly. Sir Harry Vane and Sir +Harry Frankland look prettily on the printed page, as the illuminated +capital at the head of a chapter in an old folio pleases the eye of the +reader. Sir Thomas Gorges was the builder of Longford Castle, now the +seat of the Earl of Radnor, whose family name is Bouverie. Whether our +Sir Ferdinando was of the Longford Castle stock or not I must leave to +my associates of the Massachusetts Historical Society to determine. + +We lived very quietly at our temporary home in Salisbury Close. A +pleasant dinner with the Dean, a stroll through the grounds of the +episcopal palace, with that perpetual feast of the eyes which the +cathedral offered us, made our residence delightful at the time, and +keeps it so in remembrance. Besides the cathedral there were the very +lovely cloisters, the noble chapter-house with its central pillar,--this +structure has been restored and rejuvenated since my earlier visit,--and +there were the peaceful dwellings, where I insist on believing that only +virtue and happiness are ever tenants. Even outside the sacred enclosure +there is a great deal to enjoy, in the ancient town of Salisbury. One +may rest under the Poultry Cross, where twenty or thirty generations +have rested before him. One may purchase his china at the well-furnished +establishment of the tenant of a spacious apartment of ancient +date,--"the Halle of John Halle," a fine private edifice built in the +year 1470, restored and beautified in 1834; the emblazonment of the +royal arms having been executed by the celebrated architectural artist +Pugin. The old houses are numerous, and some of them eminently +picturesque. + +Salisbury was formerly very unhealthy, on account of the low, swampy +nature of its grounds. The Sanitary Reform, dating from about thirty +years ago, had a great effect on the condition of the place. Before the +drainage the annual mortality was twenty-seven in the thousand; since +the drainage twenty in the thousand, which is below that of Boston. In +the Close, which is a little Garden of Eden, with no serpent in it that +I could hear of, the deaths were only fourteen in a thousand. Happy +little enclosure, where thieves cannot break through and steal, where +Death himself hesitates to enter, and makes a visit only now and then at +long intervals, lest the fortunate inhabitants should think they had +already reached the Celestial City! + +[Illustration: Salisbury Cathedral.] + +It must have been a pretty bitter quarrel that drove the tenants of the +airy height of Old Sarum to remove to the marshy level of the present +site of the cathedral and the town. I wish we could have given more time +to the ancient fortress and cathedral town. This is one of the most +interesting historic localities of Great Britain. We looked from +different points of view at the mounds and trenches which marked it as a +strongly fortified position. For many centuries it played an important +part in the history of England. At length, however, the jealousies of +the laity and the clergy, a squabble like that of "town and gown," but +with graver underlying causes, broke up the harmony and practically +ended the existence of the place except as a monument of the past. It +seems a pity that the headquarters of the Prince of Peace could not have +managed to maintain tranquillity within its own borders. But so it was; +and the consequence followed that Old Sarum, with all its grand +recollections, is but a collection of mounds and hollows,--as much a +tomb of its past as Birs Nimroud of that great city, Nineveh. Old Sarum +is now best remembered by its long-surviving privilege, as a borough, of +sending two members to Parliament. The farcical ceremony of electing two +representatives who had no real constituency behind them was put an end +to by the Reform Act of 1832. + +Wilton, the seat of the Earl of Pembroke, within an easy drive's +distance from Salisbury, was the first nobleman's residence I saw in my +early visit. Not a great deal of what I then saw had survived in my +memory. I recall the general effect of the stately mansion and its +grounds. A picture or two of Vandyke's had not quite faded out of my +recollection. I could not forget the armor of Anne de Montmorenci,--not +another Maid of Orleans, but Constable of France,--said to have been +taken in battle by an ancestor of the Herberts. It was one of the first +things that made me feel I was in the Old World. Miles Standish's sword +was as far back as New England collections of armor carried us at that +day. The remarkable gallery of ancient sculptures impressed me at the +time, but no one bust or statue survived as a distinct image. Even the +beautiful Palladian bridge had not pictured itself on my mental tablet +as it should have done, and I could not have taken my oath that I had +seen it. But the pretty English maidens whom we met on the day of our +visit to Wilton,--daughters or granddaughters of a famous inventor and +engineer,--still lingered as vague and pleasing visions, so lovely had +they seemed among the daisies and primroses. The primroses and daisies +were as fresh in the spring of 1886 as they were in the spring of 1833, +but I hardly dared to ask after the blooming maidens of that early +period. + +One memory predominates over all others, in walking through the halls, +or still more in wandering through the grounds, of Wilton House. Here +Sir Philip Sidney wrote his "Arcadia," and the ever youthful presence of +the man himself rather than the recollection of his writings takes +possession of us. There are three young men in history whose names +always present themselves to me in a special companionship: Pico della +Mirandola, "the Phoenix of the Age" for his contemporaries; "the +Admirable Crichton," accepting as true the accounts which have come down +to us of his wonderful accomplishments; and Sidney, the Bayard of +England, "that glorious star, that lively pattern of virtue and the +lovely joy of all the learned sort, ... born into the world to show unto +our age a sample of ancient virtue." The English paragon of excellence +was but thirty-two years old when he was slain at Zutphen, the Italian +Phoenix but thirty-one when he was carried off by a fever, and the +Scotch prodigy of gifts and attainments was only twenty-two when he was +assassinated by his worthless pupil. Sir Philip Sidney is better +remembered by the draught of water he gave the dying soldier than by all +the waters he ever drew from the fountain of the Muses, considerable as +are the merits of his prose and verse. But here, where he came to cool +his fiery spirit after the bitter insult he had received from the Earl +of Leicester; here, where he mused and wrote, and shaped his lofty plans +for a glorious future, he lives once more in our imagination, as if his +spirit haunted the English Arcadia he loved so dearly. + +The name of Herbert, which we have met with in the cathedral, and which +belongs to the Earls of Pembroke, presents itself to us once more in a +very different and very beautiful aspect. Between Salisbury and Wilton, +three miles and a half distant, is the little village of Bemerton, where +"holy George Herbert" lived and died, and where he lies buried. Many +Americans who know little else of him recall the lines borrowed from him +by Irving in the "Sketch-Book" and by Emerson in "Nature." The +"Sketch-Book" gives the lines thus:-- + + "Sweet day, so pure, so calm, so bright, + The bridal of the earth and sky." + +In other versions the fourth word is _cool_ instead of _pure_, +and _cool_ is, I believe, the correct reading. The day when we +visited Bemerton was, according to A----'s diary, "perfect." I was +struck with the calm beauty of the scene around us, the fresh greenness +of all growing things, and the stillness of the river which mirrored the +heavens above it. It must have been this reflection which the poet was +thinking of when he spoke of the bridal of the earth and sky. The river +is the Wiltshire Avon; not Shakespeare's Avon, but the southern stream +of the same name, which empties into the British Channel. + +So much of George Herbert's intellectual and moral character repeat +themselves in Emerson that if I believed in metempsychosis I should +think that the English saint had reappeared in the American philosopher. +Their features have a certain resemblance, but the type, though an +exceptional and fine one, is not so very rare. I found a portrait in the +National Gallery which was a good specimen of it; the bust of a near +friend of his, more intimate with him than almost any other person, is +often taken for that of Emerson. I see something of it in the portrait +of Sir Philip Sidney, and I doubt not that traces of a similar mental +resemblance ran through the whole group, with individual characteristics +which were in some respects quite different. I will take a single verse +of Herbert's from Emerson's "Nature,"--one of the five which he +quotes:-- + + "Nothing hath got so far + But man hath caught and kept it as his prey; + His eyes dismount the highest star: + He is in little all the sphere. + Herbs gladly cure our flesh because that they + Find their acquaintance there." + +Emerson himself fully recognizes his obligations to "the beautiful +psalmist of the seventeenth century," as he calls George Herbert. There +are many passages in his writings which sound as if they were +paraphrases from the elder poet. From him it is that Emerson gets a word +he is fond of, and of which his imitators are too fond:-- + + "Who sweeps a room as for thy laws + Makes that and the action _fine_." + +The little chapel in which Herbert officiated is perhaps half as long +again as the room in which I am writing, but it is four or five feet +narrower,--and I do not live in a palace. Here this humble servant of +God preached and prayed, and here by his faithful and loving service he +so endeared himself to all around him that he has been canonized by an +epithet no other saint of the English Church has had bestowed upon him. +His life as pictured by Izaak Walton is, to borrow one of his own lines, + + "A box where sweets compacted lie;" + +and I felt, as I left his little chapel and the parsonage which he +rebuilt as a free-will offering, as a pilgrim might feel who had just +left the holy places at Jerusalem. + +Among the places which I saw in my first visit was Longford Castle, the +seat of the Earl of Radnor. I remembered the curious triangular +building, constructed with reference to the doctrine of the Trinity, as +churches are built in the form of the cross. I remembered how the +omnipresent spire of the great cathedral, three miles away, looked down +upon the grounds about the building as if it had been their next-door +neighbor. I had not forgotten the two celebrated Claudes, Morning and +Evening. My eyes were drawn to the first of these two pictures when I +was here before; now they turned naturally to the landscape with the +setting sun. I have read my St. Ruskin with due reverence, but I have +never given up my allegiance to Claude Lorraine. But of all the fine +paintings at Longford Castle, no one so much impressed me at my recent +visit as the portrait of Erasmus by Hans Holbein. This is one of those +pictures which help to make the Old World worth a voyage across the +Atlantic. Portraits of Erasmus are not uncommon; every scholar would +know him if he met him in the other world with the look he wore on +earth. All the etchings and their copies give a characteristic +presentation of the spiritual precursor of Luther, who pricked the false +image with his rapier which the sturdy monk slashed with his broadsword. +What a face it is which Hans Holbein has handed down to us in this +wonderful portrait at Longford Castle! How dry it is with scholastic +labor, how keen with shrewd scepticism, how worldly-wise, how conscious +of its owner's wide-awake sagacity! Erasmus and Rabelais,--Nature used +up all her arrows for their quivers, and had to wait a hundred years and +more before she could find shafts enough for the outfit of Voltaire, +leaner and keener than Erasmus, and almost as free in his language as +the audacious creator of Gargantua and Pantagruel. + +I have not generally given descriptions of the curious objects which I +saw in the great houses and museums which I visited. There is, however, +a work of art at Longford Castle so remarkable that I must speak of it. +I was so much struck by the enormous amount of skilful ingenuity and +exquisite workmanship bestowed upon it that I looked up its history, +which I found in the "Beauties of England and Wales." This is what is +there said of the wonderful steel chair: "It was made by Thomas Rukers +at the city of Augsburgh, in the year 1575, and consists of more than +130 compartments, all occupied by groups of figures representing a +succession of events in the annals of the Roman Empire, from the landing +of Æneas to the reign of Rodolphus the Second." It looks as if a life +had gone into the making of it, as a pair or two of eyes go to the +working of the bridal veil of an empress. + +Fifty years ago and more, when I was at Longford Castle with my two +companions, who are no more with us, we found there a pleasant, motherly +old housekeeper, or attendant of some kind, who gave us a draught of +home-made ale and left a cheerful remembrance with us, as, I need hardly +say, we did with her, in a materialized expression of our good-will. It +always rubbed very hard on my feelings to offer money to any persons who +had served me well, as if they were doing it for their own pleasure. It +may have been the granddaughter of the kindly old matron of the year +1833 who showed us round, and possibly, if I had sunk a shaft of +inquiry, I might have struck a well of sentiment. But + + "Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee," + +carried into practical life, is certain in its financial result to the +subject of the emotional impulse, but is less sure to call forth a +tender feeling in the recipient. One will hardly find it worth while to +go through the world weeping over his old recollections, and paying gold +instead of silver and silver instead of copper to astonished boatmen and +bewildered chambermaids. + +On Sunday, the 18th of July, we attended morning service at the +cathedral. The congregation was not proportioned to the size of the +great edifice. These vast places of worship were built for ages when +faith was the rule and questioning the exception. I will not say that +faith has grown cold, but it has cooled from white heat to cherry red or +a still less flaming color. As to church attendance, I have heard the +saying attributed to a great statesman, that "once a day is Orthodox, +but twice a day is Puritan." No doubt many of the same class of people +that used to fill the churches stay at home and read about evolution or +telepathy, or whatever new gospel they may have got hold of. Still the +English seem to me a religious people; they have leisure enough to say +grace and give thanks before and after meals, and their institutions +tend to keep alive the feelings of reverence which cannot be said to be +distinctive of our own people. + +In coming out of the cathedral, on the Sunday I just mentioned, a +gentleman addressed me as a fellow-countryman. There is something,--I +will not stop now to try and define it,--but there is something by which +we recognize an American among the English before he speaks and betrays +his origin. Our new friend proved to be the president of one of our +American colleges; an intelligent and well-instructed gentleman, of +course. By the invitation of our host he came in to visit us in the +evening, and made himself very welcome by his agreeable conversation. + +I took great delight in wandering about the old town of Salisbury. There +are no such surprises in our oldest places as one finds in Chester, or +Tewkesbury, or Stratford, or Salisbury, and I have no doubt in scores or +hundreds of similar places which I have never visited. The best +substitute for such rambles as one can take through these mouldy +boroughs (or burrows) is to be found in such towns as Salem, +Newburyport, Portsmouth. Without imagination, Shakespeare's birthplace +is but a queer old house, and Anne Hathaway's home a tumble-down +cottage. With it, one can see the witches of Salem Village sailing out +of those little square windows, which look as if they were made on +purpose for them, or stroll down to Derby's wharf and gaze at +"Cleopatra's Barge," precursor of the yachts of the Astors and Goulds +and Vanderbilts, as she comes swimming into the harbor in all her gilded +glory. But it must make a difference what the imagination has to work +upon, and I do not at all wonder that Mr. Ruskin would not wish to live +in a land where there are no old ruins of castles and monasteries. Man +will not live on bread only; he wants a great deal more, if he can get +it,--frosted cake as well as corn-bread; and the New World keeps the +imagination on plain and scanty diet, compared to the rich traditional +and historic food which furnishes the banquets of the Old World. + +What memories that week in Salisbury and the excursions from it have +left in my mind's picture gallery! The spire of the great cathedral had +been with me as a frequent presence during the last fifty years of my +life, and this second visit has deepened every line of the impression, +as Old Mortality refreshed the inscriptions on the tombstones of the +Covenanters. I find that all these pictures which I have brought home +with me to look at, with + + "that inward eye + Which is the bliss of solitude," + +are becoming clearer and brighter as the excitement of overcrowded days +and weeks gradually calms down. I can _be_ in those places where I +passed days and nights, and became habituated to the sight of the +cathedral, or of the Church of the Holy Trinity, at morning, at noon, at +evening, whenever I turned my eyes in its direction. I often close my +eyelids, and startle my household by saying, "Now I am in Salisbury," or +"Now I am in Stratford." It is a blessed thing to be able, in the +twilight of years, to illuminate the soul with such visions. The +Charles, which flows beneath my windows, which I look upon between the +words of the sentence I am now writing, only turning my head as I sit at +my table,--the Charles is hardly more real to me than Shakespeare's +Avon, since I floated on its still waters, or strayed along its banks +and saw the cows reflected in the smooth expanse, their legs upward, as +if they were walking the skies as the flies walk the ceiling. Salisbury +Cathedral stands as substantial in my thought as our own King's Chapel, +since I slumbered by its side, and arose in the morning to find it still +there, and not one of those unsubstantial fabrics built by the architect +of dreams. + +On Thursday, the 22d of July, we left Salisbury for Brighton, where we +were to be guests at Arnold House, the residence of our kind host. Here +we passed another delightful week, with everything around us to +contribute to our quiet comfort and happiness. The most thoughtful of +entertainers, a house filled with choice works of art, fine paintings, +and wonderful pottery, pleasant walks and drives, a visitor now and +then, Mr. and Mrs. Goldwin Smith among the number, rest and peace in a +magnificent city built for enjoyment,--what more could we have asked to +make our visit memorable? Many watering-places look forlorn and desolate +in the intervals of "the season." This was not the time of Brighton's +influx of visitors, but the city was far from dull. The houses are very +large, and have the grand air, as if meant for princes; the shops are +well supplied; the salt breeze comes in fresh and wholesome, and the +noble esplanade is lively with promenaders and Bath chairs, some of them +occupied by people evidently ill or presumably lame, some, I suspect, +employed by healthy invalids who are too lazy to walk. I took one +myself, drawn by an old man, to see how I liked it, and found it very +convenient, but I was tempted to ask him to change places and let me +drag him. + +With the aid of the guide-book I could describe the wonders of the +pavilion and the various changes which have come over the great +watering-place. The grand walks, the two piers, the aquarium, and all +the great sights which are shown to strangers deserve full attention +from the tourist who writes for other travellers, but none of these +things seem to me so interesting as what we saw and heard in a little +hamlet which has never, so far as I know, been vulgarized by sightseers. +We drove in an open carriage,--Mr. and Mrs. Willett, A----, and +myself,--into the country, which soon became bare, sparsely settled, a +long succession of rounded hills and hollows. These are the South Downs, +from which comes the famous mutton known all over England, not unknown +at the table of our Saturday Club and other well-spread boards. After a +drive of ten miles or more we arrived at a little "settlement," as we +Americans would call it, and drove up to the door of a modest parsonage, +where dwells the shepherd of the South Down flock of Christian +worshippers. I hope that the good clergyman, if he ever happens to see +what I am writing, will pardon me for making mention of his hidden +retreat, which he himself speaks of as "one of the remoter nooks of the +old country." Nothing I saw in England brought to my mind Goldsmith's +picture of "the man to all the country dear," and his surroundings, like +this visit. The church dates, if I remember right, from the thirteenth +century. Some of its stones show marks, as it is thought, of having +belonged to a Saxon edifice. The massive leaden font is of a very great +antiquity. In the wall of the church is a narrow opening, at which the +priest is supposed to have sat and listened to the confession of the +sinner on the outside of the building. The dead lie all around the +church, under stones bearing the dates of several centuries. One +epitaph, which the unlettered Muse must have dictated, is worth +recording. After giving the chief slumberer's name the epitaph adds,-- + + "Here lies on either side, the remains of each of his former wives." + +Those of a third have found a resting-place close by, behind him. + +It seemed to me that Mr. Bunner's young man in search of Arcady might +look for it here with as good a chance of being satisfied as anywhere I +can think of. But I suppose that men and women and especially boys, +would prove to be a good deal like the rest of the world, if one lived +here long enough to learn all about them. One thing I can safely +say,--an English man or boy never goes anywhere without his fists. I saw +a boy of ten or twelve years, whose pleasant face attracted my +attention. I said to the rector, "That is a fine-looking little fellow, +and I should think an intelligent and amiable kind of boy." "Yes," he +said, "yes; he can strike from the shoulder pretty well, too. I had to +stop him the other day, indulging in that exercise." Well, I said to +myself, we have not yet reached the heaven on earth which I was fancying +might be embosomed in this peaceful-looking hollow. Youthful angels can +hardly be in the habit of striking from the shoulder. But the well-known +phrase, belonging to the pugilist rather than to the priest, brought me +back from the ideal world into which my imagination had wandered. + +Our week at Brighton was passed in a very quiet but most enjoyable way. +It could not be otherwise with such a host and hostess, always arranging +everything with reference to our well-being and in accordance with our +wishes. I became very fond of the esplanade, such a public walk as I +never saw anything to compare with. In these tranquil days, and long, +honest nights of sleep, the fatigues of what we had been through were +forgotten, the scales showed that we were becoming less ethereal every +day, and we were ready for another move. + +We bade good-by to our hosts with the most grateful and the warmest +feeling towards them, after a month of delightful companionship and the +experience of a hospitality almost too generous to accept, but which +they were pleased to look upon as if we were doing them a favor. + +On the 29th of July we found ourselves once more in London. + + + + +VI. + + +We found our old quarters all ready and awaiting us. Mrs. Mackellar's +motherly smile, Sam's civil bow, and the rosy cheeks of many-buttoned +Robert made us feel at home as soon as we crossed the threshold. + +The dissolution of Parliament had brought "the season" abruptly to an +end. London was empty. There were three or four millions of people in +it, but the great houses were for the most part left without occupants +except their liveried guardians. We kept as quiet as possible, to avoid +all engagements. For now we were in London for London itself, to do +shopping, to see sights, to be our own master and mistress, and to live +as independent a life as we possibly could. + +The first thing we did on the day of our arrival was to take a hansom +and drive over to Chelsea, to look at the place where Carlyle passed the +larger part of his life. The whole region about him must have been +greatly changed during his residence there, for the Thames Embankment +was constructed long after he removed to Chelsea. We had some little +difficulty in finding the place we were in search of. Cheyne (pronounced +"Chainie") Walk is a somewhat extended range of buildings. Cheyne Row is +a passage which reminded me a little of my old habitat, Montgomery +Place, now Bosworth Street. Presently our attention was drawn to a +marble medallion portrait on the corner building of an ordinary-looking +row of houses. This was the head of Carlyle, and an inscription informed +us that he lived for forty-seven years in the house No. 24 of this row +of buildings. Since Carlyle's home life has been made public, he has +appeared to us in a different aspect from the ideal one which he had +before occupied. He did not show to as much advantage under the +Boswellizing process as the dogmatist of the last century, dear old Dr. +Johnson. But he remains not the less one of the really interesting men +of his generation, a man about whom we wish to know all that we have a +right to know. + +The sight of an old nest over which two or three winters have passed is +a rather saddening one. The dingy three-story brick house in which +Carlyle lived, one in a block of similar houses, was far from +attractive. It was untenanted, neglected; its windows were unwashed, a +pane of glass was broken; its threshold appeared untrodden, its whole +aspect forlorn and desolate. Yet there it stood before me, all covered +with its associations as an ivy-clad tower with its foliage. I wanted to +see its interior, but it looked as if it did not expect a tenant and +would not welcome a visitor. Was there nothing but this forbidding +house-front to make the place alive with some breathing memory? I saw +crossing the street a middle-aged woman,--a decent body, who looked as +if she might have come from the lower level of some not opulent but +respectable household. She might have some recollection of an old man +who was once her neighbor. I asked her if she remembered Mr. Carlyle. +Indeed she did, she told us. She used to see him often, in front of his +house, putting bits of bread on the railing for the birds. He did not +like to see anything wasted, she said. The merest scrap of information, +but genuine and pleasing; an instantaneous photograph only, but it makes +a pretty vignette in the volume of my reminiscences. There are many +considerable men in every generation of mankind, but not a great number +who are personally interesting,--not a great many of whom we feel that +we cannot know too much; whose foibles, even, we care to know about; +whose shortcomings we try to excuse; who are not models, but whose +special traits make them attractive. Carlyle is one of these few, and no +revelations can prevent his interesting us. He was not quite finished in +his parental existence. The bricklayer's mortar of his father's calling +stuck to his fingers through life, but only as the soil he turned with +his ploughshare clung to the fingers of Burns. We do not wish either to +have been other than what he was. Their breeding brings them to the +average level, carries them more nearly to the heart, makes them a +simpler expression of our common humanity. As we rolled in the cars by +Ecclefechan, I strained my eyes to take in every point of the landscape, +every cottage, every spire, if by any chance I could find one in that +lonely region. There was not a bridge nor a bit of masonry of any kind +that I did not eagerly scrutinize, to see if it were solid and honest +enough to have been built by Carlyle's father. Solitary enough the +country looked. I admired Mr. Emerson's devotion in seeking his friend +in his bare home among what he describes as the "desolate heathery +hills" about Craigenputtock, which were, I suppose, much like the region +through which we were passing. + +It is one of the regrets of my life that I never saw or heard Carlyle. +Nature, who seems to be fond of trios, has given us three dogmatists, +all of whom greatly interested their own generation, and whose +personality, especially in the case of the first and the last of the +trio, still interests us,--Johnson, Coleridge, and Carlyle. Each was an +oracle in his way, but unfortunately oracles are fallible to their +descendants. The author of "Taxation no Tyranny" had wholesale opinions, +and pretty harsh ones, about us Americans, and did not soften them in +expression: "Sir, they are a race of convicts, and ought to be thankful +for anything we allow them short of hanging." We smile complacently when +we read this outburst, which Mr. Croker calls in question, but which +agrees with his saying in the presence of Miss Seward, "I am willing to +love all mankind _except an American_." + +A generation or two later comes along Coleridge, with his circle of +reverential listeners. He says of Johnson that his fame rests +principally upon Boswell, and that "his _bow-wow_ manner must have +had a good deal to do with the effect produced." As to Coleridge +himself, his contemporaries hardly know how to set bounds to their +exaltation of his genius. Dibdin comes pretty near going into rhetorical +hysterics in reporting a conversation of Coleridge's to which he +listened: "The auditors seemed to be wrapt in wonder and delight, as one +observation more profound, or clothed in more forcible language, than +another fell from his tongue.... As I retired homeward I thought a +SECOND JOHNSON had visited the earth to make wise the sons of men." And +De Quincey speaks of him as "the largest and most spacious intellect, +the subtlest and most comprehensive, in my judgment, that has yet +existed amongst men." One is sometimes tempted to wish that the +superlative could be abolished, or its use allowed only to old experts. +What are men to do when they get to heaven, after having exhausted their +vocabulary of admiration on earth? + +Now let us come down to Carlyle, and see what he says of Coleridge. We +need not take those conversational utterances which called down the +wrath of Mr. Swinburne, and found expression in an epigram which +violates all the proprieties of literary language. Look at the +full-length portrait in the Life of Sterling. Each oracle denies his +predecessor, each magician breaks the wand of the one who went before +him. There were Americans enough ready to swear by Carlyle until he +broke his staff in meddling with our anti-slavery conflict, and buried +it so many fathoms deep that it could never be fished out again. It is +rather singular that Johnson and Carlyle should each of them have +shipwrecked his sagacity and shown a terrible leak in his moral +sensibilities on coming in contact with American rocks and currents, +with which neither had any special occasion to concern himself, and +which both had a great deal better have steered clear of. + +But here I stand once more before the home of the long-suffering, +much-laboring, loud-complaining Heraclitus of his time, whose very smile +had a grimness in it more ominous than his scowl. Poor man! Dyspeptic on +a diet of oatmeal porridge; kept wide awake by crowing cocks; drummed +out of his wits by long-continued piano-pounding; sharp of speech, I +fear, to his high-strung wife, who gave him back as good as she got! I +hope I am mistaken about their everyday relations, but again I say, poor +man!--for all his complaining must have meant real discomfort, which a +man of genius feels not less, certainly, than a common mortal. + +I made a second visit to the place where he lived, but I saw nothing +more than at the first. I wanted to cross the threshold over which he +walked so often, to see the noise-proof room in which he used to write, +to look at the chimney-place down which the soot came, to sit where he +used to sit and smoke his pipe, and to conjure up his wraith to look in +once more upon his old deserted dwelling. That vision was denied me. + +After visiting Chelsea we drove round through Regent's Park. I suppose +that if we use the superlative in speaking of Hyde Park, Regent's Park +will be the comparative, and Battersea Park the positive, ranking them +in the descending grades of their hierarchy. But this is my conjecture +only, and the social geography of London is a subject which only one who +has become familiarly acquainted with the place should speak of with any +confidence. A stranger coming to our city might think it made little +difference whether his travelling Boston acquaintance lived in Alpha +Avenue or in Omega Square, but he would have to learn that it is farther +from one of these places to the other, a great deal farther, than it is +from Beacon Street, Boston, to Fifth Avenue, New York. + +An American finds it a little galling to be told that he must not drive +in his _numbered_ hansom or four-wheeler except in certain portions +of Hyde Park. If he is rich enough to keep his own carriage, or if he +will pay the extra price of a vehicle not vulgarized by being on the +numbered list, he may drive anywhere that his Grace or his Lordship +does, and perhaps have a mean sense of satisfaction at finding himself +in the charmed circle of exclusive "gigmanity." It is a pleasure to meet +none but well-dressed and well-mannered people, in well-appointed +equipages. In the high road of our own country, one is liable to fall in +with people and conveyances that it is far from a pleasure to meet. I +was once driving in an open carriage, with members of my family, towards +my own house in the country town where I was then living. A cart drawn +by oxen was in the road in front of us. Whenever we tried to pass, the +men in it turned obliquely across the road and prevented us, and this +was repeated again and again. I could have wished I had been driving in +Hyde Park, where clowns and boors, with their carts and oxen, do not +find admittance. Exclusiveness has its conveniences. + +The next day, as I was strolling through Burlington Arcade, I saw a +figure just before me which I recognized as that of my townsman, Mr. +Abbott Lawrence. He was accompanied by his son, who had just returned +from a trip round the planet. There are three grades of recognition, +entirely distinct from each other: the meeting of two persons of +different countries who speak the same language,--an American and an +Englishman, for instance; the meeting of two Americans from different +cities, as of a Bostonian and a New Yorker or a Chicagonian; and the +meeting of two from the same city, as of two Bostonians. + +The difference of these recognitions may be illustrated by supposing +certain travelling philosophical instruments, endowed with intelligence +and the power of speech, to come together in their wanderings,--let us +say in a restaurant of the Palais Royal. "Very hot," says the talking +Fahrenheit (Thermometer) from Boston, and calls for an ice, which he +plunges his bulb into and cools down. In comes an intelligent and +socially disposed English Barometer. The two travellers greet each +other, not exactly as old acquaintances, but each has heard very +frequently about the other, and their relatives have been often +associated. "We have a good deal in common," says the Barometer. "Of the +same blood, as we may say; quicksilver is thicker than water." "Yes," +says the little Fahrenheit, "and we are both of the same mercurial +temperament." While their columns are dancing up and down with laughter +at this somewhat tepid and low-pressure pleasantry, there come in a New +York Réaumur and a Centigrade from Chicago. The Fahrenheit, which has +got warmed up to _temperate_, rises to _summer heat_, and even +a little above it. They enjoy each other's company mightily. To be sure, +their scales differ, but have they not the same freezing and the same +boiling point? To be sure, each thinks his own scale is the true +standard, and at home they might get into a contest about the matter, +but here in a strange land they do not think of disputing. Now, while +they are talking about America and their own local atmosphere and +temperature, there comes in a second Boston Fahrenheit. The two of the +same name look at each other for a moment, and rush together so eagerly +that their bulbs are endangered. How well they understand each other! +Thirty-two degrees marks the freezing point. Two hundred and twelve +marks the boiling point. They have the same scale, the same fixed +points, the same record: no wonder they prefer each other's company! + +I hope that my reader has followed my illustration, and finished it off +for himself. Let me give a few practical examples. An American and an +Englishman meet in a foreign land. The Englishman has occasion to +mention his weight, which he finds has gained in the course of his +travels. "How much is it now?" asks the American. "Fourteen stone. How +much do you weigh?" "Within four pounds of two hundred." Neither of them +takes at once any clear idea of what the other weighs. The American has +never thought of his own, or his friends', or anybody's weight in +_stones_ of fourteen pounds. The Englishman has never thought of +any one's weight in _pounds_. They can calculate very easily with a +slip of paper and a pencil, but not the less is their language but half +intelligible as they speak and listen. The same thing is in a measure +true of other matters they talk about. "It is about as large a space as +the Common," says the Boston man. "It is as large as St. James's Park," +says the Londoner. "As high as the State House," says the Bostonian, or +"as tall as Bunker Hill Monument," or "about as big as the Frog Pond," +where the Londoner would take St. Paul's, the Nelson Column, the +Serpentine, as his standard of comparison. The difference of scale does +not stop here; it runs through a great part of the objects of thought +and conversation. An average American and an average Englishman are +talking together, and one of them speaks of the beauty of a field of +corn. They are thinking of two entirely different objects: one of a +billowy level of soft waving wheat, or rye, or barley; the other of a +rustling forest of tall, jointed stalks, tossing their plumes and +showing their silken epaulettes, as if every stem in the ordered ranks +were a soldier in full regimentals. An Englishman planted for the first +time in the middle of a well-grown field of Indian corn would feel as +much lost as the babes in the wood. Conversation between two Londoners, +two New Yorkers, two Bostonians, requires no foot-notes, which is a +great advantage in their intercourse. + +To return from my digression and my illustration. I did not do a great +deal of shopping myself while in London, being contented to have it done +for me. But in the way of looking in at shop windows I did a very large +business. Certain windows attracted me by a variety in unity which +surpassed anything I have been accustomed to. Thus one window showed +every conceivable convenience that could be shaped in ivory, and nothing +else. One shop had such a display of magnificent dressing-cases that I +should have thought a whole royal family was setting out on its travels. +I see the cost of one of them is two hundred and seventy guineas. +Thirteen hundred and fifty dollars seems a good deal to pay for a +dressing-case. + +On the other hand, some of the first-class tradesmen and workmen make no +show whatever. The tailor to whom I had credentials, and who proved +highly satisfactory to me, as he had proved to some of my countrymen and +to Englishmen of high estate, had only one small sign, which was placed +in one of his windows, and received his customers in a small room that +would have made a closet for one of our stylish merchant tailors. The +bootmaker to whom I went on good recommendation had hardly anything +about his premises to remind one of his calling. He came into his +studio, took my measure very carefully, and made me a pair of what we +call Congress boots, which fitted well when once on my feet, but which +it cost more trouble to get into and to get out of than I could express +my feelings about without dangerously enlarging my limited vocabulary. + +Bond Street, Old and New, offered the most inviting windows, and I +indulged almost to profligacy in the prolonged inspection of their +contents. Stretching my walk along New Bond Street till I came to a +great intersecting thoroughfare, I found myself in Oxford Street. Here +the character of the shop windows changed at once. Utility and +convenience took the place of show and splendor. Here I found various +articles of use in a household, some of which were new to me. It is very +likely that I could have found most of them in our own Boston Cornhill, +but one often overlooks things at home which at once arrest his +attention when he sees them in a strange place. I saw great numbers of +illuminating contrivances, some of which pleased me by their arrangement +of reflectors. + +Bryant and May's safety matches seemed to be used everywhere. I procured +some in Boston with these names on the box, but the label said they were +made in Sweden, and they diffused vapors that were enough to produce +asphyxia. I greatly admired some of Dr. Dresser's water-cans and other +contrivances, modelled more or less after the antique, but I found an +abundant assortment of them here in Boston, and I have one I obtained +here more original in design and more serviceable in daily use than any +I saw in London. I should have regarded Wolverhampton, as we glided +through it, with more interest, if I had known at that time that the +inventive Dr. Dresser had his headquarters in that busy-looking town. + +One thing, at least, I learned from my London experience: better a small +city where one knows all it has to offer, than a great city where one +has no disinterested friend to direct him to the right places to find +what he wants. But of course there are some grand magazines which are +known all the world over, and which no one should leave London without +entering as a looker-on, if not as a purchaser. + +There was one place I determined to visit, and one man I meant to see, +before returning. The place was a certain book-store or book-shop, and +the person was its proprietor, Mr. Bernard Quaritch. I was getting very +much pressed for time, and I allowed ten minutes only for my visit. I +never had any dealings with Mr. Quaritch, but one of my near relatives +had, and I had often received his catalogues, the scale of prices in +which had given me an impression almost of sublimity. I found Mr. +Bernard Quaritch at No. 15 Piccadilly, and introduced myself, not as one +whose name he must know, but rather as a stranger, of whom he might have +heard through my relative. The extensive literature of catalogues is +probably little known to most of my readers. I do not pretend to claim a +thorough acquaintance with it, but I know the luxury of reading good +catalogues, and such are those of Mr. Quaritch. I should like to deal +with him; for if he wants a handsome price for what he sells, he knows +its value, and does not offer the refuse of old libraries, but, on the +other hand, all that is most precious in them is pretty sure to pass +through his hands, sooner or later. + +"Now, Mr. Quaritch," I said, after introducing myself, "I have ten +minutes to pass with you. You must not open a book; if you do I am lost, +for I shall have to look at every illuminated capital, from the first +leaf to the colophon." Mr. Quaritch did not open a single book, but let +me look round his establishment, and answered my questions very +courteously. It so happened that while I was there a gentleman came in +whom I had previously met,--my namesake, Mr. Holmes, the Queen's +librarian at Windsor Castle. My ten minutes passed very rapidly in +conversation with these two experts in books, the bibliopole and the +bibliothecary. No place that I visited made me feel more thoroughly that +I was in London, the great central mart of all that is most precious in +the world. + +_Leave at home all your guineas, ye who enter here_, would be a +good motto to put over his door, unless you have them in plenty and can +spare them, in which case _Take all your guineas with you_ would be +a better one. For you can here get their equivalent, and more than their +equivalent, in the choicest products of the press and the finest work of +the illuminator, the illustrator, and the binder. You will be sorely +tempted. But do not be surprised when you ask the price of the volume +you may happen to fancy. You are not dealing with a _bouquiniste_ +of the Quais, in Paris. You are not foraging in an old book-shop of New +York or Boston. Do not suppose that I undervalue these dealers in old and +rare volumes. Many a much-prized rarity have I obtained from Drake and +Burnham and others of my townsmen, and from Denham in New York; and +in my student years many a choice volume, sometimes even an Aldus or +an Elzevir, have I found among the trumpery spread out on the parapets +of the quays. But there is a difference between going out on the Fourth +of July with a militia musket to shoot any catbird or "chipmunk" that +turns up in a piece of woods within a few miles of our own cities, and +shooting partridges in a nobleman's preserves on the First of September. +I confess to having felt a certain awe on entering the precincts made +sacred by their precious contents. The lord and master of so many +_Editiones Principes_, the guardian of this great nursery full of +_incunabula_, did not seem to me like a simple tradesman. I felt that +I was in the presence of the literary purveyor of royal and imperial +libraries, the man before whom millionaires tremble as they calculate, +and billionaires pause and consider. I have recently received two of Mr. +Quaritch's catalogues, from which I will give my reader an extract or two, +to show him what kind of articles this prince of bibliopoles deals in. + +Perhaps you would like one of those romances which turned the head of +Don Quixote. Here is a volume which will be sure to please you. It is on +one of his lesser lists, confined principally to Spanish and Portuguese +works:-- + +"Amadis de Gaula ... folio, gothic letter, FIRST EDITION, unique ... red +morocco super extra, _doublé_ with olive morocco, richly gilt, +tooled to an elegant Grolier design, gilt edges ... in a neat case." + +A pretty present for a scholarly friend. A nice old book to carry home +for one's own library. Two hundred pounds--one thousand dollars--will +make you the happy owner of this volume. + +But if you would have also on your shelves the first edition of the +"Cronica del famoso cabaluero cid Ruy Diaz Campadero," not "richly +gilt," not even bound in leather, but in "cloth boards," you will have +to pay two hundred and ten pounds to become its proprietor. After this +you will not be frightened by the thought of paying three hundred +dollars for a little quarto giving an account of the Virginia +Adventurers. You will not shrink from the idea of giving something more +than a hundred guineas for a series of Hogarth's plates. But when it +comes to Number 1001 in the May catalogue, and you see that if you would +possess a first folio Shakespeare, "untouched by the hand of any modern +renovator," you must be prepared to pay seven hundred and eighty-five +pounds, almost four thousand dollars, for the volume, it would not be +surprising if you changed color and your knees shook under you. No doubt +some brave man will be found to carry off that prize, in spite of the +golden battery which defends it, perhaps to Cincinnati, or Chicago, or +San Francisco. But do not be frightened. These Alpine heights of +extravagance climb up from the humble valley where shillings and +sixpences are all that are required to make you a purchaser. + +One beauty of the Old World shops is that if a visitor comes back to the +place where he left them fifty years before, he finds them, or has a +great chance of finding them, just where they stood at his former visit. +In driving down to the old city, to the place of business of the +Barings, I found many streets little changed. Temple Bar was gone, and +the much-abused griffin stood in its place. There was a shop close to +Temple Bar, where, in 1834, I had bought some brushes. I had no +difficulty in finding Prout's, and I could not do less than go in and +buy some more brushes. I did not ask the young man who served me how the +old shopkeeper who attended to my wants on the earlier occasion was at +this time. But I thought what a different color the locks these brushes +smooth show from those that knew their predecessors in the earlier +decade! + +I ought to have made a second visit to the Tower, so tenderly spoken of +by Artemus Ward as "a sweet boon," so vividly remembered by me as the +scene of a personal encounter with one of the animals then kept in the +Tower menagerie. But the project added a stone to the floor of the +underground thoroughfare which is paved with good intentions. + +St. Paul's I must and did visit. The most striking addition since I was +there is the massive monument to the Duke of Wellington. The great +temple looked rather bare and unsympathetic. Poor Dr. Johnson, sitting +in semi-nude exposure, looked to me as unhappy as our own half-naked +Washington at the national capital. The Judas of Matthew Arnold's poem +would have cast his cloak over those marble shoulders, if he had found +himself in St. Paul's, and have earned another respite. We brought away +little, I fear, except the grand effect of the dome as we looked up at +it. It gives us a greater idea of height than the sky itself, which we +have become used to looking upon. + +A second visit to the National Gallery was made in company with A----. +It was the repetition of an attempt at a draught from the Cup of +Tantalus. I was glad of a sight of the Botticellis, of which I had heard +so much, and others of the more recently acquired paintings of the great +masters; of a sweeping glance at the Turners; of a look at the +well-remembered Hogarths and the memorable portraits by Sir Joshua. I +carried away a confused mass of impressions, much as the soldiers that +sack a city go off with all the precious things they can snatch up, +huddled into clothes-bags and pillow-cases. I am reminded, too, of Mr. +Galton's composite portraits; a thousand glimpses, as one passes through +the long halls lined with paintings, all blending in one not unpleasing +general effect, out of which emerges from time to time some single +distinct image. + +In the same way we passed through the exhibition of paintings at the +Royal Academy. I noticed that A---- paid special attention to the +portraits of young ladies by John Sargent and by Collier, while I was +more particularly struck with the startling portrait of an ancient +personage in a full suit of wrinkles, such as Rembrandt used to bring +out with wonderful effect. Hunting in couples is curious and +instructive; the scent for this or that kind of game is sure to be very +different in the two individuals. + +I made but two brief visits to the British Museum, and I can easily +instruct my reader so that he will have no difficulty, if he will follow +my teaching, in learning how not to see it. When he has a spare hour at +his disposal, let him drop in at the Museum, and wander among its books +and its various collections. He will know as much about it as the fly +that buzzes in at one window and out at another. If I were asked whether +I brought away anything from my two visits, I should say, Certainly I +did. The fly sees some things, not very intelligently, but he cannot +help seeing them. The great round reading-room, with its silent +students, impressed me very much. I looked at once for the Elgin +Marbles, but casts and photographs and engravings had made me familiar +with their chief features. I thought I knew something of the sculptures +brought from Nineveh, but I was astonished, almost awe-struck, at the +sight of those mighty images which mingled with the visions of the +Hebrew prophets. I did not marvel more at the skill and labor expended +upon them by the Assyrian artists than I did at the enterprise and +audacity which had brought them safely from the mounds under which they +were buried to the light of day and the heart of a great modern city. I +never thought that I should live to see the Birs Nimroud laid open, and +the tablets in which the history of Nebuchadnezzar was recorded spread +before me. The Empire of the Spade in the world of history was founded +at Nineveh by Layard, a great province added to it by Schliemann, and +its boundary extended by numerous explorers, some of whom are diligently +at work at the present day. I feel very grateful that many of its +revelations have been made since I have been a tenant of the travelling +residence which holds so many secrets in its recesses. + +There is one lesson to be got from a visit of an hour or two to the +British Museum,--namely, the fathomless abyss of our own ignorance. One +is almost ashamed of his little paltry heartbeats in the presence of the +rushing and roaring torrent of Niagara. So if he has published a little +book or two, collected a few fossils, or coins, or vases, he is crushed +by the vastness of the treasures in the library and the collections of +this universe of knowledge. + +I have shown how not to see the British museum; I will tell how to see +it. + +Take lodgings next door to it,--in a garret, if you cannot afford +anything better,--and pass all your days at the Museum during the whole +period of your natural life. At threescore and ten you will have some +faint conception of the contents, significance, and value of this great +British institution, which is as nearly as any one spot the _noeud +vital_ of human civilization, a stab at which by the dagger of +anarchy would fitly begin the reign of chaos. + +On the 3d of August, a gentleman, Mr. Wedmore, who had promised to be my +guide to certain interesting localities, called for me, and we took a +hansom for the old city. The first place we visited was the Temple, a +collection of buildings with intricate passages between them, some of +the edifices reminding me of our college dormitories. One, however, was +a most extraordinary exception,--the wonderful Temple church, or rather +the ancient part of it which is left, the round temple. We had some +trouble to get into it, but at last succeeded in finding a slip of a +girl, the daughter of the janitor, who unlocked the door for us. It +affected my imagination strangely to see this girl of a dozen years old, +or thereabouts, moving round among the monuments which had kept their +place there for some six or seven hundred years; for the church was +built in the year 1185, and the most recent of the crusaders' monuments +is said to date as far back as 1241. Their effigies have lain in this +vast city, and passed unharmed through all its convulsions. The Great +Fire must have crackled very loud in their stony ears, and they must +have shaken day and night, as the bodies of the victims of the Plague +were rattled over the pavements. + +Near the Temple church, in a green spot among the buildings, a plain +stone laid flat on the turf bears these words: "Here lies Oliver +Goldsmith." I believe doubt has been thrown upon the statement that +Goldsmith was buried in that place, but, as some poet ought to have +written, + + Where doubt is disenchantment + 'Tis wisdom to believe. + +We do not "drop a tear" so often as our Della Cruscan predecessors, but +the memory of the author of the "Vicar of Wakefield" stirred my feelings +more than a whole army of crusaders would have done. A pretty rough set +of filibusters they were, no doubt. + +The whole group to which Goldsmith belonged came up before me, and as +the centre of that group the great Dr. Johnson; not the Johnson of the +"Rambler," or of "The Vanity of Human Wishes," or even of "Rasselas," +but Boswell's Johnson, dear to all of us, the "Grand Old Man" of his +time, whose foibles we care more for than for most great men's virtues. +Fleet Street, which he loved so warmly, was close by. Bolt Court, +entered from it, where he lived for many of his last years, and where he +died, was the next place to visit. I found Fleet Street a good deal like +Washington Street as I remember it in former years. When I came to the +place pointed out as Bolt Court, I could hardly believe my eyes that so +celebrated a place of residence should be entered by so humble a +passageway. I was very sorry to find that No. 3, where he lived, was +demolished, and a new building erected in its place. In one of the other +houses in this court he is said to have labored on his dictionary. Near +by was a building of mean aspect, in which Goldsmith is said to have at +one time resided. But my kind conductor did not profess to be well +acquainted with the local antiquities of this quarter of London. + +If I had a long future before me, I should like above all things to +study London with a dark lantern, so to speak, myself in deepest shadow +and all I wanted to see in clearest light. Then I should want time, +time, time. For it is a sad fact that sight-seeing as commonly done is +one of the most wearying things in the world, and takes the life out of +any but the sturdiest or the most elastic natures more efficiently than +would a reasonable amount of daily exercise on a treadmill. In my +younger days I used to find that a visit to the gallery of the Louvre +was followed by more fatigue and exhaustion than the same amount of time +spent in walking the wards of a hospital. + +Another grand sight there was, not to be overlooked, namely, the +Colonial Exhibition. The popularity of this immense show was very great, +and we found ourselves, A---- and I, in the midst of a vast throng, made +up of respectable and comfortable looking people. It was not strange +that the multitude flocked to this exhibition. There was a jungle, with +its (stuffed) monsters,--tigers, serpents, elephants; there were +carvings which may well have cost a life apiece, and stuffs which none +but an empress or a millionairess would dare to look at. All the arts of +the East were there in their perfection, and some of the artificers were +at their work. We had to content ourselves with a mere look at all these +wonders. It was a pity; instead of going to these fine shows tired, +sleepy, wanting repose more than anything else, we should have come to +them fresh, in good condition, and had many days at our disposal. I +learned more in a visit to the Japanese exhibition in Boston than I +should have learned in half a dozen half-awake strolls through this +multitudinous and most imposing collection of all + + "The gorgeous East with richest hand + Showers on her kings," + +and all the masterpieces of its wonder-working artisans. + +One of the last visits we paid before leaving London for a week in Paris +was to the South Kensington Museum. Think of the mockery of giving one +hour to such a collection of works of art and wonders of all kinds! Why +should I consider it worth while to say that we went there at all? All +manner of objects succeeded each other in a long series of dissolving +views, so to speak, nothing or next to nothing having a chance to leave +its individual impress. In the battle for life which took place in my +memory, as it always does among the multitude of claimants for a +permanent hold, I find that two objects came out survivors of the +contest. The first is the noble cast of the column of Trajan, vast in +dimensions, crowded with history in its most striking and enduring form; +a long array of figures representing in unquestioned realism the +military aspect of a Roman army. The second case of survival is thus +described in the catalogue: "An altar or shrine of a female saint, +recently acquired from Padua, is also ascribed to the same sculptor +[Donatello]. This very valuable work of art had for many years been used +as a drinking-trough for horses. A hole has been roughly pierced in it." +I thought the figure was the most nearly perfect image of heavenly +womanhood that I had ever looked upon, and I could have gladly given my +whole hour to sitting--I could almost say kneeling--before it in silent +contemplation. I found the curator of the Museum, Mr. Soden Smith, +shared my feelings with reference to the celestial loveliness of this +figure. Which is best, to live in a country where such a work of art is +taken for a horse-trough, or in a country where the products from the +studio of a self-taught handicraftsman, equal to the shaping of a +horse-trough and not much more, are put forward as works of art? + +A little time before my visit to England, before I had even thought of +it as a possibility, I had the honor of having two books dedicated to me +by two English brother physicians. One of these two gentlemen was Dr. +Walshe, of whom I shall speak hereafter; the other was Dr. J. Milner +Fothergill. The name Fothergill was familiar to me from my boyhood. My +old townsman, Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse, who died in 1846 at the age of +ninety-two, had a great deal to say about his relative Dr. John +Fothergill, the famous Quaker physician of the last century, of whom +Benjamin Franklin said, "I can hardly conceive that a better man ever +existed." Dr. and Mrs. Fothergill sent us some beautiful flowers a +little before we left, and when I visited him he gave me a medallion of +his celebrated kinsman. + +London is a place of mysteries. Looking out of one of the windows at the +back of Dr. Fothergill's house, I saw an immense wooden blind, such as +we have on our windows in summer, but reaching from the ground as high +as the top of the neighboring houses. While admitting the air freely, it +shut the property to which it belonged completely from sight. I asked +the meaning of this extraordinary structure, and learned that it was put +up by a great nobleman, of whose subterranean palace and strange +seclusion I had before heard. Common report attributed his unwillingness +to be seen to a disfiguring malady with which he was said to be +afflicted. The story was that he was visible only to his valet. But a +lady of quality, whom I met in this country, told me she had seen him, +and observed nothing to justify it. These old countries are full of +romances and legends and _diableries_ of all sorts, in which truth +and lies are so mixed that one does not know what to believe. What +happens behind the high walls of the old cities is as much a secret as +were the doings inside the prisons of the Inquisition. + +Little mistakes sometimes cause us a deal of trouble. This time it was +the presence or absence of a single letter which led us to fear that an +important package destined to America had miscarried. There were two +gentlemen unwittingly involved in the confusion. On inquiring for the +package at Messrs. Low, the publishers, Mr. Watts, to whom I thought it +had been consigned, was summoned. He knew nothing about it, had never +heard of it, was evidently utterly ignorant of us and our affairs. While +we were in trouble and uncertainty, our Boston friend, Mr. James R. +Osgood, came in. "Oh," said he, "it is Mr. Watt you want, the agent of a +Boston firm," and gave us the gentleman's address. I had confounded Mr. +Watt's name with Mr. Watts's name. "W'at's in a name?" A great deal +sometimes. I wonder if I shall be pardoned for quoting six lines from +one of my after-dinner poems of long ago:-- + + --One vague inflection spoils the whole with doubt, + One trivial letter ruins all, left out; + A knot can change a felon into clay, + A not will save him, spelt without the k; + The smallest word has some unguarded spot, + And danger lurks in i without a dot. + +I should find it hard to account for myself during our two short stays +in London in the month of August, separated by the week we passed in +Paris. The ferment of continued over-excitement, calmed very much by our +rest in the various places I have mentioned, had not yet wholly worked +itself off. There was some of that everlasting shopping to be done. +There were photographs to be taken, a call here and there to be made, a +stray visitor now and then, a walk in the morning to get back the use of +the limbs which had been too little exercised, and a drive every +afternoon to one of the parks, or the Thames Embankment, or other +locality. After all this, an honest night's sleep served to round out +the day, in which little had been effected besides making a few +purchases, writing a few letters, reading the papers, the Boston "Weekly +Advertiser" among the rest, and making arrangements for our passage +homeward. The sights we saw were looked upon for so short a time, most +of them so very superficially, that I am almost ashamed to say that I +have been in the midst of them and brought home so little. I remind +myself of my boyish amusement of _skipping stones_,--throwing a +flat stone so that it shall only touch the water, but touch it in half a +dozen places before it comes to rest beneath the smooth surface. The +drives we took showed us a thousand objects which arrested our +attention. Every street, every bridge, every building, every monument, +every strange vehicle, every exceptional personage, was a show which +stimulated our curiosity. For we had not as yet changed our Boston eyes +for London ones, and very common sights were spectacular and dramatic to +us. I remember that one of our New England country boys exclaimed, when +he first saw a block of city dwellings, "Darn it all, who ever see +anything like that 'are? Sich a lot o' haousen all stuck together!" I +must explain that "haousen" used in my early days to be as common an +expression in speaking of houses among our country-folk as its phonetic +equivalent ever was in Saxony. I felt not unlike that country-boy. + +In thinking of how much I missed seeing, I sometimes have said to +myself, Oh, if the carpet of the story in the Arabian Nights would only +take me up and carry me to London for one week,--just one short +week,--setting me down fresh from quiet, wholesome living, in my usual +good condition, and bringing me back at the end of it, what a different +account I could give of my experiences! But it is just as well as it is. +Younger eyes have studied and will study, more instructed travellers +have pictured and will picture, the great metropolis from a hundred +different points of view. No person can be said to know London. The most +that any one can claim is that he knows something of it. I am now just +going to leave it for another great capital, but in my concluding pages +I shall return to Great Britain, and give some of the general +impressions left by what I saw and heard in our mother country. + + + + +VII. + + +Straitened as we were for time, it was impossible to return home without +a glimpse, at least, of Paris. Two precious years of my early manhood +were spent there under the reign of Louis Philippe, king of the French, +_le Roi Citoyen_. I felt that I must look once more on the places I +knew so well,--once more before shutting myself up in the world of +recollections. It is hardly necessary to say that a lady can always find +a little shopping, and generally a good deal of it, to do in Paris. So +it was not difficult to persuade my daughter that a short visit to that +city was the next step to be taken. + +We left London on the 5th of August to go _via_ Folkestone and +Boulogne. The passage across the Channel was a very smooth one, and +neither of us suffered any inconvenience. Boulogne as seen from the +landing did not show to great advantage. I fell to thinking of Brummel, +and what a satisfaction it would have been to treat him to a good +dinner, and set him talking about the days of the Regency. Boulogne was +all Brummel in my associations, just as Calais was all Sterne. I find +everywhere that it is a distinctive personality which makes me want to +linger round a spot, more than an important historical event. There is +not much worth remembering about Brummel; but his audacity, his starched +neckcloth, his assumptions and their success, make him a curious subject +for the student of human nature. + +Leaving London at twenty minutes before ten in the forenoon, we arrived +in Paris at six in the afternoon. I could not say that the region of +France through which we passed was peculiarly attractive. I saw no fine +trees, no pretty cottages, like those so common in England. There was +little which an artist would be tempted to sketch, or a traveller by the +railroad would be likely to remember. + +The place where we had engaged lodgings was Hôtel d'Orient, in the Rue +Daunou. The situation was convenient, very near the Place Vendome and +the Rue de la Paix. But the house was undergoing renovations which made +it as unpresentable as a moulting fowl. Scrubbing, painting of blinds, +and other perturbing processes did all they could to make it +uncomfortable. The courtyard was always sloppy, and the whole condition +of things reminded me forcibly of the state of Mr. Briggs's household +while the mason was carrying out the complex operations which began with +the application of "a little compo." (I hope all my readers remember Mr. +Briggs, whose adventures as told by the pencil of John Leech are not +unworthy of comparison with those of Mr. Pickwick as related by +Dickens.) Barring these unfortunate conditions, the hotel was +commendable, and when in order would be a desirable place of temporary +residence. + +It was the dead season of Paris, and everything had the air of suspended +animation. The solitude of the Place Vendome was something oppressive; I +felt, as I trod its lonely sidewalk, as if I were wandering through +Tadmor in the Desert. We were indeed as remote, as unfriended,--I will +not say as melancholy or as slow,--as Goldsmith by the side of the lazy +Scheldt or the wandering Po. Not a soul did either of us know in that +great city. Our most intimate relations were with the people of the +hotel and with the drivers of the fiacres. These last were a singular +looking race of beings. Many of them had a dull red complexion, almost +brick color, which must have some general cause. I questioned whether +the red wine could have something to do with it. They wore glazed hats, +and drove shabby vehicles for the most part; their horses would not +compare with those of the London hansom drivers, and they themselves +were not generally inviting in aspect, though we met with no incivility +from any of them. One, I remember, was very voluble, and over-explained +everything, so that we became afraid to ask him a question. They were +fellow-creatures with whom one did not naturally enter into active +sympathy, and the principal point of interest about the fiacre and its +arrangements was whether the horse was fondest of trotting or of +walking. In one of our drives we made it a point to call upon our +Minister, Mr. McLane, but he was out of town. We did not bring a single +letter, but set off exactly as if we were on a picnic. + +While A---- and her attendant went about making their purchases, I +devoted myself to the sacred and pleasing task of reviving old memories. +One of the first places I visited was the house I lived in as a student, +which in my English friend's French was designated as "Noomero sankont +sank Roo Monshure ler Pranse." I had been told that the whole region +thereabout had been transformed by the creation of a new boulevard. I +did not find it so. There was the house, the lower part turned into a +shop, but there were the windows out of which I used to look along the +Rue Vaugirard,--_au troisième_ the first year, _au second_ the +second year. Why should I go mousing about the place? What would the +shopkeeper know about M. Bertrand, my landlord of half a century ago; or +his first wife, to whose funeral I went; or his second, to whose bridal +I was bidden? + +I ought next to have gone to the hospital La Pitié, where I passed much +of my time during those two years. But the people there would not know +me, and my old master's name, Louis, is but a dim legend in the wards +where he used to teach his faithful band of almost worshipping students. +Besides, I have not been among hospital beds for many a year, and my +sensibilities are almost as impressible as they were before daily habit +had rendered them comparatively callous. + +How strange it is to look down on one's venerated teachers, after +climbing with the world's progress half a century above the level where +we left them! The stethoscope was almost a novelty in those days. The +microscope was never mentioned by any clinical instructor I listened to +while a medical student. _Nous avons changé tout cela_ is true of +every generation in medicine,--changed oftentimes by improvement, +sometimes by fashion or the pendulum-swing from one extreme to another. + +On my way back from the hospital I used to stop at the beautiful little +church St. Etienne du Mont, and that was one of the first places to +which I drove after looking at my student-quarters. All was just as of +old. The tapers were burning about the tomb of St. Genevieve. Samson, +with the jawbone of the ass, still crouched and sweated, or looked as if +he did, under the weight of the pulpit. One might question how well the +preacher in the pulpit liked the suggestion of the figure beneath it. +The sculptured screen and gallery, the exquisite spiral stairways, the +carved figures about the organ, the tablets on the walls,--one in +particular relating the fall of two young girls from the gallery, and +their miraculous protection from injury,--all these images found their +counterpart in my memory. I did not remember how very beautiful is the +stained glass in the _charniers_, which must not be overlooked by +visitors. + +It is not far from St. Etienne du Mont to the Pantheon. I cannot say +that there is any odor of sanctity about this great temple, which has +been consecrated, if I remember correctly, and, I will not say +desecrated, but secularized from time to time, according to the party +which happened to be uppermost. I confess that I did not think of it +chiefly as a sacred edifice, or as the resting-place, more or less +secure, of the "_grands hommes_" to whom it is dedicated. I was +thinking much more of Foucault's grand experiment, one of the most +sublime visible demonstrations of a great physical fact in the records +of science. The reader may not happen to remember it, and will like, +perhaps, to be reminded of it. Foucault took advantage of the height of +the dome, nearly three hundred feet, and had a heavy weight suspended by +a wire from its loftiest point, forming an immense pendulum,--the +longest, I suppose, ever constructed. Now a moving body tends to keep +its original plane of movement, and so the great pendulum, being set +swinging north and south, tended to keep on in the same direction. But +the earth was moving under it, and as it rolled from west to east the +plane running through the north and south poles was every instant +changing. Thus the pendulum appeared to change its direction, and its +deviation was shown on a graduated arc, or by the marks it left in a +little heap of sand which it touched as it swung. This experiment on the +great scale has since been repeated on the small scale by the aid of +other contrivances. + +My thoughts wandered back, naturally enough, to Galileo in the Cathedral +at Pisa. It was the swinging of the suspended lamp in that edifice which +set his mind working on the laws which govern the action of the +pendulum. While he was meditating on this physical problem, the priest +may have been holding forth on the dangers of meddling with matters +settled by Holy Church, who stood ready to enforce her edicts by the +logic of the rack and the fagot. An inference from the above remarks is +that what one brings from a church depends very much on what he carries +into it. + +The next place to visit could be no other than the Café Procope. This +famous resort is the most ancient and the most celebrated of all the +Parisian cafés. Voltaire, the poet J. B. Rousseau, Marmontel, Sainte +Foix, Saurin, were among its frequenters in the eighteenth century. It +stands in the Rue des Fossés-Saint Germain, now Rue de l'Ancienne +Comédie. Several American students, Bostonians and Philadelphians, +myself among the number, used to breakfast at this café every morning. I +have no doubt that I met various celebrities there, but I recall only +one name which is likely to be known to most or many of my readers. A +delicate-looking man, seated at one of the tables, was pointed out to me +as Jouffroy. If I had known as much about him as I learned afterwards, I +should have looked at him with more interest. He had one of those +imaginative natures, tinged by constitutional melancholy and saddened by +ill health, which belong to a certain class of poets and sentimental +writers, of which Pascal is a good example, and Cowper another. The +world must have seemed very cruel to him. I remember that when he was a +candidate for the Assembly, one of the popular cries, as reported by the +newspapers of the time, was _A bas le poitrinaire!_ His malady soon +laid him low enough, for he died in 1842, at the age of forty-six. I +must have been very much taken up with my medical studies to have +neglected my opportunity of seeing the great statesmen, authors, +artists, orators, and men of science outside of the medical profession. +Poisson, Arago, and Jouffroy are all I can distinctly recall, among the +Frenchmen of eminence whom I had all around me. + +The Café Procope has been much altered and improved, and bears an +inscription telling the date of its establishment, which was in the year +1689. I entered the cafe, which was nearly or quite empty, the usual +breakfast hour being past. + +_Garçon! Une tasse de café._ + +If there is a river of _mneme_ as a counterpart of the river +_lethe_, my cup of coffee must have got its water from that stream +of memory. If I could borrow that eloquence of Jouffroy which made his +hearers turn pale, I might bring up before my readers a long array of +pallid ghosts, whom these walls knew well in their earthly habiliments. +Only a single one of those I met here still survives. The rest are +mostly well-nigh forgotten by all but a few friends, or remembered +chiefly in their children and grandchildren. + +"How much?" I said to the garçon in his native tongue, or what I +supposed to be that language. "_Cinq sous_," was his answer. By the +laws of sentiment, I ought to have made the ignoble sum five francs, at +least. But if I had done so, the waiter would undoubtedly have thought +that I had just come from Charenton. Besides, why should I violate the +simple habits and traditions of the place, where generation after +generation of poor students and threadbare Bohemians had taken their +morning coffee and pocketed their two lumps of sugar? It was with a +feeling of virile sanity and Roman self-conquest that I paid my five +sous, with the small additional fraction which I supposed the waiter to +expect, and no more. + +So I passed for the last time over the threshold of the Café Procope, +where Voltaire had matured his plays and Piron sharpened his epigrams; +where Jouffroy had battled with his doubts and fears; where, since their +time,--since my days of Parisian life,--the terrible storming youth, +afterwards renowned as Léon Michel Gambetta, had startled the quiet +guests with his noisy eloquence, till the old _habitués_ spilled +their coffee, and the red-capped students said to each other, _"Il ira +loin, ce gaillard-là!"_ + +But what to me were these shadowy figures by the side of the group of my +early friends and companions, that came up before me in all the +freshness of their young manhood? The memory of them recalls my own +youthful days, and I need not go to Florida to bathe in the fountain of +Ponce de Leon. + +I have sometimes thought that I love so well the accidents of this +temporary terrestrial residence, its endeared localities, its precious +affections, its pleasing variety of occupation, its alternations of +excited and gratified curiosity, and whatever else comes nearest to the +longings of the natural man, that I might be wickedly homesick in a +far-off spiritual realm where such toys are done with. But there is a +pretty lesson which I have often meditated, taught, not this time by the +lilies of the field, but by the fruits of the garden. When, in the June +honeymoon of the seasons, the strawberry shows itself among the bridal +gifts, many of us exclaim for the hundredth time with Dr. Boteler, +"Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never +did." Nature, who is God's handmaid, does not attempt a rival berry. But +by and by a little woolly knob, which looked and saw with wonder the +strawberry reddening, and perceived the fragrance it diffused all +around, begins to fill out, and grow soft and pulpy and sweet; and at +last a glow comes to its cheek, and we say the peach is ripening. When +Nature has done with it, and delivers it to us in its perfection, we +forget all the lesser fruits which have gone before it. If the flavor of +the peach and the fragrance of the rose are not found in some fruit and +flower which grow by the side of the river of life, an earth-born spirit +might be forgiven for missing them. The strawberry and the pink are very +delightful, but we could be happy without them. + +So, too, we may hope that when the fruits of our brief early season of +three or four score years have given us all they can impart for our +happiness; when "the love of little maids and berries," and all other +earthly prettinesses, shall "soar and sing," as Mr. Emerson sweetly +reminds us that they all must, we may hope that the abiding felicities +of our later life-season may far more than compensate us for all that +have taken their flight. + +I looked forward with the greatest interest to revisiting the Gallery of +the Louvre, accompanied by my long-treasured recollections. I retained a +vivid remembrance of many pictures, which had been kept bright by seeing +great numbers of reproductions of them in photographs and engravings. + +The first thing which struck me was that the pictures had been +rearranged in such a way that I could find nothing in the place where I +looked for it. But when I found them, they greeted me, so I fancied, +like old acquaintances. The meek-looking "Belle Jardinière" was as +lamb-like as ever; the pearly nymph of Correggio invited the stranger's +eye as frankly as of old; Titian's young man with the glove was the +calm, self-contained gentleman I used to admire; the splashy Rubenses, +the pallid Guidos, the sunlit Claudes, the shadowy Poussins, the moonlit +Girardets, Géricault's terrible shipwreck of the Medusa, the exquisite +home pictures of Gerard Douw and Terburg,--all these and many more have +always been on exhibition in my ideal gallery, and I only mention them +as the first that happen to suggest themselves. The Museum of the Hôtel +Cluny is a curious receptacle of antiquities, many of which I looked at +with interest; but they made no lasting impression, and have gone into +the lumber-room of memory, from which accident may, from time to time, +drag out some few of them. + +After the poor unsatisfactory towers of Westminster Abbey, the two +massive, noble, truly majestic towers of Notre Dame strike the traveller +as a crushing contrast. It is not hard to see that one of these grand +towers is somewhat larger than the other, but the difference does not +interfere with the effect of the imposing front of the cathedral. + +I was much pleased to find that I could have entrance to the Sainte +Chapelle, which was used, at the time of my earlier visit, as a +storehouse of judicial archives, of which there was a vast accumulation. + +With the exception of my call at the office of the American Legation, I +made but a single visit to any person in Paris. That person was M. +Pasteur. I might have carried a letter to him, for my friend Mrs. +Priestley is well acquainted with him, but I had not thought of asking +for one. So I presented myself at his headquarters, and was admitted +into a courtyard, where a multitude of his patients were gathered. They +were of various ages and of many different nationalities, every one of +them with the vague terror hanging over him or her. Yet the young people +seemed to be cheerful enough, and very much like scholars out of school. +I sent my card in to M. Pasteur, who was busily engaged in writing, with +his clerks or students about him, and presently he came out and greeted +me. I told him I was an American physician, who wished to look in his +face and take his hand,--nothing more. I looked in his face, which was +that of a thoughtful, hard-worked student, a little past the grand +climacteric,--he was born in 1822. I took his hand, which has performed +some of the most delicate and daring experiments ever ventured upon, +with results of almost incalculable benefit to human industries, and the +promise of triumph in the treatment of human disease which prophecy +would not have dared to anticipate. I will not say that I have a full +belief that hydrophobia--in some respects the most terrible of all +diseases--is to be extirpated or rendered tractable by his method of +treatment. But of his inventive originality, his unconquerable +perseverance, his devotion to the good of mankind, there can be no +question. I look upon him as one of the greatest experimenters that ever +lived, one of the truest benefactors of his race; and if I made my due +obeisance before princes, I felt far more humble in the presence of this +great explorer, to whom the God of Nature has entrusted some of her most +precious secrets. + +There used to be--I can hardly think it still exists--a class of +persons who prided themselves on their disbelief in the reality of any +such distinct disease as hydrophobia. I never thought it worth while to +argue with them, for I have noticed that this disbelief is only a +special manifestation of a particular habit of mind. Its advocates will +be found, I think, most frequently among "the long-haired men and the +short-haired women." Many of them dispute the efficacy of vaccination. +Some are disciples of Hahnemann, some have full faith in the mind-cure, +some attend the séances where flowers (bought from the nearest florist) +are materialized, and some invest their money in Mrs. Howe's Bank of +Benevolence. Their tendency is to reject the truth which is generally +accepted, and to accept the improbable; if the impossible offers itself, +they deny the existence of the impossible. Argument with this class of +minds is a lever without a fulcrum. + +I was glad to leave that company of--patients, still uncertain of their +fate,--hoping, yet pursued by their terror: peasants bitten by mad +wolves in Siberia; women snapped at by their sulking lap-dogs in London; +children from over the water who had been turned upon by the irritable +Skye terrier; innocent victims torn by ill-conditioned curs at the doors +of the friends they were meaning to visit,--all haunted by the same +ghastly fear, all starting from sleep in the same nightmare. + +If canine rabies is a fearful subject to contemplate, there is a sadder +and deeper significance in _rabies humana_; in that awful madness +of the human race which is marked by a thirst for blood and a rage for +destruction. The remembrance of such a distemper which has attacked +mankind, especially mankind of the Parisian sub-species, came over me +very strongly when I first revisited the Place Vendôme. I should have +supposed that the last object upon which Parisians would, in their +wildest frenzy, have laid violent hands would have been the column with +the figure of Napoleon at its summit. We all know what happened in 1871. +An artist, we should have thought, would be the last person to lead the +iconoclasts in such an outrage. But M. Courbet has attained an +immortality like that of Erostratus by the part he took in pulling down +the column. It was restored in 1874. I do not question that the work of +restoration was well done, but my eyes insisted on finding a fault in +some of its lines which was probably in their own refracting media. +Fifty years before an artist helped to overthrow the monument to the +Emperor, a poet had apostrophized him in the bitterest satire since the +days of Juvenal:-- + + "Encor Napoléon! encor sa grande image! + Ah! que ce rude et dur guerrier + Nous a couté de sang et de pleurs et d'outrage + Pour quelques rameaux de laurier! + + * * * * * + + "Eh bien! dans tous ces jours d'abaissement, de peine, + Pour tous ces outrages sans nom, + Je n'ai jamais chargé qu'un être de ma haine,... + Sois maudit, O Napoléon!" + +After looking at the column of the Place Vendôme and recalling these +lines of Barbier, I was ready for a visit to the tomb of Napoleon. The +poet's curse had helped me to explain the painter's frenzy against the +bronze record of his achievements and the image at its summit. But I +forgot them both as I stood under the dome of the Invalides, and looked +upon the massive receptacle which holds the dust of the imperial exile. +Two things, at least, Napoleon accomplished: he opened the way for +ability of all kinds, and he dealt the death-blow to the divine right of +kings and all the abuses which clung to that superstition. If I brought +nothing else away from my visit to his mausoleum, I left it impressed +with what a man can be when fully equipped by nature, and placed in +circumstances where his forces can have full play. "How infinite in +faculty! ... in apprehension how like a god!" Such were my reflections; +very much, I suppose, like those of the average visitor, and too +obviously having nothing to require contradiction or comment. + +Paris as seen by the morning sun of three or four and twenty and Paris +in the twilight of the superfluous decade cannot be expected to look +exactly alike. I well remember my first breakfast at a Parisian café in +the spring of 1833. It was in the Place de la Bourse, on a beautiful +sunshiny morning. The coffee was nectar, the _flute_ was ambrosia, +the _brioche_ was more than good enough for the Olympians. Such an +experience could not repeat itself fifty years later. The first +restaurant at which we dined was in the Palais Royal. The place was hot +enough to cook an egg. Nothing was very excellent nor very bad; the wine +was not so good as they gave us at our hotel in London; the enchanter +had not waved his wand over our repast, as he did over my earlier one in +the Place de la Bourse, and I had not the slightest desire to pay the +garçon thrice his fee on the score of cherished associations. + +We dined at our hotel on some days, at different restaurants on others. +One day we dined, and dined well, at the old Café Anglais, famous in my +earlier times for its turbot. Another day we took our dinner at a very +celebrated restaurant on the boulevard. One sauce which was served us +was a gastronomic symphony, the harmonies of which were new to me and +pleasing. But I remember little else of superior excellence. The garçon +pocketed the franc I gave him with the air of having expected a +napoleon. + +Into the mysteries of a lady's shopping in Paris I would not venture to +inquire. But A---- and I strolled together through the Palais Royal in +the evening, and amused ourselves by staring at the glittering windows +without being severely tempted. Bond Street had exhausted our +susceptibility to the shop-window seduction, and the napoleons did not +burn in the pockets where the sovereigns had had time to cool. + +Nothing looked more nearly the same as of old than the bridges. The Pont +Neuf did not seem to me altered, though we had read in the papers that +it was in ruins or seriously injured in consequence of a great flood. +The statues had been removed from the Pont Royal, one or two new bridges +had been built, but all was natural enough, and I was tempted to look +for the old woman, at the end of the Pont des Arts, who used to sell me +a bunch of violets, for two or three sous,--such as would cost me a +quarter of a dollar in Boston. I did not see the three objects which a +popular saying alleges are always to be met on the Pont Neuf: a priest, +a soldier, and a white horse. + +The weather was hot; we were tired, and did not care to go to the +theatres, if any of them were open. The pleasantest hours were those of +our afternoon drive in the Champs Elysées and the Bois de Boulogne,--or +"the Boulogne Woods," as our American tailor's wife of the old time +called the favorite place for driving. In passing the Place de la +Concorde, two objects in especial attracted my attention,--the obelisk, +which was lying, when I left it, in the great boat which brought it from +the Nile, and the statue of Strasbourg, all covered with wreaths and +flags. How like children these Parisians do act; crying "À Berlin, à +Berlin!" and when Berlin comes to Paris, and Strasbourg goes back to her +old proprietors, instead of taking it quietly, making all this parade of +patriotic symbols, the display of which belongs to victory rather than +to defeat! + +I was surprised to find the trees in the Bois de Boulogne so well grown: +I had an idea that they had been largely sacrificed in the time of the +siege. Among the objects which deserve special mention are the shrieking +parrots and other birds and the yelping dogs in the grounds of the +Society of Acclimatization,--out of the range of which the visitor will +be glad to get as soon as possible. A fountain visited by newly married +couples and their friends, with a restaurant near by, where the bridal +party drink the health of the newly married pair, was an object of +curiosity. An unsteadiness of gait was obvious in some of the feasters. +At one point in the middle of the road a maenad was flinging her arms +about and shrieking as if she were just escaped from a madhouse. But the +drive in the Bois was what made Paris tolerable. There were few fine +equipages, and few distinguished-looking people in the carriages, but +there were quiet groups by the wayside, seeming happy enough; and now +and then a pretty face or a wonderful bonnet gave variety to the +somewhat _bourgeois_ character of the procession of fiacres. + +[Illustration: Place de la Concorde] + +I suppose I ought to form no opinion at all about the aspect of Paris, +any more than I should of an oyster in a month without an _r_ in +it. We were neither of us in the best mood for sight-seeing, and Paris +was not sitting up for company; in fact, she was "not at home." +Remembering all this, I must say that the whole appearance of the city +was dull and dreary. London out of season seemed still full of life; +Paris out of season looked vacuous and torpid. The recollection of the +sorrow, the humiliation, the shame, and the agony she had passed through +since I left her picking her way on the arm of the Citizen King, with +his old _riflard_ over her, rose before me sadly, ominously, as I +looked upon the high board fence which surrounded the ruins of the +Tuileries. I can understand the impulse which led the red caps to make a +wreck of this grand old historical building. "Pull down the nest," they +said, "and the birds will not come back." But I shudder when I think +what "the red fool-fury of the Seine" has done and is believed capable +of doing. I think nothing has so profoundly impressed me as the story of +the precautions taken to preserve the Venus of Milo from the brutal +hands of the mob. A little more violent access of fury, a little more +fiery declamation, a few more bottles of _vin bleu_, and the +Gallery of the Louvre, with all its treasures of art, compared with +which the crown jewels just sold are but pretty pebbles, the market +price of which fairly enough expresses their value,--much more, rather, +than their true value,--that noble gallery, with all its masterpieces +from the hands of Greek sculptors and Italian painters, would have been +changed in a single night into a heap of blackened stones and a pile of +smoking cinders. + +I love to think that now that the people have, or at least think they +have, the power in their own hands, they will outgrow this form of +madness, which is almost entitled to the name of a Parisian endemic. +Everything looked peaceable and stupid enough during the week I passed +in Paris. But among all the fossils which Cuvier found in the Parisian +basin, nothing was more monstrous than the _poissardes_ of the old +Revolution, or the _pétroleuses_ of the recent Commune, and I fear +that the breed is not extinct. An American comes to like Paris as warmly +as he comes to love England, after living in it long enough to become +accustomed to its ways, and I, like the rest of my countrymen who +remember that France was our friend in the hour of need, who remember +all the privileges and enjoyments she has freely offered us, who feel +that as a sister republic her destinies are of the deepest interest to +us, can have no other wish than for her continued safety, order, and +prosperity. + +We returned to London on the 13th of August by the same route we had +followed in going from London to Paris. Our passage was rough, as +compared to the former one, and some of the passengers were seasick. We +were both fortunate enough to escape that trial of comfort and +self-respect. + +I can hardly separate the story of the following week from that of the +one before we went to Paris. We did a little more shopping and saw a few +more sights. I hope that no reader of mine would suppose that I would +leave London without seeing Madame Tussaud's exhibition. Our afternoon +drives made us familiar with many objects which I always looked upon +with pleasure. There was the obelisk, brought from Egypt at the expense +of a distinguished and successful medical practitioner, Sir Erasmus +Wilson, the eminent dermatologist and author of a manual of anatomy +which for many years was my favorite text-book. There was "The +Monument," which characterizes itself by having no prefix to its generic +name. I enjoyed looking at and driving round it, and thinking over +Pepys's lively account of the Great Fire, and speculating as to where +Pudding Lane and Pie Corner stood, and recalling Pope's lines which I +used to read at school, wondering what was the meaning of the second +one:-- + + "Where London's column, pointing to the skies + Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies." + +The week passed away rapidly enough, and we made ready for our +departure. It was no easy matter to get a passage home, but we had at +last settled it that we would return in the same vessel in which we had +at first engaged our passage to Liverpool, the Catalonia. But we were +fortunate enough to have found an active and efficient friend in our +townsman, Mr. Montgomery Sears, who procured staterooms for us in a much +swifter vessel, to sail on the 21st for New York, the Aurania. + +Our last visitor in London was the faithful friend who had been the +first to welcome us, Lady Harcourt, in whose kind attentions I felt the +warmth of my old friendship with her admired and honored father and her +greatly beloved mother. I had recently visited their place of rest in +the Kensal Green Cemetery, recalling with tenderest emotions the many +years in which I had enjoyed their companionship. + +On the 19th of August we left London for Liverpool, and on our arrival +took lodgings at the Adelphi Hotel. + +The kindness with which I had been welcomed, when I first arrived at +Liverpool, had left a deep impression upon my mind. It seemed very +ungrateful to leave that noble city, which had met me in some of its +most esteemed representatives with a warm grasp of the hand even before +my foot had touched English soil, without staying to thank my new +friends, who would have it that they were old friends. But I was +entirely unfit for enjoying any company when I landed. I took care, +therefore, to allow sufficient time in Liverpool, before sailing for +home, to meet such friends, old and recent, as cared to make or renew +acquaintance with me. In the afternoon of the 20th we held a reception, +at which a hundred visitors, more or less, presented themselves, and we +had a very sociable hour or two together. The Vice-Consul, Mr. Sewall, +in the enforced absence of his principal, Mr. Russell, paid us every +attention, and was very agreeable. In the evening I was entertained at a +great banquet given by the Philomathean Society. This flourishing +institution enrolls among its members a large proportion of the most +cultivated and intelligent gentlemen of Liverpool. I enjoyed the meeting +very highly, listened to pleasant things which were said about myself, +and answered in the unpremeditated words which came to my lips and were +cordially received. I could have wished to see more of Liverpool, but I +found time only to visit the great exhibition, then open. The one class +of objects which captivated my attention was the magnificent series of +models of steamboats and other vessels. I did not look upon them with +the eye of an expert, but the great number and variety of these +beautiful miniature ships and boats excited my admiration. + +On the 21st of August we went on board the Aurania. Everything was done +to make us comfortable. Many old acquaintances, friends, and family +connections were our fellow-passengers. As for myself, I passed through +the same trying experiences as those which I have recorded as +characterizing my outward passage. Our greatest trouble during the +passage was from fog. The frequency of collisions, of late years, tends +to make everybody nervous when they hear the fog-whistle shrieking. This +sound and the sight of the boats are not good for timid people. +Fortunately, no one was particularly excitable, or if so, no one +betrayed any special uneasiness. + +On the evening of the 27th we had an entertainment, in which Miss +Kellogg sang and I read several poems. A very pretty sum was realized +for some charity,--I forget what,--and the affair was voted highly +successful. The next day, the 28th, we were creeping towards our harbor +through one of those dense fogs which are more dangerous than the old +rocks of the sirens, or Scylla and Charybdis, or the much-lied-about +maelstrom. + +On Sunday, the 29th of August, my birthday, we arrived in New York. In +these days of birthday-books our chronology is not a matter of secret +history, in case we have been much before the public. I found a great +cake had been made ready for me, in which the number of my summers was +represented by a ring of raisins which made me feel like Methuselah. A +beautiful bouquet which had been miraculously preserved for the occasion +was for the first time displayed. It came from Dr. Beach, of Boston, +_via_ London. Such is the story, and I can only suppose that the +sweet little cherub who sits up aloft had taken special charge of it, or +it would have long ago withered. + +We slept at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, which we found fresh, sweet, +bright,--it must have been recently rejuvenated, I thought. The next day +we took the train for New Haven, Springfield, and Boston, and that night +slept in our own beds, thankful to find ourselves safe at home after our +summer excursion, which had brought us so many experiences delightful to +remember, so many friendships which have made life better worth living. + +In the following section I shall give some of the general impressions +which this excursion has left in my memory, and a few suggestions +derived from them. + + + + +VIII. + + +My reader was fairly forewarned that this narrative was to be more like +a chapter of autobiography than the record of a tourist. In the language +of philosophy, it is written from a subjective, not an objective, point +of view. It is not exactly a "Sentimental Journey," though there are +warm passages here and there which end with notes of admiration. I +remind myself now and then of certain other travellers: of Benjamin of +Tudela, going from the hospitalities of one son of Abraham to another; +of John Buncle, finding the loveliest of women under every roof that +sheltered him; sometimes, perhaps, of that tipsy rhymester whose record +of his good and bad fortunes at the hands of landlords and landladies is +enlivened by an occasional touch of humor, which makes it palatable to +coarse literary feeders. But in truth these papers have many of the +characteristics of private letters written home to friends. They +_are_ written for friends, rather than for a public which cares +nothing about the writer. I knew that there were many such whom it would +please to know where the writer went, whom he saw and what he saw, and +how he was impressed by persons and things. + +If I were planning to make a tour of the United Kingdom, and could +command the service of all the wise men I count or have counted among my +friends, I would go with such a retinue summoned from the ranks of the +living and the dead as no prince ever carried with him. I would ask Mr. +Lowell to go with me among scholars, where I could be a listener; Mr. +Norton to visit the cathedrals with me; Professor Gray to be my +botanical oracle; Professor Agassiz to be always ready to answer +questions about the geological strata and their fossils; Dr. Jeffries +Wyman to point out and interpret the common objects which present +themselves to a sharp-eyed observer; and Mr. Boyd Dawkins to pilot me +among the caves and cairns. Then I should want a better pair of eyes and +a better pair of ears, and, while I was reorganizing, perhaps a quicker +apprehension and a more retentive memory; in short, a new outfit, bodily +and mental. But Nature does not care to mend old shoes; she prefers a +new pair, and a young person to stand in them. + +What a great book one could make, with such aids, and how many would +fling it down, and take up anything in preference, provided only that it +were short enough; even this slight record, for want of something +shorter! + +Not only did I feel sure that many friends would like to read our +itinerary, but another motive prompted me to tell the simple story of +our travels. I could not receive such kindness, so great evidences of +friendly regard, without a strong desire, amounting to a positive +necessity, for the expression of my grateful sense of all that had been +done for us. Individually, I felt it, of course, as a most pleasing +experience. But I believed it to have a more important significance as +an illustration of the cordial feeling existing between England and +America. I know that many of my countrymen felt the attentions paid to +me as if they themselves shared them with me. I have lived through many +strata of feeling in America towards England. My parents, full-blooded +Americans, were both born subjects of King George III. Both learned in +their early years to look upon Britons as the enemies of their country. +A good deal of the old hostility lingered through my boyhood, and this +was largely intensified by the war of 1812. After nearly half a century +this feeling had in great measure subsided, when the War of Secession +called forth expressions of sympathy with the slaveholding States which +surprised, shocked, and deeply wounded the lovers of liberty and of +England in the Northern States. A new generation is outgrowing that +alienation. More and more the older and younger nations are getting to +be proud and really fond of each other. There is no shorter road to a +mother's heart than to speak pleasantly to her child, and caress it, and +call it pretty names. No matter whether the child is something +remarkable or not, it is _her_ child, and that is enough. It may be +made too much of, but that is not its mother's fault. If I could believe +that every attention paid me was due simply to my being an American, I +should feel honored and happy in being one of the humbler media through +which the good-will of a great and generous country reached the heart of +a far-off people not always in friendly relations with her. + +I have named many of the friends who did everything to make our stay in +England and Scotland agreeable. The unforeseen shortening of my visit +must account for many disappointments to myself, and some, it may be, to +others. + +First in the list of lost opportunities was that of making my bow to the +Queen. I had the honor of receiving a card with the invitation to meet +Her Majesty at a garden-party, but we were travelling when it was sent, +and it arrived too late. + +I was very sorry not to meet Mr. Ruskin, to whom Mr. Norton had given me +a note of introduction. At the time when we were hoping to see him it +was thought that he was too ill to receive visitors, but he has since +written me that he regretted we did not carry out our intention. I +lamented my being too late to see once more two gentlemen from whom I +should have been sure of a kind welcome,--Lord Houghton and Dean +Stanley, both of whom I had met in Boston. Even if I had stayed out the +whole time I had intended to remain abroad, I should undoubtedly have +failed to see many persons and many places that I must always feel sorry +for having missed. But as it is, I will not try to count all that I +lost; let me rather be thankful that I met so many friends whom it was a +pleasure to know personally, and saw so much that it is a pleasure to +remember. + +I find that many of the places I most wish to see are those associated +with the memory of some individual, generally one of the generations +more or less in advance of my own. One of the first places I should go +to, in a leisurely tour, would be Selborne. Gilbert White was not a +poet, neither was he a great systematic naturalist. But he used his eyes +on the world about him; he found occupation and happiness in his daily +walks, and won as large a measure of immortality within the confines of +his little village as he could have gained in exploring the sources of +the Nile. I should make a solemn pilgrimage to the little town of Eyam, +in Derbyshire, where the Reverend Mr. Mompesson, the hero of the plague +of 1665, and his wife, its heroine and its victim, lie buried. I should +like to follow the traces of Cowper at Olney and of Bunyan at Elstow. I +found an intense interest in the Reverend Mr. Alger's account of his +visit to the Vale of Llangollen, where Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss +Ponsonby passed their peaceful days in long, uninterrupted friendship. +Of course the haunts of Burns, the home of Scott, the whole region made +sacred by Wordsworth and the group to which he belongs would be so many +shrines to which I should make pilgrimages. + +I own, also, to having something of the melodramatic taste so notable in +Victor Hugo. I admired the noble façade of Wells cathedral and the grand +old episcopal palace, but I begged the bishop to show me the place where +his predecessor, Bishop Kidder, and his wife, were killed by the falling +chimney in the "Great Storm."--I wanted to go to Devizes, and see the +monument in the market-place, where Ruth Pierce was struck dead with a +lie in her mouth,--about all which I had read in early boyhood. I +contented myself with a photograph of it which my friend, Mr. Willett, +went to Devizes and bought for me. + +There are twenty different Englands, every one of which it would be a +delight to visit, and I should hardly know with which of them to begin. + +The few remarks I have to make on what I saw and heard have nothing +beyond the value of first impressions; but as I have already said, if +these are simply given, without pretending to be anything more, they are +not worthless. At least they can do little harm, and may sometimes amuse +a reader whom they fail to instruct. But we must all beware of hasty +conclusions. If a foreigner of limited intelligence were whirled through +England on the railways, he would naturally come to the conclusion that +the chief product of that country is _mustard_, and that its most +celebrated people are Mr. Keen and Mr. Colman, whose great advertising +boards, yellow letters on a black ground, and black letters on a yellow +ground, stare the traveller in the face at every station. + +Of the climate, as I knew it in May and the summer months, I will only +say that if I had any illusions about May and June in England, my +fireplace would have been ample evidence that I was entirely +disenchanted. The Derby day, the 26th of May, was most chilly and +uncomfortable; at the garden-party at Kensington Palace, on the 4th of +June, it was cold enough to make hot drinks and warm wraps a comfort, if +not a necessity. I was thankful to have passed through these two ordeals +without ill consequences. Drizzly, or damp, or cold, cloudy days were +the rule rather than the exception, while we were in London. We had some +few hot days, especially at Stratford, in the early part of July. In +London an umbrella is as often carried as a cane; in Paris _"un homme +à para-pluie"_ is, or used to be, supposed to carry that useful +article because he does not keep and cannot hire a carriage of some +sort. He may therefore be safely considered a person, and not a +personage. + +The soil of England does not seem to be worn out, to judge by the +wonderful verdure and the luxuriance of vegetation. It contains a great +museum of geological specimens, and a series of historical strata which +are among the most instructive of human records. I do not pretend to +much knowledge of geology. The most interesting geological objects in +our New England that I can think of are the great boulders and the +scratched and smoothed surface of the rocks; the fossil footprints in +the valley of the Connecticut; the trilobites found at Quincy. But the +readers of Hugh Miller remember what a variety of fossils he found in +the stratified rocks of his little island, and the museums are full of +just such objects. When it comes to underground historical relics, the +poverty of New England as compared with the wealth of Old England is +very striking. Stratum after stratum carries the explorer through the +relics of successive invaders. After passing through the characteristic +traces of different peoples, he comes upon a Roman pavement, and below +this the weapons and ornaments of a tribe of ancient Britons. One cannot +strike a spade into the earth, in Great Britain, without a fair chance +of some surprise in the form of a Saxon coin, or a Celtic implement, or +a Roman fibula. Nobody expects any such pleasing surprise in a New +England field. One must be content with an Indian arrowhead or two, now +and then a pestle and mortar, or a stone pipe. A top dressing of +antiquity is all he can look for. The soil is not humanized enough to be +interesting; whereas in England so much of it has been trodden by human +feet, built on in the form of human habitations, nay, has been itself a +part of preceding generations of human beings, that it is in a kind of +dumb sympathy with those who tread its turf. Perhaps it is not literally +true that + + One half her soil has walked the rest + In poets, heroes, martyrs, sages; + +but so many of all these lie within it that the whole mother island is a +_campo santo_ to all who can claim the same blood as that which +runs in the veins of her unweaned children. + +The flora and fauna of a country, as seen from railroad trains and +carriages, are not likely to be very accurately or exhaustively studied. +I spoke of the trees I noticed between Chester and London somewhat +slightingly. But I did not form any hasty opinions from what happened to +catch my eye. Afterwards, in the oaks and elms of Windsor Park, in the +elms of Cambridge and Oxford and Salisbury, in the lindens of Stratford, +in the various noble trees, including the cedar of Lebanon, in which +Tennyson very justly felt a pride as their owner, I saw enough to make +me glad that I had not uttered any rash generalizations on the strength +of my first glance. The most interesting comparison I made was between +the New England and the Old England elms. It is not necessary to cross +the ocean to do this, as we have both varieties growing side by side in +our parks,--on Boston Common, for instance. It is wonderful to note how +people will lie about big trees. There must be as many as a dozen trees, +each of which calls itself the "largest elm in New England." In my +younger days, when I never travelled without a measuring-tape in my +pocket, it amused me to see how meek one of the great swaggering elms +would look when it saw the fatal measure begin to unreel itself. It +seemed to me that the leaves actually trembled as the inexorable band +encircled the trunk in _the smallest place it could find_, which is +the only safe rule. The English elm (_Ulmus campestris_) as we see +it in Boston comes out a little earlier perhaps, than our own, but the +difference is slight. It holds its leaves long after our elms are bare. +It grows upward, with abundant dark foliage, while ours spreads, +sometimes a hundred and twenty feet, and often droops like a weeping +willow. The English elm looks like a much more robust tree than ours, +yet they tell me it is very fragile, and that its limbs are constantly +breaking off in high winds, just as happens with our native elms. Ours +is not a very long-lived tree; between two and three hundred years is, I +think, the longest life that can be hoped for it. Since I have heard of +the fragility of the English elm, which is the fatal fault of our own, I +have questioned whether it can claim a greater longevity than ours. +There is a hint of a typical difference in the American and the +Englishman which I have long recognized in the two elms as compared to +each other. It may be fanciful, but I have thought that the compactness +and robustness about the English elm, which are replaced by the long, +tapering limbs and willowy grace and far-spreading reach of our own, +might find a certain parallelism in the people, especially the females +of the two countries. + +I saw no horse-chestnut trees equal to those I remember in Salem, and +especially to one in Rockport, which is the largest and finest I have +ever seen; no willows like those I pass in my daily drives. + +On the other hand, I think I never looked upon a Lombardy poplar equal +to one I saw in Cambridge, England. This tree seems to flourish in +England much more than with us. + +I do not remember any remarkable beeches, though there are some very +famous ones, especially the Burnham beeches. + +No apple-trees I saw in England compare with one next my own door, and +there are many others as fine in the neighborhood. + +I have spoken of the pleasure I had in seeing by the roadside primroses, +cowslips, and daisies. Dandelions, buttercups, hawkweed looked much as +ours do at home. Wild roses also grew at the roadside,--smaller and +paler, I thought, than ours. + +I cannot make a chapter like the famous one on Iceland, from my own +limited observation: _There are no snakes in England._ I can say +that I found two small caterpillars on my overcoat, in coming from Lord +Tennyson's grounds. If they had stayed on his premises, they might +perhaps have developed into "purple emperors," or spread "the tiger +moth's deep damasked wings" before the enraptured eyes of the noble +poet. These two caterpillars and a few house-flies are all I saw, heard, +or felt, by day or night, of the native fauna of England, except a few +birds,--rooks, starlings, a blackbird, and the larks of Salisbury Plain +just as they rose; for I lost sight of them almost immediately. I +neither heard nor saw the nightingales, to my great regret. They had +been singing at Oxford a short time before my visit to that place. The +only song I heard was that which I have mentioned, the double note of +the cuckoo. + +England is the paradise of horses. They are bred, fed, trained, groomed, +housed, cared for, in a way to remind one of the Houyhnhnms, and +strikingly contrasting with the conditions of life among the wretched +classes whose existence is hardly more tolerable than that of those +_quasi_-human beings under whose name it pleased the fierce +satirist to degrade humanity. The horses that are driven in the hansoms +of London are the best I have seen in any public conveyance. I cannot +say as much of those in the four-wheelers. + +Broad streets, sometimes, as in Bond Street, with narrow sidewalks; +_islands_ for refuge in the middle of many of them; deep areas; +lofty houses; high walls; plants in the windows; frequent open spaces; +policemen at near intervals, always polite in my experience,--such are +my recollections of the quarter I most frequented. + +Are the English taller, stouter, lustier, ruddier, healthier, than our +New England people? If I gave my impression, I should say that they are. +Among the wealthier class, tall, athletic-looking men and stately, +well-developed women are more common, I am compelled to think, than with +us. I met in company at different times five gentlemen, each of whom +would be conspicuous in any crowd for his stature and proportions. We +could match their proportions, however, in the persons of well-known +Bostonians. To see how it was with other classes, I walked in the Strand +one Sunday, and noted carefully the men and women I met. I was surprised +to see how many of both sexes were of low stature. I counted in the +course of a few minutes' walk no less than twenty of these little +people. I set this experience against the other. Neither is convincing. +The anthropologists will settle the question of man in the Old and in +the New World before many decades have passed. + +In walking the fashionable streets of London one can hardly fail to be +struck with the well-dressed look of gentlemen of all ages. The special +point in which the Londoner excels all other citizens I am conversant +with is the hat. I have not forgotten Béranger's + + "_Quoique leurs chapeaux soient bien laids_ + *** ***! moi, j'aime les Anglais;" + +but in spite of it I believe in the English hat as the best thing of its +ugly kind. As for the Englishman's feeling with reference to it, a +foreigner might be pardoned for thinking it was his fetich, a North +American Indian for looking at it as taking the place of his own +medicine-bag. It is a common thing for the Englishman to say his prayers +into it, as he sits down in his pew. Can it be that this imparts a +religious character to the article? However this may be, the true +Londoner's hat is cared for as reverentially as a High-Church altar. Far +off its coming shines. I was always impressed by the fact that even with +us a well-bred gentleman in reduced circumstances never forgets to keep +his beaver well brushed, and I remember that long ago I spoke of the hat +as the _ultimum moriens_ of what we used to call gentility,--the +last thing to perish in the decay of a gentleman's outfit. His hat is as +sacred to an Englishman as his beard to a Mussulman. + + * * * * * + +In looking at the churches and the monuments which I saw in London and +elsewhere in England, certain resemblances, comparisons, parallels, +contrasts, and suggestions obtruded themselves upon my consciousness. We +have one steeple in Boston which to my eyes seems absolutely perfect: +that of the Central Church, at the corner of Newbury and Berkeley +streets. Its resemblance to the spire of Salisbury had always struck me. +On mentioning this to the late Mr. Richardson, the very distinguished +architect, he said to me that he thought it more nearly like that of the +Cathedral of Chartres. One of our best living architects agreed with me +as to its similarity to that of Salisbury. It does not copy either +exactly, but, if it had twice its actual dimensions, would compare well +with the best of the two, if one is better than the other. +Saint-Martin's-in-the-Fields made me feel as if I were in Boston. Our +Arlington Street Church copies it pretty closely, but Mr. Gilman left +out the columns. I could not admire the Nelson Column, nor that which +lends monumental distinction to the Duke of York. After Trajan's and +that of the Place Vendôme, each of which is a permanent and precious +historical record, accounting sufficiently for its existence, there is +something very unsatisfactory in these nude cylinders. That to the Duke +of York might well have the confession of the needy knife grinder as an +inscription on its base. I confess in all honesty that I vastly prefer +the monument commemorating the fire to either of them. That _has_ a +story to tell and tells it,--with a lie or two added, according to Pope, +but it tells it in language and symbol. + +As for the kind of monument such as I see from my library window +standing on the summit of Bunker Hill, and have recently seen for the +first time at Washington, on a larger scale, I own that I think a +built-up obelisk a poor affair as compared with an Egyptian monolith of +the same form. It was a triumph of skill to quarry, to shape, to +transport, to cover with expressive symbols, to erect, such a stone as +that which has been transferred to the Thames Embankment, or that which +now stands in Central Park, New York. Each of its four sides is a page +of history, written so as to endure through scores of centuries. A +built-up obelisk requires very little more than brute labor. A child can +shape its model from a carrot or a parsnip, and set it up in miniature +with blocks of loaf sugar. It teaches nothing, and the stranger must go +to his guide-book to know what it is there for. I was led into many +reflections by a sight of the Washington Monument. I found that it was +almost the same thing at a mile's distance as the Bunker Hill Monument +at half a mile's distance; and unless the eye had some means of +measuring the space between itself and the stone shaft, one was about as +good as the other. A mound like that of Marathon or that at Waterloo, a +cairn, even a shaft of the most durable form and material, are fit +memorials of the place where a great battle was fought. They seem less +appropriate as monuments to individuals. I doubt the durability of these +piecemeal obelisks, and when I think of that vast inverted pendulum +vibrating in an earthquake, I am glad that I do not live in its shadow. +The Washington Monument is more than a hundred feet higher than +Salisbury steeple, but it does not look to me so high as that, because +the mind has nothing to climb by. But the forming taste of the country +revels in superlatives, and if we could only have the deepest artesian +well in the world sunk by the side of the tallest column in all +creation, the admiring, not overcritical patriot would be happier than +ever was the Athenian when he looked up at the newly erected Parthenon. + +I made a few miscellaneous observations which may be worth recording. +One of these was the fact of the repetition of the types of men and +women with which I was familiar at home. Every now and then I met a new +acquaintance whom I felt that I had seen before. Presently I identified +him with his double on the other side. I had found long ago that even +among Frenchmen I often fell in with persons whose counterparts I had +known in America. I began to feel as if Nature turned out a batch of +human beings for every locality of any importance, very much as a +workman makes a set of chessmen. If I had lived a little longer in +London, I am confident that I should have met myself, as I did actually +meet so many others who were duplicates of those long known to me. + +I met Mr. Galton for a few moments, but I had no long conversation with +him. If he should ask me to say how many faces I can visually recall, I +should have to own that there are very few such. The two pictures which +I have already referred to, those of Erasmus and of Dr. Johnson, come up +more distinctly before my mind's eye than almost any faces of the +living. My mental retina has, I fear, lost much of its sensitiveness. +Long and repeated exposure of an object of any kind, in a strong light, +is necessary to fix its image. + + * * * * * + +Among the gratifications that awaited me in England and Scotland was +that of meeting many before unseen friends with whom I had been in +correspondence. I have spoken of Mr. John Bellows. I should have been +glad to meet Mr. William Smith, the Yorkshire antiquary, who has sent me +many of his antiquarian and biographical writings and publications. I do +not think I saw Mr. David Gilmour, of Paisley, whose "Paisley Folk" and +other writings have given me great pleasure. But I did have the +satisfaction of meeting Professor Gairdner, of Glasgow, to whose +writings my attention was first called by my revered instructor, the +late Dr. James Jackson, and with whom I had occasionally corresponded. I +ought to have met Dr. Martineau. I should have visited the Reverend +Stopford Brooke, who could have told me much that I should have liked to +hear of dear friends of mine, of whom he saw a great deal in their hours +of trial. The Reverend Mr. Voysey, whose fearless rationalism can hardly +give him popularity among the conservative people I saw most of, paid me +the compliment of calling, as he had often done of sending me his +published papers. Now and then some less known correspondent would +reveal himself or herself in bodily presence. Let most authors beware of +showing themselves to those who have idealized them, and let readers not +be too anxious to see in the flesh those whom they have idealized. When +I was a boy, I read Miss Edgeworth's "L'Amie Inconnue." I have learned +to appreciate its meaning in later years by abundant experiences, and I +have often felt unwilling to substitute my real for my imaginary +presence. I will add here that I must have met a considerable number of +persons, in the crowd at our reception and elsewhere, whose names I +failed to hear, and whom I consequently did not recognize as the authors +of books I had read, or of letters I had received. The story of my +experience with the lark accounts for a good deal of what seemed like +negligence or forgetfulness, and which must be, not pardoned, but sighed +over. + +I visited several of the well-known clubs, either by special invitation, +or accompanied by a member. The Athenaeum was particularly attentive, +but I was unable to avail myself of the privileges it laid freely open +before me during my stay in London. Other clubs I looked in upon were: +the Reform Club, where I had the pleasure of dining at a large party +given by the very distinguished Dr. Morell Mackenzie; the Rabelais, of +which, as I before related, I have been long a member, and which was one +of the first places where I dined; the Saville; the Savage; the St. +George's. I saw next to nothing of the proper club-life of London, but +it seemed to me that the Athenaeum must be a very desirable place of +resort to the educated Londoner, and no doubt each of the many +institutions of this kind with which London abounds has its special +attractions. + +My obligations to my brethren of the medical profession are too numerous +to be mentioned in detail. Almost the first visit I paid was one to my +old friend and fellow-student in Paris, Dr. Walter Hayle Walshe. After +more than half a century's separation, two young friends, now old +friends, must not expect to find each other just the same as when they +parted. Dr. Walshe thought he should have known me; my eyes are not so +good as his, and I would not answer for them and for my memory. That he +should have dedicated his recent original and ingenious work to me, +before I had thought of visiting England, was a most gratifying +circumstance. I have mentioned the hospitalities extended to me by +various distinguished members of the medical profession, but I have not +before referred to the readiness with which, on all occasions, when +professional advice was needed, it was always given with more than +willingness, rather as if it were a pleasure to give it. I could not +have accepted such favors as I received had I not remembered that I, in +my time, had given my services freely for the benefit of those of my own +calling. If I refer to two names among many, it is for special reasons. +Dr. Wilson Fox, the distinguished and widely known practitioner, who +showed us great kindness, has since died, and this passing tribute is +due to his memory. I have before spoken of the exceptional favor we owed +to Dr. and Mrs. Priestley. It enabled us to leave London feeling that we +had tried, at least, to show our grateful sense of all the attentions +bestowed upon us. If there were any whom we overlooked, among the guests +we wished to honor, all such accidental omissions will be pardoned, I +feel sure, by those who know how great and bewildering is the pressure +of social life in London. + +I was, no doubt, often more or less confused, in my perceptions, by the +large number of persons whom I met in society. I found the +dinner-parties, as Mr. Lowell told me I should, very much like the same +entertainments among my home acquaintances. I have not the gift of +silence, and I am not a bad listener, yet I brought away next to nothing +from dinner-parties where I had said and heard enough to fill out a +magazine article. After I was introduced to a lady, the conversation +frequently began somewhat in this way:-- + +"It is a long time since you have been in this country, I believe?" + +"It is a _very_ long time: fifty years and more." + +"You find great changes in London, of course, I suppose?" + +"Not so great as you might think. The Tower is where I left it. The +Abbey is much as I remember it. Northumberland House with its lion is +gone, but Charing Cross is in the same old place. My attention is drawn +especially to the things which have not changed,--those which I +remember." + +That stream was quickly dried up. Conversation soon found other springs. +I never knew the talk to get heated or noisy. Religion and politics +rarely came up, and never in any controversial way. The bitterest +politician I met at table was a quadruped,--a lady's dog,--who refused a +desirable morsel offered him in the name of Mr. Gladstone, but snapped +up another instantly on being told that it came from Queen Victoria. I +recall many pleasant and some delightful talks at the dinner-table; one +in particular, with the most charming woman in England. I wonder if she +remembers how very lovely and agreeable she was? Possibly she may be +able to identify herself. + +People--the right kind of people--meet at a dinner-party as two ships +meet and pass each other at sea. They exchange a few signals; ask each +other's reckoning, where from, where bound; perhaps one supplies the +other with a little food or a few dainties; then they part, to see each +other no more. But one or both may remember the hour passed together all +their days, just as I recollect our brief parley with the brig +Economist, of Leith, from Sierra Leone, in mid ocean, in the spring of +1833. + +I am very far from despising the science of gastronomy, but if I wished +to institute a comparison between the tables of England and America, I +could not do it without eating my way through the four seasons. I will +say that I did not think the bread from the bakers' shops was so good as +our own. It was very generally tough and hard, and even the muffins were +not always so tender and delicate as they ought to be. I got impatient +one day, and sent out for some biscuits. They brought some very +excellent ones, which we much preferred to the tough bread. They proved +to be the so-called "seafoam" biscuit from New York. The potatoes never +came on the table looking like new fallen snow, as we have them at home. +We were surprised to find both mutton and beef overdone, according to +our American taste. The French talk about the Briton's "_bifteck +saignant_," but we never saw anything cooked so as to be, as we +should say, "rare." The tart is national with the English, as the pie is +national with us. I never saw on an English table that excellent +substitute for both, called the Washington pie, in memory of him whom we +honor as first in pies, as well as in war and in the hearts of his +countrymen. + +The truth is that I gave very little thought to the things set before +me, in the excitement of constantly changing agreeable companionship. I +understand perfectly the feeling of the good liver in Punch, who +suggests to the lady next him that their host has one of the best cooks +in London, and that it might therefore be well to defer all conversation +until they adjourned to the drawing-room. I preferred the conversation, +and adjourned, indefinitely, the careful appreciation of the +_menu_. I think if I could devote a year to it, I might be able to +make out a graduated scale of articles of food, taking a well-boiled +fresh egg as the unit of gastronomic value, but I leave this scientific +task to some future observer. + +The most remarkable piece of European handiwork I remember was the steel +chair at Longford Castle. The most startling and frightful work of man I +ever saw or expect to see was another specimen of work in steel, said to +have been taken from one of the infernal chambers of the Spanish +Inquisition. It was a complex mechanism, which grasped the body and the +head of the heretic or other victim, and by means of many ingeniously +arranged screws and levers was capable of pressing, stretching, +piercing, rending, crushing, all the most sensitive portions of the +human body, one at a time or many at once. The famous Virgin, whose +embrace drove a hundred knives into the body of the poor wretch she took +in her arms, was an angel of mercy compared to this masterpiece of +devilish enginery. + +Ingenuity is much better shown in contrivances for making our daily life +more comfortable. I was on the lookout for everything that promised to +be a convenience. I carried out two things which seemed to be new to the +Londoners: the Star Razor, which I have praised so freely, and still +find equal to all my commendations; and the mucilage pencil, which is a +very handy implement to keep on the writer's desk or table. I found a +contrivance for protecting the hand in drawing corks, which all who are +their own butlers will appreciate, and luminous match-boxes which really +shine brightly in the dark, and that after a year's usage; whereas one +professing to shine by night, which I bought in Boston, is only visible +by borrowed light. I wanted a very fine-grained hone, and inquired for +it at a hardware store, where they kept everything in their line of the +best quality. I brought away a very pretty but very small stone, for +which I paid a large price. The stone was from Arkansas, and I need not +have bought in London what would have been easily obtained at a dozen or +more stores in Boston. It was a renewal of my experience with the +seafoam biscuit. "Know thyself" and the things about thee, and "Take the +good the gods provide thee," if thou wilt only keep thine eyes open, are +two safe precepts. + +Who is there of English descent among us that does not feel with Cowper, + + "England, with all thy faults, I love thee still"? + +Our recently naturalized fellow-citizens, of a different blood and +different religion, must not suppose that we are going to forget our +inborn love for the mother to whom we owe our being. Protestant England +and Protestant America are coming nearer and nearer to each other every +year. The interchange of the two peoples is more and more frequent, and +there are many reasons why it is likely to continue increasing. + +Hawthorne says in a letter to Longfellow, "Why don't you come over, +being now a man of leisure and with nothing to keep you in America? If I +were in your position, I think I should make my home on this side of the +water,--though always with an indefinite and never-to-be-executed +intention to go back and die in my native land. America is a good land +for young people, but not for those who are past their prime. ... A man +of individuality and refinement can certainly live far more comfortably +here--provided he has the means to live at all--than in New England. Be +it owned, however, that I sometimes feel a tug at my very heart-strings +when I think of my old home and friends." This was written from +Liverpool in 1854. + +We must not forget that our fathers were exiles from their dearly loved +native land, driven by causes which no longer exist. "Freedom to worship +God" is found in England as fully as in America, in our day. In placing +the Atlantic between themselves and the Old World civilizations they +made an enormous sacrifice. It is true that the wonderful advance of our +people in all the arts and accomplishments which make life agreeable has +transformed the wilderness into a home where men and women can live +comfortably, elegantly, happily, if they are of contented disposition; +and without that they can be happy nowhere. What better provision can be +made for a mortal man than such as our own Boston can afford its wealthy +children? A palace on Commonwealth Avenue or on Beacon Street; a +country-place at Framingham or Lenox; a seaside residence at Nahant, +Beverly Farms, Newport, or Bar Harbor; a pew at Trinity or King's +Chapel; a tomb at Mount Auburn or Forest Hills; with the prospect of a +memorial stained window after his lamented demise,--is not this a pretty +programme to offer a candidate for human existence? + +Give him all these advantages, and he will still be longing to cross the +water, to get back to that old home of his fathers, so delightful in +itself, so infinitely desirable on account of its nearness to Paris, to +Geneva, to Rome, to all that is most interesting in Europe. The less +wealthy, less cultivated, less fastidious class of Americans are not so +much haunted by these longings. But the convenience of living in the Old +World is so great, and it is such a trial and such a risk to keep +crossing the ocean, that it seems altogether likely that a considerable +current of re-migration will gradually develop itself among our people. + +Some find the climate of the other side of the Atlantic suits them +better than their own. As the New England characteristics are gradually +superseded by those of other races, other forms of belief, and other +associations, the time may come when a New Englander will feel more as +if he were among his own people in London than in one of our seaboard +cities. The vast majority of our people love their country too well and +are too proud of it to be willing to expatriate themselves. But going +back to our old home, to find ourselves among the relatives from whom we +have been separated for a few generations, is not like transferring +ourselves to a land where another language is spoken, and where there +are no ties of blood and no common religious or political traditions. I, +for one, being myself as inveterately rooted an American of the +Bostonian variety as ever saw himself mirrored in the Frog Pond, hope +that the exchanges of emigrants and re-migrants will be much more evenly +balanced by and by than at present. I hope that more Englishmen like +James Smithson will help to build up our scientific and literary +institutions. I hope that more Americans like George Peabody will call +down the blessings of the English people by noble benefactions to the +cause of charity. It was with deep feelings of pride and gratitude that +I looked upon the bust of Longfellow, holding its place among the +monuments of England's greatest and best children. I see with equal +pleasure and pride that one of our own large-hearted countrymen has +honored the memory of three English poets, Milton, and Herbert, and +Cowper, by the gift of two beautiful stained windows, and with still +ampler munificence is erecting a stately fountain in the birthplace of +Shakespeare. Such acts as these make us feel more and more the truth of +the generous sentiment which closes the ode of Washington Allston, +"America to Great Britain:" We are one! + + * * * * * + +I have told our story with the help of my daughter's diary, and often +aided by her recollections. Having enjoyed so much, I am desirous that +my countrymen and countrywomen should share my good fortune with me. I +hesitated at first about printing names in full, but when I remembered +that we received nothing but the most overflowing hospitality and the +most considerate kindness from all we met, I felt sure that I could not +offend by telling my readers who the friends were that made England a +second home to us. If any one of them is disturbed by such reference as +I have made to him or to her, I most sincerely apologize for the liberty +I have taken. I am far more afraid that through sheer forgetfulness I +have left unmentioned many to whom I was and still remain under +obligations. + +If I were asked what I think of people's travelling after the commonly +accepted natural term of life is completed, I should say that everything +depends on constitution and habit. The old soldier says, in speaking of +crossing the Beresina, where the men had to work in the freezing stream +constructing the bridges, "Faut du tempérament pour cela!" I often +thought of this expression, in the damp and chilly weather which not +rarely makes English people wish they were in Italy. I escaped unharmed +from the windy gusts at Epsom and the nipping chill of the Kensington +garden-party; but if a score of my contemporaries had been there with +me, there would not improbably have been a funeral or two within a week. +If, however, the super-septuagenarian is used to exposures, if he is an +old sportsman or an old officer not retired from active service, he may +expect to elude the pneumonia which follows his footsteps whenever he +wanders far from his fireside. But to a person of well-advanced years +coming from a counting-room, a library, or a studio, the risk is +considerable, unless he is of hardy natural constitution; any other will +do well to remember, "Faut du tempérament pour cela!" + +Suppose there to be a reasonable chance that he will come home alive, +what is the use of one's going to Europe after his senses have lost +their acuteness, and his mind no longer retains its full measure of +sensibilities and vigor? I should say that the visit to Europe under +those circumstances was much the same thing as the _petit +verre_,--the little glass of Chartreuse, or Maraschino, or Curaçoa, +or, if you will, of plain Cognac, at the end of a long banquet. One has +gone through many courses, which repose in the safe recesses of his +economy. He has swallowed his coffee, and still there is a little corner +left with its craving unappeased. Then comes the drop of liqueur, +_chasse-café_, which is the last thing the stomach has a right to +expect. It warms, it comforts, it exhales its benediction on all that +has gone before. So the trip to Europe may not do much in the way of +instructing the wearied and overloaded intelligence, but it gives it a +fillip which makes it feel young again for a little while. + +Let not the too mature traveller think it will change any of his habits. +It will interrupt his routine for a while, and then he will settle down +into his former self, and be just what he was before. I brought home a +pair of shoes I had made in London; they do not fit like those I had +before I left, and I rarely wear them. It is just so with the new habits +I formed and the old ones I left behind me. + +But am I not glad, for my own sake, that I went? Certainly I have every +reason to be, and I feel that the visit is likely to be a great source +of happiness for my remaining days. But there is a higher source of +satisfaction. If the kindness shown me strengthens the slenderest link +that binds us in affection to that ancestral country which is, and I +trust will always be to her descendants, "dear Mother England," that +alone justifies my record of it, and to think it is so is more than +reward enough. If, in addition, this account of our summer experiences +is a source of pleasure to many friends, and of pain to no one, as I +trust will prove to be the fact, I hope I need never regret giving to +the public the pages which are meant more especially for readers who +have a personal interest in the writer. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Complete PG Works of Oliver +Wendell Holmes, Sr., by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. (The Physician and Poet not the Jurist) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PG WORKS OF O.W. HOLMES *** + +***** This file should be named 3252-8.txt or 3252-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/3/2/5/3252/ + +Produced by David Widger and Several Other Project Gutenberg Volunteers + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.net + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/homer.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/homer.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf9060c --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/homer.txt @@ -0,0 +1,26176 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Iliad of Homer by Homer + + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no +restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under +the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or +online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license + + + +Title: The Iliad of Homer + +Author: Homer + +Release Date: September 2006 [Ebook #6130] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ILIAD OF HOMER*** + + + + + +The Iliad of Homer + + +Translated by Alexander Pope, + +with notes by the +Rev. Theodore Alois Buckley, M.A., F.S.A. + +and + +Flaxman's Designs. + +1899 + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +INTRODUCTION. +POPE'S PREFACE TO THE ILIAD OF HOMER +BOOK I. +BOOK II. +BOOK III. +BOOK IV. +BOOK V. +BOOK VI. +BOOK VII. +BOOK VIII. +BOOK IX. +BOOK X. +BOOK XI. +BOOK XII. +BOOK XIII. +BOOK XIV. +BOOK XV. +BOOK XVI. +BOOK XVII. +BOOK XVIII. +BOOK XIX. +BOOK XX. +BOOK XXI. +BOOK XXII. +BOOK XXIII. +BOOK XXIV. +CONCLUDING NOTE. + + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +HOMER INVOKING THE MUSE. +MARS. +MINERVA REPRESSING THE FURY OF ACHILLES. +THE DEPARTURE OF BRISEIS FROM THE TENT OF ACHILLES. +THETIS CALLING BRIAREUS TO THE ASSISTANCE OF JUPITER. +THETIS ENTREATING JUPITER TO HONOUR ACHILLES. +VULCAN. +JUPITER. +THE APOTHEOSIS OF HOMER. +JUPITER SENDING THE EVIL DREAM TO AGAMEMNON. +NEPTUNE. +VENUS, DISGUISED, INVITING HELEN TO THE CHAMBER OF PARIS. +VENUS PRESENTING HELEN TO PARIS. +VENUS. +Map, titled "Graeciae Antiquae". +THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS. +Map of the Plain of Troy. +VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND, CONDUCTED BY IRIS TO MARS. +OTUS AND EPHIALTES HOLDING MARS CAPTIVE. +DIOMED CASTING HIS SPEAR AT MARS. +JUNO. +HECTOR CHIDING PARIS. +THE MEETING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. +BOWS AND BOW CASE. +IRIS. +HECTOR AND AJAX SEPARATED BY THE HERALDS. +GREEK AMPHORA--WINE VESSELS. +JUNO AND MINERVA GOING TO ASSIST THE GREEKS. +THE HOURS TAKING THE HORSES FROM JUNO'S CAR. +THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES. +PLUTO. +THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES. +GREEK GALLEY. +PROSERPINE. +ACHILLES. +DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS. +THE DESCENT OF DISCORD. +HERCULES. +POLYDAMAS ADVISING HECTOR. +GREEK ALTAR. +NEPTUNE RISING FROM THE SEA. +GREEK EARRINGS. +SLEEP ESCAPING FROM THE WRATH OF JUPITER. +GREEK SHIELD. +BACCHUS. +AJAX DEFENDING THE GREEK SHIPS. +CASTOR AND POLLUX. +Buckles. +DIANA. +SLEEP AND DEATH CONVEYING THE BODY OF SARPEDON TO LYCIA. +AESCULAPIUS. +FIGHT FOR THE BODY OF PATROCLUS. +VULCAN FROM AN ANTIQUE GEM. +THETIS ORDERING THE NEREIDS TO DESCEND INTO THE SEA. +JUNO COMMANDING THE SUN TO SET. +TRIPOD. +THETIS AND EURYNOME RECEIVING THE INFANT VULCAN. +VULCAN AND CHARIS RECEIVING THETIS. +THETIS BRINGING THE ARMOUR TO ACHILLES. +HERCULES. +THE GODS DESCENDING TO BATTLE. +CENTAUR. +ACHILLES CONTENDING WITH THE RIVERS. +THE BATH. +ANDROMACHE FAINTING ON THE WALL. +THE FUNERAL PILE OF PATROCLUS. +CERES. +HECTOR'S BODY AT THE CAR OF ACHILLES. +THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS. +IRIS ADVISES PRIAM TO OBTAIN THE BODY OF HECTOR. +FUNERAL OF HECTOR. + + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +Scepticism is as much the result of knowledge, as knowledge is of +scepticism. To be content with what we at present know, is, for the most +part, to shut our ears against conviction; since, from the very gradual +character of our education, we must continually forget, and emancipate +ourselves from, knowledge previously acquired; we must set aside old +notions and embrace fresh ones; and, as we learn, we must be daily +unlearning something which it has cost us no small labour and anxiety to +acquire. + +And this difficulty attaches itself more closely to an age in which +progress has gained a strong ascendency over prejudice, and in which +persons and things are, day by day, finding their real level, in lieu of +their conventional value. The same principles which have swept away +traditional abuses, and which are making rapid havoc among the revenues of +sinecurists, and stripping the thin, tawdry veil from attractive +superstitions, are working as actively in literature as in society. The +credulity of one writer, or the partiality of another, finds as powerful a +touchstone and as wholesome a chastisement in the healthy scepticism of a +temperate class of antagonists, as the dreams of conservatism, or the +impostures of pluralist sinecures in the Church. History and tradition, +whether of ancient or comparatively recent times, are subjected to very +different handling from that which the indulgence or credulity of former +ages could allow. Mere statements are jealously watched, and the motives +of the writer form as important an ingredient in the analysis of his +history, as the facts he records. Probability is a powerful and +troublesome test; and it is by this troublesome standard that a large +portion of historical evidence is sifted. Consistency is no less +pertinacious and exacting in its demands. In brief, to write a history, we +must know more than mere facts. Human nature, viewed under an induction of +extended experience, is the best help to the criticism of human history. +Historical characters can only be estimated by the standard which human +experience, whether actual or traditionary, has furnished. To form correct +views of individuals we must regard them as forming parts of a great +whole--we must measure them by their relation to the mass of beings by whom +they are surrounded, and, in contemplating the incidents in their lives or +condition which tradition has handed down to us, we must rather consider +the general bearing of the whole narrative, than the respective +probability of its details. + +It is unfortunate for us, that, of some of the greatest men, we know +least, and talk most. Homer, Socrates, and Shakespere(1) have, perhaps, +contributed more to the intellectual enlightenment of mankind than any +other three writers who could be named, and yet the history of all three +has given rise to a boundless ocean of discussion, which has left us +little save the option of choosing which theory or theories we will +follow. The personality of Shakespere is, perhaps, the only thing in which +critics will allow us to believe without controversy; but upon everything +else, even down to the authorship of plays, there is more or less of doubt +and uncertainty. Of Socrates we know as little as the contradictions of +Plato and Xenophon will allow us to know. He was one of the _dramatis +personae_ in two dramas as unlike in principles as in style. He appears as +the enunciator of opinions as different in their tone as those of the +writers who have handed them down. When we have read Plato _or_ Xenophon, +we think we know something of Socrates; when we have fairly read and +examined both, we feel convinced that we are something worse than +ignorant. + +It has been an easy, and a popular expedient, of late years, to deny the +personal or real existence of men and things whose life and condition were +too much for our belief. This system--which has often comforted the +religious sceptic, and substituted the consolations of Strauss for those +of the New Testament--has been of incalculable value to the historical +theorists of the last and present centuries. To question the existence of +Alexander the Great, would be a more excusable act, than to believe in +that of Romulus. To deny a fact related in Herodotus, because it is +inconsistent with a theory developed from an Assyrian inscription which no +two scholars read in the same way, is more pardonable, than to believe in +the good-natured old king whom the elegant pen of Florian has +idealized--_Numa Pompilius._ + +Scepticism has attained its culminating point with respect to Homer, and +the state of our Homeric knowledge may be described as a free permission +to believe any theory, provided we throw overboard all written tradition, +concerning the author or authors of the Iliad and Odyssey. What few +authorities exist on the subject, are summarily dismissed, although the +arguments appear to run in a circle. "This cannot be true, because it is +not true; and, that is not true, because it cannot be true." Such seems to +be the style, in which testimony upon testimony, statement upon statement, +is consigned to denial and oblivion. + +It is, however, unfortunate that the professed biographies of Homer are +partly forgeries, partly freaks of ingenuity and imagination, in which +truth is the requisite most wanting. Before taking a brief review of the +Homeric theory in its present conditions, some notice must be taken of the +treatise on the Life of Homer which has been attributed to Herodotus. + +According to this document, the city of Cumae in AEolia, was, at an early +period, the seat of frequent immigrations from various parts of Greece. +Among the immigrants was Menapolus, the son of Ithagenes. Although poor, +he married, and the result of the union was a girl named Critheis. The +girl was left an orphan at an early age, under the guardianship of +Cleanax, of Argos. It is to the indiscretion of this maiden that we "are +indebted for so much happiness." Homer was the first fruit of her juvenile +frailty, and received the name of Melesigenes, from having been born near +the river Meles, in Boeotia, whither Critheis had been transported in +order to save her reputation. + +"At this time," continues our narrative, "there lived at Smyrna a man +named Phemius, a teacher of literature and music, who, not being married, +engaged Critheis to manage his household, and spin the flax he received as +the price of his scholastic labours. So satisfactory was her performance +of this task, and so modest her conduct, that he made proposals of +marriage, declaring himself, as a further inducement, willing to adopt her +son, who, he asserted, would become a clever man, if he were carefully +brought up." + +They were married; careful cultivation ripened the talents which nature +had bestowed, and Melesigenes soon surpassed his schoolfellows in every +attainment, and, when older, rivalled his preceptor in wisdom. Phemius +died, leaving him sole heir to his property, and his mother soon followed. +Melesigenes carried on his adopted father's school with great success, +exciting the admiration not only of the inhabitants of Smyrna, but also of +the strangers whom the trade carried on there, especially in the +exportation of corn, attracted to that city. Among these visitors, one +Mentes, from Leucadia, the modern Santa Maura, who evinced a knowledge and +intelligence rarely found in those times, persuaded Melesigenes to close +his school, and accompany him on his travels. He promised not only to pay +his expenses, but to furnish him with a further stipend, urging, that, +"While he was yet young, it was fitting that he should see with his own +eyes the countries and cities which might hereafter be the subjects of his +discourses." Melesigenes consented, and set out with his patron, +"examining all the curiosities of the countries they visited, and +informing himself of everything by interrogating those whom he met." We +may also suppose, that he wrote memoirs of all that he deemed worthy of +preservation(2) Having set sail from Tyrrhenia and Iberia, they reached +Ithaca. Here Melesigenes, who had already suffered in his eyes, became +much worse, and Mentes, who was about to leave for Leucadia, left him to +the medical superintendence of a friend of his, named Mentor, the son of +Alcinor. Under his hospitable and intelligent host, Melesigenes rapidly +became acquainted with the legends respecting Ulysses, which afterwards +formed the subject of the Odyssey. The inhabitants of Ithaca assert, that +it was here that Melesigenes became blind, but the Colophomans make their +city the seat of that misfortune. He then returned to Smyrna, where he +applied himself to the study of poetry.(3) + +But poverty soon drove him to Cumae. Having passed over the Hermaean +plain, he arrived at Neon Teichos, the New Wall, a colony of Cumae. Here +his misfortunes and poetical talent gained him the friendship of one +Tychias, an armourer. "And up to my time," continued the author, "the +inhabitants showed the place where he used to sit when giving a recitation +of his verses, and they greatly honoured the spot. Here also a poplar +grew, which they said had sprung up ever since Melesigenes arrived".(4) + +But poverty still drove him on, and he went by way of Larissa, as being +the most convenient road. Here, the Cumans say, he composed an epitaph on +Gordius, king of Phrygia, which has however, and with greater probability, +been attributed to Cleobulus of Lindus.(5) + +Arrived at Cumae, he frequented the _converzationes_(6) of the old men, +and delighted all by the charms of his poetry. Encouraged by this +favourable reception, he declared that, if they would allow him a public +maintenance, he would render their city most gloriously renowned. They +avowed their willingness to support him in the measure he proposed, and +procured him an audience in the council. Having made the speech, with the +purport of which our author has forgotten to acquaint us, he retired, and +left them to debate respecting the answer to be given to his proposal. + +The greater part of the assembly seemed favourable to the poet's demand, +but one man observed that "if they were to feed _Homers,_ they would be +encumbered with a multitude of useless people." "From this circumstance," +says the writer, "Melesigenes acquired the name of Homer, for the Cumans +call blind men _Homers._"(7) With a love of economy, which shows how +similar the world has always been in its treatment of literary men, the +pension was denied, and the poet vented his disappointment in a wish that +Cumoea might never produce a poet capable of giving it renown and glory. + +At Phocoea, Homer was destined to experience another literary distress. +One Thestorides, who aimed at the reputation of poetical genius, kept +Homer in his own house, and allowed him a pittance, on condition of the +verses of the poet passing in his name. Having collected sufficient poetry +to be profitable, Thestorides, like some would-be-literary publishers, +neglected the man whose brains he had sucked, and left him. At his +departure, Homer is said to have observed: "O Thestorides, of the many +things hidden from the knowledge of man, nothing is more unintelligible +than the human heart."(8) + +Homer continued his career of difficulty and distress, until some Chian +merchants, struck by the similarity of the verses they heard him recite, +acquainted him with the fact that Thestorides was pursuing a profitable +livelihood by the recital of the very same poems. This at once determined +him to set out for Chios. No vessel happened then to be setting sail +thither, but he found one ready to Start for Erythrae, a town of Ionia, +which faces that island, and he prevailed upon the seamen to allow him to +accompany them. Having embarked, he invoked a favourable wind, and prayed +that he might be able to expose the imposture of Thestorides, who, by his +breach of hospitality, had drawn down the wrath of Jove the Hospitable. + +At Erythrae, Homer fortunately met with a person who had known him in +Phocoea, by whose assistance he at length, after some difficulty, reached +the little hamlet of Pithys. Here he met with an adventure, which we will +continue in the words of our author. "Having set out from Pithys, Homer +went on, attracted by the cries of some goats that were pasturing. The +dogs barked on his approach, and he cried out. Glaucus (for that was the +name of the goat-herd) heard his voice, ran up quickly, called off his +dogs, and drove them away from Homer. For or some time he stood wondering +how a blind man should have reached such a place alone, and what could be +his design in coming. He then went up to him, and inquired who he was, and +how he had come to desolate places and untrodden spots, and of what he +stood in need. Homer, by recounting to him the whole history of his +misfortunes, moved him with compassion; and he took him, and led him to +his cot, and having lit a fire, bade him sup.(9) + +"The dogs, instead of eating, kept barking at the stranger, according to +their usual habit. Whereupon Homer addressed Glaucus thus: O Glaucus, my +friend, prythee attend to my behest. First give the dogs their supper at +the doors of the hut: for so it is better, since, whilst they watch, nor +thief nor wild beast will approach the fold. + +Glaucus was pleased with the advice, and marvelled at its author. Having +finished supper, they banqueted(10) afresh on conversation, Homer +narrating his wanderings, and telling of the cities he had visited. + +At length they retired to rest; but on the following morning, Glaucus +resolved to go to his master, and acquaint him with his meeting with +Homer. Having left the goats in charge of a fellow-servant, he left Homer +at home, promising to return quickly. Having arrived at Bolissus, a place +near the farm, and finding his mate, he told him the whole story +respecting Homer and his journey. He paid little attention to what he +said, and blamed Glaucus for his stupidity in taking in and feeding maimed +and enfeebled persons. However, he bade him bring the stranger to him. + +Glaucus told Homer what had taken place, and bade him follow him, assuring +him that good fortune would be the result. Conversation soon showed that +the stranger was a man of much cleverness and general knowledge, and the +Chian persuaded him to remain, and to undertake the charge of his +children.(11) + +Besides the satisfaction of driving the impostor Thestorides from the +island, Homer enjoyed considerable success as a teacher. In the town of +Chios he established a school where he taught the precepts of poetry. "To +this day," says Chandler,(12) "the most curious remain is that which has +been named, without reason, the School of Homer. It is on the coast, at +some distance from the city, northward, and appears to have been an open +temple of Cybele, formed on the top of a rock. The shape is oval, and in +the centre is the image of the goddess, the head and an arm wanting. She +is represented, as usual, sitting. The chair has a lion carved on each +side, and on the back. The area is bounded by a low rim, or seat, and +about five yards over. The whole is hewn out of the mountain, is rude, +indistinct, and probably of the most remote antiquity." + +So successful was this school, that Homer realised a considerable fortune. +He married, and had two daughters, one of whom died single, the other +married a Chian. + +The following passage betrays the same tendency to connect the personages +of the poems with the history of the poet, which has already been +mentioned:-- + +"In his poetical compositions Homer displays great gratitude towards +Mentor of Ithaca, in the Odyssey, whose name he has inserted in his poem +as the companion of Ulysses,(13) in return for the care taken of him when +afflicted with blindness. He also testifies his gratitude to Phemius, who +had given him both sustenance and instruction." + +His celebrity continued to increase, and many persons advised him to visit +Greece, whither his reputation had now extended. Having, it is said, made +some additions to his poems calculated to please the vanity of the +Athenians, of whose city he had hitherto made no mention,(14) he sent out +for Samos. Here being recognized by a Samian, who had met with him in +Chios, he was handsomely received, and invited to join in celebrating the +Apaturian festival. He recited some verses, which gave great satisfaction, +and by singing the Eiresione at the New Moon festivals, he earned a +subsistence, visiting the houses of the rich, with whose children he was +very popular. + +In the spring he sailed for Athens, and arrived at the island of Ios, now +Ino, where he fell extremely ill, and died. It is said that his death +arose from vexation, at not having been able to unravel an enigma proposed +by some fishermen's children.(15) + +Such is, in brief, the substance of the earliest life of Homer we possess, +and so broad are the evidences of its historical worthlessness, that it is +scarcely necessary to point them out in detail. Let us now consider some +of the opinions to which a persevering, patient, and learned--but by no +means consistent--series of investigations has led. In doing so, I profess +to bring forward statements, not to vouch for their reasonableness or +probability. + +"Homer appeared. The history of this poet and his works is lost in +doubtful obscurity, as is the history of many of the first minds who have +done honour to humanity, because they rose amidst darkness. The majestic +stream of his song, blessing and fertilizing, flows like the Nile, through +many lands and nations; and, like the sources of the Nile, its fountains +will ever remain concealed." + +Such are the words in which one of the most judicious German critics has +eloquently described the uncertainty in which the whole of the Homeric +question is involved. With no less truth and feeling he proceeds:-- + +"It seems here of chief importance to expect no more than the nature of +things makes possible. If the period of tradition in history is the region +of twilight, we should not expect in it perfect light. The creations of +genius always seem like miracles, because they are, for the most part, +created far out of the reach of observation. If we were in possession of +all the historical testimonies, we never could wholly explain the origin +of the Iliad and the Odyssey; for their origin, in all essential points, +must have remained the secret of the poet." (16) + +From this criticism, which shows as much insight into the depths of human +nature as into the minute wire-drawings of scholastic investigation, let +us pass on to the main question at issue. Was Homer an individual?(17) or +were the Iliad and Odyssey the result of an ingenious arrangement of +fragments by earlier poets? + +Well has Landor remarked: "Some tell us there were twenty Homers; some +deny that there was ever one. It were idle and foolish to shake the +contents of a vase, in order to let them settle at last. We are +perpetually labouring to destroy our delights, our composure, our devotion +to superior power. Of all the animals on earth we least know what is good +for us. My opinion is, that what is best for us is our admiration of good. +No man living venerates Homer more than I do." (18) + +But, greatly as we admire the generous enthusiasm which rests contented +with the poetry on which its best impulses had been nurtured and fostered, +without seeking to destroy the vividness of first impressions by minute +analysis--our editorial office compels us to give some attention to the +doubts and difficulties with which the Homeric question is beset, and to +entreat our reader, for a brief period, to prefer his judgment to his +imagination, and to condescend to dry details. + +Before, however, entering into particulars respecting the question of this +unity of the Homeric poems, (at least of the Iliad,) I must express my +sympathy with the sentiments expressed in the following remarks:-- + +"We cannot but think the universal admiration of its unity by the better, +the poetic age of Greece, almost conclusive testimony to its original +composition. It was not till the age of the grammarians that its primitive +integrity was called in question; nor is it injustice to assert, that the +minute and analytical spirit of a grammarian is not the best qualification +for the profound feeling, the comprehensive conception of an harmonious +whole. The most exquisite anatomist may be no judge of the symmetry of the +human frame: and we would take the opinion of Chantrey or Westmacott on +the proportions and general beauty of a form, rather than that of Mr. +Brodie or Sir Astley Cooper. + +"There is some truth, though some malicious exaggeration, in the lines of +Pope.-- + + "'The critic eye--that microscope of wit + Sees hairs and pores, examines bit by bit, + How parts relate to parts, or they to whole + The body's harmony, the beaming soul, + Are things which Kuster, Burmann, Wasse, shall see, + When man's whole frame is obvious to a flea.'"(19) + +Long was the time which elapsed before any one dreamt of questioning the +unity of the authorship of the Homeric poems. The grave and cautious +Thucydides quoted without hesitation the Hymn to Apollo,(20) the +authenticity of which has been already disclaimed by modern critics. +Longinus, in an oft quoted passage, merely expressed an opinion touching +the comparative inferiority of the Odyssey to the Iliad,(21) and, among a +mass of ancient authors, whose very names(22) it would be tedious to +detail, no suspicion of the personal non-existence of Homer ever arose. So +far, the voice of antiquity seems to be in favour of our early ideas on +the subject; let us now see what are the discoveries to which more modern +investigations lay claim. + +At the end of the seventeenth century, doubts had begun to awaken on the +subject, and we find Bentley remarking that "Homer wrote a sequel of songs +and rhapsodies, to be sung by himself, for small comings and good cheer, +at festivals and other days of merriment. These loose songs were not +collected together, in the form of an epic poem, till about Peisistratus' +time, about five hundred years after."(23) + +Two French writers--Hedelin and Perrault--avowed a similar scepticism on the +subject; but it is in the "Scienza Nuova" of Battista Vico, that we first +meet with the germ of the theory, subsequently defended by Wolf with so +much learning and acuteness. Indeed, it is with the Wolfian theory that we +have chiefly to deal, and with the following bold hypothesis, which we +will detail in the words of Grote(24)-- + +"Half a century ago, the acute and valuable Prolegomena of F. A. Wolf, +turning to account the Venetian Scholia, which had then been recently +published, first opened philosophical discussion as to the history of the +Homeric text. A considerable part of that dissertation (though by no means +the whole) is employed in vindicating the position, previously announced +by Bentley, amongst others, that the separate constituent portions of the +Iliad and Odyssey had not been cemented together into any compact body and +unchangeable order, until the days of Peisistratus, in the sixth century +before Christ. As a step towards that conclusion, Wolf maintained that no +written copies of either poem could be shown to have existed during the +earlier times, to which their composition is referred; and that without +writing, neither the perfect symmetry of so complicated a work could have +been originally conceived by any poet, nor, if realized by him, +transmitted with assurance to posterity. The absence of easy and +convenient writing, such as must be indispensably supposed for long +manuscripts, among the early Greeks, was thus one of the points in Wolf's +case against the primitive integrity of the Iliad and Odyssey. By Nitzsch, +and other leading opponents of Wolf, the connection of the one with the +other seems to have been accepted as he originally put it; and it has been +considered incumbent on those who defended the ancient aggregate character +of the Iliad and Odyssey, to maintain that they were written poems from +the beginning. + +"To me it appears, that the architectonic functions ascribed by Wolf to +Peisistratus and his associates, in reference to the Homeric poems, are +nowise admissible. But much would undoubtedly be gained towards that view +of the question, if it could be shown, that, in order to controvert it, we +were driven to the necessity of admitting long written poems, in the ninth +century before the Christian aera. Few things, in my opinion, can be more +improbable; and Mr. Payne Knight, opposed as he is to the Wolfian +hypothesis, admits this no less than Wolf himself. The traces of writing +in Greece, even in the seventh century before the Christian aera, are +exceedingly trifling. We have no remaining inscription earlier than the +fortieth Olympiad, and the early inscriptions are rude and unskilfully +executed; nor can we even assure ourselves whether Archilochus, Simonides +of Amorgus, Kallinus, Tyrtaeus, Xanthus, and the other early elegiac and +lyric poets, committed their compositions to writing, or at what time the +practice of doing so became familiar. The first positive ground which +authorizes us to presume the existence of a manuscript of Homer, is in the +famous ordinance of Solon, with regard to the rhapsodies at the +Panathenaea: but for what length of time previously manuscripts had +existed, we are unable to say. + +"Those who maintain the Homeric poems to have been written from the +beginning, rest their case, not upon positive proofs, nor yet upon the +existing habits of society with regard to poetry--for they admit generally +that the Iliad and Odyssey were not read, but recited and heard,--but upon +the supposed necessity that there must have been manuscripts to ensure the +preservation of the poems--the unassisted memory of reciters being neither +sufficient nor trustworthy. But here we only escape a smaller difficulty +by running into a greater; for the existence of trained bards, gifted with +extraordinary memory, (25) is far less astonishing than that of long +manuscripts, in an age essentially non-reading and non-writing, and when +even suitable instruments and materials for the process are not obvious. +Moreover, there is a strong positive reason for believing that the bard +was under no necessity of refreshing his memory by consulting a +manuscript; for if such had been the fact, blindness would have been a +disqualification for the profession, which we know that it was not, as +well from the example of Demodokus, in the Odyssey, as from that of the +blind bard of Chios, in the Hymn to the Delian Apollo, whom Thucydides, as +well as the general tenor of Grecian legend, identifies with Homer +himself. The author of that hymn, be he who he may, could never have +described a blind man as attaining the utmost perfection in his art, if he +had been conscious that the memory of the bard was only maintained by +constant reference to the manuscript in his chest." + +The loss of the digamma, that _crux_ of critics, that quicksand upon which +even the acumen of Bentley was shipwrecked, seems to prove beyond a doubt, +that the pronunciation of the Greek language had undergone a considerable +change. Now it is certainly difficult to suppose that the Homeric poems +could have suffered by this change, had written copies been preserved. If +Chaucer's poetry, for instance, had not been written, it could only have +come down to us in a softened form, more like the effeminate version of +Dryden, than the rough, quaint, noble original. + +"At what period," continues Grote, "these poems, or indeed any other Greek +poems, first began to be written, must be matter of conjecture, though +there is ground for assurance that it was before the time of Solon. If, in +the absence of evidence, we may venture upon naming any more determinate +period, the question a once suggests itself, What were the purposes which, +in that state of society, a manuscript at its first commencement must have +been intended to answer? For whom was a written Iliad necessary? Not for +the rhapsodes; for with them it was not only planted in the memory, but +also interwoven with the feelings, and conceived in conjunction with all +those flexions and intonations of voice, pauses, and other oral artifices +which were required for emphatic delivery, and which the naked manuscript +could never reproduce. Not for the general public--they were accustomed to +receive it with its rhapsodic delivery, and with its accompaniments of a +solemn and crowded festival. The only persons for whom the written Iliad +would be suitable would be a select few; studious and curious men; a class +of readers capable of analyzing the complicated emotions which they had +experienced as hearers in the crowd, and who would, on perusing the +written words, realize in their imaginations a sensible portion of the +impression communicated by the reciter. Incredible as the statement may +seem in an age like the present, there is in all early societies, and +there was in early Greece, a time when no such reading class existed. If +we could discover at what time such a class first began to be formed, we +should be able to make a guess at the time when the old epic poems were +first committed to writing. Now the period which may with the greatest +probability be fixed upon as having first witnessed the formation even of +the narrowest reading class in Greece, is the middle of the seventh +century before the Christian aera (B.C. 660 to B.C. 630), the age of +Terpander, Kallinus, Archilochus, Simonides of Amorgus, &c. I ground this +supposition on the change then operated in the character and tendencies of +Grecian poetry and music--the elegiac and the iambic measures having been +introduced as rivals to the primitive hexameter, and poetical compositions +having been transferred from the epical past to the affairs of present and +real life. Such a change was important at a time when poetry was the only +known mode of publication (to use a modern phrase not altogether suitable, +yet the nearest approaching to the sense). It argued a new way of looking +at the old epical treasures of the people as well as a thirst for new +poetical effect; and the men who stood forward in it, may well be +considered as desirous to study, and competent to criticize, from their +own individual point of view, the written words of the Homeric rhapsodies, +just as we are told that Kallinus both noticed and eulogized the Thebais +as the production of Homer. There seems, therefore, ground for +conjecturing that (for the use of this newly-formed and important, but +very narrow class), manuscripts of the Homeric poems and other old +epics,--the Thebais and the Cypria, as well as the Iliad and the +Odyssey,--began to be compiled towards the middle of the seventh century +(B.C. 1); and the opening of Egypt to Grecian commerce, which took place +about the same period, would furnish increased facilities for obtaining +the requisite papyrus to write upon. A reading class, when once formed, +would doubtless slowly increase, and the number of manuscripts along with +it; so that before the time of Solon, fifty years afterwards, both readers +and manuscripts, though still comparatively few, might have attained a +certain recognized authority, and formed a tribunal of reference against +the carelessness of individual rhapsodes."(26) + +But even Peisistratus has not been suffered to remain in possession of the +credit, and we cannot help feeling the force of the following +observations-- + + + "There are several incidental circumstances which, in our opinion, + throw some suspicion over the whole history of the Peisistratid + compilation, at least over the theory, that the Iliad was cast + into its present stately and harmonious form by the directions of + the Athenian ruler. If the great poets, who flourished at the + bright period of Grecian song, of which, alas! we have inherited + little more than the fame, and the faint echo, if Stesichorus, + Anacreon, and Simonides were employed in the noble task of + compiling the Iliad and Odyssey, so much must have been done to + arrange, to connect, to harmonize, that it is almost incredible, + that stronger marks of Athenian manufacture should not remain. + Whatever occasional anomalies may be detected, anomalies which no + doubt arise out of our own ignorance of the language of the + Homeric age, however the irregular use of the digamma may have + perplexed our Bentleys, to whom the name of Helen is said to have + caused as much disquiet and distress as the fair one herself among + the heroes of her age, however Mr. Knight may have failed in + reducing the Homeric language to its primitive form; however, + finally, the Attic dialect may not have assumed all its more + marked and distinguishing characteristics--still it is difficult to + suppose that the language, particularly in the joinings and + transitions, and connecting parts, should not more clearly betray + the incongruity between the more ancient and modern forms of + expression. It is not quite in character with such a period to + imitate an antique style, in order to piece out an imperfect poem + in the character of the original, as Sir Walter Scott has done in + his continuation of Sir Tristram. + + "If, however, not even such faint and indistinct traces of + Athenian compilation are discoverable in the language of the + poems, the total absence of Athenian national feeling is perhaps + no less worthy of observation. In later, and it may fairly be + suspected in earlier times, the Athenians were more than + ordinarily jealous of the fame of their ancestors. But, amid all + the traditions of the glories of early Greece embodied in the + Iliad, the Athenians play a most subordinate and insignificant + part. Even the few passages which relate to their ancestors, Mr. + Knight suspects to be interpolations. It is possible, indeed, that + in its leading outline, the Iliad may be true to historic fact, + that in the great maritime expedition of western Greece against + the rival and half-kindred empire of the Laomedontiadae, the + chieftain of Thessaly, from his valour and the number of his + forces, may have been the most important ally of the Peloponnesian + sovereign; the preeminent value of the ancient poetry on the + Trojan war may thus have forced the national feeling of the + Athenians to yield to their taste. The songs which spoke of their + own great ancestor were, no doubt, of far inferior sublimity and + popularity, or, at first sight, a Theseid would have been much + more likely to have emanated from an Athenian synod of compilers + of ancient song, than an Achilleid or an Olysseid. Could France + have given birth to a Tasso, Tancred would have been the hero of + the Jerusalem. If, however, the Homeric ballads, as they are + sometimes called, which related the wrath of Achilles, with all + its direful consequences, were so far superior to the rest of the + poetic cycle, as to admit no rivalry,--it is still surprising, that + throughout the whole poem the _callida junctura_ should never + betray the workmanship of an Athenian hand, and that the national + spirit of a race, who have at a later period not inaptly been + compared to our self admiring neighbours, the French, should + submit with lofty self denial to the almost total exclusion of + their own ancestors--or, at least, to the questionable dignity of + only having produced a leader tolerably skilled in the military + tactics of his age."(27) + + +To return to the Wolfian theory. While it is to be confessed, that Wolf's +objections to the primitive integrity of the Iliad and Odyssey have never +been wholly got over, we cannot help discovering that they have failed to +enlighten us as to any substantial point, and that the difficulties with +which the whole subject is beset, are rather augmented than otherwise, if +we admit his hypothesis. Nor is Lachmann's(28) modification of his theory +any better. He divides the first twenty-two books of the Iliad into +sixteen different songs, and treats as ridiculous the belief that their +amalgamation into one regular poem belongs to a period earlier than the +age of Peisistratus. This, as Grote observes, "explains the gaps and +contradictions in the narrative, but it explains nothing else." Moreover, +we find no contradictions warranting this belief, and the so-called +sixteen poets concur in getting rid of the following leading men in the +first battle after the secession of Achilles: Elphenor, chief of the +Euboeans; Tlepolemus, of the Rhodians; Pandarus, of the Lycians; Odius, of +the Halizonians; Pirous and Acamas, of the Thracians. None of these heroes +again make their appearance, and we can but agree with Colonel Mure, that +"it seems strange that any number of independent poets should have so +harmoniously dispensed with the services of all six in the sequel." The +discrepancy, by which Pylaemenes, who is represented as dead in the fifth +book, weeps at his son's funeral in the thirteenth, can only be regarded +as the result of an interpolation. + +Grote, although not very distinct in stating his own opinions on the +subject, has done much to clearly show the incongruity of the Wolfian +theory, and of Lachmann's modifications with the character of +Peisistratus. But he has also shown, and we think with equal success, that +the two questions relative to the primitive unity of these poems, or, +supposing that impossible, the unison of these parts by Peisistratus, and +not before his time, are essentially distinct. In short, "a man may +believe the Iliad to have been put together out of pre-existing songs, +without recognising the age of Peisistratus as the period of its first +compilation." The friends or literary _employes_ of Peisistratus must have +found an Iliad that was already ancient, and the silence of the +Alexandrine critics respecting the Peisistratic "recension," goes far to +prove, that, among the numerous manuscripts they examined, this was either +wanting, or thought unworthy of attention. + +"Moreover," he continues, "the whole tenor of the poems themselves +confirms what is here remarked. There is nothing, either in the Iliad or +Odyssey, which savours of modernism, applying that term to the age of +Peisistratus--nothing which brings to our view the alterations brought +about by two centuries, in the Greek language, the coined money, the +habits of writing and reading, the despotisms and republican governments, +the close military array, the improved construction of ships, the +Amphiktyonic convocations, the mutual frequentation of religious +festivals, the Oriental and Egyptian veins of religion, &c., familiar to +the latter epoch. These alterations Onomakritus, and the other literary +friends of Peisistratus, could hardly have failed to notice, even without +design, had they then, for the first time, undertaken the task of piecing +together many self existent epics into one large aggregate. Everything in +the two great Homeric poems, both in substance and in language, belongs to +an age two or three centuries earlier than Peisistratus. Indeed, even the +interpolations (or those passages which, on the best grounds, are +pronounced to be such) betray no trace of the sixth century before Christ, +and may well have been heard by Archilochus and Kallinus--in some cases +even by Arktinus and Hesiod--as genuine Homeric matter(29) As far as the +evidences on the case, as well internal as external, enable us to judge, +we seem warranted in believing that the Iliad and Odyssey were recited +substantially as they now stand (always allowing for paitial divergences +of text and interpolations) in 776 B.C., our first trustworthy mark of +Grecian time; and this ancient date, let it be added, as it is the +best-authenticated fact, so it is also the most important attribute of the +Homeric poems, considered in reference to Grecian history; for they thus +afford us an insight into the anti-historical character of the Greeks, +enabling us to trace the subsequent forward march of the nation, and to +seize instructive contrasts between their former and their later +condition."(30) + +On the whole, I am inclined to believe, that the labours of Peisistratus +were wholly of an editorial character, although, I must confess, that I +can lay down nothing respecting the extent of his labours. At the same +time, so far from believing that the composition or primary arrangement of +these poems, in their present form, was the work of Peisistratus, I am +rather persuaded that the fine taste and elegant mind of that Athenian(31) +would lead him to preserve an ancient and traditional order of the poems, +rather than to patch and re-construct them according to a fanciful +hypothesis. I will not repeat the many discussions respecting whether the +poems were written or not, or whether the art of writing was known in the +time of their reputed author. Suffice it to say, that the more we read, +the less satisfied we are upon either subject. + +I cannot, however, help thinking, that the story which attributes the +preservation of these poems to Lycurgus, is little else than a version of +the same story as that of Peisistratus, while its historical probability +must be measured by that of many others relating to the Spartan Confucius. + +I will conclude this sketch of the Homeric theories, with an attempt, made +by an ingenious friend, to unite them into something like consistency. It +is as follows:-- + + + "No doubt the common soldiers of that age had, like the common + sailors of some fifty years ago, some one qualified to 'discourse + in excellent music' among them. Many of these, like those of the + negroes in the United States, were extemporaneous, and allusive to + events passing around them. But what was passing around them? The + grand events of a spirit-stirring war; occurrences likely to + impress themselves, as the mystical legends of former times had + done, upon their memory; besides which, a retentive memory was + deemed a virtue of the first water, and was cultivated accordingly + in those ancient times. Ballads at first, and down to the + beginning of the war with Troy, were merely recitations, with an + intonation. Then followed a species of recitative, probably with + an intoned burden. Tune next followed, as it aided the memory + considerably. + + "It was at this period, about four hundred years after the war, + that a poet flourished of the name of Melesigenes, or Moeonides, + but most probably the former. He saw that these ballads might be + made of great utility to his purpose of writing a poem on the + social position of Hellas, and, as a collection, he published + these lays, connecting them by a tale of his own. This poem now + exists, under the title of the 'Odyssea.' The author, however, did + not affix his own name to the poem, which, in fact, was, great + part of it, remodelled from the archaic dialect of Crete, in which + tongue the ballads were found by him. He therefore called it the + poem of Homeros, or the Collector; but this is rather a proof of + his modesty and talent, than of his mere drudging arrangement of + other people's ideas; for, as Grote has finely observed, arguing + for the unity of authorship, 'a great poet might have re-cast + pre-existing separate songs into one comprehensive whole; but no + mere arrangers or compilers would be competent to do so.' + + "While employed on the wild legend of Odysseus, he met with a + ballad, recording the quarrel of Achilles and Agamemnon. His noble + mind seized the hint that there presented itself, and the + Achilleis(32) grew under his hand. Unity of design, however, + caused him to publish the poem under the same pseudonyme as his + former work: and the disjointed lays of the ancient bards were + joined together, like those relating to the Cid, into a chronicle + history, named the Iliad. Melesigenes knew that the poem was + destined to be a lasting one, and so it has proved; but, first, + the poems were destined to undergo many vicissitudes and + corruptions, by the people who took to singing them in the + streets, assemblies, and agoras. However, Solon first, and then + Peisistratus, and afterwards Aristoteles and others, revised the + poems, and restored the works of Melesigenes Homeros to their + original integrity in a great measure."(33) + + +Having thus given some general notion of the strange theories which have +developed themselves respecting this most interesting subject, I must +still express my conviction as to the unity of the authorship of the +Homeric poems. To deny that many corruptions and interpolations disfigure +them, and that the intrusive hand of the poetasters may here and there +have inflicted a wound more serious than the negligence of the copyist, +would be an absurd and captious assumption, but it is to a higher +criticism that we must appeal, if we would either understand or enjoy +these poems. In maintaining the authenticity and personality of their one +author, be he Homer or Melesigenes, _quocunque nomine vocari eum jus +fasque sit,_ I feel conscious that, while the whole weight of historical +evidence is against the hypothesis which would assign these great works to +a plurality of authors, the most powerful internal evidence, and that +which springs from the deepest and most immediate impulse of the soul, +also speaks eloquently to the contrary. + +The minutiae of verbal criticism I am far from seeking to despise. Indeed, +considering the character of some of my own books, such an attempt would +be gross inconsistency. But, while I appreciate its importance in a +philological view, I am inclined to set little store on its aesthetic +value, especially in poetry. Three parts of the emendations made upon +poets are mere alterations, some of which, had they been suggested to the +author by his Maecenas or Africanus, he would probably have adopted. +Moreover, those who are most exact in laying down rules of verbal +criticism and interpretation, are often least competent to carry out their +own precepts. Grammarians are not poets by profession, but may be so _per +accidens._ I do not at this moment remember two emendations on Homer, +calculated to substantially improve the poetry of a passage, although a +mass of remarks, from Herodotus down to Loewe, have given us the history +of a thousand minute points, without which our Greek knowledge would be +gloomy and jejune. + +But it is not on words only that grammarians, mere grammarians, will +exercise their elaborate and often tiresome ingenuity. Binding down an +heroic or dramatic poet to the block upon which they have previously +dissected his words and sentences, they proceed to use the axe and the +pruning knife by wholesale, and inconsistent in everything but their wish +to make out a case of unlawful affiliation, they cut out book after book, +passage after passage, till the author is reduced to a collection of +fragments, or till those, who fancied they possessed the works of some +great man, find that they have been put off with a vile counterfeit got up +at second hand. If we compare the theories of Knight, Wolf, Lachmann, and +others, we shall feel better satisfied of the utter uncertainty of +criticism than of the apocryphal position of Homer. One rejects what +another considers the turning-point of his theory. One cuts a supposed +knot by expunging what another would explain by omitting something else. + +Nor is this morbid species of sagacity by any means to be looked upon as a +literary novelty. Justus Lipsius, a scholar of no ordinary skill, seems to +revel in the imaginary discovery, that the tragedies attributed to Seneca +are by _four_ different authors.(34) Now, I will venture to assert, that +these tragedies are so uniform, not only in their borrowed phraseology--a +phraseology with which writers like Boethius and Saxo Grammaticus were +more charmed than ourselves--in their freedom from real poetry, and last, +but not least, in an ultra-refined and consistent abandonment of good +taste, that few writers of the present day would question the capabilities +of the same gentleman, be he Seneca or not, to produce not only these, but +a great many more equally bad. With equal sagacity, Father Hardouin +astonished the world with the startling announcement that the AEneid of +Virgil, and the satires of Horace, were literary deceptions. Now, without +wishing to say one word of disrespect against the industry and +learning--nay, the refined acuteness--which scholars, like Wolf, have +bestowed upon this subject, I must express my fears, that many of our +modern Homeric theories will become matter for the surprise and +entertainment, rather than the instruction, of posterity. Nor can I help +thinking, that the literary history of more recent times will account for +many points of difficulty in the transmission of the Iliad and Odyssey to +a period so remote from that of their first creation. + +I have already expressed my belief that the labours of Peisistratus were +of a purely editorial character; and there seems no more reason why +corrupt and imperfect editions of Homer may not have been abroad in his +day, than that the poems of Valerius Flaccus and Tibullus should have +given so much trouble to Poggio, Scaliger, and others. But, after all, the +main fault in all the Homeric theories is, that they demand too great a +sacrifice of those feelings to which poetry most powerfully appeals, and +which are its most fitting judges. The ingenuity which has sought to rob +us of the name and existence of Homer, does too much violence to that +inward emotion, which makes our whole soul yearn with love and admiration +for the blind bard of Chios. To believe the author of the Iliad a mere +compiler, is to degrade the powers of human invention; to elevate +analytical judgment at the expense of the most ennobling impulses of the +soul; and to forget the ocean in the contemplation of a polypus. There is +a catholicity, so to speak, in the very name of Homer. Our faith in the +author of the Iliad may be a mistaken one, but as yet nobody has taught us +a better. + +While, however, I look upon the belief in Homer as one that has nature +herself for its mainspring; while I can join with old Ennius in believing +in Homer as the ghost, who, like some patron saint, hovers round the bed +of the poet, and even bestows rare gifts from that wealth of imagination +which a host of imitators could not exhaust,--still I am far from wishing +to deny that the author of these great poems found a rich fund of +tradition, a well-stocked mythical storehouse from whence he might derive +both subject and embellishment. But it is one thing to _use_ existing +romances in the embellishment of a poem, another to patch up the poem +itself from such materials. What consistency of style and execution can be +hoped for from such an attempt? or, rather, what bad taste and tedium will +not be the infallible result? + +A blending of popular legends, and a free use of the songs of other bards, +are features perfectly consistent with poetical originality. In fact, the +most original writer is still drawing upon outward impressions--nay, even +his own thoughts are a kind of secondary agents which support and feed the +impulses of imagination. But unless there be some grand pervading +principle--some invisible, yet most distinctly stamped archetypus of the +great whole, a poem like the Iliad can never come to the birth. Traditions +the most picturesque, episodes the most pathetic, local associations +teeming with the thoughts of gods and great men, may crowd in one mighty +vision, or reveal themselves in more substantial forms to the mind of the +poet; but, except the power to create a grand whole, to which these shall +be but as details and embellishments, be present, we shall have nought but +a scrap-book, a parterre filled with flowers and weeds strangling each +other in their wild redundancy: we shall have a cento of rags and tatters, +which will require little acuteness to detect. + +Sensible as I am of the difficulty of disproving a negative, and aware as +I must be of the weighty grounds there are for opposing my belief, it +still seems to me that the Homeric question is one that is reserved for a +higher criticism than it has often obtained. We are not by nature intended +to know all things; still less, to compass the powers by which the +greatest blessings of life have been placed at our disposal. Were faith no +virtue, then we might indeed wonder why God willed our ignorance on any +matter. But we are too well taught the contrary lesson; and it seems as +though our faith should be especially tried touching the men and the +events which have wrought most influence upon the condition of humanity. +And there is a kind of sacredness attached to the memory of the great and +the good, which seems to bid us repulse the scepticism which would +allegorize their existence into a pleasing apologue, and measure the +giants of intellect by an homeopathic dynameter. + +Long and habitual reading of Homer appears to familiarize our thoughts +even to his incongruities; or rather, if we read in a right spirit and +with a heartfelt appreciation, we are too much dazzled, too deeply wrapped +in admiration of the whole, to dwell upon the minute spots which mere +analysis can discover. In reading an heroic poem we must transform +ourselves into heroes of the time being, we in imagination must fight over +the same battles, woo the same loves, burn with the same sense of injury, +as an Achilles or a Hector. And if we can but attain this degree of +enthusiasm (and less enthusiasm will scarcely suffice for the reading of +Homer), we shall feel that the poems of Homer are not only the work of one +writer, but of the greatest writer that ever touched the hearts of men by +the power of song. + +And it was this supposed unity of authorship which gave these poems their +powerful influence over the minds of the men of old. Heeren, who is +evidently little disposed in favour of modern theories, finely observes:-- + + + "It was Homer who formed the character of the Greek nation. No + poet has ever, as a poet, exercised a similar influence over his + countrymen. Prophets, lawgivers, and sages have formed the + character of other nations; it was reserved to a poet to form that + of the Greeks. This is a feature in their character which was not + wholly erased even in the period of their degeneracy. When + lawgivers and sages appeared in Greece, the work of the poet had + already been accomplished; and they paid homage to his superior + genius. He held up before his nation the mirror, in which they + were to behold the world of gods and heroes no less than of feeble + mortals, and to behold them reflected with purity and truth. His + poems are founded on the first feeling of human nature; on the + love of children, wife, and country; on that passion which + outweighs all others, the love of glory. His songs were poured + forth from a breast which sympathized with all the feelings of + man; and therefore they enter, and will continue to enter, every + breast which cherishes the same sympathies. If it is granted to + his immortal spirit, from another heaven than any of which he + dreamed on earth, to look down on his race, to see the nations + from the fields of Asia to the forests of Hercynia, performing + pilgrimages to the fountain which his magic wand caused to flow; + if it is permitted to him to view the vast assemblage of grand, of + elevated, of glorious productions, which had been called into + being by means of his songs; wherever his immortal spirit may + reside, this alone would suffice to complete his happiness."(35) + + +Can we contemplate that ancient monument, on which the "Apotheosis of +Homer"(36) is depictured, and not feel how much of pleasing association, +how much that appeals most forcibly and most distinctly to our minds, is +lost by the admittance of any theory but our old tradition? The more we +read, and the more we think--think as becomes the readers of Homer,--the +more rooted becomes the conviction that the Father of Poetry gave us this +rich inheritance, whole and entire. Whatever were the means of its +preservation, let us rather be thankful for the treasury of taste and +eloquence thus laid open to our use, than seek to make it a mere centre +around which to drive a series of theories, whose wildness is only +equalled by their inconsistency with each other. + +As the hymns, and some other poems usually ascribed to Homer, are not +included in Pope's translation, I will content myself with a brief account +of the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, from the pen of a writer who has done +it full justice(37):-- + + + "This poem," says Coleridge, "is a short mock-heroic of ancient + date. The text varies in different editions, and is obviously + disturbed and corrupt to a great degree; it is commonly said to + have been a juvenile essay of Homer's genius; others have + attributed it to the same Pigrees, mentioned above, and whose + reputation for humour seems to have invited the appropriation of + any piece of ancient wit, the author of which was uncertain; so + little did the Greeks, before the age of the Ptolemies, know or + care about that department of criticism employed in determining + the genuineness of ancient writings. As to this little poem being + a youthful prolusion of Homer, it seems sufficient to say that + from the beginning to the end it is a plain and palpable parody, + not only of the general spirit, but of the numerous passages of + the Iliad itself; and even, if no such intention to parody were + discernible in it, the objection would still remain, that to + suppose a work of mere burlesque to be the primary effort of + poetry in a simple age, seems to reverse that order in the + development of national taste, which the history of every other + people in Europe, and of many in Asia, has almost ascertained to + be a law of the human mind; it is in a state of society much more + refined and permanent than that described in the Iliad, that any + popularity would attend such a ridicule of war and the gods as is + contained in this poem; and the fact of there having existed three + other poems of the same kind attributed, for aught we can see, + with as much reason to Homer, is a strong inducement to believe + that none of them were of the Homeric age. Knight infers from the + usage of the word deltos, "writing tablet," instead of diphthera, + "skin," which, according to Herod. 5, 58, was the material + employed by the Asiatic Greeks for that purpose, that this poem + was another offspring of Attic ingenuity; and generally that the + familiar mention of the cock (v. 191) is a strong argument against + so ancient a date for its composition." + + +Having thus given a brief account of the poems comprised in Pope's design, +I will now proceed to make a few remarks on his translation, and on my own +purpose in the present edition. + +Pope was not a Grecian. His whole education had been irregular, and his +earliest acquaintance with the poet was through the version of Ogilby. It +is not too much to say that his whole work bears the impress of a +disposition to be satisfied with the general sense, rather than to dive +deeply into the minute and delicate features of language. Hence his whole +work is to be looked upon rather as an elegant paraphrase than a +translation. There are, to be sure, certain conventional anecdotes, which +prove that Pope consulted various friends, whose classical attainments +were sounder than his own, during the undertaking; but it is probable that +these examinations were the result rather of the contradictory versions +already existing, than of a desire to make a perfect transcript of the +original. And in those days, what is called literal translation was less +cultivated than at present. If something like the general sense could be +decorated with the easy gracefulness of a practised poet; if the charms of +metrical cadence and a pleasing fluency could be made consistent with a +fair interpretation of the poet's meaning, his _words_ were less jealously +sought for, and those who could read so good a poem as Pope's Iliad had +fair reason to be satisfied. + +It would be absurd, therefore, to test Pope's translation by our own +advancing knowledge of the original text. We must be content to look at it +as a most delightful work in itself,--a work which is as much a part of +English literature as Homer himself is of Greek. We must not be torn from +our kindly associations with the old Iliad, that once was our most +cherished companion, or our most looked-for prize, merely because +Buttmann, Loewe, and Liddell have made us so much more accurate as to +amphikupellon being an adjective, and not a substantive. Far be it from us +to defend the faults of Pope, especially when we think of Chapman's fine, +bold, rough old English;--far be it from, us to hold up his translation as +what a translation of Homer _might_ be. But we can still dismiss Pope's +Iliad to the hands of our readers, with the consciousness that they must +have read a very great number of books before they have read its fellow. + +As to the Notes accompanying the present volume, they are drawn up without +pretension, and mainly with the view of helping the general reader. Having +some little time since translated all the works of Homer for another +publisher, I might have brought a large amount of accumulated matter, +sometimes of a critical character, to bear upon the text. But Pope's +version was no field for such a display; and my purpose was to touch +briefly on antiquarian or mythological allusions, to notice occasionally +_some_ departures from the original, and to give a few parallel passages +from our English Homer, Milton. In the latter task I cannot pretend to +novelty, but I trust that my other annotations, while utterly disclaiming +high scholastic views, will be found to convey as much as is wanted; at +least, as far as the necessary limits of these volumes could be expected +to admit. To write a commentary on Homer is not my present aim; but if I +have made Pope's translation a little more entertaining and instructive to +a mass of miscellaneous readers, I shall consider my wishes satisfactorily +accomplished. + + THEODORE ALOIS BUCKLEY. + +_Christ Church._ + + + + + +POPE'S PREFACE TO THE ILIAD OF HOMER + + +Homer is universally allowed to have had the greatest invention of any +writer whatever. The praise of judgment Virgil has justly contested with +him, and others may have their pretensions as to particular excellences; +but his invention remains yet unrivalled. Nor is it a wonder if he has +ever been acknowledged the greatest of poets, who most excelled in that +which is the very foundation of poetry. It is the invention that, in +different degrees, distinguishes all great geniuses: the utmost stretch of +human study, learning, and industry, which masters everything besides, can +never attain to this. It furnishes art with all her materials, and without +it judgment itself can at best but "steal wisely:" for art is only like a +prudent steward that lives on managing the riches of nature. Whatever +praises may be given to works of judgment, there is not even a single +beauty in them to which the invention must not contribute: as in the most +regular gardens, art can only reduce beauties of nature to more +regularity, and such a figure, which the common eye may better take in, +and is, therefore, more entertained with. And, perhaps, the reason why +common critics are inclined to prefer a judicious and methodical genius to +a great and fruitful one, is, because they find it easier for themselves +to pursue their observations through a uniform and bounded walk of art, +than to comprehend the vast and various extent of nature. + +Our author's work is a wild paradise, where, if we cannot see all the +beauties so distinctly as in an ordered garden, it is only because the +number of them is infinitely greater. It is like a copious nursery, which +contains the seeds and first productions of every kind, out of which those +who followed him have but selected some particular plants, each according +to his fancy, to cultivate and beautify. If some things are too luxuriant +it is owing to the richness of the soil; and if others are not arrived to +perfection or maturity, it is only because they are overrun and oppressed +by those of a stronger nature. + +It is to the strength of this amazing invention we are to attribute that +unequalled fire and rapture which is so forcible in Homer, that no man of +a true poetical spirit is master of himself while he reads him. What he +writes is of the most animated nature imaginable; every thing moves, every +thing lives, and is put in action. If a council be called, or a battle +fought, you are not coldly informed of what was said or done as from a +third person; the reader is hurried out of himself by the force of the +poet's imagination, and turns in one place to a hearer, in another to a +spectator. The course of his verses resembles that of the army he +describes, + + Hoid' ar' isan hosei te puri chthon pasa nemoito. + +"They pour along like a fire that sweeps the whole earth before it." It +is, however, remarkable, that his fancy, which is everywhere vigorous, is +not discovered immediately at the beginning of his poem in its fullest +splendour: it grows in the progress both upon himself and others, and +becomes on fire, like a chariot-wheel, by its own rapidity. Exact +disposition, just thought, correct elocution, polished numbers, may have +been found in a thousand; but this poetic fire, this "vivida vis animi," +in a very few. Even in works where all those are imperfect or neglected, +this can overpower criticism, and make us admire even while we disapprove. +Nay, where this appears, though attended with absurdities, it brightens +all the rubbish about it, till we see nothing but its own splendour. This +fire is discerned in Virgil, but discerned as through a glass, reflected +from Homer, more shining than fierce, but everywhere equal and constant: +in Lucan and Statius it bursts out in sudden, short, and interrupted +flashes: In Milton it glows like a furnace kept up to an uncommon ardour +by the force of art: in Shakspeare it strikes before we are aware, like an +accidental fire from heaven: but in Homer, and in him only, it burns +everywhere clearly and everywhere irresistibly. + +I shall here endeavour to show how this vast invention exerts itself in a +manner superior to that of any poet through all the main constituent parts +of his work: as it is the great and peculiar characteristic which +distinguishes him from all other authors. + +This strong and ruling faculty was like a powerful star, which, in the +violence of its course, drew all things within its vortex. It seemed not +enough to have taken in the whole circle of arts, and the whole compass of +nature, to supply his maxims and reflections; all the inward passions and +affections of mankind, to furnish his characters: and all the outward +forms and images of things for his descriptions: but wanting yet an ampler +sphere to expatiate in, he opened a new and boundless walk for his +imagination, and created a world for himself in the invention of fable. +That which Aristotle calls "the soul of poetry," was first breathed into +it by Homer, I shall begin with considering him in his part, as it is +naturally the first; and I speak of it both as it means the design of a +poem, and as it is taken for fiction. + +Fable may be divided into the probable, the allegorical, and the +marvellous. The probable fable is the recital of such actions as, though +they did not happen, yet might, in the common course of nature; or of such +as, though they did, became fables by the additional episodes and manner +of telling them. Of this sort is the main story of an epic poem, "The +return of Ulysses, the settlement of the Trojans in Italy," or the like. +That of the Iliad is the "anger of Achilles," the most short and single +subject that ever was chosen by any poet. Yet this he has supplied with a +vaster variety of incidents and events, and crowded with a greater number +of councils, speeches, battles, and episodes of all kinds, than are to be +found even in those poems whose schemes are of the utmost latitude and +irregularity. The action is hurried on with the most vehement spirit, and +its whole duration employs not so much as fifty days. Virgil, for want of +so warm a genius, aided himself by taking in a more extensive subject, as +well as a greater length of time, and contracting the design of both +Homer's poems into one, which is yet but a fourth part as large as his. +The other epic poets have used the same practice, but generally carried it +so far as to superinduce a multiplicity of fables, destroy the unity of +action, and lose their readers in an unreasonable length of time. Nor is +it only in the main design that they have been unable to add to his +invention, but they have followed him in every episode and part of story. +If he has given a regular catalogue of an army, they all draw up their +forces in the same order. If he has funeral games for Patroclus, Virgil +has the same for Anchises, and Statius (rather than omit them) destroys +the unity of his actions for those of Archemorus. If Ulysses visit the +shades, the AEneas of Virgil and Scipio of Silius are sent after him. If he +be detained from his return by the allurements of Calypso, so is AEneas by +Dido, and Rinaldo by Armida. If Achilles be absent from the army on the +score of a quarrel through half the poem, Rinaldo must absent himself just +as long on the like account. If he gives his hero a suit of celestial +armour, Virgil and Tasso make the same present to theirs. Virgil has not +only observed this close imitation of Homer, but, where he had not led the +way, supplied the want from other Greek authors. Thus the story of Sinon, +and the taking of Troy, was copied (says Macrobius) almost word for word +from Pisander, as the loves of Dido and AEneas are taken from those of +Medea and Jason in Apollonius, and several others in the same manner. + +To proceed to the allegorical fable--If we reflect upon those innumerable +knowledges, those secrets of nature and physical philosophy which Homer is +generally supposed to have wrapped up in his allegories, what a new and +ample scene of wonder may this consideration afford us! How fertile will +that imagination appear, which as able to clothe all the properties of +elements, the qualifications of the mind, the virtues and vices, in forms +and persons, and to introduce them into actions agreeable to the nature of +the things they shadowed! This is a field in which no succeeding poets +could dispute with Homer, and whatever commendations have been allowed +them on this head, are by no means for their invention in having enlarged +his circle, but for their judgment in having contracted it. For when the +mode of learning changed in the following ages, and science was delivered +in a plainer manner, it then became as reasonable in the more modern poets +to lay it aside, as it was in Homer to make use of it. And perhaps it was +no unhappy circumstance for Virgil, that there was not in his time that +demand upon him of so great an invention as might be capable of furnishing +all those allegorical parts of a poem. + +The marvellous fable includes whatever is supernatural, and especially the +machines of the gods. If Homer was not the first who introduced the +deities (as Herodotus imagines) into the religion of Greece, he seems the +first who brought them into a system of machinery for poetry, and such a +one as makes its greatest importance and dignity: for we find those +authors who have been offended at the literal notion of the gods, +constantly laying their accusation against Homer as the chief support of +it. But whatever cause there might be to blame his machines in a +philosophical or religious view, they are so perfect in the poetic, that +mankind have been ever since contented to follow them: none have been able +to enlarge the sphere of poetry beyond the limits he has set: every +attempt of this nature has proved unsuccessful; and after all the various +changes of times and religions, his gods continue to this day the gods of +poetry. + +We come now to the characters of his persons; and here we shall find no +author has ever drawn so many, with so visible and surprising a variety, +or given us such lively and affecting impressions of them. Every one has +something so singularly his own, that no painter could have distinguished +them more by their features, than the poet has by their manners. Nothing +can be more exact than the distinctions he has observed in the different +degrees of virtues and vices. The single quality of courage is wonderfully +diversified in the several characters of the Iliad. That of Achilles is +furious and intractable; that of Diomede forward, yet listening to advice, +and subject to command; that of Ajax is heavy and self-confiding; of +Hector, active and vigilant: the courage of Agamemnon is inspirited by +love of empire and ambition; that of Menelaus mixed with softness and +tenderness for his people: we find in Idomeneus a plain direct soldier; in +Sarpedon a gallant and generous one. Nor is this judicious and astonishing +diversity to be found only in the principal quality which constitutes the +main of each character, but even in the under parts of it, to which he +takes care to give a tincture of that principal one. For example: the main +characters of Ulysses and Nestor consist in wisdom; and they are distinct +in this, that the wisdom of one is artificial and various, of the other +natural, open, and regular. But they have, besides, characters of courage; +and this quality also takes a different turn in each from the difference +of his prudence; for one in the war depends still upon caution, the other +upon experience. It would be endless to produce instances of these kinds. +The characters of Virgil are far from striking us in this open manner; +they lie, in a great degree, hidden and undistinguished; and, where they +are marked most evidently affect us not in proportion to those of Homer. +His characters of valour are much alike; even that of Turnus seems no way +peculiar, but, as it is, in a superior degree; and we see nothing that +differences the courage of Mnestheus from that of Sergestus, Cloanthus, or +the rest, In like manner it may be remarked of Statius's heroes, that an +air of impetuosity runs through them all; the same horrid and savage +courage appears in his Capaneus, Tydeus, Hippomedon, &c. They have a +parity of character, which makes them seem brothers of one family. I +believe when the reader is led into this tract of reflection, if he will +pursue it through the epic and tragic writers, he will be convinced how +infinitely superior, in this point, the invention of Homer was to that of +all others. + +The speeches are to be considered as they flow from the characters; being +perfect or defective as they agree or disagree with the manners, of those +who utter them. As there is more variety of characters in the Iliad, so +there is of speeches, than in any other poem. "Everything in it has +manner" (as Aristotle expresses it), that is, everything is acted or +spoken. It is hardly credible, in a work of such length, how small a +number of lines are employed in narration. In Virgil the dramatic part is +less in proportion to the narrative, and the speeches often consist of +general reflections or thoughts, which might be equally just in any +person's mouth upon the same occasion. As many of his persons have no +apparent characters, so many of his speeches escape being applied and +judged by the rule of propriety. We oftener think of the author himself +when we read Virgil, than when we are engaged in Homer, all which are the +effects of a colder invention, that interests us less in the action +described. Homer makes us hearers, and Virgil leaves us readers. + +If, in the next place, we take a view of the sentiments, the same +presiding faculty is eminent in the sublimity and spirit of his thoughts. +Longinus has given his opinion, that it was in this part Homer principally +excelled. What were alone sufficient to prove the grandeur and excellence +of his sentiments in general, is, that they have so remarkable a parity +with those of the Scripture. Duport, in his Gnomologia Homerica, has +collected innumerable instances of this sort. And it is with justice an +excellent modern writer allows, that if Virgil has not so many thoughts +that are low and vulgar, he has not so many that are sublime and noble; +and that the Roman author seldom rises into very astonishing sentiments +where he is not fired by the Iliad. + +If we observe his descriptions, images, and similes, we shall find the +invention still predominant. To what else can we ascribe that vast +comprehension of images of every sort, where we see each circumstance of +art, and individual of nature, summoned together by the extent and +fecundity of his imagination to which all things, in their various views +presented themselves in an instant, and had their impressions taken off to +perfection at a heat? Nay, he not only gives us the full prospects of +things, but several unexpected peculiarities and side views, unobserved by +any painter but Homer. Nothing is so surprising as the descriptions of his +battles, which take up no less than half the Iliad, and are supplied with +so vast a variety of incidents, that no one bears a likeness to another; +such different kinds of deaths, that no two heroes are wounded in the same +manner, and such a profusion of noble ideas, that every battle rises above +the last in greatness, horror, and confusion. It is certain there is not +near that number of images and descriptions in any epic poet, though every +one has assisted himself with a great quantity out of him; and it is +evident of Virgil especially, that he has scarce any comparisons which are +not drawn from his master. + +If we descend from hence to the expression, we see the bright imagination +of Homer shining out in the most enlivened forms of it. We acknowledge him +the father of poetical diction; the first who taught that "language of the +gods" to men. His expression is like the colouring of some great masters, +which discovers itself to be laid on boldly, and executed with rapidity. +It is, indeed, the strongest and most glowing imaginable, and touched with +the greatest spirit. Aristotle had reason to say, he was the only poet who +had found out "living words;" there are in him more daring figures and +metaphors than in any good author whatever. An arrow is "impatient" to be +on the wing, a weapon "thirsts" to drink the blood of an enemy, and the +like, yet his expression is never too big for the sense, but justly great +in proportion to it. It is the sentiment that swells and fills out the +diction, which rises with it, and forms itself about it, for in the same +degree that a thought is warmer, an expression will be brighter, as that +is more strong, this will become more perspicuous; like glass in the +furnace, which grows to a greater magnitude, and refines to a greater +clearness, only as the breath within is more powerful, and the heat more +intense. + +To throw his language more out of prose, Homer seems to have affected the +compound epithets. This was a sort of composition peculiarly proper to +poetry, not only as it heightened the diction, but as it assisted and +filled the numbers with greater sound and pomp, and likewise conduced in +some measure to thicken the images. On this last consideration I cannot +but attribute these also to the fruitfulness of his invention, since (as +he has managed them) they are a sort of supernumerary pictures of the +persons or things to which they were joined. We see the motion of Hector's +plumes in the epithet Korythaiolos, the landscape of Mount Neritus in that +of Einosiphyllos, and so of others, which particular images could not have +been insisted upon so long as to express them in a description (though but +of a single line) without diverting the reader too much from the principal +action or figure. As a metaphor is a short simile, one of these epithets +is a short description. + +Lastly, if we consider his versification, we shall be sensible what a +share of praise is due to his invention in that also. He was not satisfied +with his language as he found it settled in any one part of Greece, but +searched through its different dialects with this particular view, to +beautify and perfect his numbers he considered these as they had a greater +mixture of vowels or consonants, and accordingly employed them as the +verse required either a greater smoothness or strength. What he most +affected was the Ionic, which has a peculiar sweetness, from its never +using contractions, and from its custom of resolving the diphthongs into +two syllables, so as to make the words open themselves with a more +spreading and sonorous fluency. With this he mingled the Attic +contractions, the broader Doric, and the feebler AEolic, which often +rejects its aspirate, or takes off its accent, and completed this variety +by altering some letters with the licence of poetry. Thus his measures, +instead of being fetters to his sense, were always in readiness to run +along with the warmth of his rapture, and even to give a further +representation of his notions, in the correspondence of their sounds to +what they signified. Out of all these he has derived that harmony which +makes us confess he had not only the richest head, but the finest ear in +the world. This is so great a truth, that whoever will but consult the +tune of his verses, even without understanding them (with the same sort of +diligence as we daily see practised in the case of Italian operas), will +find more sweetness, variety, and majesty of sound, than in any other +language of poetry. The beauty of his numbers is allowed by the critics to +be copied but faintly by Virgil himself, though they are so just as to +ascribe it to the nature of the Latin tongue: indeed the Greek has some +advantages both from the natural sound of its words, and the turn and +cadence of its verse, which agree with the genius of no other language. +Virgil was very sensible of this, and used the utmost diligence in working +up a more intractable language to whatsoever graces it was capable of, +and, in particular, never failed to bring the sound of his line to a +beautiful agreement with its sense. If the Grecian poet has not been so +frequently celebrated on this account as the Roman, the only reason is, +that fewer critics have understood one language than the other. Dionysius +of Halicarnassus has pointed out many of our author's beauties in this +kind, in his treatise of the Composition of Words. It suffices at present +to observe of his numbers, that they flow with so much ease, as to make +one imagine Homer had no other care than to transcribe as fast as the +Muses dictated, and, at the same time, with so much force and inspiriting +vigour, that they awaken and raise us like the sound of a trumpet. They +roll along as a plentiful river, always in motion, and always full; while +we are borne away by a tide of verse, the most rapid, and yet the most +smooth imaginable. + +Thus on whatever side we contemplate Homer, what principally strikes us is +his invention. It is that which forms the character of each part of his +work; and accordingly we find it to have made his fable more extensive and +copious than any other, his manners more lively and strongly marked, his +speeches more affecting and transported, his sentiments more warm and +sublime, his images and descriptions more full and animated, his +expression more raised and daring, and his numbers more rapid and various. +I hope, in what has been said of Virgil, with regard to any of these +heads, I have no way derogated from his character. Nothing is more absurd +or endless, than the common method of comparing eminent writers by an +opposition of particular passages in them, and forming a judgment from +thence of their merit upon the whole. We ought to have a certain knowledge +of the principal character and distinguishing excellence of each: it is in +that we are to consider him, and in proportion to his degree in that we +are to admire him. No author or man ever excelled all the world in more +than one faculty; and as Homer has done this in invention, Virgil has in +judgment. Not that we are to think that Homer wanted judgment, because +Virgil had it in a more eminent degree; or that Virgil wanted invention, +because Homer possessed a larger share of it; each of these great authors +had more of both than perhaps any man besides, and are only said to have +less in comparison with one another. Homer was the greater genius, Virgil +the better artist. In one we most admire the man, in the other the work. +Homer hurries and transports us with a commanding impetuosity; Virgil +leads us with an attractive majesty; Homer scatters with a generous +profusion; Virgil bestows with a careful magnificence; Homer, like the +Nile, pours out his riches with a boundless overflow; Virgil, like a river +in its banks, with a gentle and constant stream. When we behold their +battles, methinks the two poets resemble the heroes they celebrate. Homer, +boundless and resistless as Achilles, bears all before him, and shines +more and more as the tumult increases; Virgil, calmly daring, like AEneas, +appears undisturbed in the midst of the action; disposes all about him, +and conquers with tranquillity. And when we look upon their machines, +Homer seems like his own Jupiter in his terrors, shaking Olympus, +scattering the lightnings, and firing the heavens: Virgil, like the same +power in his benevolence, counselling with the gods, laying plans for +empires, and regularly ordering his whole creation. + +But after all, it is with great parts, as with great virtues, they +naturally border on some imperfection; and it is often hard to distinguish +exactly where the virtue ends, or the fault begins. As prudence may +sometimes sink to suspicion, so may a great judgment decline to coldness; +and as magnanimity may run up to profusion or extravagance, so may a great +invention to redundancy or wildness. If we look upon Homer in this view, +we shall perceive the chief objections against him to proceed from so +noble a cause as the excess of this faculty. + +Among these we may reckon some of his marvellous fictions, upon which so +much criticism has been spent, as surpassing all the bounds of +probability. Perhaps it may be with great and superior souls, as with +gigantic bodies, which, exerting themselves with unusual strength, exceed +what is commonly thought the due proportion of parts, to become miracles +in the whole; and, like the old heroes of that make, commit something near +extravagance, amidst a series of glorious and inimitable performances. +Thus Homer has his "speaking horses;" and Virgil his "myrtles distilling +blood;" where the latter has not so much as contrived the easy +intervention of a deity to save the probability. + +It is owing to the same vast invention, that his similes have been thought +too exuberant and full of circumstances. The force of this faculty is seen +in nothing more, than in its inability to confine itself to that single +circumstance upon which the comparison is grounded: it runs out into +embellishments of additional images, which, however, are so managed as not +to overpower the main one. His similes are like pictures, where the +principal figure has not only its proportion given agreeable to the +original, but is also set off with occasional ornaments and prospects. The +same will account for his manner of heaping a number of comparisons +together in one breath, when his fancy suggested to him at once so many +various and correspondent images. The reader will easily extend this +observation to more objections of the same kind. + +If there are others which seem rather to charge him with a defect or +narrowness of genius, than an excess of it, those seeming defects will be +found upon examination to proceed wholly from the nature of the times he +lived in. Such are his grosser representations of the gods; and the +vicious and imperfect manners of his heroes; but I must here speak a word +of the latter, as it is a point generally carried into extremes, both by +the censurers and defenders of Homer. It must be a strange partiality to +antiquity, to think with Madame Dacier,(38) "that those times and manners +are so much the more excellent, as they are more contrary to ours." Who +can be so prejudiced in their favour as to magnify the felicity of those +ages, when a spirit of revenge and cruelty, joined with the practice of +rapine and robbery, reigned through the world: when no mercy was shown but +for the sake of lucre; when the greatest princes were put to the sword, +and their wives and daughters made slaves and concubines? On the other +side, I would not be so delicate as those modern critics, who are shocked +at the servile offices and mean employments in which we sometimes see the +heroes of Homer engaged. There is a pleasure in taking a view of that +simplicity, in opposition to the luxury of succeeding ages: in beholding +monarchs without their guards; princes tending their flocks, and +princesses drawing water from the springs. When we read Homer, we ought to +reflect that we are reading the most ancient author in the heathen world; +and those who consider him in this light, will double their pleasure in +the perusal of him. Let them think they are growing acquainted with +nations and people that are now no more; that they are stepping almost +three thousand years back into the remotest antiquity, and entertaining +themselves with a clear and surprising vision of things nowhere else to be +found, the only true mirror of that ancient world. By this means alone +their greatest obstacles will vanish; and what usually creates their +dislike, will become a satisfaction. + +This consideration may further serve to answer for the constant use of the +same epithets to his gods and heroes; such as the "far-darting Phoebus," +the "blue-eyed Pallas," the "swift-footed Achilles," &c., which some have +censured as impertinent, and tediously repeated. Those of the gods +depended upon the powers and offices then believed to belong to them; and +had contracted a weight and veneration from the rites and solemn devotions +in which they were used: they were a sort of attributes with which it was +a matter of religion to salute them on all occasions, and which it was an +irreverence to omit. As for the epithets of great men, Mons. Boileau is of +opinion, that they were in the nature of surnames, and repeated as such; +for the Greeks having no names derived from their fathers, were obliged to +add some other distinction of each person; either naming his parents +expressly, or his place of birth, profession, or the like: as Alexander +the son of Philip, Herodotus of Halicarnassus, Diogenes the Cynic, &c. +Homer, therefore, complying with the custom of his country, used such +distinctive additions as better agreed with poetry. And, indeed, we have +something parallel to these in modern times, such as the names of Harold +Harefoot, Edmund Ironside, Edward Longshanks, Edward the Black Prince, &c. +If yet this be thought to account better for the propriety than for the +repetition, I shall add a further conjecture. Hesiod, dividing the world +into its different ages, has placed a fourth age, between the brazen and +the iron one, of "heroes distinct from other men; a divine race who fought +at Thebes and Troy, are called demi-gods, and live by the care of Jupiter +in the islands of the blessed." Now among the divine honours which were +paid them, they might have this also in common with the gods, not to be +mentioned without the solemnity of an epithet, and such as might be +acceptable to them by celebrating their families, actions or qualities. + +What other cavils have been raised against Homer, are such as hardly +deserve a reply, but will yet be taken notice of as they occur in the +course of the work. Many have been occasioned by an injudicious endeavour +to exalt Virgil; which is much the same, as if one should think to raise +the superstructure by undermining the foundation: one would imagine, by +the whole course of their parallels, that these critics never so much as +heard of Homer's having written first; a consideration which whoever +compares these two poets ought to have always in his eye. Some accuse him +for the same things which they overlook or praise in the other; as when +they prefer the fable and moral of the AEneis to those of the Iliad, for +the same reasons which might set the Odyssey above the AEneis; as that the +hero is a wiser man, and the action of the one more beneficial to his +country than that of the other; or else they blame him for not doing what +he never designed; as because Achilles is not as good and perfect a prince +as AEneas, when the very moral of his poem required a contrary character: +it is thus that Rapin judges in his comparison of Homer and Virgil. Others +select those particular passages of Homer which are not so laboured as +some that Virgil drew out of them: this is the whole management of +Scaliger in his Poetics. Others quarrel with what they take for low and +mean expressions, sometimes through a false delicacy and refinement, +oftener from an ignorance of the graces of the original, and then triumph +in the awkwardness of their own translations: this is the conduct of +Perrault in his Parallels. Lastly, there are others, who, pretending to a +fairer proceeding, distinguish between the personal merit of Homer, and +that of his work; but when they come to assign the causes of the great +reputation of the Iliad, they found it upon the ignorance of his times, +and the prejudice of those that followed: and in pursuance of this +principle, they make those accidents (such as the contention of the +cities, &c.) to be the causes of his fame, which were in reality the +consequences of his merit. The same might as well be said of Virgil, or +any great author whose general character will infallibly raise many casual +additions to their reputation. This is the method of Mons. de la Mott; who +yet confesses upon the whole that in whatever age Homer had lived, he must +have been the greatest poet of his nation, and that he may be said in his +sense to be the master even of those who surpassed him.(39) + +In all these objections we see nothing that contradicts his title to the +honour of the chief invention: and as long as this (which is indeed the +characteristic of poetry itself) remains unequalled by his followers, he +still continues superior to them. A cooler judgment may commit fewer +faults, and be more approved in the eyes of one sort of critics: but that +warmth of fancy will carry the loudest and most universal applauses which +holds the heart of a reader under the strongest enchantment. Homer not +only appears the inventor of poetry, but excels all the inventors of other +arts, in this, that he has swallowed up the honour of those who succeeded +him. What he has done admitted no increase, it only left room for +contraction or regulation. He showed all the stretch of fancy at once; and +if he has failed in some of his flights, it was but because he attempted +everything. A work of this kind seems like a mighty tree, which rises from +the most vigorous seed, is improved with industry, flourishes, and +produces the finest fruit: nature and art conspire to raise it; pleasure +and profit join to make it valuable: and they who find the justest faults, +have only said that a few branches which run luxuriant through a richness +of nature, might be lopped into form to give it a more regular appearance. + +Having now spoken of the beauties and defects of the original, it remains +to treat of the translation, with the same view to the chief +characteristic. As far as that is seen in the main parts of the poem, such +as the fable, manners, and sentiments, no translator can prejudice it but +by wilful omissions or contractions. As it also breaks out in every +particular image, description, and simile, whoever lessens or too much +softens those, takes off from this chief character. It is the first grand +duty of an interpreter to give his author entire and unmaimed; and for the +rest, the diction and versification only are his proper province, since +these must be his own, but the others he is to take as he finds them. + +It should then be considered what methods may afford some equivalent in +our language for the graces of these in the Greek. It is certain no +literal translation can be just to an excellent original in a superior +language: but it is a great mistake to imagine (as many have done) that a +rash paraphrase can make amends for this general defect; which is no less +in danger to lose the spirit of an ancient, by deviating into the modern +manners of expression. If there be sometimes a darkness, there is often a +light in antiquity, which nothing better preserves than a version almost +literal. I know no liberties one ought to take, but those which are +necessary to transfusing the spirit of the original, and supporting the +poetical style of the translation: and I will venture to say, there have +not been more men misled in former times by a servile, dull adherence to +the letter, than have been deluded in ours by a chimerical, insolent hope +of raising and improving their author. It is not to be doubted, that the +fire of the poem is what a translator should principally regard, as it is +most likely to expire in his managing: however, it is his safest way to be +content with preserving this to his utmost in the whole, without +endeavouring to be more than he finds his author is, in any particular +place. It is a great secret in writing, to know when to be plain, and when +poetical and figurative; and it is what Homer will teach us, if we will +but follow modestly in his footsteps. Where his diction is bold and lofty, +let us raise ours as high as we can; but where his is plain and humble, we +ought not to be deterred from imitating him by the fear of incurring the +censure of a mere English critic. Nothing that belongs to Homer seems to +have been more commonly mistaken than the just pitch of his style: some of +his translators having swelled into fustian in a proud confidence of the +sublime; others sunk into flatness, in a cold and timorous notion of +simplicity. Methinks I see these different followers of Homer, some +sweating and straining after him by violent leaps and bounds (the certain +signs of false mettle), others slowly and servilely creeping in his train, +while the poet himself is all the time proceeding with an unaffected and +equal majesty before them. However, of the two extremes one could sooner +pardon frenzy than frigidity; no author is to be envied for such +commendations, as he may gain by that character of style, which his +friends must agree together to call simplicity, and the rest of the world +will call dulness. There is a graceful and dignified simplicity, as well +as a bold and sordid one; which differ as much from each other as the air +of a plain man from that of a sloven: it is one thing to be tricked up, +and another not to be dressed at all. Simplicity is the mean between +ostentation and rusticity. + +This pure and noble simplicity is nowhere in such perfection as in the +Scripture and our author. One may affirm, with all respect to the inspired +writings, that the Divine Spirit made use of no other words but what were +intelligible and common to men at that time, and in that part of the +world; and, as Homer is the author nearest to those, his style must of +course bear a greater resemblance to the sacred books than that of any +other writer. This consideration (together with what has been observed of +the parity of some of his thoughts) may, methinks, induce a translator, on +the one hand, to give in to several of those general phrases and manners +of expression, which have attained a veneration even in our language from +being used in the Old Testament; as, on the other, to avoid those which +have been appropriated to the Divinity, and in a manner consigned to +mystery and religion. + +For a further preservation of this air of simplicity, a particular care +should be taken to express with all plainness those moral sentences and +proverbial speeches which are so numerous in this poet. They have +something venerable, and as I may say, oracular, in that unadorned gravity +and shortness with which they are delivered: a grace which would be +utterly lost by endeavouring to give them what we call a more ingenious +(that is, a more modern) turn in the paraphrase. + +Perhaps the mixture of some Graecisms and old words after the manner of +Milton, if done without too much affectation, might not have an ill effect +in a version of this particular work, which most of any other seems to +require a venerable, antique cast. But certainly the use of modern terms +of war and government, such as "platoon, campaign, junto," or the like, +(into which some of his translators have fallen) cannot be allowable; +those only excepted without which it is impossible to treat the subjects +in any living language. + +There are two peculiarities in Homer's diction, which are a sort of marks +or moles by which every common eye distinguishes him at first sight; those +who are not his greatest admirers look upon them as defects, and those who +are, seemed pleased with them as beauties. I speak of his compound +epithets, and of his repetitions. Many of the former cannot be done +literally into English without destroying the purity of our language. I +believe such should be retained as slide easily of themselves into an +English compound, without violence to the ear or to the received rules of +composition, as well as those which have received a sanction from the +authority of our best poets, and are become familiar through their use of +them; such as "the cloud-compelling Jove," &c. As for the rest, whenever +any can be as fully and significantly expressed in a single word as in a +compounded one, the course to be taken is obvious. + +Some that cannot be so turned, as to preserve their full image by one or +two words, may have justice done them by circumlocution; as the epithet +einosiphyllos to a mountain, would appear little or ridiculous translated +literally "leaf-shaking," but affords a majestic idea in the periphrasis: +"the lofty mountain shakes his waving woods." Others that admit of +different significations, may receive an advantage from a judicious +variation, according to the occasions on which they are introduced. For +example, the epithet of Apollo, hekaebolos or "far-shooting," is capable +of two explications; one literal, in respect of the darts and bow, the +ensigns of that god; the other allegorical, with regard to the rays of the +sun; therefore, in such places where Apollo is represented as a god in +person, I would use the former interpretation; and where the effects of +the sun are described, I would make choice of the latter. Upon the whole, +it will be necessary to avoid that perpetual repetition of the same +epithets which we find in Homer, and which, though it might be +accommodated (as has been already shown) to the ear of those times, is by +no means so to ours: but one may wait for opportunities of placing them, +where they derive an additional beauty from the occasions on which they +are employed; and in doing this properly, a translator may at once show +his fancy and his judgment. + +As for Homer's repetitions, we may divide them into three sorts: of whole +narrations and speeches, of single sentences, and of one verse or +hemistitch. I hope it is not impossible to have such a regard to these, as +neither to lose so known a mark of the author on the one hand, nor to +offend the reader too much on the other. The repetition is not ungraceful +in those speeches, where the dignity of the speaker renders it a sort of +insolence to alter his words; as in the messages from gods to men, or from +higher powers to inferiors in concerns of state, or where the ceremonial +of religion seems to require it, in the solemn forms of prayers, oaths, or +the like. In other cases, I believe the best rule is, to be guided by the +nearness, or distance, at which the repetitions are placed in the +original: when they follow too close, one may vary the expression; but it +is a question, whether a professed translator be authorized to omit any: +if they be tedious, the author is to answer for it. + +It only remains to speak of the versification. Homer (as has been said) is +perpetually applying the sound to the sense, and varying it on every new +subject. This is indeed one of the most exquisite beauties of poetry, and +attainable by very few: I only know of Homer eminent for it in the Greek, +and Virgil in the Latin. I am sensible it is what may sometimes happen by +chance, when a writer is warm, and fully possessed of his image: however, +it may reasonably be believed they designed this, in whose verse it so +manifestly appears in a superior degree to all others. Few readers have +the ear to be judges of it: but those who have, will see I have +endeavoured at this beauty. + +Upon the whole, I must confess myself utterly incapable of doing justice +to Homer. I attempt him in no other hope but that which one may entertain +without much vanity, of giving a more tolerable copy of him than any +entire translation in verse has yet done. We have only those of Chapman, +Hobbes, and Ogilby. Chapman has taken the advantage of an immeasurable +length of verse, notwithstanding which, there is scarce any paraphrase +more loose and rambling than his. He has frequent interpolations of four +or six lines; and I remember one in the thirteenth book of the Odyssey, +ver. 312, where he has spun twenty verses out of two. He is often mistaken +in so bold a manner, that one might think he deviated on purpose, if he +did not in other places of his notes insist so much upon verbal trifles. +He appears to have had a strong affectation of extracting new meanings out +of his author; insomuch as to promise, in his rhyming preface, a poem of +the mysteries he had revealed in Homer; and perhaps he endeavoured to +strain the obvious sense to this end. His expression is involved in +fustian; a fault for which he was remarkable in his original writings, as +in the tragedy of Bussy d'Amboise, &c. In a word, the nature of the man +may account for his whole performance; for he appears, from his preface +and remarks, to have been of an arrogant turn, and an enthusiast in +poetry. His own boast, of having finished half the Iliad in less than +fifteen weeks, shows with what negligence his version was performed. But +that which is to be allowed him, and which very much contributed to cover +his defects, is a daring fiery spirit that animates his translation, which +is something like what one might imagine Homer himself would have writ +before he arrived at years of discretion. + +Hobbes has given us a correct explanation of the sense in general; but for +particulars and circumstances he continually lops them, and often omits +the most beautiful. As for its being esteemed a close translation, I doubt +not many have been led into that error by the shortness of it, which +proceeds not from his following the original line by line, but from the +contractions above mentioned. He sometimes omits whole similes and +sentences; and is now and then guilty of mistakes, into which no writer of +his learning could have fallen, but through carelessness. His poetry, as +well as Ogilby's, is too mean for criticism. + +It is a great loss to the poetical world that Mr. Dryden did not live to +translate the Iliad. He has left us only the first book, and a small part +of the sixth; in which if he has in some places not truly interpreted the +sense, or preserved the antiquities, it ought to be excused on account of +the haste he was obliged to write in. He seems to have had too much regard +to Chapman, whose words he sometimes copies, and has unhappily followed +him in passages where he wanders from the original. However, had he +translated the whole work, I would no more have attempted Homer after him +than Virgil: his version of whom (notwithstanding some human errors) is +the most noble and spirited translation I know in any language. But the +fate of great geniuses is like that of great ministers: though they are +confessedly the first in the commonwealth of letters, they must be envied +and calumniated only for being at the head of it. + +That which, in my opinion, ought to be the endeavour of any one who +translates Homer, is above all things to keep alive that spirit and fire +which makes his chief character: in particular places, where the sense can +bear any doubt, to follow the strongest and most poetical, as most +agreeing with that character; to copy him in all the variations of his +style, and the different modulations of his numbers; to preserve, in the +more active or descriptive parts, a warmth and elevation; in the more +sedate or narrative, a plainness and solemnity; in the speeches, a fulness +and perspicuity; in the sentences, a shortness and gravity; not to neglect +even the little figures and turns on the words, nor sometimes the very +cast of the periods; neither to omit nor confound any rites or customs of +antiquity: perhaps too he ought to include the whole in a shorter compass +than has hitherto been done by any translator who has tolerably preserved +either the sense or poetry. What I would further recommend to him is, to +study his author rather from his own text, than from any commentaries, how +learned soever, or whatever figure they may make in the estimation of the +world; to consider him attentively in comparison with Virgil above all the +ancients, and with Milton above all the moderns. Next these, the +Archbishop of Cambray's Telemachus may give him the truest idea of the +spirit and turn of our author; and Bossu's admirable Treatise of the Epic +Poem the justest notion of his design and conduct. But after all, with +whatever judgment and study a man may proceed, or with whatever happiness +he may perform such a work, he must hope to please but a few; those only +who have at once a taste of poetry, and competent learning. For to satisfy +such a want either, is not in the nature of this undertaking; since a mere +modern wit can like nothing that is not modern, and a pedant nothing that +is not Greek. + +What I have done is submitted to the public; from whose opinions I am +prepared to learn; though I fear no judges so little as our best poets, +who are most sensible of the weight of this task. As for the worst, +whatever they shall please to say, they may give me some concern as they +are unhappy men, but none as they are malignant writers. I was guided in +this translation by judgments very different from theirs, and by persons +for whom they can have no kindness, if an old observation be true, that +the strongest antipathy in the world is that of fools to men of wit. Mr. +Addison was the first whose advice determined me to undertake this task; +who was pleased to write to me upon that occasion in such terms as I +cannot repeat without vanity. I was obliged to Sir Richard Steele for a +very early recommendation of my undertaking to the public. Dr. Swift +promoted my interest with that warmth with which he always serves his +friend. The humanity and frankness of Sir Samuel Garth are what I never +knew wanting on any occasion. I must also acknowledge, with infinite +pleasure, the many friendly offices, as well as sincere criticisms, of Mr. +Congreve, who had led me the way in translating some parts of Homer. I +must add the names of Mr. Rowe, and Dr. Parnell, though I shall take a +further opportunity of doing justice to the last, whose good nature (to +give it a great panegyric), is no less extensive than his learning. The +favour of these gentlemen is not entirely undeserved by one who bears them +so true an affection. But what can I say of the honour so many of the +great have done me; while the first names of the age appear as my +subscribers, and the most distinguished patrons and ornaments of learning +as my chief encouragers? Among these it is a particular pleasure to me to +find, that my highest obligations are to such who have done most honour to +the name of poet: that his grace the Duke of Buckingham was not displeased +I should undertake the author to whom he has given (in his excellent +Essay), so complete a praise: + + "Read Homer once, and you can read no more; + For all books else appear so mean, so poor, + Verse will seem prose: but still persist to read, + And Homer will be all the books you need." + +That the Earl of Halifax was one of the first to favour me; of whom it is +hard to say whether the advancement of the polite arts is more owing to +his generosity or his example: that such a genius as my Lord Bolingbroke, +not more distinguished in the great scenes of business, than in all the +useful and entertaining parts of learning, has not refused to be the +critic of these sheets, and the patron of their writer: and that the noble +author of the tragedy of "Heroic Love" has continued his partiality to me, +from my writing pastorals to my attempting the Iliad. I cannot deny myself +the pride of confessing, that I have had the advantage not only of their +advice for the conduct in general, but their correction of several +particulars of this translation. + +I could say a great deal of the pleasure of being distinguished by the +Earl of Carnarvon; but it is almost absurd to particularize any one +generous action in a person whose whole life is a continued series of +them. Mr. Stanhope, the present secretary of state, will pardon my desire +of having it known that he was pleased to promote this affair. The +particular zeal of Mr. Harcourt (the son of the late Lord Chancellor) gave +me a proof how much I am honoured in a share of his friendship. I must +attribute to the same motive that of several others of my friends: to whom +all acknowledgments are rendered unnecessary by the privileges of a +familiar correspondence; and I am satisfied I can no way better oblige men +of their turn than by my silence. + +In short, I have found more patrons than ever Homer wanted. He would have +thought himself happy to have met the same favour at Athens that has been +shown me by its learned rival, the University of Oxford. And I can hardly +envy him those pompous honours he received after death, when I reflect on +the enjoyment of so many agreeable obligations, and easy friendships, +which make the satisfaction of life. This distinction is the more to be +acknowledged, as it is shown to one whose pen has never gratified the +prejudices of particular parties, or the vanities of particular men. +Whatever the success may prove, I shall never repent of an undertaking in +which I have experienced the candour and friendship of so many persons of +merit; and in which I hope to pass some of those years of youth that are +generally lost in a circle of follies, after a manner neither wholly +unuseful to others, nor disagreeable to myself. + + + + + + +THE ILIAD. + + + + + +BOOK I. + + +ARGUMENT.(40) + +THE CONTENTION OF ACHILLES AND AGAMEMNON. + +In the war of Troy, the Greeks having sacked some of the neighbouring +towns, and taken from thence two beautiful captives, Chryseis and Briseis, +allotted the first to Agamemnon, and the last to Achilles. Chryses, the +father of Chryseis, and priest of Apollo, comes to the Grecian camp to +ransom her; with which the action of the poem opens, in the tenth year of +the siege. The priest being refused, and insolently dismissed by +Agamemnon, entreats for vengeance from his god; who inflicts a pestilence +on the Greeks. Achilles calls a council, and encourages Chalcas to declare +the cause of it; who attributes it to the refusal of Chryseis. The king, +being obliged to send back his captive, enters into a furious contest with +Achilles, which Nestor pacifies; however, as he had the absolute command +of the army, he seizes on Briseis in revenge. Achilles in discontent +withdraws himself and his forces from the rest of the Greeks; and +complaining to Thetis, she supplicates Jupiter to render them sensible of +the wrong done to her son, by giving victory to the Trojans. Jupiter, +granting her suit, incenses Juno: between whom the debate runs high, till +they are reconciled by the address of Vulcan. + +The time of two-and-twenty days is taken up in this book: nine during the +plague, one in the council and quarrel of the princes, and twelve for +Jupiter's stay with the AEthiopians, at whose return Thetis prefers her +petition. The scene lies in the Grecian camp, then changes to Chrysa, and +lastly to Olympus. + + Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring + Of woes unnumber'd, heavenly goddess, sing! + That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign + The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain; + Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore, + Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore.(41) + Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, + Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove!(42) + + Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated hour(43) + Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power + Latona's son a dire contagion spread,(44) + And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead; + The king of men his reverent priest defied,(45) + And for the king's offence the people died. + + For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain + His captive daughter from the victor's chain. + Suppliant the venerable father stands; + Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands + By these he begs; and lowly bending down, + Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown + He sued to all, but chief implored for grace + The brother-kings, of Atreus' royal race(46) + + "Ye kings and warriors! may your vows be crown'd, + And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground. + May Jove restore you when your toils are o'er + Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. + But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain, + And give Chryseis to these arms again; + If mercy fail, yet let my presents move, + And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove." + + The Greeks in shouts their joint assent declare, + The priest to reverence, and release the fair. + Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride, + Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied: + + "Hence on thy life, and fly these hostile plains, + Nor ask, presumptuous, what the king detains + Hence, with thy laurel crown, and golden rod, + Nor trust too far those ensigns of thy god. + Mine is thy daughter, priest, and shall remain; + And prayers, and tears, and bribes, shall plead in vain; + Till time shall rifle every youthful grace, + And age dismiss her from my cold embrace, + In daily labours of the loom employ'd, + Or doom'd to deck the bed she once enjoy'd + Hence then; to Argos shall the maid retire, + Far from her native soil and weeping sire." + + [Illustration: HOMER INVOKING THE MUSE.] + + HOMER INVOKING THE MUSE. + + + The trembling priest along the shore return'd, + And in the anguish of a father mourn'd. + Disconsolate, not daring to complain, + Silent he wander'd by the sounding main; + Till, safe at distance, to his god he prays, + The god who darts around the world his rays. + + "O Smintheus! sprung from fair Latona's line,(47) + Thou guardian power of Cilla the divine,(48) + Thou source of light! whom Tenedos adores, + And whose bright presence gilds thy Chrysa's shores. + If e'er with wreaths I hung thy sacred fane,(49) + Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain; + God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ, + Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy." + + Thus Chryses pray'd.--the favouring power attends, + And from Olympus' lofty tops descends. + Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound;(50) + Fierce as he moved, his silver shafts resound. + Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread, + And gloomy darkness roll'd about his head. + The fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow, + And hissing fly the feather'd fates below. + On mules and dogs the infection first began;(51) + And last, the vengeful arrows fix'd in man. + For nine long nights, through all the dusky air, + The pyres, thick-flaming, shot a dismal glare. + But ere the tenth revolving day was run, + Inspired by Juno, Thetis' godlike son + Convened to council all the Grecian train; + For much the goddess mourn'd her heroes slain.(52) + The assembly seated, rising o'er the rest, + Achilles thus the king of men address'd: + + "Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore, + And measure back the seas we cross'd before? + The plague destroying whom the sword would spare, + 'Tis time to save the few remains of war. + But let some prophet, or some sacred sage, + Explore the cause of great Apollo's rage; + Or learn the wasteful vengeance to remove + By mystic dreams, for dreams descend from Jove.(53) + If broken vows this heavy curse have laid, + Let altars smoke, and hecatombs be paid. + So Heaven, atoned, shall dying Greece restore, + And Phoebus dart his burning shafts no more." + + He said, and sat: when Chalcas thus replied; + Chalcas the wise, the Grecian priest and guide, + That sacred seer, whose comprehensive view, + The past, the present, and the future knew: + Uprising slow, the venerable sage + Thus spoke the prudence and the fears of age: + + "Beloved of Jove, Achilles! would'st thou know + Why angry Phoebus bends his fatal bow? + First give thy faith, and plight a prince's word + Of sure protection, by thy power and sword: + For I must speak what wisdom would conceal, + And truths, invidious to the great, reveal, + Bold is the task, when subjects, grown too wise, + Instruct a monarch where his error lies; + For though we deem the short-lived fury past, + 'Tis sure the mighty will revenge at last." + To whom Pelides:--"From thy inmost soul + Speak what thou know'st, and speak without control. + E'en by that god I swear who rules the day, + To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey. + And whose bless'd oracles thy lips declare; + Long as Achilles breathes this vital air, + No daring Greek, of all the numerous band, + Against his priest shall lift an impious hand; + Not e'en the chief by whom our hosts are led, + The king of kings, shall touch that sacred head." + + Encouraged thus, the blameless man replies: + "Nor vows unpaid, nor slighted sacrifice, + But he, our chief, provoked the raging pest, + Apollo's vengeance for his injured priest. + Nor will the god's awaken'd fury cease, + But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase, + Till the great king, without a ransom paid, + To her own Chrysa send the black-eyed maid.(54) + Perhaps, with added sacrifice and prayer, + The priest may pardon, and the god may spare." + + The prophet spoke: when with a gloomy frown + The monarch started from his shining throne; + Black choler fill'd his breast that boil'd with ire, + And from his eye-balls flash'd the living fire: + "Augur accursed! denouncing mischief still, + Prophet of plagues, for ever boding ill! + Still must that tongue some wounding message bring, + And still thy priestly pride provoke thy king? + For this are Phoebus' oracles explored, + To teach the Greeks to murmur at their lord? + For this with falsehood is my honour stain'd, + Is heaven offended, and a priest profaned; + Because my prize, my beauteous maid, I hold, + And heavenly charms prefer to proffer'd gold? + A maid, unmatch'd in manners as in face, + Skill'd in each art, and crown'd with every grace; + Not half so dear were Clytaemnestra's charms, + When first her blooming beauties bless'd my arms. + Yet, if the gods demand her, let her sail; + Our cares are only for the public weal: + Let me be deem'd the hateful cause of all, + And suffer, rather than my people fall. + The prize, the beauteous prize, I will resign, + So dearly valued, and so justly mine. + But since for common good I yield the fair, + My private loss let grateful Greece repair; + Nor unrewarded let your prince complain, + That he alone has fought and bled in vain." + "Insatiate king (Achilles thus replies), + Fond of the power, but fonder of the prize! + Would'st thou the Greeks their lawful prey should yield, + The due reward of many a well-fought field? + + The spoils of cities razed and warriors slain, + We share with justice, as with toil we gain; + But to resume whate'er thy avarice craves + (That trick of tyrants) may be borne by slaves. + Yet if our chief for plunder only fight, + The spoils of Ilion shall thy loss requite, + Whene'er, by Jove's decree, our conquering powers + Shall humble to the dust her lofty towers." + + Then thus the king: "Shall I my prize resign + With tame content, and thou possess'd of thine? + Great as thou art, and like a god in fight, + Think not to rob me of a soldier's right. + At thy demand shall I restore the maid? + First let the just equivalent be paid; + Such as a king might ask; and let it be + A treasure worthy her, and worthy me. + Or grant me this, or with a monarch's claim + This hand shall seize some other captive dame. + The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign;(55) + Ulysses' spoils, or even thy own, be mine. + The man who suffers, loudly may complain; + And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain. + But this when time requires.--It now remains + We launch a bark to plough the watery plains, + And waft the sacrifice to Chrysa's shores, + With chosen pilots, and with labouring oars. + Soon shall the fair the sable ship ascend, + And some deputed prince the charge attend: + This Creta's king, or Ajax shall fulfil, + Or wise Ulysses see perform'd our will; + Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain, + Achilles' self conduct her o'er the main; + Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage, + The god propitiate, and the pest assuage." + + [Illustration: MARS.] + + MARS. + + + At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied: + "O tyrant, arm'd with insolence and pride! + Inglorious slave to interest, ever join'd + With fraud, unworthy of a royal mind! + What generous Greek, obedient to thy word, + Shall form an ambush, or shall lift the sword? + What cause have I to war at thy decree? + The distant Trojans never injured me; + To Phthia's realms no hostile troops they led: + Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed; + Far hence removed, the hoarse-resounding main, + And walls of rocks, secure my native reign, + Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace, + Rich in her fruits, and in her martial race. + Hither we sail'd, a voluntary throng, + To avenge a private, not a public wrong: + What else to Troy the assembled nations draws, + But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's cause? + Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve; + Disgraced and injured by the man we serve? + And darest thou threat to snatch my prize away, + Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day? + A prize as small, O tyrant! match'd with thine, + As thy own actions if compared to mine. + Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey, + Though mine the sweat and danger of the day. + Some trivial present to my ships I bear: + Or barren praises pay the wounds of war. + But know, proud monarch, I'm thy slave no more; + My fleet shall waft me to Thessalia's shore: + Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain, + What spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides gain?" + + To this the king: "Fly, mighty warrior! fly; + Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy. + There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight, + And Jove himself shall guard a monarch's right. + Of all the kings (the god's distinguish'd care) + To power superior none such hatred bear: + Strife and debate thy restless soul employ, + And wars and horrors are thy savage joy, + If thou hast strength, 'twas Heaven that strength bestow'd; + For know, vain man! thy valour is from God. + Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away; + Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway; + I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate + Thy short-lived friendship, and thy groundless hate. + Go, threat thy earth-born Myrmidons:--but here(56) + 'Tis mine to threaten, prince, and thine to fear. + Know, if the god the beauteous dame demand, + My bark shall waft her to her native land; + But then prepare, imperious prince! prepare, + Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair: + Even in thy tent I'll seize the blooming prize, + Thy loved Briseis with the radiant eyes. + Hence shalt thou prove my might, and curse the hour + Thou stood'st a rival of imperial power; + And hence, to all our hosts it shall be known, + That kings are subject to the gods alone." + + Achilles heard, with grief and rage oppress'd, + His heart swell'd high, and labour'd in his breast; + Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom ruled; + Now fired by wrath, and now by reason cool'd: + That prompts his hand to draw the deadly sword, + Force through the Greeks, and pierce their haughty lord; + This whispers soft his vengeance to control, + And calm the rising tempest of his soul. + Just as in anguish of suspense he stay'd, + While half unsheathed appear'd the glittering blade,(57) + Minerva swift descended from above, + Sent by the sister and the wife of Jove + (For both the princes claim'd her equal care); + Behind she stood, and by the golden hair + Achilles seized; to him alone confess'd; + A sable cloud conceal'd her from the rest. + He sees, and sudden to the goddess cries, + Known by the flames that sparkle from her eyes: + + [Illustration: MINERVA REPRESSING THE FURY OF ACHILLES.] + + MINERVA REPRESSING THE FURY OF ACHILLES. + + + "Descends Minerva, in her guardian care, + A heavenly witness of the wrongs I bear + From Atreus' son?--Then let those eyes that view + The daring crime, behold the vengeance too." + + "Forbear (the progeny of Jove replies) + To calm thy fury I forsake the skies: + Let great Achilles, to the gods resign'd, + To reason yield the empire o'er his mind. + By awful Juno this command is given; + The king and you are both the care of heaven. + The force of keen reproaches let him feel; + But sheathe, obedient, thy revenging steel. + For I pronounce (and trust a heavenly power) + Thy injured honour has its fated hour, + When the proud monarch shall thy arms implores + And bribe thy friendship with a boundless store. + Then let revenge no longer bear the sway; + Command thy passions, and the gods obey." + + To her Pelides:--"With regardful ear, + 'Tis just, O goddess! I thy dictates hear. + Hard as it is, my vengeance I suppress: + Those who revere the gods the gods will bless." + He said, observant of the blue-eyed maid; + Then in the sheath return'd the shining blade. + The goddess swift to high Olympus flies, + And joins the sacred senate of the skies. + + Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forsook, + Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke: + "O monster! mix'd of insolence and fear, + Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer! + When wert thou known in ambush'd fights to dare, + Or nobly face the horrid front of war? + 'Tis ours, the chance of fighting fields to try; + Thine to look on, and bid the valiant die: + So much 'tis safer through the camp to go, + And rob a subject, than despoil a foe. + Scourge of thy people, violent and base! + Sent in Jove's anger on a slavish race; + Who, lost to sense of generous freedom past, + Are tamed to wrongs;--or this had been thy last. + Now by this sacred sceptre hear me swear, + Which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear, + Which sever'd from the trunk (as I from thee) + On the bare mountains left its parent tree; + This sceptre, form'd by temper'd steel to prove + An ensign of the delegates of Jove, + From whom the power of laws and justice springs + (Tremendous oath! inviolate to kings); + By this I swear:--when bleeding Greece again + Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain. + When, flush'd with slaughter, Hector comes to spread + The purpled shore with mountains of the dead, + Then shall thou mourn the affront thy madness gave, + Forced to deplore when impotent to save: + Then rage in bitterness of soul to know + This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe." + + He spoke; and furious hurl'd against the ground + His sceptre starr'd with golden studs around: + Then sternly silent sat. With like disdain + The raging king return'd his frowns again. + + To calm their passion with the words of age, + Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage, + Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skill'd; + Words, sweet as honey, from his lips distill'd:(58) + Two generations now had pass'd away, + Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway; + Two ages o'er his native realm he reign'd, + And now the example of the third remain'd. + All view'd with awe the venerable man; + Who thus with mild benevolence began:-- + + "What shame, what woe is this to Greece! what joy + To Troy's proud monarch, and the friends of Troy! + That adverse gods commit to stern debate + The best, the bravest, of the Grecian state. + Young as ye are, this youthful heat restrain, + Nor think your Nestor's years and wisdom vain. + A godlike race of heroes once I knew, + Such as no more these aged eyes shall view! + Lives there a chief to match Pirithous' fame, + Dryas the bold, or Ceneus' deathless name; + Theseus, endued with more than mortal might, + Or Polyphemus, like the gods in fight? + With these of old, to toils of battle bred, + In early youth my hardy days I led; + Fired with the thirst which virtuous envy breeds, + And smit with love of honourable deeds, + Strongest of men, they pierced the mountain boar, + Ranged the wild deserts red with monsters' gore, + And from their hills the shaggy Centaurs tore: + Yet these with soft persuasive arts I sway'd; + When Nestor spoke, they listen'd and obey'd. + If in my youth, even these esteem'd me wise; + Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise. + Atrides, seize not on the beauteous slave; + That prize the Greeks by common suffrage gave: + Nor thou, Achilles, treat our prince with pride; + Let kings be just, and sovereign power preside. + Thee, the first honours of the war adorn, + Like gods in strength, and of a goddess born; + Him, awful majesty exalts above + The powers of earth, and sceptred sons of Jove. + Let both unite with well-consenting mind, + So shall authority with strength be join'd. + Leave me, O king! to calm Achilles' rage; + Rule thou thyself, as more advanced in age. + Forbid it, gods! Achilles should be lost, + The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our host." + + This said, he ceased. The king of men replies: + "Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise. + But that imperious, that unconquer'd soul, + No laws can limit, no respect control. + Before his pride must his superiors fall; + His word the law, and he the lord of all? + Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself obey? + What king can bear a rival in his sway? + Grant that the gods his matchless force have given; + Has foul reproach a privilege from heaven?" + + Here on the monarch's speech Achilles broke, + And furious, thus, and interrupting spoke: + "Tyrant, I well deserved thy galling chain, + To live thy slave, and still to serve in vain, + Should I submit to each unjust decree:-- + Command thy vassals, but command not me. + Seize on Briseis, whom the Grecians doom'd + My prize of war, yet tamely see resumed; + And seize secure; no more Achilles draws + His conquering sword in any woman's cause. + The gods command me to forgive the past: + But let this first invasion be the last: + For know, thy blood, when next thou darest invade, + Shall stream in vengeance on my reeking blade." + + At this they ceased: the stern debate expired: + The chiefs in sullen majesty retired. + + Achilles with Patroclus took his way + Where near his tents his hollow vessels lay. + Meantime Atrides launch'd with numerous oars + A well-rigg'd ship for Chrysa's sacred shores: + High on the deck was fair Chryseis placed, + And sage Ulysses with the conduct graced: + Safe in her sides the hecatomb they stow'd, + Then swiftly sailing, cut the liquid road. + + The host to expiate next the king prepares, + With pure lustrations, and with solemn prayers. + Wash'd by the briny wave, the pious train(59) + Are cleansed; and cast the ablutions in the main. + Along the shore whole hecatombs were laid, + And bulls and goats to Phoebus' altars paid; + The sable fumes in curling spires arise, + And waft their grateful odours to the skies. + + The army thus in sacred rites engaged, + Atrides still with deep resentment raged. + To wait his will two sacred heralds stood, + Talthybius and Eurybates the good. + "Haste to the fierce Achilles' tent (he cries), + Thence bear Briseis as our royal prize: + Submit he must; or if they will not part, + Ourself in arms shall tear her from his heart." + + The unwilling heralds act their lord's commands; + Pensive they walk along the barren sands: + Arrived, the hero in his tent they find, + With gloomy aspect on his arm reclined. + At awful distance long they silent stand, + Loth to advance, and speak their hard command; + Decent confusion! This the godlike man + Perceived, and thus with accent mild began: + + "With leave and honour enter our abodes, + Ye sacred ministers of men and gods!(60) + I know your message; by constraint you came; + Not you, but your imperious lord I blame. + Patroclus, haste, the fair Briseis bring; + Conduct my captive to the haughty king. + But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow, + Witness to gods above, and men below! + But first, and loudest, to your prince declare + (That lawless tyrant whose commands you bear), + Unmoved as death Achilles shall remain, + Though prostrate Greece shall bleed at every vein: + The raging chief in frantic passion lost, + Blind to himself, and useless to his host, + Unskill'd to judge the future by the past, + In blood and slaughter shall repent at last." + + [Illustration: THE DEPARTURE OF BRISEIS FROM THE TENT OF ACHILLES.] + + THE DEPARTURE OF BRISEIS FROM THE TENT OF ACHILLES. + + + Patroclus now the unwilling beauty brought; + She, in soft sorrows, and in pensive thought, + Pass'd silent, as the heralds held her hand, + And of look'd back, slow-moving o'er the strand. + Not so his loss the fierce Achilles bore; + But sad, retiring to the sounding shore, + O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung, + That kindred deep from whence his mother sprung:(61) + There bathed in tears of anger and disdain, + Thus loud lamented to the stormy main: + + "O parent goddess! since in early bloom + Thy son must fall, by too severe a doom; + Sure to so short a race of glory born, + Great Jove in justice should this span adorn: + Honour and fame at least the thunderer owed; + And ill he pays the promise of a god, + If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies, + Obscures my glories, and resumes my prize." + + Far from the deep recesses of the main, + Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign, + The goddess-mother heard. The waves divide; + And like a mist she rose above the tide; + Beheld him mourning on the naked shores, + And thus the sorrows of his soul explores. + "Why grieves my son? Thy anguish let me share; + Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's care." + + He deeply sighing said: "To tell my woe + Is but to mention what too well you know. + From Thebe, sacred to Apollo's name(62) + (Aetion's realm), our conquering army came, + With treasure loaded and triumphant spoils, + Whose just division crown'd the soldier's toils; + But bright Chryseis, heavenly prize! was led, + By vote selected, to the general's bed. + The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to gain + His beauteous daughter from the victor's chain; + The fleet he reach'd, and, lowly bending down, + Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown, + Intreating all; but chief implored for grace + The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race: + The generous Greeks their joint consent declare, + The priest to reverence, and release the fair; + Not so Atrides: he, with wonted pride, + The sire insulted, and his gifts denied: + The insulted sire (his god's peculiar care) + To Phoebus pray'd, and Phoebus heard the prayer: + A dreadful plague ensues: the avenging darts + Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts. + A prophet then, inspired by heaven, arose, + And points the crime, and thence derives the woes: + Myself the first the assembled chiefs incline + To avert the vengeance of the power divine; + Then rising in his wrath, the monarch storm'd; + Incensed he threaten'd, and his threats perform'd: + The fair Chryseis to her sire was sent, + With offer'd gifts to make the god relent; + But now he seized Briseis' heavenly charms, + And of my valour's prize defrauds my arms, + Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train;(63) + And service, faith, and justice, plead in vain. + But, goddess! thou thy suppliant son attend. + To high Olympus' shining court ascend, + Urge all the ties to former service owed, + And sue for vengeance to the thundering god. + Oft hast thou triumph'd in the glorious boast, + That thou stood'st forth of all the ethereal host, + When bold rebellion shook the realms above, + The undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove: + When the bright partner of his awful reign, + The warlike maid, and monarch of the main, + The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driven, + Durst threat with chains the omnipotence of Heaven. + Then, call'd by thee, the monster Titan came + (Whom gods Briareus, men AEgeon name), + Through wondering skies enormous stalk'd along; + Not he that shakes the solid earth so strong: + With giant-pride at Jove's high throne he stands, + And brandish'd round him all his hundred hands: + The affrighted gods confess'd their awful lord, + They dropp'd the fetters, trembled, and adored.(64) + This, goddess, this to his remembrance call, + Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall; + Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train, + To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main, + To heap the shores with copious death, and bring + The Greeks to know the curse of such a king. + Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head + O'er all his wide dominion of the dead, + And mourn in blood that e'er he durst disgrace + The boldest warrior of the Grecian race." + + [Illustration: THETIS CALLING BRIAREUS TO THE ASSISTANCE OF JUPITER.] + + THETIS CALLING BRIAREUS TO THE ASSISTANCE OF JUPITER. + + + "Unhappy son! (fair Thetis thus replies, + While tears celestial trickle from her eyes) + Why have I borne thee with a mother's throes, + To Fates averse, and nursed for future woes?(65) + So short a space the light of heaven to view! + So short a space! and fill'd with sorrow too! + O might a parent's careful wish prevail, + Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail, + And thou, from camps remote, the danger shun + Which now, alas! too nearly threats my son. + Yet (what I can) to move thy suit I'll go + To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy snow. + Meantime, secure within thy ships, from far + Behold the field, not mingle in the war. + The sire of gods and all the ethereal train, + On the warm limits of the farthest main, + Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace + The feasts of AEthiopia's blameless race,(66) + Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite, + Returning with the twelfth revolving light. + Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move + The high tribunal of immortal Jove." + + The goddess spoke: the rolling waves unclose; + Then down the steep she plunged from whence she rose, + And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast, + In wild resentment for the fair he lost. + + In Chrysa's port now sage Ulysses rode; + Beneath the deck the destined victims stow'd: + The sails they furl'd, they lash the mast aside, + And dropp'd their anchors, and the pinnace tied. + Next on the shore their hecatomb they land; + Chryseis last descending on the strand. + Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main, + Ulysses led to Phoebus' sacred fane; + Where at his solemn altar, as the maid + He gave to Chryses, thus the hero said: + + "Hail, reverend priest! to Phoebus' awful dome + A suppliant I from great Atrides come: + Unransom'd, here receive the spotless fair; + Accept the hecatomb the Greeks prepare; + And may thy god who scatters darts around, + Atoned by sacrifice, desist to wound."(67) + + At this, the sire embraced the maid again, + So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain. + Then near the altar of the darting king, + Disposed in rank their hecatomb they bring; + With water purify their hands, and take + The sacred offering of the salted cake; + While thus with arms devoutly raised in air, + And solemn voice, the priest directs his prayer: + + "God of the silver bow, thy ear incline, + Whose power incircles Cilla the divine; + Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys, + And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguish'd rays! + If, fired to vengeance at thy priest's request, + Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest: + Once more attend! avert the wasteful woe, + And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow." + + So Chryses pray'd. Apollo heard his prayer: + And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare; + Between their horns the salted barley threw, + And, with their heads to heaven, the victims slew:(68) + The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide; + The thighs, selected to the gods, divide: + On these, in double cauls involved with art, + The choicest morsels lay from every part. + The priest himself before his altar stands, + And burns the offering with his holy hands. + Pours the black wine, and sees the flames aspire; + The youth with instruments surround the fire: + The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dress'd, + The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest: + Then spread the tables, the repast prepare; + Each takes his seat, and each receives his share. + When now the rage of hunger was repress'd, + With pure libations they conclude the feast; + The youths with wine the copious goblets crown'd, + And, pleased, dispense the flowing bowls around;(69) + With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends, + The paeans lengthen'd till the sun descends: + The Greeks, restored, the grateful notes prolong; + Apollo listens, and approves the song. + + 'Twas night; the chiefs beside their vessel lie, + Till rosy morn had purpled o'er the sky: + Then launch, and hoist the mast: indulgent gales, + Supplied by Phoebus, fill the swelling sails; + The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow, + The parted ocean foams and roars below: + Above the bounding billows swift they flew, + Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in view. + Far on the beach they haul their bark to land, + (The crooked keel divides the yellow sand,) + Then part, where stretch'd along the winding bay, + The ships and tents in mingled prospect lay. + + But raging still, amidst his navy sat + The stern Achilles, stedfast in his hate; + Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd; + But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind: + In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll, + And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his soul. + + Twelve days were past, and now the dawning light + The gods had summon'd to the Olympian height: + Jove, first ascending from the watery bowers, + Leads the long order of ethereal powers. + When, like the morning-mist in early day, + Rose from the flood the daughter of the sea: + And to the seats divine her flight address'd. + There, far apart, and high above the rest, + The thunderer sat; where old Olympus shrouds + His hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds. + Suppliant the goddess stood: one hand she placed + Beneath his beard, and one his knees embraced. + "If e'er, O father of the gods! (she said) + My words could please thee, or my actions aid, + Some marks of honour on my son bestow, + And pay in glory what in life you owe. + Fame is at least by heavenly promise due + To life so short, and now dishonour'd too. + Avenge this wrong, O ever just and wise! + Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise; + Till the proud king and all the Achaian race + Shall heap with honours him they now disgrace." + + [Illustration: THETIS ENTREATING JUPITER TO HONOUR ACHILLES.] + + THETIS ENTREATING JUPITER TO HONOUR ACHILLES. + + + Thus Thetis spoke; but Jove in silence held + The sacred counsels of his breast conceal'd. + Not so repulsed, the goddess closer press'd, + Still grasp'd his knees, and urged the dear request. + "O sire of gods and men! thy suppliant hear; + Refuse, or grant; for what has Jove to fear? + Or oh! declare, of all the powers above, + Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove?" + + She said; and, sighing, thus the god replies, + Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted skies: + + "What hast thou ask'd? ah, why should Jove engage + In foreign contests and domestic rage, + The gods' complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms, + While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms? + Go, lest the haughty partner of my sway + With jealous eyes thy close access survey; + But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped: + Witness the sacred honours of our head, + The nod that ratifies the will divine, + The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable sign; + This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy vows--" + He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows,(70) + Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod, + The stamp of fate and sanction of the god: + High heaven with trembling the dread signal took, + And all Olympus to the centre shook.(71) + + Swift to the seas profound the goddess flies, + Jove to his starry mansions in the skies. + The shining synod of the immortals wait + The coming god, and from their thrones of state + Arising silent, wrapp'd in holy fear, + Before the majesty of heaven appear. + Trembling they stand, while Jove assumes the throne, + All, but the god's imperious queen alone: + Late had she view'd the silver-footed dame, + And all her passions kindled into flame. + "Say, artful manager of heaven (she cries), + Who now partakes the secrets of the skies? + Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate, + In vain the partner of imperial state. + What favourite goddess then those cares divides, + Which Jove in prudence from his consort hides?" + + To this the thunderer: "Seek not thou to find + The sacred counsels of almighty mind: + Involved in darkness likes the great decree, + Nor can the depths of fate be pierced by thee. + What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shalt know; + The first of gods above, and men below; + But thou, nor they, shall search the thoughts that roll + Deep in the close recesses of my soul." + + Full on the sire the goddess of the skies + Roll'd the large orbs of her majestic eyes, + And thus return'd:--"Austere Saturnius, say, + From whence this wrath, or who controls thy sway? + Thy boundless will, for me, remains in force, + And all thy counsels take the destined course. + But 'tis for Greece I fear: for late was seen, + In close consult, the silver-footed queen. + Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny, + Nor was the signal vain that shook the sky. + What fatal favour has the goddess won, + To grace her fierce, inexorable son? + Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the plain, + And glut his vengeance with my people slain." + + Then thus the god: "O restless fate of pride, + That strives to learn what heaven resolves to hide; + Vain is the search, presumptuous and abhorr'd, + Anxious to thee, and odious to thy lord. + Let this suffice: the immutable decree + No force can shake: what is, that ought to be. + Goddess, submit; nor dare our will withstand, + But dread the power of this avenging hand: + The united strength of all the gods above + In vain resists the omnipotence of Jove." + + [Illustration: VULCAN.] + + VULCAN. + + + The thunderer spoke, nor durst the queen reply; + A reverent horror silenced all the sky. + The feast disturb'd, with sorrow Vulcan saw + His mother menaced, and the gods in awe; + Peace at his heart, and pleasure his design, + Thus interposed the architect divine: + "The wretched quarrels of the mortal state + Are far unworthy, gods! of your debate: + Let men their days in senseless strife employ, + We, in eternal peace and constant joy. + Thou, goddess-mother, with our sire comply, + Nor break the sacred union of the sky: + Lest, roused to rage, he shake the bless'd abodes, + Launch the red lightning, and dethrone the gods. + If you submit, the thunderer stands appeased; + The gracious power is willing to be pleased." + + Thus Vulcan spoke: and rising with a bound, + The double bowl with sparkling nectar crown'd,(72) + Which held to Juno in a cheerful way, + "Goddess (he cried), be patient and obey. + Dear as you are, if Jove his arm extend, + I can but grieve, unable to defend + What god so daring in your aid to move, + Or lift his hand against the force of Jove? + Once in your cause I felt his matchless might, + Hurl'd headlong down from the ethereal height;(73) + Toss'd all the day in rapid circles round, + Nor till the sun descended touch'd the ground. + Breathless I fell, in giddy motion lost; + The Sinthians raised me on the Lemnian coast;(74) + + He said, and to her hands the goblet heaved, + Which, with a smile, the white-arm'd queen received + Then, to the rest he fill'd; and in his turn, + Each to his lips applied the nectar'd urn, + Vulcan with awkward grace his office plies, + And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the skies. + + Thus the blest gods the genial day prolong, + In feasts ambrosial, and celestial song.(75) + Apollo tuned the lyre; the Muses round + With voice alternate aid the silver sound. + Meantime the radiant sun to mortal sight + Descending swift, roll'd down the rapid light: + Then to their starry domes the gods depart, + The shining monuments of Vulcan's art: + Jove on his couch reclined his awful head, + And Juno slumber'd on the golden bed. + + [Illustration: JUPITER.] + + JUPITER. + + + [Illustration: THE APOTHEOSIS OF HOMER.] + + THE APOTHEOSIS OF HOMER. + + + + + +BOOK II. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE TRIAL OF THE ARMY, AND CATALOGUE OF THE FORCES. + +Jupiter, in pursuance of the request of Thetis, sends a deceitful vision +to Agamemnon, persuading him to lead the army to battle, in order to make +the Greeks sensible of their want of Achilles. The general, who is deluded +with the hopes of taking Troy without his assistance, but fears the army +was discouraged by his absence, and the late plague, as well as by the +length of time, contrives to make trial of their disposition by a +stratagem. He first communicates his design to the princes in council, +that he would propose a return to the soldiers, and that they should put a +stop to them if the proposal was embraced. Then he assembles the whole +host, and upon moving for a return to Greece, they unanimously agree to +it, and run to prepare the ships. They are detained by the management of +Ulysses, who chastises the insolence of Thersites. The assembly is +recalled, several speeches made on the occasion, and at length the advice +of Nestor followed, which was to make a general muster of the troops, and +to divide them into their several nations, before they proceeded to +battle. This gives occasion to the poet to enumerate all the forces of the +Greeks and Trojans, and in a large catalogue. + +The time employed in this book consists not entirely of one day. The scene +lies in the Grecian camp, and upon the sea-shore; towards the end it +removes to Troy. + + Now pleasing sleep had seal'd each mortal eye, + Stretch'd in the tents the Grecian leaders lie: + The immortals slumber'd on their thrones above; + All, but the ever-wakeful eyes of Jove.(76) + To honour Thetis' son he bends his care, + And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war: + Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight, + And thus commands the vision of the night. + + "Fly hence, deluding Dream! and light as air,(77) + To Agamemnon's ample tent repair. + Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train, + Lead all his Grecians to the dusty plain. + Declare, e'en now 'tis given him to destroy + The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. + For now no more the gods with fate contend, + At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end. + Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall, + And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall." + + Swift as the word the vain illusion fled, + Descends, and hovers o'er Atrides' head; + Clothed in the figure of the Pylian sage, + Renown'd for wisdom, and revered for age: + Around his temples spreads his golden wing, + And thus the flattering dream deceives the king. + + [Illustration: JUPITER SENDING THE EVIL DREAM TO AGAMEMNON.] + + JUPITER SENDING THE EVIL DREAM TO AGAMEMNON. + + + "Canst thou, with all a monarch's cares oppress'd, + O Atreus' son! canst thou indulge the rest?(78) + Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides, + Directs in council, and in war presides, + To whom its safety a whole people owes, + To waste long nights in indolent repose.(79) + Monarch, awake! 'tis Jove's command I bear; + Thou, and thy glory, claim his heavenly care. + In just array draw forth the embattled train, + Lead all thy Grecians to the dusty plain; + E'en now, O king! 'tis given thee to destroy + The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. + For now no more the gods with fate contend, + At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end. + Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall, + And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall. + Awake, but waking this advice approve, + And trust the vision that descends from Jove." + + The phantom said; then vanish'd from his sight, + Resolves to air, and mixes with the night. + A thousand schemes the monarch's mind employ; + Elate in thought he sacks untaken Troy: + Vain as he was, and to the future blind, + Nor saw what Jove and secret fate design'd, + What mighty toils to either host remain, + What scenes of grief, and numbers of the slain! + Eager he rises, and in fancy hears + The voice celestial murmuring in his ears. + First on his limbs a slender vest he drew, + Around him next the regal mantle threw, + The embroider'd sandals on his feet were tied; + The starry falchion glitter'd at his side; + And last, his arm the massy sceptre loads, + Unstain'd, immortal, and the gift of gods. + + Now rosy Morn ascends the court of Jove, + Lifts up her light, and opens day above. + The king despatch'd his heralds with commands + To range the camp and summon all the bands: + The gathering hosts the monarch's word obey; + While to the fleet Atrides bends his way. + In his black ship the Pylian prince he found; + There calls a senate of the peers around: + The assembly placed, the king of men express'd + The counsels labouring in his artful breast. + + "Friends and confederates! with attentive ear + Receive my words, and credit what you hear. + Late as I slumber'd in the shades of night, + A dream divine appear'd before my sight; + Whose visionary form like Nestor came, + The same in habit, and in mien the same.(80) + The heavenly phantom hover'd o'er my head, + 'And, dost thou sleep, O Atreus' son? (he said) + Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides, + Directs in council, and in war presides; + To whom its safety a whole people owes, + To waste long nights in indolent repose. + Monarch, awake! 'tis Jove's command I bear, + Thou and thy glory claim his heavenly care. + In just array draw forth the embattled train, + And lead the Grecians to the dusty plain; + E'en now, O king! 'tis given thee to destroy + The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. + For now no more the gods with fate contend, + At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end. + Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall, + And nodding Ilion waits the impending fall. + + This hear observant, and the gods obey!' + The vision spoke, and pass'd in air away. + Now, valiant chiefs! since heaven itself alarms, + Unite, and rouse the sons of Greece to arms. + But first, with caution, try what yet they dare, + Worn with nine years of unsuccessful war. + To move the troops to measure back the main, + Be mine; and yours the province to detain." + + He spoke, and sat: when Nestor, rising said, + (Nestor, whom Pylos' sandy realms obey'd,) + "Princes of Greece, your faithful ears incline, + Nor doubt the vision of the powers divine; + Sent by great Jove to him who rules the host, + Forbid it, heaven! this warning should be lost! + Then let us haste, obey the god's alarms, + And join to rouse the sons of Greece to arms." + + Thus spoke the sage: the kings without delay + Dissolve the council, and their chief obey: + The sceptred rulers lead; the following host, + Pour'd forth by thousands, darkens all the coast. + As from some rocky cleft the shepherd sees + Clustering in heaps on heaps the driving bees, + Rolling and blackening, swarms succeeding swarms, + With deeper murmurs and more hoarse alarms; + Dusky they spread, a close embodied crowd, + And o'er the vale descends the living cloud.(81) + So, from the tents and ships, a lengthen'd train + Spreads all the beach, and wide o'ershades the plain: + Along the region runs a deafening sound; + Beneath their footsteps groans the trembling ground. + Fame flies before the messenger of Jove, + And shining soars, and claps her wings above. + Nine sacred heralds now, proclaiming loud(82) + The monarch's will, suspend the listening crowd. + Soon as the throngs in order ranged appear, + And fainter murmurs died upon the ear, + The king of kings his awful figure raised: + High in his hand the golden sceptre blazed; + The golden sceptre, of celestial flame, + By Vulcan form'd, from Jove to Hermes came. + To Pelops he the immortal gift resign'd; + The immortal gift great Pelops left behind, + In Atreus' hand, which not with Atreus ends, + To rich Thyestes next the prize descends; + And now the mark of Agamemnon's reign, + Subjects all Argos, and controls the main.(83) + + On this bright sceptre now the king reclined, + And artful thus pronounced the speech design'd: + "Ye sons of Mars, partake your leader's care, + Heroes of Greece, and brothers of the war! + Of partial Jove with justice I complain, + And heavenly oracles believed in vain + A safe return was promised to our toils, + Renown'd, triumphant, and enrich'd with spoils. + Now shameful flight alone can save the host, + Our blood, our treasure, and our glory lost. + So Jove decrees, resistless lord of all! + At whose command whole empires rise or fall: + He shakes the feeble props of human trust, + And towns and armies humbles to the dust + What shame to Greece a fruitful war to wage, + Oh, lasting shame in every future age! + Once great in arms, the common scorn we grow, + Repulsed and baffled by a feeble foe. + So small their number, that if wars were ceased, + And Greece triumphant held a general feast, + All rank'd by tens, whole decades when they dine + Must want a Trojan slave to pour the wine.(84) + But other forces have our hopes o'erthrown, + And Troy prevails by armies not her own. + Now nine long years of mighty Jove are run, + Since first the labours of this war begun: + Our cordage torn, decay'd our vessels lie, + And scarce insure the wretched power to fly. + Haste, then, for ever leave the Trojan wall! + Our weeping wives, our tender children call: + Love, duty, safety, summon us away, + 'Tis nature's voice, and nature we obey, + Our shatter'd barks may yet transport us o'er, + Safe and inglorious, to our native shore. + Fly, Grecians, fly, your sails and oars employ, + And dream no more of heaven-defended Troy." + + His deep design unknown, the hosts approve + Atrides' speech. The mighty numbers move. + So roll the billows to the Icarian shore, + From east and south when winds begin to roar, + Burst their dark mansions in the clouds, and sweep + The whitening surface of the ruffled deep. + And as on corn when western gusts descend,(85) + Before the blast the lofty harvests bend: + Thus o'er the field the moving host appears, + With nodding plumes and groves of waving spears. + The gathering murmur spreads, their trampling feet + Beat the loose sands, and thicken to the fleet; + With long-resounding cries they urge the train + To fit the ships, and launch into the main. + They toil, they sweat, thick clouds of dust arise, + The doubling clamours echo to the skies. + E'en then the Greeks had left the hostile plain, + And fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain; + But Jove's imperial queen their flight survey'd, + And sighing thus bespoke the blue-eyed maid: + + "Shall then the Grecians fly! O dire disgrace! + And leave unpunish'd this perfidious race? + Shall Troy, shall Priam, and the adulterous spouse, + In peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows? + And bravest chiefs, in Helen's quarrel slain, + Lie unrevenged on yon detested plain? + No: let my Greeks, unmoved by vain alarms, + Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms. + Haste, goddess, haste! the flying host detain, + Nor let one sail be hoisted on the main." + + Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height + Swift to the ships precipitates her flight. + Ulysses, first in public cares, she found, + For prudent counsel like the gods renown'd: + Oppress'd with generous grief the hero stood, + Nor drew his sable vessels to the flood. + "And is it thus, divine Laertes' son, + Thus fly the Greeks (the martial maid begun), + Thus to their country bear their own disgrace, + And fame eternal leave to Priam's race? + Shall beauteous Helen still remain unfreed, + Still unrevenged, a thousand heroes bleed! + Haste, generous Ithacus! prevent the shame, + Recall your armies, and your chiefs reclaim. + Your own resistless eloquence employ, + And to the immortals trust the fall of Troy." + + The voice divine confess'd the warlike maid, + Ulysses heard, nor uninspired obey'd: + Then meeting first Atrides, from his hand + Received the imperial sceptre of command. + Thus graced, attention and respect to gain, + He runs, he flies through all the Grecian train; + Each prince of name, or chief in arms approved, + He fired with praise, or with persuasion moved. + + "Warriors like you, with strength and wisdom bless'd, + By brave examples should confirm the rest. + The monarch's will not yet reveal'd appears; + He tries our courage, but resents our fears. + The unwary Greeks his fury may provoke; + Not thus the king in secret council spoke. + Jove loves our chief, from Jove his honour springs, + Beware! for dreadful is the wrath of kings." + + But if a clamorous vile plebeian rose, + Him with reproof he check'd or tamed with blows. + "Be still, thou slave, and to thy betters yield; + Unknown alike in council and in field! + Ye gods, what dastards would our host command! + Swept to the war, the lumber of a land. + Be silent, wretch, and think not here allow'd + That worst of tyrants, an usurping crowd. + To one sole monarch Jove commits the sway; + His are the laws, and him let all obey."(86) + + With words like these the troops Ulysses ruled, + The loudest silenced, and the fiercest cool'd. + Back to the assembly roll the thronging train, + Desert the ships, and pour upon the plain. + Murmuring they move, as when old ocean roars, + And heaves huge surges to the trembling shores; + The groaning banks are burst with bellowing sound, + The rocks remurmur and the deeps rebound. + At length the tumult sinks, the noises cease, + And a still silence lulls the camp to peace. + Thersites only clamour'd in the throng, + Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue: + Awed by no shame, by no respect controll'd, + In scandal busy, in reproaches bold: + With witty malice studious to defame, + Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim:-- + But chief he gloried with licentious style + To lash the great, and monarchs to revile. + His figure such as might his soul proclaim; + One eye was blinking, and one leg was lame: + His mountain shoulders half his breast o'erspread, + Thin hairs bestrew'd his long misshapen head. + Spleen to mankind his envious heart possess'd, + And much he hated all, but most the best: + Ulysses or Achilles still his theme; + But royal scandal his delight supreme, + Long had he lived the scorn of every Greek, + Vex'd when he spoke, yet still they heard him speak. + Sharp was his voice; which in the shrillest tone, + Thus with injurious taunts attack'd the throne. + + "Amidst the glories of so bright a reign, + What moves the great Atrides to complain? + 'Tis thine whate'er the warrior's breast inflames, + The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames. + With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow, + Thy tents are crowded and thy chests o'erflow. + Thus at full ease in heaps of riches roll'd, + What grieves the monarch? Is it thirst of gold? + Say, shall we march with our unconquer'd powers + (The Greeks and I) to Ilion's hostile towers, + And bring the race of royal bastards here, + For Troy to ransom at a price too dear? + But safer plunder thy own host supplies; + Say, wouldst thou seize some valiant leader's prize? + Or, if thy heart to generous love be led, + Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly bed? + Whate'er our master craves submit we must, + Plagued with his pride, or punish'd for his lust. + Oh women of Achaia; men no more! + Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store + In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian shore. + We may be wanted on some busy day, + When Hector comes: so great Achilles may: + From him he forced the prize we jointly gave, + From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the brave: + And durst he, as he ought, resent that wrong, + This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long." + + Fierce from his seat at this Ulysses springs,(87) + In generous vengeance of the king of kings. + With indignation sparkling in his eyes, + He views the wretch, and sternly thus replies: + + "Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state, + With wrangling talents form'd for foul debate: + Curb that impetuous tongue, nor rashly vain, + And singly mad, asperse the sovereign reign. + Have we not known thee, slave! of all our host, + The man who acts the least, upbraids the most? + Think not the Greeks to shameful flight to bring, + Nor let those lips profane the name of king. + For our return we trust the heavenly powers; + Be that their care; to fight like men be ours. + But grant the host with wealth the general load, + Except detraction, what hast thou bestow'd? + Suppose some hero should his spoils resign, + Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine? + Gods! let me perish on this hateful shore, + And let these eyes behold my son no more; + If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear + To strip those arms thou ill deserv'st to wear, + Expel the council where our princes meet, + And send thee scourged and howling through the fleet." + + He said, and cowering as the dastard bends, + The weighty sceptre on his bank descends.(88) + On the round bunch the bloody tumours rise: + The tears spring starting from his haggard eyes; + Trembling he sat, and shrunk in abject fears, + From his vile visage wiped the scalding tears; + While to his neighbour each express'd his thought: + + "Ye gods! what wonders has Ulysses wrought! + What fruits his conduct and his courage yield! + Great in the council, glorious in the field. + Generous he rises in the crown's defence, + To curb the factious tongue of insolence, + Such just examples on offenders shown, + Sedition silence, and assert the throne." + + 'Twas thus the general voice the hero praised, + Who, rising, high the imperial sceptre raised: + The blue-eyed Pallas, his celestial friend, + (In form a herald,) bade the crowds attend. + The expecting crowds in still attention hung, + To hear the wisdom of his heavenly tongue. + Then deeply thoughtful, pausing ere he spoke, + His silence thus the prudent hero broke: + + "Unhappy monarch! whom the Grecian race + With shame deserting, heap with vile disgrace. + Not such at Argos was their generous vow: + Once all their voice, but ah! forgotten now: + Ne'er to return, was then the common cry, + Till Troy's proud structures should in ashes lie. + Behold them weeping for their native shore; + What could their wives or helpless children more? + What heart but melts to leave the tender train, + And, one short month, endure the wintry main? + Few leagues removed, we wish our peaceful seat, + When the ship tosses, and the tempests beat: + Then well may this long stay provoke their tears, + The tedious length of nine revolving years. + Not for their grief the Grecian host I blame; + But vanquish'd! baffled! oh, eternal shame! + Expect the time to Troy's destruction given. + And try the faith of Chalcas and of heaven. + What pass'd at Aulis, Greece can witness bear,(89) + And all who live to breathe this Phrygian air. + Beside a fountain's sacred brink we raised + Our verdant altars, and the victims blazed: + 'Twas where the plane-tree spread its shades around, + The altars heaved; and from the crumbling ground + A mighty dragon shot, of dire portent; + From Jove himself the dreadful sign was sent. + Straight to the tree his sanguine spires he roll'd, + And curl'd around in many a winding fold; + The topmost branch a mother-bird possess'd; + Eight callow infants fill'd the mossy nest; + Herself the ninth; the serpent, as he hung, + Stretch'd his black jaws and crush'd the crying young; + While hovering near, with miserable moan, + The drooping mother wail'd her children gone. + The mother last, as round the nest she flew, + Seized by the beating wing, the monster slew; + Nor long survived: to marble turn'd, he stands + A lasting prodigy on Aulis' sands. + Such was the will of Jove; and hence we dare + Trust in his omen, and support the war. + For while around we gazed with wondering eyes, + And trembling sought the powers with sacrifice, + Full of his god, the reverend Chalcas cried,(90) + 'Ye Grecian warriors! lay your fears aside. + This wondrous signal Jove himself displays, + Of long, long labours, but eternal praise. + As many birds as by the snake were slain, + So many years the toils of Greece remain; + But wait the tenth, for Ilion's fall decreed:' + Thus spoke the prophet, thus the Fates succeed. + Obey, ye Grecians! with submission wait, + Nor let your flight avert the Trojan fate." + He said: the shores with loud applauses sound, + The hollow ships each deafening shout rebound. + Then Nestor thus--"These vain debates forbear, + Ye talk like children, not like heroes dare. + Where now are all your high resolves at last? + Your leagues concluded, your engagements past? + Vow'd with libations and with victims then, + Now vanish'd like their smoke: the faith of men! + While useless words consume the unactive hours, + No wonder Troy so long resists our powers. + Rise, great Atrides! and with courage sway; + We march to war, if thou direct the way. + But leave the few that dare resist thy laws, + The mean deserters of the Grecian cause, + To grudge the conquests mighty Jove prepares, + And view with envy our successful wars. + On that great day, when first the martial train, + Big with the fate of Ilion, plough'd the main, + Jove, on the right, a prosperous signal sent, + And thunder rolling shook the firmament. + Encouraged hence, maintain the glorious strife, + Till every soldier grasp a Phrygian wife, + Till Helen's woes at full revenged appear, + And Troy's proud matrons render tear for tear. + Before that day, if any Greek invite + His country's troops to base, inglorious flight, + Stand forth that Greek! and hoist his sail to fly, + And die the dastard first, who dreads to die. + But now, O monarch! all thy chiefs advise:(91) + Nor what they offer, thou thyself despise. + Among those counsels, let not mine be vain; + In tribes and nations to divide thy train: + His separate troops let every leader call, + Each strengthen each, and all encourage all. + What chief, or soldier, of the numerous band, + Or bravely fights, or ill obeys command, + When thus distinct they war, shall soon be known + And what the cause of Ilion not o'erthrown; + If fate resists, or if our arms are slow, + If gods above prevent, or men below." + + To him the king: "How much thy years excel + In arts of counsel, and in speaking well! + O would the gods, in love to Greece, decree + But ten such sages as they grant in thee; + Such wisdom soon should Priam's force destroy, + And soon should fall the haughty towers of Troy! + But Jove forbids, who plunges those he hates + In fierce contention and in vain debates: + Now great Achilles from our aid withdraws, + By me provoked; a captive maid the cause: + If e'er as friends we join, the Trojan wall + Must shake, and heavy will the vengeance fall! + But now, ye warriors, take a short repast; + And, well refresh'd, to bloody conflict haste. + His sharpen'd spear let every Grecian wield, + And every Grecian fix his brazen shield, + Let all excite the fiery steeds of war, + And all for combat fit the rattling car. + This day, this dreadful day, let each contend; + No rest, no respite, till the shades descend; + Till darkness, or till death, shall cover all: + Let the war bleed, and let the mighty fall; + Till bathed in sweat be every manly breast, + With the huge shield each brawny arm depress'd, + Each aching nerve refuse the lance to throw, + And each spent courser at the chariot blow. + Who dares, inglorious, in his ships to stay, + Who dares to tremble on this signal day; + That wretch, too mean to fall by martial power, + The birds shall mangle, and the dogs devour." + + The monarch spoke; and straight a murmur rose, + Loud as the surges when the tempest blows, + That dash'd on broken rocks tumultuous roar, + And foam and thunder on the stony shore. + Straight to the tents the troops dispersing bend, + The fires are kindled, and the smokes ascend; + With hasty feasts they sacrifice, and pray, + To avert the dangers of the doubtful day. + A steer of five years' age, large limb'd, and fed,(92) + To Jove's high altars Agamemnon led: + There bade the noblest of the Grecian peers; + And Nestor first, as most advanced in years. + Next came Idomeneus,(93) + and Tydeus' son,(94) + Ajax the less, and Ajax Telamon;(95) + Then wise Ulysses in his rank was placed; + And Menelaus came, unbid, the last.(96) + The chiefs surround the destined beast, and take + The sacred offering of the salted cake: + When thus the king prefers his solemn prayer; + "O thou! whose thunder rends the clouded air, + Who in the heaven of heavens hast fixed thy throne, + Supreme of gods! unbounded, and alone! + Hear! and before the burning sun descends, + Before the night her gloomy veil extends, + Low in the dust be laid yon hostile spires, + Be Priam's palace sunk in Grecian fires. + In Hector's breast be plunged this shining sword, + And slaughter'd heroes groan around their lord!" + + Thus prayed the chief: his unavailing prayer + Great Jove refused, and toss'd in empty air: + The God averse, while yet the fumes arose, + Prepared new toils, and doubled woes on woes. + Their prayers perform'd the chiefs the rite pursue, + The barley sprinkled, and the victim slew. + The limbs they sever from the inclosing hide, + The thighs, selected to the gods, divide. + On these, in double cauls involved with art, + The choicest morsels lie from every part, + From the cleft wood the crackling flames aspires + While the fat victims feed the sacred fire. + The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails dress'd + The assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest; + Then spread the tables, the repast prepare, + Each takes his seat, and each receives his share. + Soon as the rage of hunger was suppress'd, + The generous Nestor thus the prince address'd. + + "Now bid thy heralds sound the loud alarms, + And call the squadrons sheathed in brazen arms; + Now seize the occasion, now the troops survey, + And lead to war when heaven directs the way." + + He said; the monarch issued his commands; + Straight the loud heralds call the gathering bands + The chiefs inclose their king; the hosts divide, + In tribes and nations rank'd on either side. + High in the midst the blue-eyed virgin flies; + From rank to rank she darts her ardent eyes; + The dreadful aegis, Jove's immortal shield, + Blazed on her arm, and lighten'd all the field: + Round the vast orb a hundred serpents roll'd, + Form'd the bright fringe, and seem'd to burn in gold, + With this each Grecian's manly breast she warms, + Swells their bold hearts, and strings their nervous arms, + No more they sigh, inglorious, to return, + But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn. + + As on some mountain, through the lofty grove, + The crackling flames ascend, and blaze above; + The fires expanding, as the winds arise, + Shoot their long beams, and kindle half the skies: + So from the polish'd arms, and brazen shields, + A gleamy splendour flash'd along the fields. + Not less their number than the embodied cranes, + Or milk-white swans in Asius' watery plains. + That, o'er the windings of Cayster's springs,(97) + Stretch their long necks, and clap their rustling wings, + Now tower aloft, and course in airy rounds, + Now light with noise; with noise the field resounds. + Thus numerous and confused, extending wide, + The legions crowd Scamander's flowery side;(98) + With rushing troops the plains are cover'd o'er, + And thundering footsteps shake the sounding shore. + Along the river's level meads they stand, + Thick as in spring the flowers adorn the land, + Or leaves the trees; or thick as insects play, + The wandering nation of a summer's day: + That, drawn by milky steams, at evening hours, + In gather'd swarms surround the rural bowers; + From pail to pail with busy murmur run + The gilded legions, glittering in the sun. + So throng'd, so close, the Grecian squadrons stood + In radiant arms, and thirst for Trojan blood. + Each leader now his scatter'd force conjoins + In close array, and forms the deepening lines. + Not with more ease the skilful shepherd-swain + Collects his flocks from thousands on the plain. + The king of kings, majestically tall, + Towers o'er his armies, and outshines them all; + Like some proud bull, that round the pastures leads + His subject herds, the monarch of the meads, + Great as the gods, the exalted chief was seen, + His strength like Neptune, and like Mars his mien;(99) + Jove o'er his eyes celestial glories spread, + And dawning conquest played around his head. + + Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine, + All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine!(100) + Since earth's wide regions, heaven's umneasur'd height, + And hell's abyss, hide nothing from your sight, + (We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below, + But guess by rumour, and but boast we know,) + O say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame, + Or urged by wrongs, to Troy's destruction came. + To count them all, demands a thousand tongues, + A throat of brass, and adamantine lungs. + Daughters of Jove, assist! inspired by you + The mighty labour dauntless I pursue; + What crowded armies, from what climes they bring, + Their names, their numbers, and their chiefs I sing. + + THE CATALOGUE OF THE SHIPS.(101) + + [Illustration: NEPTUNE.] + + NEPTUNE. + + + The hardy warriors whom Boeotia bred, + Penelius, Leitus, Prothoenor, led: + With these Arcesilaus and Clonius stand, + Equal in arms, and equal in command. + These head the troops that rocky Aulis yields, + And Eteon's hills, and Hyrie's watery fields, + And Schoenos, Scholos, Graea near the main, + And Mycalessia's ample piny plain; + Those who in Peteon or Ilesion dwell, + Or Harma where Apollo's prophet fell; + Heleon and Hyle, which the springs o'erflow; + And Medeon lofty, and Ocalea low; + Or in the meads of Haliartus stray, + Or Thespia sacred to the god of day: + Onchestus, Neptune's celebrated groves; + Copae, and Thisbe, famed for silver doves; + For flocks Erythrae, Glissa for the vine; + Platea green, and Nysa the divine; + And they whom Thebe's well-built walls inclose, + Where Myde, Eutresis, Corone, rose; + And Arne rich, with purple harvests crown'd; + And Anthedon, Boeotia's utmost bound. + Full fifty ships they send, and each conveys + Twice sixty warriors through the foaming seas.(102) + + To these succeed Aspledon's martial train, + Who plough the spacious Orchomenian plain. + Two valiant brothers rule the undaunted throng, + Ialmen and Ascalaphus the strong: + Sons of Astyoche, the heavenly fair, + Whose virgin charms subdued the god of war: + (In Actor's court as she retired to rest, + The strength of Mars the blushing maid compress'd) + Their troops in thirty sable vessels sweep, + With equal oars, the hoarse-resounding deep. + + The Phocians next in forty barks repair; + Epistrophus and Schedius head the war: + From those rich regions where Cephisus leads + His silver current through the flowery meads; + From Panopea, Chrysa the divine, + Where Anemoria's stately turrets shine, + Where Pytho, Daulis, Cyparissus stood, + And fair Lilaea views the rising flood. + These, ranged in order on the floating tide, + Close, on the left, the bold Boeotians' side. + + Fierce Ajax led the Locrian squadrons on, + Ajax the less, Oileus' valiant son; + Skill'd to direct the flying dart aright; + Swift in pursuit, and active in the fight. + Him, as their chief, the chosen troops attend, + Which Bessa, Thronus, and rich Cynos send; + Opus, Calliarus, and Scarphe's bands; + And those who dwell where pleasing Augia stands, + And where Boagrius floats the lowly lands, + Or in fair Tarphe's sylvan seats reside: + In forty vessels cut the yielding tide. + + Euboea next her martial sons prepares, + And sends the brave Abantes to the wars: + Breathing revenge, in arms they take their way + From Chalcis' walls, and strong Eretria; + The Isteian fields for generous vines renown'd, + The fair Caristos, and the Styrian ground; + Where Dios from her towers o'erlooks the plain, + And high Cerinthus views the neighbouring main. + Down their broad shoulders falls a length of hair; + Their hands dismiss not the long lance in air; + But with protended spears in fighting fields + Pierce the tough corslets and the brazen shields. + Twice twenty ships transport the warlike bands, + Which bold Elphenor, fierce in arms, commands. + + Full fifty more from Athens stem the main, + Led by Menestheus through the liquid plain. + (Athens the fair, where great Erectheus sway'd, + That owed his nurture to the blue-eyed maid, + But from the teeming furrow took his birth, + The mighty offspring of the foodful earth. + Him Pallas placed amidst her wealthy fane, + Adored with sacrifice and oxen slain; + Where, as the years revolve, her altars blaze, + And all the tribes resound the goddess' praise.) + No chief like thee, Menestheus! Greece could yield, + To marshal armies in the dusty field, + The extended wings of battle to display, + Or close the embodied host in firm array. + Nestor alone, improved by length of days, + For martial conduct bore an equal praise. + + With these appear the Salaminian bands, + Whom the gigantic Telamon commands; + In twelve black ships to Troy they steer their course, + And with the great Athenians join their force. + + Next move to war the generous Argive train, + From high Troezene, and Maseta's plain, + And fair AEgina circled by the main: + Whom strong Tyrinthe's lofty walls surround, + And Epidaure with viny harvests crown'd: + And where fair Asinen and Hermoin show + Their cliffs above, and ample bay below. + These by the brave Euryalus were led, + Great Sthenelus, and greater Diomed; + But chief Tydides bore the sovereign sway: + In fourscore barks they plough the watery way. + + The proud Mycene arms her martial powers, + Cleone, Corinth, with imperial towers,(103) + Fair Araethyrea, Ornia's fruitful plain, + And AEgion, and Adrastus' ancient reign; + And those who dwell along the sandy shore, + And where Pellene yields her fleecy store, + Where Helice and Hyperesia lie, + And Gonoessa's spires salute the sky. + Great Agamemnon rules the numerous band, + A hundred vessels in long order stand, + And crowded nations wait his dread command. + High on the deck the king of men appears, + And his refulgent arms in triumph wears; + Proud of his host, unrivall'd in his reign, + In silent pomp he moves along the main. + + His brother follows, and to vengeance warms + The hardy Spartans, exercised in arms: + Phares and Brysia's valiant troops, and those + Whom Lacedaemon's lofty hills inclose; + Or Messe's towers for silver doves renown'd, + Amyclae, Laas, Augia's happy ground, + And those whom OEtylos' low walls contain, + And Helos, on the margin of the main: + These, o'er the bending ocean, Helen's cause, + In sixty ships with Menelaus draws: + Eager and loud from man to man he flies, + Revenge and fury flaming in his eyes; + While vainly fond, in fancy oft he hears + The fair one's grief, and sees her falling tears. + + In ninety sail, from Pylos' sandy coast, + Nestor the sage conducts his chosen host: + From Amphigenia's ever-fruitful land, + Where AEpy high, and little Pteleon stand; + Where beauteous Arene her structures shows, + And Thryon's walls Alpheus' streams inclose: + And Dorion, famed for Thamyris' disgrace, + Superior once of all the tuneful race, + Till, vain of mortals' empty praise, he strove + To match the seed of cloud-compelling Jove! + Too daring bard! whose unsuccessful pride + The immortal Muses in their art defied. + The avenging Muses of the light of day + Deprived his eyes, and snatch'd his voice away; + No more his heavenly voice was heard to sing, + His hand no more awaked the silver string. + + Where under high Cyllene, crown'd with wood, + The shaded tomb of old AEpytus stood; + From Ripe, Stratie, Tegea's bordering towns, + The Phenean fields, and Orchomenian downs, + Where the fat herds in plenteous pasture rove; + And Stymphelus with her surrounding grove; + Parrhasia, on her snowy cliffs reclined, + And high Enispe shook by wintry wind, + And fair Mantinea's ever-pleasing site; + In sixty sail the Arcadian bands unite. + Bold Agapenor, glorious at their head, + (Ancaeus' son) the mighty squadron led. + Their ships, supplied by Agamemnon's care, + Through roaring seas the wondering warriors bear; + The first to battle on the appointed plain, + But new to all the dangers of the main. + + Those, where fair Elis and Buprasium join; + Whom Hyrmin, here, and Myrsinus confine, + And bounded there, where o'er the valleys rose + The Olenian rock; and where Alisium flows; + Beneath four chiefs (a numerous army) came: + The strength and glory of the Epean name. + In separate squadrons these their train divide, + Each leads ten vessels through the yielding tide. + One was Amphimachus, and Thalpius one; + (Eurytus' this, and that Teatus' son;) + Diores sprung from Amarynceus' line; + And great Polyxenus, of force divine. + + But those who view fair Elis o'er the seas + From the blest islands of the Echinades, + In forty vessels under Meges move, + Begot by Phyleus, the beloved of Jove: + To strong Dulichium from his sire he fled, + And thence to Troy his hardy warriors led. + + Ulysses follow'd through the watery road, + A chief, in wisdom equal to a god. + With those whom Cephalenia's line inclosed, + Or till their fields along the coast opposed; + Or where fair Ithaca o'erlooks the floods, + Where high Neritos shakes his waving woods, + Where AEgilipa's rugged sides are seen, + Crocylia rocky, and Zacynthus green. + These in twelve galleys with vermilion prores, + Beneath his conduct sought the Phrygian shores. + + Thoas came next, Andraemon's valiant son, + From Pleuron's walls, and chalky Calydon, + And rough Pylene, and the Olenian steep, + And Chalcis, beaten by the rolling deep. + He led the warriors from the AEtolian shore, + For now the sons of OEneus were no more! + The glories of the mighty race were fled! + OEneus himself, and Meleager dead! + To Thoas' care now trust the martial train, + His forty vessels follow through the main. + + Next, eighty barks the Cretan king commands, + Of Gnossus, Lyctus, and Gortyna's bands; + And those who dwell where Rhytion's domes arise, + Or white Lycastus glitters to the skies, + Or where by Phaestus silver Jardan runs; + Crete's hundred cities pour forth all her sons. + These march'd, Idomeneus, beneath thy care, + And Merion, dreadful as the god of war. + + Tlepolemus, the sun of Hercules, + Led nine swift vessels through the foamy seas, + From Rhodes, with everlasting sunshine bright, + Jalyssus, Lindus, and Camirus white. + His captive mother fierce Alcides bore + From Ephyr's walls and Selle's winding shore, + Where mighty towns in ruins spread the plain, + And saw their blooming warriors early slain. + The hero, when to manly years he grew, + Alcides' uncle, old Licymnius, slew; + For this, constrain'd to quit his native place, + And shun the vengeance of the Herculean race, + A fleet he built, and with a numerous train + Of willing exiles wander'd o'er the main; + Where, many seas and many sufferings past, + On happy Rhodes the chief arrived at last: + There in three tribes divides his native band, + And rules them peaceful in a foreign land; + Increased and prosper'd in their new abodes + By mighty Jove, the sire of men and gods; + With joy they saw the growing empire rise, + And showers of wealth descending from the skies. + + Three ships with Nireus sought the Trojan shore, + Nireus, whom Aglae to Charopus bore, + Nireus, in faultless shape and blooming grace, + The loveliest youth of all the Grecian race;(104) + Pelides only match'd his early charms; + But few his troops, and small his strength in arms. + + Next thirty galleys cleave the liquid plain, + Of those Calydnae's sea-girt isles contain; + With them the youth of Nisyrus repair, + Casus the strong, and Crapathus the fair; + Cos, where Eurypylus possess'd the sway, + Till great Alcides made the realms obey: + These Antiphus and bold Phidippus bring, + Sprung from the god by Thessalus the king. + + Now, Muse, recount Pelasgic Argos' powers, + From Alos, Alope, and Trechin's towers: + From Phthia's spacious vales; and Hella, bless'd + With female beauty far beyond the rest. + Full fifty ships beneath Achilles' care, + The Achaians, Myrmidons, Hellenians bear; + Thessalians all, though various in their name; + The same their nation, and their chief the same. + But now inglorious, stretch'd along the shore, + They hear the brazen voice of war no more; + No more the foe they face in dire array: + Close in his fleet the angry leader lay; + Since fair Briseis from his arms was torn, + The noblest spoil from sack'd Lyrnessus borne, + Then, when the chief the Theban walls o'erthrew, + And the bold sons of great Evenus slew. + There mourn'd Achilles, plunged in depth of care, + But soon to rise in slaughter, blood, and war. + + To these the youth of Phylace succeed, + Itona, famous for her fleecy breed, + And grassy Pteleon deck'd with cheerful greens, + The bowers of Ceres, and the sylvan scenes. + Sweet Pyrrhasus, with blooming flowerets crown'd, + And Antron's watery dens, and cavern'd ground. + These own'd, as chief, Protesilas the brave, + Who now lay silent in the gloomy grave: + The first who boldly touch'd the Trojan shore, + And dyed a Phrygian lance with Grecian gore; + There lies, far distant from his native plain; + Unfinish'd his proud palaces remain, + And his sad consort beats her breast in vain. + His troops in forty ships Podarces led, + Iphiclus' son, and brother to the dead; + Nor he unworthy to command the host; + Yet still they mourn'd their ancient leader lost. + + The men who Glaphyra's fair soil partake, + Where hills incircle Boebe's lowly lake, + Where Phaere hears the neighbouring waters fall, + Or proud Iolcus lifts her airy wall, + In ten black ships embark'd for Ilion's shore, + With bold Eumelus, whom Alceste bore: + All Pelias' race Alceste far outshined, + The grace and glory of the beauteous kind, + + The troops Methone or Thaumacia yields, + Olizon's rocks, or Meliboea's fields, + With Philoctetes sail'd whose matchless art + From the tough bow directs the feather'd dart. + Seven were his ships; each vessel fifty row, + Skill'd in his science of the dart and bow. + But he lay raging on the Lemnian ground, + A poisonous hydra gave the burning wound; + There groan'd the chief in agonizing pain, + Whom Greece at length shall wish, nor wish in vain. + His forces Medon led from Lemnos' shore, + Oileus' son, whom beauteous Rhena bore. + + The OEchalian race, in those high towers contain'd + Where once Eurytus in proud triumph reign'd, + Or where her humbler turrets Tricca rears, + Or where Ithome, rough with rocks, appears, + In thirty sail the sparkling waves divide, + Which Podalirius and Machaon guide. + To these his skill their parent-god imparts, + Divine professors of the healing arts. + + The bold Ormenian and Asterian bands + In forty barks Eurypylus commands. + Where Titan hides his hoary head in snow, + And where Hyperia's silver fountains flow. + Thy troops, Argissa, Polypoetes leads, + And Eleon, shelter'd by Olympus' shades, + Gyrtone's warriors; and where Orthe lies, + And Oloosson's chalky cliffs arise. + Sprung from Pirithous of immortal race, + The fruit of fair Hippodame's embrace, + (That day, when hurl'd from Pelion's cloudy head, + To distant dens the shaggy Centaurs fled) + With Polypoetes join'd in equal sway + Leonteus leads, and forty ships obey. + + In twenty sail the bold Perrhaebians came + From Cyphus, Guneus was their leader's name. + With these the Enians join'd, and those who freeze + Where cold Dodona lifts her holy trees; + Or where the pleasing Titaresius glides, + And into Peneus rolls his easy tides; + Yet o'er the silvery surface pure they flow, + The sacred stream unmix'd with streams below, + Sacred and awful! from the dark abodes + Styx pours them forth, the dreadful oath of gods! + + Last, under Prothous the Magnesians stood, + (Prothous the swift, of old Tenthredon's blood;) + Who dwell where Pelion, crown'd with piny boughs, + Obscures the glade, and nods his shaggy brows; + Or where through flowery Tempe Peneus stray'd: + (The region stretch'd beneath his mighty shade:) + In forty sable barks they stemm'd the main; + Such were the chiefs, and such the Grecian train. + + Say next, O Muse! of all Achaia breeds, + Who bravest fought, or rein'd the noblest steeds? + Eumelus' mares were foremost in the chase, + As eagles fleet, and of Pheretian race; + Bred where Pieria's fruitful fountains flow, + And train'd by him who bears the silver bow. + Fierce in the fight their nostrils breathed a flame, + Their height, their colour, and their age the same; + O'er fields of death they whirl the rapid car, + And break the ranks, and thunder through the war. + Ajax in arms the first renown acquired, + While stern Achilles in his wrath retired: + (His was the strength that mortal might exceeds, + And his the unrivall'd race of heavenly steeds:) + But Thetis' son now shines in arms no more; + His troops, neglected on the sandy shore. + In empty air their sportive javelins throw, + Or whirl the disk, or bend an idle bow: + Unstain'd with blood his cover'd chariots stand; + The immortal coursers graze along the strand; + But the brave chiefs the inglorious life deplored, + And, wandering o'er the camp, required their lord. + + Now, like a deluge, covering all around, + The shining armies sweep along the ground; + Swift as a flood of fire, when storms arise, + Floats the wild field, and blazes to the skies. + Earth groan'd beneath them; as when angry Jove + Hurls down the forky lightning from above, + On Arime when he the thunder throws, + And fires Typhoeus with redoubled blows, + Where Typhon, press'd beneath the burning load, + Still feels the fury of the avenging god. + + But various Iris, Jove's commands to bear, + Speeds on the wings of winds through liquid air; + In Priam's porch the Trojan chiefs she found, + The old consulting, and the youths around. + Polites' shape, the monarch's son, she chose, + Who from AEsetes' tomb observed the foes,(105) + High on the mound; from whence in prospect lay + The fields, the tents, the navy, and the bay. + In this dissembled form, she hastes to bring + The unwelcome message to the Phrygian king. + + "Cease to consult, the time for action calls; + War, horrid war, approaches to your walls! + Assembled armies oft have I beheld; + But ne'er till now such numbers charged a field: + Thick as autumnal leaves or driving sand, + The moving squadrons blacken all the strand. + Thou, godlike Hector! all thy force employ, + Assemble all the united bands of Troy; + In just array let every leader call + The foreign troops: this day demands them all!" + + The voice divine the mighty chief alarms; + The council breaks, the warriors rush to arms. + The gates unfolding pour forth all their train, + Nations on nations fill the dusky plain, + Men, steeds, and chariots, shake the trembling ground: + The tumult thickens, and the skies resound. + + Amidst the plain, in sight of Ilion, stands + A rising mount, the work of human hands; + (This for Myrinne's tomb the immortals know, + Though call'd Bateia in the world below;) + Beneath their chiefs in martial order here, + The auxiliar troops and Trojan hosts appear. + + The godlike Hector, high above the rest, + Shakes his huge spear, and nods his plumy crest: + In throngs around his native bands repair, + And groves of lances glitter in the air. + + Divine AEneas brings the Dardan race, + Anchises' son, by Venus' stolen embrace, + Born in the shades of Ida's secret grove; + (A mortal mixing with the queen of love;) + Archilochus and Acamas divide + The warrior's toils, and combat by his side. + + Who fair Zeleia's wealthy valleys till,(106) + Fast by the foot of Ida's sacred hill, + Or drink, AEsepus, of thy sable flood, + Were led by Pandarus, of royal blood; + To whom his art Apollo deign'd to show, + Graced with the presents of his shafts and bow. + + From rich Apaesus and Adrestia's towers, + High Teree's summits, and Pityea's bowers; + From these the congregated troops obey + Young Amphius and Adrastus' equal sway; + Old Merops' sons; whom, skill'd in fates to come, + The sire forewarn'd, and prophesied their doom: + Fate urged them on! the sire forewarn'd in vain, + They rush'd to war, and perish'd on the plain. + + From Practius' stream, Percote's pasture lands, + And Sestos and Abydos' neighbouring strands, + From great Arisba's walls and Selle's coast, + Asius Hyrtacides conducts his host: + High on his car he shakes the flowing reins, + His fiery coursers thunder o'er the plains. + + The fierce Pelasgi next, in war renown'd, + March from Larissa's ever-fertile ground: + In equal arms their brother leaders shine, + Hippothous bold, and Pyleus the divine. + + Next Acamas and Pyrous lead their hosts, + In dread array, from Thracia's wintry coasts; + Round the bleak realms where Hellespontus roars, + And Boreas beats the hoarse-resounding shores. + + With great Euphemus the Ciconians move, + Sprung from Troezenian Ceus, loved by Jove. + + Pyraechmes the Paeonian troops attend, + Skill'd in the fight their crooked bows to bend; + From Axius' ample bed he leads them on, + Axius, that laves the distant Amydon, + Axius, that swells with all his neighbouring rills, + And wide around the floating region fills. + + The Paphlagonians Pylaemenes rules, + Where rich Henetia breeds her savage mules, + Where Erythinus' rising cliffs are seen, + Thy groves of box, Cytorus! ever green, + And where AEgialus and Cromna lie, + And lofty Sesamus invades the sky, + And where Parthenius, roll'd through banks of flowers, + Reflects her bordering palaces and bowers. + + Here march'd in arms the Halizonian band, + Whom Odius and Epistrophus command, + From those far regions where the sun refines + The ripening silver in Alybean mines. + + There mighty Chromis led the Mysian train, + And augur Ennomus, inspired in vain; + For stern Achilles lopp'd his sacred head, + Roll'd down Scamander with the vulgar dead. + + Phorcys and brave Ascanius here unite + The Ascanian Phrygians, eager for the fight. + + Of those who round Maeonia's realms reside, + Or whom the vales in shades of Tmolus hide, + Mestles and Antiphus the charge partake, + Born on the banks of Gyges' silent lake. + There, from the fields where wild Maeander flows, + High Mycale, and Latmos' shady brows, + And proud Miletus, came the Carian throngs, + With mingled clamours and with barbarous tongues.(107) + Amphimachus and Naustes guide the train, + Naustes the bold, Amphimachus the vain, + Who, trick'd with gold, and glittering on his car, + Rode like a woman to the field of war. + Fool that he was! by fierce Achilles slain, + The river swept him to the briny main: + There whelm'd with waves the gaudy warrior lies + The valiant victor seized the golden prize. + + The forces last in fair array succeed, + Which blameless Glaucus and Sarpedon lead + The warlike bands that distant Lycia yields, + Where gulfy Xanthus foams along the fields. + + + + + +BOOK III. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE DUEL OF MENELAUS AND PARIS. + +The armies being ready to engage, a single combat is agreed upon between +Menelaus and Paris (by the intervention of Hector) for the determination +of the war. Iris is sent to call Helen to behold the fight. She leads her +to the walls of Troy, where Priam sat with his counsellers observing the +Grecian leaders on the plain below, to whom Helen gives an account of the +chief of them. The kings on either part take the solemn oath for the +conditions of the combat. The duel ensues; wherein Paris being overcome, +he is snatched away in a cloud by Venus, and transported to his apartment. +She then calls Helen from the walls, and brings the lovers together. +Agamemnon, on the part of the Grecians, demands the restoration of Helen, +and the performance of the articles. + +The three-and-twentieth day still continues throughout this book. The +scene is sometimes in the fields before Troy, and sometimes in Troy +itself. + + Thus by their leaders' care each martial band + Moves into ranks, and stretches o'er the land. + With shouts the Trojans, rushing from afar, + Proclaim their motions, and provoke the war + So when inclement winters vex the plain + With piercing frosts, or thick-descending rain, + To warmer seas the cranes embodied fly,(108) + With noise, and order, through the midway sky; + To pigmy nations wounds and death they bring, + And all the war descends upon the wing, + But silent, breathing rage, resolved and skill'd(109) + By mutual aids to fix a doubtful field, + Swift march the Greeks: the rapid dust around + Darkening arises from the labour'd ground. + Thus from his flaggy wings when Notus sheds + A night of vapours round the mountain heads, + Swift-gliding mists the dusky fields invade, + To thieves more grateful than the midnight shade; + While scarce the swains their feeding flocks survey, + Lost and confused amidst the thicken'd day: + So wrapp'd in gathering dust, the Grecian train, + A moving cloud, swept on, and hid the plain. + + Now front to front the hostile armies stand, + Eager of fight, and only wait command; + When, to the van, before the sons of fame + Whom Troy sent forth, the beauteous Paris came: + In form a god! the panther's speckled hide + Flow'd o'er his armour with an easy pride: + His bended bow across his shoulders flung, + His sword beside him negligently hung; + Two pointed spears he shook with gallant grace, + And dared the bravest of the Grecian race. + + As thus, with glorious air and proud disdain, + He boldly stalk'd, the foremost on the plain, + Him Menelaus, loved of Mars, espies, + With heart elated, and with joyful eyes: + So joys a lion, if the branching deer, + Or mountain goat, his bulky prize, appear; + Eager he seizes and devours the slain, + Press'd by bold youths and baying dogs in vain. + Thus fond of vengeance, with a furious bound, + In clanging arms he leaps upon the ground + From his high chariot: him, approaching near, + The beauteous champion views with marks of fear, + Smit with a conscious sense, retires behind, + And shuns the fate he well deserved to find. + As when some shepherd, from the rustling trees(110) + Shot forth to view, a scaly serpent sees, + Trembling and pale, he starts with wild affright + And all confused precipitates his flight: + So from the king the shining warrior flies, + And plunged amid the thickest Trojans lies. + + As godlike Hector sees the prince retreat, + He thus upbraids him with a generous heat: + "Unhappy Paris! but to women brave!(111) + So fairly form'd, and only to deceive! + Oh, hadst thou died when first thou saw'st the light, + Or died at least before thy nuptial rite! + A better fate than vainly thus to boast, + And fly, the scandal of thy Trojan host. + Gods! how the scornful Greeks exult to see + Their fears of danger undeceived in thee! + Thy figure promised with a martial air, + But ill thy soul supplies a form so fair. + In former days, in all thy gallant pride, + When thy tall ships triumphant stemm'd the tide, + When Greece beheld thy painted canvas flow, + And crowds stood wondering at the passing show, + Say, was it thus, with such a baffled mien, + You met the approaches of the Spartan queen, + Thus from her realm convey'd the beauteous prize, + And both her warlike lords outshined in Helen's eyes? + This deed, thy foes' delight, thy own disgrace, + Thy father's grief, and ruin of thy race; + This deed recalls thee to the proffer'd fight; + Or hast thou injured whom thou dar'st not right? + Soon to thy cost the field would make thee know + Thou keep'st the consort of a braver foe. + Thy graceful form instilling soft desire, + Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre, + Beauty and youth; in vain to these you trust, + When youth and beauty shall be laid in dust: + Troy yet may wake, and one avenging blow + Crush the dire author of his country's woe." + + His silence here, with blushes, Paris breaks: + "'Tis just, my brother, what your anger speaks: + But who like thee can boast a soul sedate, + So firmly proof to all the shocks of fate? + Thy force, like steel, a temper'd hardness shows, + Still edged to wound, and still untired with blows, + Like steel, uplifted by some strenuous swain, + With falling woods to strew the wasted plain. + Thy gifts I praise; nor thou despise the charms + With which a lover golden Venus arms; + Soft moving speech, and pleasing outward show, + No wish can gain them, but the gods bestow. + Yet, would'st thou have the proffer'd combat stand, + The Greeks and Trojans seat on either hand; + Then let a midway space our hosts divide, + And, on that stage of war, the cause be tried: + By Paris there the Spartan king be fought, + For beauteous Helen and the wealth she brought; + And who his rival can in arms subdue, + His be the fair, and his the treasure too. + Thus with a lasting league your toils may cease, + And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace; + Thus may the Greeks review their native shore, + Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more." + + He said. The challenge Hector heard with joy, + Then with his spear restrain'd the youth of Troy, + Held by the midst, athwart; and near the foe + Advanced with steps majestically slow: + While round his dauntless head the Grecians pour + Their stones and arrows in a mingled shower. + + Then thus the monarch, great Atrides, cried: + "Forbear, ye warriors! lay the darts aside: + A parley Hector asks, a message bears; + We know him by the various plume he wears." + Awed by his high command the Greeks attend, + The tumult silence, and the fight suspend. + + While from the centre Hector rolls his eyes + On either host, and thus to both applies: + "Hear, all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian bands, + What Paris, author of the war, demands. + Your shining swords within the sheath restrain, + And pitch your lances in the yielding plain. + Here in the midst, in either army's sight, + He dares the Spartan king to single fight; + And wills that Helen and the ravish'd spoil, + That caused the contest, shall reward the toil. + Let these the brave triumphant victor grace, + And different nations part in leagues of peace." + + He spoke: in still suspense on either side + Each army stood: the Spartan chief replied: + + "Me too, ye warriors, hear, whose fatal right + A world engages in the toils of fight. + To me the labour of the field resign; + Me Paris injured; all the war be mine. + Fall he that must, beneath his rival's arms; + And live the rest, secure of future harms. + Two lambs, devoted by your country's rite, + To earth a sable, to the sun a white, + Prepare, ye Trojans! while a third we bring + Select to Jove, the inviolable king. + Let reverend Priam in the truce engage, + And add the sanction of considerate age; + His sons are faithless, headlong in debate, + And youth itself an empty wavering state; + Cool age advances, venerably wise, + Turns on all hands its deep-discerning eyes; + Sees what befell, and what may yet befall, + Concludes from both, and best provides for all. + + The nations hear with rising hopes possess'd, + And peaceful prospects dawn in every breast. + Within the lines they drew their steeds around, + And from their chariots issued on the ground; + Next, all unbuckling the rich mail they wore, + Laid their bright arms along the sable shore. + On either side the meeting hosts are seen + With lances fix'd, and close the space between. + Two heralds now, despatch'd to Troy, invite + The Phrygian monarch to the peaceful rite. + + Talthybius hastens to the fleet, to bring + The lamb for Jove, the inviolable king. + + Meantime to beauteous Helen, from the skies + The various goddess of the rainbow flies: + (Like fair Laodice in form and face, + The loveliest nymph of Priam's royal race:) + Her in the palace, at her loom she found; + The golden web her own sad story crown'd, + The Trojan wars she weaved (herself the prize) + And the dire triumphs of her fatal eyes. + To whom the goddess of the painted bow: + "Approach, and view the wondrous scene below!(112) + Each hardy Greek, and valiant Trojan knight, + So dreadful late, and furious for the fight, + Now rest their spears, or lean upon their shields; + Ceased is the war, and silent all the fields. + Paris alone and Sparta's king advance, + In single fight to toss the beamy lance; + Each met in arms, the fate of combat tries, + Thy love the motive, and thy charms the prize." + + This said, the many-coloured maid inspires + Her husband's love, and wakes her former fires; + Her country, parents, all that once were dear, + Rush to her thought, and force a tender tear, + O'er her fair face a snowy veil she threw, + And, softly sighing, from the loom withdrew. + Her handmaids, Clymene and AEthra, wait + Her silent footsteps to the Scaean gate. + + There sat the seniors of the Trojan race: + (Old Priam's chiefs, and most in Priam's grace,) + The king the first; Thymoetes at his side; + Lampus and Clytius, long in council tried; + Panthus, and Hicetaon, once the strong; + And next, the wisest of the reverend throng, + Antenor grave, and sage Ucalegon, + Lean'd on the walls and bask'd before the sun: + Chiefs, who no more in bloody fights engage, + But wise through time, and narrative with age, + In summer days, like grasshoppers rejoice, + A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice. + These, when the Spartan queen approach'd the tower, + In secret own'd resistless beauty's power: + They cried, "No wonder such celestial charms(113) + For nine long years have set the world in arms; + What winning graces! what majestic mien! + She moves a goddess, and she looks a queen! + Yet hence, O Heaven, convey that fatal face, + And from destruction save the Trojan race." + + The good old Priam welcomed her, and cried, + "Approach, my child, and grace thy father's side. + See on the plain thy Grecian spouse appears, + The friends and kindred of thy former years. + No crime of thine our present sufferings draws, + Not thou, but Heaven's disposing will, the cause + The gods these armies and this force employ, + The hostile gods conspire the fate of Troy. + But lift thy eyes, and say, what Greek is he + (Far as from hence these aged orbs can see) + Around whose brow such martial graces shine, + So tall, so awful, and almost divine! + Though some of larger stature tread the green, + None match his grandeur and exalted mien: + He seems a monarch, and his country's pride." + Thus ceased the king, and thus the fair replied: + + "Before thy presence, father, I appear, + With conscious shame and reverential fear. + Ah! had I died, ere to these walk I fled, + False to my country, and my nuptial bed; + My brothers, friends, and daughter left behind, + False to them all, to Paris only kind! + For this I mourn, till grief or dire disease + Shall waste the form whose fault it was to please! + The king of kings, Atrides, you survey, + Great in the war, and great in arts of sway: + My brother once, before my days of shame! + And oh! that still he bore a brother's name!" + + With wonder Priam view'd the godlike man, + Extoll'd the happy prince, and thus began: + "O bless'd Atrides! born to prosperous fate, + Successful monarch of a mighty state! + How vast thy empire! Of your matchless train + What numbers lost, what numbers yet remain! + In Phrygia once were gallant armies known, + In ancient time, when Otreus fill'd the throne, + When godlike Mygdon led their troops of horse, + And I, to join them, raised the Trojan force: + Against the manlike Amazons we stood,(114) + And Sangar's stream ran purple with their blood. + But far inferior those, in martial grace, + And strength of numbers, to this Grecian race." + + This said, once more he view'd the warrior train; + "What's he, whose arms lie scatter'd on the plain? + Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger spread, + Though great Atrides overtops his head. + Nor yet appear his care and conduct small; + From rank to rank he moves, and orders all. + The stately ram thus measures o'er the ground, + And, master of the flock, surveys them round." + + Then Helen thus: "Whom your discerning eyes + Have singled out, is Ithacus the wise; + A barren island boasts his glorious birth; + His fame for wisdom fills the spacious earth." + + Antenor took the word, and thus began:(115) + "Myself, O king! have seen that wondrous man + When, trusting Jove and hospitable laws, + To Troy he came, to plead the Grecian cause; + (Great Menelaus urged the same request;) + My house was honour'd with each royal guest: + I knew their persons, and admired their parts, + Both brave in arms, and both approved in arts. + Erect, the Spartan most engaged our view; + Ulysses seated, greater reverence drew. + When Atreus' son harangued the listening train, + Just was his sense, and his expression plain, + His words succinct, yet full, without a fault; + He spoke no more than just the thing he ought. + But when Ulysses rose, in thought profound,(116) + His modest eyes he fix'd upon the ground; + As one unskill'd or dumb, he seem'd to stand, + Nor raised his head, nor stretch'd his sceptred hand; + But, when he speaks, what elocution flows! + Soft as the fleeces of descending snows,(117) + The copious accents fall, with easy art; + Melting they fall, and sink into the heart! + Wondering we hear, and fix'd in deep surprise, + Our ears refute the censure of our eyes." + + The king then ask'd (as yet the camp he view'd) + "What chief is that, with giant strength endued, + Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling chest, + And lofty stature, far exceed the rest? + "Ajax the great, (the beauteous queen replied,) + Himself a host: the Grecian strength and pride. + See! bold Idomeneus superior towers + Amid yon circle of his Cretan powers, + Great as a god! I saw him once before, + With Menelaus on the Spartan shore. + The rest I know, and could in order name; + All valiant chiefs, and men of mighty fame. + Yet two are wanting of the numerous train, + Whom long my eyes have sought, but sought in vain: + Castor and Pollux, first in martial force, + One bold on foot, and one renown'd for horse. + My brothers these; the same our native shore, + One house contain'd us, as one mother bore. + Perhaps the chiefs, from warlike toils at ease, + For distant Troy refused to sail the seas; + Perhaps their swords some nobler quarrel draws, + Ashamed to combat in their sister's cause." + + So spoke the fair, nor knew her brothers' doom;(118) + Wrapt in the cold embraces of the tomb; + Adorn'd with honours in their native shore, + Silent they slept, and heard of wars no more. + + Meantime the heralds, through the crowded town. + Bring the rich wine and destined victims down. + Idaeus' arms the golden goblets press'd,(119) + Who thus the venerable king address'd: + "Arise, O father of the Trojan state! + The nations call, thy joyful people wait + To seal the truce, and end the dire debate. + Paris, thy son, and Sparta's king advance, + In measured lists to toss the weighty lance; + And who his rival shall in arms subdue, + His be the dame, and his the treasure too. + Thus with a lasting league our toils may cease, + And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace: + So shall the Greeks review their native shore, + Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more." + + With grief he heard, and bade the chiefs prepare + To join his milk-white coursers to the car; + He mounts the seat, Antenor at his side; + The gentle steeds through Scaea's gates they guide:(120) + Next from the car descending on the plain, + Amid the Grecian host and Trojan train, + Slow they proceed: the sage Ulysses then + Arose, and with him rose the king of men. + On either side a sacred herald stands, + The wine they mix, and on each monarch's hands + Pour the full urn; then draws the Grecian lord + His cutlass sheathed beside his ponderous sword; + From the sign'd victims crops the curling hair;(121) + The heralds part it, and the princes share; + Then loudly thus before the attentive bands + He calls the gods, and spreads his lifted hands: + + "O first and greatest power! whom all obey, + Who high on Ida's holy mountain sway, + Eternal Jove! and you bright orb that roll + From east to west, and view from pole to pole! + Thou mother Earth! and all ye living floods! + Infernal furies, and Tartarean gods, + Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare + For perjured kings, and all who falsely swear! + Hear, and be witness. If, by Paris slain, + Great Menelaus press the fatal plain; + The dame and treasures let the Trojan keep, + And Greece returning plough the watery deep. + If by my brother's lance the Trojan bleed, + Be his the wealth and beauteous dame decreed: + The appointed fine let Ilion justly pay, + And every age record the signal day. + This if the Phrygians shall refuse to yield, + Arms must revenge, and Mars decide the field." + + With that the chief the tender victims slew, + And in the dust their bleeding bodies threw; + The vital spirit issued at the wound, + And left the members quivering on the ground. + From the same urn they drink the mingled wine, + And add libations to the powers divine. + While thus their prayers united mount the sky, + "Hear, mighty Jove! and hear, ye gods on high! + And may their blood, who first the league confound, + Shed like this wine, disdain the thirsty ground; + May all their consorts serve promiscuous lust, + And all their lust be scatter'd as the dust!" + Thus either host their imprecations join'd, + Which Jove refused, and mingled with the wind. + + The rites now finish'd, reverend Priam rose, + And thus express'd a heart o'ercharged with woes: + "Ye Greeks and Trojans, let the chiefs engage, + But spare the weakness of my feeble age: + In yonder walls that object let me shun, + Nor view the danger of so dear a son. + Whose arms shall conquer and what prince shall fall, + Heaven only knows; for heaven disposes all." + + This said, the hoary king no longer stay'd, + But on his car the slaughter'd victims laid: + Then seized the reins his gentle steeds to guide, + And drove to Troy, Antenor at his side. + + Bold Hector and Ulysses now dispose + The lists of combat, and the ground inclose: + Next to decide, by sacred lots prepare, + Who first shall launch his pointed spear in air. + The people pray with elevated hands, + And words like these are heard through all the bands: + "Immortal Jove, high Heaven's superior lord, + On lofty Ida's holy mount adored! + Whoe'er involved us in this dire debate, + O give that author of the war to fate + And shades eternal! let division cease, + And joyful nations join in leagues of peace." + + With eyes averted Hector hastes to turn + The lots of fight and shakes the brazen urn. + Then, Paris, thine leap'd forth; by fatal chance + Ordain'd the first to whirl the weighty lance. + Both armies sat the combat to survey. + Beside each chief his azure armour lay, + And round the lists the generous coursers neigh. + The beauteous warrior now arrays for fight, + In gilded arms magnificently bright: + The purple cuishes clasp his thighs around, + With flowers adorn'd, with silver buckles bound: + Lycaon's corslet his fair body dress'd, + Braced in and fitted to his softer breast; + A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder tied, + Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side: + His youthful face a polish'd helm o'erspread; + The waving horse-hair nodded on his head: + His figured shield, a shining orb, he takes, + And in his hand a pointed javelin shakes. + With equal speed and fired by equal charms, + The Spartan hero sheathes his limbs in arms. + + Now round the lists the admiring armies stand, + With javelins fix'd, the Greek and Trojan band. + Amidst the dreadful vale, the chiefs advance, + All pale with rage, and shake the threatening lance. + The Trojan first his shining javelin threw; + Full on Atrides' ringing shield it flew, + Nor pierced the brazen orb, but with a bound(122) + Leap'd from the buckler, blunted, on the ground. + Atrides then his massy lance prepares, + In act to throw, but first prefers his prayers: + + "Give me, great Jove! to punish lawless lust, + And lay the Trojan gasping in the dust: + Destroy the aggressor, aid my righteous cause, + Avenge the breach of hospitable laws! + Let this example future times reclaim, + And guard from wrong fair friendship's holy name." + Be said, and poised in air the javelin sent, + Through Paris' shield the forceful weapon went, + His corslet pierces, and his garment rends, + And glancing downward, near his flank descends. + The wary Trojan, bending from the blow, + Eludes the death, and disappoints his foe: + But fierce Atrides waved his sword, and strook + Full on his casque: the crested helmet shook; + The brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand, + Broke short: the fragments glitter'd on the sand. + The raging warrior to the spacious skies + Raised his upbraiding voice and angry eyes: + "Then is it vain in Jove himself to trust? + And is it thus the gods assist the just? + When crimes provoke us, Heaven success denies; + The dart falls harmless, and the falchion flies." + Furious he said, and towards the Grecian crew + (Seized by the crest) the unhappy warrior drew; + Struggling he followed, while the embroider'd thong + That tied his helmet, dragg'd the chief along. + Then had his ruin crown'd Atrides' joy, + But Venus trembled for the prince of Troy: + Unseen she came, and burst the golden band; + And left an empty helmet in his hand. + The casque, enraged, amidst the Greeks he threw; + The Greeks with smiles the polish'd trophy view. + Then, as once more he lifts the deadly dart, + In thirst of vengeance, at his rival's heart; + The queen of love her favour'd champion shrouds + (For gods can all things) in a veil of clouds. + Raised from the field the panting youth she led, + And gently laid him on the bridal bed, + With pleasing sweets his fainting sense renews, + And all the dome perfumes with heavenly dews. + Meantime the brightest of the female kind, + The matchless Helen, o'er the walls reclined; + To her, beset with Trojan beauties, came, + In borrow'd form, the laughter-loving dame. + (She seem'd an ancient maid, well-skill'd to cull + The snowy fleece, and wind the twisted wool.) + The goddess softly shook her silken vest, + That shed perfumes, and whispering thus address'd: + +[Illustration: VENUS, DISGUISED, INVITING HELEN TO THE CHAMBER OF PARIS.] + + VENUS, DISGUISED, INVITING HELEN TO THE CHAMBER OF PARIS. + + + "Haste, happy nymph! for thee thy Paris calls, + Safe from the fight, in yonder lofty walls, + Fair as a god; with odours round him spread, + He lies, and waits thee on the well-known bed; + Not like a warrior parted from the foe, + But some gay dancer in the public show." + + She spoke, and Helen's secret soul was moved; + She scorn'd the champion, but the man she loved. + Fair Venus' neck, her eyes that sparkled fire, + And breast, reveal'd the queen of soft desire.(123) + Struck with her presence, straight the lively red + Forsook her cheek; and trembling, thus she said: + "Then is it still thy pleasure to deceive? + And woman's frailty always to believe! + Say, to new nations must I cross the main, + Or carry wars to some soft Asian plain? + For whom must Helen break her second vow? + What other Paris is thy darling now? + Left to Atrides, (victor in the strife,) + An odious conquest and a captive wife, + Hence let me sail; and if thy Paris bear + My absence ill, let Venus ease his care. + A handmaid goddess at his side to wait, + Renounce the glories of thy heavenly state, + Be fix'd for ever to the Trojan shore, + His spouse, or slave; and mount the skies no more. + For me, to lawless love no longer led, + I scorn the coward, and detest his bed; + Else should I merit everlasting shame, + And keen reproach, from every Phrygian dame: + Ill suits it now the joys of love to know, + Too deep my anguish, and too wild my woe." + + [Illustration: VENUS PRESENTING HELEN TO PARIS.] + + VENUS PRESENTING HELEN TO PARIS. + + + Then thus incensed, the Paphian queen replies: + "Obey the power from whom thy glories rise: + Should Venus leave thee, every charm must fly, + Fade from thy cheek, and languish in thy eye. + Cease to provoke me, lest I make thee more + The world's aversion, than their love before; + Now the bright prize for which mankind engage, + Than, the sad victim, of the public rage." + + At this, the fairest of her sex obey'd, + And veil'd her blushes in a silken shade; + Unseen, and silent, from the train she moves, + Led by the goddess of the Smiles and Loves. + Arrived, and enter'd at the palace gate, + The maids officious round their mistress wait; + Then, all dispersing, various tasks attend; + The queen and goddess to the prince ascend. + Full in her Paris' sight, the queen of love + Had placed the beauteous progeny of Jove; + Where, as he view'd her charms, she turn'd away + Her glowing eyes, and thus began to say: + + "Is this the chief, who, lost to sense of shame, + Late fled the field, and yet survives his fame? + O hadst thou died beneath the righteous sword + Of that brave man whom once I call'd my lord! + The boaster Paris oft desired the day + With Sparta's king to meet in single fray: + Go now, once more thy rival's rage excite, + Provoke Atrides, and renew the fight: + Yet Helen bids thee stay, lest thou unskill'd + Shouldst fall an easy conquest on the field." + + The prince replies: "Ah cease, divinely fair, + Nor add reproaches to the wounds I bear; + This day the foe prevail'd by Pallas' power: + We yet may vanquish in a happier hour: + There want not gods to favour us above; + But let the business of our life be love: + These softer moments let delights employ, + And kind embraces snatch the hasty joy. + Not thus I loved thee, when from Sparta's shore + My forced, my willing heavenly prize I bore, + When first entranced in Cranae's isle I lay,(124) + Mix'd with thy soul, and all dissolved away!" + Thus having spoke, the enamour'd Phrygian boy + Rush'd to the bed, impatient for the joy. + Him Helen follow'd slow with bashful charms, + And clasp'd the blooming hero in her arms. + + While these to love's delicious rapture yield, + The stern Atrides rages round the field: + So some fell lion whom the woods obey, + Roars through the desert, and demands his prey. + Paris he seeks, impatient to destroy, + But seeks in vain along the troops of Troy; + Even those had yielded to a foe so brave + The recreant warrior, hateful as the grave. + Then speaking thus, the king of kings arose, + "Ye Trojans, Dardans, all our generous foes! + Hear and attest! from Heaven with conquest crown'd, + Our brother's arms the just success have found: + Be therefore now the Spartan wealth restor'd, + Let Argive Helen own her lawful lord; + The appointed fine let Ilion justly pay, + And age to age record this signal day." + + He ceased; his army's loud applauses rise, + And the long shout runs echoing through the skies. + + [Illustration: VENUS.] + + VENUS. + + + [Illustration: Map, titled "Graeciae Antiquae".] + + Map, titled "Graeciae Antiquae". + + + + + +BOOK IV. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE BREACH OF THE TRUCE, AND THE FIRST BATTLE. + +The gods deliberate in council concerning the Trojan war: they agree upon +the continuation of it, and Jupiter sends down Minerva to break the truce. +She persuades Pandarus to aim an arrow at Menelaus, who is wounded, but +cured by Machaon. In the meantime some of the Trojan troops attack the +Greeks. Agamemnon is distinguished in all the parts of a good general; he +reviews the troops, and exhorts the leaders, some by praises and others by +reproof. Nestor is particularly celebrated for his military discipline. +The battle joins, and great numbers are slain on both sides. + +The same day continues through this as through the last book (as it does +also through the two following, and almost to the end of the seventh +book). The scene is wholly in the field before Troy. + + And now Olympus' shining gates unfold; + The gods, with Jove, assume their thrones of gold: + Immortal Hebe, fresh with bloom divine, + The golden goblet crowns with purple wine: + While the full bowls flow round, the powers employ + Their careful eyes on long-contended Troy. + + When Jove, disposed to tempt Saturnia's spleen, + Thus waked the fury of his partial queen, + "Two powers divine the son of Atreus aid, + Imperial Juno, and the martial maid;(125) + But high in heaven they sit, and gaze from far, + The tame spectators of his deeds of war. + Not thus fair Venus helps her favour'd knight, + The queen of pleasures shares the toils of fight, + Each danger wards, and constant in her care, + Saves in the moment of the last despair. + Her act has rescued Paris' forfeit life, + Though great Atrides gain'd the glorious strife. + Then say, ye powers! what signal issue waits + To crown this deed, and finish all the fates! + Shall Heaven by peace the bleeding kingdoms spare, + Or rouse the furies, and awake the war? + Yet, would the gods for human good provide, + Atrides soon might gain his beauteous bride, + Still Priam's walls in peaceful honours grow, + And through his gates the crowding nations flow." + + Thus while he spoke, the queen of heaven, enraged, + And queen of war, in close consult engaged: + Apart they sit, their deep designs employ, + And meditate the future woes of Troy. + Though secret anger swell'd Minerva's breast, + The prudent goddess yet her wrath suppress'd; + But Juno, impotent of passion, broke + Her sullen silence, and with fury spoke: + + [Illustration: THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS.] + + THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS. + + + "Shall then, O tyrant of the ethereal reign! + My schemes, my labours, and my hopes be vain? + Have I, for this, shook Ilion with alarms, + Assembled nations, set two worlds in arms? + To spread the war, I flew from shore to shore; + The immortal coursers scarce the labour bore. + At length ripe vengeance o'er their heads impends, + But Jove himself the faithless race defends. + Loth as thou art to punish lawless lust, + Not all the gods are partial and unjust." + + The sire whose thunder shakes the cloudy skies, + Sighs from his inmost soul, and thus replies: + "Oh lasting rancour! oh insatiate hate + To Phrygia's monarch, and the Phrygian state! + What high offence has fired the wife of Jove? + Can wretched mortals harm the powers above, + That Troy, and Troy's whole race thou wouldst confound, + And yon fair structures level with the ground! + Haste, leave the skies, fulfil thy stern desire, + Burst all her gates, and wrap her walls in fire! + Let Priam bleed! if yet you thirst for more, + Bleed all his sons, and Ilion float with gore: + To boundless vengeance the wide realm be given, + Till vast destruction glut the queen of heaven! + So let it be, and Jove his peace enjoy,(126) + When heaven no longer hears the name of Troy. + But should this arm prepare to wreak our hate + On thy loved realms, whose guilt demands their fate; + Presume not thou the lifted bolt to stay, + Remember Troy, and give the vengeance way. + For know, of all the numerous towns that rise + Beneath the rolling sun and starry skies, + Which gods have raised, or earth-born men enjoy, + None stands so dear to Jove as sacred Troy. + No mortals merit more distinguish'd grace + Than godlike Priam, or than Priam's race. + Still to our name their hecatombs expire, + And altars blaze with unextinguish'd fire." + + At this the goddess rolled her radiant eyes, + Then on the Thunderer fix'd them, and replies: + "Three towns are Juno's on the Grecian plains, + More dear than all the extended earth contains, + Mycenae, Argos, and the Spartan wall;(127) + + These thou mayst raze, nor I forbid their fall: + 'Tis not in me the vengeance to remove; + The crime's sufficient that they share my love. + Of power superior why should I complain? + Resent I may, but must resent in vain. + Yet some distinction Juno might require, + Sprung with thyself from one celestial sire, + A goddess born, to share the realms above, + And styled the consort of the thundering Jove; + Nor thou a wife and sister's right deny;(128) + Let both consent, and both by terms comply; + So shall the gods our joint decrees obey, + And heaven shall act as we direct the way. + See ready Pallas waits thy high commands + To raise in arms the Greek and Phrygian bands; + Their sudden friendship by her arts may cease, + And the proud Trojans first infringe the peace." + + The sire of men and monarch of the sky + The advice approved, and bade Minerva fly, + Dissolve the league, and all her arts employ + To make the breach the faithless act of Troy. + Fired with the charge, she headlong urged her flight, + And shot like lightning from Olympus' height. + As the red comet, from Saturnius sent + To fright the nations with a dire portent, + (A fatal sign to armies on the plain, + Or trembling sailors on the wintry main,) + With sweeping glories glides along in air, + And shakes the sparkles from its blazing hair:(129) + Between both armies thus, in open sight + Shot the bright goddess in a trail of light, + With eyes erect the gazing hosts admire + The power descending, and the heavens on fire! + "The gods (they cried), the gods this signal sent, + And fate now labours with some vast event: + Jove seals the league, or bloodier scenes prepares; + Jove, the great arbiter of peace and wars." + + They said, while Pallas through the Trojan throng, + (In shape a mortal,) pass'd disguised along. + Like bold Laodocus, her course she bent, + Who from Antenor traced his high descent. + Amidst the ranks Lycaon's son she found, + The warlike Pandarus, for strength renown'd; + Whose squadrons, led from black AEsepus' flood,(130) + With flaming shields in martial circle stood. + To him the goddess: "Phrygian! canst thou hear + A well-timed counsel with a willing ear? + What praise were thine, couldst thou direct thy dart, + Amidst his triumph, to the Spartan's heart? + What gifts from Troy, from Paris wouldst thou gain, + Thy country's foe, the Grecian glory slain? + Then seize the occasion, dare the mighty deed, + Aim at his breast, and may that aim succeed! + But first, to speed the shaft, address thy vow + To Lycian Phoebus with the silver bow, + And swear the firstlings of thy flock to pay, + On Zelia's altars, to the god of day."(131) + + He heard, and madly at the motion pleased, + His polish'd bow with hasty rashness seized. + 'Twas form'd of horn, and smooth'd with artful toil: + A mountain goat resign'd the shining spoil. + Who pierced long since beneath his arrows bled; + The stately quarry on the cliffs lay dead, + And sixteen palms his brow's large honours spread: + The workmen join'd, and shaped the bended horns, + And beaten gold each taper point adorns. + This, by the Greeks unseen, the warrior bends, + Screen'd by the shields of his surrounding friends: + There meditates the mark; and couching low, + Fits the sharp arrow to the well-strung bow. + One from a hundred feather'd deaths he chose, + Fated to wound, and cause of future woes; + Then offers vows with hecatombs to crown + Apollo's altars in his native town. + + Now with full force the yielding horn he bends, + Drawn to an arch, and joins the doubling ends; + Close to his breast he strains the nerve below, + Till the barb'd points approach the circling bow; + The impatient weapon whizzes on the wing; + Sounds the tough horn, and twangs the quivering string. + + But thee, Atrides! in that dangerous hour + The gods forget not, nor thy guardian power, + Pallas assists, and (weakened in its force) + Diverts the weapon from its destined course: + So from her babe, when slumber seals his eye, + The watchful mother wafts the envenom'd fly. + Just where his belt with golden buckles join'd, + Where linen folds the double corslet lined, + She turn'd the shaft, which, hissing from above, + Pass'd the broad belt, and through the corslet drove; + The folds it pierced, the plaited linen tore, + And razed the skin, and drew the purple gore. + As when some stately trappings are decreed + To grace a monarch on his bounding steed, + A nymph in Caria or Maeonia bred, + Stains the pure ivory with a lively red; + With equal lustre various colours vie, + The shining whiteness, and the Tyrian dye: + So great Atrides! show'd thy sacred blood, + As down thy snowy thigh distill'd the streaming flood. + With horror seized, the king of men descried + The shaft infix'd, and saw the gushing tide: + Nor less the Spartan fear'd, before he found + The shining barb appear above the wound, + Then, with a sigh, that heaved his manly breast, + The royal brother thus his grief express'd, + And grasp'd his hand; while all the Greeks around + With answering sighs return'd the plaintive sound. + + "Oh, dear as life! did I for this agree + The solemn truce, a fatal truce to thee! + Wert thou exposed to all the hostile train, + To fight for Greece, and conquer, to be slain! + The race of Trojans in thy ruin join, + And faith is scorn'd by all the perjured line. + Not thus our vows, confirm'd with wine and gore, + Those hands we plighted, and those oaths we swore, + Shall all be vain: when Heaven's revenge is slow, + Jove but prepares to strike the fiercer blow. + The day shall come, that great avenging day, + When Troy's proud glories in the dust shall lay, + When Priam's powers and Priam's self shall fall, + And one prodigious ruin swallow all. + I see the god, already, from the pole + Bare his red arm, and bid the thunder roll; + I see the Eternal all his fury shed, + And shake his aegis o'er their guilty head. + Such mighty woes on perjured princes wait; + But thou, alas! deserv'st a happier fate. + Still must I mourn the period of thy days, + And only mourn, without my share of praise? + Deprived of thee, the heartless Greeks no more + Shall dream of conquests on the hostile shore; + Troy seized of Helen, and our glory lost, + Thy bones shall moulder on a foreign coast; + While some proud Trojan thus insulting cries, + (And spurns the dust where Menelaus lies,) + 'Such are the trophies Greece from Ilion brings, + And such the conquest of her king of kings! + Lo his proud vessels scatter'd o'er the main, + And unrevenged, his mighty brother slain.' + Oh! ere that dire disgrace shall blast my fame, + O'erwhelm me, earth! and hide a monarch's shame." + + He said: a leader's and a brother's fears + Possess his soul, which thus the Spartan cheers: + "Let not thy words the warmth of Greece abate; + The feeble dart is guiltless of my fate: + Stiff with the rich embroider'd work around, + My varied belt repell'd the flying wound." + + To whom the king: "My brother and my friend, + Thus, always thus, may Heaven thy life defend! + Now seek some skilful hand, whose powerful art + May stanch the effusion, and extract the dart. + Herald, be swift, and bid Machaon bring + His speedy succour to the Spartan king; + Pierced with a winged shaft (the deed of Troy), + The Grecian's sorrow, and the Dardan's joy." + + With hasty zeal the swift Talthybius flies; + Through the thick files he darts his searching eyes, + And finds Machaon, where sublime he stands(132) + In arms incircled with his native bands. + Then thus: "Machaon, to the king repair, + His wounded brother claims thy timely care; + Pierced by some Lycian or Dardanian bow, + A grief to us, a triumph to the foe." + + The heavy tidings grieved the godlike man + Swift to his succour through the ranks he ran. + The dauntless king yet standing firm he found, + And all the chiefs in deep concern around. + Where to the steely point the reed was join'd, + The shaft he drew, but left the head behind. + Straight the broad belt with gay embroidery graced, + He loosed; the corslet from his breast unbraced; + Then suck'd the blood, and sovereign balm infused,(133) + Which Chiron gave, and AEsculapius used. + + While round the prince the Greeks employ their care, + The Trojans rush tumultuous to the war; + Once more they glitter in refulgent arms, + Once more the fields are fill'd with dire alarms. + Nor had you seen the king of men appear + Confused, unactive, or surprised with fear; + But fond of glory, with severe delight, + His beating bosom claim'd the rising fight. + No longer with his warlike steeds he stay'd, + Or press'd the car with polish'd brass inlaid + But left Eurymedon the reins to guide; + The fiery coursers snorted at his side. + On foot through all the martial ranks he moves + And these encourages, and those reproves. + "Brave men!" he cries, (to such who boldly dare + Urge their swift steeds to face the coming war), + "Your ancient valour on the foes approve; + Jove is with Greece, and let us trust in Jove. + 'Tis not for us, but guilty Troy, to dread, + Whose crimes sit heavy on her perjured head; + Her sons and matrons Greece shall lead in chains, + And her dead warriors strew the mournful plains." + + Thus with new ardour he the brave inspires; + Or thus the fearful with reproaches fires: + "Shame to your country, scandal of your kind; + Born to the fate ye well deserve to find! + Why stand ye gazing round the dreadful plain, + Prepared for flight, but doom'd to fly in vain? + Confused and panting thus, the hunted deer + Falls as he flies, a victim to his fear. + Still must ye wait the foes, and still retire, + Till yon tall vessels blaze with Trojan fire? + Or trust ye, Jove a valiant foe shall chase, + To save a trembling, heartless, dastard race?" + + This said, he stalk'd with ample strides along, + To Crete's brave monarch and his martial throng; + High at their head he saw the chief appear, + And bold Meriones excite the rear. + At this the king his generous joy express'd, + And clasp'd the warrior to his armed breast. + "Divine Idomeneus! what thanks we owe + To worth like thine! what praise shall we bestow? + To thee the foremost honours are decreed, + First in the fight and every graceful deed. + For this, in banquets, when the generous bowls + Restore our blood, and raise the warriors' souls, + Though all the rest with stated rules we bound, + Unmix'd, unmeasured, are thy goblets crown'd. + Be still thyself, in arms a mighty name; + Maintain thy honours, and enlarge thy fame." + To whom the Cretan thus his speech address'd: + "Secure of me, O king! exhort the rest. + Fix'd to thy side, in every toil I share, + Thy firm associate in the day of war. + But let the signal be this moment given; + To mix in fight is all I ask of Heaven. + The field shall prove how perjuries succeed, + And chains or death avenge the impious deed." + + Charm'd with this heat, the king his course pursues, + And next the troops of either Ajax views: + In one firm orb the bands were ranged around, + A cloud of heroes blacken'd all the ground. + Thus from the lofty promontory's brow + A swain surveys the gathering storm below; + Slow from the main the heavy vapours rise, + Spread in dim streams, and sail along the skies, + Till black as night the swelling tempest shows, + The cloud condensing as the west-wind blows: + He dreads the impending storm, and drives his flock + To the close covert of an arching rock. + + Such, and so thick, the embattled squadrons stood, + With spears erect, a moving iron wood: + A shady light was shot from glimmering shields, + And their brown arms obscured the dusky fields. + + "O heroes! worthy such a dauntless train, + Whose godlike virtue we but urge in vain, + (Exclaim'd the king), who raise your eager bands + With great examples, more than loud commands. + Ah! would the gods but breathe in all the rest + Such souls as burn in your exalted breast, + Soon should our arms with just success be crown'd, + And Troy's proud walls lie smoking on the ground." + + Then to the next the general bends his course; + (His heart exults, and glories in his force); + There reverend Nestor ranks his Pylian bands, + And with inspiring eloquence commands; + With strictest order sets his train in arms, + The chiefs advises, and the soldiers warms. + Alastor, Chromius, Haemon, round him wait, + Bias the good, and Pelagon the great. + The horse and chariots to the front assign'd, + The foot (the strength of war) he ranged behind; + The middle space suspected troops supply, + Inclosed by both, nor left the power to fly; + He gives command to "curb the fiery steed, + Nor cause confusion, nor the ranks exceed: + Before the rest let none too rashly ride; + No strength nor skill, but just in time, be tried: + The charge once made, no warrior turn the rein, + But fight, or fall; a firm embodied train. + He whom the fortune of the field shall cast + From forth his chariot, mount the next in haste; + Nor seek unpractised to direct the car, + Content with javelins to provoke the war. + Our great forefathers held this prudent course, + Thus ruled their ardour, thus preserved their force; + By laws like these immortal conquests made, + And earth's proud tyrants low in ashes laid." + + So spoke the master of the martial art, + And touch'd with transport great Atrides' heart. + "Oh! hadst thou strength to match thy brave desires, + And nerves to second what thy soul inspires! + But wasting years, that wither human race, + Exhaust thy spirits, and thy arms unbrace. + What once thou wert, oh ever mightst thou be! + And age the lot of any chief but thee." + + Thus to the experienced prince Atrides cried; + He shook his hoary locks, and thus replied: + "Well might I wish, could mortal wish renew(134) + That strength which once in boiling youth I knew; + Such as I was, when Ereuthalion, slain + Beneath this arm, fell prostrate on the plain. + But heaven its gifts not all at once bestows, + These years with wisdom crowns, with action those: + The field of combat fits the young and bold, + The solemn council best becomes the old: + To you the glorious conflict I resign, + Let sage advice, the palm of age, be mine." + + He said. With joy the monarch march'd before, + And found Menestheus on the dusty shore, + With whom the firm Athenian phalanx stands; + And next Ulysses, with his subject bands. + Remote their forces lay, nor knew so far + The peace infringed, nor heard the sounds of war; + The tumult late begun, they stood intent + To watch the motion, dubious of the event. + The king, who saw their squadrons yet unmoved, + With hasty ardour thus the chiefs reproved: + + "Can Peleus' son forget a warrior's part. + And fears Ulysses, skill'd in every art? + Why stand you distant, and the rest expect + To mix in combat which yourselves neglect? + From you 'twas hoped among the first to dare + The shock of armies, and commence the war; + For this your names are call'd before the rest, + To share the pleasures of the genial feast: + And can you, chiefs! without a blush survey + Whole troops before you labouring in the fray? + Say, is it thus those honours you requite? + The first in banquets, but the last in fight." + + Ulysses heard: the hero's warmth o'erspread + His cheek with blushes: and severe, he said: + "Take back the unjust reproach! Behold we stand + Sheathed in bright arms, and but expect command. + If glorious deeds afford thy soul delight, + Behold me plunging in the thickest fight. + Then give thy warrior-chief a warrior's due, + Who dares to act whate'er thou dar'st to view." + Struck with his generous wrath, the king replies: + + "O great in action, and in council wise! + With ours, thy care and ardour are the same, + Nor need I to commend, nor aught to blame. + Sage as thou art, and learn'd in human kind, + Forgive the transport of a martial mind. + Haste to the fight, secure of just amends; + The gods that make, shall keep the worthy, friends." + + He said, and pass'd where great Tydides lay, + His steeds and chariots wedged in firm array; + (The warlike Sthenelus attends his side;)(135) + To whom with stern reproach the monarch cried: + "O son of Tydeus! (he, whose strength could tame + The bounding steed, in arms a mighty name) + Canst thou, remote, the mingling hosts descry, + With hands unactive, and a careless eye? + Not thus thy sire the fierce encounter fear'd; + Still first in front the matchless prince appear'd: + What glorious toils, what wonders they recite, + Who view'd him labouring through the ranks of fight? + I saw him once, when gathering martial powers, + A peaceful guest, he sought Mycenae's towers; + Armies he ask'd, and armies had been given, + Not we denied, but Jove forbade from heaven; + While dreadful comets glaring from afar, + Forewarn'd the horrors of the Theban war.(136) + Next, sent by Greece from where Asopus flows, + A fearless envoy, he approach'd the foes; + Thebes' hostile walls unguarded and alone, + Dauntless he enters, and demands the throne. + The tyrant feasting with his chiefs he found, + And dared to combat all those chiefs around: + Dared, and subdued before their haughty lord; + For Pallas strung his arm and edged his sword. + Stung with the shame, within the winding way, + To bar his passage fifty warriors lay; + Two heroes led the secret squadron on, + Mason the fierce, and hardy Lycophon; + Those fifty slaughter'd in the gloomy vale. + He spared but one to bear the dreadful tale, + Such Tydeus was, and such his martial fire; + Gods! how the son degenerates from the sire!" + + No words the godlike Diomed return'd, + But heard respectful, and in secret burn'd: + Not so fierce Capaneus' undaunted son; + Stern as his sire, the boaster thus begun: + + "What needs, O monarch! this invidious praise, + Ourselves to lessen, while our sire you raise? + Dare to be just, Atrides! and confess + Our value equal, though our fury less. + With fewer troops we storm'd the Theban wall, + And happier saw the sevenfold city fall,(137) + In impious acts the guilty father died; + The sons subdued, for Heaven was on their side. + Far more than heirs of all our parents' fame, + Our glories darken their diminish'd name." + + To him Tydides thus: "My friend, forbear; + Suppress thy passion, and the king revere: + His high concern may well excuse this rage, + Whose cause we follow, and whose war we wage: + His the first praise, were Ilion's towers o'erthrown, + And, if we fail, the chief disgrace his own. + Let him the Greeks to hardy toils excite, + 'Tis ours to labour in the glorious fight." + + He spoke, and ardent, on the trembling ground + Sprung from his car: his ringing arms resound. + Dire was the clang, and dreadful from afar, + Of arm'd Tydides rushing to the war. + As when the winds, ascending by degrees,(138) + First move the whitening surface of the seas, + The billows float in order to the shore, + The wave behind rolls on the wave before; + Till, with the growing storm, the deeps arise, + Foam o'er the rocks, and thunder to the skies. + So to the fight the thick battalions throng, + Shields urged on shields, and men drove men along + Sedate and silent move the numerous bands; + No sound, no whisper, but the chief's commands, + Those only heard; with awe the rest obey, + As if some god had snatch'd their voice away. + Not so the Trojans; from their host ascends + A general shout that all the region rends. + As when the fleecy flocks unnumber'd stand + In wealthy folds, and wait the milker's hand, + The hollow vales incessant bleating fills, + The lambs reply from all the neighbouring hills: + Such clamours rose from various nations round, + Mix'd was the murmur, and confused the sound. + Each host now joins, and each a god inspires, + These Mars incites, and those Minerva fires, + Pale flight around, and dreadful terror reign; + And discord raging bathes the purple plain; + Discord! dire sister of the slaughtering power, + Small at her birth, but rising every hour, + While scarce the skies her horrid head can bound, + She stalks on earth, and shakes the world around;(139) + The nations bleed, where'er her steps she turns, + The groan still deepens, and the combat burns. + + Now shield with shield, with helmet helmet closed, + To armour armour, lance to lance opposed, + Host against host with shadowy squadrons drew, + The sounding darts in iron tempests flew, + Victors and vanquish'd join'd promiscuous cries, + And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise; + With streaming blood the slippery fields are dyed, + And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide. + + As torrents roll, increased by numerous rills, + With rage impetuous, down their echoing hills + Rush to the vales, and pour'd along the plain. + Roar through a thousand channels to the main: + The distant shepherd trembling hears the sound; + So mix both hosts, and so their cries rebound. + + The bold Antilochus the slaughter led, + The first who struck a valiant Trojan dead: + At great Echepolus the lance arrives, + Razed his high crest, and through his helmet drives; + Warm'd in the brain the brazen weapon lies, + And shades eternal settle o'er his eyes. + So sinks a tower, that long assaults had stood + Of force and fire, its walls besmear'd with blood. + Him, the bold leader of the Abantian throng,(140) + Seized to despoil, and dragg'd the corpse along: + But while he strove to tug the inserted dart, + Agenor's javelin reach'd the hero's heart. + His flank, unguarded by his ample shield, + Admits the lance: he falls, and spurns the field; + The nerves, unbraced, support his limbs no more; + The soul comes floating in a tide of gore. + Trojans and Greeks now gather round the slain; + The war renews, the warriors bleed again: + As o'er their prey rapacious wolves engage, + Man dies on man, and all is blood and rage. + + In blooming youth fair Simoisius fell, + Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell; + Fair Simoisius, whom his mother bore + Amid the flocks on silver Simois' shore: + The nymph descending from the hills of Ide, + To seek her parents on his flowery side, + Brought forth the babe, their common care and joy, + And thence from Simois named the lovely boy. + Short was his date! by dreadful Ajax slain, + He falls, and renders all their cares in vain! + So falls a poplar, that in watery ground + Raised high the head, with stately branches crown'd, + (Fell'd by some artist with his shining steel, + To shape the circle of the bending wheel,) + Cut down it lies, tall, smooth, and largely spread, + With all its beauteous honours on its head + There, left a subject to the wind and rain, + And scorch'd by suns, it withers on the plain + Thus pierced by Ajax, Simoisius lies + Stretch'd on the shore, and thus neglected dies. + + At Ajax, Antiphus his javelin threw; + The pointed lance with erring fury flew, + And Leucus, loved by wise Ulysses, slew. + He drops the corpse of Simoisius slain, + And sinks a breathless carcase on the plain. + This saw Ulysses, and with grief enraged, + Strode where the foremost of the foes engaged; + Arm'd with his spear, he meditates the wound, + In act to throw; but cautious look'd around, + Struck at his sight the Trojans backward drew, + And trembling heard the javelin as it flew. + A chief stood nigh, who from Abydos came, + Old Priam's son, Democoon was his name. + The weapon entered close above his ear, + Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear;(141) + With piercing shrieks the youth resigns his breath, + His eye-balls darken with the shades of death; + Ponderous he falls; his clanging arms resound, + And his broad buckler rings against the ground. + + Seized with affright the boldest foes appear; + E'en godlike Hector seems himself to fear; + Slow he gave way, the rest tumultuous fled; + The Greeks with shouts press on, and spoil the dead: + But Phoebus now from Ilion's towering height + Shines forth reveal'd, and animates the fight. + "Trojans, be bold, and force with force oppose; + Your foaming steeds urge headlong on the foes! + Nor are their bodies rocks, nor ribb'd with steel; + Your weapons enter, and your strokes they feel. + Have ye forgot what seem'd your dread before? + The great, the fierce Achilles fights no more." + + Apollo thus from Ilion's lofty towers, + Array'd in terrors, roused the Trojan powers: + While war's fierce goddess fires the Grecian foe, + And shouts and thunders in the fields below. + Then great Diores fell, by doom divine, + In vain his valour and illustrious line. + A broken rock the force of Pyrus threw, + (Who from cold AEnus led the Thracian crew,)(142) + Full on his ankle dropp'd the ponderous stone, + Burst the strong nerves, and crash'd the solid bone. + Supine he tumbles on the crimson sands, + Before his helpless friends, and native bands, + And spreads for aid his unavailing hands. + The foe rush'd furious as he pants for breath, + And through his navel drove the pointed death: + His gushing entrails smoked upon the ground, + And the warm life came issuing from the wound. + + His lance bold Thoas at the conqueror sent, + Deep in his breast above the pap it went, + Amid the lungs was fix'd the winged wood, + And quivering in his heaving bosom stood: + Till from the dying chief, approaching near, + The AEtolian warrior tugg'd his weighty spear: + Then sudden waved his flaming falchion round, + And gash'd his belly with a ghastly wound; + The corpse now breathless on the bloody plain, + To spoil his arms the victor strove in vain; + The Thracian bands against the victor press'd, + A grove of lances glitter'd at his breast. + Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes, + In sullen fury slowly quits the prize. + + Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of Thrace, + And one the leader of the Epeian race; + Death's sable shade at once o'ercast their eyes, + In dust the vanquish'd and the victor lies. + With copious slaughter all the fields are red, + And heap'd with growing mountains of the dead. + + Had some brave chief this martial scene beheld, + By Pallas guarded through the dreadful field; + Might darts be bid to turn their points away, + And swords around him innocently play; + The war's whole art with wonder had he seen, + And counted heroes where he counted men. + + So fought each host, with thirst of glory fired, + And crowds on crowds triumphantly expired. + + [Illustration: Map of the Plain of Troy.] + + Map of the Plain of Troy. + + + + + +BOOK V. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE ACTS OF DIOMED. + +Diomed, assisted by Pallas, performs wonders in this day's battle. +Pandarus wounds him with an arrow, but the goddess cures him, enables him +to discern gods from mortals, and prohibits him from contending with any +of the former, excepting Venus. AEneas joins Pandarus to oppose him; +Pandarus is killed, and AEneas in great danger but for the assistance of +Venus; who, as she is removing her son from the fight, is wounded on the +hand by Diomed. Apollo seconds her in his rescue, and at length carries +off AEneas to Troy, where he is healed in the temple of Pergamus. Mars +rallies the Trojans, and assists Hector to make a stand. In the meantime +AEneas is restored to the field, and they overthrow several of the Greeks; +among the rest Tlepolemus is slain by Sarpedon. Juno and Minerva descend +to resist Mars; the latter incites Diomed to go against that god; he +wounds him, and sends him groaning to heaven. + +The first battle continues through this book. The scene is the same as in +the former. + + But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,(143) + Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires, + Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise, + And crown her hero with distinguish'd praise. + High on his helm celestial lightnings play, + His beamy shield emits a living ray; + The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies, + Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies, + When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight, + And, bathed in ocean, shoots a keener light. + Such glories Pallas on the chief bestow'd, + Such, from his arms, the fierce effulgence flow'd: + Onward she drives him, furious to engage, + Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage. + + The sons of Dares first the combat sought, + A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault; + In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led, + The sons to toils of glorious battle bred; + These singled from their troops the fight maintain, + These, from their steeds, Tydides on the plain. + Fierce for renown the brother-chiefs draw near, + And first bold Phegeus cast his sounding spear, + Which o'er the warrior's shoulder took its course, + And spent in empty air its erring force. + Not so, Tydides, flew thy lance in vain, + But pierced his breast, and stretch'd him on the plain. + Seized with unusual fear, Idaeus fled, + Left the rich chariot, and his brother dead. + And had not Vulcan lent celestial aid, + He too had sunk to death's eternal shade; + But in a smoky cloud the god of fire + Preserved the son, in pity to the sire. + The steeds and chariot, to the navy led, + Increased the spoils of gallant Diomed. + + Struck with amaze and shame, the Trojan crew, + Or slain, or fled, the sons of Dares view; + When by the blood-stain'd hand Minerva press'd + The god of battles, and this speech address'd: + + "Stern power of war! by whom the mighty fall, + Who bathe in blood, and shake the lofty wall! + Let the brave chiefs their glorious toils divide; + And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide: + While we from interdicted fields retire, + Nor tempt the wrath of heaven's avenging sire." + + Her words allay the impetuous warrior's heat, + The god of arms and martial maid retreat; + Removed from fight, on Xanthus' flowery bounds + They sat, and listen'd to the dying sounds. + + Meantime, the Greeks the Trojan race pursue, + And some bold chieftain every leader slew: + First Odius falls, and bites the bloody sand, + His death ennobled by Atrides' hand: + + As he to flight his wheeling car address'd, + The speedy javelin drove from back to breast. + In dust the mighty Halizonian lay, + His arms resound, the spirit wings its way. + + Thy fate was next, O Phaestus! doom'd to feel + The great Idomeneus' protended steel; + Whom Borus sent (his son and only joy) + From fruitful Tarne to the fields of Troy. + The Cretan javelin reach'd him from afar, + And pierced his shoulder as he mounts his car; + Back from the car he tumbles to the ground, + And everlasting shades his eyes surround. + + Then died Scamandrius, expert in the chase, + In woods and wilds to wound the savage race; + Diana taught him all her sylvan arts, + To bend the bow, and aim unerring darts: + But vainly here Diana's arts he tries, + The fatal lance arrests him as he flies; + From Menelaus' arm the weapon sent, + Through his broad back and heaving bosom went: + Down sinks the warrior with a thundering sound, + His brazen armour rings against the ground. + + Next artful Phereclus untimely fell; + Bold Merion sent him to the realms of hell. + Thy father's skill, O Phereclus! was thine, + The graceful fabric and the fair design; + For loved by Pallas, Pallas did impart + To him the shipwright's and the builder's art. + Beneath his hand the fleet of Paris rose, + The fatal cause of all his country's woes; + But he, the mystic will of heaven unknown, + Nor saw his country's peril, nor his own. + The hapless artist, while confused he fled, + The spear of Merion mingled with the dead. + Through his right hip, with forceful fury cast, + Between the bladder and the bone it pass'd; + Prone on his knees he falls with fruitless cries, + And death in lasting slumber seals his eyes. + + From Meges' force the swift Pedaeus fled, + Antenor's offspring from a foreign bed, + Whose generous spouse, Theanor, heavenly fair, + Nursed the young stranger with a mother's care. + How vain those cares! when Meges in the rear + Full in his nape infix'd the fatal spear; + Swift through his crackling jaws the weapon glides, + And the cold tongue and grinning teeth divides. + + Then died Hypsenor, generous and divine, + Sprung from the brave Dolopion's mighty line, + Who near adored Scamander made abode, + Priest of the stream, and honoured as a god. + On him, amidst the flying numbers found, + Eurypylus inflicts a deadly wound; + On his broad shoulders fell the forceful brand, + Thence glancing downwards, lopp'd his holy hand, + Which stain'd with sacred blood the blushing sand. + Down sunk the priest: the purple hand of death + Closed his dim eye, and fate suppress'd his breath. + + Thus toil'd the chiefs, in different parts engaged. + In every quarter fierce Tydides raged; + Amid the Greek, amid the Trojan train, + Rapt through the ranks he thunders o'er the plain; + Now here, now there, he darts from place to place, + Pours on the rear, or lightens in their face. + Thus from high hills the torrents swift and strong + Deluge whole fields, and sweep the trees along, + Through ruin'd moles the rushing wave resounds, + O'erwhelm's the bridge, and bursts the lofty bounds; + The yellow harvests of the ripen'd year, + And flatted vineyards, one sad waste appear!(144) + While Jove descends in sluicy sheets of rain, + And all the labours of mankind are vain. + + So raged Tydides, boundless in his ire, + Drove armies back, and made all Troy retire. + With grief the leader of the Lycian band + Saw the wide waste of his destructive hand: + His bended bow against the chief he drew; + Swift to the mark the thirsty arrow flew, + Whose forky point the hollow breastplate tore, + Deep in his shoulder pierced, and drank the gore: + The rushing stream his brazen armour dyed, + While the proud archer thus exulting cried: + + "Hither, ye Trojans, hither drive your steeds! + Lo! by our hand the bravest Grecian bleeds, + Not long the deathful dart he can sustain; + Or Phoebus urged me to these fields in vain." + So spoke he, boastful: but the winged dart + Stopp'd short of life, and mock'd the shooter's art. + The wounded chief, behind his car retired, + The helping hand of Sthenelus required; + Swift from his seat he leap'd upon the ground, + And tugg'd the weapon from the gushing wound; + When thus the king his guardian power address'd, + The purple current wandering o'er his vest: + + "O progeny of Jove! unconquer'd maid! + If e'er my godlike sire deserved thy aid, + If e'er I felt thee in the fighting field; + Now, goddess, now, thy sacred succour yield. + O give my lance to reach the Trojan knight, + Whose arrow wounds the chief thou guard'st in fight; + And lay the boaster grovelling on the shore, + That vaunts these eyes shall view the light no more." + + Thus pray'd Tydides, and Minerva heard, + His nerves confirm'd, his languid spirits cheer'd; + He feels each limb with wonted vigour light; + His beating bosom claim'd the promised fight. + "Be bold, (she cried), in every combat shine, + War be thy province, thy protection mine; + Rush to the fight, and every foe control; + Wake each paternal virtue in thy soul: + Strength swells thy boiling breast, infused by me, + And all thy godlike father breathes in thee; + Yet more, from mortal mists I purge thy eyes,(145) + And set to view the warring deities. + These see thou shun, through all the embattled plain; + Nor rashly strive where human force is vain. + If Venus mingle in the martial band, + Her shalt thou wound: so Pallas gives command." + + With that, the blue-eyed virgin wing'd her flight; + The hero rush'd impetuous to the fight; + With tenfold ardour now invades the plain, + Wild with delay, and more enraged by pain. + As on the fleecy flocks when hunger calls, + Amidst the field a brindled lion falls; + If chance some shepherd with a distant dart + The savage wound, he rouses at the smart, + He foams, he roars; the shepherd dares not stay, + But trembling leaves the scattering flocks a prey; + Heaps fall on heaps; he bathes with blood the ground, + Then leaps victorious o'er the lofty mound. + Not with less fury stern Tydides flew; + And two brave leaders at an instant slew; + Astynous breathless fell, and by his side, + His people's pastor, good Hypenor, died; + Astynous' breast the deadly lance receives, + Hypenor's shoulder his broad falchion cleaves. + Those slain he left, and sprung with noble rage + Abas and Polyidus to engage; + Sons of Eurydamus, who, wise and old, + Could fate foresee, and mystic dreams unfold; + The youths return'd not from the doubtful plain, + And the sad father tried his arts in vain; + No mystic dream could make their fates appear, + Though now determined by Tydides' spear. + + Young Xanthus next, and Thoon felt his rage; + The joy and hope of Phaenops' feeble age: + Vast was his wealth, and these the only heirs + Of all his labours and a life of cares. + Cold death o'ertakes them in their blooming years, + And leaves the father unavailing tears: + To strangers now descends his heapy store, + The race forgotten, and the name no more. + + Two sons of Priam in one chariot ride, + Glittering in arms, and combat side by side. + As when the lordly lion seeks his food + Where grazing heifers range the lonely wood, + He leaps amidst them with a furious bound, + Bends their strong necks, and tears them to the ground: + So from their seats the brother chiefs are torn, + Their steeds and chariot to the navy borne. + + With deep concern divine AEneas view'd + The foe prevailing, and his friends pursued; + Through the thick storm of singing spears he flies, + Exploring Pandarus with careful eyes. + At length he found Lycaon's mighty son; + To whom the chief of Venus' race begun: + + "Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours now, + Thy winged arrows and unerring bow, + Thy matchless skill, thy yet unrivall'd fame, + And boasted glory of the Lycian name? + O pierce that mortal! if we mortal call + That wondrous force by which whole armies fall; + Or god incensed, who quits the distant skies + To punish Troy for slighted sacrifice; + (Which, oh avert from our unhappy state! + For what so dreadful as celestial hate)? + Whoe'er he be, propitiate Jove with prayer; + If man, destroy; if god, entreat to spare." + + To him the Lycian: "Whom your eyes behold, + If right I judge, is Diomed the bold: + Such coursers whirl him o'er the dusty field, + So towers his helmet, and so flames his shield. + If 'tis a god, he wears that chief's disguise: + Or if that chief, some guardian of the skies, + Involved in clouds, protects him in the fray, + And turns unseen the frustrate dart away. + I wing'd an arrow, which not idly fell, + The stroke had fix'd him to the gates of hell; + And, but some god, some angry god withstands, + His fate was due to these unerring hands. + Skill'd in the bow, on foot I sought the war, + Nor join'd swift horses to the rapid car. + Ten polish'd chariots I possess'd at home, + And still they grace Lycaon's princely dome: + There veil'd in spacious coverlets they stand; + And twice ten coursers wait their lord's command. + The good old warrior bade me trust to these, + When first for Troy I sail'd the sacred seas; + In fields, aloft, the whirling car to guide, + And through the ranks of death triumphant ride. + But vain with youth, and yet to thrift inclined, + I heard his counsels with unheedful mind, + And thought the steeds (your large supplies unknown) + Might fail of forage in the straiten'd town; + So took my bow and pointed darts in hand + And left the chariots in my native land. + + "Too late, O friend! my rashness I deplore; + These shafts, once fatal, carry death no more. + Tydeus' and Atreus' sons their points have found, + And undissembled gore pursued the wound. + In vain they bleed: this unavailing bow + Serves, not to slaughter, but provoke the foe. + In evil hour these bended horns I strung, + And seized the quiver where it idly hung. + Cursed be the fate that sent me to the field + Without a warrior's arms, the spear and shield! + If e'er with life I quit the Trojan plain, + If e'er I see my spouse and sire again, + This bow, unfaithful to my glorious aims, + Broke by my hand, shall feed the blazing flames." + + To whom the leader of the Dardan race: + "Be calm, nor Phoebus' honour'd gift disgrace. + The distant dart be praised, though here we need + The rushing chariot and the bounding steed. + Against yon hero let us bend our course, + And, hand to hand, encounter force with force. + Now mount my seat, and from the chariot's height + Observe my father's steeds, renown'd in fight; + Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chase, + To dare the shock, or urge the rapid race; + Secure with these, through fighting fields we go; + Or safe to Troy, if Jove assist the foe. + Haste, seize the whip, and snatch the guiding rein; + The warrior's fury let this arm sustain; + Or, if to combat thy bold heart incline, + Take thou the spear, the chariot's care be mine." + + "O prince! (Lycaon's valiant son replied) + As thine the steeds, be thine the task to guide. + The horses, practised to their lord's command, + Shall bear the rein, and answer to thy hand; + But, if, unhappy, we desert the fight, + Thy voice alone can animate their flight; + Else shall our fates be number'd with the dead, + And these, the victor's prize, in triumph led. + Thine be the guidance, then: with spear and shield + Myself will charge this terror of the field." + + And now both heroes mount the glittering car; + The bounding coursers rush amidst the war; + Their fierce approach bold Sthenelus espied, + Who thus, alarm'd, to great Tydides cried: + + "O friend! two chiefs of force immense I see, + Dreadful they come, and bend their rage on thee: + Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon's line, + And great AEneas, sprung from race divine! + Enough is given to fame. Ascend thy car! + And save a life, the bulwark of our war." + + At this the hero cast a gloomy look, + Fix'd on the chief with scorn; and thus he spoke: + + "Me dost thou bid to shun the coming fight? + Me wouldst thou move to base, inglorious flight? + Know, 'tis not honest in my soul to fear, + Nor was Tydides born to tremble here. + I hate the cumbrous chariot's slow advance, + And the long distance of the flying lance; + But while my nerves are strong, my force entire, + Thus front the foe, and emulate my sire. + Nor shall yon steeds, that fierce to fight convey + Those threatening heroes, bear them both away; + One chief at least beneath this arm shall die; + So Pallas tells me, and forbids to fly. + But if she dooms, and if no god withstand, + That both shall fall by one victorious hand, + Then heed my words: my horses here detain, + Fix'd to the chariot by the straiten'd rein; + Swift to AEneas' empty seat proceed, + And seize the coursers of ethereal breed; + The race of those, which once the thundering god(146) + For ravish'd Ganymede on Tros bestow'd, + The best that e'er on earth's broad surface run, + Beneath the rising or the setting sun. + Hence great Anchises stole a breed unknown, + By mortal mares, from fierce Laomedon: + Four of this race his ample stalls contain, + And two transport AEneas o'er the plain. + These, were the rich immortal prize our own, + Through the wide world should make our glory known." + + Thus while they spoke, the foe came furious on, + And stern Lycaon's warlike race begun: + + "Prince, thou art met. Though late in vain assail'd, + The spear may enter where the arrow fail'd." + + He said, then shook the ponderous lance, and flung; + On his broad shield the sounding weapon rung, + Pierced the tough orb, and in his cuirass hung, + "He bleeds! the pride of Greece! (the boaster cries,) + Our triumph now, the mighty warrior lies!" + "Mistaken vaunter! (Diomed replied;) + Thy dart has erred, and now my spear be tried; + Ye 'scape not both; one, headlong from his car, + With hostile blood shall glut the god of war." + + He spoke, and rising hurl'd his forceful dart, + Which, driven by Pallas, pierced a vital part; + Full in his face it enter'd, and betwixt + The nose and eye-ball the proud Lycian fix'd; + Crash'd all his jaws, and cleft the tongue within, + Till the bright point look'd out beneath the chin. + Headlong he falls, his helmet knocks the ground: + Earth groans beneath him, and his arms resound; + The starting coursers tremble with affright; + The soul indignant seeks the realms of night. + + To guard his slaughter'd friend, AEneas flies, + His spear extending where the carcase lies; + Watchful he wheels, protects it every way, + As the grim lion stalks around his prey. + O'er the fall'n trunk his ample shield display'd, + He hides the hero with his mighty shade, + And threats aloud! the Greeks with longing eyes + Behold at distance, but forbear the prize. + Then fierce Tydides stoops; and from the fields + Heaved with vast force, a rocky fragment wields. + Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise, + Such men as live in these degenerate days:(147) + He swung it round; and, gathering strength to throw, + Discharged the ponderous ruin at the foe. + Where to the hip the inserted thigh unites, + Full on the bone the pointed marble lights; + Through both the tendons broke the rugged stone, + And stripp'd the skin, and crack'd the solid bone. + Sunk on his knees, and staggering with his pains, + His falling bulk his bended arm sustains; + Lost in a dizzy mist the warrior lies; + A sudden cloud comes swimming o'er his eyes. + There the brave chief, who mighty numbers sway'd, + Oppress'd had sunk to death's eternal shade, + But heavenly Venus, mindful of the love + She bore Anchises in the Idaean grove, + His danger views with anguish and despair, + And guards her offspring with a mother's care. + About her much-loved son her arms she throws, + Her arms whose whiteness match the falling snows. + Screen'd from the foe behind her shining veil, + The swords wave harmless, and the javelins fail; + Safe through the rushing horse, and feather'd flight + Of sounding shafts, she bears him from the fight. + + Nor Sthenelus, with unassisting hands, + Remain'd unheedful of his lord's commands: + His panting steeds, removed from out the war, + He fix'd with straiten'd traces to the car, + Next, rushing to the Dardan spoil, detains + The heavenly coursers with the flowing manes: + These in proud triumph to the fleet convey'd, + No longer now a Trojan lord obey'd. + That charge to bold Deipylus he gave, + (Whom most he loved, as brave men love the brave,) + Then mounting on his car, resumed the rein, + And follow'd where Tydides swept the plain. + + Meanwhile (his conquest ravished from his eyes) + The raging chief in chase of Venus flies: + No goddess she, commission'd to the field, + Like Pallas dreadful with her sable shield, + Or fierce Bellona thundering at the wall, + While flames ascend, and mighty ruins fall; + He knew soft combats suit the tender dame, + New to the field, and still a foe to fame. + Through breaking ranks his furious course he bends, + And at the goddess his broad lance extends; + Through her bright veil the daring weapon drove, + The ambrosial veil which all the Graces wove; + Her snowy hand the razing steel profaned, + And the transparent skin with crimson stain'd, + From the clear vein a stream immortal flow'd, + Such stream as issues from a wounded god;(148) + Pure emanation! uncorrupted flood! + Unlike our gross, diseased, terrestrial blood: + (For not the bread of man their life sustains, + Nor wine's inflaming juice supplies their veins:) + With tender shrieks the goddess fill'd the place, + And dropp'd her offspring from her weak embrace. + Him Phoebus took: he casts a cloud around + The fainting chief, and wards the mortal wound. + + Then with a voice that shook the vaulted skies, + The king insults the goddess as she flies: + "Ill with Jove's daughter bloody fights agree, + The field of combat is no scene for thee: + Go, let thy own soft sex employ thy care, + Go, lull the coward, or delude the fair. + Taught by this stroke renounce the war's alarms, + And learn to tremble at the name of arms." + + Tydides thus. The goddess, seized with dread, + Confused, distracted, from the conflict fled. + To aid her, swift the winged Iris flew, + Wrapt in a mist above the warring crew. + The queen of love with faded charms she found. + Pale was her cheek, and livid look'd the wound. + To Mars, who sat remote, they bent their way: + Far, on the left, with clouds involved he lay; + Beside him stood his lance, distain'd with gore, + And, rein'd with gold, his foaming steeds before. + Low at his knee, she begg'd with streaming eyes + Her brother's car, to mount the distant skies, + And show'd the wound by fierce Tydides given, + A mortal man, who dares encounter heaven. + Stern Mars attentive hears the queen complain, + And to her hand commits the golden rein; + She mounts the seat, oppress'd with silent woe, + Driven by the goddess of the painted bow. + The lash resounds, the rapid chariot flies, + And in a moment scales the lofty skies: + They stopp'd the car, and there the coursers stood, + Fed by fair Iris with ambrosial food; + Before her mother, love's bright queen appears, + O'erwhelmed with anguish, and dissolved in tears: + She raised her in her arms, beheld her bleed, + And ask'd what god had wrought this guilty deed? + + [Illustration: VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND, CONDUCTED BY IRIS TO MARS.] + + VENUS, WOUNDED IN THE HAND, CONDUCTED BY IRIS TO MARS. + + + Then she: "This insult from no god I found, + An impious mortal gave the daring wound! + Behold the deed of haughty Diomed! + 'Twas in the son's defence the mother bled. + The war with Troy no more the Grecians wage; + But with the gods (the immortal gods) engage." + + Dione then: "Thy wrongs with patience bear, + And share those griefs inferior powers must share: + Unnumber'd woes mankind from us sustain, + And men with woes afflict the gods again. + The mighty Mars in mortal fetters bound,(149) + And lodged in brazen dungeons underground, + Full thirteen moons imprison'd roar'd in vain; + Otus and Ephialtes held the chain: + Perhaps had perish'd had not Hermes' care + Restored the groaning god to upper air. + Great Juno's self has borne her weight of pain, + The imperial partner of the heavenly reign; + Amphitryon's son infix'd the deadly dart,(150) + And fill'd with anguish her immortal heart. + E'en hell's grim king Alcides' power confess'd, + The shaft found entrance in his iron breast; + To Jove's high palace for a cure he fled, + Pierced in his own dominions of the dead; + Where Paeon, sprinkling heavenly balm around, + Assuaged the glowing pangs, and closed the wound. + Rash, impious man! to stain the bless'd abodes, + And drench his arrows in the blood of gods! + + [Illustration: OTUS AND EPHIALTES HOLDING MARS CAPTIVE.] + + OTUS AND EPHIALTES HOLDING MARS CAPTIVE. + + + "But thou (though Pallas urged thy frantic deed), + Whose spear ill-fated makes a goddess bleed, + Know thou, whoe'er with heavenly power contends, + Short is his date, and soon his glory ends; + From fields of death when late he shall retire, + No infant on his knees shall call him sire. + Strong as thou art, some god may yet be found, + To stretch thee pale and gasping on the ground; + Thy distant wife, AEgiale the fair,(151) + Starting from sleep with a distracted air, + Shall rouse thy slaves, and her lost lord deplore, + The brave, the great, the glorious now no more!" + + This said, she wiped from Venus' wounded palm + The sacred ichor, and infused the balm. + Juno and Pallas with a smile survey'd, + And thus to Jove began the blue-eyed maid: + + "Permit thy daughter, gracious Jove! to tell + How this mischance the Cyprian queen befell, + As late she tried with passion to inflame + The tender bosom of a Grecian dame; + Allured the fair, with moving thoughts of joy, + To quit her country for some youth of Troy; + The clasping zone, with golden buckles bound, + Razed her soft hand with this lamented wound." + + The sire of gods and men superior smiled, + And, calling Venus, thus address'd his child: + "Not these, O daughter are thy proper cares, + Thee milder arts befit, and softer wars; + Sweet smiles are thine, and kind endearing charms; + To Mars and Pallas leave the deeds of arms." + + Thus they in heaven: while on the plain below + The fierce Tydides charged his Dardan foe, + Flush'd with celestial blood pursued his way, + And fearless dared the threatening god of day; + Already in his hopes he saw him kill'd, + Though screen'd behind Apollo's mighty shield. + Thrice rushing furious, at the chief he strook; + His blazing buckler thrice Apollo shook: + He tried the fourth: when, breaking from the cloud, + A more than mortal voice was heard aloud. + + "O son of Tydeus, cease! be wise and see + How vast the difference of the gods and thee; + Distance immense! between the powers that shine + Above, eternal, deathless, and divine, + And mortal man! a wretch of humble birth, + A short-lived reptile in the dust of earth." + + So spoke the god who darts celestial fires: + He dreads his fury, and some steps retires. + Then Phoebus bore the chief of Venus' race + To Troy's high fane, and to his holy place; + Latona there and Phoebe heal'd the wound, + With vigour arm'd him, and with glory crown'd. + This done, the patron of the silver bow + A phantom raised, the same in shape and show + With great AEneas; such the form he bore, + And such in fight the radiant arms he wore. + Around the spectre bloody wars are waged, + And Greece and Troy with clashing shields engaged. + Meantime on Ilion's tower Apollo stood, + And calling Mars, thus urged the raging god: + + "Stern power of arms, by whom the mighty fall; + Who bathest in blood, and shakest the embattled wall, + Rise in thy wrath! to hell's abhorr'd abodes + Despatch yon Greek, and vindicate the gods. + First rosy Venus felt his brutal rage; + Me next he charged, and dares all heaven engage: + The wretch would brave high heaven's immortal sire, + His triple thunder, and his bolts of fire." + + The god of battle issues on the plain, + Stirs all the ranks, and fires the Trojan train; + In form like Acamas, the Thracian guide, + Enraged to Troy's retiring chiefs he cried: + + "How long, ye sons of Priam! will ye fly, + And unrevenged see Priam's people die? + Still unresisted shall the foe destroy, + And stretch the slaughter to the gates of Troy? + Lo, brave AEneas sinks beneath his wound, + Not godlike Hector more in arms renown'd: + Haste all, and take the generous warrior's part. + He said;--new courage swell'd each hero's heart. + Sarpedon first his ardent soul express'd, + And, turn'd to Hector, these bold words address'd: + + "Say, chief, is all thy ancient valour lost? + Where are thy threats, and where thy glorious boast, + That propp'd alone by Priam's race should stand + Troy's sacred walls, nor need a foreign hand? + Now, now thy country calls her wonted friends, + And the proud vaunt in just derision ends. + Remote they stand while alien troops engage, + Like trembling hounds before the lion's rage. + Far distant hence I held my wide command, + Where foaming Xanthus laves the Lycian land; + With ample wealth (the wish of mortals) bless'd, + A beauteous wife, and infant at her breast; + With those I left whatever dear could be: + Greece, if she conquers, nothing wins from me; + Yet first in fight my Lycian bands I cheer, + And long to meet this mighty man ye fear; + While Hector idle stands, nor bids the brave + Their wives, their infants, and their altars save. + Haste, warrior, haste! preserve thy threaten'd state, + Or one vast burst of all-involving fate + Full o'er your towers shall fall, and sweep away + Sons, sires, and wives, an undistinguish'd prey. + Rouse all thy Trojans, urge thy aids to fight; + These claim thy thoughts by day, thy watch by night; + With force incessant the brave Greeks oppose; + Such cares thy friends deserve, and such thy foes." + + Stung to the heart the generous Hector hears, + But just reproof with decent silence bears. + From his proud car the prince impetuous springs, + On earth he leaps, his brazen armour rings. + Two shining spears are brandish'd in his hands; + Thus arm'd, he animates his drooping bands, + Revives their ardour, turns their steps from flight, + And wakes anew the dying flames of fight. + They turn, they stand; the Greeks their fury dare, + Condense their powers, and wait the growing war. + + As when, on Ceres' sacred floor, the swain + Spreads the wide fan to clear the golden grain, + And the light chaff, before the breezes borne, + Ascends in clouds from off the heapy corn; + The grey dust, rising with collected winds, + Drives o'er the barn, and whitens all the hinds: + So white with dust the Grecian host appears. + From trampling steeds, and thundering charioteers; + The dusky clouds from labour'd earth arise, + And roll in smoking volumes to the skies. + Mars hovers o'er them with his sable shield, + And adds new horrors to the darken'd field: + Pleased with his charge, and ardent to fulfil, + In Troy's defence, Apollo's heavenly will: + Soon as from fight the blue-eyed maid retires, + Each Trojan bosom with new warmth he fires. + And now the god, from forth his sacred fane, + Produced AEneas to the shouting train; + Alive, unharm'd, with all his peers around, + Erect he stood, and vigorous from his wound: + Inquiries none they made; the dreadful day + No pause of words admits, no dull delay; + Fierce Discord storms, Apollo loud exclaims, + Fame calls, Mars thunders, and the field's in flames. + + Stern Diomed with either Ajax stood, + And great Ulysses, bathed in hostile blood. + Embodied close, the labouring Grecian train + The fiercest shock of charging hosts sustain. + Unmoved and silent, the whole war they wait + Serenely dreadful, and as fix'd as fate. + So when the embattled clouds in dark array, + Along the skies their gloomy lines display; + When now the North his boisterous rage has spent, + And peaceful sleeps the liquid element: + The low-hung vapours, motionless and still, + Rest on the summits of the shaded hill; + Till the mass scatters as the winds arise, + Dispersed and broken through the ruffled skies. + + Nor was the general wanting to his train; + From troop to troop he toils through all the plain, + "Ye Greeks, be men! the charge of battle bear; + Your brave associates and yourselves revere! + Let glorious acts more glorious acts inspire, + And catch from breast to breast the noble fire! + On valour's side the odds of combat lie, + The brave live glorious, or lamented die; + The wretch who trembles in the field of fame, + Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame!" + + These words he seconds with his flying lance, + To meet whose point was strong Deicoon's chance: + AEneas' friend, and in his native place + Honour'd and loved like Priam's royal race: + Long had he fought the foremost in the field, + But now the monarch's lance transpierced his shield: + His shield too weak the furious dart to stay, + Through his broad belt the weapon forced its way: + The grisly wound dismiss'd his soul to hell, + His arms around him rattled as he fell. + + Then fierce AEneas, brandishing his blade, + In dust Orsilochus and Crethon laid, + Whose sire Diocleus, wealthy, brave and great, + In well-built Pherae held his lofty seat:(152) + Sprung from Alpheus' plenteous stream, that yields + Increase of harvests to the Pylian fields. + He got Orsilochus, Diocleus he, + And these descended in the third degree. + Too early expert in the martial toil, + In sable ships they left their native soil, + To avenge Atrides: now, untimely slain, + They fell with glory on the Phrygian plain. + So two young mountain lions, nursed with blood + In deep recesses of the gloomy wood, + Rush fearless to the plains, and uncontroll'd + Depopulate the stalls and waste the fold: + Till pierced at distance from their native den, + O'erpowered they fall beneath the force of men. + Prostrate on earth their beauteous bodies lay, + Like mountain firs, as tall and straight as they. + Great Menelaus views with pitying eyes, + Lifts his bright lance, and at the victor flies; + Mars urged him on; yet, ruthless in his hate, + The god but urged him to provoke his fate. + He thus advancing, Nestor's valiant son + Shakes for his danger, and neglects his own; + Struck with the thought, should Helen's lord be slain, + And all his country's glorious labours vain. + Already met, the threatening heroes stand; + The spears already tremble in their hand: + In rush'd Antilochus, his aid to bring, + And fall or conquer by the Spartan king. + These seen, the Dardan backward turn'd his course, + Brave as he was, and shunn'd unequal force. + The breathless bodies to the Greeks they drew, + Then mix in combat, and their toils renew. + + First, Pylaemenes, great in battle, bled, + Who sheathed in brass the Paphlagonians led. + Atrides mark'd him where sublime he stood; + Fix'd in his throat the javelin drank his blood. + The faithful Mydon, as he turn'd from fight + His flying coursers, sunk to endless night; + A broken rock by Nestor's son was thrown: + His bended arm received the falling stone; + From his numb'd hand the ivory-studded reins, + Dropp'd in the dust, are trail'd along the plains: + Meanwhile his temples feel a deadly wound; + He groans in death, and ponderous sinks to ground: + Deep drove his helmet in the sands, and there + The head stood fix'd, the quivering legs in air, + Till trampled flat beneath the coursers' feet: + The youthful victor mounts his empty seat, + And bears the prize in triumph to the fleet. + + Great Hector saw, and, raging at the view, + Pours on the Greeks: the Trojan troops pursue: + He fires his host with animating cries, + And brings along the furies of the skies, + Mars, stern destroyer! and Bellona dread, + Flame in the front, and thunder at their head: + This swells the tumult and the rage of fight; + That shakes a spear that casts a dreadful light. + Where Hector march'd, the god of battles shined, + Now storm'd before him, and now raged behind. + + Tydides paused amidst his full career; + Then first the hero's manly breast knew fear. + As when some simple swain his cot forsakes, + And wide through fens an unknown journey takes: + If chance a swelling brook his passage stay, + And foam impervious 'cross the wanderer's way, + Confused he stops, a length of country pass'd, + Eyes the rough waves, and tired, returns at last. + Amazed no less the great Tydides stands: + He stay'd, and turning thus address'd his bands: + + "No wonder, Greeks! that all to Hector yield; + Secure of favouring gods, he takes the field; + His strokes they second, and avert our spears. + Behold where Mars in mortal arms appears! + Retire then, warriors, but sedate and slow; + Retire, but with your faces to the foe. + Trust not too much your unavailing might; + 'Tis not with Troy, but with the gods ye fight." + + Now near the Greeks the black battalions drew; + And first two leaders valiant Hector slew: + His force Anchialus and Mnesthes found, + In every art of glorious war renown'd; + In the same car the chiefs to combat ride, + And fought united, and united died. + Struck at the sight, the mighty Ajax glows + With thirst of vengeance, and assaults the foes. + His massy spear with matchless fury sent, + Through Amphius' belt and heaving belly went; + Amphius Apaesus' happy soil possess'd, + With herds abounding, and with treasure bless'd; + But fate resistless from his country led + The chief, to perish at his people's head. + Shook with his fall his brazen armour rung, + And fierce, to seize it, conquering Ajax sprung; + Around his head an iron tempest rain'd; + A wood of spears his ample shield sustain'd: + Beneath one foot the yet warm corpse he press'd, + And drew his javelin from the bleeding breast: + He could no more; the showering darts denied + To spoil his glittering arms, and plumy pride. + Now foes on foes came pouring on the fields, + With bristling lances, and compacted shields; + Till in the steely circle straiten'd round, + Forced he gives way, and sternly quits the ground. + + While thus they strive, Tlepolemus the great,(153) + Urged by the force of unresisted fate, + Burns with desire Sarpedon's strength to prove; + Alcides' offspring meets the son of Jove. + Sheathed in bright arms each adverse chief came on. + Jove's great descendant, and his greater son. + Prepared for combat, ere the lance he toss'd, + The daring Rhodian vents his haughty boast: + + "What brings this Lycian counsellor so far, + To tremble at our arms, not mix in war! + Know thy vain self, nor let their flattery move, + Who style thee son of cloud-compelling Jove. + How far unlike those chiefs of race divine, + How vast the difference of their deeds and thine! + Jove got such heroes as my sire, whose soul + No fear could daunt, nor earth nor hell control. + Troy felt his arm, and yon proud ramparts stand + Raised on the ruins of his vengeful hand: + With six small ships, and but a slender train, + lie left the town a wide-deserted plain. + But what art thou, who deedless look'st around, + While unrevenged thy Lycians bite the ground! + Small aid to Troy thy feeble force can be; + But wert thou greater, thou must yield to me. + Pierced by my spear, to endless darkness go! + I make this present to the shades below." + + The son of Hercules, the Rhodian guide, + Thus haughty spoke. The Lycian king replied: + + "Thy sire, O prince! o'erturn'd the Trojan state, + Whose perjured monarch well deserved his fate; + Those heavenly steeds the hero sought so far, + False he detain'd, the just reward of war. + Nor so content, the generous chief defied, + With base reproaches and unmanly pride. + But you, unworthy the high race you boast, + Shall raise my glory when thy own is lost: + Now meet thy fate, and by Sarpedon slain, + Add one more ghost to Pluto's gloomy reign." + + He said: both javelins at an instant flew; + Both struck, both wounded, but Sarpedon's slew: + Full in the boaster's neck the weapon stood, + Transfix'd his throat, and drank the vital blood; + The soul disdainful seeks the caves of night, + And his seal'd eyes for ever lose the light. + + Yet not in vain, Tlepolemus, was thrown + Thy angry lance; which piercing to the bone + Sarpedon's thigh, had robb'd the chief of breath; + But Jove was present, and forbade the death. + Borne from the conflict by his Lycian throng, + The wounded hero dragg'd the lance along. + (His friends, each busied in his several part, + Through haste, or danger, had not drawn the dart.) + The Greeks with slain Tlepolemus retired; + Whose fall Ulysses view'd, with fury fired; + Doubtful if Jove's great son he should pursue, + Or pour his vengeance on the Lycian crew. + But heaven and fate the first design withstand, + Nor this great death must grace Ulysses' hand. + Minerva drives him on the Lycian train; + Alastor, Cronius, Halius, strew'd the plain, + Alcander, Prytanis, Noemon fell:(154) + And numbers more his sword had sent to hell, + But Hector saw; and, furious at the sight, + Rush'd terrible amidst the ranks of fight. + With joy Sarpedon view'd the wish'd relief, + And, faint, lamenting, thus implored the chief: + + "O suffer not the foe to bear away + My helpless corpse, an unassisted prey; + If I, unbless'd, must see my son no more, + My much-loved consort, and my native shore, + Yet let me die in Ilion's sacred wall; + Troy, in whose cause I fell, shall mourn my fall." + + He said, nor Hector to the chief replies, + But shakes his plume, and fierce to combat flies; + Swift as a whirlwind, drives the scattering foes; + And dyes the ground with purple as he goes. + + Beneath a beech, Jove's consecrated shade, + His mournful friends divine Sarpedon laid: + Brave Pelagon, his favourite chief, was nigh, + Who wrench'd the javelin from his sinewy thigh. + The fainting soul stood ready wing'd for flight, + And o'er his eye-balls swam the shades of night; + But Boreas rising fresh, with gentle breath, + Recall'd his spirit from the gates of death. + + The generous Greeks recede with tardy pace, + Though Mars and Hector thunder in their face; + None turn their backs to mean ignoble flight, + Slow they retreat, and even retreating fight. + Who first, who last, by Mars' and Hector's hand, + Stretch'd in their blood, lay gasping on the sand? + Tenthras the great, Orestes the renown'd + For managed steeds, and Trechus press'd the ground;, + Next OEnomaus and OEnops' offspring died; + Oresbius last fell groaning at their side: + Oresbius, in his painted mitre gay, + In fat Boeotia held his wealthy sway, + Where lakes surround low Hyle's watery plain; + A prince and people studious of their gain. + + The carnage Juno from the skies survey'd, + And touch'd with grief bespoke the blue-eyed maid: + "Oh, sight accursed! Shall faithless Troy prevail, + And shall our promise to our people fail? + How vain the word to Menelaus given + By Jove's great daughter and the queen of heaven, + Beneath his arms that Priam's towers should fall, + If warring gods for ever guard the wall! + Mars, red with slaughter, aids our hated foes: + Haste, let us arm, and force with force oppose!" + + She spoke; Minerva burns to meet the war: + And now heaven's empress calls her blazing car. + At her command rush forth the steeds divine; + Rich with immortal gold their trappings shine. + Bright Hebe waits; by Hebe, ever young, + The whirling wheels are to the chariot hung. + On the bright axle turns the bidden wheel + Of sounding brass; the polished axle steel. + Eight brazen spokes in radiant order flame; + The circles gold, of uncorrupted frame, + Such as the heavens produce: and round the gold + Two brazen rings of work divine were roll'd. + The bossy naves of sold silver shone; + Braces of gold suspend the moving throne: + The car, behind, an arching figure bore; + The bending concave form'd an arch before. + Silver the beam, the extended yoke was gold, + And golden reins the immortal coursers hold. + Herself, impatient, to the ready car, + The coursers joins, and breathes revenge and war. + + Pallas disrobes; her radiant veil untied, + With flowers adorn'd, with art diversified, + (The laboured veil her heavenly fingers wove,) + Flows on the pavement of the court of Jove. + Now heaven's dread arms her mighty limbs invest, + Jove's cuirass blazes on her ample breast; + Deck'd in sad triumph for the mournful field, + O'er her broad shoulders hangs his horrid shield, + Dire, black, tremendous! Round the margin roll'd, + A fringe of serpents hissing guards the gold: + Here all the terrors of grim War appear, + Here rages Force, here tremble Flight and Fear, + Here storm'd Contention, and here Fury frown'd, + And the dire orb portentous Gorgon crown'd. + The massy golden helm she next assumes, + That dreadful nods with four o'ershading plumes; + So vast, the broad circumference contains + A hundred armies on a hundred plains. + The goddess thus the imperial car ascends; + Shook by her arm the mighty javelin bends, + Ponderous and huge; that when her fury burns, + Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns. + + Swift at the scourge the ethereal coursers fly, + While the smooth chariot cuts the liquid sky. + Heaven's gates spontaneous open to the powers,(155) + Heaven's golden gates, kept by the winged Hours;(156) + Commission'd in alternate watch they stand, + The sun's bright portals and the skies command, + Involve in clouds the eternal gates of day, + Or the dark barrier roll with ease away. + The sounding hinges ring on either side + The gloomy volumes, pierced with light, divide. + The chariot mounts, where deep in ambient skies, + Confused, Olympus' hundred heads arise; + Where far apart the Thunderer fills his throne, + O'er all the gods superior and alone. + There with her snowy hand the queen restrains + The fiery steeds, and thus to Jove complains: + + "O sire! can no resentment touch thy soul? + Can Mars rebel, and does no thunder roll? + What lawless rage on yon forbidden plain, + What rash destruction! and what heroes slain! + Venus, and Phoebus with the dreadful bow, + Smile on the slaughter, and enjoy my woe. + Mad, furious power! whose unrelenting mind + No god can govern, and no justice bind. + Say, mighty father! shall we scourge this pride, + And drive from fight the impetuous homicide?" + + To whom assenting, thus the Thunderer said: + "Go! and the great Minerva be thy aid. + To tame the monster-god Minerva knows, + And oft afflicts his brutal breast with woes." + + He said; Saturnia, ardent to obey, + Lash'd her white steeds along the aerial way + Swift down the steep of heaven the chariot rolls, + Between the expanded earth and starry poles + Far as a shepherd, from some point on high,(157) + O'er the wide main extends his boundless eye, + Through such a space of air, with thundering sound, + At every leap the immortal coursers bound + Troy now they reach'd and touch'd those banks divine, + Where silver Simois and Scamander join + There Juno stopp'd, and (her fair steeds unloosed) + Of air condensed a vapour circumfused + For these, impregnate with celestial dew, + On Simois, brink ambrosial herbage grew. + Thence to relieve the fainting Argive throng, + Smooth as the sailing doves they glide along. + + The best and bravest of the Grecian band + (A warlike circle) round Tydides stand. + Such was their look as lions bathed in blood, + Or foaming boars, the terror of the wood + Heaven's empress mingles with the mortal crowd, + And shouts, in Stentor's sounding voice, aloud; + Stentor the strong, endued with brazen lungs,(158) + Whose throats surpass'd the force of fifty tongues. + + "Inglorious Argives! to your race a shame, + And only men in figure and in name! + Once from the walls your timorous foes engaged, + While fierce in war divine Achilles raged; + Now issuing fearless they possess the plain, + Now win the shores, and scarce the seas remain." + + Her speech new fury to their hearts convey'd; + While near Tydides stood the Athenian maid; + The king beside his panting steeds she found, + O'erspent with toil reposing on the ground; + To cool his glowing wound he sat apart, + (The wound inflicted by the Lycian dart.) + Large drops of sweat from all his limbs descend, + Beneath his ponderous shield his sinews bend, + Whose ample belt, that o'er his shoulder lay, + He eased; and wash'd the clotted gore away. + The goddess leaning o'er the bending yoke, + Beside his coursers, thus her silence broke: + + "Degenerate prince! and not of Tydeus' kind, + Whose little body lodged a mighty mind; + Foremost he press'd in glorious toils to share, + And scarce refrain'd when I forbade the war. + Alone, unguarded, once he dared to go, + And feast, incircled by the Theban foe; + There braved, and vanquish'd, many a hardy knight; + Such nerves I gave him, and such force in fight. + Thou too no less hast been my constant care; + Thy hands I arm'd, and sent thee forth to war: + But thee or fear deters, or sloth detains; + No drop of all thy father warms thy veins." + + The chief thus answered mild: "Immortal maid! + I own thy presence, and confess thy aid. + Not fear, thou know'st, withholds me from the plains, + Nor sloth hath seized me, but thy word restrains: + From warring gods thou bad'st me turn my spear, + And Venus only found resistance here. + Hence, goddess! heedful of thy high commands, + Loth I gave way, and warn'd our Argive bands: + For Mars, the homicide, these eyes beheld, + With slaughter red, and raging round the field." + + Then thus Minerva:--"Brave Tydides, hear! + Not Mars himself, nor aught immortal, fear. + Full on the god impel thy foaming horse: + Pallas commands, and Pallas lends thee force. + Rash, furious, blind, from these to those he flies, + And every side of wavering combat tries; + Large promise makes, and breaks the promise made: + Now gives the Grecians, now the Trojans aid."(159) + + She said, and to the steeds approaching near, + Drew from his seat the martial charioteer. + The vigorous power the trembling car ascends, + Fierce for revenge; and Diomed attends: + The groaning axle bent beneath the load; + So great a hero, and so great a god. + She snatch'd the reins, she lash'd with all her force, + And full on Mars impelled the foaming horse: + But first, to hide her heavenly visage, spread + Black Orcus' helmet o'er her radiant head. + + [Illustration: DIOMED CASTING HIS SPEAR AT MARS.] + + DIOMED CASTING HIS SPEAR AT MARS. + + + Just then gigantic Periphas lay slain, + The strongest warrior of the AEtolian train; + The god, who slew him, leaves his prostrate prize + Stretch'd where he fell, and at Tydides flies. + Now rushing fierce, in equal arms appear + The daring Greek, the dreadful god of war! + Full at the chief, above his courser's head, + From Mars's arm the enormous weapon fled: + Pallas opposed her hand, and caused to glance + Far from the car the strong immortal lance. + Then threw the force of Tydeus' warlike son; + The javelin hiss'd; the goddess urged it on: + Where the broad cincture girt his armour round, + It pierced the god: his groin received the wound. + From the rent skin the warrior tugs again + The smoking steel. Mars bellows with the pain: + Loud as the roar encountering armies yield, + When shouting millions shake the thundering field. + Both armies start, and trembling gaze around; + And earth and heaven re-bellow to the sound. + As vapours blown by Auster's sultry breath, + Pregnant with plagues, and shedding seeds of death, + Beneath the rage of burning Sirius rise, + Choke the parch'd earth, and blacken all the skies; + In such a cloud the god from combat driven, + High o'er the dusky whirlwind scales the heaven. + Wild with his pain, he sought the bright abodes, + There sullen sat beneath the sire of gods, + Show'd the celestial blood, and with a groan + Thus pour'd his plaints before the immortal throne: + + "Can Jove, supine, flagitious facts survey, + And brook the furies of this daring day? + For mortal men celestial powers engage, + And gods on gods exert eternal rage: + From thee, O father! all these ills we bear, + And thy fell daughter with the shield and spear; + Thou gavest that fury to the realms of light, + Pernicious, wild, regardless of the right. + All heaven beside reveres thy sovereign sway, + Thy voice we hear, and thy behests obey: + 'Tis hers to offend, and even offending share + Thy breast, thy counsels, thy distinguish'd care: + So boundless she, and thou so partial grown, + Well may we deem the wondrous birth thy own. + Now frantic Diomed, at her command, + Against the immortals lifts his raging hand: + The heavenly Venus first his fury found, + Me next encountering, me he dared to wound; + Vanquish'd I fled; even I, the god of fight, + From mortal madness scarce was saved by flight. + Else hadst thou seen me sink on yonder plain, + Heap'd round, and heaving under loads of slain! + Or pierced with Grecian darts, for ages lie, + Condemn'd to pain, though fated not to die." + + Him thus upbraiding, with a wrathful look + The lord of thunders view'd, and stern bespoke: + "To me, perfidious! this lamenting strain? + Of lawless force shall lawless Mars complain? + Of all the gods who tread the spangled skies, + Thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes! + Inhuman discord is thy dire delight, + The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight. + No bounds, no law, thy fiery temper quells, + And all thy mother in thy soul rebels. + In vain our threats, in vain our power we use; + She gives the example, and her son pursues. + Yet long the inflicted pangs thou shall not mourn, + Sprung since thou art from Jove, and heavenly-born. + Else, singed with lightning, hadst thou hence been thrown, + Where chain'd on burning rocks the Titans groan." + + Thus he who shakes Olympus with his nod; + Then gave to Paeon's care the bleeding god.(160) + With gentle hand the balm he pour'd around, + And heal'd the immortal flesh, and closed the wound. + As when the fig's press'd juice, infused in cream, + To curds coagulates the liquid stream, + Sudden the fluids fix the parts combined; + Such, and so soon, the ethereal texture join'd. + Cleansed from the dust and gore, fair Hebe dress'd + His mighty limbs in an immortal vest. + Glorious he sat, in majesty restored, + Fast by the throne of heaven's superior lord. + Juno and Pallas mount the bless'd abodes, + Their task perform'd, and mix among the gods. + + [Illustration: JUNO.] + + JUNO. + + + + + +BOOK VI. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE EPISODES OF GLAUCUS AND DIOMED, AND OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. + +The gods having left the field, the Grecians prevail. Helenus, the chief +augur of Troy, commands Hector to return to the city, in order to appoint +a solemn procession of the queen and the Trojan matrons to the temple of +Minerva, to entreat her to remove Diomed from the fight. The battle +relaxing during the absence of Hector, Glaucus and Diomed have an +interview between the two armies; where, coming to the knowledge, of the +friendship and hospitality passed between their ancestors, they make +exchange of their arms. Hector, having performed the orders of Helenus, +prevails upon Paris to return to the battle, and, taking a tender leave of +his wife Andromache, hastens again to the field. + +The scene is first in the field of battle, between the rivers Simois and +Scamander, and then changes to Troy. + + Now heaven forsakes the fight: the immortals yield + To human force and human skill the field: + Dark showers of javelins fly from foes to foes; + Now here, now there, the tide of combat flows; + While Troy's famed streams, that bound the deathful plain + On either side, run purple to the main. + + Great Ajax first to conquest led the way, + Broke the thick ranks, and turn'd the doubtful day. + The Thracian Acamas his falchion found, + And hew'd the enormous giant to the ground; + His thundering arm a deadly stroke impress'd + Where the black horse-hair nodded o'er his crest; + Fix'd in his front the brazen weapon lies, + And seals in endless shades his swimming eyes. + Next Teuthras' son distain'd the sands with blood, + Axylus, hospitable, rich, and good: + In fair Arisbe's walls (his native place)(161) + He held his seat! a friend to human race. + Fast by the road, his ever-open door + Obliged the wealthy, and relieved the poor. + To stern Tydides now he falls a prey, + No friend to guard him in the dreadful day! + Breathless the good man fell, and by his side + His faithful servant, old Calesius died. + + By great Euryalus was Dresus slain, + And next he laid Opheltius on the plain. + Two twins were near, bold, beautiful, and young, + From a fair naiad and Bucolion sprung: + (Laomedon's white flocks Bucolion fed, + That monarch's first-born by a foreign bed; + In secret woods he won the naiad's grace, + And two fair infants crown'd his strong embrace:) + Here dead they lay in all their youthful charms; + The ruthless victor stripp'd their shining arms. + + Astyalus by Polypoetes fell; + Ulysses' spear Pidytes sent to hell; + By Teucer's shaft brave Aretaon bled, + And Nestor's son laid stern Ablerus dead; + Great Agamemnon, leader of the brave, + The mortal wound of rich Elatus gave, + Who held in Pedasus his proud abode,(162) + And till'd the banks where silver Satnio flow'd. + Melanthius by Eurypylus was slain; + And Phylacus from Leitus flies in vain. + + Unbless'd Adrastus next at mercy lies + Beneath the Spartan spear, a living prize. + Scared with the din and tumult of the fight, + His headlong steeds, precipitate in flight, + Rush'd on a tamarisk's strong trunk, and broke + The shatter'd chariot from the crooked yoke; + Wide o'er the field, resistless as the wind, + For Troy they fly, and leave their lord behind. + Prone on his face he sinks beside the wheel: + Atrides o'er him shakes his vengeful steel; + The fallen chief in suppliant posture press'd + The victor's knees, and thus his prayer address'd: + + "O spare my youth, and for the life I owe + Large gifts of price my father shall bestow. + When fame shall tell, that, not in battle slain, + Thy hollow ships his captive son detain: + Rich heaps of brass shall in thy tent be told,(163) + And steel well-temper'd, and persuasive gold." + + He said: compassion touch'd the hero's heart + He stood, suspended with the lifted dart: + As pity pleaded for his vanquish'd prize, + Stern Agamemnon swift to vengeance flies, + And, furious, thus: "Oh impotent of mind!(164) + Shall these, shall these Atrides' mercy find? + Well hast thou known proud Troy's perfidious land, + And well her natives merit at thy hand! + Not one of all the race, nor sex, nor age, + Shall save a Trojan from our boundless rage: + Ilion shall perish whole, and bury all; + Her babes, her infants at the breast, shall fall;(165) + A dreadful lesson of exampled fate, + To warn the nations, and to curb the great!" + + The monarch spoke; the words, with warmth address'd, + To rigid justice steel'd his brother's breast + Fierce from his knees the hapless chief he thrust; + The monarch's javelin stretch'd him in the dust, + Then pressing with his foot his panting heart, + Forth from the slain he tugg'd the reeking dart. + Old Nestor saw, and roused the warrior's rage; + "Thus, heroes! thus the vigorous combat wage; + No son of Mars descend, for servile gains, + To touch the booty, while a foe remains. + Behold yon glittering host, your future spoil! + First gain the conquest, then reward the toil." + + And now had Greece eternal fame acquired, + And frighted Troy within her walls, retired, + Had not sage Helenus her state redress'd, + Taught by the gods that moved his sacred breast. + Where Hector stood, with great AEneas join'd, + The seer reveal'd the counsels of his mind: + + "Ye generous chiefs! on whom the immortals lay + The cares and glories of this doubtful day; + On whom your aids, your country's hopes depend; + Wise to consult, and active to defend! + Here, at our gates, your brave efforts unite, + Turn back the routed, and forbid the flight, + Ere yet their wives' soft arms the cowards gain, + The sport and insult of the hostile train. + When your commands have hearten'd every band, + Ourselves, here fix'd, will make the dangerous stand; + Press'd as we are, and sore of former fight, + These straits demand our last remains of might. + Meanwhile thou, Hector, to the town retire, + And teach our mother what the gods require: + Direct the queen to lead the assembled train + Of Troy's chief matrons to Minerva's fane;(166) + Unbar the sacred gates, and seek the power, + With offer'd vows, in Ilion's topmost tower. + The largest mantle her rich wardrobes hold, + Most prized for art, and labour'd o'er with gold, + Before the goddess' honour'd knees be spread, + And twelve young heifers to her altars led: + If so the power, atoned by fervent prayer, + Our wives, our infants, and our city spare, + And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire, + That mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire; + Not thus Achilles taught our hosts to dread, + Sprung though he was from more than mortal bed; + Not thus resistless ruled the stream of fight, + In rage unbounded, and unmatch'd in might." + + Hector obedient heard: and, with a bound, + Leap'd from his trembling chariot to the ground; + Through all his host inspiring force he flies, + And bids the thunder of the battle rise. + With rage recruited the bold Trojans glow, + And turn the tide of conflict on the foe: + Fierce in the front he shakes two dazzling spears; + All Greece recedes, and 'midst her triumphs fears; + Some god, they thought, who ruled the fate of wars, + Shot down avenging from the vault of stars. + + Then thus aloud: "Ye dauntless Dardans, hear! + And you whom distant nations send to war! + Be mindful of the strength your fathers bore; + Be still yourselves, and Hector asks no more. + One hour demands me in the Trojan wall, + To bid our altars flame, and victims fall: + Nor shall, I trust, the matrons' holy train, + And reverend elders, seek the gods in vain." + + This said, with ample strides the hero pass'd; + The shield's large orb behind his shoulder cast, + His neck o'ershading, to his ankle hung; + And as he march'd the brazen buckler rung. + + Now paused the battle (godlike Hector gone),(167) + Where daring Glaucus and great Tydeus' son + Between both armies met: the chiefs from far + Observed each other, and had mark'd for war. + Near as they drew, Tydides thus began: + + "What art thou, boldest of the race of man? + Our eyes till now that aspect ne'er beheld, + Where fame is reap'd amid the embattled field; + Yet far before the troops thou dar'st appear, + And meet a lance the fiercest heroes fear. + Unhappy they, and born of luckless sires, + Who tempt our fury when Minerva fires! + But if from heaven, celestial, thou descend, + Know with immortals we no more contend. + Not long Lycurgus view'd the golden light, + That daring man who mix'd with gods in fight. + Bacchus, and Bacchus' votaries, he drove, + With brandish'd steel, from Nyssa's sacred grove: + Their consecrated spears lay scatter'd round, + With curling vines and twisted ivy bound; + While Bacchus headlong sought the briny flood, + And Thetis' arms received the trembling god. + Nor fail'd the crime the immortals' wrath to move; + (The immortals bless'd with endless ease above;) + Deprived of sight by their avenging doom, + Cheerless he breathed, and wander'd in the gloom, + Then sunk unpitied to the dire abodes, + A wretch accursed, and hated by the gods! + I brave not heaven: but if the fruits of earth + Sustain thy life, and human be thy birth, + Bold as thou art, too prodigal of breath, + Approach, and enter the dark gates of death." + + "What, or from whence I am, or who my sire, + (Replied the chief,) can Tydeus' son inquire? + Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, + Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; + Another race the following spring supplies; + They fall successive, and successive rise: + So generations in their course decay; + So flourish these, when those are pass'd away. + But if thou still persist to search my birth, + Then hear a tale that fills the spacious earth. + + "A city stands on Argos' utmost bound, + (Argos the fair, for warlike steeds renown'd,) + Aeolian Sisyphus, with wisdom bless'd, + In ancient time the happy wall possess'd, + Then call'd Ephyre: Glaucus was his son; + Great Glaucus, father of Bellerophon, + Who o'er the sons of men in beauty shined, + Loved for that valour which preserves mankind. + Then mighty Praetus Argos' sceptre sway'd, + Whose hard commands Bellerophon obey'd. + With direful jealousy the monarch raged, + And the brave prince in numerous toils engaged. + For him Antaea burn'd with lawless flame, + And strove to tempt him from the paths of fame: + In vain she tempted the relentless youth, + Endued with wisdom, sacred fear, and truth. + Fired at his scorn the queen to Praetus fled, + And begg'd revenge for her insulted bed: + Incensed he heard, resolving on his fate; + But hospitable laws restrain'd his hate: + To Lycia the devoted youth he sent, + With tablets seal'd, that told his dire intent.(168) + Now bless'd by every power who guards the good, + The chief arrived at Xanthus' silver flood: + There Lycia's monarch paid him honours due, + Nine days he feasted, and nine bulls he slew. + But when the tenth bright morning orient glow'd, + The faithful youth his monarch's mandate show'd: + The fatal tablets, till that instant seal'd, + The deathful secret to the king reveal'd. + First, dire Chimaera's conquest was enjoin'd; + A mingled monster of no mortal kind! + Behind, a dragon's fiery tail was spread; + A goat's rough body bore a lion's head; + Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire; + Her gaping throat emits infernal fire. + + "This pest he slaughter'd, (for he read the skies, + And trusted heaven's informing prodigies,) + Then met in arms the Solymaean crew,(169) + (Fiercest of men,) and those the warrior slew; + Next the bold Amazons' whole force defied; + And conquer'd still, for heaven was on his side. + + "Nor ended here his toils: his Lycian foes, + At his return, a treacherous ambush rose, + With levell'd spears along the winding shore: + There fell they breathless, and return'd no more. + + "At length the monarch, with repentant grief, + Confess'd the gods, and god-descended chief; + His daughter gave, the stranger to detain, + With half the honours of his ample reign: + The Lycians grant a chosen space of ground, + With woods, with vineyards, and with harvests crown'd. + There long the chief his happy lot possess'd, + With two brave sons and one fair daughter bless'd; + (Fair e'en in heavenly eyes: her fruitful love + Crown'd with Sarpedon's birth the embrace of Jove;) + But when at last, distracted in his mind, + Forsook by heaven, forsaking humankind, + Wide o'er the Aleian field he chose to stray, + A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way!(170) + Woes heap'd on woes consumed his wasted heart: + His beauteous daughter fell by Phoebe's dart; + His eldest born by raging Mars was slain, + In combat on the Solymaean plain. + Hippolochus survived: from him I came, + The honour'd author of my birth and name; + By his decree I sought the Trojan town; + By his instructions learn to win renown, + To stand the first in worth as in command, + To add new honours to my native land, + Before my eyes my mighty sires to place, + And emulate the glories of our race." + + He spoke, and transport fill'd Tydides' heart; + In earth the generous warrior fix'd his dart, + Then friendly, thus the Lycian prince address'd: + "Welcome, my brave hereditary guest! + Thus ever let us meet, with kind embrace, + Nor stain the sacred friendship of our race. + Know, chief, our grandsires have been guests of old; + OEneus the strong, Bellerophon the bold: + Our ancient seat his honour'd presence graced, + Where twenty days in genial rites he pass'd. + The parting heroes mutual presents left; + A golden goblet was thy grandsire's gift; + OEneus a belt of matchless work bestowed, + That rich with Tyrian dye refulgent glow'd. + (This from his pledge I learn'd, which, safely stored + Among my treasures, still adorns my board: + For Tydeus left me young, when Thebe's wall + Beheld the sons of Greece untimely fall.) + Mindful of this, in friendship let us join; + If heaven our steps to foreign lands incline, + My guest in Argos thou, and I in Lycia thine. + Enough of Trojans to this lance shall yield, + In the full harvest of yon ample field; + Enough of Greeks shall dye thy spear with gore; + But thou and Diomed be foes no more. + Now change we arms, and prove to either host + We guard the friendship of the line we boast." + + Thus having said, the gallant chiefs alight, + Their hands they join, their mutual faith they plight; + Brave Glaucus then each narrow thought resign'd, + (Jove warm'd his bosom, and enlarged his mind,) + For Diomed's brass arms, of mean device, + For which nine oxen paid, (a vulgar price,) + He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought,(171) + A hundred beeves the shining purchase bought. + + Meantime the guardian of the Trojan state, + Great Hector, enter'd at the Scaean gate.(172) + Beneath the beech-tree's consecrated shades, + The Trojan matrons and the Trojan maids + Around him flock'd, all press'd with pious care + For husbands, brothers, sons, engaged in war. + He bids the train in long procession go, + And seek the gods, to avert the impending woe. + And now to Priam's stately courts he came, + Rais'd on arch'd columns of stupendous frame; + O'er these a range of marble structure runs, + The rich pavilions of his fifty sons, + In fifty chambers lodged: and rooms of state,(173) + Opposed to those, where Priam's daughters sate. + Twelve domes for them and their loved spouses shone, + Of equal beauty, and of polish'd stone. + Hither great Hector pass'd, nor pass'd unseen + Of royal Hecuba, his mother-queen. + (With her Laodice, whose beauteous face + Surpass'd the nymphs of Troy's illustrious race.) + Long in a strict embrace she held her son, + And press'd his hand, and tender thus begun: + + "O Hector! say, what great occasion calls + My son from fight, when Greece surrounds our walls; + Com'st thou to supplicate the almighty power + With lifted hands, from Ilion's lofty tower? + Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus crown'd, + In Jove's high name, to sprinkle on the ground, + And pay due vows to all the gods around. + Then with a plenteous draught refresh thy soul, + And draw new spirits from the generous bowl; + Spent as thou art with long laborious fight, + The brave defender of thy country's right." + + "Far hence be Bacchus' gifts; (the chief rejoin'd;) + Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind, + Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the noble mind. + Let chiefs abstain, and spare the sacred juice + To sprinkle to the gods, its better use. + By me that holy office were profaned; + Ill fits it me, with human gore distain'd, + To the pure skies these horrid hands to raise, + Or offer heaven's great Sire polluted praise. + You, with your matrons, go! a spotless train, + And burn rich odours in Minerva's fane. + The largest mantle your full wardrobes hold, + Most prized for art, and labour'd o'er with gold, + Before the goddess' honour'd knees be spread, + And twelve young heifers to her altar led. + So may the power, atoned by fervent prayer, + Our wives, our infants, and our city spare; + And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire, + Who mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire. + Be this, O mother, your religious care: + I go to rouse soft Paris to the war; + If yet not lost to all the sense of shame, + The recreant warrior hear the voice of fame. + Oh, would kind earth the hateful wretch embrace, + That pest of Troy, that ruin of our race!(174) + Deep to the dark abyss might he descend, + Troy yet should flourish, and my sorrows end." + + This heard, she gave command: and summon'd came + Each noble matron and illustrious dame. + The Phrygian queen to her rich wardrobe went, + Where treasured odours breathed a costly scent. + There lay the vestures of no vulgar art, + Sidonian maids embroider'd every part, + Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore, + With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore. + Here, as the queen revolved with careful eyes + The various textures and the various dyes, + She chose a veil that shone superior far, + And glow'd refulgent as the morning star. + Herself with this the long procession leads; + The train majestically slow proceeds. + Soon as to Ilion's topmost tower they come, + And awful reach the high Palladian dome, + Antenor's consort, fair Theano, waits + As Pallas' priestess, and unbars the gates. + With hands uplifted and imploring eyes, + They fill the dome with supplicating cries. + The priestess then the shining veil displays, + Placed on Minerva's knees, and thus she prays: + + "Oh awful goddess! ever-dreadful maid, + Troy's strong defence, unconquer'd Pallas, aid! + Break thou Tydides' spear, and let him fall + Prone on the dust before the Trojan wall! + So twelve young heifers, guiltless of the yoke, + Shall fill thy temple with a grateful smoke. + But thou, atoned by penitence and prayer, + Ourselves, our infants, and our city spare!" + So pray'd the priestess in her holy fane; + So vow'd the matrons, but they vow'd in vain. + + While these appear before the power with prayers, + Hector to Paris' lofty dome repairs.(175) + Himself the mansion raised, from every part + Assembling architects of matchless art. + Near Priam's court and Hector's palace stands + The pompous structure, and the town commands. + A spear the hero bore of wondrous strength, + Of full ten cubits was the lance's length, + The steely point with golden ringlets join'd, + Before him brandish'd, at each motion shined + Thus entering, in the glittering rooms he found + His brother-chief, whose useless arms lay round, + His eyes delighting with their splendid show, + Brightening the shield, and polishing the bow. + Beside him Helen with her virgins stands, + Guides their rich labours, and instructs their hands. + + Him thus inactive, with an ardent look + The prince beheld, and high-resenting spoke. + "Thy hate to Troy, is this the time to show? + (O wretch ill-fated, and thy country's foe!) + Paris and Greece against us both conspire, + Thy close resentment, and their vengeful ire. + For thee great Ilion's guardian heroes fall, + Till heaps of dead alone defend her wall, + For thee the soldier bleeds, the matron mourns, + And wasteful war in all its fury burns. + Ungrateful man! deserves not this thy care, + Our troops to hearten, and our toils to share? + Rise, or behold the conquering flames ascend, + And all the Phrygian glories at an end." + + "Brother, 'tis just, (replied the beauteous youth,) + Thy free remonstrance proves thy worth and truth: + Yet charge my absence less, O generous chief! + On hate to Troy, than conscious shame and grief: + Here, hid from human eyes, thy brother sate, + And mourn'd, in secret, his and Ilion's fate. + 'Tis now enough; now glory spreads her charms, + And beauteous Helen calls her chief to arms. + Conquest to-day my happier sword may bless, + 'Tis man's to fight, but heaven's to give success. + But while I arm, contain thy ardent mind; + Or go, and Paris shall not lag behind." + + [Illustration: HECTOR CHIDING PARIS.] + + HECTOR CHIDING PARIS. + + + He said, nor answer'd Priam's warlike son; + When Helen thus with lowly grace begun: + + "Oh, generous brother! (if the guilty dame + That caused these woes deserve a sister's name!) + Would heaven, ere all these dreadful deeds were done, + The day that show'd me to the golden sun + Had seen my death! why did not whirlwinds bear + The fatal infant to the fowls of air? + Why sunk I not beneath the whelming tide, + And midst the roarings of the waters died? + Heaven fill'd up all my ills, and I accursed + Bore all, and Paris of those ills the worst. + Helen at least a braver spouse might claim, + Warm'd with some virtue, some regard of fame! + Now tired with toils, thy fainting limbs recline, + With toils, sustain'd for Paris' sake and mine + The gods have link'd our miserable doom, + Our present woe, and infamy to come: + Wide shall it spread, and last through ages long, + Example sad! and theme of future song." + + The chief replied: "This time forbids to rest; + The Trojan bands, by hostile fury press'd, + Demand their Hector, and his arm require; + The combat urges, and my soul's on fire. + Urge thou thy knight to march where glory calls, + And timely join me, ere I leave the walls. + Ere yet I mingle in the direful fray, + My wife, my infant, claim a moment's stay; + This day (perhaps the last that sees me here) + Demands a parting word, a tender tear: + This day, some god who hates our Trojan land + May vanquish Hector by a Grecian hand." + + He said, and pass'd with sad presaging heart + To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part; + At home he sought her, but he sought in vain; + She, with one maid of all her menial train, + Had hence retired; and with her second joy, + The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy, + Pensive she stood on Ilion's towery height, + Beheld the war, and sicken'd at the sight; + There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore, + Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore. + + But he who found not whom his soul desired, + Whose virtue charm'd him as her beauty fired, + Stood in the gates, and ask'd "what way she bent + Her parting step? If to the fane she went, + Where late the mourning matrons made resort; + Or sought her sisters in the Trojan court?" + "Not to the court, (replied the attendant train,) + Nor mix'd with matrons to Minerva's fane: + To Ilion's steepy tower she bent her way, + To mark the fortunes of the doubtful day. + Troy fled, she heard, before the Grecian sword; + She heard, and trembled for her absent lord: + Distracted with surprise, she seem'd to fly, + Fear on her cheek, and sorrow m her eye. + The nurse attended with her infant boy, + The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy." + + Hector this heard, return'd without delay; + Swift through the town he trod his former way, + Through streets of palaces, and walks of state; + And met the mourner at the Scaean gate. + With haste to meet him sprung the joyful fair. + His blameless wife, Aetion's wealthy heir: + (Cilician Thebe great Aetion sway'd, + And Hippoplacus' wide extended shade:) + The nurse stood near, in whose embraces press'd, + His only hope hung smiling at her breast, + Whom each soft charm and early grace adorn, + Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn. + To this loved infant Hector gave the name + Scamandrius, from Scamander's honour'd stream; + Astyanax the Trojans call'd the boy, + From his great father, the defence of Troy. + Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased resign'd + To tender passions all his mighty mind; + His beauteous princess cast a mournful look, + Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke; + Her bosom laboured with a boding sigh, + And the big tear stood trembling in her eye. + + [Illustration: THE MEETING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.] + + THE MEETING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. + + + "Too daring prince! ah, whither dost thou run? + Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son! + And think'st thou not how wretched we shall be, + A widow I, a helpless orphan he? + For sure such courage length of life denies, + And thou must fall, thy virtue's sacrifice. + Greece in her single heroes strove in vain; + Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain. + O grant me, gods, ere Hector meets his doom, + All I can ask of heaven, an early tomb! + So shall my days in one sad tenor run, + And end with sorrows as they first begun. + No parent now remains my griefs to share, + No father's aid, no mother's tender care. + The fierce Achilles wrapt our walls in fire, + Laid Thebe waste, and slew my warlike sire! + His fate compassion in the victor bred; + Stern as he was, he yet revered the dead, + His radiant arms preserved from hostile spoil, + And laid him decent on the funeral pile; + Then raised a mountain where his bones were burn'd, + The mountain-nymphs the rural tomb adorn'd, + Jove's sylvan daughters bade their elms bestow + A barren shade, and in his honour grow. + + "By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell; + In one sad day beheld the gates of hell; + While the fat herds and snowy flocks they fed, + Amid their fields the hapless heroes bled! + My mother lived to wear the victor's bands, + The queen of Hippoplacia's sylvan lands: + Redeem'd too late, she scarce beheld again + Her pleasing empire and her native plain, + When ah! oppress'd by life-consuming woe, + She fell a victim to Diana's bow. + + "Yet while my Hector still survives, I see + My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee: + Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all + Once more will perish, if my Hector fall, + Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share: + Oh, prove a husband's and a father's care! + That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, + Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy; + Thou, from this tower defend the important post; + There Agamemnon points his dreadful host, + That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain, + And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train. + Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given, + Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven. + Let others in the field their arms employ, + But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy." + + The chief replied: "That post shall be my care, + Not that alone, but all the works of war. + How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd, + And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground + Attaint the lustre of my former name, + Should Hector basely quit the field of fame? + My early youth was bred to martial pains, + My soul impels me to the embattled plains! + Let me be foremost to defend the throne, + And guard my father's glories, and my own. + + "Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates! + (How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!) + The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend, + And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end. + And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind, + My mother's death, the ruin of my kind, + Not Priam's hoary hairs defiled with gore, + Not all my brothers gasping on the shore; + As thine, Andromache! Thy griefs I dread: + I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led! + In Argive looms our battles to design, + And woes, of which so large a part was thine! + To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring + The weight of waters from Hyperia's spring. + There while you groan beneath the load of life, + They cry, 'Behold the mighty Hector's wife!' + Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see, + Imbitters all thy woes, by naming me. + The thoughts of glory past, and present shame, + A thousand griefs shall waken at the name! + May I lie cold before that dreadful day, + Press'd with a load of monumental clay! + Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep, + Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep." + + Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of Troy + Stretch'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy. + The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, + Scared at the dazzling helm, and nodding crest. + With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled, + And Hector hasted to relieve his child, + The glittering terrors from his brows unbound, + And placed the beaming helmet on the ground; + Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air, + Thus to the gods preferr'd a father's prayer: + + "O thou! whose glory fills the ethereal throne, + And all ye deathless powers! protect my son! + Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown, + To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown, + Against his country's foes the war to wage, + And rise the Hector of the future age! + So when triumphant from successful toils + Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils, + Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim, + And say, 'This chief transcends his father's fame:' + While pleased amidst the general shouts of Troy, + His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy." + + He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, + Restored the pleasing burden to her arms; + Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid, + Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd. + The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear, + She mingled with a smile a tender tear. + The soften'd chief with kind compassion view'd, + And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued: + + "Andromache! my soul's far better part, + Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart? + No hostile hand can antedate my doom, + Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. + Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth; + And such the hard condition of our birth: + No force can then resist, no flight can save, + All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. + No more--but hasten to thy tasks at home, + There guide the spindle, and direct the loom: + Me glory summons to the martial scene, + The field of combat is the sphere for men. + Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, + The first in danger as the first in fame." + + Thus having said, the glorious chief resumes + His towery helmet, black with shading plumes. + His princess parts with a prophetic sigh, + Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye + That stream'd at every look; then, moving slow, + Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe. + There, while her tears deplored the godlike man, + Through all her train the soft infection ran; + The pious maids their mingled sorrows shed, + And mourn the living Hector, as the dead. + + But now, no longer deaf to honour's call, + Forth issues Paris from the palace wall. + In brazen arms that cast a gleamy ray, + Swift through the town the warrior bends his way. + The wanton courser thus with reins unbound(176) + Breaks from his stall, and beats the trembling ground; + Pamper'd and proud, he seeks the wonted tides, + And laves, in height of blood his shining sides; + His head now freed, he tosses to the skies; + His mane dishevell'd o'er his shoulders flies; + He snuffs the females in the distant plain, + And springs, exulting, to his fields again. + With equal triumph, sprightly, bold, and gay, + In arms refulgent as the god of day, + The son of Priam, glorying in his might, + Rush'd forth with Hector to the fields of fight. + + And now, the warriors passing on the way, + The graceful Paris first excused his stay. + To whom the noble Hector thus replied: + "O chief! in blood, and now in arms, allied! + Thy power in war with justice none contest; + Known is thy courage, and thy strength confess'd. + What pity sloth should seize a soul so brave, + Or godlike Paris live a woman's slave! + My heart weeps blood at what the Trojans say, + And hopes thy deeds shall wipe the stain away. + Haste then, in all their glorious labours share, + For much they suffer, for thy sake, in war. + These ills shall cease, whene'er by Jove's decree + We crown the bowl to heaven and liberty: + While the proud foe his frustrate triumphs mourns, + And Greece indignant through her seas returns." + + [Illustration: BOWS AND BOW CASE.] + + BOWS AND BOW CASE. + + + [Illustration: IRIS.] + + IRIS. + + + + + +BOOK VII. + + +ARGUMENT + +THE SINGLE COMBAT OF HECTOR AND AJAX. + +The battle renewing with double ardour upon the return of Hector, Minerva +is under apprehensions for the Greeks. Apollo, seeing her descend from +Olympus, joins her near the Scaean gate. They agree to put off the general +engagement for that day, and incite Hector to challenge the Greeks to a +single combat. Nine of the princes accepting the challenge, the lot is +cast and falls upon Ajax. These heroes, after several attacks, are parted +by the night. The Trojans calling a council, Antenor purposes the delivery +of Helen to the Greeks, to which Paris will not consent, but offers to +restore them her riches. Priam sends a herald to make this offer, and to +demand a truce for burning the dead, the last of which only is agreed to +by Agamemnon. When the funerals are performed, the Greeks, pursuant to the +advice of Nestor, erect a fortification to protect their fleet and camp, +flanked with towers, and defended by a ditch and palisades. Neptune +testifies his jealousy at this work, but is pacified by a promise from +Jupiter. Both armies pass the night in feasting but Jupiter disheartens +the Trojans with thunder, and other signs of his wrath. + +The three and twentieth day ends with the duel of Hector and Ajax, the +next day the truce is agreed; another is taken up in the funeral rites of +the slain and one more in building the fortification before the ships. So +that somewhat about three days is employed in this book. The scene lies +wholly in the field. + + So spoke the guardian of the Trojan state, + Then rush'd impetuous through the Scaean gate. + Him Paris follow'd to the dire alarms; + Both breathing slaughter, both resolved in arms. + As when to sailors labouring through the main, + That long have heaved the weary oar in vain, + Jove bids at length the expected gales arise; + The gales blow grateful, and the vessel flies. + So welcome these to Troy's desiring train, + The bands are cheer'd, the war awakes again. + + Bold Paris first the work of death begun + On great Menestheus, Areithous' son, + Sprung from the fair Philomeda's embrace, + The pleasing Arne was his native place. + Then sunk Eioneus to the shades below, + Beneath his steely casque he felt the blow(177) + Full on his neck, from Hector's weighty hand; + And roll'd, with limbs relax'd, along the land. + By Glaucus' spear the bold Iphmous bleeds, + Fix'd in the shoulder as he mounts his steeds; + Headlong he tumbles: his slack nerves unbound, + Drop the cold useless members on the ground. + + When now Minerva saw her Argives slain, + From vast Olympus to the gleaming plain + Fierce she descends: Apollo marked her flight, + Nor shot less swift from Ilion's towery height. + Radiant they met, beneath the beechen shade; + When thus Apollo to the blue-eyed maid: + + "What cause, O daughter of Almighty Jove! + Thus wings thy progress from the realms above? + Once more impetuous dost thou bend thy way, + To give to Greece the long divided day? + Too much has Troy already felt thy hate, + Now breathe thy rage, and hush the stern debate; + This day, the business of the field suspend; + War soon shall kindle, and great Ilion bend; + Since vengeful goddesses confederate join + To raze her walls, though built by hands divine." + + To whom the progeny of Jove replies: + "I left, for this, the council of the skies: + But who shall bid conflicting hosts forbear, + What art shall calm the furious sons of war?" + To her the god: "Great Hector's soul incite + To dare the boldest Greek to single fight, + Till Greece, provoked, from all her numbers show + A warrior worthy to be Hector's foe." + + At this agreed, the heavenly powers withdrew; + Sage Helenus their secret counsels knew; + Hector, inspired, he sought: to him address'd, + Thus told the dictates of his sacred breast: + "O son of Priam! let thy faithful ear + Receive my words: thy friend and brother hear! + Go forth persuasive, and a while engage + The warring nations to suspend their rage; + Then dare the boldest of the hostile train + To mortal combat on the listed plain. + For not this day shall end thy glorious date; + The gods have spoke it, and their voice is fate." + + He said: the warrior heard the word with joy; + Then with his spear restrain'd the youth of Troy, + Held by the midst athwart. On either hand + The squadrons part; the expecting Trojans stand; + Great Agamemnon bids the Greeks forbear: + They breathe, and hush the tumult of the war. + The Athenian maid, and glorious god of day,(178) + With silent joy the settling hosts survey: + In form of vultures, on the beech's height + They sit conceal'd, and wait the future fight. + + The thronging troops obscure the dusky fields, + Horrid with bristling spears, and gleaming shields. + As when a general darkness veils the main, + (Soft Zephyr curling the wide wat'ry plain,) + The waves scarce heave, the face of ocean sleeps, + And a still horror saddens all the deeps; + Thus in thick orders settling wide around, + At length composed they sit, and shade the ground. + Great Hector first amidst both armies broke + The solemn silence, and their powers bespoke: + + "Hear, all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian bands, + What my soul prompts, and what some god commands. + Great Jove, averse our warfare to compose, + O'erwhelms the nations with new toils and woes; + War with a fiercer tide once more returns, + Till Ilion falls, or till yon navy burns. + You then, O princes of the Greeks! appear; + 'Tis Hector speaks, and calls the gods to hear: + From all your troops select the boldest knight, + And him, the boldest, Hector dares to fight. + Here if I fall, by chance of battle slain, + Be his my spoil, and his these arms remain; + But let my body, to my friends return'd, + By Trojan hands and Trojan flames be burn'd. + And if Apollo, in whose aid I trust, + Shall stretch your daring champion in the dust; + If mine the glory to despoil the foe; + On Phoebus' temple I'll his arms bestow: + The breathless carcase to your navy sent, + Greece on the shore shall raise a monument; + Which when some future mariner surveys, + Wash'd by broad Hellespont's resounding seas, + Thus shall he say, 'A valiant Greek lies there, + By Hector slain, the mighty man of war,' + The stone shall tell your vanquish'd hero's name. + And distant ages learn the victor's fame." + + This fierce defiance Greece astonish'd heard, + Blush'd to refuse, and to accept it fear'd. + Stern Menelaus first the silence broke, + And, inly groaning, thus opprobrious spoke: + + "Women of Greece! O scandal of your race, + Whose coward souls your manly form disgrace, + How great the shame, when every age shall know + That not a Grecian met this noble foe! + Go then! resolve to earth, from whence ye grew, + A heartless, spiritless, inglorious crew! + Be what ye seem, unanimated clay, + Myself will dare the danger of the day; + 'Tis man's bold task the generous strife to try, + But in the hands of God is victory." + + These words scarce spoke, with generous ardour press'd, + His manly limbs in azure arms he dress'd. + That day, Atrides! a superior hand + Had stretch'd thee breathless on the hostile strand; + But all at once, thy fury to compose, + The kings of Greece, an awful band, arose; + Even he their chief, great Agamemnon, press'd + Thy daring hand, and this advice address'd: + "Whither, O Menelaus! wouldst thou run, + And tempt a fate which prudence bids thee shun? + Grieved though thou art, forbear the rash design; + Great Hectors arm is mightier far than thine: + Even fierce Achilles learn'd its force to fear, + And trembling met this dreadful son of war. + Sit thou secure, amidst thy social band; + Greece in our cause shall arm some powerful hand. + The mightiest warrior of the Achaian name, + Though bold and burning with desire of fame, + Content the doubtful honour might forego, + So great the danger, and so brave the foe." + + He said, and turn'd his brother's vengeful mind; + He stoop'd to reason, and his rage resign'd, + No longer bent to rush on certain harms; + His joyful friends unbrace his azure arms. + + He from whose lips divine persuasion flows, + Grave Nestor, then, in graceful act arose; + Thus to the kings he spoke: "What grief, what shame + Attend on Greece, and all the Grecian name! + How shall, alas! her hoary heroes mourn + Their sons degenerate, and their race a scorn! + What tears shall down thy silvery beard be roll'd, + O Peleus, old in arms, in wisdom old! + Once with what joy the generous prince would hear + Of every chief who fought this glorious war, + Participate their fame, and pleased inquire + Each name, each action, and each hero's sire! + Gods! should he see our warriors trembling stand, + And trembling all before one hostile hand; + How would he lift his aged arms on high, + Lament inglorious Greece, and beg to die! + Oh! would to all the immortal powers above, + Minerva, Phoebus, and almighty Jove! + Years might again roll back, my youth renew, + And give this arm the spring which once it knew + When fierce in war, where Jardan's waters fall, + I led my troops to Phea's trembling wall, + And with the Arcadian spears my prowess tried, + Where Celadon rolls down his rapid tide.(179) + There Ereuthalion braved us in the field, + Proud Areithous' dreadful arms to wield; + Great Areithous, known from shore to shore + By the huge, knotted, iron mace he bore; + No lance he shook, nor bent the twanging bow, + But broke, with this, the battle of the foe. + Him not by manly force Lycurgus slew, + Whose guileful javelin from the thicket flew, + Deep in a winding way his breast assailed, + Nor aught the warrior's thundering mace avail'd. + Supine he fell: those arms which Mars before + Had given the vanquish'd, now the victor bore: + But when old age had dimm'd Lycurgus' eyes, + To Ereuthalion he consign'd the prize. + Furious with this he crush'd our levell'd bands, + And dared the trial of the strongest hands; + Nor could the strongest hands his fury stay: + All saw, and fear'd, his huge tempestuous sway + Till I, the youngest of the host, appear'd, + And, youngest, met whom all our army fear'd. + I fought the chief: my arms Minerva crown'd: + Prone fell the giant o'er a length of ground. + What then I was, O were your Nestor now! + Not Hector's self should want an equal foe. + But, warriors, you that youthful vigour boast, + The flower of Greece, the examples of our host, + Sprung from such fathers, who such numbers sway, + Can you stand trembling, and desert the day?" + + His warm reproofs the listening kings inflame; + And nine, the noblest of the Grecian name, + Up-started fierce: but far before the rest + The king of men advanced his dauntless breast: + Then bold Tydides, great in arms, appear'd; + And next his bulk gigantic Ajax rear'd; + Oileus follow'd; Idomen was there,(180) + And Merion, dreadful as the god of war: + With these Eurypylus and Thoas stand, + And wise Ulysses closed the daring band. + All these, alike inspired with noble rage, + Demand the fight. To whom the Pylian sage: + + "Lest thirst of glory your brave souls divide, + What chief shall combat, let the gods decide. + Whom heaven shall choose, be his the chance to raise + His country's fame, his own immortal praise." + + The lots produced, each hero signs his own: + Then in the general's helm the fates are thrown,(181) + The people pray, with lifted eyes and hands, + And vows like these ascend from all the bands: + "Grant, thou Almighty! in whose hand is fate, + A worthy champion for the Grecian state: + This task let Ajax or Tydides prove, + Or he, the king of kings, beloved by Jove." + Old Nestor shook the casque. By heaven inspired, + Leap'd forth the lot, of every Greek desired. + This from the right to left the herald bears, + Held out in order to the Grecian peers; + Each to his rival yields the mark unknown, + Till godlike Ajax finds the lot his own; + Surveys the inscription with rejoicing eyes, + Then casts before him, and with transport cries: + + "Warriors! I claim the lot, and arm with joy; + Be mine the conquest of this chief of Troy. + Now while my brightest arms my limbs invest, + To Saturn's son be all your vows address'd: + But pray in secret, lest the foes should hear, + And deem your prayers the mean effect of fear. + Said I in secret? No, your vows declare + In such a voice as fills the earth and air, + Lives there a chief whom Ajax ought to dread? + Ajax, in all the toils of battle bred! + From warlike Salamis I drew my birth, + And, born to combats, fear no force on earth." + + He said. The troops with elevated eyes, + Implore the god whose thunder rends the skies: + "O father of mankind, superior lord! + On lofty Ida's holy hill adored: + Who in the highest heaven hast fix'd thy throne, + Supreme of gods! unbounded and alone: + Grant thou, that Telamon may bear away + The praise and conquest of this doubtful day; + Or, if illustrious Hector be thy care, + That both may claim it, and that both may share." + + Now Ajax braced his dazzling armour on; + Sheathed in bright steel the giant-warrior shone: + He moves to combat with majestic pace; + So stalks in arms the grisly god of Thrace,(182) + When Jove to punish faithless men prepares, + And gives whole nations to the waste of wars, + Thus march'd the chief, tremendous as a god; + Grimly he smiled; earth trembled as he strode:(183) + His massy javelin quivering in his hand, + He stood, the bulwark of the Grecian band. + Through every Argive heart new transport ran; + All Troy stood trembling at the mighty man: + Even Hector paused; and with new doubt oppress'd, + Felt his great heart suspended in his breast: + 'Twas vain to seek retreat, and vain to fear; + Himself had challenged, and the foe drew near. + + Stern Telamon behind his ample shield, + As from a brazen tower, o'erlook'd the field. + Huge was its orb, with seven thick folds o'ercast, + Of tough bull-hides; of solid brass the last, + (The work of Tychius, who in Hyle dwell'd + And in all arts of armoury excell'd,) + This Ajax bore before his manly breast, + And, threatening, thus his adverse chief address'd: + + "Hector! approach my arm, and singly know + What strength thou hast, and what the Grecian foe. + Achilles shuns the fight; yet some there are, + Not void of soul, and not unskill'd in war: + Let him, unactive on the sea-beat shore, + Indulge his wrath, and aid our arms no more; + Whole troops of heroes Greece has yet to boast, + And sends thee one, a sample of her host, + Such as I am, I come to prove thy might; + No more--be sudden, and begin the fight." + + "O son of Telamon, thy country's pride! + (To Ajax thus the Trojan prince replied) + Me, as a boy, or woman, wouldst thou fright, + New to the field, and trembling at the fight? + Thou meet'st a chief deserving of thy arms, + To combat born, and bred amidst alarms: + I know to shift my ground, remount the car, + Turn, charge, and answer every call of war; + To right, to left, the dexterous lance I wield, + And bear thick battle on my sounding shield + But open be our fight, and bold each blow; + I steal no conquest from a noble foe." + + He said, and rising, high above the field + Whirl'd the long lance against the sevenfold shield. + Full on the brass descending from above + Through six bull-hides the furious weapon drove, + Till in the seventh it fix'd. Then Ajax threw; + Through Hector's shield the forceful javelin flew, + His corslet enters, and his garment rends, + And glancing downwards, near his flank descends. + The wary Trojan shrinks, and bending low + Beneath his buckler, disappoints the blow. + From their bored shields the chiefs their javelins drew, + Then close impetuous, and the charge renew; + Fierce as the mountain-lions bathed in blood, + Or foaming boars, the terror of the wood. + At Ajax, Hector his long lance extends; + The blunted point against the buckler bends; + But Ajax, watchful as his foe drew near, + Drove through the Trojan targe the knotty spear; + It reach'd his neck, with matchless strength impell'd! + Spouts the black gore, and dims his shining shield. + Yet ceased not Hector thus; but stooping down, + In his strong hand up-heaved a flinty stone, + Black, craggy, vast: to this his force he bends; + Full on the brazen boss the stone descends; + The hollow brass resounded with the shock: + Then Ajax seized the fragment of a rock, + Applied each nerve, and swinging round on high, + With force tempestuous, let the ruin fly; + The huge stone thundering through his buckler broke: + His slacken'd knees received the numbing stroke; + Great Hector falls extended on the field, + His bulk supporting on the shatter'd shield: + Nor wanted heavenly aid: Apollo's might + Confirm'd his sinews, and restored to fight. + And now both heroes their broad falchions drew + In flaming circles round their heads they flew; + But then by heralds' voice the word was given. + The sacred ministers of earth and heaven: + Divine Talthybius, whom the Greeks employ. + And sage Idaeus on the part of Troy, + Between the swords their peaceful sceptres rear'd; + And first Idaeus' awful voice was heard: + + [Illustration: HECTOR AND AJAX SEPARATED BY THE HERALDS.] + + HECTOR AND AJAX SEPARATED BY THE HERALDS. + + + "Forbear, my sons! your further force to prove, + Both dear to men, and both beloved of Jove. + To either host your matchless worth is known, + Each sounds your praise, and war is all your own. + But now the Night extends her awful shade; + The goddess parts you; be the night obey'd."(184) + + To whom great Ajax his high soul express'd: + "O sage! to Hector be these words address'd. + Let him, who first provoked our chiefs to fight, + Let him demand the sanction of the night; + If first he ask'd it, I content obey, + And cease the strife when Hector shows the way." + + "O first of Greeks! (his noble foe rejoin'd) + Whom heaven adorns, superior to thy kind, + With strength of body, and with worth of mind! + Now martial law commands us to forbear; + Hereafter we shall meet in glorious war, + Some future day shall lengthen out the strife, + And let the gods decide of death or life! + Since, then, the night extends her gloomy shade, + And heaven enjoins it, be the night obey'd. + Return, brave Ajax, to thy Grecian friends, + And joy the nations whom thy arm defends; + As I shall glad each chief, and Trojan wife, + Who wearies heaven with vows for Hector's life. + But let us, on this memorable day, + Exchange some gift: that Greece and Troy may say, + 'Not hate, but glory, made these chiefs contend; + And each brave foe was in his soul a friend.'" + + With that, a sword with stars of silver graced, + The baldric studded, and the sheath enchased, + He gave the Greek. The generous Greek bestow'd + A radiant belt that rich with purple glow'd. + Then with majestic grace they quit the plain; + This seeks the Grecian, that the Phrygian train. + + The Trojan bands returning Hector wait, + And hail with joy the Champion of their state; + Escaped great Ajax, they survey him round, + Alive, unarm'd, and vigorous from his wound; + To Troy's high gates the godlike man they bear + Their present triumph, as their late despair. + + But Ajax, glorying in his hardy deed, + The well-arm'd Greeks to Agamemnon lead. + A steer for sacrifice the king design'd, + Of full five years, and of the nobler kind. + The victim falls; they strip the smoking hide, + The beast they quarter, and the joints divide; + Then spread the tables, the repast prepare, + Each takes his seat, and each receives his share. + The king himself (an honorary sign) + Before great Ajax placed the mighty chine.(185) + When now the rage of hunger was removed, + Nestor, in each persuasive art approved, + The sage whose counsels long had sway'd the rest, + In words like these his prudent thought express'd: + + "How dear, O kings! this fatal day has cost, + What Greeks are perish'd! what a people lost! + What tides of blood have drench'd Scamander's shore! + What crowds of heroes sunk to rise no more! + Then hear me, chief! nor let the morrow's light + Awake thy squadrons to new toils of fight: + Some space at least permit the war to breathe, + While we to flames our slaughter'd friends bequeath, + From the red field their scatter'd bodies bear, + And nigh the fleet a funeral structure rear; + So decent urns their snowy bones may keep, + And pious children o'er their ashes weep. + Here, where on one promiscuous pile they blazed, + High o'er them all a general tomb be raised; + Next, to secure our camp and naval powers, + Raise an embattled wall, with lofty towers; + From space to space be ample gates around, + For passing chariots; and a trench profound. + So Greece to combat shall in safety go, + Nor fear the fierce incursions of the foe." + 'Twas thus the sage his wholesome counsel moved; + The sceptred kings of Greece his words approved. + + Meanwhile, convened at Priam's palace-gate, + The Trojan peers in nightly council sate; + A senate void of order, as of choice: + Their hearts were fearful, and confused their voice. + Antenor, rising, thus demands their ear: + "Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliars, hear! + 'Tis heaven the counsel of my breast inspires, + And I but move what every god requires: + Let Sparta's treasures be this hour restored, + And Argive Helen own her ancient lord. + The ties of faith, the sworn alliance, broke, + Our impious battles the just gods provoke. + As this advice ye practise, or reject, + So hope success, or dread the dire effect." + + The senior spoke and sate. To whom replied + The graceful husband of the Spartan bride: + "Cold counsels, Trojan, may become thy years + But sound ungrateful in a warrior's ears: + Old man, if void of fallacy or art, + Thy words express the purpose of thy heart, + Thou, in thy time, more sound advice hast given; + But wisdom has its date, assign'd by heaven. + Then hear me, princes of the Trojan name! + Their treasures I'll restore, but not the dame; + My treasures too, for peace, I will resign; + But be this bright possession ever mine." + + 'Twas then, the growing discord to compose, + Slow from his seat the reverend Priam rose: + His godlike aspect deep attention drew: + He paused, and these pacific words ensue: + + "Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliar bands! + Now take refreshment as the hour demands; + Guard well the walls, relieve the watch of night. + Till the new sun restores the cheerful light. + Then shall our herald, to the Atrides sent, + Before their ships proclaim my son's intent. + Next let a truce be ask'd, that Troy may burn + Her slaughter'd heroes, and their bones inurn; + That done, once more the fate of war be tried, + And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide!" + + The monarch spoke: the warriors snatch'd with haste + (Each at his post in arms) a short repast. + Soon as the rosy morn had waked the day, + To the black ships Idaeus bent his way; + There, to the sons of Mars, in council found, + He raised his voice: the host stood listening round. + + "Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Greeks, give ear! + The words of Troy, and Troy's great monarch, hear. + Pleased may ye hear (so heaven succeed my prayers) + What Paris, author of the war, declares. + The spoils and treasures he to Ilion bore + (Oh had he perish'd ere they touch'd our shore!) + He proffers injured Greece: with large increase + Of added Trojan wealth to buy the peace. + But to restore the beauteous bride again, + This Greece demands, and Troy requests in vain. + Next, O ye chiefs! we ask a truce to burn + Our slaughter'd heroes, and their bones inurn. + That done, once more the fate of war be tried, + And whose the conquest, mighty Jove decide!" + + The Greeks gave ear, but none the silence broke; + At length Tydides rose, and rising spoke: + "Oh, take not, friends! defrauded of your fame, + Their proffer'd wealth, nor even the Spartan dame. + Let conquest make them ours: fate shakes their wall, + And Troy already totters to her fall." + + The admiring chiefs, and all the Grecian name, + With general shouts return'd him loud acclaim. + Then thus the king of kings rejects the peace: + "Herald! in him thou hear'st the voice of Greece + For what remains; let funeral flames be fed + With heroes' corps: I war not with the dead: + Go search your slaughtered chiefs on yonder plain, + And gratify the manes of the slain. + Be witness, Jove, whose thunder rolls on high!" + He said, and rear'd his sceptre to the sky. + + To sacred Troy, where all her princes lay + To wait the event, the herald bent his way. + He came, and standing in the midst, explain'd + The peace rejected, but the truce obtain'd. + Straight to their several cares the Trojans move, + Some search the plains, some fell the sounding grove: + Nor less the Greeks, descending on the shore, + Hew'd the green forests, and the bodies bore. + And now from forth the chambers of the main, + To shed his sacred light on earth again, + Arose the golden chariot of the day, + And tipp'd the mountains with a purple ray. + In mingled throngs the Greek and Trojan train + Through heaps of carnage search'd the mournful plain. + Scarce could the friend his slaughter'd friend explore, + With dust dishonour'd, and deformed with gore. + The wounds they wash'd, their pious tears they shed, + And, laid along their cars, deplored the dead. + Sage Priam check'd their grief: with silent haste + The bodies decent on the piles were placed: + With melting hearts the cold remains they burn'd, + And, sadly slow, to sacred Troy return'd. + Nor less the Greeks their pious sorrows shed, + And decent on the pile dispose the dead; + The cold remains consume with equal care; + And slowly, sadly, to their fleet repair. + Now, ere the morn had streak'd with reddening light + The doubtful confines of the day and night, + About the dying flames the Greeks appear'd, + And round the pile a general tomb they rear'd. + Then, to secure the camp and naval powers, + They raised embattled walls with lofty towers:(186) + From space to space were ample gates around, + For passing chariots, and a trench profound + Of large extent; and deep in earth below, + Strong piles infix'd stood adverse to the foe. + + So toil'd the Greeks: meanwhile the gods above, + In shining circle round their father Jove, + Amazed beheld the wondrous works of man: + Then he, whose trident shakes the earth, began: + + "What mortals henceforth shall our power adore, + Our fanes frequent, our oracles implore, + If the proud Grecians thus successful boast + Their rising bulwarks on the sea-beat coast? + See the long walls extending to the main, + No god consulted, and no victim slain! + Their fame shall fill the world's remotest ends, + Wide as the morn her golden beam extends; + While old Laomedon's divine abodes, + Those radiant structures raised by labouring gods, + Shall, razed and lost, in long oblivion sleep." + Thus spoke the hoary monarch of the deep. + + The almighty Thunderer with a frown replies, + That clouds the world, and blackens half the skies: + "Strong god of ocean! thou, whose rage can make + The solid earth's eternal basis shake! + What cause of fear from mortal works could move(187) + The meanest subject of our realms above? + Where'er the sun's refulgent rays are cast, + Thy power is honour'd, and thy fame shall last. + But yon proud work no future age shall view, + No trace remain where once the glory grew. + The sapp'd foundations by thy force shall fall, + And, whelm'd beneath the waves, drop the huge wall: + Vast drifts of sand shall change the former shore: + The ruin vanish'd, and the name no more." + + Thus they in heaven: while, o'er the Grecian train, + The rolling sun descending to the main + Beheld the finish'd work. Their bulls they slew; + Back from the tents the savoury vapour flew. + And now the fleet, arrived from Lemnos' strands, + With Bacchus' blessings cheered the generous bands. + Of fragrant wines the rich Eunaeus sent + A thousant measures to the royal tent. + (Eunaeus, whom Hypsipyle of yore + To Jason, shepherd of his people, bore,) + The rest they purchased at their proper cost, + And well the plenteous freight supplied the host: + Each, in exchange, proportion'd treasures gave;(188) + Some, brass or iron; some, an ox, or slave. + All night they feast, the Greek and Trojan powers: + Those on the fields, and these within their towers. + But Jove averse the signs of wrath display'd, + And shot red lightnings through the gloomy shade: + Humbled they stood; pale horror seized on all, + While the deep thunder shook the aerial hall. + Each pour'd to Jove before the bowl was crown'd; + And large libations drench'd the thirsty ground: + Then late, refresh'd with sleep from toils of fight, + Enjoy'd the balmy blessings of the night. + + [Illustration: GREEK AMPHORA--WINE VESSELS.] + + GREEK AMPHORA--WINE VESSELS. + + + + + +BOOK VIII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE SECOND BATTLE, AND THE DISTRESS OF THE GREEKS. + +Jupiter assembles a council of the deities, and threatens them with the +pains of Tartarus if they assist either side: Minerva only obtains of him +that she may direct the Greeks by her counsels.(189) his balances the +fates of both, and affrights the Greeks with his thunders and lightnings. +Nestor alone continues in the field in great danger: Diomed relieves him; +whose exploits, and those of Hector, are excellently described. Juno +endeavours to animate Neptune to the assistance of the Greeks, but in +vain. The acts of Teucer, who is at length wounded by Hector, and carried +off. Juno and Minerva prepare to aid the Grecians, but are restrained by +Iris, sent from Jupiter. The night puts an end to the battle. Hector +continues in the field, (the Greeks being driven to their fortifications +before the ships,) and gives orders to keep the watch all night in the +camp, to prevent the enemy from re-embarking and escaping by flight. They +kindle fires through all the fields, and pass the night under arms. + +The time of seven and twenty days is employed from the opening of the poem +to the end of this book. The scene here (except of the celestial machines) +lies in the field towards the seashore. + + Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn, + Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn; + When Jove convened the senate of the skies, + Where high Olympus' cloudy tops arise, + The sire of gods his awful silence broke; + The heavens attentive trembled as he spoke: + + "Celestial states! immortal gods! give ear, + Hear our decree, and reverence what ye hear; + The fix'd decree which not all heaven can move; + Thou, fate! fulfil it! and, ye powers, approve! + What god but enters yon forbidden field, + Who yields assistance, or but wills to yield, + Back to the skies with shame he shall be driven, + Gash'd with dishonest wounds, the scorn of heaven; + Or far, oh far, from steep Olympus thrown, + Low in the dark Tartarean gulf shall groan, + With burning chains fix'd to the brazen floors, + And lock'd by hell's inexorable doors; + As deep beneath the infernal centre hurl'd,(190) + As from that centre to the ethereal world. + Let him who tempts me, dread those dire abodes: + And know, the Almighty is the god of gods. + League all your forces, then, ye powers above, + Join all, and try the omnipotence of Jove. + Let down our golden everlasting chain(191) + Whose strong embrace holds heaven, and earth, and main + Strive all, of mortal and immortal birth, + To drag, by this, the Thunderer down to earth + Ye strive in vain! if I but stretch this hand, + I heave the gods, the ocean, and the land; + I fix the chain to great Olympus' height, + And the vast world hangs trembling in my sight! + For such I reign, unbounded and above; + And such are men, and gods, compared to Jove." + + The all-mighty spoke, nor durst the powers reply: + A reverend horror silenced all the sky; + Trembling they stood before their sovereign's look; + At length his best-beloved, the power of wisdom, spoke: + + "O first and greatest! God, by gods adored + We own thy might, our father and our lord! + But, ah! permit to pity human state: + If not to help, at least lament their fate. + From fields forbidden we submiss refrain, + With arms unaiding mourn our Argives slain; + Yet grant my counsels still their breasts may move, + Or all must perish in the wrath of Jove." + + The cloud-compelling god her suit approved, + And smiled superior on his best beloved; + Then call'd his coursers, and his chariot took; + The stedfast firmament beneath them shook: + Rapt by the ethereal steeds the chariot roll'd; + Brass were their hoofs, their curling manes of gold: + Of heaven's undrossy gold the gods array, + Refulgent, flash'd intolerable day. + High on the throne he shines: his coursers fly + Between the extended earth and starry sky. + But when to Ida's topmost height he came, + (Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage game,) + Where o'er her pointed summits proudly raised, + His fane breathed odours, and his altar blazed: + There, from his radiant car, the sacred sire + Of gods and men released the steeds of fire: + Blue ambient mists the immortal steeds embraced; + High on the cloudy point his seat he placed; + Thence his broad eye the subject world surveys, + The town, and tents, and navigable seas. + + Now had the Grecians snatch'd a short repast, + And buckled on their shining arms with haste. + Troy roused as soon; for on this dreadful day + The fate of fathers, wives, and infants lay. + The gates unfolding pour forth all their train; + Squadrons on squadrons cloud the dusky plain: + Men, steeds, and chariots shake the trembling ground, + The tumult thickens, and the skies resound; + And now with shouts the shocking armies closed, + To lances lances, shields to shields opposed, + Host against host with shadowy legends drew, + The sounding darts in iron tempests flew; + Victors and vanquish'd join promiscuous cries, + Triumphant shouts and dying groans arise; + With streaming blood the slippery fields are dyed, + And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide. + Long as the morning beams, increasing bright, + O'er heaven's clear azure spread the sacred light, + Commutual death the fate of war confounds, + Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds. + But when the sun the height of heaven ascends, + The sire of gods his golden scales suspends,(192) + With equal hand: in these explored the fate + Of Greece and Troy, and poised the mighty weight: + Press'd with its load, the Grecian balance lies + Low sunk on earth, the Trojan strikes the skies. + Then Jove from Ida's top his horrors spreads; + The clouds burst dreadful o'er the Grecian heads; + Thick lightnings flash; the muttering thunder rolls; + Their strength he withers, and unmans their souls. + Before his wrath the trembling hosts retire; + The gods in terrors, and the skies on fire. + Nor great Idomeneus that sight could bear, + Nor each stern Ajax, thunderbolts of war: + Nor he, the king of war, the alarm sustain'd + Nestor alone, amidst the storm remain'd. + Unwilling he remain'd, for Paris' dart + Had pierced his courser in a mortal part; + Fix'd in the forehead, where the springing man + Curl'd o'er the brow, it stung him to the brain; + Mad with his anguish, he begins to rear, + Paw with his hoofs aloft, and lash the air. + Scarce had his falchion cut the reins, and freed + The encumber'd chariot from the dying steed, + When dreadful Hector, thundering through the war, + Pour'd to the tumult on his whirling car. + That day had stretch'd beneath his matchless hand + The hoary monarch of the Pylian band, + But Diomed beheld; from forth the crowd + He rush'd, and on Ulysses call'd aloud: + + "Whither, oh whither does Ulysses run? + Oh, flight unworthy great Laertes' son! + Mix'd with the vulgar shall thy fate be found, + Pierced in the back, a vile, dishonest wound? + Oh turn and save from Hector's direful rage + The glory of the Greeks, the Pylian sage." + His fruitless words are lost unheard in air, + Ulysses seeks the ships, and shelters there. + But bold Tydides to the rescue goes, + A single warrior midst a host of foes; + Before the coursers with a sudden spring + He leap'd, and anxious thus bespoke the king: + + "Great perils, father! wait the unequal fight; + These younger champions will oppress thy might. + Thy veins no more with ancient vigour glow, + Weak is thy servant, and thy coursers slow. + Then haste, ascend my seat, and from the car + Observe the steeds of Tros, renown'd in war. + Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chase, + To dare the fight, or urge the rapid race: + These late obey'd AEneas' guiding rein; + Leave thou thy chariot to our faithful train; + With these against yon Trojans will we go, + Nor shall great Hector want an equal foe; + Fierce as he is, even he may learn to fear + The thirsty fury of my flying spear." + + Thus said the chief; and Nestor, skill'd in war, + Approves his counsel, and ascends the car: + The steeds he left, their trusty servants hold; + Eurymedon, and Sthenelus the bold: + The reverend charioteer directs the course, + And strains his aged arm to lash the horse. + Hector they face; unknowing how to fear, + Fierce he drove on; Tydides whirl'd his spear. + The spear with erring haste mistook its way, + But plunged in Eniopeus' bosom lay. + His opening hand in death forsakes the rein; + The steeds fly back: he falls, and spurns the plain. + Great Hector sorrows for his servant kill'd, + Yet unrevenged permits to press the field; + Till, to supply his place and rule the car, + Rose Archeptolemus, the fierce in war. + And now had death and horror cover'd all;(193) + Like timorous flocks the Trojans in their wall + Inclosed had bled: but Jove with awful sound + Roll'd the big thunder o'er the vast profound: + Full in Tydides' face the lightning flew; + The ground before him flamed with sulphur blue; + The quivering steeds fell prostrate at the sight; + And Nestor's trembling hand confess'd his fright: + He dropp'd the reins: and, shook with sacred dread, + Thus, turning, warn'd the intrepid Diomed: + + "O chief! too daring in thy friend's defence + Retire advised, and urge the chariot hence. + This day, averse, the sovereign of the skies + Assists great Hector, and our palm denies. + Some other sun may see the happier hour, + When Greece shall conquer by his heavenly power. + 'Tis not in man his fix'd decree to move: + The great will glory to submit to Jove." + + "O reverend prince! (Tydides thus replies) + Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise. + But ah, what grief! should haughty Hector boast + I fled inglorious to the guarded coast. + Before that dire disgrace shall blast my fame, + O'erwhelm me, earth; and hide a warrior's shame!" + To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied:(194) + "Gods! can thy courage fear the Phrygian's pride? + Hector may vaunt, but who shall heed the boast? + Not those who felt thy arm, the Dardan host, + Nor Troy, yet bleeding in her heroes lost; + Not even a Phrygian dame, who dreads the sword + That laid in dust her loved, lamented lord." + He said, and, hasty, o'er the gasping throng + Drives the swift steeds: the chariot smokes along; + The shouts of Trojans thicken in the wind; + The storm of hissing javelins pours behind. + Then with a voice that shakes the solid skies, + Pleased, Hector braves the warrior as he flies. + "Go, mighty hero! graced above the rest + In seats of council and the sumptuous feast: + Now hope no more those honours from thy train; + Go less than woman, in the form of man! + To scale our walls, to wrap our towers in flames, + To lead in exile the fair Phrygian dames, + Thy once proud hopes, presumptuous prince! are fled; + This arm shall reach thy heart, and stretch thee dead." + + Now fears dissuade him, and now hopes invite. + To stop his coursers, and to stand the fight; + Thrice turn'd the chief, and thrice imperial Jove + On Ida's summits thunder'd from above. + Great Hector heard; he saw the flashing light, + (The sign of conquest,) and thus urged the fight: + + "Hear, every Trojan, Lycian, Dardan band, + All famed in war, and dreadful hand to hand. + Be mindful of the wreaths your arms have won, + Your great forefathers' glories, and your own. + Heard ye the voice of Jove? Success and fame + Await on Troy, on Greece eternal shame. + In vain they skulk behind their boasted wall, + Weak bulwarks; destined by this arm to fall. + High o'er their slighted trench our steeds shall bound, + And pass victorious o'er the levell'd mound. + Soon as before yon hollow ships we stand, + Fight each with flames, and toss the blazing brand; + Till, their proud navy wrapt in smoke and fires, + All Greece, encompass'd, in one blaze expires." + + Furious he said; then bending o'er the yoke, + Encouraged his proud steeds, while thus he spoke: + + "Now, Xanthus, AEthon, Lampus, urge the chase, + And thou, Podargus! prove thy generous race; + Be fleet, be fearless, this important day, + And all your master's well-spent care repay. + For this, high-fed, in plenteous stalls ye stand, + Served with pure wheat, and by a princess' hand; + For this my spouse, of great Aetion's line, + So oft has steep'd the strengthening grain in wine. + Now swift pursue, now thunder uncontroll'd: + Give me to seize rich Nestor's shield of gold; + From Tydeus' shoulders strip the costly load, + Vulcanian arms, the labour of a god: + These if we gain, then victory, ye powers! + This night, this glorious night, the fleet is ours!" + + That heard, deep anguish stung Saturnia's soul; + She shook her throne, that shook the starry pole: + And thus to Neptune: "Thou, whose force can make + The stedfast earth from her foundations shake, + Seest thou the Greeks by fates unjust oppress'd, + Nor swells thy heart in that immortal breast? + Yet AEgae, Helice, thy power obey,(195) + And gifts unceasing on thine altars lay. + Would all the deities of Greece combine, + In vain the gloomy Thunderer might repine: + Sole should he sit, with scarce a god to friend, + And see his Trojans to the shades descend: + Such be the scene from his Idaean bower; + Ungrateful prospect to the sullen power!" + + Neptune with wrath rejects the rash design: + "What rage, what madness, furious queen! is thine? + I war not with the highest. All above + Submit and tremble at the hand of Jove." + + Now godlike Hector, to whose matchless might + Jove gave the glory of the destined fight, + Squadrons on squadrons drives, and fills the fields + With close-ranged chariots, and with thicken'd shields. + Where the deep trench in length extended lay, + Compacted troops stand wedged in firm array, + A dreadful front! they shake the brands, and threat + With long-destroying flames the hostile fleet. + The king of men, by Juno's self inspired, + Toil'd through the tents, and all his army fired. + Swift as he moved, he lifted in his hand + His purple robe, bright ensign of command. + High on the midmost bark the king appear'd: + There, from Ulysses' deck, his voice was heard: + To Ajax and Achilles reach'd the sound, + Whose distant ships the guarded navy bound. + "O Argives! shame of human race! (he cried: + The hollow vessels to his voice replied,) + Where now are all your glorious boasts of yore, + Your hasty triumphs on the Lemnian shore? + Each fearless hero dares a hundred foes, + While the feast lasts, and while the goblet flows; + But who to meet one martial man is found, + When the fight rages, and the flames surround? + O mighty Jove! O sire of the distress'd! + Was ever king like me, like me oppress'd? + With power immense, with justice arm'd in vain; + My glory ravish'd, and my people slain! + To thee my vows were breathed from every shore; + What altar smoked not with our victims' gore? + With fat of bulls I fed the constant flame, + And ask'd destruction to the Trojan name. + Now, gracious god! far humbler our demand; + Give these at least to 'scape from Hector's hand, + And save the relics of the Grecian land!" + + Thus pray'd the king, and heaven's great father heard + His vows, in bitterness of soul preferr'd: + The wrath appeased, by happy signs declares, + And gives the people to their monarch's prayers. + His eagle, sacred bird of heaven! he sent, + A fawn his talons truss'd, (divine portent!) + High o'er the wondering hosts he soar'd above, + Who paid their vows to Panomphaean Jove; + Then let the prey before his altar fall; + The Greeks beheld, and transport seized on all: + Encouraged by the sign, the troops revive, + And fierce on Troy with doubled fury drive. + Tydides first, of all the Grecian force, + O'er the broad ditch impell'd his foaming horse, + Pierced the deep ranks, their strongest battle tore, + And dyed his javelin red with Trojan gore. + Young Agelaus (Phradmon was his sire) + With flying coursers shunn'd his dreadful ire; + Struck through the back, the Phrygian fell oppress'd; + The dart drove on, and issued at his breast: + Headlong he quits the car: his arms resound; + His ponderous buckler thunders on the ground. + Forth rush a tide of Greeks, the passage freed; + The Atridae first, the Ajaces next succeed: + Meriones, like Mars in arms renown'd, + And godlike Idomen, now passed the mound; + Evaemon's son next issues to the foe, + And last young Teucer with his bended bow. + Secure behind the Telamonian shield + The skilful archer wide survey'd the field, + With every shaft some hostile victim slew, + Then close beneath the sevenfold orb withdrew: + The conscious infant so, when fear alarms, + Retires for safety to the mother's arms. + Thus Ajax guards his brother in the field, + Moves as he moves, and turns the shining shield. + Who first by Teucer's mortal arrows bled? + Orsilochus; then fell Ormenus dead: + The godlike Lycophon next press'd the plain, + With Chromius, Daetor, Ophelestes slain: + Bold Hamopaon breathless sunk to ground; + The bloody pile great Melanippus crown'd. + Heaps fell on heaps, sad trophies of his art, + A Trojan ghost attending every dart. + Great Agamemnon views with joyful eye + The ranks grow thinner as his arrows fly: + "O youth forever dear! (the monarch cried) + Thus, always thus, thy early worth be tried; + Thy brave example shall retrieve our host, + Thy country's saviour, and thy father's boast! + Sprung from an alien's bed thy sire to grace, + The vigorous offspring of a stolen embrace: + Proud of his boy, he own'd the generous flame, + And the brave son repays his cares with fame. + Now hear a monarch's vow: If heaven's high powers + Give me to raze Troy's long-defended towers; + Whatever treasures Greece for me design, + The next rich honorary gift be thine: + Some golden tripod, or distinguished car, + With coursers dreadful in the ranks of war: + Or some fair captive, whom thy eyes approve, + Shall recompense the warrior's toils with love." + + To this the chief: "With praise the rest inspire, + Nor urge a soul already fill'd with fire. + What strength I have, be now in battle tried, + Till every shaft in Phrygian blood be dyed. + Since rallying from our wall we forced the foe, + Still aim'd at Hector have I bent my bow: + Eight forky arrows from this hand have fled, + And eight bold heroes by their points lie dead: + But sure some god denies me to destroy + This fury of the field, this dog of Troy." + + He said, and twang'd the string. The weapon flies + At Hector's breast, and sings along the skies: + He miss'd the mark; but pierced Gorgythio's heart, + And drench'd in royal blood the thirsty dart. + (Fair Castianira, nymph of form divine, + This offspring added to king Priam's line.) + As full-blown poppies, overcharged with rain,(196) + Decline the head, and drooping kiss the plain; + So sinks the youth: his beauteous head, depress'd + Beneath his helmet, drops upon his breast. + Another shaft the raging archer drew, + That other shaft with erring fury flew, + (From Hector, Phoebus turn'd the flying wound,) + Yet fell not dry or guiltless to the ground: + Thy breast, brave Archeptolemus! it tore, + And dipp'd its feathers in no vulgar gore. + Headlong he falls: his sudden fall alarms + The steeds, that startle at his sounding arms. + Hector with grief his charioteer beheld + All pale and breathless on the sanguine field: + Then bids Cebriones direct the rein, + Quits his bright car, and issues on the plain. + Dreadful he shouts: from earth a stone he took, + And rush'd on Teucer with the lifted rock. + The youth already strain'd the forceful yew; + The shaft already to his shoulder drew; + The feather in his hand, just wing'd for flight, + Touch'd where the neck and hollow chest unite; + There, where the juncture knits the channel bone, + The furious chief discharged the craggy stone: + The bow-string burst beneath the ponderous blow, + And his numb'd hand dismiss'd his useless bow. + He fell: but Ajax his broad shield display'd, + And screen'd his brother with the mighty shade; + Till great Alaster, and Mecistheus, bore + The batter'd archer groaning to the shore. + + Troy yet found grace before the Olympian sire, + He arm'd their hands, and fill'd their breasts with fire. + The Greeks repulsed, retreat behind their wall, + Or in the trench on heaps confusedly fall. + First of the foe, great Hector march'd along, + With terror clothed, and more than mortal strong. + As the bold hound, that gives the lion chase, + With beating bosom, and with eager pace, + Hangs on his haunch, or fastens on his heels, + Guards as he turns, and circles as he wheels; + Thus oft the Grecians turn'd, but still they flew; + Thus following, Hector still the hindmost slew. + When flying they had pass'd the trench profound, + And many a chief lay gasping on the ground; + Before the ships a desperate stand they made, + And fired the troops, and called the gods to aid. + Fierce on his rattling chariot Hector came: + His eyes like Gorgon shot a sanguine flame + That wither'd all their host: like Mars he stood: + Dire as the monster, dreadful as the god! + Their strong distress the wife of Jove survey'd; + Then pensive thus, to war's triumphant maid: + + "O daughter of that god, whose arm can wield + The avenging bolt, and shake the sable shield! + Now, in this moment of her last despair, + Shall wretched Greece no more confess our care, + Condemn'd to suffer the full force of fate, + And drain the dregs of heaven's relentless hate? + Gods! shall one raging hand thus level all? + What numbers fell! what numbers yet shall fall! + What power divine shall Hector's wrath assuage? + Still swells the slaughter, and still grows the rage!" + + So spake the imperial regent of the skies; + To whom the goddess with the azure eyes: + + "Long since had Hector stain'd these fields with gore, + Stretch'd by some Argive on his native shore: + But he above, the sire of heaven, withstands, + Mocks our attempts, and slights our just demands; + The stubborn god, inflexible and hard, + Forgets my service and deserved reward: + Saved I, for this, his favourite son distress'd, + By stern Eurystheus with long labours press'd? + He begg'd, with tears he begg'd, in deep dismay; + I shot from heaven, and gave his arm the day. + Oh had my wisdom known this dire event, + When to grim Pluto's gloomy gates he went; + The triple dog had never felt his chain, + Nor Styx been cross'd, nor hell explored in vain. + Averse to me of all his heaven of gods, + At Thetis' suit the partial Thunderer nods; + To grace her gloomy, fierce, resenting son, + My hopes are frustrate, and my Greeks undone. + Some future day, perhaps, he may be moved + To call his blue-eyed maid his best beloved. + Haste, launch thy chariot, through yon ranks to ride; + Myself will arm, and thunder at thy side. + Then, goddess! say, shall Hector glory then? + (That terror of the Greeks, that man of men) + When Juno's self, and Pallas shall appear, + All dreadful in the crimson walks of war! + What mighty Trojan then, on yonder shore, + Expiring, pale, and terrible no more, + Shall feast the fowls, and glut the dogs with gore?" + + She ceased, and Juno rein'd the steeds with care: + (Heaven's awful empress, Saturn's other heir:) + Pallas, meanwhile, her various veil unbound, + With flowers adorn'd, with art immortal crown'd; + The radiant robe her sacred fingers wove + Floats in rich waves, and spreads the court of Jove. + Her father's arms her mighty limbs invest, + His cuirass blazes on her ample breast. + The vigorous power the trembling car ascends: + Shook by her arm, the massy javelin bends: + Huge, ponderous, strong! that when her fury burns + Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns. + + Saturnia lends the lash; the coursers fly; + Smooth glides the chariot through the liquid sky. + Heaven's gates spontaneous open to the powers, + Heaven's golden gates, kept by the winged Hours. + Commission'd in alternate watch they stand, + The sun's bright portals and the skies command; + Close, or unfold, the eternal gates of day + Bar heaven with clouds, or roll those clouds away. + The sounding hinges ring, the clouds divide. + Prone down the steep of heaven their course they guide. + But Jove, incensed, from Ida's top survey'd, + And thus enjoin'd the many-colour'd maid. + + [Illustration: JUNO AND MINERVA GOING TO ASSIST THE GREEKS.] + + JUNO AND MINERVA GOING TO ASSIST THE GREEKS. + + + "Thaumantia! mount the winds, and stop their car; + Against the highest who shall wage the war? + If furious yet they dare the vain debate, + Thus have I spoke, and what I speak is fate: + Their coursers crush'd beneath the wheels shall lie, + Their car in fragments, scatter'd o'er the sky: + My lightning these rebellious shall confound, + And hurl them flaming, headlong, to the ground, + Condemn'd for ten revolving years to weep + The wounds impress'd by burning thunder deep. + So shall Minerva learn to fear our ire, + Nor dare to combat hers and nature's sire. + For Juno, headstrong and imperious still, + She claims some title to transgress our will." + + Swift as the wind, the various-colour'd maid + From Ida's top her golden wings display'd; + To great Olympus' shining gate she flies, + There meets the chariot rushing down the skies, + Restrains their progress from the bright abodes, + And speaks the mandate of the sire of gods. + + "What frenzy goddesses! what rage can move + Celestial minds to tempt the wrath of Jove? + Desist, obedient to his high command: + This is his word; and know his word shall stand: + His lightning your rebellion shall confound, + And hurl ye headlong, flaming, to the ground; + Your horses crush'd beneath the wheels shall lie, + Your car in fragments scatter'd o'er the sky; + Yourselves condemn'd ten rolling years to weep + The wounds impress'd by burning thunder deep. + So shall Minerva learn to fear his ire, + Nor dare to combat hers and nature's sire. + For Juno, headstrong and imperious still, + She claims some title to transgress his will: + But thee, what desperate insolence has driven + To lift thy lance against the king of heaven?" + + Then, mounting on the pinions of the wind, + She flew; and Juno thus her rage resign'd: + + "O daughter of that god, whose arm can wield + The avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield + No more let beings of superior birth + Contend with Jove for this low race of earth; + Triumphant now, now miserably slain, + They breathe or perish as the fates ordain: + But Jove's high counsels full effect shall find; + And, ever constant, ever rule mankind." + + She spoke, and backward turn'd her steeds of light, + Adorn'd with manes of gold, and heavenly bright. + The Hours unloosed them, panting as they stood, + And heap'd their mangers with ambrosial food. + There tied, they rest in high celestial stalls; + The chariot propp'd against the crystal walls, + The pensive goddesses, abash'd, controll'd, + Mix with the gods, and fill their seats of gold. + + [Illustration: THE HOURS TAKING THE HORSES FROM JUNO'S CAR.] + + THE HOURS TAKING THE HORSES FROM JUNO'S CAR. + + + And now the Thunderer meditates his flight + From Ida's summits to the Olympian height. + Swifter than thought, the wheels instinctive fly, + Flame through the vast of air, and reach the sky. + 'Twas Neptune's charge his coursers to unbrace, + And fix the car on its immortal base; + There stood the chariot, beaming forth its rays, + Till with a snowy veil he screen'd the blaze. + He, whose all-conscious eyes the world behold, + The eternal Thunderer sat, enthroned in gold. + High heaven the footstool of his feet he makes, + And wide beneath him all Olympus shakes. + Trembling afar the offending powers appear'd, + Confused and silent, for his frown they fear'd. + He saw their soul, and thus his word imparts: + "Pallas and Juno! say, why heave your hearts? + Soon was your battle o'er: proud Troy retired + Before your face, and in your wrath expired. + But know, whoe'er almighty power withstand! + Unmatch'd our force, unconquer'd is our hand: + Who shall the sovereign of the skies control? + Not all the gods that crown the starry pole. + Your hearts shall tremble, if our arms we take, + And each immortal nerve with horror shake. + For thus I speak, and what I speak shall stand; + What power soe'er provokes our lifted hand, + On this our hill no more shall hold his place; + Cut off, and exiled from the ethereal race." + + Juno and Pallas grieving hear the doom, + But feast their souls on Ilion's woes to come. + Though secret anger swell'd Minerva's breast, + The prudent goddess yet her wrath repress'd; + But Juno, impotent of rage, replies: + "What hast thou said, O tyrant of the skies! + Strength and omnipotence invest thy throne; + 'Tis thine to punish; ours to grieve alone. + For Greece we grieve, abandon'd by her fate + To drink the dregs of thy unmeasured hate. + From fields forbidden we submiss refrain, + With arms unaiding see our Argives slain; + Yet grant our counsels still their breasts may move, + Lest all should perish in the rage of Jove." + + The goddess thus; and thus the god replies, + Who swells the clouds, and blackens all the skies: + + "The morning sun, awaked by loud alarms, + Shall see the almighty Thunderer in arms. + What heaps of Argives then shall load the plain, + Those radiant eyes shall view, and view in vain. + Nor shall great Hector cease the rage of fight, + The navy flaming, and thy Greeks in flight, + Even till the day when certain fates ordain + That stern Achilles (his Patroclus slain) + Shall rise in vengeance, and lay waste the plain. + For such is fate, nor canst thou turn its course + With all thy rage, with all thy rebel force. + Fly, if thy wilt, to earth's remotest bound, + Where on her utmost verge the seas resound; + Where cursed Iapetus and Saturn dwell, + Fast by the brink, within the streams of hell; + No sun e'er gilds the gloomy horrors there; + No cheerful gales refresh the lazy air: + There arm once more the bold Titanian band; + And arm in vain; for what I will, shall stand." + + Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of light, + And drew behind the cloudy veil of night: + The conquering Trojans mourn his beams decay'd; + The Greeks rejoicing bless the friendly shade. + + The victors keep the field; and Hector calls + A martial council near the navy walls; + These to Scamander's bank apart he led, + Where thinly scatter'd lay the heaps of dead. + The assembled chiefs, descending on the ground, + Attend his order, and their prince surround. + A massy spear he bore of mighty strength, + Of full ten cubits was the lance's length; + The point was brass, refulgent to behold, + Fix'd to the wood with circling rings of gold: + The noble Hector on his lance reclined, + And, bending forward, thus reveal'd his mind: + + "Ye valiant Trojans, with attention hear! + Ye Dardan bands, and generous aids, give ear! + This day, we hoped, would wrap in conquering flame + Greece with her ships, and crown our toils with fame. + But darkness now, to save the cowards, falls, + And guards them trembling in their wooden walls. + Obey the night, and use her peaceful hours + Our steeds to forage, and refresh our powers. + Straight from the town be sheep and oxen sought, + And strengthening bread and generous wine be brought + Wide o'er the field, high blazing to the sky, + Let numerous fires the absent sun supply, + The flaming piles with plenteous fuel raise, + Till the bright morn her purple beam displays; + Lest, in the silence and the shades of night, + Greece on her sable ships attempt her flight. + Not unmolested let the wretches gain + Their lofty decks, or safely cleave the main; + Some hostile wound let every dart bestow, + Some lasting token of the Phrygian foe, + Wounds, that long hence may ask their spouses' care. + And warn their children from a Trojan war. + Now through the circuit of our Ilion wall, + Let sacred heralds sound the solemn call; + To bid the sires with hoary honours crown'd, + And beardless youths, our battlements surround. + Firm be the guard, while distant lie our powers, + And let the matrons hang with lights the towers; + Lest, under covert of the midnight shade, + The insidious foe the naked town invade. + Suffice, to-night, these orders to obey; + A nobler charge shall rouse the dawning day. + The gods, I trust, shall give to Hector's hand + From these detested foes to free the land, + Who plough'd, with fates averse, the watery way: + For Trojan vultures a predestined prey. + Our common safety must be now the care; + But soon as morning paints the fields of air, + Sheathed in bright arms let every troop engage, + And the fired fleet behold the battle rage. + Then, then shall Hector and Tydides prove + Whose fates are heaviest in the scales of Jove. + To-morrow's light (O haste the glorious morn!) + Shall see his bloody spoils in triumph borne, + With this keen javelin shall his breast be gored, + And prostrate heroes bleed around their lord. + Certain as this, oh! might my days endure, + From age inglorious, and black death secure; + So might my life and glory know no bound, + Like Pallas worshipp'd, like the sun renown'd! + As the next dawn, the last they shall enjoy, + Shall crush the Greeks, and end the woes of Troy." + + The leader spoke. From all his host around + Shouts of applause along the shores resound. + Each from the yoke the smoking steeds untied, + And fix'd their headstalls to his chariot-side. + Fat sheep and oxen from the town are led, + With generous wine, and all-sustaining bread, + Full hecatombs lay burning on the shore: + The winds to heaven the curling vapours bore. + Ungrateful offering to the immortal powers!(197) + Whose wrath hung heavy o'er the Trojan towers: + Nor Priam nor his sons obtain'd their grace; + Proud Troy they hated, and her guilty race. + + The troops exulting sat in order round, + And beaming fires illumined all the ground. + As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,(198) + O'er heaven's pure azure spreads her sacred light, + When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, + And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene, + Around her throne the vivid planets roll, + And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole, + O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, + And tip with silver every mountain's head: + Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, + A flood of glory bursts from all the skies: + The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, + Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. + So many flames before proud Ilion blaze, + And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays. + The long reflections of the distant fires + Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires. + A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild, + And shoot a shady lustre o'er the field. + Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend, + Whose umber'd arms, by fits, thick flashes send, + Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of corn, + And ardent warriors wait the rising morn. + + [Illustration: THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES.] + + THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES. + + + + + +BOOK IX. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES. + +Agamemnon, after the last day's defeat, proposes to the Greeks to quit the +siege, and return to their country. Diomed opposes this, and Nestor +seconds him, praising his wisdom and resolution. He orders the guard to be +strengthened, and a council summoned to deliberate what measures are to be +followed in this emergency. Agamemnon pursues this advice, and Nestor +further prevails upon him to send ambassadors to Achilles, in order to +move him to a reconciliation. Ulysses and Ajax are made choice of, who are +accompanied by old Phoenix. They make, each of them, very moving and +pressing speeches, but are rejected with roughness by Achilles, who +notwithstanding retains Phoenix in his tent. The ambassadors return +unsuccessfully to the camp, and the troops betake themselves to sleep. + +This book, and the next following, take up the space of one night, which +is the twenty-seventh from the beginning of the poem. The scene lies on +the sea-shore, the station of the Grecian ships. + + Thus joyful Troy maintain'd the watch of night; + While fear, pale comrade of inglorious flight,(199) + And heaven-bred horror, on the Grecian part, + Sat on each face, and sadden'd every heart. + As from its cloudy dungeon issuing forth, + A double tempest of the west and north + Swells o'er the sea, from Thracia's frozen shore, + Heaps waves on waves, and bids the AEgean roar: + This way and that the boiling deeps are toss'd: + Such various passions urged the troubled host, + Great Agamemnon grieved above the rest; + Superior sorrows swell'd his royal breast; + Himself his orders to the heralds bears, + To bid to council all the Grecian peers, + But bid in whispers: these surround their chief, + In solemn sadness and majestic grief. + The king amidst the mournful circle rose: + Down his wan cheek a briny torrent flows. + So silent fountains, from a rock's tall head, + In sable streams soft-trickling waters shed. + With more than vulgar grief he stood oppress'd; + Words, mix'd with sighs, thus bursting from his breast: + + "Ye sons of Greece! partake your leader's care; + Fellows in arms and princes of the war! + Of partial Jove too justly we complain, + And heavenly oracles believed in vain. + A safe return was promised to our toils, + With conquest honour'd and enrich'd with spoils: + Now shameful flight alone can save the host; + Our wealth, our people, and our glory lost. + So Jove decrees, almighty lord of all! + Jove, at whose nod whole empires rise or fall, + Who shakes the feeble props of human trust, + And towers and armies humbles to the dust. + Haste then, for ever quit these fatal fields, + Haste to the joys our native country yields; + Spread all your canvas, all your oars employ, + Nor hope the fall of heaven-defended Troy." + + He said: deep silence held the Grecian band; + Silent, unmov'd in dire dismay they stand; + A pensive scene! till Tydeus' warlike son + Roll'd on the king his eyes, and thus begun: + "When kings advise us to renounce our fame, + First let him speak who first has suffer'd shame. + If I oppose thee, prince! thy wrath withhold, + The laws of council bid my tongue be bold. + Thou first, and thou alone, in fields of fight, + Durst brand my courage, and defame my might: + Nor from a friend the unkind reproach appear'd, + The Greeks stood witness, all our army heard. + The gods, O chief! from whom our honours spring, + The gods have made thee but by halves a king: + They gave thee sceptres, and a wide command; + They gave dominion o'er the seas and land; + The noblest power that might the world control + They gave thee not--a brave and virtuous soul. + Is this a general's voice, that would suggest + Fears like his own to every Grecian breast? + Confiding in our want of worth, he stands; + And if we fly, 'tis what our king commands. + Go thou, inglorious! from the embattled plain; + Ships thou hast store, and nearest to the main; + A noble care the Grecians shall employ, + To combat, conquer, and extirpate Troy. + Here Greece shall stay; or, if all Greece retire, + Myself shall stay, till Troy or I expire; + Myself, and Sthenelus, will fight for fame; + God bade us fight, and 'twas with God we came." + + He ceased; the Greeks loud acclamations raise, + And voice to voice resounds Tydides' praise. + Wise Nestor then his reverend figure rear'd; + He spoke: the host in still attention heard:(200) + + "O truly great! in whom the gods have join'd + Such strength of body with such force of mind: + In conduct, as in courage, you excel, + Still first to act what you advise so well. + These wholesome counsels which thy wisdom moves, + Applauding Greece with common voice approves. + Kings thou canst blame; a bold but prudent youth: + And blame even kings with praise, because with truth. + And yet those years that since thy birth have run + Would hardly style thee Nestor's youngest son. + Then let me add what yet remains behind, + A thought unfinish'd in that generous mind; + Age bids me speak! nor shall the advice I bring + Distaste the people, or offend the king: + + "Cursed is the man, and void of law and right, + Unworthy property, unworthy light, + Unfit for public rule, or private care, + That wretch, that monster, who delights in war; + Whose lust is murder, and whose horrid joy, + To tear his country, and his kind destroy! + This night, refresh and fortify thy train; + Between the trench and wall let guards remain: + Be that the duty of the young and bold; + But thou, O king, to council call the old; + Great is thy sway, and weighty are thy cares; + Thy high commands must spirit all our wars. + With Thracian wines recruit thy honour'd guests, + For happy counsels flow from sober feasts. + Wise, weighty counsels aid a state distress'd, + And such a monarch as can choose the best. + See what a blaze from hostile tents aspires, + How near our fleet approach the Trojan fires! + Who can, unmoved, behold the dreadful light? + What eye beholds them, and can close to-night? + This dreadful interval determines all; + To-morrow, Troy must flame, or Greece must fall." + + Thus spoke the hoary sage: the rest obey; + Swift through the gates the guards direct their way. + His son was first to pass the lofty mound, + The generous Thrasymed, in arms renown'd: + Next him, Ascalaphus, Ialmen, stood, + The double offspring of the warrior-god: + Deipyrus, Aphareus, Merion join, + And Lycomed of Creon's noble line. + Seven were the leaders of the nightly bands, + And each bold chief a hundred spears commands. + The fires they light, to short repasts they fall, + Some line the trench, and others man the wall. + + The king of men, on public counsels bent, + Convened the princes in his ample tent, + Each seized a portion of the kingly feast, + But stay'd his hand when thirst and hunger ceased. + Then Nestor spoke, for wisdom long approved, + And slowly rising, thus the council moved. + + "Monarch of nations! whose superior sway + Assembled states, and lords of earth obey, + The laws and sceptres to thy hand are given, + And millions own the care of thee and Heaven. + O king! the counsels of my age attend; + With thee my cares begin, with thee must end. + Thee, prince! it fits alike to speak and hear, + Pronounce with judgment, with regard give ear, + To see no wholesome motion be withstood, + And ratify the best for public good. + Nor, though a meaner give advice, repine, + But follow it, and make the wisdom thine. + Hear then a thought, not now conceived in haste, + At once my present judgment and my past. + When from Pelides' tent you forced the maid, + I first opposed, and faithful, durst dissuade; + But bold of soul, when headlong fury fired, + You wronged the man, by men and gods admired: + Now seek some means his fatal wrath to end, + With prayers to move him, or with gifts to bend." + + To whom the king. "With justice hast thou shown + A prince's faults, and I with reason own. + That happy man, whom Jove still honours most, + Is more than armies, and himself a host. + Bless'd in his love, this wondrous hero stands; + Heaven fights his war, and humbles all our bands. + Fain would my heart, which err'd through frantic rage, + The wrathful chief and angry gods assuage. + If gifts immense his mighty soul can bow,(201) + Hear, all ye Greeks, and witness what I vow. + Ten weighty talents of the purest gold, + And twice ten vases of refulgent mould: + Seven sacred tripods, whose unsullied frame + Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame; + Twelve steeds unmatch'd in fleetness and in force, + And still victorious in the dusty course; + (Rich were the man whose ample stores exceed + The prizes purchased by their winged speed;) + Seven lovely captives of the Lesbian line, + Skill'd in each art, unmatch'd in form divine, + The same I chose for more than vulgar charms, + When Lesbos sank beneath the hero's arms: + All these, to buy his friendship, shall be paid, + And join'd with these the long-contested maid; + With all her charms, Briseis I resign, + And solemn swear those charms were never mine; + Untouch'd she stay'd, uninjured she removes, + Pure from my arms, and guiltless of my loves,(202) + These instant shall be his; and if the powers + Give to our arms proud Ilion's hostile towers, + Then shall he store (when Greece the spoil divides) + With gold and brass his loaded navy's sides: + Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race + With copious love shall crown his warm embrace, + Such as himself will choose; who yield to none, + Or yield to Helen's heavenly charms alone. + Yet hear me further: when our wars are o'er, + If safe we land on Argos' fruitful shore, + There shall he live my son, our honours share, + And with Orestes' self divide my care. + Yet more--three daughters in my court are bred, + And each well worthy of a royal bed; + Laodice and Iphigenia fair,(203) + And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair; + Her let him choose whom most his eyes approve, + I ask no presents, no reward for love: + Myself will give the dower; so vast a store + As never father gave a child before. + Seven ample cities shall confess his sway, + Him Enope, and Pherae him obey, + Cardamyle with ample turrets crown'd, + And sacred Pedasus for vines renown'd; + AEpea fair, the pastures Hira yields, + And rich Antheia with her flowery fields:(204) + The whole extent to Pylos' sandy plain, + Along the verdant margin of the main + There heifers graze, and labouring oxen toil; + Bold are the men, and generous is the soil; + There shall he reign, with power and justice crown'd, + And rule the tributary realms around. + All this I give, his vengeance to control, + And sure all this may move his mighty soul. + Pluto, the grisly god, who never spares, + Who feels no mercy, and who hears no prayers, + Lives dark and dreadful in deep hell's abodes, + And mortals hate him, as the worst of gods + Great though he be, it fits him to obey, + Since more than his my years, and more my sway." + + [Illustration: PLUTO.] + + PLUTO. + + + The monarch thus. The reverend Nestor then: + "Great Agamemnon! glorious king of men! + Such are thy offers as a prince may take, + And such as fits a generous king to make. + Let chosen delegates this hour be sent + (Myself will name them) to Pelides' tent. + Let Phoenix lead, revered for hoary age, + Great Ajax next, and Ithacus the sage. + Yet more to sanctify the word you send, + Let Hodius and Eurybates attend. + Now pray to Jove to grant what Greece demands; + Pray in deep silence,(205) and with purest hands."(206) + + [Illustration: THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES.] + + THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES. + + + He said; and all approved. The heralds bring + The cleansing water from the living spring. + The youth with wine the sacred goblets crown'd, + And large libations drench'd the sands around. + The rite perform'd, the chiefs their thirst allay, + Then from the royal tent they take their way; + Wise Nestor turns on each his careful eye, + Forbids to offend, instructs them to apply; + Much he advised them all, Ulysses most, + To deprecate the chief, and save the host. + Through the still night they march, and hear the roar + Of murmuring billows on the sounding shore. + To Neptune, ruler of the seas profound, + Whose liquid arms the mighty globe surround, + They pour forth vows, their embassy to bless, + And calm the rage of stern AEacides. + And now, arrived, where on the sandy bay + The Myrmidonian tents and vessels lay; + Amused at ease, the godlike man they found, + Pleased with the solemn harp's harmonious sound. + (The well wrought harp from conquered Thebae came; + Of polish'd silver was its costly frame.) + With this he soothes his angry soul, and sings + The immortal deeds of heroes and of kings. + Patroclus only of the royal train, + Placed in his tent, attends the lofty strain: + Full opposite he sat, and listen'd long, + In silence waiting till he ceased the song. + Unseen the Grecian embassy proceeds + To his high tent; the great Ulysses leads. + Achilles starting, as the chiefs he spied, + Leap'd from his seat, and laid the harp aside. + With like surprise arose Menoetius' son: + Pelides grasp'd their hands, and thus begun: + + "Princes, all hail! whatever brought you here. + Or strong necessity, or urgent fear; + Welcome, though Greeks! for not as foes ye came; + To me more dear than all that bear the name." + + With that, the chiefs beneath his roof he led, + And placed in seats with purple carpets spread. + Then thus--"Patroclus, crown a larger bowl, + Mix purer wine, and open every soul. + Of all the warriors yonder host can send, + Thy friend most honours these, and these thy friend." + + He said: Patroclus o'er the blazing fire + Heaps in a brazen vase three chines entire: + The brazen vase Automedon sustains, + Which flesh of porker, sheep, and goat contains. + Achilles at the genial feast presides, + The parts transfixes, and with skill divides. + Meanwhile Patroclus sweats, the fire to raise; + The tent is brighten'd with the rising blaze: + Then, when the languid flames at length subside, + He strows a bed of glowing embers wide, + Above the coals the smoking fragments turns + And sprinkles sacred salt from lifted urns; + With bread the glittering canisters they load, + Which round the board Menoetius' son bestow'd; + Himself, opposed to Ulysses full in sight, + Each portion parts, and orders every rite. + The first fat offering to the immortals due, + Amidst the greedy flames Patroclus threw; + Then each, indulging in the social feast, + His thirst and hunger soberly repress'd. + That done, to Phoenix Ajax gave the sign: + Not unperceived; Ulysses crown'd with wine + The foaming bowl, and instant thus began, + His speech addressing to the godlike man. + + "Health to Achilles! happy are thy guests! + Not those more honour'd whom Atrides feasts: + Though generous plenty crown thy loaded boards, + That, Agamemnon's regal tent affords; + But greater cares sit heavy on our souls, + Nor eased by banquets or by flowing bowls. + What scenes of slaughter in yon fields appear! + The dead we mourn, and for the living fear; + Greece on the brink of fate all doubtful stands, + And owns no help but from thy saving hands: + Troy and her aids for ready vengeance call; + Their threatening tents already shade our wall: + Hear how with shouts their conquest they proclaim, + And point at every ship their vengeful flame! + For them the father of the gods declares, + Theirs are his omens, and his thunder theirs. + See, full of Jove, avenging Hector rise! + See! heaven and earth the raging chief defies; + What fury in his breast, what lightning in his eyes! + He waits but for the morn, to sink in flame + The ships, the Greeks, and all the Grecian name. + Heavens! how my country's woes distract my mind, + Lest Fate accomplish all his rage design'd! + And must we, gods! our heads inglorious lay + In Trojan dust, and this the fatal day? + Return, Achilles: oh return, though late, + To save thy Greeks, and stop the course of Fate; + If in that heart or grief or courage lies, + Rise to redeem; ah, yet to conquer, rise! + The day may come, when, all our warriors slain, + That heart shall melt, that courage rise in vain: + Regard in time, O prince divinely brave! + Those wholesome counsels which thy father gave. + When Peleus in his aged arms embraced + His parting son, these accents were his last: + + "'My child! with strength, with glory, and success, + Thy arms may Juno and Minerva bless! + Trust that to Heaven: but thou, thy cares engage + To calm thy passions, and subdue thy rage: + From gentler manners let thy glory grow, + And shun contention, the sure source of woe; + That young and old may in thy praise combine, + The virtues of humanity be thine--' + This now-despised advice thy father gave; + Ah! check thy anger; and be truly brave. + If thou wilt yield to great Atrides' prayers, + Gifts worthy thee his royal hand prepares; + If not--but hear me, while I number o'er + The proffer'd presents, an exhaustless store. + Ten weighty talents of the purest gold, + And twice ten vases of refulgent mould; + Seven sacred tripods, whose unsullied frame + Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame; + Twelve steeds unmatched in fleetness and in force, + And still victorious in the dusty course; + (Rich were the man, whose ample stores exceed + The prizes purchased by their winged speed;) + Seven lovely captives of the Lesbian line, + Skill'd in each art, unmatch'd in form divine, + The same he chose for more than vulgar charms, + When Lesbos sank beneath thy conquering arms. + All these, to buy thy friendship shall be paid, + And, join'd with these, the long-contested maid; + With all her charms, Briseis he'll resign, + And solemn swear those charms were only thine; + Untouch'd she stay'd, uninjured she removes, + Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his loves. + These instant shall be thine; and if the powers + Give to our arms proud Ilion's hostile towers, + Then shalt thou store (when Greece the spoil divides) + With gold and brass thy loaded navy's sides. + Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race + With copious love shall crown thy warm embrace; + Such as thyself shall chose; who yield to none, + Or yield to Helen's heavenly charms alone. + Yet hear me further: when our wars are o'er, + If safe we land on Argos' fruitful shore, + There shalt thou live his son, his honour share, + And with Orestes' self divide his care. + Yet more--three daughters in his court are bred, + And each well worthy of a royal bed: + Laodice and Iphigenia fair, + And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair: + Her shalt thou wed whom most thy eyes approve; + He asks no presents, no reward for love: + Himself will give the dower; so vast a store + As never father gave a child before. + Seven ample cities shall confess thy sway, + The Enope and Pherae thee obey, + Cardamyle with ample turrets crown'd, + And sacred Pedasus, for vines renown'd: + AEpea fair, the pastures Hira yields, + And rich Antheia with her flowery fields; + The whole extent to Pylos' sandy plain, + Along the verdant margin of the main. + There heifers graze, and labouring oxen toil; + Bold are the men, and generous is the soil. + There shalt thou reign, with power and justice crown'd, + And rule the tributary realms around. + Such are the proffers which this day we bring, + Such the repentance of a suppliant king. + But if all this, relentless, thou disdain, + If honour and if interest plead in vain, + Yet some redress to suppliant Greece afford, + And be, amongst her guardian gods, adored. + If no regard thy suffering country claim, + Hear thy own glory, and the voice of fame: + For now that chief, whose unresisted ire + Made nations tremble, and whole hosts retire, + Proud Hector, now, the unequal fight demands, + And only triumphs to deserve thy hands." + + Then thus the goddess-born: "Ulysses, hear + A faithful speech, that knows nor art nor fear; + What in my secret soul is understood, + My tongue shall utter, and my deeds make good. + Let Greece then know, my purpose I retain: + Nor with new treaties vex my peace in vain. + Who dares think one thing, and another tell, + My heart detests him as the gates of hell. + + "Then thus in short my fix'd resolves attend, + Which nor Atrides nor his Greeks can bend; + Long toils, long perils in their cause I bore, + But now the unfruitful glories charm no more. + Fight or not fight, a like reward we claim, + The wretch and hero find their prize the same. + Alike regretted in the dust he lies, + Who yields ignobly, or who bravely dies. + Of all my dangers, all my glorious pains, + A life of labours, lo! what fruit remains? + As the bold bird her helpless young attends, + From danger guards them, and from want defends; + In search of prey she wings the spacious air, + And with the untasted food supplies her care: + For thankless Greece such hardships have I braved, + Her wives, her infants, by my labours saved; + Long sleepless nights in heavy arms I stood, + And sweat laborious days in dust and blood. + I sack'd twelve ample cities on the main,(207) + And twelve lay smoking on the Trojan plain: + Then at Atrides' haughty feet were laid + The wealth I gathered, and the spoils I made. + Your mighty monarch these in peace possess'd; + Some few my soldiers had, himself the rest. + Some present, too, to every prince was paid; + And every prince enjoys the gift he made: + I only must refund, of all his train; + See what pre-eminence our merits gain! + My spoil alone his greedy soul delights: + My spouse alone must bless his lustful nights: + The woman, let him (as he may) enjoy; + But what's the quarrel, then, of Greece to Troy? + What to these shores the assembled nations draws, + What calls for vengeance but a woman's cause? + Are fair endowments and a beauteous face + Beloved by none but those of Atreus' race? + The wife whom choice and passion doth approve, + Sure every wise and worthy man will love. + Nor did my fair one less distinction claim; + Slave as she was, my soul adored the dame. + Wrong'd in my love, all proffers I disdain; + Deceived for once, I trust not kings again. + Ye have my answer--what remains to do, + Your king, Ulysses, may consult with you. + What needs he the defence this arm can make? + Has he not walls no human force can shake? + Has he not fenced his guarded navy round + With piles, with ramparts, and a trench profound? + And will not these (the wonders he has done) + Repel the rage of Priam's single son? + There was a time ('twas when for Greece I fought) + When Hector's prowess no such wonders wrought; + He kept the verge of Troy, nor dared to wait + Achilles' fury at the Scaean gate; + He tried it once, and scarce was saved by fate. + But now those ancient enmities are o'er; + To-morrow we the favouring gods implore; + Then shall you see our parting vessels crown'd, + And hear with oars the Hellespont resound. + The third day hence shall Pthia greet our sails,(208) + If mighty Neptune send propitious gales; + Pthia to her Achilles shall restore + The wealth he left for this detested shore: + Thither the spoils of this long war shall pass, + The ruddy gold, the steel, and shining brass: + My beauteous captives thither I'll convey, + And all that rests of my unravish'd prey. + One only valued gift your tyrant gave, + And that resumed--the fair Lyrnessian slave. + Then tell him: loud, that all the Greeks may hear, + And learn to scorn the wretch they basely fear; + (For arm'd in impudence, mankind he braves, + And meditates new cheats on all his slaves; + Though shameless as he is, to face these eyes + Is what he dares not: if he dares he dies;) + Tell him, all terms, all commerce I decline, + Nor share his council, nor his battle join; + For once deceiv'd, was his; but twice were mine, + No--let the stupid prince, whom Jove deprives + Of sense and justice, run where frenzy drives; + His gifts are hateful: kings of such a kind + Stand but as slaves before a noble mind, + Not though he proffer'd all himself possess'd, + And all his rapine could from others wrest: + Not all the golden tides of wealth that crown + The many-peopled Orchomenian town;(209) + Not all proud Thebes' unrivall'd walls contain, + The world's great empress on the Egyptian plain + (That spreads her conquests o'er a thousand states, + And pours her heroes through a hundred gates, + Two hundred horsemen and two hundred cars + From each wide portal issuing to the wars);(210) + Though bribes were heap'd on bribes, in number more + Than dust in fields, or sands along the shore; + Should all these offers for my friendship call, + 'Tis he that offers, and I scorn them all. + Atrides' daughter never shall be led + (An ill-match'd consort) to Achilles' bed; + Like golden Venus though she charm'd the heart, + And vied with Pallas in the works of art; + Some greater Greek let those high nuptials grace, + I hate alliance with a tyrant's race. + If heaven restore me to my realms with life, + The reverend Peleus shall elect my wife; + Thessalian nymphs there are of form divine, + And kings that sue to mix their blood with mine. + Bless'd in kind love, my years shall glide away, + Content with just hereditary sway; + There, deaf for ever to the martial strife, + Enjoy the dear prerogative of life. + Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold. + Not all Apollo's Pythian treasures hold, + Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of sway, + Can bribe the poor possession of a day! + Lost herds and treasures we by arms regain, + And steeds unrivall'd on the dusty plain: + But from our lips the vital spirit fled, + Returns no more to wake the silent dead. + My fates long since by Thetis were disclosed, + And each alternate, life or fame, proposed; + Here, if I stay, before the Trojan town, + Short is my date, but deathless my renown: + If I return, I quit immortal praise + For years on years, and long-extended days. + Convinced, though late, I find my fond mistake, + And warn the Greeks the wiser choice to make; + To quit these shores, their native seats enjoy, + Nor hope the fall of heaven-defended Troy. + Jove's arm display'd asserts her from the skies! + Her hearts are strengthen'd, and her glories rise. + Go then to Greece, report our fix'd design; + Bid all your counsels, all your armies join, + Let all your forces, all your arts conspire, + To save the ships, the troops, the chiefs, from fire. + One stratagem has fail'd, and others will: + Ye find, Achilles is unconquer'd still. + Go then--digest my message as ye may-- + But here this night let reverend Phoenix stay: + His tedious toils and hoary hairs demand + A peaceful death in Pthia's friendly land. + But whether he remain or sail with me, + His age be sacred, and his will be free." + + [Illustration: GREEK GALLEY.] + + GREEK GALLEY. + + + The son of Peleus ceased: the chiefs around + In silence wrapt, in consternation drown'd, + Attend the stern reply. Then Phoenix rose; + (Down his white beard a stream of sorrow flows;) + And while the fate of suffering Greece he mourn'd, + With accent weak these tender words return'd. + + [Illustration: PROSERPINE.] + + PROSERPINE. + + + "Divine Achilles! wilt thou then retire, + And leave our hosts in blood, our fleets on fire? + If wrath so dreadful fill thy ruthless mind, + How shall thy friend, thy Phoenix, stay behind? + The royal Peleus, when from Pthia's coast + He sent thee early to the Achaian host; + Thy youth as then in sage debates unskill'd, + And new to perils of the direful field: + He bade me teach thee all the ways of war, + To shine in councils, and in camps to dare. + Never, ah, never let me leave thy side! + No time shall part us, and no fate divide, + Not though the god, that breathed my life, restore + The bloom I boasted, and the port I bore, + When Greece of old beheld my youthful flames + (Delightful Greece, the land of lovely dames), + My father faithless to my mother's arms, + Old as he was, adored a stranger's charms. + I tried what youth could do (at her desire) + To win the damsel, and prevent my sire. + My sire with curses loads my hated head, + And cries, 'Ye furies! barren be his bed.' + Infernal Jove, the vengeful fiends below, + And ruthless Proserpine, confirm'd his vow. + Despair and grief distract my labouring mind! + Gods! what a crime my impious heart design'd! + I thought (but some kind god that thought suppress'd) + To plunge the poniard in my father's breast; + Then meditate my flight: my friends in vain + With prayers entreat me, and with force detain. + On fat of rams, black bulls, and brawny swine, + They daily feast, with draughts of fragrant wine; + Strong guards they placed, and watch'd nine nights entire; + The roofs and porches flamed with constant fire. + The tenth, I forced the gates, unseen of all: + And, favour'd by the night, o'erleap'd the wall, + My travels thence through spacious Greece extend; + In Phthia's court at last my labours end. + Your sire received me, as his son caress'd, + With gifts enrich'd, and with possessions bless'd. + The strong Dolopians thenceforth own'd my reign, + And all the coast that runs along the main. + By love to thee his bounties I repaid, + And early wisdom to thy soul convey'd: + Great as thou art, my lessons made thee brave: + A child I took thee, but a hero gave. + Thy infant breast a like affection show'd; + Still in my arms (an ever-pleasing load) + Or at my knee, by Phoenix wouldst thou stand; + No food was grateful but from Phoenix' hand.(211) + I pass my watchings o'er thy helpless years, + The tender labours, the compliant cares, + The gods (I thought) reversed their hard decree, + And Phoenix felt a father's joys in thee: + Thy growing virtues justified my cares, + And promised comfort to my silver hairs. + Now be thy rage, thy fatal rage, resign'd; + A cruel heart ill suits a manly mind: + The gods (the only great, and only wise) + Are moved by offerings, vows, and sacrifice; + Offending man their high compassion wins, + And daily prayers atone for daily sins. + Prayers are Jove's daughters, of celestial race, + Lame are their feet, and wrinkled is their face; + With humble mien, and with dejected eyes, + Constant they follow, where injustice flies. + Injustice swift, erect, and unconfined, + Sweeps the wide earth, and tramples o'er mankind, + While Prayers, to heal her wrongs, move slow behind. + Who hears these daughters of almighty Jove, + For him they mediate to the throne above + When man rejects the humble suit they make, + The sire revenges for the daughters' sake; + From Jove commission'd, fierce injustice then + Descends to punish unrelenting men. + O let not headlong passion bear the sway + These reconciling goddesses obey + Due honours to the seed of Jove belong, + Due honours calm the fierce, and bend the strong. + Were these not paid thee by the terms we bring, + Were rage still harbour'd in the haughty king; + Nor Greece nor all her fortunes should engage + Thy friend to plead against so just a rage. + But since what honour asks the general sends, + And sends by those whom most thy heart commends; + The best and noblest of the Grecian train; + Permit not these to sue, and sue in vain! + Let me (my son) an ancient fact unfold, + A great example drawn from times of old; + Hear what our fathers were, and what their praise, + Who conquer'd their revenge in former days. + + "Where Calydon on rocky mountains stands(212) + Once fought the AEtolian and Curetian bands; + To guard it those; to conquer, these advance; + And mutual deaths were dealt with mutual chance. + The silver Cynthia bade contention rise, + In vengeance of neglected sacrifice; + On OEneus fields she sent a monstrous boar, + That levell'd harvests, and whole forests tore: + This beast (when many a chief his tusks had slain) + Great Meleager stretch'd along the plain, + Then, for his spoils, a new debate arose, + The neighbour nations thence commencing foes. + Strong as they were, the bold Curetes fail'd, + While Meleager's thundering arm prevail'd: + Till rage at length inflamed his lofty breast + (For rage invades the wisest and the best). + + "Cursed by Althaea, to his wrath he yields, + And in his wife's embrace forgets the fields. + (She from Marpessa sprung, divinely fair, + And matchless Idas, more than man in war: + The god of day adored the mother's charms; + Against the god the father bent his arms: + The afflicted pair, their sorrows to proclaim, + From Cleopatra changed their daughter's name, + And call'd Alcyone; a name to show + The father's grief, the mourning mother's woe.) + To her the chief retired from stern debate, + But found no peace from fierce Althaea's hate: + Althaea's hate the unhappy warrior drew, + Whose luckless hand his royal uncle slew; + She beat the ground, and call'd the powers beneath + On her own son to wreak her brother's death; + Hell heard her curses from the realms profound, + And the red fiends that walk the nightly round. + In vain AEtolia her deliverer waits, + War shakes her walls, and thunders at her gates. + She sent ambassadors, a chosen band, + Priests of the gods, and elders of the land; + Besought the chief to save the sinking state: + Their prayers were urgent, and their proffers great: + (Full fifty acres of the richest ground, + Half pasture green, and half with vineyards crown'd:) + His suppliant father, aged OEneus, came; + His sisters follow'd; even the vengeful dame, + Althaea, sues; his friends before him fall: + He stands relentless, and rejects them all. + Meanwhile the victor's shouts ascend the skies; + The walls are scaled; the rolling flames arise; + At length his wife (a form divine) appears, + With piercing cries, and supplicating tears; + She paints the horrors of a conquer'd town, + The heroes slain, the palaces o'erthrown, + The matrons ravish'd, the whole race enslaved: + The warrior heard, he vanquish'd, and he saved. + The AEtolians, long disdain'd, now took their turn, + And left the chief their broken faith to mourn. + Learn hence, betimes to curb pernicious ire, + Nor stay till yonder fleets ascend in fire; + Accept the presents; draw thy conquering sword; + And be amongst our guardian gods adored." + + Thus he: the stern Achilles thus replied: + "My second father, and my reverend guide: + Thy friend, believe me, no such gifts demands, + And asks no honours from a mortal's hands; + Jove honours me, and favours my designs; + His pleasure guides me, and his will confines; + And here I stay (if such his high behest) + While life's warm spirit beats within my breast. + Yet hear one word, and lodge it in thy heart: + No more molest me on Atrides' part: + Is it for him these tears are taught to flow, + For him these sorrows? for my mortal foe? + A generous friendship no cold medium knows, + Burns with one love, with one resentment glows; + One should our interests and our passions be; + My friend must hate the man that injures me. + Do this, my Phoenix, 'tis a generous part; + And share my realms, my honours, and my heart. + Let these return: our voyage, or our stay, + Rest undetermined till the dawning day." + + He ceased; then order'd for the sage's bed + A warmer couch with numerous carpets spread. + With that, stern Ajax his long silence broke, + And thus, impatient, to Ulysses spoke: + + "Hence let us go--why waste we time in vain? + See what effect our low submissions gain! + Liked or not liked, his words we must relate, + The Greeks expect them, and our heroes wait. + Proud as he is, that iron heart retains + Its stubborn purpose, and his friends disdains. + Stern and unpitying! if a brother bleed, + On just atonement, we remit the deed; + A sire the slaughter of his son forgives; + The price of blood discharged, the murderer lives: + The haughtiest hearts at length their rage resign, + And gifts can conquer every soul but thine.(213) + The gods that unrelenting breast have steel'd, + And cursed thee with a mind that cannot yield. + One woman-slave was ravish'd from thy arms: + Lo, seven are offer'd, and of equal charms. + Then hear, Achilles! be of better mind; + Revere thy roof, and to thy guests be kind; + And know the men of all the Grecian host, + Who honour worth, and prize thy valour most." + + "O soul of battles, and thy people's guide! + (To Ajax thus the first of Greeks replied) + Well hast thou spoke; but at the tyrant's name + My rage rekindles, and my soul's on flame: + 'Tis just resentment, and becomes the brave: + Disgraced, dishonour'd, like the vilest slave! + Return, then, heroes! and our answer bear, + The glorious combat is no more my care; + Not till, amidst yon sinking navy slain, + The blood of Greeks shall dye the sable main; + Not till the flames, by Hector's fury thrown, + Consume your vessels, and approach my own; + Just there, the impetuous homicide shall stand, + There cease his battle, and there feel our hand." + + This said, each prince a double goblet crown'd, + And cast a large libation on the ground; + Then to their vessels, through the gloomy shades, + The chiefs return; divine Ulysses leads. + Meantime Achilles' slaves prepared a bed, + With fleeces, carpets, and soft linen spread: + There, till the sacred morn restored the day, + In slumber sweet the reverend Phoenix lay. + But in his inner tent, an ampler space, + Achilles slept; and in his warm embrace + Fair Diomede of the Lesbian race. + Last, for Patroclus was the couch prepared, + Whose nightly joys the beauteous Iphis shared; + Achilles to his friend consign'd her charms + When Scyros fell before his conquering arms. + + And now the elected chiefs whom Greece had sent, + Pass'd through the hosts, and reach'd the royal tent. + Then rising all, with goblets in their hands, + The peers and leaders of the Achaian bands + Hail'd their return: Atrides first begun: + + "Say what success? divine Laertes' son! + Achilles' high resolves declare to all: + "Returns the chief, or must our navy fall?" + + "Great king of nations! (Ithacus replied) + Fix'd is his wrath, unconquer'd is his pride; + He slights thy friendship, thy proposals scorns, + And, thus implored, with fiercer fury burns. + To save our army, and our fleets to free, + Is not his care; but left to Greece and thee. + Your eyes shall view, when morning paints the sky, + Beneath his oars the whitening billows fly; + Us too he bids our oars and sails employ, + Nor hope the fall of heaven-protected Troy; + For Jove o'ershades her with his arm divine, + Inspires her war, and bids her glory shine. + Such was his word: what further he declared, + These sacred heralds and great Ajax heard. + But Phoenix in his tent the chief retains, + Safe to transport him to his native plains + When morning dawns; if other he decree, + His age is sacred, and his choice is free." + + Ulysses ceased: the great Achaian host, + With sorrow seized, in consternation lost, + Attend the stern reply. Tydides broke + The general silence, and undaunted spoke. + "Why should we gifts to proud Achilles send, + Or strive with prayers his haughty soul to bend? + His country's woes he glories to deride, + And prayers will burst that swelling heart with pride. + Be the fierce impulse of his rage obey'd, + Our battles let him or desert or aid; + Then let him arm when Jove or he think fit: + That, to his madness, or to Heaven commit: + What for ourselves we can, is always ours; + This night, let due repast refresh our powers; + (For strength consists in spirits and in blood, + And those are owed to generous wine and food;) + But when the rosy messenger of day + Strikes the blue mountains with her golden ray, + Ranged at the ships, let all our squadrons shine + In flaming arms, a long-extended line: + In the dread front let great Atrides stand, + The first in danger, as in high command." + + Shouts of acclaim the listening heroes raise, + Then each to Heaven the due libations pays; + Till sleep, descending o'er the tents, bestows + The grateful blessings of desired repose."(214) + + [Illustration: ACHILLES.] + + ACHILLES. + + + + + +BOOK X. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE NIGHT-ADVENTURE OF DIOMED AND ULYSSES. + +Upon the refusal of Achilles to return to the army, the distress of +Agamemnon is described in the most lively manner. He takes no rest that +night, but passes through the camp, awaking the leaders, and contriving +all possible methods for the public safety. Menelaus, Nestor, Ulysses, and +Diomed are employed in raising the rest of the captains. They call a +council of war, and determine to send scouts into the enemies' camp, to +learn their posture, and discover their intentions. Diomed undertakes this +hazardous enterprise, and makes choice of Ulysses for his companion. In +their passage they surprise Dolon, whom Hector had sent on a like design +to the camp of the Grecians. From him they are informed of the situation +of the Trojan and auxiliary forces, and particularly of Rhesus, and the +Thracians who were lately arrived. They pass on with success; kill Rhesus, +with several of his officers, and seize the famous horses of that prince, +with which they return in triumph to the camp. + +The same night continues; the scene lies in the two camps. + + All night the chiefs before their vessels lay, + And lost in sleep the labours of the day: + All but the king: with various thoughts oppress'd,(215) + His country's cares lay rolling in his breast. + As when by lightnings Jove's ethereal power + Foretels the rattling hail, or weighty shower, + Or sends soft snows to whiten all the shore, + Or bids the brazen throat of war to roar; + By fits one flash succeeds as one expires, + And heaven flames thick with momentary fires: + So bursting frequent from Atrides' breast, + Sighs following sighs his inward fears confess'd. + Now o'er the fields, dejected, he surveys + From thousand Trojan fires the mounting blaze; + Hears in the passing wind their music blow, + And marks distinct the voices of the foe. + Now looking backwards to the fleet and coast, + Anxious he sorrows for the endangered host. + He rends his hair, in sacrifice to Jove, + And sues to him that ever lives above: + Inly he groans; while glory and despair + Divide his heart, and wage a double war. + + A thousand cares his labouring breast revolves; + To seek sage Nestor now the chief resolves, + With him, in wholesome counsels, to debate + What yet remains to save the afflicted state. + He rose, and first he cast his mantle round, + Next on his feet the shining sandals bound; + A lion's yellow spoils his back conceal'd; + His warlike hand a pointed javelin held. + Meanwhile his brother, press'd with equal woes, + Alike denied the gifts of soft repose, + Laments for Greece, that in his cause before + So much had suffer'd and must suffer more. + A leopard's spotted hide his shoulders spread: + A brazen helmet glitter'd on his head: + Thus (with a javelin in his hand) he went + To wake Atrides in the royal tent. + Already waked, Atrides he descried, + His armour buckling at his vessel's side. + Joyful they met; the Spartan thus begun: + "Why puts my brother his bright armour on? + Sends he some spy, amidst these silent hours, + To try yon camp, and watch the Trojan powers? + But say, what hero shall sustain that task? + Such bold exploits uncommon courage ask; + Guideless, alone, through night's dark shade to go, + And midst a hostile camp explore the foe." + + To whom the king: "In such distress we stand, + No vulgar counsel our affairs demand; + Greece to preserve, is now no easy part, + But asks high wisdom, deep design, and art. + For Jove, averse, our humble prayer denies, + And bows his head to Hector's sacrifice. + What eye has witness'd, or what ear believed, + In one great day, by one great arm achieved, + Such wondrous deeds as Hector's hand has done, + And we beheld, the last revolving sun + What honours the beloved of Jove adorn! + Sprung from no god, and of no goddess born; + Yet such his acts, as Greeks unborn shall tell, + And curse the battle where their fathers fell. + + "Now speed thy hasty course along the fleet, + There call great Ajax, and the prince of Crete; + Ourself to hoary Nestor will repair; + To keep the guards on duty be his care, + (For Nestor's influence best that quarter guides, + Whose son with Merion, o'er the watch presides.") + To whom the Spartan: "These thy orders borne, + Say, shall I stay, or with despatch return?" + "There shall thou stay, (the king of men replied,) + Else may we miss to meet, without a guide, + The paths so many, and the camp so wide. + Still, with your voice the slothful soldiers raise, + Urge by their fathers' fame their future praise. + Forget we now our state and lofty birth; + Not titles here, but works, must prove our worth. + To labour is the lot of man below; + And when Jove gave us life, he gave us woe." + + This said, each parted to his several cares: + The king to Nestor's sable ship repairs; + The sage protector of the Greeks he found + Stretch'd in his bed with all his arms around + The various-colour'd scarf, the shield he rears, + The shining helmet, and the pointed spears; + The dreadful weapons of the warrior's rage, + That, old in arms, disdain'd the peace of age. + Then, leaning on his hand his watchful head, + The hoary monarch raised his eyes and said: + + "What art thou, speak, that on designs unknown, + While others sleep, thus range the camp alone; + Seek'st thou some friend or nightly sentinel? + Stand off, approach not, but thy purpose tell." + + "O son of Neleus, (thus the king rejoin'd,) + Pride of the Greeks, and glory of thy kind! + Lo, here the wretched Agamemnon stands, + The unhappy general of the Grecian bands, + Whom Jove decrees with daily cares to bend, + And woes, that only with his life shall end! + Scarce can my knees these trembling limbs sustain, + And scarce my heart support its load of pain. + No taste of sleep these heavy eyes have known, + Confused, and sad, I wander thus alone, + With fears distracted, with no fix'd design; + And all my people's miseries are mine. + If aught of use thy waking thoughts suggest, + (Since cares, like mine, deprive thy soul of rest,) + Impart thy counsel, and assist thy friend; + Now let us jointly to the trench descend, + At every gate the fainting guard excite, + Tired with the toils of day and watch of night; + Else may the sudden foe our works invade, + So near, and favour'd by the gloomy shade." + + To him thus Nestor: "Trust the powers above, + Nor think proud Hector's hopes confirm'd by Jove: + How ill agree the views of vain mankind, + And the wise counsels of the eternal mind! + Audacious Hector, if the gods ordain + That great Achilles rise and rage again, + What toils attend thee, and what woes remain! + Lo, faithful Nestor thy command obeys; + The care is next our other chiefs to raise: + Ulysses, Diomed, we chiefly need; + Meges for strength, Oileus famed for speed. + Some other be despatch'd of nimbler feet, + To those tall ships, remotest of the fleet, + Where lie great Ajax and the king of Crete.(216) + To rouse the Spartan I myself decree; + Dear as he is to us, and dear to thee, + Yet must I tax his sloth, that claims no share + With his great brother in his martial care: + Him it behoved to every chief to sue, + Preventing every part perform'd by you; + For strong necessity our toils demands, + Claims all our hearts, and urges all our hands." + + To whom the king: "With reverence we allow + Thy just rebukes, yet learn to spare them now: + My generous brother is of gentle kind, + He seems remiss, but bears a valiant mind; + Through too much deference to our sovereign sway, + Content to follow when we lead the way: + But now, our ills industrious to prevent, + Long ere the rest he rose, and sought my tent. + The chiefs you named, already at his call, + Prepare to meet us near the navy-wall; + Assembling there, between the trench and gates, + Near the night-guards, our chosen council waits." + + "Then none (said Nestor) shall his rule withstand, + For great examples justify command." + With that, the venerable warrior rose; + The shining greaves his manly legs enclose; + His purple mantle golden buckles join'd, + Warm with the softest wool, and doubly lined. + Then rushing from his tent, he snatch'd in haste + His steely lance, that lighten'd as he pass'd. + The camp he traversed through the sleeping crowd, + Stopp'd at Ulysses' tent, and call'd aloud. + Ulysses, sudden as the voice was sent, + Awakes, starts up, and issues from his tent. + "What new distress, what sudden cause of fright, + Thus leads you wandering in the silent night?" + "O prudent chief! (the Pylian sage replied) + Wise as thou art, be now thy wisdom tried: + Whatever means of safety can be sought, + Whatever counsels can inspire our thought, + Whatever methods, or to fly or fight; + All, all depend on this important night!" + He heard, return'd, and took his painted shield; + Then join'd the chiefs, and follow'd through the field. + Without his tent, bold Diomed they found, + All sheathed in arms, his brave companions round: + Each sunk in sleep, extended on the field, + His head reclining on his bossy shield. + A wood of spears stood by, that, fix'd upright, + Shot from their flashing points a quivering light. + A bull's black hide composed the hero's bed; + A splendid carpet roll'd beneath his head. + Then, with his foot, old Nestor gently shakes + The slumbering chief, and in these words awakes: + + "Rise, son of Tydeus! to the brave and strong + Rest seems inglorious, and the night too long. + But sleep'st thou now, when from yon hill the foe + Hangs o'er the fleet, and shades our walls below?" + + At this, soft slumber from his eyelids fled; + The warrior saw the hoary chief, and said: + "Wondrous old man! whose soul no respite knows, + Though years and honours bid thee seek repose, + Let younger Greeks our sleeping warriors wake; + Ill fits thy age these toils to undertake." + "My friend, (he answered,) generous is thy care; + These toils, my subjects and my sons might bear; + Their loyal thoughts and pious love conspire + To ease a sovereign and relieve a sire: + But now the last despair surrounds our host; + No hour must pass, no moment must be lost; + Each single Greek, in this conclusive strife, + Stands on the sharpest edge of death or life: + Yet, if my years thy kind regard engage, + Employ thy youth as I employ my age; + Succeed to these my cares, and rouse the rest; + He serves me most, who serves his country best." + + This said, the hero o'er his shoulders flung + A lion's spoils, that to his ankles hung; + Then seized his ponderous lance, and strode along. + Meges the bold, with Ajax famed for speed, + The warrior roused, and to the entrenchments lead. + + And now the chiefs approach the nightly guard; + A wakeful squadron, each in arms prepared: + The unwearied watch their listening leaders keep, + And, couching close, repel invading sleep. + So faithful dogs their fleecy charge maintain, + With toil protected from the prowling train; + When the gaunt lioness, with hunger bold, + Springs from the mountains toward the guarded fold: + Through breaking woods her rustling course they hear; + Loud, and more loud, the clamours strike their ear + Of hounds and men: they start, they gaze around, + Watch every side, and turn to every sound. + Thus watch'd the Grecians, cautious of surprise, + Each voice, each motion, drew their ears and eyes: + Each step of passing feet increased the affright; + And hostile Troy was ever full in sight. + Nestor with joy the wakeful band survey'd, + And thus accosted through the gloomy shade. + "'Tis well, my sons! your nightly cares employ; + Else must our host become the scorn of Troy. + Watch thus, and Greece shall live." The hero said; + Then o'er the trench the following chieftains led. + His son, and godlike Merion, march'd behind + (For these the princes to their council join'd). + The trenches pass'd, the assembled kings around + In silent state the consistory crown'd. + A place there was, yet undefiled with gore, + The spot where Hector stopp'd his rage before; + When night descending, from his vengeful hand + Reprieved the relics of the Grecian band: + (The plain beside with mangled corps was spread, + And all his progress mark'd by heaps of dead:) + There sat the mournful kings: when Neleus' son, + The council opening, in these words begun: + + "Is there (said he) a chief so greatly brave, + His life to hazard, and his country save? + Lives there a man, who singly dares to go + To yonder camp, or seize some straggling foe? + Or favour'd by the night approach so near, + Their speech, their counsels, and designs to hear? + If to besiege our navies they prepare, + Or Troy once more must be the seat of war? + This could he learn, and to our peers recite, + And pass unharm'd the dangers of the night; + What fame were his through all succeeding days, + While Phoebus shines, or men have tongues to praise! + What gifts his grateful country would bestow! + What must not Greece to her deliverer owe? + A sable ewe each leader should provide, + With each a sable lambkin by her side; + At every rite his share should be increased, + And his the foremost honours of the feast." + + Fear held them mute: alone, untaught to fear, + Tydides spoke--"The man you seek is here. + Through yon black camps to bend my dangerous way, + Some god within commands, and I obey. + But let some other chosen warrior join, + To raise my hopes, and second my design. + By mutual confidence and mutual aid, + Great deeds are done, and great discoveries made; + The wise new prudence from the wise acquire, + And one brave hero fans another's fire." + + Contending leaders at the word arose; + Each generous breast with emulation glows; + So brave a task each Ajax strove to share, + Bold Merion strove, and Nestor's valiant heir; + The Spartan wish'd the second place to gain, + And great Ulysses wish'd, nor wish'd in vain. + Then thus the king of men the contest ends: + "Thou first of warriors, and thou best of friends, + Undaunted Diomed! what chief to join + In this great enterprise, is only thine. + Just be thy choice, without affection made; + To birth, or office, no respect be paid; + Let worth determine here." The monarch spake, + And inly trembled for his brother's sake. + + "Then thus (the godlike Diomed rejoin'd) + My choice declares the impulse of my mind. + How can I doubt, while great Ulysses stands + To lend his counsels and assist our hands? + A chief, whose safety is Minerva's care; + So famed, so dreadful, in the works of war: + Bless'd in his conduct, I no aid require; + Wisdom like his might pass through flames of fire." + + "It fits thee not, before these chiefs of fame, + (Replied the sage,) to praise me, or to blame: + Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe, + Are lost on hearers that our merits know. + But let us haste--Night rolls the hours away, + The reddening orient shows the coming day, + The stars shine fainter on the ethereal plains, + And of night's empire but a third remains." + + Thus having spoke, with generous ardour press'd, + In arms terrific their huge limbs they dress'd. + A two-edged falchion Thrasymed the brave, + And ample buckler, to Tydides gave: + Then in a leathern helm he cased his head, + Short of its crest, and with no plume o'erspread: + (Such as by youths unused to arms are worn:) + No spoils enrich it, and no studs adorn. + Next him Ulysses took a shining sword, + A bow and quiver, with bright arrows stored: + A well-proved casque, with leather braces bound, + (Thy gift, Meriones,) his temples crown'd; + Soft wool within; without, in order spread,(217) + A boar's white teeth grinn'd horrid o'er his head. + This from Amyntor, rich Ormenus' son, + Autolycus by fraudful rapine won, + And gave Amphidamas; from him the prize + Molus received, the pledge of social ties; + The helmet next by Merion was possess'd, + And now Ulysses' thoughtful temples press'd. + Thus sheathed in arms, the council they forsake, + And dark through paths oblique their progress take. + Just then, in sign she favour'd their intent, + A long-wing'd heron great Minerva sent: + This, though surrounding shades obscured their view. + By the shrill clang and whistling wings they knew. + As from the right she soar'd, Ulysses pray'd, + Hail'd the glad omen, and address'd the maid: + + "O daughter of that god whose arm can wield + The avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield! + O thou! for ever present in my way, + Who all my motions, all my toils survey! + Safe may we pass beneath the gloomy shade, + Safe by thy succour to our ships convey'd, + And let some deed this signal night adorn, + To claim the tears of Trojans yet unborn." + + Then godlike Diomed preferr'd his prayer: + "Daughter of Jove, unconquer'd Pallas! hear. + Great queen of arms, whose favour Tydeus won, + As thou defend'st the sire, defend the son. + When on AEsopus' banks the banded powers + Of Greece he left, and sought the Theban towers, + Peace was his charge; received with peaceful show, + He went a legate, but return'd a foe: + Then help'd by thee, and cover'd by thy shield, + He fought with numbers, and made numbers yield. + So now be present, O celestial maid! + So still continue to the race thine aid! + A youthful steer shall fall beneath the stroke, + Untamed, unconscious of the galling yoke, + With ample forehead, and with spreading horns, + Whose taper tops refulgent gold adorns." + The heroes pray'd, and Pallas from the skies + Accords their vow, succeeds their enterprise. + Now, like two lions panting for the prey, + With dreadful thoughts they trace the dreary way, + Through the black horrors of the ensanguined plain, + Through dust, through blood, o'er arms, and hills of slain. + + Nor less bold Hector, and the sons of Troy, + On high designs the wakeful hours employ; + The assembled peers their lofty chief enclosed; + Who thus the counsels of his breast proposed: + + "What glorious man, for high attempts prepared, + Dares greatly venture for a rich reward? + Of yonder fleet a bold discovery make, + What watch they keep, and what resolves they take? + If now subdued they meditate their flight, + And, spent with toil, neglect the watch of night? + His be the chariot that shall please him most, + Of all the plunder of the vanquish'd host; + His the fair steeds that all the rest excel, + And his the glory to have served so well." + + A youth there was among the tribes of Troy, + Dolon his name, Eumedes' only boy, + (Five girls beside the reverend herald told.) + Rich was the son in brass, and rich in gold; + Not bless'd by nature with the charms of face, + But swift of foot, and matchless in the race. + "Hector! (he said) my courage bids me meet + This high achievement, and explore the fleet: + But first exalt thy sceptre to the skies, + And swear to grant me the demanded prize; + The immortal coursers, and the glittering car, + That bear Pelides through the ranks of war. + Encouraged thus, no idle scout I go, + Fulfil thy wish, their whole intention know, + Even to the royal tent pursue my way, + And all their counsels, all their aims betray." + + The chief then heaved the golden sceptre high, + Attesting thus the monarch of the sky: + "Be witness thou! immortal lord of all! + Whose thunder shakes the dark aerial hall: + By none but Dolon shall this prize be borne, + And him alone the immortal steeds adorn." + + Thus Hector swore: the gods were call'd in vain, + But the rash youth prepares to scour the plain: + Across his back the bended bow he flung, + A wolf's grey hide around his shoulders hung, + A ferret's downy fur his helmet lined, + And in his hand a pointed javelin shined. + Then (never to return) he sought the shore, + And trod the path his feet must tread no more. + Scarce had he pass'd the steeds and Trojan throng, + (Still bending forward as he coursed along,) + When, on the hollow way, the approaching tread + Ulysses mark'd, and thus to Diomed; + + "O friend! I hear some step of hostile feet, + Moving this way, or hastening to the fleet; + Some spy, perhaps, to lurk beside the main; + Or nightly pillager that strips the slain. + Yet let him pass, and win a little space; + Then rush behind him, and prevent his pace. + But if too swift of foot he flies before, + Confine his course along the fleet and shore, + Betwixt the camp and him our spears employ, + And intercept his hoped return to Troy." + + With that they stepp'd aside, and stoop'd their head, + (As Dolon pass'd,) behind a heap of dead: + Along the path the spy unwary flew; + Soft, at just distance, both the chiefs pursue. + So distant they, and such the space between, + As when two teams of mules divide the green, + (To whom the hind like shares of land allows,) + When now new furrows part the approaching ploughs. + Now Dolon, listening, heard them as they pass'd; + Hector (he thought) had sent, and check'd his haste, + Till scarce at distance of a javelin's throw, + No voice succeeding, he perceived the foe. + As when two skilful hounds the leveret wind; + Or chase through woods obscure the trembling hind; + Now lost, now seen, they intercept his way, + And from the herd still turn the flying prey: + So fast, and with such fears, the Trojan flew; + So close, so constant, the bold Greeks pursue. + Now almost on the fleet the dastard falls, + And mingles with the guards that watch the walls; + When brave Tydides stopp'd; a gen'rous thought + (Inspired by Pallas) in his bosom wrought, + Lest on the foe some forward Greek advance, + And snatch the glory from his lifted lance. + Then thus aloud: "Whoe'er thou art, remain; + This javelin else shall fix thee to the plain." + He said, and high in air the weapon cast, + Which wilful err'd, and o'er his shoulder pass'd; + Then fix'd in earth. Against the trembling wood + The wretch stood propp'd, and quiver'd as he stood; + A sudden palsy seized his turning head; + His loose teeth chatter'd, and his colour fled; + The panting warriors seize him as he stands, + And with unmanly tears his life demands. + + "O spare my youth, and for the breath I owe, + Large gifts of price my father shall bestow: + Vast heaps of brass shall in your ships be told, + And steel well-temper'd and refulgent gold." + + To whom Ulysses made this wise reply: + "Whoe'er thou art, be bold, nor fear to die. + What moves thee, say, when sleep has closed the sight, + To roam the silent fields in dead of night? + Cam'st thou the secrets of our camp to find, + By Hector prompted, or thy daring mind? + Or art some wretch by hopes of plunder led, + Through heaps of carnage, to despoil the dead?" + + Then thus pale Dolon, with a fearful look: + (Still, as he spoke, his limbs with horror shook:) + "Hither I came, by Hector's words deceived; + Much did he promise, rashly I believed: + No less a bribe than great Achilles' car, + And those swift steeds that sweep the ranks of war, + Urged me, unwilling, this attempt to make; + To learn what counsels, what resolves you take: + If now subdued, you fix your hopes on flight, + And, tired with toils, neglect the watch of night." + + "Bold was thy aim, and glorious was the prize, + (Ulysses, with a scornful smile, replies,) + Far other rulers those proud steeds demand, + And scorn the guidance of a vulgar hand; + Even great Achilles scarce their rage can tame, + Achilles sprung from an immortal dame. + But say, be faithful, and the truth recite! + Where lies encamp'd the Trojan chief to-night? + Where stand his coursers? in what quarter sleep + Their other princes? tell what watch they keep: + Say, since this conquest, what their counsels are; + Or here to combat, from their city far, + Or back to Ilion's walls transfer the war?" + + Ulysses thus, and thus Eumedes' son: + "What Dolon knows, his faithful tongue shall own. + Hector, the peers assembling in his tent, + A council holds at Ilus' monument. + No certain guards the nightly watch partake; + Where'er yon fires ascend, the Trojans wake: + Anxious for Troy, the guard the natives keep; + Safe in their cares, the auxiliar forces sleep, + Whose wives and infants, from the danger far, + Discharge their souls of half the fears of war." + + "Then sleep those aids among the Trojan train, + (Inquired the chief,) or scattered o'er the plain?" + To whom the spy: "Their powers they thus dispose + The Paeons, dreadful with their bended bows, + The Carians, Caucons, the Pelasgian host, + And Leleges, encamp along the coast. + Not distant far, lie higher on the land + The Lycian, Mysian, and Maeonian band, + And Phrygia's horse, by Thymbras' ancient wall; + The Thracians utmost, and apart from all. + These Troy but lately to her succour won, + Led on by Rhesus, great Eioneus' son: + I saw his coursers in proud triumph go, + Swift as the wind, and white as winter-snow; + Rich silver plates his shining car infold; + His solid arms, refulgent, flame with gold; + No mortal shoulders suit the glorious load, + Celestial panoply, to grace a god! + Let me, unhappy, to your fleet be borne, + Or leave me here, a captive's fate to mourn, + In cruel chains, till your return reveal + The truth or falsehood of the news I tell." + + To this Tydides, with a gloomy frown: + "Think not to live, though all the truth be shown: + Shall we dismiss thee, in some future strife + To risk more bravely thy now forfeit life? + Or that again our camps thou may'st explore? + No--once a traitor, thou betray'st no more." + + Sternly he spoke, and as the wretch prepared + With humble blandishment to stroke his beard, + Like lightning swift the wrathful falchion flew, + Divides the neck, and cuts the nerves in two; + One instant snatch'd his trembling soul to hell, + The head, yet speaking, mutter'd as it fell. + The furry helmet from his brow they tear, + The wolf's grey hide, the unbended bow and spear; + These great Ulysses lifting to the skies, + To favouring Pallas dedicates the prize: + + "Great queen of arms, receive this hostile spoil, + And let the Thracian steeds reward our toil; + Thee, first of all the heavenly host, we praise; + O speed our labours, and direct our ways!" + This said, the spoils, with dropping gore defaced, + High on a spreading tamarisk he placed; + Then heap'd with reeds and gathered boughs the plain, + To guide their footsteps to the place again. + + Through the still night they cross the devious fields, + Slippery with blood, o'er arms and heaps of shields, + Arriving where the Thracian squadrons lay, + And eased in sleep the labours of the day. + Ranged in three lines they view the prostrate band: + The horses yoked beside each warrior stand. + Their arms in order on the ground reclined, + Through the brown shade the fulgid weapons shined: + Amidst lay Rhesus, stretch'd in sleep profound, + And the white steeds behind his chariot bound. + The welcome sight Ulysses first descries, + And points to Diomed the tempting prize. + "The man, the coursers, and the car behold! + Described by Dolon, with the arms of gold. + Now, brave Tydides! now thy courage try, + Approach the chariot, and the steeds untie; + Or if thy soul aspire to fiercer deeds, + Urge thou the slaughter, while I seize the steeds." + + Pallas (this said) her hero's bosom warms, + Breathed in his heart, and strung his nervous arms; + Where'er he pass'd, a purple stream pursued + His thirsty falchion, fat with hostile blood, + Bathed all his footsteps, dyed the fields with gore, + And a low groan remurmur'd through the shore. + So the grim lion, from his nightly den, + O'erleaps the fences, and invades the pen, + On sheep or goats, resistless in his way, + He falls, and foaming rends the guardless prey; + Nor stopp'd the fury of his vengeful hand, + Till twelve lay breathless of the Thracian band. + Ulysses following, as his partner slew, + Back by the foot each slaughter'd warrior drew; + The milk-white coursers studious to convey + Safe to the ships, he wisely cleared the way: + Lest the fierce steeds, not yet to battles bred, + Should start, and tremble at the heaps of dead. + Now twelve despatch'd, the monarch last they found; + Tydides' falchion fix'd him to the ground. + Just then a deathful dream Minerva sent, + A warlike form appear'd before his tent, + Whose visionary steel his bosom tore: + So dream'd the monarch, and awaked no more.(218) + + Ulysses now the snowy steeds detains, + And leads them, fasten'd by the silver reins; + These, with his bow unbent, he lash'd along; + (The scourge forgot, on Rhesus' chariot hung;) + Then gave his friend the signal to retire; + But him, new dangers, new achievements fire; + Doubtful he stood, or with his reeking blade + To send more heroes to the infernal shade, + Drag off the car where Rhesus' armour lay, + Or heave with manly force, and lift away. + While unresolved the son of Tydeus stands, + Pallas appears, and thus her chief commands: + + "Enough, my son; from further slaughter cease, + Regard thy safety, and depart in peace; + Haste to the ships, the gotten spoils enjoy, + Nor tempt too far the hostile gods of Troy." + + The voice divine confess'd the martial maid; + In haste he mounted, and her word obey'd; + The coursers fly before Ulysses' bow, + Swift as the wind, and white as winter-snow. + + Not unobserved they pass'd: the god of light + Had watch'd his Troy, and mark'd Minerva's flight, + Saw Tydeus' son with heavenly succour bless'd, + And vengeful anger fill'd his sacred breast. + Swift to the Trojan camp descends the power, + And wakes Hippocoon in the morning-hour; + (On Rhesus' side accustom'd to attend, + A faithful kinsman, and instructive friend;) + He rose, and saw the field deform'd with blood, + An empty space where late the coursers stood, + The yet-warm Thracians panting on the coast; + For each he wept, but for his Rhesus most: + Now while on Rhesus' name he calls in vain, + The gathering tumult spreads o'er all the plain; + On heaps the Trojans rush, with wild affright, + And wondering view the slaughters of the night. + + Meanwhile the chiefs, arriving at the shade + Where late the spoils of Hector's spy were laid, + Ulysses stopp'd; to him Tydides bore + The trophy, dropping yet with Dolon's gore: + Then mounts again; again their nimbler feet + The coursers ply, and thunder towards the fleet. + + [Illustration: DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS.] + + DIOMED AND ULYSSES RETURNING WITH THE SPOILS OF RHESUS. + + + Old Nestor first perceived the approaching sound, + Bespeaking thus the Grecian peers around: + "Methinks the noise of trampling steeds I hear, + Thickening this way, and gathering on my ear; + Perhaps some horses of the Trojan breed + (So may, ye gods! my pious hopes succeed) + The great Tydides and Ulysses bear, + Return'd triumphant with this prize of war. + Yet much I fear (ah, may that fear be vain!) + The chiefs outnumber'd by the Trojan train; + Perhaps, even now pursued, they seek the shore; + Or, oh! perhaps those heroes are no more." + + Scarce had he spoke, when, lo! the chiefs appear, + And spring to earth; the Greeks dismiss their fear: + With words of friendship and extended hands + They greet the kings; and Nestor first demands: + + "Say thou, whose praises all our host proclaim, + Thou living glory of the Grecian name! + Say whence these coursers? by what chance bestow'd, + The spoil of foes, or present of a god? + Not those fair steeds, so radiant and so gay, + That draw the burning chariot of the day. + Old as I am, to age I scorn to yield, + And daily mingle in the martial field; + But sure till now no coursers struck my sight + Like these, conspicuous through the ranks of fight. + Some god, I deem, conferred the glorious prize, + Bless'd as ye are, and favourites of the skies; + The care of him who bids the thunder roar, + And her, whose fury bathes the world with gore." + + "Father! not so, (sage Ithacus rejoin'd,) + The gifts of heaven are of a nobler kind. + Of Thracian lineage are the steeds ye view, + Whose hostile king the brave Tydides slew; + Sleeping he died, with all his guards around, + And twelve beside lay gasping on the ground. + These other spoils from conquer'd Dolon came, + A wretch, whose swiftness was his only fame; + By Hector sent our forces to explore, + He now lies headless on the sandy shore." + + Then o'er the trench the bounding coursers flew; + The joyful Greeks with loud acclaim pursue. + Straight to Tydides' high pavilion borne, + The matchless steeds his ample stalls adorn: + The neighing coursers their new fellows greet, + And the full racks are heap'd with generous wheat. + But Dolon's armour, to his ships convey'd, + High on the painted stern Ulysses laid, + A trophy destin'd to the blue-eyed maid. + + Now from nocturnal sweat and sanguine stain + They cleanse their bodies in the neighb'ring main: + Then in the polished bath, refresh'd from toil, + Their joints they supple with dissolving oil, + In due repast indulge the genial hour, + And first to Pallas the libations pour: + They sit, rejoicing in her aid divine, + And the crown'd goblet foams with floods of wine. + + + + + +BOOK XI. + + +ARGUMENT + +THE THIRD BATTLE, AND THE ACTS OF AGAMEMNON. + +Agamemnon, having armed himself, leads the Grecians to battle; Hector +prepares the Trojans to receive them, while Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva +give the signals of war. Agamemnon bears all before him and Hector is +commanded by Jupiter (who sends Iris for that purpose) to decline the +engagement, till the king shall be wounded and retire from the field. He +then makes a great slaughter of the enemy. Ulysses and Diomed put a stop +to him for a time but the latter, being wounded by Paris, is obliged to +desert his companion, who is encompassed by the Trojans, wounded, and in +the utmost danger, till Menelaus and Ajax rescue him. Hector comes against +Ajax, but that hero alone opposes multitudes, and rallies the Greeks. In +the meantime Machaon, in the other wing of the army, is pierced with an +arrow by Paris, and carried from the fight in Nestor's chariot. Achilles +(who overlooked the action from his ship) sent Patroclus to inquire which +of the Greeks was wounded in that manner; Nestor entertains him in his +tent with an account of the accidents of the day, and a long recital of +some former wars which he remembered, tending to put Patroclus upon +persuading Achilles to fight for his countrymen, or at least to permit him +to do it, clad in Achilles' armour. Patroclus, on his return, meets +Eurypylus also wounded, and assists him in that distress. + +This book opens with the eight and-twentieth day of the poem, and the same +day, with its various actions and adventures is extended through the +twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, and +part of the eighteenth books. The scene lies in the field near the +monument of Ilus. + + The saffron morn, with early blushes spread,(219) + Now rose refulgent from Tithonus' bed; + With new-born day to gladden mortal sight, + And gild the courts of heaven with sacred light: + When baleful Eris, sent by Jove's command, + The torch of discord blazing in her hand, + Through the red skies her bloody sign extends, + And, wrapt in tempests, o'er the fleet descends. + High on Ulysses' bark her horrid stand + She took, and thunder'd through the seas and land. + + Even Ajax and Achilles heard the sound, + Whose ships, remote, the guarded navy bound, + Thence the black fury through the Grecian throng + With horror sounds the loud Orthian song: + The navy shakes, and at the dire alarms + Each bosom boils, each warrior starts to arms. + No more they sigh, inglorious to return, + But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn. + + [Illustration: THE DESCENT OF DISCORD.] + + THE DESCENT OF DISCORD. + + + The king of men his hardy host inspires + With loud command, with great example fires! + Himself first rose, himself before the rest + His mighty limbs in radiant armour dress'd, + And first he cased his manly legs around + In shining greaves with silver buckles bound; + The beaming cuirass next adorn'd his breast, + The same which once king Cinyras possess'd: + (The fame of Greece and her assembled host + Had reach'd that monarch on the Cyprian coast; + 'Twas then, the friendship of the chief to gain, + This glorious gift he sent, nor sent in vain:) + Ten rows of azure steel the work infold, + Twice ten of tin, and twelve of ductile gold; + Three glittering dragons to the gorget rise, + Whose imitated scales against the skies + Reflected various light, and arching bow'd, + Like colour'd rainbows o'er a showery cloud + (Jove's wondrous bow, of three celestial dies, + Placed as a sign to man amidst the skies). + A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder tied, + Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his side: + Gold was the hilt, a silver sheath encased + The shining blade, and golden hangers graced. + His buckler's mighty orb was next display'd, + That round the warrior cast a dreadful shade; + Ten zones of brass its ample brim surround, + And twice ten bosses the bright convex crown'd: + Tremendous Gorgon frown'd upon its field, + And circling terrors fill'd the expressive shield: + Within its concave hung a silver thong, + On which a mimic serpent creeps along, + His azure length in easy waves extends, + Till in three heads the embroider'd monster ends. + Last o'er his brows his fourfold helm he placed, + With nodding horse-hair formidably graced; + And in his hands two steely javelins wields, + That blaze to heaven, and lighten all the fields. + + That instant Juno, and the martial maid, + In happy thunders promised Greece their aid; + High o'er the chief they clash'd their arms in air, + And, leaning from the clouds, expect the war. + + Close to the limits of the trench and mound, + The fiery coursers to their chariots bound + The squires restrain'd: the foot, with those who wield + The lighter arms, rush forward to the field. + To second these, in close array combined, + The squadrons spread their sable wings behind. + Now shouts and tumults wake the tardy sun, + As with the light the warriors' toils begun. + Even Jove, whose thunder spoke his wrath, distill'd + Red drops of blood o'er all the fatal field;(220) + The woes of men unwilling to survey, + And all the slaughters that must stain the day. + + Near Ilus' tomb, in order ranged around, + The Trojan lines possess'd the rising ground: + There wise Polydamas and Hector stood; + AEneas, honour'd as a guardian god; + Bold Polybus, Agenor the divine; + The brother-warriors of Antenor's line: + With youthful Acamas, whose beauteous face + And fair proportion match'd the ethereal race. + Great Hector, cover'd with his spacious shield, + Plies all the troops, and orders all the field. + As the red star now shows his sanguine fires + Through the dark clouds, and now in night retires, + Thus through the ranks appear'd the godlike man, + Plunged in the rear, or blazing in the van; + While streamy sparkles, restless as he flies, + Flash from his arms, as lightning from the skies. + As sweating reapers in some wealthy field, + Ranged in two bands, their crooked weapons wield, + Bear down the furrows, till their labours meet; + Thick fall the heapy harvests at their feet: + So Greece and Troy the field of war divide, + And falling ranks are strow'd on every side. + None stoop'd a thought to base inglorious flight;(221) + But horse to horse, and man to man they fight, + Not rabid wolves more fierce contest their prey; + Each wounds, each bleeds, but none resign the day. + Discord with joy the scene of death descries, + And drinks large slaughter at her sanguine eyes: + Discord alone, of all the immortal train, + Swells the red horrors of this direful plain: + The gods in peace their golden mansions fill, + Ranged in bright order on the Olympian hill: + But general murmurs told their griefs above, + And each accused the partial will of Jove. + Meanwhile apart, superior, and alone, + The eternal Monarch, on his awful throne, + Wrapt in the blaze of boundless glory sate; + And fix'd, fulfill'd the just decrees of fate. + On earth he turn'd his all-considering eyes, + And mark'd the spot where Ilion's towers arise; + The sea with ships, the fields with armies spread, + The victor's rage, the dying, and the dead. + + Thus while the morning-beams, increasing bright, + O'er heaven's pure azure spread the glowing light, + Commutual death the fate of war confounds, + Each adverse battle gored with equal wounds. + But now (what time in some sequester'd vale + The weary woodman spreads his sparing meal, + When his tired arms refuse the axe to rear, + And claim a respite from the sylvan war; + But not till half the prostrate forests lay + Stretch'd in long ruin, and exposed to day) + Then, nor till then, the Greeks' impulsive might + Pierced the black phalanx, and let in the light. + Great Agamemnon then the slaughter led, + And slew Bienor at his people's head: + Whose squire Oileus, with a sudden spring, + Leap'd from the chariot to revenge his king; + But in his front he felt the fatal wound, + Which pierced his brain, and stretch'd him on the ground. + Atrides spoil'd, and left them on the plain: + Vain was their youth, their glittering armour vain: + Now soil'd with dust, and naked to the sky, + Their snowy limbs and beauteous bodies lie. + + Two sons of Priam next to battle move, + The product, one of marriage, one of love:(222) + In the same car the brother-warriors ride; + This took the charge to combat, that to guide: + Far other task, than when they wont to keep, + On Ida's tops, their father's fleecy sheep. + These on the mountains once Achilles found, + And captive led, with pliant osiers bound; + Then to their sire for ample sums restored; + But now to perish by Atrides' sword: + Pierced in the breast the base-born Isus bleeds: + Cleft through the head his brother's fate succeeds, + Swift to the spoil the hasty victor falls, + And, stript, their features to his mind recalls. + The Trojans see the youths untimely die, + But helpless tremble for themselves, and fly. + So when a lion ranging o'er the lawns. + Finds, on some grassy lair, the couching fawns, + Their bones he cracks, their reeking vitals draws, + And grinds the quivering flesh with bloody jaws; + The frighted hind beholds, and dares not stay, + But swift through rustling thickets bursts her way; + All drown'd in sweat, the panting mother flies, + And the big tears roll trickling from her eyes. + + Amidst the tumult of the routed train, + The sons of false Antimachus were slain; + He who for bribes his faithless counsels sold, + And voted Helen's stay for Paris' gold. + Atrides mark'd, as these their safety sought, + And slew the children for the father's fault; + Their headstrong horse unable to restrain, + They shook with fear, and dropp'd the silken rein; + Then in the chariot on their knees they fall, + And thus with lifted hands for mercy call: + + "O spare our youth, and for the life we owe, + Antimachus shall copious gifts bestow: + Soon as he hears, that, not in battle slain, + The Grecian ships his captive sons detain, + Large heaps of brass in ransom shall be told, + And steel well-tempered, and persuasive gold." + + These words, attended with the flood of tears, + The youths address'd to unrelenting ears: + The vengeful monarch gave this stern reply: + "If from Antimachus ye spring, ye die; + The daring wretch who once in council stood + To shed Ulysses' and my brother's blood, + For proffer'd peace! and sues his seed for grace? + No, die, and pay the forfeit of your race." + + This said, Pisander from the car he cast, + And pierced his breast: supine he breathed his last. + His brother leap'd to earth; but, as he lay, + The trenchant falchion lopp'd his hands away; + His sever'd head was toss'd among the throng, + And, rolling, drew a bloody train along. + Then, where the thickest fought, the victor flew; + The king's example all his Greeks pursue. + Now by the foot the flying foot were slain, + Horse trod by horse, lay foaming on the plain. + From the dry fields thick clouds of dust arise, + Shade the black host, and intercept the skies. + The brass-hoof'd steeds tumultuous plunge and bound, + And the thick thunder beats the labouring ground, + Still slaughtering on, the king of men proceeds; + The distanced army wonders at his deeds, + As when the winds with raging flames conspire, + And o'er the forests roll the flood of fire, + In blazing heaps the grove's old honours fall, + And one refulgent ruin levels all: + Before Atrides' rage so sinks the foe, + Whole squadrons vanish, and proud heads lie low. + The steeds fly trembling from his waving sword, + And many a car, now lighted of its lord, + Wide o'er the field with guideless fury rolls, + Breaking their ranks, and crushing out their souls; + While his keen falchion drinks the warriors' lives; + More grateful, now, to vultures than their wives! + + Perhaps great Hector then had found his fate, + But Jove and destiny prolong'd his date. + Safe from the darts, the care of heaven he stood, + Amidst alarms, and death, and dust, and blood. + + Now past the tomb where ancient Ilus lay, + Through the mid field the routed urge their way: + Where the wild figs the adjoining summit crown, + The path they take, and speed to reach the town. + As swift, Atrides with loud shouts pursued, + Hot with his toil, and bathed in hostile blood. + Now near the beech-tree, and the Scaean gates, + The hero halts, and his associates waits. + Meanwhile on every side around the plain, + Dispersed, disorder'd, fly the Trojan train. + So flies a herd of beeves, that hear dismay'd + The lion's roaring through the midnight shade; + On heaps they tumble with successless haste; + The savage seizes, draws, and rends the last. + Not with less fury stem Atrides flew, + Still press'd the rout, and still the hindmost slew; + Hurl'd from their cars the bravest chiefs are kill'd, + And rage, and death, and carnage load the field. + + Now storms the victor at the Trojan wall; + Surveys the towers, and meditates their fall. + But Jove descending shook the Idaean hills, + And down their summits pour'd a hundred rills: + The unkindled lightning in his hand he took, + And thus the many-coloured maid bespoke: + + "Iris, with haste thy golden wings display, + To godlike Hector this our word convey-- + While Agamemnon wastes the ranks around, + Fights in the front, and bathes with blood the ground, + Bid him give way; but issue forth commands, + And trust the war to less important hands: + But when, or wounded by the spear or dart, + That chief shall mount his chariot, and depart, + Then Jove shall string his arm, and fire his breast, + Then to her ships shall flying Greece be press'd, + Till to the main the burning sun descend, + And sacred night her awful shade extend." + + He spoke, and Iris at his word obey'd; + On wings of winds descends the various maid. + The chief she found amidst the ranks of war, + Close to the bulwarks, on his glittering car. + The goddess then: "O son of Priam, hear! + From Jove I come, and his high mandate bear. + While Agamemnon wastes the ranks around, + Fights in the front, and bathes with blood the ground, + Abstain from fight; yet issue forth commands, + And trust the war to less important hands: + But when, or wounded by the spear or dart, + The chief shall mount his chariot, and depart, + Then Jove shall string thy arm, and fire thy breast, + Then to her ships shall flying Greece be press'd, + Till to the main the burning sun descend, + And sacred night her awful shade extend." + + She said, and vanish'd. Hector, with a bound, + Springs from his chariot on the trembling ground, + In clanging arms: he grasps in either hand + A pointed lance, and speeds from band to band; + Revives their ardour, turns their steps from flight, + And wakes anew the dying flames of fight. + They stand to arms: the Greeks their onset dare, + Condense their powers, and wait the coming war. + New force, new spirit, to each breast returns; + The fight renew'd with fiercer fury burns: + The king leads on: all fix on him their eye, + And learn from him to conquer, or to die. + + Ye sacred nine! celestial Muses! tell, + Who faced him first, and by his prowess fell? + The great Iphidamas, the bold and young, + From sage Antenor and Theano sprung; + Whom from his youth his grandsire Cisseus bred, + And nursed in Thrace where snowy flocks are fed. + Scarce did the down his rosy cheeks invest, + And early honour warm his generous breast, + When the kind sire consign'd his daughter's charms + (Theano's sister) to his youthful arms. + But call'd by glory to the wars of Troy, + He leaves untasted the first fruits of joy; + From his loved bride departs with melting eyes, + And swift to aid his dearer country flies. + With twelve black ships he reach'd Percope's strand, + Thence took the long laborious march by land. + Now fierce for fame, before the ranks he springs, + Towering in arms, and braves the king of kings. + Atrides first discharged the missive spear; + The Trojan stoop'd, the javelin pass'd in air. + Then near the corslet, at the monarch's heart, + With all his strength, the youth directs his dart: + But the broad belt, with plates of silver bound, + The point rebated, and repell'd the wound. + Encumber'd with the dart, Atrides stands, + Till, grasp'd with force, he wrench'd it from his hands; + At once his weighty sword discharged a wound + Full on his neck, that fell'd him to the ground. + Stretch'd in the dust the unhappy warrior lies, + And sleep eternal seals his swimming eyes. + Oh worthy better fate! oh early slain! + Thy country's friend; and virtuous, though in vain! + No more the youth shall join his consort's side, + At once a virgin, and at once a bride! + No more with presents her embraces meet, + Or lay the spoils of conquest at her feet, + On whom his passion, lavish of his store, + Bestow'd so much, and vainly promised more! + Unwept, uncover'd, on the plain he lay, + While the proud victor bore his arms away. + + Coon, Antenor's eldest hope, was nigh: + Tears, at the sight, came starting from his eye, + While pierced with grief the much-loved youth he view'd, + And the pale features now deform'd with blood. + Then, with his spear, unseen, his time he took, + Aim'd at the king, and near his elbow strook. + The thrilling steel transpierced the brawny part, + And through his arm stood forth the barbed dart. + Surprised the monarch feels, yet void of fear + On Coon rushes with his lifted spear: + His brother's corpse the pious Trojan draws, + And calls his country to assert his cause; + Defends him breathless on the sanguine field, + And o'er the body spreads his ample shield. + Atrides, marking an unguarded part, + Transfix'd the warrior with his brazen dart; + Prone on his brother's bleeding breast he lay, + The monarch's falchion lopp'd his head away: + The social shades the same dark journey go, + And join each other in the realms below. + + The vengeful victor rages round the fields, + With every weapon art or fury yields: + By the long lance, the sword, or ponderous stone, + Whole ranks are broken, and whole troops o'erthrown. + This, while yet warm distill'd the purple flood; + But when the wound grew stiff with clotted blood, + Then grinding tortures his strong bosom rend, + Less keen those darts the fierce Ilythiae send: + (The powers that cause the teeming matron's throes, + Sad mothers of unutterable woes!) + Stung with the smart, all-panting with the pain, + He mounts the car, and gives his squire the rein; + Then with a voice which fury made more strong, + And pain augmented, thus exhorts the throng: + + "O friends! O Greeks! assert your honours won; + Proceed, and finish what this arm begun: + Lo! angry Jove forbids your chief to stay, + And envies half the glories of the day." + + He said: the driver whirls his lengthful thong; + The horses fly; the chariot smokes along. + Clouds from their nostrils the fierce coursers blow, + And from their sides the foam descends in snow; + Shot through the battle in a moment's space, + The wounded monarch at his tent they place. + + No sooner Hector saw the king retired, + But thus his Trojans and his aids he fired: + "Hear, all ye Dardan, all ye Lycian race! + Famed in close fight, and dreadful face to face: + Now call to mind your ancient trophies won, + Your great forefathers' virtues, and your own. + Behold, the general flies! deserts his powers! + Lo, Jove himself declares the conquest ours! + Now on yon ranks impel your foaming steeds; + And, sure of glory, dare immortal deeds." + + Writh words like these the fiery chief alarms + His fainting host, and every bosom warms. + As the bold hunter cheers his hounds to tear + The brindled lion, or the tusky bear: + With voice and hand provokes their doubting heart, + And springs the foremost with his lifted dart: + So godlike Hector prompts his troops to dare; + Nor prompts alone, but leads himself the war. + On the black body of the foe he pours; + As from the cloud's deep bosom, swell'd with showers, + A sudden storm the purple ocean sweeps, + Drives the wild waves, and tosses all the deeps. + Say, Muse! when Jove the Trojan's glory crown'd, + Beneath his arm what heroes bit the ground? + Assaeus, Dolops, and Autonous died, + Opites next was added to their side; + Then brave Hipponous, famed in many a fight, + Opheltius, Orus, sunk to endless night; + AEsymnus, Agelaus; all chiefs of name; + The rest were vulgar deaths unknown to fame. + As when a western whirlwind, charged with storms, + Dispels the gather'd clouds that Notus forms: + The gust continued, violent and strong, + Rolls sable clouds in heaps on heaps along; + Now to the skies the foaming billows rears, + Now breaks the surge, and wide the bottom bares: + Thus, raging Hector, with resistless hands, + O'erturns, confounds, and scatters all their bands. + Now the last ruin the whole host appals; + Now Greece had trembled in her wooden walls; + But wise Ulysses call'd Tydides forth, + His soul rekindled, and awaked his worth. + "And stand we deedless, O eternal shame! + Till Hector's arm involve the ships in flame? + Haste, let us join, and combat side by side." + The warrior thus, and thus the friend replied: + + "No martial toil I shun, no danger fear; + Let Hector come; I wait his fury here. + But Jove with conquest crowns the Trojan train: + And, Jove our foe, all human force is vain." + + He sigh'd; but, sighing, raised his vengeful steel, + And from his car the proud Thymbraeus fell: + Molion, the charioteer, pursued his lord, + His death ennobled by Ulysses' sword. + There slain, they left them in eternal night, + Then plunged amidst the thickest ranks of fight. + So two wild boars outstrip the following hounds, + Then swift revert, and wounds return for wounds. + Stern Hector's conquests in the middle plain + Stood check'd awhile, and Greece respired again. + + The sons of Merops shone amidst the war; + Towering they rode in one refulgent car: + In deep prophetic arts their father skill'd, + Had warn'd his children from the Trojan field. + Fate urged them on: the father warn'd in vain; + They rush'd to fight, and perish'd on the plain; + Their breasts no more the vital spirit warms; + The stern Tydides strips their shining arms. + Hypirochus by great Ulysses dies, + And rich Hippodamus becomes his prize. + Great Jove from Ide with slaughter fills his sight, + And level hangs the doubtful scale of fight. + By Tydeus' lance Agastrophus was slain, + The far-famed hero of Paeonian strain; + Wing'd with his fears, on foot he strove to fly, + His steeds too distant, and the foe too nigh: + Through broken orders, swifter than the wind, + He fled, but flying left his life behind. + This Hector sees, as his experienced eyes + Traverse the files, and to the rescue flies; + Shouts, as he pass'd, the crystal regions rend, + And moving armies on his march attend. + Great Diomed himself was seized with fear, + And thus bespoke his brother of the war: + + "Mark how this way yon bending squadrons yield! + The storm rolls on, and Hector rules the field: + Here stand his utmost force."--The warrior said; + Swift at the word his ponderous javelin fled; + Nor miss'd its aim, but where the plumage danced + Razed the smooth cone, and thence obliquely glanced. + Safe in his helm (the gift of Phoebus' hands) + Without a wound the Trojan hero stands; + But yet so stunn'd, that, staggering on the plain. + His arm and knee his sinking bulk sustain; + O'er his dim sight the misty vapours rise, + And a short darkness shades his swimming eyes. + Tydides followed to regain his lance; + While Hector rose, recover'd from the trance, + Remounts his car, and herds amidst the crowd: + The Greek pursues him, and exults aloud: + "Once more thank Phoebus for thy forfeit breath, + Or thank that swiftness which outstrips the death. + Well by Apollo are thy prayers repaid, + And oft that partial power has lent his aid. + Thou shall not long the death deserved withstand, + If any god assist Tydides' hand. + Fly then, inglorious! but thy flight, this day, + Whole hecatombs of Trojan ghosts shall pay," + + Him, while he triumph'd, Paris eyed from far, + (The spouse of Helen, the fair cause of war;) + Around the fields his feather'd shafts he sent, + From ancient Ilus' ruin'd monument: + Behind the column placed, he bent his bow, + And wing'd an arrow at the unwary foe; + Just as he stoop'd, Agastrophus's crest + To seize, and drew the corslet from his breast, + The bowstring twang'd; nor flew the shaft in vain, + But pierced his foot, and nail'd it to the plain. + The laughing Trojan, with a joyful spring. + Leaps from his ambush, and insults the king. + + "He bleeds! (he cries) some god has sped my dart! + Would the same god had fix'd it in his heart! + So Troy, relieved from that wide-wasting hand, + Should breathe from slaughter and in combat stand: + Whose sons now tremble at his darted spear, + As scatter'd lambs the rushing lion fear." + + He dauntless thus: "Thou conqueror of the fair, + Thou woman-warrior with the curling hair; + Vain archer! trusting to the distant dart, + Unskill'd in arms to act a manly part! + Thou hast but done what boys or women can; + Such hands may wound, but not incense a man. + Nor boast the scratch thy feeble arrow gave, + A coward's weapon never hurts the brave. + Not so this dart, which thou may'st one day feel; + Fate wings its flight, and death is on the steel: + Where this but lights, some noble life expires; + Its touch makes orphans, bathes the cheeks of sires, + Steeps earth in purple, gluts the birds of air, + And leaves such objects as distract the fair." + Ulysses hastens with a trembling heart, + Before him steps, and bending draws the dart: + Forth flows the blood; an eager pang succeeds; + Tydides mounts, and to the navy speeds. + + Now on the field Ulysses stands alone, + The Greeks all fled, the Trojans pouring on; + But stands collected in himself, and whole, + And questions thus his own unconquer'd soul: + + "What further subterfuge, what hopes remain? + What shame, inglorious if I quit the plain? + What danger, singly if I stand the ground, + My friends all scatter'd, all the foes around? + Yet wherefore doubtful? let this truth suffice, + The brave meets danger, and the coward flies. + To die or conquer, proves a hero's heart; + And, knowing this, I know a soldier's part." + + Such thoughts revolving in his careful breast, + Near, and more near, the shady cohorts press'd; + These, in the warrior, their own fate enclose; + And round him deep the steely circle grows. + So fares a boar whom all the troop surrounds + Of shouting huntsmen and of clamorous hounds; + He grinds his ivory tusks; he foams with ire; + His sanguine eye-balls glare with living fire; + By these, by those, on every part is plied; + And the red slaughter spreads on every side. + Pierced through the shoulder, first Deiopis fell; + Next Ennomus and Thoon sank to hell; + Chersidamas, beneath the navel thrust, + Falls prone to earth, and grasps the bloody dust. + Charops, the son of Hippasus, was near; + Ulysses reach'd him with the fatal spear; + But to his aid his brother Socus flies, + Socus the brave, the generous, and the wise. + Near as he drew, the warrior thus began: + + "O great Ulysses! much-enduring man! + Not deeper skill'd in every martial sleight, + Than worn to toils, and active in the fight! + This day two brothers shall thy conquest grace, + And end at once the great Hippasian race, + Or thou beneath this lance must press the field." + He said, and forceful pierced his spacious shield: + Through the strong brass the ringing javelin thrown, + Plough'd half his side, and bared it to the bone. + By Pallas' care, the spear, though deep infix'd, + Stopp'd short of life, nor with his entrails mix'd. + + The wound not mortal wise Ulysses knew, + Then furious thus (but first some steps withdrew): + "Unhappy man! whose death our hands shall grace, + Fate calls thee hence and finish'd is thy race. + Nor longer check my conquests on the foe; + But, pierced by this, to endless darkness go, + And add one spectre to the realms below!" + + He spoke, while Socus, seized with sudden fright, + Trembling gave way, and turn'd his back to flight; + Between his shoulders pierced the following dart, + And held its passage through the panting heart: + Wide in his breast appear'd the grisly wound; + He falls; his armour rings against the ground. + Then thus Ulysses, gazing on the slain: + "Famed son of Hippasus! there press the plain; + There ends thy narrow span assign'd by fate, + Heaven owes Ulysses yet a longer date. + Ah, wretch! no father shall thy corpse compose; + Thy dying eyes no tender mother close; + But hungry birds shall tear those balls away, + And hovering vultures scream around their prey. + Me Greece shall honour, when I meet my doom, + With solemn funerals and a lasting tomb." + + Then raging with intolerable smart, + He writhes his body, and extracts the dart. + The dart a tide of spouting gore pursued, + And gladden'd Troy with sight of hostile blood. + Now troops on troops the fainting chief invade, + Forced he recedes, and loudly calls for aid. + Thrice to its pitch his lofty voice he rears; + The well-known voice thrice Menelaus hears: + Alarm'd, to Ajax Telamon he cried, + Who shares his labours, and defends his side: + "O friend! Ulysses' shouts invade my ear; + Distressed he seems, and no assistance near; + Strong as he is, yet one opposed to all, + Oppress'd by multitudes, the best may fall. + Greece robb'd of him must bid her host despair, + And feel a loss not ages can repair." + + Then, where the cry directs, his course he bends; + Great Ajax, like the god of war, attends, + The prudent chief in sore distress they found, + With bands of furious Trojans compass'd round.(223) + As when some huntsman, with a flying spear, + From the blind thicket wounds a stately deer; + Down his cleft side, while fresh the blood distils, + He bounds aloft, and scuds from hills to hills, + Till life's warm vapour issuing through the wound, + Wild mountain-wolves the fainting beast surround: + Just as their jaws his prostrate limbs invade, + The lion rushes through the woodland shade, + The wolves, though hungry, scour dispersed away; + The lordly savage vindicates his prey. + Ulysses thus, unconquer'd by his pains, + A single warrior half a host sustains: + But soon as Ajax leaves his tower-like shield, + The scattered crowds fly frighted o'er the field; + Atrides' arm the sinking hero stays, + And, saved from numbers, to his car conveys. + + Victorious Ajax plies the routed crew; + And first Doryclus, Priam's son, he slew, + On strong Pandocus next inflicts a wound, + And lays Lysander bleeding on the ground. + As when a torrent, swell'd with wintry rains, + Pours from the mountains o'er the deluged plains, + And pines and oaks, from their foundations torn, + A country's ruins! to the seas are borne: + Fierce Ajax thus o'erwhelms the yielding throng; + Men, steeds, and chariots, roll in heaps along. + + But Hector, from this scene of slaughter far, + Raged on the left, and ruled the tide of war: + Loud groans proclaim his progress through the plain, + And deep Scamander swells with heaps of slain. + There Nestor and Idomeneus oppose + The warrior's fury; there the battle glows; + There fierce on foot, or from the chariot's height, + His sword deforms the beauteous ranks of fight. + The spouse of Helen, dealing darts around, + Had pierced Machaon with a distant wound: + In his right shoulder the broad shaft appear'd, + And trembling Greece for her physician fear'd. + To Nestor then Idomeneus begun: + "Glory of Greece, old Neleus' valiant son! + Ascend thy chariot, haste with speed away, + And great Machaon to the ships convey; + A wise physician skill'd our wounds to heal, + Is more than armies to the public weal." + Old Nestor mounts the seat; beside him rode + The wounded offspring of the healing god. + He lends the lash; the steeds with sounding feet + Shake the dry field, and thunder toward the fleet. + + But now Cebriones, from Hector's car, + Survey'd the various fortune of the war: + "While here (he cried) the flying Greeks are slain, + Trojans on Trojans yonder load the plain. + Before great Ajax see the mingled throng + Of men and chariots driven in heaps along! + I know him well, distinguish'd o'er the field + By the broad glittering of the sevenfold shield. + Thither, O Hector, thither urge thy steeds, + There danger calls, and there the combat bleeds; + There horse and foot in mingled deaths unite, + And groans of slaughter mix with shouts of fight." + + Thus having spoke, the driver's lash resounds; + Swift through the ranks the rapid chariot bounds; + Stung by the stroke, the coursers scour the fields, + O'er heaps of carcases, and hills of shields. + The horses' hoofs are bathed in heroes' gore, + And, dashing, purple all the car before; + The groaning axle sable drops distils, + And mangled carnage clogs the rapid wheels. + Here Hector, plunging through the thickest fight, + Broke the dark phalanx, and let in the light: + (By the long lance, the sword, or ponderous stone. + The ranks he scatter'd and the troops o'erthrown:) + Ajax he shuns, through all the dire debate, + And fears that arm whose force he felt so late. + But partial Jove, espousing Hector's part, + Shot heaven-bred horror through the Grecian's heart; + Confused, unnerved in Hector's presence grown, + Amazed he stood, with terrors not his own. + O'er his broad back his moony shield he threw, + And, glaring round, by tardy steps withdrew. + Thus the grim lion his retreat maintains, + Beset with watchful dogs, and shouting swains; + Repulsed by numbers from the nightly stalls, + Though rage impels him, and though hunger calls, + Long stands the showering darts, and missile fires; + Then sourly slow the indignant beast retires: + So turn'd stern Ajax, by whole hosts repell'd, + While his swoln heart at every step rebell'd. + + As the slow beast, with heavy strength endued, + In some wide field by troops of boys pursued, + Though round his sides a wooden tempest rain, + Crops the tall harvest, and lays waste the plain; + Thick on his hide the hollow blows resound, + The patient animal maintains his ground, + Scarce from the field with all their efforts chased, + And stirs but slowly when he stirs at last: + On Ajax thus a weight of Trojans hung, + The strokes redoubled on his buckler rung; + Confiding now in bulky strength he stands, + Now turns, and backward bears the yielding bands; + Now stiff recedes, yet hardly seems to fly, + And threats his followers with retorted eye. + Fix'd as the bar between two warring powers, + While hissing darts descend in iron showers: + In his broad buckler many a weapon stood, + Its surface bristled with a quivering wood; + And many a javelin, guiltless on the plain, + Marks the dry dust, and thirsts for blood in vain. + But bold Eurypylus his aid imparts, + And dauntless springs beneath a cloud of darts; + Whose eager javelin launch'd against the foe, + Great Apisaon felt the fatal blow; + From his torn liver the red current flow'd, + And his slack knees desert their dying load. + The victor rushing to despoil the dead, + From Paris' bow a vengeful arrow fled; + Fix'd in his nervous thigh the weapon stood, + Fix'd was the point, but broken was the wood. + Back to the lines the wounded Greek retired, + Yet thus retreating, his associates fired: + + "What god, O Grecians! has your hearts dismay'd? + Oh, turn to arms; 'tis Ajax claims your aid. + This hour he stands the mark of hostile rage, + And this the last brave battle he shall wage: + Haste, join your forces; from the gloomy grave + The warrior rescue, and your country save." + Thus urged the chief: a generous troop appears, + Who spread their bucklers, and advance their spears, + To guard their wounded friend: while thus they stand + With pious care, great Ajax joins the band: + Each takes new courage at the hero's sight; + The hero rallies, and renews the fight. + + Thus raged both armies like conflicting fires, + While Nestor's chariot far from fight retires: + His coursers steep'd in sweat, and stain'd with gore, + The Greeks' preserver, great Machaon, bore. + That hour Achilles, from the topmost height + Of his proud fleet, o'erlook'd the fields of fight; + His feasted eyes beheld around the plain + The Grecian rout, the slaying, and the slain. + His friend Machaon singled from the rest, + A transient pity touch'd his vengeful breast. + Straight to Menoetius' much-loved son he sent: + Graceful as Mars, Patroclus quits his tent; + In evil hour! Then fate decreed his doom, + And fix'd the date of all his woes to come. + + "Why calls my friend? thy loved injunctions lay; + Whate'er thy will, Patroclus shall obey." + + "O first of friends! (Pelides thus replied) + Still at my heart, and ever at my side! + The time is come, when yon despairing host + Shall learn the value of the man they lost: + Now at my knees the Greeks shall pour their moan, + And proud Atrides tremble on his throne. + Go now to Nestor, and from him be taught + What wounded warrior late his chariot brought: + For, seen at distance, and but seen behind, + His form recall'd Machaon to my mind; + Nor could I, through yon cloud, discern his face, + The coursers pass'd me with so swift a pace." + + The hero said. His friend obey'd with haste, + Through intermingled ships and tents he pass'd; + The chiefs descending from their car he found: + The panting steeds Eurymedon unbound. + The warriors standing on the breezy shore, + To dry their sweat, and wash away the gore, + Here paused a moment, while the gentle gale + Convey'd that freshness the cool seas exhale; + Then to consult on farther methods went, + And took their seats beneath the shady tent. + The draught prescribed, fair Hecamede prepares, + Arsinous' daughter, graced with golden hairs: + (Whom to his aged arms, a royal slave, + Greece, as the prize of Nestor's wisdom gave:) + A table first with azure feet she placed; + Whose ample orb a brazen charger graced; + Honey new-press'd, the sacred flour of wheat, + And wholesome garlic, crown'd the savoury treat, + Next her white hand an antique goblet brings, + A goblet sacred to the Pylian kings + From eldest times: emboss'd with studs of gold, + Two feet support it, and four handles hold; + On each bright handle, bending o'er the brink, + In sculptured gold, two turtles seem to drink: + A massy weight, yet heaved with ease by him, + When the brisk nectar overlook'd the brim. + Temper'd in this, the nymph of form divine + Pours a large portion of the Pramnian wine; + With goat's-milk cheese a flavourous taste bestows, + And last with flour the smiling surface strows: + This for the wounded prince the dame prepares: + The cordial beverage reverend Nestor shares: + Salubrious draughts the warriors' thirst allay, + And pleasing conference beguiles the day. + + Meantime Patroclus, by Achilles sent, + Unheard approached, and stood before the tent. + Old Nestor, rising then, the hero led + To his high seat: the chief refused and said: + + "'Tis now no season for these kind delays; + The great Achilles with impatience stays. + To great Achilles this respect I owe; + Who asks, what hero, wounded by the foe, + Was borne from combat by thy foaming steeds? + With grief I see the great Machaon bleeds. + This to report, my hasty course I bend; + Thou know'st the fiery temper of my friend." + "Can then the sons of Greece (the sage rejoin'd) + Excite compassion in Achilles' mind? + Seeks he the sorrows of our host to know? + This is not half the story of our woe. + Tell him, not great Machaon bleeds alone, + Our bravest heroes in the navy groan, + Ulysses, Agamemnon, Diomed, + And stern Eurypylus, already bleed. + But, ah! what flattering hopes I entertain! + Achilles heeds not, but derides our pain: + Even till the flames consume our fleet he stays, + And waits the rising of the fatal blaze. + Chief after chief the raging foe destroys; + Calm he looks on, and every death enjoys. + Now the slow course of all-impairing time + Unstrings my nerves, and ends my manly prime; + Oh! had I still that strength my youth possess'd, + When this bold arm the Epeian powers oppress'd, + The bulls of Elis in glad triumph led, + And stretch'd the great Itymonaeus dead! + Then from my fury fled the trembling swains, + And ours was all the plunder of the plains: + Fifty white flocks, full fifty herds of swine, + As many goats, as many lowing kine: + And thrice the number of unrivall'd steeds, + All teeming females, and of generous breeds. + These, as my first essay of arms, I won; + Old Neleus gloried in his conquering son. + Thus Elis forced, her long arrears restored, + And shares were parted to each Pylian lord. + The state of Pyle was sunk to last despair, + When the proud Elians first commenced the war: + For Neleus' sons Alcides' rage had slain; + Of twelve bold brothers, I alone remain! + Oppress'd, we arm'd; and now this conquest gain'd, + My sire three hundred chosen sheep obtain'd. + (That large reprisal he might justly claim, + For prize defrauded, and insulted fame, + When Elis' monarch, at the public course, + Detain'd his chariot, and victorious horse.) + The rest the people shared; myself survey'd + The just partition, and due victims paid. + Three days were past, when Elis rose to war, + With many a courser, and with many a car; + The sons of Actor at their army's head + (Young as they were) the vengeful squadrons led. + High on the rock fair Thryoessa stands, + Our utmost frontier on the Pylian lands: + Not far the streams of famed Alphaeus flow: + The stream they pass'd, and pitch'd their tents below. + Pallas, descending in the shades of night, + Alarms the Pylians and commands the fight. + Each burns for fame, and swells with martial pride, + Myself the foremost; but my sire denied; + Fear'd for my youth, exposed to stern alarms; + And stopp'd my chariot, and detain'd my arms. + My sire denied in vain: on foot I fled + Amidst our chariots; for the goddess led. + + "Along fair Arene's delightful plain + Soft Minyas rolls his waters to the main: + There, horse and foot, the Pylian troops unite, + And sheathed in arms, expect the dawning light. + Thence, ere the sun advanced his noon-day flame, + To great Alphaeus' sacred source we came. + There first to Jove our solemn rites were paid; + An untamed heifer pleased the blue-eyed maid; + A bull, Alphaeus; and a bull was slain + To the blue monarch of the watery main. + In arms we slept, beside the winding flood, + While round the town the fierce Epeians stood. + Soon as the sun, with all-revealing ray, + Flamed in the front of Heaven, and gave the day. + Bright scenes of arms, and works of war appear; + The nations meet; there Pylos, Elis here. + The first who fell, beneath my javelin bled; + King Augias' son, and spouse of Agamede: + (She that all simples' healing virtues knew, + And every herb that drinks the morning dew:) + I seized his car, the van of battle led; + The Epeians saw, they trembled, and they fled. + The foe dispersed, their bravest warrior kill'd, + Fierce as the whirlwind now I swept the field: + Full fifty captive chariots graced my train; + Two chiefs from each fell breathless to the plain. + Then Actor's sons had died, but Neptune shrouds + The youthful heroes in a veil of clouds. + O'er heapy shields, and o'er the prostrate throng, + Collecting spoils, and slaughtering all along, + Through wide Buprasian fields we forced the foes, + Where o'er the vales the Olenian rocks arose; + Till Pallas stopp'd us where Alisium flows. + Even there the hindmost of the rear I slay, + And the same arm that led concludes the day; + Then back to Pyle triumphant take my way. + There to high Jove were public thanks assign'd, + As first of gods; to Nestor, of mankind. + Such then I was, impell'd by youthful blood; + So proved my valour for my country's good. + + "Achilles with unactive fury glows, + And gives to passion what to Greece he owes. + How shall he grieve, when to the eternal shade + Her hosts shall sink, nor his the power to aid! + 0 friend! my memory recalls the day, + When, gathering aids along the Grecian sea, + I, and Ulysses, touch'd at Phthia's port, + And entered Peleus' hospitable court. + A bull to Jove he slew in sacrifice, + And pour'd libations on the flaming thighs. + Thyself, Achilles, and thy reverend sire + Menoetius, turn'd the fragments on the fire. + Achilles sees us, to the feast invites; + Social we sit, and share the genial rites. + We then explained the cause on which we came, + Urged you to arms, and found you fierce for fame. + Your ancient fathers generous precepts gave; + Peleus said only this:--'My son! be brave.' + Menoetius thus: 'Though great Achilles shine + In strength superior, and of race divine, + Yet cooler thoughts thy elder years attend; + Let thy just counsels aid, and rule thy friend.' + Thus spoke your father at Thessalia's court: + Words now forgot, though now of vast import. + Ah! try the utmost that a friend can say: + Such gentle force the fiercest minds obey; + Some favouring god Achilles' heart may move; + Though deaf to glory, he may yield to love. + If some dire oracle his breast alarm, + If aught from Heaven withhold his saving arm, + Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may shine, + If thou but lead the Myrmidonian line; + Clad in Achilles' arms, if thou appear, + Proud Troy may tremble, and desist from war; + Press'd by fresh forces, her o'er-labour'd train + Shall seek their walls, and Greece respire again." + + This touch'd his generous heart, and from the tent + Along the shore with hasty strides he went; + Soon as he came, where, on the crowded strand, + The public mart and courts of justice stand, + Where the tall fleet of great Ulysses lies, + And altars to the guardian gods arise; + There, sad, he met the brave Euaemon's son, + Large painful drops from all his members run; + An arrow's head yet rooted in his wound, + The sable blood in circles mark'd the ground. + As faintly reeling he confess'd the smart, + Weak was his pace, but dauntless was his heart. + Divine compassion touch'd Patroclus' breast, + Who, sighing, thus his bleeding friend address'd: + + "Ah, hapless leaders of the Grecian host! + Thus must ye perish on a barbarous coast? + Is this your fate, to glut the dogs with gore, + Far from your friends, and from your native shore? + Say, great Eurypylus! shall Greece yet stand? + Resists she yet the raging Hector's hand? + Or are her heroes doom'd to die with shame, + And this the period of our wars and fame?" + + Eurypylus replies: "No more, my friend; + Greece is no more! this day her glories end; + Even to the ships victorious Troy pursues, + Her force increasing as her toil renews. + Those chiefs, that used her utmost rage to meet, + Lie pierced with wounds, and bleeding in the fleet. + But, thou, Patroclus! act a friendly part, + Lead to my ships, and draw this deadly dart; + With lukewarm water wash the gore away; + With healing balms the raging smart allay, + Such as sage Chiron, sire of pharmacy, + Once taught Achilles, and Achilles thee. + Of two famed surgeons, Podalirius stands + This hour surrounded by the Trojan bands; + And great Machaon, wounded in his tent, + Now wants that succour which so oft he lent." + + To him the chief: "What then remains to do? + The event of things the gods alone can view. + Charged by Achilles' great command I fly, + And bear with haste the Pylian king's reply: + But thy distress this instant claims relief." + He said, and in his arms upheld the chief. + The slaves their master's slow approach survey'd, + And hides of oxen on the floor display'd: + There stretch'd at length the wounded hero lay; + Patroclus cut the forky steel away: + Then in his hands a bitter root he bruised; + The wound he wash'd, the styptic juice infused. + The closing flesh that instant ceased to glow, + The wound to torture, and the blood to flow. + + [Illustration: HERCULES.] + + HERCULES. + + + + + +BOOK XII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE BATTLE AT THE GRECIAN WALL. + +The Greeks having retired into their intrenchments, Hector attempts to +force them; but it proving impossible to pass the ditch, Polydamas advises +to quit their chariots, and manage the attack on foot. The Trojans follow +his counsel; and having divided their army into five bodies of foot, begin +the assault. But upon the signal of an eagle with a serpent in his talons, +which appeared on the left hand of the Trojans, Polydamas endeavours to +withdraw them again. This Hector opposes, and continues the attack; in +which, after many actions, Sarpedon makes the first breach in the wall. +Hector also, casting a stone of vast size, forces open one of the gates, +and enters at the head of his troops, who victoriously pursue the Grecians +even to their ships. + + While thus the hero's pious cares attend + The cure and safety of his wounded friend, + Trojans and Greeks with clashing shields engage, + And mutual deaths are dealt with mutual rage. + Nor long the trench or lofty walls oppose; + With gods averse the ill-fated works arose; + Their powers neglected, and no victim slain, + The walls were raised, the trenches sunk in vain. + + Without the gods, how short a period stands + The proudest monument of mortal hands! + This stood while Hector and Achilles raged. + While sacred Troy the warring hosts engaged; + But when her sons were slain, her city burn'd, + And what survived of Greece to Greece return'd; + Then Neptune and Apollo shook the shore, + Then Ida's summits pour'd their watery store; + Rhesus and Rhodius then unite their rills, + Caresus roaring down the stony hills, + AEsepus, Granicus, with mingled force, + And Xanthus foaming from his fruitful source; + And gulfy Simois, rolling to the main(224) + Helmets, and shields, and godlike heroes slain: + These, turn'd by Phoebus from their wonted ways, + Deluged the rampire nine continual days; + The weight of waters saps the yielding wall, + And to the sea the floating bulwarks fall. + Incessant cataracts the Thunderer pours, + And half the skies descend in sluicy showers. + The god of ocean, marching stern before, + With his huge trident wounds the trembling shore, + Vast stones and piles from their foundation heaves, + And whelms the smoky ruin in the waves. + Now smooth'd with sand, and levell'd by the flood, + No fragment tells where once the wonder stood; + In their old bounds the rivers roll again, + Shine 'twixt the hills, or wander o'er the plain.(225) + + But this the gods in later times perform; + As yet the bulwark stood, and braved the storm; + The strokes yet echoed of contending powers; + War thunder'd at the gates, and blood distain'd the towers. + Smote by the arm of Jove with dire dismay, + Close by their hollow ships the Grecians lay: + Hector's approach in every wind they hear, + And Hector's fury every moment fear. + He, like a whirlwind, toss'd the scattering throng, + Mingled the troops, and drove the field along. + So 'midst the dogs and hunters' daring bands, + Fierce of his might, a boar or lion stands; + Arm'd foes around a dreadful circle form, + And hissing javelins rain an iron storm: + His powers untamed, their bold assault defy, + And where he turns the rout disperse or die: + He foams, he glares, he bounds against them all, + And if he falls, his courage makes him fall. + With equal rage encompass'd Hector glows; + Exhorts his armies, and the trenches shows. + The panting steeds impatient fury breathe, + And snort and tremble at the gulf beneath; + Just at the brink they neigh, and paw the ground, + And the turf trembles, and the skies resound. + Eager they view'd the prospect dark and deep, + Vast was the leap, and headlong hung the steep; + The bottom bare, (a formidable show!) + And bristled thick with sharpen'd stakes below. + The foot alone this strong defence could force, + And try the pass impervious to the horse. + This saw Polydamas; who, wisely brave, + Restrain'd great Hector, and this counsel gave: + + "O thou, bold leader of the Trojan bands! + And you, confederate chiefs from foreign lands! + What entrance here can cumbrous chariots find, + The stakes beneath, the Grecian walls behind? + No pass through those, without a thousand wounds, + No space for combat in yon narrow bounds. + Proud of the favours mighty Jove has shown, + On certain dangers we too rashly run: + If 'tis will our haughty foes to tame, + Oh may this instant end the Grecian name! + Here, far from Argos, let their heroes fall, + And one great day destroy and bury all! + But should they turn, and here oppress our train, + What hopes, what methods of retreat remain? + Wedged in the trench, by our own troops confused, + In one promiscuous carnage crush'd and bruised, + All Troy must perish, if their arms prevail, + Nor shall a Trojan live to tell the tale. + Hear then, ye warriors! and obey with speed; + Back from the trenches let your steeds be led; + Then all alighting, wedged in firm array, + Proceed on foot, and Hector lead the way. + So Greece shall stoop before our conquering power, + And this (if Jove consent) her fatal hour." + + [Illustration: POLYDAMAS ADVISING HECTOR.] + + POLYDAMAS ADVISING HECTOR. + + + This counsel pleased: the godlike Hector sprung + Swift from his seat; his clanging armour rung. + The chief's example follow'd by his train, + Each quits his car, and issues on the plain, + By orders strict the charioteers enjoin'd + Compel the coursers to their ranks behind. + The forces part in five distinguish'd bands, + And all obey their several chiefs' commands. + The best and bravest in the first conspire, + Pant for the fight, and threat the fleet with fire: + Great Hector glorious in the van of these, + Polydamas, and brave Cebriones. + Before the next the graceful Paris shines, + And bold Alcathous, and Agenor joins. + The sons of Priam with the third appear, + Deiphobus, and Helenas the seer; + In arms with these the mighty Asius stood, + Who drew from Hyrtacus his noble blood, + And whom Arisba's yellow coursers bore, + The coursers fed on Selle's winding shore. + Antenor's sons the fourth battalion guide, + And great AEneas, born on fountful Ide. + Divine Sarpedon the last band obey'd, + Whom Glaucus and Asteropaeus aid. + Next him, the bravest, at their army's head, + But he more brave than all the hosts he led. + + Now with compacted shields in close array, + The moving legions speed their headlong way: + Already in their hopes they fire the fleet, + And see the Grecians gasping at their feet. + + While every Trojan thus, and every aid, + The advice of wise Polydamas obey'd, + Asius alone, confiding in his car, + His vaunted coursers urged to meet the war. + Unhappy hero! and advised in vain; + Those wheels returning ne'er shall mark the plain; + No more those coursers with triumphant joy + Restore their master to the gates of Troy! + Black death attends behind the Grecian wall, + And great Idomeneus shall boast thy fall! + Fierce to the left he drives, where from the plain + The flying Grecians strove their ships to gain; + Swift through the wall their horse and chariots pass'd, + The gates half-open'd to receive the last. + Thither, exulting in his force, he flies: + His following host with clamours rend the skies: + To plunge the Grecians headlong in the main, + Such their proud hopes; but all their hopes were vain! + + To guard the gates, two mighty chiefs attend, + Who from the Lapiths' warlike race descend; + This Polypoetes, great Perithous' heir, + And that Leonteus, like the god of war. + As two tall oaks, before the wall they rise; + Their roots in earth, their heads amidst the skies: + Whose spreading arms with leafy honours crown'd, + Forbid the tempest, and protect the ground; + High on the hills appears their stately form, + And their deep roots for ever brave the storm. + So graceful these, and so the shock they stand + Of raging Asius, and his furious band. + Orestes, Acamas, in front appear, + And OEnomaus and Thoon close the rear: + In vain their clamours shake the ambient fields, + In vain around them beat their hollow shields; + The fearless brothers on the Grecians call, + To guard their navies, and defend the wall. + Even when they saw Troy's sable troops impend, + And Greece tumultuous from her towers descend, + Forth from the portals rush'd the intrepid pair, + Opposed their breasts, and stood themselves the war. + So two wild boars spring furious from their den, + Roused with the cries of dogs and voice of men; + On every side the crackling trees they tear, + And root the shrubs, and lay the forest bare; + They gnash their tusks, with fire their eye-balls roll, + Till some wide wound lets out their mighty soul. + Around their heads the whistling javelins sung, + With sounding strokes their brazen targets rung; + Fierce was the fight, while yet the Grecian powers + Maintain'd the walls, and mann'd the lofty towers: + To save their fleet their last efforts they try, + And stones and darts in mingled tempests fly. + + As when sharp Boreas blows abroad, and brings + The dreary winter on his frozen wings; + Beneath the low-hung clouds the sheets of snow + Descend, and whiten all the fields below: + So fast the darts on either army pour, + So down the rampires rolls the rocky shower: + Heavy, and thick, resound the batter'd shields, + And the deaf echo rattles round the fields. + + With shame repulsed, with grief and fury driven, + The frantic Asius thus accuses Heaven: + "In powers immortal who shall now believe? + Can those too flatter, and can Jove deceive? + What man could doubt but Troy's victorious power + Should humble Greece, and this her fatal hour? + But like when wasps from hollow crannies drive, + To guard the entrance of their common hive, + Darkening the rock, while with unwearied wings + They strike the assailants, and infix their stings; + A race determined, that to death contend: + So fierce these Greeks their last retreats defend. + Gods! shall two warriors only guard their gates, + Repel an army, and defraud the fates?" + + These empty accents mingled with the wind, + Nor moved great Jove's unalterable mind; + To godlike Hector and his matchless might + Was owed the glory of the destined fight. + Like deeds of arms through all the forts were tried, + And all the gates sustain'd an equal tide; + Through the long walls the stony showers were heard, + The blaze of flames, the flash of arms appear'd. + The spirit of a god my breast inspire, + To raise each act to life, and sing with fire! + While Greece unconquer'd kept alive the war, + Secure of death, confiding in despair; + And all her guardian gods, in deep dismay, + With unassisting arms deplored the day. + + Even yet the dauntless Lapithae maintain + The dreadful pass, and round them heap the slain. + First Damasus, by Polypoetes' steel, + Pierced through his helmet's brazen visor, fell; + The weapon drank the mingled brains and gore! + The warrior sinks, tremendous now no more! + Next Ormenus and Pylon yield their breath: + Nor less Leonteus strews the field with death; + First through the belt Hippomachus he gored, + Then sudden waved his unresisted sword: + Antiphates, as through the ranks he broke, + The falchion struck, and fate pursued the stroke: + Iamenus, Orestes, Menon, bled; + And round him rose a monument of dead. + Meantime, the bravest of the Trojan crew, + Bold Hector and Polydamas, pursue; + Fierce with impatience on the works to fall, + And wrap in rolling flames the fleet and wall. + These on the farther bank now stood and gazed, + By Heaven alarm'd, by prodigies amazed: + A signal omen stopp'd the passing host, + Their martial fury in their wonder lost. + Jove's bird on sounding pinions beat the skies; + A bleeding serpent of enormous size, + His talons truss'd; alive, and curling round, + He stung the bird, whose throat received the wound: + Mad with the smart, he drops the fatal prey, + In airy circles wings his painful way, + Floats on the winds, and rends the heaven with cries: + Amidst the host the fallen serpent lies. + They, pale with terror, mark its spires unroll'd, + And Jove's portent with beating hearts behold. + Then first Polydamas the silence broke, + Long weigh'd the signal, and to Hector spoke: + + "How oft, my brother, thy reproach I bear, + For words well meant, and sentiments sincere? + True to those counsels which I judge the best, + I tell the faithful dictates of my breast. + To speak his thoughts is every freeman's right, + In peace, in war, in council, and in fight; + And all I move, deferring to thy sway, + But tends to raise that power which I obey. + Then hear my words, nor may my words be vain! + Seek not this day the Grecian ships to gain; + For sure, to warn us, Jove his omen sent, + And thus my mind explains its clear event: + The victor eagle, whose sinister flight + Retards our host, and fills our hearts with fright, + Dismiss'd his conquest in the middle skies, + Allow'd to seize, but not possess the prize; + Thus, though we gird with fires the Grecian fleet, + Though these proud bulwalks tumble at our feet, + Toils unforeseen, and fiercer, are decreed; + More woes shall follow, and more heroes bleed. + So bodes my soul, and bids me thus advise; + For thus a skilful seer would read the skies." + + To him then Hector with disdain return'd: + (Fierce as he spoke, his eyes with fury burn'd:) + "Are these the faithful counsels of thy tongue? + Thy will is partial, not thy reason wrong: + Or if the purpose of thy heart thou vent, + Sure heaven resumes the little sense it lent. + What coward counsels would thy madness move + Against the word, the will reveal'd of Jove? + The leading sign, the irrevocable nod, + And happy thunders of the favouring god, + These shall I slight, and guide my wavering mind + By wandering birds that flit with every wind? + Ye vagrants of the sky! your wings extend, + Or where the suns arise, or where descend; + To right, to left, unheeded take your way, + While I the dictates of high heaven obey. + Without a sign his sword the brave man draws, + And asks no omen but his country's cause. + But why should'st thou suspect the war's success? + None fears it more, as none promotes it less: + Though all our chiefs amidst yon ships expire, + Trust thy own cowardice to escape their fire. + Troy and her sons may find a general grave, + But thou canst live, for thou canst be a slave. + Yet should the fears that wary mind suggests + Spread their cold poison through our soldiers' breasts, + My javelin can revenge so base a part, + And free the soul that quivers in thy heart." + + Furious he spoke, and, rushing to the wall, + Calls on his host; his host obey the call; + With ardour follow where their leader flies: + Redoubling clamours thunder in the skies. + Jove breathes a whirlwind from the hills of Ide, + And drifts of dust the clouded navy hide; + He fills the Greeks with terror and dismay, + And gives great Hector the predestined day. + Strong in themselves, but stronger in his aid, + Close to the works their rigid siege they laid. + In vain the mounds and massy beams defend, + While these they undermine, and those they rend; + Upheaved the piles that prop the solid wall; + And heaps on heaps the smoky ruins fall. + Greece on her ramparts stands the fierce alarms; + The crowded bulwarks blaze with waving arms, + Shield touching shield, a long refulgent row; + Whence hissing darts, incessant, rain below. + The bold Ajaces fly from tower to tower, + And rouse, with flame divine, the Grecian power. + The generous impulse every Greek obeys; + Threats urge the fearful; and the valiant, praise. + + "Fellows in arms! whose deeds are known to fame, + And you, whose ardour hopes an equal name! + Since not alike endued with force or art; + Behold a day when each may act his part! + A day to fire the brave, and warm the cold, + To gain new glories, or augment the old. + Urge those who stand, and those who faint, excite; + Drown Hector's vaunts in loud exhorts of fight; + Conquest, not safety, fill the thoughts of all; + Seek not your fleet, but sally from the wall; + So Jove once more may drive their routed train, + And Troy lie trembling in her walls again." + + Their ardour kindles all the Grecian powers; + And now the stones descend in heavier showers. + As when high Jove his sharp artillery forms, + And opes his cloudy magazine of storms; + In winter's bleak un comfortable reign, + A snowy inundation hides the plain; + He stills the winds, and bids the skies to sleep; + Then pours the silent tempest thick and deep; + And first the mountain-tops are cover'd o'er, + Then the green fields, and then the sandy shore; + Bent with the weight, the nodding woods are seen, + And one bright waste hides all the works of men: + The circling seas, alone absorbing all, + Drink the dissolving fleeces as they fall: + So from each side increased the stony rain, + And the white ruin rises o'er the plain. + + Thus godlike Hector and his troops contend + To force the ramparts, and the gates to rend: + Nor Troy could conquer, nor the Greeks would yield, + Till great Sarpedon tower'd amid the field; + For mighty Jove inspired with martial flame + His matchless son, and urged him on to fame. + In arms he shines, conspicuous from afar, + And bears aloft his ample shield in air; + Within whose orb the thick bull-hides were roll'd, + Ponderous with brass, and bound with ductile gold: + And while two pointed javelins arm his hands, + Majestic moves along, and leads his Lycian bands. + + So press'd with hunger, from the mountain's brow + Descends a lion on the flocks below; + So stalks the lordly savage o'er the plain, + In sullen majesty, and stern disdain: + In vain loud mastiffs bay him from afar, + And shepherds gall him with an iron war; + Regardless, furious, he pursues his way; + He foams, he roars, he rends the panting prey. + + Resolved alike, divine Sarpedon glows + With generous rage that drives him on the foes. + He views the towers, and meditates their fall, + To sure destruction dooms the aspiring wall; + Then casting on his friend an ardent look, + Fired with the thirst of glory, thus he spoke: + + "Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended reign,(226) + Where Xanthus' streams enrich the Lycian plain, + Our numerous herds that range the fruitful field, + And hills where vines their purple harvest yield, + Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown'd, + Our feasts enhanced with music's sprightly sound? + Why on those shores are we with joy survey'd, + Admired as heroes, and as gods obey'd, + Unless great acts superior merit prove, + And vindicate the bounteous powers above? + 'Tis ours, the dignity they give to grace; + The first in valour, as the first in place; + That when with wondering eyes our martial bands + Behold our deeds transcending our commands, + Such, they may cry, deserve the sovereign state, + Whom those that envy dare not imitate! + Could all our care elude the gloomy grave, + Which claims no less the fearful and the brave, + For lust of fame I should not vainly dare + In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war. + But since, alas! ignoble age must come, + Disease, and death's inexorable doom + The life, which others pay, let us bestow, + And give to fame what we to nature owe; + Brave though we fall, and honour'd if we live, + Or let us glory gain, or glory give!" + + He said; his words the listening chief inspire + With equal warmth, and rouse the warrior's fire; + The troops pursue their leaders with delight, + Rush to the foe, and claim the promised fight. + Menestheus from on high the storm beheld + Threatening the fort, and blackening in the field: + Around the walls he gazed, to view from far + What aid appear'd to avert the approaching war, + And saw where Teucer with the Ajaces stood, + Of fight insatiate, prodigal of blood. + In vain he calls; the din of helms and shields + Rings to the skies, and echoes through the fields, + The brazen hinges fly, the walls resound, + Heaven trembles, roar the mountains, thunders all the ground + Then thus to Thoos: "Hence with speed (he said), + And urge the bold Ajaces to our aid; + Their strength, united, best may help to bear + The bloody labours of the doubtful war: + Hither the Lycian princes bend their course, + The best and bravest of the hostile force. + But if too fiercely there the foes contend, + Let Telamon, at least, our towers defend, + And Teucer haste with his unerring bow + To share the danger, and repel the foe." + + Swift, at the word, the herald speeds along + The lofty ramparts, through the martial throng, + And finds the heroes bathed in sweat and gore, + Opposed in combat on the dusty shore. + "Ye valiant leaders of our warlike bands! + Your aid (said Thoos) Peteus' son demands; + Your strength, united, best may help to bear + The bloody labours of the doubtful war: + Thither the Lycian princes bend their course, + The best and bravest of the hostile force. + But if too fiercely, here, the foes contend, + At least, let Telamon those towers defend, + And Teucer haste with his unerring bow + To share the danger, and repel the foe." + + Straight to the fort great Ajax turn'd his care, + And thus bespoke his brothers of the war: + "Now, valiant Lycomede! exert your might, + And, brave Oileus, prove your force in fight; + To you I trust the fortune of the field, + Till by this arm the foe shall be repell'd: + That done, expect me to complete the day + Then with his sevenfold shield he strode away. + With equal steps bold Teucer press'd the shore, + Whose fatal bow the strong Pandion bore. + + High on the walls appear'd the Lycian powers, + Like some black tempest gathering round the towers: + The Greeks, oppress'd, their utmost force unite, + Prepared to labour in the unequal fight: + The war renews, mix'd shouts and groans arise; + Tumultuous clamour mounts, and thickens in the skies. + Fierce Ajax first the advancing host invades, + And sends the brave Epicles to the shades, + Sarpedon's friend. Across the warrior's way, + Rent from the walls, a rocky fragment lay; + In modern ages not the strongest swain + Could heave the unwieldy burden from the plain: + He poised, and swung it round; then toss'd on high, + It flew with force, and labour'd up the sky; + Full on the Lycian's helmet thundering down, + The ponderous ruin crush'd his batter'd crown. + As skilful divers from some airy steep + Headlong descend, and shoot into the deep, + So falls Epicles; then in groans expires, + And murmuring to the shades the soul retires. + + While to the ramparts daring Glaucus drew, + From Teucer's hand a winged arrow flew; + The bearded shaft the destined passage found, + And on his naked arm inflicts a wound. + The chief, who fear'd some foe's insulting boast + Might stop the progress of his warlike host, + Conceal'd the wound, and, leaping from his height + Retired reluctant from the unfinish'd fight. + Divine Sarpedon with regret beheld + Disabled Glaucus slowly quit the field; + His beating breast with generous ardour glows, + He springs to fight, and flies upon the foes. + Alcmaon first was doom'd his force to feel; + Deep in his breast he plunged the pointed steel; + Then from the yawning wound with fury tore + The spear, pursued by gushing streams of gore: + Down sinks the warrior with a thundering sound, + His brazen armour rings against the ground. + + Swift to the battlement the victor flies, + Tugs with full force, and every nerve applies: + It shakes; the ponderous stones disjointed yield; + The rolling ruins smoke along the field. + A mighty breach appears; the walls lie bare; + And, like a deluge, rushes in the war. + At once bold Teucer draws the twanging bow, + And Ajax sends his javelin at the foe; + Fix'd in his belt the feather'd weapon stood, + And through his buckler drove the trembling wood; + But Jove was present in the dire debate, + To shield his offspring, and avert his fate. + The prince gave back, not meditating flight, + But urging vengeance, and severer fight; + Then raised with hope, and fired with glory's charms, + His fainting squadrons to new fury warms. + "O where, ye Lycians, is the strength you boast? + Your former fame and ancient virtue lost! + The breach lies open, but your chief in vain + Attempts alone the guarded pass to gain: + Unite, and soon that hostile fleet shall fall: + The force of powerful union conquers all." + + This just rebuke inflamed the Lycian crew; + They join, they thicken, and the assault renew: + Unmoved the embodied Greeks their fury dare, + And fix'd support the weight of all the war; + Nor could the Greeks repel the Lycian powers, + Nor the bold Lycians force the Grecian towers. + As on the confines of adjoining grounds, + Two stubborn swains with blows dispute their bounds; + They tug, they sweat; but neither gain, nor yield, + One foot, one inch, of the contended field; + Thus obstinate to death, they fight, they fall; + Nor these can keep, nor those can win the wall. + Their manly breasts are pierced with many a wound, + Loud strokes are heard, and rattling arms resound; + The copious slaughter covers all the shore, + And the high ramparts drip with human gore. + + As when two scales are charged with doubtful loads, + From side to side the trembling balance nods, + (While some laborious matron, just and poor, + With nice exactness weighs her woolly store,) + Till poised aloft, the resting beam suspends + Each equal weight; nor this, nor that, descends:(227) + So stood the war, till Hector's matchless might, + With fates prevailing, turn'd the scale of fight. + Fierce as a whirlwind up the walls he flies, + And fires his host with loud repeated cries. + "Advance, ye Trojans! lend your valiant hands, + Haste to the fleet, and toss the blazing brands!" + They hear, they run; and, gathering at his call, + Raise scaling engines, and ascend the wall: + Around the works a wood of glittering spears + Shoots up, and all the rising host appears. + A ponderous stone bold Hector heaved to throw, + Pointed above, and rough and gross below: + Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise, + Such men as live in these degenerate days: + Yet this, as easy as a swain could bear + The snowy fleece, he toss'd, and shook in air; + For Jove upheld, and lighten'd of its load + The unwieldy rock, the labour of a god. + Thus arm'd, before the folded gates he came, + Of massy substance, and stupendous frame; + With iron bars and brazen hinges strong, + On lofty beams of solid timber hung: + Then thundering through the planks with forceful sway, + Drives the sharp rock; the solid beams give way, + The folds are shatter'd; from the crackling door + Leap the resounding bars, the flying hinges roar. + Now rushing in, the furious chief appears, + Gloomy as night! and shakes two shining spears:(228) + A dreadful gleam from his bright armour came, + And from his eye-balls flash'd the living flame. + He moves a god, resistless in his course, + And seems a match for more than mortal force. + Then pouring after, through the gaping space, + A tide of Trojans flows, and fills the place; + The Greeks behold, they tremble, and they fly; + The shore is heap'd with death, and tumult rends the sky. + + [Illustration: GREEK ALTAR.] + + GREEK ALTAR. + + + + + +BOOK XIII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE FOURTH BATTLE CONTINUED, IN WHICH NEPTUNE ASSISTS THE GREEKS: THE ACTS +OF IDOMENEUS. + +Neptune, concerned for the loss of the Grecians, upon seeing the +fortification forced by Hector, (who had entered the gate near the station +of the Ajaces,) assumes the shape of Calchas, and inspires those heroes to +oppose him: then, in the form of one of the generals, encourages the other +Greeks who had retired to their vessels. The Ajaces form their troops in a +close phalanx, and put a stop to Hector and the Trojans. Several deeds of +valour are performed; Meriones, losing his spear in the encounter, repairs +to seek another at the tent of Idomeneus: this occasions a conversation +between those two warriors, who return together to the battle. Idomeneus +signalizes his courage above the rest; he kills Othryoneus, Asius, and +Alcathous: Deiphobus and AEneas march against him, and at length Idomeneus +retires. Menelaus wounds Helenus, and kills Pisander. The Trojans are +repulsed on the left wing; Hector still keeps his ground against the +Ajaces, till, being galled by the Locrian slingers and archers, Polydamas +advises to call a council of war: Hector approves of his advice, but goes +first to rally the Trojans; upbraids Paris, rejoins Polydamas, meets Ajax +again, and renews the attack. + +The eight-and-twentieth day still continues. The scene is between the +Grecian wall and the sea-shore. + + When now the Thunderer on the sea-beat coast + Had fix'd great Hector and his conquering host, + He left them to the fates, in bloody fray + To toil and struggle through the well-fought day. + Then turn'd to Thracia from the field of fight + Those eyes that shed insufferable light, + To where the Mysians prove their martial force, + And hardy Thracians tame the savage horse; + And where the far-famed Hippomolgian strays, + Renown'd for justice and for length of days;(229) + Thrice happy race! that, innocent of blood, + From milk, innoxious, seek their simple food: + Jove sees delighted; and avoids the scene + Of guilty Troy, of arms, and dying men: + No aid, he deems, to either host is given, + While his high law suspends the powers of Heaven. + + Meantime the monarch of the watery main + Observed the Thunderer, nor observed in vain. + In Samothracia, on a mountain's brow, + Whose waving woods o'erhung the deeps below, + He sat; and round him cast his azure eyes + Where Ida's misty tops confusedly rise; + Below, fair Ilion's glittering spires were seen; + The crowded ships and sable seas between. + There, from the crystal chambers of the main + Emerged, he sat, and mourn'd his Argives slain. + At Jove incensed, with grief and fury stung, + Prone down the rocky steep he rush'd along; + Fierce as he pass'd, the lofty mountains nod, + The forest shakes; earth trembled as he trod, + And felt the footsteps of the immortal god. + From realm to realm three ample strides he took, + And, at the fourth, the distant AEgae shook. + + Far in the bay his shining palace stands, + Eternal frame! not raised by mortal hands: + This having reach'd, his brass-hoof'd steeds he reins, + Fleet as the winds, and deck'd with golden manes. + Refulgent arms his mighty limbs infold, + Immortal arms of adamant and gold. + He mounts the car, the golden scourge applies, + He sits superior, and the chariot flies: + His whirling wheels the glassy surface sweep; + The enormous monsters rolling o'er the deep + Gambol around him on the watery way, + And heavy whales in awkward measures play; + The sea subsiding spreads a level plain, + Exults, and owns the monarch of the main; + The parting waves before his coursers fly; + The wondering waters leave his axle dry. + + Deep in the liquid regions lies a cave, + Between where Tenedos the surges lave, + And rocky Imbrus breaks the rolling wave: + There the great ruler of the azure round + Stopp'd his swift chariot, and his steeds unbound, + Fed with ambrosial herbage from his hand, + And link'd their fetlocks with a golden band, + Infrangible, immortal: there they stay: + The father of the floods pursues his way: + Where, like a tempest, darkening heaven around, + Or fiery deluge that devours the ground, + The impatient Trojans, in a gloomy throng, + Embattled roll'd, as Hector rush'd along: + To the loud tumult and the barbarous cry + The heavens re-echo, and the shores reply: + They vow destruction to the Grecian name, + And in their hopes the fleets already flame. + + But Neptune, rising from the seas profound, + The god whose earthquakes rock the solid ground, + Now wears a mortal form; like Calchas seen, + Such his loud voice, and such his manly mien; + His shouts incessant every Greek inspire, + But most the Ajaces, adding fire to fire. + + [Illustration: NEPTUNE RISING FROM THE SEA.] + + NEPTUNE RISING FROM THE SEA. + + + "'Tis yours, O warriors, all our hopes to raise: + Oh recollect your ancient worth and praise! + 'Tis yours to save us, if you cease to fear; + Flight, more than shameful, is destructive here. + On other works though Troy with fury fall, + And pour her armies o'er our batter'd wall: + There Greece has strength: but this, this part o'erthrown, + Her strength were vain; I dread for you alone: + Here Hector rages like the force of fire, + Vaunts of his gods, and calls high Jove his sire: + If yet some heavenly power your breast excite, + Breathe in your hearts, and string your arms to fight, + Greece yet may live, her threaten'd fleet maintain: + And Hector's force, and Jove's own aid, be vain." + + Then with his sceptre, that the deep controls, + He touch'd the chiefs, and steel'd their manly souls: + Strength, not their own, the touch divine imparts, + Prompts their light limbs, and swells their daring hearts. + Then, as a falcon from the rocky height, + Her quarry seen, impetuous at the sight, + Forth-springing instant, darts herself from high, + Shoots on the wing, and skims along the sky: + Such, and so swift, the power of ocean flew; + The wide horizon shut him from their view. + + The inspiring god Oileus' active son + Perceived the first, and thus to Telamon: + + "Some god, my friend, some god in human form + Favouring descends, and wills to stand the storm. + Not Calchas this, the venerable seer; + Short as he turned, I saw the power appear: + I mark'd his parting, and the steps he trod; + His own bright evidence reveals a god. + Even now some energy divine I share, + And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air!" + + "With equal ardour (Telamon returns) + My soul is kindled, and my bosom burns; + New rising spirits all my force alarm, + Lift each impatient limb, and brace my arm. + This ready arm, unthinking, shakes the dart; + The blood pours back, and fortifies my heart: + Singly, methinks, yon towering chief I meet, + And stretch the dreadful Hector at my feet." + + Full of the god that urged their burning breast, + The heroes thus their mutual warmth express'd. + Neptune meanwhile the routed Greeks inspired; + Who, breathless, pale, with length of labours tired, + Pant in the ships; while Troy to conquest calls, + And swarms victorious o'er their yielding walls: + Trembling before the impending storm they lie, + While tears of rage stand burning in their eye. + Greece sunk they thought, and this their fatal hour; + But breathe new courage as they feel the power. + Teucer and Leitus first his words excite; + Then stern Peneleus rises to the fight; + Thoas, Deipyrus, in arms renown'd, + And Merion next, the impulsive fury found; + Last Nestor's son the same bold ardour takes, + While thus the god the martial fire awakes: + + "Oh lasting infamy, oh dire disgrace + To chiefs of vigorous youth, and manly race! + I trusted in the gods, and you, to see + Brave Greece victorious, and her navy free: + Ah, no--the glorious combat you disclaim, + And one black day clouds all her former fame. + Heavens! what a prodigy these eyes survey, + Unseen, unthought, till this amazing day! + Fly we at length from Troy's oft-conquer'd bands? + And falls our fleet by such inglorious hands? + A rout undisciplined, a straggling train, + Not born to glories of the dusty plain; + Like frighted fawns from hill to hill pursued, + A prey to every savage of the wood: + Shall these, so late who trembled at your name, + Invade your camps, involve your ships in flame? + A change so shameful, say, what cause has wrought? + The soldiers' baseness, or the general's fault? + Fools! will ye perish for your leader's vice; + The purchase infamy, and life the price? + 'Tis not your cause, Achilles' injured fame: + Another's is the crime, but yours the shame. + Grant that our chief offend through rage or lust, + Must you be cowards, if your king's unjust? + Prevent this evil, and your country save: + Small thought retrieves the spirits of the brave. + Think, and subdue! on dastards dead to fame + I waste no anger, for they feel no shame: + But you, the pride, the flower of all our host, + My heart weeps blood to see your glory lost! + Nor deem this day, this battle, all you lose; + A day more black, a fate more vile, ensues. + Let each reflect, who prizes fame or breath, + On endless infamy, on instant death: + For, lo! the fated time, the appointed shore: + Hark! the gates burst, the brazen barriers roar! + Impetuous Hector thunders at the wall; + The hour, the spot, to conquer, or to fall." + + These words the Grecians' fainting hearts inspire, + And listening armies catch the godlike fire. + Fix'd at his post was each bold Ajax found, + With well-ranged squadrons strongly circled round: + So close their order, so disposed their fight, + As Pallas' self might view with fix'd delight; + Or had the god of war inclined his eyes, + The god of war had own'd a just surprise. + A chosen phalanx, firm, resolved as fate, + Descending Hector and his battle wait. + An iron scene gleams dreadful o'er the fields, + Armour in armour lock'd, and shields in shields, + Spears lean on spears, on targets targets throng, + Helms stuck to helms, and man drove man along. + The floating plumes unnumber'd wave above, + As when an earthquake stirs the nodding grove; + And levell'd at the skies with pointing rays, + Their brandish'd lances at each motion blaze. + + Thus breathing death, in terrible array, + The close compacted legions urged their way: + Fierce they drove on, impatient to destroy; + Troy charged the first, and Hector first of Troy. + As from some mountain's craggy forehead torn, + A rock's round fragment flies, with fury borne, + (Which from the stubborn stone a torrent rends,) + Precipitate the ponderous mass descends: + From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds; + At every shock the crackling wood resounds; + Still gathering force, it smokes; and urged amain, + Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain: + There stops--so Hector. Their whole force he proved,(230) + Resistless when he raged, and, when he stopp'd, unmoved. + + On him the war is bent, the darts are shed, + And all their falchions wave around his head: + Repulsed he stands, nor from his stand retires; + But with repeated shouts his army fires. + "Trojans! be firm; this arm shall make your way + Through yon square body, and that black array: + Stand, and my spear shall rout their scattering power, + Strong as they seem, embattled like a tower; + For he that Juno's heavenly bosom warms, + The first of gods, this day inspires our arms." + + He said; and roused the soul in every breast: + Urged with desire of fame, beyond the rest, + Forth march'd Deiphobus; but, marching, held + Before his wary steps his ample shield. + Bold Merion aim'd a stroke (nor aim'd it wide); + The glittering javelin pierced the tough bull-hide; + But pierced not through: unfaithful to his hand, + The point broke short, and sparkled in the sand. + The Trojan warrior, touch'd with timely fear, + On the raised orb to distance bore the spear. + The Greek, retreating, mourn'd his frustrate blow, + And cursed the treacherous lance that spared a foe; + Then to the ships with surly speed he went, + To seek a surer javelin in his tent. + + Meanwhile with rising rage the battle glows, + The tumult thickens, and the clamour grows. + By Teucer's arm the warlike Imbrius bleeds, + The son of Mentor, rich in generous steeds. + Ere yet to Troy the sons of Greece were led, + In fair Pedaeus' verdant pastures bred, + The youth had dwelt, remote from war's alarms, + And blest in bright Medesicaste's arms: + (This nymph, the fruit of Priam's ravish'd joy, + Allied the warrior to the house of Troy:) + To Troy, when glory call'd his arms, he came, + And match'd the bravest of her chiefs in fame: + With Priam's sons, a guardian of the throne, + He lived, beloved and honour'd as his own. + Him Teucer pierced between the throat and ear: + He groans beneath the Telamonian spear. + As from some far-seen mountain's airy crown, + Subdued by steel, a tall ash tumbles down, + And soils its verdant tresses on the ground; + So falls the youth; his arms the fall resound. + Then Teucer rushing to despoil the dead, + From Hector's hand a shining javelin fled: + He saw, and shunn'd the death; the forceful dart + Sung on, and pierced Amphimachus's heart, + Cteatus' son, of Neptune's forceful line; + Vain was his courage, and his race divine! + Prostrate he falls; his clanging arms resound, + And his broad buckler thunders on the ground. + To seize his beamy helm the victor flies, + And just had fastened on the dazzling prize, + When Ajax' manly arm a javelin flung; + Full on the shield's round boss the weapon rung; + He felt the shock, nor more was doom'd to feel, + Secure in mail, and sheath'd in shining steel. + Repulsed he yields; the victor Greeks obtain + The spoils contested, and bear off the slain. + Between the leaders of the Athenian line, + (Stichius the brave, Menestheus the divine,) + Deplored Amphimachus, sad object! lies; + Imbrius remains the fierce Ajaces' prize. + As two grim lions bear across the lawn, + Snatch'd from devouring hounds, a slaughter'd fawn. + In their fell jaws high-lifting through the wood, + And sprinkling all the shrubs with drops of blood; + So these, the chief: great Ajax from the dead + Strips his bright arms; Oileus lops his head: + Toss'd like a ball, and whirl'd in air away, + At Hector's feet the gory visage lay. + + The god of ocean, fired with stern disdain, + And pierced with sorrow for his grandson slain, + Inspires the Grecian hearts, confirms their hands, + And breathes destruction on the Trojan bands. + Swift as a whirlwind rushing to the fleet, + He finds the lance-famed Idomen of Crete, + His pensive brow the generous care express'd + With which a wounded soldier touch'd his breast, + Whom in the chance of war a javelin tore, + And his sad comrades from the battle bore; + Him to the surgeons of the camp he sent: + That office paid, he issued from his tent + Fierce for the fight: to whom the god begun, + In Thoas' voice, Andraemon's valiant son, + Who ruled where Calydon's white rocks arise, + And Pleuron's chalky cliffs emblaze the skies: + + "Where's now the imperious vaunt, the daring boast, + Of Greece victorious, and proud Ilion lost?" + + To whom the king: "On Greece no blame be thrown; + Arms are her trade, and war is all her own. + Her hardy heroes from the well-fought plains + Nor fear withholds, nor shameful sloth detains: + 'Tis heaven, alas! and Jove's all-powerful doom, + That far, far distant from our native home + Wills us to fall inglorious! Oh, my friend! + Once foremost in the fight, still prone to lend + Or arms or counsels, now perform thy best, + And what thou canst not singly, urge the rest." + + Thus he: and thus the god whose force can make + The solid globe's eternal basis shake: + "Ah! never may he see his native land, + But feed the vultures on this hateful strand, + Who seeks ignobly in his ships to stay, + Nor dares to combat on this signal day! + For this, behold! in horrid arms I shine, + And urge thy soul to rival acts with mine. + Together let us battle on the plain; + Two, not the worst; nor even this succour vain: + Not vain the weakest, if their force unite; + But ours, the bravest have confess'd in fight." + + This said, he rushes where the combat burns; + Swift to his tent the Cretan king returns: + From thence, two javelins glittering in his hand, + And clad in arms that lighten'd all the strand, + Fierce on the foe the impetuous hero drove, + Like lightning bursting from the arm of Jove, + Which to pale man the wrath of heaven declares, + Or terrifies the offending world with wars; + In streamy sparkles, kindling all the skies, + From pole to pole the trail of glory flies: + Thus his bright armour o'er the dazzled throng + Gleam'd dreadful, as the monarch flash'd along. + + Him, near his tent, Meriones attends; + Whom thus he questions: "Ever best of friends! + O say, in every art of battle skill'd, + What holds thy courage from so brave a field? + On some important message art thou bound, + Or bleeds my friend by some unhappy wound? + Inglorious here, my soul abhors to stay, + And glows with prospects of th' approaching day." + + "O prince! (Meriones replies) whose care + Leads forth the embattled sons of Crete to war; + This speaks my grief: this headless lance I wield; + The rest lies rooted in a Trojan shield." + + To whom the Cretan: "Enter, and receive + The wonted weapons; those my tent can give; + Spears I have store, (and Trojan lances all,) + That shed a lustre round the illumined wall, + Though I, disdainful of the distant war, + Nor trust the dart, nor aim the uncertain spear, + Yet hand to hand I fight, and spoil the slain; + And thence these trophies, and these arms I gain. + Enter, and see on heaps the helmets roll'd, + And high-hung spears, and shields that flame with gold." + + "Nor vain (said Merion) are our martial toils; + We too can boast of no ignoble spoils: + But those my ship contains; whence distant far, + I fight conspicuous in the van of war, + What need I more? If any Greek there be + Who knows not Merion, I appeal to thee." + + To this, Idomeneus: "The fields of fight + Have proved thy valour, and unconquer'd might: + And were some ambush for the foes design'd, + Even there thy courage would not lag behind: + In that sharp service, singled from the rest, + The fear of each, or valour, stands confess'd. + No force, no firmness, the pale coward shows; + He shifts his place: his colour comes and goes: + A dropping sweat creeps cold on every part; + Against his bosom beats his quivering heart; + Terror and death in his wild eye-balls stare; + With chattering teeth he stands, and stiffening hair, + And looks a bloodless image of despair! + Not so the brave--still dauntless, still the same, + Unchanged his colour, and unmoved his frame: + Composed his thought, determined is his eye, + And fix'd his soul, to conquer or to die: + If aught disturb the tenour of his breast, + 'Tis but the wish to strike before the rest. + + "In such assays thy blameless worth is known, + And every art of dangerous war thy own. + By chance of fight whatever wounds you bore, + Those wounds were glorious all, and all before; + Such as may teach, 'twas still thy brave delight + T'oppose thy bosom where thy foremost fight. + But why, like infants, cold to honour's charms, + Stand we to talk, when glory calls to arms? + Go--from my conquer'd spears the choicest take, + And to their owners send them nobly back." + + Swift at the word bold Merion snatch'd a spear + And, breathing slaughter, follow'd to the war. + So Mars armipotent invades the plain, + (The wide destroyer of the race of man,) + Terror, his best-beloved son, attends his course, + Arm'd with stern boldness, and enormous force; + The pride of haughty warriors to confound, + And lay the strength of tyrants on the ground: + From Thrace they fly, call'd to the dire alarms + Of warring Phlegyans, and Ephyrian arms; + Invoked by both, relentless they dispose, + To these glad conquest, murderous rout to those. + So march'd the leaders of the Cretan train, + And their bright arms shot horror o'er the plain. + + Then first spake Merion: "Shall we join the right, + Or combat in the centre of the fight? + Or to the left our wonted succour lend? + Hazard and fame all parts alike attend." + + "Not in the centre (Idomen replied:) + Our ablest chieftains the main battle guide; + Each godlike Ajax makes that post his care, + And gallant Teucer deals destruction there, + Skill'd or with shafts to gall the distant field, + Or bear close battle on the sounding shield. + These can the rage of haughty Hector tame: + Safe in their arms, the navy fears no flame, + Till Jove himself descends, his bolts to shed, + And hurl the blazing ruin at our head. + Great must he be, of more than human birth, + Nor feed like mortals on the fruits of earth. + Him neither rocks can crush, nor steel can wound, + Whom Ajax fells not on the ensanguined ground. + In standing fight he mates Achilles' force, + Excell'd alone in swiftness in the course. + Then to the left our ready arms apply, + And live with glory, or with glory die." + + He said: and Merion to th' appointed place, + Fierce as the god of battles, urged his pace. + Soon as the foe the shining chiefs beheld + Rush like a fiery torrent o'er the field, + Their force embodied in a tide they pour; + The rising combat sounds along the shore. + As warring winds, in Sirius' sultry reign, + From different quarters sweep the sandy plain; + On every side the dusty whirlwinds rise, + And the dry fields are lifted to the skies: + Thus by despair, hope, rage, together driven, + Met the black hosts, and, meeting, darken'd heaven. + All dreadful glared the iron face of war, + Bristled with upright spears, that flash'd afar; + Dire was the gleam of breastplates, helms, and shields, + And polish'd arms emblazed the flaming fields: + Tremendous scene! that general horror gave, + But touch'd with joy the bosoms of the brave. + + Saturn's great sons in fierce contention vied, + And crowds of heroes in their anger died. + The sire of earth and heaven, by Thetis won + To crown with glory Peleus' godlike son, + Will'd not destruction to the Grecian powers, + But spared awhile the destined Trojan towers; + While Neptune, rising from his azure main, + Warr'd on the king of heaven with stern disdain, + And breathed revenge, and fired the Grecian train. + Gods of one source, of one ethereal race, + Alike divine, and heaven their native place; + But Jove the greater; first-born of the skies, + And more than men, or gods, supremely wise. + For this, of Jove's superior might afraid, + Neptune in human form conceal'd his aid. + These powers enfold the Greek and Trojan train + In war and discord's adamantine chain, + Indissolubly strong: the fatal tie + Is stretch'd on both, and close compell'd they die. + + Dreadful in arms, and grown in combats grey, + The bold Idomeneus controls the day. + First by his hand Othryoneus was slain, + Swell'd with false hopes, with mad ambition vain; + Call'd by the voice of war to martial fame, + From high Cabesus' distant walls he came; + Cassandra's love he sought, with boasts of power, + And promised conquest was the proffer'd dower. + The king consented, by his vaunts abused; + The king consented, but the fates refused. + Proud of himself, and of the imagined bride, + The field he measured with a larger stride. + Him as he stalk'd, the Cretan javelin found; + Vain was his breastplate to repel the wound: + His dream of glory lost, he plunged to hell; + His arms resounded as the boaster fell. + The great Idomeneus bestrides the dead; + "And thus (he cries) behold thy promise sped! + Such is the help thy arms to Ilion bring, + And such the contract of the Phrygian king! + Our offers now, illustrious prince! receive; + For such an aid what will not Argos give? + To conquer Troy, with ours thy forces join, + And count Atrides' fairest daughter thine. + Meantime, on further methods to advise, + Come, follow to the fleet thy new allies; + There hear what Greece has on her part to say." + He spoke, and dragg'd the gory corse away. + This Asius view'd, unable to contain, + Before his chariot warring on the plain: + (His crowded coursers, to his squire consign'd, + Impatient panted on his neck behind:) + To vengeance rising with a sudden spring, + He hoped the conquest of the Cretan king. + The wary Cretan, as his foe drew near, + Full on his throat discharged the forceful spear: + Beneath the chin the point was seen to glide, + And glitter'd, extant at the further side. + As when the mountain-oak, or poplar tall, + Or pine, fit mast for some great admiral, + Groans to the oft-heaved axe, with many a wound, + Then spreads a length of ruin o'er the ground: + So sunk proud Asius in that dreadful day, + And stretch'd before his much-loved coursers lay. + He grinds the dust distain'd with streaming gore, + And, fierce in death, lies foaming on the shore. + Deprived of motion, stiff with stupid fear, + Stands all aghast his trembling charioteer, + Nor shuns the foe, nor turns the steeds away, + But falls transfix'd, an unresisting prey: + Pierced by Antilochus, he pants beneath + The stately car, and labours out his breath. + Thus Asius' steeds (their mighty master gone) + Remain the prize of Nestor's youthful son. + + Stabb'd at the sight, Deiphobus drew nigh, + And made, with force, the vengeful weapon fly. + The Cretan saw; and, stooping, caused to glance + From his slope shield the disappointed lance. + Beneath the spacious targe, (a blazing round, + Thick with bull-hides and brazen orbits bound, + On his raised arm by two strong braces stay'd,) + He lay collected in defensive shade. + O'er his safe head the javelin idly sung, + And on the tinkling verge more faintly rung. + Even then the spear the vigorous arm confess'd, + And pierced, obliquely, king Hypsenor's breast: + Warm'd in his liver, to the ground it bore + The chief, his people's guardian now no more! + + "Not unattended (the proud Trojan cries) + Nor unrevenged, lamented Asius lies: + For thee, through hell's black portals stand display'd, + This mate shall joy thy melancholy shade." + + Heart-piercing anguish, at the haughty boast, + Touch'd every Greek, but Nestor's son the most. + Grieved as he was, his pious arms attend, + And his broad buckler shields his slaughter'd friend: + Till sad Mecistheus and Alastor bore + His honour'd body to the tented shore. + + Nor yet from fight Idomeneus withdraws; + Resolved to perish in his country's cause, + Or find some foe, whom heaven and he shall doom + To wail his fate in death's eternal gloom. + He sees Alcathous in the front aspire: + Great AEsyetes was the hero's sire; + His spouse Hippodame, divinely fair, + Anchises' eldest hope, and darling care: + Who charm'd her parents' and her husband's heart + With beauty, sense, and every work of art: + He once of Ilion's youth the loveliest boy, + The fairest she of all the fair of Troy. + By Neptune now the hapless hero dies, + Who covers with a cloud those beauteous eyes, + And fetters every limb: yet bent to meet + His fate he stands; nor shuns the lance of Crete. + Fix'd as some column, or deep-rooted oak, + While the winds sleep; his breast received the stroke. + Before the ponderous stroke his corslet yields, + Long used to ward the death in fighting fields. + The riven armour sends a jarring sound; + His labouring heart heaves with so strong a bound, + The long lance shakes, and vibrates in the wound; + Fast flowing from its source, as prone he lay, + Life's purple tide impetuous gush'd away. + + Then Idomen, insulting o'er the slain: + "Behold, Deiphobus! nor vaunt in vain: + See! on one Greek three Trojan ghosts attend; + This, my third victim, to the shades I send. + Approaching now thy boasted might approve, + And try the prowess of the seed of Jove. + From Jove, enamour'd of a mortal dame, + Great Minos, guardian of his country, came: + Deucalion, blameless prince, was Minos' heir; + His first-born I, the third from Jupiter: + O'er spacious Crete, and her bold sons, I reign, + And thence my ships transport me through the main: + Lord of a host, o'er all my host I shine, + A scourge to thee, thy father, and thy line." + + The Trojan heard; uncertain or to meet, + Alone, with venturous arms the king of Crete, + Or seek auxiliar force; at length decreed + To call some hero to partake the deed, + Forthwith AEneas rises to his thought: + For him in Troy's remotest lines he sought, + Where he, incensed at partial Priam, stands, + And sees superior posts in meaner hands. + To him, ambitious of so great an aid, + The bold Deiphobus approach'd, and said: + + "Now, Trojan prince, employ thy pious arms, + If e'er thy bosom felt fair honour's charms. + Alcathous dies, thy brother and thy friend; + Come, and the warrior's loved remains defend. + Beneath his cares thy early youth was train'd, + One table fed you, and one roof contain'd. + This deed to fierce Idomeneus we owe; + Haste, and revenge it on th' insulting foe." + + AEneas heard, and for a space resign'd + To tender pity all his manly mind; + Then rising in his rage, he burns to fight: + The Greek awaits him with collected might. + As the fell boar, on some rough mountain's head, + Arm'd with wild terrors, and to slaughter bred, + When the loud rustics rise, and shout from far, + Attends the tumult, and expects the war; + O'er his bent back the bristly horrors rise; + Fires stream in lightning from his sanguine eyes, + His foaming tusks both dogs and men engage; + But most his hunters rouse his mighty rage: + So stood Idomeneus, his javelin shook, + And met the Trojan with a lowering look. + Antilochus, Deipyrus, were near, + The youthful offspring of the god of war, + Merion, and Aphareus, in field renown'd: + To these the warrior sent his voice around. + "Fellows in arms! your timely aid unite; + Lo, great AEneas rushes to the fight: + Sprung from a god, and more than mortal bold; + He fresh in youth, and I in arms grown old. + Else should this hand, this hour decide the strife, + The great dispute, of glory, or of life." + + He spoke, and all, as with one soul, obey'd; + Their lifted bucklers cast a dreadful shade + Around the chief. AEneas too demands + Th' assisting forces of his native bands; + Paris, Deiphobus, Agenor, join; + (Co-aids and captains of the Trojan line;) + In order follow all th' embodied train, + Like Ida's flocks proceeding o'er the plain; + Before his fleecy care, erect and bold, + Stalks the proud ram, the father of the bold. + With joy the swain surveys them, as he leads + To the cool fountains, through the well-known meads: + So joys AEneas, as his native band + Moves on in rank, and stretches o'er the land. + + Round dread Alcathous now the battle rose; + On every side the steely circle grows; + Now batter'd breast-plates and hack'd helmets ring, + And o'er their heads unheeded javelins sing. + Above the rest, two towering chiefs appear, + There great Idomeneus, AEneas here. + Like gods of war, dispensing fate, they stood, + And burn'd to drench the ground with mutual blood. + The Trojan weapon whizz'd along in air; + The Cretan saw, and shunn'd the brazen spear: + Sent from an arm so strong, the missive wood + Stuck deep in earth, and quiver'd where it stood. + But OEnomas received the Cretan's stroke; + The forceful spear his hollow corslet broke, + It ripp'd his belly with a ghastly wound, + And roll'd the smoking entrails on the ground. + Stretch'd on the plain, he sobs away his breath, + And, furious, grasps the bloody dust in death. + The victor from his breast the weapon tears; + His spoils he could not, for the shower of spears. + Though now unfit an active war to wage, + Heavy with cumbrous arms, stiff with cold age, + His listless limbs unable for the course, + In standing fight he yet maintains his force; + Till faint with labour, and by foes repell'd, + His tired slow steps he drags from off the field. + Deiphobus beheld him as he pass'd, + And, fired with hate, a parting javelin cast: + The javelin err'd, but held its course along, + And pierced Ascalaphus, the brave and young: + The son of Mars fell gasping on the ground, + And gnash'd the dust, all bloody with his wound. + + Nor knew the furious father of his fall; + High-throned amidst the great Olympian hall, + On golden clouds th' immortal synod sate; + Detain'd from bloody war by Jove and Fate. + + Now, where in dust the breathless hero lay, + For slain Ascalaphus commenced the fray, + Deiphobus to seize his helmet flies, + And from his temples rends the glittering prize; + Valiant as Mars, Meriones drew near, + And on his loaded arm discharged his spear: + He drops the weight, disabled with the pain; + The hollow helmet rings against the plain. + Swift as a vulture leaping on his prey, + From his torn arm the Grecian rent away + The reeking javelin, and rejoin'd his friends. + His wounded brother good Polites tends; + Around his waist his pious arms he threw, + And from the rage of battle gently drew: + Him his swift coursers, on his splendid car, + Rapt from the lessening thunder of the war; + To Troy they drove him, groaning from the shore, + And sprinkling, as he pass'd, the sands with gore. + + Meanwhile fresh slaughter bathes the sanguine ground, + Heaps fall on heaps, and heaven and earth resound. + Bold Aphareus by great AEneas bled; + As toward the chief he turn'd his daring head, + He pierced his throat; the bending head, depress'd + Beneath his helmet, nods upon his breast; + His shield reversed o'er the fallen warrior lies, + And everlasting slumber seals his eyes. + Antilochus, as Thoon turn'd him round, + Transpierced his back with a dishonest wound: + The hollow vein, that to the neck extends + Along the chine, his eager javelin rends: + Supine he falls, and to his social train + Spreads his imploring arms, but spreads in vain. + Th' exulting victor, leaping where he lay, + From his broad shoulders tore the spoils away; + His time observed; for closed by foes around, + On all sides thick the peals of arms resound. + His shield emboss'd the ringing storm sustains, + But he impervious and untouch'd remains. + (Great Neptune's care preserved from hostile rage + This youth, the joy of Nestor's glorious age.) + In arms intrepid, with the first he fought, + Faced every foe, and every danger sought; + His winged lance, resistless as the wind, + Obeys each motion of the master's mind! + Restless it flies, impatient to be free, + And meditates the distant enemy. + The son of Asius, Adamas, drew near, + And struck his target with the brazen spear + Fierce in his front: but Neptune wards the blow, + And blunts the javelin of th' eluded foe: + In the broad buckler half the weapon stood, + Splinter'd on earth flew half the broken wood. + Disarm'd, he mingled in the Trojan crew; + But Merion's spear o'ertook him as he flew, + Deep in the belly's rim an entrance found, + Where sharp the pang, and mortal is the wound. + Bending he fell, and doubled to the ground, + Lay panting. Thus an ox in fetters tied, + While death's strong pangs distend his labouring side, + His bulk enormous on the field displays; + His heaving heart beats thick as ebbing life decays. + The spear the conqueror from his body drew, + And death's dim shadows swarm before his view. + Next brave Deipyrus in dust was laid: + King Helenus waved high the Thracian blade, + And smote his temples with an arm so strong, + The helm fell off, and roll'd amid the throng: + There for some luckier Greek it rests a prize; + For dark in death the godlike owner lies! + Raging with grief, great Menelaus burns, + And fraught with vengeance, to the victor turns: + That shook the ponderous lance, in act to throw; + And this stood adverse with the bended bow: + Full on his breast the Trojan arrow fell, + But harmless bounded from the plated steel. + As on some ample barn's well harden'd floor, + (The winds collected at each open door,) + While the broad fan with force is whirl'd around, + Light leaps the golden grain, resulting from the ground: + So from the steel that guards Atrides' heart, + Repell'd to distance flies the bounding dart. + Atrides, watchful of the unwary foe, + Pierced with his lance the hand that grasp'd the bow. + And nailed it to the yew: the wounded hand + Trail'd the long lance that mark'd with blood the sand: + But good Agenor gently from the wound + The spear solicits, and the bandage bound; + A sling's soft wool, snatch'd from a soldier's side, + At once the tent and ligature supplied. + + Behold! Pisander, urged by fate's decree, + Springs through the ranks to fall, and fall by thee, + Great Menelaus! to enchance thy fame: + High-towering in the front, the warrior came. + First the sharp lance was by Atrides thrown; + The lance far distant by the winds was blown. + Nor pierced Pisander through Atrides' shield: + Pisander's spear fell shiver'd on the field. + Not so discouraged, to the future blind, + Vain dreams of conquest swell his haughty mind; + Dauntless he rushes where the Spartan lord + Like lightning brandish'd his far beaming sword. + His left arm high opposed the shining shield: + His right beneath, the cover'd pole-axe held; + (An olive's cloudy grain the handle made, + Distinct with studs, and brazen was the blade;) + This on the helm discharged a noble blow; + The plume dropp'd nodding to the plain below, + Shorn from the crest. Atrides waved his steel: + Deep through his front the weighty falchion fell; + The crashing bones before its force gave way; + In dust and blood the groaning hero lay: + Forced from their ghastly orbs, and spouting gore, + The clotted eye-balls tumble on the shore. + And fierce Atrides spurn'd him as he bled, + Tore off his arms, and, loud-exulting, said: + + "Thus, Trojans, thus, at length be taught to fear; + O race perfidious, who delight in war! + Already noble deeds ye have perform'd; + A princess raped transcends a navy storm'd: + In such bold feats your impious might approve, + Without th' assistance, or the fear of Jove. + The violated rites, the ravish'd dame; + Our heroes slaughter'd and our ships on flame, + Crimes heap'd on crimes, shall bend your glory down, + And whelm in ruins yon flagitious town. + O thou, great father! lord of earth and skies, + Above the thought of man, supremely wise! + If from thy hand the fates of mortals flow, + From whence this favour to an impious foe? + A godless crew, abandon'd and unjust, + Still breathing rapine, violence, and lust? + The best of things, beyond their measure, cloy; + Sleep's balmy blessing, love's endearing joy; + The feast, the dance; whate'er mankind desire, + Even the sweet charms of sacred numbers tire. + But Troy for ever reaps a dire delight + In thirst of slaughter, and in lust of fight." + + This said, he seized (while yet the carcase heaved) + The bloody armour, which his train received: + Then sudden mix'd among the warring crew, + And the bold son of Pylaemenes slew. + Harpalion had through Asia travell'd far, + Following his martial father to the war: + Through filial love he left his native shore, + Never, ah, never to behold it more! + His unsuccessful spear he chanced to fling + Against the target of the Spartan king; + Thus of his lance disarm'd, from death he flies, + And turns around his apprehensive eyes. + Him, through the hip transpiercing as he fled, + The shaft of Merion mingled with the dead. + Beneath the bone the glancing point descends, + And, driving down, the swelling bladder rends: + Sunk in his sad companions' arms he lay, + And in short pantings sobb'd his soul away; + (Like some vile worm extended on the ground;) + While life's red torrent gush'd from out the wound. + + Him on his car the Paphlagonian train + In slow procession bore from off the plain. + The pensive father, father now no more! + Attends the mournful pomp along the shore; + And unavailing tears profusely shed; + And, unrevenged, deplored his offspring dead. + + Paris from far the moving sight beheld, + With pity soften'd and with fury swell'd: + His honour'd host, a youth of matchless grace, + And loved of all the Paphlagonian race! + With his full strength he bent his angry bow, + And wing'd the feather'd vengeance at the foe. + A chief there was, the brave Euchenor named, + For riches much, and more for virtue famed. + Who held his seat in Corinth's stately town; + Polydus' son, a seer of old renown. + Oft had the father told his early doom, + By arms abroad, or slow disease at home: + He climb'd his vessel, prodigal of breath, + And chose the certain glorious path to death. + Beneath his ear the pointed arrow went; + The soul came issuing at the narrow vent: + His limbs, unnerved, drop useless on the ground, + And everlasting darkness shades him round. + + Nor knew great Hector how his legions yield, + (Wrapp'd in the cloud and tumult of the field:) + Wide on the left the force of Greece commands, + And conquest hovers o'er th' Achaian bands; + With such a tide superior virtue sway'd, + And he that shakes the solid earth gave aid. + But in the centre Hector fix'd remain'd, + Where first the gates were forced, and bulwarks gain'd; + There, on the margin of the hoary deep, + (Their naval station where the Ajaces keep. + And where low walls confine the beating tides, + Whose humble barrier scarce the foe divides; + Where late in fight both foot and horse engaged, + And all the thunder of the battle raged,) + There join'd, the whole Boeotian strength remains, + The proud Iaonians with their sweeping trains, + Locrians and Phthians, and th' Epaean force; + But join'd, repel not Hector's fiery course. + The flower of Athens, Stichius, Phidas, led; + Bias and great Menestheus at their head: + Meges the strong the Epaean bands controll'd, + And Dracius prudent, and Amphion bold: + The Phthians, Medon, famed for martial might, + And brave Podarces, active in the fight. + This drew from Phylacus his noble line; + Iphiclus' son: and that (Oileus) thine: + (Young Ajax' brother, by a stolen embrace; + He dwelt far distant from his native place, + By his fierce step-dame from his father's reign + Expell'd and exiled for her brother slain:) + These rule the Phthians, and their arms employ, + Mix'd with Boeotians, on the shores of Troy. + + Now side by side, with like unwearied care, + Each Ajax laboured through the field of war: + So when two lordly bulls, with equal toil, + Force the bright ploughshare through the fallow soil, + Join'd to one yoke, the stubborn earth they tear, + And trace large furrows with the shining share; + O'er their huge limbs the foam descends in snow, + And streams of sweat down their sour foreheads flow. + A train of heroes followed through the field, + Who bore by turns great Ajax' sevenfold shield; + Whene'er he breathed, remissive of his might, + Tired with the incessant slaughters of the fight. + No following troops his brave associate grace: + In close engagement an unpractised race, + The Locrian squadrons nor the javelin wield, + Nor bear the helm, nor lift the moony shield; + But skill'd from far the flying shaft to wing, + Or whirl the sounding pebble from the sling, + Dexterous with these they aim a certain wound, + Or fell the distant warrior to the ground. + Thus in the van the Telamonian train, + Throng'd in bright arms, a pressing fight maintain: + Far in the rear the Locrian archers lie, + Whose stones and arrows intercept the sky, + The mingled tempest on the foes they pour; + Troy's scattering orders open to the shower. + + Now had the Greeks eternal fame acquired, + And the gall'd Ilians to their walls retired; + But sage Polydamas, discreetly brave, + Address'd great Hector, and this counsel gave: + + "Though great in all, thou seem'st averse to lend + Impartial audience to a faithful friend; + To gods and men thy matchless worth is known, + And every art of glorious war thy own; + But in cool thought and counsel to excel, + How widely differs this from warring well! + Content with what the bounteous gods have given, + Seek not alone to engross the gifts of Heaven. + To some the powers of bloody war belong, + To some sweet music and the charm of song; + To few, and wondrous few, has Jove assign'd + A wise, extensive, all-considering mind; + Their guardians these, the nations round confess, + And towns and empires for their safety bless. + If Heaven have lodged this virtue in my breast, + Attend, O Hector! what I judge the best, + See, as thou mov'st, on dangers dangers spread, + And war's whole fury burns around thy head. + Behold! distress'd within yon hostile wall, + How many Trojans yield, disperse, or fall! + What troops, out-number'd, scarce the war maintain! + And what brave heroes at the ships lie slain! + Here cease thy fury: and, the chiefs and kings + Convoked to council, weigh the sum of things. + Whether (the gods succeeding our desires) + To yon tall ships to bear the Trojan fires; + Or quit the fleet, and pass unhurt away, + Contented with the conquest of the day. + I fear, I fear, lest Greece, not yet undone, + Pay the large debt of last revolving sun; + Achilles, great Achilles, yet remains + On yonder decks, and yet o'erlooks the plains!" + + The counsel pleased; and Hector, with a bound, + Leap'd from his chariot on the trembling ground; + Swift as he leap'd his clanging arms resound. + "To guard this post (he cried) thy art employ, + And here detain the scatter'd youth of Troy; + Where yonder heroes faint, I bend my way, + And hasten back to end the doubtful day." + + This said, the towering chief prepares to go, + Shakes his white plumes that to the breezes flow, + And seems a moving mountain topp'd with snow. + Through all his host, inspiring force, he flies, + And bids anew the martial thunder rise. + To Panthus' son, at Hector's high command + Haste the bold leaders of the Trojan band: + But round the battlements, and round the plain, + For many a chief he look'd, but look'd in vain; + Deiphobus, nor Helenus the seer, + Nor Asius' son, nor Asius' self appear: + For these were pierced with many a ghastly wound, + Some cold in death, some groaning on the ground; + Some low in dust, (a mournful object) lay; + High on the wall some breathed their souls away. + + Far on the left, amid the throng he found + (Cheering the troops, and dealing deaths around) + The graceful Paris; whom, with fury moved, + Opprobrious thus, th' impatient chief reproved: + + "Ill-fated Paris! slave to womankind, + As smooth of face as fraudulent of mind! + Where is Deiphobus, where Asius gone? + The godlike father, and th' intrepid son? + The force of Helenus, dispensing fate; + And great Othryoneus, so fear'd of late? + Black fate hang's o'er thee from th' avenging gods, + Imperial Troy from her foundations nods; + Whelm'd in thy country's ruin shalt thou fall, + And one devouring vengeance swallow all." + + When Paris thus: "My brother and my friend, + Thy warm impatience makes thy tongue offend, + In other battles I deserved thy blame, + Though then not deedless, nor unknown to fame: + But since yon rampart by thy arms lay low, + I scatter'd slaughter from my fatal bow. + The chiefs you seek on yonder shore lie slain; + Of all those heroes, two alone remain; + Deiphobus, and Helenus the seer, + Each now disabled by a hostile spear. + Go then, successful, where thy soul inspires: + This heart and hand shall second all thy fires: + What with this arm I can, prepare to know, + Till death for death be paid, and blow for blow. + But 'tis not ours, with forces not our own + To combat: strength is of the gods alone." + These words the hero's angry mind assuage: + Then fierce they mingle where the thickest rage. + Around Polydamas, distain'd with blood, + Cebrion, Phalces, stern Orthaeus stood, + Palmus, with Polypoetes the divine, + And two bold brothers of Hippotion's line + (Who reach'd fair Ilion, from Ascania far, + The former day; the next engaged in war). + As when from gloomy clouds a whirlwind springs, + That bears Jove's thunder on its dreadful wings, + Wide o'er the blasted fields the tempest sweeps; + Then, gather'd, settles on the hoary deeps; + The afflicted deeps tumultuous mix and roar; + The waves behind impel the waves before, + Wide rolling, foaming high, and tumbling to the shore: + Thus rank on rank, the thick battalions throng, + Chief urged on chief, and man drove man along. + Far o'er the plains, in dreadful order bright, + The brazen arms reflect a beamy light: + Full in the blazing van great Hector shined, + Like Mars commission'd to confound mankind. + Before him flaming his enormous shield, + Like the broad sun, illumined all the field; + His nodding helm emits a streamy ray; + His piercing eyes through all the battle stray, + And, while beneath his targe he flash'd along, + Shot terrors round, that wither'd e'en the strong. + + Thus stalk'd he, dreadful; death was in his look: + Whole nations fear'd; but not an Argive shook. + The towering Ajax, with an ample stride, + Advanced the first, and thus the chief defied: + + "Hector! come on; thy empty threats forbear; + 'Tis not thy arm, 'tis thundering Jove we fear: + The skill of war to us not idly given, + Lo! Greece is humbled, not by Troy, but Heaven. + Vain are the hopes that haughty mind imparts, + To force our fleet: the Greeks have hands and hearts. + Long ere in flames our lofty navy fall, + Your boasted city, and your god-built wall, + Shall sink beneath us, smoking on the ground; + And spread a long unmeasured ruin round. + The time shall come, when, chased along the plain, + Even thou shalt call on Jove, and call in vain; + Even thou shalt wish, to aid thy desperate course, + The wings of falcons for thy flying horse; + Shalt run, forgetful of a warrior's fame, + While clouds of friendly dust conceal thy shame." + + As thus he spoke, behold, in open view, + On sounding wings a dexter eagle flew. + To Jove's glad omen all the Grecians rise, + And hail, with shouts, his progress through the skies: + Far-echoing clamours bound from side to side; + They ceased; and thus the chief of Troy replied: + + "From whence this menace, this insulting strain? + Enormous boaster! doom'd to vaunt in vain. + So may the gods on Hector life bestow, + (Not that short life which mortals lead below, + But such as those of Jove's high lineage born, + The blue-eyed maid, or he that gilds the morn,) + As this decisive day shall end the fame + Of Greece, and Argos be no more a name. + And thou, imperious! if thy madness wait + The lance of Hector, thou shalt meet thy fate: + That giant-corse, extended on the shore, + Shall largely feast the fowls with fat and gore." + + He said; and like a lion stalk'd along: + With shouts incessant earth and ocean rung, + Sent from his following host: the Grecian train + With answering thunders fill'd the echoing plain; + A shout that tore heaven's concave, and, above, + Shook the fix'd splendours of the throne of Jove. + + [Illustration: GREEK EARRINGS.] + + GREEK EARRINGS. + + + + + +BOOK XIV. + + +ARGUMENT.(231) + +JUNO DECEIVES JUPITER BY THE GIRDLE OF VENUS. + +Nestor, sitting at the table with Machaon, is alarmed with the increasing +clamour of war, and hastens to Agamemnon; on his way he meets that prince +with Diomed and Ulysses, whom he informs of the extremity of the danger. +Agamemnon proposes to make their escape by night, which Ulysses +withstands; to which Diomed adds his advice, that, wounded as they were, +they should go forth and encourage the army with their presence, which +advice is pursued. Juno, seeing the partiality of Jupiter to the Trojans, +forms a design to over-reach him: she sets off her charms with the utmost +care, and (the more surely to enchant him) obtains the magic girdle of +Venus. She then applies herself to the god of sleep, and, with some +difficulty, persuades him to seal the eyes of Jupiter: this done, she goes +to mount Ida, where the god, at first sight, is ravished with her beauty, +sinks in her embraces, and is laid asleep. Neptune takes advantage of his +slumber, and succours the Greeks: Hector is struck to the ground with a +prodigious stone by Ajax, and carried off from the battle: several actions +succeed, till the Trojans, much distressed, are obliged to give way: the +lesser Ajax signalizes himself in a particular manner. + + But not the genial feast, nor flowing bowl, + Could charm the cares of Nestor's watchful soul; + His startled ears the increasing cries attend; + Then thus, impatient, to his wounded friend: + + "What new alarm, divine Machaon, say, + What mix'd events attend this mighty day? + Hark! how the shouts divide, and how they meet, + And now come full, and thicken to the fleet! + Here with the cordial draught dispel thy care, + Let Hecamede the strengthening bath prepare, + Refresh thy wound, and cleanse the clotted gore; + While I the adventures of the day explore." + + He said: and, seizing Thrasymedes' shield, + (His valiant offspring,) hasten'd to the field; + (That day the son his father's buckler bore;) + Then snatch'd a lance, and issued from the door. + Soon as the prospect open'd to his view, + His wounded eyes the scene of sorrow knew; + Dire disarray! the tumult of the fight, + The wall in ruins, and the Greeks in flight. + As when old ocean's silent surface sleeps, + The waves just heaving on the purple deeps: + While yet the expected tempest hangs on high, + Weighs down the cloud, and blackens in the sky, + The mass of waters will no wind obey; + Jove sends one gust, and bids them roll away. + While wavering counsels thus his mind engage, + Fluctuates in doubtful thought the Pylian sage, + To join the host, or to the general haste; + Debating long, he fixes on the last: + Yet, as he moves, the sight his bosom warms, + The field rings dreadful with the clang of arms, + The gleaming falchions flash, the javelins fly; + Blows echo blows, and all or kill or die. + + Him, in his march, the wounded princes meet, + By tardy steps ascending from the fleet: + The king of men, Ulysses the divine, + And who to Tydeus owes his noble line.(232) + (Their ships at distance from the battle stand, + In lines advanced along the shelving strand: + Whose bay, the fleet unable to contain + At length; beside the margin of the main, + Rank above rank, the crowded ships they moor: + Who landed first, lay highest on the shore.) + Supported on the spears, they took their way, + Unfit to fight, but anxious for the day. + Nestor's approach alarm'd each Grecian breast, + Whom thus the general of the host address'd: + + "O grace and glory of the Achaian name; + What drives thee, Nestor, from the field of fame? + Shall then proud Hector see his boast fulfill'd, + Our fleets in ashes, and our heroes kill'd? + Such was his threat, ah! now too soon made good, + On many a Grecian bosom writ in blood. + Is every heart inflamed with equal rage + Against your king, nor will one chief engage? + And have I lived to see with mournful eyes + In every Greek a new Achilles rise?" + + Gerenian Nestor then: "So fate has will'd; + And all-confirming time has fate fulfill'd. + Not he that thunders from the aerial bower, + Not Jove himself, upon the past has power. + The wall, our late inviolable bound, + And best defence, lies smoking on the ground: + Even to the ships their conquering arms extend, + And groans of slaughter'd Greeks to heaven ascend. + On speedy measures then employ your thought + In such distress! if counsel profit aught: + Arms cannot much: though Mars our souls incite, + These gaping wounds withhold us from the fight." + + To him the monarch: "That our army bends, + That Troy triumphant our high fleet ascends, + And that the rampart, late our surest trust + And best defence, lies smoking in the dust; + All this from Jove's afflictive hand we bear, + Who, far from Argos, wills our ruin here. + Past are the days when happier Greece was blest, + And all his favour, all his aid confess'd; + Now heaven averse, our hands from battle ties, + And lifts the Trojan glory to the skies. + Cease we at length to waste our blood in vain, + And launch what ships lie nearest to the main; + Leave these at anchor, till the coming night: + Then, if impetuous Troy forbear the fight, + Bring all to sea, and hoist each sail for flight. + Better from evils, well foreseen, to run, + Than perish in the danger we may shun." + + Thus he. The sage Ulysses thus replied, + While anger flash'd from his disdainful eyes: + "What shameful words (unkingly as thou art) + Fall from that trembling tongue and timorous heart? + Oh were thy sway the curse of meaner powers, + And thou the shame of any host but ours! + A host, by Jove endued with martial might, + And taught to conquer, or to fall in fight: + Adventurous combats and bold wars to wage, + Employ'd our youth, and yet employs our age. + And wilt thou thus desert the Trojan plain? + And have whole streams of blood been spilt in vain? + In such base sentence if thou couch thy fear, + Speak it in whispers, lest a Greek should hear. + Lives there a man so dead to fame, who dares + To think such meanness, or the thought declares? + And comes it even from him whose sovereign sway + The banded legions of all Greece obey? + Is this a general's voice that calls to flight, + While war hangs doubtful, while his soldiers fight? + What more could Troy? What yet their fate denies + Thou givest the foe: all Greece becomes their prize. + No more the troops (our hoisted sails in view, + Themselves abandon'd) shall the fight pursue; + But thy ships flying, with despair shall see; + And owe destruction to a prince like thee." + + "Thy just reproofs (Atrides calm replies) + Like arrows pierce me, for thy words are wise. + Unwilling as I am to lose the host, + I force not Greece to quit this hateful coast; + Glad I submit, whoe'er, or young, or old, + Aught, more conducive to our weal, unfold." + + Tydides cut him short, and thus began: + "Such counsel if you seek, behold the man + Who boldly gives it, and what he shall say, + Young though he be, disdain not to obey: + A youth, who from the mighty Tydeus springs, + May speak to councils and assembled kings. + Hear then in me the great OEnides' son, + Whose honoured dust (his race of glory run) + Lies whelm'd in ruins of the Theban wall; + Brave in his life, and glorious in his fall. + With three bold sons was generous Prothous bless'd, + Who Pleuron's walls and Calydon possess'd; + Melas and Agrius, but (who far surpass'd + The rest in courage) OEneus was the last. + From him, my sire. From Calydon expell'd, + He pass'd to Argos, and in exile dwell'd; + The monarch's daughter there (so Jove ordain'd) + He won, and flourish'd where Adrastus reign'd; + There, rich in fortune's gifts, his acres till'd, + Beheld his vines their liquid harvest yield, + And numerous flocks that whiten'd all the field. + Such Tydeus was, the foremost once in fame! + Nor lives in Greece a stranger to his name. + Then, what for common good my thoughts inspire, + Attend, and in the son respect the sire. + Though sore of battle, though with wounds oppress'd, + Let each go forth, and animate the rest, + Advance the glory which he cannot share, + Though not partaker, witness of the war. + But lest new wounds on wounds o'erpower us quite, + Beyond the missile javelin's sounding flight, + Safe let us stand; and, from the tumult far, + Inspire the ranks, and rule the distant war." + + He added not: the listening kings obey, + Slow moving on; Atrides leads the way. + The god of ocean (to inflame their rage) + Appears a warrior furrowed o'er with age; + Press'd in his own, the general's hand he took, + And thus the venerable hero spoke: + + "Atrides! lo! with what disdainful eye + Achilles sees his country's forces fly; + Blind, impious man! whose anger is his guide, + Who glories in unutterable pride. + So may he perish, so may Jove disclaim + The wretch relentless, and o'erwhelm with shame! + But Heaven forsakes not thee: o'er yonder sands + Soon shall thou view the scattered Trojan bands + Fly diverse; while proud kings, and chiefs renown'd, + Driven heaps on heaps, with clouds involved around + Of rolling dust, their winged wheels employ + To hide their ignominious heads in Troy." + + He spoke, then rush'd amid the warrior crew, + And sent his voice before him as he flew, + Loud, as the shout encountering armies yield + When twice ten thousand shake the labouring field; + Such was the voice, and such the thundering sound + Of him whose trident rends the solid ground. + Each Argive bosom beats to meet the fight, + And grisly war appears a pleasing sight. + + Meantime Saturnia from Olympus' brow, + High-throned in gold, beheld the fields below; + With joy the glorious conflict she survey'd, + Where her great brother gave the Grecians aid. + But placed aloft, on Ida's shady height + She sees her Jove, and trembles at the sight. + Jove to deceive, what methods shall she try, + What arts, to blind his all-beholding eye? + At length she trusts her power; resolved to prove + The old, yet still successful, cheat of love; + Against his wisdom to oppose her charms, + And lull the lord of thunders in her arms. + + Swift to her bright apartment she repairs, + Sacred to dress and beauty's pleasing cares: + With skill divine had Vulcan form'd the bower, + Safe from access of each intruding power. + Touch'd with her secret key, the doors unfold: + Self-closed, behind her shut the valves of gold. + Here first she bathes; and round her body pours + Soft oils of fragrance, and ambrosial showers: + The winds, perfumed, the balmy gale convey + Through heaven, through earth, and all the aerial way: + Spirit divine! whose exhalation greets + The sense of gods with more than mortal sweets. + Thus while she breathed of heaven, with decent pride + Her artful hands the radiant tresses tied; + Part on her head in shining ringlets roll'd, + Part o'er her shoulders waved like melted gold. + Around her next a heavenly mantle flow'd, + That rich with Pallas' labour'd colours glow'd: + Large clasps of gold the foldings gather'd round, + A golden zone her swelling bosom bound. + Far-beaming pendants tremble in her ear, + Each gem illumined with a triple star. + Then o'er her head she cast a veil more white + Than new-fallen snow, and dazzling as the light. + Last her fair feet celestial sandals grace. + Thus issuing radiant with majestic pace, + Forth from the dome the imperial goddess moves, + And calls the mother of the smiles and loves. + + "How long (to Venus thus apart she cried) + Shall human strife celestial minds divide? + Ah yet, will Venus aid Saturnia's joy, + And set aside the cause of Greece and Troy?" + + "Let heaven's dread empress (Cytheraea said) + Speak her request, and deem her will obey'd." + + "Then grant me (said the queen) those conquering charms, + That power, which mortals and immortals warms, + That love, which melts mankind in fierce desires, + And burns the sons of heaven with sacred fires! + + "For lo! I haste to those remote abodes, + Where the great parents, (sacred source of gods!) + Ocean and Tethys their old empire keep, + On the last limits of the land and deep. + In their kind arms my tender years were past; + What time old Saturn, from Olympus cast, + Of upper heaven to Jove resign'd the reign, + Whelm'd under the huge mass of earth and main. + For strife, I hear, has made the union cease, + Which held so long that ancient pair in peace. + What honour, and what love, shall I obtain, + If I compose those fatal feuds again; + Once more their minds in mutual ties engage, + And, what my youth has owed, repay their age!" + + She said. With awe divine, the queen of love + Obey'd the sister and the wife of Jove; + And from her fragrant breast the zone embraced,(233) + With various skill and high embroidery graced. + In this was every art, and every charm, + To win the wisest, and the coldest warm: + Fond love, the gentle vow, the gay desire, + The kind deceit, the still-reviving fire, + Persuasive speech, and the more persuasive sighs, + Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes. + This on her hand the Cyprian Goddess laid: + "Take this, and with it all thy wish;" she said. + With smiles she took the charm; and smiling press'd + The powerful cestus to her snowy breast. + + Then Venus to the courts of Jove withdrew; + Whilst from Olympus pleased Saturnia flew. + O'er high Pieria thence her course she bore, + O'er fair Emathia's ever-pleasing shore, + O'er Hemus' hills with snows eternal crown'd; + Nor once her flying foot approach'd the ground. + Then taking wing from Athos' lofty steep, + She speeds to Lemnos o'er the rolling deep, + And seeks the cave of Death's half-brother, Sleep.(234) + + "Sweet pleasing Sleep! (Saturnia thus began) + Who spread'st thy empire o'er each god and man; + If e'er obsequious to thy Juno's will, + O power of slumbers! hear, and favour still. + Shed thy soft dews on Jove's immortal eyes, + While sunk in love's entrancing joys he lies. + A splendid footstool, and a throne, that shine + With gold unfading, Somnus, shall be thine; + The work of Vulcan; to indulge thy ease, + When wine and feasts thy golden humours please." + + "Imperial dame (the balmy power replies), + Great Saturn's heir, and empress of the skies! + O'er other gods I spread my easy chain; + The sire of all, old Ocean, owns my reign. + And his hush'd waves lie silent on the main. + But how, unbidden, shall I dare to steep + Jove's awful temples in the dew of sleep? + Long since, too venturous, at thy bold command, + On those eternal lids I laid my hand; + What time, deserting Ilion's wasted plain, + His conquering son, Alcides, plough'd the main. + When lo! the deeps arise, the tempests roar, + And drive the hero to the Coan shore: + Great Jove, awaking, shook the blest abodes + With rising wrath, and tumbled gods on gods; + Me chief he sought, and from the realms on high + Had hurl'd indignant to the nether sky, + But gentle Night, to whom I fled for aid, + (The friend of earth and heaven,) her wings display'd; + Impower'd the wrath of gods and men to tame, + Even Jove revered the venerable dame." + + "Vain are thy fears (the queen of heaven replies, + And, speaking, rolls her large majestic eyes); + Think'st thou that Troy has Jove's high favour won, + Like great Alcides, his all-conquering son? + Hear, and obey the mistress of the skies, + Nor for the deed expect a vulgar prize; + For know, thy loved-one shall be ever thine, + The youngest Grace, Pasithae the divine."(235) + + "Swear then (he said) by those tremendous floods + That roar through hell, and bind the invoking gods: + Let the great parent earth one hand sustain, + And stretch the other o'er the sacred main: + Call the black Titans, that with Chronos dwell, + To hear and witness from the depths of hell; + That she, my loved-one, shall be ever mine, + The youngest Grace, Pasithae the divine." + + The queen assents, and from the infernal bowers + Invokes the sable subtartarean powers, + And those who rule the inviolable floods, + Whom mortals name the dread Titanian gods. + + [Illustration: SLEEP ESCAPING FROM THE WRATH OF JUPITER.] + + SLEEP ESCAPING FROM THE WRATH OF JUPITER. + + + Then swift as wind, o'er Lemnos' smoky isle + They wing their way, and Imbrus' sea-beat soil; + Through air, unseen, involved in darkness glide, + And light on Lectos, on the point of Ide: + (Mother of savages, whose echoing hills + Are heard resounding with a hundred rills:) + Fair Ida trembles underneath the god; + Hush'd are her mountains, and her forests nod. + There on a fir, whose spiry branches rise + To join its summit to the neighbouring skies; + Dark in embowering shade, conceal'd from sight, + Sat Sleep, in likeness of the bird of night. + (Chalcis his name by those of heavenly birth, + But call'd Cymindis by the race of earth.) + + To Ida's top successful Juno flies; + Great Jove surveys her with desiring eyes: + The god, whose lightning sets the heavens on fire, + Through all his bosom feels the fierce desire; + Fierce as when first by stealth he seized her charms, + Mix'd with her soul, and melted in her arms: + Fix'd on her eyes he fed his eager look, + Then press'd her hand, and thus with transport spoke: + + "Why comes my goddess from the ethereal sky, + And not her steeds and flaming chariot nigh?" + + Then she--"I haste to those remote abodes + Where the great parents of the deathless gods, + The reverend Ocean and gray Tethys, reign, + On the last limits of the land and main. + I visit these, to whose indulgent cares + I owe the nursing of my tender years: + For strife, I hear, has made that union cease + Which held so long that ancient pair in peace. + The steeds, prepared my chariot to convey + O'er earth and seas, and through the aerial way, + Wait under Ide: of thy superior power + To ask consent, I leave the Olympian bower; + Nor seek, unknown to thee, the sacred cells + Deep under seas, where hoary Ocean dwells." + + "For that (said Jove) suffice another day! + But eager love denies the least delay. + Let softer cares the present hour employ, + And be these moments sacred all to joy. + Ne'er did my soul so strong a passion prove, + Or for an earthly, or a heavenly love: + Not when I press'd Ixion's matchless dame, + Whence rose Pirithous like the gods in fame: + Not when fair Danae felt the shower of gold + Stream into life, whence Perseus brave and bold. + Not thus I burn'd for either Theban dame: + (Bacchus from this, from that Alcides came:) + Nor Phoenix' daughter, beautiful and young, + Whence godlike Rhadamanth and Minos sprung.(236) + Not thus I burn'd for fair Latona's face, + Nor comelier Ceres' more majestic grace. + Not thus even for thyself I felt desire, + As now my veins receive the pleasing fire." + + He spoke; the goddess with the charming eyes + Glows with celestial red, and thus replies: + "Is this a scene for love? On Ida's height, + Exposed to mortal and immortal sight! + Our joys profaned by each familiar eye; + The sport of heaven, and fable of the sky: + How shall I e'er review the blest abodes, + Or mix among the senate of the gods? + Shall I not think, that, with disorder'd charms, + All heaven beholds me recent from thy arms? + With skill divine has Vulcan form'd thy bower, + Sacred to love and to the genial hour; + If such thy will, to that recess retire, + In secret there indulge thy soft desire." + + She ceased; and, smiling with superior love, + Thus answer'd mild the cloud-compelling Jove: + "Nor god nor mortal shall our joys behold, + Shaded with clouds, and circumfused in gold; + Not even the sun, who darts through heaven his rays, + And whose broad eye the extended earth surveys." + + Gazing he spoke, and, kindling at the view, + His eager arms around the goddess threw. + Glad Earth perceives, and from her bosom pours + Unbidden herbs and voluntary flowers: + Thick new-born violets a soft carpet spread, + And clustering lotos swell'd the rising bed, + And sudden hyacinths the turf bestrow,(237) + And flamy crocus made the mountain glow + There golden clouds conceal the heavenly pair, + Steep'd in soft joys and circumfused with air; + Celestial dews, descending o'er the ground, + Perfume the mount, and breathe ambrosia round: + At length, with love and sleep's soft power oppress'd, + The panting thunderer nods, and sinks to rest. + + Now to the navy borne on silent wings, + To Neptune's ear soft Sleep his message brings; + Beside him sudden, unperceived, he stood, + And thus with gentle words address'd the god: + + "Now, Neptune! now, the important hour employ, + To check a while the haughty hopes of Troy: + While Jove yet rests, while yet my vapours shed + The golden vision round his sacred head; + For Juno's love, and Somnus' pleasing ties, + Have closed those awful and eternal eyes." + Thus having said, the power of slumber flew, + On human lids to drop the balmy dew. + Neptune, with zeal increased, renews his care, + And towering in the foremost ranks of war, + Indignant thus--"Oh once of martial fame! + O Greeks! if yet ye can deserve the name! + This half-recover'd day shall Troy obtain? + Shall Hector thunder at your ships again? + Lo! still he vaunts, and threats the fleet with fires, + While stern Achilles in his wrath retires. + One hero's loss too tamely you deplore, + Be still yourselves, and ye shall need no more. + Oh yet, if glory any bosom warms, + Brace on your firmest helms, and stand to arms: + His strongest spear each valiant Grecian wield, + Each valiant Grecian seize his broadest shield; + Let to the weak the lighter arms belong, + The ponderous targe be wielded by the strong. + Thus arm'd, not Hector shall our presence stay; + Myself, ye Greeks! myself will lead the way." + + [Illustration: GREEK SHIELD.] + + GREEK SHIELD. + + + The troops assent; their martial arms they change: + The busy chiefs their banded legions range. + The kings, though wounded, and oppress'd with pain, + With helpful hands themselves assist the train. + The strong and cumbrous arms the valiant wield, + The weaker warrior takes a lighter shield. + Thus sheath'd in shining brass, in bright array + The legions march, and Neptune leads the way: + His brandish'd falchion flames before their eyes, + Like lightning flashing through the frighted skies. + Clad in his might, the earth-shaking power appears; + Pale mortals tremble, and confess their fears. + + Troy's great defender stands alone unawed, + Arms his proud host, and dares oppose a god: + And lo! the god, and wondrous man, appear: + The sea's stern ruler there, and Hector here. + The roaring main, at her great master's call, + Rose in huge ranks, and form'd a watery wall + Around the ships: seas hanging o'er the shores, + Both armies join: earth thunders, ocean roars. + Not half so loud the bellowing deeps resound, + When stormy winds disclose the dark profound; + Less loud the winds that from the AEolian hall + Roar through the woods, and make whole forests fall; + Less loud the woods, when flames in torrents pour, + Catch the dry mountain, and its shades devour; + With such a rage the meeting hosts are driven, + And such a clamour shakes the sounding heaven. + The first bold javelin, urged by Hector's force, + Direct at Ajax' bosom winged its course; + But there no pass the crossing belts afford, + (One braced his shield, and one sustain'd his sword.) + Then back the disappointed Trojan drew, + And cursed the lance that unavailing flew: + But 'scaped not Ajax; his tempestuous hand + A ponderous stone upheaving from the sand, + (Where heaps laid loose beneath the warrior's feet, + Or served to ballast, or to prop the fleet,) + Toss'd round and round, the missive marble flings; + On the razed shield the fallen ruin rings, + Full on his breast and throat with force descends; + Nor deaden'd there its giddy fury spends, + But whirling on, with many a fiery round, + Smokes in the dust, and ploughs into the ground. + As when the bolt, red-hissing from above, + Darts on the consecrated plant of Jove, + The mountain-oak in flaming ruin lies, + Black from the blow, and smokes of sulphur rise; + Stiff with amaze the pale beholders stand, + And own the terrors of the almighty hand! + So lies great Hector prostrate on the shore; + His slacken'd hand deserts the lance it bore; + His following shield the fallen chief o'erspread; + Beneath his helmet dropp'd his fainting head; + His load of armour, sinking to the ground, + Clanks on the field, a dead and hollow sound. + Loud shouts of triumph fill the crowded plain; + Greece sees, in hope, Troy's great defender slain: + All spring to seize him; storms of arrows fly, + And thicker javelins intercept the sky. + In vain an iron tempest hisses round; + He lies protected, and without a wound.(238) + Polydamas, Agenor the divine, + The pious warrior of Anchises' line, + And each bold leader of the Lycian band, + With covering shields (a friendly circle) stand, + His mournful followers, with assistant care, + The groaning hero to his chariot bear; + His foaming coursers, swifter than the wind, + Speed to the town, and leave the war behind. + + When now they touch'd the mead's enamell'd side, + Where gentle Xanthus rolls his easy tide, + With watery drops the chief they sprinkle round, + Placed on the margin of the flowery ground. + Raised on his knees, he now ejects the gore; + Now faints anew, low-sinking on the shore; + By fits he breathes, half views the fleeting skies, + And seals again, by fits, his swimming eyes. + + Soon as the Greeks the chief's retreat beheld, + With double fury each invades the field. + Oilean Ajax first his javelin sped, + Pierced by whose point the son of Enops bled; + (Satnius the brave, whom beauteous Neis bore + Amidst her flocks on Satnio's silver shore;) + Struck through the belly's rim, the warrior lies + Supine, and shades eternal veil his eyes. + An arduous battle rose around the dead; + By turns the Greeks, by turns the Trojans bled. + + Fired with revenge, Polydamas drew near, + And at Prothoenor shook the trembling spear; + The driving javelin through his shoulder thrust, + He sinks to earth, and grasps the bloody dust. + "Lo thus (the victor cries) we rule the field, + And thus their arms the race of Panthus wield: + From this unerring hand there flies no dart + But bathes its point within a Grecian heart. + Propp'd on that spear to which thou owest thy fall, + Go, guide thy darksome steps to Pluto's dreary hall." + + He said, and sorrow touch'd each Argive breast: + The soul of Ajax burn'd above the rest. + As by his side the groaning warrior fell, + At the fierce foe he launch'd his piercing steel; + The foe, reclining, shunn'd the flying death; + But fate, Archilochus, demands thy breath: + Thy lofty birth no succour could impart, + The wings of death o'ertook thee on the dart; + Swift to perform heaven's fatal will, it fled + Full on the juncture of the neck and head, + And took the joint, and cut the nerves in twain: + The dropping head first tumbled on the plain. + So just the stroke, that yet the body stood + Erect, then roll'd along the sands in blood. + + "Here, proud Polydamas, here turn thy eyes! + (The towering Ajax loud-insulting cries:) + Say, is this chief extended on the plain + A worthy vengeance for Prothoenor slain? + Mark well his port! his figure and his face + Nor speak him vulgar, nor of vulgar race; + Some lines, methinks, may make his lineage known, + Antenor's brother, or perhaps his son." + + He spake, and smiled severe, for well he knew + The bleeding youth: Troy sadden'd at the view. + But furious Acamas avenged his cause; + As Promachus his slaughtered brother draws, + He pierced his heart--"Such fate attends you all, + Proud Argives! destined by our arms to fall. + Not Troy alone, but haughty Greece, shall share + The toils, the sorrows, and the wounds of war. + Behold your Promachus deprived of breath, + A victim owed to my brave brother's death. + Not unappeased he enters Pluto's gate, + Who leaves a brother to revenge his fate." + + Heart-piercing anguish struck the Grecian host, + But touch'd the breast of bold Peneleus most; + At the proud boaster he directs his course; + The boaster flies, and shuns superior force. + But young Ilioneus received the spear; + Ilioneus, his father's only care: + (Phorbas the rich, of all the Trojan train + Whom Hermes loved, and taught the arts of gain:) + Full in his eye the weapon chanced to fall, + And from the fibres scoop'd the rooted ball, + Drove through the neck, and hurl'd him to the plain; + He lifts his miserable arms in vain! + Swift his broad falchion fierce Peneleus spread, + And from the spouting shoulders struck his head; + To earth at once the head and helmet fly; + The lance, yet sticking through the bleeding eye, + The victor seized; and, as aloft he shook + The gory visage, thus insulting spoke: + + "Trojans! your great Ilioneus behold! + Haste, to his father let the tale be told: + Let his high roofs resound with frantic woe, + Such as the house of Promachus must know; + Let doleful tidings greet his mother's ear, + Such as to Promachus' sad spouse we bear, + When we victorious shall to Greece return, + And the pale matron in our triumphs mourn." + + Dreadful he spoke, then toss'd the head on high; + The Trojans hear, they tremble, and they fly: + Aghast they gaze around the fleet and wall, + And dread the ruin that impends on all. + + Daughters of Jove! that on Olympus shine, + Ye all-beholding, all-recording nine! + O say, when Neptune made proud Ilion yield, + What chief, what hero first embrued the field? + Of all the Grecians what immortal name, + And whose bless'd trophies, will ye raise to fame? + + Thou first, great Ajax! on the unsanguined plain + Laid Hyrtius, leader of the Mysian train. + Phalces and Mermer, Nestor's son o'erthrew, + Bold Merion, Morys and Hippotion slew. + Strong Periphaetes and Prothoon bled, + By Teucer's arrows mingled with the dead, + Pierced in the flank by Menelaus' steel, + His people's pastor, Hyperenor fell; + Eternal darkness wrapp'd the warrior round, + And the fierce soul came rushing through the wound. + But stretch'd in heaps before Oileus' son, + Fall mighty numbers, mighty numbers run; + Ajax the less, of all the Grecian race + Skill'd in pursuit, and swiftest in the chase. + + [Illustration: BACCHUS.] + + BACCHUS. + + + + + +BOOK XV. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE FIFTH BATTLE AT THE SHIPS; AND THE ACTS OF AJAX. + +Jupiter, awaking, sees the Trojans repulsed from the trenches, Hector in a +swoon, and Neptune at the head of the Greeks: he is highly incensed at the +artifice of Juno, who appeases him by her submissions; she is then sent to +Iris and Apollo. Juno, repairing to the assembly of the gods, attempts, +with extraordinary address, to incense them against Jupiter; in particular +she touches Mars with a violent resentment; he is ready to take arms, but +is prevented by Minerva. Iris and Apollo obey the orders of Jupiter; Iris +commands Neptune to leave the battle, to which, after much reluctance and +passion, he consents. Apollo reinspires Hector with vigour, brings him +back to the battle, marches before him with his aegis, and turns the +fortune of the fight. He breaks down great part of the Grecian wall: the +Trojans rush in, and attempt to fire the first line of the fleet, but are, +as yet, repelled by the greater Ajax with a prodigious slaughter. + + Now in swift flight they pass the trench profound, + And many a chief lay gasping on the ground: + Then stopp'd and panted, where the chariots lie + Fear on their cheek, and horror in their eye. + Meanwhile, awaken'd from his dream of love, + On Ida's summit sat imperial Jove: + Round the wide fields he cast a careful view, + There saw the Trojans fly, the Greeks pursue; + These proud in arms, those scatter'd o'er the plain + And, 'midst the war, the monarch of the main. + Not far, great Hector on the dust he spies, + (His sad associates round with weeping eyes,) + Ejecting blood, and panting yet for breath, + His senses wandering to the verge of death. + The god beheld him with a pitying look, + And thus, incensed, to fraudful Juno spoke: + + "O thou, still adverse to the eternal will, + For ever studious in promoting ill! + Thy arts have made the godlike Hector yield, + And driven his conquering squadrons from the field. + Canst thou, unhappy in thy wiles, withstand + Our power immense, and brave the almighty hand? + Hast thou forgot, when, bound and fix'd on high, + From the vast concave of the spangled sky, + I hung thee trembling in a golden chain, + And all the raging gods opposed in vain? + Headlong I hurl'd them from the Olympian hall, + Stunn'd in the whirl, and breathless with the fall. + For godlike Hercules these deeds were done, + Nor seem'd the vengeance worthy such a son: + When, by thy wiles induced, fierce Boreas toss'd + The shipwreck'd hero on the Coan coast, + Him through a thousand forms of death I bore, + And sent to Argos, and his native shore. + Hear this, remember, and our fury dread, + Nor pull the unwilling vengeance on thy head; + Lest arts and blandishments successless prove, + Thy soft deceits, and well-dissembled love." + + The Thunderer spoke: imperial Juno mourn'd, + And, trembling, these submissive words return'd: + + "By every oath that powers immortal ties, + The foodful earth and all-infolding skies; + By thy black waves, tremendous Styx! that flow + Through the drear realms of gliding ghosts below; + By the dread honours of thy sacred head, + And that unbroken vow, our virgin bed! + Not by my arts the ruler of the main + Steeps Troy in blood, and ranges round the plain: + By his own ardour, his own pity sway'd, + To help his Greeks, he fought and disobey'd: + Else had thy Juno better counsels given, + And taught submission to the sire of heaven." + + "Think'st thou with me? fair empress of the skies! + (The immortal father with a smile replies;) + Then soon the haughty sea-god shall obey, + Nor dare to act but when we point the way. + If truth inspires thy tongue, proclaim our will + To yon bright synod on the Olympian hill; + Our high decree let various Iris know, + And call the god that bears the silver bow. + Let her descend, and from the embattled plain + Command the sea-god to his watery reign: + While Phoebus hastes great Hector to prepare + To rise afresh, and once more wake the war: + His labouring bosom re-inspires with breath, + And calls his senses from the verge of death. + Greece chased by Troy, even to Achilles' fleet, + Shall fall by thousands at the hero's feet. + He, not untouch'd with pity, to the plain + Shall send Patroclus, but shall send in vain. + What youths he slaughters under Ilion's walls! + Even my loved son, divine Sarpedon, falls! + Vanquish'd at last by Hector's lance he lies. + Then, nor till then, shall great Achilles rise: + And lo! that instant, godlike Hector dies. + From that great hour the war's whole fortune turns, + Pallas assists, and lofty Ilion burns. + Not till that day shall Jove relax his rage, + Nor one of all the heavenly host engage + In aid of Greece. The promise of a god + I gave, and seal'd it with the almighty nod, + Achilles' glory to the stars to raise; + Such was our word, and fate the word obeys." + + The trembling queen (the almighty order given) + Swift from the Idaean summit shot to heaven. + As some wayfaring man, who wanders o'er + In thought a length of lands he trod before, + Sends forth his active mind from place to place, + Joins hill to dale, and measures space with space: + So swift flew Juno to the bless'd abodes, + If thought of man can match the speed of gods. + There sat the powers in awful synod placed; + They bow'd, and made obeisance as she pass'd + Through all the brazen dome: with goblets crown'd(239) + They hail her queen; the nectar streams around. + Fair Themis first presents the golden bowl, + And anxious asks what cares disturb her soul? + + To whom the white-arm'd goddess thus replies: + "Enough thou know'st the tyrant of the skies, + Severely bent his purpose to fulfil, + Unmoved his mind, and unrestrain'd his will. + Go thou, the feasts of heaven attend thy call; + Bid the crown'd nectar circle round the hall: + But Jove shall thunder through the ethereal dome + Such stern decrees, such threaten'd woes to come, + As soon shall freeze mankind with dire surprise, + And damp the eternal banquets of the skies." + + The goddess said, and sullen took her place; + Black horror sadden'd each celestial face. + To see the gathering grudge in every breast, + Smiles on her lips a spleenful joy express'd; + While on her wrinkled front, and eyebrow bent, + Sat stedfast care, and lowering discontent. + Thus she proceeds--"Attend, ye powers above! + But know, 'tis madness to contest with Jove: + Supreme he sits; and sees, in pride of sway. + Your vassal godheads grudgingly obey: + Fierce in the majesty of power controls; + Shakes all the thrones of heaven, and bends the poles. + Submiss, immortals! all he wills, obey: + And thou, great Mars, begin and show the way. + Behold Ascalaphus! behold him die, + But dare not murmur, dare not vent a sigh; + Thy own loved boasted offspring lies o'erthrown, + If that loved boasted offspring be thy own." + + Stern Mars, with anguish for his slaughter'd son, + Smote his rebelling breast, and fierce begun: + "Thus then, immortals! thus shall Mars obey; + Forgive me, gods, and yield my vengeance way: + Descending first to yon forbidden plain, + The god of battles dares avenge the slain; + Dares, though the thunder bursting o'er my head + Should hurl me blazing on those heaps of dead." + + With that he gives command to Fear and Flight + To join his rapid coursers for the fight: + Then grim in arms, with hasty vengeance flies; + Arms that reflect a radiance through the skies. + And now had Jove, by bold rebellion driven, + Discharged his wrath on half the host of heaven; + But Pallas, springing through the bright abode, + Starts from her azure throne to calm the god. + Struck for the immortal race with timely fear, + From frantic Mars she snatch'd the shield and spear; + Then the huge helmet lifting from his head, + Thus to the impetuous homicide she said: + + "By what wild passion, furious! art thou toss'd? + Striv'st thou with Jove? thou art already lost. + Shall not the Thunderer's dread command restrain, + And was imperial Juno heard in vain? + Back to the skies wouldst thou with shame be driven, + And in thy guilt involve the host of heaven? + Ilion and Greece no more should Jove engage, + The skies would yield an ampler scene of rage; + Guilty and guiltless find an equal fate + And one vast ruin whelm the Olympian state. + Cease then thy offspring's death unjust to call; + Heroes as great have died, and yet shall fall. + Why should heaven's law with foolish man comply + Exempted from the race ordain'd to die?" + + This menace fix'd the warrior to his throne; + Sullen he sat, and curb'd the rising groan. + Then Juno call'd (Jove's orders to obey) + The winged Iris, and the god of day. + "Go wait the Thunderer's will (Saturnia cried) + On yon tall summit of the fountful Ide: + There in the father's awful presence stand, + Receive, and execute his dread command." + + She said, and sat; the god that gilds the day, + And various Iris, wing their airy way. + Swift as the wind, to Ida's hills they came, + (Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage game) + There sat the eternal; he whose nod controls + The trembling world, and shakes the steady poles. + Veil'd in a mist of fragrance him they found, + With clouds of gold and purple circled round. + Well-pleased the Thunderer saw their earnest care, + And prompt obedience to the queen of air; + Then (while a smile serenes his awful brow) + Commands the goddess of the showery bow: + + "Iris! descend, and what we here ordain, + Report to yon mad tyrant of the main. + Bid him from fight to his own deeps repair, + Or breathe from slaughter in the fields of air. + If he refuse, then let him timely weigh + Our elder birthright, and superior sway. + How shall his rashness stand the dire alarms, + If heaven's omnipotence descend in arms? + Strives he with me, by whom his power was given, + And is there equal to the lord of heaven?" + + The all-mighty spoke; the goddess wing'd her flight + To sacred Ilion from the Idaean height. + Swift as the rattling hail, or fleecy snows, + Drive through the skies, when Boreas fiercely blows; + So from the clouds descending Iris falls, + And to blue Neptune thus the goddess calls: + + "Attend the mandate of the sire above! + In me behold the messenger of Jove: + He bids thee from forbidden wars repair + To thine own deeps, or to the fields of air. + This if refused, he bids thee timely weigh + His elder birthright, and superior sway. + How shall thy rashness stand the dire alarms + If heaven's omnipotence descend in arms? + Striv'st thou with him by whom all power is given? + And art thou equal to the lord of heaven?" + + "What means the haughty sovereign of the skies? + (The king of ocean thus, incensed, replies;) + Rule as he will his portion'd realms on high; + No vassal god, nor of his train, am I. + Three brother deities from Saturn came, + And ancient Rhea, earth's immortal dame: + Assign'd by lot, our triple rule we know; + Infernal Pluto sways the shades below; + O'er the wide clouds, and o'er the starry plain, + Ethereal Jove extends his high domain; + My court beneath the hoary waves I keep, + And hush the roarings of the sacred deep; + Olympus, and this earth, in common lie: + What claim has here the tyrant of the sky? + Far in the distant clouds let him control, + And awe the younger brothers of the pole; + There to his children his commands be given, + The trembling, servile, second race of heaven." + + "And must I then (said she), O sire of floods! + Bear this fierce answer to the king of gods? + Correct it yet, and change thy rash intent; + A noble mind disdains not to repent. + To elder brothers guardian fiends are given, + To scourge the wretch insulting them and heaven." + + "Great is the profit (thus the god rejoin'd) + When ministers are blest with prudent mind: + Warn'd by thy words, to powerful Jove I yield, + And quit, though angry, the contended field: + Not but his threats with justice I disclaim, + The same our honours, and our birth the same. + If yet, forgetful of his promise given + To Hermes, Pallas, and the queen of heaven, + To favour Ilion, that perfidious place, + He breaks his faith with half the ethereal race; + Give him to know, unless the Grecian train + Lay yon proud structures level with the plain, + Howe'er the offence by other gods be pass'd, + The wrath of Neptune shall for ever last." + + Thus speaking, furious from the field he strode, + And plunged into the bosom of the flood. + The lord of thunders, from his lofty height + Beheld, and thus bespoke the source of light: + + "Behold! the god whose liquid arms are hurl'd + Around the globe, whose earthquakes rock the world, + Desists at length his rebel-war to wage, + Seeks his own seas, and trembles at our rage; + Else had my wrath, heaven's thrones all shaking round, + Burn'd to the bottom of his seas profound; + And all the gods that round old Saturn dwell + Had heard the thunders to the deeps of hell. + Well was the crime, and well the vengeance spared; + Even power immense had found such battle hard. + Go thou, my son! the trembling Greeks alarm, + Shake my broad aegis on thy active arm, + Be godlike Hector thy peculiar care, + Swell his bold heart, and urge his strength to war: + Let Ilion conquer, till the Achaian train + Fly to their ships and Hellespont again: + Then Greece shall breathe from toils." The godhead said; + His will divine the son of Jove obey'd. + Not half so swift the sailing falcon flies, + That drives a turtle through the liquid skies, + As Phoebus, shooting from the Idaean brow, + Glides down the mountain to the plain below. + There Hector seated by the stream he sees, + His sense returning with the coming breeze; + Again his pulses beat, his spirits rise; + Again his loved companions meet his eyes; + Jove thinking of his pains, they pass'd away, + To whom the god who gives the golden day: + + "Why sits great Hector from the field so far? + What grief, what wound, withholds thee from the war?" + + The fainting hero, as the vision bright + Stood shining o'er him, half unseal'd his sight: + + "What blest immortal, with commanding breath, + Thus wakens Hector from the sleep of death? + Has fame not told, how, while my trusty sword + Bathed Greece in slaughter, and her battle gored, + The mighty Ajax with a deadly blow + Had almost sunk me to the shades below? + Even yet, methinks, the gliding ghosts I spy, + And hell's black horrors swim before my eye." + + To him Apollo: "Be no more dismay'd; + See, and be strong! the Thunderer sends thee aid. + Behold! thy Phoebus shall his arms employ, + Phoebus, propitious still to thee and Troy. + Inspire thy warriors then with manly force, + And to the ships impel thy rapid horse: + Even I will make thy fiery coursers way, + And drive the Grecians headlong to the sea." + + Thus to bold Hector spoke the son of Jove, + And breathed immortal ardour from above. + As when the pamper'd steed, with reins unbound, + Breaks from his stall, and pours along the ground; + With ample strokes he rushes to the flood, + To bathe his sides, and cool his fiery blood; + His head, now freed, he tosses to the skies; + His mane dishevell'd o'er his shoulders flies: + He snuffs the females in the well-known plain, + And springs, exulting, to his fields again: + Urged by the voice divine, thus Hector flew, + Full of the god; and all his hosts pursue. + As when the force of men and dogs combined + Invade the mountain goat, or branching hind; + Far from the hunter's rage secure they lie + Close in the rock, (not fated yet to die) + When lo! a lion shoots across the way! + They fly: at once the chasers and the prey. + So Greece, that late in conquering troops pursued, + And mark'd their progress through the ranks in blood, + Soon as they see the furious chief appear, + Forget to vanquish, and consent to fear. + + Thoas with grief observed his dreadful course, + Thoas, the bravest of the AEtolian force; + Skill'd to direct the javelin's distant flight, + And bold to combat in the standing fight, + Not more in councils famed for solid sense, + Than winning words and heavenly eloquence. + "Gods! what portent (he cried) these eyes invades? + Lo! Hector rises from the Stygian shades! + We saw him, late, by thundering Ajax kill'd: + What god restores him to the frighted field; + And not content that half of Greece lie slain, + Pours new destruction on her sons again? + He comes not, Jove! without thy powerful will; + Lo! still he lives, pursues, and conquers still! + Yet hear my counsel, and his worst withstand: + The Greeks' main body to the fleet command; + But let the few whom brisker spirits warm, + Stand the first onset, and provoke the storm. + Thus point your arms; and when such foes appear, + Fierce as he is, let Hector learn to fear." + + The warrior spoke; the listening Greeks obey, + Thickening their ranks, and form a deep array. + + Each Ajax, Teucer, Merion gave command, + The valiant leader of the Cretan band; + And Mars-like Meges: these the chiefs excite, + Approach the foe, and meet the coming fight. + Behind, unnumber'd multitudes attend, + To flank the navy, and the shores defend. + Full on the front the pressing Trojans bear, + And Hector first came towering to the war. + Phoebus himself the rushing battle led; + A veil of clouds involved his radiant head: + High held before him, Jove's enormous shield + Portentous shone, and shaded all the field; + Vulcan to Jove the immortal gift consign'd, + To scatter hosts and terrify mankind, + The Greeks expect the shock, the clamours rise + From different parts, and mingle in the skies. + Dire was the hiss of darts, by heroes flung, + And arrows leaping from the bow-string sung; + These drink the life of generous warriors slain: + Those guiltless fall, and thirst for blood in vain. + As long as Phoebus bore unmoved the shield, + Sat doubtful conquest hovering o'er the field; + But when aloft he shakes it in the skies, + Shouts in their ears, and lightens in their eyes, + Deep horror seizes every Grecian breast, + Their force is humbled, and their fear confess'd. + So flies a herd of oxen, scatter'd wide, + No swain to guard them, and no day to guide, + When two fell lions from the mountain come, + And spread the carnage through the shady gloom. + Impending Phoebus pours around them fear, + And Troy and Hector thunder in the rear. + Heaps fall on heaps: the slaughter Hector leads, + First great Arcesilas, then Stichius bleeds; + One to the bold Boeotians ever dear, + And one Menestheus' friend and famed compeer. + Medon and Iasus, AEneas sped; + This sprang from Phelus, and the Athenians led; + But hapless Medon from Oileus came; + Him Ajax honour'd with a brother's name, + Though born of lawless love: from home expell'd, + A banish'd man, in Phylace he dwell'd, + Press'd by the vengeance of an angry wife; + Troy ends at last his labours and his life. + Mecystes next Polydamas o'erthrew; + And thee, brave Clonius, great Agenor slew. + By Paris, Deiochus inglorious dies, + Pierced through the shoulder as he basely flies. + Polites' arm laid Echius on the plain; + Stretch'd on one heap, the victors spoil the slain. + The Greeks dismay'd, confused, disperse or fall, + Some seek the trench, some skulk behind the wall. + While these fly trembling, others pant for breath, + And o'er the slaughter stalks gigantic death. + On rush'd bold Hector, gloomy as the night; + Forbids to plunder, animates the fight, + Points to the fleet: "For, by the gods! who flies,(240) + Who dares but linger, by this hand he dies; + No weeping sister his cold eye shall close, + No friendly hand his funeral pyre compose. + Who stops to plunder at this signal hour, + The birds shall tear him, and the dogs devour." + Furious he said; the smarting scourge resounds; + The coursers fly; the smoking chariot bounds; + The hosts rush on; loud clamours shake the shore; + The horses thunder, earth and ocean roar! + Apollo, planted at the trench's bound, + Push'd at the bank: down sank the enormous mound: + Roll'd in the ditch the heapy ruin lay; + A sudden road! a long and ample way. + O'er the dread fosse (a late impervious space) + Now steeds, and men, and cars tumultuous pass. + The wondering crowds the downward level trod; + Before them flamed the shield, and march'd the god. + Then with his hand he shook the mighty wall; + And lo! the turrets nod, the bulwarks fall: + Easy as when ashore an infant stands, + And draws imagined houses in the sands; + The sportive wanton, pleased with some new play, + Sweeps the slight works and fashion'd domes away: + Thus vanish'd at thy touch, the towers and walls; + The toil of thousands in a moment falls. + + The Grecians gaze around with wild despair, + Confused, and weary all the powers with prayer: + Exhort their men, with praises, threats, commands; + And urge the gods, with voices, eyes, and hands. + Experienced Nestor chief obtests the skies, + And weeps his country with a father's eyes. + + "O Jove! if ever, on his native shore, + One Greek enrich'd thy shrine with offer'd gore; + If e'er, in hope our country to behold, + We paid the fattest firstlings of the fold; + If e'er thou sign'st our wishes with thy nod: + Perform the promise of a gracious god! + This day preserve our navies from the flame, + And save the relics of the Grecian name." + + Thus prayed the sage: the eternal gave consent, + And peals of thunder shook the firmament. + Presumptuous Troy mistook the accepting sign, + And catch'd new fury at the voice divine. + As, when black tempests mix the seas and skies, + The roaring deeps in watery mountains rise, + Above the sides of some tall ship ascend, + Its womb they deluge, and its ribs they rend: + Thus loudly roaring, and o'erpowering all, + Mount the thick Trojans up the Grecian wall; + Legions on legions from each side arise: + Thick sound the keels; the storm of arrows flies. + Fierce on the ships above, the cars below, + These wield the mace, and those the javelin throw. + + While thus the thunder of the battle raged, + And labouring armies round the works engaged, + Still in the tent Patroclus sat to tend + The good Eurypylus, his wounded friend. + He sprinkles healing balms, to anguish kind, + And adds discourse, the medicine of the mind. + But when he saw, ascending up the fleet, + Victorious Troy; then, starting from his seat, + With bitter groans his sorrows he express'd, + He wrings his hands, he beats his manly breast. + "Though yet thy state require redress (he cries) + Depart I must: what horrors strike my eyes! + Charged with Achilles' high command I go, + A mournful witness of this scene of woe; + I haste to urge him by his country's care + To rise in arms, and shine again in war. + Perhaps some favouring god his soul may bend; + The voice is powerful of a faithful friend." + + He spoke; and, speaking, swifter than the wind + Sprung from the tent, and left the war behind. + The embodied Greeks the fierce attack sustain, + But strive, though numerous, to repulse in vain: + Nor could the Trojans, through that firm array, + Force to the fleet and tents the impervious way. + As when a shipwright, with Palladian art, + Smooths the rough wood, and levels every part; + With equal hand he guides his whole design, + By the just rule, and the directing line: + The martial leaders, with like skill and care, + Preserved their line, and equal kept the war. + Brave deeds of arms through all the ranks were tried, + And every ship sustained an equal tide. + At one proud bark, high-towering o'er the fleet, + Ajax the great, and godlike Hector meet; + For one bright prize the matchless chiefs contend, + Nor this the ships can fire, nor that defend: + One kept the shore, and one the vessel trod; + That fix'd as fate, this acted by a god. + The son of Clytius in his daring hand, + The deck approaching, shakes a flaming brand; + But, pierced by Telamon's huge lance, expires: + Thundering he falls, and drops the extinguish'd fires. + Great Hector view'd him with a sad survey, + As stretch'd in dust before the stern he lay. + "Oh! all of Trojan, all of Lycian race! + Stand to your arms, maintain this arduous space: + Lo! where the son of royal Clytius lies; + Ah, save his arms, secure his obsequies!" + + This said, his eager javelin sought the foe: + But Ajax shunn'd the meditated blow. + Not vainly yet the forceful lance was thrown; + It stretch'd in dust unhappy Lycophron: + An exile long, sustain'd at Ajax' board, + A faithful servant to a foreign lord; + In peace, and war, for ever at his side, + Near his loved master, as he lived, he died. + From the high poop he tumbles on the sand, + And lies a lifeless load along the land. + With anguish Ajax views the piercing sight, + And thus inflames his brother to the fight: + + "Teucer, behold! extended on the shore + Our friend, our loved companion! now no more! + Dear as a parent, with a parent's care + To fight our wars he left his native air. + This death deplored, to Hector's rage we owe; + Revenge, revenge it on the cruel foe. + Where are those darts on which the fates attend? + And where the bow which Phoebus taught to bend?" + + Impatient Teucer, hastening to his aid, + Before the chief his ample bow display'd; + The well-stored quiver on his shoulders hung: + Then hiss'd his arrow, and the bowstring sung. + Clytus, Pisenor's son, renown'd in fame, + (To thee, Polydamas! an honour'd name) + Drove through the thickest of the embattled plains + The startling steeds, and shook his eager reins. + As all on glory ran his ardent mind, + The pointed death arrests him from behind: + Through his fair neck the thrilling arrow flies; + In youth's first bloom reluctantly he dies. + Hurl'd from the lofty seat, at distance far, + The headlong coursers spurn his empty car; + Till sad Polydamas the steeds restrain'd, + And gave, Astynous, to thy careful hand; + Then, fired to vengeance, rush'd amidst the foe: + Rage edged his sword, and strengthen'd every blow. + + Once more bold Teucer, in his country's cause, + At Hector's breast a chosen arrow draws: + And had the weapon found the destined way, + Thy fall, great Trojan! had renown'd that day. + But Hector was not doom'd to perish then: + The all-wise disposer of the fates of men + (Imperial Jove) his present death withstands; + Nor was such glory due to Teucer's hands. + At its full stretch as the tough string he drew, + Struck by an arm unseen, it burst in two; + Down dropp'd the bow: the shaft with brazen head + Fell innocent, and on the dust lay dead. + The astonish'd archer to great Ajax cries; + "Some god prevents our destined enterprise: + Some god, propitious to the Trojan foe, + Has, from my arm unfailing, struck the bow, + And broke the nerve my hands had twined with art, + Strong to impel the flight of many a dart." + + "Since heaven commands it (Ajax made reply) + Dismiss the bow, and lay thy arrows by: + Thy arms no less suffice the lance to wield, + And quit the quiver for the ponderous shield. + In the first ranks indulge thy thirst of fame, + Thy brave example shall the rest inflame. + Fierce as they are, by long successes vain; + To force our fleet, or even a ship to gain, + Asks toil, and sweat, and blood: their utmost might + Shall find its match--No more: 'tis ours to fight." + + Then Teucer laid his faithless bow aside; + The fourfold buckler o'er his shoulder tied; + On his brave head a crested helm he placed, + With nodding horse-hair formidably graced; + A dart, whose point with brass refulgent shines, + The warrior wields; and his great brother joins. + + This Hector saw, and thus express'd his joy: + "Ye troops of Lycia, Dardanus, and Troy! + Be mindful of yourselves, your ancient fame, + And spread your glory with the navy's flame. + Jove is with us; I saw his hand, but now, + From the proud archer strike his vaunted bow: + Indulgent Jove! how plain thy favours shine, + When happy nations bear the marks divine! + How easy then, to see the sinking state + Of realms accursed, deserted, reprobate! + Such is the fate of Greece, and such is ours: + Behold, ye warriors, and exert your powers. + Death is the worst; a fate which all must try; + And for our country, 'tis a bliss to die. + The gallant man, though slain in fight he be, + Yet leaves his nation safe, his children free; + Entails a debt on all the grateful state; + His own brave friends shall glory in his fate; + His wife live honour'd, all his race succeed, + And late posterity enjoy the deed!" + + This roused the soul in every Trojan breast: + The godlike Ajax next his Greeks address'd: + + "How long, ye warriors of the Argive race, + (To generous Argos what a dire disgrace!) + How long on these cursed confines will ye lie, + Yet undetermined, or to live or die? + What hopes remain, what methods to retire, + If once your vessels catch the Trojan fire? + Make how the flames approach, how near they fall, + How Hector calls, and Troy obeys his call! + Not to the dance that dreadful voice invites, + It calls to death, and all the rage of fights. + 'Tis now no time for wisdom or debates; + To your own hands are trusted all your fates; + And better far in one decisive strife, + One day should end our labour or our life, + Than keep this hard-got inch of barren sands, + Still press'd, and press'd by such inglorious hands." + + The listening Grecians feel their leader's flame, + And every kindling bosom pants for fame. + Then mutual slaughters spread on either side; + By Hector here the Phocian Schedius died; + There, pierced by Ajax, sunk Laodamas, + Chief of the foot, of old Antenor's race. + Polydamas laid Otus on the sand, + The fierce commander of the Epeian band. + His lance bold Meges at the victor threw; + The victor, stooping, from the death withdrew; + (That valued life, O Phoebus! was thy care) + But Croesmus' bosom took the flying spear: + His corpse fell bleeding on the slippery shore; + His radiant arms triumphant Meges bore. + Dolops, the son of Lampus, rushes on, + Sprung from the race of old Laomedon, + And famed for prowess in a well-fought field, + He pierced the centre of his sounding shield: + But Meges, Phyleus' ample breastplate wore, + (Well-known in fight on Selle's winding shore; + For king Euphetes gave the golden mail, + Compact, and firm with many a jointed scale) + Which oft, in cities storm'd, and battles won, + Had saved the father, and now saves the son. + Full at the Trojan's head he urged his lance, + Where the high plumes above the helmet dance, + New ting'd with Tyrian dye: in dust below, + Shorn from the crest, the purple honours glow. + Meantime their fight the Spartan king survey'd, + And stood by Meges' side a sudden aid. + Through Dolops' shoulder urged his forceful dart, + Which held its passage through the panting heart, + And issued at his breast. With thundering sound + The warrior falls, extended on the ground. + In rush the conquering Greeks to spoil the slain: + But Hector's voice excites his kindred train; + The hero most, from Hicetaon sprung, + Fierce Melanippus, gallant, brave, and young. + He (ere to Troy the Grecians cross'd the main) + Fed his large oxen on Percote's plain; + But when oppress'd, his country claim'd his care, + Return'd to Ilion, and excell'd in war; + For this, in Priam's court, he held his place, + Beloved no less than Priam's royal race. + Him Hector singled, as his troops he led, + And thus inflamed him, pointing to the dead. + + "Lo, Melanippus! lo, where Dolops lies; + And is it thus our royal kinsman dies? + O'ermatch'd he falls; to two at once a prey, + And lo! they bear the bloody arms away! + Come on--a distant war no longer wage, + But hand to hand thy country's foes engage: + Till Greece at once, and all her glory end; + Or Ilion from her towery height descend, + Heaved from the lowest stone; and bury all + In one sad sepulchre, one common fall." + + Hector (this said) rush'd forward on the foes: + With equal ardour Melanippus glows: + Then Ajax thus--"O Greeks! respect your fame, + Respect yourselves, and learn an honest shame: + Let mutual reverence mutual warmth inspire, + And catch from breast to breast the noble fire, + On valour's side the odds of combat lie; + The brave live glorious, or lamented die; + The wretch that trembles in the field of fame, + Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame." + + His generous sense he not in vain imparts; + It sunk, and rooted in the Grecian hearts: + They join, they throng, they thicken at his call, + And flank the navy with a brazen wall; + Shields touching shields, in order blaze above, + And stop the Trojans, though impell'd by Jove. + The fiery Spartan first, with loud applause. + Warms the bold son of Nestor in his cause. + "Is there (he said) in arms a youth like you, + So strong to fight, so active to pursue? + Why stand you distant, nor attempt a deed? + Lift the bold lance, and make some Trojan bleed." + + He said; and backward to the lines retired; + Forth rush'd the youth with martial fury fired, + Beyond the foremost ranks; his lance he threw, + And round the black battalions cast his view. + The troops of Troy recede with sudden fear, + While the swift javelin hiss'd along in air. + Advancing Melanippus met the dart + With his bold breast, and felt it in his heart: + Thundering he falls; his falling arms resound, + And his broad buckler rings against the ground. + The victor leaps upon his prostrate prize: + Thus on a roe the well-breath'd beagle flies, + And rends his side, fresh-bleeding with the dart + The distant hunter sent into his heart. + Observing Hector to the rescue flew; + Bold as he was, Antilochus withdrew. + So when a savage, ranging o'er the plain, + Has torn the shepherd's dog, or shepherd's swain, + While conscious of the deed, he glares around, + And hears the gathering multitude resound, + Timely he flies the yet-untasted food, + And gains the friendly shelter of the wood: + So fears the youth; all Troy with shouts pursue, + While stones and darts in mingled tempest flew; + But enter'd in the Grecian ranks, he turns + His manly breast, and with new fury burns. + + Now on the fleet the tides of Trojans drove, + Fierce to fulfil the stern decrees of Jove: + The sire of gods, confirming Thetis' prayer, + The Grecian ardour quench'd in deep despair; + But lifts to glory Troy's prevailing bands, + Swells all their hearts, and strengthens all their hands. + On Ida's top he waits with longing eyes, + To view the navy blazing to the skies; + Then, nor till then, the scale of war shall turn, + The Trojans fly, and conquer'd Ilion burn. + These fates revolved in his almighty mind, + He raises Hector to the work design'd, + Bids him with more than mortal fury glow, + And drives him, like a lightning, on the foe. + So Mars, when human crimes for vengeance call, + Shakes his huge javelin, and whole armies fall. + Not with more rage a conflagration rolls, + Wraps the vast mountains, and involves the poles. + He foams with wrath; beneath his gloomy brow + Like fiery meteors his red eye-balls glow: + The radiant helmet on his temple burns, + Waves when he nods, and lightens as he turns: + For Jove his splendour round the chief had thrown, + And cast the blaze of both the hosts on one. + Unhappy glories! for his fate was near, + Due to stern Pallas, and Pelides' spear: + Yet Jove deferr'd the death he was to pay, + And gave what fate allow'd, the honours of a day! + + Now all on fire for fame, his breast, his eyes + Burn at each foe, and single every prize; + Still at the closest ranks, the thickest fight, + He points his ardour, and exerts his might. + The Grecian phalanx, moveless as a tower, + On all sides batter'd, yet resists his power: + So some tall rock o'erhangs the hoary main,(241) + By winds assail'd, by billows beat in vain, + Unmoved it hears, above, the tempest blow, + And sees the watery mountains break below. + Girt in surrounding flames, he seems to fall + Like fire from Jove, and bursts upon them all: + Bursts as a wave that from the cloud impends, + And, swell'd with tempests, on the ship descends; + White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud + Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud: + Pale, trembling, tired, the sailors freeze with fears; + And instant death on every wave appears. + So pale the Greeks the eyes of Hector meet, + The chief so thunders, and so shakes the fleet. + + As when a lion, rushing from his den, + Amidst the plain of some wide-water'd fen, + (Where numerous oxen, as at ease they feed, + At large expatiate o'er the ranker mead) + Leaps on the herds before the herdsman's eyes; + The trembling herdsman far to distance flies; + Some lordly bull (the rest dispersed and fled) + He singles out; arrests, and lays him dead. + Thus from the rage of Jove-like Hector flew + All Greece in heaps; but one he seized, and slew: + Mycenian Periphes, a mighty name, + In wisdom great, in arms well known to fame; + The minister of stern Eurystheus' ire + Against Alcides, Copreus was his sire: + The son redeem'd the honours of the race, + A son as generous as the sire was base; + O'er all his country's youth conspicuous far + In every virtue, or of peace or war: + But doom'd to Hector's stronger force to yield! + Against the margin of his ample shield + He struck his hasty foot: his heels up-sprung; + Supine he fell; his brazen helmet rung. + On the fallen chief the invading Trojan press'd, + And plunged the pointed javelin in his breast. + His circling friends, who strove to guard too late + The unhappy hero, fled, or shared his fate. + + Chased from the foremost line, the Grecian train + Now man the next, receding toward the main: + Wedged in one body at the tents they stand, + Wall'd round with sterns, a gloomy, desperate band. + Now manly shame forbids the inglorious flight; + Now fear itself confines them to the fight: + Man courage breathes in man; but Nestor most + (The sage preserver of the Grecian host) + Exhorts, adjures, to guard these utmost shores; + And by their parents, by themselves implores. + + "Oh friends! be men: your generous breasts inflame + With mutual honour, and with mutual shame! + Think of your hopes, your fortunes; all the care + Your wives, your infants, and your parents share: + Think of each living father's reverend head; + Think of each ancestor with glory dead; + Absent, by me they speak, by me they sue, + They ask their safety, and their fame, from you: + The gods their fates on this one action lay, + And all are lost, if you desert the day." + + He spoke, and round him breathed heroic fires; + Minerva seconds what the sage inspires. + The mist of darkness Jove around them threw + She clear'd, restoring all the war to view; + A sudden ray shot beaming o'er the plain, + And show'd the shores, the navy, and the main: + Hector they saw, and all who fly, or fight, + The scene wide-opening to the blaze of light, + First of the field great Ajax strikes their eyes, + His port majestic, and his ample size: + A ponderous mace with studs of iron crown'd, + Full twenty cubits long, he swings around; + Nor fights, like others, fix'd to certain stands + But looks a moving tower above the bands; + High on the decks with vast gigantic stride, + The godlike hero stalks from side to side. + So when a horseman from the watery mead + (Skill'd in the manage of the bounding steed) + Drives four fair coursers, practised to obey, + To some great city through the public way; + Safe in his art, as side by side they run, + He shifts his seat, and vaults from one to one; + And now to this, and now to that he flies; + Admiring numbers follow with their eyes. + + From ship to ship thus Ajax swiftly flew, + No less the wonder of the warring crew. + As furious, Hector thunder'd threats aloud, + And rush'd enraged before the Trojan crowd; + Then swift invades the ships, whose beaky prores + Lay rank'd contiguous on the bending shores; + So the strong eagle from his airy height, + Who marks the swans' or cranes' embodied flight, + Stoops down impetuous, while they light for food, + And, stooping, darkens with his wings the flood. + Jove leads him on with his almighty hand, + And breathes fierce spirits in his following band. + The warring nations meet, the battle roars, + Thick beats the combat on the sounding prores. + Thou wouldst have thought, so furious was their fire, + No force could tame them, and no toil could tire; + As if new vigour from new fights they won, + And the long battle was but then begun. + Greece, yet unconquer'd, kept alive the war, + Secure of death, confiding in despair: + Troy in proud hopes already view'd the main + Bright with the blaze, and red with heroes slain: + Like strength is felt from hope, and from despair, + And each contends, as his were all the war. + + "Twas thou, bold Hector! whose resistless hand + First seized a ship on that contested strand; + The same which dead Protesilaus bore,(242) + The first that touch'd the unhappy Trojan shore: + For this in arms the warring nations stood, + And bathed their generous breasts with mutual blood. + No room to poise the lance or bend the bow; + But hand to hand, and man to man, they grow: + Wounded, they wound; and seek each other's hearts + With falchions, axes, swords, and shorten'd darts. + The falchions ring, shields rattle, axes sound, + Swords flash in air, or glitter on the ground; + With streaming blood the slippery shores are dyed, + And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide. + + Still raging, Hector with his ample hand + Grasps the high stern, and gives this loud command: + + [Illustration: AJAX DEFENDING THE GREEK SHIPS.] + + AJAX DEFENDING THE GREEK SHIPS. + + + "Haste, bring the flames! that toil of ten long years + Is finished; and the day desired appears! + This happy day with acclamations greet, + Bright with destruction of yon hostile fleet. + The coward-counsels of a timorous throng + Of reverend dotards check'd our glory long: + Too long Jove lull'd us with lethargic charms, + But now in peals of thunder calls to arms: + In this great day he crowns our full desires, + Wakes all our force, and seconds all our fires." + + He spoke--the warriors at his fierce command + Pour a new deluge on the Grecian band. + Even Ajax paused, (so thick the javelins fly,) + Stepp'd back, and doubted or to live or die. + Yet, where the oars are placed, he stands to wait + What chief approaching dares attempt his fate: + Even to the last his naval charge defends, + Now shakes his spear, now lifts, and now protends; + Even yet, the Greeks with piercing shouts inspires, + Amidst attacks, and deaths, and darts, and fires. + + "O friends! O heroes! names for ever dear, + Once sons of Mars, and thunderbolts of war! + Ah! yet be mindful of your old renown, + Your great forefathers' virtues and your own. + What aids expect you in this utmost strait? + What bulwarks rising between you and fate? + No aids, no bulwarks your retreat attend, + No friends to help, no city to defend. + This spot is all you have, to lose or keep; + There stand the Trojans, and here rolls the deep. + 'Tis hostile ground you tread; your native lands + Far, far from hence: your fates are in your hands." + + Raging he spoke; nor further wastes his breath, + But turns his javelin to the work of death. + Whate'er bold Trojan arm'd his daring hands, + Against the sable ships, with flaming brands, + So well the chief his naval weapon sped, + The luckless warrior at his stern lay dead: + Full twelve, the boldest, in a moment fell, + Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell. + + [Illustration: CASTOR AND POLLUX.] + + CASTOR AND POLLUX. + + + + + +BOOK XVI. + + +ARGUMENT + +THE SIXTH BATTLE, THE ACTS AND DEATH OF PATROCLUS + +Patroclus (in pursuance of the request of Nestor in the eleventh book) +entreats Achilles to suffer him to go to the assistance of the Greeks with +Achilles' troops and armour. He agrees to it, but at the same time charges +him to content himself with rescuing the fleet, without further pursuit of +the enemy. The armour, horses, soldiers, and officers are described. +Achilles offers a libation for the success of his friend, after which +Patroclus leads the Myrmidons to battle. The Trojans, at the sight of +Patroclus in Achilles' armour, taking him for that hero, are cast into the +uttermost consternation; he beats them off from the vessels, Hector +himself flies, Sarpedon is killed, though Jupiter was averse to his fate. +Several other particulars of the battle are described; in the heat of +which, Patroclus, neglecting the orders of Achilles, pursues the foe to +the walls of Troy, where Apollo repulses and disarms him, Euphorbus wounds +him, and Hector kills him, which concludes the book. + + So warr'd both armies on the ensanguined shore, + While the black vessels smoked with human gore. + Meantime Patroclus to Achilles flies; + The streaming tears fall copious from his eyes + Not faster, trickling to the plains below, + From the tall rock the sable waters flow. + Divine Pelides, with compassion moved. + Thus spoke, indulgent, to his best beloved:(243) + + "Patroclus, say, what grief thy bosom bears, + That flows so fast in these unmanly tears? + No girl, no infant whom the mother keeps + From her loved breast, with fonder passion weeps; + Not more the mother's soul, that infant warms, + Clung to her knees, and reaching at her arms, + Than thou hast mine! Oh tell me, to what end + Thy melting sorrows thus pursue thy friend? + + "Griev'st thou for me, or for, my martial band? + Or come sad tidings from our native land? + Our fathers live (our first, most tender care), + Thy good Menoetius breathes the vital air, + And hoary Peleus yet extends his days; + Pleased in their age to hear their children's praise. + Or may some meaner cause thy pity claim? + Perhaps yon relics of the Grecian name, + Doom'd in their ships to sink by fire and sword, + And pay the forfeit of their haughty lord? + Whate'er the cause, reveal thy secret care, + And speak those sorrows which a friend would share." + A sigh that instant from his bosom broke, + Another follow'd, and Patroclus spoke: + + "Let Greece at length with pity touch thy breast, + Thyself a Greek; and, once, of Greeks the best! + Lo! every chief that might her fate prevent, + Lies pierced with wounds, and bleeding in his tent: + Eurypylus, Tydides, Atreus' son, + And wise Ulysses, at the navy groan, + More for their country's wounds than for their own. + Their pain soft arts of pharmacy can ease, + Thy breast alone no lenitives appease. + May never rage like thine my soul enslave, + O great in vain! unprofitably brave! + Thy country slighted in her last distress, + What friend, what man, from thee shall hope redress? + No--men unborn, and ages yet behind, + Shall curse that fierce, that unforgiving mind. + + "O man unpitying! if of man thy race; + But sure thou spring'st not from a soft embrace, + Nor ever amorous hero caused thy birth, + Nor ever tender goddess brought thee forth: + Some rugged rock's hard entrails gave thee form, + And raging seas produced thee in a storm, + A soul well suiting that tempestuous kind, + So rough thy manners, so untamed thy mind. + + "If some dire oracle thy breast alarm, + If aught from Jove, or Thetis, stop thy arm, + Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may shine, + If I but lead the Myrmidonian line: + Clad in thy dreadful arms if I appear, + Proud Troy shall tremble, and desert the war; + Without thy person Greece shall win the day, + And thy mere image chase her foes away. + Press'd by fresh forces, her o'erlabour'd train + Shall quit the ships, and Greece respire again." + Thus, blind to fate! with supplicating breath, + Thou begg'st his arms, and in his arms thy death. + Unfortunately good! a boding sigh + Thy friend return'd; and with it, this reply: + "Patroclus! thy Achilles knows no fears; + Nor words from Jove nor oracles he hears; + Nor aught a mother's caution can suggest; + The tyrant's pride lies rooted in my breast. + My wrongs, my wrongs, my constant thought engage, + Those, my sole oracles, inspire my rage: + I made him tyrant: gave him power to wrong + Even my: I felt it; and shall feel it long. + The maid, my black-eyed maid, he forced away, + Due to the toils of many a well-fought day; + Due to my conquest of her father's reign; + Due to the votes of all the Grecian train. + From me he forced her; me, the bold and brave, + Disgraced, dishonour'd, like the meanest slave. + But bear we this--the wrongs I grieve are past; + 'Tis time our fury should relent at last: + I fix'd its date; the day I wish'd appears: + How Hector to my ships his battle bears, + The flames my eyes, the shouts invade my ears. + Go then, Patroclus! court fair honour's charms + In Troy's famed fields, and in Achilles' arms: + Lead forth my martial Myrmidons to fight, + Go save the fleets, and conquer in my right. + See the thin relics of their baffled band + At the last edge of yon deserted land! + Behold all Ilion on their ships descends; + How the cloud blackens, how the storm impends! + It was not thus, when, at my sight amazed, + Troy saw and trembled, as this helmet blazed: + Had not the injurious king our friendship lost, + Yon ample trench had buried half her host. + No camps, no bulwarks now the Trojans fear, + Those are not dreadful, no Achilles there; + No longer flames the lance of Tydeus' son; + No more your general calls his heroes on: + Hector, alone, I hear; his dreadful breath + Commands your slaughter, or proclaims your death. + Yet now, Patroclus, issue to the plain: + Now save the ships, the rising fires restrain, + And give the Greeks to visit Greece again. + But heed my words, and mark a friend's command, + Who trusts his fame and honours in thy hand, + And from thy deeds expects the Achaian host + Shall render back the beauteous maid he lost: + Rage uncontroll'd through all the hostile crew, + But touch not Hector, Hector is my due. + Though Jove in thunder should command the war, + Be just, consult my glory, and forbear. + The fleet once saved, desist from further chase, + Nor lead to Ilion's walls the Grecian race; + Some adverse god thy rashness may destroy; + Some god, like Phoebus, ever kind to Troy. + Let Greece, redeem'd from this destructive strait, + Do her own work; and leave the rest to fate. + O! would to all the immortal powers above, + Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Jove! + That not one Trojan might be left alive, + And not a Greek of all the race survive: + Might only we the vast destruction shun, + And only we destroy the accursed town!" + Such conference held the chiefs; while on the strand + Great Jove with conquest crown'd the Trojan band. + Ajax no more the sounding storm sustain'd, + So thick the darts an iron tempest rain'd: + On his tired arm the weighty buckler hung; + His hollow helm with falling javelins rung; + His breath, in quick short pantings, comes and goes; + And painful sweat from all his members flows. + Spent and o'erpower'd, he barely breathes at most; + Yet scarce an army stirs him from his post; + Dangers on dangers all around him glow, + And toil to toil, and woe succeeds to woe. + + Say, Muses, throned above the starry frame, + How first the navy blazed with Trojan flame? + + Stern Hector waved his sword, and standing near, + Where furious Ajax plied his ashen spear, + Full on the lance a stroke so justly sped, + That the broad falchion lopp'd its brazen head; + His pointless spear the warrior shakes in vain; + The brazen head falls sounding on the plain. + Great Ajax saw, and own'd the hand divine; + Confessing Jove, and trembling at the sign, + Warn'd he retreats. Then swift from all sides pour + The hissing brands; thick streams the fiery shower; + O'er the high stern the curling volumes rise, + And sheets of rolling smoke involve the skies. + + Divine Achilles view'd the rising flames, + And smote his thigh, and thus aloud exclaims: + "Arm, arm, Patroclus! Lo, the blaze aspires! + The glowing ocean reddens with the fires. + Arm, ere our vessels catch the spreading flame; + Arm, ere the Grecians be no more a name; + I haste to bring the troops."--The hero said; + The friend with ardour and with joy obey'd. + + He cased his limbs in brass; and first around + His manly legs, with silver buckles bound + The clasping greaves; then to his breast applies + The flaming cuirass of a thousand dyes; + Emblazed with studs of gold his falchion shone + In the rich belt, as in a starry zone: + Achilles' shield his ample shoulders spread, + Achilles' helmet nodded o'er his head: + Adorn'd in all his terrible array, + He flash'd around intolerable day. + Alone untouch'd, Pelides' javelin stands, + Not to be poised but by Pelides' hands: + From Pelion's shady brow the plant entire + Old Chiron rent, and shaped it for his sire; + Whose son's great arm alone the weapon wields, + The death of heroes, and the dread of fields. + + [Illustration: Buckles.] + + Buckles. + + + The brave Automedon (an honour'd name, + The second to his lord in love and fame, + In peace his friend, and partner of the war) + The winged coursers harness'd to the car; + Xanthus and Balius, of immortal breed, + Sprung from the wind, and like the wind in speed. + Whom the wing'd harpy, swift Podarge, bore, + By Zephyr pregnant on the breezy shore: + Swift Pedasus was added to their side, + (Once great Aetion's, now Achilles' pride) + Who, like in strength, in swiftness, and in grace, + A mortal courser match'd the immortal race. + + Achilles speeds from tent to tent, and warms + His hardy Myrmidons to blood and arms. + All breathing death, around the chief they stand, + A grim, terrific, formidable band: + Grim as voracious wolves, that seek the springs(244) + When scalding thirst their burning bowels wrings; + When some tall stag, fresh-slaughtered in the wood, + Has drench'd their wide insatiate throats with blood, + To the black fount they rush, a hideous throng, + With paunch distended, and with lolling tongue, + Fire fills their eye, their black jaws belch the gore, + And gorged with slaughter still they thirst for more. + Like furious, rush'd the Myrmidonian crew, + Such their dread strength, and such their deathful view. + + High in the midst the great Achilles stands, + Directs their order, and the war commands. + He, loved of Jove, had launch'd for Ilion's shores + Full fifty vessels, mann'd with fifty oars: + Five chosen leaders the fierce bands obey, + Himself supreme in valour, as in sway. + + First march'd Menestheus, of celestial birth, + Derived from thee, whose waters wash the earth, + Divine Sperchius! Jove-descended flood! + A mortal mother mixing with a god. + Such was Menestheus, but miscall'd by fame + The son of Borus, that espoused the dame. + + Eudorus next; whom Polymele the gay, + Famed in the graceful dance, produced to-day. + Her, sly Cellenius loved: on her would gaze, + As with swift step she form'd the running maze: + To her high chamber from Diana's quire, + The god pursued her, urged, and crown'd his fire. + The son confess'd his father's heavenly race, + And heir'd his mother's swiftness in the chase. + Strong Echecleus, bless'd in all those charms + That pleased a god, succeeded to her arms; + Not conscious of those loves, long hid from fame, + With gifts of price he sought and won the dame; + Her secret offspring to her sire she bare; + Her sire caress'd him with a parent's care. + + Pisander follow'd; matchless in his art + To wing the spear, or aim the distant dart; + No hand so sure of all the Emathian line, + Or if a surer, great Patroclus! thine. + + The fourth by Phoenix' grave command was graced, + Laerces' valiant offspring led the last. + + Soon as Achilles with superior care + Had call'd the chiefs, and order'd all the war, + This stern remembrance to his troops he gave: + "Ye far-famed Myrmidons, ye fierce and brave! + Think with what threats you dared the Trojan throng, + Think what reproach these ears endured so long; + 'Stern son of Peleus, (thus ye used to say, + While restless, raging, in your ships you lay) + Oh nursed with gall, unknowing how to yield; + Whose rage defrauds us of so famed a field: + If that dire fury must for ever burn, + What make we here? Return, ye chiefs, return!' + Such were your words--Now, warriors! grieve no more, + Lo there the Trojans; bathe your swords in gore! + This day shall give you all your soul demands, + Glut all your hearts, and weary all your hands!" + + [Illustration: DIANA.] + + DIANA. + + + Thus while he roused the fire in every breast, + Close and more close the listening cohorts press'd; + Ranks wedged in ranks; of arms a steely ring + Still grows, and spreads, and thickens round the king. + As when a circling wall the builder forms, + Of strength defensive against wind and storms, + Compacted stones the thickening work compose, + And round him wide the rising structure grows: + So helm to helm, and crest to crest they throng, + Shield urged on shield, and man drove man along; + Thick, undistinguish'd plumes, together join'd, + Float in one sea, and wave before the wind. + + Far o'er the rest in glittering pomp appear, + There bold Automedon, Patroclus here; + Brothers in arms, with equal fury fired; + Two friends, two bodies with one soul inspired. + + But mindful of the gods, Achilles went + To the rich coffer in his shady tent; + There lay on heaps his various garments roll'd, + And costly furs, and carpets stiff with gold, + (The presents of the silver-footed dame) + From thence he took a bowl, of antique frame, + Which never man had stained with ruddy wine, + Nor raised in offerings to the power divine, + But Peleus' son; and Peleus' son to none + Had raised in offerings, but to Jove alone. + This tinged with sulphur, sacred first to flame, + He purged; and wash'd it in the running stream. + Then cleansed his hands; and fixing for a space + His eyes on heaven, his feet upon the place + Of sacrifice, the purple draught he pour'd + Forth in the midst; and thus the god implored: + + "O thou supreme! high-throned all height above! + O great Pelasgic, Dodonaean Jove! + Who 'midst surrounding frosts, and vapours chill, + Presid'st on bleak Dodona's vocal hill: + (Whose groves the Selli, race austere! surround, + Their feet unwash'd, their slumbers on the ground; + Who hear, from rustling oaks, thy dark decrees; + And catch the fates, low-whispered in the breeze;) + Hear, as of old! Thou gav'st, at Thetis' prayer, + Glory to me, and to the Greeks despair. + Lo, to the dangers of the fighting field + The best, the dearest of my friends, I yield, + Though still determined, to my ships confined; + Patroclus gone, I stay but half behind. + Oh! be his guard thy providential care, + Confirm his heart, and string his arm to war: + Press'd by his single force let Hector see + His fame in arms not owing all to me. + But when the fleets are saved from foes and fire, + Let him with conquest and renown retire; + Preserve his arms, preserve his social train, + And safe return him to these eyes again!" + + Great Jove consents to half the chief's request, + But heaven's eternal doom denies the rest; + To free the fleet was granted to his prayer; + His safe return, the winds dispersed in air. + Back to his tent the stern Achilles flies, + And waits the combat with impatient eyes. + + Meanwhile the troops beneath Patroclus' care, + Invade the Trojans, and commence the war. + As wasps, provoked by children in their play, + Pour from their mansions by the broad highway, + In swarms the guiltless traveller engage, + Whet all their stings, and call forth all their rage: + All rise in arms, and, with a general cry, + Assert their waxen domes, and buzzing progeny. + Thus from the tents the fervent legion swarms, + So loud their clamours, and so keen their arms: + Their rising rage Patroclus' breath inspires, + Who thus inflames them with heroic fires: + + "O warriors, partners of Achilles' praise! + Be mindful of your deeds in ancient days; + Your godlike master let your acts proclaim, + And add new glories to his mighty name. + Think your Achilles sees you fight: be brave, + And humble the proud monarch whom you save." + + Joyful they heard, and kindling as he spoke, + Flew to the fleet, involved in fire and smoke. + From shore to shore the doubling shouts resound, + The hollow ships return a deeper sound. + The war stood still, and all around them gazed, + When great Achilles' shining armour blazed: + Troy saw, and thought the dread Achilles nigh, + At once they see, they tremble, and they fly. + + Then first thy spear, divine Patroclus! flew, + Where the war raged, and where the tumult grew. + Close to the stern of that famed ship which bore + Unbless'd Protesilaus to Ilion's shore, + The great Paeonian, bold Pyrechmes stood; + (Who led his bands from Axius' winding flood;) + His shoulder-blade receives the fatal wound; + The groaning warrior pants upon the ground. + His troops, that see their country's glory slain, + Fly diverse, scatter'd o'er the distant plain. + Patroclus' arm forbids the spreading fires, + And from the half-burn'd ship proud Troy retires; + Clear'd from the smoke the joyful navy lies; + In heaps on heaps the foe tumultuous flies; + Triumphant Greece her rescued decks ascends, + And loud acclaim the starry region rends. + So when thick clouds enwrap the mountain's head, + O'er heaven's expanse like one black ceiling spread; + Sudden the Thunderer, with a flashing ray, + Bursts through the darkness, and lets down the day: + The hills shine out, the rocks in prospect rise, + And streams, and vales, and forests, strike the eyes; + The smiling scene wide opens to the sight, + And all the unmeasured ether flames with light. + + But Troy repulsed, and scatter'd o'er the plains, + Forced from the navy, yet the fight maintains. + Now every Greek some hostile hero slew, + But still the foremost, bold Patroclus flew: + As Areilycus had turn'd him round, + Sharp in his thigh he felt the piercing wound; + The brazen-pointed spear, with vigour thrown, + The thigh transfix'd, and broke the brittle bone: + Headlong he fell. Next, Thoas was thy chance; + Thy breast, unarm'd, received the Spartan lance. + Phylides' dart (as Amphidus drew nigh) + His blow prevented, and transpierced his thigh, + Tore all the brawn, and rent the nerves away; + In darkness, and in death, the warrior lay. + + In equal arms two sons of Nestor stand, + And two bold brothers of the Lycian band: + By great Antilochus, Atymnius dies, + Pierced in the flank, lamented youth! he lies, + Kind Maris, bleeding in his brother's wound, + Defends the breathless carcase on the ground; + Furious he flies, his murderer to engage: + But godlike Thrasimed prevents his rage, + Between his arm and shoulder aims a blow; + His arm falls spouting on the dust below: + He sinks, with endless darkness cover'd o'er: + And vents his soul, effused with gushing gore. + + Slain by two brothers, thus two brothers bleed, + Sarpedon's friends, Amisodarus' seed; + Amisodarus, who, by Furies led, + The bane of men, abhorr'd Chimaera bred; + Skill'd in the dart in vain, his sons expire, + And pay the forfeit of their guilty sire. + + Stopp'd in the tumult Cleobulus lies, + Beneath Oileus' arm, a living prize; + A living prize not long the Trojan stood; + The thirsty falchion drank his reeking blood: + Plunged in his throat the smoking weapon lies; + Black death, and fate unpitying, seal his eyes. + + Amid the ranks, with mutual thirst of fame, + Lycon the brave, and fierce Peneleus came; + In vain their javelins at each other flew, + Now, met in arms, their eager swords they drew. + On the plumed crest of his Boeotian foe + The daring Lycon aim'd a noble blow; + The sword broke short; but his, Peneleus sped + Full on the juncture of the neck and head: + The head, divided by a stroke so just, + Hung by the skin; the body sunk to dust. + + O'ertaken Neamas by Merion bleeds, + Pierced through the shoulder as he mounts his steeds; + Back from the car he tumbles to the ground: + His swimming eyes eternal shades surround. + + Next Erymas was doom'd his fate to feel, + His open'd mouth received the Cretan steel: + Beneath the brain the point a passage tore, + Crash'd the thin bones, and drown'd the teeth in gore: + His mouth, his eyes, his nostrils, pour a flood; + He sobs his soul out in the gush of blood. + + As when the flocks neglected by the swain, + Or kids, or lambs, lie scatter'd o'er the plain, + A troop of wolves the unguarded charge survey, + And rend the trembling, unresisting prey: + Thus on the foe the Greeks impetuous came; + Troy fled, unmindful of her former fame. + + But still at Hector godlike Ajax aim'd, + Still, pointed at his breast, his javelin flamed. + The Trojan chief, experienced in the field, + O'er his broad shoulders spread the massy shield, + Observed the storm of darts the Grecians pour, + And on his buckler caught the ringing shower: + He sees for Greece the scale of conquest rise, + Yet stops, and turns, and saves his loved allies. + + As when the hand of Jove a tempest forms, + And rolls the cloud to blacken heaven with storms, + Dark o'er the fields the ascending vapour flies, + And shades the sun, and blots the golden skies: + So from the ships, along the dusky plain, + Dire Flight and Terror drove the Trojan train. + Even Hector fled; through heads of disarray + The fiery coursers forced their lord away: + While far behind his Trojans fall confused; + Wedged in the trench, in one vast carnage bruised: + Chariots on chariots roll: the clashing spokes + Shock; while the madding steeds break short their yokes. + In vain they labour up the steepy mound; + Their charioteers lie foaming on the ground. + Fierce on the rear, with shouts Patroclus flies; + Tumultuous clamour fills the fields and skies; + Thick drifts of dust involve their rapid flight; + Clouds rise on clouds, and heaven is snatch'd from sight. + The affrighted steeds their dying lords cast down, + Scour o'er the fields, and stretch to reach the town. + Loud o'er the rout was heard the victor's cry, + Where the war bleeds, and where the thickest die, + Where horse and arms, and chariots he o'erthrown, + And bleeding heroes under axles groan. + No stop, no check, the steeds of Peleus knew: + From bank to bank the immortal coursers flew. + High-bounding o'er the fosse, the whirling car + Smokes through the ranks, o'ertakes the flying war, + And thunders after Hector; Hector flies, + Patroclus shakes his lance; but fate denies. + Not with less noise, with less impetuous force, + The tide of Trojans urge their desperate course, + Than when in autumn Jove his fury pours, + And earth is loaden with incessant showers; + (When guilty mortals break the eternal laws, + Or judges, bribed, betray the righteous cause;) + From their deep beds he bids the rivers rise, + And opens all the flood-gates of the skies: + The impetuous torrents from their hills obey, + Whole fields are drown'd, and mountains swept away; + Loud roars the deluge till it meets the main; + And trembling man sees all his labours vain! + + And now the chief (the foremost troops repell'd) + Back to the ships his destined progress held, + Bore down half Troy in his resistless way, + And forced the routed ranks to stand the day. + Between the space where silver Simois flows, + Where lay the fleets, and where the rampires rose, + All grim in dust and blood Patroclus stands, + And turns the slaughter on the conquering bands. + First Pronous died beneath his fiery dart, + Which pierced below the shield his valiant heart. + Thestor was next, who saw the chief appear, + And fell the victim of his coward fear; + Shrunk up he sat, with wild and haggard eye, + Nor stood to combat, nor had force to fly; + Patroclus mark'd him as he shunn'd the war, + And with unmanly tremblings shook the car, + And dropp'd the flowing reins. Him 'twixt the jaws, + The javelin sticks, and from the chariot draws. + As on a rock that overhangs the main, + An angler, studious of the line and cane, + Some mighty fish draws panting to the shore: + Not with less ease the barbed javelin bore + The gaping dastard; as the spear was shook, + He fell, and life his heartless breast forsook. + + Next on Eryalus he flies; a stone, + Large as a rock, was by his fury thrown: + Full on his crown the ponderous fragment flew, + And burst the helm, and cleft the head in two: + Prone to the ground the breathless warrior fell, + And death involved him with the shades of hell. + Then low in dust Epaltes, Echius, lie; + Ipheas, Evippus, Polymelus, die; + Amphoterus and Erymas succeed; + And last Tlepolemus and Pyres bleed. + Where'er he moves, the growing slaughters spread + In heaps on heaps a monument of dead. + + When now Sarpedon his brave friends beheld + Grovelling in dust, and gasping on the field, + With this reproach his flying host he warms: + "Oh stain to honour! oh disgrace to arms! + Forsake, inglorious, the contended plain; + This hand unaided shall the war sustain: + The task be mine this hero's strength to try, + Who mows whole troops, and makes an army fly." + + He spake: and, speaking, leaps from off the car: + Patroclus lights, and sternly waits the war. + As when two vultures on the mountain's height + Stoop with resounding pinions to the fight; + They cuff, they tear, they raise a screaming cry; + The desert echoes, and the rocks reply: + The warriors thus opposed in arms, engage + With equal clamours, and with equal rage. + + Jove view'd the combat: whose event foreseen, + He thus bespoke his sister and his queen: + "The hour draws on; the destinies ordain,(245) + My godlike son shall press the Phrygian plain: + Already on the verge of death he stands, + His life is owed to fierce Patroclus' hands, + What passions in a parent's breast debate! + Say, shall I snatch him from impending fate, + And send him safe to Lycia, distant far + From all the dangers and the toils of war; + Or to his doom my bravest offspring yield, + And fatten, with celestial blood, the field?" + + Then thus the goddess with the radiant eyes: + "What words are these, O sovereign of the skies! + Short is the date prescribed to mortal man; + Shall Jove for one extend the narrow span, + Whose bounds were fix'd before his race began? + How many sons of gods, foredoom'd to death, + Before proud Ilion must resign their breath! + Were thine exempt, debate would rise above, + And murmuring powers condemn their partial Jove. + Give the bold chief a glorious fate in fight; + And when the ascending soul has wing'd her flight, + Let Sleep and Death convey, by thy command, + The breathless body to his native land. + His friends and people, to his future praise, + A marble tomb and pyramid shall raise, + And lasting honours to his ashes give; + His fame ('tis all the dead can have) shall live." + + She said: the cloud-compeller, overcome, + Assents to fate, and ratifies the doom. + Then touch'd with grief, the weeping heavens distill'd + A shower of blood o'er all the fatal field: + The god, his eyes averting from the plain, + Laments his son, predestined to be slain, + Far from the Lycian shores, his happy native reign. + Now met in arms, the combatants appear; + Each heaved the shield, and poised the lifted spear; + From strong Patroclus' hand the javelin fled, + And pass'd the groin of valiant Thrasymed; + The nerves unbraced no more his bulk sustain, + He falls, and falling bites the bloody plain. + Two sounding darts the Lycian leader threw: + The first aloof with erring fury flew, + The next transpierced Achilles' mortal steed, + The generous Pedasus of Theban breed: + Fix'd in the shoulder's joint, he reel'd around, + Roll'd in the bloody dust, and paw'd the slippery ground. + His sudden fall the entangled harness broke; + Each axle crackled, and the chariot shook: + When bold Automedon, to disengage + The starting coursers, and restrain their rage, + Divides the traces with his sword, and freed + The encumbered chariot from the dying steed: + The rest move on, obedient to the rein: + The car rolls slowly o'er the dusty plain. + + The towering chiefs to fiercer fight advance: + And first Sarpedon whirl'd his weighty lance, + Which o'er the warrior's shoulder took its course, + And spent in empty air its dying force. + Not so Patroclus' never-erring dart; + Aim'd at his breast it pierced a mortal part, + Where the strong fibres bind the solid heart. + Then as the mountain oak, or poplar tall, + Or pine (fit mast for some great admiral) + Nods to the axe, till with a groaning sound + It sinks, and spreads its honours on the ground, + Thus fell the king; and laid on earth supine, + Before his chariot stretch'd his form divine: + He grasp'd the dust distain'd with streaming gore, + And, pale in death, lay groaning on the shore. + So lies a bull beneath the lion's paws, + While the grim savage grinds with foamy jaws + The trembling limbs, and sucks the smoking blood; + Deep groans, and hollow roars, rebellow through the wood. + + Then to the leader of the Lycian band + The dying chief address'd his last command; + "Glaucus, be bold; thy task be first to dare + The glorious dangers of destructive war, + To lead my troops, to combat at their head, + Incite the living, and supply the dead. + Tell them, I charged them with my latest breath + Not unrevenged to bear Sarpedon's death. + What grief, what shame, must Glaucus undergo, + If these spoil'd arms adorn a Grecian foe! + Then as a friend, and as a warrior fight; + Defend my body, conquer in my right: + That, taught by great examples, all may try + Like thee to vanquish, or like me to die." + He ceased; the Fates suppress'd his labouring breath, + And his eyes darken'd with the shades of death. + The insulting victor with disdain bestrode + The prostrate prince, and on his bosom trod; + Then drew the weapon from his panting heart, + The reeking fibres clinging to the dart; + From the wide wound gush'd out a stream of blood, + And the soul issued in the purple flood. + His flying steeds the Myrmidons detain, + Unguided now, their mighty master slain. + All-impotent of aid, transfix'd with grief, + Unhappy Glaucus heard the dying chief: + His painful arm, yet useless with the smart + Inflicted late by Teucer's deadly dart, + Supported on his better hand he stay'd: + To Phoebus then ('twas all he could) he pray'd: + + "All-seeing monarch! whether Lycia's coast, + Or sacred Ilion, thy bright presence boast, + Powerful alike to ease the wretch's smart; + O hear me! god of every healing art! + Lo! stiff with clotted blood, and pierced with pain, + That thrills my arm, and shoots through every vein, + I stand unable to sustain the spear, + And sigh, at distance from the glorious war. + Low in the dust is great Sarpedon laid, + Nor Jove vouchsafed his hapless offspring aid; + But thou, O god of health! thy succour lend, + To guard the relics of my slaughter'd friend: + For thou, though distant, canst restore my might, + To head my Lycians, and support the fight." + + Apollo heard; and, suppliant as he stood, + His heavenly hand restrain'd the flux of blood; + He drew the dolours from the wounded part, + And breathed a spirit in his rising heart. + Renew'd by art divine, the hero stands, + And owns the assistance of immortal hands. + First to the fight his native troops he warms, + Then loudly calls on Troy's vindictive arms; + With ample strides he stalks from place to place; + Now fires Agenor, now Polydamas: + AEneas next, and Hector he accosts; + Inflaming thus the rage of all their hosts. + + "What thoughts, regardless chief! thy breast employ? + Oh too forgetful of the friends of Troy! + Those generous friends, who, from their country far, + Breathe their brave souls out in another's war. + See! where in dust the great Sarpedon lies, + In action valiant, and in council wise, + Who guarded right, and kept his people free; + To all his Lycians lost, and lost to thee! + Stretch'd by Patroclus' arm on yonder plains, + O save from hostile rage his loved remains! + Ah let not Greece his conquer'd trophies boast, + Nor on his corse revenge her heroes lost!" + + He spoke: each leader in his grief partook: + Troy, at the loss, through all her legions shook. + Transfix'd with deep regret, they view o'erthrown + At once his country's pillar, and their own; + A chief, who led to Troy's beleaguer'd wall + A host of heroes, and outshined them all. + Fired, they rush on; first Hector seeks the foes, + And with superior vengeance greatly glows. + + But o'er the dead the fierce Patroclus stands, + And rousing Ajax, roused the listening bands: + + "Heroes, be men; be what you were before; + Or weigh the great occasion, and be more. + The chief who taught our lofty walls to yield, + Lies pale in death, extended on the field. + To guard his body Troy in numbers flies; + Tis half the glory to maintain our prize. + Haste, strip his arms, the slaughter round him spread, + And send the living Lycians to the dead." + + The heroes kindle at his fierce command; + The martial squadrons close on either hand: + Here Troy and Lycia charge with loud alarms, + Thessalia there, and Greece, oppose their arms. + With horrid shouts they circle round the slain; + The clash of armour rings o'er all the plain. + Great Jove, to swell the horrors of the fight, + O'er the fierce armies pours pernicious night, + And round his son confounds the warring hosts, + His fate ennobling with a crowd of ghosts. + + Now Greece gives way, and great Epigeus falls; + Agacleus' son, from Budium's lofty walls; + Who chased for murder thence a suppliant came + To Peleus, and the silver-footed dame; + Now sent to Troy, Achilles' arms to aid, + He pays due vengeance to his kinsman's shade. + Soon as his luckless hand had touch'd the dead, + A rock's large fragment thunder'd on his head; + Hurl'd by Hectorean force it cleft in twain + His shatter'd helm, and stretch'd him o'er the slain. + + Fierce to the van of fight Patroclus came, + And, like an eagle darting at his game, + Sprung on the Trojan and the Lycian band. + What grief thy heart, what fury urged thy hand, + O generous Greek! when with full vigour thrown, + At Sthenelaus flew the weighty stone, + Which sunk him to the dead: when Troy, too near + That arm, drew back; and Hector learn'd to fear. + Far as an able hand a lance can throw, + Or at the lists, or at the fighting foe; + So far the Trojans from their lines retired; + Till Glaucus, turning, all the rest inspired. + Then Bathyclaeus fell beneath his rage, + The only hope of Chalcon's trembling age; + Wide o'er the land was stretch'd his large domain, + With stately seats, and riches blest in vain: + Him, bold with youth, and eager to pursue + The flying Lycians, Glaucus met and slew; + Pierced through the bosom with a sudden wound, + He fell, and falling made the fields resound. + The Achaians sorrow for their heroes slain; + With conquering shouts the Trojans shake the plain, + And crowd to spoil the dead: the Greeks oppose; + An iron circle round the carcase grows. + + Then brave Laogonus resign'd his breath, + Despatch'd by Merion to the shades of death: + On Ida's holy hill he made abode, + The priest of Jove, and honour'd like his god. + Between the jaw and ear the javelin went; + The soul, exhaling, issued at the vent. + His spear Aeneas at the victor threw, + Who stooping forward from the death withdrew; + The lance hiss'd harmless o'er his covering shield, + And trembling struck, and rooted in the field; + There yet scarce spent, it quivers on the plain, + Sent by the great Aeneas' arm in vain. + "Swift as thou art (the raging hero cries) + And skill'd in dancing to dispute the prize, + My spear, the destined passage had it found, + Had fix'd thy active vigour to the ground." + + "O valiant leader of the Dardan host! + (Insulted Merion thus retorts the boast) + Strong as you are, 'tis mortal force you trust, + An arm as strong may stretch thee in the dust. + And if to this my lance thy fate be given, + Vain are thy vaunts; success is still from heaven: + This, instant, sends thee down to Pluto's coast; + Mine is the glory, his thy parting ghost." + + "O friend (Menoetius' son this answer gave) + With words to combat, ill befits the brave; + Not empty boasts the sons of Troy repel, + Your swords must plunge them to the shades of hell. + To speak, beseems the council; but to dare + In glorious action, is the task of war." + + This said, Patroclus to the battle flies; + Great Merion follows, and new shouts arise: + Shields, helmets rattle, as the warriors close; + And thick and heavy sounds the storm of blows. + As through the shrilling vale, or mountain ground, + The labours of the woodman's axe resound; + Blows following blows are heard re-echoing wide, + While crackling forests fall on every side: + Thus echoed all the fields with loud alarms, + So fell the warriors, and so rung their arms. + + Now great Sarpedon on the sandy shore, + His heavenly form defaced with dust and gore, + And stuck with darts by warring heroes shed, + Lies undistinguish'd from the vulgar dead. + His long-disputed corse the chiefs enclose, + On every side the busy combat grows; + Thick as beneath some shepherd's thatch'd abode + (The pails high foaming with a milky flood) + The buzzing flies, a persevering train, + Incessant swarm, and chased return again. + + Jove view'd the combat with a stern survey, + And eyes that flash'd intolerable day. + Fix'd on the field his sight, his breast debates + The vengeance due, and meditates the fates: + Whether to urge their prompt effect, and call + The force of Hector to Patroclus' fall, + This instant see his short-lived trophies won, + And stretch him breathless on his slaughter'd son; + Or yet, with many a soul's untimely flight, + Augment the fame and horror of the fight. + To crown Achilles' valiant friend with praise + At length he dooms; and, that his last of days + Shall set in glory, bids him drive the foe; + Nor unattended see the shades below. + Then Hector's mind he fills with dire dismay; + He mounts his car, and calls his hosts away; + Sunk with Troy's heavy fates, he sees decline + The scales of Jove, and pants with awe divine. + + Then, nor before, the hardy Lycians fled, + And left their monarch with the common dead: + Around, in heaps on heaps, a dreadful wall + Of carnage rises, as the heroes fall. + (So Jove decreed!) At length the Greeks obtain + The prize contested, and despoil the slain. + The radiant arms are by Patroclus borne; + Patroclus' ships the glorious spoils adorn. + + Then thus to Phoebus, in the realms above, + Spoke from his throne the cloud-compelling Jove: + "Descend, my Phoebus! on the Phrygian plain, + And from the fight convey Sarpedon slain; + Then bathe his body in the crystal flood, + With dust dishonour'd, and deform'd with blood; + O'er all his limbs ambrosial odours shed, + And with celestial robes adorn the dead. + Those rites discharged, his sacred corse bequeath + To the soft arms of silent Sleep and Death. + They to his friends the immortal charge shall bear; + His friends a tomb and pyramid shall rear: + What honour mortals after death receive, + Those unavailing honours we may give!" + + [Illustration: SLEEP AND DEATH CONVEYING THE BODY OF SARPEDON TO LYCIA.] + + SLEEP AND DEATH CONVEYING THE BODY OF SARPEDON TO LYCIA. + + + Apollo bows, and from mount Ida's height, + Swift to the field precipitates his flight; + Thence from the war the breathless hero bore, + Veil'd in a cloud, to silver Simois' shore; + There bathed his honourable wounds, and dress'd + His manly members in the immortal vest; + And with perfumes of sweet ambrosial dews + Restores his freshness, and his form renews. + Then Sleep and Death, two twins of winged race, + Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace, + Received Sarpedon, at the god's command, + And in a moment reach'd the Lycian land; + The corse amidst his weeping friends they laid, + Where endless honours wait the sacred shade. + + Meanwhile Patroclus pours along the plains, + With foaming coursers, and with loosen'd reins. + Fierce on the Trojan and the Lycian crew, + Ah blind to fate! thy headlong fury flew + Against what fate and powerful Jove ordain, + Vain was thy friend's command, thy courage vain. + For he, the god, whose counsels uncontroll'd + Dismay the mighty, and confound the bold; + The god who gives, resumes, and orders all, + He urged thee on, and urged thee on to fall. + + Who first, brave hero! by that arm was slain, + Who last beneath thy vengeance press'd the plain; + When heaven itself thy fatal fury led, + And call'd to fill the number of the dead? + Adrestus first; Autonous then succeeds; + Echeclus follows; next young Megas bleeds, + Epistor, Melanippus, bite the ground; + The slaughter, Elasus and Mulius crown'd: + Then sunk Pylartes to eternal night; + The rest, dispersing, trust their fates to flight. + + Now Troy had stoop'd beneath his matchless power, + But flaming Phoebus kept the sacred tower + Thrice at the battlements Patroclus strook;(246) + His blazing aegis thrice Apollo shook; + He tried the fourth; when, bursting from the cloud, + A more than mortal voice was heard aloud. + + "Patroclus! cease; this heaven-defended wall + Defies thy lance; not fated yet to fall; + Thy friend, thy greater far, it shall withstand, + Troy shall not stoop even to Achilles' hand." + + So spoke the god who darts celestial fires; + The Greek obeys him, and with awe retires. + While Hector, checking at the Scaean gates + His panting coursers, in his breast debates, + Or in the field his forces to employ, + Or draw the troops within the walls of Troy. + Thus while he thought, beside him Phoebus stood, + In Asius' shape, who reigned by Sangar's flood; + (Thy brother, Hecuba! from Dymas sprung, + A valiant warrior, haughty, bold, and young;) + Thus he accosts him. "What a shameful sight! + God! is it Hector that forbears the fight? + Were thine my vigour this successful spear + Should soon convince thee of so false a fear. + Turn thee, ah turn thee to the field of fame, + And in Patroclus' blood efface thy shame. + Perhaps Apollo shall thy arms succeed, + And heaven ordains him by thy lance to bleed." + + So spoke the inspiring god; then took his flight, + And plunged amidst the tumult of the fight. + He bids Cebrion drive the rapid car; + The lash resounds, the coursers rush to war. + The god the Grecians' sinking souls depress'd, + And pour'd swift spirits through each Trojan breast. + Patroclus lights, impatient for the fight; + A spear his left, a stone employs his right: + With all his nerves he drives it at the foe. + Pointed above, and rough and gross below: + The falling ruin crush'd Cebrion's head, + The lawless offspring of king Priam's bed; + His front, brows, eyes, one undistinguish'd wound: + The bursting balls drop sightless to the ground. + The charioteer, while yet he held the rein, + Struck from the car, falls headlong on the plain. + To the dark shades the soul unwilling glides, + While the proud victor thus his fall derides. + + "Good heaven! what active feats yon artist shows! + What skilful divers are our Phrygian foes! + Mark with what ease they sink into the sand! + Pity that all their practice is by land!" + + Then rushing sudden on his prostrate prize, + To spoil the carcase fierce Patroclus flies: + Swift as a lion, terrible and bold, + That sweeps the field, depopulates the fold; + Pierced through the dauntless heart, then tumbles slain, + And from his fatal courage finds his bane. + At once bold Hector leaping from his car, + Defends the body, and provokes the war. + Thus for some slaughter'd hind, with equal rage, + Two lordly rulers of the wood engage; + Stung with fierce hunger, each the prey invades, + And echoing roars rebellow through the shades. + Stern Hector fastens on the warrior's head, + And by the foot Patroclus drags the dead: + While all around, confusion, rage, and fright, + Mix the contending hosts in mortal fight. + So pent by hills, the wild winds roar aloud + In the deep bosom of some gloomy wood; + Leaves, arms, and trees, aloft in air are blown, + The broad oaks crackle, and the Sylvans groan; + This way and that, the rattling thicket bends, + And the whole forest in one crash descends. + Not with less noise, with less tumultuous rage, + In dreadful shock the mingled hosts engage. + Darts shower'd on darts, now round the carcase ring; + Now flights of arrows bounding from the string: + Stones follow stones; some clatter on the fields, + Some hard, and heavy, shake the sounding shields. + But where the rising whirlwind clouds the plains, + Sunk in soft dust the mighty chief remains, + And, stretch'd in death, forgets the guiding reins! + + Now flaming from the zenith, Sol had driven + His fervid orb through half the vault of heaven; + While on each host with equal tempests fell + The showering darts, and numbers sank to hell. + But when his evening wheels o'erhung the main, + Glad conquest rested on the Grecian train. + Then from amidst the tumult and alarms, + They draw the conquer'd corse and radiant arms. + Then rash Patroclus with new fury glows, + And breathing slaughter, pours amid the foes. + Thrice on the press like Mars himself he flew, + And thrice three heroes at each onset slew. + There ends thy glory! there the Fates untwine + The last, black remnant of so bright a line: + Apollo dreadful stops thy middle way; + Death calls, and heaven allows no longer day! + + For lo! the god in dusky clouds enshrined, + Approaching dealt a staggering blow behind. + The weighty shock his neck and shoulders feel; + His eyes flash sparkles, his stunn'd senses reel + In giddy darkness; far to distance flung, + His bounding helmet on the champaign rung. + Achilles' plume is stain'd with dust and gore; + That plume which never stoop'd to earth before; + Long used, untouch'd, in fighting fields to shine, + And shade the temples of the mad divine. + Jove dooms it now on Hector's helm to nod; + Not long--for fate pursues him, and the god. + + His spear in shivers falls; his ample shield + Drops from his arm: his baldric strows the field: + The corslet his astonish'd breast forsakes: + Loose is each joint; each nerve with horror shakes; + Stupid he stares, and all-assistless stands: + Such is the force of more than mortal hands! + + A Dardan youth there was, well known to fame, + From Panthus sprung, Euphorbus was his name; + Famed for the manage of the foaming horse, + Skill'd in the dart, and matchless in the course: + Full twenty knights he tumbled from the car, + While yet he learn'd his rudiments of war. + His venturous spear first drew the hero's gore; + He struck, he wounded, but he durst no more. + Nor, though disarm'd, Patroclus' fury stood: + But swift withdrew the long-protended wood. + And turn'd him short, and herded in the crowd. + Thus, by an arm divine, and mortal spear, + Wounded, at once, Patroclus yields to fear, + Retires for succour to his social train, + And flies the fate, which heaven decreed, in vain. + Stern Hector, as the bleeding chief he views, + Breaks through the ranks, and his retreat pursues: + The lance arrests him with a mortal wound; + He falls, earth thunders, and his arms resound. + With him all Greece was sunk; that moment all + Her yet-surviving heroes seem'd to fall. + So, scorch'd with heat, along the desert score, + The roaming lion meets a bristly boar, + Fast by the spring; they both dispute the flood, + With flaming eyes, and jaws besmear'd with blood; + At length the sovereign savage wins the strife; + And the torn boar resigns his thirst and life. + Patroclus thus, so many chiefs o'erthrown, + So many lives effused, expires his own. + As dying now at Hector's feet he lies, + He sternly views him, and triumphant cries: + + "Lie there, Patroclus! and with thee, the joy + Thy pride once promised, of subverting Troy; + The fancied scenes of Ilion wrapt in flames, + And thy soft pleasures served with captive dames. + Unthinking man! I fought those towers to free, + And guard that beauteous race from lords like thee: + But thou a prey to vultures shalt be made; + Thy own Achilles cannot lend thee aid; + Though much at parting that great chief might say, + And much enjoin thee, this important day. + + 'Return not, my brave friend (perhaps he said), + Without the bloody arms of Hector dead.' + He spoke, Patroclus march'd, and thus he sped." + + Supine, and wildly gazing on the skies, + With faint, expiring breath, the chief replies: + + "Vain boaster! cease, and know the powers divine! + Jove's and Apollo's is this deed, not thine; + To heaven is owed whate'er your own you call, + And heaven itself disarm'd me ere my fall. + Had twenty mortals, each thy match in might, + Opposed me fairly, they had sunk in fight: + By fate and Phoebus was I first o'erthrown, + Euphorbus next; the third mean part thy own. + But thou, imperious! hear my latest breath; + The gods inspire it, and it sounds thy death: + Insulting man, thou shalt be soon as I; + Black fate o'erhangs thee, and thy hour draws nigh; + Even now on life's last verge I see thee stand, + I see thee fall, and by Achilles' hand." + + He faints: the soul unwilling wings her way, + (The beauteous body left a load of clay) + Flits to the lone, uncomfortable coast; + A naked, wandering, melancholy ghost! + + Then Hector pausing, as his eyes he fed + On the pale carcase, thus address'd the dead: + + "From whence this boding speech, the stern decree + Of death denounced, or why denounced to me? + Why not as well Achilles' fate be given + To Hector's lance? Who knows the will of heaven?" + + Pensive he said; then pressing as he lay + His breathless bosom, tore the lance away; + And upwards cast the corse: the reeking spear + He shakes, and charges the bold charioteer. + But swift Automedon with loosen'd reins + Rapt in the chariot o'er the distant plains, + Far from his rage the immortal coursers drove; + The immortal coursers were the gift of Jove. + + [Illustration: AESCULAPIUS.] + + AESCULAPIUS. + + + + + +BOOK XVII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE SEVENTH BATTLE, FOR THE BODY OF PATROCLUS.--THE ACTS OF MENELAUS. + +Menelaus, upon the death of Patroclus, defends his body from the enemy: +Euphorbus, who attempts it, is slain. Hector advancing, Menelaus retires; +but soon returns with Ajax, and drives him off. This, Glaucus objects to +Hector as a flight, who thereupon puts on the armour he had won from +Patroclus, and renews the battle. The Greeks give way, till Ajax rallies +them: Aeneas sustains the Trojans. Aeneas and Hector Attempt the chariot +of Achilles, which is borne off by Automedon. The horses of Achilles +deplore the loss of Patroclus: Jupiter covers his body with a thick +darkness: the noble prayer of Ajax on that occasion. Menelaus sends +Antilochus to Achilles, with the news of Patroclus' death: then returns to +the fight, where, though attacked with the utmost fury, he and Meriones, +assisted by the Ajaces, bear off the body to the ships. + +The time is the evening of the eight-and-twentieth day. The scene lies in +the fields before Troy. + + On the cold earth divine Patroclus spread, + Lies pierced with wounds among the vulgar dead. + Great Menelaus, touch'd with generous woe, + Springs to the front, and guards him from the foe. + Thus round her new-fallen young the heifer moves, + Fruit of her throes, and first-born of her loves; + And anxious (helpless as he lies, and bare) + Turns, and re-turns her, with a mother's care, + Opposed to each that near the carcase came, + His broad shield glimmers, and his lances flame. + + The son of Panthus, skill'd the dart to send, + Eyes the dead hero, and insults the friend. + "This hand, Atrides, laid Patroclus low; + Warrior! desist, nor tempt an equal blow: + To me the spoils my prowess won, resign: + Depart with life, and leave the glory mine" + + The Trojan thus: the Spartan monarch burn'd + With generous anguish, and in scorn return'd: + "Laugh'st thou not, Jove! from thy superior throne, + When mortals boast of prowess not their own? + Not thus the lion glories in his might, + Nor panther braves his spotted foe in fight, + Nor thus the boar (those terrors of the plain;) + Man only vaunts his force, and vaunts in vain. + But far the vainest of the boastful kind, + These sons of Panthus vent their haughty mind. + Yet 'twas but late, beneath my conquering steel + This boaster's brother, Hyperenor, fell; + Against our arm which rashly he defied, + Vain was his vigour, and as vain his pride. + These eyes beheld him on the dust expire, + No more to cheer his spouse, or glad his sire. + Presumptuous youth! like his shall be thy doom, + Go, wait thy brother to the Stygian gloom; + Or, while thou may'st, avoid the threaten'd fate; + Fools stay to feel it, and are wise too late." + + Unmoved, Euphorbus thus: "That action known, + Come, for my brother's blood repay thy own. + His weeping father claims thy destined head, + And spouse, a widow in her bridal bed. + On these thy conquer'd spoils I shall bestow, + To soothe a consort's and a parent's woe. + No longer then defer the glorious strife, + Let heaven decide our fortune, fame, and life." + + Swift as the word the missile lance he flings; + The well-aim'd weapon on the buckler rings, + But blunted by the brass, innoxious falls. + On Jove the father great Atrides calls, + Nor flies the javelin from his arm in vain, + It pierced his throat, and bent him to the plain; + Wide through the neck appears the grisly wound, + Prone sinks the warrior, and his arms resound. + The shining circlets of his golden hair, + Which even the Graces might be proud to wear, + Instarr'd with gems and gold, bestrow the shore, + With dust dishonour'd, and deform'd with gore. + + As the young olive, in some sylvan scene, + Crown'd by fresh fountains with eternal green, + Lifts the gay head, in snowy flowerets fair, + And plays and dances to the gentle air; + When lo! a whirlwind from high heaven invades + The tender plant, and withers all its shades; + It lies uprooted from its genial bed, + A lovely ruin now defaced and dead: + Thus young, thus beautiful, Euphorbus lay, + While the fierce Spartan tore his arms away. + Proud of his deed, and glorious in the prize, + Affrighted Troy the towering victor flies: + Flies, as before some mountain lion's ire + The village curs and trembling swains retire, + When o'er the slaughter'd bull they hear him roar, + And see his jaws distil with smoking gore: + All pale with fear, at distance scatter'd round, + They shout incessant, and the vales resound. + + Meanwhile Apollo view'd with envious eyes, + And urged great Hector to dispute the prize; + (In Mentes' shape, beneath whose martial care + The rough Ciconians learn'd the trade of war;)(247) + "Forbear (he cried) with fruitless speed to chase + Achilles' coursers, of ethereal race; + They stoop not, these, to mortal man's command, + Or stoop to none but great Achilles' hand. + Too long amused with a pursuit so vain, + Turn, and behold the brave Euphorbus slain; + By Sparta slain! for ever now suppress'd + The fire which burn'd in that undaunted breast!" + + Thus having spoke, Apollo wing'd his flight, + And mix'd with mortals in the toils of fight: + His words infix'd unutterable care + Deep in great Hector's soul: through all the war + He darts his anxious eye; and, instant, view'd + The breathless hero in his blood imbued, + (Forth welling from the wound, as prone he lay) + And in the victor's hands the shining prey. + Sheath'd in bright arms, through cleaving ranks he flies, + And sends his voice in thunder to the skies: + Fierce as a flood of flame by Vulcan sent, + It flew, and fired the nations as it went. + Atrides from the voice the storm divined, + And thus explored his own unconquer'd mind: + + "Then shall I quit Patroclus on the plain, + Slain in my cause, and for my honour slain! + Desert the arms, the relics, of my friend? + Or singly, Hector and his troops attend? + Sure where such partial favour heaven bestow'd, + To brave the hero were to brave the god: + Forgive me, Greece, if once I quit the field; + 'Tis not to Hector, but to heaven I yield. + Yet, nor the god, nor heaven, should give me fear, + Did but the voice of Ajax reach my ear: + Still would we turn, still battle on the plains, + And give Achilles all that yet remains + Of his and our Patroclus--" This, no more + The time allow'd: Troy thicken'd on the shore. + A sable scene! The terrors Hector led. + Slow he recedes, and sighing quits the dead. + + So from the fold the unwilling lion parts, + Forced by loud clamours, and a storm of darts; + He flies indeed, but threatens as he flies, + With heart indignant and retorted eyes. + Now enter'd in the Spartan ranks, he turn'd + His manly breast, and with new fury burn'd; + O'er all the black battalions sent his view, + And through the cloud the godlike Ajax knew; + Where labouring on the left the warrior stood, + All grim in arms, and cover'd o'er with blood; + There breathing courage, where the god of day + Had sunk each heart with terror and dismay. + + To him the king: "Oh Ajax, oh my friend! + Haste, and Patroclus' loved remains defend: + The body to Achilles to restore + Demands our care; alas, we can no more! + For naked now, despoiled of arms, he lies; + And Hector glories in the dazzling prize." + He said, and touch'd his heart. The raging pair + Pierced the thick battle, and provoke the war. + Already had stern Hector seized his head, + And doom'd to Trojan gods the unhappy dead; + But soon as Ajax rear'd his tower-like shield, + Sprung to his car, and measured back the field, + His train to Troy the radiant armour bear, + To stand a trophy of his fame in war. + + Meanwhile great Ajax (his broad shield display'd) + Guards the dead hero with the dreadful shade; + And now before, and now behind he stood: + Thus in the centre of some gloomy wood, + With many a step, the lioness surrounds + Her tawny young, beset by men and hounds; + Elate her heart, and rousing all her powers, + Dark o'er the fiery balls each hanging eyebrow lours. + Fast by his side the generous Spartan glows + With great revenge, and feeds his inward woes. + + But Glaucus, leader of the Lycian aids, + On Hector frowning, thus his flight upbraids: + + "Where now in Hector shall we Hector find? + A manly form, without a manly mind. + Is this, O chief! a hero's boasted fame? + How vain, without the merit, is the name! + Since battle is renounced, thy thoughts employ + What other methods may preserve thy Troy: + 'Tis time to try if Ilion's state can stand + By thee alone, nor ask a foreign hand: + Mean, empty boast! but shall the Lycians stake + Their lives for you? those Lycians you forsake? + What from thy thankless arms can we expect? + Thy friend Sarpedon proves thy base neglect; + Say, shall our slaughter'd bodies guard your walls, + While unreveng'd the great Sarpedon falls? + Even where he died for Troy, you left him there, + A feast for dogs, and all the fowls of air. + On my command if any Lycian wait, + Hence let him march, and give up Troy to fate. + Did such a spirit as the gods impart + Impel one Trojan hand or Trojan heart, + (Such as should burn in every soul that draws + The sword for glory, and his country's cause) + Even yet our mutual arms we might employ, + And drag yon carcase to the walls of Troy. + Oh! were Patroclus ours, we might obtain + Sarpedon's arms and honour'd corse again! + Greece with Achilles' friend should be repaid, + And thus due honours purchased to his shade. + But words are vain--Let Ajax once appear, + And Hector trembles and recedes with fear; + Thou dar'st not meet the terrors of his eye; + And lo! already thou prepar'st to fly." + + The Trojan chief with fix'd resentment eyed + The Lycian leader, and sedate replied: + + "Say, is it just, my friend, that Hector's ear + From such a warrior such a speech should hear? + I deem'd thee once the wisest of thy kind, + But ill this insult suits a prudent mind. + I shun great Ajax? I desert my train? + 'Tis mine to prove the rash assertion vain; + I joy to mingle where the battle bleeds, + And hear the thunder of the sounding steeds. + But Jove's high will is ever uncontroll'd, + The strong he withers, and confounds the bold; + Now crowns with fame the mighty man, and now + Strikes the fresh garland from the victor's brow! + Come, through yon squadrons let us hew the way, + And thou be witness, if I fear to-day; + If yet a Greek the sight of Hector dread, + Or yet their hero dare defend the dead." + + Then turning to the martial hosts, he cries: + "Ye Trojans, Dardans, Lycians, and allies! + Be men, my friends, in action as in name, + And yet be mindful of your ancient fame. + Hector in proud Achilles' arms shall shine, + Torn from his friend, by right of conquest mine." + + He strode along the field, as thus he said: + (The sable plumage nodded o'er his head:) + Swift through the spacious plain he sent a look; + One instant saw, one instant overtook + The distant band, that on the sandy shore + The radiant spoils to sacred Ilion bore. + There his own mail unbraced the field bestrow'd; + His train to Troy convey'd the massy load. + Now blazing in the immortal arms he stands; + The work and present of celestial hands; + By aged Peleus to Achilles given, + As first to Peleus by the court of heaven: + His father's arms not long Achilles wears, + Forbid by fate to reach his father's years. + + Him, proud in triumph, glittering from afar, + The god whose thunder rends the troubled air + Beheld with pity; as apart he sat, + And, conscious, look'd through all the scene of fate. + He shook the sacred honours of his head; + Olympus trembled, and the godhead said; + "Ah, wretched man! unmindful of thy end! + A moment's glory; and what fates attend! + In heavenly panoply divinely bright + Thou stand'st, and armies tremble at thy sight, + As at Achilles' self! beneath thy dart + Lies slain the great Achilles' dearer part. + Thou from the mighty dead those arms hast torn, + Which once the greatest of mankind had worn. + Yet live! I give thee one illustrious day, + A blaze of glory ere thou fad'st away. + For ah! no more Andromache shall come + With joyful tears to welcome Hector home; + No more officious, with endearing charms, + From thy tired limbs unbrace Pelides' arms!" + + Then with his sable brow he gave the nod + That seals his word; the sanction of the god. + The stubborn arms (by Jove's command disposed) + Conform'd spontaneous, and around him closed: + Fill'd with the god, enlarged his members grew, + Through all his veins a sudden vigour flew, + The blood in brisker tides began to roll, + And Mars himself came rushing on his soul. + Exhorting loud through all the field he strode, + And look'd, and moved, Achilles, or a god. + Now Mesthles, Glaucus, Medon, he inspires, + Now Phorcys, Chromius, and Hippothous fires; + The great Thersilochus like fury found, + Asteropaeus kindled at the sound, + And Ennomus, in augury renown'd. + + "Hear, all ye hosts, and hear, unnumber'd bands + Of neighbouring nations, or of distant lands! + 'Twas not for state we summon'd you so far, + To boast our numbers, and the pomp of war: + Ye came to fight; a valiant foe to chase, + To save our present, and our future race. + Tor this, our wealth, our products, you enjoy, + And glean the relics of exhausted Troy. + Now then, to conquer or to die prepare; + To die or conquer are the terms of war. + Whatever hand shall win Patroclus slain, + Whoe'er shall drag him to the Trojan train, + With Hector's self shall equal honours claim; + With Hector part the spoil, and share the fame." + + Fired by his words, the troops dismiss their fears, + They join, they thicken, they protend their spears; + Full on the Greeks they drive in firm array, + And each from Ajax hopes the glorious prey: + Vain hope! what numbers shall the field o'erspread, + What victims perish round the mighty dead! + + Great Ajax mark'd the growing storm from far, + And thus bespoke his brother of the war: + "Our fatal day, alas! is come, my friend; + And all our wars and glories at an end! + 'Tis not this corse alone we guard in vain, + Condemn'd to vultures on the Trojan plain; + We too must yield: the same sad fate must fall + On thee, on me, perhaps, my friend, on all. + See what a tempest direful Hector spreads, + And lo! it bursts, it thunders on our heads! + Call on our Greeks, if any hear the call, + The bravest Greeks: this hour demands them all." + + The warrior raised his voice, and wide around + The field re-echoed the distressful sound. + "O chiefs! O princes, to whose hand is given + The rule of men; whose glory is from heaven! + Whom with due honours both Atrides grace: + Ye guides and guardians of our Argive race! + All, whom this well-known voice shall reach from far, + All, whom I see not through this cloud of war; + Come all! let generous rage your arms employ, + And save Patroclus from the dogs of Troy." + + Oilean Ajax first the voice obey'd, + Swift was his pace, and ready was his aid: + Next him Idomeneus, more slow with age, + And Merion, burning with a hero's rage. + The long-succeeding numbers who can name? + But all were Greeks, and eager all for fame. + Fierce to the charge great Hector led the throng; + Whole Troy embodied rush'd with shouts along. + Thus, when a mountain billow foams and raves, + Where some swoln river disembogues his waves, + Full in the mouth is stopp'd the rushing tide, + The boiling ocean works from side to side, + The river trembles to his utmost shore, + And distant rocks re-bellow to the roar. + + Nor less resolved, the firm Achaian band + With brazen shields in horrid circle stand. + Jove, pouring darkness o'er the mingled fight, + Conceals the warriors' shining helms in night: + To him, the chief for whom the hosts contend + Had lived not hateful, for he lived a friend: + Dead he protects him with superior care. + Nor dooms his carcase to the birds of air. + + [Illustration: FIGHT FOR THE BODY OF PATROCLUS.] + + FIGHT FOR THE BODY OF PATROCLUS. + + + The first attack the Grecians scarce sustain, + Repulsed, they yield; the Trojans seize the slain. + Then fierce they rally, to revenge led on + By the swift rage of Ajax Telamon. + (Ajax to Peleus' son the second name, + In graceful stature next, and next in fame) + With headlong force the foremost ranks he tore; + So through the thicket bursts the mountain boar, + And rudely scatters, for a distance round, + The frighted hunter and the baying hound. + The son of Lethus, brave Pelasgus' heir, + Hippothous, dragg'd the carcase through the war; + The sinewy ankles bored, the feet he bound + With thongs inserted through the double wound: + Inevitable fate o'ertakes the deed; + Doom'd by great Ajax' vengeful lance to bleed: + It cleft the helmet's brazen cheeks in twain; + The shatter'd crest and horse-hair strow the plain: + With nerves relax'd he tumbles to the ground: + The brain comes gushing through the ghastly wound: + He drops Patroclus' foot, and o'er him spread, + Now lies a sad companion of the dead: + Far from Larissa lies, his native air, + And ill requites his parents' tender care. + Lamented youth! in life's first bloom he fell, + Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell. + + Once more at Ajax Hector's javelin flies; + The Grecian marking, as it cut the skies, + Shunn'd the descending death; which hissing on, + Stretch'd in the dust the great Iphytus' son, + Schedius the brave, of all the Phocian kind + The boldest warrior and the noblest mind: + In little Panope, for strength renown'd, + He held his seat, and ruled the realms around. + Plunged in his throat, the weapon drank his blood, + And deep transpiercing through the shoulder stood; + In clanging arms the hero fell and all + The fields resounded with his weighty fall. + + Phorcys, as slain Hippothous he defends, + The Telamonian lance his belly rends; + The hollow armour burst before the stroke, + And through the wound the rushing entrails broke: + In strong convulsions panting on the sands + He lies, and grasps the dust with dying hands. + + Struck at the sight, recede the Trojan train: + The shouting Argives strip the heroes slain. + And now had Troy, by Greece compell'd to yield, + Fled to her ramparts, and resign'd the field; + Greece, in her native fortitude elate, + With Jove averse, had turn'd the scale of fate: + But Phoebus urged AEneas to the fight; + He seem'd like aged Periphas to sight: + (A herald in Anchises' love grown old, + Revered for prudence, and with prudence bold.) + + Thus he--"What methods yet, O chief! remain, + To save your Troy, though heaven its fall ordain? + There have been heroes, who, by virtuous care, + By valour, numbers, and by arts of war, + Have forced the powers to spare a sinking state, + And gain'd at length the glorious odds of fate: + But you, when fortune smiles, when Jove declares + His partial favour, and assists your wars, + Your shameful efforts 'gainst yourselves employ, + And force the unwilling god to ruin Troy." + + AEneas through the form assumed descries + The power conceal'd, and thus to Hector cries: + "Oh lasting shame! to our own fears a prey, + We seek our ramparts, and desert the day. + A god, nor is he less, my bosom warms, + And tells me, Jove asserts the Trojan arms." + + He spoke, and foremost to the combat flew: + The bold example all his hosts pursue. + Then, first, Leocritus beneath him bled, + In vain beloved by valiant Lycomede; + Who view'd his fall, and, grieving at the chance, + Swift to revenge it sent his angry lance; + The whirling lance, with vigorous force address'd, + Descends, and pants in Apisaon's breast; + From rich Paeonia's vales the warrior came, + Next thee, Asteropeus! in place and fame. + Asteropeus with grief beheld the slain, + And rush'd to combat, but he rush'd in vain: + Indissolubly firm, around the dead, + Rank within rank, on buckler buckler spread, + And hemm'd with bristled spears, the Grecians stood, + A brazen bulwark, and an iron wood. + Great Ajax eyes them with incessant care, + And in an orb contracts the crowded war, + Close in their ranks commands to fight or fall, + And stands the centre and the soul of all: + Fix'd on the spot they war, and wounded, wound + A sanguine torrent steeps the reeking ground: + On heaps the Greeks, on heaps the Trojans bled, + And, thickening round them, rise the hills of dead. + + Greece, in close order, and collected might, + Yet suffers least, and sways the wavering fight; + Fierce as conflicting fires the combat burns, + And now it rises, now it sinks by turns. + In one thick darkness all the fight was lost; + The sun, the moon, and all the ethereal host + Seem'd as extinct: day ravish'd from their eyes, + And all heaven's splendours blotted from the skies. + Such o'er Patroclus' body hung the night, + The rest in sunshine fought, and open light; + Unclouded there, the aerial azure spread, + No vapour rested on the mountain's head, + The golden sun pour'd forth a stronger ray, + And all the broad expansion flamed with day. + Dispersed around the plain, by fits they fight, + And here and there their scatter'd arrows light: + But death and darkness o'er the carcase spread, + There burn'd the war, and there the mighty bled. + + Meanwhile the sons of Nestor, in the rear, + (Their fellows routed,) toss the distant spear, + And skirmish wide: so Nestor gave command, + When from the ships he sent the Pylian band. + The youthful brothers thus for fame contend, + Nor knew the fortune of Achilles' friend; + In thought they view'd him still, with martial joy, + Glorious in arms, and dealing death to Troy. + + But round the corse the heroes pant for breath, + And thick and heavy grows the work of death: + O'erlabour'd now, with dust, and sweat, and gore, + Their knees, their legs, their feet, are covered o'er; + Drops follow drops, the clouds on clouds arise, + And carnage clogs their hands, and darkness fills their eyes. + As when a slaughter'd bull's yet reeking hide, + Strain'd with full force, and tugg'd from side to side, + The brawny curriers stretch; and labour o'er + The extended surface, drunk with fat and gore: + So tugging round the corse both armies stood; + The mangled body bathed in sweat and blood; + While Greeks and Ilians equal strength employ, + Now to the ships to force it, now to Troy. + Not Pallas' self, her breast when fury warms, + Nor he whose anger sets the world in arms, + Could blame this scene; such rage, such horror reign'd; + Such, Jove to honour the great dead ordain'd. + + Achilles in his ships at distance lay, + Nor knew the fatal fortune of the day; + He, yet unconscious of Patroclus' fall, + In dust extended under Ilion's wall, + Expects him glorious from the conquered plain, + And for his wish'd return prepares in vain; + Though well he knew, to make proud Ilion bend + Was more than heaven had destined to his friend. + Perhaps to him: this Thetis had reveal'd; + The rest, in pity to her son, conceal'd. + + Still raged the conflict round the hero dead, + And heaps on heaps by mutual wounds they bled. + "Cursed be the man (even private Greeks would say) + Who dares desert this well-disputed day! + First may the cleaving earth before our eyes + Gape wide, and drink our blood for sacrifice; + First perish all, ere haughty Troy shall boast + We lost Patroclus, and our glory lost!" + + Thus they: while with one voice the Trojans said, + "Grant this day, Jove! or heap us on the dead!" + + Then clash their sounding arms; the clangours rise, + And shake the brazen concave of the skies. + + Meantime, at distance from the scene of blood, + The pensive steeds of great Achilles stood: + Their godlike master slain before their eyes, + They wept, and shared in human miseries.(248) + In vain Automedon now shakes the rein, + Now plies the lash, and soothes and threats in vain; + Nor to the fight nor Hellespont they go, + Restive they stood, and obstinate in woe: + Still as a tombstone, never to be moved, + On some good man or woman unreproved + Lays its eternal weight; or fix'd, as stands + A marble courser by the sculptor's hands, + Placed on the hero's grave. Along their face + The big round drops coursed down with silent pace, + Conglobing on the dust. Their manes, that late + Circled their arched necks, and waved in state, + Trail'd on the dust beneath the yoke were spread, + And prone to earth was hung their languid head: + Nor Jove disdain'd to cast a pitying look, + While thus relenting to the steeds he spoke: + + "Unhappy coursers of immortal strain, + Exempt from age, and deathless, now in vain; + Did we your race on mortal man bestow, + Only, alas! to share in mortal woe? + For ah! what is there of inferior birth, + That breathes or creeps upon the dust of earth; + What wretched creature of what wretched kind, + Than man more weak, calamitous, and blind? + A miserable race! but cease to mourn: + For not by you shall Priam's son be borne + High on the splendid car: one glorious prize + He rashly boasts: the rest our will denies. + Ourself will swiftness to your nerves impart, + Ourself with rising spirits swell your heart. + Automedon your rapid flight shall bear + Safe to the navy through the storm of war. + For yet 'tis given to Troy to ravage o'er + The field, and spread her slaughters to the shore; + The sun shall see her conquer, till his fall + With sacred darkness shades the face of all." + + He said; and breathing in the immortal horse + Excessive spirit, urged them to the course; + From their high manes they shake the dust, and bear + The kindling chariot through the parted war: + So flies a vulture through the clamorous train + Of geese, that scream, and scatter round the plain. + From danger now with swiftest speed they flew, + And now to conquest with like speed pursue; + Sole in the seat the charioteer remains, + Now plies the javelin, now directs the reins: + Him brave Alcimedon beheld distress'd, + Approach'd the chariot, and the chief address'd: + + "What god provokes thee rashly thus to dare, + Alone, unaided, in the thickest war? + Alas! thy friend is slain, and Hector wields + Achilles' arms triumphant in the fields." + + "In happy time (the charioteer replies) + The bold Alcimedon now greets my eyes; + No Greek like him the heavenly steeds restrains, + Or holds their fury in suspended reins: + Patroclus, while he lived, their rage could tame, + But now Patroclus is an empty name! + To thee I yield the seat, to thee resign + The ruling charge: the task of fight be mine." + + He said. Alcimedon, with active heat, + Snatches the reins, and vaults into the seat. + His friend descends. The chief of Troy descried, + And call'd AEneas fighting near his side. + + "Lo, to my sight, beyond our hope restored, + Achilles' car, deserted of its lord! + The glorious steeds our ready arms invite, + Scarce their weak drivers guide them through the fight. + Can such opponents stand when we assail? + Unite thy force, my friend, and we prevail." + + The son of Venus to the counsel yields; + Then o'er their backs they spread their solid shields: + With brass refulgent the broad surface shined, + And thick bull-hides the spacious concave lined. + Them Chromius follows, Aretus succeeds; + Each hopes the conquest of the lofty steeds: + In vain, brave youths, with glorious hopes ye burn, + In vain advance! not fated to return. + + Unmov'd, Automedon attends the fight, + Implores the Eternal, and collects his might. + Then turning to his friend, with dauntless mind: + "Oh keep the foaming coursers close behind! + Full on my shoulders let their nostrils blow, + For hard the fight, determined is the foe; + 'Tis Hector comes: and when he seeks the prize, + War knows no mean; he wins it or he dies." + + Then through the field he sends his voice aloud, + And calls the Ajaces from the warring crowd, + With great Atrides. "Hither turn, (he said,) + Turn where distress demands immediate aid; + The dead, encircled by his friends, forego, + And save the living from a fiercer foe. + Unhelp'd we stand, unequal to engage + The force of Hector, and AEneas' rage: + Yet mighty as they are, my force to prove + Is only mine: the event belongs to Jove." + + He spoke, and high the sounding javelin flung, + Which pass'd the shield of Aretus the young: + It pierced his belt, emboss'd with curious art, + Then in the lower belly struck the dart. + As when a ponderous axe, descending full, + Cleaves the broad forehead of some brawny bull:(249) + Struck 'twixt the horns, he springs with many a bound, + Then tumbling rolls enormous on the ground: + Thus fell the youth; the air his soul received, + And the spear trembled as his entrails heaved. + + Now at Automedon the Trojan foe + Discharged his lance; the meditated blow, + Stooping, he shunn'd; the javelin idly fled, + And hiss'd innoxious o'er the hero's head; + Deep rooted in the ground, the forceful spear + In long vibrations spent its fury there. + With clashing falchions now the chiefs had closed, + But each brave Ajax heard, and interposed; + Nor longer Hector with his Trojans stood, + But left their slain companion in his blood: + His arms Automedon divests, and cries, + "Accept, Patroclus, this mean sacrifice: + Thus have I soothed my griefs, and thus have paid, + Poor as it is, some offering to thy shade." + + So looks the lion o'er a mangled boar, + All grim with rage, and horrible with gore; + High on the chariot at one bound he sprung, + And o'er his seat the bloody trophies hung. + + And now Minerva from the realms of air + Descends impetuous, and renews the war; + For, pleased at length the Grecian arms to aid, + The lord of thunders sent the blue-eyed maid. + As when high Jove denouncing future woe, + O'er the dark clouds extends his purple bow, + (In sign of tempests from the troubled air, + Or from the rage of man, destructive war,) + The drooping cattle dread the impending skies, + And from his half-till'd field the labourer flies: + In such a form the goddess round her drew + A livid cloud, and to the battle flew. + Assuming Phoenix' shape on earth she falls, + And in his well-known voice to Sparta calls: + "And lies Achilles' friend, beloved by all, + A prey to dogs beneath the Trojan wall? + What shame 'o Greece for future times to tell, + To thee the greatest in whose cause he fell!" + "O chief, O father! (Atreus' son replies) + O full of days! by long experience wise! + What more desires my soul, than here unmoved + To guard the body of the man I loved? + Ah, would Minerva send me strength to rear + This wearied arm, and ward the storm of war! + But Hector, like the rage of fire, we dread, + And Jove's own glories blaze around his head!" + + Pleased to be first of all the powers address'd, + She breathes new vigour in her hero's breast, + And fills with keen revenge, with fell despite, + Desire of blood, and rage, and lust of fight. + So burns the vengeful hornet (soul all o'er), + Repulsed in vain, and thirsty still of gore; + (Bold son of air and heat) on angry wings + Untamed, untired, he turns, attacks, and stings. + Fired with like ardour fierce Atrides flew, + And sent his soul with every lance he threw. + + There stood a Trojan, not unknown to fame, + Aetion's son, and Podes was his name: + With riches honour'd, and with courage bless'd, + By Hector loved, his comrade, and his guest; + Through his broad belt the spear a passage found, + And, ponderous as he falls, his arms resound. + Sudden at Hector's side Apollo stood, + Like Phaenops, Asius' son, appear'd the god; + (Asius the great, who held his wealthy reign + In fair Abydos, by the rolling main.) + + "Oh prince! (he cried) Oh foremost once in fame! + What Grecian now shall tremble at thy name? + Dost thou at length to Menelaus yield, + A chief once thought no terror of the field? + Yet singly, now, the long-disputed prize + He bears victorious, while our army flies: + By the same arm illustrious Podes bled; + The friend of Hector, unrevenged, is dead!" + This heard, o'er Hector spreads a cloud of woe, + Rage lifts his lance, and drives him on the foe. + + But now the Eternal shook his sable shield, + That shaded Ide and all the subject field + Beneath its ample verge. A rolling cloud + Involved the mount; the thunder roar'd aloud; + The affrighted hills from their foundations nod, + And blaze beneath the lightnings of the god: + At one regard of his all-seeing eye + The vanquish'd triumph, and the victors fly. + + Then trembled Greece: the flight Peneleus led; + For as the brave Boeotian turn'd his head + To face the foe, Polydamas drew near, + And razed his shoulder with a shorten'd spear: + By Hector wounded, Leitus quits the plain, + Pierced through the wrist; and raging with the pain, + Grasps his once formidable lance in vain. + + As Hector follow'd, Idomen address'd + The flaming javelin to his manly breast; + The brittle point before his corslet yields; + Exulting Troy with clamour fills the fields: + High on his chariots the Cretan stood, + The son of Priam whirl'd the massive wood. + But erring from its aim, the impetuous spear + Struck to the dust the squire and charioteer + Of martial Merion: Coeranus his name, + Who left fair Lyctus for the fields of fame. + On foot bold Merion fought; and now laid low, + Had graced the triumphs of his Trojan foe, + But the brave squire the ready coursers brought, + And with his life his master's safety bought. + Between his cheek and ear the weapon went, + The teeth it shatter'd, and the tongue it rent. + Prone from the seat he tumbles to the plain; + His dying hand forgets the falling rein: + This Merion reaches, bending from the car, + And urges to desert the hopeless war: + Idomeneus consents; the lash applies; + And the swift chariot to the navy flies. + + Not Ajax less the will of heaven descried, + And conquest shifting to the Trojan side, + Turn'd by the hand of Jove. Then thus begun, + To Atreus's seed, the godlike Telamon: + + "Alas! who sees not Jove's almighty hand + Transfers the glory to the Trojan band? + Whether the weak or strong discharge the dart, + He guides each arrow to a Grecian heart: + Not so our spears; incessant though they rain, + He suffers every lance to fall in vain. + Deserted of the god, yet let us try + What human strength and prudence can supply; + If yet this honour'd corse, in triumph borne, + May glad the fleets that hope not our return, + Who tremble yet, scarce rescued from their fates, + And still hear Hector thundering at their gates. + Some hero too must be despatch'd to bear + The mournful message to Pelides' ear; + For sure he knows not, distant on the shore, + His friend, his loved Patroclus, is no more. + But such a chief I spy not through the host: + The men, the steeds, the armies, all are lost + In general darkness--Lord of earth and air! + Oh king! Oh father! hear my humble prayer: + Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore; + Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more: + If Greece must perish, we thy will obey, + But let us perish in the face of day!" + + With tears the hero spoke, and at his prayer + The god relenting clear'd the clouded air; + Forth burst the sun with all-enlightening ray; + The blaze of armour flash'd against the day. + "Now, now, Atrides! cast around thy sight; + If yet Antilochus survives the fight, + Let him to great Achilles' ear convey + The fatal news"--Atrides hastes away. + + So turns the lion from the nightly fold, + Though high in courage, and with hunger bold, + Long gall'd by herdsmen, and long vex'd by hounds, + Stiff with fatigue, and fretted sore with wounds; + The darts fly round him from a hundred hands, + And the red terrors of the blazing brands: + Till late, reluctant, at the dawn of day + Sour he departs, and quits the untasted prey, + So moved Atrides from his dangerous place + With weary limbs, but with unwilling pace; + The foe, he fear'd, might yet Patroclus gain, + And much admonish'd, much adjured his train: + + "O guard these relics to your charge consign'd, + And bear the merits of the dead in mind; + How skill'd he was in each obliging art; + The mildest manners, and the gentlest heart: + He was, alas! but fate decreed his end, + In death a hero, as in life a friend!" + + So parts the chief; from rank to rank he flew, + And round on all sides sent his piercing view. + As the bold bird, endued with sharpest eye + Of all that wings the mid aerial sky, + The sacred eagle, from his walks above + Looks down, and sees the distant thicket move; + Then stoops, and sousing on the quivering hare, + Snatches his life amid the clouds of air. + Not with less quickness, his exerted sight + Pass'd this and that way, through the ranks of fight: + Till on the left the chief he sought, he found, + Cheering his men, and spreading deaths around: + + To him the king: "Beloved of Jove! draw near, + For sadder tidings never touch'd thy ear; + Thy eyes have witness'd what a fatal turn! + How Ilion triumphs, and the Achaians mourn. + This is not all: Patroclus, on the shore + Now pale and dead, shall succour Greece no more. + Fly to the fleet, this instant fly, and tell + The sad Achilles, how his loved-one fell: + He too may haste the naked corse to gain: + The arms are Hector's, who despoil'd the slain." + + The youthful warrior heard with silent woe, + From his fair eyes the tears began to flow: + Big with the mighty grief, he strove to say + What sorrow dictates, but no word found way. + To brave Laodocus his arms he flung, + Who, near him wheeling, drove his steeds along; + Then ran the mournful message to impart, + With tearful eyes, and with dejected heart. + + Swift fled the youth: nor Menelaus stands + (Though sore distress'd) to aid the Pylian bands; + But bids bold Thrasymede those troops sustain; + Himself returns to his Patroclus slain. + "Gone is Antilochus (the hero said); + But hope not, warriors, for Achilles' aid: + Though fierce his rage, unbounded be his woe, + Unarm'd, he fights not with the Trojan foe. + 'Tis in our hands alone our hopes remain, + 'Tis our own vigour must the dead regain, + And save ourselves, while with impetuous hate + Troy pours along, and this way rolls our fate." + + "'Tis well (said Ajax), be it then thy care, + With Merion's aid, the weighty corse to rear; + Myself, and my bold brother will sustain + The shock of Hector and his charging train: + Nor fear we armies, fighting side by side; + What Troy can dare, we have already tried, + Have tried it, and have stood." The hero said. + High from the ground the warriors heave the dead. + A general clamour rises at the sight: + Loud shout the Trojans, and renew the fight. + Not fiercer rush along the gloomy wood, + With rage insatiate, and with thirst of blood, + Voracious hounds, that many a length before + Their furious hunters, drive the wounded boar; + But if the savage turns his glaring eye, + They howl aloof, and round the forest fly. + Thus on retreating Greece the Trojans pour, + Wave their thick falchions, and their javelins shower: + But Ajax turning, to their fears they yield, + All pale they tremble and forsake the field. + + While thus aloft the hero's corse they bear, + Behind them rages all the storm of war: + Confusion, tumult, horror, o'er the throng + Of men, steeds, chariots, urged the rout along: + Less fierce the winds with rising flames conspire + To whelm some city under waves of fire; + Now sink in gloomy clouds the proud abodes, + Now crack the blazing temples of the gods; + The rumbling torrent through the ruin rolls, + And sheets of smoke mount heavy to the poles. + The heroes sweat beneath their honour'd load: + As when two mules, along the rugged road, + From the steep mountain with exerted strength + Drag some vast beam, or mast's unwieldy length; + Inly they groan, big drops of sweat distil, + The enormous timber lumbering down the hill: + So these--Behind, the bulk of Ajax stands, + And breaks the torrent of the rushing bands. + Thus when a river swell'd with sudden rains + Spreads his broad waters o'er the level plains, + Some interposing hill the stream divides. + And breaks its force, and turns the winding tides. + Still close they follow, close the rear engage; + Aeneas storms, and Hector foams with rage: + While Greece a heavy, thick retreat maintains, + Wedged in one body, like a flight of cranes, + That shriek incessant, while the falcon, hung + High on poised pinions, threats their callow young. + So from the Trojan chiefs the Grecians fly, + Such the wild terror, and the mingled cry: + Within, without the trench, and all the way, + Strow'd in bright heaps, their arms and armour lay; + Such horror Jove impress'd! yet still proceeds + The work of death, and still the battle bleeds. + + [Illustration: VULCAN FROM AN ANTIQUE GEM.] + + VULCAN FROM AN ANTIQUE GEM. + + + + + +BOOK XVIII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE GRIEF OF ACHILLES, AND NEW ARMOUR MADE HIM BY VULCAN. + +The news of the death of Patroclus is brought to Achilles by Antilochus. +Thetis, hearing his lamentations, comes with all her sea- nymphs to +comfort him. The speeches of the mother and son on this occasion. Iris +appears to Achilles by the command of Juno, and orders him to show himself +at the head of the intrenchments. The sight of him turns the fortunes of +the day, and the body of Patroclus is carried off by the Greeks. The +Trojans call a council, where Hector and Polydamas disagree in their +opinions: but the advice of the former prevails, to remain encamped in the +field. The grief of Achilles over the body of Patroclus. + +Thetis goes to the palace of Vulcan to obtain new arms for her son. The +description of the wonderful works of Vulcan: and, lastly, that noble one +of the shield of Achilles. + +The latter part of the nine-and-twentieth day, and the night ensuing, take +up this book: the scene is at Achilles' tent on the sea-shore, from whence +it changes to the palace of Vulcan. + + Thus like the rage of fire the combat burns,(250) + And now it rises, now it sinks by turns. + Meanwhile, where Hellespont's broad waters flow, + Stood Nestor's son, the messenger of woe: + There sat Achilles, shaded by his sails, + On hoisted yards extended to the gales; + Pensive he sat; for all that fate design'd + Rose in sad prospect to his boding mind. + Thus to his soul he said: "Ah! what constrains + The Greeks, late victors, now to quit the plains? + Is this the day, which heaven so long ago + Ordain'd, to sink me with the weight of woe? + (So Thetis warn'd;) when by a Trojan hand + The bravest of the Myrmidonian band + Should lose the light! Fulfilled is that decree; + Fallen is the warrior, and Patroclus he! + In vain I charged him soon to quit the plain, + And warn'd to shun Hectorean force in vain!" + + Thus while he thinks, Antilochus appears, + And tells the melancholy tale with tears. + "Sad tidings, son of Peleus! thou must hear; + And wretched I, the unwilling messenger! + Dead is Patroclus! For his corse they fight; + His naked corse: his arms are Hector's right." + + A sudden horror shot through all the chief, + And wrapp'd his senses in the cloud of grief; + Cast on the ground, with furious hands he spread + The scorching ashes o'er his graceful head; + His purple garments, and his golden hairs, + Those he deforms with dust, and these he tears; + On the hard soil his groaning breast he threw, + And roll'd and grovell'd, as to earth he grew. + The virgin captives, with disorder'd charms, + (Won by his own, or by Patroclus' arms,) + Rush'd from their tents with cries; and gathering round, + Beat their white breasts, and fainted on the ground: + While Nestor's son sustains a manlier part, + And mourns the warrior with a warrior's heart; + Hangs on his arms, amidst his frantic woe, + And oft prevents the meditated blow. + + Far in the deep abysses of the main,(251) + With hoary Nereus, and the watery train, + The mother-goddess from her crystal throne + Heard his loud cries, and answer'd groan for groan. + The circling Nereids with their mistress weep, + And all the sea-green sisters of the deep. + Thalia, Glauce (every watery name), + Nesaea mild, and silver Spio came: + Cymothoe and Cymodoce were nigh, + And the blue languish of soft Alia's eye. + Their locks Actaea and Limnoria rear, + Then Proto, Doris, Panope appear, + Thoa, Pherusa, Doto, Melita; + Agave gentle, and Amphithoe gay: + Next Callianira, Callianassa show + Their sister looks; Dexamene the slow, + And swift Dynamene, now cut the tides: + Iaera now the verdant wave divides: + Nemertes with Apseudes lifts the head, + Bright Galatea quits her pearly bed; + These Orythia, Clymene, attend, + Maera, Amphinome, the train extend; + And black Janira, and Janassa fair, + And Amatheia with her amber hair. + All these, and all that deep in ocean held + Their sacred seats, the glimmering grotto fill'd; + Each beat her ivory breast with silent woe, + Till Thetis' sorrows thus began to flow: + + "Hear me, and judge, ye sisters of the main! + How just a cause has Thetis to complain! + How wretched, were I mortal, were my fate! + How more than wretched in the immortal state! + Sprung from my bed a godlike hero came, + The bravest far that ever bore the name; + Like some fair olive, by my careful hand + He grew, he flourish'd and adorn'd the land + To Troy I sent him: but the fates ordain + He never, never must return again. + So short a space the light of heaven to view, + So short, alas! and fill'd with anguish too! + Hear how his sorrows echo through the shore! + I cannot ease them, but I must deplore; + I go at least to bear a tender part, + And mourn my loved-one with a mother's heart." + + She said, and left the caverns of the main, + All bathed in tears; the melancholy train + Attend her way. Wide-opening part the tides, + While the long pomp the silver wave divides. + Approaching now, they touch'd the Trojan land; + Then, two by two, ascended up the strand. + The immortal mother, standing close beside + Her mournful offspring, to his sighs replied; + Along the coast their mingled clamours ran, + And thus the silver-footed dame began: + + "Why mourns my son? thy late preferr'd request + The god has granted, and the Greeks distress'd: + Why mourns my son? thy anguish let me share, + Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's care." + + He, deeply groaning--"To this cureless grief, + Not even the Thunderer's favour brings relief. + Patroclus--Ah!--say, goddess, can I boast + A pleasure now? revenge itself is lost; + Patroclus, loved of all my martial train, + Beyond mankind, beyond myself is slain! + Lost are those arms the gods themselves bestow'd + On Peleus; Hector bears the glorious load. + Cursed be that day, when all the powers above + Thy charms submitted to a mortal love: + O hadst thou still, a sister of the main, + Pursued the pleasures of the watery reign: + And happier Peleus, less ambitious, led + A mortal beauty to his equal bed! + Ere the sad fruit of thy unhappy womb + Had caused such sorrows past, and woes to come. + For soon, alas! that wretched offspring slain, + New woes, new sorrows, shall create again. + 'Tis not in fate the alternate now to give; + Patroclus dead, Achilles hates to live. + Let me revenge it on proud Hector's heart, + Let his last spirit smoke upon my dart; + On these conditions will I breathe: till then, + I blush to walk among the race of men." + + A flood of tears, at this, the goddess shed: + "Ah then, I see thee dying, see thee dead! + When Hector falls, thou diest."--"Let Hector die, + And let me fall! (Achilles made reply) + Far lies Patroclus from his native plain! + He fell, and falling, wish'd my aid in vain. + Ah then, since from this miserable day + I cast all hope of my return away; + Since, unrevenged, a hundred ghosts demand + The fate of Hector from Achilles' hand; + Since here, for brutal courage far renown'd, + I live an idle burden to the ground, + (Others in council famed for nobler skill, + More useful to preserve, than I to kill,) + Let me--But oh! ye gracious powers above! + Wrath and revenge from men and gods remove: + Far, far too dear to every mortal breast, + Sweet to the soul, as honey to the taste: + Gathering like vapours of a noxious kind + From fiery blood, and darkening all the mind. + Me Agamemnon urged to deadly hate; + 'Tis past--I quell it; I resign to fate. + Yes--I will meet the murderer of my friend; + Or (if the gods ordain it) meet my end. + The stroke of fate the strongest cannot shun: + The great Alcides, Jove's unequall'd son, + To Juno's hate, at length resign'd his breath, + And sunk the victim of all-conquering death. + So shall Achilles fall! stretch'd pale and dead, + No more the Grecian hope, or Trojan dread! + Let me, this instant, rush into the fields, + And reap what glory life's short harvest yields. + Shall I not force some widow'd dame to tear + With frantic hands her long dishevell'd hair? + Shall I not force her breast to heave with sighs, + And the soft tears to trickle from her eyes? + Yes, I shall give the fair those mournful charms-- + In vain you hold me--Hence! my arms! my arms!-- + Soon shall the sanguine torrent spread so wide, + That all shall know Achilles swells the tide." + + "My son (coerulean Thetis made reply, + To fate submitting with a secret sigh,) + The host to succour, and thy friends to save, + Is worthy thee; the duty of the brave. + But canst thou, naked, issue to the plains? + Thy radiant arms the Trojan foe detains. + Insulting Hector bears the spoils on high, + But vainly glories, for his fate is nigh. + Yet, yet awhile thy generous ardour stay; + Assured, I meet thee at the dawn of day, + Charged with refulgent arms (a glorious load), + Vulcanian arms, the labour of a god." + + Then turning to the daughters of the main, + The goddess thus dismiss'd her azure train: + + "Ye sister Nereids! to your deeps descend; + Haste, and our father's sacred seat attend; + I go to find the architect divine, + Where vast Olympus' starry summits shine: + So tell our hoary sire"--This charge she gave: + The sea-green sisters plunge beneath the wave: + Thetis once more ascends the bless'd abodes, + And treads the brazen threshold of the gods. + + [Illustration: THETIS ORDERING THE NEREIDS TO DESCEND INTO THE SEA.] + + THETIS ORDERING THE NEREIDS TO DESCEND INTO THE SEA. + + + And now the Greeks from furious Hector's force, + Urge to broad Hellespont their headlong course; + Nor yet their chiefs Patroclus' body bore + Safe through the tempest to the tented shore. + The horse, the foot, with equal fury join'd, + Pour'd on the rear, and thunder'd close behind: + And like a flame through fields of ripen'd corn, + The rage of Hector o'er the ranks was borne. + Thrice the slain hero by the foot he drew; + Thrice to the skies the Trojan clamours flew: + As oft the Ajaces his assault sustain; + But check'd, he turns; repuls'd, attacks again. + With fiercer shouts his lingering troops he fires, + Nor yields a step, nor from his post retires: + So watchful shepherds strive to force, in vain, + The hungry lion from a carcase slain. + Even yet Patroclus had he borne away, + And all the glories of the extended day, + Had not high Juno from the realms of air, + Secret, despatch'd her trusty messenger. + The various goddess of the showery bow, + Shot in a whirlwind to the shore below; + To great Achilles at his ships she came, + And thus began the many-colour'd dame: + + "Rise, son of Peleus! rise, divinely brave! + Assist the combat, and Patroclus save: + For him the slaughter to the fleet they spread, + And fall by mutual wounds around the dead. + To drag him back to Troy the foe contends: + Nor with his death the rage of Hector ends: + A prey to dogs he dooms the corse to lie, + And marks the place to fix his head on high. + Rise, and prevent (if yet you think of fame) + Thy friend's disgrace, thy own eternal shame!" + + "Who sends thee, goddess, from the ethereal skies?" + Achilles thus. And Iris thus replies: + + "I come, Pelides! from the queen of Jove, + The immortal empress of the realms above; + Unknown to him who sits remote on high, + Unknown to all the synod of the sky." + "Thou comest in vain (he cries, with fury warm'd); + Arms I have none, and can I fight unarm'd? + Unwilling as I am, of force I stay, + Till Thetis bring me at the dawn of day + Vulcanian arms: what other can I wield, + Except the mighty Telamonian shield? + That, in my friend's defence, has Ajax spread, + While his strong lance around him heaps the dead: + The gallant chief defends Menoetius' son, + And does what his Achilles should have done." + + "Thy want of arms (said Iris) well we know; + But though unarm'd, yet clad in terrors, go! + Let but Achilles o'er yon trench appear, + Proud Troy shall tremble, and consent to fear; + Greece from one glance of that tremendous eye + Shall take new courage, and disdain to fly." + + She spoke, and pass'd in air. The hero rose: + Her aegis Pallas o'er his shoulder throws; + Around his brows a golden cloud she spread; + A stream of glory flamed above his head. + As when from some beleaguer'd town arise + The smokes, high curling to the shaded skies; + (Seen from some island, o'er the main afar, + When men distress'd hang out the sign of war;) + Soon as the sun in ocean hides his rays, + Thick on the hills the flaming beacons blaze; + With long-projected beams the seas are bright, + And heaven's high arch reflects the ruddy light: + So from Achilles' head the splendours rise, + Reflecting blaze on blaze against the skies. + Forth march'd the chief, and distant from the crowd, + High on the rampart raised his voice aloud; + With her own shout Minerva swells the sound; + Troy starts astonish'd, and the shores rebound. + As the loud trumpet's brazen mouth from far + With shrilling clangour sounds the alarm of war, + Struck from the walls, the echoes float on high, + And the round bulwarks and thick towers reply; + So high his brazen voice the hero rear'd: + Hosts dropp'd their arms, and trembled as they heard: + And back the chariots roll, and coursers bound, + And steeds and men lie mingled on the ground. + Aghast they see the living lightnings play, + And turn their eyeballs from the flashing ray. + Thrice from the trench his dreadful voice he raised, + And thrice they fled, confounded and amazed. + Twelve in the tumult wedged, untimely rush'd + On their own spears, by their own chariots crush'd: + While, shielded from the darts, the Greeks obtain + The long-contended carcase of the slain. + + A lofty bier the breathless warrior bears: + Around, his sad companions melt in tears. + But chief Achilles, bending down his head, + Pours unavailing sorrows o'er the dead, + Whom late triumphant, with his steeds and car, + He sent refulgent to the field of war; + (Unhappy change!) now senseless, pale, he found, + Stretch'd forth, and gash'd with many a gaping wound. + + Meantime, unwearied with his heavenly way, + In ocean's waves the unwilling light of day + Quench'd his red orb, at Juno's high command, + And from their labours eased the Achaian band. + The frighted Trojans (panting from the war, + Their steeds unharness'd from the weary car) + A sudden council call'd: each chief appear'd + In haste, and standing; for to sit they fear'd. + 'Twas now no season for prolong'd debate; + They saw Achilles, and in him their fate. + Silent they stood: Polydamas at last, + Skill'd to discern the future by the past, + The son of Panthus, thus express'd his fears + (The friend of Hector, and of equal years; + The self-same night to both a being gave, + One wise in council, one in action brave): + + [Illustration: JUNO COMMANDING THE SUN TO SET.] + + JUNO COMMANDING THE SUN TO SET. + + + "In free debate, my friends, your sentence speak; + For me, I move, before the morning break, + To raise our camp: too dangerous here our post, + Far from Troy walls, and on a naked coast. + I deem'd not Greece so dreadful, while engaged + In mutual feuds her king and hero raged; + Then, while we hoped our armies might prevail + We boldly camp'd beside a thousand sail. + I dread Pelides now: his rage of mind + Not long continues to the shores confined, + Nor to the fields, where long in equal fray + Contending nations won and lost the day; + For Troy, for Troy, shall henceforth be the strife, + And the hard contest not for fame, but life. + Haste then to Ilion, while the favouring night + Detains these terrors, keeps that arm from fight. + If but the morrow's sun behold us here, + That arm, those terrors, we shall feel, not fear; + And hearts that now disdain, shall leap with joy, + If heaven permit them then to enter Troy. + Let not my fatal prophecy be true, + Nor what I tremble but to think, ensue. + Whatever be our fate, yet let us try + What force of thought and reason can supply; + Let us on counsel for our guard depend; + The town her gates and bulwarks shall defend. + When morning dawns, our well-appointed powers, + Array'd in arms, shall line the lofty towers. + Let the fierce hero, then, when fury calls, + Vent his mad vengeance on our rocky walls, + Or fetch a thousand circles round the plain, + Till his spent coursers seek the fleet again: + So may his rage be tired, and labour'd down! + And dogs shall tear him ere he sack the town." + + "Return! (said Hector, fired with stern disdain) + What! coop whole armies in our walls again? + Was't not enough, ye valiant warriors, say, + Nine years imprison'd in those towers ye lay? + Wide o'er the world was Ilion famed of old + For brass exhaustless, and for mines of gold: + But while inglorious in her walls we stay'd, + Sunk were her treasures, and her stores decay'd; + The Phrygians now her scatter'd spoils enjoy, + And proud Maeonia wastes the fruits of Troy. + Great Jove at length my arms to conquest calls, + And shuts the Grecians in their wooden walls, + Darest thou dispirit whom the gods incite? + Flies any Trojan? I shall stop his flight. + To better counsel then attention lend; + Take due refreshment, and the watch attend. + If there be one whose riches cost him care, + Forth let him bring them for the troops to share; + 'Tis better generously bestow'd on those, + Than left the plunder of our country's foes. + Soon as the morn the purple orient warms, + Fierce on yon navy will we pour our arms. + If great Achilles rise in all his might, + His be the danger: I shall stand the fight. + Honour, ye gods! or let me gain or give; + And live he glorious, whosoe'er shall live! + Mars is our common lord, alike to all; + And oft the victor triumphs, but to fall." + + The shouting host in loud applauses join'd; + So Pallas robb'd the many of their mind; + To their own sense condemn'd, and left to choose + The worst advice, the better to refuse. + + While the long night extends her sable reign, + Around Patroclus mourn'd the Grecian train. + Stern in superior grief Pelides stood; + Those slaughtering arms, so used to bathe in blood, + Now clasp his clay-cold limbs: then gushing start + The tears, and sighs burst from his swelling heart. + The lion thus, with dreadful anguish stung, + Roars through the desert, and demands his young; + When the grim savage, to his rifled den + Too late returning, snuffs the track of men, + And o'er the vales and o'er the forest bounds; + His clamorous grief the bellowing wood resounds. + So grieves Achilles; and, impetuous, vents + To all his Myrmidons his loud laments. + + "In what vain promise, gods! did I engage, + When to console Menoetius' feeble age, + I vowed his much-loved offspring to restore, + Charged with rich spoils, to fair Opuntia's shore?(252) + But mighty Jove cuts short, with just disdain, + The long, long views of poor designing man! + One fate the warrior and the friend shall strike, + And Troy's black sands must drink our blood alike: + Me too a wretched mother shall deplore, + An aged father never see me more! + Yet, my Patroclus! yet a space I stay, + Then swift pursue thee on the darksome way. + Ere thy dear relics in the grave are laid, + Shall Hector's head be offer'd to thy shade; + That, with his arms, shall hang before thy shrine; + And twelve, the noblest of the Trojan line, + Sacred to vengeance, by this hand expire; + Their lives effused around thy flaming pyre. + Thus let me lie till then! thus, closely press'd, + Bathe thy cold face, and sob upon thy breast! + While Trojan captives here thy mourners stay, + Weep all the night and murmur all the day: + Spoils of my arms, and thine; when, wasting wide, + Our swords kept time, and conquer'd side by side." + + He spoke, and bade the sad attendants round + Cleanse the pale corse, and wash each honour'd wound. + A massy caldron of stupendous frame + They brought, and placed it o'er the rising flame: + Then heap'd the lighted wood; the flame divides + Beneath the vase, and climbs around the sides: + In its wide womb they pour the rushing stream; + The boiling water bubbles to the brim. + The body then they bathe with pious toil, + Embalm the wounds, anoint the limbs with oil, + High on a bed of state extended laid, + And decent cover'd with a linen shade; + Last o'er the dead the milk-white veil they threw; + That done, their sorrows and their sighs renew. + + Meanwhile to Juno, in the realms above, + (His wife and sister,) spoke almighty Jove. + "At last thy will prevails: great Peleus' son + Rises in arms: such grace thy Greeks have won. + Say (for I know not), is their race divine, + And thou the mother of that martial line?" + + "What words are these? (the imperial dame replies, + While anger flash'd from her majestic eyes) + Succour like this a mortal arm might lend, + And such success mere human wit attend: + And shall not I, the second power above, + Heaven's queen, and consort of the thundering Jove, + Say, shall not I one nation's fate command, + Not wreak my vengeance on one guilty land?" + + [Illustration: TRIPOD.] + + TRIPOD. + + + So they. Meanwhile the silver-footed dame + Reach'd the Vulcanian dome, eternal frame! + High-eminent amid the works divine, + Where heaven's far-beaming brazen mansions shine. + There the lame architect the goddess found, + Obscure in smoke, his forges flaming round, + While bathed in sweat from fire to fire he flew; + And puffing loud, the roaring billows blew. + That day no common task his labour claim'd: + Full twenty tripods for his hall he framed, + That placed on living wheels of massy gold, + (Wondrous to tell,) instinct with spirit roll'd + From place to place, around the bless'd abodes + Self-moved, obedient to the beck of gods: + For their fair handles now, o'erwrought with flowers, + In moulds prepared, the glowing ore he pours. + Just as responsive to his thought the frame + Stood prompt to move, the azure goddess came: + Charis, his spouse, a grace divinely fair, + (With purple fillets round her braided hair,) + Observed her entering; her soft hand she press'd, + And, smiling, thus the watery queen address'd: + + "What, goddess! this unusual favour draws? + All hail, and welcome! whatsoe'er the cause; + Till now a stranger, in a happy hour + Approach, and taste the dainties of the bower." + + [Illustration: THETIS AND EURYNOME RECEIVING THE INFANT VULCAN.] + + THETIS AND EURYNOME RECEIVING THE INFANT VULCAN. + + + High on a throne, with stars of silver graced, + And various artifice, the queen she placed; + A footstool at her feet: then calling, said, + "Vulcan, draw near, 'tis Thetis asks your aid." + "Thetis (replied the god) our powers may claim, + An ever-dear, an ever-honour'd name! + When my proud mother hurl'd me from the sky, + (My awkward form, it seems, displeased her eye,) + She, and Eurynome, my griefs redress'd, + And soft received me on their silver breast. + Even then these arts employ'd my infant thought: + Chains, bracelets, pendants, all their toys, I wrought. + Nine years kept secret in the dark abode, + Secure I lay, conceal'd from man and god: + Deep in a cavern'd rock my days were led; + The rushing ocean murmur'd o'er my head. + Now, since her presence glads our mansion, say, + For such desert what service can I pay? + Vouchsafe, O Thetis! at our board to share + The genial rites, and hospitable fare; + While I the labours of the forge forego, + And bid the roaring bellows cease to blow." + + Then from his anvil the lame artist rose; + Wide with distorted legs oblique he goes, + And stills the bellows, and (in order laid) + Locks in their chests his instruments of trade. + Then with a sponge the sooty workman dress'd + His brawny arms embrown'd, and hairy breast. + With his huge sceptre graced, and red attire, + Came halting forth the sovereign of the fire: + The monarch's steps two female forms uphold, + That moved and breathed in animated gold; + To whom was voice, and sense, and science given + Of works divine (such wonders are in heaven!) + On these supported, with unequal gait, + He reach'd the throne where pensive Thetis sate; + There placed beside her on the shining frame, + He thus address'd the silver-footed dame: + + "Thee, welcome, goddess! what occasion calls + (So long a stranger) to these honour'd walls? + 'Tis thine, fair Thetis, the command to lay, + And Vulcan's joy and duty to obey." + + [Illustration: VULCAN AND CHARIS RECEIVING THETIS.] + + VULCAN AND CHARIS RECEIVING THETIS. + + + To whom the mournful mother thus replies: + (The crystal drops stood trembling in her eyes:) + "O Vulcan! say, was ever breast divine + So pierced with sorrows, so o'erwhelm'd as mine? + Of all the goddesses, did Jove prepare + For Thetis only such a weight of care? + I, only I, of all the watery race + By force subjected to a man's embrace, + Who, sinking now with age and sorrow, pays + The mighty fine imposed on length of days. + Sprung from my bed, a godlike hero came, + The bravest sure that ever bore the name; + Like some fair plant beneath my careful hand + He grew, he flourish'd, and he graced the land: + To Troy I sent him! but his native shore + Never, ah never, shall receive him more; + (Even while he lives, he wastes with secret woe;) + Nor I, a goddess, can retard the blow! + Robb'd of the prize the Grecian suffrage gave, + The king of nations forced his royal slave: + For this he grieved; and, till the Greeks oppress'd + Required his arm, he sorrow'd unredress'd. + Large gifts they promise, and their elders send; + In vain--he arms not, but permits his friend + His arms, his steeds, his forces to employ: + He marches, combats, almost conquers Troy: + Then slain by Phoebus (Hector had the name) + At once resigns his armour, life, and fame. + But thou, in pity, by my prayer be won: + Grace with immortal arms this short-lived son, + And to the field in martial pomp restore, + To shine with glory, till he shines no more!" + + To her the artist-god: "Thy griefs resign, + Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine. + O could I hide him from the Fates, as well, + Or with these hands the cruel stroke repel, + As I shall forge most envied arms, the gaze + Of wondering ages, and the world's amaze!" + + Thus having said, the father of the fires + To the black labours of his forge retires. + Soon as he bade them blow, the bellows turn'd + Their iron mouths; and where the furnace burn'd, + Resounding breathed: at once the blast expires, + And twenty forges catch at once the fires; + Just as the god directs, now loud, now low, + They raise a tempest, or they gently blow; + In hissing flames huge silver bars are roll'd, + And stubborn brass, and tin, and solid gold; + Before, deep fix'd, the eternal anvils stand; + The ponderous hammer loads his better hand, + His left with tongs turns the vex'd metal round, + And thick, strong strokes, the doubling vaults rebound. + + Then first he form'd the immense and solid shield; + Rich various artifice emblazed the field; + Its utmost verge a threefold circle bound;(253) + A silver chain suspends the massy round; + Five ample plates the broad expanse compose, + And godlike labours on the surface rose. + There shone the image of the master-mind: + There earth, there heaven, there ocean he design'd; + The unwearied sun, the moon completely round; + The starry lights that heaven's high convex crown'd; + The Pleiads, Hyads, with the northern team; + And great Orion's more refulgent beam; + To which, around the axle of the sky, + The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye, + Still shines exalted on the ethereal plain, + Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main. + + Two cities radiant on the shield appear, + The image one of peace, and one of war. + Here sacred pomp and genial feast delight, + And solemn dance, and hymeneal rite; + Along the street the new-made brides are led, + With torches flaming, to the nuptial bed: + The youthful dancers in a circle bound + To the soft flute, and cithern's silver sound: + Through the fair streets the matrons in a row + Stand in their porches, and enjoy the show. + + There in the forum swarm a numerous train; + The subject of debate, a townsman slain: + One pleads the fine discharged, which one denied, + And bade the public and the laws decide: + The witness is produced on either hand: + For this, or that, the partial people stand: + The appointed heralds still the noisy bands, + And form a ring, with sceptres in their hands: + On seats of stone, within the sacred place,(254) + The reverend elders nodded o'er the case; + Alternate, each the attesting sceptre took, + And rising solemn, each his sentence spoke + Two golden talents lay amidst, in sight, + The prize of him who best adjudged the right. + + Another part (a prospect differing far)(255) + Glow'd with refulgent arms, and horrid war. + Two mighty hosts a leaguer'd town embrace, + And one would pillage, one would burn the place. + Meantime the townsmen, arm'd with silent care, + A secret ambush on the foe prepare: + Their wives, their children, and the watchful band + Of trembling parents, on the turrets stand. + They march; by Pallas and by Mars made bold: + Gold were the gods, their radiant garments gold, + And gold their armour: these the squadron led, + August, divine, superior by the head! + A place for ambush fit they found, and stood, + Cover'd with shields, beside a silver flood. + Two spies at distance lurk, and watchful seem + If sheep or oxen seek the winding stream. + Soon the white flocks proceeded o'er the plains, + And steers slow-moving, and two shepherd swains; + Behind them piping on their reeds they go, + Nor fear an ambush, nor suspect a foe. + In arms the glittering squadron rising round + Rush sudden; hills of slaughter heap the ground; + Whole flocks and herds lie bleeding on the plains, + And, all amidst them, dead, the shepherd swains! + The bellowing oxen the besiegers hear; + They rise, take horse, approach, and meet the war, + They fight, they fall, beside the silver flood; + The waving silver seem'd to blush with blood. + There Tumult, there Contention stood confess'd; + One rear'd a dagger at a captive's breast; + One held a living foe, that freshly bled + With new-made wounds; another dragg'd a dead; + Now here, now there, the carcases they tore: + Fate stalk'd amidst them, grim with human gore. + And the whole war came out, and met the eye; + And each bold figure seem'd to live or die. + + A field deep furrow'd next the god design'd,(256) + The third time labour'd by the sweating hind; + The shining shares full many ploughmen guide, + And turn their crooked yokes on every side. + Still as at either end they wheel around, + The master meets them with his goblet crown'd; + The hearty draught rewards, renews their toil, + Then back the turning ploughshares cleave the soil: + Behind, the rising earth in ridges roll'd; + And sable look'd, though form'd of molten gold. + + Another field rose high with waving grain; + With bended sickles stand the reaper train: + Here stretched in ranks the levell'd swarths are found, + Sheaves heap'd on sheaves here thicken up the ground. + With sweeping stroke the mowers strow the lands; + The gatherers follow, and collect in bands; + And last the children, in whose arms are borne + (Too short to gripe them) the brown sheaves of corn. + The rustic monarch of the field descries, + With silent glee, the heaps around him rise. + A ready banquet on the turf is laid, + Beneath an ample oak's expanded shade. + The victim ox the sturdy youth prepare; + The reaper's due repast, the woman's care. + + Next, ripe in yellow gold, a vineyard shines, + Bent with the ponderous harvest of its vines; + A deeper dye the dangling clusters show, + And curl'd on silver props, in order glow: + A darker metal mix'd intrench'd the place; + And pales of glittering tin the inclosure grace. + To this, one pathway gently winding leads, + Where march a train with baskets on their heads, + (Fair maids and blooming youths,) that smiling bear + The purple product of the autumnal year. + To these a youth awakes the warbling strings, + Whose tender lay the fate of Linus sings; + In measured dance behind him move the train, + Tune soft the voice, and answer to the strain. + + Here herds of oxen march, erect and bold, + Rear high their horns, and seem to low in gold, + And speed to meadows on whose sounding shores + A rapid torrent through the rushes roars: + Four golden herdsmen as their guardians stand, + And nine sour dogs complete the rustic band. + Two lions rushing from the wood appear'd; + And seized a bull, the master of the herd: + He roar'd: in vain the dogs, the men withstood; + They tore his flesh, and drank his sable blood. + The dogs (oft cheer'd in vain) desert the prey, + Dread the grim terrors, and at distance bay. + + Next this, the eye the art of Vulcan leads + Deep through fair forests, and a length of meads, + And stalls, and folds, and scatter'd cots between; + And fleecy flocks, that whiten all the scene. + + A figured dance succeeds; such once was seen + In lofty Gnossus for the Cretan queen, + Form'd by Daedalean art; a comely band + Of youths and maidens, bounding hand in hand. + The maids in soft simars of linen dress'd; + The youths all graceful in the glossy vest: + Of those the locks with flowery wreath inroll'd; + Of these the sides adorn'd with swords of gold, + That glittering gay, from silver belts depend. + Now all at once they rise, at once descend, + With well-taught feet: now shape in oblique ways, + Confusedly regular, the moving maze: + Now forth at once, too swift for sight, they spring, + And undistinguish'd blend the flying ring: + So whirls a wheel, in giddy circle toss'd, + And, rapid as it runs, the single spokes are lost. + The gazing multitudes admire around: + Two active tumblers in the centre bound; + Now high, now low, their pliant limbs they bend: + And general songs the sprightly revel end. + + Thus the broad shield complete the artist crown'd + With his last hand, and pour'd the ocean round: + In living silver seem'd the waves to roll, + And beat the buckler's verge, and bound the whole. + + This done, whate'er a warrior's use requires + He forged; the cuirass that outshone the fires, + The greaves of ductile tin, the helm impress'd + With various sculpture, and the golden crest. + At Thetis' feet the finished labour lay: + She, as a falcon cuts the aerial way, + Swift from Olympus' snowy summit flies, + And bears the blazing present through the skies.(257) + + + + + +BOOK XIX. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE RECONCILIATION OF ACHILLES AND AGAMEMNON. + +Thetis brings to her son the armour made by Vulcan. She preserves the body +of his friend from corruption, and commands him to assemble the army, to +declare his resentment at an end. Agamemnon and Achilles are solemnly +reconciled: the speeches, presents, and ceremonies on that occasion. +Achilles is with great difficulty persuaded to refrain from the battle +till the troops have refreshed themselves by the advice of Ulysses. The +presents are conveyed to the tent of Achilles, where Briseis laments over +the body of Patroclus. The hero obstinately refuses all repast, and gives +himself up to lamentations for his friend. Minerva descends to strengthen +him, by the order of Jupiter. He arms for the fight: his appearance +described. He addresses himself to his horses, and reproaches them with +the death of Patroclus. One of them is miraculously endued with voice, and +inspired to prophesy his fate: but the hero, not astonished by that +prodigy, rushes with fury to the combat. + +The thirteenth day. The scene is on the sea-shore. + + Soon as Aurora heaved her Orient head + Above the waves, that blush'd with early red, + (With new-born day to gladden mortal sight, + And gild the courts of heaven with sacred light,) + The immortal arms the goddess-mother bears + Swift to her son: her son she finds in tears + Stretch'd o'er Patroclus' corse; while all the rest + Their sovereign's sorrows in their own express'd. + A ray divine her heavenly presence shed, + And thus, his hand soft touching, Thetis said: + + "Suppress, my son, this rage of grief, and know + It was not man, but heaven, that gave the blow; + Behold what arms by Vulcan are bestow'd, + Arms worthy thee, or fit to grace a god." + + Then drops the radiant burden on the ground; + Clang the strong arms, and ring the shores around; + Back shrink the Myrmidons with dread surprise, + And from the broad effulgence turn their eyes. + Unmoved the hero kindles at the show, + And feels with rage divine his bosom glow; + From his fierce eyeballs living flames expire, + And flash incessant like a stream of fire: + He turns the radiant gift: and feeds his mind + On all the immortal artist had design'd. + + "Goddess! (he cried,) these glorious arms, that shine + With matchless art, confess the hand divine. + Now to the bloody battle let me bend: + But ah! the relics of my slaughter'd friend! + In those wide wounds through which his spirit fled, + Shall flies, and worms obscene, pollute the dead?" + + "That unavailing care be laid aside, + (The azure goddess to her son replied,) + Whole years untouch'd, uninjured shall remain, + Fresh as in life, the carcase of the slain. + But go, Achilles, as affairs require, + Before the Grecian peers renounce thine ire: + Then uncontroll'd in boundless war engage, + And heaven with strength supply the mighty rage!" + + [Illustration: THETIS BRINGING THE ARMOUR TO ACHILLES.] + + THETIS BRINGING THE ARMOUR TO ACHILLES. + + + Then in the nostrils of the slain she pour'd + Nectareous drops, and rich ambrosia shower'd + O'er all the corse. The flies forbid their prey, + Untouch'd it rests, and sacred from decay. + Achilles to the strand obedient went: + The shores resounded with the voice he sent. + The heroes heard, and all the naval train + That tend the ships, or guide them o'er the main, + Alarm'd, transported, at the well-known sound, + Frequent and full, the great assembly crown'd; + Studious to see the terror of the plain, + Long lost to battle, shine in arms again. + Tydides and Ulysses first appear, + Lame with their wounds, and leaning on the spear; + These on the sacred seats of council placed, + The king of men, Atrides, came the last: + He too sore wounded by Agenor's son. + Achilles (rising in the midst) begun: + + "O monarch! better far had been the fate + Of thee, of me, of all the Grecian state, + If (ere the day when by mad passion sway'd, + Rash we contended for the black-eyed maid) + Preventing Dian had despatch'd her dart, + And shot the shining mischief to the heart! + Then many a hero had not press'd the shore, + Nor Troy's glad fields been fatten'd with our gore. + Long, long shall Greece the woes we caused bewail, + And sad posterity repeat the tale. + But this, no more the subject of debate, + Is past, forgotten, and resign'd to fate. + Why should, alas, a mortal man, as I, + Burn with a fury that can never die? + Here then my anger ends: let war succeed, + And even as Greece has bled, let Ilion bleed. + Now call the hosts, and try if in our sight + Troy yet shall dare to camp a second night! + I deem, their mightiest, when this arm he knows, + Shall 'scape with transport, and with joy repose." + + He said: his finish'd wrath with loud acclaim + The Greeks accept, and shout Pelides' name. + When thus, not rising from his lofty throne, + In state unmoved, the king of men begun: + + "Hear me, ye sons of Greece! with silence hear! + And grant your monarch an impartial ear: + Awhile your loud, untimely joy suspend, + And let your rash, injurious clamours end: + Unruly murmurs, or ill-timed applause, + Wrong the best speaker, and the justest cause. + Nor charge on me, ye Greeks, the dire debate: + Know, angry Jove, and all-compelling Fate, + With fell Erinnys, urged my wrath that day + When from Achilles' arms I forced the prey. + What then could I against the will of heaven? + Not by myself, but vengeful Ate driven; + She, Jove's dread daughter, fated to infest + The race of mortals, enter'd in my breast. + Not on the ground that haughty fury treads, + But prints her lofty footsteps on the heads + Of mighty men; inflicting as she goes + Long-festering wounds, inextricable woes! + Of old, she stalk'd amid the bright abodes; + And Jove himself, the sire of men and gods, + The world's great ruler, felt her venom'd dart; + Deceived by Juno's wiles, and female art: + For when Alcmena's nine long months were run, + And Jove expected his immortal son, + To gods and goddesses the unruly joy + He show'd, and vaunted of his matchless boy: + 'From us, (he said) this day an infant springs, + Fated to rule, and born a king of kings.' + Saturnia ask'd an oath, to vouch the truth, + And fix dominion on the favour'd youth. + The Thunderer, unsuspicious of the fraud, + Pronounced those solemn words that bind a god. + The joyful goddess, from Olympus' height, + Swift to Achaian Argos bent her flight: + Scarce seven moons gone, lay Sthenelus's wife; + She push'd her lingering infant into life: + Her charms Alcmena's coming labours stay, + And stop the babe, just issuing to the day. + Then bids Saturnius bear his oath in mind; + 'A youth (said she) of Jove's immortal kind + Is this day born: from Sthenelus he springs, + And claims thy promise to be king of kings.' + Grief seized the Thunderer, by his oath engaged; + Stung to the soul, he sorrow'd, and he raged. + From his ambrosial head, where perch'd she sate, + He snatch'd the fury-goddess of debate, + The dread, the irrevocable oath he swore, + The immortal seats should ne'er behold her more; + And whirl'd her headlong down, for ever driven + From bright Olympus and the starry heaven: + Thence on the nether world the fury fell; + Ordain'd with man's contentious race to dwell. + Full oft the god his son's hard toils bemoan'd, + Cursed the dire fury, and in secret groan'd.(258) + Even thus, like Jove himself, was I misled, + While raging Hector heap'd our camps with dead. + What can the errors of my rage atone? + My martial troops, my treasures are thy own: + This instant from the navy shall be sent + Whate'er Ulysses promised at thy tent: + But thou! appeased, propitious to our prayer, + Resume thy arms, and shine again in war." + + " O king of nations! whose superior sway + (Returns Achilles) all our hosts obey! + To keep or send the presents, be thy care; + To us, 'tis equal: all we ask is war. + While yet we talk, or but an instant shun + The fight, our glorious work remains undone. + Let every Greek, who sees my spear confound + The Trojan ranks, and deal destruction round, + With emulation, what I act survey, + And learn from thence the business of the day. + + The son of Peleus thus; and thus replies + The great in councils, Ithacus the wise: + "Though, godlike, thou art by no toils oppress'd, + At least our armies claim repast and rest: + Long and laborious must the combat be, + When by the gods inspired, and led by thee. + Strength is derived from spirits and from blood, + And those augment by generous wine and food: + What boastful son of war, without that stay, + Can last a hero through a single day? + Courage may prompt; but, ebbing out his strength, + Mere unsupported man must yield at length; + Shrunk with dry famine, and with toils declined, + The drooping body will desert the mind: + But built anew with strength-conferring fare, + With limbs and soul untamed, he tires a war. + Dismiss the people, then, and give command. + With strong repast to hearten every band; + But let the presents to Achilles made, + In full assembly of all Greece be laid. + The king of men shall rise in public sight, + And solemn swear (observant of the rite) + That, spotless, as she came, the maid removes, + Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his loves. + That done, a sumptuous banquet shall be made, + And the full price of injured honour paid. + Stretch not henceforth, O prince.! thy sovereign might + Beyond the bounds of reason and of right; + 'Tis the chief praise that e'er to kings belong'd, + To right with justice whom with power they wrong'd." + + To him the monarch: "Just is thy decree, + Thy words give joy, and wisdom breathes in thee. + Each due atonement gladly I prepare; + And heaven regard me as I justly swear! + Here then awhile let Greece assembled stay, + Nor great Achilles grudge this short delay. + Till from the fleet our presents be convey'd, + And Jove attesting, the firm compact made. + A train of noble youths the charge shall bear; + These to select, Ulysses, be thy care: + In order rank'd let all our gifts appear, + And the fair train of captives close the rear: + Talthybius shall the victim boar convey, + Sacred to Jove, and yon bright orb of day." + + "For this (the stern AEacides replies) + Some less important season may suffice, + When the stern fury of the war is o'er, + And wrath, extinguish'd, burns my breast no more. + By Hector slain, their faces to the sky, + All grim with gaping wounds, our heroes lie: + Those call to war! and might my voice incite, + Now, now, this instant, shall commence the fight: + Then, when the day's complete, let generous bowls, + And copious banquets, glad your weary souls. + Let not my palate know the taste of food, + Till my insatiate rage be cloy'd with blood: + Pale lies my friend, with wounds disfigured o'er, + And his cold feet are pointed to the door. + Revenge is all my soul! no meaner care, + Interest, or thought, has room to harbour there; + Destruction be my feast, and mortal wounds, + And scenes of blood, and agonizing sounds." + + "O first of Greeks, (Ulysses thus rejoin'd,) + The best and bravest of the warrior kind! + Thy praise it is in dreadful camps to shine, + But old experience and calm wisdom mine. + Then hear my counsel, and to reason yield, + The bravest soon are satiate of the field; + Though vast the heaps that strow the crimson plain, + The bloody harvest brings but little gain: + The scale of conquest ever wavering lies, + Great Jove but turns it, and the victor dies! + The great, the bold, by thousands daily fall, + And endless were the grief, to weep for all. + Eternal sorrows what avails to shed? + Greece honours not with solemn fasts the dead: + Enough, when death demands the brave, to pay + The tribute of a melancholy day. + One chief with patience to the grave resign'd, + Our care devolves on others left behind. + Let generous food supplies of strength produce, + Let rising spirits flow from sprightly juice, + Let their warm heads with scenes of battle glow, + And pour new furies on the feebler foe. + Yet a short interval, and none shall dare + Expect a second summons to the war; + Who waits for that, the dire effects shall find, + If trembling in the ships he lags behind. + Embodied, to the battle let us bend, + And all at once on haughty Troy descend." + + And now the delegates Ulysses sent, + To bear the presents from the royal tent: + The sons of Nestor, Phyleus' valiant heir, + Thias and Merion, thunderbolts of war, + With Lycomedes of Creiontian strain, + And Melanippus, form'd the chosen train. + Swift as the word was given, the youths obey'd: + Twice ten bright vases in the midst they laid; + A row of six fair tripods then succeeds; + And twice the number of high-bounding steeds: + Seven captives next a lovely line compose; + The eighth Briseis, like the blooming rose, + Closed the bright band: great Ithacus, before, + First of the train, the golden talents bore: + The rest in public view the chiefs dispose, + A splendid scene! then Agamemnon rose: + The boar Talthybius held: the Grecian lord + Drew the broad cutlass sheath'd beside his sword: + The stubborn bristles from the victim's brow + He crops, and offering meditates his vow. + His hands uplifted to the attesting skies, + On heaven's broad marble roof were fixed his eyes. + The solemn words a deep attention draw, + And Greece around sat thrill'd with sacred awe. + + "Witness thou first! thou greatest power above, + All-good, all-wise, and all-surveying Jove! + And mother-earth, and heaven's revolving light, + And ye, fell furies of the realms of night, + Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare + For perjured kings, and all who falsely swear! + The black-eyed maid inviolate removes, + Pure and unconscious of my manly loves. + If this be false, heaven all its vengeance shed, + And levell'd thunder strike my guilty head!" + + With that, his weapon deep inflicts the wound; + The bleeding savage tumbles to the ground; + The sacred herald rolls the victim slain + (A feast for fish) into the foaming main. + + Then thus Achilles: "Hear, ye Greeks! and know + Whate'er we feel, 'tis Jove inflicts the woe; + Not else Atrides could our rage inflame, + Nor from my arms, unwilling, force the dame. + 'Twas Jove's high will alone, o'erruling all, + That doom'd our strife, and doom'd the Greeks to fall. + Go then, ye chiefs! indulge the genial rite; + Achilles waits ye, and expects the fight." + + The speedy council at his word adjourn'd: + To their black vessels all the Greeks return'd. + Achilles sought his tent. His train before + March'd onward, bending with the gifts they bore. + Those in the tents the squires industrious spread: + The foaming coursers to the stalls they led; + To their new seats the female captives move + Briseis, radiant as the queen of love, + Slow as she pass'd, beheld with sad survey + Where, gash'd with cruel wounds, Patroclus lay. + Prone on the body fell the heavenly fair, + Beat her sad breast, and tore her golden hair; + All beautiful in grief, her humid eyes + Shining with tears she lifts, and thus she cries: + + "Ah, youth for ever dear, for ever kind, + Once tender friend of my distracted mind! + I left thee fresh in life, in beauty gay; + Now find thee cold, inanimated clay! + What woes my wretched race of life attend! + Sorrows on sorrows, never doom'd to end! + The first loved consort of my virgin bed + Before these eyes in fatal battle bled: + My three brave brothers in one mournful day + All trod the dark, irremeable way: + Thy friendly hand uprear'd me from the plain, + And dried my sorrows for a husband slain; + Achilles' care you promised I should prove, + The first, the dearest partner of his love; + That rites divine should ratify the band, + And make me empress in his native land. + Accept these grateful tears! for thee they flow, + For thee, that ever felt another's woe!" + + Her sister captives echoed groan for groan, + Nor mourn'd Patroclus' fortunes, but their own. + The leaders press'd the chief on every side; + Unmoved he heard them, and with sighs denied. + + "If yet Achilles have a friend, whose care + Is bent to please him, this request forbear; + Till yonder sun descend, ah, let me pay + To grief and anguish one abstemious day." + + He spoke, and from the warriors turn'd his face: + Yet still the brother-kings of Atreus' race, + Nestor, Idomeneus, Ulysses sage, + And Phoenix, strive to calm his grief and rage: + His rage they calm not, nor his grief control; + He groans, he raves, he sorrows from his soul. + + "Thou too, Patroclus! (thus his heart he vents) + Once spread the inviting banquet in our tents: + Thy sweet society, thy winning care, + Once stay'd Achilles, rushing to the war. + But now, alas! to death's cold arms resign'd, + What banquet but revenge can glad my mind? + What greater sorrow could afflict my breast, + What more if hoary Peleus were deceased? + Who now, perhaps, in Phthia dreads to hear + His son's sad fate, and drops a tender tear. + What more, should Neoptolemus the brave, + My only offspring, sink into the grave? + If yet that offspring lives; (I distant far, + Of all neglectful, wage a hateful war.) + I could not this, this cruel stroke attend; + Fate claim'd Achilles, but might spare his friend. + I hoped Patroclus might survive, to rear + My tender orphan with a parent's care, + From Scyros' isle conduct him o'er the main, + And glad his eyes with his paternal reign, + The lofty palace, and the large domain. + For Peleus breathes no more the vital air; + Or drags a wretched life of age and care, + But till the news of my sad fate invades + His hastening soul, and sinks him to the shades." + + Sighing he said: his grief the heroes join'd, + Each stole a tear for what he left behind. + Their mingled grief the sire of heaven survey'd, + And thus with pity to his blue-eyed maid: + + "Is then Achilles now no more thy care, + And dost thou thus desert the great in war? + Lo, where yon sails their canvas wings extend, + All comfortless he sits, and wails his friend: + Ere thirst and want his forces have oppress'd, + Haste and infuse ambrosia in his breast." + + He spoke; and sudden, at the word of Jove, + Shot the descending goddess from above. + So swift through ether the shrill harpy springs, + The wide air floating to her ample wings, + To great Achilles she her flight address'd, + And pour'd divine ambrosia in his breast,(259) + With nectar sweet, (refection of the gods!) + Then, swift ascending, sought the bright abodes. + + Now issued from the ships the warrior-train, + And like a deluge pour'd upon the plain. + As when the piercing blasts of Boreas blow, + And scatter o'er the fields the driving snow; + From dusky clouds the fleecy winter flies, + Whose dazzling lustre whitens all the skies: + So helms succeeding helms, so shields from shields, + Catch the quick beams, and brighten all the fields; + Broad glittering breastplates, spears with pointed rays, + Mix in one stream, reflecting blaze on blaze; + Thick beats the centre as the coursers bound; + With splendour flame the skies, and laugh the fields around, + + Full in the midst, high-towering o'er the rest, + His limbs in arms divine Achilles dress'd; + Arms which the father of the fire bestow'd, + Forged on the eternal anvils of the god. + Grief and revenge his furious heart inspire, + His glowing eyeballs roll with living fire; + He grinds his teeth, and furious with delay + O'erlooks the embattled host, and hopes the bloody day. + + The silver cuishes first his thighs infold; + Then o'er his breast was braced the hollow gold; + The brazen sword a various baldric tied, + That, starr'd with gems, hung glittering at his side; + And, like the moon, the broad refulgent shield + Blazed with long rays, and gleam'd athwart the field. + + So to night-wandering sailors, pale with fears, + Wide o'er the watery waste, a light appears, + Which on the far-seen mountain blazing high, + Streams from some lonely watch-tower to the sky: + With mournful eyes they gaze, and gaze again; + Loud howls the storm, and drives them o'er the main. + + Next, his high head the helmet graced; behind + The sweepy crest hung floating in the wind: + Like the red star, that from his flaming hair + Shakes down diseases, pestilence, and war; + So stream'd the golden honours from his head, + Trembled the sparkling plumes, and the loose glories shed. + The chief beholds himself with wondering eyes; + His arms he poises, and his motions tries; + Buoy'd by some inward force, he seems to swim, + And feels a pinion lifting every limb. + + And now he shakes his great paternal spear, + Ponderous and huge, which not a Greek could rear, + From Pelion's cloudy top an ash entire + Old Chiron fell'd, and shaped it for his sire; + A spear which stern Achilles only wields, + The death of heroes, and the dread of fields. + + Automedon and Alcimus prepare + The immortal coursers, and the radiant car; + (The silver traces sweeping at their side;) + Their fiery mouths resplendent bridles tied; + The ivory-studded reins, return'd behind, + Waved o'er their backs, and to the chariot join'd. + The charioteer then whirl'd the lash around, + And swift ascended at one active bound. + All bright in heavenly arms, above his squire + Achilles mounts, and sets the field on fire; + Not brighter Phoebus in the ethereal way + Flames from his chariot, and restores the day. + High o'er the host, all terrible he stands, + And thunders to his steeds these dread commands: + + "Xanthus and Balius! of Podarges' strain, + (Unless ye boast that heavenly race in vain,) + Be swift, be mindful of the load ye bear, + And learn to make your master more your care: + Through falling squadrons bear my slaughtering sword, + Nor, as ye left Patroclus, leave your lord." + + The generous Xanthus, as the words he said, + Seem'd sensible of woe, and droop'd his head: + Trembling he stood before the golden wain, + And bow'd to dust the honours of his mane. + When, strange to tell! (so Juno will'd) he broke + Eternal silence, and portentous spoke. + "Achilles! yes! this day at least we bear + Thy rage in safety through the files of war: + But come it will, the fatal time must come, + Not ours the fault, but God decrees thy doom. + Not through our crime, or slowness in the course, + Fell thy Patroclus, but by heavenly force; + The bright far-shooting god who gilds the day + (Confess'd we saw him) tore his arms way. + No--could our swiftness o'er the winds prevail, + Or beat the pinions of the western gale, + All were in vain--the Fates thy death demand, + Due to a mortal and immortal hand." + + Then ceased for ever, by the Furies tied, + His fateful voice. The intrepid chief replied + With unabated rage--"So let it be! + Portents and prodigies are lost on me. + I know my fate: to die, to see no more + My much-loved parents, and my native shore-- + Enough--when heaven ordains, I sink in night: + Now perish Troy!" He said, and rush'd to fight. + + [Illustration: HERCULES.] + + HERCULES. + + + + + +BOOK XX. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE BATTLE OF THE GODS, AND THE ACTS OF ACHILLES. + +Jupiter, upon Achilles' return to the battle, calls a council of the gods, +and permits them to assist either party. The terrors of the combat +described, when the deities are engaged. Apollo encourages AEneas to meet +Achilles. After a long conversation, these two heroes encounter; but AEneas +is preserved by the assistance of Neptune. Achilles falls upon the rest of +the Trojans, and is upon the point of killing Hector, but Apollo conveys +him away in a cloud. Achilles pursues the Trojans with a great slaughter. + +The same day continues. The scene is in the field before Troy. + + Thus round Pelides breathing war and blood + Greece, sheathed in arms, beside her vessels stood; + While near impending from a neighbouring height, + Troy's black battalions wait the shock of fight. + Then Jove to Themis gives command, to call + The gods to council in the starry hall: + Swift o'er Olympus' hundred hills she flies, + And summons all the senate of the skies. + These shining on, in long procession come + To Jove's eternal adamantine dome. + Not one was absent, not a rural power + That haunts the verdant gloom, or rosy bower; + Each fair-hair'd dryad of the shady wood, + Each azure sister of the silver flood; + All but old Ocean, hoary sire! who keeps + His ancient seat beneath the sacred deeps. + On marble thrones, with lucid columns crown'd, + (The work of Vulcan,) sat the powers around. + Even he whose trident sways the watery reign + Heard the loud summons, and forsook the main, + Assumed his throne amid the bright abodes, + And question'd thus the sire of men and gods: + + "What moves the god who heaven and earth commands, + And grasps the thunder in his awful hands, + Thus to convene the whole ethereal state? + Is Greece and Troy the subject in debate? + Already met, the louring hosts appear, + And death stands ardent on the edge of war." + + "'Tis true (the cloud-compelling power replies) + This day we call the council of the skies + In care of human race; even Jove's own eye + Sees with regret unhappy mortals die. + Far on Olympus' top in secret state + Ourself will sit, and see the hand of fate + Work out our will. Celestial powers! descend, + And as your minds direct, your succour lend + To either host. Troy soon must lie o'erthrown, + If uncontroll'd Achilles fights alone: + Their troops but lately durst not meet his eyes; + What can they now, if in his rage he rise? + Assist them, gods! or Ilion's sacred wall + May fall this day, though fate forbids the fall." + + He said, and fired their heavenly breasts with rage. + On adverse parts the warring gods engage: + Heaven's awful queen; and he whose azure round + Girds the vast globe; the maid in arms renown'd; + Hermes, of profitable arts the sire; + And Vulcan, the black sovereign of the fire: + These to the fleet repair with instant flight; + The vessels tremble as the gods alight. + In aid of Troy, Latona, Phoebus came, + Mars fiery-helm'd, the laughter-loving dame, + Xanthus, whose streams in golden currents flow, + And the chaste huntress of the silver bow. + Ere yet the gods their various aid employ, + Each Argive bosom swell'd with manly joy, + While great Achilles (terror of the plain), + Long lost to battle, shone in arms again. + Dreadful he stood in front of all his host; + Pale Troy beheld, and seem'd already lost; + Her bravest heroes pant with inward fear, + And trembling see another god of war. + + But when the powers descending swell'd the fight, + Then tumult rose: fierce rage and pale affright + Varied each face: then Discord sounds alarms, + Earth echoes, and the nations rush to arms. + Now through the trembling shores Minerva calls, + And now she thunders from the Grecian walls. + Mars hovering o'er his Troy, his terror shrouds + In gloomy tempests, and a night of clouds: + Now through each Trojan heart he fury pours + With voice divine, from Ilion's topmost towers: + Now shouts to Simois, from her beauteous hill; + The mountain shook, the rapid stream stood still. + + Above, the sire of gods his thunder rolls, + And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles. + Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid ground; + The forests wave, the mountains nod around; + Through all their summits tremble Ida's woods, + And from their sources boil her hundred floods. + Troy's turrets totter on the rocking plain, + And the toss'd navies beat the heaving main. + Deep in the dismal regions of the dead,(260) + The infernal monarch rear'd his horrid head, + Leap'd from his throne, lest Neptune's arm should lay + His dark dominions open to the day, + And pour in light on Pluto's drear abodes, + Abhorr'd by men, and dreadful even to gods.(261) + + [Illustration: THE GODS DESCENDING TO BATTLE.] + + THE GODS DESCENDING TO BATTLE. + + + Such war the immortals wage; such horrors rend + The world's vast concave, when the gods contend + First silver-shafted Phoebus took the plain + Against blue Neptune, monarch of the main. + The god of arms his giant bulk display'd, + Opposed to Pallas, war's triumphant maid. + Against Latona march'd the son of May. + The quiver'd Dian, sister of the day, + (Her golden arrows sounding at her side,) + Saturnia, majesty of heaven, defied. + With fiery Vulcan last in battle stands + The sacred flood that rolls on golden sands; + Xanthus his name with those of heavenly birth, + But called Scamander by the sons of earth. + + While thus the gods in various league engage, + Achilles glow'd with more than mortal rage: + Hector he sought; in search of Hector turn'd + His eyes around, for Hector only burn'd; + And burst like lightning through the ranks, and vow'd + To glut the god of battles with his blood. + + AEneas was the first who dared to stay; + Apollo wedged him in the warrior's way, + But swell'd his bosom with undaunted might, + Half-forced and half-persuaded to the fight. + Like young Lycaon, of the royal line, + In voice and aspect, seem'd the power divine; + And bade the chief reflect, how late with scorn + In distant threats he braved the goddess-born. + + Then thus the hero of Anchises' strain: + "To meet Pelides you persuade in vain: + Already have I met, nor void of fear + Observed the fury of his flying spear; + From Ida's woods he chased us to the field, + Our force he scattered, and our herds he kill'd; + Lyrnessus, Pedasus in ashes lay; + But (Jove assisting) I survived the day: + Else had I sunk oppress'd in fatal fight + By fierce Achilles and Minerva's might. + Where'er he moved, the goddess shone before, + And bathed his brazen lance in hostile gore. + What mortal man Achilles can sustain? + The immortals guard him through the dreadful plain, + And suffer not his dart to fall in vain. + Were God my aid, this arm should check his power, + Though strong in battle as a brazen tower." + + To whom the son of Jove: "That god implore, + And be what great Achilles was before. + From heavenly Venus thou deriv'st thy strain, + And he but from a sister of the main; + An aged sea-god father of his line; + But Jove himself the sacred source of thine. + Then lift thy weapon for a noble blow, + Nor fear the vaunting of a mortal foe." + + This said, and spirit breathed into his breast, + Through the thick troops the embolden'd hero press'd: + His venturous act the white-arm'd queen survey'd, + And thus, assembling all the powers, she said: + + "Behold an action, gods! that claims your care, + Lo great AEneas rushing to the war! + Against Pelides he directs his course, + Phoebus impels, and Phoebus gives him force. + Restrain his bold career; at least, to attend + Our favour'd hero, let some power descend. + To guard his life, and add to his renown, + We, the great armament of heaven, came down. + Hereafter let him fall, as Fates design, + That spun so short his life's illustrious line:(262) + But lest some adverse god now cross his way, + Give him to know what powers assist this day: + For how shall mortal stand the dire alarms, + When heaven's refulgent host appear in arms?"(263) + + Thus she; and thus the god whose force can make + The solid globe's eternal basis shake: + "Against the might of man, so feeble known, + Why should celestial powers exert their own? + Suffice from yonder mount to view the scene, + And leave to war the fates of mortal men. + But if the armipotent, or god of light, + Obstruct Achilles, or commence the fight. + Thence on the gods of Troy we swift descend: + Full soon, I doubt not, shall the conflict end; + And these, in ruin and confusion hurl'd, + Yield to our conquering arms the lower world." + + Thus having said, the tyrant of the sea, + Coerulean Neptune, rose, and led the way. + Advanced upon the field there stood a mound + Of earth congested, wall'd, and trench'd around; + In elder times to guard Alcides made, + (The work of Trojans, with Minerva's aid,) + What time a vengeful monster of the main + Swept the wide shore, and drove him to the plain. + + Here Neptune and the gods of Greece repair, + With clouds encompass'd, and a veil of air: + The adverse powers, around Apollo laid, + Crown the fair hills that silver Simois shade. + In circle close each heavenly party sat, + Intent to form the future scheme of fate; + But mix not yet in fight, though Jove on high + Gives the loud signal, and the heavens reply. + + Meanwhile the rushing armies hide the ground; + The trampled centre yields a hollow sound: + Steeds cased in mail, and chiefs in armour bright, + The gleaming champaign glows with brazen light. + Amid both hosts (a dreadful space) appear, + There great Achilles; bold AEneas, here. + With towering strides Aeneas first advanced; + The nodding plumage on his helmet danced: + Spread o'er his breast the fencing shield he bore, + And, so he moved, his javelin flamed before. + Not so Pelides; furious to engage, + He rush'd impetuous. Such the lion's rage, + Who viewing first his foes with scornful eyes, + Though all in arms the peopled city rise, + Stalks careless on, with unregarding pride; + Till at the length, by some brave youth defied, + To his bold spear the savage turns alone, + He murmurs fury with a hollow groan; + He grins, he foams, he rolls his eyes around + Lash'd by his tail his heaving sides resound; + He calls up all his rage; he grinds his teeth, + Resolved on vengeance, or resolved on death. + So fierce Achilles on AEneas flies; + So stands AEneas, and his force defies. + Ere yet the stern encounter join'd, begun + The seed of Thetis thus to Venus' son: + + "Why comes AEneas through the ranks so far? + Seeks he to meet Achilles' arm in war, + In hope the realms of Priam to enjoy, + And prove his merits to the throne of Troy? + Grant that beneath thy lance Achilles dies, + The partial monarch may refuse the prize; + Sons he has many; those thy pride may quell: + And 'tis his fault to love those sons too well, + Or, in reward of thy victorious hand, + Has Troy proposed some spacious tract of land + An ample forest, or a fair domain, + Of hills for vines, and arable for grain? + Even this, perhaps, will hardly prove thy lot. + But can Achilles be so soon forgot? + Once (as I think) you saw this brandish'd spear + And then the great AEneas seem'd to fear: + With hearty haste from Ida's mount he fled, + Nor, till he reach'd Lyrnessus, turn'd his head. + Her lofty walls not long our progress stay'd; + Those, Pallas, Jove, and we, in ruins laid: + In Grecian chains her captive race were cast; + 'Tis true, the great Aeneas fled too fast. + Defrauded of my conquest once before, + What then I lost, the gods this day restore. + Go; while thou may'st, avoid the threaten'd fate; + Fools stay to feel it, and are wise too late." + + To this Anchises' son: "Such words employ + To one that fears thee, some unwarlike boy; + Such we disdain; the best may be defied + With mean reproaches, and unmanly pride; + Unworthy the high race from which we came + Proclaim'd so loudly by the voice of fame: + Each from illustrious fathers draws his line; + Each goddess-born; half human, half divine. + Thetis' this day, or Venus' offspring dies, + And tears shall trickle from celestial eyes: + For when two heroes, thus derived, contend, + 'Tis not in words the glorious strife can end. + If yet thou further seek to learn my birth + (A tale resounded through the spacious earth) + Hear how the glorious origin we prove + From ancient Dardanus, the first from Jove: + Dardania's walls he raised; for Ilion, then, + (The city since of many-languaged men,) + Was not. The natives were content to till + The shady foot of Ida's fountful hill.(264) + From Dardanus great Erichthonius springs, + The richest, once, of Asia's wealthy kings; + Three thousand mares his spacious pastures bred, + Three thousand foals beside their mothers fed. + Boreas, enamour'd of the sprightly train, + Conceal'd his godhead in a flowing mane, + With voice dissembled to his loves he neigh'd, + And coursed the dappled beauties o'er the mead: + Hence sprung twelve others of unrivall'd kind, + Swift as their mother mares, and father wind. + These lightly skimming, when they swept the plain, + Nor plied the grass, nor bent the tender grain; + And when along the level seas they flew,(265) + Scarce on the surface curl'd the briny dew. + Such Erichthonius was: from him there came + The sacred Tros, of whom the Trojan name. + Three sons renown'd adorn'd his nuptial bed, + Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymed: + The matchless Ganymed, divinely fair, + Whom heaven, enamour'd, snatch'd to upper air, + To bear the cup of Jove (ethereal guest, + The grace and glory of the ambrosial feast). + The two remaining sons the line divide: + First rose Laomedon from Ilus' side; + From him Tithonus, now in cares grown old, + And Priam, bless'd with Hector, brave and bold; + Clytius and Lampus, ever-honour'd pair; + And Hicetaon, thunderbolt of war. + From great Assaracus sprang Capys, he + Begat Anchises, and Anchises me. + Such is our race: 'tis fortune gives us birth, + But Jove alone endues the soul with worth: + He, source of power and might! with boundless sway, + All human courage gives, or takes away. + Long in the field of words we may contend, + Reproach is infinite, and knows no end, + Arm'd or with truth or falsehood, right or wrong; + So voluble a weapon is the tongue; + Wounded, we wound; and neither side can fail, + For every man has equal strength to rail: + Women alone, when in the streets they jar, + Perhaps excel us in this wordy war; + Like us they stand, encompass'd with the crowd, + And vent their anger impotent and loud. + Cease then--Our business in the field of fight + Is not to question, but to prove our might. + To all those insults thou hast offer'd here, + Receive this answer: 'tis my flying spear." + + He spoke. With all his force the javelin flung, + Fix'd deep, and loudly in the buckler rung. + Far on his outstretch'd arm, Pelides held + (To meet the thundering lance) his dreadful shield, + That trembled as it stuck; nor void of fear + Saw, ere it fell, the immeasurable spear. + His fears were vain; impenetrable charms + Secured the temper of the ethereal arms. + Through two strong plates the point its passage held, + But stopp'd, and rested, by the third repell'd. + Five plates of various metal, various mould, + Composed the shield; of brass each outward fold, + Of tin each inward, and the middle gold: + There stuck the lance. Then rising ere he threw, + The forceful spear of great Achilles flew, + And pierced the Dardan shield's extremest bound, + Where the shrill brass return'd a sharper sound: + Through the thin verge the Pelean weapon glides, + And the slight covering of expanded hides. + AEneas his contracted body bends, + And o'er him high the riven targe extends, + Sees, through its parting plates, the upper air, + And at his back perceives the quivering spear: + A fate so near him, chills his soul with fright; + And swims before his eyes the many-colour'd light. + Achilles, rushing in with dreadful cries, + Draws his broad blade, and at AEneas flies: + AEneas rousing as the foe came on, + With force collected, heaves a mighty stone: + A mass enormous! which in modern days + No two of earth's degenerate sons could raise. + But ocean's god, whose earthquakes rock the ground. + Saw the distress, and moved the powers around: + + "Lo! on the brink of fate AEneas stands, + An instant victim to Achilles' hands; + By Phoebus urged; but Phoebus has bestow'd + His aid in vain: the man o'erpowers the god. + And can ye see this righteous chief atone + With guiltless blood for vices not his own? + To all the gods his constant vows were paid; + Sure, though he wars for Troy, he claims our aid. + Fate wills not this; nor thus can Jove resign + The future father of the Dardan line:(266) + The first great ancestor obtain'd his grace, + And still his love descends on all the race: + For Priam now, and Priam's faithless kind, + At length are odious to the all-seeing mind; + On great AEneas shall devolve the reign, + And sons succeeding sons the lasting line sustain." + + The great earth-shaker thus: to whom replies + The imperial goddess with the radiant eyes: + "Good as he is, to immolate or spare + The Dardan prince, O Neptune! be thy care; + Pallas and I, by all that gods can bind, + Have sworn destruction to the Trojan kind; + Not even an instant to protract their fate, + Or save one member of the sinking state; + Till her last flame be quench'd with her last gore, + And even her crumbling ruins are no more." + + The king of ocean to the fight descends, + Through all the whistling darts his course he bends, + Swift interposed between the warrior flies, + And casts thick darkness o'er Achilles' eyes.(267) + From great AEneas' shield the spear he drew, + And at his master's feet the weapon threw. + That done, with force divine he snatch'd on high + The Dardan prince, and bore him through the sky, + Smooth-gliding without step, above the heads + Of warring heroes, and of bounding steeds: + Till at the battle's utmost verge they light, + Where the slow Caucans close the rear of fight. + The godhead there (his heavenly form confess'd) + With words like these the panting chief address'd: + + "What power, O prince! with force inferior far, + Urged thee to meet Achilles' arm in war? + Henceforth beware, nor antedate thy doom, + Defrauding fate of all thy fame to come. + But when the day decreed (for come it must) + Shall lay this dreadful hero in the dust, + Let then the furies of that arm be known, + Secure no Grecian force transcends thy own." + + With that, he left him wondering as he lay, + Then from Achilles chased the mist away: + Sudden, returning with a stream of light, + The scene of war came rushing on his sight. + Then thus, amazed; "What wonders strike my mind! + My spear, that parted on the wings of wind, + Laid here before me! and the Dardan lord, + That fell this instant, vanish'd from my sword! + I thought alone with mortals to contend, + But powers celestial sure this foe defend. + Great as he is, our arms he scarce will try, + Content for once, with all his gods, to fly. + Now then let others bleed." This said, aloud + He vents his fury and inflames the crowd: + "O Greeks! (he cries, and every rank alarms) + Join battle, man to man, and arms to arms! + 'Tis not in me, though favour'd by the sky, + To mow whole troops, and make whole armies fly: + No god can singly such a host engage, + Not Mars himself, nor great Minerva's rage. + But whatsoe'er Achilles can inspire, + Whate'er of active force, or acting fire; + Whate'er this heart can prompt, or hand obey; + All, all Achilles, Greeks! is yours to-day. + Through yon wide host this arm shall scatter fear, + And thin the squadrons with my single spear." + + He said: nor less elate with martial joy, + The godlike Hector warm'd the troops of Troy: + "Trojans, to war! Think, Hector leads you on; + Nor dread the vaunts of Peleus' haughty son. + Deeds must decide our fate. E'en these with words + Insult the brave, who tremble at their swords: + The weakest atheist-wretch all heaven defies, + But shrinks and shudders when the thunder flies. + Nor from yon boaster shall your chief retire, + Not though his heart were steel, his hands were fire; + That fire, that steel, your Hector should withstand, + And brave that vengeful heart, that dreadful hand." + + Thus (breathing rage through all) the hero said; + A wood of lances rises round his head, + Clamours on clamours tempest all the air, + They join, they throng, they thicken to the war. + But Phoebus warns him from high heaven to shun + The single fight with Thetis' godlike son; + More safe to combat in the mingled band, + Nor tempt too near the terrors of his hand. + He hears, obedient to the god of light, + And, plunged within the ranks, awaits the fight. + + Then fierce Achilles, shouting to the skies, + On Troy's whole force with boundless fury flies. + First falls Iphytion, at his army's head; + Brave was the chief, and brave the host he led; + From great Otrynteus he derived his blood, + His mother was a Nais, of the flood; + Beneath the shades of Tmolus, crown'd with snow, + From Hyde's walls he ruled the lands below. + Fierce as he springs, the sword his head divides: + The parted visage falls on equal sides: + With loud-resounding arms he strikes the plain; + While thus Achilles glories o'er the slain: + + "Lie there, Otryntides! the Trojan earth + Receives thee dead, though Gygae boast thy birth; + Those beauteous fields where Hyllus' waves are roll'd, + And plenteous Hermus swells with tides of gold, + Are thine no more."--The insulting hero said, + And left him sleeping in eternal shade. + The rolling wheels of Greece the body tore, + And dash'd their axles with no vulgar gore. + + Demoleon next, Antenor's offspring, laid + Breathless in dust, the price of rashness paid. + The impatient steel with full-descending sway + Forced through his brazen helm its furious way, + Resistless drove the batter'd skull before, + And dash'd and mingled all the brains with gore. + This sees Hippodamas, and seized with fright, + Deserts his chariot for a swifter flight: + The lance arrests him: an ignoble wound + The panting Trojan rivets to the ground. + He groans away his soul: not louder roars, + At Neptune's shrine on Helice's high shores, + The victim bull; the rocks re-bellow round, + And ocean listens to the grateful sound. + Then fell on Polydore his vengeful rage,(268) + The youngest hope of Priam's stooping age: + (Whose feet for swiftness in the race surpass'd:) + Of all his sons, the dearest, and the last. + To the forbidden field he takes his flight, + In the first folly of a youthful knight, + To vaunt his swiftness wheels around the plain, + But vaunts not long, with all his swiftness slain: + Struck where the crossing belts unite behind, + And golden rings the double back-plate join'd + Forth through the navel burst the thrilling steel; + And on his knees with piercing shrieks he fell; + The rushing entrails pour'd upon the ground + His hands collect; and darkness wraps him round. + When Hector view'd, all ghastly in his gore, + Thus sadly slain the unhappy Polydore, + A cloud of sorrow overcast his sight, + His soul no longer brook'd the distant fight: + Full in Achilles' dreadful front he came, + And shook his javelin like a waving flame. + The son of Peleus sees, with joy possess'd, + His heart high-bounding in his rising breast. + "And, lo! the man on whom black fates attend; + The man, that slew Achilles, is his friend! + No more shall Hector's and Pelides' spear + Turn from each other in the walks of war."-- + Then with revengeful eyes he scann'd him o'er: + "Come, and receive thy fate!" He spake no more. + + Hector, undaunted, thus: "Such words employ + To one that dreads thee, some unwarlike boy: + Such we could give, defying and defied, + Mean intercourse of obloquy and pride! + I know thy force to mine superior far; + But heaven alone confers success in war: + Mean as I am, the gods may guide my dart, + And give it entrance in a braver heart." + + Then parts the lance: but Pallas' heavenly breath + Far from Achilles wafts the winged death: + The bidden dart again to Hector flies, + And at the feet of its great master lies. + Achilles closes with his hated foe, + His heart and eyes with flaming fury glow: + But present to his aid, Apollo shrouds + The favour'd hero in a veil of clouds. + Thrice struck Pelides with indignant heart, + Thrice in impassive air he plunged the dart; + The spear a fourth time buried in the cloud. + He foams with fury, and exclaims aloud: + + "Wretch! thou hast 'scaped again; once more thy flight + Has saved thee, and the partial god of light. + But long thou shalt not thy just fate withstand, + If any power assist Achilles' hand. + Fly then inglorious! but thy flight this day + Whole hecatombs of Trojan ghosts shall pay." + + With that, he gluts his rage on numbers slain: + Then Dryops tumbled to the ensanguined plain, + Pierced through the neck: he left him panting there, + And stopp'd Demuchus, great Philetor's heir. + Gigantic chief! deep gash'd the enormous blade, + And for the soul an ample passage made. + Laoganus and Dardanus expire, + The valiant sons of an unhappy sire; + Both in one instant from the chariot hurl'd, + Sunk in one instant to the nether world: + This difference only their sad fates afford + That one the spear destroy'd, and one the sword. + + Nor less unpitied, young Alastor bleeds; + In vain his youth, in vain his beauty pleads; + In vain he begs thee, with a suppliant's moan, + To spare a form, an age so like thy own! + Unhappy boy! no prayer, no moving art, + E'er bent that fierce, inexorable heart! + While yet he trembled at his knees, and cried, + The ruthless falchion oped his tender side; + The panting liver pours a flood of gore + That drowns his bosom till he pants no more. + + Through Mulius' head then drove the impetuous spear: + The warrior falls, transfix'd from ear to ear. + Thy life, Echeclus! next the sword bereaves, + Deep though the front the ponderous falchion cleaves; + Warm'd in the brain the smoking weapon lies, + The purple death comes floating o'er his eyes. + Then brave Deucalion died: the dart was flung + Where the knit nerves the pliant elbow strung; + He dropp'd his arm, an unassisting weight, + And stood all impotent, expecting fate: + Full on his neck the falling falchion sped, + From his broad shoulders hew'd his crested head: + Forth from the bone the spinal marrow flies, + And, sunk in dust, the corpse extended lies. + Rhigmas, whose race from fruitful Thracia came, + (The son of Pierus, an illustrious name,) + Succeeds to fate: the spear his belly rends; + Prone from his car the thundering chief descends. + The squire, who saw expiring on the ground + His prostrate master, rein'd the steeds around; + His back, scarce turn'd, the Pelian javelin gored, + And stretch'd the servant o'er his dying lord. + As when a flame the winding valley fills, + And runs on crackling shrubs between the hills; + Then o'er the stubble up the mountain flies, + Fires the high woods, and blazes to the skies, + This way and that, the spreading torrent roars: + So sweeps the hero through the wasted shores; + Around him wide, immense destruction pours + And earth is deluged with the sanguine showers + As with autumnal harvests cover'd o'er, + And thick bestrewn, lies Ceres' sacred floor; + When round and round, with never-wearied pain, + The trampling steers beat out the unnumber'd grain: + So the fierce coursers, as the chariot rolls, + Tread down whole ranks, and crush out heroes' souls, + Dash'd from their hoofs while o'er the dead they fly, + Black, bloody drops the smoking chariot dye: + The spiky wheels through heaps of carnage tore; + And thick the groaning axles dropp'd with gore. + High o'er the scene of death Achilles stood, + All grim with dust, all horrible in blood: + Yet still insatiate, still with rage on flame; + Such is the lust of never-dying fame! + + [Illustration: CENTAUR.] + + CENTAUR. + + + + + +BOOK XXI. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE BATTLE IN THE RIVER SCAMANDER.(269) + +The Trojans fly before Achilles, some towards the town, others to the +river Scamander: he falls upon the latter with great slaughter: takes +twelve captives alive, to sacrifice to the shade of Patroclus; and kills +Lycaon and Asteropeus. Scamander attacks him with all his waves: Neptune +and Pallas assist the hero: Simois joins Scamander: at length Vulcan, by +the instigation of Juno, almost dries up the river. This Combat ended, the +other gods engage each other. Meanwhile Achilles continues the slaughter, +drives the rest into Troy: Agenor only makes a stand, and is conveyed away +in a cloud by Apollo; who (to delude Achilles) takes upon him Agenor's +shape, and while he pursues him in that disguise, gives the Trojans an +opportunity of retiring into their city. + +The same day continues. The scene is on the banks and in the stream of +Scamander. + + And now to Xanthus' gliding stream they drove, + Xanthus, immortal progeny of Jove. + The river here divides the flying train, + Part to the town fly diverse o'er the plain, + Where late their troops triumphant bore the fight, + Now chased, and trembling in ignoble flight: + (These with a gathered mist Saturnia shrouds, + And rolls behind the rout a heap of clouds:) + Part plunge into the stream: old Xanthus roars, + The flashing billows beat the whiten'd shores: + With cries promiscuous all the banks resound, + And here, and there, in eddies whirling round, + The flouncing steeds and shrieking warriors drown'd. + As the scorch'd locusts from their fields retire, + While fast behind them runs the blaze of fire; + Driven from the land before the smoky cloud, + The clustering legions rush into the flood: + So, plunged in Xanthus by Achilles' force, + Roars the resounding surge with men and horse. + His bloody lance the hero casts aside, + (Which spreading tamarisks on the margin hide,) + Then, like a god, the rapid billows braves, + Arm'd with his sword, high brandish'd o'er the waves: + Now down he plunges, now he whirls it round, + Deep groan'd the waters with the dying sound; + Repeated wounds the reddening river dyed, + And the warm purple circled on the tide. + Swift through the foamy flood the Trojans fly, + And close in rocks or winding caverns lie: + So the huge dolphin tempesting the main, + In shoals before him fly the scaly train, + Confusedly heap'd they seek their inmost caves, + Or pant and heave beneath the floating waves. + Now, tired with slaughter, from the Trojan band + Twelve chosen youths he drags alive to land; + With their rich belts their captive arms restrains + (Late their proud ornaments, but now their chains). + These his attendants to the ships convey'd, + Sad victims destined to Patroclus' shade; + + Then, as once more he plunged amid the flood, + The young Lycaon in his passage stood; + The son of Priam; whom the hero's hand + But late made captive in his father's land + (As from a sycamore, his sounding steel + Lopp'd the green arms to spoke a chariot wheel) + To Lemnos' isle he sold the royal slave, + Where Jason's son the price demanded gave; + But kind Eetion, touching on the shore, + The ransom'd prince to fair Arisbe bore. + Ten days were past, since in his father's reign + He felt the sweets of liberty again; + The next, that god whom men in vain withstand + Gives the same youth to the same conquering hand + Now never to return! and doom'd to go + A sadder journey to the shades below. + His well-known face when great Achilles eyed, + (The helm and visor he had cast aside + With wild affright, and dropp'd upon the field + His useless lance and unavailing shield,) + As trembling, panting, from the stream he fled, + And knock'd his faltering knees, the hero said. + "Ye mighty gods! what wonders strike my view! + Is it in vain our conquering arms subdue? + Sure I shall see yon heaps of Trojans kill'd + Rise from the shades, and brave me on the field; + As now the captive, whom so late I bound + And sold to Lemnos, stalks on Trojan ground! + Not him the sea's unmeasured deeps detain, + That bar such numbers from their native plain; + Lo! he returns. Try, then, my flying spear! + Try, if the grave can hold the wanderer; + If earth, at length this active prince can seize, + Earth, whose strong grasp has held down Hercules." + + Thus while he spoke, the Trojan pale with fears + Approach'd, and sought his knees with suppliant tears + Loth as he was to yield his youthful breath, + And his soul shivering at the approach of death. + Achilles raised the spear, prepared to wound; + He kiss'd his feet, extended on the ground: + And while, above, the spear suspended stood, + Longing to dip its thirsty point in blood, + One hand embraced them close, one stopp'd the dart, + While thus these melting words attempt his heart: + + "Thy well-known captive, great Achilles! see, + Once more Lycaon trembles at thy knee. + Some pity to a suppliant's name afford, + Who shared the gifts of Ceres at thy board; + Whom late thy conquering arm to Lemnos bore, + Far from his father, friends, and native shore; + A hundred oxen were his price that day, + Now sums immense thy mercy shall repay. + Scarce respited from woes I yet appear, + And scarce twelve morning suns have seen me here; + Lo! Jove again submits me to thy hands, + Again, her victim cruel Fate demands! + I sprang from Priam, and Laothoe fair, + (Old Altes' daughter, and Lelegia's heir; + Who held in Pedasus his famed abode, + And ruled the fields where silver Satnio flow'd,) + Two sons (alas! unhappy sons) she bore; + For ah! one spear shall drink each brother's gore, + And I succeed to slaughter'd Polydore. + How from that arm of terror shall I fly? + Some demon urges! 'tis my doom to die! + If ever yet soft pity touch'd thy mind, + Ah! think not me too much of Hector's kind! + Not the same mother gave thy suppliant breath, + With his, who wrought thy loved Patroclus' death." + + These words, attended with a shower of tears, + The youth address'd to unrelenting ears: + "Talk not of life, or ransom (he replies): + Patroclus dead, whoever meets me, dies: + In vain a single Trojan sues for grace; + But least, the sons of Priam's hateful race. + Die then, my friend! what boots it to deplore? + The great, the good Patroclus is no more! + He, far thy better, was foredoom'd to die, + And thou, dost thou bewail mortality? + Seest thou not me, whom nature's gifts adorn, + Sprung from a hero, from a goddess born? + The day shall come (which nothing can avert) + When by the spear, the arrow, or the dart, + By night, or day, by force, or by design, + Impending death and certain fate are mine! + Die then,"--He said; and as the word he spoke, + The fainting stripling sank before the stroke: + His hand forgot its grasp, and left the spear, + While all his trembling frame confess'd his fear: + Sudden, Achilles his broad sword display'd, + And buried in his neck the reeking blade. + Prone fell the youth; and panting on the land, + The gushing purple dyed the thirsty sand. + The victor to the stream the carcase gave, + And thus insults him, floating on the wave: + + "Lie there, Lycaon! let the fish surround + Thy bloated corpse, and suck thy gory wound: + There no sad mother shall thy funerals weep, + But swift Scamander roll thee to the deep, + Whose every wave some watery monster brings, + To feast unpunish'd on the fat of kings. + So perish Troy, and all the Trojan line! + Such ruin theirs, and such compassion mine. + What boots ye now Scamander's worshipp'd stream, + His earthly honours, and immortal name? + In vain your immolated bulls are slain, + Your living coursers glut his gulfs in vain! + Thus he rewards you, with this bitter fate; + Thus, till the Grecian vengeance is complete: + Thus is atoned Patroclus' honour'd shade, + And the short absence of Achilles paid." + + These boastful words provoked the raging god; + With fury swells the violated flood. + What means divine may yet the power employ + To check Achilles, and to rescue Troy? + Meanwhile the hero springs in arms, to dare + The great Asteropeus to mortal war; + The son of Pelagon, whose lofty line + Flows from the source of Axius, stream divine! + (Fair Peribaea's love the god had crown'd, + With all his refluent waters circled round:) + On him Achilles rush'd; he fearless stood, + And shook two spears, advancing from the flood; + The flood impell'd him, on Pelides' head + To avenge his waters choked with heaps of dead. + Near as they drew, Achilles thus began: + + "What art thou, boldest of the race of man? + Who, or from whence? Unhappy is the sire + Whose son encounters our resistless ire." + + "O son of Peleus! what avails to trace + (Replied the warrior) our illustrious race? + From rich Paeonia's valleys I command, + Arm'd with protended spears, my native band; + Now shines the tenth bright morning since I came + In aid of Ilion to the fields of fame: + Axius, who swells with all the neighbouring rills, + And wide around the floated region fills, + Begot my sire, whose spear much glory won: + Now lift thy arm, and try that hero's son!" + + Threatening he said: the hostile chiefs advance; + At once Asteropeus discharged each lance, + (For both his dexterous hands the lance could wield,) + One struck, but pierced not, the Vulcanian shield; + One razed Achilles' hand; the spouting blood + Spun forth; in earth the fasten'd weapon stood. + Like lightning next the Pelean javelin flies: + Its erring fury hiss'd along the skies; + Deep in the swelling bank was driven the spear, + Even to the middle earth; and quiver'd there. + Then from his side the sword Pelides drew, + And on his foe with double fury flew. + The foe thrice tugg'd, and shook the rooted wood; + Repulsive of his might the weapon stood: + The fourth, he tries to break the spear in vain; + Bent as he stands, he tumbles to the plain; + His belly open'd with a ghastly wound, + The reeking entrails pour upon the ground. + Beneath the hero's feet he panting lies, + And his eye darkens, and his spirit flies; + While the proud victor thus triumphing said, + His radiant armour tearing from the dead: + + "So ends thy glory! Such the fate they prove, + Who strive presumptuous with the sons of Jove! + Sprung from a river, didst thou boast thy line? + But great Saturnius is the source of mine. + How durst thou vaunt thy watery progeny? + Of Peleus, AEacus, and Jove, am I. + The race of these superior far to those, + As he that thunders to the stream that flows. + What rivers can, Scamander might have shown; + But Jove he dreads, nor wars against his son. + Even Achelous might contend in vain, + And all the roaring billows of the main. + The eternal ocean, from whose fountains flow + The seas, the rivers, and the springs below, + The thundering voice of Jove abhors to hear, + And in his deep abysses shakes with fear." + + He said: then from the bank his javelin tore, + And left the breathless warrior in his gore. + The floating tides the bloody carcase lave, + And beat against it, wave succeeding wave; + Till, roll'd between the banks, it lies the food + Of curling eels, and fishes of the flood. + All scatter'd round the stream (their mightiest slain) + The amazed Paeonians scour along the plain; + He vents his fury on the flying crew, + Thrasius, Astyplus, and Mnesus slew; + Mydon, Thersilochus, with AEnius, fell; + And numbers more his lance had plunged to hell, + But from the bottom of his gulfs profound + Scamander spoke; the shores return'd the sound. + + "O first of mortals! (for the gods are thine) + In valour matchless, and in force divine! + If Jove have given thee every Trojan head, + 'Tis not on me thy rage should heap the dead. + See! my choked streams no more their course can keep, + Nor roll their wonted tribute to the deep. + Turn then, impetuous! from our injured flood; + Content, thy slaughters could amaze a god." + + In human form, confess'd before his eyes, + The river thus; and thus the chief replies: + "O sacred stream! thy word we shall obey; + But not till Troy the destined vengeance pay, + Not till within her towers the perjured train + Shall pant, and tremble at our arms again; + Not till proud Hector, guardian of her wall, + Or stain this lance, or see Achilles fall." + + He said; and drove with fury on the foe. + Then to the godhead of the silver bow + The yellow flood began: "O son of Jove! + Was not the mandate of the sire above + Full and express, that Phoebus should employ + His sacred arrows in defence of Troy, + And make her conquer, till Hyperion's fall + In awful darkness hide the face of all?" + + He spoke in vain--The chief without dismay + Ploughs through the boiling surge his desperate way. + Then rising in his rage above the shores, + From all his deep the bellowing river roars, + Huge heaps of slain disgorges on the coast, + And round the banks the ghastly dead are toss'd. + While all before, the billows ranged on high, + (A watery bulwark,) screen the bands who fly. + Now bursting on his head with thundering sound, + The falling deluge whelms the hero round: + His loaded shield bends to the rushing tide; + His feet, upborne, scarce the strong flood divide, + Sliddering, and staggering. On the border stood + A spreading elm, that overhung the flood; + He seized a bending bough, his steps to stay; + The plant uprooted to his weight gave way.(270) + Heaving the bank, and undermining all; + Loud flash the waters to the rushing fall + Of the thick foliage. The large trunk display'd + Bridged the rough flood across: the hero stay'd + On this his weight, and raised upon his hand, + Leap'd from the channel, and regain'd the land. + Then blacken'd the wild waves: the murmur rose: + The god pursues, a huger billow throws, + And bursts the bank, ambitious to destroy + The man whose fury is the fate of Troy. + He like the warlike eagle speeds his pace + (Swiftest and strongest of the aerial race); + Far as a spear can fly, Achilles springs; + At every bound his clanging armour rings: + Now here, now there, he turns on every side, + And winds his course before the following tide; + The waves flow after, wheresoe'er he wheels, + And gather fast, and murmur at his heels. + So when a peasant to his garden brings + Soft rills of water from the bubbling springs, + And calls the floods from high, to bless his bowers, + And feed with pregnant streams the plants and flowers: + Soon as he clears whate'er their passage stay'd, + And marks the future current with his spade, + Swift o'er the rolling pebbles, down the hills, + Louder and louder purl the falling rills; + Before him scattering, they prevent his pains, + And shine in mazy wanderings o'er the plains. + + Still flies Achilles, but before his eyes + Still swift Scamander rolls where'er he flies: + Not all his speed escapes the rapid floods; + The first of men, but not a match for gods. + Oft as he turn'd the torrent to oppose, + And bravely try if all the powers were foes; + So oft the surge, in watery mountains spread, + Beats on his back, or bursts upon his head. + Yet dauntless still the adverse flood he braves, + And still indignant bounds above the waves. + Tired by the tides, his knees relax with toil; + Wash'd from beneath him slides the slimy soil; + When thus (his eyes on heaven's expansion thrown) + Forth bursts the hero with an angry groan: + + "Is there no god Achilles to befriend, + No power to avert his miserable end? + Prevent, O Jove! this ignominious date,(271) + And make my future life the sport of fate. + Of all heaven's oracles believed in vain, + But most of Thetis must her son complain; + By Phoebus' darts she prophesied my fall, + In glorious arms before the Trojan wall. + Oh! had I died in fields of battle warm, + Stretch'd like a hero, by a hero's arm! + Might Hector's spear this dauntless bosom rend, + And my swift soul o'ertake my slaughter'd friend. + Ah no! Achilles meets a shameful fate, + Oh how unworthy of the brave and great! + Like some vile swain, whom on a rainy day, + Crossing a ford, the torrent sweeps away, + An unregarded carcase to the sea." + + Neptune and Pallas haste to his relief, + And thus in human form address'd the chief: + The power of ocean first: "Forbear thy fear, + O son of Peleus! Lo, thy gods appear! + Behold! from Jove descending to thy aid, + Propitious Neptune, and the blue-eyed maid. + Stay, and the furious flood shall cease to rave + 'Tis not thy fate to glut his angry wave. + But thou, the counsel heaven suggests, attend! + Nor breathe from combat, nor thy sword suspend, + Till Troy receive her flying sons, till all + Her routed squadrons pant behind their wall: + Hector alone shall stand his fatal chance, + And Hector's blood shall smoke upon thy lance. + Thine is the glory doom'd." Thus spake the gods: + Then swift ascended to the bright abodes. + + Stung with new ardour, thus by heaven impell'd, + He springs impetuous, and invades the field: + O'er all the expanded plain the waters spread; + Heaved on the bounding billows danced the dead, + Floating 'midst scatter'd arms; while casques of gold + And turn'd-up bucklers glitter'd as they roll'd. + High o'er the surging tide, by leaps and bounds, + He wades, and mounts; the parted wave resounds. + Not a whole river stops the hero's course, + While Pallas fills him with immortal force. + With equal rage, indignant Xanthus roars, + And lifts his billows, and o'erwhelms his shores. + + Then thus to Simois! "Haste, my brother flood; + And check this mortal that controls a god; + Our bravest heroes else shall quit the fight, + And Ilion tumble from her towery height. + Call then thy subject streams, and bid them roar, + From all thy fountains swell thy watery store, + With broken rocks, and with a load of dead, + Charge the black surge, and pour it on his head. + Mark how resistless through the floods he goes, + And boldly bids the warring gods be foes! + But nor that force, nor form divine to sight, + Shall aught avail him, if our rage unite: + Whelm'd under our dark gulfs those arms shall lie, + That blaze so dreadful in each Trojan eye; + And deep beneath a sandy mountain hurl'd, + Immersed remain this terror of the world. + Such ponderous ruin shall confound the place, + No Greeks shall e'er his perish'd relics grace, + No hand his bones shall gather, or inhume; + These his cold rites, and this his watery tomb." + + [Illustration: ACHILLES CONTENDING WITH THE RIVERS.] + + ACHILLES CONTENDING WITH THE RIVERS. + + + He said; and on the chief descends amain, + Increased with gore, and swelling with the slain. + Then, murmuring from his beds, he boils, he raves, + And a foam whitens on the purple waves: + At every step, before Achilles stood + The crimson surge, and deluged him with blood. + Fear touch'd the queen of heaven: she saw dismay'd, + She call'd aloud, and summon'd Vulcan's aid. + + "Rise to the war! the insulting flood requires + Thy wasteful arm! assemble all thy fires! + While to their aid, by our command enjoin'd, + Rush the swift eastern and the western wind: + These from old ocean at my word shall blow, + Pour the red torrent on the watery foe, + Corses and arms to one bright ruin turn, + And hissing rivers to their bottoms burn. + Go, mighty in thy rage! display thy power, + Drink the whole flood, the crackling trees devour. + Scorch all the banks! and (till our voice reclaim) + Exert the unwearied furies of the flame!" + + The power ignipotent her word obeys: + Wide o'er the plain he pours the boundless blaze; + At once consumes the dead, and dries the soil + And the shrunk waters in their channel boil. + As when autumnal Boreas sweeps the sky, + And instant blows the water'd gardens dry: + So look'd the field, so whiten'd was the ground, + While Vulcan breathed the fiery blast around. + Swift on the sedgy reeds the ruin preys; + Along the margin winds the running blaze: + The trees in flaming rows to ashes turn, + The flowering lotos and the tamarisk burn, + Broad elm, and cypress rising in a spire; + The watery willows hiss before the fire. + Now glow the waves, the fishes pant for breath, + The eels lie twisting in the pangs of death: + Now flounce aloft, now dive the scaly fry, + Or, gasping, turn their bellies to the sky. + At length the river rear'd his languid head, + And thus, short-panting, to the god he said: + + "Oh Vulcan! oh! what power resists thy might? + I faint, I sink, unequal to the fight-- + I yield--Let Ilion fall; if fate decree-- + Ah--bend no more thy fiery arms on me!" + + He ceased; wide conflagration blazing round; + The bubbling waters yield a hissing sound. + As when the flames beneath a cauldron rise,(272) + To melt the fat of some rich sacrifice, + Amid the fierce embrace of circling fires + The waters foam, the heavy smoke aspires: + So boils the imprison'd flood, forbid to flow, + And choked with vapours feels his bottom glow. + To Juno then, imperial queen of air, + The burning river sends his earnest prayer: + + "Ah why, Saturnia; must thy son engage + Me, only me, with all his wasteful rage? + On other gods his dreadful arm employ, + For mightier gods assert the cause of Troy. + Submissive I desist, if thou command; + But ah! withdraw this all-destroying hand. + Hear then my solemn oath, to yield to fate + Unaided Ilion, and her destined state, + Till Greece shall gird her with destructive flame, + And in one ruin sink the Trojan name." + + His warm entreaty touch'd Saturnia's ear: + She bade the ignipotent his rage forbear, + Recall the flame, nor in a mortal cause + Infest a god: the obedient flame withdraws: + Again the branching streams begin to spread, + And soft remurmur in their wonted bed. + + While these by Juno's will the strife resign, + The warring gods in fierce contention join: + Rekindling rage each heavenly breast alarms: + With horrid clangour shock the ethereal arms: + Heaven in loud thunder bids the trumpet sound; + And wide beneath them groans the rending ground. + Jove, as his sport, the dreadful scene descries, + And views contending gods with careless eyes. + The power of battles lifts his brazen spear, + And first assaults the radiant queen of war: + + "What moved thy madness, thus to disunite + Ethereal minds, and mix all heaven in fight? + What wonder this, when in thy frantic mood + Thou drovest a mortal to insult a god? + Thy impious hand Tydides' javelin bore, + And madly bathed it in celestial gore." + + He spoke, and smote the long-resounding shield, + Which bears Jove's thunder on its dreadful field: + The adamantine aegis of her sire, + That turns the glancing bolt and forked fire. + + Then heaved the goddess in her mighty hand + A stone, the limit of the neighbouring land, + There fix'd from eldest times; black, craggy, vast; + This at the heavenly homicide she cast. + Thundering he falls, a mass of monstrous size: + And seven broad acres covers as he lies. + The stunning stroke his stubborn nerves unbound: + Loud o'er the fields his ringing arms resound: + The scornful dame her conquest views with smiles, + And, glorying, thus the prostrate god reviles: + + "Hast thou not yet, insatiate fury! known + How far Minerva's force transcends thy own? + Juno, whom thou rebellious darest withstand, + Corrects thy folly thus by Pallas' hand; + Thus meets thy broken faith with just disgrace, + And partial aid to Troy's perfidious race." + + The goddess spoke, and turn'd her eyes away, + That, beaming round, diffused celestial day. + Jove's Cyprian daughter, stooping on the land, + Lent to the wounded god her tender hand: + Slowly he rises, scarcely breathes with pain, + And, propp'd on her fair arm, forsakes the plain. + This the bright empress of the heavens survey'd, + And, scoffing, thus to war's victorious maid: + + "Lo! what an aid on Mars's side is seen! + The smiles' and loves' unconquerable queen! + Mark with what insolence, in open view, + She moves: let Pallas, if she dares, pursue." + + Minerva smiling heard, the pair o'ertook, + And slightly on her breast the wanton strook: + She, unresisting, fell (her spirits fled); + On earth together lay the lovers spread. + "And like these heroes be the fate of all + (Minerva cries) who guard the Trojan wall! + To Grecian gods such let the Phrygian be, + So dread, so fierce, as Venus is to me; + Then from the lowest stone shall Troy be moved." + Thus she, and Juno with a smile approved. + + Meantime, to mix in more than mortal fight, + The god of ocean dares the god of light. + "What sloth has seized us, when the fields around + Ring with conflicting powers, and heaven returns the sound: + Shall, ignominious, we with shame retire, + No deed perform'd, to our Olympian sire? + Come, prove thy arm! for first the war to wage, + Suits not my greatness, or superior age: + Rash as thou art to prop the Trojan throne, + (Forgetful of my wrongs, and of thy own,) + And guard the race of proud Laomedon! + Hast thou forgot, how, at the monarch's prayer, + We shared the lengthen'd labours of a year? + Troy walls I raised (for such were Jove's commands), + And yon proud bulwarks grew beneath my hands: + Thy task it was to feed the bellowing droves + Along fair Ida's vales and pendant groves. + But when the circling seasons in their train + Brought back the grateful day that crown'd our pain, + With menace stern the fraudful king defied + Our latent godhead, and the prize denied: + Mad as he was, he threaten'd servile bands, + And doom'd us exiles far in barbarous lands.(273) + Incensed, we heavenward fled with swiftest wing, + And destined vengeance on the perjured king. + Dost thou, for this, afford proud Ilion grace, + And not, like us, infest the faithless race; + Like us, their present, future sons destroy, + And from its deep foundations heave their Troy?" + + Apollo thus: "To combat for mankind + Ill suits the wisdom of celestial mind; + For what is man? Calamitous by birth, + They owe their life and nourishment to earth; + Like yearly leaves, that now, with beauty crown'd, + Smile on the sun; now, wither on the ground. + To their own hands commit the frantic scene, + Nor mix immortals in a cause so mean." + + Then turns his face, far-beaming heavenly fires, + And from the senior power submiss retires: + Him thus retreating, Artemis upbraids, + The quiver'd huntress of the sylvan shades: + + "And is it thus the youthful Phoebus flies, + And yields to ocean's hoary sire the prize? + How vain that martial pomp, and dreadful show + Of pointed arrows and the silver bow! + Now boast no more in yon celestial bower, + Thy force can match the great earth-shaking power." + + Silent he heard the queen of woods upbraid: + Not so Saturnia bore the vaunting maid: + But furious thus: "What insolence has driven + Thy pride to face the majesty of heaven? + What though by Jove the female plague design'd, + Fierce to the feeble race of womankind, + The wretched matron feels thy piercing dart; + Thy sex's tyrant, with a tiger's heart? + What though tremendous in the woodland chase + Thy certain arrows pierce the savage race? + How dares thy rashness on the powers divine + Employ those arms, or match thy force with mine? + Learn hence, no more unequal war to wage--" + She said, and seized her wrists with eager rage; + These in her left hand lock'd, her right untied + The bow, the quiver, and its plumy pride. + About her temples flies the busy bow; + Now here, now there, she winds her from the blow; + The scattering arrows, rattling from the case, + Drop round, and idly mark the dusty place. + Swift from the field the baffled huntress flies, + And scarce restrains the torrent in her eyes: + So, when the falcon wings her way above, + To the cleft cavern speeds the gentle dove; + (Not fated yet to die;) there safe retreats, + Yet still her heart against the marble beats. + + To her Latona hastes with tender care; + Whom Hermes viewing, thus declines the war: + "How shall I face the dame, who gives delight + To him whose thunders blacken heaven with night? + Go, matchless goddess! triumph in the skies, + And boast my conquest, while I yield the prize." + + He spoke; and pass'd: Latona, stooping low, + Collects the scatter'd shafts and fallen bow, + That, glittering on the dust, lay here and there + Dishonour'd relics of Diana's war: + Then swift pursued her to her blest abode, + Where, all confused, she sought the sovereign god; + Weeping, she grasp'd his knees: the ambrosial vest + Shook with her sighs, and panted on her breast. + + The sire superior smiled, and bade her show + What heavenly hand had caused his daughter's woe? + Abash'd, she names his own imperial spouse; + And the pale crescent fades upon her brows. + + Thus they above: while, swiftly gliding down, + Apollo enters Ilion's sacred town; + The guardian-god now trembled for her wall, + And fear'd the Greeks, though fate forbade her fall. + Back to Olympus, from the war's alarms, + Return the shining bands of gods in arms; + Some proud in triumph, some with rage on fire; + And take their thrones around the ethereal sire. + + Through blood, through death, Achilles still proceeds, + O'er slaughter'd heroes, and o'er rolling steeds. + As when avenging flames with fury driven + On guilty towns exert the wrath of heaven; + The pale inhabitants, some fall, some fly; + And the red vapours purple all the sky: + So raged Achilles: death and dire dismay, + And toils, and terrors, fill'd the dreadful day. + + High on a turret hoary Priam stands, + And marks the waste of his destructive hands; + Views, from his arm, the Trojans' scatter'd flight, + And the near hero rising on his sight! + No stop, no check, no aid! With feeble pace, + And settled sorrow on his aged face, + Fast as he could, he sighing quits the walls; + And thus descending, on the guards he calls: + + "You to whose care our city-gates belong, + Set wide your portals to the flying throng: + For lo! he comes, with unresisted sway; + He comes, and desolation marks his way! + But when within the walls our troops take breath, + Lock fast the brazen bars, and shut out death." + Thus charged the reverend monarch: wide were flung + The opening folds; the sounding hinges rung. + Phoebus rush'd forth, the flying bands to meet; + Struck slaughter back, and cover'd the retreat, + On heaps the Trojans crowd to gain the gate, + And gladsome see their last escape from fate. + Thither, all parch'd with thirst, a heartless train, + Hoary with dust, they beat the hollow plain: + And gasping, panting, fainting, labour on + With heavier strides, that lengthen toward the town. + Enraged Achilles follows with his spear; + Wild with revenge, insatiable of war. + + Then had the Greeks eternal praise acquired, + And Troy inglorious to her walls retired; + But he, the god who darts ethereal flame, + Shot down to save her, and redeem her fame: + To young Agenor force divine he gave; + (Antenor's offspring, haughty, bold, and brave;) + In aid of him, beside the beech he sate, + And wrapt in clouds, restrain'd the hand of fate. + When now the generous youth Achilles spies. + Thick beats his heart, the troubled motions rise. + (So, ere a storm, the waters heave and roll.) + He stops, and questions thus his mighty soul; + + "What, shall I fly this terror of the plain! + Like others fly, and be like others slain? + Vain hope! to shun him by the self-same road + Yon line of slaughter'd Trojans lately trod. + No: with the common heap I scorn to fall-- + What if they pass'd me to the Trojan wall, + While I decline to yonder path, that leads + To Ida's forests and surrounding shades? + So may I reach, conceal'd, the cooling flood, + From my tired body wash the dirt and blood, + As soon as night her dusky veil extends, + Return in safety to my Trojan friends. + What if?--But wherefore all this vain debate? + Stand I to doubt, within the reach of fate? + Even now perhaps, ere yet I turn the wall, + The fierce Achilles sees me, and I fall: + Such is his swiftness, 'tis in vain to fly, + And such his valour, that who stands must die. + Howe'er 'tis better, fighting for the state, + Here, and in public view, to meet my fate. + Yet sure he too is mortal; he may feel + (Like all the sons of earth) the force of steel. + One only soul informs that dreadful frame: + And Jove's sole favour gives him all his fame." + + He said, and stood, collected, in his might; + And all his beating bosom claim'd the fight. + So from some deep-grown wood a panther starts, + Roused from his thicket by a storm of darts: + Untaught to fear or fly, he hears the sounds + Of shouting hunters, and of clamorous hounds; + Though struck, though wounded, scarce perceives the pain; + And the barb'd javelin stings his breast in vain: + On their whole war, untamed, the savage flies; + And tears his hunter, or beneath him dies. + Not less resolved, Antenor's valiant heir + Confronts Achilles, and awaits the war, + Disdainful of retreat: high held before, + His shield (a broad circumference) he bore; + Then graceful as he stood, in act to throw + The lifted javelin, thus bespoke the foe: + + "How proud Achilles glories in his fame! + And hopes this day to sink the Trojan name + Beneath her ruins! Know, that hope is vain; + A thousand woes, a thousand toils remain. + Parents and children our just arms employ, + And strong and many are the sons of Troy. + Great as thou art, even thou may'st stain with gore + These Phrygian fields, and press a foreign shore." + + He said: with matchless force the javelin flung + Smote on his knee; the hollow cuishes rung + Beneath the pointed steel; but safe from harms + He stands impassive in the ethereal arms. + Then fiercely rushing on the daring foe, + His lifted arm prepares the fatal blow: + But, jealous of his fame, Apollo shrouds + The god-like Trojan in a veil of clouds. + Safe from pursuit, and shut from mortal view, + Dismiss'd with fame, the favoured youth withdrew. + Meanwhile the god, to cover their escape, + Assumes Agenor's habit, voice and shape, + Flies from the furious chief in this disguise; + The furious chief still follows where he flies. + Now o'er the fields they stretch with lengthen'd strides, + Now urge the course where swift Scamander glides: + The god, now distant scarce a stride before, + Tempts his pursuit, and wheels about the shore; + While all the flying troops their speed employ, + And pour on heaps into the walls of Troy: + No stop, no stay; no thought to ask, or tell, + Who 'scaped by flight, or who by battle fell. + 'Twas tumult all, and violence of flight; + And sudden joy confused, and mix'd affright. + Pale Troy against Achilles shuts her gate: + And nations breathe, deliver'd from their fate. + + + + + +BOOK XXII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE DEATH OF HECTOR. + +The Trojans being safe within the walls, Hector only stays to oppose +Achilles. Priam is struck at his approach, and tries to persuade his son +to re-enter the town. Hecuba joins her entreaties, but in vain. Hector +consults within himself what measures to take; but at the advance of +Achilles, his resolution fails him, and he flies. Achilles pursues him +thrice round the walls of Troy. The gods debate concerning the fate of +Hector; at length Minerva descends to the aid of Achilles. She deludes +Hector in the shape of Deiphobus; he stands the combat, and is slain. +Achilles drags the dead body at his chariot in the sight of Priam and +Hecuba. Their lamentations, tears, and despair. Their cries reach the ears +of Andromache, who, ignorant of this, was retired into the inner part of +the palace: she mounts up to the walls, and beholds her dead husband. She +swoons at the spectacle. Her excess of grief and lamentation. + +The thirtieth day still continues. The scene lies under the walls, and on +the battlements of Troy. + + Thus to their bulwarks, smit with panic fear, + The herded Ilians rush like driven deer: + There safe they wipe the briny drops away, + And drown in bowls the labours of the day. + Close to the walls, advancing o'er the fields + Beneath one roof of well-compacted shields, + March, bending on, the Greeks' embodied powers, + Far stretching in the shade of Trojan towers. + Great Hector singly stay'd: chain'd down by fate + There fix'd he stood before the Scaean gate; + Still his bold arms determined to employ, + The guardian still of long-defended Troy. + + Apollo now to tired Achilles turns: + (The power confess'd in all his glory burns:) + "And what (he cries) has Peleus' son in view, + With mortal speed a godhead to pursue? + For not to thee to know the gods is given, + Unskill'd to trace the latent marks of heaven. + What boots thee now, that Troy forsook the plain? + Vain thy past labour, and thy present vain: + Safe in their walls are now her troops bestow'd, + While here thy frantic rage attacks a god." + + The chief incensed--"Too partial god of day! + To check my conquests in the middle way: + How few in Ilion else had refuge found! + What gasping numbers now had bit the ground! + Thou robb'st me of a glory justly mine, + Powerful of godhead, and of fraud divine: + Mean fame, alas! for one of heavenly strain, + To cheat a mortal who repines in vain." + + Then to the city, terrible and strong, + With high and haughty steps he tower'd along, + So the proud courser, victor of the prize, + To the near goal with double ardour flies. + Him, as he blazing shot across the field, + The careful eyes of Priam first beheld. + Not half so dreadful rises to the sight,(274) + Through the thick gloom of some tempestuous night, + Orion's dog (the year when autumn weighs), + And o'er the feebler stars exerts his rays; + Terrific glory! for his burning breath + Taints the red air with fevers, plagues, and death. + So flamed his fiery mail. Then wept the sage: + He strikes his reverend head, now white with age; + He lifts his wither'd arms; obtests the skies; + He calls his much-loved son with feeble cries: + The son, resolved Achilles' force to dare, + Full at the Scaean gates expects the war; + While the sad father on the rampart stands, + And thus adjures him with extended hands: + + "Ah stay not, stay not! guardless and alone; + Hector! my loved, my dearest, bravest son! + Methinks already I behold thee slain, + And stretch'd beneath that fury of the plain. + Implacable Achilles! might'st thou be + To all the gods no dearer than to me! + Thee, vultures wild should scatter round the shore. + And bloody dogs grow fiercer from thy gore. + How many valiant sons I late enjoy'd, + Valiant in vain! by thy cursed arm destroy'd: + Or, worse than slaughtered, sold in distant isles + To shameful bondage, and unworthy toils. + Two, while I speak, my eyes in vain explore, + Two from one mother sprung, my Polydore, + And loved Lycaon; now perhaps no more! + Oh! if in yonder hostile camp they live, + What heaps of gold, what treasures would I give! + (Their grandsire's wealth, by right of birth their own, + Consign'd his daughter with Lelegia's throne:) + But if (which Heaven forbid) already lost, + All pale they wander on the Stygian coast; + What sorrows then must their sad mother know, + What anguish I? unutterable woe! + Yet less that anguish, less to her, to me, + Less to all Troy, if not deprived of thee. + Yet shun Achilles! enter yet the wall; + And spare thyself, thy father, spare us all! + Save thy dear life; or, if a soul so brave + Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory save. + Pity, while yet I live, these silver hairs; + While yet thy father feels the woes he bears, + Yet cursed with sense! a wretch, whom in his rage + (All trembling on the verge of helpless age) + Great Jove has placed, sad spectacle of pain! + The bitter dregs of fortune's cup to drain: + To fill with scenes of death his closing eyes, + And number all his days by miseries! + My heroes slain, my bridal bed o'erturn'd, + My daughters ravish'd, and my city burn'd, + My bleeding infants dash'd against the floor; + These I have yet to see, perhaps yet more! + Perhaps even I, reserved by angry fate, + The last sad relic of my ruin'd state, + (Dire pomp of sovereign wretchedness!) must fall, + And stain the pavement of my regal hall; + Where famish'd dogs, late guardians of my door, + Shall lick their mangled master's spatter'd gore. + Yet for my sons I thank ye, gods! 'tis well; + Well have they perish'd, for in fight they fell. + Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best, + Struck through with wounds, all honest on the breast. + But when the fates, in fulness of their rage, + Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age, + In dust the reverend lineaments deform, + And pour to dogs the life-blood scarcely warm: + This, this is misery! the last, the worse, + That man can feel! man, fated to be cursed!" + + He said, and acting what no words could say, + Rent from his head the silver locks away. + With him the mournful mother bears a part; + Yet all her sorrows turn not Hector's heart. + The zone unbraced, her bosom she display'd; + And thus, fast-falling the salt tears, she said: + + "Have mercy on me, O my son! revere + The words of age; attend a parent's prayer! + If ever thee in these fond arms I press'd, + Or still'd thy infant clamours at this breast; + Ah do not thus our helpless years forego, + But, by our walls secured, repel the foe. + Against his rage if singly thou proceed, + Should'st thou, (but Heaven avert it!) should'st thou bleed, + Nor must thy corse lie honour'd on the bier, + Nor spouse, nor mother, grace thee with a tear! + Far from our pious rites those dear remains + Must feast the vultures on the naked plains." + + So they, while down their cheeks the torrents roll; + But fix'd remains the purpose of his soul; + Resolved he stands, and with a fiery glance + Expects the hero's terrible advance. + So, roll'd up in his den, the swelling snake + Beholds the traveller approach the brake; + When fed with noxious herbs his turgid veins + Have gather'd half the poisons of the plains; + He burns, he stiffens with collected ire, + And his red eyeballs glare with living fire. + Beneath a turret, on his shield reclined, + He stood, and question'd thus his mighty mind:(275) + + "Where lies my way? to enter in the wall? + Honour and shame the ungenerous thought recall: + Shall proud Polydamas before the gate + Proclaim, his counsels are obey'd too late, + Which timely follow'd but the former night, + What numbers had been saved by Hector's flight? + That wise advice rejected with disdain, + I feel my folly in my people slain. + Methinks my suffering country's voice I hear, + But most her worthless sons insult my ear, + On my rash courage charge the chance of war, + And blame those virtues which they cannot share. + No--if I e'er return, return I must + Glorious, my country's terror laid in dust: + Or if I perish, let her see me fall + In field at least, and fighting for her wall. + And yet suppose these measures I forego, + Approach unarm'd, and parley with the foe, + The warrior-shield, the helm, and lance, lay down. + And treat on terms of peace to save the town: + The wife withheld, the treasure ill-detain'd + (Cause of the war, and grievance of the land) + With honourable justice to restore: + And add half Ilion's yet remaining store, + Which Troy shall, sworn, produce; that injured Greece + May share our wealth, and leave our walls in peace. + But why this thought? Unarm'd if I should go, + What hope of mercy from this vengeful foe, + But woman-like to fall, and fall without a blow? + We greet not here, as man conversing man, + Met at an oak, or journeying o'er a plain; + No season now for calm familiar talk, + Like youths and maidens in an evening walk: + War is our business, but to whom is given + To die, or triumph, that, determine Heaven!" + + Thus pondering, like a god the Greek drew nigh; + His dreadful plumage nodded from on high; + The Pelian javelin, in his better hand, + Shot trembling rays that glitter'd o'er the land; + And on his breast the beamy splendour shone, + Like Jove's own lightning, or the rising sun. + As Hector sees, unusual terrors rise, + Struck by some god, he fears, recedes, and flies. + He leaves the gates, he leaves the wall behind: + Achilles follows like the winged wind. + Thus at the panting dove a falcon flies + (The swiftest racer of the liquid skies), + Just when he holds, or thinks he holds his prey, + Obliquely wheeling through the aerial way, + With open beak and shrilling cries he springs, + And aims his claws, and shoots upon his wings: + No less fore-right the rapid chase they held, + One urged by fury, one by fear impell'd: + Now circling round the walls their course maintain, + Where the high watch-tower overlooks the plain; + Now where the fig-trees spread their umbrage broad, + (A wider compass,) smoke along the road. + Next by Scamander's double source they bound, + Where two famed fountains burst the parted ground; + This hot through scorching clefts is seen to rise, + With exhalations steaming to the skies; + That the green banks in summer's heat o'erflows, + Like crystal clear, and cold as winter snows: + Each gushing fount a marble cistern fills, + Whose polish'd bed receives the falling rills; + Where Trojan dames (ere yet alarm'd by Greece) + Wash'd their fair garments in the days of peace.(276) + By these they pass'd, one chasing, one in flight: + (The mighty fled, pursued by stronger might:) + Swift was the course; no vulgar prize they play, + No vulgar victim must reward the day: + (Such as in races crown the speedy strife:) + The prize contended was great Hector's life. + As when some hero's funerals are decreed + In grateful honour of the mighty dead; + Where high rewards the vigorous youth inflame + (Some golden tripod, or some lovely dame) + The panting coursers swiftly turn the goal, + And with them turns the raised spectator's soul: + Thus three times round the Trojan wall they fly. + The gazing gods lean forward from the sky; + To whom, while eager on the chase they look, + The sire of mortals and immortals spoke: + + "Unworthy sight! the man beloved of heaven, + Behold, inglorious round yon city driven! + My heart partakes the generous Hector's pain; + Hector, whose zeal whole hecatombs has slain, + Whose grateful fumes the gods received with joy, + From Ida's summits, and the towers of Troy: + Now see him flying; to his fears resign'd, + And fate, and fierce Achilles, close behind. + Consult, ye powers! ('tis worthy your debate) + Whether to snatch him from impending fate, + Or let him bear, by stern Pelides slain, + (Good as he is) the lot imposed on man." + + Then Pallas thus: "Shall he whose vengeance forms + The forky bolt, and blackens heaven with storms, + Shall he prolong one Trojan's forfeit breath? + A man, a mortal, pre-ordain'd to death! + And will no murmurs fill the courts above? + No gods indignant blame their partial Jove?" + + "Go then (return'd the sire) without delay, + Exert thy will: I give the Fates their way. + Swift at the mandate pleased Tritonia flies, + And stoops impetuous from the cleaving skies. + + As through the forest, o'er the vale and lawn, + The well-breath'd beagle drives the flying fawn, + In vain he tries the covert of the brakes, + Or deep beneath the trembling thicket shakes; + Sure of the vapour in the tainted dews, + The certain hound his various maze pursues. + Thus step by step, where'er the Trojan wheel'd, + There swift Achilles compass'd round the field. + Oft as to reach the Dardan gates he bends, + And hopes the assistance of his pitying friends, + (Whose showering arrows, as he coursed below, + From the high turrets might oppress the foe,) + So oft Achilles turns him to the plain: + He eyes the city, but he eyes in vain. + As men in slumbers seem with speedy pace, + One to pursue, and one to lead the chase, + Their sinking limbs the fancied course forsake, + Nor this can fly, nor that can overtake: + No less the labouring heroes pant and strain: + While that but flies, and this pursues in vain. + + What god, O muse, assisted Hector's force + With fate itself so long to hold the course? + Phoebus it was; who, in his latest hour, + Endued his knees with strength, his nerves with power: + And great Achilles, lest some Greek's advance + Should snatch the glory from his lifted lance, + Sign'd to the troops to yield his foe the way, + And leave untouch'd the honours of the day. + + Jove lifts the golden balances, that show + The fates of mortal men, and things below: + Here each contending hero's lot he tries, + And weighs, with equal hand, their destinies. + Low sinks the scale surcharged with Hector's fate; + Heavy with death it sinks, and hell receives the weight. + + Then Phoebus left him. Fierce Minerva flies + To stern Pelides, and triumphing, cries: + "O loved of Jove! this day our labours cease, + And conquest blazes with full beams on Greece. + Great Hector falls; that Hector famed so far, + Drunk with renown, insatiable of war, + Falls by thy hand, and mine! nor force, nor flight, + Shall more avail him, nor his god of light. + See, where in vain he supplicates above, + Roll'd at the feet of unrelenting Jove; + Rest here: myself will lead the Trojan on, + And urge to meet the fate he cannot shun." + + Her voice divine the chief with joyful mind + Obey'd; and rested, on his lance reclined + While like Deiphobus the martial dame + (Her face, her gesture, and her arms the same), + In show an aid, by hapless Hector's side + Approach'd, and greets him thus with voice belied: + + "Too long, O Hector! have I borne the sight + Of this distress, and sorrow'd in thy flight: + It fits us now a noble stand to make, + And here, as brothers, equal fates partake." + + Then he: "O prince! allied in blood and fame, + Dearer than all that own a brother's name; + Of all that Hecuba to Priam bore, + Long tried, long loved: much loved, but honoured more! + Since you, of all our numerous race alone + Defend my life, regardless of your own." + + Again the goddess: "Much my father's prayer, + And much my mother's, press'd me to forbear: + My friends embraced my knees, adjured my stay, + But stronger love impell'd, and I obey. + Come then, the glorious conflict let us try, + Let the steel sparkle, and the javelin fly; + Or let us stretch Achilles on the field, + Or to his arm our bloody trophies yield." + + Fraudful she said; then swiftly march'd before: + The Dardan hero shuns his foe no more. + Sternly they met. The silence Hector broke: + His dreadful plumage nodded as he spoke: + + "Enough, O son of Peleus! Troy has view'd + Her walls thrice circled, and her chief pursued. + But now some god within me bids me try + Thine, or my fate: I kill thee, or I die. + Yet on the verge of battle let us stay, + And for a moment's space suspend the day; + Let Heaven's high powers be call'd to arbitrate + The just conditions of this stern debate, + (Eternal witnesses of all below, + And faithful guardians of the treasured vow!) + To them I swear; if, victor in the strife, + Jove by these hands shall shed thy noble life, + No vile dishonour shall thy corse pursue; + Stripp'd of its arms alone (the conqueror's due) + The rest to Greece uninjured I'll restore: + Now plight thy mutual oath, I ask no more." + + "Talk not of oaths (the dreadful chief replies, + While anger flash'd from his disdainful eyes), + Detested as thou art, and ought to be, + Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with thee: + Such pacts as lambs and rabid wolves combine, + Such leagues as men and furious lions join, + To such I call the gods! one constant state + Of lasting rancour and eternal hate: + No thought but rage, and never-ceasing strife, + Till death extinguish rage, and thought, and life. + Rouse then thy forces this important hour, + Collect thy soul, and call forth all thy power. + No further subterfuge, no further chance; + 'Tis Pallas, Pallas gives thee to my lance. + Each Grecian ghost, by thee deprived of breath, + Now hovers round, and calls thee to thy death." + + He spoke, and launch'd his javelin at the foe; + But Hector shunn'd the meditated blow: + He stoop'd, while o'er his head the flying spear + Sang innocent, and spent its force in air. + Minerva watch'd it falling on the land, + Then drew, and gave to great Achilles' hand, + Unseen of Hector, who, elate with joy, + Now shakes his lance, and braves the dread of Troy. + + "The life you boasted to that javelin given, + Prince! you have miss'd. My fate depends on Heaven, + To thee, presumptuous as thou art, unknown, + Or what must prove my fortune, or thy own. + Boasting is but an art, our fears to blind, + And with false terrors sink another's mind. + But know, whatever fate I am to try, + By no dishonest wound shall Hector die. + I shall not fall a fugitive at least, + My soul shall bravely issue from my breast. + But first, try thou my arm; and may this dart + End all my country's woes, deep buried in thy heart." + + The weapon flew, its course unerring held, + Unerring, but the heavenly shield repell'd + The mortal dart; resulting with a bound + From off the ringing orb, it struck the ground. + Hector beheld his javelin fall in vain, + Nor other lance, nor other hope remain; + He calls Deiphobus, demands a spear-- + In vain, for no Deiphobus was there. + All comfortless he stands: then, with a sigh; + "'Tis so--Heaven wills it, and my hour is nigh! + I deem'd Deiphobus had heard my call, + But he secure lies guarded in the wall. + A god deceived me; Pallas, 'twas thy deed, + Death and black fate approach! 'tis I must bleed. + No refuge now, no succour from above, + Great Jove deserts me, and the son of Jove, + Propitious once, and kind! Then welcome fate! + 'Tis true I perish, yet I perish great: + Yet in a mighty deed I shall expire, + Let future ages hear it, and admire!" + + Fierce, at the word, his weighty sword he drew, + And, all collected, on Achilles flew. + So Jove's bold bird, high balanced in the air, + Stoops from the clouds to truss the quivering hare. + Nor less Achilles his fierce soul prepares: + Before his breast the flaming shield he bears, + Refulgent orb! above his fourfold cone + The gilded horse-hair sparkled in the sun. + Nodding at every step: (Vulcanian frame!) + And as he moved, his figure seem'd on flame. + As radiant Hesper shines with keener light,(277) + Far-beaming o'er the silver host of night, + When all the starry train emblaze the sphere: + So shone the point of great Achilles' spear. + In his right hand he waves the weapon round, + Eyes the whole man, and meditates the wound; + But the rich mail Patroclus lately wore + Securely cased the warrior's body o'er. + One space at length he spies, to let in fate, + Where 'twixt the neck and throat the jointed plate + Gave entrance: through that penetrable part + Furious he drove the well-directed dart: + Nor pierced the windpipe yet, nor took the power + Of speech, unhappy! from thy dying hour. + Prone on the field the bleeding warrior lies, + While, thus triumphing, stern Achilles cries: + + "At last is Hector stretch'd upon the plain, + Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus slain: + Then, prince! you should have fear'd, what now you feel; + Achilles absent was Achilles still: + Yet a short space the great avenger stayed, + Then low in dust thy strength and glory laid. + Peaceful he sleeps, with all our rites adorn'd, + For ever honour'd, and for ever mourn'd: + While cast to all the rage of hostile power, + Thee birds shall mangle, and the gods devour." + + Then Hector, fainting at the approach of death: + "By thy own soul! by those who gave thee breath! + By all the sacred prevalence of prayer; + Ah, leave me not for Grecian dogs to tear! + The common rites of sepulture bestow, + To soothe a father's and a mother's woe: + Let their large gifts procure an urn at least, + And Hector's ashes in his country rest." + + "No, wretch accursed! relentless he replies; + (Flames, as he spoke, shot flashing from his eyes;) + Not those who gave me breath should bid me spare, + Nor all the sacred prevalence of prayer. + Could I myself the bloody banquet join! + No--to the dogs that carcase I resign. + Should Troy, to bribe me, bring forth all her store, + And giving thousands, offer thousands more; + Should Dardan Priam, and his weeping dame, + Drain their whole realm to buy one funeral flame: + Their Hector on the pile they should not see, + Nor rob the vultures of one limb of thee." + + Then thus the chief his dying accents drew: + "Thy rage, implacable! too well I knew: + The Furies that relentless breast have steel'd, + And cursed thee with a heart that cannot yield. + Yet think, a day will come, when fate's decree + And angry gods shall wreak this wrong on thee; + Phoebus and Paris shall avenge my fate, + And stretch thee here before the Scaean gate."(278) + + He ceased. The Fates suppress'd his labouring breath, + And his eyes stiffen'd at the hand of death; + To the dark realm the spirit wings its way, + (The manly body left a load of clay,) + And plaintive glides along the dreary coast, + A naked, wandering, melancholy ghost! + + Achilles, musing as he roll'd his eyes + O'er the dead hero, thus unheard, replies: + "Die thou the first! When Jove and heaven ordain, + I follow thee"--He said, and stripp'd the slain. + Then forcing backward from the gaping wound + The reeking javelin, cast it on the ground. + The thronging Greeks behold with wondering eyes + His manly beauty and superior size; + While some, ignobler, the great dead deface + With wounds ungenerous, or with taunts disgrace: + + "How changed that Hector, who like Jove of late + Sent lightning on our fleets, and scatter'd fate!" + + High o'er the slain the great Achilles stands, + Begirt with heroes and surrounding bands; + And thus aloud, while all the host attends: + "Princes and leaders! countrymen and friends! + Since now at length the powerful will of heaven + The dire destroyer to our arm has given, + Is not Troy fallen already? Haste, ye powers! + See, if already their deserted towers + Are left unmann'd; or if they yet retain + The souls of heroes, their great Hector slain. + But what is Troy, or glory what to me? + Or why reflects my mind on aught but thee, + Divine Patroclus! Death hath seal'd his eyes; + Unwept, unhonour'd, uninterr'd he lies! + Can his dear image from my soul depart, + Long as the vital spirit moves my heart? + If in the melancholy shades below, + The flames of friends and lovers cease to glow, + Yet mine shall sacred last; mine, undecay'd, + Burn on through death, and animate my shade. + Meanwhile, ye sons of Greece, in triumph bring + The corpse of Hector, and your paeans sing. + Be this the song, slow-moving toward the shore, + "Hector is dead, and Ilion is no more." + + Then his fell soul a thought of vengeance bred; + (Unworthy of himself, and of the dead;) + The nervous ancles bored, his feet he bound + With thongs inserted through the double wound; + These fix'd up high behind the rolling wain, + His graceful head was trail'd along the plain. + Proud on his car the insulting victor stood, + And bore aloft his arms, distilling blood. + He smites the steeds; the rapid chariot flies; + The sudden clouds of circling dust arise. + Now lost is all that formidable air; + The face divine, and long-descending hair, + Purple the ground, and streak the sable sand; + Deform'd, dishonour'd, in his native land, + Given to the rage of an insulting throng, + And, in his parents' sight, now dragg'd along! + + The mother first beheld with sad survey; + She rent her tresses, venerable grey, + And cast, far off, the regal veils away. + With piercing shrieks his bitter fate she moans, + While the sad father answers groans with groans + Tears after tears his mournful cheeks o'erflow, + And the whole city wears one face of woe: + No less than if the rage of hostile fires. + From her foundations curling to her spires, + O'er the proud citadel at length should rise, + And the last blaze send Ilion to the skies. + The wretched monarch of the falling state, + Distracted, presses to the Dardan gate. + Scarce the whole people stop his desperate course, + While strong affliction gives the feeble force: + Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro, + In all the raging impotence of woe. + At length he roll'd in dust, and thus begun, + Imploring all, and naming one by one: + "Ah! let me, let me go where sorrow calls; + I, only I, will issue from your walls + (Guide or companion, friends! I ask ye none), + And bow before the murderer of my son. + My grief perhaps his pity may engage; + Perhaps at least he may respect my age. + He has a father too; a man like me; + One, not exempt from age and misery + (Vigorous no more, as when his young embrace + Begot this pest of me, and all my race). + How many valiant sons, in early bloom, + Has that cursed hand send headlong to the tomb! + Thee, Hector! last: thy loss (divinely brave) + Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave. + O had thy gentle spirit pass'd in peace, + The son expiring in the sire's embrace, + While both thy parents wept the fatal hour, + And, bending o'er thee, mix'd the tender shower! + Some comfort that had been, some sad relief, + To melt in full satiety of grief!" + + Thus wail'd the father, grovelling on the ground, + And all the eyes of Ilion stream'd around. + + Amidst her matrons Hecuba appears: + (A mourning princess, and a train in tears;) + "Ah why has Heaven prolong'd this hated breath, + Patient of horrors, to behold thy death? + O Hector! late thy parents' pride and joy, + The boast of nations! the defence of Troy! + To whom her safety and her fame she owed; + Her chief, her hero, and almost her god! + O fatal change! become in one sad day + A senseless corse! inanimated clay!" + + But not as yet the fatal news had spread + To fair Andromache, of Hector dead; + As yet no messenger had told his fate, + Not e'en his stay without the Scaean gate. + Far in the close recesses of the dome, + Pensive she plied the melancholy loom; + A growing work employ'd her secret hours, + Confusedly gay with intermingled flowers. + Her fair-haired handmaids heat the brazen urn, + The bath preparing for her lord's return + In vain; alas! her lord returns no more; + Unbathed he lies, and bleeds along the shore! + Now from the walls the clamours reach her ear, + And all her members shake with sudden fear: + Forth from her ivory hand the shuttle falls, + And thus, astonish'd, to her maids she calls: + + [Illustration: THE BATH.] + + THE BATH. + + + "Ah follow me! (she cried) what plaintive noise + Invades my ear? 'Tis sure my mother's voice. + My faltering knees their trembling frame desert, + A pulse unusual flutters at my heart; + Some strange disaster, some reverse of fate + (Ye gods avert it!) threats the Trojan state. + Far be the omen which my thoughts suggest! + But much I fear my Hector's dauntless breast + Confronts Achilles; chased along the plain, + Shut from our walls! I fear, I fear him slain! + Safe in the crowd he ever scorn'd to wait, + And sought for glory in the jaws of fate: + Perhaps that noble heat has cost his breath, + Now quench'd for ever in the arms of death." + + She spoke: and furious, with distracted pace, + Fears in her heart, and anguish in her face, + Flies through the dome (the maids her steps pursue), + And mounts the walls, and sends around her view. + Too soon her eyes the killing object found, + The godlike Hector dragg'd along the ground. + A sudden darkness shades her swimming eyes: + She faints, she falls; her breath, her colour flies. + Her hair's fair ornaments, the braids that bound, + The net that held them, and the wreath that crown'd, + The veil and diadem flew far away + (The gift of Venus on her bridal day). + Around a train of weeping sisters stands, + To raise her sinking with assistant hands. + Scarce from the verge of death recall'd, again + She faints, or but recovers to complain. + + [Illustration: ANDROMACHE FAINTING ON THE WALL.] + + ANDROMACHE FAINTING ON THE WALL. + + + "O wretched husband of a wretched wife! + Born with one fate, to one unhappy life! + For sure one star its baneful beam display'd + On Priam's roof, and Hippoplacia's shade. + From different parents, different climes we came. + At different periods, yet our fate the same! + Why was my birth to great Aetion owed, + And why was all that tender care bestow'd? + Would I had never been!--O thou, the ghost + Of my dead husband! miserably lost! + Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone! + And I abandon'd, desolate, alone! + An only child, once comfort of my pains, + Sad product now of hapless love, remains! + No more to smile upon his sire; no friend + To help him now! no father to defend! + For should he 'scape the sword, the common doom, + What wrongs attend him, and what griefs to come! + Even from his own paternal roof expell'd, + Some stranger ploughs his patrimonial field. + The day, that to the shades the father sends, + Robs the sad orphan of his father's friends: + He, wretched outcast of mankind! appears + For ever sad, for ever bathed in tears; + Amongst the happy, unregarded, he + Hangs on the robe, or trembles at the knee, + While those his father's former bounty fed + Nor reach the goblet, nor divide the bread: + The kindest but his present wants allay, + To leave him wretched the succeeding day. + Frugal compassion! Heedless, they who boast + Both parents still, nor feel what he has lost, + Shall cry, 'Begone! thy father feasts not here:' + The wretch obeys, retiring with a tear. + Thus wretched, thus retiring all in tears, + To my sad soul Astyanax appears! + Forced by repeated insults to return, + And to his widow'd mother vainly mourn: + He, who, with tender delicacy bred, + With princes sported, and on dainties fed, + And when still evening gave him up to rest, + Sunk soft in down upon the nurse's breast, + Must--ah what must he not? Whom Ilion calls + Astyanax, from her well-guarded walls,(279) + Is now that name no more, unhappy boy! + Since now no more thy father guards his Troy. + But thou, my Hector, liest exposed in air, + Far from thy parents' and thy consort's care; + Whose hand in vain, directed by her love, + The martial scarf and robe of triumph wove. + Now to devouring flames be these a prey, + Useless to thee, from this accursed day! + Yet let the sacrifice at least be paid, + An honour to the living, not the dead!" + + So spake the mournful dame: her matrons hear, + Sigh back her sighs, and answer tear with tear. + + + + + +BOOK XXIII. + + +ARGUMENT. + +FUNERAL GAMES IN HONOUR OF PATROCLUS.(280) + +Achilles and the Myrmidons do honours to the body of Patroclus. After the +funeral feast he retires to the sea-shore, where, falling asleep, the +ghost of his friend appears to him, and demands the rites of burial; the +next morning the soldiers are sent with mules and waggons to fetch wood +for the pyre. The funeral procession, and the offering their hair to the +dead. Achilles sacrifices several animals, and lastly twelve Trojan +captives, at the pile; then sets fire to it. He pays libations to the +Winds, which (at the instance of Iris) rise, and raise the flames. When +the pile has burned all night, they gather the bones, place them in an urn +of gold, and raise the tomb. Achilles institutes the funeral games: the +chariot-race, the fight of the caestus, the wrestling, the foot-race, the +single combat, the discus, the shooting with arrows, the darting the +javelin: the various descriptions of which, and the various success of the +several antagonists, make the greatest part of the book. + +In this book ends the thirtieth day. The night following, the ghost of +Patroclus appears to Achilles: the one-and-thirtieth day is employed in +felling the timber for the pile: the two-and-thirtieth in burning it; and +the three-and-thirtieth in the games. The scene is generally on the +sea-shore. + + Thus humbled in the dust, the pensive train + Through the sad city mourn'd her hero slain. + The body soil'd with dust, and black with gore, + Lies on broad Hellespont's resounding shore. + The Grecians seek their ships, and clear the strand, + All, but the martial Myrmidonian band: + These yet assembled great Achilles holds, + And the stern purpose of his mind unfolds: + + "Not yet, my brave companions of the war, + Release your smoking coursers from the car; + But, with his chariot each in order led, + Perform due honours to Patroclus dead. + Ere yet from rest or food we seek relief, + Some rites remain, to glut our rage of grief." + + The troops obey'd; and thrice in order led(281) + (Achilles first) their coursers round the dead; + And thrice their sorrows and laments renew; + Tears bathe their arms, and tears the sands bedew. + For such a warrior Thetis aids their woe, + Melts their strong hearts, and bids their eyes to flow. + But chief, Pelides: thick-succeeding sighs + Burst from his heart, and torrents from his eyes: + His slaughtering hands, yet red with blood, he laid + On his dead friend's cold breast, and thus he said: + + "All hail, Patroclus! let thy honour'd ghost + Hear, and rejoice on Pluto's dreary coast; + Behold! Achilles' promise is complete; + The bloody Hector stretch'd before thy feet. + Lo! to the dogs his carcase I resign; + And twelve sad victims, of the Trojan line, + Sacred to vengeance, instant shall expire; + Their lives effused around thy funeral pyre." + + Gloomy he said, and (horrible to view) + Before the bier the bleeding Hector threw, + Prone on the dust. The Myrmidons around + Unbraced their armour, and the steeds unbound. + All to Achilles' sable ship repair, + Frequent and full, the genial feast to share. + Now from the well-fed swine black smokes aspire, + The bristly victims hissing o'er the fire: + The huge ox bellowing falls; with feebler cries + Expires the goat; the sheep in silence dies. + Around the hero's prostrate body flow'd, + In one promiscuous stream, the reeking blood. + And now a band of Argive monarchs brings + The glorious victor to the king of kings. + From his dead friend the pensive warrior went, + With steps unwilling, to the regal tent. + The attending heralds, as by office bound, + With kindled flames the tripod-vase surround: + To cleanse his conquering hands from hostile gore, + They urged in vain; the chief refused, and swore:(282) + + "No drop shall touch me, by almighty Jove! + The first and greatest of the gods above! + Till on the pyre I place thee; till I rear + The grassy mound, and clip thy sacred hair. + Some ease at least those pious rites may give, + And soothe my sorrows, while I bear to live. + Howe'er, reluctant as I am, I stay + And share your feast; but with the dawn of day, + (O king of men!) it claims thy royal care, + That Greece the warrior's funeral pile prepare, + And bid the forests fall: (such rites are paid + To heroes slumbering in eternal shade:) + Then, when his earthly part shall mount in fire, + Let the leagued squadrons to their posts retire." + + He spoke: they hear him, and the word obey; + The rage of hunger and of thirst allay, + Then ease in sleep the labours of the day. + But great Pelides, stretch'd along the shore, + Where, dash'd on rocks, the broken billows roar, + Lies inly groaning; while on either hand + The martial Myrmidons confusedly stand. + Along the grass his languid members fall, + Tired with his chase around the Trojan wall; + Hush'd by the murmurs of the rolling deep, + At length he sinks in the soft arms of sleep. + When lo! the shade, before his closing eyes, + Of sad Patroclus rose, or seem'd to rise: + In the same robe he living wore, he came: + In stature, voice, and pleasing look, the same. + The form familiar hover'd o'er his head, + "And sleeps Achilles? (thus the phantom said:) + Sleeps my Achilles, his Patroclus dead? + Living, I seem'd his dearest, tenderest care, + But now forgot, I wander in the air. + Let my pale corse the rites of burial know, + And give me entrance in the realms below: + Till then the spirit finds no resting-place, + But here and there the unbodied spectres chase + The vagrant dead around the dark abode, + Forbid to cross the irremeable flood. + Now give thy hand; for to the farther shore + When once we pass, the soul returns no more: + When once the last funereal flames ascend, + No more shall meet Achilles and his friend; + No more our thoughts to those we loved make known; + Or quit the dearest, to converse alone. + Me fate has sever'd from the sons of earth, + The fate fore-doom'd that waited from my birth: + Thee too it waits; before the Trojan wall + Even great and godlike thou art doom'd to fall. + Hear then; and as in fate and love we join, + Ah suffer that my bones may rest with thine! + Together have we lived; together bred, + One house received us, and one table fed; + That golden urn, thy goddess-mother gave, + May mix our ashes in one common grave." + + "And is it thou? (he answers) To my sight(283) + Once more return'st thou from the realms of night? + O more than brother! Think each office paid, + Whate'er can rest a discontented shade; + But grant one last embrace, unhappy boy! + Afford at least that melancholy joy." + + He said, and with his longing arms essay'd + In vain to grasp the visionary shade! + Like a thin smoke he sees the spirit fly,(284) + And hears a feeble, lamentable cry. + Confused he wakes; amazement breaks the bands + Of golden sleep, and starting from the sands, + Pensive he muses with uplifted hands: + + "'Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains + Part of himself; the immortal mind remains: + The form subsists without the body's aid, + Aerial semblance, and an empty shade! + This night my friend, so late in battle lost, + Stood at my side, a pensive, plaintive ghost: + Even now familiar, as in life, he came; + Alas! how different! yet how like the same!" + + Thus while he spoke, each eye grew big with tears: + And now the rosy-finger'd morn appears, + Shows every mournful face with tears o'erspread, + And glares on the pale visage of the dead. + But Agamemnon, as the rites demand, + With mules and waggons sends a chosen band + To load the timber, and the pile to rear; + A charge consign'd to Merion's faithful care. + With proper instruments they take the road, + Axes to cut, and ropes to sling the load. + First march the heavy mules, securely slow, + O'er hills, o'er dales, o'er crags, o'er rocks they go:(285) + Jumping, high o'er the shrubs of the rough ground, + Rattle the clattering cars, and the shock'd axles bound + But when arrived at Ida's spreading woods,(286) + (Fair Ida, water'd with descending floods,) + Loud sounds the axe, redoubling strokes on strokes; + On all sides round the forest hurls her oaks + Headlong. Deep echoing groan the thickets brown; + Then rustling, crackling, crashing, thunder down. + The wood the Grecians cleave, prepared to burn; + And the slow mules the same rough road return + The sturdy woodmen equal burdens bore + (Such charge was given them) to the sandy shore; + There on the spot which great Achilles show'd, + They eased their shoulders, and disposed the load; + Circling around the place, where times to come + Shall view Patroclus' and Achilles' tomb. + The hero bids his martial troops appear + High on their cars in all the pomp of war; + Each in refulgent arms his limbs attires, + All mount their chariots, combatants and squires. + The chariots first proceed, a shining train; + Then clouds of foot that smoke along the plain; + Next these the melancholy band appear; + Amidst, lay dead Patroclus on the bier; + O'er all the corse their scattered locks they throw; + Achilles next, oppress'd with mighty woe, + Supporting with his hands the hero's head, + Bends o'er the extended body of the dead. + Patroclus decent on the appointed ground + They place, and heap the sylvan pile around. + But great Achilles stands apart in prayer, + And from his head divides the yellow hair; + Those curling locks which from his youth he vow'd,(287) + And sacred grew, to Sperchius' honour'd flood: + Then sighing, to the deep his locks he cast, + And roll'd his eyes around the watery waste: + + "Sperchius! whose waves in mazy errors lost + Delightful roll along my native coast! + To whom we vainly vow'd, at our return, + These locks to fall, and hecatombs to burn: + Full fifty rams to bleed in sacrifice, + Where to the day thy silver fountains rise, + And where in shade of consecrated bowers + Thy altars stand, perfumed with native flowers! + So vow'd my father, but he vow'd in vain; + No more Achilles sees his native plain; + In that vain hope these hairs no longer grow, + Patroclus bears them to the shades below." + + Thus o'er Patroclus while the hero pray'd, + On his cold hand the sacred lock he laid. + Once more afresh the Grecian sorrows flow: + And now the sun had set upon their woe; + But to the king of men thus spoke the chief: + "Enough, Atrides! give the troops relief: + Permit the mourning legions to retire, + And let the chiefs alone attend the pyre; + The pious care be ours, the dead to burn--" + He said: the people to their ships return: + While those deputed to inter the slain + Heap with a rising pyramid the plain.(288) + A hundred foot in length, a hundred wide, + The growing structure spreads on every side; + High on the top the manly corse they lay, + And well-fed sheep and sable oxen slay: + Achilles covered with their fat the dead, + And the piled victims round the body spread; + Then jars of honey, and of fragrant oil, + Suspends around, low-bending o'er the pile. + Four sprightly coursers, with a deadly groan + Pour forth their lives, and on the pyre are thrown. + Of nine large dogs, domestic at his board, + Fall two, selected to attend their lord, + Then last of all, and horrible to tell, + Sad sacrifice! twelve Trojan captives fell.(289) + On these the rage of fire victorious preys, + Involves and joins them in one common blaze. + Smear'd with the bloody rites, he stands on high, + And calls the spirit with a dreadful cry:(290) + + "All hail, Patroclus! let thy vengeful ghost + Hear, and exult, on Pluto's dreary coast. + Behold Achilles' promise fully paid, + Twelve Trojan heroes offer'd to thy shade; + But heavier fates on Hector's corse attend, + Saved from the flames, for hungry dogs to rend." + + So spake he, threatening: but the gods made vain + His threat, and guard inviolate the slain: + Celestial Venus hover'd o'er his head, + And roseate unguents, heavenly fragrance! shed: + She watch'd him all the night and all the day, + And drove the bloodhounds from their destined prey. + Nor sacred Phoebus less employ'd his care; + He pour'd around a veil of gather'd air, + And kept the nerves undried, the flesh entire, + Against the solar beam and Sirian fire. + + [Illustration: THE FUNERAL PILE OF PATROCLUS.] + + THE FUNERAL PILE OF PATROCLUS. + + + Nor yet the pile, where dead Patroclus lies, + Smokes, nor as yet the sullen flames arise; + But, fast beside, Achilles stood in prayer, + Invoked the gods whose spirit moves the air, + And victims promised, and libations cast, + To gentle Zephyr and the Boreal blast: + He call'd the aerial powers, along the skies + To breathe, and whisper to the fires to rise. + The winged Iris heard the hero's call, + And instant hasten'd to their airy hall, + Where in old Zephyr's open courts on high, + Sat all the blustering brethren of the sky. + She shone amidst them, on her painted bow; + The rocky pavement glitter'd with the show. + All from the banquet rise, and each invites + The various goddess to partake the rites. + "Not so (the dame replied), I haste to go + To sacred Ocean, and the floods below: + Even now our solemn hecatombs attend, + And heaven is feasting on the world's green end + With righteous Ethiops (uncorrupted train!) + Far on the extremest limits of the main. + But Peleus' son entreats, with sacrifice, + The western spirit, and the north, to rise! + Let on Patroclus' pile your blast be driven, + And bear the blazing honours high to heaven." + + Swift as the word she vanish'd from their view; + Swift as the word the winds tumultuous flew; + Forth burst the stormy band with thundering roar, + And heaps on heaps the clouds are toss'd before. + To the wide main then stooping from the skies, + The heaving deeps in watery mountains rise: + Troy feels the blast along her shaking walls, + Till on the pile the gather'd tempest falls. + The structure crackles in the roaring fires, + And all the night the plenteous flame aspires. + All night Achilles hails Patroclus' soul, + With large libations from the golden bowl. + As a poor father, helpless and undone, + Mourns o'er the ashes of an only son, + Takes a sad pleasure the last bones to burn, + And pours in tears, ere yet they close the urn: + So stay'd Achilles, circling round the shore, + So watch'd the flames, till now they flame no more. + 'Twas when, emerging through the shades of night. + The morning planet told the approach of light; + And, fast behind, Aurora's warmer ray + O'er the broad ocean pour'd the golden day: + Then sank the blaze, the pile no longer burn'd, + And to their caves the whistling winds return'd: + Across the Thracian seas their course they bore; + The ruffled seas beneath their passage roar. + + Then parting from the pile he ceased to weep, + And sank to quiet in the embrace of sleep, + Exhausted with his grief: meanwhile the crowd + Of thronging Grecians round Achilles stood; + The tumult waked him: from his eyes he shook + Unwilling slumber, and the chiefs bespoke: + + "Ye kings and princes of the Achaian name! + First let us quench the yet remaining flame + With sable wine; then, as the rites direct, + The hero's bones with careful view select: + (Apart, and easy to be known they lie + Amidst the heap, and obvious to the eye: + The rest around the margin will be seen + Promiscuous, steeds and immolated men:) + These wrapp'd in double cauls of fat, prepare; + And in the golden vase dispose with care; + There let them rest with decent honour laid, + Till I shall follow to the infernal shade. + Meantime erect the tomb with pious hands, + A common structure on the humble sands: + Hereafter Greece some nobler work may raise, + And late posterity record our praise!" + + The Greeks obey; where yet the embers glow, + Wide o'er the pile the sable wine they throw, + And deep subsides the ashy heap below. + Next the white bones his sad companions place, + With tears collected, in the golden vase. + The sacred relics to the tent they bore; + The urn a veil of linen covered o'er. + That done, they bid the sepulchre aspire, + And cast the deep foundations round the pyre; + High in the midst they heap the swelling bed + Of rising earth, memorial of the dead. + + The swarming populace the chief detains, + And leads amidst a wide extent of plains; + There placed them round: then from the ships proceeds + A train of oxen, mules, and stately steeds, + Vases and tripods (for the funeral games), + Resplendent brass, and more resplendent dames. + First stood the prizes to reward the force + Of rapid racers in the dusty course: + A woman for the first, in beauty's bloom, + Skill'd in the needle, and the labouring loom; + And a large vase, where two bright handles rise, + Of twenty measures its capacious size. + The second victor claims a mare unbroke, + Big with a mule, unknowing of the yoke: + The third, a charger yet untouch'd by flame; + Four ample measures held the shining frame: + Two golden talents for the fourth were placed: + An ample double bowl contents the last. + These in fair order ranged upon the plain, + The hero, rising, thus address'd the train: + + "Behold the prizes, valiant Greeks! decreed + To the brave rulers of the racing steed; + Prizes which none beside ourself could gain, + Should our immortal coursers take the plain; + (A race unrivall'd, which from ocean's god + Peleus received, and on his son bestow'd.) + But this no time our vigour to display; + Nor suit, with them, the games of this sad day: + Lost is Patroclus now, that wont to deck + Their flowing manes, and sleek their glossy neck. + Sad, as they shared in human grief, they stand, + And trail those graceful honours on the sand! + Let others for the noble task prepare, + Who trust the courser and the flying car." + + Fired at his word the rival racers rise; + But far the first Eumelus hopes the prize, + Famed though Pieria for the fleetest breed, + And skill'd to manage the high-bounding steed. + With equal ardour bold Tydides swell'd, + The steeds of Tros beneath his yoke compell'd + (Which late obey'd the Dardan chiefs command, + When scarce a god redeem'd him from his hand). + Then Menelaus his Podargus brings, + And the famed courser of the king of kings: + Whom rich Echepolus (more rich than brave), + To 'scape the wars, to Agamemnon gave, + (AEthe her name) at home to end his days; + Base wealth preferring to eternal praise. + Next him Antilochus demands the course + With beating heart, and cheers his Pylian horse. + Experienced Nestor gives his son the reins, + Directs his judgment, and his heat restrains; + Nor idly warns the hoary sire, nor hears + The prudent son with unattending ears. + + "My son! though youthful ardour fire thy breast, + The gods have loved thee, and with arts have bless'd; + Neptune and Jove on thee conferr'd the skill + Swift round the goal to turn the flying wheel. + To guide thy conduct little precept needs; + But slow, and past their vigour, are my steeds. + Fear not thy rivals, though for swiftness known; + Compare those rivals' judgment and thy own: + It is not strength, but art, obtains the prize, + And to be swift is less than to be wise. + 'Tis more by art than force of numerous strokes + The dexterous woodman shapes the stubborn oaks; + By art the pilot, through the boiling deep + And howling tempest, steers the fearless ship; + And 'tis the artist wins the glorious course; + Not those who trust in chariots and in horse. + In vain, unskilful to the goal they strive, + And short, or wide, the ungovern'd courser drive: + While with sure skill, though with inferior steeds, + The knowing racer to his end proceeds; + Fix'd on the goal his eye foreruns the course, + His hand unerring steers the steady horse, + And now contracts, or now extends the rein, + Observing still the foremost on the plain. + Mark then the goal, 'tis easy to be found; + Yon aged trunk, a cubit from the ground; + Of some once stately oak the last remains, + Or hardy fir, unperish'd with the rains: + Inclosed with stones, conspicuous from afar; + And round, a circle for the wheeling car. + (Some tomb perhaps of old, the dead to grace; + Or then, as now, the limit of a race.) + Bear close to this, and warily proceed, + A little bending to the left-hand steed; + But urge the right, and give him all the reins; + While thy strict hand his fellow's head restrains, + And turns him short; till, doubling as they roll, + The wheel's round naves appear to brush the goal. + Yet (not to break the car, or lame the horse) + Clear of the stony heap direct the course; + Lest through incaution failing, thou mayst be + A joy to others, a reproach to me. + So shalt thou pass the goal, secure of mind, + And leave unskilful swiftness far behind: + Though thy fierce rival drove the matchless steed + Which bore Adrastus, of celestial breed; + Or the famed race, through all the regions known, + That whirl'd the car of proud Laomedon." + + Thus (nought unsaid) the much-advising sage + Concludes; then sat, stiff with unwieldy age. + Next bold Meriones was seen to rise, + The last, but not least ardent for the prize. + They mount their seats; the lots their place dispose + (Roll'd in his helmet, these Achilles throws). + Young Nestor leads the race: Eumelus then; + And next the brother of the king of men: + Thy lot, Meriones, the fourth was cast; + And, far the bravest, Diomed, was last. + They stand in order, an impatient train: + Pelides points the barrier on the plain, + And sends before old Phoenix to the place, + To mark the racers, and to judge the race. + At once the coursers from the barrier bound; + The lifted scourges all at once resound; + Their heart, their eyes, their voice, they send before; + And up the champaign thunder from the shore: + Thick, where they drive, the dusty clouds arise, + And the lost courser in the whirlwind flies; + Loose on their shoulders the long manes reclined, + Float in their speed, and dance upon the wind: + The smoking chariots, rapid as they bound, + Now seem to touch the sky, and now the ground. + While hot for fame, and conquest all their care, + (Each o'er his flying courser hung in air,) + Erect with ardour, poised upon the rein, + They pant, they stretch, they shout along the plain. + Now (the last compass fetch'd around the goal) + At the near prize each gathers all his soul, + Each burns with double hope, with double pain, + Tears up the shore, and thunders toward the main. + First flew Eumelus on Pheretian steeds; + With those of Tros bold Diomed succeeds: + Close on Eumelus' back they puff the wind, + And seem just mounting on his car behind; + Full on his neck he feels the sultry breeze, + And, hovering o'er, their stretching shadows sees. + Then had he lost, or left a doubtful prize; + But angry Phoebus to Tydides flies, + Strikes from his hand the scourge, and renders vain + His matchless horses' labour on the plain. + Rage fills his eye with anguish, to survey + Snatch'd from his hope the glories of the day. + The fraud celestial Pallas sees with pain, + Springs to her knight, and gives the scourge again, + And fills his steeds with vigour. At a stroke + She breaks his rival's chariot from the yoke: + No more their way the startled horses held; + The car reversed came rattling on the field; + Shot headlong from his seat, beside the wheel, + Prone on the dust the unhappy master fell; + His batter'd face and elbows strike the ground; + Nose, mouth, and front, one undistinguish'd wound: + Grief stops his voice, a torrent drowns his eyes: + Before him far the glad Tydides flies; + Minerva's spirit drives his matchless pace, + And crowns him victor of the labour'd race. + + The next, though distant, Menelaus succeeds; + While thus young Nestor animates his steeds: + "Now, now, my generous pair, exert your force; + Not that we hope to match Tydides' horse, + Since great Minerva wings their rapid way, + And gives their lord the honours of the day; + But reach Atrides! shall his mare outgo + Your swiftness? vanquish'd by a female foe? + Through your neglect, if lagging on the plain + The last ignoble gift be all we gain, + No more shall Nestor's hand your food supply, + The old man's fury rises, and ye die. + Haste then: yon narrow road, before our sight, + Presents the occasion, could we use it right." + + Thus he. The coursers at their master's threat + With quicker steps the sounding champaign beat. + And now Antilochus with nice survey + Observes the compass of the hollow way. + 'Twas where, by force of wintry torrents torn, + Fast by the road a precipice was worn: + Here, where but one could pass, to shun the throng + The Spartan hero's chariot smoked along. + Close up the venturous youth resolves to keep, + Still edging near, and bears him toward the steep. + Atrides, trembling, casts his eye below, + And wonders at the rashness of his foe. + "Hold, stay your steeds--What madness thus to ride + This narrow way! take larger field (he cried), + Or both must fall."--Atrides cried in vain; + He flies more fast, and throws up all the rein. + Far as an able arm the disk can send, + When youthful rivals their full force extend, + So far, Antilochus! thy chariot flew + Before the king: he, cautious, backward drew + His horse compell'd; foreboding in his fears + The rattling ruin of the clashing cars, + The floundering coursers rolling on the plain, + And conquest lost through frantic haste to gain. + But thus upbraids his rival as he flies: + "Go, furious youth! ungenerous and unwise! + Go, but expect not I'll the prize resign; + Add perjury to fraud, and make it thine--" + Then to his steeds with all his force he cries, + "Be swift, be vigorous, and regain the prize! + Your rivals, destitute of youthful force, + With fainting knees shall labour in the course, + And yield the glory yours."--The steeds obey; + Already at their heels they wing their way, + And seem already to retrieve the day. + + Meantime the Grecians in a ring beheld + The coursers bounding o'er the dusty field. + The first who mark'd them was the Cretan king; + High on a rising ground, above the ring, + The monarch sat: from whence with sure survey + He well observed the chief who led the way, + And heard from far his animating cries, + And saw the foremost steed with sharpen'd eyes; + On whose broad front a blaze of shining white, + Like the full moon, stood obvious to the sight. + He saw; and rising, to the Greeks begun: + "Are yonder horse discern'd by me alone? + Or can ye, all, another chief survey, + And other steeds than lately led the way? + Those, though the swiftest, by some god withheld, + Lie sure disabled in the middle field: + For, since the goal they doubled, round the plain + I search to find them, but I search in vain. + Perchance the reins forsook the driver's hand, + And, turn'd too short, he tumbled on the strand, + Shot from the chariot; while his coursers stray + With frantic fury from the destined way. + Rise then some other, and inform my sight, + For these dim eyes, perhaps, discern not right; + Yet sure he seems, to judge by shape and air, + The great AEtolian chief, renown'd in war." + + "Old man! (Oileus rashly thus replies) + Thy tongue too hastily confers the prize; + Of those who view the course, nor sharpest eyed, + Nor youngest, yet the readiest to decide. + Eumelus' steeds, high bounding in the chase, + Still, as at first, unrivall'd lead the race: + I well discern him, as he shakes the rein, + And hear his shouts victorious o'er the plain." + + Thus he. Idomeneus, incensed, rejoin'd: + "Barbarous of words! and arrogant of mind! + Contentious prince, of all the Greeks beside + The last in merit, as the first in pride! + To vile reproach what answer can we make? + A goblet or a tripod let us stake, + And be the king the judge. The most unwise + Will learn their rashness, when they pay the price." + + He said: and Ajax, by mad passion borne, + Stern had replied; fierce scorn enhancing scorn + To fell extremes. But Thetis' godlike son + Awful amidst them rose, and thus begun: + + "Forbear, ye chiefs! reproachful to contend; + Much would ye blame, should others thus offend: + And lo! the approaching steeds your contest end." + No sooner had he spoke, but thundering near, + Drives, through a stream of dust, the charioteer. + High o'er his head the circling lash he wields: + His bounding horses scarcely touch the fields: + His car amidst the dusty whirlwind roll'd, + Bright with the mingled blaze of tin and gold, + Refulgent through the cloud: no eye could find + The track his flying wheels had left behind: + And the fierce coursers urged their rapid pace + So swift, it seem'd a flight, and not a race. + Now victor at the goal Tydides stands, + Quits his bright car, and springs upon the sands; + From the hot steeds the sweaty torrents stream; + The well-plied whip is hung athwart the beam: + With joy brave Sthenelus receives the prize, + The tripod-vase, and dame with radiant eyes: + These to the ships his train triumphant leads, + The chief himself unyokes the panting steeds. + + Young Nestor follows (who by art, not force, + O'erpass'd Atrides) second in the course. + Behind, Atrides urged the race, more near + Than to the courser in his swift career + The following car, just touching with his heel + And brushing with his tail the whirling wheel: + Such, and so narrow now the space between + The rivals, late so distant on the green; + So soon swift AEthe her lost ground regain'd, + One length, one moment, had the race obtain'd. + + Merion pursued, at greater distance still, + With tardier coursers, and inferior skill. + Last came, Admetus! thy unhappy son; + Slow dragged the steeds his batter'd chariot on: + Achilles saw, and pitying thus begun: + + "Behold! the man whose matchless art surpass'd + The sons of Greece! the ablest, yet the last! + Fortune denies, but justice bids us pay + (Since great Tydides bears the first away) + To him the second honours of the day." + + The Greeks consent with loud-applauding cries, + And then Eumelus had received the prize, + But youthful Nestor, jealous of his fame, + The award opposes, and asserts his claim. + "Think not (he cries) I tamely will resign, + O Peleus' son! the mare so justly mine. + What if the gods, the skilful to confound, + Have thrown the horse and horseman to the ground? + Perhaps he sought not heaven by sacrifice, + And vows omitted forfeited the prize. + If yet (distinction to thy friend to show, + And please a soul desirous to bestow) + Some gift must grace Eumelus, view thy store + Of beauteous handmaids, steeds, and shining ore; + An ample present let him thence receive, + And Greece shall praise thy generous thirst to give. + But this my prize I never shall forego; + This, who but touches, warriors! is my foe." + + Thus spake the youth; nor did his words offend; + Pleased with the well-turn'd flattery of a friend, + Achilles smiled: "The gift proposed (he cried), + Antilochus! we shall ourself provide. + With plates of brass the corslet cover'd o'er, + (The same renown'd Asteropaeus wore,) + Whose glittering margins raised with silver shine, + (No vulgar gift,) Eumelus! shall be thine." + + He said: Automedon at his command + The corslet brought, and gave it to his hand. + Distinguish'd by his friend, his bosom glows + With generous joy: then Menelaus rose; + The herald placed the sceptre in his hands, + And still'd the clamour of the shouting bands. + Not without cause incensed at Nestor's son, + And inly grieving, thus the king begun: + + "The praise of wisdom, in thy youth obtain'd, + An act so rash, Antilochus! has stain'd. + Robb'd of my glory and my just reward, + To you, O Grecians! be my wrong declared: + So not a leader shall our conduct blame, + Or judge me envious of a rival's fame. + But shall not we, ourselves, the truth maintain? + What needs appealing in a fact so plain? + What Greek shall blame me, if I bid thee rise, + And vindicate by oath th' ill-gotten prize? + Rise if thou darest, before thy chariot stand, + The driving scourge high-lifted in thy hand; + And touch thy steeds, and swear thy whole intent + Was but to conquer, not to circumvent. + Swear by that god whose liquid arms surround + The globe, and whose dread earthquakes heave the ground!" + + The prudent chief with calm attention heard; + Then mildly thus: "Excuse, if youth have err'd; + Superior as thou art, forgive the offence, + Nor I thy equal, or in years, or sense. + Thou know'st the errors of unripen'd age, + Weak are its counsels, headlong is its rage. + The prize I quit, if thou thy wrath resign; + The mare, or aught thou ask'st, be freely thine + Ere I become (from thy dear friendship torn) + Hateful to thee, and to the gods forsworn." + + So spoke Antilochus; and at the word + The mare contested to the king restored. + Joy swells his soul: as when the vernal grain + Lifts the green ear above the springing plain, + The fields their vegetable life renew, + And laugh and glitter with the morning dew; + Such joy the Spartan's shining face o'erspread, + And lifted his gay heart, while thus he said: + + "Still may our souls, O generous youth! agree + 'Tis now Atrides' turn to yield to thee. + Rash heat perhaps a moment might control, + Not break, the settled temper of thy soul. + Not but (my friend) 'tis still the wiser way + To waive contention with superior sway; + For ah! how few, who should like thee offend, + Like thee, have talents to regain the friend! + To plead indulgence, and thy fault atone, + Suffice thy father's merit and thy own: + Generous alike, for me, the sire and son + Have greatly suffer'd, and have greatly done. + I yield; that all may know, my soul can bend, + Nor is my pride preferr'd before my friend." + + He said; and pleased his passion to command, + Resign'd the courser to Noemon's hand, + Friend of the youthful chief: himself content, + The shining charger to his vessel sent. + The golden talents Merion next obtain'd; + The fifth reward, the double bowl, remain'd. + Achilles this to reverend Nestor bears. + And thus the purpose of his gift declares: + "Accept thou this, O sacred sire! (he said) + In dear memorial of Patroclus dead; + Dead and for ever lost Patroclus lies, + For ever snatch'd from our desiring eyes! + Take thou this token of a grateful heart, + Though 'tis not thine to hurl the distant dart, + The quoit to toss, the ponderous mace to wield, + Or urge the race, or wrestle on the field: + Thy pristine vigour age has overthrown, + But left the glory of the past thy own." + + He said, and placed the goblet at his side; + With joy the venerable king replied: + + "Wisely and well, my son, thy words have proved + A senior honour'd, and a friend beloved! + Too true it is, deserted of my strength, + These wither'd arms and limbs have fail'd at length. + Oh! had I now that force I felt of yore, + Known through Buprasium and the Pylian shore! + Victorious then in every solemn game, + Ordain'd to Amarynces' mighty name; + The brave Epeians gave my glory way, + AEtolians, Pylians, all resign'd the day. + I quell'd Clytomedes in fights of hand, + And backward hurl'd Ancaeus on the sand, + Surpass'd Iphyclus in the swift career, + Phyleus and Polydorus with the spear. + The sons of Actor won the prize of horse, + But won by numbers, not by art or force: + For the famed twins, impatient to survey + Prize after prize by Nestor borne away, + Sprung to their car; and with united pains + One lash'd the coursers, while one ruled the reins. + Such once I was! Now to these tasks succeeds + A younger race, that emulate our deeds: + I yield, alas! (to age who must not yield?) + Though once the foremost hero of the field. + Go thou, my son! by generous friendship led, + With martial honours decorate the dead: + While pleased I take the gift thy hands present, + (Pledge of benevolence, and kind intent,) + Rejoiced, of all the numerous Greeks, to see + Not one but honours sacred age and me: + Those due distinctions thou so well canst pay, + May the just gods return another day!" + + Proud of the gift, thus spake the full of days: + Achilles heard him, prouder of the praise. + + The prizes next are order'd to the field, + For the bold champions who the caestus wield. + A stately mule, as yet by toils unbroke, + Of six years' age, unconscious of the yoke, + Is to the circus led, and firmly bound; + Next stands a goblet, massy, large, and round. + Achilles rising, thus: "Let Greece excite + Two heroes equal to this hardy fight; + Who dare the foe with lifted arms provoke, + And rush beneath the long-descending stroke. + On whom Apollo shall the palm bestow, + And whom the Greeks supreme by conquest know, + This mule his dauntless labours shall repay, + The vanquish'd bear the massy bowl away." + + This dreadful combat great Epeus chose;(291) + High o'er the crowd, enormous bulk! he rose, + And seized the beast, and thus began to say: + "Stand forth some man, to bear the bowl away! + (Price of his ruin: for who dares deny + This mule my right; the undoubted victor I) + Others, 'tis own'd, in fields of battle shine, + But the first honours of this fight are mine; + For who excels in all? Then let my foe + Draw near, but first his certain fortune know; + Secure this hand shall his whole frame confound, + Mash all his bones, and all his body pound: + So let his friends be nigh, a needful train, + To heave the batter'd carcase off the plain." + + The giant spoke; and in a stupid gaze + The host beheld him, silent with amaze! + 'Twas thou, Euryalus! who durst aspire + To meet his might, and emulate thy sire, + The great Mecistheus; who in days of yore + In Theban games the noblest trophy bore, + (The games ordain'd dead OEdipus to grace,) + And singly vanquish the Cadmean race. + Him great Tydides urges to contend, + Warm with the hopes of conquest for his friend; + Officious with the cincture girds him round; + And to his wrist the gloves of death are bound. + Amid the circle now each champion stands, + And poises high in air his iron hands; + With clashing gauntlets now they fiercely close, + Their crackling jaws re-echo to the blows, + And painful sweat from all their members flows. + At length Epeus dealt a weighty blow + Full on the cheek of his unwary foe; + Beneath that ponderous arm's resistless sway + Down dropp'd he, nerveless, and extended lay. + As a large fish, when winds and waters roar, + By some huge billow dash'd against the shore, + Lies panting; not less batter'd with his wound, + The bleeding hero pants upon the ground. + To rear his fallen foe, the victor lends, + Scornful, his hand; and gives him to his friends; + Whose arms support him, reeling through the throng, + And dragging his disabled legs along; + Nodding, his head hangs down his shoulder o'er; + His mouth and nostrils pour the clotted gore;(292) + Wrapp'd round in mists he lies, and lost to thought; + His friends receive the bowl, too dearly bought. + + The third bold game Achilles next demands, + And calls the wrestlers to the level sands: + A massy tripod for the victor lies, + Of twice six oxen its reputed price; + And next, the loser's spirits to restore, + A female captive, valued but at four. + Scarce did the chief the vigorous strife prop + When tower-like Ajax and Ulysses rose. + Amid the ring each nervous rival stands, + Embracing rigid with implicit hands. + Close lock'd above, their heads and arms are mix'd: + Below, their planted feet at distance fix'd; + Like two strong rafters which the builder forms, + Proof to the wintry winds and howling storms, + Their tops connected, but at wider space + Fix'd on the centre stands their solid base. + Now to the grasp each manly body bends; + The humid sweat from every pore descends; + Their bones resound with blows: sides, shoulders, thighs + Swell to each gripe, and bloody tumours rise. + Nor could Ulysses, for his art renown'd, + O'erturn the strength of Ajax on the ground; + Nor could the strength of Ajax overthrow + The watchful caution of his artful foe. + While the long strife even tired the lookers on, + Thus to Ulysses spoke great Telamon: + "Or let me lift thee, chief, or lift thou me: + Prove we our force, and Jove the rest decree." + + He said; and, straining, heaved him off the ground + With matchless strength; that time Ulysses found + The strength to evade, and where the nerves combine + His ankle struck: the giant fell supine; + Ulysses, following, on his bosom lies; + Shouts of applause run rattling through the skies. + Ajax to lift Ulysses next essays; + He barely stirr'd him, but he could not raise: + His knee lock'd fast, the foe's attempt denied; + And grappling close, they tumbled side by side. + Defiled with honourable dust they roll, + Still breathing strife, and unsubdued of soul: + Again they rage, again to combat rise; + When great Achilles thus divides the prize: + + "Your noble vigour, O my friends, restrain; + Nor weary out your generous strength in vain. + Ye both have won: let others who excel, + Now prove that prowess you have proved so well." + + The hero's words the willing chiefs obey, + From their tired bodies wipe the dust away, + And, clothed anew, the following games survey. + + And now succeed the gifts ordain'd to grace + The youths contending in the rapid race: + A silver urn that full six measures held, + By none in weight or workmanship excell'd: + Sidonian artists taught the frame to shine, + Elaborate, with artifice divine; + Whence Tyrian sailors did the prize transport, + And gave to Thoas at the Lemnian port: + From him descended, good Eunaeus heir'd + The glorious gift; and, for Lycaon spared, + To brave Patroclus gave the rich reward: + Now, the same hero's funeral rites to grace, + It stands the prize of swiftness in the race. + A well-fed ox was for the second placed; + And half a talent must content the last. + Achilles rising then bespoke the train: + "Who hope the palm of swiftness to obtain, + Stand forth, and bear these prizes from the plain." + + The hero said, and starting from his place, + Oilean Ajax rises to the race; + Ulysses next; and he whose speed surpass'd + His youthful equals, Nestor's son, the last. + Ranged in a line the ready racers stand; + Pelides points the barrier with his hand; + All start at once; Oileus led the race; + The next Ulysses, measuring pace with pace; + Behind him, diligently close, he sped, + As closely following as the running thread + The spindle follows, and displays the charms + Of the fair spinster's breast and moving arms: + Graceful in motion thus, his foe he plies, + And treads each footstep ere the dust can rise; + His glowing breath upon his shoulders plays: + The admiring Greeks loud acclamations raise: + To him they give their wishes, hearts, and eyes, + And send their souls before him as he flies. + Now three times turn'd in prospect of the goal, + The panting chief to Pallas lifts his soul: + "Assist, O goddess!" thus in thought he pray'd! + And present at his thought descends the maid. + Buoy'd by her heavenly force, he seems to swim, + And feels a pinion lifting every limb. + All fierce, and ready now the prize to gain, + Unhappy Ajax stumbles on the plain + (O'erturn'd by Pallas), where the slippery shore + Was clogg'd with slimy dung and mingled gore. + (The self-same place beside Patroclus' pyre, + Where late the slaughter'd victims fed the fire.) + Besmear'd with filth, and blotted o'er with clay, + Obscene to sight, the rueful racer lay; + The well-fed bull (the second prize) he shared, + And left the urn Ulysses' rich reward. + Then, grasping by the horn the mighty beast, + The baffled hero thus the Greeks address'd: + + "Accursed fate! the conquest I forego; + A mortal I, a goddess was my foe; + She urged her favourite on the rapid way, + And Pallas, not Ulysses, won the day." + + Thus sourly wail'd he, sputtering dirt and gore; + A burst of laughter echoed through the shore. + Antilochus, more humorous than the rest, + Takes the last prize, and takes it with a jest: + + "Why with our wiser elders should we strive? + The gods still love them, and they always thrive. + Ye see, to Ajax I must yield the prize: + He to Ulysses, still more aged and wise; + (A green old age unconscious of decays, + That proves the hero born in better days!) + Behold his vigour in this active race! + Achilles only boasts a swifter pace: + For who can match Achilles? He who can, + Must yet be more than hero, more than man." + + The effect succeeds the speech. Pelides cries, + "Thy artful praise deserves a better prize. + Nor Greece in vain shall hear thy friend extoll'd; + Receive a talent of the purest gold." + The youth departs content. The host admire + The son of Nestor, worthy of his sire. + + Next these a buckler, spear, and helm, he brings; + Cast on the plain, the brazen burden rings: + Arms which of late divine Sarpedon wore, + And great Patroclus in short triumph bore. + "Stand forth the bravest of our host! (he cries) + Whoever dares deserve so rich a prize, + Now grace the lists before our army's sight, + And sheathed in steel, provoke his foe to fight. + Who first the jointed armour shall explore, + And stain his rival's mail with issuing gore, + The sword Asteropaeus possess'd of old, + (A Thracian blade, distinct with studs of gold,) + Shall pay the stroke, and grace the striker's side: + These arms in common let the chiefs divide: + For each brave champion, when the combat ends, + A sumptuous banquet at our tents attends." + + Fierce at the word uprose great Tydeus' son, + And the huge bulk of Ajax Telamon. + Clad in refulgent steel, on either hand, + The dreadful chiefs amid the circle stand; + Louring they meet, tremendous to the sight; + Each Argive bosom beats with fierce delight. + Opposed in arms not long they idly stood, + But thrice they closed, and thrice the charge renew'd. + A furious pass the spear of Ajax made + Through the broad shield, but at the corslet stay'd. + Not thus the foe: his javelin aim'd above + The buckler's margin, at the neck he drove. + But Greece, now trembling for her hero's life, + Bade share the honours, and surcease the strife. + Yet still the victor's due Tydides gains, + With him the sword and studded belt remains. + + Then hurl'd the hero, thundering on the ground, + A mass of iron (an enormous round), + Whose weight and size the circling Greeks admire, + Rude from the furnace, and but shaped by fire. + This mighty quoit Aetion wont to rear, + And from his whirling arm dismiss in air; + The giant by Achilles slain, he stow'd + Among his spoils this memorable load. + For this, he bids those nervous artists vie, + That teach the disk to sound along the sky. + "Let him, whose might can hurl this bowl, arise; + Who farthest hurls it, take it as his prize; + If he be one enrich'd with large domain + Of downs for flocks, and arable for grain, + Small stock of iron needs that man provide; + His hinds and swains whole years shall be supplied + From hence; nor ask the neighbouring city's aid + For ploughshares, wheels, and all the rural trade." + + Stern Polypoetes stepp'd before the throng, + And great Leonteus, more than mortal strong; + Whose force with rival forces to oppose, + Uprose great Ajax; up Epeus rose. + Each stood in order: first Epeus threw; + High o'er the wondering crowds the whirling circle flew. + Leonteus next a little space surpass'd; + And third, the strength of godlike Ajax cast. + O'er both their marks it flew; till fiercely flung + From Polypoetes' arm the discus sung: + Far as a swain his whirling sheephook throws, + That distant falls among the grazing cows, + So past them all the rapid circle flies: + His friends, while loud applauses shake the skies, + With force conjoin'd heave off the weighty prize. + + Those, who in skilful archery contend, + He next invites the twanging bow to bend; + And twice ten axes casts amidst the round, + Ten double-edged, and ten that singly wound + The mast, which late a first-rate galley bore, + The hero fixes in the sandy shore; + To the tall top a milk-white dove they tie, + The trembling mark at which their arrows fly. + + "Whose weapon strikes yon fluttering bird, shall bear + These two-edged axes, terrible in war; + The single, he whose shaft divides the cord." + He said: experienced Merion took the word; + And skilful Teucer: in the helm they threw + Their lots inscribed, and forth the latter flew. + Swift from the string the sounding arrow flies; + But flies unbless'd! No grateful sacrifice, + No firstling lambs, unheedful! didst thou vow + To Phoebus, patron of the shaft and bow. + For this, thy well-aim'd arrow turn'd aside, + Err'd from the dove, yet cut the cord that tied: + Adown the mainmast fell the parted string, + And the free bird to heaven displays her wing: + Sea, shores, and skies, with loud applause resound, + And Merion eager meditates the wound: + He takes the bow, directs the shaft above, + And following with his eye the soaring dove, + Implores the god to speed it through the skies, + With vows of firstling lambs, and grateful sacrific + The dove, in airy circles as she wheels, + Amid the clouds the piercing arrow feels; + Quite through and through the point its passage found, + And at his feet fell bloody to the ground. + The wounded bird, ere yet she breathed her last, + With flagging wings alighted on the mast, + A moment hung, and spread her pinions there, + Then sudden dropp'd, and left her life in air. + From the pleased crowd new peals of thunder rise, + And to the ships brave Merion bears the prize. + + To close the funeral games, Achilles last + A massy spear amid the circle placed, + And ample charger of unsullied frame, + With flowers high-wrought, not blacken'd yet by flame. + For these he bids the heroes prove their art, + Whose dexterous skill directs the flying dart. + Here too great Merion hopes the noble prize; + Nor here disdain'd the king of men to rise. + With joy Pelides saw the honour paid, + Rose to the monarch, and respectful said: + + "Thee first in virtue, as in power supreme, + O king of nations! all thy Greeks proclaim; + In every martial game thy worth attest, + And know thee both their greatest and their best. + Take then the prize, but let brave Merion bear + This beamy javelin in thy brother's war." + + Pleased from the hero's lips his praise to hear, + The king to Merion gives the brazen spear: + But, set apart for sacred use, commands + The glittering charger to Talthybius' hands. + + [Illustration: CERES.] + + CERES. + + + + + +BOOK XXIV. + + +ARGUMENT. + +THE REDEMPTION OF THE BODY OF HECTOR. + +The gods deliberate about the redemption of Hector's body. Jupiter sends +Thetis to Achilles, to dispose him for the restoring it, and Iris to +Priam, to encourage him to go in person and treat for it. The old king, +notwithstanding the remonstrances of his queen, makes ready for the +journey, to which he is encouraged by an omen from Jupiter. He sets forth +in his chariot, with a waggon loaded with presents, under the charge of +Idaeus the herald. Mercury descends in the shape of a young man, and +conducts him to the pavilion of Achilles. Their conversation on the way. +Priam finds Achilles at his table, casts himself at his feet, and begs for +the body of his son: Achilles, moved with compassion, grants his request, +detains him one night in his tent, and the next morning sends him home +with the body: the Trojans run out to meet him. The lamentations of +Andromache, Hecuba, and Helen, with the solemnities of the funeral. + +The time of twelve days is employed in this book, while the body of Hector +lies in the tent of Achilles; and as many more are spent in the truce +allowed for his interment. The scene is partly in Achilles' camp, and +partly in Troy. + + Now from the finish'd games the Grecian band + Seek their black ships, and clear the crowded strand, + All stretch'd at ease the genial banquet share, + And pleasing slumbers quiet all their care. + Not so Achilles: he, to grief resign'd, + His friend's dear image present to his mind, + Takes his sad couch, more unobserved to weep; + Nor tastes the gifts of all-composing sleep. + Restless he roll'd around his weary bed, + And all his soul on his Patroclus fed: + The form so pleasing, and the heart so kind, + That youthful vigour, and that manly mind, + What toils they shared, what martial works they wrought, + What seas they measured, and what fields they fought; + All pass'd before him in remembrance dear, + Thought follows thought, and tear succeeds to tear. + And now supine, now prone, the hero lay, + Now shifts his side, impatient for the day: + Then starting up, disconsolate he goes + Wide on the lonely beach to vent his woes. + There as the solitary mourner raves, + The ruddy morning rises o'er the waves: + Soon as it rose, his furious steeds he join'd! + The chariot flies, and Hector trails behind. + And thrice, Patroclus! round thy monument + Was Hector dragg'd, then hurried to the tent. + There sleep at last o'ercomes the hero's eyes; + While foul in dust the unhonour'd carcase lies, + But not deserted by the pitying skies: + For Phoebus watch'd it with superior care, + Preserved from gaping wounds and tainting air; + And, ignominious as it swept the field, + Spread o'er the sacred corse his golden shield. + All heaven was moved, and Hermes will'd to go + By stealth to snatch him from the insulting foe: + But Neptune this, and Pallas this denies, + And th' unrelenting empress of the skies, + E'er since that day implacable to Troy, + What time young Paris, simple shepherd boy, + Won by destructive lust (reward obscene), + Their charms rejected for the Cyprian queen. + But when the tenth celestial morning broke, + To heaven assembled, thus Apollo spoke: + + [Illustration: HECTOR'S BODY AT THE CAR OF ACHILLES.] + + HECTOR'S BODY AT THE CAR OF ACHILLES. + + + "Unpitying powers! how oft each holy fane + Has Hector tinged with blood of victims slain? + And can ye still his cold remains pursue? + Still grudge his body to the Trojans' view? + Deny to consort, mother, son, and sire, + The last sad honours of a funeral fire? + Is then the dire Achilles all your care? + That iron heart, inflexibly severe; + A lion, not a man, who slaughters wide, + In strength of rage, and impotence of pride; + Who hastes to murder with a savage joy, + Invades around, and breathes but to destroy! + Shame is not of his soul; nor understood, + The greatest evil and the greatest good. + Still for one loss he rages unresign'd, + Repugnant to the lot of all mankind; + To lose a friend, a brother, or a son, + Heaven dooms each mortal, and its will is done: + Awhile they sorrow, then dismiss their care; + Fate gives the wound, and man is born to bear. + But this insatiate, the commission given + By fate exceeds, and tempts the wrath of heaven: + Lo, how his rage dishonest drags along + Hector's dead earth, insensible of wrong! + Brave though he be, yet by no reason awed, + He violates the laws of man and god." + + [Illustration: THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS.] + + THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS. + + + "If equal honours by the partial skies + Are doom'd both heroes, (Juno thus replies,) + If Thetis' son must no distinction know, + Then hear, ye gods! the patron of the bow. + But Hector only boasts a mortal claim, + His birth deriving from a mortal dame: + Achilles, of your own ethereal race, + Springs from a goddess by a man's embrace + (A goddess by ourself to Peleus given, + A man divine, and chosen friend of heaven) + To grace those nuptials, from the bright abode + Yourselves were present; where this minstrel-god, + Well pleased to share the feast, amid the quire + Stood proud to hymn, and tune his youthful lyre." + + Then thus the Thunderer checks the imperial dame: + "Let not thy wrath the court of heaven inflame; + Their merits, nor their honours, are the same. + But mine, and every god's peculiar grace + Hector deserves, of all the Trojan race: + Still on our shrines his grateful offerings lay, + (The only honours men to gods can pay,) + Nor ever from our smoking altar ceased + The pure libation, and the holy feast: + Howe'er by stealth to snatch the corse away, + We will not: Thetis guards it night and day. + But haste, and summon to our courts above + The azure queen; let her persuasion move + Her furious son from Priam to receive + The proffer'd ransom, and the corse to leave." + + He added not: and Iris from the skies, + Swift as a whirlwind, on the message flies, + Meteorous the face of ocean sweeps, + Refulgent gliding o'er the sable deeps. + Between where Samos wide his forests spreads, + And rocky Imbrus lifts its pointed heads, + Down plunged the maid; (the parted waves resound;) + She plunged and instant shot the dark profound. + As bearing death in the fallacious bait, + From the bent angle sinks the leaden weight; + So pass'd the goddess through the closing wave, + Where Thetis sorrow'd in her secret cave: + There placed amidst her melancholy train + (The blue-hair'd sisters of the sacred main) + Pensive she sat, revolving fates to come, + And wept her godlike son's approaching doom. + Then thus the goddess of the painted bow: + "Arise, O Thetis! from thy seats below, + 'Tis Jove that calls."--"And why (the dame replies) + Calls Jove his Thetis to the hated skies? + Sad object as I am for heavenly sight! + Ah may my sorrows ever shun the light! + Howe'er, be heaven's almighty sire obey'd--" + She spake, and veil'd her head in sable shade, + Which, flowing long, her graceful person clad; + And forth she paced, majestically sad. + + Then through the world of waters they repair + (The way fair Iris led) to upper air. + The deeps dividing, o'er the coast they rise, + And touch with momentary flight the skies. + There in the lightning's blaze the sire they found, + And all the gods in shining synod round. + Thetis approach'd with anguish in her face, + (Minerva rising, gave the mourner place,) + Even Juno sought her sorrows to console, + And offer'd from her hand the nectar-bowl: + She tasted, and resign'd it: then began + The sacred sire of gods and mortal man: + + "Thou comest, fair Thetis, but with grief o'ercast; + Maternal sorrows; long, ah, long to last! + Suffice, we know and we partake thy cares; + But yield to fate, and hear what Jove declares + Nine days are past since all the court above + In Hector's cause have moved the ear of Jove; + 'Twas voted, Hermes from his godlike foe + By stealth should bear him, but we will'd not so: + We will, thy son himself the corse restore, + And to his conquest add this glory more. + Then hie thee to him, and our mandate bear: + Tell him he tempts the wrath of heaven too far; + Nor let him more (our anger if he dread) + Vent his mad vengeance on the sacred dead; + But yield to ransom and the father's prayer; + The mournful father, Iris shall prepare + With gifts to sue; and offer to his hands + Whate'er his honour asks, or heart demands." + + His word the silver-footed queen attends, + And from Olympus' snowy tops descends. + Arrived, she heard the voice of loud lament, + And echoing groans that shook the lofty tent: + His friends prepare the victim, and dispose + Repast unheeded, while he vents his woes; + The goddess seats her by her pensive son, + She press'd his hand, and tender thus begun: + + "How long, unhappy! shall thy sorrows flow, + And thy heart waste with life-consuming woe: + Mindless of food, or love, whose pleasing reign + Soothes weary life, and softens human pain? + O snatch the moments yet within thy power; + Not long to live, indulge the amorous hour! + Lo! Jove himself (for Jove's command I bear) + Forbids to tempt the wrath of heaven too far. + No longer then (his fury if thou dread) + Detain the relics of great Hector dead; + Nor vent on senseless earth thy vengeance vain, + But yield to ransom, and restore the slain." + + To whom Achilles: "Be the ransom given, + And we submit, since such the will of heaven." + + While thus they communed, from the Olympian bowers + Jove orders Iris to the Trojan towers: + "Haste, winged goddess! to the sacred town, + And urge her monarch to redeem his son. + Alone the Ilian ramparts let him leave, + And bear what stern Achilles may receive: + Alone, for so we will; no Trojan near + Except, to place the dead with decent care, + Some aged herald, who with gentle hand + May the slow mules and funeral car command. + Nor let him death, nor let him danger dread, + Safe through the foe by our protection led: + Him Hermes to Achilles shall convey, + Guard of his life, and partner of his way. + Fierce as he is, Achilles' self shall spare + His age, nor touch one venerable hair: + Some thought there must be in a soul so brave, + Some sense of duty, some desire to save." + + [Illustration: IRIS ADVISES PRIAM TO OBTAIN THE BODY OF HECTOR.] + + IRIS ADVISES PRIAM TO OBTAIN THE BODY OF HECTOR. + + + Then down her bow the winged Iris drives, + And swift at Priam's mournful court arrives: + Where the sad sons beside their father's throne + Sat bathed in tears, and answer'd groan with groan. + And all amidst them lay the hoary sire, + (Sad scene of woe!) his face his wrapp'd attire + Conceal'd from sight; with frantic hands he spread + A shower of ashes o'er his neck and head. + From room to room his pensive daughters roam; + Whose shrieks and clamours fill the vaulted dome; + Mindful of those, who late their pride and joy, + Lie pale and breathless round the fields of Troy! + Before the king Jove's messenger appears, + And thus in whispers greets his trembling ears: + + "Fear not, O father! no ill news I bear; + From Jove I come, Jove makes thee still his care; + For Hector's sake these walls he bids thee leave, + And bear what stern Achilles may receive; + Alone, for so he wills; no Trojan near, + Except, to place the dead with decent care, + Some aged herald, who with gentle hand + May the slow mules and funeral car command. + Nor shalt thou death, nor shall thou danger dread: + Safe through the foe by his protection led: + Thee Hermes to Pelides shall convey, + Guard of thy life, and partner of thy way. + Fierce as he is, Achilles' self shall spare + Thy age, nor touch one venerable hair; + Some thought there must be in a soul so brave, + Some sense of duty, some desire to save." + + She spoke, and vanish'd. Priam bids prepare + His gentle mules and harness to the car; + There, for the gifts, a polish'd casket lay: + His pious sons the king's command obey. + Then pass'd the monarch to his bridal-room, + Where cedar-beams the lofty roofs perfume, + And where the treasures of his empire lay; + Then call'd his queen, and thus began to say: + + "Unhappy consort of a king distress'd! + Partake the troubles of thy husband's breast: + I saw descend the messenger of Jove, + Who bids me try Achilles' mind to move; + Forsake these ramparts, and with gifts obtain + The corse of Hector, at yon navy slain. + Tell me thy thought: my heart impels to go + Through hostile camps, and bears me to the foe." + + The hoary monarch thus. Her piercing cries + Sad Hecuba renews, and then replies: + "Ah! whither wanders thy distemper'd mind? + And where the prudence now that awed mankind? + Through Phrygia once and foreign regions known; + Now all confused, distracted, overthrown! + Singly to pass through hosts of foes! to face + (O heart of steel!) the murderer of thy race! + To view that deathful eye, and wander o'er + Those hands yet red with Hector's noble gore! + Alas! my lord! he knows not how to spare. + And what his mercy, thy slain sons declare; + So brave! so many fallen! To claim his rage + Vain were thy dignity, and vain thy age. + No--pent in this sad palace, let us give + To grief the wretched days we have to live. + Still, still for Hector let our sorrows flow, + Born to his own, and to his parents' woe! + Doom'd from the hour his luckless life begun, + To dogs, to vultures, and to Peleus' son! + Oh! in his dearest blood might I allay + My rage, and these barbarities repay! + For ah! could Hector merit thus, whose breath + Expired not meanly, in unactive death? + He poured his latest blood in manly fight, + And fell a hero in his country's right." + + "Seek not to stay me, nor my soul affright + With words of omen, like a bird of night, + (Replied unmoved the venerable man;) + 'Tis heaven commands me, and you urge in vain. + Had any mortal voice the injunction laid, + Nor augur, priest, nor seer, had been obey'd. + A present goddess brought the high command, + I saw, I heard her, and the word shall stand. + I go, ye gods! obedient to your call: + If in yon camp your powers have doom'd my fall, + Content--By the same hand let me expire! + Add to the slaughter'd son the wretched sire! + One cold embrace at least may be allow'd, + And my last tears flow mingled with his blood!" + + From forth his open'd stores, this said, he drew + Twelve costly carpets of refulgent hue, + As many vests, as many mantles told, + And twelve fair veils, and garments stiff with gold, + Two tripods next, and twice two chargers shine, + With ten pure talents from the richest mine; + And last a large well-labour'd bowl had place, + (The pledge of treaties once with friendly Thrace:) + Seem'd all too mean the stores he could employ, + For one last look to buy him back to Troy! + + Lo! the sad father, frantic with his pain, + Around him furious drives his menial train: + In vain each slave with duteous care attends, + Each office hurts him, and each face offends. + "What make ye here, officious crowds! (he cries). + Hence! nor obtrude your anguish on my eyes. + Have ye no griefs at home, to fix ye there: + Am I the only object of despair? + Am I become my people's common show, + Set up by Jove your spectacle of woe? + No, you must feel him too; yourselves must fall; + The same stern god to ruin gives you all: + Nor is great Hector lost by me alone; + Your sole defence, your guardian power is gone! + I see your blood the fields of Phrygia drown, + I see the ruins of your smoking town! + O send me, gods! ere that sad day shall come, + A willing ghost to Pluto's dreary dome!" + + He said, and feebly drives his friends away: + The sorrowing friends his frantic rage obey. + Next on his sons his erring fury falls, + Polites, Paris, Agathon, he calls; + His threats Deiphobus and Dius hear, + Hippothous, Pammon, Helenes the seer, + And generous Antiphon: for yet these nine + Survived, sad relics of his numerous line. + + "Inglorious sons of an unhappy sire! + Why did not all in Hector's cause expire? + Wretch that I am! my bravest offspring slain. + You, the disgrace of Priam's house, remain! + Mestor the brave, renown'd in ranks of war, + With Troilus, dreadful on his rushing car,(293) + And last great Hector, more than man divine, + For sure he seem'd not of terrestrial line! + All those relentless Mars untimely slew, + And left me these, a soft and servile crew, + Whose days the feast and wanton dance employ, + Gluttons and flatterers, the contempt of Troy! + Why teach ye not my rapid wheels to run, + And speed my journey to redeem my son?" + + The sons their father's wretched age revere, + Forgive his anger, and produce the car. + High on the seat the cabinet they bind: + The new-made car with solid beauty shined; + Box was the yoke, emboss'd with costly pains, + And hung with ringlets to receive the reins; + Nine cubits long, the traces swept the ground: + These to the chariot's polish'd pole they bound. + Then fix'd a ring the running reins to guide, + And close beneath the gather'd ends were tied. + Next with the gifts (the price of Hector slain) + The sad attendants load the groaning wain: + Last to the yoke the well-matched mules they bring, + (The gift of Mysia to the Trojan king.) + But the fair horses, long his darling care, + Himself received, and harness'd to his car: + Grieved as he was, he not this task denied; + The hoary herald help'd him, at his side. + While careful these the gentle coursers join'd, + Sad Hecuba approach'd with anxious mind; + A golden bowl that foam'd with fragrant wine, + (Libation destined to the power divine,) + Held in her right, before the steed she stands, + And thus consigns it to the monarch's hands: + + "Take this, and pour to Jove; that safe from harms + His grace restore thee to our roof and arms. + Since victor of thy fears, and slighting mine, + Heaven, or thy soul, inspires this bold design; + Pray to that god, who high on Ida's brow + Surveys thy desolated realms below, + His winged messenger to send from high, + And lead thy way with heavenly augury: + Let the strong sovereign of the plumy race + Tower on the right of yon ethereal space. + That sign beheld, and strengthen'd from above, + Boldly pursue the journey mark'd by Jove: + But if the god his augury denies, + Suppress thy impulse, nor reject advice." + + "'Tis just (said Priam) to the sire above + To raise our hands; for who so good as Jove?" + He spoke, and bade the attendant handmaid bring + The purest water of the living spring: + (Her ready hands the ewer and bason held:) + Then took the golden cup his queen had fill'd; + On the mid pavement pours the rosy wine, + Uplifts his eyes, and calls the power divine: + + "O first and greatest! heaven's imperial lord! + On lofty Ida's holy hill adored! + To stern Achilles now direct my ways, + And teach him mercy when a father prays. + If such thy will, despatch from yonder sky + Thy sacred bird, celestial augury! + Let the strong sovereign of the plumy race + Tower on the right of yon ethereal space; + So shall thy suppliant, strengthen'd from above, + Fearless pursue the journey mark'd by Jove." + + Jove heard his prayer, and from the throne on high, + Despatch'd his bird, celestial augury! + The swift-wing'd chaser of the feather'd game, + And known to gods by Percnos' lofty name. + Wide as appears some palace-gate display'd. + So broad, his pinions stretch'd their ample shade, + As stooping dexter with resounding wings + The imperial bird descends in airy rings. + A dawn of joy in every face appears: + The mourning matron dries her timorous tears: + Swift on his car the impatient monarch sprung; + The brazen portal in his passage rung; + The mules preceding draw the loaded wain, + Charged with the gifts: Idaeus holds the rein: + The king himself his gentle steeds controls, + And through surrounding friends the chariot rolls. + On his slow wheels the following people wait, + Mourn at each step, and give him up to fate; + With hands uplifted eye him as he pass'd, + And gaze upon him as they gazed their last. + Now forward fares the father on his way, + Through the lone fields, and back to Ilion they. + Great Jove beheld him as he cross'd the plain, + And felt the woes of miserable man. + Then thus to Hermes: "Thou whose constant cares + Still succour mortals, and attend their prayers; + Behold an object to thy charge consign'd: + If ever pity touch'd thee for mankind, + Go, guard the sire: the observing foe prevent, + And safe conduct him to Achilles' tent." + + The god obeys, his golden pinions binds,(294) + And mounts incumbent on the wings of winds, + That high, through fields of air, his flight sustain, + O'er the wide earth, and o'er the boundless main; + Then grasps the wand that causes sleep to fly, + Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye: + Thus arm'd, swift Hermes steers his airy way, + And stoops on Hellespont's resounding sea. + A beauteous youth, majestic and divine, + He seem'd; fair offspring of some princely line! + Now twilight veil'd the glaring face of day, + And clad the dusky fields in sober grey; + What time the herald and the hoary king + (Their chariots stopping at the silver spring, + That circling Ilus' ancient marble flows) + Allow'd their mules and steeds a short repose, + Through the dim shade the herald first espies + A man's approach, and thus to Priam cries: + "I mark some foe's advance: O king! beware; + This hard adventure claims thy utmost care! + For much I fear destruction hovers nigh: + Our state asks counsel; is it best to fly? + Or old and helpless, at his feet to fall, + Two wretched suppliants, and for mercy call?" + + The afflicted monarch shiver'd with despair; + Pale grew his face, and upright stood his hair; + Sunk was his heart; his colour went and came; + A sudden trembling shook his aged frame: + When Hermes, greeting, touch'd his royal hand, + And, gentle, thus accosts with kind demand: + + "Say whither, father! when each mortal sight + Is seal'd in sleep, thou wanderest through the night? + Why roam thy mules and steeds the plains along, + Through Grecian foes, so numerous and so strong? + What couldst thou hope, should these thy treasures view; + These, who with endless hate thy race pursue? + For what defence, alas! could'st thou provide; + Thyself not young, a weak old man thy guide? + Yet suffer not thy soul to sink with dread; + From me no harm shall touch thy reverend head; + From Greece I'll guard thee too; for in those lines + The living image of my father shines." + + "Thy words, that speak benevolence of mind, + Are true, my son! (the godlike sire rejoin'd:) + Great are my hazards; but the gods survey + My steps, and send thee, guardian of my way. + Hail, and be bless'd! For scarce of mortal kind + Appear thy form, thy feature, and thy mind." + + "Nor true are all thy words, nor erring wide; + (The sacred messenger of heaven replied;) + But say, convey'st thou through the lonely plains + What yet most precious of thy store remains, + To lodge in safety with some friendly hand: + Prepared, perchance, to leave thy native land? + Or fliest thou now?--What hopes can Troy retain, + Thy matchless son, her guard and glory, slain?" + + The king, alarm'd: "Say what, and whence thou art + Who search the sorrows of a parent's heart, + And know so well how godlike Hector died?" + Thus Priam spoke, and Hermes thus replied: + + "You tempt me, father, and with pity touch: + On this sad subject you inquire too much. + Oft have these eyes that godlike Hector view'd + In glorious fight, with Grecian blood embrued: + I saw him when, like Jove, his flames he toss'd + On thousand ships, and wither'd half a host: + I saw, but help'd not: stern Achilles' ire + Forbade assistance, and enjoy'd the fire. + For him I serve, of Myrmidonian race; + One ship convey'd us from our native place; + Polyctor is my sire, an honour'd name, + Old like thyself, and not unknown to fame; + Of seven his sons, by whom the lot was cast + To serve our prince, it fell on me, the last. + To watch this quarter, my adventure falls: + For with the morn the Greeks attack your walls; + Sleepless they sit, impatient to engage, + And scarce their rulers check their martial rage." + + "If then thou art of stern Pelides' train, + (The mournful monarch thus rejoin'd again,) + Ah tell me truly, where, oh! where are laid + My son's dear relics? what befals him dead? + Have dogs dismember'd (on the naked plains), + Or yet unmangled rest, his cold remains?" + + "O favour'd of the skies! (thus answered then + The power that mediates between god and men) + Nor dogs nor vultures have thy Hector rent, + But whole he lies, neglected in the tent: + This the twelfth evening since he rested there, + Untouch'd by worms, untainted by the air. + Still as Aurora's ruddy beam is spread, + Round his friend's tomb Achilles drags the dead: + Yet undisfigured, or in limb or face, + All fresh he lies, with every living grace, + Majestical in death! No stains are found + O'er all the corse, and closed is every wound, + Though many a wound they gave. Some heavenly care, + Some hand divine, preserves him ever fair: + Or all the host of heaven, to whom he led + A life so grateful, still regard him dead." + + Thus spoke to Priam the celestial guide, + And joyful thus the royal sire replied: + "Blest is the man who pays the gods above + The constant tribute of respect and love! + Those who inhabit the Olympian bower + My son forgot not, in exalted power; + And heaven, that every virtue bears in mind, + Even to the ashes of the just is kind. + But thou, O generous youth! this goblet take, + A pledge of gratitude for Hector's sake; + And while the favouring gods our steps survey, + Safe to Pelides' tent conduct my way." + + To whom the latent god: "O king, forbear + To tempt my youth, for apt is youth to err. + But can I, absent from my prince's sight, + Take gifts in secret, that must shun the light? + What from our master's interest thus we draw, + Is but a licensed theft that 'scapes the law. + Respecting him, my soul abjures the offence; + And as the crime, I dread the consequence. + Thee, far as Argos, pleased I could convey; + Guard of thy life, and partner of thy way: + On thee attend, thy safety to maintain, + O'er pathless forests, or the roaring main." + + He said, then took the chariot at a bound, + And snatch'd the reins, and whirl'd the lash around: + Before the inspiring god that urged them on, + The coursers fly with spirit not their own. + And now they reach'd the naval walls, and found + The guards repasting, while the bowls go round; + On these the virtue of his wand he tries, + And pours deep slumber on their watchful eyes: + Then heaved the massy gates, removed the bars, + And o'er the trenches led the rolling cars. + Unseen, through all the hostile camp they went, + And now approach'd Pelides' lofty tent. + On firs the roof was raised, and cover'd o'er + With reeds collected from the marshy shore; + And, fenced with palisades, a hall of state, + (The work of soldiers,) where the hero sat. + Large was the door, whose well-compacted strength + A solid pine-tree barr'd of wondrous length: + Scarce three strong Greeks could lift its mighty weight, + But great Achilles singly closed the gate. + This Hermes (such the power of gods) set wide; + Then swift alighted the celestial guide, + And thus reveal'd--"Hear, prince! and understand + Thou ow'st thy guidance to no mortal hand: + Hermes I am, descended from above, + The king of arts, the messenger of Jove, + Farewell: to shun Achilles' sight I fly; + Uncommon are such favours of the sky, + Nor stand confess'd to frail mortality. + Now fearless enter, and prefer thy prayers; + Adjure him by his father's silver hairs, + His son, his mother! urge him to bestow + Whatever pity that stern heart can know." + + Thus having said, he vanish'd from his eyes, + And in a moment shot into the skies: + The king, confirm'd from heaven, alighted there, + And left his aged herald on the car, + With solemn pace through various rooms he went, + And found Achilles in his inner tent: + There sat the hero: Alcimus the brave, + And great Automedon, attendance gave: + These served his person at the royal feast; + Around, at awful distance, stood the rest. + + Unseen by these, the king his entry made: + And, prostrate now before Achilles laid, + Sudden (a venerable sight!) appears; + Embraced his knees, and bathed his hands in tears; + Those direful hands his kisses press'd, embrued + Even with the best, the dearest of his blood! + + As when a wretch (who, conscious of his crime, + Pursued for murder, flies his native clime) + Just gains some frontier, breathless, pale, amazed, + All gaze, all wonder: thus Achilles gazed: + Thus stood the attendants stupid with surprise: + All mute, yet seem'd to question with their eyes: + Each look'd on other, none the silence broke, + Till thus at last the kingly suppliant spoke: + + "Ah think, thou favour'd of the powers divine!(295) + Think of thy father's age, and pity mine! + In me that father's reverend image trace, + Those silver hairs, that venerable face; + His trembling limbs, his helpless person, see! + In all my equal, but in misery! + Yet now, perhaps, some turn of human fate + Expels him helpless from his peaceful state; + Think, from some powerful foe thou seest him fly, + And beg protection with a feeble cry. + Yet still one comfort in his soul may rise; + He hears his son still lives to glad his eyes, + And, hearing, still may hope a better day + May send him thee, to chase that foe away. + No comfort to my griefs, no hopes remain, + The best, the bravest, of my sons are slain! + Yet what a race! ere Greece to Ilion came, + The pledge of many a loved and loving dame: + Nineteen one mother bore--Dead, all are dead! + How oft, alas! has wretched Priam bled! + Still one was left their loss to recompense; + His father's hope, his country's last defence. + Him too thy rage has slain! beneath thy steel, + Unhappy in his country's cause he fell! + + "For him through hostile camps I bent my way, + For him thus prostrate at thy feet I lay; + Large gifts proportion'd to thy wrath I bear; + O hear the wretched, and the gods revere! + + "Think of thy father, and this face behold! + See him in me, as helpless and as old! + Though not so wretched: there he yields to me, + The first of men in sovereign misery! + Thus forced to kneel, thus grovelling to embrace + The scourge and ruin of my realm and race; + Suppliant my children's murderer to implore, + And kiss those hands yet reeking with their gore!" + + These words soft pity in the chief inspire, + Touch'd with the dear remembrance of his sire. + Then with his hand (as prostrate still he lay) + The old man's cheek he gently turn'd away. + Now each by turns indulged the gush of woe; + And now the mingled tides together flow: + This low on earth, that gently bending o'er; + A father one, and one a son deplore: + But great Achilles different passions rend, + And now his sire he mourns, and now his friend. + The infectious softness through the heroes ran; + One universal solemn shower began; + They bore as heroes, but they felt as man. + + Satiate at length with unavailing woes, + From the high throne divine Achilles rose; + The reverend monarch by the hand he raised; + On his white beard and form majestic gazed, + Not unrelenting; then serene began + With words to soothe the miserable man: + + "Alas, what weight of anguish hast thou known, + Unhappy prince! thus guardless and alone + Two pass through foes, and thus undaunted face + The man whose fury has destroy'd thy race! + Heaven sure has arm'd thee with a heart of steel, + A strength proportion'd to the woes you feel. + Rise, then: let reason mitigate your care: + To mourn avails not: man is born to bear. + Such is, alas! the gods' severe decree: + They, only they are blest, and only free. + Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood, + The source of evil one, and one of good; + From thence the cup of mortal man he fills, + Blessings to these, to those distributes ill; + To most he mingles both: the wretch decreed + To taste the bad unmix'd, is cursed indeed; + Pursued by wrongs, by meagre famine driven, + He wanders, outcast both of earth and heaven. + The happiest taste not happiness sincere; + But find the cordial draught is dash'd with care. + Who more than Peleus shone in wealth and power + What stars concurring bless'd his natal hour! + A realm, a goddess, to his wishes given; + Graced by the gods with all the gifts of heaven. + One evil yet o'ertakes his latest day: + No race succeeding to imperial sway; + An only son; and he, alas! ordain'd + To fall untimely in a foreign land. + See him, in Troy, the pious care decline + Of his weak age, to live the curse of thine! + Thou too, old man, hast happier days beheld; + In riches once, in children once excell'd; + Extended Phrygia own'd thy ample reign, + And all fair Lesbos' blissful seats contain, + And all wide Hellespont's unmeasured main. + But since the god his hand has pleased to turn, + And fill thy measure from his bitter urn, + What sees the sun, but hapless heroes' falls? + War, and the blood of men, surround thy walls! + What must be, must be. Bear thy lot, nor shed + These unavailing sorrows o'er the dead; + Thou canst not call him from the Stygian shore, + But thou, alas! may'st live to suffer more!" + + To whom the king: "O favour'd of the skies! + Here let me grow to earth! since Hector lies + On the bare beach deprived of obsequies. + O give me Hector! to my eyes restore + His corse, and take the gifts: I ask no more. + Thou, as thou may'st, these boundless stores enjoy; + Safe may'st thou sail, and turn thy wrath from Troy; + So shall thy pity and forbearance give + A weak old man to see the light and live!" + + "Move me no more, (Achilles thus replies, + While kindling anger sparkled in his eyes,) + Nor seek by tears my steady soul to bend: + To yield thy Hector I myself intend: + For know, from Jove my goddess-mother came, + (Old Ocean's daughter, silver-footed dame,) + Nor comest thou but by heaven; nor comest alone, + Some god impels with courage not thy own: + No human hand the weighty gates unbarr'd, + Nor could the boldest of our youth have dared + To pass our outworks, or elude the guard. + Cease; lest, neglectful of high Jove's command, + I show thee, king! thou tread'st on hostile land; + Release my knees, thy suppliant arts give o'er, + And shake the purpose of my soul no more." + + The sire obey'd him, trembling and o'eraw'd. + Achilles, like a lion, rush'd abroad: + Automedon and Alcimus attend, + (Whom most he honour'd, since he lost his friend,) + These to unyoke the mules and horses went, + And led the hoary herald to the tent; + Next, heap'd on high, the numerous presents bear, + (Great Hector's ransom,) from the polish'd car. + Two splendid mantles, and a carpet spread, + They leave: to cover and enwrap the dead. + Then call the handmaids, with assistant toil + To wash the body and anoint with oil, + Apart from Priam: lest the unhappy sire, + Provoked to passion, once more rouse to ire + The stern Pelides; and nor sacred age, + Nor Jove's command, should check the rising rage. + This done, the garments o'er the corse they spread; + Achilles lifts it to the funeral bed: + Then, while the body on the car they laid, + He groans, and calls on loved Patroclus' shade: + + "If, in that gloom which never light must know, + The deeds of mortals touch the ghosts below, + O friend! forgive me, that I thus fulfil + (Restoring Hector) heaven's unquestion'd will. + The gifts the father gave, be ever thine, + To grace thy manes, and adorn thy shrine."(296) + + He said, and, entering, took his seat of state; + Where full before him reverend Priam sate; + To whom, composed, the godlike chief begun: + "Lo! to thy prayer restored, thy breathless son; + Extended on the funeral couch he lies; + And soon as morning paints the eastern skies, + The sight is granted to thy longing eyes: + But now the peaceful hours of sacred night + Demand reflection, and to rest invite: + Nor thou, O father! thus consumed with woe, + The common cares that nourish life forego. + Not thus did Niobe, of form divine, + A parent once, whose sorrows equall'd thine: + Six youthful sons, as many blooming maids, + In one sad day beheld the Stygian shades; + Those by Apollo's silver bow were slain, + These, Cynthia's arrows stretch'd upon the plain: + So was her pride chastised by wrath divine, + Who match'd her own with bright Latona's line; + But two the goddess, twelve the queen enjoy'd; + Those boasted twelve, the avenging two destroy'd. + Steep'd in their blood, and in the dust outspread, + Nine days, neglected, lay exposed the dead; + None by to weep them, to inhume them none; + (For Jove had turn'd the nation all to stone.) + The gods themselves, at length relenting gave + The unhappy race the honours of a grave. + Herself a rock (for such was heaven's high will) + Through deserts wild now pours a weeping rill; + Where round the bed whence Achelous springs, + The watery fairies dance in mazy rings; + There high on Sipylus's shaggy brow, + She stands, her own sad monument of woe; + The rock for ever lasts, the tears for ever flow. + + "Such griefs, O king! have other parents known; + Remember theirs, and mitigate thy own. + The care of heaven thy Hector has appear'd, + Nor shall he lie unwept, and uninterr'd; + Soon may thy aged cheeks in tears be drown'd, + And all the eyes of Ilion stream around." + + He said, and, rising, chose the victim ewe + With silver fleece, which his attendants slew. + The limbs they sever from the reeking hide, + With skill prepare them, and in parts divide: + Each on the coals the separate morsels lays, + And, hasty, snatches from the rising blaze. + With bread the glittering canisters they load, + Which round the board Automedon bestow'd. + The chief himself to each his portion placed, + And each indulging shared in sweet repast. + When now the rage of hunger was repress'd, + The wondering hero eyes his royal guest: + No less the royal guest the hero eyes, + His godlike aspect and majestic size; + Here, youthful grace and noble fire engage; + And there, the mild benevolence of age. + Thus gazing long, the silence neither broke, + (A solemn scene!) at length the father spoke: + + "Permit me now, beloved of Jove! to steep + My careful temples in the dew of sleep: + For, since the day that number'd with the dead + My hapless son, the dust has been my bed; + Soft sleep a stranger to my weeping eyes; + My only food, my sorrows and my sighs! + Till now, encouraged by the grace you give, + I share thy banquet, and consent to live." + + With that, Achilles bade prepare the bed, + With purple soft and shaggy carpets spread; + Forth, by the flaming lights, they bend their way, + And place the couches, and the coverings lay. + Then he: "Now, father, sleep, but sleep not here; + Consult thy safety, and forgive my fear, + Lest any Argive, at this hour awake, + To ask our counsel, or our orders take, + Approaching sudden to our open'd tent, + Perchance behold thee, and our grace prevent. + Should such report thy honour'd person here, + The king of men the ransom might defer; + But say with speed, if aught of thy desire + Remains unask'd; what time the rites require + To inter thy Hector? For, so long we stay + Our slaughtering arm, and bid the hosts obey." + + "If then thy will permit (the monarch said) + To finish all due honours to the dead, + This of thy grace accord: to thee are known + The fears of Ilion, closed within her town; + And at what distance from our walls aspire + The hills of Ide, and forests for the fire. + Nine days to vent our sorrows I request, + The tenth shall see the funeral and the feast; + The next, to raise his monument be given; + The twelfth we war, if war be doom'd by heaven!" + + "This thy request (replied the chief) enjoy: + Till then our arms suspend the fall of Troy." + + Then gave his hand at parting, to prevent + The old man's fears, and turn'd within the tent; + Where fair Briseis, bright in blooming charms, + Expects her hero with desiring arms. + But in the porch the king and herald rest; + Sad dreams of care yet wandering in their breast. + Now gods and men the gifts of sleep partake; + Industrious Hermes only was awake, + The king's return revolving in his mind, + To pass the ramparts, and the watch to blind. + The power descending hover'd o'er his head: + "And sleep'st thou, father! (thus the vision said:) + Now dost thou sleep, when Hector is restored? + Nor fear the Grecian foes, or Grecian lord? + Thy presence here should stern Atrides see, + Thy still surviving sons may sue for thee; + May offer all thy treasures yet contain, + To spare thy age; and offer all in vain." + + Waked with the word the trembling sire arose, + And raised his friend: the god before him goes: + He joins the mules, directs them with his hand, + And moves in silence through the hostile land. + When now to Xanthus' yellow stream they drove, + (Xanthus, immortal progeny of Jove,) + The winged deity forsook their view, + And in a moment to Olympus flew. + Now shed Aurora round her saffron ray, + Sprang through the gates of light, and gave the day: + Charged with the mournful load, to Ilion go + The sage and king, majestically slow. + Cassandra first beholds, from Ilion's spire, + The sad procession of her hoary sire; + Then, as the pensive pomp advanced more near, + (Her breathless brother stretched upon the bier,) + A shower of tears o'erflows her beauteous eyes, + Alarming thus all Ilion with her cries: + + "Turn here your steps, and here your eyes employ, + Ye wretched daughters, and ye sons of Troy! + If e'er ye rush'd in crowds, with vast delight, + To hail your hero glorious from the fight, + Now meet him dead, and let your sorrows flow; + Your common triumph, and your common woe." + + In thronging crowds they issue to the plains; + Nor man nor woman in the walls remains; + In every face the self-same grief is shown; + And Troy sends forth one universal groan. + At Scaea's gates they meet the mourning wain, + Hang on the wheels, and grovel round the slain. + The wife and mother, frantic with despair, + Kiss his pale cheek, and rend their scatter'd hair: + Thus wildly wailing, at the gates they lay; + And there had sigh'd and sorrow'd out the day; + But godlike Priam from the chariot rose: + "Forbear (he cried) this violence of woes; + First to the palace let the car proceed, + Then pour your boundless sorrows o'er the dead." + + The waves of people at his word divide, + Slow rolls the chariot through the following tide; + Even to the palace the sad pomp they wait: + They weep, and place him on the bed of state. + A melancholy choir attend around, + With plaintive sighs, and music's solemn sound: + Alternately they sing, alternate flow + The obedient tears, melodious in their woe. + While deeper sorrows groan from each full heart, + And nature speaks at every pause of art. + + First to the corse the weeping consort flew; + Around his neck her milk-white arms she threw, + "And oh, my Hector! Oh, my lord! (she cries) + Snatch'd in thy bloom from these desiring eyes! + Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone! + And I abandon'd, desolate, alone! + An only son, once comfort of our pains, + Sad product now of hapless love, remains! + Never to manly age that son shall rise, + Or with increasing graces glad my eyes: + For Ilion now (her great defender slain) + Shall sink a smoking ruin on the plain. + Who now protects her wives with guardian care? + Who saves her infants from the rage of war? + Now hostile fleets must waft those infants o'er + (Those wives must wait them) to a foreign shore: + Thou too, my son, to barbarous climes shall go, + The sad companion of thy mother's woe; + Driven hence a slave before the victor's sword + Condemn'd to toil for some inhuman lord: + Or else some Greek whose father press'd the plain, + Or son, or brother, by great Hector slain, + In Hector's blood his vengeance shall enjoy, + And hurl thee headlong from the towers of Troy.(297) + For thy stern father never spared a foe: + Thence all these tears, and all this scene of woe! + Thence many evils his sad parents bore, + His parents many, but his consort more. + Why gav'st thou not to me thy dying hand? + And why received not I thy last command? + Some word thou would'st have spoke, which, sadly dear, + My soul might keep, or utter with a tear; + Which never, never could be lost in air, + Fix'd in my heart, and oft repeated there!" + + Thus to her weeping maids she makes her moan, + Her weeping handmaids echo groan for groan. + + The mournful mother next sustains her part: + "O thou, the best, the dearest to my heart! + Of all my race thou most by heaven approved, + And by the immortals even in death beloved! + While all my other sons in barbarous bands + Achilles bound, and sold to foreign lands, + This felt no chains, but went a glorious ghost, + Free, and a hero, to the Stygian coast. + Sentenced, 'tis true, by his inhuman doom, + Thy noble corse was dragg'd around the tomb; + (The tomb of him thy warlike arm had slain;) + Ungenerous insult, impotent and vain! + Yet glow'st thou fresh with every living grace; + No mark of pain, or violence of face: + Rosy and fair! as Phoebus' silver bow + Dismiss'd thee gently to the shades below." + + Thus spoke the dame, and melted into tears. + Sad Helen next in pomp of grief appears; + Fast from the shining sluices of her eyes + Fall the round crystal drops, while thus she cries. + + "Ah, dearest friend! in whom the gods had join'd(298) + Tne mildest manners with the bravest mind, + Now twice ten years (unhappy years) are o'er + Since Paris brought me to the Trojan shore, + (O had I perish'd, ere that form divine + Seduced this soft, this easy heart of mine!) + Yet was it ne'er my fate, from thee to find + A deed ungentle, or a word unkind. + When others cursed the authoress of their woe, + Thy pity check'd my sorrows in their flow. + If some proud brother eyed me with disdain, + Or scornful sister with her sweeping train, + Thy gentle accents soften'd all my pain. + For thee I mourn, and mourn myself in thee, + The wretched source of all this misery. + The fate I caused, for ever I bemoan; + Sad Helen has no friend, now thou art gone! + Through Troy's wide streets abandon'd shall I roam! + In Troy deserted, as abhorr'd at home!" + + So spoke the fair, with sorrow-streaming eye. + Distressful beauty melts each stander-by. + On all around the infectious sorrow grows; + But Priam check'd the torrent as it rose: + "Perform, ye Trojans! what the rites require, + And fell the forests for a funeral pyre; + Twelve days, nor foes nor secret ambush dread; + Achilles grants these honours to the dead."(299) + + [Illustration: FUNERAL OF HECTOR.] + + FUNERAL OF HECTOR. + + + He spoke, and, at his word, the Trojan train + Their mules and oxen harness to the wain, + Pour through the gates, and fell'd from Ida's crown, + Roll back the gather'd forests to the town. + These toils continue nine succeeding days, + And high in air a sylvan structure raise. + But when the tenth fair morn began to shine, + Forth to the pile was borne the man divine, + And placed aloft; while all, with streaming eyes, + Beheld the flames and rolling smokes arise. + Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn, + With rosy lustre streak'd the dewy lawn, + Again the mournful crowds surround the pyre, + And quench with wine the yet remaining fire. + The snowy bones his friends and brothers place + (With tears collected) in a golden vase; + The golden vase in purple palls they roll'd, + Of softest texture, and inwrought with gold. + Last o'er the urn the sacred earth they spread, + And raised the tomb, memorial of the dead. + (Strong guards and spies, till all the rites were done, + Watch'd from the rising to the setting sun.) + All Troy then moves to Priam's court again, + A solemn, silent, melancholy train: + Assembled there, from pious toil they rest, + And sadly shared the last sepulchral feast. + Such honours Ilion to her hero paid, + And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade.(300) + + + + + +CONCLUDING NOTE. + + +We have now passed through the Iliad, and seen the anger of Achilles, and +the terrible effects of it, at an end, as that only was the subject of the +poem, and the nature of epic poetry would not permit our author to proceed +to the event of the war, it perhaps may be acceptable to the common reader +to give a short account of what happened to Troy and the chief actors in +this poem after the conclusion of it. + +I need not mention that Troy was taken soon after the death of Hector by +the stratagem of the wooden horse, the particulars of which are described +by Virgil in the second book of the AEneid. + +Achilles fell before Troy, by the hand of Paris, by the shot of an arrow +in his heel, as Hector had prophesied at his death, lib. xxii. + +The unfortunate Priam was killed by Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles. + +Ajax, after the death of Achilles, had a contest with Ulysses for the +armour of Vulcan, but being defeated in his aim, he slew himself through +indignation. + +Helen, after the death of Paris, married Deiphobus his brother, and at the +taking of Troy betrayed him, in order to reconcile herself to Menelaus her +first husband, who received her again into favour. + +Agamemnon at his return was barbarously murdered by AEgysthus, at the +instigation of Clytemnestra his wife, who in his absence had dishonoured +his bed with AEgysthus. + +Diomed, after the fall of Troy, was expelled his own country, and scarce +escaped with his life from his adulterous wife AEgiale; but at last was +received by Daunus in Apulia, and shared his kingdom; it is uncertain how +he died. + +Nestor lived in peace with his children, in Pylos, his native country. + +Ulysses also, after innumerable troubles by sea and land, at last returned +in safety to Ithaca, which is the subject of Homer's Odyssey. + +For what remains, I beg to be excused from the ceremonies of taking leave +at the end of my work, and from embarrassing myself, or others, with any +defences or apologies about it. But instead of endeavouring to raise a +vain monument to myself, of the merits or difficulties of it (which must +be left to the world, to truth, and to posterity), let me leave behind me +a memorial of my friendship with one of the most valuable of men, as well +as finest writers, of my age and country, one who has tried, and knows by +his own experience, how hard an undertaking it is to do justice to Homer, +and one whom (I am sure) sincerely rejoices with me at the period of my +labours. To him, therefore, having brought this long work to a conclusion, +I desire to dedicate it, and to have the honour and satisfaction of +placing together, in this manner, the names of Mr. CONGREVE, and of + +March 25, 1720 + + A. POPE + +Ton theon de eupoiia--to mae epi pleon me procophai en poiaetikn kai allois +epitaeoeimasi en ois isos a kateschethaen, ei aesthomaen emautan euodos +proionta. + + M. AUREL ANTON _de Seipso,_ lib. i. Section 17. + + + + + +END OF THE ILLIAD + + + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + + 1 "What," says Archdeacon Wilberforce, "is the natural root of loyalty + as distinguished from such mere selfish desire of personal security + as is apt to take its place in civilized times, but that + consciousness of a natural bond among the families of men which + gives a fellow-feeling to whole clans and nations, and thus enlists + their affections in behalf of those time-honoured representatives of + their ancient blood, in whose success they feel a personal interest? + Hence the delight when we recognize an act of nobility or justice in + our hereditary princes + + "'Tuque prior, tu parce genus qui ducis Olympo, + Projice tela manu _sanguis meus_' + + "So strong is this feeling, that it regains an engrafted influence + even when history witnesses that vast convulsions have rent and + weakened it and the Celtic feeling towards the Stuarts has been + rekindled in our own days towards the grand daughter of George the + Third of Hanover. + + "Somewhat similar may be seen in the disposition to idolize those + great lawgivers of man's race, who have given expression, in the + immortal language of song, to the deeper inspirations of our nature. + The thoughts of Homer or of Shakespere are the universal inheritance + of the human race. In this mutual ground every man meets his + brother, they have been bet forth by the providence of God to + vindicate for all of us what nature could effect, and that, in these + representatives of our race, we might recognize our common + benefactors.'--_Doctrine of the Incarnation,_ pp. 9, 10. + + 2 Eikos de min aen kai mnaemoruna panton grapherthai. Vit. Hom. in + Schweigh Herodot t. iv. p. 299, sq. Section 6. I may observe that + this Life has been paraphrased in English by my learned young friend + Kenneth R. H. Mackenzie, and appended to my prose translation of the + Odyssey. The present abridgement however, will contain all that is + of use to the reader, for the biographical value of the treatise is + most insignificant. + + 3 --_I.e._ both of composing and reciting verses for as Blair observes, + "The first poets sang their own verses." Sextus Empir. adv. Mus. p. + 360 ed. Fabric. Ou hamelei ge toi kai oi poiaetai melopoioi + legontai, kai ta Omaerou epae to palai pros lyran aedeto. + + "The voice," observes Heeren, "was always accompanied by some + instrument. The bard was provided with a harp on which he played a + prelude, to elevate and inspire his mind, and with which he + accompanied the song when begun. His voice probably preserved a + medium between singing and recitation; the words, and not the melody + were regarded by the listeners, hence it was necessary for him to + remain intelligible to all. In countries where nothing similar is + found, it is difficult to represent such scenes to the mind; but + whoever has had an opportunity of listening to the improvisation of + Italy, can easily form an idea of Demodocus and Phemius."--_Ancient + Greece,_ p. 94. + + 4 "Should it not be, since _my_ arrival? asks Mackenzie, observing + that "poplars can hardly live so long". But setting aside the fact + that we must not expect consistency in a mere romance, the ancients + had a superstitious belief in the great age of trees which grew near + places consecrated by the presence of gods and great men. See Cicero + de Legg II I, sub init., where he speaks of the plane tree under + which Socrates used to walk and of the tree at Delos, where Latona + gave birth to Apollo. This passage is referred to by Stephanus of + Byzantium, _s. v._ N. T. p. 490, ed. de Pinedo. I omit quoting any + of the dull epigrams ascribed to Homer for, as Mr. Justice Talfourd + rightly observes, "The authenticity of these fragments depends upon + that of the pseudo Herodotean Life of Homer, from which they are + taken." Lit of Greece, pp. 38 in Encycl. Metrop. Cf. Coleridge, + Classic Poets, p. 317. + + 5 It is quoted as the work of Cleobulus, by Diogenes Laert. Vit. + Cleob. p. 62, ed. Casaub. + + 6 I trust I am justified in employing this as an equivalent for the + Greek leschai. + + 7 Os ei tous, Homerous doxei trephein autois, omilon pollon te kai + achreoin exousin. enteuthen de kai tounoma Homeros epekrataese to + Melaesigenei apo taes symphoraes oi gar Kumaioi tous tuphlous + Homerous legousin. Vit. Hom. _l. c._ p. 311. The etymology has been + condemned by recent scholars. See Welcker, Epische Cyclus, p. 127, + and Mackenzie's note, p. xiv. + + 8 Thestorides, thnetoisin anoiston poleon per, ouden aphrastoteron + peletai noou anthropoisin. Ibid. p. 315. During his stay at Phocoea, + Homer is said to have composed the Little Iliad, and the Phocoeid. + See Muller's Hist. of Lit., vi. Section 3. Welcker, _l. c._ pp. 132, + 272, 358, sqq., and Mure, Gr. Lit. vol. ii. p. 284, sq. + + 9 This is so pretty a picture of early manners and hospitality, that + it is almost a pity to find that it is obviously a copy from the + Odyssey. See the fourteenth book. In fact, whoever was the author of + this fictitious biography, he showed some tact in identifying Homer + with certain events described in his poems, and in eliciting from + them the germs of something like a personal narrative. + + 10 Dia logon estionto. A common metaphor. So Plato calls the parties + conversing daitumones, or estiatores. Tim. i. p. 522 A. Cf. Themist. + Orat. vi. p. 168, and xvi. p. 374, ed. Petav So diaegaemasi sophois + omou kai terpnois aedio taen Thoinaen tois hestiomenois epoiei, + Choricius in Fabric. Bibl. Gr. T. viii. P. 851. logois gar estia, + Athenaeus vii p 275, A + + 11 It was at Bolissus, and in the house of this Chian citizen, that + Homer is said to have written the Batrachomyomachia, or Battle of + the Frogs and Mice, the Epicichlidia, and some other minor works. + + 12 Chandler, Travels, vol. i. p. 61, referred to in the Voyage + Pittoresque dans la Grece, vol. i. P. 92, where a view of the spot + is given of which the author candidly says,-- "Je ne puis repondre + d'une exactitude scrupuleuse dans la vue generale que j'en donne, + car etant alle seul pour l'examiner je perdis mon crayon, et je fus + oblige de m'en fier a ma memoire. Je ne crois cependant pas avoir + trop a me plaindre d'elle en cette occasion." + + 13 A more probable reason for this companionship, and for the character + of Mentor itself, is given by the allegorists, viz.: the assumption + of Mentor's form by the guardian deity of the wise Ulysses, Minerva. + The classical reader may compare Plutarch, Opp. t. ii. p. 880; + _Xyland._ Heraclid. Pont. Alleg. Hom. p. 531-5, of Gale's Opusc. + Mythol. Dionys. Halic. de Hom. Poes. c. 15; Apul. de Deo Socrat. s. + f. + + 14 Vit. Hom. Section 28. + + 15 The riddle is given in Section 35. Compare Mackenzie's note, p. xxx. + + 16 Heeren's Ancient Greece, p. 96. + + 17 Compare Sir E. L. Bulwer's Caxtons v. i. p. 4. + + 18 Pericles and Aspasia, Letter lxxxiv., Works, vol ii. p. 387. + + 19 Quarterly Review, No. lxxxvii., p. 147. + + 20 Viz., the following beautiful passage, for the translation of which + I am indebted to Coleridge, Classic Poets, p. 286. + + "Origias, farewell! and oh! remember me + Hereafter, when some stranger from the sea, + A hapless wanderer, may your isle explore, + And ask you, maid, of all the bards you boast, + Who sings the sweetest, and delights you most + Oh! answer all,--'A blind old man and poor + Sweetest he sings--and dwells on Chios' rocky shore.'" + + _See_ Thucyd. iii, 104. + + 21 Longin., de Sublim., ix. Section 26. Othen en tae Odysseia + pareikasai tis an kataduomeno ton Omaeron haelio, oo dixa taes + sphodrotaetos paramenei to megethos + + 22 See Tatian, quoted in Fabric. Bibl. Gr. v. II t. ii. Mr. Mackenzie + has given three brief but elaborate papers on the different writers + on the subject, which deserve to be consulted. See Notes and + Queries, vol. v. pp. 99, 171, and 221. His own views are moderate, + and perhaps as satisfactory, on the whole, as any of the hypotheses + hitherto put forth. In fact, they consist in an attempt to blend + those hypotheses into something like consistency, rather than in + advocating any individual theory. + + 23 Letters to Phileleuth; Lips. + + 24 Hist. of Greece, vol. ii. p. 191, sqq. + + 25 It is, indeed not easy to calculate the height to which the memory + may be cultivated. To take an ordinary case, we might refer to that + of any first rate actor, who must be prepared, at a very short + warning, to 'rhapsodize,' night after night, parts which when laid + together, would amount to an immense number of lines. But all this + is nothing to two instances of our own day. Visiting at Naples a + gentleman of the highest intellectual attainments, and who held a + distinguished rank among the men of letters in the last century, he + informed us that the day before he had passed much time in examining + a man, not highly educated, who had learned to repeat the whole + Gierusalemme of Tasso, not only to recite it consecutively, but also + to repeat those stanzas in utter defiance of the sense, either + forwards or backwards, or from the eighth line to the first, + alternately the odd and even lines--in short, whatever the passage + required; the memory, which seemed to cling to the words much more + than to the sense, had it at such perfect command, that it could + produce it under any form. Our informant went on to state that this + singular being was proceeding to learn the Orlando Furioso in the + same manner. But even this instance is less wonderful than one as to + which we may appeal to any of our readers that happened some twenty + years ago to visit the town of Stirling, in Scotland. No such person + can have forgotten the poor, uneducated man Blind Jamie who could + actually repeat, after a few minutes consideration any verse + required from any part of the Bible--even the obscurest and most + unimportant enumeration of mere proper names not excepted. We do not + mention these facts as touching the more difficult part of the + question before us, but facts they are; and if we find so much + difficulty in calculating the extent to which the mere memory may be + cultivated, are we, in these days of multifarious reading, and of + countless distracting affairs, fair judges of the perfection to + which the invention and the memory combined may attain in a simpler + age, and among a more single minded people?--Quarterly Review, _l. + c.,_ p. 143, sqq. + + Heeren steers between the two opinions, observing that, "The + Dschungariade of the Calmucks is said to surpass the poems of Homer + in length, as much as it stands beneath them in merit, and yet it + exists only in the memory of a people which is not unacquainted with + writing. But the songs of a nation are probably the last things + which are committed to writing, for the very reason that they are + remembered."-- _Ancient Greece._ p. 100. + + 26 Vol. II p. 198, sqq. + + 27 Quarterly Review, _l. c.,_ p. 131 sq. + + 28 Betrachtungen uber die Ilias. Berol. 1841. See Grote, p. 204. Notes + and Queries, vol. v. p. 221. + + 29 Prolegg. pp. xxxii., xxxvi., &c. + + 30 Vol. ii. p. 214 sqq. + + 31 "Who," says Cicero, de Orat. iii. 34, "was more learned in that age, + or whose eloquence is reported to have been more perfected by + literature than that of Peisistratus, who is said first to have + disposed the books of Homer in the order in which we now have them?" + Compare Wolf's Prolegomena, Section 33 + + 32 "The first book, together with the eighth, and the books from the + eleventh to the twenty-second inclusive, seems to form the primary + organization of the poem, then properly an Achilleis."--Grote, vol. + ii. p. 235 + + 33 K. R. H. Mackenzie, Notes and Queries, p. 222 sqq. + + 34 See his Epistle to Raphelingius, in Schroeder's edition, 4to., + Delphis, 1728. + + 35 Ancient Greece, p. 101. + + 36 The best description of this monument will be found in Vaux's + "Antiquities of the British Museum," p. 198 sq. The monument itself + (Towneley Sculptures, No. 123) is well known. + + 37 Coleridge, Classic Poets, p. 276. + + 38 Preface to her Homer. + + 39 Hesiod. Opp. et Dier. Lib. I. vers. 155, &c. + + 40 The following argument of the Iliad, corrected in a few particulars, + is translated from Bitaube, and is, perhaps, the neatest summary + that has ever been drawn up:--"A hero, injured by his general, and + animated with a noble resentment, retires to his tent; and for a + season withdraws himself and his troops from the war. During this + interval, victory abandons the army, which for nine years has been + occupied in a great enterprise, upon the successful termination of + which the honour of their country depends. The general, at length + opening his eyes to the fault which he had committed, deputes the + principal officers of his army to the incensed hero, with commission + to make compensation for the injury, and to tender magnificent + presents. The hero, according to the proud obstinacy of his + character, persists in his animosity; the army is again defeated, + and is on the verge of entire destruction. This inexorable man has a + friend; this friend weeps before him, and asks for the hero's arms, + and for permission to go to the war in his stead. The eloquence of + friendship prevails more than the intercession of the ambassadors or + the gifts of the general. He lends his armour to his friend, but + commands him not to engage with the chief of the enemy's army, + because he reserves to himself the honour of that combat, and + because he also fears for his friend's life. The prohibition is + forgotten; the friend listens to nothing but his courage; his corpse + is brought back to the hero, and the hero's arms become the prize of + the conqueror. Then the hero, given up to the most lively despair, + prepares to fight; he receives from a divinity new armour, is + reconciled with his general and, thirsting for glory and revenge, + enacts prodigies of valour, recovers the victory, slays the enemy's + chief, honours his friend with superb funeral rites, and exercises a + cruel vengeance on the body of his destroyer; but finally appeased + by the tears and prayers of the father of the slain warrior, + restores to the old man the corpse of his son, which he buries with + due solemnities.'--Coleridge, p. 177, sqq. + + 41 Vultures: Pope is more accurate than the poet he translates, for + Homer writes "a prey to dogs and to _all_ kinds of birds. But all + kinds of birds are not carnivorous. + + 42 --_i.e._ during the whole time of their striving the will of Jove was + being gradually accomplished. + + 43 Compare Milton's "Paradise Lost" i. 6 + + "Sing, heavenly Muse, that on the secret top + Of Horeb, or of Sinai, didst inspire + That shepherd." + + 44 --_Latona's son: i.e._ Apollo. + + 45 --_King of men:_ Agamemnon. + + 46 --_Brother kings:_ Menelaus and Agamemnon. + + 47 --_Smintheus_ an epithet taken from sminthos, the Phrygian name for a + _mouse,_ was applied to Apollo for having put an end to a plague of + mice which had harassed that territory. Strabo, however, says, that + when the Teucri were migrating from Crete, they were told by an + oracle to settle in that place, where they should not be attacked by + the original inhabitants of the land, and that, having halted for + the night, a number of field-mice came and gnawed away the leathern + straps of their baggage, and thongs of their armour. In fulfilment + of the oracle, they settled on the spot, and raised a temple to + Sminthean Apollo. Grote, "History of Greece," i. p. 68, remarks that + the "worship of Sminthean Apollo, in various parts of the Troad and + its neighboring territory, dates before the earliest period of + Aeolian colonization." + + 48 --_Cilla,_ a town of Troas near Thebe, so called from Cillus, a + sister of Hippodamia, slain by OEnomaus. + + 49 A mistake. It should be, + + + "If e'er I _roofed_ thy graceful fane," + + + for the custom of decorating temples with garlands was of later + date. + + 50 --_Bent was his bow_ "The Apollo of Homer, it must be borne in mind, + is a different character from the deity of the same name in the + later classical pantheon. Throughout both poems, all deaths from + unforeseen or invisible causes, the ravages of pestilence, the fate + of the young child or promising adult, cut off in the germ of + infancy or flower of youth, of the old man dropping peacefully into + the grave, or of the reckless sinner suddenly checked in his career + of crime, are ascribed to the arrows of Apollo or Diana. The + oracular functions of the god rose naturally out of the above + fundamental attributes, for who could more appropriately impart to + mortals what little foreknowledge Fate permitted of her decrees than + the agent of her most awful dispensations? The close union of the + arts of prophecy and song explains his additional office of god of + music, while the arrows with which he and his sister were armed, + symbols of sudden death in every age, no less naturally procured him + that of god of archery. Of any connection between Apollo and the + Sun, whatever may have existed in the more esoteric doctrine of the + Greek sanctuaries, there is no trace in either Iliad or + Odyssey."--Mure, "History of Greek Literature," vol. i. p. 478, sq. + + 51 It has frequently been observed, that most pestilences begin with + animals, and that Homer had this fact in mind. + + 52 --_Convened to council._ The public assembly in the heroic times is + well characterized by Grote, vol. ii. p 92. "It is an assembly for + talk. Communication and discussion to a certain extent by the chiefs + in person, of the people as listeners and sympathizers--often for + eloquence, and sometimes for quarrel--but here its ostensible + purposes end." + + 53 Old Jacob Duport, whose "Gnomologia Homerica" is full of curious and + useful things, quotes several passages of the ancients, in which + reference is made to these words of Homer, in maintenance of the + belief that dreams had a divine origin and an import in which men + were interested. + + 54 Rather, "bright-eyed." See the German critics quoted by Arnold. + + 55 The prize given to Ajax was Tecmessa, while Ulysses received + Laodice, the daughter of Cycnus. + + 56 The Myrmidons dwelt on the southern borders of Thessaly, and took + their origin from Myrmido, son of Jupiter and Eurymedusa. It is + fancifully supposed that the name was derived from myrmaex, an + _ant,_ "because they imitated the diligence of the ants, and like + them were indefatigable, continually employed in cultivating the + earth; the change from ants to men is founded merely on the + equivocation of their name, which resembles that of the ant: they + bore a further resemblance to these little animals, in that instead + of inhabiting towns or villages, at first they commonly resided in + the open fields, having no other retreats but dens and the cavities + of trees, until Ithacus brought them together, and settled them in + more secure and comfortable habitations."--Anthon's "Lempriere." + + 57 Eustathius, after Heraclides Ponticus and others, allegorizes this + apparition, as if the appearance of Minerva to Achilles, unseen by + the rest, was intended to point out the sudden recollection that he + would gain nothing by intemperate wrath, and that it were best to + restrain his anger, and only gratify it by withdrawing his services. + The same idea is rather cleverly worked out by Apuleius, "De Deo + Socratis." + + 58 Compare Milton, "Paradise Lost," bk. ii: + + "Though his tongue + Dropp'd manna." + + So Proverbs v. 3, "For the lips of a strange woman drop as an + honey-comb." + + 59 Salt water was chiefly used in lustrations, from its being supposed + to possess certain fiery particles. Hence, if sea-water could not be + obtained, salt was thrown into the fresh water to be used for the + lustration. Menander, in Clem. Alex. vii. p.713, hydati perriranai, + embalon alas, phakois. + + 60 The persons of heralds were held inviolable, and they were at + liberty to travel whither they would without fear of molestation. + Pollux, Onom. viii. p. 159. The office was generally given to old + men, and they were believed to be under the especial protection of + Jove and Mercury. + + 61 His mother, Thetis, the daughter of Nereus and Doris, who was + courted by Neptune and Jupiter. When, however, it was known that the + son to whom she would give birth must prove greater than his father, + it was determined to wed her to a mortal, and Peleus, with great + difficulty, succeeded in obtaining her hand, as she eluded him by + assuming various forms. Her children were all destroyed by fire + through her attempts to see whether they were immortal, and Achilles + would have shared the same fate had not his father rescued him. She + afterwards rendered him invulnerable by plunging him into the waters + of the Styx, with the exception of that part of the heel by which + she held him. Hygin. Fab. 54 + + 62 Thebe was a city of Mysia, north of Adramyttium. + + 63 That is, defrauds me of the prize allotted me by their votes. + + 64 Quintus Calaber goes still further in his account of the service + rendered to Jove by Thetis: + + "Nay more, the fetters of Almighty Jove + She loosed"--Dyce's "Calaber," s. 58. + + 65 --_To Fates averse._ Of the gloomy destiny reigning throughout the + Homeric poems, and from which even the gods are not exempt, Schlegel + well observes, "This power extends also to the world of gods-- for + the Grecian gods are mere powers of nature--and although immeasurably + higher than mortal man, yet, compared with infinitude, they are on + an equal footing with himself."--'Lectures on the Drama' v. p. 67. + + 66 It has been observed that the annual procession of the sacred ship + so often represented on Egyptian monuments, and the return of the + deity from Ethiopia after some days' absence, serves to show the + Ethiopian origin of Thebes, and of the worship of Jupiter Ammon. "I + think," says Heeren, after quoting a passage from Diodorus about the + holy ship, "that this procession is represented in one of the great + sculptured reliefs on the temple of Karnak. The sacred ship of Ammon + is on the shore with its whole equipment, and is towed along by + another boat. It is therefore on its voyage. This must have been one + of the most celebrated festivals, since, even according to the + interpretation of antiquity, Homer alludes to it when he speaks of + Jupiter's visit to the Ethiopians, and his twelve days' + absence."--Long, "Egyptian Antiquities" vol. 1 p. 96. Eustathius, + vol. 1 p. 98, sq. (ed. Basil) gives this interpretation, and + likewise an allegorical one, which we will spare the reader. + + 67 --_Atoned,_ i.e. reconciled. This is the proper and most natural + meaning of the word, as may be seen from Taylor's remarks in + Calmet's Dictionary, p.110, of my edition. + + 68 That is, drawing back their necks while they cut their throats. "If + the sacrifice was in honour of the celestial gods, the throat was + bent upwards towards heaven; but if made to the heroes, or infernal + deities, it was killed with its throat toward the ground."-- "Elgin + Marbles," vol i. p.81. + + "The jolly crew, unmindful of the past, + The quarry share, their plenteous dinner haste, + Some strip the skin; some portion out the spoil; + The limbs yet trembling, in the caldrons boil; + Some on the fire the reeking entrails broil. + Stretch'd on the grassy turf, at ease they dine, + Restore their strength with meat, and cheer their souls with + wine." + + Dryden's "Virgil," i. 293. + + 69 --_Crown'd, i.e._ filled to the brim. The custom of adorning goblets + with flowers was of later date. + + 70 --_He spoke,_ &c. "When a friend inquired of Phidias what pattern he + had formed his Olympian Jupiter, he is said to have answered by + repeating the lines of the first Iliad in which the poet represents + the majesty of the god in the most sublime terms; thereby signifying + that the genius of Homer had inspired him with it. Those who beheld + this statue are said to have been so struck with it as to have asked + whether Jupiter had descended from heaven to show himself to + Phidias, or whether Phidias had been carried thither to contemplate + the god."-- "Elgin Marbles," vol. xii p.124. + + 71 "So was his will + Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath, + That shook heav'n's whole circumference, confirm'd." + + "Paradise Lost" ii. 351. + + 72 --_A double bowl, i.e._ a vessel with a cup at both ends, something + like the measures by which a halfpenny or pennyworth of nuts is + sold. See Buttmann, Lexic. p. 93 sq. + + 73 "Paradise Lost," i. 44. + + "Him th' Almighty power + Hurl'd headlong flaming from th ethereal sky, + With hideous ruin and combustion" + + 74 The occasion on which Vulcan incurred Jove's displeasure was + this--After Hercules, had taken and pillaged Troy, Juno raised a + storm, which drove him to the island of Cos, having previously cast + Jove into a sleep, to prevent him aiding his son. Jove, in revenge, + fastened iron anvils to her feet, and hung her from the sky, and + Vulcan, attempting to relieve her, was kicked down from Olympus in + the manner described. The allegorists have gone mad in finding deep + explanations for this amusing fiction. See Heraclides, 'Ponticus," + p. 463 sq., ed Gale. The story is told by Homer himself in Book xv. + The Sinthians were a race of robbers, the ancient inhabitants of + Lemnos which island was ever after sacred to Vulcan. + + "Nor was his name unheard or unadored + In ancient Greece, and in Ausonian land + Men call'd him Mulciber, and how he fell + From heaven, they fabled, thrown by angry Jove + Sheer o'er the crystal battlements from morn + To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, + A summer's day and with the setting sun + Dropp'd from the zenith like a falling star + On Lemnos, th' Aegean isle thus they relate." + + "Paradise Lost," i. 738 + + 75 It is ingeniously observed by Grote, vol i p. 463, that "The gods + formed a sort of political community of their own which had its + hierarchy, its distribution of ranks and duties, its contentions for + power and occasional revolutions, its public meetings in the agora + of Olympus, and its multitudinous banquets or festivals." + + 76 Plato, Rep. iii. p. 437, was so scandalized at this deception of + Jupiter's, and at his other attacks on the character of the gods, + that he would fain sentence him to an honourable banishment. (See + Minucius Felix, Section 22.) Coleridge, Introd. p. 154, well + observes, that the supreme father of gods and men had a full right + to employ a lying spirit to work out his ultimate will. Compare + "Paradise Lost," v. 646: + + "And roseate dews disposed + All but the unsleeping eyes of God to rest." + + 77 --_Dream_ ought to be spelt with a capital letter, being, I think, + evidently personified as the god of dreams. See Anthon and others. + + "When, by Minerva sent, a _fraudful_ Dream + Rush'd from the skies, the bane of her and Troy." + + Dyce's "Select Translations from Quintus Calaber," p.10. + + 78 "Sleep'st thou, companion dear, what sleep can close + Thy eye-lids?" + + --"Paradise Lost," v. 673. + + 79 This truly military sentiment has been echoed by the approving voice + of many a general and statesman of antiquity. See Pliny's Panegyric + on Trajan. Silius neatly translates it, + + + "Turpe duci totam somno consumere noctem." + + + 80 --_The same in habit, &c._ + + "To whom once more the winged god appears; + His former youthful mien and shape he wears." + + Dryden's Virgil, iv. 803. + + 81 "As bees in spring-time, when + The sun with Taurus rides, + Pour forth their populous youth about the hive + In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers + Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, + The suburb of this straw-built citadel, + New-nibb'd with balm, expatiate and confer + Their state affairs. So thick the very crowd + Swarm'd and were straiten'd."--"Paradise Lost" i. 768. + + 82 It was the herald's duty to make the people sit down. "A _standing_ + agora is a symptom of manifest terror (II. Xviii. 246) an evening + agora, to which men came elevated by wine, is also the forerunner of + mischief ('Odyssey,' iii. 138)."--Grote, ii. p. 91, _note._ + + 83 This sceptre, like that of Judah (Genesis xlix. 10), is a type of + the supreme and far-spread dominion of the house of the Atrides. See + Thucydides i. 9. "It is traced through the hands of Hermes, he being + the wealth giving god, whose blessing is most efficacious in + furthering the process of acquisition."--Grote, i. p. 212. Compare + Quintus Calaber (Dyce's Selections, p. 43). + + "Thus the monarch spoke, + Then pledged the chief in a capacious cup, + Golden, and framed by art divine (a gift + Which to Almighty Jove lame Vulcan brought + Upon his nuptial day, when he espoused + The Queen of Love), the sire of gods bestow'd + The cup on Dardanus, who gave it next + To Ericthonius Tros received it then, + And left it, with his wealth, to be possess'd + By Ilus he to great Laomedon + Gave it, and last to Priam's lot it fell." + + 84 Grote, i, p. 393, states the number of the Grecian forces at upwards + of 100,000 men. Nichols makes a total of 135,000. + + 85 "As thick as when a field + Of Ceres, ripe for harvest, waving bends + His bearded grove of ears, which way the wind + Sways them."--Paradise Lost," iv. 980, sqq. + + 86 This sentiment used to be a popular one with some of the greatest + tyrants, who abused it into a pretext for unlimited usurpation of + power. Dion, Caligula, and Domitian were particularly fond of it, + and, in an extended form, we find the maxim propounded by Creon in + the Antigone of Sophocles. See some important remarks of Heeren, + "Ancient Greece," ch. vi. p. 105. + + 87 It may be remarked, that the character of Thersites, revolting and + contemptible as it is, serves admirably to develop the disposition + of Ulysses in a new light, in which mere cunning is less prominent. + Of the gradual and individual development of Homer's heroes, + Schlegel well observes, "In bas-relief the figures are usually in + profile, and in the epos all are characterized in the simplest + manner in relief; they are not grouped together, but follow one + another; so Homer's heroes advance, one by one, in succession before + us. It has been remarked that the _Iliad_ is not definitively + closed, but that we are left to suppose something both to precede + and to follow it. The bas-relief is equally without limit, and may + be continued _ad infinitum,_ either from before or behind, on which + account the ancients preferred for it such subjects as admitted of + an indefinite extension, sacrificial processions, dances, and lines + of combatants, and hence they also exhibit bas-reliefs on curved + surfaces, such as vases, or the frieze of a rotunda, where, by the + curvature, the two ends are withdrawn from our sight, and where, + while we advance, one object appears as another disappears. Reading + Homer is very much like such a circuit; the present object alone + arresting our attention, we lose sight of what precedes, and do not + concern ourselves about what is to follow."--"Dramatic Literature," + p. 75. + + 88 "There cannot be a clearer indication than this description --so + graphic in the original poem--of the true character of the Homeric + agora. The multitude who compose it are listening and acquiescent, + not often hesitating, and never refractory to the chief. The fate + which awaits a presumptuous critic, even where his virulent + reproaches are substantially well-founded, is plainly set forth in + the treatment of Thersites; while the unpopularity of such a + character is attested even more by the excessive pains which Homer + takes to heap upon him repulsive personal deformities, than by the + chastisement of Odysseus he is lame, bald, crook-backed, of + misshapen head, and squinting vision."--Grote, vol. i. p. 97. + + 89 According to Pausanias, both the sprig and the remains of the tree + were exhibited in his time. The tragedians, Lucretius and others, + adopted a different fable to account for the stoppage at Aulis, and + seem to have found the sacrifice of Iphigena better suited to form + the subject of a tragedy. Compare Dryden's "AEneid," vol. iii. sqq. + + 90 --_Full of his god, i.e.,_ Apollo, filled with the prophetic spirit. + "_The_ god" would be more simple and emphatic. + + 91 Those critics who have maintained that the "Catalogue of Ships" is + an interpolation, should have paid more attention to these lines, + which form a most natural introduction to their enumeration. + + 92 The following observation will be useful to Homeric readers: + "Particular animals were, at a later time, consecrated to particular + deities. To Jupiter, Ceres, Juno, Apollo, and Bacchus victims of + advanced age might be offered. An ox of five years old was + considered especially acceptable to Jupiter. A black bull, a ram, or + a boar pig, were offerings for Neptune. A heifer, or a sheep, for + Minerva. To Ceres a sow was sacrificed, as an enemy to corn. The + goat to Bacchus, because he fed on vines. Diana was propitiated with + a stag; and to Venus the dove was consecrated. The infernal and evil + deities were to be appeased with black victims. The most acceptable + of all sacrifices was the heifer of a year old, which had never + borne the yoke. It was to be perfect in every limb, healthy, and + without blemish."--"Elgin Marbles," vol. i. p. 78. + + 93 --_Idomeneus,_ son of Deucalion, was king of Crete. Having vowed, + during a tempest, on his return from Troy, to sacrifice to Neptune + the first creature that should present itself to his eye on the + Cretan shore, his son fell a victim to his rash vow. + + 94 --_Tydeus' son, i.e._ Diomed. + + 95 That is, Ajax, the son of Oileus, a Locrian. He must be + distinguished from the other, who was king of Salamis. + + 96 A great deal of nonsense has been written to account for the word + _unbid,_ in this line. Even Plato, "Sympos." p. 315, has found some + curious meaning in what, to us, appears to need no explanation. Was + there any _heroic_ rule of etiquette which prevented one + brother-king visiting another without a formal invitation? + + 97 Fresh water fowl, especially swans, were found in great numbers + about the Asian Marsh, a fenny tract of country in Lydia, formed by + the river Cayster, near its mouth. See Virgil, "Georgics," vol. i. + 383, sq. + + 98 --_Scamander,_ or Scamandros, was a river of Troas, rising, according + to Strabo, on the highest part of Mount Ida, in the same hill with + the Granicus and the OEdipus, and falling into the sea at Sigaeum; + everything tends to identify it with Mendere, as Wood, Rennell, and + others maintain; the Mendere is 40 miles long, 300 feet broad, deep + in the time of flood, nearly dry in the summer. Dr. Clarke + successfully combats the opinion of those who make the Scamander to + have arisen from the springs of Bounabarshy, and traces the source + of the river to the highest mountain in the chain of Ida, now + Kusdaghy; receives the Simois in its course; towards its mouth it is + very muddy, and flows through marshes. Between the Scamander and + Simois, Homer's Troy is supposed to have stood: this river, + according to Homer, was called Xanthus by the gods, Scamander by + men. The waters of the Scamander had the singular property of giving + a beautiful colour to the hair or wool of such animals as bathed in + them; hence the three goddesses, Minerva, Juno, and Venus, bathed + there before they appeared before Paris to obtain the golden apple: + the name Xanthus, "yellow," was given to the Scamander, from the + peculiar colour of its waters, still applicable to the Mendere, the + yellow colour of whose waters attracts the attention of travellers. + + 99 It should be "his _chest_ like Neptune." The torso of Neptune, in + the "Elgin Marbles," No. 103, (vol. ii. p. 26,) is remarkable for + its breadth and massiveness of development. + + 100 "Say first, for heav'n hides nothing from thy view." + + --"Paradise Lost," i. 27. + + "Ma di' tu, Musa, come i primi danni + Mandassero a Cristiani, e di quai parti: + Tu 'l sai; ma di tant' opra a noi si lunge + Debil aura di fama appena giunge." + + --"Gier. Lib." iv. 19. + + 101 "The Catalogue is, perhaps, the portion of the poem in favour of + which a claim to separate authorship has been most plausibly urged. + Although the example of Homer has since rendered some such formal + enumeration of the forces engaged, a common practice in epic poems + descriptive of great warlike adventures, still so minute a + statistical detail can neither be considered as imperatively + required, nor perhaps such as would, in ordinary cases, suggest + itself to the mind of a poet. Yet there is scarcely any portion of + the Iliad where both historical and internal evidence are more + clearly in favour of a connection from the remotest period, with the + remainder of the work. The composition of the Catalogue, whensoever + it may have taken place, necessarily presumes its author's + acquaintance with a previously existing Iliad. It were impossible + otherwise to account for the harmony observable in the recurrence of + so vast a number of proper names, most of them historically + unimportant, and not a few altogether fictitious: or of so many + geographical and genealogical details as are condensed in these few + hundred lines, and incidentally scattered over the thousands which + follow: equally inexplicable were the pointed allusions occurring in + this episode to events narrated in the previous and subsequent text, + several of which could hardly be of traditional notoriety, but + through the medium of the Iliad."--Mure, "Language and Literature of + Greece," vol. i. p. 263. + + 102 --_Twice Sixty:_ "Thucydides observes that the Boeotian vessels, + which carried one hundred and twenty men each, were probably meant + to be the largest in the fleet, and those of Philoctetes, carrying + fifty each, the smallest. The average would be eighty-five, and + Thucydides supposes the troops to have rowed and navigated + themselves; and that very few, besides the chiefs, went as mere + passengers or landsmen. In short, we have in the Homeric + descriptions the complete picture of an Indian or African war canoe, + many of which are considerably larger than the largest scale + assigned to those of the Greeks. If the total number of the Greek + ships be taken at twelve hundred, according to Thucydides, although + in point of fact there are only eleven hundred and eighty-six in the + Catalogue, the amount of the army, upon the foregoing average, will + be about a hundred and two thousand men. The historian considers + this a small force as representing all Greece. Bryant, comparing it + with the allied army at Platae, thinks it so large as to prove the + entire falsehood of the whole story; and his reasonings and + calculations are, for their curiosity, well worth a careful + perusal."--Coleridge, p. 211, sq. + + 103 The mention of Corinth is an anachronism, as that city was called + Ephyre before its capture by the Dorians. But Velleius, vol. i. p. + 3, well observes, that the poet would naturally speak of various + towns and cities by the names by which they were known in his own + time. + + 104 "Adam, the goodliest man of men since born, + His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve.' + + --"Paradise Lost," iv. 323. + + 105 --_AEsetes' tomb._ Monuments were often built on the sea-coast, and of + a considerable height, so as to serve as watch-towers or land marks. + See my notes to my prose translations of the "Odyssey," ii. p. 21, + or on Eur. "Alcest." vol. i. p. 240. + + 106 --_Zeleia,_ another name for Lycia. The inhabitants were greatly + devoted to the worship of Apollo. See Muller, "Dorians," vol. i. p. + 248. + + 107 --_Barbarous tongues._ "Various as were the dialects of the + Greeks--and these differences existed not only between the several + tribes, but even between neighbouring cities--they yet acknowledged + in their language that they formed but one nation were but branches + of the same family. Homer has 'men of other tongues:' and yet Homer + had no general name for the Greek nation."--Heeren, "Ancient Greece," + Section vii. p. 107, sq. + + _ 108 The cranes._ + "Marking the tracts of air, the clamorous cranes + Wheel their due flight in varied ranks descried: + And each with outstretch'd neck his rank maintains, + In marshall'd order through th' ethereal void." + + Lorenzo de Medici, in Roscoe's Life, Appendix. + + See Cary's Dante: "Hell," canto v. + + _ 109 Silent, breathing rage._ + "Thus they, + Breathing united force with fixed thought, + Moved on in silence." + + "Paradise Lost," book i. 559. + + 110 "As when some peasant in a bushy brake + Has with unwary footing press'd a snake; + He starts aside, astonish'd, when he spies + His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes" + + Dryden's Virgil, ii. 510. + + 111 Dysparis, i.e. unlucky, ill fated, Paris. This alludes to the evils + which resulted from his having been brought up, despite the omens + which attended his birth. + + 112 The following scene, in which Homer has contrived to introduce so + brilliant a sketch of the Grecian warriors, has been imitated by + Euripides, who in his "Phoenissae" represents Antigone surveying the + opposing champions from a high tower, while the paedagogus describes + their insignia and details their histories. + + 113 --_No wonder,_ &c. Zeuxis, the celebrated artist, is said to have + appended these lines to his picture of Helen, as a motto. Valer Max. + iii. 7. + + 114 The early epic was largely occupied with the exploits and sufferings + of women, or heroines, the wives and daughters of the Grecian + heroes. A nation of courageous, hardy, indefatigable women, dwelling + apart from men, permitting only a short temporary intercourse, for + the purpose of renovating their numbers, burning out their right + breast with a view of enabling themselves to draw the bow freely; + this was at once a general type, stimulating to the fancy of the + poet, and a theme eminently popular with his hearers. We find these + warlike females constantly reappearing in the ancient poems, and + universally accepted as past realities in the Iliad. When Priam + wishes to illustrate emphatically the most numerous host in which he + ever found himself included, he tells us that it was assembled in + Phrygia, on the banks of the Sangarius, for the purpose of resisting + the formidable Amazons. When Bellerophon is to be employed in a + deadly and perilous undertaking, by those who prudently wished to + procure his death, he is despatched against the Amazons.--Grote, vol. + i p. 289. + + 115 --_Antenor,_ like AEneas, had always been favourable to the + restoration of Helen. Liv 1. 2. + + 116 "His lab'ring heart with sudden rapture seized + He paus'd, and on the ground in silence gazed. + Unskill'd and uninspired he seems to stand, + Nor lifts the eye, nor graceful moves the hand: + Then, while the chiefs in still attention hung, + Pours the full tide of eloquence along; + While from his lips the melting torrent flows, + Soft as the fleeces of descending snows. + Now stronger notes engage the listening crowd, + Louder the accents rise, and yet more loud, + Like thunders rolling from a distant cloud." + + Merrick's "Tryphiodorus," 148, 99. + + 117 Duport, "Gnomol. Homer," p. 20, well observes that this comparison + may also be sarcastically applied to the _frigid_ style of oratory. + It, of course, here merely denotes the ready fluency of Ulysses. + + 118 --_Her brothers' doom._ They perished in combat with Lynceus and + Idas, whilst besieging Sparta. See Hygin. Poet Astr. 32, 22. Virgil + and others, however, make them share immortality by turns. + + 119 Idreus was the arm-bearer and charioteer of king Priam, slain during + this war. Cf. AEn, vi. 487. + + 120 --_Scaea's gates,_ rather _Scaean gates,_ _i.e._ the left-hand gates. + + 121 This was customary in all sacrifices. Hence we find Iras descending + to cut off the hair of Dido, before which she could not expire. + + 122 --_Nor pierced._ + + "This said, his feeble hand a jav'lin threw, + Which, flutt'ring, seemed to loiter as it flew, + Just, and but barely, to the mark it held, + And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield." + + Dryden's Virgil, ii. 742. + +_ 123 Reveal'd the queen._ + + "Thus having said, she turn'd and made appear + Her neck refulgent and dishevell'd hair, + Which, flowing from her shoulders, reach'd the ground, + And widely spread ambrosial scents around. + In length of train descends her sweeping gown; + And, by her graceful walk, the queen of love is known." + + Dryden's Virgil, i. 556. + + 124 --_Cranae's isle, i.e._ Athens. See the "Schol." and Alberti's + "Hesychius," vol. ii. p. 338. This name was derived from one of its + early kings, Cranaus. + + 125 --_The martial maid._ In the original, "Minerva Alalcomeneis," _i.e. + the defender,_ so called from her temple at Alalcomene in Boeotia. + + 126 "Anything for a quiet life!" + + 127 --_Argos._ The worship of Juno at Argos was very celebrated in + ancient times, and she was regarded as the patron deity of that + city. Apul. Met., vi. p. 453; Servius on Virg. AEn., i. 28. + + 128 --_A wife and sister._ + + "But I, who walk in awful state above + The majesty of heav'n, the sister-wife of Jove." + + Dryden's "Virgil," i. 70. + + So Apuleius, _l. c._ speaks of her as "Jovis germana et conjux, and + so Horace, Od. iii. 3, 64, "conjuge me Jovis et sorore." + + 129 "Thither came Uriel, gleaming through the even + On a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star + In autumn thwarts the night, when vapours fired + Impress the air, and shows the mariner + From what point of his compass to beware + Impetuous winds." + + --"Paradise Lost," iv. 555. + + 130 --_AEsepus' flood._ A river of Mysia, rising from Mount Cotyius, in + the southern part of the chain of Ida. + + 131 --_Zelia,_ a town of Troas, at the foot of Ida. + + 132 --_Podaleirius_ and _Machaon_ are the leeches of the Grecian army, + highly prized and consulted by all the wounded chiefs. Their medical + renown was further prolonged in the subsequent poem of Arktinus, the + Iliou Persis, wherein the one was represented as unrivalled in + surgical operations, the other as sagacious in detecting and + appreciating morbid symptoms. It was Podaleirius who first noticed + the glaring eyes and disturbed deportment which preceded the suicide + of Ajax. + + "Galen appears uncertain whether Asklepius (as well as Dionysus) was + originally a god, or whether he was first a man and then became + afterwards a god; but Apollodorus professed to fix the exact date of + his apotheosis. Throughout all the historical ages the descendants + of Asklepius were numerous and widely diffused. The many families or + gentes, called Asklepiads, who devoted themselves to the study and + practice of medicine, and who principally dwelt near the temples of + Asklepius, whither sick and suffering men came to obtain relief--all + recognized the god not merely as the object of their common worship, + but also as their actual progenitor."--Grote vol. i. p. 248. + + 133 "The plant she bruises with a stone, and stands + Tempering the juice between her ivory hands + This o'er her breast she sheds with sovereign art + And bathes with gentle touch the wounded part + The wound such virtue from the juice derives, + At once the blood is stanch'd, the youth revives." + + "Orlando Furioso," book 1. + + 134 --_Well might I wish._ + + "Would heav'n (said he) my strength and youth recall, + Such as I was beneath Praeneste's wall-- + Then when I made the foremost foes retire, + And set whole heaps of conquer'd shields on fire; + When Herilus in single fight I slew, + Whom with three lives Feronia did endue." + + Dryden's Virgil, viii. 742. + + 135 --_Sthenelus,_ a son of Capaneus, one of the Epigoni. He was one of + the suitors of Helen, and is said to have been one of those who + entered Troy inside the wooden horse. + + 136 --_Forwarn'd the horrors._ The same portent has already been + mentioned. To this day, modern nations are not wholly free from this + superstition. + + 137 --_Sevenfold city,_ Boeotian Thebes, which had seven gates. + + 138 --_As when the winds._ + + "Thus, when a black-brow'd gust begins to rise, + White foam at first on the curl'd ocean fries; + Then roars the main, the billows mount the skies, + Till, by the fury of the storm full blown, + The muddy billow o'er the clouds is thrown." + + Dryden's Virgil, vii. 736. + + 139 "Stood + Like Teneriffe or Atlas unremoved; + His stature reach'd the sky." + + --"Paradise Lost," iv. 986. + + 140 The Abantes seem to have been of Thracian origin. + + 141 I may, once for all, remark that Homer is most anatomically correct + as to the parts of the body in which a wound would be immediately + mortal. + + 142 --_AEnus,_ a fountain almost proverbial for its coldness. + + 143 Compare Tasso, Gier. Lib., xx. 7: + + "Nuovo favor del cielo in lui niluce + E 'l fa grande, et angusto oltre il costume. + Gl' empie d' honor la faccia, e vi riduce + Di giovinezza il bel purpureo lume." + + 144 "Or deluges, descending on the plains, + Sweep o'er the yellow year, destroy the pains + Of lab'ring oxen, and the peasant's gains; + Uproot the forest oaks, and bear away + Flocks, folds, and trees, an undistinguish'd prey." + + Dryden's Virgil ii. 408. + + 145 --_From mortal mists._ + + "But to nobler sights + Michael from Adam's eyes the film removed." + + "Paradise Lost," xi. 411. + + 146 --_The race of those._ + + "A pair of coursers, born of heav'nly breed, + Who from their nostrils breathed ethereal fire; + Whom Circe stole from her celestial sire, + By substituting mares produced on earth, + Whose wombs conceived a more than mortal birth. + + Dryden's Virgil, vii. 386, sqq. + + 147 The belief in the existence of men of larger stature in earlier + times, is by no means confined to Homer. + + 148 --_Such stream, i.e._ the _ichor,_ or blood of the gods. + + "A stream of nect'rous humour issuing flow'd, + Sanguine, such as celestial spirits may bleed." + + "Paradise Lost," vi. 339. + + 149 This was during the wars with the Titans. + + 150 --_Amphitryon's son,_ Hercules, born to Jove by Alcmena, the wife of + Amphitryon. + + 151 --_AEgiale_ daughter of Adrastus. The Cyclic poets (See Anthon's + Lempriere, _s. v._) assert Venus incited her to infidelity, in + revenge for the wound she had received from her husband. + + 152 --_Pherae,_ a town of Pelasgiotis, in Thessaly. + + 153 --_Tlepolemus,_ son of Hercules and Astyochia. Having left his native + country, Argos, in consequence of the accidental murder of + Liscymnius, he was commanded by an oracle to retire to Rhodes. Here + he was chosen king, and accompanied the Trojan expedition. After his + death, certain games were instituted at Rhodes in his honour, the + victors being rewarded with crowns of poplar. + + 154 These heroes' names have since passed into a kind of proverb, + designating the _oi polloi_ or mob. + + 155 --_Spontaneous open._ + + "Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, upspringing light + Flew through the midst of heaven; th' angelic quires, + On each hand parting, to his speed gave way + Through all th' empyreal road; till at the gate + Of heaven arrived, the gate self-open'd wide, + On golden hinges turning." + + --"Paradise Lost," v. 250. + + 156 "Till Morn, + Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand + Unbarr'd the gates of light." + + --"Paradise Lost," vi, 2. + + 157 --_Far as a shepherd._ "With what majesty and pomp does Homer exalt + his deities! He here measures the leap of the horses by the extent + of the world. And who is there, that, considering the exceeding + greatness of the space would not with reason cry out that 'If the + steeds of the deity were to take a second leap, the world would want + room for it'?"--Longinus, Section 8. + + 158 "No trumpets, or any other instruments of sound, are used in the + Homeric action itself; but the trumpet was known, and is introduced + for the purpose of illustration as employed in war. Hence arose the + value of a loud voice in a commander; Stentor was an indispensable + officer... In the early Saracen campaigns frequent mention is made + of the service rendered by men of uncommonly strong voices; the + battle of Honain was restored by the shouts and menaces of Abbas, + the uncle of Mohammed," &c.--Coleridge, p. 213. + + 159 "Long had the wav'ring god the war delay'd, + While Greece and Troy alternate own'd his aid." + + Merrick's "Tryphiodorus," vi. 761, sq. + + 160 --_Paeon_ seems to have been to the gods, what Podaleirius and + Machaon were to the Grecian heroes. + + 161 --_Arisbe,_ a colony of the Mitylenaeans in Troas. + + 162 --_Pedasus,_ a town near Pylos. + + 163 --_Rich heaps of brass._ "The halls of Alkinous and Menelaus glitter + with gold, copper, and electrum; while large stocks of yet + unemployed metal--gold, copper, and iron are stored up in the + treasure-chamber of Odysseus and other chiefs. Coined money is + unknown in the Homeric age--the trade carried on being one of barter. + In reference also to the metals, it deserves to be remarked, that + the Homeric descriptions universally suppose copper, and not iron, + to be employed for arms, both offensive and defensive. By what + process the copper was tempered and hardened, so as to serve the + purpose of the warrior, we do not know; but the use of iron for + these objects belongs to a later age."--Grote, vol. ii. p. 142. + + 164 --_Oh impotent,_ &c. "In battle, quarter seems never to have been + given, except with a view to the ransom of the prisoner. Agamemnon + reproaches Menelaus with unmanly softness, when he is on the point + of sparing a fallen enemy, and himself puts the suppliant to the + sword."--Thirlwall, vol. i. p. 181 + + 165 "The ruthless steel, impatient of delay, + Forbade the sire to linger out the day. + It struck the bending father to the earth, + And cropt the wailing infant at the birth. + Can innocents the rage of parties know, + And they who ne'er offended find a foe?" + + Rowe's Lucan, bk. ii. + + 166 "Meantime the Trojan dames, oppress'd with woe, + To Pallas' fane in long procession go, + In hopes to reconcile their heav'nly foe: + They weep; they beat their breasts; they rend their hair, + And rich embroider'd vests for presents bear." + + Dryden's Virgil, i. 670 + + 167 The manner in which this episode is introduced, is well illustrated + by the following remarks of Mure, vol. i. p.298: "The poet's method + of introducing his episode, also, illustrates in a curious manner + his tact in the dramatic department of his art. Where, for example, + one or more heroes are despatched on some commission, to be executed + at a certain distance of time or place, the fulfilment of this task + is not, as a general rule, immediately described. A certain interval + is allowed them for reaching the appointed scene of action, which + interval is dramatised, as it were, either by a temporary + continuation of the previous narrative, or by fixing attention for a + while on some new transaction, at the close of which the further + account of the mission is resumed." + + 168 --_With tablets sealed._ These probably were only devices of a + hieroglyphical character. Whether writing was known in the Homeric + times is utterly uncertain. See Grote, vol ii. p. 192, sqq. + + 169 --_Solymaean crew,_ a people of Lycia. + + 170 From this "melancholy madness" of Bellerophon, hypochondria received + the name of "Morbus Bellerophonteus." See my notes in my prose + translation, p. 112. The "Aleian field," _i.e._ "the plain of + wandering," was situated between the rivers Pyramus and Pinarus, in + Cilicia. + + 171 --_His own, of gold._ This bad bargain has passed into a common + proverb. See Aulus Gellius, ii, 23. + + 172 --_Scaean, i e._ left hand. + + 173 --_In fifty chambers._ + + "The fifty nuptial beds, (such hopes had he, + So large a promise of a progeny,) + The ports of plated gold, and hung with spoils." + + Dryden's Virgil, ii.658 + + 174 --_O would kind earth,_ &c. "It is apparently a sudden, irregular + burst of popular indignation to which Hector alludes, when he + regrets that the Trojans had not spirit enough to cover Paris with a + mantle of stones. This, however, was also one of the ordinary formal + modes of punishment for great public offences. It may have been + originally connected with the same feeling--the desire of avoiding + the pollution of bloodshed--which seems to have suggested the + practice of burying prisoners alive, with a scantling of food by + their side. Though Homer makes no mention of this horrible usage, + the example of the Roman Vestals affords reasons for believing that, + in ascribing it to the heroic ages, Sophocles followed an authentic + tradition."--Thirlwall's Greece, vol. i. p. 171, sq. + + 175 --_Paris' lofty dome._ "With respect to the private dwellings, which + are oftenest described, the poet's language barely enables us to + form a general notion of their ordinary plan, and affords no + conception of the style which prevailed in them or of their effect + on the eye. It seems indeed probable, from the manner in which he + dwells on their metallic ornaments that the higher beauty of + proportion was but little required or understood, and it is, + perhaps, strength and convenience, rather than elegance, that he + means to commend, in speaking of the fair house which Paris had + built for himself with the aid of the most skilful masons of + Troy."--Thirlwall's Greece, vol. i. p. 231. + + 176 --_The wanton courser._ + + "Come destrier, che da le regie stalle + Ove a l'usa de l'arme si riserba, + Fugge, e libero al fiu per largo calle + Va tragl' armenti, o al fiume usato, o a l'herba." + + Gier, Lib. ix. 75. + + 177 --_Casque._ The original word is stephanae, about the meaning of + which there is some little doubt. Some take it for a different kind + of cap or helmet, others for the rim, others for the cone, of the + helmet. + + 178 --_Athenian maid:_ Minerva. + + 179 --_Celadon,_ a river of Elis. + + 180 --_Oileus, i.e._ Ajax, the son of Oileus, in contradistinction to + Ajax, son of Telamon. + + 181 --_In the general's helm._ It was customary to put the lots into a + helmet, in which they were well shaken up; each man then took his + choice. + + 182 --_God of Thrace._ Mars, or Mavors, according to his Thracian + epithet. Hence "Mavortia Moenia." + + 183 --_Grimly he smiled._ + + "And death + Grinn'd horribly a ghastly smile." + + --"Paradise Lost," ii. 845. + + "There Mavors stands + Grinning with ghastly feature." + + --Carey's Dante: Hell, v. + + 184 "Sete o guerrieri, incomincio Pindoro, + Con pari honor di pari ambo possenti, + Dunque cessi la pugna, e non sian rotte + Le ragioni, e 'l riposo, e de la notte." + + --Gier. Lib. vi. 51. + + 185 It was an ancient style of compliment to give a larger portion of + food to the conqueror, or person to whom respect was to be shown. + See Virg. AEn. viii. 181. Thus Benjamin was honoured with a "double + portion." Gen. xliii. 34. + + 186 --_Embattled walls._ "Another essential basis of mechanical unity in + the poem is the construction of the rampart. This takes place in the + seventh book. The reason ascribed for the glaring improbability that + the Greeks should have left their camp and fleet unfortified during + nine years, in the midst of a hostile country, is a purely poetical + one: 'So long as Achilles fought, the terror of his name sufficed to + keep every foe at a distance.' The disasters consequent on his + secession first led to the necessity of other means of protection. + Accordingly, in the battles previous to the eighth book, no allusion + occurs to a rampart; in all those which follow it forms a prominent + feature. Here, then, in the anomaly as in the propriety of the + Iliad, the destiny of Achilles, or rather this peculiar crisis of + it, forms the pervading bond of connexion to the whole poem."--Mure, + vol. i., p. 257. + + 187 --_What cause of fear,_ &c. + + "Seest thou not this? Or do we fear in vain + Thy boasted thunders, and thy thoughtless reign?" + + Dryden's Virgil, iv. 304. + + 188 --_In exchange._ These lines are referred to by Theophilus, the Roman + lawyer, iii. tit. xxiii. Section 1, as exhibiting the most ancient + mention of barter. + + 189 "A similar bond of connexion, in the military details of the + narrative, is the decree issued by Jupiter, at the commencement of + the eighth book, against any further interference of the gods in the + battles. In the opening of the twentieth book this interdict is + withdrawn. During the twelve intermediate books it is kept steadily + in view. No interposition takes place but on the part of the + specially authorised agents of Jove, or on that of one or two + contumacious deities, described as boldly setting his commands at + defiance, but checked and reprimanded for their disobedience; while + the other divine warriors, who in the previous and subsequent cantos + are so active in support of their favourite heroes, repeatedly + allude to the supreme edict as the cause of their present + inactivity."--Mure, vol. i. p 257. See however, Muller, "Greek + Literature," ch. v. Section 6, and Grote, vol. ii. p. 252. + + 190 "As far removed from God and light of heaven, + As from the centre thrice to th' utmost pole." + + --"Paradise Lost." + + "E quanto e da le stelle al basso inferno, + Tanto e piu in su de la stellata spera" + + --Gier. Lib. i. 7. + + "Some of the epithets which Homer applies to the heavens seem to + imply that he considered it as a solid vault of metal. But it is not + necessary to construe these epithets so literally, nor to draw any + such inference from his description of Atlas, who holds the lofty + pillars which keep earth and heaven asunder. Yet it would seem, from + the manner in which the height of heaven is compared with the depth + of Tartarus, that the region of light was thought to have certain + bounds. The summit of the Thessalian Olympus was regarded as the + highest point on the earth, and it is not always carefully + distinguished from the aerian regions above The idea of a seat of + the gods--perhaps derived from a more ancient tradition, in which it + was not attached to any geographical site--seems to be indistinctly + blended in the poet's mind with that of the real + mountain."--Thirlwall's Greece, vol. i. p. 217, sq. + + 191 "Now lately heav'n, earth, another world + Hung e'er my realm, link'd in a golden chain + To that side heav'n." + + --"Paradise Lost," ii. 1004. + + 192 --_His golden scales._ + + "Jove now, sole arbiter of peace and war, + Held forth the fatal balance from afar: + Each host he weighs; by turns they both prevail, + Till Troy descending fix'd the doubtful scale." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, v 687, sqq. + + "Th' Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray, + Hung forth in heav'n his golden scales, + Wherein all things created first he weighed; + The pendulous round earth, with balanced air + In counterpoise; now ponders all events, + Battles and realms. In these he puts two weights, + The sequel each of parting and of fight: + The latter quick up flew, and kick'd the beam." + + "Paradise Lost," iv. 496. + + 193 --_And now,_ &c. + + "And now all heaven + Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspread; + Had not th' Almighty Father, where he sits + ... foreseen." + + --"Paradise Lost," vi. 669. + + 194 --_Gerenian Nestor._ The epithet _Gerenian_ either refers to the name + of a place in which Nestor was educated, or merely signifies + honoured, revered. See Schol. Venet. in II. B. 336; Strabo, viii. p. + 340. + + 195 --_AEgae, Helice._ Both these towns were conspicuous for their worship + of Neptune. + + 196 --_As full blown,_ &c. + + "Il suo Lesbia quasi bel fior succiso, + E in atto si gentil languir tremanti + Gl' occhi, e cader siu 'l tergo il collo mira." + + Gier. Lib. ix. 85. + + 197 --_Ungrateful,_ because the cause in which they were engaged was + unjust. + + "Struck by the lab'ring priests' uplifted hands + The victims fall: to heav'n they make their pray'r, + The curling vapours load the ambient air. + But vain their toil: the pow'rs who rule the skies + Averse beheld the ungrateful sacrifice." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, vi. 527, sqq. + + 198 "As when about the silver moon, when aire is free from + winde, + And stars shine cleare, to whose sweet beams high prospects on the + brows + Of all steepe hills and pinnacles thrust up themselves for shows, + And even the lowly valleys joy to glitter in their sight; + When the unmeasured firmament bursts to disclose her light, + And all the signs in heaven are seene, that glad the shepherd's + heart." + + Chapman. + + 199 This flight of the Greeks, according to Buttmann, Lexil. p. 358, was + not a supernatural flight caused by the gods, but "a great and + general one, caused by Hector and the Trojans, but with the approval + of Jove." + + 200 Grote, vol. ii. p. 91, after noticing the modest calmness and + respect with which Nestor addresses Agamemnon, observes, "The + Homeric Council is a purely consultative body, assembled not with + any power of peremptorily arresting mischievous resolves of the + king, but solely for his information and guidance." + + 201 In the heroic times, it is not unfrequent for the king to receive + presents to purchase freedom from his wrath, or immunity from his + exactions. Such gifts gradually became regular, and formed the + income of the German, (Tacit. Germ. Section 15) Persian, (Herodot. + iii.89), and other kings. So, too, in the middle ages, 'The feudal + aids are the beginning of taxation, of which they for a long time + answered the purpose.' (Hallam, Middle Ages, ch. x. pt. 1, p. 189) + This fact frees Achilles from the apparent charge of sordidness. + Plato, however, (De Rep. vi. 4), says, "We cannot commend Phoenix, + the tutor of Achilles, as if he spoke correctly, when counselling + him to accept of presents and assist the Greeks, but, without + presents, not to desist from his wrath, nor again, should we commend + Achilles himself, or approve of his being so covetous as to receive + presents from Agamemnon," &c. + + 202 It may be observed, that, brief as is the mention of Briseis in the + Iliad, and small the part she plays--what little is said is + pre-eminently calculated to enhance her fitness to be the bride of + Achilles. Purity, and retiring delicacy, are features well + contrasted with the rough, but tender disposition of the hero. + + 203 --_Laodice._ Iphianassa, or Iphigenia, is not mentioned by Homer, + among the daughters of Agamemnon. + + 204 "Agamemnon, when he offers to transfer to Achilles seven towns + inhabited by wealthy husbandmen, who would enrich their lord by + presents and tribute, seems likewise to assume rather a property in + them, than an authority over them. And the same thing may be + intimated when it is said that Peleus bestowed a great people, the + Dolopes of Phthia, on Phoenix."--Thirlwall's Greece, vol. i Section + 6, p. 162, note. + + 205 --_Pray in deep silence._ Rather: "use well-omened words;" or, as + Kennedy has explained it, "Abstain from expressions unsuitable to + the solemnity of the occasion, which, by offending the god, might + defeat the object of their supplications." + + 206 --_Purest hands._ This is one of the most ancient superstitions + respecting prayer, and one founded as much in nature as in + tradition. + + 207 It must be recollected, that the war at Troy was not a settled + siege, and that many of the chieftains busied themselves in + piratical expeditions about its neighborhood. Such a one was that of + which Achilles now speaks. From the following verses, it is evident + that fruits of these maraudings went to the common support of the + expedition, and not to the successful plunderer. + + 208 --_Pthia,_ the capital of Achilles' Thessalian domains. + + 209 --_Orchomenian town._ The topography of Orchomenus, in Boeotia, + "situated," as it was, "on the northern bank of the lake AEpais, + which receives not only the river Cephisus from the valleys of + Phocis, but also other rivers from Parnassus and Helicon" (Grote, + vol. p. 181), was a sufficient reason for its prosperity and decay. + "As long as the channels of these waters were diligently watched and + kept clear, a large portion of the lake was in the condition of + alluvial land, pre-eminently rich and fertile. But when the channels + came to be either neglected, or designedly choked up by an enemy, + the water accumulated in such a degree as to occupy the soil of more + than one ancient islet, and to occasion the change of the site of + Orchomenus itself from the plain to the declivity of Mount + Hyphanteion." (Ibid.) + + 210 The phrase "hundred gates," &c., seems to be merely expressive of a + great number. See notes to my prose translation, p. 162. + + 211 Compare the following pretty lines of Quintus Calaber (Dyce's Select + Translations, p 88).-- + + "Many gifts he gave, and o'er + Dolopia bade me rule; thee in his arms + He brought an infant, on my bosom laid + The precious charge, and anxiously enjoin'd + That I should rear thee as my own with all + A parent's love. I fail'd not in my trust + And oft, while round my neck thy hands were lock'd, + From thy sweet lips the half articulate sound + Of Father came; and oft, as children use, + Mewling and puking didst thou drench my tunic." + + "This description," observes my learned friend (notes, p. 121) "is + taken from the passage of Homer, II ix, in translating which, Pope, + with that squeamish, artificial taste, which distinguished the age + of Anne, omits the natural (and, let me add, affecting) + circumstance." + + "And the wine + Held to thy lips, and many a time in fits + Of infant frowardness the purple juice + Rejecting thou hast deluged all my vest, + And fill'd my bosom." + + --Cowper. + + 212 --_Where Calydon._ For a good sketch of the story of Meleager, too + long to be inserted here, see Grote, vol. i. p. 195, sqq.; and for + the authorities, see my notes to the prose translation, p. 166. + + 213 "_Gifts can conquer_"--It is well observed by Bishop Thirlwall, + "Greece," vol. i. p, 180, that the law of honour among the Greeks + did not compel them to treasure up in their memory the offensive + language which might be addressed to them by a passionate adversary, + nor to conceive that it left a stain which could only be washed away + by blood. Even for real and deep injuries they were commonly willing + to accept a pecuniary compensation." + + 214 "The boon of sleep."--Milton + + 215 "All else of nature's common gift partake: + Unhappy Dido was alone awake." + + --Dryden's Virgil, iv. 767. + + 216 --_The king of Crete:_ Idomeneus. + + 217 --_Soft wool within, i e._ a kind of woollen stuffing, pressed in + between the straps, to protect the head, and make the helmet fit + close. + + 218 "All the circumstances of this action--the night, Rhesus buried in a + profound sleep, and Diomede with the sword in his hand hanging over + the head of that prince--furnished Homer with the idea of this + fiction, which represents Rhesus lying fast asleep, and, as it were, + beholding his enemy in a dream, plunging the sword into his bosom. + This image is very natural; for a man in his condition awakes no + farther than to see confusedly what environs him, and to think it + not a reality but a dream."--Pope. + + "There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cry'd murder; + They wak'd each other." + + --_Macbeth._ + + 219 "Aurora now had left her saffron bed, + And beams of early light the heavens o'erspread." + + Dryden's Virgil, iv. 639 + + 220 --_Red drops of blood._ "This phenomenon, if a mere fruit of the + poet's imagination, might seem arbitrary or far-fetched. It is one, + however, of ascertained reality, and of no uncommon occurrence in + the climate of Greece."--Mure, i p. 493. Cf. Tasso, Gier. Lib. ix. + 15: + + "La terra in vece del notturno gelo + Bagnan rugiade tepide, e sanguigne." + + 221 "No thought of flight, + None of retreat, no unbecoming deed + That argued fear." + + --"Paradise Lost," vi. 236. + + 222 --_One of love._ Although a bastard brother received only a small + portion of the inheritance, he was commonly very well treated. Priam + appears to be the only one of whom polygamy is directly asserted in + the Iliad. Grote, vol. ii. p. 114, note. + + 223 "Circled with foes as when a packe of bloodie jackals cling + About a goodly palmed hart, hurt with a hunter's bow + Whose escape his nimble feet insure, whilst his warm blood doth + flow, + And his light knees have power to move: but (maistred by his + wound) + Embost within a shady hill, the jackals charge him round, + And teare his flesh--when instantly fortune sends in the powers + Of some sterne lion, with whose sighte they flie and he devours. + So they around Ulysses prest." + + --Chapman. + + 224 --_Simois, railing,_ &c. + + "In those bloody fields + Where Simois rolls the bodies and the shields + Of heroes." + + --Dryden's Virgil, i. 142. + + 225 "Where yon disorder'd heap of ruin lies, + Stones rent from stones,--where clouds of dust arise,-- + Amid that smother, Neptune holds his place, + Below the wall's foundation drives his mace, + And heaves the building from the solid base." + + Dryden's Virgil, ii. 825. + + 226 --_Why boast we._ + + "Wherefore do I assume + These royalties and not refuse to reign, + Refusing to accept as great a share + Of hazard as of honour, due alike to him + Who reigns, and so much to him due + Of hazard more, as he above the rest + High honour'd sits." + + --"Paradise Lost," ii. 450. + + 227 --_Each equal weight._ + + "Long time in even scale + The battle hung." + + --"Paradise Lost," vi. 245. + + 228 "He on his impious foes right onward drove, + _Gloomy as night._" + + --"Paradise Lost," vi. 831 + + 229 --_Renown'd for justice and for length of days,_ Arrian. de Exp. + Alex. iv. p. 239, also speaks of the independence of these people, + which he regards as the result of their poverty and uprightness. + Some authors have regarded the phrase "Hippomolgian," _i.e._ + "milking their mares," as an epithet applicable to numerous tribes, + since the oldest of the Samatian nomads made their mares' milk one + of their chief articles of diet. The epithet abion or abion, in this + passage, has occasioned much discussion. It may mean, according as + we read it, either "long-lived," or "bowless," the latter epithet + indicating that they did not depend upon archery for subsistence. + + 230 Compare Chapman's quaint, bold verses:-- + + "And as a round piece of a rocke, which with a winter's flood + Is from his top torn, when a shoure poured from a bursten cloud, + Hath broke the naturall band it had within the roughftey rock, + Flies jumping all adourne the woods, resounding everie shocke, + And on, uncheckt, it headlong leaps till in a plaine it stay, + And then (tho' never so impelled), it stirs not any way:-- + So Hector,--" + + 231 This book forms a most agreeable interruption to The continuous + round of battles, which occupy the latter part of the Iliad. It is + as well to observe, that the sameness of these scenes renders many + notes unnecessary. + + 232 --_Who to Tydeus owes, i.e._ Diomed. + + 233 Compare Tasso:-- + + Teneri sdegni, e placide, e tranquille + Repulse, e cari vezzi, e liete paci, + Sorrisi, parolette, e dolci stille + Di pianto, e sospir tronchi, e molli baci." + + Gier. Lib. xvi. 25 + + 234 Compare the description of the dwelling of Sleep in Orlando Furioso, + bk. vi. + + 235 "Twice seven, the charming daughters of the main-- + Around my person wait, and bear my train: + Succeed my wish, and second my design, + The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine." + + Dryden's Virgil, AEn. i. 107, seq. + + 236 --_And Minos._ "By Homer, Minos is described as the son of Jupiter, + and of the daughter of Phoenix, whom all succeeding authors name + Europa; and he is thus carried back into the remotest period of + Cretan antiquity known to the poet, apparently as a native hero, + Illustrious enough for a divine parentage, and too ancient to allow + his descent to be traced to any other source. But in a genealogy + recorded by later writers, he is likewise the adopted son of + Asterius, as descendant of Dorus, the son of Helen, and is thus + connected with a colony said to have been led into Creta by + Tentamus, or Tectamus, son of Dorus, who is related either to have + crossed over from Thessaly, or to have embarked at Malea after + having led his followers by land into Laconia."--Thirlwall, p. 136, + seq. + + 237 Milton has emulated this passage, in describing the couch of our + first parents:-- + + "Underneath the violet, + Crocus, and hyacinth with rich inlay, + 'Broider'd the ground." + + --"Paradise Lost," iv. 700. + + 238 --_He lies protected,_ + + "Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run + By angels many and strong, who interpos'd + Defence, while others bore him on their shields + Back to his chariot, where it stood retir'd + From off the files of war; there they him laid, + Gnashing for anguish, and despite, and shame." + + "Paradise Lost," vi. 335, seq. + + 239 --_The brazen dome._ See the note on Bk. viii. Page 142. + + 240 --_For, by the gods! who flies._ Observe the bold ellipsis of "he + cries," and the transition from the direct to the oblique + construction. So in Milton:-- + + "Thus at their shady lodge arriv'd, both stood, + Both turn'd, and under open sky ador'd + The God that made both sky, air, earth, and heaven, + Which they beheld, the moon's resplendent globe, + And starry pole.--Thou also mad'st the night, + Maker omnipotent, and thou the day." + + Milton, "Paradise Lost," Book iv. + + 241 --_So some tall rock._ + + "But like a rock unmov'd, a rock that braves + The raging tempest, and the rising waves-- + Propp'd on himself he stands: his solid sides + Wash off the sea-weeds, and the sounding tides." + + Dryden's Virgil, vii. 809. + + 242 Protesilaus was the first Greek who fell, slain by Hector, as he + leaped from the vessel to the Trojan shore. He was buried on the + Chersonese, near the city of Plagusa. Hygin Fab. ciii. Tzetz. on + Lycophr. 245, 528. There is a most elegant tribute to his memory in + the Preface to the Heroica of Philostratus. + + 243 --_His best beloved._ The following elegant remarks of Thirlwall + (Greece, vol. i, p. 176 seq.) well illustrate the character of the + friendship subsisting between these two heroes-- + + "One of the noblest and most amiable sides of the Greek character, + is the readiness with which it lent itself to construct intimate and + durable friendships, and this is a feature no less prominent in the + earliest than in later times. It was indeed connected with the + comparatively low estimation in which female society was held; but + the devotedness and constancy with which these attachments were + maintained, was not the less admirable and engaging. The heroic + companions whom we find celebrated partly by Homer and partly in + traditions which, if not of equal antiquity, were grounded on the + same feeling, seem to have but one heart and soul, with scarcely a + wish or object apart, and only to live as they are always ready to + die for one another. It is true that the relation between them is + not always one of perfect equality; but this is a circumstance + which, while it often adds a peculiar charm to the poetical + description, detracts little from the dignity of the idea which it + presents. Such were the friendships of Hercules and Iolaus, of + Theseus and Pirithous, of Orestes and Pylades; and though These may + owe the greater part of their fame to the later epic or even + dramatic poetry, the moral groundwork undoubtedly subsisted in the + period to which the traditions are referred. The argument of the + Iliad mainly turns on the affection of Achilles for Patroclus, whose + love for the greater hero is only tempered by reverence for his + higher birth and his unequalled prowess. But the mutual regard which + united Idomeneus and Meriones, Diomedes and Sthenelus, though, as + the persons themselves are less important, it is kept more in the + back-ground, is manifestly viewed by the poet in the same light. The + idea of a Greek hero seems not to have been thought complete, + without such a brother in arms by his side."--Thirlwall, Greece, vol. + i. p. 176, seq. + + 244 "As hungry wolves with raging appetite, + Scour through the fields, ne'er fear the stormy night-- + Their whelps at home expect the promised food, + And long to temper their dry chaps in blood-- + So rush'd we forth at once." + + --Dryden's Virgil, ii. 479. + + 245 --_The destinies ordain._--"In the mythology, also, of the Iliad, + purely Pagan as it is, we discover one important truth unconsciously + involved, which was almost entirely lost from view amidst the nearly + equal scepticism and credulity of subsequent ages. Zeus or Jupiter + is popularly to be taken as omnipotent. No distinct empire is + assigned to fate or fortune; the will of the father of gods and men + is absolute and uncontrollable. This seems to be the true character + of the Homeric deity, and it is very necessary that the student of + Greek literature should bear it constantly in mind. A strong + instance in the Iliad itself to illustrate this position, is the + passage where Jupiter laments to Juno the approaching death of + Sarpedon. 'Alas me!' says he 'since it is fated (moira) that + Sarpedon, dearest to me of men, should be slain by Patroclus, the + son of Menoetius! Indeed, my heart is divided within me while I + ruminate it in my mind, whether having snatched him up from out of + the lamentable battle, I should not at once place him alive in the + fertile land of his own Lycia, or whether I should now destroy him + by the hands of the son of Menoetius!' To which Juno answers--'Dost + thou mean to rescue from death a mortal man, long since destined by + fate (palai pepromenon)? You may do it--but we, the rest of the gods, + do not sanction it.' Here it is clear from both speakers, that + although Sarpedon is said to be fated to die, Jupiter might still, + if he pleased, save him, and place him entirely out of the reach of + any such event, and further, in the alternative, that Jupiter + himself would destroy him by the hands of another."--Coleridge, p. + 156. seq. + + 246 --_Thrice at the battlements._ "The art military of the Homeric age + is upon a level with the state of navigation just described, + personal prowess decided every thing; the night attack and the + ambuscade, although much esteemed, were never upon a large scale. + The chiefs fight in advance, and enact almost as much as the knights + of romance. The siege of Troy was as little like a modern siege as a + captain in the guards is like Achilles. There is no mention of a + ditch or any other line or work round the town, and the wall itself + was accessible without a ladder. It was probably a vast mound of + earth with a declivity outwards. Patroclus thrice mounts it in + armour. The Trojans are in no respects blockaded, and receive + assistance from their allies to the very end."--Coleridge, p. 212. + + 247 --_Ciconians._--A people of Thrace, near the Hebrus. + + 248 --_They wept._ + + "Fast by the manger stands the inactive steed, + And, sunk in sorrow, hangs his languid head; + He stands, and careless of his golden grain, + Weeps his associates and his master slain." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, v. 18-24. + + "Nothing is heard upon the mountains now, + But pensive herds that for their master low, + Straggling and comfortless about they rove, + Unmindful of their pasture and their love." + + Moschus, id. 3, parodied, _ibid._ + + "To close the pomp, AEthon, the steed of state, + Is led, the funeral of his lord to wait. + Stripp'd of his trappings, with a sullen pace + He walks, and the big tears run rolling down his face." + + Dryden's Virgil, bk. ii + + 249 --_Some brawny bull._ + + "Like to a bull, that with impetuous spring + Darts, at the moment when the fatal blow + Hath struck him, but unable to proceed + Plunges on either side." + + --Carey's Dante: Hell, c. xii. + + 250 This is connected with the earlier part of last book, the regular + narrative being interrupted by the message of Antilochus and the + lamentations of Achilles. + + 251 --_Far in the deep._ So Oceanus hears the lamentations of Prometheus, + in the play of AEschylus, and comes from the depths of the sea to + comfort him. + + 252 Opuntia, a city of Locris. + + 253 Quintus Calaber, lib. v., has attempted to rival Homer in his + description of the shield of the same hero. A few extracts from Mr. + Dyce's version (Select Translations, p. 104, seq.) may here be + introduced. + + "In the wide circle of the shield were seen + Refulgent images of various forms, + The work of Vulcan; who had there described + The heaven, the ether, and the earth and sea, + The winds, the clouds, the moon, the sun, apart + In different stations; and you there might view + The stars that gem the still-revolving heaven, + And, under them, the vast expanse of air, + In which, with outstretch'd wings, the long-beak'd bird + Winnow'd the gale, as if instinct with life. + Around the shield the waves of ocean flow'd, + The realms of Tethys, which unnumber'd streams, + In azure mazes rolling o'er the earth, + Seem'd to augment." + + 254 --_On seats of stone._ "Several of the old northern Sagas represent + the old men assembled for the purpose of judging as sitting on great + stones, in a circle called the Urtheilsring or gerichtsring"-- Grote, + ii. p. 100, note. On the independence of the judicial office in The + heroic times, see Thirlwall's Greece, vol. i. p. 166. + + 255 --_Another part,_ &c. + + "And here + Were horrid wars depicted; grimly pale + Were heroes lying with their slaughter'd steeds + Upon the ground incarnadin'd with blood. + Stern stalked Bellona, smear'd with reeking gore, + Through charging ranks; beside her Rout was seen, + And Terror, Discord to the fatal strife + Inciting men, and Furies breathing flames: + Nor absent were the Fates, and the tall shape + Of ghastly Death, round whom did Battles throng, + Their limbs distilling plenteous blood and sweat; + And Gorgons, whose long locks were twisting snakes. + That shot their forky tongues incessant forth. + Such were the horrors of dire war." + + --Dyce's Calaber. + + 256 --_A field deep furrowed._ + + "Here was a corn field; reapers in a row, + Each with a sharp-tooth'd sickle in his hand, + Work'd busily, and, as the harvest fell, + Others were ready still to bind the sheaves: + Yoked to a wain that bore the corn away + The steers were moving; sturdy bullocks here + The plough were drawing, and the furrow'd glebe + Was black behind them, while with goading wand + The active youths impell'd them. Here a feast + Was graved: to the shrill pipe and ringing lyre + A band of blooming virgins led the dance. + As if endued with life." + + --Dyce's Calaber. + + 257 Coleridge (Greek Classic Poets, p. 182, seq.) has diligently + compared this with the description of the shield of Hercules by + Hesiod. He remarks that, "with two or three exceptions, the imagery + differs in little more than the names and arrangements; and the + difference of arrangement in the Shield of Hercules is altogether + for the worse. The natural consecution of the Homeric images needs + no exposition: it constitutes in itself one of the beauties of the + work. The Hesiodic images are huddled together without connection or + congruity: Mars and Pallas are awkwardly introduced among the + Centaurs and Lapithae;-- but the gap is wide indeed between them and + Apollo with the Muses, waking the echoes of Olympus to celestial + harmonies; whence however, we are hurried back to Perseus, the + Gorgons, and other images of war, over an arm of the sea, in which + the sporting dolphins, the fugitive fishes, and the fisherman on the + shore with his casting net, are minutely represented. As to the + Hesiodic images themselves, the leading remark is, that they catch + at beauty by ornament, and at sublimity by exaggeration; and upon + the untenable supposition of the genuineness of this poem, there is + this curious peculiarity, that, in the description of scenes of + rustic peace, the superiority of Homer is decisive--while in those of + war and tumult it may be thought, perhaps, that the Hesiodic poet + has more than once the advantage." + + 258 "This legend is one of the most pregnant and characteristic in the + Grecian Mythology; it explains, according to the religious ideas + familiar to the old epic poets, both the distinguishing attributes + and the endless toil and endurances of Heracles, the most renowned + subjugator of all the semi-divine personages worshipped by the + Hellenes,--a being of irresistible force, and especially beloved by + Zeus, yet condemned constantly to labour for others and to obey the + commands of a worthless and cowardly persecutor. His recompense is + reserved to the close of his career, when his afflicting trials are + brought to a close: he is then admitted to the godhead, and receives + in marriage Hebe."--Grote, vol. i. p. 128. + + 259 --_Ambrosia._ + + "The blue-eyed maid, + In ev'ry breast new vigour to infuse. + Brings nectar temper'd with ambrosial dews." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, vi. 249. + + 260 "Hell is naked before him, and destruction hath no covering. He + stretcheth out the north over the empty place, and hangeth the earth + upon nothing. He bindeth up the waters in his thick clouds; and the + cloud is not rent under them." Job xxvi. 6-8. + + 261 "Swift from his throne the infernal monarch ran, + All pale and trembling, lest the race of man, + Slain by Jove's wrath, and led by Hermes' rod, + Should fill (a countless throng!) his dark abode." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, vi. 769, sqq. + + 262 These words seem to imply the old belief, that the Fates might be + delayed, but never wholly set aside. + + 263 It was anciently believed that it was dangerous, if not fatal, to + behold a deity. See Exod. xxxiii. 20; Judg. xiii. 22. + + 264 "Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow'rs arose, + In humble vales they built their soft abodes." + + Dryden's Virgil, iii. 150. + + 265 --_Along the level seas._ Compare Virgil's description of Camilla, + who + + "Outstripp'd the winds in speed upon the plain, + Flew o'er the field, nor hurt the bearded grain: + She swept the seas, and, as she skimm'd along, + Her flying feet unbathed on billows hung." + + Dryden, vii. 1100. + + 266 --_The future father._ "AEneas and Antenor stand distinguished from + the other Trojans by a dissatisfaction with Priam, and a sympathy + with the Greeks, which is by Sophocles and others construed as + treacherous collusion,--a suspicion indirectly glanced at, though + emphatically repelled, in the AEneas of Virgil."--Grote, i. p. 427. + + 267 Neptune thus recounts his services to AEneas: + + "When your AEneas fought, but fought with odds + Of force unequal, and unequal gods: + I spread a cloud before the victor's sight, + Sustain'd the vanquish'd, and secured his flight-- + Even then secured him, when I sought with joy + The vow'd destruction of ungrateful Troy." + + Dryden's Virgil, v. 1058. + + 268 --_On Polydore._ Euripides, Virgil, and others, relate that Polydore + was sent into Thrace, to the house of Polymestor, for protection, + being the youngest of Priam's sons, and that he was treacherously + murdered by his host for the sake of the treasure sent with him. + + 269 "Perhaps the boldest excursion of Homer into this region of poetical + fancy is the collision into which, in the twenty-first of the Iliad, + he has brought the river god Scamander, first with Achilles, and + afterwards with Vulcan, when summoned by Juno to the hero's aid. The + overwhelming fury of the stream finds the natural interpretation in + the character of the mountain torrents of Greece and Asia Minor. + Their wide, shingly beds are in summer comparatively dry, so as to + be easily forded by the foot passenger. But a thunder-shower in the + mountains, unobserved perhaps by the traveller on the plain, may + suddenly immerse him in the flood of a mighty river. The rescue of + Achilles by the fiery arms of Vulcan scarcely admits of the same + ready explanation from physical causes. Yet the subsiding of the + flood at the critical moment when the hero's destruction appeared + imminent, might, by a slight extension of the figurative parallel, + be ascribed to a god symbolic of the influences opposed to all + atmospheric moisture."--Mure, vol. i. p. 480, sq. + + 270 Wood has observed, that "the circumstance of a falling tree, which + is described as reaching from one of its banks to the other, affords + a very just idea of the breadth of the Scamander." + + 271 --_Ignominious._ Drowning, as compared with a death in the field of + battle, was considered utterly disgraceful. + + 272 --_Beneath a caldron._ + + "So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries, + The bubbling waters from the bottom rise. + Above the brims they force their fiery way; + Black vapours climb aloft, and cloud the day." + + Dryden's Virgil, vii. 644. + + 273 "This tale of the temporary servitude of particular gods, by order + of Jove, as a punishment for misbehaviour, recurs not unfrequently + among the incidents of the Mythical world."--Grote, vol. i. p. 156. + + 274 --_Not half so dreadful._ + + "On the other side, + Incensed with indignation, Satan stood + Unterrified, and like a comet burn'd, + That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge + In the arctic sky, and from his horrid hair + Shakes pestilence and war." + + --Paradise Lost," xi. 708. + + 275 "And thus his own undaunted mind explores."--"Paradise Lost," vi. + 113. + + 276 The example of Nausicaa, in the Odyssey, proves that the duties of + the laundry were not thought derogatory, even from the dignity of a + princess, in the heroic times. + + 277 --_Hesper shines with keener light._ + + "Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, + If better thou belong not to the dawn." + + "Paradise Lost," v. 166. + + 278 Such was his fate. After chasing the Trojans into the town, he was + slain by an arrow from the quiver of Paris, directed under the + unerring auspices of Apollo. The greatest efforts were made by the + Trojans to possess themselves of the body, which was however rescued + and borne off to the Grecian camp by the valour of Ajax and Ulysses. + Thetis stole away the body, just as the Greeks were about to burn it + with funeral honours, and conveyed it away to a renewed life of + immortality in the isle of Leuke in the Euxine. + + 279 --_Astyanax,_ i.e. the _city-king_ or guardian. It is amusing that + Plato, who often finds fault with Homer without reason, should have + copied this twaddling etymology into his Cratylus. + + 280 This book has been closely imitated by Virgil in his fifth book, but + it is almost useless to attempt a selection of passages for + comparison. + + 281 --_Thrice in order led._ This was a frequent rite at funerals. The + Romans had the same custom, which they called _decursio._ Plutarch + states that Alexander, in after times, renewed these same honours to + the memory of Achilles himself. + + 282 --_And swore._ Literally, and called Orcus, the god of oaths, to + witness. See Buttmann, Lexilog, p. 436. + + 283 "O, long expected by thy friends! from whence + Art thou so late return'd for our defence? + Do we behold thee, wearied as we are + With length of labours, and with, toils of war? + After so many funerals of thy own, + Art thou restored to thy declining town? + But say, what wounds are these? what new disgrace + Deforms the manly features of thy face?" + + Dryden, xi. 369. + + 284 --_Like a thin smoke._ Virgil, Georg. iv. 72. + + "In vain I reach my feeble hands to join + In sweet embraces--ah! no longer thine! + She said, and from his eyes the fleeting fair + Retired, like subtle smoke dissolved in air." + + Dryden. + + 285 So Milton:-- + + "So eagerly the fiend + O'er bog, o'er steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, + With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way, + And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies." + + "Paradise Lost," ii. 948. + + 286 "An ancient forest, for the work design'd + (The shady covert of the savage kind). + The Trojans found: the sounding axe is placed: + Firs, pines, and pitch-trees, and the tow'ring pride + Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke, + And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak. + High trunks of trees, fell'd from the steepy crown + Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down." + + Dryden's Virgil, vi. 261. + + 287 --_He vowed._ This was a very ancient custom. + + 288 The height of the tomb or pile was a great proof of the dignity of + the deceased, and the honour in which he was held. + + 289 On the prevalence of this cruel custom amongst the northern nations, + see Mallet, p. 213. + + 290 --_And calls the spirit._ Such was the custom anciently, even at the + Roman funerals. + + "Hail, O ye holy manes! hail again, + Paternal ashes, now revived in vain." + + Dryden's Virgil, v. 106. + + 291 Virgil, by making the boaster vanquished, has drawn a better moral + from this episode than Homer. The following lines deserve + comparison:-- + + "The haughty Dares in the lists appears: + Walking he strides, his head erected bears: + His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield, + And loud applauses echo through the field. + * * * * + Such Dares was, and such he strode along, + And drew the wonder of the gazing throng + His brawny breast and ample chest he shows; + His lifted arms around his head he throws, + And deals in whistling air his empty blows. + His match is sought, but, through the trembling band, + No one dares answer to the proud demand. + Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes, + Already he devours the promised prize. + * * * * + If none my matchless valour dares oppose, + How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes?" + + Dryden's Virgil, v. 486, seq. + + 292 "The gauntlet-fight thus ended, from the shore + His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore: + His mouth and nostrils pour'd a purple flood, + And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood." + + Dryden's Virgil, v. 623. + + 293 "Troilus is only once named in the Iliad; he was mentioned also in + the Cypriad but his youth, beauty, and untimely end made him an + object of great interest with the subsequent poets."--Grote, i, p. + 399. + + 294 Milton has rivalled this passage describing the descent of Gabriel, + "Paradise Lost," bk. v. 266, seq. + + "Down thither prone in flight + He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky + Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, + Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan + Winnows the buxom air. * * * * + * * * * + At once on th' eastern cliff of Paradise + He lights, and to his proper shape returns + A seraph wing'd. * * * * + Like Maia's son he stood, + And shook his plumes, that heavenly fragrance fill'd + The circuit wide." + + Virgil, AEn. iv. 350:-- + + "Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds + His flying feet, and mounts the western winds: + And whether o'er the seas or earth he flies, + With rapid force they bear him down the skies + But first he grasps within his awful hand + The mark of sovereign power, his magic wand; + With this he draws the ghost from hollow graves; + With this he drives them from the Stygian waves: + * * * * + Thus arm'd, the god begins his airy race, + And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space." + + Dryden. + + 295 In reference to the whole scene that follows, the remarks of + Coleridge are well worth reading:-- + + "By a close study of life, and by a true and natural mode of + expressing everything, Homer was enabled to venture upon the most + peculiar and difficult situations, and to extricate himself from + them with the completest success. The whole scene between Achilles + and Priam, when the latter comes to the Greek camp for the purpose + of redeeming the body of Hector, is at once the most profoundly + skilful, and yet the simplest and most affecting passage in the + Iliad. Quinctilian has taken notice of the following speech of + Priam, the rhetorical artifice of which is so transcendent, that if + genius did not often, especially in oratory, unconsciously fulfil + the most subtle precepts of criticism, we might be induced, on this + account alone, to consider the last book of the Iliad as what is + called spurious, in other words, of later date than the rest of the + poem. Observe the exquisite taste of Priam in occupying the mind of + Achilles, from the outset, with the image of his father; in + gradually introducing the parallel of his own situation; and, + lastly, mentioning Hector's name when he perceives that the hero is + softened, and then only in such a manner as to flatter the pride of + the conqueror. The ego d'eleeinoteros per, and the apusato aecha + geronta, are not exactly like the tone of the earlier parts of the + Iliad. They are almost too fine and pathetic. The whole passage + defies translation, for there is that about the Greek which has no + name, but which is of so fine and ethereal a subtlety that it can + only be felt in the original, and is lost in an attempt to transfuse + it into another language."--Coleridge, p. 195. + + 296 "Achilles' ferocious treatment of the corpse of Hector cannot but + offend as referred to the modern standard of humanity. The heroic + age, however, must be judged by its own moral laws. Retributive + vengeance on the dead, as well as the living, was a duty inculcated + by the religion of those barbarous times which not only taught that + evil inflicted on the author of evil was a solace to the injured + man; but made the welfare of the soul after death dependent on the + fate of the body from which it had separated. Hence a denial of the + rites essential to the soul's admission into the more favoured + regions of the lower world was a cruel punishment to the wanderer on + the dreary shores of the infernal river. The complaint of the ghost + of Patroclus to Achilles, of but a brief postponement of his own + obsequies, shows how efficacious their refusal to the remains of his + destroyer must have been in satiating the thirst of revenge, which, + even after death, was supposed to torment the dwellers in Hades. + Hence before yielding up the body of Hector to Priam, Achilles asks + pardon of Patroclus for even this partial cession of his just rights + of retribution."--Mure, vol. i. 289. + + 297 Such was the fate of Astyanax, when Troy was taken. + + "Here, from the tow'r by stern Ulysses thrown, + Andromache bewail'd her infant son." + + Merrick's Tryphiodorus, v. 675. + + 298 The following observations of Coleridge furnish a most gallant and + interesting view of Helen's character-- + + "Few things are more interesting than to observe how the same hand + that has given us the fury and inconsistency of Achilles, gives us + also the consummate elegance and tenderness of Helen. She is through + the Iliad a genuine lady, graceful in motion and speech, noble in + her associations, full of remorse for a fault for which higher + powers seem responsible, yet grateful and affectionate towards those + with whom that fault had committed her. I have always thought the + following speech in which Helen laments Hector, and hints at her own + invidious and unprotected situation in Troy, as almost the sweetest + passage in the poem. It is another striking instance of that + refinement of feeling and softness of tone which so generally + distinguish the last book of the Iliad from the rest."--Classic + Poets, p. 198, seq. + + 299 "And here we part with Achilles at the moment best calculated to + exalt and purify our impression of his character. We had accompanied + him through the effervescence, undulations, and final subsidence of + his stormy passions. We now leave him in repose and under the full + influence of the more amiable affections, while our admiration of + his great qualities is chastened by the reflection that, within a + few short days the mighty being in whom they were united was himself + to be suddenly cut off in the full vigour of their exercise. + + The frequent and touching allusions, interspersed throughout the + Iliad, to the speedy termination of its hero's course, and the moral + on the vanity of human life which they indicate, are among the + finest evidences of the spirit of ethic unity by which the whole + framework of the poem is united."--Mure, vol. i. p 201. + + 300 Cowper says,--"I cannot take my leave of this noble poem without + expressing how much I am struck with the plain conclusion of it. It + is like the exit of a great man out of company, whom he has + entertained magnificently; neither pompous nor familiar; not + contemptuous, yet without much ceremony." Coleridge, p. 227, + considers the termination of "Paradise Lost" somewhat similar. + + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ILIAD OF HOMER*** + + + +CREDITS + + +July 2004 + + Posted to Project Gutenberg + Anne Soulard, + Juliet Sutherland, + Charles Franks, and + The Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +September 2006 + + Converted to PGTEI v.04 + Joshua Hutchinson + + + +A WORD FROM PROJECT GUTENBERG + + +This file should be named 6130-0.txt or 6130-0.zip. + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + + + http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/1/3/6130/ + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one -- the old editions will be +renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one +owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and +you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission +and without paying copyright royalties. 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We HEAR radios -- one piece of music after + another... + + We're -- + +1 EXT. 101 FREEWAY - DAY + + Cars are at a standstill. It's a horrific traffic jam. + + Morning rush hour. Sun beating down, asphalt shimmering in the + heat. The blown-out downtown L.A. skyline hovers in the + distance. + + We DRIFT past more CARS. Hear one snippet of audio after + another... + + One driver taps his steering wheel to PROG ROCK. Another + sings to OPERA. A third raps along to a HIP-HOP track. We + move from a RADIO INTERVIEW to a FRENCH BALLAD to TECHNO, + until finally we begin to hear... + + ...a new, original piece of music... [ANOTHER DAY OF SUN] + + We settle on the CAR from which this new tune is playing. + The driver is a YOUNG WOMAN. She hums along to the riff on + her radio -- then starts SINGING. + + Then -- she EXITS her car. Then -- she starts MOVING down the + lane. + + One by one, more DRIVERS join her -- SINGING and DANCING + along. Without a single cut, we've found ourselves in a FULL- + FLEDGED MUSICAL NUMBER... + + Drivers leap on car-tops, dance Jerome Robbins-style, making + use of the road and the hot gleam of the automobiles. Arms + swaying, feet banging, dancers darting, as the MUSIC blasts. + We WEAVE and SWIRL and DART between and around the cars, + taking the magic in... + + Finally -- all the drivers swing back into their vehicles -- + and the song comes to a dramatic stop. + + Flash title card: + + WINTER + +A1 We settle on a new car. A 1983 Dodge Riviera. In it is + SEBASTIAN, 32, L.A. native. He's listening to the radio. He's + playing a track on his music system -- a tape of Thelonious + Monk's "Japanese Folk Song". But he keeps stopping it, over + and over and over -- always rewinding to the same exact spot. + Revision 2. + + +B1 OMIT + +C1 We DRIFT from his car to one further up ahead. A light-green + 2005 Prius. Inside is MIA, 27, Nevada-raised. Six years of + "no" in L.A. have toughened her, but she's still a dreamer. + She seems to be on the phone, speaking into her car's system. + Fast, fiery, full of energy -- + + MIA + ...and I swear to God, she was wrecked. + It was pure insanity. + + Mia stops. Thinks. Mutters to herself: "Insanity"... Then + leans down and grabs a piece of paper from the passenger + seat. It's a SCRIPT. + + MIA (CONT'D) + (reading now) + Pure lunacy. Oh God, I know... + + Just then -- the traffic around Mia starts to let up. She's + too focused on her lines to notice. + + Then -- a long, sustained honk behind her: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT. + + Mia comes to. Jerked back to reality. The honking car behind + her swerves into the next lane. It's Sebastian. Mia gives him + the finger. We then FOLLOW her as she drives... + +2 OMIT + +3 OMIT + +4 INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY + + Mia works, photos of Hollywood icons on the wall behind her, as -- + + CUSTOMER #1 + This doesn't taste like almond milk. + + MIA + Don't worry, it is. I know sometimes it -- + + CUSTOMER #1 + Can I see the carton? + + Mia hands it over. The Customer looks. + + CUSTOMER #1 (CONT'D) + I'll have a black coffee. + + Mia gets the coffee. Quickly sneaks a look at a script hidden + underneath her counter. The same one we saw in her car... + Revision 3. + + + She hands the coffee to the Customer. We follow the Customer + out through the door -- as a WOMAN walks into the shop. We + don't see the Woman's face, but we see all the eyes in the + shop turn immediately to her. We see one CUSTOMER whisper to + another, discreetly pointing as the WOMAN passes by... + + WOMAN + Cappuccino, please. + + Mia nods. Gets it made. The Manager takes it from her. + + MANAGER + On us. + + WOMAN + No, I insist. + + She pays. Then smiles at Mia and drops a bill in the tip jar. + Mia watches as the Woman walks off, is joined by a STUDIO + EMPLOYEE on a golf cart outside -- we realize this coffee shop + is on a STUDIO LOT -- and is driven away... + + Then -- Mia's phone rings. It reads: "MOM". Mia presses + "IGNORE" and the time pops up on the phone's screen: 4:07. + + MIA + Shit. + + Removing her apron and hurrying out, turning back as -- + + MANAGER + Where do you think you're going? + + MIA + It's -- five past... + + MANAGER + You'd better be here early tomorrow. + + MIA + Ok. + + -- then realizes she doesn't have her script, runs back to + grab it, hurries on and then -- CRASHES into a table. Coffee + and food spill all over her shirt, and all at once we're -- + +5 INT. AUDITION ROOM - DAY + + Mia's in a thick winter coat, covering her stained shirt. On + her cell, loudly laughing while her adrenaline surges -- + + MIA (CONT'D) + And I swear to God, she was wrecked. It + was pure lunacy. Oh God, I know... + Revision 4. + + + Her nerves are practically visible. As she talks, we PULL + BACK -- to see that she's auditioning for a CASTING DIRECTOR. + + MIA (CONT'D) + No, no, Turner's fine. So you -- are you + waiting `til Denver to tell her...? + (as her smile contracts) + Oh. I see... + (silence; she clenches her jaw...) + No, you're right. I understand. + (...and a tear falls from her eye) + Ok... I just... Oh... + + An ASSISTANT appears through the glass on the door behind + Mia, waving to the Casting Director: Yoohoo. Can I come in? + + MIA (CONT'D) + (crying now) + No, I'm happy for you... I -- I just -- + + CASTING DIRECTOR + One second. + + Mia stops. The Casting Director waves the Assistant in. The + Assistant scurries in, shows her boss a post-it. Mia stands + there, trying to hold onto the tears, hold onto the emotion, as + the Casting Director reads the post-it and thinks. + + CASTING DIRECTOR (CONT'D) + ...I'll call her back. Tell her I'm almost + done in here. + + The Assistant nods. Walks out. Mia waits, trying to maintain... + + CASTING DIRECTOR (CONT'D) + You know what? I think we're good. Thanks + for coming in. + + Mia looks at her. A beat. + +6 INT. LOBBY - DAY + + Mia exits. Nerves still on edge. Passes one beautiful redhead + after the next -- all getting ready to cry. + + Enters the elevator with two other WOMEN -- tall, statuesque. + Also redheads. + +7 INT. MIA'S APARTMENT - EARLY EVENING + + Mia enters. Exhausted. Heads to her ROOM. + Revision 5. + + + Old movie posters hang on the walls, including a big Ingrid + Bergman one over the bed. There's also a shelf filled with + acting books -- Uta Hagen, Stella Adler. Various other + trinkets: an old globe, an old blue-and-red suitcase. Mia + takes off her shoe. A blister on her sole. + +8 WE CUT TO: Mia in the BATHROOM. Just showered, wrapped in a + towel. She hums to herself. + + The mirror is fogged up. She turns off the vent. The mist on + the glass thickens. She dabs some of it away. Dims the + lights. Looks... + + With the fog in place, her reflection looks like one of those + soft-focus old Hollywood close-ups. She hums as she brushes + her hair... + + Then -- the door SWINGS open -- and the spell is broken. + + TRACY + Holy Mother of God. + + Mia snaps out of it. Turns. Fog is enveloping TRACY, 27. + + TRACY (CONT'D) + Ever heard of a vent? + + MIA + I wanted to give you an entrance. + + ALEXIS + (appearing in the hall, 26, + eating Cheetos) + Mia! How'd it go? + + MIA + Eh... + + ALEXIS + Same here. Was Jen there? Or Rachel? + + MIA + I don't know who Jen and Rachel are. + + ALEXIS + They're the worst. + + MIA + I don't know if they were there. + + As Mia slips away -- + + ALEXIS + I bet they were. + Revision 6. + + + CAITLIN + (appearing, 27) + Why is there a convention in the bathroom? + + TRACY + Two minutes, people! Mia you're coming, + right? + + WE PAN TO find Mia poking her head out of her bedroom -- + + MIA + Can't. Working. + + TRACY (O.S.) + What? + (we PAN BACK to Tracy) + Did she say "working"? + +A8 We follow Mia INSIDE her room. She closes the door. Takes a + moment. You can tell in her eyes -- work or not, a night on + the town is the last thing she wants to do now. + +B8 WE CUT to the HALLWAY, to find Tracy POUNDING on Mia's door. + + MIA + (opening up) + Yes? + + TRACY + Look, I know things didn't go well today. + There are four things in my inbox that + you're perfect for and I will submit you. + But right now -- you're coming. + +C8 With that -- she barges in and beelines to Mia's closet -- + + TRACY (CONT'D) + It'll be fun. + + MIA + It'll be a bunch of social climbers packed + into one of those glass houses. + + TRACY + Exactly. Fun. + + She pulls out a blue dress. As Alexis hurries in -- + + TRACY (CONT'D) MIA + This looks familiar. I was going to give it + back! + + Alexis moves from Mia's perfume to the dress, lighting up as + she grabs it -- + Revision 7. + + + ALEXIS + Come on, Mia. When else do you get to + see every Hollywood cliché crammed + into a single home? + + TRACY + (faux-offended) + Lex! I'm disappointed in you. There's + nothing to make fun of. This party will + be humanity at its finest. + + Mia rolls her eyes -- and, with that -- + + Tracy BREAKS INTO SONG. [SOMEONE IN THE CROWD] + + She play-acts the clichés this party will represent. Alexis + and Caitlin join in, giddy and playful. Mia can't help but + laugh. The roommates sing and dance, hoping to persuade Mia + to join the night's revelry... + + Mia remains reluctant. Stays behind in her room as her + roommates head out the door. But she's starting to wonder: A + night at home, feeling sorry for herself -- or a night out + with her friends...? + +9 EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING / STREET - NIGHT + + We're outside now, and BACK with Tracy, Alexis and Caitlin, + marching across the courtyard and toward the street. They + sing, dance, half-assuming Mia is a no-go -- + + -- until Mia APPEARS, blue-dress-clad. Her roommates look at + her in surprise -- then delight. The energy swells and the + four characters dance their way together down the street. + They dive into a single CAR, and WE DISSOLVE TO... + +10 OMIT. + +A10 OMIT. + +11 EXT. CITY - NIGHT + + An old-fashioned MONTAGE of a night on the town: neon signs + and overflowing champagne glasses. Soon enough, we're at... + +12 EXT. MODERN HILLTOP HOUSE - NIGHT + + Valet cars lined up. We FOLLOW Alexis, Tracy, Caitlin and Mia + to the door... + +13 INT./EXT. HILLTOP HOUSE - NIGHT + + ...and into a big-glass hilltop pad. We FOLLOW Mia as she + takes in her surroundings. + Revision 8. + + + A D.J. turning tables. A FAT OLD PRODUCER dancing with a + TWENTY-SOMETHING. A trio of AGENTS glad-handing each other in + rhythm by the bar. Yep -- every cliché is here... + + Mia tries talking to a pair of WOMEN -- who promptly ditch + her. + + Seeing she's now alone, a YOUNG MAN swoops in to hit on her. + + She makes a hasty exit toward the bar -- but the line's + obscenely long. + + She nears the BATHROOM door -- but a COUPLE stands in her way, + making out. + + She slips in behind them... + +A13 Inside the BATHROOM, Mia takes a moment. The joy of seconds + ago is gone from her eyes now. She gazes into the mirror -- + + -- and SINGS by herself. + + This verse, sung in private, belongs to a new style: less + brash, and far more vulnerable... + + Once finished, Mia takes a breath, steels herself to once + again face the world, opens the door -- and rejoins the + crowd... + +B13 We MOVE with her slowly now -- surrounded by the party, but + everything set at a snail's pace, the crazed carousers moving + in SLOW MOTION. It's the sadness underneath the revelry, the + pain underneath the clichés... + + Gradually we RAMP UP. Follow Mia OUTSIDE, where we see the + splash of blue-green that is the POOL -- and a flurry of FAKE + SNOW falling from above... + + As we reach FULL-SPEED, a PARTY-GOER races to the edge, jumps -- + + -- and we PLUNGE WITH HIM INTO THE POOL. + + This is the climax of the number. Everyone joins in, + circling the pool -- a swath of color against the black sky. + Everyone dances, everyone sings -- and the song concludes + with a blast of fireworks. + +C13 OMIT + +A14 EXT. STREET - NIGHT + + Close on a sign: "NO PARKING ANYTIME: TOW-AWAY ZONE". + Revision 9. + + + MIA (O.S.) + No... + + We see Mia -- all alone, staring at the sign. No car in + sight. She reaches into her purse, pulls out her cell phone + to call Tracy. It's dead. + + MIA (CONT'D) + No... + +15 OMIT + +16 OMIT + +17 OMIT + +A17 OMIT + +B17 OMIT + +18 OMIT + +19 EXT. HILL / LOS ANGELES STREETS - NIGHT + + Mia trudges down the steep hill in her unwieldy heels. She's an + hour-and-a-half walk from her place. She crosses roads and lots, + navigates stretches where the sidewalk stops and gives way to + shrubbery. + +A19 And then -- she hears something... Music. A piano, in the + distance. And a MELODY -- one we will come to know very well... + + Without being sure why, she FOLLOWS THE SOUND. Passes several + doors. Then stops. Has found where it's coming from... + + She reaches out -- and slowly opens a door... + + AND WE CUT RIGHT BACK TO: + +20 EXT. 101 FREEWAY - EARLIER THAT MORNING + + AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT. The same 101 traffic jam we began + with. This time we're on Sebastian -- the honker. + + He passes Mia's car. She gives him the finger. He drives on, + shaking his head... + +21 OMIT + +22 EXT. RAYO'S - MOMENTS LATER + + Sebastian sips a coffee as he gazes across the street -- at + a 30's Deco building. A sign above the door: "VAN BEEK". A + newer sub-heading below: "TAPAS & TUNES". + Revision 10. + + + + The door opens. Two EMPLOYEES step out, setting up a valet + stand. Sebastian watches them -- and shakes his head. The + employees notice him. Recognize him. What is it with that + guy...? + +23A OMIT + +23 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - DAY + + Sebastian enters his apartment -- cramped, dingy, bare + walls, no furniture or decoration, boxes filled with dusty + black-and-white photographs and unused instruments on the + floor, a black Steinway upright piano in the center of the + living room -- and sees a WOMAN rummaging around. + + SEBASTIAN + You gotta stop breaking into my home. + + She looks up. She's 37 quickly going on 50, and dressed like + she doesn't care. This is LAURA, Sebastian's older sister. + + LAURA + You think Mom or Dad would call this a + home? + + Seeing that she's seated on a stained, decrepit stool -- + + SEBASTIAN + Please don't sit on that. + + LAURA + Are you serious? + + SEBASTIAN + Yes. Hoagy Carmichael sat on that stool. + The Baked Potato was gonna throw it away. + + LAURA + I wonder why. + (then, rising,) + I brought you this. It's a throw rug. + + SEBASTIAN + Don't need it. + + LAURA + Yeah? What if I told you Miles Davis + pissed on it? + + SEBASTIAN + That's almost insulting... + (then,) + Did he? + Revision 11. + + +She shakes her head: Unbelievable. Tosses the rug to the side. + + LAURA + When are you going to unpack these boxes? + + SEBASTIAN + When I unpack them in my club. + + LAURA + Oh my God. It's like a girl broke up with + you and you're stalking her. + (then, looks at him --) + You're not still going by there, are you? + + SEBASTIAN + No. + +A beat. Then -- + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + They've turned it into a tapas-samba + place. You believe that? + + LAURA + Seb -- + + SEBASTIAN + Who wants to tapas while they samba? + + LAURA + I have someone I want you to meet. + + SEBASTIAN + I don't want to meet anyone. + + LAURA + You'll like her. + + SEBASTIAN + Uh-huh. Does she like jazz? + + LAURA + Probably not. + + SEBASTIAN + Then what are we gonna talk about? + + LAURA + You'll talk about the weather. + + SEBASTIAN + Ok. Then I have someone I'd like you to + meet. He's got a face tattoo, but a heart + of gold. + Revision 12. + + + LAURA + Sebastian -- + + SEBASTIAN + How long's it been? + + LAURA + You need to get serious. You live like a + hermit. You're driving without insurance. + + SEBASTIAN + I am serious. I had a very serious plan + for my future. It's not my fault I got + Shanghai'ed. + + LAURA + You did not get "Shanghai'ed", you got + ripped off. + + SEBASTIAN + What's the difference? + + LAURA + It's not as romantic as that. + (she starts to walk off) + And everyone knew that guy was shady + except for you. + + SEBASTIAN + Why do you say romantic like it's a dirty + word? + + LAURA + Unpaid bills are not romantic. Call her. + +She heads to the door. He follows her, won't give it up -- + + SEBASTIAN + You're acting like life's got me on the + ropes -- what you don't understand is, I + want to be on the ropes. I'm letting life + hit me `til it gets tired. Then I'm gonna + make my move. It's a classic rope-a-dope. + +Laura can't help but laugh. Stops by the door. Looks at him. + + LAURA + I love you. Unpack your boxes. + + SEBASTIAN + I'm changing the locks. + Revision 13. + + + LAURA + (out the door with a smile --) + You can't afford it. + + She's gone. Sebastian thinks for a beat, then calls out -- + + SEBASTIAN + I'm a phoenix rising from the ashes! + + No reply to his triumphant declaration. He shuts the door. + Looks again at the napkin. Thinks. Tosses it in the trash. + +A23 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - LATER + + Moments later. Sebastian takes a slice of pizza from the + fridge, pours himself some more coffee, places a Thelonious + Monk LP onto a record player, and sits down at the piano. + + "Japanese Folk Song" -- the piece we heard in his car -- + plays... + + Sebastian plays along. Stops. Moves the record back a few + bars. Starts it again. Plays the same passage over. Stops. + Moves the record back a second time. Plays the passage again. + Stops. Over and over, just like in his car -- until, finally, + he gets it right. + + He keeps playing, louder now, and we're -- + +B23 OMIT + +24 OMIT + +25 OMIT + +26 OMIT + +27 INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT + + A red-booth bar-and-restaurant. Christmas decorations all over. + Sebastian steps in. Immediately beelining over -- + + BOSS + Seb. + + SEBASTIAN + (putting on a smile) + Bill. Thanks for having me back. + + BOSS + Your welcome. Stick to the set list. + Revision 14. + + + SEBASTIAN + Of course. + (under his breath as he heads + to the piano) + Though I don't think they care what I + play. + + BOSS + I do, and I don't want to hear the free + jazz. + + SEBASTIAN + How `bout one for you, one for me? Or two + for you, one for me? + (the Boss just glares) + Or all for you, none for me? Ok, that + works. Good deal. + + Sebastian sits down at the keys. A WAITRESS passes by. + + WAITRESS + Well... Welcome back. + + SEBASTIAN + There's a nice way to say that. + + With that -- he starts playing "Jingle Bells". + +28 INT. RESTAURANT - LATER + + The restaurant's demographic has changed. It's now younger + stragglers wandering in. Sebastian looks beyond bored. He + finishes "We Wish You a Merry Christmas". Zero applause. + + He begins a new chart: "Deck the Halls". But something seems + to come over him now. He's restless. Slowly, his playing + drifts off -- his fingers charting their own path... + + And then -- we hear a melody. The one Mia heard outside. The + one we'll refer to from now on as Mia and Sebastian's song... + + The door opens -- and Mia steps in. She sees Sebastian at the + piano. Is instantly struck by his playing. [MIA AND + SEBASTIAN'S THEME] + + Gradually -- all sounds but the music drop out. We drift away + from reality. Even the walls seem to go slightly darker -- as + though Sebastian and Mia were all alone... He concludes his + piece with a jumble of chords, his playing almost free jazz + now, as we pull back to real life... + + ...and see the Boss looking on in scorn. + Revision 15. + + +Sebastian finishes. Silence. Mia looks like the wind has been +knocked out of her. Sebastian looks up for a second -- and +sees her. They look at one another. Just a moment. + +Then -- the Boss taps Sebastian on the shoulder. WE STAY ON +Mia as she watches Sebastian rise with the Boss. We just see +the Boss talking to Sebastian, can't hear what is said. Then, +we get closer -- and realize: + + BOSS + ...every goddamned night. + +Sebastian is silent. Then, doesn't want to have to beg but -- + + SEBASTIAN + I'll stick to the set list, I promise -- + + BOSS + Too late. You're done. + + SEBASTIAN + You're not gonna find a better player. You + know that. + + BOSS + (leans in, and --) + Do you think anyone here gives a shit? + +With that, the Boss walks off. We linger on Sebastian. Anger +giving way -- to hurt. He starts hurrying toward the door. + +BACK TO Mia -- who didn't hear what was said. She watches +Sebastian -- takes a breath, so moved that she's about to lay +it all out -- swoops in to corner him -- and -- + + MIA + I just wanted to say -- I saw your + playing, and I -- + +-- but Sebastian just walks right by -- his shoulder +bumping against Mia's for an added measure of disdain. + +He heads out the door. Slams it shut. Mia is left standing on +her own. She looks like she's just been slapped. + +SMASH CUT TO BLACK. + Revision 16. + + + SPRING + +29 OMIT + +30 INT. AUDITION ROOMS - DAY + + Mia auditions. Pilot season cattle-call -- a series of soul- + crushing try-outs. She's pandering to the hilt. Quick glimpses: + + MIA (CONT'D) + I don't like the fissure on the GT scan. + Did you test for achromatopsia? + +31 Then, a second audition -- + + MIA (CONT'D) + D.O.A. on 23rd, perp laughing his face off + at P.D. Damn Miranda Rights. + +32 And finally, a third audition -- + + MIA (CONT'D) + This is my classroom. You don't like it, + the door's to my left. + + READER (O.S.) + (a well-dressed forty-year-old + WOMAN reading from sides) + Lady why you be trippin' like that? + + MIA + No, Jamal. You be trippin'. + + + +34 EXT. PARTY - DAY + + Mia wanders around another party. A BAD 80's COVER BAND plays. + + TRACY + There you are! You need to meet someone! + Carlo, this is Mia. Mia, Carlo's a writer. + + CARLO TRACY + Nice to meet you, Mia. He's got projects all over + town. + + CARLO + (shrugs, faux-modest) + They say I have a knack for world-building. + + MIA + (takes this in; then --) + Congratulations. I have to grab a drink... + Revision 17. + + + She slips away. Presses toward the bar. The music gets louder, + more obnoxious. She peers toward the band to get a look... + + And then she sees him. Sebastian. + + Playing keyboard-guitar for the band. Dressed up like his band- + mates in a bright polyester outfit. And hating every second. + + The band finishes, and the SINGER addresses the (thin) crowd. + + SINGER + Alright, one more for y'all before we + break. Do I hear any requests? + + MIA + "I Ran". + + Sebastian turns. Sees Mia, looking at him with a defiant grin, + enjoying her power. He thinks -- then recognizes the face. + + SINGER + "I Ran" it is. + (to Sebastian) + Wanna start us off, piano-man? + + Sebastian stays silent. Mortified. Finally, so reluctant, he + taps his keyboard to count the band in and begins playing. + + On the keys, it's a single note, repeated measure after measure. + Mia knew this. Sebastian looks at her. She smiles right back. + + SINGER (CONT'D) + I walked along the avenue... + +35 EXT. PARTY / INT. HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER + + Set break. Sebastian hurries from the keys -- enters the house, + looks both ways, finally spots Mia and -- + + SEBASTIAN + Ok. I remember you. + + Mia looks at him. One eyebrow raised. Yeah? + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + And I'm sorry if I was curt that night. + + MIA + "Curt"? + + SEBASTIAN + Ok I was an asshole. I can admit that. + Revision 18. + + + MIA + Ok. + + SEBASTIAN + But requesting "I Ran" from a serious + musician -- it's too far. + + MIA + My God. Did you just call yourself "a + serious musician"? + + SEBASTIAN + (beat) + I don't think so. + + MIA + Can I borrow what you're wearing? + + SEBASTIAN + Why? + + MIA + Because I have an audition next week. I'm + playing a serious fire-fighter. + + SEBASTIAN + (irritation building --) + So you're an actress. That makes sense. + Have I seen you in anything? + + MIA + Uh... The coffee shop on the Warner + Brothers lot. That's a classic. + + SEBASTIAN + Oh, you're a barista. Well now I see how + you can look down on me from all the way + up there. + + SINGER + (popping in from nowhere) + Sebastian. Second set. + +Sebastian looks at Mia. She smirks. Pleased. The Singer walks +off. + + SEBASTIAN + He doesn't tell me what to do. + + MIA + He just told you what to do. + + SEBASTIAN + I let him. + Revision 19. + + + A beat. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + What's your name? + + MIA + Mia. + + SEBASTIAN + Mia. Guess I'll see you in the movies. + + He heads back to the keys, and the band resumes: + + SINGER + Never seen you lookin' so lovely as you + did tonight... + +36 EXT. PARTY / STREET - NIGHT + + The party's finished. Sebastian exits, pulling out his keys, + as we DRIFT and see a long line to the VALET. Standing way in + the back, waiting, is Mia. She's stuck once again with CARLO, + who's regaling her -- + + CARLO + ...Goldilocks from the point of view of + the bears. Home-invasion thriller. Fox + and Warners are going crazy for it. + + Mia spots Sebastian, passing by the Valet with his keys. + + CARLO (CONT'D) + ...We're going after Charlize. For the + bear. We're flipping it. Feels like a + franchise. But the thing is it's grounded. + + MIA + (to Sebastian) + George Michael! + + Sebastian stops. Looks at her. Surprised. + + SEBASTIAN + You again. + + MIA + Did you just get your keys? + + Sebastian thinks. Sees the Valet. Playing it off -- + + SEBASTIAN + ...Yeah. + Revision 20. + + + MIA + Can you grab mine? + + SEBASTIAN + ...Which one is it? + + MIA + The Prius. + + A beat. Sebastian turns to the Valet's box. Motions to the + Valet: Sorry. One second. Looks. All the keys are Prius keys. + + MIA (CONT'D) + The one with the green ribbon. + + Another beat. Sebastian finds it. Grabs it. + +37 EXT. STREET - NIGHT + + Mia and Sebastian trudge up a hill lined with cars. Mia aims + her key fob. No beep. Sebastian points his own keys, also + aiming for a beep. Silence. They've been at this for a while. + + MIA (CONT'D) + (almost tripping in her heels) + Shit... + + SEBASTIAN + Those look comfortable. + + MIA + They are...n't. + + A beat. She aims again. No beep. + + MIA (CONT'D) + Thank you for saving the day back there. + + SEBASTIAN + You didn't give me much of a choice. + + MIA + Strange that we keep running into each + other. + + SEBASTIAN + It is strange. Maybe it means something. + + MIA + I doubt it. + + SEBASTIAN + Yeah I don't think so either. + Revision 21. + + +On that, Mia aims again. As always -- no beep. Noticing -- + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Put the clicker under your chin. + + MIA + What? + +Sebastian demonstrates with his fob. He looks idiotic. + + SEBASTIAN + It turns your head into an antenna. + Probably gives you cancer, but you find + your car more quickly. + + MIA + Uh-huh. + + SEBASTIAN + You don't live as long, but you get + things done faster, so it all evens out. + + MIA + Oh my God. + +Just then, they reach a clearing -- AND THE CITY SKYLINE +APPEARS BELOW. A ribbon of lights, stretching as far as you +can see. It's the most romantic sight imaginable. They look +at each other. A beat. And then -- + + MIA (CONT'D) + Eh. + +They walk on, the lights shimmering behind. + + SEBASTIAN + Not much to look at. + + MIA + Agreed. I've seen better. + +And on that -- they SING. [A LOVELY NIGHT] + +Mia and Sebastian try to downplay the romanticism of this +setting, this moment -- being lost here, at night, alone +together, atop a hill, the city glittering before them. It's +"no big deal", nothing they haven't seen or felt before -- +because, after all, there's no chance for romance between +them... + +Of course, the music, swelling and building, suggests +otherwise. Mia tires of her heels, finds a bench and fishes +for flats in her handbag. Sebastian sits beside her as she +slips the flats on. They look at each other, suspicious... + Revision 22. + + +He moves his foot. She moves hers. They look at each other +again. Still suspicious... + +He moves again. She moves again. They seem to be moving in +sync -- without their even wanting to... + +And -- bit by bit -- before our eyes -- they've almost +slipped into DANCE... + +Sebastian rises. Mia rises as well. The two look at each +other. Run back to the bench, hop atop it -- the lights +stretch out like a magic carpet. They share a moment -- share +a look -- jump off -- AND START REALLY DANCING NOW... + +Mia does a move, Sebastian responds. Sebastian does a move, Mia +shakes her head: "Nope". They make the road their own, growing +more and more energized, as surprised as we are to find -- + +...that they can really dance together. + +Just as this starts to look like a blossoming romance, real +joy peeking through, our two heroes getting closer and closer +and closer, looking at each other almost giddily... + +...a sound cuts through. It's a CELL PHONE ring. + +Mia and Sebastian turn -- to her handbag, back by the bench. +Snapped out of it, Mia heads over and pulls out her cell. + + MIA (CONT'D) + Hey... Greg...? Can you hear me...? Yeah, + I'm just leaving now... K, see you soon... + +She hangs up. Looks at Sebastian. An awkward silence. Finally -- +she presses her fob again. Puts it under her chin this time. A +BEEP can be heard. They see her Prius. + + MIA (CONT'D) + Ah. Great... Well... Do you want a ride + to your car? + + SEBASTIAN + No, that's fine... Thanks... + + MIA + ...Ok... + +Not sure what else to say, she heads to her vehicle. Waves. + + MIA (CONT'D) + Night. + +Sebastian waves back. Mia drives off. Fast. Silence... + Revision 23. + + + Looking even more disappointed than he thought he'd be, + Sebastian walks on for a bit -- then retreats back down. + +A37 Comes to a stop across from the party, and we see his Riviera -- + right, it seems, where he knew it was all along. He pulls out + his keys -- they don't have a clicker after all. + +38 OMIT + +39 INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY + + CLOSE on -- + + CUSTOMER + Are these pastries gluten-free? + + Mia's at work. A typically chaotic day. + + MIA + No... + + CUSTOMER + What?? I want a refund. + + Mia nods, heads to the Manager -- + + MANAGER + You're closing up Friday. + + MIA + I have an audition. Remember? + + MANAGER + Do I look like I care? Reschedule it. + + MIA + But you said -- + + MANAGER + And fix your apron. + + With that, the Manager walks off. Mia is silent for a moment + -- wants to talk back but needs this job -- then turns -- and + sees Sebastian at the counter. + + MIA + ...Hi. + (then) + What are you doing here? + + SEBASTIAN + Meetings. Studio heads. + Revision 24. + + + MIA + Uh-huh. How'd you get on the lot? + + SEBASTIAN + Piece of cake. + + Mia looks at him. He's sweating through his shirt. A beat. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Actually it took me four hours and I + ended up running. We probably have twenty + minutes before the guy finds me. You got + a break coming up? + + Mia laughs. A moment. + + MIA + I'm off in ten. + + SEBASTIAN + Great. I'll hide in the bathroom. + +40 EXT. COFFEE SHOP / STUDIO LOT - DAY + + Mia exits, apron off. She and Sebastian start walking. She points + across the street -- to the façade of a Parisian apartment. + + MIA + That's the window Ingrid Bergman and + Humphrey Bogart looked out of in + Casablanca. + + Sebastian nods. They start walking. + + SEBASTIAN + What's your Bogart's name...? + (Mia looks at him) + Is it Greg? + + MIA + Yeah. Greg. + + SEBASTIAN + How long have...? + + MIA + We've been seeing each other for a few + months. + + An awkward beat. They pass a wooden SALOON -- where a WESTERN + is being shot. Extras in COWBOY costumes drink coffee on the + steps. + Revision 25. + + + MIA (CONT'D) + I love this stuff. Makes coming to work + easier. + + SEBASTIAN + I know what you mean. I get breakfast + five miles out of the way just to sit + outside a jazz club. + + MIA + Oh yeah? + + SEBASTIAN + It was called Van Beek. The swing bands + played there. Count Basie. Chick Webb. + (then,) + It's a samba-tapas place now. + + MIA + A what? + + SEBASTIAN + Samba-tapas. It's... Exactly. The joke's on + history. + +Mia laughs. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Anyway, that's L.A. They worship everything + and they value nothing. + +They reach a patch of green. Another shoot. A P.A. yells out: + + P.A. + Clear the frame! + + MIA + (to Sebastian) + We need to wait here. + + SEBASTIAN + I know. They shoot movies on my street. + "C-stands." "Apple box." "Don't forget to + sign out." + +Mia laughs. A beat. + + A.D. (O.S.) + Quiet on set! + +Mia and Sebastian watch the cameras roll. Then, in a whisper -- + + SEBASTIAN + How'd you get into all this? + Revision 26. + + + MIA + Into...? Oh -- I -- my aunt was an + actress. She was in this traveling + theater company... And there was this + little library across the street from my + house when I was growing up. This was + Boulder City, Nevada -- every house + looked exactly the same. I was ten and + already I needed to get out. And one day, + my aunt flew into town, and she showed me + the library's old-movie section. We spent + a whole day watching one after the other. + Bringing Up Baby. Notorious. Casablanca. + (a beat; then,) + I never knew the world was so big. + + DIRECTOR (O.S.) + Cut! + + Mia and Sebastian resume walking. Now, at full volume -- + + MIA + I started putting on plays in my garage. + I'd write the scripts and print up + programs, and she'd give me props to use + from wherever she'd just been -- New + York, London, Paris. And then she'd jet + off again and I wouldn't hear from her + for another year. + + SEBASTIAN + Who would you invite to watch? Your + parents? + + MIA + God no -- I didn't invite anyone. That + would have been terrifying. + +C40 CUT TO: The entrance to a giant soundstage. + + MIA (CONT'D) + Honestly, I wish I loved something else. + I've tried so hard to want other things. + + She and Sebastian stop. Peer inside the stage. + + MIA (CONT'D) + I left school after two years to come here, + my fourth manager just dropped me, and my + last audition was for a teen soap pitched + as Dangerous Minds meets The O.C. + (a beat; then, deadpan --) + Should've been a lawyer. + Revision 27. + + + They resume walking. + +D40 CUT TO: A row of closed soundstages, sandy-tan against the + bright blue sky. + + SEBASTIAN + ...`Cause the world needs more lawyers. + + MIA + Well it doesn't need more actresses. + + SEBASTIAN + You're not just an actress. + + MIA + What do you mean, "just an actress"? + + SEBASTIAN + You said it yourself, you're a child- + prodigy playwright. + + MIA + That is not what I said. + + SEBASTIAN + You're too modest to say it but it's + true. So you could write your own roles. + Write something that's as interesting as + you are. + + MIA + Last thing I wrote was a stand-up routine + for an open-mic night. It was horrible. + + SEBASTIAN + All I'm saying is -- Louis Armstrong + could have played the marching-band + charts he was given. What did he do + instead? He made history. + + MIA + Ok, I'll stop auditioning and make + history instead. + + Sebastian laughs. + + MIA (CONT'D) + Anyway -- I'm getting a feeling there's + something I should tell you... + + SEBASTIAN + Yeah? + Revision 28. + + + MIA + I hate jazz. + + Sebastian stops. Turns to her. + + SEBASTIAN + What does that mean? "I hate jazz"? + + MIA + It means when I listen to it I don't like + it. + + SEBASTIAN + But it's such a blanket statement. It's + like saying "I hate animals". + + MIA + I do hate some animals. + + SEBASTIAN + Do you need to be anywhere right now? + + Mia looks at him. We hear DRUMS. A swinging ride pattern. And + we're in -- + +41 INT. LIGHTHOUSE CAFE - DAY + + -- an old-school JAZZ CLUB. It's almost empty, only aged JAZZ + CATS here -- except for Mia and Sebastian, watching a QUARTET... + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Most people say they hate jazz because + they don't have context. They don't get + where it came from. All these people + packed into flophouses in New Orleans, + speaking five different languages, and + jazz was how they talked to each other. + + MIA + I thought it was just Kenny G. + + SEBASTIAN + ...What? + + Mia looks at him. Already knows just how to get to him. + + MIA + I associate it with facials. It's + relaxing. + + SEBASTIAN + It's not relaxing! Sid Bechet got into a + gunfight `cause somebody told him he + played a wrong note! + Revision 29. + + + MIA + (laying it on thick) + Right, but it's good to talk over. Where + I grew up there's this jazz station + they'd play at cocktail parties whenever + they served the salami and cheese. + + SEBASTIAN + Mia. These are things you can't unsay. + +She bursts into laughter. Sebastian points to the band -- + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + It's not cocktail music -- it's a high- + wire act. These guys are performing and + composing and rearranging all at once. + +A beat. Mia looks at the band. We DRIFT over the instruments... + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + That's why you need to be in the space + and see what's at stake. This whole thing + -- it's dying. In twenty minutes they'll + head off to cut commercial sessions or do + pit at the Pantages `cause they have to -- + but when I have my own place -- my club -- + they'll play whatever they want. + +Mia looks at Sebastian. Her laughter has subsided. She can +see something in him now -- the same passion he's speaking of... + + MIA + Your club? + + SEBASTIAN + ...It's gonna be the old Van Beek. I'm + getting the lease back. It'll be perfect. + +He watches the band. Lost in the sound. Then -- sincere -- + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + The world tells everyone to move on. Says + the music's had its moment. But I love it + too much. I'm not moving on. + +The band finishes. The ride cymbal sizzles in the air... + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + So? + +He looks at Mia. She's visibly moved. + +Just then -- we hear a BEEP. Mia looks at her phone. + Revision 30. + + +42 INT. SIDE CORRIDOR - LIGHTHOUSE CAFE - CONTINUOUS + + MIA + Hi, I just missed a call... + +43 INT. LIGHTHOUSE CAFE - MOMENTS LATER + + Mia steps out, dazed. Sebastian's listening to a new tune. He + spots Mia, turns to her -- as, shouting over the music -- + + MIA (CONT'D) + I got a call-back! + + SEBASTIAN + Really? For what? + + MIA + That show I told you about. + + SEBASTIAN + Dangerous Minds meets The O.C.? + + MIA + Right. It's -- actually more like Rebel + Without a Cause. + + SEBASTIAN + That's amazing! "I got the bulletsssss!" + + Mia laughs. But Sebastian can tell something in her laugh... + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + You've seen it, right? + + MIA + Obviously. + (a beat; then --) + No. + + SEBASTIAN + What? You're the movie person. + + MIA + It's the one I lie about. + + SEBASTIAN + Come on. You can't do this audition and + never see Rebel. The theater near me's + playing it. If you want -- I can take + you. For research. + + MIA + (considering this) + ...Ok. + Revision 31. + + + SEBASTIAN + 10pm Monday at the Rialto. Cool? + + MIA + Ok. + (another nod, taking it in) + For research. + + Mia looks at him -- he looks at her -- each of them + suppressing a newfound giddiness... And on that -- + +44 EXT. LIGHTHOUSE CAFE - EVENING + + Mia and Sebastian exit. Wave "good-bye". We FOLLOW Sebastian. + He rounds the corner, nears the Hermosa Beach pier... + + ...and begins to SING. [CITY OF STARS] Lifted by a strange + new feeling -- a feeling he wasn't expecting. The feeling + that perhaps -- just perhaps -- he's falling in love... + + He gazes out at the sea, the purple sky. Dances with an OLD + COUPLE, then continues on his way, as though caught in a + dream. There's an uncertainty in his singing -- he's not sure + if this dream will sustain. But for now, it's a beautiful + feeling... + + The MUSIC simmers down -- and WE FADE OUT. + +45 EXT. AUDITION BUILDING - DAY + + A Pasadena building. As Mia approaches the door, another cell + ring. It's her MOM. This time, Mia is happy to get the call: + + MIA (CONT'D) + Hi, Mom! + + MIA'S MOM (O.S.) + Hi, sweetie. How are you? + + MIA + Great, actually: I got a call-back on a pilot. + + MIA'S MOM (O.S.) + Oh my God! You're going to be on TV?? + + MIA + Well -- it's not picked up yet. + + MIA'S MOM (O.S.) + Not picked up? + + MIA + First they make the pilot, then if they + like the pilot it goes on TV. + Revision 32. + + + MIA'S MOM (O.S.) + And you're in the pilot? + + MIA + Well, no, I have a call-back. + + MIA'S MOM (O.S.) + I see... Didn't you audition for a TV + thing last week? + + MIA + It's another audition. + + MIA'S MOM (O.S.) + I see... So you might get a role in a + thing that might one day be put on TV... + + MIA + ...Well when you put it like that it + sounds like a huge accomplishment. + + MIA'S MOM (O.S.) + No, I don't mean that, it's so exciting. + What channel? ABC? HBO? + + MIA + Oxygen. + + MIA'S MOM (O.S.) + Oxygen? + + MIA + You know what, I have to go. I love you. + + She hangs up. Takes a deep breath. Enters the building. + +46 INT. WAITING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER + + Mia sits, starts reviewing her script. + + Looks around her -- the room is filled with ACTRESSES silently + MOUTHING THEIR LINES. It's a bizarre sight: a dozen women + moving their mouths, with no sound coming out at all. + + What's more, they're all in variations of the same type of + costume: Michelle Pfeiffer's leather jacket from Dangerous + Minds. + + A few stare at Mia, sizing her up. In the corner, another + one of them GRUNTS while performing stretches. Then -- a + DOOR to the side opens, and Mia can hear -- + + DIRECTOR (O.S.) + ...We'll be seeing you very soon. + Revision 33. + + + An ACTRESS exits. Absolutely beaming. And then, a bored voice -- + + ASSISTANT + Mia Dolan? + +47 INT. AUDITION ROOM - MOMENTS LATER + + Mia steps in. The pilot's DIRECTOR is seated at a table, + looking in his folder at Mia's head-shot. He looks up at Mia. + + DIRECTOR + Whenever you're ready. + + Mia breathes in. Heart pounding. Sweat percolating. Has been + practicing this for days now. + + Fighting her nerves, she begins -- + + MIA + Two options. Follow my rules, or follow + my rules. Kapish? You want to bully, + you'd best be ready to get bullied -- + + DIRECTOR + Thanks. + + Mia is taken aback. + + MIA + I can do it another way -- + + DIRECTOR + No, thanks, that was great. + + We linger on Mia for a moment, and then -- + +48 EXT. PARKING LOT / INT. MIA'S CAR - DAY + + Crestfallen, humiliated, Mia hurries to her car. Sees a voice- + mail on her cell. Plays it -- + + MIA'S MOM (O.S.) + Dad just helped me find Oxygen on the + guide! So exciting! So will you be + getting health insurance now? + + Mia switches her phone off and drives. Clenches her jaw. + Turns left and sees a movie theater. The Rialto. Manages a + smile. + + Something she can remain upbeat about... + Revision 34. + + +49 INT. MIA'S APARTMENT - DAY + + Mia in her room, sorting through outfits. Slips into jeans -- + + ALEXIS + Mia? + + -- then spins around, startled. Alexis is at the door, eating + Fritos. Has been crying. + + ALEXIS (CONT'D) + (with difficulty) + Greg's here... + + Mia looks at Alexis -- completely confused. Then -- Greg steps + out behind Alexis. Waves to her. + + GREG + Hey... I'm parked out front. But we + should hurry, my brother just landed. + + Mia looks at him, still confused. Then remembers. + + GREG (CONT'D) + Did you forget? + + MIA + Shit. No. Yes. I'll change... + + GREG + (smiles) + It's ok. + + Mia closes her door -- turns -- and we see her face. She's + crushed. She goes to call Sebastian -- then freezes. + Remembers something else. She never got his number... + + We linger on her face, as, on his phone outside her door -- + + GREG (O.S.) (CONT'D) + Josh! Yep, just picking Mia up now. Will + be there in twenty. + +50 INT. LIGHTHOUSE CAFE - NIGHT + + Sebastian's playing a jam session. Excited, distracted. 10pm + can't come quickly enough. + +51 INT. JAR - NIGHT + + Mia, in a green dress, with Greg, his brother JOSH, and + Josh's FIANCEE. The restaurant is posh, modern. Josh wears a + Brooks Brothers suit: he seems better-off than his brother. + Revision 35. + + + JOSH + That's right -- but now we've got a + surround-sound set-up, so it's like -- + + FIANCEE + It's like being in a movie theater. + + JOSH + It's better than going to a theater, + really. You know theaters these days -- + + GREG + Oh, sure -- + + JOSH + -- they're so dirty, and they're either + too hot or too cold, and there's always + people talking, which is just -- + (his phone buzzes) + -- just so annoying, I mean you're trying + to watch a movie -- one second -- + (opens phone) + Hello?... + + His Fiancée smiles, looks at Greg and Mia, proud. + + FIANCEE + Probably work. + + JOSH + Yeah, I'll have to call you back. + (closes and pockets his phone) + So, yeah, we love it. + + Awkward silence. Mia hasn't spoken a word. + +52 EXT. RIALTO MOVIE THEATER - NIGHT + + Sebastian paces. People shuffle in. He looks. No sign of Mia. + +53 INT. JAR - NIGHT + + Midway through the meal. + + Mia is bored, restless, uneasy. + + JOSH (CONT'D) + One word for you. Nicaragua. + + GREG + I've never heard anyone say that. Was it + amazing? + Revision 36. + + + JOSH + Oh my God. A five-star jungle eco-resort. + It was unbelievable. + + Mia stays quiet, in her own thoughts, the voices around her + fading away. And then she hears it -- coming from the + restaurant speakers, peeking out subtly at first: the melody + we now know so well... Her and Sebastian's song. + + She FREEZES. The radio music seems to have morphed into the + melody, and the tune stirs something deep within her... + + A few seconds pass. And then she can't deny it any longer. + It's clear as day to her now. She rises from her seat -- + + GREG + Mia? + + -- looks at Greg -- + + MIA + I'm sorry. + + -- and -- as the sounds of a FULL ORCHESTRA swoop in -- + + -- RUNS out of the restaurant as fast as she can. + +54 EXT. JAR - NIGHT + + The MUSIC SWELLS, strings carrying us through and lifting + Mia's spirits as she runs down the street in her green dress, + for once absolutely sure of what she's doing... + +55 INT. RIALTO MOVIE THEATER - NIGHT + + Inside the Rialto, Sebastian settling into his seat, the show + about to begin. He's visibly disappointed that he's alone. The + lights dim. Projector light cuts through the darkness. And + then, as the movie's credits start up, Sebastian spots, out of + the corner of his eye, a figure in the aisle... + + He looks. The figure turns. Looks at him. It's Mia. + + And, caught like a freeze-frame in the projector light, her + green dress incandescent, the giant movie screen behind her + like a great piece of back-projection, she looks more beautiful + than ever right now. A true old-fashioned screen siren. + + Sebastian's eyes go wide. He's surprised. And thrilled. He + waves. Mia hurries toward him. Takes the seat next to his, + as Rebel Without a Cause begins... + Revision 37. + + +56 INT. RIALTO MOVIE THEATER - LATER + + Half an hour has passed. The movie plays, lights flickering + on Mia and Sebastian's darkened faces. + + He puts his arm on the armrest, she moves hers nervously. + + He scoots to his right, she scoots back. + + She edges her elbow onto the armrest, he moves his arm. + + Inch by inch, their bodies grow closer. Hands approaching, + breaths quickening, hearts pounding... + + ...until finally their hands touch... + + And then, suddenly -- just as James Dean and Natalie Wood + arrive at Griffith Observatory, and Mia and Sebastian seem + about to kiss -- + + -- burn marks streak their way across the image. + + The screen goes blank. + + Silence. The lights go on. Mia and Sebastian turn around. + AUDIENCE MEMBERS start murmuring. Sebastian can barely + believe his bad luck. + + But then Mia turns to him. Energized. + + MIA (CONT'D) + I have an idea. + +57 EXT. ROAD - NIGHT + + Sebastian's car, traveling up a winding road, stars glittering + above it, the lights of Los Angeles glittering below it. The sky + is a deep, painted blue. Music plays... [PLANETARIUM] + + The car is bending around the turns, making its way up to... + +A57 ...the real Griffith Observatory. There, our MUSIC crests. + Our two characters get out of the car and wander, searching + for an open entrance. They find one -- and sneak in... + +58 INT. GRIFFITH OBSERVATORY - CONTINUOUS + + They ascend a staircase. Make their way past the exhibits -- + the Tesla coil shooting off electric bolts. + + They reach the pendulum, gaze up at the mural above it, look at + one another. Circle the pendulum, and then -- so tenderly, so + nervously... + Revision 38. + + + ...they begin to DANCE. + + This is a dance that fulfills all the promise in their + earlier duet. They circle the floor, gently and gracefully. + The music BUILDS, and they drift into... + +A58 ...the PLANETARIUM. It's darkened, empty. Mia removes her + shoes, feels the soft carpet under her feet. Turns on the + projector. The screen STARTS TO GLOW. She and Sebastian take + in the sight -- the STARS and GALAXIES... + + Enchanted, they look at one another, the lights from the + screen reflected on their faces. They approach, as though + about to kiss... When -- + + -- Mia's shoes LIFT UP. Float toward the ceiling -- toward the + star-filled screen. She and Sebastian trade looks. Realize. + And then they too begin to FLOAT... + + ...RISING from the floor, nothing stopping them. SOARING + past the views of comets and moons and nebulae. Eyes wide, + their emotions seized, as they HOLD EACH OTHER TIGHT... + + And so unspools a gravity-free dance. + + Mia and Sebastian SPIN and TWIRL through the planetarium as + though they themselves were in outer space, flying through + the cosmos. The music carries them higher and higher, and + their spirits likewise soar -- JOYOUS, EXUBERANT -- until, + finally... + + ...the music SOFTENS. + + Mia and Sebastian drift back to the floor like feathers. They + land on a pair of seats. + + There, once again seated like audience members at a movie, they + turn and look into each other's eyes. The music picks back up + for the big finish, as the lovers lean in and -- in true movie- + movie old-Hollywood big-musical fashion -- + + -- LOCK LIPS. + + It's their first kiss, and it's a kiss to remember -- full of + all the hope and yearning and terror and wonder of love's first + blush. A swoon-worthy kiss, with the orchestra soaring and the + camera swooping in to catch the embrace in all its glory. + + On this triumphant moment... + + ...we IRIS FADE OUT. + Revision 39. + + +59 OMIT + +60 INT. MIA'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - DAY + + Mia's scribbling in a notebook. It's dialogue. We see character + headings, scene headings. Seems to be some kind of a script... + + TRACY (O.S.) + What's that? + + Mia turns. Tracy has wandered in -- pajamas, eating cereal. + + TRACY (CONT'D) + Is that a script? + + MIA + It's a play. I'm going to put it on myself. + + ALEXIS (O.S.) + (chiming in from her bedroom) + A play? You better give us roles! + + MIA + Actually -- it's a -- it's a one-woman + show... + + A beat -- and then -- + + AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT. + + HONKING outside the nearest window. It's a honk we recognize: + + TRACY + ...Is that gonna happen every time? + + MIA + (glowing) + I think so. + +A60 OMIT + +61 EXT. MIA'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY + + Mia dashes out -- and LEAPS into Sebastian's car and into his + arms. They KISS -- giddy, emotional, as though they'd been + separated for years. Sebastian drives off -- when -- + + MIA (O.S.) (CONT'D) + It's one-way!! + + The car SCREECHES to a stop in front of a TRUCK going the + opposite direction. Sebastian goes into REVERSE as Mia cracks + up laughing. A BURST OF MUSIC as a title card pops on: + Revision 40. + + + SUMMER + + The MUSIC carries us through the following series of GLIMPSES: + +62 -- Mia and Sebastian ambling past weathered 30's bungalows in + BUNKER HILL... + +63 -- Mia guiding Sebastian down a street peppered with SILENT- + ERA HOMES, past old gas-lamps and palms... + +65 -- VAN BEEK. Sebastian gestures to the "TAPAS & TUNES" sign. + Excitedly tries to deface it. Mia, aghast, pulls him back... + +66 -- The HUNTINGTON GARDENS, where Mia and Sebastian gaze at + the tiny forest... + +A66 -- WATTS TOWERS, where the two lovers stroll and kiss... + +67 OMIT + +64 -- The GRAND CENTRAL MARKET, where they grab food... + +68 -- ANGEL'S FLIGHT at night, where they stumble and slip into + a tipsy, love-soaked dance... + +69 OMIT + + Interspersed throughout, WE SEE IMAGES OF LOS ANGELES: + + 1940's high-rises, green movie-movie lettering, ochre walls + shaded by palm fronds, red flowers and Spanish missions, old + lamps and Art Deco hotels. It's a gorgeous city, and the music + only makes it more gorgeous -- building and carrying us to... + +70 INT. LIGHTHOUSE CAFE - NIGHT + + A Lighthouse JAM SESSION. Sebastian's at the keys, having a + blast. The place is again mostly empty, but Mia is dancing her + heart out. She shoots looks at Sebastian. He laughs, plays out + for her. The two of them are in their own world -- one of pure, + unadulterated JOY... + + The song ends. Sebastian rises, joins Mia. They sit down as + the band strikes up a new tune, and kiss. + + KEITH (O.S.) + Sebastian? + + Mia and Sebastian look up, startled. A YOUNG MAN, 35, is + standing next to them. Tall, fierce eyes. This is KEITH. + + SEBASTIAN + Keith? + Revision 41. + + + KEITH + Holy shit. Come here, man. + +Sebastian gets up. Gives him a hug. But Mia can sense an +unease in Sebastian's eyes. It's a strained hug. + + SEBASTIAN + This is Mia. Mia, Keith. + (explaining to Mia) + We used to play together. + + KEITH MIA +Hey, Mia. Hey... + +Sebastian sits back down. Wants to end the conversation. + + KEITH + So how've you been? + + SEBASTIAN + Great. You? + + KEITH + Keeping busy. Got a new combo. + + SEBASTIAN + Good for you. + + KEITH + ...Looking for keys. + + SEBASTIAN + (after a beat) + I'm good. + + KEITH + You sure? It pays. + +Sebastian looks at Keith. A moment. + + SEBASTIAN + I'm good. + +Keith almost smiles. Expected this. + + KEITH + Let's just grab a drink then. Call me. + It's been too long. + + SEBASTIAN + You bet. + + KEITH + Nice meeting you, Mia. + Revision 42. + + + MIA + Nice meeting you. + + Keith walks off. Mia and Sebastian look at each other. Then -- + +71 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT + + CLOSE ON MIA. She looks anxious. CLOSE ON Sebastian. He looks + head-over-heels in love. + + SEBASTIAN + It's beautiful. + + MIA + ...You're just saying that. + + SEBASTIAN + No... I'm not. + + We PULL BACK -- and see a script on Mia's lap. She's just + finished reading Sebastian her play. + + MIA + I don't know... Is the whole thing too + nostalgic? + + SEBASTIAN + That's the point. + + MIA + But do you think people will like it? + + SEBASTIAN + Fuck `em. + + MIA + (laughs) + You always say that. + + SEBASTIAN + I truly believe it. + + MIA + Fine -- as long as you sit front-row + `cause I'll probably throw up on the + middle of the stage otherwise. + + SEBASTIAN + I'll be front-row. + + Mia looks at him. Smiles. It genuinely means the world to + her. Then, a glow in her eyes, wants to reciprocate -- + Revision 43. + + + MIA + I made something for you. + +She hops off the bed, fishes through a bag. Pulls out a +drawing. + + SEBASTIAN + What's that? + + MIA + It could be the name design. On the door. + + SEBASTIAN + Why does it say "Seb's"? + + MIA + That's what you should name it. + + SEBASTIAN + Never. + + MIA + Sebastian, no one's going to a club called + "Chicken on a Stick". + + SEBASTIAN + You don't get it. Charlie Parker got the name + "Bird" because he loved chicken. So my club's + gonna be old-school jazz and beer and + chicken. "Chicken on a Stick". + + MIA + No. Drop the chicken. Drinks and jazz. + (he rolls his eyes) + And it's time to start looking for other + places. + + SEBASTIAN + It's gotta be Van Beek. I can't let them + samba all over its history. + + MIA + Make your own history. + +Sebastian looks at her. Appreciates that line. A beat. Then -- + + SEBASTIAN + Your play's incredible. + +Mia smiles. He approaches her, sits by her side. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + The whole world from your bedroom? Who's + doing that? + Revision 44. + + + MIA + I'm doing that. + +They laugh. + + MIA (CONT'D) + So who was that guy at the Lighthouse? + + SEBASTIAN + ...Which guy? + + MIA + The one who offered you a gig. + + SEBASTIAN + You mean Keith? He's the worst. + + MIA + Why was it weird between you two? + + SEBASTIAN + It's always weird with him. + + MIA + He did offer you a job. + + SEBASTIAN + Right... + + MIA + Are you going to call him? + + SEBASTIAN + No. + +A beat. + + MIA + Ok... + +A moment passes. They lie down, side by side. + + SEBASTIAN + Here's what we know. It's definitely + Chicken on a Stick -- + (Mia rolls her eyes) + -- and your play is going to be a + triumph. + +She looks at him. He looks at her. A shared smile. + +And on that -- + Revision 45. + + +72 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - MORNING + + The next morning. Sebastian is in bed. Hears snatches of Mia's + voice -- she's on her phone in the other room: + + MIA (O.S.) + ...No, Mom, it's a one-woman show... No, + I'm acting in it as well... No, I'm not + getting paid, I'm paying to do it... + (then,) + He's great... He's going to open his own + jazz club. It's going to be incredible... + (beat; then, softer --) + Well he has to get the money together + first, and... He's figuring it out... + Yeah, it's just been a little tricky + lately... + + Sebastian listens. Takes it in. + + MIA (O.S.) (CONT'D) + Look -- he's going to find a way to open + it and you're going to love it. Ok? How's + Dad? + + On Sebastian. He thinks... + +73 INT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY + + Sebastian enters. Keith's combo is assembled. + + It's a sign-up practice room in the West Valley. There's a + drummer, electric bassist, and trumpeter: COLE, MALCOLM and + TOM. They're more polished in their looks than Sebastian. + Well-groomed beards, tighter jeans. + + KEITH + Sebastian. + + Sebastian approaches. + + KEITH (CONT'D) + Didn't know if I'd see you today. + + SEBASTIAN + (a bit awkward) + Well... Here I am. + + A moment. Then -- + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Where's the piano? + + Keith gestures -- to an electronic keyboard. Sebastian winces. + Revision 46. + + + KEITH + Here's the deal. We've got distribution + with Universal, got our own imprint. + We're about to go on the road. We can cut + you in for 1K a week while we tour, plus + an equal share of any merchandise or + ticket revenue that comes in. Sound good? + + We see Sebastian's face. Taken aback. + + KEITH (CONT'D) + Sebastian? + + SEBASTIAN + Yeah, that...that... + (beat) + ...sounds good. + + A moment. Keith smiles. + + KEITH + Let's play, see how it feels. + + He pulls out a guitar. Cole starts on drums. Keith joins in. + Malcolm and Tom follow suit. Sebastian listens. It sounds like + modern jazz -- electronic in feel, but still jazz... + + Sebastian approaches the keyboard. Joins -- slowly, one step + at a time. Then begins playing out a bit more, his fingers + starting to race. Malcolm gives Keith a look: "Damn". Keith + gives Malcolm a look back: "I told you so." Bit by bit, + Sebastian eases into the groove. This isn't so bad... + + Then -- Keith moves to a LAPTOP. Introduces a DRUM-MACHINE + SAMPLE. + + Sebastian, into the music, is caught off-guard. Uneasy now. + This isn't him... + + Keith plays a riff on his guitar. Tom echoes it on bass, then + Malcolm on trumpet. Now it's Sebastian's turn. He hesitates. + And then -- finally -- he plays the riff... + + It doesn't feel so bad. The guys build on the riff. Sebastian + keeps up with them, trying to let go of his presuppositions. + + After all -- these guys can play... + + The music builds, the whole thing swelling and finally + CARRYING US TO -- + +A73 LATER: Sebastian and Keith sit across from each other as + the other players pack up. Sebastian looks pensive. Noticing -- + Revision 47. + + + KEITH (CONT'D) + I know. It's different. + + Sebastian stays silent. Then, leaning in -- + + KEITH (CONT'D) + But you say you want to save jazz. How + are you going to save jazz if no one's + listening? Jazz wouldn't exist if people + hadn't gotten tired of what they were + listening to before. + (then,) + I mean, do you really think a bunch of + ninety-year-olds in a basement is the + future of the form? Traditionalists whined + when Kenny Clarke started dropping bombs. + If traditionalists had their way, we'd + still be playing Dixieland. + + Sebastian considers this. As much as he might make a play of + resisting -- we can tell the words are getting to him... + + SEBASTIAN + You're holding onto the past. But jazz is + about the future. + + A moment. Then -- + + KEITH + I get it. I got it wrong. Last guy wasn't + as good as you. But you're a pain in the + ass, man. + + Sebastian nods. Knows he can't argue with that. + + Another beat. + + KEITH (CONT'D) + If it's not your thing, just let me know. + I don't want you uncomfortable and trying + to change this into something it's not. + But if you want it -- the job's yours. + + Sebastian looks at Keith. A moment. He's really weighing + this. And on that -- his look of uncertainty -- we're -- + +74 OMIT + +75 OMIT + +76 OMIT + +77 OMIT + Revision 48. + + +77pt INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - DUSK + + The door opens. Mia enters. Takes a deep breath. Hears piano. + Steps forward and sees Sebastian at his piano -- playing a + melody we've heard before. [CITY OF STARS AS DUET] + + She smiles. Sebastian begins to SING. Mia sits down beside + him and begins to SING as well. They share a duet -- simple, + unaffected, hopeful -- the music just perhaps suggesting + their uncertainty about what they might be about to do... + + As the vocals give way to instrumentation, we're -- + +A77 OMIT + +B77 OMIT + +C77 OMIT + +78 INT. DINER - DAY + + Sebastian and Keith hunched over paperwork. Sebastian signs... + +A78 INT. COFFEE SHOP / STUDIO LOT - DAY + + Mia handing the Manager her apron. She's done with the job... + +80 INT. PRACTICE SPACE - DAY + + The band rehearsing in their new PRACTICE SPACE. We see + Sebastian play, see Keith sing this time... + +79 INT. CAFE - DAY + + Mia hunched over her script, obsessively fine-tuning it... + +81 OMIT + +82 OMIT + +83 INT. DESIGNER CLOTHING STORE - DAY + + Sebastian gets dressed up in a new suit... + +84 INT. BLACK-BOX THEATER - DAY + + We follow Mia through a BLACK-BOX THEATER in North Hollywood. + The space is small, simple -- but perfect. We see her haggle + with the OWNER -- and then light up. They shake hands... + +85 INT. GREEN ROOM - EVENING + + Sebastian and the band in a green room, waiting. Sebastian's + wearing the new suit. Looking sharper... + Revision 49. + + +86 INT. VINTAGE SHOP - DAY + + Mia looking for PROPS. Another wild assortment -- a TOP HAT, + a CANE, a DIORAMA of London, rolled-up MAPS, an old GLOBE... + +87 OMIT + +88 INT. APARTMENT - DAY + + We MOVE IN on a laptop. On it a YOUTUBE video plays -- an + interview with Sebastian, Keith and the rest of the band... + +89 EXT. RIALTO - DAY + + Mia drives by the Rialto theater. It's now CLOSED... + +90 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT + + Mia sits on the floor, penciling out drawings for her play. + Costume and poster sketches scattered by her feet. She's + tired. The clock on the wall reads: 10:54pm. + +A90 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT + + Mia gets into bed. Checks her phone. Turns off the light. + +B90 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - DAWN + + Sebastian enters the apartment. Checks his reflection in the + mirror -- a new addition. The clock reads: 4:57am. + +C90 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAWN + + Sebastian gets into bed, careful not to wake Mia. + +D90 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - MORNING + + Mia crosses through to the kitchen to get herself breakfast, + careful not to wake Sebastian. The clock: 7:02am. + +E90 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - MORNING + + Sebastian in bed, fast asleep. And WE RETURN TO... + +F90 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - DUSK + + ...Mia and Sebastian at the piano, before this latest journey + began, finishing their song. The last lyrics resonating as + they look into one another's eyes: + + SEBASTIAN MIA + City of stars... You've never shined so + brightly. + Revision 50. + + + On that -- this image of love, Sebastian playing out the + final chords on his piano -- WE GO DARK. + + All sound fades out. And then, we hear -- + + -- a CROWD CHEERING. [START A FIRE] + + We see -- a white spotlight. It reveals Sebastian. We're -- + +91 INT. THE ECHO - NIGHT + + Sebastian is on-stage. He's the only musician we can see. The + floor beyond the stage is FILLED with people. + + Among them, we spot Mia -- beaming with pride. Sebastian sees + her, smiles to her as he plays a piano intro. Mia grins right + back, heart swelling... + + A SECOND SPOTLIGHT turns on, illuminating Keith. He SINGS. He + has a beautiful voice. Mia bobs her head. It's just Keith and + Sebastian right now, all acoustic, a simple, catchy tune... + + And then -- suddenly -- a DRUM MACHINE SURGES IN -- and -- + + BOOM! The entire CLUB is lit up as the MUSIC EXPLODES. A full- + fledged dance beat and a thick radio-ready electronic track. + + Mia is taken aback. But she keeps bobbing her head -- as the + crowd around her GOES CRAZY... + + Keith owns the stage, as Sebastian plays out more -- now + switched to an electronic keyboard, complete with synth + sounds. We recognize fragments of melody from when Keith and + Sebastian first rehearsed -- but the tune has been + transformed beyond recognition. Not a hint of jazz... + + Keith breaks into the CHORUS -- and a TRIO OF BACKUP SINGERS + are revealed stage-left. The band surges into the song's + bridge -- and BACKUP DANCERS appear stage-right, scantily- + clad. + + And then -- the lights go NUTS. It's a full-out LIGHT SHOW + now, shafts of red, blue, green and orange cutting through + the dark. The crowd starts CHEERING, pumping their fists... + + Mia looks at Sebastian. He's not fighting any of this. He + sees her. She smiles. But something is changing in her + expression... + + She looks at the lights, the singers, the dancers, Sebastian + and his bandmates in matching magazine-cover-ready outfits. + She looks at the crowd around her -- their hollers growing + more and more frenzied as Sebastian launches into a prolonged + SOLO... + Revision 51. + + + Mia looks back at him, takes it all in: Is this really him...? + + As the mass of people swells and moves, Mia finds herself + PUSHED TO THE SIDE, bit by bit, away from the center... + + She tries to hold her ground, but is edged FURTHER AND + FURTHER AWAY. Sebastian, deep in his solo, doesn't notice. + Mia tugs against the tide of the crowd, but to no avail. + She's pushed to the back of the club, away from the lights + and into shadow... + + The final chorus begins -- floor-shaking, fist-pounding. We + linger on Mia's face -- watching as the band feverishly tear + into their climactic bars, the dancers on-stage and the crowd + below busting out one last burst of CRAZED CHOREOGRAPHY -- + ending the song just as we SMASH CUT TO A TITLE CARD OVER + BLACK: + + FALL + + Silence. + + We take a moment to collect ourselves before -- + +92 OMIT + +93 EXT. / INT. CHINESE RESTAURANT - LOS ANGELES - DAY + + CLOSE on Mia. She looks tired. A bit weathered. She's nursing a + green tea across from Laura. They've finished eating. + + LAURA + Look at him -- watch -- + + Mia glances out the window. A MAN in his early 40's has just + parked, is walking around his car, inspecting it. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + Now he's going to check the other window. + Yep, it's closed. Now he's going to check + again. Yep, still closed. + + Mia smiles. The MAN enters the restaurant -- greets Mia -- and + kisses Laura. This is HARRY. Her new boyfriend. + + HARRY + Hey. I'm grabbing some pastries, you two + want anything? + + MIA + Thanks Harry, I'm good. + Revision 52. + + + LAURA + Same here but I think someone's trying to + break into your car. + +Harry rolls his eyes, heads to the front. Laura looks at Mia. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + Don't stress about the play. Where's Seb now? + + MIA + I think today's San Diego. I'm not sure... + +A moment passes. + + LAURA + You should come over tonight. Harry's + cooking, but don't let that stop you. + (Mia manages a smile; a beat) + What's the matter? + + MIA + Nothing... + + LAURA + You miss him. + + MIA + I guess. I'm adapting. + + LAURA + (nods; then,) + I got used to being alone. Growing up it + was just me and Seb. We only had each other. + + MIA + He told me. + + LAURA + I wasn't looking for anybody. Then I met + Harry and -- we just fit... + (Mia smiles) + You've changed Seb. You know that? + +Laura means it positively -- but Mia seems concerned... + + MIA + Do you think he's happy? + + LAURA + Is he happy? + + MIA + I mean with the band, the travel, all of it. + Revision 53. + + + Laura shrugs. + + LAURA + Our dad never got to do what he wanted. + We were always treading water, he took a + job running a washer-dryer store. But + every night at home he'd play his + clarinet along to a Benny Goodman record. + (a beat) + So I look at Sebastian... Playing music, + getting paid for it. I'm happy for him. + + She notices Harry through the window, returning. Her thoughts + drift. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + Dreams change. + + A beat. She looks back at Mia. Sees her worry. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + Don't overthink it. He'll be home soon. + + Harry rejoins the table. Hands Laura a sponge cake. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + I told you not to get me anything! + + HARRY + Oh, right -- I'll eat it I guess. + + LAURA + No -- I changed my mind. + + They laugh. Kiss. Tender. Loving. Mia watches... + +94 INT. DINER - NIGHT + + Mia eats, her laptop next to her meal. She takes a bite, types. + We see her screen -- an e-mail draft, glimpses of words: "one- + woman show", "one night only", "7pm", "I would be thrilled..." + + She thinks. Picks up her phone. Dials Sebastian. Waits. No + answer. + + MIA + Hey it's me... Not sure where you are -- + maybe Boston? Or Dallas? Anyway... I + haven't heard from you in a while... I + miss you... + (a beat) + Ok... Bye... + + She hangs up. Resumes typing. + Revision 54. + + +95 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT COMPLEX / APARTMENT - NIGHT + + Mia walks through the courtyard. Reaches the door. Then hears + something... Music -- LOUD, FAST JAZZ... + + She enters -- has to jostle the door handle to do so -- + + -- and then freezes in place. Sebastian is sashaying around a + fully-decked table, lighting candles as he moves. He looks + up, sees her -- and grins. + + SEBASTIAN + Surprise. + + She lights up. He lifts up silver serving trays, revealing + what he's cooked. Roast chicken. Pasta. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + And... + (he hurries to the kitchen -- + and holds up a big apple pie) + There's twenty-five pounds of apples in + it. It probably destroyed an ecosystem + but it tastes good. + + Mia laughs. Can't believe it. Sebastian looks at her -- + sincere now. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + I have to head back in the morning but I + needed to see you. + + Mia's eyes seem almost on the brink of tears. Beyond moved, + she runs into Sebastian's arms. A LONG, HEARTFELT KISS... + +96 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - EVENING + + CLOSE ON: The record player. An old jazz track. We see Mia and + Sebastian seated at the table -- eating, drinking, laughing. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Feels so good to be home. + + MIA + Stay. + + He smiles. + + SEBASTIAN + How's the play going? + + MIA + I'm nervous. + Revision 55. + + + SEBASTIAN + Why? + + MIA + Because... + (a beat) + What if people show up? + + SEBASTIAN + Fuck `em! + +Laughter. Then -- + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + You're nervous about what they think? + + MIA + I'm nervous to be up on a stage and + perform in front of people. I'm + terrified. + + SEBASTIAN + They should be so lucky to see it. + (then,) + It's going to be incredible. I can't + wait. + + MIA + I can. + +A smile. Beat. + + MIA (CONT'D) + What time do you leave in the morning? + + SEBASTIAN + 6:45. + + MIA + Ugh. + + SEBASTIAN + Yep. Boise. + + MIA + Boise? + + SEBASTIAN + (nods) + You should come. + + MIA + To Boise? + Revision 56. + + + SEBASTIAN + Yeah, you could knock that off your + bucket list. + +Mia laughs. + + MIA + Wish I could. + +A beat. + + SEBASTIAN + Why can't you? + + MIA + Come to Boise? + + SEBASTIAN + Yeah. + + MIA + Because I have to rehearse. + + SEBASTIAN + Can't you rehearse anywhere? + +She looks at him. + + MIA + You mean anywhere you are? + + SEBASTIAN + ...I -- I guess... + + MIA + Well, all my stuff is here and my show's + in a few weeks and -- I don't know, it + doesn't seem practical... + + SEBASTIAN + Right... I just -- we're going to have to + do things so we can see each other. We + never see each other. + + MIA + I know, but when are you done? + + SEBASTIAN + ...What do you mean? + + MIA + When are you done with the tour? + Revision 57. + + + SEBASTIAN + But -- as soon as we're done with the + tour we go back and record, and then we + go back on tour. + +Mia looks at him. Doesn't seem to understand. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + We tour so we can make the record, and + then we go back on tour to sell the + record. + +Beat. Mia takes this in. + + MIA + So it's...the long haul? + + SEBASTIAN + ...What does that mean? + + MIA + I mean the long haul -- like, you're + going to be in this band for a long time. + + SEBASTIAN + What did you think I was going to do? + + MIA + I don't know, I didn't think the band + would -- + + SEBASTIAN + You didn't think we'd be successful. + + MIA + No, that's not what I meant. What I meant + was -- this band -- you're going to be on + the road for -- what, years now? + + SEBASTIAN + Yeah, feasibly -- I could be on the road + for years with just this record. + +Beat. + + MIA + Do you like the music you're playing? + + SEBASTIAN + I don't know how that matters. + + MIA + It matters if you're going to give up + your dream to be on the road for years. + Revision 58. + + + SEBASTIAN +Do you like the music I'm playing? + + MIA +Yes. I do. + (beat) +I just didn't think you did. + + SEBASTIAN +Yeah, well, I -- + + MIA +And now I hear you're going to be on the +road for years, and I'm -- + + SEBASTIAN +What are you doing? Why are you doing +this? + + MIA +What do you mean why am I doing this? + + SEBASTIAN +This is what you wanted from me. + + MIA +To be in this band? + + SEBASTIAN +To have a steady job. + + MIA +Yes, I wanted you to have a job so you +could take care of yourself and start +your club. + + SEBASTIAN +So I'm doing that. So why aren't we +celebrating? + + MIA +Why aren't you starting your club? + + SEBASTIAN +You said yourself no one wants to go to +that club! No one wants to go to a club +called Chicken on a Stick -- + + MIA +Change the name! + + SEBASTIAN +-- and no one likes jazz. Not even you. + Revision 59. + + + MIA + I do like jazz now, because of you. + + SEBASTIAN + (not listening to her) + What am I supposed to do? Go back to + playing "Jingle Bells" so I can save + money for some Shangri-La club no one + wants to go to? + + MIA + People will want to go to it! People love + what other people are passionate about. + + SEBASTIAN + Not in my experience. + +A beat. Mia realizes she's getting nowhere. A moment of +quiet. Then -- + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Anyway -- it's time to grow up. You know? + This is what I'm doing. If you had a + problem, I wish you would've said + something earlier, before I signed on the + dotted line. + + MIA + (trying again) + You had a dream that you were sticking + to, that -- + + SEBASTIAN + This is the dream! + + MIA + This is not your dream. + + SEBASTIAN + Guys like me go their whole lives and + never do anything that's liked. I'm + finally doing something that people + enjoy. What is wrong with that? + + MIA + Why do you care so much about being liked + -- ? + + SEBASTIAN + (finally bursting--) + You're an actress, who are you to talk?? + +Silence. We suddenly realize -- + Revision 60. + + + -- the LP has finished. You can hear the needle scratch + against it now -- back and forth, back and forth. Sebastian + looks at Mia. + + A moment. Finally -- + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Maybe you liked me more when I was a + failure because it made you feel better + about yourself. + + Mia looks back at him. Can't believe he said that. Tears + starting to well in her eyes. She tries to suppress them. + + MIA + Are you kidding? + + SEBASTIAN + No. + + They stare at each other. + + Then -- all of a sudden -- the FIRE ALARM blares. + + Sebastian turns and sees smoke billowing from the KITCHEN. A + dish in the oven has started to burn. + + Sebastian rises, springs toward the kitchen -- then sees Mia + grabbing her things. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Wait -- + + But she's out the door. It slams shut, as Sebastian pulls the + burnt apple pie from the oven. + + And on that -- WE SMASH CUT TO -- + +97 OMIT + +98 EXT. THEATER - DAY + + A poster, placed on the front of the theater we saw before. + A title. A name below it: "MIA DOLAN." And a word: "TONIGHT." + + We spot Mia, carrying a box of props. She enters the theater. + And we're -- + +99 INT. THEATER - DAY + + The empty theater. Dark. Silent. Then -- a light turns on. + Mia steps in. We stay WIDE. She seems small from this + vantage point, surrounded by her props and backdrops. She + takes a moment. Looks at all the empty seats. + Revision 61. + + + Takes a deep breath. Nervous. And then, nodding to herself -- + you can do this -- she starts setting up... + +100 INT. PRACTICE SPACE - DAY + + A BLAST of music. The Messengers have just finished a + rehearsal. Sebastian packs his stuff, heads toward the exit, + nodding to the others -- + + SEBASTIAN COLE + See you tomorrow. See ya. + + -- when -- + + KEITH + You good for tonight, right? + + Sebastian stops. Looks at Keith. + + SEBASTIAN + ...Tonight? + + KEITH + Seven. The photo shoot. + (reading Sebastian's face, adding --) + Mojo. + + A beat. Sebastian is confused. + + SEBASTIAN + I thought that was next Thursday. + + KEITH + No. It's tonight. + + We linger on Sebastian for a moment... + + KEITH (CONT'D) + Is that ok? + +101 EXT. REHEARSAL SPACE - DAY + + Sebastian stands out front. Checks his watch. Thinks... + +102 OMIT + +103 INT. THEATER / INT. BACKSTAGE - NIGHT + + People are shuffling into the theater. We DRIFT BACKSTAGE. + Mia, now in a male suit and tie, watches behind a curtain. + Checks her phone. 7:04. Breathes in. Nervous, and alone... + + She turns. Nods to the OWNER, off to the side. He heads to a + switch, and the lights GO DOWN. + Revision 62. + + + You can hear the murmurs beyond the curtain. The audience, + expecting. Mia tries to get her nerves under control. She can + do this... Sets her phone aside -- one last breath -- + + -- and walks out. + +104 OMIT + +105 OMIT + + + +106 INT. PHOTO STUDIO - NIGHT + + LOUD MUSIC. It's the band's song, blaring from a speaker. + They're pantomiming -- the musicians styled and ready for + their close-ups. A PHOTOGRAPHER grabs shots. + + PHOTOGRAPHER + Put a light on the drums... I need more + fill in this corner... + + We ZERO IN on Sebastian. His hair sticks out at various + angles. An artfully-undone tie hangs from his neck. He + fake-plays, as Keith pretends to lay in sampled beats... + + Keith, Tom, Malcolm, Cole -- they all grin, as excited as + kids. Sebastian looks at them -- then down at his + elaborate outfit, then back up at the Photographer + running around, then at his watch... + + PHOTOGRAPHER (CONT'D) + Bass, head up. Piano, look down at the + keys. + + Sebastian does as told, but his thoughts are elsewhere. The + Photographer moves in close, SNAPPING shots of just him -- + + PHOTOGRAPHER (CONT'D) + Cut the music. Turn the keyboard live. + Piano look up, play. + + The track stops. Sebastian stops as well. The CLICKS of the + Photographer's camera loud now. + + PHOTOGRAPHER (CONT'D) + No -- piano -- actually play something. + + Sebastian is still. Then he starts to play a single melody + on the keys. We recognize it. The first notes of his and + Mia's song... + Revision 63. + + + PHOTOGRAPHER (CONT'D) + Good, now bite your lip like you're + concentrating on a solo. + + Beat. Sebastian stops. Silence. He stares ahead. + + PHOTOGRAPHER (CONT'D) + That was good. Don't stop. + + We PUSH IN on Sebastian... + +107 INT. THEATER - NIGHT + + We're CLOSE on Mia. In ordinary clothes now. + + Behind her is a wallpapered wall, and a small window. By + her side are the globe we saw in her room, and other little + trinkets: a pearl necklace, an old suitcase, a roll of + maps. Outside the window, projection of a starlit Parisian + night sky. Completely silent, Mia moves to a lamp, turns it + off. + + We go BLACK. + + Then -- the house lights go on. White, fluorescent. Thin + applause can be heard. Mia manages a smile, as we finally see -- + + -- that the theater is less than a quarter full. + + Mia takes a bow. Peers out. One seat, in the front row, has a + "RESERVED" sign on it. The seat is empty. + +108 OMIT + +109 INT. THEATER - DRESSING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER + + Mia slips inside, holding in her hurt. Starts collecting a + few outfits -- then overhears two AUDIENCE MEMBERS outside -- + + AUDIENCE MEMBER #1 (O.S.) + I swear to God, if I have to hear one + more hipster waxing nostalgic I'm gonna + slit my wrists. + + AUDIENCE MEMBER #2 (O.S.) + Seriously. + + AUDIENCE MEMBER #1 (O.S.) + She's not even good. That window + thing...? + + AUDIENCE MEMBER #2 (O.S.) + Christ... Don't quit your day job... + Revision 64. + + + Laughter. + + Mia freezes. The nail in the coffin. The voices fade. She + slides into a chair. + +110 EXT. THEATER - NIGHT + + Sebastian SPEEDING. Screeching to a stop. He's at Mia's THEATER. + He dashes out and runs to the door. + + But it's locked. No one's in sight. Fuck. + + He spins around, frantic -- when Mia appears from an adjacent + doorway, alone and carrying her box of props to her car. + + SEBASTIAN + Mia! + + She turns. Sees him. He runs to her. WRAPS his arms around -- + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + I'm sorry -- + + -- and KISSES her. The kind of kiss that might once have + swept her off her feet. He starts to move with her... + + ...starts to DANCE -- but -- + + MIA + Stop -- + + She pulls away. Steps back. Sebastian looks at her. Unmoored. + + SEBASTIAN + I'm -- I'm sorry I missed it -- and I'm + sorry I was a dick and I -- I promise + I'll make it up to you -- + + MIA + It's over. + + She doesn't say the words with any anger. Just acceptance. + + SEBASTIAN + (a beat; then --) + ...What do you mean? + + MIA + I'm done embarrassing myself. + + SEBASTIAN + You didn't embarrass yourself... + Revision 65. + + + MIA + No one showed up. I can't even pay back + the theater. + + She says this as though just realizing it. Sebastian looks + at her. A moment passes. He doesn't know what to say now. + + MIA (CONT'D) + I'm gonna go home for a while. + + SEBASTIAN + ...This is home. + + MIA + Not anymore. + + Sebastian is silent now. A tear in his eye. He clenches his + jaw. Mia looks at him one more time, steps into her car, and + drives off. + + Sebastian lingers. Doesn't move. Silence. Then, music. Soft, + melancholy, just piano, as... + +111 OMIT + +A111 OMIT + + ...WE DISSOLVE TO: + +112 OMIT + +113 EXT. MIA'S CAR - DAY + + Mia drives, boxes stacked in the back. + +A113 She gets on the 405... Heading out of the city... + +114 EXT. / INT. MIA'S HOUSE - NEVADA - DUSK + + Mia steps inside a modest house. Her MOM is by the door. Hugs + her. Her DAD stands by the hallway. + +115 INT. MIA'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - DUSK + + Mia enters her old bedroom. Slides in a suitcase. Moves a couple + of boxes from the hall. Looks around. Old photos. Old soccer + trophies. She sits down on the bed. Takes a breath. And, + finally, we're... + +116 EXT. ORANGE GROVE - DAY + + Laura and Harry's ENGAGEMENT PARTY. We're outside, in a sun- + dappled grove. A small gathering. + Revision 66. + + + Sebastian plays a baby grand piano -- the source, we realize, + of the music we've been hearing... + + As he watches Laura dance with her new fiancé -- this woman he + has known for so many years as a romantic cynic, now once + again full of all the youthful innocence of first love -- his + thoughts seem to drift. The music comes to a close and... + +117 LATER: Sebastian with Laura, by the orange trees... + + LAURA + You remember the McKenzies? + + SEBASTIAN + Oh God, I didn't see them. + + LAURA + Yeah. They kept going, "oh Sebastian's so + handsome". + + Sebastian smiles. Then -- + + SEBASTIAN + You look beautiful. + (beat) + I hope it was ok. I haven't played in a while. + + LAURA + You were great + (pause) + You're always great when you play. + + Sebastian is silent. Then -- + + LAURA (CONT'D) + Now -- listen to me. I want you to save + for a down payment. You understand? You + need a home. + + SEBASTIAN + Yes ma'am. + + LAURA + I'm not gonna be hovering anymore. + + SEBASTIAN + ...You still think New York? + + LAURA + I think so. Maybe Boston. I don't know, + it's exciting... + + Sebastian smiles again. Some calls from the distance -- + Revision 67. + + + LAURA (CONT'D) + Ah I gotta -- the future in-laws... + + She lights up. Likes the sound of that. + + LAURA (CONT'D) + Is my...my hair...? + + Sebastian, without a word, pulls a strand back. Laura smiles, + kisses him on the cheek. A quiet, tender moment. Then she + hurries off. Sebastian stands there. Watches... + + WE FADE OUT. + +118 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - MORNING + + RINGING. Sebastian is awoken. Groaning, he rolls over. Lets + the phone ring. It keeps going. Endless... Finally, fed up, he + reaches for it. Answers -- + + SEBASTIAN + What...? + + WOMAN #2 (O.S.) + Hi, I'm trying to reach Mia Dolan. + + Sebastian is taken aback. He goes to hang up, saying just -- + + SEBASTIAN + Wrong number. + + WOMAN #2 (O.S.) + -- She's not answering her cell and I was + told I might find her here. + + Sebastian pauses. Hurt by the mere mention of Mia's name -- + + SEBASTIAN + Yeah, well...not anymore. + + WOMAN #2 (O.S.) + Ok. If you do talk to her -- + + SEBASTIAN + I won't. + + WOMAN #2 (O.S.) + -- please tell her Jane at Amy Brandt + Casting is trying to reach her. + + A beat. Sebastian sits up. Suddenly wide-eyed. + + SEBASTIAN + "Casting"...? + Revision 68. + + +119 INT. MIA'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT + + Dinner has just finished. Mia's Mom gives her a kiss -- + + MIA'S MOM MIA + Night, sweetie. Night, Mom. + + -- and heads off, as Mia and her Dad stay behind. Getting up + to scrape the dish -- + + MIA'S DAD + You want some more rice? + + MIA + I'm ok. + + MIA'S DAD + You look hungry. + + MIA + I'm good... + + A moment. Mia's Dad puts a few more dishes away, then sits + back down across from her. + + MIA'S DAD + It's fun having you back. Your mom + ditches me at ten. + + Mia laughs. A moment. + + MIA + You took down the swing. + + MIA'S DAD + She made me. + + A smile. + + MIA'S DAD (CONT'D) + I've still got all your old tapes. + + MIA + Oh God. Throw those away. + + MIA'S DAD + Never. + + Just then -- a loud, persistent HONK. Mia's Dad looks up, + eyebrow raised. Mia turns, hearing it as well. The HONKING + is nearby -- just outside... + + Mia's thoughts suddenly sharpen. Ears perk up. She's heard the + honking before: + Revision 69. + + + AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT. + + MIA'S DAD (CONT'D) + What the hell...? + + Disbelief on Mia's face. It can't be. She heads to the nearest + window. There -- at the corner, smack-dab in front of her + house -- is SEBASTIAN'S CAR. + + A NEIGHBOR angrily yells at him. Sebastian sees Mia. They lock + eyes. And on that -- + +120 EXT. MIA'S HOME / SEBASTIAN'S CAR - MOMENTS LATER + + Mia and Sebastian stand next to his car. + + MIA + Why did you come here? + + SEBASTIAN + Because I have good news. + + MIA + Ok... + + SEBASTIAN + Amy Brandt. The casting director. + + MIA + I know who she is. + + SEBASTIAN + She was at your play. And she loved it. + And she loved it so much that she wants + you to come audition for a huge movie + she's got. + + He's brimming over with excitement. But Mia just shakes + her head. + + MIA + I'm not going. + + SEBASTIAN + ...Excuse me? + + MIA + I'm -- no... That will kill me. + + SEBASTIAN + That's it? + + MIA + Yes. + Revision 70. + + + SEBASTIAN + So you're happy here? + + MIA + I'm happier. + + SEBASTIAN + Why won't you come? + + MIA + I told you. + + SEBASTIAN + I don't buy it. + + MIA + (finally letting it out, fed up --) + Because it's another audition! + (a beat; then --) + I've been to hundreds of auditions. Do + you want to know what happens? Either + they interrupt me because someone ordered + a sandwich, or they cut me off after two + seconds, or I'm crying and they start + laughing, or I'm one of a hundred + lookalikes in the waiting room who never + has a chance, because -- + (beat) + -- because -- + + SEBASTIAN + Because what? + + MIA + Because I'm probably not good enough. + + SEBASTIAN + Yes you are. + + MIA + No. Maybe I'm not. + +A beat. + + MIA (CONT'D) + Maybe I'm one of those people who's + always wanted to do it but never had a + chance. It's a pipe dream. Maybe it's + like you said. Maybe I need to grow up. + +She hesitates. Continues -- + Revision 71. + + + MIA (CONT'D) + I can go back to school. I can find + something else that I'm supposed to do. I + left school to give it a shot, and it + didn't work out, and it took six years, + and I don't want to do it anymore. + + Beat. But Sebastian isn't giving up. + + SEBASTIAN + Why? + + MIA + Why what? + + SEBASTIAN + Why don't you want to do it anymore? + + Mia thinks about this one for a moment. + + MIA + ...Because it hurts a little bit too + much. + + Sebastian shakes his head. Nope. Won't accept this. + + SEBASTIAN + I told them you'd be there at five-thirty + tomorrow. I'll swing by here before I + drive back at eight. Either you'll be + outside or you won't. + + With that, he gets back into his car. Mia is silent. Then -- + + MIA + How did you find me? + + Sebastian turns. Points. Matter-of-fact -- + + SEBASTIAN + The house across from the library. + + He drives off. Mia looks up. There, sure enough, is the + LIBRARY, crouched on the corner. The library that once + helped set her on her path to acting. + + She looks at it. Thinks... + +121 EXT. MIA'S STREET - NIGHT/DAY + + Wide on the street. All is quiet. Night becomes morning... + Revision 72. + + +122 EXT. MIA'S HOME - DAY + + Sebastian's car pulls over. He sits there. Sips a coffee, a + second coffee in the holder. The time: 8:02. + + A moment passes. He taps the wheel. Looks at the house. The + front door remains closed. No Mia. He leans back. Seems + worried. Closes his eyes, breathes out. We MOVE CLOSE on him. + He breathes in and out again... + + He opens his eyes. 8:10. The door's still closed. Resigned, + he starts his car up, BEGINS TO PULL AWAY, when -- + + -- BAM! A KNOCK on the opposite window. He jumps. + + It's Mia. She's just arrived at the car from the other side, + two just-bought cups of coffee and a bag of pastries in her + hands. A beat. Sebastian smiles. Then OPENS the door for her. + +123 OMIT + +124 EXT. PARAMOUNT STUDIO LOT - DAY + + A cloudy late afternoon. Mia and Sebastian slowly walk + through the lot together. They pass the New York street, the + murals and posters of classic Hollywood, the old Art Deco + ornaments and the big soundstages and backdrops. Neither says + a word... + +125 INT. WAITING LOBBY - DAY + + Mia and Sebastian are seated. Waiting. The DOOR opens. An + ACTRESS exits. A second later -- + + ASSISTANT #2 + Mia? + + Mia gathers her nerves. Gets up. And steps in. + +126 INT. AUDITION ROOM / INT. LOBBY - DAY + + In the room is AMY BRANDT -- mid-forties. Seated behind her + is the director, FRANK. + + AMY BRANDT MIA + Hi, Mia. Hi. + + AMY BRANDT + I'm Amy, this is Frank. Glad we found you. + + Mia nods. Smiles. A moment. + + AMY BRANDT (CONT'D) + The movie shoots in Paris. There's no script. + Revision 73. + + + FRANK + We want to build the character with you. + It's a process. Three-month rehearsal, + four-month shoot. + + MIA + ...Ok. + + AMY BRANDT + So why don't you just tell us a story? + + MIA + ...About...? + + AMY BRANDT + About anything. + + Mia nods again. A moment. + + AMY BRANDT (CONT'D) + Whenever you're ready. + + Mia thinks. She takes a breath -- then goes silent again. It + seems she might be unsure what to do, might even be about to + choke the audition. We fear she may botch this completely... + +A126 WE CUT TO THE LOBBY -- to Sebastian, hearing Mia's silence. On + edge... Worried... + +B126 WE RETURN to the AUDITION ROOM... Brandt and Frank waiting... + + MIA + My aunt lived in Paris for a bit... She + used to tell me these stories, when I was + growing up, about living abroad... + (beat) + I remember -- she told me she jumped into + the Seine once... + + She pauses, and then continues -- in SONG. [TRACK: AUDITION] + + Yes, this audition is different than the rest, and the switch + to song signals just that. Mia's nerves fade away -- all the + accents and fakery of earlier auditions a distant memory. This + is Mia undisguised -- pure and stark and beautiful... + + She uses the story of her aunt jumping into the river to + paint a portrait of all the dreamers in the world -- all the + people who are told they're nuts for pursuing their passion -- + all the so-called "fools" who take the plunge. She sings + about them and for them. This is why Mia does what she does -- + why she simply has no choice... + + The song ends, and we linger on her for a moment. Then... + Revision 74. + + + ...WE DISSOLVE TO: + +127 EXT. GRIFFITH PARK - DAY + + Mia and Sebastian sit on a bench, the Observatory perched + behind them. The clouds have parted, and it's now a gorgeous + Los Angeles afternoon, minutes before dusk. + + Sebastian looks at Mia. A moment passes. + + SEBASTIAN + When do you find out? + + MIA + They said the next couple of days... But + I'm not expecting to find anything out. + + SEBASTIAN + You're going to get it. + + MIA + No, I'm not. + + SEBASTIAN + You are. I know these things. + + A beat. + + MIA + Where are we? + + Sebastian looks at her. + + SEBASTIAN + Griffith Park. + + MIA + I mean -- where are we? + + SEBASTIAN + I know... + (beat) + I don't know. + + MIA + What do we do? + + SEBASTIAN + I don't think we can do anything. Because + when you get this -- + + MIA + If I get this -- + Revision 75. + + + SEBASTIAN + When you get this -- you've got to give + it everything you've got. + +Beat. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + It's your dream. + + MIA + What are you going to do? + + SEBASTIAN + I've got to follow my own plan. Stay + here. Get my own thing going. You know... + +A moment. Mia nods. Sebastian looks at her again. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + You're going to be in Paris. Good jazz + there. And you love jazz now. + +Mia smiles. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Right? + + MIA + Right. + +Another moment. And then, finally -- + + SEBASTIAN + I guess we're just going to have to wait + and see. + +Mia's eyes well up, just slightly, as she hears this. She +nods. + + MIA + You know I'm always going to love you. + + SEBASTIAN + I'm always going to love you too. + +Beat. Sebastian looks up at the Observatory. + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Look at this view. + + MIA + (playfully) + I've seen better. + Revision 76. + + + SEBASTIAN + Agreed. + + They laugh. + + Then, almost to herself -- + + MIA + I've never been here during the day. + + Sebastian smiles. A moment. + + We CUT TO WIDE. Sebastian and Mia sit side by side. We linger + here, our two characters framed by the white-and-green + Observatory, the rest of L.A. stretching out beyond. + + And then, ever so slowly... + + ...we FADE TO: + + WINTER + + A palm tree, a cloudless sky. We PULL BACK -- to reveal it's + all painted... + +128 EXT. STUDIO LOT - DAY + + We're on a studio lot, looking at one of the old painted + backdrops, of a palm tree and sky. A new title card: + + Five years later... + + We TILT down to the studio's entryway. A CAR enters. + + A WOMAN steps out. We don't see her face. We FOLLOW her from + behind. She walks elegantly, poised. The wind picks up a + strand of her hair. She makes her way down side-streets we've + seen before, past Parisian-style façades. Then enters a + COFFEE SHOP we recognize... + +129 INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY + + The eyes inside all look the WOMAN's way. She reaches the + counter -- and we finally SEE HER FACE: + + MIA + Hi... Iced coffee, please. + + MIA looks different. Different haircut, different way of + handling herself. + + The BARISTA hurries to get Mia's order. We recognize this as + the shop where Mia used to work. A man who appears to be the + NEW MANAGER gives Mia the coffee -- + Revision 77. + + + NEW MANAGER + On us. + + MIA + No, no, that's fine. + + Mia hands over a few dollar bills. Then drops another bill into + the tip jar. The Barista smiles. + +130 EXT. COFFEE SHOP - MOMENTS LATER + + Mia exits the coffee shop...and is met by a CREW MEMBER on a + GOLF CART. She gets on the cart -- and is driven away... + + CUT TO: + + CLOSE ON hands on piano keys, fluttering across the ivories. + We PULL BACK: it's SEBASTIAN. We're in... + +131 INT. JAZZ CLUB - DAY + + ...a small jazz club. Simple, tasteful, cool. Stone arches in + 1940's style. The seats close to the band, the piano in the + center. The club has the same old-school character as the + Lighthouse -- but it's not run-down. It's polished, inviting. + + The place is empty save for Sebastian and an EMPLOYEE. It's + before-hours. Sebastian finishes playing. Feels out the + lowest keys once more, then the highest. Then turns and -- + + SEBASTIAN + Alright, I'm done. + (gets up) + Harris did a nice job with it. + + EMPLOYEE + Took him long enough. + + Sebastian smiles. + + SEBASTIAN + No one touches the instruments. Carson's + coming an hour early to test levels. + + EMPLOYEE + I got a check for you to sign. + + SEBASTIAN + How'd we do last month? + + EMPLOYEE + Not too bad. + Revision 78. + + + SEBASTIAN + (as he signs the check) + Not too bad is great. + (taps the Employee on the + shoulder) + See you tonight. + + EMPLOYEE + See you tonight. + +132 EXT. CHATEAU MARMONT - DAY + + Mia pulls into the driveway. + +133 INT. ROOM - CHATEAU MARMONT - DAY + + She steps inside. Flowers and cards. We glimpse cursive + "CONGRATULATIONS" written on a few of them. A stack of scripts + on a nearby table. Her name visible. She drops her things, + spots someone, goes in to kiss him. A long, tender, loving + embrace, as we pull back... + + ...and see that it's not Sebastian. + + It's a MAN we haven't seen before: DAVID, mid-thirties. He + and Mia kiss again. And, running over and grabbing Mia's leg, + is a TWO-YEAR-OLD GIRL... + +134 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - EVENING + + Sebastian steps in. The place is more habitable than his old + digs. Fully furnished, warm and welcoming. He heads to the + kitchen, pulls out some pork cutlets he's been thawing. We see, + sitting on the counter, a Christmas card with a photo attached: + Laura, Harry, and a FOUR-YEAR-OLD BOY, all gathered on a couch + and smiling at the camera. + +135 INT. SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT - LATER + + Sebastian eats his meal, in a new shirt and pants. Checks + his watch. + +136 EXT. JAZZ CLUB - DAY + + Sebastian pulls up outside the club. New car, same style. + Gets out and passes by a movie poster as he walks. We + can't see the title, but we can catch a glimpse of a face + on it. + + It's MIA... + +137 INT. JAZZ CLUB - NIGHT + + We're back in the club. + Revision 79. + + + It's bustling now -- the BARTENDERS setting up, DOORMEN + coming in, MUSICIANS sound-checking. Sebastian enters, the + musicians greet him -- + + DRUMMER + King Seb! + + SEBASTIAN + Hothouse Eddie -- miss me? + + DRUMMER + Like the desert misses the rain. + + And then -- we see a SAXOPHONIST we recognize. One of the old + Lighthouse players. + + SAXOPHONIST + Seb -- Edgar's bringing his horn tonight. + + SEBASTIAN + Yeah? Tell him to tune it, huh? + + SAXOPHONIST + That's not Edgar. + + Laughs, pats on the back. + +138 INT. ROOM - CHATEAU MARMONT - NIGHT + + Mia, in a new outfit, crosses the living area and grabs her + purse and jacket. David is by the door, jacket on as well. + Mia bends back around a sofa, where the GIRL we saw before is + seated next to a nineteen-year-old baby-sitter, CHELSEA. + + MIA + Bye, sweetie. You be nice to Chelsea. + + The Girl nods. Mia kisses her forehead. Heads to the door. + + CHELSEA + Bye, Mrs. Dolan. + +139 OMIT + +140 INT. CAR - NIGHT + + David drives, Mia seated beside him. They're on the 101. + Gridlock traffic up ahead. + + DAVID + What if we miss this? What do we tell + Natalie? + Revision 80. + + + MIA + We can just see it back in New York... + + David nods. Looks at the time on the car. 8:06. + +141 INT. CAR - LATER + + Mia and David are seated. Still not moving. Mia looks at the + clock again: 8:27. + + MIA (CONT'D) + Do you want to just skip it...? Turn off + here and get dinner? + + David looks at her. Smiles. + + DAVID + Alright... + +142 EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT + + Mia and David walk down a street. A few open restaurants and + bars, a few other closed storefronts. A lot of old, weathered + buildings: 1930's stucco, Art Deco signs. + + Then -- David's ears perk up. He hears something. MUSIC... + + He looks around. Doesn't see the source. Heads to the end of + the block, then sees, just up ahead, a few people entering a + building. Seems to be where the music's coming from... + + Mia heads over, curious. The music grows louder -- sounds like + a JAZZ COMBO. Mia peeks toward the door... + + ...and then FREEZES. + + The sign on the door reads: "SEB'S". It's written the way she + drew it for Sebastian, years ago... + + Coming up to her side, oblivious -- + + DAVID (CONT'D) + This looks fun. + + David edges past Mia. Glimpses the bar inside. Turns to her, + inviting -- + + DAVID (CONT'D) + Come on... + + Mia doesn't know what to say. She follows David... + Revision 81. + + +143 INT. JAZZ CLUB - CONTINUOUS + + Inside, a JAZZ COMBO is tearing through a fast bop chart. The + seats around the band are almost all occupied. Young fans, + older couples, passersby trickling in from outside. It's an + excited crowd, far more varied than what we saw at the + Lighthouse -- a real range of ages and styles. + + Mia's eyes drift as David heads to the bar. She recognizes the + images on the walls -- all Sebastian's. Recognizes a stool by + the bar -- also Sebastian's, formerly Hoagy Carmichael's... + + DAVID (CONT'D) + Mia? + + She turns to David. Wavering, unsure what to do, she follows + him as he manages to find two empty seats close to the + bandstand... + + The combo finishes. Hearty applause. A young PIANIST rises + from the keys, waves "thanks". + + And -- just then -- Sebastian appears. Mia looks at him, + frozen. + + SEBASTIAN + (taking the microphone) + Manny Halloran, ladies and gentlemen. + (more applause) + I don't know, I told him to play "Jingle + Bells". + + The crowd laughs. Sebastian smiles, looks at them -- + + -- and sees Mia. + + Shock. The two LOCK EYES -- and you can tell it's the first + time they've seen each other in years. + + A prolonged silence. Sebastian is speechless. + + Then -- forcing himself to keep on a face -- + + SEBASTIAN (CONT'D) + Welcome to Seb's. + + More applause. Sebastian sits at the piano. Looks at the keys. + + He seems uncertain -- perhaps unsure what to play. He looks at + Mia. Takes the sight in. Beat. Then looks at his fellow + musicians. Murmurs to them. Then turns back to the keys -- + + -- and finally starts playing. + Revision 82. + + + A quieter tune, just piano, soft and tender and melancholy. A + melody we -- and Mia -- instantly recognize... + + It's Mia and Sebastian's song. + + Mia looks at Sebastian. He looks at her, then back at his keys. + This is the most beautiful we've ever heard his playing. The + most tender, and full of emotion, it has ever sounded. + + We MOVE CLOSER on Sebastian. We recognize this image. It + recalls the visualization of his dream, back at the RESTAURANT + that night in winter, years ago. Gradually, as Sebastian + plays, his surroundings seem to grow DARKER. Slowly, subtly at + first, with just shifts in lighting, then a shift in + perspective, the interior of the club changes, and soon... + +144 ...we find ourselves back at that same RESTAURANT... Back when + Mia laid eyes on Sebastian for the first time... + + Within this fantasy-flashback, Sebastian finishes his piece. + We stick on Mia, watching him as his Boss talks to him. All is + as before, as we remember it... And sure enough, Mia + approaches Sebastian as he walks near her, and -- + + MIA + I just wanted to say -- I saw your + playing, and I -- + + -- but instead of brushing past her -- + + -- Sebastian decks her with a kiss for the ages. + + A BURST OF ORCHESTRAL MUSIC. The DINERS in the restaurant spin + around to face Mia and Sebastian -- and SNAP their fingers in + time. Even the Boss starts to DANCE. Mia and Sebastian grin -- + and then strut out together, hand in hand... [EPILOGUE] + +145 INT. NEW APARTMENT - DAY + + Mia and Sebastian push open a new door -- to their new place. + It's a shabby one-bedroom -- but it's theirs... + +146 INT. LIGHTHOUSE CAFE - NIGHT + + Next, Keith approaches Sebastian at the Lighthouse -- but + Sebastian immediately shakes his head "no". + +147 INT. THEATER - NIGHT + + Sebastian watches Mia perform -- it's the night of her play. + He stands up to applaud -- and behind him, the entire + theater, utterly packed, rises as well. A huge standing + ovation. Mia's ROOMMATES are there, giddy with joy, as are + LAURA and HARRY... + Revision 83. + + +148 INT. STUDIO SOUNDSTAGE - DAY / NIGHT + + Mia and Sebastian walk together outside -- but now that we're + outside we realize this isn't the real L.A. at all.. + + This, in fact, is an L.A. that doesn't exist. A painted- + backdrop L.A., just like the one we saw Mia pass by when + parking on the lot... + + The old orange groves and the gabled rooftops and the moss- + covered bungalows and the ivy-decked lamps, the jacaranda + trees and the giant hills and Griffith and the Santa Monica + Pier -- all painted, all props, all figments of a studio- + backdrop imagination. We've entered a fully fantastical + realm, the realm of the old Hollywood ballets of the 40's and + 50's... + +A148 Everyone DANCES -- the pedestrians and the street performers + and the cops and the guards... AMY BRANDT races up to Mia -- + seems to beckon her to audition... We see the audition + silhouetted against a wall... We don't hear Mia sing, but the + music takes on the melody of her song, carrying us to... + +B148 PARIS... Sebastian travels there with Mia... We chart the + journey through an OLD GLOBE -- the same one we saw Mia use + for her play -- a miniature plane and dissolves, the old- + Hollywood-movie way... + + Finally, we find ourselves looking at a PAINTED BACKDROP of + Paris -- the same one Mia used for her play. The Sacré-Coeur + and the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower etched in bright + colors, the ornate lampposts and the cobblestones stretching + before us... And then a sign -- "CAVEAU DE LA HUCHETTE"... + +C148 We see a jam session at the Caveau -- a crypt-like jazz club. + Sebastian plays, on cloud nine... + +C148pt We see a MOVIE SHOOT, Mia surrounded by lights and cranes, + decked in movie-movie glow. + + We're BACK to the Caveau. The lights go out -- except for the + TRUMPETER, playing out a lovelorn solo, rim-lit. We MOVE in + close on his horn -- DIVE into the bell -- + +D148 -- and emerge into NIGHTTIME PARIS. All painted. Mia and + Sebastian wander through this wonderland, pedestrians frozen + around them... Finally, they stop and look at one another... + + And -- as the city lights behind them start to glitter like + all the stars of the galaxy... + + ...they DANCE. + Revision 84. + + + This is the last time we'll ever see them dance, and they + seem to recognize that, so graceful and poised are their + movements... Remember -- this is a romance more perfect than + a real romance could ever be... + + We DISSOLVE again -- to a projector beam... + + 16mm footage plays on a screen, full of scratches and pockets + of light... Mia and Sebastian sit down to watch together -- + and we see the following moments in brief, vivid GLIMPSES, as + we move in closer on the imagery: + +149 The first home... (16mm) + +150 Mia's pregnancy... (16mm) + +151 The newborn child... (16mm) + +152 The child's first birthday... (16mm) + +153 The child's first day of pre-school, all dressed up... (16mm) + + Everything here glows with the warmth of old home movies... + These are memories, fluttering by, grabbed at random -- and + yet all concocted, dreamed up out of nothing... The SCORE + continuing to sway and taking us right up to... + +154 Sebastian and Mia, husband and wife, father and mother, + hiring a babysitter because they've decided to go out for a + night at the movies... (We're back to 35mm now.) The look + here is unaffected, just everyday. The MUSIC quiets slightly, + everything goes more natural, as this happily married couple + hit the road... + +155 ...then find themselves blocked by a traffic jam...then take + a side route, winding up in another part of L.A... + +156 ...then walk down the street, then hear music -- a jazz combo + playing somewhere... + +157 ...and step into a place that looks just like Sebastian's + club... They sit down to listen... + + And then -- and this is how our imagined montage-musical + number ends -- the combo's PIANIST, who of course is not + Sebastian, launches into Mia and Sebastian's melody... + + ...and Mia and Sebastian look at each other, recognizing it. + + The music goes full-circle, back to where it started, as Mia + and Sebastian look into each other's eyes, lean in and, + softly, but with all the love in the world... + + ...KISS. + Revision 85. + + +158 WE CUT BACK TO THE PIANO: Sebastian has just finished his + piece. We're back to reality. The audience in the club + applauds. + + Beat. Mia looks at Sebastian. Looks away. A moment passes. + + DAVID + Do you want to stay for another? + + She's silent for a second. Then she looks at David. + + MIA + No... We should go. + + He nods. They rise from their seats and head for the exit. + + Just as they reach the door, and as David steps out, Mia turns + and looks back at Sebastian. He looks at her. Their eyes lock. + A hint of a tear in both... + + And, ever so subtly, for just a fleeting second, Mia smiles. + + It's the kind of smile you could miss if you blinked -- but + it's enough to signal to Sebastian that she recognized the + melody he played, and that she still remembers it, and still + thinks of it to this day... + + Then she walks out the door. Sebastian glances at his fellow + musicians. Then, he nods, and they launch into a new chart. + +159 EXT. STREET - NIGHT + + It's silent outside. You can't hear the music. Mia and David + reach their car. They get in. It pulls out. + + Passing by Sebastian's club, the car continues on. We stay put, + the jazz club on one side of the frame, the lights of the car + on the other. Those lights growing smaller and smaller, before + finally disappearing into the big L.A. night... + + IRIS FADE OUT. + + THE END diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/mansfield.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/mansfield.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f367831 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/mansfield.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3235 @@ +The Garden Party + + + + + + + + + + The Garden Party + + by + + Katherine Mansfield + + + + CONTENTS + + 1. At the Bay + + 2. The Garden Party + + 3. The Daughters of the Late Colonel + + 4. Mr. and Mrs. Dove + + 5. The Young Girl + + 6. Life of Ma Parker + + 7. Marriage a la Mode + + 8. The Voyage + + 9. Miss Brill + + 10. Her First Ball + + 11. The Singing Lesson + + 12. The Stranger + + 13. Bank Holiday + + 14. An Ideal Family + + 15. The Lady's-Maid + + + + 1. AT THE BAY. + + Chapter 1. + + I. + + Very early morning. The sun was not yet risen, and the whole of Crescent Bay was hidden under a white sea-mist. The big bush-covered hills at the back were smothered. You could not see where they ended and the paddocks and bungalows began. The sandy road was gone and the paddocks and bungalows the other side of it; there were no white dunes covered with reddish grass beyond them; there was nothing to mark which was beach and where was the sea. A heavy dew had fallen. The grass was blue. Big drops hung on the bushes and just did not fall; the silvery, fluffy toi-toi was limp on its long stalks, and all the marigolds and the pinks in the bungalow gardens were bowed to the earth with wetness. Drenched were the cold fuchsias, round pearls of dew lay on the flat nasturtium leaves. It looked as though the sea had beaten up softly in the darkness, as though one immense wave had come rippling, rippling--how far? Perhaps if you had waked up in the middle of the night you might have seen a big fish flicking in at the window and gone again... + + Ah-Aah! sounded the sleepy sea. And from the bush there came the sound of little streams flowing, quickly, lightly, slipping between the smooth stones, gushing into ferny basins and out again; and there was the splashing of big drops on large leaves, and something else--what was it?--a faint stirring and shaking, the snapping of a twig and then such silence that it seemed some one was listening. + + Round the corner of Crescent Bay, between the piled-up masses of broken rock, a flock of sheep came pattering. They were huddled together, a small, tossing, woolly mass, and their thin, stick-like legs trotted along quickly as if the cold and the quiet had frightened them. Behind them an old sheep-dog, his soaking paws covered with sand, ran along with his nose to the ground, but carelessly, as if thinking of something else. And then in the rocky gateway the shepherd himself appeared. He was a lean, upright old man, in a frieze coat that was covered with a web of tiny drops, velvet trousers tied under the knee, and a wide-awake with a folded blue handkerchief round the brim. One hand was crammed into his belt, the other grasped a beautifully smooth yellow stick. And as he walked, taking his time, he kept up a very soft light whistling, an airy, far-away fluting that sounded mournful and tender. The old dog cut an ancient caper or two and then drew up sharp, ashamed of his levity, and walked a few dignified paces by his master's side. The sheep ran forward in little pattering rushes; they began to bleat, and ghostly flocks and herds answered them from under the sea. "Baa! Baaa!" For a time they seemed to be always on the same piece of ground. There ahead was stretched the sandy road with shallow puddles; the same soaking bushes showed on either side and the same shadowy palings. Then something immense came into view; an enormous shock- haired giant with his arms stretched out. It was the big gum-tree outside Mrs. Stubbs' shop, and as they passed by there was a strong whiff of eucalyptus. And now big spots of light gleamed in the mist. The shepherd stopped whistling; he rubbed his red nose and wet beard on his wet sleeve and, screwing up his eyes, glanced in the direction of the sea. The sun was rising. It was marvellous how quickly the mist thinned, sped away, dissolved from the shallow plain, rolled up from the bush and was gone as if in a hurry to escape; big twists and curls jostled and shouldered each other as the silvery beams broadened. The far-away sky--a bright, pure blue--was reflected in the puddles, and the drops, swimming along the telegraph poles, flashed into points of light. Now the leaping, glittering sea was so bright it made one's eyes ache to look at it. The shepherd drew a pipe, the bowl as small as an acorn, out of his breast pocket, fumbled for a chunk of speckled tobacco, pared off a few shavings and stuffed the bowl. He was a grave, fine-looking old man. As he lit up and the blue smoke wreathed his head, the dog, watching, looked proud of him. + + "Baa! Baaa!" The sheep spread out into a fan. They were just clear of the summer colony before the first sleeper turned over and lifted a drowsy head; their cry sounded in the dreams of little children...who lifted their arms to drag down, to cuddle the darling little woolly lambs of sleep. Then the first inhabitant appeared; it was the Burnells' cat Florrie, sitting on the gatepost, far too early as usual, looking for their milk- girl. When she saw the old sheep-dog she sprang up quickly, arched her back, drew in her tabby head, and seemed to give a little fastidious shiver. "Ugh! What a coarse, revolting creature!" said Florrie. But the old sheep-dog, not looking up, waggled past, flinging out his legs from side to side. Only one of his ears twitched to prove that he saw, and thought her a silly young female. + + The breeze of morning lifted in the bush and the smell of leaves and wet black earth mingled with the sharp smell of the sea. Myriads of birds were singing. A goldfinch flew over the shepherd's head and, perching on the tiptop of a spray, it turned to the sun, ruffling its small breast feathers. And now they had passed the fisherman's hut, passed the charred- looking little whare where Leila the milk-girl lived with her old Gran. The sheep strayed over a yellow swamp and Wag, the sheep-dog, padded after, rounded them up and headed them for the steeper, narrower rocky pass that led out of Crescent Bay and towards Daylight Cove. "Baa! Baa!" Faint the cry came as they rocked along the fast-drying road. The shepherd put away his pipe, dropping it into his breast-pocket so that the little bowl hung over. And straightway the soft airy whistling began again. Wag ran out along a ledge of rock after something that smelled, and ran back again disgusted. Then pushing, nudging, hurrying, the sheep rounded the bend and the shepherd followed after out of sight. + + Chapter 1. + + II. + + A few moments later the back door of one of the bungalows opened, and a figure in a broad-striped bathing suit flung down the paddock, cleared the stile, rushed through the tussock grass into the hollow, staggered up the sandy hillock, and raced for dear life over the big porous stones, over the cold, wet pebbles, on to the hard sand that gleamed like oil. Splish- Splosh! Splish-Splosh! The water bubbled round his legs as Stanley Burnell waded out exulting. First man in as usual! He'd beaten them all again. And he swooped down to souse his head and neck. + + "Hail, brother! All hail, Thou Mighty One!" A velvety bass voice came booming over the water. + + Great Scott! Damnation take it! Stanley lifted up to see a dark head bobbing far out and an arm lifted. It was Jonathan Trout--there before him! "Glorious morning!" sang the voice. + + "Yes, very fine!" said Stanley briefly. Why the dickens didn't the fellow stick to his part of the sea? Why should he come barging over to this exact spot? Stanley gave a kick, a lunge and struck out, swimming overarm. But Jonathan was a match for him. Up he came, his black hair sleek on his forehead, his short beard sleek. + + "I had an extraordinary dream last night!" he shouted. + + What was the matter with the man? This mania for conversation irritated Stanley beyond words. And it was always the same--always some piffle about a dream he'd had, or some cranky idea he'd got hold of, or some rot he'd been reading. Stanley turned over on his back and kicked with his legs till he was a living waterspout. But even then..."I dreamed I was hanging over a terrifically high cliff, shouting to some one below." You would be! thought Stanley. He could stick no more of it. He stopped splashing. "Look here, Trout," he said, "I'm in rather a hurry this morning." + + "You're WHAT?" Jonathan was so surprised--or pretended to be--that he sank under the water, then reappeared again blowing. + + "All I mean is," said Stanley, "I've no time to--to--to fool about. I want to get this over. I'm in a hurry. I've work to do this morning--see?" + + Jonathan was gone before Stanley had finished. "Pass, friend!" said the bass voice gently, and he slid away through the water with scarcely a ripple...But curse the fellow! He'd ruined Stanley's bathe. What an unpractical idiot the man was! Stanley struck out to sea again, and then as quickly swam in again, and away he rushed up the beach. He felt cheated. + + Jonathan stayed a little longer in the water. He floated, gently moving his hands like fins, and letting the sea rock his long, skinny body. It was curious, but in spite of everything he was fond of Stanley Burnell. True, he had a fiendish desire to tease him sometimes, to poke fun at him, but at bottom he was sorry for the fellow. There was something pathetic in his determination to make a job of everything. You couldn't help feeling he'd be caught out one day, and then what an almighty cropper he'd come! At that moment an immense wave lifted Jonathan, rode past him, and broke along the beach with a joyful sound. What a beauty! And now there came another. That was the way to live--carelessly, recklessly, spending oneself. He got on to his feet and began to wade towards the shore, pressing his toes into the firm, wrinkled sand. To take things easy, not to fight against the ebb and flow of life, but to give way to it--that was what was needed. It was this tension that was all wrong. To live--to live! And the perfect morning, so fresh and fair, basking in the light, as though laughing at its own beauty, seemed to whisper, "Why not?" + + But now he was out of the water Jonathan turned blue with cold. He ached all over; it was as though some one was wringing the blood out of him. And stalking up the beach, shivering, all his muscles tight, he too felt his bathe was spoilt. He'd stayed in too long. + + Chapter 1. + + III. + + Beryl was alone in the living-room when Stanley appeared, wearing a blue serge suit, a stiff collar and a spotted tie. He looked almost uncannily clean and brushed; he was going to town for the day. Dropping into his chair, he pulled out his watch and put it beside his plate. + + "I've just got twenty-five minutes," he said. "You might go and see if the porridge is ready, Beryl?" + + "Mother's just gone for it," said Beryl. She sat down at the table and poured out his tea. + + "Thanks!" Stanley took a sip. "Hallo!" he said in an astonished voice, "you've forgotten the sugar." + + "Oh, sorry!" But even then Beryl didn't help him; she pushed the basin across. What did this mean? As Stanley helped himself his blue eyes widened; they seemed to quiver. He shot a quick glance at his sister-in- law and leaned back. + + "Nothing wrong, is there?" he asked carelessly, fingering his collar. + + Beryl's head was bent; she turned her plate in her fingers. + + "Nothing," said her light voice. Then she too looked up, and smiled at Stanley. "Why should there be?" + + "O-oh! No reason at all as far as I know. I thought you seemed rather--" + + At that moment the door opened and the three little girls appeared, each carrying a porridge plate. They were dressed alike in blue jerseys and knickers; their brown legs were bare, and each had her hair plaited and pinned up in what was called a horse's tail. Behind them came Mrs. Fairfield with the tray. + + "Carefully, children," she warned. But they were taking the very greatest care. They loved being allowed to carry things. "Have you said good morning to your father?" + + "Yes, grandma." They settled themselves on the bench opposite Stanley and Beryl. + + "Good morning, Stanley!" Old Mrs. Fairfield gave him his plate. + + "Morning, mother! How's the boy?" + + "Splendid! He only woke up once last night. What a perfect morning!" The old woman paused, her hand on the loaf of bread, to gaze out of the open door into the garden. The sea sounded. Through the wide-open window streamed the sun on to the yellow varnished walls and bare floor. Everything on the table flashed and glittered. In the middle there was an old salad bowl filled with yellow and red nasturtiums. She smiled, and a look of deep content shone in her eyes. + + "You might cut me a slice of that bread, mother," said Stanley. "I've only twelve and a half minutes before the coach passes. Has anyone given my shoes to the servant girl?" + + "Yes, they're ready for you." Mrs. Fairfield was quite unruffled. + + "Oh, Kezia! Why are you such a messy child!" cried Beryl despairingly. + + "Me, Aunt Beryl?" Kezia stared at her. What had she done now? She had only dug a river down the middle of her porridge, filled it, and was eating the banks away. But she did that every single morning, and no one had said a word up till now. + + "Why can't you eat your food properly like Isabel and Lottie?" How unfair grown-ups are! + + "But Lottie always makes a floating island, don't you, Lottie?" + + "I don't," said Isabel smartly. "I just sprinkle mine with sugar and put on the milk and finish it. Only babies play with their food." + + Stanley pushed back his chair and got up. + + "Would you get me those shoes, mother? And, Beryl, if you've finished, I wish you'd cut down to the gate and stop the coach. Run in to your mother, Isabel, and ask her where my bowler hat's been put. Wait a minute--have you children been playing with my stick?" + + "No, father!" + + "But I put it here." Stanley began to bluster. "I remember distinctly putting it in this corner. Now, who's had it? There's no time to lose. Look sharp! The stick's got to be found." + + Even Alice, the servant-girl, was drawn into the chase. "You haven't been using it to poke the kitchen fire with by any chance?" + + Stanley dashed into the bedroom where Linda was lying. "Most extraordinary thing. I can't keep a single possession to myself. They've made away with my stick, now!" + + "Stick, dear? What stick?" Linda's vagueness on these occasions could not be real, Stanley decided. Would nobody sympathize with him? + + "Coach! Coach, Stanley!" Beryl's voice cried from the gate. + + Stanley waved his arm to Linda. "No time to say good-bye!" he cried. And he meant that as a punishment to her. + + He snatched his bowler hat, dashed out of the house, and swung down the garden path. Yes, the coach was there waiting, and Beryl, leaning over the open gate, was laughing up at somebody or other just as if nothing had happened. The heartlessness of women! The way they took it for granted it was your job to slave away for them while they didn't even take the trouble to see that your walking-stick wasn't lost. Kelly trailed his whip across the horses. + + "Good-bye, Stanley," called Beryl, sweetly and gaily. It was easy enough to say good-bye! And there she stood, idle, shading her eyes with her hand. The worst of it was Stanley had to shout good-bye too, for the sake of appearances. Then he saw her turn, give a little skip and run back to the house. She was glad to be rid of him! + + Yes, she was thankful. Into the living-room she ran and called "He's gone!" Linda cried from her room: "Beryl! Has Stanley gone?" Old Mrs. Fairfield appeared, carrying the boy in his little flannel coatee. + + "Gone?" + + "Gone!" + + Oh, the relief, the difference it made to have the man out of the house. Their very voices were changed as they called to one another; they sounded warm and loving and as if they shared a secret. Beryl went over to the table. "Have another cup of tea, mother. It's still hot." She wanted, somehow, to celebrate the fact that they could do what they liked now. There was no man to disturb them; the whole perfect day was theirs. + + "No, thank you, child," said old Mrs. Fairfield, but the way at that moment she tossed the boy up and said "a-goos-a-goos-a-ga!" to him meant that she felt the same. The little girls ran into the paddock like chickens let out of a coop. + + Even Alice, the servant-girl, washing up the dishes in the kitchen, caught the infection and used the precious tank water in a perfectly reckless fashion. + + "Oh, these men!" said she, and she plunged the teapot into the bowl and held it under the water even after it had stopped bubbling, as if it too was a man and drowning was too good for them. + + Chapter 1. + + IV. + + "Wait for me, Isa-bel! Kezia, wait for me!" + + There was poor little Lottie, left behind again, because she found it so fearfully hard to get over the stile by herself. When she stood on the first step her knees began to wobble; she grasped the post. Then you had to put one leg over. But which leg? She never could decide. And when she did finally put one leg over with a sort of stamp of despair--then the feeling was awful. She was half in the paddock still and half in the tussock grass. She clutched the post desperately and lifted up her voice. "Wait for me!" + + "No, don't you wait for her, Kezia!" said Isabel. "She's such a little silly. She's always making a fuss. Come on!" And she tugged Kezia's jersey. "You can use my bucket if you come with me," she said kindly. "It's bigger than yours." But Kezia couldn't leave Lottie all by herself. She ran back to her. By this time Lottie was very red in the face and breathing heavily. + + "Here, put your other foot over," said Kezia. + + "Where?" + + Lottie looked down at Kezia as if from a mountain height. + + "Here where my hand is." Kezia patted the place. + + "Oh, there do you mean!" Lottie gave a deep sigh and put the second foot over. + + "Now--sort of turn round and sit down and slide," said Kezia. + + "But there's nothing to sit down on, Kezia," said Lottie. + + She managed it at last, and once it was over she shook herself and began to beam. + + "I'm getting better at climbing over stiles, aren't I, Kezia?" + + Lottie's was a very hopeful nature. + + The pink and the blue sunbonnet followed Isabel's bright red sunbonnet up that sliding, slipping hill. At the top they paused to decide where to go and to have a good stare at who was there already. Seen from behind, standing against the skyline, gesticulating largely with their spades, they looked like minute puzzled explorers. + + The whole family of Samuel Josephs was there already with their lady-help, who sat on a camp-stool and kept order with a whistle that she wore tied round her neck, and a small cane with which she directed operations. The Samuel Josephs never played by themselves or managed their own game. If they did, it ended in the boys pouring water down the girls' necks or the girls trying to put little black crabs into the boys' pockets. So Mrs. S. J. and the poor lady-help drew up what she called a "brogramme" every morning to keep them "abused and out of bischief." It was all competitions or races or round games. Everything began with a piercing blast of the lady-help's whistle and ended with another. There were even prizes--large, rather dirty paper parcels which the lady-help with a sour little smile drew out of a bulging string kit. The Samuel Josephs fought fearfully for the prizes and cheated and pinched one another's arms--they were all expert pinchers. The only time the Burnell children ever played with them Kezia had got a prize, and when she undid three bits of paper she found a very small rusty button-hook. She couldn't understand why they made such a fuss... + + But they never played with the Samuel Josephs now or even went to their parties. The Samuel Josephs were always giving children's parties at the Bay and there was always the same food. A big washhand basin of very brown fruit-salad, buns cut into four and a washhand jug full of something the lady-help called "Limonadear." And you went away in the evening with half the frill torn off your frock or something spilled all down the front of your open-work pinafore, leaving the Samuel Josephs leaping like savages on their lawn. No! They were too awful. + + On the other side of the beach, close down to the water, two little boys, their knickers rolled up, twinkled like spiders. One was digging, the other pattered in and out of the water, filling a small bucket. They were the Trout boys, Pip and Rags. But Pip was so busy digging and Rags was so busy helping that they didn't see their little cousins until they were quite close. + + "Look!" said Pip. "Look what I've discovered." And he showed them an old wet, squashed-looking boot. The three little girls stared. + + "Whatever are you going to do with it?" asked Kezia. + + "Keep it, of course!" Pip was very scornful. "It's a find--see?" + + Yes, Kezia saw that. All the same... + + "There's lots of things buried in the sand," explained Pip. "They get chucked up from wrecks. Treasure. Why--you might find--" + + "But why does Rags have to keep on pouring water in?" asked Lottie. + + "Oh, that's to moisten it," said Pip, "to make the work a bit easier. Keep it up, Rags." + + And good little Rags ran up and down, pouring in the water that turned brown like cocoa. + + "Here, shall I show you what I found yesterday?" said Pip mysteriously, and he stuck his spade into the sand. "Promise not to tell." + + They promised. + + "Say, cross my heart straight dinkum." + + The little girls said it. + + Pip took something out of his pocket, rubbed it a long time on the front of his jersey, then breathed on it and rubbed it again. + + "Now turn round!" he ordered. + + They turned round. + + "All look the same way! Keep still! Now!" + + And his hand opened; he held up to the light something that flashed, that winked, that was a most lovely green. + + "It's a nemeral," said Pip solemnly. + + "Is it really, Pip?" Even Isabel was impressed. + + The lovely green thing seemed to dance in Pip's fingers. Aunt Beryl had a nemeral in a ring, but it was a very small one. This one was as big as a star and far more beautiful. + + Chapter 1. + + V. + + As the morning lengthened whole parties appeared over the sand-hills and came down on the beach to bathe. It was understood that at eleven o'clock the women and children of the summer colony had the sea to themselves. First the women undressed, pulled on their bathing dresses and covered their heads in hideous caps like sponge bags; then the children were unbuttoned. The beach was strewn with little heaps of clothes and shoes; the big summer hats, with stones on them to keep them from blowing away, looked like immense shells. It was strange that even the sea seemed to sound differently when all those leaping, laughing figures ran into the waves. Old Mrs. Fairfield, in a lilac cotton dress and a black hat tied under the chin, gathered her little brood and got them ready. The little Trout boys whipped their shirts over their heads, and away the five sped, while their grandma sat with one hand in her knitting-bag ready to draw out the ball of wool when she was satisfied they were safely in. + + The firm compact little girls were not half so brave as the tender, delicate-looking little boys. Pip and Rags, shivering, crouching down, slapping the water, never hesitated. But Isabel, who could swim twelve strokes, and Kezia, who could nearly swim eight, only followed on the strict understanding they were not to be splashed. As for Lottie, she didn't follow at all. She liked to be left to go in her own way, please. And that way was to sit down at the edge of the water, her legs straight, her knees pressed together, and to make vague motions with her arms as if she expected to be wafted out to sea. But when a bigger wave than usual, an old whiskery one, came lolloping along in her direction, she scrambled to her feet with a face of horror and flew up the beach again. + + "Here, mother, keep those for me, will you?" + + Two rings and a thin gold chain were dropped into Mrs Fairfield's lap. + + "Yes, dear. But aren't you going to bathe here?" + + "No-o," Beryl drawled. She sounded vague. "I'm undressing farther along. I'm going to bathe with Mrs. Harry Kember." + + "Very well." But Mrs. Fairfield's lips set. She disapproved of Mrs Harry Kember. Beryl knew it. + + Poor old mother, she smiled, as she skimmed over the stones. Poor old mother! Old! Oh, what joy, what bliss it was to be young... + + "You look very pleased," said Mrs. Harry Kember. She sat hunched up on the stones, her arms round her knees, smoking. + + "It's such a lovely day," said Beryl, smiling down at her. + + "Oh my dear!" Mrs. Harry Kember's voice sounded as though she knew better than that. But then her voice always sounded as though she knew something better about you than you did yourself. She was a long, strange-looking woman with narrow hands and feet. Her face, too, was long and narrow and exhausted-looking; even her fair curled fringe looked burnt out and withered. She was the only woman at the Bay who smoked, and she smoked incessantly, keeping the cigarette between her lips while she talked, and only taking it out when the ash was so long you could not understand why it did not fall. When she was not playing bridge--she played bridge every day of her life--she spent her time lying in the full glare of the sun. She could stand any amount of it; she never had enough. All the same, it did not seem to warm her. Parched, withered, cold, she lay stretched on the stones like a piece of tossed-up driftwood. The women at the Bay thought she was very, very fast. Her lack of vanity, her slang, the way she treated men as though she was one of them, and the fact that she didn't care twopence about her house and called the servant Gladys "Glad-eyes," was disgraceful. Standing on the veranda steps Mrs. Kember would call in her indifferent, tired voice, "I say, Glad-eyes, you might heave me a handkerchief if I've got one, will you?" And Glad-eyes, a red bow in her hair instead of a cap, and white shoes, came running with an impudent smile. It was an absolute scandal! True, she had no children, and her husband...Here the voices were always raised; they became fervent. How can he have married her? How can he, how can he? It must have been money, of course, but even then! + + Mrs. Kember's husband was at least ten years younger than she was, and so incredibly handsome that he looked like a mask or a most perfect illustration in an American novel rather than a man. Black hair, dark blue eyes, red lips, a slow sleepy smile, a fine tennis player, a perfect dancer, and with it all a mystery. Harry Kember was like a man walking in his sleep. Men couldn't stand him, they couldn't get a word out of the chap; he ignored his wife just as she ignored him. How did he live? Of course there were stories, but such stories! They simply couldn't be told. The women he'd been seen with, the places he'd been seen in...but nothing was ever certain, nothing definite. Some of the women at the Bay privately thought he'd commit a murder one day. Yes, even while they talked to Mrs. Kember and took in the awful concoction she was wearing, they saw her, stretched as she lay on the beach; but cold, bloody, and still with a cigarette stuck in the corner of her mouth. + + Mrs. Kember rose, yawned, unsnapped her belt buckle, and tugged at the tape of her blouse. And Beryl stepped out of her skirt and shed her jersey, and stood up in her short white petticoat, and her camisole with ribbon bows on the shoulders. + + "Mercy on us," said Mrs. Harry Kember, "what a little beauty you are!" + + "Don't!" said Beryl softly; but, drawing off one stocking and then the other, she felt a little beauty. + + "My dear--why not?" said Mrs. Harry Kember, stamping on her own petticoat. Really--her underclothes! A pair of blue cotton knickers and a linen bodice that reminded one somehow of a pillow-case..."And you don't wear stays, do you?" She touched Beryl's waist, and Beryl sprang away with a small affected cry. Then "Never!" she said firmly. + + "Lucky little creature," sighed Mrs. Kember, unfastening her own. + + Beryl turned her back and began the complicated movements of some one who is trying to take off her clothes and to pull on her bathing-dress all at one and the same time. + + "Oh, my dear--don't mind me," said Mrs. Harry Kember. "Why be shy? I shan't eat you. I shan't be shocked like those other ninnies." And she gave her strange neighing laugh and grimaced at the other women. + + But Beryl was shy. She never undressed in front of anybody. Was that silly? Mrs. Harry Kember made her feel it was silly, even something to be ashamed of. Why be shy indeed! She glanced quickly at her friend standing so boldly in her torn chemise and lighting a fresh cigarette; and a quick, bold, evil feeling started up in her breast. Laughing recklessly, she drew on the limp, sandy-feeling bathing-dress that was not quite dry and fastened the twisted buttons. + + "That's better," said Mrs. Harry Kember. They began to go down the beach together. "Really, it's a sin for you to wear clothes, my dear. Somebody's got to tell you some day." + + The water was quite warm. It was that marvellous transparent blue, flecked with silver, but the sand at the bottom looked gold; when you kicked with your toes there rose a little puff of gold-dust. Now the waves just reached her breast. Beryl stood, her arms outstretched, gazing out, and as each wave came she gave the slightest little jump, so that it seemed it was the wave which lifted her so gently. + + "I believe in pretty girls having a good time," said Mrs. Harry Kember. "Why not? Don't you make a mistake, my dear. Enjoy yourself." And suddenly she turned turtle, disappeared, and swam away quickly, quickly, like a rat. Then she flicked round and began swimming back. She was going to say something else. Beryl felt that she was being poisoned by this cold woman, but she longed to hear. But oh, how strange, how horrible! As Mrs. Harry Kember came up close she looked, in her black waterproof bathing-cap, with her sleepy face lifted above the water, just her chin touching, like a horrible caricature of her husband. + + Chapter 1. + + VI. + + In a steamer chair, under a manuka tree that grew in the middle of the front grass patch, Linda Burnell dreamed the morning away. She did nothing. She looked up at the dark, close, dry leaves of the manuka, at the chinks of blue between, and now and again a tiny yellowish flower dropped on her. Pretty--yes, if you held one of those flowers on the palm of your hand and looked at it closely, it was an exquisite small thing. Each pale yellow petal shone as if each was the careful work of a loving hand. The tiny tongue in the centre gave it the shape of a bell. And when you turned it over the outside was a deep bronze colour. But as soon as they flowered, they fell and were scattered. You brushed them off your frock as you talked; the horrid little things got caught in one's hair. Why, then, flower at all? Who takes the trouble--or the joy--to make all these things that are wasted, wasted...It was uncanny. + + On the grass beside her, lying between two pillows, was the boy. Sound asleep he lay, his head turned away from his mother. His fine dark hair looked more like a shadow than like real hair, but his ear was a bright, deep coral. Linda clasped her hands above her head and crossed her feet. It was very pleasant to know that all these bungalows were empty, that everybody was down on the beach, out of sight, out of hearing. She had the garden to herself; she was alone. + + Dazzling white the picotees shone; the golden-eyed marigold glittered; the nasturtiums wreathed the veranda poles in green and gold flame. If only one had time to look at these flowers long enough, time to get over the sense of novelty and strangeness, time to know them! But as soon as one paused to part the petals, to discover the under-side of the leaf, along came Life and one was swept away. And, lying in her cane chair, Linda felt so light; she felt like a leaf. Along came Life like a wind and she was seized and shaken; she had to go. Oh dear, would it always be so? Was there no escape? + + ...Now she sat on the veranda of their Tasmanian home, leaning against her father's knee. And he promised, "As soon as you and I are old enough, Linny, we'll cut off somewhere, we'll escape. Two boys together. I have a fancy I'd like to sail up a river in China." Linda saw that river, very wide, covered with little rafts and boats. She saw the yellow hats of the boatmen and she heard their high, thin voices as they called... + + "Yes, papa." + + But just then a very broad young man with bright ginger hair walked slowly past their house, and slowly, solemnly even, uncovered. Linda's father pulled her ear teasingly, in the way he had. + + "Linny's beau," he whispered. + + "Oh, papa, fancy being married to Stanley Burnell!" + + Well, she was married to him. And what was more she loved him. Not the Stanley whom every one saw, not the everyday one; but a timid, sensitive, innocent Stanley who knelt down every night to say his prayers, and who longed to be good. Stanley was simple. If he believed in people--as he believed in her, for instance--it was with his whole heart. He could not be disloyal; he could not tell a lie. And how terribly he suffered if he thought any one--she--was not being dead straight, dead sincere with him! "This is too subtle for me!" He flung out the words, but his open, quivering, distraught look was like the look of a trapped beast. + + But the trouble was--here Linda felt almost inclined to laugh, though Heaven knows it was no laughing matter--she saw her Stanley so seldom. There were glimpses, moments, breathing spaces of calm, but all the rest of the time it was like living in a house that couldn't be cured of the habit of catching on fire, on a ship that got wrecked every day. And it was always Stanley who was in the thick of the danger. Her whole time was spent in rescuing him, and restoring him, and calming him down, and listening to his story. And what was left of her time was spent in the dread of having children. + + Linda frowned; she sat up quickly in her steamer chair and clasped her ankles. Yes, that was her real grudge against life; that was what she could not understand. That was the question she asked and asked, and listened in vain for the answer. It was all very well to say it was the common lot of women to bear children. It wasn't true. She, for one, could prove that wrong. She was broken, made weak, her courage was gone, through child-bearing. And what made it doubly hard to bear was, she did not love her children. It was useless pretending. Even if she had had the strength she never would have nursed and played with the little girls. No, it was as though a cold breath had chilled her through and through on each of those awful journeys; she had no warmth left to give them. As to the boy-- well, thank Heaven, mother had taken him; he was mother's, or Beryl's, or anybody's who wanted him. She had hardly held him in her arms. She was so indifferent about him that as he lay there...Linda glanced down. + + The boy had turned over. He lay facing her, and he was no longer asleep. His dark-blue, baby eyes were open; he looked as though he was peeping at his mother. And suddenly his face dimpled; it broke into a wide, toothless smile, a perfect beam, no less. + + "I'm here!" that happy smile seemed to say. "Why don't you like me?" + + There was something so quaint, so unexpected about that smile that Linda smiled herself. But she checked herself and said to the boy coldly, "I don't like babies." + + "Don't like babies?" The boy couldn't believe her. "Don't like me? " He waved his arms foolishly at his mother. + + Linda dropped off her chair on to the grass. + + "Why do you keep on smiling?" she said severely. "If you knew what I was thinking about, you wouldn't." + + But he only squeezed up his eyes, slyly, and rolled his head on the pillow. He didn't believe a word she said. + + "We know all about that!" smiled the boy. + + Linda was so astonished at the confidence of this little creature...Ah no, be sincere. That was not what she felt; it was something far different, it was something so new, so...The tears danced in her eyes; she breathed in a small whisper to the boy, "Hallo, my funny!" + + But by now the boy had forgotten his mother. He was serious again. Something pink, something soft waved in front of him. He made a grab at it and it immediately disappeared. But when he lay back, another, like the first, appeared. This time he determined to catch it. He made a tremendous effort and rolled right over. + + Chapter 1. + + VII. + + The tide was out; the beach was deserted; lazily flopped the warm sea. The sun beat down, beat down hot and fiery on the fine sand, baking the grey and blue and black and white-veined pebbles. It sucked up the little drop of water that lay in the hollow of the curved shells; it bleached the pink convolvulus that threaded through and through the sand-hills. Nothing seemed to move but the small sand-hoppers. Pit-pit-pit! They were never still. + + Over there on the weed-hung rocks that looked at low tide like shaggy beasts come down to the water to drink, the sunlight seemed to spin like a silver coin dropped into each of the small rock pools. They danced, they quivered, and minute ripples laved the porous shores. Looking down, bending over, each pool was like a lake with pink and blue houses clustered on the shores; and oh! the vast mountainous country behind those houses--the ravines, the passes, the dangerous creeks and fearful tracks that led to the water's edge. Underneath waved the sea-forest--pink thread-like trees, velvet anemones, and orange berry-spotted weeds. Now a stone on the bottom moved, rocked, and there was a glimpse of a black feeler; now a thread-like creature wavered by and was lost. Something was happening to the pink, waving trees; they were changing to a cold moonlight blue. And now there sounded the faintest "plop." Who made that sound? What was going on down there? And how strong, how damp the seaweed smelt in the hot sun... + + The green blinds were drawn in the bungalows of the summer colony. Over the verandas, prone on the paddock, flung over the fences, there were exhausted-looking bathing-dresses and rough striped towels. Each back window seemed to have a pair of sand-shoes on the sill and some lumps of rock or a bucket or a collection of pawa shells. The bush quivered in a haze of heat; the sandy road was empty except for the Trouts' dog Snooker, who lay stretched in the very middle of it. His blue eye was turned up, his legs stuck out stiffly, and he gave an occasional desperate-sounding puff, as much as to say he had decided to make an end of it and was only waiting for some kind cart to come along. + + "What are you looking at, my grandma? Why do you keep stopping and sort of staring at the wall?" + + Kezia and her grandmother were taking their siesta together. The little girl, wearing only her short drawers and her under-bodice, her arms and legs bare, lay on one of the puffed-up pillows of her grandma's bed, and the old woman, in a white ruffled dressing-gown, sat in a rocker at the window, with a long piece of pink knitting in her lap. This room that they shared, like the other rooms of the bungalow, was of light varnished wood and the floor was bare. The furniture was of the shabbiest, the simplest. The dressing-table, for instance, was a packing-case in a sprigged muslin petticoat, and the mirror above was very strange; it was as though a little piece of forked lightning was imprisoned in it. On the table there stood a jar of sea-pinks, pressed so tightly together they looked more like a velvet pincushion, and a special shell which Kezia had given her grandma for a pin-tray, and another even more special which she had thought would make a very nice place for a watch to curl up in. + + "Tell me, grandma," said Kezia. + + The old woman sighed, whipped the wool twice round her thumb, and drew the bone needle through. She was casting on. + + "I was thinking of your Uncle William, darling," she said quietly. + + "My Australian Uncle William?" said Kezia. She had another. + + "Yes, of course." + + "The one I never saw?" + + "That was the one." + + "Well, what happened to him?" Kezia knew perfectly well, but she wanted to be told again. + + "He went to the mines, and he got a sunstroke there and died," said old Mrs. Fairfield. + + Kezia blinked and considered the picture again...a little man fallen over like a tin soldier by the side of a big black hole. + + "Does it make you sad to think about him, grandma?" She hated her grandma to be sad. + + It was the old woman's turn to consider. Did it make her sad? To look back, back. To stare down the years, as Kezia had seen her doing. To look after them as a woman does, long after they were out of sight. Did it make her sad? No, life was like that. + + "No, Kezia." + + "But why?" asked Kezia. She lifted one bare arm and began to draw things in the air. "Why did Uncle William have to die? He wasn't old." + + Mrs. Fairfield began counting the stitches in threes. "It just happened," she said in an absorbed voice. + + "Does everybody have to die?" asked Kezia. + + "Everybody!" + + "Me?" Kezia sounded fearfully incredulous. + + "Some day, my darling." + + "But, grandma." Kezia waved her left leg and waggled the toes. They felt sandy. "What if I just won't?" + + The old woman sighed again and drew a long thread from the ball. + + "We're not asked, Kezia," she said sadly. "It happens to all of us sooner or later." + + Kezia lay still thinking this over. She didn't want to die. It meant she would have to leave here, leave everywhere, for ever, leave--leave her grandma. She rolled over quickly. + + "Grandma," she said in a startled voice. + + "What, my pet!" + + "You're not to die." Kezia was very decided. + + "Ah, Kezia"--her grandma looked up and smiled and shook her head--"don't let's talk about it." + + "But you're not to. You couldn't leave me. You couldn't not be there." This was awful. "Promise me you won't ever do it, grandma," pleaded Kezia. + + The old woman went on knitting. + + "Promise me! Say never!" + + But still her grandma was silent. + + Kezia rolled off her bed; she couldn't bear it any longer, and lightly she leapt on to her grandma's knees, clasped her hands round the old woman's throat and began kissing her, under the chin, behind the ear, and blowing down her neck. + + "Say never...say never...say never--" She gasped between the kisses. And then she began, very softly and lightly, to tickle her grandma. + + "Kezia!" The old woman dropped her knitting. She swung back in the rocker. She began to tickle Kezia. "Say never, say never, say never," gurgled Kezia, while they lay there laughing in each other's arms. "Come, that's enough, my squirrel! That's enough, my wild pony!" said old Mrs. Fairfield, setting her cap straight. "Pick up my knitting." + + Both of them had forgotten what the "never" was about. + + Chapter 1. + + VIII. + + The sun was still full on the garden when the back door of the Burnells' shut with a bang, and a very gay figure walked down the path to the gate. It was Alice, the servant-girl, dressed for her afternoon out. She wore a white cotton dress with such large red spots on it and so many that they made you shudder, white shoes and a leghorn turned up under the brim with poppies. Of course she wore gloves, white ones, stained at the fastenings with iron-mould, and in one hand she carried a very dashed-looking sunshade which she referred to as her "perishall." + + Beryl, sitting in the window, fanning her freshly-washed hair, thought she had never seen such a guy. If Alice had only blacked her face with a piece of cork before she started out, the picture would have been complete. And where did a girl like that go to in a place like this? The heart-shaped Fijian fan beat scornfully at that lovely bright mane. She supposed Alice had picked up some horrible common larrikin and they'd go off into the bush together. Pity to have made herself so conspicuous; they'd have hard work to hide with Alice in that rig-out. + + But no, Beryl was unfair. Alice was going to tea with Mrs Stubbs, who'd sent her an "invite" by the little boy who called for orders. She had taken ever such a liking to Mrs. Stubbs ever since the first time she went to the shop to get something for her mosquitoes. + + "Dear heart!" Mrs. Stubbs had clapped her hand to her side. "I never seen anyone so eaten. You might have been attacked by canningbals." + + Alice did wish there'd been a bit of life on the road though. Made her feel so queer, having nobody behind her. Made her feel all weak in the spine. She couldn't believe that some one wasn't watching her. And yet it was silly to turn round; it gave you away. She pulled up her gloves, hummed to herself and said to the distant gum-tree, "Shan't be long now." But that was hardly company. + + Mrs. Stubbs's shop was perched on a little hillock just off the road. It had two big windows for eyes, a broad veranda for a hat, and the sign on the roof, scrawled MRS. STUBBS'S, was like a little card stuck rakishly in the hat crown. + + On the veranda there hung a long string of bathing-dresses, clinging together as though they'd just been rescued from the sea rather than waiting to go in, and beside them there hung a cluster of sandshoes so extraordinarily mixed that to get at one pair you had to tear apart and forcibly separate at least fifty. Even then it was the rarest thing to find the left that belonged to the right. So many people had lost patience and gone off with one shoe that fitted and one that was a little too big...Mrs. Stubbs prided herself on keeping something of everything. The two windows, arranged in the form of precarious pyramids, were crammed so tight, piled so high, that it seemed only a conjurer could prevent them from toppling over. In the left-hand corner of one window, glued to the pane by four gelatine lozenges, there was--and there had been from time immemorial--a notice. + + LOST! HANSOME GOLE BROOCH SOLID GOLD ON OR NEAR BEACH REWARD OFFERED + + Alice pressed open the door. The bell jangled, the red serge curtains parted, and Mrs. Stubbs appeared. With her broad smile and the long bacon knife in her hand, she looked like a friendly brigand. Alice was welcomed so warmly that she found it quite difficult to keep up her "manners." They consisted of persistent little coughs and hems, pulls at her gloves, tweaks at her skirt, and a curious difficulty in seeing what was set before her or understanding what was said. + + Tea was laid on the parlour table--ham, sardines, a whole pound of butter, and such a large johnny cake that it looked like an advertisement for somebody's baking-powder. But the Primus stove roared so loudly that it was useless to try to talk above it. Alice sat down on the edge of a basket-chair while Mrs. Stubbs pumped the stove still higher. Suddenly Mrs. Stubbs whipped the cushion off a chair and disclosed a large brown- paper parcel. + + "I've just had some new photers taken, my dear," she shouted cheerfully to Alice. "Tell me what you think of them." + + In a very dainty, refined way Alice wet her finger and put the tissue back from the first one. Life! How many there were! There were three dozzing at least. And she held it up to the light. + + Mrs. Stubbs sat in an arm-chair, leaning very much to one side. There was a look of mild astonishment on her large face, and well there might be. For though the arm-chair stood on a carpet, to the left of it, miraculously skirting the carpet-border, there was a dashing water-fall. On her right stood a Grecian pillar with a giant fern-tree on either side of it, and in the background towered a gaunt mountain, pale with snow. + + "It is a nice style, isn't it?" shouted Mrs. Stubbs; and Alice had just screamed "Sweetly" when the roaring of the Primus stove died down, fizzled out, ceased, and she said "Pretty" in a silence that was frightening. + + "Draw up your chair, my dear," said Mrs. Stubbs, beginning to pour out. "Yes," she said thoughtfully, as she handed the tea, "but I don't care about the size. I'm having an enlargemint. All very well for Christmas cards, but I never was the one for small photers myself. You get no comfort out of them. To say the truth, I find them dis'eartening." + + Alice quite saw what she meant. + + "Size," said Mrs. Stubbs. "Give me size. That was what my poor dear husband was always saying. He couldn't stand anything small. Gave him the creeps. And, strange as it may seem, my dear"--here Mrs. Stubbs creaked and seemed to expand herself at the memory--"it was dropsy that carried him off at the larst. Many's the time they drawn one and a half pints from 'im at the 'ospital...It seemed like a judgmint." + + Alice burned to know exactly what it was that was drawn from him. She ventured, "I suppose it was water." + + But Mrs. Stubbs fixed Alice with her eyes and replied meaningly, "It was liquid, my dear." + + Liquid! Alice jumped away from the word like a cat and came back to it, nosing and wary. + + "That's 'im!" said Mrs. Stubbs, and she pointed dramatically to the life- size head and shoulders of a burly man with a dead white rose in the buttonhole of his coat that made you think of a curl of cold mutting fat. Just below, in silver letters on a red cardboard ground, were the words, "Be not afraid, it is I." + + "It's ever such a fine face," said Alice faintly. + + The pale-blue bow on the top of Mrs. Stubbs's fair frizzy hair quivered. She arched her plump neck. What a neck she had! It was bright pink where it began and then it changed to warm apricot, and that faded to the colour of a brown egg and then to a deep creamy. + + "All the same, my dear," she said surprisingly, "freedom's best!" Her soft, fat chuckle sounded like a purr. "Freedom's best," said Mrs. Stubbs again. + + Freedom! Alice gave a loud, silly little titter. She felt awkward. Her mind flew back to her own kitching. Ever so queer! She wanted to be back in it again. + + Chapter 1. + + IX. + + A strange company assembled in the Burnells' washhouse after tea. Round the table there sat a bull, a rooster, a donkey that kept forgetting it was a donkey, a sheep and a bee. The washhouse was the perfect place for such a meeting because they could make as much noise as they liked, and nobody ever interrupted. It was a small tin shed standing apart from the bungalow. Against the wall there was a deep trough and in the corner a copper with a basket of clothes-pegs on top of it. The little window, spun over with cobwebs, had a piece of candle and a mouse-trap on the dusty sill. There were clotheslines criss-crossed overhead and, hanging from a peg on the wall, a very big, a huge, rusty horseshoe. The table was in the middle with a form at either side. + + "You can't be a bee, Kezia. A bee's not an animal. It's a ninseck." + + "Oh, but I do want to be a bee frightfully," wailed Kezia...A tiny bee, all yellow-furry, with striped legs. She drew her legs up under her and leaned over the table. She felt she was a bee. + + "A ninseck must be an animal," she said stoutly. "It makes a noise. It's not like a fish." + + "I'm a bull, I'm a bull!" cried Pip. And he gave such a tremendous bellow- -how did he make that noise?--that Lottie looked quite alarmed. + + "I'll be a sheep," said little Rags. "A whole lot of sheep went past this morning." + + "How do you know?" + + "Dad heard them. Baa!" He sounded like the little lamb that trots behind and seems to wait to be carried. + + "Cock-a-doodle-do!" shrilled Isabel. With her red cheeks and bright eyes she looked like a rooster. + + "What'll I be?" Lottie asked everybody, and she sat there smiling, waiting for them to decide for her. It had to be an easy one. + + "Be a donkey, Lottie." It was Kezia's suggestion. "Hee-haw! You can't forget that." + + "Hee-haw!" said Lottie solemnly. "When do I have to say it?" + + "I'll explain, I'll explain," said the bull. It was he who had the cards. He waved them round his head. "All be quiet! All listen!" And he waited for them. "Look here, Lottie." He turned up a card. "It's got two spots on it--see? Now, if you put that card in the middle and somebody else has one with two spots as well, you say 'Hee-haw,' and the card's yours." + + "Mine?" Lottie was round-eyed. "To keep?" + + "No, silly. Just for the game, see? Just while we're playing." The bull was very cross with her. + + "Oh, Lottie, you are a little silly," said the proud rooster. + + Lottie looked at both of them. Then she hung her head; her lip quivered. "I don't want to play," she whispered. The others glanced at one another like conspirators. All of them knew what that meant. She would go away and be discovered somewhere standing with her pinny thrown over her head, in a corner, or against a wall, or even behind a chair. + + "Yes, you do, Lottie. It's quite easy," said Kezia. + + And Isabel, repentant, said exactly like a grown-up, "Watch me, Lottie, and you'll soon learn." + + "Cheer up, Lot," said Pip. "There, I know what I'll do. I'll give you the first one. It's mine, really, but I'll give it to you. Here you are." And he slammed the card down in front of Lottie. + + Lottie revived at that. But now she was in another difficulty. "I haven't got a hanky," she said; "I want one badly, too." + + "Here, Lottie, you can use mine." Rags dipped into his sailor blouse and brought up a very wet-looking one, knotted together. "Be very careful," he warned her. "Only use that corner. Don't undo it. I've got a little starfish inside I'm going to try and tame." + + "Oh, come on, you girls," said the bull. "And mind--you're not to look at your cards. You've got to keep your hands under the table till I say 'Go.'" + + Smack went the cards round the table. They tried with all their might to see, but Pip was too quick for them. It was very exciting, sitting there in the washhouse; it was all they could do not to burst into a little chorus of animals before Pip had finished dealing. + + "Now, Lottie, you begin." + + Timidly Lottie stretched out a hand, took the top card off her pack, had a good look at it--it was plain she was counting the spots--and put it down. + + "No, Lottie, you can't do that. You mustn't look first. You must turn it the other way over." + + "But then everybody will see it the same time as me," said Lottie. + + The game proceeded. Mooe-ooo-er! The bull was terrible. He charged over the table and seemed to eat the cards up. + + Bss-ss! said the bee. + + Cock-a-doodle-do! Isabel stood up in her excitement and moved her elbows like wings. + + Baa! Little Rags put down the King of Diamonds and Lottie put down the one they called the King of Spain. She had hardly any cards left. + + "Why don't you call out, Lottie?" + + "I've forgotten what I am," said the donkey woefully. + + "Well, change! Be a dog instead! Bow-wow!" + + "Oh yes. That's much easier." Lottie smiled again. But when she and Kezia both had a one Kezia waited on purpose. The others made signs to Lottie and pointed. Lottie turned very red; she looked bewildered, and at last she said, "Hee-haw! Ke-zia." + + "Ss! Wait a minute!" They were in the very thick of it when the bull stopped them, holding up his hand. "What's that? What's that noise?" + + "What noise? What do you mean?" asked the rooster. + + "Ss! Shut up! Listen!" They were mouse-still. "I thought I heard a--a sort of knocking," said the bull. + + "What was it like?" asked the sheep faintly. + + No answer. + + The bee gave a shudder. "Whatever did we shut the door for?" she said softly. Oh, why, why had they shut the door? + + While they were playing, the day had faded; the gorgeous sunset had blazed and died. And now the quick dark came racing over the sea, over the sand- hills, up the paddock. You were frightened to look in the corners of the washhouse, and yet you had to look with all your might. And somewhere, far away, grandma was lighting a lamp. The blinds were being pulled down; the kitchen fire leapt in the tins on the mantelpiece. + + "It would be awful now," said the bull, "if a spider was to fall from the ceiling on to the table, wouldn't it?" + + "Spiders don't fall from ceilings." + + "Yes, they do. Our Min told us she'd seen a spider as big as a saucer, with long hairs on it like a gooseberry." + + Quickly all the little heads were jerked up; all the little bodies drew together, pressed together. + + "Why doesn't somebody come and call us?" cried the rooster. + + Oh, those grown-ups, laughing and snug, sitting in the lamp-light, drinking out of cups! They'd forgotten about them. No, not really forgotten. That was what their smile meant. They had decided to leave them there all by themselves. + + Suddenly Lottie gave such a piercing scream that all of them jumped off the forms, all of them screamed too. "A face--a face looking!" shrieked Lottie. + + It was true, it was real. Pressed against the window was a pale face, black eyes, a black beard. + + "Grandma! Mother! Somebody!" + + But they had not got to the door, tumbling over one another, before it opened for Uncle Jonathan. He had come to take the little boys home. + + Chapter 1. + + X. + + He had meant to be there before, but in the front garden he had come upon Linda walking up and down the grass, stopping to pick off a dead pink or give a top-heavy carnation something to lean against, or to take a deep breath of something, and then walking on again, with her little air of remoteness. Over her white frock she wore a yellow, pink-fringed shawl from the Chinaman's shop. + + "Hallo, Jonathan!" called Linda. And Jonathan whipped off his shabby panama, pressed it against his breast, dropped on one knee, and kissed Linda's hand. + + "Greeting, my Fair One! Greeting, my Celestial Peach Blossom!" boomed the bass voice gently. "Where are the other noble dames?" + + "Beryl's out playing bridge and mother's giving the boy his bath...Have you come to borrow something?" + + The Trouts were for ever running out of things and sending across to the Burnells' at the last moment. + + But Jonathan only answered, "A little love, a little kindness;" and he walked by his sister-in-law's side. + + Linda dropped into Beryl's hammock under the manuka-tree, and Jonathan stretched himself on the grass beside her, pulled a long stalk and began chewing it. They knew each other well. The voices of children cried from the other gardens. A fisherman's light cart shook along the sandy road, and from far away they heard a dog barking; it was muffled as though the dog had its head in a sack. If you listened you could just hear the soft swish of the sea at full tide sweeping the pebbles. The sun was sinking. + + "And so you go back to the office on Monday, do you, Jonathan?" asked Linda. + + "On Monday the cage door opens and clangs to upon the victim for another eleven months and a week," answered Jonathan. + + Linda swung a little. "It must be awful," she said slowly. + + "Would ye have me laugh, my fair sister? Would ye have me weep?" + + Linda was so accustomed to Jonathan's way of talking that she paid no attention to it. + + "I suppose," she said vaguely, "one gets used to it. One gets used to anything." + + "Does one? Hum!" The "Hum" was so deep it seemed to boom from underneath the ground. "I wonder how it's done," brooded Jonathan; "I've never managed it." + + Looking at him as he lay there, Linda thought again how attractive he was. It was strange to think that he was only an ordinary clerk, that Stanley earned twice as much money as he. What was the matter with Jonathan? He had no ambition; she supposed that was it. And yet one felt he was gifted, exceptional. He was passionately fond of music; every spare penny he had went on books. He was always full of new ideas, schemes, plans. But nothing came of it all. The new fire blazed in Jonathan; you almost heard it roaring softly as he explained, described and dilated on the new thing; but a moment later it had fallen in and there was nothing but ashes, and Jonathan went about with a look like hunger in his black eyes. At these times he exaggerated his absurd manner of speaking, and he sang in church-- he was the leader of the choir--with such fearful dramatic intensity that the meanest hymn put on an unholy splendour. + + "It seems to me just as imbecile, just as infernal, to have to go to the office on Monday," said Jonathan, "as it always has done and always will do. To spend all the best years of one's life sitting on a stool from nine to five, scratching in somebody's ledger! It's a queer use to make of one's...one and only life, isn't it? Or do I fondly dream?" He rolled over on the grass and looked up at Linda. "Tell me, what is the difference between my life and that of an ordinary prisoner. The only difference I can see is that I put myself in jail and nobody's ever going to let me out. That's a more intolerable situation than the other. For if I'd been-- pushed in, against my will--kicking, even--once the door was locked, or at any rate in five years or so, I might have accepted the fact and begun to take an interest in the flight of flies or counting the warder's steps along the passage with particular attention to variations of tread and so on. But as it is, I'm like an insect that's flown into a room of its own accord. I dash against the walls, dash against the windows, flop against the ceiling, do everything on God's earth, in fact, except fly out again. And all the while I'm thinking, like that moth, or that butterfly, or whatever it is, 'The shortness of life! The shortness of life!' I've only one night or one day, and there's this vast dangerous garden, waiting out there, undiscovered, unexplored." + + "But, if you feel like that, why--" began Linda quickly. + + "Ah!" cried Jonathan. And that "ah!" was somehow almost exultant. "There you have me. Why? Why indeed? There's the maddening, mysterious question. Why don't I fly out again? There's the window or the door or whatever it was I came in by. It's not hopelessly shut--is it? Why don't I find it and be off? Answer me that, little sister." But he gave her no time to answer. + + "I'm exactly like that insect again. For some reason"--Jonathan paused between the words--"it's not allowed, it's forbidden, it's against the insect law, to stop banging and flopping and crawling up the pane even for an instant. Why don't I leave the office? Why don't I seriously consider, this moment, for instance, what it is that prevents me leaving? It's not as though I'm tremendously tied. I've two boys to provide for, but, after all, they're boys. I could cut off to sea, or get a job up-country, or--" Suddenly he smiled at Linda and said in a changed voice, as if he were confiding a secret, "Weak...weak. No stamina. No anchor. No guiding principle, let us call it." But then the dark velvety voice rolled out:" + + "Would ye hear the story How it unfolds itself..." + + and they were silent. + + The sun had set. In the western sky there were great masses of crushed-up rose-coloured clouds. Broad beams of light shone through the clouds and beyond them as if they would cover the whole sky. Overhead the blue faded; it turned a pale gold, and the bush outlined against it gleamed dark and brilliant like metal. Sometimes when those beams of light show in the sky they are very awful. They remind you that up there sits Jehovah, the jealous God, the Almighty, Whose eye is upon you, ever watchful, never weary. You remember that at His coming the whole earth will shake into one ruined graveyard; the cold, bright angels will drive you this way and that, and there will be no time to explain what could be explained so simply...But to-night it seemed to Linda there was something infinitely joyful and loving in those silver beams. And now no sound came from the sea. It breathed softly as if it would draw that tender, joyful beauty into its own bosom. + + "It's all wrong, it's all wrong," came the shadowy voice of Jonathan. "It's not the scene, it's not the setting for...three stools, three desks, three inkpots and a wire blind." + + Linda knew that he would never change, but she said, "Is it too late, even now?" + + "I'm old--I'm old," intoned Jonathan. He bent towards her, he passed his hand over his head. "Look!" His black hair was speckled all over with silver, like the breast plumage of a black fowl. + + Linda was surprised. She had no idea that he was grey. And yet, as he stood up beside her and sighed and stretched, she saw him, for the first time, not resolute, not gallant, not careless, but touched already with age. He looked very tall on the darkening grass, and the thought crossed her mind, "He is like a weed." + + Jonathan stooped again and kissed her fingers. + + "Heaven reward thy sweet patience, lady mine," he murmured. "I must go seek those heirs to my fame and fortune..." He was gone. + + Chapter 1. + + XI. + + Light shone in the windows of the bungalow. Two square patches of gold fell upon the pinks and the peaked marigolds. Florrie, the cat, came out on to the veranda, and sat on the top step, her white paws close together, her tail curled round. She looked content, as though she had been waiting for this moment all day. + + "Thank goodness, it's getting late," said Florrie. "Thank goodness, the long day is over." Her greengage eyes opened. + + Presently there sounded the rumble of the coach, the crack of Kelly's whip. It came near enough for one to hear the voices of the men from town, talking loudly together. It stopped at the Burnells' gate. + + Stanley was half-way up the path before he saw Linda. "Is that you, darling?" + + "Yes, Stanley." + + He leapt across the flower-bed and seized her in his arms. She was enfolded in that familiar, eager, strong embrace. + + "Forgive me, darling, forgive me," stammered Stanley, and he put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to him. + + "Forgive you?" smiled Linda. "But whatever for?" + + "Good God! You can't have forgotten," cried Stanley Burnell. "I've thought of nothing else all day. I've had the hell of a day. I made up my mind to dash out and telegraph, and then I thought the wire mightn't reach you before I did. I've been in tortures, Linda." + + "But, Stanley," said Linda, "what must I forgive you for?" + + "Linda!"--Stanley was very hurt--"didn't you realize--you must have realized--I went away without saying good-bye to you this morning? I can't imagine how I can have done such a thing. My confounded temper, of course. But--well"--and he sighed and took her in his arms again--"I've suffered for it enough to-day." + + "What's that you've got in your hand?" asked Linda. "New gloves? Let me see." + + "Oh, just a cheap pair of wash-leather ones," said Stanley humbly. "I noticed Bell was wearing some in the coach this morning, so, as I was passing the shop, I dashed in and got myself a pair. What are you smiling at? You don't think it was wrong of me, do you?" + + "On the con-trary, darling," said Linda, "I think it was most sensible." + + She pulled one of the large, pale gloves on her own fingers and looked at her hand, turning it this way and that. She was still smiling. + + Stanley wanted to say, "I was thinking of you the whole time I bought them." It was true, but for some reason he couldn't say it. "Let's go in," said he. + + Chapter 1. + + XII. + + Why does one feel so different at night? Why is it so exciting to be awake when everybody else is asleep? Late--it is very late! And yet every moment you feel more and more wakeful, as though you were slowly, almost with every breath, waking up into a new, wonderful, far more thrilling and exciting world than the daylight one. And what is this queer sensation that you're a conspirator? Lightly, stealthily you move about your room. You take something off the dressing-table and put it down again without a sound. And everything, even the bed-post, knows you, responds, shares your secret... + + You're not very fond of your room by day. You never think about it. You're in and out, the door opens and slams, the cupboard creaks. You sit down on the side of your bed, change your shoes and dash out again. A dive down to the glass, two pins in your hair, powder your nose and off again. But now--it's suddenly dear to you. It's a darling little funny room. It's yours. Oh, what a joy it is to own things! Mine--my own! + + "My very own for ever?" + + "Yes." Their lips met. + + No, of course, that had nothing to do with it. That was all nonsense and rubbish. But, in spite of herself, Beryl saw so plainly two people standing in the middle of her room. Her arms were round his neck; he held her. And now he whispered, "My beauty, my little beauty!" She jumped off her bed, ran over to the window and kneeled on the window-seat, with her elbows on the sill. But the beautiful night, the garden, every bush, every leaf, even the white palings, even the stars, were conspirators too. So bright was the moon that the flowers were bright as by day; the shadow of the nasturtiums, exquisite lily-like leaves and wide-open flowers, lay across the silvery veranda. The manuka-tree, bent by the southerly winds, was like a bird on one leg stretching out a wing. + + But when Beryl looked at the bush, it seemed to her the bush was sad. + + "We are dumb trees, reaching up in the night, imploring we know not what," said the sorrowful bush. + + It is true when you are by yourself and you think about life, it is always sad. All that excitement and so on has a way of suddenly leaving you, and it's as though, in the silence, somebody called your name, and you heard your name for the first time. "Beryl!" + + "Yes, I'm here. I'm Beryl. Who wants me?" + + "Beryl!" + + "Let me come." + + It is lonely living by oneself. Of course, there are relations, friends, heaps of them; but that's not what she means. She wants some one who will find the Beryl they none of them know, who will expect her to be that Beryl always. She wants a lover. + + "Take me away from all these other people, my love. Let us go far away. Let us live our life, all new, all ours, from the very beginning. Let us make our fire. Let us sit down to eat together. Let us have long talks at night." + + And the thought was almost, "Save me, my love. Save me!" + + ..."Oh, go on! Don't be a prude, my dear. You enjoy yourself while you're young. That's my advice." And a high rush of silly laughter joined Mrs. Harry Kember's loud, indifferent neigh. + + You see, it's so frightfully difficult when you've nobody. You're so at the mercy of things. You can't just be rude. And you've always this horror of seeming inexperienced and stuffy like the other ninnies at the Bay. And--and it's fascinating to know you've power over people. Yes, that is fascinating... + + Oh why, oh why doesn't "he" come soon? + + If I go on living here, thought Beryl, anything may happen to me. + + "But how do you know he is coming at all?" mocked a small voice within her. + + But Beryl dismissed it. She couldn't be left. Other people, perhaps, but not she. It wasn't possible to think that Beryl Fairfield never married, that lovely fascinating girl. + + "Do you remember Beryl Fairfield?" + + "Remember her! As if I could forget her! It was one summer at the Bay that I saw her. She was standing on the beach in a blue"--no, pink-- "muslin frock, holding on a big cream"--no, black--"straw hat. But it's years ago now." + + "She's as lovely as ever, more so if anything." + + Beryl smiled, bit her lip, and gazed over the garden. As she gazed, she saw somebody, a man, leave the road, step along the paddock beside their palings as if he was coming straight towards her. Her heart beat. Who was it? Who could it be? It couldn't be a burglar, certainly not a burglar, for he was smoking and he strolled lightly. Beryl's heart leapt; it seemed to turn right over, and then to stop. She recognized him. + + "Good evening, Miss Beryl," said the voice softly. + + "Good evening." + + "Won't you come for a little walk?" it drawled. + + Come for a walk--at that time of night! "I couldn't. Everybody's in bed. Everybody's asleep." + + "Oh," said the voice lightly, and a whiff of sweet smoke reached her. "What does everybody matter? Do come! It's such a fine night. There's not a soul about." + + Beryl shook her head. But already something stirred in her, something reared its head. + + The voice said, "Frightened?" It mocked, "Poor little girl!" + + "Not in the least," said she. As she spoke that weak thing within her seemed to uncoil, to grow suddenly tremendously strong; she longed to go! + + And just as if this was quite understood by the other, the voice said, gently and softly, but finally, "Come along!" + + Beryl stepped over her low window, crossed the veranda, ran down the grass to the gate. He was there before her. + + "That's right," breathed the voice, and it teased, "You're not frightened, are you? You're not frightened?" + + She was; now she was here she was terrified, and it seemed to her everything was different. The moonlight stared and glittered; the shadows were like bars of iron. Her hand was taken. + + "Not in the least," she said lightly. "Why should I be?" + + Her hand was pulled gently, tugged. She held back. + + "No, I'm not coming any farther," said Beryl. + + "Oh, rot!" Harry Kember didn't believe her. "Come along! We'll just go as far as that fuchsia bush. Come along!" + + The fuchsia bush was tall. It fell over the fence in a shower. There was a little pit of darkness beneath. + + "No, really, I don't want to," said Beryl. + + For a moment Harry Kember didn't answer. Then he came close to her, turned to her, smiled and said quickly, "Don't be silly! Don't be silly!" + + His smile was something she'd never seen before. Was he drunk? That bright, blind, terrifying smile froze her with horror. What was she doing? How had she got here? the stern garden asked her as the gate pushed open, and quick as a cat Harry Kember came through and snatched her to him. + + "Cold little devil! Cold little devil!" said the hateful voice. + + But Beryl was strong. She slipped, ducked, wrenched free. + + "You are vile, vile," said she. + + "Then why in God's name did you come?" stammered Harry Kember. + + Nobody answered him. + + Chapter 1. + + XIII. + + A cloud, small, serene, floated across the moon. In that moment of darkness the sea sounded deep, troubled. Then the cloud sailed away, and the sound of the sea was a vague murmur, as though it waked out of a dark dream. All was still. + + + + 2. THE GARDEN PARTY. + + And after all the weather was ideal. They could not have had a more perfect day for a garden-party if they had ordered it. Windless, warm, the sky without a cloud. Only the blue was veiled with a haze of light gold, as it is sometimes in early summer. The gardener had been up since dawn, mowing the lawns and sweeping them, until the grass and the dark flat rosettes where the daisy plants had been seemed to shine. As for the roses, you could not help feeling they understood that roses are the only flowers that impress people at garden-parties; the only flowers that everybody is certain of knowing. Hundreds, yes, literally hundreds, had come out in a single night; the green bushes bowed down as though they had been visited by archangels. + + Breakfast was not yet over before the men came to put up the marquee. + + "Where do you want the marquee put, mother?" + + "My dear child, it's no use asking me. I'm determined to leave everything to you children this year. Forget I am your mother. Treat me as an honoured guest." + + But Meg could not possibly go and supervise the men. She had washed her hair before breakfast, and she sat drinking her coffee in a green turban, with a dark wet curl stamped on each cheek. Jose, the butterfly, always came down in a silk petticoat and a kimono jacket. + + "You'll have to go, Laura; you're the artistic one." + + Away Laura flew, still holding her piece of bread-and-butter. It's so delicious to have an excuse for eating out of doors, and besides, she loved having to arrange things; she always felt she could do it so much better than anybody else. + + Four men in their shirt-sleeves stood grouped together on the garden path. They carried staves covered with rolls of canvas, and they had big tool- bags slung on their backs. They looked impressive. Laura wished now that she had not got the bread-and-butter, but there was nowhere to put it, and she couldn't possibly throw it away. She blushed and tried to look severe and even a little bit short-sighted as she came up to them. + + "Good morning," she said, copying her mother's voice. But that sounded so fearfully affected that she was ashamed, and stammered like a little girl, "Oh--er--have you come--is it about the marquee?" + + "That's right, miss," said the tallest of the men, a lanky, freckled fellow, and he shifted his tool-bag, knocked back his straw hat and smiled down at her. "That's about it." + + His smile was so easy, so friendly that Laura recovered. What nice eyes he had, small, but such a dark blue! And now she looked at the others, they were smiling too. "Cheer up, we won't bite," their smile seemed to say. How very nice workmen were! And what a beautiful morning! She mustn't mention the morning; she must be business-like. The marquee. + + "Well, what about the lily-lawn? Would that do?" + + And she pointed to the lily-lawn with the hand that didn't hold the bread- and-butter. They turned, they stared in the direction. A little fat chap thrust out his under-lip, and the tall fellow frowned. + + "I don't fancy it," said he. "Not conspicuous enough. You see, with a thing like a marquee," and he turned to Laura in his easy way, "you want to put it somewhere where it'll give you a bang slap in the eye, if you follow me." + + Laura's upbringing made her wonder for a moment whether it was quite respectful of a workman to talk to her of bangs slap in the eye. But she did quite follow him. + + "A corner of the tennis-court," she suggested. "But the band's going to be in one corner." + + "H'm, going to have a band, are you?" said another of the workmen. He was pale. He had a haggard look as his dark eyes scanned the tennis-court. What was he thinking? + + "Only a very small band," said Laura gently. Perhaps he wouldn't mind so much if the band was quite small. But the tall fellow interrupted. + + "Look here, miss, that's the place. Against those trees. Over there. That'll do fine." + + Against the karakas. Then the karaka-trees would be hidden. And they were so lovely, with their broad, gleaming leaves, and their clusters of yellow fruit. They were like trees you imagined growing on a desert island, proud, solitary, lifting their leaves and fruits to the sun in a kind of silent splendour. Must they be hidden by a marquee? + + They must. Already the men had shouldered their staves and were making for the place. Only the tall fellow was left. He bent down, pinched a sprig of lavender, put his thumb and forefinger to his nose and snuffed up the smell. When Laura saw that gesture she forgot all about the karakas in her wonder at him caring for things like that--caring for the smell of lavender. How many men that she knew would have done such a thing? Oh, how extraordinarily nice workmen were, she thought. Why couldn't she have workmen for her friends rather than the silly boys she danced with and who came to Sunday night supper? She would get on much better with men like these. + + It's all the fault, she decided, as the tall fellow drew something on the back of an envelope, something that was to be looped up or left to hang, of these absurd class distinctions. Well, for her part, she didn't feel them. Not a bit, not an atom...And now there came the chock-chock of wooden hammers. Some one whistled, some one sang out, "Are you right there, matey?" "Matey!" The friendliness of it, the--the--Just to prove how happy she was, just to show the tall fellow how at home she felt, and how she despised stupid conventions, Laura took a big bite of her bread-and- butter as she stared at the little drawing. She felt just like a work- girl. + + "Laura, Laura, where are you? Telephone, Laura!" a voice cried from the house. + + "Coming!" Away she skimmed, over the lawn, up the path, up the steps, across the veranda, and into the porch. In the hall her father and Laurie were brushing their hats ready to go to the office. + + "I say, Laura," said Laurie very fast, "you might just give a squiz at my coat before this afternoon. See if it wants pressing." + + "I will," said she. Suddenly she couldn't stop herself. She ran at Laurie and gave him a small, quick squeeze. "Oh, I do love parties, don't you?" gasped Laura. + + "Ra-ther," said Laurie's warm, boyish voice, and he squeezed his sister too, and gave her a gentle push. "Dash off to the telephone, old girl." + + The telephone. "Yes, yes; oh yes. Kitty? Good morning, dear. Come to lunch? Do, dear. Delighted of course. It will only be a very scratch meal--just the sandwich crusts and broken meringue-shells and what's left over. Yes, isn't it a perfect morning? Your white? Oh, I certainly should. One moment--hold the line. Mother's calling." And Laura sat back. "What, mother? Can't hear." + + Mrs. Sheridan's voice floated down the stairs. "Tell her to wear that sweet hat she had on last Sunday." + + "Mother says you're to wear that sweet hat you had on last Sunday. Good. One o'clock. Bye-bye." + + Laura put back the receiver, flung her arms over her head, took a deep breath, stretched and let them fall. "Huh," she sighed, and the moment after the sigh she sat up quickly. She was still, listening. All the doors in the house seemed to be open. The house was alive with soft, quick steps and running voices. The green baize door that led to the kitchen regions swung open and shut with a muffled thud. And now there came a long, chuckling absurd sound. It was the heavy piano being moved on its stiff castors. But the air! If you stopped to notice, was the air always like this? Little faint winds were playing chase, in at the tops of the windows, out at the doors. And there were two tiny spots of sun, one on the inkpot, one on a silver photograph frame, playing too. Darling little spots. Especially the one on the inkpot lid. It was quite warm. A warm little silver star. She could have kissed it. + + The front door bell pealed, and there sounded the rustle of Sadie's print skirt on the stairs. A man's voice murmured; Sadie answered, careless, "I'm sure I don't know. Wait. I'll ask Mrs Sheridan." + + "What is it, Sadie?" Laura came into the hall. + + "It's the florist, Miss Laura." + + It was, indeed. There, just inside the door, stood a wide, shallow tray full of pots of pink lilies. No other kind. Nothing but lilies--canna lilies, big pink flowers, wide open, radiant, almost frighteningly alive on bright crimson stems. + + "O-oh, Sadie!" said Laura, and the sound was like a little moan. She crouched down as if to warm herself at that blaze of lilies; she felt they were in her fingers, on her lips, growing in her breast. + + "It's some mistake," she said faintly. "Nobody ever ordered so many. Sadie, go and find mother." + + But at that moment Mrs. Sheridan joined them. + + "It's quite right," she said calmly. "Yes, I ordered them. Aren't they lovely?" She pressed Laura's arm. "I was passing the shop yesterday, and I saw them in the window. And I suddenly thought for once in my life I shall have enough canna lilies. The garden-party will be a good excuse." + + "But I thought you said you didn't mean to interfere," said Laura. Sadie had gone. The florist's man was still outside at his van. She put her arm round her mother's neck and gently, very gently, she bit her mother's ear. + + "My darling child, you wouldn't like a logical mother, would you? Don't do that. Here's the man." + + He carried more lilies still, another whole tray. + + "Bank them up, just inside the door, on both sides of the porch, please," said Mrs. Sheridan. "Don't you agree, Laura?" + + "Oh, I do, mother." + + In the drawing-room Meg, Jose and good little Hans had at last succeeded in moving the piano. + + "Now, if we put this chesterfield against the wall and move everything out of the room except the chairs, don't you think?" + + "Quite." + + "Hans, move these tables into the smoking-room, and bring a sweeper to take these marks off the carpet and--one moment, Hans--" Jose loved giving orders to the servants, and they loved obeying her. She always made them feel they were taking part in some drama. "Tell mother and Miss Laura to come here at once. + + "Very good, Miss Jose." + + She turned to Meg. "I want to hear what the piano sounds like, just in case I'm asked to sing this afternoon. Let's try over 'This life is Weary.'" + + Pom! Ta-ta-ta Tee-ta! The piano burst out so passionately that Jose's face changed. She clasped her hands. She looked mournfully and enigmatically at her mother and Laura as they came in. + + "This Life is Wee-ary, A Tear--a Sigh. A Love that Chan-ges, This Life is Wee-ary, A Tear--a Sigh. A Love that Chan-ges, And then ...Good-bye!" + + But at the word "Good-bye," and although the piano sounded more desperate than ever, her face broke into a brilliant, dreadfully unsympathetic smile. + + "Aren't I in good voice, mummy?" she beamed. + + "This Life is Wee-ary, Hope comes to Die. A Dream--a Wa-kening." + + But now Sadie interrupted them. "What is it, Sadie?" + + "If you please, m'm, cook says have you got the flags for the sandwiches?" + + "The flags for the sandwiches, Sadie?" echoed Mrs. Sheridan dreamily. And the children knew by her face that she hadn't got them. "Let me see." And she said to Sadie firmly, "Tell cook I'll let her have them in ten minutes. + + Sadie went. + + "Now, Laura," said her mother quickly, "come with me into the smoking-room. I've got the names somewhere on the back of an envelope. You'll have to write them out for me. Meg, go upstairs this minute and take that wet thing off your head. Jose, run and finish dressing this instant. Do you hear me, children, or shall I have to tell your father when he comes home to-night? And--and, Jose, pacify cook if you do go into the kitchen, will you? I'm terrified of her this morning." + + The envelope was found at last behind the dining-room clock, though how it had got there Mrs. Sheridan could not imagine. + + "One of you children must have stolen it out of my bag, because I remember vividly--cream cheese and lemon-curd. Have you done that?" + + "Yes." + + "Egg and--" Mrs. Sheridan held the envelope away from her. "It looks like mice. It can't be mice, can it?" + + "Olive, pet," said Laura, looking over her shoulder. + + "Yes, of course, olive. What a horrible combination it sounds. Egg and olive." + + They were finished at last, and Laura took them off to the kitchen. She found Jose there pacifying the cook, who did not look at all terrifying. + + "I have never seen such exquisite sandwiches," said Jose's rapturous voice. "How many kinds did you say there were, cook? Fifteen?" + + "Fifteen, Miss Jose." + + "Well, cook, I congratulate you." + + Cook swept up crusts with the long sandwich knife, and smiled broadly. + + "Godber's has come," announced Sadie, issuing out of the pantry. She had seen the man pass the window. + + That meant the cream puffs had come. Godber's were famous for their cream puffs. Nobody ever thought of making them at home. + + "Bring them in and put them on the table, my girl," ordered cook. + + Sadie brought them in and went back to the door. Of course Laura and Jose were far too grown-up to really care about such things. All the same, they couldn't help agreeing that the puffs looked very attractive. Very. Cook began arranging them, shaking off the extra icing sugar. + + "Don't they carry one back to all one's parties?" said Laura. + + "I suppose they do," said practical Jose, who never liked to be carried back. "They look beautifully light and feathery, I must say." + + "Have one each, my dears," said cook in her comfortable voice. "Yer ma won't know." + + Oh, impossible. Fancy cream puffs so soon after breakfast. The very idea made one shudder. All the same, two minutes later Jose and Laura were licking their fingers with that absorbed inward look that only comes from whipped cream. + + "Let's go into the garden, out by the back way," suggested Laura. "I want to see how the men are getting on with the marquee. They're such awfully nice men." + + But the back door was blocked by cook, Sadie, Godber's man and Hans. + + Something had happened. + + "Tuk-tuk-tuk," clucked cook like an agitated hen. Sadie had her hand clapped to her cheek as though she had toothache. Hans's face was screwed up in the effort to understand. Only Godber's man seemed to be enjoying himself; it was his story. + + "What's the matter? What's happened?" + + "There's been a horrible accident," said Cook. "A man killed." + + "A man killed! Where? How? When?" + + But Godber's man wasn't going to have his story snatched from under his very nose. + + "Know those little cottages just below here, miss?" Know them? Of course, she knew them. "Well, there's a young chap living there, name of Scott, a carter. His horse shied at a traction-engine, corner of Hawke Street this morning, and he was thrown out on the back of his head. Killed." + + "Dead!" Laura stared at Godber's man. + + "Dead when they picked him up," said Godber's man with relish. "They were taking the body home as I come up here." And he said to the cook, "He's left a wife and five little ones." + + "Jose, come here." Laura caught hold of her sister's sleeve and dragged her through the kitchen to the other side of the green baize door. There she paused and leaned against it. "Jose!" she said, horrified, "however are we going to stop everything?" + + "Stop everything, Laura!" cried Jose in astonishment. "What do you mean?" + + "Stop the garden-party, of course." Why did Jose pretend? + + But Jose was still more amazed. "Stop the garden-party? My dear Laura, don't be so absurd. Of course we can't do anything of the kind. Nobody expects us to. Don't be so extravagant." + + "But we can't possibly have a garden-party with a man dead just outside the front gate." + + That really was extravagant, for the little cottages were in a lane to themselves at the very bottom of a steep rise that led up to the house. A broad road ran between. True, they were far too near. They were the greatest possible eyesore, and they had no right to be in that neighbourhood at all. They were little mean dwellings painted a chocolate brown. In the garden patches there was nothing but cabbage stalks, sick hens and tomato cans. The very smoke coming out of their chimneys was poverty-stricken. Little rags and shreds of smoke, so unlike the great silvery plumes that uncurled from the Sheridans' chimneys. Washerwomen lived in the lane and sweeps and a cobbler, and a man whose house-front was studded all over with minute bird-cages. Children swarmed. When the Sheridans were little they were forbidden to set foot there because of the revolting language and of what they might catch. But since they were grown up, Laura and Laurie on their prowls sometimes walked through. It was disgusting and sordid. They came out with a shudder. But still one must go everywhere; one must see everything. So through they went. + + "And just think of what the band would sound like to that poor woman," said Laura. + + "Oh, Laura!" Jose began to be seriously annoyed. "If you're going to stop a band playing every time some one has an accident, you'll lead a very strenuous life. I'm every bit as sorry about it as you. I feel just as sympathetic." Her eyes hardened. She looked at her sister just as she used to when they were little and fighting together. "You won't bring a drunken workman back to life by being sentimental," she said softly. + + "Drunk! Who said he was drunk?" Laura turned furiously on Jose. She said, just as they had used to say on those occasions, "I'm going straight up to tell mother." + + "Do, dear," cooed Jose. + + "Mother, can I come into your room?" Laura turned the big glass door-knob. + + "Of course, child. Why, what's the matter? What's given you such a colour?" And Mrs. Sheridan turned round from her dressing-table. She was trying on a new hat. + + "Mother, a man's been killed," began Laura. + + "Not in the garden?" interrupted her mother. + + "No, no!" + + "Oh, what a fright you gave me!" Mrs. Sheridan sighed with relief, and took off the big hat and held it on her knees. + + "But listen, mother," said Laura. Breathless, half-choking, she told the dreadful story. "Of course, we can't have our party, can we?" she pleaded. "The band and everybody arriving. They'd hear us, mother; they're nearly neighbours!" + + To Laura's astonishment her mother behaved just like Jose; it was harder to bear because she seemed amused. She refused to take Laura seriously. + + "But, my dear child, use your common sense. It's only by accident we've heard of it. If some one had died there normally--and I can't understand how they keep alive in those poky little holes--we should still be having our party, shouldn't we?" + + Laura had to say "yes" to that, but she felt it was all wrong. She sat down on her mother's sofa and pinched the cushion frill. + + "Mother, isn't it terribly heartless of us?" she asked. + + "Darling!" Mrs. Sheridan got up and came over to her, carrying the hat. Before Laura could stop her she had popped it on. "My child!" said her mother, "the hat is yours. It's made for you. It's much too young for me. I have never seen you look such a picture. Look at yourself!" And she held up her hand-mirror. + + "But, mother," Laura began again. She couldn't look at herself; she turned aside. + + This time Mrs. Sheridan lost patience just as Jose had done. + + "You are being very absurd, Laura," she said coldly. "People like that don't expect sacrifices from us. And it's not very sympathetic to spoil everybody's enjoyment as you're doing now." + + "I don't understand," said Laura, and she walked quickly out of the room into her own bedroom. There, quite by chance, the first thing she saw was this charming girl in the mirror, in her black hat trimmed with gold daisies, and a long black velvet ribbon. Never had she imagined she could look like that. Is mother right? she thought. And now she hoped her mother was right. Am I being extravagant? Perhaps it was extravagant. Just for a moment she had another glimpse of that poor woman and those little children, and the body being carried into the house. But it all seemed blurred, unreal, like a picture in the newspaper. I'll remember it again after the party's over, she decided. And somehow that seemed quite the best plan... + + Lunch was over by half-past one. By half-past two they were all ready for the fray. The green-coated band had arrived and was established in a corner of the tennis-court. + + "My dear!" trilled Kitty Maitland, "aren't they too like frogs for words? You ought to have arranged them round the pond with the conductor in the middle on a leaf." + + Laurie arrived and hailed them on his way to dress. At the sight of him Laura remembered the accident again. She wanted to tell him. If Laurie agreed with the others, then it was bound to be all right. And she followed him into the hall. + + "Laurie!" + + "Hallo!" He was half-way upstairs, but when he turned round and saw Laura he suddenly puffed out his cheeks and goggled his eyes at her. "My word, Laura! You do look stunning," said Laurie. "What an absolutely topping hat!" + + Laura said faintly "Is it?" and smiled up at Laurie, and didn't tell him after all. + + Soon after that people began coming in streams. The band struck up; the hired waiters ran from the house to the marquee. Wherever you looked there were couples strolling, bending to the flowers, greeting, moving on over the lawn. They were like bright birds that had alighted in the Sheridans' garden for this one afternoon, on their way to--where? Ah, what happiness it is to be with people who all are happy, to press hands, press cheeks, smile into eyes. + + "Darling Laura, how well you look!" + + "What a becoming hat, child!" + + "Laura, you look quite Spanish. I've never seen you look so striking." + + And Laura, glowing, answered softly, "Have you had tea? Won't you have an ice? The passion-fruit ices really are rather special." She ran to her father and begged him. "Daddy darling, can't the band have something to drink?" + + And the perfect afternoon slowly ripened, slowly faded, slowly its petals closed. + + "Never a more delightful garden-party ..." "The greatest success ..." "Quite the most ..." + + Laura helped her mother with the good-byes. They stood side by side in the porch till it was all over. + + "All over, all over, thank heaven," said Mrs. Sheridan. "Round up the others, Laura. Let's go and have some fresh coffee. I'm exhausted. Yes, it's been very successful. But oh, these parties, these parties! Why will you children insist on giving parties!" And they all of them sat down in the deserted marquee. + + "Have a sandwich, daddy dear. I wrote the flag." + + "Thanks." Mr. Sheridan took a bite and the sandwich was gone. He took another. "I suppose you didn't hear of a beastly accident that happened to-day?" he said. + + "My dear," said Mrs. Sheridan, holding up her hand, "we did. It nearly ruined the party. Laura insisted we should put it off." + + "Oh, mother!" Laura didn't want to be teased about it. + + "It was a horrible affair all the same," said Mr. Sheridan. "The chap was married too. Lived just below in the lane, and leaves a wife and half a dozen kiddies, so they say." + + An awkward little silence fell. Mrs. Sheridan fidgeted with her cup. Really, it was very tactless of father... + + Suddenly she looked up. There on the table were all those sandwiches, cakes, puffs, all uneaten, all going to be wasted. She had one of her brilliant ideas. + + "I know," she said. "Let's make up a basket. Let's send that poor creature some of this perfectly good food. At any rate, it will be the greatest treat for the children. Don't you agree? And she's sure to have neighbours calling in and so on. What a point to have it all ready prepared. Laura!" She jumped up. "Get me the big basket out of the stairs cupboard." + + "But, mother, do you really think it's a good idea?" said Laura. + + Again, how curious, she seemed to be different from them all. To take scraps from their party. Would the poor woman really like that? + + "Of course! What's the matter with you to-day? An hour or two ago you were insisting on us being sympathetic, and now--" + + Oh well! Laura ran for the basket. It was filled, it was heaped by her mother. + + "Take it yourself, darling," said she. "Run down just as you are. No, wait, take the arum lilies too. People of that class are so impressed by arum lilies." + + "The stems will ruin her lace frock," said practical Jose. + + So they would. Just in time. "Only the basket, then. And, Laura!"--her mother followed her out of the marquee--"don't on any account--" + + "What mother?" + + No, better not put such ideas into the child's head! "Nothing! Run along." + + It was just growing dusky as Laura shut their garden gates. A big dog ran by like a shadow. The road gleamed white, and down below in the hollow the little cottages were in deep shade. How quiet it seemed after the afternoon. Here she was going down the hill to somewhere where a man lay dead, and she couldn't realize it. Why couldn't she? She stopped a minute. And it seemed to her that kisses, voices, tinkling spoons, laughter, the smell of crushed grass were somehow inside her. She had no room for anything else. How strange! She looked up at the pale sky, and all she thought was, "Yes, it was the most successful party." + + Now the broad road was crossed. The lane began, smoky and dark. Women in shawls and men's tweed caps hurried by. Men hung over the palings; the children played in the doorways. A low hum came from the mean little cottages. In some of them there was a flicker of light, and a shadow, crab-like, moved across the window. Laura bent her head and hurried on. She wished now she had put on a coat. How her frock shone! And the big hat with the velvet streamer--if only it was another hat! Were the people looking at her? They must be. It was a mistake to have come; she knew all along it was a mistake. Should she go back even now? + + No, too late. This was the house. It must be. A dark knot of people stood outside. Beside the gate an old, old woman with a crutch sat in a chair, watching. She had her feet on a newspaper. The voices stopped as Laura drew near. The group parted. It was as though she was expected, as though they had known she was coming here. + + Laura was terribly nervous. Tossing the velvet ribbon over her shoulder, she said to a woman standing by, "Is this Mrs. Scott's house?" and the woman, smiling queerly, said, "It is, my lass." + + Oh, to be away from this! She actually said, "Help me, God," as she walked up the tiny path and knocked. To be away from those staring eyes, or to be covered up in anything, one of those women's shawls even. I'll just leave the basket and go, she decided. I shan't even wait for it to be emptied. + + Then the door opened. A little woman in black showed in the gloom. + + Laura said, "Are you Mrs. Scott?" But to her horror the woman answered, "Walk in please, miss," and she was shut in the passage. + + "No," said Laura, "I don't want to come in. I only want to leave this basket. Mother sent--" + + The little woman in the gloomy passage seemed not to have heard her. "Step this way, please, miss," she said in an oily voice, and Laura followed her. + + She found herself in a wretched little low kitchen, lighted by a smoky lamp. There was a woman sitting before the fire. + + "Em," said the little creature who had let her in. "Em! It's a young lady." She turned to Laura. She said meaningly, "I'm 'er sister, miss. You'll excuse 'er, won't you?" + + "Oh, but of course!" said Laura. "Please, please don't disturb her. I--I only want to leave--" + + But at that moment the woman at the fire turned round. Her face, puffed up, red, with swollen eyes and swollen lips, looked terrible. She seemed as though she couldn't understand why Laura was there. What did it mean? Why was this stranger standing in the kitchen with a basket? What was it all about? And the poor face puckered up again. + + "All right, my dear," said the other. "I'll thenk the young lady." + + And again she began, "You'll excuse her, miss, I'm sure," and her face, swollen too, tried an oily smile. + + Laura only wanted to get out, to get away. She was back in the passage. The door opened. She walked straight through into the bedroom, where the dead man was lying. + + "You'd like a look at 'im, wouldn't you?" said Em's sister, and she brushed past Laura over to the bed. "Don't be afraid, my lass,"--and now her voice sounded fond and sly, and fondly she drew down the sheet--"'e looks a picture. There's nothing to show. Come along, my dear." + + Laura came. + + There lay a young man, fast asleep--sleeping so soundly, so deeply, that he was far, far away from them both. Oh, so remote, so peaceful. He was dreaming. Never wake him up again. His head was sunk in the pillow, his eyes were closed; they were blind under the closed eyelids. He was given up to his dream. What did garden-parties and baskets and lace frocks matter to him? He was far from all those things. He was wonderful, beautiful. While they were laughing and while the band was playing, this marvel had come to the lane. Happy...happy...All is well, said that sleeping face. This is just as it should be. I am content. + + But all the same you had to cry, and she couldn't go out of the room without saying something to him. Laura gave a loud childish sob. + + "Forgive my hat," she said. + + And this time she didn't wait for Em's sister. She found her way out of the door, down the path, past all those dark people. At the corner of the lane she met Laurie. + + He stepped out of the shadow. "Is that you, Laura?" + + "Yes." + + "Mother was getting anxious. Was it all right?" + + "Yes, quite. Oh, Laurie!" She took his arm, she pressed up against him. + + "I say, you're not crying, are you?" asked her brother. + + Laura shook her head. She was. + + Laurie put his arm round her shoulder. "Don't cry," he said in his warm, loving voice. "Was it awful?" + + "No," sobbed Laura. "It was simply marvellous. But Laurie--" She stopped, she looked at her brother. "Isn't life," she stammered, "isn't life--" But what life was she couldn't explain. No matter. He quite understood. + + "Isn't it, darling?" said Laurie. + + + + 3. THE DAUGHTERS OF THE LATE COLONEL. + + Chapter 3. + + I. + + The week after was one of the busiest weeks of their lives. Even when they went to bed it was only their bodies that lay down and rested; their minds went on, thinking things out, talking things over, wondering, deciding, trying to remember where... + + Constantia lay like a statue, her hands by her sides, her feet just overlapping each other, the sheet up to her chin. She stared at the ceiling. + + "Do you think father would mind if we gave his top-hat to the porter?" + + "The porter?" snapped Josephine. "Why ever the porter? What a very extraordinary idea!" + + "Because," said Constantia slowly, "he must often have to go to funerals. And I noticed at--at the cemetery that he only had a bowler." She paused. "I thought then how very much he'd appreciate a top-hat. We ought to give him a present, too. He was always very nice to father." + + "But," cried Josephine, flouncing on her pillow and staring across the dark at Constantia, "father's head!" And suddenly, for one awful moment, she nearly giggled. Not, of course, that she felt in the least like giggling. It must have been habit. Years ago, when they had stayed awake at night talking, their beds had simply heaved. And now the porter's head, disappearing, popped out, like a candle, under father's hat...The giggle mounted, mounted; she clenched her hands; she fought it down; she frowned fiercely at the dark and said "Remember" terribly sternly. + + "We can decide to-morrow," she said. + + Constantia had noticed nothing; she sighed. + + "Do you think we ought to have our dressing-gowns dyed as well?" + + "Black?" almost shrieked Josephine. + + "Well, what else?" said Constantia. "I was thinking--it doesn't seem quite sincere, in a way, to wear black out of doors and when we're fully dressed, and then when we're at home--" + + "But nobody sees us," said Josephine. She gave the bedclothes such a twitch that both her feet became uncovered, and she had to creep up the pillows to get them well under again. + + "Kate does," said Constantia. "And the postman very well might." + + Josephine thought of her dark-red slippers, which matched her dressing- gown, and of Constantia's favourite indefinite green ones which went with hers. Black! Two black dressing-gowns and two pairs of black woolly slippers, creeping off to the bathroom like black cats. + + "I don't think it's absolutely necessary," said she. + + Silence. Then Constantia said, "We shall have to post the papers with the notice in them to-morrow to catch the Ceylon mail...How many letters have we had up till now?" + + "Twenty-three." + + Josephine had replied to them all, and twenty-three times when she came to "We miss our dear father so much" she had broken down and had to use her handkerchief, and on some of them even to soak up a very light-blue tear with an edge of blotting-paper. Strange! She couldn't have put it on--but twenty-three times. Even now, though, when she said over to herself sadly "We miss our dear father so much," she could have cried if she'd wanted to. + + "Have you got enough stamps?" came from Constantia. + + "Oh, how can I tell?" said Josephine crossly. "What's the good of asking me that now?" + + "I was just wondering," said Constantia mildly. + + Silence again. There came a little rustle, a scurry, a hop. + + "A mouse," said Constantia. + + "It can't be a mouse because there aren't any crumbs," said Josephine. + + "But it doesn't know there aren't," said Constantia. + + A spasm of pity squeezed her heart. Poor little thing! She wished she'd left a tiny piece of biscuit on the dressing-table. It was awful to think of it not finding anything. What would it do? + + "I can't think how they manage to live at all," she said slowly. + + "Who?" demanded Josephine. + + And Constantia said more loudly than she meant to, "Mice." + + Josephine was furious. "Oh, what nonsense, Con!" she said. "What have mice got to do with it? You're asleep." + + "I don't think I am," said Constantia. She shut her eyes to make sure. She was. + + Josephine arched her spine, pulled up her knees, folded her arms so that her fists came under her ears, and pressed her cheek hard against the pillow. + + Chapter 3. + + II. + + Another thing which complicated matters was they had Nurse Andrews staying on with them that week. It was their own fault; they had asked her. It was Josephine's idea. On the morning--well, on the last morning, when the doctor had gone, Josephine had said to Constantia, "Don't you think it would be rather nice if we asked Nurse Andrews to stay on for a week as our guest?" + + "Very nice," said Constantia. + + "I thought," went on Josephine quickly, "I should just say this afternoon, after I've paid her, 'My sister and I would be very pleased, after all you've done for us, Nurse Andrews, if you would stay on for a week as our guest.' I'd have to put that in about being our guest in case--" + + "Oh, but she could hardly expect to be paid!" cried Constantia. + + "One never knows," said Josephine sagely. + + Nurse Andrews had, of course, jumped at the idea. But it was a bother. It meant they had to have regular sit-down meals at the proper times, whereas if they'd been alone they could just have asked Kate if she wouldn't have minded bringing them a tray wherever they were. And meal-times now that the strain was over were rather a trial. + + Nurse Andrews was simply fearful about butter. Really they couldn't help feeling that about butter, at least, she took advantage of their kindness. And she had that maddening habit of asking for just an inch more of bread to finish what she had on her plate, and then, at the last mouthful, absent-mindedly--of course it wasn't absent-mindedly--taking another helping. Josephine got very red when this happened, and she fastened her small, bead-like eyes on the tablecloth as if she saw a minute strange insect creeping through the web of it. But Constantia's long, pale face lengthened and set, and she gazed away--away--far over the desert, to where that line of camels unwound like a thread of wool... + + "When I was with Lady Tukes," said Nurse Andrews, "she had such a dainty little contrayvance for the buttah. It was a silvah Cupid balanced on the--on the bordah of a glass dish, holding a tayny fork. And when you wanted some buttah you simply pressed his foot and he bent down and speared you a piece. It was quite a gayme." + + Josephine could hardly bear that. But "I think those things are very extravagant" was all she said. + + "But whey?" asked Nurse Andrews, beaming through her eyeglasses. "No one, surely, would take more buttah than one wanted--would one?" + + "Ring, Con," cried Josephine. She couldn't trust herself to reply. + + And proud young Kate, the enchanted princess, came in to see what the old tabbies wanted now. She snatched away their plates of mock something or other and slapped down a white, terrified blancmange. + + "Jam, please, Kate," said Josephine kindly. + + Kate knelt and burst open the sideboard, lifted the lid of the jam-pot, saw it was empty, put it on the table, and stalked off. + + "I'm afraid," said Nurse Andrews a moment later, "there isn't any." + + "Oh, what a bother!" said Josephine. She bit her lip. "What had we better do?" + + Constantia looked dubious. "We can't disturb Kate again," she said softly. + + Nurse Andrews waited, smiling at them both. Her eyes wandered, spying at everything behind her eyeglasses. Constantia in despair went back to her camels. Josephine frowned heavily--concentrated. If it hadn't been for this idiotic woman she and Con would, of course, have eaten their blancmange without. Suddenly the idea came. + + "I know," she said. "Marmalade. There's some marmalade in the sideboard. Get it, Con." + + "I hope," laughed Nurse Andrews--and her laugh was like a spoon tinkling against a medicine-glass--"I hope it's not very bittah marmalayde." + + Chapter 3. + + III. + + But, after all, it was not long now, and then she'd be gone for good. And there was no getting over the fact that she had been very kind to father. She had nursed him day and night at the end. Indeed, both Constantia and Josephine felt privately she had rather overdone the not leaving him at the very last. For when they had gone in to say good-bye Nurse Andrews had sat beside his bed the whole time, holding his wrist and pretending to look at her watch. It couldn't have been necessary. It was so tactless, too. Supposing father had wanted to say something--something private to them. Not that he had. Oh, far from it! He lay there, purple, a dark, angry purple in the face, and never even looked at them when they came in. Then, as they were standing there, wondering what to do, he had suddenly opened one eye. Oh, what a difference it would have made, what a difference to their memory of him, how much easier to tell people about it, if he had only opened both! But no--one eye only. It glared at them a moment and then...went out. + + Chapter 3. + + IV. + + It had made it very awkward for them when Mr. Farolles, of St. John's, called the same afternoon. + + "The end was quite peaceful, I trust?" were the first words he said as he glided towards them through the dark drawing-room. + + "Quite," said Josephine faintly. They both hung their heads. Both of them felt certain that eye wasn't at all a peaceful eye. + + "Won't you sit down?" said Josephine. + + "Thank you, Miss Pinner," said Mr. Farolles gratefully. He folded his coat-tails and began to lower himself into father's arm-chair, but just as he touched it he almost sprang up and slid into the next chair instead. + + He coughed. Josephine clasped her hands; Constantia looked vague. + + "I want you to feel, Miss Pinner," said Mr. Farolles, "and you, Miss Constantia, that I'm trying to be helpful. I want to be helpful to you both, if you will let me. These are the times," said Mr Farolles, very simply and earnestly, "when God means us to be helpful to one another." + + "Thank you very much, Mr. Farolles," said Josephine and Constantia. + + "Not at all," said Mr. Farolles gently. He drew his kid gloves through his fingers and leaned forward. "And if either of you would like a little Communion, either or both of you, here and now, you have only to tell me. A little Communion is often very help--a great comfort," he added tenderly. + + But the idea of a little Communion terrified them. What! In the drawing- room by themselves--with no--no altar or anything! The piano would be much too high, thought Constantia, and Mr. Farolles could not possibly lean over it with the chalice. And Kate would be sure to come bursting in and interrupt them, thought Josephine. And supposing the bell rang in the middle? It might be somebody important--about their mourning. Would they get up reverently and go out, or would they have to wait...in torture? + + "Perhaps you will send round a note by your good Kate if you would care for it later," said Mr. Farolles. + + "Oh yes, thank you very much!" they both said. + + Mr. Farolles got up and took his black straw hat from the round table. + + "And about the funeral," he said softly. "I may arrange that--as your dear father's old friend and yours, Miss Pinner--and Miss Constantia?" + + Josephine and Constantia got up too. + + "I should like it to be quite simple," said Josephine firmly, "and not too expensive. At the same time, I should like--" + + "A good one that will last," thought dreamy Constantia, as if Josephine were buying a nightgown. But, of course, Josephine didn't say that. "One suitable to our father's position." She was very nervous. + + "I'll run round to our good friend Mr. Knight," said Mr. Farolles soothingly. "I will ask him to come and see you. I am sure you will find him very helpful indeed." + + Chapter 3. + + V. + + Well, at any rate, all that part of it was over, though neither of them could possibly believe that father was never coming back. Josephine had had a moment of absolute terror at the cemetery, while the coffin was lowered, to think that she and Constantia had done this thing without asking his permission. What would father say when he found out? For he was bound to find out sooner or later. He always did. "Buried. You two girls had me buried!" She heard his stick thumping. Oh, what would they say? What possible excuse could they make? It sounded such an appallingly heartless thing to do. Such a wicked advantage to take of a person because he happened to be helpless at the moment. The other people seemed to treat it all as a matter of course. They were strangers; they couldn't be expected to understand that father was the very last person for such a thing to happen to. No, the entire blame for it all would fall on her and Constantia. And the expense, she thought, stepping into the tight-buttoned cab. When she had to show him the bills. What would he say then? + + She heard him absolutely roaring. "And do you expect me to pay for this gimcrack excursion of yours?" + + "Oh," groaned poor Josephine aloud, "we shouldn't have done it, Con!" + + And Constantia, pale as a lemon in all that blackness, said in a frightened whisper, "Done what, Jug?" + + "Let them bu-bury father like that," said Josephine, breaking down and crying into her new, queer-smelling mourning handkerchief. + + "But what else could we have done?" asked Constantia wonderingly. "We couldn't have kept him, Jug--we couldn't have kept him unburied. At any rate, not in a flat that size." + + Josephine blew her nose; the cab was dreadfully stuffy. + + "I don't know," she said forlornly. "It is all so dreadful. I feel we ought to have tried to, just for a time at least. To make perfectly sure. One thing's certain"--and her tears sprang out again--"father will never forgive us for this--never!" + + Chapter 3. + + VI. + + Father would never forgive them. That was what they felt more than ever when, two mornings later, they went into his room to go through his things. They had discussed it quite calmly. It was even down on Josephine's list of things to be done. "Go through father's things and settle about them." But that was a very different matter from saying after breakfast: + + "Well, are you ready, Con?" + + "Yes, Jug--when you are." + + "Then I think we'd better get it over." + + It was dark in the hall. It had been a rule for years never to disturb father in the morning, whatever happened. And now they were going to open the door without knocking even...Constantia's eyes were enormous at the idea; Josephine felt weak in the knees. + + "You--you go first," she gasped, pushing Constantia. + + But Constantia said, as she always had said on those occasions, "No, Jug, that's not fair. You're the eldest." + + Josephine was just going to say--what at other times she wouldn't have owned to for the world--what she kept for her very last weapon, "But you're the tallest," when they noticed that the kitchen door was open, and there stood Kate... + + "Very stiff," said Josephine, grasping the doorhandle and doing her best to turn it. As if anything ever deceived Kate! + + It couldn't be helped. That girl was...Then the door was shut behind them, but--but they weren't in father's room at all. They might have suddenly walked through the wall by mistake into a different flat altogether. Was the door just behind them? They were too frightened to look. Josephine knew that if it was it was holding itself tight shut; Constantia felt that, like the doors in dreams, it hadn't any handle at all. It was the coldness which made it so awful. Or the whiteness--which? Everything was covered. The blinds were down, a cloth hung over the mirror, a sheet hid the bed; a huge fan of white paper filled the fireplace. Constantia timidly put out her hand; she almost expected a snowflake to fall. Josephine felt a queer tingling in her nose, as if her nose was freezing. Then a cab klop-klopped over the cobbles below, and the quiet seemed to shake into little pieces. + + "I had better pull up a blind," said Josephine bravely. + + "Yes, it might be a good idea," whispered Constantia. + + They only gave the blind a touch, but it flew up and the cord flew after, rolling round the blind-stick, and the little tassel tapped as if trying to get free. That was too much for Constantia. + + "Don't you think--don't you think we might put it off for another day?" she whispered. + + "Why?" snapped Josephine, feeling, as usual, much better now that she knew for certain that Constantia was terrified. "It's got to be done. But I do wish you wouldn't whisper, Con." + + "I didn't know I was whispering," whispered Constantia. + + "And why do you keep staring at the bed?" said Josephine, raising her voice almost defiantly. "There's nothing on the bed." + + "Oh, Jug, don't say so!" said poor Connie. "At any rate, not so loudly." + + Josephine felt herself that she had gone too far. She took a wide swerve over to the chest of drawers, put out her hand, but quickly drew it back again. + + "Connie!" she gasped, and she wheeled round and leaned with her back against the chest of drawers. + + "Oh, Jug--what?" + + Josephine could only glare. She had the most extraordinary feeling that she had just escaped something simply awful. But how could she explain to Constantia that father was in the chest of drawers? He was in the top drawer with his handkerchiefs and neckties, or in the next with his shirts and pyjamas, or in the lowest of all with his suits. He was watching there, hidden away--just behind the door-handle--ready to spring. + + She pulled a funny old-fashioned face at Constantia, just as she used to in the old days when she was going to cry. + + "I can't open," she nearly wailed. + + "No, don't, Jug," whispered Constantia earnestly. "It's much better not to. Don't let's open anything. At any rate, not for a long time." + + "But--but it seems so weak," said Josephine, breaking down. + + "But why not be weak for once, Jug?" argued Constantia, whispering quite fiercely. "If it is weak." And her pale stare flew from the locked writing-table--so safe--to the huge glittering wardrobe, and she began to breathe in a queer, panting away. "Why shouldn't we be weak for once in our lives, Jug? It's quite excusable. Let's be weak--be weak, Jug. It's much nicer to be weak than to be strong." + + And then she did one of those amazingly bold things that she'd done about twice before in their lives: she marched over to the wardrobe, turned the key, and took it out of the lock. Took it out of the lock and held it up to Josephine, showing Josephine by her extraordinary smile that she knew what she'd done--she'd risked deliberately father being in there among his overcoats. + + If the huge wardrobe had lurched forward, had crashed down on Constantia, Josephine wouldn't have been surprised. On the contrary, she would have thought it the only suitable thing to happen. But nothing happened. Only the room seemed quieter than ever, and the bigger flakes of cold air fell on Josephine's shoulders and knees. She began to shiver. + + "Come, Jug," said Constantia, still with that awful callous smile, and Josephine followed just as she had that last time, when Constantia had pushed Benny into the round pond. + + Chapter 3. + + VII. + + But the strain told on them when they were back in the dining-room. They sat down, very shaky, and looked at each other. + + "I don't feel I can settle to anything," said Josephine, "until I've had something. Do you think we could ask Kate for two cups of hot water?" + + "I really don't see why we shouldn't," said Constantia carefully. She was quite normal again. "I won't ring. I'll go to the kitchen door and ask her." + + "Yes, do," said Josephine, sinking down into a chair. "Tell her, just two cups, Con, nothing else--on a tray." + + "She needn't even put the jug on, need she?" said Constantia, as though Kate might very well complain if the jug had been there. + + "Oh no, certainly not! The jug's not at all necessary. She can pour it direct out of the kettle," cried Josephine, feeling that would be a labour- saving indeed. + + Their cold lips quivered at the greenish brims. Josephine curved her small red hands round the cup; Constantia sat up and blew on the wavy steam, making it flutter from one side to the other. + + "Speaking of Benny," said Josephine. + + And though Benny hadn't been mentioned Constantia immediately looked as though he had. + + "He'll expect us to send him something of father's, of course. But it's so difficult to know what to send to Ceylon." + + "You mean things get unstuck so on the voyage," murmured Constantia. + + "No, lost," said Josephine sharply. "You know there's no post. Only runners." + + Both paused to watch a black man in white linen drawers running through the pale fields for dear life, with a large brown-paper parcel in his hands. Josephine's black man was tiny; he scurried along glistening like an ant. But there was something blind and tireless about Constantia's tall, thin fellow, which made him, she decided, a very unpleasant person indeed...On the veranda, dressed all in white and wearing a cork helmet, stood Benny. His right hand shook up and down, as father's did when he was impatient. And behind him, not in the least interested, sat Hilda, the unknown sister- in-law. She swung in a cane rocker and flicked over the leaves of the "Tatler." + + "I think his watch would be the most suitable present," said Josephine. + + Constantia looked up; she seemed surprised. + + "Oh, would you trust a gold watch to a native?" + + "But of course, I'd disguise it," said Josephine. "No one would know it was a watch." She liked the idea of having to make a parcel such a curious shape that no one could possibly guess what it was. She even thought for a moment of hiding the watch in a narrow cardboard corset-box that she'd kept by her for a long time, waiting for it to come in for something. It was such beautiful, firm cardboard. But, no, it wouldn't be appropriate for this occasion. It had lettering on it: "Medium Women's 28. Extra Firm Busks." It would be almost too much of a surprise for Benny to open that and find father's watch inside. + + "And of course it isn't as though it would be going--ticking, I mean," said Constantia, who was still thinking of the native love of jewellery. "At least," she added, "it would be very strange if after all that time it was." + + Chapter 3. + + VIII. + + Josephine made no reply. She had flown off on one of her tangents. She had suddenly thought of Cyril. Wasn't it more usual for the only grandson to have the watch? And then dear Cyril was so appreciative, and a gold watch meant so much to a young man. Benny, in all probability, had quite got out of the habit of watches; men so seldom wore waistcoats in those hot climates. Whereas Cyril in London wore them from year's end to year's end. And it would be so nice for her and Constantia, when he came to tea, to know it was there. "I see you've got on grandfather's watch, Cyril." It would be somehow so satisfactory. + + Dear boy! What a blow his sweet, sympathetic little note had been! Of course they quite understood; but it was most unfortunate. + + "It would have been such a point, having him," said Josephine. + + "And he would have enjoyed it so," said Constantia, not thinking what she was saying. + + However, as soon as he got back he was coming to tea with his aunties. Cyril to tea was one of their rare treats. + + "Now, Cyril, you mustn't be frightened of our cakes. Your Auntie Con and I bought them at Buszard's this morning. We know what a man's appetite is. So don't be ashamed of making a good tea." + + Josephine cut recklessly into the rich dark cake that stood for her winter gloves or the soling and heeling of Constantia's only respectable shoes. But Cyril was most unmanlike in appetite. + + "I say, Aunt Josephine, I simply can't. I've only just had lunch, you know." + + "Oh, Cyril, that can't be true! It's after four," cried Josephine. Constantia sat with her knife poised over the chocolate-roll. + + "It is, all the same," said Cyril. "I had to meet a man at Victoria, and he kept me hanging about till...there was only time to get lunch and to come on here. And he gave me--phew"--Cyril put his hand to his forehead-- "a terrific blow-out," he said. + + It was disappointing--to-day of all days. But still he couldn't be expected to know. + + "But you'll have a meringue, won't you, Cyril?" said Aunt Josephine. "These meringues were bought specially for you. Your dear father was so fond of them. We were sure you are, too." + + "I am, Aunt Josephine," cried Cyril ardently. "Do you mind if I take half to begin with?" + + "Not at all, dear boy; but we mustn't let you off with that." + + "Is your dear father still so fond of meringues?" asked Auntie Con gently. She winced faintly as she broke through the shell of hers. + + "Well, I don't quite know, Auntie Con," said Cyril breezily. + + At that they both looked up. + + "Don't know?" almost snapped Josephine. "Don't know a thing like that about your own father, Cyril?" + + "Surely," said Auntie Con softly. + + Cyril tried to laugh it off. "Oh, well," he said, "it's such a long time since--" He faltered. He stopped. Their faces were too much for him. + + "Even so," said Josephine. + + And Auntie Con looked. + + Cyril put down his teacup. "Wait a bit," he cried. "Wait a bit, Aunt Josephine. What am I thinking of?" + + He looked up. They were beginning to brighten. Cyril slapped his knee. + + "Of course," he said, "it was meringues. How could I have forgotten? Yes, Aunt Josephine, you're perfectly right. Father's most frightfully keen on meringues." + + They didn't only beam. Aunt Josephine went scarlet with pleasure; Auntie Con gave a deep, deep sigh. + + "And now, Cyril, you must come and see father," said Josephine. "He knows you were coming to-day." + + "Right," said Cyril, very firmly and heartily. He got up from his chair; suddenly he glanced at the clock. + + "I say, Auntie Con, isn't your clock a bit slow? I've got to meet a man at--at Paddington just after five. I'm afraid I shan't be able to stay very long with grandfather." + + "Oh, he won't expect you to stay very long!" said Aunt Josephine. + + Constantia was still gazing at the clock. She couldn't make up her mind if it was fast or slow. It was one or the other, she felt almost certain of that. At any rate, it had been. + + Cyril still lingered. "Aren't you coming along, Auntie Con?" + + "Of course," said Josephine, "we shall all go. Come on, Con." + + Chapter 3. + + IX. + + They knocked at the door, and Cyril followed his aunts into grandfather's hot, sweetish room. + + "Come on," said Grandfather Pinner. "Don't hang about. What is it? What've you been up to?" + + He was sitting in front of a roaring fire, clasping his stick. He had a thick rug over his knees. On his lap there lay a beautiful pale yellow silk handkerchief. + + "It's Cyril, father," said Josephine shyly. And she took Cyril's hand and led him forward. + + "Good afternoon, grandfather," said Cyril, trying to take his hand out of Aunt Josephine's. Grandfather Pinner shot his eyes at Cyril in the way he was famous for. Where was Auntie Con? She stood on the other side of Aunt Josephine; her long arms hung down in front of her; her hands were clasped. She never took her eyes off grandfather. + + "Well," said Grandfather Pinner, beginning to thump, "what have you got to tell me?" + + What had he, what had he got to tell him? Cyril felt himself smiling like a perfect imbecile. The room was stifling, too. + + But Aunt Josephine came to his rescue. She cried brightly, "Cyril says his father is still very fond of meringues, father dear." + + "Eh?" said Grandfather Pinner, curving his hand like a purple meringue- shell over one ear. + + Josephine repeated, "Cyril says his father is still very fond of meringues." + + "Can't hear," said old Colonel Pinner. And he waved Josephine away with his stick, then pointed with his stick to Cyril. "Tell me what she's trying to say," he said. + + (My God!) "Must I?" said Cyril, blushing and staring at Aunt Josephine. + + "Do, dear," she smiled. "It will please him so much." + + "Come on, out with it!" cried Colonel Pinner testily, beginning to thump again. + + And Cyril leaned forward and yelled, "Father's still very fond of meringues." + + At that Grandfather Pinner jumped as though he had been shot. + + "Don't shout!" he cried. "What's the matter with the boy? Meringues! What about 'em?" + + "Oh, Aunt Josephine, must we go on?" groaned Cyril desperately. + + "It's quite all right, dear boy," said Aunt Josephine, as though he and she were at the dentist's together. "He'll understand in a minute." And she whispered to Cyril, "He's getting a bit deaf, you know." Then she leaned forward and really bawled at Grandfather Pinner, "Cyril only wanted to tell you, father dear, that his father is still very fond of meringues." + + Colonel Pinner heard that time, heard and brooded, looking Cyril up and down. + + "What an esstrordinary thing!" said old Grandfather Pinner. "What an esstrordinary thing to come all this way here to tell me!" + + And Cyril felt it was. + + "Yes, I shall send Cyril the watch," said Josephine. + + "That would be very nice," said Constantia. "I seem to remember last time he came there was some little trouble about the time." + + Chapter 3. + + X. + + They were interrupted by Kate bursting through the door in her usual fashion, as though she had discovered some secret panel in the wall. + + "Fried or boiled?" asked the bold voice. + + Fried or boiled? Josephine and Constantia were quite bewildered for the moment. They could hardly take it in. + + "Fried or boiled what, Kate?" asked Josephine, trying to begin to concentrate. + + Kate gave a loud sniff. "Fish." + + "Well, why didn't you say so immediately?" Josephine reproached her gently. "How could you expect us to understand, Kate? There are a great many things in this world you know, which are fried or boiled." And after such a display of courage she said quite brightly to Constantia, "Which do you prefer, Con?" + + "I think it might be nice to have it fried," said Constantia. "On the other hand, of course, boiled fish is very nice. I think I prefer both equally well...Unless you...In that case--" + + "I shall fry it," said Kate, and she bounced back, leaving their door open and slamming the door of her kitchen. + + Josephine gazed at Constantia; she raised her pale eyebrows until they rippled away into her pale hair. She got up. She said in a very lofty, imposing way, "Do you mind following me into the drawing-room, Constantia? I've got something of great importance to discuss with you." + + For it was always to the drawing-room they retired when they wanted to talk over Kate. + + Josephine closed the door meaningly. "Sit down, Constantia," she said, still very grand. She might have been receiving Constantia for the first time. And Con looked round vaguely for a chair, as though she felt indeed quite a stranger. + + "Now the question is," said Josephine, bending forward, "whether we shall keep her or not." + + "That is the question," agreed Constantia. + + "And this time," said Josephine firmly, "we must come to a definite decision." + + Constantia looked for a moment as though she might begin going over all the other times, but she pulled herself together and said, "Yes, Jug." + + "You see, Con," explained Josephine, "everything is so changed now." Constantia looked up quickly. "I mean," went on Josephine, "we're not dependent on Kate as we were." And she blushed faintly. "There's not father to cook for." + + "That is perfectly true," agreed Constantia. "Father certainly doesn't want any cooking now, whatever else--" + + Josephine broke in sharply, "You're not sleepy, are you, Con?" + + "Sleepy, Jug?" Constantia was wide-eyed. + + "Well, concentrate more," said Josephine sharply, and she returned to the subject. "What it comes to is, if we did"--and this she barely breathed, glancing at the door--"give Kate notice"--she raised her voice again--"we could manage our own food." + + "Why not?" cried Constantia. She couldn't help smiling. The idea was so exciting. She clasped her hands. "What should we live on, Jug?" + + "Oh, eggs in various forms!" said Jug, lofty again. "And, besides, there are all the cooked foods." + + "But I've always heard," said Constantia, "they are considered so very expensive." + + "Not if one buys them in moderation," said Josephine. But she tore herself away from this fascinating bypath and dragged Constantia after her. + + "What we've got to decide now, however, is whether we really do trust Kate or not." + + Constantia leaned back. Her flat little laugh flew from her lips. + + "Isn't it curious, Jug," said she, "that just on this one subject I've never been able to quite make up my mind?" + + Chapter 3. + + XI. + + She never had. The whole difficulty was to prove anything. How did one prove things, how could one? Suppose Kate had stood in front of her and deliberately made a face. Mightn't she very well have been in pain? Wasn't it impossible, at any rate, to ask Kate if she was making a face at her? If Kate answered "No"--and, of course, she would say "No"--what a position! How undignified! Then again Constantia suspected, she was almost certain that Kate went to her chest of drawers when she and Josephine were out, not to take things but to spy. Many times she had come back to find her amethyst cross in the most unlikely places, under her lace ties or on top of her evening Bertha. More than once she had laid a trap for Kate. She had arranged things in a special order and then called Josephine to witness. + + "You see, Jug?" + + "Quite, Con." + + "Now we shall be able to tell." + + But, oh dear, when she did go to look, she was as far off from a proof as ever! If anything was displaced, it might so very well have happened as she closed the drawer; a jolt might have done it so easily. + + "You come, Jug, and decide. I really can't. It's too difficult." + + But after a pause and a long glare Josephine would sigh, "Now you've put the doubt into my mind, Con, I'm sure I can't tell myself." + + "Well, we can't postpone it again," said Josephine. "If we postpone it this time--" + + Chapter 3. + + XII. + + But at that moment in the street below a barrel-organ struck up. Josephine and Constantia sprang to their feet together. + + "Run, Con," said Josephine. "Run quickly. There's sixpence on the--" + + Then they remembered. It didn't matter. They would never have to stop the organ-grinder again. Never again would she and Constantia be told to make that monkey take his noise somewhere else. Never would sound that loud, strange bellow when father thought they were not hurrying enough. The organ-grinder might play there all day and the stick would not thump. + + "It never will thump again, It never will thump again, + + played the barrel-organ. + + What was Constantia thinking? She had such a strange smile; she looked different. She couldn't be going to cry. + + "Jug, Jug," said Constantia softly, pressing her hands together. "Do you know what day it is? It's Saturday. It's a week to-day, a whole week." + + "A week since father died, A week since father died," + + cried the barrel-organ. And Josephine, too, forgot to be practical and sensible; she smiled faintly, strangely. On the Indian carpet there fell a square of sunlight, pale red; it came and went and came--and stayed, deepened--until it shone almost golden. + + "The sun's out," said Josephine, as though it really mattered. + + A perfect fountain of bubbling notes shook from the barrel-organ, round, bright notes, carelessly scattered. + + Constantia lifted her big, cold hands as if to catch them, and then her hands fell again. She walked over to the mantelpiece to her favourite Buddha. And the stone and gilt image, whose smile always gave her such a queer feeling, almost a pain and yet a pleasant pain, seemed to-day to be more than smiling. He knew something; he had a secret. "I know something that you don't know," said her Buddha. Oh, what was it, what could it be? And yet she had always felt there was...something. + + The sunlight pressed through the windows, thieved its way in, flashed its light over the furniture and the photographs. Josephine watched it. When it came to mother's photograph, the enlargement over the piano, it lingered as though puzzled to find so little remained of mother, except the earrings shaped like tiny pagodas and a black feather boa. Why did the photographs of dead people always fade so? wondered Josephine. As soon as a person was dead their photograph died too. But, of course, this one of mother was very old. It was thirty-five years old. Josephine remembered standing on a chair and pointing out that feather boa to Constantia and telling her that it was a snake that had killed their mother in Ceylon...Would everything have been different if mother hadn't died? She didn't see why. Aunt Florence had lived with them until they had left school, and they had moved three times and had their yearly holiday and...and there'd been changes of servants, of course. + + Some little sparrows, young sparrows they sounded, chirped on the window- ledge. "Yeep--eyeep--yeep." But Josephine felt they were not sparrows, not on the window-ledge. It was inside her, that queer little crying noise. "Yeep--eyeep--yeep." Ah, what was it crying, so weak and forlorn? + + If mother had lived, might they have married? But there had been nobody for them to marry. There had been father's Anglo-Indian friends before he quarrelled with them. But after that she and Constantia never met a single man except clergymen. How did one meet men? Or even if they'd met them, how could they have got to know men well enough to be more than strangers? One read of people having adventures, being followed, and so on. But nobody had ever followed Constantia and her. Oh yes, there had been one year at Eastbourne a mysterious man at their boarding-house who had put a note on the jug of hot water outside their bedroom door! But by the time Connie had found it the steam had made the writing too faint to read; they couldn't even make out to which of them it was addressed. And he had left next day. And that was all. The rest had been looking after father, and at the same time keeping out of father's way. But now? But now? The thieving sun touched Josephine gently. She lifted her face. She was drawn over to the window by gentle beams... + + Until the barrel-organ stopped playing Constantia stayed before the Buddha, wondering, but not as usual, not vaguely. This time her wonder was like longing. She remembered the times she had come in here, crept out of bed in her nightgown when the moon was full, and lain on the floor with her arms outstretched, as though she was crucified. Why? The big, pale moon had made her do it. The horrible dancing figures on the carved screen had leered at her and she hadn't minded. She remembered too how, whenever they were at the seaside, she had gone off by herself and got as close to the sea as she could, and sung something, something she had made up, while she gazed all over that restless water. There had been this other life, running out, bringing things home in bags, getting things on approval, discussing them with Jug, and taking them back to get more things on approval, and arranging father's trays and trying not to annoy father. But it all seemed to have happened in a kind of tunnel. It wasn't real. It was only when she came out of the tunnel into the moonlight or by the sea or into a thunderstorm that she really felt herself. What did it mean? What was it she was always wanting? What did it all lead to? Now? Now? + + She turned away from the Buddha with one of her vague gestures. She went over to where Josephine was standing. She wanted to say something to Josephine, something frightfully important, about--about the future and what... + + "Don't you think perhaps--" she began. + + But Josephine interrupted her. "I was wondering if now--" she murmured. They stopped; they waited for each other. + + "Go on, Con," said Josephine. + + "No, no, Jug; after you," said Constantia. + + "No, say what you were going to say. You began," said Josephine. + + "I...I'd rather hear what you were going to say first," said Constantia. + + "Don't be absurd, Con." + + "Really, Jug." + + "Connie!" + + "Oh, Jug!" + + A pause. Then Constantia said faintly, "I can't say what I was going to say, Jug, because I've forgotten what it was...that I was going to say." + + Josephine was silent for a moment. She stared at a big cloud where the sun had been. Then she replied shortly, "I've forgotten too." + + + + 4. MR. AND MRS. DOVE. + + Of course he knew--no man better--that he hadn't a ghost of a chance, he hadn't an earthly. The very idea of such a thing was preposterous. So preposterous that he'd perfectly understand it if her father--well, whatever her father chose to do he'd perfectly understand. In fact, nothing short of desperation, nothing short of the fact that this was positively his last day in England for God knows how long, would have screwed him up to it. And even now...He chose a tie out of the chest of drawers, a blue and cream check tie, and sat on the side of his bed. Supposing she replied, "What impertinence!" would he be surprised? Not in the least, he decided, turning up his soft collar and turning it down over the tie. He expected her to say something like that. He didn't see, if he looked at the affair dead soberly, what else she could say. + + Here he was! And nervously he tied a bow in front of the mirror, jammed his hair down with both hands, pulled out the flaps of his jacket pockets. Making between 500 and 600 pounds a year on a fruit farm in--of all places- -Rhodesia. No capital. Not a penny coming to him. No chance of his income increasing for at least four years. As for looks and all that sort of thing, he was completely out of the running. He couldn't even boast of top-hole health, for the East Africa business had knocked him out so thoroughly that he'd had to take six months' leave. He was still fearfully pale--worse even than usual this afternoon, he thought, bending forward and peering into the mirror. Good heavens! What had happened? His hair looked almost bright green. Dash it all, he hadn't green hair at all events. That was a bit too steep. And then the green light trembled in the glass; it was the shadow from the tree outside. Reggie turned away, took out his cigarette case, but remembering how the mater hated him to smoke in his bedroom, put it back again and drifted over to the chest of drawers. No, he was dashed if he could think of one blessed thing in his favour, while she...Ah!...He stopped dead, folded his arms, and leaned hard against the chest of drawers. + + And in spite of her position, her father's wealth, the fact that she was an only child and far and away the most popular girl in the neighbourhood; in spite of her beauty and her cleverness--cleverness!--it was a great deal more than that, there was really nothing she couldn't do; he fully believed, had it been necessary, she would have been a genius at anything-- in spite of the fact that her parents adored her, and she them, and they'd as soon let her go all that way as...In spite of every single thing you could think of, so terrific was his love that he couldn't help hoping. Well, was it hope? Or was this queer, timid longing to have the chance of looking after her, of making it his job to see that she had everything she wanted, and that nothing came near her that wasn't perfect--just love? How he loved her! He squeezed hard against the chest of drawers and murmured to it, "I love her, I love her!" And just for the moment he was with her on the way to Umtali. It was night. She sat in a corner asleep. Her soft chin was tucked into her soft collar, her gold-brown lashes lay on her cheeks. He doted on her delicate little nose, her perfect lips, her ear like a baby's, and the gold-brown curl that half covered it. They were passing through the jungle. It was warm and dark and far away. Then she woke up and said, "Have I been asleep?" and he answered, "Yes. Are you all right? Here, let me--" And he leaned forward to...He bent over her. This was such bliss that he could dream no further. But it gave him the courage to bound downstairs, to snatch his straw hat from the hall, and to say as he closed the front door, "Well, I can only try my luck, that's all." + + But his luck gave him a nasty jar, to say the least, almost immediately. Promenading up and down the garden path with Chinny and Biddy, the ancient Pekes, was the mater. Of course Reginald was fond of the mater and all that. She--she meant well, she had no end of grit, and so on. But there was no denying it, she was rather a grim parent. And there had been moments, many of them, in Reggie's life, before Uncle Alick died and left him the fruit farm, when he was convinced that to be a widow's only son was about the worst punishment a chap could have. And what made it rougher than ever was that she was positively all that he had. She wasn't only a combined parent, as it were, but she had quarrelled with all her own and the governor's relations before Reggie had won his first trouser pockets. So that whenever Reggie was homesick out there, sitting on his dark veranda by starlight, while the gramophone cried, "Dear, what is Life but Love?" his only vision was of the mater, tall and stout, rustling down the garden path, with Chinny and Biddy at her heels... + + The mater, with her scissors outspread to snap the head of a dead something or other, stopped at the sight of Reggie. + + "You are not going out, Reginald?" she asked, seeing that he was. + + "I'll be back for tea, mater," said Reggie weakly, plunging his hands into his jacket pockets. + + Snip. Off came a head. Reggie almost jumped. + + "I should have thought you could have spared your mother your last afternoon," said she. + + Silence. The Pekes stared. They understood every word of the mater's. Biddy lay down with her tongue poked out; she was so fat and glossy she looked like a lump of half-melted toffee. But Chinny's porcelain eyes gloomed at Reginald, and he sniffed faintly, as though the whole world were one unpleasant smell. Snip, went the scissors again. Poor little beggars; they were getting it! + + "And where are you going, if your mother may ask?" asked the mater. + + It was over at last, but Reggie did not slow down until he was out of sight of the house and half-way to Colonel Proctor's. Then only he noticed what a top-hole afternoon it was. It had been raining all the morning, late summer rain, warm, heavy, quick, and now the sky was clear, except for a long tail of little clouds, like duckings, sailing over the forest. There was just enough wind to shake the last drops off the trees; one warm star splashed on his hand. Ping!--another drummed on his hat. The empty road gleamed, the hedges smelled of briar, and how big and bright the hollyhocks glowed in the cottage gardens. And here was Colonel Proctor's--here it was already. His hand was on the gate, his elbow jogged the syringa bushes, and petals and pollen scattered over his coat sleeve. But wait a bit. This was too quick altogether. He'd meant to think the whole thing out again. Here, steady. But he was walking up the path, with the huge rose bushes on either side. It can't be done like this. But his hand had grasped the bell, given it a pull, and started it pealing wildly, as if he'd come to say the house was on fire. The housemaid must have been in the hall, too, for the front door flashed open, and Reggie was shut in the empty drawing-room before that confounded bell had stopped ringing. Strangely enough, when it did, the big room, shadowy, with some one's parasol lying on top of the grand piano, bucked him up--or rather, excited him. It was so quiet, and yet in one moment the door would open, and his fate be decided. The feeling was not unlike that of being at the dentist's; he was almost reckless. But at the same time, to his immense surprise, Reggie heard himself saying, "Lord, Thou knowest, Thou hast not done much for me..." That pulled him up; that made him realize again how dead serious it was. Too late. The door handle turned. Anne came in, crossed the shadowy space between them, gave him her hand, and said, in her small, soft voice, "I'm so sorry, father is out. And mother is having a day in town, hat-hunting. There's only me to entertain you, Reggie." + + Reggie gasped, pressed his own hat to his jacket buttons, and stammered out, "As a matter of fact, I've only come...to say good-bye." + + "Oh!" cried Anne softly--she stepped back from him and her grey eyes danced--"what a very short visit!" + + Then, watching him, her chin tilted, she laughed outright, a long, soft peal, and walked away from him over to the piano, and leaned against it, playing with the tassel of the parasol. + + "I'm so sorry," she said, "to be laughing like this. I don't know why I do. It's just a bad ha--habit." And suddenly she stamped her grey shoe, and took a pocket-handkerchief out of her white woolly jacket. "I really must conquer it, it's too absurd," said she. + + "Good heavens, Anne," cried Reggie, "I love to hear you laughing! I can't imagine anything more--" + + But the truth was, and they both knew it, she wasn't always laughing; it wasn't really a habit. Only ever since the day they'd met, ever since that very first moment, for some strange reason that Reggie wished to God he understood, Anne had laughed at him. Why? It didn't matter where they were or what they were talking about. They might begin by being as serious as possible, dead serious--at any rate, as far as he was concerned--but then suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, Anne would glance at him, and a little quick quiver passed over her face. Her lips parted, her eyes danced, and she began laughing. + + Another queer thing about it was, Reggie had an idea she didn't herself know why she laughed. He had seen her turn away, frown, suck in her cheeks, press her hands together. But it was no use. The long, soft peal sounded, even while she cried, "I don't know why I'm laughing." It was a mystery... + + Now she tucked the handkerchief away. + + "Do sit down," said she. "And smoke, won't you? There are cigarettes in that little box beside you. I'll have one too." He lighted a match for her, and as she bent forward he saw the tiny flame glow in the pearl ring she wore. "It is to-morrow that you're going, isn't it?" said Anne. + + "Yes, to-morrow as ever was," said Reggie, and he blew a little fan of smoke. Why on earth was he so nervous? Nervous wasn't the word for it. + + "It's--it's frightfully hard to believe," he added. + + "Yes--isn't it?" said Anne softly, and she leaned forward and rolled the point of her cigarette round the green ash-tray. How beautiful she looked like that!--simply beautiful--and she was so small in that immense chair. Reginald's heart swelled with tenderness, but it was her voice, her soft voice, that made him tremble. "I feel you've been here for years," she said. + + Reginald took a deep breath of his cigarette. "It's ghastly, this idea of going back," be said. + + "Coo-roo-coo-coo-coo," sounded from the quiet. + + "But you're fond of being out there, aren't you?" said Anne. She hooked her finger through her pearl necklace. "Father was saying only the other night how lucky he thought you were to have a life of your own." And she looked up at him. Reginald's smile was rather wan. "I don't feel fearfully lucky," he said lightly. + + "Roo-coo-coo-coo," came again. And Anne murmured, "You mean it's lonely." + + "Oh, it isn't the loneliness I care about," said Reginald, and he stumped his cigarette savagely on the green ash-tray. "I could stand any amount of it, used to like it even. It's the idea of--" Suddenly, to his horror, he felt himself blushing. + + "Roo-coo-coo-coo! Roo-coo-coo-coo!" + + Anne jumped up. "Come and say good-bye to my doves," she said. "They've been moved to the side veranda. You do like doves, don't you, Reggie?" + + "Awfully," said Reggie, so fervently that as he opened the French window for her and stood to one side, Anne ran forward and laughed at the doves instead. + + To and fro, to and fro over the fine red sand on the floor of the dove house, walked the two doves. One was always in front of the other. One ran forward, uttering a little cry, and the other followed, solemnly bowing and bowing. "You see," explained Anne, "the one in front, she's Mrs. Dove. She looks at Mr. Dove and gives that little laugh and runs forward, and he follows her, bowing and bowing. And that makes her laugh again. Away she runs, and after her," cried Anne, and she sat back on her heels, "comes poor Mr. Dove, bowing and bowing...and that's their whole life. They never do anything else, you know." She got up and took some yellow grains out of a bag on the roof of the dove house. "When you think of them, out in Rhodesia, Reggie, you can be sure that is what they will be doing..." + + Reggie gave no sign of having seen the doves or of having heard a word. For the moment he was conscious only of the immense effort it took to tear his secret out of himself and offer it to Anne. "Anne, do you think you could ever care for me?" It was done. It was over. And in the little pause that followed Reginald saw the garden open to the light, the blue quivering sky, the flutter of leaves on the veranda poles, and Anne turning over the grains of maize on her palm with one finger. Then slowly she shut her hand, and the new world faded as she murmured slowly, "No, never in that way." But he had scarcely time to feel anything before she walked quickly away, and he followed her down the steps, along the garden path, under the pink rose arches, across the lawn. There, with the gay herbaceous border behind her, Anne faced Reginald. "It isn't that I'm not awfully fond of you," she said. "I am. But"--her eyes widened--"not in the way"--a quiver passed over her face--"one ought to be fond of--" Her lips parted, and she couldn't stop herself. She began laughing. "There, you see, you see," she cried, "it's your check t-tie. Even at this moment, when one would think one really would be solemn, your tie reminds me fearfully of the bow-tie that cats wear in pictures! Oh, please forgive me for being so horrid, please!" + + Reggie caught hold of her little warm hand. "There's no question of forgiving you," he said quickly. "How could there be? And I do believe I know why I make you laugh. It's because you're so far above me in every way that I am somehow ridiculous. I see that, Anne. But if I were to--" + + "No, no." Anne squeezed his hand hard. "It's not that. That's all wrong. I'm not far above you at all. You're much better than I am. You're marvellously unselfish and...and kind and simple. I'm none of those things. You don't know me. I'm the most awful character," said Anne. "Please don't interrupt. And besides, that's not the point. The point is"--she shook her head--"I couldn't possibly marry a man I laughed at. Surely you see that. The man I marry--" breathed Anne softly. She broke off. She drew her hand away, and looking at Reggie she smiled strangely, dreamily. "The man I marry--" + + And it seemed to Reggie that a tall, handsome, brilliant stranger stepped in front of him and took his place--the kind of man that Anne and he had seen often at the theatre, walking on to the stage from nowhere, without a word catching the heroine in his arms, and after one long, tremendous look, carrying her off to anywhere... + + Reggie bowed to his vision. "Yes, I see," he said huskily. + + "Do you?" said Anne. "Oh, I do hope you do. Because I feel so horrid about it. It's so hard to explain. You know I've never--" She stopped. Reggie looked at her. She was smiling. "Isn't it funny?" she said. "I can say anything to you. I always have been able to from the very beginning." + + He tried to smile, to say "I'm glad." She went on. "I've never known any one I like as much as I like you. I've never felt so happy with any one. But I'm sure it's not what people and what books mean when they talk about love. Do you understand? Oh, if you only knew how horrid I feel. But we'd be like...like Mr. and Mrs. Dove." + + That did it. That seemed to Reginald final, and so terribly true that he could hardly bear it. "Don't drive it home," he said, and he turned away from Anne and looked across the lawn. There was the gardener's cottage, with the dark ilex-tree beside it. A wet, blue thumb of transparent smoke hung above the chimney. It didn't look real. How his throat ached! Could he speak? He had a shot. "I must be getting along home," he croaked, and he began walking across the lawn. But Anne ran after him. "No, don't. You can't go yet," she said imploringly. "You can't possibly go away feeling like that." And she stared up at him frowning, biting her lip. + + "Oh, that's all right," said Reggie, giving himself a shake. "I'll... I'll--" And he waved his hand as much to say "get over it." + + "But this is awful," said Anne. She clasped her hands and stood in front of him. "Surely you do see how fatal it would be for us to marry, don't you?" + + "Oh, quite, quite," said Reggie, looking at her with haggard eyes. + + "How wrong, how wicked, feeling as I do. I mean, it's all very well for Mr. and Mrs. Dove. But imagine that in real life--imagine it!" + + "Oh, absolutely," said Reggie, and he started to walk on. But again Anne stopped him. She tugged at his sleeve, and to his astonishment, this time, instead of laughing, she looked like a little girl who was going to cry. + + "Then why, if you understand, are you so un-unhappy?" she wailed. "Why do you mind so fearfully? Why do you look so aw-awful?" + + Reggie gulped, and again he waved something away. "I can't help it," he said, "I've had a blow. If I cut off now, I'll be able to--" + + "How can you talk of cutting off now?" said Anne scornfully. She stamped her foot at Reggie; she was crimson. "How can you be so cruel? I can't let you go until I know for certain that you are just as happy as you were before you asked me to marry you. Surely you must see that, it's so simple." + + But it did not seem at all simple to Reginald. It seemed impossibly difficult. + + "Even if I can't marry you, how can I know that you're all that way away, with only that awful mother to write to, and that you're miserable, and that it's all my fault?" + + "It's not your fault. Don't think that. It's just fate." Reggie took her hand off his sleeve and kissed it. "Don't pity me, dear little Anne," he said gently. And this time he nearly ran, under the pink arches, along the garden path. + + "Roo-coo-coo-coo! Roo-coo-coo-coo!" sounded from the veranda. "Reggie, Reggie," from the garden. + + He stopped, he turned. But when she saw his timid, puzzled look, she gave a little laugh. + + "Come back, Mr. Dove," said Anne. And Reginald came slowly across the lawn. + + + + 5. THE YOUNG GIRL. + + In her blue dress, with her cheeks lightly flushed, her blue, blue eyes, and her gold curls pinned up as though for the first time--pinned up to be out of the way for her flight--Mrs. Raddick's daughter might have just dropped from this radiant heaven. Mrs. Raddick's timid, faintly astonished, but deeply admiring glance looked as if she believed it, too; but the daughter didn't appear any too pleased--why should she?--to have alighted on the steps of the Casino. Indeed, she was bored--bored as though Heaven had been full of casinos with snuffy old saints for croupiers and crowns to play with. + + "You don't mind taking Hennie?" said Mrs. Raddick. "Sure you don't? There's the car, and you'll have tea and we'll be back here on this step-- right here--in an hour. You see, I want her to go in. She's not been before, and it's worth seeing. I feel it wouldn't be fair to her." + + "Oh, shut up, mother," said she wearily. "Come along. Don't talk so much. And your bag's open; you'll be losing all your money again." + + "I'm sorry, darling," said Mrs. Raddick. + + "Oh, do come in! I want to make money," said the impatient voice. "It's all jolly well for you--but I'm broke!" + + "Here--take fifty francs, darling, take a hundred!" I saw Mrs. Raddick pressing notes into her hand as they passed through the swing doors. + + Hennie and I stood on the steps a minute, watching the people. He had a very broad, delighted smile. + + "I say," he cried, "there's an English bulldog. Are they allowed to take dogs in there?" + + "No, they're not." + + "He's a ripping chap, isn't he? I wish I had one. They're such fun. They frighten people so, and they're never fierce with their--the people they belong to." Suddenly he squeezed my arm. "I say, do look at that old woman. Who is she? Why does she look like that? Is she a gambler?" + + The ancient, withered creature, wearing a green satin dress, a black velvet cloak and a white hat with purple feathers, jerked slowly, slowly up the steps as though she were being drawn up on wires. She stared in front of her, she was laughing and nodding and cackling to herself; her claws clutched round what looked like a dirty boot-bag. + + But just at that moment there was Mrs. Raddick again with--her--and another lady hovering in the background. Mrs. Raddick rushed at me. She was brightly flushed, gay, a different creature. She was like a woman who is saying "good-bye" to her friends on the station platform, with not a minute to spare before the train starts. + + "Oh, you're here, still. Isn't that lucky! You've not gone. Isn't that fine! I've had the most dreadful time with--her," and she waved to her daughter, who stood absolutely still, disdainful, looking down, twiddling her foot on the step, miles away. "They won't let her in. I swore she was twenty-one. But they won't believe me. I showed the man my purse; I didn't dare to do more. But it was no use. He simply scoffed...And now I've just met Mrs. MacEwen from New York, and she just won thirteen thousand in the Salle Privee--and she wants me to go back with her while the luck lasts. Of course I can't leave--her. But if you'd--" + + At that "she" looked up; she simply withered her mother. "Why can't you leave me?" she said furiously. "What utter rot! How dare you make a scene like this? This is the last time I'll come out with you. You really are too awful for words." She looked her mother up and down. "Calm yourself," she said superbly. + + Mrs. Raddick was desperate, just desperate. She was "wild" to go back with Mrs. MacEwen, but at the same time ... + + I seized my courage. "Would you--do you care to come to tea with--us?" + + "Yes, yes, she'll be delighted. That's just what I wanted, isn't it, darling? Mrs. MacEwen...I'll be back here in an hour...or less...I'll--" + + Mrs. R. dashed up the steps. I saw her bag was open again. + + So we three were left. But really it wasn't my fault. Hennie looked crushed to the earth, too. When the car was there she wrapped her dark coat round her--to escape contamination. Even her little feet looked as though they scorned to carry her down the steps to us. + + "I am so awfully sorry," I murmured as the car started. + + "Oh, I don't mind," said she. "I don't want to look twenty-one. Who would--if they were seventeen! It's"--and she gave a faint shudder--"the stupidity I loathe, and being stared at by old fat men. Beasts!" + + Hennie gave her a quick look and then peered out of the window. + + We drew up before an immense palace of pink-and-white marble with orange- trees outside the doors in gold-and-black tubs. + + "Would you care to go in?" I suggested. + + She hesitated, glanced, bit her lip, and resigned herself. "Oh well, there seems nowhere else," said she. "Get out, Hennie." + + I went first--to find the table, of course--she followed. But the worst of it was having her little brother, who was only twelve, with us. That was the last, final straw--having that child, trailing at her heels. + + There was one table. It had pink carnations and pink plates with little blue tea-napkins for sails. + + "Shall we sit here?" + + She put her hand wearily on the back of a white wicker chair. + + "We may as well. Why not?" said she. + + Hennie squeezed past her and wriggled on to a stool at the end. He felt awfully out of it. She didn't even take her gloves off. She lowered her eyes and drummed on the table. When a faint violin sounded she winced and bit her lip again. Silence. + + The waitress appeared. I hardly dared to ask her. "Tea--coffee? China tea--or iced tea with lemon?" + + Really she didn't mind. It was all the same to her. She didn't really want anything. Hennie whispered, "Chocolate!" + + But just as the waitress turned away she cried out carelessly, "Oh, you may as well bring me a chocolate, too." + + While we waited she took out a little, gold powder-box with a mirror in the lid, shook the poor little puff as though she loathed it, and dabbed her lovely nose. + + "Hennie," she said, "take those flowers away." She pointed with her puff to the carnations, and I heard her murmur, "I can't bear flowers on a table." They had evidently been giving her intense pain, for she positively closed her eyes as I moved them away. + + The waitress came back with the chocolate and the tea. She put the big, frothing cups before them and pushed across my clear glass. Hennie buried his nose, emerged, with, for one dreadful moment, a little trembling blob of cream on the tip. But he hastily wiped it off like a little gentleman. I wondered if I should dare draw her attention to her cup. She didn't notice it--didn't see it--until suddenly, quite by chance, she took a sip. I watched anxiously; she faintly shuddered. + + "Dreadfully sweet!" said she. + + A tiny boy with a head like a raisin and a chocolate body came round with a tray of pastries--row upon row of little freaks, little inspirations, little melting dreams. He offered them to her. "Oh, I'm not at all hungry. Take them away." + + He offered them to Hennie. Hennie gave me a swift look--it must have been satisfactory--for he took a chocolate cream, a coffee eclair, a meringue stuffed with chestnut and a tiny horn filled with fresh strawberries. She could hardly bear to watch him. But just as the boy swerved away she held up her plate. + + "Oh well, give me one," said she. + + The silver tongs dropped one, two, three--and a cherry tartlet. "I don't know why you're giving me all these," she said, and nearly smiled. "I shan't eat them; I couldn't!" + + I felt much more comfortable. I sipped my tea, leaned back, and even asked if I might smoke. At that she paused, the fork in her hand, opened her eyes, and really did smile. "Of course," said she. "I always expect people to." + + But at that moment a tragedy happened to Hennie. He speared his pastry horn too hard, and it flew in two, and one half spilled on the table. Ghastly affair! He turned crimson. Even his ears flared, and one ashamed hand crept across the table to take what was left of the body away. + + "You utter little beast!" said she. + + Good heavens! I had to fly to the rescue. I cried hastily, "Will you be abroad long?" + + But she had already forgotten Hennie. I was forgotten, too. She was trying to remember something...She was miles away. + + "I--don't--know," she said slowly, from that far place. + + "I suppose you prefer it to London. It's more--more--" + + When I didn't go on she came back and looked at me, very puzzled. "More--?" + + "Enfin--gayer," I cried, waving my cigarette. + + But that took a whole cake to consider. Even then, "Oh well, that depends!" was all she could safely say. + + Hennie had finished. He was still very warm. + + I seized the butterfly list off the table. "I say--what about an ice, Hennie? What about tangerine and ginger? No, something cooler. What about a fresh pineapple cream?" + + Hennie strongly approved. The waitress had her eye on us. The order was taken when she looked up from her crumbs. + + "Did you say tangerine and ginger? I like ginger. You can bring me one." And then quickly, "I wish that orchestra wouldn't play things from the year One. We were dancing to that all last Christmas. It's too sickening!" + + But it was a charming air. Now that I noticed it, it warmed me. + + "I think this is rather a nice place, don't you, Hennie?" I said. + + Hennie said: "Ripping!" He meant to say it very low, but it came out very high in a kind of squeak. + + Nice? This place? Nice? For the first time she stared about her, trying to see what there was...She blinked; her lovely eyes wondered. A very good-looking elderly man stared back at her through a monocle on a black ribbon. But him she simply couldn't see. There was a hole in the air where he was. She looked through and through him. + + Finally the little flat spoons lay still on the glass plates. Hennie looked rather exhausted, but she pulled on her white gloves again. She had some trouble with her diamond wrist-watch; it got in her way. She tugged at it--tried to break the stupid little thing--it wouldn't break. Finally, she had to drag her glove over. I saw, after that, she couldn't stand this place a moment longer, and, indeed, she jumped up and turned away while I went through the vulgar act of paying for the tea. + + And then we were outside again. It had grown dusky. The sky was sprinkled with small stars; the big lamps glowed. While we waited for the car to come up she stood on the step, just as before, twiddling her foot, looking down. + + Hennie bounded forward to open the door and she got in and sank back with-- oh--such a sigh! + + "Tell him," she gasped, "to drive as fast as he can." + + Hennie grinned at his friend the chauffeur. "Allie veet!" said he. Then he composed himself and sat on the small seat facing us. + + The gold powder-box came out again. Again the poor little puff was shaken; again there was that swift, deadly-secret glance between her and the mirror. + + We tore through the black-and-gold town like a pair of scissors tearing through brocade. Hennie had great difficulty not to look as though he were hanging on to something. + + And when we reached the Casino, of course Mrs. Raddick wasn't there. There wasn't a sign of her on the steps--not a sign. + + "Will you stay in the car while I go and look?" + + But no--she wouldn't do that. Good heavens, no! Hennie could stay. She couldn't bear sitting in a car. She'd wait on the steps. + + "But I scarcely like to leave you," I murmured. "I'd very much rather not leave you here." + + At that she threw back her coat; she turned and faced me; her lips parted. "Good heavens--why! I--I don't mind it a bit. I--I like waiting." And suddenly her cheeks crimsoned, her eyes grew dark--for a moment I thought she was going to cry. "L--let me, please," she stammered, in a warm, eager voice. "I like it. I love waiting! Really--really I do! I'm always waiting--in all kinds of places..." + + Her dark coat fell open, and her white throat--all her soft young body in the blue dress--was like a flower that is just emerging from its dark bud. + + + + 6. LIFE OF MA PARKER. + + When the literary gentleman, whose flat old Ma Parker cleaned every Tuesday, opened the door to her that morning, he asked after her grandson. Ma Parker stood on the doormat inside the dark little hall, and she stretched out her hand to help her gentleman shut the door before she replied. "We buried 'im yesterday, sir," she said quietly. + + "Oh, dear me! I'm sorry to hear that," said the literary gentleman in a shocked tone. He was in the middle of his breakfast. He wore a very shabby dressing-gown and carried a crumpled newspaper in one hand. But he felt awkward. He could hardly go back to the warm sitting-room without saying something--something more. Then because these people set such store by funerals he said kindly, "I hope the funeral went off all right." + + "Beg parding, sir?" said old Ma Parker huskily. + + Poor old bird! She did look dashed. "I hope the funeral was a--a-- success," said he. Ma Parker gave no answer. She bent her head and hobbled off to the kitchen, clasping the old fish bag that held her cleaning things and an apron and a pair of felt shoes. The literary gentleman raised his eyebrows and went back to his breakfast. + + "Overcome, I suppose," he said aloud, helping himself to the marmalade. + + Ma Parker drew the two jetty spears out of her toque and hung it behind the door. She unhooked her worn jacket and hung that up too. Then she tied her apron and sat down to take off her boots. To take off her boots or to put them on was an agony to her, but it had been an agony for years. In fact, she was so accustomed to the pain that her face was drawn and screwed up ready for the twinge before she'd so much as untied the laces. That over, she sat back with a sigh and softly rubbed her knees... + + "Gran! Gran!" Her little grandson stood on her lap in his button boots. He'd just come in from playing in the street. + + "Look what a state you've made your gran's skirt into--you wicked boy!" + + But he put his arms round her neck and rubbed his cheek against hers. + + "Gran, gi' us a penny!" he coaxed. + + "Be off with you; Gran ain't got no pennies." + + "Yes, you 'ave." + + "No, I ain't." + + "Yes, you 'ave. Gi' us one!" + + Already she was feeling for the old, squashed, black leather purse. + + "Well, what'll you give your gran?" + + He gave a shy little laugh and pressed closer. She felt his eyelid quivering against her cheek. "I ain't got nothing," he murmured... + + The old woman sprang up, seized the iron kettle off the gas stove and took it over to the sink. The noise of the water drumming in the kettle deadened her pain, it seemed. She filled the pail, too, and the washing-up bowl. + + It would take a whole book to describe the state of that kitchen. During the week the literary gentleman "did" for himself. That is to say, he emptied the tea leaves now and again into a jam jar set aside for that purpose, and if he ran out of clean forks he wiped over one or two on the roller towel. Otherwise, as he explained to his friends, his "system" was quite simple, and he couldn't understand why people made all this fuss about housekeeping. + + "You simply dirty everything you've got, get a hag in once a week to clean up, and the thing's done." + + The result looked like a gigantic dustbin. Even the floor was littered with toast crusts, envelopes, cigarette ends. But Ma Parker bore him no grudge. She pitied the poor young gentleman for having no one to look after him. Out of the smudgy little window you could see an immense expanse of sad-looking sky, and whenever there were clouds they looked very worn, old clouds, frayed at the edges, with holes in them, or dark stains like tea. + + While the water was heating, Ma Parker began sweeping the floor. "Yes," she thought, as the broom knocked, "what with one thing and another I've had my share. I've had a hard life." + + Even the neighbours said that of her. Many a time, hobbling home with her fish bag she heard them, waiting at the corner, or leaning over the area railings, say among themselves, "She's had a hard life, has Ma Parker." And it was so true she wasn't in the least proud of it. It was just as if you were to say she lived in the basement-back at Number 27. A hard life!... + + At sixteen she'd left Stratford and come up to London as kitching-maid. Yes, she was born in Stratford-on-Avon. Shakespeare, sir? No, people were always arsking her about him. But she'd never heard his name until she saw it on the theatres. + + Nothing remained of Stratford except that "sitting in the fire-place of a evening you could see the stars through the chimley," and "Mother always 'ad 'er side of bacon, 'anging from the ceiling." And there was something- -a bush, there was--at the front door, that smelt ever so nice. But the bush was very vague. She'd only remembered it once or twice in the hospital, when she'd been taken bad. + + That was a dreadful place--her first place. She was never allowed out. She never went upstairs except for prayers morning and evening. It was a fair cellar. And the cook was a cruel woman. She used to snatch away her letters from home before she'd read them, and throw them in the range because they made her dreamy...And the beedles! Would you believe it?-- until she came to London she'd never seen a black beedle. Here Ma always gave a little laugh, as though--not to have seen a black beedle! Well! It was as if to say you'd never seen your own feet. + + When that family was sold up she went as "help" to a doctor's house, and after two years there, on the run from morning till night, she married her husband. He was a baker. + + "A baker, Mrs. Parker!" the literary gentleman would say. For occasionally he laid aside his tomes and lent an ear, at least, to this product called Life. "It must be rather nice to be married to a baker!" + + Mrs. Parker didn't look so sure. + + "Such a clean trade," said the gentleman. + + Mrs. Parker didn't look convinced. + + "And didn't you like handing the new loaves to the customers?" + + "Well, sir," said Mrs. Parker, "I wasn't in the shop above a great deal. We had thirteen little ones and buried seven of them. If it wasn't the 'ospital it was the infirmary, you might say!" + + "You might, indeed, Mrs. Parker!" said the gentleman, shuddering, and taking up his pen again. + + Yes, seven had gone, and while the six were still small her husband was taken ill with consumption. It was flour on the lungs, the doctor told her at the time...Her husband sat up in bed with his shirt pulled over his head, and the doctor's finger drew a circle on his back. + + "Now, if we were to cut him open here, Mrs. Parker," said the doctor, "you'd find his lungs chock-a-block with white powder. Breathe, my good fellow!" And Mrs. Parker never knew for certain whether she saw or whether she fancied she saw a great fan of white dust come out of her poor dead husband's lips... + + But the struggle she'd had to bring up those six little children and keep herself to herself. Terrible it had been! Then, just when they were old enough to go to school her husband's sister came to stop with them to help things along, and she hadn't been there more than two months when she fell down a flight of steps and hurt her spine. And for five years Ma Parker had another baby--and such a one for crying!--to look after. Then young Maudie went wrong and took her sister Alice with her; the two boys emigrimated, and young Jim went to India with the army, and Ethel, the youngest, married a good-for-nothing little waiter who died of ulcers the year little Lennie was born. And now little Lennie--my grandson... + + The piles of dirty cups, dirty dishes, were washed and dried. The ink- black knives were cleaned with a piece of potato and finished off with a piece of cork. The table was scrubbed, and the dresser and the sink that had sardine tails swimming in it... + + He'd never been a strong child--never from the first. He'd been one of those fair babies that everybody took for a girl. Silvery fair curls he had, blue eyes, and a little freckle like a diamond on one side of his nose. The trouble she and Ethel had had to rear that child! The things out of the newspapers they tried him with! Every Sunday morning Ethel would read aloud while Ma Parker did her washing. + + "Dear Sir,--Just a line to let you know my little Myrtil was laid out for dead...After four bottils...gained 8 lbs. in 9 weeks, and is still putting it on." + + And then the egg-cup of ink would come off the dresser and the letter would be written, and Ma would buy a postal order on her way to work next morning. But it was no use. Nothing made little Lennie put it on. Taking him to the cemetery, even, never gave him a colour; a nice shake-up in the bus never improved his appetite. + + But he was gran's boy from the first... + + "Whose boy are you?" said old Ma Parker, straightening up from the stove and going over to the smudgy window. And a little voice, so warm, so close, it half stifled her--it seemed to be in her breast under her heart-- laughed out, and said, "I'm gran's boy!" + + At that moment there was a sound of steps, and the literary gentleman appeared, dressed for walking. + + "Oh, Mrs. Parker, I'm going out." + + "Very good, sir." + + "And you'll find your half-crown in the tray of the inkstand." + + "Thank you, sir." + + "Oh, by the way, Mrs. Parker," said the literary gentleman quickly, "you didn't throw away any cocoa last time you were here--did you?" + + "No, sir." "Very strange. I could have sworn I left a teaspoonful of cocoa in the tin." He broke off. He said softly and firmly, "You'll always tell me when you throw things away--won't you, Mrs. Parker?" And he walked off very well pleased with himself, convinced, in fact, he'd shown Mrs. Parker that under his apparent carelessness he was as vigilant as a woman. + + The door banged. She took her brushes and cloths into the bedroom. But when she began to make the bed, smoothing, tucking, patting, the thought of little Lennie was unbearable. Why did he have to suffer so? That's what she couldn't understand. Why should a little angel child have to arsk for his breath and fight for it? There was no sense in making a child suffer like that. + + ...From Lennie's little box of a chest there came a sound as though something was boiling. There was a great lump of something bubbling in his chest that he couldn't get rid of. When he coughed the sweat sprang out on his head; his eyes bulged, his hands waved, and the great lump bubbled as a potato knocks in a saucepan. But what was more awful than all was when he didn't cough he sat against the pillow and never spoke or answered, or even made as if he heard. Only he looked offended. + + "It's not your poor old gran's doing it, my lovey," said old Ma Parker, patting back the damp hair from his little scarlet ears. But Lennie moved his head and edged away. Dreadfully offended with her he looked--and solemn. He bent his head and looked at her sideways as though he couldn't have believed it of his gran. + + But at the last...Ma Parker threw the counterpane over the bed. No, she simply couldn't think about it. It was too much--she'd had too much in her life to bear. She'd borne it up till now, she'd kept herself to herself, and never once had she been seen to cry. Never by a living soul. Not even her own children had seen Ma break down. She'd kept a proud face always. But now! Lennie gone--what had she? She had nothing. He was all she'd got from life, and now he was took too. Why must it all have happened to me? she wondered. "What have I done?" said old Ma Parker. "What have I done?" + + As she said those words she suddenly let fall her brush. She found herself in the kitchen. Her misery was so terrible that she pinned on her hat, put on her jacket and walked out of the flat like a person in a dream. She did not know what she was doing. She was like a person so dazed by the horror of what has happened that he walks away--anywhere, as though by walking away he could escape... + + It was cold in the street. There was a wind like ice. People went flitting by, very fast; the men walked like scissors; the women trod like cats. And nobody knew--nobody cared. Even if she broke down, if at last, after all these years, she were to cry, she'd find herself in the lock-up as like as not. + + But at the thought of crying it was as though little Lennie leapt in his gran's arms. Ah, that's what she wants to do, my dove. Gran wants to cry. If she could only cry now, cry for a long time, over everything, beginning with her first place and the cruel cook, going on to the doctor's, and then the seven little ones, death of her husband, the children's leaving her, and all the years of misery that led up to Lennie. But to have a proper cry over all these things would take a long time. All the same, the time for it had come. She must do it. She couldn't put it off any longer; she couldn't wait any more...Where could she go? + + "She's had a hard life, has Ma Parker." Yes, a hard life, indeed! Her chin began to tremble; there was no time to lose. But where? Where? + + She couldn't go home; Ethel was there. It would frighten Ethel out of her life. She couldn't sit on a bench anywhere; people would come arsking her questions. She couldn't possibly go back to the gentleman's flat; she had no right to cry in strangers' houses. If she sat on some steps a policeman would speak to her. + + Oh, wasn't there anywhere where she could hide and keep herself to herself and stay as long as she liked, not disturbing anybody, and nobody worrying her? Wasn't there anywhere in the world where she could have her cry out-- at last? + + Ma Parker stood, looking up and down. The icy wind blew out her apron into a balloon. And now it began to rain. There was nowhere. + + + + 7. MARRIAGE A LA MODE. + + On his way to the station William remembered with a fresh pang of disappointment that he was taking nothing down to the kiddies. Poor little chaps! It was hard lines on them. Their first words always were as they ran to greet him, "What have you got for me, daddy?" and he had nothing. He would have to buy them some sweets at the station. But that was what he had done for the past four Saturdays; their faces had fallen last time when they saw the same old boxes produced again. + + And Paddy had said, "I had red ribbing on mine bee-fore!" + + And Johnny had said, "It's always pink on mine. I hate pink." + + But what was William to do? The affair wasn't so easily settled. In the old days, of course, he would have taken a taxi off to a decent toyshop and chosen them something in five minutes. But nowadays they had Russian toys, French toys, Serbian toys--toys from God knows where. It was over a year since Isabel had scrapped the old donkeys and engines and so on because they were so "dreadfully sentimental" and "so appallingly bad for the babies' sense of form." + + "It's so important," the new Isabel had explained, "that they should like the right things from the very beginning. It saves so much time later on. Really, if the poor pets have to spend their infant years staring at these horrors, one can imagine them growing up and asking to be taken to the Royal Academy." + + And she spoke as though a visit to the Royal Academy was certain immediate death to any one... + + "Well, I don't know," said William slowly. "When I was their age I used to go to bed hugging an old towel with a knot in it." + + The new Isabel looked at him, her eyes narrowed, her lips apart. + + "Dear William! I'm sure you did!" She laughed in the new way. + + Sweets it would have to be, however, thought William gloomily, fishing in his pocket for change for the taxi-man. And he saw the kiddies handing the boxes round--they were awfully generous little chaps--while Isabel's precious friends didn't hesitate to help themselves... + + What about fruit? William hovered before a stall just inside the station. What about a melon each? Would they have to share that, too? Or a pineapple, for Pad, and a melon for Johnny? Isabel's friends could hardly go sneaking up to the nursery at the children's meal-times. All the same, as he bought the melon William had a horrible vision of one of Isabel's young poets lapping up a slice, for some reason, behind the nursery door. + + With his two very awkward parcels he strode off to his train. The platform was crowded, the train was in. Doors banged open and shut. There came such a loud hissing from the engine that people looked dazed as they scurried to and fro. William made straight for a first-class smoker, stowed away his suit-case and parcels, and taking a huge wad of papers out of his inner pocket, he flung down in the corner and began to read. + + "Our client moreover is positive...We are inclined to reconsider...in the event of--" Ah, that was better. William pressed back his flattened hair and stretched his legs across the carriage floor. The familiar dull gnawing in his breast quietened down. "With regard to our decision--" He took out a blue pencil and scored a paragraph slowly. + + Two men came in, stepped across him, and made for the farther corner. A young fellow swung his golf clubs into the rack and sat down opposite. The train gave a gentle lurch, they were off. William glanced up and saw the hot, bright station slipping away. A red-faced girl raced along by the carriages, there was something strained and almost desperate in the way she waved and called. "Hysterical!" thought William dully. Then a greasy, black-faced workman at the end of the platform grinned at the passing train. And William thought, "A filthy life!" and went back to his papers. + + When he looked up again there were fields, and beasts standing for shelter under the dark trees. A wide river, with naked children splashing in the shallows, glided into sight and was gone again. The sky shone pale, and one bird drifted high like a dark fleck in a jewel. + + "We have examined our client's correspondence files..." The last sentence he had read echoed in his mind. "We have examined ..." William hung on to that sentence, but it was no good; it snapped in the middle, and the fields, the sky, the sailing bird, the water, all said, "Isabel." The same thing happened every Saturday afternoon. When he was on his way to meet Isabel there began those countless imaginary meetings. She was at the station, standing just a little apart from everybody else; she was sitting in the open taxi outside; she was at the garden gate; walking across the parched grass; at the door, or just inside the hall. + + And her clear, light voice said, "It's William," or "Hillo, William!" or "So William has come!" He touched her cool hand, her cool cheek. + + The exquisite freshness of Isabel! When he had been a little boy, it was his delight to run into the garden after a shower of rain and shake the rose-bush over him. Isabel was that rose-bush, petal-soft, sparkling and cool. And he was still that little boy. But there was no running into the garden now, no laughing and shaking. The dull, persistent gnawing in his breast started again. He drew up his legs, tossed the papers aside, and shut his eyes. + + "What is it, Isabel? What is it?" he said tenderly. They were in their bedroom in the new house. Isabel sat on a painted stool before the dressing-table that was strewn with little black and green boxes. + + "What is what, William?" And she bent forward, and her fine light hair fell over her cheeks. + + "Ah, you know!" He stood in the middle of the room and he felt a stranger. At that Isabel wheeled round quickly and faced him. + + "Oh, William!" she cried imploringly, and she held up the hair-brush: "Please! Please don't be so dreadfully stuffy and--tragic. You're always saying or looking or hinting that I've changed. Just because I've got to know really congenial people, and go about more, and am frightfully keen on--on everything, you behave as though I'd--" Isabel tossed back her hair and laughed--"killed our love or something. It's so awfully absurd"--she bit her lip--"and it's so maddening, William. Even this new house and the servants you grudge me." + + "Isabel!" + + "Yes, yes, it's true in a way," said Isabel quickly. "You think they are another bad sign. Oh, I know you do. I feel it," she said softly, "every time you come up the stairs. But we couldn't have gone on living in that other poky little hole, William. Be practical, at least! Why, there wasn't enough room for the babies even." + + No, it was true. Every morning when he came back from chambers it was to find the babies with Isabel in the back drawing-room. They were having rides on the leopard skin thrown over the sofa back, or they were playing shops with Isabel's desk for a counter, or Pad was sitting on the hearthrug rowing away for dear life with a little brass fire shovel, while Johnny shot at pirates with the tongs. Every evening they each had a pick-a-back up the narrow stairs to their fat old Nanny. + + Yes, he supposed it was a poky little house. A little white house with blue curtains and a window-box of petunias. William met their friends at the door with "Seen our petunias? Pretty terrific for London, don't you think?" + + But the imbecile thing, the absolutely extraordinary thing was that he hadn't the slightest idea that Isabel wasn't as happy as he. God, what blindness! He hadn't the remotest notion in those days that she really hated that inconvenient little house, that she thought the fat Nanny was ruining the babies, that she was desperately lonely, pining for new people and new music and pictures and so on. If they hadn't gone to that studio party at Moira Morrison's--if Moira Morrison hadn't said as they were leaving, "I'm going to rescue your wife, selfish man. She's like an exquisite little Titania"--if Isabel hadn't gone with Moira to Paris--if-- if... + + The train stopped at another station. Bettingford. Good heavens! They'd be there in ten minutes. William stuffed that papers back into his pockets; the young man opposite had long since disappeared. Now the other two got out. The late afternoon sun shone on women in cotton frocks and little sunburnt, barefoot children. It blazed on a silky yellow flower with coarse leaves which sprawled over a bank of rock. The air ruffling through the window smelled of the sea. Had Isabel the same crowd with her this week-end, wondered William? + + And he remembered the holidays they used to have, the four of them, with a little farm girl, Rose, to look after the babies. Isabel wore a jersey and her hair in a plait; she looked about fourteen. Lord! how his nose used to peel! And the amount they ate, and the amount they slept in that immense feather bed with their feet locked together...William couldn't help a grim smile as he thought of Isabel's horror if she knew the full extent of his sentimentality. + + ... + + "Hillo, William!" She was at the station after all, standing just as he had imagined, apart from the others, and--William's heart leapt--she was alone. + + "Hallo, Isabel!" William stared. He thought she looked so beautiful that he had to say something, "You look very cool." + + "Do I?" said Isabel. "I don't feel very cool. Come along, your horrid old train is late. The taxi's outside." She put her hand lightly on his arm as they passed the ticket collector. "We've all come to meet you," she said. "But we've left Bobby Kane at the sweet shop, to be called for." + + "Oh!" said William. It was all he could say for the moment. + + There in the glare waited the taxi, with Bill Hunt and Dennis Green sprawling on one side, their hats tilted over their faces, while on the other, Moira Morrison, in a bonnet like a huge strawberry, jumped up and down. + + "No ice! No ice! No ice!" she shouted gaily. + + And Dennis chimed in from under his hat. "Only to be had from the fishmonger's." + + And Bill Hunt, emerging, added, "With whole fish in it." + + "Oh, what a bore!" wailed Isabel. And she explained to William how they had been chasing round the town for ice while she waited for him. "Simply everything is running down the steep cliffs into the sea, beginning with the butter." + + "We shall have to anoint ourselves with butter," said Dennis. "May thy head, William, lack not ointment." + + "Look here," said William, "how are we going to sit? I'd better get up by the driver." + + "No, Bobby Kane's by the driver," said Isabel. "You're to sit between Moira and me." The taxi started. "What have you got in those mysterious parcels?" + + "De-cap-it-ated heads!" said Bill Hunt, shuddering beneath his hat. + + "Oh, fruit!" Isabel sounded very pleased. "Wise William! A melon and a pineapple. How too nice!" + + "No, wait a bit," said William, smiling. But he really was anxious. "I brought them down for the kiddies." + + "Oh, my dear!" Isabel laughed, and slipped her hand through his arm. "They'd be rolling in agonies if they were to eat them. No"--she patted his hand--"you must bring them something next time. I refuse to part with my pineapple." + + "Cruel Isabel! Do let me smell it!" said Moira. She flung her arms across William appealingly. "Oh!" The strawberry bonnet fell forward: she sounded quite faint. + + "A Lady in Love with a Pineapple," said Dennis, as the taxi drew up before a little shop with a striped blind. Out came Bobby Kane, his arms full of little packets. + + "I do hope they'll be good. I've chosen them because of the colours. There are some round things which really look too divine. And just look at this nougat," he cried ecstatically, "just look at it! It's a perfect little ballet." + + But at that moment the shopman appeared. "Oh, I forgot. They're none of them paid for," said Bobby, looking frightened. Isabel gave the shopman a note, and Bobby was radiant again. "Hallo, William! I'm sitting by the driver." And bareheaded, all in white, with his sleeves rolled up to the shoulders, he leapt into his place. "Avanti!" he cried... + + After tea the others went off to bathe, while William stayed and made his peace with the kiddies. But Johnny and Paddy were asleep, the rose-red glow had paled, bats were flying, and still the bathers had not returned. As William wandered downstairs, the maid crossed the hall carrying a lamp. He followed her into the sitting-room. It was a long room, coloured yellow. On the wall opposite William some one had painted a young man, over life-size, with very wobbly legs, offering a wide-eyed daisy to a young woman who had one very short arm and one very long, thin one. Over the chairs and sofa there hung strips of black material, covered with big splashes like broken eggs, and everywhere one looked there seemed to be an ash-tray full of cigarette ends. William sat down in one of the arm- chairs. Nowadays, when one felt with one hand down the sides, it wasn't to come upon a sheep with three legs or a cow that had lost one horn, or a very fat dove out of the Noah's Ark. One fished up yet another little paper-covered book of smudged-looking poems...He thought of the wad of papers in his pocket, but he was too hungry and tired to read. The door was open; sounds came from the kitchen. The servants were talking as if they were alone in the house. Suddenly there came a loud screech of laughter and an equally loud "Sh!" They had remembered him. William got up and went through the French windows into the garden, and as he stood there in the shadow he heard the bathers coming up the sandy road; their voices rang through the quiet. + + "I think its up to Moira to use her little arts and wiles." + + A tragic moan from Moira. + + "We ought to have a gramophone for the weekends that played 'The Maid of the Mountains.'" + + "Oh no! Oh no!" cried Isabel's voice. "That's not fair to William. Be nice to him, my children! He's only staying until to-morrow evening." + + "Leave him to me," cried Bobby Kane. "I'm awfully good at looking after people." + + The gate swung open and shut. William moved on the terrace; they had seen him. "Hallo, William!" And Bobby Kane, flapping his towel, began to leap and pirouette on the parched lawn. "Pity you didn't come, William. The water was divine. And we all went to a little pub afterwards and had sloe gin." + + The others had reached the house. "I say, Isabel," called Bobby, "would you like me to wear my Nijinsky dress to-night?" + + "No," said Isabel, "nobody's going to dress. We're all starving. William's starving, too. Come along, mes amis, let's begin with sardines." + + "I've found the sardines," said Moira, and she ran into the hall, holding a box high in the air. + + "A Lady with a Box of Sardines," said Dennis gravely. + + "Well, William, and how's London?" asked Bill Hunt, drawing the cork out of a bottle of whisky. + + "Oh, London's not much changed," answered William. + + "Good old London," said Bobby, very hearty, spearing a sardine. + + But a moment later William was forgotten. Moira Morrison began wondering what colour one's legs really were under water. + + "Mine are the palest, palest mushroom colour." + + Bill and Dennis ate enormously. And Isabel filled glasses, and changed plates, and found matches, smiling blissfully. At one moment, she said, "I do wish, Bill, you'd paint it." + + "Paint what?" said Bill loudly, stuffing his mouth with bread. + + "Us," said Isabel, "round the table. It would be so fascinating in twenty years' time." + + Bill screwed up his eyes and chewed. "Light's wrong," he said rudely, "far too much yellow"; and went on eating. And that seemed to charm Isabel, too. + + But after supper they were all so tired they could do nothing but yawn until it was late enough to go to bed... + + It was not until William was waiting for his taxi the next afternoon that he found himself alone with Isabel. When he brought his suit-case down into the hall, Isabel left the others and went over to him. She stooped down and picked up the suit-case. "What a weight!" she said, and she gave a little awkward laugh. "Let me carry it! To the gate." + + "No, why should you?" said William. "Of course, not. Give it to me." + + "Oh, please, do let me," said Isabel. "I want to, really." They walked together silently. William felt there was nothing to say now. + + "There," said Isabel triumphantly, setting the suit-case down, and she looked anxiously along the sandy road. "I hardly seem to have seen you this time," she said breathlessly. "It's so short, isn't it? I feel you've only just come. Next time--" The taxi came into sight. "I hope they look after you properly in London. I'm so sorry the babies have been out all day, but Miss Neil had arranged it. They'll hate missing you. Poor William, going back to London." The taxi turned. "Good-bye!" She gave him a little hurried kiss; she was gone. + + Fields, trees, hedges streamed by. They shook through the empty, blind- looking little town, ground up the steep pull to the station. + + The train was in. William made straight for a first-class smoker, flung back into the corner, but this time he let the papers alone. He folded his arms against the dull, persistent gnawing, and began in his mind to write a letter to Isabel. + + ... + + The post was late as usual. They sat outside the house in long chairs under coloured parasols. Only Bobby Kane lay on the turf at Isabel's feet. It was dull, stifling; the day drooped like a flag. + + "Do you think there will be Mondays in Heaven?" asked Bobby childishly. + + And Dennis murmured, "Heaven will be one long Monday." + + But Isabel couldn't help wondering what had happened to the salmon they had for supper last night. She had meant to have fish mayonnaise for lunch and now... + + Moira was asleep. Sleeping was her latest discovery. "It's so wonderful. One simply shuts one's eyes, that's all. It's so delicious." + + When the old ruddy postman came beating along the sandy road on his tricycle one felt the handle-bars ought to have been oars. + + Bill Hunt put down his book. "Letters," he said complacently, and they all waited. But, heartless postman--O malignant world! There was only one, a fat one for Isabel. Not even a paper. + + "And mine's only from William," said Isabel mournfully. + + "From William--already?" + + "He's sending you back your marriage lines as a gentle reminder." + + "Does everybody have marriage lines? I thought they were only for servants." + + "Pages and pages! Look at her! A Lady reading a Letter," said Dennis. + + "My darling, precious Isabel." Pages and pages there were. As Isabel read on her feeling of astonishment changed to a stifled feeling. What on earth had induced William ...? How extraordinary it was...What could have made him ...? She felt confused, more and more excited, even frightened. It was just like William. Was it? It was absurd, of course, it must be absurd, ridiculous. "Ha, ha, ha! Oh dear!" What was she to do? Isabel flung back in her chair and laughed till she couldn't stop laughing. + + "Do, do tell us," said the others. "You must tell us." + + "I'm longing to," gurgled Isabel. She sat up, gathered the letter, and waved it at them. "Gather round," she said. "Listen, it's too marvellous. A love-letter!" + + "A love-letter! But how divine!" "Darling, precious Isabel." But she had hardly begun before their laughter interrupted her. + + "Go on, Isabel, it's perfect." + + "It's the most marvellous find." + + "Oh, do go on, Isabel!" + + "God forbid, my darling, that I should be a drag on your happiness." + + "Oh! oh! oh!" + + "Sh! sh! sh!" + + And Isabel went on. When she reached the end they were hysterical: Bobby rolled on the turf and almost sobbed. + + "You must let me have it just as it is, entire, for my new book," said Dennis firmly. "I shall give it a whole chapter." + + "Oh, Isabel," moaned Moira, "that wonderful bit about holding you in his arms!" + + "I always thought those letters in divorce cases were made up. But they pale before this." + + "Let me hold it. Let me read it, mine own self," said Bobby Kane. + + But, to their surprise, Isabel crushed the letter in her hand. She was laughing no longer. She glanced quickly at them all; she looked exhausted. "No, not just now. Not just now," she stammered. + + And before they could recover she had run into the house, through the hall, up the stairs into her bedroom. Down she sat on the side of the bed. "How vile, odious, abominable, vulgar," muttered Isabel. She pressed her eyes with her knuckles and rocked to and fro. And again she saw them, but not four, more like forty, laughing, sneering, jeering, stretching out their hands while she read them William's letter. Oh, what a loathsome thing to have done. How could she have done it! "God forbid, my darling, that I should be a drag on your happiness." William! Isabel pressed her face into the pillow. But she felt that even the grave bedroom knew her for what she was, shallow, tinkling, vain... + + Presently from the garden below there came voices. + + "Isabel, we're all going for a bathe. Do come!" + + "Come, thou wife of William!" + + "Call her once before you go, call once yet!" + + Isabel sat up. Now was the moment, now she must decide. Would she go with them, or stay here and write to William. Which, which should it be? "I must make up my mind." Oh, but how could there be any question? Of course she would stay here and write. + + "Titania!" piped Moira. + + "Isa-bel?" + + No, it was too difficult. "I'll--I'll go with them, and write to William later. Some other time. Later. Not now. But I shall certainly write," thought Isabel hurriedly. + + And, laughing, in the new way, she ran down the stairs. + + + + 8. THE VOYAGE. + + The Picton boat was due to leave at half-past eleven. It was a beautiful night, mild, starry, only when they got out of the cab and started to walk down the Old Wharf that jutted out into the harbour, a faint wind blowing off the water ruffled under Fenella's hat, and she put up her hand to keep it on. It was dark on the Old Wharf, very dark; the wool sheds, the cattle trucks, the cranes standing up so high, the little squat railway engine, all seemed carved out of solid darkness. Here and there on a rounded wood- pile, that was like the stalk of a huge black mushroom, there hung a lantern, but it seemed afraid to unfurl its timid, quivering light in all that blackness; it burned softly, as if for itself. + + Fenella's father pushed on with quick, nervous strides. Beside him her grandma bustled along in her crackling black ulster; they went so fast that she had now and again to give an undignified little skip to keep up with them. As well as her luggage strapped into a neat sausage, Fenella carried clasped to her her grandma's umbrella, and the handle, which was a swan's head, kept giving her shoulder a sharp little peck as if it too wanted her to hurry...Men, their caps pulled down, their collars turned up, swung by; a few women all muffled scurried along; and one tiny boy, only his little black arms and legs showing out of a white woolly shawl, was jerked along angrily between his father and mother; he looked like a baby fly that had fallen into the cream. + + Then suddenly, so suddenly that Fenella and her grandma both leapt, there sounded from behind the largest wool shed, that had a trail of smoke hanging over it, "Mia-oo-oo-O-O!" + + "First whistle," said her father briefly, and at that moment they came in sight of the Picton boat. Lying beside the dark wharf, all strung, all beaded with round golden lights, the Picton boat looked as if she was more ready to sail among stars than out into the cold sea. People pressed along the gangway. First went her grandma, then her father, then Fenella. There was a high step down on to the deck, and an old sailor in a jersey standing by gave her his dry, hard hand. They were there; they stepped out of the way of the hurrying people, and standing under a little iron stairway that led to the upper deck they began to say good-bye. + + "There, mother, there's your luggage!" said Fenella's father, giving grandma another strapped-up sausage. + + "Thank you, Frank." + + "And you've got your cabin tickets safe?" + + "Yes, dear." + + "And your other tickets?" + + Grandma felt for them inside her glove and showed him the tips. + + "That's right." + + He sounded stern, but Fenella, eagerly watching him, saw that he looked tired and sad. "Mia-oo-oo-O-O!" The second whistle blared just above their heads, and a voice like a cry shouted, "Any more for the gangway?" + + "You'll give my love to father," Fenella saw her father's lips say. And her grandma, very agitated, answered, "Of course I will, dear. Go now. You'll be left. Go now, Frank. Go now." + + "It's all right, mother. I've got another three minutes." To her surprise Fenella saw her father take off his hat. He clasped grandma in his arms and pressed her to him. "God bless you, mother!" she heard him say. + + And grandma put her hand, with the black thread glove that was worn through on her ring finger, against his cheek, and she sobbed, "God bless you, my own brave son!" + + This was so awful that Fenella quickly turned her back on them, swallowed once, twice, and frowned terribly at a little green star on a mast head. But she had to turn round again; her father was going. + + "Good-bye, Fenella. Be a good girl." His cold, wet moustache brushed her cheek. But Fenella caught hold of the lapels of his coat. + + "How long am I going to stay?" she whispered anxiously. He wouldn't look at her. He shook her off gently, and gently said, "We'll see about that. Here! Where's your hand?" He pressed something into her palm. "Here's a shilling in case you should need it." + + A shilling! She must be going away for ever! "Father!" cried Fenella. But he was gone. He was the last off the ship. The sailors put their shoulders to the gangway. A huge coil of dark rope went flying through the air and fell "thump" on the wharf. A bell rang; a whistle shrilled. Silently the dark wharf began to slip, to slide, to edge away from them. Now there was a rush of water between. Fenella strained to see with all her might. "Was that father turning round?"--or waving?--or standing alone?--or walking off by himself? The strip of water grew broader, darker. Now the Picton boat began to swing round steady, pointing out to sea. It was no good looking any longer. There was nothing to be seen but a few lights, the face of the town clock hanging in the air, and more lights, little patches of them, on the dark hills. + + The freshening wind tugged at Fenella's skirts; she went back to her grandma. To her relief grandma seemed no longer sad. She had put the two sausages of luggage one on top of the other, and she was sitting on them, her hands folded, her head a little on one side. There was an intent, bright look on her face. Then Fenella saw that her lips were moving and guessed that she was praying. But the old woman gave her a bright nod as if to say the prayer was nearly over. She unclasped her hands, sighed, clasped them again, bent forward, and at last gave herself a soft shake. + + "And now, child," she said, fingering the bow of her bonnet-strings, "I think we ought to see about our cabins. Keep close to me, and mind you don't slip." + + "Yes, grandma!" + + "And be careful the umbrellas aren't caught in the stair rail. I saw a beautiful umbrella broken in half like that on my way over." + + "Yes, grandma." + + Dark figures of men lounged against the rails. In the glow of their pipes a nose shone out, or the peak of a cap, or a pair of surprised-looking eyebrows. Fenella glanced up. High in the air, a little figure, his hands thrust in his short jacket pockets, stood staring out to sea. The ship rocked ever so little, and she thought the stars rocked too. And now a pale steward in a linen coat, holding a tray high in the palm of his hand, stepped out of a lighted doorway and skimmed past them. They went through that doorway. Carefully over the high brass-bound step on to the rubber mat and then down such a terribly steep flight of stairs that grandma had to put both feet on each step, and Fenella clutched the clammy brass rail and forgot all about the swan-necked umbrella. + + At the bottom grandma stopped; Fenella was rather afraid she was going to pray again. But no, it was only to get out the cabin tickets. They were in the saloon. It was glaring bright and stifling; the air smelled of paint and burnt chop-bones and indiarubber. Fenella wished her grandma would go on, but the old woman was not to be hurried. An immense basket of ham sandwiches caught her eye. She went up to them and touched the top one delicately with her finger. + + "How much are the sandwiches?" she asked. + + "Tuppence!" bawled a rude steward, slamming down a knife and fork. + + Grandma could hardly believe it. + + "Twopence each?" she asked. + + "That's right," said the steward, and he winked at his companion. + + Grandma made a small, astonished face. Then she whispered primly to Fenella. "What wickedness!" And they sailed out at the further door and along a passage that had cabins on either side. Such a very nice stewardess came to meet them. She was dressed all in blue, and her collar and cuffs were fastened with large brass buttons. She seemed to know grandma well. + + "Well, Mrs. Crane," said she, unlocking their washstand. "We've got you back again. It's not often you give yourself a cabin." + + "No," said grandma. "But this time my dear son's thoughtfulness--" + + "I hope--" began the stewardess. Then she turned round and took a long, mournful look at grandma's blackness and at Fenella's black coat and skirt, black blouse, and hat with a crape rose. + + Grandma nodded. "It was God's will," said she. + + The stewardess shut her lips and, taking a deep breath, she seemed to expand. + + "What I always say is," she said, as though it was her own discovery, "sooner or later each of us has to go, and that's a certingty." She paused. "Now, can I bring you anything, Mrs Crane? A cup of tea? I know it's no good offering you a little something to keep the cold out." + + Grandma shook her head. "Nothing, thank you. We've got a few wine biscuits, and Fenella has a very nice banana." + + "Then I'll give you a look later on," said the stewardess, and she went out, shutting the door. + + What a very small cabin it was! It was like being shut up in a box with grandma. The dark round eye above the washstand gleamed at them dully. Fenella felt shy. She stood against the door, still clasping her luggage and the umbrella. Were they going to get undressed in here? Already her grandma had taken off her bonnet, and, rolling up the strings, she fixed each with a pin to the lining before she hung the bonnet up. Her white hair shone like silk; the little bun at the back was covered with a black net. Fenella hardly ever saw her grandma with her head uncovered; she looked strange. + + "I shall put on the woollen fascinator your dear mother crocheted for me," said grandma, and, unstrapping the sausage, she took it out and wound it round her head; the fringe of grey bobbles danced at her eyebrows as she smiled tenderly and mournfully at Fenella. Then she undid her bodice, and something under that, and something else underneath that. Then there seemed a short, sharp tussle, and grandma flushed faintly. Snip! Snap! She had undone her stays. She breathed a sigh of relief, and sitting on the plush couch, she slowly and carefully pulled off her elastic-sided boots and stood them side by side. + + By the time Fenella had taken off her coat and skirt and put on her flannel dressing-gown grandma was quite ready. + + "Must I take off my boots, grandma? They're lace." + + Grandma gave them a moment's deep consideration. "You'd feel a great deal more comfortable if you did, child," said she. She kissed Fenella. "Don't forget to say your prayers. Our dear Lord is with us when we are at sea even more than when we are on dry land. And because I am an experienced traveller," said grandma briskly, "I shall take the upper berth." + + "But, grandma, however will you get up there?" + + Three little spider-like steps were all Fenella saw. The old woman gave a small silent laugh before she mounted them nimbly, and she peered over the high bunk at the astonished Fenella. + + "You didn't think your grandma could do that, did you?" said she. And as she sank back Fenella heard her light laugh again. + + The hard square of brown soap would not lather, and the water in the bottle was like a kind of blue jelly. How hard it was, too, to turn down those stiff sheets; you simply had to tear your way in. If everything had been different, Fenella might have got the giggles...At last she was inside, and while she lay there panting, there sounded from above a long, soft whispering, as though some one was gently, gently rustling among tissue paper to find something. It was grandma saying her prayers... + + A long time passed. Then the stewardess came in; she trod softly and leaned her hand on grandma's bunk. + + "We're just entering the Straits," she said. + + "Oh!" + + "It's a fine night, but we're rather empty. We may pitch a little." + + And indeed at that moment the Picton Boat rose and rose and hung in the air just long enough to give a shiver before she swung down again, and there was the sound of heavy water slapping against her sides. Fenella remembered she had left the swan-necked umbrella standing up on the little couch. If it fell over, would it break? But grandma remembered too, at the same time. + + "I wonder if you'd mind, stewardess, laying down my umbrella," she whispered. + + "Not at all, Mrs. Crane." And the stewardess, coming back to grandma, breathed, "Your little granddaughter's in such a beautiful sleep." + + "God be praised for that!" said grandma. + + "Poor little motherless mite!" said the stewardess. And grandma was still telling the stewardess all about what happened when Fenella fell asleep. + + But she hadn't been asleep long enough to dream before she woke up again to see something waving in the air above her head. What was it? What could it be? It was a small grey foot. Now another joined it. They seemed to be feeling about for something; there came a sigh. + + "I'm awake, grandma," said Fenella. + + "Oh, dear, am I near the ladder?" asked grandma. "I thought it was this end." + + "No, grandma, it's the other. I'll put your foot on it. Are we there?" asked Fenella. + + "In the harbour," said grandma. "We must get up, child. You'd better have a biscuit to steady yourself before you move." + + But Fenella had hopped out of her bunk. The lamp was still burning, but night was over, and it was cold. Peering through that round eye she could see far off some rocks. Now they were scattered over with foam; now a gull flipped by; and now there came a long piece of real land. + + "It's land, grandma," said Fenella, wonderingly, as though they had been at sea for weeks together. She hugged herself; she stood on one leg and rubbed it with the toes of the other foot; she was trembling. Oh, it had all been so sad lately. Was it going to change? But all her grandma said was, "Make haste, child. I should leave your nice banana for the stewardess as you haven't eaten it." And Fenella put on her black clothes again and a button sprang off one of her gloves and rolled to where she couldn't reach it. They went up on deck. + + But if it had been cold in the cabin, on deck it was like ice. The sun was not up yet, but the stars were dim, and the cold pale sky was the same colour as the cold pale sea. On the land a white mist rose and fell. Now they could see quite plainly dark bush. Even the shapes of the umbrella ferns showed, and those strange silvery withered trees that are like skeletons...Now they could see the landing-stage and some little houses, pale too, clustered together, like shells on the lid of a box. The other passengers tramped up and down, but more slowly than they had the night before, and they looked gloomy. + + And now the landing-stage came out to meet them. Slowly it swam towards the Picton boat, and a man holding a coil of rope, and a cart with a small drooping horse and another man sitting on the step, came too. + + "It's Mr. Penreddy, Fenella, come for us," said grandma. She sounded pleased. Her white waxen cheeks were blue with cold, her chin trembled, and she had to keep wiping her eyes and her little pink nose. + + "You've got my--" + + "Yes, grandma." Fenella showed it to her. + + The rope came flying through the air, and "smack" it fell on to the deck. The gangway was lowered. Again Fenella followed her grandma on to the wharf over to the little cart, and a moment later they were bowling away. The hooves of the little horse drummed over the wooden piles, then sank softly into the sandy road. Not a soul was to be seen; there was not even a feather of smoke. The mist rose and fell and the sea still sounded asleep as slowly it turned on the beach. + + "I seen Mr. Crane yestiddy," said Mr. Penreddy. "He looked himself then. Missus knocked him up a batch of scones last week." + + And now the little horse pulled up before one of the shell-like houses. They got down. Fenella put her hand on the gate, and the big, trembling dew-drops soaked through her glove-tips. Up a little path of round white pebbles they went, with drenched sleeping flowers on either side. Grandma's delicate white picotees were so heavy with dew that they were fallen, but their sweet smell was part of the cold morning. The blinds were down in the little house; they mounted the steps on to the veranda. A pair of old bluchers was on one side of the door, and a large red watering- can on the other. + + "Tut! tut! Your grandpa," said grandma. She turned the handle. Not a sound. She called, "Walter!" And immediately a deep voice that sounded half stifled called back, "Is that you, Mary?" + + "Wait, dear," said grandma. "Go in there." She pushed Fenella gently into a small dusky sitting-room. + + On the table a white cat, that had been folded up like a camel, rose, stretched itself, yawned, and then sprang on to the tips of its toes. Fenella buried one cold little hand in the white, warm fur, and smiled timidly while she stroked and listened to grandma's gentle voice and the rolling tones of grandpa. + + A door creaked. "Come in, dear." The old woman beckoned, Fenella followed. There, lying to one side on an immense bed, lay grandpa. Just his head with a white tuft and his rosy face and long silver beard showed over the quilt. He was like a very old wide-awake bird. + + "Well, my girl!" said grandpa. "Give us a kiss!" Fenella kissed him. "Ugh!" said grandpa. "Her little nose is as cold as a button. What's that she's holding? Her grandma's umbrella?" + + Fenella smiled again, and crooked the swan neck over the bed-rail. Above the bed there was a big text in a deep black frame:-- + + "Lost! One Golden Hour Set with Sixty Diamond Minutes. No Reward Is Offered For It Is Gone For Ever!" + + "Yer grandma painted that," said grandpa. And he ruffled his white tuft and looked at Fenella so merrily she almost thought he winked at her. + + + + 9. MISS BRILL. + + Although it was so brilliantly fine--the blue sky powdered with gold and great spots of light like white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques-- Miss Brill was glad that she had decided on her fur. The air was motionless, but when you opened your mouth there was just a faint chill, like a chill from a glass of iced water before you sip, and now and again a leaf came drifting--from nowhere, from the sky. Miss Brill put up her hand and touched her fur. Dear little thing! It was nice to feel it again. She had taken it out of its box that afternoon, shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been happening to me?" said the sad little eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap at her again from the red eiderdown!...But the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all firm. It must have had a knock, somehow. Never mind--a little dab of black sealing-wax when the time came--when it was absolutely necessary...Little rogue! Yes, she really felt like that about it. Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear. She could have taken it off and laid it on her lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but that came from walking, she supposed. And when she breathed, something light and sad--no, not sad, exactly--something gentle seemed to move in her bosom. + + There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than last Sunday. And the band sounded louder and gayer. That was because the Season had begun. For although the band played all the year round on Sundays, out of season it was never the same. It was like some one playing with only the family to listen; it didn't care how it played if there weren't any strangers present. Wasn't the conductor wearing a new coat, too? She was sure it was new. He scraped with his foot and flapped his arms like a rooster about to crow, and the bandsmen sitting in the green rotunda blew out their cheeks and glared at the music. Now there came a little "flutey" bit--very pretty!--a little chain of bright drops. She was sure it would be repeated. It was; she lifted her head and smiled. + + Only two people shared her "special" seat: a fine old man in a velvet coat, his hands clasped over a huge carved walking-stick, and a big old woman, sitting upright, with a roll of knitting on her embroidered apron. They did not speak. This was disappointing, for Miss Brill always looked forward to the conversation. She had become really quite expert, she thought, at listening as though she didn't listen, at sitting in other people's lives just for a minute while they talked round her. + + She glanced, sideways, at the old couple. Perhaps they would go soon. Last Sunday, too, hadn't been as interesting as usual. An Englishman and his wife, he wearing a dreadful Panama hat and she button boots. And she'd gone on the whole time about how she ought to wear spectacles; she knew she needed them; but that it was no good getting any; they'd be sure to break and they'd never keep on. And he'd been so patient. He'd suggested everything--gold rims, the kind that curved round your ears, little pads inside the bridge. No, nothing would please her. "They'll always be sliding down my nose!" Miss Brill had wanted to shake her. + + The old people sat on the bench, still as statues. Never mind, there was always the crowd to watch. To and fro, in front of the flower-beds and the band rotunda, the couples and groups paraded, stopped to talk, to greet, to buy a handful of flowers from the old beggar who had his tray fixed to the railings. Little children ran among them, swooping and laughing; little boys with big white silk bows under their chins, little girls, little French dolls, dressed up in velvet and lace. And sometimes a tiny staggerer came suddenly rocking into the open from under the trees, stopped, stared, as suddenly sat down "flop," until its small high-stepping mother, like a young hen, rushed scolding to its rescue. Other people sat on the benches and green chairs, but they were nearly always the same, Sunday after Sunday, and--Miss Brill had often noticed--there was something funny about nearly all of them. They were odd, silent, nearly all old, and from the way they stared they looked as though they'd just come from dark little rooms or even--even cupboards! + + Behind the rotunda the slender trees with yellow leaves down drooping, and through them just a line of sea, and beyond the blue sky with gold-veined clouds. + + Tum-tum-tum tiddle-um! tiddle-um! tum tiddley-um tum ta! blew the band. + + Two young girls in red came by and two young soldiers in blue met them, and they laughed and paired and went off arm-in-arm. Two peasant women with funny straw hats passed, gravely, leading beautiful smoke-coloured donkeys. A cold, pale nun hurried by. A beautiful woman came along and dropped her bunch of violets, and a little boy ran after to hand them to her, and she took them and threw them away as if they'd been poisoned. Dear me! Miss Brill didn't know whether to admire that or not! And now an ermine toque and a gentleman in grey met just in front of her. He was tall, stiff, dignified, and she was wearing the ermine toque she'd bought when her hair was yellow. Now everything, her hair, her face, even her eyes, was the same colour as the shabby ermine, and her hand, in its cleaned glove, lifted to dab her lips, was a tiny yellowish paw. Oh, she was so pleased to see him--delighted! She rather thought they were going to meet that afternoon. She described where she'd been--everywhere, here, there, along by the sea. The day was so charming--didn't he agree? And wouldn't he, perhaps?...But he shook his head, lighted a cigarette, slowly breathed a great deep puff into her face, and even while she was still talking and laughing, flicked the match away and walked on. The ermine toque was alone; she smiled more brightly than ever. But even the band seemed to know what she was feeling and played more softly, played tenderly, and the drum beat, "The Brute! The Brute!" over and over. What would she do? What was going to happen now? But as Miss Brill wondered, the ermine toque turned, raised her hand as though she'd seen some one else, much nicer, just over there, and pattered away. And the band changed again and played more quickly, more gayly than ever, and the old couple on Miss Brill's seat got up and marched away, and such a funny old man with long whiskers hobbled along in time to the music and was nearly knocked over by four girls walking abreast. + + Oh, how fascinating it was! How she enjoyed it! How she loved sitting here, watching it all! It was like a play. It was exactly like a play. Who could believe the sky at the back wasn't painted? But it wasn't till a little brown dog trotted on solemn and then slowly trotted off, like a little "theatre" dog, a little dog that had been drugged, that Miss Brill discovered what it was that made it so exciting. They were all on the stage. They weren't only the audience, not only looking on; they were acting. Even she had a part and came every Sunday. No doubt somebody would have noticed if she hadn't been there; she was part of the performance after all. How strange she'd never thought of it like that before! And yet it explained why she made such a point of starting from home at just the same time each week--so as not to be late for the performance--and it also explained why she had quite a queer, shy feeling at telling her English pupils how she spent her Sunday afternoons. No wonder! Miss Brill nearly laughed out loud. She was on the stage. She thought of the old invalid gentleman to whom she read the newspaper four afternoons a week while he slept in the garden. She had got quite used to the frail head on the cotton pillow, the hollowed eyes, the open mouth and the high pinched nose. If he'd been dead she mightn't have noticed for weeks; she wouldn't have minded. But suddenly he knew he was having the paper read to him by an actress! "An actress!" The old head lifted; two points of light quivered in the old eyes. "An actress--are ye?" And Miss Brill smoothed the newspaper as though it were the manuscript of her part and said gently; "Yes, I have been an actress for a long time." + + The band had been having a rest. Now they started again. And what they played was warm, sunny, yet there was just a faint chill--a something, what was it?--not sadness--no, not sadness--a something that made you want to sing. The tune lifted, lifted, the light shone; and it seemed to Miss Brill that in another moment all of them, all the whole company, would begin singing. The young ones, the laughing ones who were moving together, they would begin, and the men's voices, very resolute and brave, would join them. And then she too, she too, and the others on the benches--they would come in with a kind of accompaniment--something low, that scarcely rose or fell, something so beautiful--moving...And Miss Brill's eyes filled with tears and she looked smiling at all the other members of the company. Yes, we understand, we understand, she thought--though what they understood she didn't know. + + Just at that moment a boy and girl came and sat down where the old couple had been. They were beautifully dressed; they were in love. The hero and heroine, of course, just arrived from his father's yacht. And still soundlessly singing, still with that trembling smile, Miss Brill prepared to listen. + + "No, not now," said the girl. "Not here, I can't." + + "But why? Because of that stupid old thing at the end there?" asked the boy. "Why does she come here at all--who wants her? Why doesn't she keep her silly old mug at home?" + + "It's her fu-ur which is so funny," giggled the girl. "It's exactly like a fried whiting." + + "Ah, be off with you!" said the boy in an angry whisper. Then: "Tell me, ma petite chere--" + + "No, not here," said the girl. "Not yet." + + ... On her way home she usually bought a slice of honey-cake at the baker's. It was her Sunday treat. Sometimes there was an almond in her slice, sometimes not. It made a great difference. If there was an almond it was like carrying home a tiny present--a surprise--something that might very well not have been there. She hurried on the almond Sundays and struck the match for the kettle in quite a dashing way. + + But to-day she passed the baker's by, climbed the stairs, went into the little dark room--her room like a cupboard--and sat down on the red eiderdown. She sat there for a long time. The box that the fur came out of was on the bed. She unclasped the necklet quickly; quickly, without looking, laid it inside. But when she put the lid on she thought she heard something crying. + + + + 10. HER FIRST BALL. + + Exactly when the ball began Leila would have found it hard to say. Perhaps her first real partner was the cab. It did not matter that she shared the cab with the Sheridan girls and their brother. She sat back in her own little corner of it, and the bolster on which her hand rested felt like the sleeve of an unknown young man's dress suit; and away they bowled, past waltzing lamp-posts and houses and fences and trees. + + "Have you really never been to a ball before, Leila? But, my child, how too weird--" cried the Sheridan girls. + + "Our nearest neighbour was fifteen miles," said Leila softly, gently opening and shutting her fan. + + Oh dear, how hard it was to be indifferent like the others! She tried not to smile too much; she tried not to care. But every single thing was so new and exciting ...Meg's tuberoses, Jose's long loop of amber, Laura's little dark head, pushing above her white fur like a flower through snow. She would remember for ever. It even gave her a pang to see her cousin Laurie throw away the wisps of tissue paper he pulled from the fastenings of his new gloves. She would like to have kept those wisps as a keepsake, as a remembrance. Laurie leaned forward and put his hand on Laura's knee. + + "Look here, darling," he said. "The third and the ninth as usual. Twig?" + + Oh, how marvellous to have a brother! In her excitement Leila felt that if there had been time, if it hadn't been impossible, she couldn't have helped crying because she was an only child, and no brother had ever said "Twig?" to her; no sister would ever say, as Meg said to Jose that moment, "I've never known your hair go up more successfully than it has to-night!" + + But, of course, there was no time. They were at the drill hall already; there were cabs in front of them and cabs behind. The road was bright on either side with moving fan-like lights, and on the pavement gay couples seemed to float through the air; little satin shoes chased each other like birds. + + "Hold on to me, Leila; you'll get lost," said Laura. + + "Come on, girls, let's make a dash for it," said Laurie. + + Leila put two fingers on Laura's pink velvet cloak, and they were somehow lifted past the big golden lantern, carried along the passage, and pushed into the little room marked "Ladies." Here the crowd was so great there was hardly space to take off their things; the noise was deafening. Two benches on either side were stacked high with wraps. Two old women in white aprons ran up and down tossing fresh armfuls. And everybody was pressing forward trying to get at the little dressing-table and mirror at the far end. + + A great quivering jet of gas lighted the ladies' room. It couldn't wait; it was dancing already. When the door opened again and there came a burst of tuning from the drill hall, it leaped almost to the ceiling. + + Dark girls, fair girls were patting their hair, tying ribbons again, tucking handkerchiefs down the fronts of their bodices, smoothing marble- white gloves. And because they were all laughing it seemed to Leila that they were all lovely. + + "Aren't there any invisible hair-pins?" cried a voice. "How most extraordinary! I can't see a single invisible hair-pin." + + "Powder my back, there's a darling," cried some one else. + + "But I must have a needle and cotton. I've torn simply miles and miles of the frill," wailed a third. + + Then, "Pass them along, pass them along!" The straw basket of programmes was tossed from arm to arm. Darling little pink-and-silver programmes, with pink pencils and fluffy tassels. Leila's fingers shook as she took one out of the basket. She wanted to ask some one, "Am I meant to have one too?" but she had just time to read: "Waltz 3. 'Two, Two in a Canoe.' Polka 4. 'Making the Feathers Fly,'" when Meg cried, "Ready, Leila?" and they pressed their way through the crush in the passage towards the big double doors of the drill hall. + + Dancing had not begun yet, but the band had stopped tuning, and the noise was so great it seemed that when it did begin to play it would never be heard. Leila, pressing close to Meg, looking over Meg's shoulder, felt that even the little quivering coloured flags strung across the ceiling were talking. She quite forgot to be shy; she forgot how in the middle of dressing she had sat down on the bed with one shoe off and one shoe on and begged her mother to ring up her cousins and say she couldn't go after all. And the rush of longing she had had to be sitting on the veranda of their forsaken up-country home, listening to the baby owls crying "More pork" in the moonlight, was changed to a rush of joy so sweet that it was hard to bear alone. She clutched her fan, and, gazing at the gleaming, golden floor, the azaleas, the lanterns, the stage at one end with its red carpet and gilt chairs and the band in a corner, she thought breathlessly, "How heavenly; how simply heavenly!" + + All the girls stood grouped together at one side of the doors, the men at the other, and the chaperones in dark dresses, smiling rather foolishly, walked with little careful steps over the polished floor towards the stage. + + "This is my little country cousin Leila. Be nice to her. Find her partners; she's under my wing," said Meg, going up to one girl after another. + + Strange faces smiled at Leila--sweetly, vaguely. Strange voices answered, "Of course, my dear." But Leila felt the girls didn't really see her. They were looking towards the men. Why didn't the men begin? What were they waiting for? There they stood, smoothing their gloves, patting their glossy hair and smiling among themselves. Then, quite suddenly, as if they had only just made up their minds that that was what they had to do, the men came gliding over the parquet. There was a joyful flutter among the girls. A tall, fair man flew up to Meg, seized her programme, scribbled something; Meg passed him on to Leila. "May I have the pleasure?" He ducked and smiled. There came a dark man wearing an eyeglass, then cousin Laurie with a friend, and Laura with a little freckled fellow whose tie was crooked. Then quite an old man--fat, with a big bald patch on his head-- took her programme and murmured, "Let me see, let me see!" And he was a long time comparing his programme, which looked black with names, with hers. It seemed to give him so much trouble that Leila was ashamed. "Oh, please don't bother," she said eagerly. But instead of replying the fat man wrote something, glanced at her again. "Do I remember this bright little face?" he said softly. "Is it known to me of yore?" At that moment the band began playing; the fat man disappeared. He was tossed away on a great wave of music that came flying over the gleaming floor, breaking the groups up into couples, scattering them, sending them spinning... + + Leila had learned to dance at boarding school. Every Saturday afternoon the boarders were hurried off to a little corrugated iron mission hall where Miss Eccles (of London) held her "select" classes. But the difference between that dusty-smelling hall--with calico texts on the walls, the poor terrified little woman in a brown velvet toque with rabbit's ears thumping the cold piano, Miss Eccles poking the girls' feet with her long white wand--and this was so tremendous that Leila was sure if her partner didn't come and she had to listen to that marvellous music and to watch the others sliding, gliding over the golden floor, she would die at least, or faint, or lift her arms and fly out of one of those dark windows that showed the stars. + + "Ours, I think--" Some one bowed, smiled, and offered her his arm; she hadn't to die after all. Some one's hand pressed her waist, and she floated away like a flower that is tossed into a pool. + + "Quite a good floor, isn't it?" drawled a faint voice close to her ear. + + "I think it's most beautifully slippery," said Leila. + + "Pardon!" The faint voice sounded surprised. Leila said it again. And there was a tiny pause before the voice echoed, "Oh, quite!" and she was swung round again. + + He steered so beautifully. That was the great difference between dancing with girls and men, Leila decided. Girls banged into each other, and stamped on each other's feet; the girl who was gentleman always clutched you so. + + The azaleas were separate flowers no longer; they were pink and white flags streaming by. + + "Were you at the Bells' last week?" the voice came again. It sounded tired. Leila wondered whether she ought to ask him if he would like to stop. + + "No, this is my first dance," said she. + + Her partner gave a little gasping laugh. "Oh, I say," he protested. + + "Yes, it is really the first dance I've ever been to." Leila was most fervent. It was such a relief to be able to tell somebody. "You see, I've lived in the country all my life up till now..." + + At that moment the music stopped, and they went to sit on two chairs against the wall. Leila tucked her pink satin feet under and fanned herself, while she blissfully watched the other couples passing and disappearing through the swing doors. + + "Enjoying yourself, Leila?" asked Jose, nodding her golden head. + + Laura passed and gave her the faintest little wink; it made Leila wonder for a moment whether she was quite grown up after all. Certainly her partner did not say very much. He coughed, tucked his handkerchief away, pulled down his waistcoat, took a minute thread off his sleeve. But it didn't matter. Almost immediately the band started and her second partner seemed to spring from the ceiling. + + "Floor's not bad," said the new voice. Did one always begin with the floor? And then, "Were you at the Neaves' on Tuesday?" And again Leila explained. Perhaps it was a little strange that her partners were not more interested. For it was thrilling. Her first ball! She was only at the beginning of everything. It seemed to her that she had never known what the night was like before. Up till now it had been dark, silent, beautiful very often--oh yes--but mournful somehow. Solemn. And now it would never be like that again--it had opened dazzling bright. + + "Care for an ice?" said her partner. And they went through the swing doors, down the passage, to the supper room. Her cheeks burned, she was fearfully thirsty. How sweet the ices looked on little glass plates and how cold the frosted spoon was, iced too! And when they came back to the hall there was the fat man waiting for her by the door. It gave her quite a shock again to see how old he was; he ought to have been on the stage with the fathers and mothers. And when Leila compared him with her other partners he looked shabby. His waistcoat was creased, there was a button off his glove, his coat looked as if it was dusty with French chalk. + + "Come along, little lady," said the fat man. He scarcely troubled to clasp her, and they moved away so gently, it was more like walking than dancing. But he said not a word about the floor. "Your first dance, isn't it?" he murmured. + + "How did you know?" + + "Ah," said the fat man, "that's what it is to be old!" He wheezed faintly as he steered her past an awkward couple. "You see, I've been doing this kind of thing for the last thirty years." + + "Thirty years?" cried Leila. Twelve years before she was born! + + "It hardly bears thinking about, does it?" said the fat man gloomily. Leila looked at his bald head, and she felt quite sorry for him. + + "I think it's marvellous to be still going on," she said kindly. + + "Kind little lady," said the fat man, and he pressed her a little closer, and hummed a bar of the waltz. "Of course," he said, "you can't hope to last anything like as long as that. No-o," said the fat man, "long before that you'll be sitting up there on the stage, looking on, in your nice black velvet. And these pretty arms will have turned into little short fat ones, and you'll beat time with such a different kind of fan--a black bony one." The fat man seemed to shudder. "And you'll smile away like the poor old dears up there, and point to your daughter, and tell the elderly lady next to you how some dreadful man tried to kiss her at the club ball. And your heart will ache, ache"--the fat man squeezed her closer still, as if he really was sorry for that poor heart--"because no one wants to kiss you now. And you'll say how unpleasant these polished floors are to walk on, how dangerous they are. Eh, Mademoiselle Twinkletoes?" said the fat man softly. + + Leila gave a light little laugh, but she did not feel like laughing. Was it--could it all be true? It sounded terribly true. Was this first ball only the beginning of her last ball, after all? At that the music seemed to change; it sounded sad, sad; it rose upon a great sigh. Oh, how quickly things changed! Why didn't happiness last for ever? For ever wasn't a bit too long. + + "I want to stop," she said in a breathless voice. The fat man led her to the door. + + "No," she said, "I won't go outside. I won't sit down. I'll just stand here, thank you." She leaned against the wall, tapping with her foot, pulling up her gloves and trying to smile. But deep inside her a little girl threw her pinafore over her head and sobbed. Why had he spoiled it all? + + "I say, you know," said the fat man, "you mustn't take me seriously, little lady." + + "As if I should!" said Leila, tossing her small dark head and sucking her underlip... + + Again the couples paraded. The swing doors opened and shut. Now new music was given out by the bandmaster. But Leila didn't want to dance any more. She wanted to be home, or sitting on the veranda listening to those baby owls. When she looked through the dark windows at the stars, they had long beams like wings... + + But presently a soft, melting, ravishing tune began, and a young man with curly hair bowed before her. She would have to dance, out of politeness, until she could find Meg. Very stiffly she walked into the middle; very haughtily she put her hand on his sleeve. But in one minute, in one turn, her feet glided, glided. The lights, the azaleas, the dresses, the pink faces, the velvet chairs, all became one beautiful flying wheel. And when her next partner bumped her into the fat man and he said, "Pardon," she smiled at him more radiantly than ever. She didn't even recognise him again. + + + + 11. THE SINGING LESSON. + + With despair--cold, sharp despair--buried deep in her heart like a wicked knife, Miss Meadows, in cap and gown and carrying a little baton, trod the cold corridors that led to the music hall. Girls of all ages, rosy from the air, and bubbling over with that gleeful excitement that comes from running to school on a fine autumn morning, hurried, skipped, fluttered by; from the hollow class-rooms came a quick drumming of voices; a bell rang; a voice like a bird cried, "Muriel." And then there came from the staircase a tremendous knock-knock-knocking. Some one had dropped her dumbbells. + + The Science Mistress stopped Miss Meadows. + + "Good mor-ning," she cried, in her sweet, affected drawl. "Isn't it cold? It might be win-ter." + + Miss Meadows, hugging the knife, stared in hatred at the Science Mistress. Everything about her was sweet, pale, like honey. You wold not have been surprised to see a bee caught in the tangles of that yellow hair. + + "It is rather sharp," said Miss Meadows, grimly. + + The other smiled her sugary smile. + + "You look fro-zen," said she. Her blue eyes opened wide; there came a mocking light in them. (Had she noticed anything?) + + "Oh, not quite as bad as that," said Miss Meadows, and she gave the Science Mistress, in exchange for her smile, a quick grimace and passed on... + + Forms Four, Five, and Six were assembled in the music hall. The noise was deafening. On the platform, by the piano, stood Mary Beazley, Miss Meadows' favourite, who played accompaniments. She was turning the music stool. When she saw Miss Meadows she gave a loud, warning "Sh-sh! girls!" and Miss Meadows, her hands thrust in her sleeves, the baton under her arm, strode down the centre aisle, mounted the steps, turned sharply, seized the brass music stand, planted it in front of her, and gave two sharp taps with her baton for silence. + + "Silence, please! Immediately!" and, looking at nobody, her glance swept over that sea of coloured flannel blouses, with bobbing pink faces and hands, quivering butterfly hair-bows, and music-books outspread. She knew perfectly well what they were thinking. "Meady is in a wax." Well, let them think it! Her eyelids quivered; she tossed her head, defying them. What could the thoughts of those creatures matter to some one who stood there bleeding to death, pierced to the heart, to the heart, by such a letter-- + + ..."I feel more and more strongly that our marriage would be a mistake. Not that I do not love you. I love you as much as it is possible for me to love any woman, but, truth to tell, I have come to the conclusion that I am not a marrying man, and the idea of settling down fills me with nothing but--" and the word "disgust" was scratched out lightly and "regret" written over the top. + + Basil! Miss Meadows stalked over to the piano. And Mary Beazley, who was waiting for this moment, bent forward; her curls fell over her cheeks while she breathed, "Good morning, Miss Meadows," and she motioned towards rather than handed to her mistress a beautiful yellow chrysanthemum. This little ritual of the flower had been gone through for ages and ages, quite a term and a half. It was as much part of the lesson as opening the piano. But this morning, instead of taking it up, instead of tucking it into her belt while she leant over Mary and said, "Thank you, Mary. How very nice! Turn to page thirty-two," what was Mary's horror when Miss Meadows totally ignored the chrysanthemum, made no reply to her greeting, but said in a voice of ice, "Page fourteen, please, and mark the accents well." + + Staggering moment! Mary blushed until the tears stood in her eyes, but Miss Meadows was gone back to the music stand; her voice rang through the music hall. + + "Page fourteen. We will begin with page fourteen. 'A Lament.' Now, girls, you ought to know it by this time. We shall take it all together; not in parts, all together. And without expression. Sing it, though, quite simply, beating time with the left hand." + + She raised the baton; she tapped the music stand twice. Down came Mary on the opening chord; down came all those left hands, beating the air, and in chimed those young, mournful voices:-- "Fast! Ah, too Fast Fade the Ro-o-ses of Pleasure; Soon Autumn yields unto Wi-i-nter Drear. Fleetly! Ah, Fleetly Mu-u-sic's Gay Measure Passes away from the Listening Ear." + + Good Heavens, what could be more tragic than that lament! Every note was a sigh, a sob, a groan of awful mournfulness. Miss Meadows lifted her arms in the wide gown and began conducting with both hands. "...I feel more and more strongly that our marriage would be a mistake..." she beat. And the voices cried: "Fleetly! Ah, Fleetly." What could have possessed him to write such a letter! What could have led up to it! It came out of nothing. His last letter had been all about a fumed-oak bookcase he had bought for "our" books, and a "natty little hall-stand" he had seen, "a very neat affair with a carved owl on a bracket, holding three hat-brushes in its claws." How she had smiled at that! So like a man to think one needed three hat-brushes! "From the Listening Ear," sang the voices. + + "Once again," said Miss Meadows. "But this time in parts. Still without expression." "Fast! Ah, too Fast." With the gloom of the contraltos added, one could scarcely help shuddering. "Fade the Roses of Pleasure." Last time he had come to see her, Basil had worn a rose in his buttonhole. How handsome he had looked in that bright blue suit, with that dark red rose! And he knew it, too. He couldn't help knowing it. First he stroked his hair, then his moustache; his teeth gleamed when he smiled. + + "The headmaster's wife keeps on asking me to dinner. It's a perfect nuisance. I never get an evening to myself in that place." + + "But can't you refuse?" + + "Oh, well, it doesn't do for a man in my position to be unpopular." + + "Music's Gay Measure," wailed the voices. The willow trees, outside the high, narrow windows, waved in the wind. They had lost half their leaves. The tiny ones that clung wriggled like fishes caught on a line. "...I am not a marrying man..." The voices were silent; the piano waited. + + "Quite good," said Miss Meadows, but still in such a strange, stony tone that the younger girls began to feel positively frightened. "But now that we know it, we shall take it with expression. As much expression as you can put into it. Think of the words, girls. Use your imaginations. 'Fast! Ah, too Fast,'" cried Miss Meadows. "That ought to break out--a loud, strong forte--a lament. And then in the second line, 'Winter Drear,' make that 'Drear' sound as if a cold wind were blowing through it. 'Dre- ear!'" said she so awfully that Mary Beazley, on the music stool, wriggled her spine. "The third line should be one crescendo. 'Fleetly! Ah, Fleetly Music's Gay Measure.' Breaking on the first word of the last line, Passes.' And then on the word, 'Away,' you must begin to die...to fade...until 'The Listening Ear' is nothing more than a faint whisper...You can slow down as much as you like almost on the last line. Now, please." + + Again the two light taps; she lifted her arms again. 'Fast! Ah, too Fast.' "...and the idea of settling down fills me with nothing but disgust--" Disgust was what he had written. That was as good as to say their engagement was definitely broken off. Broken off! Their engagement! People had been surprised enough that she had got engaged. The Science Mistress would not believe it at first. But nobody had been as surprised as she. She was thirty. Basil was twenty-five. It had been a miracle, simply a miracle, to hear him say, as they walked home from church that very dark night, "You know, somehow or other, I've got fond of you." And he had taken hold of the end of her ostrich feather boa. "Passes away from the Listening Ear." + + "Repeat! Repeat!" said Miss Meadows. "More expression, girls! Once more!" + + "Fast! Ah, too Fast." The older girls were crimson; some of the younger ones began to cry. Big spots of rain blew against the windows, and one could hear the willows whispering, "...not that I do not love you..." + + "But, my darling, if you love me," thought Miss Meadows, "I don't mind how much it is. Love me as little as you like." But she knew he didn't love her. Not to have cared enough to scratch out that word "disgust," so that she couldn't read it! "Soon Autumn yields unto Winter Drear." She would have to leave the school, too. She could never face the Science Mistress or the girls after it got known. She would have to disappear somewhere. "Passes away." The voices began to die, to fade, to whisper...to vanish... + + Suddenly the door opened. A little girl in blue walked fussily up the aisle, hanging her head, biting her lips, and twisting the silver bangle on her red little wrist. She came up the steps and stood before Miss Meadows. + + "Well, Monica, what is it?" + + "Oh, if you please, Miss Meadows," said the little girl, gasping, "Miss Wyatt wants to see you in the mistress's room." + + "Very well," said Miss Meadows. And she called to the girls, "I shall put you on your honour to talk quietly while I am away." But they were too subdued to do anything else. Most of them were blowing their noses. + + The corridors were silent and cold; they echoed to Miss Meadows' steps. The head mistress sat at her desk. For a moment she did not look up. She was as usual disentangling her eyeglasses, which had got caught in her lace tie. "Sit down, Miss Meadows," she said very kindly. And then she picked up a pink envelope from the blotting-pad. "I sent for you just now because this telegram has come for you." + + "A telegram for me, Miss Wyatt?" + + Basil! He had committed suicide, decided Miss Meadows. Her hand flew out, but Miss Wyatt held the telegram back a moment. "I hope it's not bad news," she said, so more than kindly. And Miss Meadows tore it open. + + "Pay no attention to letter, must have been mad, bought hat-stand to-day-- Basil," she read. She couldn't take her eyes off the telegram. + + "I do hope it's nothing very serious," said Miss Wyatt, leaning forward. + + "Oh, no, thank you, Miss Wyatt," blushed Miss Meadows. "It's nothing bad at all. It's"--and she gave an apologetic little laugh--"it's from my fiance saying that...saying that--" There was a pause. "I see," said Miss Wyatt. And another pause. Then--"You've fifteen minutes more of your class, Miss Meadows, haven't you?" + + "Yes, Miss Wyatt." She got up. She half ran towards the door. + + "Oh, just one minute, Miss Meadows," said Miss Wyatt. "I must say I don't approve of my teachers having telegrams sent to them in school hours, unless in case of very bad news, such as death," explained Miss Wyatt, "or a very serious accident, or something to that effect. Good news, Miss Meadows, will always keep, you know." + + On the wings of hope, of love, of joy, Miss Meadows sped back to the music hall, up the aisle, up the steps, over to the piano. + + "Page thirty-two, Mary," she said, "page thirty-two," and, picking up the yellow chrysanthemum, she held it to her lips to hide her smile. Then she turned to the girls, rapped with her baton: "Page thirty-two, girls. Page thirty-two." + + "We come here To-day with Flowers o'erladen, With Baskets of Fruit and Ribbons to boot, To-oo Congratulate... + + "Stop! Stop!" cried Miss Meadows. "This is awful. This is dreadful." And she beamed at her girls. "What's the matter with you all? Think, girls, think of what you're singing. Use your imaginations. 'With Flowers o'erladen. Baskets of Fruit and Ribbons to boot.' And 'Congratulate.'" Miss Meadows broke off. "Don't look so doleful, girls. It ought to sound warm, joyful, eager. 'Congratulate.' Once more. Quickly. All together. Now then!" + + And this time Miss Meadows' voice sounded over all the other voices--full, deep, glowing with expression. + + + + 12. THE STRANGER + + It seemed to the little crowd on the wharf that she was never going to move again. There she lay, immense, motionless on the grey crinkled water, a loop of smoke above her, an immense flock of gulls screaming and diving after the galley droppings at the stern. You could just see little couples parading--little flies walking up and down the dish on the grey crinkled tablecloth. Other flies clustered and swarmed at the edge. Now there was a gleam of white on the lower deck--the cook's apron or the stewardess perhaps. Now a tiny black spider raced up the ladder on to the bridge. + + In the front of the crowd a strong-looking, middle-aged man, dressed very well, very snugly in a grey overcoat, grey silk scarf, thick gloves and dark felt hat, marched up and down, twirling his folded umbrella. He seemed to be the leader of the little crowd on the wharf and at the same time to keep them together. He was something between the sheep-dog and the shepherd. + + But what a fool--what a fool he had been not to bring any glasses! There wasn't a pair of glasses between the whole lot of them. + + "Curious thing, Mr. Scott, that none of us thought of glasses. We might have been able to stir 'em up a bit. We might have managed a little signalling. 'Don't hesitate to land. Natives harmless.' Or: 'A welcome awaits you. All is forgiven.' What? Eh?" + + Mr. Hammond's quick, eager glance, so nervous and yet so friendly and confiding, took in everybody on the wharf, roped in even those old chaps lounging against the gangways. They knew, every man-jack of them, that Mrs. Hammond was on that boat, and that he was so tremendously excited it never entered his head not to believe that this marvellous fact meant something to them too. It warmed his heart towards them. They were, he decided, as decent a crowd of people--Those old chaps over by the gangways, too--fine, solid old chaps. What chests--by Jove! And he squared his own, plunged his thick-gloved hands into his pockets, rocked from heel to toe. + + "Yes, my wife's been in Europe for the last ten months. On a visit to our eldest girl, who was married last year. I brought her up here, as far as Salisbury, myself. So I thought I'd better come and fetch her back. Yes, yes, yes." The shrewd grey eyes narrowed again and searched anxiously, quickly, the motionless liner. Again his overcoat was unbuttoned. Out came the thin, butter-yellow watch again, and for the twentieth--fiftieth-- hundredth time he made the calculation. + + "Let me see now. It was two fifteen when the doctor's launch went off. Two fifteen. It is now exactly twenty-eight minutes past four. That is to say, the doctor's been gone two hours and thirteen minutes. Two hours and thirteen minutes! Whee-ooh!" He gave a queer little half-whistle and snapped his watch to again. "But I think we should have been told if there was anything up--don't you, Mr. Gaven?" + + "Oh, yes, Mr. Hammond! I don't think there's anything to--anything to worry about," said Mr. Gaven, knocking out his pipe against the heel of his shoe. "At the same time--" + + "Quite so! Quite so!" cried Mr. Hammond. "Dashed annoying!" He paced quickly up and down and came back again to his stand between Mr. and Mrs. Scott and Mr. Gaven. "It's getting quite dark, too," and he waved his folded umbrella as though the dusk at least might have had the decency to keep off for a bit. But the dusk came slowly, spreading like a slow stain over the water. Little Jean Scott dragged at her mother's hand. + + "I wan' my tea, mammy!" she wailed. + + "I expect you do," said Mr. Hammond. "I expect all these ladies want their tea." And his kind, flushed, almost pitiful glance roped them all in again. He wondered whether Janey was having a final cup of tea in the saloon out there. He hoped so; he thought not. It would be just like her not to leave the deck. In that case perhaps the deck steward would bring her up a cup. If he'd been there he'd have got it for her--somehow. And for a moment he was on deck, standing over her, watching her little hand fold round the cup in the way she had, while she drank the only cup of tea to be got on board...But now he was back here, and the Lord only knew when that cursed Captain would stop hanging about in the stream. He took another turn, up and down, up and down. He walked as far as the cab-stand to make sure his driver hadn't disappeared; back he swerved again to the little flock huddled in the shelter of the banana crates. Little Jean Scott was still wanting her tea. Poor little beggar! He wished he had a bit of chocolate on him. + + "Here, Jean!" he said. "Like a lift up?" And easily, gently, he swung the little girl on to a higher barrel. The movement of holding her, steadying her, relieved him wonderfully, lightened his heart. + + "Hold on," he said, keeping an arm round her. + + "Oh, don't worry about Jean, Mr. Hammond!" said Mrs. Scott. + + "That's all right, Mrs. Scott. No trouble. It's a pleasure. Jean's a little pal of mine, aren't you, Jean?" + + "Yes, Mr. Hammond," said Jean, and she ran her finger down the dent of his felt hat. + + But suddenly she caught him by the ear and gave a loud scream. "Lo-ok, Mr. Hammond! She's moving! Look, she's coming in!" + + By Jove! So she was. At last! She was slowly, slowly turning round. A bell sounded far over the water and a great spout of steam gushed into the air. The gulls rose; they fluttered away like bits of white paper. And whether that deep throbbing was her engines or his heart Mr. Hammond couldn't say. He had to nerve himself to bear it, whatever it was. At that moment old Captain Johnson, the harbour-master, came striding down the wharf, a leather portfolio under his arm. + + "Jean'll be all right," said Mr. Scott. "I'll hold her." He was just in time. Mr. Hammond had forgotten about Jean. He sprang away to greet old Captain Johnson. + + "Well, Captain," the eager, nervous voice rang out again, "you've taken pity on us at last." + + "It's no good blaming me, Mr. Hammond," wheezed old Captain Johnson, staring at the liner. "You got Mrs. Hammond on board, ain't yer?" + + "Yes, yes!" said Hammond, and he kept by the harbour-master's side. "Mrs. Hammond's there. Hul-lo! We shan't be long now!" + + With her telephone ring-ringing, the thrum of her screw filling the air, the big liner bore down on them, cutting sharp through the dark water so that big white shavings curled to either side. Hammond and the harbour- master kept in front of the rest. Hammond took off his hat; he raked the decks--they were crammed with passengers; he waved his hat and bawled a loud, strange "Hul-lo!" across the water; and then turned round and burst out laughing and said something--nothing--to old Captain Johnson. + + "Seen her?" asked the harbour-master. + + "No, not yet. Steady--wait a bit!" And suddenly, between two great clumsy idiots--"Get out of the way there!" he signed with his umbrella--he saw a hand raised--a white glove shaking a handkerchief. Another moment, and-- thank God, thank God!--there she was. There was Janey. There was Mrs. Hammond, yes, yes, yes--standing by the rail and smiling and nodding and waving her handkerchief. + + "Well that's first class--first class! Well, well, well!" He positively stamped. Like lightning he drew out his cigar-case and offered it to old Captain Johnson. "Have a cigar, Captain! They're pretty good. Have a couple! Here"--and he pressed all the cigars in the case on the harbour- master--"I've a couple of boxes up at the hotel." + + "Thenks, Mr. Hammond!" wheezed old Captain Johnson. + + Hammond stuffed the cigar-case back. His hands were shaking, but he'd got hold of himself again. He was able to face Janey. There she was, leaning on the rail, talking to some woman and at the same time watching him, ready for him. It struck him, as the gulf of water closed, how small she looked on that huge ship. His heart was wrung with such a spasm that he could have cried out. How little she looked to have come all that long way and back by herself! Just like her, though. Just like Janey. She had the courage of a--And now the crew had come forward and parted the passengers; they had lowered the rails for the gangways. + + The voices on shore and the voices on board flew to greet each other. + + "All well?" + + "All well." + + "How's mother?" + + "Much better." + + "Hullo, Jean!" + + "Hillo, Aun' Emily!" + + "Had a good voyage?" + + "Splendid!" + + "Shan't be long now!" + + "Not long now." + + The engines stopped. Slowly she edged to the wharf-side. + + "Make way there--make way--make way!" And the wharf hands brought the heavy gangways along at a sweeping run. Hammond signed to Janey to stay where she was. The old harbour-master stepped forward; he followed. As to "ladies first," or any rot like that, it never entered his head. + + "After you, Captain!" he cried genially. And, treading on the old man's heels, he strode up the gangway on to the deck in a bee-line to Janey, and Janey was clasped in his arms. + + "Well, well, well! Yes, yes! Here we are at last!" he stammered. It was all he could say. And Janey emerged, and her cool little voice--the only voice in the world for him--said, + + "Well, darling! Have you been waiting long?" + + No; not long. Or, at any rate, it didn't matter. It was over now. But the point was, he had a cab waiting at the end of the wharf. Was she ready to go off. Was her luggage ready? In that case they could cut off sharp with her cabin luggage and let the rest go hang until to-morrow. He bent over her and she looked up with her familiar half-smile. She was just the same. Not a day changed. Just as he'd always known her. She laid her small hand on his sleeve. + + "How are the children, John?" she asked. + + (Hang the children!) "Perfectly well. Never better in their lives." + + "Haven't they sent me letters?" + + "Yes, yes--of course! I've left them at the hotel for you to digest later on." + + "We can't go quite so fast," said she. "I've got people to say good-bye to--and then there's the Captain." As his face fell she gave his arm a small understanding squeeze. "If the Captain comes off the bridge I want you to thank him for having looked after your wife so beautifully." Well, he'd got her. If she wanted another ten minutes--As he gave way she was surrounded. The whole first-class seemed to want to say good-bye to Janey. + + "Good-bye, dear Mrs. Hammond! And next time you're in Sydney I'll expect you." + + "Darling Mrs. Hammond! You won't forget to write to me, will you?" + + "Well, Mrs. Hammond, what this boat would have been without you!" + + It was as plain as a pikestaff that she was by far the most popular woman on board. And she took it all--just as usual. Absolutely composed. Just her little self--just Janey all over; standing there with her veil thrown back. Hammond never noticed what his wife had on. It was all the same to him whatever she wore. But to-day he did notice that she wore a black "costume"--didn't they call it?--with white frills, trimmings he supposed they were, at the neck and sleeves. All this while Janey handed him round. + + "John, dear!" And then: "I want to introduce you to--" + + Finally they did escape, and she led the way to her state-room. To follow Janey down the passage that she knew so well--that was so strange to him; to part the green curtains after her and to step into the cabin that had been hers gave him exquisite happiness. But--confound it!--the stewardess was there on the floor, strapping up the rugs. + + "That's the last, Mrs. Hammond," said the stewardess, rising and pulling down her cuffs. + + He was introduced again, and then Janey and the stewardess disappeared into the passage. He heard whisperings. She was getting the tipping business over, he supposed. He sat down on the striped sofa and took his hat off. There were the rugs she had taken with her; they looked good as new. All her luggage looked fresh, perfect. The labels were written in her beautiful little clear hand--"Mrs. John Hammond." + + "Mrs. John Hammond!" He gave a long sigh of content and leaned back, crossing his arms. The strain was over. He felt he could have sat there for ever sighing his relief--the relief at being rid of that horrible tug, pull, grip on his heart. The danger was over. That was the feeling. They were on dry land again. + + But at that moment Janey's head came round the corner. + + "Darling--do you mind? I just want to go and say good-bye to the doctor." + + Hammond started up. "I'll come with you." + + "No, no!" she said. "Don't bother. I'd rather not. I'll not be a minute." + + And before he could answer she was gone. He had half a mind to run after her; but instead he sat down again. + + Would she really not be long? What was the time now? Out came the watch; he stared at nothing. That was rather queer of Janey, wasn't it? Why couldn't she have told the stewardess to say good-bye for her? Why did she have to go chasing after the ship's doctor? She could have sent a note from the hotel even if the affair had been urgent. Urgent? Did it--could it mean that she had been ill on the voyage--she was keeping something from him? That was it! He seized his hat. He was going off to find that fellow and to wring the truth out of him at all costs. He thought he'd noticed just something. She was just a touch too calm--too steady. From the very first moment-- + + The curtains rang. Janey was back. He jumped to his feet. + + "Janey, have you been ill on this voyage? You have!" + + "Ill?" Her airy little voice mocked him. She stepped over the rugs, and came up close, touched his breast, and looked up at him. + + "Darling," she said, "don't frighten me. Of course I haven't! Whatever makes you think I have? Do I look ill?" + + But Hammond didn't see her. He only felt that she was looking at him and that there was no need to worry about anything. She was here to look after things. It was all right. Everything was. + + The gentle pressure of her hand was so calming that he put his over hers to hold it there. And she said: + + "Stand still. I want to look at you. I haven't seen you yet. You've had your beard beautifully trimmed, and you look--younger, I think, and decidedly thinner! Bachelor life agrees with you." + + "Agrees with me!" He groaned for love and caught her close again. And again, as always, he had the feeling that he was holding something that never was quite his--his. Something too delicate, too precious, that would fly away once he let go. + + "For God's sake let's get off to the hotel so that we can be by ourselves!" And he rang the bell hard for some one to look sharp with the luggage. + + ... + + Walking down the wharf together she took his arm. He had her on his arm again. And the difference it made to get into the cab after Janey--to throw the red-and-yellow striped blanket round them both--to tell the driver to hurry because neither of them had had any tea. No more going without his tea or pouring out his own. She was back. He turned to her, squeezed her hand, and said gently, teasingly, in the "special" voice he had for her: "Glad to be home again, dearie?" She smiled; she didn't even bother to answer, but gently she drew his hand away as they came to the brighter streets. + + "We've got the best room in the hotel," he said. "I wouldn't be put off with another. And I asked the chambermaid to put in a bit of a fire in case you felt chilly. She's a nice, attentive girl. And I thought now we were here we wouldn't bother to go home to-morrow, but spend the day looking round and leave the morning after. Does that suit you? There's no hurry, is there? The children will have you soon enough...I thought a day's sight-seeing might make a nice break in your journey--eh, Janey?" + + "Have you taken the tickets for the day after?" she asked. + + "I should think I have!" He unbuttoned his overcoat and took out his bulging pocket-book. "Here we are! I reserved a first-class carriage to Cooktown. There it is--'Mr. and Mrs. John Hammond.' I thought we might as well do ourselves comfortably, and we don't want other people butting in, do we? But if you'd like to stop here a bit longer--?" + + "Oh, no!" said Janey quickly. "Not for the world! The day after to- morrow, then. And the children--" + + But they had reached the hotel. The manager was standing in the broad, brilliantly-lighted porch. He came down to greet them. A porter ran from the hall for their boxes. + + "Well, Mr. Arnold, here's Mrs. Hammond at last!" + + The manager led them through the hall himself and pressed the elevator- bell. Hammond knew there were business pals of his sitting at the little hall tables having a drink before dinner. But he wasn't going to risk interruption; he looked neither to the right nor the left. They could think what they pleased. If they didn't understand, the more fools they-- and he stepped out of the lift, unlocked the door of their room, and shepherded Janey in. The door shut. Now, at last, they were alone together. He turned up the light. The curtains were drawn; the fire blazed. He flung his hat on to the huge bed and went towards her. + + But--would you believe it!--again they were interrupted. This time it was the porter with the luggage. He made two journeys of it, leaving the door open in between, taking his time, whistling through his teeth in the corridor. Hammond paced up and down the room, tearing off his gloves, tearing off his scarf. Finally he flung his overcoat on to the bedside. + + At last the fool was gone. The door clicked. Now they were alone. Said Hammond: "I feel I'll never have you to myself again. These cursed people! Janey"--and he bent his flushed, eager gaze upon her--"let's have dinner up here. If we go down to the restaurant we'll be interrupted, and then there's the confounded music" (the music he'd praised so highly, applauded so loudly last night!). "We shan't be able to hear each other speak. Let's have something up here in front of the fire. It's too late for tea. I'll order a little supper, shall I? How does that idea strike you?" + + "Do, darling!" said Janey. "And while you're away--the children's letters--" + + "Oh, later on will do!" said Hammond. + + "But then we'd get it over," said Janey. "And I'd first have time to--" + + "Oh, I needn't go down!" explained Hammond. "I'll just ring and give the order...you don't want to send me away, do you?" + + Janey shook her head and smiled. + + "But you're thinking of something else. You're worrying about something," said Hammond. "What is it? Come and sit here--come and sit on my knee before the fire." + + "I'll just unpin my hat," said Janey, and she went over to the dressing- table. "A-ah!" She gave a little cry. + + "What is it?" + + "Nothing, darling. I've just found the children's letters. That's all right! They will keep. No hurry now!" She turned to him, clasping them. She tucked them into her frilled blouse. She cried quickly, gaily: "Oh, how typical this dressing-table is of you!" + + "Why? What's the matter with it?" said Hammond. + + "If it were floating in eternity I should say 'John!'" laughed Janey, staring at the big bottle of hair tonic, the wicker bottle of eau-de- Cologne, the two hair-brushes, and a dozen new collars tied with pink tape. "Is this all your luggage?" + + "Hang my luggage!" said Hammond; but all the same he liked being laughed at by Janey. "Let's talk. Let's get down to things. Tell me"--and as Janey perched on his knees he leaned back and drew her into the deep, ugly chair- -"tell me you're really glad to be back, Janey." + + "Yes, darling, I am glad," she said. + + But just as when he embraced her he felt she would fly away, so Hammond never knew--never knew for dead certain that she was as glad as he was. How could he know? Would he ever know? Would he always have this craving- -this pang like hunger, somehow, to make Janey so much part of him that there wasn't any of her to escape? He wanted to blot out everybody, everything. He wished now he'd turned off the light. That might have brought her nearer. And now those letters from the children rustled in her blouse. He could have chucked them into the fire. + + "Janey," he whispered. + + "Yes, dear?" She lay on his breast, but so lightly, so remotely. Their breathing rose and fell together. + + "Janey!" + + "What is it?" + + "Turn to me," he whispered. A slow, deep flush flowed into his forehead. "Kiss me, Janey! You kiss me!" + + It seemed to him there was a tiny pause--but long enough for him to suffer torture--before her lips touched his, firmly, lightly--kissing them as she always kissed him, as though the kiss--how could he describe it?--confirmed what they were saying, signed the contract. But that wasn't what he wanted; that wasn't at all what he thirsted for. He felt suddenly, horrible tired. + + "If you knew," he said, opening his eyes, "what it's been like--waiting to- day. I thought the boat never would come in. There we were, hanging about. What kept you so long?" + + She made no answer. She was looking away from him at the fire. The flames hurried--hurried over the coals, flickered, fell. + + "Not asleep, are you?" said Hammond, and he jumped her up and down. + + "No," she said. And then: "Don't do that, dear. No, I was thinking. As a matter of fact," she said, "one of the passengers died last night--a man. That's what held us up. We brought him in--I mean, he wasn't buried at sea. So, of course, the ship's doctor and the shore doctor--" + + "What was it?" asked Hammond uneasily. He hated to hear of death. He hated this to have happened. It was, in some queer way, as though he and Janey had met a funeral on their way to the hotel. + + "Oh, it wasn't anything in the least infectious!" said Janey. She was speaking scarcely above her breath. "It was heart." A pause. "Poor fellow!" she said. "Quite young." And she watched the fire flicker and fall. "He died in my arms," said Janey. + + The blow was so sudden that Hammond thought he would faint. He couldn't move; he couldn't breathe. He felt all his strength flowing--flowing into the big dark chair, and the big dark chair held him fast, gripped him, forced him to bear it. + + "What?" he said dully. "What's that you say?" + + "The end was quite peaceful," said the small voice. "He just"--and Hammond saw her lift her gentle hand--"breathed his life away at the end." And her hand fell. + + "Who--else was there?" Hammond managed to ask. + + "Nobody. I was alone with him." + + Ah, my God, what was she saying! What was she doing to him! This would kill him! And all the while she spoke: + + "I saw the change coming and I sent the steward for the doctor, but the doctor was too late. He couldn't have done anything, anyway." + + "But--why you, why you?" moaned Hammond. + + At that Janey turned quickly, quickly searched his face. + + "You don't mind, John, do you?" she asked. "You don't--It's nothing to do with you and me." + + Somehow or other he managed to shake some sort of smile at her. Somehow or other he stammered: "No--go--on, go on! I want you to tell me." + + "But, John darling--" + + "Tell me, Janey!" + + "There's nothing to tell," she said, wondering. "He was one of the first- class passengers. I saw he was very ill when he came on board...But he seemed to be so much better until yesterday. He had a severe attack in the afternoon--excitement--nervousness, I think, about arriving. And after that he never recovered." + + "But why didn't the stewardess--" + + "Oh, my dear--the stewardess!" said Janey. "What would he have felt? And besides...he might have wanted to leave a message...to--" + + "Didn't he?" muttered Hammond. "Didn't he say anything?" + + "No, darling, not a word!" She shook her head softly. "All the time I was with him he was too weak...he was too weak even to move a finger..." + + Janey was silent. But her words, so light, so soft, so chill, seemed to hover in the air, to rain into his breast like snow. + + The fire had gone red. Now it fell in with a sharp sound and the room was colder. Cold crept up his arms. The room was huge, immense, glittering. It filled his whole world. There was the great blind bed, with his coat flung across it like some headless man saying his prayers. There was the luggage, ready to be carried away again, anywhere, tossed into trains, carted on to boats. + + ..."He was too weak. He was too weak to move a finger." And yet he died in Janey's arms. She--who'd never--never once in all these years--never on one single solitary occasion-- + + No; he mustn't think of it. Madness lay in thinking of it. No, he wouldn't face it. He couldn't stand it. It was too much to bear! + + And now Janey touched his tie with her fingers. She pinched the edges of the tie together. + + "You're not--sorry I told you, John darling? It hasn't made you sad? It hasn't spoilt our evening--our being alone together?" + + But at that he had to hide his face. He put his face into her bosom and his arms enfolded her. + + Spoilt their evening! Spoilt their being alone together! They would never be alone together again. + + + + 13. BANK HOLIDAY. + + A stout man with a pink face wears dingy white flannel trousers, a blue coat with a pink handkerchief showing, and a straw hat much too small for him, perched at the back of his head. He plays the guitar. A little chap in white canvas shoes, his face hidden under a felt hat like a broken wing, breathes into a flute; and a tall thin fellow, with bursting over-ripe button boots, draws ribbons--long, twisted, streaming ribbons--of tune out of a fiddle. They stand, unsmiling, but not serious, in the broad sunlight opposite the fruit-shop; the pink spider of a hand beats the guitar, the little squat hand, with a brass-and-turquoise ring, forces the reluctant flute, and the fiddler's arm tries to saw the fiddle in two. + + A crowd collects, eating oranges and bananas, tearing off the skins, dividing, sharing. One young girl has even a basket of strawberries, but she does not eat them. "Aren't they dear!" She stares at the tiny pointed fruits as if she were afraid of them. The Australian soldier laughs. "Here, go on, there's not more than a mouthful." But he doesn't want her to eat them, either. He likes to watch her little frightened face, and her puzzled eyes lifted to his: "Aren't they a price!" He pushes out his chest and grins. Old fat women in velvet bodices--old dusty pin-cushions-- lean old hags like worn umbrellas with a quivering bonnet on top; young women, in muslins, with hats that might have grown on hedges, and high pointed shoes; men in khaki, sailors, shabby clerks, young Jews in fine cloth suits with padded shoulders and wide trousers, "hospital boys" in blue--the sun discovers them--the loud, bold music holds them together in one big knot for a moment. The young ones are larking, pushing each other on and off the pavement, dodging, nudging; the old ones are talking: "So I said to 'im, if you wants the doctor to yourself, fetch 'im, says I." + + "An' by the time they was cooked there wasn't so much as you could put in the palm of me 'and!" + + The only ones who are quiet are the ragged children. They stand, as close up to the musicians as they can get, their hands behind their backs, their eyes big. Occasionally a leg hops, an arm wags. A tiny staggerer, overcome, turns round twice, sits down solemn, and then gets up again. + + "Ain't it lovely?" whispers a small girl behind her hand. + + And the music breaks into bright pieces, and joins together again, and again breaks, and is dissolved, and the crowd scatters, moving slowly up the hill. + + At the corner of the road the stalls begin. + + "Ticklers! Tuppence a tickler! 'Ool 'ave a tickler? Tickle 'em up, boys." Little soft brooms on wire handles. They are eagerly bought by the soldiers. + + "Buy a golliwog! Tuppence a golliwog!" + + "Buy a jumping donkey! All alive-oh!" + + "Su-perior chewing gum. Buy something to do, boys." + + "Buy a rose. Give 'er a rose, boy. Roses, lady?" + + "Fevvers! Fevvers!" They are hard to resist. Lovely, streaming feathers, emerald green, scarlet, bright blue, canary yellow. Even the babies wear feathers threaded through their bonnets. + + And an old woman in a three-cornered paper hat cries as if it were her final parting advice, the only way of saving yourself or of bringing him to his senses: "Buy a three-cornered 'at, my dear, an' put it on!" + + It is a flying day, half sun, half wind. When the sun goes in a shadow flies over; when it comes out again it is fiery. The men and women feel it burning their backs, their breasts and their arms; they feel their bodies expanding, coming alive...so that they make large embracing gestures, lift up their arms, for nothing, swoop down on a girl, blurt into laughter. + + Lemonade! A whole tank of it stands on a table covered with a cloth; and lemons like blunted fishes blob in the yellow water. It looks solid, like a jelly, in the thick glasses. Why can't they drink it without spilling it? Everybody spills it, and before the glass is handed back the last drops are thrown in a ring. + + Round the ice-cream cart, with its striped awning and bright brass cover, the children cluster. Little tongues lick, lick round the cream trumpets, round the squares. The cover is lifted, the wooden spoon plunges in; one shuts one's eyes to feel it, silently scrunching. + + "Let these little birds tell you your future!" She stands beside the cage, a shrivelled ageless Italian, clasping and unclasping her dark claws. Her face, a treasure of delicate carving, is tied in a green-and-gold scarf. And inside their prison the love-birds flutter towards the papers in the seed-tray. + + "You have great strength of character. You will marry a red-haired man and have three children. Beware of a blonde woman." Look out! Look out! A motor-car driven by a fat chauffeur comes rushing down the hill. Inside there a blonde woman, pouting, leaning forward--rushing through your life-- beware! beware! + + "Ladies and gentlemen, I am an auctioneer by profession, and if what I tell you is not the truth I am liable to have my licence taken away from me and a heavy imprisonment." He holds the licence across his chest; the sweat pours down his face into his paper collar; his eyes look glazed. When he takes off his hat there is a deep pucker of angry flesh on his forehead. Nobody buys a watch. + + Look out again! A huge barouche comes swinging down the hill with two old, old babies inside. She holds up a lace parasol; he sucks the knob of his cane, and the fat old bodies roll together as the cradle rocks, and the steaming horse leaves a trail of manure as it ambles down the hill. + + Under a tree, Professor Leonard, in cap and gown, stands beside his banner. He is here "for one day," from the London, Paris and Brussels Exhibition, to tell your fortune from your face. And he stands, smiling encouragement, like a clumsy dentist. When the big men, romping and swearing a moment before, hand across their sixpence, and stand before him, they are suddenly serious, dumb, timid, almost blushing as the Professor's quick hand notches the printed card. They are like little children caught playing in a forbidden garden by the owner, stepping from behind a tree. + + The top of the hill is reached. How hot it is! How fine it is! The public-house is open, and the crowd presses in. The mother sits on the pavement edge with her baby, and the father brings her out a glass of dark, brownish stuff, and then savagely elbows his way in again. A reek of beer floats from the public-house, and a loud clatter and rattle of voices. + + The wind has dropped, and the sun burns more fiercely than ever. Outside the two swing-doors there is a thick mass of children like flies at the mouth of a sweet-jar. + + And up, up the hill come the people, with ticklers and golliwogs, and roses and feathers. Up, up they thrust into the light and heat, shouting, laughing, squealing, as though they were being pushed by something, far below, and by the sun, far ahead of them--drawn up into the full, bright, dazzling radiance to...what? + + + + 14. AN IDEAL FAMILY. + + That evening for the first time in his life, as he pressed through the swing door and descended the three broad steps to the pavement, old Mr. Neave felt he was too old for the spring. Spring--warm, eager, restless-- was there, waiting for him in the golden light, ready in front of everybody to run up, to blow in his white beard, to drag sweetly on his arm. And he couldn't meet her, no; he couldn't square up once more and stride off, jaunty as a young man. He was tired and, although the late sun was still shining, curiously cold, with a numbed feeling all over. Quite suddenly he hadn't the energy, he hadn't the heart to stand this gaiety and bright movement any longer; it confused him. He wanted to stand still, to wave it away with his stick, to say, "Be off with you!" Suddenly it was a terrible effort to greet as usual--tipping his wide-awake with his stick--all the people whom he knew, the friends, acquaintances, shopkeepers, postmen, drivers. But the gay glance that went with the gesture, the kindly twinkle that seemed to say, "I'm a match and more for any of you"--that old Mr. Neave could not manage at all. He stumped along, lifting his knees high as if he were walking through air that had somehow grown heavy and solid like water. And the homeward-looking crowd hurried by, the trams clanked, the light carts clattered, the big swinging cabs bowled along with that reckless, defiant indifference that one knows only in dreams... + + It had been a day like other days at the office. Nothing special had happened. Harold hadn't come back from lunch until close on four. Where had he been? What had he been up to? He wasn't going to let his father know. Old Mr. Neave had happened to be in the vestibule, saying good-bye to a caller, when Harold sauntered in, perfectly turned out as usual, cool, suave, smiling that peculiar little half-smile that women found so fascinating. + + Ah, Harold was too handsome, too handsome by far; that had been the trouble all along. No man had a right to such eyes, such lashes, and such lips; it was uncanny. As for his mother, his sisters, and the servants, it was not too much to say they made a young god of him; they worshipped Harold, they forgave him everything; and he had needed some forgiving ever since the time when he was thirteen and he had stolen his mother's purse, taken the money, and hidden the purse in the cook's bedroom. Old Mr. Neave struck sharply with his stick upon the pavement edge. But it wasn't only his family who spoiled Harold, he reflected, it was everybody; he had only to look and to smile, and down they went before him. So perhaps it wasn't to be wondered at that he expected the office to carry on the tradition. H'm, h'm! But it couldn't be done. No business--not even a successful, established, big paying concern--could be played with. A man had either to put his whole heart and soul into it, or it went all to pieces before his eyes... + + And then Charlotte and the girls were always at him to make the whole thing over to Harold, to retire, and to spend his time enjoying himself. Enjoying himself! Old Mr. Neave stopped dead under a group of ancient cabbage palms outside the Government buildings! Enjoying himself! The wind of evening shook the dark leaves to a thin airy cackle. Sitting at home, twiddling his thumbs, conscious all the while that his life's work was slipping away, dissolving, disappearing through Harold's fine fingers, while Harold smiled... + + "Why will you be so unreasonable, father? There's absolutely no need for you to go to the office. It only makes it very awkward for us when people persist in saying how tired you're looking. Here's this huge house and garden. Surely you could be happy in--in--appreciating it for a change. Or you could take up some hobby." + + And Lola the baby had chimed in loftily, "All men ought to have hobbies. It makes life impossible if they haven't." + + Well, well! He couldn't help a grim smile as painfully he began to climb the hill that led into Harcourt Avenue. Where would Lola and her sisters and Charlotte be if he'd gone in for hobbies, he'd like to know? Hobbies couldn't pay for the town house and the seaside bungalow, and their horses, and their golf, and the sixty-guinea gramophone in the music-room for them to dance to. Not that he grudged them these things. No, they were smart, good-looking girls, and Charlotte was a remarkable woman; it was natural for them to be in the swim. As a matter of fact, no other house in the town was as popular as theirs; no other family entertained so much. And how many times old Mr. Neave, pushing the cigar box across the smoking-room table, had listened to praises of his wife, his girls, of himself even. + + "You're an ideal family, sir, an ideal family. It's like something one reads about or sees on the stage." + + "That's all right, my boy," old Mr. Neave would reply. "Try one of those; I think you'll like them. And if you care to smoke in the garden, you'll find the girls on the lawn, I dare say." + + That was why the girls had never married, so people said. They could have married anybody. But they had too good a time at home. They were too happy together, the girls and Charlotte. H'm, h'm! Well, well. Perhaps so... + + By this time he had walked the length of fashionable Harcourt Avenue; he had reached the corner house, their house. The carriage gates were pushed back; there were fresh marks of wheels on the drive. And then he faced the big white-painted house, with its wide-open windows, its tulle curtains floating outwards, its blue jars of hyacinths on the broad sills. On either side of the carriage porch their hydrangeas--famous in the town-- were coming into flower; the pinkish, bluish masses of flower lay like light among the spreading leaves. And somehow, it seemed to old Mr. Neave that the house and the flowers, and even the fresh marks on the drive, were saying, "There is young life here. There are girls--" + + The hall, as always, was dusky with wraps, parasols, gloves, piled on the oak chests. From the music-room sounded the piano, quick, loud and impatient. Through the drawing-room door that was ajar voices floated. + + "And were there ices?" came from Charlotte. Then the creak, creak of her rocker. + + "Ices!" cried Ethel. "My dear mother, you never saw such ices. Only two kinds. And one a common little strawberry shop ice, in a sopping wet frill." + + "The food altogether was too appalling," came from Marion. + + "Still, it's rather early for ices," said Charlotte easily. + + "But why, if one has them at all ..." began Ethel. + + "Oh, quite so, darling," crooned Charlotte. + + Suddenly the music-room door opened and Lola dashed out. She started, she nearly screamed, at the sight of old Mr. Neave. + + "Gracious, father! What a fright you gave me! Have you just come home? Why isn't Charles here to help you off with your coat?" + + Her cheeks were crimson from playing, her eyes glittered, the hair fell over her forehead. And she breathed as though she had come running through the dark and was frightened. Old Mr. Neave stared at his youngest daughter; he felt he had never seen her before. So that was Lola, was it? But she seemed to have forgotten her father; it was not for him that she was waiting there. Now she put the tip of her crumpled handkerchief between her teeth and tugged at it angrily. The telephone rang. A-ah! Lola gave a cry like a sob and dashed past him. The door of the telephone- room slammed, and at the same moment Charlotte called, "Is that you, father?" + + "You're tired again," said Charlotte reproachfully, and she stopped the rocker and offered her warm plum-like cheek. Bright-haired Ethel pecked his beard, Marion's lips brushed his ear. + + "Did you walk back, father?" asked Charlotte. + + "Yes, I walked home," said old Mr. Neave, and he sank into one of the immense drawing-room chairs. + + "But why didn't you take a cab?" said Ethel. "There are hundred of cabs about at that time." + + "My dear Ethel," cried Marion, "if father prefers to tire himself out, I really don't see what business of ours it is to interfere." + + "Children, children?" coaxed Charlotte. + + But Marion wouldn't be stopped. "No, mother, you spoil father, and it's not right. You ought to be stricter with him. He's very naughty." She laughed her hard, bright laugh and patted her hair in a mirror. Strange! When she was a little girl she had such a soft, hesitating voice; she had even stuttered, and now, whatever she said--even if it was only "Jam, please, father"--it rang out as though she were on the stage. + + "Did Harold leave the office before you, dear?" asked Charlotte, beginning to rock again. + + "I'm not sure," said Old Mr. Neave. "I'm not sure. I didn't see him after four o'clock." + + "He said--" began Charlotte. + + But at that moment Ethel, who was twitching over the leaves of some paper or other, ran to her mother and sank down beside her chair. + + "There, you see," she cried. "That's what I mean, mummy. Yellow, with touches of silver. Don't you agree?" + + "Give it to me, love," said Charlotte. She fumbled for her tortoise-shell spectacles and put them on, gave the page a little dab with her plump small fingers, and pursed up her lips. "Very sweet!" she crooned vaguely; she looked at Ethel over her spectacles. "But I shouldn't have the train." + + "Not the train!" wailed Ethel tragically. "But the train's the whole point." + + "Here, mother, let me decide." Marion snatched the paper playfully from Charlotte. "I agree with mother," she cried triumphantly. "The train overweights it." + + Old Mr. Neave, forgotten, sank into the broad lap of his chair, and, dozing, heard them as though he dreamed. There was no doubt about it, he was tired out; he had lost his hold. Even Charlotte and the girls were too much for him to-night. They were too...too...But all his drowsing brain could think of was--too rich for him. And somewhere at the back of everything he was watching a little withered ancient man climbing up endless flights of stairs. Who was he? + + "I shan't dress to-night," he muttered. + + "What do you say, father?" + + "Eh, what, what?" Old Mr. Neave woke with a start and stared across at them. "I shan't dress to-night," he repeated. + + "But, father, we've got Lucile coming, and Henry Davenport, and Mrs. Teddie Walker." + + "It will look so very out of the picture." + + "Don't you feel well, dear?" + + "You needn't make any effort. What is Charles for?" + + "But if you're really not up to it," Charlotte wavered. + + "Very well! Very well!" Old Mr. Neave got up and went to join that little old climbing fellow just as far as his dressing-room... + + There young Charles was waiting for him. Carefully, as though everything depended on it, he was tucking a towel round the hot-water can. Young Charles had been a favourite of his ever since as a little red-faced boy he had come into the house to look after the fires. Old Mr. Neave lowered himself into the cane lounge by the window, stretched out his legs, and made his little evening joke, "Dress him up, Charles!" And Charles, breathing intensely and frowning, bent forward to take the pin out of his tie. + + H'm, h'm! Well, well! It was pleasant by the open window, very pleasant-- a fine mild evening. They were cutting the grass on the tennis court below; he heard the soft churr of the mower. Soon the girls would begin their tennis parties again. And at the thought he seemed to hear Marion's voice ring out, "Good for you, partner...Oh, played, partner...Oh, very nice indeed." Then Charlotte calling from the veranda, "Where is Harold?" And Ethel, "He's certainly not here, mother." And Charlotte's vague, "He said--" + + Old Mr. Neave sighed, got up, and putting one hand under his beard, he took the comb from young Charles, and carefully combed the white beard over. Charles gave him a folded handkerchief, his watch and seals, and spectacle case. + + "That will do, my lad." The door shut, he sank back, he was alone... + + And now that little ancient fellow was climbing down endless flights that led to a glittering, gay dining-room. What legs he had! They were like a spider's--thin, withered. + + "You're an ideal family, sir, an ideal family." + + But if that were true, why didn't Charlotte or the girls stop him? Why was he all alone, climbing up and down? Where was Harold? Ah, it was no good expecting anything from Harold. Down, down went the little old spider, and then, to his horror, old Mr. Neave saw him slip past the dining-room and make for the porch, the dark drive, the carriage gates, the office. Stop him, stop him, somebody! + + Old Mr. Neave started up. It was dark in his dressing-room; the window shone pale. How long had he been asleep? He listened, and through the big, airy, darkened house there floated far-away voices, far-away sounds. Perhaps, he thought vaguely, he had been asleep for a long time. He'd been forgotten. What had all this to do with him--this house and Charlotte, the girls and Harold--what did he know about them? They were strangers to him. Life had passed him by. Charlotte was not his wife. His wife! + + ...A dark porch, half hidden by a passion-vine, that drooped sorrowful, mournful, as though it understood. Small, warm arms were round his neck. A face, little and pale, lifted to his, and a voice breathed, "Good-bye, my treasure." + + My treasure! "Good-bye, my treasure!" Which of them had spoken? Why had they said good-bye? There had been some terrible mistake. She was his wife, that little pale girl, and all the rest of his life had been a dream. + + Then the door opened, and young Charles, standing in the light, put his hands by his side and shouted like a young soldier, "Dinner is on the table, sir!" + + "I'm coming, I'm coming," said old Mr. Neave. + + + + 15. THE LADY'S MAID. + + Eleven o'clock. A knock at the door...I hope I haven't disturbed you, madam. You weren't asleep--were you? But I've just given my lady her tea, and there was such a nice cup over, I thought, perhaps... + + ...Not at all, madam. I always make a cup of tea last thing. She drinks it in bed after her prayers to warm her up. I put the kettle on when she kneels down and I say to it, "Now you needn't be in too much of a hurry to say your prayers." But it's always boiling before my lady is half through. You see, madam, we know such a lot of people, and they've all got to be prayed for--every one. My lady keeps a list of the names in a little red book. Oh dear! whenever some one new has been to see us and my lady says afterwards, "Ellen, give me my little red book," I feel quite wild, I do. "There's another," I think, "keeping her out of her bed in all weathers." And she won't have a cushion, you know, madam; she kneels on the hard carpet. It fidgets me something dreadful to see her, knowing her as I do. I've tried to cheat her; I've spread out the eiderdown. But the first time I did it--oh, she gave me such a look--holy it was, madam. "Did our Lord have an eiderdown, Ellen?" she said. But--I was younger at the time--I felt inclined to say, "No, but our Lord wasn't your age, and he didn't know what it was to have your lumbago." Wicked--wasn't it? But she's too good, you know, madam. When I tucked her up just now and seen--saw her lying back, her hands outside and her head on the pillow--so pretty--I couldn't help thinking, "Now you look just like your dear mother when I laid her out!" + + ...Yes, madam, it was all left to me. Oh, she did look sweet. I did her hair, soft-like, round her forehead, all in dainty curls, and just to one side of her neck I put a bunch of most beautiful purple pansies. Those pansies made a picture of her, madam! I shall never forget them. I thought to-night, when I looked at my lady, "Now, if only the pansies was there no one could tell the difference." + + ...Only the last year, madam. Only after she'd got a little--well--feeble as you might say. Of course, she was never dangerous; she was the sweetest old lady. But how it took her was--she thought she'd lost something. She couldn't keep still, she couldn't settle. All day long she'd be up and down, up and down; you'd meet her everywhere,--on the stairs, in the porch, making for the kitchen. And she'd look up at you, and she'd say--just like a child, "I've lost it, I've lost it." "Come along," I'd say, "come along, and I'll lay out your patience for you." But she'd catch me by the hand--I was a favourite of hers--and whisper, "Find it for me, Ellen. Find it for me." Sad, wasn't it? + + ...No, she never recovered, madam. She had a stroke at the end. Last words she ever said was--very slow, "Look in--the--Look--in--" And then she was gone. + + ...No, madam, I can't say I noticed it. Perhaps some girls. But you see, it's like this, I've got nobody but my lady. My mother died of consumption when I was four, and I lived with my grandfather, who kept a hair-dresser's shop. I used to spend all my time in the shop under a table dressing my doll's hair--copying the assistants, I suppose. They were ever so kind to me. Used to make me little wigs, all colours, the latest fashions and all. And there I'd sit all day, quiet as quiet--the customers never knew. Only now and again I'd take my peep from under the table-cloth. + + ...But one day I managed to get a pair of scissors and--would you believe it, madam? I cut off all my hair; snipped it off all in bits, like the little monkey I was. Grandfather was furious! He caught hold of the tongs--I shall never forget it--grabbed me by the hand and shut my fingers in them. "That'll teach you!" he said. It was a fearful burn. I've got the mark of it to-day. + + ...Well, you see, madam, he'd taken such pride in my hair. He used to sit me up on the counter, before the customers came, and do it something beautiful--big, soft curls and waved over the top. I remember the assistants standing round, and me ever so solemn with the penny grandfather gave me to hold while it was being done...But he always took the penny back afterwards. Poor grandfather! Wild, he was, at the fright I'd made of myself. But he frightened me that time. Do you know what I did, madam? I ran away. Yes, I did, round the corners, in and out, I don't know how far I didn't run. Oh, dear, I must have looked a sight, with my hand rolled up in my pinny and my hair sticking out. People must have laughed when they saw me... + + ...No, madam, grandfather never got over it. He couldn't bear the sight of me after. Couldn't eat his dinner, even, if I was there. So my aunt took me. She was a cripple, an upholstress. Tiny! She had to stand on the sofas when she wanted to cut out the backs. And it was helping her I met my lady... + + ...Not so very, madam. I was thirteen, turned. And I don't remember ever feeling--well--a child, as you might say. You see there was my uniform, and one thing and another. My lady put me into collars and cuffs from the first. Oh yes--once I did! That was--funny! It was like this. My lady had her two little nieces staying with her--we were at Sheldon at the time- -and there was a fair on the common. + + "Now, Ellen," she said, "I want you to take the two young ladies for a ride on the donkeys." Off we went; solemn little loves they were; each had a hand. But when we came to the donkeys they were too shy to go on. So we stood and watched instead. Beautiful those donkeys were! They were the first I'd seen out of a cart--for pleasure as you might say. They were a lovely silver-grey, with little red saddles and blue bridles and bells jing-a-jingling on their ears. And quite big girls--older than me, even-- were riding them, ever so gay. Not at all common, I don't mean, madam, just enjoying themselves. And I don't know what it was, but the way the little feet went, and the eyes--so gentle--and the soft ears--made me want to go on a donkey more than anything in the world! + + ...Of course, I couldn't. I had my young ladies. And what would I have looked like perched up there in my uniform? But all the rest of the day it was donkeys--donkeys on the brain with me. I felt I should have burst if I didn't tell some one; and who was there to tell? But when I went to bed--I was sleeping in Mrs. James's bedroom, our cook that was, at the time--as soon as the lights was out, there they were, my donkeys, jingling along, with their neat little feet and sad eyes...Well, madam, would you believe it, I waited for a long time and pretended to be asleep, and then suddenly I sat up and called out as loud as I could, "I do want to go on a donkey. I do want a donkey-ride!" You see, I had to say it, and I thought they wouldn't laugh at me if they knew I was only dreaming. Artful--wasn't it? Just what a silly child would think... + + ...No, madam, never now. Of course, I did think of it at one time. But it wasn't to be. He had a little flower-shop just down the road and across from where we was living. Funny--wasn't it? And me such a one for flowers. We were having a lot of company at the time, and I was in and out of the shop more often than not, as the saying is. And Harry and I (his name was Harry) got to quarrelling about how things ought to be arranged-- and that began it. Flowers! you wouldn't believe it, madam, the flowers he used to bring me. He'd stop at nothing. It was lilies-of-the-valley more than once, and I'm not exaggerating! Well, of course, we were going to be married and live over the shop, and it was all going to be just so, and I was to have the window to arrange...Oh, how I've done that window of a Saturday! Not really, of course, madam, just dreaming, as you might say. I've done it for Christmas--motto in holly, and all--and I've had my Easter lilies with a gorgeous star all daffodils in the middle. I've hung--well, that's enough of that. The day came he was to call for me to choose the furniture. Shall I ever forget it? It was a Tuesday. My lady wasn't quite herself that afternoon. Not that she'd said anything, of course; she never does or will. But I knew by the way that she kept wrapping herself up and asking me if it was cold--and her little nose looked...pinched. I didn't like leaving her; I knew I'd be worrying all the time. At last I asked her if she'd rather I put it off. "Oh no, Ellen," she said, "you mustn't mind about me. You mustn't disappoint your young man." And so cheerful, you know, madam, never thinking about herself. It made me feel worse than ever. I began to wonder...then she dropped her handkerchief and began to stoop down to pick it up herself--a thing she never did. "Whatever are you doing!" I cried, running to stop her. "Well," she said, smiling, you know, madam, "I shall have to begin to practise." Oh, it was all I could do not to burst out crying. I went over to the dressing-table and made believe to rub up the silver, and I couldn't keep myself in, and I asked her if she'd rather I...didn't get married. "No, Ellen," she said-- that was her voice, madam, like I'm giving you--"No, Ellen, not for the wide world!" But while she said it, madam--I was looking in her glass; of course, she didn't know I could see her--she put her little hand on her heart just like her dear mother used to, and lifted her eyes...Oh, madam! + + When Harry came I had his letters all ready, and the ring and a ducky little brooch he'd given me--a silver bird it was, with a chain in its beak, and on the end of the chain a heart with a dagger. Quite the thing! I opened the door to him. I never gave him time for a word. "There you are," I said. "Take them all back," I said, "it's all over. I'm not going to marry you," I said, "I can't leave my lady." White! he turned as white as a woman. I had to slam the door, and there I stood, all of a tremble, till I knew he had gone. When I opened the door--believe me or not, madam- -that man was gone! I ran out into the road just as I was, in my apron and my house-shoes, and there I stayed in the middle of the road...staring. People must have laughed if they saw me... + + ...Goodness gracious!--What's that? It's the clock striking! And here I've been keeping you awake. Oh, madam, you ought to have stopped me...Can I tuck in your feet? I always tuck in my lady's feet, every night, just the same. And she says, "Good night, Ellen. Sleep sound and wake early!" I don't know what I should do if she didn't say that, now. + + ...Oh dear, I sometimes think...whatever should I do if anything were to...But, there, thinking's no good to any one--is it, madam? Thinking won't help. Not that I do it often. And if ever I do I pull myself up sharp, "Now, then, Ellen. At it again--you silly girl! If you can't find anything better to do than to start thinking!..." + + + + + + + + A free ebook from http://manybooks.net/ \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..833e3a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +According to Merriam-Webster's Medical Dictionary, +pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis is a +pneumoconiosis caused by inhalation of very fine +silicate or quartz dust. diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/revenant.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/revenant.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b300a32 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/revenant.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5524 @@ + THE REVENANT + + + + + Written by + + Mark L Smith + + + + + Based on the novel by + + MICHAEL PUNKE + + + + + September 26, 2007 + + + Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. + + + - Samuel Johnson + + + + + Based on a true story + + + + + FADE IN: + + + EXT. UPPER MISSOURI RIVER/1820'S - EVENING + + ANGLE ON A SINGLE COTTONWOOD LEAF... brown and crisp... + clinging to its empty branch... the solitary sign of life on + an otherwise barren tree. + + A gust of wind... the leaf breaks free... flutters down, + landing in the slow current of the Missouri. The last leaf + of the fall, taking its final journey south. + + As it floats along the surface, rising and falling with the + current, all we can hear is the river's gentle movement... + the trickle of water... the splash of timid rapids... until + DISTANT VOICES invade this world... soft at first, but + growing louder... LAUGHTER... SINGING. + + And then our leaf CRASHES INTO A WOODEN BOARD... the BOW OF A + BOAT. We hear the VOICES EVEN CLEARER... MEN'S VOICES, as we + rise up the bow... see it's a FLATBOAT BEACHED ON A SANDBAR + at the center of the river. + + Beyond the flatboat are the voices... TWENTY MEN of the Rocky + Mountain Fur Company, making camp along the shore... hauling + wood, building campfires, pitching squares of canvas for + makeshift rooftops. And this camp is full of life because + these are some of the first men to ever see this untouched + wilderness... men with a whole new world just waiting for + them to claim their share. + + + EXT. CAMP - EVENING + + CAPTAIN ANDREW HENRY, (late 20's), dressed in a buckskin + jacket with long fringe... thick belt pulled tightly around + his waist with two pistols and a knife hanging from it. He + stands out among the others... like an imposter pretending to + be a member of some exclusive club. He pulls off one of his + gloves... examines the BLOOD-FILLED BLISTERS lining his palm. + + From across the camp, JOHN FITZGERALD, (40's), solid and + thick... dark eyes of a killer, watches Henry. He nudges + MACE BOONE, (40's), a thief in a previous life. + + FITZGERALD + Likely got a splinter. Can't + figure what to do without Mama here + to pull it out for him. + + Boone chuckles... spits in Henry's direction. + 2. + + BOONE + Need a doc, Captain? + + Henry looks up... sees Fitzgerald and Boone grinning at him. + He slides his glove back on. + + HENRY + Gather more wood. + + Fitzgerald waits for Henry to turn, then gives his back an + exaggerated salute. + + FITZGERALD + (under his breath) + Shame my Pap was a broken down + drunk. Else he could've bought me + a Captain's job too. + + Boone snickers. Fitzgerald stomps his boot onto a branch, + easily snaps it into two easy-to-carry pieces. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + We got a plan for these fires, + Captain, or are we roastin' berries + all the way up to Fort Union? + + HENRY + Glass and the others will be back + with some game, Fitzgerald. Just + make sure you have the fires ready. + + FITZGERALD + My supper's in the hands of a + hermit nigger, a kid and a dummy. + Hell, my belly feels full already. + + Fitzgerald's boot CRACKS another branch... and when it does, + we hear the EXPLOSION OF A GUNSHOT. + + CUT TO: + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - EVENING + + And a CLOUD OF SMOKE surrounding the LONG BARREL OF AN + ANSTADT RIFLE. + + The smoke fades, and at the other end of the rifle we see the + face of HUGH GLASS, (40's), African-American, one eye still + closed, as the other calmly stares down that barrel. + + VOICE (O.S.) + Shit fire, you got him, Mr. Glass! + 3. + + Glass lowers the rifle, as PIG GILMORE, (30's), fat and + filthy, races past. + + PIG (CONT'D) + Square as a barn door. + + JIM BRIDGER, (17), young eyes that have already seen a lot, + nods to Glass as he follows Pig. + + Glass watches Pig and Bridger trot through the trees to a + fallen ELK. Glass walks calmly after them, graceful in this + world... his rifle so comfortable in his hand it's like he + was born with it there. Pig crouches over the dead elk... + grins up at Glass. + + PIG (CONT'D) + Right where you said he'd be. + + BRIDGER + But bigger than we figured. Gonna + be a load to haul back to camp. + + PIG + Have to split it up I reckon. + + GLASS + Yep. Bridger'll take the tail, and + Pig you haul the rest. + + And Fitzgerald was right about Pig being a little slow, + because he just nods... pulls out his knife to cut the tail + off for Bridger. + + Bridger and Glass exchange a smile... until Glass notices + something... steps over the elk, his eyes locked on the + ground beside it. He runs a finger over the dirt... touches + a broken twig. + + BRIDGER + Another one close by? + + Glass doesn't answer... studies the track... feels the nearby + brush... inhales the scent from his hand. Bridger and Pig + watch him... exchange a confused glance. And then in a flash + of movement, Glass is on his feet, racing away. + + PIG + Hugh? + + Glass just keeps running. Pig and Bridger chase after him. + + CUT TO: + 4. + + + EXT. CAMP - EVENING + + The men building fires... laughing... enjoying themselves. + Boone on the outskirts, gathering branches. + + CUT TO: + + + GLASS - TEARING THROUGH THE WOODS... + + ...dodging trees... leaping over fallen logs... loading his + Anstadt as he runs. + + + BRIDGER AND PIG - CHASING AFTER GLASS... + + ...but not as gracefully. Pig trips... slams to the + ground... scrambles back to his feet to continue on. + + CUT TO: + + + BOONE - CARRYING AN ARMLOAD OF WOOD INTO CAMP... + + ...seeing other men playing cards. He stops along the edge + of camp, drops the wood to the ground. + + BOONE + No rule says I'm the only one + that's gotta gather this shit. + + The other men don't even notice. Then an ARROW WHIZZES + THROUGH THE AIR from behind Boone... THWACK... it hits him in + the back of the neck... erupts out the front of his throat. + + Boone stands frozen... confused... reaches up and grabs the + bloody arrow... finally drops to his knees. And that's when + a TRAPPER looks up... sees Boone on his knees, holding that + arrow, his mouth open like a dying fish. + + AND BEYOND BOONE ARE FORTY ARIKARA WARRIORS CHARGING THROUGH + THE TREES... FEATHERS RISING FROM THE MOHAWKS SPLITTING THEIR + SHAVED HEADS... FACES PAINTED FOR BATTLE. + + TRAPPER + `REE! + + WHOOSH... AN ARROW SAILS INTO THE TRAPPER'S CHEST, sending + him flying backward. The camp explodes into chaos... men + YELLING... grabbing for weapons... stumbling over each other + as they duck behind trees. + 5. + + + HENRY - PULLING THE PISTOLS FROM HIS BELT... + + ...taking aim at the attacking figures. + + The Arikara pour into camp, arrows flying... knives and + hatchets swinging. And this is a massacre... the Arikara + wading through the trappers... stabbing... clubbing... + scalping. This once peaceful world is filled with a sickening + mix of war cries and screams of death. + + Fitzgerald rises up from behind a log... aims his rifle... + BOOM... takes down one of the warriors. He starts reloading + as ANOTHER WARRIOR charges him... draws back his knife. + Fitzgerald pours the powder, but knows he isn't going to make + it in time... the warrior leaps toward him... + + ...BOOM... it's like the warrior hits an invisible wall... + flies back to the ground, very dead. Fitzgerald spins... + sees Glass and his Anstadt right behind him. + + GLASS + GET TO THE BOAT! + + Fitzgerald takes off... flips his rifle around, swings it + like a club across a warrior's head... WHACK! + + GLASS (CONT'D) + (TO HENRY) + THE BOAT, CAPTAIN! + + Henry shoves a TRAPPER toward the water. An arrow drives + into the trapper's leg... he goes down. Henry lifts the man + to pull him into the river, but several more arrows bury in + the man's back... he falls limp. Henry FIRES HIS PISTOLS, + dropping the WARRIOR. + + Bridger and Pig join Glass... splash into the river, SHOOTING + back at the attacking Arikara. The water deepens, and they + start swimming toward the flatboat. + + ARROWS HISS into the water all around them. + + Glass is still in the shallows... aims his pistol... BAM... + shoots an oncoming warrior... spins after the other men... + joins them as they near the flatboat. + + A final TRAPPER charges down the shore behind them. SEVERAL + WARRIORS pursue him. + + TRAPPER + WAIT! + 6. + + He aims his pistol over his shoulder as he runs... pulls the + trigger... CLICK... pulls it again... CLICK. But he's too + scared to stop his finger... CLICK... CLICK... CLICK... + THUD... as a hatchet buries in his back. He crashes face + first into the shallows. + + The Arikara leader, (ELK'S TONGUE), animal bones braided into + his mohawk, a NECKLACE OF HUMAN EARS around his neck, + straddles the dying man. Elk's Tongue grabs the Trapper by + the hair, and CUTS OFF HIS LEFT EAR, then holds it up to + Glass and the others, as he SCREAMS HIS WAR CRY. + + Glass and the men shove the flatboat off the sandbar... start + scrambling aboard, as arrows dart past them... drive into the + wooden boat. + + Suddenly a WARRIOR EXPLODES FROM THE WATER... tackles Bridger + as he climbs up the side of the flatboat... jerks him back + into the river. Bridger flails in the water... watches the + warrior raise his hatchet high to slam down... just as Glass + SLAMS THE BUTT OF HIS ANSTADT into the back of the Warrior's + head. + + The Warrior collapses under the surface. Glass grabs + Bridger's hand... drags him up onto the deck. + + BRIDGER + Thank you. + + But Glass is already gone... FIRING BACK AT THE ARIKARA, as + the current carries them away. + + VOICE (O.S.) + HEY! + + Pig looks over the side... sees a frantic WILLIAM ANDERSON + gripped to the edge. Pig pulls him onto the boat. + + Fitzgerald and Glass grab LONGPOLES... shove them against the + river's bottom to pick up speed. + + Henry stands on deck, watching as Elk's Tongue yanks a DYING + TRAPPER's head back by his hair to peel away his scalp. + + Henry drops his eyes... can't watch. The TRAPPER'S SCREAM + ECHOES OVER HIM. + + + EXT. MISSOURI RIVER/FLATBOAT - LATER + + Quiet and dark... the battle long over. The flatboat floats + with the gentle current. The NINE SURVIVING TRAPPERS are + scattered around the deck... + 7. + Glass digging an arrow out of WALLACE MURPHY'S SHOULDER... + Fitzgerald poling on one side with Anderson on the other... + STUBBY BILL VANCE and Pig standing patrol with their + rifles... Bridger doctoring a badly WOUNDED TRAPPER... and + Henry standing at the front of the flatboat, staring off + blankly. + + FITZGERALD + What's the plan, Captain? + + Henry's still lost in those screams. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + Captain! What the hell do we do + now? + + Henry snaps out of his stare... turns to the men... obviously + doesn't have an answer. + + ANDERSON + We're just floatin' farther from + Fort Union. + + Henry's eyes instinctively look to Glass. + + GLASS + The Missouri's no good. Not if the + `Ree's running it. + + FITZGERALD + So we just float the hell down to + Mexico or wherever else this river + takes us? + + GLASS + We get ourselves safe outta range, + then track another course up. + + FITZGERALD + Add weeks to the trip. + + BRIDGER + Better that than endin' up scalped + on the side of the river. + + FITZGERALD + (shoving him away) + Shut up, kid, you don't get no say + in this. + + Bridger starts to respond, but Fitzgerald's angry glare stops + him. + 8. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + (back to Henry) + And in case you hadn't noticed, + Captain, we're twelve men short of + what we were. + (off the badly wounded + TRAPPER) + Thirteen before long. + + HENRY + I understand our situation, Mr. + Fitzgerald. We do like Glass + said... put some distance between + us and the Arikara, then chart a + course to Fort Union. + + Fitzgerald MUMBLES UNDER HIS BREATH... rolls those dark eyes + to Anderson. Glass gives Henry a nod. + + + EXT. MISSOURI RIVER/FLATBOAT - NIGHT + + ANGLE ON THE BADLY WOUNDED TRAPPER... NOW DEAD... + + ...as hands push the body over the side of the boat. It + splashes into the water... floats downstream. + + We PULL BACK... see that the flatboat is beached along the + bank of the river. Glass and Pig watch the body drift away. + + PIG + Reckon it's better `an lettin' the + `Ree find him... take his ears... + slice what's left all to shit. + + Glass nods... steps down off the boat to Henry and the + others. They're gathered around a map spread out on the + ground. Henry runs his finger along a THIN BLUE LINE. + + HENRY + So we hike west to the Grand, then + follow it up to Fort Union. + + FITZGERALD + On foot? You got any idea how long + that's gonna take? It'll be winter + before we get there. + + ANDERSON + Unless we come across a post... + trade for some horses. + 9. + + GLASS + No posts that far out. + + FITZGERALD + So if we do this, we do every step + with our own feet. + + HENRY + We make camp here for the night, + then load supplies and head out for + the Grand at first light. + (BEAT) + And gather extra blankets `cause + there won't be any fires. + + More GRUMBLING from Fitzgerald and Anderson, as they move + toward the cover of trees. Bridger walks up beside Glass. + + BRIDGER + Thank you... for what you done back + there. + + GLASS + You'd have done the same for me. + + Bridger nods... he hopes so. + + + EXT. WOODS - NIGHT + + Pig on watch... sitting at the base of a tree, rifle across + his lap, eyes wide, scanning the darkness. All clear. He + peers back to camp... Fitzgerald, Anderson, Stubby Bill, and + Murphy wrapped in blankets... passing a bottle of whiskey + around. Bridger across from Fitzgerald, poking at the dirt + with a stick. Henry is off to one side, still studying that + map. Glass sits against a tree, cleaning his Anstadt rifle. + + Fitzgerald watches Glass a beat, then... + + FITZGERALD + You treat that Anstadt sweeter than + any woman, Glass. + + STUBBY BILL + Never seen a woman that could stop + a `Ree from three hundred feet. + + ANDERSON + I knew a particular big-breasted + redhead in Boston that might come + close. + 10. + + The others manage a small laugh. Glass just keeps working on + that rifle. + + FITZGERALD + Bring it over here for me to have a + look. + + Glass doesn't look up... wipes a rag down the barrel. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + Did you hear what I said, boy? + + Still nothing from Glass. And Fitzgerald doesn't like + that... the tension's growing. + + BRIDGER + (MUMBLING) + You seen it before. + + Fitzgerald turns that mean, drunken glare on Bridger. + + FITZGERALD + What'd you say, kid? + + Bridger hesitates a beat... until the other men's eyes force + a response. + + BRIDGER + (SOFTLY) + I said you shoulda already got a + look when he saved you with it + earlier. + + The camp falls still... nobody talks to Fitzgerald like + that... especially when he's drunk. There isn't a sound + except for Glass working methodically on his rifle... + + ...until the SWISH OF BLADE OVER LEATHER, as Fitzgerald tears + the blade from his belt... flings it into the dirt between + Bridger's legs... AN INCH BELOW HIS CROTCH. + + Fitzgerald stares at Bridger, daring him to react. But + Bridger's too scared... doesn't, so Fitzgerald just smiles. + + FITZGERALD + You're lucky you ain't a man yet. + (off the blade) + Else that mighta nicked somethin'. + + A few NERVOUS CHUCKLES from the others, hoping this is over. + And it is, because Fitzgerald reaches over and pulls the + knife away... cleans the dirty blade on Bridger's leg. + 11. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + And unlike you, I don't need savin' + by him or nobody else. Remember + that. + + Fitzgerald stands... wobbles just a bit. He slides the knife + back into his belt, then steadies his drunken gaze on Glass. + + The others exchange nervous glances... uh-oh. + + Fitzgerald walks to Glass... snaps his fingers for Glass' + Anstadt. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + Lemme see what's so special `bout + that shooter of yours. + + Nothing from Glass, so Fitzgerald grabs the barrel, but Glass + holds firm. + + GLASS + Middle of workin' on it. + + FITZGERALD + Well you can stop workin' on it, + and let me have a look like I said. + + Fitzgerald gives another tug, but Glass' grip only grows + tighter. His eyes roll up to Fitzgerald... make it clear he + isn't giving up his rifle. And they hold that stare just as + hard as they're holding Glass' rifle. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + You forget your place? + + GLASS + Best I can tell, my place is right + where I want it... on the smart end + of my rifle. + + Fitzgerald realizes the barrel he's holding is aimed right at + his stomach, while Glass' hand seems suddenly very close to + the trigger. But Fitzgerald's pride and that whiskey won't + let him lose this tug of war. + + FITZGERALD + I'd be careful if I was you, boy. + + And this thing's about to turn real ugly... until... + + HENRY + That's enough, Fitzgerald. Go + sober up and get to sleep. + (MORE) + 12. + HENRY(CONT'D) + If you're passed out when we break + camp tomorrow, I leave you here. + + Fitzgerald holds his glare on Glass, then releases the rifle, + shoving it back at Glass. He glances to Henry, and throws + back a big gulp from the bottle just for spite, before + backing away from Glass. + + FITZGERALD + That's the trouble with this part + of the world. No mirrors. Niggers + forget what color they are. + + Glass ignores Fitzgerald... goes back to his rifle. + Fitzgerald tosses the bottle at Anderson, then jerks his + blanket up... walks off to sleep by himself. + + Glass glances up from his work... just long enough to give + Bridger a nod. + + + EXT. CAMP - LATER + + Fitzgerald sleeping off that whiskey. The others snoring in + a cluster at the center of the camp. Henry lies there + awake... looks across to Glass, still sitting against the + tree, a HANDRAWN MAP in his lap, as his eyes pierce the + darkness. Henry eases over to Glass. + + HENRY + Can't sleep either? + + GLASS + Never like closin' my eyes when I'm + not sure who'll be standin' over me + when I open `em. + + HENRY + I keep thinking about Boone and the + others... how maybe I should've had + us make camp further up river. + + GLASS + The tracks I saw... those `Ree had + been tailin' us for a while. They'd + have gone as far north as it took. + (BEAT) + You're a good man, Captain. Soon + as you realize that, these others + will too. + + Henry likes hearing that... still isn't sure it's true. + 13. + + HENRY + Your years trappin' and guidin' out + here... have you had much + experience with the Arikara? + + GLASS + Enough to try and stay outta their + way. + + HENRY + (motions to Glass' map) + But you know this country well + enough to get us past them... up to + Fort Union? + + GLASS + I been here a long while. Whether + that gets us to Union or not... + + Henry waits for more... doesn't get it. So he just nods and + starts back to his blanket.... stops. + + HENRY + What Fitzgerald said earlier... he + doesn't speak for the rest. + + GLASS + He wasn't wrong. Truth is that's + what I prefer about this country... + it's got no eye for the color of a + man's skin. + + HENRY + (BEAT) + Try to get some sleep, Hugh. + + Henry climbs back under his blanket. Glass just sits there + looking at the map. + + ANGLE ON GLASS' MAP... + + ...primitive at best. Sketched mountains... winding blue + lines for rivers... small dots are scattered about with names + beside them... "Brazeau", "Talbot", "Union". And DOZENS OF + TRIANGLE PINE TREES have been drawn, representing the endless + wilderness. + + We TIGHTEN ON THOSE TRIANGLES until we're lost in them. + + DISSOLVE TO: + 14. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY + + Thick with trees. Henry leads the men single file through + the woods. They each have a canvas sack of supplies over one + shoulder, and their rifle in their hands. + + The only sound is their feet crunching the dried leaves, and + even that seems too loud as their eyes dart about, searching + for any sign of attack. + + STUBBY BILL + Shouldn't we have hit the Grand by + now? + + HENRY + We'll reach it soon enough. Glass + said to keep this course. + + FITZGERALD + Glass said. Too bad I don't see + him. + + PIG + That's on account he's up ahead + makin' sure it's clear, and you get + to keep your ears. + + Fitzgerald throws Pig an angry glance. + + FITZGERALD + Or he's run off and left us. + + BRIDGER + He wouldn't do that. + + Fitzgerald GRUNTS... doesn't believe that. + + FITZGERALD + My bet, that nigger's used to + runnin'. + + + EXT. WOODS - DAY + + Glass moves slowly through the brush, almost gliding... + subtle twists and turns to avoid branches and leaves... + careful not to leave his scent behind. And his eyes cut + through the trees as he moves... digging for any sign of + movement. + + He spots something at his feet... crouches down, running his + finger over the SMALL ANIMAL TRACK in the dirt. + 15. + + O.S. RUSTLING snaps his head up... to the TREMBLING OF + BUSHES... growing harder... whatever's in there is coming + toward Glass. He calmly raises his rifle... presses the + stock firmly against his shoulder... closes one eye as he + takes steady aim down the long barrel... + + ...to the shapes rumbling out of the brush... TWO BEAR CUBS + playfully wrestling. + + Glass lowers the Anstadt... looks past the cubs for something + else... but the woods are empty. A SUDDEN FEAR FILLS GLASS' + EYES... + + ...he spins... right into the GIANT GRIZZLY SWINGING ITS PAW + AT HIM... hitting him across the side of the neck. The + animal's razor claws tear into Glass' throat, as the force + sends him flying through the air. + + Glass sails into a thick tree... the CRACK OF HIS LEG + SNAPPING against the trunk. The rifle falls from his hand. + The Grizzly lets out a massive ROAR... charges Glass. Glass + crawls to the Anstadt... grabs it... has just enough time to + tilt the rifle toward the bear... BOOM. + + CUT TO: + + + HENRY - HEARING THE BLAST. + + HENRY + UP AHEAD! + + Henry takes off at full sprint. The other men follow. + + CUT TO: + + + GLASS - AS THE BEAR LEAPS ON TOP OF HIM... + + ...tosses Glass aside with a powerful swing. Glass hits the + ground with a PAINFUL THUD. He starts CRAWLING AWAY, pulling + the KNIFE from his belt as the bear rises up like a giant + behind him... swings... tears its claws across Glass's back, + shredding deep into his flesh. + + Glass is fighting for his life now... flailing with the + knife... slicing it across the bear's paw as it whips past + him. The wound slows the bear enough for Glass to start + crawling again. + + But the Grizzly doesn't give Glass the chance... ROARS... is + on him in a flash, a BLUR OF CLAWS AND FANGS... tearing + across Glass' head... ripping into his face... his chest. + 16. + + Glass drives his knife into the bear again... deep... trying + to tear through the layers of flesh to something more vital. + + CUT TO: + + + HENRY - LEADING THE CHARGE THROUGH THE FOREST. + + CUT TO: + + + GLASS AND THE GRIZZLY - FIGHTING THIS EPIC BATTLE... + + ...locked in a death grip... tumbling along the ground... + trading violent blows... Glass' blade versus the Grizzly's + claws and fangs... snapping small trees as they roll over + them... toward the edge of a steep embankment... + + ... and ROLL DOWN... spinning over and over... each ROARING + AT THE OTHER... Glass pounding the knife into the bear again + and again as they fall... neither willing to surrender as + they careen down the slope at a dizzying pace, then SLAM TO + THE BOTTOM WITH A CRUNCH. And the forest falls still... + Glass hidden somewhere beneath the massive animal... both + deathly motionless. + + + EXT. WOODS - DAY + + Bridger's the first to reach the battleground... sees the TWO + FRIGHTENED BEAR CUBS SCURRY AWAY. He follows the bloody + ground and crushed underbrush to the top of the slope... + looks down to the mass of flesh at the bottom. + + BRIDGER + Christ Almighty. + + Henry, Pig, and the others reach the edge. + + HENRY + Glass! + + No answer. And all they can see is the bear, so they scan + the trees. + + PIG + HUGH! + + Still nothing. So Bridger takes off down the slope... losing + his balance but rolling back to his feet. He reaches the + bear... sees GLASS' MANGLED ARM STICKING OUT FROM BENEATH IT. + 17. + + BRIDGER + He's down here! + + Bridger uses all his strength to push the bear off, as the + other men scramble down. But Bridger can't budge the massive + carcass... not until Stubby Bill and Pig join in... shove the + animal over, revealing the bloody mass that is Hugh Glass... + + ...his throat is torn wide open... scalp peeled back from + just above his eyebrows, hanging off the skull... stomach and + chest a gruesome design of gashes and cuts. His right leg + is snapped, the jagged bone jutting out through the skin. + + Bridger's legs give out... he drops to a knee and vomits. + + MURPHY + Oh, Jesus. + + STUBBY BILL + He's tore to pieces. + + The men stare down at Glass' corpse. + + ANDERSON + Least he took that Grizz down with + him. + + FITZGERALD + Wished he'da done it without firing + his rifle. If there wasn't no `Ree + around before, there will be now. + + And that's all Pig can stand... he TACKLES FITZGERALD... they + roll to the ground. And in a flash Fitzgerald is on top, + raining punches down on Pig... turning his face into a bloody + mess. + + Henry and Anderson grab Fitzgerald... drag him off. + + HENRY + THAT'S ENOUGH! + + Then somehow, GLASS GASPS... this horrible, GUTTURAL MOAN. + + BRIDGER + Holy Christ, he's alive. + + Henry and Bridger fall to their knees beside Glass. Glass + looks up at the men, tries to focus through the blood and + pain. His breathing is just a GURGLING WHEEZE... bubbles + forming along the deep gashes in his throat with each gasp. + 18. + + HENRY + Get me some water. + + Stubby Bill tosses Henry his canteen. Henry empties it over + Glass' throat... his face and scalp. The water hits the + wounds and immediately transforms to blood. + + BRIDGER + Oh, Jesus... Jesus. + + Glass lifts a trembling hand to his throat... feels the + gaping wound. His eyes widen in horror. He COUGHS... the + air splashes blood up from the open wounds in his throat. + + HENRY + It's okay, Hugh. + (pushing Glass' hand away) + You're going to be fine. + + Henry spins his head away from Glass. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + (WHISPERS) + I need some rags before he bleeds + out. + + Pig whips a shirt from his bag... shreds it. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + And your whiskey. + + Pig tosses a bottle to Henry. Henry pours it over the + gashes. The BURNING PAIN arches Glass... he CRIES OUT in + that same horrific moan. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + Hold him down, Bridger, goddammit. + + Bridger throws his weight against Glass' shoulders. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + The rest of you spread out... scout + a circle around us. Fitzgerald, + you and Anderson take west and + north. Murphy and Mike south and + east. Watch for anyone that + might've heard that shot. + + And for the first time, Henry seems like a leader of men... + firm... in complete control... just as Glass said he would + be. So the men hurry off to their positions. + 19. + + PIG + What about me, Cap? + + HENRY + Get down here and help me tie off + these wounds best we can. + + Pig shakily joins Henry in wrapping the wounds. The blood + keeps seeping out, soaking the rags. + + PIG + It won't stop bleedin'. + + HENRY + Shut up, Pig. + (TO GLASS) + We're fixing you up, Hugh. + + Glass is like a shredded rag doll... dazed eyes staring up at + them as they work on his wounds... wrapping the rags around + his throat... laying his scalp back over his skull, and tying + another rag around it and under his jaw to hold it in place. + + Bridger wipes the blood from Glass' face. + + BRIDGER + It's gonna be fine, Mr. Glass. + + Henry glances down to the PUDDLE OF BLOOD spilling out over + his knees... oozing out from beneath Glass. + + HENRY + Roll him over... easy. + + They gently push Glass onto one side, revealing DEEP, JAGGED, + GASHES running across the width of Glass' back. Henry stares + at the open flesh, ready to panic again... but he doesn't. + Instead he looks to Pig. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + Get me the kit. We need to stitch + his back up. + + BRIDGER + What about the rest of him? + + HENRY + He's losing more blood back here. + (off the throat) + And I don't know what to do with + that yet. + 20. + + Pig digs out a thick needle and spool of black thread... + hands it to Henry. Henry grabs the whiskey bottle. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + I'm sorry for how this is about to + burn, Hugh. + + Henry pours the whiskey over Glass' back. And the pain must + be excruciating, because Glass lets out a HORRIBLE WAIL. + + CUT TO: + + + EXT. WOODS - CONTINUOUS + + Fitzgerald and Anderson standing watch together in the trees. + Glass' scream erupts through the trees, and they both + immediately crouch down to a knee... out of sight to anyone + out there that might have heard that. + + ANDERSON + They're torturin' the poor bastard. + + FITZGERALD + And riskin' gettin' us killed in + the process. Proper thing would be + to end it for him quick. + + ANDERSON + `Less he could pull through. + + FITZGERALD + You seen what that grizz did to + him. Shit, Glass'll be dead inside + a hour. We all will be if he keeps + screamin' like that. + + + EXT. WOODS - LATER + + SERIES OF SHOTS + + HENRY, BRIDGER AND PIG WORKING OVER GLASS... Bridger and Pig + pressing Glass' scalp down, as Henry slides the needle and + thread through the skin, suturing the wound. + + HENRY CLEANING GLASS' SHREDDED THROAT. + + BRIDGER AND PIG HOLDING THE SCREAMING GLASS DOWN AS HENRY + SNAPS GLASS' LEG BACK IN PLACE. + 21. + + FITZGERALD PEERING BACK THROUGH THE TREES... to Henry + doctoring Glass. Fitzgerald shakes his head in anger... + turns back to the darkening forest. + + + EXT. WOODS - EVENING + + Glass rests unconscious on the ground. Two branches act as a + splint on his leg. A blanket covers his body... his face is + like a swollen, disfigured, Frankenstein's monster... + stitches of black thread holding it in place. + + Henry crouches a short distance away from him, rinsing his + hands under a canteen. Bridger and Pig stand beside him. + + BRIDGER + What now? + + HENRY + We wait. Does he have any kin you + know of? + + PIG + He keeps to hisself. Never + mentioned none. + + HENRY + Go get the others. Tell `em we're + making camp here for the night. + + Pig starts hustling away. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + And gather some wood, but make sure + it's dry. We don't want much smoke + when we cook that grizzly. + + + ANGLE ON THE MASSIVE BEAR... + + ...lying dead on the ground, its claws and fangs soaked with + blood... Glass' blood. + + DISSOLVE TO: + + + EXT. WOODS - NIGHT + + And what's left of the grizzly... its fur cut away... slabs + of flesh butchered from its skeleton. + + A fire burns at the center of camp... a chunk of meat roasts + above the flame. The men sit around the fire... + 22. + Murphy reaches up... tears a strip of meat from the roast, + tossing it in his mouth. The men are silent... the pall of + Glass' attack still hanging over them. + + Bridger rises... walks to the Grizzly... crouches down over + it, grabbing the animal's enormous paw. It dwarfs his own + hand, as he examines the claws. Bridger pulls out his + knife... stretches the claw out to its full length, and CUTS + IT OFF AT ITS BASE. + + FITZGERALD (O.S.) + What makes you think you earned a + claw? + + Bridger turns with a start... sees Fitzgerald standing over + him, meat in his hand... his lips shiny with the grease. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + You didn't take that grizz down. + + BRIDGER + It ain't for me. + + Bridger stands... walks over to the sleeping Glass. Pig's + already crouched beside him. Bridger lifts Glass' small + leather POSSIBLES BAG from beside the Anstadt rifle... drops + the claw inside... throws a look back to Fitzgerald. + + Pig holds his palm out just above Glass' mouth. + + PIG + I can feel some air outta his + mouth. Maybe Captain sealed up his + throat proper, huh? + (off Bridger's silence) + Whatta you figure his odds are, + Jim? + + Bridger stares down at what's left of Glass. + + BRIDGER + Long. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - MORNING + + The sun peeks over the horizon, sending an orange glow across + the treetops. + + + EXT. CAMP - MORNING + + ANGLE ON GLASS... + 23. + + ...unconscious but alive... his raspy breaths are weak and + staggered. The SHADOWS OF MEN hover over him... + + ...because Henry and the others surround Glass, staring down + at him. + + MURPHY + What that bear did to him... I + didn't expect he'd last this long. + + ANDERSON + I seen a fella go a week once after + a lion jumped him. Fever finally + finished him off. + + STUBBY BILL + Whatta we do, Cap? + + A long beat, then... + + HENRY + We give him his chance. + + Henry turns and walks away. + + + EXT. CAMP - NIGHT + + The fire has burned down to nothing. The men sleep scattered + about. Murphy stands just outside of camp, rifle ready, + keeping watch. + + Glass lies there awake... eyes wide open... a living corpse. + And his breathing is just as labored as before... raspy, + blood-soaked strains. + + Fitzgerald tosses and turns, listening to Glass' gurgling. + + FITZGERALD + You ain't doin' him or us no + favors, Captain, lettin' him suffer + that way. + + Henry's awake, but doesn't answer. He's holding his pistol + in his hand, as he stares at Glass... thinking the same thing + Fitzgerald just said. But he doesn't move... not yet. + + Fitzgerald angrily wraps a blanket around his head, muffling + the sound. Bridger sits beyond him... smiles at Fitzgerald's + misery, as he attaches the BEAR CLAW TO A THIN LEATHER + STRAP... a necklace. + 24. + + + EXT. CAMP - MORNING + + Bridger kneels over a SHIVERING GLASS, holding wet rags on + his head. Pig and Henry stand over them, watching. + + Fitzgerald, Anderson, Murphy and Stubby Bill sit huddled + across camp. + + ANDERSON + Fever's hit. Won't be long now. + + FITZGERALD + I seen a bad one drag on days. + + ANGLE ON GLASS... + + ...eyes open... he can hear every word. + + FITZGERALD (O.S.) (cont'd) + Insides shut down... flesh starts + to spoil and turn. Ain't no way + for... + + HENRY (O.S.) + Quiet, Fitzgerald. + + FITZGERALD... + + ...points a stick at Glass. + + FITZGERALD + (TO HENRY) + We keep sittin' here watchin' him + die, only gives the `Ree more + chance to find us. + + Henry doesn't answer... just keeps staring down at Glass. + + BRIDGER + He's burnin', Cap. Water turns to + boil as soon as it touches him. + + Henry considers this, then... + + HENRY + Pig, take Anderson and scout ahead. + Grand should be just west of here. + Find us the best route. + + FITZGERALD + Tryin' to buy Glass time don't make + sense for the rest of us, Captain. + 25. + + HENRY + (TO PIG) + Get movin'. + + Pig nods... grabs his gear. He and Anderson take off out of + camp. Henry turns... walks over to Fitzgerald and Stubby + Bill. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + (WHISPERS) + You two can start digging a grave. + + Fitzgerald tosses the stick away. + + FITZGERALD + Least it's a step in the right + direction. + + + EXT. CAMP - LATER + + Fitzgerald is covered in dirt and sweat, standing knee deep + in Glass' grave. Stubby Bill stands over him. + + FITZGERALD + Any coyote digs that deep deserves + the meal. + + He takes Stubby Bill's hand... pulls himself out. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + Glass won't know the difference no + ways. + + Pig and Anderson walk back into camp. + + PIG + Found it, Cap. Right where Glass + had us headed. + + ANDERSON + No more than a mile or so out. + + Henry looks to Bridger, still doctoring Glass. + + HENRY + We could build a litter. Haul him + with us. + + ANDERSON + It's rocky and steep goin'. + + Henry looks to Pig for an honest answer. + 26. + + PIG + Marshy and thick on the other side. + We could try it, but... + + Pig shakes his head. + + FITZGERALD + I signed on as a trapper, not a + goddamn mule. + + BRIDGER + (TO HENRY) + Shape he's in... I don't see no way + he'd make bein' drug. + + Henry nods, his mind racing for a solution. And before long, + his hand is back on that pistol. He pulls it from his belt. + + The other men all drop their heads... except for + Fitzgerald... he's ready to see this end. + + Henry stares down at Glass. + + HENRY + Lay that rag over his eyes, Mr. + Bridger. + + BRIDGER + But, Captain. + + HENRY + Do it. + + Bridger hesitates, then reaches to fold the wet rag down over + Glass' wide open eyes. And Glass must know what's happening, + because his eyes roll up to Bridger's... his lips try to form + a word... his hand digs its fingers into the dirt beside him. + + CUT TO: + + + GLASS' POV - ON BRIDGER... + + ...the boy looking away as he pulls the rag over our eyes... + everything goes black. + + HENRY (O.S.) + Step clear, Mr. Bridger. + + A LONG BEAT in the dark, waiting for that gunshot, then... + + BACK TO SCENE + 27. + + Henry standing over Glass... pistol aimed down. His hand + trembles slightly. + + Pig turns away... presses his hands over his ears. + + Bridger takes a few steps back... stares at Henry. + + Henry struggles to steady his aim, until finally it calms... + because he's thought of something else. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + There's a seventy dollar bonus from + the Rocky Mountain Fur Company to + the two men that stay with Glass... + see this through. Then give him a + proper burial. + + BRIDGER + I'll stay with him... money or not. + + PIG + Same here. + + HENRY + I can't let you stay back, Pig. + Without Glass, I'll need you to + scout. + + Henry looks to the others... they all drop their eyes... not + interested. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + Just need one more. + + FITZGERALD + Two won't stand much chance against + a party of `Ree, Captain, and + seventy dollars won't buy me a new + setta ears. + + HENRY + A hundred then. + + Still nothing from the others. + + BRIDGER + They can have my share too. I owe + Glass that at least. + + FITZGERALD + That case I'll hang back with the + kid. I don't mind fallin' a day or + so behind for two hundred. + 28. + + HENRY + But Glass is to be cared for until. + Understood? + + FITZGERALD + (motions to Bridger) + I'll let the young doctor do his + job. + + Henry hesitates... doesn't like this, but knows it's the best + option left. + + HENRY + The rest gather your gear. + + Bridger reaches down... lifts the rag from Glass' face. + Their eyes meet... Bridger gives Glass a nod. + + + EXT. CAMP - LATER + + Henry and the others are loaded and ready to leave. Pig + bends down over Glass. + + PIG + I'll see ya at Fort Union, Hugh. + + Glass's glazed eyes focus on Pig. He moves the only thing he + can... BLINKS a "yes" back at him. + + HENRY + (to Fitzgerald and + BRIDGER) + As long as necessary. + + BRIDGER + I'll look after him. + + Henry turns... leads the men into the trees... toward the + Grand... toward Fort Union. + + + EXT. CAMP - NIGHT + + What's left of a small fire is nothing but smoldering ash. + Bridger crouches beside Glass, pouring a thin stream of broth + between his lips. Fitzgerald reaches in... grabs Glass' + Anstadt leaning against the tree. + + FITZGERALD + I'll take first watch. + 29. + + BRIDGER + Not with his rifle. + + FITZGERALD + Trust me, kid, he ain't gonna be + needin' it tonight. + + Fitzgerald disappears into the trees. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY + + Pig stands on a ridge, scouting a course. He waves back to + Henry and the others. They start toward him. + + + EXT. CAMP - EVENING + + Glass conscious on the ground... that same labored breathing. + + CUT TO: + + + GLASS' POV - ON FITZGERALD... + + ...smiling down at Glass as he grabs the Anstadt, holds it... + runs his hand down the barrel, as comfortable as if it were + his own. + + FITZGERALD + You were right to protect this. + + Then he disappears... and we're left alone, staring up at the + branches above us... the evening sky... accompanied by Glass' + deathly breaths. + + DISSOLVE TO: + + + EXT. WILDERNESS/CREEK - DAY + + Bridger kneels beside the stream, filling canteens. + + + EXT. CAMP - DAY + + Fitzgerald sits bored against a tree, twisting a knife in his + hands... flipping it point first into the dirt... grabbing... + repeating... twist... flip... thwack. And as he does, his + eyes are locked on Glass. + 30. + + Finally, Fitzgerald snaps the knife from the dirt, stands, + and walks over to Glass. Glass is asleep. Fitzgerald + crouches down over him... eyes his red, infected wounds. + + FITZGERALD + (WHISPERS) + When are you gonna die, boy? + + Fitzgerald reaches out with the blade... gently touches one + of the threads holding Glass' throat together. And when he + does, GLASS' EYES FLY OPEN... focus on Fitzgerald. + + Fitzgerald doesn't even flinch... just holds that knife tip + there against Glass' throat. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + I'm nearly a week behind Henry's + bunch on accounta havin' to tend to + you. Be easier on us all if you'd + take that last breath. + + The two men hold a stare... until Fitzgerald pulls back the + knife... grabs a bloodstained rag from beside them... balls + it up in his fist. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + I could help ya with that if you'd + like. Muzzle ya right now... end + all this sufferin' quick and easy. + Nobody'd ever know you give up. + + Fitzgerald moves the rag over Glass' nose and mouth... holds + it there, just inches above. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + You just gimme a blink if you want + me to do it. + + Glass locks his eyes on Fitzgerald's... both men unblinking. + + A DROP OF BLOOD hangs from the rag... finally falls... lands + on Glass' lips. + + Fitzgerald almost smiles, waiting for the inevitable... as + Glass stares back, fighting the urge to blink. + + Suddenly Bridger's hand clamps down on Fitzgerald's shoulder. + Fitzgerald spins... startled. + + BRIDGER (O.S.) + What's goin' on? + 31. + + Fitzgerald jumps with a start, sees it's Bridger, and is + pissed that Bridger scared him... and interrupted his + business. He rises quickly, planting his meaty hand in + Bridger's chest, and SLAMMING HIM BACK AGAINST A TREE. + + FITZGERALD + Don't you ever question me, you + little piss-ant. + + Bridger tries to fight back, but Fitzgerald's too strong... + holds him pressed against the tree... slams a heavy elbow + into Bridger's mouth, splitting his lip. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + I'd just as soon leave both you and + your nigger here to rot. `Cept + killin' you ain't worth givin' up + your share. + (LEANS CLOSER) + But that don't mean I can't be + coaxed into changin' my mind. + + Fitzgerald shoves him away... Bridger stumbles and falls. + Fitzgerald tosses the bloody rag at him. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + And I was just doin' your job... + cleanin' him up. + + Fitzgerald grabs Glass' Anstadt, almost daring Bridger to say + something. Of course Bridger doesn't. Fitzgerald walks + toward the trees. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + Why don't ya pour some more broth + down his throat... keep him alive + another week so we can fall farther + back. End up walkin' all the way + to Fort Union on our own. `Ree + would love to poach on just two. + (turns to Bridger) + I promise ya, you'll look a helluva + lot worse than Glass when they're + done with you. + + Bridger watches him disappear into the trees... wipes the + blood from his lip with a trembling hand. + + DISSOLVE TO: + 32. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT + + From high above the trees. The world is silent... peaceful... + until SEVERAL STARTLED CROWS shoot up from the treetops. + + CUT TO: + + + BLACK... + + ...the sound of FRENZIED BREATHING. + + FITZGERALD (V.O.) + (PANICKED WHISPER) + Bridger! Get your ass up! + + Dim light fills the frame... then FITZGERALD'S FACE right in + front of us. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + `Ree. + + + BRIDGER - SCRAMBLES UP FROM UNDER HIS BLANKET, WIPING THE + SLEEP FROM HIS FRIGHTENED EYES. + + BRIDGER + What? + + FITZGERALD + Keep quiet. I was down at the + creek... there's twenty of `em at + least, comin' this way. + + BRIDGER + Oh, shit. Whatta we do? + + FITZGERALD + We run. Now. + + And Fitzgerald's just whispering, but it's with such power + that Bridger has no response... watches as Fitzgerald gathers + his bag, starts throwing in food and supplies. Bridger is + scared out of his mind... does the same... grabs for his + rifle, resting near Glass. + + Bridger freezes... in his panic, he'd forgotten all about + Glass. And now the wounded man's eyes stare up at him... + understanding perfectly what's happening around him. + + BRIDGER + What about Glass? + 33. + + FITZGERALD + He's on his own, same as us. + + BRIDGER + I can't leave him. + + FITZGERALD + Then I'm talkin' to a dead man. + + Glass gives Bridger the slightest of nods... go. But + Bridger's frozen... doesn't know what to do... until + Fitzgerald shoves him back to life. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + Move. + + Glass reaches out a weak hand out for his Anstadt... clawing + for his weapon. Bridger starts to hand it to Glass, but + Fitzgerald grabs it first. + + BRIDGER + What're you doin'? He needs that. + + FITZGERALD + He couldn't hold it if you tarred + it to his hands. + + Glass strains to hold out his trembling hand for his gun. + + BRIDGER + It's his goddamn rifle! That's all + he's got! + + FITZGERALD + And more than he'll need. + + Fitzgerald scoops up Glass' knife as well. + + BRIDGER + We can't leave him with nothin'. + + But Fitzgerald is already sprinting away... disappearing into + the trees. Glass stares after him, his once-calm eyes + suddenly filled with a rage. And Bridger's frozen again, + lost between duty and fear... until finally, he just shakes + his head and takes off into the trees. + + Glass's empty hand falls back to the ground... he tries to + yell out in anger, but his throat EXPLODES IN PAIN. His hand + digs into the dirt... pulls him over onto his side. He flops + over to his stomach... GASPS IN PAIN... + 34. + then using his one good arm, drags himself over the dirt, his + healthy leg pushing weakly at the ground, trying to propel + him forward... a futile chase after Fitzgerald and Bridger... + + ...inch by inch... farther than he's been in days. But it's + still only a few yards, and now he lies in the open... a + clear target for the Arikara. + + Then he spots that hole... the grave Fitzgerald dug for him. + He grunts into action... grabs SEVERAL, THIN BROKEN BRANCHES + from the ground, then claws forward, each movement + excruciating... until finally, he reaches the hole, and ROLLS + INTO IT... lands with a PAINFUL CRUNCH. + + He rests there a moment, trying to regain any ounce of + strength. Finally he fights through the pain... shoves the + branches back up... spreading them across the hole as + camouflage... a thin veil, but all that Glass has. + + He lies there defenseless... INSIDE HIS OWN GRAVE. Hiding... + listening for the Arikara's arrival... waiting to die. + + CUT TO: + + + GLASS' POV - OUT OF THE GRAVE... TIGHT AND CLAUSTROPHOBIC... + JUST THE NIGHT SKY THROUGH THOSE BRANCHES... AND THE SOUND OF + HIS PAINFUL BREATHS. + + DISSOLVE TO: + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - MORNING + + Cold and grey. Fitzgerald crouches beside a small fire, + warming his hands. WHISPS OF SMOKE rise into the sky. + + FITZGERALD + We ran the better part of six + hours. Had to gain some ground on + Henry and them others. + + Bridger sits at the base of a tree, not listening... + staring... his mind replaying the desertion of Glass over and + over. He notices the smoke. + + BRIDGER + Best douse that smoke before them + `Ree spot it. + + FITZGERALD + We put enough distance between us + and them. And it's too damn cold + to go without one. + 35. + + BRIDGER + All we know, they hoofed it through + the night same as us. + + FITZGERALD + (shakes his head) + A dozen `Ree can't make the time us + two did. + + Bridger looks back to the trees... then considers something, + stares at Fitzgerald a beat, before... + + BRIDGER + It was twenty earlier. + + FITZGERALD + What? + + BRIDGER + When you woke me... you said you'd + spotted twenty `Ree. + + FITZGERALD + A dozen... twenty. I wasn't in a + mood to count feathers. Hell, one + `Ree woulda been too many. + + Fitzgerald empties his canteen over the fire, killing the + flames. Bridger stares at the water pouring out. + + BRIDGER + What was you even doin' down at the + creak in the middle of the night? + (BEAT) + I'd already brought plenty a water. + + Fitzgerald doesn't answer. Bridger tightens his grip on his + rifle... slowly rises. + + BRIDGER (CONT'D) + Answer me. + + FITZGERALD + Don't start questionin' me on + accounta you feelin' guilty `bout + leavin' your nigger buddy behind. + + Bridger musters up all the courage he can... aims his rifle + at Fitzgerald. + + BRIDGER + ANSWER ME OR I BLOW YOUR DAMN HEAD + OFF! + 36. + + Fitzgerald stares back at Bridger and his rifle... eyes + taking in everything... a snake sizing up its prey. Then + Fitzgerald stands... takes a step toward the boy. + + FITZGERALD + What're you askin'? Why it was you + turned your back on Glass? Why you + let him die to save your own sorry + skin? + (BEAT) + `Cause you was scared shitless, + that's why. + + BRIDGER + The `Ree... did you see `em? + (off Fitzgerald's silence) + DID YOU SEE `EM? + + FITZGERALD + (MOVING CLOSER) + Not a one. + + Bridger CRIES OUT... starts to pull the trigger, when + Fitzgerald's hand flashes out, grabbing the barrel, and + shoving the butt back into Bridger's face... THWACK. + + The force of the blow knocks Bridger back to the ground, but + Fitzgerald holds his grip on the rifle barrel... flips it + around to aim it at the boy. Blood drips down Bridger's head + as he stares up at his rifle pointed down. + + Fitzgerald's finger tightens on the trigger. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + So that there is the answer to your + question. + + And Fitzgerald PULLS THE TRIGGER... AND BRIDGER SQUEEZES HIS + EYES SHUT IN FEAR... THEN CLICK. Bridger opens his eyes... + sees Fitzgerald sneering down at him. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + And the next time you aim to kill + somebody, kid, best remember your + gun won't fire without a flint. + + Fitzgerald tosses the rifle back at Bridger, and turns away. + Bridger's face flushes with rage and humiliation... he + charges Fitzgerald from behind... tackles him to the + ground... starts pounding Fitzgerald with punches. + + A few of them land, but it's only a moment before Fitzgerald + is back in control... HEAD-BUTTING Bridger off of him... + 37. + tossing him away, then KICKING BRIDGER IN THE STOMACH... + AGAIN. He grabs his knife... is ready to finish Bridger + off... + + ...but Fitzgerald is smart enough to know that out here, two + are safer than one... even when one is just a kid. He starts + walking away. + + BRIDGER + I'm goin' back for him. + + FITZGERALD + Far as we ran all night, you + couldn't find Glass with dogs and a + map. And I don't believe you + really want to. `Cause after + leavin' him to die the first time, + I doubt he'd be too happy to see + you now. + + Fitzgerald digs at the dirt with the knife... covers the + fire's remains. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + And just so we're clear. If you + try to backtrack without me + knowin', or ever get so guilty you + feel the need to tell somebody. + + Fitzgerald looks at Bridger... hard... evil. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + I'll have no choice but to gut you + from nuts to nose. + + Fitzgerald stares his point home, then shoves the blade into + his belt, and stands. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + Now let's go. + + Bridger wipes the blood from his face, then throws one last + glance behind him before following Fitzgerald. + + + EXT. CAMP - MORNING + + Empty and quiet... no sign of life... until GLASS' HAND RISES + BETWEEN THE BRANCHES. His fingers dig into the earth, + pulling himself up from the hole... a dead man climbing out + of his own grave. + + He rolls out to the ground... arches in pain when his back + hits the cold, hard surface. + 38. + Glass lies there shivering, regaining what little strength he + has, then rolls over... starts dragging himself again with + that one good arm. He makes it to the blanket... wraps it + around him. + + Glass rests there in the center of camp... unable to move... + his eyes scanning the surroundings... no food... no water... + and he's wide open in this clearing... an easy target for any + predator. So he grabs his Possibles bag and GUNPOWDER HORN, + and drags himself toward the cover of brush. + + And every movement takes all the will Glass has... a push + with his good leg followed by a pull with his healthy arm... + inch by inch... foot by foot... sweat pouring down his face + as he finally reaches the cover of the trees... continues + on... dragging himself across the forest floor in a + desperate, hopeless crawl for survival. + + But finally it's too much for Glass... the fever and pain + overwhelm him. He collapses... falls unconscious. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY + + Glass lies in the dirt, weak... dehydrated... starving. He + looks at his hands... scratched and bloody from clawing his + weight. + + He unwraps his small, leather Possibles bag... dumps it to + the ground, revealing it contents... flints, a straight + razor, his map, and a LEATHER NECKLACE WITH THE SIX-INCH BEAR + CLAW attached. Glass grabs the razor... cuts SEVERAL THIN + STRIPS FROM THE BLANKET, and wraps them around his hands. + + He shoves the rest back in the bag, and does the only thing + he can do... start crawling again... push with his healthy + leg... pull with his good arm. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - LATER + + Glass dragging himself up a steep slope... over rocks... the + jagged edges catching the wounds... tearing the primitive + stitching. The gashes rip wider... blood oozes down, leaving + a crimson trail dripping down the rock behind him. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT + + The wind is howling through the trees. Glass lies beneath a + cluster of brush... shivering... bleeding. Every aching + breath creates a puff of smoke in the cold, night air. + 39. + + + EXT. MARSH - DAY + + Thick with a sea of four-foot high Cattails... like miniature + cornstalks. Looking down from above the marsh we see a two- + foot wide path of crushed plants that reaches the center of + the marsh, and stops. + + We tighten on the end of the path, until we see Glass lying + among the Cattails. He's sawing off one of the stalks with + the straight razor... peeling away the husk, and eating the + tender flesh beneath. + + Mosquitoes move in clouds around him... over his face... + arms. But Glass' injured body only allows him one action at + a time, so the mosquitoes have their fill of him, as he gnaws + on the Cattail. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY + + Glass pulling himself along the ground... stopping to tear a + FEW BERRIES from a plant, and shove them in his mouth. He + flinches as he swallows. He starts to move again, but + freezes... listens... RUSHING WATER. + + Glass digs his fingers into the ground with new energy... + pulls himself toward the sound... up over a ridge... and + there it is at the bottom of the ridge... + + ...THE GRAND RIVER... WATER. Glass crawls down toward it. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY + + Glass drags himself to the river's edge, cupping handfuls of + water and rubbing it over his parched lips... withstanding + the pain to gulp it down. + + As he does, Glass notices a FISH hovering in the shallows + beside him. He makes a desperate grab for the fish, but it + darts easily away. + + Glass cups more water to his mouth, but with each drink, he + feels the water leak from a hole in his throat... run down + his neck. He leans out over the surface to check his + reflection... barely recognizes the swollen, stitched- + together, disfigured face staring back at him. He fights off + the urge to vomit... pulls the razor from the leather bag, + and cuts more strips of blanket, soaking them in the river, + then cleaning his wounds. + 40. + + He runs a finger up to his shredded throat... around the + open, wet hole. He cups another handful of water to his + mouth... strains to swallow, then feels the liquid GURGLE OUT + OF THE HOLE. + + Glass shoves the cloth against the wound... tries to press + the flesh together... no good. He dumps out his Possibles + bag... stares at the meager contents. He picks up one of the + flints... looks to the powderhorn. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - LATER + + ANGLE ON A SMALL CLUMP OF DRIED GRASS... + + ...as Glass SPARKS one of the flints... ignites the grass. + As the fire grows, Glass pours a handful of GUNPOWDER from + the horn, and RUBS IT ALL OVER THE HOLE IN HIS THROAT. + + He lifts several small blades of burning grass... a miniature + torch. And only then do we realize what he's about to do... + because he stares at the flame a beat, then raises it toward + his gunpowder-covered throat. + + The flame nears the black powder, and LEAPS OFF THE GRASS, + igniting the powder, and SETTING GLASS'S NECK ON FIRE. + + Glass falls back to the ground in agony... TRIES TO SCREAM, + but his burning, shredded vocal chords won't allow him. + + The gunpowder sizzles and burns... the flame spreads... + Glass' flesh sears... melts. And the pain is too much for + Glass... he passes out. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - NIGHT + + ANGLE ON GLASS... looking dead beside the river, but we know + he's alive because we can hear those same painful, raspy + breaths. + + And then we hear something else... an O.S. RATTLING, growing + LOUDER... FASTER... BUZZING... until Glass' eyes flash open. + + CUT TO: + + + GLASS' POV - ON A RATTLESNAKE COILED INCHES FROM HIS FACE. + + Glass stares back in horror... has time to throw up his arm + in protection as the snake STRIKES... SINKS ITS FANGS INTO + HIS FOREARM. + 41. + He shakes it free, but can't escape the snake's next + strike... locking its jaws onto Glass' burned throat. Glass + opens his mouth to scream. + + CUT TO: + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY + + And Glass' eyes flying open in the glaring sun, as he awakens + from his nightmare... looks to his arm... no snake. His hand + instinctively jumps to his melted throat. No bites. + + But that's when he hears it... we all do... that same + RATTLING FROM HIS DREAM. Glass slowly turns his head toward + the sound... + + ...and there's a RATTLESNAKE COILED just a few feet away. + Only it isn't poised to attack Glass. It's facing the other + way, its target a FIELD MOUSE, trapped against a rock. + + The snake attacks, sinking its fangs into the mouse. The + field mouse tumbles over... quivers as the poison runs + through its body, then dies. + + As Glass watches the snake begin to make a meal of the mouse, + his hand grips a rock. He drags himself toward the occupied + snake... raises the rock high, then SMASHES IT DOWN ON THE + SNAKE'S HEAD. + + Glass immediately pulls the razor from his bag, and slices + off the rattlesnake's head, the field mouse still lodged + halfway inside. Glass then drags the razor down the length + of the snake... digs his fingers under the fresh seam, then + peels the outer layer down off the rattler. + + With the skin still hanging off the round tube of flesh, + Glass BITES INTO THE SNAKE, tearing off a chunk of meat. He + gobbles it down, slowing only to painfully swallow the food + past his injured throat. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - LATER + + ANGLE ON THE REMAINS OF THE SNAKE... + + ...the head, skin, and not much else. + + GLASS - at the water's edge, drinking... touching his + charred, melted throat... no leaks. He opens his Possibles + bag... pulls out the GRIZZLY CLAW NECKLACE... stares at it a + beat, then slips it over his head. + 42. + + He drags out the map... spreads it on the ground, then throws + a glance around him... fingers the point on the blue line... + a rough guess of his location. + + ANGLE ON THE MAP... + + ...Fort Union at the top... hundreds of miles north. Fort + Brazeau south... but not nearly as far away. + + Glass gazes north up the Grand, as if he can see Fitzgerald + and Bridger just ahead of him. Then he looks back down to + his reflection in the water... battered and scarred. He + looks to his leg... all but worthless for now... his one good + arm. It's clear he's not ready to take revenge on anyone. + + So Glass shoves the map back into the bag... ties it around + his arm with the powderhorn and blanket, then grabs a THICK, + FALLEN LOG, and rolls it into the river. Glass crawls in + behind it... deeper, until the current grows strong enough to + carry the weight of his mangled body downstream. + + Glass drapes his healthy arm over the log, and starts + floating... letting the river do the work. He watches the + land move past him faster than it has in days... and without + all the agony of every move. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY + + Winding through the open prairie. Glass hangs onto the + log... floats with the gentle current. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - EVENING + + The sinking sun casts an orange glow over the water. Glass + floats downstream... past a HERD OF ELK grazing along the + riverbank. The animals don't even notice him. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - NIGHT + + Dark... the moon hidden behind clouds. A heavy mist hangs + over the river. Glass is draped across the log, eyes + closed... letting the slow current carry him south. But then + his eyes open... because he hears something... a LOW RUMBLE. + + Glass looks to the river banks... too foggy to see anything + clearly. The RUMBLE GROWS LOUDER. He peers ahead... too + dark to see much... just ANOTHER SPLINTERED LOG floating in + front of him, its one jagged branch rising up in the air. + 43. + + But then THE LOG VANISHES. Glass squints through the fog, + scanning the surface. But it's gone... the water's empty... + that LOW RUMBLE GROWS EVEN LOUDER. + + Glass looks to the water beside him... a BRANCH GLIDES PAST + AT A HIGHER SPEED. And now Glass knows what's coming, but + it's too late... because the world suddenly turns upside + down, as Glass tumbles over the edge of a TWENTY FOOT + WATERFALL. + + He spirals downward... crashes into the rushing current. + He's washed forward with the suddenly violent rapids. They + pull him under the surface, then toss him GASPING back out. + + The river carries him blindly through the mist... tossing... + turning... SLAMMING HIM INTO A HUGE BOULDER... CRACK... he + spins off, swept away headfirst... the foaming water sucking + him down the rocky gauntlet. + + He tumbles over more boulders... his Possibles bag snaps + loose... Glass makes a grab for it, but is suddenly flipped + down another set of falls. + + The Possibles Bag is lost in the raging river. + + Glass sinks beneath the surface, then floats back up, as the + rapids calm... spit Glass to the gentle shallows. His body + drifts face-down toward shore. + + And just when we're sure Glass has to finally be dead, his + arm reaches up from the water... he digs his fingers into the + muddy bank, and drags himself out of the river. + + Glass collapses unconscious to the ground, his body shrouded + in that mist. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY + + TIGHT ON THE LEFT SIDE OF GLASS' FACE... the right still + pressed into the muddy bank. The sun beats down... then + SHADOWS APPEAR... BOUNCE ACROSS HIM... something is standing + over Glass. + + And then a VULTURE'S HEAD DROPS INTO FRAME... + + ...latches its beak onto Glass' cheek... tugs at it... + stretches it. Glass' eyes pop open... we PULL BACK to see + THREE VULTURES surrounding Glass' body, pecking and clawing + at his battered wounds. + 44. + + Glass swings his good arm, knocking one of the vultures away. + He tries to cry out, but only that PRIMITIVE HISS ERUPTS from + his throat. + + The vultures dance away from his flailing... aren't willing + to give up their meal so easily... dart in for quick attacks + on his flesh. + + Glass grasps a branch... swings at the birds, beating them + back. The vultures give up the battle... fly away. + + Glass crumbles back to the ground... squints up into the + sun... the SILHOUETTES OF THE VULTURES CIRCLING ABOVE HIM... + waiting for him to die. + + Glass looks down to his wounds, again oozing blood. He + glances around... sees a ridge just a few hundred yards away. + + At the base of the ridge, a GIANT BOULDER has broken free, + creating a partial cave. Glass starts crawling toward it. + And if it's possible, he looks even closer to death now than + when he started this journey. + + + EXT. CAVE - DAY + + No more than ten feet deep, but enough to hide from + predators. Glass drags himself as far back in the recess as + he can... collapses against the rock wall. + + + INT. CAVE - DAY + + Glass gathers loose sticks and grass into a small pile... + begins sparking rocks together to build a fire. + + + INT. CAVE - LATER + + The fire burns beside Glass, as he TEARS A SINGLE THREAD of + cloth from the tattered blanket, then feeds it through a tiny + hole in a JAGGED, NEEDLE-SIZED SLIVER OF SHARPENED ROCK... a + man-made needle and thread. + + Glass goes to work on the open wounds of his chest... + piercing his skin with the rock... wincing with pain as he + tugs the thread through the fresh hole in his skin... pierces + the other side of the wound, then pulls the flesh tightly + together... before repeating the excruciating process all + over again... pierce... pull... pierce... tighten. + 45. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - NIGHT + + The moon's glow reflects off the water. + + + INT. CAVE - NIGHT + + ANGLE ON GLASS' HAND... + + ...holding a small sharp stone, and SCRATCHING LETTERS INTO + THE CAVE'S ROCK WALL. + + WE PAN DOWN TO THE GROUND... still listening to the + SCRATCHING OF THE ROCK as we glide across the dirt... reach + the fire... its flame warm and strong. We TIGHTEN ON THE + FIRE, until WE'RE INSIDE IT... and then WE PULL BACK... + + ...and we see the fire has long died away... just black ash. + The O.S. SCRATCHING has silenced. We glide back across the + cave floor... to Glass unconscious on the ground. And above + him on the wall, we see what he had been scratching... + + "Robbed and left to die by Fitzgerald and Bridger. If find + eether kill for Hugh Glass" + + We hold on those words a beat, then... + + DISSOLVE TO: + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY + + DROPS OF RAIN dot the surface. THUNDER RUMBLES... the rain + grows heavier. + + + EXT. CAVE - NIGHT + + Rain pouring... gullies of water run down the ridge, spewing + over the mouth of the cave. But inside, Glass doesn't + stir... lying there just as we last saw him. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY + + Rain coming down in buckets. The river's raging. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT + + Clouds drift across the moon... the storm has ended. + 46. + + + EXT. CAVE - DAY + + Sunny and clear. A rabbit hops along... stops for a moment + outside the cave. Beyond it, Glass is still sprawled on the + cave floor... he must be dead. The rabbit continues on past. + + + INT. CAVE - DAY + + TIGHT ON GLASS' FACE... as his eyes flutter open. He stares + straight ahead, unmoving. + + + EXT. CAVE - DAY + + Glass crawls out of the crevice... shields his eyes from the + sun, as he takes in the scene. + + The river has sunk back to normal, leaving the banks battered + and muddy. The water is thick and brown with all the flooded + earth it pulled up. + + Glass uses all his strength to rise up to his knees, then + higher... onto his healthy leg. He braces himself against a + tree. He's still crooked and hunched over, but for the first + time since the Grizzly attack, he looks more like a man than + an animal. He bends down... picks up a BROKEN TREE BRANCH. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY + + Glass limps along the bank... beside the brown water stirred + up from the flood. He moves along the washed-out area, + searching for food... grabs some plants... tears them from + the ground to chew on the roots. + + He continues on... spots a DEAD SNAPPING TURTLE drowned in + the flood, frozen on its back. Glass kneels down to pick up + the turtle... sniffs it. As he does, he spots something + across the river... a DEER, staring back at him. + + Glass slowly raises his IMAGINARY RIFLE... takes careful aim + at the deer... pulls the trigger. If only he had his Anstadt. + + But then the deer's head snaps... to something beyond Glass. + Glass follows the animal's eyes... turns to the ridge... and + the FIVE ARIKARA WARRIORS STANDING AT GLASS' CAVE. + + Glass drops flat to the ground behind a tree uprooted in the + flood. He looks back across the river... THE DEER IS LONG + GONE. + 47. + + Glass inches his head up over the tree... to the warriors now + crouched outside the cave... studying the tracks. + + Glass' eyes jump to the soft dirt along the river... HIS + FOOTPRINTS CLEAR... an obvious trail leading right to him. + He throws a glance around... nowhere to run even if he could. + So he starts backing into the river on his stomach... feet- + first... dragging a small branch over the tracks around him, + wiping them away as he moves. And his eyes are locked on the + Arikara... watching to see if they spot him. + + But they haven't yet, and Glass keeps sliding backward... + five feet off shore... only three feet deep in the murky + water and sludge. But if he goes any further, the current + will catch him... pull him into the next set of violent + rapids... and make him a clear target. + + The Arikara follow the tracks down from the cave. + + Glass sinks neck-deep into the water... the Arikara keep + coming... near the river. So Glass drops beneath the surface. + + CUT TO: + + UNDERWATER - + + And Glass' eyes spread wide... searching the muddy water. He + grabs a LARGE ROCK... rolls onto his back, and places the + rock on his stomach, its weight holding him firmly to the + river bottom. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY + + ANGLE ON THE ARIKARA WARRIORS... following Glass' tracks to + the edge of the river... looking out over the brown river. + + CUT TO: + + + UNDERWATER - + + Glass pressing his head back against the bottom... staring up + through the cloudy water... to the FIVE SHADOWS STANDING ONLY + A FEW FEET AWAY. + + + EXT. GRAND RIVER - CONTINUOUS + + The Arikara... unknowingly standing just above Glass... + looking back to the tracks... scanning the water. But the + surface is empty, and the river's too thick with mud to see + anything below. + 48. + + But they keep looking... and we're waiting for Glass to + explode from the river, gasping for air. But he doesn't... + and they keep scanning for what seems an eternity, until + finally, the warriors turn... start walking back up the path. + + Behind them, Glass' face inches to the surface... pulls in + some oxygen... watches as they fade into the trees. + + Then Glass rolls the rock away... starts moving deeper into + the river... fighting the current to grab rocks and + boulders... pulling himself to the other side. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY + + Glass limps through the trees, still dripping with the muddy + water of the Grand. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - LATER + + Glass is on his knees, desperately grabbing for a TINY FIELD + MOUSE. The rodent escapes into a hole. Glass claws at the + ground after it. He's starving to death. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT + + The rain beating down through the trees. Glass huddles in a + cluster of bushes, trying to stay dry... shivering in the + cold. He reaches out from the cover, grabbing his moccasin + boot standing in the rain. He pulls it in... slurps back the + rainfall that it's caught. + + + EXT. PRAIRIE - EVENING + + Glass limps slowly across the rolling prairie. He's weak... + starving... isn't going to make it much further. He drops to + his hands and knees. + + And then he feels something... the ground almost trembling + under his hands. He watches his hands quiver with vibration. + A RUMBLE BUILDS. Glass strains to hear... looks to the crest + of a hill... labors up the gentle slope toward the sound. + + + EXT. PRAIRIE/HILL - EVENING + + Glass reaches the crest... looks over the other side to a + HERD OF BUFFALO THUNDERING ACROSS THE PRAIRIE. + 49. + + An incredible site... hundreds of massive creatures... their + hooves tearing up the earth, leaving a cloud of dust behind + them. + + Behind the herd, a PACK OF WOLVES FIGHT OVER A FALLEN + BUFFALO. + + Glass lies in the high grass, watching the wolves SNARL AND + SNAP over the remains. And he eyes that buffalo... the + closest he's been to food in days. + + + EXT. PLAINS - NIGHT + + The five wolves rest around the downed buffalo, their snouts + bloody from the meal. Suddenly, one of the wolves' heads + snaps up... bares its teeth... SNARLS. + + And then we see what the wolf is growling at... Glass... + limping out of the shadows toward the animals, holding a + BURNING SAGE BUSH IN EACH HAND... like giant FLAMING HANDS + clawing in the night. + + The wolves jump to their feet, unsure of what's approaching. + They growl at Glass. But Glass keeps coming... doing his + best to YELL... more like GROWL back at the wolves. He + swings the flaming brush, tossing glowing sparks through the + air. + + The wolves spread out, instinctively surrounding Glass. But + Glass singles out each one... charges, waving the flames... + driving each wolf back. + + Four of the wolves back away, but the leader holds its + ground... even moves toward Glass... only a few feet away... + SNARLING... bloody jaws ready to attack, but still not sure + what its up against. + + Glass shakes the flames at the wolf... it SNAPS AT GLASS' + ARM. Glass swings the other... slams the fiery plant across + the wolf's head. + + The wolf YELPS... leaps back... starts to run away, but turns + back... makes another charge at Glass. But Glass is ready... + throws the flaming ball of sage at the wolf, then clubs it + with the other. The animal's fur begins to burn. + + The frightened wolf has had enough... rolls on the ground, + then spins to join the rest of its pack. They run a safe + distance, then stop... keeping a watch on Glass. + 50. + + Glass drags the burning sage bushes along the ground, + igniting the grass and brush... creating a foot-high flaming + wall between him and the wolves. + + He stretches the flame into a circle, a fiery ring surrounds + the fallen buffalo. + + The wolves have seen enough... turn... race away from the + flames. + + As the grass around him burns, Glass drops the sage plants... + attacks the buffalo remains, tearing away bloody chunks of + flesh from the carcass, and shoving them into his mouth... a + starving animal that's finally found food. + + + EXT. PRAIRIE - NIGHT + + From high above the prairie... Glass and the buffalo at the + center of that glowing ring of fire. + + + EXT. PRAIRIE - DAY + + The wind's gusting... bending the high golden grass over on + its side. Glass moves slowly across, pulling his collar up + to shield his face from the cold winds. He spots something + in the distant sky ahead... a THIN LINE OF BLACK SMOKE. + Glass picks up his pace... hope spurring him on. + + + EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - DAY + + The charred, skeletal remains of a tribe's village... just + black posts where tee-pees once stood... a half-burned log + lodge still smokes, sending that black line into the sky. + + Glass limps through the graveyard of structures... all signs + of life in this village long gone. He searches a basket... + pulls out a BLANKET... wraps it around his shoulders. + + + INT. LODGE - DAY + + Glass steps into the smoky warmth of the lodge... black and + empty. He slides down to the floor... unwraps strips of + roasted buffalo from what's left of his blanket. He starts to + take a bite, when SOMETHING DARTS PAST THE DOORWAY TO THE + BACK ROOM. The O.S. SHUFFLING OF FEET. + + Glass freezes... he isn't alone. He rises... grabs a + splintered post like a spear... eases toward the doorway... + raises the post to swing... + 51. + + ...and sees the SMALL PUPPY standing in the back room. The + dog takes off around a crumbled wall. Glass follows it. + + + INT. LODGE/BACK ROOM - CONTINUOUS + + Glass limps across the room... turns the corner of the + crumbled wall... and sees the dog slide to a stop beside an + ANCIENT ARIKARA SQUAW, huddled in the corner, her bony arms + outstretched in front of her in weak defense. And her eyes + are SOLID WHITE... the old woman is blind. She CRIES OUT A + CHANT over and over... her death chant, as she waits for this + stranger to kill her. + + Glass stands frozen... confused. He tries to speak, but his + throat still won't let him. He crouches down in front of the + old woman... reaches for her hand, but she flails him away. + He grabs her again... gently... just holds it until she + calms... studying the woman... her hollow face all skin and + bones... she's obviously dying. + + He pulls the strip of buffalo meat from his pocket... pushes + it into the squaw's hand. She immediately jerks it to her + mouth... and that's when Glass sees the WOMAN HAS NO TEETH... + she can't eat. + + Glass turns to an old pot tipped over on the floor. + + + EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - DAY + + Glass carries the pot toward a nearby stream. The dog + scurries out behind him... follows Glass to the water. + + + INT. LODGE/BACK ROOM - DAY + + The pot boils over burning logs. Glass dips a cup in, + pulling out a warm broth. He carries it to the squaw, still + sitting in the corner... takes her hand, placing the cup in + it for her. She gulps the liquid back. + + Glass goes back to refill the cup. The old woman MUMBLES + SOMETHING we can't understand... over and over, as Glass + brings the cup back to her. He tries to ease it into her + hand, but the woman pushes it away... slides her hand up + Glass' arm to his face... patting it... MUMBLING THOSE SAME + WORDS... thanking Glass. + 52. + + + EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - EVENING + + Glass carries several blankets toward the lodge. The puppy + trails behind him, biting at one of the corners... hanging on + as Glass pulls him across the dirt. + + + INT. LODGE - EVENING + + Glass enters the back room with the blankets... stops when he + sees the old woman slumped over to the floor, her white eyes + frozen open in a lifeless stare. + + + EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - NIGHT + + Glass has stacked several burned posts into a crude pyre at + the edge of the village. The squaw lies atop the pyre, + covered in the blankets he gathered for her. Glass stands + beside the pyre, a FLAMING TORCH in his hand. The puppy + rests at his feet. + + + EXT. DISTANT RIDGE - CONTINUOUS + + THREE INDIANS sit on horseback, watching Glass light the + pyre... the flames rise into the night. + + + EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - NIGHT + + Glass crouches... pets the dog, as he watches the flames + spread... engulf the woman. + + ANGLE ON THE GLOWING EMBERS... + + ...floating into the night. Beyond the sparks, we see + something else... THOSE THREE INDIANS GALLOPING TOWARD THE + VILLAGE... FAST. + + And now Glass sees them too... knows it's too late to run, so + he just stands there. But the dog's seen enough... darts + away. + + Glass watches the Indians ride into the village... their + braided hair and dress is different than the Arikara we've + seen earlier, because these are SIOUX WARRIORS, and Glass + knows it. + + The Sioux surround Glass on horseback... stare down at Glass. + The lead warrior (SPOTTED HORSE), (30's), poised and strong, + points to the flaming pyre... says something to Glass. + 53. + + Glass tries to answer... can't... touches his scarred throat. + Spotted Horse slides gracefully off his horse. The other two + warriors, (THREE FEATHERS and RUNNING FOX) do the same... + close in on Glass. + + Glass stands firm. Spotted Horse says something else to him. + Again, Glass touches his throat... holds his jacket out from + his sides... no weapons. Spotted Horse studies Glass hard... + reaches out, wiping his finger down Glass' cheek, almost + testing to see if the color comes off. + + One of the other warriors pats Glass' hair... smiles... says + something to the others. Spotted Horse and the other warrior + join him, each touching Glass' hair. + + Then Spotted Horse spots Glass' necklace... the grizzly claw + hanging from it. He examines the enormous claw, then nods to + Glass' stitching and scars. + + SPOTTED HORSE + Griz-lee. + + Glass hears the familiar word... nods. Three Feathers pulls + a WHITE SPECK from the back of Glass' neck... holds it up to + Spotted Horse. + + Spotted Horse jerks out his knife. Glass is confused... + holds up his hand, as he takes a step back. But Three + Feathers and Running Fox grab Glass... secure him... pull his + jacket down off his shoulders, exposing his shirt, as Spotted + Horse walks around behind Glass... raises the knife... Glass + GROWLS A PLEA... but Spotted Horse slices the knife down + Glass' back... just cutting open his shirt... and revealing a + MASS OF WHITE WORMS... MAGGOTS... COVERING THE DEEP GASHES ON + GLASS' BACK. + + The three warriors exchange glances... they've obviously + never seen anything like this. Glass sees their reaction... + throws a nervous glance... what? + + Three Feathers runs his hand across Glass' back, dragging a + HANDFUL OF WORMS for Glass to see. As Glass' eyes widen in + panic, Spotted Horse SLAMS THE BUTT OF HIS KNIFE against + Glass' head. + + Glass drops to his knees... makes a dazed grab for Spotted + Horse... misses... and Spotted Horse HITS GLASS AGAIN. Glass + tumbles unconscious to the dirt. + + Spotted Horse says something to the others... they grab + Glass' limp arms... drag him toward the horses. + 54. + + + EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - NIGHT + + Dozens of glowing campfires dot the prairie, along with a sea + of tee-pees, their willow poles fanning against the night + sky. Animal hides and painted designs decorate the various + tee-pees and lodges. SIOUX CHILDREN laugh and play about the + village... freeze when they hear Spotted Horse and the other + riders splash across the stream. + + The warriors ride into the village, Glass' body tossed over + the back of Three Feather's horse. The children race to them. + + ANGLE ON GLASS... regaining consciousness... eyes blinking... + trying to focus. + + CUT TO: + + + GLASS' POV - FROM THE BACK OF THE HORSE... + + ...to the children's eager faces swarming around him... + studying this strange face. + + Spotted Horse - YELLING SOMETHING at the children... they + back away from Glass... fall into line behind the riders. + + Sioux MEN and WOMEN watch as the procession moves past... to + a tee-pee set away from the rest... its hide walls decorated + with wild lightning bolts and buffalo and vaguely human + figures circling the sun. + + An OLD MEDICINE MAN, gnarled and leathery, a DEAD RAVEN tied + in his long hair, his naked chest painted with red and black + stripes, steps out of the tee-pee. He eyes Glass, as Three + Feathers and Running Fox carry him inside. + + Suddenly, the Medicine Man begins CHANTING. + + CUT TO: + + + A FLURRY OF IMAGES ACCOMPANIED BY THE MEDICINE MAN'S V.O. + CHANTING... + + LEATHER STRAPS SNAPPING AROUND GLASS' WRISTS AND ANKLES... + stretched tight. + + Glass, naked, on his stomach at the center of the tee-pee, + his arms and legs outstretched, secured to wooden stakes in + the ground. The white worms cover his back. + 55. + + The Medicine Man... CHANTING... waving burning sticks in the + air. + + A THICK LIQUID BOILING IN A POT... the Medicine Man's twisted + hand reaching a gourd container in... filling it with the + steaming mixture. + + The liquid POURING OVER GLASS' BACK. + + GLASS' FACE... arched to the sky... twisted in horrible pain. + He SCREAMS THAT HORRIBLE GROWLING CRY. + + MORE IMAGES... even faster... the CHANTING more frantic... + + A SIOUX WOMAN,(WAKI), staring down. + + HANDS wiping a GREEN SLUDGE over Glass' neck... chest. + + The Medicine Man dancing... chanting... shaking sticks lined + with RATTLESNAKE TAILS. + + The moonlight shining through the tee-pee, illuminating the + images of the buffalo and dancing shapes. + + Waki gently pouring fluid into Glass' mouth. + + The Medicine Man holding the SEVERED HEAD OF A SNAKE... + lightly sinking the fangs around the wounds on Glass' throat. + + GLASS' EYES... wide open... rolling up white into his head. + + AND THE CHANTING STOPS... the world goes dark. + + + EXT. YELLOWSTONE RIVER - DAY + + Cutting through the open prairie. Snow-covered peaks touch + the sky in the distance. + + Fitzgerald and Bridger trudge their way across the prairie, + dressed in furs. They rise up a steep slope... reach the + top, and spot the cluster of log buildings inside a massive + thirty-foot tall wooden fence. Fort Union. + + Bridger smiles... relieved. + + FITZGERALD + `Bout goddamn time. + + They start down the slope. Fitzgerald grabs Bridger's arm... + firmly. + 56. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + And we're understood on + everything... Glass' dyin' in his + sleep... us buryin' him like was + agreed. + + Bridger doesn't respond. Fitzgerald doesn't like that. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + You're as guilty as me in leavin' + him. Don't you forget that. You + got a future up here. No sense + tossin' it away when he was as good + as dead already. Shit, all we did + was skip the funeral. + + Bridger pulls his arm free... continues on. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + I won't take to givin' up that two- + hundred on accounta you gettin' + weak-kneed. + + Bridger keeps walking. Fitzgerald follows behind. + + + INT. FORT UNION - DAY + + Like a small town surrounded by a log wall. The main TRADING + POST BUILDING is busy... TRAPPERS, SIOUX, all with things to + trade. But most of the life is in the FORT UNION SALOON next + door... crowded with customers downstairs, and just as busy + in the whores' rooms upstairs. + + A small village of tents rests off to the side of the + buildings, holding the overflow of traffic. + + + INT. SALOON - DAY + + Fitzgerald and Bridger enter the crowded room... squeeze + their way to the bar. + + FITZGERALD + Twice the folks here than when we + left. + + BRIDGER + We should go see Captain Henry. + + FITZGERALD + Far as we hiked... we got time for + a drink on the company's tab. + 57. + + PIG (O.S.) + Jim! + + They spin... see Pig, Murphy and Stubby Bill sitting at a + table. Pig scrambles up... rushes to Bridger, locking him in + a big bear hug. + + PIG (CONT'D) + You made it! I was scared the `Ree + mighta caught up to ya. + + FITZGERALD + If your fat ass could get through, + we didn't have no worries. + + Pig glares at Fitzgerald... watches him walk to the table, + joining the others. + + PIG + (off Fitzgerald, to + BRIDGER) + Had to be a helluva long walk for + you. + + Bridger nods... Pig has no idea. + + PIG (CONT'D) + Hugh? + + Bridger hesitates a beat, then just shakes his head. + + PIG (CONT'D) + Guess we all knowed how it would + turn out. Did he suffer much more? + + Another long beat, then... + + BRIDGER + I hope not. + + A PROSTITUTE walks down the stairs... stops on the landing, + waiting for her next customer. Fitzgerald spots her... + grins. + + FITZGERALD + (TO BRIDGER) + Maybe we best go see Henry, kid. I + just got a itch to spend the first + of my two-hundred. + + The other men laugh. Not Bridger. + 58. + + + INT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN FUR COMPANY OFFICE - DAY + + Henry sits at his desk. Fitzgerald and Bridger stand across + from him. The others... Pig, Anderson, Murphy, and Stubby + Bill crowd the room behind them. + + FITZGERALD + I won't pretend to been his friend, + but I respect any man that fights + the way he done. + + HENRY + And the grave? + + FITZGERALD + We had those extra days so we went + deeper... covered it in rocks. To + keep the scavengers off him. + + HENRY + Any sign of hostiles? + + FITZGERALD + Not a one. + + The words are like a punch in the gut to Bridger. He can't + take the pain... opens his mouth to speak, but Fitzgerald + beats him to it. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + Truth is, I was worried `bout `Ree, + and ready to get movin', but + Bridger here argued to stay and + make a cross for the grave. + + Bridger's head snaps to Fitzgerald... don't make this worse. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + So that's what we did. + + Pig reaches up... gives Bridger a pat on the back. But to + Bridger, it feels like a red-hot blade. + + HENRY + Glad to hear you pulled your + weight, Mr. Bridger. I knew you + would. + + FITZGERALD + More than his share, Captain. + 59. + + And now Fitzgerald has snared Bridger into his lie. Bridger + drops his eyes to his feet. + + HENRY + Speaking of shares. + + Henry turns to a SAFE resting against the wall. Fitzgerald + watches as Henry spins the dial... locks in the combination, + then pulls the latch. The safe door swings open... + + ...revealing STACKS OF CASH. + + Fitzgerald's eyes lock on all that money. Henry pulls out a + handful... starts counting them out onto the desk. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + Am I to assume the agreed + arrangement didn't change? + + FITZGERALD + Fortunate for me, it did not. + + HENRY + Well thank you both for your + courage and honor. You have done + yourselves proud. + + Fitzgerald swipes up his pile of bills. Henry drops a couple + bills in front of Bridger. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + You're owed something for what you + did. + + Bridger stares down at the bills a beat, then snatches + them... pushes his way out of the office before he might have + to look someone in the eye. + + FITZGERALD + He's beat hisself up most of the + trip... wishin' he'da done more. + + HENRY + We all saw the shape Glass was in. + There was no more to be done. + + FITZGERALD + That's what I been tellin' him. + 60. + + + INT. BUNKHOUSE - DAY + + Empty, except for Bridger curled up on his cot, squeezing + those crumpled bills in his hand, crying. + + DISSOLVE TO: + + + INT. TEE-PEE - DAY + + Glass sleeps under a buffalo robe. His eyes flicker open. + + CUT TO: + + + GLASS' POV - ON THE BUFFALO AND DANCING FIGURE DESIGNS + SHADOWED THROUGH THE TEE-PEE. + + GLASS - His hand reaching up to his throat. It looks much + better than we last saw. And the stitches are gone from his + face, now just long, pink scars. He stiffly raises himself + up... remembers his back... struggles to reach behind him... + scarred but clean... no maggots. + + He looks beside him... sees BUCKSKIN PANTS AND SHIRT resting + on the ground... waiting for him. + + + EXT. TEE-PEE - DAY + + ANGLE ON GLASS... dressed... pushing his way out through the + flap of the tee-pee... limping out into the midday sun, and + shielding his eyes. He looks like a man that hasn't seen the + light of day for weeks. + + Glass adjusts to the brightness... stares in wonder at the + scene. + + And then we see what Glass is looking at, and understand his + reaction... the entire village is blanketed in snow. The + Sioux VILLAGERS move about, wearing heavy skins and furs. + + A WOMEN'S O.S. VOICE turns Glass... + + ...to WAKI, the woman from the images, walking toward him, + bundled in fur. She says something else we can't + understand... points to Glass' feet. Glass looks down... to + his BARE FEET BURIED DEEP IN THE SNOW. He hadn't noticed. + + And then Waki smiles... a sweet, pretty smile. She takes his + hand... leads him back into the tee-pee. + 61. + + + INT. TEE-PEE - CONTINUOUS + + Glass and Waki enter. She pulls a pair of moccasins from a + basket... hands them to Glass. + + He slips them on, then presses his fingers against his + throat... almost trying to hold it all inside to make it + work, then... + + GLASS + (scratching and rough) + Thank you. + + Waki doesn't understand... just raises a cup of liquid... + says something, then touches his throat... motions for him to + drink. Glass sips the drink... grimaces... shakes his head, + trying to give the cup back, but Waki refuses... points at + his throat, and motions for him to drink. Glass stares in + the cup a beat, then gulps it back... shakes his head. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + Bad medicine. + + Waki smiles... hands him his BEAR CLAW NECKLACE. Glass nods + in thanks, then achingly lifts his arms up to slip it over + his head. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + How long have I been here? + + Waki just stares back... no idea what Glass said. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + You're Sioux. I only know a bit a + Pawnee. + + Glass stumbles through a sentence of Pawnee. Waki shakes her + head... throws a jumble of Sioux back at him. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + The snow... my healin'. + (points to himself) + Me. + (points to the ground) + Here. How long? + + Waki shakes her head again. Glass leads her outside. + 62. + + + EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - CONTINUOUS + + Glass points to the sun overhead, then raises both hands, + fingers outstretched. + + GLASS + How many suns? Ten? + + Waki studies Glass... the sun... begins to understand. She + nods... SAYS A WORD... holds up all ten of her fingers. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + Ten suns? + + Then Waki closes her hands into fists... opens them again... + closes them again... SAYS A DIFFERENT WORD. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + Christ. + + Glass glances around... for the first time, notices Sioux MEN + and WOMEN staring at him. Children freeze in the middle of + their play... all eyes locked on Glass. TWO SMALL BOYS, (NEW + MOON and LITTLE ONE), repeat the same TWO WORDS to each + other... + + BOYS + Tatanka Wicasa. + + ...over and over. + + Glass stares back, unsure. Then... + + SPOTTED HORSE (O.S.) + Buff-A-lo Man. + + Glass turns... sees Yellow Horse stepping out of a tee-pee. + + Spotted Horse (cont'd) + (very broken english) + What they call you. + (points to Glass' hair) + Fur of Buff-A-lo. + + Glass touches his hair... nods... smiles. The children smile + and laugh now too... repeat the words LOUDER. + + GLASS + You speak English. + + SPOTTED HORSE + Need words when trade with whites. + 63. + + GLASS + Well I'm grateful for you bringing + me here... havin' them care for me. + (off Spotted Horse's nod) + Now if you could point me which way + it is you do your tradin'... with + the whites. + + SPOTTED HORSE + (POINTS) + Whites. Bra-zo. + + GLASS + Fort Brazeau? That's where I'm + tryin' to get. Is it far from here? + + Spotted Horse doesn't understand. Glass motions into the + distance. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + Far? Long way? + + Spotted Horse points to a horse, then holds up three fingers. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + Three days on horse? + + Spotted Horse nods... looks Glass over, and shakes his head. + + SPOTTED HORSE + Not walk. Hides soon. + + Glass doesn't understand... until Spotted Horse points to a + ROW OF BUFFALO HIDES hanging from a line. + + Spotted Horse (cont'd) + We trade Bra-zo. + + Glass stares at the tanning hides, then down at his leg. + Finally, he nods. Spotted Horse starts walking... waves for + Glass to follow. + + Spotted Horse (cont'd) + Come. Eat. + + Glass follows after him. The children sneak in behind, + giggling as they tail Glass across camp. + + Glass glances back... New Moon and Little One duck behind a + tee-pee... wait for him to continue before they scoot back + out after him. + 64. + + + INT. CHIEF'S LODGE - NIGHT + + Glass, Spotted Horse, Three Feathers, Running Fox and OTHER + WARRIORS sit around a fire, eating with CHIEF RED HAWK, the + Medicine Man, and several other TRIBAL ELDERS. + + GLASS + The men stole my rifle. + + The Sioux don't understand. Glass reaches over, taking + Spotted Horse's plate. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + They took. They took... + + Glass aims an imaginary rifle. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + ...my rifle. My gear. + + Now Spotted Horse understands... translates for the others. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + They left me to die. So I mean to + find `em both. Get my rifle back. + + Spotted Horse translates again. Red Hawk nods, studying + Glass. + + Red Hawk SAYS SOMETHING to Glass... motions to the BEAR CLAW + NECKLACE. Glass looks to Spotted Horse. + + SPOTTED HORSE + Red Hawk ask who kill griz-lee. + + Glass touches his chest. Red Hawk nods, impressed. Glass + points to the JAGGED SCARS running up Red Hawk's neck to a + MISSING RIGHT EAR. + + GLASS + Grizzly? + + Red Hawk smiles... shakes his head. + + RED HAWK + Arikara. + + That word, Glass understands. Red Hawk rambles a long + sentence in Sioux. The other members LAUGH. + 65. + + SPOTTED HORSE + He say Arikara take right ear of + Sioux. Left ear of whites. Not + know what they take from you. + + Glass smiles along with the others. They continue their meal. + + + EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - DAY + + Snow falls over Glass, as he stands outside the tee-pee, + flexing his injured leg... putting more weight on it... + testing its recovered strength. + + Suddenly, a SPEAR PLANTS INTO THE GROUND BETWEEN HIS FEET. + Glass turns, startled... sees Spotted Horse, Three Feathers, + Running Fox, and several OTHER WARRIORS staring at him. + + Glass' eyes jump from the spear to the warriors, unsure. + + Spotted Horse strides to Glass... grabs the spear, then spins + it sideways... stares at Glass, until a smile spreads across + Spotted Horse's face... he holds the spear out to Glass. + + SPOTTED HORSE + Buff-A-lo Man hunt with Sioux? + + Glass relaxes... nods... takes the spear from Spotted Horse. + Three Feathers hands a BUFFALO HIDE to Glass... motions for + Glass to put it on. + + THREE FEATHERS + Tatanka Wicasa. + + Glass wraps the hide around him. The Warriors smile and nod. + + + EXT. FOREST - DAY + + A world of silent white... like we're inside a giant snow- + globe. The sky is emptying all the snow it has over us... + pouring down... the only sound comes from the flakes hitting + the already fallen snow. The pale trunks of Cottonwoods rise + up from the white ground. + + Then out of the white... a SHAPE APPEARS... a GIANT WOLF + WALKING ON ITS HIND LEGS. But as the wolf comes closer, we + see it's not a wolf at all... it's THREE FEATHERS, wearing + his WOLF SKIN. He CRIES OUT... HOWLING WILDLY. + + A few yards beside him, another WARRIOR is doing the same... + CHANTING... beating his spear against the Cottonwoods as he + walks. + 66. + + + GLASS - WEARING THE BUFFALO HIDE... + + ...walking slowly through the trees, carrying the spear. + Yellow Bear is beside him... motions for Glass to spread out. + + + FROM ABOVE THE TREES... + + ...we see the fur-covered warriors are formed into a wide + circle... and slowly converging... YELLING... pounding their + spears... making as much noise as possible, as they tighten + their ring. + + + POV FROM THE BRUSH... + + ...watching DISTANT CHANTING WARRIORS pushing through the + trees. V.O. SNORTING... our POV darts sideways... charges + through the brush... slides to a stop when we see Running Fox + moving toward us... spins back another direction. + + + GLASS - MOVING THROUGH THE FOREST... + + ...the falling snow clinging to his face... covering the + buffalo hide. + + And then a MASSIVE SHAPE BLASTS through the trees ahead of + him. Glass freezes, his grip tightening on the spear. He + looks to Spotted Horse, who nods... YELLS OUT, beating his + spear against the trees, and motioning for Glass to do the + same. + + Glass is apprehensive at first... just lightly tapping his + spear. But as the other warriors' chants grow, Glass gets + caught up in the hunt... begins beating the trees... YELLING + as loud as his throat will allow. + + + THE WARRIORS - EYES PIERCING THROUGH THE SNOW... CHANTING... + BEATING THE BUSHES. + + + OUR LOW POV AGAIN - RACING CHAOTICALLY THROUGH THE BRUSH... + + ...to Spotted Horse waving his spear... back over the snow... + to Three Feathers SCREAMING... we spin again... crash through + bushes, then suddenly TUMBLE... DROP THROUGH THE SNOW. + 67. + + + GLASS - HEARING THE ANIMAL'S WAIL... + + ...seeing Spotted Horse pick up his pace... start trotting + forward. Glass does the same... all the hunters converging + around a LARGE BLACK HOLE IN THE SNOW... + + ...and the ELK trapped at the bottom. + + The warriors cry out victoriously... begin DRIVING THEIR + SPEARS INTO THE TRAP, killing the animal. + + + EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - EVENING + + The elk roasts over a fire at the center of the village. + Glass sits alone outside the tee-pee, using the sharp tip of + the spear to carve into a small chunk of wood. + + As he carves, New Moon and Little One sneak around the tee- + pee behind him... watch Glass work. Glass hears them + GIGGLING... doesn't react... just keeps carving... tilts the + long handle of the spear as he works, tapping the side of the + tee-pee, and SHAKING LOOSE A CLUMP OF SNOW DOWN ONTO THE + BOYS. + + The shocked boys freeze in the cold... wipe the snow from + their faces to see Glass grinning at them. The little boys + charge Glass, leaping onto him... wrestling him to the + ground, as they squeeze his hair. + + BOYS + Tatanka Wicasa! Tatanka Wicasa! + + Spotted Horse stands across the village, watching Glass and + the boys play in the snow. + + + EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - NIGHT + + Glass stands at the edge of the village, carving at the wood + with the spear tip, and watching the Sioux from a distance. + Yellow Bear sees him... approaches, carrying his SON on his + shoulders. The little boy gnaws on a strip of meat. + + Spotted Horse holds out a bowl of food to Glass. + + GLASS + Thank you. + + SPOTTED HORSE + Good hunt. + 68. + + GLASS + Yes. + + Glass smiles up at Spotted Horse's son. + + SPOTTED HORSE + You. Fam-i-lee? + + GLASS + (shakes his head) + No. + + SPOTTED HORSE + No wom-an? + (pointing to son) + Wakayaja? + + A long beat, then... + + GLASS + No. Not for a long time. + + Glass continues eating... watches Spotted Horse bounce the + giggling little boy on his shoulders. + + + EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - DAY + + Glass steps out of his tee-pee, whittling with the spear tip. + He glances up... freezes because he sees several Sioux + pulling the hides from the line... rolling them up to carry. + + Spotted Horse (O.S.) + Bra-zo. + + Glass turns to Spotted Horse, pointing to the hides. Glass + nods... looks back to the last of the hides being pulled + down... doesn't seem as excited as he once might have been. + + + EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - LATER + + Spotted Horse and Three Feathers sit atop their horses. + Three Feathers holds the reins to another horse packed with + hides. An empty horse stands beside them... waiting for + Glass. + + Glass is leaning over to New Moon and Little One... handing + them the CRUDE BUFFALO CARVING he made from the wood. + + GLASS + (taps his chest) + Tatanka Wicasa. + 69. + + The little boys smile. Glass nods to Waki, then waves to Red + Hawk and the Medicine Man. They return it... watch Glass + climb onto his horse. + + Glass, Spotted Horse and Three Feathers ride out of the + village. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY + + Glass, Spotted Horse and Three Feathers ride along a high + ridge, surrounded by empty snow-covered wilderness. They + have the world to themselves. + + + EXT. CAMP - NIGHT + + Glass crouches over a shallow, five-foot long hole surrounded + by deep snow. The hole is filled with small fires and rocks. + And he's watching Spotted Horse and Three Feathers tossing + rocks into their own matching holes, then dragging the dirt + back into them. Spotted Horse throws a glance back to Glass, + making sure he understands. + + Glass nods... pulls the dirt back in, covering the flames. + He watches Spotted Horse spread a blanket over the warm + ground, then does the same. He sits on the mound of dirt... + leans back against a tree... feels the warmth rise up from + beneath him. + + He nods to Spotted Horse, who is already resting under his + blanket. + + GLASS + Nice. + + SPOTTED HORSE + (NODS) + Nice. + + Glass pulls the buffalo hide around himself... keeping watch. + + SPOTTED HORSE (cont'd) + Sleep. No Arikara. + + Glass nods... but still doesn't close his eyes. Spotted + Horse tosses his knife over beside Glass. Glass takes it... + nods to Spotted Horse. + + SPOTTED HORSE (cont'd) + Me sleep. + 70. + + Spotted Horse rolls over, turning his back on Glass... + trusting him with the knife. Three Feathers does the same. + + Glass just stares out into the night. + + + INT. FORT UNION/BUNKHOUSE - NIGHT + + Dark and quiet... except for the SNORING of a few men. + Fitzgerald sleeps on his cot. A shadow glides across him... + hovers over his face. + + Fitzgerald's eyes blink open. + + CUT TO: + + + FITZGERALD'S POV... + + ...on GLASS STANDING OVER HIM... his scarred face calm and + deadly... raising a knife to drive down into Fitzgerald's + chest. + + FITZGERALD + No... please. + + But Glass swings the blade. + + CUT TO: + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - MORNING + + And Spotted Horse shaking Glass awake from his dream. Glass' + hand flies up, the knife gripped. But Spotted Horse grabs + his arm... stops it in mid-swing... holds it until Glass + realizes it was a dream... relaxes. + + SPOTTED HORSE + We go. + + Glass calms... nods. + + + EXT. FORT BRAZEAU - DAY + + Just a small cluster of log buildings sitting along the banks + of the Missouri. Dozens of tee-pees and tents are set up + outside the complex. + + Glass follows Spotted Horse and Three Feathers into the camp. + BEGGING INDIANS and DRUNK TRAPPERS paw at the men as they + ride past, pleading for handouts. + 71. + + One of the Indians grabs for the hides. Three Feathers + plants his foot in the Indian's chest... shoves him back into + the snow. + + They continue on... climb off their horses outside the + TRADING POST. Three Feathers stays to guard the hides, as + Spotted Horse and Glass enter. + + + INT. TRADING POST - DAY + + A small, dingy room lined with shelves, all stacked high with + pots, pans, dry goods, whiskey, blankets, weapons... anything + that can be traded. KIOWA BRAZEAU, (60's), French-Canadian, + stands behind the counter... looks up when the BELL over the + door RINGS... sees Spotted Horse with Glass behind. + + BRAZEAU + (thick French accent) + Bon jour, Spotted Horse. You come + with many hides I hope. + (off Spotted Horse's nod) + We make good trades then. + + Brazeau's eyes lock on Glass... stares at him, unsure. + + BRAZEAU (CONT'D) + Monsieur Glass? + + GLASS + Good to see you again, Mr. Brazeau. + + BRAZEAU + Jesus Christ, what happened to your + goddamned face? + + GLASS + Had a tussle with a grizzly. + + Glass shakes Brazeau's hand. Brazeau studies his face... + notices the Bear Claw Necklace... smiles. + + BRAZEAU + And now the grizzly, he don't look + so good either, eh? + + Glass shakes his head. + + BRAZEAU (CONT'D) + (off Spotted Horse) + You run with the Sioux these days? + 72. + + GLASS + They looked after me for a spell. + I'm on my way to catch back up with + Captain Henry... at Fort Union. + Needed to trade for some supplies + on the Company's credit if I could. + + BRAZEAU + Oui, of course. Anything you like. + + Glass pulls down a KENTUCKY LONG RIFLE. + + GLASS + We can start with this. + + + INT. TRADING POST - LATER + + Glass is loaded with gear. He signs a ticket for Brazeau. + + BRAZEAU + You can pick up the horse at the + livery in the morning. + (off Glass' nod) + I wish I could give you a room for + the night, but... + + Brazeau looks to SEVERAL TRAPPERS standing across the room, + glaring at Glass. + + BRAZEAU (CONT'D) + I cannot risk the trouble of + letting a colored stay inside. + + Glass glances to the trappers... one of them spits in Glass' + direction... makes some MONKEY SOUNDS... daring Glass to + respond. Glass just turns away. + + GLASS + Won't be the last night I sleep on + the ground. + + Glass nods to Brazeau, then walks out. + + BRAZEAU + Take care of that face, Glass. + + + EXT. TRADING POST - DAY + + Spotted Horse and Three Feathers sit on their horses. The + other horses are now packed with new goods. Glass + approaches. + 73. + + GLASS + (points to the tents) + You stay here tonight? + + Spotted Horse shakes his head... motions back toward the + wilderness. Then he points to the trading post... the + TRAPPERS. + + SPOTTED HORSE + Your people? + + Glass looks back to all the white faces... trappers, drunks, + prostitutes. He shakes his head. + + GLASS + No. + + SPOTTED HORSE + You come then. + + Spotted Horse taps his own chest... points back the way they + came. Glass hesitates, almost like he's considering it... + then he shakes his head again... points the opposite way. + + GLASS + Fort Union. + + Spotted Horse stares at Glass a long beat, then... + + SPOTTED HORSE + You spend your life hunting enemy. + Enemy wins. + + GLASS + It will be over soon. + + Then Glass pulls the Bear Claw Necklace off... hands it to + Spotted Horse. Spotted Horse holds it... then proudly slides + it over his head. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + (IN SIOUX) + Thank you. + + Spotted Horse raises his hand in goodbye, then spins his + horse and starts away. Three Feathers does the same. Glass + returns it... watches them ride off. + + + EXT. FORT BRAZEAU - NIGHT + + Glass is in the trees beyond the tents and tee-pees... + crouched on the ground... + 74. + dragging the dirt back over the fire and rocks. He slides up + onto the mound... feels the warmth, and smiles... just a + little. + + + EXT. MISSOURI RIVER - MORNING + + Glass rides a PAINT MARE along a ridge overlooking the river. + Fort Brazeau stands in the distance behind him. + + + EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - DAY + + Snowy and cold. Glass leads the line of riders through the + snow. + + + EXT. FORT UNION - EVENING + + But you can't tell if it's day or night through the blizzard. + Fitzgerald, Pig, Anderson, Bridger, Murphy and Stubby Joe + trudge through the snow in their snowshoes... finally reach + the bunkhouse. + + + INT. BUNKHOUSE - EVENING + + Anderson shoves the door closed against the wind... latches + it. The men look worn and battered... wind-burnt faces, + icicles in their beards. + + FITZGERALD + I had enough of this cold as hell + shit. + + ANDERSON + What'd you figure when ya signed on + outta that St. Louis whorehouse you + was workin'? That you was headin' + off to paradise? + + Pig snorts a laugh at Fitzgerald's expense. + + FITZGERALD + I tell ya what I figured, I figured + I'd be somewhere the piss wouldn't + freeze before I got it outta my + pecker. + + BRIDGER + Figured wrong. + 75. + + Fitzgerald throws Bridger a glare... wants to throw more, but + Bridger's returning the stare... hard... so Fitzgerald + decides he'd better not push it. + + FITZGERALD + Waste a time to check traps in this + weather... while Henry sits warmin' + his ass on the stove in his office. + + STUBBY BILL + Why don't you go tell him that, + Fitz? Then start your hike back to + St. Louie. + + FITZGERALD + Shit, I walked up here, I got no + problem walkin' back. + + MURPHY + Contracted for twelve months. We + all did. + + FITZGERALD + Henry can shove that contract up + his toasty warm ass, or I'll do it + for him. + + The others laugh at Fitzgerald's rambling. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + You don't think I will? + + The men shake their heads. Fitzgerald grabs his gloves... + starts strapping his snowshoes back on. + + ANDERSON + Just give that fat little whore + you're so sweet on a couple extra + bits... she'll have you thinkin' + it's Spring already. + + The men laugh as Fitzgerald walks out... leaves the door wide + open for the cold wind to pour over the others. Pig scurries + over, shoving it closed. + + As the other men gather around a table to play cards, Bridger + pulls a JOURNAL from under his cot... falls onto the cot, and + starts writing. + + + INT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN FUR COMPANY OFFICE - EVENING + + Fitzgerald enters... looks around the empty office. + 76. + + FITZGERALD + Hello? Captain? + + The place is empty. Fitzgerald eyes Henry's desk... then + past his desk... to the SAFE... its door CRACKED OPEN... + STACKS OF MONEY visible inside. + + Fitzgerald glances around... looks back to that safe. + + + EXT. FORT UNION - NIGHT + + Dark and quiet. The snow has stopped. + + + INT. BUNKHOUSE - NIGHT + + Fitzgerald eases up from his cot... looks around at the + sleeping men. + + + EXT. FORT UNION - NIGHT + + Fitzgerald slips out of the bunkhouse door... across the + compound... toward the front gate. + + MURPHY (O.S.) + Where're you headed? + + Fitzgerald looks up... sees Murphy in the Blockhouse on + sentry duty. + + FITZGERALD + To the river, Murphy. + + Murphy squints down into the shadows. + + MURPHY + That you, Fitzgerald? + + FITZGERALD + Left my rifle down there... don't + want it out all night. + + MURPHY + That weren't too smart. + + FITZGERALD + Just don't take a shot at me when I + come back in. + + MURPHY + We'll see. + 77. + + Murphy waves Fitzgerald out. + + FITZGERALD + Not that you'd hit me if you tried. + + Murphy fakes a laugh... raises his rifle down at Fitzgerald. + + CUT TO: + + + POV DOWN MURPHY'S RIFLE... + + ...on Fitzgerald moving toward the river... disappearing into + the darkness. + + + EXT. MISSOURI RIVER - NIGHT + + Out of sight from the fort. Fitzgerald slides the ANSTADT + FROM UNDER HIS COAT... hurries down the bank... searches + under the brush and snow... pulls out an OVERTURNED CANOE. + + He drags it to the icy edge... slides it across the ice + toward the middle of the river, where the water still hasn't + frozen over. The ice CRACKS UNDER HIS FEET. Fitzgerald + climbs in the canoe... pounds the ice with the oar, breaking + it loose. + + The current seeps through the cracks... catches the canoe, + pulling it to the center of the wide river... sends + Fitzgerald shooting south. He throws a glance back at the + shadow of Fort Union in the distance... growing smaller. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY + + Clear blue sky. The sun glistening off the snow-covered + ground. Glass is bundled under furs, as he rides through the + snowy trees. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - NIGHT + + Tucked under the rooftop of trees. A small fire burns. + Glass sits on his fire-bed, looking over a map. + + An O.S. SNORT from the Paint Mare, tied to a tree. Glass + looks over in time to see the horse's ears perk up. + + With his eyes searching the darkness, Glass slowly reaches + over... grabs his rifle. Then he drops to his stomach... + slides backward into the brush. + 78. + + Glass peers through the brush... the woods seem empty... + until SEVERAL DARK SHAPES APPEAR... moving through the + distant trees... coming straight toward Glass' camp. + + Then an O.S. SNAP BEHIND GLASS... he glances back in time to + see an ARIKARA WARRIOR SWINGING A HATCHET. + + Glass spins his rifle... shoves it into the stomach of the + Warrior as he swings... BOOM... the Warrior flies back. + + The dark woods suddenly ERUPT IN WAR CRIES... Arikara appear + from all sides... charge toward the camp. + + Glass scrambles up... races toward the Paint Mare as ARROWS + AND GUNSHOTS FLASH THROUGH THE AIR ALL AROUND HIM. + + Glass swings up onto the Paint Mare... spots ELK'S TONGUE + leading the charge... the necklace of ears hanging around his + neck. And Elk's Tongue's eyes are locked on Glass... almost + like he remembers him. + + Glass takes off through the forest. + + + EXT. FOREST - NIGHT + + Glass hanging onto the paint mare, as she gallops through the + trees... the animal's nostrils spread wide, pulling in all + the oxygen it can. + + Glass glances back... sees SHAPES BEHIND HIM... HORSES... + ridden by Elk's Tongue and eight other warriors. + + Glass digs his heels into the horse, squeezing every ounce of + speed from her legs... pushing her toward the clearing up + ahead... throwing another glance back... then looking in + front of him, and realizing it isn't a clearing at all... + + ...it's the edge of the world. + + The paint mare explodes from the trees, then runs out of + ground... because she's just galloped off the side of a + cliff. + + The horse sails downward toward a thick forest of trees, its + legs flailing for something to stand on. + + Glass drops the rifle to grip the horse's mane, hanging on + for what seems an endless fall. + 79. + + The mare SLAMS LEG-FIRST INTO THE TREE-TOPS with Glass still + on her back. The Paint Mare SQUEALS as she drops into the + snow-covered trees, carrying Glass with her. + + CUT TO: + + + EXT. FOREST - CONTINUOUS + + And the horse comes crashing through the branches... the + massive limbs slowing her fall... snapping off as her body + hits and twists... tosses Glass away. + + The Paint Mare continues her deadly descent, the trees + tearing at her body... catching her head... SNAPPING her + neck. + + Glass slams off a branch... tumbles to the ground with a + thud. The Paint Mare hits the snow beside him... very dead. + + Glass struggles to breath... finally GASPS... sucks in the + oxygen. He lays there a moment... stares up through the + trees... + + ...to Elk's Tongue and the others staring down from the top + of the cliff... with no way to get to Glass. + + Glass rises to his knees... glances around for his rifle... + lost. He flinches with what must be broken ribs... drags + himself up, and staggers to the horse... pulls his knife and + cuts the snowshoes from the back of the saddle. + + He throws the snowshoes over his shoulder... continues on, + through the woods... alone... in the middle of nowhere... + again. + + + EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - DAY + + From high above... the small shape of Glass making his way + over the snowy ground... heading toward TWO DISTANT SHACKS. + + + EXT. FORT TALBOT - DAY + + A makeshift town on the banks of the Missouri. Two + ramshackle structures... the General Store and a tattered + livery stable filled with horses. + 80. + + + INT. FORT TALBOT/GENERAL STORE - DAY + + More like a saloon that sells a few supplies. A gang of + TRAPPERS drink and play cards. A RUNTY MAN stands behind the + counter, watching them... + + ...until the door blows open, and in steps Glass. He pulls + the fur hat away from his face, and what a sight he is... + scarred face stiff from the cold... ice frozen in his beard. + + The room falls silent... everyone staring at Glass. Until + TRAPPER #1 snorts a laugh. Glass limps to the counter. All + eyes follow him. + + GLASS + (struggling to make his + frozen lips move) + I'm Hugh Glass of... + + RUNTY MAN + We don't serve niggers. + + Glass stares at the Runty Man a beat, then... + + GLASS + Of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company + on my way to Fort Union. + + RUNTY MAN + I don't care if you was with Lewis + and Clark headed for the new world. + We don't serve niggers. + + GLASS + All I need is a horse and enough + supplies to... + + TRAPPER + Ice musta froze up his ears, `cause + he ain't listenin' to you, Cees. + + GLASS + ...to get me to Fort Union. I can + sign a draft made good by Captain + Henry. + + The Runty Man just stares at Glass... grins a TOOTHLESS GRIN. + + RUNTY MAN + What the fuck happened to your + face, boy? You try to slice all + the black off? + 81. + + TRAPPER #2 + Maybe we oughta help him do it + right. + + FAT TRAPPER + Best get on your way, boy. + + Glass stares back at the men for a long beat, then... + + GLASS + I'm Hugh Glass of the Rocky + Mountain Fur Company, and all I + need is... + + RUNTY MAN + (to the trappers) + Do you believe this shit? + + Trapper #1 and Trapper #2 pull the SKINNING KNIVES from their + belts... start toward Glass. + + FAT TRAPPER + Hell, I warned ya. + + GLASS + All I need... + + And that's when Trapper #1 grabs for Glass, but in a flash of + movement that catches them all off-guard, Glass has is own + knife pulled and JAMMED UNDER TRAPPER #1's CHIN. + + Everyone freezes. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + ...is a horse and enough supplies + to get me to Fort Union. + + Then Glass slides Trapper #1's PISTOL from his belt... aims + it at the other men. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + And this shooter here. All made + good by Captain Henry and The Rocky + Mountain Fur Company. + + + EXT. FORT TALBOT - DAY + + The snow pours down on the Runty Man and the trappers, as + they stand outside, rifles aimed into the distance. + + RUNTY MAN + Shoot him, goddammit! + 82. + + TRAPPER #2 + I can't get a clear look. + + RUNTY MAN + Shoot `em both! + + The Runty Man snatches one of the rifles... BOOM... fires a + wild shot past the riders. + + CUT TO: + + + GLASS - GALLOPING AWAY ON HORSEBACK... + + ...with Trapper #1 sitting backward on the horse behind him. + Glass has the pistol jammed into his ribs, and keeps glancing + back to the men growing smaller behind him. + + Finally, Glass shoves the man off the back of the horse. + Trapper #1 tumbles into the snow. + + The RUMBLE OF DISTANT GUNSHOTS... too far away to reach + Glass, who just keeps racing north. + + CUT TO: + + + THE RUNTY MAN - WATCHING GLASS ESCAPE. + + RUNTY MAN + Get after the son of a bitch! + + The trappers exchange glances... don't move. + + TRAPPER #2 + It's cold as hell, Cees. + + FAT TRAPPER + And he did say to put it all on the + Rocky Mountain tab. + + The Runty Man glares at the trappers. + + + EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - EVENING + + Glass riding the horse at a trot through the snow. + + + EXT. FORT UNION - NIGHT + + Thick with fog, and silent as death. The moon fights its way + through the mist, sending an eerie glow over the fort. + 83. + + + EXT. FORT UNION/BLOCKHOUSE - NIGHT + + Stubby Bill sits dozing in a chair, his rifle across his lap. + O.S. CRUNCHING... getting louder... loud enough to nudge + Stubby Bill awake. He sits up... peers over the wall, but + can't see anything in the fog... just hears the CRUNCHING + MOVING CLOSER... FOOTSTEPS IN THE CRISP SNOW. + + CUT TO: + + + STUBBY BILL'S POV... + + ...on the blanket of fog hanging in the air... that same + CRUNCHING, as a SHADOW APPEARS... growing clearer... a FIGURE + walking... leading a horse behind him... appearing out of the + mist like a ghost... GLASS. + + STUBBY BILL - STARES DOWN IN SHOCK... + + ...sure his eyes are betraying him. But then Glass looks + straight up at Stubby Bill, and there's no doubt. + + STUBBY BILL + Jesus Christ. + + + INT. BUNKHOUSE - NIGHT + + Dark and quiet... just Pig's snoring rattling the silence. + Suddenly the door kicks open... SLAMS into the wall... and + there's GLASS' SILHOUETTE FILLING THE DOORWAY. + + GROANS from the awakened men... hands moving through the dark + for oil lamps... turning them bright... until the room's + fully lit... and they all see Glass standing there... eyes + floating across the room, searching for a target. + + The men just stare back at him, like they're all part of the + same dream. + + Except for Bridger, who's propped up in his cot like he's + been waiting all night... waiting every night... for Glass to + appear in that doorway. + + BRIDGER + I'm sorry. + + Glass raises the stolen pistol... aims it at Bridger. And + the young man doesn't flinch... almost as if he wants to make + sure Glass doesn't miss. + 84. + + The other men just watch in silence, not sure what the hell's + going on. + + Glass holds his aim on Bridger's face... a face that's + haunted him... kept him alive. + + GLASS + You took everything I had... left + me to die. + + Glass walks toward Bridger, the gun still raised... each step + of his feet on the wood floor is like the thud of an + executioner's drum. + + MUMBLING from the other men, as they watch this ghost reach + Bridger... stand over him, the pistol aimed down. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + Why? + + BRIDGER + I was scared of dyin'. + (BEAT) + But every day since, I've wished I + had. + + Glass' finger tightens on the trigger, ready to make + Bridger's wish come true. + + The rest of the bunkhouse watches this execution in wide- + eyed, stone silence, afraid to move. + + GLASS + There wasn't no `Ree that night, + was there? + + A long beat, then... + + BRIDGER + No. + + Glass PISTOL WHIPS BRIDGER, knocking him to the floor. And + before Bridger can crawl away, Glass in over him... those + aching, frozen fists beating mercilessly down on Bridger. + + And Bridger doesn't fight back... just does his best to cover + up, but the blows keep coming, and Bridger's face is covered + in blood... + + ...just as Henry runs inside, half-dressed from where Stubby + Bill awoke him. Henry grabs Glass... pulls him off. + + Glass spins... jams his pistol right in Henry's face. + 85. + + HENRY + Hugh. Wait. + + Glass is crazy with rage... barely stops himself from pulling + that trigger. But finally, he calms... his arm sinks, + lowering his aim. He glances around the bunkhouse. + + GLASS + Where's Fitzgerald and my rifle? + + HENRY + Deserted two days ago. Along with + about five hundred dollars of + company money. + (BEAT) + Let's get some coffee to warm you + up. + (to Glass, but looking at + BRIDGER) + I wanna hear what happened. + + Glass looks back to Bridger... they hold a long stare, until + Glass walks out. + + BRIDGER + Wait. Please! + + But Glass and Henry disappear, leaving Bridger alone with all + those eyes burning into him. Bridger looks to Pig, but Pig + just lowers his eyes... can't even look at the boy. + + The men step into their boots and furs... file out after + Glass and Henry... leaving Bridger alone in the bunkhouse. + + + INT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN FUR COMPANY OFFICE - NIGHT + + Glass sits by the warmth of the stove, sipping coffee. + Henry's behind he desk, with the other men scattered around. + + GLASS + I cut the shoes loose of her, and + hiked over to Fort Talbot. + + STUBBY BILL + Christ almighty. + + GLASS + And you may hear from the fella + there about a stoled horse and + supplies charged to you. + 86. + + HENRY + We'll take care of it. You should + go settle in. + + MURPHY + There's a couple fair whores next + door that'll ease the miles on ya, + scars or not. + + Stubby Bill gives Murphy an elbow. + + ANDERSON + Jesus, Murph. + + MURPHY + I just meant I'd go roust one of + `em for ya if you wanted. + + GLASS + She can take the night off, but I + wouldn't mind the use of her bed. + + HENRY + (TO MURPHY) + Go clear out a room. The rest head + on back to bunk. + + Murphy hustles out. The others move toward the door, each + stopping to shake Glass' hand, or give him a pat on the back. + + PIG + I told ya I'd see ya up here. You + remember that, Hugh? + + GLASS + I do, Pig. You must have a little + gypsy in ya. + + Pig grins and nods. + + PIG + I'll see ya in the mornin'. + + Pig exits, leaving just Glass and Henry, sitting in a beat of + silence, until... + + HENRY + Can I talk you outta what you're + planning? + + Glass doesn't answer... just stands, placing the coffee cup + on the table. + 87. + + GLASS + Thank you for what you done for + me... stitchin' me back together... + givin' me a chance. + + HENRY + I'm offerin' you another right + now... to stay here... let this + thing go. + + GLASS + (BEAT) + He thinks he let me die. But he + don't know that he's the one that's + kept me alive... for the chance of + findin' him... makin' him pay for + what he done. + + HENRY + The law will make Fitzgerald pay. + + Glass stares out the window... his SCARRED REFLECTION stares + back at him. + + GLASS + You told me once that other men + didn't think like him. + (BEAT) + But the truth is, most do. I seen + it my whole life... the looks folks + give... the whisperin'. I watched + my wife and son die from the fever + on accounta no white doctor would + care for `em. Wasn't no different + to them than if their neighbor's + dog was sick. + (BEAT) + So I don't figure nobody's gonna + care much that Fitzgerald took some + dyin' nigger's rifle, and left him + in the middle of nowhere. + (turns to Henry) + Do you, Captain? + + Henry doesn't answer... because he knows Glass is right. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + I thank you for the coffee. + + Glass walks out. Henry just sits there. + 88. + + + EXT. FORT UNION - DAY + + Glass, Pig and Murphy stand by Glass' horse, as he ties off + his supplies. + + MURPHY + He said he was goin' to get his + rifle... + + And then Murphy catches himself... shrugs. + + MURPHY (CONT'D) + Your rifle. But he never showed + back up. The next day I figured + him mighta fell in, but then Pig + seen the canoe was missin'. + + PIG + And the Captain found the money + gone. + + GLASS + I'll make my way down river. See + what turns up. + + Glass pulls the cinch tight around the horse. Stubby Bill + comes waddling toward them. + + STUBBY BILL + The kid's gone... gear and all. + Musta slipped out before light. + + Stubby Bill waves Bridger's journal at them. + + STUBBY BILL (cont'd) + Just left this on his bunk. + + Henry takes the journal... flips it open. + + HENRY + (READING) + "Every day I think about what I + done. I want to tell Pig and the + others the truth but am afraid what + they'll think of me. I look at + Fitzgerald and want to kill him but + am afraid to try. I am a coward + and wish he hadn't been lyin about + the Ree that night. I wish they + had come and kilt us both." + + Glass considers the words a beat, then swings onto his horse. + 89. + + GLASS + If I run across the boy, I'll send + him back your way. + + Glass sees Henry on horseback, trotting toward them. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + Where're you headed? + + HENRY + Fitzgerald stole five hundred + dollars. Rocky Mountain Fur + Company wants him too. + + GLASS + I can do this on my own. + + HENRY + I know you can. But maybe you + won't have to. + + Glass stares at Henry a beat, then finally just pulls his + horse around... heads for the river. Henry nods to Pig and + Murphy as he follows after Glass. + + + EXT. ROCK LEDGE - DAY + + From above Fort Union. Our POV on Glass and Henry riding + south along the icy river. + + And then we see our POV is Bridger's... standing along the + ledge, loaded with all his gear. He watches the riders + another moment, then turns... hikes the opposite direction... + leaving Fort Union behind forever. + + + EXT. FORT TALBOT/GENERAL STORE - DAY + + The Runty Man behind the counter. A few of the same Trappers + drinking... playing cards. Just another day at Fort Talbot. + + The door swings open, and a FUR-COVERED FIGURE enters. + + RUNTY MAN + We ain't got no food to spare, + friend, if that's what you're + lookin' for. + + The figure pulls back his furs, and we see it's Fitzgerald... + cold and miserable. + 90. + + FITZGERALD + Then what the hell have ya got? + + RUNTY MAN + Whiskey and blankets mostly. + Weather's held back deliveries. + + Fitzgerald throws a glance to the Trappers. + + FITZGERALD + Gimme a couple bottles then. + Goddamn ice shredded my boat. Been + walkin' for two days. + + The Runty Man hands Fitzgerald the bottles. Fitzgerald pops + one... gulps some down. + + FITZGERALD (CONT'D) + How much for one of them horses out + there? + + RUNTY MAN + Horses ain't cheap this time a + year. + + FITZGERALD + Whatever the price, Rocky Mountain + Fur Company's good for it. + + And those words stop everything. The Trappers all turn from + their game. The Runty Man glares at Fitzgerald. + + RUNTY MAN + You're the second son of a bitch + come in here makin' that claim. + And the first one left a bad taste. + + FITZGERALD + That right? Well I don't know + nothin' about that. Just that I + need a horse. + + RUNTY MAN + So did this other fella. So he + stole one... along with Lange's + pistola. + + Trapper #1 nods to Fitzgerald. + + FITZGERALD + Fine then, I'll pay cash for the + horse. How much? + 91. + + RUNTY MAN + How `bout you pay for your friend's + too. + + TRAPPER #1 + And my shooter. + + FITZGERALD + Wasn't my friend. + + Trapper #1 stands up. + + TRAPPER #1 + Then from where I stand, you don't + got no friends at all. + + The other Trappers glare at Fitzgerald. The Runty Man just + grins that toothless smile of his. Fitzgerald's in a bind, + and he knows it. + + FITZGERALD + Yeah, okay. I'll collect from him. + How much? + + RUNTY MAN + How `bout we say eighty... + (sees Fitzgerald doesn't + ARGUE) + ...five. + + Fitzgerald starts digging into his pocket. + + FITZGERALD + You boys are leavin' me with + nothin'. Better be a helluva + horse. + + RUNTY MAN + Pick of the litter. + + The Runty Man snatches the cash. + + RUNTY MAN (cont'd) + And when you see that scarred-up + nigger, you tell him he'd best not + show up here again. + + Fitzgerald freezes... not sure he heard correctly. + + FITZGERALD + When I see who? + 92. + + RUNTY MAN + The black son of a bitch that + robbed me. You tell him that. + + A long beat, then... + + FITZGERALD + Scarred up, you say... and headed + up to Union? + + RUNTY MAN + That's what he told us. Seemed + real anxious to get there too. + + FITZGERALD + (NODS) + I'll make sure to give him the + message when I find him. + + + EXT. FORT TALBOT - DAY + + Fitzgerald sits on the horse, staring back over the ground... + his LINE OF TRACKS LEADING THROUGH THE SNOW. He turns... + looks south, then back to the tracks. + + Finally, Fitzgerald digs his heels into the horse. The + animal takes off, right along Fitzgerald's tracks in the + snow... right back toward Glass. + + + EXT. MISSOURI RIVER - DAY + + Thick ice along the edges, tapering to a narrow stream of + flowing water at the very center. + + Glass and Henry ride along the snow-covered bank. + + HENRY + Hugh. + + Henry points. Glass follows his finger along the river... to + a CANOE resting on the bank ahead. They dismount... examine + the canoe... the letters "RMFC" painted on the side. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + That's it. + + Glass runs his mittened hand along the gashes in the wood. + + GLASS + Ice tore it up. + 93. + + Glass looks to the FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW, leading deep into + the trees. He glances up to the sky... clear and blue. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + If the snow holds off, we'll have a + good trail to track. + + HENRY + What's out that direction? Talbot? + + GLASS + And the Missouri. Doubt he'd risk + the river with the `Ree. Likely + grab a horse, and cross over + high... take his chances goin' east + against the weather. When'd you + say he skipped out? + + HENRY + Three days ago now. + + GLASS + We best pick up our pace. + + They climb back onto their horses... trot into the trees. + + + EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - DAY + + Glass and Henry gallop across, their path dead on + Fitzgerald's tracks. + + + EXT. FOREST - DAY + + The snow is shallow here, the ground protected by the trees. + There's a black spot where a fire once burned, and footprints + all over the place. Glass is off his horse, crouched, + studying the site... lifting the charred chunks of wood. + + HENRY + This was Fitzgerald camped here? + + GLASS + Couple nights back. But these + tracks aren't all his. + + HENRY + He's travelin' with somebody? + 94. + + GLASS + (shakes his head) + Came in after. Prints are smooth. + Mocassins. + + Henry throws Glass a look... he knows what that means. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + Could be Sioux... Blackfoot even. + + HENRY + But you figure they're `Ree. + + GLASS + I don't figure nothin', Captain. + But whoever it is, they're a good + day behind Fitzgerald. + + Glass walks, leading his horse, as he follows the tracks away + from camp. Henry rides after him. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + And they're on his trail too, so we + should keep it quiet... don't + announce we're back here. + + HENRY + You told me once you knew enough to + keep away from the `Ree. + + GLASS + I do. + + HENRY + You figure this is smart then? + + Glass swings up onto his horse. + + GLASS + You're welcome to head back, + Captain. + + Glass trots off. Henry watches him a beat, then throws a + glance into the trees... follows after Glass. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - NIGHT + + Glass kneels on the ground, building a fire-bed... dragging + the dirt over the fire and rocks. Henry's under a blanket, + watching him. + 95. + + HENRY + What if we find Fitzgerald... and I + ask you not to do this? + + Glass spreads a blanket over the ground. + + GLASS + Don't ask me. + + Glass settles in on the warm earth. Henry just keeps + watching him. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - LATER + + ANGLE ON HENRY... + + ...asleep under the blanket. O.S. RUSTLING sends his eyes + flashing open. He raises up... rifle ready. + + He glances at Glass, who puts a finger over his lips. + + HENRY + (WHISPERS) + `Ree? + + Glass doesn't answer... just keeps searching the brush. + + Henry's groggy eyes dart around the night... spots MOVEMENT + IN THE BRUSH. + + HENRY (CONT'D) + There! + + GLASS + Wait! + + But it's too late... Henry fires... BOOM... the shot explodes + through the night... + + ...and the DEER leaps away. + + Henry looks to Glass... shakes his head... sorry. + + HENRY + So much for stayin' quiet. + + CUT TO: + 96. + + + FITZGERALD - SQUATTING BESIDE A SMALL FIRE... + + ...staring out into the darkness, as the GUNSHOT ECHOES OVER + HIM. Fitzgerald immediately throws dirt over the flames. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - NIGHT + + Glass and Henry are loaded up, back on their horses. + + HENRY + Guess you would've been better off + on your own. + + GLASS + We needed to pick up some time + anyways. + + The two riders disappear into the dark trees. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS/CLEARING - NIGHT + + Glass and Henry riding across a meadow. Glass stops... tilts + his head back to sniff the air. + + HENRY + Whatta ya got? + + GLASS + Smoke. + + Glass pulls some snow from his horse's mane... tosses it in + the air, and watches it blow to the side. + + Glass turns his horse toward the breeze... squints out into + the night. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + No more than mile out that way. + (pulls his rifle) + I'll head in from the west... you + take the east. + + HENRY + What if it's `Ree? + + GLASS + Then we leave `em be... meet back + up here. + 97. + + Henry nods... Glass takes off at a trot. Henry veers the + other direction... splitting up across the snow. + + + EXT. FOREST - NIGHT + + Splinters of moonlight shoot through the pines. Glass on + horseback, walking through the trees... appearing and + disappearing. + + He spots something in the distance... the slightest of glows. + Glass eases off his horse... wraps the reins around a branch. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT + + Henry's already off his horse... leading it through the + trees... searching as he walks. + + + EXT. FOREST - NIGHT + + Glass moves silently through the darkness... rifle poised to + aim and fire... just like the first time we saw him, + perfectly comfortable in this world. + + His eyes shine in the darkness, drifting back and forth... + picking up everything. + + He reaches the glow... the remains of a campfire. The + slightest bit of dying smoke rises into the air. Glass + crouches down, studying the surround ground... HOOF-PRINTS + blended in with the other tracks. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT + + Henry's horse is making too much noise with each step. He + stops walking... wraps the reins around a tree... walks back + around the horse... + + ...AND THERE'S FITZGERALD STARING AT HIM... + + ...Glass' Anstadt aimed and ready to fire. + + FITZGERALD + Didn't figure an important man like + you to be away from your stove on a + night as cold as this, Captain. + You lost? + + Henry just stares back at Fitzgerald and that rifle. His + eyes drift to his own rifle, still strapped onto his saddle. + 98. + + HENRY + I'm here to save your life. + + FITZGERALD + I done told you boys... I don't + need savin' by you or nobody else. + + Henry knows he's only got one chance... he makes a grab for + the rifle. + + + EXT. FOREST - NIGHT + + Glass running his fingers across the tracks. Suddenly an + O.S. GUNSHOT EXPLODES IN THE DISTANCE. Glass spins to it... + races back through the trees toward his horse. + + + EXT. FOREST - NIGHT + + Glass at full gallop through the woods... veering between + trees... ducking branches. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT + + Glass charges from the forest... spots Henry's horse standing + in the trees... tears through the snow toward it... leaps off + the still-moving animal in a fluid slide... hits the ground + with his rifle ready... + + ...and sees HENRY'S BODY face-up in the snow. + + Glass drops to a knee... scans the darkness, as he slides + over to Henry... + + ...and we see he's a bloody mess... a GUNSHOT WOUND in his + chest leaking out onto the snow... HIS HEAD SCALPED... LEFT + EAR SLICED OFF. + + Glass stands back up, turning in a circle, as he peers into + the distance around him. But there's nothing out there. + Glass SCREAMS in rage. + + He turns back to Henry... crouches down over him. + + GLASS + You shouldn't a come. + + As Glass looks at Henry, he notices something... takes Henry + by the chin, and tilts his head. And HENRY'S RIGHT EAR HAS + BEEN CUT OFF AS WELL. + 99. + + Glass stares at Henry a beat, then squints out into the + forest. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + (repeating Spotted Horse's + words under his breath) + Arikara take right ear of Sioux. + Left ear of whites. Not know what + they take from you. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS/CLEARING - NIGHT + + Glass on horseback, leading Henry's horse behind him across + the snow-covered meadow. Henry's fur-covered body is draped + over the saddle. + + + EXT. FROZEN RIVER - NIGHT + + A thick layer of ice covers the narrow river, thinning just a + bit at the center. Glass kneels near the middle, chopping at + the thick ice to get to the water beneath. He makes a + hole... dips his canteen down into it, glancing around into + the darkness. + + Then Glass turns... stares up a slope into the dark forest + beyond... like he knows what's waiting for him there. + + He walks to the horses, tied in the trees at the base of the + slope... Henry still laying across the saddle of his horse in + his bloody furs. + + Glass SNAPS A BRANCH FROM A FALLEN TREE... looks back up that + slope. + + + EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT + + OUR POV FROM DEEP IN THE FOREST... + + ...watching from the shadowy brush, as Glass appears up over + the distant slope... riding through the trees, with Henry + draped over the horse behind. + + The forest is quiet... just the CRACKING of crusty snow and + branches under the horses' hooves. + + Then BOOM... as the ANSTADT BARREL WE HADN'T SEEN BESIDE US + FLASHES IN THE NIGHT... + + ...and Glass tumbles off his horse. + 100. + + The horses prance around with a start, then settle... and + then FITZGERALD RISES FROM THE BRUSH BESIDE US... eases + toward the horses, reloading the Anstadt as he moves. + + He reaches Glass, face down in the snow... his furs covering + him. + + And Fitzgerald has that rifle aimed, ready for Glass to + suddenly roll over firing... + + ...but Glass doesn't move. Fitzgerald nudges him with his + boot, then crouches down... grabs Glass by the shoulder, and + pulls him over... + + ...and there's HENRY'S LIFELESS FACE HIDDEN BENEATH THE + FURS... and that BROKEN BRANCH sticking up along his back. + + + ANGLE FROM BEHIND HENRY'S HORSE... + + ...on the REST OF THE BRANCH RIGGED TO GLASS' SADDLE to hold + Henry upright... + + ...and then what we thought was Henry flung over the second + horse... MOVING... the bloody fur-covered arm lifting a + rifle... the head raising up... it's GLASS... taking aim... + + ...as Fitzgerald realizes what's happened... spins with the + Anstadt... + + ...to Glass laying across the horse... rifle dead set on + Fitzgerald... BOOM... BOOM... both rifles explode... + + ...Fitzgerald goes flying backward into the brush. + + Fitzgerald's wild shot hits Henry's horse, sending it rearing + up, tossing Glass to the ground. + + But Glass is on his feet in a flash... reloading as he + charges into the brush... + + ...but FITZGERALD IS GONE. + + Until the flash of movement behind Glass... he turns... as + the butt of the Anstadt whips through the air... WHACK... + clubs him across the head, sending him tumbling down the + slope to the frozen river. + + Fitzgerald swings the Anstadt back over his BLOODY SHOULDER, + snatches up his knife, and charges down the slope to finish + Glass off. + 101. + + + EXT. FROZEN RIVER - NIGHT + + Glass lies on the ice, barely conscious. Blood oozes down + his head... over his eyes. He wipes it away to see + Fitzgerald barreling down toward him. + + Fitzgerald dives in attack, but Glass kicks up his leg, + sending Fitzgerald flying over... SLAMMING into the frozen + river, his head CRACKING THE ICE. + + Glass rips the knife from his belt... moves after Fitzgerald, + his feet slipping and sliding under him. + + Fitzgerald rises to his feet... the men charge like two wild + animals... crash into each other... knives flailing. + + They roll along the ice, blades glistening... slicing through + furs... across flesh. + + Fitzgerald thrusts his knife down... plants it through the + back of Glass' hand, pinning it to the ice. Glass CRIES + OUT... drops his own knife to pull Fitzgerald's out. As he + does, Fitzgerald kicks Glass in the face, sending him sailing + back... sliding to the center of the river. + + The thin ice around him splinters... cracks. Glass looks + up... sees Fitzgerald stalking toward him, HOLDING BOTH + KNIVES now. Glass is trapped... + + ...until he pounds his elbow down on the weakened ice... it + begins to give... he pounds it again and again... Fitzgerald + speeds up to get to Glass in time... raises one of the + knives, as Glass shatters the ice... drops beneath the + surface. + + Fitzgerald rushes after him, but the ice cracks under his + feet, forcing him back. + + CUT TO: + + + UNDERWATER... + + ...and Glass just under the ice, floating with the current. + His fingers search for a hole, but there's nothing. + + CUT TO: + 102. + + + FITZGERALD... + + ...making his way down the river, peering through the ice, + searching for Glass. He spots something... stops... leans + close to make out the shape... it's GLASS' FEET. + + Then suddenly, GLASS' FIST EXPLODES THROUGH THE ICE AT + FITZGERALD'S FEET... grab Fitzgerald's leg, pulling him down. + + Fitzgerald crashes to the ice... it splinters around him... + gives away, and he sinks into the icy water... but the + ANSTADT STRAPPED AROUND HIM CATCHES ON THE ICE... holds him + against the current. + + Glass drags himself from the water... stands... stares down + at Fitzgerald trapped in the hole... his face looking up at + Glass through the ice. Glass lifts one of the fallen + knives... stands over Fitzgerald. + + FITZGERALD + (through the water and + ICE) + Help me! + (off Glass' stare) + Glass... please! + + Glass hesitates a beat, staring at him, just as he did with + Bridger that night in the bunkhouse. And then Glass leans + down... grabs the Anstadt to pull Fitzgerald up. + + Except Glass SLICES THE BLADE ACROSS THE STRAP OF THE + ANSTADT, sending Fitzgerald floating away under the ice, as + Glass holds on to the Anstadt. + + CUT TO: + + + FITZGERALD... + + ...floating under the surface... pounding at the ice as he + drifts, until his swinging slows... stops... his body drifts + away. + + + EXT. FROZEN RIVER - NIGHT + + Glass stands on the ice, blood dripping down his face, + holding his Anstadt. He begins to tremble... not from the + cold, but from finally reaching the end of this journey. His + eyes begin to fill with tears... + 103. + + ...and then he sees ELK'S TONGUE, and SEVERAL OTHER ARIKARA + WARRIORS watching him from the other side of the river. + + Glass and Elk's Tongue exchange a long stare, until finally + Glass SCREAMS OUT. + + GLASS + I am Tatanka Wicasa! I have killed + whites and I have killed Arikara + and I have killed grizzly! AND I + WILL KILL YOU! + + Elk's Tongue doesn't move... just stares back at Glass... + soaked in blood and water. Then Glass CRIES OUT at the + warriors again. + + GLASS (CONT'D) + COME ON! + + But the Arikara don't attack... don't move at all... until + Elk's Tongue gives Glass the SLIGHTEST OF NODS, then turns... + they disappear back into the trees. + + Glass watches them fade away, then collapses to his knees on + the icy river... exhausted in every possible way. + + He begins to cry. + + FADE OUT. + + + THE END diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/rinehart.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/rinehart.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d62c267 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/rinehart.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3557 @@ +The Circular Staircase + + + + + + + + Etext of The Circular Staircase + + by Mary Roberts Rinehart + + + + *****The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Circular Staircase***** + + #3 in our series by Mary Roberts Rinehart + + Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + + Please take a look at the important information in this header. + + We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an electronic path open for the next readers. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE By MARY ROBERTS RINEHART + + + + THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE + + CHAPTER I + + I TAKE A COUNTRY HOUSE: + + This is the story of how a middle-aged spinster lost her mind, deserted her domestic gods in the city, took a furnished house for the summer out of town, and found herself involved in one of those mysterious crimes that keep our newspapers and detective agencies happy and prosperous. For twenty years I had been perfectly comfortable; for twenty years I had had the window- boxes filled in the spring, the carpets lifted, the awnings put up and the furniture covered with brown linen; for as many summers I had said good-by to my friends, and, after watching their perspiring hegira, had settled down to a delicious quiet in town, where the mail comes three times a day, and the water supply does not depend on a tank on the roof. + + And then--the madness seized me. When I look back over the months I spent at Sunnyside, I wonder that I survived at all. As it is, I show the wear and tear of my harrowing experiences. I have turned very gray--Liddy reminded me of it, only yesterday, by saying that a little bluing in the rinse-water would make my hair silvery, instead of a yellowish white. I hate to be reminded of unpleasant things and I snapped her off. + + "No," I said sharply, "I'm not going to use bluing at my time of life, or starch, either." + + Liddy's nerves are gone, she says, since that awful summer, but she has enough left, goodness knows! And when she begins to go around with a lump in her throat, all I have to do is to threaten to return to Sunnyside, and she is frightened into a semblance of cheerfulness,--from which you may judge that the summer there was anything but a success. + + The newspaper accounts have been so garbled and incomplete--one of them mentioned me but once, and then only as the tenant at the time the thing happened--that I feel it my due to tell what I know. Mr. Jamieson, the detective, said himself he could never have done without me, although he gave me little enough credit, in print. + + I shall have to go back several years--thirteen, to be exact--to start my story. At that time my brother died, leaving me his two children. Halsey was eleven then, and Gertrude was seven. All the responsibilities of maternity were thrust upon me suddenly; to perfect the profession of motherhood requires precisely as many years as the child has lived, like the man who started to carry the calf and ended by walking along with the bull on his shoulders. However, I did the best I could. When Gertrude got past the hair-ribbon age, and Halsey asked for a scarf-pin and put on long trousers--and a wonderful help that was to the darning.--I sent them away to good schools. After that, my responsibility was chiefly postal, with three months every summer in which to replenish their wardrobes, look over their lists of acquaintances, and generally to take my foster-motherhood out of its nine months' retirement in camphor. + + I missed the summers with them when, somewhat later, at boarding- school and college, the children spent much of their vacations with friends. Gradually I found that my name signed to a check was even more welcome than when signed to a letter, though I wrote them at stated intervals. But when Halsey had finished his electrical course and Gertrude her boarding-school, and both came home to stay, things were suddenly changed. The winter Gertrude came out was nothing but a succession of sitting up late at night to bring her home from things, taking her to the dressmakers between naps the next day, and discouraging ineligible youths with either more money than brains, or more brains than money. Also, I acquired a great many things: to say lingerie for under-garments, "frocks" and "gowns" instead of dresses, and that beardless sophomores are not college boys, but college men. Halsey required less personal supervision, and as they both got their mother's fortune that winter, my responsibility became purely moral. Halsey bought a car, of course, and I learned how to tie over my bonnet a gray baize veil, and, after a time, never to stop to look at the dogs one has run down. People are apt to be so unpleasant about their dogs. + + The additions to my education made me a properly equipped maiden aunt, and by spring I was quite tractable. So when Halsey suggested camping in the Adirondacks and Gertrude wanted Bar Harbor, we compromised on a good country house with links near, within motor distance of town and telephone distance of the doctor. That was how we went to Sunnyside. + + We went out to inspect the property, and it seemed to deserve its name. Its cheerful appearance gave no indication whatever of anything out of the ordinary. Only one thing seemed unusual to me: the housekeeper, who had been left in charge, had moved from the house to the gardener's lodge, a few days before. As the lodge was far enough away from the house, it seemed to me that either fire or thieves could complete their work of destruction undisturbed. The property was an extensive one: the house on the top of a hill, which sloped away in great stretches of green lawn and clipped hedges, to the road; and across the valley, perhaps a couple of miles away, was the Greenwood Club House. Gertrude and Halsey were infatuated. + + "Why, it's everything you want," Halsey said "View, air, good water and good roads. As for the house, it's big enough for a hospital, if it has a Queen Anne front and a Mary Anne back," which was ridiculous: it was pure Elizabethan. + + Of course we took the place; it was not my idea of comfort, being much too large and sufficiently isolated to make the servant question serious. But I give myself credit for this: whatever has happened since, I never blamed Halsey and Gertrude for taking me there. And another thing: if the series of catastrophes there did nothing else, it taught me one thing--that somehow, somewhere, from perhaps a half-civilized ancestor who wore a sheepskin garment and trailed his food or his prey, I have in me the instinct of the chase. Were I a man I should be a trapper of criminals, trailing them as relentlessly as no doubt my sheepskin ancestor did his wild boar. But being an unmarried woman, with the handicap of my sex, my first acquaintance with crime will probably be my last. Indeed, it came near enough to being my last acquaintance with anything. + + The property was owned by Paul Armstrong, the president of the Traders' Bank, who at the time we took the house was in the west with his wife and daughter, and a Doctor Walker, the Armstrong family physician. Halsey knew Louise Armstrong,--had been rather attentive to her the winter before, but as Halsey was always attentive to somebody, I had not thought of it seriously, although she was a charming girl. I knew of Mr. Armstrong only through his connection with the bank, where the children's money was largely invested, and through an ugly story about the son, Arnold Armstrong, who was reported to have forged his father's name, for a considerable amount, to some bank paper. However, the story had had no interest for me. + + I cleared Halsey and Gertrude away to a house party, and moved out to Sunnyside the first of May. The roads were bad, but the trees were in leaf, and there were still tulips in the borders around the house. The arbutus was fragrant in the woods under the dead leaves, and on the way from the station, a short mile, while the car stuck in the mud, I found a bank showered with tiny forget-me-nots. The birds--don't ask me what kind; they all look alike to me, unless they have a hall mark of some bright color-- the birds were chirping in the hedges, and everything breathed of peace. Liddy, who was born and bred on a brick pavement, got a little bit down-spirited when the crickets began to chirp, or scrape their legs together, or whatever it is they do, at twilight. + + The first night passed quietly enough. I have always been grateful for that one night's peace; it shows what the country might be, under favorable circumstances. Never after that night did I put my head on my pillow with any assurance how long it would be there; or on my shoulders, for that matter. + + On the following morning Liddy and Mrs. Ralston, my own housekeeper, had a difference of opinion, and Mrs. Ralston left on the eleven train. Just after luncheon, Burke, the butler, was taken unexpectedly with a pain in his right side, much worse when I was within hearing distance, and by afternoon he was started cityward. That night the cook's sister had a baby--the cook, seeing indecision in my face, made it twins on second thought-- and, to be short, by noon the next day the household staff was down to Liddy and myself. And this in a house with twenty-two rooms and five baths! + + Liddy wanted to go back to the city at once, but the milk-boy said that Thomas Johnson, the Armstrongs' colored butler, was working as a waiter at the Greenwood Club, and might come back. I have the usual scruples about coercing people's servants away, but few of us have any conscience regarding institutions or corporations--witness the way we beat railroads and street-car companies when we can--so I called up the club, and about eight o'clock Thomas Johnson came to see me. Poor Thomas! + + Well, it ended by my engaging Thomas on the spot, at outrageous wages, and with permission to sleep in the gardener's lodge, empty since the house was rented. The old man--he was white- haired and a little stooped, but with an immense idea of his personal dignity--gave me his reasons hesitatingly. + + "I ain't sayin' nothin', Mis' Innes," he said, with his hand on the door-knob, "but there's been goin's-on here this las' few months as ain't natchal. 'Tain't one thing an' 'tain't another-- it's jest a door squealin' here, an' a winder closin' there, but when doors an' winders gets to cuttin' up capers and there's nobody nigh 'em, it's time Thomas Johnson sleeps somewhar's else." + + Liddy, who seemed to be never more than ten feet away from me that night, and was afraid of her shadow in that great barn of a place, screamed a little, and turned a yellow-green. But I am not easily alarmed. + + It was entirely in vain; I represented to Thomas that we were alone, and that he would have to stay in the house that night. He was politely firm, but he would come over early the next morning, and if I gave him a key, he would come in time to get some sort of breakfast. I stood on the huge veranda and watched him shuffle along down the shadowy drive, with mingled feelings--irritation at his cowardice and thankfulness at getting him at all. I am not ashamed to say that I double-locked the hall door when I went in. + + "You can lock up the rest of the house and go to bed, Liddy," I said severely. "You give me the creeps standing there. A woman of your age ought to have better sense." It usually braces Liddy to mention her age: she owns to forty--which is absurd. Her mother cooked for my grandfather, and Liddy must be at least as old as I. But that night she refused to brace. + + "You're not going to ask me to lock up, Miss Rachel!" she quavered. "Why, there's a dozen French windows in the drawing- room and the billiard-room wing, and every one opens on a porch. And Mary Anne said that last night there was a man standing by the stable when she locked the kitchen door." + + "Mary Anne was a fool," I said sternly. "If there had been a man there, she would have had him in the kitchen and been feeding him what was left from dinner, inside of an hour, from force of habit. Now don't be ridiculous. Lock up the house and go to bed. I am going to read." + + But Liddy set her lips tight and stood still. + + "I'm not going to bed," she said. "I am going to pack up, and to-morrow I am going to leave." + + "You'll do nothing of the sort," I snapped. Liddy and I often desire to part company, but never at the same time. "If you are afraid, I will go with you, but for goodness' sake don't try to hide behind me." + + The house was a typical summer residence on an extensive scale. Wherever possible, on the first floor, the architect had done away with partitions, using arches and columns instead. The effect was cool and spacious, but scarcely cozy. As Liddy and I went from one window to another, our voices echoed back at us uncomfortably. There was plenty of light--the electric plant down in the village supplied us--but there were long vistas of polished floor, and mirrors which reflected us from unexpected corners, until I felt some of Liddy's foolishness communicate itself to me. + + The house was very long, a rectangle in general form, with the main entrance in the center of the long side. The brick-paved entry opened into a short hall to the right of which, separated only by a row of pillars, was a huge living-room. Beyond that was the drawing-room, and in the end, the billiard-room. Off the billiard-room, in the extreme right wing, was a den, or card-room, with a small hall opening on the east veranda, and from there went up a narrow circular staircase. Halsey had pointed it out with delight. + + "Just look, Aunt Rachel," he said with a flourish. "The architect that put up this joint was wise to a few things. Arnold Armstrong and his friends could sit here and play cards all night and stumble up to bed in the early morning, without having the family send in a police call." + + Liddy and I got as far as the card-room and turned on all the lights. I tried the small entry door there, which opened on the veranda, and examined the windows. Everything was secure, and Liddy, a little less nervous now, had just pointed out to me the disgracefully dusty condition of the hard-wood floor, when suddenly the lights went out. We waited a moment; I think Liddy was stunned with fright, or she would have screamed. And then I clutched her by the arm and pointed to one of the windows opening on the porch. The sudden change threw the window into relief, an oblong of grayish light, and showed us a figure standing close, peering in. As I looked it darted across the veranda and out of sight in the darkness. + + CHAPTER II + + A LINK CUFF-BUTTON + + Liddy's knees seemed to give away under her. Without a sound she sank down, leaving me staring at the window in petrified amazement. Liddy began to moan under her breath, and in my excitement I reached down and shook her. + + "Stop it," I whispered. "It's only a woman--maybe a maid of the Armstrongs'. Get up and help me find the door." She groaned again. "Very well," I said, "then I'll have to leave you here. I'm going." + + She moved at that, and, holding to my sleeve, we felt our way, with numerous collisions, to the billiard-room, and from there to the drawing-room. The lights came on then, and, with the long French windows unshuttered, I had a creepy feeling that each one sheltered a peering face. In fact, in the light of what happened afterward, I am pretty certain we were under surveillance during the entire ghostly evening. We hurried over the rest of the locking-up and got upstairs as quickly as we could. I left the lights all on, and our footsteps echoed cavernously. Liddy had a stiff neck the next morning, from looking back over her shoulder, and she refused to go to bed. + + "Let me stay in your dressing-room, Miss Rachel," she begged. "If you don't, I'll sit in the hall outside the door. I'm not going to be murdered with my eyes shut." + + "If you're going to be murdered," I retorted, "it won't make any difference whether they are shut or open. But you may stay in the dressing-room, if you will lie on the couch: when you sleep in a chair you snore." + + She was too far gone to be indignant, but after a while she came to the door and looked in to where I was composing myself for sleep with Drummond's Spiritual Life. + + "That wasn't a woman, Miss Rachel," she said, with her shoes in her hand. "It was a man in a long coat." + + "What woman was a man?" I discouraged her without looking up, and she went back to the couch. + + It was eleven o'clock when I finally prepared for bed. In spite of my assumption of indifference, I locked the door into the hall, and finding the transom did not catch, I put a chair cautiously before the door--it was not necessary to rouse Liddy-- and climbing up put on the ledge of the transom a small dressing- mirror, so that any movement of the frame would send it crashing down. Then, secure in my precautions, I went to bed. + + I did not go to sleep at once. Liddy disturbed me just as I was growing drowsy, by coming in and peering under the bed. She was afraid to speak, however, because of her previous snubbing, and went back, stopping in the doorway to sigh dismally. + + Somewhere down-stairs a clock with a chime sang away the hours-- eleven-thirty, forty-five, twelve. And then the lights went out to stay. The Casanova Electric Company shuts up shop and goes home to bed at midnight: when one has a party, I believe it is customary to fee the company, which will drink hot coffee and keep awake a couple of hours longer. But the lights were gone for good that night. Liddy had gone to sleep, as I knew she would. She was a very unreliable person: always awake and ready to talk when she wasn't wanted and dozing off to sleep when she was. I called her once or twice, the only result being an explosive snore that threatened her very windpipe--then I got up and lighted a bedroom candle. + + My bedroom and dressing room were above the big living-room on the first floor. On the second floor a long corridor ran the length of the house, with rooms opening from both sides. In the wings were small corridors crossing the main one--the plan was simplicity itself. And just as I got back into bed, I heard a sound from the east wing, apparently, that made me stop, frozen, with one bedroom slipper half off, and listen. It was a rattling metallic sound, and it reverberated along the empty halls like the crash of doom. It was for all the world as if something heavy, perhaps a piece of steel, had rolled clattering and jangling down the hard-wood stairs leading to the card-room. + + In the silence that followed Liddy stirred and snored again. I was exasperated: first she kept me awake by silly alarms, then when she was needed she slept like Joe Jefferson, or Rip,--they are always the same to me. I went in and aroused her, and I give her credit for being wide awake the minute I spoke. + + "Get up," I said, "if you don't want to be murdered in your bed." + + "Where? How?" she yelled vociferously, and jumped up. + + "There's somebody in the house," I said. "Get up. We'll have to get to the telephone." + + "Not out in the hall!" she gasped; "Oh, Miss Rachel, not out in the hall!" trying to hold me back. But I am a large woman and Liddy is small. We got to the door, somehow, and Liddy held a brass andiron, which it was all she could do to lift, let alone brain anybody with. I listened, and, hearing nothing, opened the door a little and peered into the hall. It was a black void, full of terrible suggestion, and my candle only emphasized the gloom. Liddy squealed and drew me back again, and as the door slammed, the mirror I had put on the transom came down and hit her on the head. That completed our demoralization. It was some time before I could persuade her she had not been attacked from behind by a burglar, and when she found the mirror smashed on the floor she wasn't much better. + + "There's going to be a death!" she wailed. "Oh, Miss Rachel, there's going to be a death!" + + "There will be," I said grimly, "if you don't keep quiet, Liddy Allen." + + And so we sat there until morning, wondering if the candle would last until dawn, and arranging what trains we could take back to town. If we had only stuck to that decision and gone back before it was too late! + + The sun came finally, and from my window I watched the trees along the drive take shadowy form, gradually lose their ghostlike appearance, become gray and then green. The Greenwood Club showed itself a dab of white against the hill across the valley, and an early robin or two hopped around in the dew. Not until the milk-boy and the sun came, about the same time, did I dare to open the door into the hall and look around. Everything was as we had left it. Trunks were heaped here and there, ready for the trunk-room, and through an end window of stained glass came a streak of red and yellow daylight that was eminently cheerful. The milk-boy was pounding somewhere below, and the day had begun. + + Thomas Johnson came ambling up the drive about half-past six, and we could hear him clattering around on the lower floor, opening shutters. I had to take Liddy to her room up-stairs, however,--she was quite sure she would find something uncanny. In fact, when she did not, having now the courage of daylight, she was actually disappointed. + + Well, we did not go back to town that day. + + The discovery of a small picture fallen from the wall of the drawing-room was quite sufficient to satisfy Liddy that the alarm had been a false one, but I was anything but convinced. Allowing for my nerves and the fact that small noises magnify themselves at night, there was still no possibility that the picture had made the series of sounds I heard. To prove it, however, I dropped it again. It fell with a single muffled crash of its wooden frame, and incidentally ruined itself beyond repair. I justified myself by reflecting that if the Armstrongs chose to leave pictures in unsafe positions, and to rent a house with a family ghost, the destruction of property was their responsibility, not mine. + + I warned Liddy not to mention what had happened to anybody, and telephoned to town for servants. Then after a breakfast which did more credit to Thomas' heart than his head, I went on a short tour of investigation. The sounds had come from the east wing, and not without some qualms I began there. At first I found nothing. Since then I have developed my powers of observation, but at that time I was a novice. The small card- room seemed undisturbed. I looked for footprints, which is, I believe, the conventional thing to do, although my experience has been that as clues both footprints and thumb-marks are more useful in fiction than in fact. But the stairs in that wing offered something. + + At the top of the flight had been placed a tall wicker hamper, packed, with linen that had come from town. It stood at the edge of the top step, almost barring passage, and on the step below it was a long fresh scratch. For three steps the scratch was repeated, gradually diminishing, as if some object had fallen, striking each one. Then for four steps nothing. On the fifth step below was a round dent in the hard wood. That was all, and it seemed little enough, except that I was positive the marks had not been there the day before. + + It bore out my theory of the sound, which had been for all the world like the bumping of a metallic object down a flight of steps. The four steps had been skipped. I reasoned that an iron bar, for instance, would do something of the sort,--strike two or three steps, end down, then turn over, jumping a few stairs, and landing with a thud. + + Iron bars, however, do not fall down-stairs in the middle of the night alone. Coupled with the figure on the veranda the agency by which it climbed might be assumed. But--and here was the thing that puzzled me most--the doors were all fastened that morning, the windows unmolested, and the particular door from the card-room to the veranda had a combination lock of which I held the key, and which had not been tampered with. + + I fixed on an attempt at burglary, as the most natural explanation--an attempt frustrated by the falling of the object, whatever it was, that had roused me. Two things I could not understand: how the intruder had escaped with everything locked, and why he had left the small silver, which, in the absence of a butler, had remained down-stairs over night. + + Under pretext of learning more about the place, Thomas Johnson led me through the house and the cellars, without result. Everything was in good order and repair; money had been spent lavishly on construction and plumbing. The house was full of conveniences, and I had no reason to repent my bargain, save the fact that, in the nature of things, night must come again. And other nights must follow--and we were a long way from a police-station. + + In the afternoon a hack came up from Casanova, with a fresh relay of servants. The driver took them with a flourish to the servants' entrance, and drove around to the front of the house, where I was awaiting him. + + "Two dollars," he said in reply to my question. "I don't charge full rates, because, bringin' 'em up all summer as I do, it pays to make a special price. When they got off the train, I sez, sez I, `There's another bunch for Sunnyside, cook, parlor maid and all.' Yes'm--six summers, and a new lot never less than once a month. They won't stand for the country and the lonesomeness, I reckon." + + But with the presence of the "bunch" of servants my courage revived, and late in the afternoon came a message from Gertrude that she and Halsey would arrive that night at about eleven o'clock, coming in the car from Richfield. Things were looking up; and when Beulah, my cat, a most intelligent animal, found some early catnip on a bank near the house and rolled in it in a feline ecstasy, I decided that getting back to nature was the thing to do. + + While I was dressing for dinner, Liddy rapped at the door. She was hardly herself yet, but privately I think she was worrying about the broken mirror and its augury, more than anything else. When she came in she was holding something in her hand, and she laid it on the dressing-table carefully. + + "I found it in the linen hamper," she said. "It must be Mr. Halsey's, but it seems queer how it got there." + + It was the half of a link cuff-button of unique design, and I looked at it carefully. + + "Where was it? In the bottom of the hamper?" I asked. + + "On the very top," she replied. "It's a mercy it didn't fall out on the way." + + When Liddy had gone I examined the fragment attentively. I had never seen it before, and I was certain it was not Halsey's. It was of Italian workmanship, and consisted of a mother-of-pearl foundation, encrusted with tiny seed-pearls, strung on horsehair to hold them. In the center was a small ruby. The trinket was odd enough, but not intrinsically of great value. Its interest for me lay in this: Liddy had found it lying in the top of the hamper which had blocked the east-wing stairs. + + That afternoon the Armstrongs' housekeeper, a youngish good- looking woman, applied for Mrs. Ralston's place, and I was glad enough to take her. She looked as though she might be equal to a dozen of Liddy, with her snapping black eyes and heavy jaw. Her name was Anne Watson, and I dined that evening for the first time in three days. + + CHAPTER III + + MR. JOHN BAILEY APPEARS + + I had dinner served in the breakfast-room. Somehow the huge dining-room depressed me, and Thomas, cheerful enough all day, allowed his spirits to go down with the sun. He had a habit of watching the corners of the room, left shadowy by the candles on the table, and altogether it was not a festive meal. + + Dinner over I went into the living-room. I had three hours before the children could possibly arrive, and I got out my knitting. I had brought along two dozen pairs of slipper soles in assorted sizes--I always send knitted slippers to the Old Ladies' Home at Christmas--and now I sorted over the wools with a grim determination not to think about the night before. But my mind was not on my work: at the end of a half-hour I found I had put a row of blue scallops on Eliza Klinefelter's lavender slippers, and I put them away. + + I got out the cuff-link and went with it to the pantry. Thomas was wiping silver and the air was heavy with tobacco smoke. I sniffed and looked around, but there was no pipe to be seen. + + "Thomas," I said, "you have been smoking." + + "No, ma'm." He was injured innocence itself. "It's on my coat, ma'm. Over at the club the gentlemen--" + + But Thomas did not finish. The pantry was suddenly filled with the odor of singeing cloth. Thomas gave a clutch at his coat, whirled to the sink, filled a tumbler with water and poured it into his right pocket with the celerity of practice. + + "Thomas," I said, when he was sheepishly mopping the floor, "smoking is a filthy and injurious habit. If you must smoke, you must; but don't stick a lighted pipe in your pocket again. Your skin's your own: you can blister it if you like. But this house is not mine, and I don't want a conflagration. Did you ever see this cuff-link before?" + + No, he never had, he said, but he looked at it oddly. + + "I picked it up in the hall," I added indifferently. The old man's eyes were shrewd under his bushy eyebrows. + + "There's strange goin's-on here, Mis' Innes," he said, shaking his head. "Somethin's goin' to happen, sure. You ain't took notice that the big clock in the hall is stopped, I reckon?" + + "Nonsense," I said. "Clocks have to stop, don't they, if they're not wound?" + + "It's wound up, all right, and it stopped at three o'clock last night," he answered solemnly. "More'n that, that there clock ain't stopped for fifteen years, not since Mr. Armstrong's first wife died. And that ain't all,--no MA'M. Last three nights I slep' in this place, after the electrics went out I had a token. My oil lamp was full of oil, but it kep' goin' out, do what I would. Minute I shet my eyes, out that lamp'd go. There ain't no surer token of death. The Bible sez, LET YER LIGHT SHINE! When a hand you can't see puts yer light out, it means death, sure." + + The old man's voice was full of conviction. In spite of myself I had a chilly sensation in the small of my back, and I left him mumbling over his dishes. Later on I heard a crash from the pantry, and Liddy reported that Beulah, who is coal black, had darted in front of Thomas just as he picked up a tray of dishes; that the bad omen had been too much for him, and he had dropped the tray. + + The chug of the automobile as it climbed the hill was the most welcome sound I had heard for a long time, and with Gertrude and Halsey actually before me, my troubles seemed over for good. Gertrude stood smiling in the hall, with her hat quite over one ear, and her hair in every direction under her pink veil. Gertrude is a very pretty girl, no matter how her hat is, and I was not surprised when Halsey presented a good-looking young man, who bowed at me and looked at Trude--that is the ridiculous nickname Gertrude brought from school. + + "I have brought a guest, Aunt Ray," Halsey said. "I want you to adopt him into your affections and your Saturday-to-Monday list. Let me present John Bailey, only you must call him Jack. In twelve hours he'll be calling you `Aunt': I know him." + + We shook hands, and I got a chance to look at Mr. Bailey; he was a tall fellow, perhaps thirty, and he wore a small mustache. I remember wondering why: he seemed to have a good mouth and when he smiled his teeth were above the average. One never knows why certain men cling to a messy upper lip that must get into things, any more than one understands some women building up their hair on wire atrocities. Otherwise, he was very good to look at, stalwart and tanned, with the direct gaze that I like. I am particular about Mr. Bailey, because he was a prominent figure in what happened later. + + Gertrude was tired with the trip and went up to bed very soon. I made up my mind to tell them nothing; until the next day, and then to make as light of our excitement as possible. After all, what had I to tell? An inquisitive face peering in at a window; a crash in the night; a scratch or two on the stairs, and half a cuff-button! As for Thomas and his forebodings, it was always my belief that a negro is one part thief, one part pigment, and the rest superstition. + + It was Saturday night. The two men went to the billiard-room, and I could hear them talking as I went up-stairs. It seemed that Halsey had stopped at the Greenwood Club for gasolene and found Jack Bailey there, with the Sunday golf crowd. Mr. Bailey had not been hard to persuade--probably Gertrude knew why--and they had carried him off triumphantly. I roused Liddy to get them something to eat--Thomas was beyond reach in the lodge--and paid no attention to her evident terror of the kitchen regions. Then I went to bed. The men were still in the billiard-room when I finally dozed off, and the last thing I remember was the howl of a dog in front of the house. It wailed a crescendo of woe that trailed off hopefully, only to break out afresh from a new point of the compass. + + At three o'clock in the morning I was roused by a revolver shot. The sound seemed to come from just outside my door. For a moment I could not move. Then--I heard Gertrude stirring in her room, and the next moment she had thrown open the connecting door. + + "O Aunt Ray! Aunt Ray!" she cried hysterically. "Some one has been killed, killed!" + + "Thieves," I said shortly. "Thank goodness, there are some men in the house to-night." I was getting into my slippers and a bath-robe, and Gertrude with shaking hands was lighting a lamp. Then we opened the door into the hall, where, crowded on the upper landing of the stairs, the maids, white-faced and trembling, were peering down, headed by Liddy. I was greeted by a series of low screams and questions, and I tried to quiet them. + + Gertrude had dropped on a chair and sat there limp and shivering. + + I went at once across the hall to Halsey's room and knocked; then I pushed the door open. It was empty; the bed had not been occupied! + + "He must be in Mr. Bailey's room," I said excitedly, and followed by Liddy, we went there. Like Halsey's, it had not been occupied! Gertrude was on her feet now, but she leaned against the door for support. + + "They have been killed!" she gasped. Then she caught me by the arm and dragged me toward the stairs. "They may only be hurt, and we must find them," she said, her eyes dilated with excitement. + + I don't remember how we got down the stairs: I do remember expecting every moment to be killed. The cook was at the telephone up-stairs, calling the Greenwood Club, and Liddy was behind me, afraid to come and not daring to stay behind. We found the living-room and the drawing-room undisturbed. Somehow I felt that whatever we found would be in the card-room or on the staircase, and nothing but the fear that Halsey was in danger drove me on; with every step my knees seemed to give way under me. Gertrude was ahead and in the card-room she stopped, holding her candle high. Then she pointed silently to the doorway into the hall beyond. Huddled there on the floor, face down, with his arms extended, was a man. + + Gertrude ran forward with a gasping sob. "Jack," she cried, "oh, Jack!" + + Liddy had run, screaming, and the two of us were there alone. It was Gertrude who turned him over, finally, until we could see his white face, and then she drew a deep breath and dropped limply to her knees. It was the body of a man, a gentleman, in a dinner coat and white waistcoat, stained now with blood--the body of a man I had never seen before. + + CHAPTER IV + + WHERE IS HALSEY? + + Gertrude gazed at the face in a kind of fascination. Then she put out her hands blindly, and I thought she was going to faint. + + "He has killed him!" she muttered almost inarticulately; and at that, because my nerves were going, I gave her a good shake. + + "What do you mean?" I said frantically. There was a depth of grief and conviction in her tone that was worse than anything she could have said. The shake braced her, anyhow, and she seemed to pull herself together. But not another word would she say: she stood gazing down at that gruesome figure on the floor, while Liddy, ashamed of her flight and afraid to come back alone, drove before her three terrified women-servants into the drawing-room, which was as near as any of them would venture. + + Once in the drawing-room, Gertrude collapsed and went from one fainting spell into another. I had all I could do to keep Liddy from drowning her with cold water, and the maids huddled in a corner, as much use as so many sheep. In a short time, although it seemed hours, a car came rushing up, and Anne Watson, who had waited to dress, opened the door. Three men from the Greenwood Club, in all kinds of costumes, hurried in. I recognized a Mr. Jarvis, but the others were strangers. + + "What's wrong?" the Jarvis man asked--and we made a strange picture, no doubt. "Nobody hurt, is there?" He was looking at Gertrude. + + "Worse than that, Mr. Jarvis," I said. "I think it is murder." + + At the word there was a commotion. The cook began to cry, and Mrs. Watson knocked over a chair. The men were visibly impressed. + + "Not any member of the family?" Mr. Jarvis asked, when he had got his breath. + + "No," I said; and motioning Liddy to look after Gertrude, I led the way with a lamp to the card-room door. One of the men gave an exclamation, and they all hurried across the room. Mr. Jarvis took the lamp from me--I remember that--and then, feeling myself getting dizzy and light-headed, I closed my eyes. When I opened them their brief examination was over, and Mr. Jarvis was trying to put me in a chair. + + "You must get up-stairs," he said firmly, "you and Miss Gertrude, too. This has been a terrible shock. In his own home, too." + + I stared at him without comprehension. "Who is it?" I asked with difficulty. There was a band drawn tight around my throat. + + "It is Arnold Armstrong," he said, looking at me oddly, "and he has been murdered in his father's house." + + After a minute I gathered myself together and Mr. Jarvis helped me into the living-room. Liddy had got Gertrude up-stairs, and the two strange men from the club stayed with the body. The reaction from the shock and strain was tremendous: I was collapsed--and then Mr. Jarvis asked me a question that brought back my wandering faculties. + + "Where is Halsey?" he asked. + + "Halsey!" Suddenly Gertrude's stricken face rose before me the empty rooms up-stairs. Where was Halsey? + + "He was here, wasn't he?" Mr. Jarvis persisted. "He stopped at the club on his way over." + + "I--don't know where he is," I said feebly. + + One of the men from the club came in, asked for the telephone, and I could hear him excitedly talking, saying something about coroners and detectives. Mr. Jarvis leaned over to me. + + "Why don't you trust me, Miss Innes?" he said. "If I can do anything I will. But tell me the whole thing." + + I did, finally, from the beginning, and when I told of Jack Bailey's being in the house that night, he gave a long whistle. + + "I wish they were both here," he said when I finished. "Whatever mad prank took them away, it would look better if they were here. Especially--" + + "Especially what?" + + "Especially since Jack Bailey and Arnold Armstrong were notoriously bad friends. It was Bailey who got Arnold into trouble last spring--something about the bank. And then, too--" + + "Go on," I said. "If there is anything more, I ought to know." + + "There's nothing more," he said evasively. "There's just one thing we may bank on, Miss Innes. Any court in the country will acquit a man who kills an intruder in his house, at night. If Halsey--" + + "Why, you don't think Halsey did it!" I exclaimed. There was a queer feeling of physical nausea coming over me. + + "No, no, not at all," he said with forced cheerfulness. "Come, Miss Innes, you're a ghost of yourself and I am going to help you up-stairs and call your maid. This has been too much for you." + + Liddy helped me back to bed, and under the impression that I was in danger of freezing to death, put a hot-water bottle over my heart and another at my feet. Then she left me. It was early dawn now, and from voices under my window I surmised that Mr. Jarvis and his companions were searching the grounds. As for me, I lay in bed, with every faculty awake. Where had Halsey gone? How had he gone, and when? Before the murder, no doubt, but who would believe that? If either he or Jack Bailey had heard an intruder in the house and shot him--as they might have been justified in doing--why had they run away? The whole thing was unheard of, outrageous, and--impossible to ignore. + + About six o'clock Gertrude came in. She was fully dressed, and I sat up nervously. + + "Poor Aunty!" she said. "What a shocking night you have had!" She came over and sat down on the bed, and I saw she looked very tired and worn. + + "Is there anything new?" I asked anxiously. + + "Nothing. The car is gone, but Warner"--he is the chauffeur-- "Warner is at the lodge and knows nothing about it." + + "Well," I said, "if I ever get my hands on Halsey Innes, I shall not let go until I have told him a few things. When we get this cleared up, I am going back to the city to be quiet. One more night like the last two will end me. The peace of the country-- fiddle sticks!" + + Whereupon I told Gertrude of the noises the night before, and the figure on the veranda in the east wing. As an afterthought I brought out the pearl cuff-link. + + "I have no doubt now," I said, "that it was Arnold Armstrong the night before last, too. He had a key, no doubt, but why he should steal into his father's house I can not imagine. He could have come with my permission, easily enough. Anyhow, whoever it was that night, left this little souvenir." + + Gertrude took one look at the cuff-link, and went as white as the pearls in it; she clutched at the foot of the bed, and stood staring. As for me, I was quite as astonished as she was. + + "Where did--you--find it?" she asked finally, with a desperate effort at calm. And while I told her she stood looking out of the window with a look I could not fathom on her face. It was a relief when Mrs. Watson tapped at the door and brought me some tea and toast. The cook was in bed, completely demoralized, she reported, and Liddy, brave with the daylight, was looking for footprints around the house. Mrs. Watson herself was a wreck; she was blue-white around the lips, and she had one hand tied up. + + She said she had fallen down-stairs in her excitement. It was natural, of course, that the thing would shock her, having been the Armstrongs' housekeeper for several years, and knowing Mr. Arnold well. + + Gertrude had slipped out during my talk with Mrs. Watson, and I dressed and went down-stairs. The billiard and card-rooms were locked until the coroner and the detectives got there, and the men from the club had gone back for more conventional clothing. + + I could hear Thomas in the pantry, alternately wailing for Mr. Arnold, as he called him, and citing the tokens that had precursed the murder. The house seemed to choke me, and, slipping a shawl around me, I went out on the drive. At the corner by the east wing I met Liddy. Her skirts were draggled with dew to her knees, and her hair was still in crimps. + + "Go right in and change your clothes," I said sharply. "You're a sight, and at your age!" + + She had a golf-stick in her hand, and she said she had found it on the lawn. There was nothing unusual about it, but it occurred to me that a golf-stick with a metal end might have been the object that had scratched the stairs near the card-room. I took it from her, and sent her up for dry garments. Her daylight courage and self-importance, and her shuddering delight in the mystery, irritated me beyond words. After I left her I made a circuit of the building. Nothing seemed to be disturbed: the house looked as calm and peaceful in the morning sun as it had the day I had been coerced into taking it. There was nothing to show that inside had been mystery and violence and sudden death. + + In one of the tulip beds back of the house an early blackbird was pecking viciously at something that glittered in the light. I picked my way gingerly over through the dew and stooped down: almost buried in the soft ground was a revolver! I scraped the earth off it with the tip of my shoe, and, picking it up, slipped it into my pocket. Not until I had got into my bedroom and double-locked the door did I venture to take it out and examine it. One look was all I needed. It was Halsey's revolver. I had unpacked it the day before and put it on his shaving-stand, and there could be no mistake. His name was on a small silver plate on the handle. + + I seemed to see a network closing around my boy, innocent as I knew he was. The revolver--I am afraid of them, but anxiety gave me courage to look through the barrel--the revolver had still two bullets in it. I could only breathe a prayer of thankfulness that I had found the revolver before any sharp-eyed detective had come around. + + I decided to keep what clues I had, the cuff-link, the golf-stick and the revolver, in a secure place until I could see some reason for displaying them. The cuff-link had been dropped into a little filigree box on my toilet table. I opened the box and felt around for it. The box was empty--the cuff-link had disappeared! + + CHAPTER V + + GERTRUDE'S ENGAGEMENT + + At ten o'clock the Casanova hack brought up three men. They introduced themselves as the coroner of the county and two detectives from the city. The coroner led the way at once to the locked wing, and with the aid of one of the detectives examined the rooms and the body. The other detective, after a short scrutiny of the dead man, busied himself with the outside of the house. It was only after they had got a fair idea of things as they were that they sent for me. + + I received them in the living-room, and I had made up my mind exactly what to tell. I had taken the house for the summer, I said, while the Armstrongs were in California. In spite of a rumor among the servants about strange noises--I cited Thomas-- nothing had occurred the first two nights. On the third night I believed that some one had been in the house: I had heard a crashing sound, but being alone with one maid had not investigated. The house had been locked in the morning and apparently undisturbed. + + Then, as clearly as I could, I related how, the night before, a shot had roused us; that my niece and I had investigated and found a body; that I did not know who the murdered man was until Mr. Jarvis from the club informed me, and that I knew of no reason why Mr. Arnold Armstrong should steal into his father's house at night. I should have been glad to allow him entree there at any time. + + "Have you reason to believe, Miss Innes," the coroner asked, "that any member of your household, imagining Mr. Armstrong was a burglar, shot him in self-defense?" + + "I have no reason for thinking so," I said quietly. + + "Your theory is that Mr. Armstrong was followed here by some enemy, and shot as he entered the house?" + + "I don't think I have a theory," I said. "The thing that has puzzled me is why Mr. Armstrong should enter his father's house two nights in succession, stealing in like a thief, when he needed only to ask entrance to be admitted." + + The coroner was a very silent man: he took some notes after this, but he seemed anxious to make the next train back to town. He set the inquest for the following Saturday, gave Mr. Jamieson, the younger of the two detectives, and the more intelligent looking, a few instructions, and, after gravely shaking hands with me and regretting the unfortunate affair, took his departure, accompanied by the other detective. + + I was just beginning to breathe freely when Mr. Jamieson, who had been standing by the window, came over to me. + + "The family consists of yourself alone, Miss Innes?" + + "My niece is here," I said. + + "There is no one but yourself and your niece?" + + "My nephew." I had to moisten my lips. + + "Oh, a nephew. I should like to see him, if he is here." + + "He is not here just now," I said as quietly as I could. "I expect him--at any time." + + "He was here yesterday evening, I believe?" + + "No--yes." + + "Didn't he have a guest with him? Another man?" + + "He brought a friend with him to stay over Sunday, Mr. Bailey." + + "Mr. John Bailey, the cashier of the Traders' Bank I believe." And I knew that some one at the Greenwood Club had told. "When did they leave?" + + "Very early--I don't know at just what time." + + Mr. Jamieson turned suddenly and looked at me. + + "Please try to be more explicit," he said. "You say your nephew and Mr. Bailey were in the house last night, and yet you and your niece, with some women-servants, found the body. Where was your nephew?" + + I was entirely desperate by that time. + + "I do not know," I cried, "but be sure of this: Halsey knows nothing of this thing, and no amount of circumstantial evidence can make an innocent man guilty." + + "Sit down," he said, pushing forward a chair. "There are some things I have to tell you, and, in return, please tell me all you know. Believe me, things always come out. In the first place, Mr. Armstrong was shot from above. The bullet was fired at close range, entered below the shoulder and came out, after passing through the heart, well down the back. In other words, I believe the murderer stood on the stairs and fired down. In the second place, I found on the edge of the billiard-table a charred cigar which had burned itself partly out, and a cigarette which had consumed itself to the cork tip. Neither one had been more than lighted, then put down and forgotten. Have you any idea what it was that made your nephew and Mr. Bailey leave their cigars and their game, take out the automobile without calling the chauffeur, and all this at--let me see certainly before three o'clock in the morning?" + + "I don't know," I said; "but depend on it, Mr. Jamieson, Halsey will be back himself to explain everything." + + "I sincerely hope so," he said. "Miss Innes, has it occurred to you that Mr. Bailey might know something of this?" + + Gertrude had come down-stairs and just as he spoke she came in. I saw her stop suddenly, as if she had been struck. + + "He does not," she said in a tone that was not her own. "Mr. Bailey and my brother know nothing of this. The murder was committed at three. They left the house at a quarter before three." + + "How do you know that?" Mr. Jamieson asked oddly. "Do you KNOW at what time they left?" + + "I do," Gertrude answered firmly. "At a quarter before three my brother and Mr. Bailey left the house, by the main entrance. I-- was--there." + + "Gertrude," I said excitedly, "you are dreaming! Why, at a quarter to three--" + + "Listen," she said. "At half-past two the downstairs telephone rang. I had not gone to sleep, and I heard it. Then I heard Halsey answer it, and in a few minutes he came up-stairs and knocked at my door. We--we talked for a minute, then I put on my dressing-gown and slippers, and went down-stairs with him. Mr. Bailey was in the billiard-room. We--we all talked together for perhaps ten minutes. Then it was decided that--that they should both go away--" + + "Can't you be more explicit?" Mr. Jamieson asked. "WHY did they go away?" + + "I am only telling you what happened, not why it happened," she said evenly. "Halsey went for the car, and instead of bringing it to the house and rousing people, he went by the lower road from the stable. Mr. Bailey was to meet him at the foot of the lawn. Mr. Bailey left--" + + "Which way?" Mr. Jamieson asked sharply. + + "By the main entrance. He left--it was a quarter to three. I know exactly." + + "The clock in the hall is stopped, Miss Innes," said Jamieson. Nothing seemed to escape him. + + "He looked at his watch," she replied, and I could see Mr. Jamieson's snap, as if he had made a discovery. As for myself, during the whole recital I had been plunged into the deepest amazement. + + "Will you pardon me for a personal question?" The detective was a youngish man, and I thought he was somewhat embarrassed. "What are your--your relations with Mr. Bailey?" + + Gertrude hesitated. Then she came over and put her hand lovingly in mine. + + "I am engaged to marry him," she said simply. + + I had grown so accustomed to surprises that I could only gasp again, and as for Gertrude, the hand that lay in mine was burning with fever. + + "And--after that," Mr. Jamieson went on, "you went directly to bed?" + + Gertrude hesitated. + + "No," she said finally. "I--I am not nervous, and after I had extinguished the light, I remembered something I had left in the billiard-room, and I felt my way back there through the darkness." + + "Will you tell me what it was you had forgotten?" + + "I can not tell you," she said slowly. "I--I did not leave the billiard-room at once--" + + "Why?" The detective's tone was imperative. "This is very important, Miss Innes." + + "I was crying," Gertrude said in a low tone. "When the French clock in the drawing-room struck three, I got up, and then--I heard a step on the east porch, just outside the card-room. Some one with a key was working with the latch, and I thought, of course, of Halsey. When we took the house he called that his entrance, and he had carried a key for it ever since. The door opened and I was about to ask what he had forgotten, when there was a flash and a report. Some heavy body dropped, and, half crazed with terror and shock, I ran through the drawing-room and got up-stairs--I scarcely remember how." + + She dropped into a chair, and I thought Mr. Jamieson must have finished. But he was not through. + + "You certainly clear your brother and Mr. Bailey admirably," he said. "The testimony is invaluable, especially in view of the fact that your brother and Mr. Armstrong had, I believe, quarreled rather seriously some time ago." + + "Nonsense," I broke in. "Things are bad enough, Mr. Jamieson, without inventing bad feeling where it doesn't exist. Gertrude, I don't think Halsey knew the--the murdered man, did he?" + + But Mr. Jamieson was sure of his ground. + + "The quarrel, I believe," he persisted, "was about Mr. Armstrong's conduct to you, Miss Gertrude. He had been paying you unwelcome attentions." + + And I had never seen the man! + + When she nodded a "yes" I saw the tremendous possibilities involved. If this detective could prove that Gertrude feared and disliked the murdered man, and that Mr. Armstrong had been annoying and possibly pursuing her with hateful attentions, all that, added to Gertrude's confession of her presence in the billiard-room at the time of the crime, looked strange, to say the least. The prominence of the family assured a strenuous effort to find the murderer, and if we had nothing worse to look forward to, we were sure of a distasteful publicity. + + Mr. Jamieson shut his note-book with a snap, and thanked us. + + "I have an idea," he said, apropos of nothing at all, "that at any rate the ghost is laid here. Whatever the rappings have been--and the colored man says they began when the family went west three months ago--they are likely to stop now." + + Which shows how much he knew about it. The ghost was not laid: with the murder of Arnold Armstrong he, or it, only seemed to take on fresh vigor. + + Mr. Jamieson left then, and when Gertrude had gone up-stairs, as she did at once, I sat and thought over what I had just heard. Her engagement, once so engrossing a matter, paled now beside the significance of her story. If Halsey and Jack Bailey had left before the crime, how came Halsey's revolver in the tulip bed? What was the mysterious cause of their sudden flight? What had Gertrude left in the billiard-room? What was the significance of the cuff-link, and where was it? + + CHAPTER VI + + IN THE EAST CORRIDOR + + When the detective left he enjoined absolute secrecy on everybody in the household. The Greenwood Club promised the same thing, and as there are no Sunday afternoon papers, the murder was not publicly known until Monday. The coroner himself notified the Armstrong family lawyer, and early in the afternoon he came out. I had not seen Mr. Jamieson since morning, but I knew he had been interrogating the servants. Gertrude was locked in her room with a headache, and I had luncheon alone. + + Mr. Harton, the lawyer, was a little, thin man, and he looked as if he did not relish his business that day. + + "This is very unfortunate, Miss Innes," he said, after we had shaken hands. "Most unfortunate--and mysterious. With the father and mother in the west, I find everything devolves on me; and, as you can understand, it is an unpleasant duty." + + "No doubt," I said absently. "Mr. Harton, I am going to ask you some questions, and I hope you will answer them. I feel that I am entitled to some knowledge, because I and my family are just now in a most ambiguous position." + + I don't know whether he understood me or not: he took of his glasses and wiped them. + + "I shall be very happy," he said with old-fashioned courtesy. + + "Thank you. Mr. Harton, did Mr. Arnold Armstrong know that Sunnyside had been rented?" + + "I think--yes, he did. In fact, I myself told him about it." + + "And he knew who the tenants were?" + + "Yes." + + "He had not been living with the family for some years, I believe?" + + "No. Unfortunately, there had been trouble between Arnold and his father. For two years he had lived in town." + + "Then it would be unlikely that he came here last night to get possession of anything belonging to him?" + + "I should think it hardly possible," he admitted. + + "To be perfectly frank, Miss Innes, I can not think of any reason whatever for his coming here as he did. He had been staying at the club-house across the valley for the last week, Jarvis tells me, but that only explains how he came here, not why. It is a most unfortunate family." + + He shook his head despondently, and I felt that this dried-up little man was the repository of much that he had not told me. I gave up trying to elicit any information from him, and we went together to view the body before it was taken to the city. It had been lifted on to the billiard-table and a sheet thrown over it; otherwise nothing had been touched. A soft hat lay beside it, and the collar of the dinner-coat was still turned up. The handsome, dissipated face of Arnold Armstrong, purged of its ugly lines, was now only pathetic. As we went in Mrs. Watson appeared at the card-room door. + + "Come in, Mrs. Watson," the lawyer said. But she shook her head and withdrew: she was the only one in the house who seemed to regret the dead man, and even she seemed rather shocked than sorry. + + I went to the door at the foot of the circular staircase and opened it. If I could only have seen Halsey coming at his usual hare-brained clip up the drive, if I could have heard the throb of the motor, I would have felt that my troubles were over. + + But there was nothing to be seen. The countryside lay sunny and quiet in its peaceful Sunday afternoon calm, and far down the drive Mr. Jamieson was walking slowly, stooping now and then, as if to examine the road. When I went back, Mr. Harton was furtively wiping his eyes. + + "The prodigal has come home, Miss Innes," he said. "How often the sins of the fathers are visited on the children!" Which left me pondering. + + Before Mr. Harton left, he told me something of the Armstrong family. Paul Armstrong, the father, had been married twice. Arnold was a son by the first marriage. The second Mrs. Armstrong had been a widow, with a child, a little girl. This child, now perhaps twenty, was Louise Armstrong, having taken her stepfather's name, and was at present in California with the family. + + "They will probably return at once," he concluded "sad part of my errand here to-day is to see if you will relinquish your lease here in their favor." + + "We would better wait and see if they wish to come," I said. "It seems unlikely, and my town house is being remodeled." At that he let the matter drop, but it came up unpleasantly enough, later. + + At six o'clock the body was taken away, and at seven-thirty, after an early dinner, Mr. Harton went. Gertrude had not come down, and there was no news of Halsey. Mr. Jamieson had taken a lodging in the village, and I had not seen him since mid- afternoon. It was about nine o'clock, I think, when the bell rang and he was ushered into the living-room. + + "Sit down," I said grimly. "Have you found a clue that will incriminate me, Mr. Jamieson?" + + He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "No," he said. "If you had killed Mr. Armstrong, you would have left no clues. You would have had too much intelligence." + + After that we got along better. He was fishing in his pocket, and after a minute he brought out two scraps of paper. "I have been to the club-house," he said, "and among Mr. Armstrong's effects, I found these. One is curious; the other is puzzling." + + The first was a sheet of club note-paper, on which was written, over and over, the name "Halsey B. Innes." It was Halsey's flowing signature to a dot, but it lacked Halsey's ease. The ones toward the bottom of the sheet were much better than the top ones. Mr. Jamieson smiled at my face. + + "His old tricks," he said. "That one is merely curious; this one, as I said before, is puzzling." + + The second scrap, folded and refolded into a compass so tiny that the writing had been partly obliterated, was part of a letter-- the lower half of a sheet, not typed, but written in a cramped hand. + + "----by altering the plans for----rooms, may be possible. The best way, in my opinion, would be to----the plan for----in one of the----rooms----chimney." + + That was all. + + "Well?" I said, looking up. "There is nothing in that, is there? A man ought to be able to change the plan of his house without becoming an object of suspicion." + + "There is little in the paper itself," he admitted; "but why should Arnold Armstrong carry that around, unless it meant something? He never built a house, you may be sure of that. If it is this house, it may mean anything, from a secret room--" + + "To an extra bath-room," I said scornfully. "Haven't you a thumb-print, too?" + + "I have," he said with a smile, "and the print of a foot in a tulip bed, and a number of other things. The oddest part is, Miss Innes, that the thumb-mark is probably yours and the footprint certainly." + + His audacity was the only thing that saved me: his amused smile put me on my mettle, and I ripped out a perfectly good scallop before I answered. + + "Why did I step into the tulip bed?" I asked with interest. + + "You picked up something," he said good-humoredly, "which you are going to tell me about later." + + "Am I, indeed?" I was politely curious. "With this remarkable insight of yours, I wish you would tell me where I shall find my four-thousand-dollar motor car." + + "I was just coming to that," he said. "You will find it about thirty miles away, at Andrews Station, in a blacksmith shop, where it is being repaired." + + I laid down my knitting then and looked at him. + + "And Halsey?" I managed to say. + + "We are going to exchange information," he said "I am going to tell you that, when you tell me what you picked up in the tulip bed." + + We looked steadily at each other: it was not an unfriendly stare; we were only measuring weapons. Then he smiled a little and got up. + + "With your permission," he said, "I am going to examine the card- room and the staircase again. You might think over my offer in the meantime." + + He went on through the drawing-room, and I listened to his footsteps growing gradually fainter. I dropped my pretense at knitting and, leaning back, I thought over the last forty-eight hours. Here was I, Rachel Innes, spinster, a granddaughter of old John Innes of Revolutionary days, a D. A. R., a Colonial Dame, mixed up with a vulgar and revolting crime, and even attempting to hoodwink the law! Certainly I had left the straight and narrow way. + + I was roused by hearing Mr. Jamieson coming rapidly back through the drawing-room. He stopped at the door. + + "Miss Innes," he said quickly, "will you come with me and light the east corridor? I have fastened somebody in the small room at the head of the card-room stairs." + + I jumped! up at once. + + "You mean--the murderer?" I gasped. + + "Possibly," he said quietly, as we hurried together up the stairs. "Some one was lurking on the staircase when I went back. I spoke; instead of an answer, whoever it was turned and ran up. I followed--it was dark--but as I turned the corner at the top a figure darted through this door and closed it. The bolt was on my side, and I pushed it forward. It is a closet, I think." We were in the upper hall now. "If you will show me the electric switch, Miss Innes, you would better wait in your own room." + + Trembling as I was, I was determined to see that door opened. I hardly knew what I feared, but so many terrible and inexplicable things had happened that suspense was worse than certainty. + + "I am perfectly cool," I said, "and I am going to remain here." + + The lights flashed up along that end of the corridor, throwing the doors into relief. At the intersection of the small hallway with the larger, the circular staircase wound its way up, as if it had been an afterthought of the architect. And just around the corner, in the small corridor, was the door Mr. Jamieson had indicated. I was still unfamiliar with the house, and I did not remember the door. My heart was thumping wildly in my ears, but I nodded to him to go ahead. I was perhaps eight or ten feet away--and then he threw the bolt back. + + "Come out," he said quietly. There was no response. "Come-- out," he repeated. Then--I think he had a revolver, but I am not sure--he stepped aside and threw the door open. + + From where I stood I could not see beyond the door, but I saw Mr. Jamieson's face change and heard him mutter something, then he bolted down the stairs, three at a time. When my knees had stopped shaking, I moved forward, slowly, nervously, until I had a partial view of what was beyond the door. It seemed at first to be a closet, empty. Then I went close and examined it, to stop with a shudder. Where the floor should have been was black void and darkness, from which came the indescribable, damp smell of the cellars. + + Mr. Jamieson had locked somebody in the clothes chute. As I leaned over I fancied I heard a groan--or was it the wind? + + CHAPTER VII + + A SPRAINED ANKLE + + I was panic-stricken. As I ran along the corridor I was confident that the mysterious intruder and probable murderer had been found, and that he lay dead or dying at the foot of the chute. I got down the staircase somehow, and through the kitchen to the basement stairs. Mr. Jamieson had been before me, and the door stood open. Liddy was standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a frying-pan by the handle as a weapon. + + "Don't go down there," she yelled, when she saw me moving toward the basement stairs. "Don't you do it, Miss Rachel. That Jamieson's down there now. There's only trouble comes of hunting ghosts; they lead you into bottomless pits and things like that. Oh, Miss Rachel, don't--" as I tried to get past her. + + She was interrupted by Mr. Jamieson's reappearance. He ran up the stairs two at a time, and his face was flushed and furious. + + "The whole place is locked," he said angrily. "Where's the laundry key kept?" + + "It's kept in the door," Liddy snapped. "That whole end of the cellar is kept locked, so nobody can get at the clothes, and then the key's left in the door? so that unless a thief was as blind as--as some detectives, he could walk right in." + + "Liddy," I said sharply, "come down with us and turn on all the lights." + + She offered her resignation, as usual, on the spot, but I took her by the arm, and she came along finally. She switched on all the lights and pointed to a door just ahead. + + "That's the door," she said sulkily. "The key's in it." + + But the key was not in it. Mr. Jamieson shook it, but it was a heavy door, well locked. And then he stooped and began punching around the keyhole with the end of a lead-pencil. When he stood up his face was exultant. + + "It's locked on the inside," he said in a low tone. "There is somebody in there." + + "Lord have mercy!" gasped Liddy, and turned to run. + + "Liddy," I called, "go through the house at once and see who is missing, or if any one is. We'll have to clear this thing at once. Mr. Jamieson, if you will watch here I will go to the lodge and find Warner. Thomas would be of no use. Together you may be able to force the door." + + "A good idea," he assented. "But--there are windows, of course, and there is nothing to prevent whoever is in there from getting out that way." + + "Then lock the door at the top of the basement stairs," I suggested, "and patrol the house from the outside." + + We agreed to this, and I had a feeling that the mystery of Sunnyside was about to be solved. I ran down the steps and along the drive. Just at the corner I ran full tilt into somebody who seemed to be as much alarmed as I was. It was not until I had recoiled a step or two that I recognized Gertrude, and she me. + + "Good gracious, Aunt Ray," she exclaimed, "what is the matter?" + + "There's somebody locked in the laundry," I panted. "That is-- unless--you didn't see any one crossing the lawn or skulking around the house, did you?" + + "I think we have mystery on the brain," Gertrude said wearily. "No, I haven't seen any one, except old Thomas, who looked for all the world as if he had been ransacking the pantry. What have you locked in the laundry?" + + "I can't wait to explain," I replied. "I must get Warner from the lodge. If you came out for air, you'd better put on your overshoes." And then I noticed that Gertrude was limping--not much, but sufficiently to make her progress very slow, and seemingly painful. + + "You have hurt yourself," I said sharply. + + "I fell over the carriage block," she explained. "I thought perhaps I might see Halsey coming home. He--he ought to be here." + + I hurried on down the drive. The lodge was some distance from the house, in a grove of trees where the drive met the county road. There were two white stone pillars to mark the entrance, but the iron gates, once closed and tended by the lodge-keeper, now stood permanently open. The day of the motor-car had come; no one had time for closed gates and lodge-keepers. The lodge at Sunnyside was merely a sort of supplementary servants' quarters: it was as convenient in its appointments as the big house and infinitely more cozy. + + As I went down the drive, my thoughts were busy. Who would it be that Mr. Jamieson had trapped in the cellar? Would we find a body or some one badly injured? Scarcely either. Whoever had fallen had been able to lock the laundry door on the inside. If the fugitive had come from outside the house, how did he get in? If it was some member of the household, who could it have been? And then--a feeling of horror almost overwhelmed me. Gertrude! Gertrude and her injured ankle! Gertrude found limping slowly up the drive when I had thought she was in bed! + + I tried to put the thought away, but it would not go. If Gertrude had been on the circular staircase that night, why had she fled from Mr. Jamieson? The idea, puzzling as it was, seemed borne out by this circumstance. Whoever had taken refuge at the head of the stairs could scarcely have been familiar with the house, or with the location of the chute. The mystery seemed to deepen constantly. What possible connection could there be between Halsey and Gertrude, and the murder of Arnold Armstrong? And yet, every way I turned I seemed to find something that pointed to such a connection. + + At the foot of the drive the road described a long, sloping, horseshoe-shaped curve around the lodge. There were lights there, streaming cheerfully out on to the trees, and from an upper room came wavering shadows, as if some one with a lamp was moving around. I had come almost silently in my evening slippers, and I had my second collision of the evening on the road just above the house. I ran full into a man in a long coat, who was standing in the shadow beside the drive, with his back to me, watching the lighted windows. + + "What the hell!" he ejaculated furiously, and turned around. When he saw me, however, he did not wait for any retort on my part. He faded away--this is not slang; he did--he absolutely disappeared in the dusk without my getting more than a glimpse of his face. I had a vague impression of unfamiliar features and of a sort of cap with a visor. Then he was gone. + + I went to the lodge and rapped. It required two or three poundings to bring Thomas to the door, and he opened it only an inch or so. + + "Where is Warner?" I asked. + + "I--I think he's in bed, ma'm." + + "Get him up," I said, "and for goodness' sake open the door, Thomas. I'll wait for Warner." + + "It's kind o' close in here, ma'm," he said, obeying gingerly, and disclosing a cool and comfortable looking interior. "Perhaps you'd keer to set on the porch an' rest yo'self." + + It was so evident that Thomas did not want me inside that I went in. + + "Tell Warner he is needed in a hurry," I repeated, and turned into the little sitting-room. I could hear Thomas going up the stairs, could hear him rouse Warner, and the steps of the chauffeur as he hurriedly dressed. But my attention was busy with the room below. + + On the center-table, open, was a sealskin traveling bag. It was filled with gold-topped bottles and brushes, and it breathed opulence, luxury, femininity from every inch of surface. How did it get there? I was still asking myself the question when Warner came running down the stairs and into the room. He was completely but somewhat incongruously dressed, and his open, boyish face looked abashed. He was a country boy, absolutely frank and reliable, of fair education and intelligence--one of the small army of American youths who turn a natural aptitude for mechanics into the special field of the automobile, and earn good salaries in a congenial occupation. + + "What is it, Miss Innes?" he asked anxiously. + + "There is some one locked in the laundry," I replied. "Mr. Jamieson wants you to help him break the lock. Warner, whose bag is this?" + + He was in the doorway by this time, and he pretended not to hear. + + "Warner," I called, "come back here. Whose bag is this?" + + He stopped then, but he did not turn around. + + "It's--it belongs to Thomas," he said, and fled up the drive. + + To Thomas! A London bag with mirrors and cosmetic jars of which Thomas could not even have guessed the use! However, I put the bag in the back of my mind, which was fast becoming stored with anomalous and apparently irreconcilable facts, and followed Warner to the house. + + Liddy had come back to the kitchen: the door to the basement stairs was double-barred, and had a table pushed against it; and beside her on the table was most of the kitchen paraphernalia. + + "Did you see if there was any one missing in the house?" I asked, ignoring the array of sauce-pans rolling-pins, and the poker of the range. + + "Rosie is missing," Liddy said with unction. She had objected to Rosie, the parlor maid, from the start. "Mrs. Watson went into her room, and found she had gone without her hat. People that trust themselves a dozen miles from the city, in strange houses, with servants they don't know, needn't be surprised if they wake up some morning and find their throats cut." + + After which carefully veiled sarcasm Liddy relapsed into gloom. Warner came in then with a handful of small tools, and Mr. Jamieson went with him to the basement. Oddly enough, I was not alarmed. With all my heart I wished for Halsey, but I was not frightened. At the door he was to force, Warner put down his tools and looked at it. Then he turned the handle. Without the slightest difficulty the door opened, revealing the blackness of the drying-room beyond! + + Mr. Jamieson gave an exclamation of disgust. + + "Gone!" he said. "Confound such careless work! I might have known." + + It was true enough. We got the lights on finally and looked all through the three rooms that constituted this wing of the basement. Everything was quiet and empty. An explanation of how the fugitive had escaped injury was found in a heaped-up basket of clothes under the chute. The basket had been overturned, but that was all. Mr. Jamieson examined the windows: one was unlocked, and offered an easy escape. The window or the door? Which way had the fugitive escaped? The door seemed most probable, and I hoped it had been so. I could not have borne, just then, to think that it was my poor Gertrude we had been hounding through the darkness, and yet--I had met Gertrude not far from that very window. + + I went up-stairs at last, tired and depressed. Mrs. Watson and Liddy were making tea in the kitchen. In certain walks of life the tea-pot is the refuge in times of stress, trouble or sickness: they give tea to the dying and they put it in the baby's nursing bottle. Mrs. Watson was fixing a tray to be sent in to me, and when I asked her about Rosie she confirmed her absence. + + "She's not here," she said; "but I would not think much of that, Miss Innes. Rosie is a pretty young girl, and perhaps she has a sweetheart. It will be a good thing if she has. The maids stay much better when they have something like that to hold them here." + + Gertrude had gone back to her room, and while I was drinking my cup of hot tea, Mr. Jamieson came in. + + "We might take up the conversation where we left off an hour and a half ago," he said. "But before we go on, I want to say this: The person who escaped from the laundry was a woman with a foot of moderate size and well arched. She wore nothing but a stocking on her right foot, and, in spite of the unlocked door, she escaped by the window." + + And again I thought of Gertrude's sprained ankle. Was it the right or the left? + + CHAPTER VIII + + THE OTHER HALF OF THE LINE + + "Miss Innes," the detective began, "what is your opinion of the figure you saw on the east veranda the night you and your maid were in the house alone?" + + "It was a woman," I said positively. + + "And yet your maid affirms with equal positiveness that it was a man." + + "Nonsense," I broke in. "Liddy had her eyes shut--she always shuts them when she's frightened." + + "And you never thought then that the intruder who came later that night might be a woman--the woman, in fact, whom you saw on the veranda?" + + "I had reasons for thinking it was a man," I said remembering the pearl cuff-link. + + "Now we are getting down to business. WHAT were your reasons for thinking that?" + + I hesitated. + + "If you have any reason for believing that your midnight guest was Mr. Armstrong, other than his visit here the next night, you ought to tell me, Miss Innes. We can take nothing for granted. If, for instance, the intruder who dropped the bar and scratched the staircase--you see, I know about that--if this visitor was a woman, why should not the same woman have come back the following night, met Mr. Armstrong on the circular staircase, and in alarm shot him?" + + "It was a man," I reiterated. And then, because I could think of no other reason for my statement, I told him about the pearl cuff-link. He was intensely interested. + + "Will you give me the link," he said, when I finished, "or, at least, let me see it? I consider it a most important clue." + + "Won't the description do?" + + "Not as well as the original." + + "Well, I'm very sorry," I said, as calmly as I could, "I--the thing is lost. It--it must have fallen out of a box on my dressing-table." + + Whatever he thought of my explanation, and I knew he doubted it, he made no sign. He asked me to describe the link accurately, and I did so, while he glanced at a list he took from his pocket. + + "One set monogram cuff-links," he read, "one set plain pearl links, one set cuff-links, woman's head set with diamonds and emeralds. There is no mention of such a link as you describe, and yet, if your theory is right, Mr. Armstrong must have taken back in his cuffs one complete cuff-link, and a half, perhaps, of the other." + + The idea was new to me. If it had not been the murdered man who had entered the house that night, who had it been? + + "There are a number of strange things connected with this case," the detective went on. "Miss Gertrude Innes testified that she heard some one fumbling with the lock, that the door opened, and that almost immediately the shot was fired. Now, Miss Innes, here is the strange part of that. Mr. Armstrong had no key with him. There was no key in the lock, or on the floor. In other words, the evidence points absolutely to this: Mr. Armstrong was admitted to the house from within." + + "It is impossible," I broke in. "Mr. Jamieson, do you know what your words imply? Do you know that you are practically accusing Gertrude Innes of admitting that man?" + + "Not quite that," he said, with his friendly smile. "In fact, Miss Innes, I am quite certain she did not. But as long as I learn only parts of the truth, from both you and her, what can I do? I know you picked up something in the flower bed: you refuse to tell me what it was. I know Miss Gertrude went back to the billiard-room to get something, she refuses to say what. You suspect what happened to the cuff-link, but you won't tell me. So far, all I am sure of is this: I do not believe Arnold Armstrong was the midnight visitor who so alarmed you by dropping--shall we say, a golf-stick? And I believe that when he did come he was admitted by some one in the house. Who knows--it may have been--Liddy!" + + I stirred my tea angrily. + + "I have always heard," I said dryly, "that undertakers' assistants are jovial young men. A man's sense of humor seems to be in inverse proportion to the gravity of his profession." + + "A man's sense of humor is a barbarous and a cruel thing, Miss Innes," he admitted. "It is to the feminine as the hug of a bear is to the scratch of--well;--anything with claws. Is that you, Thomas? Come in." + + Thomas Johnson stood in the doorway. He looked alarmed and apprehensive, and suddenly I remembered the sealskin dressing-bag in the lodge. Thomas came just inside the door and stood with his head drooping, his eyes, under their shaggy gray brows, fixed on Mr. Jamieson. + + "Thomas," said the detective, not unkindly, "I sent for you to tell us what you told Sam Bohannon at the club, the day before Mr. Arnold was found here, dead. Let me see. You came here Friday night to see Miss Innes, didn't you? And came to work here Saturday morning?" + + For some unexplained reason Thomas looked relieved. + + "Yas, sah," he said. "You see it were like this: When Mistah Armstrong and the fam'ly went away, Mis' Watson an' me, we was lef' in charge till the place was rented. Mis' Watson, she've bin here a good while, an' she warn' skeery. So she slep' in the house. I'd bin havin' tokens--I tol' Mis' Innes some of 'em--an' I slep' in the lodge. Then one day Mis' Watson, she came to me an' she sez, sez she, 'Thomas, you'll hev to sleep up in the big house. I'm too nervous to do it any more.' But I jes' reckon to myself that ef it's too skeery fer her, it's too skeery fer me. We had it, then, sho' nuff, and it ended up with Mis' Watson stayin' in the lodge nights an' me lookin' fer work at de club." + + "Did Mrs. Watson say that anything had happened to alarm her?" + + "No, sah. She was jes' natchally skeered. Well, that was all, far's I know, until the night I come over to see Mis' Innes. I come across the valley, along the path from the club-house, and I goes home that way. Down in the creek bottom I almost run into a man. He wuz standin' with his back to me, an' he was workin' with one of these yere electric light things that fit in yer pocket. He was havin' trouble--one minute it'd flash out, an' the nex' it'd be gone. I hed a view of 'is white dress shirt an' tie, as I passed. I didn't see his face. But I know it warn't Mr. Arnold. It was a taller man than Mr. Arnold. Beside that, Mr. Arnold was playin' cards when I got to the club-house, same's he'd been doin' all day." + + "And the next morning you came back along the path," pursued Mr. Jamieson relentlessly. + + "The nex' mornin' I come back along the path an' down where I dun see the man night befoh, I picked up this here." The old man held out a tiny object and Mr. Jamieson took it. Then he held it on his extended palm for me to see. It was the other half of the pearl cuff-link! + + But Mr. Jamieson was not quite through questioning him. + + "And so you showed it to Sam, at the club, and asked him if he knew any one who owned such a link, and Sam said--what?" + + "Wal, Sam, he 'lowed he'd seen such a pair of cuff-buttons in a shirt belongin' to Mr. Bailey--Mr. Jack Bailey, sah." + + "I'll keep this link, Thomas, for a while," the detective said. "That's all I wanted to know. Good night." + + As Thomas shuffled out, Mr. Jamieson watched me sharply. + + "You see, Miss Innes," he said, "Mr. Bailey insists on mixing himself with this thing. If Mr. Bailey came here that Friday night expecting to meet Arnold Armstrong, and missed him--if, as I say, he had done this, might he not, seeing him enter the following night, have struck him down, as he had intended before?" + + "But the motive?" I gasped. + + "There could be motive proved, I think. Arnold Armstrong and John Bailey have been enemies since the latter, as cashier of the Traders' Bank, brought Arnold almost into the clutches of the law. Also, you forget that both men have been paying attention to Miss Gertrude. Bailey's flight looks bad, too." + + "And you think Halsey helped him to escape?" + + "Undoubtedly. Why, what could it be but flight? Miss Innes, let me reconstruct that evening, as I see it. Bailey and Armstrong had quarreled at the club. I learned this to-day. Your nephew brought Bailey over. Prompted by jealous, insane fury, Armstrong followed, coming across by the path. He entered the billiard- room wing--perhaps rapping, and being admitted by your nephew. Just inside he was shot, by some one on the circular staircase. The shot fired, your nephew and Bailey left the house at once, going toward the automobile house. They left by the lower road, which prevented them being heard, and when you and Miss Gertrude got down-stairs everything was quiet." + + "But--Gertrude's story," I stammered. + + "Miss Gertrude only brought forward her explanation the following morning. I do not believe it, Miss Innes. It is the story of a loving and ingenious woman." + + "And--this thing to-night?" + + "May upset my whole view of the case. We must give the benefit of every doubt, after all. We may, for instance, come back to the figure on the porch: if it was a woman you saw that night through the window, we might start with other premises. Or Mr. Innes' explanation may turn us in a new direction. It is possible that he shot Arnold Armstrong as a burglar and then fled, frightened at what he had done. In any case, however, I feel confident that the body was here when he left. Mr. Armstrong left the club ostensibly for a moonlight saunter, about half after eleven o'clock. It was three when the shot was fired." + + I leaned back bewildered. It seemed to me that the evening had been full of significant happenings, had I only held the key. Had Gertrude been the fugitive in the clothes chute? Who was the man on the drive near the lodge, and whose gold-mounted dressing- bag had I seen in the lodge sitting-room? + + It was late when Mr. Jamieson finally got up to go. I went with him to the door, and together we stood looking out over the valley. Below lay the village of Casanova, with its Old World houses, its blossoming trees and its peace. Above on the hill across the valley were the lights of the Greenwood Club. It was even possible to see the curving row of parallel lights that marked the carriage road. Rumors that I had heard about the club came back--of drinking, of high play, and once, a year ago, of a suicide under those very lights. + + Mr. Jamieson left, taking a short cut to the village, and I still stood there. It must have been after eleven, and the monotonous tick of the big clock on the stairs behind me was the only sound. + + Then I was conscious that some one was running up the drive. In a minute a woman darted into the area of light made by the open door, and caught me by the arm. It was Rosie--Rosie in a state of collapse from terror, and, not the least important, clutching one of my Coalport plates and a silver spoon. + + She stood staring into the darkness behind, still holding the plate. I got her into the house and secured the plate; then I stood and looked down at her where she crouched tremblingly against the doorway. + + "Well," I asked, "didn't your young man enjoy his meal?" + + She couldn't speak. She looked at the spoon she still held--I wasn't so anxious about it: thank Heaven, it wouldn't chip--and then she stared at me. + + "I appreciate your desire to have everything nice for him," I went on, "but the next time, you might take the Limoges china It's more easily duplicated and less expensive." + + "I haven't a young man--not here." She had got her breath now, as I had guessed she would. "I--I have been chased by a thief, Miss Innes." + + "Did he chase you out of the house and back again?" I asked. + + Then Rosie began to cry--not silently, but noisily, hysterically. + + I stopped her by giving her a good shake. + + "What in the world is the matter with you?" I snapped. "Has the day of good common sense gone by! Sit up and tell me the whole thing." Rosie sat up then, and sniffled. + + "I was coming up the drive--" she began. + + "You must start with when you went DOWN the drive, with my dishes and my silver," I interrupted, but, seeing more signs of hysteria, I gave in. "Very well. You were coming up the drive--" + + "I had a basket of--of silver and dishes on my arm and I was carrying the plate, because--because I was afraid I'd break it. Part-way up the road a man stepped out of the bushes, and held his arm like this, spread out, so I couldn't get past. He said-- he said--`Not so fast, young lady; I want you to let me see what's in that basket.'" + + She got up in her excitement and took hold of my arm. + + "It was like this, Miss Innes," she said, "and say you was the man. When he said that, I screamed and ducked under his arm like this. He caught at the basket and I dropped it. I ran as fast as I could, and he came after as far as the trees. Then he stopped. Oh, Miss Innes, it must have been the man that killed that Mr. Armstrong!" + + "Don't be foolish," I said. "Whoever killed Mr. Armstrong would put as much space between himself and this house as he could. Go up to bed now; and mind, if I hear of this story being repeated to the other maids, I shall deduct from your wages for every broken dish I find in the drive." + + I listened to Rosie as she went up-stairs, running past the shadowy places and slamming her door. Then I sat down and looked at the Coalport plate and the silver spoon. I had brought my own china and silver, and, from all appearances, I would have little enough to take back. But though I might jeer at Rosie as much as I wished, the fact remained that some one had been on the drive that night who had no business there. Although neither had Rosie, for that matter. + + I could fancy Liddy's face when she missed the extra pieces of china--she had opposed Rosie from the start. If Liddy once finds a prophecy fulfilled, especially an unpleasant one, she never allows me to forget it. It seemed to me that it was absurd to leave that china dotted along the road for her to spy the next morning; so with a sudden resolution, I opened the door again and stepped out into the darkness. As the door closed behind me I half regretted my impulse; then I shut my teeth and went on. + + I have never been a nervous woman, as I said before. Moreover, a minute or two in the darkness enabled me to see things fairly well. Beulah gave me rather a start by rubbing unexpectedly against my feet; then we two, side by side, went down the drive. + + There were no fragments of china, but where the grove began I picked up a silver spoon. So far Rosie's story was borne out: I began to wonder if it were not indiscreet, to say the least, this midnight prowling in a neighborhood with such a deservedly bad reputation. Then I saw something gleaming, which proved to be the handle of a cup, and a step or two farther on I found a V- shaped bit of a plate. But the most surprising thing of all was to find the basket sitting comfortably beside the road, with the rest of the broken crockery piled neatly within, and a handful of small silver, spoon, forks, and the like, on top! I could only stand and stare. Then Rosie's story was true. But where had Rosie carried her basket? And why had the thief, if he were a thief, picked up the broken china out of the road and left it, with his booty? + + It was with my nearest approach to a nervous collapse that I heard the familiar throbbing of an automobile engine. As it came closer I recognized the outline of the Dragon Fly, and knew that Halsey had come back. + + Strange enough it must have seemed to Halsey, too, to come across me in the middle of the night, with the skirt of my gray silk gown over my shoulders to keep off the dew, holding a red and green basket under one arm and a black cat under the other. What with relief and joy, I began to cry, right there, and very nearly wiped my eyes on Beulah in the excitement. + + CHAPTER IX + + JUST LIKE A GIRL + + "Aunt Ray!" Halsey said from the gloom behind the lamps. "What in the world are you doing here?" + + "Taking a walk," I said, trying to be composed. I don't think the answer struck either of us as being ridiculous at the time. "Oh, Halsey, where have you been?" + + "Let me take you up to the house." He was in the road, and had Beulah and the basket out of my arms in a moment. I could see the car plainly now, and Warner was at the wheel--Warner in an ulster and a pair of slippers, over Heaven knows what. Jack Bailey was not there. I got in, and we went slowly and painfully up to the house. + + We did not talk. What we had to say was too important to commence there, and, besides, it took all kinds of coaxing from both men to get the Dragon Fly up the last grade. Only when we had closed the front door and stood facing each other in the hall, did Halsey say anything. He slipped his strong young arm around my shoulders and turned me so I faced the light. + + "Poor Aunt Ray!" he said gently. And I nearly wept again. "I--I must see Gertrude, too; we will have a three-cornered talk." + + And then Gertrude herself came down the stairs. She had not been to bed, evidently: she still wore the white negligee she had worn earlier in the evening, and she limped somewhat. During her slow progress down the stairs I had time to notice one thing: Mr. Jamieson had said the woman who escaped from the cellar had worn no shoe on her right foot. Gertrude's right ankle was the one she had sprained! + + The meeting between brother and sister was tense, but without tears. Halsey kissed her tenderly, and I noticed evidences of strain and anxiety in both young faces. + + "Is everything--right?" she asked. + + "Right as can be," with forced cheerfulness. + + I lighted the living-room and we went in there. Only a half-hour before I had sat with Mr. Jamieson in that very room, listening while he overtly accused both Gertrude and Halsey of at least a knowledge of the death of Arnold Armstrong. Now Halsey was here to speak for himself: I should learn everything that had puzzled me. + + "I saw it in the paper to-night for the first time," he was saying. "It knocked me dumb. When I think of this houseful of women, and a thing like that occurring!" + + Gertrude's face was still set and white. "That isn't all, Halsey," she said. "You and--and Jack left almost at the time it happened. The detective here thinks that you--that we--know something about it." + + "The devil he does!" Halsey's eyes were fairly starting from his head. "I beg your pardon, Aunt Ray, but--the fellow's a lunatic." + + "Tell me everything, won't you, Halsey?" I begged. "Tell me where you went that night, or rather morning, and why you went as you did. This has been a terrible forty-eight hours for all of us." + + He stood staring at me, and I could see the horror of the situation dawning in his face. + + "I can't tell you where I went, Aunt Ray," he said, after a moment. "As to why, you will learn that soon enough. But Gertrude knows that Jack and I left the house before this thing-- this horrible murder--occurred." + + "Mr. Jamieson does not believe me," Gertrude said drearily. "Halsey, if the worst comes, if they should arrest you, you must--tell." + + "I shall tell nothing," he said with a new sternness in his voice. "Aunt Ray, it was necessary for Jack and me to leave that night. I can not tell you why--just yet. As to where we went, if I have to depend on that as an alibi, I shall not tell. The whole thing is an absurdity, a trumped-up charge that can not possibly be serious." + + "Has Mr. Bailey gone back to the city," I demanded, "or to the club?" + + "Neither," defiantly; "at the present moment I do not know where he is." + + "Halsey," I asked gravely, leaning forward, "have you the slightest suspicion who killed Arnold Armstrong? The police think he was admitted from within, and that he was shot down from above, by someone on the circular staircase." + + "I know nothing of it," he maintained; but I fancied I caught a sudden glance at Gertrude, a flash of something that died as it came. + + As quietly, as calmly as I could, I went over the whole story, from the night Liddy and I had been alone up to the strange experience of Rosie and her pursuer. The basket still stood on the table, a mute witness to this last mystifying occurrence. + + "There is something else," I said hesitatingly, at the last. "Halsey, I have never told this even to Gertrude, but the morning after the crime, I found, in a tulip bed, a revolver. It--it was yours, Halsey." + + For an appreciable moment Halsey stared at me. Then he turned to Gertrude. + + "My revolver, Trude!" he exclaimed. "Why, Jack took my revolver with him, didn't he?" + + "Oh, for Heaven's sake don't say that," I implored. "The detective thinks possibly Jack Bailey came back, and--and the thing happened then." + + "He didn't come back," Halsey said sternly. "Gertrude, when you brought down a revolver that night for Jack to take with him, what one did you bring? Mine?" + + Gertrude was defiant now. + + "No. Yours was loaded, and I was afraid of what Jack might do. I gave him one I have had for a year or two. It was empty." + + Halsey threw up both hands despairingly. + + "If that isn't like a girl!" he said. "Why didn't you do what I asked you to, Gertrude? You send Bailey off with an empty gun, and throw mine in a tulip bed, of all places on earth! Mine was a thirty-eight caliber. The inquest will show, of course, that the bullet that killed Armstrong was a thirty-eight. Then where shall I be?" + + "You forget," I broke in, "that I have the revolver, and that no one knows about it." + + But Gertrude had risen angrily. + + "I can not stand it; it is always with me," she cried. "Halsey, I did not throw your revolver into the tulip bed. I--think-- you--did it--yourself!" + + They stared at each other across the big library table, with young eyes all at once hard, suspicious. And then Gertrude held out both hands to him appealingly. + + "We must not," she said brokenly. "Just now, with so much at stake, it--is shameful. I know you are as ignorant as I am. Make me believe it, Halsey." + + Halsey soothed her as best he could, and the breach seemed healed. But long after I went to bed he sat down-stairs in the living-room alone, and I knew he was going over the case as he had learned it. Some things were clear to him that were dark to me. He knew, and Gertrude, too, why Jack Bailey and he had gone away that night, as they did. He knew where they had been for the last forty-eight hours, and why Jack Bailey had not returned with him. It seemed to me that without fuller confidence from both the children--they are always children to me--I should never be able to learn anything. + + As I was finally getting ready for bed, Halsey came up-stairs and knocked at my door. When I had got into a negligee--I used to say wrapper before Gertrude came back from school--I let him in. He stood in the doorway a moment, and then he went into agonies of silent mirth. I sat down on the side of the bed and waited in severe silence for him to stop, but he only seemed to grow worse. + + When he had recovered he took me by the elbow and pulled me in front of the mirror. + + "`How to be beautiful,'" he quoted. "`Advice to maids and matrons,' by Beatrice Fairfax!" And then I saw myself. I had neglected to remove my wrinkle eradicators, and I presume my appearance was odd. I believe that it is a woman's duty to care for her looks, but it is much like telling a necessary falsehood--one must not be found out. By the time I got them off Halsey was serious again, and I listened to his story. + + "Aunt Ray," he began, extinguishing his cigarette on the back of my ivory hair-brush, "I would give a lot to tell you the whole thing. But--I can't, for a day or so, anyhow. But one thing I might have told you a long time ago. If you had known it, you would not have suspected me for a moment of--of having anything to do with the attack on Arnold Armstrong. Goodness knows what I might do to a fellow like that, if there was enough provocation, and I had a gun in my hand--under ordinary circumstances. But--I care a great deal about Louise Armstrong, Aunt Ray. I hope to marry her some day. Is it likely I would kill her brother?" + + "Her stepbrother," I corrected. "No, of course, it isn't likely, or possible. Why didn't you tell me, Halsey?" + + "Well, there were two reasons," he said slowly. + + "One was that you had a girl already picked out for me--" + + "Nonsense," I broke in, and felt myself growing red. I had, indeed, one of the--but no matter. + + "And the second reason," he pursued, "was that the Armstrongs would have none of me." + + I sat bolt upright at that and gasped. + + "The Armstrongs!" I repeated. "With old Peter Armstrong driving a stage across the mountains while your grandfather was war governor--" + + "Well, of course, the war governor's dead, and out of the matrimonial market," Halsey interrupted. "And the present Innes admits himself he isn't good enough for--for Louise." + + "Exactly," I said despairingly, "and, of course, you are taken at your own valuation. The Inneses are not always so self- depreciatory." + + "Not always, no," he said, looking at me with his boyish smile. "Fortunately, Louise doesn't agree with her family. She's willing to take me, war governor or no, provided her mother consents. She isn't overly-fond of her stepfather, but she adores her mother. And now, can't you see where this thing puts me? Down and out, with all of them." + + "But the whole thing is absurd," I argued. "And besides, Gertrude's sworn statement that you left before Arnold Armstrong came would clear you at once." + + Halsey got up and began to pace the room, and the air of cheerfulness dropped like a mask. + + "She can't swear it," he said finally. "Gertrude's story was true as far as it went, but she didn't tell everything. Arnold Armstrong came here at two-thirty--came into the billiard-room and left in five minutes. He came to bring--something." + + "Halsey," I cried, "you MUST tell me the whole truth. Every time I see a way for you to escape you block it yourself with this wall of mystery. What did he bring?" + + "A telegram--for Bailey," he said. "It came by special messenger from town, and was--most important. Bailey had started for here, and the messenger had gone back to the city. The steward gave it to Arnold, who had been drinking all day and couldn't sleep, and was going for a stroll in the direction of Sunnyside." + + "And he brought it?" + + "Yes." + + "What was in the telegram?" + + "I can tell you--as soon as certain things are made public. It is only a matter of days now," gloomily. + + "And Gertrude's story of a telephone message?" + + "Poor Trude!" he half whispered. "Poor loyal little girl! Aunt Ray, there was no such message. No doubt your detective already knows that and discredits all Gertrude told him." + + "And when she went back, it was to get--the telegram?" + + "Probably," Halsey said slowly. "When you get to thinking about it, Aunt Ray, it looks bad for all three of us, doesn't it? And yet--I will take my oath none of us even inadvertently killed that poor devil." + + I looked at the closed door into Gertrude's dressing-room, and lowered my voice. + + "The same horrible thought keeps recurring to me," I whispered. "Halsey, Gertrude probably had your revolver: she must have examined it, anyhow, that night. After you--and Jack had gone, what if that ruffian came back, and she--and she--" + + I couldn't finish. Halsey stood looking at me with shut lips. + + "She might have heard him fumbling at the door he had no key, the police say--and thinking it was you, or Jack, she admitted him. When she saw her mistake she ran up the stairs, a step or two, and turning, like an animal at bay, she fired." + + Halsey had his hand over my lips before I finished, and in that position we stared each at the other, our stricken glances crossing. + + "The revolver--my revolver--thrown into the tulip bed!" he muttered to himself. "Thrown perhaps from an upper window: you say it was buried deep. Her prostration ever since, her--Aunt Ray, you don't think it was Gertrude who fell down the clothes chute?" + + I could only nod my head in a hopeless affirmative. + + CHAPTER X + + THE TRADERS BANK + + The morning after Halsey's return was Tuesday. Arnold Armstrong had been found dead at the foot of the circular staircase at three o'clock on Sunday morning. The funeral services were to be held on Tuesday, and the interment of the body was to be deferred until the Armstrongs arrived from California. No one, I think, was very sorry that Arnold Armstrong was dead, but the manner of his death aroused some sympathy and an enormous amount of curiosity. Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh, a cousin, took charge of the arrangements, and everything, I believe, was as quiet as possible. I gave Thomas Johnson and Mrs. Watson permission to go into town to pay their last respects to the dead man, but for some reason they did not care to go. + + Halsey spent part of the day with Mr. Jamieson, but he said nothing of what happened. He looked grave and anxious, and he had a long conversation with Gertrude late in the afternoon. + + Tuesday evening found us quiet, with the quiet that precedes an explosion. Gertrude and Halsey were both gloomy and distraught, and as Liddy had already discovered that some of the china was broken--it is impossible to have any secrets from an old servant--I was not in a pleasant humor myself. Warner brought up the afternoon mail and the evening papers at seven--I was curious to know what the papers said of the murder. We had turned away at least a dozen reporters. But I read over the head-line that ran half-way across the top of the Gazette twice before I comprehended it. Halsey had opened the Chronicle and was staring at it fixedly. + + "The Traders' Bank closes its doors!" was what I read, and then I put down the paper and looked across the table. + + "Did you know of this?" I asked Halsey. + + "I expected it. But not so soon," he replied. + + "And you?" to Gertrude. + + "Jack--told us--something," Gertrude said faintly. "Oh, Halsey, what can he do now?" + + "Jack!" I said scornfully. "Your Jack's flight is easy enough to explain now. And you helped him, both of you, to get away! You get that from your mother; it isn't an Innes trait. Do you know that every dollar you have, both of you, is in that bank?" + + Gertrude tried to speak, but Halsey stopped her. + + "That isn't all, Gertrude," he said quietly; "Jack is--under arrest." + + "Under arrest!" Gertrude screamed, and tore the paper out of his hand. She glanced at the heading, then she crumpled the newspaper into a ball and flung it to the floor. While Halsey, looking stricken and white, was trying to smooth it out and read it, Gertrude had dropped her head on the table and was sobbing stormily. + + I have the clipping somewhere, but just now I can remember only the essentials. + + On the afternoon before, Monday, while the Traders' Bank was in the rush of closing hour, between two and three, Mr. Jacob Trautman, President of the Pearl Brewing Company, came into the bank to lift a loan. As security for the loan he had deposited some three hundred International Steamship Company 5's, in total value three hundred thousand dollars. Mr. Trautman went to the loan clerk and, after certain formalities had been gone through, the loan clerk went to the vault. Mr. Trautman, who was a large and genial German, waited for a time, whistling under his breath. The loan clerk did not come back. After an interval, Mr. Trautman saw the loan clerk emerge from the vault and go to the assistant cashier: the two went hurriedly to the vault. A lapse of another ten minutes, and the assistant cashier came out and approached Mr. Trautman. He was noticeably white and trembling. Mr. Trautman was told that through an oversight the bonds had been misplaced, and was asked to return the following morning, when everything would be made all right. + + Mr. Trautman, however, was a shrewd business man, and he did not like the appearance of things. He left the bank apparently satisfied, and within thirty minutes he had called up three different members of the Traders' Board of Directors. At three- thirty there was a hastily convened board meeting, with some stormy scenes, and late in the afternoon a national bank examiner was in possession of the books. The bank had not opened for business on Tuesday. + + At twelve-thirty o'clock the Saturday before, as soon as the business of the day was closed, Mr. John Bailey, the cashier of the defunct bank, had taken his hat and departed. During the afternoon he had called up Mr. Aronson, a member of the board, and said he was ill, and might not be at the bank for a day or two. As Bailey was highly thought of, Mr. Aronson merely expressed a regret. From that time until Monday night, when Mr. Bailey had surrendered to the police, little was known of his movements. Some time after one on Saturday he had entered the Western Union office at Cherry and White Streets and had sent two telegrams. He was at the Greenwood Country Club on Saturday night, and appeared unlike himself. It was reported that he would be released under enormous bond, some time that day, Tuesday. + + The article closed by saying that while the officers of the bank refused to talk until the examiner had finished his work, it was known that securities aggregating a million and a quarter were missing. Then there was a diatribe on the possibility of such an occurrence; on the folly of a one-man bank, and of a Board of Directors that met only to lunch together and to listen to a brief report from the cashier, and on the poor policy of a government that arranges a three or four-day examination twice a year. The mystery, it insinuated, had not been cleared by the arrest of the cashier. Before now minor officials had been used to cloak the misdeeds of men higher up. Inseparable as the words "speculation" and "peculation" have grown to be, John Bailey was not known to be in the stock market. His only words, after his surrender, had been "Send for Mr. Armstrong at once." The telegraph message which had finally reached the President of the Traders' Bank, in an interior town in California, had been responded to by a telegram from Doctor Walker, the young physician who was traveling with the Armstrong family, saying that Paul Armstrong was very ill and unable to travel. + + That was how things stood that Tuesday evening. The Traders' Bank had suspended payment, and John Bailey was under arrest, charged with wrecking it; Paul Armstrong lay very ill in California, and his only son had been murdered two days before. I sat dazed and bewildered. The children's money was gone: that was bad enough, though I had plenty, if they would let me share. But Gertrude's grief was beyond any power of mine to comfort; the man she had chosen stood accused of a colossal embezzlement--and even worse. For in the instant that I sat there I seemed to see the coils closing around John Bailey as the murderer of Arnold Armstrong. + + Gertrude lifted her head at last and stared across the table at Halsey. + + "Why did he do it?" she wailed. "Couldn't you stop him, Halsey? It was suicidal to go back!" + + Halsey was looking steadily through the windows of the breakfast- room, but it was evident he saw nothing. + + "It was the only thing he could do, Trude," he said at last. "Aunt Ray, when I found Jack at the Greenwood Club last Saturday night, he was frantic. I can not talk until Jack tells me I may, but--he is absolutely innocent of all this, believe me. I thought, Trude and I thought, we were helping him, but it was the wrong way. He came back. Isn't that the act of an innocent man?" + + "Then why did he leave at all?" I asked, unconvinced. "What innocent man would run away from here at three o'clock in the morning? Doesn't it look rather as though he thought it impossible to escape?" + + Gertrude rose angrily. "You are not even just!" she flamed. "You don't know anything about it, and you condemn him!" + + "I know that we have all lost a great deal of money," I said. "I shall believe Mr. Bailey innocent the moment he is shown to be. You profess to know the truth, but you can not tell me! What am I to think?" + + Halsey leaned over and patted my hand. + + "You must take us on faith," he said. "Jack Bailey hasn't a penny that doesn't belong to him; the guilty man will be known in a day or so." + + "I shall believe that when it is proved," I said grimly. "In the meantime, I take no one on faith. The Inneses never do." + + Gertrude, who had been standing aloof at a window, turned suddenly. "But when the bonds are offered for sale, Halsey, won't the thief be detected at once?" + + Halsey turned with a superior smile. + + "It wouldn't be done that way," he said. "They would be taken out of the vault by some one who had access to it, and used as collateral for a loan in another bank. It would be possible to realize eighty per cent. of their face value." + + "In cash?" + + "In cash." + + "But the man who did it--he would be known?" + + "Yes. I tell you both, as sure as I stand here, I believe that Paul Armstrong looted his own bank. I believe he has a million at least, as the result, and that he will never come back. I'm worse than a pauper now. I can't ask Louise to share nothing a year with me and when I think of this disgrace for her, I'm crazy." + + The most ordinary events of life seemed pregnant with possibilities that day, and when Halsey was called to the telephone, I ceased all pretense at eating. When he came back from the telephone his face showed that something had occurred. He waited, however, until Thomas left the dining-room: then he told us. + + "Paul Armstrong is dead," he announced gravely. "He died this morning in California. Whatever he did, he is beyond the law now." + + Gertrude turned pale. + + "And the only man who could have cleared Jack can never do it!" she said despairingly. + + "Also," I replied coldly, "Mr. Armstrong is for ever beyond the power of defending himself. When your Jack comes to me, with some two hundred thousand dollars in his hands, which is about what you have lost, I shall believe him innocent." + + Halsey threw his cigarette away and turned on me. + + "There you go!" he exclaimed. "If he was the thief, he could return the money, of course. If he is innocent, he probably hasn't a tenth of that amount in the world. In his hands! That's like a woman." + + Gertrude, who had been pale and despairing during the early part of the conversation, had flushed an indignant red. She got up and drew herself to her slender height, looking down at me with the scorn of the young and positive. + + "You are the only mother I ever had," she said tensely. "I have given you all I would have given my mother, had she lived--my love, my trust. And now, when I need you most, you fail me. I tell you, John Bailey is a good man, an honest man. If you say he is not, you--you--" + + "Gertrude," Halsey broke in sharply. She dropped beside the table and, burying her face in her arms broke into a storm of tears. + + "I love him--love him," she sobbed, in a surrender that was totally unlike her. "Oh, I never thought it would be like this. I can't bear it. I can't." + + Halsey and I stood helpless before the storm. I would have tried to comfort her, but she had put me away, and there was something aloof in her grief, something new and strange. At last, when her sorrow had subsided to the dry shaking sobs of a tired child, without raising her head she put out one groping hand. + + "Aunt Ray!" she whispered. In a moment I was on my knees beside her, her arm around my neck, her cheek against my hair. + + "Where am I in this?" Halsey said suddenly and tried to put his arms around us both. It was a welcome distraction, and Gertrude was soon herself again. The little storm had cleared the air. Nevertheless, my opinion remained unchanged. There was much to be cleared up before I would consent to any renewal of my acquaintance with John Bailey. And Halsey and Gertrude knew it, knowing me. + + CHAPTER XI + + HALSEY MAKES A CAPTURE + + It was about half-past eight when we left the dining-room and still engrossed with one subject, the failure of the bank and its attendant evils Halsey and I went out into the grounds for a stroll Gertrude followed us shortly. "The light was thickening," to appropriate Shakespeare's description of twilight, and once again the tree-toads and the crickets were making night throb with their tiny life. It was almost oppressively lonely, in spite of its beauty, and I felt a sickening pang of homesickness for my city at night--for the clatter of horses' feet on cemented paving, for the lights, the voices, the sound of children playing. The country after dark oppresses me. The stars, quite eclipsed in the city by the electric lights, here become insistent, assertive. Whether I want to or not, I find myself looking for the few I know by name, and feeling ridiculously new and small by contrast--always an unpleasant sensation. + + After Gertrude joined us, we avoided any further mention of the murder. To Halsey, as to me, there was ever present, I am sure, the thought of our conversation of the night before. As we strolled back and forth along the drive, Mr. Jamieson emerged from the shadow of the trees. + + "Good evening," he said, managing to include Gertrude in his bow. + + Gertrude had never been even ordinarily courteous to him, and she nodded coldly. Halsey, however, was more cordial, although we were all constrained enough. He and Gertrude went on together, leaving the detective to walk with me. As soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to me. + + "Do you know, Miss Innes," he said, "the deeper I go into this thing, the more strange it seems to me. I am very sorry for Miss Gertrude. It looks as if Bailey, whom she has tried so hard to save, is worse than a rascal; and after her plucky fight for him, it seems hard." + + I looked through the dusk to where Gertrude's light dinner dress gleamed among the trees. She HAD made a plucky fight, poor child. Whatever she might have been driven to do, I could find nothing but a deep sympathy for her. If she had only come to me with the whole truth then! + + "Miss Innes," Mr. Jamieson was saying, "in the last three days, have you seen a--any suspicious figures around the grounds? Any--woman?" + + "No," I replied. "I have a houseful of maids that will bear watching, one and all. But there has been no strange woman near the house or Liddy would have seen her, you may be sure. She has a telescopic eye." + + Mr. Jamieson looked thoughtful. + + "It may not amount to anything," he said slowly. "It is difficult to get any perspective on things around here, because every one down in the village is sure he saw the murderer, either before or since the crime. And half of them will stretch a point or two as to facts, to be obliging. But the man who drives the hack down there tells a story that may possibly prove to be important." + + "I have heard it, I think. Was it the one the parlor maid brought up yesterday, about a ghost wringing its hands on the roof? Or perhaps it's the one the milk-boy heard: a tramp washing a dirty shirt, presumably bloody, in the creek below the bridge?" + + I could see the gleam of Mr. Jamieson's teeth, as he smiled. + + "Neither," he said. "But Matthew Geist, which is our friend's name, claims that on Saturday night, at nine-thirty, a veiled lady--" + + "I knew it would be a veiled lady," I broke in. + + "A veiled lady," he persisted, "who was apparently young and beautiful, engaged his hack and asked to be driven to Sunnyside. Near the gate, however, she made him stop, in spite of his remonstrances, saying she preferred to walk to the house. She paid him, and he left her there. Now, Miss Innes, you had no such visitor, I believe?" + + "None," I said decidedly. + + "Geist thought it might be a maid, as you had got a supply that day. But he said her getting out near the gate puzzled him. Anyhow, we have now one veiled lady, who, with the ghostly intruder of Friday night, makes two assets that I hardly know what to do with." + + "It is mystifying," I admitted, "although I can think of one possible explanation. The path from the Greenwood Club to the village enters the road near the lodge gate. A woman who wished to reach the Country Club, unperceived, might choose such a method. There are plenty of women there." + + I think this gave him something to ponder, for in a short time he said good night and left. But I myself was far from satisfied. I was determined, however, on one thing. If my suspicions--for I had suspicions--were true, I would make my own investigations, and Mr. Jamieson should learn only what was good for him to know. + + We went back to the house, and Gertrude, who was more like herself since her talk with Halsey, sat down at the mahogany desk in the living-room to write a letter. Halsey prowled up and down the entire east wing, now in the card-room, now in the billiard- room, and now and then blowing his clouds of tobacco smoke among the pink and gold hangings of the drawing-room. After a little I joined him in the billiard-room, and together we went over the details of the discovery of the body. + + The card-room was quite dark. Where we sat, in the billiard- room, only one of the side brackets was lighted, and we spoke in subdued tones, as the hour and the subject seemed to demand. When I spoke of the figure Liddy and I had seen on the porch through the card-room window Friday night, Halsey sauntered into the darkened room, and together we stood there, much as Liddy and I had done that other night. + + The window was the same grayish rectangle in the blackness as before. A few feet away in the hall was the spot where the body of Arnold Armstrong had been found. I was a bit nervous, and I put my hand on Halsey's sleeve. Suddenly, from the top of the staircase above us came the sound of a cautious footstep. At first I was not sure, but Halsey's attitude told me he had heard and was listening. The step, slow, measured, infinitely cautious, was nearer now. Halsey tried to loosen my fingers, but I was in a paralysis of fright. + + The swish of a body against the curving rail, as if for guidance, was plain enough, and now whoever it was had reached the foot of the staircase and had caught a glimpse of our rigid silhouettes against the billiard-room doorway. Halsey threw me off then and strode forward. + + "Who is it?" he called imperiously, and took a half dozen rapid strides toward the foot of the staircase. Then I heard him mutter something; there was the crash of a falling body, the slam of the outer door, and, for an instant, quiet. I screamed, I think. Then I remember turning on the lights and finding Halsey, white with fury, trying to untangle himself from something warm and fleecy. He had cut his forehead a little on the lowest step of the stairs, and he was rather a ghastly sight. + + He flung the white object at me, and, jerking open the outer door, raced into the darkness. + + Gertrude had come on hearing the noise, and now we stood, staring at each other over--of all things on earth--a white silk and wool blanket, exquisitely fine! It was the most unghostly thing in the world, with its lavender border and its faint scent. Gertrude was the first to speak. + + "Somebody--had it?" she asked. + + "Yes. Halsey tried to stop whoever it was and fell. Gertrude, that blanket is not mine. I have never seen before." + + She held it up and looked at it: then she went to the door on to the veranda and threw it open. Perhaps a hundred feet from the house were two figures, that moved slowly toward us as we looked. + + When they came within range of the light, I recognized Halsey, and with him Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper. + + CHAPTER XII + + ONE MYSTERY FOR ANOTHER + + The most commonplace incident takes on a new appearance if the attendant circumstances are unusual. There was no reason on earth why Mrs. Watson should not have carried a blanket down the east wing staircase, if she so desired. But to take a blanket down at eleven o'clock at night, with every precaution as to noise, and, when discovered, to fling it at Halsey and bolt-- Halsey's word, and a good one--into the grounds,--this made the incident more than significant. + + They moved slowly across the lawn and up the steps. Halsey was talking quietly, and Mrs. Watson was looking down and listening. She was a woman of a certain amount of dignity, most efficient, so far as I could see, although Liddy would have found fault if she dared. But just now Mrs. Watson's face was an enigma. She was defiant, I think, under her mask of submission, and she still showed the effect of nervous shock. + + "Mrs. Watson," I said severely, "will you be so good as to explain this rather unusual occurrence?" + + "I don't think it so unusual, Miss Innes." Her voice was deep and very clear: just now it was somewhat tremulous. "I was taking a blanket down to Thomas, who is--not well to-night, and I used this staircase, as being nearer the path to the lodge When-- Mr. Innes called and then rushed at me, I--I was alarmed, and flung the blanket at him." + + Halsey was examining the cut on his forehead in a small mirror on the wall. It was not much of an injury, but it had bled freely, and his appearance was rather terrifying. + + "Thomas ill?" he said, over his shoulder. "Why, I thought I saw Thomas out there as you made that cyclonic break out of the door and over the porch." + + I could see that under pretense of examining his injury he was watching her through the mirror. + + "Is this one of the servants' blankets, Mrs. Watson?" I asked, holding up its luxurious folds to the light. + + "Everything else is locked away," she replied. Which was true enough, no doubt. I had rented the house without bed furnishings. + + "If Thomas is ill," Halsey said, "some member of the family ought to go down to see him. You needn't bother, Mrs. Watson. I will take the blanket." + + She drew herself up quickly, as if in protest, but she found nothing to say. She stood smoothing the folds of her dead black dress, her face as white as chalk above it. Then she seemed to make up her mind. + + "Very well, Mr. Innes," she said. "Perhaps you would better go. I have done all I could." + + And then she turned and went up the circular staircase, moving slowly and with a certain dignity. Below, the three of us stared at one another across the intervening white blanket. + + "Upon my word," Halsey broke out, "this place is a walking nightmare. I have the feeling that we three outsiders who have paid our money for the privilege of staying in this spook- factory, are living on the very top of things. We're on the lid, so to speak. Now and then we get a sight of the things inside, but we are not a part of them." + + "Do you suppose," Gertrude asked doubtfully, "that she really meant that blanket for Thomas?" + + "Thomas was standing beside that magnolia tree," Halsey replied, "when I ran after Mrs. Watson. It's down to this, Aunt Ray. Rosie's basket and Mrs. Watson's blanket can only mean one thing: there is somebody hiding or being hidden in the lodge. It wouldn't surprise me if we hold the key to the whole situation now. Anyhow, I'm going to the lodge to investigate." + + Gertrude wanted to go, too, but she looked so shaken that I insisted she should not. I sent for Liddy to help her to bed, and then Halsey and I started for the lodge. The grass was heavy with dew, and, man-like, Halsey chose the shortest way across the lawn. Half-way, however, he stopped. + + "We'd better go by the drive," he said. "This isn't a lawn; it's a field. Where's the gardener these days?" + + "There isn't any," I said meekly. "We have been thankful enough, so far, to have our meals prepared and served and the beds aired. The gardener who belongs here is working at the club." + + "Remind me to-morrow to send out a man from town," he said. "I know the very fellow." + + I record this scrap of conversation, just as I have tried to put down anything and everything that had a bearing on what followed, because the gardener Halsey sent the next day played an important part in the events of the next few weeks--events that culminated, as you know, by stirring the country profoundly. At that time, however, I was busy trying to keep my skirts dry, and paid little or no attention to what seemed then a most trivial remark. + + Along the drive I showed Halsey where I had found Rosie's basket with the bits of broken china piled inside. He was rather skeptical. + + "Warner probably," he said when I had finished. "Began it as a joke on Rosie, and ended by picking up the broken china out of the road, knowing it would play hob with the tires of the car." Which shows how near one can come to the truth, and yet miss it altogether. + + At the lodge everything was quiet. There was a light in the sitting-room down-stairs, and a faint gleam, as if from a shaded lamp, in one of the upper rooms. Halsey stopped and examined the lodge with calculating eyes. + + "I don't know, Aunt Ray," he said dubiously; "this is hardly a woman's affair. If there's a scrap of any kind, you hike for the timber." Which was Halsey's solicitous care for me, put into vernacular. + + "I shall stay right here," I said, and crossing the small veranda, now shaded and fragrant with honeysuckle, I hammered the knocker on the door. + + Thomas opened the door himself--Thomas, fully dressed and in his customary health. I had the blanket over my arm. + + "I brought the blanket, Thomas," I said; "I am sorry you are so ill." + + The old man stood staring at me and then at the blanket. His confusion under other circumstances would have been ludicrous. + + "What! Not ill?" Halsey said from the step. "Thomas, I'm afraid you've been malingering." + + Thomas seemed to have been debating something with himself. Now he stepped out on the porch and closed the door gently behind him. + + "I reckon you bettah come in, Mis' Innes," he said, speaking cautiously. "It's got so I dunno what to do, and it's boun' to come out some time er ruther." + + He threw the door open then, and I stepped inside, Halsey close behind. In the sitting-room the old negro turned with quiet dignity to Halsey. + + "You bettah sit down, sah," he said. "It's a place for a woman, sah." + + Things were not turning out the way Halsey expected. He sat down on the center-table, with his hands thrust in his pockets, and watched me as I followed Thomas up the narrow stairs. At the top a woman was standing, and a second glance showed me it was Rosie. + + She shrank back a little, but I said nothing. And then Thomas motioned to a partly open door, and I went in. + + The lodge boasted three bedrooms up-stairs, all comfortably furnished. In this one, the largest and airiest, a night lamp was burning, and by its light I could make out a plain white metal bed. A girl was asleep there--or in a half stupor, for she muttered something now and then. Rosie had taken her courage in her hands, and coming in had turned up the light. It was only then that I knew. Fever-flushed, ill as she was, I recognized Louise Armstrong. + + I stood gazing down at her in a stupor of amazement. Louise here, hiding at the lodge, ill and alone! Rosie came up to the bed and smoothed the white counterpane. + + "I am afraid she is worse to-night," she ventured at last. I put my hand on the sick girl's forehead. It was burning with fever, and I turned to where Thomas lingered in the hallway. + + "Will you tell me what you mean, Thomas Johnson, by not telling me this before?" I demanded indignantly. + + Thomas quailed. + + "Mis' Louise wouldn' let me," he said earnestly. "I wanted to. She ought to 'a' had a doctor the night she came, but she wouldn' hear to it. Is she--is she very bad, Mis' Innes?" + + "Bad enough," I said coldly. "Send Mr. Innes up." + + Halsey came up the stairs slowly, looking rather interested and inclined to be amused. For a moment he could not see anything distinctly in the darkened room; he stopped, glanced at Rosie and at me, and then his eyes fell on the restless head on the pillow. + + I think he felt who it was before he really saw her; he crossed the room in a couple of strides and bent over the bed. + + "Louise!" he said softly; but she did not reply, and her eyes showed no recognition. Halsey was young, and illness was new to him. He straightened himself slowly, still watching her, and caught my arm. + + "She's dying, Aunt Ray!" he said huskily. "Dying! Why, she doesn't know me!" + + "Fudge!" I snapped, being apt to grow irritable when my sympathies are aroused. "She's doing nothing of the sort,--and don't pinch my arm. If you want something to do, go and choke Thomas." + + But at that moment Louise roused from her stupor to cough, and at the end of the paroxysm, as Rosie laid her back, exhausted, she knew us. That was all Halsey wanted; to him consciousness was recovery. He dropped on his knees beside the bed, and tried to tell her she was all right, and we would bring her around in a hurry, and how beautiful she looked--only to break down utterly and have to stop. And at that I came to my senses, and put him out. + + "This instant!" I ordered, as he hesitated. "And send Rosie here." + + He did not go far. He sat on the top step of the stairs, only leaving to telephone for a doctor, and getting in everybody's way in his eagerness to fetch and carry. I got him away finally, by sending him to fix up the car as a sort of ambulance, in case the doctor would allow the sick girl to be moved. He sent Gertrude down to the lodge loaded with all manner of impossible things, including an armful of Turkish towels and a box of mustard plasters, and as the two girls had known each other somewhat before, Louise brightened perceptibly when she saw her. + + When the doctor from Englewood--the Casanova doctor, Doctor Walker, being away--had started for Sunnyside, and I had got Thomas to stop trying to explain what he did not understand himself, I had a long talk with the old man, and this is what I learned. + + On Saturday evening before, about ten o'clock, he had been reading in the sitting-room down-stairs, when some one rapped at the door. The old man was alone, Warner not having arrived, and at first he was uncertain about opening the door. He did so finally, and was amazed at being confronted by Louise Armstrong. Thomas was an old family servant, having been with the present Mrs. Armstrong since she was a child, and he was overwhelmed at seeing Louise. He saw that she was excited and tired, and he drew her into the sitting-room and made her sit down. After a while he went to the house and brought Mrs. Watson, and they talked until late. The old man said Louise was in trouble, and seemed frightened. Mrs. Watson made some tea and took it to the lodge, but Louise made them both promise to keep her presence a secret. She had not known that Sunnyside was rented, and whatever her trouble was, this complicated things. She seemed puzzled. Her stepfather and her mother were still in California--that was all she would say about them. Why she had run away no one could imagine. Mr. Arnold Armstrong was at the Greenwood Club, and at last Thomas, not knowing what else to do, went over there along the path. It was almost midnight. Part- way over he met Armstrong himself and brought him to the lodge. Mrs. Watson had gone to the house for some bed-linen, it having been arranged that under the circumstances Louise would be better at the lodge until morning. Arnold Armstrong and Louise had a long conference, during which he was heard to storm and become very violent. When he left it was after two. He had gone up to the house--Thomas did not know why--and at three o'clock he was shot at the foot of the circular staircase. + + The following morning Louise had been ill. She had asked for Arnold, and was told he had left town. Thomas had not the moral courage to tell her of the crime. She refused a doctor, and shrank morbidly from having her presence known. Mrs. Watson and Thomas had had their hands full, and at last Rosie had been enlisted to help them. She carried necessary provisions--little enough--to the lodge, and helped to keep the secret. + + Thomas told me quite frankly that he had been anxious to keep Louise's presence hidden for this reason: they had all seen Arnold Armstrong that night, and he, himself, for one, was known to have had no very friendly feeling for the dead man. As to the reason for Louise's flight from California, or why she had not gone to the Fitzhughs', or to some of her people in town, he had no more information than I had. With the death of her stepfather and the prospect of the immediate return of the family, things had become more and more impossible. I gathered that Thomas was as relieved as I at the turn events had taken. No, she did not know of either of the deaths in the family. + + Taken all around, I had only substituted one mystery for another. + + If I knew now why Rosie had taken the basket of dishes, I did not know who had spoken to her and followed her along the drive. If I knew that Louise was in the lodge, I did not know why she was there. If I knew that Arnold Armstrong had spent some time in the lodge the night before he was murdered, I was no nearer the solution of the crime. Who was the midnight intruder who had so alarmed Liddy and myself? Who had fallen down the clothes chute? Was Gertrude's lover a villain or a victim? Time was to answer all these things. + + CHAPTER XIII + + LOUISE + + The doctor from Englewood came very soon, and I went up to see the sick girl with him. Halsey had gone to supervise the fitting of the car with blankets and pillows, and Gertrude was opening and airing Louise's own rooms at the house. Her private sitting- room, bedroom and dressing-room were as they had been when we came. They occupied the end of the east wing, beyond the circular staircase, and we had not even opened them. + + The girl herself was too ill to notice what was being done. When, with the help of the doctor, who was a fatherly man with a family of girls at home, we got her to the house and up the stairs into bed, she dropped into a feverish sleep, which lasted until morning. Doctor Stewart--that was the Englewood doctor-- stayed almost all night, giving the medicine himself, and watching her closely. Afterward he told me that she had had a narrow escape from pneumonia, and that the cerebral symptoms had been rather alarming. I said I was glad it wasn't an "itis" of some kind, anyhow, and he smiled solemnly. + + He left after breakfast, saying that he thought the worst of the danger was over, and that she must be kept very quiet. + + "The shock of two deaths, I suppose, has done this," he remarked, picking up his case. "It has been very deplorable." + + I hastened to set him right. + + "She does not know of either, Doctor," I said. "Please do not mention them to her." + + He looked as surprised as a medical man ever does. + + "I do not know the family," he said, preparing to get into his top buggy. "Young Walker, down in Casanova, has been attending them. I understand he is going to marry this young lady." + + "You have been misinformed," I said stiffly. "Miss Armstrong is going to marry my nephew." + + The doctor smiled as he picked up the reins. + + "Young ladies are changeable these days," he said. "We thought the wedding was to occur soon. Well, I will stop in this afternoon to see how my patient is getting along." + + He drove away then, and I stood looking after him. He was a doctor of the old school, of the class of family practitioner that is fast dying out; a loyal and honorable gentleman who was at once physician and confidential adviser to his patients. When I was a girl we called in the doctor alike when we had measles, or when mother's sister died in the far West. He cut out redundant tonsils and brought the babies with the same air of inspiring self-confidence. Nowadays it requires a different specialist for each of these occurrences. When the babies cried, old Doctor Wainwright gave them peppermint and dropped warm sweet oil in their ears with sublime faith that if it was not colic it was earache. When, at the end of a year, father met him driving in his high side-bar buggy with the white mare ambling along, and asked for a bill, the doctor used to go home, estimate what his services were worth for that period, divide it in half--I don't think he kept any books--and send father a statement, in a cramped hand, on a sheet of ruled white paper. He was an honored guest at all the weddings, christenings, and funerals--yes, funerals--for every one knew he had done his best, and there was no gainsaying the ways of Providence. + + Ah, well, Doctor Wainwright is gone, and I am an elderly woman with an increasing tendency to live in the past. The contrast between my old doctor at home and the Casanova doctor, Frank Walker, always rouses me to wrath and digression. + + Some time about noon of that day, Wednesday, Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh telephoned me. I have the barest acquaintance with her--she managed to be put on the governing board of the Old Ladies' Home and ruins their digestions by sending them ice-cream and cake on every holiday. Beyond that, and her reputation at bridge, which is insufferably bad--she is the worst player at the bridge club-- I know little of her. It was she who had taken charge of Arnold Armstrong's funeral, however, and I went at once to the telephone. + + "Yes," I said, "this is Miss Innes." + + "Miss Innes," she said volubly, "I have just received a very strange telegram from my cousin, Mrs. Armstrong. Her husband died yesterday, in California and--wait, I will read you the message." + + I knew what was coming, and I made up my mind at once. If Louise Armstrong had a good and sufficient reason for leaving her people and coming home, a reason, moreover, that kept her from going at once to Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh, and that brought her to the lodge at Sunnyside instead, it was not my intention to betray her. Louise herself must notify her people. I do not justify myself now, but remember, I was in a peculiar position toward the Armstrong family. I was connected most unpleasantly with a cold- blooded crime, and my niece and nephew were practically beggared, either directly or indirectly, through the head of the family. + + Mrs. Fitzhugh had found the message. + + "`Paul died yesterday. Heart disease,'" she read. "`Wire at once if Louise is with you.' You see, Miss Innes, Louise must have started east, and Fanny is alarmed about her." + + "Yes," I said. + + "Louise is not here," Mrs. Fitzhugh went on, "and none of her friends--the few who are still in town--has seen her. I called you because Sunnyside was not rented when she went away, and Louise might have, gone there." + + "I am sorry, Mrs. Fitzhugh, but I can not help you," I said, and was immediately filled with compunction. Suppose Louise grew worse? Who was I to play Providence in this case? The anxious mother certainly had a right to know that her daughter was in good hands. So I broke in on Mrs. Fitzhugh's voluble excuses for disturbing me. + + "Mrs. Fitzhugh," I said. "I was going to let you think I knew nothing about Louise Armstrong, but I have changed my mind. Louise is here, with me." There was a clatter of ejaculations at the other end of the wire. "She is ill, and not able to be moved. Moreover, she is unable to see any one. I wish you would wire her mother that she is with me, and tell her not to worry. No, I do not know why she came east." + + "But my dear Miss Innes!" Mrs. Fitzhugh began. I cut in ruthlessly. + + "I will send for you as soon as she can see you," I said. "No, she is not in a critical state now, but the doctor says she must have absolute quiet." + + When I had hung up the receiver, I sat down to think. So Louise had fled from her people in California, and had come east alone! It was not a new idea, but why had she done it? It occurred to me that Doctor Walker might be concerned in it, might possibly have bothered her with unwelcome attentions; but it seemed to me that Louise was hardly a girl to take refuge in flight under such circumstances. She had always been high-spirited, with the well-poised head and buoyant step of the outdoors girl. It must have been much more in keeping with Louise's character, as I knew it, to resent vigorously any unwelcome attentions from Doctor Walker. It was the suitor whom I should have expected to see in headlong flight, not the lady in the case. + + The puzzle was no clearer at the end of the half-hour. I picked up the morning papers, which were still full of the looting of the Traders' Bank, the interest at fever height again, on account of Paul Armstrong's death. The bank examiners were working on the books, and said nothing for publication: John Bailey had been released on bond. The body of Paul Armstrong would arrive Sunday and would be buried from the Armstrong town house. There were rumors that the dead man's estate had been a comparatively small one. The last paragraph was the important one. + + Walter P. Broadhurst, of the Marine Bank, had produced two hundred American Traction bonds, which had been placed as security with the Marine Bank for a loan of one hundred and sixty thousand dollars, made to Paul Armstrong, just before his California trip. The bonds were a part of the missing traction bonds from the Traders' Bank! While this involved the late president of the wrecked bank, to my mind it by no means cleared its cashier. + + The gardener mentioned by Halsey came out about two o'clock in the afternoon, and walked up from the station. I was favorably impressed by him. His references were good--he had been employed by the Brays' until they went to Europe, and he looked young and vigorous. He asked for one assistant, and I was glad enough to get off so easily. He was a pleasant-faced young fellow, with black hair and blue eyes, and his name was Alexander Graham. I have been particular about Alex, because, as I said before, he played an important part later. + + That afternoon I had a new insight into the character of the dead banker. I had my first conversation with Louise. She sent for me, and against my better judgment I went. There were so many things she could not be told, in her weakened condition, that I dreaded the interview. It was much easier than I expected, however, because she asked no questions. + + Gertrude had gone to bed, having been up almost all night, and Halsey was absent on one of those mysterious absences of his that grew more and more frequent as time went on, until it culminated in the event of the night of June the tenth. Liddy was in attendance in the sick-room. There being little or nothing to do, she seemed to spend her time smoothing the wrinkles from the counterpane. Louise lay under a field of virgin white, folded back at an angle of geometrical exactness, and necessitating a readjustment every time the sick girl turned. + + Liddy heard my approach and came out to meet me. She seemed to be in a perpetual state of goose-flesh, and she had got in the habit of looking past me when she talked, as if she saw things. It had the effect of making me look over my shoulder to see what she was staring at, and was intensely irritating. + + "She's awake," Liddy said, looking uneasily down the circular staircase, which was beside me. "She was talkin' in her sleep something awful--about dead men and coffins." + + "Liddy," I said sternly, "did you breathe a word about everything not being right here?" + + Liddy's gaze had wandered to the door of the chute, now bolted securely. + + "Not a word," she said, "beyond asking her a question or two, which there was no harm in. She says there never was a ghost known here." + + I glared at her, speechless, and closing the door into Louise's boudoir, to Liddy's great disappointment, I went on to the bedroom beyond. + + Whatever Paul Armstrong had been, he had been lavish with his stepdaughter. Gertrude's rooms at home were always beautiful apartments, but the three rooms in the east wing at Sunnyside, set apart for the daughter of the house, were much more splendid. + + From the walls to the rugs on the floor, from the furniture to the appointments of the bath, with its pool sunk in the floor instead of the customary unlovely tub, everything was luxurious. In the bedroom Louise was watching for me. It was easy to see that she was much improved; the flush was going, and the peculiar gasping breathing of the night before was now a comfortable and easy respiration. + + She held out her hand and I took it between both of mine. + + "What can I say to you, Miss Innes?" she said slowly. "To have come like this--" + + I thought she was going to break down, but she did not. + + "You are not to think of anything but of getting well," I said, patting her hand. "When you are better, I am going to scold you for not coming here at once. This is your home, my dear, and of all people in the world, Halsey's old aunt ought to make you welcome." + + She smiled a little, sadly, I thought. + + "I ought not to see Halsey," she said. "Miss Innes, there are a great many things you will never understand, I am afraid. I am an impostor on your sympathy, because I--I stay here and let you lavish care on me, and all the time I know you are going to despise me." + + "Nonsense!" I said briskly. "Why, what would Halsey do to me if I even ventured such a thing? He is so big and masterful that if I dared to be anything but rapturous over you, he would throw me out of a window. Indeed, he would be quite capable of it." + + She seemed scarcely to hear my facetious tone. She had eloquent brown eyes--the Inneses are fair, and are prone to a grayish- green optic that is better for use than appearance--and they seemed now to be clouded with trouble. + + "Poor Halsey!" she said softly. "Miss Innes, I can not marry him, and I am afraid to tell him. I am a coward--a coward!" + + I sat beside the bed and stared at her. She was too ill to argue with, and, besides, sick people take queer fancies. + + "We will talk about that when you are stronger," I said gently. + + "But there are some things I must tell you," she insisted. "You must wonder how I came here, and why I stayed hidden at the lodge. Dear old Thomas has been almost crazy, Miss Innes. I did not know that Sunnyside was rented. I knew my mother wished to rent it, without telling my--stepfather, but the news must have reached her after I left. When I started east, I had only one idea--to be alone with my thoughts for a time, to bury myself here. Then, I--must have taken a cold on the train." + + "You came east in clothing suitable for California," I said, "and, like all young girls nowadays, I don't suppose you wear flannels." But she was not listening. + + "Miss Innes," she said, "has my stepbrother Arnold gone away?" + + "What do you mean?" I asked, startled. But Louise was literal. + + "He didn't come back that night," she said, "and it was so important that I should see him." + + "I believe he has gone away," I replied uncertainly. "Isn't it something that we could attend to instead?" + + But she shook her head. "I must do it myself," she said dully. "My mother must have rented Sunnyside without telling my stepfather, and--Miss Innes, did you ever hear of any one being wretchedly poor in the midst of luxury? + + "Did you ever long, and long, for money--money to use without question, money that no one would take you to task about? My mother and I have been surrounded for years with every indulgence everything that would make a display. But we have never had any money, Miss Innes; that must have been why mother rented this house. My stepfather pays out bills. It's the most maddening, humiliating existence in the world. I would love honest poverty better." + + "Never mind," I said; "when you and Halsey are married you can be as honest as you like, and you will certainly be poor." + + Halsey came to the door at that moment and I could hear him coaxing Liddy for admission to the sick room. + + "Shall I bring him in?" I asked Louise, uncertain what to do. The girl seemed to shrink back among her pillows at the sound of his voice. I was vaguely irritated with her; there are few young fellows like Halsey--straightforward, honest, and willing to sacrifice everything for the one woman. I knew one once, more than thirty years ago, who was like that: he died a long time ago. And sometimes I take out his picture, with its cane and its queer silk hat, and look at it. But of late years it has grown too painful: he is always a boy--and I am an old woman. I would not bring him back if I could. + + Perhaps it was some such memory that made me call out sharply. + + "Come in, Halsey." And then I took my sewing and went into the boudoir beyond, to play propriety. I did not try to hear what they said, but every word came through the open door with curious distinctness. Halsey had evidently gone over to the bed and I suppose he kissed her. There was silence for a moment, as if words were superfluous things. + + "I have been almost wild, sweetheart,"--Halsey's voice. "Why didn't you trust me, and send for me before?" + + "It was because I couldn't trust myself," she said in a low tone. + + "I am too weak to struggle to-day; oh, Halsey, how I have wanted to see you!" + + There was something I did not hear, then Halsey again. + + "We could go away," he was saying. "What does it matter about any one in the world but just the two of us? To be always together, like this, hand in hand; Louise--don't tell me it isn't going to be. I won't believe you." + + "You don't know; you don't know," Louise repeated dully. "Halsey, I care--you know that--but--not enough to marry you." + + "That is not true, Louise," he said sternly. "You can not look at me with your honest eyes and say that." + + "I can not marry you," she repeated miserably. "It's bad enough, isn't it? Don't make it worse. Some day, before long, you will be glad." + + "Then it is because you have never loved me." There were depths of hurt pride in his voice. "You saw how much I loved you, and you let me think you cared--for a while. No--that isn't like you, Louise. There is something you haven't told me. Is it-- because there is some one else?" + + "Yes," almost inaudibly. + + "Louise! Oh, I don't believe it." + + "It is true," she said sadly. "Halsey, you must not try to see me again. As soon as I can, I am going away from here--where you are all so much kinder than I deserve. And whatever you hear about me, try to think as well of me as you can. I am going to marry--another man. How you must hate me--hate me!" + + I could hear Halsey cross the room to the window. Then, after a pause, he went back to her again. I could hardly sit still; I wanted to go in and give her a good shaking. + + "Then it's all over," he was saying with a long breath. "The plans we made together, the hopes, the--all of it--over! Well, I'll not be a baby, and I'll give you up the minute you say `I don't love you and I do love--some one else'!" + + "I can not say that," she breathed, "but, very soon, I shall marry--the other man." + + I could hear Halsey's low triumphant laugh. + + "I defy him," he said. "Sweetheart, as long as you care for me, I am not afraid." + + The wind slammed the door between the two rooms just then, and I could hear nothing more, although I moved my chair quite close. After a discreet interval, I went into the other room, and found Louise alone. She was staring with sad eyes at the cherub painted on the ceiling over the bed, and because she looked tired I did not disturb her. + + CHAPTER XIV + + AN EGG-NOG AND A TELEGRAM + + We had discovered Louise at the lodge Tuesday night. It was Wednesday I had my interview with her. Thursday and Friday were uneventful, save as they marked improvement in our patient. Gertrude spent almost all the time with her, and the two had grown to be great friends. But certain things hung over me constantly; the coroner's inquest on the death of Arnold Armstrong, to be held Saturday, and the arrival of Mrs. Armstrong and young Doctor Walker, bringing the body of the dead president of the Traders' Bank. We had not told Louise of either death. + + Then, too, I was anxious about the children. With their mother's inheritance swept away in the wreck of the bank, and with their love affairs in a disastrous condition, things could scarcely be worse. Added to that, the cook and Liddy had a flare-up over the proper way to make beef-tea for Louise, and, of course, the cook left. + + Mrs. Watson had been glad enough, I think, to turn Louise over to our care, and Thomas went upstairs night and morning to greet his young mistress from the doorway. Poor Thomas! He had the faculty--found still in some old negroes, who cling to the traditions of slavery days--of making his employer's interest his. It was always "we" with Thomas; I miss him sorely; pipe- smoking, obsequious, not over reliable, kindly old man! + + On Thursday Mr. Harton, the Armstrongs' legal adviser, called up from town. He had been advised, he said, that Mrs. Armstrong was coming east with her husband's body and would arrive Monday. He came with some hesitation, he went on, to the fact that he had been further instructed to ask me to relinquish my lease on Sunnyside, as it was Mrs. Armstrong's desire to come directly there. + + I was aghast. + + "Here!" I said. "Surely you are mistaken, Mr. Harton. I should think, after--what happened here only a few days ago, she would never wish to come back." + + "Nevertheless," he replied, "she is most anxious to come. This is what she says. `Use every possible means to have Sunnyside vacated. Must go there at once.'" + + "Mr. Harton," I said testily, "I am not going to do anything of the kind. I and mine have suffered enough at the hands of this family. I rented the house at an exorbitant figure and I have moved out here for the summer. My city home is dismantled and in the hands of decorators. I have been here one week, during which I have had not a single night of uninterrupted sleep, and I intend to stay until I have recuperated. Moreover, if Mr. Armstrong died insolvent, as I believe was the case, his widow ought to be glad to be rid of so expensive a piece of property." + + The lawyer cleared his throat. + + "I am very sorry you have made this decision," he said. "Miss Innes, Mrs. Fitzhugh tells me Louise Armstrong is with you." + + "She is." + + "Has she been informed of this--double bereavement?" + + "Not yet," I said. "She has been very ill; perhaps to-night she can be told." + + "It is very sad; very sad," he said. "I have a telegram for her, Mrs. Innes. Shall I send it out?" + + "Better open it and read it to me," I suggested. "If it is important, that will save time." + + There was a pause while Mr. Harton opened the telegram. Then he read it slowly, judicially. + + "`Watch for Nina Carrington. Home Monday. Signed F. L. W.'" + + "Hum!" I said. "`Watch for Nina Carrington. Home Monday.' Very well, Mr. Harton, I will tell her, but she is not in condition to watch for any one." + + "Well, Miss Innes, if you decide to--er--relinquish the lease, let me know," the lawyer said. + + "I shall not relinquish it," I replied, and I imagined his irritation from the way he hung up the receiver. + + I wrote the telegram down word for word, afraid to trust my memory, and decided to ask Doctor Stewart how soon Louise might be told the truth. The closing of the Traders' Bank I considered unnecessary for her to know, but the death of her stepfather and stepbrother must be broken to her soon, or she might hear it in some unexpected and shocking manner. + + Doctor Stewart came about four o'clock, bringing his leather satchel into the house with a great deal of care, and opening it at the foot of the stairs to show me a dozen big yellow eggs nesting among the bottles. + + "Real eggs," he said proudly. "None of your anemic store eggs, but the real thing--some of them still warm. Feel them! Egg-nog for Miss Louise." + + He was beaming with satisfaction, and before he left, he insisted on going back to the pantry and making an egg-nog with his own hands. Somehow, all the time he was doing it, I had a vision of Doctor Willoughby, my nerve specialist in the city, trying to make an egg-nog. I wondered if he ever prescribed anything so plebeian--and so delicious. And while Doctor Stewart whisked the eggs he talked. + + "I said to Mrs. Stewart," he confided, a little red in the face from the exertion, "after I went home the other day, that you would think me an old gossip, for saying what I did about Walker and Miss Louise." + + "Nothing of the sort," I protested. + + "The fact is," he went on, evidently justifying him self, "I got that piece of information just as we get a lot of things, through the kitchen end of the house. Young Walker's chauffeur--Walker's more fashionable than I am, and he goes around the country in a Stanhope car--well, his chauffeur comes to see our servant girl, and he told her the whole thing. I thought it was probable, because Walker spent a lot of time up here last summer, when the family was here, and besides, Riggs, that's Walker's man, had a very pat little story about the doctor's building a house on this property, just at the foot of the hill. The sugar, please." + + The egg-nog was finished. Drop by drop the liquor had cooked the egg, and now, with a final whisk, a last toss in the shaker, it was ready, a symphony in gold and white. The doctor sniffed it. + + "Real eggs, real milk, and a touch of real Kentucky whisky," he said. + + He insisted on carrying it up himself, but at the foot of the stairs he paused. + + "Riggs said the plans were drawn for the house," he said, harking back to the old subject. "Drawn by Huston in town. So I naturally believed him." + + When the doctor came down, I was ready with a question. + + "Doctor," I asked, "is there any one in the neighborhood named Carrington? Nina Carrington?" + + "Carrington?" He wrinkled his forehead. "Carrington? No, I don't remember any such family. There used to be Covingtons down the creek." + + "The name was Carrington," I said, and the subject lapsed. + + Gertrude and Halsey went for a long walk that afternoon, and Louise slept. Time hung heavy on my hands, and I did as I had fallen into a habit of doing lately--I sat down and thought things over. One result of my meditations was that I got up suddenly and went to the telephone. I had taken the most intense dislike to this Doctor Walker, whom I had never seen, and who was being talked of in the countryside as the fiance of Louise Armstrong. + + I knew Sam Huston well. There had been a time, when Sam was a good deal younger than he is now, before he had married Anne Endicott, when I knew him even better. So now I felt no hesitation in calling him over the telephone. But when his office boy had given way to his confidential clerk, and that functionary had condescended to connect his employer's desk telephone, I was somewhat at a loss as to how to begin. + + "Why, how are you, Rachel?" Sam said sonorously. "Going to build that house at Rock View?" It was a twenty-year-old joke of his. + + "Sometime, perhaps," I said. "Just now I want to ask you a question about something which is none of my business." + + "I see you haven't changed an iota in a quarter of a century, Rachel." This was intended to be another jest. "Ask ahead: everything but my domestic affairs is at your service." + + "Try to be serious," I said. "And tell me this: has your firm made any plans for a house recently, for a Doctor Walker, at Casanova?" + + "Yes, we have." + + "Where was it to be built? I have a reason for asking." + + "It was to be, I believe, on the Armstrong place. Mr. Armstrong himself consulted me, and the inference was--in fact, I am quite certain--the house was to be occupied by Mr. Armstrong's daughter, who was engaged to marry Doctor Walker." + + When the architect had inquired for the different members of my family, and had finally rung off, I was certain of one thing. Louise Armstrong was in love with Halsey, and the man she was going to marry was Doctor Walker. Moreover, this decision was not new; marriage had been contemplated for some time. There must certainly be some explanation--but what was it? + + That day I repeated to Louise the telegram Mr. Warton had opened. + + She seemed to understand, but an unhappier face I have never seen. She looked like a criminal whose reprieve is over, and the day of execution approaching. + + CHAPTER XV + + LIDDY GIVES THE ALARM + + The next day, Friday, Gertrude broke the news of her stepfather's death to Louise. She did it as gently as she could, telling her first that he was very ill, and finally that he was dead. Louise received the news in the most unexpected manner, and when Gertrude came out to tell me how she had stood it, I think she was almost shocked. + + "She just lay and stared at me, Aunt Ray," she said. "Do you know, I believe she is glad, glad! And she is too honest to pretend anything else. What sort of man was Mr. Paul Armstrong, anyhow?" + + "He was a bully as well as a rascal, Gertrude," I said. "But I am convinced of one thing; Louise will send for Halsey now, and they will make it all up." + + For Louise had steadily refused to see Halsey all that day, and the boy was frantic. + + We had a quiet hour, Halsey and I, that evening, and I told him several things; about the request that we give up the lease to Sunnyside, about the telegram to Louise, about the rumors of an approaching marriage between the girl and Doctor Walker, and, last of all, my own interview with her the day before. + + He sat back in a big chair, with his face in the shadow, and my heart fairly ached for him. He was so big and so boyish! When I had finished he drew a long breath. + + "Whatever Louise does," he said, "nothing will convince me, Aunt Ray, that she doesn't care for me. And up to two months ago, when she and her mother went west, I was the happiest fellow on earth. Then something made a difference: she wrote me that her people were opposed to the marriage; that her feeling for me was what it had always been, but that something had happened which had changed her ideas as to the future. I was not to write until she wrote me, and whatever occurred, I was to think the best I could of her. It sounded like a puzzle. When I saw her yesterday, it was the same thing, only, perhaps, worse." + + "Halsey," I asked, "have you any idea of the nature of the interview between Louise Armstrong and Arnold the night he was murdered?" + + "It was stormy. Thomas says once or twice he almost broke into the room, he was so alarmed for Louise." + + "Another thing, Halsey," I said, "have you ever heard Louise mention a woman named Carrington, Nina Carrington?" + + "Never," he said positively. + + For try as we would, our thoughts always came back to that fatal Saturday night, and the murder. Every conversational path led to it, and we all felt that Jamieson was tightening the threads of evidence around John Bailey. The detective's absence was hardly reassuring; he must have had something to work on in town, or he would have returned. + + The papers reported that the cashier of the Traders' Bank was ill in his apartments at the Knickerbocker--a condition not surprising, considering everything. The guilt of the defunct president was no longer in doubt; the missing bonds had been advertised and some of them discovered. In every instance they had been used as collateral for large loans, and the belief was current that not less than a million and a half dollars had been realized. Every one connected with the bank had been placed under arrest, and released on heavy bond. + + Was he alone in his guilt, or was the cashier his accomplice? Where was the money? The estate of the dead man was comparatively small--a city house on a fashionable street, Sunnyside, a large estate largely mortgaged, an insurance of fifty thousand dollars, and some personal property--this was all. + + The rest lost in speculation probably, the papers said. There was one thing which looked uncomfortable for Jack Bailey: he and Paul Armstrong together had promoted a railroad company in New Mexico, and it was rumored that together they had sunk large sums of money there. The business alliance between the two men added to the belief that Bailey knew something of the looting. His unexplained absence from the bank on Monday lent color to the suspicion against him. The strange thing seemed to be his surrendering himself on the point of departure. To me, it seemed the shrewd calculation of a clever rascal. I was not actively antagonistic to Gertrude's lover, but I meant to be convinced, one way or the other. I took no one on faith. + + That night the Sunnyside ghost began to walk again. Liddy had been sleeping in Louise's dressing-room on a couch, and the approach of dusk was a signal for her to barricade the entire suite. Situated as its was, beyond the circular staircase, nothing but an extremity of excitement would have made her pass it after dark. I confess myself that the place seemed to me to have a sinister appearance, but we kept that wing well lighted, and until the lights went out at midnight it was really cheerful, if one did not know its history. + + On Friday night, then, I had gone to bed, resolved to go at once to sleep. Thoughts that insisted on obtruding themselves I pushed resolutely to the back of my mind, and I systematically relaxed every muscle. I fell asleep soon, and was dreaming that Doctor Walker was building his new house immediately in front of my windows: I could hear the thump-thump of the hammers, and then I waked to a knowledge that somebody was pounding on my door. + + I was up at once, and with the sound of my footstep on the floor the low knocking ceased, to be followed immediately by sibilant whispering through the keyhole. + + "Miss Rachel! Miss Rachel!" somebody was saying, over and over. + + "Is that you, Liddy?" I asked, my hand on the knob. + + "For the love of mercy, let me in!" she said in a low tone. + + She was leaning against the door, for when I opened it, she fell in. She was greenish-white, and she had a red and black barred flannel petticoat over her shoulders. + + "Listen," she said, standing in the middle of the floor and holding on to me. "Oh, Miss Rachel, it's the ghost of that dead man hammering to get in!" + + Sure enough, there was a dull thud--thud--thud from some place near. It was muffled: one rather felt than heard it, and it was impossible to locate. One moment it seemed to come, three taps and a pause, from the floor under us: the next, thud--thud-- thud--it came apparently from the wall. + + "It's not a ghost," I said decidedly. "If it was a ghost it wouldn't rap: it would come through the keyhole." Liddy looked at the keyhole. "But it sounds very much as though some one is trying to break into the house." + + Liddy was shivering violently. I told her to get me my slippers and she brought me a pair of kid gloves, so I found my things myself, and prepared to call Halsey. As before, the night alarm had found the electric lights gone: the hall, save for its night lamp, was in darkness, as I went across to Halsey's room. I hardly know what I feared, but it was a relief to find him there, very sound asleep, and with his door unlocked. + + "Wake up, Halsey," I said, shaking him. + + He stirred a little. Liddy was half in and half out of the door, afraid as usual to be left alone, and not quite daring to enter. Her scruples seemed to fade, however, all at once. She gave a suppressed yell, bolted into the room, and stood tightly clutching the foot-board of the bed. Halsey was gradually waking. + + "I've seen it," Liddy wailed. "A woman in white down the hall!" + + I paid no attention. + + "Halsey," I persevered, "some one is breaking into the house. Get up, won't you?" + + "It isn't our house," he said sleepily. And then he roused to the exigency of the occasion. "All right, Aunt Ray," he said, still yawning. "If you'll let me get into something--" + + It was all I could do to get Liddy out of the room. The demands of the occasion had no influence on her: she had seen the ghost, she persisted, and she wasn't going into the hall. But I got her over to my room at last, more dead than alive, and made her lie down on the bed. + + The tappings, which seemed to have ceased for a while, had commenced again, but they were fainter. Halsey came over in a few minutes, and stood listening and trying to locate the sound. + + "Give me my revolver, Aunt Ray," he said; and I got it--the one I had found in the tulip bed--and gave it to him. He saw Liddy there and divined at once that Louise was alone. + + "You let me attend to this fellow, whoever it is, Aunt Ray, and go to Louise, will you? She may be awake and alarmed." + + So in spite of her protests, I left Liddy alone and went back to the east wing. Perhaps I went a little faster past the yawning blackness of the circular staircase; and I could hear Halsey creaking cautiously down the main staircase. The rapping, or pounding, had ceased, and the silence was almost painful. And then suddenly, from apparently under my very feet, there rose a woman's scream, a cry of terror that broke off as suddenly as it came. I stood frozen and still. Every drop of blood in my body seemed to leave the surface and gather around my heart. In the dead silence that followed it throbbed as if it would burst. More dead than alive, I stumbled into Louise's bedroom. She was not there! + + CHAPTER XVII + + IN THE EARLY MORNING + + I stood looking at the empty bed. The coverings had been thrown back, and Louise's pink silk dressing-gown was gone from the foot, where it had lain. The night lamp burned dimly, revealing the emptiness of the place. I picked it up, but my hand shook so that I put it down again, and got somehow to the door. + + There were voices in the hall and Gertrude came running toward me. + + "What is it?" she cried. "What was that sound? Where is Louise?" + + "She is not in her room," I said stupidly. "I think--it was she--who screamed." + + Liddy had joined us now, carrying a light. We stood huddled together at the head of the circular staircase, looking down into its shadows. There was nothing to be seen, and it was absolutely quiet down there. Then we heard Halsey running up the main staircase. He came quickly down the hall to where we were standing. + + "There's no one trying to get in. I thought I heard some one shriek. Who was it?" + + Our stricken faces told him the truth. + + "Some one screamed down there," I said. "And--and Louise is not in her room." + + With a jerk Halsey took the light from Liddy and ran down the circular staircase. I followed him, more slowly. My nerves seemed to be in a state of paralysis: I could scarcely step. At the foot of the stairs Halsey gave an exclamation and put down the light. + + "Aunt Ray," he called sharply. + + At the foot of the staircase, huddled in a heap, her head on the lower stair, was Louise Armstrong. She lay limp and white, her dressing-gown dragging loose from one sleeve of her night-dress, and the heavy braid of her dark hair stretching its length a couple of steps above her head, as if she had slipped down. + + She was not dead: Halsey put her down on the floor, and began to rub her cold hands, while Gertrude and Liddy ran for stimulants. As for me, I sat there at the foot of that ghostly staircase-- sat, because my knees wouldn't hold me--and wondered where it would all end. Louise was still unconscious, but she was breathing better, and I suggested that we get her back to bed before she came to. There was something grisly and horrible to me, seeing her there in almost the same attitude and in the same place where we had found her brother's body. And to add to the similarity, just then the hall clock, far off, struck faintly three o'clock. + + It was four before Louise was able to talk, and the first rays of dawn were coming through her windows, which faced the east, before she could tell us coherently what had occurred. I give it as she told it. She lay propped in bed, and Halsey sat beside her, unrebuffed, and held her hand while she talked. + + "I was not sleeping well," she began, "partly, I think, because I had slept during the afternoon. Liddy brought me some hot milk at ten o'clock and I slept until twelve. Then I wakened and--I got to thinking about things, and worrying, so I could not go to sleep. + + "I was wondering why I had not heard from Arnold since the--since I saw him that night at the lodge. I was afraid he was ill, because--he was to have done something for me, and he had not come back. It must have been three when I heard some one rapping. I sat up and listened, to be quite sure, and the rapping kept up. It was cautious, and I was about to call Liddy. + + "Then suddenly I thought I knew what it was. The east entrance and the circular staircase were always used by Arnold when he was out late, and sometimes, when he forgot his key, he would rap and I would go down and let him in. I thought he had come back to see me--I didn't think about the time, for his hours were always erratic. But I was afraid I was too weak to get down the stairs. + + "The knocking kept up, and just as I was about to call Liddy, she ran through the room and out into the hall. I got up then, feeling weak and dizzy, and put on my dressing-gown. If it was Arnold, I knew I must see him. + + "It was very dark everywhere, but, of course, I knew my way. I felt along for the stair-rail, and went down as quickly as I could. The knocking had stopped, and I was afraid I was too late. I got to the foot of the staircase and over to the door on to the east veranda. I had never thought of anything but that it was Arnold, until I reached the door. It was unlocked and opened about an inch. Everything was black: it was perfectly dark outside. I felt very queer and shaky. Then I thought perhaps Arnold had used his key; he did--strange things sometimes, and I turned around. Just as I reached the foot of the staircase I thought I heard some one coming. My nerves were going anyhow, there in the dark, and I could scarcely stand. I got up as far as the third or fourth step; then I felt that some one was coming toward me on the staircase. The next instant a hand met mine on the stair-rail. Some one brushed past me, and I screamed. Then I must have fainted." + + That was Louise's story. There could be no doubt of its truth, and the thing that made it inexpressibly awful to me was that the poor girl had crept down to answer the summons of a brother who would never need her kindly offices again. Twice now, without apparent cause, some one had entered the house by means of the east entrance: had apparently gone his way unhindered through the house, and gone out again as he had entered. Had this unknown visitor been there a third time, the night Arnold Armstrong was murdered? Or a fourth, the time Mr. Jamieson had locked some one in the clothes chute? + + Sleep was impossible, I think, for any of us. We dispersed finally to bathe and dress, leaving Louise little the worse for her experience. But I determined that before the day was over she must know the true state of affairs. Another decision I made, and I put it into execution immediately after breakfast. I had one of the unused bedrooms in the east wing, back along the small corridor, prepared for occupancy, and from that time on, Alex, the gardener, slept there. One man in that barn of a house was an absurdity, with things happening all the time, and I must say that Alex was as unobjectionable as any one could possibly have been. + + The next morning, also, Halsey and I made an exhaustive examination of the circular staircase, the small entry at its foot, and the card-room opening from it. There was no evidence of anything unusual the night before, and had we not ourselves heard the rapping noises, I should have felt that Louise's imagination had run away with her. The outer door was closed and locked, and the staircase curved above us, for all the world like any other staircase. + + Halsey, who had never taken seriously my account of the night Liddy and I were there alone, was grave enough now. He examined the paneling of the wainscoting above and below the stairs, evidently looking for a secret door, and suddenly there flashed into my mind the recollection of a scrap of paper that Mr. Jamieson had found among Arnold Armstrong's effects. As nearly as possible I repeated its contents to him, while Halsey took them down in a note-book. + + "I wish you had told me that before," he said, as he put the memorandum carefully away. We found nothing at all in the house, and I expected little from any examination of the porch and grounds. But as we opened the outer door something fell into the entry with a clatter. It was a cue from the billiard-room. + + Halsey picked it up with an exclamation. + + "That's careless enough," he said. "Some of the servants have been amusing themselves." + + I was far from convinced. Not one of the servants would go into that wing at night unless driven by dire necessity. And a billiard cue! As a weapon of either offense or defense it was an absurdity, unless one accepted Liddy's hypothesis of a ghost, and even then, as Halsey pointed out, a billiard-playing ghost would be a very modern evolution of an ancient institution. + + That afternoon we, Gertrude, Halsey and I, attended the coroner's inquest in town. Doctor Stewart had been summoned also, it transpiring that in that early Sunday morning, when Gertrude and I had gone to our rooms, he had been called to view the body. We went, the four of us, in the machine, preferring the execrable roads to the matinee train, with half of Casanova staring at us. And on the way we decided to say nothing of Louise and her interview with her stepbrother the night he died. The girl was in trouble enough as it was. + + CHAPTER XVII + + A HINT OF SCANDAL + + In giving the gist of what happened at the inquest, I have only one excuse--to recall to the reader the events of the night of Arnold Armstrong's murder. Many things had occurred which were not brought out at the inquest and some things were told there that were new to me. Altogether, it was a gloomy affair, and the six men in the corner, who constituted the coroner's jury, were evidently the merest puppets in the hands of that all-powerful gentleman, the coroner. + + Gertrude and I sat well back, with our veils down. There were a number of people I knew: Barbara Fitzhugh, in extravagant mourning--she always went into black on the slightest provocation, because it was becoming--and Mr. Jarvis, the man who had come over from the Greenwood Club the night of the murder. Mr. Harton was there, too, looking impatient as the inquest dragged, but alive to every particle of evidence. From a corner Mr. Jamieson was watching the proceedings intently. + + Doctor Stewart was called first. His evidence was told briefly, and amounted to this: on the Sunday morning previous, at a quarter before five, he had been called to the telephone. The message was from a Mr. Jarvis, who asked him to come at once to Sunnyside, as there had been an accident there, and Mr. Arnold Armstrong had been shot. He had dressed hastily, gathered up some instruments, and driven to Sunnyside. + + He was met by Mr. Jarvis, who took him at once to the east wing. There, just as he had fallen, was the body of Arnold Armstrong. There was no need of the instruments: the man was dead. In answer to the coroner's question--no, the body had not been moved, save to turn it over. It lay at the foot of the circular staircase. Yes, he believed death had been instantaneous. The body was still somewhat warm and rigor mortis had not set in. It occurred late in cases of sudden death. No, he believed the probability of suicide might be eliminated; the wounds could have been self-inflicted, but with difficulty, and there had been no weapon found. + + The doctor's examination was over, but he hesitated and cleared his throat. + + "Mr. Coroner," he said, "at the risk of taking up valuable time, I would like to speak of an incident that may or may not throw some light on this matter." + + The audience was alert at once. + + "Kindly proceed, Doctor," the coroner said. + + "My home is in Englewood, two miles from Casanova," the doctor began. "In the absence of Doctor Walker, a number of Casanova people have been consulting me. A month ago--five weeks, to be exact--a woman whom I had never seen came to my office. She was in deep mourning and kept her veil down, and she brought for examination a child, a boy of six. The little fellow was ill; it looked like typhoid, and the mother was frantic. She wanted a permit to admit the youngster to the Children's Hospital in town here, where I am a member of the staff, and I gave her one. The incident would have escaped me, but for a curious thing. Two days before Mr. Armstrong was shot, I was sent for to go to the Country Club: some one had been struck with a golf-ball that had gone wild. It was late when I left--I was on foot, and about a mile from the club, on the Claysburg road, I met two people. They were disputing violently, and I had no difficulty in recognizing Mr. Armstrong. The woman, beyond doubt, was the one who had consulted me about the child." + + At this hint of scandal, Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh sat up very straight. Jamieson was looking slightly skeptical, and the coroner made a note. + + "The Children's Hospital, you say, Doctor?" he asked. + + "Yes. But the child, who was entered as Lucien Wallace, was taken away by his mother two weeks ago. I have tried to trace them and failed." + + All at once I remembered the telegram sent to Louise by some one signed F. L. W.--presumably Doctor Walker. Could this veiled woman be the Nina Carrington of the message? But it was only idle speculation. I had no way of finding out, and the inquest was proceeding. + + The report of the coroner's physician came next. The post-mortem examination showed that the bullet had entered the chest in the fourth left intercostal space and had taken an oblique course downward and backward, piercing both the heart and lungs. The left lung was collapsed, and the exit point of the ball had been found in the muscles of the back to the left of the spinal column. It was improbable that such a wound had been self- inflicted, and its oblique downward course pointed to the fact that the shot had been fired from above. In other words, as the murdered man had been found dead at the foot of a staircase, it was probable that the shot had been fired by some one higher up on the stairs. There were no marks of powder. The bullet, a thirty-eight caliber, had been found in the dead man's clothing, and was shown to the jury. + + Mr. Jarvis was called next, but his testimony amounted to little. + + He had been summoned by telephone to Sunnyside, had come over at once with the steward and Mr. Winthrop, at present out of town. They had been admitted by the housekeeper, and had found the body lying at the foot of the staircase. He had made a search for a weapon, but there was none around. The outer entry door in the east wing had been unfastened and was open about an inch. + + I had been growing more and more nervous. When the coroner called Mr. John Bailey, the room was filled with suppressed excitement. Mr. Jamieson went forward and spoke a few words to the coroner, who nodded. Then Halsey was called. + + "Mr. Innes," the coroner said, "will you tell under what circumstances you saw Mr. Arnold Armstrong the night he died?" + + "I saw him first at the Country Club," Halsey said quietly. He was rather pale, but very composed. "I stopped there with my automobile for gasolene. Mr. Armstrong had been playing cards. When I saw him there, he was coming out of the card-room, talking to Mr. John Bailey." + + "The nature of the discussion--was it amicable?" + + Halsey hesitated. + + "They were having a dispute," he said. "I asked Mr. Bailey to leave the club with me and come to Sunnyside over Sunday." + + "Isn't it a fact, Mr. Innes, that you took Mr. Bailey away from the club-house because you were afraid there would be blows?" + + "The situation was unpleasant," Halsey said evasively. + + "At that time had you any suspicion that the Traders' Bank had been wrecked?" + + "No." + + "What occurred next?" + + "Mr. Bailey and I talked in the billiard-room until two-thirty." + + "And Mr. Arnold Armstrong came there, while you were talking?" + + "Yes. He came about half-past two. He rapped at the east door, and I admitted him." + + The silence in the room was intense. Mr. Jamieson's eyes never left Halsey's face. + + "Will you tell us the nature of his errand?" + + "He brought a telegram that had come to the club for Mr. Bailey." + + "He was sober?" + + "Perfectly, at that time. Not earlier." + + "Was not his apparent friendliness a change from his former attitude?" + + "Yes. I did not understand it." + + "How long did he stay?" + + "About five minutes. Then he left, by the east entrance." + + "What occurred then?" + + "We talked for a few minutes, discussing a plan Mr. Bailey had in mind. Then I went to the stables, where I kept my car, and got it out." + + "Leaving Mr. Bailey alone in the billiard-room?" + + Halsey hesitated. + + "My sister was there?" + + Mrs. Ogden Fitzhugh had the courage to turn and eye Gertrude through her lorgnon. + + "And then?" + + "I took the car along the lower road, not to disturb the household. Mr. Bailey came down across the lawn, through the hedge, and got into the car on the road." + + "Then you know nothing of Mr. Armstrong's movements after he left the house?" + + "Nothing. I read of his death Monday evening for the first time." + + "Mr. Bailey did not see him on his way across the lawn?" + + "I think not. If he had seen him he would have spoken of it." + + "Thank you. That is all. Miss Gertrude Innes." + + Gertrude's replies were fully as concise as Halsey's. Mrs. Fitzhugh subjected her to a close inspection, commencing with her hat and ending with her shoes. I flatter myself she found nothing wrong with either her gown or her manner, but poor Gertrude's testimony was the reverse of comforting. She had been summoned, she said, by her brother, after Mr. Armstrong had gone. + + She had waited in the billiard-room with Mr. Bailey, until the automobile had been ready. Then she had locked the door at the foot of the staircase, and, taking a lamp, had accompanied Mr. Bailey to the main entrance of the house, and had watched him cross the lawn. Instead of going at once to her room, she had gone back to the billiard-room for something which had been left there. The card-room and billiard-room were in darkness. She had groped around, found the article she was looking for, and was on the point of returning to her room, when she had heard some one fumbling at the lock at the east outer door. She had thought it was probably her brother, and had been about to go to the door, when she heard it open. Almost immediately there was a shot, and she had run panic-stricken through the drawing-room and had roused the house. + + "You heard no other sound?" the coroner asked. "There was no one with Mr. Armstrong when he entered?" + + "It was perfectly dark. There were no voices and I heard nothing. There was just the opening of the door, the shot, and the sound of somebody falling." + + "Then, while you went through the drawing-room and up-stairs to alarm the household, the criminal, whoever it was, could have escaped by the east door?" + + "Yes." + + "Thank you. That will do." + + I flatter myself that the coroner got little enough out of me. I saw Mr. Jamieson smiling to himself, and the coroner gave me up, after a time. I admitted I had found the body, said I had not known who it was until Mr. Jarvis told me, and ended by looking up at Barbara Fitzhugh and saying that in renting the house I had not expected to be involved in any family scandal. At which she turned purple. + + The verdict was that Arnold Armstrong had met his death at the hands of a person or persons unknown, and we all prepared to leave. Barbara Fitzhugh flounced out without waiting to speak to me, but Mr. Harton came up, as I knew he would. + + "You have decided to give up the house, I hope, Miss Innes," he said. "Mrs. Armstrong has wired me again." + + "I am not going to give it up," I maintained, "until I understand some things that are puzzling me. The day that the murderer is discovered, I will leave." + + "Then, judging by what I have heard, you will be back in the city very soon," he said. And I knew that he suspected the discredited cashier of the Traders' Bank. + + Mr. Jamieson came up to me as I was about to leave the coroner's office. + + "How is your patient?" he asked with his odd little smile. + + "I have no patient," I replied, startled. + + "I will put it in a different way, then. How is Miss Armstrong?" + + "She--she is doing very well," I stammered. + + "Good," cheerfully. "And our ghost? Is it laid?" + + "Mr. Jamieson," I said suddenly, "I wish you would do one thing: I wish you would come to Sunnyside and spend a few days there. The ghost is not laid. I want you to spend one night at least watching the circular staircase. The murder of Arnold Armstrong was a beginning, not an end." + + He looked serious. + + "Perhaps I can do it," he said. "I have been doing something else, but--well, I will come out to-night." + + We were very silent during the trip back to Sunnyside. I watched Gertrude closely and somewhat sadly. To me there was one glaring flaw in her story, and it seemed to stand out for every one to see. Arnold Armstrong had had no key, and yet she said she had locked the east door. He must have been admitted from within the house; over and over I repeated it to myself. + + That night, as gently as I could, I told Louise the story of her stepbrother's death. She sat in her big, pillow-filled chair, and heard me through without interruption. It was clear that she was shocked beyond words: if I had hoped to learn anything from her expression, I had failed. She was as much in the dark as we were. + + CHAPTER XVIII + + A HOLE IN THE WALL + + My taking the detective out to Sunnyside raised an unexpected storm of protest from Gertrude and Halsey. I was not prepared for it, and I scarcely knew how to account for it. To me Mr. Jamieson was far less formidable under my eyes where I knew what he was doing, than he was of in the city, twisting circumstances and motives to suit himself and learning what he wished to know, about events at Sunnyside, in some occult way. I was glad enough to have him there, when excitements began to come thick and fast. + + A new element was about to enter into affairs: Monday, or Tuesday at the latest, would find Doctor Walker back in his green and white house in the village, and Louise's attitude to him in the immediate future would signify Halsey's happiness or wretchedness, as it might turn out. Then, too, the return of her mother would mean, of course, that she would have to leave us, and I had become greatly attached to her. + + From the day Mr. Jamieson came to Sunnyside there was a subtle change in Gertrude's manner to me. It was elusive, difficult to analyze, but it was there. She was no longer frank with me, although I think her affection never wavered. At the time I laid the change to the fact that I had forbidden all communication with John Bailey, and had refused to acknowledge any engagement between the two. Gertrude spent much of her time wandering through the grounds, or taking long cross-country walks. Halsey played golf at the Country Club day after day, and after Louise left, as she did the following week, Mr. Jamieson and I were much together. He played a fair game of cribbage, but he cheated at solitaire. + + The night the detective arrived, Saturday, I had a talk with him. + + I told him of the experience Louise Armstrong had had the night before, on the circular staircase, and about the man who had so frightened Rosie on the drive. I saw that he thought the information was important, and to my suggestion that we put an additional lock on the east wing door he opposed a strong negative. + + "I think it probable," he said, "that our visitor will be back again, and the thing to do is to leave things exactly as they are, to avoid rousing suspicion. Then I can watch for at least a part of each night and probably Mr. Innes will help us out. I would say as little to Thomas as possible. The old man knows more than he is willing to admit." + + I suggested that Alex, the gardener, would probably be willing to help, and Mr. Jamieson undertook to make the arrangement. For one night, however, Mr. Jamieson preferred to watch alone. Apparently nothing occurred. The detective sat in absolute darkness on the lower step of the stairs, dozing, he said afterwards, now and then. Nothing could pass him in either direction, and the door in the morning remained as securely fastened as it had been the night before. And yet one of the most inexplicable occurrences of the whole affair took place that very night. + + Liddy came to my room on Sunday morning with a face as long as the moral law. She laid out my things as usual, but I missed her customary garrulousness. I was not regaled with the new cook's extravagance as to eggs, and she even forbore to mention "that Jamieson," on whose arrival she had looked with silent disfavor. + + "What's the matter, Liddy?" I asked at last. "Didn't you sleep last night?" + + "No, ma'm," she said stiffly. + + "Did you have two cups of coffee at your dinner?" I inquired. + + "No, ma'm," indignantly. + + I sat up and almost upset my hot water--I always take a cup of hot water with a pinch of salt, before I get up. It tones the stomach. + + "Liddy Allen," I said, "stop combing that switch and tell me what is wrong with you." + + Liddy heaved a sigh. + + "Girl and woman," she said, "I've been with you twenty-five years, Miss Rachel, through good temper and bad--" the idea! and what I have taken from her in the way of sulks!--"but I guess I can't stand it any longer. My trunk's packed." + + "Who packed it?" I asked, expecting from her tone to be told she had wakened to find it done by some ghostly hand. + + "I did; Miss Rachel, you won't believe me when I tell you this house is haunted. Who was it fell down the clothes chute? Who was it scared Miss Louise almost into her grave?" + + "I'm doing my best to find out," I said. "What in the world are you driving at?" She drew a long breath. + + "There is a hole in the trunk-room wall, dug out since last night. It's big enough to put your head in, and the plaster's all over the place." + + "Nonsense!" I said. "Plaster is always falling." + + But Liddy clenched that. + + "Just ask Alex," she said. "When he put the new cook's trunk there last night the wall was as smooth as this. This morning it's dug out, and there's plaster on the cook's trunk. Miss Rachel, you can get a dozen detectives and put one on every stair in the house, and you'll never catch anything. There's some things you can't handcuff." + + Liddy was right. As soon as I could, I went up to the trunk- room, which was directly over my bedroom. The plan of the upper story of the house was like that of the second floor, in the main. One end, however, over the east wing, had been left only roughly finished, the intention having been to convert it into a ball-room at some future time. The maids' rooms, trunk-room, and various store-rooms, including a large airy linen-room, opened from a long corridor, like that on the second floor. And in the trunk-room, as Liddy had said, was a fresh break in the plaster. + + Not only in the plaster, but through the lathing, the aperture extended. I reached into the opening, and three feet away, perhaps, I could touch the bricks of the partition wall. For some reason, the architect, in building the house, had left a space there that struck me, even in the surprise of the discovery, as an excellent place for a conflagration to gain headway. + + "You are sure the hole was not here yesterday?" I asked Liddy, whose expression was a mixture of satisfaction and alarm. In answer she pointed to the new cook's trunk--that necessary adjunct of the migratory domestic. The top was covered with fine white plaster, as was the floor. But there were no large pieces of mortar lying around--no bits of lathing. When I mentioned this to Liddy she merely raised her eyebrows. Being quite confident that the gap was of unholy origin, she did not concern herself with such trifles as a bit of mortar and lath. No doubt they were even then heaped neatly on a gravestone in the Casanova churchyard! + + I brought Mr. Jamieson up to see the hole in the wall, directly after breakfast. His expression was very odd when he looked at it, and the first thing he did was to try to discover what object, if any, such a hole could have. He got a piece of candle, and by enlarging the aperture a little was able to examine what lay beyond. The result was nil. The trunk-room, although heated by steam heat, like the rest of the house, boasted of a fireplace and mantel as well. The opening had been made between the flue and the outer wall of the house. There was revealed, however, on inspection, only the brick of the chimney on one side and the outer wall of the house on the other; in depth the space extended only to the flooring. The breach had been made about four feet from the floor, and inside were all the missing bits of plaster. It had been a methodical ghost. + + It was very much of a disappointment. I had expected a secret room, at the very least, and I think even Mr. Jamieson had fancied he might at last have a clue to the mystery. There was evidently nothing more to be discovered: Liddy reported that everything was serene among the servants, and that none of them had been disturbed by the noise. The maddening thing, however, was that the nightly visitor had evidently more than one way of gaining access to the house, and we made arrangements to redouble our vigilance as to windows and doors that night. + + Halsey was inclined to pooh-pooh the whole affair. He said a break in the plaster might have occurred months ago and gone unnoticed, and that the dust had probably been stirred up the day before. After all, we had to let it go at that, but we put in an uncomfortable Sunday. Gertrude went to church, and Halsey took a long walk in the morning. Louise was able to sit up, and she allowed Halsey and Liddy to assist her down-stairs late in the afternoon. The east veranda was shady, green with vines and palms, cheerful with cushions and lounging chairs. We put Louise in a steamer chair, and she sat there passively enough, her hands clasped in her lap. + + We were very silent. Halsey sat on the rail with a pipe, openly watching Louise, as she looked broodingly across the valley to the hills. There was something baffling in the girl's eyes; and gradually Halsey's boyish features lost their glow at seeing her about again, and settled into grim lines. He was like his father just then. + + We sat until late afternoon, Halsey growing more and more moody. Shortly before six, he got up and went into the house, and in a few minutes he came out and called me to the telephone. It was Anna Whitcomb, in town, and she kept me for twenty minutes, telling me the children had had the measles, and how Madame Sweeny had botched her new gown. + + When I finished, Liddy was behind me, her mouth a thin line. + + "I wish you would try to look cheerful, Liddy," I groaned, "your face would sour milk." But Liddy seldom replied to my gibes. She folded her lips a little tighter. + + "He called her up," she said oracularly, "he called her up, and asked her to keep you at the telephone, so he could talk to Miss Louise. A THANKLESS CHILD IS SHARPER THAN A SERPENT'S TOOTH." + + "Nonsense!" I said bruskly. "I might have known enough to leave them. It's a long time since you and I were in love, Liddy, and--we forget." + + Liddy sniffed. + + "No man ever made a fool of me," she replied virtuously. + + "Well, something did," I retorted. + + CHAPTER XIX + + CONCERNING THOMAS + + "Mr. Jamieson," I said, when we found ourselves alone after dinner that night, "the inquest yesterday seemed to me the merest recapitulation of things that were already known. It developed nothing new beyond the story of Doctor Stewart's, and that was volunteered." + + "An inquest is only a necessary formality, Miss Innes," he replied. "Unless a crime is committed in the open, the inquest does nothing beyond getting evidence from witnesses while events are still in their minds. The police step in later. You and I both know how many important things never transpired. For instance: the dead man had no key, and yet Miss Gertrude testified to a fumbling at the lock, and then the opening of the door. The piece of evidence you mention, Doctor Stewart's story, is one of those things we have to take cautiously: the doctor has a patient who wears black and does not raise her veil. Why, it is the typical mysterious lady! Then the good doctor comes across Arnold Armstrong, who was a graceless scamp--de mortuis--what's the rest of it?--and he is quarreling with a lady in black. Behold, says the doctor, they are one and the same." + + "Why was Mr. Bailey not present at the inquest?" + + The detective's expression was peculiar. + + "Because his physician testified that he is ill, and unable to leave his bed." + + "Ill!" I exclaimed. "Why, neither Halsey nor Gertrude has told me that." + + "There are more things than that, Miss Innes, that are puzzling. Bailey gives the impression that he knew nothing of the crash at the bank until he read it in the paper Monday night, and that he went back and surrendered himself immediately. I do not believe it. Jonas, the watchman at the Traders' Bank, tells a different story. He says that on the Thursday night before, about eight- thirty, Bailey went back to the bank. Jonas admitted him, and he says the cashier was in a state almost of collapse. Bailey worked until midnight, then he closed the vault and went away. The occurrence was so unusual that the watchman pondered over it an the rest of the night. What did Bailey do when he went back to the Knickerbocker apartments that night? He packed a suit-case ready for instant departure. But he held off too long; he waited for something. My personal opinion is that he waited to see Miss Gertrude before flying from the country. Then, when he had shot down Arnold Armstrong that night, he had to choose between two evils. He did the thing that would immediately turn public opinion in his favor, and surrendered himself, as an innocent man. The strongest thing against him is his preparation for flight, and his deciding to come back after the murder of Arnold Armstrong. He was shrewd enough to disarm suspicion as to the graver charge?" + + The evening dragged along slowly. Mrs. Watson came to my bedroom before I went to bed and asked if I had any arnica. She showed me a badly swollen hand, with reddish streaks running toward the elbow; she said it was the hand she had hurt the night of the murder a week before, and that she had not slept well since. It looked to me as if it might be serious, and I told her to let Doctor Stewart see it. + + The next morning Mrs. Watson went up to town on the eleven train, and was admitted to the Charity Hospital. She was suffering from blood-poisoning. I fully meant to go up and see her there, but other things drove her entirely from my mind. I telephoned to the hospital that day, however, and ordered a private room for her, and whatever comforts she might be allowed. + + Mrs. Armstrong arrived Monday evening with her husband's body, and the services were set for the next day. The house on Chestnut Street, in town, had been opened, and Tuesday morning Louise left us to go home. She sent for me before she went, and I saw she had been crying. + + "How can I thank you, Miss Innes?" she said. "You have taken me on faith, and--you have not asked me any questions. Some time, perhaps, I can tell you; and when that time comes, you will all despise me,--Halsey, too." + + I tried to tell her how glad I was to have had her but there was something else she wanted to say. She said it finally, when she had bade a constrained good-by to Halsey and the car was waiting at the door. + + "Miss Innes," she said in a low tone, "if they--if there is any attempt made to--to have you give up the house, do it, if you possibly can. I am afraid--to have you stay." + + That was all. Gertrude went into town with her and saw her safely home. She reported a decided coolness in the greeting between Louise and her mother, and that Doctor Walker was there, apparently in charge of the arrangements for the funeral. Halsey disappeared shortly after Louise left and came home about nine that night, muddy and tired. As for Thomas, he went around dejected and sad, and I saw the detective watching him closely at dinner. Even now I wonder--what did Thomas know? What did he suspect? + + At ten o'clock the household had settled down for the night. Liddy, who was taking Mrs. Watson's place, had finished examining the tea-towels and the corners of the shelves in the cooling- room, and had gone to bed. Alex, the gardener, had gone heavily up the circular staircase to his room, and Mr. Jamieson was examining the locks of the windows. Halsey dropped into a chair in the living-room, and stared moodily ahead. Once he roused. + + "What sort of a looking chap is that Walker, Gertrude?" he asked! + + "Rather tall, very dark, smooth-shaven. Not bad looking," Gertrude said, putting down the book she had been pretending to read. Halsey kicked a taboret viciously. + + "Lovely place this village must be in the winter," he said irrelevantly. "A girl would be buried alive here." + + It was then some one rapped at the knocker on the heavy front door. Halsey got up leisurely and opened it, admitting Warner. He was out of breath from running, and he looked half abashed. + + "I am sorry to disturb you," he said. "But I didn't know what else to do. It's about Thomas." + + "What about Thomas?" I asked. Mr. Jamieson had come into the hall and we all stared at Warner. + + "He's acting queer," Warner explained. "He's sitting down there on the edge of the porch, and he says he has seen a ghost. The old man looks bad, too; he can scarcely speak." + + "He's as full of superstition as an egg is of meat," I said. "Halsey, bring some whisky and we will all go down." + + No one moved to get the whisky, from which I judged there were three pocket flasks ready for emergency. Gertrude threw a shawl around my shoulders, and we all started down over the hill: I had made so many nocturnal excursions around the place that I knew my way perfectly. But Thomas was not on the veranda, nor was he inside the house. The men exchanged significant glances, and Warner got a lantern. + + "He can't have gone far," he said. "He was trembling so that he couldn't stand, when I left." + + Jamieson and Halsey together made the round of the lodge, occasionally calling the old man by name. But there was no response. No Thomas came, bowing and showing his white teeth through the darkness. I began to be vaguely uneasy, for the first time. Gertrude, who was never nervous in the dark, went alone down the drive to the gate, and stood there, looking along the yellowish line of the road, while I waited on the tiny veranda. + + Warner was puzzled. He came around to the edge of the veranda and stood looking at it as if it ought to know and explain. + + "He might have stumbled into the house," he said, "but he could not have climbed the stairs. Anyhow, he's not inside or outside, that I can see." The other members of the party had come back now, and no one had found any trace of the old man. His pipe, still warm, rested on the edge of the rail, and inside on the table his old gray hat showed that its owner had not gone far. + + He was not far, after all. From the table my eyes traveled around the room, and stopped at the door of a closet. I hardly know what impulse moved me, but I went in and turned the knob. It burst open with the impetus of a weight behind it, and something fell partly forward in a heap on the floor. It was Thomas--Thomas without a mark of injury on him, and dead. + + CHAPTER XX + + DOCTOR WALKER'S WARNING + + Warner was on his knees in a moment, fumbling at the old man's collar to loosen it, but Halsey caught his hand. + + "Let him alone?" he said. "You can't help him; he is dead." + + We stood there, each avoiding the other's eyes; we spoke low and reverently in the presence of death, and we tacitly avoided any mention of the suspicion that was in every mind. When Mr. Jamieson had finished his cursory examination, he got up and dusted the knees of his trousers. + + "There is no sign of injury," he said, and I know I, for one, drew a long breath of relief. "From what Warner says and from his hiding in the closet, I should say he was scared to death. Fright and a weak heart, together." + + "But what could have done it?" Gertrude asked. "He was all right this evening at dinner. Warner, what did he say when you found him on the porch?" + + Warner looked shaken: his honest, boyish face was colorless. + + "Just what I told you, Miss Innes. He'd been reading the paper down-stairs; I had put up the car, and, feeling sleepy, I came down to the lodge to go to bed. As I went up-stairs, Thomas put down the paper and, taking his pipe, went out on the porch. Then I heard an exclamation from him." + + "What did he say?" demanded Jamieson. + + "I couldn't hear, but his voice was strange; it sounded startled. I waited for him to call out again, but he did not, so I went down-stairs. He was sitting on the porch step, looking straight ahead, as if he saw something among the trees across the road. And he kept mumbling about having seen a ghost. He looked queer, and I tried to get him inside, but he wouldn't move. Then I thought I'd better go up to the house." + + "Didn't he say anything else you could understand?" I asked. + + "He said something about the grave giving up its dead." + + Mr. Jamieson was going through the old man's pockets, and Gertrude was composing his arms, folding them across his white shirt-bosom, always so spotless. + + Mr. Jamieson looked up at me. + + "What was that you said to me, Miss Innes, about the murder at the house being a beginning and not an end? By jove, I believe you were right!" + + In the course of his investigations the detective had come to the inner pocket of the dead butler's black coat. Here he found some things that interested him. One was a small flat key, with a red cord tied to it, and the other was a bit of white paper, on which was written something in Thomas' cramped hand. Mr. Jamieson read it: then he gave it to me. It was an address in fresh ink-- + + LUCIEN WALLACE, 14 Elm Street, Richfield. + + As the card went around, I think both the detective and I watched for any possible effect it might have, but, beyond perplexity, there seemed to be none. + + "Richfield!" Gertrude exclaimed. "Why, Elm Street is the main street; don't you remember, Halsey?" + + "Lucien Wallace!" Halsey said. "That is the child Stewart spoke of at the inquest." + + Warner, with his mechanic's instinct, had reached for the key. What he said was not a surprise. + + "Yale lock," he said. "Probably a key to the east entry." + + There was no reason why Thomas, an old and trusted servant, should not have had a key to that particular door, although the servants' entry was in the west wing. But I had not known of this key, and it opened up a new field of conjecture. Just now, however, there were many things to be attended to, and, leaving Warner with the body, we all went back to the house. Mr. Jamieson walked with me, while Halsey and Gertrude followed. + + "I suppose I shall have to notify the Armstrongs," I said. "They will know if Thomas had any people and how to reach them. Of course, I expect to defray the expenses of the funeral, but his relatives must be found. What do you think frightened him, Mr. Jamieson?" + + "It is hard to say," he replied slowly, "but I think we may be certain it was fright, and that he was hiding from something. I am sorry in more than one way: I have always believed that Thomas knew something, or suspected something, that he would not tell. Do you know hour much money there was in that worn-out wallet of his? Nearly a hundred dollars! Almost two months' wages--and yet those darkies seldom have a penny. Well--what Thomas knew will be buried with him." + + Halsey suggested that the grounds be searched, but Mr. Jamieson vetoed the suggestion. + + "You would find nothing," he said. "A person clever enough to get into Sunnyside and tear a hole in the wall, while I watched down-stairs, is not to be found by going around the shrubbery with a lantern." + + With the death of Thomas, I felt that a climax had come in affairs at Sunnyside. The night that followed was quiet enough. Halsey watched at the foot of the staircase, and a complicated system of bolts on the other doors seemed to be effectual. + + Once in the night I wakened and thought I heard the tapping again. But all was quiet, and I had reached the stage where I refused to be disturbed for minor occurrences. + + The Armstrongs were notified of Thomas' death, and I had my first interview with Doctor Walker as a result. He came up early the next morning, just as we finished breakfast, in a professional looking car with a black hood. I found him striding up and down the living-room, and, in spite of my preconceived dislike, I had to admit that the man was presentable. A big fellow he was, tall and dark, as Gertrude had said, smooth-shaven and erect, with prominent features and a square jaw. He was painfully spruce in his appearance, and his manner was almost obtrusively polite. + + "I must make a double excuse for this early visit, Miss Innes," he said as he sat down. The chair was lower than he expected, and his dignity required collecting before he went on. "My professional duties are urgent and long neglected, and"--a fall to the every-day manner--"something must be done about that body." + + "Yes," I said, sitting on the edge of my chair. "I merely wished the address of Thomas' people. You might have telephoned, if you were busy." + + He smiled. + + "I wished to see you about something else," he said. "As for Thomas, it is Mrs. Armstrong's wish that you would allow her to attend to the expense. About his relatives, I have already notified his brother, in the village. It was heart disease, I think. Thomas always had a bad heart." + + "Heart disease and fright," I said, still on the edge of my chair. But the doctor had no intention of leaving. + + "I understand you have a ghost up here, and that you have the house filled with detectives to exorcise it," he said. + + For some reason I felt I was being "pumped," as Halsey says. "You have been misinformed," I replied. + + "What, no ghost, no detectives!" he said, still with his smile. "What a disappointment to the village!" + + I resented his attempt at playfulness. It had been anything but a joke to us. + + "Doctor Walker," I said tartly, "I fail to see any humor in the situation. Since I came here, one man has been shot, and another one has died from shock. There have been intruders in the house, and strange noises. If that is funny, there is something wrong with my sense of humor." + + "You miss the point," he said, still good-naturedly. "The thing that is funny, to me, is that you insist on remaining here, under the circumstances. I should think nothing would keep you." + + "You are mistaken. Everything that occurs only confirms my resolution to stay until the mystery is cleared." + + "I have a message for you, Miss Innes," he said, rising at last. "Mrs. Armstrong asked me to thank you for your kindness to Louise, whose whim, occurring at the time it did, put her to great inconvenience. Also--and this is a delicate matter--she asked me to appeal to your natural sympathy for her, at this time, and to ask you if you will not reconsider your decision about the house. Sunnyside is her home; she loves it dearly, and just now she wishes to retire here for quiet and peace." + + "She must have had a change of heart," I said, ungraciously enough. "Louise told me her mother despised the place. Besides, this is no place for quiet and peace just now. Anyhow, doctor, while I don't care to force an issue, I shall certainly remain here, for a time at least." + + "For how long?" he asked. + + "My lease is for six months. I shall stay until some explanation is found for certain things. My own family is implicated now, and I shall do everything to clear the mystery of Arnold Armstrong's murder." + + The doctor stood looking down, slapping his gloves thoughtfully against the palm of a well-looked-after hand. + + "You say there have been intruders in the house?" he asked. "You are sure of that, Miss Innes?" + + "Certain." + + "In what part?" + + "In the east wing." + + "Can you tell me when these intrusions occurred, and what the purpose seemed to be? Was it robbery?" + + "No," I said decidedly. "As to time, once on Friday night a week ago, again the following night, when Arnold Armstrong was murdered, and again last Friday night." + + The doctor looked serious. He seemed to be debating some question in his mind, and to reach a decision. + + "Miss Innes," he said, "I am in a peculiar position; I understand your attitude, of course; but--do you think you are wise? Ever since you have come here there have been hostile demonstrations against you and your family. I'm not a croaker, but--take a warning. Leave before anything occurs that will cause you a lifelong regret." + + "I am willing to take the responsibility," I said coldly. + + I think he gave me up then as a poor proposition. He asked to be shown where Arnold Armstrong's body had been found, and I took him there. He scrutinized the whole place carefully, examining the stairs and the lock. When he had taken a formal farewell I was confident of one thing. Doctor Walker would do anything he could to get me away from Sunnyside. + + CHAPTER XXI + + FOURTEEN ELM STREET + + It was Monday evening when we found the body of poor old Thomas. Monday night had been uneventful; things were quiet at the house and the peculiar circumstances of the old man's death had been carefully kept from the servants. Rosie took charge of the dining-room and pantry, in the absence of a butler, and, except for the warning of the Casanova doctor, everything breathed of peace. + + Affairs at the Traders' Bank were progressing slowly. The failure had hit small stock-holders very hard, the minister of the little Methodist chapel in Casanova among them. He had received as a legacy from an uncle a few shares of stock in the Traders' Bank, and now his joy was turned to bitterness: he had to sacrifice everything he had in the world, and his feeling against Paul Armstrong, dead, as he was, must have been bitter in the extreme. He was asked to officiate at the simple services when the dead banker's body was interred in Casanova churchyard, but the good man providentially took cold, and a substitute was called in. + + A few days after the services he called to see me, a kind-faced little man, in a very bad frock-coat and laundered tie. I think he was uncertain as to my connection with the Armstrong family, and dubious whether I considered Mr. Armstrong's taking away a matter for condolence or congratulation. He was not long in doubt. + + I liked the little man. He had known Thomas well, and had promised to officiate at the services in the rickety African Zion Church. He told me more of himself than he knew, and before he left, I astonished him--and myself, I admit--by promising a new carpet for his church. He was much affected, and I gathered that he had yearned over his ragged chapel as a mother over a half- clothed child. + + "You are laying up treasure, Miss Innes," he said brokenly, "where neither moth nor rust corrupt, nor thieves break through and steal." + + "It is certainly a safer place than Sunnyside," I admitted. And the thought of the carpet permitted him to smile. He stood just inside the doorway, looking from the luxury of the house to the beauty of the view. + + "The rich ought to be good," he said wistfully. "They have so much that is beautiful, and beauty is ennobling. And yet--while I ought to say nothing but good of the dead--Mr. Armstrong saw nothing of this fair prospect. To him these trees and lawns were not the work of God. They were property, at so much an acre. He loved money, Miss Innes. He offered up everything to his golden calf. Not power, not ambition, was his fetish: it was money." Then he dropped his pulpit manner, and, turning to me with his engaging smile: "In spite of all this luxury," he said, "the country people here have a saying that Mr. Paul Armstrong could sit on a dollar and see all around it. Unlike the summer people, he gave neither to the poor nor to the church. He loved money for its own sake." + + "And there are no pockets in shrouds!" I said cynically. + + I sent him home in the car, with a bunch of hot-house roses for his wife, and he was quite overwhelmed. As for me, I had a generous glow that was cheap at the price of a church carpet. I received less gratification--and less gratitude--when I presented the new silver communion set to St. Barnabas. + + I had a great many things to think about in those days. I made out a list of questions and possible answers, but I seemed only to be working around in a circle. I always ended where I began. The list was something like this: + + Who had entered the house the night before the murder? + + Thomas claimed it was Mr. Bailey, whom he had seen on the foot- path, and who owned the pearl cuff-link. + + Why did Arnold Armstrong come back after he had left the house the night he was killed? + + No answer. Was it on the mission Louise had mentioned? + + Who admitted him? + + Gertrude said she had locked the east entry. There was no key on the dead man or in the door. He must have been admitted from within. + + Who had been locked in the clothes chute? + + Some one unfamiliar with the house, evidently. Only two people missing from the household, Rosie and Gertrude. Rosie had been at the lodge. Therefore--but was it Gertrude? Might it not have been the mysterious intruder again? + + Who had accosted Rosie on the drive? + + Again--perhaps the nightly visitor. It seemed more likely some one who suspected a secret at the lodge. Was Louise under surveillance? + + Who had passed Louise on the circular staircase? + + Could it have been Thomas? The key to the east entry made this a possibility. But why was he there, if it were indeed he? + + Who had made the hole in the trunk-room wall? + + It was not vandalism. It had been done quietly, and with deliberate purpose. If I had only known how to read the purpose of that gaping aperture what I might have saved in anxiety and mental strain! + + Why had Louise left her people and come home to hide at the lodge? + + There was no answer, as yet, to this, or to the next questions. + + Why did both she and Doctor Walker warn us away from the house? + + Who was Lucien Wallace? + + What did Thomas see in the shadows the night he died? + + What was the meaning of the subtle change in Gertrude? + + Was Jack Bailey an accomplice or a victim in the looting of the Traders' Bank? + + What all-powerful reason made Louise determine to marry Doctor Walker? + + The examiners were still working on the books of the Traders' Bank, and it was probable that several weeks would elapse before everything was cleared up. The firm of expert accountants who had examined the books some two months before testified that every bond, every piece of valuable paper, was there at that time. It had been shortly after their examination that the president, who had been in bad health, had gone to California. Mr. Bailey was still ill at the Knickerbocker, and in this, as in other ways, Gertrude's conduct puzzled me. She seemed indifferent, refused to discuss matters pertaining to the bank, and never, to my knowledge, either wrote to him or went to see him. + + Gradually I came to the conclusion that Gertrude, with the rest of the world, believed her lover guilty, and--although I believed it myself, for that matter--I was irritated by her indifference. Girls in my day did not meekly accept the public's verdict as to the man they loved. + + But presently something occurred that made me think that under Gertrude's surface calm there was a seething flood of emotions. + + Tuesday morning the detective made a careful search of the grounds, but he found nothing. In the afternoon he disappeared, and it was late that night when he came home. He said he would have to go back to the city the following day, and arranged with Halsey and Alex to guard the house. + + Liddy came to me on Wednesday morning with her black silk apron held up like a bag, and her eyes big with virtuous wrath. It was the day of Thomas' funeral in the village, and Alex and I were in the conservatory cutting flowers for the old man's casket. Liddy is never so happy as when she is making herself wretched, and now her mouth drooped while her eyes were triumphant. + + "I always said there were plenty of things going on here, right under our noses, that we couldn't see," she said, holding out her apron. + + "I don't see with my nose," I remarked. "What have you got there?" + + Liddy pushed aside a half-dozen geranium pots, and in the space thus cleared she dumped the contents of her apron--a handful of tiny bits of paper. Alex had stepped back, but I saw him watching her curiously. + + "Wait a moment, Liddy," I said. "You have been going through the library paper-basket again!" + + Liddy was arranging her bits of paper with the skill of long practice and paid no attention. + + "Did it ever occur to you," I went on, putting my hand over the scraps, "that when people tear up their correspondence, it is for the express purpose of keeping it from being read?" + + "If they wasn't ashamed of it they wouldn't take so much trouble, Miss Rachel," Liddy said oracularly. "More than that, with things happening every day, I consider it my duty. If you don't read and act on this, I shall give it to that Jamieson, and I'll venture he'll not go back to the city to-day." + + That decided me. If the scraps had anything to do with the mystery ordinary conventions had no value. So Liddy arranged the scraps, like working out one of the puzzle-pictures children play with, and she did it with much the same eagerness. When it was finished she stepped aside while I read it. + + "Wednesday night, nine o'clock. Bridge," I real aloud. Then, aware of Alex's stare, I turned on Liddy. + + "Some one is to play bridge to-night at nine o'clock," I said. "Is that your business, or mine?" + + Liddy was aggrieved. She was about to reply when I scooped up the pieces and left the conservatory. + + "Now then," I said, when we got outside, "will you tell me why you choose to take Alex into your confidence? He's no fool. Do you suppose he thinks any one in this house is going to play bridge to-night at nine o'clock, by appointment! I suppose you have shown it in the kitchen, and instead of my being able to slip down to the bridge to-night quietly, and see who is there, the whole household will be going in a procession." + + "Nobody knows it," Liddy said humbly. "I found it in the basket in Miss Gertrude's dressing-room. Look at the back of the sheet." I turned over some of the scraps, and, sure enough, it was a blank deposit slip from the Traders' Bank. So Gertrude was going to meet Jack Bailey that night by the bridge! And I had thought he was ill! It hardly seemed like the action of an innocent man--this avoidance of daylight, and of his fiancee's people. I decided to make certain, however, by going to the bridge that night. + + After luncheon Mr. Jamieson suggested that I go with him to Richfield, and I consented. + + "I am inclined to place more faith in Doctor Stewart's story," he said, "since I found that scrap in old Thomas' pocket. It bears out the statement that the woman with the child, and the woman who quarreled with Armstrong, are the same. It looks as if Thomas had stumbled on to some affair which was more or less discreditable to the dead man, and, with a certain loyalty to the family, had kept it to himself. Then, you see, your story about the woman at the card-room window begins to mean something. It is the nearest approach to anything tangible that we have had yet." + + Warner took us to Richfield in the car. It was about twenty-five miles by railroad, but by taking a series of atrociously rough short cuts we got there very quickly. It was a pretty little town, on the river, and back on the hill I could see the Mortons' big country house, where Halsey and Gertrude had been staying until the night of the murder. + + Elm Street was almost the only street, and number fourteen was easily found. It was a small white house, dilapidated without having gained anything picturesque, with a low window and a porch only a foot or so above the bit of a lawn. There was a baby- carriage in the path, and from a swing at the side came the sound of conflict. Three small children were disputing vociferously, and a faded young woman with a kindly face was trying to hush the clamor. When she saw us she untied her gingham apron and came around to the porch. + + "Good afternoon," I said. Jamieson lifted his hat, without speaking. "I came to inquire about a child named Lucien Wallace." + + "I am glad you have come," she said. "In spite of the other children, I think the little fellow is lonely. We thought perhaps his mother would be here to-day." + + Mr. Jamieson stepped forward. + + "You are Mrs. Tate?" I wondered how the detective knew. + + "Yes, sir." + + "Mrs. Tate, we want to make some inquiries. Perhaps in the house--" + + "Come right in," she said hospitably. And soon we were in the little shabby parlor, exactly like a thousand of its prototypes. Mrs. Tate sat uneasily, her hands folded in her lap. + + "How long has Lucien been here?" Mr. Jamieson asked. + + "Since a week ago last Friday. His mother paid one week's board in advance; the other has not been paid." + + "Was he ill when he came?" + + "No, sir, not what you'd call sick. He was getting better of typhoid, she said, and he's picking up fine." + + "Will you tell me his mother's name and address?" + + "That's the trouble," the young woman said, knitting her brows. "She gave her name as Mrs. Wallace, and said she had no address. She was looking for a boarding-house in town. She said she worked in a department store, and couldn't take care of the child properly, and he needed fresh air and milk. I had three children of my own, and one more didn't make much difference in the work, but--I wish she would pay this week's board." + + "Did she say what store it was?" + + "No, sir, but all the boy's clothes came from King's. He has far too fine clothes for the country." + + There was a chorus of shouts and shrill yells from the front door, followed by the loud stamping of children's feet and a throaty "whoa, whoa!" Into the room came a tandem team of two chubby youngsters, a boy and a girl, harnessed with a clothes- line, and driven by a laughing boy of about seven, in tan overalls and brass buttons. The small driver caught my attention at once: he was a beautiful child, and, although he showed traces of recent severe illness, his skin had now the clear transparency of health. + + "Whoa, Flinders," he shouted. "You're goin' to smash the trap." + + Mr. Jamieson coaxed him over by holding out a lead-pencil, striped blue and yellow. + + "Now, then," he said, when the boy had taken the lead-pencil and was testing its usefulness on the detective's cuff, "now then, I'll bet you don't know what your name is!" + + "I do," said the boy. "Lucien Wallace." + + "Great! And what's your mother's name?" + + "Mother, of course. What's your mother's name?" And he pointed to me! I am going to stop wearing black: it doubles a woman's age. + + "And where did you live before you came here?" The detective was polite enough not to smile. + + "Grossmutter," he said. And I saw Mr. Jamieson's eyebrows go up. + + "German," he commented. "Well, young man, you don't seem to know much about yourself." + + "I've tried it all week," Mrs. Tate broke in. "The boy knows a word or two of German, but he doesn't know where he lived, or anything about himself." + + Mr. Jamieson wrote something on a card and gave it to her. + + "Mrs. Tate," he said, "I want you to do something. Here is some money for the telephone call. The instant the boy's mother appears here, call up that number and ask for the person whose name is there. You can run across to the drug-store on an errand and do it quietly. Just say, `The lady has come.'" + + "`The lady has come,'" repeated Mrs. Tate. "Very well, sir, and I hope it will be soon. The milk-bill alone is almost double what it was." + + "How much is the child's board?" I asked. + + "Three dollars a week, including his washing." + + "Very well," I said. "Now, Mrs. Tate, I am going to pay last week's board and a week in advance. If the mother comes, she is to know nothing of this visit--absolutely not a word, and, in return for your silence, you may use this money for--something for your own children." + + Her tired, faded face lighted up, and I saw her glance at the little Tates' small feet. Shoes, I divined--the feet of the genteel poor being almost as expensive as their stomachs. + + As we went back Mr. Jamieson made only one remark: I think he was laboring under the weight of a great disappointment. + + "Is King's a children's outfitting place?" he asked. + + "Not especially. It is a general department store." + + He was silent after that, but he went to the telephone as soon as we got home, and called up King and Company, in the city. + + After a time he got the general manager, and they talked for some time. When Mr. Jamieson hung up the receiver he turned to me. + + "The plot thickens," he said with his ready smile. "There are four women named Wallace at King's none of them married, and none over twenty. I think I shall go up to the city to-night. I want to go to the Children's Hospital. But before I go, Miss Innes, I wish you would be more frank with me than you have been yet. I want you to show me the revolver you picked up in the tulip bed." + + So he had known all along! + + "It WAS a revolver, Mr. Jamieson," I admitted, cornered at last, "but I can not show it to you. It is not in my possession." + + CHAPTER XXII + + A LADDER OUT OF PLACE + + At dinner Mr. Jamieson suggested sending a man out in his place for a couple of days, but Halsey was certain there would be nothing more, and felt that he and Alex could manage the situation. The detective went back to town early in the evening, and by nine o'clock Halsey, who had been playing golf--as a man does anything to take his mind away from trouble--was sleeping soundly on the big leather davenport in the living-room. + + I sat and knitted, pretending not to notice when Gertrude got up and wandered out into the starlight. As soon as I was satisfied that she had gone, however, I went out cautiously. I had no intention of eavesdropping, but I wanted to be certain that it was Jack Bailey she was meeting. Too many things had occurred in which Gertrude was, or appeared to be, involved, to allow anything to be left in question. + + I went slowly across the lawn, skirted the hedge to a break not far from the lodge, and found myself on the open road. Perhaps a hundred feet to the left the path led across the valley to the Country Club, and only a little way off was the foot-bridge over Casanova Creek. But just as I was about to turn down the path I heard steps coming toward me, and I shrank into the bushes. It was Gertrude, going back quickly toward the house. + + I was surprised. I waited until she had had time to get almost to the house before I started. And then I stepped back again into the shadows. The reason why Gertrude had not kept her tryst was evident. Leaning on the parapet of the bridge in the moonlight, and smoking a pipe, was Alex, the gardener. I could have throttled Liddy for her carelessness in reading the torn note where he could hear. And I could cheerfully have choked Alex to death for his audacity. + + But there was no help for it: I turned and followed Gertrude slowly back to the house. + + The frequent invasions of the house had effectually prevented any relaxation after dusk. We had redoubled our vigilance as to bolts and window-locks but, as Mr. Jamieson had suggested, we allowed the door at the east entry to remain as before, locked by the Yale lock only. To provide only one possible entrance for the invader, and to keep a constant guard in the dark at the foot of the circular staircase, seemed to be the only method. + + In the absence of the detective, Alex and Halsey arranged to change off, Halsey to be on duty from ten to two, and Alex from two until six. Each man was armed, and, as an additional precaution, the one off duty slept in a room near the head of the circular staircase and kept his door open, to be ready for emergency. + + These arrangements were carefully kept from the servants, who were only commencing to sleep at night, and who retired, one and all, with barred doors and lamps that burned full until morning. + + The house was quiet again Wednesday night. It was almost a week since Louise had encountered some one on the stairs, and it was four days since the discovery of the hole in the trunk-room wall. + + Arnold Armstrong and his father rested side by side in the Casanova churchyard, and at the Zion African Church, on the hill, a new mound marked the last resting-place of poor Thomas. + + Louise was with her mother in town, and, beyond a polite note of thanks to me, we had heard nothing from her. Doctor Walker had taken up his practice again, and we saw him now and then flying past along the road, always at top speed. The murder of Arnold Armstrong was still unavenged, and I remained firm in the position I had taken--to stay at Sunnyside until the thing was at least partly cleared. + + And yet, for all its quiet, it was on Wednesday night that perhaps the boldest attempt was made to enter the house. On Thursday afternoon the laundress sent word she would like to speak to me, and I saw her in my private sitting-room, a small room beyond the dressing-room. + + Mary Anne was embarrassed. She had rolled down her sleeves and tied a white apron around her waist, and she stood making folds in it with fingers that were red and shiny from her soap-suds. + + "Well, Mary," I said encouragingly, "what's the matter? Don't dare to tell me the soap is out." + + "No, ma'm, Miss Innes." She had a nervous habit of looking first at my one eye and then at the other, her own optics shifting ceaselessly, right eye, left eye, right eye, until I found myself doing the same thing. "No, ma'm. I was askin' did you want the ladder left up the clothes chute?" + + "The what?" I screeched, and was sorry the next minute. Seeing her suspicions were verified, Mary Anne had gone white, and stood with her eyes shifting more wildly than ever. + + "There's a ladder up the clothes chute, Miss Innes," she said. "It's up that tight I can't move it, and I didn't like to ask for help until I spoke to you." + + It was useless to dissemble; Mary Anne knew now as well as I did that the ladder had no business to be there. I did the best I could, however. I put her on the defensive at once. + + "Then you didn't lock the laundry last night?" + + "I locked it tight, and put the key in the kitchen on its nail." + + "Very well, then you forgot a window." + + Mary Anne hesitated. + + "Yes'm," she said at last. "I thought I locked them all, but there was one open this morning." + + I went out of the room and down the hall, followed by Mary Anne. The door into the clothes chute was securely bolted, and when I opened it I saw the evidence of the woman's story. A pruning- ladder had been brought from where it had lain against the stable and now stood upright in the clothes shaft, its end resting against the wall between the first and second floors. + + I turned to Mary. + + "This is due to your carelessness," I said. "If we had all been murdered in our beds it would have been your fault." She shivered. "Now, not a word of this through the house, and send Alex to me." + + The effect on Alex was to make him apoplectic with rage, and with it all I fancied there was an element of satisfaction. As I look back, so many things are plain to me that I wonder I could not see at the time. It is all known now, and yet the whole thing was so remarkable that perhaps my stupidity was excusable. + + Alex leaned down the chute and examined the ladder carefully. + + "It is caught," he said with a grim smile. "The fools, to have left a warning like that! The only trouble is, Miss Innes, they won't be apt to come back for a while." + + "I shouldn't regard that in the light of a calamity," I replied. + + Until late that evening Halsey and Alex worked at the chute. They forced down the ladder at last, and put a new bolt on the door. As for myself, I sat and wondered if I had a deadly enemy, intent on my destruction. + + I was growing more and more nervous. Liddy had given up all pretense at bravery, and slept regularly in my dressing-room on the couch, with a prayer-book and a game knife from the kitchen under her pillow, thus preparing for both the natural and the supernatural. That was the way things stood that Thursday night, when I myself took a hand in the struggle. + + CHAPTER XXIII + + WHILE THE STABLES BURNED + + About nine o'clock that night Liddy came into the living-room and reported that one of the housemaids declared she had seen two men slip around the corner of the stable. Gertrude had been sitting staring in front of her, jumping at every sound. Now she turned on Liddy pettishly. + + "I declare, Liddy," she said, "you are a bundle of nerves. What if Eliza did see some men around the stable? It may have been Warner and Alex." + + "Warner is in the kitchen, miss," Liddy said with dignity. "And if you had come through what I have, you would be a bundle of nerves, too. Miss Rachel, I'd be thankful if you'd give me my month's wages to-morrow. I'll be going to my sister's." + + "Very well," I said, to her evident amazement. "I will make out the check. Warner can take you down to the noon train." + + Liddy's face was really funny. + + "You'll have a nice time at your sister's," I went on. "Five children, hasn't she?" + + "That's it," Liddy said, suddenly bursting into tears. "Send me away, after all these years, and your new shawl only half done, and nobody knowin' how to fix the water for your bath." + + "It's time I learned to prepare my own bath." I was knitting complacently. But Gertrude got up and put her arms around Liddy's shaking shoulders. + + "You are two big babies," she said soothingly. "Neither one of you could get along for an hour without the other. So stop quarreling and be good. Liddy, go right up and lay out Aunty's night things. She is going to bed early." + + After Liddy had gone I began to think about the men at the stable, and I grew more and more anxious. Halsey was aimlessly knocking the billiard-balls around in the billiard-room, and I called to him. + + "Halsey," I said when he sauntered in, "is there a policeman in Casanova?" + + "Constable," he said laconically. "Veteran of the war, one arm; in office to conciliate the G. A. R. element. Why?" + + "Because I am uneasy to-night." And I told him what Liddy had said. "Is there any one you can think of who could be relied on to watch the outside of the house to-night?" + + "We might get Sam Bohannon from the club," he said thoughtfully. "It wouldn't be a bad scheme. He's a smart darky, and with his mouth shut and his shirt-front covered, you couldn't see him a yard off in the dark." + + Halsey conferred with Alex, and the result, in an hour, was Sam. His instructions were simple. There had been numerous attempts to break into the house; it was the intention, not to drive intruders away, but to capture them. If Sam saw anything suspicious outside, he was to tap at the east entry, where Alex and Halsey were to alternate in keeping watch through the night. + + It was with a comfortable feeling of security that I went to bed that night. The door between Gertrude's rooms and mine had been opened, and, with the doors into the hall bolted, we were safe enough. Although Liddy persisted in her belief that doors would prove no obstacles to our disturbers. + + As before, Halsey watched the east entry from ten until two. He had an eye to comfort, and he kept vigil in a heavy oak chair, very large and deep. We went up-stairs rather early, and through the open door Gertrude and I kept up a running fire of conversation. Liddy was brushing my hair, and Gertrude was doing her own, with a long free sweep of her strong round arms. + + "Did you know Mrs. Armstrong and Louise are in the village?" she called. + + "No," I replied, startled. "How did you hear it?" + + "I met the oldest Stewart girl to-day, the doctor's daughter, and she told me they had not gone back to town after the funeral. They went directly to that little yellow house next to Doctor Walker's, and are apparently settled there. They took the house furnished for the summer." + + "Why, it's a bandbox," I said. "I can't imagine Fanny Armstrong in such a place." + + "It's true, nevertheless. Ella Stewart says Mrs. Armstrong has aged terribly, and looks as if she is hardly able to walk." + + I lay and thought over some of these things until midnight. The electric lights went out then, fading slowly until there was only a red-hot loop to be seen in the bulb, and then even that died away and we were embarked on the darkness of another night. + + Apparently only a few minutes elapsed, during which my eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness. Then I noticed that the windows were reflecting a faint pinkish light, Liddy noticed it at the same time, and I heard her jump up. At that moment Sam's deep voice boomed from somewhere just below. + + "Fire!" he yelled. "The stable's on fire!" + + I could see him in the glare dancing up and down on the drive, and a moment later Halsey joined him. Alex was awake and running down the stairs, and in five minutes from the time the fire was discovered, three of the maids were sitting on their trunks in the drive, although, excepting a few sparks, there was no fire nearer than a hundred yards. + + Gertrude seldom loses her presence of mind, and she ran to the telephone. But by the time the Casanova volunteer fire department came toiling up the hill the stable was a furnace, with the Dragon Fly safe but blistered, in the road. Some gasolene exploded just as the volunteer department got to work, which shook their nerves as well as the burning building. The stable, being on a hill, was a torch to attract the population from every direction. Rumor had it that Sunnyside was burning, and it was amazing how many people threw something over their night-clothes and flew to the conflagration. + + I take it Casanova has few fires, and Sunnyside was furnishing the people, in one way and another, the greatest excitement they had had for years. + + The stable was off the west wing. I hardly know how I came to think of the circular staircase and the unguarded door at its foot. Liddy was putting my clothes into sheets, preparatory to tossing them out the window, when I found her, and I could hardly persuade her to stop. + + "I want you to come with me, Liddy," I said. "Bring a candle and a couple of blankets." + + She lagged behind considerably when she saw me making for the east wing, and at the top of the staircase she balked. + + "I am not going down there," she said firmly. + + "There is no one guarding the door down there," I explained. "Who knows?--this may be a scheme to draw everybody away from this end of the house, and let some one in here." + + The instant I had said it I was convinced I had hit on the explanation, and that perhaps it was already too late. It seemed to me as I listened that I heard stealthy footsteps on the east porch, but there was so much shouting outside that it was impossible to tell. Liddy was on the point of retreat. + + "Very well," I said, "then I shall go down alone. Run back to Mr. Halsey's room and get his revolver. Don't shoot down the stairs if you hear a noise: remember--I shall be down there. And hurry." + + I put the candle on the floor at the top of the staircase and took off my bedroom slippers. Then I crept down the stairs, going very slowly, and listening with all my ears. I was keyed to such a pitch that I felt no fear: like the condemned who sleep and eat the night before execution, I was no longer able to suffer apprehension. I was past that. Just at the foot of the stairs I stubbed my toe against Halsey's big chair, and had to stand on one foot in a soundless agony until the pain subsided to a dull ache. And then--I knew I was right. Some one had put a key into the lock, and was turning it. For some reason it refused to work, and the key was withdrawn. There was a muttering of voices outside: I had only a second. Another trial, and the door would open. The candle above made a faint gleam down the well-like staircase, and at that moment, with a second, no more, to spare, I thought of a plan. + + The heavy oak chair almost filled the space between the newel post and the door. With a crash I had turned it on its side, wedging it against the door, its legs against the stairs. I could hear a faint scream from Liddy, at the crash, and then she came down the stairs on a run, with the revolver held straight out in front of her. + + "Thank God," she said, in a shaking voice. "I thought it was you." + + I pointed to the door, and she understood. + + "Call out the windows at the other end of the house," I whispered. "Run. Tell them not to wait for anything." + + She went up the stairs at that, two at a time. Evidently she collided with the candle, for it went out, and I was left in darkness. + + I was really astonishingly cool. I remember stepping over the chair and gluing my ear to the door, and I shall never forget feeling it give an inch or two there in the darkness, under a steady pressure from without. But the chair held, although I could hear an ominous cracking of one of the legs. And then, without the slightest warning, the card-room window broke with a crash. I had my finger on the trigger of the revolver, and as I jumped it went off, right through the door. Some one outside swore roundly, and for the first time I could hear what was said. + + "Only a scratch. . . . Men are at the other end of the house. . . . Have the whole rat's nest on us." And a lot of profanity which I won't write down. The voices were at the broken window now, and although I was trembling violently, I was determined that I would hold them until help came. I moved up the stairs until I could see into the card-room, or rather through it, to the window. As I looked a small man put his leg over the sill and stepped into the room. The curtain confused him for a moment; then he turned, not toward me, but toward the billiard-room door. I fired again, and something that was glass or china crashed to the ground. Then I ran up the stairs and along the corridor to the main staircase. Gertrude was standing there, trying to locate the shots, and I must have been a peculiar figure, with my hair in crimps, my dressing-gown flying, no slippers, and a revolver clutched in my hands I had no time to talk. There was the sound of footsteps in the lower hall, and some one bounded up the stairs. + + I had gone Berserk, I think. I leaned over the stair-rail and fired again. Halsey, below, yelled at me. + + "What are you doing up there?" he yelled. "You missed me by an inch." + + And then I collapsed and fainted. When I came around Liddy was rubbing my temples with eau de quinine, and the search was in full blast. + + Well, the man was gone. The stable burned to the ground, while the crowd cheered at every falling rafter, and the volunteer fire department sprayed it with a garden hose. And in the house Alex and Halsey searched every corner of the lower floor, finding no one. + + The truth of my story was shown by the broken window and the overturned chair. That the unknown had got up-stairs was almost impossible. He had not used the main staircase, there was no way to the upper floor in the east wing, and Liddy had been at the window, in the west wing, where the servants' stair went up. But we did not go to bed at all. Sam Bohannon and Warner helped in the search, and not a closet escaped scrutiny. Even the cellars were given a thorough overhauling, without result. The door in the east entry had a hole through it where my bullet had gone. + + The hole slanted downward, and the bullet was embedded in the porch. Some reddish stains showed it had done execution. + + "Somebody will walk lame," Halsey said, when he had marked the course of the bullet. "It's too low to have hit anything but a leg or foot." + + From that time on I watched every person I met for a limp, and to this day the man who halts in his walk is an object of suspicion to me. But Casanova had no lame men: the nearest approach to it was an old fellow who tended the safety gates at the railroad, and he, I learned on inquiry, had two artificial legs. Our man had gone, and the large and expensive stable at Sunnyside was a heap of smoking rafters and charred boards. Warner swore the fire was incendiary, and in view of the attempt to enter the house, there seemed to be no doubt of it. + + CHAPTER XXIV + + FLINDERS + + If Halsey had only taken me fully into his confidence, through the whole affair, it would have been much simpler. If he had been altogether frank about Jack Bailey, and if the day after the fire he had told me what he suspected, there would have been no harrowing period for all of us, with the boy in danger. But young people refuse to profit by the experience of their elders, and sometimes the elders are the ones to suffer. + + I was much used up the day after the fire, and Gertrude insisted on my going out. The machine was temporarily out of commission, and the carriage horses had been sent to a farm for the summer. Gertrude finally got a trap from the Casanova liveryman, and we went out. Just as we turned from the drive into the road we passed a woman. She had put down a small valise, and stood inspecting the house and grounds minutely. I should hardly have noticed her, had it not been for the fact that she had been horribly disfigured by smallpox. + + "Ugh!" Gertrude said, when we had passed, "what a face! I shall dream of it to-night. Get up, Flinders." + + "Flinders?" I asked. "Is that the horse's name?" + + "It is." She flicked the horse's stubby mane with the whip. "He didn't look like a livery horse, and the liveryman said he had bought him from the Armstrongs when they purchased a couple of motors and cut down the stable. Nice Flinders--good old boy!" + + Flinders was certainly not a common name for a horse, and yet the youngster at Richfield had named his prancing, curly-haired little horse Flinders! It set me to thinking. + + At my request Halsey had already sent word of the fire to the agent from whom we had secured the house. Also, he had called Mr. Jamieson by telephone, and somewhat guardedly had told him of the previous night's events. Mr. Jamieson promised to come out that night, and to bring another man with him. I did not consider it necessary to notify Mrs. Armstrong, in the village. No doubt she knew of the fire, and in view of my refusal to give up the house, an interview would probably have been unpleasant enough. But as we passed Doctor Walker's white and green house I thought of something. + + "Stop here, Gertrude," I said. "I am going to get out." + + "To see Louise?" she asked. + + "No, I want to ask this young Walker something." + + She was curious, I knew, but I did not wait to explain. I went up the walk to the house, where a brass sign at the side announced the office, and went in. The reception-room was empty, but from the consulting-room beyond came the sound of two voices, not very amicable. + + "It is an outrageous figure," some one was storming. Then the doctor's quiet tone, evidently not arguing, merely stating something. But I had not time to listen to some person probably disputing his bill, so I coughed. The voices ceased at once: a door closed somewhere, and the doctor entered from the hall of the house. He looked sufficiently surprised at seeing me. + + "Good afternoon, Doctor," I said formally. "I shall not keep you from your patient. I wish merely to ask you a question." + + "Won't you sit down?" + + "It will not be necessary. Doctor, has any one come to you, either early this morning or to-day, to have you treat a bullet wound?" + + "Nothing so startling has happened to me," he said. "A bullet wound! Things must be lively at Sunnyside." + + "I didn't say it was at Sunnyside. But as it happens, it was. If any such case comes to you, will it be too much trouble for you to let me know?" + + "I shall be only too happy," he said. "I understand you have had a fire up there, too. A fire and shooting in one night is rather lively for a quiet place like that." + + "It is as quiet as a boiler-shop," I replied, as I turned to go. + + "And you are still going to stay?" + + "Until I am burned out," I responded. And then on my way down the steps, I turned around suddenly. + + "Doctor," I asked at a venture, "have you ever heard of a child named Lucien Wallace?" + + Clever as he was, his face changed and stiffened. He was on his guard again in a moment. + + "Lucien Wallace?" he repeated. "No, I think not. There are plenty of Wallaces around, but I don't know any Lucien." + + I was as certain as possible that he did. People do not lie readily to me, and this man lied beyond a doubt. But there was nothing to be gained now; his defenses were up, and I left, half irritated and wholly baffled. + + Our reception was entirely different at Doctor Stewart's. Taken into the bosom of the family at once, Flinders tied outside and nibbling the grass at the roadside, Gertrude and I drank some home-made elderberry wine and told briefly of the fire. Of the more serious part of the night's experience, of course, we said nothing. But when at last we had left the family on the porch and the good doctor was untying our steed, I asked him the same question I had put to Doctor Walker. + + "Shot!" he said. "Bless my soul, no. Why, what have you been doing up at the big house, Miss Innes?" + + "Some one tried to enter the house during the fire, and was shot and slightly injured," I said hastily. "Please don't mention it; we wish to make as little of it as possible." + + There was one other possibility, and we tried that. At Casanova station I saw the station master, and asked him if any trains left Casanova between one o'clock and daylight. There was none until six A.M. The next question required more diplomacy. + + "Did you notice on the six-o'clock train any person--any man--who limped a little?" I asked. "Please try to remember: we are trying to trace a man who was seen loitering around Sunnyside last night before the fire." + + He was all attention in a moment. + + "I was up there myself at the fire," he said volubly. "I'm a member of the volunteer company. First big fire we've had since the summer house burned over to the club golf links. My wife was sayin' the other day, `Dave, you might as well 'a' saved the money in that there helmet and shirt.' And here last night they came in handy. Rang that bell so hard I hadn't time scarcely to get 'em on." + + "And--did you see a man who limped?" Gertrude put in, as he stopped for breath. + + "Not at the train, ma'm," he said. "No such person got on here to-day. But I'll tell you where I did see a man that limped. I didn't wait till the fire company left; there's a fast freight goes through at four forty-five, and I had to get down to the station. I seen there wasn't much more to do anyhow at the fire--we'd got the flames under control"--Gertrude looked at me and smiled--"so I started down the hill. There was folks here and there goin' home, and along by the path to the Country Club I seen two men. One was a short fellow. He was sitting on a big rock, his back to me, and he had something white in his hand, as if he was tying up his foot. After I'd gone on a piece I looked back, and he was hobbling on and--excuse me, miss--he was swearing something sickening." + + "Did they go toward the club?" Gertrude asked suddenly, leaning forward. + + "No, miss. I think they came into the village. I didn't get a look at their faces, but I know every chick and child in the place, and everybody knows me. When they didn't shout at me--in my uniform, you know--I took it they were strangers." + + So all we had for our afternoon's work was this: some one had been shot by the bullet that went through the door; he had not left the village, and he had not called in a physician. Also, Doctor Walker knew who Lucien Wallace was, and his very denial made me confident that, in that one direction at least, we were on the right track. + + The thought that the detective would be there that night was the most cheering thing of all, and I think even Gertrude was glad of it. Driving home that afternoon, I saw her in the clear sunlight for the first time in several days, and I was startled to see how ill she looked. She was thin and colorless, and all her bright animation was gone. + + "Gertrude," I said, "I have been a very selfish old woman. You are going to leave this miserable house to-night. Annie Morton is going to Scotland next week, and you shall go right with her." + + To my surprise, she flushed painfully. + + "I don't want to go, Aunt Ray," she said. "Don't make me leave now." + + "You are losing your health and your good looks," I said decidedly. "You should have a change." + + "I shan't stir a foot." She was equally decided. Then, more lightly: "Why, you and Liddy need me to arbitrate between you every day in the week." + + Perhaps I was growing suspicious of every one, but it seemed to me that Gertrude's gaiety was forced and artificial. I watched her covertly during the rest of the drive, and I did not like the two spots of crimson in her pale cheeks. But I said nothing more about sending her to Scotland: I knew she would not go. + + CHAPTER XXV + + A VISIT FROM LOUISE + + That day was destined to be an eventful one, for when I entered the house and found Eliza ensconced in the upper hall on a chair, with Mary Anne doing her best to stifle her with household ammonia, and Liddy rubbing her wrists--whatever good that is supposed to do--I knew that the ghost had been walking again, and this time in daylight. + + Eliza was in a frenzy of fear. She clutched at my sleeve when I went close to her, and refused to let go until she had told her story. Coming just after the fire, the household was demoralized, and it was no surprise to me to find Alex and the under-gardener struggling down-stairs with a heavy trunk between them. + + "I didn't want to do it, Miss Innes," Alex said. "But she was so excited, I was afraid she would do as she said--drag it down herself, and scratch the staircase." + + I was trying to get my bonnet off and to keep the maids quiet at the same time. "Now, Eliza, when you have washed your face and stopped bawling," I said, "come into my sitting-room and tell me what has happened." + + Liddy put away my things without speaking. The very set of her shoulders expressed disapproval. + + "Well," I said, when the silence became uncomfortable, "things seem to be warming up." + + Silence from Liddy, and a long sigh. + + "If Eliza goes, I don't know where to look for another cook." More silence. + + "Rosie is probably a good cook." Sniff. + + "Liddy," I said at last, "don't dare to deny that you are having the time of your life. You positively gloat in this excitement. You never looked better. It's my opinion all this running around, and getting jolted out of a rut, has stirred up that torpid liver of yours." + + "It's not myself I'm thinking about," she said, goaded into speech. "Maybe my liver was torpid, and maybe it wasn't; but I know this: I've got some feelings left, and to see you standing at the foot of that staircase shootin' through the door--I'll never be the same woman again." + + "Well, I'm glad of that--anything for a change," I said. And in came Eliza, flanked by Rosie and Mary Anne. + + Her story, broken with sobs and corrections from the other two, was this: At two o'clock (two-fifteen, Rosie insisted) she had gone up-stairs to get a picture from her room to show Mary Anne. (A picture of a LADY, Mary Anne interposed.) She went up the servants' staircase and along the corridor to her room, which lay between the trunk-room and the unfinished ball-room. She heard a sound as she went down the corridor, like some one moving furniture, but she was not nervous. She thought it might be men examining the house after the fire the night before, but she looked in the trunk-room and saw nobody. + + She went into her room quietly. The noise had ceased, and everything was quiet. Then she sat down on the side of her bed, and, feeling faint--she was subject to spells--("I told you that when I came, didn't I, Rosie?" "Yes'm, indeed she did!")--she put her head down on her pillow and-- + + "Took a nap. All right!" I said. "Go on." + + "When I came to, Miss Innes, sure as I'm sittin' here, I thought I'd die. Somethin' hit me on the face, and I set up, sudden. And then I seen the plaster drop, droppin' from a little hole in the wall. And the first thing I knew, an iron bar that long" (fully two yards by her measure) "shot through that hole and tumbled on the bed. If I'd been still sleeping" ("Fainting," corrected Rosie) "I'd 'a' been hit on the head and killed!" + + "I wisht you'd heard her scream," put in Mary Anne. "And her face as white as a pillow-slip when she tumbled down the stairs." + + "No doubt there is some natural explanation for it, Eliza," I said. "You may have dreamed it, in your `fainting' attack. But if it is true, the metal rod and the hole in the wall will show it." + + Eliza looked a little bit sheepish. + + "The hole's there all right, Miss Innes," she said. "But the bar was gone when Mary Anne and Rosie went up to pack my trunk." + + "That wasn't all," Liddy's voice came funereally from a corner. "Eliza said that from the hole in the wall a burning eye looked down at her!" + + "The wall must be at least six inches thick," I said with asperity. "Unless the person who drilled the hole carried his eyes on the ends of a stick, Eliza couldn't possibly have seen them." + + But the fact remained, and a visit to Eliza's room proved it. I might jeer all I wished: some one had drilled a hole in the unfinished wall of the ball-room, passing between the bricks of the partition, and shooting through the unresisting plaster of Eliza's room with such force as to send the rod flying on to her bed. I had gone up-stairs alone, and I confess the thing puzzled me: in two or three places in the wall small apertures had been made, none of them of any depth. Not the least mysterious thing was the disappearance of the iron implement that had been used. + + I remembered a story I read once about an impish dwarf that lived in the spaces between the double walls of an ancient castle. I wondered vaguely if my original idea of a secret entrance to a hidden chamber could be right, after all, and if we were housing some erratic guest, who played pranks on us in the dark, and destroyed the walls that he might listen, hidden safely away, to our amazed investigations. + + Mary Anne and Eliza left that afternoon, but Rosie decided to stay. It was about five o'clock when the hack came from the station to get them, and, to my amazement, it had an occupant. Matthew Geist, the driver, asked for me, and explained his errand with pride. + + "I've brought you a cook, Miss Innes," he said. "When the message came to come up for two girls and their trunks, I supposed there was something doing, and as this here woman had been looking for work in the village, I thought I'd bring her along." + + Already I had acquired the true suburbanite ability to take servants on faith; I no longer demanded written and unimpeachable references. I, Rachel Innes, have learned not to mind if the cook sits down comfortably in my sitting-room when she is taking the orders for the day, and I am grateful if the silver is not cleaned with scouring soap. And so that day I merely told Liddy to send the new applicant in. When she came, however, I could hardly restrain a gasp of surprise. It was the woman with the pitted face. + + She stood somewhat awkwardly just inside the door, and she had an air of self-confidence that was inspiring. Yes, she could cook; was not a fancy cook, but could make good soups and desserts if there was any one to take charge of the salads. And so, in the end, I took her. As Halsey said, when we told him, it didn't matter much about the cook's face, if it was clean. + + I have spoken of Halsey's restlessness. On that day it seemed to be more than ever a resistless impulse that kept him out until after luncheon. I think he hoped constantly that he might meet Louise driving over the hills in her runabout: possibly he did meet her occasionally, but from his continued gloom I felt sure the situation between them was unchanged. + + Part of the afternoon I believe he read--Gertrude and I were out, as I have said, and at dinner we both noticed that something had occurred to distract him. He was disagreeable, which is unlike him, nervous, looking at his watch every few minutes, and he ate almost nothing. He asked twice during the meal on what train Mr. Jamieson and the other detective were coming, and had long periods of abstraction during which he dug his fork into my damask cloth and did not hear when he was spoken to. He refused dessert, and left the table early, excusing himself on the ground that he wanted to see Alex. + + Alex, however, was not to be found. It was after eight when Halsey ordered the car, and started down the hill at a pace that, even for him, was unusually reckless. Shortly after, Alex reported that he was ready to go over the house, preparatory to closing it for the night. Sam Bohannon came at a quarter before nine, and began his patrol of the grounds, and with the arrival of the two detectives to look forward to, I was not especially apprehensive. + + At half-past nine I heard the sound of a horse driven furiously up the drive. It came to a stop in front of the house, and immediately after there were hurried steps on the veranda. Our nerves were not what they should have been, and Gertrude, always apprehensive lately, was at the door almost instantly. A moment later Louise had burst into the room and stood there bareheaded and breathing hard! + + "Where is Halsey?" she demanded. Above her plain black gown her eyes looked big and somber, and the rapid drive had brought no color to her face. I got up and drew forward a chair. + + "He has not come back," I said quietly. "Sit down, child; you are not strong enough for this kind of thing." + + I don't think she even heard me. + + "He has not come back?" she asked, looking from me to Gertrude. "Do you know where he went? Where can I find him?" + + "For Heaven's sake, Louise," Gertrude burst out, "tell us what is wrong. Halsey is not here. He has gone to the station for Mr. Jamieson. What has happened?" + + "To the station, Gertrude? You are sure?" + + "Yes," I said. "Listen. There is the whistle of the train now." + + She relaxed a little at our matter-of-fact tone, and allowed herself to sink into a chair. + + "Perhaps I was wrong," she said heavily. "He--will be here in a few moments if--everything is right." + + We sat there, the three of us, without attempt at conversation. Both Gertrude and I recognized the futility of asking Louise any questions: her reticence was a part of a role she had assumed. Our ears were strained for the first throb of the motor as it turned into the drive and commenced the climb to the house. Ten minutes passed, fifteen, twenty. I saw Louise's hands grow rigid as they clutched the arms of her chair. I watched Gertrude's bright color slowly ebbing away, and around my own heart I seemed to feel the grasp of a giant hand. + + Twenty-five minutes, and then a sound. But it was not the chug of the motor: it was the unmistakable rumble of the Casanova hack. Gertrude drew aside the curtain and peered into the darkness. + + "It's the hack, I am sure," she said, evidently relieved. "Something has gone wrong with the car, and no wonder--the way Halsey went down the hill." + + It seemed a long time before the creaking vehicle came to a stop at the door. Louise rose and stood watching, her hand to her throat. And then Gertrude opened the door, admitting Mr. Jamieson and a stocky, middle-aged man. Halsey was not with them. When the door had closed and Louise realized that Halsey had not come, her expression changed. From tense watchfulness to relief, and now again to absolute despair, her face was an open page. + + "Halsey?" I asked unceremoniously, ignoring the stranger. "Did he not meet you?" + + "No." Mr. Jamieson looked slightly surprised. "I rather expected the car, but we got up all right." + + "You didn't see him at all?" Louise demanded breathlessly. + + Mr. Jamieson knew her at once, although he had not seen her before. She had kept to her rooms until the morning she left. + + "No, Miss Armstrong," he said. "I saw nothing of him. What is wrong?" + + "Then we shall have to find him," she asserted. "Every instant is precious. Mr. Jamieson, I have reason for believing that he is in danger, but I don't know what it is. Only--he must be found." + + The stocky man had said nothing. Now, however, he went quickly toward the door. + + "I'll catch the hack down the road and hold it," he said. "Is the gentleman down in the town?" + + "Mr. Jamieson," Louise said impulsively, "I can use the hack. Take my horse and trap outside and drive like mad. Try to find the Dragon Fly--it ought to be easy to trace. I can think of no other way. Only, don't lose a moment." + + The new detective had gone, and a moment later Jamieson went rapidly down the drive, the cob's feet striking fire at every step. Louise stood looking after them. When she turned around she faced Gertrude, who stood indignant, almost tragic, in the hall. + + "You KNOW what threatens Halsey, Louise," she said accusingly. "I believe you know this whole horrible thing, this mystery that we are struggling with. If anything happens to Halsey, I shall never forgive you." + + Louise only raised her hands despairingly and dropped them again. + + "He is as dear to me as he is to you," she said sadly. "I tried to warn him." + + "Nonsense!" I said, as briskly as I could. "We are making a lot of trouble out of something perhaps very small. Halsey was probably late--he is always late. Any moment we may hear the car coming up the road." + + But it did not come. After a half-hour of suspense, Louise went out quietly, and did not come back. I hardly knew she was gone until I heard the station hack moving off. At eleven o'clock the telephone rang. It was Mr. Jamieson. + + "I have found the Dragon Fly, Miss Innes," he said. "It has collided with a freight car on the siding above the station. No, Mr. Innes was not there, but we shall probably find him. Send Warner for the car." + + But they did not find him. At four o'clock the next morning we were still waiting for news, while Alex watched the house and Sam the grounds. At daylight I dropped into exhausted sleep. Halsey had not come back, and there was no word from the detective. + + CHAPTER XXVI + + HALSEY'S DISAPPEARANCE + + Nothing that had gone before had been as bad as this. The murder and Thomas' sudden death we had been able to view in a detached sort of way. But with Halsey's disappearance everything was altered. Our little circle, intact until now, was broken. We were no longer onlookers who saw a battle passing around them. We were the center of action. Of course, there was no time then to voice such an idea. My mind seemed able to hold only one thought: that Halsey had been foully dealt with, and that every minute lost might be fatal. + + Mr. Jamieson came back about eight o'clock the next morning: he was covered with mud, and his hat was gone. Altogether, we were a sad-looking trio that gathered around a breakfast that no one could eat. Over a cup of black coffee the detective told us what he had learned of Halsey's movements the night before. Up to a certain point the car had made it easy enough to follow him. And I gathered that Mr. Burns, the other detective, had followed a similar car for miles at dawn, only to find it was a touring car on an endurance run. + + "He left here about ten minutes after eight," Mr. Jamieson said. "He went alone, and at eight twenty he stopped at Doctor Walker's. I went to the doctor's about midnight, but he had been called out on a case, and had not come back at four o'clock. From the doctor's it seems Mr. Innes walked across the lawn to the cottage Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter have taken. Mrs. Armstrong had retired, and he said perhaps a dozen words to Miss Louise. She will not say what they were, but the girl evidently suspects what has occurred. That is, she suspects foul play, but she doesn't know of what nature. Then, apparently, he started directly for the station. He was going very fast--the flagman at the Carol Street crossing says he saw the car pass. He knew the siren. Along somewhere in the dark stretch between Carol Street and the depot he evidently swerved suddenly--perhaps some one in the road--and went full into the side of a freight. We found it there last night." + + "He might have been thrown under the train by the force of the shock," I said tremulously. + + Gertrude shuddered. + + "We examined every inch of track. There was--no sign." + + "But surely--he can't be--gone!" I cried. "Aren't there traces in the mud--anything?" + + "There is no mud--only dust. There has been no rain. And the footpath there is of cinders. Miss Innes, I am inclined to think that he has met with bad treatment, in the light of what has gone before. I do not think he has been murdered." I shrank from the word. "Burns is back in the country, on a clue we got from the night clerk at the drug-store. There will be two more men here by noon, and the city office is on the lookout." + + "The creek?" Gertrude asked. + + "The creek is shallow now. If it were swollen with rain, it would be different. There is hardly any water in it. Now, Miss Innes," he said, turning to me, "I must ask you some questions. Had Mr. Halsey any possible reason for going away like this, without warning?" + + "None whatever." + + "He went away once before," he persisted. "And you were as sure then." + + "He did not leave the Dragon Fly jammed into the side of a freight car before." + + "No, but he left it for repairs in a blacksmith shop, a long distance from here. Do you know if he had any enemies? Any one who might wish him out of the way?" + + "Not that I know of, unless--no, I can not think of any." + + "Was he in the habit of carrying money?" + + "He never carried it far. No, he never had more than enough for current expenses." + + Mr. Jamieson got up then and began to pace the room. It was an unwonted concession to the occasion. + + "Then I think we get at it by elimination. The chances are against flight. If he was hurt, we find no trace of him. It looks almost like an abduction. This young Doctor Walker--have you any idea why Mr. Innes should have gone there last night?" + + "I can not understand it," Gertrude said thoughtfully. "I don't think he knew Doctor Walker at all, and--their relations could hardly have been cordial, under the circumstances." + + Jamieson pricked up his ears, and little by little he drew from us the unfortunate story of Halsey's love affair, and the fact that Louise was going to marry Doctor Walker. + + Mr. Jamieson listened attentively. + + "There are some interesting developments here," he said thoughtfully. "The woman who claims to be the mother of Lucien Wallace has not come back. Your nephew has apparently been spirited away. There is an organized attempt being made to enter this house; in fact, it has been entered. Witness the incident with the cook yesterday. And I have a new piece of information." + + He looked carefully away from Gertrude. "Mr. John Bailey is not at his Knickerbocker apartments, and I don't know where he is. It's a hash, that's what it is. It's a Chinese puzzle. They won't fit together, unless--unless Mr. Bailey and your nephew have again--" + + And once again Gertrude surprised me. "They are not together," she said hotly. "I--know where Mr. Bailey is, and my brother is not with him." + + The detective turned and looked at her keenly. + + "Miss Gertrude," he said, "if you and Miss Louise would only tell me everything you know and surmise about this business, I should be able to do a great many things. I believe I could find your brother, and I might be able to--well, to do some other things." But Gertrude's glance did not falter. + + "Nothing that I know could help you to find Halsey," she said stubbornly. "I know absolutely as little of his disappearance as you do, and I can only say this: I do not trust Doctor Walker. I think he hated Halsey, and he would get rid of him if he could." + + "Perhaps you are right. In fact, I had some such theory myself. But Doctor Walker went out late last night to a serious case in Summitville, and is still there. Burns traced him there. We have made guarded inquiry at the Greenwood Club, and through the village. There is absolutely nothing to go on but this. On the embankment above the railroad, at the point where we found the machine, is a small house. An old woman and a daughter, who is very lame, live there. They say that they distinctly heard the shock when the Dragon Fly hit the car, and they went to the bottom of their garden and looked over. The automobile was there; they could see the lights, and they thought someone had been injured. It was very dark, but they could make out two figures, standing together. The women were curious, and, leaving the fence, they went back and by a roundabout path down to the road. When they got there the car was still standing, the headlight broken and the bonnet crushed, but there was no one to be seen." + + The detective went away immediately, and to Gertrude and me was left the woman's part, to watch and wait. By luncheon nothing had been found, and I was frantic. I went up-stairs to Halsey's room finally, from sheer inability to sit across from Gertrude any longer, and meet her terror-filled eyes. + + Liddy was in my dressing-room, suspiciously red-eyed, and trying to put a right sleeve in a left armhole of a new waist for me. I was too much shaken to scold. + + "What name did that woman in the kitchen give?" she demanded, viciously ripping out the offending sleeve. + + "Bliss. Mattie Bliss," I replied. + + "Bliss. M. B. Well, that's not what she has on he suitcase. It is marked N. F. C." + + The new cook and her initials troubled me not at all. I put on my bonnet and sent for what the Casanova liveryman called a "stylish turnout." Having once made up my mind to a course of action, I am not one to turn back. Warner drove me; he was plainly disgusted, and he steered the livery horse as he would the Dragon Fly, feeling uneasily with his left foot for the clutch, and working his right elbow at an imaginary horn every time a dog got in the way. + + Warner had something on his mind, and after we had turned into the road, he voiced it. + + "Miss Innes," he said. "I overheard a part of a conversation yesterday that I didn't understand. It wasn't my business to understand it, for that matter. But I've been thinking all day that I'd better tell you. Yesterday afternoon, while you and Miss Gertrude were out driving, I had got the car in some sort of shape again after the fire, and I went to the library to call Mr. Innes to see it. I went into the living-room, where Miss Liddy said he was, and half-way across to the library I heard him talking to some one. He seemed to be walking up and down, and he was in a rage, I can tell you." + + "What did he say?" + + "The first thing I heard was--excuse me, Miss Innes, but it's what he said, `The damned rascal,' he said, `I'll see him in'-- well, in hell was what he said, `in hell first.' Then somebody else spoke up; it was a woman. She said, `I warned them, but they thought I would be afraid.'" + + "A woman! Did you wait to see who it was?" + + "I wasn't spying, Miss Innes," Warner said with dignity. "But the next thing caught my attention. She said, `I knew there was something wrong from the start. A man isn't well one day, and dead the next, without some reason.' I thought she was speaking of Thomas." + + "And you don't know who it was!" I exclaimed. "Warner, you had the key to this whole occurrence in your hands, and did not use it!" + + However, there was nothing to be done. I resolved to make inquiry when I got home, and in the meantime, my present errand absorbed me. This was nothing less than to see Louise Armstrong, and to attempt to drag from her what she knew, or suspected, of Halsey's disappearance. But here, as in every direction I turned, I was baffled. + + A neat maid answered the bell, but she stood squarely in the doorway, and it was impossible to preserve one's dignity and pass her. + + "Miss Armstrong is very ill, and unable to see any one," she said. I did not believe her. + + "And Mrs. Armstrong--is she also ill?" + + "She is with Miss Louise and can not be disturbed." + + "Tell her it is Miss Innes, and that it is a matter of the greatest importance." + + "It would be of no use, Miss Innes. My orders are positive." + + At that moment a heavy step sounded on the stairs. Past the maid's white-strapped shoulder I could see a familiar thatch of gray hair, and in a moment I was face to face with Doctor Stewart. He was very grave, and his customary geniality was tinged with restraint. + + "You are the very woman I want to see," he said promptly. "Send away your trap, and let me drive you home. What is this about your nephew?" + + "He has disappeared, doctor. Not only that, but there is every evidence that he has been either abducted, or--" I could not finish. The doctor helped me into his capacious buggy in silence. Until we had got a little distance he did not speak; then he turned and looked at me. + + "Now tell me about it," he said. He heard me through without speaking. + + "And you think Louise knows something?" he said when I had finished. "I don't--in fact, I am sure of it. The best evidence of it is this: she asked me if he had been heard from, or if anything had been learned. She won't allow Walker in the room, and she made me promise to see you and tell you this: don't give up the search for him. Find him, and find him soon. He is living." + + "Well," I said, "if she knows that, she knows more. She is a very cruel and ungrateful girl." + + "She is a very sick girl," he said gravely. "Neither you nor I can judge her until we know everything. Both she and her mother are ghosts of their former selves. Under all this, these two sudden deaths, this bank robbery, the invasions at Sunnyside and Halsey's disappearance, there is some mystery that, mark my words, will come out some day. And when it does, we shall find Louise Armstrong a victim." + + I had not noticed where we were going, but now I saw we were beside the railroad, and from a knot of men standing beside the track I divined that it was here the car had been found. The siding, however, was empty. Except a few bits of splintered wood on the ground, there was no sign of the accident. + + "Where is the freight car that was rammed?" the doctor asked a bystander. + + "It was taken away at daylight, when the train was moved." + + There was nothing to be gained. He pointed out the house on the embankment where the old lady and her daughter had heard the crash and seen two figures beside the car. Then we drove slowly home. I had the doctor put me down at the gate, and I walked to the house--past the lodge where we had found Louise, and, later, poor Thomas; up the drive where I had seen a man watching the lodge and where, later, Rosie had been frightened; past the east entrance, where so short a time before the most obstinate effort had been made to enter the house, and where, that night two weeks ago, Liddy and I had seen the strange woman. Not far from the west wing lay the blackened ruins of the stables. I felt like a ruin myself, as I paused on the broad veranda before I entered the house. + + Two private detectives had arrived in my absence, and it was a relief to turn over to them the responsibility of the house and grounds. Mr. Jamieson, they said, had arranged for more to assist in the search for the missing man, and at that time the country was being scoured in all directions. + + The household staff was again depleted that afternoon. Liddy was waiting to tell me that the new cook had gone, bag and baggage, without waiting to be paid. No one had admitted the visitor whom Warner had heard in the library, unless, possibly, the missing cook. Again I was working in a circle. + + CHAPTER XXVII + + WHO IS NINA CARRINGTON? + + The four days, from Saturday to the following Tuesday, we lived, or existed, in a state of the most dreadful suspense. We ate only when Liddy brought in a tray, and then very little. The papers, of course, had got hold of the story, and we were besieged by newspaper men. From all over the country false clues came pouring in and raised hopes that crumbled again to nothing. Every morgue within a hundred miles, every hospital, had been visited, without result. + + Mr. Jamieson, personally, took charge of the organized search, and every evening, no matter where he happened to be, he called us by long distance telephone. It was the same formula. "Nothing to-day. A new clue to work on. Better luck to-morrow." + + And heartsick we would put up the receiver and sit down again to our vigil. + + The inaction was deadly. Liddy cried all day, and, because she knew I objected to tears, sniffled audibly around the corner. + + "For Heaven's sake, smile!" I snapped at her. And her ghastly attempt at a grin, with her swollen nose and red eyes, made me hysterical. I laughed and cried together, and pretty soon, like the two old fools we were, we were sitting together weeping into the same handkerchief. + + Things were happening, of course, all the time, but they made little or no impression. The Charity Hospital called up Doctor Stewart and reported that Mrs. Watson was in a critical condition. I understood also that legal steps were being taken to terminate my lease at Sunnyside. Louise was out of danger, but very ill, and a trained nurse guarded her like a gorgon. There was a rumor in the village, brought up by Liddy from the butcher's, that a wedding had already taken place between Louise and Doctor Walkers and this roused me for the first time to action. + + On Tuesday, then, I sent for the car, and prepared to go out. As I waited at the porte-cochere I saw the under-gardener, an inoffensive, grayish-haired man, trimming borders near the house. + + The day detective was watching him, sitting on the carriage block. When he saw me, he got up. + + "Miss Innes," he said, taking of his hat, "do you know where Alex, the gardener, is?" + + "Why, no. Isn't he here?" I asked. + + "He has been gone since yesterday afternoon. Have you employed him long?" + + "Only a couple of weeks." + + "Is he efficient? A capable man?" + + "I hardly know," I said vaguely. "The place looks all right, and I know very little about such things. I know much more about boxes of roses than bushes of them." + + "This man," pointing to the assistant, "says Alex isn't a gardener. That he doesn't know anything about plants." + + "That's very strange," I said, thinking hard. "Why, he came to me from the Brays, who are in Europe." + + "Exactly." The detective smiled. "Every man who cuts grass isn't a gardener, Miss Innes, and just now it is our policy to believe every person around here a rascal until he proves to be the other thing." + + Warner came up with the car then, and the conversation stopped. As he helped me in, however, the detective said something further. + + "Not a word or sign to Alex, if he comes back," he said cautiously. + + I went first to Doctor Walker's. I was tired of beating about the bush, and I felt that the key to Halsey's disappearance was here at Casanova, in spite of Mr. Jamieson's theories. + + The doctor was in. He came at once to the door of his consulting-room, and there was no mask of cordiality in his manner. + + "Please come in," he said curtly. + + "I shall stay here, I think, doctor." I did not like his face or his manner; there was a subtle change in both. He had thrown of the air of friendliness, and I thought, too, that he looked anxious and haggard. + + "Doctor Walker," I said, "I have come to you to ask some questions. I hope you will answer them. As you know, my nephew has not yet been found." + + "So I understand," stiffly. + + "I believe, if you would, you could help us, and that leads to one of my questions. Will you tell me what was the nature of the conversation you held with him the night he was attacked and carried off?" + + "Attacked! Carried off!" he said, with pretended surprise. "Really, Miss Innes, don't you think you exaggerate? I understand it is not the first time Mr. Innes has--disappeared." + + "You are quibbling, doctor. This is a matter of life and death. Will you answer my question?" + + "Certainly. He said his nerves were bad, and I gave him a prescription for them. I am violating professional ethics when I tell you even as much as that." + + I could not tell him he lied. I think I looked it. But I hazarded a random shot. + + "I thought perhaps," I said, watching him narrowly, "that it might be about--Nina Carrington." + + For a moment I thought he was going to strike me. He grew livid, and a small crooked blood-vessel in his temple swelled and throbbed curiously. Then he forced a short laugh. + + "Who is Nina Carrington?" he asked. + + "I am about to discover that," I replied, and he was quiet at once. It was not difficult to divine that he feared Nina Carrington a good deal more than he did the devil. Our leave- taking was brief; in fact, we merely stared at each other over the waiting-room table, with its litter of year-old magazines. Then I turned and went out. + + "To Richfield," I told Warner, and on the way I thought, and thought hard. + + "Nina Carrington, Nina Carrington," the roar and rush of the wheels seemed to sing the words. "Nina Carrington, N. C." And I then knew, knew as surely as if I had seen the whole thing. There had been an N. C. on the suit-case belonging to the woman with the pitted face. How simple it all seemed. Mattie Bliss had been Nina Carrington. It was she Warner had heard in the library. It was something she had told Halsey that had taken him frantically to Doctor Walker's office, and from there perhaps to his death. If we could find the woman, we might find what had become of Halsey. + + We were almost at Richfield now, so I kept on. My mind was not on my errand there now. It was back with Halsey on that memorable night. What was it he had said to Louise, that had sent her up to Sunnyside, half wild with fear for him? I made up my mind, as the car drew up before the Tate cottage, that I would see Louise if I had to break into the house at night. + + Almost exactly the same scene as before greeted my eyes at the cottage. Mrs. Tate, the baby-carriage in the path, the children at the swing--all were the same. + + She came forward to meet me, and I noticed that some of the anxious lines had gone out of her face. She looked young, almost pretty. + + "I am glad you have come back," she said. "I think I will have to be honest and give you back your money." + + "Why?" I asked. "Has the mother come?" + + "No, but some one came and paid the boy's board for a month. She talked to him for a long time, but when I asked him afterward he didn't know her name." + + "A young woman?" + + "Not very young. About forty, I suppose. She was small and fair-haired, just a little bit gray, and very sad. She was in deep mourning, and, I think, when she came, she expected to go at once. But the child, Lucien, interested her. She talked to him for a long time, and, indeed, she looked much happier when she left." + + "You are sure this was not the real mother?" + + "O mercy, no! Why, she didn't know which of the three was Lucien. I thought perhaps she was a friend of yours, but, of course, I didn't ask." + + "She was not--pock-marked?" I asked at a venture. "No, indeed. A skin like a baby's. But perhaps you will know the initials. She gave Lucien a handkerchief and forgot it. It was very fine, black-bordered, and it had three hand-worked letters in the corner--F. B. A." + + "No," I said with truth enough, "she is not a friend of mine." F. B. A. was Fanny Armstrong, without a chance of doubt! + + With another warning to Mrs. Tate as to silence, we started back to Sunnyside. So Fanny Armstrong knew of Lucien Wallace, and was sufficiently interested to visit him and pay for his support. Who was the child's mother and where was she? Who was Nina Carrington? Did either of them know where Halsey was or what had happened to him? + + On the way home we passed the little cemetery where Thomas had been laid to rest. I wondered if Thomas could have helped us to find Halsey, had he lived. Farther along was the more imposing burial-ground, where Arnold Armstrong and his father lay in the shadow of a tall granite shaft. Of the three, I think Thomas was the only one sincerely mourned. + + CHAPTER XXVIII + + A TRAMP AND THE TOOTHACHE + + The bitterness toward the dead president of the Traders' Bank seemed to grow with time. Never popular, his memory was execrated by people who had lost nothing, but who were filled with disgust by constantly hearing new stories of the man's grasping avarice. The Traders' had been a favorite bank for small tradespeople, and in its savings department it had solicited the smallest deposits. People who had thought to be self-supporting to the last found themselves confronting the poorhouse, their two or three hundred dollar savings wiped away. All bank failures have this element, however, and the directors were trying to promise twenty per cent. on deposits. + + But, like everything else those days, the bank failure was almost forgotten by Gertrude and myself. We did not mention Jack Bailey: I had found nothing to change my impression of his guilt, and Gertrude knew how I felt. As for the murder of the bank president's son, I was of two minds. One day I thought Gertrude knew or at least suspected that Jack had done it; the next I feared that it had been Gertrude herself, that night alone on the circular staircase. And then the mother of Lucien Wallace would obtrude herself, and an almost equally good case might be made against her. There were times, of course, when I was disposed to throw all those suspicions aside, and fix definitely on the unknown, whoever that might be. + + I had my greatest disappointment when it came to tracing Nina Carrington. The woman had gone without leaving a trace. Marked as she was, it should have been easy to follow her, but she was not to be found. A description to one of the detectives, on my arrival at home, had started the ball rolling. But by night she had not been found. I told Gertrude, then, about the telegram to Louise when she had been ill before; about my visit to Doctor Walker, and my suspicions that Mattie Bliss and Nina Carrington were the same. She thought, as I did, that there was little doubt of it. + + I said nothing to her, however, of the detective's suspicions about Alex. Little things that I had not noticed at the time now came back to me. I had an uncomfortable feeling that perhaps Alex was a spy, and that by taking him into the house I had played into the enemy's hand. But at eight o'clock that night Alex himself appeared, and with him a strange and repulsive individual. They made a queer pair, for Alex was almost as disreputable as the tramp, and he had a badly swollen eye. + + Gertrude had been sitting listlessly waiting for the evening message from Mr. Jamieson, but when the singular pair came in, as they did, without ceremony, she jumped up and stood staring. Winters, the detective who watched the house at night, followed them, and kept his eyes sharply on Alex's prisoner. For that was the situation as it developed. + + He was a tall lanky individual, ragged and dirty, and just now he looked both terrified and embarrassed. Alex was too much engrossed to be either, and to this day I don't think I ever asked him why he went off without permission the day before. + + "Miss Innes," Alex began abruptly, "this man can tell us something very important about the disappearance of Mr. Innes. I found him trying to sell this watch." + + He took a watch from his pocket and put it on the table. It was Halsey's watch. I had given it to him on his twenty-first birthday: I was dumb with apprehension. + + "He says he had a pair of cuff-links also, but he sold them--" + + "Fer a dollar'n half," put in the disreputable individual hoarsely, with an eye on the detective. + + "He is not--dead?" I implored. The tramp cleared his throat. + + "No'm," he said huskily. "He was used up pretty bad, but he weren't dead. He was comin' to hisself when I"--he stopped and looked at the detective. "I didn't steal it, Mr. Winters," he whined. "I found it in the road, honest to God, I did." + + Mr. Winters paid no attention to him. He was watching Alex. + + "I'd better tell what he told me," Alex broke in. "It will be quicker. When Jamieson--when Mr. Jamieson calls up we can start him right. Mr. Winters, I found this man trying to sell that watch on Fifth Street. He offered it to me for three dollars." + + "How did you know the watch?" Winters snapped at him. + + "I had seen it before, many times. I used it at night when I was watching at the foot of the staircase." The detective was satisfied. "When he offered the watch to me, I knew it, and I pretended I was going to buy it. We went into an alley and I got the watch." The tramp shivered. It was plain how Alex had secured the watch. "Then--I got the story from this fellow. He claims to have seen the whole affair. He says he was in an empty car--in the car the automobile struck." + + The tramp broke in here, and told his story, with frequent interpretations by Alex and Mr. Winters. He used a strange medley, in which familiar words took unfamiliar meanings, but it was gradually made clear to us. + + On the night in question the tramp had been "pounding his ear"-- this stuck to me as being graphic--in an empty box-car along the siding at Casanova. The train was going west, and due to leave at dawn. The tramp and the "brakey" were friendly, and things going well. About ten o'clock, perhaps earlier, a terrific crash against the side of the car roused him. He tried to open the door, but could not move it. He got out of the other side, and just as he did so, he heard some one groan. + + The habits of a lifetime made him cautious. He slipped on to the bumper of a car and peered through. An automobile had struck the car, and stood there on two wheels. The tail lights were burning, but the headlights were out. Two men were stooping over some one who lay on the ground. Then the taller of the two started on a dog-trot along the train looking for an empty. He found one four cars away and ran back again. The two lifted the unconscious man into the empty box-car, and, getting in themselves, stayed for three or four minutes. When they came out, after closing the sliding door, they cut up over the railroad embankment toward the town. One, the short one, seemed to limp. + + The tramp was wary. He waited for ten minutes or so. Some women came down a path to the road and inspected the automobile. When they had gone, he crawled into the box-car and closed the door again. Then he lighted a match. The figure of a man, unconscious, gagged, and with his hands tied, lay far at the end. + + The tramp lost no time; he went through his pockets, found a little money and the cuff-links, and took them. Then he loosened the gag--it had been cruelly tight--and went his way, again closing the door of the box-car. Outside on the road he found the watch. He got on the fast freight east, some time after, and rode into the city. He had sold the cuff-links, but on offering the watch to Alex he had been "copped." + + The story, with its cold recital of villainy, was done. I hardly knew if I were more anxious, or less. That it was Halsey, there could be no doubt. How badly he was hurt, how far he had been carried, were the questions that demanded immediate answer. But it was the first real information we had had; my boy had not been murdered outright. But instead of vague terrors there was now the real fear that he might be lying in some strange hospital receiving the casual attention commonly given to the charity cases. Even this, had we known it, would have been paradise to the terrible truth. I wake yet and feel myself cold and trembling with the horror of Halsey's situation for three days after his disappearance. + + Mr. Winters and Alex disposed of the tramp with a warning. It was evident he had told us all he knew. We had occasion, within a day or two, to be doubly thankful that we had given him his freedom. When Mr. Jamieson telephoned that night we had news for him; he told me what I had not realized before--that it would not be possible to find Halsey at once, even with this clue. The cars by this time, three days, might be scattered over the Union. + + But he said to keep on hoping, that it was the best news we had had. And in the meantime, consumed with anxiety as we were, things were happening at the house in rapid succession. + + We had one peaceful day--then Liddy took sick in the night. I went in when I heard her groaning, and found her with a hot-water bottle to her face, and her right cheek swollen until it was glassy. + + "Toothache?" I asked, not too gently. "You deserve it. A woman of your age, who would rather go around with an exposed nerve in her head than have the tooth pulled! It would be over in a moment." + + "So would hanging," Liddy protested, from behind the hot-water bottle. + + I was hunting around for cotton and laudanum. + + "You have a tooth just like it yourself, Miss Rachel," she whimpered. "And I'm sure Doctor Boyle's been trying to take it out for years." + + There was no laudanum, and Liddy made a terrible fuss when I proposed carbolic acid, just because I had put too much on the cotton once and burned her mouth. I'm sure it never did her any permanent harm; indeed, the doctor said afterward that living on liquid diet had been a splendid rest for her stomach. But she would have none of the acid, and she kept me awake groaning, so at last I got up and went to Gertrude's door. To my surprise, it was locked. + + I went around by the hall and into her bedroom that way. The bed was turned down, and her dressing-gown and night-dress lay ready in the little room next, but Gertrude was not there. She had not undressed. + + I don't know what terrible thoughts came to me in the minute I stood there. Through the door I could hear Liddy grumbling, with a squeal now and then when the pain stabbed harder. Then, automatically, I got the laudanum and went back to her. + + It was fully a half-hour before Liddy's groans subsided. At intervals I went to the door into the hall and looked out, but I saw and heard nothing suspicious. Finally, when Liddy had dropped into a doze, I even ventured as far as the head of the circular staircase, but there floated up to me only the even breathing of Winters, the night detective, sleeping just inside the entry. And then, far off, I heard the rapping noise that had lured Louise down the staircase that other night, two weeks before. It was over my head, and very faint--three or four short muffled taps, a pause, and then again, stealthily repeated. + + The sound of Mr. Winters' breathing was comforting; with the thought that there was help within call, something kept me from waking him. I did not move for a moment; ridiculous things Liddy had said about a ghost--I am not at all superstitious, except, perhaps, in the middle of the night, with everything dark--things like that came back to me. Almost beside me was the clothes chute. I could feel it, but I could see nothing. As I stood, listening intently, I heard a sound near me. It was vague, indefinite. Then it ceased; there was an uneasy movement and a grunt from the foot of the circular staircase, and silence again. + + I stood perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. + + Then I knew I had been right. Some one was stealthily-passing the head of the staircase and coming toward me in the dark. I leaned against the wall for support--my knees were giving way. The steps were close now, and suddenly I thought of Gertrude. Of course it was Gertrude. I put out one hand in front of me, but I touched nothing. My voice almost refused me, but I managed to gasp out, "Gertrude!" + + "Good Lord!" a man's voice exclaimed, just beside me. And then I collapsed. I felt myself going, felt some one catch me, a horrible nausea--that was all I remembered. + + When I came to it was dawn. I was lying on the bed in Louise's room, with the cherub on the ceiling staring down at me, and there was a blanket from my own bed thrown over me. I felt weak and dizzy, but I managed to get up and totter to the door. At the foot of the circular staircase Mr. Winters was still asleep. Hardly able to stand, I crept back to my room. The door into Gertrude's room was no longer locked: she was sleeping like a tired child. And in my dressing-room Liddy hugged a cold hot- water bottle, and mumbled in her sleep. + + "There's some things you can't hold with hand cuffs," she was muttering thickly. + + CHAPTER XXIX + + A SCRAP OF PAPER + + For the first time in twenty years, I kept my bed that day. Liddy was alarmed to the point of hysteria, and sent for Doctor Stewart just after breakfast. Gertrude spent the morning with me, reading something--I forget what. I was too busy with my thoughts to listen. I had said nothing to the two detectives. If Mr. Jamieson had been there, I should have told him everything, but I could not go to these strange men and tell them my niece had been missing in the middle of the night; that she had not gone to bed at all; that while I was searching for her through the house, I had met a stranger who, when I fainted, had carried me into a room and left me there, to get better or not, as it might happen. + + The whole situation was terrible: had the issues been less vital, it would have been absurd. Here we were, guarded day and night by private detectives, with an extra man to watch the grounds, and yet we might as well have lived in a Japanese paper house, for all the protection we had. + + And there was something else: the man I had met in the darkness had been even more startled than I, and about his voice, when he muttered his muffled exclamation, there was something vaguely familiar. All that morning, while Gertrude read aloud, and Liddy watched for the doctor, I was puzzling over that voice, without result. + + And there were other things, too. I wondered what Gertrude's absence from her room had to do with it all, or if it had any connection. I tried to think that she had heard the rapping noises before I did and gone to investigate, but I'm afraid I was a moral coward that day. I could not ask her. + + Perhaps the diversion was good for me. It took my mind from Halsey, and the story we had heard the night before. The day, however, was a long vigil, with every ring of the telephone full of possibilities. Doctor Walker came up, some time just after luncheon, and asked for me. + + "Go down and see him," I instructed Gertrude. "Tell him I am out--for mercy's sake don't say I'm sick. Find out what he wants, and from this time on, instruct the servants that he is not to be admitted. I loathe that man." + + Gertrude came back very soon, her face rather flushed. + + "He came to ask us to get out," she said, picking up her book with a jerk. "He says Louise Armstrong wants to come here, now that she is recovering." + + "And what did you say?" + + "I said we were very sorry we could not leave, but we would be delighted to have Louise come up here with us. He looked daggers at me. And he wanted to know if we would recommend Eliza as a cook. He has brought a patient, a man, out from town, and is increasing his establishment--that's the way he put it." + + "I wish him joy of Eliza," I said tartly. "Did he ask for Halsey?" + + "Yes. I told him that we were on the track last night, and that it was only a question of time. He said he was glad, although he didn't appear to be, but he said not to be too sanguine." + + "Do you know what I believe?" I asked. "I believe, as firmly as I believe anything, that Doctor Walker knows something about Halsey, and that he could put his finger on him, if he wanted to." + + There were several things that day that bewildered me. About three o'clock Mr. Jamieson telephoned from the Casanova station and Warner went down to meet him. I got up and dressed hastily, and the detective was shown up to my sitting-room. + + "No news?" I asked, as he entered. He tried to look encouraging, without success. I noticed that he looked tired and dusty, and, although he was ordinarily impeccable in his appearance, it was clear that he was at least two days from a razor. + + "It won't be long now, Miss Innes," he said. "I have come out here on a peculiar errand, which I will tell you about later. First, I want to ask some questions. Did any one come out here yesterday to repair the telephone, and examine the wires on the roof?" + + "Yes," I said promptly; "but it was not the telephone. He said the wiring might have caused the fire at the stable. I went up with him myself, but he only looked around." + + Mr. Jamieson smiled. + + "Good for you!" he applauded. "Don't allow any one in the house that you don't trust, and don't trust anybody. All are not electricians who wear rubber gloves." + + He refused to explain further, but he got a slip of paper out of his pocketbook and opened it carefully. + + "Listen," he said. "You heard this before and scoffed. In the light of recent developments I want you to read it again. You are a clever woman, Miss Innes. Just as surely as I sit here, there is something in this house that is wanted very anxiously by a number of people. The lines are closing up, Miss Innes." + + The paper was the one he had found among Arnold Armstrong's effects, and I read it again: + + "----by altering the plans for----rooms, may be possible. The best way, in my opinion, would be to----the plan for----in one of the----rooms----chimney." + + "I think I understand," I said slowly. "Some one is searching for the secret room, and the invaders--" + + "And the holes in the plaster--" + + "Have been in the progress of his--" + + "Or her--investigations." + + "Her?" I asked. + + "Miss Innes," the detective said, getting up, "I believe that somewhere in the walls of this house is hidden some of the money, at least, from the Traders' Bank. I believe, just as surely, that young Walker brought home from California the knowledge of something of the sort and, failing in his effort to reinstall Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter here, he, or a confederate, has tried to break into the house. On two occasions I think he succeeded." + + "On three, at least," I corrected. And then I told him about the night before. "I have been thinking hard," I concluded, "and I do not believe the man at the head of the circular staircase was Doctor Walker. I don't think he could have got in, and the voice was not his." + + Mr. Jamieson got up and paced the floor, his hands behind him. + + "There is something else that puzzles me," he said, stepping before me. "Who and what is the woman Nina Carrington? If it was she who came here as Mattie Bliss, what did she tell Halsey that sent him racing to Doctor Walker's, and then to Miss Armstrong? If we could find that woman we would have the whole thing." + + "Mr. Jamieson, did you ever think that Paul Armstrong might not have died a natural death?" + + "That is the thing we are going to try to find out," he replied. And then Gertrude came in, announcing a man below to see Mr. Jamieson. + + "I want you present at this interview, Miss Innes," he said. "May Riggs come up? He has left Doctor Walker and he has something he wants to tell us." + + Riggs came into the room diffidently, but Mr. Jamieson put him at his ease. He kept a careful eye on me, however, and slid into a chair by the door when he was asked to sit down. + + "Now, Riggs," began Mr. Jamieson kindly. "You are to say what you have to say before this lady." + + "You promised you'd keep it quiet, Mr. Jamieson." Riggs plainly did not trust me. There was nothing friendly in the glance he turned on me. + + "Yes, yes. You will be protected. But, first of all, did you bring what you promised?" + + Riggs produced a roll of papers from under his coat, and handed them over. Mr. Jamieson examined them with lively satisfaction, and passed them to me. "The blue-prints of Sunnyside," he said. "What did I tell you? Now, Riggs, we are ready." + + "I'd never have come to you, Mr. Jamieson," he began, "if it hadn't been for Miss Armstrong. When Mr. Innes was spirited away, like, and Miss Louise got sick because of it, I thought things had gone far enough. I'd done some things for the doctor before that wouldn't just bear looking into, but I turned a bit squeamish." + + "Did you help with that?" I asked, leaning forward. + + "No, ma'm. I didn't even know of it until the next day, when it came out in the Casanova Weekly Ledger. But I know who did it, all right. I'd better start at the beginning. + + "When Doctor Walker went away to California with the Armstrong family, there was talk in the town that when he came back he would be married to Miss Armstrong, and we all expected it. First thing I knew, I got a letter from him, in the west. He seemed to be excited, and he said Miss Armstrong had taken a sudden notion to go home and he sent me some money. I was to watch for her, to see if she went to Sunnyside, and wherever she was, not to lose sight of her until he got home. I traced her to the lodge, and I guess I scared you on the drive one night, Miss Innes." + + "And Rosie!" I ejaculated. + + Riggs grinned sheepishly. + + "I only wanted to make sure Miss Louise was there. Rosie started to run, and I tried to stop her and tell her some sort of a story to account for my being there. But she wouldn't wait." + + "And the broken china--in the basket?" + + "Well, broken china's death to rubber tires," he said. "I hadn't any complaint against you people here, and the Dragon Fly was a good car." + + So Rosie's highwayman was explained. + + "Well, I telegraphed the doctor where Miss Louise was and I kept an eye on her. Just a day or so before they came home with the body, I got another letter, telling me to watch for a woman who had been pitted with smallpox. Her name was Carrington, and the doctor made things pretty strong. If I found any such woman loafing around, I was not to lose sight of her for a minute until the doctor got back. + + "Well, I would have had my hands full, but the other woman didn't show up for a good while, and when she did the doctor was home." + + "Riggs," I asked suddenly, "did you get into this house a day or two after I took it, at night?" + + "I did not, Miss Innes. I have never been in the house before. Well, the Carrington woman didn't show up until the night Mr. Halsey disappeared. She came to the office late, and the doctor was out. She waited around, walking the floor and working herself into a passion. When the doctor didn't come back, she was in an awful way. She wanted me to hunt him, and when he didn't appear, she called him names; said he couldn't fool her. There was murder being done, and she would see him swing for it. + + "She struck me as being an ugly customer, and when she left, about eleven o'clock, and went across to the Armstrong place, I was not far behind her. She walked all around the house first, looking up at the windows. Then she rang the bell, and the minute the door was opened she was through it, and into the hall." + + "How long did she stay?" + + "That's the queer part of it," Riggs said eagerly. "She didn't come out that night at all. I went to bed at daylight, and that was the last I heard of her until the next day, when I saw her on a truck at the station, covered with a sheet. She'd been struck by the express and you would hardly have known her--dead, of course. I think she stayed all night in the Armstrong house, and the agent said she was crossing the track to take the up-train to town when the express struck her." + + "Another circle!" I exclaimed. "Then we are just where we started." + + "Not so bad as that, Miss Innes," Riggs said eagerly. "Nina Carrington came from the town in California where Mr. Armstrong died. Why was the doctor so afraid of her? The Carrington woman knew something. I lived with Doctor Walker seven years, and I know him well. There are few things he is afraid of. I think he killed Mr. Armstrong out in the west somewhere, that's what I think. What else he did I don't know--but he dismissed me and pretty nearly throttled me--for telling Mr. Jamieson here about Mr. Innes' having been at his office the night he disappeared, and about my hearing them quarreling." + + "What was it Warner overheard the woman say to Mr. Innes, in the library?" the detective asked me. + + "She said `I knew there was something wrong from the start. A man isn't well one day and dead the next without some reason.'" + + How perfectly it all seemed to fit! + + CHAPTER XXX + + WHEN CHURCHYARDS YAWN + + It was on Wednesday Riggs told us the story of his connection with some incidents that had been previously unexplained. Halsey had been gone since the Friday night before, and with the passage of each day I felt that his chances were lessening. I knew well enough that he might be carried thousands of miles in the box- car, locked in, perhaps, without water or food. I had read of cases where bodies had been found locked in cars on isolated sidings in the west, and my spirits went down with every hour. + + His recovery was destined to be almost as sudden as his disappearance, and was due directly to the tramp Alex had brought to Sunnyside. It seems the man was grateful for his release, and when he learned some thing of Halsey's whereabouts from another member of his fraternity--for it is a fraternity--he was prompt in letting us know. + + On Wednesday evening Mr. Jamieson, who had been down at the Armstrong house trying to see Louise--and failing--was met near the gate at Sunnyside by an individual precisely as repulsive and unkempt as the one Alex had captured. The man knew the detective, and he gave him a piece of dirty paper, on which was scrawled the words--"He's at City Hospital, Johnsville." The tramp who brought the paper pretended to know nothing, except this: the paper had been passed along from a "hobo" in Johnsville, who seemed to know the information would be valuable to us. + + Again the long distance telephone came into requisition. Mr. Jamieson called the hospital, while we crowded around him. And when there was no longer any doubt that it was Halsey, and that he would probably recover, we all laughed and cried together. I am sure I kissed Liddy, and I have had terrible moments since when I seem to remember kissing Mr. Jamieson, too, in the excitement. + + Anyhow, by eleven o'clock that night Gertrude was on her way to Johnsville, three hundred and eighty miles away, accompanied by Rosie. The domestic force was now down to Mary Anne and Liddy, with the under-gardener's wife coming every day to help out. Fortunately, Warner and the detectives were keeping bachelor hall in the lodge. Out of deference to Liddy they washed their dishes once a day, and they concocted queer messes, according to their several abilities. They had one triumph that they ate regularly for breakfast, and that clung to their clothes and their hair the rest of the day. It was bacon, hardtack and onions, fried together. They were almost pathetically grateful, however, I noticed, for an occasional broiled tenderloin. + + It was not until Gertrude and Rosie had gone and Sunnyside had settled down for the night, with Winters at the foot of the staircase, that Mr. Jamieson broached a subject he had evidently planned before he came. + + "Miss Innes," he said, stopping me as I was about to go to my room up-stairs, "how are your nerves tonight?" + + "I have none," I said happily. "With Halsey found, my troubles have gone." + + "I mean," he persisted, "do you feel as though you could go through with something rather unusual?" + + "The most unusual thing I can think of would be a peaceful night. But if anything is going to occur, don't dare to let me miss it." + + "Something is going to occur," he said. "And you're the only woman I can think of that I can take along." He looked at his watch. "Don't ask me any questions, Miss Innes. Put on heavy shoes, and some old dark clothes, and make up your mind not to be surprised at anything." + + Liddy was sleeping the sleep of the just when I went up-stairs, and I hunted out my things cautiously. The detective was waiting in the hall, and I was astonished to see Doctor Stewart with him. + + They were talking confidentially together, but when I came down they ceased. There were a few preparations to be made: the locks to be gone over, Winters to be instructed as to renewed vigilance, and then, after extinguishing the hall light, we crept, in the darkness, through the front door, and into the night. + + I asked no questions. I felt that they were doing me honor in making me one of the party, and I would show them I could be as silent as they. We went across the fields, passing through the woods that reached almost to the ruins of the stable, going over stiles now and then, and sometimes stepping over low fences. Once only somebody spoke, and then it was an emphatic bit of profanity from Doctor Stewart when he ran into a wire fence. + + We were joined at the end of five minutes by another man, who fell into step with the doctor silently. He carried something over his shoulder which I could not make out. In this way we walked for perhaps twenty minutes. I had lost all sense of direction: I merely stumbled along in silence, allowing Mr. Jamieson to guide me this way or that as the path demanded. I hardly know what I expected. Once, when through a miscalculation I jumped a little short over a ditch and landed above my shoe- tops in the water and ooze, I remember wondering if this were really I, and if I had ever tasted life until that summer. I walked along with the water sloshing in my boots, and I was actually cheerful. I remember whispering to Mr. Jamieson that I had never seen the stars so lovely, and that it was a mistake, when the Lord had made the night so beautiful, to sleep through it! + + The doctor was puffing somewhat when we finally came to a halt. I confess that just at that minute even Sunnyside seemed a cheerful spot. We had paused at the edge of a level cleared place, bordered all around with primly trimmed evergreen trees. Between them I caught a glimpse of starlight shining down on rows of white headstones and an occasional more imposing monument, or towering shaft. In spite of myself, I drew my breath in sharply. We were on the edge of the Casanova churchyard. + + I saw now both the man who had joined the party and the implements he carried. It was Alex, armed with two long-handled spades. After the first shock of surprise, I flatter myself I was both cool and quiet. We went in single file between the rows of headstones, and although, when I found myself last, I had an instinctive desire to keep looking back over my shoulder, I found that, the first uneasiness past, a cemetery at night is much the same as any other country place, filled with vague shadows and unexpected noises. Once, indeed--but Mr. Jamieson said it was an owl, and I tried to believe him. + + In the shadow of the Armstrong granite shaft we stopped. I think the doctor wanted to send me back. + + "It's no place for a woman," I heard him protesting angrily. But the detective said something about witnesses, and the doctor only came over and felt my pulse. + + "Anyhow, I don't believe you're any worse off here than you would be in that nightmare of a house," he said finally, and put his coat on the steps of the shaft for me to sit on. + + There is an air of finality about a grave: one watches the earth thrown in, with the feeling that this is the end. Whatever has gone before, whatever is to come in eternity, that particular temple of the soul has been given back to the elements from which it came. Thus, there is a sense of desecration, of a reversal of the everlasting fitness of things, in resurrecting a body from its mother clay. And yet that night, in the Casanova churchyard, I sat quietly by, and watched Alex and Mr. Jamieson steaming over their work, without a single qualm, except the fear of detection. + + The doctor kept a keen lookout, but no one appeared. Once in a while he came over to me, and gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. + + "I never expected to come to this," he said once. "There's one thing sure--I'll not be suspected of complicity. A doctor is generally supposed to be handier at burying folks than at digging them up." + + The uncanny moment came when Alex and Jamieson tossed the spades on the grass, and I confess I hid my face. There was a period of stress, I think, while the heavy coffin was being raised. I felt that my composure was going, and, for fear I would shriek, I tried to think of something else--what time Gertrude would reach Halsey--anything but the grisly reality that lay just beyond me on the grass. + + And then I heard a low exclamation from the detective and I felt the pressure of the doctor's fingers on my arm. + + "Now, Miss Innes," he said gently. "If you will come over--" + + I held on to him frantically, and somehow I got there and looked down. The lid of the casket had been raised and a silver plate on it proved we had made no mistake. But the face that showed in the light of the lantern was a face I had never seen before. The man who lay before us was not Paul Armstrong! + + CHAPTER XXXI + + BETWEEN TWO FIREPLACES + + What with the excitement of the discovery, the walk home under the stars in wet shoes and draggled skirts, and getting up-stairs and undressed without rousing Liddy, I was completely used up. What to do with my boots was the greatest puzzle of all, there being no place in the house safe from Liddy, until I decided to slip upstairs the next morning and drop them into the hole the "ghost" had made in the trunk-room wall. + + I went asleep as soon as I reached this decision, and in my dreams I lived over again the events of the night. Again I saw the group around the silent figure on the grass, and again, as had happened at the grave, I heard Alex's voice, tense and triumphant: + + "Then we've got them," he said. Only, in my dreams, he said it over and over until he seemed to shriek it in my ears. + + I wakened early, in spite of my fatigue, and lay there thinking. Who was Alex? I no longer believed that he was a gardener. Who was the man whose body we had resurrected? And where was Paul Armstrong? Probably living safely in some extraditionless country on the fortune he had stolen. Did Louise and her mother know of the shameful and wicked deception? What had Thomas known, and Mrs. Watson? Who was Nina Carrington? + + This last question, it seemed to me, was answered. In some way the woman had learned of the substitution, and had tried to use her knowledge for blackmail. Nina Carrington's own story died with her, but, however it happened, it was clear that she had carried her knowledge to Halsey the afternoon Gertrude and I were looking for clues to the man I had shot on the east veranda. Halsey had been half crazed by what he heard; it was evident that Louise was marrying Doctor Walker to keep the shameful secret, for her mother's sake. Halsey, always reckless, had gone at once to Doctor Walker and denounced him. There had been a scene, and he left on his way to the station to meet and notify Mr. Jamieson of what he had learned. The doctor was active mentally and physically. Accompanied perhaps by Riggs, who had shown himself not overscrupulous until he quarreled with his employer, he had gone across to the railroad embankment, and, by jumping in front of the car, had caused Halsey to swerve. The rest of the story we knew. + + That was my reconstructed theory of that afternoon and evening: it was almost correct--not quite. + + There was a telegram that morning from Gertrude. + + "Halsey conscious and improving. Probably home in day or so. GERTRUDE." + + With Halsey found and improving in health, and with at last something to work on, I began that day, Thursday, with fresh courage. As Mr. Jamieson had said, the lines were closing up. That I was to be caught and almost finished in the closing was happily unknown to us all. + + It was late when I got up. I lay in my bed, looking around the four walls of the room, and trying to imagine behind what one of them a secret chamber might lie. Certainly, in daylight, Sunnyside deserved its name: never was a house more cheery and open, less sinister in general appearance. There was not a corner apparently that was not open and above-board, and yet, somewhere behind its handsomely papered walls I believed firmly that there lay a hidden room, with all the possibilities it would involve. + + I made a mental note to have the house measured during the day, to discover any discrepancy between the outer and inner walls, and I tried to recall again the exact wording of the paper Jamieson had found. + + The slip had said "chimney." It was the only clue, and a house as large as Sunnyside was full of them. There was an open fireplace in my dressing-room, but none in the bedroom, and as I lay there, looking around, I thought of something that made me sit up suddenly. The trunk-room, just over my head, had an open fireplace and a brick chimney, and yet, there was nothing of the kind in my room. I got out of bed and examined the opposite wall closely. There was apparently no flue, and I knew there was none in the hall just beneath. The house was heated by steam, as I have said before. In the living-room was a huge open fireplace, but it was on the other side. + + Why did the trunk-room have both a radiator and an open fireplace? Architects were not usually erratic! It was not fifteen minutes before I was up-stairs, armed with a tape-measure in lieu of a foot-rule, eager to justify Mr. Jamieson's opinion of my intelligence, and firmly resolved not to tell him of my suspicion until I had more than theory to go on. The hole in the trunk-room wall still yawned there, between the chimney and the outer wall. I examined it again, with no new result. The space between the brick wall and the plaster and lath one, however, had a new significance. The hole showed only one side of the chimney, and I determined to investigate what lay in the space on the other side of the mantel. + + I worked feverishly. Liddy had gone to the village to market, it being her firm belief that the store people sent short measure unless she watched the scales, and that, since the failure of the Traders' Bank, we must watch the corners; and I knew that what I wanted to do must be done before she came back. I had no tools, but after rummaging around I found a pair of garden scissors and a hatchet, and thus armed, I set to work. The plaster came out easily: the lathing was more obstinate. It gave under the blows, only to spring back into place again, and the necessity for caution made it doubly hard. + + I had a blister on my palm when at last the hatchet went through and fell with what sounded like the report of a gun to my overstrained nerves. I sat on a trunk, waiting to hear Liddy fly up the stairs, with the household behind her, like the tail of a comet. But nothing happened, and with a growing feeling of uncanniness I set to work enlarging the opening. + + The result was absolutely nil. When I could hold a lighted candle in the opening, I saw precisely what I had seen on the other side of the chimney--a space between the true wall and the false one, possibly seven feet long and about three feet wide. It was in no sense of the word a secret chamber, and it was evident it had not been disturbed since the house was built. It was a supreme disappointment. + + It had been Mr. Jamieson's idea that the hidden room, if there was one, would be found somewhere near the circular staircase. In fact, I knew that he had once investigated the entire length of the clothes chute, hanging to a rope, with this in view. I was reluctantly about to concede that he had been right, when my eyes fell on the mantel and fireplace. The latter had evidently never been used: it was closed with a metal fire front, and only when the front refused to move, and investigation showed that it was not intended to be moved, did my spirits revive. + + I hurried into the next room. Yes, sure enough, there was a similar mantel and fireplace there, similarly closed. In both rooms the chimney flue extended well out from the wall. I measured with the tape-line, my hands trembling so that I could scarcely hold it. They extended two feet and a half into each room, which, with the three feet of space between the two partitions, made eight feet to be accounted for. Eight feet in one direction and almost seven in the other--what a chimney it was! + + But I had only located the hidden room. I was not in it, and no amount of pressing on the carving of the wooden mantels, no search of the floors for loose boards, none of the customary methods availed at all. That there was a means of entrance, and probably a simple one, I could be certain. But what? What would I find if I did get in? Was the detective right, and were the bonds and money from the Traders' Bank there? Or was our whole theory wrong? Would not Paul Armstrong have taken his booty with him? If he had not, and if Doctor Walker was in the secret, he would have known how to enter the chimney room. Then--who had dug the other hole in the false partition? + + CHAPTER XXXII + + ANNE WATSON'S STORY + + Liddy discovered the fresh break in the trunk-room wall while we were at luncheon, and ran shrieking down the stairs. She maintained that, as she entered, unseen hands had been digging at the plaster; that they had stopped when she went in, and she had felt a gust of cold damp air. In support of her story she carried in my wet and muddy boots, that I had unluckily forgotten to hide, and held them out to the detective and myself. + + "What did I tell you?" she said dramatically. "Look at 'em. They're yours, Miss Rachel--and covered with mud and soaked to the tops. I tell you, you can scoff all you like; something has been wearing your shoes. As sure as you sit there, there's the smell of the graveyard on them. How do we know they weren't tramping through the Casanova churchyard last night, and sitting on the graves!" + + Mr. Jamieson almost choked to death. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if they were doing that very thing, Liddy," he said, when he got his breath. "They certainly look like it." + + I think the detective had a plan, on which he was working, and which was meant to be a coup. But things went so fast there was no time to carry it into effect. The first thing that occurred was a message from the Charity Hospital that Mrs. Watson was dying, and had asked for me. I did not care much about going. There is a sort of melancholy pleasure to be had out of a funeral, with its pomp and ceremony, but I shrank from a death- bed. However, Liddy got out the black things and the crape veil I keep for such occasions, and I went. I left Mr. Jamieson and the day detective going over every inch of the circular staircase, pounding, probing and measuring. I was inwardly elated to think of the surprise I was going to give them that night; as it turned out, I DID surprise them almost into spasms. + + I drove from the train to the Charity Hospital, and was at once taken to a ward. There, in a gray-walled room in a high iron bed, lay Mrs. Watson. She was very weak, and she only opened her eyes and looked at me when I sat down beside her. I was conscience-stricken. We had been so engrossed that I had left this poor creature to die without even a word of sympathy. + + The nurse gave her a stimulant, and in a little while she was able to talk. So broken and half-coherent, however, was her story that I shall tell it in my own way. In an hour from the time I entered the Charity Hospital, I had heard a sad and pitiful narrative, and had seen a woman slip into the unconsciousness that is only a step from death. + + Briefly, then, the housekeeper's story was this: + + She was almost forty years old, and had been the sister-mother of a large family of children. One by one they had died, and been buried beside their parents in a little town in the Middle West. There was only one sister left, the baby, Lucy. On her the older girl had lavished all the love of an impulsive and emotional nature. When Anne, the elder, was thirty-two and Lucy was nineteen, a young man had come to the town. He was going east, after spending the summer at a celebrated ranch in Wyoming--one of those places where wealthy men send worthless and dissipated sons, for a season of temperance, fresh air and hunting. The sisters, of course, knew nothing of this, and the young man's ardor rather carried them away. In a word, seven years before, Lucy Haswell had married a young man whose name was given as Aubrey Wallace. + + Anne Haswell had married a carpenter in her native town, and was a widow. For three months everything went fairly well. Aubrey took his bride to Chicago, where they lived at a hotel. Perhaps the very unsophistication that had charmed him in Valley Mill jarred on him in the city. He had been far from a model husband, even for the three months, and when he disappeared Anne was almost thankful. It was different with the young wife, however. She drooped and fretted, and on the birth of her baby boy, she had died. Anne took the child, and named him Lucien. + + Anne had had no children of her own, and on Lucien she had lavished all her aborted maternal instinct. On one thing she was determined, however: that was that Aubrey Wallace should educate his boy. It was a part of her devotion to the child that she should be ambitious for him: he must have every opportunity. And so she came east. She drifted around, doing plain sewing and keeping a home somewhere always for the boy. Finally, however, she realized that her only training had been domestic, and she put the boy in an Episcopalian home, and secured the position of housekeeper to the Armstrongs. There she found Lucien's father, this time under his own name. It was Arnold Armstrong. + + I gathered that there was no particular enmity at that time in Anne's mind. She told him of the boy, and threatened exposure if he did not provide for him. Indeed, for a time, he did so. Then he realized that Lucien was the ruling passion in this lonely woman's life. He found out where the child was hidden, and threatened to take him away. Anne was frantic. The positions became reversed. Where Arnold had given money for Lucien's support, as the years went on he forced money from Anne Watson instead until she was always penniless. The lower Arnold sank in the scale, the heavier his demands became. With the rupture between him and his family, things were worse. Anne took the child from the home and hid him in a farmhouse near Casanova, on the Claysburg road. There she went sometimes to see the boy, and there he had taken fever. The people were Germans, and he called the farmer's wife Grossmutter. He had grown into a beautiful boy, and he was all Anne had to live for. + + The Armstrongs left for California, and Arnold's persecutions began anew. He was furious over the child's disappearance and she was afraid he would do her some hurt. She left the big house and went down to the lodge. When I had rented Sunnyside, however, she had thought the persecutions would stop. She had applied for the position of housekeeper, and secured it. + + That had been on Saturday. That night Louise arrived unexpectedly. Thomas sent for Mrs. Watson and then went for Arnold Armstrong at the Greenwood Club. Anne had been fond of Louise--she reminded her of Lucy. She did not know what the trouble was, but Louise had been in a state of terrible excitement. Mrs. Watson tried to hide from Arnold, but he was ugly. He left the lodge and went up to the house about two- thirty, was admitted at the east entrance and came out again very soon. Something had occurred, she didn't know what; but very soon Mr. Innes and another gentleman left, using the car. + + Thomas and she had got Louise quiet, and a little before three, Mrs. Watson started up to the house. Thomas had a key to the east entry, and gave it to her. + + On the way across the lawn she was confronted by Arnold, who for some reason was determined to get into the house. He had a golf-stick in his hand, that he had picked up somewhere, and on her refusal he had struck her with it. One hand had been badly cut, and it was that, poisoning having set in, which was killing her. She broke away in a frenzy of rage and fear, and got into the house while Gertrude and Jack Bailey were at the front door. She went up-stairs, hardly knowing what she was doing. Gertrude's door was open, and Halsey's revolver lay there on the bed. She picked it up and turning, ran part way down the circular staircase. She could hear Arnold fumbling at the lock outside. She slipped down quietly and opened the door: he was inside before she had got back to the stairs. It was quite dark, but she could see his white shirt-bosom. From the fourth step she fired. As he fell, somebody in the billiard-room screamed and ran. When the alarm was raised, she had had no time to get up-stairs: she hid in the west wing until every one was down on the lower floor. Then she slipped upstairs, and threw the revolver out of an upper window, going down again in time to admit the men from the Greenwood Club. + + If Thomas had suspected, he had never told. When she found the hand Arnold had injured was growing worse, she gave the address of Lucien at Richfield to the old man, and almost a hundred dollars. The money was for Lucien's board until she recovered. She had sent for me to ask me if I would try to interest the Armstrongs in the child. When she found herself growing worse, she had written to Mrs. Armstrong, telling her nothing but that Arnold's legitimate child was at Richfield, and imploring her to recognize him. She was dying: the boy was an Armstrong, and entitled to his father's share of the estate. The papers were in her trunk at Sunnyside, with letters from the dead man that would prove what she said. She was going; she would not be judged by earthly laws; and somewhere else perhaps Lucy would plead for her. It was she who had crept down the circular staircase, drawn by a magnet, that night Mr. Jamieson had heard some one there. Pursued, she had fled madly, anywhere--through the first door she came to. She had fallen down the clothes chute, and been saved by the basket beneath. I could have cried with relief; then it had not been Gertrude, after all! + + That was the story. Sad and tragic though it was, the very telling of it seemed to relieve the dying woman. She did not know that Thomas was dead, and I did not tell her. I promised to look after little Lucien, and sat with her until the intervals of consciousness grew shorter and finally ceased altogether. She died that night. + + CHAPTER XXXIII + + AT THE FOOT OF THE STAIRS + + As I drove rapidly up to the house from Casanova Station in the hack, I saw the detective Burns loitering across the street from the Walker place. So Jamieson was putting the screws on--lightly now, but ready to give them a twist or two, I felt certain, very soon. + + The house was quiet. Two steps of the circular staircase had been pried off, without result, and beyond a second message from Gertrude, that Halsey insisted on coming home and they would arrive that night, there was nothing new. Mr. Jamieson, having failed to locate the secret room, had gone to the village. I learned afterwards that he called at Doctor Walker's, under pretense of an attack of acute indigestion, and before he left, had inquired about the evening trains to the city. He said he had wasted a lot of time on the case, and a good bit of the mystery was in my imagination! The doctor was under the impression that the house was guarded day and night. Well, give a place a reputation like that, and you don't need a guard at all,--thus Jamieson. And sure enough, late in the afternoon, the two private detectives, accompanied by Mr. Jamieson, walked down the main street of Casanova and took a city-bound train. + + That they got off at the next station and walked back again to Sunnyside at dusk, was not known at the time. Personally, I knew nothing of either move; I had other things to absorb me at that time. + + Liddy brought me some tea while I rested after my trip, and on the tray was a small book from the Casanova library. It was called The Unseen World and had a cheerful cover on which a half-dozen sheeted figures linked hands around a headstone. + + At this point in my story, Halsey always says: "Trust a woman to add two and two together, and make six." To which I retort that if two and two plus X make six, then to discover the unknown quantity is the simplest thing in the world. That a houseful of detectives missed it entirely was because they were busy trying to prove that two and two make four. + + The depression due to my visit to the hospital left me at the prospect of seeing Halsey again that night. It was about five o'clock when Liddy left me for a nap before dinner, having put me into a gray silk dressing-gown and a pair of slippers. I listened to her retreating footsteps, and as soon as she was safely below stairs, I went up to the trunk-room. The place had not been disturbed, and I proceeded at once to try to discover the entrance to the hidden room. The openings on either side, as I have said, showed nothing but perhaps three feet of brick wall. + + There was no sign of an entrance--no levers, no hinges, to give a hint. Either the mantel or the roof, I decided, and after a half-hour at the mantel, productive of absolutely no result, I decided to try the roof. + + I am not fond of a height. The few occasions on which I have climbed a step-ladder have always left me dizzy and weak in the knees. The top of the Washington monument is as impossible to me as the elevation of the presidential chair. And yet--I climbed out on to the Sunnyside roof without a second's hesitation. Like a dog on a scent, like my bearskin progenitor, with his spear and his wild boar, to me now there was the lust of the chase, the frenzy of pursuit, the dust of battle. I got quite a little of the latter on me as I climbed from the unfinished ball-room out through a window to the roof of the east wing of the building, which was only two stories in height. + + Once out there, access to the top of the main building was rendered easy--at least it looked easy--by a small vertical iron ladder, fastened to the wall outside of the ball-room, and perhaps twelve feet high. The twelve feet looked short from below, but they were difficult to climb. I gathered my silk gown around me, and succeeded finally in making the top of the ladder. + + Once there, however, I was completely out of breath. I sat down, my feet on the top rung, and put my hair pins in more securely, while the wind bellowed my dressing-gown out like a sail. I had torn a great strip of the silk loose, and now I ruthlessly finished the destruction of my gown by jerking it free and tying it around my head. + + From far below the smallest sounds came up with peculiar distinctness. I could hear the paper boy whistling down the drive, and I heard something else. I heard the thud of a stone, and a spit, followed by a long and startled meiou from Beulah. I forgot my fear of a height, and advanced boldly almost to the edge of the roof. + + It was half-past six by that time, and growing dusk. + + "You boy, down there!" I called. + + The paper boy turned and looked around. Then, seeing nobody, he raised his eyes. It was a moment before he located me: when he did, he stood for one moment as if paralyzed, then he gave a horrible yell, and dropping his papers, bolted across the lawn to the road without stopping to look around. Once he fell, and his impetus was so great that he turned an involuntary somersault. He was up and off again without any perceptible pause, and he leaped the hedge--which I am sure under ordinary stress would have been a feat for a man. + + I am glad in this way to settle the Gray Lady story, which is still a choice morsel in Casanova. I believe the moral deduced by the village was that it is always unlucky to throw a stone at a black cat. + + With Johnny Sweeny a cloud of dust down the road, and the dinner- hour approaching, I hurried on with my investigations. Luckily, the roof was flat, and I was able to go over every inch of it. But the result was disappointing; no trap-door revealed itself, no glass window; nothing but a couple of pipes two inches across, and standing perhaps eighteen inches high and three feet apart, with a cap to prevent rain from entering and raised to permit the passage of air. I picked up a pebble from the roof and dropped it down, listening with my ear at one of the pipes. I could hear it strike on something with a sharp, metallic sound, but it was impossible for me to tell how far it had gone. + + I gave up finally and went down the ladder again, getting in through the ball-room window without being observed. I went back at once to the trunk-room, and, sitting down on a box, I gave my mind, as consistently as I could, to the problem before me. If the pipes in the roof were ventilators to the secret room, and there was no trap-door above, the entrance was probably in one of the two rooms between which it lay--unless, indeed, the room had been built, and the opening then closed with a brick and mortar wall. + + The mantel fascinated me. Made of wood and carved, the more I looked the more I wondered that I had not noticed before the absurdity of such a mantel in such a place. It was covered with scrolls and panels, and finally, by the merest accident, I pushed one of the panels to the side. It moved easily, revealing a small brass knob. + + It is not necessary to detail the fluctuations of hope and despair, and not a little fear of what lay beyond, with which I twisted and turned the knob. It moved, but nothing seemed to happen, and then I discovered the trouble. I pushed the knob vigorously to one side, and the whole mantel swung loose from the wall almost a foot, revealing a cavernous space beyond. + + I took a long breath, closed the door from the trunk-room into the hall--thank Heaven, I did not lock it--and pulling the mantel-door wide open, I stepped into the chimney-room. I had time to get a hazy view of a small portable safe, a common wooden table and a chair--then the mantel door swung to, and clicked behind me. I stood quite still for a moment, in the darkness, unable to comprehend what had happened. Then I turned and beat furiously at the door with my fists. It was closed and locked again, and my fingers in the darkness slid over a smooth wooden surface without a sign of a knob. + + I was furiously angry--at myself, at the mantel door, at everything. I did not fear suffocation; before the thought had come to me I had already seen a gleam of light from the two small ventilating pipes in the roof. They supplied air, but nothing else. The room itself was shrouded in blackness. + + I sat down in the stiff-backed chair and tried to remember how many days one could live without food and water. When that grew monotonous and rather painful, I got up and, according to the time-honored rule for people shut in unknown and ink-black prisons, I felt my way around--it was small enough, goodness knows. I felt nothing but a splintery surface of boards, and in endeavoring to get back to the chair, something struck me full in the face, and fell with the noise of a thousand explosions to the ground. When I had gathered up my nerves again, I found it had been the bulb of a swinging electric light, and that had it not been for the accident, I might have starved to death in an illuminated sepulcher. + + I must have dozed off. I am sure I did not faint. I was never more composed in my life. I remember planning, if I were not discovered, who would have my things. I knew Liddy would want my heliotrope poplin, and she's a fright in lavender. Once or twice I heard mice in the partitions, and so I sat on the table, with my feet on the chair. I imagined I could hear the search going on through the house, and once some one came into the trunk-room; I could distinctly hear footsteps. + + "In the chimney! In the chimney!" I called with all my might, and was rewarded by a piercing shriek from Liddy and the slam of the trunk-room door. + + I felt easier after that, although the room was oppressively hot and enervating. I had no doubt the search for me would now come in the right direction, and after a little, I dropped into a doze. How long I slept I do not know. + + It must have been several hours, for I had been tired from a busy day, and I wakened stiff from my awkward position. I could not remember where I was for a few minutes, and my head felt heavy and congested. Gradually I roused to my surroundings, and to the fact that in spite of the ventilators, the air was bad and growing worse. I was breathing long, gasping respirations, and my face was damp and clammy. I must have been there a long time, and the searchers were probably hunting outside the house, dredging the creek, or beating the woodland. I knew that another hour or two would find me unconscious, and with my inability to cry out would go my only chance of rescue. It was the combination of bad air and heat, probably, for some inadequate ventilation was coming through the pipes. I tried to retain my consciousness by walking the length of the room and back, over and over, but I had not the strength to keep it up, so I sat down on the table again, my back against the wall. + + The house was very still. Once my straining ears seemed to catch a footfall beneath me, possibly in my own room. I groped for the chair from the table, and pounded with it frantically on the floor. But nothing happened: I realized bitterly that if the sound was heard at all, no doubt it was classed with the other rappings that had so alarmed us recently. + + It was impossible to judge the flight of time. I measured five minutes by counting my pulse, allowing seventy-two beats to the minute. But it took eternities, and toward the last I found it hard to count; my head was confused. + + And then--I heard sounds from below me, in the house. There was a peculiar throbbing, vibrating noise that I felt rather than heard, much like the pulsing beat of fire engines in the city. For one awful moment I thought the house was on fire, and every drop of blood in my body gathered around my heart; then I knew. It was the engine of the automobile, and Halsey had come back. Hope sprang up afresh. Halsey's clear head and Gertrude's intuition might do what Liddy's hysteria and three detectives had failed in. + + After a time I thought I had been right. There was certainly something going on down below; doors were slamming, people were hurrying through the halls, and certain high notes of excited voices penetrated to me shrilly. I hoped they were coming closer, but after a time the sounds died away below, and I was left to the silence and heat, to the weight of the darkness, to the oppression of walls that seemed to close in on me and stifle me. + + The first warning I had was a stealthy fumbling at the lock of the mantel-door. With my mouth open to scream, I stopped. Perhaps the situation had rendered me acute, perhaps it was instinctive. Whatever it was, I sat without moving, and some one outside, in absolute stillness, ran his fingers over the carving of the mantel and--found the panel. + + Now the sounds below redoubled: from the clatter and jarring I knew that several people were running up the stairs, and as the sounds approached, I could even hear what they said. + + "Watch the end staircases!" Jamieson was shouting. "Damnation-- there's no light here!" And then a second later. "All together now. One--two--three--" + + The door into the trunk-room had been locked from the inside. At the second that it gave, opening against the wall with a crash and evidently tumbling somebody into the room, the stealthy fingers beyond the mantel-door gave the knob the proper impetus, and--the door swung open, and closed again. Only--and Liddy always screams and puts her fingers in her ears at this point-- only now I was not alone in the chimney room. There was some one else in the darkness, some one who breathed hard, and who was so close I could have touched him with my hand. + + I was in a paralysis of terror. Outside there were excited voices and incredulous oaths. The trunks were being jerked around in a frantic search, the windows were thrown open, only to show a sheer drop of forty feet. And the man in the room with me leaned against the mantel-door and listened. His pursuers were plainly baffled: I heard him draw a long breath, and turn to grope his way through the blackness. Then--he touched my hand, cold, clammy, death-like. + + A hand in an empty room! He drew in his breath, the sharp intaking of horror that fills lungs suddenly collapsed. Beyond jerking his hand away instantly, he made no movement. I think absolute terror had him by the throat. Then he stepped back, without turning, retreating foot by foot from The Dread in the corner, and I do not think he breathed. + + Then, with the relief of space between us, I screamed, ear- splittingly, madly, and they heard me outside. + + "In the chimney!" I shrieked. "Behind the mantel! The mantel!" + + With an oath the figure hurled itself across the room at me, and I screamed again. In his blind fury he had missed me; I heard him strike the wall. That one time I eluded him; I was across the room, and I had got the chair. He stood for a second, listening, then--he made another rush, and I struck out with my weapon. I think it stunned him, for I had a second's respite when I could hear him breathing, and some one shouted outside: + + "We--Can't--get--in. How--does--it--open?" + + But the man in the room had changed his tactics. I knew he was creeping on me, inch by inch, and I could not tell from where. And then--he caught me. He held his hand over my mouth, and I bit him. I was helpless, strangling,--and some one was trying to break in the mantel from outside. It began to yield somewhere, for a thin wedge of yellowish light was reflected on the opposite wall. When he saw that, my assailant dropped me with a curse; then--the opposite wall swung open noiselessly, closed again without a sound, and I was alone. The intruder was gone. + + "In the next room!" I called wildly. "The next room!" But the sound of blows on the mantel drowned my voice. By the time I had made them understand, a couple of minutes had elapsed. The pursuit was taken up then, by all except Alex, who was determined to liberate me. When I stepped out into the trunk-room, a free woman again, I could hear the chase far below. + + I must say, for all Alex's anxiety to set me free, he paid little enough attention to my plight. He jumped through the opening into the secret room, and picked up the portable safe. + + "I am going to put this in Mr. Halsey's room, Miss Innes," he said, "and I shall send one of the detectives to guard it." + + I hardly heard him. I wanted to laugh and cry in the same breath--to crawl into bed and have a cup of tea, and scold Liddy, and do any of the thousand natural things that I had never expected to do again. And the air! The touch of the cool night air on my face! + + As Alex and I reached the second floor, Mr. Jamieson met us. He was grave and quiet, and he nodded comprehendingly when he saw the safe. + + "Will you come with me for a moment, Miss Innes?" he asked soberly, and on my assenting, he led the way to the east wing. There were lights moving around below, and some of the maids were standing gaping down. They screamed when they saw me, and drew back to let me pass. There was a sort of hush over the scene; Alex, behind me, muttered something I could not hear, and brushed past me without ceremony. Then I realized that a man was lying doubled up at the foot of the staircase, and that Alex was stooping over him. + + As I came slowly down, Winters stepped back, and Alex straightened himself, looking at me across the body with impenetrable eyes. In his hand he held a shaggy gray wig, and before me on the floor lay the man whose headstone stood in Casanova churchyard--Paul Armstrong. + + Winters told the story in a dozen words. In his headlong flight down the circular staircase, with Winters just behind, Paul Armstrong had pitched forward violently, struck his head against the door to the east veranda, and probably broken his neck. He had died as Winters reached him. + + As the detective finished, I saw Halsey, pale and shaken, in the card-room doorway, and for the first time that night I lost my self-control. I put my arms around my boy, and for a moment he had to support me. A second later, over Halsey's shoulder, I saw something that turned my emotion into other channels, for, behind him, in the shadowy card-room, were Gertrude and Alex, the gardener, and--there is no use mincing matters--he was kissing her! + + I was unable to speak. Twice I opened my mouth: then I turned Halsey around and pointed. They were quite unconscious of us; her head was on his shoulder, his face against her hair. As it happened, it was Mr. Jamieson who broke up the tableau. + + He stepped over to Alex and touched him on the arm. + + "And now," he said quietly, "how long are you and I to play OUR little comedy, Mr. Bailey?" + + CHAPTER XXXIV + + THE ODDS AND ENDS + + Of Doctor Walker's sensational escape that night to South America, of the recovery of over a million dollars in cash and securities in the safe from the chimney room--the papers have kept the public well informed. Of my share in discovering the secret chamber they have been singularly silent. The inner history has never been told. Mr. Jamieson got all kinds of credit, and some of it he deserved, but if Jack Bailey, as Alex, had not traced Halsey and insisted on the disinterring of Paul Armstrong's casket, if he had not suspected the truth from the start, where would the detective have been? + + When Halsey learned the truth, he insisted on going the next morning, weak as he was, to Louise, and by night she was at Sunnyside, under Gertrude's particular care, while her mother had gone to Barbara Fitzhugh's. + + What Halsey said to Mrs. Armstrong I never knew, but that he was considerate and chivalrous I feel confident. It was Halsey's way always with women. + + He and Louise had no conversation together until that night. Gertrude and Alex--I mean Jack--had gone for a walk, although it was nine o'clock, and anybody but a pair of young geese would have known that dew was falling, and that it is next to impossible to get rid of a summer cold. + + At half after nine, growing weary of my own company, I went down- stairs to find the young people. At the door of the living-room I paused. Gertrude and Jack had returned and were there, sitting together on a divan, with only one lamp lighted. They did not see or hear me, and I beat a hasty retreat to the library. But here again I was driven back. Louise was sitting in a deep chair, looking the happiest I had ever seen her, with Halsey on the arm of the chair, holding her close. + + It was no place for an elderly spinster. I retired to my up- stairs sitting-room and got out Eliza Klinefelter's lavender slippers. Ah, well, the foster motherhood would soon have to be put away in camphor again. + + The next day, by degrees, I got the whole story. + + Paul Armstrong had a besetting evil--the love of money. Common enough, but he loved money, not for what it would buy, but for its own sake. An examination of the books showed no irregularities in the past year since John had been cashier, but before that, in the time of Anderson, the old cashier, who had died, much strange juggling had been done with the records. The railroad in New Mexico had apparently drained the banker's private fortune, and he determined to retrieve it by one stroke. This was nothing less than the looting of the bank's securities, turning them into money, and making his escape. + + But the law has long arms. Paul Armstrong evidently studied the situation carefully. Just as the only good Indian is a dead Indian, so the only safe defaulter is a dead defaulter. He decided to die, to all appearances, and when the hue and cry subsided, he would be able to enjoy his money almost anywhere he wished. + + The first necessity was an accomplice. The connivance of Doctor Walker was suggested by his love for Louise. The man was unscrupulous, and with the girl as a bait, Paul Armstrong soon had him fast. The plan was apparently the acme of simplicity: a small town in the west, an attack of heart disease, a body from a medical college dissecting-room shipped in a trunk to Doctor Walker by a colleague in San Francisco, and palmed off for the supposed dead banker. What was simpler? + + The woman, Nina Carrington, was the cog that slipped. What she only suspected, what she really knew, we never learned. She was a chambermaid in the hotel at C--, and it was evidently her intention to blackmail Doctor Walker. His position at that time was uncomfortable: to pay the woman to keep quiet would be confession. He denied the whole thing, and she went to Halsey. + + It was this that had taken Halsey to the doctor the night he disappeared. He accused the doctor of the deception, and, crossing the lawn, had said something cruel to Louise. Then, furious at her apparent connivance, he had started for the station. Doctor Walker and Paul Armstrong--the latter still lame where I had shot him--hurried across to the embankment, certain only of one thing. Halsey must not tell the detective what he suspected until the money had been removed from the chimney- room. They stepped into the road in front of the car to stop it, and fate played into their hands. The car struck the train, and they had only to dispose of the unconscious figure in the road. This they did as I have told. For three days Halsey lay in the box car, tied hand and foot, suffering tortures of thirst, delirious at times, and discovered by a tramp at Johnsville only in time to save his life. + + To go back to Paul Armstrong. At the last moment his plans had been frustrated. Sunnyside, with its hoard in the chimney-room, had been rented without his knowledge! Attempts to dislodge me having failed, he was driven to breaking into his own house. The ladder in the chute, the burning of the stable and the entrance through the card-room window--all were in the course of a desperate attempt to get into the chimney-room. + + Louise and her mother had, from the first, been the great stumbling-blocks. The plan had been to send Louise away until it was too late for her to interfere, but she came back to the hotel at C-- just at the wrong time. There was a terrible scene. The girl was told that something of the kind was necessary, that the bank was about to close and her stepfather would either avoid arrest and disgrace in this way, or kill himself. Fanny Armstrong was a weakling, but Louise was more difficult to manage. She had no love for her stepfather, but her devotion to her mother was entire, self-sacrificing. Forced into acquiescence by her mother's appeals, overwhelmed by the situation, the girl consented and fled. + + From somewhere in Colorado she sent an anonymous telegram to Jack Bailey at the Traders' Bank. Trapped as she was, she did not want to see an innocent man arrested. The telegram, received on Thursday, had sent the cashier to the bank that night in a frenzy. + + Louise arrived at Sunnyside and found the house rented. Not knowing what to do, she sent for Arnold at the Greenwood Club, and told him a little, not all. She told him that there was something wrong, and that the bank was about to close. That his father was responsible. Of the conspiracy she said nothing. To her surprise, Arnold already knew, through Bailey that night, that things were not right. Moreover, he suspected what Louise did not, that the money was hidden at Sunnyside. He had a scrap of paper that indicated a concealed room somewhere. + + His inherited cupidity was aroused. Eager to get Halsey and Jack Bailey out of the house, he went up to the east entry, and in the billiard-room gave the cashier what he had refused earlier in the evening--the address of Paul Armstrong in California and a telegram which had been forwarded to the club for Bailey, from Doctor Walker. It was in response to one Bailey had sent, and it said that Paul Armstrong was very ill. + + Bailey was almost desperate. He decided to go west and find Paul Armstrong, and to force him to disgorge. But the catastrophe at the bank occurred sooner than he had expected. On the moment of starting west, at Andrews Station, where Mr. Jamieson had located the car, he read that the bank had closed, and, going back, surrendered himself. + + John Bailey had known Paul Armstrong intimately. He did not believe that the money was gone; in fact, it was hardly possible in the interval since the securities had been taken. Where was it? And from some chance remark let fall some months earlier by Arnold Armstrong at a dinner, Bailey felt sure there was a hidden room at Sunnyside. He tried to see the architect of the building, but, like the contractor, if he knew of the such a room he refused any information. It was Halsey's idea that John Bailey come to the house as a gardener, and pursue his investigations as he could. His smooth upper lip had been sufficient disguise, with his change of clothes, and a hair-cut by a country barber. + + So it was Alex, Jack Bailey, who had been our ghost. Not only had he alarmed--Louise and himself, he admitted--on the circular staircase, but he had dug the hole in the trunk-room wall, and later sent Eliza into hysteria. The note Liddy had found in Gertrude's scrap-basket was from him, and it was he who had startled me into unconsciousness by the clothes chute, and, with Gertrude's help, had carried me to Louise's room. Gertrude, I learned, had watched all night beside me, in an extremity of anxiety about me. + + That old Thomas had seen his master, and thought he had seen the Sunnyside ghost, there could be no doubt. Of that story of Thomas', about seeing Jack Bailey in the footpath between the club and Sunnyside, the night Liddy and I heard the noise on the circular staircase--that, too, was right. On the night before Arnold Armstrong was murdered, Jack Bailey had made his first attempt to search for the secret room. He secured Arnold's keys from his room at the club and got into the house, armed with a golf-stick for sounding the walls. He ran against the hamper at the head of the stairs, caught his cuff-link in it, and dropped the golf-stick with a crash. He was glad enough to get away without an alarm being raised, and he took the "owl" train to town. + + The oddest thing to me was that Mr. Jamieson had known for some time that Alex was Jack Bailey. But the face of the pseudo- gardener was very queer indeed, when that night, in the card- room, the detective turned to him and said: + + "How long are you and I going to play our little comedy, MR. BAILEY?" + + Well, it is all over now. Paul Armstrong rests in Casanova churchyard, and this time there is no mistake. I went to the funeral, because I wanted to be sure he was really buried, and I looked at the step of the shaft where I had sat that night, and wondered if it was all real. Sunnyside is for sale--no, I shall not buy it. Little Lucien Armstrong is living with his step- grandmother, and she is recovering gradually from troubles that had extended over the entire period of her second marriage. Anne Watson lies not far from the man she killed, and who as surely caused her death. Thomas, the fourth victim of the conspiracy, is buried on the hill. With Nina Carrington, five lives were sacrificed in the course of this grim conspiracy. + + There will be two weddings before long, and Liddy has asked for my heliotrope poplin to wear to the church. I knew she would. She has wanted it for three years, and she was quite ugly the time I spilled coffee on it. We are very quiet, just the two of us. Liddy still clings to her ghost theory, and points to my wet and muddy boots in the trunk-room as proof. I am gray, I admit, but I haven't felt as well in a dozen years. Sometimes, when I am bored, I ring for Liddy, and we talk things over. When Warner married Rosie, Liddy sniffed and said what I took for faithfulness in Rosie had been nothing but mawkishness. I have not yet outlived Liddy's contempt because I gave them silver knives and forks as a wedding gift. + + So we sit and talk, and sometimes Liddy threatens to leave, and often I discharge her, but we stay together somehow. I am talking of renting a house next year, and Liddy says to be sure there is no ghost. To be perfectly frank, I never really lived until that summer. Time has passed since I began this story. My neighbors are packing up for another summer. Liddy is having the awnings put up, and the window boxes filled. Liddy or no Liddy, I shall advertise to-morrow for a house in the country, and I don't care if it has a Circular Staircase. + + + + End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Circular Staircase + + + + Etext of The Circular Staircase + + by Mary Roberts Rinehart + + + + A free ebook from http://manybooks.net/ \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/shakespeare.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/shakespeare.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5a4ae4 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/shakespeare.txt @@ -0,0 +1,124456 @@ +This is the 100th Etext file presented by Project Gutenberg, and +is presented in cooperation with World Library, Inc., from their +Library of the Future and Shakespeare CDROMS. 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FOR __ COMPLETE SHAKESPEARE **** +["Small Print" V.12.08.93] + +<> + + +1609 + +THE SONNETS + +by William Shakespeare + + + + 1 + From fairest creatures we desire increase, + That thereby beauty's rose might never die, + But as the riper should by time decease, + His tender heir might bear his memory: + But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes, + Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, + Making a famine where abundance lies, + Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel: + Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament, + And only herald to the gaudy spring, + Within thine own bud buriest thy content, + And tender churl mak'st waste in niggarding: + Pity the world, or else this glutton be, + To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee. + + + 2 + When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, + And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, + Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now, + Will be a tattered weed of small worth held: + Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies, + Where all the treasure of thy lusty days; + To say within thine own deep sunken eyes, + Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise. + How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use, + If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine + Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse' + Proving his beauty by succession thine. + This were to be new made when thou art old, + And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold. + + + 3 + Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest, + Now is the time that face should form another, + Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, + Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. + For where is she so fair whose uneared womb + Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? + Or who is he so fond will be the tomb, + Of his self-love to stop posterity? + Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee + Calls back the lovely April of her prime, + So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, + Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time. + But if thou live remembered not to be, + Die single and thine image dies with thee. + + + 4 + Unthrifty loveliness why dost thou spend, + Upon thy self thy beauty's legacy? + Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend, + And being frank she lends to those are free: + Then beauteous niggard why dost thou abuse, + The bounteous largess given thee to give? + Profitless usurer why dost thou use + So great a sum of sums yet canst not live? + For having traffic with thy self alone, + Thou of thy self thy sweet self dost deceive, + Then how when nature calls thee to be gone, + What acceptable audit canst thou leave? + Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee, + Which used lives th' executor to be. + + + 5 + Those hours that with gentle work did frame + The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell + Will play the tyrants to the very same, + And that unfair which fairly doth excel: + For never-resting time leads summer on + To hideous winter and confounds him there, + Sap checked with frost and lusty leaves quite gone, + Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where: + Then were not summer's distillation left + A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, + Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft, + Nor it nor no remembrance what it was. + But flowers distilled though they with winter meet, + Leese but their show, their substance still lives sweet. + + + 6 + Then let not winter's ragged hand deface, + In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled: + Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place, + With beauty's treasure ere it be self-killed: + That use is not forbidden usury, + Which happies those that pay the willing loan; + That's for thy self to breed another thee, + Or ten times happier be it ten for one, + Ten times thy self were happier than thou art, + If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: + Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart, + Leaving thee living in posterity? + Be not self-willed for thou art much too fair, + To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir. + + + 7 + Lo in the orient when the gracious light + Lifts up his burning head, each under eye + Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, + Serving with looks his sacred majesty, + And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill, + Resembling strong youth in his middle age, + Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, + Attending on his golden pilgrimage: + But when from highmost pitch with weary car, + Like feeble age he reeleth from the day, + The eyes (fore duteous) now converted are + From his low tract and look another way: + So thou, thy self out-going in thy noon: + Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son. + + + 8 + Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? + Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy: + Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly, + Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? + If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, + By unions married do offend thine ear, + They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds + In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear: + Mark how one string sweet husband to another, + Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; + Resembling sire, and child, and happy mother, + Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing: + Whose speechless song being many, seeming one, + Sings this to thee, 'Thou single wilt prove none'. + + + 9 + Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye, + That thou consum'st thy self in single life? + Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die, + The world will wail thee like a makeless wife, + The world will be thy widow and still weep, + That thou no form of thee hast left behind, + When every private widow well may keep, + By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind: + Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend + Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it; + But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, + And kept unused the user so destroys it: + No love toward others in that bosom sits + That on himself such murd'rous shame commits. + + + 10 + For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any + Who for thy self art so unprovident. + Grant if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, + But that thou none lov'st is most evident: + For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate, + That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire, + Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate + Which to repair should be thy chief desire: + O change thy thought, that I may change my mind, + Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? + Be as thy presence is gracious and kind, + Or to thy self at least kind-hearted prove, + Make thee another self for love of me, + That beauty still may live in thine or thee. + + + 11 + As fast as thou shalt wane so fast thou grow'st, + In one of thine, from that which thou departest, + And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st, + Thou mayst call thine, when thou from youth convertest, + Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase, + Without this folly, age, and cold decay, + If all were minded so, the times should cease, + And threescore year would make the world away: + Let those whom nature hath not made for store, + Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: + Look whom she best endowed, she gave thee more; + Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: + She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby, + Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die. + + + 12 + When I do count the clock that tells the time, + And see the brave day sunk in hideous night, + When I behold the violet past prime, + And sable curls all silvered o'er with white: + When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, + Which erst from heat did canopy the herd + And summer's green all girded up in sheaves + Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard: + Then of thy beauty do I question make + That thou among the wastes of time must go, + Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake, + And die as fast as they see others grow, + And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence + Save breed to brave him, when he takes thee hence. + + + 13 + O that you were your self, but love you are + No longer yours, than you your self here live, + Against this coming end you should prepare, + And your sweet semblance to some other give. + So should that beauty which you hold in lease + Find no determination, then you were + Your self again after your self's decease, + When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear. + Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, + Which husbandry in honour might uphold, + Against the stormy gusts of winter's day + And barren rage of death's eternal cold? + O none but unthrifts, dear my love you know, + You had a father, let your son say so. + + + 14 + Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, + And yet methinks I have astronomy, + But not to tell of good, or evil luck, + Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality, + Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell; + Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, + Or say with princes if it shall go well + By oft predict that I in heaven find. + But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, + And constant stars in them I read such art + As truth and beauty shall together thrive + If from thy self, to store thou wouldst convert: + Or else of thee this I prognosticate, + Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date. + + + 15 + When I consider every thing that grows + Holds in perfection but a little moment. + That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows + Whereon the stars in secret influence comment. + When I perceive that men as plants increase, + Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky: + Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, + And wear their brave state out of memory. + Then the conceit of this inconstant stay, + Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, + Where wasteful time debateth with decay + To change your day of youth to sullied night, + And all in war with Time for love of you, + As he takes from you, I engraft you new. + + + 16 + But wherefore do not you a mightier way + Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time? + And fortify your self in your decay + With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? + Now stand you on the top of happy hours, + And many maiden gardens yet unset, + With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers, + Much liker than your painted counterfeit: + So should the lines of life that life repair + Which this (Time's pencil) or my pupil pen + Neither in inward worth nor outward fair + Can make you live your self in eyes of men. + To give away your self, keeps your self still, + And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill. + + + 17 + Who will believe my verse in time to come + If it were filled with your most high deserts? + Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb + Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts: + If I could write the beauty of your eyes, + And in fresh numbers number all your graces, + The age to come would say this poet lies, + Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces. + So should my papers (yellowed with their age) + Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue, + And your true rights be termed a poet's rage, + And stretched metre of an antique song. + But were some child of yours alive that time, + You should live twice in it, and in my rhyme. + + + 18 + Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? + Thou art more lovely and more temperate: + Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, + And summer's lease hath all too short a date: + Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, + And often is his gold complexion dimmed, + And every fair from fair sometime declines, + By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed: + But thy eternal summer shall not fade, + Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, + Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, + When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, + So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, + So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. + + + 19 + Devouring Time blunt thou the lion's paws, + And make the earth devour her own sweet brood, + Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, + And burn the long-lived phoenix, in her blood, + Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st, + And do whate'er thou wilt swift-footed Time + To the wide world and all her fading sweets: + But I forbid thee one most heinous crime, + O carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, + Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen, + Him in thy course untainted do allow, + For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. + Yet do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong, + My love shall in my verse ever live young. + + + 20 + A woman's face with nature's own hand painted, + Hast thou the master mistress of my passion, + A woman's gentle heart but not acquainted + With shifting change as is false women's fashion, + An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling: + Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth, + A man in hue all hues in his controlling, + Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth. + And for a woman wert thou first created, + Till nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting, + And by addition me of thee defeated, + By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. + But since she pricked thee out for women's pleasure, + Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure. + + + 21 + So is it not with me as with that muse, + Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, + Who heaven it self for ornament doth use, + And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, + Making a couplement of proud compare + With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems: + With April's first-born flowers and all things rare, + That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems. + O let me true in love but truly write, + And then believe me, my love is as fair, + As any mother's child, though not so bright + As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air: + Let them say more that like of hearsay well, + I will not praise that purpose not to sell. + + + 22 + My glass shall not persuade me I am old, + So long as youth and thou are of one date, + But when in thee time's furrows I behold, + Then look I death my days should expiate. + For all that beauty that doth cover thee, + Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, + Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me, + How can I then be elder than thou art? + O therefore love be of thyself so wary, + As I not for my self, but for thee will, + Bearing thy heart which I will keep so chary + As tender nurse her babe from faring ill. + Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain, + Thou gav'st me thine not to give back again. + + + 23 + As an unperfect actor on the stage, + Who with his fear is put beside his part, + Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, + Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart; + So I for fear of trust, forget to say, + The perfect ceremony of love's rite, + And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, + O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might: + O let my looks be then the eloquence, + And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, + Who plead for love, and look for recompense, + More than that tongue that more hath more expressed. + O learn to read what silent love hath writ, + To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. + + + 24 + Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled, + Thy beauty's form in table of my heart, + My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, + And perspective it is best painter's art. + For through the painter must you see his skill, + To find where your true image pictured lies, + Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, + That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes: + Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done, + Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me + Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun + Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; + Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, + They draw but what they see, know not the heart. + + + 25 + Let those who are in favour with their stars, + Of public honour and proud titles boast, + Whilst I whom fortune of such triumph bars + Unlooked for joy in that I honour most; + Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread, + But as the marigold at the sun's eye, + And in themselves their pride lies buried, + For at a frown they in their glory die. + The painful warrior famoused for fight, + After a thousand victories once foiled, + Is from the book of honour razed quite, + And all the rest forgot for which he toiled: + Then happy I that love and am beloved + Where I may not remove nor be removed. + + + 26 + Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage + Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit; + To thee I send this written embassage + To witness duty, not to show my wit. + Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine + May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it; + But that I hope some good conceit of thine + In thy soul's thought (all naked) will bestow it: + Till whatsoever star that guides my moving, + Points on me graciously with fair aspect, + And puts apparel on my tattered loving, + To show me worthy of thy sweet respect, + Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee, + Till then, not show my head where thou mayst prove me. + + + 27 + Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, + The dear respose for limbs with travel tired, + But then begins a journey in my head + To work my mind, when body's work's expired. + For then my thoughts (from far where I abide) + Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, + And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, + Looking on darkness which the blind do see. + Save that my soul's imaginary sight + Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, + Which like a jewel (hung in ghastly night) + Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new. + Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind, + For thee, and for my self, no quiet find. + + + 28 + How can I then return in happy plight + That am debarred the benefit of rest? + When day's oppression is not eased by night, + But day by night and night by day oppressed. + And each (though enemies to either's reign) + Do in consent shake hands to torture me, + The one by toil, the other to complain + How far I toil, still farther off from thee. + I tell the day to please him thou art bright, + And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven: + So flatter I the swart-complexioned night, + When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even. + But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, + And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger + + + 29 + When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, + I all alone beweep my outcast state, + And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, + And look upon my self and curse my fate, + Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, + Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, + Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, + With what I most enjoy contented least, + Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising, + Haply I think on thee, and then my state, + (Like to the lark at break of day arising + From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate, + For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, + That then I scorn to change my state with kings. + + + 30 + When to the sessions of sweet silent thought, + I summon up remembrance of things past, + I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, + And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: + Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow) + For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, + And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, + And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight. + Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, + And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er + The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, + Which I new pay as if not paid before. + But if the while I think on thee (dear friend) + All losses are restored, and sorrows end. + + + 31 + Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, + Which I by lacking have supposed dead, + And there reigns love and all love's loving parts, + And all those friends which I thought buried. + How many a holy and obsequious tear + Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye, + As interest of the dead, which now appear, + But things removed that hidden in thee lie. + Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, + Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, + Who all their parts of me to thee did give, + That due of many, now is thine alone. + Their images I loved, I view in thee, + And thou (all they) hast all the all of me. + + + 32 + If thou survive my well-contented day, + When that churl death my bones with dust shall cover + And shalt by fortune once more re-survey + These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover: + Compare them with the bett'ring of the time, + And though they be outstripped by every pen, + Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, + Exceeded by the height of happier men. + O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought, + 'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, + A dearer birth than this his love had brought + To march in ranks of better equipage: + But since he died and poets better prove, + Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love'. + + + 33 + Full many a glorious morning have I seen, + Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, + Kissing with golden face the meadows green; + Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy: + Anon permit the basest clouds to ride, + With ugly rack on his celestial face, + And from the forlorn world his visage hide + Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: + Even so my sun one early morn did shine, + With all triumphant splendour on my brow, + But out alack, he was but one hour mine, + The region cloud hath masked him from me now. + Yet him for this, my love no whit disdaineth, + Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth. + + + 34 + Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, + And make me travel forth without my cloak, + To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, + Hiding thy brav'ry in their rotten smoke? + 'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, + To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, + For no man well of such a salve can speak, + That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace: + Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief, + Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss, + Th' offender's sorrow lends but weak relief + To him that bears the strong offence's cross. + Ah but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, + And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds. + + + 35 + No more be grieved at that which thou hast done, + Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud, + Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, + And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. + All men make faults, and even I in this, + Authorizing thy trespass with compare, + My self corrupting salving thy amiss, + Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are: + For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense, + Thy adverse party is thy advocate, + And 'gainst my self a lawful plea commence: + Such civil war is in my love and hate, + That I an accessary needs must be, + To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me. + + + 36 + Let me confess that we two must be twain, + Although our undivided loves are one: + So shall those blots that do with me remain, + Without thy help, by me be borne alone. + In our two loves there is but one respect, + Though in our lives a separable spite, + Which though it alter not love's sole effect, + Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight. + I may not evermore acknowledge thee, + Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, + Nor thou with public kindness honour me, + Unless thou take that honour from thy name: + But do not so, I love thee in such sort, + As thou being mine, mine is thy good report. + + + 37 + As a decrepit father takes delight, + To see his active child do deeds of youth, + So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite + Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth. + For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit, + Or any of these all, or all, or more + Entitled in thy parts, do crowned sit, + I make my love engrafted to this store: + So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised, + Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give, + That I in thy abundance am sufficed, + And by a part of all thy glory live: + Look what is best, that best I wish in thee, + This wish I have, then ten times happy me. + + + 38 + How can my muse want subject to invent + While thou dost breathe that pour'st into my verse, + Thine own sweet argument, too excellent, + For every vulgar paper to rehearse? + O give thy self the thanks if aught in me, + Worthy perusal stand against thy sight, + For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee, + When thou thy self dost give invention light? + Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth + Than those old nine which rhymers invocate, + And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth + Eternal numbers to outlive long date. + If my slight muse do please these curious days, + The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise. + + + 39 + O how thy worth with manners may I sing, + When thou art all the better part of me? + What can mine own praise to mine own self bring: + And what is't but mine own when I praise thee? + Even for this, let us divided live, + And our dear love lose name of single one, + That by this separation I may give: + That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone: + O absence what a torment wouldst thou prove, + Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave, + To entertain the time with thoughts of love, + Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive. + And that thou teachest how to make one twain, + By praising him here who doth hence remain. + + + 40 + Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all, + What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? + No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call, + All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more: + Then if for my love, thou my love receivest, + I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest, + But yet be blamed, if thou thy self deceivest + By wilful taste of what thy self refusest. + I do forgive thy robbery gentle thief + Although thou steal thee all my poverty: + And yet love knows it is a greater grief + To bear greater wrong, than hate's known injury. + Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, + Kill me with spites yet we must not be foes. + + + 41 + Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, + When I am sometime absent from thy heart, + Thy beauty, and thy years full well befits, + For still temptation follows where thou art. + Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, + Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed. + And when a woman woos, what woman's son, + Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed? + Ay me, but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, + And chide thy beauty, and thy straying youth, + Who lead thee in their riot even there + Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth: + Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee, + Thine by thy beauty being false to me. + + + 42 + That thou hast her it is not all my grief, + And yet it may be said I loved her dearly, + That she hath thee is of my wailing chief, + A loss in love that touches me more nearly. + Loving offenders thus I will excuse ye, + Thou dost love her, because thou know'st I love her, + And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, + Suff'ring my friend for my sake to approve her. + If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, + And losing her, my friend hath found that loss, + Both find each other, and I lose both twain, + And both for my sake lay on me this cross, + But here's the joy, my friend and I are one, + Sweet flattery, then she loves but me alone. + + + 43 + When most I wink then do mine eyes best see, + For all the day they view things unrespected, + But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, + And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed. + Then thou whose shadow shadows doth make bright + How would thy shadow's form, form happy show, + To the clear day with thy much clearer light, + When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! + How would (I say) mine eyes be blessed made, + By looking on thee in the living day, + When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade, + Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay! + All days are nights to see till I see thee, + And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me. + + + 44 + If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, + Injurious distance should not stop my way, + For then despite of space I would be brought, + From limits far remote, where thou dost stay, + No matter then although my foot did stand + Upon the farthest earth removed from thee, + For nimble thought can jump both sea and land, + As soon as think the place where he would be. + But ah, thought kills me that I am not thought + To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone, + But that so much of earth and water wrought, + I must attend, time's leisure with my moan. + Receiving nought by elements so slow, + But heavy tears, badges of either's woe. + + + 45 + The other two, slight air, and purging fire, + Are both with thee, wherever I abide, + The first my thought, the other my desire, + These present-absent with swift motion slide. + For when these quicker elements are gone + In tender embassy of love to thee, + My life being made of four, with two alone, + Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy. + Until life's composition be recured, + By those swift messengers returned from thee, + Who even but now come back again assured, + Of thy fair health, recounting it to me. + This told, I joy, but then no longer glad, + I send them back again and straight grow sad. + + + 46 + Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war, + How to divide the conquest of thy sight, + Mine eye, my heart thy picture's sight would bar, + My heart, mine eye the freedom of that right, + My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie, + (A closet never pierced with crystal eyes) + But the defendant doth that plea deny, + And says in him thy fair appearance lies. + To side this title is impanelled + A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart, + And by their verdict is determined + The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part. + As thus, mine eye's due is thy outward part, + And my heart's right, thy inward love of heart. + + + 47 + Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, + And each doth good turns now unto the other, + When that mine eye is famished for a look, + Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother; + With my love's picture then my eye doth feast, + And to the painted banquet bids my heart: + Another time mine eye is my heart's guest, + And in his thoughts of love doth share a part. + So either by thy picture or my love, + Thy self away, art present still with me, + For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, + And I am still with them, and they with thee. + Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight + Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight. + + + 48 + How careful was I when I took my way, + Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, + That to my use it might unused stay + From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! + But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, + Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, + Thou best of dearest, and mine only care, + Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. + Thee have I not locked up in any chest, + Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, + Within the gentle closure of my breast, + From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part, + And even thence thou wilt be stol'n I fear, + For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear. + + + 49 + Against that time (if ever that time come) + When I shall see thee frown on my defects, + When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, + Called to that audit by advised respects, + Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass, + And scarcely greet me with that sun thine eye, + When love converted from the thing it was + Shall reasons find of settled gravity; + Against that time do I ensconce me here + Within the knowledge of mine own desert, + And this my hand, against my self uprear, + To guard the lawful reasons on thy part, + To leave poor me, thou hast the strength of laws, + Since why to love, I can allege no cause. + + + 50 + How heavy do I journey on the way, + When what I seek (my weary travel's end) + Doth teach that case and that repose to say + 'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend.' + The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, + Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, + As if by some instinct the wretch did know + His rider loved not speed being made from thee: + The bloody spur cannot provoke him on, + That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide, + Which heavily he answers with a groan, + More sharp to me than spurring to his side, + For that same groan doth put this in my mind, + My grief lies onward and my joy behind. + + + 51 + Thus can my love excuse the slow offence, + Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed, + From where thou art, why should I haste me thence? + Till I return of posting is no need. + O what excuse will my poor beast then find, + When swift extremity can seem but slow? + Then should I spur though mounted on the wind, + In winged speed no motion shall I know, + Then can no horse with my desire keep pace, + Therefore desire (of perfect'st love being made) + Shall neigh (no dull flesh) in his fiery race, + But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade, + Since from thee going, he went wilful-slow, + Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go. + + + 52 + So am I as the rich whose blessed key, + Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, + The which he will not every hour survey, + For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. + Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, + Since seldom coming in that long year set, + Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, + Or captain jewels in the carcanet. + So is the time that keeps you as my chest + Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, + To make some special instant special-blest, + By new unfolding his imprisoned pride. + Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope, + Being had to triumph, being lacked to hope. + + + 53 + What is your substance, whereof are you made, + That millions of strange shadows on you tend? + Since every one, hath every one, one shade, + And you but one, can every shadow lend: + Describe Adonis and the counterfeit, + Is poorly imitated after you, + On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, + And you in Grecian tires are painted new: + Speak of the spring, and foison of the year, + The one doth shadow of your beauty show, + The other as your bounty doth appear, + And you in every blessed shape we know. + In all external grace you have some part, + But you like none, none you for constant heart. + + + 54 + O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, + By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! + The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem + For that sweet odour, which doth in it live: + The canker blooms have full as deep a dye, + As the perfumed tincture of the roses, + Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly, + When summer's breath their masked buds discloses: + But for their virtue only is their show, + They live unwooed, and unrespected fade, + Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so, + Of their sweet deaths, are sweetest odours made: + And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, + When that shall vade, by verse distills your truth. + + + 55 + Not marble, nor the gilded monuments + Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme, + But you shall shine more bright in these contents + Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time. + When wasteful war shall statues overturn, + And broils root out the work of masonry, + Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn: + The living record of your memory. + 'Gainst death, and all-oblivious enmity + Shall you pace forth, your praise shall still find room, + Even in the eyes of all posterity + That wear this world out to the ending doom. + So till the judgment that your self arise, + You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. + + + 56 + Sweet love renew thy force, be it not said + Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, + Which but to-day by feeding is allayed, + To-morrow sharpened in his former might. + So love be thou, although to-day thou fill + Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness, + To-morrow see again, and do not kill + The spirit of love, with a perpetual dulness: + Let this sad interim like the ocean be + Which parts the shore, where two contracted new, + Come daily to the banks, that when they see: + Return of love, more blest may be the view. + Or call it winter, which being full of care, + Makes summer's welcome, thrice more wished, more rare. + + + 57 + Being your slave what should I do but tend, + Upon the hours, and times of your desire? + I have no precious time at all to spend; + Nor services to do till you require. + Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour, + Whilst I (my sovereign) watch the clock for you, + Nor think the bitterness of absence sour, + When you have bid your servant once adieu. + Nor dare I question with my jealous thought, + Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, + But like a sad slave stay and think of nought + Save where you are, how happy you make those. + So true a fool is love, that in your will, + (Though you do any thing) he thinks no ill. + + + 58 + That god forbid, that made me first your slave, + I should in thought control your times of pleasure, + Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave, + Being your vassal bound to stay your leisure. + O let me suffer (being at your beck) + Th' imprisoned absence of your liberty, + And patience tame to sufferance bide each check, + Without accusing you of injury. + Be where you list, your charter is so strong, + That you your self may privilage your time + To what you will, to you it doth belong, + Your self to pardon of self-doing crime. + I am to wait, though waiting so be hell, + Not blame your pleasure be it ill or well. + + + 59 + If there be nothing new, but that which is, + Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, + Which labouring for invention bear amis + The second burthen of a former child! + O that record could with a backward look, + Even of five hundred courses of the sun, + Show me your image in some antique book, + Since mind at first in character was done. + That I might see what the old world could say, + To this composed wonder of your frame, + Whether we are mended, or whether better they, + Or whether revolution be the same. + O sure I am the wits of former days, + To subjects worse have given admiring praise. + + + 60 + Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, + So do our minutes hasten to their end, + Each changing place with that which goes before, + In sequent toil all forwards do contend. + Nativity once in the main of light, + Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned, + Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, + And Time that gave, doth now his gift confound. + Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, + And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, + Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, + And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow. + And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand + Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. + + + 61 + Is it thy will, thy image should keep open + My heavy eyelids to the weary night? + Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, + While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? + Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee + So far from home into my deeds to pry, + To find out shames and idle hours in me, + The scope and tenure of thy jealousy? + O no, thy love though much, is not so great, + It is my love that keeps mine eye awake, + Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, + To play the watchman ever for thy sake. + For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, + From me far off, with others all too near. + + + 62 + Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye, + And all my soul, and all my every part; + And for this sin there is no remedy, + It is so grounded inward in my heart. + Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, + No shape so true, no truth of such account, + And for my self mine own worth do define, + As I all other in all worths surmount. + But when my glass shows me my self indeed + beated and chopt with tanned antiquity, + Mine own self-love quite contrary I read: + Self, so self-loving were iniquity. + 'Tis thee (my self) that for my self I praise, + Painting my age with beauty of thy days. + + + 63 + Against my love shall be as I am now + With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn, + When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow + With lines and wrinkles, when his youthful morn + Hath travelled on to age's steepy night, + And all those beauties whereof now he's king + Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight, + Stealing away the treasure of his spring: + For such a time do I now fortify + Against confounding age's cruel knife, + That he shall never cut from memory + My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life. + His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, + And they shall live, and he in them still green. + + + 64 + When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced + The rich-proud cost of outworn buried age, + When sometime lofty towers I see down-rased, + And brass eternal slave to mortal rage. + When I have seen the hungry ocean gain + Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, + And the firm soil win of the watery main, + Increasing store with loss, and loss with store. + When I have seen such interchange of State, + Or state it self confounded, to decay, + Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate + That Time will come and take my love away. + This thought is as a death which cannot choose + But weep to have, that which it fears to lose. + + + 65 + Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, + But sad mortality o'ersways their power, + How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, + Whose action is no stronger than a flower? + O how shall summer's honey breath hold out, + Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring days, + When rocks impregnable are not so stout, + Nor gates of steel so strong but time decays? + O fearful meditation, where alack, + Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? + Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back, + Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? + O none, unless this miracle have might, + That in black ink my love may still shine bright. + + + 66 + Tired with all these for restful death I cry, + As to behold desert a beggar born, + And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, + And purest faith unhappily forsworn, + And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, + And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, + And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, + And strength by limping sway disabled + And art made tongue-tied by authority, + And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill, + And simple truth miscalled simplicity, + And captive good attending captain ill. + Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, + Save that to die, I leave my love alone. + + + 67 + Ah wherefore with infection should he live, + And with his presence grace impiety, + That sin by him advantage should achieve, + And lace it self with his society? + Why should false painting imitate his cheek, + And steal dead seeming of his living hue? + Why should poor beauty indirectly seek, + Roses of shadow, since his rose is true? + Why should he live, now nature bankrupt is, + Beggared of blood to blush through lively veins, + For she hath no exchequer now but his, + And proud of many, lives upon his gains? + O him she stores, to show what wealth she had, + In days long since, before these last so bad. + + + 68 + Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, + When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, + Before these bastard signs of fair were born, + Or durst inhabit on a living brow: + Before the golden tresses of the dead, + The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, + To live a second life on second head, + Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay: + In him those holy antique hours are seen, + Without all ornament, it self and true, + Making no summer of another's green, + Robbing no old to dress his beauty new, + And him as for a map doth Nature store, + To show false Art what beauty was of yore. + + + 69 + Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view, + Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend: + All tongues (the voice of souls) give thee that due, + Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. + Thy outward thus with outward praise is crowned, + But those same tongues that give thee so thine own, + In other accents do this praise confound + By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. + They look into the beauty of thy mind, + And that in guess they measure by thy deeds, + Then churls their thoughts (although their eyes were kind) + To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds: + But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, + The soil is this, that thou dost common grow. + + + 70 + That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, + For slander's mark was ever yet the fair, + The ornament of beauty is suspect, + A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air. + So thou be good, slander doth but approve, + Thy worth the greater being wooed of time, + For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, + And thou present'st a pure unstained prime. + Thou hast passed by the ambush of young days, + Either not assailed, or victor being charged, + Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, + To tie up envy, evermore enlarged, + If some suspect of ill masked not thy show, + Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe. + + + 71 + No longer mourn for me when I am dead, + Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell + Give warning to the world that I am fled + From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell: + Nay if you read this line, remember not, + The hand that writ it, for I love you so, + That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, + If thinking on me then should make you woe. + O if (I say) you look upon this verse, + When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay, + Do not so much as my poor name rehearse; + But let your love even with my life decay. + Lest the wise world should look into your moan, + And mock you with me after I am gone. + + + 72 + O lest the world should task you to recite, + What merit lived in me that you should love + After my death (dear love) forget me quite, + For you in me can nothing worthy prove. + Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, + To do more for me than mine own desert, + And hang more praise upon deceased I, + Than niggard truth would willingly impart: + O lest your true love may seem false in this, + That you for love speak well of me untrue, + My name be buried where my body is, + And live no more to shame nor me, nor you. + For I am shamed by that which I bring forth, + And so should you, to love things nothing worth. + + + 73 + That time of year thou mayst in me behold, + When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang + Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, + Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. + In me thou seest the twilight of such day, + As after sunset fadeth in the west, + Which by and by black night doth take away, + Death's second self that seals up all in rest. + In me thou seest the glowing of such fire, + That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, + As the death-bed, whereon it must expire, + Consumed with that which it was nourished by. + This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, + To love that well, which thou must leave ere long. + + + 74 + But be contented when that fell arrest, + Without all bail shall carry me away, + My life hath in this line some interest, + Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. + When thou reviewest this, thou dost review, + The very part was consecrate to thee, + The earth can have but earth, which is his due, + My spirit is thine the better part of me, + So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, + The prey of worms, my body being dead, + The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, + Too base of thee to be remembered, + The worth of that, is that which it contains, + And that is this, and this with thee remains. + + + 75 + So are you to my thoughts as food to life, + Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground; + And for the peace of you I hold such strife + As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found. + Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon + Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure, + Now counting best to be with you alone, + Then bettered that the world may see my pleasure, + Sometime all full with feasting on your sight, + And by and by clean starved for a look, + Possessing or pursuing no delight + Save what is had, or must from you be took. + Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, + Or gluttoning on all, or all away. + + + 76 + Why is my verse so barren of new pride? + So far from variation or quick change? + Why with the time do I not glance aside + To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? + Why write I still all one, ever the same, + And keep invention in a noted weed, + That every word doth almost tell my name, + Showing their birth, and where they did proceed? + O know sweet love I always write of you, + And you and love are still my argument: + So all my best is dressing old words new, + Spending again what is already spent: + For as the sun is daily new and old, + So is my love still telling what is told. + + + 77 + Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, + Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste, + These vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear, + And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste. + The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show, + Of mouthed graves will give thee memory, + Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know, + Time's thievish progress to eternity. + Look what thy memory cannot contain, + Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find + Those children nursed, delivered from thy brain, + To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. + These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, + Shall profit thee, and much enrich thy book. + + + 78 + So oft have I invoked thee for my muse, + And found such fair assistance in my verse, + As every alien pen hath got my use, + And under thee their poesy disperse. + Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing, + And heavy ignorance aloft to fly, + Have added feathers to the learned's wing, + And given grace a double majesty. + Yet be most proud of that which I compile, + Whose influence is thine, and born of thee, + In others' works thou dost but mend the style, + And arts with thy sweet graces graced be. + But thou art all my art, and dost advance + As high as learning, my rude ignorance. + + + 79 + Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, + My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, + But now my gracious numbers are decayed, + And my sick muse doth give an other place. + I grant (sweet love) thy lovely argument + Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, + Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent, + He robs thee of, and pays it thee again, + He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word, + From thy behaviour, beauty doth he give + And found it in thy cheek: he can afford + No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live. + Then thank him not for that which he doth say, + Since what he owes thee, thou thy self dost pay. + + + 80 + O how I faint when I of you do write, + Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, + And in the praise thereof spends all his might, + To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame. + But since your worth (wide as the ocean is) + The humble as the proudest sail doth bear, + My saucy bark (inferior far to his) + On your broad main doth wilfully appear. + Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, + Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride, + Or (being wrecked) I am a worthless boat, + He of tall building, and of goodly pride. + Then if he thrive and I be cast away, + The worst was this, my love was my decay. + + + 81 + Or I shall live your epitaph to make, + Or you survive when I in earth am rotten, + From hence your memory death cannot take, + Although in me each part will be forgotten. + Your name from hence immortal life shall have, + Though I (once gone) to all the world must die, + The earth can yield me but a common grave, + When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie, + Your monument shall be my gentle verse, + Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, + And tongues to be, your being shall rehearse, + When all the breathers of this world are dead, + You still shall live (such virtue hath my pen) + Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men. + + + 82 + I grant thou wert not married to my muse, + And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook + The dedicated words which writers use + Of their fair subject, blessing every book. + Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, + Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, + And therefore art enforced to seek anew, + Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days. + And do so love, yet when they have devised, + What strained touches rhetoric can lend, + Thou truly fair, wert truly sympathized, + In true plain words, by thy true-telling friend. + And their gross painting might be better used, + Where cheeks need blood, in thee it is abused. + + + 83 + I never saw that you did painting need, + And therefore to your fair no painting set, + I found (or thought I found) you did exceed, + That barren tender of a poet's debt: + And therefore have I slept in your report, + That you your self being extant well might show, + How far a modern quill doth come too short, + Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow. + This silence for my sin you did impute, + Which shall be most my glory being dumb, + For I impair not beauty being mute, + When others would give life, and bring a tomb. + There lives more life in one of your fair eyes, + Than both your poets can in praise devise. + + + 84 + Who is it that says most, which can say more, + Than this rich praise, that you alone, are you? + In whose confine immured is the store, + Which should example where your equal grew. + Lean penury within that pen doth dwell, + That to his subject lends not some small glory, + But he that writes of you, if he can tell, + That you are you, so dignifies his story. + Let him but copy what in you is writ, + Not making worse what nature made so clear, + And such a counterpart shall fame his wit, + Making his style admired every where. + You to your beauteous blessings add a curse, + Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse. + + + 85 + My tongue-tied muse in manners holds her still, + While comments of your praise richly compiled, + Reserve their character with golden quill, + And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. + I think good thoughts, whilst other write good words, + And like unlettered clerk still cry Amen, + To every hymn that able spirit affords, + In polished form of well refined pen. + Hearing you praised, I say 'tis so, 'tis true, + And to the most of praise add something more, + But that is in my thought, whose love to you + (Though words come hindmost) holds his rank before, + Then others, for the breath of words respect, + Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect. + + + 86 + Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, + Bound for the prize of (all too precious) you, + That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, + Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? + Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write, + Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? + No, neither he, nor his compeers by night + Giving him aid, my verse astonished. + He nor that affable familiar ghost + Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, + As victors of my silence cannot boast, + I was not sick of any fear from thence. + But when your countenance filled up his line, + Then lacked I matter, that enfeebled mine. + + + 87 + Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, + And like enough thou know'st thy estimate, + The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing: + My bonds in thee are all determinate. + For how do I hold thee but by thy granting, + And for that riches where is my deserving? + The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, + And so my patent back again is swerving. + Thy self thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, + Or me to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking, + So thy great gift upon misprision growing, + Comes home again, on better judgement making. + Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter, + In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. + + + 88 + When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, + And place my merit in the eye of scorn, + Upon thy side, against my self I'll fight, + And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn: + With mine own weakness being best acquainted, + Upon thy part I can set down a story + Of faults concealed, wherein I am attainted: + That thou in losing me, shalt win much glory: + And I by this will be a gainer too, + For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, + The injuries that to my self I do, + Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. + Such is my love, to thee I so belong, + That for thy right, my self will bear all wrong. + + + 89 + Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, + And I will comment upon that offence, + Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt: + Against thy reasons making no defence. + Thou canst not (love) disgrace me half so ill, + To set a form upon desired change, + As I'll my self disgrace, knowing thy will, + I will acquaintance strangle and look strange: + Be absent from thy walks and in my tongue, + Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell, + Lest I (too much profane) should do it wronk: + And haply of our old acquaintance tell. + For thee, against my self I'll vow debate, + For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate. + + + 90 + Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now, + Now while the world is bent my deeds to cross, + join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, + And do not drop in for an after-loss: + Ah do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow, + Come in the rearward of a conquered woe, + Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, + To linger out a purposed overthrow. + If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, + When other petty griefs have done their spite, + But in the onset come, so shall I taste + At first the very worst of fortune's might. + And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, + Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so. + + + 91 + Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, + Some in their wealth, some in their body's force, + Some in their garments though new-fangled ill: + Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse. + And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, + Wherein it finds a joy above the rest, + But these particulars are not my measure, + All these I better in one general best. + Thy love is better than high birth to me, + Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' costs, + Of more delight than hawks and horses be: + And having thee, of all men's pride I boast. + Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take, + All this away, and me most wretchcd make. + + + 92 + But do thy worst to steal thy self away, + For term of life thou art assured mine, + And life no longer than thy love will stay, + For it depends upon that love of thine. + Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, + When in the least of them my life hath end, + I see, a better state to me belongs + Than that, which on thy humour doth depend. + Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind, + Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie, + O what a happy title do I find, + Happy to have thy love, happy to die! + But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? + Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not. + + + 93 + So shall I live, supposing thou art true, + Like a deceived husband, so love's face, + May still seem love to me, though altered new: + Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place. + For there can live no hatred in thine eye, + Therefore in that I cannot know thy change, + In many's looks, the false heart's history + Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange. + But heaven in thy creation did decree, + That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell, + Whate'er thy thoughts, or thy heart's workings be, + Thy looks should nothing thence, but sweetness tell. + How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, + If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show. + + + 94 + They that have power to hurt, and will do none, + That do not do the thing, they most do show, + Who moving others, are themselves as stone, + Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow: + They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, + And husband nature's riches from expense, + Tibey are the lords and owners of their faces, + Others, but stewards of their excellence: + The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, + Though to it self, it only live and die, + But if that flower with base infection meet, + The basest weed outbraves his dignity: + For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds, + Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds. + + + 95 + How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame, + Which like a canker in the fragrant rose, + Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name! + O in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose! + That tongue that tells the story of thy days, + (Making lascivious comments on thy sport) + Cannot dispraise, but in a kind of praise, + Naming thy name, blesses an ill report. + O what a mansion have those vices got, + Which for their habitation chose out thee, + Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot, + And all things turns to fair, that eyes can see! + Take heed (dear heart) of this large privilege, + The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge. + + + 96 + Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness, + Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport, + Both grace and faults are loved of more and less: + Thou mak'st faults graces, that to thee resort: + As on the finger of a throned queen, + The basest jewel will be well esteemed: + So are those errors that in thee are seen, + To truths translated, and for true things deemed. + How many lambs might the stern wolf betray, + If like a lamb he could his looks translate! + How many gazers mightst thou lead away, + if thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state! + But do not so, I love thee in such sort, + As thou being mine, mine is thy good report. + + + 97 + How like a winter hath my absence been + From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! + What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! + What old December's bareness everywhere! + And yet this time removed was summer's time, + The teeming autumn big with rich increase, + Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, + Like widowed wombs after their lords' decease: + Yet this abundant issue seemed to me + But hope of orphans, and unfathered fruit, + For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, + And thou away, the very birds are mute. + Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer, + That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near. + + + 98 + From you have I been absent in the spring, + When proud-pied April (dressed in all his trim) + Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing: + That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him. + Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell + Of different flowers in odour and in hue, + Could make me any summer's story tell: + Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew: + Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, + Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose, + They were but sweet, but figures of delight: + Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. + Yet seemed it winter still, and you away, + As with your shadow I with these did play. + + + 99 + The forward violet thus did I chide, + Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, + If not from my love's breath? The purple pride + Which on thy soft check for complexion dwells, + In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed. + The lily I condemned for thy hand, + And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair, + The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, + One blushing shame, another white despair: + A third nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both, + And to his robbery had annexed thy breath, + But for his theft in pride of all his growth + A vengeful canker eat him up to death. + More flowers I noted, yet I none could see, + But sweet, or colour it had stol'n from thee. + + + 100 + Where art thou Muse that thou forget'st so long, + To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? + Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song, + Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? + Return forgetful Muse, and straight redeem, + In gentle numbers time so idly spent, + Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem, + And gives thy pen both skill and argument. + Rise resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey, + If time have any wrinkle graven there, + If any, be a satire to decay, + And make time's spoils despised everywhere. + Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life, + So thou prevent'st his scythe, and crooked knife. + + + 101 + O truant Muse what shall be thy amends, + For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? + Both truth and beauty on my love depends: + So dost thou too, and therein dignified: + Make answer Muse, wilt thou not haply say, + 'Truth needs no colour with his colour fixed, + Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay: + But best is best, if never intermixed'? + Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb? + Excuse not silence so, for't lies in thee, + To make him much outlive a gilded tomb: + And to be praised of ages yet to be. + Then do thy office Muse, I teach thee how, + To make him seem long hence, as he shows now. + + + 102 + My love is strengthened though more weak in seeming, + I love not less, though less the show appear, + That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming, + The owner's tongue doth publish every where. + Our love was new, and then but in the spring, + When I was wont to greet it with my lays, + As Philomel in summer's front doth sing, + And stops her pipe in growth of riper days: + Not that the summer is less pleasant now + Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, + But that wild music burthens every bough, + And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. + Therefore like her, I sometime hold my tongue: + Because I would not dull you with my song. + + + 103 + Alack what poverty my muse brings forth, + That having such a scope to show her pride, + The argument all bare is of more worth + Than when it hath my added praise beside. + O blame me not if I no more can write! + Look in your glass and there appears a face, + That over-goes my blunt invention quite, + Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace. + Were it not sinful then striving to mend, + To mar the subject that before was well? + For to no other pass my verses tend, + Than of your graces and your gifts to tell. + And more, much more than in my verse can sit, + Your own glass shows you, when you look in it. + + + 104 + To me fair friend you never can be old, + For as you were when first your eye I eyed, + Such seems your beauty still: three winters cold, + Have from the forests shook three summers' pride, + Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned, + In process of the seasons have I seen, + Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned, + Since first I saw you fresh which yet are green. + Ah yet doth beauty like a dial hand, + Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived, + So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand + Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived. + For fear of which, hear this thou age unbred, + Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead. + + + 105 + Let not my love be called idolatry, + Nor my beloved as an idol show, + Since all alike my songs and praises be + To one, of one, still such, and ever so. + Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, + Still constant in a wondrous excellence, + Therefore my verse to constancy confined, + One thing expressing, leaves out difference. + Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument, + Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words, + And in this change is my invention spent, + Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. + Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone. + Which three till now, never kept seat in one. + + + 106 + When in the chronicle of wasted time, + I see descriptions of the fairest wights, + And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, + In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights, + Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, + Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, + I see their antique pen would have expressed, + Even such a beauty as you master now. + So all their praises are but prophecies + Of this our time, all you prefiguring, + And for they looked but with divining eyes, + They had not skill enough your worth to sing: + For we which now behold these present days, + Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. + + + 107 + Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul, + Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come, + Can yet the lease of my true love control, + Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. + The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured, + And the sad augurs mock their own presage, + Incertainties now crown themselves assured, + And peace proclaims olives of endless age. + Now with the drops of this most balmy time, + My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes, + Since spite of him I'll live in this poor rhyme, + While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes. + And thou in this shalt find thy monument, + When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent. + + + 108 + What's in the brain that ink may character, + Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit, + What's new to speak, what now to register, + That may express my love, or thy dear merit? + Nothing sweet boy, but yet like prayers divine, + I must each day say o'er the very same, + Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, + Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name. + So that eternal love in love's fresh case, + Weighs not the dust and injury of age, + Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, + But makes antiquity for aye his page, + Finding the first conceit of love there bred, + Where time and outward form would show it dead. + + + 109 + O never say that I was false of heart, + Though absence seemed my flame to qualify, + As easy might I from my self depart, + As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie: + That is my home of love, if I have ranged, + Like him that travels I return again, + Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, + So that my self bring water for my stain, + Never believe though in my nature reigned, + All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, + That it could so preposterously be stained, + To leave for nothing all thy sum of good: + For nothing this wide universe I call, + Save thou my rose, in it thou art my all. + + + 110 + Alas 'tis true, I have gone here and there, + And made my self a motley to the view, + Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, + Made old offences of affections new. + Most true it is, that I have looked on truth + Askance and strangely: but by all above, + These blenches gave my heart another youth, + And worse essays proved thee my best of love. + Now all is done, have what shall have no end, + Mine appetite I never more will grind + On newer proof, to try an older friend, + A god in love, to whom I am confined. + Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, + Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. + + + 111 + O for my sake do you with Fortune chide, + The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, + That did not better for my life provide, + Than public means which public manners breeds. + Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, + And almost thence my nature is subdued + To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: + Pity me then, and wish I were renewed, + Whilst like a willing patient I will drink, + Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection, + No bitterness that I will bitter think, + Nor double penance to correct correction. + Pity me then dear friend, and I assure ye, + Even that your pity is enough to cure me. + + + 112 + Your love and pity doth th' impression fill, + Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow, + For what care I who calls me well or ill, + So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? + You are my all the world, and I must strive, + To know my shames and praises from your tongue, + None else to me, nor I to none alive, + That my steeled sense or changes right or wrong. + In so profound abysm I throw all care + Of others' voices, that my adder's sense, + To critic and to flatterer stopped are: + Mark how with my neglect I do dispense. + You are so strongly in my purpose bred, + That all the world besides methinks are dead. + + + 113 + Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind, + And that which governs me to go about, + Doth part his function, and is partly blind, + Seems seeing, but effectually is out: + For it no form delivers to the heart + Of bird, of flower, or shape which it doth latch, + Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, + Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch: + For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight, + The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, + The mountain, or the sea, the day, or night: + The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature. + Incapable of more, replete with you, + My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue. + + + 114 + Or whether doth my mind being crowned with you + Drink up the monarch's plague this flattery? + Or whether shall I say mine eye saith true, + And that your love taught it this alchemy? + To make of monsters, and things indigest, + Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, + Creating every bad a perfect best + As fast as objects to his beams assemble: + O 'tis the first, 'tis flattery in my seeing, + And my great mind most kingly drinks it up, + Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing, + And to his palate doth prepare the cup. + If it be poisoned, 'tis the lesser sin, + That mine eye loves it and doth first begin. + + + 115 + Those lines that I before have writ do lie, + Even those that said I could not love you dearer, + Yet then my judgment knew no reason why, + My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer, + But reckoning time, whose millioned accidents + Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, + Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, + Divert strong minds to the course of alt'ring things: + Alas why fearing of time's tyranny, + Might I not then say 'Now I love you best,' + When I was certain o'er incertainty, + Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? + Love is a babe, then might I not say so + To give full growth to that which still doth grow. + + + 116 + Let me not to the marriage of true minds + Admit impediments, love is not love + Which alters when it alteration finds, + Or bends with the remover to remove. + O no, it is an ever-fixed mark + That looks on tempests and is never shaken; + It is the star to every wand'ring bark, + Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. + Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks + Within his bending sickle's compass come, + Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, + But bears it out even to the edge of doom: + If this be error and upon me proved, + I never writ, nor no man ever loved. + + + 117 + Accuse me thus, that I have scanted all, + Wherein I should your great deserts repay, + Forgot upon your dearest love to call, + Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day, + That I have frequent been with unknown minds, + And given to time your own dear-purchased right, + That I have hoisted sail to all the winds + Which should transport me farthest from your sight. + Book both my wilfulness and errors down, + And on just proof surmise, accumulate, + Bring me within the level of your frown, + But shoot not at me in your wakened hate: + Since my appeal says I did strive to prove + The constancy and virtue of your love. + + + 118 + Like as to make our appetite more keen + With eager compounds we our palate urge, + As to prevent our maladies unseen, + We sicken to shun sickness when we purge. + Even so being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness, + To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding; + And sick of welfare found a kind of meetness, + To be diseased ere that there was true needing. + Thus policy in love t' anticipate + The ills that were not, grew to faults assured, + And brought to medicine a healthful state + Which rank of goodness would by ill be cured. + But thence I learn and find the lesson true, + Drugs poison him that so feil sick of you. + + + 119 + What potions have I drunk of Siren tears + Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within, + Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears, + Still losing when I saw my self to win! + What wretched errors hath my heart committed, + Whilst it hath thought it self so blessed never! + How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted + In the distraction of this madding fever! + O benefit of ill, now I find true + That better is, by evil still made better. + And ruined love when it is built anew + Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater. + So I return rebuked to my content, + And gain by ills thrice more than I have spent. + + + 120 + That you were once unkind befriends me now, + And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, + Needs must I under my transgression bow, + Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel. + For if you were by my unkindness shaken + As I by yours, y'have passed a hell of time, + And I a tyrant have no leisure taken + To weigh how once I suffered in your crime. + O that our night of woe might have remembered + My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, + And soon to you, as you to me then tendered + The humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits! + But that your trespass now becomes a fee, + Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me. + + + 121 + 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed, + When not to be, receives reproach of being, + And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed, + Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing. + For why should others' false adulterate eyes + Give salutation to my sportive blood? + Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, + Which in their wills count bad what I think good? + No, I am that I am, and they that level + At my abuses, reckon up their own, + I may be straight though they themselves be bevel; + By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be shown + Unless this general evil they maintain, + All men are bad and in their badness reign. + + + 122 + Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain + Full charactered with lasting memory, + Which shall above that idle rank remain + Beyond all date even to eternity. + Or at the least, so long as brain and heart + Have faculty by nature to subsist, + Till each to razed oblivion yield his part + Of thee, thy record never can be missed: + That poor retention could not so much hold, + Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score, + Therefore to give them from me was I bold, + To trust those tables that receive thee more: + To keep an adjunct to remember thee + Were to import forgetfulness in me. + + + 123 + No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change, + Thy pyramids built up with newer might + To me are nothing novel, nothing strange, + They are but dressings Of a former sight: + Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire, + What thou dost foist upon us that is old, + And rather make them born to our desire, + Than think that we before have heard them told: + Thy registers and thee I both defy, + Not wond'ring at the present, nor the past, + For thy records, and what we see doth lie, + Made more or less by thy continual haste: + This I do vow and this shall ever be, + I will be true despite thy scythe and thee. + + + 124 + If my dear love were but the child of state, + It might for Fortune's bastard be unfathered, + As subject to time's love or to time's hate, + Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gathered. + No it was builded far from accident, + It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls + Under the blow of thralled discontent, + Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls: + It fears not policy that heretic, + Which works on leases of short-numbered hours, + But all alone stands hugely politic, + That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers. + To this I witness call the fools of time, + Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime. + + + 125 + Were't aught to me I bore the canopy, + With my extern the outward honouring, + Or laid great bases for eternity, + Which proves more short than waste or ruining? + Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour + Lose all, and more by paying too much rent + For compound sweet; forgoing simple savour, + Pitiful thrivers in their gazing spent? + No, let me be obsequious in thy heart, + And take thou my oblation, poor but free, + Which is not mixed with seconds, knows no art, + But mutual render, only me for thee. + Hence, thou suborned informer, a true soul + When most impeached, stands least in thy control. + + + 126 + O thou my lovely boy who in thy power, + Dost hold Time's fickle glass his fickle hour: + Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st, + Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st. + If Nature (sovereign mistress over wrack) + As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back, + She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill + May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill. + Yet fear her O thou minion of her pleasure, + She may detain, but not still keep her treasure! + Her audit (though delayed) answered must be, + And her quietus is to render thee. + + + 127 + In the old age black was not counted fair, + Or if it were it bore not beauty's name: + But now is black beauty's successive heir, + And beauty slandered with a bastard shame, + For since each hand hath put on nature's power, + Fairing the foul with art's false borrowed face, + Sweet beauty hath no name no holy bower, + But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. + Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black, + Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem, + At such who not born fair no beauty lack, + Slandering creation with a false esteem, + Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe, + That every tongue says beauty should look so. + + + 128 + How oft when thou, my music, music play'st, + Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds + With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st + The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, + Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap, + To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, + Whilst my poor lips which should that harvest reap, + At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand. + To be so tickled they would change their state + And situation with those dancing chips, + O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, + Making dead wood more blest than living lips, + Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, + Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. + + + 129 + Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame + Is lust in action, and till action, lust + Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody full of blame, + Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, + Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight, + Past reason hunted, and no sooner had + Past reason hated as a swallowed bait, + On purpose laid to make the taker mad. + Mad in pursuit and in possession so, + Had, having, and in quest, to have extreme, + A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe, + Before a joy proposed behind a dream. + All this the world well knows yet none knows well, + To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. + + + 130 + My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun, + Coral is far more red, than her lips red, + If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun: + If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head: + I have seen roses damasked, red and white, + But no such roses see I in her cheeks, + And in some perfumes is there more delight, + Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. + I love to hear her speak, yet well I know, + That music hath a far more pleasing sound: + I grant I never saw a goddess go, + My mistress when she walks treads on the ground. + And yet by heaven I think my love as rare, + As any she belied with false compare. + + + 131 + Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, + As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; + For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart + Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. + Yet in good faith some say that thee behold, + Thy face hath not the power to make love groan; + To say they err, I dare not be so bold, + Although I swear it to my self alone. + And to be sure that is not false I swear, + A thousand groans but thinking on thy face, + One on another's neck do witness bear + Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place. + In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, + And thence this slander as I think proceeds. + + + 132 + Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, + Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, + Have put on black, and loving mourners be, + Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. + And truly not the morning sun of heaven + Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, + Nor that full star that ushers in the even + Doth half that glory to the sober west + As those two mourning eyes become thy face: + O let it then as well beseem thy heart + To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace, + And suit thy pity like in every part. + Then will I swear beauty herself is black, + And all they foul that thy complexion lack. + + + 133 + Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan + For that deep wound it gives my friend and me; + Is't not enough to torture me alone, + But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be? + Me from my self thy cruel eye hath taken, + And my next self thou harder hast engrossed, + Of him, my self, and thee I am forsaken, + A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crossed: + Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward, + But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail, + Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard, + Thou canst not then use rigour in my gaol. + And yet thou wilt, for I being pent in thee, + Perforce am thine and all that is in me. + + + 134 + So now I have confessed that he is thine, + And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, + My self I'll forfeit, so that other mine, + Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still: + But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, + For thou art covetous, and he is kind, + He learned but surety-like to write for me, + Under that bond that him as fist doth bind. + The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, + Thou usurer that put'st forth all to use, + And sue a friend, came debtor for my sake, + So him I lose through my unkind abuse. + Him have I lost, thou hast both him and me, + He pays the whole, and yet am I not free. + + + 135 + Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will, + And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in over-plus, + More than enough am I that vex thee still, + To thy sweet will making addition thus. + Wilt thou whose will is large and spacious, + Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? + Shall will in others seem right gracious, + And in my will no fair acceptance shine? + The sea all water, yet receives rain still, + And in abundance addeth to his store, + So thou being rich in will add to thy will + One will of mine to make thy large will more. + Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill, + Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.' + + + 136 + If thy soul check thee that I come so near, + Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will', + And will thy soul knows is admitted there, + Thus far for love, my love-suit sweet fulfil. + 'Will', will fulfil the treasure of thy love, + Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one, + In things of great receipt with case we prove, + Among a number one is reckoned none. + Then in the number let me pass untold, + Though in thy store's account I one must be, + For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold, + That nothing me, a something sweet to thee. + Make but my name thy love, and love that still, + And then thou lov'st me for my name is Will. + + + 137 + Thou blind fool Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, + That they behold and see not what they see? + They know what beauty is, see where it lies, + Yet what the best is, take the worst to be. + If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks, + Be anchored in the bay where all men ride, + Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, + Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied? + Why should my heart think that a several plot, + Which my heart knows the wide world's common place? + Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not + To put fair truth upon so foul a face? + In things right true my heart and eyes have erred, + And to this false plague are they now transferred. + + + 138 + When my love swears that she is made of truth, + I do believe her though I know she lies, + That she might think me some untutored youth, + Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. + Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, + Although she knows my days are past the best, + Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue, + On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed: + But wherefore says she not she is unjust? + And wherefore say not I that I am old? + O love's best habit is in seeming trust, + And age in love, loves not to have years told. + Therefore I lie with her, and she with me, + And in our faults by lies we flattered be. + + + 139 + O call not me to justify the wrong, + That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, + Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, + Use power with power, and slay me not by art, + Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in my sight, + Dear heart forbear to glance thine eye aside, + What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might + Is more than my o'erpressed defence can bide? + Let me excuse thee, ah my love well knows, + Her pretty looks have been mine enemies, + And therefore from my face she turns my foes, + That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: + Yet do not so, but since I am near slain, + Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain. + + + 140 + Be wise as thou art cruel, do not press + My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain: + Lest sorrow lend me words and words express, + The manner of my pity-wanting pain. + If I might teach thee wit better it were, + Though not to love, yet love to tell me so, + As testy sick men when their deaths be near, + No news but health from their physicians know. + For if I should despair I should grow mad, + And in my madness might speak ill of thee, + Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, + Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be. + That I may not be so, nor thou belied, + Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide. + + + 141 + In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes, + For they in thee a thousand errors note, + But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, + Who in despite of view is pleased to dote. + Nor are mine cars with thy tongue's tune delighted, + Nor tender feeling to base touches prone, + Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited + To any sensual feast with thee alone: + But my five wits, nor my five senses can + Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, + Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man, + Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be: + Only my plague thus far I count my gain, + That she that makes me sin, awards me pain. + + + 142 + Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, + Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving, + O but with mine, compare thou thine own state, + And thou shalt find it merits not reproving, + Or if it do, not from those lips of thine, + That have profaned their scarlet ornaments, + And sealed false bonds of love as oft as mine, + Robbed others' beds' revenues of their rents. + Be it lawful I love thee as thou lov'st those, + Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee, + Root pity in thy heart that when it grows, + Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. + If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, + By self-example mayst thou be denied. + + + 143 + Lo as a careful huswife runs to catch, + One of her feathered creatures broke away, + Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch + In pursuit of the thing she would have stay: + Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, + Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent, + To follow that which flies before her face: + Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; + So run'st thou after that which flies from thee, + Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind, + But if thou catch thy hope turn back to me: + And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind. + So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will, + If thou turn back and my loud crying still. + + + 144 + Two loves I have of comfort and despair, + Which like two spirits do suggest me still, + The better angel is a man right fair: + The worser spirit a woman coloured ill. + To win me soon to hell my female evil, + Tempteth my better angel from my side, + And would corrupt my saint to be a devil: + Wooing his purity with her foul pride. + And whether that my angel be turned fiend, + Suspect I may, yet not directly tell, + But being both from me both to each friend, + I guess one angel in another's hell. + Yet this shall I ne'er know but live in doubt, + Till my bad angel fire my good one out. + + + 145 + Those lips that Love's own hand did make, + Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate', + To me that languished for her sake: + But when she saw my woeful state, + Straight in her heart did mercy come, + Chiding that tongue that ever sweet, + Was used in giving gentle doom: + And taught it thus anew to greet: + 'I hate' she altered with an end, + That followed it as gentle day, + Doth follow night who like a fiend + From heaven to hell is flown away. + 'I hate', from hate away she threw, + And saved my life saying 'not you'. + + + 146 + Poor soul the centre of my sinful earth, + My sinful earth these rebel powers array, + Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth + Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? + Why so large cost having so short a lease, + Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? + Shall worms inheritors of this excess + Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end? + Then soul live thou upon thy servant's loss, + And let that pine to aggravate thy store; + Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; + Within be fed, without be rich no more, + So shall thou feed on death, that feeds on men, + And death once dead, there's no more dying then. + + + 147 + My love is as a fever longing still, + For that which longer nurseth the disease, + Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, + Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please: + My reason the physician to my love, + Angry that his prescriptions are not kept + Hath left me, and I desperate now approve, + Desire is death, which physic did except. + Past cure I am, now reason is past care, + And frantic-mad with evermore unrest, + My thoughts and my discourse as mad men's are, + At random from the truth vainly expressed. + For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, + Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. + + + 148 + O me! what eyes hath love put in my head, + Which have no correspondence with true sight, + Or if they have, where is my judgment fled, + That censures falsely what they see aright? + If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, + What means the world to say it is not so? + If it be not, then love doth well denote, + Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no, + How can it? O how can love's eye be true, + That is so vexed with watching and with tears? + No marvel then though I mistake my view, + The sun it self sees not, till heaven clears. + O cunning love, with tears thou keep'st me blind, + Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. + + + 149 + Canst thou O cruel, say I love thee not, + When I against my self with thee partake? + Do I not think on thee when I forgot + Am of my self, all-tyrant, for thy sake? + Who hateth thee that I do call my friend, + On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon, + Nay if thou lour'st on me do I not spend + Revenge upon my self with present moan? + What merit do I in my self respect, + That is so proud thy service to despise, + When all my best doth worship thy defect, + Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? + But love hate on for now I know thy mind, + Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind. + + + 150 + O from what power hast thou this powerful might, + With insufficiency my heart to sway, + To make me give the lie to my true sight, + And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? + Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, + That in the very refuse of thy deeds, + There is such strength and warrantise of skill, + That in my mind thy worst all best exceeds? + Who taught thee how to make me love thee more, + The more I hear and see just cause of hate? + O though I love what others do abhor, + With others thou shouldst not abhor my state. + If thy unworthiness raised love in me, + More worthy I to be beloved of thee. + + + 151 + Love is too young to know what conscience is, + Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? + Then gentle cheater urge not my amiss, + Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove. + For thou betraying me, I do betray + My nobler part to my gross body's treason, + My soul doth tell my body that he may, + Triumph in love, flesh stays no farther reason, + But rising at thy name doth point out thee, + As his triumphant prize, proud of this pride, + He is contented thy poor drudge to be, + To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. + No want of conscience hold it that I call, + Her love, for whose dear love I rise and fall. + + + 152 + In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, + But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing, + In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn, + In vowing new hate after new love bearing: + But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, + When I break twenty? I am perjured most, + For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee: + And all my honest faith in thee is lost. + For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness: + Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy, + And to enlighten thee gave eyes to blindness, + Or made them swear against the thing they see. + For I have sworn thee fair: more perjured I, + To swear against the truth so foul a be. + + + 153 + Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep, + A maid of Dian's this advantage found, + And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep + In a cold valley-fountain of that ground: + Which borrowed from this holy fire of Love, + A dateless lively heat still to endure, + And grew a seeting bath which yet men prove, + Against strange maladies a sovereign cure: + But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fired, + The boy for trial needs would touch my breast, + I sick withal the help of bath desired, + And thither hied a sad distempered guest. + But found no cure, the bath for my help lies, + Where Cupid got new fire; my mistress' eyes. + + + 154 + The little Love-god lying once asleep, + Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, + Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep, + Came tripping by, but in her maiden hand, + The fairest votary took up that fire, + Which many legions of true hearts had warmed, + And so the general of hot desire, + Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarmed. + This brand she quenched in a cool well by, + Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, + Growing a bath and healthful remedy, + For men discased, but I my mistress' thrall, + Came there for cure and this by that I prove, + Love's fire heats water, water cools not love. + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1603 + +ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL + +by William Shakespeare + + +Dramatis Personae + + KING OF FRANCE + THE DUKE OF FLORENCE + BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon + LAFEU, an old lord + PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram + TWO FRENCH LORDS, serving with Bertram + + STEWARD, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon + LAVACHE, a clown and Servant to the Countess of Rousillon + A PAGE, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon + + COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, mother to Bertram + HELENA, a gentlewoman protected by the Countess + A WIDOW OF FLORENCE. + DIANA, daughter to the Widow + + + VIOLENTA, neighbour and friend to the Widow + MARIANA, neighbour and friend to the Widow + + Lords, Officers, Soldiers, etc., French and Florentine + + + +<> + + + + +SCENE: +Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles + + +ACT I. SCENE 1. +Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace + +Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, HELENA, and LAFEU, all in black + + COUNTESS. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband. + BERTRAM. And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew; + but I must attend his Majesty's command, to whom I am now in + ward, evermore in subjection. + LAFEU. You shall find of the King a husband, madam; you, sir, a + father. He that so generally is at all times good must of + necessity hold his virtue to you, whose worthiness would stir it + up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such + abundance. + COUNTESS. What hope is there of his Majesty's amendment? + LAFEU. He hath abandon'd his physicians, madam; under whose + practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other + advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time. + COUNTESS. This young gentlewoman had a father- O, that 'had,' how + sad a passage 'tis!-whose skill was almost as great as his + honesty; had it stretch'd so far, would have made nature + immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for + the King's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of + the King's disease. + LAFEU. How call'd you the man you speak of, madam? + COUNTESS. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his + great right to be so- Gerard de Narbon. + LAFEU. He was excellent indeed, madam; the King very lately spoke + of him admiringly and mourningly; he was skilful enough to have + liv'd still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. + BERTRAM. What is it, my good lord, the King languishes of? + LAFEU. A fistula, my lord. + BERTRAM. I heard not of it before. + LAFEU. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the + daughter of Gerard de Narbon? + COUNTESS. His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my + overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education + promises; her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts + fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, + there commendations go with pity-they are virtues and traitors + too. In her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives + her honesty, and achieves her goodness. + LAFEU. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. + COUNTESS. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. + The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the + tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No + more of this, Helena; go to, no more, lest it be rather thought + you affect a sorrow than to have- + HELENA. I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too. + LAFEU. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead: excessive + grief the enemy to the living. + COUNTESS. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it + soon mortal. + BERTRAM. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. + LAFEU. How understand we that? + COUNTESS. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father + In manners, as in shape! Thy blood and virtue + Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness + Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, + Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy + Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend + Under thy own life's key; be check'd for silence, + But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, + That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down, + Fall on thy head! Farewell. My lord, + 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, + Advise him. + LAFEU. He cannot want the best + That shall attend his love. + COUNTESS. Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. Exit + BERTRAM. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoughts be + servants to you! [To HELENA] Be comfortable to my mother, your + mistress, and make much of her. + LAFEU. Farewell, pretty lady; you must hold the credit of your + father. Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU + HELENA. O, were that all! I think not on my father; + And these great tears grace his remembrance more + Than those I shed for him. What was he like? + I have forgot him; my imagination + Carries no favour in't but Bertram's. + I am undone; there is no living, none, + If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one + That I should love a bright particular star + And think to wed it, he is so above me. + In his bright radiance and collateral light + Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. + Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself: + The hind that would be mated by the lion + Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague, + To see him every hour; to sit and draw + His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, + In our heart's table-heart too capable + Of every line and trick of his sweet favour. + But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy + Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here? + + Enter PAROLLES + + [Aside] One that goes with him. I love him for his sake; + And yet I know him a notorious liar, + Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; + Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him + That they take place when virtue's steely bones + Looks bleak i' th' cold wind; withal, full oft we see + Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. + PAROLLES. Save you, fair queen! + HELENA. And you, monarch! + PAROLLES. No. + HELENA. And no. + PAROLLES. Are you meditating on virginity? + HELENA. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you; let me ask you a + question. Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it + against him? + PAROLLES. Keep him out. + HELENA. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the + defence, yet is weak. Unfold to us some warlike resistance. + PAROLLES. There is none. Man, setting down before you, will + undermine you and blow you up. + HELENA. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers-up! + Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men? + PAROLLES. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown + up; marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves + made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth + of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational + increase; and there was never virgin got till virginity was first + lost. That you were made of is metal to make virgins. Virginity + by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it + is ever lost. 'Tis too cold a companion; away with't. + HELENA. I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a + virgin. + PAROLLES. There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the rule + of nature. To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse your + mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs + himself is a virgin; virginity murders itself, and should be + buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate + offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a + cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with + feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, + idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the + canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't. Out with't. + Within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly + increase; and the principal itself not much the worse. Away + with't. + HELENA. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking? + PAROLLES. Let me see. Marry, ill to like him that ne'er it likes. + 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, + the less worth. Off with't while 'tis vendible; answer the time + of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of + fashion, richly suited but unsuitable; just like the brooch and + the toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your + pie and your porridge than in your cheek. And your virginity, + your old virginity, is like one of our French wither'd pears: it + looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear; it was + formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you + anything with it? + HELENA. Not my virginity yet. + There shall your master have a thousand loves, + A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, + A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, + A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, + A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear; + His humble ambition, proud humility, + His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, + His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world + Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms + That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he- + I know not what he shall. God send him well! + The court's a learning-place, and he is one- + PAROLLES. What one, i' faith? + HELENA. That I wish well. 'Tis pity- + PAROLLES. What's pity? + HELENA. That wishing well had not a body in't + Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born, + Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, + Might with effects of them follow our friends + And show what we alone must think, which never + Returns us thanks. + + Enter PAGE + + PAGE. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. Exit PAGE + PAROLLES. Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I will + think of thee at court. + HELENA. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star. + PAROLLES. Under Mars, I. + HELENA. I especially think, under Mars. + PAROLLES. Why under Man? + HELENA. The wars hath so kept you under that you must needs be born + under Mars. + PAROLLES. When he was predominant. + HELENA. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. + PAROLLES. Why think you so? + HELENA. You go so much backward when you fight. + PAROLLES. That's for advantage. + HELENA. So is running away, when fear proposes the safety: but the + composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of + a good wing, and I like the wear well. + PAROLLES. I am so full of business I cannot answer thee acutely. I + will return perfect courtier; in the which my instruction shall + serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's + counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else + thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes + thee away. Farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; + when thou hast none, remember thy friends. Get thee a good + husband and use him as he uses thee. So, farewell. + Exit + HELENA. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, + Which we ascribe to heaven. The fated sky + Gives us free scope; only doth backward pull + Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. + What power is it which mounts my love so high, + That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? + The mightiest space in fortune nature brings + To join like likes, and kiss like native things. + Impossible be strange attempts to those + That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose + What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove + To show her merit that did miss her love? + The King's disease-my project may deceive me, + But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. Exit + + + + +ACT I. SCENE 2. +Paris. The KING'S palace + +Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING OF FRANCE, with letters, +and divers ATTENDANTS + + KING. The Florentines and Senoys are by th' ears; + Have fought with equal fortune, and continue + A braving war. + FIRST LORD. So 'tis reported, sir. + KING. Nay, 'tis most credible. We here receive it, + A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, + With caution, that the Florentine will move us + For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend + Prejudicates the business, and would seem + To have us make denial. + FIRST LORD. His love and wisdom, + Approv'd so to your Majesty, may plead + For amplest credence. + KING. He hath arm'd our answer, + And Florence is denied before he comes; + Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see + The Tuscan service, freely have they leave + To stand on either part. + SECOND LORD. It well may serve + A nursery to our gentry, who are sick + For breathing and exploit. + KING. What's he comes here? + + Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES + + FIRST LORD. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord, + Young Bertram. + KING. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; + Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, + Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts + Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. + BERTRAM. My thanks and duty are your Majesty's. + KING. I would I had that corporal soundness now, + As when thy father and myself in friendship + First tried our soldiership. He did look far + Into the service of the time, and was + Discipled of the bravest. He lasted long; + But on us both did haggish age steal on, + And wore us out of act. It much repairs me + To talk of your good father. In his youth + He had the wit which I can well observe + To-day in our young lords; but they may jest + Till their own scorn return to them unnoted + Ere they can hide their levity in honour. + So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness + Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, + His equal had awak'd them; and his honour, + Clock to itself, knew the true minute when + Exception bid him speak, and at this time + His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him + He us'd as creatures of another place; + And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, + Making them proud of his humility + In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man + Might be a copy to these younger times; + Which, followed well, would demonstrate them now + But goers backward. + BERTRAM. His good remembrance, sir, + Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb; + So in approof lives not his epitaph + As in your royal speech. + KING. Would I were with him! He would always say- + Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words + He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them + To grow there, and to bear- 'Let me not live'- + This his good melancholy oft began, + On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, + When it was out-'Let me not live' quoth he + 'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff + Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses + All but new things disdain; whose judgments are + Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies + Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd. + I, after him, do after him wish too, + Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, + I quickly were dissolved from my hive, + To give some labourers room. + SECOND LORD. You're loved, sir; + They that least lend it you shall lack you first. + KING. I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, Count, + Since the physician at your father's died? + He was much fam'd. + BERTRAM. Some six months since, my lord. + KING. If he were living, I would try him yet- + Lend me an arm-the rest have worn me out + With several applications. Nature and sickness + Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, Count; + My son's no dearer. + BERTRAM. Thank your Majesty. Exeunt [Flourish] + + + + +ACT I. SCENE 3. +Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace + +Enter COUNTESS, STEWARD, and CLOWN + + COUNTESS. I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman? + STEWARD. Madam, the care I have had to even your content I wish + might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we + wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, + when of ourselves we publish them. + COUNTESS. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah. The + complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe; 'tis my + slowness that I do not, for I know you lack not folly to commit + them and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours. + CLOWN. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow. + COUNTESS. Well, sir. + CLOWN. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though many of + the rich are damn'd; but if I may have your ladyship's good will + to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. + COUNTESS. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? + CLOWN. I do beg your good will in this case. + COUNTESS. In what case? + CLOWN. In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is no heritage; and I + think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue o' + my body; for they say bames are blessings. + COUNTESS. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. + CLOWN. My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by the + flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives. + COUNTESS. Is this all your worship's reason? + CLOWN. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are. + COUNTESS. May the world know them? + CLOWN. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh + and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent. + COUNTESS. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. + CLOWN. I am out o' friends, madam, and I hope to have friends for + my wife's sake. + COUNTESS. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. + CLOWN. Y'are shallow, madam-in great friends; for the knaves come + to do that for me which I am aweary of. He that ears my land + spares my team, and gives me leave to in the crop. If I be his + cuckold, he's my drudge. He that comforts my wife is the + cherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and + blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood + is my friend; ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If men + could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in + marriage; for young Charbon the puritan and old Poysam the + papist, howsome'er their hearts are sever'd in religion, their + heads are both one; they may jowl horns together like any deer + i' th' herd. + COUNTESS. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave? + CLOWN. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way: + + For I the ballad will repeat, + Which men full true shall find: + Your marriage comes by destiny, + Your cuckoo sings by kind. + + COUNTESS. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon. + STEWARD. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you. + Of her I am to speak. + COUNTESS. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen + I mean. + CLOWN. [Sings] + + 'Was this fair face the cause' quoth she + 'Why the Grecians sacked Troy? + Fond done, done fond, + Was this King Priam's joy?' + With that she sighed as she stood, + With that she sighed as she stood, + And gave this sentence then: + 'Among nine bad if one be good, + Among nine bad if one be good, + There's yet one good in ten.' + + COUNTESS. What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song, sirrah. + CLOWN. One good woman in ten, madam, which is a purifying o' th' + song. Would God would serve the world so all the year! We'd find + no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson. One in ten, + quoth 'a! An we might have a good woman born before every blazing + star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well: a man + may draw his heart out ere 'a pluck one. + COUNTESS. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you. + CLOWN. That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done! + Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will + wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. + I am going, forsooth. The business is for Helen to come hither. + Exit + COUNTESS. Well, now. + STEWARD. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. + COUNTESS. Faith I do. Her father bequeath'd her to me; and she + herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as + much love as she finds. There is more owing her than is paid; and + more shall be paid her than she'll demand. + STEWARD. Madam, I was very late more near her than I think she + wish'd me. Alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own + words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they + touch'd not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your + son. Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such + difference betwixt their two estates; Love no god, that would not + extend his might only where qualities were level; Diana no queen + of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surpris'd without + rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she + deliver'd in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard + virgin exclaim in; which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you + withal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you + something to know it. + COUNTESS. YOU have discharg'd this honestly; keep it to yourself. + Many likelihoods inform'd me of this before, which hung so + tott'ring in the balance that I could neither believe nor + misdoubt. Pray you leave me. Stall this in your bosom; and I + thank you for your honest care. I will speak with you further + anon. Exit STEWARD + + Enter HELENA + + Even so it was with me when I was young. + If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn + Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; + Our blood to us, this to our blood is born. + It is the show and seal of nature's truth, + Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth. + By our remembrances of days foregone, + Such were our faults, or then we thought them none. + Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now. + HELENA. What is your pleasure, madam? + COUNTESS. You know, Helen, + I am a mother to you. + HELENA. Mine honourable mistress. + COUNTESS. Nay, a mother. + Why not a mother? When I said 'a mother,' + Methought you saw a serpent. What's in 'mother' + That you start at it? I say I am your mother, + And put you in the catalogue of those + That were enwombed mine. 'Tis often seen + Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds + A native slip to us from foreign seeds. + You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, + Yet I express to you a mother's care. + God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood + To say I am thy mother? What's the matter, + That this distempered messenger of wet, + The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye? + Why, that you are my daughter? + HELENA. That I am not. + COUNTESS. I say I am your mother. + HELENA. Pardon, madam. + The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother: + I am from humble, he from honoured name; + No note upon my parents, his all noble. + My master, my dear lord he is; and I + His servant live, and will his vassal die. + He must not be my brother. + COUNTESS. Nor I your mother? + HELENA. You are my mother, madam; would you were- + So that my lord your son were not my brother- + Indeed my mother! Or were you both our mothers, + I care no more for than I do for heaven, + So I were not his sister. Can't no other, + But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? + COUNTESS. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law. + God shield you mean it not! 'daughter' and 'mother' + So strive upon your pulse. What! pale again? + My fear hath catch'd your fondness. Now I see + The myst'ry of your loneliness, and find + Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross + You love my son; invention is asham'd, + Against the proclamation of thy passion, + To say thou dost not. Therefore tell me true; + But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look, thy cheeks + Confess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes + See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours + That in their kind they speak it; only sin + And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, + That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so? + If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew; + If it be not, forswear't; howe'er, I charge thee, + As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, + To tell me truly. + HELENA. Good madam, pardon me. + COUNTESS. Do you love my son? + HELENA. Your pardon, noble mistress. + COUNTESS. Love you my son? + HELENA. Do not you love him, madam? + COUNTESS. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond + Whereof the world takes note. Come, come, disclose + The state of your affection; for your passions + Have to the full appeach'd. + HELENA. Then I confess, + Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, + That before you, and next unto high heaven, + I love your son. + My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love. + Be not offended, for it hurts not him + That he is lov'd of me; I follow him not + By any token of presumptuous suit, + Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; + Yet never know how that desert should be. + I know I love in vain, strive against hope; + Yet in this captious and intenible sieve + I still pour in the waters of my love, + And lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like, + Religious in mine error, I adore + The sun that looks upon his worshipper + But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, + Let not your hate encounter with my love, + For loving where you do; but if yourself, + Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, + Did ever in so true a flame of liking + Wish chastely and love dearly that your Dian + Was both herself and Love; O, then, give pity + To her whose state is such that cannot choose + But lend and give where she is sure to lose; + That seeks not to find that her search implies, + But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies! + COUNTESS. Had you not lately an intent-speak truly- + To go to Paris? + HELENA. Madam, I had. + COUNTESS. Wherefore? Tell true. + HELENA. I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear. + You know my father left me some prescriptions + Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading + And manifest experience had collected + For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me + In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them, + As notes whose faculties inclusive were + More than they were in note. Amongst the rest + There is a remedy, approv'd, set down, + To cure the desperate languishings whereof + The King is render'd lost. + COUNTESS. This was your motive + For Paris, was it? Speak. + HELENA. My lord your son made me to think of this, + Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King, + Had from the conversation of my thoughts + Haply been absent then. + COUNTESS. But think you, Helen, + If you should tender your supposed aid, + He would receive it? He and his physicians + Are of a mind: he, that they cannot help him; + They, that they cannot help. How shall they credit + A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, + Embowell'd of their doctrine, have let off + The danger to itself? + HELENA. There's something in't + More than my father's skill, which was the great'st + Of his profession, that his good receipt + Shall for my legacy be sanctified + By th' luckiest stars in heaven; and, would your honour + But give me leave to try success, I'd venture + The well-lost life of mine on his Grace's cure. + By such a day and hour. + COUNTESS. Dost thou believe't? + HELENA. Ay, madam, knowingly. + COUNTESS. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, + Means and attendants, and my loving greetings + To those of mine in court. I'll stay at home, + And pray God's blessing into thy attempt. + Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, + What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. Exeunt + + + +<> + + + + +ACT II. SCENE 1. +Paris. The KING'S palace + +Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING with divers young LORDS taking leave +for the Florentine war; BERTRAM and PAROLLES; ATTENDANTS + + KING. Farewell, young lords; these war-like principles + Do not throw from you. And you, my lords, farewell; + Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, + The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd, + And is enough for both. + FIRST LORD. 'Tis our hope, sir, + After well-ent'red soldiers, to return + And find your Grace in health. + KING. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart + Will not confess he owes the malady + That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; + Whether I live or die, be you the sons + Of worthy Frenchmen; let higher Italy- + Those bated that inherit but the fall + Of the last monarchy-see that you come + Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when + The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, + That fame may cry you aloud. I say farewell. + SECOND LORD. Health, at your bidding, serve your Majesty! + KING. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; + They say our French lack language to deny, + If they demand; beware of being captives + Before you serve. + BOTH. Our hearts receive your warnings. + KING. Farewell. [To ATTENDANTS] Come hither to me. + The KING retires attended + FIRST LORD. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us! + PAROLLES. 'Tis not his fault, the spark. + SECOND LORD. O, 'tis brave wars! + PAROLLES. Most admirable! I have seen those wars. + BERTRAM. I am commanded here and kept a coil with + 'Too young' and next year' and "Tis too early.' + PAROLLES. An thy mind stand to 't, boy, steal away bravely. + BERTRAM. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, + Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, + Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn + But one to dance with. By heaven, I'll steal away. + FIRST LORD. There's honour in the theft. + PAROLLES. Commit it, Count. + SECOND LORD. I am your accessary; and so farewell. + BERTRAM. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortur'd body. + FIRST LORD. Farewell, Captain. + SECOND LORD. Sweet Monsieur Parolles! + PAROLLES. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and + lustrous, a word, good metals: you shall find in the regiment of + the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of + war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword + entrench'd it. Say to him I live; and observe his reports for me. + FIRST LORD. We shall, noble Captain. + PAROLLES. Mars dote on you for his novices! Exeunt LORDS + What will ye do? + + Re-enter the KING + + BERTRAM. Stay; the King! + PAROLLES. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have + restrain'd yourself within the list of too cold an adieu. Be more + expressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the + time; there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move, under the + influence of the most receiv'd star; and though the devil lead + the measure, such are to be followed. After them, and take a more + dilated farewell. + BERTRAM. And I will do so. + PAROLLES. Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. + Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES + + Enter LAFEU + + LAFEU. [Kneeling] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings. + KING. I'll fee thee to stand up. + LAFEU. Then here's a man stands that has brought his pardon. + I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; + And that at my bidding you could so stand up. + KING. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, + And ask'd thee mercy for't. + LAFEU. Good faith, across! + But, my good lord, 'tis thus: will you be cur'd + Of your infirmity? + KING. No. + LAFEU. O, will you eat + No grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will + My noble grapes, an if my royal fox + Could reach them: I have seen a medicine + That's able to breathe life into a stone, + Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary + With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch + Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay, + To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand + And write to her a love-line. + KING. What her is this? + LAFEU. Why, Doctor She! My lord, there's one arriv'd, + If you will see her. Now, by my faith and honour, + If seriously I may convey my thoughts + In this my light deliverance, I have spoke + With one that in her sex, her years, profession, + Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me more + Than I dare blame my weakness. Will you see her, + For that is her demand, and know her business? + That done, laugh well at me. + KING. Now, good Lafeu, + Bring in the admiration, that we with the + May spend our wonder too, or take off thine + By wond'ring how thou took'st it. + LAFEU. Nay, I'll fit you, + And not be all day neither. Exit LAFEU + KING. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. + + Re-enter LAFEU with HELENA + + LAFEU. Nay, come your ways. + KING. This haste hath wings indeed. + LAFEU. Nay, come your ways; + This is his Majesty; say your mind to him. + A traitor you do look like; but such traitors + His Majesty seldom fears. I am Cressid's uncle, + That dare leave two together. Fare you well. Exit + KING. Now, fair one, does your business follow us? + HELENA. Ay, my good lord. + Gerard de Narbon was my father, + In what he did profess, well found. + KING. I knew him. + HELENA. The rather will I spare my praises towards him; + Knowing him is enough. On's bed of death + Many receipts he gave me; chiefly one, + Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, + And of his old experience th' only darling, + He bade me store up as a triple eye, + Safer than mine own two, more dear. I have so: + And, hearing your high Majesty is touch'd + With that malignant cause wherein the honour + Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, + I come to tender it, and my appliance, + With all bound humbleness. + KING. We thank you, maiden; + But may not be so credulous of cure, + When our most learned doctors leave us, and + The congregated college have concluded + That labouring art can never ransom nature + From her inaidable estate-I say we must not + So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, + To prostitute our past-cure malady + To empirics; or to dissever so + Our great self and our credit to esteem + A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. + HELENA. My duty then shall pay me for my pains. + I will no more enforce mine office on you; + Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts + A modest one to bear me back again. + KING. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful. + Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give + As one near death to those that wish him live. + But what at full I know, thou know'st no part; + I knowing all my peril, thou no art. + HELENA. What I can do can do no hurt to try, + Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. + He that of greatest works is finisher + Oft does them by the weakest minister. + So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, + When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown + From simple sources, and great seas have dried + When miracles have by the greatest been denied. + Oft expectation fails, and most oft there + Where most it promises; and oft it hits + Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits. + KING. I must not hear thee. Fare thee well, kind maid; + Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid; + Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward. + HELENA. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd. + It is not so with Him that all things knows, + As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows; + But most it is presumption in us when + The help of heaven we count the act of men. + Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent; + Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. + I am not an impostor, that proclaim + Myself against the level of mine aim; + But know I think, and think I know most sure, + My art is not past power nor you past cure. + KING. Art thou so confident? Within what space + Hop'st thou my cure? + HELENA. The greatest Grace lending grace. + Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring + Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring, + Ere twice in murk and occidental damp + Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp, + Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass + Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, + What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, + Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. + KING. Upon thy certainty and confidence + What dar'st thou venture? + HELENA. Tax of impudence, + A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame, + Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's name + Sear'd otherwise; ne worse of worst-extended + With vilest torture let my life be ended. + KING. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak + His powerful sound within an organ weak; + And what impossibility would slay + In common sense, sense saves another way. + Thy life is dear; for all that life can rate + Worth name of life in thee hath estimate: + Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all + That happiness and prime can happy call. + Thou this to hazard needs must intimate + Skill infinite or monstrous desperate. + Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, + That ministers thine own death if I die. + HELENA. If I break time, or flinch in property + Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die; + And well deserv'd. Not helping, death's my fee; + But, if I help, what do you promise me? + KING. Make thy demand. + HELENA. But will you make it even? + KING. Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven. + HELENA. Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand + What husband in thy power I will command. + Exempted be from me the arrogance + To choose from forth the royal blood of France, + My low and humble name to propagate + With any branch or image of thy state; + But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know + Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. + KING. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd, + Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd. + So make the choice of thy own time, for I, + Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely. + More should I question thee, and more I must, + Though more to know could not be more to trust, + From whence thou cam'st, how tended on. But rest + Unquestion'd welcome and undoubted blest. + Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed + As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed. + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + +ACT II. SCENE 2. +Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace + +Enter COUNTESS and CLOWN + + COUNTESS. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of your + breeding. + CLOWN. I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. I know my + business is but to the court. + COUNTESS. To the court! Why, what place make you special, when you + put off that with such contempt? But to the court! + CLOWN. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may + easily put it off at court. He that cannot make a leg, put off's + cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, + nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for + the court; but for me, I have an answer will serve all men. + COUNTESS. Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions. + CLOWN. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks-the pin + buttock, the quatch buttock, the brawn buttock, or any buttock. + COUNTESS. Will your answer serve fit to all questions? + CLOWN. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your + French crown for your taffety punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's + forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for Mayday, + as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding + quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's + mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin. + COUNTESS. Have you, I, say, an answer of such fitness for all + questions? + CLOWN. From below your duke to beneath your constable, it will fit + any question. + COUNTESS. It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit + all demands. + CLOWN. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should + speak truth of it. Here it is, and all that belongs to't. Ask me + if I am a courtier: it shall do you no harm to learn. + COUNTESS. To be young again, if we could, I will be a fool in + question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, + are you a courtier? + CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-There's a simple putting off. More, more, a + hundred of them. + COUNTESS. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you. + CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Thick, thick; spare not me. + COUNTESS. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. + CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Nay, put me to't, I warrant you. + COUNTESS. You were lately whipp'd, sir, as I think. + CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Spare not me. + COUNTESS. Do you cry 'O Lord, sir!' at your whipping, and 'spare + not me'? Indeed your 'O Lord, sir!' is very sequent to your + whipping. You would answer very well to a whipping, if you were + but bound to't. + CLOWN. I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord, sir!' I see + thing's may serve long, but not serve ever. + COUNTESS. I play the noble housewife with the time, + To entertain it so merrily with a fool. + CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Why, there't serves well again. + COUNTESS. An end, sir! To your business: give Helen this, + And urge her to a present answer back; + Commend me to my kinsmen and my son. This is not much. + CLOWN. Not much commendation to them? + COUNTESS. Not much employment for you. You understand me? + CLOWN. Most fruitfully; I am there before my legs. + COUNTESS. Haste you again. Exeunt + + + + +ACT II. SCENE 3. +Paris. The KING'S palace + +Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES + + LAFEU. They say miracles are past; and we have our philosophical + persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and + causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors, + ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit + ourselves to an unknown fear. + PAROLLES. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot + out in our latter times. + BERTRAM. And so 'tis. + LAFEU. To be relinquish'd of the artists- + PAROLLES. So I say-both of Galen and Paracelsus. + LAFEU. Of all the learned and authentic fellows- + PAROLLES. Right; so I say. + LAFEU. That gave him out incurable- + PAROLLES. Why, there 'tis; so say I too. + LAFEU. Not to be help'd- + PAROLLES. Right; as 'twere a man assur'd of a- + LAFEU. Uncertain life and sure death. + PAROLLES. Just; you say well; so would I have said. + LAFEU. I may truly say it is a novelty to the world. + PAROLLES. It is indeed. If you will have it in showing, you shall + read it in what-do-ye-call't here. + LAFEU. [Reading the ballad title] 'A Showing of a Heavenly + Effect in an Earthly Actor.' + PAROLLES. That's it; I would have said the very same. + LAFEU. Why, your dolphin is not lustier. 'Fore me, I speak in + respect- + PAROLLES. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange; that is the brief + and the tedious of it; and he's of a most facinerious spirit that + will not acknowledge it to be the- + LAFEU. Very hand of heaven. + PAROLLES. Ay; so I say. + LAFEU. In a most weak- + PAROLLES. And debile minister, great power, great transcendence; + which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made than alone + the recov'ry of the King, as to be- + LAFEU. Generally thankful. + + Enter KING, HELENA, and ATTENDANTS + + PAROLLES. I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the King. + LAFEU. Lustig, as the Dutchman says. I'll like a maid the better, + whilst I have a tooth in my head. Why, he's able to lead her a + coranto. + PAROLLES. Mort du vinaigre! Is not this Helen? + LAFEU. 'Fore God, I think so. + KING. Go, call before me all the lords in court. + Exit an ATTENDANT + Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side; + And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense + Thou has repeal'd, a second time receive + The confirmation of my promis'd gift, + Which but attends thy naming. + + Enter three or four LORDS + + Fair maid, send forth thine eye. This youthful parcel + Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, + O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice + I have to use. Thy frank election make; + Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake. + HELENA. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress + Fall, when love please. Marry, to each but one! + LAFEU. I'd give bay Curtal and his furniture + My mouth no more were broken than these boys', + And writ as little beard. + KING. Peruse them well. + Not one of those but had a noble father. + HELENA. Gentlemen, + Heaven hath through me restor'd the King to health. + ALL. We understand it, and thank heaven for you. + HELENA. I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest + That I protest I simply am a maid. + Please it your Majesty, I have done already. + The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me: + 'We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused, + Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever, + We'll ne'er come there again.' + KING. Make choice and see: + Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me. + HELENA. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, + And to imperial Love, that god most high, + Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit? + FIRST LORD. And grant it. + HELENA. Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute. + LAFEU. I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-ace for my + life. + HELENA. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, + Before I speak, too threat'ningly replies. + Love make your fortunes twenty times above + Her that so wishes, and her humble love! + SECOND LORD. No better, if you please. + HELENA. My wish receive, + Which great Love grant; and so I take my leave. + LAFEU. Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine I'd have + them whipt; or I would send them to th' Turk to make eunuchs of. + HELENA. Be not afraid that I your hand should take; + I'll never do you wrong for your own sake. + Blessing upon your vows; and in your bed + Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed! + LAFEU. These boys are boys of ice; they'll none have her. + Sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got 'em. + HELENA. You are too young, too happy, and too good, + To make yourself a son out of my blood. + FOURTH LORD. Fair one, I think not so. + LAFEU. There's one grape yet; I am sure thy father drunk wine-but + if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known + thee already. + HELENA. [To BERTRAM] I dare not say I take you; but I give + Me and my service, ever whilst I live, + Into your guiding power. This is the man. + KING. Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy wife. + BERTRAM. My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your Highness, + In such a business give me leave to use + The help of mine own eyes. + KING. Know'st thou not, Bertram, + What she has done for me? + BERTRAM. Yes, my good lord; + But never hope to know why I should marry her. + KING. Thou know'st she has rais'd me from my sickly bed. + BERTRAM. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down + Must answer for your raising? I know her well: + She had her breeding at my father's charge. + A poor physician's daughter my wife! Disdain + Rather corrupt me ever! + KING. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which + I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods, + Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, + Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off + In differences so mighty. If she be + All that is virtuous-save what thou dislik'st, + A poor physician's daughter-thou dislik'st + Of virtue for the name; but do not so. + From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, + The place is dignified by the doer's deed; + Where great additions swell's, and virtue none, + It is a dropsied honour. Good alone + Is good without a name. Vileness is so: + The property by what it is should go, + Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair; + In these to nature she's immediate heir; + And these breed honour. That is honour's scorn + Which challenges itself as honour's born + And is not like the sire. Honours thrive + When rather from our acts we them derive + Than our fore-goers. The mere word's a slave, + Debauch'd on every tomb, on every grave + A lying trophy; and as oft is dumb + Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb + Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said? + If thou canst like this creature as a maid, + I can create the rest. Virtue and she + Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me. + BERTRAM. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do 't. + KING. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose. + HELENA. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I'm glad. + Let the rest go. + KING. My honour's at the stake; which to defeat, + I must produce my power. Here, take her hand, + Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift, + That dost in vile misprision shackle up + My love and her desert; that canst not dream + We, poising us in her defective scale, + Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know + It is in us to plant thine honour where + We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt; + Obey our will, which travails in thy good; + Believe not thy disdain, but presently + Do thine own fortunes that obedient right + Which both thy duty owes and our power claims; + Or I will throw thee from my care for ever + Into the staggers and the careless lapse + Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate + Loosing upon thee in the name of justice, + Without all terms of pity. Speak; thine answer. + BERTRAM. Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit + My fancy to your eyes. When I consider + What great creation and what dole of honour + Flies where you bid it, I find that she which late + Was in my nobler thoughts most base is now + The praised of the King; who, so ennobled, + Is as 'twere born so. + KING. Take her by the hand, + And tell her she is thine; to whom I promise + A counterpoise, if not to thy estate + A balance more replete. + BERTRAM. I take her hand. + KING. Good fortune and the favour of the King + Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony + Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, + And be perform'd to-night. The solemn feast + Shall more attend upon the coming space, + Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, + Thy love's to me religious; else, does err. + Exeunt all but LAFEU and PAROLLES who stay behind, + commenting of this wedding + LAFEU. Do you hear, monsieur? A word with you. + PAROLLES. Your pleasure, sir? + LAFEU. Your lord and master did well to make his recantation. + PAROLLES. Recantation! My Lord! my master! + LAFEU. Ay; is it not a language I speak? + PAROLLES. A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody + succeeding. My master! + LAFEU. Are you companion to the Count Rousillon? + PAROLLES. To any count; to all counts; to what is man. + LAFEU. To what is count's man: count's master is of another style. + PAROLLES. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too + old. + LAFEU. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age + cannot bring thee. + PAROLLES. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. + LAFEU. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wise + fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might + pass. Yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly + dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I + have now found thee; when I lose thee again I care not; yet art + thou good for nothing but taking up; and that thou'rt scarce + worth. + PAROLLES. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee- + LAFEU. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy + trial; which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good + window of lattice, fare thee well; thy casement I need not open, + for I look through thee. Give me thy hand. + PAROLLES. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity. + LAFEU. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it. + PAROLLES. I have not, my lord, deserv'd it. + LAFEU. Yes, good faith, ev'ry dram of it; and I will not bate thee + a scruple. + PAROLLES. Well, I shall be wiser. + LAFEU. Ev'n as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack + o' th' contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and + beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I + have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my + knowledge, that I may say in the default 'He is a man I know.' + PAROLLES. My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation. + LAFEU. I would it were hell pains for thy sake, and my poor doing + eternal; for doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motion + age will give me leave. Exit + PAROLLES. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me: + scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must be patient; there + is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can + meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a + lord. I'll have no more pity of his age than I would have of- + I'll beat him, and if I could but meet him again. + + Re-enter LAFEU + + LAFEU. Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news for + you; you have a new mistress. + PAROLLES. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some + reservation of your wrongs. He is my good lord: whom I serve + above is my master. + LAFEU. Who? God? + PAROLLES. Ay, sir. + LAFEU. The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up + thy arms o' this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeves? Do other + servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose + stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat + thee. Methink'st thou art a general offence, and every man should + beat thee. I think thou wast created for men to breathe + themselves upon thee. + PAROLLES. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. + LAFEU. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel + out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller; + you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the + commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are + not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. + Exit + + Enter BERTRAM + + PAROLLES. Good, very, good, it is so then. Good, very good; let it + be conceal'd awhile. + BERTRAM. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! + PAROLLES. What's the matter, sweetheart? + BERTRAM. Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, + I will not bed her. + PAROLLES. What, what, sweetheart? + BERTRAM. O my Parolles, they have married me! + I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. + PAROLLES. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits + The tread of a man's foot. To th' wars! + BERTRAM. There's letters from my mother; what th' import is I know + not yet. + PAROLLES. Ay, that would be known. To th' wars, my boy, to th' + wars! + He wears his honour in a box unseen + That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, + Spending his manly marrow in her arms, + Which should sustain the bound and high curvet + Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions! + France is a stable; we that dwell in't jades; + Therefore, to th' war! + BERTRAM. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house, + Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, + And wherefore I am fled; write to the King + That which I durst not speak. His present gift + Shall furnish me to those Italian fields + Where noble fellows strike. War is no strife + To the dark house and the detested wife. + PAROLLES. Will this capriccio hold in thee, art sure? + BERTRAM. Go with me to my chamber and advise me. + I'll send her straight away. To-morrow + I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. + PAROLLES. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard: + A young man married is a man that's marr'd. + Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go. + The King has done you wrong; but, hush, 'tis so. Exeunt + + + + +ACT II. SCENE 4. +Paris. The KING'S palace + +Enter HELENA and CLOWN + + HELENA. My mother greets me kindly; is she well? + CLOWN. She is not well, but yet she has her health; she's very + merry, but yet she is not well. But thanks be given, she's very + well, and wants nothing i' th' world; but yet she is not well. + HELENA. If she be very well, what does she ail that she's not very + well? + CLOWN. Truly, she's very well indeed, but for two things. + HELENA. What two things? + CLOWN. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! + The other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly! + + Enter PAROLLES + + PAROLLES. Bless you, my fortunate lady! + HELENA. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good + fortunes. + PAROLLES. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, + have them still. O, my knave, how does my old lady? + CLOWN. So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would she + did as you say. + PAROLLES. Why, I say nothing. + CLOWN. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes + out his master's undoing. To say nothing, to do nothing, to know + nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your + title, which is within a very little of nothing. + PAROLLES. Away! th'art a knave. + CLOWN. You should have said, sir, 'Before a knave th'art a knave'; + that's 'Before me th'art a knave.' This had been truth, sir. + PAROLLES. Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have found thee. + CLOWN. Did you find me in yourself, sir, or were you taught to find + me? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find + in you, even to the world's pleasure and the increase of + laughter. + PAROLLES. A good knave, i' faith, and well fed. + Madam, my lord will go away to-night: + A very serious business calls on him. + The great prerogative and rite of love, + Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge; + But puts it off to a compell'd restraint; + Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets, + Which they distil now in the curbed time, + To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy + And pleasure drown the brim. + HELENA. What's his else? + PAROLLES. That you will take your instant leave o' th' King, + And make this haste as your own good proceeding, + Strength'ned with what apology you think + May make it probable need. + HELENA. What more commands he? + PAROLLES. That, having this obtain'd, you presently + Attend his further pleasure. + HELENA. In everything I wait upon his will. + PAROLLES. I shall report it so. + HELENA. I pray you. Exit PAROLLES + Come, sirrah. Exeunt + + + + +ACT II. SCENE 5. +Paris. The KING'S palace + +Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM + + LAFEU. But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier. + BERTRAM. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. + LAFEU. You have it from his own deliverance. + BERTRAM. And by other warranted testimony. + LAFEU. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting. + BERTRAM. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, + and accordingly valiant. + LAFEU. I have then sinn'd against his experience and transgress'd + against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I + cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; I pray you + make us friends; I will pursue the amity + + Enter PAROLLES + + PAROLLES. [To BERTRAM] These things shall be done, sir. + LAFEU. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? + PAROLLES. Sir! + LAFEU. O, I know him well. Ay, sir; he, sir, 's a good workman, a + very good tailor. + BERTRAM. [Aside to PAROLLES] Is she gone to the King? + PAROLLES. She is. + BERTRAM. Will she away to-night? + PAROLLES. As you'll have her. + BERTRAM. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, + Given order for our horses; and to-night, + When I should take possession of the bride, + End ere I do begin. + LAFEU. A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; + but one that lies three-thirds and uses a known truth to pass a + thousand nothings with, should be once heard and thrice beaten. + God save you, Captain. + BERTRAM. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur? + PAROLLES. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's + displeasure. + LAFEU. You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs and all, + like him that leapt into the custard; and out of it you'll run + again, rather than suffer question for your residence. + BERTRAM. It may be you have mistaken him, my lord. + LAFEU. And shall do so ever, though I took him at's prayers. + Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me: there can be no + kernal in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes; + trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them + tame, and know their natures. Farewell, monsieur; I have spoken + better of you than you have or will to deserve at my hand; but we + must do good against evil. Exit + PAROLLES. An idle lord, I swear. + BERTRAM. I think so. + PAROLLES. Why, do you not know him? + BERTRAM. Yes, I do know him well; and common speech + Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. + + Enter HELENA + + HELENA. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, + Spoke with the King, and have procur'd his leave + For present parting; only he desires + Some private speech with you. + BERTRAM. I shall obey his will. + You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, + Which holds not colour with the time, nor does + The ministration and required office + On my particular. Prepar'd I was not + For such a business; therefore am I found + So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you + That presently you take your way for home, + And rather muse than ask why I entreat you; + For my respects are better than they seem, + And my appointments have in them a need + Greater than shows itself at the first view + To you that know them not. This to my mother. + [Giving a letter] + 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you; so + I leave you to your wisdom. + HELENA. Sir, I can nothing say + But that I am your most obedient servant. + BERTRAM. Come, come, no more of that. + HELENA. And ever shall + With true observance seek to eke out that + Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd + To equal my great fortune. + BERTRAM. Let that go. + My haste is very great. Farewell; hie home. + HELENA. Pray, sir, your pardon. + BERTRAM. Well, what would you say? + HELENA. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, + Nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is; + But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal + What law does vouch mine own. + BERTRAM. What would you have? + HELENA. Something; and scarce so much; nothing, indeed. + I would not tell you what I would, my lord. + Faith, yes: + Strangers and foes do sunder and not kiss. + BERTRAM. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. + HELENA. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. + BERTRAM. Where are my other men, monsieur? + Farewell! Exit HELENA + Go thou toward home, where I will never come + Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum. + Away, and for our flight. + PAROLLES. Bravely, coragio! Exeunt + + + +<> + + + + +ACT III. SCENE 1. +Florence. The DUKE's palace + + Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, attended; two + FRENCH LORDS, with a TROOP OF SOLDIERS + + DUKE. So that, from point to point, now have you hear + The fundamental reasons of this war; + Whose great decision hath much blood let forth + And more thirsts after. + FIRST LORD. Holy seems the quarrel + Upon your Grace's part; black and fearful + On the opposer. + DUKE. Therefore we marvel much our cousin France + Would in so just a business shut his bosom + Against our borrowing prayers. + SECOND LORD. Good my lord, + The reasons of our state I cannot yield, + But like a common and an outward man + That the great figure of a council frames + By self-unable motion; therefore dare not + Say what I think of it, since I have found + Myself in my incertain grounds to fail + As often as I guess'd. + DUKE. Be it his pleasure. + FIRST LORD. But I am sure the younger of our nature, + That surfeit on their ease, will day by day + Come here for physic. + DUKE. Welcome shall they be + And all the honours that can fly from us + Shall on them settle. You know your places well; + When better fall, for your avails they fell. + To-morrow to th' field. Flourish. Exeunt + + + + +ACT III. SCENE 2. +Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace + +Enter COUNTESS and CLOWN + + COUNTESS. It hath happen'd all as I would have had it, save that he + comes not along with her. + CLOWN. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy + man. + COUNTESS. By what observance, I pray you? + CLOWN. Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the ruff and + sing; ask questions and sing; pick his teeth and sing. I know a + man that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for a + song. + COUNTESS. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. + [Opening a letter] + CLOWN. I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court. Our old ling + and our Isbels o' th' country are nothing like your old ling and + your Isbels o' th' court. The brains of my Cupid's knock'd out; + and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. + COUNTESS. What have we here? + CLOWN. E'en that you have there. Exit + COUNTESS. [Reads] 'I have sent you a daughter-in-law; she hath + recovered the King and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded + her; and sworn to make the "not" eternal. You shall hear I am run + away; know it before the report come. If there be breadth enough + in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. + Your unfortunate son, + BERTRAM.' + This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, + To fly the favours of so good a king, + To pluck his indignation on thy head + By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous + For the contempt of empire. + + Re-enter CLOWN + + CLOWN. O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers + and my young lady. + COUNTESS. What is the -matter? + CLOWN. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your + son will not be kill'd so soon as I thought he would. + COUNTESS. Why should he be kill'd? + CLOWN. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does the + danger is in standing to 't; that's the loss of men, though it be + the getting of children. Here they come will tell you more. For my + part, I only hear your son was run away. Exit + + Enter HELENA and the two FRENCH GENTLEMEN + + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Save you, good madam. + HELENA. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Do not say so. + COUNTESS. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen- + I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief + That the first face of neither, on the start, + Can woman me unto 't. Where is my son, I pray you? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Madam, he's gone to serve the Duke of Florence. + We met him thitherward; for thence we came, + And, after some dispatch in hand at court, + Thither we bend again. + HELENA. Look on this letter, madam; here's my passport. + [Reads] 'When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which + never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy body + that I am father to, then call me husband; but in such a "then" I + write a "never." + This is a dreadful sentence. + COUNTESS. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam; + And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains. + COUNTESS. I prithee, lady, have a better cheer; + If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, + Thou robb'st me of a moiety. He was my son; + But I do wash his name out of my blood, + And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam. + COUNTESS. And to be a soldier? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Such is his noble purpose; and, believe 't, + The Duke will lay upon him all the honour + That good convenience claims. + COUNTESS. Return you thither? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. + HELENA. [Reads] 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.' + 'Tis bitter. + COUNTESS. Find you that there? + HELENA. Ay, madam. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand haply, which + his heart was not consenting to. + COUNTESS. Nothing in France until he have no wife! + There's nothing here that is too good for him + But only she; and she deserves a lord + That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, + And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. A servant only, and a gentleman + Which I have sometime known. + COUNTESS. Parolles, was it not? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Ay, my good lady, he. + COUNTESS. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. + My son corrupts a well-derived nature + With his inducement. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Indeed, good lady, + The fellow has a deal of that too much + Which holds him much to have. + COUNTESS. Y'are welcome, gentlemen. + I will entreat you, when you see my son, + To tell him that his sword can never win + The honour that he loses. More I'll entreat you + Written to bear along. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. We serve you, madam, + In that and all your worthiest affairs. + COUNTESS. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. + Will you draw near? Exeunt COUNTESS and GENTLEMEN + HELENA. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.' + Nothing in France until he has no wife! + Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France + Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't + That chase thee from thy country, and expose + Those tender limbs of thine to the event + Of the non-sparing war? And is it I + That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou + Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark + Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, + That ride upon the violent speed of fire, + Fly with false aim; move the still-piecing air, + That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord. + Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; + Whoever charges on his forward breast, + I am the caitiff that do hold him to't; + And though I kill him not, I am the cause + His death was so effected. Better 'twere + I met the ravin lion when he roar'd + With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere + That all the miseries which nature owes + Were mine at once. No; come thou home, Rousillon, + Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, + As oft it loses all. I will be gone. + My being here it is that holds thee hence. + Shall I stay here to do 't? No, no, although + The air of paradise did fan the house, + And angels offic'd all. I will be gone, + That pitiful rumour may report my flight + To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day. + For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. Exit + + + + +ACT III. SCENE 3. +Florence. Before the DUKE's palace + +Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, SOLDIERS, +drum and trumpets + + DUKE. The General of our Horse thou art; and we, + Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence + Upon thy promising fortune. + BERTRAM. Sir, it is + A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet + We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake + To th' extreme edge of hazard. + DUKE. Then go thou forth; + And Fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, + As thy auspicious mistress! + BERTRAM. This very day, + Great Mars, I put myself into thy file; + Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove + A lover of thy drum, hater of love. Exeunt + + + + +ACT III. SCENE 4. +Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace + +Enter COUNTESS and STEWARD + + COUNTESS. Alas! and would you take the letter of her? + Might you not know she would do as she has done + By sending me a letter? Read it again. + STEWARD. [Reads] 'I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone. + Ambitious love hath so in me offended + That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, + With sainted vow my faults to have amended. + Write, write, that from the bloody course of war + My dearest master, your dear son, may hie. + Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far + His name with zealous fervour sanctify. + His taken labours bid him me forgive; + I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth + From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, + Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth. + He is too good and fair for death and me; + Whom I myself embrace to set him free.' + COUNTESS. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! + Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much + As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her, + I could have well diverted her intents, + Which thus she hath prevented. + STEWARD. Pardon me, madam; + If I had given you this at over-night, + She might have been o'er ta'en; and yet she writes + Pursuit would be but vain. + COUNTESS. What angel shall + Bless this unworthy husband? He cannot thrive, + Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear + And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath + Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo, + To this unworthy husband of his wife; + Let every word weigh heavy of her worth + That he does weigh too light. My greatest grief, + Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. + Dispatch the most convenient messenger. + When haply he shall hear that she is gone + He will return; and hope I may that she, + Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, + Led hither by pure love. Which of them both + Is dearest to me I have no skill in sense + To make distinction. Provide this messenger. + My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak; + Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. Exeunt + + + + +ACT III. SCENE 5. + +Without the walls of Florence +A tucket afar off. Enter an old WIDOW OF FLORENCE, her daughter DIANA, +VIOLENTA, and MARIANA, with other CITIZENS + + WIDOW. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city we shall lose + all the sight. + DIANA. They say the French count has done most honourable service. + WIDOW. It is reported that he has taken their great'st commander; + and that with his own hand he slew the Duke's brother. [Tucket] + We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way. Hark! you + may know by their trumpets. + MARIANA. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the + report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl; the + honour of a maid is her name, and no legacy is so rich as + honesty. + WIDOW. I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited by a + gentleman his companion. + MARIANA. I know that knave, hang him! one Parolles; a filthy + officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl. Beware of + them, Diana: their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all + these engines of lust, are not the things they go under; many a + maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that + so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that + dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that + threatens them. I hope I need not to advise you further; but I + hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there + were no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost. + DIANA. You shall not need to fear me. + + Enter HELENA in the dress of a pilgrim + + WIDOW. I hope so. Look, here comes a pilgrim. I know she will lie + at my house: thither they send one another. I'll question her. + God save you, pilgrim! Whither are bound? + HELENA. To Saint Jaques le Grand. + Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? + WIDOW. At the Saint Francis here, beside the port. + HELENA. Is this the way? + [A march afar] + WIDOW. Ay, marry, is't. Hark you! They come this way. + If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, + But till the troops come by, + I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd; + The rather for I think I know your hostess + As ample as myself. + HELENA. Is it yourself? + WIDOW. If you shall please so, pilgrim. + HELENA. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. + WIDOW. You came, I think, from France? + HELENA. I did so. + WIDOW. Here you shall see a countryman of yours + That has done worthy service. + HELENA. His name, I pray you. + DIANA. The Count Rousillon. Know you such a one? + HELENA. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him; + His face I know not. + DIANA. What some'er he is, + He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, + As 'tis reported, for the King had married him + Against his liking. Think you it is so? + HELENA. Ay, surely, mere the truth; I know his lady. + DIANA. There is a gentleman that serves the Count + Reports but coarsely of her. + HELENA. What's his name? + DIANA. Monsieur Parolles. + HELENA. O, I believe with him, + In argument of praise, or to the worth + Of the great Count himself, she is too mean + To have her name repeated; all her deserving + Is a reserved honesty, and that + I have not heard examin'd. + DIANA. Alas, poor lady! + 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife + Of a detesting lord. + WIDOW. I sweet, good creature, wheresoe'er she is + Her heart weighs sadly. This young maid might do her + A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. + HELENA. How do you mean? + May be the amorous Count solicits her + In the unlawful purpose. + WIDOW. He does, indeed; + And brokes with all that can in such a suit + Corrupt the tender honour of a maid; + But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard + In honestest defence. + + Enter, with drum and colours, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and the + whole ARMY + + MARIANA. The gods forbid else! + WIDOW. So, now they come. + That is Antonio, the Duke's eldest son; + That, Escalus. + HELENA. Which is the Frenchman? + DIANA. He- + That with the plume; 'tis a most gallant fellow. + I would he lov'd his wife; if he were honester + He were much goodlier. Is't not a handsome gentleman? + HELENA. I like him well. + DIANA. 'Tis pity he is not honest. Yond's that same knave + That leads him to these places; were I his lady + I would poison that vile rascal. + HELENA. Which is he? + DIANA. That jack-an-apes with scarfs. Why is he melancholy? + HELENA. Perchance he's hurt i' th' battle. + PAROLLES. Lose our drum! well. + MARIANA. He's shrewdly vex'd at something. + Look, he has spied us. + WIDOW. Marry, hang you! + MARIANA. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! + Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and ARMY + WIDOW. The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you + Where you shall host. Of enjoin'd penitents + There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound, + Already at my house. + HELENA. I humbly thank you. + Please it this matron and this gentle maid + To eat with us to-night; the charge and thanking + Shall be for me, and, to requite you further, + I will bestow some precepts of this virgin, + Worthy the note. + BOTH. We'll take your offer kindly. Exeunt + + + + +ACT III. SCENE 6. +Camp before Florence + +Enter BERTRAM, and the two FRENCH LORDS + + SECOND LORD. Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his way. + FIRST LORD. If your lordship find him not a hiding, hold me no more + in your respect. + SECOND LORD. On my life, my lord, a bubble. + BERTRAM. Do you think I am so far deceived in him? + SECOND LORD. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, + without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a + most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly + promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your + lordship's entertainment. + FIRST LORD. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his + virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty + business in a main danger fail you. + BERTRAM. I would I knew in what particular action to try him. + FIRST LORD. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which + you hear him so confidently undertake to do. + SECOND LORD. I with a troop of Florentines will suddenly surprise + him; such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy. + We will bind and hoodwink him so that he shall suppose no other + but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries when + we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at + his examination; if he do not, for the promise of his life and in + the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you and + deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that + with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my + judgment in anything. + FIRST LORD. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he + says he has a stratagem for't. When your lordship sees the bottom + of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of + ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's + entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes. + + Enter PAROLLES + + SECOND LORD. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of + his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand. + BERTRAM. How now, monsieur! This drum sticks sorely in your + disposition. + FIRST LORD. A pox on 't; let it go; 'tis but a drum. + PAROLLES. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost! There was + excellent command: to charge in with our horse upon our own + wings, and to rend our own soldiers! + FIRST LORD. That was not to be blam'd in the command of the + service; it was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could not + have prevented, if he had been there to command. + BERTRAM. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success. + Some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to + be recovered. + PAROLLES. It might have been recovered. + BERTRAM. It might, but it is not now. + PAROLLES. It is to be recovered. But that the merit of service is + seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have + that drum or another, or 'hic jacet.' + BERTRAM. Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur. If you think + your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour + again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, + and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit. If you + speed well in it, the Duke shall both speak of it and extend to + you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost + syllable of our worthiness. + PAROLLES. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. + BERTRAM. But you must not now slumber in it. + PAROLLES. I'll about it this evening; and I will presently pen + down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself + into my mortal preparation; and by midnight look to hear further + from me. + BERTRAM. May I be bold to acquaint his Grace you are gone about it? + PAROLLES. I know not what the success will be, my lord, but the + attempt I vow. + BERTRAM. I know th' art valiant; and, to the of thy soldiership, + will subscribe for thee. Farewell. + PAROLLES. I love not many words. Exit + SECOND LORD. No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strange + fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this + business, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do, + and dares better be damn'd than to do 't. + FIRST LORD. You do not know him, my lord, as we do. Certain it is + that he will steal himself into a man's favour, and for a week + escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, + you have him ever after. + BERTRAM. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this that + so seriously he does address himself unto? + SECOND LORD. None in the world; but return with an invention, and + clap upon you two or three probable lies. But we have almost + emboss'd him. You shall see his fall to-night; for indeed he is + not for your lordship's respect. + FIRST LORD. We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him. + He was first smok'd by the old Lord Lafeu. When his disguise and + he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you + shall see this very night. + SECOND LORD. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught. + BERTRAM. Your brother, he shall go along with me. + SECOND LORD. As't please your lordship. I'll leave you. Exit + BERTRAM. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you + The lass I spoke of. + FIRST LORD. But you say she's honest. + BERTRAM. That's all the fault. I spoke with her but once, + And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, + By this same coxcomb that we have i' th' wind, + Tokens and letters which she did re-send; + And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature; + Will you go see her? + FIRST LORD. With all my heart, my lord. Exeunt + + + + +ACT III. SCENE 7. +Florence. The WIDOW'S house + +Enter HELENA and WIDOW + + HELENA. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, + I know not how I shall assure you further + But I shall lose the grounds I work upon. + WIDOW. Though my estate be fall'n, I was well born, + Nothing acquainted with these businesses; + And would not put my reputation now + In any staining act. + HELENA. Nor would I wish you. + FIRST give me trust the Count he is my husband, + And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken + Is so from word to word; and then you cannot, + By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, + Err in bestowing it. + WIDOW. I should believe you; + For you have show'd me that which well approves + Y'are great in fortune. + HELENA. Take this purse of gold, + And let me buy your friendly help thus far, + Which I will over-pay and pay again + When I have found it. The Count he woos your daughter + Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, + Resolv'd to carry her. Let her in fine consent, + As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it. + Now his important blood will nought deny + That she'll demand. A ring the County wears + That downward hath succeeded in his house + From son to son some four or five descents + Since the first father wore it. This ring he holds + In most rich choice; yet, in his idle fire, + To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, + Howe'er repented after. + WIDOW. Now I see + The bottom of your purpose. + HELENA. You see it lawful then. It is no more + But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, + Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; + In fine, delivers me to fill the time, + Herself most chastely absent. After this, + To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns + To what is pass'd already. + WIDOW. I have yielded. + Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, + That time and place with this deceit so lawful + May prove coherent. Every night he comes + With musics of all sorts, and songs compos'd + To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us + To chide him from our eaves, for he persists + As if his life lay on 't. + HELENA. Why then to-night + Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, + Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed, + And lawful meaning in a lawful act; + Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact. + But let's about it. Exeunt + + + +<> + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 1. +Without the Florentine camp + +Enter SECOND FRENCH LORD with five or six other SOLDIERS in ambush + + SECOND LORD. He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. + When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will; + though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must + not seem to understand him, unless some one among us, whom we + must produce for an interpreter. + FIRST SOLDIER. Good captain, let me be th' interpreter. + SECOND LORD. Art not acquainted with him? Knows he not thy voice? + FIRST SOLDIER. No, sir, I warrant you. + SECOND LORD. But what linsey-woolsey has thou to speak to us again? + FIRST SOLDIER. E'en such as you speak to me. + SECOND LORD. He must think us some band of strangers i' th' + adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all + neighbouring languages, therefore we must every one be a man of + his own fancy; not to know what we speak one to another, so we + seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: choughs' language, + gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must + seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile two + hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges. + + Enter PAROLLES + + PAROLLES. Ten o'clock. Within these three hours 'twill be time + enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a + very plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoke me; + and disgraces have of late knock'd to often at my door. I find my + tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars + before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my + tongue. + SECOND LORD. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was + guilty of. + PAROLLES. What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery + of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and + knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and + say I got them in exploit. Yet slight ones will not carry it. + They will say 'Came you off with so little?' And great ones I + dare not give. Wherefore, what's the instance? Tongue, I must put + you into a butterwoman's mouth, and buy myself another of + Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils. + SECOND LORD. Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that + he is? + PAROLLES. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, + or the breaking of my Spanish sword. + SECOND LORD. We cannot afford you so. + PAROLLES. Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in + stratagem. + SECOND LORD. 'Twould not do. + PAROLLES. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripp'd. + SECOND LORD. Hardly serve. + PAROLLES. Though I swore I leap'd from the window of the citadel- + SECOND LORD. How deep? + PAROLLES. Thirty fathom. + SECOND LORD. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed. + PAROLLES. I would I had any drum of the enemy's; I would swear I + recover'd it. + SECOND LORD. You shall hear one anon. [Alarum within] + PAROLLES. A drum now of the enemy's! + SECOND LORD. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. + ALL. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo. + PAROLLES. O, ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes. + [They blindfold him] + FIRST SOLDIER. Boskos thromuldo boskos. + PAROLLES. I know you are the Muskos' regiment, + And I shall lose my life for want of language. + If there be here German, or Dane, Low Dutch, + Italian, or French, let him speak to me; + I'll discover that which shall undo the Florentine. + FIRST SOLDIER. Boskos vauvado. I understand thee, and can speak thy + tongue. Kerely-bonto, sir, betake thee to thy faith, for + seventeen poniards are at thy bosom. + PAROLLES. O! + FIRST SOLDIER. O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche. + SECOND LORD. Oscorbidulchos volivorco. + FIRST SOLDIER. The General is content to spare thee yet; + And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on + To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst inform + Something to save thy life. + PAROLLES. O, let me live, + And all the secrets of our camp I'll show, + Their force, their purposes. Nay, I'll speak that + Which you will wonder at. + FIRST SOLDIER. But wilt thou faithfully? + PAROLLES. If I do not, damn me. + FIRST SOLDIER. Acordo linta. + Come on; thou art granted space. + Exit, PAROLLES guarded. A short alarum within + SECOND LORD. Go, tell the Count Rousillon and my brother + We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled + Till we do hear from them. + SECOND SOLDIER. Captain, I will. + SECOND LORD. 'A will betray us all unto ourselves- + Inform on that. + SECOND SOLDIER. So I will, sir. + SECOND LORD. Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd. + Exeunt + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 2. +Florence. The WIDOW'S house + +Enter BERTRAM and DIANA + + BERTRAM. They told me that your name was Fontibell. + DIANA. No, my good lord, Diana. + BERTRAM. Titled goddess; + And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul, + In your fine frame hath love no quality? + If the quick fire of youth light not your mind, + You are no maiden, but a monument; + When you are dead, you should be such a one + As you are now, for you are cold and stern; + And now you should be as your mother was + When your sweet self was got. + DIANA. She then was honest. + BERTRAM. So should you be. + DIANA. No. + My mother did but duty; such, my lord, + As you owe to your wife. + BERTRAM. No more o'that! + I prithee do not strive against my vows. + I was compell'd to her; but I love the + By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever + Do thee all rights of service. + DIANA. Ay, so you serve us + Till we serve you; but when you have our roses + You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, + And mock us with our bareness. + BERTRAM. How have I sworn! + DIANA. 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth, + But the plain single vow that is vow'd true. + What is not holy, that we swear not by, + But take the High'st to witness. Then, pray you, tell me: + If I should swear by Jove's great attributes + I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths + When I did love you ill? This has no holding, + To swear by him whom I protest to love + That I will work against him. Therefore your oaths + Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd- + At least in my opinion. + BERTRAM. Change it, change it; + Be not so holy-cruel. Love is holy; + And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts + That you do charge men with. Stand no more off, + But give thyself unto my sick desires, + Who then recovers. Say thou art mine, and ever + My love as it begins shall so persever. + DIANA. I see that men make ropes in such a scarre + That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. + BERTRAM. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power + To give it from me. + DIANA. Will you not, my lord? + BERTRAM. It is an honour 'longing to our house, + Bequeathed down from many ancestors; + Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world + In me to lose. + DIANA. Mine honour's such a ring: + My chastity's the jewel of our house, + Bequeathed down from many ancestors; + Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world + In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom + Brings in the champion Honour on my part + Against your vain assault. + BERTRAM. Here, take my ring; + My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, + And I'll be bid by thee. + DIANA. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window; + I'll order take my mother shall not hear. + Now will I charge you in the band of truth, + When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed, + Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me: + My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them + When back again this ring shall be deliver'd. + And on your finger in the night I'll put + Another ring, that what in time proceeds + May token to the future our past deeds. + Adieu till then; then fail not. You have won + A wife of me, though there my hope be done. + BERTRAM. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. + Exit + DIANA. For which live long to thank both heaven and me! + You may so in the end. + My mother told me just how he would woo, + As if she sat in's heart; she says all men + Have the like oaths. He had sworn to marry me + When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him + When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid, + Marry that will, I live and die a maid. + Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin + To cozen him that would unjustly win. Exit + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 3. +The Florentine camp + +Enter the two FRENCH LORDS, and two or three SOLDIERS + + SECOND LORD. You have not given him his mother's letter? + FIRST LORD. I have deliv'red it an hour since. There is something + in't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he chang'd + almost into another man. + SECOND LORD. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off + so good a wife and so sweet a lady. + FIRST LORD. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure + of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to sing happiness to + him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly + with you. + SECOND LORD. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave + of it. + FIRST LORD. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, + of a most chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his will in + the spoil of her honour. He hath given her his monumental ring, + and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition. + SECOND LORD. Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves, + what things are we! + FIRST LORD. Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of + all treasons we still see them reveal themselves till they attain + to their abhorr'd ends; so he that in this action contrives + against his own nobility, in his proper stream, o'erflows + himself. + SECOND LORD. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our + unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night? + FIRST LORD. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour. + SECOND LORD. That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his + company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own + judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. + FIRST LORD. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his + presence must be the whip of the other. + SECOND LORD. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars? + FIRST LORD. I hear there is an overture of peace. + SECOND LORD. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. + FIRST LORD. What will Count Rousillon do then? Will he travel + higher, or return again into France? + SECOND LORD. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether + of his counsel. + FIRST LORD. Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great deal + of his act. + SECOND LORD. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his + house. Her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; + which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she + accomplish'd; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature + became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last + breath, and now she sings in heaven. + FIRST LORD. How is this justified? + SECOND LORD. The stronger part of it by her own letters, which + makes her story true even to the point of her death. Her death + itself, which could not be her office to say is come, was + faithfully confirm'd by the rector of the place. + FIRST LORD. Hath the Count all this intelligence? + SECOND LORD. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from + point, to the full arming of the verity. + FIRST LORD. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. + SECOND LORD. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our + losses! + FIRST LORD. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in + tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd for + him shall at home be encount'red with a shame as ample. + SECOND LORD. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill + together. Our virtues would be proud if our faults whipt them + not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherish'd by + our virtues. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + How now? Where's your master? + SERVANT. He met the Duke in the street, sir; of whom he hath taken + a solemn leave. His lordship will next morning for France. The + Duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the King. + SECOND LORD. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were + more than they can commend. + FIRST LORD. They cannot be too sweet for the King's tartness. + Here's his lordship now. + + Enter BERTRAM + + How now, my lord, is't not after midnight? + BERTRAM. I have to-night dispatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's + length apiece; by an abstract of success: I have congied with the + Duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourn'd for + her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertain'd my + convoy; and between these main parcels of dispatch effected many + nicer needs. The last was the greatest, but that I have not ended + yet. + SECOND LORD. If the business be of any difficulty and this morning + your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship. + BERTRAM. I mean the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it + hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the Fool and + the Soldier? Come, bring forth this counterfeit module has + deceiv'd me like a double-meaning prophesier. + SECOND LORD. Bring him forth. [Exeunt SOLDIERS] Has sat i' th' + stocks all night, poor gallant knave. + BERTRAM. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, in usurping his + spurs so long. How does he carry himself? + SECOND LORD. I have told your lordship already the stocks carry + him. But to answer you as you would be understood: he weeps like + a wench that had shed her milk; he hath confess'd himself to + Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his + remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i' th' + stocks. And what think you he hath confess'd? + BERTRAM. Nothing of me, has 'a? + SECOND LORD. His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his + face; if your lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must + have the patience to hear it. + + Enter PAROLLES guarded, and + FIRST SOLDIER as interpreter + + BERTRAM. A plague upon him! muffled! He can say nothing of me. + SECOND LORD. Hush, hush! Hoodman comes. Portotartarossa. + FIRST SOLDIER. He calls for the tortures. What will you say without + 'em? + PAROLLES. I will confess what I know without constraint; if ye + pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. + FIRST SOLDIER. Bosko chimurcho. + SECOND LORD. Boblibindo chicurmurco. + FIRST SOLDIER. YOU are a merciful general. Our General bids you + answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. + PAROLLES. And truly, as I hope to live. + FIRST SOLDIER. 'First demand of him how many horse the Duke is + strong.' What say you to that? + PAROLLES. Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable. + The troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor + rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live. + FIRST SOLDIER. Shall I set down your answer so? + PAROLLES. Do; I'll take the sacrament on 't, how and which way you + will. + BERTRAM. All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this! + SECOND LORD. Y'are deceiv'd, my lord; this is Monsieur Parolles, + the gallant militarist-that was his own phrase-that had the whole + theoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the + chape of his dagger. + FIRST LORD. I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword + clean; nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing his + apparel neatly. + FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down. + PAROLLES. 'Five or six thousand horse' I said-I will say true- 'or + thereabouts' set down, for I'll speak truth. + SECOND LORD. He's very near the truth in this. + BERTRAM. But I con him no thanks for't in the nature he delivers it. + PAROLLES. 'Poor rogues' I pray you say. + FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down. + PAROLLES. I humbly thank you, sir. A truth's a truth-the rogues are + marvellous poor. + FIRST SOLDIER. 'Demand of him of what strength they are a-foot.' + What say you to that? + PAROLLES. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I + will tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a hundred and fifty; + Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, + Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each; mine own + company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred fifty each; so + that the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not + to fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not shake the + snow from off their cassocks lest they shake themselves to + pieces. + BERTRAM. What shall be done to him? + SECOND LORD. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my + condition, and what credit I have with the Duke. + FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down. 'You shall demand of him + whether one Captain Dumain be i' th' camp, a Frenchman; what his + reputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honesty, expertness + in wars; or whether he thinks it were not possible, with + well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to a revolt.' What say + you to this? What do you know of it? + PAROLLES. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the + inter'gatories. Demand them singly. + FIRST SOLDIER. Do you know this Captain Dumain? + PAROLLES. I know him: 'a was a botcher's prentice in Paris, from + whence he was whipt for getting the shrieve's fool with child-a + dumb innocent that could not say him nay. + BERTRAM. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his + brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. + FIRST SOLDIER. Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence's + camp? + PAROLLES. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. + SECOND LORD. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of your + lordship anon. + FIRST SOLDIER. What is his reputation with the Duke? + PAROLLES. The Duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of + mine; and writ to me this other day to turn him out o' th' band. + I think I have his letter in my pocket. + FIRST SOLDIER. Marry, we'll search. + PAROLLES. In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there or it + is upon a file with the Duke's other letters in my tent. + FIRST SOLDIER. Here 'tis; here's a paper. Shall I read it to you? + PAROLLES. I do not know if it be it or no. + BERTRAM. Our interpreter does it well. + SECOND LORD. Excellently. + FIRST SOLDIER. [Reads] 'Dian, the Count's a fool, and full of + gold.' + PAROLLES. That is not the Duke's letter, sir; that is an + advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take + heed of the allurement of one Count Rousillon, a foolish idle + boy, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it up + again. + FIRST SOLDIER. Nay, I'll read it first by your favour. + PAROLLES. My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf + of the maid; for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and + lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all + the fry it finds. + BERTRAM. Damnable both-sides rogue! + FIRST SOLDIER. [Reads] + 'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; + After he scores, he never pays the score. + Half won is match well made; match, and well make it; + He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before. + And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this: + Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss; + For count of this, the Count's a fool, I know it, + Who pays before, but not when he does owe it. + Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear, + PAROLLES.' + BERTRAM. He shall be whipt through the army with this rhyme in's + forehead. + FIRST LORD. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold + linguist, and the amnipotent soldier. + BERTRAM. I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he's a + cat to me. + FIRST SOLDIER. I perceive, sir, by our General's looks we shall be + fain to hang you. + PAROLLES. My life, sir, in any case! Not that I am afraid to die, + but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the + remainder of nature. Let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' th' + stocks, or anywhere, so I may live. + FIRST SOLDIER. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; + therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain: you have answer'd to + his reputation with the Duke, and to his valour; what is his + honesty? + PAROLLES. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister; for rapes + and ravishments he parallels Nessus. He professes not keeping of + oaths; in breaking 'em he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, + sir, with such volubility that you would think truth were a fool. + Drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will be swine-drunk; and + in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bedclothes about + him; but they know his conditions and lay him in straw. I have + but little more to say, sir, of his honesty. He has everything + that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should + have he has nothing. + SECOND LORD. I begin to love him for this. + BERTRAM. For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him! For + me, he's more and more a cat. + FIRST SOLDIER. What say you to his expertness in war? + PAROLLES. Faith, sir, has led the drum before the English + tragedians-to belie him I will not-and more of his soldier-ship + I know not, except in that country he had the honour to be the + officer at a place there called Mile-end to instruct for the + doubling of files-I would do the man what honour I can-but of + this I am not certain. + SECOND LORD. He hath out-villain'd villainy so far that the rarity + redeems him. + BERTRAM. A pox on him! he's a cat still. + FIRST SOLDIER. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not + to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. + PAROLLES. Sir, for a cardecue he will sell the fee-simple of his + salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut th' entail from all + remainders and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. + FIRST SOLDIER. What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain? + FIRST LORD. Why does he ask him of me? + FIRST SOLDIER. What's he? + PAROLLES. E'en a crow o' th' same nest; not altogether so great as + the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. He + excels his brother for a coward; yet his brother is reputed one + of the best that is. In a retreat he outruns any lackey: marry, + in coming on he has the cramp. + FIRST SOLDIER. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray + the Florentine? + PAROLLES. Ay, and the Captain of his Horse, Count Rousillon. + FIRST SOLDIER. I'll whisper with the General, and know his + pleasure. + PAROLLES. [Aside] I'll no more drumming. A plague of all drums! + Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition of + that lascivious young boy the Count, have I run into this danger. + Yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken? + FIRST SOLDIER. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die. + The General says you that have so traitorously discover'd the + secrets of your army, and made such pestiferous reports of men + very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore + you must die. Come, headsman, of with his head. + PAROLLES. O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death! + FIRST SOLDIER. That shall you, and take your leave of all your + friends. [Unmuffling him] So look about you; know you any here? + BERTRAM. Good morrow, noble Captain. + FIRST LORD. God bless you, Captain Parolles. + SECOND LORD. God save you, noble Captain. + FIRST LORD. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am + for France. + SECOND LORD. Good Captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet + you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? An I were not + a very coward I'd compel it of you; but fare you well. + Exeunt BERTRAM and LORDS + FIRST SOLDIER. You are undone, Captain, all but your scarf; that + has a knot on 't yet. + PAROLLES. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot? + FIRST SOLDIER. If you could find out a country where but women were + that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent + nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France too; we shall speak of + you there. Exit with SOLDIERS + PAROLLES. Yet am I thankful. If my heart were great, + 'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; + But I will eat, and drink, and sleep as soft + As captain shall. Simply the thing I am + Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, + Let him fear this; for it will come to pass + That every braggart shall be found an ass. + Rust, sword; cool, blushes; and, Parolles, live + Safest in shame. Being fool'd, by fool'ry thrive. + There's place and means for every man alive. + I'll after them. Exit + + + + +ACT IV SCENE 4. +The WIDOW'S house + +Enter HELENA, WIDOW, and DIANA + + HELENA. That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you! + One of the greatest in the Christian world + Shall be my surety; fore whose throne 'tis needful, + Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel. + Time was I did him a desired office, + Dear almost as his life; which gratitude + Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, + And answer 'Thanks.' I duly am inform'd + His Grace is at Marseilles, to which place + We have convenient convoy. You must know + I am supposed dead. The army breaking, + My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding, + And by the leave of my good lord the King, + We'll be before our welcome. + WIDOW. Gentle madam, + You never had a servant to whose trust + Your business was more welcome. + HELENA. Nor you, mistress, + Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour + To recompense your love. Doubt not but heaven + Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, + As it hath fated her to be my motive + And helper to a husband. But, O strange men! + That can such sweet use make of what they hate, + When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts + Defiles the pitchy night. So lust doth play + With what it loathes, for that which is away. + But more of this hereafter. You, Diana, + Under my poor instructions yet must suffer + Something in my behalf. + DIANA. Let death and honesty + Go with your impositions, I am yours + Upon your will to suffer. + HELENA. Yet, I pray you: + But with the word the time will bring on summer, + When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns + And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; + Our waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us. + All's Well that Ends Well. Still the fine's the crown. + Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. Exeunt + + + + +ACT IV SCENE 5. +Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace + +Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN + + LAFEU. No, no, no, son was misled with a snipt-taffeta fellow + there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbak'd + and doughy youth of a nation in his colour. Your daughter-in-law + had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more + advanc'd by the King than by that red-tail'd humble-bee I speak + of. + COUNTESS. I would I had not known him. It was the death of the most + virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise for creating. If + she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a + mother. I could not have owed her a more rooted love. + LAFEU. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady. We may pick a thousand + sallets ere we light on such another herb. + CLOWN. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the sallet, or, + rather, the herb of grace. + LAFEU. They are not sallet-herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs. + CLOWN. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in + grass. + LAFEU. Whether dost thou profess thyself-a knave or a fool? + CLOWN. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's. + LAFEU. Your distinction? + CLOWN. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service. + LAFEU. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. + CLOWN. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service. + LAFEU. I will subscribe for thee; thou art both knave and fool. + CLOWN. At your service. + LAFEU. No, no, no. + CLOWN. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a + prince as you are. + LAFEU. Who's that? A Frenchman? + CLOWN. Faith, sir, 'a has an English name; but his fisnomy is more + hotter in France than there. + LAFEU. What prince is that? + CLOWN. The Black Prince, sir; alias, the Prince of Darkness; alias, + the devil. + LAFEU. Hold thee, there's my purse. I give thee not this to suggest + thee from thy master thou talk'st of; serve him still. + CLOWN. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; + and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he + is the prince of the world; let his nobility remain in's court. I + am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too + little for pomp to enter. Some that humble themselves may; but + the many will be too chill and tender: and they'll be for the + flow'ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire. + LAFEU. Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee; and I tell thee + so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways; + let my horses be well look'd to, without any tricks. + CLOWN. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' + tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature. + Exit + LAFEU. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy. + COUNTESS. So 'a is. My lord that's gone made himself much sport + out of him. By his authority he remains here, which he thinks is + a patent for his sauciness; and indeed he has no pace, but runs + where he will. + LAFEU. I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was about to tell + you, since I heard of the good lady's death, and that my lord + your son was upon his return home, I moved the King my master to + speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of + them both, his Majesty out of a self-gracious remembrance did + first propose. His Highness hath promis'd me to do it; and, to + stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there + is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it? + COUNTESS. With very much content, my lord; and I wish it happily + effected. + LAFEU. His Highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as + when he number'd thirty; 'a will be here to-morrow, or I am + deceiv'd by him that in such intelligence hath seldom fail'd. + COUNTESS. It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him ere I die. + I have letters that my son will be here to-night. I shall beseech + your lordship to remain with me tal they meet together. + LAFEU. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be + admitted. + COUNTESS. You need but plead your honourable privilege. + LAFEU. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my + God, it holds yet. + + Re-enter CLOWN + + CLOWN. O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velvet + on's face; whether there be a scar under 't or no, the velvet + knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet. His left cheek is a + cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare. + LAFEU. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good liv'ry of + honour; so belike is that. + CLOWN. But it is your carbonado'd face. + LAFEU. Let us go see your son, I pray you; + I long to talk with the young noble soldier. + CLOWN. Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats, and + most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man. + Exeunt + + + +<> + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1. +Marseilles. A street + +Enter HELENA, WIDOW, and DIANA, with two ATTENDANTS + + HELENA. But this exceeding posting day and night + Must wear your spirits low; we cannot help it. + But since you have made the days and nights as one, + To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, + Be bold you do so grow in my requital + As nothing can unroot you. + + Enter a GENTLEMAN + + In happy time! + This man may help me to his Majesty's ear, + If he would spend his power. God save you, sir. + GENTLEMAN. And you. + HELENA. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. + GENTLEMAN. I have been sometimes there. + HELENA. I do presume, sir, that you are not fall'n + From the report that goes upon your goodness; + And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, + Which lay nice manners by, I put you to + The use of your own virtues, for the which + I shall continue thankful. + GENTLEMAN. What's your will? + HELENA. That it will please you + To give this poor petition to the King; + And aid me with that store of power you have + To come into his presence. + GENTLEMAN. The King's not here. + HELENA. Not here, sir? + GENTLEMAN. Not indeed. + He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste + Than is his use. + WIDOW. Lord, how we lose our pains! + HELENA. All's Well That Ends Well yet, + Though time seem so adverse and means unfit. + I do beseech you, whither is he gone? + GENTLEMAN. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon; + Whither I am going. + HELENA. I do beseech you, sir, + Since you are like to see the King before me, + Commend the paper to his gracious hand; + Which I presume shall render you no blame, + But rather make you thank your pains for it. + I will come after you with what good speed + Our means will make us means. + GENTLEMAN. This I'll do for you. + HELENA. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd, + Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again; + Go, go, provide. Exeunt + + + + +ACT V SCENE 2. +Rousillon. The inner court of the COUNT'S palace + +Enter CLOWN and PAROLLES + + PAROLLES. Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu this letter. I + have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held + familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in + Fortune's mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong + displeasure. + CLOWN. Truly, Fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell + so strongly as thou speak'st of. I will henceforth eat no fish + of Fortune's butt'ring. Prithee, allow the wind. + PAROLLES. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake but by + a metaphor. + CLOWN. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or + against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get thee further. + PAROLLES. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. + CLOWN. Foh! prithee stand away. A paper from Fortune's close-stool + to give to a nobleman! Look here he comes himself. + + Enter LAFEU + + Here is a pur of Fortune's, sir, or of Fortune's cat, but not + a musk-cat, that has fall'n into the unclean fishpond of her + displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal. Pray you, sir, + use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, + ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress + in my similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. + Exit + PAROLLES. My lord, I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly scratch'd. + LAFEU. And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to pare her + nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with Fortune, that + she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady and would + not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a cardecue for + you. Let the justices make you and Fortune friends; I am for + other business. + PAROLLES. I beseech your honour to hear me one single word. + LAFEU. You beg a single penny more; come, you shall ha't; save your + word. + PAROLLES. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. + LAFEU. You beg more than word then. Cox my passion! give me your + hand. How does your drum? + PAROLLES. O my good lord, you were the first that found me. + LAFEU. Was I, in sooth? And I was the first that lost thee. + PAROLLES. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for + you did bring me out. + LAFEU. Out upon thee, knave! Dost thou put upon me at once both the + office of God and the devil? One brings the in grace, and the + other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound] The King's coming; I + know by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me; I had + talk of you last night. Though you are a fool and a knave, you + shall eat. Go to; follow. + PAROLLES. I praise God for you. Exeunt + + + + +ACT V SCENE 3. +Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace + +Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, the two FRENCH LORDS, with ATTENDANTS + + KING. We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem + Was made much poorer by it; but your son, + As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know + Her estimation home. + COUNTESS. 'Tis past, my liege; + And I beseech your Majesty to make it + Natural rebellion, done i' th' blaze of youth, + When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, + O'erbears it and burns on. + KING. My honour'd lady, + I have forgiven and forgotten all; + Though my revenges were high bent upon him + And watch'd the time to shoot. + LAFEU. This I must say- + But first, I beg my pardon: the young lord + Did to his Majesty, his mother, and his lady, + Offence of mighty note; but to himself + The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife + Whose beauty did astonish the survey + Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive; + Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve + Humbly call'd mistress. + KING. Praising what is lost + Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither; + We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill + All repetition. Let him not ask our pardon; + The nature of his great offence is dead, + And deeper than oblivion do we bury + Th' incensing relics of it; let him approach, + A stranger, no offender; and inform him + So 'tis our will he should. + GENTLEMAN. I shall, my liege. Exit GENTLEMAN + KING. What says he to your daughter? Have you spoke? + LAFEU. All that he is hath reference to your Highness. + KING. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me + That sets him high in fame. + + Enter BERTRAM + + LAFEU. He looks well on 't. + KING. I am not a day of season, + For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail + In me at once. But to the brightest beams + Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth; + The time is fair again. + BERTRAM. My high-repented blames, + Dear sovereign, pardon to me. + KING. All is whole; + Not one word more of the consumed time. + Let's take the instant by the forward top; + For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees + Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of Time + Steals ere we can effect them. You remember + The daughter of this lord? + BERTRAM. Admiringly, my liege. At first + I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart + Durst make too bold herald of my tongue; + Where the impression of mine eye infixing, + Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, + Which warp'd the line of every other favour, + Scorn'd a fair colour or express'd it stol'n, + Extended or contracted all proportions + To a most hideous object. Thence it came + That she whom all men prais'd, and whom myself, + Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye + The dust that did offend it. + KING. Well excus'd. + That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away + From the great compt; but love that comes too late, + Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, + To the great sender turns a sour offence, + Crying 'That's good that's gone.' Our rash faults + Make trivial price of serious things we have, + Not knowing them until we know their grave. + Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, + Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust; + Our own love waking cries to see what's done, + While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon. + Be this sweet Helen's knell. And now forget her. + Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin. + The main consents are had; and here we'll stay + To see our widower's second marriage-day. + COUNTESS. Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless! + Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse! + LAFEU. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name + Must be digested; give a favour from you, + To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, + That she may quickly come. + [BERTRAM gives a ring] + By my old beard, + And ev'ry hair that's on 't, Helen, that's dead, + Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this, + The last that e'er I took her leave at court, + I saw upon her finger. + BERTRAM. Hers it was not. + KING. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, + While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't. + This ring was mine; and when I gave it Helen + I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood + Necessitied to help, that by this token + I would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave her + Of what should stead her most? + BERTRAM. My gracious sovereign, + Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, + The ring was never hers. + COUNTESS. Son, on my life, + I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it + At her life's rate. + LAFEU. I am sure I saw her wear it. + BERTRAM. You are deceiv'd, my lord; she never saw it. + In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, + Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name + Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought + I stood engag'd; but when I had subscrib'd + To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully + I could not answer in that course of honour + As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, + In heavy satisfaction, and would never + Receive the ring again. + KING. Plutus himself, + That knows the tinct and multiplying med'cine, + Hath not in nature's mystery more science + Than I have in this ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helen's, + Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know + That you are well acquainted with yourself, + Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement + You got it from her. She call'd the saints to surety + That she would never put it from her finger + Unless she gave it to yourself in bed- + Where you have never come- or sent it us + Upon her great disaster. + BERTRAM. She never saw it. + KING. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour; + And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me + Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove + That thou art so inhuman- 'twill not prove so. + And yet I know not- thou didst hate her deadly, + And she is dead; which nothing, but to close + Her eyes myself, could win me to believe + More than to see this ring. Take him away. + [GUARDS seize BERTRAM] + My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, + Shall tax my fears of little vanity, + Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him. + We'll sift this matter further. + BERTRAM. If you shall prove + This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy + Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, + Where she yet never was. Exit, guarded + KING. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. + + Enter a GENTLEMAN + + GENTLEMAN. Gracious sovereign, + Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not: + Here's a petition from a Florentine, + Who hath, for four or five removes, come short + To tender it herself. I undertook it, + Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech + Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know, + Is here attending; her business looks in her + With an importing visage; and she told me + In a sweet verbal brief it did concern + Your Highness with herself. + KING. [Reads the letter] 'Upon his many protestations to marry me + when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the + Count Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and my + honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, + and I follow him to his country for justice. Grant it me, O King! + in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor + maid is undone. + DIANA CAPILET.' + LAFEU. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for this. + I'll none of him. + KING. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu, + To bring forth this discov'ry. Seek these suitors. + Go speedily, and bring again the Count. + Exeunt ATTENDANTS + I am afeard the life of Helen, lady, + Was foully snatch'd. + COUNTESS. Now, justice on the doers! + + Enter BERTRAM, guarded + + KING. I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you. + And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, + Yet you desire to marry. + Enter WIDOW and DIANA + What woman's that? + DIANA. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, + Derived from the ancient Capilet. + My suit, as I do understand, you know, + And therefore know how far I may be pitied. + WIDOW. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour + Both suffer under this complaint we bring, + And both shall cease, without your remedy. + KING. Come hither, Count; do you know these women? + BERTRAM. My lord, I neither can nor will deny + But that I know them. Do they charge me further? + DIANA. Why do you look so strange upon your wife? + BERTRAM. She's none of mine, my lord. + DIANA. If you shall marry, + You give away this hand, and that is mine; + You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine; + You give away myself, which is known mine; + For I by vow am so embodied yours + That she which marries you must marry me, + Either both or none. + LAFEU. [To BERTRAM] Your reputation comes too short for + my daughter; you are no husband for her. + BERTRAM. My lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creature + Whom sometime I have laugh'd with. Let your Highness + Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour + Than for to think that I would sink it here. + KING. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend + Till your deeds gain them. Fairer prove your honour + Than in my thought it lies! + DIANA. Good my lord, + Ask him upon his oath if he does think + He had not my virginity. + KING. What say'st thou to her? + BERTRAM. She's impudent, my lord, + And was a common gamester to the camp. + DIANA. He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so + He might have bought me at a common price. + Do not believe him. o, behold this ring, + Whose high respect and rich validity + Did lack a parallel; yet, for all that, + He gave it to a commoner o' th' camp, + If I be one. + COUNTESS. He blushes, and 'tis it. + Of six preceding ancestors, that gem + Conferr'd by testament to th' sequent issue, + Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife: + That ring's a thousand proofs. + KING. Methought you said + You saw one here in court could witness it. + DIANA. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce + So bad an instrument; his name's Parolles. + LAFEU. I saw the man to-day, if man he be. + KING. Find him, and bring him hither. Exit an ATTENDANT + BERTRAM. What of him? + He's quoted for a most perfidious slave, + With all the spots o' th' world tax'd and debauch'd, + Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. + Am I or that or this for what he'll utter + That will speak anything? + KING. She hath that ring of yours. + BERTRAM. I think she has. Certain it is I lik'd her, + And boarded her i' th' wanton way of youth. + She knew her distance, and did angle for me, + Madding my eagerness with her restraint, + As all impediments in fancy's course + Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, + Her infinite cunning with her modern grace + Subdu'd me to her rate. She got the ring; + And I had that which any inferior might + At market-price have bought. + DIANA. I must be patient. + You that have turn'd off a first so noble wife + May justly diet me. I pray you yet- + Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband- + Send for your ring, I will return it home, + And give me mine again. + BERTRAM. I have it not. + KING. What ring was yours, I pray you? + DIANA. Sir, much like + The same upon your finger. + KING. Know you this ring? This ring was his of late. + DIANA. And this was it I gave him, being abed. + KING. The story, then, goes false you threw it him + Out of a casement. + DIANA. I have spoke the truth. + + Enter PAROLLES + + BERTRAM. My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. + KING. You boggle shrewdly; every feather starts you. + Is this the man you speak of? + DIANA. Ay, my lord. + KING. Tell me, sirrah-but tell me true I charge you, + Not fearing the displeasure of your master, + Which, on your just proceeding, I'll keep off- + By him and by this woman here what know you? + PAROLLES. So please your Majesty, my master hath been an honourable + gentleman; tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have. + KING. Come, come, to th' purpose. Did he love this woman? + PAROLLES. Faith, sir, he did love her; but how? + KING. How, I pray you? + PAROLLES. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman. + KING. How is that? + PAROLLES. He lov'd her, sir, and lov'd her not. + KING. As thou art a knave and no knave. + What an equivocal companion is this! + PAROLLES. I am a poor man, and at your Majesty's command. + LAFEU. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. + DIANA. Do you know he promis'd me marriage? + PAROLLES. Faith, I know more than I'll speak. + KING. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st? + PAROLLES. Yes, so please your Majesty. I did go between them, as I + said; but more than that, he loved her-for indeed he was mad for + her, and talk'd of Satan, and of Limbo, and of Furies, and I know + not what. Yet I was in that credit with them at that time that I + knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promising + her marriage, and things which would derive me ill will to speak + of; therefore I will not speak what I know. + KING. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are + married; but thou art too fine in thy evidence; therefore stand + aside. + This ring, you say, was yours? + DIANA. Ay, my good lord. + KING. Where did you buy it? Or who gave it you? + DIANA. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. + KING. Who lent it you? + DIANA. It was not lent me neither. + KING. Where did you find it then? + DIANA. I found it not. + KING. If it were yours by none of all these ways, + How could you give it him? + DIANA. I never gave it him. + LAFEU. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes of and on at + pleasure. + KING. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife. + DIANA. It might be yours or hers, for aught I know. + KING. Take her away, I do not like her now; + To prison with her. And away with him. + Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, + Thou diest within this hour. + DIANA. I'll never tell you. + KING. Take her away. + DIANA. I'll put in bail, my liege. + KING. I think thee now some common customer. + DIANA. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you. + KING. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this while? + DIANA. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty. + He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't: + I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not. + Great King, I am no strumpet, by my life; + I am either maid, or else this old man's wife. + [Pointing to LAFEU] + KING. She does abuse our ears; to prison with her. + DIANA. Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir; + Exit WIDOW + The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for, + And he shall surety me. But for this lord + Who hath abus'd me as he knows himself, + Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him. + He knows himself my bed he hath defil'd; + And at that time he got his wife with child. + Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick; + So there's my riddle: one that's dead is quick- + And now behold the meaning. + + Re-enter WIDOW with HELENA + + KING. Is there no exorcist + Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? + Is't real that I see? + HELENA. No, my good lord; + 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, + The name and not the thing. + BERTRAM. Both, both; o, pardon! + HELENA. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid, + I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring, + And, look you, here's your letter. This it says: + 'When from my finger you can get this ring, + And are by me with child,' etc. This is done. + Will you be mine now you are doubly won? + BERTRAM. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, + I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. + HELENA. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, + Deadly divorce step between me and you! + O my dear mother, do I see you living? + LAFEU. Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon. [To PAROLLES] + Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher. So, I + thank thee. Wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee; + let thy curtsies alone, they are scurvy ones. + KING. Let us from point to point this story know, + To make the even truth in pleasure flow. + [To DIANA] If thou beest yet a fresh uncropped flower, + Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower; + For I can guess that by thy honest aid + Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.- + Of that and all the progress, more and less, + Resolvedly more leisure shall express. + All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, + The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. [Flourish] + +EPILOGUE + EPILOGUE. + + KING. The King's a beggar, now the play is done. + All is well ended if this suit be won, + That you express content; which we will pay + With strife to please you, day exceeding day. + Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; + Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. + Exeunt omnes + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1607 + +THE TRAGEDY OF ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + MARK ANTONY, Triumvirs + OCTAVIUS CAESAR, " + M. AEMILIUS LEPIDUS, " + SEXTUS POMPEIUS, " + DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, friend to Antony + VENTIDIUS, " " " + EROS, " " " + SCARUS, " " " + DERCETAS, " " " + DEMETRIUS, " " " + PHILO, " " " + MAECENAS, friend to Caesar + AGRIPPA, " " " + DOLABELLA, " " " + PROCULEIUS, " " " + THYREUS, " " " + GALLUS, " " " + MENAS, friend to Pompey + MENECRATES, " " " + VARRIUS, " " " + TAURUS, Lieutenant-General to Caesar + CANIDIUS, Lieutenant-General to Antony + SILIUS, an Officer in Ventidius's army + EUPHRONIUS, an Ambassador from Antony to Caesar + ALEXAS, attendant on Cleopatra + MARDIAN, " " " + SELEUCUS, " " " + DIOMEDES, " " " + A SOOTHSAYER + A CLOWN + + CLEOPATRA, Queen of Egypt + OCTAVIA, sister to Caesar and wife to Antony + CHARMIAN, lady attending on Cleopatra + IRAS, " " " " + + + + Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants + + + +<> + + + + +SCENE: +The Roman Empire + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace + +Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO + + PHILO. Nay, but this dotage of our general's + O'erflows the measure. Those his goodly eyes, + That o'er the files and musters of the war + Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn, + The office and devotion of their view + Upon a tawny front. His captain's heart, + Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst + The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper, + And is become the bellows and the fan + To cool a gipsy's lust. + + Flourish. Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, her LADIES, the train, + with eunuchs fanning her + + Look where they come! + Take but good note, and you shall see in him + The triple pillar of the world transform'd + Into a strumpet's fool. Behold and see. + CLEOPATRA. If it be love indeed, tell me how much. + ANTONY. There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd. + CLEOPATRA. I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd. + ANTONY. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. News, my good lord, from Rome. + ANTONY. Grates me the sum. + CLEOPATRA. Nay, hear them, Antony. + Fulvia perchance is angry; or who knows + If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent + His pow'rful mandate to you: 'Do this or this; + Take in that kingdom and enfranchise that; + Perform't, or else we damn thee.' + ANTONY. How, my love? + CLEOPATRA. Perchance? Nay, and most like, + You must not stay here longer; your dismission + Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony. + Where's Fulvia's process? Caesar's I would say? Both? + Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's Queen, + Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine + Is Caesar's homager. Else so thy cheek pays shame + When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds. The messengers! + ANTONY. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch + Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space. + Kingdoms are clay; our dungy earth alike + Feeds beast as man. The nobleness of life + Is to do thus [emhracing], when such a mutual pair + And such a twain can do't, in which I bind, + On pain of punishment, the world to weet + We stand up peerless. + CLEOPATRA. Excellent falsehood! + Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her? + I'll seem the fool I am not. Antony + Will be himself. + ANTONY. But stirr'd by Cleopatra. + Now for the love of Love and her soft hours, + Let's not confound the time with conference harsh; + There's not a minute of our lives should stretch + Without some pleasure now. What sport to-night? + CLEOPATRA. Hear the ambassadors. + ANTONY. Fie, wrangling queen! + Whom everything becomes- to chide, to laugh, + To weep; whose every passion fully strives + To make itself in thee fair and admir'd. + No messenger but thine, and all alone + To-night we'll wander through the streets and note + The qualities of people. Come, my queen; + Last night you did desire it. Speak not to us. + Exeunt ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, with the train + DEMETRIUS. Is Caesar with Antonius priz'd so slight? + PHILO. Sir, sometimes when he is not Antony, + He comes too short of that great property + Which still should go with Antony. + DEMETRIUS. I am full sorry + That he approves the common liar, who + Thus speaks of him at Rome; but I will hope + Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace + +Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a SOOTHSAYER + + CHARMIAN. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most anything Alexas, almost + most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer that you prais'd so + to th' Queen? O that I knew this husband, which you say must + charge his horns with garlands! + ALEXAS. Soothsayer! + SOOTHSAYER. Your will? + CHARMIAN. Is this the man? Is't you, sir, that know things? + SOOTHSAYER. In nature's infinite book of secrecy + A little I can read. + ALEXAS. Show him your hand. + + Enter ENOBARBUS + + ENOBARBUS. Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough + Cleopatra's health to drink. + CHARMIAN. Good, sir, give me good fortune. + SOOTHSAYER. I make not, but foresee. + CHARMIAN. Pray, then, foresee me one. + SOOTHSAYER. You shall be yet far fairer than you are. + CHARMIAN. He means in flesh. + IRAS. No, you shall paint when you are old. + CHARMIAN. Wrinkles forbid! + ALEXAS. Vex not his prescience; be attentive. + CHARMIAN. Hush! + SOOTHSAYER. You shall be more beloving than beloved. + CHARMIAN. I had rather heat my liver with drinking. + ALEXAS. Nay, hear him. + CHARMIAN. Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married to + three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all. Let me have a + child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage. Find me to + marry me with Octavius Caesar, and companion me with my mistress. + SOOTHSAYER. You shall outlive the lady whom you serve. + CHARMIAN. O, excellent! I love long life better than figs. + SOOTHSAYER. You have seen and prov'd a fairer former fortune + Than that which is to approach. + CHARMIAN. Then belike my children shall have no names. + Prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have? + SOOTHSAYER. If every of your wishes had a womb, + And fertile every wish, a million. + CHARMIAN. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. + ALEXAS. You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes. + CHARMIAN. Nay, come, tell Iras hers. + ALEXAS. We'll know all our fortunes. + ENOBARBUS. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be- + drunk to bed. + IRAS. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else. + CHARMIAN. E'en as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine. + IRAS. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay. + CHARMIAN. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I + cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee, tell her but worky-day fortune. + SOOTHSAYER. Your fortunes are alike. + IRAS. But how, but how? Give me particulars. + SOOTHSAYER. I have said. + IRAS. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she? + CHARMIAN. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, + where would you choose it? + IRAS. Not in my husband's nose. + CHARMIAN. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas- come, his + fortune, his fortune! O, let him marry a woman that cannot go, + sweet Isis, I beseech thee! And let her die too, and give him a + worse! And let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow + him laughing to his grave, fiftyfold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear + me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good + Isis, I beseech thee! + IRAS. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! For, as + it is a heartbreaking to see a handsome man loose-wiv'd, so it is + a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded. Therefore, + dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly! + CHARMIAN. Amen. + ALEXAS. Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they + would make themselves whores but they'ld do't! + + Enter CLEOPATRA + + ENOBARBUS. Hush! Here comes Antony. + CHARMIAN. Not he; the Queen. + CLEOPATRA. Saw you my lord? + ENOBARBUS. No, lady. + CLEOPATRA. Was he not here? + CHARMIAN. No, madam. + CLEOPATRA. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the sudden + A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus! + ENOBARBUS. Madam? + CLEOPATRA. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's Alexas? + ALEXAS. Here, at your service. My lord approaches. + + Enter ANTONY, with a MESSENGER and attendants + + CLEOPATRA. We will not look upon him. Go with us. + Exeunt CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, and the rest + MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field. + ANTONY. Against my brother Lucius? + MESSENGER. Ay. + But soon that war had end, and the time's state + Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Caesar, + Whose better issue in the war from Italy + Upon the first encounter drave them. + ANTONY. Well, what worst? + MESSENGER. The nature of bad news infects the teller. + ANTONY. When it concerns the fool or coward. On! + Things that are past are done with me. 'Tis thus: + Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, + I hear him as he flatter'd. + MESSENGER. Labienus- + This is stiff news- hath with his Parthian force + Extended Asia from Euphrates, + His conquering banner shook from Syria + To Lydia and to Ionia, + Whilst- + ANTONY. Antony, thou wouldst say. + MESSENGER. O, my lord! + ANTONY. Speak to me home; mince not the general tongue; + Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome. + Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase, and taunt my faults + With such full licence as both truth and malice + Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds + When our quick minds lie still, and our ills told us + Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile. + MESSENGER. At your noble pleasure. Exit + ANTONY. From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak there! + FIRST ATTENDANT. The man from Sicyon- is there such an one? + SECOND ATTENDANT. He stays upon your will. + ANTONY. Let him appear. + These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, + Or lose myself in dotage. + + Enter another MESSENGER with a letter + + What are you? + SECOND MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife is dead. + ANTONY. Where died she? + SECOND MESSENGER. In Sicyon. + Her length of sickness, with what else more serious + Importeth thee to know, this bears. [Gives the letter] + ANTONY. Forbear me. Exit MESSENGER + There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it. + What our contempts doth often hurl from us + We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, + By revolution low'ring, does become + The opposite of itself. She's good, being gone; + The hand could pluck her back that shov'd her on. + I must from this enchanting queen break off. + Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know, + My idleness doth hatch. How now, Enobarbus! + + Re-enter ENOBARBUS + + ENOBARBUS. What's your pleasure, sir? + ANTONY. I must with haste from hence. + ENOBARBUS. Why, then we kill all our women. We see how mortal an + unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the + word. + ANTONY. I must be gone. + ENOBARBUS. Under a compelling occasion, let women die. It were pity + to cast them away for nothing, though between them and a great + cause they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but + the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have seen her die + twenty times upon far poorer moment. I do think there is mettle + in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a + celerity in dying. + ANTONY. She is cunning past man's thought. + ENOBARBUS. Alack, sir, no! Her passions are made of nothing but the + finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters + sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than + almanacs can report. This cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she + makes a show'r of rain as well as Jove. + ANTONY. Would I had never seen her! + ENOBARBUS. O Sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of + work, which not to have been blest withal would have discredited + your travel. + ANTONY. Fulvia is dead. + ENOBARBUS. Sir? + ANTONY. Fulvia is dead. + ENOBARBUS. Fulvia? + ANTONY. Dead. + ENOBARBUS. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it + pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it + shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein that + when old robes are worn out there are members to make new. If + there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, + and the case to be lamented. This grief is crown'd with + consolation: your old smock brings forth a new petticoat; and + indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow. + ANTONY. The business she hath broached in the state + Cannot endure my absence. + ENOBARBUS. And the business you have broach'd here cannot be + without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends + on your abode. + ANTONY. No more light answers. Let our officers + Have notice what we purpose. I shall break + The cause of our expedience to the Queen, + And get her leave to part. For not alone + The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, + Do strongly speak to us; but the letters to + Of many our contriving friends in Rome + Petition us at home. Sextus Pompeius + Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands + The empire of the sea; our slippery people, + Whose love is never link'd to the deserver + Till his deserts are past, begin to throw + Pompey the Great and all his dignities + Upon his son; who, high in name and power, + Higher than both in blood and life, stands up + For the main soldier; whose quality, going on, + The sides o' th' world may danger. Much is breeding + Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life + And not a serpent's poison. Say our pleasure, + To such whose place is under us, requires + Our quick remove from hence. + ENOBARBUS. I shall do't. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace + +Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS + + CLEOPATRA. Where is he? + CHARMIAN. I did not see him since. + CLEOPATRA. See where he is, who's with him, what he does. + I did not send you. If you find him sad, + Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report + That I am sudden sick. Quick, and return. Exit ALEXAS + CHARMIAN. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly, + You do not hold the method to enforce + The like from him. + CLEOPATRA. What should I do I do not? + CHARMIAN. In each thing give him way; cross him in nothing. + CLEOPATRA. Thou teachest like a fool- the way to lose him. + CHARMIAN. Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear; + In time we hate that which we often fear. + + Enter ANTONY + + But here comes Antony. + CLEOPATRA. I am sick and sullen. + ANTONY. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose- + CLEOPATRA. Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall. + It cannot be thus long; the sides of nature + Will not sustain it. + ANTONY. Now, my dearest queen- + CLEOPATRA. Pray you, stand farther from me. + ANTONY. What's the matter? + CLEOPATRA. I know by that same eye there's some good news. + What says the married woman? You may go. + Would she had never given you leave to come! + Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here- + I have no power upon you; hers you are. + ANTONY. The gods best know- + CLEOPATRA. O, never was there queen + So mightily betray'd! Yet at the first + I saw the treasons planted. + ANTONY. Cleopatra- + CLEOPATRA. Why should I think you can be mine and true, + Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, + Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness, + To be entangled with those mouth-made vows, + Which break themselves in swearing! + ANTONY. Most sweet queen- + CLEOPATRA. Nay, pray you seek no colour for your going, + But bid farewell, and go. When you sued staying, + Then was the time for words. No going then! + Eternity was in our lips and eyes, + Bliss in our brows' bent, none our parts so poor + But was a race of heaven. They are so still, + Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, + Art turn'd the greatest liar. + ANTONY. How now, lady! + CLEOPATRA. I would I had thy inches. Thou shouldst know + There were a heart in Egypt. + ANTONY. Hear me, queen: + The strong necessity of time commands + Our services awhile; but my full heart + Remains in use with you. Our Italy + Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius + Makes his approaches to the port of Rome; + Equality of two domestic powers + Breed scrupulous faction; the hated, grown to strength, + Are newly grown to love. The condemn'd Pompey, + Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace + Into the hearts of such as have not thrived + Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten; + And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge + By any desperate change. My more particular, + And that which most with you should safe my going, + Is Fulvia's death. + CLEOPATRA. Though age from folly could not give me freedom, + It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die? + ANTONY. She's dead, my Queen. + Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read + The garboils she awak'd. At the last, best. + See when and where she died. + CLEOPATRA. O most false love! + Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill + With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, + In Fulvia's death how mine receiv'd shall be. + ANTONY. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know + The purposes I bear; which are, or cease, + As you shall give th' advice. By the fire + That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence + Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war + As thou affects. + CLEOPATRA. Cut my lace, Charmian, come! + But let it be; I am quickly ill and well- + So Antony loves. + ANTONY. My precious queen, forbear, + And give true evidence to his love, which stands + An honourable trial. + CLEOPATRA. So Fulvia told me. + I prithee turn aside and weep for her; + Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears + Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene + Of excellent dissembling, and let it look + Like perfect honour. + ANTONY. You'll heat my blood; no more. + CLEOPATRA. You can do better yet; but this is meetly. + ANTONY. Now, by my sword- + CLEOPATRA. And target. Still he mends; + But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian, + How this Herculean Roman does become + The carriage of his chafe. + ANTONY. I'll leave you, lady. + CLEOPATRA. Courteous lord, one word. + Sir, you and I must part- but that's not it. + Sir, you and I have lov'd- but there's not it. + That you know well. Something it is I would- + O, my oblivion is a very Antony, + And I am all forgotten! + ANTONY. But that your royalty + Holds idleness your subject, I should take you + For idleness itself. + CLEOPATRA. 'Tis sweating labour + To bear such idleness so near the heart + As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me; + Since my becomings kill me when they do not + Eye well to you. Your honour calls you hence; + Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly, + And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword + Sit laurel victory, and smooth success + Be strew'd before your feet! + ANTONY. Let us go. Come. + Our separation so abides and flies + That thou, residing here, goes yet with me, + And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. + Away! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Rome. CAESAR'S house + +Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, reading a letter; LEPIDUS, and their train + + CAESAR. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, + It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate + Our great competitor. From Alexandria + This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes + The lamps of night in revel; is not more manlike + Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy + More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or + Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners. You shall find there + A man who is the abstract of all faults + That all men follow. + LEPIDUS. I must not think there are + Evils enow to darken all his goodness. + His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven, + More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary + Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change + Than what he chooses. + CAESAR. You are too indulgent. Let's grant it is not + Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy, + To give a kingdom for a mirth, to sit + And keep the turn of tippling with a slave, + To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet + With knaves that smell of sweat. Say this becomes him- + As his composure must be rare indeed + Whom these things cannot blemish- yet must Antony + No way excuse his foils when we do bear + So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd + His vacancy with his voluptuousness, + Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones + Call on him for't! But to confound such time + That drums him from his sport and speaks as loud + As his own state and ours- 'tis to be chid + As we rate boys who, being mature in knowledge, + Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, + And so rebel to judgment. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + LEPIDUS. Here's more news. + MESSENGER. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour, + Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report + How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea, + And it appears he is belov'd of those + That only have fear'd Caesar. To the ports + The discontents repair, and men's reports + Give him much wrong'd. + CAESAR. I should have known no less. + It hath been taught us from the primal state + That he which is was wish'd until he were; + And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love, + Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common body, + Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, + Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, + To rot itself with motion. + MESSENGER. Caesar, I bring thee word + Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, + Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound + With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads + They make in Italy; the borders maritime + Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt. + No vessel can peep forth but 'tis as soon + Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more + Than could his war resisted. + CAESAR. Antony, + Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once + Was beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st + Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel + Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against, + Though daintily brought up, with patience more + Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink + The stale of horses and the gilded puddle + Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate then did deign + The roughest berry on the rudest hedge; + Yea, like the stag when snow the pasture sheets, + The barks of trees thou brows'd. On the Alps + It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh, + Which some did die to look on. And all this- + It wounds thine honour that I speak it now- + Was borne so like a soldier that thy cheek + So much as lank'd not. + LEPIDUS. 'Tis pity of him. + CAESAR. Let his shames quickly + Drive him to Rome. 'Tis time we twain + Did show ourselves i' th' field; and to that end + Assemble we immediate council. Pompey + Thrives in our idleness. + LEPIDUS. To-morrow, Caesar, + I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly + Both what by sea and land I can be able + To front this present time. + CAESAR. Till which encounter + It is my business too. Farewell. + LEPIDUS. Farewell, my lord. What you shall know meantime + Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, + To let me be partaker. + CAESAR. Doubt not, sir; + I knew it for my bond. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace + +Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN + + CLEOPATRA. Charmian! + CHARMIAN. Madam? + CLEOPATRA. Ha, ha! + Give me to drink mandragora. + CHARMIAN. Why, madam? + CLEOPATRA. That I might sleep out this great gap of time + My Antony is away. + CHARMIAN. You think of him too much. + CLEOPATRA. O, 'tis treason! + CHARMIAN. Madam, I trust, not so. + CLEOPATRA. Thou, eunuch Mardian! + MARDIAN. What's your Highness' pleasure? + CLEOPATRA. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure + In aught an eunuch has. 'Tis well for thee + That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts + May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections? + MARDIAN. Yes, gracious madam. + CLEOPATRA. Indeed? + MARDIAN. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing + But what indeed is honest to be done. + Yet have I fierce affections, and think + What Venus did with Mars. + CLEOPATRA. O Charmian, + Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he or sits he? + Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? + O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! + Do bravely, horse; for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st? + The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm + And burgonet of men. He's speaking now, + Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?' + For so he calls me. Now I feed myself + With most delicious poison. Think on me, + That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, + And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar, + When thou wast here above the ground, I was + A morsel for a monarch; and great Pompey + Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow; + There would he anchor his aspect and die + With looking on his life. + + Enter ALEXAS + + ALEXAS. Sovereign of Egypt, hail! + CLEOPATRA. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! + Yet, coming from him, that great med'cine hath + With his tinct gilded thee. + How goes it with my brave Mark Antony? + ALEXAS. Last thing he did, dear Queen, + He kiss'd- the last of many doubled kisses- + This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart. + CLEOPATRA. Mine ear must pluck it thence. + ALEXAS. 'Good friend,' quoth he + 'Say the firm Roman to great Egypt sends + This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot, + To mend the petty present, I will piece + Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the East, + Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded, + And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed, + Who neigh'd so high that what I would have spoke + Was beastly dumb'd by him. + CLEOPATRA. What, was he sad or merry? + ALEXAS. Like to the time o' th' year between the extremes + Of hot and cold; he was nor sad nor merry. + CLEOPATRA. O well-divided disposition! Note him, + Note him, good Charmian; 'tis the man; but note him! + He was not sad, for he would shine on those + That make their looks by his; he was not merry, + Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay + In Egypt with his joy; but between both. + O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry, + The violence of either thee becomes, + So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts? + ALEXAS. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers. + Why do you send so thick? + CLEOPATRA. Who's born that day + When I forget to send to Antony + Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian. + Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian, + Ever love Caesar so? + CHARMIAN. O that brave Caesar! + CLEOPATRA. Be chok'd with such another emphasis! + Say 'the brave Antony.' + CHARMIAN. The valiant Caesar! + CLEOPATRA. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth + If thou with Caesar paragon again + My man of men. + CHARMIAN. By your most gracious pardon, + I sing but after you. + CLEOPATRA. My salad days, + When I was green in judgment, cold in blood, + To say as I said then. But come, away! + Get me ink and paper. + He shall have every day a several greeting, + Or I'll unpeople Egypt. Exeunt + + + +<> + + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +Messina. POMPEY'S house + +Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS, in warlike manner + + POMPEY. If the great gods be just, they shall assist + The deeds of justest men. + MENECRATES. Know, worthy Pompey, + That what they do delay they not deny. + POMPEY. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays + The thing we sue for. + MENECRATES. We, ignorant of ourselves, + Beg often our own harms, which the wise pow'rs + Deny us for our good; so find we profit + By losing of our prayers. + POMPEY. I shall do well. + The people love me, and the sea is mine; + My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope + Says it will come to th' full. Mark Antony + In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make + No wars without doors. Caesar gets money where + He loses hearts. Lepidus flatters both, + Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves, + Nor either cares for him. + MENAS. Caesar and Lepidus + Are in the field. A mighty strength they carry. + POMPEY. Where have you this? 'Tis false. + MENAS. From Silvius, sir. + POMPEY. He dreams. I know they are in Rome together, + Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love, + Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd lip! + Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both; + Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts, + Keep his brain fuming. Epicurean cooks + Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite, + That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour + Even till a Lethe'd dullness- + + Enter VARRIUS + + How now, Varrius! + VARRIUS. This is most certain that I shall deliver: + Mark Antony is every hour in Rome + Expected. Since he went from Egypt 'tis + A space for farther travel. + POMPEY. I could have given less matter + A better ear. Menas, I did not think + This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm + For such a petty war; his soldiership + Is twice the other twain. But let us rear + The higher our opinion, that our stirring + Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck + The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony. + MENAS. I cannot hope + Caesar and Antony shall well greet together. + His wife that's dead did trespasses to Caesar; + His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think, + Not mov'd by Antony. + POMPEY. I know not, Menas, + How lesser enmities may give way to greater. + Were't not that we stand up against them all, + 'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves; + For they have entertained cause enough + To draw their swords. But how the fear of us + May cement their divisions, and bind up + The petty difference we yet not know. + Be't as our gods will have't! It only stands + Our lives upon to use our strongest hands. + Come, Menas. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Rome. The house of LEPIDUS + +Enter ENOBARBUS and LEPIDUS + + LEPIDUS. Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed, + And shall become you well, to entreat your captain + To soft and gentle speech. + ENOBARBUS. I shall entreat him + To answer like himself. If Caesar move him, + Let Antony look over Caesar's head + And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter, + Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard, + I would not shave't to-day. + LEPIDUS. 'Tis not a time + For private stomaching. + ENOBARBUS. Every time + Serves for the matter that is then born in't. + LEPIDUS. But small to greater matters must give way. + ENOBARBUS. Not if the small come first. + LEPIDUS. Your speech is passion; + But pray you stir no embers up. Here comes + The noble Antony. + + Enter ANTONY and VENTIDIUS + + ENOBARBUS. And yonder, Caesar. + + Enter CAESAR, MAECENAS, and AGRIPPA + + ANTONY. If we compose well here, to Parthia. + Hark, Ventidius. + CAESAR. I do not know, Maecenas. Ask Agrippa. + LEPIDUS. Noble friends, + That which combin'd us was most great, and let not + A leaner action rend us. What's amiss, + May it be gently heard. When we debate + Our trivial difference loud, we do commit + Murder in healing wounds. Then, noble partners, + The rather for I earnestly beseech, + Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms, + Nor curstness grow to th' matter. + ANTONY. 'Tis spoken well. + Were we before our arinies, and to fight, + I should do thus. [Flourish] + CAESAR. Welcome to Rome. + ANTONY. Thank you. + CAESAR. Sit. + ANTONY. Sit, sir. + CAESAR. Nay, then. [They sit] + ANTONY. I learn you take things ill which are not so, + Or being, concern you not. + CAESAR. I must be laugh'd at + If, or for nothing or a little, + Should say myself offended, and with you + Chiefly i' the world; more laugh'd at that I should + Once name you derogately when to sound your name + It not concern'd me. + ANTONY. My being in Egypt, Caesar, + What was't to you? + CAESAR. No more than my residing here at Rome + Might be to you in Egypt. Yet, if you there + Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt + Might be my question. + ANTONY. How intend you- practis'd? + CAESAR. You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent + By what did here befall me. Your wife and brother + Made wars upon me, and their contestation + Was theme for you; you were the word of war. + ANTONY. You do mistake your business; my brother never + Did urge me in his act. I did inquire it, + And have my learning from some true reports + That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather + Discredit my authority with yours, + And make the wars alike against my stomach, + Having alike your cause? Of this my letters + Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel, + As matter whole you have not to make it with, + It must not be with this. + CAESAR. You praise yourself + By laying defects of judgment to me; but + You patch'd up your excuses. + ANTONY. Not so, not so; + I know you could not lack, I am certain on't, + Very necessity of this thought, that I, + Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought, + Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars + Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife, + I would you had her spirit in such another! + The third o' th' world is yours, which with a snaffle + You may pace easy, but not such a wife. + ENOBARBUS. Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to + wars with the women! + ANTONY. So much uncurbable, her garboils, Caesar, + Made out of her impatience- which not wanted + Shrewdness of policy too- I grieving grant + Did you too much disquiet. For that you must + But say I could not help it. + CAESAR. I wrote to you + When rioting in Alexandria; you + Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts + Did gibe my missive out of audience. + ANTONY. Sir, + He fell upon me ere admitted. Then + Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want + Of what I was i' th' morning; but next day + I told him of myself, which was as much + As to have ask'd him pardon. Let this fellow + Be nothing of our strife; if we contend, + Out of our question wipe him. + CAESAR. You have broken + The article of your oath, which you shall never + Have tongue to charge me with. + LEPIDUS. Soft, Caesar! + ANTONY. No; + Lepidus, let him speak. + The honour is sacred which he talks on now, + Supposing that I lack'd it. But on, Caesar: + The article of my oath- + CAESAR. To lend me arms and aid when I requir'd them, + The which you both denied. + ANTONY. Neglected, rather; + And then when poisoned hours had bound me up + From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may, + I'll play the penitent to you; but mine honesty + Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power + Work without it. Truth is, that Fulvia, + To have me out of Egypt, made wars here; + For which myself, the ignorant motive, do + So far ask pardon as befits mine honour + To stoop in such a case. + LEPIDUS. 'Tis noble spoken. + MAECENAS. If it might please you to enforce no further + The griefs between ye- to forget them quite + Were to remember that the present need + Speaks to atone you. + LEPIDUS. Worthily spoken, Maecenas. + ENOBARBUS. Or, if you borrow one another's love for the instant, + you may, when you hear no more words of Pompey, return it again. + You shall have time to wrangle in when you have nothing else to + do. + ANTONY. Thou art a soldier only. Speak no more. + ENOBARBUS. That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. + ANTONY. You wrong this presence; therefore speak no more. + ENOBARBUS. Go to, then- your considerate stone! + CAESAR. I do not much dislike the matter, but + The manner of his speech; for't cannot be + We shall remain in friendship, our conditions + So diff'ring in their acts. Yet if I knew + What hoop should hold us stanch, from edge to edge + O' th' world, I would pursue it. + AGRIPPA. Give me leave, Caesar. + CAESAR. Speak, Agrippa. + AGRIPPA. Thou hast a sister by the mother's side, + Admir'd Octavia. Great Mark Antony + Is now a widower. + CAESAR. Say not so, Agrippa. + If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof + Were well deserv'd of rashness. + ANTONY. I am not married, Caesar. Let me hear + Agrippa further speak. + AGRIPPA. To hold you in perpetual amity, + To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts + With an unslipping knot, take Antony + Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims + No worse a husband than the best of men; + Whose virtue and whose general graces speak + That which none else can utter. By this marriage + All little jealousies, which now seem great, + And all great fears, which now import their dangers, + Would then be nothing. Truths would be tales, + Where now half tales be truths. Her love to both + Would each to other, and all loves to both, + Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke; + For 'tis a studied, not a present thought, + By duty ruminated. + ANTONY. Will Caesar speak? + CAESAR. Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd + With what is spoke already. + ANTONY. What power is in Agrippa, + If I would say 'Agrippa, be it so,' + To make this good? + CAESAR. The power of Caesar, and + His power unto Octavia. + ANTONY. May I never + To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, + Dream of impediment! Let me have thy hand. + Further this act of grace; and from this hour + The heart of brothers govern in our loves + And sway our great designs! + CAESAR. There is my hand. + A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother + Did ever love so dearly. Let her live + To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and never + Fly off our loves again! + LEPIDUS. Happily, amen! + ANTONY. I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey; + For he hath laid strange courtesies and great + Of late upon me. I must thank him only, + Lest my remembrance suffer ill report; + At heel of that, defy him. + LEPIDUS. Time calls upon's. + Of us must Pompey presently be sought, + Or else he seeks out us. + ANTONY. Where lies he? + CAESAR. About the Mount Misenum. + ANTONY. What is his strength by land? + CAESAR. Great and increasing; but by sea + He is an absolute master. + ANTONY. So is the fame. + Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it. + Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we + The business we have talk'd of. + CAESAR. With most gladness; + And do invite you to my sister's view, + Whither straight I'll lead you. + ANTONY. Let us, Lepidus, + Not lack your company. + LEPIDUS. Noble Antony, + Not sickness should detain me. [Flourish] + Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS, AGRIPPA, MAECENAS + MAECENAS. Welcome from Egypt, sir. + ENOBARBUS. Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Maecenas! My honourable + friend, Agrippa! + AGRIPPA. Good Enobarbus! + MAECENAS. We have cause to be glad that matters are so well + digested. You stay'd well by't in Egypt. + ENOBARBUS. Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance and made + the night light with drinking. + MAECENAS. Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but + twelve persons there. Is this true? + ENOBARBUS. This was but as a fly by an eagle. We had much more + monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting. + MAECENAS. She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her. + ENOBARBUS. When she first met Mark Antony she purs'd up his heart, + upon the river of Cydnus. + AGRIPPA. There she appear'd indeed! Or my reporter devis'd well for + her. + ENOBARBUS. I will tell you. + The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, + Burn'd on the water. The poop was beaten gold; + Purple the sails, and so perfumed that + The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, + Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made + The water which they beat to follow faster, + As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, + It beggar'd all description. She did lie + In her pavilion, cloth-of-gold, of tissue, + O'erpicturing that Venus where we see + The fancy out-work nature. On each side her + Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, + With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem + To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, + And what they undid did. + AGRIPPA. O, rare for Antony! + ENOBARBUS. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, + So many mermaids, tended her i' th' eyes, + And made their bends adornings. At the helm + A seeming mermaid steers. The silken tackle + Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands + That yarely frame the office. From the barge + A strange invisible perfume hits the sense + Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast + Her people out upon her; and Antony, + Enthron'd i' th' market-place, did sit alone, + Whistling to th' air; which, but for vacancy, + Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, + And made a gap in nature. + AGRIPPA. Rare Egyptian! + ENOBARBUS. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, + Invited her to supper. She replied + It should be better he became her guest; + Which she entreated. Our courteous Antony, + Whom ne'er the word of 'No' woman heard speak, + Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast, + And for his ordinary pays his heart + For what his eyes eat only. + AGRIPPA. Royal wench! + She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed. + He ploughed her, and she cropp'd. + ENOBARBUS. I saw her once + Hop forty paces through the public street; + And, having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted, + That she did make defect perfection, + And, breathless, pow'r breathe forth. + MAECENAS. Now Antony must leave her utterly. + ENOBARBUS. Never! He will not. + Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale + Her infinite variety. Other women cloy + The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry + Where most she satisfies; for vilest things + Become themselves in her, that the holy priests + Bless her when she is riggish. + MAECENAS. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle + The heart of Antony, Octavia is + A blessed lottery to him. + AGRIPPA. Let us go. + Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest + Whilst you abide here. + ENOBARBUS. Humbly, sir, I thank you. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Rome. CAESAR'S house + +Enter ANTONY, CAESAR, OCTAVIA between them + + ANTONY. The world and my great office will sometimes + Divide me from your bosom. + OCTAVIA. All which time + Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers + To them for you. + ANTONY. Good night, sir. My Octavia, + Read not my blemishes in the world's report. + I have not kept my square; but that to come + Shall all be done by th' rule. Good night, dear lady. + OCTAVIA. Good night, sir. + CAESAR. Good night. Exeunt CAESAR and OCTAVIA + + Enter SOOTHSAYER + + ANTONY. Now, sirrah, you do wish yourself in Egypt? + SOOTHSAYER. Would I had never come from thence, nor you thither! + ANTONY. If you can- your reason. + SOOTHSAYER. I see it in my motion, have it not in my tongue; but + yet hie you to Egypt again. + ANTONY. Say to me, + Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar's or mine? + SOOTHSAYER. Caesar's. + Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side. + Thy daemon, that thy spirit which keeps thee, is + Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable, + Where Caesar's is not; but near him thy angel + Becomes a fear, as being o'erpow'r'd. Therefore + Make space enough between you. + ANTONY. Speak this no more. + SOOTHSAYER. To none but thee; no more but when to thee. + If thou dost play with him at any game, + Thou art sure to lose; and of that natural luck + He beats thee 'gainst the odds. Thy lustre thickens + When he shines by. I say again, thy spirit + Is all afraid to govern thee near him; + But, he away, 'tis noble. + ANTONY. Get thee gone. + Say to Ventidius I would speak with him. + Exit SOOTHSAYER + He shall to Parthia.- Be it art or hap, + He hath spoken true. The very dice obey him; + And in our sports my better cunning faints + Under his chance. If we draw lots, he speeds; + His cocks do win the battle still of mine, + When it is all to nought, and his quails ever + Beat mine, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egypt; + And though I make this marriage for my peace, + I' th' East my pleasure lies. + + Enter VENTIDIUS + + O, come, Ventidius, + You must to Parthia. Your commission's ready; + Follow me and receive't. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Rome. A street + +Enter LEPIDUS, MAECENAS, and AGRIPPA + + LEPIDUS. Trouble yourselves no further. Pray you hasten + Your generals after. + AGRIPPA. Sir, Mark Antony + Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow. + LEPIDUS. Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress, + Which will become you both, farewell. + MAECENAS. We shall, + As I conceive the journey, be at th' Mount + Before you, Lepidus. + LEPIDUS. Your way is shorter; + My purposes do draw me much about. + You'll win two days upon me. + BOTH. Sir, good success! + LEPIDUS. Farewell. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace + +Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS + + CLEOPATRA. Give me some music- music, moody food + Of us that trade in love. + ALL. The music, ho! + + Enter MARDIAN the eunuch + + CLEOPATRA. Let it alone! Let's to billiards. Come, Charmian. + CHARMIAN. My arm is sore; best play with Mardian. + CLEOPATRA. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd + As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, sir? + MARDIAN. As well as I can, madam. + CLEOPATRA. And when good will is show'd, though't come too short, + The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now. + Give me mine angle- we'll to th' river. There, + My music playing far off, I will betray + Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce + Their slimy jaws; and as I draw them up + I'll think them every one an Antony, + And say 'Ah ha! Y'are caught.' + CHARMIAN. 'Twas merry when + You wager'd on your angling; when your diver + Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he + With fervency drew up. + CLEOPATRA. That time? O times + I laughed him out of patience; and that night + I laugh'd him into patience; and next morn, + Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed, + Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst + I wore his sword Philippan. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + O! from Italy? + Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, + That long time have been barren. + MESSENGER. Madam, madam- + CLEOPATRA. Antony's dead! If thou say so, villain, + Thou kill'st thy mistress; but well and free, + If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here + My bluest veins to kiss- a hand that kings + Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing. + MESSENGER. First, madam, he is well. + CLEOPATRA. Why, there's more gold. + But, sirrah, mark, we use + To say the dead are well. Bring it to that, + The gold I give thee will I melt and pour + Down thy ill-uttering throat. + MESSENGER. Good madam, hear me. + CLEOPATRA. Well, go to, I will. + But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony + Be free and healthful- why so tart a favour + To trumpet such good tidings? If not well, + Thou shouldst come like a Fury crown'd with snakes, + Not like a formal man. + MESSENGER. Will't please you hear me? + CLEOPATRA. I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st. + Yet, if thou say Antony lives, is well, + Or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him, + I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail + Rich pearls upon thee. + MESSENGER. Madam, he's well. + CLEOPATRA. Well said. + MESSENGER. And friends with Caesar. + CLEOPATRA. Th'art an honest man. + MESSENGER. Caesar and he are greater friends than ever. + CLEOPATRA. Make thee a fortune from me. + MESSENGER. But yet, madam- + CLEOPATRA. I do not like 'but yet.' It does allay + The good precedence; fie upon 'but yet'! + 'But yet' is as a gaoler to bring forth + Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend, + Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, + The good and bad together. He's friends with Caesar; + In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, free. + MESSENGER. Free, madam! No; I made no such report. + He's bound unto Octavia. + CLEOPATRA. For what good turn? + MESSENGER. For the best turn i' th' bed. + CLEOPATRA. I am pale, Charmian. + MESSENGER. Madam, he's married to Octavia. + CLEOPATRA. The most infectious pestilence upon thee! + [Strikes him down] + MESSENGER. Good madam, patience. + CLEOPATRA. What say you? Hence, [Strikes him] + Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes + Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head; + [She hales him up and down] + Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire and stew'd in brine, + Smarting in ling'ring pickle. + MESSENGER. Gracious madam, + I that do bring the news made not the match. + CLEOPATRA. Say 'tis not so, a province I will give thee, + And make thy fortunes proud. The blow thou hadst + Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage; + And I will boot thee with what gift beside + Thy modesty can beg. + MESSENGER. He's married, madam. + CLEOPATRA. Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long. [Draws a knife] + MESSENGER. Nay, then I'll run. + What mean you, madam? I have made no fault. Exit + CHARMIAN. Good madam, keep yourself within yourself: + The man is innocent. + CLEOPATRA. Some innocents scape not the thunderbolt. + Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures + Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again. + Though I am mad, I will not bite him. Call! + CHARMIAN. He is afear'd to come. + CLEOPATRA. I will not hurt him. + These hands do lack nobility, that they strike + A meaner than myself; since I myself + Have given myself the cause. + + Enter the MESSENGER again + + Come hither, sir. + Though it be honest, it is never good + To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message + An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell + Themselves when they be felt. + MESSENGER. I have done my duty. + CLEOPATRA. Is he married? + I cannot hate thee worser than I do + If thou again say 'Yes.' + MESSENGER. He's married, madam. + CLEOPATRA. The gods confound thee! Dost thou hold there still? + MESSENGER. Should I lie, madam? + CLEOPATRA. O, I would thou didst, + So half my Egypt were submerg'd and made + A cistern for scal'd snakes! Go, get thee hence. + Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me + Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married? + MESSENGER. I crave your Highness' pardon. + CLEOPATRA. He is married? + MESSENGER. Take no offence that I would not offend you; + To punish me for what you make me do + Seems much unequal. He's married to Octavia. + CLEOPATRA. O, that his fault should make a knave of thee + That art not what th'art sure of! Get thee hence. + The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome + Are all too dear for me. Lie they upon thy hand, + And be undone by 'em! Exit MESSENGER + CHARMIAN. Good your Highness, patience. + CLEOPATRA. In praising Antony I have disprais'd Caesar. + CHARMIAN. Many times, madam. + CLEOPATRA. I am paid for't now. Lead me from hence, + I faint. O Iras, Charmian! 'Tis no matter. + Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him + Report the feature of Octavia, her years, + Her inclination; let him not leave out + The colour of her hair. Bring me word quickly. + Exit ALEXAS + Let him for ever go- let him not, Charmian- + Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, + The other way's a Mars. [To MARDIAN] + Bid you Alexas + Bring me word how tall she is.- Pity me, Charmian, + But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +Near Misenum + +Flourish. Enter POMPEY and MENAS at one door, with drum and trumpet; +at another, CAESAR, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, ENOBARBUS, MAECENAS, AGRIPPA, +with soldiers marching + + POMPEY. Your hostages I have, so have you mine; + And we shall talk before we fight. + CAESAR. Most meet + That first we come to words; and therefore have we + Our written purposes before us sent; + Which if thou hast considered, let us know + If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword + And carry back to Sicily much tall youth + That else must perish here. + POMPEY. To you all three, + The senators alone of this great world, + Chief factors for the gods: I do not know + Wherefore my father should revengers want, + Having a son and friends, since Julius Caesar, + Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted, + There saw you labouring for him. What was't + That mov'd pale Cassius to conspire? and what + Made the all-honour'd honest Roman, Brutus, + With the arm'd rest, courtiers of beauteous freedom, + To drench the Capitol, but that they would + Have one man but a man? And that is it + Hath made me rig my navy, at whose burden + The anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant + To scourge th' ingratitude that despiteful Rome + Cast on my noble father. + CAESAR. Take your time. + ANTONY. Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy sails; + We'll speak with thee at sea; at land thou know'st + How much we do o'er-count thee. + POMPEY. At land, indeed, + Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house. + But since the cuckoo builds not for himself, + Remain in't as thou mayst. + LEPIDUS. Be pleas'd to tell us- + For this is from the present- how you take + The offers we have sent you. + CAESAR. There's the point. + ANTONY. Which do not be entreated to, but weigh + What it is worth embrac'd. + CAESAR. And what may follow, + To try a larger fortune. + POMPEY. You have made me offer + Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must + Rid all the sea of pirates; then to send + Measures of wheat to Rome; this 'greed upon, + To part with unhack'd edges and bear back + Our targes undinted. + ALL. That's our offer. + POMPEY. Know, then, + I came before you here a man prepar'd + To take this offer; but Mark Antony + Put me to some impatience. Though I lose + The praise of it by telling, you must know, + When Caesar and your brother were at blows, + Your mother came to Sicily and did find + Her welcome friendly. + ANTONY. I have heard it, Pompey, + And am well studied for a liberal thanks + Which I do owe you. + POMPEY. Let me have your hand. + I did not think, sir, to have met you here. + ANTONY. The beds i' th' East are soft; and thanks to you, + That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither; + For I have gained by't. + CAESAR. Since I saw you last + There is a change upon you. + POMPEY. Well, I know not + What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face; + But in my bosom shall she never come + To make my heart her vassal. + LEPIDUS. Well met here. + POMPEY. I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are agreed. + I crave our composition may be written, + And seal'd between us. + CAESAR. That's the next to do. + POMPEY. We'll feast each other ere we part, and let's + Draw lots who shall begin. + ANTONY. That will I, Pompey. + POMPEY. No, Antony, take the lot; + But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery + Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar + Grew fat with feasting there. + ANTONY. You have heard much. + POMPEY. I have fair meanings, sir. + ANTONY. And fair words to them. + POMPEY. Then so much have I heard; + And I have heard Apollodorus carried- + ENOBARBUS. No more of that! He did so. + POMPEY. What, I pray you? + ENOBARBUS. A certain queen to Caesar in a mattress. + POMPEY. I know thee now. How far'st thou, soldier? + ENOBARBUS. Well; + And well am like to do, for I perceive + Four feasts are toward. + POMPEY. Let me shake thy hand. + I never hated thee; I have seen thee fight, + When I have envied thy behaviour. + ENOBARBUS. Sir, + I never lov'd you much; but I ha' prais'd ye + When you have well deserv'd ten times as much + As I have said you did. + POMPEY. Enjoy thy plainness; + It nothing ill becomes thee. + Aboard my galley I invite you all. + Will you lead, lords? + ALL. Show's the way, sir. + POMPEY. Come. Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS and MENAS + MENAS. [Aside] Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have made this + treaty.- You and I have known, sir. + ENOBARBUS. At sea, I think. + MENAS. We have, sir. + ENOBARBUS. You have done well by water. + MENAS. And you by land. + ENOBARBUS. I Will praise any man that will praise me; though it + cannot be denied what I have done by land. + MENAS. Nor what I have done by water. + ENOBARBUS. Yes, something you can deny for your own safety: you + have been a great thief by sea. + MENAS. And you by land. + ENOBARBUS. There I deny my land service. But give me your hand, + Menas; if our eyes had authority, here they might take two + thieves kissing. + MENAS. All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are. + ENOBARBUS. But there is never a fair woman has a true face. + MENAS. No slander: they steal hearts. + ENOBARBUS. We came hither to fight with you. + MENAS. For my part, I am sorry it is turn'd to a drinking. + Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune. + ENOBARBUS. If he do, sure he cannot weep't back again. + MENAS. Y'have said, sir. We look'd not for Mark Antony here. Pray + you, is he married to Cleopatra? + ENOBARBUS. Caesar' sister is call'd Octavia. + MENAS. True, sir; she was the wife of Caius Marcellus. + ENOBARBUS. But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius. + MENAS. Pray ye, sir? + ENOBARBUS. 'Tis true. + MENAS. Then is Caesar and he for ever knit together. + ENOBARBUS. If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would not + prophesy so. + MENAS. I think the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage + than the love of the parties. + ENOBARBUS. I think so too. But you shall find the band that seems + to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of + their amity: Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still conversation. + MENAS. Who would not have his wife so? + ENOBARBUS. Not he that himself is not so; which is Mark Antony. He + will to his Egyptian dish again; then shall the sighs of Octavia + blow the fire up in Caesar, and, as I said before, that which is + the strength of their amity shall prove the immediate author of + their variance. Antony will use his affection where it is; he + married but his occasion here. + MENAS. And thus it may be. Come, sir, will you aboard? I have a + health for you. + ENOBARBUS. I shall take it, sir. We have us'd our throats in Egypt. + MENAS. Come, let's away. Exeunt + +ACT_2|SC_7 + SCENE VII. + On board POMPEY'S galley, off Misenum + + Music plays. Enter two or three SERVANTS with a banquet + + FIRST SERVANT. Here they'll be, man. Some o' their plants are + ill-rooted already; the least wind i' th' world will blow them + down. + SECOND SERVANT. Lepidus is high-colour'd. + FIRST SERVANT. They have made him drink alms-drink. + SECOND SERVANT. As they pinch one another by the disposition, he + cries out 'No more!'; reconciles them to his entreaty and himself + to th' drink. + FIRST SERVANT. But it raises the greater war between him and his + discretion. + SECOND SERVANT. Why, this it is to have a name in great men's + fellowship. I had as lief have a reed that will do me no service + as a partizan I could not heave. + FIRST SERVANT. To be call'd into a huge sphere, and not to be seen + to move in't, are the holes where eyes should be, which pitifully + disaster the cheeks. + + A sennet sounded. Enter CAESAR, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, + POMPEY, AGRIPPA, MAECENAS, ENOBARBUS, MENAS, + with other CAPTAINS + + ANTONY. [To CAESAR] Thus do they, sir: they take the flow o' th' + Nile + By certain scales i' th' pyramid; they know + By th' height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth + Or foison follow. The higher Nilus swells + The more it promises; as it ebbs, the seedsman + Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain, + And shortly comes to harvest. + LEPIDUS. Y'have strange serpents there. + ANTONY. Ay, Lepidus. + LEPIDUS. Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the + operation of your sun; so is your crocodile. + ANTONY. They are so. + POMPEY. Sit- and some wine! A health to Lepidus! + LEPIDUS. I am not so well as I should be, but I'll ne'er out. + ENOBARBUS. Not till you have slept. I fear me you'll be in till + then. + LEPIDUS. Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies' pyramises are + very goodly things. Without contradiction I have heard that. + MENAS. [Aside to POMPEY] Pompey, a word. + POMPEY. [Aside to MENAS] Say in mine ear; what is't? + MENAS. [Aside to POMPEY] Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, + Captain, + And hear me speak a word. + POMPEY. [ Whispers in's ear ] Forbear me till anon- + This wine for Lepidus! + LEPIDUS. What manner o' thing is your crocodile? + ANTONY. It is shap'd, sir, like itself, and it is as broad as it + hath breadth; it is just so high as it is, and moves with it own + organs. It lives by that which nourisheth it, and the elements + once out of it, it transmigrates. + LEPIDUS. What colour is it of? + ANTONY. Of it own colour too. + LEPIDUS. 'Tis a strange serpent. + ANTONY. 'Tis so. And the tears of it are wet. + CAESAR. Will this description satisfy him? + ANTONY. With the health that Pompey gives him, else he is a very + epicure. + POMPEY. [Aside to MENAS] Go, hang, sir, hang! Tell me of that! + Away! + Do as I bid you.- Where's this cup I call'd for? + MENAS. [Aside to POMPEY] If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear + me, + Rise from thy stool. + POMPEY. [Aside to MENAS] I think th'art mad. [Rises and walks + aside] The matter? + MENAS. I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes. + POMPEY. Thou hast serv'd me with much faith. What's else to say?- + Be jolly, lords. + ANTONY. These quicksands, Lepidus, + Keep off them, for you sink. + MENAS. Wilt thou be lord of all the world? + POMPEY. What say'st thou? + MENAS. Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That's twice. + POMPEY. How should that be? + MENAS. But entertain it, + And though you think me poor, I am the man + Will give thee all the world. + POMPEY. Hast thou drunk well? + MENAS. No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup. + Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove; + Whate'er the ocean pales or sky inclips + Is thine, if thou wilt ha't. + POMPEY. Show me which way. + MENAS. These three world-sharers, these competitors, + Are in thy vessel. Let me cut the cable; + And when we are put off, fall to their throats. + All there is thine. + POMPEY. Ah, this thou shouldst have done, + And not have spoke on't. In me 'tis villainy: + In thee't had been good service. Thou must know + 'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour: + Mine honour, it. Repent that e'er thy tongue + Hath so betray'd thine act. Being done unknown, + I should have found it afterwards well done, + But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink. + MENAS. [Aside] For this, + I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more. + Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offer'd, + Shall never find it more. + POMPEY. This health to Lepidus! + ANTONY. Bear him ashore. I'll pledge it for him, Pompey. + ENOBARBUS. Here's to thee, Menas! + MENAS. Enobarbus, welcome! + POMPEY. Fill till the cup be hid. + ENOBARBUS. There's a strong fellow, Menas. + [Pointing to the servant who carries off LEPIDUS] + MENAS. Why? + ENOBARBUS. 'A bears the third part of the world, man; see'st not? + MENAS. The third part, then, is drunk. Would it were all, + That it might go on wheels! + ENOBARBUS. Drink thou; increase the reels. + MENAS. Come. + POMPEY. This is not yet an Alexandrian feast. + ANTONY. It ripens towards it. Strike the vessels, ho! + Here's to Caesar! + CAESAR. I could well forbear't. + It's monstrous labour when I wash my brain + And it grows fouler. + ANTONY. Be a child o' th' time. + CAESAR. Possess it, I'll make answer. + But I had rather fast from all four days + Than drink so much in one. + ENOBARBUS. [To ANTONY] Ha, my brave emperor! + Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals + And celebrate our drink? + POMPEY. Let's ha't, good soldier. + ANTONY. Come, let's all take hands, + Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense + In soft and delicate Lethe. + ENOBARBUS. All take hands. + Make battery to our ears with the loud music, + The while I'll place you; then the boy shall sing; + The holding every man shall bear as loud + As his strong sides can volley. + [Music plays. ENOBARBUS places them hand in hand] + + THE SONG + Come, thou monarch of the vine, + Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne! + In thy fats our cares be drown'd, + With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd. + Cup us till the world go round, + Cup us till the world go round! + + CAESAR. What would you more? Pompey, good night. Good brother, + Let me request you off; our graver business + Frowns at this levity. Gentle lords, let's part; + You see we have burnt our cheeks. Strong Enobarb + Is weaker than the wine, and mine own tongue + Splits what it speaks. The wild disguise hath almost + Antick'd us all. What needs more words? Good night. + Good Antony, your hand. + POMPEY. I'll try you on the shore. + ANTONY. And shall, sir. Give's your hand. + POMPEY. O Antony, + You have my father's house- but what? We are friends. + Come, down into the boat. + ENOBARBUS. Take heed you fall not. + Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS and MENAS + Menas, I'll not on shore. + MENAS. No, to my cabin. + These drums! these trumpets, flutes! what! + Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell + To these great fellows. Sound and be hang'd, sound out! + [Sound a flourish, with drums] + ENOBARBUS. Hoo! says 'a. There's my cap. + MENAS. Hoo! Noble Captain, come. Exeunt +ACT_3|SC_1 + ACT III. SCENE I. + A plain in Syria + + Enter VENTIDIUS, as it were in triumph, with SILIUS + and other Romans, OFFICERS and soldiers; the dead body + of PACORUS borne before him + + VENTIDIUS. Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck, and now + Pleas'd fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death + Make me revenger. Bear the King's son's body + Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes, + Pays this for Marcus Crassus. + SILIUS. Noble Ventidius, + Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm + The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through Media, + Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither + The routed fly. So thy grand captain, Antony, + Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and + Put garlands on thy head. + VENTIDIUS. O Silius, Silius, + I have done enough. A lower place, note well, + May make too great an act; for learn this, Silius: + Better to leave undone than by our deed + Acquire too high a fame when him we serve's away. + Caesar and Antony have ever won + More in their officer, than person. Sossius, + One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant, + For quick accumulation of renown, + Which he achiev'd by th' minute, lost his favour. + Who does i' th' wars more than his captain can + Becomes his captain's captain; and ambition, + The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss + Than gain which darkens him. + I could do more to do Antonius good, + But 'twould offend him; and in his offence + Should my performance perish. + SILIUS. Thou hast, Ventidius, that + Without the which a soldier and his sword + Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony? + VENTIDIUS. I'll humbly signify what in his name, + That magical word of war, we have effected; + How, with his banners, and his well-paid ranks, + The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia + We have jaded out o' th' field. + SILIUS. Where is he now? + VENTIDIUS. He purposeth to Athens; whither, with what haste + The weight we must convey with's will permit, + We shall appear before him.- On, there; pass along. + Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_2 + SCENE II. Rome. CAESAR'S house + + Enter AGRIPPA at one door, ENOBARBUS at another + + AGRIPPA. What, are the brothers parted? + ENOBARBUS. They have dispatch'd with Pompey; he is gone; + The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps + To part from Rome; Caesar is sad; and Lepidus, + Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled + With the green sickness. + AGRIPPA. 'Tis a noble Lepidus. + ENOBARBUS. A very fine one. O, how he loves Caesar! + AGRIPPA. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony! + ENOBARBUS. Caesar? Why he's the Jupiter of men. + AGRIPPA. What's Antony? The god of Jupiter. + ENOBARBUS. Spake you of Caesar? How! the nonpareil! + AGRIPPA. O, Antony! O thou Arabian bird! + ENOBARBUS. Would you praise Caesar, say 'Caesar'- go no further. + AGRIPPA. Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises. + ENOBARBUS. But he loves Caesar best. Yet he loves Antony. + Hoo! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets, cannot + Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number- hoo!- + His love to Antony. But as for Caesar, + Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder. + AGRIPPA. Both he loves. + ENOBARBUS. They are his shards, and he their beetle. [Trumpets + within] So- + This is to horse. Adieu, noble Agrippa. + AGRIPPA. Good fortune, worthy soldier, and farewell. + + Enter CAESAR, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, and OCTAVIA + + ANTONY. No further, sir. + CAESAR. You take from me a great part of myself; + Use me well in't. Sister, prove such a wife + As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest band + Shall pass on thy approof. Most noble Antony, + Let not the piece of virtue which is set + Betwixt us as the cement of our love + To keep it builded be the ram to batter + The fortress of it; for better might we + Have lov'd without this mean, if on both parts + This be not cherish'd. + ANTONY. Make me not offended + In your distrust. + CAESAR. I have said. + ANTONY. You shall not find, + Though you be therein curious, the least cause + For what you seem to fear. So the gods keep you, + And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends! + We will here part. + CAESAR. Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well. + The elements be kind to thee and make + Thy spirits all of comfort! Fare thee well. + OCTAVIA. My noble brother! + ANTONY. The April's in her eyes. It is love's spring, + And these the showers to bring it on. Be cheerful. + OCTAVIA. Sir, look well to my husband's house; and- + CAESAR. What, Octavia? + OCTAVIA. I'll tell you in your ear. + ANTONY. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can + Her heart inform her tongue- the swan's down feather, + That stands upon the swell at the full of tide, + And neither way inclines. + ENOBARBUS. [Aside to AGRIPPA] Will Caesar weep? + AGRIPPA. [Aside to ENOBARBUS] He has a cloud in's face. + ENOBARBUS. [Aside to AGRIPPA] He were the worse for that, were he a + horse; + So is he, being a man. + AGRIPPA. [Aside to ENOBARBUS] Why, Enobarbus, + When Antony found Julius Caesar dead, + He cried almost to roaring; and he wept + When at Philippi he found Brutus slain. + ENOBARBUS. [Aside to AGRIPPA] That year, indeed, he was troubled + with a rheum; + What willingly he did confound he wail'd, + Believe't- till I weep too. + CAESAR. No, sweet Octavia, + You shall hear from me still; the time shall not + Out-go my thinking on you. + ANTONY. Come, sir, come; + I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love. + Look, here I have you; thus I let you go, + And give you to the gods. + CAESAR. Adieu; be happy! + LEPIDUS. Let all the number of the stars give light + To thy fair way! + CAESAR. Farewell, farewell! [Kisses OCTAVIA] + ANTONY. Farewell! Trumpets sound. Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_3 + SCENE III. + Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace + + Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS + + CLEOPATRA. Where is the fellow? + ALEXAS. Half afeard to come. + CLEOPATRA. Go to, go to. + + Enter the MESSENGER as before + + Come hither, sir. + ALEXAS. Good Majesty, + Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you + But when you are well pleas'd. + CLEOPATRA. That Herod's head + I'll have. But how, when Antony is gone, + Through whom I might command it? Come thou near. + MESSENGER. Most gracious Majesty! + CLEOPATRA. Didst thou behold Octavia? + MESSENGER. Ay, dread Queen. + CLEOPATRA. Where? + MESSENGER. Madam, in Rome + I look'd her in the face, and saw her led + Between her brother and Mark Antony. + CLEOPATRA. Is she as tall as me? + MESSENGER. She is not, madam. + CLEOPATRA. Didst hear her speak? Is she shrill-tongu'd or low? + MESSENGER. Madam, I heard her speak: she is low-voic'd. + CLEOPATRA. That's not so good. He cannot like her long. + CHARMIAN. Like her? O Isis! 'tis impossible. + CLEOPATRA. I think so, Charmian. Dull of tongue and dwarfish! + What majesty is in her gait? Remember, + If e'er thou look'dst on majesty. + MESSENGER. She creeps. + Her motion and her station are as one; + She shows a body rather than a life, + A statue than a breather. + CLEOPATRA. Is this certain? + MESSENGER. Or I have no observance. + CHARMIAN. Three in Egypt + Cannot make better note. + CLEOPATRA. He's very knowing; + I do perceive't. There's nothing in her yet. + The fellow has good judgment. + CHARMIAN. Excellent. + CLEOPATRA. Guess at her years, I prithee. + MESSENGER. Madam, + She was a widow. + CLEOPATRA. Widow? Charmian, hark! + MESSENGER. And I do think she's thirty. + CLEOPATRA. Bear'st thou her face in mind? Is't long or round? + MESSENGER. Round even to faultiness. + CLEOPATRA. For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so. + Her hair, what colour? + MESSENGER. Brown, madam; and her forehead + As low as she would wish it. + CLEOPATRA. There's gold for thee. + Thou must not take my former sharpness ill. + I will employ thee back again; I find thee + Most fit for business. Go make thee ready; + Our letters are prepar'd. Exeunt MESSENGER + CHARMIAN. A proper man. + CLEOPATRA. Indeed, he is so. I repent me much + That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him, + This creature's no such thing. + CHARMIAN. Nothing, madam. + CLEOPATRA. The man hath seen some majesty, and should know. + CHARMIAN. Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend, + And serving you so long! + CLEOPATRA. I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian. + But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me + Where I will write. All may be well enough. + CHARMIAN. I warrant you, madam. Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_4 + SCENE IV. + Athens. ANTONY'S house + + Enter ANTONY and OCTAVIA + + ANTONY. Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that- + That were excusable, that and thousands more + Of semblable import- but he hath wag'd + New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his will, and read it + To public ear; + Spoke scandy of me; when perforce he could not + But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly + He vented them, most narrow measure lent me; + When the best hint was given him, he not took't, + Or did it from his teeth. + OCTAVIA. O my good lord, + Believe not all; or if you must believe, + Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady, + If this division chance, ne'er stood between, + Praying for both parts. + The good gods will mock me presently + When I shall pray 'O, bless my lord and husband!' + Undo that prayer by crying out as loud + 'O, bless my brother!' Husband win, win brother, + Prays, and destroys the prayer; no mid-way + 'Twixt these extremes at all. + ANTONY. Gentle Octavia, + Let your best love draw to that point which seeks + Best to preserve it. If I lose mine honour, + I lose myself; better I were not yours + Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested, + Yourself shall go between's. The meantime, lady, + I'll raise the preparation of a war + Shall stain your brother. Make your soonest haste; + So your desires are yours. + OCTAVIA. Thanks to my lord. + The Jove of power make me, most weak, most weak, + Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain would be + As if the world should cleave, and that slain men + Should solder up the rift. + ANTONY. When it appears to you where this begins, + Turn your displeasure that way, for our faults + Can never be so equal that your love + Can equally move with them. Provide your going; + Choose your own company, and command what cost + Your heart has mind to. Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_5 + SCENE V. + Athens. ANTONY'S house + + Enter ENOBARBUS and EROS, meeting + + ENOBARBUS. How now, friend Eros! + EROS. There's strange news come, sir. + ENOBARBUS. What, man? + EROS. Caesar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey. + ENOBARBUS. This is old. What is the success? + EROS. Caesar, having made use of him in the wars 'gainst Pompey, + presently denied him rivality, would not let him partake in the + glory of the action; and not resting here, accuses him of letters + he had formerly wrote to Pompey; upon his own appeal, seizes him. + So the poor third is up, till death enlarge his confine. + ENOBARBUS. Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps- no more; + And throw between them all the food thou hast, + They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony? + EROS. He's walking in the garden- thus, and spurns + The rush that lies before him; cries 'Fool Lepidus!' + And threats the throat of that his officer + That murd'red Pompey. + ENOBARBUS. Our great navy's rigg'd. + EROS. For Italy and Caesar. More, Domitius: + My lord desires you presently; my news + I might have told hereafter. + ENOBARBUS. 'Twill be naught; + But let it be. Bring me to Antony. + EROS. Come, sir. Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_6 + SCENE VI. + Rome. CAESAR'S house + + Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MAECENAS + + CAESAR. Contemning Rome, he has done all this and more + In Alexandria. Here's the manner of't: + I' th' market-place, on a tribunal silver'd, + Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold + Were publicly enthron'd; at the feet sat + Caesarion, whom they call my father's son, + And all the unlawful issue that their lust + Since then hath made between them. Unto her + He gave the stablishment of Egypt; made her + Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, + Absolute queen. + MAECENAS. This in the public eye? + CAESAR. I' th' common show-place, where they exercise. + His sons he there proclaim'd the kings of kings: + Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia, + He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd + Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia. She + In th' habiliments of the goddess Isis + That day appear'd; and oft before gave audience, + As 'tis reported, so. + MAECENAS. Let Rome be thus + Inform'd. + AGRIPPA. Who, queasy with his insolence + Already, will their good thoughts call from him. + CAESAR. The people knows it, and have now receiv'd + His accusations. + AGRIPPA. Who does he accuse? + CAESAR. Caesar; and that, having in Sicily + Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated him + His part o' th' isle. Then does he say he lent me + Some shipping, unrestor'd. Lastly, he frets + That Lepidus of the triumvirate + Should be depos'd; and, being, that we detain + All his revenue. + AGRIPPA. Sir, this should be answer'd. + CAESAR. 'Tis done already, and messenger gone. + I have told him Lepidus was grown too cruel, + That he his high authority abus'd, + And did deserve his change. For what I have conquer'd + I grant him part; but then, in his Armenia + And other of his conquer'd kingdoms, + Demand the like. + MAECENAS. He'll never yield to that. + CAESAR. Nor must not then be yielded to in this. + + Enter OCTAVIA, with her train + + OCTAVIA. Hail, Caesar, and my lord! hail, most dear Caesar! + CAESAR. That ever I should call thee cast-away! + OCTAVIA. You have not call'd me so, nor have you cause. + CAESAR. Why have you stol'n upon us thus? You come not + Like Caesar's sister. The wife of Antony + Should have an army for an usher, and + The neighs of horse to tell of her approach + Long ere she did appear. The trees by th' way + Should have borne men, and expectation fainted, + Longing for what it had not. Nay, the dust + Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, + Rais'd by your populous troops. But you are come + A market-maid to Rome, and have prevented + The ostentation of our love, which left unshown + Is often left unlov'd. We should have met you + By sea and land, supplying every stage + With an augmented greeting. + OCTAVIA. Good my lord, + To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did it + On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony, + Hearing that you prepar'd for war, acquainted + My grieved ear withal; whereon I begg'd + His pardon for return. + CAESAR. Which soon he granted, + Being an obstruct 'tween his lust and him. + OCTAVIA. Do not say so, my lord. + CAESAR. I have eyes upon him, + And his affairs come to me on the wind. + Where is he now? + OCTAVIA. My lord, in Athens. + CAESAR. No, my most wronged sister: Cleopatra + Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire + Up to a whore, who now are levying + The kings o' th' earth for war. He hath assembled + Bocchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus + Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king + Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas; + King Manchus of Arabia; King of Pont; + Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, king + Of Comagene; Polemon and Amyntas, + The kings of Mede and Lycaonia, with + More larger list of sceptres. + OCTAVIA. Ay me most wretched, + That have my heart parted betwixt two friends, + That does afflict each other! + CAESAR. Welcome hither. + Your letters did withhold our breaking forth, + Till we perceiv'd both how you were wrong led + And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart; + Be you not troubled with the time, which drives + O'er your content these strong necessities, + But let determin'd things to destiny + Hold unbewail'd their way. Welcome to Rome; + Nothing more dear to me. You are abus'd + Beyond the mark of thought, and the high gods, + To do you justice, make their ministers + Of us and those that love you. Best of comfort, + And ever welcome to us. + AGRIPPA. Welcome, lady. + MAECENAS. Welcome, dear madam. + Each heart in Rome does love and pity you; + Only th' adulterous Antony, most large + In his abominations, turns you off, + And gives his potent regiment to a trull + That noises it against us. + OCTAVIA. Is it so, sir? + CAESAR. Most certain. Sister, welcome. Pray you + Be ever known to patience. My dear'st sister! Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_7 + SCENE VII. + ANTONY'S camp near Actium + + Enter CLEOPATRA and ENOBARBUS + + CLEOPATRA. I will be even with thee, doubt it not. + ENOBARBUS. But why, why, + CLEOPATRA. Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars, + And say'st it is not fit. + ENOBARBUS. Well, is it, is it? + CLEOPATRA. Is't not denounc'd against us? Why should not we + Be there in person? + ENOBARBUS. [Aside] Well, I could reply: + If we should serve with horse and mares together + The horse were merely lost; the mares would bear + A soldier and his horse. + CLEOPATRA. What is't you say? + ENOBARBUS. Your presence needs must puzzle Antony; + Take from his heart, take from his brain, from's time, + What should not then be spar'd. He is already + Traduc'd for levity; and 'tis said in Rome + That Photinus an eunuch and your maids + Manage this war. + CLEOPATRA. Sink Rome, and their tongues rot + That speak against us! A charge we bear i' th' war, + And, as the president of my kingdom, will + Appear there for a man. Speak not against it; + I will not stay behind. + + Enter ANTONY and CANIDIUS + + ENOBARBUS. Nay, I have done. + Here comes the Emperor. + ANTONY. Is it not strange, Canidius, + That from Tarentum and Brundusium + He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea, + And take in Toryne?- You have heard on't, sweet? + CLEOPATRA. Celerity is never more admir'd + Than by the negligent. + ANTONY. A good rebuke, + Which might have well becom'd the best of men + To taunt at slackness. Canidius, we + Will fight with him by sea. + CLEOPATRA. By sea! What else? + CANIDIUS. Why will my lord do so? + ANTONY. For that he dares us to't. + ENOBARBUS. So hath my lord dar'd him to single fight. + CANIDIUS. Ay, and to wage this battle at Pharsalia, + Where Caesar fought with Pompey. But these offers, + Which serve not for his vantage, he shakes off; + And so should you. + ENOBARBUS. Your ships are not well mann'd; + Your mariners are muleteers, reapers, people + Ingross'd by swift impress. In Caesar's fleet + Are those that often have 'gainst Pompey fought; + Their ships are yare; yours heavy. No disgrace + Shall fall you for refusing him at sea, + Being prepar'd for land. + ANTONY. By sea, by sea. + ENOBARBUS. Most worthy sir, you therein throw away + The absolute soldiership you have by land; + Distract your army, which doth most consist + Of war-mark'd footmen; leave unexecuted + Your own renowned knowledge; quite forgo + The way which promises assurance; and + Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard + From firm security. + ANTONY. I'll fight at sea. + CLEOPATRA. I have sixty sails, Caesar none better. + ANTONY. Our overplus of shipping will we burn, + And, with the rest full-mann'd, from th' head of Actium + Beat th' approaching Caesar. But if we fail, + We then can do't at land. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + Thy business? + MESSENGER. The news is true, my lord: he is descried; + Caesar has taken Toryne. + ANTONY. Can he be there in person? 'Tis impossible- + Strange that his power should be. Canidius, + Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold by land, + And our twelve thousand horse. We'll to our ship. + Away, my Thetis! + + Enter a SOLDIER + + How now, worthy soldier? + SOLDIER. O noble Emperor, do not fight by sea; + Trust not to rotten planks. Do you misdoubt + This sword and these my wounds? Let th' Egyptians + And the Phoenicians go a-ducking; we + Have us'd to conquer standing on the earth + And fighting foot to foot. + ANTONY. Well, well- away. + Exeunt ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, and ENOBARBUS + SOLDIER. By Hercules, I think I am i' th' right. + CANIDIUS. Soldier, thou art; but his whole action grows + Not in the power on't. So our leader's led, + And we are women's men. + SOLDIER. You keep by land + The legions and the horse whole, do you not? + CANIDIUS. Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius, + Publicola, and Caelius are for sea; + But we keep whole by land. This speed of Caesar's + Carries beyond belief. + SOLDIER. While he was yet in Rome, + His power went out in such distractions as + Beguil'd all spies. + CANIDIUS. Who's his lieutenant, hear you? + SOLDIER. They say one Taurus. + CANIDIUS. Well I know the man. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. The Emperor calls Canidius. + CANIDIUS. With news the time's with labour and throes forth + Each minute some. Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_8 + SCENE VIII. + A plain near Actium + + Enter CAESAR, with his army, marching + + CAESAR. Taurus! + TAURUS. My lord? + CAESAR. Strike not by land; keep whole; provoke not battle + Till we have done at sea. Do not exceed + The prescript of this scroll. Our fortune lies + Upon this jump. Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_9 + SCENE IX. + Another part of the plain + + Enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUS + + ANTONY. Set we our squadrons on yon side o' th' hill, + In eye of Caesar's battle; from which place + We may the number of the ships behold, + And so proceed accordingly. Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_10 + SCENE X. + Another part of the plain + + CANIDIUS marcheth with his land army one way + over the stage, and TAURUS, the Lieutenant of + CAESAR, the other way. After their going in is heard + the noise of a sea-fight + + Alarum. Enter ENOBARBUS + + ENOBARBUS. Naught, naught, all naught! I can behold no longer. + Th' Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral, + With all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder. + To see't mine eyes are blasted. + + Enter SCARUS + + SCARUS. Gods and goddesses, + All the whole synod of them! + ENOBARBUS. What's thy passion? + SCARUS. The greater cantle of the world is lost + With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away + Kingdoms and provinces. + ENOBARBUS. How appears the fight? + SCARUS. On our side like the token'd pestilence, + Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt- + Whom leprosy o'ertake!- i' th' midst o' th' fight, + When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd, + Both as the same, or rather ours the elder- + The breese upon her, like a cow in June- + Hoists sails and flies. + ENOBARBUS. That I beheld; + Mine eyes did sicken at the sight and could not + Endure a further view. + SCARUS. She once being loof'd, + The noble ruin of her magic, Antony, + Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard, + Leaving the fight in height, flies after her. + I never saw an action of such shame; + Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before + Did violate so itself. + ENOBARBUS. Alack, alack! + + Enter CANIDIUS + + CANIDIUS. Our fortune on the sea is out of breath, + And sinks most lamentably. Had our general + Been what he knew himself, it had gone well. + O, he has given example for our flight + Most grossly by his own! + ENOBARBUS. Ay, are you thereabouts? + Why then, good night indeed. + CANIDIUS. Toward Peloponnesus are they fled. + SCARUS. 'Tis easy to't; and there I will attend + What further comes. + CANIDIUS. To Caesar will I render + My legions and my horse; six kings already + Show me the way of yielding. + ENOBARBUS. I'll yet follow + The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason + Sits in the wind against me. Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_11 + SCENE XI. + Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace + + Enter ANTONY With attendants + + ANTONY. Hark! the land bids me tread no more upon't; + It is asham'd to bear me. Friends, come hither. + I am so lated in the world that I + Have lost my way for ever. I have a ship + Laden with gold; take that; divide it. Fly, + And make your peace with Caesar. + ALL. Fly? Not we! + ANTONY. I have fled myself, and have instructed cowards + To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone; + I have myself resolv'd upon a course + Which has no need of you; be gone. + My treasure's in the harbour, take it. O, + I follow'd that I blush to look upon. + My very hairs do mutiny; for the white + Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them + For fear and doting. Friends, be gone; you shall + Have letters from me to some friends that will + Sweep your way for you. Pray you look not sad, + Nor make replies of loathness; take the hint + Which my despair proclaims. Let that be left + Which leaves itself. To the sea-side straight way. + I will possess you of that ship and treasure. + Leave me, I pray, a little; pray you now; + Nay, do so, for indeed I have lost command; + Therefore I pray you. I'll see you by and by. [Sits down] + + Enter CLEOPATRA, led by CHARMIAN and IRAS, + EROS following + + EROS. Nay, gentle madam, to him! Comfort him. + IRAS. Do, most dear Queen. + CHARMIAN. Do? Why, what else? + CLEOPATRA. Let me sit down. O Juno! + ANTONY. No, no, no, no, no. + EROS. See you here, sir? + ANTONY. O, fie, fie, fie! + CHARMIAN. Madam! + IRAS. Madam, O good Empress! + EROS. Sir, sir! + ANTONY. Yes, my lord, yes. He at Philippi kept + His sword e'en like a dancer, while I struck + The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I + That the mad Brutus ended; he alone + Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practice had + In the brave squares of war. Yet now- no matter. + CLEOPATRA. Ah, stand by! + EROS. The Queen, my lord, the Queen! + IRAS. Go to him, madam, speak to him. + He is unqualitied with very shame. + CLEOPATRA. Well then, sustain me. O! + EROS. Most noble sir, arise; the Queen approaches. + Her head's declin'd, and death will seize her but + Your comfort makes the rescue. + ANTONY. I have offended reputation- + A most unnoble swerving. + EROS. Sir, the Queen. + ANTONY. O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See + How I convey my shame out of thine eyes + By looking back what I have left behind + 'Stroy'd in dishonour. + CLEOPATRA. O my lord, my lord, + Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought + You would have followed. + ANTONY. Egypt, thou knew'st too well + My heart was to thy rudder tied by th' strings, + And thou shouldst tow me after. O'er my spirit + Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that + Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods + Command me. + CLEOPATRA. O, my pardon! + ANTONY. Now I must + To the young man send humble treaties, dodge + And palter in the shifts of lowness, who + With half the bulk o' th' world play'd as I pleas'd, + Making and marring fortunes. You did know + How much you were my conqueror, and that + My sword, made weak by my affection, would + Obey it on all cause. + CLEOPATRA. Pardon, pardon! + ANTONY. Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates + All that is won and lost. Give me a kiss; + Even this repays me. + We sent our schoolmaster; is 'a come back? + Love, I am full of lead. Some wine, + Within there, and our viands! Fortune knows + We scorn her most when most she offers blows. Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_12 + SCENE XII. + CAESAR'S camp in Egypt + + Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, THYREUS, with others + + CAESAR. Let him appear that's come from Antony. + Know you him? + DOLABELLA. Caesar, 'tis his schoolmaster: + An argument that he is pluck'd, when hither + He sends so poor a pinion of his wing, + Which had superfluous kings for messengers + Not many moons gone by. + + Enter EUPHRONIUS, Ambassador from ANTONY + + CAESAR. Approach, and speak. + EUPHRONIUS. Such as I am, I come from Antony. + I was of late as petty to his ends + As is the morn-dew on the myrtle leaf + To his grand sea. + CAESAR. Be't so. Declare thine office. + EUPHRONIUS. Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and + Requires to live in Egypt; which not granted, + He lessens his requests and to thee sues + To let him breathe between the heavens and earth, + A private man in Athens. This for him. + Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness, + Submits her to thy might, and of thee craves + The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs, + Now hazarded to thy grace. + CAESAR. For Antony, + I have no ears to his request. The Queen + Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she + From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend, + Or take his life there. This if she perform, + She shall not sue unheard. So to them both. + EUPHRONIUS. Fortune pursue thee! + CAESAR. Bring him through the bands. Exit EUPHRONIUS + [To THYREUS] To try thy eloquence, now 'tis time. Dispatch; + From Antony win Cleopatra. Promise, + And in our name, what she requires; add more, + From thine invention, offers. Women are not + In their best fortunes strong; but want will perjure + The ne'er-touch'd vestal. Try thy cunning, Thyreus; + Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we + Will answer as a law. + THYREUS. Caesar, I go. + CAESAR. Observe how Antony becomes his flaw, + And what thou think'st his very action speaks + In every power that moves. + THYREUS. Caesar, I shall. Exeunt + +ACT_3|SC_13 + SCENE XIII. + Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace + + Enter CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, and IRAS + + CLEOPATRA. What shall we do, Enobarbus? + ENOBARBUS. Think, and die. + CLEOPATRA. Is Antony or we in fault for this? + ENOBARBUS. Antony only, that would make his will + Lord of his reason. What though you fled + From that great face of war, whose several ranges + Frighted each other? Why should he follow? + The itch of his affection should not then + Have nick'd his captainship, at such a point, + When half to half the world oppos'd, he being + The mered question. 'Twas a shame no less + Than was his loss, to course your flying flags + And leave his navy gazing. + CLEOPATRA. Prithee, peace. + + Enter EUPHRONIUS, the Ambassador; with ANTONY + + ANTONY. Is that his answer? + EUPHRONIUS. Ay, my lord. + ANTONY. The Queen shall then have courtesy, so she + Will yield us up. + EUPHRONIUS. He says so. + ANTONY. Let her know't. + To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head, + And he will fill thy wishes to the brim + With principalities. + CLEOPATRA. That head, my lord? + ANTONY. To him again. Tell him he wears the rose + Of youth upon him; from which the world should note + Something particular. His coin, ships, legions, + May be a coward's whose ministers would prevail + Under the service of a child as soon + As i' th' command of Caesar. I dare him therefore + To lay his gay comparisons apart, + And answer me declin'd, sword against sword, + Ourselves alone. I'll write it. Follow me. + Exeunt ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS + EUPHRONIUS. [Aside] Yes, like enough high-battled Caesar will + Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to th' show + Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are + A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward + Do draw the inward quality after them, + To suffer all alike. That he should dream, + Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will + Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdu'd + His judgment too. + + Enter a SERVANT + + SERVANT. A messenger from Caesar. + CLEOPATRA. What, no more ceremony? See, my women! + Against the blown rose may they stop their nose + That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, sir. Exit SERVANT + ENOBARBUS. [Aside] Mine honesty and I begin to square. + The loyalty well held to fools does make + Our faith mere folly. Yet he that can endure + To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord + Does conquer him that did his master conquer, + And earns a place i' th' story. + + Enter THYREUS + + CLEOPATRA. Caesar's will? + THYREUS. Hear it apart. + CLEOPATRA. None but friends: say boldly. + THYREUS. So, haply, are they friends to Antony. + ENOBARBUS. He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has, + Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master + Will leap to be his friend. For us, you know + Whose he is we are, and that is Caesar's. + THYREUS. So. + Thus then, thou most renown'd: Caesar entreats + Not to consider in what case thou stand'st + Further than he is Caesar. + CLEOPATRA. Go on. Right royal! + THYREUS. He knows that you embrace not Antony + As you did love, but as you fear'd him. + CLEOPATRA. O! + THYREUS. The scars upon your honour, therefore, he + Does pity, as constrained blemishes, + Not as deserv'd. + CLEOPATRA. He is a god, and knows + What is most right. Mine honour was not yielded, + But conquer'd merely. + ENOBARBUS. [Aside] To be sure of that, + I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky + That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for + Thy dearest quit thee. Exit + THYREUS. Shall I say to Caesar + What you require of him? For he partly begs + To be desir'd to give. It much would please him + That of his fortunes you should make a staff + To lean upon. But it would warm his spirits + To hear from me you had left Antony, + And put yourself under his shroud, + The universal landlord. + CLEOPATRA. What's your name? + THYREUS. My name is Thyreus. + CLEOPATRA. Most kind messenger, + Say to great Caesar this: in deputation + I kiss his conquring hand. Tell him I am prompt + To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel. + Tell him from his all-obeying breath I hear + The doom of Egypt. + THYREUS. 'Tis your noblest course. + Wisdom and fortune combating together, + If that the former dare but what it can, + No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay + My duty on your hand. + CLEOPATRA. Your Caesar's father oft, + When he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in, + Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place, + As it rain'd kisses. + + Re-enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUS + + ANTONY. Favours, by Jove that thunders! + What art thou, fellow? + THYREUS. One that but performs + The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest + To have command obey'd. + ENOBARBUS. [Aside] You will be whipt. + ANTONY. Approach there.- Ah, you kite!- Now, gods and devils! + Authority melts from me. Of late, when I cried 'Ho!' + Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth + And cry 'Your will?' Have you no ears? I am + Antony yet. + + Enter servants + + Take hence this Jack and whip him. + ENOBARBUS. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp + Than with an old one dying. + ANTONY. Moon and stars! + Whip him. Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries + That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them + So saucy with the hand of she here- what's her name + Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows, + Till like a boy you see him cringe his face, + And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence. + THYMUS. Mark Antony- + ANTONY. Tug him away. Being whipt, + Bring him again: the Jack of Caesar's shall + Bear us an errand to him. Exeunt servants with THYREUS + You were half blasted ere I knew you. Ha! + Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome, + Forborne the getting of a lawful race, + And by a gem of women, to be abus'd + By one that looks on feeders? + CLEOPATRA. Good my lord- + ANTONY. You have been a boggler ever. + But when we in our viciousness grow hard- + O misery on't!- the wise gods seel our eyes, + In our own filth drop our clear judgments, make us + Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut + To our confusion. + CLEOPATRA. O, is't come to this? + ANTONY. I found you as a morsel cold upon + Dead Caesar's trencher. Nay, you were a fragment + Of Cneius Pompey's, besides what hotter hours, + Unregist'red in vulgar fame, you have + Luxuriously pick'd out; for I am sure, + Though you can guess what temperance should be, + You know not what it is. + CLEOPATRA. Wherefore is this? + ANTONY. To let a fellow that will take rewards, + And say 'God quit you!' be familiar with + My playfellow, your hand, this kingly seal + And plighter of high hearts! O that I were + Upon the hill of Basan to outroar + The horned herd! For I have savage cause, + And to proclaim it civilly were like + A halter'd neck which does the hangman thank + For being yare about him. + + Re-enter a SERVANT with THYREUS + + Is he whipt? + SERVANT. Soundly, my lord. + ANTONY. Cried he? and begg'd 'a pardon? + SERVANT. He did ask favour. + ANTONY. If that thy father live, let him repent + Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry + To follow Caesar in his triumph, since + Thou hast been whipt for following him. Henceforth + The white hand of a lady fever thee! + Shake thou to look on't. Get thee back to Caesar; + Tell him thy entertainment; look thou say + He makes me angry with him; for he seems + Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am, + Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry; + And at this time most easy 'tis to do't, + When my good stars, that were my former guides, + Have empty left their orbs and shot their fires + Into th' abysm of hell. If he mislike + My speech and what is done, tell him he has + Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom + He may at pleasure whip or hang or torture, + As he shall like, to quit me. Urge it thou. + Hence with thy stripes, be gone. Exit THYREUS + CLEOPATRA. Have you done yet? + ANTONY. Alack, our terrene moon + Is now eclips'd, and it portends alone + The fall of Antony. + CLEOPATRA. I must stay his time. + ANTONY. To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes + With one that ties his points? + CLEOPATRA. Not know me yet? + ANTONY. Cold-hearted toward me? + CLEOPATRA. Ah, dear, if I be so, + From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, + And poison it in the source, and the first stone + Drop in my neck; as it determines, so + Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite! + Till by degrees the memory of my womb, + Together with my brave Egyptians all, + By the discandying of this pelleted storm, + Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile + Have buried them for prey. + ANTONY. I am satisfied. + Caesar sits down in Alexandria, where + I will oppose his fate. Our force by land + Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy to + Have knit again, and fleet, threat'ning most sea-like. + Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady? + If from the field I shall return once more + To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood. + I and my sword will earn our chronicle. + There's hope in't yet. + CLEOPATRA. That's my brave lord! + ANTONY. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd, + And fight maliciously. For when mine hours + Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives + Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth, + And send to darkness all that stop me. Come, + Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me + All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more; + Let's mock the midnight bell. + CLEOPATRA. It is my birthday. + I had thought t'have held it poor; but since my lord + Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra. + ANTONY. We will yet do well. + CLEOPATRA. Call all his noble captains to my lord. + ANTONY. Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force + The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my queen, + There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight + I'll make death love me; for I will contend + Even with his pestilent scythe. Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS + ENOBARBUS. Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious + Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood + The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still + A diminution in our captain's brain + Restores his heart. When valour preys on reason, + It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek + Some way to leave him. Exit + +ACT_4|SC_1 + ACT IV. SCENE I. + CAESAR'S camp before Alexandria + + Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MAECENAS, with his army; + CAESAR reading a letter + + CAESAR. He calls me boy, and chides as he had power + To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger + He hath whipt with rods; dares me to personal combat, + Caesar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know + I have many other ways to die, meantime + Laugh at his challenge. + MAECENAS. Caesar must think + When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted + Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now + Make boot of his distraction. Never anger + Made good guard for itself. + CAESAR. Let our best heads + Know that to-morrow the last of many battles + We mean to fight. Within our files there are + Of those that serv'd Mark Antony but late + Enough to fetch him in. See it done; + And feast the army; we have store to do't, + And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony! Exeunt + +ACT_4|SC_2 + SCENE II. + Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace + + Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, IRAS, + ALEXAS, with others + + ANTONY. He will not fight with me, Domitius? + ENOBARBUS. No. + ANTONY. Why should he not? + ENOBARBUS. He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, + He is twenty men to one. + ANTONY. To-morrow, soldier, + By sea and land I'll fight. Or I will live, + Or bathe my dying honour in the blood + Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well? + ENOBARBUS. I'll strike, and cry 'Take all.' + ANTONY. Well said; come on. + Call forth my household servants; let's to-night + Be bounteous at our meal. + + Enter three or four servitors + + Give me thy hand, + Thou has been rightly honest. So hast thou; + Thou, and thou, and thou. You have serv'd me well, + And kings have been your fellows. + CLEOPATRA. [Aside to ENOBARBUS] What means this? + ENOBARBUS. [Aside to CLEOPATRA] 'Tis one of those odd tricks which + sorrow shoots + Out of the mind. + ANTONY. And thou art honest too. + I wish I could be made so many men, + And all of you clapp'd up together in + An Antony, that I might do you service + So good as you have done. + SERVANT. The gods forbid! + ANTONY. Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night. + Scant not my cups, and make as much of me + As when mine empire was your fellow too, + And suffer'd my command. + CLEOPATRA. [Aside to ENOBARBUS] What does he mean? + ENOBARBUS. [Aside to CLEOPATRA] To make his followers weep. + ANTONY. Tend me to-night; + May be it is the period of your duty. + Haply you shall not see me more; or if, + A mangled shadow. Perchance to-morrow + You'll serve another master. I look on you + As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends, + I turn you not away; but, like a master + Married to your good service, stay till death. + Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more, + And the gods yield you for't! + ENOBARBUS. What mean you, sir, + To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep; + And I, an ass, am onion-ey'd. For shame! + Transform us not to women. + ANTONY. Ho, ho, ho! + Now the witch take me if I meant it thus! + Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty friends, + You take me in too dolorous a sense; + For I spake to you for your comfort, did desire you + To burn this night with torches. Know, my hearts, + I hope well of to-morrow, and will lead you + Where rather I'll expect victorious life + Than death and honour. Let's to supper, come, + And drown consideration. Exeunt + +ACT_4|SC_3 + SCENE III. + Alexandria. Before CLEOPATRA's palace + + Enter a company of soldiers + + FIRST SOLDIER. Brother, good night. To-morrow is the day. + SECOND SOLDIER. It will determine one way. Fare you well. + Heard you of nothing strange about the streets? + FIRST SOLDIER. Nothing. What news? + SECOND SOLDIER. Belike 'tis but a rumour. Good night to you. + FIRST SOLDIER. Well, sir, good night. + [They meet other soldiers] + SECOND SOLDIER. Soldiers, have careful watch. + FIRST SOLDIER. And you. Good night, good night. + [The two companies separate and place themselves + in every corner of the stage] + SECOND SOLDIER. Here we. And if to-morrow + Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope + Our landmen will stand up. + THIRD SOLDIER. 'Tis a brave army, + And full of purpose. + [Music of the hautboys is under the stage] + SECOND SOLDIER. Peace, what noise? + THIRD SOLDIER. List, list! + SECOND SOLDIER. Hark! + THIRD SOLDIER. Music i' th' air. + FOURTH SOLDIER. Under the earth. + THIRD SOLDIER. It signs well, does it not? + FOURTH SOLDIER. No. + THIRD SOLDIER. Peace, I say! + What should this mean? + SECOND SOLDIER. 'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony lov'd, + Now leaves him. + THIRD SOLDIER. Walk; let's see if other watchmen + Do hear what we do. + SECOND SOLDIER. How now, masters! + SOLDIERS. [Speaking together] How now! + How now! Do you hear this? + FIRST SOLDIER. Ay; is't not strange? + THIRD SOLDIER. Do you hear, masters? Do you hear? + FIRST SOLDIER. Follow the noise so far as we have quarter; + Let's see how it will give off. + SOLDIERS. Content. 'Tis strange. Exeunt + +ACT_4|SC_4 + SCENE IV. + Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace + + Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, + with others + + ANTONY. Eros! mine armour, Eros! + CLEOPATRA. Sleep a little. + ANTONY. No, my chuck. Eros! Come, mine armour, Eros! + + Enter EROS with armour + + Come, good fellow, put mine iron on. + If fortune be not ours to-day, it is + Because we brave her. Come. + CLEOPATRA. Nay, I'll help too. + What's this for? + ANTONY. Ah, let be, let be! Thou art + The armourer of my heart. False, false; this, this. + CLEOPATRA. Sooth, la, I'll help. Thus it must be. + ANTONY. Well, well; + We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good fellow? + Go put on thy defences. + EROS. Briefly, sir. + CLEOPATRA. Is not this buckled well? + ANTONY. Rarely, rarely! + He that unbuckles this, till we do please + To daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm. + Thou fumblest, Eros, and my queen's a squire + More tight at this than thou. Dispatch. O love, + That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and knew'st + The royal occupation! Thou shouldst see + A workman in't. + + Enter an armed SOLDIER + + Good-morrow to thee. Welcome. + Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge. + To business that we love we rise betime, + And go to't with delight. + SOLDIER. A thousand, sir, + Early though't be, have on their riveted trim, + And at the port expect you. + [Shout. Flourish of trumpets within] + + Enter CAPTAINS and soldiers + + CAPTAIN. The morn is fair. Good morrow, General. + ALL. Good morrow, General. + ANTONY. 'Tis well blown, lads. + This morning, like the spirit of a youth + That means to be of note, begins betimes. + So, so. Come, give me that. This way. Well said. + Fare thee well, dame, whate'er becomes of me. + This is a soldier's kiss. Rebukeable, + And worthy shameful check it were, to stand + On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee + Now like a man of steel. You that will fight, + Follow me close; I'll bring you to't. Adieu. + Exeunt ANTONY, EROS, CAPTAINS and soldiers + CHARMIAN. Please you retire to your chamber? + CLEOPATRA. Lead me. + He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar might + Determine this great war in single fight! + Then, Antony- but now. Well, on. Exeunt + +ACT_4|SC_5 + SCENE V. + Alexandria. ANTONY'S camp + + Trumpets sound. Enter ANTONY and EROS, a SOLDIER + meeting them + + SOLDIER. The gods make this a happy day to Antony! + ANTONY. Would thou and those thy scars had once prevail'd + To make me fight at land! + SOLDIER. Hadst thou done so, + The kings that have revolted, and the soldier + That has this morning left thee, would have still + Followed thy heels. + ANTONY. Who's gone this morning? + SOLDIER. Who? + One ever near thee. Call for Enobarbus, + He shall not hear thee; or from Caesar's camp + Say 'I am none of thine.' + ANTONY. What say'st thou? + SOLDIER. Sir, + He is with Caesar. + EROS. Sir, his chests and treasure + He has not with him. + ANTONY. Is he gone? + SOLDIER. Most certain. + ANTONY. Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it; + Detain no jot, I charge thee. Write to him- + I will subscribe- gentle adieus and greetings; + Say that I wish he never find more cause + To change a master. O, my fortunes have + Corrupted honest men! Dispatch. Enobarbus! Exeunt + +ACT_4|SC_6 + SCENE VI. + Alexandria. CAESAR'S camp + + Flourish. Enter AGRIPPA, CAESAR, With DOLABELLA + and ENOBARBUS + + CAESAR. Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight. + Our will is Antony be took alive; + Make it so known. + AGRIPPA. Caesar, I shall. Exit + CAESAR. The time of universal peace is near. + Prove this a prosp'rous day, the three-nook'd world + Shall bear the olive freely. + + Enter A MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Antony + Is come into the field. + CAESAR. Go charge Agrippa + Plant those that have revolted in the vant, + That Antony may seem to spend his fury + Upon himself. Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS + ENOBARBUS. Alexas did revolt and went to Jewry on + Affairs of Antony; there did dissuade + Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar + And leave his master Antony. For this pains + Casaer hath hang'd him. Canidius and the rest + That fell away have entertainment, but + No honourable trust. I have done ill, + Of which I do accuse myself so sorely + That I will joy no more. + + Enter a SOLDIER of CAESAR'S + + SOLDIER. Enobarbus, Antony + Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with + His bounty overplus. The messenger + Came on my guard, and at thy tent is now + Unloading of his mules. + ENOBARBUS. I give it you. + SOLDIER. Mock not, Enobarbus. + I tell you true. Best you saf'd the bringer + Out of the host. I must attend mine office, + Or would have done't myself. Your emperor + Continues still a Jove. Exit + ENOBARBUS. I am alone the villain of the earth, + And feel I am so most. O Antony, + Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid + My better service, when my turpitude + Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart. + If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean + Shall outstrike thought; but thought will do't, I feel. + I fight against thee? No! I will go seek + Some ditch wherein to die; the foul'st best fits + My latter part of life. Exit + +ACT_4|SC_7 + SCENE VII. + Field of battle between the camps + + Alarum. Drums and trumpets. Enter AGRIPPA + and others + + AGRIPPA. Retire. We have engag'd ourselves too far. + Caesar himself has work, and our oppression + Exceeds what we expected. Exeunt + + Alarums. Enter ANTONY, and SCARUS wounded + + SCARUS. O my brave Emperor, this is fought indeed! + Had we done so at first, we had droven them home + With clouts about their heads. + ANTONY. Thou bleed'st apace. + SCARUS. I had a wound here that was like a T, + But now 'tis made an H. + ANTONY. They do retire. + SCARUS. We'll beat'em into bench-holes. I have yet + Room for six scotches more. + + Enter EROS + + EROS. They are beaten, sir, and our advantage serves + For a fair victory. + SCARUS. Let us score their backs + And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind. + 'Tis sport to maul a runner. + ANTONY. I will reward thee + Once for thy sprightly comfort, and tenfold + For thy good valour. Come thee on. + SCARUS. I'll halt after. Exeunt + +ACT_4|SC_8 + SCENE VIII. + Under the walls of Alexandria + + Alarum. Enter ANTONY, again in a march; SCARUS + with others + + ANTONY. We have beat him to his camp. Run one before + And let the Queen know of our gests. To-morrow, + Before the sun shall see's, we'll spill the blood + That has to-day escap'd. I thank you all; + For doughty-handed are you, and have fought + Not as you serv'd the cause, but as't had been + Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors. + Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends, + Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears + Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss + The honour'd gashes whole. + + Enter CLEOPATRA, attended + + [To SCARUS] Give me thy hand- + To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts, + Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o' th' world, + Chain mine arm'd neck. Leap thou, attire and all, + Through proof of harness to my heart, and there + Ride on the pants triumphing. + CLEOPATRA. Lord of lords! + O infinite virtue, com'st thou smiling from + The world's great snare uncaught? + ANTONY. Mine nightingale, + We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! though grey + Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we + A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can + Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man; + Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand- + Kiss it, my warrior- he hath fought to-day + As if a god in hate of mankind had + Destroyed in such a shape. + CLEOPATRA. I'll give thee, friend, + An armour all of gold; it was a king's. + ANTONY. He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncled + Like holy Phoebus' car. Give me thy hand. + Through Alexandria make a jolly march; + Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them. + Had our great palace the capacity + To camp this host, we all would sup together, + And drink carouses to the next day's fate, + Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters, + With brazen din blast you the city's ear; + Make mingle with our rattling tabourines, + That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together + Applauding our approach. Exeunt + +ACT_4|SC_9 + SCENE IX. + CAESAR'S camp + + Enter a CENTURION and his company; ENOBARBUS follows + + CENTURION. If we be not reliev'd within this hour, + We must return to th' court of guard. The night + Is shiny, and they say we shall embattle + By th' second hour i' th' morn. + FIRST WATCH. This last day was + A shrewd one to's. + ENOBARBUS. O, bear me witness, night- + SECOND WATCH. What man is this? + FIRST WATCH. Stand close and list him. + ENOBARBUS. Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon, + When men revolted shall upon record + Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did + Before thy face repent! + CENTURION. Enobarbus? + SECOND WATCH. Peace! + Hark further. + ENOBARBUS. O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, + The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me, + That life, a very rebel to my will, + May hang no longer on me. Throw my heart + Against the flint and hardness of my fault, + Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder, + And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony, + Nobler than my revolt is infamous, + Forgive me in thine own particular, + But let the world rank me in register + A master-leaver and a fugitive! + O Antony! O Antony! [Dies] + FIRST WATCH. Let's speak to him. + CENTURION. Let's hear him, for the things he speaks + May concern Caesar. + SECOND WATCH. Let's do so. But he sleeps. + CENTURION. Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his + Was never yet for sleep. + FIRST WATCH. Go we to him. + SECOND WATCH. Awake, sir, awake; speak to us. + FIRST WATCH. Hear you, sir? + CENTURION. The hand of death hath raught him. + [Drums afar off ] Hark! the drums + Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him + To th' court of guard; he is of note. Our hour + Is fully out. + SECOND WATCH. Come on, then; + He may recover yet. Exeunt with the body + +ACT_4|SC_10 + SCENE X. + Between the two camps + + Enter ANTONY and SCARUS, with their army + + ANTONY. Their preparation is to-day by sea; + We please them not by land. + SCARUS. For both, my lord. + ANTONY. I would they'd fight i' th' fire or i' th' air; + We'd fight there too. But this it is, our foot + Upon the hills adjoining to the city + Shall stay with us- Order for sea is given; + They have put forth the haven- + Where their appointment we may best discover + And look on their endeavour. Exeunt + +ACT_4|SC_11 + SCENE XI. + Between the camps + + Enter CAESAR and his army + + CAESAR. But being charg'd, we will be still by land, + Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force + Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales, + And hold our best advantage. Exeunt + +ACT_4|SC_12 + SCENE XII. + A hill near Alexandria + + Enter ANTONY and SCARUS + + ANTONY. Yet they are not join'd. Where yond pine does stand + I shall discover all. I'll bring thee word + Straight how 'tis like to go. Exit + SCARUS. Swallows have built + In Cleopatra's sails their nests. The augurers + Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly, + And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony + Is valiant and dejected; and by starts + His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear + Of what he has and has not. + [Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight] + + Re-enter ANTONY + + ANTONY. All is lost! + This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me. + My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder + They cast their caps up and carouse together + Like friends long lost. Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou + Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart + Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly; + For when I am reveng'd upon my charm, + I have done all. Bid them all fly; begone. Exit SCARUS + O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more! + Fortune and Antony part here; even here + Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts + That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave + Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets + On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd + That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am. + O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm- + Whose eye beck'd forth my wars and call'd them home, + Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end- + Like a right gypsy hath at fast and loose + Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss. + What, Eros, Eros! + + Enter CLEOPATRA + + Ah, thou spell! Avaunt! + CLEOPATRA. Why is my lord enrag'd against his love? + ANTONY. Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving + And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee + And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians; + Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot + Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown + For poor'st diminutives, for doits, and let + Patient Octavia plough thy visage up + With her prepared nails. Exit CLEOPATRA + 'Tis well th'art gone, + If it be well to live; but better 'twere + Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death + Might have prevented many. Eros, ho! + The shirt of Nessus is upon me; teach me, + Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage; + Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' th' moon, + And with those hands that grasp'd the heaviest club + Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die. + To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall + Under this plot. She dies for't. Eros, ho! Exit + +ACT_4|SC_13 + SCENE XIII. + Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace + + Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN + + CLEOPATRA. Help me, my women. O, he is more mad + Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly + Was never so emboss'd. + CHARMIAN. To th'monument! + There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead. + The soul and body rive not more in parting + Than greatness going off. + CLEOPATRA. To th' monument! + Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself; + Say that the last I spoke was 'Antony' + And word it, prithee, piteously. Hence, Mardian, + And bring me how he takes my death. To th' monument! + Exeunt + +ACT_4|SC_14 + SCENE XIV. + CLEOPATRA'S palace + + Enter ANTONY and EROS + + ANTONY. Eros, thou yet behold'st me? + EROS. Ay, noble lord. + ANTONY. Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish; + A vapour sometime like a bear or lion, + A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, + A forked mountain, or blue promontory + With trees upon't that nod unto the world + And mock our eyes with air. Thou hast seen these signs; + They are black vesper's pageants. + EROS. Ay, my lord. + ANTONY. That which is now a horse, even with a thought + The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct, + As water is in water. + EROS. It does, my lord. + ANTONY. My good knave Eros, now thy captain is + Even such a body. Here I am Antony; + Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. + I made these wars for Egypt; and the Queen- + Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine, + Which, whilst it was mine, had annex'd unto't + A million moe, now lost- she, Eros, has + Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false-play'd my glory + Unto an enemy's triumph. + Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us + Ourselves to end ourselves. + + Enter MARDIAN + + O, thy vile lady! + She has robb'd me of my sword. + MARDIAN. No, Antony; + My mistress lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled + With thine entirely. + ANTONY. Hence, saucy eunuch; peace! + She hath betray'd me, and shall die the death. + MARDIAN. Death of one person can be paid but once, + And that she has discharg'd. What thou wouldst do + Is done unto thy hand. The last she spake + Was 'Antony! most noble Antony!' + Then in the midst a tearing groan did break + The name of Antony; it was divided + Between her heart and lips. She rend'red life, + Thy name so buried in her. + ANTONY. Dead then? + MARDIAN. Dead. + ANTONY. Unarm, Eros; the long day's task is done, + And we must sleep. That thou depart'st hence safe + Does pay thy labour richly. Go. Exit MARDIAN + Off, pluck off! + The sevenfold shield of Ajax cannot keep + The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides! + Heart, once be stronger than thy continent, + Crack thy frail case. Apace, Eros, apace.- + No more a soldier. Bruised pieces, go; + You have been nobly borne.- From me awhile. Exit EROS + I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and + Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now + All length is torture. Since the torch is out, + Lie down, and stray no farther. Now all labour + Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles + Itself with strength. Seal then, and all is done. + Eros!- I come, my queen.- Eros!- Stay for me; + Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand, + And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze. + Dido and her Aeneas shall want troops, + And all the haunt be ours.- Come, Eros, Eros! + + Re-enter EROS + + EROS. What would my lord? + ANTONY. Since Cleopatra died, + I have liv'd in such dishonour that the gods + Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword + Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back + With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack + The courage of a woman; less noble mind + Than she which by her death our Caesar tells + 'I am conqueror of myself.' Thou art sworn, Eros, + That, when the exigent should come- which now + Is come indeed- when I should see behind me + Th' inevitable prosecution of + Disgrace and horror, that, on my command, + Thou then wouldst kill me. Do't; the time is come. + Thou strik'st not me; 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st. + Put colour in thy cheek. + EROS. The gods withhold me! + Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts, + Though enemy, lost aim and could not? + ANTONY. Eros, + Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and see + Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down + His corrigible neck, his face subdu'd + To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel'd seat + Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded + His baseness that ensued? + EROS. I would not see't. + ANTONY. Come, then; for with a wound I must be cur'd. + Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn + Most useful for thy country. + EROS. O, sir, pardon me! + ANTONY. When I did make thee free, swor'st thou not then + To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once, + Or thy precedent services are all + But accidents unpurpos'd. Draw, and come. + EROS. Turn from me then that noble countenance, + Wherein the worship of the whole world lies. + ANTONY. Lo thee! [Turning from him] + EROS. My sword is drawn. + ANTONY. Then let it do at once + The thing why thou hast drawn it. + EROS. My dear master, + My captain and my emperor, let me say, + Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell. + ANTONY. 'Tis said, man; and farewell. + EROS. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now? + ANTONY. Now, Eros. + EROS. Why, there then! Thus do I escape the sorrow + Of Antony's death. [Kills himself + ANTONY. Thrice nobler than myself! + Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what + I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros + Have, by their brave instruction, got upon me + A nobleness in record. But I will be + A bridegroom in my death, and run into't + As to a lover's bed. Come, then; and, Eros, + Thy master dies thy scholar. To do thus + [Falling on his sword] + I learn'd of thee. How? not dead? not dead?- + The guard, ho! O, dispatch me! + + Enter DERCETAS and a guard + + FIRST GUARD. What's the noise? + ANTONY. I have done my work ill, friends. O, make an end + Of what I have begun. + SECOND GUARD. The star is fall'n. + FIRST GUARD. And time is at his period. + ALL. Alas, and woe! + ANTONY. Let him that loves me, strike me dead. + FIRST GUARD. Not I. + SECOND GUARD. Nor I. + THIRD GUARD. Nor any one. Exeunt guard + DERCETAS. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. + This sword but shown to Caesar, with this tidings, + Shall enter me with him. + + Enter DIOMEDES + + DIOMEDES. Where's Antony? + DERCETAS. There, Diomed, there. + DIOMEDES. Lives he? + Wilt thou not answer, man? Exit DERCETAS + ANTONY. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword and give me + Sufficing strokes for death. + DIOMEDES. Most absolute lord, + My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee. + ANTONY. When did she send thee? + DIOMEDES. Now, my lord. + ANTONY. Where is she? + DIOMEDES. Lock'd in her monument. She had a prophesying fear + Of what hath come to pass; for when she saw- + Which never shall be found- you did suspect + She had dispos'd with Caesar, and that your rage + Would not be purg'd, she sent you word she was dead; + But fearing since how it might work, hath sent + Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come, + I dread, too late. + ANTONY. Too late, good Diomed. Call my guard, I prithee. + DIOMEDES. What, ho! the Emperor's guard! The guard, what ho! + Come, your lord calls! + + Enter four or five of the guard of ANTONY + + ANTONY. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides; + 'Tis the last service that I shall command you. + FIRST GUARD. Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear + All your true followers out. + ALL. Most heavy day! + ANTONY. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate + To grace it with your sorrows. Bid that welcome + Which comes to punish us, and we punish it, + Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up. + I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends, + And have my thanks for all. Exeunt, hearing ANTONY +ACT_4|SC_15 + SCENE XV. + Alexandria. A monument + + Enter CLEOPATRA and her maids aloft, with CHARMIAN + and IRAS + + CLEOPATRA. O Charmian, I will never go from hence! + CHARMIAN. Be comforted, dear madam. + CLEOPATRA. No, I will not. + All strange and terrible events are welcome, + But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow, + Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great + As that which makes it. + + Enter DIOMEDES, below + + How now! Is he dead? + DIOMEDES. His death's upon him, but not dead. + Look out o' th' other side your monument; + His guard have brought him thither. + + Enter, below, ANTONY, borne by the guard + + CLEOPATRA. O sun, + Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in! Darkling stand + The varying shore o' th' world. O Antony, + Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian; help, Iras, help; + Help, friends below! Let's draw him hither. + ANTONY. Peace! + Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, + But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself. + CLEOPATRA. So it should be, that none but Antony + Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so! + ANTONY. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only + I here importune death awhile, until + Of many thousand kisses the poor last + I lay upon thy lips. + CLEOPATRA. I dare not, dear. + Dear my lord, pardon! I dare not, + Lest I be taken. Not th' imperious show + Of the full-fortun'd Caesar ever shall + Be brooch'd with me. If knife, drugs, serpents, have + Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe. + Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes + And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour + Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony- + Help me, my women- we must draw thee up; + Assist, good friends. + ANTONY. O, quick, or I am gone. + CLEOPATRA. Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord! + Our strength is all gone into heaviness; + That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's power, + The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up, + And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little. + Wishers were ever fools. O come, come, + [They heave ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA] + And welcome, welcome! Die where thou hast liv'd. + Quicken with kissing. Had my lips that power, + Thus would I wear them out. + ALL. A heavy sight! + ANTONY. I am dying, Egypt, dying. + Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. + CLEOPATRA. No, let me speak; and let me rail so high + That the false huswife Fortune break her wheel, + Provok'd by my offence. + ANTONY. One word, sweet queen: + Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O! + CLEOPATRA. They do not go together. + ANTONY. Gentle, hear me: + None about Caesar trust but Proculeius. + CLEOPATRA. My resolution and my hands I'll trust; + None about Caesar + ANTONY. The miserable change now at my end + Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts + In feeding them with those my former fortunes + Wherein I liv'd the greatest prince o' th' world, + The noblest; and do now not basely die, + Not cowardly put off my helmet to + My countryman- a Roman by a Roman + Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my spirit is going + I can no more. + CLEOPATRA. Noblest of men, woo't die? + Hast thou no care of me? Shall I abide + In this dull world, which in thy absence is + No better than a sty? O, see, my women, [Antony dies] + The crown o' th' earth doth melt. My lord! + O, wither'd is the garland of the war, + The soldier's pole is fall'n! Young boys and girls + Are level now with men. The odds is gone, + And there is nothing left remarkable + Beneath the visiting moon. [Swoons] + CHARMIAN. O, quietness, lady! + IRAS. She's dead too, our sovereign. + CHARMIAN. Lady! + IRAS. Madam! + CHARMIAN. O madam, madam, madam! + IRAS. Royal Egypt, Empress! + CHARMIAN. Peace, peace, Iras! + CLEOPATRA. No more but e'en a woman, and commanded + By such poor passion as the maid that milks + And does the meanest chares. It were for me + To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; + To tell them that this world did equal theirs + Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but nought; + Patience is sottish, and impatience does + Become a dog that's mad. Then is it sin + To rush into the secret house of death + Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? + What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian! + My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look, + Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart. + We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, what's noble, + Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, + And make death proud to take us. Come, away; + This case of that huge spirit now is cold. + Ah, women, women! Come; we have no friend + But resolution and the briefest end. + Exeunt; those above hearing off ANTONY'S body + +ACT_5|SC_1 + ACT V. SCENE I. + Alexandria. CAESAR'S camp + + Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MAECENAS, GALLUS, + PROCULEIUS, and others, his Council of War + + CAESAR. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; + Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks + The pauses that he makes. + DOLABELLA. Caesar, I shall. Exit + + Enter DERCETAS With the sword of ANTONY + + CAESAR. Wherefore is that? And what art thou that dar'st + Appear thus to us? + DERCETAS. I am call'd Dercetas; + Mark Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy + Best to be serv'd. Whilst he stood up and spoke, + He was my master, and I wore my life + To spend upon his haters. If thou please + To take me to thee, as I was to him + I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not, + I yield thee up my life. + CAESAR. What is't thou say'st? + DERCETAS. I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead. + CAESAR. The breaking of so great a thing should make + A greater crack. The round world + Should have shook lions into civil streets, + And citizens to their dens. The death of Antony + Is not a single doom; in the name lay + A moiety of the world. + DERCETAS. He is dead, Caesar, + Not by a public minister of justice, + Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand + Which writ his honour in the acts it did + Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, + Splitted the heart. This is his sword; + I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd + With his most noble blood. + CAESAR. Look you sad, friends? + The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings + To wash the eyes of kings. + AGRIPPA. And strange it is + That nature must compel us to lament + Our most persisted deeds. + MAECENAS. His taints and honours + Wag'd equal with him. + AGRIPPA. A rarer spirit never + Did steer humanity. But you gods will give us + Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch'd. + MAECENAS. When such a spacious mirror's set before him, + He needs must see himself. + CAESAR. O Antony, + I have follow'd thee to this! But we do lance + Diseases in our bodies. I must perforce + Have shown to thee such a declining day + Or look on thine; we could not stall together + In the whole world. But yet let me lament, + With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts, + That thou, my brother, my competitor + In top of all design, my mate in empire, + Friend and companion in the front of war, + The arm of mine own body, and the heart + Where mine his thoughts did kindle- that our stars, + Unreconciliable, should divide + Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends- + + Enter an EGYPTIAN + + But I will tell you at some meeter season. + The business of this man looks out of him; + We'll hear him what he says. Whence are you? + EGYPTIAN. A poor Egyptian, yet the Queen, my mistress, + Confin'd in all she has, her monument, + Of thy intents desires instruction, + That she preparedly may frame herself + To th' way she's forc'd to. + CAESAR. Bid her have good heart. + She soon shall know of us, by some of ours, + How honourable and how kindly we + Determine for her; for Caesar cannot learn + To be ungentle. + EGYPTIAN. So the gods preserve thee! Exit + CAESAR. Come hither, Proculeius. Go and say + We purpose her no shame. Give her what comforts + The quality of her passion shall require, + Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke + She do defeat us; for her life in Rome + Would be eternal in our triumph. Go, + And with your speediest bring us what she says, + And how you find her. + PROCULEIUS. Caesar, I shall. Exit + CAESAR. Gallus, go you along. Exit GALLUS + Where's Dolabella, to second Proculeius? + ALL. Dolabella! + CAESAR. Let him alone, for I remember now + How he's employ'd; he shall in time be ready. + Go with me to my tent, where you shall see + How hardly I was drawn into this war, + How calm and gentle I proceeded still + In all my writings. Go with me, and see + What I can show in this. Exeunt + +ACT_5|SC_2 + SCENE II. + Alexandria. The monument + + Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN + + CLEOPATRA. My desolation does begin to make + A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Caesar: + Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave, + A minister of her will; and it is great + To do that thing that ends all other deeds, + Which shackles accidents and bolts up change, + Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug, + The beggar's nurse and Caesar's. + + Enter, to the gates of the monument, PROCULEIUS, GALLUS, + and soldiers + + PROCULEIUS. Caesar sends greetings to the Queen of Egypt, + And bids thee study on what fair demands + Thou mean'st to have him grant thee. + CLEOPATRA. What's thy name? + PROCULEIUS. My name is Proculeius. + CLEOPATRA. Antony + Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but + I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd, + That have no use for trusting. If your master + Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him + That majesty, to keep decorum, must + No less beg than a kingdom. If he please + To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son, + He gives me so much of mine own as I + Will kneel to him with thanks. + PROCULEIUS. Be of good cheer; + Y'are fall'n into a princely hand; fear nothing. + Make your full reference freely to my lord, + Who is so full of grace that it flows over + On all that need. Let me report to him + Your sweet dependency, and you shall find + A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness + Where he for grace is kneel'd to. + CLEOPATRA. Pray you tell him + I am his fortune's vassal and I send him + The greatness he has got. I hourly learn + A doctrine of obedience, and would gladly + Look him i' th' face. + PROCULEIUS. This I'll report, dear lady. + Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied + Of him that caus'd it. + GALLUS. You see how easily she may be surpris'd. + + Here PROCULEIUS and two of the guard ascend the + monument by a ladder placed against a window, + and come behind CLEOPATRA. Some of the guard + unbar and open the gates + + Guard her till Caesar come. Exit + IRAS. Royal Queen! + CHARMIAN. O Cleopatra! thou art taken, Queen! + CLEOPATRA. Quick, quick, good hands. [Drawing a dagger] + PROCULEIUS. Hold, worthy lady, hold, [Disarms her] + Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this + Reliev'd, but not betray'd. + CLEOPATRA. What, of death too, + That rids our dogs of languish? + PROCULEIUS. Cleopatra, + Do not abuse my master's bounty by + Th' undoing of yourself. Let the world see + His nobleness well acted, which your death + Will never let come forth. + CLEOPATRA. Where art thou, death? + Come hither, come! Come, come, and take a queen + Worth many babes and beggars! + PROCULEIUS. O, temperance, lady! + CLEOPATRA. Sir, I will eat no meat; I'll not drink, sir; + If idle talk will once be necessary, + I'll not sleep neither. This mortal house I'll ruin, + Do Caesar what he can. Know, sir, that I + Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court, + Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye + Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up, + And show me to the shouting varletry + Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt + Be gentle grave unto me! Rather on Nilus' mud + Lay me stark-nak'd, and let the water-flies + Blow me into abhorring! Rather make + My country's high pyramides my gibbet, + And hang me up in chains! + PROCULEIUS. You do extend + These thoughts of horror further than you shall + Find cause in Caesar. + + Enter DOLABELLA + + DOLABELLA. Proculeius, + What thou hast done thy master Caesar knows, + And he hath sent for thee. For the Queen, + I'll take her to my guard. + PROCULEIUS. So, Dolabella, + It shall content me best. Be gentle to her. + [To CLEOPATRA] To Caesar I will speak what you shall please, + If you'll employ me to him. + CLEOPATRA. Say I would die. + Exeunt PROCULEIUS and soldiers + DOLABELLA. Most noble Empress, you have heard of me? + CLEOPATRA. I cannot tell. + DOLABELLA. Assuredly you know me. + CLEOPATRA. No matter, sir, what I have heard or known. + You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams; + Is't not your trick? + DOLABELLA. I understand not, madam. + CLEOPATRA. I dreamt there was an Emperor Antony- + O, such another sleep, that I might see + But such another man! + DOLABELLA. If it might please ye- + CLEOPATRA. His face was as the heav'ns, and therein stuck + A sun and moon, which kept their course and lighted + The little O, the earth. + DOLABELLA. Most sovereign creature- + CLEOPATRA. His legs bestrid the ocean; his rear'd arm + Crested the world. His voice was propertied + As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; + But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, + He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, + There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas + That grew the more by reaping. His delights + Were dolphin-like: they show'd his back above + The element they liv'd in. In his livery + Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and islands were + As plates dropp'd from his pocket. + DOLABELLA. Cleopatra- + CLEOPATRA. Think you there was or might be such a man + As this I dreamt of? + DOLABELLA. Gentle madam, no. + CLEOPATRA. You lie, up to the hearing of the gods. + But if there be nor ever were one such, + It's past the size of drearning. Nature wants stuff + To vie strange forms with fancy; yet t' imagine + An Antony were nature's piece 'gainst fancy, + Condemning shadows quite. + DOLABELLA. Hear me, good madam. + Your loss is, as yourself, great; and you bear it + As answering to the weight. Would I might never + O'ertake pursu'd success, but I do feel, + By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites + My very heart at root. + CLEOPATRA. I thank you, sir. + Know you what Caesar means to do with me? + DOLABELLA. I am loath to tell you what I would you knew. + CLEOPATRA. Nay, pray you, sir. + DOLABELLA. Though he be honourable- + CLEOPATRA. He'll lead me, then, in triumph? + DOLABELLA. Madam, he will. I know't. [Flourish] + [Within: 'Make way there-Caesar!'] + + Enter CAESAR; GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, MAECENAS, SELEUCUS, + and others of his train + + CAESAR. Which is the Queen of Egypt? + DOLABELLA. It is the Emperor, madam. [CLEOPATPA kneels] + CAESAR. Arise, you shall not kneel. + I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt. + CLEOPATRA. Sir, the gods + Will have it thus; my master and my lord + I must obey. + CAESAR. Take to you no hard thoughts. + The record of what injuries you did us, + Though written in our flesh, we shall remember + As things but done by chance. + CLEOPATRA. Sole sir o' th' world, + I cannot project mine own cause so well + To make it clear, but do confess I have + Been laden with like frailties which before + Have often sham'd our sex. + CAESAR. Cleopatra, know + We will extenuate rather than enforce. + If you apply yourself to our intents- + Which towards you are most gentle- you shall find + A benefit in this change; but if you seek + To lay on me a cruelty by taking + Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself + Of my good purposes, and put your children + To that destruction which I'll guard them from, + If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave. + CLEOPATRA. And may, through all the world. 'Tis yours, and we, + Your scutcheons and your signs of conquest, shall + Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord. + CAESAR. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra. + CLEOPATRA. This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels, + I am possess'd of. 'Tis exactly valued, + Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus? + SELEUCUS. Here, madam. + CLEOPATRA. This is my treasurer; let him speak, my lord, + Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd + To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus. + SELEUCUS. Madam, + I had rather seal my lips than to my peril + Speak that which is not. + CLEOPATRA. What have I kept back? + SELEUCUS. Enough to purchase what you have made known. + CAESAR. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve + Your wisdom in the deed. + CLEOPATRA. See, Caesar! O, behold, + How pomp is followed! Mine will now be yours; + And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine. + The ingratitude of this Seleucus does + Even make me wild. O slave, of no more trust + Than love that's hir'd! What, goest thou back? Thou shalt + Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes + Though they had wings. Slave, soulless villain, dog! + O rarely base! + CAESAR. Good Queen, let us entreat you. + CLEOPATRA. O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this, + That thou vouchsafing here to visit me, + Doing the honour of thy lordliness + To one so meek, that mine own servant should + Parcel the sum of my disgraces by + Addition of his envy! Say, good Caesar, + That I some lady trifles have reserv'd, + Immoment toys, things of such dignity + As we greet modern friends withal; and say + Some nobler token I have kept apart + For Livia and Octavia, to induce + Their mediation- must I be unfolded + With one that I have bred? The gods! It smites me + Beneath the fall I have. [To SELEUCUS] Prithee go hence; + Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits + Through th' ashes of my chance. Wert thou a man, + Thou wouldst have mercy on me. + CAESAR. Forbear, Seleucus. Exit SELEUCUS + CLEOPATRA. Be it known that we, the greatest, are misthought + For things that others do; and when we fall + We answer others' merits in our name, + Are therefore to be pitied. + CAESAR. Cleopatra, + Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknowledg'd, + Put we i' th' roll of conquest. Still be't yours, + Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe + Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you + Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd; + Make not your thoughts your prisons. No, dear Queen; + For we intend so to dispose you as + Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed and sleep. + Our care and pity is so much upon you + That we remain your friend; and so, adieu. + CLEOPATRA. My master and my lord! + CAESAR. Not so. Adieu. + Flourish. Exeunt CAESAR and his train + CLEOPATRA. He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not + Be noble to myself. But hark thee, Charmian! + [Whispers CHARMIAN] + IRAS. Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, + And we are for the dark. + CLEOPATRA. Hie thee again. + I have spoke already, and it is provided; + Go put it to the haste. + CHARMIAN. Madam, I will. + + Re-enter DOLABELLA + + DOLABELLA. Where's the Queen? + CHARMIAN. Behold, sir. Exit + CLEOPATRA. Dolabella! + DOLABELLA. Madam, as thereto sworn by your command, + Which my love makes religion to obey, + I tell you this: Caesar through Syria + Intends his journey, and within three days + You with your children will he send before. + Make your best use of this; I have perform'd + Your pleasure and my promise. + CLEOPATRA. Dolabella, + I shall remain your debtor. + DOLABELLA. I your servant. + Adieu, good Queen; I must attend on Caesar. + CLEOPATRA. Farewell, and thanks. Exit DOLABELLA + Now, Iras, what think'st thou? + Thou an Egyptian puppet shall be shown + In Rome as well as I. Mechanic slaves, + With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall + Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths, + Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded, + And forc'd to drink their vapour. + IRAS. The gods forbid! + CLEOPATRA. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras. Saucy lictors + Will catch at us like strumpets, and scald rhymers + Ballad us out o' tune; the quick comedians + Extemporally will stage us, and present + Our Alexandrian revels; Antony + Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see + Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness + I' th' posture of a whore. + IRAS. O the good gods! + CLEOPATRA. Nay, that's certain. + IRAS. I'll never see't, for I am sure mine nails + Are stronger than mine eyes. + CLEOPATRA. Why, that's the way + To fool their preparation and to conquer + Their most absurd intents. + + Enter CHARMIAN + + Now, Charmian! + Show me, my women, like a queen. Go fetch + My best attires. I am again for Cydnus, + To meet Mark Antony. Sirrah, Iras, go. + Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed; + And when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave + To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all. + Exit IRAS. A noise within + Wherefore's this noise? + + Enter a GUARDSMAN + + GUARDSMAN. Here is a rural fellow + That will not be denied your Highness' presence. + He brings you figs. + CLEOPATRA. Let him come in. Exit GUARDSMAN + What poor an instrument + May do a noble deed! He brings me liberty. + My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing + Of woman in me. Now from head to foot + I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon + No planet is of mine. + + Re-enter GUARDSMAN and CLOWN, with a basket + + GUARDSMAN. This is the man. + CLEOPATRA. Avoid, and leave him. Exit GUARDSMAN + Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there + That kills and pains not? + CLOWN. Truly, I have him. But I would not be the party that should + desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal; those that + do die of it do seldom or never recover. + CLEOPATRA. Remember'st thou any that have died on't? + CLOWN. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no + longer than yesterday: a very honest woman, but something given + to lie, as a woman should not do but in the way of honesty; how + she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt- truly she makes + a very good report o' th' worm. But he that will believe all that + they say shall never be saved by half that they do. But this is + most falliable, the worm's an odd worm. + CLEOPATRA. Get thee hence; farewell. + CLOWN. I wish you all joy of the worm. + [Sets down the basket] + CLEOPATRA. Farewell. + CLOWN. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his + kind. + CLEOPATRA. Ay, ay; farewell. + CLOWN. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping + of wise people; for indeed there is no goodness in the worm. + CLEOPATRA. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. + CLOWN. Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth + the feeding. + CLEOPATRA. Will it eat me? + CLOWN. You must not think I am so simple but I know the devil + himself will not eat a woman. I know that a woman is a dish for + the gods, if the devil dress her not. But truly, these same + whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women, for in + every ten that they make the devils mar five. + CLEOPATRA. Well, get thee gone; farewell. + CLOWN. Yes, forsooth. I wish you joy o' th' worm. Exit + + Re-enter IRAS, with a robe, crown, &c. + + CLEOPATRA. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have + Immortal longings in me. Now no more + The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip. + Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear + Antony call. I see him rouse himself + To praise my noble act. I hear him mock + The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men + To excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come. + Now to that name my courage prove my title! + I am fire and air; my other elements + I give to baser life. So, have you done? + Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. + Farewell, kind Charmian. Iras, long farewell. + [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies] + Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? + If thus thou and nature can so gently part, + The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, + Which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? + If thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world + It is not worth leave-taking. + CHARMIAN. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain, that I may say + The gods themselves do weep. + CLEOPATRA. This proves me base. + If she first meet the curled Antony, + He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss + Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou mortal wretch, + [To an asp, which she applies to her breast] + With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate + Of life at once untie. Poor venomous fool, + Be angry and dispatch. O couldst thou speak, + That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass + Unpolicied! + CHARMIAN. O Eastern star! + CLEOPATRA. Peace, peace! + Dost thou not see my baby at my breast + That sucks the nurse asleep? + CHARMIAN. O, break! O, break! + CLEOPATRA. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle- + O Antony! Nay, I will take thee too: + [Applying another asp to her arm] + What should I stay- [Dies] + CHARMIAN. In this vile world? So, fare thee well. + Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies + A lass unparallel'd. Downy windows, close; + And golden Phoebus never be beheld + Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry; + I'll mend it and then play- + + Enter the guard, rushing in + + FIRST GUARD. Where's the Queen? + CHARMIAN. Speak softly, wake her not. + FIRST GUARD. Caesar hath sent- + CHARMIAN. Too slow a messenger. [Applies an asp] + O, come apace, dispatch. I partly feel thee. + FIRST GUARD. Approach, ho! All's not well: Caesar's beguil'd. + SECOND GUARD. There's Dolabella sent from Caesar; call him. + FIRST GUARD. What work is here! Charmian, is this well done? + CHARMIAN. It is well done, and fitting for a princes + Descended of so many royal kings. + Ah, soldier! [CHARMIAN dies] + + Re-enter DOLABELLA + + DOLABELLA. How goes it here? + SECOND GUARD. All dead. + DOLABELLA. Caesar, thy thoughts + Touch their effects in this. Thyself art coming + To see perform'd the dreaded act which thou + So sought'st to hinder. + [Within: 'A way there, a way for Caesar!'] + + Re-enter CAESAR and all his train + + DOLABELLA. O sir, you are too sure an augurer: + That you did fear is done. + CAESAR. Bravest at the last, + She levell'd at our purposes, and being royal, + Took her own way. The manner of their deaths? + I do not see them bleed. + DOLABELLA. Who was last with them? + FIRST GUARD. A simple countryman that brought her figs. + This was his basket. + CAESAR. Poison'd then. + FIRST GUARD. O Caesar, + This Charmian liv'd but now; she stood and spake. + I found her trimming up the diadem + On her dead mistress. Tremblingly she stood, + And on the sudden dropp'd. + CAESAR. O noble weakness! + If they had swallow'd poison 'twould appear + By external swelling; but she looks like sleep, + As she would catch another Antony + In her strong toil of grace. + DOLABELLA. Here on her breast + There is a vent of blood, and something blown; + The like is on her arm. + FIRST GUARD. This is an aspic's trail; and these fig-leaves + Have slime upon them, such as th' aspic leaves + Upon the caves of Nile. + CAESAR. Most probable + That so she died; for her physician tells me + She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite + Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed, + And bear her women from the monument. + She shall be buried by her Antony; + No grave upon the earth shall clip in it + A pair so famous. High events as these + Strike those that make them; and their story is + No less in pity than his glory which + Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall + In solemn show attend this funeral, + And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see + High order in this great solemnity. Exeunt + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1601 + +AS YOU LIKE IT + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + + DUKE, living in exile + FREDERICK, his brother, and usurper of his dominions + AMIENS, lord attending on the banished Duke + JAQUES, " " " " " " + LE BEAU, a courtier attending upon Frederick + CHARLES, wrestler to Frederick + OLIVER, son of Sir Rowland de Boys + JAQUES, " " " " " " + ORLANDO, " " " " " " + ADAM, servant to Oliver + DENNIS, " " " + TOUCHSTONE, the court jester + SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a vicar + CORIN, shepherd + SILVIUS, " + WILLIAM, a country fellow, in love with Audrey + A person representing HYMEN + + ROSALIND, daughter to the banished Duke + CELIA, daughter to Frederick + PHEBE, a shepherdes + AUDREY, a country wench + + Lords, Pages, Foresters, and Attendants + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +OLIVER'S house; FREDERICK'S court; and the Forest of Arden + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Orchard of OLIVER'S house + +Enter ORLANDO and ADAM + + ORLANDO. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed + me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st, + charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there + begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and + report speaks goldenly of his profit. For my part, he keeps me + rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at + home unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my + birth that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are + bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, + they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly + hir'd; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for + the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him + as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the + something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from + me. He lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a + brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my + education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of + my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against + this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no + wise remedy how to avoid it. + + Enter OLIVER + + ADAM. Yonder comes my master, your brother. + ORLANDO. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me + up. [ADAM retires] + OLIVER. Now, sir! what make you here? + ORLANDO. Nothing; I am not taught to make any thing. + OLIVER. What mar you then, sir? + ORLANDO. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a + poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. + OLIVER. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be nought awhile. + ORLANDO. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What + prodigal portion have I spent that I should come to such penury? + OLIVER. Know you where you are, sir? + ORLANDO. O, sir, very well; here in your orchard. + OLIVER. Know you before whom, sir? + ORLANDO. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are + my eldest brother; and in the gentle condition of blood, you + should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better + in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not + away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as + much of my father in me as you, albeit I confess your coming + before me is nearer to his reverence. + OLIVER. What, boy! [Strikes him] + ORLANDO. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. + OLIVER. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? + ORLANDO. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de + Boys. He was my father; and he is thrice a villain that says such + a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not + take this hand from thy throat till this other had pull'd out thy + tongue for saying so. Thou has rail'd on thyself. + ADAM. [Coming forward] Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's + remembrance, be at accord. + OLIVER. Let me go, I say. + ORLANDO. I will not, till I please; you shall hear me. My father + charg'd you in his will to give me good education: you have + train'd me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all + gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in + me, and I will no longer endure it; therefore allow me such + exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor + allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy + my fortunes. + OLIVER. And what wilt thou do? Beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, + get you in. I will not long be troubled with you; you shall have + some part of your will. I pray you leave me. + ORLANDO. I no further offend you than becomes me for my good. + OLIVER. Get you with him, you old dog. + ADAM. Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in + your service. God be with my old master! He would not have spoke + such a word. + Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM + OLIVER. Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will physic + your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, + Dennis! + + Enter DENNIS + + DENNIS. Calls your worship? + OLIVER. not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? + DENNIS. So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access + to you. + OLIVER. Call him in. [Exit DENNIS] 'Twill be a good way; and + to-morrow the wrestling is. + + Enter CHARLES + + CHARLES. Good morrow to your worship. + OLIVER. Good Monsieur Charles! What's the new news at the new + court? + CHARLES. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news; that + is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke; + and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary + exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; + therefore he gives them good leave to wander. + OLIVER. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daughter, be banished + with her father? + CHARLES. O, no; for the Duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her, + being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have + followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at + the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own + daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. + OLIVER. Where will the old Duke live? + CHARLES. They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many + merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood + of England. They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, + and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. + OLIVER. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke? + CHARLES. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a + matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger + brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against + me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he + that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. + Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would + be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come + in; therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint + you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment, + or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is + thing of his own search and altogether against my will. + OLIVER. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt + find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my + brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to + dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, + Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of + ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret + and villainous contriver against me his natural brother. + Therefore use thy discretion: I had as lief thou didst break his + neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou + dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace + himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap + thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he + hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I + assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one + so young and so villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly + of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush + and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. + CHARLES. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come + to-morrow I'll give him his payment. If ever he go alone again, + I'll never wrestle for prize more. And so, God keep your worship! + Exit + OLIVER. Farewell, good Charles. Now will I stir this gamester. I + hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, + hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd and + yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly + beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and + especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am + altogether misprised. But it shall not be so long; this wrestler + shall clear all. Nothing remains but that I kindle the boy + thither, which now I'll go about. Exit + + + +<> + + + + +SCENE II. +A lawn before the DUKE'S palace + +Enter ROSALIND and CELIA + + CELIA. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. + ROSALIND. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and + would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget + a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any + extraordinary pleasure. + CELIA. Herein I see thou lov'st me not with the full weight that I + love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy + uncle, the Duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I + could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so wouldst + thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd + as mine is to thee. + ROSALIND. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to + rejoice in yours. + CELIA. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to + have; and, truly, when he dies thou shalt be his heir; for what + he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee + again in affection. By mine honour, I will; and when I break that + oath, let me turn monster; therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear + Rose, be merry. + ROSALIND. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. + Let me see; what think you of falling in love? + CELIA. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal; but love no man + in good earnest, nor no further in sport neither than with safety + of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again. + ROSALIND. What shall be our sport, then? + CELIA. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her + wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. + ROSALIND. I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily + misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her + gifts to women. + CELIA. 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes + honest; and those that she makes honest she makes very + ill-favouredly. + ROSALIND. Nay; now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's: + Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of + Nature. + + Enter TOUCHSTONE + + CELIA. No; when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by + Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to + flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off + the argument? + ROSALIND. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when + Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit. + CELIA. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but + Nature's, who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of + such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for + always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How + now, wit! Whither wander you? + TOUCHSTONE. Mistress, you must come away to your father. + CELIA. Were you made the messenger? + TOUCHSTONE. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you. + ROSALIND. Where learned you that oath, fool? + TOUCHSTONE. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were + good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught. + Now I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard + was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn. + CELIA. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge? + ROSALIND. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. + TOUCHSTONE. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear + by your beards that I am a knave. + CELIA. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. + TOUCHSTONE. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were. But if you + swear by that that not, you are not forsworn; no more was this + knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he + had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancackes or + that mustard. + CELIA. Prithee, who is't that thou mean'st? + TOUCHSTONE. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. + CELIA. My father's love is enough to honour him. Enough, speak no + more of him; you'll be whipt for taxation one of these days. + TOUCHSTONE. The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise + men do foolishly. + CELIA. By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little wit that + fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have + makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. + + Enter LE BEAU + + ROSALIND. With his mouth full of news. + CELIA. Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young. + ROSALIND. Then shall we be news-cramm'd. + CELIA. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, + Monsieur Le Beau. What's the news? + LE BEAU. Fair Princess, you have lost much good sport. + CELIA. Sport! of what colour? + LE BEAU. What colour, madam? How shall I answer you? + ROSALIND. As wit and fortune will. + TOUCHSTONE. Or as the Destinies decrees. + CELIA. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel. + TOUCHSTONE. Nay, if I keep not my rank- + ROSALIND. Thou losest thy old smell. + LE BEAU. You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of good + wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. + ROSALIND. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. + LE BEAU. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your + ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and + here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. + CELIA. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. + LE BEAU. There comes an old man and his three sons- + CELIA. I could match this beginning with an old tale. + LE BEAU. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence. + ROSALIND. With bills on their necks: 'Be it known unto all men by + these presents'- + LE BEAU. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke's + wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of + his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him. So he serv'd + the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, + their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the + beholders take his part with weeping. + ROSALIND. Alas! + TOUCHSTONE. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have + lost? + LE BEAU. Why, this that I speak of. + TOUCHSTONE. Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time + that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. + CELIA. Or I, I promise thee. + ROSALIND. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in + his sides? Is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we + see this wrestling, cousin? + LE BEAU. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place + appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. + CELIA. Yonder, sure, they are coming. Let us now stay and see it. + + Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, LORDS, ORLANDO, + CHARLES, and ATTENDANTS + + FREDERICK. Come on; since the youth will not be entreated, his own + peril on his forwardness. + ROSALIND. Is yonder the man? + LE BEAU. Even he, madam. + CELIA. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks successfully. + FREDERICK. How now, daughter and cousin! Are you crept hither to + see the wrestling? + ROSALIND. Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave. + FREDERICK. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, + there is such odds in the man. In pity of the challenger's youth + I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to + him, ladies; see if you can move him. + CELIA. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. + FREDERICK. Do so; I'll not be by. + [DUKE FREDERICK goes apart] + LE BEAU. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princess calls for you. + ORLANDO. I attend them with all respect and duty. + ROSALIND. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler? + ORLANDO. No, fair Princess; he is the general challenger. I come + but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. + CELIA. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. + You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength; if you saw + yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the + fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal + enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own + safety and give over this attempt. + ROSALIND. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be + misprised: we will make it our suit to the Duke that the + wrestling might not go forward. + ORLANDO. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, + wherein I confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent + ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go + with me to my trial; wherein if I be foil'd there is but one + sham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is + willing to be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none + to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only + in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when + I have made it empty. + ROSALIND. The little strength that I have, I would it were with + you. + CELIA. And mine to eke out hers. + ROSALIND. Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceiv'd in you! + CELIA. Your heart's desires be with you! + CHARLES. Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to + lie with his mother earth? + ORLANDO. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. + FREDERICK. You shall try but one fall. + CHARLES. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat him to a + second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first. + ORLANDO. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mock'd me + before; but come your ways. + ROSALIND. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! + CELIA. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the + leg. [They wrestle] + ROSALIND. O excellent young man! + CELIA. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should + down. + [CHARLES is thrown. Shout] + FREDERICK. No more, no more. + ORLANDO. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breath'd. + FREDERICK. How dost thou, Charles? + LE BEAU. He cannot speak, my lord. + FREDERICK. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man? + ORLANDO. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de + Boys. + FREDERICK. I would thou hadst been son to some man else. + The world esteem'd thy father honourable, + But I did find him still mine enemy. + Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed, + Hadst thou descended from another house. + But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth; + I would thou hadst told me of another father. + Exeunt DUKE, train, and LE BEAU + CELIA. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? + ORLANDO. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, + His youngest son- and would not change that calling + To be adopted heir to Frederick. + ROSALIND. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul, + And all the world was of my father's mind; + Had I before known this young man his son, + I should have given him tears unto entreaties + Ere he should thus have ventur'd. + CELIA. Gentle cousin, + Let us go thank him, and encourage him; + My father's rough and envious disposition + Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserv'd; + If you do keep your promises in love + But justly as you have exceeded all promise, + Your mistress shall be happy. + ROSALIND. Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck] + Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune, + That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. + Shall we go, coz? + CELIA. Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman. + ORLANDO. Can I not say 'I thank you'? My better parts + Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up + Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. + ROSALIND. He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes; + I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir? + Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown + More than your enemies. + CELIA. Will you go, coz? + ROSALIND. Have with you. Fare you well. + Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA + ORLANDO. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? + I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. + O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! + Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. + + Re-enter LE BEAU + + LE BEAU. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you + To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd + High commendation, true applause, and love, + Yet such is now the Duke's condition + That he misconstrues all that you have done. + The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed, + More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. + ORLANDO. I thank you, sir; and pray you tell me this: + Which of the two was daughter of the Duke + That here was at the wrestling? + LE BEAU. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; + But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter; + The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke, + And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, + To keep his daughter company; whose loves + Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. + But I can tell you that of late this Duke + Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, + Grounded upon no other argument + But that the people praise her for her virtues + And pity her for her good father's sake; + And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady + Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well. + Hereafter, in a better world than this, + I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. + ORLANDO. I rest much bounden to you; fare you well. + Exit LE BEAU + Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; + From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother. + But heavenly Rosalind! Exit + + + + +SCENE III. +The DUKE's palace + +Enter CELIA and ROSALIND + + CELIA. Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! + Not a word? + ROSALIND. Not one to throw at a dog. + CELIA. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; + throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. + ROSALIND. Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should + be lam'd with reasons and the other mad without any. + CELIA. But is all this for your father? + ROSALIND. No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how full of + briers is this working-day world! + CELIA. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday + foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats + will catch them. + ROSALIND. I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my + heart. + CELIA. Hem them away. + ROSALIND. I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and have him. + CELIA. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. + ROSALIND. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. + CELIA. O, a good wish upon you! You will try in time, in despite of + a fall. But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in + good earnest. Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall + into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? + ROSALIND. The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly. + CELIA. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? + By this kind of chase I should hate him, for my father hated his + father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando. + ROSALIND. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. + CELIA. Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well? + + Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS + + ROSALIND. Let me love him for that; and do you love him because I + do. Look, here comes the Duke. + CELIA. With his eyes full of anger. + FREDERICK. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, + And get you from our court. + ROSALIND. Me, uncle? + FREDERICK. You, cousin. + Within these ten days if that thou beest found + So near our public court as twenty miles, + Thou diest for it. + ROSALIND. I do beseech your Grace, + Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me. + If with myself I hold intelligence, + Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; + If that I do not dream, or be not frantic- + As I do trust I am not- then, dear uncle, + Never so much as in a thought unborn + Did I offend your Highness. + FREDERICK. Thus do all traitors; + If their purgation did consist in words, + They are as innocent as grace itself. + Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. + ROSALIND. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor. + Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. + FREDERICK. Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough. + ROSALIND. SO was I when your Highness took his dukedom; + So was I when your Highness banish'd him. + Treason is not inherited, my lord; + Or, if we did derive it from our friends, + What's that to me? My father was no traitor. + Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much + To think my poverty is treacherous. + CELIA. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. + FREDERICK. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, + Else had she with her father rang'd along. + CELIA. I did not then entreat to have her stay; + It was your pleasure, and your own remorse; + I was too young that time to value her, + But now I know her. If she be a traitor, + Why so am I: we still have slept together, + Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; + And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, + Still we went coupled and inseparable. + FREDERICK. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, + Her very silence and her patience, + Speak to the people, and they pity her. + Thou art a fool. She robs thee of thy name; + And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous + When she is gone. Then open not thy lips. + Firm and irrevocable is my doom + Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. + CELIA. Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my liege; + I cannot live out of her company. + FREDERICK. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself. + If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, + And in the greatness of my word, you die. + Exeunt DUKE and LORDS + CELIA. O my poor Rosalind! Whither wilt thou go? + Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. + I charge thee be not thou more griev'd than I am. + ROSALIND. I have more cause. + CELIA. Thou hast not, cousin. + Prithee be cheerful. Know'st thou not the Duke + Hath banish'd me, his daughter? + ROSALIND. That he hath not. + CELIA. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love + Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. + Shall we be sund'red? Shall we part, sweet girl? + No; let my father seek another heir. + Therefore devise with me how we may fly, + Whither to go, and what to bear with us; + And do not seek to take your charge upon you, + To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; + For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, + Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. + ROSALIND. Why, whither shall we go? + CELIA. To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden. + ROSALIND. Alas, what danger will it be to us, + Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! + Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. + CELIA. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, + And with a kind of umber smirch my face; + The like do you; so shall we pass along, + And never stir assailants. + ROSALIND. Were it not better, + Because that I am more than common tall, + That I did suit me all points like a man? + A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, + A boar spear in my hand; and- in my heart + Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will- + We'll have a swashing and a martial outside, + As many other mannish cowards have + That do outface it with their semblances. + CELIA. What shall I call thee when thou art a man? + ROSALIND. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page, + And therefore look you call me Ganymede. + But what will you be call'd? + CELIA. Something that hath a reference to my state: + No longer Celia, but Aliena. + ROSALIND. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal + The clownish fool out of your father's court? + Would he not be a comfort to our travel? + CELIA. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; + Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away, + And get our jewels and our wealth together; + Devise the fittest time and safest way + To hide us from pursuit that will be made + After my flight. Now go we in content + To liberty, and not to banishment. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +The Forest of Arden + +Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three LORDS, like foresters + + DUKE SENIOR. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, + Hath not old custom made this life more sweet + Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods + More free from peril than the envious court? + Here feel we not the penalty of Adam, + The seasons' difference; as the icy fang + And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, + Which when it bites and blows upon my body, + Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say + 'This is no flattery; these are counsellors + That feelingly persuade me what I am.' + Sweet are the uses of adversity, + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; + And this our life, exempt from public haunt, + Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, + Sermons in stones, and good in everything. + I would not change it. + AMIENS. Happy is your Grace, + That can translate the stubbornness of fortune + Into so quiet and so sweet a style. + DUKE SENIOR. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? + And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, + Being native burghers of this desert city, + Should, in their own confines, with forked heads + Have their round haunches gor'd. + FIRST LORD. Indeed, my lord, + The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; + And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp + Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. + To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself + Did steal behind him as he lay along + Under an oak whose antique root peeps out + Upon the brook that brawls along this wood! + To the which place a poor sequest'red stag, + That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, + Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, + The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans + That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat + Almost to bursting; and the big round tears + Cours'd one another down his innocent nose + In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, + Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, + Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook, + Augmenting it with tears. + DUKE SENIOR. But what said Jaques? + Did he not moralize this spectacle? + FIRST LORD. O, yes, into a thousand similes. + First, for his weeping into the needless stream: + 'Poor deer,' quoth he 'thou mak'st a testament + As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more + To that which had too much.' Then, being there alone, + Left and abandoned of his velvet friends: + ''Tis right'; quoth he 'thus misery doth part + The flux of company.' Anon, a careless herd, + Full of the pasture, jumps along by him + And never stays to greet him. 'Ay,' quoth Jaques + 'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; + 'Tis just the fashion. Wherefore do you look + Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?' + Thus most invectively he pierceth through + The body of the country, city, court, + Yea, and of this our life; swearing that we + Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, + To fright the animals, and to kill them up + In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. + DUKE SENIOR. And did you leave him in this contemplation? + SECOND LORD. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting + Upon the sobbing deer. + DUKE SENIOR. Show me the place; + I love to cope him in these sullen fits, + For then he's full of matter. + FIRST LORD. I'll bring you to him straight. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +The DUKE'S palace + +Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS + + FREDERICK. Can it be possible that no man saw them? + It cannot be; some villains of my court + Are of consent and sufferance in this. + FIRST LORD. I cannot hear of any that did see her. + The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, + Saw her abed, and in the morning early + They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress. + SECOND LORD. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft + Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. + Hisperia, the Princess' gentlewoman, + Confesses that she secretly o'erheard + Your daughter and her cousin much commend + The parts and graces of the wrestler + That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; + And she believes, wherever they are gone, + That youth is surely in their company. + FREDERICK. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither. + If he be absent, bring his brother to me; + I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly; + And let not search and inquisition quail + To bring again these foolish runaways. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Before OLIVER'S house + +Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting + + ORLANDO. Who's there? + ADAM. What, my young master? O my gentle master! + O my sweet master! O you memory + Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you here? + Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you? + And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? + Why would you be so fond to overcome + The bonny prizer of the humorous Duke? + Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. + Know you not, master, to some kind of men + Their graces serve them but as enemies? + No more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master, + Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. + O, what a world is this, when what is comely + Envenoms him that bears it! + ORLANDO. Why, what's the matter? + ADAM. O unhappy youth! + Come not within these doors; within this roof + The enemy of all your graces lives. + Your brother- no, no brother; yet the son- + Yet not the son; I will not call him son + Of him I was about to call his father- + Hath heard your praises; and this night he means + To burn the lodging where you use to lie, + And you within it. If he fail of that, + He will have other means to cut you off; + I overheard him and his practices. + This is no place; this house is but a butchery; + Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. + ORLANDO. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? + ADAM. No matter whither, so you come not here. + ORLANDO. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food, + Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce + A thievish living on the common road? + This I must do, or know not what to do; + Yet this I will not do, do how I can. + I rather will subject me to the malice + Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. + ADAM. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns, + The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, + Which I did store to be my foster-nurse, + When service should in my old limbs lie lame, + And unregarded age in corners thrown. + Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, + Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, + Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; + All this I give you. Let me be your servant; + Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; + For in my youth I never did apply + Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, + Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo + The means of weakness and debility; + Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, + Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you; + I'll do the service of a younger man + In all your business and necessities. + ORLANDO. O good old man, how well in thee appears + The constant service of the antique world, + When service sweat for duty, not for meed! + Thou art not for the fashion of these times, + Where none will sweat but for promotion, + And having that do choke their service up + Even with the having; it is not so with thee. + But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree + That cannot so much as a blossom yield + In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. + But come thy ways, we'll go along together, + And ere we have thy youthful wages spent + We'll light upon some settled low content. + ADAM. Master, go on; and I will follow the + To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. + From seventeen years till now almost four-score + Here lived I, but now live here no more. + At seventeen years many their fortunes seek, + But at fourscore it is too late a week; + Yet fortune cannot recompense me better + Than to die well and not my master's debtor. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +The Forest of Arden + +Enter ROSALIND for GANYMEDE, CELIA for ALIENA, and CLOWN alias TOUCHSTONE + + ROSALIND. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! + TOUCHSTONE. I Care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. + ROSALIND. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, + and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as + doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat; + therefore, courage, good Aliena. + CELIA. I pray you bear with me; I cannot go no further. + TOUCHSTONE. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you; + yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you; for I think you + have no money in your purse. + ROSALIND. Well,. this is the Forest of Arden. + TOUCHSTONE. Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at + home I was in a better place; but travellers must be content. + + Enter CORIN and SILVIUS + + ROSALIND. Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here, a + young man and an old in solemn talk. + CORIN. That is the way to make her scorn you still. + SILVIUS. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! + CORIN. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now. + SILVIUS. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, + Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover + As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow. + But if thy love were ever like to mine, + As sure I think did never man love so, + How many actions most ridiculous + Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? + CORIN. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. + SILVIUS. O, thou didst then never love so heartily! + If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly + That ever love did make thee run into, + Thou hast not lov'd; + Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, + Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, + Thou hast not lov'd; + Or if thou hast not broke from company + Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, + Thou hast not lov'd. + O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! Exit Silvius + ROSALIND. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, + I have by hard adventure found mine own. + TOUCHSTONE. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love, I broke my + sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-night to + Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the + cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember + the wooing of peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods, + and giving her them again, said with weeping tears 'Wear these + for my sake.' We that are true lovers run into strange capers; + but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal + in folly. + ROSALIND. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art ware of. + TOUCHSTONE. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break + my shins against it. + ROSALIND. Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion + Is much upon my fashion. + TOUCHSTONE. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. + CELIA. I pray you, one of you question yond man + If he for gold will give us any food; + I faint almost to death. + TOUCHSTONE. Holla, you clown! + ROSALIND. Peace, fool; he's not thy Ensman. + CORIN. Who calls? + TOUCHSTONE. Your betters, sir. + CORIN. Else are they very wretched. + ROSALIND. Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. + CORIN. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. + ROSALIND. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold + Can in this desert place buy entertainment, + Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed. + Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd, + And faints for succour. + CORIN. Fair sir, I pity her, + And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, + My fortunes were more able to relieve her; + But I am shepherd to another man, + And do not shear the fleeces that I graze. + My master is of churlish disposition, + And little recks to find the way to heaven + By doing deeds of hospitality. + Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, + Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now, + By reason of his absence, there is nothing + That you will feed on; but what is, come see, + And in my voice most welcome shall you be. + ROSALIND. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? + CORIN. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, + That little cares for buying any thing. + ROSALIND. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, + Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, + And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. + CELIA. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place, + And willingly could waste my time in it. + CORIN. Assuredly the thing is to be sold. + Go with me; if you like upon report + The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, + I will your very faithful feeder be, + And buy it with your gold right suddenly. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Another part of the forest + +Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and OTHERS + + SONG + AMIENS. Under the greenwood tree + Who loves to lie with me, + And turn his merry note + Unto the sweet bird's throat, + Come hither, come hither, come hither. + Here shall he see + No enemy + But winter and rough weather. + + JAQUES. More, more, I prithee, more. + AMIENS. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. + JAQUES. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy + out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more. + AMIENS. My voice is ragged; I know I cannot please you. + JAQUES. I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. + Come, more; another stanzo. Call you 'em stanzos? + AMIENS. What you will, Monsieur Jaques. + JAQUES. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Will + you sing? + AMIENS. More at your request than to please myself. + JAQUES. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but + that they call compliment is like th' encounter of two dog-apes; + and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks have given him a + penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you + that will not, hold your tongues. + AMIENS. Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the Duke + will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look + you. + JAQUES. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is to + disputable for my company. I think of as many matters as he; but + I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, + come. + + SONG + [All together here] + + Who doth ambition shun, + And loves to live i' th' sun, + Seeking the food he eats, + And pleas'd with what he gets, + Come hither, come hither, come hither. + Here shall he see + No enemy + But winter and rough weather. + + JAQUES. I'll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in + despite of my invention. + AMIENS. And I'll sing it. + JAQUES. Thus it goes: + + If it do come to pass + That any man turn ass, + Leaving his wealth and ease + A stubborn will to please, + Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame; + Here shall he see + Gross fools as he, + An if he will come to me. + + AMIENS. What's that 'ducdame'? + JAQUES. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll + go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the + first-born of Egypt. + AMIENS. And I'll go seek the Duke; his banquet is prepar'd. + Exeunt severally + + + + +SCENE VI. +The forest + +Enter ORLANDO and ADAM + + ADAM. Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! Here lie + I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. + ORLANDO. Why, how now, Adam! No greater heart in thee? Live a + little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth + forest yield anything savage, I will either be food for it or + bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy + powers. For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at the + arm's end. I will here be with the presently; and if I bring thee + not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die; but if thou + diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! + thou look'st cheerly; and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou + liest in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; + and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live + anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VII. +The forest + +A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and LORDS, like outlaws + + DUKE SENIOR. I think he be transform'd into a beast; + For I can nowhere find him like a man. + FIRST LORD. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; + Here was he merry, hearing of a song. + DUKE SENIOR. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, + We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. + Go seek him; tell him I would speak with him. + + Enter JAQUES + + FIRST LORD. He saves my labour by his own approach. + DUKE SENIOR. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, + That your poor friends must woo your company? + What, you look merrily! + JAQUES. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest, + A motley fool. A miserable world! + As I do live by food, I met a fool, + Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, + And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, + In good set terms- and yet a motley fool. + 'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I; 'No, sir,' quoth he, + 'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune.' + And then he drew a dial from his poke, + And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, + Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock; + Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags; + 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine; + And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; + And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, + And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; + And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear + The motley fool thus moral on the time, + My lungs began to crow like chanticleer + That fools should be so deep contemplative; + And I did laugh sans intermission + An hour by his dial. O noble fool! + A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. + DUKE SENIOR. What fool is this? + JAQUES. O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier, + And says, if ladies be but young and fair, + They have the gift to know it; and in his brain, + Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit + After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd + With observation, the which he vents + In mangled forms. O that I were a fool! + I am ambitious for a motley coat. + DUKE SENIOR. Thou shalt have one. + JAQUES. It is my only suit, + Provided that you weed your better judgments + Of all opinion that grows rank in them + That I am wise. I must have liberty + Withal, as large a charter as the wind, + To blow on whom I please, for so fools have; + And they that are most galled with my folly, + They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? + The why is plain as way to parish church: + He that a fool doth very wisely hit + Doth very foolishly, although he smart, + Not to seem senseless of the bob; if not, + The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd + Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. + Invest me in my motley; give me leave + To speak my mind, and I will through and through + Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world, + If they will patiently receive my medicine. + DUKE SENIOR. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. + JAQUES. What, for a counter, would I do but good? + DUKE SENIOR. Most Mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin; + For thou thyself hast been a libertine, + As sensual as the brutish sting itself; + And all th' embossed sores and headed evils + That thou with license of free foot hast caught + Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. + JAQUES. Why, who cries out on pride + That can therein tax any private party? + Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, + Till that the wearer's very means do ebb? + What woman in the city do I name + When that I say the city-woman bears + The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? + Who can come in and say that I mean her, + When such a one as she such is her neighbour? + Or what is he of basest function + That says his bravery is not on my cost, + Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits + His folly to the mettle of my speech? + There then! how then? what then? Let me see wherein + My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, + Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, + Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, + Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here? + + Enter ORLANDO with his sword drawn + + ORLANDO. Forbear, and eat no more. + JAQUES. Why, I have eat none yet. + ORLANDO. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. + JAQUES. Of what kind should this cock come of? + DUKE SENIOR. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress? + Or else a rude despiser of good manners, + That in civility thou seem'st so empty? + ORLANDO. You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point + Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show + Of smooth civility; yet arn I inland bred, + And know some nurture. But forbear, I say; + He dies that touches any of this fruit + Till I and my affairs are answered. + JAQUES. An you will not be answer'd with reason, I must die. + DUKE SENIOR. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force + More than your force move us to gentleness. + ORLANDO. I almost die for food, and let me have it. + DUKE SENIOR. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. + ORLANDO. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you; + I thought that all things had been savage here, + And therefore put I on the countenance + Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are + That in this desert inaccessible, + Under the shade of melancholy boughs, + Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; + If ever you have look'd on better days, + If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, + If ever sat at any good man's feast, + If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, + And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, + Let gentleness my strong enforcement be; + In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. + DUKE SENIOR. True is it that we have seen better days, + And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church, + And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes + Of drops that sacred pity hath engend'red; + And therefore sit you down in gentleness, + And take upon command what help we have + That to your wanting may be minist'red. + ORLANDO. Then but forbear your food a little while, + Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, + And give it food. There is an old poor man + Who after me hath many a weary step + Limp'd in pure love; till he be first suffic'd, + Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, + I will not touch a bit. + DUKE SENIOR. Go find him out. + And we will nothing waste till you return. + ORLANDO. I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! + Exit + DUKE SENIOR. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: + This wide and universal theatre + Presents more woeful pageants than the scene + Wherein we play in. + JAQUES. All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players; + They have their exits and their entrances; + And one man in his time plays many parts, + His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, + Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; + Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel + And shining morning face, creeping like snail + Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, + Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad + Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, + Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, + Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, + Seeking the bubble reputation + Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, + In fair round belly with good capon lin'd, + With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, + Full of wise saws and modern instances; + And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts + Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, + With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, + His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide + For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, + Turning again toward childish treble, pipes + And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, + That ends this strange eventful history, + Is second childishness and mere oblivion; + Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. + + Re-enter ORLANDO with ADAM + + DUKE SENIOR. Welcome. Set down your venerable burden. + And let him feed. + ORLANDO. I thank you most for him. + ADAM. So had you need; + I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. + DUKE SENIOR. Welcome; fall to. I will not trouble you + As yet to question you about your fortunes. + Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. + + SONG + Blow, blow, thou winter wind, + Thou art not so unkind + As man's ingratitude; + Thy tooth is not so keen, + Because thou art not seen, + Although thy breath be rude. + Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly. + Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. + Then, heigh-ho, the holly! + This life is most jolly. + + Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, + That dost not bite so nigh + As benefits forgot; + Though thou the waters warp, + Thy sting is not so sharp + As friend rememb'red not. + Heigh-ho! sing, &c. + + DUKE SENIOR. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, + As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, + And as mine eye doth his effigies witness + Most truly limn'd and living in your face, + Be truly welcome hither. I am the Duke + That lov'd your father. The residue of your fortune, + Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, + Thou art right welcome as thy master is. + Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, + And let me all your fortunes understand. Exeunt + + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +The palace + +Enter DUKE FREDERICK, OLIVER, and LORDS + + FREDERICK. Not see him since! Sir, sir, that cannot be. + But were I not the better part made mercy, + I should not seek an absent argument + Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it: + Find out thy brother wheresoe'er he is; + Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living + Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more + To seek a living in our territory. + Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine + Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, + Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth + Of what we think against thee. + OLIVER. O that your Highness knew my heart in this! + I never lov'd my brother in my life. + FREDERICK. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors; + And let my officers of such a nature + Make an extent upon his house and lands. + Do this expediently, and turn him going. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +The forest + +Enter ORLANDO, with a paper + + ORLANDO. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love; + And thou, thrice-crowned Queen of Night, survey + With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, + Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway. + O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books, + And in their barks my thoughts I'll character, + That every eye which in this forest looks + Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. + Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree, + The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. Exit + + Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE + + CORIN. And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone? + TOUCHSTONE. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good + life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is nought. + In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in + respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in + respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect + it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, + look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty + in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in + thee, shepherd? + CORIN. No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at + ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is + without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet, + and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep; and that a + great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath + learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding, + or comes of a very dull kindred. + TOUCHSTONE. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in + court, shepherd? + CORIN. No, truly. + TOUCHSTONE. Then thou art damn'd. + CORIN. Nay, I hope. + TOUCHSTONE. Truly, thou art damn'd, like an ill-roasted egg, all on + one side. + CORIN. For not being at court? Your reason. + TOUCHSTONE. Why, if thou never wast at court thou never saw'st good + manners; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must + be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art + in a parlous state, shepherd. + CORIN. Not a whit, Touchstone. Those that are good manners at the + court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the + country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not + at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be + uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds. + TOUCHSTONE. Instance, briefly; come, instance. + CORIN. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells, you + know, are greasy. + TOUCHSTONE. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? And is not the + grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, + shallow. A better instance, I say; come. + CORIN. Besides, our hands are hard. + TOUCHSTONE. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A + more sounder instance; come. + CORIN. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our + sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are + perfum'd with civet. + TOUCHSTONE. Most shallow man! thou worm's meat in respect of a good + piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend: civet is + of a baser birth than tar- the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend + the instance, shepherd. + CORIN. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest. + TOUCHSTONE. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God + make incision in thee! thou art raw. + CORIN. Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I + wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other + men's good, content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is + to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck. + TOUCHSTONE. That is another simple sin in you: to bring the ewes + and the rams together, and to offer to get your living by the + copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether, and to betray + a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, + out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not damn'd for this, + the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how + thou shouldst scape. + CORIN. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. + + Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper + + ROSALIND. 'From the east to western Inde, + No jewel is like Rosalinde. + Her worth, being mounted on the wind, + Through all the world bears Rosalinde. + All the pictures fairest lin'd + Are but black to Rosalinde. + Let no face be kept in mind + But the fair of Rosalinde.' + TOUCHSTONE. I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners, and + suppers, and sleeping hours, excepted. It is the right + butter-women's rank to market. + ROSALIND. Out, fool! + TOUCHSTONE. For a taste: + If a hart do lack a hind, + Let him seek out Rosalinde. + If the cat will after kind, + So be sure will Rosalinde. + Winter garments must be lin'd, + So must slender Rosalinde. + They that reap must sheaf and bind, + Then to cart with Rosalinde. + Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, + Such a nut is Rosalinde. + He that sweetest rose will find + Must find love's prick and Rosalinde. + This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you infect + yourself with them? + ROSALIND. Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. + TOUCHSTONE. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. + ROSALIND. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a + medlar. Then it will be the earliest fruit i' th' country; for + you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right + virtue of the medlar. + TOUCHSTONE. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest + judge. + + Enter CELIA, with a writing + + ROSALIND. Peace! + Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside. + CELIA. 'Why should this a desert be? + For it is unpeopled? No; + Tongues I'll hang on every tree + That shall civil sayings show. + Some, how brief the life of man + Runs his erring pilgrimage, + That the streching of a span + Buckles in his sum of age; + Some, of violated vows + 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend; + But upon the fairest boughs, + Or at every sentence end, + Will I Rosalinda write, + Teaching all that read to know + The quintessence of every sprite + Heaven would in little show. + Therefore heaven Nature charg'd + That one body should be fill'd + With all graces wide-enlarg'd. + Nature presently distill'd + Helen's cheek, but not her heart, + Cleopatra's majesty, + Atalanta's better part, + Sad Lucretia's modesty. + Thus Rosalinde of many parts + By heavenly synod was devis'd, + Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, + To have the touches dearest priz'd. + Heaven would that she these gifts should have, + And I to live and die her slave.' + ROSALIND. O most gentle pulpiter! What tedious homily of love have + you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried 'Have + patience, good people.' + CELIA. How now! Back, friends; shepherd, go off a little; go with + him, sirrah. + TOUCHSTONE. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; + though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. + Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE + CELIA. Didst thou hear these verses? + ROSALIND. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them + had in them more feet than the verses would bear. + CELIA. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses. + ROSALIND. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves + without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. + CELIA. But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be + hang'd and carved upon these trees? + ROSALIND. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you + came; for look here what I found on a palm-tree. I was never so + berhym'd since Pythagoras' time that I was an Irish rat, which I + can hardly remember. + CELIA. Trow you who hath done this? + ROSALIND. Is it a man? + CELIA. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. + Change you colour? + ROSALIND. I prithee, who? + CELIA. O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but + mountains may be remov'd with earthquakes, and so encounter. + ROSALIND. Nay, but who is it? + CELIA. Is it possible? + ROSALIND. Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell + me who it is. + CELIA. O wonderful, wonderful, most wonderful wonderful, and yet + again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping! + ROSALIND. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am + caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my + disposition? One inch of delay more is a South Sea of discovery. + I prithee tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would + thou could'st stammer, that thou mightst pour this conceal'd man + out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of narrow-mouth'd bottle- + either too much at once or none at all. I prithee take the cork + out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings. + CELIA. So you may put a man in your belly. + ROSALIND. Is he of God's making? What manner of man? + Is his head worth a hat or his chin worth a beard? + CELIA. Nay, he hath but a little beard. + ROSALIND. Why, God will send more if the man will be thankful. Let + me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the + knowledge of his chin. + CELIA. It is young Orlando, that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels + and your heart both in an instant. + ROSALIND. Nay, but the devil take mocking! Speak sad brow and true + maid. + CELIA. I' faith, coz, 'tis he. + ROSALIND. Orlando? + CELIA. Orlando. + ROSALIND. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? + What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he? How look'd he? + Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where + remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him + again? Answer me in one word. + CELIA. You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first; 'tis a word too + great for any mouth of this age's size. To say ay and no to these + particulars is more than to answer in a catechism. + ROSALIND. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's + apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled? + CELIA. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the + propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my finding him, and + relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like a + dropp'd acorn. + ROSALIND. It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops forth + such fruit. + CELIA. Give me audience, good madam. + ROSALIND. Proceed. + CELIA. There lay he, stretch'd along like a wounded knight. + ROSALIND. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes + the ground. + CELIA. Cry 'Holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets + unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter. + ROSALIND. O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart. + CELIA. I would sing my song without a burden; thou bring'st me out + of tune. + ROSALIND. Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. + Sweet, say on. + CELIA. You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here? + + Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES + + ROSALIND. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him. + JAQUES. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as + lief have been myself alone. + ORLANDO. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too + for your society. + JAQUES. God buy you; let's meet as little as we can. + ORLANDO. I do desire we may be better strangers. + JAQUES. I pray you mar no more trees with writing love songs in + their barks. + ORLANDO. I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them + ill-favouredly. + JAQUES. Rosalind is your love's name? + ORLANDO. Yes, just. + JAQUES. I do not like her name. + ORLANDO. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was + christen'd. + JAQUES. What stature is she of? + ORLANDO. Just as high as my heart. + JAQUES. You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been + acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings? + ORLANDO. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence + you have studied your questions. + JAQUES. You have a nimble wit; I think 'twas made of Atalanta's + heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against + our mistress the world, and all our misery. + ORLANDO. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against + whom I know most faults. + JAQUES. The worst fault you have is to be in love. + ORLANDO. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am + weary of you. + JAQUES. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. + ORLANDO. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see + him. + JAQUES. There I shall see mine own figure. + ORLANDO. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. + JAQUES. I'll tarry no longer with you; farewell, good Signior Love. + ORLANDO. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good Monsieur + Melancholy. + Exit JAQUES + ROSALIND. [Aside to CELIA] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, + and under that habit play the knave with him.- Do you hear, + forester? + ORLANDO. Very well; what would you? + ROSALIND. I pray you, what is't o'clock? + ORLANDO. You should ask me what time o' day; there's no clock in + the forest. + ROSALIND. Then there is no true lover in the forest, else sighing + every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot + of Time as well as a clock. + ORLANDO. And why not the swift foot of Time? Had not that been as + proper? + ROSALIND. By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with + divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time + trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still + withal. + ORLANDO. I prithee, who doth he trot withal? + ROSALIND. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the + contract of her marriage and the day it is solemniz'd; if the + interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems + the length of seven year. + ORLANDO. Who ambles Time withal? + ROSALIND. With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that hath + not the gout; for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study, + and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain; the one + lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other + knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury. These Time ambles + withal. + ORLANDO. Who doth he gallop withal? + ROSALIND. With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly + as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. + ORLANDO. Who stays it still withal? + ROSALIND. With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term + and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves. + ORLANDO. Where dwell you, pretty youth? + ROSALIND. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of + the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. + ORLANDO. Are you native of this place? + ROSALIND. As the coney that you see dwell where she is kindled. + ORLANDO. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in + so removed a dwelling. + ROSALIND. I have been told so of many; but indeed an old religious + uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland + man; one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. + I have heard him read many lectures against it; and I thank God I + am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many giddy offences as he + hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal. + ORLANDO. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid + to the charge of women? + ROSALIND. There were none principal; they were all like one another + as halfpence are; every one fault seeming monstrous till his + fellow-fault came to match it. + ORLANDO. I prithee recount some of them. + ROSALIND. No; I will not cast away my physic but on those that are + sick. There is a man haunts the forest that abuses our young + plants with carving 'Rosalind' on their barks; hangs odes upon + hawthorns and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the + name of Rosalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give + him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love + upon him. + ORLANDO. I am he that is so love-shak'd; I pray you tell me your + remedy. + ROSALIND. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you; he taught me + how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes I am sure you + are not prisoner. + ORLANDO. What were his marks? + ROSALIND. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, + which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; + a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon you for that, + for simply your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue. + Then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your + sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe untied, and every thing about you + demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man; you + are rather point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself + than seeming the lover of any other. + ORLANDO. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. + ROSALIND. Me believe it! You may as soon make her that you love + believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess + she does. That is one of the points in the which women still give + the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that + hangs the verses on the trees wherein Rosalind is so admired? + ORLANDO. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I + am that he, that unfortunate he. + ROSALIND. But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? + ORLANDO. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. + ROSALIND. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as + well a dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why + they are not so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is so + ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing + it by counsel. + ORLANDO. Did you ever cure any so? + ROSALIND. Yes, one; and in this manner. He was to imagine me his + love, his mistress; and I set him every day to woo me; at which + time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, + changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, + shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every + passion something and for no passion truly anything, as boys and + women are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like + him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now + weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his + mad humour of love to a living humour of madness; which was, to + forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a nook + merely monastic. And thus I cur'd him; and this way will I take + upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, + that there shall not be one spot of love in 't. + ORLANDO. I would not be cured, youth. + ROSALIND. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and + come every day to my cote and woo me. + ORLANDO. Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where it is. + ROSALIND. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you; and, by the way, + you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go? + ORLANDO. With all my heart, good youth. + ROSALIND. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you + go? Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +The forest + +Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES behind + + TOUCHSTONE. Come apace, good Audrey; I will fetch up your goats, + Audrey. And how, Audrey, am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature + content you? + AUDREY. Your features! Lord warrant us! What features? + TOUCHSTONE. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most + capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. + JAQUES. [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a + thatch'd house! + TOUCHSTONE. When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's + good wit seconded with the forward child understanding, it + strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. + Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. + AUDREY. I do not know what 'poetical' is. Is it honest in deed and + word? Is it a true thing? + TOUCHSTONE. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning, + and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetry may + be said as lovers they do feign. + AUDREY. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical? + TOUCHSTONE. I do, truly, for thou swear'st to me thou art honest; + now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst + feign. + AUDREY. Would you not have me honest? + TOUCHSTONE. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for honesty + coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar. + JAQUES. [Aside] A material fool! + AUDREY. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me + honest. + TOUCHSTONE. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were + to put good meat into an unclean dish. + AUDREY. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul. + TOUCHSTONE. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness; + sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will + marry thee; and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, + the vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meet me in + this place of the forest, and to couple us. + JAQUES. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting. + AUDREY. Well, the gods give us joy! + TOUCHSTONE. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger + in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no + assembly but horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are + odious, they are necessary. It is said: 'Many a man knows no end + of his goods.' Right! Many a man has good horns and knows no end + of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; 'tis none of his + own getting. Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no; the noblest + deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man therefore + blessed? No; as a wall'd town is more worthier than a village, so + is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare + brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no + skill, by so much is horn more precious than to want. Here comes + Sir Oliver. + + Enter SIR OLIVER MARTEXT + + Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met. Will you dispatch us here + under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel? + MARTEXT. Is there none here to give the woman? + TOUCHSTONE. I will not take her on gift of any man. + MARTEXT. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. + JAQUES. [Discovering himself] Proceed, proceed; I'll give her. + TOUCHSTONE. Good even, good Master What-ye-call't; how do you, sir? + You are very well met. Goddild you for your last company. I am + very glad to see you. Even a toy in hand here, sir. Nay; pray be + cover'd. + JAQUES. Will you be married, motley? + TOUCHSTONE. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and + the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons + bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. + JAQUES. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married + under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to church and have a good + priest that can tell you what marriage is; this fellow will but + join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will + prove a shrunk panel, and like green timber warp, warp. + TOUCHSTONE. [Aside] I am not in the mind but I were better to be + married of him than of another; for he is not like to marry me + well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me + hereafter to leave my wife. + JAQUES. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. + TOUCHSTONE. Come, sweet Audrey; + We must be married or we must live in bawdry. + Farewell, good Master Oliver. Not- + O sweet Oliver, + O brave Oliver, + Leave me not behind thee. + But- + Wind away, + Begone, I say, + I will not to wedding with thee. + Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY + MARTEXT. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all + shall flout me out of my calling. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +The forest + +Enter ROSALIND and CELIA + + ROSALIND. Never talk to me; I will weep. + CELIA. Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears + do not become a man. + ROSALIND. But have I not cause to weep? + CELIA. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. + ROSALIND. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. + CELIA. Something browner than Judas's. + Marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. + ROSALIND. I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. + CELIA. An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour. + ROSALIND. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of + holy bread. + CELIA. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana. A nun of + winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of + chastity is in them. + ROSALIND. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and + comes not? + CELIA. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. + ROSALIND. Do you think so? + CELIA. Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer; but + for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as covered + goblet or a worm-eaten nut. + ROSALIND. Not true in love? + CELIA. Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. + ROSALIND. You have heard him swear downright he was. + CELIA. 'Was' is not 'is'; besides, the oath of a lover is no + stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmer + of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the Duke, + your father. + ROSALIND. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him. + He asked me of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as + he; so he laugh'd and let me go. But what talk we of fathers when + there is such a man as Orlando? + CELIA. O, that's a brave man! He writes brave verses, speaks brave + words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite + traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that + spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble + goose. But all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides. Who + comes here? + + Enter CORIN + + CORIN. Mistress and master, you have oft enquired + After the shepherd that complain'd of love, + Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, + Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess + That was his mistress. + CELIA. Well, and what of him? + CORIN. If you will see a pageant truly play'd + Between the pale complexion of true love + And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, + Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you, + If you will mark it. + ROSALIND. O, come, let us remove! + The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. + Bring us to this sight, and you shall say + I'll prove a busy actor in their play. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Another part of the forest + +Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE + + SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe. + Say that you love me not; but say not so + In bitterness. The common executioner, + Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard, + Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck + But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be + Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? + + Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, at a distance + + PHEBE. I would not be thy executioner; + I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. + Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye. + 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, + That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, + Who shut their coward gates on atomies, + Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! + Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; + And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee. + Now counterfeit to swoon; why, now fall down; + Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, + Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. + Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee. + Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains + Some scar of it; lean upon a rush, + The cicatrice and capable impressure + Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes, + Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; + Nor, I am sure, there is not force in eyes + That can do hurt. + SILVIUS. O dear Phebe, + If ever- as that ever may be near- + You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, + Then shall you know the wounds invisible + That love's keen arrows make. + PHEBE. But till that time + Come not thou near me; and when that time comes, + Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; + As till that time I shall not pity thee. + ROSALIND. [Advancing] And why, I pray you? Who might be your + mother, + That you insult, exult, and all at once, + Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty- + As, by my faith, I see no more in you + Than without candle may go dark to bed- + Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? + Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? + I see no more in you than in the ordinary + Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life, + I think she means to tangle my eyes too! + No faith, proud mistress, hope not after it; + 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, + Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream, + That can entame my spirits to your worship. + You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, + Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain? + You are a thousand times a properer man + Than she a woman. 'Tis such fools as you + That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children. + 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; + And out of you she sees herself more proper + Than any of her lineaments can show her. + But, mistress, know yourself. Down on your knees, + And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love; + For I must tell you friendly in your ear: + Sell when you can; you are not for all markets. + Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer; + Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. + So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well. + PHEBE. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together; + I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. + ROSALIND. He's fall'n in love with your foulness, and she'll fall + in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee + with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words. Why look + you so upon me? + PHEBE. For no ill will I bear you. + ROSALIND. I pray you do not fall in love with me, + For I am falser than vows made in wine; + Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, + 'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by. + Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard. + Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better, + And be not proud; though all the world could see, + None could be so abus'd in sight as he. + Come, to our flock. Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN + PHEBE. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might: + 'Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?' + SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe. + PHEBE. Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius? + SILVIUS. Sweet Phebe, pity me. + PHEBE. Why, I arn sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. + SILVIUS. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be. + If you do sorrow at my grief in love, + By giving love, your sorrow and my grief + Were both extermin'd. + PHEBE. Thou hast my love; is not that neighbourly? + SILVIUS. I would have you. + PHEBE. Why, that were covetousness. + Silvius, the time was that I hated thee; + And yet it is not that I bear thee love; + But since that thou canst talk of love so well, + Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, + I will endure; and I'll employ thee too. + But do not look for further recompense + Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. + SILVIUS. So holy and so perfect is my love, + And I in such a poverty of grace, + That I shall think it a most plenteous crop + To glean the broken ears after the man + That the main harvest reaps; loose now and then + A scatt'red smile, and that I'll live upon. + PHEBE. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile? + SILVIUS. Not very well; but I have met him oft; + And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds + That the old carlot once was master of. + PHEBE. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; + 'Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well. + But what care I for words? Yet words do well + When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. + It is a pretty youth- not very pretty; + But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him. + He'll make a proper man. The best thing in him + Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue + Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. + He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall; + His leg is but so-so; and yet 'tis well. + There was a pretty redness in his lip, + A little riper and more lusty red + Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference + Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. + There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him + In parcels as I did, would have gone near + To fall in love with him; but, for my part, + I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet + I have more cause to hate him than to love him; + For what had he to do to chide at me? + He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black, + And, now I am rememb'red, scorn'd at me. + I marvel why I answer'd not again; + But that's all one: omittance is no quittance. + I'll write to him a very taunting letter, + And thou shalt bear it; wilt thou, Silvius? + SILVIUS. Phebe, with all my heart. + PHEBE. I'll write it straight; + The matter's in my head and in my heart; + I will be bitter with him and passing short. + Go with me, Silvius. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +The forest + +Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES + + JAQUES. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with + thee. + ROSALIND. They say you are a melancholy fellow. + JAQUES. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. + ROSALIND. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable + fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than + drunkards. + JAQUES. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. + ROSALIND. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. + JAQUES. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is + emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the + courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is + ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, + which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these; but it is a + melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted + from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my + travels; in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous + sadness. + ROSALIND. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be + sad. I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's; then + to have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and + poor hands. + JAQUES. Yes, I have gain'd my experience. + + Enter ORLANDO + + ROSALIND. And your experience makes you sad. I had rather have a + fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad- and to + travel for it too. + ORLANDO. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind! + JAQUES. Nay, then, God buy you, an you talk in blank verse. + ROSALIND. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller; look you lisp and wear + strange suits, disable all the benefits of your own country, be + out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for making + you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think you have + swam in a gondola. [Exit JAQUES] Why, how now, Orlando! where + have you been all this while? You a lover! An you serve me such + another trick, never come in my sight more. + ORLANDO. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. + ROSALIND. Break an hour's promise in love! He that will divide a + minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the + thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said + of him that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' th' shoulder, but I'll + warrant him heart-whole. + ORLANDO. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. + ROSALIND. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had + as lief be woo'd of a snail. + ORLANDO. Of a snail! + ROSALIND. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries + his house on his head- a better jointure, I think, than you make + a woman; besides, he brings his destiny with him. + ORLANDO. What's that? + ROSALIND. Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be beholding to + your wives for; but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents + the slander of his wife. + ORLANDO. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous. + ROSALIND. And I am your Rosalind. + CELIA. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a + better leer than you. + ROSALIND. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour, + and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I + were your very very Rosalind? + ORLANDO. I would kiss before I spoke. + ROSALIND. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were + gravell'd for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. + Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for + lovers lacking- God warn us!- matter, the cleanliest shift is to + kiss. + ORLANDO. How if the kiss be denied? + ROSALIND. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new + matter. + ORLANDO. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? + ROSALIND. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I + should think my honesty ranker than my wit. + ORLANDO. What, of my suit? + ROSALIND. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. + Am not I your Rosalind? + ORLANDO. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking + of her. + ROSALIND. Well, in her person, I say I will not have you. + ORLANDO. Then, in mine own person, I die. + ROSALIND. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six + thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man + died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had + his brains dash'd out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he + could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love. + Leander, he would have liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had + turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for, + good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, + being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and the foolish + chroniclers of that age found it was- Hero of Sestos. But these + are all lies: men have died from time to time, and worms have + eaten them, but not for love. + ORLANDO. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I + protest, her frown might kill me. + ROSALIND. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I + will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition; and ask me + what you will, I will grant it. + ORLANDO. Then love me, Rosalind. + ROSALIND. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays, and all. + ORLANDO. And wilt thou have me? + ROSALIND. Ay, and twenty such. + ORLANDO. What sayest thou? + ROSALIND. Are you not good? + ORLANDO. I hope so. + ROSALIND. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come, + sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your hand, + Orlando. What do you say, sister? + ORLANDO. Pray thee, marry us. + CELIA. I cannot say the words. + ROSALIND. You must begin 'Will you, Orlando'- + CELIA. Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind? + ORLANDO. I will. + ROSALIND. Ay, but when? + ORLANDO. Why, now; as fast as she can marry us. + ROSALIND. Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.' + ORLANDO. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. + ROSALIND. I might ask you for your commission; but- I do take thee, + Orlando, for my husband. There's a girl goes before the priest; + and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions. + ORLANDO. So do all thoughts; they are wing'd. + ROSALIND. Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have + possess'd her. + ORLANDO. For ever and a day. + ROSALIND. Say 'a day' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; men are + April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when + they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will + be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen, + more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more new-fangled than + an ape, more giddy in my desires than a monkey. I will weep for + nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you + are dispos'd to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when + thou are inclin'd to sleep. + ORLANDO. But will my Rosalind do so? + ROSALIND. By my life, she will do as I do. + ORLANDO. O, but she is wise. + ROSALIND. Or else she could not have the wit to do this. The wiser, + the waywarder. Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out + at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop + that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney. + ORLANDO. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say 'Wit, + whither wilt?' ROSALIND. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your + wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed. + ORLANDO. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? + ROSALIND. Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never + take her without her answer, unless you take her without her + tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's + occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will + breed it like a fool! + ORLANDO. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. + ROSALIND. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours! + ORLANDO. I must attend the Duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be + with thee again. + ROSALIND. Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you would + prove; my friends told me as much, and I thought no less. That + flattering tongue of yours won me. 'Tis but one cast away, and + so, come death! Two o'clock is your hour? + ORLANDO. Ay, sweet Rosalind. + ROSALIND. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and + by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot + of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will + think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow + lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may + be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful. Therefore + beware my censure, and keep your promise. + ORLANDO. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my + Rosalind; so, adieu. + ROSALIND. Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such + offenders, and let Time try. Adieu. Exit ORLANDO + CELIA. You have simply misus'd our sex in your love-prate. We must + have your doublet and hose pluck'd over your head, and show the + world what the bird hath done to her own nest. + ROSALIND. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst + know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; + my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal. + CELIA. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection + in, it runs out. + ROSALIND. No; that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of + thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madness; that blind + rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are + out- let him be judge how deep I am in love. I'll tell thee, + Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando. I'll go find a + shadow, and sigh till he come. + CELIA. And I'll sleep. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +The forest + + Enter JAQUES and LORDS, in the habit of foresters + + JAQUES. Which is he that killed the deer? + LORD. Sir, it was I. + JAQUES. Let's present him to the Duke, like a Roman conqueror; and + it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head for a + branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose? + LORD. Yes, sir. + JAQUES. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise + enough. + + SONG. + + What shall he have that kill'd the deer? + His leather skin and horns to wear. + [The rest shall hear this burden:] + Then sing him home. + + Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; + It was a crest ere thou wast born. + Thy father's father wore it; + And thy father bore it. + The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, + Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +The forest + +Enter ROSALIND and CELIA + + ROSALIND. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? + And here much Orlando! + CELIA. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath + ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth- to sleep. Look, who + comes here. + + Enter SILVIUS + + SILVIUS. My errand is to you, fair youth; + My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this. + I know not the contents; but, as I guess + By the stern brow and waspish action + Which she did use as she was writing of it, + It bears an angry tenour. Pardon me, + I am but as a guiltless messenger. + ROSALIND. Patience herself would startle at this letter, + And play the swaggerer. Bear this, bear all. + She says I am not fair, that I lack manners; + She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, + Were man as rare as Phoenix. 'Od's my will! + Her love is not the hare that I do hunt; + Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, + This is a letter of your own device. + SILVIUS. No, I protest, I know not the contents; + Phebe did write it. + ROSALIND. Come, come, you are a fool, + And turn'd into the extremity of love. + I saw her hand; she has a leathern hand, + A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think + That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands; + She has a huswife's hand- but that's no matter. + I say she never did invent this letter: + This is a man's invention, and his hand. + SILVIUS. Sure, it is hers. + ROSALIND. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style; + A style for challengers. Why, she defies me, + Like Turk to Christian. Women's gentle brain + Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, + Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect + Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? + SILVIUS. So please you, for I never heard it yet; + Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. + ROSALIND. She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. + [Reads] + + 'Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, + That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?' + + Can a woman rail thus? + SILVIUS. Call you this railing? + ROSALIND. 'Why, thy godhead laid apart, + Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?' + + Did you ever hear such railing? + + 'Whiles the eye of man did woo me, + That could do no vengeance to me.' + + Meaning me a beast. + + 'If the scorn of your bright eyne + Have power to raise such love in mine, + Alack, in me what strange effect + Would they work in mild aspect! + Whiles you chid me, I did love; + How then might your prayers move! + He that brings this love to the + Little knows this love in me; + And by him seal up thy mind, + Whether that thy youth and kind + Will the faithful offer take + Of me and all that I can make; + Or else by him my love deny, + And then I'll study how to die.' + SILVIUS. Call you this chiding? + CELIA. Alas, poor shepherd! + ROSALIND. Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love + such a woman? What, to make thee an instrument, and play false + strains upon thee! Not to be endur'd! Well, go your way to her, + for I see love hath made thee tame snake, and say this to her- + that if she love me, I charge her to love thee; if she will not, + I will never have her unless thou entreat for her. If you be a + true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. + Exit SILVIUS + + Enter OLIVER + + OLIVER. Good morrow, fair ones; pray you, if you know, + Where in the purlieus of this forest stands + A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees? + CELIA. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom. + The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream + Left on your right hand brings you to the place. + But at this hour the house doth keep itself; + There's none within. + OLIVER. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, + Then should I know you by description- + Such garments, and such years: 'The boy is fair, + Of female favour, and bestows himself + Like a ripe sister; the woman low, + And browner than her brother.' Are not you + The owner of the house I did inquire for? + CELIA. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are. + OLIVER. Orlando doth commend him to you both; + And to that youth he calls his Rosalind + He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? + ROSALIND. I am. What must we understand by this? + OLIVER. Some of my shame; if you will know of me + What man I am, and how, and why, and where, + This handkercher was stain'd. + CELIA. I pray you, tell it. + OLIVER. When last the young Orlando parted from you, + He left a promise to return again + Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest, + Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, + Lo, what befell! He threw his eye aside, + And mark what object did present itself. + Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, + And high top bald with dry antiquity, + A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, + Lay sleeping on his back. About his neck + A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself, + Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd + The opening of his mouth; but suddenly, + Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, + And with indented glides did slip away + Into a bush; under which bush's shade + A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, + Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, + When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis + The royal disposition of that beast + To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. + This seen, Orlando did approach the man, + And found it was his brother, his elder brother. + CELIA. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother; + And he did render him the most unnatural + That liv'd amongst men. + OLIVER. And well he might so do, + For well I know he was unnatural. + ROSALIND. But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, + Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness? + OLIVER. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so; + But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, + And nature, stronger than his just occasion, + Made him give battle to the lioness, + Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling + From miserable slumber I awak'd. + CELIA. Are you his brother? + ROSALIND. Was't you he rescu'd? + CELIA. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him? + OLIVER. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I. I do not shame + To tell you what I was, since my conversion + So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. + ROSALIND. But for the bloody napkin? + OLIVER. By and by. + When from the first to last, betwixt us two, + Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, + As how I came into that desert place- + In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke, + Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, + Committing me unto my brother's love; + Who led me instantly unto his cave, + There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm + The lioness had torn some flesh away, + Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, + And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. + Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound, + And, after some small space, being strong at heart, + He sent me hither, stranger as I am, + To tell this story, that you might excuse + His broken promise, and to give this napkin, + Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth + That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. + [ROSALIND swoons] + CELIA. Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede! + OLIVER. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. + CELIA. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede! + OLIVER. Look, he recovers. + ROSALIND. I would I were at home. + CELIA. We'll lead you thither. + I pray you, will you take him by the arm? + OLIVER. Be of good cheer, youth. You a man! + You lack a man's heart. + ROSALIND. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think + this was well counterfeited. I pray you tell your brother how + well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho! + OLIVER. This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony in + your complexion that it was a passion of earnest. + ROSALIND. Counterfeit, I assure you. + OLIVER. Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man. + ROSALIND. So I do; but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by + right. + CELIA. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you draw homewards. + Good sir, go with us. + OLIVER. That will I, for I must bear answer back + How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. + ROSALIND. I shall devise something; but, I pray you, commend my + counterfeiting to him. Will you go? Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +The forest + +Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY + + TOUCHSTONE. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. + AUDREY. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old + gentleman's saying. + TOUCHSTONE. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. + But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to + you. + AUDREY. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the + world; here comes the man you mean. + + Enter WILLIAM + + TOUCHSTONE. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth, + we that have good wits have much to answer for: we shall be + flouting; we cannot hold. + WILLIAM. Good ev'n, Audrey. + AUDREY. God ye good ev'n, William. + WILLIAM. And good ev'n to you, sir. + TOUCHSTONE. Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy + head; nay, prithee be cover'd. How old are you, friend? + WILLIAM. Five and twenty, sir. + TOUCHSTONE. A ripe age. Is thy name William? + WILLIAM. William, sir. + TOUCHSTONE. A fair name. Wast born i' th' forest here? + WILLIAM. Ay, sir, I thank God. + TOUCHSTONE. 'Thank God.' A good answer. + Art rich? + WILLIAM. Faith, sir, so so. + TOUCHSTONE. 'So so' is good, very good, very excellent good; and + yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise? + WILLIAM. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. + TOUCHSTONE. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a saying: 'The + fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be + a fool.' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a + grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning + thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You do + love this maid? + WILLIAM. I do, sir. + TOUCHSTONE. Give me your hand. Art thou learned? + WILLIAM. No, sir. + TOUCHSTONE. Then learn this of me: to have is to have; for it is a + figure in rhetoric that drink, being pour'd out of cup into a + glass, by filling the one doth empty the other; for all your + writers do consent that ipse is he; now, you are not ipse, for I + am he. + WILLIAM. Which he, sir? + TOUCHSTONE. He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you + clown, abandon- which is in the vulgar leave- the society- which + in the boorish is company- of this female- which in the common is + woman- which together is: abandon the society of this female; or, + clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; + or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into + death, thy liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with thee, + or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; + will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and + fifty ways; therefore tremble and depart. + AUDREY. Do, good William. + WILLIAM. God rest you merry, sir. Exit + + Enter CORIN + + CORIN. Our master and mistress seeks you; come away, away. + TOUCHSTONE. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey. I attend, I attend. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +The forest + +Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER + + ORLANDO. Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you should + like her? that but seeing you should love her? and loving woo? + and, wooing, she should grant? and will you persever to enjoy + her? + OLIVER. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty + of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden + consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her that she + loves me; consent with both that we may enjoy each other. It + shall be to your good; for my father's house and all the revenue + that was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you, and here live + and die a shepherd. + ORLANDO. You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow. + Thither will I invite the Duke and all's contented followers. Go + you and prepare Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind. + + Enter ROSALIND + + ROSALIND. God save you, brother. + OLIVER. And you, fair sister. Exit + ROSALIND. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear + thy heart in a scarf! + ORLANDO. It is my arm. + ROSALIND. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a + lion. + ORLANDO. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. + ROSALIND. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon + when he show'd me your handkercher? + ORLANDO. Ay, and greater wonders than that. + ROSALIND. O, I know where you are. Nay, 'tis true. There was never + any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams and Caesar's + thrasonical brag of 'I came, saw, and overcame.' For your brother + and my sister no sooner met but they look'd; no sooner look'd but + they lov'd; no sooner lov'd but they sigh'd; no sooner sigh'd but + they ask'd one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but + they sought the remedy- and in these degrees have they made pair + of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else + be incontinent before marriage. They are in the very wrath of + love, and they will together. Clubs cannot part them. + ORLANDO. They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the Duke + to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into + happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I + to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I + shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for. + ROSALIND. Why, then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for + Rosalind? + ORLANDO. I can live no longer by thinking. + ROSALIND. I will weary you, then, no longer with idle talking. Know + of me then- for now I speak to some purpose- that I know you are + a gentleman of good conceit. I speak not this that you should + bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you + are; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some + little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, and + not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can do + strange things. I have, since I was three year old, convers'd + with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable. + If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries + it out, when your brother marries Aliena shall you marry her. I + know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not + impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set + her before your eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without any + danger. + ORLANDO. Speak'st thou in sober meanings? + ROSALIND. By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I + am a magician. Therefore put you in your best array, bid your + friends; for if you will be married to-morrow, you shall; and to + Rosalind, if you will. + + Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE + + Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers. + PHEBE. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness + To show the letter that I writ to you. + ROSALIND. I care not if I have. It is my study + To seem despiteful and ungentle to you. + You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd; + Look upon him, love him; he worships you. + PHEBE. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. + SILVIUS. It is to be all made of sighs and tears; + And so am I for Phebe. + PHEBE. And I for Ganymede. + ORLANDO. And I for Rosalind. + ROSALIND. And I for no woman. + SILVIUS. It is to be all made of faith and service; + And so am I for Phebe. + PHEBE. And I for Ganymede. + ORLANDO. And I for Rosalind. + ROSALIND. And I for no woman. + SILVIUS. It is to be all made of fantasy, + All made of passion, and all made of wishes; + All adoration, duty, and observance, + All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, + All purity, all trial, all obedience; + And so am I for Phebe. + PHEBE. And so am I for Ganymede. + ORLANDO. And so am I for Rosalind. + ROSALIND. And so am I for no woman. + PHEBE. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? + SILVIUS. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? + ORLANDO. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? + ROSALIND. Why do you speak too, 'Why blame you me to love you?' + ORLANDO. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. + ROSALIND. Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling of Irish + wolves against the moon. [To SILVIUS] I will help you if I can. + [To PHEBE] I would love you if I could.- To-morrow meet me all + together. [ To PHEBE ] I will marry you if ever I marry woman, + and I'll be married to-morrow. [To ORLANDO] I will satisfy you if + ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow. [To + Silvius] I will content you if what pleases you contents you, and + you shall be married to-morrow. [To ORLANDO] As you love + Rosalind, meet. [To SILVIUS] As you love Phebe, meet;- and as I + love no woman, I'll meet. So, fare you well; I have left you + commands. + SILVIUS. I'll not fail, if I live. + PHEBE. Nor I. + ORLANDO. Nor I. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +The forest + +Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY + + TOUCHSTONE. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audre'y; to-morrow will we + be married. + AUDREY. I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no + dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. Here come + two of the banish'd Duke's pages. + + Enter two PAGES + + FIRST PAGE. Well met, honest gentleman. + TOUCHSTONE. By my troth, well met. Come sit, sit, and a song. + SECOND PAGE. We are for you; sit i' th' middle. + FIRST PAGE. Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking, or + spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues + to a bad voice? + SECOND PAGE. I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, like two gipsies + on a horse. + + SONG. + It was a lover and his lass, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + That o'er the green corn-field did pass + In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, + When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. + Sweet lovers love the spring. + + Between the acres of the rye, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + These pretty country folks would lie, + In the spring time, &c. + + This carol they began that hour, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + How that a life was but a flower, + In the spring time, &c. + + And therefore take the present time, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + For love is crowned with the prime, + In the spring time, &c. + + TOUCHSTONE. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great + matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable. + FIRST PAGE. YOU are deceiv'd, sir; we kept time, we lost not our + time. + TOUCHSTONE. By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such + a foolish song. God buy you; and God mend your voices. Come, + Audrey. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +The forest + +Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA + + DUKE SENIOR. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy + Can do all this that he hath promised? + ORLANDO. I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not: + As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. + + Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE + + ROSALIND. Patience once more, whiles our compact is urg'd: + You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, + You will bestow her on Orlando here? + DUKE SENIOR. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. + ROSALIND. And you say you will have her when I bring her? + ORLANDO. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. + ROSALIND. You say you'll marry me, if I be willing? + PHEBE. That will I, should I die the hour after. + ROSALIND. But if you do refuse to marry me, + You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? + PHEBE. So is the bargain. + ROSALIND. You say that you'll have Phebe, if she will? + SILVIUS. Though to have her and death were both one thing. + ROSALIND. I have promis'd to make all this matter even. + Keep you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter; + You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter; + Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me, + Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd; + Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her + If she refuse me; and from hence I go, + To make these doubts all even. + Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA + DUKE SENIOR. I do remember in this shepherd boy + Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. + ORLANDO. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him + Methought he was a brother to your daughter. + But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, + And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments + Of many desperate studies by his uncle, + Whom he reports to be a great magician, + Obscured in the circle of this forest. + + Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY + + JAQUES. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are + coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts which + in all tongues are call'd fools. + TOUCHSTONE. Salutation and greeting to you all! + JAQUES. Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded + gentleman that I have so often met in the forest. He hath been a + courtier, he swears. + TOUCHSTONE. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. + I have trod a measure; I have flatt'red a lady; I have been + politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone + three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought + one. + JAQUES. And how was that ta'en up? + TOUCHSTONE. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the + seventh cause. + JAQUES. How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow. + DUKE SENIOR. I like him very well. + TOUCHSTONE. God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in + here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear + and to forswear, according as marriage binds and blood breaks. A + poor virgin, sir, an ill-favour'd thing, sir, but mine own; a + poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that man else will. Rich + honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl + in your foul oyster. + DUKE SENIOR. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. + TOUCHSTONE. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet + diseases. + JAQUES. But, for the seventh cause: how did you find the quarrel on + the seventh cause? + TOUCHSTONE. Upon a lie seven times removed- bear your body more + seeming, Audrey- as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain + courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said his beard was not + cut well, he was in the mind it was. This is call'd the Retort + Courteous. If I sent him word again it was not well cut, he would + send me word he cut it to please himself. This is call'd the Quip + Modest. If again it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment. + This is call'd the Reply Churlish. If again it was not well cut, + he would answer I spake not true. This is call'd the Reproof + Valiant. If again it was not well cut, he would say I lie. This + is call'd the Countercheck Quarrelsome. And so to the Lie + Circumstantial and the Lie Direct. + JAQUES. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? + TOUCHSTONE. I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor + he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measur'd swords + and parted. + JAQUES. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? + TOUCHSTONE. O, sir, we quarrel in print by the book, as you have + books for good manners. I will name you the degrees. The first, + the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the + Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the + Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; + the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie + Direct; and you may avoid that too with an If. I knew when seven + justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the parties were + met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as: 'If you + said so, then I said so.' And they shook hands, and swore + brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If. + JAQUES. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? + He's as good at any thing, and yet a fool. + DUKE SENIOR. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the + presentation of that he shoots his wit: + + Enter HYMEN, ROSALIND, and CELIA. Still MUSIC + + HYMEN. Then is there mirth in heaven, + When earthly things made even + Atone together. + Good Duke, receive thy daughter; + Hymen from heaven brought her, + Yea, brought her hither, + That thou mightst join her hand with his, + Whose heart within his bosom is. + ROSALIND. [To DUKE] To you I give myself, for I am yours. + [To ORLANDO] To you I give myself, for I am yours. + DUKE SENIOR. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. + ORLANDO. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. + PHEBE. If sight and shape be true, + Why then, my love adieu! + ROSALIND. I'll have no father, if you be not he; + I'll have no husband, if you be not he; + Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. + HYMEN. Peace, ho! I bar confusion; + 'Tis I must make conclusion + Of these most strange events. + Here's eight that must take hands + To join in Hymen's bands, + If truth holds true contents. + You and you no cross shall part; + You and you are heart in heart; + You to his love must accord, + Or have a woman to your lord; + You and you are sure together, + As the winter to foul weather. + Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, + Feed yourselves with questioning, + That reason wonder may diminish, + How thus we met, and these things finish. + + SONG + Wedding is great Juno's crown; + O blessed bond of board and bed! + 'Tis Hymen peoples every town; + High wedlock then be honoured. + Honour, high honour, and renown, + To Hymen, god of every town! + + DUKE SENIOR. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! + Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. + PHEBE. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; + Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. + + Enter JAQUES de BOYS + + JAQUES de BOYS. Let me have audience for a word or two. + I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, + That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. + Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day + Men of great worth resorted to this forest, + Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot, + In his own conduct, purposely to take + His brother here, and put him to the sword; + And to the skirts of this wild wood he came, + Where, meeting with an old religious man, + After some question with him, was converted + Both from his enterprise and from the world; + His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, + And all their lands restor'd to them again + That were with him exil'd. This to be true + I do engage my life. + DUKE SENIOR. Welcome, young man. + Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: + To one, his lands withheld; and to the other, + A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. + First, in this forest let us do those ends + That here were well begun and well begot; + And after, every of this happy number, + That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us, + Shall share the good of our returned fortune, + According to the measure of their states. + Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity, + And fall into our rustic revelry. + Play, music; and you brides and bridegrooms all, + With measure heap'd in joy, to th' measures fall. + JAQUES. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, + The Duke hath put on a religious life, + And thrown into neglect the pompous court. + JAQUES DE BOYS. He hath. + JAQUES. To him will I. Out of these convertites + There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. + [To DUKE] You to your former honour I bequeath; + Your patience and your virtue well deserves it. + [To ORLANDO] You to a love that your true faith doth merit; + [To OLIVER] You to your land, and love, and great allies + [To SILVIUS] You to a long and well-deserved bed; + [To TOUCHSTONE] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage + Is but for two months victuall'd.- So to your pleasures; + I am for other than for dancing measures. + DUKE SENIOR. Stay, Jaques, stay. + JAQUES. To see no pastime I. What you would have + I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. Exit + DUKE SENIOR. Proceed, proceed. We will begin these rites, + As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. [A dance] Exeunt + +EPILOGUE + EPILOGUE. + ROSALIND. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but + it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it + be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play + needs no epilogue. Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and + good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a + case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot + insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not + furnish'd like a beggar; therefore to beg will not become me. My + way is to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge + you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of + this play as please you; and I charge you, O men, for the love + you bear to women- as I perceive by your simp'ring none of you + hates them- that between you and the women the play may please. + If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that + pleas'd me, complexions that lik'd me, and breaths that I defied + not; and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, + or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, + bid me farewell. + +THE END + + + + + +1593 + +THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + +by William Shakespeare + + + +<> + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +SOLINUS, Duke of Ephesus +AEGEON, a merchant of Syracuse + +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS twin brothers and sons to +ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE Aegion and Aemelia + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS twin brothers, and attendants on +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE the two Antipholuses + +BALTHAZAR, a merchant +ANGELO, a goldsmith +FIRST MERCHANT, friend to Antipholus of Syracuse +SECOND MERCHANT, to whom Angelo is a debtor +PINCH, a schoolmaster + +AEMILIA, wife to AEgeon; an abbess at Ephesus +ADRIANA, wife to Antipholus of Ephesus +LUCIANA, her sister +LUCE, servant to Adriana + +A COURTEZAN + +Gaoler, Officers, Attendants + + + + + +SCENE: +Ephesus + + +<> + + + + +THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + +ACT I. SCENE 1 + +A hall in the DUKE'S palace + +Enter the DUKE OF EPHESUS, AEGEON, the Merchant +of Syracuse, GAOLER, OFFICERS, and other ATTENDANTS + +AEGEON. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, + And by the doom of death end woes and all. +DUKE. Merchant of Syracuse, plead no more; + I am not partial to infringe our laws. + The enmity and discord which of late + Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke + To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, + Who, wanting guilders to redeem their lives, + Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods, + Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks. + For, since the mortal and intestine jars + 'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us, + It hath in solemn synods been decreed, + Both by the Syracusians and ourselves, + To admit no traffic to our adverse towns; + Nay, more: if any born at Ephesus + Be seen at any Syracusian marts and fairs; + Again, if any Syracusian born + Come to the bay of Ephesus-he dies, + His goods confiscate to the Duke's dispose, + Unless a thousand marks be levied, + To quit the penalty and to ransom him. + Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, + Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; + Therefore by law thou art condemn'd to die. +AEGEON. Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, + My woes end likewise with the evening sun. +DUKE. Well, Syracusian, say in brief the cause + Why thou departed'st from thy native home, + And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus. +AEGEON. A heavier task could not have been impos'd + Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable; + Yet, that the world may witness that my end + Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, + I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. + In Syracuse was I born, and wed + Unto a woman, happy but for me, + And by me, had not our hap been bad. + With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd + By prosperous voyages I often made + To Epidamnum; till my factor's death, + And the great care of goods at random left, + Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse: + From whom my absence was not six months old, + Before herself, almost at fainting under + The pleasing punishment that women bear, + Had made provision for her following me, + And soon and safe arrived where I was. + There had she not been long but she became + A joyful mother of two goodly sons; + And, which was strange, the one so like the other + As could not be disdnguish'd but by names. + That very hour, and in the self-same inn, + A mean woman was delivered + Of such a burden, male twins, both alike. + Those, for their parents were exceeding poor, + I bought, and brought up to attend my sons. + My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys, + Made daily motions for our home return; + Unwilling, I agreed. Alas! too soon + We came aboard. + A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd + Before the always-wind-obeying deep + Gave any tragic instance of our harm: + But longer did we not retain much hope, + For what obscured light the heavens did grant + Did but convey unto our fearful minds + A doubtful warrant of immediate death; + Which though myself would gladly have embrac'd, + Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, + Weeping before for what she saw must come, + And piteous plainings of the pretty babes, + That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear, + Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me. + And this it was, for other means was none: + The sailors sought for safety by our boat, + And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us; + My wife, more careful for the latter-born, + Had fast'ned him unto a small spare mast, + Such as sea-faring men provide for storms; + To him one of the other twins was bound, + Whilst I had been like heedful of the other. + The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I, + Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd, + Fast'ned ourselves at either end the mast, + And, floating straight, obedient to the stream, + Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought. + At length the sun, gazing upon the earth, + Dispers'd those vapours that offended us; + And, by the benefit of his wished light, + The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered + Two ships from far making amain to us- + Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this. + But ere they came-O, let me say no more! + Gather the sequel by that went before. +DUKE. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so; + For we may pity, though not pardon thee. +AEGEON. O, had the gods done so, I had not now + Worthily term'd them merciless to us! + For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, + We were encount'red by a mighty rock, + Which being violently borne upon, + Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst; + So that, in this unjust divorce of us, + Fortune had left to both of us alike + What to delight in, what to sorrow for. + Her part, poor soul, seeming as burdened + With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe, + Was carried with more speed before the wind; + And in our sight they three were taken up + By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. + At length another ship had seiz'd on us; + And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, + Gave healthful welcome to their ship-wreck'd guests, + And would have reft the fishers of their prey, + Had not their bark been very slow of sail; + And therefore homeward did they bend their course. + Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss, + That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd, + To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. +DUKE. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, + Do me the favour to dilate at full + What have befall'n of them and thee till now. +AEGEON. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, + At eighteen years became inquisitive + After his brother, and importun'd me + That his attendant-so his case was like, + Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name- + Might bear him company in the quest of him; + Whom whilst I laboured of a love to see, + I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd. + Five summers have I spent in farthest Greece, + Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia, + And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus; + Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought + Or that or any place that harbours men. + But here must end the story of my life; + And happy were I in my timely death, + Could all my travels warrant me they live. +DUKE. Hapless, Aegeon, whom the fates have mark'd + To bear the extremity of dire mishap! + Now, trust me, were it not against our laws, + Against my crown, my oath, my dignity, + Which princes, would they, may not disannul, + My soul should sue as advocate for thee. + But though thou art adjudged to the death, + And passed sentence may not be recall'd + But to our honour's great disparagement, + Yet will I favour thee in what I can. + Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day + To seek thy help by beneficial hap. + Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus; + Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, + And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die. + Gaoler, take him to thy custody. +GAOLER. I will, my lord. +AEGEON. Hopeless and helpless doth Aegeon wend, + But to procrastinate his lifeless end. +> + + + + + +ACT Il. SCENE 1 + +The house of ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS + +Enter ADRIANA, wife to ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, with LUCIANA, her sister + +ADRIANA. Neither my husband nor the slave return'd + That in such haste I sent to seek his master! + Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. +LUCIANA. Perhaps some merchant hath invited him, + And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner; + Good sister, let us dine, and never fret. + A man is master of his liberty; + Time is their master, and when they see time, + They'll go or come. If so, be patient, sister. +ADRIANA. Why should their liberty than ours be more? +LUCIANA. Because their business still lies out o' door. +ADRIANA. Look when I serve him so, he takes it ill. +LUCIANA. O, know he is the bridle of your will. +ADRIANA. There's none but asses will be bridled so. +LUCIANA. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe. + There's nothing situate under heaven's eye + But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky. + The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, + Are their males' subjects, and at their controls. + Man, more divine, the master of all these, + Lord of the wide world and wild wat'ry seas, + Indu'd with intellectual sense and souls, + Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, + Are masters to their females, and their lords; + Then let your will attend on their accords. +ADRIANA. This servitude makes you to keep unwed. +LUCIANA. Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed. +ADRIANA. But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway. +LUCIANA. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. +ADRIANA. How if your husband start some other where? +LUCIANA. Till he come home again, I would forbear. +ADRIANA. Patience unmov'd! no marvel though she pause: + They can be meek that have no other cause. + A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, + We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; + But were we burd'ned with like weight of pain, + As much, or more, we should ourselves complain. + So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, + With urging helpless patience would relieve me; + But if thou live to see like right bereft, + This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left. +LUCIANA. Well, I will marry one day, but to try. + Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh. + +Enter DROMIO OF EPHESUS + +ADRIANA. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that my two + ears can witness. +ADRIANA. Say, didst thou speak with him? Know'st thou his mind? +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear. + Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. +LUCIANA. Spake he so doubtfully thou could'st not feel his meaning? +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Nay, he struck so plainly I could to + well feel his blows; and withal so doubtfully that I could + scarce understand them. +ADRIANA. But say, I prithee, is he coming home? + It seems he hath great care to please his wife. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad. +ADRIANA. Horn-mad, thou villain! +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. I mean not cuckold-mad; + But, sure, he is stark mad. + When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, + He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold. + "Tis dinner time' quoth I; 'My gold!' quoth he. + 'Your meat doth burn' quoth I; 'My gold!' quoth he. + 'Will you come home?' quoth I; 'My gold!' quoth he. + 'Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?' + 'The pig' quoth I 'is burn'd'; 'My gold!' quoth he. + 'My mistress, sir,' quoth I; 'Hang up thy mistress; + I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress.' +LUCIANA. Quoth who? +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Quoth my master. + 'I know' quoth he 'no house, no wife, no mistress.' + So that my errand, due unto my tongue, + I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders; + For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. +ADRIANA. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Go back again, and be new beaten home? + For God's sake, send some other messenger. +ADRIANA. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. And he will bless that cross with other beating; + Between you I shall have a holy head. +ADRIANA. Hence, prating peasant! Fetch thy master home. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Am I so round with you, as you with me, + That like a football you do spurn me thus? + You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither; + If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. +> + + + + + +ACT III. SCENE 1 + +Before the house of ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS + +Enter ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, DROMIO OF EPHESUS, ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR + +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Good Signior Angelo, you must excuse us all; + My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours. + Say that I linger'd with you at your shop + To see the making of her carcanet, + And that to-morrow you will bring it home. + But here's a villain that would face me down + He met me on the mart, and that I beat him, + And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold, + And that I did deny my wife and house. + Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this? +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Say what you will, sir, but I know what I know. + That you beat me at the mart I have your hand to show; + If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink, + Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. I think thou art an ass. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Marry, so it doth appear + By the wrongs I suffer and the blows I bear. + I should kick, being kick'd; and being at that pass, + You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Y'are sad, Signior Balthazar; pray God our cheer + May answer my good will and your good welcome here. +BALTHAZAR. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. O, Signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, + A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. +BALTHAZAR. Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. And welcome more common; for that's nothing + but words. +BALTHAZAR. Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Ay, to a niggardly host and more sparing guest. + But though my cates be mean, take them in good part; + Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. + But, soft, my door is lock'd; go bid them let us in. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Ginn! +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch! + Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch. + Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for such store, + When one is one too many? Go get thee from the door. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. What patch is made our porter? + My master stays in the street. +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] Let him walk from whence he came, + lest he catch cold on's feet. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Who talks within there? Ho, open the door! +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] Right, sir; I'll tell you when, + an you'll tell me wherefore. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Wherefore? For my dinner; + I have not din'd to-day. +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] Nor to-day here you must not; + come again when you may. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. What art thou that keep'st me out + from the house I owe? +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] The porter for this time, + sir, and my name is Dromio. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. O Villain, thou hast stol'n both mine + office and my name! + The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. + If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place, + Thou wouldst have chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass. + +Enter LUCE, within + +LUCE. [Within] What a coil is there, Dromio? Who are those at the gate? +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Let my master in, Luce. +LUCE. [Within] Faith, no, he comes too late; + And so tell your master. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. O Lord, I must laugh! + Have at you with a proverb: Shall I set in my staff? +LUCE. [Within] Have at you with another: that's-when? can you tell? +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] If thy name be called Luce + -Luce, thou hast answer'd him well. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Do you hear, you minion? You'll let us in, I hope? +LUCE. [Within] I thought to have ask'd you. +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] And you said no. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. SO, Come, help: well struck! there was blow for blow. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Thou baggage, let me in. +LUCE. [Within] Can you tell for whose sake? +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Master, knock the door hard. +LUCE. [Within] Let him knock till it ache. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. You'll cry for this, minion, if beat the door down. +LUCE. [Within] What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town? + +Enter ADRIANA, within + +ADRIANA. [Within] Who is that at the door, that keeps all this noise? +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] By my troth, your town is + troubled with unruly boys. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Are you there, wife? You might + have come before. +ADRIANA. [Within] Your wife, sir knave! Go get you from the door. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. If YOU went in pain, master, this 'knave' would go sore. +ANGELO. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome; we would fain have either. +BALTHAZAR. In debating which was best, we shall part with neither. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome hither. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. You would say so, master, if your garments were thin. + Your cake here is warm within; you stand here in the cold; + It would make a man mad as a buck to be so bought and sold. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Go fetch me something; I'll break ope the gate. +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] Break any breaking here, + and I'll break your knave's pate. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. A man may break a word with you, + sir; and words are but wind; + Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind. +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] It seems thou want'st breaking; + out upon thee, hind! +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. Here's too much 'out upon thee!' pray thee let me in. +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. [Within] Ay, when fowls have no + feathers and fish have no fin. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Well, I'll break in; go borrow me a crow. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. A crow without feather? Master, mean you so? + For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather; + If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Go get thee gone; fetch me an iron crow. +BALTHAZAR. Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so! + Herein you war against your reputation, + And draw within the compass of suspect + Th' unviolated honour of your wife. + Once this-your long experience of her wisdom, + Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, + Plead on her part some cause to you unknown; + And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse + Why at this time the doors are made against you. + Be rul'd by me: depart in patience, + And let us to the Tiger all to dinner; + And, about evening, come yourself alone + To know the reason of this strange restraint. + If by strong hand you offer to break in + Now in the stirring passage of the day, + A vulgar comment will be made of it, + And that supposed by the common rout + Against your yet ungalled estimation + That may with foul intrusion enter in + And dwell upon your grave when you are dead; + For slander lives upon succession, + For ever hous'd where it gets possession. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. You have prevail'd. I will depart in quiet, + And in despite of mirth mean to be merry. + I know a wench of excellent discourse, + Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle; + There will we dine. This woman that I mean, + My wife-but, I protest, without desert- + Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal; + To her will we to dinner. [To ANGELO] Get you home + And fetch the chain; by this I know 'tis made. + Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine; + For there's the house. That chain will I bestow- + Be it for nothing but to spite my wife- + Upon mine hostess there; good sir, make haste. + Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, + I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me. +ANGELO. I'll meet you at that place some hour hence. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. Do so; this jest shall cost me some expense. +> + + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 1 + +A public place + +Enter SECOND MERCHANT, ANGELO, and an OFFICER + +SECOND MERCHANT. You know since Pentecost the sum is due, + And since I have not much importun'd you; + Nor now I had not, but that I am bound + To Persia, and want guilders for my voyage. + Therefore make present satisfaction, + Or I'll attach you by this officer. +ANGELO. Even just the sum that I do owe to you + Is growing to me by Antipholus; + And in the instant that I met with you + He had of me a chain; at five o'clock + I shall receive the money for the same. + Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, + I will discharge my bond, and thank you too. + +Enter ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS, and DROMIO OF EPHESUS, from the COURTEZAN'S + +OFFICER. That labour may you save; see where he comes. +ANTIPHOLUS OF EPHESUS. While I go to the goldsmith's house, go thou + And buy a rope's end; that will I bestow + Among my wife and her confederates, + For locking me out of my doors by day. + But, soft, I see the goldsmith. Get thee gone; + Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me. +DROMIO OF EPHESUS. I buy a thousand pound a year; I buy a rope. +> + + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1 + +A street before a priory + +Enter SECOND MERCHANT and ANGELO + +ANGELO. I am sorry, sir, that I have hind'red you; + But I protest he had the chain of me, + Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. +SECOND MERCHANT. How is the man esteem'd here in the city? +ANGELO. Of very reverend reputation, sir, + Of credit infinite, highly belov'd, + Second to none that lives here in the city; + His word might bear my wealth at any time. +SECOND MERCHANT. Speak softly; yonder, as I think, he walks. + +Enter ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE and DROMIO OF SYRACUSE + +ANGELO. 'Tis so; and that self chain about his neck + Which he forswore most monstrously to have. + Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him. + Signior Andpholus, I wonder much + That you would put me to this shame and trouble; + And, not without some scandal to yourself, + With circumstance and oaths so to deny + This chain, which now you wear so openly. + Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, + You have done wrong to this my honest friend; + Who, but for staying on our controversy, + Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day. + This chain you had of me; can you deny it? +ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. I think I had; I never did deny it. +SECOND MERCHANT. Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too. +ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Who heard me to deny it or forswear it? +SECOND MERCHANT. These ears of mine, thou know'st, did hear thee. + Fie on thee, wretch! 'tis pity that thou liv'st + To walk where any honest men resort. +ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE. Thou art a villain to impeach me thus; + I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty + Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand. +SECOND MERCHANT. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. +[They draw] + +Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, the COURTEZAN, and OTHERS + +ADRIANA. Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake! He is mad. + Some get within him, take his sword away; + Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house. +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE. Run, master, run; for God's sake take a house. + This is some priory. In, or we are spoil'd. +> + + + + + +1608 + +THE TRAGEDY OF CORIOLANUS + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + CAIUS MARCIUS, afterwards CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS + + Generals against the Volscians + TITUS LARTIUS + COMINIUS + + MENENIUS AGRIPPA, friend to Coriolanus + + Tribunes of the People + SICINIUS VELUTUS + JUNIUS BRUTUS + + YOUNG MARCIUS, son to Coriolanus + A ROMAN HERALD + NICANOR, a Roman + TULLUS AUFIDIUS, General of the Volscians + LIEUTENANT, to Aufidius + CONSPIRATORS, With Aufidius + ADRIAN, a Volscian + A CITIZEN of Antium + TWO VOLSCIAN GUARDS + + VOLUMNIA, mother to Coriolanus + VIRGILIA, wife to Coriolanus + VALERIA, friend to Virgilia + GENTLEWOMAN attending on Virgilia + + Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians, Aediles, Lictors, + Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers, Servants to Aufidius, and other + Attendants + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +Rome and the neighbourhood; Corioli and the neighbourhood; Antium + + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Rome. A street + +Enter a company of mutinous citizens, with staves, clubs, and other weapons + + FIRST CITIZEN. Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. + ALL. Speak, speak. + FIRST CITIZEN. YOU are all resolv'd rather to die than to famish? + ALL. Resolv'd, resolv'd. + FIRST CITIZEN. First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the + people. + ALL. We know't, we know't. + FIRST CITIZEN. Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own + price. Is't a verdict? + ALL. No more talking on't; let it be done. Away, away! + SECOND CITIZEN. One word, good citizens. + FIRST CITIZEN. We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. + What authority surfeits on would relieve us; if they would yield + us but the superfluity while it were wholesome, we might guess + they relieved us humanely; but they think we are too dear. The + leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an + inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a + gain to them. Let us revenge this with our pikes ere we become + rakes; for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not in + thirst for revenge. + SECOND CITIZEN. Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius? + FIRST CITIZEN. Against him first; he's a very dog to the + commonalty. + SECOND CITIZEN. Consider you what services he has done for his + country? + FIRST CITIZEN. Very well, and could be content to give him good + report for't but that he pays himself with being proud. + SECOND CITIZEN. Nay, but speak not maliciously. + FIRST CITIZEN. I say unto you, what he hath done famously he did it + to that end; though soft-conscienc'd men can be content to say it + was for his country, he did it to please his mother and to be + partly proud, which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue. + SECOND CITIZEN. What he cannot help in his nature you account a + vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous. + FIRST CITIZEN. If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations; + he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. [Shouts + within] What shouts are these? The other side o' th' city is + risen. Why stay we prating here? To th' Capitol! + ALL. Come, come. + FIRST CITIZEN. Soft! who comes here? + + Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA + + SECOND CITIZEN. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always lov'd + the people. + FIRST CITIZEN. He's one honest enough; would all the rest were so! + MENENIUS. What work's, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you + With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you. + FIRST CITIZEN. Our business is not unknown to th' Senate; they have + had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, which now we'll + show 'em in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breaths; + they shall know we have strong arms too. + MENENIUS. Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, + Will you undo yourselves? + FIRST CITIZEN. We cannot, sir; we are undone already. + MENENIUS. I tell you, friends, most charitable care + Have the patricians of you. For your wants, + Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well + Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them + Against the Roman state; whose course will on + The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs + Of more strong link asunder than can ever + Appear in your impediment. For the dearth, + The gods, not the patricians, make it, and + Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, + You are transported by calamity + Thither where more attends you; and you slander + The helms o' th' state, who care for you like fathers, + When you curse them as enemies. + FIRST CITIZEN. Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er car'd for us + yet. Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses cramm'd with + grain; make edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal daily + any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more + piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the + wars eat us not up, they will; and there's all the love they bear + us. + MENENIUS. Either you must + Confess yourselves wondrous malicious, + Or be accus'd of folly. I shall tell you + A pretty tale. It may be you have heard it; + But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture + To stale't a little more. + FIRST CITIZEN. Well, I'll hear it, sir; yet you must not think to + fob off our disgrace with a tale. But, an't please you, deliver. + MENENIUS. There was a time when all the body's members + Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it: + That only like a gulf it did remain + I' th' midst o' th' body, idle and unactive, + Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing + Like labour with the rest; where th' other instruments + Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, + And, mutually participate, did minister + Unto the appetite and affection common + Of the whole body. The belly answer'd- + FIRST CITIZEN. Well, sir, what answer made the belly? + MENENIUS. Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile, + Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus- + For look you, I may make the belly smile + As well as speak- it tauntingly replied + To th' discontented members, the mutinous parts + That envied his receipt; even so most fitly + As you malign our senators for that + They are not such as you. + FIRST CITIZEN. Your belly's answer- What? + The kingly crowned head, the vigilant eye, + The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, + Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, + With other muniments and petty helps + Is this our fabric, if that they- + MENENIUS. What then? + Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? What then? + FIRST CITIZEN. Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd, + Who is the sink o' th' body- + MENENIUS. Well, what then? + FIRST CITIZEN. The former agents, if they did complain, + What could the belly answer? + MENENIUS. I will tell you; + If you'll bestow a small- of what you have little- + Patience awhile, you'st hear the belly's answer. + FIRST CITIZEN. Y'are long about it. + MENENIUS. Note me this, good friend: + Your most grave belly was deliberate, + Not rash like his accusers, and thus answered. + 'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he + 'That I receive the general food at first + Which you do live upon; and fit it is, + Because I am the storehouse and the shop + Of the whole body. But, if you do remember, + I send it through the rivers of your blood, + Even to the court, the heart, to th' seat o' th' brain; + And, through the cranks and offices of man, + The strongest nerves and small inferior veins + From me receive that natural competency + Whereby they live. And though that all at once + You, my good friends'- this says the belly; mark me. + FIRST CITIZEN. Ay, sir; well, well. + MENENIUS. 'Though all at once cannot + See what I do deliver out to each, + Yet I can make my audit up, that all + From me do back receive the flour of all, + And leave me but the bran.' What say you to' t? + FIRST CITIZEN. It was an answer. How apply you this? + MENENIUS. The senators of Rome are this good belly, + And you the mutinous members; for, examine + Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly + Touching the weal o' th' common, you shall find + No public benefit which you receive + But it proceeds or comes from them to you, + And no way from yourselves. What do you think, + You, the great toe of this assembly? + FIRST CITIZEN. I the great toe? Why the great toe? + MENENIUS. For that, being one o' th' lowest, basest, poorest, + Of this most wise rebellion, thou goest foremost. + Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run, + Lead'st first to win some vantage. + But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs. + Rome and her rats are at the point of battle; + The one side must have bale. + + Enter CAIUS MARCIUS + + Hail, noble Marcius! + MARCIUS. Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues + That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, + Make yourselves scabs? + FIRST CITIZEN. We have ever your good word. + MARCIUS. He that will give good words to thee will flatter + Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, + That like nor peace nor war? The one affrights you, + The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, + Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; + Where foxes, geese; you are no surer, no, + Than is the coal of fire upon the ice + Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is + To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, + And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness + Deserves your hate; and your affections are + A sick man's appetite, who desires most that + Which would increase his evil. He that depends + Upon your favours swims with fins of lead, + And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye? + With every minute you do change a mind + And call him noble that was now your hate, + Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter + That in these several places of the city + You cry against the noble Senate, who, + Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else + Would feed on one another? What's their seeking? + MENENIUS. For corn at their own rates, whereof they say + The city is well stor'd. + MARCIUS. Hang 'em! They say! + They'll sit by th' fire and presume to know + What's done i' th' Capitol, who's like to rise, + Who thrives and who declines; side factions, and give out + Conjectural marriages, making parties strong, + And feebling such as stand not in their liking + Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's grain enough! + Would the nobility lay aside their ruth + And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry + With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high + As I could pick my lance. + MENENIUS. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; + For though abundantly they lack discretion, + Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, + What says the other troop? + MARCIUS. They are dissolv'd. Hang 'em! + They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs- + That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, + That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not + Corn for the rich men only. With these shreds + They vented their complainings; which being answer'd, + And a petition granted them- a strange one, + To break the heart of generosity + And make bold power look pale- they threw their caps + As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, + Shouting their emulation. + MENENIUS. What is granted them? + MARCIUS. Five tribunes, to defend their vulgar wisdoms, + Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus- + Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. 'Sdeath! + The rabble should have first unroof'd the city + Ere so prevail'd with me; it will in time + Win upon power and throw forth greater themes + For insurrection's arguing. + MENENIUS. This is strange. + MARCIUS. Go get you home, you fragments. + + Enter a MESSENGER, hastily + + MESSENGER. Where's Caius Marcius? + MARCIUS. Here. What's the matter? + MESSENGER. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms. + MARCIUS. I am glad on't; then we shall ha' means to vent + Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders. + + Enter COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, with other SENATORS; + JUNIUS BRUTUS and SICINIUS VELUTUS + + FIRST SENATOR. Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us: + The Volsces are in arms. + MARCIUS. They have a leader, + Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't. + I sin in envying his nobility; + And were I anything but what I am, + I would wish me only he. + COMINIUS. You have fought together? + MARCIUS. Were half to half the world by th' ears, and he + Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make + Only my wars with him. He is a lion + That I am proud to hunt. + FIRST SENATOR. Then, worthy Marcius, + Attend upon Cominius to these wars. + COMINIUS. It is your former promise. + MARCIUS. Sir, it is; + And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou + Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face. + What, art thou stiff? Stand'st out? + LARTIUS. No, Caius Marcius; + I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other + Ere stay behind this business. + MENENIUS. O, true bred! + FIRST SENATOR. Your company to th' Capitol; where, I know, + Our greatest friends attend us. + LARTIUS. [To COMINIUS] Lead you on. + [To MARCIUS] Follow Cominius; we must follow you; + Right worthy you priority. + COMINIUS. Noble Marcius! + FIRST SENATOR. [To the Citizens] Hence to your homes; be gone. + MARCIUS. Nay, let them follow. + The Volsces have much corn: take these rats thither + To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutineers, + Your valour puts well forth; pray follow. + Ciitzens steal away. Exeunt all but SICINIUS and BRUTUS + SICINIUS. Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius? + BRUTUS. He has no equal. + SICINIUS. When we were chosen tribunes for the people- + BRUTUS. Mark'd you his lip and eyes? + SICINIUS. Nay, but his taunts! + BRUTUS. Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird the gods. + SICINIUS. Bemock the modest moon. + BRUTUS. The present wars devour him! He is grown + Too proud to be so valiant. + SICINIUS. Such a nature, + Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow + Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder + His insolence can brook to be commanded + Under Cominius. + BRUTUS. Fame, at the which he aims- + In whom already he is well grac'd- cannot + Better be held nor more attain'd than by + A place below the first; for what miscarries + Shall be the general's fault, though he perform + To th' utmost of a man, and giddy censure + Will then cry out of Marcius 'O, if he + Had borne the business!' + SICINIUS. Besides, if things go well, + Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall + Of his demerits rob Cominius. + BRUTUS. Come. + Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius, + Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults + To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed + In aught he merit not. + SICINIUS. Let's hence and hear + How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion, + More than his singularity, he goes + Upon this present action. + BRUTUS. Let's along. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Corioli. The Senate House. + +Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS with SENATORS of Corioli + + FIRST SENATOR. So, your opinion is, Aufidius, + That they of Rome are ent'red in our counsels + And know how we proceed. + AUFIDIUS. Is it not yours? + What ever have been thought on in this state + That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome + Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone + Since I heard thence; these are the words- I think + I have the letter here;.yes, here it is: + [Reads] 'They have press'd a power, but it is not known + Whether for east or west. The dearth is great; + The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd, + Cominius, Marcius your old enemy, + Who is of Rome worse hated than of you, + And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, + These three lead on this preparation + Whither 'tis bent. Most likely 'tis for you; + Consider of it.' + FIRST SENATOR. Our army's in the field; + We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready + To answer us. + AUFIDIUS. Nor did you think it folly + To keep your great pretences veil'd till when + They needs must show themselves; which in the hatching, + It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery + We shall be short'ned in our aim, which was + To take in many towns ere almost Rome + Should know we were afoot. + SECOND SENATOR. Noble Aufidius, + Take your commission; hie you to your bands; + Let us alone to guard Corioli. + If they set down before's, for the remove + Bring up your army; but I think you'll find + Th' have not prepar'd for us. + AUFIDIUS. O, doubt not that! + I speak from certainties. Nay more, + Some parcels of their power are forth already, + And only hitherward. I leave your honours. + If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, + 'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike + Till one can do no more. + ALL. The gods assist you! + AUFIDIUS. And keep your honours safe! + FIRST SENATOR. Farewell. + SECOND SENATOR. Farewell. + ALL. Farewell. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Rome. MARCIUS' house + +Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA, mother and wife to MARCIUS; +they set them down on two low stools and sew + + VOLUMNIA. I pray you, daughter, sing, or express yourself in a more + comfortable sort. If my son were my husband, I should freelier + rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the + embracements of his bed where he would show most love. When yet + he was but tender-bodied, and the only son of my womb; when youth + with comeliness pluck'd all gaze his way; when, for a day of + kings' entreaties, a mother should not sell him an hour from her + beholding; I, considering how honour would become such a person- + that it was no better than picture-like to hang by th' wall, if + renown made it not stir- was pleas'd to let him seek danger where + he was to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him, from whence he + return'd his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I + sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child than + now in first seeing he had proved himself a man. + VIRGILIA. But had he died in the business, madam, how then? + VOLUMNIA. Then his good report should have been my son; I therein + would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen + sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my + good Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country + than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. + + Enter a GENTLEWOMAN + + GENTLEWOMAN. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you. + VIRGILIA. Beseech you give me leave to retire myself. + VOLUMNIA. Indeed you shall not. + Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum; + See him pluck Aufidius down by th' hair; + As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him. + Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus: + 'Come on, you cowards! You were got in fear, + Though you were born in Rome.' His bloody brow + With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes, + Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow + Or all or lose his hire. + VIRGILIA. His bloody brow? O Jupiter, no blood! + VOLUMNIA. Away, you fool! It more becomes a man + Than gilt his trophy. The breasts of Hecuba, + When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier + Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood + At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria + We are fit to bid her welcome. Exit GENTLEWOMAN + VIRGILIA. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! + VOLUMNIA. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee + And tread upon his neck. + + Re-enter GENTLEWOMAN, With VALERIA and an usher + + VALERIA. My ladies both, good day to you. + VOLUMNIA. Sweet madam! + VIRGILIA. I am glad to see your ladyship. + VALERIA. How do you both? You are manifest housekeepers. What are + you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith. How does your little + son? + VIRGILIA. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. + VOLUMNIA. He had rather see the swords and hear a drum than look + upon his schoolmaster. + VALERIA. O' my word, the father's son! I'll swear 'tis a very + pretty boy. O' my troth, I look'd upon him a Wednesday half an + hour together; has such a confirm'd countenance! I saw him run + after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it he let it go + again, and after it again, and over and over he comes, and up + again, catch'd it again; or whether his fall enrag'd him, or how + 'twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it. O, I warrant, how he + mammock'd it! + VOLUMNIA. One on's father's moods. + VALERIA. Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. + VIRGILIA. A crack, madam. + VALERIA. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the + idle huswife with me this afternoon. + VIRGILIA. No, good madam; I will not out of doors. + VALERIA. Not out of doors! + VOLUMNIA. She shall, she shall. + VIRGILIA. Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the threshold + till my lord return from the wars. + VALERIA. Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably; come, you + must go visit the good lady that lies in. + VIRGILIA. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my + prayers; but I cannot go thither. + VOLUMNIA. Why, I pray you? + VIRGILIA. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. + VALERIA. You would be another Penelope; yet they say all the yarn + she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. + Come, I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you + might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us. + VIRGILIA. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed I will not forth. + VALERIA. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news + of your husband. + VIRGILIA. O, good madam, there can be none yet. + VALERIA. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him + last night. + VIRGILIA. Indeed, madam? + VALERIA. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it + is: the Volsces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the + general is gone, with one part of our Roman power. Your lord and + Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli; they + nothing doubt prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true, + on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. + VIRGILIA. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in everything + hereafter. + VOLUMNIA. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease + our better mirth. + VALERIA. In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then. Come, + good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' + door and go along with us. + VIRGILIA. No, at a word, madam; indeed I must not. I wish you much + mirth. + VALERIA. Well then, farewell. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Before Corioli + +Enter MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, with drum and colours, +with CAPTAINS and soldiers. To them a MESSENGER + + MARCIUS. Yonder comes news; a wager- they have met. + LARTIUS. My horse to yours- no. + MARCIUS. 'Tis done. + LARTIUS. Agreed. + MARCIUS. Say, has our general met the enemy? + MESSENGER. They lie in view, but have not spoke as yet. + LARTIUS. So, the good horse is mine. + MARCIUS. I'll buy him of you. + LARTIUS. No, I'll nor sell nor give him; lend you him I will + For half a hundred years. Summon the town. + MARCIUS. How far off lie these armies? + MESSENGER. Within this mile and half. + MARCIUS. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours. + Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, + That we with smoking swords may march from hence + To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast. + + They sound a parley. Enter two SENATORS with others, + on the walls of Corioli + + Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? + FIRST SENATOR. No, nor a man that fears you less than he: + That's lesser than a little. [Drum afar off] Hark, our drums + Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls + Rather than they shall pound us up; our gates, + Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with rushes; + They'll open of themselves. [Alarum far off] Hark you far off! + There is Aufidius. List what work he makes + Amongst your cloven army. + MARCIUS. O, they are at it! + LARTIUS. Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho! + + Enter the army of the Volsces + + MARCIUS. They fear us not, but issue forth their city. + Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight + With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, brave Titus. + They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, + Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows. + He that retires, I'll take him for a Volsce, + And he shall feel mine edge. + + Alarum. The Romans are beat back to their trenches. + Re-enter MARCIUS, cursing + + MARCIUS. All the contagion of the south light on you, + You shames of Rome! you herd of- Boils and plagues + Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd + Farther than seen, and one infect another + Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese + That bear the shapes of men, how have you run + From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! + All hurt behind! Backs red, and faces pale + With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home, + Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe + And make my wars on you. Look to't. Come on; + If you'll stand fast we'll beat them to their wives, + As they us to our trenches. Follow me. + + Another alarum. The Volsces fly, and MARCIUS follows + them to the gates + + So, now the gates are ope; now prove good seconds; + 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, + Not for the fliers. Mark me, and do the like. + + [MARCIUS enters the gates] + + FIRST SOLDIER. Fool-hardiness; not I. + SECOND SOLDIER. Not I. [MARCIUS is shut in] + FIRST SOLDIER. See, they have shut him in. + ALL. To th' pot, I warrant him. [Alarum continues] + + Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS + + LARTIUS. What is become of Marcius? + ALL. Slain, sir, doubtless. + FIRST SOLDIER. Following the fliers at the very heels, + With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, + Clapp'd to their gates. He is himself alone, + To answer all the city. + LARTIUS. O noble fellow! + Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, + And when it bows stand'st up. Thou art left, Marcius; + A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, + Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier + Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible + Only in strokes; but with thy grim looks and + The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds + Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world + Were feverous and did tremble. + + Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy + + FIRST SOLDIER. Look, sir. + LARTIUS. O, 'tis Marcius! + Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. + [They fight, and all enter the city] + + + + +SCENE V. +Within Corioli. A street + +Enter certain Romans, with spoils + + FIRST ROMAN. This will I carry to Rome. + SECOND ROMAN. And I this. + THIRD ROMAN. A murrain on 't! I took this for silver. + [Alarum continues still afar off] + + Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS With a trumpeter + + MARCIUS. See here these movers that do prize their hours + At a crack'd drachma! Cushions, leaden spoons, + Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would + Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, + Ere yet the fight be done, pack up. Down with them! + Exeunt pillagers + And hark, what noise the general makes! To him! + There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, + Piercing our Romans; then, valiant Titus, take + Convenient numbers to make good the city; + Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste + To help Cominius. + LARTIUS. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; + Thy exercise hath been too violent + For a second course of fight. + MARCIUS. Sir, praise me not; + My work hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well; + The blood I drop is rather physical + Than dangerous to me. To Aufidius thus + I will appear, and fight. + LARTIUS. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, + Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms + Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, + Prosperity be thy page! + MARCIUS. Thy friend no less + Than those she placeth highest! So farewell. + LARTIUS. Thou worthiest Marcius! Exit MARCIUS + Go sound thy trumpet in the market-place; + Call thither all the officers o' th' town, + Where they shall know our mind. Away! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +Near the camp of COMINIUS + +Enter COMINIUS, as it were in retire, with soldiers + + COMINIUS. Breathe you, my friends. Well fought; we are come off + Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands + Nor cowardly in retire. Believe me, sirs, + We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck, + By interims and conveying gusts we have heard + The charges of our friends. The Roman gods, + Lead their successes as we wish our own, + That both our powers, with smiling fronts encount'ring, + May give you thankful sacrifice! + + Enter A MESSENGER + + Thy news? + MESSENGER. The citizens of Corioli have issued + And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle; + I saw our party to their trenches driven, + And then I came away. + COMINIUS. Though thou speak'st truth, + Methinks thou speak'st not well. How long is't since? + MESSENGER. Above an hour, my lord. + COMINIUS. 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums. + How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, + And bring thy news so late? + MESSENGER. Spies of the Volsces + Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel + Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, + Half an hour since brought my report. + + Enter MARCIUS + + COMINIUS. Who's yonder + That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods! + He has the stamp of Marcius, and I have + Before-time seen him thus. + MARCIUS. Come I too late? + COMINIUS. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor + More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue + From every meaner man. + MARCIUS. Come I too late? + COMINIUS. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, + But mantled in your own. + MARCIUS. O! let me clip ye + In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart + As merry as when our nuptial day was done, + And tapers burn'd to bedward. + COMINIUS. Flower of warriors, + How is't with Titus Lartius? + MARCIUS. As with a man busied about decrees: + Condemning some to death and some to exile; + Ransoming him or pitying, threat'ning th' other; + Holding Corioli in the name of Rome + Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, + To let him slip at will. + COMINIUS. Where is that slave + Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? + Where is he? Call him hither. + MARCIUS. Let him alone; + He did inform the truth. But for our gentlemen, + The common file- a plague! tribunes for them! + The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge + From rascals worse than they. + COMINIUS. But how prevail'd you? + MARCIUS. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. + Where is the enemy? Are you lords o' th' field? + If not, why cease you till you are so? + COMINIUS. Marcius, + We have at disadvantage fought, and did + Retire to win our purpose. + MARCIUS. How lies their battle? Know you on which side + They have plac'd their men of trust? + COMINIUS. As I guess, Marcius, + Their bands i' th' vaward are the Antiates, + Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, + Their very heart of hope. + MARCIUS. I do beseech you, + By all the battles wherein we have fought, + By th' blood we have shed together, by th' vows + We have made to endure friends, that you directly + Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; + And that you not delay the present, but, + Filling the air with swords advanc'd and darts, + We prove this very hour. + COMINIUS. Though I could wish + You were conducted to a gentle bath + And balms applied to you, yet dare I never + Deny your asking: take your choice of those + That best can aid your action. + MARCIUS. Those are they + That most are willing. If any such be here- + As it were sin to doubt- that love this painting + Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear + Lesser his person than an ill report; + If any think brave death outweighs bad life + And that his country's dearer than himself; + Let him alone, or so many so minded, + Wave thus to express his disposition, + And follow Marcius. [They all shout and wave their + swords, take him up in their arms and cast up their caps] + O, me alone! Make you a sword of me? + If these shows be not outward, which of you + But is four Volsces? None of you but is + Able to bear against the great Aufidius + A shield as hard as his. A certain number, + Though thanks to all, must I select from all; the rest + Shall bear the business in some other fight, + As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march; + And four shall quickly draw out my command, + Which men are best inclin'd. + COMINIUS. March on, my fellows; + Make good this ostentation, and you shall + Divide in all with us. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VII. +The gates of Corioli + +TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet +toward COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a LIEUTENANT, other soldiers, +and a scout + + LARTIUS. So, let the ports be guarded; keep your duties + As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch + Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve + For a short holding. If we lose the field + We cannot keep the town. + LIEUTENANT. Fear not our care, sir. + LARTIUS. Hence, and shut your gates upon's. + Our guider, come; to th' Roman camp conduct us. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VIII. +A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps + +Alarum, as in battle. Enter MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS at several doors + + MARCIUS. I'll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee + Worse than a promise-breaker. + AUFIDIUS. We hate alike: + Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor + More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot. + MARCIUS. Let the first budger die the other's slave, + And the gods doom him after! + AUFIDIUS. If I fly, Marcius, + Halloa me like a hare. + MARCIUS. Within these three hours, Tullus, + Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, + And made what work I pleas'd. 'Tis not my blood + Wherein thou seest me mask'd. For thy revenge + Wrench up thy power to th' highest. + AUFIDIUS. Wert thou the Hector + That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, + Thou shouldst not scape me here. + + Here they fight, and certain Volsces come in the aid + of AUFIDIUS. MARCIUS fights till they be driven in + breathless + + Officious, and not valiant, you have sham'd me + In your condemned seconds. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IX. +The Roman camp + +Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Enter, at one door, +COMINIUS with the Romans; at another door, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf + + COMINIUS. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, + Thou't not believe thy deeds; but I'll report it + Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; + Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug, + I' th' end admire; where ladies shall be frighted + And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull tribunes, + That with the fusty plebeians hate thine honours, + Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods + Our Rome hath such a soldier.' + Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, + Having fully din'd before. + + Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from the pursuit + + LARTIUS. O General, + Here is the steed, we the caparison. + Hadst thou beheld- + MARCIUS. Pray now, no more; my mother, + Who has a charter to extol her blood, + When she does praise me grieves me. I have done + As you have done- that's what I can; induc'd + As you have been- that's for my country. + He that has but effected his good will + Hath overta'en mine act. + COMINIUS. You shall not be + The grave of your deserving; Rome must know + The value of her own. 'Twere a concealment + Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, + To hide your doings and to silence that + Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd, + Would seem but modest. Therefore, I beseech you, + In sign of what you are, not to reward + What you have done, before our army hear me. + MARCIUS. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart + To hear themselves rememb'red. + COMINIUS. Should they not, + Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude + And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses- + Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store- of all + The treasure in this field achiev'd and city, + We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth + Before the common distribution at + Your only choice. + MARCIUS. I thank you, General, + But cannot make my heart consent to take + A bribe to pay my sword. I do refuse it, + And stand upon my common part with those + That have beheld the doing. + + A long flourish. They all cry 'Marcius, Marcius!' + cast up their caps and lances. COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare + + May these same instruments which you profane + Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall + I' th' field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be + Made all of false-fac'd soothing. When steel grows + Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made + An overture for th' wars. No more, I say. + For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled, + Or foil'd some debile wretch, which without note + Here's many else have done, you shout me forth + In acclamations hyperbolical, + As if I lov'd my little should be dieted + In praises sauc'd with lies. + COMINIUS. Too modest are you; + More cruel to your good report than grateful + To us that give you truly. By your patience, + If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you- + Like one that means his proper harm- in manacles, + Then reason safely with you. Therefore be it known, + As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius + Wears this war's garland; in token of the which, + My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, + With all his trim belonging; and from this time, + For what he did before Corioli, can him + With all th' applause-and clamour of the host, + Caius Marcius Coriolanus. + Bear th' addition nobly ever! + [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums] + ALL. Caius Marcius Coriolanus! + CORIOLANUS. I will go wash; + And when my face is fair you shall perceive + Whether I blush or no. Howbeit, I thank you; + I mean to stride your steed, and at all times + To undercrest your good addition + To th' fairness of my power. + COMINIUS. So, to our tent; + Where, ere we do repose us, we will write + To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius, + Must to Corioli back. Send us to Rome + The best, with whom we may articulate + For their own good and ours. + LARTIUS. I shall, my lord. + CORIOLANUS. The gods begin to mock me. I, that now + Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg + Of my Lord General. + COMINIUS. Take't- 'tis yours; what is't? + CORIOLANUS. I sometime lay here in Corioli + At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly. + He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; + But then Aufidius was within my view, + And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity. I request you + To give my poor host freedom. + COMINIUS. O, well begg'd! + Were he the butcher of my son, he should + Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus. + LARTIUS. Marcius, his name? + CORIOLANUS. By Jupiter, forgot! + I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd. + Have we no wine here? + COMINIUS. Go we to our tent. + The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time + It should be look'd to. Come. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE X. +The camp of the Volsces + +A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS bloody, with two or three soldiers + + AUFIDIUS. The town is ta'en. + FIRST SOLDIER. 'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition. + AUFIDIUS. Condition! + I would I were a Roman; for I cannot, + Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition? + What good condition can a treaty find + I' th' part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, + I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me; + And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter + As often as we eat. By th' elements, + If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, + He's mine or I am his. Mine emulation + Hath not that honour in't it had; for where + I thought to crush him in an equal force, + True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way, + Or wrath or craft may get him. + FIRST SOLDIER. He's the devil. + AUFIDIUS. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd + With only suff'ring stain by him; for him + Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep nor sanctuary, + Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, + The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, + Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up + Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst + My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it + At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, + Against the hospitable canon, would I + Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' city; + Learn how 'tis held, and what they are that must + Be hostages for Rome. + FIRST SOLDIER. Will not you go? + AUFIDIUS. I am attended at the cypress grove; I pray you- + 'Tis south the city mills- bring me word thither + How the world goes, that to the pace of it + I may spur on my journey. + FIRST SOLDIER. I shall, sir. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +Rome. A public place + +Enter MENENIUS, with the two Tribunes of the people, SICINIUS and BRUTUS + + MENENIUS. The augurer tells me we shall have news tonight. + BRUTUS. Good or bad? + MENENIUS. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love + not Marcius. + SICINIUS. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. + MENENIUS. Pray you, who does the wolf love? + SICINIUS. The lamb. + MENENIUS. Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians would the + noble Marcius. + BRUTUS. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. + MENENIUS. He's a bear indeed, that lives fike a lamb. You two are + old men; tell me one thing that I shall ask you. + BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, sir. + MENENIUS. In what enormity is Marcius poor in that you two have not + in abundance? + BRUTUS. He's poor in no one fault, but stor'd with all. + SICINIUS. Especially in pride. + BRUTUS. And topping all others in boasting. + MENENIUS. This is strange now. Do you two know how you are censured + here in the city- I mean of us o' th' right-hand file? Do you? + BOTH TRIBUNES. Why, how are we censur'd? + MENENIUS. Because you talk of pride now- will you not be angry? + BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, well, sir, well. + MENENIUS. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of + occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience. Give your + dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures- at the + least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame + Marcius for being proud? + BRUTUS. We do it not alone, sir. + MENENIUS. I know you can do very little alone; for your helps are + many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your + abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. You talk of + pride. O that you could turn your eyes toward the napes of your + necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O + that you could! + BOTH TRIBUNES. What then, sir? + MENENIUS. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, + proud, violent, testy magistrates-alias fools- as any in Rome. + SICINIUS. Menenius, you are known well enough too. + MENENIUS. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves + a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't; said to + be something imperfect in favouring the first complaint, hasty + and tinder-like upon too trivial motion; one that converses more + with the buttock of the night than with the forehead of the + morning. What I think I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. + Meeting two such wealsmen as you are- I cannot call you + Lycurguses- if the drink you give me touch my palate adversely, I + make a crooked face at it. I cannot say your worships have + deliver'd the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with + the major part of your syllables; and though I must be content to + bear with those that say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie + deadly that tell you you have good faces. If you see this in the + map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough too? + What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this + character, if I be known well enough too? + BRUTUS. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. + MENENIUS. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are + ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good + wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and + a fosset-seller, and then rejourn the controversy of threepence + to a second day of audience. When you are hearing a matter + between party and party, if you chance to be pinch'd with the + colic, you make faces like mummers, set up the bloody flag + against all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss + the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing. All + the peace you make in their cause is calling both the parties + knaves. You are a pair of strange ones. + BRUTUS. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber + for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol. + MENENIUS. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall + encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak + best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your + beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave as to + stuff a botcher's cushion or to be entomb'd in an ass's + pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying Marcius is proud; who, in a + cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion; + though peradventure some of the best of 'em were hereditary + hangmen. God-den to your worships. More of your conversation + would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly + plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of you. + [BRUTUS and SICINIUS go aside] + + Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA + + How now, my as fair as noble ladies- and the moon, were she + earthly, no nobler- whither do you follow your eyes so fast? + VOLUMNIA. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the + love of Juno, let's go. + MENENIUS. Ha! Marcius coming home? + VOLUMNIA. Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous + approbation. + MENENIUS. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo! + Marcius coming home! + VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA. Nay, 'tis true. + VOLUMNIA. Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, + his wife another; and I think there's one at home for you. + MENENIUS. I will make my very house reel to-night. A letter for me? + VIRGILIA. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't. + MENENIUS. A letter for me! It gives me an estate of seven years' + health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician. The + most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic and, to + this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he + not wounded? He was wont to come home wounded. + VIRGILIA. O, no, no, no. + VOLUMNIA. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't. + MENENIUS. So do I too, if it be not too much. Brings a victory in + his pocket? The wounds become him. + VOLUMNIA. On's brows, Menenius, he comes the third time home with + the oaken garland. + MENENIUS. Has he disciplin'd Aufidius soundly? + VOLUMNIA. Titus Lartius writes they fought together, but Aufidius + got off. + MENENIUS. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that; an he + had stay'd by him, I would not have been so fidius'd for all the + chests in Corioli and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate + possess'd of this? + VOLUMNIA. Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes: the Senate has + letters from the general, wherein he gives my son the whole name + of the war; he hath in this action outdone his former deeds + doubly. + VALERIA. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. + MENENIUS. Wondrous! Ay, I warrant you, and not without his true + purchasing. + VIRGILIA. The gods grant them true! + VOLUMNIA. True! pow, waw. + MENENIUS. True! I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded? + [To the TRIBUNES] God save your good worships! Marcius is coming + home; he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded? + VOLUMNIA. I' th' shoulder and i' th' left arm; there will be large + cicatrices to show the people when he shall stand for his place. + He received in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i' th' body. + MENENIUS. One i' th' neck and two i' th' thigh- there's nine that I + know. + VOLUMNIA. He had before this last expedition twenty-five wounds + upon him. + MENENIUS. Now it's twenty-seven; every gash was an enemy's grave. + [A shout and flourish] Hark! the trumpets. + VOLUMNIA. These are the ushers of Marcius. Before him he carries + noise, and behind him he leaves tears; + Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie, + Which, being advanc'd, declines, and then men die. + + A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the + GENERAL, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, + CORIOLANUS, crown'd with an oaken garland; with + CAPTAINS and soldiers and a HERALD + + HERALD. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight + Within Corioli gates, where he hath won, + With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these + In honour follows Coriolanus. + Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! [Flourish] + ALL. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! + CORIOLANUS. No more of this, it does offend my heart. + Pray now, no more. + COMINIUS. Look, sir, your mother! + CORIOLANUS. O, + You have, I know, petition'd all the gods + For my prosperity! [Kneels] + VOLUMNIA. Nay, my good soldier, up; + My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and + By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd- + What is it? Coriolanus must I can thee? + But, O, thy wife! + CORIOLANUS. My gracious silence, hail! + Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, + That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear, + Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, + And mothers that lack sons. + MENENIUS. Now the gods crown thee! + CORIOLANUS. And live you yet? [To VALERIA] O my sweet lady, + pardon. + VOLUMNIA. I know not where to turn. + O, welcome home! And welcome, General. + And y'are welcome all. + MENENIUS. A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep + And I could laugh; I am light and heavy. Welcome! + A curse begin at very root on's heart + That is not glad to see thee! You are three + That Rome should dote on; yet, by the faith of men, + We have some old crab trees here at home that will not + Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors. + We call a nettle but a nettle, and + The faults of fools but folly. + COMINIUS. Ever right. + CORIOLANUS. Menenius ever, ever. + HERALD. Give way there, and go on. + CORIOLANUS. [To his wife and mother] Your hand, and yours. + Ere in our own house I do shade my head, + The good patricians must be visited; + From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings, + But with them change of honours. + VOLUMNIA. I have lived + To see inherited my very wishes, + And the buildings of my fancy; only + There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but + Our Rome will cast upon thee. + CORIOLANUS. Know, good mother, + I had rather be their servant in my way + Than sway with them in theirs. + COMINIUS. On, to the Capitol. + [Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before] + + BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward + + BRUTUS. All tongues speak of him and the bleared sights + Are spectacled to see him. Your prattling nurse + Into a rapture lets her baby cry + While she chats him; the kitchen malkin pins + Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, + Clamb'ring the walls to eye him; stalls, bulks, windows, + Are smother'd up, leads fill'd and ridges hors'd + With variable complexions, all agreeing + In earnestness to see him. Seld-shown flamens + Do press among the popular throngs and puff + To win a vulgar station; our veil'd dames + Commit the war of white and damask in + Their nicely gawded cheeks to th' wanton spoil + Of Phoebus' burning kisses. Such a pother, + As if that whatsoever god who leads him + Were slily crept into his human powers, + And gave him graceful posture. + SICINIUS. On the sudden + I warrant him consul. + BRUTUS. Then our office may + During his power go sleep. + SICINIUS. He cannot temp'rately transport his honours + From where he should begin and end, but will + Lose those he hath won. + BRUTUS. In that there's comfort. + SICINIUS. Doubt not + The commoners, for whom we stand, but they + Upon their ancient malice will forget + With the least cause these his new honours; which + That he will give them make I as little question + As he is proud to do't. + BRUTUS. I heard him swear, + Were he to stand for consul, never would he + Appear i' th' market-place, nor on him put + The napless vesture of humility; + Nor, showing, as the manner is, his wounds + To th' people, beg their stinking breaths. + SICINIUS. 'Tis right. + BRUTUS. It was his word. O, he would miss it rather + Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him + And the desire of the nobles. + SICINIUS. I wish no better + Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it + In execution. + BRUTUS. 'Tis most like he will. + SICINIUS. It shall be to him then as our good wills: + A sure destruction. + BRUTUS. So it must fall out + To him or our authorities. For an end, + We must suggest the people in what hatred + He still hath held them; that to's power he would + Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and + Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them + In human action and capacity + Of no more soul nor fitness for the world + Than camels in their war, who have their provand + Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows + For sinking under them. + SICINIUS. This, as you say, suggested + At some time when his soaring insolence + Shall touch the people- which time shall not want, + If he be put upon't, and that's as easy + As to set dogs on sheep- will be his fire + To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze + Shall darken him for ever. + + Enter A MESSENGER + + BRUTUS. What's the matter? + MESSENGER. You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought + That Marcius shall be consul. + I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and + The blind to hear him speak; matrons flung gloves, + Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers, + Upon him as he pass'd; the nobles bended + As to Jove's statue, and the commons made + A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts. + I never saw the like. + BRUTUS. Let's to the Capitol, + And carry with us ears and eyes for th' time, + But hearts for the event. + SICINIUS. Have with you. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Rome. The Capitol + +Enter two OFFICERS, to lay cushions, as it were in the Capitol + + FIRST OFFICER. Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand for + consulships? + SECOND OFFICER. Three, they say; but 'tis thought of every one + Coriolanus will carry it. + FIRST OFFICER. That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud and + loves not the common people. + SECOND OFFICER. Faith, there have been many great men that have + flatter'd the people, who ne'er loved them; and there be many + that they have loved, they know not wherefore; so that, if they + love they know not why, they hate upon no better a ground. + Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or + hate him manifests the true knowledge he has in their + disposition, and out of his noble carelessness lets them plainly + see't. + FIRST OFFICER. If he did not care whether he had their love or no, + he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good nor harm; + but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can + render it him, and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover + him their opposite. Now to seem to affect the malice and + displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes- to + flatter them for their love. + SECOND OFFICER. He hath deserved worthily of his country; and his + ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, having been + supple and courteous to the people, bonneted, without any further + deed to have them at all, into their estimation and report; but + he hath so planted his honours in their eyes and his actions in + their hearts that for their tongues to be silent and not confess + so much were a kind of ingrateful injury; to report otherwise + were a malice that, giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof + and rebuke from every car that heard it. + FIRST OFFICER. No more of him; he's a worthy man. Make way, they + are coming. + + A sennet. Enter the PATRICIANS and the TRIBUNES + OF THE PEOPLE, LICTORS before them; CORIOLANUS, + MENENIUS, COMINIUS the Consul. SICINIUS and + BRUTUS take their places by themselves. + CORIOLANUS stands + + MENENIUS. Having determin'd of the Volsces, and + To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, + As the main point of this our after-meeting, + To gratify his noble service that + Hath thus stood for his country. Therefore please you, + Most reverend and grave elders, to desire + The present consul and last general + In our well-found successes to report + A little of that worthy work perform'd + By Caius Marcius Coriolanus; whom + We met here both to thank and to remember + With honours like himself. [CORIOLANUS sits] + FIRST SENATOR. Speak, good Cominius. + Leave nothing out for length, and make us think + Rather our state's defective for requital + Than we to stretch it out. Masters o' th' people, + We do request your kindest ears; and, after, + Your loving motion toward the common body, + To yield what passes here. + SICINIUS. We are convented + Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts + Inclinable to honour and advance + The theme of our assembly. + BRUTUS. Which the rather + We shall be bless'd to do, if he remember + A kinder value of the people than + He hath hereto priz'd them at. + MENENIUS. That's off, that's off; + I would you rather had been silent. Please you + To hear Cominius speak? + BRUTUS. Most willingly. + But yet my caution was more pertinent + Than the rebuke you give it. + MENENIUS. He loves your people; + But tie him not to be their bedfellow. + Worthy Cominius, speak. + [CORIOLANUS rises, and offers to go away] + Nay, keep your place. + FIRST SENATOR. Sit, Coriolanus, never shame to hear + What you have nobly done. + CORIOLANUS. Your Honours' pardon. + I had rather have my wounds to heal again + Than hear say how I got them. + BRUTUS. Sir, I hope + My words disbench'd you not. + CORIOLANUS. No, sir; yet oft, + When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. + You sooth'd not, therefore hurt not. But your people, + I love them as they weigh- + MENENIUS. Pray now, sit down. + CORIOLANUS. I had rather have one scratch my head i' th' sun + When the alarum were struck than idly sit + To hear my nothings monster'd. Exit + MENENIUS. Masters of the people, + Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter- + That's thousand to one good one- when you now see + He had rather venture all his limbs for honour + Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed, Cominius. + COMINIUS. I shall lack voice; the deeds of Coriolanus + Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held + That valour is the chiefest virtue and + Most dignifies the haver. If it be, + The man I speak of cannot in the world + Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years, + When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought + Beyond the mark of others; our then Dictator, + Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight + When with his Amazonian chin he drove + The bristled lips before him; he bestrid + An o'erpress'd Roman and i' th' consul's view + Slew three opposers; Tarquin's self he met, + And struck him on his knee. In that day's feats, + When he might act the woman in the scene, + He prov'd best man i' th' field, and for his meed + Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age + Man-ent'red thus, he waxed like a sea, + And in the brunt of seventeen battles since + He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this last, + Before and in Corioli, let me say + I cannot speak him home. He stopp'd the fliers, + And by his rare example made the coward + Turn terror into sport; as weeds before + A vessel under sail, so men obey'd + And fell below his stem. His sword, death's stamp, + Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot + He was a thing of blood, whose every motion + Was tim'd with dying cries. Alone he ent'red + The mortal gate of th' city, which he painted + With shunless destiny; aidless came off, + And with a sudden re-enforcement struck + Corioli like a planet. Now all's his. + When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce + His ready sense, then straight his doubled spirit + Re-quick'ned what in flesh was fatigate, + And to the battle came he; where he did + Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if + 'Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we call'd + Both field and city ours he never stood + To ease his breast with panting. + MENENIUS. Worthy man! + FIRST SENATOR. He cannot but with measure fit the honours + Which we devise him. + COMINIUS. Our spoils he kick'd at, + And look'd upon things precious as they were + The common muck of the world. He covets less + Than misery itself would give, rewards + His deeds with doing them, and is content + To spend the time to end it. + MENENIUS. He's right noble; + Let him be call'd for. + FIRST SENATOR. Call Coriolanus. + OFFICER. He doth appear. + + Re-enter CORIOLANUS + + MENENIUS. The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd + To make thee consul. + CORIOLANUS. I do owe them still + My life and services. + MENENIUS. It then remains + That you do speak to the people. + CORIOLANUS. I do beseech you + Let me o'erleap that custom; for I cannot + Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them + For my wounds' sake to give their suffrage. Please you + That I may pass this doing. + SICINIUS. Sir, the people + Must have their voices; neither will they bate + One jot of ceremony. + MENENIUS. Put them not to't. + Pray you go fit you to the custom, and + Take to you, as your predecessors have, + Your honour with your form. + CORIOLANUS. It is a part + That I shall blush in acting, and might well + Be taken from the people. + BRUTUS. Mark you that? + CORIOLANUS. To brag unto them 'Thus I did, and thus!' + Show them th' unaching scars which I should hide, + As if I had receiv'd them for the hire + Of their breath only! + MENENIUS. Do not stand upon't. + We recommend to you, Tribunes of the People, + Our purpose to them; and to our noble consul + Wish we all joy and honour. + SENATORS. To Coriolanus come all joy and honour! + [Flourish. Cornets. Then exeunt all + but SICINIUS and BRUTUS] + BRUTUS. You see how he intends to use the people. + SICINIUS. May they perceive's intent! He will require them + As if he did contemn what he requested + Should be in them to give. + BRUTUS. Come, we'll inform them + Of our proceedings here. On th' market-place + I know they do attend us. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Rome. The Forum + +Enter seven or eight citizens + + FIRST CITIZEN. Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to + deny him. + SECOND CITIZEN. We may, sir, if we will. + THIRD CITIZEN. We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a + power that we have no power to do; for if he show us his wounds + and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those + wounds and speak for them; so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we + must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is + monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful were to make a + monster of the multitude; of the which we being members should + bring ourselves to be monstrous members. + FIRST CITIZEN. And to make us no better thought of, a little help + will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck + not to call us the many-headed multitude. + THIRD CITIZEN. We have been call'd so of many; not that our heads + are some brown, some black, some abram, some bald, but that our + wits are so diversely colour'd; and truly I think if all our wits + were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, + south, and their consent of one direct way should be at once to + all the points o' th' compass. + SECOND CITIZEN. Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would + fly? + THIRD CITIZEN. Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's + will- 'tis strongly wedg'd up in a block-head; but if it were at + liberty 'twould sure southward. + SECOND CITIZEN. Why that way? + THIRD CITIZEN. To lose itself in a fog; where being three parts + melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for + conscience' sake, to help to get thee a wife. + SECOND CITIZEN. YOU are never without your tricks; you may, you + may. + THIRD CITIZEN. Are you all resolv'd to give your voices? But that's + no matter, the greater part carries it. I say, if he would + incline to the people, there was never a worthier man. + + Enter CORIOLANUS, in a gown of humility, + with MENENIUS + + Here he comes, and in the gown of humility. Mark his behaviour. + We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he + stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. He's to make his + requests by particulars, wherein every one of us has a single + honour, in giving him our own voices with our own tongues; + therefore follow me, and I'll direct you how you shall go by him. + ALL. Content, content. Exeunt citizens + MENENIUS. O sir, you are not right; have you not known + The worthiest men have done't? + CORIOLANUS. What must I say? + 'I pray, sir'- Plague upon't! I cannot bring + My tongue to such a pace. 'Look, sir, my wounds + I got them in my country's service, when + Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran + From th' noise of our own drums.' + MENENIUS. O me, the gods! + You must not speak of that. You must desire them + To think upon you. + CORIOLANUS. Think upon me? Hang 'em! + I would they would forget me, like the virtues + Which our divines lose by 'em. + MENENIUS. You'll mar all. + I'll leave you. Pray you speak to 'em, I pray you, + In wholesome manner. Exit + + Re-enter three of the citizens + + CORIOLANUS. Bid them wash their faces + And keep their teeth clean. So, here comes a brace. + You know the cause, sir, of my standing here. + THIRD CITIZEN. We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't. + CORIOLANUS. Mine own desert. + SECOND CITIZEN. Your own desert? + CORIOLANUS. Ay, not mine own desire. + THIRD CITIZEN. How, not your own desire? + CORIOLANUS. No, sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor + with begging. + THIRD CITIZEN. YOU MUST think, if we give you anything, we hope to + gain by you. + CORIOLANUS. Well then, I pray, your price o' th' consulship? + FIRST CITIZEN. The price is to ask it kindly. + CORIOLANUS. Kindly, sir, I pray let me ha't. I have wounds to show + you, which shall be yours in private. Your good voice, sir; what + say you? + SECOND CITIZEN. You shall ha' it, worthy sir. + CORIOLANUS. A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices begg'd. + I have your alms. Adieu. + THIRD CITIZEN. But this is something odd. + SECOND CITIZEN. An 'twere to give again- but 'tis no matter. + Exeunt the three citizens + + Re-enter two other citizens + + CORIOLANUS. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your + voices that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown. + FOURTH CITIZEN. You have deserved nobly of your country, and you + have not deserved nobly. + CORIOLANUS. Your enigma? + FOURTH CITIZEN. You have been a scourge to her enemies; you have + been a rod to her friends. You have not indeed loved the common + people. + CORIOLANUS. You should account me the more virtuous, that I have + not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn + brother, the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them; 'tis a + condition they account gentle; and since the wisdom of their + choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise + the insinuating nod and be off to them most counterfeitly. That + is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man + and give it bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you I + may be consul. + FIFTH CITIZEN. We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give + you our voices heartily. + FOURTH CITIZEN. You have received many wounds for your country. + CORIOLANUS. I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I + will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no farther. + BOTH CITIZENS. The gods give you joy, sir, heartily! + Exeunt citizens + CORIOLANUS. Most sweet voices! + Better it is to die, better to starve, + Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. + Why in this wolvish toge should I stand here + To beg of Hob and Dick that do appear + Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't. + What custom wills, in all things should we do't, + The dust on antique time would lie unswept, + And mountainous error be too highly heap'd + For truth to o'erpeer. Rather than fool it so, + Let the high office and the honour go + To one that would do thus. I am half through: + The one part suffered, the other will I do. + + Re-enter three citizens more + + Here come moe voices. + Your voices. For your voices I have fought; + Watch'd for your voices; for your voices bear + Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six + I have seen and heard of; for your voices have + Done many things, some less, some more. Your voices? + Indeed, I would be consul. + SIXTH CITIZEN. He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest + man's voice. + SEVENTH CITIZEN. Therefore let him be consul. The gods give him + joy, and make him good friend to the people! + ALL. Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul! + Exeunt citizens + CORIOLANUS. Worthy voices! + + Re-enter MENENIUS with BRUTUS and SICINIUS + + MENENIUS. You have stood your limitation, and the tribunes + Endue you with the people's voice. Remains + That, in th' official marks invested, you + Anon do meet the Senate. + CORIOLANUS. Is this done? + SICINIUS. The custom of request you have discharg'd. + The people do admit you, and are summon'd + To meet anon, upon your approbation. + CORIOLANUS. Where? At the Senate House? + SICINIUS. There, Coriolanus. + CORIOLANUS. May I change these garments? + SICINIUS. You may, sir. + CORIOLANUS. That I'll straight do, and, knowing myself again, + Repair to th' Senate House. + MENENIUS. I'll keep you company. Will you along? + BRUTUS. We stay here for the people. + SICINIUS. Fare you well. + Exeunt CORIOLANUS and MENENIUS + He has it now; and by his looks methinks + 'Tis warm at's heart. + BRUTUS. With a proud heart he wore + His humble weeds. Will you dismiss the people? + + Re-enter citizens + + SICINIUS. How now, my masters! Have you chose this man? + FIRST CITIZEN. He has our voices, sir. + BRUTUS. We pray the gods he may deserve your loves. + SECOND CITIZEN. Amen, sir. To my poor unworthy notice, + He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices. + THIRD CITIZEN. Certainly; + He flouted us downright. + FIRST CITIZEN. No, 'tis his kind of speech- he did not mock us. + SECOND CITIZEN. Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says + He us'd us scornfully. He should have show'd us + His marks of merit, wounds receiv'd for's country. + SICINIUS. Why, so he did, I am sure. + ALL. No, no; no man saw 'em. + THIRD CITIZEN. He said he had wounds which he could show in + private, + And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, + 'I would be consul,' says he; 'aged custom + But by your voices will not so permit me; + Your voices therefore.' When we granted that, + Here was 'I thank you for your voices. Thank you, + Your most sweet voices. Now you have left your voices, + I have no further with you.' Was not this mockery? + SICINIUS. Why either were you ignorant to see't, + Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness + To yield your voices? + BRUTUS. Could you not have told him- + As you were lesson'd- when he had no power + But was a petty servant to the state, + He was your enemy; ever spake against + Your liberties and the charters that you bear + I' th' body of the weal; and now, arriving + A place of potency and sway o' th' state, + If he should still malignantly remain + Fast foe to th' plebeii, your voices might + Be curses to yourselves? You should have said + That as his worthy deeds did claim no less + Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature + Would think upon you for your voices, and + Translate his malice towards you into love, + Standing your friendly lord. + SICINIUS. Thus to have said, + As you were fore-advis'd, had touch'd his spirit + And tried his inclination; from him pluck'd + Either his gracious promise, which you might, + As cause had call'd you up, have held him to; + Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature, + Which easily endures not article + Tying him to aught. So, putting him to rage, + You should have ta'en th' advantage of his choler + And pass'd him unelected. + BRUTUS. Did you perceive + He did solicit you in free contempt + When he did need your loves; and do you think + That his contempt shall not be bruising to you + When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies + No heart among you? Or had you tongues to cry + Against the rectorship of judgment? + SICINIUS. Have you + Ere now denied the asker, and now again, + Of him that did not ask but mock, bestow + Your su'd-for tongues? + THIRD CITIZEN. He's not confirm'd: we may deny him yet. + SECOND CITIZENS. And will deny him; + I'll have five hundred voices of that sound. + FIRST CITIZEN. I twice five hundred, and their friends to piece + 'em. + BRUTUS. Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends + They have chose a consul that will from them take + Their liberties, make them of no more voice + Than dogs, that are as often beat for barking + As therefore kept to do so. + SICINIUS. Let them assemble; + And, on a safer judgment, all revoke + Your ignorant election. Enforce his pride + And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not + With what contempt he wore the humble weed; + How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves, + Thinking upon his services, took from you + Th' apprehension of his present portance, + Which, most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion + After the inveterate hate he bears you. + BRUTUS. Lay + A fault on us, your tribunes, that we labour'd, + No impediment between, but that you must + Cast your election on him. + SICINIUS. Say you chose him + More after our commandment than as guided + By your own true affections; and that your minds, + Pre-occupied with what you rather must do + Than what you should, made you against the grain + To voice him consul. Lay the fault on us. + BRUTUS. Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you, + How youngly he began to serve his country, + How long continued; and what stock he springs of- + The noble house o' th' Marcians; from whence came + That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son, + Who, after great Hostilius, here was king; + Of the same house Publius and Quintus were, + That our best water brought by conduits hither; + And Censorinus, nobly named so, + Twice being by the people chosen censor, + Was his great ancestor. + SICINIUS. One thus descended, + That hath beside well in his person wrought + To be set high in place, we did commend + To your remembrances; but you have found, + Scaling his present bearing with his past, + That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke + Your sudden approbation. + BRUTUS. Say you ne'er had done't- + Harp on that still- but by our putting on; + And presently, when you have drawn your number, + Repair to th' Capitol. + CITIZENS. will will so; almost all + Repent in their election. Exeunt plebeians + BRUTUS. Let them go on; + This mutiny were better put in hazard + Than stay, past doubt, for greater. + If, as his nature is, he fall in rage + With their refusal, both observe and answer + The vantage of his anger. + SICINIUS. To th' Capitol, come. + We will be there before the stream o' th' people; + And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own, + Which we have goaded onward. Exeunt + + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Rome. A street + +Cornets. Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, all the GENTRY, COMINIUS, +TITUS LARTIUS, and other SENATORS + + CORIOLANUS. Tullus Aufidius, then, had made new head? + LARTIUS. He had, my lord; and that it was which caus'd + Our swifter composition. + CORIOLANUS. So then the Volsces stand but as at first, + Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road + Upon's again. + COMINIUS. They are worn, Lord Consul, so + That we shall hardly in our ages see + Their banners wave again. + CORIOLANUS. Saw you Aufidius? + LARTIUS. On safeguard he came to me, and did curse + Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely + Yielded the town. He is retir'd to Antium. + CORIOLANUS. Spoke he of me? + LARTIUS. He did, my lord. + CORIOLANUS. How? What? + LARTIUS. How often he had met you, sword to sword; + That of all things upon the earth he hated + Your person most; that he would pawn his fortunes + To hopeless restitution, so he might + Be call'd your vanquisher. + CORIOLANUS. At Antium lives he? + LARTIUS. At Antium. + CORIOLANUS. I wish I had a cause to seek him there, + To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. + + Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS + + Behold, these are the tribunes of the people, + The tongues o' th' common mouth. I do despise them, + For they do prank them in authority, + Against all noble sufferance. + SICINIUS. Pass no further. + CORIOLANUS. Ha! What is that? + BRUTUS. It will be dangerous to go on- no further. + CORIOLANUS. What makes this change? + MENENIUS. The matter? + COMINIUS. Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common? + BRUTUS. Cominius, no. + CORIOLANUS. Have I had children's voices? + FIRST SENATOR. Tribunes, give way: he shall to th' market-place. + BRUTUS. The people are incens'd against him. + SICINIUS. Stop, + Or all will fall in broil. + CORIOLANUS. Are these your herd? + Must these have voices, that can yield them now + And straight disclaim their tongues? What are your offices? + You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? + Have you not set them on? + MENENIUS. Be calm, be calm. + CORIOLANUS. It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot, + To curb the will of the nobility; + Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule + Nor ever will be rul'd. + BRUTUS. Call't not a plot. + The people cry you mock'd them; and of late, + When corn was given them gratis, you repin'd; + Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them + Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. + CORIOLANUS. Why, this was known before. + BRUTUS. Not to them all. + CORIOLANUS. Have you inform'd them sithence? + BRUTUS. How? I inform them! + COMINIUS. You are like to do such business. + BRUTUS. Not unlike + Each way to better yours. + CORIOLANUS. Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds, + Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me + Your fellow tribune. + SICINIUS. You show too much of that + For which the people stir; if you will pass + To where you are bound, you must enquire your way, + Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit, + Or never be so noble as a consul, + Nor yoke with him for tribune. + MENENIUS. Let's be calm. + COMINIUS. The people are abus'd; set on. This palt'ring + Becomes not Rome; nor has Coriolanus + Deserved this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely + I' th' plain way of his merit. + CORIOLANUS. Tell me of corn! + This was my speech, and I will speak't again- + MENENIUS. Not now, not now. + FIRST SENATOR. Not in this heat, sir, now. + CORIOLANUS. Now, as I live, I will. + My nobler friends, I crave their pardons. + For the mutable, rank-scented meiny, let them + Regard me as I do not flatter, and + Therein behold themselves. I say again, + In soothing them we nourish 'gainst our Senate + The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, + Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd, and scatter'd, + By mingling them with us, the honour'd number, + Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that + Which they have given to beggars. + MENENIUS. Well, no more. + FIRST SENATOR. No more words, we beseech you. + CORIOLANUS. How? no more! + As for my country I have shed my blood, + Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs + Coin words till their decay against those measles + Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought + The very way to catch them. + BRUTUS. You speak o' th' people + As if you were a god, to punish; not + A man of their infirmity. + SICINIUS. 'Twere well + We let the people know't. + MENENIUS. What, what? his choler? + CORIOLANUS. Choler! + Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, + By Jove, 'twould be my mind! + SICINIUS. It is a mind + That shall remain a poison where it is, + Not poison any further. + CORIOLANUS. Shall remain! + Hear you this Triton of the minnows? Mark you + His absolute 'shall'? + COMINIUS. 'Twas from the canon. + CORIOLANUS. 'Shall'! + O good but most unwise patricians! Why, + You grave but reckless senators, have you thus + Given Hydra here to choose an officer + That with his peremptory 'shall,' being but + The horn and noise o' th' monster's, wants not spirit + To say he'll turn your current in a ditch, + And make your channel his? If he have power, + Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake + Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd, + Be not as common fools; if you are not, + Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians, + If they be senators; and they are no less, + When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste + Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate; + And such a one as he, who puts his 'shall,' + His popular 'shall,' against a graver bench + Than ever frown'd in Greece. By Jove himself, + It makes the consuls base; and my soul aches + To know, when two authorities are up, + Neither supreme, how soon confusion + May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take + The one by th' other. + COMINIUS. Well, on to th' market-place. + CORIOLANUS. Whoever gave that counsel to give forth + The corn o' th' storehouse gratis, as 'twas us'd + Sometime in Greece- + MENENIUS. Well, well, no more of that. + CORIOLANUS. Though there the people had more absolute pow'r- + I say they nourish'd disobedience, fed + The ruin of the state. + BRUTUS. Why shall the people give + One that speaks thus their voice? + CORIOLANUS. I'll give my reasons, + More worthier than their voices. They know the corn + Was not our recompense, resting well assur'd + They ne'er did service for't; being press'd to th' war + Even when the navel of the state was touch'd, + They would not thread the gates. This kind of service + Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' th' war, + Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd + Most valour, spoke not for them. Th' accusation + Which they have often made against the Senate, + All cause unborn, could never be the native + Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? + How shall this bosom multiplied digest + The Senate's courtesy? Let deeds express + What's like to be their words: 'We did request it; + We are the greater poll, and in true fear + They gave us our demands.' Thus we debase + The nature of our seats, and make the rabble + Call our cares fears; which will in time + Break ope the locks o' th' Senate and bring in + The crows to peck the eagles. + MENENIUS. Come, enough. + BRUTUS. Enough, with over measure. + CORIOLANUS. No, take more. + What may be sworn by, both divine and human, + Seal what I end withal! This double worship, + Where one part does disdain with cause, the other + Insult without all reason; where gentry, title, wisdom, + Cannot conclude but by the yea and no + Of general ignorance- it must omit + Real necessities, and give way the while + To unstable slightness. Purpose so barr'd, it follows + Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you- + You that will be less fearful than discreet; + That love the fundamental part of state + More than you doubt the change on't; that prefer + A noble life before a long, and wish + To jump a body with a dangerous physic + That's sure of death without it- at once pluck out + The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick + The sweet which is their poison. Your dishonour + Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state + Of that integrity which should become't, + Not having the power to do the good it would, + For th' ill which doth control't. + BRUTUS. Has said enough. + SICINIUS. Has spoken like a traitor and shall answer + As traitors do. + CORIOLANUS. Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee! + What should the people do with these bald tribunes, + On whom depending, their obedience fails + To the greater bench? In a rebellion, + When what's not meet, but what must be, was law, + Then were they chosen; in a better hour + Let what is meet be said it must be meet, + And throw their power i' th' dust. + BRUTUS. Manifest treason! + SICINIUS. This a consul? No. + BRUTUS. The aediles, ho! + + Enter an AEDILE + + Let him be apprehended. + SICINIUS. Go call the people, [Exit AEDILE] in whose name myself + Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, + A foe to th' public weal. Obey, I charge thee, + And follow to thine answer. + CORIOLANUS. Hence, old goat! + PATRICIANS. We'll surety him. + COMINIUS. Ag'd sir, hands off. + CORIOLANUS. Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones + Out of thy garments. + SICINIUS. Help, ye citizens! + + Enter a rabble of plebeians, with the AEDILES + + MENENIUS. On both sides more respect. + SICINIUS. Here's he that would take from you all your power. + BRUTUS. Seize him, aediles. + PLEBEIANS. Down with him! down with him! + SECOND SENATOR. Weapons, weapons, weapons! + [They all bustle about CORIOLANUS] + ALL. Tribunes! patricians! citizens! What, ho! Sicinius! + Brutus! Coriolanus! Citizens! + PATRICIANS. Peace, peace, peace; stay, hold, peace! + MENENIUS. What is about to be? I am out of breath; + Confusion's near; I cannot speak. You tribunes + To th' people- Coriolanus, patience! + Speak, good Sicinius. + SICINIUS. Hear me, people; peace! + PLEBEIANS. Let's hear our tribune. Peace! Speak, speak, speak. + SICINIUS. You are at point to lose your liberties. + Marcius would have all from you; Marcius, + Whom late you have nam'd for consul. + MENENIUS. Fie, fie, fie! + This is the way to kindle, not to quench. + FIRST SENATOR. To unbuild the city, and to lay all flat. + SICINIUS. What is the city but the people? + PLEBEIANS. True, + The people are the city. + BRUTUS. By the consent of all we were establish'd + The people's magistrates. + PLEBEIANS. You so remain. + MENENIUS. And so are like to do. + COMINIUS. That is the way to lay the city flat, + To bring the roof to the foundation, + And bury all which yet distinctly ranges + In heaps and piles of ruin. + SICINIUS. This deserves death. + BRUTUS. Or let us stand to our authority + Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, + Upon the part o' th' people, in whose power + We were elected theirs: Marcius is worthy + Of present death. + SICINIUS. Therefore lay hold of him; + Bear him to th' rock Tarpeian, and from thence + Into destruction cast him. + BRUTUS. AEdiles, seize him. + PLEBEIANS. Yield, Marcius, yield. + MENENIUS. Hear me one word; beseech you, Tribunes, + Hear me but a word. + AEDILES. Peace, peace! + MENENIUS. Be that you seem, truly your country's friend, + And temp'rately proceed to what you would + Thus violently redress. + BRUTUS. Sir, those cold ways, + That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous + Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon him + And bear him to the rock. + [CORIOLANUS draws his sword] + CORIOLANUS. No: I'll die here. + There's some among you have beheld me fighting; + Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. + MENENIUS. Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile. + BRUTUS. Lay hands upon him. + MENENIUS. Help Marcius, help, + You that be noble; help him, young and old. + PLEBEIANS. Down with him, down with him! + [In this mutiny the TRIBUNES, the AEDILES, + and the people are beat in] + MENENIUS. Go, get you to your house; be gone, away. + All will be nought else. + SECOND SENATOR. Get you gone. + CORIOLANUS. Stand fast; + We have as many friends as enemies. + MENENIUS. Shall it be put to that? + FIRST SENATOR. The gods forbid! + I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house; + Leave us to cure this cause. + MENENIUS. For 'tis a sore upon us + You cannot tent yourself; be gone, beseech you. + COMINIUS. Come, sir, along with us. + CORIOLANUS. I would they were barbarians, as they are, + Though in Rome litter'd; not Romans, as they are not, + Though calved i' th' porch o' th' Capitol. + MENENIUS. Be gone. + Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; + One time will owe another. + CORIOLANUS. On fair ground + I could beat forty of them. + MENENIUS. I could myself + Take up a brace o' th' best of them; yea, the two tribunes. + COMINIUS. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic, + And manhood is call'd foolery when it stands + Against a falling fabric. Will you hence, + Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend + Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear + What they are us'd to bear. + MENENIUS. Pray you be gone. + I'll try whether my old wit be in request + With those that have but little; this must be patch'd + With cloth of any colour. + COMINIUS. Nay, come away. + Exeunt CORIOLANUS and COMINIUS, with others + PATRICIANS. This man has marr'd his fortune. + MENENIUS. His nature is too noble for the world: + He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, + Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth; + What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; + And, being angry, does forget that ever + He heard the name of death. [A noise within] + Here's goodly work! + PATRICIANS. I would they were a-bed. + MENENIUS. I would they were in Tiber. + What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair? + + Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, the rabble again + + SICINIUS. Where is this viper + That would depopulate the city and + Be every man himself? + MENENIUS. You worthy Tribunes- + SICINIUS. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock + With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law, + And therefore law shall scorn him further trial + Than the severity of the public power, + Which he so sets at nought. + FIRST CITIZEN. He shall well know + The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, + And we their hands. + PLEBEIANS. He shall, sure on't. + MENENIUS. Sir, sir- + SICINIUS. Peace! + MENENIUS. Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt + With modest warrant. + SICINIUS. Sir, how comes't that you + Have holp to make this rescue? + MENENIUS. Hear me speak. + As I do know the consul's worthiness, + So can I name his faults. + SICINIUS. Consul! What consul? + MENENIUS. The consul Coriolanus. + BRUTUS. He consul! + PLEBEIANS. No, no, no, no, no. + MENENIUS. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, + I may be heard, I would crave a word or two; + The which shall turn you to no further harm + Than so much loss of time. + SICINIUS. Speak briefly, then, + For we are peremptory to dispatch + This viperous traitor; to eject him hence + Were but one danger, and to keep him here + Our certain death; therefore it is decreed + He dies to-night. + MENENIUS. Now the good gods forbid + That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude + Towards her deserved children is enroll'd + In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam + Should now eat up her own! + SICINIUS. He's a disease that must be cut away. + MENENIUS. O, he's a limb that has but a disease- + Mortal, to cut it off: to cure it, easy. + What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? + Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost- + Which I dare vouch is more than that he hath + By many an ounce- he dropt it for his country; + And what is left, to lose it by his country + Were to us all that do't and suffer it + A brand to th' end o' th' world. + SICINIUS. This is clean kam. + BRUTUS. Merely awry. When he did love his country, + It honour'd him. + SICINIUS. The service of the foot, + Being once gangren'd, is not then respected + For what before it was. + BRUTUS. We'll hear no more. + Pursue him to his house and pluck him thence, + Lest his infection, being of catching nature, + Spread further. + MENENIUS. One word more, one word + This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find + The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late, + Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process, + Lest parties- as he is belov'd- break out, + And sack great Rome with Romans. + BRUTUS. If it were so- + SICINIUS. What do ye talk? + Have we not had a taste of his obedience- + Our aediles smote, ourselves resisted? Come! + MENENIUS. Consider this: he has been bred i' th' wars + Since 'a could draw a sword, and is ill school'd + In bolted language; meal and bran together + He throws without distinction. Give me leave, + I'll go to him and undertake to bring him + Where he shall answer by a lawful form, + In peace, to his utmost peril. + FIRST SENATOR. Noble Tribunes, + It is the humane way; the other course + Will prove too bloody, and the end of it + Unknown to the beginning. + SICINIUS. Noble Menenius, + Be you then as the people's officer. + Masters, lay down your weapons. + BRUTUS. Go not home. + SICINIUS. Meet on the market-place. We'll attend you there; + Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed + In our first way. + MENENIUS. I'll bring him to you. + [To the SENATORS] Let me desire your company; he must come, + Or what is worst will follow. + FIRST SENATOR. Pray you let's to him. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Rome. The house of CORIOLANUS + +Enter CORIOLANUS with NOBLES + + CORIOLANUS. Let them pull all about mine ears, present me + Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels; + Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, + That the precipitation might down stretch + Below the beam of sight; yet will I still + Be thus to them. + FIRST PATRICIAN. You do the nobler. + CORIOLANUS. I muse my mother + Does not approve me further, who was wont + To call them woollen vassals, things created + To buy and sell with groats; to show bare heads + In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder, + When one but of my ordinance stood up + To speak of peace or war. + + Enter VOLUMNIA + + I talk of you: + Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me + False to my nature? Rather say I play + The man I am. + VOLUMNIA. O, sir, sir, sir, + I would have had you put your power well on + Before you had worn it out. + CORIOLANUS. Let go. + VOLUMNIA. You might have been enough the man you are + With striving less to be so; lesser had been + The thwartings of your dispositions, if + You had not show'd them how ye were dispos'd, + Ere they lack'd power to cross you. + CORIOLANUS. Let them hang. + VOLUMNIA. Ay, and burn too. + + Enter MENENIUS with the SENATORS + + MENENIUS. Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough; + You must return and mend it. + FIRST SENATOR. There's no remedy, + Unless, by not so doing, our good city + Cleave in the midst and perish. + VOLUMNIA. Pray be counsell'd; + I have a heart as little apt as yours, + But yet a brain that leads my use of anger + To better vantage. + MENENIUS. Well said, noble woman! + Before he should thus stoop to th' herd, but that + The violent fit o' th' time craves it as physic + For the whole state, I would put mine armour on, + Which I can scarcely bear. + CORIOLANUS. What must I do? + MENENIUS. Return to th' tribunes. + CORIOLANUS. Well, what then, what then? + MENENIUS. Repent what you have spoke. + CORIOLANUS. For them! I cannot do it to the gods; + Must I then do't to them? + VOLUMNIA. You are too absolute; + Though therein you can never be too noble + But when extremities speak. I have heard you say + Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, + I' th' war do grow together; grant that, and tell me + In peace what each of them by th' other lose + That they combine not there. + CORIOLANUS. Tush, tush! + MENENIUS. A good demand. + VOLUMNIA. If it be honour in your wars to seem + The same you are not, which for your best ends + You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse + That it shall hold companionship in peace + With honour as in war; since that to both + It stands in like request? + CORIOLANUS. Why force you this? + VOLUMNIA. Because that now it lies you on to speak + To th' people, not by your own instruction, + Nor by th' matter which your heart prompts you, + But with such words that are but roted in + Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables + Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. + Now, this no more dishonours you at all + Than to take in a town with gentle words, + Which else would put you to your fortune and + The hazard of much blood. + I would dissemble with my nature where + My fortunes and my friends at stake requir'd + I should do so in honour. I am in this + Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; + And you will rather show our general louts + How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon 'em + For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard + Of what that want might ruin. + MENENIUS. Noble lady! + Come, go with us, speak fair; you may salve so, + Not what is dangerous present, but the los + Of what is past. + VOLUMNIA. I prithee now, My son, + Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand; + And thus far having stretch'd it- here be with them- + Thy knee bussing the stones- for in such busines + Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant + More learned than the ears- waving thy head, + Which often thus correcting thy-stout heart, + Now humble as the ripest mulberry + That will not hold the handling. Or say to them + Thou art their soldier and, being bred in broils, + Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, + Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, + In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame + Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far + As thou hast power and person. + MENENIUS. This but done + Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours; + For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free + As words to little purpose. + VOLUMNIA. Prithee now, + Go, and be rul'd; although I know thou hadst rather + Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf + Than flatter him in a bower. + + Enter COMINIUS + + Here is Cominius. + COMINIUS. I have been i' th' market-place; and, sir, 'tis fit + You make strong party, or defend yourself + By calmness or by absence; all's in anger. + MENENIUS. Only fair speech. + COMINIUS. I think 'twill serve, if he + Can thereto frame his spirit. + VOLUMNIA. He must and will. + Prithee now, say you will, and go about it. + CORIOLANUS. Must I go show them my unbarb'd sconce? Must I + With my base tongue give to my noble heart + A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't; + Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, + This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it, + And throw't against the wind. To th' market-place! + You have put me now to such a part which never + I shall discharge to th' life. + COMINIUS. Come, come, we'll prompt you. + VOLUMNIA. I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said + My praises made thee first a soldier, so, + To have my praise for this, perform a part + Thou hast not done before. + CORIOLANUS. Well, I must do't. + Away, my disposition, and possess me + Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be turn'd, + Which quier'd with my drum, into a pipe + Small as an eunuch or the virgin voice + That babies lulls asleep! The smiles of knaves + Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up + The glasses of my sight! A beggar's tongue + Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees, + Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his + That hath receiv'd an alms! I will not do't, + Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth, + And by my body's action teach my mind + A most inherent baseness. + VOLUMNIA. At thy choice, then. + To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour + Than thou of them. Come all to ruin. Let + Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear + Thy dangerous stoutness; for I mock at death + With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. + Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me; + But owe thy pride thyself. + CORIOLANUS. Pray be content. + Mother, I am going to the market-place; + Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, + Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd + Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going. + Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul, + Or never trust to what my tongue can do + I' th' way of flattery further. + VOLUMNIA. Do your will. Exit + COMINIUS. Away! The tribunes do attend you. Arm yourself + To answer mildly; for they are prepar'd + With accusations, as I hear, more strong + Than are upon you yet. + CORIOLANUS. The word is 'mildly.' Pray you let us go. + Let them accuse me by invention; I + Will answer in mine honour. + MENENIUS. Ay, but mildly. + CORIOLANUS. Well, mildly be it then- mildly. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Rome. The Forum + +Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS + + BRUTUS. In this point charge him home, that he affects + Tyrannical power. If he evade us there, + Enforce him with his envy to the people, + And that the spoil got on the Antiates + Was ne'er distributed. + + Enter an AEDILE + + What, will he come? + AEDILE. He's coming. + BRUTUS. How accompanied? + AEDILE. With old Menenius, and those senators + That always favour'd him. + SICINIUS. Have you a catalogue + Of all the voices that we have procur'd, + Set down by th' poll? + AEDILE. I have; 'tis ready. + SICINIUS. Have you corrected them by tribes? + AEDILE. I have. + SICINIUS. Assemble presently the people hither; + And when they hear me say 'It shall be so + I' th' right and strength o' th' commons' be it either + For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them, + If I say fine, cry 'Fine!'- if death, cry 'Death!' + Insisting on the old prerogative + And power i' th' truth o' th' cause. + AEDILE. I shall inform them. + BRUTUS. And when such time they have begun to cry, + Let them not cease, but with a din confus'd + Enforce the present execution + Of what we chance to sentence. + AEDILE. Very well. + SICINIUS. Make them be strong, and ready for this hint, + When we shall hap to give't them. + BRUTUS. Go about it. Exit AEDILE + Put him to choler straight. He hath been us'd + Ever to conquer, and to have his worth + Of contradiction; being once chaf'd, he cannot + Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks + What's in his heart, and that is there which looks + With us to break his neck. + + Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS and COMINIUS, with others + + SICINIUS. Well, here he comes. + MENENIUS. Calmly, I do beseech you. + CORIOLANUS. Ay, as an ostler, that for th' poorest piece + Will bear the knave by th' volume. Th' honour'd gods + Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice + Supplied with worthy men! plant love among's! + Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, + And not our streets with war! + FIRST SENATOR. Amen, amen! + MENENIUS. A noble wish. + + Re-enter the.AEDILE,with the plebeians + + SICINIUS. Draw near, ye people. + AEDILE. List to your tribunes. Audience! peace, I say! + CORIOLANUS. First, hear me speak. + BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, say. Peace, ho! + CORIOLANUS. Shall I be charg'd no further than this present? + Must all determine here? + SICINIUS. I do demand, + If you submit you to the people's voices, + Allow their officers, and are content + To suffer lawful censure for such faults + As shall be prov'd upon you. + CORIOLANUS. I am content. + MENENIUS. Lo, citizens, he says he is content. + The warlike service he has done, consider; think + Upon the wounds his body bears, which show + Like graves i' th' holy churchyard. + CORIOLANUS. Scratches with briers, + Scars to move laughter only. + MENENIUS. Consider further, + That when he speaks not like a citizen, + You find him like a soldier; do not take + His rougher accents for malicious sounds, + But, as I say, such as become a soldier + Rather than envy you. + COMINIUS. Well, well! No more. + CORIOLANUS. What is the matter, + That being pass'd for consul with full voice, + I am so dishonour'd that the very hour + You take it off again? + SICINIUS. Answer to us. + CORIOLANUS. Say then; 'tis true, I ought so. + SICINIUS. We charge you that you have contriv'd to take + From Rome all season'd office, and to wind + Yourself into a power tyrannical; + For which you are a traitor to the people. + CORIOLANUS. How- traitor? + MENENIUS. Nay, temperately! Your promise. + CORIOLANUS. The fires i' th' lowest hell fold in the people! + Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune! + Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, + In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in + Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say + 'Thou liest' unto thee with a voice as free + As I do pray the gods. + SICINIUS. Mark you this, people? + PLEBEIANS. To th' rock, to th' rock, with him! + SICINIUS. Peace! + We need not put new matter to his charge. + What you have seen him do and heard him speak, + Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, + Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying + Those whose great power must try him- even this, + So criminal and in such capital kind, + Deserves th' extremest death. + BRUTUS. But since he hath + Serv'd well for Rome- + CORIOLANUS. What do you prate of service? + BRUTUS. I talk of that that know it. + CORIOLANUS. You! + MENENIUS. Is this the promise that you made your mother? + COMINIUS. Know, I pray you- + CORIOLANUS. I'll know no further. + Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, + Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger + But with a grain a day, I would not buy + Their mercy at the price of one fair word, + Nor check my courage for what they can give, + To have't with saying 'Good morrow.' + SICINIUS. For that he has- + As much as in him lies- from time to time + Envied against the people, seeking means + To pluck away their power; as now at last + Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence + Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers + That do distribute it- in the name o' th' people, + And in the power of us the tribunes, we, + Ev'n from this instant, banish him our city, + In peril of precipitation + From off the rock Tarpeian, never more + To enter our Rome gates. I' th' people's name, + I say it shall be so. + PLEBEIANS. It shall be so, it shall be so! Let him away! + He's banish'd, and it shall be so. + COMINIUS. Hear me, my masters and my common friends- + SICINIUS. He's sentenc'd; no more hearing. + COMINIUS. Let me speak. + I have been consul, and can show for Rome + Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love + My country's good with a respect more tender, + More holy and profound, than mine own life, + My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase + And treasure of my loins. Then if I would + Speak that- + SICINIUS. We know your drift. Speak what? + BRUTUS. There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd, + As enemy to the people and his country. + It shall be so. + PLEBEIANS. It shall be so, it shall be so. + CORIOLANUS. YOU common cry of curs, whose breath I hate + As reek o' th' rotten fens, whose loves I prize + As the dead carcasses of unburied men + That do corrupt my air- I banish you. + And here remain with your uncertainty! + Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts; + Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, + Fan you into despair! Have the power still + To banish your defenders, till at length + Your ignorance- which finds not till it feels, + Making but reservation of yourselves + Still your own foes- deliver you + As most abated captives to some nation + That won you without blows! Despising + For you the city, thus I turn my back; + There is a world elsewhere. + Exeunt CORIOLANUS, + COMINIUS, MENENIUS, with the other PATRICIANS + AEDILE. The people's enemy is gone, is gone! + [They all shout and throw up their caps] + PLEBEIANS. Our enemy is banish'd, he is gone! Hoo-oo! + SICINIUS. Go see him out at gates, and follow him, + As he hath follow'd you, with all despite; + Give him deserv'd vexation. Let a guard + Attend us through the city. + PLEBEIANS. Come, come, let's see him out at gates; come! + The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +Rome. Before a gate of the city + +Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENENIUS, COMINIUS, +with the young NOBILITY of Rome + + CORIOLANUS. Come, leave your tears; a brief farewell. The beast + With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, + Where is your ancient courage? You were us'd + To say extremities was the trier of spirits; + That common chances common men could bear; + That when the sea was calm all boats alike + Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows, + When most struck home, being gentle wounded craves + A noble cunning. You were us'd to load me + With precepts that would make invincible + The heart that conn'd them. + VIRGILIA. O heavens! O heavens! + CORIOLANUS. Nay, I prithee, woman- + VOLUMNIA. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, + And occupations perish! + CORIOLANUS. What, what, what! + I shall be lov'd when I am lack'd. Nay, mother, + Resume that spirit when you were wont to say, + If you had been the wife of Hercules, + Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd + Your husband so much sweat. Cominius, + Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother. + I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius, + Thy tears are salter than a younger man's + And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime General, + I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld + Heart-hard'ning spectacles; tell these sad women + 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, + As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot well + My hazards still have been your solace; and + Believe't not lightly- though I go alone, + Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen + Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen- your son + Will or exceed the common or be caught + With cautelous baits and practice. + VOLUMNIA. My first son, + Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius + With thee awhile; determine on some course + More than a wild exposture to each chance + That starts i' th' way before thee. + VIRGILIA. O the gods! + COMINIUS. I'll follow thee a month, devise with the + Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us, + And we of thee; so, if the time thrust forth + A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send + O'er the vast world to seek a single man, + And lose advantage, which doth ever cool + I' th' absence of the needer. + CORIOLANUS. Fare ye well; + Thou hast years upon thee, and thou art too full + Of the wars' surfeits to go rove with one + That's yet unbruis'd; bring me but out at gate. + Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and + My friends of noble touch; when I am forth, + Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you come. + While I remain above the ground you shall + Hear from me still, and never of me aught + But what is like me formerly. + MENENIUS. That's worthily + As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep. + If I could shake off but one seven years + From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, + I'd with thee every foot. + CORIOLANUS. Give me thy hand. + Come. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Rome. A street near the gate + +Enter the two Tribunes, SICINIUS and BRUTUS with the AEDILE + + SICINIUS. Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further. + The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided + In his behalf. + BRUTUS. Now we have shown our power, + Let us seem humbler after it is done + Than when it was a-doing. + SICINIUS. Bid them home. + Say their great enemy is gone, and they + Stand in their ancient strength. + BRUTUS. Dismiss them home. Exit AEDILE + Here comes his mother. + + Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and MENENIUS + + SICINIUS. Let's not meet her. + BRUTUS. Why? + SICINIUS. They say she's mad. + BRUTUS. They have ta'en note of us; keep on your way. + VOLUMNIA. O, Y'are well met; th' hoarded plague o' th' gods + Requite your love! + MENENIUS. Peace, peace, be not so loud. + VOLUMNIA. If that I could for weeping, you should hear- + Nay, and you shall hear some. [To BRUTUS] Will you be gone? + VIRGILIA. [To SICINIUS] You shall stay too. I would I had the + power + To say so to my husband. + SICINIUS. Are you mankind? + VOLUMNIA. Ay, fool; is that a shame? Note but this, fool: + Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship + To banish him that struck more blows for Rome + Than thou hast spoken words? + SICINIUS. O blessed heavens! + VOLUMNIA. Moe noble blows than ever thou wise words; + And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what- yet go! + Nay, but thou shalt stay too. I would my son + Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, + His good sword in his hand. + SICINIUS. What then? + VIRGILIA. What then! + He'd make an end of thy posterity. + VOLUMNIA. Bastards and all. + Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome! + MENENIUS. Come, come, peace. + SICINIUS. I would he had continued to his country + As he began, and not unknit himself + The noble knot he made. + BRUTUS. I would he had. + VOLUMNIA. 'I would he had!' 'Twas you incens'd the rabble- + Cats that can judge as fitly of his worth + As I can of those mysteries which heaven + Will not have earth to know. + BRUTUS. Pray, let's go. + VOLUMNIA. Now, pray, sir, get you gone; + You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this: + As far as doth the Capitol exceed + The meanest house in Rome, so far my son- + This lady's husband here, this, do you see?- + Whom you have banish'd does exceed you an. + BRUTUS. Well, well, we'll leave you. + SICINIUS. Why stay we to be baited + With one that wants her wits? Exeunt TRIBUNES + VOLUMNIA. Take my prayers with you. + I would the gods had nothing else to do + But to confirm my curses. Could I meet 'em + But once a day, it would unclog my heart + Of what lies heavy to't. + MENENIUS. You have told them home, + And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me? + VOLUMNIA. Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself, + And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's go. + Leave this faint puling and lament as I do, + In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come. + Exeunt VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA + MENENIUS. Fie, fie, fie! Exit + + + + +SCENE III. +A highway between Rome and Antium + +Enter a ROMAN and a VOLSCE, meeting + + ROMAN. I know you well, sir, and you know me; your name, I think, + is Adrian. + VOLSCE. It is so, sir. Truly, I have forgot you. + ROMAN. I am a Roman; and my services are, as you are, against 'em. + Know you me yet? + VOLSCE. Nicanor? No! + ROMAN. The same, sir. + VOLSCE. YOU had more beard when I last saw you, but your favour is + well appear'd by your tongue. What's the news in Rome? I have a + note from the Volscian state, to find you out there. You have + well saved me a day's journey. + ROMAN. There hath been in Rome strange insurrections: the people + against the senators, patricians, and nobles. + VOLSCE. Hath been! Is it ended, then? Our state thinks not so; they + are in a most warlike preparation, and hope to come upon them in + the heat of their division. + ROMAN. The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make + it flame again; for the nobles receive so to heart the banishment + of that worthy Coriolanus that they are in a ripe aptness to take + all power from the people, and to pluck from them their tribunes + for ever. This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost mature + for the violent breaking out. + VOLSCE. Coriolanus banish'd! + ROMAN. Banish'd, sir. + VOLSCE. You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor. + ROMAN. The day serves well for them now. I have heard it said the + fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fall'n out + with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in + these wars, his great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no + request of his country. + VOLSCE. He cannot choose. I am most fortunate thus accidentally to + encounter you; you have ended my business, and I will merrily + accompany you home. + ROMAN. I shall between this and supper tell you most strange things + from Rome, all tending to the good of their adversaries. Have you + an army ready, say you? + VOLSCE. A most royal one: the centurions and their charges, + distinctly billeted, already in th' entertainment, and to be on + foot at an hour's warning. + ROMAN. I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man, I + think, that shall set them in present action. So, sir, heartily + well met, and most glad of your company. + VOLSCE. You take my part from me, sir. I have the most cause to be + glad of yours. + ROMAN. Well, let us go together. + + + + +SCENE IV. +Antium. Before AUFIDIUS' house + +Enter CORIOLANUS, in mean apparel, disguis'd and muffled + + CORIOLANUS. A goodly city is this Antium. City, + 'Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir + Of these fair edifices fore my wars + Have I heard groan and drop. Then know me not. + Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones, + In puny battle slay me. + + Enter A CITIZEN + + Save you, sir. + CITIZEN. And you. + CORIOLANUS. Direct me, if it be your will, + Where great Aufidius lies. Is he in Antium? + CITIZEN. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state + At his house this night. + CORIOLANUS. Which is his house, beseech you? + CITIZEN. This here before you. + CORIOLANUS. Thank you, sir; farewell. Exit CITIZEN + O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, + Whose double bosoms seems to wear one heart, + Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise + Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love, + Unseparable, shall within this hour, + On a dissension of a doit, break out + To bitterest enmity; so fellest foes, + Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep + To take the one the other, by some chance, + Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends + And interjoin their issues. So with me: + My birthplace hate I, and my love's upon + This enemy town. I'll enter. If he slay me, + He does fair justice: if he give me way, + I'll do his country service. + + + + +SCENE V. +Antium. AUFIDIUS' house + +Music plays. Enter A SERVINGMAN + + FIRST SERVANT. Wine, wine, wine! What service is here! I think our + fellows are asleep. Exit + + Enter another SERVINGMAN + + SECOND SERVANT.Where's Cotus? My master calls for him. + Cotus! Exit + + Enter CORIOLANUS + + CORIOLANUS. A goodly house. The feast smells well, but I + Appear not like a guest. + + Re-enter the first SERVINGMAN + + FIRST SERVANT. What would you have, friend? + Whence are you? Here's no place for you: pray go to the door. + Exit + CORIOLANUS. I have deserv'd no better entertainment + In being Coriolanus. + + Re-enter second SERVINGMAN + + SECOND SERVANT. Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his + head that he gives entrance to such companions? Pray get you out. + CORIOLANUS. Away! + SECOND SERVANT. Away? Get you away. + CORIOLANUS. Now th' art troublesome. + SECOND SERVANT. Are you so brave? I'll have you talk'd with anon. + + Enter a third SERVINGMAN. The first meets him + + THIRD SERVANT. What fellow's this? + FIRST SERVANT. A strange one as ever I look'd on. I cannot get him + out o' th' house. Prithee call my master to him. + THIRD SERVANT. What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you avoid the + house. + CORIOLANUS. Let me but stand- I will not hurt your hearth. + THIRD SERVANT. What are you? + CORIOLANUS. A gentleman. + THIRD SERVANT. A marv'llous poor one. + CORIOLANUS. True, so I am. + THIRD SERVANT. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other + station; here's no place for you. Pray you avoid. Come. + CORIOLANUS. Follow your function, go and batten on cold bits. + [Pushes him away from him] + THIRD SERVANT. What, you will not? Prithee tell my master what a + strange guest he has here. + SECOND SERVANT. And I shall. Exit + THIRD SERVANT. Where dwell'st thou? + CORIOLANUS. Under the canopy. + THIRD SERVANT. Under the canopy? + CORIOLANUS. Ay. + THIRD SERVANT. Where's that? + CORIOLANUS. I' th' city of kites and crows. + THIRD SERVANT. I' th' city of kites and crows! + What an ass it is! Then thou dwell'st with daws too? + CORIOLANUS. No, I serve not thy master. + THIRD SERVANT. How, sir! Do you meddle with my master? + CORIOLANUS. Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy + mistress. Thou prat'st and prat'st; serve with thy trencher; + hence! [Beats him away] + + Enter AUFIDIUS with the second SERVINGMAN + + AUFIDIUS. Where is this fellow? + SECOND SERVANT. Here, sir; I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for + disturbing the lords within. + AUFIDIUS. Whence com'st thou? What wouldst thou? Thy name? + Why speak'st not? Speak, man. What's thy name? + CORIOLANUS. [Unmuffling] If, Tullus, + Not yet thou know'st me, and, seeing me, dost not + Think me for the man I am, necessity + Commands me name myself. + AUFIDIUS. What is thy name? + CORIOLANUS. A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, + And harsh in sound to thine. + AUFIDIUS. Say, what's thy name? + Thou has a grim appearance, and thy face + Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn, + Thou show'st a noble vessel. What's thy name? + CORIOLANUS. Prepare thy brow to frown- know'st thou me yet? + AUFIDIUS. I know thee not. Thy name? + CORIOLANUS. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done + To thee particularly, and to all the Volsces, + Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may + My surname, Coriolanus. The painful service, + The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood + Shed for my thankless country, are requited + But with that surname- a good memory + And witness of the malice and displeasure + Which thou shouldst bear me. Only that name remains; + The cruelty and envy of the people, + Permitted by our dastard nobles, who + Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest, + An suffer'd me by th' voice of slaves to be + Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity + Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope, + Mistake me not, to save my life; for if + I had fear'd death, of all the men i' th' world + I would have 'voided thee; but in mere spite, + To be full quit of those my banishers, + Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast + A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge + Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims + Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight + And make my misery serve thy turn. So use it + That my revengeful services may prove + As benefits to thee; for I will fight + Against my cank'red country with the spleen + Of all the under fiends. But if so be + Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes + Th'art tir'd, then, in a word, I also am + Longer to live most weary, and present + My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; + Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, + Since I have ever followed thee with hate, + Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, + And cannot live but to thy shame, unless + It be to do thee service. + AUFIDIUS. O Marcius, Marcius! + Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart + A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter + Should from yond cloud speak divine things, + And say ''Tis true,' I'd not believe them more + Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine + Mine arms about that body, where against + My grained ash an hundred times hath broke + And scarr'd the moon with splinters; here I clip + The anvil of my sword, and do contest + As hotly and as nobly with thy love + As ever in ambitious strength I did + Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, + I lov'd the maid I married; never man + Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here, + Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart + Than when I first my wedded mistress saw + Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars, I tell the + We have a power on foot, and I had purpose + Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, + Or lose mine arm for't. Thou hast beat me out + Twelve several times, and I have nightly since + Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me- + We have been down together in my sleep, + Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat- + And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius, + Had we no other quarrel else to Rome but that + Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all + From twelve to seventy, and, pouring war + Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, + Like a bold flood o'erbeat. O, come, go in, + And take our friendly senators by th' hands, + Who now are here, taking their leaves of me + Who am prepar'd against your territories, + Though not for Rome itself. + CORIOLANUS. You bless me, gods! + AUFIDIUS. Therefore, most. absolute sir, if thou wilt have + The leading of thine own revenges, take + Th' one half of my commission, and set down- + As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st + Thy country's strength and weakness- thine own ways, + Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, + Or rudely visit them in parts remote + To fright them ere destroy. But come in; + Let me commend thee first to those that shall + Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! + And more a friend than e'er an enemy; + Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand; most welcome! + Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS + + The two SERVINGMEN come forward + + FIRST SERVANT. Here's a strange alteration! + SECOND SERVANT. By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with + a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report + of him. + FIRST SERVANT. What an arm he has! He turn'd me about with his + finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. + SECOND SERVANT. Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in + him; he had, sir, a kind of face, methought- I cannot tell how to + term it. + FIRST SERVANT. He had so, looking as it were- Would I were hang'd, + but I thought there was more in him than I could think. + SECOND SERVANT. So did I, I'll be sworn. He is simply the rarest + man i' th' world. + FIRST SERVANT. I think he is; but a greater soldier than he you wot + on. + SECOND SERVANT. Who, my master? + FIRST SERVANT. Nay, it's no matter for that. + SECOND SERVANT. Worth six on him. + FIRST SERVANT. Nay, not so neither; but I take him to be the + greater soldier. + SECOND SERVANT. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that; + for the defence of a town our general is excellent. + FIRST SERVANT. Ay, and for an assault too. + + Re-enter the third SERVINGMAN + + THIRD SERVANT. O slaves, I can tell you news- news, you rascals! + BOTH. What, what, what? Let's partake. + THIRD SERVANT. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; + I had as lief be a condemn'd man. + BOTH. Wherefore? wherefore? + THIRD SERVANT. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general- + Caius Marcius. + FIRST SERVANT. Why do you say 'thwack our general'? + THIRD SERVANT. I do not say 'thwack our general,' but he was always + good enough for him. + SECOND SERVANT. Come, we are fellows and friends. He was ever too + hard for him, I have heard him say so himself. + FIRST SERVANT. He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth + on't; before Corioli he scotch'd him and notch'd him like a + carbonado. + SECOND SERVANT. An he had been cannibally given, he might have + broil'd and eaten him too. + FIRST SERVANT. But more of thy news! + THIRD SERVANT. Why, he is so made on here within as if he were son + and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' th' table; no question + asked him by any of the senators but they stand bald before him. + Our general himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself + with's hand, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his discourse. + But the bottom of the news is, our general is cut i' th' middle + and but one half of what he was yesterday, for the other has half + by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, + and sowl the porter of Rome gates by th' ears; he will mow all + down before him, and leave his passage poll'd. + SECOND SERVANT. And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine. + THIRD SERVANT. Do't! He will do't; for look you, sir, he has as + many friends as enemies; which friends, sir, as it were, durst + not- look you, sir- show themselves, as we term it, his friends, + whilst he's in directitude. + FIRST SERVANT. Directitude? What's that? + THIRD SERVANT. But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again and + the man in blood, they will out of their burrows, like conies + after rain, and revel an with him. + FIRST SERVANT. But when goes this forward? + THIRD SERVANT. To-morrow, to-day, presently. You shall have the + drum struck up this afternoon; 'tis as it were parcel of their + feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. + SECOND SERVANT. Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. + This peace is nothing but to rust iron, increase tailors, and + breed ballad-makers. + FIRST SERVANT. Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as + day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. + Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mull'd, deaf, sleepy, + insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war's a + destroyer of men. + SECOND SERVANT. 'Tis so; and as war in some sort may be said to be + a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of + cuckolds. + FIRST SERVANT. Ay, and it makes men hate one another. + THIRD SERVANT. Reason: because they then less need one another. The + wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. + They are rising, they are rising. + BOTH. In, in, in, in! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +Rome. A public place + +Enter the two Tribunes, SICINIUS and BRUTUS + + SICINIUS. We hear not of him, neither need we fear him. + His remedies are tame. The present peace + And quietness of the people, which before + Were in wild hurry, here do make his friends + Blush that the world goes well; who rather had, + Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold + Dissentious numbers pest'ring streets than see + Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going + About their functions friendly. + + Enter MENENIUS + + BRUTUS. We stood to't in good time. Is this Menenius? + SICINIUS. 'Tis he, 'tis he. O, he is grown most kind + Of late. Hail, sir! + MENENIUS. Hail to you both! + SICINIUS. Your Coriolanus is not much miss'd + But with his friends. The commonwealth doth stand, + And so would do, were he more angry at it. + MENENIUS. All's well, and might have been much better + He could have temporiz'd. + SICINIUS. Where is he, hear you? + MENENIUS. Nay, I hear nothing; his mother and his wife + Hear nothing from him. + + Enter three or four citizens + + CITIZENS. The gods preserve you both! + SICINIUS. God-den, our neighbours. + BRUTUS. God-den to you all, god-den to you an. + FIRST CITIZEN. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees + Are bound to pray for you both. + SICINIUS. Live and thrive! + BRUTUS. Farewell, kind neighbours; we wish'd Coriolanus + Had lov'd you as we did. + CITIZENS. Now the gods keep you! + BOTH TRIBUNES. Farewell, farewell. Exeunt citizens + SICINIUS. This is a happier and more comely time + Than when these fellows ran about the streets + Crying confusion. + BRUTUS. Caius Marcius was + A worthy officer i' the war, but insolent, + O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking, + Self-loving- + SICINIUS. And affecting one sole throne, + Without assistance. + MENENIUS. I think not so. + SICINIUS. We should by this, to all our lamentation, + If he had gone forth consul, found it so. + BRUTUS. The gods have well prevented it, and Rome + Sits safe and still without him. + + Enter an AEDILE + + AEDILE. Worthy tribunes, + There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, + Reports the Volsces with several powers + Are ent'red in the Roman territories, + And with the deepest malice of the war + Destroy what lies before 'em. + MENENIUS. 'Tis Aufidius, + Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment, + Thrusts forth his horns again into the world, + Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome, + And durst not once peep out. + SICINIUS. Come, what talk you of Marcius? + BRUTUS. Go see this rumourer whipp'd. It cannot be + The Volsces dare break with us. + MENENIUS. Cannot be! + We have record that very well it can; + And three examples of the like hath been + Within my age. But reason with the fellow + Before you punish him, where he heard this, + Lest you shall chance to whip your information + And beat the messenger who bids beware + Of what is to be dreaded. + SICINIUS. Tell not me. + I know this cannot be. + BRUTUS. Not Possible. + + Enter A MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. The nobles in great earnestness are going + All to the Senate House; some news is come + That turns their countenances. + SICINIUS. 'Tis this slave- + Go whip him fore the people's eyes- his raising, + Nothing but his report. + MESSENGER. Yes, worthy sir, + The slave's report is seconded, and more, + More fearful, is deliver'd. + SICINIUS. What more fearful? + MESSENGER. It is spoke freely out of many mouths- + How probable I do not know- that Marcius, + Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome, + And vows revenge as spacious as between + The young'st and oldest thing. + SICINIUS. This is most likely! + BRUTUS. Rais'd only that the weaker sort may wish + Good Marcius home again. + SICINIUS. The very trick on 't. + MENENIUS. This is unlikely. + He and Aufidius can no more atone + Than violent'st contrariety. + + Enter a second MESSENGER + + SECOND MESSENGER. You are sent for to the Senate. + A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius + Associated with Aufidius, rages + Upon our territories, and have already + O'erborne their way, consum'd with fire and took + What lay before them. + + Enter COMINIUS + + COMINIUS. O, you have made good work! + MENENIUS. What news? what news? + COMINIUS. You have holp to ravish your own daughters and + To melt the city leads upon your pates, + To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses- + MENENIUS. What's the news? What's the news? + COMINIUS. Your temples burned in their cement, and + Your franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd + Into an auger's bore. + MENENIUS. Pray now, your news? + You have made fair work, I fear me. Pray, your news. + If Marcius should be join'd wi' th' Volscians- + COMINIUS. If! + He is their god; he leads them like a thing + Made by some other deity than Nature, + That shapes man better; and they follow him + Against us brats with no less confidence + Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, + Or butchers killing flies. + MENENIUS. You have made good work, + You and your apron men; you that stood so much + Upon the voice of occupation and + The breath of garlic-eaters! + COMINIUS. He'll shake + Your Rome about your ears. + MENENIUS. As Hercules + Did shake down mellow fruit. You have made fair work! + BRUTUS. But is this true, sir? + COMINIUS. Ay; and you'll look pale + Before you find it other. All the regions + Do smilingly revolt, and who resists + Are mock'd for valiant ignorance, + And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame him? + Your enemies and his find something in him. + MENENIUS. We are all undone unless + The noble man have mercy. + COMINIUS. Who shall ask it? + The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people + Deserve such pity of him as the wolf + Does of the shepherds; for his best friends, if they + Should say 'Be good to Rome'- they charg'd him even + As those should do that had deserv'd his hate, + And therein show'd fike enemies. + MENENIUS. 'Tis true; + If he were putting to my house the brand + That should consume it, I have not the face + To say 'Beseech you, cease.' You have made fair hands, + You and your crafts! You have crafted fair! + COMINIUS. You have brought + A trembling upon Rome, such as was never + S' incapable of help. + BOTH TRIBUNES. Say not we brought it. + MENENIUS. How! Was't we? We lov'd him, but, like beasts + And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters, + Who did hoot him out o' th' city. + COMINIUS. But I fear + They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, + The second name of men, obeys his points + As if he were his officer. Desperation + Is all the policy, strength, and defence, + That Rome can make against them. + + Enter a troop of citizens + + MENENIUS. Here comes the clusters. + And is Aufidius with him? You are they + That made the air unwholesome when you cast + Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at + Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming, + And not a hair upon a soldier's head + Which will not prove a whip; as many coxcombs + As you threw caps up will he tumble down, + And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter; + If he could burn us all into one coal + We have deserv'd it. + PLEBEIANS. Faith, we hear fearful news. + FIRST CITIZEN. For mine own part, + When I said banish him, I said 'twas pity. + SECOND CITIZEN. And so did I. + THIRD CITIZEN. And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did very + many of us. That we did, we did for the best; and though we + willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our + will. + COMINIUS. Y'are goodly things, you voices! + MENENIUS. You have made + Good work, you and your cry! Shall's to the Capitol? + COMINIUS. O, ay, what else? + Exeunt COMINIUS and MENENIUS + SICINIUS. Go, masters, get you be not dismay'd; + These are a side that would be glad to have + This true which they so seem to fear. Go home, + And show no sign of fear. + FIRST CITIZEN. The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home. I + ever said we were i' th' wrong when we banish'd him. + SECOND CITIZEN. So did we all. But come, let's home. + Exeunt citizens + BRUTUS. I do not like this news. + SICINIUS. Nor I. + BRUTUS. Let's to the Capitol. Would half my wealth + Would buy this for a lie! + SICINIUS. Pray let's go. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VII. +A camp at a short distance from Rome + +Enter AUFIDIUS with his LIEUTENANT + + AUFIDIUS. Do they still fly to th' Roman? + LIEUTENANT. I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but + Your soldiers use him as the grace fore meat, + Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; + And you are dark'ned in this action, sir, + Even by your own. + AUFIDIUS. I cannot help it now, + Unless by using means I lame the foot + Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier, + Even to my person, than I thought he would + When first I did embrace him; yet his nature + In that's no changeling, and I must excuse + What cannot be amended. + LIEUTENANT. Yet I wish, sir- + I mean, for your particular- you had not + Join'd in commission with him, but either + Had borne the action of yourself, or else + To him had left it solely. + AUFIDIUS. I understand thee well; and be thou sure, + When he shall come to his account, he knows not + What I can urge against him. Although it seems, + And so he thinks, and is no less apparent + To th' vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly + And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, + Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon + As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone + That which shall break his neck or hazard mine + Whene'er we come to our account. + LIEUTENANT. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome? + AUFIDIUS. All places yield to him ere he sits down, + And the nobility of Rome are his; + The senators and patricians love him too. + The tribunes are no soldiers, and their people + Will be as rash in the repeal as hasty + To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome + As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it + By sovereignty of nature. First he was + A noble servant to them, but he could not + Carry his honours even. Whether 'twas pride, + Which out of daily fortune ever taints + The happy man; whether defect of judgment, + To fail in the disposing of those chances + Which he was lord of; or whether nature, + Not to be other than one thing, not moving + From th' casque to th' cushion, but commanding peace + Even with the same austerity and garb + As he controll'd the war; but one of these- + As he hath spices of them all- not all, + For I dare so far free him- made him fear'd, + So hated, and so banish'd. But he has a merit + To choke it in the utt'rance. So our virtues + Lie in th' interpretation of the time; + And power, unto itself most commendable, + Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair + T' extol what it hath done. + One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; + Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail. + Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, + Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine. + Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Rome. A public place + +Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS and BRUTUS, the two Tribunes, with others + + MENENIUS. No, I'll not go. You hear what he hath said + Which was sometime his general, who lov'd him + In a most dear particular. He call'd me father; + But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him: + A mile before his tent fall down, and knee + The way into his mercy. Nay, if he coy'd + To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. + COMINIUS. He would not seem to know me. + MENENIUS. Do you hear? + COMINIUS. Yet one time he did call me by my name. + I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops + That we have bled together. 'Coriolanus' + He would not answer to; forbid all names; + He was a kind of nothing, titleless, + Till he had forg'd himself a name i' th' fire + Of burning Rome. + MENENIUS. Why, so! You have made good work. + A pair of tribunes that have wrack'd for Rome + To make coals cheap- a noble memory! + COMINIUS. I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon + When it was less expected; he replied, + It was a bare petition of a state + To one whom they had punish'd. + MENENIUS. Very well. + Could he say less? + COMINIUS. I offer'd to awaken his regard + For's private friends; his answer to me was, + He could not stay to pick them in a pile + Of noisome musty chaff. He said 'twas folly, + For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt + And still to nose th' offence. + MENENIUS. For one poor grain or two! + I am one of those. His mother, wife, his child, + And this brave fellow too- we are the grains: + You are the musty chaff, and you are smelt + Above the moon. We must be burnt for you. + SICINIUS. Nay, pray be patient; if you refuse your aid + In this so never-needed help, yet do not + Upbraid's with our distress. But sure, if you + Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue, + More than the instant army we can make, + Might stop our countryman. + MENENIUS. No; I'll not meddle. + SICINIUS. Pray you go to him. + MENENIUS. What should I do? + BRUTUS. Only make trial what your love can do + For Rome, towards Marcius. + MENENIUS. Well, and say that Marcius + Return me, as Cominius is return'd, + Unheard- what then? + But as a discontented friend, grief-shot + With his unkindness? Say't be so? + SICINIUS. Yet your good will + Must have that thanks from Rome after the measure + As you intended well. + MENENIUS. I'll undertake't; + I think he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip + And hum at good Cominius much unhearts me. + He was not taken well: he had not din'd; + The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then + We pout upon the morning, are unapt + To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd + These pipes and these conveyances of our blood + With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls + Than in our priest-like fasts. Therefore I'll watch him + Till he be dieted to my request, + And then I'll set upon him. + BRUTUS. You know the very road into his kindness + And cannot lose your way. + MENENIUS. Good faith, I'll prove him, + Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge + Of my success. Exit + COMINIUS. He'll never hear him. + SICINIUS. Not? + COMINIUS. I tell you he does sit in gold, his eye + Red as 'twould burn Rome, and his injury + The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him; + 'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise'; dismiss'd me + Thus with his speechless hand. What he would do, + He sent in writing after me; what he would not, + Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions; + So that all hope is vain, + Unless his noble mother and his wife, + Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him + For mercy to his country. Therefore let's hence, + And with our fair entreaties haste them on. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +The Volscian camp before Rome + +Enter MENENIUS to the WATCH on guard + + FIRST WATCH. Stay. Whence are you? + SECOND WATCH. Stand, and go back. + MENENIUS. You guard like men, 'tis well; but, by your leave, + I am an officer of state and come + To speak with Coriolanus. + FIRST WATCH. From whence? + MENENIUS. From Rome. + FIRST WATCH. YOU may not pass; you must return. Our general + Will no more hear from thence. + SECOND WATCH. You'll see your Rome embrac'd with fire before + You'll speak with Coriolanus. + MENENIUS. Good my friends, + If you have heard your general talk of Rome + And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks + My name hath touch'd your ears: it is Menenius. + FIRST WATCH. Be it so; go back. The virtue of your name + Is not here passable. + MENENIUS. I tell thee, fellow, + Thy general is my lover. I have been + The book of his good acts whence men have read + His fame unparallel'd haply amplified; + For I have ever verified my friends- + Of whom he's chief- with all the size that verity + Would without lapsing suffer. Nay, sometimes, + Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, + I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praise + Have almost stamp'd the leasing; therefore, fellow, + I must have leave to pass. + FIRST WATCH. Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf + as you have uttered words in your own, you should not pass here; + no, though it were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely. + Therefore go back. + MENENIUS. Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always + factionary on the party of your general. + SECOND WATCH. Howsoever you have been his liar, as you say you + have, I am one that, telling true under him, must say you cannot + pass. Therefore go back. + MENENIUS. Has he din'd, canst thou tell? For I would not speak with + him till after dinner. + FIRST WATCH. You are a Roman, are you? + MENENIUS. I am as thy general is. + FIRST WATCH. Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, when + you have push'd out your gates the very defender of them, and in + a violent popular ignorance given your enemy your shield, think + to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the + virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied + intercession of such a decay'd dotant as you seem to be? Can you + think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame + in with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceiv'd; therefore + back to Rome and prepare for your execution. You are condemn'd; + our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon. + MENENIUS. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would use me + with estimation. + FIRST WATCH. Come, my captain knows you not. + MENENIUS. I mean thy general. + FIRST WATCH. My general cares not for you. Back, I say; go, lest I + let forth your half pint of blood. Back- that's the utmost of + your having. Back. + MENENIUS. Nay, but fellow, fellow- + + Enter CORIOLANUS with AUFIDIUS + + CORIOLANUS. What's the matter? + MENENIUS. Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you; you shall + know now that I am in estimation; you shall perceive that a Jack + guardant cannot office me from my son Coriolanus. Guess but by my + entertainment with him if thou stand'st not i' th' state of + hanging, or of some death more long in spectatorship and crueller + in suffering; behold now presently, and swoon for what's to come + upon thee. The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy + particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than thy old father + Menenius does! O my son! my son! thou art preparing fire for us; + look thee, here's water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come + to thee; but being assured none but myself could move thee, I + have been blown out of your gates with sighs, and conjure thee to + pardon Rome and thy petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage + thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here; this, + who, like a block, hath denied my access to thee. + CORIOLANUS. Away! + MENENIUS. How! away! + CORIOLANUS. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs + Are servanted to others. Though I owe + My revenge properly, my remission lies + In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar, + Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison rather + Than pity note how much. Therefore be gone. + Mine ears against your suits are stronger than + Your gates against my force. Yet, for I lov'd thee, + Take this along; I writ it for thy sake [Gives a letter] + And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius, + I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius, + Was my belov'd in Rome; yet thou behold'st. + AUFIDIUS. You keep a constant temper. + Exeunt CORIOLANUS and Aufidius + FIRST WATCH. Now, sir, is your name Menenius? + SECOND WATCH. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power! You know the + way home again. + FIRST WATCH. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your + greatness back? + SECOND WATCH. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon? + MENENIUS. I neither care for th' world nor your general; for such + things as you, I can scarce think there's any, y'are so slight. + He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another. + Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; + and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I was + said to: Away! Exit + FIRST WATCH. A noble fellow, I warrant him. + SECOND WATCH. The worthy fellow is our general; he's the rock, the + oak not to be wind-shaken. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +The tent of CORIOLANUS + +Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others + + CORIOLANUS. We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow + Set down our host. My partner in this action, + You must report to th' Volscian lords how plainly + I have borne this business. + AUFIDIUS. Only their ends + You have respected; stopp'd your ears against + The general suit of Rome; never admitted + A private whisper- no, not with such friends + That thought them sure of you. + CORIOLANUS. This last old man, + Whom with crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, + Lov'd me above the measure of a father; + Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refuge + Was to send him; for whose old love I have- + Though I show'd sourly to him- once more offer'd + The first conditions, which they did refuse + And cannot now accept. To grace him only, + That thought he could do more, a very little + I have yielded to; fresh embassies and suits, + Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter + Will I lend ear to. [Shout within] Ha! what shout is this? + Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow + In the same time 'tis made? I will not. + + Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, VALERIA, + YOUNG MARCIUS, with attendants + + My wife comes foremost, then the honour'd mould + Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand + The grandchild to her blood. But out, affection! + All bond and privilege of nature, break! + Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. + What is that curtsy worth? or those doves' eyes, + Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not + Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows, + As if Olympus to a molehill should + In supplication nod; and my young boy + Hath an aspect of intercession which + Great nature cries 'Deny not.' Let the Volsces + Plough Rome and harrow Italy; I'll never + Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand + As if a man were author of himself + And knew no other kin. + VIRGILIA. My lord and husband! + CORIOLANUS. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. + VIRGILIA. The sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd + Makes you think so. + CORIOLANUS. Like a dull actor now + I have forgot my part and I am out, + Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, + Forgive my tyranny; but do not say, + For that, 'Forgive our Romans.' O, a kiss + Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! + Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss + I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip + Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate, + And the most noble mother of the world + Leave unsaluted. Sink, my knee, i' th' earth; [Kneels] + Of thy deep duty more impression show + Than that of common sons. + VOLUMNIA. O, stand up blest! + Whilst with no softer cushion than the flint + I kneel before thee, and unproperly + Show duty, as mistaken all this while + Between the child and parent. [Kneels] + CORIOLANUS. What's this? + Your knees to me, to your corrected son? + Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach + Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds + Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun, + Murd'ring impossibility, to make + What cannot be slight work. + VOLUMNIA. Thou art my warrior; + I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? + CORIOLANUS. The noble sister of Publicola, + The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle + That's curdied by the frost from purest snow, + And hangs on Dian's temple- dear Valeria! + VOLUMNIA. This is a poor epitome of yours, + Which by th' interpretation of full time + May show like all yourself. + CORIOLANUS. The god of soldiers, + With the consent of supreme Jove, inform + Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst prove + To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' th' wars + Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, + And saving those that eye thee! + VOLUMNIA. Your knee, sirrah. + CORIOLANUS. That's my brave boy. + VOLUMNIA. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, + Are suitors to you. + CORIOLANUS. I beseech you, peace! + Or, if you'd ask, remember this before: + The thing I have forsworn to grant may never + Be held by you denials. Do not bid me + Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate + Again with Rome's mechanics. Tell me not + Wherein I seem unnatural; desire not + T'allay my rages and revenges with + Your colder reasons. + VOLUMNIA. O, no more, no more! + You have said you will not grant us any thing- + For we have nothing else to ask but that + Which you deny already; yet we will ask, + That, if you fail in our request, the blame + May hang upon your hardness; therefore hear us. + CORIOLANUS. Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll + Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request? + VOLUMNIA. Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment + And state of bodies would bewray what life + We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself + How more unfortunate than all living women + Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should + Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, + Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow, + Making the mother, wife, and child, to see + The son, the husband, and the father, tearing + His country's bowels out. And to poor we + Thine enmity's most capital: thou bar'st us + Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort + That all but we enjoy. For how can we, + Alas, how can we for our country pray, + Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, + Whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose + The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, + Our comfort in the country. We must find + An evident calamity, though we had + Our wish, which side should win; for either thou + Must as a foreign recreant be led + With manacles through our streets, or else + Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, + And bear the palm for having bravely shed + Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, + I purpose not to wait on fortune till + These wars determine; if I can not persuade thee + Rather to show a noble grace to both parts + Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner + March to assault thy country than to tread- + Trust to't, thou shalt not- on thy mother's womb + That brought thee to this world. + VIRGILIA. Ay, and mine, + That brought you forth this boy to keep your name + Living to time. + BOY. 'A shall not tread on me! + I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight. + CORIOLANUS. Not of a woman's tenderness to be + Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. + I have sat too long. [Rising] + VOLUMNIA. Nay, go not from us thus. + If it were so that our request did tend + To save the Romans, thereby to destroy + The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us + As poisonous of your honour. No, our suit + Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces + May say 'This mercy we have show'd,' the Romans + 'This we receiv'd,' and each in either side + Give the all-hail to thee, and cry 'Be blest + For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son, + The end of war's uncertain; but this certain, + That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit + Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name + Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; + Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble, + But with his last attempt he wip'd it out, + Destroy'd his country, and his name remains + To th' ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son. + Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, + To imitate the graces of the gods, + To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' th' air, + And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt + That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? + Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man + Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you: + He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy; + Perhaps thy childishness will move him more + Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world + More bound to's mother, yet here he lets me prate + Like one i' th' stocks. Thou hast never in thy life + Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy, + When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, + Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home + Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust, + And spurn me back; but if it he not so, + Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee, + That thou restrain'st from me the duty which + To a mother's part belongs. He turns away. + Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees. + To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride + Than pity to our prayers. Down. An end; + This is the last. So we will home to Rome, + And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold's! + This boy, that cannot tell what he would have + But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship, + Does reason our petition with more strength + Than thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go. + This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; + His wife is in Corioli, and his child + Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch. + I am hush'd until our city be afire, + And then I'll speak a little. + [He holds her by the hand, silent] + CORIOLANUS. O mother, mother! + What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, + The gods look down, and this unnatural scene + They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! + You have won a happy victory to Rome; + But for your son- believe it, O, believe it!- + Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, + If not most mortal to him. But let it come. + Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, + I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, + Were you in my stead, would you have heard + A mother less, or granted less, Aufidius? + AUFIDIUS. I was mov'd withal. + CORIOLANUS. I dare be sworn you were! + And, sir, it is no little thing to make + Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, + What peace you'fl make, advise me. For my part, + I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you + Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife! + AUFIDIUS. [Aside] I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy + honour + At difference in thee. Out of that I'll work + Myself a former fortune. + CORIOLANUS. [To the ladies] Ay, by and by; + But we will drink together; and you shall bear + A better witness back than words, which we, + On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. + Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve + To have a temple built you. All the swords + In Italy, and her confederate arms, + Could not have made this peace. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Rome. A public place + +Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS + + MENENIUS. See you yond coign o' th' Capitol, yond cornerstone? + SICINIUS. Why, what of that? + MENENIUS. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little + finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his + mother, may prevail with him. But I say there is no hope in't; + our throats are sentenc'd, and stay upon execution. + SICINIUS. Is't possible that so short a time can alter the + condition of a man? + MENENIUS. There is differency between a grub and a butterfly; yet + your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to + dragon; he has wings, he's more than a creeping thing. + SICINIUS. He lov'd his mother dearly. + MENENIUS. So did he me; and he no more remembers his mother now + than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe + grapes; when he walks, he moves like an engine and the ground + shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with + his eye, talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in + his state as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done is + finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but + eternity, and a heaven to throne in. + SICINIUS. Yes- mercy, if you report him truly. + MENENIUS. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother + shall bring from him. There is no more mercy in him than there is + milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find. And all this + is 'long of you. + SICINIUS. The gods be good unto us! + MENENIUS. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. + When we banish'd him we respected not them; and, he returning to + break our necks, they respect not us. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house. + The plebeians have got your fellow tribune + And hale him up and down; all swearing if + The Roman ladies bring not comfort home + They'll give him death by inches. + + Enter another MESSENGER + + SICINIUS. What's the news? + SECOND MESSENGER. Good news, good news! The ladies have prevail'd, + The Volscians are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone. + A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, + No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins. + SICINIUS. Friend, + Art thou certain this is true? Is't most certain? + SECOND MESSENGER. As certain as I know the sun is fire. + Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it? + Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide + As the recomforted through th' gates. Why, hark you! + [Trumpets, hautboys, drums beat, all together] + The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, + Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, + Make the sun dance. Hark you! [A shout within] + MENENIUS. This is good news. + I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia + Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, + A city full; of tribunes such as you, + A sea and land full. You have pray'd well to-day: + This morning for ten thousand of your throats + I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy! + [Sound still with the shouts] + SICINIUS. First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next, + Accept my thankfulness. + SECOND MESSENGER. Sir, we have all + Great cause to give great thanks. + SICINIUS. They are near the city? + MESSENGER. Almost at point to enter. + SICINIUS. We'll meet them, + And help the joy. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Rome. A street near the gate + +Enter two SENATORS With VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, passing over the stage, +'With other LORDS + + FIRST SENATOR. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome! + Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, + And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them. + Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, + Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; + ALL. Welcome, ladies, welcome! + [A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt] + + + + +SCENE VI. +Corioli. A public place + +Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS with attendents + + AUFIDIUS. Go tell the lords o' th' city I am here; + Deliver them this paper' having read it, + Bid them repair to th' market-place, where I, + Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, + Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse + The city ports by this hath enter'd and + Intends t' appear before the people, hoping + To purge himself with words. Dispatch. + Exeunt attendants + + Enter three or four CONSPIRATORS of AUFIDIUS' faction + + Most welcome! + FIRST CONSPIRATOR. How is it with our general? + AUFIDIUS. Even so + As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, + And with his charity slain. + SECOND CONSPIRATOR. Most noble sir, + If you do hold the same intent wherein + You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you + Of your great danger. + AUFIDIUS. Sir, I cannot tell; + We must proceed as we do find the people. + THIRD CONSPIRATOR. The people will remain uncertain whilst + 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either + Makes the survivor heir of all. + AUFIDIUS. I know it; + And my pretext to strike at him admits + A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd + Mine honour for his truth; who being so heighten'd, + He watered his new plants with dews of flattery, + Seducing so my friends; and to this end + He bow'd his nature, never known before + But to be rough, unswayable, and free. + THIRD CONSPIRATOR. Sir, his stoutness + When he did stand for consul, which he lost + By lack of stooping- + AUFIDIUS. That I would have spoken of. + Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth, + Presented to my knife his throat. I took him; + Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way + In all his own desires; nay, let him choose + Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, + My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments + In mine own person; holp to reap the fame + Which he did end all his, and took some pride + To do myself this wrong. Till, at the last, + I seem'd his follower, not partner; and + He wag'd me with his countenance as if + I had been mercenary. + FIRST CONSPIRATOR. So he did, my lord. + The army marvell'd at it; and, in the last, + When he had carried Rome and that we look'd + For no less spoil than glory- + AUFIDIUS. There was it; + For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. + At a few drops of women's rheum, which are + As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour + Of our great action; therefore shall he die, + And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! + [Drums and + trumpets sound, with great shouts of the people] + FIRST CONSPIRATOR. Your native town you enter'd like a post, + And had no welcomes home; but he returns + Splitting the air with noise. + SECOND CONSPIRATOR. And patient fools, + Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear + With giving him glory. + THIRD CONSPIRATOR. Therefore, at your vantage, + Ere he express himself or move the people + With what he would say, let him feel your sword, + Which we will second. When he lies along, + After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury + His reasons with his body. + AUFIDIUS. Say no more: + Here come the lords. + + Enter the LORDS of the city + + LORDS. You are most welcome home. + AUFIDIUS. I have not deserv'd it. + But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused + What I have written to you? + LORDS. We have. + FIRST LORD. And grieve to hear't. + What faults he made before the last, I think + Might have found easy fines; but there to end + Where he was to begin, and give away + The benefit of our levies, answering us + With our own charge, making a treaty where + There was a yielding- this admits no excuse. + AUFIDIUS. He approaches; you shall hear him. + + Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and colours; + the commoners being with him + + CORIOLANUS. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier; + No more infected with my country's love + Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting + Under your great command. You are to know + That prosperously I have attempted, and + With bloody passage led your wars even to + The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home + Doth more than counterpoise a full third part + The charges of the action. We have made peace + With no less honour to the Antiates + Than shame to th' Romans; and we here deliver, + Subscrib'd by th' consuls and patricians, + Together with the seal o' th' Senate, what + We have compounded on. + AUFIDIUS. Read it not, noble lords; + But tell the traitor in the highest degree + He hath abus'd your powers. + CORIOLANUS. Traitor! How now? + AUFIDIUS. Ay, traitor, Marcius. + CORIOLANUS. Marcius! + AUFIDIUS. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius! Dost thou think + I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name + Coriolanus, in Corioli? + You lords and heads o' th' state, perfidiously + He has betray'd your business and given up, + For certain drops of salt, your city Rome- + I say your city- to his wife and mother; + Breaking his oath and resolution like + A twist of rotten silk; never admitting + Counsel o' th' war; but at his nurse's tears + He whin'd and roar'd away your victory, + That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart + Look'd wond'ring each at others. + CORIOLANUS. Hear'st thou, Mars? + AUFIDIUS. Name not the god, thou boy of tears- + CORIOLANUS. Ha! + AUFIDIUS. -no more. + CORIOLANUS. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart + Too great for what contains it. 'Boy'! O slave! + Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever + I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, + Must give this cur the lie; and his own notion- + Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him, that + Must bear my beating to his grave- shall join + To thrust the lie unto him. + FIRST LORD. Peace, both, and hear me speak. + CORIOLANUS. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads, + Stain all your edges on me. 'Boy'! False hound! + If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there + That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I + Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli. + Alone I did it. 'Boy'! + AUFIDIUS. Why, noble lords, + Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, + Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, + Fore your own eyes and ears? + CONSPIRATORS. Let him die for't. + ALL THE PEOPLE. Tear him to pieces. Do it presently. He kill'd my + son. My daughter. He kill'd my cousin Marcus. He kill'd my + father. + SECOND LORD. Peace, ho! No outrage- peace! + The man is noble, and his fame folds in + This orb o' th' earth. His last offences to us + Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, + And trouble not the peace. + CORIOLANUS. O that I had him, + With six Aufidiuses, or more- his tribe, + To use my lawful sword! + AUFIDIUS. Insolent villain! + CONSPIRATORS. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! + [The CONSPIRATORS draw and kill CORIOLANUS,who falls. + AUFIDIUS stands on him] + LORDS. Hold, hold, hold, hold! + AUFIDIUS. My noble masters, hear me speak. + FIRST LORD. O Tullus! + SECOND LORD. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. + THIRD LORD. Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet; + Put up your swords. + AUFIDIUS. My lords, when you shall know- as in this rage, + Provok'd by him, you cannot- the great danger + Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice + That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours + To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver + Myself your loyal servant, or endure + Your heaviest censure. + FIRST LORD. Bear from hence his body, + And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded + As the most noble corse that ever herald + Did follow to his um. + SECOND LORD. His own impatience + Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. + Let's make the best of it. + AUFIDIUS. My rage is gone, + And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. + Help, three o' th' chiefest soldiers; I'll be one. + Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully; + Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he + Hath widowed and unchilded many a one, + Which to this hour bewail the injury, + Yet he shall have a noble memory. + Assist. Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS + [A dead march sounded] + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1609 + +CYMBELINE + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + CYMBELINE, King of Britain + CLOTEN, son to the Queen by a former husband + POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, a gentleman, husband to Imogen + BELARIUS, a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan + + GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS, sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the + names of POLYDORE and CADWAL, supposed sons to Belarius + PHILARIO, Italian, friend to Posthumus + IACHIMO, Italian, friend to Philario + A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, friend to Philario + CAIUS LUCIUS, General of the Roman Forces + A ROMAN CAPTAIN + TWO BRITISH CAPTAINS + PISANIO, servant to Posthumus + CORNELIUS, a physician + TWO LORDS of Cymbeline's court + TWO GENTLEMEN of the same + TWO GAOLERS + + QUEEN, wife to Cymbeline + IMOGEN, daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen + HELEN, a lady attending on Imogen + + APPARITIONS + + Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Soothsayer, a + Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, + Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants + + + +<> + + + + +SCENE: +Britain; Italy + + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Britain. The garden of CYMBELINE'S palace + + FIRST GENTLEMAN. You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods + No more obey the heavens than our courtiers + Still seem as does the King's. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. But what's the matter? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom + He purpos'd to his wife's sole son- a widow + That late he married- hath referr'd herself + Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She's wedded; + Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd. All + Is outward sorrow, though I think the King + Be touch'd at very heart. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. None but the King? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath lost her too. So is the Queen, + That most desir'd the match. But not a courtier, + Although they wear their faces to the bent + Of the King's looks, hath a heart that is not + Glad at the thing they scowl at. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. And why so? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath miss'd the Princess is a thing + Too bad for bad report; and he that hath her- + I mean that married her, alack, good man! + And therefore banish'd- is a creature such + As, to seek through the regions of the earth + For one his like, there would be something failing + In him that should compare. I do not think + So fair an outward and such stuff within + Endows a man but he. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. You speak him far. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I do extend him, sir, within himself; + Crush him together rather than unfold + His measure duly. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. What's his name and birth? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I cannot delve him to the root; his father + Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour + Against the Romans with Cassibelan, + But had his titles by Tenantius, whom + He serv'd with glory and admir'd success, + So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus; + And had, besides this gentleman in question, + Two other sons, who, in the wars o' th' time, + Died with their swords in hand; for which their father, + Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow + That he quit being; and his gentle lady, + Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd + As he was born. The King he takes the babe + To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, + Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, + Puts to him all the learnings that his time + Could make him the receiver of; which he took, + As we do air, fast as 'twas minist'red, + And in's spring became a harvest, liv'd in court- + Which rare it is to do- most prais'd, most lov'd, + A sample to the youngest; to th' more mature + A glass that feated them; and to the graver + A child that guided dotards. To his mistress, + For whom he now is banish'd- her own price + Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; + By her election may be truly read + What kind of man he is. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I honour him + Even out of your report. But pray you tell me, + Is she sole child to th' King? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. His only child. + He had two sons- if this be worth your hearing, + Mark it- the eldest of them at three years old, + I' th' swathing clothes the other, from their nursery + Were stol'n; and to this hour no guess in knowledge + Which way they went. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. How long is this ago? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Some twenty years. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. That a king's children should be so convey'd, + So slackly guarded, and the search so slow + That could not trace them! + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, + Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, + Yet is it true, sir. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I do well believe you. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. We must forbear; here comes the gentleman, + The Queen, and Princess. Exeunt + + Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN + + QUEEN. No, be assur'd you shall not find me, daughter, + After the slander of most stepmothers, + Evil-ey'd unto you. You're my prisoner, but + Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys + That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, + So soon as I can win th' offended King, + I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet + The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good + You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience + Your wisdom may inform you. + POSTHUMUS. Please your Highness, + I will from hence to-day. + QUEEN. You know the peril. + I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying + The pangs of barr'd affections, though the King + Hath charg'd you should not speak together. Exit + IMOGEN. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant + Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, + I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing- + Always reserv'd my holy duty- what + His rage can do on me. You must be gone; + And I shall here abide the hourly shot + Of angry eyes, not comforted to live + But that there is this jewel in the world + That I may see again. + POSTHUMUS. My queen! my mistress! + O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause + To be suspected of more tenderness + Than doth become a man. I will remain + The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth; + My residence in Rome at one Philario's, + Who to my father was a friend, to me + Known but by letter; thither write, my queen, + And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, + Though ink be made of gall. + + Re-enter QUEEN + + QUEEN. Be brief, I pray you. + If the King come, I shall incur I know not + How much of his displeasure. [Aside] Yet I'll move him + To walk this way. I never do him wrong + But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; + Pays dear for my offences. Exit + POSTHUMUS. Should we be taking leave + As long a term as yet we have to live, + The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! + IMOGEN. Nay, stay a little. + Were you but riding forth to air yourself, + Such parting were too petty. Look here, love: + This diamond was my mother's; take it, heart; + But keep it till you woo another wife, + When Imogen is dead. + POSTHUMUS. How, how? Another? + You gentle gods, give me but this I have, + And sear up my embracements from a next + With bonds of death! Remain, remain thou here + [Puts on the ring] + While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, + As I my poor self did exchange for you, + To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles + I still win of you. For my sake wear this; + It is a manacle of love; I'll place it + Upon this fairest prisoner. [Puts a bracelet on her arm] + IMOGEN. O the gods! + When shall we see again? + + Enter CYMBELINE and LORDS + + POSTHUMUS. Alack, the King! + CYMBELINE. Thou basest thing, avoid; hence from my sight + If after this command thou fraught the court + With thy unworthiness, thou diest. Away! + Thou'rt poison to my blood. + POSTHUMUS. The gods protect you, + And bless the good remainders of the court! + I am gone. Exit + IMOGEN. There cannot be a pinch in death + More sharp than this is. + CYMBELINE. O disloyal thing, + That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st + A year's age on me! + IMOGEN. I beseech you, sir, + Harm not yourself with your vexation. + I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare + Subdues all pangs, all fears. + CYMBELINE. Past grace? obedience? + IMOGEN. Past hope, and in despair; that way past grace. + CYMBELINE. That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! + IMOGEN. O blessed that I might not! I chose an eagle, + And did avoid a puttock. + CYMBELINE. Thou took'st a beggar, wouldst have made my throne + A seat for baseness. + IMOGEN. No; I rather added + A lustre to it. + CYMBELINE. O thou vile one! + IMOGEN. Sir, + It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus. + You bred him as my playfellow, and he is + A man worth any woman; overbuys me + Almost the sum he pays. + CYMBELINE. What, art thou mad? + IMOGEN. Almost, sir. Heaven restore me! Would I were + A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus + Our neighbour shepherd's son! + + Re-enter QUEEN + + CYMBELINE. Thou foolish thing! + [To the QUEEN] They were again together. You have done + Not after our command. Away with her, + And pen her up. + QUEEN. Beseech your patience.- Peace, + Dear lady daughter, peace!- Sweet sovereign, + Leave us to ourselves, and make yourself some comfort + Out of your best advice. + CYMBELINE. Nay, let her languish + A drop of blood a day and, being aged, + Die of this folly. Exit, with LORDS + + Enter PISANIO + + QUEEN. Fie! you must give way. + Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news? + PISANIO. My lord your son drew on my master. + QUEEN. Ha! + No harm, I trust, is done? + PISANIO. There might have been, + But that my master rather play'd than fought, + And had no help of anger; they were parted + By gentlemen at hand. + QUEEN. I am very glad on't. + IMOGEN. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part + To draw upon an exile! O brave sir! + I would they were in Afric both together; + Myself by with a needle, that I might prick + The goer-back. Why came you from your master? + PISANIO. On his command. He would not suffer me + To bring him to the haven; left these notes + Of what commands I should be subject to, + When't pleas'd you to employ me. + QUEEN. This hath been + Your faithful servant. I dare lay mine honour + He will remain so. + PISANIO. I humbly thank your Highness. + QUEEN. Pray walk awhile. + IMOGEN. About some half-hour hence, + Pray you speak with me. You shall at least + Go see my lord aboard. For this time leave me. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Britain. A public place + +Enter CLOTEN and two LORDS + + FIRST LORD. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence + of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice. Where air comes out, + air comes in; there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. + CLOTEN. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him? + SECOND LORD. [Aside] No, faith; not so much as his patience. + FIRST LORD. Hurt him! His body's a passable carcass if he be not + hurt. It is a throughfare for steel if it be not hurt. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' th' back + side the town. + CLOTEN. The villain would not stand me. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your + face. + FIRST LORD. Stand you? You have land enough of your own; but he + added to your having, gave you some ground. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] As many inches as you have oceans. + Puppies! + CLOTEN. I would they had not come between us. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] So would I, till you had measur'd how long a + fool you were upon the ground. + CLOTEN. And that she should love this fellow, and refuse me! + SECOND LORD. [Aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is + damn'd. + FIRST LORD. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go + not together; she's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection + of her wit. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection + should hurt her. + CLOTEN. Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt + done! + SECOND LORD. [Aside] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of + an ass, which is no great hurt. + CLOTEN. You'll go with us? + FIRST LORD. I'll attend your lordship. + CLOTEN. Nay, come, let's go together. + SECOND LORD. Well, my lord. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Britain. CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO + + IMOGEN. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' th' haven, + And questioned'st every sail; if he should write, + And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost, + As offer'd mercy is. What was the last + That he spake to thee? + PISANIO. It was: his queen, his queen! + IMOGEN. Then wav'd his handkerchief? + PISANIO. And kiss'd it, madam. + IMOGEN. Senseless linen, happier therein than I! + And that was all? + PISANIO. No, madam; for so long + As he could make me with his eye, or care + Distinguish him from others, he did keep + The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, + Still waving, as the fits and stirs of's mind + Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, + How swift his ship. + IMOGEN. Thou shouldst have made him + As little as a crow, or less, ere left + To after-eye him. + PISANIO. Madam, so I did. + IMOGEN. I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack'd them but + To look upon him, till the diminution + Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; + Nay, followed him till he had melted from + The smallness of a gnat to air, and then + Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, + When shall we hear from him? + PISANIO. Be assur'd, madam, + With his next vantage. + IMOGEN. I did not take my leave of him, but had + Most pretty things to say. Ere I could tell him + How I would think on him at certain hours + Such thoughts and such; or I could make him swear + The shes of Italy should not betray + Mine interest and his honour; or have charg'd him, + At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, + T' encounter me with orisons, for then + I am in heaven for him; or ere I could + Give him that parting kiss which I had set + Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, + And like the tyrannous breathing of the north + Shakes all our buds from growing. + + Enter a LADY + + LADY. The Queen, madam, + Desires your Highness' company. + IMOGEN. Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd. + I will attend the Queen. + PISANIO. Madam, I shall. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Rome. PHILARIO'S house + +Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a FRENCHMAN, a DUTCHMAN, and a SPANIARD + + IACHIMO. Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain. He was then + of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath + been allowed the name of. But I could then have look'd on him + without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his + endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by + items. + PHILARIO. You speak of him when he was less furnish'd than now he + is with that which makes him both without and within. + FRENCHMAN. I have seen him in France; we had very many there could + behold the sun with as firm eyes as he. + IACHIMO. This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein he + must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I + doubt not, a great deal from the matter. + FRENCHMAN. And then his banishment. + IACHIMO. Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable + divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him, be it + but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay + flat, for taking a beggar, without less quality. But how comes it + he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance? + PHILARIO. His father and I were soldiers together, to whom I have + been often bound for no less than my life. + + Enter POSTHUMUS + + Here comes the Briton. Let him be so entertained amongst you as + suits with gentlemen of your knowing to a stranger of his + quality. I beseech you all be better known to this gentleman, + whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine. How worthy he is + I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his + own hearing. + FRENCHMAN. Sir, we have known together in Orleans. + POSTHUMUS. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, + which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still. + FRENCHMAN. Sir, you o'errate my poor kindness. I was glad I did + atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have + been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, + upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature. + POSTHUMUS. By your pardon, sir. I was then a young traveller; + rather shunn'd to go even with what I heard than in my every + action to be guided by others' experiences; but upon my mended + judgment- if I offend not to say it is mended- my quarrel was not + altogether slight. + FRENCHMAN. Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and + by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the + other or have fall'n both. + IACHIMO. Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference? + FRENCHMAN. Safely, I think. 'Twas a contention in public, which + may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like + an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in + praise of our country mistresses; this gentleman at that time + vouching- and upon warrant of bloody affirmation- his to be more + fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less + attemptable, than any the rarest of our ladies in France. + IACHIMO. That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's opinion, + by this, worn out. + POSTHUMUS. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. + IACHIMO. You must not so far prefer her fore ours of Italy. + POSTHUMUS. Being so far provok'd as I was in France, I would abate + her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend. + IACHIMO. As fair and as good- a kind of hand-in-hand comparison- + had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. + If she went before others I have seen as that diamond of yours + outlustres many I have beheld, I could not but believe she + excelled many; but I have not seen the most precious diamond that + is, nor you the lady. + POSTHUMUS. I prais'd her as I rated her. So do I my stone. + IACHIMO. What do you esteem it at? + POSTHUMUS. More than the world enjoys. + IACHIMO. Either your unparagon'd mistress is dead, or she's + outpriz'd by a trifle. + POSTHUMUS. You are mistaken: the one may be sold or given, if there + were wealth enough for the purchase or merit for the gift; the + other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods. + IACHIMO. Which the gods have given you? + POSTHUMUS. Which by their graces I will keep. + IACHIMO. You may wear her in title yours; but you know strange fowl + light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stol'n too. So + your brace of unprizable estimations, the one is but frail and + the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that-way-accomplish'd + courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last. + POSTHUMUS. Your Italy contains none so accomplish'd a courtier to + convince the honour of my mistress, if in the holding or loss of + that you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of + thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring. + PHILARIO. Let us leave here, gentlemen. + POSTHUMUS. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank + him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first. + IACHIMO. With five times so much conversation I should get ground + of your fair mistress; make her go back even to the yielding, had + I admittance and opportunity to friend. + POSTHUMUS. No, no. + IACHIMO. I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your + ring, which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it something. But I make + my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation; and, + to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any + lady in the world. + POSTHUMUS. You are a great deal abus'd in too bold a persuasion, + and I doubt not you sustain what y'are worthy of by your attempt. + IACHIMO. What's that? + POSTHUMUS. A repulse; though your attempt, as you call it, deserve + more- a punishment too. + PHILARIO. Gentlemen, enough of this. It came in too suddenly; let + it die as it was born, and I pray you be better acquainted. + IACHIMO. Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on th' + approbation of what I have spoke! + POSTHUMUS. What lady would you choose to assail? + IACHIMO. Yours, whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will + lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring that, commend me to the + court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the + opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence + that honour of hers which you imagine so reserv'd. + POSTHUMUS. I will wage against your gold, gold to it. My ring I + hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it. + IACHIMO. You are a friend, and therein the wiser. If you buy + ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from + tainting. But I see you have some religion in you, that you fear. + POSTHUMUS. This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver + purpose, I hope. + IACHIMO. I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what's + spoken, I swear. + POSTHUMUS. Will you? I Shall but lend my diamond till your return. + Let there be covenants drawn between's. My mistress exceeds in + goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking. I dare you to + this match: here's my ring. + PHILARIO. I will have it no lay. + IACHIMO. By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient + testimony that I have enjoy'd the dearest bodily part of your + mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond + too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have + trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours- + provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment. + POSTHUMUS. I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt + us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon + her, and give me directly to understand you have prevail'd, I am + no further your enemy- she is not worth our debate; if she remain + unseduc'd, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill + opinion and th' assault you have made to her chastity you shall + answer me with your sword. + IACHIMO. Your hand- a covenant! We will have these things set down + by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the + bargain should catch cold and starve. I will fetch my gold and + have our two wagers recorded. + POSTHUMUS. Agreed. Exeunt POSTHUMUS and IACHIMO + FRENCHMAN. Will this hold, think you? + PHILARIO. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray let us follow 'em. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Britain. CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter QUEEN, LADIES, and CORNELIUS + + QUEEN. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers; + Make haste; who has the note of them? + LADY. I, madam. + QUEEN. Dispatch. Exeunt LADIES + Now, Master Doctor, have you brought those drugs? + CORNELIUS. Pleaseth your Highness, ay. Here they are, madam. + [Presenting a box] + But I beseech your Grace, without offence- + My conscience bids me ask- wherefore you have + Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds + Which are the movers of a languishing death, + But, though slow, deadly? + QUEEN. I wonder, Doctor, + Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not been + Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how + To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so + That our great king himself doth woo me oft + For my confections? Having thus far proceeded- + Unless thou think'st me devilish- is't not meet + That I did amplify my judgment in + Other conclusions? I will try the forces + Of these thy compounds on such creatures as + We count not worth the hanging- but none human- + To try the vigour of them, and apply + Allayments to their act, and by them gather + Their several virtues and effects. + CORNELIUS. Your Highness + Shall from this practice but make hard your heart; + Besides, the seeing these effects will be + Both noisome and infectious. + QUEEN. O, content thee. + + Enter PISANIO + + [Aside] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him + Will I first work. He's for his master, + An enemy to my son.- How now, Pisanio! + Doctor, your service for this time is ended; + Take your own way. + CORNELIUS. [Aside] I do suspect you, madam; + But you shall do no harm. + QUEEN. [To PISANIO] Hark thee, a word. + CORNELIUS. [Aside] I do not like her. She doth think she has + Strange ling'ring poisons. I do know her spirit, + And will not trust one of her malice with + A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has + Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile, + Which first perchance she'll prove on cats and dogs, + Then afterward up higher; but there is + No danger in what show of death it makes, + More than the locking up the spirits a time, + To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd + With a most false effect; and I the truer + So to be false with her. + QUEEN. No further service, Doctor, + Until I send for thee. + CORNELIUS. I humbly take my leave. Exit + QUEEN. Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time + She will not quench, and let instructions enter + Where folly now possesses? Do thou work. + When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son, + I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then + As great as is thy master; greater, for + His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name + Is at last gasp. Return he cannot, nor + Continue where he is. To shift his being + Is to exchange one misery with another, + And every day that comes comes comes to + A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect + To be depender on a thing that leans, + Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends + So much as but to prop him? + [The QUEEN drops the box. PISANIO takes it up] + Thou tak'st up + Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour. + It is a thing I made, which hath the King + Five times redeem'd from death. I do not know + What is more cordial. Nay, I prithee take it; + It is an earnest of a further good + That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how + The case stands with her; do't as from thyself. + Think what a chance thou changest on; but think + Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son, + Who shall take notice of thee. I'll move the King + To any shape of thy preferment, such + As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly, + That set thee on to this desert, am bound + To load thy merit richly. Call my women. + Think on my words. Exit PISANIO + A sly and constant knave, + Not to be shak'd; the agent for his master, + And the remembrancer of her to hold + The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that + Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her + Of leigers for her sweet; and which she after, + Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd + To taste of too. + + Re-enter PISANIO and LADIES + + So, so. Well done, well done. + The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, + Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio; + Think on my words. Exeunt QUEEN and LADIES + PISANIO. And shall do. + But when to my good lord I prove untrue + I'll choke myself- there's all I'll do for you. Exit + + + + +SCENE VI. +Britain. The palace + +Enter IMOGEN alone + + IMOGEN. A father cruel and a step-dame false; + A foolish suitor to a wedded lady + That hath her husband banish'd. O, that husband! + My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated + Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n, + As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable + Is the desire that's glorious. Blessed be those, + How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, + Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! + + Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO + + PISANIO. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome + Comes from my lord with letters. + IACHIMO. Change you, madam? + The worthy Leonatus is in safety, + And greets your Highness dearly. [Presents a letter] + IMOGEN. Thanks, good sir. + You're kindly welcome. + IACHIMO. [Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich! + If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, + She is alone th' Arabian bird, and I + Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! + Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! + Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; + Rather, directly fly. + IMOGEN. [Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose + kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him + accordingly, as you value your trust. LEONATUS.' + + So far I read aloud; + But even the very middle of my heart + Is warm'd by th' rest and takes it thankfully. + You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I + Have words to bid you; and shall find it so + In all that I can do. + IACHIMO. Thanks, fairest lady. + What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes + To see this vaulted arch and the rich crop + Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt + The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones + Upon the number'd beach, and can we not + Partition make with spectacles so precious + 'Twixt fair and foul? + IMOGEN. What makes your admiration? + IACHIMO. It cannot be i' th' eye, for apes and monkeys, + 'Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way and + Contemn with mows the other; nor i' th' judgment, + For idiots in this case of favour would + Be wisely definite; nor i' th' appetite; + Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd, + Should make desire vomit emptiness, + Not so allur'd to feed. + IMOGEN. What is the matter, trow? + IACHIMO. The cloyed will- + That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub + Both fill'd and running- ravening first the lamb, + Longs after for the garbage. + IMOGEN. What, dear sir, + Thus raps you? Are you well? + IACHIMO. Thanks, madam; well.- Beseech you, sir, + Desire my man's abode where I did leave him. + He's strange and peevish. + PISANIO. I was going, sir, + To give him welcome. Exit + IMOGEN. Continues well my lord? His health beseech you? + IACHIMO. Well, madam. + IMOGEN. Is he dispos'd to mirth? I hope he is. + IACHIMO. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there + So merry and so gamesome. He is call'd + The Britain reveller. + IMOGEN. When he was here + He did incline to sadness, and oft-times + Not knowing why. + IACHIMO. I never saw him sad. + There is a Frenchman his companion, one + An eminent monsieur that, it seems, much loves + A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces + The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton- + Your lord, I mean- laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O, + Can my sides hold, to think that man- who knows + By history, report, or his own proof, + What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose + But must be- will's free hours languish for + Assured bondage?' + IMOGEN. Will my lord say so? + IACHIMO. Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter. + It is a recreation to be by + And hear him mock the Frenchman. But heavens know + Some men are much to blame. + IMOGEN. Not he, I hope. + IACHIMO. Not he; but yet heaven's bounty towards him might + Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much; + In you, which I account his, beyond all talents. + Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound + To pity too. + IMOGEN. What do you pity, sir? + IACHIMO. Two creatures heartily. + IMOGEN. Am I one, sir? + You look on me: what wreck discern you in me + Deserves your pity? + IACHIMO. Lamentable! What, + To hide me from the radiant sun and solace + I' th' dungeon by a snuff? + IMOGEN. I pray you, sir, + Deliver with more openness your answers + To my demands. Why do you pity me? + IACHIMO. That others do, + I was about to say, enjoy your- But + It is an office of the gods to venge it, + Not mine to speak on't. + IMOGEN. You do seem to know + Something of me, or what concerns me; pray you- + Since doubting things go ill often hurts more + Than to be sure they do; for certainties + Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, + The remedy then born- discover to me + What both you spur and stop. + IACHIMO. Had I this cheek + To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, + Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul + To th' oath of loyalty; this object, which + Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, + Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then, + Slaver with lips as common as the stairs + That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands + Made hard with hourly falsehood- falsehood as + With labour; then by-peeping in an eye + Base and illustrious as the smoky light + That's fed with stinking tallow- it were fit + That all the plagues of hell should at one time + Encounter such revolt. + IMOGEN. My lord, I fear, + Has forgot Britain. + IACHIMO. And himself. Not I + Inclin'd to this intelligence pronounce + The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces + That from my mutest conscience to my tongue + Charms this report out. + IMOGEN. Let me hear no more. + IACHIMO. O dearest soul, your cause doth strike my heart + With pity that doth make me sick! A lady + So fair, and fasten'd to an empery, + Would make the great'st king double, to be partner'd + With tomboys hir'd with that self exhibition + Which your own coffers yield! with diseas'd ventures + That play with all infirmities for gold + Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff + As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd; + Or she that bore you was no queen, and you + Recoil from your great stock. + IMOGEN. Reveng'd? + How should I be reveng'd? If this be true- + As I have such a heart that both mine ears + Must not in haste abuse- if it be true, + How should I be reveng'd? + IACHIMO. Should he make me + Live like Diana's priest betwixt cold sheets, + Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, + In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. + I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, + More noble than that runagate to your bed, + And will continue fast to your affection, + Still close as sure. + IMOGEN. What ho, Pisanio! + IACHIMO. Let me my service tender on your lips. + IMOGEN. Away! I do condemn mine ears that have + So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable, + Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not + For such an end thou seek'st, as base as strange. + Thou wrong'st a gentleman who is as far + From thy report as thou from honour; and + Solicits here a lady that disdains + Thee and the devil alike.- What ho, Pisanio!- + The King my father shall be made acquainted + Of thy assault. If he shall think it fit + A saucy stranger in his court to mart + As in a Romish stew, and to expound + His beastly mind to us, he hath a court + He little cares for, and a daughter who + He not respects at all.- What ho, Pisanio! + IACHIMO. O happy Leonatus! I may say + The credit that thy lady hath of thee + Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness + Her assur'd credit. Blessed live you long, + A lady to the worthiest sir that ever + Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only + For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon. + I have spoke this to know if your affiance + Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord + That which he is new o'er; and he is one + The truest manner'd, such a holy witch + That he enchants societies into him, + Half all men's hearts are his. + IMOGEN. You make amends. + IACHIMO. He sits 'mongst men like a descended god: + He hath a kind of honour sets him of + More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, + Most mighty Princess, that I have adventur'd + To try your taking of a false report, which hath + Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment + In the election of a sir so rare, + Which you know cannot err. The love I bear him + Made me to fan you thus; but the gods made you, + Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray your pardon. + IMOGEN. All's well, sir; take my pow'r i' th' court for yours. + IACHIMO. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot + T' entreat your Grace but in a small request, + And yet of moment too, for it concerns + Your lord; myself and other noble friends + Are partners in the business. + IMOGEN. Pray what is't? + IACHIMO. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord- + The best feather of our wing- have mingled sums + To buy a present for the Emperor; + Which I, the factor for the rest, have done + In France. 'Tis plate of rare device, and jewels + Of rich and exquisite form, their values great; + And I am something curious, being strange, + To have them in safe stowage. May it please you + To take them in protection? + IMOGEN. Willingly; + And pawn mine honour for their safety. Since + My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them + In my bedchamber. + IACHIMO. They are in a trunk, + Attended by my men. I will make bold + To send them to you only for this night; + I must aboard to-morrow. + IMOGEN. O, no, no. + IACHIMO. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word + By length'ning my return. From Gallia + I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise + To see your Grace. + IMOGEN. I thank you for your pains. + But not away to-morrow! + IACHIMO. O, I must, madam. + Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please + To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night. + I have outstood my time, which is material + 'To th' tender of our present. + IMOGEN. I will write. + Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept + And truly yielded you. You're very welcome. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +Britain. Before CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter CLOTEN and the two LORDS + + CLOTEN. Was there ever man had such luck! When I kiss'd the jack, + upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't; and + then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing, as if I + borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my + pleasure. + FIRST LORD. What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your + bowl. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] If his wit had been like him that broke it, it + would have run all out. + CLOTEN. When a gentleman is dispos'd to swear, it is not for any + standers-by to curtail his oaths. Ha? + SECOND LORD. No, my lord; [Aside] nor crop the ears of them. + CLOTEN. Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been + one of my rank! + SECOND LORD. [Aside] To have smell'd like a fool. + CLOTEN. I am not vex'd more at anything in th' earth. A pox on't! I + had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, + because of the Queen my mother. Every jackslave hath his bellyful + of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody + can match. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] You are cock and capon too; and you crow, + cock, with your comb on. + CLOTEN. Sayest thou? + SECOND LORD. It is not fit your lordship should undertake every + companion that you give offence to. + CLOTEN. No, I know that; but it is fit I should commit offence to + my inferiors. + SECOND LORD. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. + CLOTEN. Why, so I say. + FIRST LORD. Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court + to-night? + CLOTEN. A stranger, and I not known on't? + SECOND LORD. [Aside] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it + not. + FIRST LORD. There's an Italian come, and, 'tis thought, one of + Leonatus' friends. + CLOTEN. Leonatus? A banish'd rascal; and he's another, whatsoever + he be. Who told you of this stranger? + FIRST LORD. One of your lordship's pages. + CLOTEN. Is it fit I went to look upon him? Is there no derogation + in't? + SECOND LORD. You cannot derogate, my lord. + CLOTEN. Not easily, I think. + SECOND LORD. [Aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your issues, + being foolish, do not derogate. + CLOTEN. Come, I'll go see this Italian. What I have lost to-day at + bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go. + SECOND LORD. I'll attend your lordship. + Exeunt CLOTEN and FIRST LORD + That such a crafty devil as is his mother + Should yield the world this ass! A woman that + Bears all down with her brain; and this her son + Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, + And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, + Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st, + Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd, + A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer + More hateful than the foul expulsion is + Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act + Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm + The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshak'd + That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand + T' enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land! Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Britain. IMOGEN'S bedchamber in CYMBELINE'S palace; a trunk in one corner + +Enter IMOGEN in her bed, and a LADY attending + + IMOGEN. Who's there? My woman? Helen? + LADY. Please you, madam. + IMOGEN. What hour is it? + LADY. Almost midnight, madam. + IMOGEN. I have read three hours then. Mine eyes are weak; + Fold down the leaf where I have left. To bed. + Take not away the taper, leave it burning; + And if thou canst awake by four o' th' clock, + I prithee call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. Exit LADY + To your protection I commend me, gods. + From fairies and the tempters of the night + Guard me, beseech ye! + [Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk] + IACHIMO. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense + Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus + Did softly press the rushes ere he waken'd + The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, + How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily, + And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! + But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, + How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that + Perfumes the chamber thus. The flame o' th' taper + Bows toward her and would under-peep her lids + To see th' enclosed lights, now canopied + Under these windows white and azure, lac'd + With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design + To note the chamber. I will write all down: + Such and such pictures; there the window; such + Th' adornment of her bed; the arras, figures- + Why, such and such; and the contents o' th' story. + Ah, but some natural notes about her body + Above ten thousand meaner movables + Would testify, t' enrich mine inventory. + O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! + And be her sense but as a monument, + Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off; + [Taking off her bracelet] + As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! + 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, + As strongly as the conscience does within, + To th' madding of her lord. On her left breast + A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops + I' th' bottom of a cowslip. Here's a voucher + Stronger than ever law could make; this secret + Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en + The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? + Why should I write this down that's riveted, + Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late + The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down + Where Philomel gave up. I have enough. + To th' trunk again, and shut the spring of it. + Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning + May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; + Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes] + One, two, three. Time, time! Exit into the trunk + + + + +SCENE III. +CYMBELINE'S palace. An ante-chamber adjoining IMOGEN'S apartments + +Enter CLOTEN and LORDS + + FIRST LORD. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most + coldest that ever turn'd up ace. + CLOTEN. It would make any man cold to lose. + FIRST LORD. But not every man patient after the noble temper of + your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win. + CLOTEN. Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this + foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. It's almost morning, + is't not? + FIRST LORD. Day, my lord. + CLOTEN. I would this music would come. I am advised to give her + music a mornings; they say it will penetrate. + + Enter musicians + + Come on, tune. If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so. + We'll try with tongue too. If none will do, let her remain; but + I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited + thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to + it- and then let her consider. + + SONG + + Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, + And Phoebus 'gins arise, + His steeds to water at those springs + On chalic'd flow'rs that lies; + And winking Mary-buds begin + To ope their golden eyes. + With everything that pretty bin, + My lady sweet, arise; + Arise, arise! + + So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your music + the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears which + horsehairs and calves' guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to + boot, can never amend. Exeunt musicians + + Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN + + SECOND LORD. Here comes the King. + CLOTEN. I am glad I was up so late, for that's the reason I was up + so early. He cannot choose but take this service I have done + fatherly.- Good morrow to your Majesty and to my gracious mother. + CYMBELINE. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? + Will she not forth? + CLOTEN. I have assail'd her with musics, but she vouchsafes no + notice. + CYMBELINE. The exile of her minion is too new; + She hath not yet forgot him; some more time + Must wear the print of his remembrance out, + And then she's yours. + QUEEN. You are most bound to th' King, + Who lets go by no vantages that may + Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself + To orderly soliciting, and be friended + With aptness of the season; make denials + Increase your services; so seem as if + You were inspir'd to do those duties which + You tender to her; that you in all obey her, + Save when command to your dismission tends, + And therein you are senseless. + CLOTEN. Senseless? Not so. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; + The one is Caius Lucius. + CYMBELINE. A worthy fellow, + Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; + But that's no fault of his. We must receive him + According to the honour of his sender; + And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, + We must extend our notice. Our dear son, + When you have given good morning to your mistress, + Attend the Queen and us; we shall have need + T' employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen. + Exeunt all but CLOTEN + CLOTEN. If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, + Let her lie still and dream. By your leave, ho! [Knocks] + I know her women are about her; what + If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold + Which buys admittance; oft it doth-yea, and makes + Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up + Their deer to th' stand o' th' stealer; and 'tis gold + Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief; + Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man. What + Can it not do and undo? I will make + One of her women lawyer to me, for + I yet not understand the case myself. + By your leave. [Knocks] + + Enter a LADY + + LADY. Who's there that knocks? + CLOTEN. A gentleman. + LADY. No more? + CLOTEN. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. + LADY. That's more + Than some whose tailors are as dear as yours + Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure? + CLOTEN. Your lady's person; is she ready? + LADY. Ay, + To keep her chamber. + CLOTEN. There is gold for you; sell me your good report. + LADY. How? My good name? or to report of you + What I shall think is good? The Princess! + + Enter IMOGEN + + CLOTEN. Good morrow, fairest sister. Your sweet hand. + Exit LADY + IMOGEN. Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains + For purchasing but trouble. The thanks I give + Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, + And scarce can spare them. + CLOTEN. Still I swear I love you. + IMOGEN. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me. + If you swear still, your recompense is still + That I regard it not. + CLOTEN. This is no answer. + IMOGEN. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent, + I would not speak. I pray you spare me. Faith, + I shall unfold equal discourtesy + To your best kindness; one of your great knowing + Should learn, being taught, forbearance. + CLOTEN. To leave you in your madness 'twere my sin; + I will not. + IMOGEN. Fools are not mad folks. + CLOTEN. Do you call me fool? + IMOGEN. As I am mad, I do; + If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; + That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, + You put me to forget a lady's manners + By being so verbal; and learn now, for all, + That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, + By th' very truth of it, I care not for you, + And am so near the lack of charity + To accuse myself I hate you; which I had rather + You felt than make't my boast. + CLOTEN. You sin against + Obedience, which you owe your father. For + The contract you pretend with that base wretch, + One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes, + With scraps o' th' court- it is no contract, none. + And though it be allowed in meaner parties- + Yet who than he more mean?- to knit their souls- + On whom there is no more dependency + But brats and beggary- in self-figur'd knot, + Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by + The consequence o' th' crown, and must not foil + The precious note of it with a base slave, + A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, + A pantler- not so eminent! + IMOGEN. Profane fellow! + Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more + But what thou art besides, thou wert too base + To be his groom. Thou wert dignified enough, + Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made + Comparative for your virtues to be styl'd + The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated + For being preferr'd so well. + CLOTEN. The south fog rot him! + IMOGEN. He never can meet more mischance than come + To be but nam'd of thee. His mean'st garment + That ever hath but clipp'd his body is dearer + In my respect than all the hairs above thee, + Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio! + + Enter PISANIO + + CLOTEN. 'His garments'! Now the devil- + IMOGEN. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently. + CLOTEN. 'His garment'! + IMOGEN. I am sprited with a fool; + Frighted, and ang'red worse. Go bid my woman + Search for a jewel that too casually + Hath left mine arm. It was thy master's; shrew me, + If I would lose it for a revenue + Of any king's in Europe! I do think + I saw't this morning; confident I am + Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it. + I hope it be not gone to tell my lord + That I kiss aught but he. + PISANIO. 'Twill not be lost. + IMOGEN. I hope so. Go and search. Exit PISANIO + CLOTEN. You have abus'd me. + 'His meanest garment'! + IMOGEN. Ay, I said so, sir. + If you will make 't an action, call witness to 't. + CLOTEN. I will inform your father. + IMOGEN. Your mother too. + She's my good lady and will conceive, I hope, + But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, + To th' worst of discontent. Exit + CLOTEN. I'll be reveng'd. + 'His mean'st garment'! Well. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +Rome. PHILARIO'S house + +Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO + + POSTHUMUS. Fear it not, sir; I would I were so sure + To win the King as I am bold her honour + Will remain hers. + PHILARIO. What means do you make to him? + POSTHUMUS. Not any; but abide the change of time, + Quake in the present winter's state, and wish + That warmer days would come. In these fear'd hopes + I barely gratify your love; they failing, + I must die much your debtor. + PHILARIO. Your very goodness and your company + O'erpays all I can do. By this your king + Hath heard of great Augustus. Caius Lucius + Will do's commission throughly; and I think + He'll grant the tribute, send th' arrearages, + Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance + Is yet fresh in their grief. + POSTHUMUS. I do believe + Statist though I am none, nor like to be, + That this will prove a war; and you shall hear + The legions now in Gallia sooner landed + In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings + Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen + Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar + Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage + Worthy his frowning at. Their discipline, + Now mingled with their courages, will make known + To their approvers they are people such + That mend upon the world. + + Enter IACHIMO + + PHILARIO. See! Iachimo! + POSTHUMUS. The swiftest harts have posted you by land, + And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails, + To make your vessel nimble. + PHILARIO. Welcome, sir. + POSTHUMUS. I hope the briefness of your answer made + The speediness of your return. + IACHIMO. Your lady + Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon. + POSTHUMUS. And therewithal the best; or let her beauty + Look through a casement to allure false hearts, + And be false with them. + IACHIMO. Here are letters for you. + POSTHUMUS. Their tenour good, I trust. + IACHIMO. 'Tis very like. + PHILARIO. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court + When you were there? + IACHIMO. He was expected then, + But not approach'd. + POSTHUMUS. All is well yet. + Sparkles this stone as it was wont, or is't not + Too dull for your good wearing? + IACHIMO. If I have lost it, + I should have lost the worth of it in gold. + I'll make a journey twice as far t' enjoy + A second night of such sweet shortness which + Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won. + POSTHUMUS. The stone's too hard to come by. + IACHIMO. Not a whit, + Your lady being so easy. + POSTHUMUS. Make not, sir, + Your loss your sport. I hope you know that we + Must not continue friends. + IACHIMO. Good sir, we must, + If you keep covenant. Had I not brought + The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant + We were to question farther; but I now + Profess myself the winner of her honour, + Together with your ring; and not the wronger + Of her or you, having proceeded but + By both your wills. + POSTHUMUS. If you can make't apparent + That you have tasted her in bed, my hand + And ring is yours. If not, the foul opinion + You had of her pure honour gains or loses + Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both + To who shall find them. + IACHIMO. Sir, my circumstances, + Being so near the truth as I will make them, + Must first induce you to believe- whose strength + I will confirm with oath; which I doubt not + You'll give me leave to spare when you shall find + You need it not. + POSTHUMUS. Proceed. + IACHIMO. First, her bedchamber, + Where I confess I slept not, but profess + Had that was well worth watching-it was hang'd + With tapestry of silk and silver; the story, + Proud Cleopatra when she met her Roman + And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for + The press of boats or pride. A piece of work + So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive + In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd + Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, + Since the true life on't was- + POSTHUMUS. This is true; + And this you might have heard of here, by me + Or by some other. + IACHIMO. More particulars + Must justify my knowledge. + POSTHUMUS. So they must, + Or do your honour injury. + IACHIMO. The chimney + Is south the chamber, and the chimneypiece + Chaste Dian bathing. Never saw I figures + So likely to report themselves. The cutter + Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her, + Motion and breath left out. + POSTHUMUS. This is a thing + Which you might from relation likewise reap, + Being, as it is, much spoke of. + IACHIMO. The roof o' th' chamber + With golden cherubins is fretted; her andirons- + I had forgot them- were two winking Cupids + Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely + Depending on their brands. + POSTHUMUS. This is her honour! + Let it be granted you have seen all this, and praise + Be given to your remembrance; the description + Of what is in her chamber nothing saves + The wager you have laid. + IACHIMO. Then, if you can, [Shows the bracelet] + Be pale. I beg but leave to air this jewel. See! + And now 'tis up again. It must be married + To that your diamond; I'll keep them. + POSTHUMUS. Jove! + Once more let me behold it. Is it that + Which I left with her? + IACHIMO. Sir- I thank her- that. + She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet; + Her pretty action did outsell her gift, + And yet enrich'd it too. She gave it me, and said + She priz'd it once. + POSTHUMUS. May be she pluck'd it of + To send it me. + IACHIMO. She writes so to you, doth she? + POSTHUMUS. O, no, no, no! 'tis true. Here, take this too; + [Gives the ring] + It is a basilisk unto mine eye, + Kills me to look on't. Let there be no honour + Where there is beauty; truth where semblance; love + Where there's another man. The vows of women + Of no more bondage be to where they are made + Than they are to their virtues, which is nothing. + O, above measure false! + PHILARIO. Have patience, sir, + And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won. + It may be probable she lost it, or + Who knows if one her women, being corrupted + Hath stol'n it from her? + POSTHUMUS. Very true; + And so I hope he came by't. Back my ring. + Render to me some corporal sign about her, + More evident than this; for this was stol'n. + IACHIMO. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm! + POSTHUMUS. Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears. + 'Tis true- nay, keep the ring, 'tis true. I am sure + She would not lose it. Her attendants are + All sworn and honourable- they induc'd to steal it! + And by a stranger! No, he hath enjoy'd her. + The cognizance of her incontinency + Is this: she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly. + There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell + Divide themselves between you! + PHILARIO. Sir, be patient; + This is not strong enough to be believ'd + Of one persuaded well of. + POSTHUMUS. Never talk on't; + She hath been colted by him. + IACHIMO. If you seek + For further satisfying, under her breast- + Worthy the pressing- lies a mole, right proud + Of that most delicate lodging. By my life, + I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger + To feed again, though full. You do remember + This stain upon her? + POSTHUMUS. Ay, and it doth confirm + Another stain, as big as hell can hold, + Were there no more but it. + IACHIMO. Will you hear more? + POSTHUMUS. Spare your arithmetic; never count the turns. + Once, and a million! + IACHIMO. I'll be sworn- + POSTHUMUS. No swearing. + If you will swear you have not done't, you lie; + And I will kill thee if thou dost deny + Thou'st made me cuckold. + IACHIMO. I'll deny nothing. + POSTHUMUS. O that I had her here to tear her limb-meal! + I will go there and do't, i' th' court, before + Her father. I'll do something- Exit + PHILARIO. Quite besides + The government of patience! You have won. + Let's follow him and pervert the present wrath + He hath against himself. + IACHIMO. With all my heart. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Rome. Another room in PHILARIO'S house + +Enter POSTHUMUS + + POSTHUMUS. Is there no way for men to be, but women + Must be half-workers? We are all bastards, + And that most venerable man which I + Did call my father was I know not where + When I was stamp'd. Some coiner with his tools + Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seem'd + The Dian of that time. So doth my wife + The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance! + Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd, + And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with + A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on't + Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her + As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils! + This yellow Iachimo in an hour- was't not? + Or less!- at first? Perchance he spoke not, but, + Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one, + Cried 'O!' and mounted; found no opposition + But what he look'd for should oppose and she + Should from encounter guard. Could I find out + The woman's part in me! For there's no motion + That tends to vice in man but I affirm + It is the woman's part. Be it lying, note it, + The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; + Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; + Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, + Nice longing, slanders, mutability, + All faults that man may name, nay, that hell knows, + Why, hers, in part or all; but rather all; + For even to vice + They are not constant, but are changing still + One vice but of a minute old for one + Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, + Detest them, curse them. Yet 'tis greater skill + In a true hate to pray they have their will: + The very devils cannot plague them better. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Britain. A hall in CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, and LORDS at one door, +and at another CAIUS LUCIUS and attendants + + CYMBELINE. Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us? + LUCIUS. When Julius Caesar- whose remembrance yet + Lives in men's eyes, and will to ears and tongues + Be theme and hearing ever- was in this Britain, + And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, + Famous in Caesar's praises no whit less + Than in his feats deserving it, for him + And his succession granted Rome a tribute, + Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately + Is left untender'd. + QUEEN. And, to kill the marvel, + Shall be so ever. + CLOTEN. There be many Caesars + Ere such another Julius. Britain is + A world by itself, and we will nothing pay + For wearing our own noses. + QUEEN. That opportunity, + Which then they had to take from 's, to resume + We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, + The kings your ancestors, together with + The natural bravery of your isle, which stands + As Neptune's park, ribb'd and pal'd in + With rocks unscalable and roaring waters, + With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats + But suck them up to th' top-mast. A kind of conquest + Caesar made here; but made not here his brag + Of 'came, and saw, and overcame.' With shame- + The first that ever touch'd him- he was carried + From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping- + Poor ignorant baubles!- on our terrible seas, + Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd + As easily 'gainst our rocks; for joy whereof + The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point- + O, giglot fortune!- to master Caesar's sword, + Made Lud's Town with rejoicing fires bright + And Britons strut with courage. + CLOTEN. Come, there's no more tribute to be paid. Our kingdom is + stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no + moe such Caesars. Other of them may have crook'd noses; but to + owe such straight arms, none. + CYMBELINE. Son, let your mother end. + CLOTEN. We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan. + I do not say I am one; but I have a hand. Why tribute? Why should + we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, + or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; + else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. + CYMBELINE. You must know, + Till the injurious Romans did extort + This tribute from us, we were free. Caesar's ambition- + Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch + The sides o' th' world- against all colour here + Did put the yoke upon's; which to shake of + Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon + Ourselves to be. + CLOTEN. We do. + CYMBELINE. Say then to Caesar, + Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which + Ordain'd our laws- whose use the sword of Caesar + Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise + Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, + Though Rome be therefore angry. Mulmutius made our laws, + Who was the first of Britain which did put + His brows within a golden crown, and call'd + Himself a king. + LUCIUS. I am sorry, Cymbeline, + That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar- + Caesar, that hath moe kings his servants than + Thyself domestic officers- thine enemy. + Receive it from me, then: war and confusion + In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee; look + For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, + I thank thee for myself. + CYMBELINE. Thou art welcome, Caius. + Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent + Much under him; of him I gather'd honour, + Which he to seek of me again, perforce, + Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect + That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for + Their liberties are now in arms, a precedent + Which not to read would show the Britons cold; + So Caesar shall not find them. + LUCIUS. Let proof speak. + CLOTEN. His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or + two, or longer. If you seek us afterwards in other terms, you + shall find us in our salt-water girdle. If you beat us out of it, + it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare + the better for you; and there's an end. + LUCIUS. So, sir. + CYMBELINE. I know your master's pleasure, and he mine; + All the remain is, welcome. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Britain. Another room in CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter PISANIO reading of a letter + + PISANIO. How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not + What monsters her accuse? Leonatus! + O master, what a strange infection + Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian- + As poisonous-tongu'd as handed- hath prevail'd + On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal? No. + She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes, + More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults + As would take in some virtue. O my master! + Thy mind to her is now as low as were + Thy fortunes. How? that I should murder her? + Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I + Have made to thy command? I, her? Her blood? + If it be so to do good service, never + Let me be counted serviceable. How look I + That I should seem to lack humanity + So much as this fact comes to? [Reads] 'Do't. The letter + That I have sent her, by her own command + Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper, + Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble, + Art thou a fedary for this act, and look'st + So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. + + Enter IMOGEN + + I am ignorant in what I am commanded. + IMOGEN. How now, Pisanio! + PISANIO. Madam, here is a letter from my lord. + IMOGEN. Who? thy lord? That is my lord- Leonatus? + O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer + That knew the stars as I his characters- + He'd lay the future open. You good gods, + Let what is here contain'd relish of love, + Of my lord's health, of his content; yet not + That we two are asunder- let that grieve him! + Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them, + For it doth physic love- of his content, + All but in that. Good wax, thy leave. Blest be + You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers + And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike; + Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet + You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods! + [Reads] + 'Justice and your father's wrath, should he take me in his + dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the dearest of + creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I + am in Cambria, at Milford Haven. What your own love will out of + this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness that + remains loyal to his vow, and your increasing in love + LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.' + + O for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio? + He is at Milford Haven. Read, and tell me + How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs + May plod it in a week, why may not I + Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio- + Who long'st like me to see thy lord, who long'st- + O, let me 'bate!- but not like me, yet long'st, + But in a fainter kind- O, not like me, + For mine's beyond beyond!-say, and speak thick- + Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing + To th' smothering of the sense- how far it is + To this same blessed Milford. And by th' way + Tell me how Wales was made so happy as + T' inherit such a haven. But first of all, + How we may steal from hence; and for the gap + That we shall make in time from our hence-going + And our return, to excuse. But first, how get hence. + Why should excuse be born or ere begot? + We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak, + How many score of miles may we well ride + 'Twixt hour and hour? + PISANIO. One score 'twixt sun and sun, + Madam, 's enough for you, and too much too. + IMOGEN. Why, one that rode to's execution, man, + Could never go so slow. I have heard of riding wagers + Where horses have been nimbler than the sands + That run i' th' clock's behalf. But this is fool'ry. + Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say + She'll home to her father; and provide me presently + A riding suit, no costlier than would fit + A franklin's huswife. + PISANIO. Madam, you're best consider. + IMOGEN. I see before me, man. Nor here, nor here, + Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them + That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee; + Do as I bid thee. There's no more to say; + Accessible is none but Milford way. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Wales. A mountainous country with a cave + +Enter from the cave BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS + + BELARIUS. A goodly day not to keep house with such + Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate + Instructs you how t' adore the heavens, and bows you + To a morning's holy office. The gates of monarchs + Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through + And keep their impious turbans on without + Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven! + We house i' th' rock, yet use thee not so hardly + As prouder livers do. + GUIDERIUS. Hail, heaven! + ARVIRAGUS. Hail, heaven! + BELARIUS. Now for our mountain sport. Up to yond hill, + Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider, + When you above perceive me like a crow, + That it is place which lessens and sets off; + And you may then revolve what tales I have told you + Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war. + This service is not service so being done, + But being so allow'd. To apprehend thus + Draws us a profit from all things we see, + And often to our comfort shall we find + The sharded beetle in a safer hold + Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life + Is nobler than attending for a check, + Richer than doing nothing for a bribe, + Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: + Such gain the cap of him that makes him fine, + Yet keeps his book uncross'd. No life to ours! + GUIDERIUS. Out of your proof you speak. We, poor unfledg'd, + Have never wing'd from view o' th' nest, nor know not + What air's from home. Haply this life is best, + If quiet life be best; sweeter to you + That have a sharper known; well corresponding + With your stiff age. But unto us it is + A cell of ignorance, travelling abed, + A prison for a debtor that not dares + To stride a limit. + ARVIRAGUS. What should we speak of + When we are old as you? When we shall hear + The rain and wind beat dark December, how, + In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse. + The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing; + We are beastly: subtle as the fox for prey, + Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat. + Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage + We make a choir, as doth the prison'd bird, + And sing our bondage freely. + BELARIUS. How you speak! + Did you but know the city's usuries, + And felt them knowingly- the art o' th' court, + As hard to leave as keep, whose top to climb + Is certain falling, or so slipp'ry that + The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' th' war, + A pain that only seems to seek out danger + I' th'name of fame and honour, which dies i' th'search, + And hath as oft a sland'rous epitaph + As record of fair act; nay, many times, + Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse- + Must curtsy at the censure. O, boys, this story + The world may read in me; my body's mark'd + With Roman swords, and my report was once + first with the best of note. Cymbeline lov'd me; + And when a soldier was the theme, my name + Was not far off. Then was I as a tree + Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night + A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, + Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, + And left me bare to weather. + GUIDERIUS. Uncertain favour! + BELARIUS. My fault being nothing- as I have told you oft- + But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd + Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline + I was confederate with the Romans. So + Follow'd my banishment, and this twenty years + This rock and these demesnes have been my world, + Where I have liv'd at honest freedom, paid + More pious debts to heaven than in all + The fore-end of my time. But up to th' mountains! + This is not hunters' language. He that strikes + The venison first shall be the lord o' th' feast; + To him the other two shall minister; + And we will fear no poison, which attends + In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. + Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS + How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! + These boys know little they are sons to th' King, + Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. + They think they are mine; and though train'd up thus meanly + I' th' cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit + The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them + In simple and low things to prince it much + Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, + The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who + The King his father call'd Guiderius- Jove! + When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell + The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out + Into my story; say 'Thus mine enemy fell, + And thus I set my foot on's neck'; even then + The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, + Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture + That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, + Once Arviragus, in as like a figure + Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more + His own conceiving. Hark, the game is rous'd! + O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows + Thou didst unjustly banish me! Whereon, + At three and two years old, I stole these babes, + Thinking to bar thee of succession as + Thou refts me of my lands. Euriphile, + Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, + And every day do honour to her grave. + Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd, + They take for natural father. The game is up. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +Wales, near Milford Haven + +Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN + + IMOGEN. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place + Was near at hand. Ne'er long'd my mother so + To see me first as I have now. Pisanio! Man! + Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind + That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh + From th' inward of thee? One but painted thus + Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd + Beyond self-explication. Put thyself + Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness + Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter? + Why tender'st thou that paper to me with + A look untender! If't be summer news, + Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st + But keep that count'nance still. My husband's hand? + That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, + And he's at some hard point. Speak, man; thy tongue + May take off some extremity, which to read + Would be even mortal to me. + PISANIO. Please you read, + And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing + The most disdain'd of fortune. + IMOGEN. [Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath play'd the strumpet in + my bed, the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not + out of weak surmises, but from proof as strong as my grief and as + certain as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must act + for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let + thine own hands take away her life; I shall give thee opportunity + at Milford Haven; she hath my letter for the purpose; where, if + thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art + the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal.' + PISANIO. What shall I need to draw my sword? The paper + Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander, + Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath + Rides on the posting winds and doth belie + All corners of the world. Kings, queens, and states, + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, + This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam? + IMOGEN. False to his bed? What is it to be false? + To lie in watch there, and to think on him? + To weep twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge nature, + To break it with a fearful dream of him, + And cry myself awake? That's false to's bed, + Is it? + PISANIO. Alas, good lady! + IMOGEN. I false! Thy conscience witness! Iachimo, + Thou didst accuse him of incontinency; + Thou then look'dst like a villain; now, methinks, + Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy, + Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him. + Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion, + And for I am richer than to hang by th' walls + I must be ripp'd. To pieces with me! O, + Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, + By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought + Put on for villainy; not born where't grows, + But worn a bait for ladies. + PISANIO. Good madam, hear me. + IMOGEN. True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas, + Were, in his time, thought false; and Sinon's weeping + Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity + From most true wretchedness. So thou, Posthumus, + Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men: + Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjur'd + From thy great fail. Come, fellow, be thou honest; + Do thou thy master's bidding; when thou seest him, + A little witness my obedience. Look! + I draw the sword myself; take it, and hit + The innocent mansion of my love, my heart. + Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief; + Thy master is not there, who was indeed + The riches of it. Do his bidding; strike. + Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause, + But now thou seem'st a coward. + PISANIO. Hence, vile instrument! + Thou shalt not damn my hand. + IMOGEN. Why, I must die; + And if I do not by thy hand, thou art + No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter + There is a prohibition so divine + That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart- + Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence!- + Obedient as the scabbard. What is here? + The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus + All turn'd to heresy? Away, away, + Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more + Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools + Believe false teachers; though those that are betray'd + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Posthumus, + That didst set up my disobedience 'gainst the King + My father, and make me put into contempt the suits + Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find + It is no act of common passage but + A strain of rareness; and I grieve myself + To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her + That now thou tirest on, how thy memory + Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee dispatch. + The lamp entreats the butcher. Where's thy knife? + Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding, + When I desire it too. + PISANIO. O gracious lady, + Since I receiv'd command to do this busines + I have not slept one wink. + IMOGEN. Do't, and to bed then. + PISANIO. I'll wake mine eyeballs first. + IMOGEN. Wherefore then + Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abus'd + So many miles with a pretence? This place? + Mine action and thine own? our horses' labour? + The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court, + For my being absent?- whereunto I never + Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far + To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand, + Th' elected deer before thee? + PISANIO. But to win time + To lose so bad employment, in the which + I have consider'd of a course. Good lady, + Hear me with patience. + IMOGEN. Talk thy tongue weary- speak. + I have heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear, + Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, + Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. + PISANIO. Then, madam, + I thought you would not back again. + IMOGEN. Most like- + Bringing me here to kill me. + PISANIO. Not so, neither; + But if I were as wise as honest, then + My purpose would prove well. It cannot be + But that my master is abus'd. Some villain, + Ay, and singular in his art, hath done you both + This cursed injury. + IMOGEN. Some Roman courtezan! + PISANIO. No, on my life! + I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him + Some bloody sign of it, for 'tis commanded + I should do so. You shall be miss'd at court, + And that will well confirm it. + IMOGEN. Why, good fellow, + What shall I do the while? where bide? how live? + Or in my life what comfort, when I am + Dead to my husband? + PISANIO. If you'll back to th' court- + IMOGEN. No court, no father, nor no more ado + With that harsh, noble, simple nothing- + That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me + As fearful as a siege. + PISANIO. If not at court, + Then not in Britain must you bide. + IMOGEN. Where then? + Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, + Are they not but in Britain? I' th' world's volume + Our Britain seems as of it, but not in't; + In a great pool a swan's nest. Prithee think + There's livers out of Britain. + PISANIO. I am most glad + You think of other place. Th' ambassador, + LUCIUS the Roman, comes to Milford Haven + To-morrow. Now, if you could wear a mind + Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise + That which t' appear itself must not yet be + But by self-danger, you should tread a course + Pretty and full of view; yea, happily, near + The residence of Posthumus; so nigh, at least, + That though his actions were not visible, yet + Report should render him hourly to your ear + As truly as he moves. + IMOGEN. O! for such means, + Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, + I would adventure. + PISANIO. Well then, here's the point: + You must forget to be a woman; change + Command into obedience; fear and niceness- + The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, + Woman it pretty self- into a waggish courage; + Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and + As quarrelous as the weasel. Nay, you must + Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, + Exposing it- but, O, the harder heart! + Alack, no remedy!- to the greedy touch + Of common-kissing Titan, and forget + Your laboursome and dainty trims wherein + You made great Juno angry. + IMOGEN. Nay, be brief; + I see into thy end, and am almost + A man already. + PISANIO. First, make yourself but like one. + Fore-thinking this, I have already fit- + 'Tis in my cloak-bag- doublet, hat, hose, all + That answer to them. Would you, in their serving, + And with what imitation you can borrow + From youth of such a season, fore noble Lucius + Present yourself, desire his service, tell him + Wherein you're happy- which will make him know + If that his head have ear in music; doubtless + With joy he will embrace you; for he's honourable, + And, doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad- + You have me, rich; and I will never fail + Beginning nor supplyment. + IMOGEN. Thou art all the comfort + The gods will diet me with. Prithee away! + There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even + All that good time will give us. This attempt + I am soldier to, and will abide it with + A prince's courage. Away, I prithee. + PISANIO. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, + Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of + Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, + Here is a box; I had it from the Queen. + What's in't is precious. If you are sick at sea + Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this + Will drive away distemper. To some shade, + And fit you to your manhood. May the gods + Direct you to the best! + IMOGEN. Amen. I thank thee. Exeunt severally + + + + +SCENE V. +Britain. CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, and LORDS + + CYMBELINE. Thus far; and so farewell. + LUCIUS. Thanks, royal sir. + My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence, + And am right sorry that I must report ye + My master's enemy. + CYMBELINE. Our subjects, sir, + Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself + To show less sovereignty than they, must needs + Appear unkinglike. + LUCIUS. So, sir. I desire of you + A conduct overland to Milford Haven. + Madam, all joy befall your Grace, and you! + CYMBELINE. My lords, you are appointed for that office; + The due of honour in no point omit. + So farewell, noble Lucius. + LUCIUS. Your hand, my lord. + CLOTEN. Receive it friendly; but from this time forth + I wear it as your enemy. + LUCIUS. Sir, the event + Is yet to name the winner. Fare you well. + CYMBELINE. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, + Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness! + Exeunt LUCIUS and LORDS + QUEEN. He goes hence frowning; but it honours us + That we have given him cause. + CLOTEN. 'Tis all the better; + Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. + CYMBELINE. Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor + How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely + Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness. + The pow'rs that he already hath in Gallia + Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves + His war for Britain. + QUEEN. 'Tis not sleepy business, + But must be look'd to speedily and strongly. + CYMBELINE. Our expectation that it would be thus + Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, + Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd + Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd + The duty of the day. She looks us like + A thing more made of malice than of duty; + We have noted it. Call her before us, for + We have been too slight in sufferance. Exit a MESSENGER + QUEEN. Royal sir, + Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd + Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, + 'Tis time must do. Beseech your Majesty, + Forbear sharp speeches to her; she's a lady + So tender of rebukes that words are strokes, + And strokes death to her. + + Re-enter MESSENGER + + CYMBELINE. Where is she, sir? How + Can her contempt be answer'd? + MESSENGER. Please you, sir, + Her chambers are all lock'd, and there's no answer + That will be given to th' loud of noise we make. + QUEEN. My lord, when last I went to visit her, + She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close; + Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity + She should that duty leave unpaid to you + Which daily she was bound to proffer. This + She wish'd me to make known; but our great court + Made me to blame in memory. + CYMBELINE. Her doors lock'd? + Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear + Prove false! Exit + QUEEN. Son, I say, follow the King. + CLOTEN. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, + I have not seen these two days. + QUEEN. Go, look after. Exit CLOTEN + Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus! + He hath a drug of mine. I pray his absence + Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes + It is a thing most precious. But for her, + Where is she gone? Haply despair hath seiz'd her; + Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown + To her desir'd Posthumus. Gone she is + To death or to dishonour, and my end + Can make good use of either. She being down, + I have the placing of the British crown. + + Re-enter CLOTEN + + How now, my son? + CLOTEN. 'Tis certain she is fled. + Go in and cheer the King. He rages; none + Dare come about him. + QUEEN. All the better. May + This night forestall him of the coming day! Exit + CLOTEN. I love and hate her; for she's fair and royal, + And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite + Than lady, ladies, woman. From every one + The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, + Outsells them all. I love her therefore; but + Disdaining me and throwing favours on + The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment + That what's else rare is chok'd; and in that point + I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, + To be reveng'd upon her. For when fools + Shall- + + Enter PISANIO + + Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? + Come hither. Ah, you precious pander! Villain, + Where is thy lady? In a word, or else + Thou art straightway with the fiends. + PISANIO. O good my lord! + CLOTEN. Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter- + I will not ask again. Close villain, + I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip + Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? + From whose so many weights of baseness cannot + A dram of worth be drawn. + PISANIO. Alas, my lord, + How can she be with him? When was she miss'd? + He is in Rome. + CLOTEN. Where is she, sir? Come nearer. + No farther halting! Satisfy me home + What is become of her. + PISANIO. O my all-worthy lord! + CLOTEN. All-worthy villain! + Discover where thy mistress is at once, + At the next word. No more of 'worthy lord'! + Speak, or thy silence on the instant is + Thy condemnation and thy death. + PISANIO. Then, sir, + This paper is the history of my knowledge + Touching her flight. [Presenting a letter] + CLOTEN. Let's see't. I will pursue her + Even to Augustus' throne. + PISANIO. [Aside] Or this or perish. + She's far enough; and what he learns by this + May prove his travel, not her danger. + CLOTEN. Humh! + PISANIO. [Aside] I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, + Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again! + CLOTEN. Sirrah, is this letter true? + PISANIO. Sir, as I think. + CLOTEN. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. Sirrah, if thou wouldst + not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those + employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a + serious industry- that is, what villainy soe'er I bid thee do, to + perform it directly and truly- I would think thee an honest man; + thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice + for thy preferment. + PISANIO. Well, my good lord. + CLOTEN. Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly thou + hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou + canst not, in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower + of mine. Wilt thou serve me? + PISANIO. Sir, I will. + CLOTEN. Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy late + master's garments in thy possession? + PISANIO. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when + he took leave of my lady and mistress. + CLOTEN. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither. Let + it be thy first service; go. + PISANIO. I shall, my lord. Exit + CLOTEN. Meet thee at Milford Haven! I forgot to ask him one thing; + I'll remember't anon. Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I + kill thee. I would these garments were come. She said upon a + time- the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart- that she + held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble + and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. + With that suit upon my back will I ravish her; first kill him, + and in her eyes. There shall she see my valour, which will then + be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of + insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined- + which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that + she so prais'd- to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home + again. She hath despis'd me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my + revenge. + + Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes + + Be those the garments? + PISANIO. Ay, my noble lord. + CLOTEN. How long is't since she went to Milford Haven? + PISANIO. She can scarce be there yet. + CLOTEN. Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing + that I have commanded thee. The third is that thou wilt be a + voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous and true, preferment + shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford, would + I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true. Exit + PISANIO. Thou bid'st me to my loss; for true to thee + Were to prove false, which I will never be, + To him that is most true. To Milford go, + And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow, + You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed + Be cross'd with slowness! Labour be his meed! Exit + + + + +SCENE VI. +Wales. Before the cave of BELARIUS + +Enter IMOGEN alone, in boy's clothes + + IMOGEN. I see a man's life is a tedious one. + I have tir'd myself, and for two nights together + Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick + But that my resolution helps me. Milford, + When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, + Thou wast within a ken. O Jove! I think + Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean, + Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me + I could not miss my way. Will poor folks lie, + That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis + A punishment or trial? Yes; no wonder, + When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fulness + Is sorer than to lie for need; and falsehood + Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord! + Thou art one o' th' false ones. Now I think on thee + My hunger's gone; but even before, I was + At point to sink for food. But what is this? + Here is a path to't; 'tis some savage hold. + I were best not call; I dare not call. Yet famine, + Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. + Plenty and peace breeds cowards; hardness ever + Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here? + If anything that's civil, speak; if savage, + Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll enter. + Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy + But fear the sword, like me, he'll scarcely look on't. + Such a foe, good heavens! Exit into the cave + + Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS + + BELARIUS. You, Polydore, have prov'd best woodman and + Are master of the feast. Cadwal and I + Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match. + The sweat of industry would dry and die + But for the end it works to. Come, our stomachs + Will make what's homely savoury; weariness + Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth + Finds the down pillow hard. Now, peace be here, + Poor house, that keep'st thyself! + GUIDERIUS. I am thoroughly weary. + ARVIRAGUS. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. + GUIDERIUS. There is cold meat i' th' cave; we'll browse on that + Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. + BELARIUS. [Looking into the cave] Stay, come not in. + But that it eats our victuals, I should think + Here were a fairy. + GUIDERIUS. What's the matter, sir? + BELARIUS.. By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not, + An earthly paragon! Behold divineness + No elder than a boy! + + Re-enter IMOGEN + + IMOGEN. Good masters, harm me not. + Before I enter'd here I call'd, and thought + To have begg'd or bought what I have took. Good troth, + I have stol'n nought; nor would not though I had found + Gold strew'd i' th' floor. Here's money for my meat. + I would have left it on the board, so soon + As I had made my meal, and parted + With pray'rs for the provider. + GUIDERIUS. Money, youth? + ARVIRAGUS. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt, + As 'tis no better reckon'd but of those + Who worship dirty gods. + IMOGEN. I see you're angry. + Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should + Have died had I not made it. + BELARIUS. Whither bound? + IMOGEN. To Milford Haven. + BELARIUS. What's your name? + IMOGEN. Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who + Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford; + To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, + I am fall'n in this offence. + BELARIUS. Prithee, fair youth, + Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds + By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd! + 'Tis almost night; you shall have better cheer + Ere you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it. + Boys, bid him welcome. + GUIDERIUS. Were you a woman, youth, + I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty + I bid for you as I'd buy. + ARVIRAGUS. I'll make't my comfort + He is a man. I'll love him as my brother; + And such a welcome as I'd give to him + After long absence, such is yours. Most welcome! + Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. + IMOGEN. 'Mongst friends, + If brothers. [Aside] Would it had been so that they + Had been my father's sons! Then had my prize + Been less, and so more equal ballasting + To thee, Posthumus. + BELARIUS. He wrings at some distress. + GUIDERIUS. Would I could free't! + ARVIRAGUS. Or I, whate'er it be, + What pain it cost, what danger! Gods! + BELARIUS. [Whispering] Hark, boys. + IMOGEN. [Aside] Great men, + That had a court no bigger than this cave, + That did attend themselves, and had the virtue + Which their own conscience seal'd them, laying by + That nothing-gift of differing multitudes, + Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods! + I'd change my sex to be companion with them, + Since Leonatus' false. + BELARIUS. It shall be so. + Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in. + Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd, + We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story, + So far as thou wilt speak it. + GUIDERIUS. Pray draw near. + ARVIRAGUS. The night to th' owl and morn to th' lark less welcome. + IMOGEN. Thanks, sir. + ARVIRAGUS. I pray draw near. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VII. +Rome. A public place + +Enter two ROMAN SENATORS and TRIBUNES + + FIRST SENATOR. This is the tenour of the Emperor's writ: + That since the common men are now in action + 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians, + And that the legions now in Gallia are + Full weak to undertake our wars against + The fall'n-off Britons, that we do incite + The gentry to this business. He creates + Lucius proconsul; and to you, the tribunes, + For this immediate levy, he commands + His absolute commission. Long live Caesar! + TRIBUNE. Is Lucius general of the forces? + SECOND SENATOR. Ay. + TRIBUNE. Remaining now in Gallia? + FIRST SENATOR. With those legions + Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy + Must be supplyant. The words of your commission + Will tie you to the numbers and the time + Of their dispatch. + TRIBUNE. We will discharge our duty. Exeunt + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +Wales. Near the cave of BELARIUS + +Enter CLOTEN alone + + CLOTEN. I am near to th' place where they should meet, if Pisanio + have mapp'd it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should + his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be + fit too? The rather- saving reverence of the word- for 'tis said + a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. + I dare speak it to myself, for it is not vain-glory for a man and + his glass to confer in his own chamber- I mean, the lines of my + body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not + beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, + above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and + more remarkable in single oppositions. Yet this imperceiverant + thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy + head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this + hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces + before her face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father, + who may, haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my + mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my + commendations. My horse is tied up safe. Out, sword, and to a + sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand. This is the very + description of their meeting-place; and the fellow dares not + deceive me. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Wales. Before the cave of BELARIUS + +Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN + + BELARIUS. [To IMOGEN] You are not well. Remain here in the cave; + We'll come to you after hunting. + ARVIRAGUS. [To IMOGEN] Brother, stay here. + Are we not brothers? + IMOGEN. So man and man should be; + But clay and clay differs in dignity, + Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. + GUIDERIUS. Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him. + IMOGEN. So sick I am not, yet I am not well; + But not so citizen a wanton as + To seem to die ere sick. So please you, leave me; + Stick to your journal course. The breach of custom + Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me + Cannot amend me; society is no comfort + To one not sociable. I am not very sick, + Since I can reason of it. Pray you trust me here. + I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, + Stealing so poorly. + GUIDERIUS. I love thee; I have spoke it. + How much the quantity, the weight as much + As I do love my father. + BELARIUS. What? how? how? + ARVIRAGUS. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me + In my good brother's fault. I know not why + I love this youth, and I have heard you say + Love's reason's without reason. The bier at door, + And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say + 'My father, not this youth.' + BELARIUS. [Aside] O noble strain! + O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! + Cowards father cowards and base things sire base. + Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. + I'm not their father; yet who this should be + Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me.- + 'Tis the ninth hour o' th' morn. + ARVIRAGUS. Brother, farewell. + IMOGEN. I wish ye sport. + ARVIRAGUS. Your health. [To BELARIUS] So please you, sir. + IMOGEN. [Aside] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have + heard! + Our courtiers say all's savage but at court. + Experience, O, thou disprov'st report! + Th' imperious seas breed monsters; for the dish, + Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. + I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio, + I'll now taste of thy drug. [Swallows some] + GUIDERIUS. I could not stir him. + He said he was gentle, but unfortunate; + Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. + ARVIRAGUS. Thus did he answer me; yet said hereafter + I might know more. + BELARIUS. To th' field, to th' field! + We'll leave you for this time. Go in and rest. + ARVIRAGUS. We'll not be long away. + BELARIUS. Pray be not sick, + For you must be our huswife. + IMOGEN. Well, or ill, + I am bound to you. + BELARIUS. And shalt be ever. Exit IMOGEN into the cave + This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears he hath had + Good ancestors. + ARVIRAGUS. How angel-like he sings! + GUIDERIUS. But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in characters, + And sauc'd our broths as Juno had been sick, + And he her dieter. + ARVIRAGUS. Nobly he yokes + A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh + Was that it was for not being such a smile; + The smile mocking the sigh that it would fly + From so divine a temple to commix + With winds that sailors rail at. + GUIDERIUS. I do note + That grief and patience, rooted in him both, + Mingle their spurs together. + ARVIRAGUS. Grow patience! + And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine + His perishing root with the increasing vine! + BELARIUS. It is great morning. Come, away! Who's there? + + Enter CLOTEN + + CLOTEN. I cannot find those runagates; that villain + Hath mock'd me. I am faint. + BELARIUS. Those runagates? + Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis + Cloten, the son o' th' Queen. I fear some ambush. + I saw him not these many years, and yet + I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws. Hence! + GUIDERIUS. He is but one; you and my brother search + What companies are near. Pray you away; + Let me alone with him. Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS + CLOTEN. Soft! What are you + That fly me thus? Some villain mountaineers? + I have heard of such. What slave art thou? + GUIDERIUS. A thing + More slavish did I ne'er than answering + 'A slave' without a knock. + CLOTEN. Thou art a robber, + A law-breaker, a villain. Yield thee, thief. + GUIDERIUS. To who? To thee? What art thou? Have not I + An arm as big as thine, a heart as big? + Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not + My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art; + Why I should yield to thee. + CLOTEN. Thou villain base, + Know'st me not by my clothes? + GUIDERIUS. No, nor thy tailor, rascal, + Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes, + Which, as it seems, make thee. + CLOTEN. Thou precious varlet, + My tailor made them not. + GUIDERIUS. Hence, then, and thank + The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool; + I am loath to beat thee. + CLOTEN. Thou injurious thief, + Hear but my name, and tremble. + GUIDERIUS. What's thy name? + CLOTEN. Cloten, thou villain. + GUIDERIUS. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, + I cannot tremble at it. Were it toad, or adder, spider, + 'Twould move me sooner. + CLOTEN. To thy further fear, + Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know + I am son to th' Queen. + GUIDERIUS. I'm sorry for't; not seeming + So worthy as thy birth. + CLOTEN. Art not afeard? + GUIDERIUS. Those that I reverence, those I fear- the wise: + At fools I laugh, not fear them. + CLOTEN. Die the death. + When I have slain thee with my proper hand, + I'll follow those that even now fled hence, + And on the gates of Lud's Town set your heads. + Yield, rustic mountaineer. Exeunt, fighting + + Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS + + BELARIUS. No company's abroad. + ARVIRAGUS. None in the world; you did mistake him, sure. + BELARIUS. I cannot tell; long is it since I saw him, + But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour + Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, + And burst of speaking, were as his. I am absolute + 'Twas very Cloten. + ARVIRAGUS. In this place we left them. + I wish my brother make good time with him, + You say he is so fell. + BELARIUS. Being scarce made up, + I mean to man, he had not apprehension + Or roaring terrors; for defect of judgment + Is oft the cease of fear. + + Re-enter GUIDERIUS with CLOTEN'S head + + But, see, thy brother. + GUIDERIUS. This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse; + There was no money in't. Not Hercules + Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none; + Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne + My head as I do his. + BELARIUS. What hast thou done? + GUIDERIUS. I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head, + Son to the Queen, after his own report; + Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore + With his own single hand he'd take us in, + Displace our heads where- thank the gods!- they grow, + And set them on Lud's Town. + BELARIUS. We are all undone. + GUIDERIUS. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose + But that he swore to take, our lives? The law + Protects not us; then why should we be tender + To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us, + Play judge and executioner all himself, + For we do fear the law? What company + Discover you abroad? + BELARIUS. No single soul + Can we set eye on, but in an safe reason + He must have some attendants. Though his humour + Was nothing but mutation- ay, and that + From one bad thing to worse- not frenzy, not + Absolute madness could so far have rav'd, + To bring him here alone. Although perhaps + It may be heard at court that such as we + Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time + May make some stronger head- the which he hearing, + As it is like him, might break out and swear + He'd fetch us in; yet is't not probable + To come alone, either he so undertaking + Or they so suffering. Then on good ground we fear, + If we do fear this body hath a tail + More perilous than the head. + ARVIRAGUS. Let ordinance + Come as the gods foresay it. Howsoe'er, + My brother hath done well. + BELARIUS. I had no mind + To hunt this day; the boy Fidele's sickness + Did make my way long forth. + GUIDERIUS. With his own sword, + Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en + His head from him. I'll throw't into the creek + Behind our rock, and let it to the sea + And tell the fishes he's the Queen's son, Cloten. + That's all I reck. Exit + BELARIUS. I fear'twill be reveng'd. + Would, Polydore, thou hadst not done't! though valour + Becomes thee well enough. + ARVIRAGUS. Would I had done't, + So the revenge alone pursu'd me! Polydore, + I love thee brotherly, but envy much + Thou hast robb'd me of this deed. I would revenges, + That possible strength might meet, would seek us through, + And put us to our answer. + BELARIUS. Well, 'tis done. + We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger + Where there's no profit. I prithee to our rock. + You and Fidele play the cooks; I'll stay + Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him + To dinner presently. + ARVIRAGUS. Poor sick Fidele! + I'll willingly to him; to gain his colour + I'd let a parish of such Cloten's blood, + And praise myself for charity. Exit + BELARIUS. O thou goddess, + Thou divine Nature, thou thyself thou blazon'st + In these two princely boys! They are as gentle + As zephyrs blowing below the violet, + Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, + Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind + That by the top doth take the mountain pine + And make him stoop to th' vale. 'Tis wonder + That an invisible instinct should frame them + To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught, + Civility not seen from other, valour + That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop + As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it's strange + What Cloten's being here to us portends, + Or what his death will bring us. + + Re-enter GUIDERIUS + + GUIDERIUS. Where's my brother? + I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream, + In embassy to his mother; his body's hostage + For his return. [Solemn music] + BELARIUS. My ingenious instrument! + Hark, Polydore, it sounds. But what occasion + Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark! + GUIDERIUS. Is he at home? + BELARIUS. He went hence even now. + GUIDERIUS. What does he mean? Since death of my dear'st mother + It did not speak before. All solemn things + Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? + Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys + Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. + Is Cadwal mad? + + Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN as dead, bearing + her in his arms + + BELARIUS. Look, here he comes, + And brings the dire occasion in his arms + Of what we blame him for! + ARVIRAGUS. The bird is dead + That we have made so much on. I had rather + Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, + To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, + Than have seen this. + GUIDERIUS. O sweetest, fairest lily! + My brother wears thee not the one half so well + As when thou grew'st thyself. + BELARIUS. O melancholy! + Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find + The ooze to show what coast thy sluggish crare + Might'st easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing! + Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I, + Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy. + How found you him? + ARVIRAGUS. Stark, as you see; + Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, + Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his right cheek + Reposing on a cushion. + GUIDERIUS. Where? + ARVIRAGUS. O' th' floor; + His arms thus leagu'd. I thought he slept, and put + My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness + Answer'd my steps too loud. + GUIDERIUS. Why, he but sleeps. + If he be gone he'll make his grave a bed; + With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, + And worms will not come to thee. + ARVIRAGUS. With fairest flowers, + Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, + I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack + The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor + The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor + The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, + Out-sweet'ned not thy breath. The ruddock would, + With charitable bill- O bill, sore shaming + Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie + Without a monument!- bring thee all this; + Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flow'rs are none, + To winter-ground thy corse- + GUIDERIUS. Prithee have done, + And do not play in wench-like words with that + Which is so serious. Let us bury him, + And not protract with admiration what + Is now due debt. To th' grave. + ARVIRAGUS. Say, where shall's lay him? + GUIDERIUS. By good Euriphile, our mother. + ARVIRAGUS. Be't so; + And let us, Polydore, though now our voices + Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th' ground, + As once to our mother; use like note and words, + Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. + GUIDERIUS. Cadwal, + I cannot sing. I'll weep, and word it with thee; + For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse + Than priests and fanes that lie. + ARVIRAGUS. We'll speak it, then. + BELARIUS. Great griefs, I see, med'cine the less, for Cloten + Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys; + And though he came our enemy, remember + He was paid for that. Though mean and mighty rotting + Together have one dust, yet reverence- + That angel of the world- doth make distinction + Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely; + And though you took his life, as being our foe, + Yet bury him as a prince. + GUIDERIUS. Pray you fetch him hither. + Thersites' body is as good as Ajax', + When neither are alive. + ARVIRAGUS. If you'll go fetch him, + We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin. + Exit BELARIUS + GUIDERIUS. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to th' East; + My father hath a reason for't. + ARVIRAGUS. 'Tis true. + GUIDERIUS. Come on, then, and remove him. + ARVIRAGUS. So. Begin. + + SONG + + GUIDERIUS. Fear no more the heat o' th' sun + Nor the furious winter's rages; + Thou thy worldly task hast done, + Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. + Golden lads and girls all must, + As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. + + ARVIRAGUS. Fear no more the frown o' th' great; + Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. + Care no more to clothe and eat; + To thee the reed is as the oak. + The sceptre, learning, physic, must + All follow this and come to dust. + + GUIDERIUS. Fear no more the lightning flash, + ARVIRAGUS. Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone; + GUIDERIUS. Fear not slander, censure rash; + ARVIRAGUS. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan. + BOTH. All lovers young, all lovers must + Consign to thee and come to dust. + + GUIDERIUS. No exorciser harm thee! + ARVIRAGUS. Nor no witchcraft charm thee! + GUIDERIUS. Ghost unlaid forbear thee! + ARVIRAGUS. Nothing ill come near thee! + BOTH. Quiet consummation have, + And renowned be thy grave! + + Re-enter BELARIUS with the body of CLOTEN + + GUIDERIUS. We have done our obsequies. Come, lay him down. + BELARIUS. Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more. + The herbs that have on them cold dew o' th' night + Are strewings fit'st for graves. Upon their faces. + You were as flow'rs, now wither'd. Even so + These herblets shall which we upon you strew. + Come on, away. Apart upon our knees. + The ground that gave them first has them again. + Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. + Exeunt all but IMOGEN + IMOGEN. [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford Haven. Which is the way? + I thank you. By yond bush? Pray, how far thither? + 'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet? + I have gone all night. Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. + But, soft! no bedfellow. O gods and goddesses! + [Seeing the body] + These flow'rs are like the pleasures of the world; + This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream; + For so I thought I was a cave-keeper, + And cook to honest creatures. But 'tis not so; + 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, + Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes + Are sometimes, like our judgments, blind. Good faith, + I tremble still with fear; but if there be + Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity + As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! + The dream's here still. Even when I wake it is + Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt. + A headless man? The garments of Posthumus? + I know the shape of's leg; this is his hand, + His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh, + The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial face- + Murder in heaven! How! 'Tis gone. Pisanio, + All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, + And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, + Conspir'd with that irregulous devil, Cloten, + Hath here cut off my lord. To write and read + Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio + Hath with his forged letters- damn'd Pisanio- + From this most bravest vessel of the world + Struck the main-top. O Posthumus! alas, + Where is thy head? Where's that? Ay me! where's that? + Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, + And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio? + 'Tis he and Cloten; malice and lucre in them + Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant! + The drug he gave me, which he said was precious + And cordial to me, have I not found it + Murd'rous to th' senses? That confirms it home. + This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten. O! + Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, + That we the horrider may seem to those + Which chance to find us. O, my lord, my lord! + [Falls fainting on the body] + + Enter LUCIUS, CAPTAINS, and a SOOTHSAYER + + CAPTAIN. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia, + After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending + You here at Milford Haven; with your ships, + They are in readiness. + LUCIUS. But what from Rome? + CAPTAIN. The Senate hath stirr'd up the confiners + And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits, + That promise noble service; and they come + Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, + Sienna's brother. + LUCIUS. When expect you them? + CAPTAIN. With the next benefit o' th' wind. + LUCIUS. This forwardness + Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers + Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir, + What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose? + SOOTHSAYER. Last night the very gods show'd me a vision- + I fast and pray'd for their intelligence- thus: + I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd + From the spongy south to this part of the west, + There vanish'd in the sunbeams; which portends, + Unless my sins abuse my divination, + Success to th' Roman host. + LUCIUS. Dream often so, + And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here + Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime + It was a worthy building. How? a page? + Or dead or sleeping on him? But dead, rather; + For nature doth abhor to make his bed + With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. + Let's see the boy's face. + CAPTAIN. He's alive, my lord. + LUCIUS. He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one, + Inform us of thy fortunes; for it seems + They crave to be demanded. Who is this + Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow? Or who was he + That, otherwise than noble nature did, + Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest + In this sad wreck? How came't? Who is't? What art thou? + IMOGEN. I am nothing; or if not, + Nothing to be were better. This was my master, + A very valiant Briton and a good, + That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas! + There is no more such masters. I may wander + From east to occident; cry out for service; + Try many, all good; serve truly; never + Find such another master. + LUCIUS. 'Lack, good youth! + Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining than + Thy master in bleeding. Say his name, good friend. + IMOGEN. Richard du Champ. [Aside] If I do lie, and do + No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope + They'll pardon it.- Say you, sir? + LUCIUS. Thy name? + IMOGEN. Fidele, sir. + LUCIUS. Thou dost approve thyself the very same; + Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name. + Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say + Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be sure, + No less belov'd. The Roman Emperor's letters, + Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner + Than thine own worth prefer thee. Go with me. + IMOGEN. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, + I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep + As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when + With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave, + And on it said a century of prayers, + Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh; + And leaving so his service, follow you, + So please you entertain me. + LUCIUS. Ay, good youth; + And rather father thee than master thee. + My friends, + The boy hath taught us manly duties; let us + Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, + And make him with our pikes and partisans + A grave. Come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd + By thee to us; and he shall be interr'd + As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes. + Some falls are means the happier to arise. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Britain. CYMBELINE'S palace + +Enter CYMBELINE, LORDS, PISANIO, and attendants + + CYMBELINE. Again! and bring me word how 'tis with her. + Exit an attendant + A fever with the absence of her son; + A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens, + How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, + The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen + Upon a desperate bed, and in a time + When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, + So needful for this present. It strikes me past + The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, + Who needs must know of her departure and + Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee + By a sharp torture. + PISANIO. Sir, my life is yours; + I humbly set it at your will; but for my mistress, + I nothing know where she remains, why gone, + Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your Highness, + Hold me your loyal servant. + LORD. Good my liege, + The day that she was missing he was here. + I dare be bound he's true and shall perform + All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, + There wants no diligence in seeking him, + And will no doubt be found. + CYMBELINE. The time is troublesome. + [To PISANIO] We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy + Does yet depend. + LORD. So please your Majesty, + The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, + Are landed on your coast, with a supply + Of Roman gentlemen by the Senate sent. + CYMBELINE. Now for the counsel of my son and queen! + I am amaz'd with matter. + LORD. Good my liege, + Your preparation can affront no less + Than what you hear of. Come more, for more you're ready. + The want is but to put those pow'rs in motion + That long to move. + CYMBELINE. I thank you. Let's withdraw, + And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not + What can from Italy annoy us; but + We grieve at chances here. Away! Exeunt all but PISANIO + PISANIO. I heard no letter from my master since + I wrote him Imogen was slain. 'Tis strange. + Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise + To yield me often tidings. Neither know + What is betid to Cloten, but remain + Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work. + Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true. + These present wars shall find I love my country, + Even to the note o' th' King, or I'll fall in them. + All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: + Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +Wales. Before the cave of BELARIUS + +Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS + + GUIDERIUS. The noise is round about us. + BELARIUS. Let us from it. + ARVIRAGUS. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it + From action and adventure? + GUIDERIUS. Nay, what hope + Have we in hiding us? This way the Romans + Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us + For barbarous and unnatural revolts + During their use, and slay us after. + BELARIUS. Sons, + We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. + To the King's party there's no going. Newness + Of Cloten's death- we being not known, not muster'd + Among the bands-may drive us to a render + Where we have liv'd, and so extort from's that + Which we have done, whose answer would be death, + Drawn on with torture. + GUIDERIUS. This is, sir, a doubt + In such a time nothing becoming you + Nor satisfying us. + ARVIRAGUS. It is not likely + That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, + Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes + And ears so cloy'd importantly as now, + That they will waste their time upon our note, + To know from whence we are. + BELARIUS. O, I am known + Of many in the army. Many years, + Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him + From my remembrance. And, besides, the King + Hath not deserv'd my service nor your loves, + Who find in my exile the want of breeding, + The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless + To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd, + But to be still hot summer's tanlings and + The shrinking slaves of winter. + GUIDERIUS. Than be so, + Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to th' army. + I and my brother are not known; yourself + So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, + Cannot be questioned. + ARVIRAGUS. By this sun that shines, + I'll thither. What thing is't that I never + Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood + But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison! + Never bestrid a horse, save one that had + A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel + Nor iron on his heel! I am asham'd + To look upon the holy sun, to have + The benefit of his blest beams, remaining + So long a poor unknown. + GUIDERIUS. By heavens, I'll go! + If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, + I'll take the better care; but if you will not, + The hazard therefore due fall on me by + The hands of Romans! + ARVIRAGUS. So say I. Amen. + BELARIUS. No reason I, since of your lives you set + So slight a valuation, should reserve + My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys! + If in your country wars you chance to die, + That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie. + Lead, lead. [Aside] The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn + Till it fly out and show them princes born. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Britain. The Roman camp + +Enter POSTHUMUS alone, with a bloody handkerchief + + POSTHUMUS. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wish'd + Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones, + If each of you should take this course, how many + Must murder wives much better than themselves + For wrying but a little! O Pisanio! + Every good servant does not all commands; + No bond but to do just ones. Gods! if you + Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never + Had liv'd to put on this; so had you saved + The noble Imogen to repent, and struck + Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But alack, + You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, + To have them fall no more. You some permit + To second ills with ills, each elder worse, + And make them dread it, to the doer's thrift. + But Imogen is your own. Do your best wills, + And make me blest to obey. I am brought hither + Among th' Italian gentry, and to fight + Against my lady's kingdom. 'Tis enough + That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace! + I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, + Hear patiently my purpose. I'll disrobe me + Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself + As does a Britain peasant. So I'll fight + Against the part I come with; so I'll die + For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life + Is every breath a death. And thus unknown, + Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril + Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know + More valour in me than my habits show. + Gods, put the strength o' th' Leonati in me! + To shame the guise o' th' world, I will begin + The fashion- less without and more within. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Britain. A field of battle between the British and Roman camps + +Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman army at one door, and the British army +at another, LEONATUS POSTHUMUS following like a poor soldier. +They march over and go out. Alarums. Then enter again, in skirmish, +IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS. He vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, +and then leaves him + + IACHIMO. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom + Takes off my manhood. I have belied a lady, + The Princess of this country, and the air on't + Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, + A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me + In my profession? Knighthoods and honours borne + As I wear mine are titles but of scorn. + If that thy gentry, Britain, go before + This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds + Is that we scarce are men, and you are gods. Exit + + The battle continues; the BRITONS fly; CYMBELINE is taken. + Then enter to his rescue BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS + + BELARIUS. Stand, stand! We have th' advantage of the ground; + The lane is guarded; nothing routs us but + The villainy of our fears. + GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS. Stand, stand, and fight! + + Re-enter POSTHUMUS, and seconds the Britons; they rescue + CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then re-enter LUCIUS and IACHIMO, + with IMOGEN + + LUCIUS. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; + For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such + As war were hoodwink'd. + IACHIMO. 'Tis their fresh supplies. + LUCIUS. It is a day turn'd strangely. Or betimes + Let's reinforce or fly. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Another part of the field + +Enter POSTHUMUS and a Britain LORD + + LORD. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand? + POSTHUMUS. I did: + Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. + LORD. I did. + POSTHUMUS. No blame be to you, sir, for all was lost, + But that the heavens fought. The King himself + Of his wings destitute, the army broken, + And but the backs of Britons seen, an flying, + Through a strait lane- the enemy, full-hearted, + Lolling the tongue with slaught'ring, having work + More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down + Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling + Merely through fear, that the strait pass was damm'd + With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living + To die with length'ned shame. + LORD. Where was this lane? + POSTHUMUS. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf, + Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier- + An honest one, I warrant, who deserv'd + So long a breeding as his white beard came to, + In doing this for's country. Athwart the lane + He, with two striplings- lads more like to run + The country base than to commit such slaughter; + With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer + Than those for preservation cas'd or shame- + Made good the passage, cried to those that fled + 'Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men. + To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards! Stand; + Or we are Romans and will give you that, + Like beasts, which you shun beastly, and may save + But to look back in frown. Stand, stand!' These three, + Three thousand confident, in act as many- + For three performers are the file when all + The rest do nothing- with this word 'Stand, stand!' + Accommodated by the place, more charming + With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd + A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks, + Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some turn'd coward + But by example- O, a sin in war + Damn'd in the first beginners!- gan to look + The way that they did and to grin like lions + Upon the pikes o' th' hunters. Then began + A stop i' th' chaser, a retire; anon + A rout, confusion thick. Forthwith they fly, + Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves, + The strides they victors made; and now our cowards, + Like fragments in hard voyages, became + The life o' th' need. Having found the back-door open + Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound! + Some slain before, some dying, some their friends + O'erborne i' th' former wave. Ten chas'd by one + Are now each one the slaughterman of twenty. + Those that would die or ere resist are grown + The mortal bugs o' th' field. + LORD. This was strange chance: + A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys. + POSTHUMUS. Nay, do not wonder at it; you are made + Rather to wonder at the things you hear + Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't, + And vent it for a mock'ry? Here is one: + 'Two boys, an old man (twice a boy), a lane, + Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane.' + LORD. Nay, be not angry, sir. + POSTHUMUS. 'Lack, to what end? + Who dares not stand his foe I'll be his friend; + For if he'll do as he is made to do, + I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too. + You have put me into rhyme. + LORD. Farewell; you're angry. Exit + POSTHUMUS. Still going? This is a lord! O noble misery, + To be i' th' field and ask 'What news?' of me! + To-day how many would have given their honours + To have sav'd their carcasses! took heel to do't, + And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd, + Could not find death where I did hear him groan, + Nor feel him where he struck. Being an ugly monster, + 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, + Sweet words; or hath moe ministers than we + That draw his knives i' th' war. Well, I will find him; + For being now a favourer to the Briton, + No more a Briton, I have resum'd again + The part I came in. Fight I will no more, + But yield me to the veriest hind that shall + Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is + Here made by th' Roman; great the answer be + Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death; + On either side I come to spend my breath, + Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again, + But end it by some means for Imogen. + + Enter two BRITISH CAPTAINS and soldiers + + FIRST CAPTAIN. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Lucius is taken. + 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. + SECOND CAPTAIN. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, + That gave th' affront with them. + FIRST CAPTAIN. So 'tis reported; + But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there? + POSTHUMUS. A Roman, + Who had not now been drooping here if seconds + Had answer'd him. + SECOND CAPTAIN. Lay hands on him; a dog! + A leg of Rome shall not return to tell + What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his service, + As if he were of note. Bring him to th' King. + + Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, and Roman + captives. The CAPTAINS present POSTHUMUS to CYMBELINE, who delivers + him over to a gaoler. Exeunt omnes + + + + +SCENE IV. +Britain. A prison + +Enter POSTHUMUS and two GAOLERS + + FIRST GAOLER. You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you; + So graze as you find pasture. + SECOND GAOLER. Ay, or a stomach. Exeunt GAOLERS + POSTHUMUS. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way, + I think, to liberty. Yet am I better + Than one that's sick o' th' gout, since he had rather + Groan so in perpetuity than be cur'd + By th' sure physician death, who is the key + T' unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd + More than my shanks and wrists; you good gods, give me + The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, + Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry? + So children temporal fathers do appease; + Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent, + I cannot do it better than in gyves, + Desir'd more than constrain'd. To satisfy, + If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take + No stricter render of me than my all. + I know you are more clement than vile men, + Who of their broken debtors take a third, + A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again + On their abatement; that's not my desire. + For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though + 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it. + 'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp; + Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake; + You rather mine, being yours. And so, great pow'rs, + If you will take this audit, take this life, + And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! + I'll speak to thee in silence. [Sleeps] + + Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, SICILIUS + LEONATUS, father to POSTHUMUS, an old man attired + like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient + matron, his WIFE, and mother to POSTHUMUS, with + music before them. Then, after other music, follows + the two young LEONATI, brothers to POSTHUMUS, + with wounds, as they died in the wars. + They circle POSTHUMUS round as he lies sleeping + + SICILIUS. No more, thou thunder-master, show + Thy spite on mortal flies. + With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, + That thy adulteries + Rates and revenges. + Hath my poor boy done aught but well, + Whose face I never saw? + I died whilst in the womb he stay'd + Attending nature's law; + Whose father then, as men report + Thou orphans' father art, + Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him + From this earth-vexing smart. + + MOTHER. Lucina lent not me her aid, + But took me in my throes, + That from me was Posthumus ripp'd, + Came crying 'mongst his foes, + A thing of pity. + + SICILIUS. Great Nature like his ancestry + Moulded the stuff so fair + That he deserv'd the praise o' th' world + As great Sicilius' heir. + + FIRST BROTHER. When once he was mature for man, + In Britain where was he + That could stand up his parallel, + Or fruitful object be + In eye of Imogen, that best + Could deem his dignity? + + MOTHER. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, + To be exil'd and thrown + From Leonati seat and cast + From her his dearest one, + Sweet Imogen? + + SICILIUS. Why did you suffer Iachimo, + Slight thing of Italy, + To taint his nobler heart and brain + With needless jealousy, + And to become the geck and scorn + O' th' other's villainy? + + SECOND BROTHER. For this from stiller seats we came, + Our parents and us twain, + That, striking in our country's cause, + Fell bravely and were slain, + Our fealty and Tenantius' right + With honour to maintain. + + FIRST BROTHER. Like hardiment Posthumus hath + To Cymbeline perform'd. + Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, + Why hast thou thus adjourn'd + The graces for his merits due, + Being all to dolours turn'd? + + SICILIUS. Thy crystal window ope; look out; + No longer exercise + Upon a valiant race thy harsh + And potent injuries. + + MOTHER. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, + Take off his miseries. + + SICILIUS. Peep through thy marble mansion. Help! + Or we poor ghosts will cry + To th' shining synod of the rest + Against thy deity. + + BROTHERS. Help, Jupiter! or we appeal, + And from thy justice fly. + + JUPITER descends-in thunder and lightning, sitting + upon an eagle. He throws a thunderbolt. The GHOSTS + fall on their knees + + JUPITER. No more, you petty spirits of region low, + Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts + Accuse the Thunderer whose bolt, you know, + Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts? + Poor shadows of Elysium, hence and rest + Upon your never-withering banks of flow'rs. + Be not with mortal accidents opprest: + No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours. + Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift, + The more delay'd, delighted. Be content; + Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift; + His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. + Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in + Our temple was he married. Rise and fade! + He shall be lord of Lady Imogen, + And happier much by his affliction made. + This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein + Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine; + And so, away; no farther with your din + Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. + Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. [Ascends] + SICILIUS. He came in thunder; his celestial breath + Was sulpherous to smell; the holy eagle + Stoop'd as to foot us. His ascension is + More sweet than our blest fields. His royal bird + Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak, + As when his god is pleas'd. + ALL. Thanks, Jupiter! + SICILIUS. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd + His radiant roof. Away! and, to be blest, + Let us with care perform his great behest. [GHOSTS vanish] + + POSTHUMUS. [Waking] Sleep, thou has been a grandsire and begot + A father to me; and thou hast created + A mother and two brothers. But, O scorn, + Gone! They went hence so soon as they were born. + And so I am awake. Poor wretches, that depend + On greatness' favour, dream as I have done; + Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve; + Many dream not to find, neither deserve, + And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I, + That have this golden chance, and know not why. + What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one! + Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment + Nobler than that it covers. Let thy effects + So follow to be most unlike our courtiers, + As good as promise. + + [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, + without seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air; + and when from a stately cedar shall be lopp'd branches which, + being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old + stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, + Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.' + + 'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen + Tongue, and brain not; either both or nothing, + Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such + As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, + The action of my life is like it, which + I'll keep, if but for sympathy. + + Re-enter GAOLER + + GAOLER. Come, sir, are you ready for death? + POSTHUMUS. Over-roasted rather; ready long ago. + GAOLER. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready for that, you are + well cook'd. + POSTHUMUS. So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish + pays the shot. + GAOLER. A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you + shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills, + which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth. + You come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much + drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are + paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the heavier + for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of + heaviness. O, of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the + charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice. You + have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, and + to come, the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and + counters; so the acquittance follows. + POSTHUMUS. I am merrier to die than thou art to live. + GAOLER. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache. But a + man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to + bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look + you, sir, you know not which way you shall go. + POSTHUMUS. Yes indeed do I, fellow. + GAOLER. Your death has eyes in's head, then; I have not seen him so + pictur'd. You must either be directed by some that take upon them + to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not + know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril. And how you + shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never return to + tell one. + POSTHUMUS. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct + them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use them. + GAOLER. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the + best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging's + the way of winking. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the King. + POSTHUMUS. Thou bring'st good news: I am call'd to be made free. + GAOLER. I'll be hang'd then. + POSTHUMUS. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the + dead. Exeunt POSTHUMUS and MESSENGER + GAOLER. Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, + I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier + knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman; and there be some + of them too that die against their wills; so should I, if I were + one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good. O, there + were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my + present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in't. Exit + + + + +SCENE V. +Britain. CYMBELINE'S tent + +Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, LORDS, +OFFICERS, and attendants + + CYMBELINE. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made + Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart + That the poor soldier that so richly fought, + Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast + Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found. + He shall be happy that can find him, if + Our grace can make him so. + BELARIUS. I never saw + Such noble fury in so poor a thing; + Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought + But beggary and poor looks. + CYMBELINE. No tidings of him? + PISANIO. He hath been search'd among the dead and living, + But no trace of him. + CYMBELINE. To my grief, I am + The heir of his reward; [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] + which I will add + To you, the liver, heart, and brain, of Britain, + By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time + To ask of whence you are. Report it. + BELARIUS. Sir, + In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen; + Further to boast were neither true nor modest, + Unless I add we are honest. + CYMBELINE. Bow your knees. + Arise my knights o' th' battle; I create you + Companions to our person, and will fit you + With dignities becoming your estates. + + Enter CORNELIUS and LADIES + + There's business in these faces. Why so sadly + Greet you our victory? You look like Romans, + And not o' th' court of Britain. + CORNELIUS. Hail, great King! + To sour your happiness I must report + The Queen is dead. + CYMBELINE. Who worse than a physician + Would this report become? But I consider + By med'cine'life may be prolong'd, yet death + Will seize the doctor too. How ended she? + CORNELIUS. With horror, madly dying, like her life; + Which, being cruel to the world, concluded + Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd + I will report, so please you; these her women + Can trip me if I err, who with wet cheeks + Were present when she finish'd. + CYMBELINE. Prithee say. + CORNELIUS. First, she confess'd she never lov'd you; only + Affected greatness got by you, not you; + Married your royalty, was wife to your place; + Abhorr'd your person. + CYMBELINE. She alone knew this; + And but she spoke it dying, I would not + Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. + CORNELIUS. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love + With such integrity, she did confess + Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, + But that her flight prevented it, she had + Ta'en off by poison. + CYMBELINE. O most delicate fiend! + Who is't can read a woman? Is there more? + CORNELIUS. More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had + For you a mortal mineral, which, being took, + Should by the minute feed on life, and ling'ring, + By inches waste you. In which time she purpos'd, + By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to + O'ercome you with her show; and in time, + When she had fitted you with her craft, to work + Her son into th' adoption of the crown; + But failing of her end by his strange absence, + Grew shameless-desperate, open'd, in despite + Of heaven and men, her purposes, repented + The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so, + Despairing, died. + CYMBELINE. Heard you all this, her women? + LADY. We did, so please your Highness. + CYMBELINE. Mine eyes + Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; + Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart + That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious + To have mistrusted her; yet, O my daughter! + That it was folly in me thou mayst say, + And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! + + Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the SOOTHSAYER, and other + Roman prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS behind, and IMOGEN + + Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that + The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss + Of many a bold one, whose kinsmen have made suit + That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter + Of you their captives, which ourself have granted; + So think of your estate. + LUCIUS. Consider, sir, the chance of war. The day + Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, + We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd + Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods + Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives + May be call'd ransom, let it come. Sufficeth + A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer. + Augustus lives to think on't; and so much + For my peculiar care. This one thing only + I will entreat: my boy, a Briton born, + Let him be ransom'd. Never master had + A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, + So tender over his occasions, true, + So feat, so nurse-like; let his virtue join + With my request, which I'll make bold your Highness + Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm + Though he have serv'd a Roman. Save him, sir, + And spare no blood beside. + CYMBELINE. I have surely seen him; + His favour is familiar to me. Boy, + Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, + And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore + To say 'Live, boy.' Ne'er thank thy master. Live; + And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, + Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it; + Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, + The noblest ta'en. + IMOGEN. I humbly thank your Highness. + LUCIUS. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad, + And yet I know thou wilt. + IMOGEN. No, no! Alack, + There's other work in hand. I see a thing + Bitter to me as death; your life, good master, + Must shuffle for itself. + LUCIUS. The boy disdains me, + He leaves me, scorns me. Briefly die their joys + That place them on the truth of girls and boys. + Why stands he so perplex'd? + CYMBELINE. What wouldst thou, boy? + I love thee more and more; think more and more + What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? Speak, + Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? + IMOGEN. He is a Roman, no more kin to me + Than I to your Highness; who, being born your vassal, + Am something nearer. + CYMBELINE. Wherefore ey'st him so? + IMOGEN. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please + To give me hearing. + CYMBELINE. Ay, with all my heart, + And lend my best attention. What's thy name? + IMOGEN. Fidele, sir. + CYMBELINE. Thou'rt my good youth, my page; + I'll be thy master. Walk with me; speak freely. + [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart] + BELARIUS. Is not this boy reviv'd from death? + ARVIRAGUS. One sand another + Not more resembles- that sweet rosy lad + Who died and was Fidele. What think you? + GUIDERIUS. The same dead thing alive. + BELARIUS. Peace, peace! see further. He eyes us not; forbear. + Creatures may be alike; were't he, I am sure + He would have spoke to us. + GUIDERIUS. But we saw him dead. + BELARIUS. Be silent; let's see further. + PISANIO. [Aside] It is my mistress. + Since she is living, let the time run on + To good or bad. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN advance] + CYMBELINE. Come, stand thou by our side; + Make thy demand aloud. [To IACHIMO] Sir, step you forth; + Give answer to this boy, and do it freely, + Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, + Which is our honour, bitter torture shall + Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him. + IMOGEN. My boon is that this gentleman may render + Of whom he had this ring. + POSTHUMUS. [Aside] What's that to him? + CYMBELINE. That diamond upon your finger, say + How came it yours? + IACHIMO. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that + Which to be spoke would torture thee. + CYMBELINE. How? me? + IACHIMO. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that + Which torments me to conceal. By villainy + I got this ring; 'twas Leonatus' jewel, + Whom thou didst banish; and- which more may grieve thee, + As it doth me- a nobler sir ne'er liv'd + 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? + CYMBELINE. All that belongs to this. + IACHIMO. That paragon, thy daughter, + For whom my heart drops blood and my false spirits + Quail to remember- Give me leave, I faint. + CYMBELINE. My daughter? What of her? Renew thy strength; + I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will + Than die ere I hear more. Strive, man, and speak. + IACHIMO. Upon a time- unhappy was the clock + That struck the hour!- was in Rome- accurs'd + The mansion where!- 'twas at a feast- O, would + Our viands had been poison'd, or at least + Those which I heav'd to head!- the good Posthumus- + What should I say? he was too good to be + Where ill men were, and was the best of all + Amongst the rar'st of good ones- sitting sadly + Hearing us praise our loves of Italy + For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast + Of him that best could speak; for feature, laming + The shrine of Venus or straight-pight Minerva, + Postures beyond brief nature; for condition, + A shop of all the qualities that man + Loves woman for; besides that hook of wiving, + Fairness which strikes the eye- + CYMBELINE. I stand on fire. + Come to the matter. + IACHIMO. All too soon I shall, + Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, + Most like a noble lord in love and one + That had a royal lover, took his hint; + And not dispraising whom we prais'd- therein + He was as calm as virtue- he began + His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made, + And then a mind put in't, either our brags + Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description + Prov'd us unspeaking sots. + CYMBELINE. Nay, nay, to th' purpose. + IACHIMO. Your daughter's chastity- there it begins. + He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams + And she alone were cold; whereat I, wretch, + Made scruple of his praise, and wager'd with him + Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore + Upon his honour'd finger, to attain + In suit the place of's bed, and win this ring + By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, + No lesser of her honour confident + Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; + And would so, had it been a carbuncle + Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it + Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain + Post I in this design. Well may you, sir, + Remember me at court, where I was taught + Of your chaste daughter the wide difference + 'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'd + Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain + Gan in your duller Britain operate + Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent; + And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd + That I return'd with simular proof enough + To make the noble Leonatus mad, + By wounding his belief in her renown + With tokens thus and thus; averring notes + Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet- + O cunning, how I got it!- nay, some marks + Of secret on her person, that he could not + But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, + I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon- + Methinks I see him now- + POSTHUMUS. [Coming forward] Ay, so thou dost, + Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, + Egregious murderer, thief, anything + That's due to all the villains past, in being, + To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, + Some upright justicer! Thou, King, send out + For torturers ingenious. It is I + That all th' abhorred things o' th' earth amend + By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, + That kill'd thy daughter; villain-like, I lie- + That caus'd a lesser villain than myself, + A sacrilegious thief, to do't. The temple + Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. + Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set + The dogs o' th' street to bay me. Every villain + Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus, and + Be villainy less than 'twas! O Imogen! + My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, + Imogen, Imogen! + IMOGEN. Peace, my lord. Hear, hear! + POSTHUMUS. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, + There lies thy part. [Strikes her. She falls] + PISANIO. O gentlemen, help! + Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus! + You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now. Help, help! + Mine honour'd lady! + CYMBELINE. Does the world go round? + POSTHUMUS. How comes these staggers on me? + PISANIO. Wake, my mistress! + CYMBELINE. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me + To death with mortal joy. + PISANIO. How fares my mistress? + IMOGEN. O, get thee from my sight; + Thou gav'st me poison. Dangerous fellow, hence! + Breathe not where princes are. + CYMBELINE. The tune of Imogen! + PISANIO. Lady, + The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if + That box I gave you was not thought by me + A precious thing! I had it from the Queen. + CYMBELINE. New matter still? + IMOGEN. It poison'd me. + CORNELIUS. O gods! + I left out one thing which the Queen confess'd, + Which must approve thee honest. 'If Pisanio + Have' said she 'given his mistress that confection + Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd + As I would serve a rat.' + CYMBELINE. What's this, Cornelius? + CORNELIUS. The Queen, sir, very oft importun'd me + To temper poisons for her; still pretending + The satisfaction of her knowledge only + In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, + Of no esteem. I, dreading that her purpose + Was of more danger, did compound for her + A certain stuff, which, being ta'en would cease + The present pow'r of life, but in short time + All offices of nature should again + Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it? + IMOGEN. Most like I did, for I was dead. + BELARIUS. My boys, + There was our error. + GUIDERIUS. This is sure Fidele. + IMOGEN. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? + Think that you are upon a rock, and now + Throw me again. [Embracing him] + POSTHUMUS. Hang there like fruit, my soul, + Till the tree die! + CYMBELINE. How now, my flesh? my child? + What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act? + Wilt thou not speak to me? + IMOGEN. [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir. + BELARIUS. [To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS] Though you did love this + youth, I blame ye not; + You had a motive for't. + CYMBELINE. My tears that fall + Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, + Thy mother's dead. + IMOGEN. I am sorry for't, my lord. + CYMBELINE. O, she was naught, and long of her it was + That we meet here so strangely; but her son + Is gone, we know not how nor where. + PISANIO. My lord, + Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, + Upon my lady's missing, came to me + With his sword drawn, foam'd at the mouth, and swore, + If I discover'd not which way she was gone, + It was my instant death. By accident + I had a feigned letter of my master's + Then in my pocket, which directed him + To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; + Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, + Which he enforc'd from me, away he posts + With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate + My lady's honour. What became of him + I further know not. + GUIDERIUS. Let me end the story: + I slew him there. + CYMBELINE. Marry, the gods forfend! + I would not thy good deeds should from my lips + Pluck a hard sentence. Prithee, valiant youth, + Deny't again. + GUIDERIUS. I have spoke it, and I did it. + CYMBELINE. He was a prince. + GUIDERIUS. A most incivil one. The wrongs he did me + Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me + With language that would make me spurn the sea, + If it could so roar to me. I cut off's head, + And am right glad he is not standing here + To tell this tale of mine. + CYMBELINE. I am sorry for thee. + By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must + Endure our law. Thou'rt dead. + IMOGEN. That headless man + I thought had been my lord. + CYMBELINE. Bind the offender, + And take him from our presence. + BELARIUS. Stay, sir King. + This man is better than the man he slew, + As well descended as thyself, and hath + More of thee merited than a band of Clotens + Had ever scar for. [To the guard] Let his arms alone; + They were not born for bondage. + CYMBELINE. Why, old soldier, + Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for + By tasting of our wrath? How of descent + As good as we? + ARVIRAGUS. In that he spake too far. + CYMBELINE. And thou shalt die for't. + BELARIUS. We will die all three; + But I will prove that two on's are as good + As I have given out him. My sons, I must + For mine own part unfold a dangerous speech, + Though haply well for you. + ARVIRAGUS. Your danger's ours. + GUIDERIUS. And our good his. + BELARIUS. Have at it then by leave! + Thou hadst, great King, a subject who + Was call'd Belarius. + CYMBELINE. What of him? He is + A banish'd traitor. + BELARIUS. He it is that hath + Assum'd this age; indeed a banish'd man; + I know not how a traitor. + CYMBELINE. Take him hence, + The whole world shall not save him. + BELARIUS. Not too hot. + First pay me for the nursing of thy sons, + And let it be confiscate all, so soon + As I have receiv'd it. + CYMBELINE. Nursing of my sons? + BELARIUS. I am too blunt and saucy: here's my knee. + Ere I arise I will prefer my sons; + Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, + These two young gentlemen that call me father, + And think they are my sons, are none of mine; + They are the issue of your loins, my liege, + And blood of your begetting. + CYMBELINE. How? my issue? + BELARIUS. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, + Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd. + Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment + Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd + Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes- + For such and so they are- these twenty years + Have I train'd up; those arts they have as + Could put into them. My breeding was, sir, as + Your Highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, + Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children + Upon my banishment; I mov'd her to't, + Having receiv'd the punishment before + For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty + Excited me to treason. Their dear loss, + The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd + Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, + Here are your sons again, and I must lose + Two of the sweet'st companions in the world. + The benediction of these covering heavens + Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy + To inlay heaven with stars. + CYMBELINE. Thou weep'st and speak'st. + The service that you three have done is more + Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children. + If these be they, I know not how to wish + A pair of worthier sons. + BELARIUS. Be pleas'd awhile. + This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, + Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius; + This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, + Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd + In a most curious mantle, wrought by th' hand + Of his queen mother, which for more probation + I can with ease produce. + CYMBELINE. Guiderius had + Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; + It was a mark of wonder. + BELARIUS. This is he, + Who hath upon him still that natural stamp. + It was wise nature's end in the donation, + To be his evidence now. + CYMBELINE. O, what am I? + A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother + Rejoic'd deliverance more. Blest pray you be, + That, after this strange starting from your orbs, + You may reign in them now! O Imogen, + Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. + IMOGEN. No, my lord; + I have got two worlds by't. O my gentle brothers, + Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter + But I am truest speaker! You call'd me brother, + When I was but your sister: I you brothers, + When we were so indeed. + CYMBELINE. Did you e'er meet? + ARVIRAGUS. Ay, my good lord. + GUIDERIUS. And at first meeting lov'd, + Continu'd so until we thought he died. + CORNELIUS. By the Queen's dram she swallow'd. + CYMBELINE. O rare instinct! + When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgment + Hath to it circumstantial branches, which + Distinction should be rich in. Where? how liv'd you? + And when came you to serve our Roman captive? + How parted with your brothers? how first met them? + Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, + And your three motives to the battle, with + I know not how much more, should be demanded, + And all the other by-dependences, + From chance to chance; but nor the time nor place + Will serve our long interrogatories. See, + Posthumus anchors upon Imogen; + And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye + On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting + Each object with a joy; the counterchange + Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground, + And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. + [To BELARIUS] Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever. + IMOGEN. You are my father too, and did relieve me + To see this gracious season. + CYMBELINE. All o'erjoy'd + Save these in bonds. Let them be joyful too, + For they shall taste our comfort. + IMOGEN. My good master, + I will yet do you service. + LUCIUS. Happy be you! + CYMBELINE. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, + He would have well becom'd this place and grac'd + The thankings of a king. + POSTHUMUS. I am, sir, + The soldier that did company these three + In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for + The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he, + Speak, Iachimo. I had you down, and might + Have made you finish. + IACHIMO. [Kneeling] I am down again; + But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, + As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, + Which I so often owe; but your ring first, + And here the bracelet of the truest princess + That ever swore her faith. + POSTHUMUS. Kneel not to me. + The pow'r that I have on you is to spare you; + The malice towards you to forgive you. Live, + And deal with others better. + CYMBELINE. Nobly doom'd! + We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; + Pardon's the word to all. + ARVIRAGUS. You holp us, sir, + As you did mean indeed to be our brother; + Joy'd are we that you are. + POSTHUMUS. Your servant, Princes. Good my lord of Rome, + Call forth your soothsayer. As I slept, methought + Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd, + Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows + Of mine own kindred. When I wak'd, I found + This label on my bosom; whose containing + Is so from sense in hardness that I can + Make no collection of it. Let him show + His skill in the construction. + LUCIUS. Philarmonus! + SOOTHSAYER. Here, my good lord. + LUCIUS. Read, and declare the meaning. + SOOTHSAYER. [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself + unknown, without seeking find, and be embrac'd by + a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall + be lopp'd branches which, being dead many years, shall + after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; + then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate + and flourish in peace and plenty.' + Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; + The fit and apt construction of thy name, + Being Leo-natus, doth import so much. + [To CYMBELINE] The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, + Which we call 'mollis aer,' and 'mollis aer' + We term it 'mulier'; which 'mulier' I divine + Is this most constant wife, who even now + Answering the letter of the oracle, + Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about + With this most tender air. + CYMBELINE. This hath some seeming. + SOOTHSAYER. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, + Personates thee; and thy lopp'd branches point + Thy two sons forth, who, by Belarius stol'n, + For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, + To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue + Promises Britain peace and plenty. + CYMBELINE. Well, + My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, + Although the victor, we submit to Caesar + And to the Roman empire, promising + To pay our wonted tribute, from the which + We were dissuaded by our wicked queen, + Whom heavens in justice, both on her and hers, + Have laid most heavy hand. + SOOTHSAYER. The fingers of the pow'rs above do tune + The harmony of this peace. The vision + Which I made known to Lucius ere the stroke + Of yet this scarce-cold battle, at this instant + Is full accomplish'd; for the Roman eagle, + From south to west on wing soaring aloft, + Lessen'd herself and in the beams o' th' sun + So vanish'd; which foreshow'd our princely eagle, + Th'imperial Caesar, Caesar, should again unite + His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, + Which shines here in the west. + CYMBELINE. Laud we the gods; + And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils + From our bless'd altars. Publish we this peace + To all our subjects. Set we forward; let + A Roman and a British ensign wave + Friendly together. So through Lud's Town march; + And in the temple of great Jupiter + Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts. + Set on there! Never was a war did cease, + Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace. Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1604 + + +THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK + + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + Claudius, King of Denmark. + Marcellus, Officer. + Hamlet, son to the former, and nephew to the present king. + Polonius, Lord Chamberlain. + Horatio, friend to Hamlet. + Laertes, son to Polonius. + Voltemand, courtier. + Cornelius, courtier. + Rosencrantz, courtier. + Guildenstern, courtier. + Osric, courtier. + A Gentleman, courtier. + A Priest. + Marcellus, officer. + Bernardo, officer. + Francisco, a soldier + Reynaldo, servant to Polonius. + Players. + Two Clowns, gravediggers. + Fortinbras, Prince of Norway. + A Norwegian Captain. + English Ambassadors. + + Getrude, Queen of Denmark, mother to Hamlet. + Ophelia, daughter to Polonius. + + Ghost of Hamlet's Father. + + Lords, ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, Attendants. + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE.- Elsinore. + + +ACT I. Scene I. +Elsinore. A platform before the Castle. + +Enter two Sentinels-[first,] Francisco, [who paces up and down +at his post; then] Bernardo, [who approaches him]. + + Ber. Who's there.? + Fran. Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself. + Ber. Long live the King! + Fran. Bernardo? + Ber. He. + Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. + Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco. + Fran. For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, + And I am sick at heart. + Ber. Have you had quiet guard? + Fran. Not a mouse stirring. + Ber. Well, good night. + If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, + The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. + + Enter Horatio and Marcellus. + + Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there? + Hor. Friends to this ground. + Mar. And liegemen to the Dane. + Fran. Give you good night. + Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier. + Who hath reliev'd you? + Fran. Bernardo hath my place. + Give you good night. Exit. + Mar. Holla, Bernardo! + Ber. Say- + What, is Horatio there ? + Hor. A piece of him. + Ber. Welcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus. + Mar. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night? + Ber. I have seen nothing. + Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, + And will not let belief take hold of him + Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us. + Therefore I have entreated him along, + With us to watch the minutes of this night, + That, if again this apparition come, + He may approve our eyes and speak to it. + Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appear. + Ber. Sit down awhile, + And let us once again assail your ears, + That are so fortified against our story, + What we two nights have seen. + Hor. Well, sit we down, + And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. + Ber. Last night of all, + When yond same star that's westward from the pole + Had made his course t' illume that part of heaven + Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, + The bell then beating one- + + Enter Ghost. + + Mar. Peace! break thee off! Look where it comes again! + Ber. In the same figure, like the King that's dead. + Mar. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio. + Ber. Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio. + Hor. Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder. + Ber. It would be spoke to. + Mar. Question it, Horatio. + Hor. What art thou that usurp'st this time of night + Together with that fair and warlike form + In which the majesty of buried Denmark + Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee speak! + Mar. It is offended. + Ber. See, it stalks away! + Hor. Stay! Speak, speak! I charge thee speak! + Exit Ghost. + Mar. 'Tis gone and will not answer. + Ber. How now, Horatio? You tremble and look pale. + Is not this something more than fantasy? + What think you on't? + Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe + Without the sensible and true avouch + Of mine own eyes. + Mar. Is it not like the King? + Hor. As thou art to thyself. + Such was the very armour he had on + When he th' ambitious Norway combated. + So frown'd he once when, in an angry parle, + He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. + 'Tis strange. + Mar. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, + With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. + Hor. In what particular thought to work I know not; + But, in the gross and scope of my opinion, + This bodes some strange eruption to our state. + Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me he that knows, + Why this same strict and most observant watch + So nightly toils the subject of the land, + And why such daily cast of brazen cannon + And foreign mart for implements of war; + Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task + Does not divide the Sunday from the week. + What might be toward, that this sweaty haste + Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day? + Who is't that can inform me? + Hor. That can I. + At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, + Whose image even but now appear'd to us, + Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, + Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, + Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet + (For so this side of our known world esteem'd him) + Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact, + Well ratified by law and heraldry, + Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands + Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror; + Against the which a moiety competent + Was gaged by our king; which had return'd + To the inheritance of Fortinbras, + Had he been vanquisher, as, by the same comart + And carriage of the article design'd, + His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, + Of unimproved mettle hot and full, + Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, + Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes, + For food and diet, to some enterprise + That hath a stomach in't; which is no other, + As it doth well appear unto our state, + But to recover of us, by strong hand + And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands + So by his father lost; and this, I take it, + Is the main motive of our preparations, + The source of this our watch, and the chief head + Of this post-haste and romage in the land. + Ber. I think it be no other but e'en so. + Well may it sort that this portentous figure + Comes armed through our watch, so like the King + That was and is the question of these wars. + Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. + In the most high and palmy state of Rome, + A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, + The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead + Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets; + As stars with trains of fire, and dews of blood, + Disasters in the sun; and the moist star + Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands + Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. + And even the like precurse of fierce events, + As harbingers preceding still the fates + And prologue to the omen coming on, + Have heaven and earth together demonstrated + Unto our climature and countrymen. + + Enter Ghost again. + + But soft! behold! Lo, where it comes again! + I'll cross it, though it blast me.- Stay illusion! + Spreads his arms. + If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, + Speak to me. + If there be any good thing to be done, + That may to thee do ease, and, race to me, + Speak to me. + If thou art privy to thy country's fate, + Which happily foreknowing may avoid, + O, speak! + Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life + Extorted treasure in the womb of earth + (For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death), + The cock crows. + Speak of it! Stay, and speak!- Stop it, Marcellus! + Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan? + Hor. Do, if it will not stand. + Ber. 'Tis here! + Hor. 'Tis here! + Mar. 'Tis gone! + Exit Ghost. + We do it wrong, being so majestical, + To offer it the show of violence; + For it is as the air, invulnerable, + And our vain blows malicious mockery. + Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew. + Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing + Upon a fearful summons. I have heard + The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, + Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat + Awake the god of day; and at his warning, + Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, + Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies + To his confine; and of the truth herein + This present object made probation. + Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock. + Some say that ever, 'gainst that season comes + Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, + The bird of dawning singeth all night long; + And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad, + The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, + No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, + So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. + Hor. So have I heard and do in part believe it. + But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, + Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill. + Break we our watch up; and by my advice + Let us impart what we have seen to-night + Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, + This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. + Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, + As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? + Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know + Where we shall find him most conveniently. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle. + +Flourish. [Enter Claudius, King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen, Hamlet, +Polonius, Laertes and his sister Ophelia, [Voltemand, Cornelius,] +Lords Attendant. + + King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death + The memory be green, and that it us befitted + To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom + To be contracted in one brow of woe, + Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature + That we with wisest sorrow think on him + Together with remembrance of ourselves. + Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, + Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state, + Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy, + With an auspicious, and a dropping eye, + With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, + In equal scale weighing delight and dole, + Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr'd + Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone + With this affair along. For all, our thanks. + Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, + Holding a weak supposal of our worth, + Or thinking by our late dear brother's death + Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, + Colleagued with this dream of his advantage, + He hath not fail'd to pester us with message + Importing the surrender of those lands + Lost by his father, with all bands of law, + To our most valiant brother. So much for him. + Now for ourself and for this time of meeting. + Thus much the business is: we have here writ + To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, + Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears + Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress + His further gait herein, in that the levies, + The lists, and full proportions are all made + Out of his subject; and we here dispatch + You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand, + For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, + Giving to you no further personal power + To business with the King, more than the scope + Of these dilated articles allow. [Gives a paper.] + Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. + Cor., Volt. In that, and all things, will we show our duty. + King. We doubt it nothing. Heartily farewell. + Exeunt Voltemand and Cornelius. + And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? + You told us of some suit. What is't, Laertes? + You cannot speak of reason to the Dane + And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes, + That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? + The head is not more native to the heart, + The hand more instrumental to the mouth, + Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. + What wouldst thou have, Laertes? + Laer. My dread lord, + Your leave and favour to return to France; + From whence though willingly I came to Denmark + To show my duty in your coronation, + Yet now I must confess, that duty done, + My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France + And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. + King. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? + Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave + By laboursome petition, and at last + Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent. + I do beseech you give him leave to go. + King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine, + And thy best graces spend it at thy will! + But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son- + Ham. [aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind! + King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you? + Ham. Not so, my lord. I am too much i' th' sun. + Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, + And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. + Do not for ever with thy vailed lids + Seek for thy noble father in the dust. + Thou know'st 'tis common. All that lives must die, + Passing through nature to eternity. + Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. + Queen. If it be, + Why seems it so particular with thee? + Ham. Seems, madam, Nay, it is. I know not 'seems.' + 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, + Nor customary suits of solemn black, + Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, + No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, + Nor the dejected havior of the visage, + Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, + 'That can denote me truly. These indeed seem, + For they are actions that a man might play; + But I have that within which passeth show- + These but the trappings and the suits of woe. + King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, + To give these mourning duties to your father; + But you must know, your father lost a father; + That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound + In filial obligation for some term + To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever + In obstinate condolement is a course + Of impious stubbornness. 'Tis unmanly grief; + It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, + A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, + An understanding simple and unschool'd; + For what we know must be, and is as common + As any the most vulgar thing to sense, + Why should we in our peevish opposition + Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven, + A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, + To reason most absurd, whose common theme + Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, + From the first corse till he that died to-day, + 'This must be so.' We pray you throw to earth + This unprevailing woe, and think of us + As of a father; for let the world take note + You are the most immediate to our throne, + And with no less nobility of love + Than that which dearest father bears his son + Do I impart toward you. For your intent + In going back to school in Wittenberg, + It is most retrograde to our desire; + And we beseech you, bend you to remain + Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye, + Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. + Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet. + I pray thee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. + Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam. + King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply. + Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come. + This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet + Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof, + No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day + But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, + And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again, + Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away. + Flourish. Exeunt all but Hamlet. + Ham. O that this too too solid flesh would melt, + Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! + Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd + His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! + How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable + Seem to me all the uses of this world! + Fie on't! ah, fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden + That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature + Possess it merely. That it should come to this! + But two months dead! Nay, not so much, not two. + So excellent a king, that was to this + Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother + That he might not beteem the winds of heaven + Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! + Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him + As if increase of appetite had grown + By what it fed on; and yet, within a month- + Let me not think on't! Frailty, thy name is woman!- + A little month, or ere those shoes were old + With which she followed my poor father's body + Like Niobe, all tears- why she, even she + (O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason + Would have mourn'd longer) married with my uncle; + My father's brother, but no more like my father + Than I to Hercules. Within a month, + Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears + Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, + She married. O, most wicked speed, to post + With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! + It is not, nor it cannot come to good. + But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue! + + Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo. + + Hor. Hail to your lordship! + Ham. I am glad to see you well. + Horatio!- or I do forget myself. + Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. + Ham. Sir, my good friend- I'll change that name with you. + And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? + Marcellus? + Mar. My good lord! + Ham. I am very glad to see you.- [To Bernardo] Good even, sir.- + But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? + Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. + Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so, + Nor shall you do my ear that violence + To make it truster of your own report + Against yourself. I know you are no truant. + But what is your affair in Elsinore? + We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. + Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. + Ham. I prithee do not mock me, fellow student. + I think it was to see my mother's wedding. + Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. + Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats + Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. + Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven + Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! + My father- methinks I see my father. + Hor. O, where, my lord? + Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. + Hor. I saw him once. He was a goodly king. + Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all. + I shall not look upon his like again. + Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. + Ham. Saw? who? + Hor. My lord, the King your father. + Ham. The King my father? + Hor. Season your admiration for a while + With an attent ear, till I may deliver + Upon the witness of these gentlemen, + This marvel to you. + Ham. For God's love let me hear! + Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen + (Marcellus and Bernardo) on their watch + In the dead vast and middle of the night + Been thus encount'red. A figure like your father, + Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, + Appears before them and with solemn march + Goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he walk'd + By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, + Within his truncheon's length; whilst they distill'd + Almost to jelly with the act of fear, + Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me + In dreadful secrecy impart they did, + And I with them the third night kept the watch; + Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, + Form of the thing, each word made true and good, + The apparition comes. I knew your father. + These hands are not more like. + Ham. But where was this? + Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. + Ham. Did you not speak to it? + Hor. My lord, I did; + But answer made it none. Yet once methought + It lifted up it head and did address + Itself to motion, like as it would speak; + But even then the morning cock crew loud, + And at the sound it shrunk in haste away + And vanish'd from our sight. + Ham. 'Tis very strange. + Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; + And we did think it writ down in our duty + To let you know of it. + Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs. But this troubles me. + Hold you the watch to-night? + Both [Mar. and Ber.] We do, my lord. + Ham. Arm'd, say you? + Both. Arm'd, my lord. + Ham. From top to toe? + Both. My lord, from head to foot. + Ham. Then saw you not his face? + Hor. O, yes, my lord! He wore his beaver up. + Ham. What, look'd he frowningly. + Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. + Ham. Pale or red? + Hor. Nay, very pale. + Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you? + Hor. Most constantly. + Ham. I would I had been there. + Hor. It would have much amaz'd you. + Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? + Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. + Both. Longer, longer. + Hor. Not when I saw't. + Ham. His beard was grizzled- no? + Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, + A sable silver'd. + Ham. I will watch to-night. + Perchance 'twill walk again. + Hor. I warr'nt it will. + Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, + I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape + And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, + If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, + Let it be tenable in your silence still; + And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, + Give it an understanding but no tongue. + I will requite your loves. So, fare you well. + Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, + I'll visit you. + All. Our duty to your honour. + Ham. Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell. + Exeunt [all but Hamlet]. + My father's spirit- in arms? All is not well. + I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come! + Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise, + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. +Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius. + +Enter Laertes and Ophelia. + + Laer. My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell. + And, sister, as the winds give benefit + And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, + But let me hear from you. + Oph. Do you doubt that? + Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, + Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; + A violet in the youth of primy nature, + Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting; + The perfume and suppliance of a minute; + No more. + Oph. No more but so? + Laer. Think it no more. + For nature crescent does not grow alone + In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes, + The inward service of the mind and soul + Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, + And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch + The virtue of his will; but you must fear, + His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; + For he himself is subject to his birth. + He may not, as unvalued persons do, + Carve for himself, for on his choice depends + The safety and health of this whole state, + And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd + Unto the voice and yielding of that body + Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, + It fits your wisdom so far to believe it + As he in his particular act and place + May give his saying deed; which is no further + Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. + Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain + If with too credent ear you list his songs, + Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open + To his unmast'red importunity. + Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, + And keep you in the rear of your affection, + Out of the shot and danger of desire. + The chariest maid is prodigal enough + If she unmask her beauty to the moon. + Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes. + The canker galls the infants of the spring + Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd, + And in the morn and liquid dew of youth + Contagious blastments are most imminent. + Be wary then; best safety lies in fear. + Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. + Oph. I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep + As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, + Do not as some ungracious pastors do, + Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, + Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, + Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads + And recks not his own rede. + Laer. O, fear me not! + + Enter Polonius. + + I stay too long. But here my father comes. + A double blessing is a double grace; + Occasion smiles upon a second leave. + Pol. Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame! + The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, + And you are stay'd for. There- my blessing with thee! + And these few precepts in thy memory + Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar: + Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, + Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; + For the apparel oft proclaims the man, + And they in France of the best rank and station + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + Neither a borrower nor a lender be; + For loan oft loses both itself and friend, + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all- to thine own self be true, + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + Farewell. My blessing season this in thee! + Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. + Pol. The time invites you. Go, your servants tend. + Laer. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well + What I have said to you. + Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd, + And you yourself shall keep the key of it. + Laer. Farewell. Exit. + Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you? + Oph. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. + Pol. Marry, well bethought! + 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late + Given private time to you, and you yourself + Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. + If it be so- as so 'tis put on me, + And that in way of caution- I must tell you + You do not understand yourself so clearly + As it behooves my daughter and your honour. + What is between you? Give me up the truth. + Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders + Of his affection to me. + Pol. Affection? Pooh! You speak like a green girl, + Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. + Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? + Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think, + Pol. Marry, I will teach you! Think yourself a baby + That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, + Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly, + Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, + Running it thus) you'll tender me a fool. + Oph. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love + In honourable fashion. + Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it. Go to, go to! + Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, + With almost all the holy vows of heaven. + Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks! I do know, + When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul + Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, daughter, + Giving more light than heat, extinct in both + Even in their promise, as it is a-making, + You must not take for fire. From this time + Be something scanter of your maiden presence. + Set your entreatments at a higher rate + Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, + Believe so much in him, that he is young, + And with a larger tether may he walk + Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia, + Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, + Not of that dye which their investments show, + But mere implorators of unholy suits, + Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, + The better to beguile. This is for all: + I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth + Have you so slander any moment leisure + As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. + Look to't, I charge you. Come your ways. + Oph. I shall obey, my lord. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +Elsinore. The platform before the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus. + + Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. + Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air. + Ham. What hour now? + Hor. I think it lacks of twelve. + Mar. No, it is struck. + Hor. Indeed? I heard it not. It then draws near the season + Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. + A flourish of trumpets, and two pieces go off. + What does this mean, my lord? + Ham. The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, + Keeps wassail, and the swagg'ring upspring reels, + And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, + The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out + The triumph of his pledge. + Hor. Is it a custom? + Ham. Ay, marry, is't; + But to my mind, though I am native here + And to the manner born, it is a custom + More honour'd in the breach than the observance. + This heavy-headed revel east and west + Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations; + They clip us drunkards and with swinish phrase + Soil our addition; and indeed it takes + From our achievements, though perform'd at height, + The pith and marrow of our attribute. + So oft it chances in particular men + That, for some vicious mole of nature in them, + As in their birth,- wherein they are not guilty, + Since nature cannot choose his origin,- + By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, + Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, + Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens + The form of plausive manners, that these men + Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, + Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, + Their virtues else- be they as pure as grace, + As infinite as man may undergo- + Shall in the general censure take corruption + From that particular fault. The dram of e'il + Doth all the noble substance often dout To his own scandal. + + Enter Ghost. + + Hor. Look, my lord, it comes! + Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us! + Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, + Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, + Be thy intents wicked or charitable, + Thou com'st in such a questionable shape + That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet, + King, father, royal Dane. O, answer me? + Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell + Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, + Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre + Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, + Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws + To cast thee up again. What may this mean + That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, + Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon, + Making night hideous, and we fools of nature + So horridly to shake our disposition + With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? + Say, why is this? wherefore? What should we do? + Ghost beckons Hamlet. + Hor. It beckons you to go away with it, + As if it some impartment did desire + To you alone. + Mar. Look with what courteous action + It waves you to a more removed ground. + But do not go with it! + Hor. No, by no means! + Ham. It will not speak. Then will I follow it. + Hor. Do not, my lord! + Ham. Why, what should be the fear? + I do not set my life at a pin's fee; + And for my soul, what can it do to that, + Being a thing immortal as itself? + It waves me forth again. I'll follow it. + Hor. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, + Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff + That beetles o'er his base into the sea, + And there assume some other, horrible form + Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason + And draw you into madness? Think of it. + The very place puts toys of desperation, + Without more motive, into every brain + That looks so many fadoms to the sea + And hears it roar beneath. + Ham. It waves me still. + Go on. I'll follow thee. + Mar. You shall not go, my lord. + Ham. Hold off your hands! + Hor. Be rul'd. You shall not go. + Ham. My fate cries out + And makes each petty artire in this body + As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. + [Ghost beckons.] + Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen. + By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!- + I say, away!- Go on. I'll follow thee. + Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet. + Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination. + Mar. Let's follow. 'Tis not fit thus to obey him. + Hor. Have after. To what issue wail this come? + Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. + Hor. Heaven will direct it. + Mar. Nay, let's follow him. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene V. +Elsinore. The Castle. Another part of the fortifications. + +Enter Ghost and Hamlet. + + Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak! I'll go no further. + Ghost. Mark me. + Ham. I will. + Ghost. My hour is almost come, + When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames + Must render up myself. + Ham. Alas, poor ghost! + Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing + To what I shall unfold. + Ham. Speak. I am bound to hear. + Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. + Ham. What? + Ghost. I am thy father's spirit, + Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, + And for the day confin'd to fast in fires, + Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature + Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid + To tell the secrets of my prison house, + I could a tale unfold whose lightest word + Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, + Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, + Thy knotted and combined locks to part, + And each particular hair to stand an end + Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. + But this eternal blazon must not be + To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! + If thou didst ever thy dear father love- + Ham. O God! + Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther. + Ham. Murther? + Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is; + But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. + Ham. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift + As meditation or the thoughts of love, + May sweep to my revenge. + Ghost. I find thee apt; + And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed + That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, + Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear. + 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, + A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark + Is by a forged process of my death + Rankly abus'd. But know, thou noble youth, + The serpent that did sting thy father's life + Now wears his crown. + Ham. O my prophetic soul! + My uncle? + Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, + With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts- + O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power + So to seduce!- won to his shameful lust + The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen. + O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there, + From me, whose love was of that dignity + That it went hand in hand even with the vow + I made to her in marriage, and to decline + Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor + To those of mine! + But virtue, as it never will be mov'd, + Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, + So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, + Will sate itself in a celestial bed + And prey on garbage. + But soft! methinks I scent the morning air. + Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, + My custom always of the afternoon, + Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, + With juice of cursed hebona in a vial, + And in the porches of my ears did pour + The leperous distilment; whose effect + Holds such an enmity with blood of man + That swift as quicksilverr it courses through + The natural gates and alleys of the body, + And with a sudden vigour it doth posset + And curd, like eager droppings into milk, + The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine; + And a most instant tetter bark'd about, + Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust + All my smooth body. + Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand + Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd; + Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, + Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd, + No reckoning made, but sent to my account + With all my imperfections on my head. + Ham. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible! + Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not. + Let not the royal bed of Denmark be + A couch for luxury and damned incest. + But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, + Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive + Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven, + And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge + To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once. + The glowworm shows the matin to be near + And gins to pale his uneffectual fire. + Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. Exit. + Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? + And shall I couple hell? Hold, hold, my heart! + And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, + But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee? + Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat + In this distracted globe. Remember thee? + Yea, from the table of my memory + I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, + All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past + That youth and observation copied there, + And thy commandment all alone shall live + Within the book and volume of my brain, + Unmix'd with baser matter. Yes, by heaven! + O most pernicious woman! + O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! + My tables! Meet it is I set it down + That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; + At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. [Writes.] + So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word: + It is 'Adieu, adieu! Remember me.' + I have sworn't. + Hor. (within) My lord, my lord! + + Enter Horatio and Marcellus. + + Mar. Lord Hamlet! + Hor. Heaven secure him! + Ham. So be it! + Mar. Illo, ho, ho, my lord! + Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come. + Mar. How is't, my noble lord? + Hor. What news, my lord? + Mar. O, wonderful! + Hor. Good my lord, tell it. + Ham. No, you will reveal it. + Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven! + Mar. Nor I, my lord. + Ham. How say you then? Would heart of man once think it? + But you'll be secret? + Both. Ay, by heaven, my lord. + Ham. There's neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark + But he's an arrant knave. + Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave + To tell us this. + Ham. Why, right! You are in the right! + And so, without more circumstance at all, + I hold it fit that we shake hands and part; + You, as your business and desires shall point you, + For every man hath business and desire, + Such as it is; and for my own poor part, + Look you, I'll go pray. + Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. + Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily; + Yes, faith, heartily. + Hor. There's no offence, my lord. + Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, + And much offence too. Touching this vision here, + It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you. + For your desire to know what is between us, + O'ermaster't as you may. And now, good friends, + As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, + Give me one poor request. + Hor. What is't, my lord? We will. + Ham. Never make known what you have seen to-night. + Both. My lord, we will not. + Ham. Nay, but swear't. + Hor. In faith, + My lord, not I. + Mar. Nor I, my lord- in faith. + Ham. Upon my sword. + Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already. + Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. + + Ghost cries under the stage. + + Ghost. Swear. + Ham. Aha boy, say'st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny? + Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage. + Consent to swear. + Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. + Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen. + Swear by my sword. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear. + Ham. Hic et ubique? Then we'll shift our ground. + Come hither, gentlemen, + And lay your hands again upon my sword. + Never to speak of this that you have heard: + Swear by my sword. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear by his sword. + Ham. Well said, old mole! Canst work i' th' earth so fast? + A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends." + Hor. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! + Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. + There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, + Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. + But come! + Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, + How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself + (As I perchance hereafter shall think meet + To put an antic disposition on), + That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, + With arms encumb'red thus, or this head-shake, + Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, + As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,' + Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,' + Or such ambiguous giving out, to note + That you know aught of me- this is not to do, + So grace and mercy at your most need help you, + Swear. + Ghost. [beneath] Swear. + [They swear.] + Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen, + With all my love I do commend me to you; + And what so poor a man as Hamlet is + May do t' express his love and friending to you, + God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; + And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. + The time is out of joint. O cursed spite + That ever I was born to set it right! + Nay, come, let's go together. + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +Act II. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius. + +Enter Polonius and Reynaldo. + + Pol. Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo. + Rey. I will, my lord. + Pol. You shall do marvell's wisely, good Reynaldo, + Before You visit him, to make inquire + Of his behaviour. + Rey. My lord, I did intend it. + Pol. Marry, well said, very well said. Look you, sir, + Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; + And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, + What company, at what expense; and finding + By this encompassment and drift of question + That they do know my son, come you more nearer + Than your particular demands will touch it. + Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him; + As thus, 'I know his father and his friends, + And in part him.' Do you mark this, Reynaldo? + Rey. Ay, very well, my lord. + Pol. 'And in part him, but,' you may say, 'not well. + But if't be he I mean, he's very wild + Addicted so and so'; and there put on him + What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank + As may dishonour him- take heed of that; + But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips + As are companions noted and most known + To youth and liberty. + Rey. As gaming, my lord. + Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, + Drabbing. You may go so far. + Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him. + Pol. Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge. + You must not put another scandal on him, + That he is open to incontinency. + That's not my meaning. But breathe his faults so quaintly + That they may seem the taints of liberty, + The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, + A savageness in unreclaimed blood, + Of general assault. + Rey. But, my good lord- + Pol. Wherefore should you do this? + Rey. Ay, my lord, + I would know that. + Pol. Marry, sir, here's my drift, + And I believe it is a fetch of warrant. + You laying these slight sullies on my son + As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' th' working, + Mark you, + Your party in converse, him you would sound, + Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes + The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur'd + He closes with you in this consequence: + 'Good sir,' or so, or 'friend,' or 'gentleman'- + According to the phrase or the addition + Of man and country- + Rey. Very good, my lord. + Pol. And then, sir, does 'a this- 'a does- What was I about to say? + By the mass, I was about to say something! Where did I leave? + Rey. At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,' and + gentleman.' + Pol. At 'closes in the consequence'- Ay, marry! + He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman. + I saw him yesterday, or t'other day, + Or then, or then, with such or such; and, as you say, + There was 'a gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse; + There falling out at tennis'; or perchance, + 'I saw him enter such a house of sale,' + Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth. + See you now- + Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth; + And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, + With windlasses and with assays of bias, + By indirections find directions out. + So, by my former lecture and advice, + Shall you my son. You have me, have you not + Rey. My lord, I have. + Pol. God b' wi' ye, fare ye well! + Rey. Good my lord! [Going.] + Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself. + Rey. I shall, my lord. + Pol. And let him ply his music. + Rey. Well, my lord. + Pol. Farewell! + Exit Reynaldo. + + Enter Ophelia. + + How now, Ophelia? What's the matter? + Oph. O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! + Pol. With what, i' th' name of God I + Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, + Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd, + No hat upon his head, his stockings foul'd, + Ungart'red, and down-gyved to his ankle; + Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, + And with a look so piteous in purport + As if he had been loosed out of hell + To speak of horrors- he comes before me. + Pol. Mad for thy love? + Oph. My lord, I do not know, + But truly I do fear it. + Pol. What said he? + Oph. He took me by the wrist and held me hard; + Then goes he to the length of all his arm, + And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, + He falls to such perusal of my face + As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so. + At last, a little shaking of mine arm, + And thrice his head thus waving up and down, + He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound + As it did seem to shatter all his bulk + And end his being. That done, he lets me go, + And with his head over his shoulder turn'd + He seem'd to find his way without his eyes, + For out o' doors he went without their help + And to the last bended their light on me. + Pol. Come, go with me. I will go seek the King. + This is the very ecstasy of love, + Whose violent property fordoes itself + And leads the will to desperate undertakings + As oft as any passion under heaven + That does afflict our natures. I am sorry. + What, have you given him any hard words of late? + Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did command, + I did repel his letters and denied + His access to me. + Pol. That hath made him mad. + I am sorry that with better heed and judgment + I had not quoted him. I fear'd he did but trifle + And meant to wrack thee; but beshrew my jealousy! + By heaven, it is as proper to our age + To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions + As it is common for the younger sort + To lack discretion. Come, go we to the King. + This must be known; which, being kept close, might move + More grief to hide than hate to utter love. + Come. + Exeunt. + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Flourish. [Enter King and Queen, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, cum aliis. + + King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + Moreover that we much did long to see you, + The need we have to use you did provoke + Our hasty sending. Something have you heard + Of Hamlet's transformation. So I call it, + Sith nor th' exterior nor the inward man + Resembles that it was. What it should be, + More than his father's death, that thus hath put him + So much from th' understanding of himself, + I cannot dream of. I entreat you both + That, being of so young clays brought up with him, + And since so neighbour'd to his youth and haviour, + That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court + Some little time; so by your companies + To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather + So much as from occasion you may glean, + Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus + That, open'd, lies within our remedy. + Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you, + And sure I am two men there are not living + To whom he more adheres. If it will please you + To show us so much gentry and good will + As to expend your time with us awhile + For the supply and profit of our hope, + Your visitation shall receive such thanks + As fits a king's remembrance. + Ros. Both your Majesties + Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, + Put your dread pleasures more into command + Than to entreaty. + Guil. But we both obey, + And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, + To lay our service freely at your feet, + To be commanded. + King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern. + Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz. + And I beseech you instantly to visit + My too much changed son.- Go, some of you, + And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. + Guil. Heavens make our presence and our practices + Pleasant and helpful to him! + Queen. Ay, amen! + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, [with some + Attendants]. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. Th' ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, + Are joyfully return'd. + King. Thou still hast been the father of good news. + Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege, + I hold my duty as I hold my soul, + Both to my God and to my gracious king; + And I do think- or else this brain of mine + Hunts not the trail of policy so sure + As it hath us'd to do- that I have found + The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. + King. O, speak of that! That do I long to hear. + Pol. Give first admittance to th' ambassadors. + My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. + King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. + [Exit Polonius.] + He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found + The head and source of all your son's distemper. + Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main, + His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage. + King. Well, we shall sift him. + + Enter Polonius, Voltemand, and Cornelius. + + Welcome, my good friends. + Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway? + Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires. + Upon our first, he sent out to suppress + His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd + To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack, + But better look'd into, he truly found + It was against your Highness; whereat griev'd, + That so his sickness, age, and impotence + Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests + On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys, + Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine, + Makes vow before his uncle never more + To give th' assay of arms against your Majesty. + Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, + Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee + And his commission to employ those soldiers, + So levied as before, against the Polack; + With an entreaty, herein further shown, + [Gives a paper.] + That it might please you to give quiet pass + Through your dominions for this enterprise, + On such regards of safety and allowance + As therein are set down. + King. It likes us well; + And at our more consider'd time we'll read, + Answer, and think upon this business. + Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour. + Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together. + Most welcome home! Exeunt Ambassadors. + Pol. This business is well ended. + My liege, and madam, to expostulate + What majesty should be, what duty is, + Why day is day, night is night, and time is time. + Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time. + Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, + And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, + I will be brief. Your noble son is mad. + Mad call I it; for, to define true madness, + What is't but to be nothing else but mad? + But let that go. + Queen. More matter, with less art. + Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all. + That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity; + And pity 'tis 'tis true. A foolish figure! + But farewell it, for I will use no art. + Mad let us grant him then. And now remains + That we find out the cause of this effect- + Or rather say, the cause of this defect, + For this effect defective comes by cause. + Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. + Perpend. + I have a daughter (have while she is mine), + Who in her duty and obedience, mark, + Hath given me this. Now gather, and surmise. + [Reads] the letter. + 'To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified + Ophelia,'- + + That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile + phrase. + But you shall hear. Thus: + [Reads.] + 'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.' + Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her? + Pol. Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful. [Reads.] + + 'Doubt thou the stars are fire; + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt truth to be a liar; + But never doubt I love. + 'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to + reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O most best, believe + it. Adieu. + 'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, + HAMLET.' + + This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me; + And more above, hath his solicitings, + As they fell out by time, by means, and place, + All given to mine ear. + King. But how hath she + Receiv'd his love? + Pol. What do you think of me? + King. As of a man faithful and honourable. + Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think, + When I had seen this hot love on the wing + (As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that, + Before my daughter told me), what might you, + Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think, + If I had play'd the desk or table book, + Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, + Or look'd upon this love with idle sight? + What might you think? No, I went round to work + And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: + 'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star. + This must not be.' And then I prescripts gave her, + That she should lock herself from his resort, + Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. + Which done, she took the fruits of my advice, + And he, repulsed, a short tale to make, + Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, + Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, + Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, + Into the madness wherein now he raves, + And all we mourn for. + King. Do you think 'tis this? + Queen. it may be, very like. + Pol. Hath there been such a time- I would fain know that- + That I have Positively said ''Tis so,' + When it prov'd otherwise.? + King. Not that I know. + Pol. [points to his head and shoulder] Take this from this, if this + be otherwise. + If circumstances lead me, I will find + Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed + Within the centre. + King. How may we try it further? + Pol. You know sometimes he walks four hours together + Here in the lobby. + Queen. So he does indeed. + Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him. + Be you and I behind an arras then. + Mark the encounter. If he love her not, + And he not from his reason fall'n thereon + Let me be no assistant for a state, + But keep a farm and carters. + King. We will try it. + + Enter Hamlet, reading on a book. + + Queen. But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. + Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away + I'll board him presently. O, give me leave. + Exeunt King and Queen, [with Attendants]. + How does my good Lord Hamlet? + Ham. Well, God-a-mercy. + Pol. Do you know me, my lord? + Ham. Excellent well. You are a fishmonger. + Pol. Not I, my lord. + Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man. + Pol. Honest, my lord? + Ham. Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man + pick'd out of ten thousand. + Pol. That's very true, my lord. + Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god + kissing carrion- Have you a daughter? + Pol. I have, my lord. + Ham. Let her not walk i' th' sun. Conception is a blessing, but not + as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't. + Pol. [aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter. Yet + he knew me not at first. He said I was a fishmonger. He is far + gone, far gone! And truly in my youth I suff'red much extremity + for love- very near this. I'll speak to him again.- What do you + read, my lord? + Ham. Words, words, words. + Pol. What is the matter, my lord? + Ham. Between who? + Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. + Ham. Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old men + have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes + purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a + plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams. All which, + sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it + not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir, + should be old as I am if, like a crab, you could go backward. + Pol. [aside] Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't.- + Will You walk out of the air, my lord? + Ham. Into my grave? + Pol. Indeed, that is out o' th' air. [Aside] How pregnant sometimes + his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which + reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I + will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between + him and my daughter.- My honourable lord, I will most humbly take + my leave of you. + Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more + willingly part withal- except my life, except my life, except my + life, + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Pol. Fare you well, my lord. + Ham. These tedious old fools! + Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet. There he is. + Ros. [to Polonius] God save you, sir! + Exit [Polonius]. + Guil. My honour'd lord! + Ros. My most dear lord! + Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, + Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? + Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. + Guil. Happy in that we are not over-happy. + On Fortune's cap we are not the very button. + Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe? + Ros. Neither, my lord. + Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her + favours? + Guil. Faith, her privates we. + Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? O! most true! she is a + strumpet. What news ? + Ros. None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest. + Ham. Then is doomsday near! But your news is not true. Let me + question more in particular. What have you, my good friends, + deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison + hither? + Guil. Prison, my lord? + Ham. Denmark's a prison. + Ros. Then is the world one. + Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and + dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst. + Ros. We think not so, my lord. + Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good + or bad but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison. + Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one. 'Tis too narrow for your + mind. + Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a + king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. + Guil. Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance of + the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. + Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. + Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that + it is but a shadow's shadow. + Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretch'd + heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to th' court? for, by my + fay, I cannot reason. + Both. We'll wait upon you. + Ham. No such matter! I will not sort you with the rest of my + servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most + dreadfully attended. But in the beaten way of friendship, what + make you at Elsinore? + Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. + Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you; + and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were + you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free + visitation? Come, deal justly with me. Come, come! Nay, speak. + Guil. What should we say, my lord? + Ham. Why, anything- but to th' purpose. You were sent for; and + there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your modesties + have not craft enough to colour. I know the good King and Queen + have sent for you. + Ros. To what end, my lord? + Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the rights + of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the + obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a + better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with + me, whether you were sent for or no. + Ros. [aside to Guildenstern] What say you? + Ham. [aside] Nay then, I have an eye of you.- If you love me, hold + not off. + Guil. My lord, we were sent for. + Ham. I will tell you why. So shall my anticipation prevent your + discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no + feather. I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all my + mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so + heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, + seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the + air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical + roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth no other thing + to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a + piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in + faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in + action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the + beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet to me what + is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me- no, nor woman + neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so. + Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. + Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said 'Man delights not me'? + Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten + entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted them + on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you service. + Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome- his Majesty shall + have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and + target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall + end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose + lungs are tickle o' th' sere; and the lady shall say her mind + freely, or the blank verse shall halt fort. What players are + they? + Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the + tragedians of the city. + Ham. How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in + reputation and profit, was better both ways. + Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late + innovation. + Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the + city? Are they so follow'd? + Ros. No indeed are they not. + Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty? + Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there is, + sir, an eyrie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top + of question and are most tyrannically clapp'd fort. These are now + the fashion, and so berattle the common stages (so they call + them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills and + dare scarce come thither. + Ham. What, are they children? Who maintains 'em? How are they + escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can + sing? Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow + themselves to common players (as it is most like, if their means + are no better), their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim + against their own succession. + Ros. Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation + holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy. There was, for a + while, no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player + went to cuffs in the question. + Ham. Is't possible? + Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains. + Ham. Do the boys carry it away? + Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord- Hercules and his load too. + Ham. It is not very strange; for my uncle is King of Denmark, and + those that would make mows at him while my father lived give + twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture in + little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if + philosophy could find it out. + + Flourish for the Players. + + Guil. There are the players. + Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come! Th' + appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony. Let me comply + with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players (which I + tell you must show fairly outwards) should more appear like + entertainment than yours. You are welcome. But my uncle-father + and aunt-mother are deceiv'd. + Guil. In what, my dear lord? + Ham. I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly I + know a hawk from a handsaw. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! + Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern- and you too- at each ear a hearer! + That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling + clouts. + Ros. Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an old + man is twice a child. + Ham. I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players. Mark it.- + You say right, sir; a Monday morning; twas so indeed. + Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you. + Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in + Rome- + Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord. + Ham. Buzz, buzz! + Pol. Upon my honour- + Ham. Then came each actor on his ass- + Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, + history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, + tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral; scene + individable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor + Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are + the only men. + Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou! + Pol. What treasure had he, my lord? + Ham. Why, + + 'One fair daughter, and no more, + The which he loved passing well.' + + Pol. [aside] Still on my daughter. + Ham. Am I not i' th' right, old Jephthah? + Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I + love passing well. + Ham. Nay, that follows not. + Pol. What follows then, my lord? + Ham. Why, + + 'As by lot, God wot,' + + and then, you know, + + 'It came to pass, as most like it was.' + + The first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for look + where my abridgment comes. + + Enter four or five Players. + + You are welcome, masters; welcome, all.- I am glad to see thee + well.- Welcome, good friends.- O, my old friend? Why, thy face is + valanc'd since I saw thee last. Com'st' thou to' beard me in + Denmark?- What, my young lady and mistress? By'r Lady, your + ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last by the + altitude of a chopine. Pray God your voice, like a piece of + uncurrent gold, be not crack'd within the ring.- Masters, you are + all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at + anything we see. We'll have a speech straight. Come, give us a + taste of your quality. Come, a passionate speech. + 1. Play. What speech, my good lord? + Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted; + or if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleas'd + not the million, 'twas caviary to the general; but it was (as I + receiv'd it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in + the top of mine) an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, + set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember one said + there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, + nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of + affectation; but call'd it an honest method, as wholesome as + sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in't + I chiefly lov'd. 'Twas AEneas' tale to Dido, and thereabout of it + especially where he speaks of Priam's slaughter. If it live in + your memory, begin at this line- let me see, let me see: + + 'The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian beast-' + + 'Tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus: + + 'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, + Black as his purpose, did the night resemble + When he lay couched in the ominous horse, + Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd + With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot + Now is be total gules, horridly trick'd + With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, + Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, + That lend a tyrannous and a damned light + To their lord's murther. Roasted in wrath and fire, + And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore, + With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus + Old grandsire Priam seeks.' + + So, proceed you. + Pol. Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good + discretion. + + 1. Play. 'Anon he finds him, + Striking too short at Greeks. His antique sword, + Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, + Repugnant to command. Unequal match'd, + Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide; + But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword + Th' unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, + Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top + Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash + Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear. For lo! his sword, + Which was declining on the milky head + Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' th' air to stick. + So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood, + And, like a neutral to his will and matter, + Did nothing. + But, as we often see, against some storm, + A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, + The bold winds speechless, and the orb below + As hush as death- anon the dreadful thunder + Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus' pause, + Aroused vengeance sets him new awork; + And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall + On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne, + With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword + Now falls on Priam. + Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! All you gods, + In general synod take away her power; + Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, + And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven, + As low as to the fiends! + + Pol. This is too long. + Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.- Prithee say on. + He's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on; come to + Hecuba. + + 1. Play. 'But who, O who, had seen the mobled queen-' + + Ham. 'The mobled queen'? + Pol. That's good! 'Mobled queen' is good. + + 1. Play. 'Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flames + With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head + Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe, + About her lank and all o'erteemed loins, + A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up- + Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd + 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd. + But if the gods themselves did see her then, + When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport + In Mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, + The instant burst of clamour that she made + (Unless things mortal move them not at all) + Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven + And passion in the gods.' + + Pol. Look, whe'r he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's + eyes. Prithee no more! + Ham. 'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon.- + Good my lord, will you see the players well bestow'd? Do you + hear? Let them be well us'd; for they are the abstract and brief + chronicles of the time. After your death you were better have a + bad epitaph than their ill report while you live. + Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert. + Ham. God's bodykins, man, much better! Use every man after his + desert, and who should scape whipping? Use them after your own + honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in + your bounty. Take them in. + Pol. Come, sirs. + Ham. Follow him, friends. We'll hear a play to-morrow. + Exeunt Polonius and Players [except the First]. + Dost thou hear me, old friend? Can you play 'The Murther of + Gonzago'? + 1. Play. Ay, my lord. + Ham. We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a + speech of some dozen or sixteen lines which I would set down and + insert in't, could you not? + 1. Play. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Very well. Follow that lord- and look you mock him not. + [Exit First Player.] + My good friends, I'll leave you till night. You are welcome to + Elsinore. + Ros. Good my lord! + Ham. Ay, so, God b' wi' ye! + [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern + Now I am alone. + O what a rogue and peasant slave am I! + Is it not monstrous that this player here, + But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, + Could force his soul so to his own conceit + That, from her working, all his visage wann'd, + Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, + A broken voice, and his whole function suiting + With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing! + For Hecuba! + What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, + That he should weep for her? What would he do, + Had he the motive and the cue for passion + That I have? He would drown the stage with tears + And cleave the general ear with horrid speech; + Make mad the guilty and appal the free, + Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed + The very faculties of eyes and ears. + Yet I, + A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak + Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, + And can say nothing! No, not for a king, + Upon whose property and most dear life + A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? + Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? + Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face? + Tweaks me by th' nose? gives me the lie i' th' throat + As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this, ha? + 'Swounds, I should take it! for it cannot be + But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall + To make oppression bitter, or ere this + I should have fatted all the region kites + With this slave's offal. Bloody bawdy villain! + Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! + O, vengeance! + Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, + That I, the son of a dear father murther'd, + Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, + Must (like a whore) unpack my heart with words + And fall a-cursing like a very drab, + A scullion! + Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! Hum, I have heard + That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, + Have by the very cunning of the scene + Been struck so to the soul that presently + They have proclaim'd their malefactions; + For murther, though it have no tongue, will speak + With most miraculous organ, I'll have these Players + Play something like the murther of my father + Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks; + I'll tent him to the quick. If he but blench, + I know my course. The spirit that I have seen + May be a devil; and the devil hath power + T' assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps + Out of my weakness and my melancholy, + As he is very potent with such spirits, + Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds + More relative than this. The play's the thing + Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King. Exit. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Lords. + + King. And can you by no drift of circumstance + Get from him why he puts on this confusion, + Grating so harshly all his days of quiet + With turbulent and dangerous lunacy? + Ros. He does confess he feels himself distracted, + But from what cause he will by no means speak. + Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded, + But with a crafty madness keeps aloof + When we would bring him on to some confession + Of his true state. + Queen. Did he receive you well? + Ros. Most like a gentleman. + Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition. + Ros. Niggard of question, but of our demands + Most free in his reply. + Queen. Did you assay him + To any pastime? + Ros. Madam, it so fell out that certain players + We o'erraught on the way. Of these we told him, + And there did seem in him a kind of joy + To hear of it. They are here about the court, + And, as I think, they have already order + This night to play before him. + Pol. 'Tis most true; + And he beseech'd me to entreat your Majesties + To hear and see the matter. + King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me + To hear him so inclin'd. + Good gentlemen, give him a further edge + And drive his purpose on to these delights. + Ros. We shall, my lord. + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; + For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, + That he, as 'twere by accident, may here + Affront Ophelia. + Her father and myself (lawful espials) + Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen, + We may of their encounter frankly judge + And gather by him, as he is behav'd, + If't be th' affliction of his love, or no, + That thus he suffers for. + Queen. I shall obey you; + And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish + That your good beauties be the happy cause + Of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope your virtues + Will bring him to his wonted way again, + To both your honours. + Oph. Madam, I wish it may. + [Exit Queen.] + Pol. Ophelia, walk you here.- Gracious, so please you, + We will bestow ourselves.- [To Ophelia] Read on this book, + That show of such an exercise may colour + Your loneliness.- We are oft to blame in this, + 'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage + And pious action we do sugar o'er + The Devil himself. + King. [aside] O, 'tis too true! + How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience! + The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art, + Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it + Than is my deed to my most painted word. + O heavy burthen! + Pol. I hear him coming. Let's withdraw, my lord. + Exeunt King and Polonius]. + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. To be, or not to be- that is the question: + Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer + The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune + Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, + And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep- + No more; and by a sleep to say we end + The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks + That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation + Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep. + To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub! + For in that sleep of death what dreams may come + When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, + Must give us pause. There's the respect + That makes calamity of so long life. + For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, + Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, + The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, + The insolence of office, and the spurns + That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, + When he himself might his quietus make + With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear, + To grunt and sweat under a weary life, + But that the dread of something after death- + The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn + No traveller returns- puzzles the will, + And makes us rather bear those ills we have + Than fly to others that we know not of? + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, + And enterprises of great pith and moment + With this regard their currents turn awry + And lose the name of action.- Soft you now! + The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons + Be all my sins rememb'red. + Oph. Good my lord, + How does your honour for this many a day? + Ham. I humbly thank you; well, well, well. + Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours + That I have longed long to re-deliver. + I pray you, now receive them. + Ham. No, not I! + I never gave you aught. + Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did, + And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd + As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost, + Take these again; for to the noble mind + Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. + There, my lord. + Ham. Ha, ha! Are you honest? + Oph. My lord? + Ham. Are you fair? + Oph. What means your lordship? + Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no + discourse to your beauty. + Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty? + Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform + honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can + translate beauty into his likeness. This was sometime a paradox, + but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. + Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. + Ham. You should not have believ'd me; for virtue cannot so + inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved you + not. + Oph. I was the more deceived. + Ham. Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of + sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse + me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me. + I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my + beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give + them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I + do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all; + believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your + father? + Oph. At home, my lord. + Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool + nowhere but in's own house. Farewell. + Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens! + Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: + be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape + calumny. Get thee to a nunnery. Go, farewell. Or if thou wilt + needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what + monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too. + Farewell. + Oph. O heavenly powers, restore him! + Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath + given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig, you + amble, and you lisp; you nickname God's creatures and make your + wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't! it hath made + me mad. I say, we will have no moe marriages. Those that are + married already- all but one- shall live; the rest shall keep as + they are. To a nunnery, go. Exit. + Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! + The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword, + Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state, + The glass of fashion and the mould of form, + Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down! + And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, + That suck'd the honey of his music vows, + Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, + Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; + That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth + Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me + T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see! + + Enter King and Polonius. + + King. Love? his affections do not that way tend; + Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little, + Was not like madness. There's something in his soul + O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; + And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose + Will be some danger; which for to prevent, + I have in quick determination + Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England + For the demand of our neglected tribute. + Haply the seas, and countries different, + With variable objects, shall expel + This something-settled matter in his heart, + Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus + From fashion of himself. What think you on't? + Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I believe + The origin and commencement of his grief + Sprung from neglected love.- How now, Ophelia? + You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said. + We heard it all.- My lord, do as you please; + But if you hold it fit, after the play + Let his queen mother all alone entreat him + To show his grief. Let her be round with him; + And I'll be plac'd so please you, in the ear + Of all their conference. If she find him not, + To England send him; or confine him where + Your wisdom best shall think. + King. It shall be so. + Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. hall in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet and three of the Players. + + Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, + trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our + players do, I had as live the town crier spoke my lines. Nor do + not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all + gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) + whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a + temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the + soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to + tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of the groundlings, who + (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb + shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipp'd for o'erdoing + Termagant. It out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it. + Player. I warrant your honour. + Ham. Be not too tame neither; but let your own discretion be your + tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with + this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of + nature: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, + whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as + 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show Virtue her own feature, + scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his + form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though + it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious + grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance + o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I + have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not to + speak it profanely), that, neither having the accent of + Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so + strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's + journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated + humanity so abominably. + Player. I hope we have reform'd that indifferently with us, sir. + Ham. O, reform it altogether! And let those that play your clowns + speak no more than is set down for them. For there be of them + that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren + spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some necessary + question of the play be then to be considered. That's villanous + and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go + make you ready. + Exeunt Players. + + Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. + + How now, my lord? Will the King hear this piece of work? + Pol. And the Queen too, and that presently. + Ham. Bid the players make haste, [Exit Polonius.] Will you two + help to hasten them? + Both. We will, my lord. Exeunt they two. + Ham. What, ho, Horatio! + + Enter Horatio. + + Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service. + Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man + As e'er my conversation cop'd withal. + Hor. O, my dear lord! + Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter; + For what advancement may I hope from thee, + That no revenue hast but thy good spirits + To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd? + No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, + And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee + Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? + Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice + And could of men distinguish, her election + Hath scald thee for herself. For thou hast been + As one, in suff'ring all, that suffers nothing; + A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards + Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those + Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled + That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger + To sound what stop she please. Give me that man + That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him + In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, + As I do thee. Something too much of this I + There is a play to-night before the King. + One scene of it comes near the circumstance, + Which I have told thee, of my father's death. + I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, + Even with the very comment of thy soul + Observe my uncle. If his occulted guilt + Do not itself unkennel in one speech, + It is a damned ghost that we have seen, + And my imaginations are as foul + As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note; + For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, + And after we will both our judgments join + In censure of his seeming. + Hor. Well, my lord. + If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, + And scape detecting, I will pay the theft. + + Sound a flourish. [Enter Trumpets and Kettledrums. Danish + march. [Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, + Guildenstern, and other Lords attendant, with the Guard + carrying torches. + + Ham. They are coming to the play. I must be idle. + Get you a place. + King. How fares our cousin Hamlet? + Ham. Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish. I eat the air, + promise-cramm'd. You cannot feed capons so. + King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet. These words are not + mine. + Ham. No, nor mine now. [To Polonius] My lord, you play'd once + i' th' university, you say? + Pol. That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor. + Ham. What did you enact? + Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar; I was kill'd i' th' Capitol; Brutus + kill'd me. + Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there. Be + the players ready. + Ros. Ay, my lord. They stay upon your patience. + Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me. + Ham. No, good mother. Here's metal more attractive. + Pol. [to the King] O, ho! do you mark that? + Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap? + [Sits down at Ophelia's feet.] + Oph. No, my lord. + Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap? + Oph. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Do you think I meant country matters? + Oph. I think nothing, my lord. + Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. + Oph. What is, my lord? + Ham. Nothing. + Oph. You are merry, my lord. + Ham. Who, I? + Oph. Ay, my lord. + Ham. O God, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry? + For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died + within 's two hours. + Oph. Nay 'tis twice two months, my lord. + Ham. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a + suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not forgotten + yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life + half a year. But, by'r Lady, he must build churches then; or else + shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose + epitaph is 'For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot!' + + Hautboys play. The dumb show enters. + + Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing + him and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation + unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her + neck. He lays him down upon a bank of flowers. She, seeing + him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his + crown, kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper's ears, and + leaves him. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and makes + passionate action. The Poisoner with some three or four Mutes, + comes in again, seem to condole with her. The dead body is + carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts; she + seems harsh and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts + his love. + Exeunt. + + Oph. What means this, my lord? + Ham. Marry, this is miching malhecho; it means mischief. + Oph. Belike this show imports the argument of the play. + + Enter Prologue. + + Ham. We shall know by this fellow. The players cannot keep counsel; + they'll tell all. + Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant? + Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show him. Be not you asham'd to + show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. + Oph. You are naught, you are naught! I'll mark the play. + + Pro. For us, and for our tragedy, + Here stooping to your clemency, + We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit.] + + Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? + Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord. + Ham. As woman's love. + + Enter [two Players as] King and Queen. + + King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round + Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, + And thirty dozed moons with borrowed sheen + About the world have times twelve thirties been, + Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands, + Unite comutual in most sacred bands. + Queen. So many journeys may the sun and moon + Make us again count o'er ere love be done! + But woe is me! you are so sick of late, + So far from cheer and from your former state. + That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust, + Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must; + For women's fear and love holds quantity, + In neither aught, or in extremity. + Now what my love is, proof hath made you know; + And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so. + Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; + Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. + King. Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too; + My operant powers their functions leave to do. + And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, + Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind + For husband shalt thou- + Queen. O, confound the rest! + Such love must needs be treason in my breast. + When second husband let me be accurst! + None wed the second but who killed the first. + + Ham. [aside] Wormwood, wormwood! + + Queen. The instances that second marriage move + Are base respects of thrift, but none of love. + A second time I kill my husband dead + When second husband kisses me in bed. + King. I do believe you think what now you speak; + But what we do determine oft we break. + Purpose is but the slave to memory, + Of violent birth, but poor validity; + Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree, + But fill unshaken when they mellow be. + Most necessary 'tis that we forget + To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt. + What to ourselves in passion we propose, + The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. + The violence of either grief or joy + Their own enactures with themselves destroy. + Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament; + Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. + This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange + That even our loves should with our fortunes change; + For 'tis a question left us yet to prove, + Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. + The great man down, you mark his favourite flies, + The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies; + And hitherto doth love on fortune tend, + For who not needs shall never lack a friend, + And who in want a hollow friend doth try, + Directly seasons him his enemy. + But, orderly to end where I begun, + Our wills and fates do so contrary run + That our devices still are overthrown; + Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. + So think thou wilt no second husband wed; + But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. + Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light, + Sport and repose lock from me day and night, + To desperation turn my trust and hope, + An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope, + Each opposite that blanks the face of joy + Meet what I would have well, and it destroy, + Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife, + If, once a widow, ever I be wife! + + Ham. If she should break it now! + + King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile. + My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile + The tedious day with sleep. + Queen. Sleep rock thy brain, + [He] sleeps. + And never come mischance between us twain! +Exit. + + Ham. Madam, how like you this play? + Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. + Ham. O, but she'll keep her word. + King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't? + Ham. No, no! They do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' th' + world. + King. What do you call the play? + Ham. 'The Mousetrap.' Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the + image of a murther done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke's name; + his wife, Baptista. You shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish piece of + work; but what o' that? Your Majesty, and we that have free + souls, it touches us not. Let the gall'd jade winch; our withers + are unwrung. + + Enter Lucianus. + + This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King. + Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord. + Ham. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see + the puppets dallying. + Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen. + Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge. + Oph. Still better, and worse. + Ham. So you must take your husbands.- Begin, murtherer. Pox, leave + thy damnable faces, and begin! Come, the croaking raven doth + bellow for revenge. + + Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; + Confederate season, else no creature seeing; + Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, + With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, + Thy natural magic and dire property + On wholesome life usurp immediately. + Pours the poison in his ears. + + Ham. He poisons him i' th' garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago. + The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You + shall see anon how the murtherer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. + Oph. The King rises. + Ham. What, frighted with false fire? + Queen. How fares my lord? + Pol. Give o'er the play. + King. Give me some light! Away! + All. Lights, lights, lights! + Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio. + Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep, + The hart ungalled play; + For some must watch, while some must sleep: + Thus runs the world away. + Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers- if the rest of my + fortunes turn Turk with me-with two Provincial roses on my raz'd + shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir? + Hor. Half a share. + Ham. A whole one I! + For thou dost know, O Damon dear, + This realm dismantled was + Of Jove himself; and now reigns here + A very, very- pajock. + Hor. You might have rhym'd. + Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand + pound! Didst perceive? + Hor. Very well, my lord. + Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning? + Hor. I did very well note him. + Ham. Aha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders! + For if the King like not the comedy, + Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy. + Come, some music! + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. + Ham. Sir, a whole history. + Guil. The King, sir- + Ham. Ay, sir, what of him? + Guil. Is in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd. + Ham. With drink, sir? + Guil. No, my lord; rather with choler. + Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to + the doctor; for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps + plunge him into far more choler. + Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start + not so wildly from my affair. + Ham. I am tame, sir; pronounce. + Guil. The Queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit + hath sent me to you. + Ham. You are welcome. + Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. + If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do + your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon and my return + shall be the end of my business. + Ham. Sir, I cannot. + Guil. What, my lord? + Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseas'd. But, sir, such + answer is I can make, you shall command; or rather, as you say, + my mother. Therefore no more, but to the matter! My mother, you + say- + Ros. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into + amazement and admiration. + Ham. O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother! But is there no + sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart. + Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed. + Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any + further trade with us? + Ros. My lord, you once did love me. + Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers! + Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely + bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to + your friend. + Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. + Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself + for your succession in Denmark? + Ham. Ay, sir, but 'while the grass grows'- the proverb is something + musty. + + Enter the Players with recorders. + + O, the recorders! Let me see one. To withdraw with you- why do + you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me + into a toil? + Guil. O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly. + Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? + Guil. My lord, I cannot. + Ham. I pray you. + Guil. Believe me, I cannot. + Ham. I do beseech you. + Guil. I know, no touch of it, my lord. + Ham. It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with your + fingers and thumbs, give it breath with your mouth, and it will + discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops. + Guil. But these cannot I command to any utt'rance of harmony. I + have not the skill. + Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You + would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would + pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my + lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, + excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it + speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be play'd on than a + pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, + you cannot play upon me. + + Enter Polonius. + + God bless you, sir! + Pol. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently. + Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? + Pol. By th' mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed. + Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel. + Pol. It is back'd like a weasel. + Ham. Or like a whale. + Pol. Very like a whale. + Ham. Then will I come to my mother by-and-by.- They fool me to the + top of my bent.- I will come by-and-by. + Pol. I will say so. Exit. + Ham. 'By-and-by' is easily said.- Leave me, friends. + [Exeunt all but Hamlet.] + 'Tis now the very witching time of night, + When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out + Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood + And do such bitter business as the day + Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother! + O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever + The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom. + Let me be cruel, not unnatural; + I will speak daggers to her, but use none. + My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites- + How in my words somever she be shent, + To give them seals never, my soul, consent! Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +A room in the Castle. + +Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. + + King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with us + To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you; + I your commission will forthwith dispatch, + And he to England shall along with you. + The terms of our estate may not endure + Hazard so near us as doth hourly grow + Out of his lunacies. + Guil. We will ourselves provide. + Most holy and religious fear it is + To keep those many many bodies safe + That live and feed upon your Majesty. + Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound + With all the strength and armour of the mind + To keep itself from noyance; but much more + That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests + The lives of many. The cesse of majesty + Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw + What's near it with it. It is a massy wheel, + Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, + To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things + Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which when it falls, + Each small annexment, petty consequence, + Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone + Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. + King. Arm you, I pray you, to th', speedy voyage; + For we will fetters put upon this fear, + Which now goes too free-footed. + Both. We will haste us. + Exeunt Gentlemen. + + Enter Polonius. + + Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet. + Behind the arras I'll convey myself + To hear the process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home; + And, as you said, and wisely was it said, + 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, + Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear + The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege. + I'll call upon you ere you go to bed + And tell you what I know. + King. Thanks, dear my lord. + Exit [Polonius]. + O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; + It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, + A brother's murther! Pray can I not, + Though inclination be as sharp as will. + My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, + And, like a man to double business bound, + I stand in pause where I shall first begin, + And both neglect. What if this cursed hand + Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, + Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens + To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy + But to confront the visage of offence? + And what's in prayer but this twofold force, + To be forestalled ere we come to fall, + Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up; + My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer + Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murther'? + That cannot be; since I am still possess'd + Of those effects for which I did the murther- + My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. + May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence? + In the corrupted currents of this world + Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, + And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself + Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above. + There is no shuffling; there the action lies + In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd, + Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, + To give in evidence. What then? What rests? + Try what repentance can. What can it not? + Yet what can it when one cannot repent? + O wretched state! O bosom black as death! + O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, + Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay. + Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel, + Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe! + All may be well. He kneels. + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; + And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven, + And so am I reveng'd. That would be scann'd. + A villain kills my father; and for that, + I, his sole son, do this same villain send + To heaven. + Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge! + He took my father grossly, full of bread, + With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; + And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven? + But in our circumstance and course of thought, + 'Tis heavy with him; and am I then reveng'd, + To take him in the purging of his soul, + When he is fit and seasoned for his passage? + No. + Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent. + When he is drunk asleep; or in his rage; + Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed; + At gaming, swearing, or about some act + That has no relish of salvation in't- + Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, + And that his soul may be as damn'd and black + As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays. + This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. Exit. + King. [rises] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. + Words without thoughts never to heaven go. Exit. + + + + +Scene IV. +The Queen's closet. + +Enter Queen and Polonius. + + Pol. He will come straight. Look you lay home to him. + Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, + And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between + Much heat and him. I'll silence me even here. + Pray you be round with him. + Ham. (within) Mother, mother, mother! + Queen. I'll warrant you; fear me not. Withdraw; I hear him coming. + [Polonius hides behind the arras.] + + Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter? + Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. + Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended. + Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. + Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. + Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet? + Ham. What's the matter now? + Queen. Have you forgot me? + Ham. No, by the rood, not so! + You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife, + And (would it were not so!) you are my mother. + Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak. + Ham. Come, come, and sit you down. You shall not budge I + You go not till I set you up a glass + Where you may see the inmost part of you. + Queen. What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murther me? + Help, help, ho! + Pol. [behind] What, ho! help, help, help! + Ham. [draws] How now? a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead! + [Makes a pass through the arras and] kills Polonius. + Pol. [behind] O, I am slain! + Queen. O me, what hast thou done? + Ham. Nay, I know not. Is it the King? + Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! + Ham. A bloody deed- almost as bad, good mother, + As kill a king, and marry with his brother. + Queen. As kill a king? + Ham. Ay, lady, it was my word. + [Lifts up the arras and sees Polonius.] + Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! + I took thee for thy better. Take thy fortune. + Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger. + Leave wringing of your hinds. Peace! sit you down + And let me wring your heart; for so I shall + If it be made of penetrable stuff; + If damned custom have not braz'd it so + That it is proof and bulwark against sense. + Queen. What have I done that thou dar'st wag thy tongue + In noise so rude against me? + Ham. Such an act + That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; + Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose + From the fair forehead of an innocent love, + And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows + As false as dicers' oaths. O, such a deed + As from the body of contraction plucks + The very soul, and sweet religion makes + A rhapsody of words! Heaven's face doth glow; + Yea, this solidity and compound mass, + With tristful visage, as against the doom, + Is thought-sick at the act. + Queen. Ay me, what act, + That roars so loud and thunders in the index? + Ham. Look here upon th's picture, and on this, + The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. + See what a grace was seated on this brow; + Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; + An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; + A station like the herald Mercury + New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill: + A combination and a form indeed + Where every god did seem to set his seal + To give the world assurance of a man. + This was your husband. Look you now what follows. + Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear + Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? + Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, + And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes + You cannot call it love; for at your age + The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble, + And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment + Would step from this to this? Sense sure you have, + Else could you not have motion; but sure that sense + Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err, + Nor sense to ecstacy was ne'er so thrall'd + But it reserv'd some quantity of choice + To serve in such a difference. What devil was't + That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind? + Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, + Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, + Or but a sickly part of one true sense + Could not so mope. + O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, + If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, + To flaming youth let virtue be as wax + And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no shame + When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, + Since frost itself as actively doth burn, + And reason panders will. + Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more! + Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul, + And there I see such black and grained spots + As will not leave their tinct. + Ham. Nay, but to live + In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, + Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love + Over the nasty sty! + Queen. O, speak to me no more! + These words like daggers enter in mine ears. + No more, sweet Hamlet! + Ham. A murtherer and a villain! + A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe + Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings; + A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, + That from a shelf the precious diadem stole + And put it in his pocket! + Queen. No more! + + Enter the Ghost in his nightgown. + + Ham. A king of shreds and patches!- + Save me and hover o'er me with your wings, + You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure? + Queen. Alas, he's mad! + Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide, + That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by + Th' important acting of your dread command? + O, say! + Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation + Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. + But look, amazement on thy mother sits. + O, step between her and her fighting soul + Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. + Speak to her, Hamlet. + Ham. How is it with you, lady? + Queen. Alas, how is't with you, + That you do bend your eye on vacancy, + And with th' encorporal air do hold discourse? + Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; + And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm, + Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements, + Start up and stand an end. O gentle son, + Upon the beat and flame of thy distemper + Sprinkle cool patience! Whereon do you look? + Ham. On him, on him! Look you how pale he glares! + His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, + Would make them capable.- Do not look upon me, + Lest with this piteous action you convert + My stern effects. Then what I have to do + Will want true colour- tears perchance for blood. + Queen. To whom do you speak this? + Ham. Do you see nothing there? + Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see. + Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? + Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. + Ham. Why, look you there! Look how it steals away! + My father, in his habit as he liv'd! + Look where he goes even now out at the portal! + Exit Ghost. + Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain. + This bodiless creation ecstasy + Is very cunning in. + Ham. Ecstasy? + My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time + And makes as healthful music. It is not madness + That I have utt'red. Bring me to the test, + And I the matter will reword; which madness + Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul + That not your trespass but my madness speaks. + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven; + Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; + And do not spread the compost on the weeds + To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue; + For in the fatness of these pursy times + Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg- + Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good. + Queen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain. + Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it, + And live the purer with the other half, + Good night- but go not to my uncle's bed. + Assume a virtue, if you have it not. + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + Of habits evil, is angel yet in this, + That to the use of actions fair and good + He likewise gives a frock or livery, + That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + To the next abstinence; the next more easy; + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + And either [master] the devil, or throw him out + With wondrous potency. Once more, good night; + And when you are desirous to be blest, + I'll blessing beg of you.- For this same lord, + I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so, + To punish me with this, and this with me, + That I must be their scourge and minister. + I will bestow him, and will answer well + The death I gave him. So again, good night. + I must be cruel, only to be kind; + Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. + One word more, good lady. + Queen. What shall I do? + Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: + Let the bloat King tempt you again to bed; + Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse; + And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, + Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, + Make you to ravel all this matter out, + That I essentially am not in madness, + But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; + For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, + Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib + Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so? + No, in despite of sense and secrecy, + Unpeg the basket on the house's top, + Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape, + To try conclusions, in the basket creep + And break your own neck down. + Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, + And breath of life, I have no life to breathe + What thou hast said to me. + Ham. I must to England; you know that? + Queen. Alack, + I had forgot! 'Tis so concluded on. + Ham. There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows, + Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd, + They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way + And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; + For 'tis the sport to have the enginer + Hoist with his own petar; and 't shall go hard + But I will delve one yard below their mines + And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet + When in one line two crafts directly meet. + This man shall set me packing. + I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.- + Mother, good night.- Indeed, this counsellor + Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, + Who was in life a foolish peating knave. + Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. + Good night, mother. + [Exit the Queen. Then] Exit Hamlet, tugging in + Polonius. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. Scene I. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King and Queen, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + King. There's matter in these sighs. These profound heaves + You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them. + Where is your son? + Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while. + [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.] + Ah, mine own lord, what have I seen to-night! + King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? + Queen. Mad as the sea and wind when both contend + Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit + Behind the arras hearing something stir, + Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!' + And in this brainish apprehension kills + The unseen good old man. + King. O heavy deed! + It had been so with us, had we been there. + His liberty is full of threats to all- + To you yourself, to us, to every one. + Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? + It will be laid to us, whose providence + Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt + This mad young man. But so much was our love + We would not understand what was most fit, + But, like the owner of a foul disease, + To keep it from divulging, let it feed + Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone? + Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd; + O'er whom his very madness, like some ore + Among a mineral of metals base, + Shows itself pure. He weeps for what is done. + King. O Gertrude, come away! + The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch + But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed + We must with all our majesty and skill + Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern! + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Friends both, go join you with some further aid. + Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, + And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him. + Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body + Into the chapel. I pray you haste in this. + Exeunt [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern]. + Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends + And let them know both what we mean to do + And what's untimely done. [So haply slander-] + Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, + As level as the cannon to his blank, + Transports his poisoned shot- may miss our name + And hit the woundless air.- O, come away! + My soul is full of discord and dismay. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A passage in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet. + + Ham. Safely stow'd. + Gentlemen. (within) Hamlet! Lord Hamlet! + Ham. But soft! What noise? Who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come. + + Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. + + Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body? + Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. + Ros. Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence + And bear it to the chapel. + Ham. Do not believe it. + Ros. Believe what? + Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides, to be + demanded of a sponge, what replication should be made by the son + of a king? + Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord? + Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the King's countenance, his rewards, + his authorities. But such officers do the King best service in + the end. He keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; + first mouth'd, to be last Swallowed. When he needs what you have + glean'd, it is but squeezing you and, sponge, you shall be dry + again. + Ros. I understand you not, my lord. + Ham. I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear. + Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us to + the King. + Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body. + The King is a thing- + Guil. A thing, my lord? + Ham. Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter King. + + King. I have sent to seek him and to find the body. + How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! + Yet must not we put the strong law on him. + He's lov'd of the distracted multitude, + Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; + And where 'tis so, th' offender's scourge is weigh'd, + But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, + This sudden sending him away must seem + Deliberate pause. Diseases desperate grown + By desperate appliance are reliev'd, + Or not at all. + + Enter Rosencrantz. + + How now O What hath befall'n? + Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, + We cannot get from him. + King. But where is he? + Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure. + King. Bring him before us. + Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! Bring in my lord. + + Enter Hamlet and Guildenstern [with Attendants]. + + King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? + Ham. At supper. + King. At supper? Where? + Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. A certain + convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your + only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us, and + we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar + is but variable service- two dishes, but to one table. That's the + end. + King. Alas, alas! + Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat + of the fish that hath fed of that worm. + King. What dost thou mean by this? + Ham. Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through + the guts of a beggar. + King. Where is Polonius? + Ham. In heaven. Send thither to see. If your messenger find him not + there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But indeed, if you + find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up + the stair, into the lobby. + King. Go seek him there. [To Attendants.] + Ham. He will stay till you come. + [Exeunt Attendants.] + King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,- + Which we do tender as we dearly grieve + For that which thou hast done,- must send thee hence + With fiery quickness. Therefore prepare thyself. + The bark is ready and the wind at help, + Th' associates tend, and everything is bent + For England. + Ham. For England? + King. Ay, Hamlet. + Ham. Good. + King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. + Ham. I see a cherub that sees them. But come, for England! + Farewell, dear mother. + King. Thy loving father, Hamlet. + Ham. My mother! Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is + one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England! +Exit. + King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard. + Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night. + Away! for everything is seal'd and done + That else leans on th' affair. Pray you make haste. + Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern] + And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,- + As my great power thereof may give thee sense, + Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red + After the Danish sword, and thy free awe + Pays homage to us,- thou mayst not coldly set + Our sovereign process, which imports at full, + By letters congruing to that effect, + The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; + For like the hectic in my blood he rages, + And thou must cure me. Till I know 'tis done, + Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. Exit. + + + + +<> + + + +Scene IV. +Near Elsinore. + +Enter Fortinbras with his Army over the stage. + + For. Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish king. + Tell him that by his license Fortinbras + Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march + Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. + if that his Majesty would aught with us, + We shall express our duty in his eye; + And let him know so. + Capt. I will do't, my lord. + For. Go softly on. + Exeunt [all but the Captain]. + + Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, [Guildenstern,] and others. + + Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these? + Capt. They are of Norway, sir. + Ham. How purpos'd, sir, I pray you? + Capt. Against some part of Poland. + Ham. Who commands them, sir? + Capt. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras. + Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, + Or for some frontier? + Capt. Truly to speak, and with no addition, + We go to gain a little patch of ground + That hath in it no profit but the name. + To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; + Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole + A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. + Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it. + Capt. Yes, it is already garrison'd. + Ham. Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats + Will not debate the question of this straw. + This is th' imposthume of much wealth and peace, + That inward breaks, and shows no cause without + Why the man dies.- I humbly thank you, sir. + Capt. God b' wi' you, sir. [Exit.] + Ros. Will't please you go, my lord? + Ham. I'll be with you straight. Go a little before. + [Exeunt all but Hamlet.] + How all occasions do inform against me + And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, + If his chief good and market of his time + Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more. + Sure he that made us with such large discourse, + Looking before and after, gave us not + That capability and godlike reason + To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be + Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple + Of thinking too precisely on th' event,- + A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom + And ever three parts coward,- I do not know + Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do,' + Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means + To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me. + Witness this army of such mass and charge, + Led by a delicate and tender prince, + Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd, + Makes mouths at the invisible event, + Exposing what is mortal and unsure + To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, + Even for an eggshell. Rightly to be great + Is not to stir without great argument, + But greatly to find quarrel in a straw + When honour's at the stake. How stand I then, + That have a father klll'd, a mother stain'd, + Excitements of my reason and my blood, + And let all sleep, while to my shame I see + The imminent death of twenty thousand men + That for a fantasy and trick of fame + Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot + Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, + Which is not tomb enough and continent + To hide the slain? O, from this time forth, + My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! Exit. + + + + +<> + + + +Scene V. +Elsinore. A room in the Castle. + +Enter Horatio, Queen, and a Gentleman. + + Queen. I will not speak with her. + Gent. She is importunate, indeed distract. + Her mood will needs be pitied. + Queen. What would she have? + Gent. She speaks much of her father; says she hears + There's tricks i' th' world, and hems, and beats her heart; + Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, + That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing, + Yet the unshaped use of it doth move + The hearers to collection; they aim at it, + And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; + Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them, + Indeed would make one think there might be thought, + Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. + Hor. 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew + Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. + Queen. Let her come in. + [Exit Gentleman.] + [Aside] To my sick soul (as sin's true nature is) + Each toy seems Prologue to some great amiss. + So full of artless jealousy is guilt + It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. + + Enter Ophelia distracted. + + Oph. Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark? + Queen. How now, Ophelia? + Oph. (sings) + How should I your true-love know + From another one? + By his cockle bat and' staff + And his sandal shoon. + + Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? + Oph. Say you? Nay, pray You mark. + + (Sings) He is dead and gone, lady, + He is dead and gone; + At his head a grass-green turf, + At his heels a stone. + + O, ho! + Queen. Nay, but Ophelia- + Oph. Pray you mark. + + (Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow- + + Enter King. + + Queen. Alas, look here, my lord! + Oph. (Sings) + Larded all with sweet flowers; + Which bewept to the grave did not go + With true-love showers. + + King. How do you, pretty lady? + Oph. Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. + Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at + your table! + King. Conceit upon her father. + Oph. Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you what + it means, say you this: + + (Sings) To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, + All in the morning bedtime, + And I a maid at your window, + To be your Valentine. + + Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es + And dupp'd the chamber door, + Let in the maid, that out a maid + Never departed more. + + King. Pretty Ophelia! + Oph. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't! + + [Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity, + Alack, and fie for shame! + Young men will do't if they come to't + By Cock, they are to blame. + + Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me, + You promis'd me to wed.' + + He answers: + + 'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun, + An thou hadst not come to my bed.' + + King. How long hath she been thus? + Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot + choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground. + My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good + counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet + ladies. Good night, good night. Exit + King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you. + [Exit Horatio.] + O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs + All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude, + When sorrows come, they come not single spies. + But in battalions! First, her father slain; + Next, Your son gone, and he most violent author + Of his own just remove; the people muddied, + Thick and and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers + For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly + In hugger-mugger to inter him; Poor Ophelia + Divided from herself and her fair-judgment, + Without the which we are Pictures or mere beasts; + Last, and as such containing as all these, + Her brother is in secret come from France; + And wants not buzzers to infect his ear + Feeds on his wonder, keep, himself in clouds, + With pestilent speeches of his father's death, + Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd, + Will nothing stick Our person to arraign + In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this, + Like to a murd'ring piece, in many places + Give, me superfluous death. A noise within. + Queen. Alack, what noise is this? + King. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door. + + Enter a Messenger. + + What is the matter? + Mess. Save Yourself, my lord: + The ocean, overpeering of his list, + Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste + Than Young Laertes, in a riotous head, + O'erbears Your offices. The rabble call him lord; + And, as the world were now but to begin, + Antiquity forgot, custom not known, + The ratifiers and props of every word, + They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!' + Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds, + 'Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!' + A noise within. + Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! + O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs! + King. The doors are broke. + + Enter Laertes with others. + + Laer. Where is this king?- Sirs, staid you all without. + All. No, let's come in! + Laer. I pray you give me leave. + All. We will, we will! + Laer. I thank you. Keep the door. [Exeunt his Followers.] + O thou vile king, + Give me my father! + Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. + Laer. That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard; + Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot + Even here between the chaste unsmirched brows + Of my true mother. + King. What is the cause, Laertes, + That thy rebellion looks so giantlike? + Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person. + There's such divinity doth hedge a king + That treason can but peep to what it would, + Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes, + Why thou art thus incens'd. Let him go, Gertrude. + Speak, man. + Laer. Where is my father? + King. Dead. + Queen. But not by him! + King. Let him demand his fill. + Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: + To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil + Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit! + I dare damnation. To this point I stand, + That both the world, I give to negligence, + Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd + Most throughly for my father. + King. Who shall stay you? + Laer. My will, not all the world! + And for my means, I'll husband them so well + They shall go far with little. + King. Good Laertes, + If you desire to know the certainty + Of your dear father's death, is't writ in Your revenge + That swoopstake you will draw both friend and foe, + Winner and loser? + Laer. None but his enemies. + King. Will you know them then? + Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms + And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican, + Repast them with my blood. + King. Why, now You speak + Like a good child and a true gentleman. + That I am guiltless of your father's death, + And am most sensibly in grief for it, + It shall as level to your judgment pierce + As day does to your eye. + A noise within: 'Let her come in.' + Laer. How now? What noise is that? + + Enter Ophelia. + + O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt + Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! + By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight + Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May! + Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! + O heavens! is't possible a young maid's wits + Should be as mortal as an old man's life? + Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine, + It sends some precious instance of itself + After the thing it loves. + + Oph. (sings) + They bore him barefac'd on the bier + (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony) + And in his grave rain'd many a tear. + + Fare you well, my dove! + Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, + It could not move thus. + Oph. You must sing 'A-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.' O, + how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his + master's daughter. + Laer. This nothing's more than matter. + Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, + remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts. + Laer. A document in madness! Thoughts and remembrance fitted. + Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you, + and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. + O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy. I + would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my father + died. They say he made a good end. + + [Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. + + Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, + She turns to favour and to prettiness. + Oph. (sings) + And will he not come again? + And will he not come again? + No, no, he is dead; + Go to thy deathbed; + He never will come again. + + His beard was as white as snow, + All flaxen was his poll. + He is gone, he is gone, + And we cast away moan. + God 'a'mercy on his soul! + + And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b' wi', you. +Exit. + Laer. Do you see this, O God? + King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief, + Or you deny me right. Go but apart, + Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will, + And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me. + If by direct or by collateral hand + They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, + Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours, + To you in satisfaction; but if not, + Be you content to lend your patience to us, + And we shall jointly labour with your soul + To give it due content. + Laer. Let this be so. + His means of death, his obscure funeral- + No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones, + No noble rite nor formal ostentation,- + Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, + That I must call't in question. + King. So you shall; + And where th' offence is let the great axe fall. + I pray you go with me. + Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +Scene VI. +Elsinore. Another room in the Castle. + +Enter Horatio with an Attendant. + + Hor. What are they that would speak with me? + Servant. Seafaring men, sir. They say they have letters for you. + Hor. Let them come in. + [Exit Attendant.] + I do not know from what part of the world + I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. + + Enter Sailors. + + Sailor. God bless you, sir. + Hor. Let him bless thee too. + Sailor. 'A shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, + sir,- it comes from th' ambassador that was bound for England- if + your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is. + Hor. (reads the letter) 'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlook'd + this, give these fellows some means to the King. They have + letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of + very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too + slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I + boarded them. On the instant they got clear of our ship; so I + alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves + of mercy; but they knew what they did: I am to do a good turn for + them. Let the King have the letters I have sent, and repair thou + to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have words + to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too + light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring + thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course + for England. Of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell. + 'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.' + + Come, I will give you way for these your letters, + And do't the speedier that you may direct me + To him from whom you brought them. Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +Scene VII. +Elsinore. Another room in the Castle. + +Enter King and Laertes. + + King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal, + And You must put me in your heart for friend, + Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, + That he which hath your noble father slain + Pursued my life. + Laer. It well appears. But tell me + Why you proceeded not against these feats + So crimeful and so capital in nature, + As by your safety, wisdom, all things else, + You mainly were stirr'd up. + King. O, for two special reasons, + Which may to you, perhaps, seein much unsinew'd, + But yet to me they are strong. The Queen his mother + Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,- + My virtue or my plague, be it either which,- + She's so conjunctive to my life and soul + That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, + I could not but by her. The other motive + Why to a public count I might not go + Is the great love the general gender bear him, + Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, + Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, + Convert his gives to graces; so that my arrows, + Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind, + Would have reverted to my bow again, + And not where I had aim'd them. + Laer. And so have I a noble father lost; + A sister driven into desp'rate terms, + Whose worth, if praises may go back again, + Stood challenger on mount of all the age + For her perfections. But my revenge will come. + King. Break not your sleeps for that. You must not think + That we are made of stuff so flat and dull + That we can let our beard be shook with danger, + And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more. + I lov'd your father, and we love ourself, + And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine- + + Enter a Messenger with letters. + + How now? What news? + Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: + This to your Majesty; this to the Queen. + King. From Hamlet? Who brought them? + Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not. + They were given me by Claudio; he receiv'd them + Of him that brought them. + King. Laertes, you shall hear them. + Leave us. + Exit Messenger. + [Reads]'High and Mighty,-You shall know I am set naked on your + kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes; + when I shall (first asking your pardon thereunto) recount the + occasion of my sudden and more strange return. + 'HAMLET.' + What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? + Or is it some abuse, and no such thing? + Laer. Know you the hand? + King. 'Tis Hamlet's character. 'Naked!' + And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.' + Can you advise me? + Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come! + It warms the very sickness in my heart + That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, + 'Thus didest thou.' + King. If it be so, Laertes + (As how should it be so? how otherwise?), + Will you be rul'd by me? + Laer. Ay my lord, + So you will not o'errule me to a peace. + King. To thine own peace. If he be now return'd + As checking at his voyage, and that he means + No more to undertake it, I will work him + To exploit now ripe in my device, + Under the which he shall not choose but fall; + And for his death no wind + But even his mother shall uncharge the practice + And call it accident. + Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd; + The rather, if you could devise it so + That I might be the organ. + King. It falls right. + You have been talk'd of since your travel much, + And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality + Wherein they say you shine, Your sun of parts + Did not together pluck such envy from him + As did that one; and that, in my regard, + Of the unworthiest siege. + Laer. What part is that, my lord? + King. A very riband in the cap of youth- + Yet needfull too; for youth no less becomes + The light and careless livery that it wears + Thin settled age his sables and his weeds, + Importing health and graveness. Two months since + Here was a gentleman of Normandy. + I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French, + And they can well on horseback; but this gallant + Had witchcraft in't. He grew unto his seat, + And to such wondrous doing brought his horse + As had he been incorps'd and demi-natur'd + With the brave beast. So far he topp'd my thought + That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, + Come short of what he did. + Laer. A Norman was't? + King. A Norman. + Laer. Upon my life, Lamound. + King. The very same. + Laer. I know him well. He is the broach indeed + And gem of all the nation. + King. He made confession of you; + And gave you such a masterly report + For art and exercise in your defence, + And for your rapier most especially, + That he cried out 'twould be a sight indeed + If one could match you. The scrimers of their nation + He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye, + If you oppos'd them. Sir, this report of his + Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy + That he could nothing do but wish and beg + Your sudden coming o'er to play with you. + Now, out of this- + Laer. What out of this, my lord? + King. Laertes, was your father dear to you? + Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, + A face without a heart,' + Laer. Why ask you this? + King. Not that I think you did not love your father; + But that I know love is begun by time, + And that I see, in passages of proof, + Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. + There lives within the very flame of love + A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it; + And nothing is at a like goodness still; + For goodness, growing to a plurisy, + Dies in his own too-much. That we would do, + We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes, + And hath abatements and delays as many + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, + That hurts by easing. But to the quick o' th' ulcer! + Hamlet comes back. What would you undertake + To show yourself your father's son in deed + More than in words? + Laer. To cut his throat i' th' church! + King. No place indeed should murther sanctuarize; + Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, + Will you do this? Keep close within your chamber. + Will return'd shall know you are come home. + We'll put on those shall praise your excellence + And set a double varnish on the fame + The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together + And wager on your heads. He, being remiss, + Most generous, and free from all contriving, + Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease, + Or with a little shuffling, you may choose + A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice, + Requite him for your father. + Laer. I will do't! + And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword. + I bought an unction of a mountebank, + So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, + Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, + Collected from all simples that have virtue + Under the moon, can save the thing from death + This is but scratch'd withal. I'll touch my point + With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, + It may be death. + King. Let's further think of this, + Weigh what convenience both of time and means + May fit us to our shape. If this should fall, + And that our drift look through our bad performance. + 'Twere better not assay'd. Therefore this project + Should have a back or second, that might hold + If this did blast in proof. Soft! let me see. + We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings- + I ha't! + When in your motion you are hot and dry- + As make your bouts more violent to that end- + And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd him + A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping, + If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, + Our purpose may hold there.- But stay, what noise, + + Enter Queen. + + How now, sweet queen? + Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel, + So fast they follow. Your sister's drown'd, Laertes. + Laer. Drown'd! O, where? + Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a brook, + That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream. + There with fantastic garlands did she come + Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, + That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, + But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them. + There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds + Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, + When down her weedy trophies and herself + Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide + And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; + Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes, + As one incapable of her own distress, + Or like a creature native and indued + Unto that element; but long it could not be + Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, + Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay + To muddy death. + Laer. Alas, then she is drown'd? + Queen. Drown'd, drown'd. + Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, + And therefore I forbid my tears; but yet + It is our trick; nature her custom holds, + Let shame say what it will. When these are gone, + The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord. + I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze + But that this folly douts it. Exit. + King. Let's follow, Gertrude. + How much I had to do to calm his rage I + Now fear I this will give it start again; + Therefore let's follow. + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. Scene I. +Elsinore. A churchyard. + +Enter two Clowns, [with spades and pickaxes]. + + Clown. Is she to be buried in Christian burial when she wilfully + seeks her own salvation? + Other. I tell thee she is; therefore make her grave straight. + The crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian burial. + Clown. How can that be, unless she drown'd herself in her own + defence? + Other. Why, 'tis found so. + Clown. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies + the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act; and an + act hath three branches-it is to act, to do, and to perform; + argal, she drown'd herself wittingly. + Other. Nay, but hear you, Goodman Delver! + Clown. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good. Here stands the + man; good. If the man go to this water and drown himself, it is, + will he nill he, he goes- mark you that. But if the water come to + him and drown him, he drowns not himself. Argal, he that is not + guilty of his own death shortens not his own life. + Other. But is this law? + Clown. Ay, marry, is't- crowner's quest law. + Other. Will you ha' the truth an't? If this had not been a + gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian burial. + Clown. Why, there thou say'st! And the more pity that great folk + should have count'nance in this world to drown or hang themselves + more than their even-Christen. Come, my spade! There is no + ancient gentlemen but gard'ners, ditchers, and grave-makers. They + hold up Adam's profession. + Other. Was he a gentleman? + Clown. 'A was the first that ever bore arms. + Other. Why, he had none. + Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? + The Scripture says Adam digg'd. Could he dig without arms? I'll + put another question to thee. If thou answerest me not to the + purpose, confess thyself- + Other. Go to! + Clown. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the + shipwright, or the carpenter? + Other. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand + tenants. + Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith. The gallows does well. + But how does it well? It does well to those that do ill. Now, + thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the + church. Argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come! + Other. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a + carpenter? + Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. + Other. Marry, now I can tell! + Clown. To't. + Other. Mass, I cannot tell. + + Enter Hamlet and Horatio afar off. + + Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will + not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask'd this + question next, say 'a grave-maker.' The houses he makes lasts + till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a stoup of + liquor. + [Exit Second Clown.] + + [Clown digs and] sings. + + In youth when I did love, did love, + Methought it was very sweet; + To contract- O- the time for- a- my behove, + O, methought there- a- was nothing- a- meet. + + Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at + grave-making? + Hor. Custom hath made it in him a Property of easiness. + Ham. 'Tis e'en so. The hand of little employment hath the daintier + sense. + Clown. (sings) + But age with his stealing steps + Hath clawed me in his clutch, + And hath shipped me intil the land, + As if I had never been such. + [Throws up a skull.] + + Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. How the + knave jowls it to the ground,as if 'twere Cain's jawbone, that + did the first murther! This might be the pate of a Politician, + which this ass now o'erreaches; one that would circumvent God, + might it not? + Hor. It might, my lord. + Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say 'Good morrow, sweet lord! + How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my Lord Such-a-one, that + prais'd my Lord Such-a-one's horse when he meant to beg it- might + it not? + Hor. Ay, my lord. + Ham. Why, e'en so! and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and knock'd + about the mazzard with a sexton's spade. Here's fine revolution, + and we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the + breeding but to play at loggets with 'em? Mine ache to think + on't. + Clown. (Sings) + A pickaxe and a spade, a spade, + For and a shrouding sheet; + O, a Pit of clay for to be made + For such a guest is meet. + Throws up [another skull]. + + Ham. There's another. Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? + Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, + and his tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock + him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him + of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time a + great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his + fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the fine of + his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine + pate full of fine dirt? Will his vouchers vouch him no more of + his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth + of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will + scarcely lie in this box; and must th' inheritor himself have no + more, ha? + Hor. Not a jot more, my lord. + Ham. Is not parchment made of sheepskins? + Hor. Ay, my lord, And of calveskins too. + Ham. They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I + will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah? + Clown. Mine, sir. + + [Sings] O, a pit of clay for to be made + For such a guest is meet. + + Ham. I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't. + Clown. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours. + For my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine. + Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine. 'Tis for + the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest. + Clown. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again from me to you. + Ham. What man dost thou dig it for? + Clown. For no man, sir. + Ham. What woman then? + Clown. For none neither. + Ham. Who is to be buried in't? + Clown. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. + Ham. How absolute the knave is! We must speak by the card, or + equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, this three years + I have taken note of it, the age is grown so picked that the toe + of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier he galls + his kibe.- How long hast thou been a grave-maker? + Clown. Of all the days i' th' year, I came to't that day that our + last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. + Ham. How long is that since? + Clown. Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the + very day that young Hamlet was born- he that is mad, and sent + into England. + Ham. Ay, marry, why was be sent into England? + Clown. Why, because 'a was mad. 'A shall recover his wits there; + or, if 'a do not, 'tis no great matter there. + Ham. Why? + Clown. 'Twill not he seen in him there. There the men are as mad as + he. + Ham. How came he mad? + Clown. Very strangely, they say. + Ham. How strangely? + Clown. Faith, e'en with losing his wits. + Ham. Upon what ground? + Clown. Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here, man and boy + thirty years. + Ham. How long will a man lie i' th' earth ere he rot? + Clown. Faith, if 'a be not rotten before 'a die (as we have many + pocky corses now-a-days that will scarce hold the laying in, I + will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will last + you nine year. + Ham. Why he more than another? + Clown. Why, sir, his hide is so tann'd with his trade that 'a will + keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of + your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now. This skull hath lien + you i' th' earth three-and-twenty years. + Ham. Whose was it? + Clown. A whoreson, mad fellow's it was. Whose do you think it was? + Ham. Nay, I know not. + Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 'A pour'd a flagon of + Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's + skull, the King's jester. + Ham. This? + Clown. E'en that. + Ham. Let me see. [Takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, + Horatio. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He + hath borne me on his back a thousand tunes. And now how abhorred + in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those + lips that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where be your gibes + now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment that + were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your + own grinning? Quite chap- fall'n? Now get you to my lady's + chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this + favour she must come. Make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, + tell me one thing. + Hor. What's that, my lord? + Ham. Dost thou think Alexander look'd o' this fashion i' th' earth? + Hor. E'en so. + Ham. And smelt so? Pah! + [Puts down the skull.] + Hor. E'en so, my lord. + Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not + imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he find it + stopping a bunghole? + Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so. + Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty + enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus: Alexander died, + Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is + earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam (whereto he + was converted) might they not stop a beer barrel? + Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, + Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. + O, that that earth which kept the world in awe + Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw! + But soft! but soft! aside! Here comes the King- + + Enter [priests with] a coffin [in funeral procession], King, + Queen, Laertes, with Lords attendant.] + + The Queen, the courtiers. Who is this they follow? + And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken + The corse they follow did with desp'rate hand + Fordo it own life. 'Twas of some estate. + Couch we awhile, and mark. + [Retires with Horatio.] + Laer. What ceremony else? + Ham. That is Laertes, + A very noble youth. Mark. + Laer. What ceremony else? + Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd + As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful; + And, but that great command o'ersways the order, + She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd + Till the last trumpet. For charitable prayers, + Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her. + Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, + Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home + Of bell and burial. + Laer. Must there no more be done? + Priest. No more be done. + We should profane the service of the dead + To sing a requiem and such rest to her + As to peace-parted souls. + Laer. Lay her i' th' earth; + And from her fair and unpolluted flesh + May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, + A minist'ring angel shall my sister be + When thou liest howling. + Ham. What, the fair Ophelia? + Queen. Sweets to the sweet! Farewell. + [Scatters flowers.] + I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; + I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, + And not have strew'd thy grave. + Laer. O, treble woe + Fall ten times treble on that cursed head + Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense + Depriv'd thee of! Hold off the earth awhile, + Till I have caught her once more in mine arms. + Leaps in the grave. + Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead + Till of this flat a mountain you have made + T' o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head + Of blue Olympus. + Ham. [comes forward] What is he whose grief + Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow + Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand + Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, + Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps in after Laertes. + Laer. The devil take thy soul! + [Grapples with him]. + Ham. Thou pray'st not well. + I prithee take thy fingers from my throat; + For, though I am not splenitive and rash, + Yet have I in me something dangerous, + Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand! + King. Pluck thein asunder. + Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet! + All. Gentlemen! + Hor. Good my lord, be quiet. + [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the + grave.] + Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme + Until my eyelids will no longer wag. + Queen. O my son, what theme? + Ham. I lov'd Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers + Could not (with all their quantity of love) + Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her? + King. O, he is mad, Laertes. + Queen. For love of God, forbear him! + Ham. 'Swounds, show me what thou't do. + Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself? + Woo't drink up esill? eat a crocodile? + I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine? + To outface me with leaping in her grave? + Be buried quick with her, and so will I. + And if thou prate of mountains, let them throw + Millions of acres on us, till our ground, + Singeing his pate against the burning zone, + Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, + I'll rant as well as thou. + Queen. This is mere madness; + And thus a while the fit will work on him. + Anon, as patient as the female dove + When that her golden couplets are disclos'd, + His silence will sit drooping. + Ham. Hear you, sir! + What is the reason that you use me thus? + I lov'd you ever. But it is no matter. + Let Hercules himself do what he may, + The cat will mew, and dog will have his day. +Exit. + King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him. + Exit Horatio. + [To Laertes] Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech. + We'll put the matter to the present push.- + Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.- + This grave shall have a living monument. + An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; + Till then in patience our proceeding be. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Elsinore. A hall in the Castle. + +Enter Hamlet and Horatio. + + Ham. So much for this, sir; now shall you see the other. + You do remember all the circumstance? + Hor. Remember it, my lord! + Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting + That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay + Worse than the mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly- + And prais'd be rashness for it; let us know, + Our indiscretion sometime serves us well + When our deep plots do pall; and that should learn us + There's a divinity that shapes our ends, + Rough-hew them how we will- + Hor. That is most certain. + Ham. Up from my cabin, + My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark + Grop'd I to find out them; had my desire, + Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew + To mine own room again; making so bold + (My fears forgetting manners) to unseal + Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio + (O royal knavery!), an exact command, + Larded with many several sorts of reasons, + Importing Denmark's health, and England's too, + With, hoo! such bugs and goblins in my life- + That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, + No, not to stay the finding of the axe, + My head should be struck off. + Hor. Is't possible? + Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more leisure. + But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed? + Hor. I beseech you. + Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies, + Or I could make a prologue to my brains, + They had begun the play. I sat me down; + Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair. + I once did hold it, as our statists do, + A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much + How to forget that learning; but, sir, now + It did me yeoman's service. Wilt thou know + Th' effect of what I wrote? + Hor. Ay, good my lord. + Ham. An earnest conjuration from the King, + As England was his faithful tributary, + As love between them like the palm might flourish, + As peace should still her wheaten garland wear + And stand a comma 'tween their amities, + And many such-like as's of great charge, + That, on the view and knowing of these contents, + Without debatement further, more or less, + He should the bearers put to sudden death, + Not shriving time allow'd. + Hor. How was this seal'd? + Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. + I had my father's signet in my purse, + which was the model of that Danish seal; + Folded the writ up in the form of th' other, + Subscrib'd it, gave't th' impression, plac'd it safely, + The changeling never known. Now, the next day + Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent + Thou know'st already. + Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't. + Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this employment! + They are not near my conscience; their defeat + Does by their own insinuation grow. + 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes + Between the pass and fell incensed points + Of mighty opposites. + Hor. Why, what a king is this! + Ham. Does it not, thinks't thee, stand me now upon- + He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother; + Popp'd in between th' election and my hopes; + Thrown out his angle for my Proper life, + And with such coz'nage- is't not perfect conscience + To quit him with this arm? And is't not to be damn'd + To let this canker of our nature come + In further evil? + Hor. It must be shortly known to him from England + What is the issue of the business there. + Ham. It will be short; the interim is mine, + And a man's life is no more than to say 'one.' + But I am very sorry, good Horatio, + That to Laertes I forgot myself, + For by the image of my cause I see + The portraiture of his. I'll court his favours. + But sure the bravery of his grief did put me + Into a tow'ring passion. + Hor. Peace! Who comes here? + + Enter young Osric, a courtier. + + Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. + Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. [Aside to Horatio] Dost know this + waterfly? + Hor. [aside to Hamlet] No, my good lord. + Ham. [aside to Horatio] Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a + vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile. Let a beast be + lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess. 'Tis + a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt. + Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart + a thing to you from his Majesty. + Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Put your + bonnet to his right use. 'Tis for the head. + Osr. I thank your lordship, it is very hot. + Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly. + Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. + Ham. But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion. + Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry, as 'twere- I cannot + tell how. But, my lord, his Majesty bade me signify to you that + he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter- + Ham. I beseech you remember. + [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat.] + Osr. Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here is + newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman, + full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and + great showing. Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card + or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the continent of + what part a gentleman would see. + Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; though, I + know, to divide him inventorially would dozy th' arithmetic of + memory, and yet but yaw neither in respect of his quick sail. + But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great + article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to make + true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else + would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more. + Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him. + Ham. The concernancy, sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman in our more + rawer breath + Osr. Sir? + Hor [aside to Hamlet] Is't not possible to understand in another + tongue? You will do't, sir, really. + Ham. What imports the nomination of this gentleman + Osr. Of Laertes? + Hor. [aside] His purse is empty already. All's golden words are + spent. + Ham. Of him, sir. + Osr. I know you are not ignorant- + Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not + much approve me. Well, sir? + Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is- + Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in + excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself. + Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him + by them, in his meed he's unfellowed. + Ham. What's his weapon? + Osr. Rapier and dagger. + Ham. That's two of his weapons- but well. + Osr. The King, sir, hath wager'd with him six Barbary horses; + against the which he has impon'd, as I take it, six French + rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, and + so. Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, + very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of + very liberal conceit. + Ham. What call you the carriages? + Hor. [aside to Hamlet] I knew you must be edified by the margent + ere you had done. + Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers. + Ham. The phrase would be more germane to the matter if we could + carry cannon by our sides. I would it might be hangers till then. + But on! Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their + assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages: that's the French + bet against the Danish. Why is this all impon'd, as you call it? + Osr. The King, sir, hath laid that, in a dozen passes between + yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits; he hath + laid on twelve for nine, and it would come to immediate trial + if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer. + Ham. How if I answer no? + Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial. + Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall. If it please his Majesty, + it is the breathing time of day with me. Let the foils be + brought, the gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose, + I will win for him if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my + shame and the odd hits. + Osr. Shall I redeliver you e'en so? + Ham. To this effect, sir, after what flourish your nature will. + Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship. + Ham. Yours, yours. [Exit Osric.] He does well to commend it + himself; there are no tongues else for's turn. + Hor. This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head. + Ham. He did comply with his dug before he suck'd it. Thus has he, + and many more of the same bevy that I know the drossy age dotes + on, only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter- + a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through and + through the most fann'd and winnowed opinions; and do but blow + them to their trial-the bubbles are out, + + Enter a Lord. + + Lord. My lord, his Majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who + brings back to him, that you attend him in the hall. He sends to + know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will + take longer time. + Ham. I am constant to my purposes; they follow the King's pleasure. + If his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided + I be so able as now. + Lord. The King and Queen and all are coming down. + Ham. In happy time. + Lord. The Queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to + Laertes before you fall to play. + Ham. She well instructs me. + [Exit Lord.] + Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord. + Ham. I do not think so. Since he went into France I have been in + continual practice. I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not + think how ill all's here about my heart. But it is no matter. + Hor. Nay, good my lord - + Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gaingiving as + would perhaps trouble a woman. + Hor. If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall their + repair hither and say you are not fit. + Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury; there's a special providence in + the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come', if it be + not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: + the readiness is all. Since no man knows aught of what he leaves, + what is't to leave betimes? Let be. + + Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Osric, and Lords, with other + Attendants with foils and gauntlets. + A table and flagons of wine on it. + + King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me. + [The King puts Laertes' hand into Hamlet's.] + Ham. Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you wrong; + But pardon't, as you are a gentleman. + This presence knows, + And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd + With sore distraction. What I have done + That might your nature, honour, and exception + Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. + Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet. + If Hamlet from himself be taken away, + And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, + Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. + Who does it, then? His madness. If't be so, + Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; + His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. + Sir, in this audience, + Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil + Free me so far in your most generous thoughts + That I have shot my arrow o'er the house + And hurt my brother. + Laer. I am satisfied in nature, + Whose motive in this case should stir me most + To my revenge. But in my terms of honour + I stand aloof, and will no reconcilement + Till by some elder masters of known honour + I have a voice and precedent of peace + To keep my name ungor'd. But till that time + I do receive your offer'd love like love, + And will not wrong it. + Ham. I embrace it freely, + And will this brother's wager frankly play. + Give us the foils. Come on. + Laer. Come, one for me. + Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes. In mine ignorance + Your skill shall, like a star i' th' darkest night, + Stick fiery off indeed. + Laer. You mock me, sir. + Ham. No, by this bad. + King. Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, + You know the wager? + Ham. Very well, my lord. + Your Grace has laid the odds o' th' weaker side. + King. I do not fear it, I have seen you both; + But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds. + Laer. This is too heavy; let me see another. + Ham. This likes me well. These foils have all a length? + Prepare to play. + Osr. Ay, my good lord. + King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table. + If Hamlet give the first or second hit, + Or quit in answer of the third exchange, + Let all the battlements their ordnance fire; + The King shall drink to Hamlet's better breath, + And in the cup an union shall he throw + Richer than that which four successive kings + In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups; + And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, + The trumpet to the cannoneer without, + The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, + 'Now the King drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin. + And you the judges, bear a wary eye. + Ham. Come on, sir. + Laer. Come, my lord. They play. + Ham. One. + Laer. No. + Ham. Judgment! + Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit. + Laer. Well, again! + King. Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine; + Here's to thy health. + [Drum; trumpets sound; a piece goes off [within]. + Give him the cup. + Ham. I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. + Come. (They play.) Another hit. What say you? + Laer. A touch, a touch; I do confess't. + King. Our son shall win. + Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath. + Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows. + The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. + Ham. Good madam! + King. Gertrude, do not drink. + Queen. I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me. Drinks. + King. [aside] It is the poison'd cup; it is too late. + Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam; by-and-by. + Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face. + Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now. + King. I do not think't. + Laer. [aside] And yet it is almost against my conscience. + Ham. Come for the third, Laertes! You but dally. + pray You Pass with your best violence; + I am afeard You make a wanton of me. + Laer. Say you so? Come on. Play. + Osr. Nothing neither way. + Laer. Have at you now! + [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then] in scuffling, they + change rapiers, [and Hamlet wounds Laertes]. + King. Part them! They are incens'd. + Ham. Nay come! again! The Queen falls. + Osr. Look to the Queen there, ho! + Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord? + Osr. How is't, Laertes? + Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric. + I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. + Ham. How does the Queen? + King. She sounds to see them bleed. + Queen. No, no! the drink, the drink! O my dear Hamlet! + The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. [Dies.] + Ham. O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd. + Treachery! Seek it out. + [Laertes falls.] + Laer. It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain; + No medicine in the world can do thee good. + In thee there is not half an hour of life. + The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, + Unbated and envenom'd. The foul practice + Hath turn'd itself on me. Lo, here I lie, + Never to rise again. Thy mother's poison'd. + I can no more. The King, the King's to blame. + Ham. The point envenom'd too? + Then, venom, to thy work. Hurts the King. + All. Treason! treason! + King. O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt. + Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned Dane, + Drink off this potion! Is thy union here? + Follow my mother. King dies. + Laer. He is justly serv'd. + It is a poison temper'd by himself. + Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. + Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, + Nor thine on me! Dies. + Ham. Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. + I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu! + You that look pale and tremble at this chance, + That are but mutes or audience to this act, + Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, Death, + Is strict in his arrest) O, I could tell you- + But let it be. Horatio, I am dead; + Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright + To the unsatisfied. + Hor. Never believe it. + I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. + Here's yet some liquor left. + Ham. As th'art a man, + Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I'll ha't. + O good Horatio, what a wounded name + (Things standing thus unknown) shall live behind me! + If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, + Absent thee from felicity awhile, + And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, + To tell my story. [March afar off, and shot within.] + What warlike noise is this? + Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, + To the ambassadors of England gives + This warlike volley. + Ham. O, I die, Horatio! + The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit. + I cannot live to hear the news from England, + But I do prophesy th' election lights + On Fortinbras. He has my dying voice. + So tell him, with th' occurrents, more and less, + Which have solicited- the rest is silence. Dies. + Hor. Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, + And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! + [March within.] + Why does the drum come hither? + + Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassadors, with Drum, + Colours, and Attendants. + + Fort. Where is this sight? + Hor. What is it you will see? + If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. + Fort. This quarry cries on havoc. O proud Death, + What feast is toward in thine eternal cell + That thou so many princes at a shot + So bloodily hast struck. + Ambassador. The sight is dismal; + And our affairs from England come too late. + The ears are senseless that should give us bearing + To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd + That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. + Where should We have our thanks? + Hor. Not from his mouth, + Had it th' ability of life to thank you. + He never gave commandment for their death. + But since, so jump upon this bloody question, + You from the Polack wars, and you from England, + Are here arriv'd, give order that these bodies + High on a stage be placed to the view; + And let me speak to the yet unknowing world + How these things came about. So shall You hear + Of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts; + Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters; + Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause; + And, in this upshot, purposes mistook + Fall'n on th' inventors' heads. All this can I + Truly deliver. + Fort. Let us haste to hear it, + And call the noblest to the audience. + For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune. + I have some rights of memory in this kingdom + Which now, to claim my vantage doth invite me. + Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to speak, + And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more. + But let this same be presently perform'd, + Even while men's minds are wild, lest more mischance + On plots and errors happen. + Fort. Let four captains + Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage; + For he was likely, had he been put on, + To have prov'd most royally; and for his passage + The soldiers' music and the rites of war + Speak loudly for him. + Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this + Becomes the field but here shows much amiss. + Go, bid the soldiers shoot. + Exeunt marching; after the which a peal of ordnance + are shot off. + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1598 + +THE FIRST PART OF KING HENRY THE FOURTH + + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + King Henry the Fourth. + Henry, Prince of Wales, son to the King. + Prince John of Lancaster, son to the King. + Earl of Westmoreland. + Sir Walter Blunt. + Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester. + Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland. + Henry Percy, surnamed Hotspur, his son. + Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. + Richard Scroop, Archbishop of York. + Archibald, Earl of Douglas. + Owen Glendower. + Sir Richard Vernon. + Sir John Falstaff. + Sir Michael, a friend to the Archbishop of York. + Poins. + Gadshill + Peto. + Bardolph. + + Lady Percy, wife to Hotspur, and sister to Mortimer. + Lady Mortimer, daughter to Glendower, and wife to Mortimer. + Mistress Quickly, hostess of the Boar's Head in Eastcheap. + + Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, two + Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants. + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE.--England and Wales. + + +ACT I. Scene I. +London. The Palace. + +Enter the King, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, +[Sir Walter Blunt,] with others. + + King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, + Find we a time for frighted peace to pant + And breathe short-winded accents of new broils + To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote. + No more the thirsty entrance of this soil + Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood. + No more shall trenching war channel her fields, + Nor Bruise her flow'rets with the armed hoofs + Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes + Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, + All of one nature, of one substance bred, + Did lately meet in the intestine shock + And furious close of civil butchery, + Shall now in mutual well-beseeming ranks + March all one way and be no more oppos'd + Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies. + The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, + No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, + As far as to the sepulchre of Christ- + Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross + We are impressed and engag'd to fight- + Forthwith a power of English shall we levy, + Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb + To chase these pagans in those holy fields + Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet + Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd + For our advantage on the bitter cross. + But this our purpose now is twelvemonth old, + And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go. + Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear + Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, + What yesternight our Council did decree + In forwarding this dear expedience. + West. My liege, this haste was hot in question + And many limits of the charge set down + But yesternight; when all athwart there came + A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news; + Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer, + Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight + Against the irregular and wild Glendower, + Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, + A thousand of his people butchered; + Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse, + Such beastly shameless transformation, + By those Welshwomen done as may not be + Without much shame retold or spoken of. + King. It seems then that the tidings of this broil + Brake off our business for the Holy Land. + West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious lord; + For more uneven and unwelcome news + Came from the North, and thus it did import: + On Holy-rood Day the gallant Hotspur there, + Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, + That ever-valiant and approved Scot, + At Holmedon met, + Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; + As by discharge of their artillery + And shape of likelihood the news was told; + For he that brought them, in the very heat + And pride of their contention did take horse, + Uncertain of the issue any way. + King. Here is a dear, a true-industrious friend, + Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, + Stain'd with the variation of each soil + Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours, + And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news. + The Earl of Douglas is discomfited; + Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights, + Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter see + On Holmedon's plains. Of prisoners, Hotspur took + Mordake Earl of Fife and eldest son + To beaten Douglas, and the Earl of Athol, + Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. + And is not this an honourable spoil? + A gallant prize? Ha, cousin, is it not? + West. In faith, + It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. + King. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sin + In envy that my Lord Northumberland + Should be the father to so blest a son- + A son who is the theme of honour's tongue, + Amongst a grove the very straightest plant; + Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride; + Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, + See riot and dishonour stain the brow + Of my young Harry. O that it could be prov'd + That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd + In cradle clothes our children where they lay, + And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet! + Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. + But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz, + Of this young Percy's pride? The prisoners + Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd + To his own use he keeps, and sends me word + I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife. + West. This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester, + Malevolent to you In all aspects, + Which makes him prune himself and bristle up + The crest of youth against your dignity. + King. But I have sent for him to answer this; + And for this cause awhile we must neglect + Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. + Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we + Will hold at Windsor. So inform the lords; + But come yourself with speed to us again; + For more is to be said and to be done + Than out of anger can be uttered. + West. I will my liege. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +London. An apartment of the Prince's. + +Enter Prince of Wales and Sir John Falstaff. + + Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? + Prince. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old sack, and + unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after + noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou + wouldest truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time + of the day, Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, + and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping + houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in + flame-coloured taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so + superfluous to demand the time of the day. + Fal. Indeed you come near me now, Hal; for we that take purses go + by the moon And the seven stars, and not by Phoebus, he, that + wand'ring knight so fair. And I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art + king, as, God save thy Grace-Majesty I should say, for grace thou + wilt have none- + Prince. What, none? + Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to + an egg and butter. + Prince. Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly. + Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that + are squires of the night's body be called thieves of the day's + beauty. Let us be Diana's Foresters, Gentlemen of the Shade, + Minions of the Moon; and let men say we be men of good + government, being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste + mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal. + Prince. Thou sayest well, and it holds well too; for the fortune of + us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being + governed, as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof now: a purse + of gold most resolutely snatch'd on Monday night and most + dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing 'Lay by,' + and spent with crying 'Bring in'; now ill as low an ebb as the + foot of the ladder, and by-and-by in as high a flow as the ridge + of the gallows. + Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad- and is not my hostess of + the tavern a most sweet wench? + Prince. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle- and is not + a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? + Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy quips and thy + quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin? + Prince. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? + Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reckoning many a time and oft. + Prince. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? + Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. + Prince. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and + where it would not, I have used my credit. + Fal. Yea, and so us'd it that, were it not here apparent that thou + art heir apparent- But I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be + gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution + thus fubb'd as it is with the rusty curb of old father antic the + law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. + Prince. No; thou shalt. + Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge. + Prince. Thou judgest false already. I mean, thou shalt have the + hanging of the thieves and so become a rare hangman. + Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour as + well as waiting in the court, I can tell you. + Prince. For obtaining of suits? + Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no lean + wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib-cat or a lugg'd + bear. + Prince. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. + Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. + Prince. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor + Ditch? + Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes, and art indeed the most + comparative, rascalliest, sweet young prince. But, Hal, I prithee + trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew + where a commodity of good names were to be bought. An old lord of + the Council rated me the other day in the street about you, sir, + but I mark'd him not; and yet he talked very wisely, but I + regarded him not; and yet he talk'd wisely, and in the street + too. + Prince. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and + no man regards it. + Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to + corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal- God + forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and + now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of + the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over! + By the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain! I'll be damn'd for + never a king's son in Christendom. + Prince. Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack? + Fal. Zounds, where thou wilt, lad! I'll make one. An I do not, call + me villain and baffle me. + Prince. I see a good amendment of life in thee- from praying to + purse-taking. + Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal. 'Tis no sin for a man to + labour in his vocation. + + Enter Poins. + + Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if men + were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for + him? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried 'Stand!' + to a true man. + Prince. Good morrow, Ned. + Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse? What + says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee + about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good Friday last for a + cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg? + Prince. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his + bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs. He will give + the devil his due. + Poins. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the devil. + Prince. Else he had been damn'd for cozening the devil. + Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock + early, at Gadshill! There are pilgrims gong to Canterbury with + rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses. I + have vizards for you all; you have horses for yourselves. + Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester. I have bespoke supper + to-morrow night in Eastcheap. We may do it as secure as sleep. If + you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will + not, tarry at home and be hang'd! + Fal. Hear ye, Yedward: if I tarry at home and go not, I'll hang you + for going. + Poins. You will, chops? + Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one? + Prince. Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith. + Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, + nor thou cam'st not of the blood royal if thou darest not stand + for ten shillings. + Prince. Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap. + Fal. Why, that's well said. + Prince. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. + Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king. + Prince. I care not. + Poins. Sir John, I prithee, leave the Prince and me alone. I will + lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall go. + Fal. Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him the ears + of profiting, that what thou speakest may move and what he hears + may be believed, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) + prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time want + countenance. Farewell; you shall find me in Eastcheap. + Prince. Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown summer! + Exit Falstaff. + Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow. I + have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, + Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have + already waylaid; yourself and I will not be there; and when they + have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head off + from my shoulders. + Prince. How shall we part with them in setting forth? + Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them and appoint them + a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and + then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves; which they + shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them. + Prince. Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our horses, by + our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves. + Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see- I'll tie them in the + wood; our wizards we will change after we leave them; and, + sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our + noted outward garments. + Prince. Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us. + Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred + cowards as ever turn'd back; and for the third, if he fight + longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of + this jest will lie the incomprehensible lies that this same fat + rogue will tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty, at least, + he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he + endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest. + Prince. Well, I'll go with thee. Provide us all things necessary + and meet me to-night in Eastcheap. There I'll sup. Farewell. + Poins. Farewell, my lord. Exit. + Prince. I know you all, and will awhile uphold + The unyok'd humour of your idleness. + Yet herein will I imitate the sun, + Who doth permit the base contagious clouds + To smother up his beauty from the world, + That, when he please again to lie himself, + Being wanted, he may be more wond'red at + By breaking through the foul and ugly mists + Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. + If all the year were playing holidays, + To sport would be as tedious as to work; + But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come, + And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. + So, when this loose behaviour I throw off + And pay the debt I never promised, + By how much better than my word I am, + By so much shall I falsify men's hopes; + And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, + My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault, + Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes + Than that which hath no foil to set it off. + I'll so offend to make offence a skill, + Redeeming time when men think least I will. Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +London. The Palace. + +Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, +with others. + + King. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, + Unapt to stir at these indignities, + And you have found me, for accordingly + You tread upon my patience; but be sure + I will from henceforth rather be myself, + Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition, + Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, + And therefore lost that title of respect + Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. + Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves + The scourge of greatness to be us'd on it- + And that same greatness too which our own hands + Have holp to make so portly. + North. My lord- + King. Worcester, get thee gone; for I do see + Danger and disobedience in thine eye. + O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, + And majesty might never yet endure + The moody frontier of a servant brow. + Tou have good leave to leave us. When we need + 'Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. + Exit Worcester. + You were about to speak. + North. Yea, my good lord. + Those prisoners in your Highness' name demanded + Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, + Were, as he says, not with such strength denied + As is delivered to your Majesty. + Either envy, therefore, or misprision + Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. + Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. + But I remember, when the fight was done, + When I was dry with rage and extreme toll, + Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, + Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dress'd, + Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd + Show'd like a stubble land at harvest home. + He was perfumed like a milliner, + And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held + A pouncet box, which ever and anon + He gave his nose, and took't away again; + Who therewith angry, when it next came there, + Took it in snuff; and still he smil'd and talk'd; + And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, + He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, + To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse + Betwixt the wind and his nobility. + With many holiday and lady terms + He questioned me, amongst the rest demanded + My prisoners in your Majesty's behalf. + I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, + To be so pest'red with a popingay, + Out of my grief and my impatience + Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what- + He should, or he should not; for he made me mad + To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, + And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman + Of guns and drums and wounds- God save the mark!- + And telling me the sovereignest thing on earth + Was parmacity for an inward bruise; + And that it was great pity, so it was, + This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd + Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, + Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd + So cowardly; and but for these vile 'guns, + He would himself have been a soldier. + This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, + I answered indirectly, as I said, + And I beseech you, let not his report + Come current for an accusation + Betwixt my love and your high majesty. + Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my lord, + Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said + To such a person, and in such a place, + At such a time, with all the rest retold, + May reasonably die, and never rise + To do him wrong, or any way impeach + What then he said, so he unsay it now. + King. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, + But with proviso and exception, + That we at our own charge shall ransom straight + His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer; + Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd + The lives of those that he did lead to fight + Against that great magician, damn'd Glendower, + Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March + Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then, + Be emptied to redeem a traitor home? + Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears + When they have lost and forfeited themselves? + No, on the barren mountains let him starve! + For I shall never hold that man my friend + Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost + To ransom home revolted Mortimer. + Hot. Revolted Mortimer? + He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, + But by the chance of war. To prove that true + Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, + Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took + When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, + In single opposition hand to hand, + He did confound the best part of an hour + In changing hardiment with great Glendower. + Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink, + Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; + Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, + Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds + And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank, + Bloodstained with these valiant cohabitants. + Never did base and rotten policy + Colour her working with such deadly wounds; + Nor never could the noble Mortimer + Receive so many, and all willingly. + Then let not him be slandered with revolt. + King. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him! + He never did encounter with Glendower. + I tell thee + He durst as well have met the devil alone + As Owen Glendower for an enemy. + Art thou not asham'd? But, sirrah, henceforth + Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer. + Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, + Or you shall hear in such a kind from me + As will displease you. My Lord Northumberland, + We license your departure with your son.- + Send us your prisoners, or you will hear of it. + Exeunt King, [Blunt, and Train] + Hot. An if the devil come and roar for them, + I will not send them. I will after straight + And tell him so; for I will else my heart, + Albeit I make a hazard of my head. + North. What, drunk with choler? Stay, and pause awhile. + Here comes your uncle. + + Enter Worcester. + + Hot. Speak of Mortimer? + Zounds, I will speak of him, and let my soul + Want mercy if I do not join with him! + Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins, + And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust, + But I will lift the downtrod Mortimer + As high in the air as this unthankful king, + As this ingrate and cank'red Bolingbroke. + North. Brother, the King hath made your nephew mad. + Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone? + Hot. He will (forsooth) have all my prisoners; + And when I urg'd the ransom once again + Of my wive's brother, then his cheek look'd pale, + And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, + Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. + Wor. I cannot blame him. Was not he proclaim'd + By Richard that dead is, the next of blood? + North. He was; I heard the proclamation. + And then it was when the unhappy King + (Whose wrongs in us God pardon!) did set forth + Upon his Irish expedition; + From whence he intercepted did return + To be depos'd, and shortly murdered. + Wor. And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth + Live scandaliz'd and foully spoken of. + Hot. But soft, I pray you. Did King Richard then + Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer + Heir to the crown? + North. He did; myself did hear it. + Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king, + That wish'd him on the barren mountains starve. + But shall it be that you, that set the crown + Upon the head of this forgetful man, + And for his sake wear the detested blot + Of murtherous subornation- shall it be + That you a world of curses undergo, + Being the agents or base second means, + The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? + O, pardon me that I descend so low + To show the line and the predicament + Wherein you range under this subtile king! + Shall it for shame be spoken in these days, + Or fill up chronicles in time to come, + That men of your nobility and power + Did gage them both in an unjust behalf + (As both of you, God pardon it! have done) + To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, + And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke? + And shall it in more shame be further spoken + That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off + By him for whom these shames ye underwent? + No! yet time serves wherein you may redeem + Your banish'd honours and restore yourselves + Into the good thoughts of the world again; + Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt + Of this proud king, who studies day and night + To answer all the debt he owes to you + Even with the bloody payment of your deaths. + Therefore I say- + Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more; + And now, I will unclasp a secret book, + And to your quick-conceiving discontents + I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, + As full of peril and adventurous spirit + As to o'erwalk a current roaring loud + On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. + Hot. If he fall in, good night, or sink or swim! + Send danger from the east unto the west, + So honour cross it from the north to south, + And let them grapple. O, the blood more stirs + To rouse a lion than to start a hare! + North. Imagination of some great exploit + Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. + Hot. By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap + To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon, + Or dive into the bottom of the deep, + Where fadom line could never touch the ground, + And pluck up drowned honour by the locks, + So he that doth redeem her thence might wear + Without corrival all her dignities; + But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship! + Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here, + But not the form of what he should attend. + Good cousin, give me audience for a while. + Hot. I cry you mercy. + Wor. Those same noble Scots + That are your prisoners- + Hot. I'll keep them all. + By God, he shall not have a Scot of them! + No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not. + I'll keep them, by this hand! + Wor. You start away. + And lend no ear unto my purposes. + Those prisoners you shall keep. + Hot. Nay, I will! That is flat! + He said he would not ransom Mortimer, + Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer, + But I will find him when he lies asleep, + And in his ear I'll holloa 'Mortimer.' + Nay; + I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak + Nothing but 'Mortimer,' and give it him + To keep his anger still in motion. + Wor. Hear you, cousin, a word. + Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy + Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke; + And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales- + But that I think his father loves him not + And would be glad he met with some mischance, + I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale. + Wor. Farewell, kinsman. I will talk to you + When you are better temper'd to attend. + North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool + Art thou to break into this woman's mood, + Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own! + Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods, + Nettled, and stung with pismires when I hear + Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke. + In Richard's time- what do you call the place- + A plague upon it! it is in GIoucestershire- + 'Twas where the madcap Duke his uncle kept- + His uncle York- where I first bow'd my knee + Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke- + 'S blood! + When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh- + North. At Berkeley Castle. + Hot. You say true. + Why, what a candy deal of courtesy + This fawning greyhound then did proffer me! + Look, 'when his infant fortune came to age,' + And 'gentle Harry Percy,' and 'kind cousin'- + O, the devil take such cozeners!- God forgive me! + Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done. + Wor. Nay, if you have not, to it again. + We will stay your leisure. + Hot. I have done, i' faith. + Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. + Deliver them up without their ransom straight, + And make the Douglas' son your only mean + For powers In Scotland; which, for divers reasons + Which I shall send you written, be assur'd + Will easily be granted. [To Northumberland] You, my lord, + Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd, + Shall secretly into the bosom creep + Of that same noble prelate well-belov'd, + The Archbishop. + Hot. Of York, is it not? + Wor. True; who bears hard + His brother's death at Bristow, the Lord Scroop. + I speak not this in estimation, + As what I think might be, but what I know + Is ruminated, plotted, and set down, + And only stays but to behold the face + Of that occasion that shall bring it on. + Hot. I smell it. Upon my life, it will do well. + North. Before the game is afoot thou still let'st slip. + Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot. + And then the power of Scotland and of York + To join with Mortimer, ha? + Wor. And so they shall. + Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. + Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, + To save our heads by raising of a head; + For, bear ourselves as even as we can, + The King will always think him in our debt, + And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, + Till he hath found a time to pay us home. + And see already how he doth begin + To make us strangers to his looks of love. + Hot. He does, he does! We'll be reveng'd on him. + Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this + Than I by letters shall direct your course. + When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, + I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer, + Where you and Douglas, and our pow'rs at once, + As I will fashion it, shall happily meet, + To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, + Which now we hold at much uncertainty. + North. Farewell, good brother. We shall thrive, I trust. + Hot. Uncle, adieu. O, let the hours be short + Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport! Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. Scene I. +Rochester. An inn yard. + +Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand. + + 1. Car. Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd. + Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not + pack'd.- What, ostler! + Ost. [within] Anon, anon. + 1. Car. I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in the + point. Poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess. + + Enter another Carrier. + + 2. Car. Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the + next way to give poor jades the bots. This house is turned upside + down since Robin Ostler died. + 1. Car. Poor fellow never joyed since the price of oats rose. It + was the death of him. + 2. Car. I think this be the most villanous house in all London road + for fleas. I am stung like a tench. + 1. Car. Like a tench I By the mass, there is ne'er a king christen + could be better bit than I have been since the first cock. + 2. Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan, and then we leak in + your chimney, and your chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach. + 1. Car. What, ostler! come away and be hang'd! come away! + 2. Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be + delivered as far as Charing Cross. + 1. Car. God's body! the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved. + What, ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy + head? Canst not hear? An 'twere not as good deed as drink to + break the pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hang'd! + Hast no faith in thee? + + Enter Gadshill. + + Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock? + 1. Car. I think it be two o'clock. + Gads. I prithee lend me this lantern to see my gelding in the + stable. + 1. Car. Nay, by God, soft! I know a trick worth two of that, + i' faith. + Gads. I pray thee lend me thine. + 2. Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth he? Marry, + I'll see thee hang'd first! + Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London? + 2. Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee. + Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call up the gentlemen. They will + along with company, for they have great charge. + Exeunt [Carriers]. + Gads. What, ho! chamberlain! + + Enter Chamberlain. + + Cham. At hand, quoth pickpurse. + Gads. That's even as fair as- 'at hand, quoth the chamberlain'; for + thou variest no more from picking of purses than giving direction + doth from labouring: thou layest the plot how. + Cham. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that I told + you yesternight. There's a franklin in the Wild of Kent hath + brought three hundred marks with him in gold. I heard him tell it + to one of his company last night at supper- a kind of auditor; + one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. They are + up already and call for eggs and butter. They will away + presently. + Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' clerks, I'll + give thee this neck. + Cham. No, I'll none of it. I pray thee keep that for the hangman; + for I know thou worshippest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of + falsehood may. + Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If I hang, I'll make + a fat pair of gallows; for if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me, + and thou knowest he is no starveling. Tut! there are other + Troyans that thou dream'st not of, the which for sport sake are + content to do the profession some grace; that would (if matters + should be look'd into) for their own credit sake make all whole. + I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny + strikers, none of these mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms; but + with nobility, and tranquillity, burgomasters and great oneyers, + such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than speak, and + speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray; and yet, + zounds, I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the + commonwealth, or rather, not pray to her, but prey on her, for + they ride up and down on her and make her their boots. + Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? Will she hold out water + in foul way? + Gads. She will, she will! Justice hath liquor'd her. We steal as in + a castle, cocksure. We have the receipt of fernseed, we walk + invisible. + Cham. Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the night + than to fernseed for your walking invisible. + Gads. Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in our purchase, as + I and a true man. + Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief. + Gads. Go to; 'homo' is a common name to all men. Bid the ostler + bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy knave. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +The highway near Gadshill. + +Enter Prince and Poins. + + Poins. Come, shelter, shelter! I have remov'd Falstaff's horse, and + he frets like a gumm'd velvet. + Prince. Stand close. [They step aside.] + + Enter Falstaff. + + Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hang'd! Poins! + Prince. I comes forward I Peace, ye fat-kidney'd rascal! What a + brawling dost thou keep! + Fal. Where's Poins, Hal? + Prince. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill. I'll go seek him. + [Steps aside.] + Fal. I am accurs'd to rob in that thief's company. The rascal hath + removed my horse and tied him I know not where. If I travel but + four foot by the squire further afoot, I shall break my wind. + Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I + scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company + hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I am bewitch'd + with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me + medicines to make me love him, I'll be hang'd. It could not be + else. I have drunk medicines. Poins! Hal! A plague upon you both! + Bardolph! Peto! I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. An + 'twere not as good a deed as drink to turn true man and to leave + these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a + tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground is threescore and ten miles + afoot with me, and the stony-hearted villains know it well + enough. A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to + another! (They whistle.) Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my + horse, you rogues! give me my horse and be hang'd! + Prince. [comes forward] Peace, ye fat-guts! Lie down, lay thine ear + close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of + travellers. + Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood, + I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin + in thy father's exchequer. What a plague mean ye to colt me thus? + Prince. Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted. + Fal. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king's + son. + Prince. Out, ye rogue! Shall I be your ostler? + Fal. Go hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters! If I be + ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you + all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison. + When a jest is so forward- and afoot too- I hate it. + + Enter Gadshill, [Bardolph and Peto with him]. + + Gads. Stand! + Fal. So I do, against my will. + Poins. [comes fortward] O, 'tis our setter. I know his voice. + Bardolph, what news? + Bar. Case ye, case ye! On with your vizards! There's money of the + King's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the King's exchequer. + Fal. You lie, ye rogue! 'Tis going to the King's tavern. + Gads. There's enough to make us all. + Fal. To be hang'd. + Prince. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; Ned + Poins and I will walk lower. If they scape from your encounter, + then they light on us. + Peto. How many be there of them? + Gads. Some eight or ten. + Fal. Zounds, will they not rob us? + Prince. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch? + Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; but yet no + coward, Hal. + Prince. Well, we leave that to the proof. + Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge. When thou + need'st him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell and stand fast. + Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd. + Prince. [aside to Poins] Ned, where are our disguises? + Poins. [aside to Prince] Here, hard by. Stand close. + [Exeunt Prince and Poins.] + Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I. Every man to + his business. + + Enter the Travellers. + + Traveller. Come, neighbour. + The boy shall lead our horses down the hill; + We'll walk afoot awhile and ease our legs. + Thieves. Stand! + Traveller. Jesus bless us! + Fal. Strike! down with them! cut the villains' throats! Ah, + whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth. Down + with them! fleece them! + Traveller. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever! + Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye undone? No, ye fat chuffs; + I would your store were here! On, bacons on! What, ye knaves! + young men must live. You are grandjurors, are ye? We'll jure ye, + faith! + Here they rob and bind them. Exeunt. + + Enter the Prince and Poins [in buckram suits]. + + Prince. The thieves have bound the true men. Now could thou and I + rob the thieves and go merrily to London, it would be argument + for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. + Poins. Stand close! I hear them coming. + [They stand aside.] + + Enter the Thieves again. + + Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day. + An the Prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no + equity stirring. There's no more valour in that Poins than in a + wild duck. + + [As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon + them. THey all run away, and Falstaff, after a blow or + two, runs awasy too, leaving the booty behind them.] + + Prince. Your money! + Poins. Villains! + + Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse. + The thieves are scattered, and possess'd with fear + So strongly that they dare not meet each other. + Each takes his fellow for an officer. + Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death + And lards the lean earth as he walks along. + Were't not for laughing, I should pity him. + Poins. How the rogue roar'd! Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Warkworth Castle. + +Enter Hotspur solus, reading a letter. + + Hot. 'But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to + be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.' He could be + contented- why is he not then? In respect of the love he bears + our house! He shows in this he loves his own barn better than he + loves our house. Let me see some more. 'The purpose you undertake + is dangerous'- Why, that's certain! 'Tis dangerous to take a + cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of + this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. 'The purpose + you undertake is dangerous, the friends you have named uncertain, + the time itself unsorted, and your whole plot too light for the + counterpoise of so great an opposition.' Say you so, say you so? + I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you + lie. What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good + plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant: a good + plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, + very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this! Why, my + Lord of York commends the plot and the general course of the + action. Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain him + with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and + myself; Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen + Glendower? Is there not, besides, the Douglas? Have I not all + their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month, + and are they not some of them set forward already? What a pagan + rascal is this! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very + sincerity of fear and cold heart will he to the King and lay open + all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself and go to buffets + for moving such a dish of skim milk with so honourable an action! + Hang him, let him tell the King! we are prepared. I will set + forward to-night. + + Enter his Lady. + + How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two hours. + Lady. O my good lord, why are you thus alone? + For what offence have I this fortnight been + A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed, + Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee + Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? + Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth, + And start so often when thou sit'st alone? + Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks + And given my treasures and my rights of thee + To thick-ey'd musing and curs'd melancholy? + In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd, + And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars, + Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed, + Cry 'Courage! to the field!' And thou hast talk'd + Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tent, + Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, + Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, + Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, + And all the currents of a heady fight. + Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, + And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, + That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow + Like bubbles ill a late-disturbed stream, + And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, + Such as we see when men restrain their breath + On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these? + Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, + And I must know it, else he loves me not. + Hot. What, ho! + + [Enter a Servant.] + + Is Gilliams with the packet gone? + Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago. + Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff? + Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. + Hot. What horse? A roan, a crop-ear, is it not? + Serv. It is, my lord. + Hot. That roan shall be my throne. + Well, I will back him straight. O esperance! + Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. + [Exit Servant.] + Lady. But hear you, my lord. + Hot. What say'st thou, my lady? + Lady. What is it carries you away? + Hot. Why, my horse, my love- my horse! + Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape! + A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen + As you are toss'd with. In faith, + I'll know your business, Harry; that I will! + I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir + About his title and hath sent for you + To line his enterprise; but if you go- + Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. + Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me + Directly unto this question that I ask. + I'll break thy little finger, Harry, + An if thou wilt not tell my all things true. + Hot. Away. + Away, you trifler! Love? I love thee not; + I care not for thee, Kate. This is no world + To play with mammets and to tilt with lips. + We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns, + And pass them current too. Gods me, my horse! + What say'st thou, Kate? What wouldst thou have with me? + Lady. Do you not love me? do you not indeed? + Well, do not then; for since you love me not, + I will not love myself. Do you not love me? + Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no. + Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride? + And when I am a-horseback, I will swear + I love thee infinitely. But hark you. Kate: + I must not have you henceforth question me + Whither I go, nor reason whereabout. + Whither I must, I must; and to conclude, + This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. + I know you wise; but yet no farther wise + Than Harry Percy's wife; constant you are, + But yet a woman; and for secrecy, + No lady closer, for I well believe + Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know, + And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate. + Lady. How? so far? + Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate: + Whither I go, thither shall you go too; + To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you. + Will this content you, Kate,? + Lady. It must of force. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +Eastcheap. The Boar's Head Tavern. + +Enter Prince and Poins. + + Prince. Ned, prithee come out of that fat-room and lend me thy hand + to laugh a little. + Poins. Where hast been, Hal? + Prince,. With three or four loggerheads amongst three or + fourscore hogsheads. I have sounded the very bass-string of + humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers and + can call them all by their christen names, as Tom, Dick, and + Francis. They take it already upon their salvation that, though + I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy; and tell + me flatly I am no proud Jack like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a + lad of mettle, a good boy (by the Lord, so they call me!), and + when I am King of England I shall command all the good lads + Eastcheap. They call drinking deep, dying scarlet; and when + you breathe in your watering, they cry 'hem!' and bid you play it + off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an + hour that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during + my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour that thou + wert not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned- to sweeten which + name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapp'd even + now into my hand by an under-skinker, one that never spake other + English in his life than 'Eight shillings and sixpence,' and 'You + are welcome,' with this shrill addition, 'Anon, anon, sir! Score + a pint of bastard in the Half-moon,' or so- but, Ned, to drive + away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee do thou stand in some + by-room while I question my puny drawer to what end be gave me + the sugar; and do thou never leave calling 'Francis!' that his + tale to me may be nothing but 'Anon!' Step aside, and I'll show + thee a precedent. + Poins. Francis! + Prince. Thou art perfect. + Poins. Francis! [Exit Poins.] + + Enter [Francis, a] Drawer. + + Fran. Anon, anon, sir.- Look down into the Pomgarnet, Ralph. + Prince. Come hither, Francis. + Fran. My lord? + Prince. How long hast thou to serve, Francis? + Fran. Forsooth, five years, and as much as to- + Poins. [within] Francis! + Fran. Anon, anon, sir. + Prince. Five year! by'r Lady, a long lease for the clinking of + Pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant as to play the + coward with thy indenture and show it a fair pair of heels and + run from it? + Fran. O Lord, sir, I'll be sworn upon all the books in England I + could find in my heart- + Poins. [within] Francis! + Fran. Anon, sir. + Prince. How old art thou, Francis? + Fran. Let me see. About Michaelmas next I shall be- + Poins. [within] Francis! + Fran. Anon, sir. Pray stay a little, my lord. + Prince. Nay, but hark you, Francis. For the sugar thou gavest me- + 'twas a pennyworth, wast not? + Fran. O Lord! I would it had been two! + Prince. I will give thee for it a thousand pound. Ask me when thou + wilt, and, thou shalt have it. + Poins. [within] Francis! + Fran. Anon, anon. + Prince. Anon, Francis? No, Francis; but to-morrow, Francis; or, + Francis, a Thursday; or indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But + Francis- + Fran. My lord? + Prince. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, + not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, + smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch- + Fran. O Lord, sir, who do you mean? + Prince. Why then, your brown bastard is your only drink; for look + you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully. In Barbary, + sir, it cannot come to so much. + Fran. What, sir? + Poins. [within] Francis! + Prince. Away, you rogue! Dost thou not hear them call? + Here they both call him. The Drawer stands amazed, + not knowing which way to go. + + Enter Vintner. + + Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? Look + to the guests within. [Exit Francis.] My lord, old Sir John, with + half-a-dozen more, are at the door. Shall I let them in? + Prince. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. + [Exit Vintner.] + Poins! + Poins. [within] Anon, anon, sir. + + Enter Poins. + + Prince. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the + door. Shall we be merry? + Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye; what cunning + match have you made with this jest of the drawer? Come, what's + the issue? + Prince. I am now of all humours that have showed themselves humours + since the old days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this + present this twelve o'clock at midnight. + + [Enter Francis.] + + What's o'clock, Francis? + Fran. Anon, anon, sir. [Exit.] + Prince. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a + parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is upstairs and + downstairs, his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet + of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the North; he that kills me some + six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and + says to his wife, 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.' 'O my + sweet Harry,' says she, 'how many hast thou kill'd to-day?' + 'Give my roan horse a drench,' says he, and answers 'Some + fourteen,' an hour after, 'a trifle, a trifle.' I prithee call in + Falstaff. I'll play Percy, and that damn'd brawn shall play Dame + Mortimer his wife. 'Rivo!' says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call + in tallow. + + Enter Falstaff, [Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto; + Francis follows with wine]. + + Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? + Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! Marry and + amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'll + sew nether-stocks, and mend them and foot them too. A plague of + all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue + extant? + He drinketh. + Prince. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? + Pitiful-hearted butter, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun! + If thou didst, then behold that compound. + Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too! There is nothing but + roguery to be found in villanous man. Yet a coward is worse than + a cup of sack with lime in it- a villanous coward! Go thy ways, + old Jack, die when thou wilt; if manhood, good manhood, be not + forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. + There lives not three good men unhang'd in England; and one of + them is fat, and grows old. God help the while! A bad world, I + say. I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or anything. A + plague of all cowards I say still! + Prince. How now, woolsack? What mutter you? + Fal. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a + dagger of lath and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock + of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince + of Wales? + Prince. Why, you whoreson round man, what's the matter? + Fal. Are not you a coward? Answer me to that- and Poins there? + Poins. Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, by the + Lord, I'll stab thee. + Fal. I call thee coward? I'll see thee damn'd ere I call thee + coward, but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as + thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders; you care + not who sees Your back. Call you that backing of your friends? A + plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me. Give me + a cup of sack. I am a rogue if I drunk to-day. + Prince. O villain! thy lips are scarce wip'd since thou drunk'st + last. + Fal. All is one for that. (He drinketh.) A plague of all cowards + still say I. + Prince. What's the matter? + Fal. What's the matter? There be four of us here have ta'en a + thousand pound this day morning. + Prince. Where is it, Jack? Where is it? + Fal. Where is it, Taken from us it is. A hundred upon poor four of + us! + Prince. What, a hundred, man? + Fal. I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them + two hours together. I have scap'd by miracle. I am eight times + thrust through the doublet, four through the hose; my buckler cut + through and through; my sword hack'd like a handsaw- ecce signum! + I never dealt better since I was a man. All would not do. A + plague of all cowards! Let them speak, If they speak more or less + than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness. + Prince. Speak, sirs. How was it? + Gads. We four set upon some dozen- + Fal. Sixteen at least, my lord. + Gads. And bound them. + Peto. No, no, they were not bound. + Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or I am a Jew + else- an Ebrew Jew. + Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men sea upon us- + Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in the other. + Prince. What, fought you with them all? + Fal. All? I know not what you call all, but if I fought not with + fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish! If there were not two or + three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legg'd + creature. + Prince. Pray God you have not murd'red some of them. + Fal. Nay, that's past praying for. I have pepper'd two of them. Two + I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee + what, Hal- if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. + Thou knowest my old ward. Here I lay, and thus I bore my point. + Four rogues in buckram let drive at me. + Prince. What, four? Thou saidst but two even now. + Fal. Four, Hal. I told thee four. + Poins. Ay, ay, he said four. + Fal. These four came all afront and mainly thrust at me. I made me + no more ado but took all their seven points in my target, thus. + Prince. Seven? Why, there were but four even now. + Fal. In buckram? + Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits. + Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. + Prince. [aside to Poins] Prithee let him alone. We shall have more + anon. + Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal? + Prince. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. + Fal. Do so, for it is worth the list'ning to. These nine in buckram + that I told thee of- + Prince. So, two more already. + Fal. Their points being broken- + Poins. Down fell their hose. + Fal. Began to give me ground; but I followed me close, came in, + foot and hand, and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid. + Prince. O monstrous! Eleven buckram men grown out of two! + Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves in + Kendal green came at my back and let drive at me; for it was so + dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. + Prince. These lies are like their father that begets them- gross as + a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brain'd guts, thou + knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson obscene greasy tallow-catch- + Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? Is not the truth the truth? + Prince. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green when + it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your + reason. What sayest thou to this? + Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. + Fal. What, upon compulsion? Zounds, an I were at the strappado or + all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. + Give you a reason on compulsion? If reasons were as plentiful as + blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I. + Prince. I'll be no longer guilty, of this sin; this sanguine + coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill + of flesh- + Fal. 'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried + neat's-tongue, you bull's sizzle, you stockfish- O for breath to + utter what is like thee!- you tailor's yard, you sheath, you + bowcase, you vile standing tuck! + Prince. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again; and when thou + hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this. + Poins. Mark, Jack. + Prince. We two saw you four set on four, and bound them and were + masters of their wealth. Mark now how a plain tale shall put you + down. Then did we two set on you four and, with a word, outfac'd + you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here + in the house. And, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as + nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roar'd for mercy, and still + run and roar'd, as ever I heard bullcalf. What a slave art thou + to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in + fight! What trick, what device, what starting hole canst thou now + find out to hide thee from this open and apparent shame? + Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack. What trick hast thou now? + Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why, hear + you, my masters. Was it for me to kill the heir apparent? Should + I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as + Hercules; but beware instinct. The lion will not touch the true + prince. Instinct is a great matter. I was now a coward on + instinct. I shall think the better of myself, and thee, during my + life- I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by + the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap to + the doors. Watch to-night, pray to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, + hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! + What, shall we be merry? Shall we have a play extempore? + Prince. Content- and the argument shall be thy running away. + Fal. Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me! + + Enter Hostess. + + Host. O Jesu, my lord the Prince! + Prince. How now, my lady the hostess? What say'st thou to me? + Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at door + would speak with you. He says he comes from your father. + Prince. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and send him + back again to my mother. + Fal. What manner of man is he? + Host. An old man. + Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall I give him + his answer? + Prince. Prithee do, Jack. + Fal. Faith, and I'll send him packing. +Exit. + Prince. Now, sirs. By'r Lady, you fought fair; so did you, Peto; so + did you, Bardolph. You are lions too, you ran away upon instinct, + you will not touch the true prince; no- fie! + Bard. Faith, I ran when I saw others run. + Prince. Tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff's sword so + hack'd? + Peto. Why, he hack'd it with his dagger, and said he would swear + truth out of England but he would make you believe it was done in + fight, and persuaded us to do the like. + Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with speargrass to make them + bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it and swear it + was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seven year + before- I blush'd to hear his monstrous devices. + Prince. O villain! thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago + and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blush'd + extempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou + ran'st away. What instinct hadst thou for it? + Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you behold these + exhalations? + Prince. I do. + Bard. What think you they portend? + Prince. Hot livers and cold purses. + Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. + Prince. No, if rightly taken, halter. + + Enter Falstaff. + + Here comes lean Jack; here comes bare-bone. How now, my sweet + creature of bombast? How long is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest + thine own knee? + Fal. My own knee? When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an + eagle's talent in the waist; I could have crept into any + alderman's thumb-ring. A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a + man up like a bladder. There's villanous news abroad. Here was + Sir John Bracy from your father. You must to the court in the + morning. That same mad fellow of the North, Percy, and he of + Wales that gave Amamon the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, + and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh + hook- what a plague call you him? + Poins. O, Glendower. + Fal. Owen, Owen- the same; and his son-in-law Mortimer, and old + Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that + runs a-horseback up a hill perpendicular- + Prince. He that rides at high speed and with his pistol kills a + sparrow flying. + Fal. You have hit it. + Prince. So did he never the sparrow. + Fal. Well, that rascal hath good metal in him; he will not run. + Prince. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so for + running! + Fal. A-horseback, ye cuckoo! but afoot he will not budge a foot. + Prince. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. + Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one + Mordake, and a thousand bluecaps more. Worcester is stol'n away + to-night; thy father's beard is turn'd white with the news; you + may buy land now as cheap as stinking mack'rel. + Prince. Why then, it is like, if there come a hot June, and this + civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy + hobnails, by the hundreds. + Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it is like we shall have + good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, art not thou horrible + afeard? Thou being heir apparent, could the world pick thee out + three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit + Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid? + Doth not thy blood thrill at it? + Prince. Not a whit, i' faith. I lack some of thy instinct. + Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow when thou comest to + thy father. If thou love file, practise an answer. + Prince. Do thou stand for my father and examine me upon the + particulars of my life. + Fal. Shall I? Content. This chair shall be my state, this dagger my + sceptre, and this cushion my, crown. + Prince. Thy state is taken for a join'd-stool, thy golden sceptre + for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful + bald crown. + Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt + thou be moved. Give me a cup of sack to make my eyes look red, + that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion, + and I will do it in King Cambyses' vein. + Prince. Well, here is my leg. + Fal. And here is my speech. Stand aside, nobility. + Host. O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i' faith! + Fal. Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain. + Host. O, the Father, how he holds his countenance! + Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen! + For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes. + Host. O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as + ever I see! + Fal. Peace, good pintpot. Peace, good tickle-brain.- Harry, I do + not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou + art accompanied. For though the camomile, the more it is trodden + on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the + sooner it wears. That thou art my son I have partly thy mother's + word, partly my own opinion, but chiefly a villanous trick of + thine eye and a foolish hanging of thy nether lip that doth + warrant me. If then thou be son to me, here lies the point: why, + being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of + heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries? A question not to be + ask'd. Shall the son of England prove a thief and take purses? A + question to be ask'd. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast + often heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name + of pitch. This pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; + so doth the company thou keepest. For, Harry, now I do not speak + to thee in drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in passion; + not in words only, but in woes also: and yet there is a virtuous + man whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his + name. + Prince. What manner of man, an it like your Majesty? + Fal. A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful + look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, + his age some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threescore; and + now I remember me, his name is Falstaff. If that man should be + lewdly, given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his + looks. If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit + by the tree, then, peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in + that Falstaff. Him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, + thou naughty varlet, tell me where hast thou been this month? + Prince. Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and I'll + play my father. + Fal. Depose me? If thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically, + both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a + rabbit-sucker or a poulter's hare. + Prince. Well, here I am set. + Fal. And here I stand. Judge, my masters. + Prince. Now, Harry, whence come you? + Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap. + Prince. The complaints I hear of thee are grievous. + Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false! Nay, I'll tickle ye for a + young prince, i' faith. + Prince. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? Henceforth ne'er look on me. + Thou art violently carried away from grace. There is a devil + haunts thee in the likeness of an old fat man; a tun of man is + thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, + that bolting hutch of beastliness, that swoll'n parcel of + dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuff'd cloakbag of + guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, + that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that + vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink + it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? + wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villany? + wherein villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in + nothing? + Fal. I would your Grace would take me with you. Whom means your + Grace? + Prince. That villanous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff, + that old white-bearded Satan. + Fal. My lord, the man I know. + Prince. I know thou dost. + Fal. But to say I know more harm in him than in myself were to say + more than I know. That he is old (the more the pity) his white + hairs do witness it; but that he is (saving your reverence) a + whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, + God help the wicked! If to be old and merry be a sin, then many + an old host that I know is damn'd. If to be fat be to be hated, + then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord. + Banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins; but for sweet Jack + Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack + Falstaff, and therefore more valiant being, as he is, old Jack + Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company, banish not him thy + Harry's company. Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world! + Prince. I do, I will. [A knocking heard.] + [Exeunt Hostess, Francis, and Bardolph.] + + Enter Bardolph, running. + + Bard. O, my lord, my lord! the sheriff with a most monstrous watch + is at the door. + Fal. Out, ye rogue! Play out the play. I have much to say in the + behalf of that Falstaff. + + Enter the Hostess. + + Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord! + Prince. Heigh, heigh, the devil rides upon a fiddlestick! + What's the matter? + Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at the door. They are come + to search the house. Shall I let them in? + Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? Never call a true piece of gold a + counterfeit. Thou art essentially mad without seeming so. + Prince. And thou a natural coward without instinct. + Fal. I deny your major. If you will deny the sheriff, so; if not, + let him enter. If I become not a cart as well as another man, a + plague on my bringing up! I hope I shall as soon be strangled + with a halter as another. + Prince. Go hide thee behind the arras. The rest walk, up above. + Now, my masters, for a true face and good conscience. + Fal. Both which I have had; but their date is out, and therefore + I'll hide me. Exit. + Prince. Call in the sheriff. + [Exeunt Manent the Prince and Peto.] + + Enter Sheriff and the Carrier. + + Now, Master Sheriff, what is your will with me? + Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry + Hath followed certain men unto this house. + Prince. What men? + Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious lord- + A gross fat man. + Carrier. As fat as butter. + Prince. The man, I do assure you, is not here, + For I myself at this time have employ'd him. + And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee + That I will by to-morrow dinner time + Send him to answer thee, or any man, + For anything he shall be charg'd withal; + And so let me entreat you leave the house. + Sher. I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen + Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks. + Prince. It may be so. If he have robb'd these men, + He shall be answerable; and so farewell. + Sher. Good night, my noble lord. + Prince. I think it is good morrow, is it not? + Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. + Exit [with Carrier]. + Prince. This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's. Go call him + forth. + Peto. Falstaff! Fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting like a + horse. + Prince. Hark how hard he fetches breath. Search his pockets. + He searcheth his pockets and findeth certain papers. + What hast thou found? + Peto. Nothing but papers, my lord. + Prince. Let's see whit they be. Read them. + + Peto. [reads] 'Item. A capon. . . . . . . . . . . . . ii s. ii d. + Item, Sauce. . . . . . . . . . . . . . iiii d. + Item, Sack two gallons . . . . . . . . v s. viii d. + Item, Anchovies and sack after supper. ii s. vi d. + Item, Bread. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ob.' + + Prince. O monstrous! but one halfpennyworth of bread to this + intolerable deal of sack! What there is else, keep close; we'll + read it at more advantage. There let him sleep till day. I'll to + the court in the morning . We must all to the wars. and thy place + shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of + foot; and I know, his death will be a march of twelve score. The + money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes + in the morning, and so good morrow, Peto. + Peto. Good morrow, good my lord. + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. Scene I. +Bangor. The Archdeacon's house. + +Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower. + + Mort. These promises are fair, the parties sure, + And our induction full of prosperous hope. + Hot. Lord Mortimer, and cousin Glendower, + Will you sit down? + And uncle Worcester. A plague upon it! + I have forgot the map. + Glend. No, here it is. + Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur, + For by that name as oft as Lancaster + Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and with + A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven. + Hot. And you in hell, as oft as he hears + Owen Glendower spoke of. + Glend. I cannot blame him. At my nativity + The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes + Of burning cressets, and at my birth + The frame and huge foundation of the earth + Shak'd like a coward. + Hot. Why, so it would have done at the same season, if your + mother's cat had but kitten'd, though yourself had never been + born. + Glend. I say the earth did shake when I was born. + Hot. And I say the earth was not of my mind, + If you suppose as fearing you it shook. + Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble. + Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire, + And not in fear of your nativity. + Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth + In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth + Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd + By the imprisoning of unruly wind + Within her womb, which, for enlargement striving, + Shakes the old beldame earth and topples down + Steeples and mossgrown towers. At your birth + Our grandam earth, having this distemp'rature, + In passion shook. + Glend. Cousin, of many men + I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave + To tell you once again that at my birth + The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, + The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds + Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. + These signs have mark'd me extraordinary, + And all the courses of my life do show + I am not in the roll of common men. + Where is he living, clipp'd in with the sea + That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales, + Which calls me pupil or hath read to me? + And bring him out that is but woman's son + Can trace me in the tedious ways of art + And hold me pace in deep experiments. + Hot. I think there's no man speaks better Welsh. I'll to dinner. + Mort. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad. + Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. + Hot. Why, so can I, or so can any man; + But will they come when you do call for them? + Glend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the devil. + Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil- + By telling truth. Tell truth and shame the devil. + If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, + And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence. + O, while you live, tell truth and shame the devil! + Mort. Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat. + Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head + Against my power; thrice from the banks of Wye + And sandy-bottom'd Severn have I sent him + Bootless home and weather-beaten back. + Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather too? + How scapes he agues, in the devil's name + Glend. Come, here's the map. Shall we divide our right + According to our threefold order ta'en? + Mort. The Archdeacon hath divided it + Into three limits very equally. + England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, + By south and east is to my part assign'd; + All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore, + And all the fertile land within that bound, + To Owen Glendower; and, dear coz, to you + The remnant northward lying off from Trent. + And our indentures tripartite are drawn; + Which being sealed interchangeably + (A business that this night may execute), + To-morrow, cousin Percy, you and I + And my good Lord of Worcester will set forth + To meet your father and the Scottish bower, + As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. + My father Glendower is not ready yet, + Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days. + [To Glend.] Within that space you may have drawn together + Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen. + Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords; + And in my conduct shall your ladies come, + From whom you now must steal and take no leave, + For there will be a world of water shed + Upon the parting of your wives and you. + Hot. Methinks my moiety, north from Burton here, + In quantity equals not one of yours. + See how this river comes me cranking in + And cuts me from the best of all my land + A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out. + I'll have the current ill this place damm'd up, + And here the smug and sliver Trent shall run + In a new channel fair and evenly. + It shall not wind with such a deep indent + To rob me of so rich a bottom here. + Glend. Not wind? It shall, it must! You see it doth. + Mort. Yea, but + Mark how he bears his course, and runs me up + With like advantage on the other side, + Gelding the opposed continent as much + As on the other side it takes from you. + Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him here + And on this north side win this cape of land; + And then he runs straight and even. + Hot. I'll have it so. A little charge will do it. + Glend. I will not have it alt'red. + Hot. Will not you? + Glend. No, nor you shall not. + Hot. Who shall say me nay? + Glend. No, that will I. + Hot. Let me not understand you then; speak it in Welsh. + Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you; + For I was train'd up in the English court, + Where, being but young, I framed to the harp + Many an English ditty lovely well, + And gave the tongue a helpful ornament- + A virtue that was never seen in you. + Hot. Marry, + And I am glad of it with all my heart! + I had rather be a kitten and cry mew + Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers. + I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd + Or a dry wheel grate on the axletree, + And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, + Nothing so much as mincing poetry. + 'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag, + Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd. + Hot. I do not care. I'll give thrice so much land + To any well-deserving friend; + But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, + I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair + Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone? + Glend. The moon shines fair; you may away by night. + I'll haste the writer, and withal + Break with your wives of your departure hence. + I am afraid my daughter will run mad, + So much she doteth on her Mortimer. Exit. + Mort. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my father! + Hot. I cannot choose. Sometimes he angers me + With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant, + Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies, + And of a dragon and a finless fish, + A clip-wing'd griffin and a moulten raven, + A couching lion and a ramping cat, + And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff + As puts me from my faith. I tell you what- + He held me last night at least nine hours + In reckoning up the several devils' names + That were his lackeys. I cried 'hum,' and 'Well, go to!' + But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious + As a tired horse, a railing wife; + Worse than a smoky house. I had rather live + With cheese and garlic in a windmill far + Than feed on cates and have him talk to me + In any summer house in Christendom). + Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman, + Exceedingly well read, and profited + In strange concealments, valiant as a lion, + And wondrous affable, and as bountiful + As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? + He holds your temper in a high respect + And curbs himself even of his natural scope + When you come 'cross his humour. Faith, he does. + I warrant you that man is not alive + Might so have tempted him as you have done + Without the taste of danger and reproof. + But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. + Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame, + And since your coming hither have done enough + To put him quite besides his patience. + You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault. + Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood- + And that's the dearest grace it renders you- + Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, + Defect of manners, want of government, + Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain; + The least of which haunting a nobleman + Loseth men's hearts, and leaves behind a stain + Upon the beauty of all parts besides, + Beguiling them of commendation. + Hot. Well, I am school'd. Good manners be your speed! + Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. + + Enter Glendower with the Ladies. + + Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers me- + My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. + Glend. My daughter weeps; she will not part with you; + She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. + Mort. Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy + Shall follow in your conduct speedily. + Glendower speaks to her in Welsh, and she answers + him in the same. + Glend. She is desperate here. A peevish self-will'd harlotry, + One that no persuasion can do good upon. + The Lady speaks in Welsh. + Mort. I understand thy looks. That pretty Welsh + Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens + I am too perfect in; and, but for shame, + In such a Barley should I answer thee. + The Lady again in Welsh. + I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, + And that's a feeling disputation. + But I will never be a truant, love, + Till I have learnt thy language: for thy tongue + Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, + Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bow'r, + With ravishing division, to her lute. + Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. + The Lady speaks again in Welsh. + Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this! + Glend. She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down + And rest your gentle head upon her lap, + And she will sing the song that pleaseth you + And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, + Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, + Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep + As is the difference betwixt day and night + The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team + Begins his golden progress in the East. + Mort. With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing. + By that time will our book, I think, be drawn. + Glend. Do so, + And those musicians that shall play to you + Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, + And straight they shall be here. Sit, and attend. + Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down. Come, quick, + quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap. + Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. + The music plays. + Hot. Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh; + And 'tis no marvel, be is so humorous. + By'r Lady, he is a good musician. + Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical; for you are + altogether govern'd by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the + lady sing in Welsh. + Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish. + Lady P. Wouldst thou have thy head broken? + Hot. No. + Lady P. Then be still. + Hot. Neither! 'Tis a woman's fault. + Lady P. Now God help thee! + Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed. + Lady P. What's that? + Hot. Peace! she sings. + Here the Lady sings a Welsh song. + Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. + Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth. + Hot. Not yours, in good sooth? Heart! you swear like a + comfit-maker's wife. 'Not you, in good sooth!' and 'as true as I + live!' and 'as God shall mend me!' and 'as sure as day!' + And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths + As if thou ne'er walk'st further than Finsbury. + Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, + A good mouth-filling oath; and leave 'in sooth' + And such protest of pepper gingerbread + To velvet guards and Sunday citizens. Come, sing. + Lady P. I will not sing. + Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor or be redbreast-teacher. An + the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours; and so + come in when ye will. Exit. + Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer. You are as slow + As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go. + By this our book is drawn; we'll but seal, + And then to horse immediately. + Mort. With all my heart. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +London. The Palace. + +Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others. + + King. Lords, give us leave. The Prince of Wales and I + Must have some private conference; but be near at hand, + For we shall presently have need of you. + Exeunt Lords. + I know not whether God will have it so, + For some displeasing service I have done, + That, in his secret doom, out of my blood + He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me; + But thou dost in thy passages of life + Make me believe that thou art only mark'd + For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven + To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, + Could such inordinate and low desires, + Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, + Such barren pleasures, rude society, + As thou art match'd withal and grafted to, + Accompany the greatness of thy blood + And hold their level with thy princely heart? + Prince. So please your Majesty, I would I could + Quit all offences with as clear excuse + As well as I am doubtless I can purge + Myself of many I am charged withal. + Yet such extenuation let me beg + As, in reproof of many tales devis'd, + Which oft the ear of greatness needs must bear + By, smiling pickthanks and base newsmongers, + I may, for some things true wherein my youth + Hath faulty wand'red and irregular, + And pardon on lily true submission. + King. God pardon thee! Yet let me wonder, Harry, + At thy affections, which do hold a wing, + Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. + Thy place in Council thou hast rudely lost, + Which by thy younger brother is supplied, + And art almost an alien to the hearts + Of all the court and princes of my blood. + The hope and expectation of thy time + Is ruin'd, and the soul of every man + Prophetically do forethink thy fall. + Had I so lavish of my presence been, + So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, + So stale and cheap to vulgar company, + Opinion, that did help me to the crown, + Had still kept loyal to possession + And left me in reputeless banishment, + A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. + By being seldom seen, I could not stir + But, like a comet, I Was wond'red at; + That men would tell their children, 'This is he!' + Others would say, 'Where? Which is Bolingbroke?' + And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, + And dress'd myself in such humility + That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, + Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths + Even in the presence of the crowned King. + Thus did I keep my person fresh and new, + My presence, like a robe pontifical, + Ne'er seen but wond'red at; and so my state, + Seldom but sumptuous, show'd like a feast + And won by rareness such solemnity. + The skipping King, he ambled up and down + With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits, + Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state; + Mingled his royalty with cap'ring fools; + Had his great name profaned with their scorns + And gave his countenance, against his name, + To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push + Of every beardless vain comparative; + Grew a companion to the common streets, + Enfeoff'd himself to popularity; + That, being dally swallowed by men's eyes, + They surfeited with honey and began + To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little + More than a little is by much too much. + So, when he had occasion to be seen, + He was but as the cuckoo is in June, + Heard, not regarded- seen, but with such eyes + As, sick and blunted with community, + Afford no extraordinary gaze, + Such as is bent on unlike majesty + When it shines seldom in admiring eyes; + But rather drows'd and hung their eyelids down, + Slept in his face, and rend'red such aspect + As cloudy men use to their adversaries, + Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full. + And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; + For thou hast lost thy princely privilege + With vile participation. Not an eye + But is aweary of thy common sight, + Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more; + Which now doth that I would not have it do- + Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. + Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord, + Be more myself. + King. For all the world, + As thou art to this hour, was Richard then + When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh; + And even as I was then is Percy now. + Now, by my sceptre, and my soul to boot, + He hath more worthy interest to the state + Than thou, the shadow of succession; + For of no right, nor colour like to right, + He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, + Turns head against the lion's armed jaws, + And, Being no more in debt to years than thou, + Leads ancient lords and reverend Bishops on + To bloody battles and to bruising arms. + What never-dying honour hath he got + Against renowmed Douglas! whose high deeds, + Whose hot incursions and great name in arms + Holds from all soldiers chief majority + And military title capital + Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ. + Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, + This infant warrior, in his enterprises + Discomfited great Douglas; ta'en him once, + Enlarged him, and made a friend of him, + To fill the mouth of deep defiance up + And shake the peace and safety of our throne. + And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, + The Archbishop's Grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer + Capitulate against us and are up. + But wherefore do I tell these news to thee + Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, + Which art my nearest and dearest enemy' + Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, + Base inclination, and the start of spleen, + To fight against me under Percy's pay, + To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns, + To show how much thou art degenerate. + Prince. Do not think so. You shall not find it so. + And God forgive them that so much have sway'd + Your Majesty's good thoughts away from me! + I will redeem all this on Percy's head + And, in the closing of some glorious day, + Be bold to tell you that I am your son, + When I will wear a garment all of blood, + And stain my favours in a bloody mask, + Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it. + And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, + That this same child of honour and renown, + This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, + And your unthought of Harry chance to meet. + For every honour sitting on his helm, + Would they were multitudes, and on my head + My shames redoubled! For the time will come + That I shall make this Northern youth exchange + His glorious deeds for my indignities. + Percy is but my factor, good my lord, + To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; + And I will call hall to so strict account + That he shall render every glory up, + Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, + Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. + This in the name of God I promise here; + The which if he be pleas'd I shall perform, + I do beseech your Majesty may salve + The long-grown wounds of my intemperance. + If not, the end of life cancels all bands, + And I will die a hundred thousand deaths + Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. + King. A hundred thousand rebels die in this! + Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein. + + Enter Blunt. + + How now, good Blunt? Thy looks are full of speed. + Blunt. So hath the business that I come to speak of. + Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word + That Douglas and the English rebels met + The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury. + A mighty and a fearful head they are, + If promises be kept oil every hand, + As ever off'red foul play in a state. + King. The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day; + With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster; + For this advertisement is five days old. + On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward; + On Thursday we ourselves will march. Our meeting + Is Bridgenorth; and, Harry, you shall march + Through Gloucestershire; by which account, + Our business valued, some twelve days hence + Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet. + Our hands are full of business. Let's away. + Advantage feeds him fat while men delay. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Eastcheap. The Boar's Head Tavern. + +Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. + + Fal. Bardolph, am I not fall'n away vilely since this last action? + Do I not bate? Do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like + an old lady's loose gown! I am withered like an old apple John. + Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking. + I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no + strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a + church is made of, I am a peppercorn, a brewer's horse. The + inside of a church! Company, villanous company, hath been the + spoil of me. + Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful you cannot live long. + Fal. Why, there is it! Come, sing me a bawdy song; make me merry. I + was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be, virtuous + enough: swore little, dic'd not above seven times a week, went to + a bawdy house not above once in a quarter- of an hour, paid money + that I borrowed- three or four times, lived well, and in good + compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compass. + Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of + all compass- out of all reasonable compass, Sir John. + Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life. Thou art our + admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop- but 'tis in the + nose of thee. Thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp. + Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. + Fal. No, I'll be sworn. I make as good use of it as many a man doth + of a death's-head or a memento mori. I never see thy face but I + think upon hellfire and Dives that lived in purple; for there he + is in his robes, burning, burning. if thou wert any way given to + virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath should be 'By this + fire, that's God's angel.' But thou art altogether given over, + and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter + darkness. When thou ran'st up Gadshill in the night to catch my + horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus or a + ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a + perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved + me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in + the night betwixt tavern and tavern; but the sack that thou hast + drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap at the dearest + chandler's in Europe. I have maintained that salamander of yours + with fire any time this two-and-thirty years. God reward me for + it! + Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly! + Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burn'd. + + Enter Hostess. + + How now, Dame Partlet the hen? Have you enquir'd yet who pick'd + my pocket? + Host. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? Do you think I + keep thieves in my house? I have search'd, I have enquired, so + has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant. The + tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before. + Fal. Ye lie, hostess. Bardolph was shav'd and lost many a hair, and + I'll be sworn my pocket was pick'd. Go to, you are a woman, go! + Host. Who, I? No; I defy thee! God's light, I was never call'd so + in mine own house before! + Fal. Go to, I know you well enough. + Host. No, Sir John; you do not know me, Sir John. I know you, Sir + John. You owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to + beguile me of it. I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. + Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas! I have given them away to bakers' + wives; they have made bolters of them. + Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. + You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet and + by-drinkings, and money lent you, four-and-twenty pound. + Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay. + Host. He? Alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. + Fal. How? Poor? Look upon his face. What call you rich? Let them + coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks. I'll not pay a denier. + What, will you make a younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease + in mine inn but I shall have my pocket pick'd? I have lost a + seal-ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark. + Host. O Jesu, I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, + that that ring was copper! + Fal. How? the Prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup. 'Sblood, an he were + here, I would cudgel him like a dog if he would say so. + + Enter the Prince [and Poins], marching; and Falstaff meets + them, playing upon his truncheon like a fife. + + How now, lad? Is the wind in that door, i' faith? Must we all + march? + Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion. + Host. My lord, I pray you hear me. + Prince. What say'st thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy husband? + I love him well; he is an honest man. + Host. Good my lord, hear me. + Fal. Prithee let her alone and list to me. + Prince. What say'st thou, Jack? + Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras and had my + pocket pick'd. This house is turn'd bawdy house; they pick + pockets. + Prince. What didst thou lose, Jack? + Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? Three or four bonds of forty pound + apiece and a seal-ring of my grandfather's. + Prince. A trifle, some eightpenny matter. + Host. So I told him, my lord, and I said I heard your Grace say so; + and, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd + man as he is, and said he would cudgel you. + Prince. What! he did not? + Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. + Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune, nor no + more truth in thee than in a drawn fox; and for woman-hood, Maid + Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you + thing, go! + Host. Say, what thing? what thing? + Fal. What thing? Why, a thing to thank God on. + Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou shouldst know it! + I am an honest man's wife, and, setting thy knight-hood aside, + thou art a knave to call me so. + Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say + otherwise. + Host. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou? + Fal. What beast? Why, an otter. + Prince. An otter, Sir John? Why an otter? + Fal. Why, she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to + have her. + Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so. Thou or any man knows + where to have me, thou knave, thou! + Prince. Thou say'st true, hostess, and he slanders thee most + grossly. + Host. So he doth you, my lord, and said this other day you ought + him a thousand pound. + Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? + Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? A million! Thy love is worth a million; + thou owest me thy love. + Host. Nay, my lord, he call'd you Jack and said he would cudgel + you. + Fal. Did I, Bardolph? + Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so. + Fal. Yea. if he said my ring was copper. + Prince. I say, 'tis copper. Darest thou be as good as thy word now? + Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare; but as + thou art Prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's + whelp. + Prince. And why not as the lion? + Fal. The King himself is to be feared as the lion. Dost thou think + I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? Nay, an I do, I pray God my + girdle break. + Prince. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! + But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty in + this bosom of thine. It is all fill'd up with guts and midriff. + Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket? Why, thou + whoreson, impudent, emboss'd rascal, if there were anything in + thy pocket but tavern reckonings, memorandums of bawdy houses, + and one poor pennyworth of sugar candy to make thee long-winded- + if thy pocket were enrich'd with any other injuries but these, I + am a villain. And yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket + up wrong. Art thou not ashamed? + Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? Thou knowest in the state of innocency + Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of + villany? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and + therefore more frailty. You confess then, you pick'd my pocket? + Prince. It appears so by the story. + Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee. Go make ready breakfast. Love thy + husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests. Thou shalt + find me tractable to any honest reason. Thou seest I am pacified. + -Still?- Nay, prithee be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the + news at court. For the robbery, lad- how is that answered? + Prince. O my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee. + The money is paid back again. + Fal. O, I do not like that paying back! 'Tis a double labour. + Prince. I am good friends with my father, and may do anything. + Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it + with unwash'd hands too. + Bard. Do, my lord. + Prince. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot. + Fal. I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can + steal well? O for a fine thief of the age of two-and-twenty or + thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for + these rebels. They offend none but the virtuous. I laud them, I + praise them. + Prince. Bardolph! + Bard. My lord? + Prince. Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, + To my brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland. + [Exit Bardolph.] + Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou and I + Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time. + [Exit Poins.] + Jack, meet me to-morrow in the Temple Hall + At two o'clock in the afternoon. + There shalt thou know thy charge. and there receive + Money and order for their furniture. + The land is burning; Percy stands on high; + And either they or we must lower lie. [Exit.] + Fal. Rare words! brave world! Hostess, my breakfast, come. + O, I could wish this tavern were my drum! +Exit. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. Scene I. +The rebel camp near Shrewsbury. + +Enter Harry Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas. + + Hot. Well said, my noble Scot. If speaking truth + In this fine age were not thought flattery, + Such attribution should the Douglas have + As not a soldier of this season's stamp + Should go so general current through the world. + By God, I cannot flatter, I defy + The tongues of soothers! but a braver place + In my heart's love hath no man than yourself. + Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord. + Doug. Thou art the king of honour. + No man so potent breathes upon the ground + But I will beard him. + + Enter one with letters. + + Hot. Do so, and 'tis well.- + What letters hast thou there?- I can but thank you. + Messenger. These letters come from your father. + Hot. Letters from him? Why comes he not himself? + Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he is grievous sick. + Hot. Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick + In such a justling time? Who leads his power? + Under whose government come they along? + Mess. His letters bears his mind, not I, my lord. + Wor. I prithee tell me, doth he keep his bed? + Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth, + And at the time of my departure thence + He was much fear'd by his physicians. + Wor. I would the state of time had first been whole + Ere he by sickness had been visited. + His health was never better worth than now. + Hot. Sick now? droop now? This sickness doth infect + The very lifeblood of our enterprise. + 'Tis catching hither, even to our camp. + He writes me here that inward sickness- + And that his friends by deputation could not + So soon be drawn; no did he think it meet + To lay so dangerous and dear a trust + On any soul remov'd but on his own. + Yet doth he give us bold advertisement, + That with our small conjunction we should on, + To see how fortune is dispos'd to us; + For, as he writes, there is no quailing now, + Because the King is certainly possess'd + Of all our purposes. What say you to it? + Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us. + Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off. + And yet, in faith, it is not! His present want + Seems more than we shall find it. Were it good + To set the exact wealth of all our states + All at one cast? to set so rich a man + On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? + It were not good; for therein should we read + The very bottom and the soul of hope, + The very list, the very utmost bound + Of all our fortunes. + Doug. Faith, and so we should; + Where now remains a sweet reversion. + We may boldly spend upon the hope of what + Is to come in. + A comfort of retirement lives in this. + Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, + If that the devil and mischance look big + Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. + Wor. But yet I would your father had been here. + The quality and hair of our attempt + Brooks no division. It will be thought + By some that know not why he is away, + That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike + Of our proceedings kept the Earl from hence. + And think how such an apprehension + May turn the tide of fearful faction + And breed a kind of question in our cause. + For well you know we of the off'ring side + Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, + And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whence + The eye of reason may pry in upon us. + This absence of your father's draws a curtain + That shows the ignorant a kind of fear + Before not dreamt of. + Hot. You strain too far. + I rather of his absence make this use: + It lends a lustre and more great opinion, + A larger dare to our great enterprise, + Than if the Earl were here; for men must think, + If we, without his help, can make a head + To push against a kingdom, with his help + We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. + Yet all goes well; yet all our joints are whole. + Doug. As heart can think. There is not such a word + Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear. + + Enter Sir Richard Vernon. + + Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul. + Ver. Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord. + The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, + Is marching hitherwards; with him Prince John. + Hot. No harm. What more? + Ver. And further, I have learn'd + The King himself in person is set forth, + Or hitherwards intended speedily, + With strong and mighty preparation. + Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, + The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales, + And his comrades, that daff'd the world aside + And bid it pass? + Ver. All furnish'd, all in arms; + All plum'd like estridges that with the wind + Bated like eagles having lately bath'd; + Glittering in golden coats like images; + As full of spirit as the month of May + And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; + Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. + I saw young Harry with his beaver on + His cushes on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, + Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury, + And vaulted with such ease into his seat + As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds + To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus + And witch the world with noble horsemanship. + Hot. No more, no more! Worse than the sun in March, + This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come. + They come like sacrifices in their trim, + And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war + All hot and bleeding Will we offer them. + The mailed Mars Shall on his altar sit + Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire + To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh, + And yet not ours. Come, let me taste my horse, + Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt + Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales. + Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, + Meet, and ne'er part till one drop down a corse. + that Glendower were come! + Ver. There is more news. + I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, + He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. + Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. + Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. + Hot. What may the King's whole battle reach unto? + Ver. To thirty thousand. + Hot. Forty let it be. + My father and Glendower being both away, + The powers of us may serve so great a day. + Come, let us take a muster speedily. + Doomsday is near. Die all, die merrily. + Doug. Talk not of dying. I am out of fear + Of death or death's hand for this one half-year. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +A public road near Coventry. + +Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. + + Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of + sack. Our soldiers shall march through. We'll to Sutton Co'fil' + to-night. + Bard. Will you give me money, Captain? + Fal. Lay out, lay out. + Bald. This bottle makes an angel. + Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; an if it make twenty, + take them all; I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto + meet me at town's end. + Bard. I Will, Captain. Farewell. Exit. + Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a sous'd gurnet. I + have misused the King's press damnably. I have got in exchange of + a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I + press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons; inquire me + out contracted bachelors, such as had been ask'd twice on the + banes- such a commodity of warm slaves as had as lieve hear the + devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver worse than + a struck fowl or a hurt wild duck. I press'd me none but such + toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than + pins' heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my + whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, + gentlemen of companies- slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the + painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores; and + such as indeed were never soldiers, but discarded unjust + serving-men, younger sons to Younger brothers, revolted tapsters, + and ostlers trade-fall'n; the cankers of a calm world and a long + peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old fac'd + ancient; and such have I to fill up the rooms of them that have + bought out their services that you would think that I had a + hundred and fifty tattered Prodigals lately come from + swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me + on the way, and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets and + press'd the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I'll + not march through Coventry with them, that's flat. Nay, and the + villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; + for indeed I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a + shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two + napkins tack'd together and thrown over the shoulders like a + herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, + stol'n from my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose innkeeper + of Daventry. But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on + every hedge. + + Enter the Prince and the Lord of Westmoreland. + + Prince. How now, blown Jack? How now, quilt? + Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag? What a devil dost thou in + Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy. I + thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury. + West. Faith, Sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and + you too; but my powers are there already. The King, I can tell + you, looks for us all. We must away all, to-night. + Fal. Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream. + Prince. I think, to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath already + made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose fellows are these that + come after? + Fal. Mine, Hal, mine. + Prince. I did never see such pitiful rascals. + Fal. Tut, tut! good enough to toss; food for powder, food for + powder. They'll fill a pit as well as better. Tush, man, mortal + men, mortal men. + West. Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare- + too beggarly. + Fal. Faith, for their poverty, I know, not where they had that; and + for their bareness, I am surd they never learn'd that of me. + Prince. No, I'll be sworn, unless you call three fingers on the + ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste. Percy 's already in the + field. +Exit. + Fal. What, is the King encamp'd? + West. He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too long. + [Exit.] + Fal. Well, + To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast + Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +The rebel camp near Shrewsbury. + +Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, Vernon. + + Hot. We'll fight with him to-night. + Wor. It may not be. + Doug. You give him then advantage. + Ver. Not a whit. + Hot. Why say you so? Looks he no for supply? + Ver. So do we. + Hot. His is certain, ours 's doubtful. + Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not to-night. + Ver. Do not, my lord. + Doug. You do not counsel well. + You speak it out of fear and cold heart. + Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas. By my life- + And I dare well maintain it with my life- + If well-respected honour bid me on + I hold as little counsel with weak fear + As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives. + Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle + Which of us fears. + Doug. Yea, or to-night. + Ver. Content. + Hot. To-night, say I. + Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much, + Being men of such great leading as you are, + That you foresee not what impediments + Drag back our expedition. Certain horse + Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up. + Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day; + And now their pride and mettle is asleep, + Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, + That not a horse is half the half of himself. + Hot. So are the horses of the enemy, + In general journey-bated and brought low. + The better part of ours are full of rest. + Wor. The number of the King exceedeth ours. + For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in. + + The trumpet sounds a parley. + + Enter Sir Walter Blunt. + + Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King, + If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect. + Hot. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt, and would to God + You were of our determination! + Some of us love you well; and even those some + Envy your great deservings and good name, + Because you are not of our quality, + But stand against us like an enemy. + Blunt. And God defend but still I should stand so, + So long as out of limit and true rule + You stand against anointed majesty! + But to my charge. The King hath sent to know + The nature of your griefs; and whereupon + You conjure from the breast of civil peace + Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land + Audacious cruelty. If that the King + Have any way your good deserts forgot, + Which he confesseth to be manifold, + He bids you name your griefs, and with all speed + You shall have your desires with interest, + And pardon absolute for yourself and these + Herein misled by your suggestion. + Hot. The King is kind; and well we know the King + Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. + My father and my uncle and myself + Did give him that same royalty he wears; + And when he was not six-and-twenty strong, + Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, + A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, + My father gave him welcome to the shore; + And when he heard him swear and vow to God + He came but to be Duke of Lancaster, + To sue his livery and beg his peace, + With tears of innocency and terms of zeal, + My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd, + Swore him assistance, and performed it too. + Now, when the lords and barons of the realm + Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him, + The more and less came in with cap and knee; + Met him on boroughs, cities, villages, + Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, + Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths, + Give him their heirs as pages, followed him + Even at the heels in golden multitudes. + He presently, as greatness knows itself, + Steps me a little higher than his vow + Made to my father, while his blood was poor, + Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh; + And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform + Some certain edicts and some strait decrees + That lie too heavy on the commonwealth; + Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep + Over his country's wrongs; and by this face, + This seeming brow of justice, did he win + The hearts of all that he did angle for; + Proceeded further- cut me off the heads + Of all the favourites that the absent King + In deputation left behind him here + When he was personal in the Irish war. + But. Tut! I came not to hear this. + Hot. Then to the point. + In short time after lie depos'd the King; + Soon after that depriv'd him of his life; + And in the neck of that task'd the whole state; + To make that worse, suff'red his kinsman March + (Who is, if every owner were well placid, + Indeed his king) to be engag'd in Wales, + There without ransom to lie forfeited; + Disgrac'd me in my happy victories, + Sought to entrap me by intelligence; + Rated mine uncle from the Council board; + In rage dismiss'd my father from the court; + Broke an oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong; + And in conclusion drove us to seek out + This head of safety, and withal to pry + Into his title, the which we find + Too indirect for long continuance. + Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the King? + Hot. Not so, Sir Walter. We'll withdraw awhile. + Go to the King; and let there be impawn'd + Some surety for a safe return again, + And In the morning early shall mine uncle + Bring him our purposes; and so farewell. + Blunt. I would you would accept of grace and love. + Hot. And may be so we shall. + Blunt. Pray God you do. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +York. The Archbishop's Palace. + +Enter the Archbishop of York and Sir Michael. + + Arch. Hie, good Sir Michael; bear this sealed brief + With winged haste to the Lord Marshal; + This to my cousin Scroop; and all the rest + To whom they are directed. If you knew + How much they do import, you would make haste. + Sir M. My good lord, + I guess their tenour. + Arch. Like enough you do. + To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day + Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men + Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury, + As I am truly given to understand, + The King with mighty and quick-raised power + Meets with Lord Harry; and I fear, Sir Michael, + What with the sickness of Northumberland, + Whose power was in the first proportion, + And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence, + Who with them was a rated sinew too + And comes not in, overrul'd by prophecies- + I fear the power of Percy is too weak + To wage an instant trial with the King. + Sir M. Why, my good lord, you need not fear; + There is Douglas and Lord Mortimer. + Arch. No, Mortimer is not there. + Sir M. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy, + And there is my Lord of Worcester, and a head + Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen. + Arch. And so there is; but yet the King hath drawn + The special head of all the land together- + The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, + The noble Westmoreland and warlike Blunt, + And many moe corrivals and dear men + Of estimation and command in arms. + Sir M. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well oppos'd. + Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; + And, to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed. + For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King + Dismiss his power, he means to visit us, + For he hath heard of our confederacy, + And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him. + Therefore make haste. I must go write again + To other friends; and so farewell, Sir Michael. + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. Scene I. +The King's camp near Shrewsbury. + +Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, Sir Walter Blunt, +Falstaff. + + King. How bloodily the sun begins to peer + Above yon busky hill! The day looks pale + At his distemp'rature. + Prince. The southern wind + Doth play the trumpet to his purposes + And by his hollow whistling in the leaves + Foretells a tempest and a blust'ring day. + King. Theft with the losers let it sympathize, + For nothing can seem foul to those that win. + + The trumpet sounds. Enter Worcester [and Vernon]. + + How, now, my Lord of Worcester? 'Tis not well + That you and I should meet upon such terms + As now we meet. You have deceiv'd our trust + And made us doff our easy robes of peace + To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel. + This is not well, my lord; this is not well. + What say you to it? Will you again unknit + This churlish knot of all-abhorred war, + And move in that obedient orb again + Where you did give a fair and natural light, + And be no more an exhal'd meteor, + A prodigy of fear, and a portent + Of broached mischief to the unborn times? + Wor. Hear me, my liege. + For mine own part, I could be well content + To entertain the lag-end of my life + With quiet hours; for I do protest + I have not sought the day of this dislike. + King. You have not sought it! How comes it then, + Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. + Prince. Peace, chewet, peace! + Wor. It pleas'd your Majesty to turn your looks + Of favour from myself and all our house; + And yet I must remember you, my lord, + We were the first and dearest of your friends. + For you my staff of office did I break + In Richard's time, and posted day and night + To meet you on the way and kiss your hand + When yet you were in place and in account + Nothing so strong and fortunate as I. + It was myself, my brother, and his son + That brought you home and boldly did outdare + The dangers of the time. You swore to us, + And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, + That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state, + Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right, + The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster. + To this we swore our aid. But in short space + It it rain'd down fortune show'ring on your head, + And such a flood of greatness fell on you- + What with our help, what with the absent King, + What with the injuries of a wanton time, + The seeming sufferances that you had borne, + And the contrarious winds that held the King + So long in his unlucky Irish wars + That all in England did repute him dead- + And from this swarm of fair advantages + You took occasion to be quickly woo'd + To gripe the general sway into your hand; + Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster; + And, being fed by us, you us'd us so + As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird, + Useth the sparrow- did oppress our nest; + Grew, by our feeding to so great a bulk + That even our love thirst not come near your sight + For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing + We were enforc'd for safety sake to fly + Out of your sight and raise this present head; + Whereby we stand opposed by such means + As you yourself have forg'd against yourself + By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, + And violation of all faith and troth + Sworn to tis in your younger enterprise. + King. These things, indeed, you have articulate, + Proclaim'd at market crosses, read in churches, + To face the garment of rebellion + With some fine colour that may please the eye + Of fickle changelings and poor discontents, + Which gape and rub the elbow at the news + Of hurlyburly innovation. + And never yet did insurrection want + Such water colours to impaint his cause, + Nor moody beggars, starving for a time + Of pell-mell havoc and confusion. + Prince. In both our armies there is many a soul + Shall pay full dearly for this encounter, + If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew + The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world + In praise of Henry Percy. By my hopes, + This present enterprise set off his head, + I do not think a braver gentleman, + More active-valiant or more valiant-young, + More daring or more bold, is now alive + To grace this latter age with noble deeds. + For my part, I may speak it to my shame, + I have a truant been to chivalry; + And so I hear he doth account me too. + Yet this before my father's Majesty- + I am content that he shall take the odds + Of his great name and estimation, + And will to save the blood on either side, + Try fortune with him in a single fight. + King. And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee, + Albeit considerations infinite + Do make against it. No, good Worcester, no! + We love our people well; even those we love + That are misled upon your cousin's part; + And, will they take the offer of our grace, + Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man + Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his. + So tell your cousin, and bring me word + What he will do. But if he will not yield, + Rebuke and dread correction wait on us, + And they shall do their office. So be gone. + We will not now be troubled with reply. + We offer fair; take it advisedly. + Exit Worcester [with Vernon] + Prince. It will not be accepted, on my life. + The Douglas and the Hotspur both together + Are confident against the world in arms. + King. Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge; + For, on their answer, will we set on them, + And God befriend us as our cause is just! + Exeunt. Manent Prince, Falstaff. + Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and bestride me, so! + 'Tis a point of friendship. + Prince. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that friendship. + Say thy prayers, and farewell. + Fal. I would 'twere bedtime, Hal, and all well. + Prince. Why, thou owest God a death. +Exit. + Fal. 'Tis not due yet. I would be loath to pay him before his day. + What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, + 'tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick + me off when I come on? How then? Can honor set to a leg? No. Or + an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no + skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is that + word honour? Air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? He that died a + Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth be bear it? No. 'Tis + insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the + living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll + none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon- and so ends my catechism. +Exit. + + + + +Scene II. +The rebel camp. + +Enter Worcester and Sir Richard Vernon. + + Wor. O no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard, + The liberal and kind offer of the King. + Ver. 'Twere best he did. + Wor. Then are we all undone. + It is not possible, it cannot be + The King should keep his word in loving us. + He will suspect us still and find a time + To punish this offence in other faults. + Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes; + For treason is but trusted like the fox + Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd and lock'd up, + Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. + Look how we can, or sad or merrily, + Interpretation will misquote our looks, + And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, + The better cherish'd, still the nearer death. + My nephew's trespass may be well forgot; + It hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood, + And an adopted name of privilege- + A hare-brained Hotspur govern'd by a spleen. + All his offences live upon my head + And on his father's. We did train him on; + And, his corruption being taken from us, + We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. + Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, + In any case, the offer of the King. + + Enter Hotspur [and Douglas]. + + Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say 'tis so. + Here comes your cousin. + Hot. My uncle is return'd. + Deliver up my Lord of Westmoreland. + Uncle, what news? + Wor. The King will bid you battle presently. + Doug. Defy him by the Lord Of Westmoreland. + Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. + Doug. Marry, and shall, and very willingly. +Exit. + Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the King. + Hot. Did you beg any, God forbid! + Wor. I told him gently of our grievances, + Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus, + By now forswearing that he is forsworn. + He calls us rebels, traitors, aid will scourge + With haughty arms this hateful name in us. + + Enter Douglas. + + Doug. Arm, gentlemen! to arms! for I have thrown + A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, + And Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did bear it; + Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. + Wor. The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the King + And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight. + Hot. O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads, + And that no man might draw short breath to-day + But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me, + How show'd his tasking? Seem'd it in contempt? + No, by my soul. I never in my life + Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly, + Unless a brother should a brother dare + To gentle exercise and proof of arms. + He gave you all the duties of a man; + Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue; + Spoke your deservings like a chronicle; + Making you ever better than his praise + By still dispraising praise valued with you; + And, which became him like a prince indeed, + He made a blushing cital of himself, + And chid his truant youth with such a grace + As if lie mast'red there a double spirit + Of teaching and of learning instantly. + There did he pause; but let me tell the world, + If he outlive the envy of this day, + England did never owe so sweet a hope, + So much misconstrued in his wantonness. + Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamoured + Upon his follies. Never did I hear + Of any prince so wild a libertine. + But be he as he will, yet once ere night + I will embrace him with a soldier's arm, + That he shall shrink under my courtesy. + Arm, arm with speed! and, fellows, soldiers, friends, + Better consider what you have to do + Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, + Can lift your blood up with persuasion. + + Enter a Messenger. + + Mess. My lord, here are letters for you. + Hot. I cannot read them now.- + O gentlemen, the time of life is short! + To spend that shortness basely were too long + If life did ride upon a dial's point, + Still ending at the arrival of an hour. + An if we live, we live to tread on kings; + If die, brave death, when princes die with us! + Now for our consciences, the arms are fair, + When the intent of bearing them is just. + + Enter another Messenger. + + Mess. My lord, prepare. The King comes on apace. + Hot. I thank him that he cuts me from my tale, + For I profess not talking. Only this- + Let each man do his best; and here draw I + A sword whose temper I intend to stain + With the best blood that I can meet withal + In the adventure of this perilous day. + Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on. + Sound all the lofty instruments of war, + And by that music let us all embrace; + For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall + A second time do such a courtesy. + Here they embrace. The trumpets sound. + [Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene III. +Plain between the camps. + +The King enters with his Power. Alarum to the battle. Then enter Douglas +and Sir Walter Blunt. + + Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus + Thou crossest me? What honour dost thou seek + Upon my head? + Doug. Know then my name is Douglas, + And I do haunt thee in the battle thus + Because some tell me that thou art a king. + Blunt. They tell thee true. + Doug. The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought + Thy likeness; for instead of thee, King Harry, + This sword hath ended him. So shall it thee, + Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. + Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot; + And thou shalt find a king that will revenge + Lord Stafford's death. + + They fight. Douglas kills Blunt. Then enter Hotspur. + + Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, + I never had triumph'd upon a Scot. + Doug. All's done, all's won. Here breathless lies the King. + Hot. Where? + Doug. Here. + Hot. This, Douglas? No. I know this face full well. + A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt; + Semblably furnish'd like the King himself. + Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes! + A borrowed title hast thou bought too dear: + Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king? + Hot. The King hath many marching in his coats. + Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats; + I'll murder all his wardrop, piece by piece, + Until I meet the King. + Hot. Up and away! + Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. + Exeunt. + + Alarum. Enter Falstaff solus. + + Fal. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot + here. Here's no scoring but upon the pate. Soft! who are you? + Sir Walter Blunt. There's honour for you! Here's no vanity! I am + as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too. God keep lead out of me! + I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my + rag-of-muffins where they are pepper'd. There's not three of my + hundred and fifty left alive; and they are for the town's end, to + beg during life. But who comes here? + + Enter the Prince. + + Prince. What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword. + Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff + Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, + Whose deaths are yet unreveng'd. I prithee + Rend me thy sword. + Fal. O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe awhile. Turk Gregory + never did such deeds in arms as I have done this day. I have paid + Percy; I have made him sure. + Prince. He is indeed, and living to kill thee. + I prithee lend me thy sword. + Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not my + sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt. + Prince. Give it me. What, is it in the case? + Fal. Ay, Hal. 'Tis hot, 'tis hot. There's that will sack a city. + + The Prince draws it out and finds it to he a bottle of sack. + + What, is it a time to jest and dally now? + He throws the bottle at him. Exit. + Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If he do come in my + way, so; if he do not, if I come in his willingly, let him make a + carbonado of me. I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter + hath. Give me life; which if I can save, so; if not, honour comes + unlook'd for, and there's an end. Exit. + + + + +Scene IV. +Another part of the field. + +Alarum. Excursions. Enter the King, the Prince, Lord John of Lancaster, +Earl of Westmoreland + + King. I prithee, + Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleedest too much. + Lord John of Lancaster, go you unto him. + John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. + Prince. I do beseech your Majesty make up, + Lest Your retirement do amaze your friends. + King. I will do so. + My Lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. + West. Come, my lord, I'll lead you to your tent. + Prince. Lead me, my lord, I do not need your help; + And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive + The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, + Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, + And rebels' arms triumph in massacres! + John. We breathe too long. Come, cousin Westmoreland, + Our duty this way lies. For God's sake, come. + [Exeunt Prince John and Westmoreland.] + Prince. By God, thou hast deceiv'd me, Lancaster! + I did not think thee lord of such a spirit. + Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John; + But now, I do respect thee as my soul. + King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point + With lustier maintenance than I did look for + Of such an ungrown warrior. + Prince. O, this boy + Lends mettle to us all! Exit. + + Enter Douglas. + + Doug. Another king? They grow like Hydra's heads. + I am the Douglas, fatal to all those + That wear those colours on them. What art thou + That counterfeit'st the person of a king? + King. The King himself, who, Douglas, grieves at heart + So many of his shadows thou hast met, + And not the very King. I have two boys + Seek Percy and thyself about the field; + But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, + I will assay thee. So defend thyself. + Doug. I fear thou art another counterfeit; + And yet, in faith, thou bearest thee like a king. + But mine I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be, + And thus I win thee. + + They fight. The King being in danger, enter Prince of Wales. + + Prince. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like + Never to hold it up again! The spirits + Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt are in my arms. + It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee, + Who never promiseth but he means to pay. + They fight. Douglas flieth. + Cheerly, my lord. How fares your Grace? + Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent, + And so hath Clifton. I'll to Clifton straight. + King. Stay and breathe awhile. + Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion, + And show'd thou mak'st some tender of my life, + In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me. + Prince. O God! they did me too much injury + That ever said I heark'ned for your death. + If it were so, I might have let alone + The insulting hand of Douglas over you, + Which would have been as speedy in your end + As all the poisonous potions in the world, + And sav'd the treacherous labour of your son. + King. Make up to Clifton; I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey. +Exit. + + Enter Hotspur. + + Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. + Prince. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name. + Hot. My name is Harry Percy. + Prince. Why, then I see + A very valiant rebel of the name. + I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, + To share with me in glory any more. + Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere, + Nor can one England brook a double reign + Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales. + Hot. Nor shall it, Harry; for the hour is come + To end the one of us and would to God + Thy name in arms were now as great as mine! + Prince. I'll make it greater ere I part from thee, + And all the budding honours on thy crest + I'll crop to make a garland for my head. + Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities. + They fight. + + Enter Falstaff. + + Fal. Well said, Hal! to it, Hal! Nay, you shall find no boy's play + here, I can tell you. + + Enter Douglas. He fighteth with Falstaff, who falls down as if + he were dead. [Exit Douglas.] The Prince killeth Percy. + + Hot. O Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth! + I better brook the loss of brittle life + Than those proud titles thou hast won of me. + They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my flesh. + But thoughts the slave, of life, and life time's fool, + And time, that takes survey of all the world, + Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy, + But that the earthy and cold hand of death + Lies on my tongue. No, Percy, thou art dust, + And food for- [Dies.] + Prince. For worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well, great heart! + Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk! + When that this body did contain a spirit, + A kingdom for it was too small a bound; + But now two paces of the vilest earth + Is room enough. This earth that bears thee dead + Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. + If thou wert sensible of courtesy, + I should not make so dear a show of zeal. + But let my favours hide thy mangled face; + And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself + For doing these fair rites of tenderness. + Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! + Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, + But not rememb'red in thy epitaph! + He spieth Falstaff on the ground. + What, old acquaintance? Could not all this flesh + Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell! + I could have better spar'd a better man. + O, I should have a heavy miss of thee + If I were much in love with vanity! + Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, + Though many dearer, in this bloody fray. + Embowell'd will I see thee by-and-by; + Till then in blood by noble Percy lie. Exit. + + Falstaff riseth up. + + Fal. Embowell'd? If thou embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to + powder me and eat me too to-morrow. 'Sblood, 'twas time to + counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot + too. Counterfeit? I lie; I am no counterfeit. To die is to be a + counterfeit; for he is but the counterfeit of a man who hath not + the life of a man; but to counterfeit dying when a man thereby + liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image + of life indeed. The better part of valour is discretion; in the + which better part I have saved my life. Zounds, I am afraid of + this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead. How if he should + counterfeit too, and rise? By my faith, I am afraid he would + prove the better counterfeit. Therefore I'll make him sure; yea, + and I'll swear I kill'd him. Why may not he rise as well as I? + Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, + sirrah [stabs him], with a new wound in your thigh, come you + along with me. + + He takes up Hotspur on his hack. [Enter Prince, and John of + Lancaster. + + Prince. Come, brother John; full bravely hast thou flesh'd + Thy maiden sword. + John. But, soft! whom have we here? + Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? + Prince. I did; I saw him dead, + Breathless and bleeding on the ground. Art thou alive, + Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight? + I prithee speak. We will not trust our eyes + Without our ears. Thou art not what thou seem'st. + Fal. No, that's certain! I am not a double man; but if I be not + Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack. There 's Percy. If your father + will do me any honour, so; if not, let him kill the next Percy + himself. I look to be either earl or duke, I can assure you. + Prince. Why, Percy I kill'd myself, and saw thee dead! + Fal. Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying! I + grant you I was down, and out of breath, and so was he; but we + rose both at an instant and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury + clock. If I may be believ'd, so; if not, let them that should + reward valour bear the sin upon their own heads. I'll take it + upon my death, I gave him this wound in the thigh. If the man + were alive and would deny it, zounds! I would make him eat a + piece of my sword. + John. This is the strangest tale that ever I beard. + Prince. This is the strangest fellow, brother John. + Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back. + For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, + I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have. + A retreat is sounded. + The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours. + Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field, + To see what friends are living, who are dead. + Exeunt [Prince Henry and Prince John]. + Fal. I'll follow, as they say, for reward. He that rewards me, God + reward him! If I do grow great, I'll grow less; for I'll purge, + and leave sack, and live cleanly, as a nobleman should do. + Exit [bearing off the body]. + + + + +Scene V. +Another part of the field. + +The trumpets sound. [Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, +Earl of Westmoreland, with Worcester and Vernon prisoners. + + King. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. + Ill-spirited Worcester! did not we send grace, + Pardon, and terms of love to all of you? + And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary? + Misuse the tenour of thy kinsman's trust? + Three knights upon our party slain to-day, + A noble earl, and many a creature else + Had been alive this hour, + If like a Christian thou hadst truly borne + Betwixt our armies true intelligence. + Wor. What I have done my safety urg'd me to; + And I embrace this fortune patiently, + Since not to be avoided it fails on me. + King. Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon too; + Other offenders we will pause upon. + Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, [guarded]. + How goes the field? + Prince. The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw + The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, + The Noble Percy slain and all his men + Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest; + And falling from a hill,he was so bruis'd + That the pursuers took him. At my tent + The Douglas is, and I beseech Your Grace + I may dispose of him. + King. With all my heart. + Prince. Then brother John of Lancaster, to you + This honourable bounty shall belong. + Go to the Douglas and deliver him + Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free. + His valour shown upon our crests today + Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds, + Even in the bosom of our adversaries. + John. I thank your Grace for this high courtesy, + Which I shall give away immediately. + King. Then this remains, that we divide our power. + You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland, + Towards York shall bend you with your dearest speed + To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop, + Who, as we hear, are busily in arms. + Myself and you, son Harry, will towards Wales + To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March. + Rebellion in this laud shall lose his sway, + Meeting the check of such another day; + And since this business so fair is done, + Let us not leave till all our own be won. + Exeunt. + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1598 + + +SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + RUMOUR, the Presenter + KING HENRY THE FOURTH + + HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, afterwards HENRY + PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER + PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER + THOMAS, DUKE OF CLARENCE + Sons of Henry IV + + EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND + SCROOP, ARCHBISHOP OF YORK + LORD MOWBRAY + LORD HASTINGS + LORD BARDOLPH + SIR JOHN COLVILLE + TRAVERS and MORTON, retainers of Northumberland + Opposites against King Henry IV + + EARL OF WARWICK + EARL OF WESTMORELAND + EARL OF SURREY + EARL OF KENT + GOWER + HARCOURT + BLUNT + Of the King's party + + LORD CHIEF JUSTICE + SERVANT, to Lord Chief Justice + + SIR JOHN FALSTAFF + EDWARD POINS + BARDOLPH + PISTOL + PETO + Irregular humourists + + PAGE, to Falstaff + + ROBERT SHALLOW and SILENCE, country Justices + DAVY, servant to Shallow + + FANG and SNARE, Sheriff's officers + + RALPH MOULDY + SIMON SHADOW + THOMAS WART + FRANCIS FEEBLE + PETER BULLCALF + Country soldiers + + FRANCIS, a drawer + + LADY NORTHUMBERLAND + LADY PERCY, Percy's widow + HOSTESS QUICKLY, of the Boar's Head, Eastcheap + DOLL TEARSHEET + + LORDS, Attendants, Porter, Drawers, Beadles, Grooms, Servants, + Speaker of the Epilogue + + SCENE: England + +INDUCTION + INDUCTION. + Warkworth. Before NORTHUMBERLAND'S Castle + + Enter RUMOUR, painted full of tongues + + RUMOUR. Open your ears; for which of you will stop + The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks? + I, from the orient to the drooping west, + Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold + The acts commenced on this ball of earth. + Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, + The which in every language I pronounce, + Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. + I speak of peace while covert emnity, + Under the smile of safety, wounds the world; + And who but Rumour, who but only I, + Make fearful musters and prepar'd defence, + Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief, + Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, + And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe + Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures, + And of so easy and so plain a stop + That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, + The still-discordant wav'ring multitude, + Can play upon it. But what need I thus + My well-known body to anatomize + Among my household? Why is Rumour here? + I run before King Harry's victory, + Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury, + Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, + Quenching the flame of bold rebellion + Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I + To speak so true at first? My office is + To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell + Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword, + And that the King before the Douglas' rage + Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death. + This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns + Between that royal field of Shrewsbury + And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, + Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, + Lies crafty-sick. The posts come tiring on, + And not a man of them brings other news + Than they have learnt of me. From Rumour's tongues + They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs. + Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Warkworth. Before NORTHUMBERLAND'S Castle + +Enter LORD BARDOLPH + + LORD BARDOLPH. Who keeps the gate here, ho? + + The PORTER opens the gate + + Where is the Earl? + PORTER. What shall I say you are? + LORD BARDOLPH. Tell thou the Earl + That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. + PORTER. His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard. + Please it your honour knock but at the gate, + And he himself will answer. + + Enter NORTHUMBERLAND + + LORD BARDOLPH. Here comes the Earl. Exit PORTER + NORTHUMBERLAND. What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now + Should be the father of some stratagem. + The times are wild; contention, like a horse + Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose + And bears down all before him. + LORD BARDOLPH. Noble Earl, + I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Good, an God will! + LORD BARDOLPH. As good as heart can wish. + The King is almost wounded to the death; + And, in the fortune of my lord your son, + Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts + Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John, + And Westmoreland, and Stafford, fled the field; + And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John, + Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day, + So fought, so followed, and so fairly won, + Came not till now to dignify the times, + Since Cxsar's fortunes! + NORTHUMBERLAND. How is this deriv'd? + Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury? + LORD BARDOLPH. I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence; + A gentleman well bred and of good name, + That freely rend'red me these news for true. + + Enter TRAVERS + + NORTHUMBERLAND. Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent + On Tuesday last to listen after news. + LORD BARDOLPH. My lord, I over-rode him on the way; + And he is furnish'd with no certainties + More than he haply may retail from me. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you? + TRAVERS. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back + With joyful tidings; and, being better hors'd, + Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard + A gentleman, almost forspent with speed, + That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse. + He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him + I did demand what news from Shrewsbury. + He told me that rebellion had bad luck, + And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold. + With that he gave his able horse the head + And, bending forward, struck his armed heels + Against the panting sides of his poor jade + Up to the rowel-head; and starting so, + He seem'd in running to devour the way, + Staying no longer question. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Ha! Again: + Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold? + Of Hotspur, Coldspur? that rebellion + Had met ill luck? + LORD BARDOLPH. My lord, I'll tell you what: + If my young lord your son have not the day, + Upon mine honour, for a silken point + I'll give my barony. Never talk of it. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers + Give then such instances of loss? + LORD BARDOLPH. Who- he? + He was some hilding fellow that had stol'n + The horse he rode on and, upon my life, + Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news. + + Enter Morton + + NORTHUMBERLAND. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, + Foretells the nature of a tragic volume. + So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood + Hath left a witness'd usurpation. + Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? + MORTON. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord; + Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask + To fright our party. + NORTHUMBERLAND. How doth my son and brother? + Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek + Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. + Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, + So dull, so dread in look, so woe-begone, + Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night + And would have told him half his Troy was burnt; + But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, + And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it. + This thou wouldst say: 'Your son did thus and thus; + Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas'- + Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds; + But in the end, to stop my ear indeed, + Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, + Ending with 'Brother, son, and all, are dead.' + MORTON. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet; + But for my lord your son- + NORTHUMBERLAND. Why, he is dead. + See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! + He that but fears the thing he would not know + Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes + That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton; + Tell thou an earl his divination lies, + And I will take it as a sweet disgrace + And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. + MORTON. You are too great to be by me gainsaid; + Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead. + I see a strange confession in thine eye; + Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear or sin + To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so: + The tongue offends not that reports his death; + And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, + Not he which says the dead is not alive. + Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news + Hath but a losing office, and his tongue + Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, + Rememb'red tolling a departing friend. + LORD BARDOLPH. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead. + MORTON. I am sorry I should force you to believe + That which I would to God I had not seen; + But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, + Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breath'd, + To Harry Monmouth, whose swift wrath beat down + The never-daunted Percy to the earth, + From whence with life he never more sprung up. + In few, his death- whose spirit lent a fire + Even to the dullest peasant in his camp- + Being bruited once, took fire and heat away + From the best-temper'd courage in his troops; + For from his metal was his party steeled; + Which once in him abated, an the rest + Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. + And as the thing that's heavy in itself + Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, + So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, + Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear + That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim + Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, + Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester + Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot, + The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword + Had three times slain th' appearance of the King, + Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame + Of those that turn'd their backs, and in his flight, + Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all + Is that the King hath won, and hath sent out + A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, + Under the conduct of young Lancaster + And Westmoreland. This is the news at full. + NORTHUMBERLAND. For this I shall have time enough to mourn. + In poison there is physic; and these news, + Having been well, that would have made me sick, + Being sick, have in some measure made me well; + And as the wretch whose fever-weak'ned joints, + Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, + Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire + Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs, + Weak'ned with grief, being now enrag'd with grief, + Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch! + A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel + Must glove this hand; and hence, thou sickly coif! + Thou art a guard too wanton for the head + Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. + Now bind my brows with iron; and approach + The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring + To frown upon th' enrag'd Northumberland! + Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not Nature's hand + Keep the wild flood confin'd! Let order die! + And let this world no longer be a stage + To feed contention in a ling'ring act; + But let one spirit of the first-born Cain + Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set + On bloody courses, the rude scene may end + And darkness be the burier of the dead! + LORD BARDOLPH. This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord. + MORTON. Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour. + The lives of all your loving complices + Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er + To stormy passion, must perforce decay. + You cast th' event of war, my noble lord, + And summ'd the account of chance before you said + 'Let us make head.' It was your pre-surmise + That in the dole of blows your son might drop. + You knew he walk'd o'er perils on an edge, + More likely to fall in than to get o'er; + You were advis'd his flesh was capable + Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit + Would lift him where most trade of danger rang'd; + Yet did you say 'Go forth'; and none of this, + Though strongly apprehended, could restrain + The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall'n, + Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth + More than that being which was like to be? + LORD BARDOLPH. We all that are engaged to this loss + Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas + That if we wrought out life 'twas ten to one; + And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd + Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd; + And since we are o'erset, venture again. + Come, we will put forth, body and goods. + MORTON. 'Tis more than time. And, my most noble lord, + I hear for certain, and dare speak the truth: + The gentle Archbishop of York is up + With well-appointed pow'rs. He is a man + Who with a double surety binds his followers. + My lord your son had only but the corpse, + But shadows and the shows of men, to fight; + For that same word 'rebellion' did divide + The action of their bodies from their souls; + And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd, + As men drink potions; that their weapons only + Seem'd on our side, but for their spirits and souls + This word 'rebellion'- it had froze them up, + As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop + Turns insurrection to religion. + Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts, + He's follow'd both with body and with mind; + And doth enlarge his rising with the blood + Of fair King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones; + Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause; + Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land, + Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; + And more and less do flock to follow him. + NORTHUMBERLAND. I knew of this before; but, to speak truth, + This present grief had wip'd it from my mind. + Go in with me; and counsel every man + The aptest way for safety and revenge. + Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed- + Never so few, and never yet more need. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +London. A street + +Enter SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, with his PAGE bearing his sword and buckler + + FALSTAFF. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water? + PAGE. He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water; but + for the party that owed it, he might have moe diseases than he + knew for. + FALSTAFF. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The brain of + this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent anything + that intends to laughter, more than I invent or is invented on + me. I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in + other men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath + overwhelm'd all her litter but one. If the Prince put thee into + my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I + have no judgment. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be + worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never mann'd with + an agate till now; but I will inset you neither in gold nor + silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your + master, for a jewel- the juvenal, the Prince your master, whose + chin is not yet fledge. I will sooner have a beard grow in the + palm of my hand than he shall get one off his cheek; and yet he + will not stick to say his face is a face-royal. God may finish it + when he will, 'tis not a hair amiss yet. He may keep it still at + a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it; + and yet he'll be crowing as if he had writ man ever since his + father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he's almost + out of mine, I can assure him. What said Master Dommelton about + the satin for my short cloak and my slops? + PAGE. He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than + Bardolph. He would not take his band and yours; he liked not the + security. + FALSTAFF. Let him be damn'd, like the Glutton; pray God his tongue + be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel! A rascal-yea-forsooth knave, to + bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security! The + whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and + bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is through with + them in honest taking-up, then they must stand upon security. I + had as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop + it with security. I look'd 'a should have sent me two and twenty + yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me security. + Well, he may sleep in security; for he hath the horn of + abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines through it; and + yet cannot he see, though he have his own lanthorn to light him. + Where's Bardolph? + PAGE. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship horse. + FALSTAFF. I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in + Smithfield. An I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were + mann'd, hors'd, and wiv'd. + + Enter the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE and SERVANT + + PAGE. Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the + Prince for striking him about Bardolph. + FALSTAFF. Wait close; I will not see him. + CHIEF JUSTICE. What's he that goes there? + SERVANT. Falstaff, an't please your lordship. + CHIEF JUSTICE. He that was in question for the robb'ry? + SERVANT. He, my lord; but he hath since done good service at + Shrewsbury, and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to the + Lord John of Lancaster. + CHIEF JUSTICE. What, to York? Call him back again. + SERVANT. Sir John Falstaff! + FALSTAFF. Boy, tell him I am deaf. + PAGE. You must speak louder; my master is deaf. + CHIEF JUSTICE. I am sure he is, to the hearing of anything good. + Go, pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him. + SERVANT. Sir John! + FALSTAFF. What! a young knave, and begging! Is there not wars? Is + there not employment? Doth not the King lack subjects? Do not the + rebels need soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but + one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, were + it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it. + SERVANT. You mistake me, sir. + FALSTAFF. Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? Setting my + knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied in my throat if I + had said so. + SERVANT. I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and your + soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you you in your + throat, if you say I am any other than an honest man. + FALSTAFF. I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside that which + grows to me! If thou get'st any leave of me, hang me; if thou + tak'st leave, thou wert better be hang'd. You hunt counter. + Hence! Avaunt! + SERVANT. Sir, my lord would speak with you. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Sir John Falstaff, a word with you. + FALSTAFF. My good lord! God give your lordship good time of day. I + am glad to see your lordship abroad. I heard say your lordship + was sick; I hope your lordship goes abroad by advice. Your + lordship, though not clean past your youth, hath yet some smack + of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time; and I most + humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverend care of your + health. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to + Shrewsbury. + FALSTAFF. An't please your lordship, I hear his Majesty is return'd + with some discomfort from Wales. + CHIEF JUSTICE. I talk not of his Majesty. You would not come when I + sent for you. + FALSTAFF. And I hear, moreover, his Highness is fall'n into this + same whoreson apoplexy. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Well God mend him! I pray you let me speak with you. + FALSTAFF. This apoplexy, as I take it, is a kind of lethargy, an't + please your lordship, a kind of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson + tingling. + CHIEF JUSTICE. What tell you me of it? Be it as it is. + FALSTAFF. It hath it original from much grief, from study, and + perturbation of the brain. I have read the cause of his effects + in Galen; it is a kind of deafness. + CHIEF JUSTICE. I think you are fall'n into the disease, for you + hear not what I say to you. + FALSTAFF. Very well, my lord, very well. Rather an't please you, it + is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that + I am troubled withal. + CHIEF JUSTICE. To punish you by the heels would amend the attention + of your ears; and I care not if I do become your physician. + FALSTAFF. I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient. Your + lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me in respect + of poverty; but how I should be your patient to follow your + prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or + indeed a scruple itself. + CHIEF JUSTICE. I sent for you, when there were matters against you + for your life, to come speak with me. + FALSTAFF. As I was then advis'd by my learned counsel in the laws + of this land-service, I did not come. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great + infamy. + FALSTAFF. He that buckles himself in my belt cannot live in less. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Your means are very slender, and your waste is + great. + FALSTAFF. I would it were otherwise; I would my means were greater + and my waist slenderer. + CHIEF JUSTICE. You have misled the youthful Prince. + FALSTAFF. The young Prince hath misled me. I am the fellow with the + great belly, and he my dog. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Well, I am loath to gall a new-heal'd wound. Your + day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your + night's exploit on Gadshill. You may thank th' unquiet time for + your quiet o'erposting that action. + FALSTAFF. My lord- + CHIEF JUSTICE. But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a + sleeping wolf. + FALSTAFF. To wake a wolf is as bad as smell a fox. + CHIEF JUSTICE. What! you are as a candle, the better part burnt + out. + FALSTAFF. A wassail candle, my lord- all tallow; if I did say of + wax, my growth would approve the truth. + CHIEF JUSTICE. There is not a white hair in your face but should + have his effect of gravity. + FALSTAFF. His effect of gravy, gravy, + CHIEF JUSTICE. You follow the young Prince up and down, like his + ill angel. + FALSTAFF. Not so, my lord. Your ill angel is light; but hope he + that looks upon me will take me without weighing. And yet in some + respects, I grant, I cannot go- I cannot tell. Virtue is of so + little regard in these costermongers' times that true valour is + turn'd berod; pregnancy is made a tapster, and his quick wit + wasted in giving reckonings; all the other gifts appertinent to + man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are not worth a + gooseberry. You that are old consider not the capacities of us + that are young; you do measure the heat of our livers with the + bitterness of your galls; and we that are in the vaward of our + youth, must confess, are wags too. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, + that are written down old with all the characters of age? Have + you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a + decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, + your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every + part about you blasted with antiquity? And will you yet call + yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John! + FALSTAFF. My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the + afternoon, with a white head and something a round belly. For my + voice- I have lost it with hallooing and singing of anthems. To + approve my youth further, I will not. The truth is, I am only old + in judgment and understanding; and he that will caper with me for + a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him. For + the box of the ear that the Prince gave you- he gave it like a + rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have check'd + him for it; and the young lion repents- marry, not in ashes and + sackcloth, but in new silk and old sack. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Well, God send the Prince a better companion! + FALSTAFF. God send the companion a better prince! I cannot rid my + hands of him. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Well, the King hath sever'd you. I hear you are + going with Lord John of Lancaster against the Archbishop and the + Earl of Northumberland. + FALSTAFF. Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look you + pray, all you that kiss my Lady Peace at home, that our armies + join not in a hot day; for, by the Lord, I take but two shirts + out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily. If it be a + hot day, and I brandish anything but a bottle, I would I might + never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep + out his head but I am thrust upon it. Well, I cannot last ever; + but it was alway yet the trick of our English nation, if they + have a good thing, to make it too common. If ye will needs say I + am an old man, you should give me rest. I would to God my name + were not so terrible to the enemy as it is. I were better to be + eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with + perpetual motion. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Well, be honest, be honest; and God bless your + expedition! + FALSTAFF. Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to furnish me + forth? + CHIEF JUSTICE. Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to + bear crosses. Fare you well. Commend me to my cousin + Westmoreland. + Exeunt CHIEF JUSTICE and SERVANT + FALSTAFF. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man can no + more separate age and covetousness than 'a can part young limbs + and lechery; but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the + other; and so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy! + PAGE. Sir? + FALSTAFF. What money is in my purse? + PAGE. Seven groats and two pence. + FALSTAFF. I can get no remedy against this consumption of the + purse; borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease + is incurable. Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster; this + to the Prince; this to the Earl of Westmoreland; and this to old + Mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I + perceiv'd the first white hair of my chin. About it; you know + where to find me. [Exit PAGE] A pox of this gout! or, a gout of + this pox! for the one or the other plays the rogue with my great + toe. 'Tis no matter if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, + and my pension shall seem the more reasonable. A good wit will + make use of anything. I will turn diseases to commodity. + Exit + + + + +SCENE III. +York. The ARCHBISHOP'S palace + +Enter the ARCHBISHOP, THOMAS MOWBRAY the EARL MARSHAL, LORD HASTINGS, +and LORD BARDOLPH + + ARCHBISHOP. Thus have you heard our cause and known our means; + And, my most noble friends, I pray you all + Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes- + And first, Lord Marshal, what say you to it? + MOWBRAY. I well allow the occasion of our amis; + But gladly would be better satisfied + How, in our means, we should advance ourselves + To look with forehead bold and big enough + Upon the power and puissance of the King. + HASTINGS. Our present musters grow upon the file + To five and twenty thousand men of choice; + And our supplies live largely in the hope + Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns + With an incensed fire of injuries. + LORD BARDOLPH. The question then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus: + Whether our present five and twenty thousand + May hold up head without Northumberland? + HASTINGS. With him, we may. + LORD BARDOLPH. Yea, marry, there's the point; + But if without him we be thought too feeble, + My judgment is we should not step too far + Till we had his assistance by the hand; + For, in a theme so bloody-fac'd as this, + Conjecture, expectation, and surmise + Of aids incertain, should not be admitted. + ARCHBISHOP. 'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph; for indeed + It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. + LORD BARDOLPH. It was, my lord; who lin'd himself with hope, + Eating the air and promise of supply, + Flatt'ring himself in project of a power + Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts; + And so, with great imagination + Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, + And, winking, leapt into destruction. + HASTINGS. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt + To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope. + LORD BARDOLPH. Yes, if this present quality of war- + Indeed the instant action, a cause on foot- + Lives so in hope, as in an early spring + We see th' appearing buds; which to prove fruit + Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair + That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build, + We first survey the plot, then draw the model; + And when we see the figure of the house, + Then we must rate the cost of the erection; + Which if we find outweighs ability, + What do we then but draw anew the model + In fewer offices, or at least desist + To build at all? Much more, in this great work- + Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down + And set another up- should we survey + The plot of situation and the model, + Consent upon a sure foundation, + Question surveyors, know our own estate + How able such a work to undergo- + To weigh against his opposite; or else + We fortify in paper and in figures, + Using the names of men instead of men; + Like one that draws the model of a house + Beyond his power to build it; who, half through, + Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost + A naked subject to the weeping clouds + And waste for churlish winter's tyranny. + HASTINGS. Grant that our hopes- yet likely of fair birth- + Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd + The utmost man of expectation, + I think we are so a body strong enough, + Even as we are, to equal with the King. + LORD BARDOLPH. What, is the King but five and twenty thousand? + HASTINGS. To us no more; nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph; + For his divisions, as the times do brawl, + Are in three heads: one power against the French, + And one against Glendower; perforce a third + Must take up us. So is the unfirm King + In three divided; and his coffers sound + With hollow poverty and emptiness. + ARCHBISHOP. That he should draw his several strengths together + And come against us in full puissance + Need not be dreaded. + HASTINGS. If he should do so, + He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh + Baying at his heels. Never fear that. + LORD BARDOLPH. Who is it like should lead his forces hither? + HASTINGS. The Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland; + Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth; + But who is substituted against the French + I have no certain notice. + ARCHBISHOP. Let us on, + And publish the occasion of our arms. + The commonwealth is sick of their own choice; + Their over-greedy love hath surfeited. + An habitation giddy and unsure + Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. + O thou fond many, with what loud applause + Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke + Before he was what thou wouldst have him be! + And being now trimm'd in thine own desires, + Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him + That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. + So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge + Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard; + And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, + And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these times? + They that, when Richard liv'd, would have him die + Are now become enamour'd on his grave. + Thou that threw'st dust upon his goodly head, + When through proud London he came sighing on + After th' admired heels of Bolingbroke, + Criest now 'O earth, yield us that king again, + And take thou this!' O thoughts of men accurs'd! + Past and to come seems best; things present, worst. + MOWBRAY. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on? + HASTINGS. We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. + Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +London. A street + +Enter HOSTESS with two officers, FANG and SNARE + + HOSTESS. Master Fang, have you ent'red the action? + FANG. It is ent'red. + HOSTESS. Where's your yeoman? Is't a lusty yeoman? Will 'a stand + to't? + FANG. Sirrah, where's Snare? + HOSTESS. O Lord, ay! good Master Snare. + SNARE. Here, here. + FANG. Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff. + HOSTESS. Yea, good Master Snare; I have ent'red him and all. + SNARE. It may chance cost some of our lives, for he will stab. + HOSTESS. Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabb'd me in mine own + house, and that most beastly. In good faith, 'a cares not what + mischief he does, if his weapon be out; he will foin like any + devil; he will spare neither man, woman, nor child. + FANG. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. + HOSTESS. No, nor I neither; I'll be at your elbow. + FANG. An I but fist him once; an 'a come but within my vice! + HOSTESS. I am undone by his going; I warrant you, he's an + infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang, hold him sure. + Good Master Snare, let him not scape. 'A comes continuantly to + Pie-corner- saving your manhoods- to buy a saddle; and he is + indited to dinner to the Lubber's Head in Lumbert Street, to + Master Smooth's the silkman. I pray you, since my exion is + ent'red, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be + brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long one for a poor + lone woman to bear; and I have borne, and borne, and borne; and + have been fubb'd off, and fubb'd off, and fubb'd off, from this + day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no + honesty in such dealing; unless a woman should be made an ass and + a beast, to bear every knave's wrong. + + Enter SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, PAGE, and BARDOLPH + + Yonder he comes; and that arrant malmsey-nose knave, Bardolph, + with him. Do your offices, do your offices, Master Fang and + Master Snare; do me, do me, do me your offices. + FALSTAFF. How now! whose mare's dead? What's the matter? + FANG. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly. + FALSTAFF. Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph. Cut me off the villian's + head. Throw the quean in the channel. + HOSTESS. Throw me in the channel! I'll throw thee in the channel. + Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue! Murder, murder! Ah, + thou honeysuckle villain! wilt thou kill God's officers and the + King's? Ah, thou honey-seed rogue! thou art a honey-seed; a + man-queller and a woman-queller. + FALSTAFF. Keep them off, Bardolph. + FANG. A rescue! a rescue! + HOSTESS. Good people, bring a rescue or two. Thou wot, wot thou! + thou wot, wot ta? Do, do, thou rogue! do, thou hemp-seed! + PAGE. Away, you scullion! you rampallian! you fustilarian! + I'll tickle your catastrophe. + + Enter the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE and his men + + CHIEF JUSTICE. What is the matter? Keep the peace here, ho! + HOSTESS. Good my lord, be good to me. I beseech you, stand to me. + CHIEF JUSTICE. How now, Sir John! what, are you brawling here? + Doth this become your place, your time, and business? + You should have been well on your way to York. + Stand from him, fellow; wherefore hang'st thou upon him? + HOSTESS. O My most worshipful lord, an't please your Grace, I am a + poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit. + CHIEF JUSTICE. For what sum? + HOSTESS. It is more than for some, my lord; it is for all- all I + have. He hath eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all my + substance into that fat belly of his. But I will have some of it + out again, or I will ride thee a nights like a mare. + FALSTAFF. I think I am as like to ride the mare, if I have any + vantage of ground to get up. + CHIEF JUSTICE. How comes this, Sir John? Fie! What man of good + temper would endure this tempest of exclamation? Are you not + ashamed to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course to come by + her own? + FALSTAFF. What is the gross sum that I owe thee? + HOSTESS. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself and the money + too. Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in + my Dolphin chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon + Wednesday in Wheeson week, when the Prince broke thy head for + liking his father to singing-man of Windsor- thou didst swear to + me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me and make me my + lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife Keech, the + butcher's wife, come in then and call me gossip Quickly? Coming + in to borrow a mess of vinegar, telling us she had a good dish of + prawns, whereby thou didst desire to eat some, whereby I told + thee they were ill for green wound? And didst thou not, when she + was gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity with + such poor people, saying that ere long they should call me madam? + And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch the thirty + shillings? I put thee now to thy book-oath. Deny it, if thou + canst. + FALSTAFF. My lord, this is a poor mad soul, and she says up and + down the town that her eldest son is like you. She hath been in + good case, and, the truth is, poverty hath distracted her. But + for these foolish officers, I beseech you I may have redress + against them. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your + manner of wrenching the true cause the false way. It is not a + confident brow, nor the throng of words that come with such more + than impudent sauciness from you, can thrust me from a level + consideration. You have, as it appears to me, practis'd upon the + easy yielding spirit of this woman, and made her serve your uses + both in purse and in person. + HOSTESS. Yea, in truth, my lord. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Pray thee, peace. Pay her the debt you owe her, and + unpay the villainy you have done with her; the one you may do + with sterling money, and the other with current repentance. + FALSTAFF. My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without reply. You + call honourable boldness impudent sauciness; if a man will make + curtsy and say nothing, he is virtuous. No, my lord, my humble + duty rememb'red, I will not be your suitor. I say to you I do + desire deliverance from these officers, being upon hasty + employment in the King's affairs. + CHIEF JUSTICE. You speak as having power to do wrong; but answer in + th' effect of your reputation, and satisfy the poor woman. + FALSTAFF. Come hither, hostess. + + Enter GOWER + + CHIEF JUSTICE. Now, Master Gower, what news? + GOWER. The King, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales + Are near at hand. The rest the paper tells. [Gives a letter] + FALSTAFF. As I am a gentleman! + HOSTESS. Faith, you said so before. + FALSTAFF. As I am a gentleman! Come, no more words of it. + HOSTESS. By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn + both my plate and the tapestry of my dining-chambers. + FALSTAFF. Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking; and for thy + walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or + the German hunting, in water-work, is worth a thousand of these + bed-hangers and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, + if thou canst. Come, and 'twere not for thy humours, there's not + a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw the + action. Come, thou must not be in this humour with me; dost not + know me? Come, come, I know thou wast set on to this. + HOSTESS. Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles; + i' faith, I am loath to pawn my plate, so God save me, la! + FALSTAFF. Let it alone; I'll make other shift. You'll be a fool + still. + HOSTESS. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. + I hope you'll come to supper. you'll pay me all together? + FALSTAFF. Will I live? [To BARDOLPH] Go, with her, with her; hook + on, hook on. + HOSTESS. Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper? + FALSTAFF. No more words; let's have her. + Exeunt HOSTESS, BARDOLPH, and OFFICERS + CHIEF JUSTICE. I have heard better news. + FALSTAFF. What's the news, my lord? + CHIEF JUSTICE. Where lay the King to-night? + GOWER. At Basingstoke, my lord. + FALSTAFF. I hope, my lord, all's well. What is the news, my lord? + CHIEF JUSTICE. Come all his forces back? + GOWER. No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse, + Are march'd up to my Lord of Lancaster, + Against Northumberland and the Archbishop. + FALSTAFF. Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord? + CHIEF JUSTICE. You shall have letters of me presently. + Come, go along with me, good Master Gower. + FALSTAFF. My lord! + CHIEF JUSTICE. What's the matter? + FALSTAFF. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner? + GOWER. I must wait upon my good lord here, I thank you, good Sir + John. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to + take soldiers up in counties as you go. + FALSTAFF. Will you sup with me, Master Gower? + CHIEF JUSTICE. What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir + John? + FALSTAFF. Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that + taught them me. This is the right fencing grace, my lord; tap for + tap, and so part fair. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Now, the Lord lighten thee! Thou art a great fool. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +London. Another street + +Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS + + PRINCE. Before God, I am exceeding weary. + POINS. Is't come to that? I had thought weariness durst not have + attach'd one of so high blood. + PRINCE. Faith, it does me; though it discolours the complexion of + my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me to + desire small beer? + POINS. Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as to + remember so weak a composition. + PRINCE. Belike then my appetite was not-princely got; for, by my + troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. But + indeed these humble considerations make me out of love with my + greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name, or + to know thy face to-morrow, or to take note how many pair of silk + stockings thou hast- viz., these, and those that were thy + peach-colour'd ones- or to bear the inventory of thy shirts- as, + one for superfluity, and another for use! But that the + tennis-court-keeper knows better than I; for it is a low ebb of + linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast + not done a great while, because the rest of thy low countries + have made a shift to eat up thy holland. And God knows whether + those that bawl out of the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his + kingdom; but the midwives say the children are not in the fault; + whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily + strengthened. + POINS. How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard, you + should talk so idly! Tell me, how many good young princes would + do so, their fathers being so sick as yours at this time is? + PRINCE. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? + POINS. Yes, faith; and let it be an excellent good thing. + PRINCE. It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine. + POINS. Go to; I stand the push of your one thing that you will + tell. + PRINCE. Marry, I tell thee it is not meet that I should be sad, now + my father is sick; albeit I could tell to thee- as to one it + pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend- I could be + sad and sad indeed too. + POINS. Very hardly upon such a subject. + PRINCE. By this hand, thou thinkest me as far in the devil's book + as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and persistency: let the end + try the man. But I tell thee my heart bleeds inwardly that my + father is so sick; and keeping such vile company as thou art hath + in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow. + POINS. The reason? + PRINCE. What wouldst thou think of me if I should weep? + POINS. I would think thee a most princely hypocrite. + PRINCE. It would be every man's thought; and thou art a blessed + fellow to think as every man thinks. Never a man's thought in the + world keeps the road-way better than thine. Every man would think + me an hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most worshipful + thought to think so? + POINS. Why, because you have been so lewd and so much engraffed to + Falstaff. + PRINCE. And to thee. + POINS. By this light, I am well spoke on; I can hear it with mine + own ears. The worst that they can say of me is that I am a second + brother and that I am a proper fellow of my hands; and those two + things, I confess, I cannot help. By the mass, here comes + Bardolph. + + Enter BARDOLPH and PAGE + + PRINCE. And the boy that I gave Falstaff. 'A had him from me + Christian; and look if the fat villain have not transform'd him + ape. + BARDOLPH. God save your Grace! + PRINCE. And yours, most noble Bardolph! + POINS. Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you be + blushing? Wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man-at-arms + are you become! Is't such a matter to get a pottle-pot's + maidenhead? + PAGE. 'A calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I + could discern no part of his face from the window. At last I + spied his eyes; and methought he had made two holes in the + alewife's new petticoat, and so peep'd through. + PRINCE. Has not the boy profited? + BARDOLPH. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away! + PAGE. Away, you rascally Althaea's dream, away! + PRINCE. Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy? + PAGE. Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamt she was delivered of a + firebrand; and therefore I call him her dream. + PRINCE. A crown's worth of good interpretation. There 'tis, boy. + [Giving a crown] + POINS. O that this blossom could be kept from cankers! + Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee. + BARDOLPH. An you do not make him be hang'd among you, the gallows + shall have wrong. + PRINCE. And how doth thy master, Bardolph? + BARDOLPH. Well, my lord. He heard of your Grace's coming to town. + There's a letter for you. + POINS. Deliver'd with good respect. And how doth the martlemas, + your master? + BARDOLPH. In bodily health, sir. + POINS. Marry, the immortal part needs a physician; but that moves + not him. Though that be sick, it dies not. + PRINCE. I do allow this well to be as familiar with me as my dog; + and he holds his place, for look you how he writes. + POINS. [Reads] 'John Falstaff, knight'- Every man must know that + as oft as he has occasion to name himself, even like those that + are kin to the King; for they never prick their finger but they + say 'There's some of the King's blood spilt.' 'How comes that?' + says he that takes upon him not to conceive. The answer is as + ready as a borrower's cap: 'I am the King's poor cousin, sir.' + PRINCE. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from + Japhet. But the letter: [Reads] 'Sir John Falstaff, knight, to + the son of the King nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, + greeting.' + POINS. Why, this is a certificate. + PRINCE. Peace! [Reads] 'I will imitate the honourable Romans in + brevity.'- + POINS. He sure means brevity in breath, short-winded. + PRINCE. [Reads] 'I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I + leave thee. Be not too familiar with Poins; for he misuses thy + favours so much that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. + Repent at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell. + Thine, by yea and no- which is as much as to say as + thou usest him- JACK FALSTAFF with my familiars, + JOHN with my brothers and sisters, and SIR JOHN with + all Europe.' + POINS. My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it. + PRINCE. That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do you use + me thus, Ned? Must I marry your sister? + POINS. God send the wench no worse fortune! But I never said so. + PRINCE. Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits + of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. Is your master here in + London? + BARDOLPH. Yea, my lord. + PRINCE. Where sups he? Doth the old boar feed in the old frank? + BARDOLPH. At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap. + PRINCE. What company? + PAGE. Ephesians, my lord, of the old church. + PRINCE. Sup any women with him? + PAGE. None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll + Tearsheet. + PRINCE. What pagan may that be? + PAGE. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master's. + PRINCE. Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull. + Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper? + POINS. I am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow you. + PRINCE. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master that + I am yet come to town. There's for your silence. + BARDOLPH. I have no tongue, sir. + PAGE. And for mine, sir, I will govern it. + PRINCE. Fare you well; go. Exeunt BARDOLPH and PAGE + This Doll Tearsheet should be some road. + POINS. I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Albans and + London. + PRINCE. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his + true colours, and not ourselves be seen? + POINS. Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at + his table as drawers. + PRINCE. From a god to a bull? A heavy descension! It was Jove's + case. From a prince to a prentice? A low transformation! That + shall be mine; for in everything the purpose must weigh with the + folly. Follow me, Ned. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Warkworth. Before the castle + +Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCY + + NORTHUMBERLAND. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter, + Give even way unto my rough affairs; + Put not you on the visage of the times + And be, like them, to Percy troublesome. + LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. I have given over, I will speak no more. + Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn; + And but my going nothing can redeem it. + LADY PERCY. O, yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars! + The time was, father, that you broke your word, + When you were more endear'd to it than now; + When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, + Threw many a northward look to see his father + Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. + Who then persuaded you to stay at home? + There were two honours lost, yours and your son's. + For yours, the God of heaven brighten it! + For his, it stuck upon him as the sun + In the grey vault of heaven; and by his light + Did all the chivalry of England move + To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass + Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. + He had no legs that practis'd not his gait; + And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, + Became the accents of the valiant; + For those who could speak low and tardily + Would turn their own perfection to abuse + To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait, + In diet, in affections of delight, + In military rules, humours of blood, + He was the mark and glass, copy and book, + That fashion'd others. And him- O wondrous him! + O miracle of men!- him did you leave- + Second to none, unseconded by you- + To look upon the hideous god of war + In disadvantage, to abide a field + Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name + Did seem defensible. So you left him. + Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong + To hold your honour more precise and nice + With others than with him! Let them alone. + The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong. + Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, + To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, + Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Beshrew your heart, + Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me + With new lamenting ancient oversights. + But I must go and meet with danger there, + Or it will seek me in another place, + And find me worse provided. + LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. O, fly to Scotland + Till that the nobles and the armed commons + Have of their puissance made a little taste. + LADY PERCY. If they get ground and vantage of the King, + Then join you with them, like a rib of steel, + To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, + First let them try themselves. So did your son; + He was so suff'red; so came I a widow; + And never shall have length of life enough + To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, + That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, + For recordation to my noble husband. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind + As with the tide swell'd up unto his height, + That makes a still-stand, running neither way. + Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop, + But many thousand reasons hold me back. + I will resolve for Scotland. There am I, + Till time and vantage crave my company. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +London. The Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap + +Enter FRANCIS and another DRAWER + + FRANCIS. What the devil hast thou brought there-apple-johns? Thou + knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john. + SECOND DRAWER. Mass, thou say'st true. The Prince once set a dish + of apple-johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir + Johns; and, putting off his hat, said 'I will now take my leave + of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.' It ang'red him + to the heart; but he hath forgot that. + FRANCIS. Why, then, cover and set them down; and see if thou canst + find out Sneak's noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain hear some + music. + + Enter third DRAWER + + THIRD DRAWER. Dispatch! The room where they supp'd is too hot; + they'll come in straight. + FRANCIS. Sirrah, here will be the Prince and Master Poins anon; and + they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons; and Sir John must + not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word. + THIRD DRAWER. By the mass, here will be old uds; it will be an + excellent stratagem. + SECOND DRAWER. I'll see if I can find out Sneak. + Exeunt second and third DRAWERS + + Enter HOSTESS and DOLL TEARSHEET + + HOSTESS. I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an excellent + good temperality. Your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as heart + would desire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any + rose, in good truth, la! But, i' faith, you have drunk too much + canaries; and that's a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes + the blood ere one can say 'What's this?' How do you now? + DOLL. Better than I was- hem. + HOSTESS. Why, that's well said; a good heart's worth gold. + Lo, here comes Sir John. + + Enter FALSTAFF + + FALSTAFF. [Singing] 'When Arthur first in court'- Empty the + jordan. [Exit FRANCIS]- [Singing] 'And was a worthy king'- How + now, Mistress Doll! + HOSTESS. Sick of a calm; yea, good faith. + FALSTAFF. So is all her sect; and they be once in a calm, they are + sick. + DOLL. A pox damn you, you muddy rascal! Is that all the comfort you + give me? + FALSTAFF. You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll. + DOLL. I make them! Gluttony and diseases make them: I make them + not. + FALSTAFF. If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make + the diseases, Doll. We catch of you, Doll, we catch of you; grant + that, my poor virtue, grant that. + DOLL. Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels. + FALSTAFF. 'Your brooches, pearls, and ouches.' For to serve bravely + is to come halting off; you know, to come off the breach with his + pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely; to venture upon the + charg'd chambers bravely- + DOLL. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself! + HOSTESS. By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never meet + but you fall to some discord. You are both, i' good truth, as + rheumatic as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear with another's + confirmities. What the good-year! one must bear, and that must be + you. You are the weaker vessel, as as they say, the emptier + vessel. + DOLL. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogs-head? + There's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him; you + have not seen a hulk better stuff'd in the hold. Come, I'll be + friends with thee, Jack. Thou art going to the wars; and whether + I shall ever see thee again or no, there is nobody cares. + + Re-enter FRANCIS + + FRANCIS. Sir, Ancient Pistol's below and would speak with you. + DOLL. Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come hither; it is + the foul-mouth'dst rogue in England. + HOSTESS. If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith! I + must live among my neighbours; I'll no swaggerers. I am in good + name and fame with the very best. Shut the door. There comes no + swaggerers here; I have not liv'd all this while to have + swaggering now. Shut the door, I pray you. + FALSTAFF. Dost thou hear, hostess? + HOSTESS. Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John; there comes no + swaggerers here. + FALSTAFF. Dost thou hear? It is mine ancient. + HOSTESS. Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me; and your ancient + swagg'rer comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick, the + debuty, t' other day; and, as he said to me- 'twas no longer ago + than Wednesday last, i' good faith!- 'Neighbour Quickly,' says + he- Master Dumbe, our minister, was by then- 'Neighbour Quickly,' + says he 'receive those that are civil, for' said he 'you are in + an ill name.' Now 'a said so, I can tell whereupon. 'For' says he + 'you are an honest woman and well thought on, therefore take heed + what guests you receive. Receive' says he 'no swaggering + companions.' There comes none here. You would bless you to hear + what he said. No, I'll no swagg'rers. + FALSTAFF. He's no swagg'rer, hostess; a tame cheater, i' faith; you + may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound. He'll not swagger + with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of + resistance. Call him up, drawer. + Exit FRANCIS + HOSTESS. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, + nor no cheater; but I do not love swaggering, by my troth. I am + the worse when one says 'swagger.' Feel, masters, how I shake; + look you, I warrant you. + DOLL. So you do, hostess. + HOSTESS. Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen leaf. I + cannot abide swagg'rers. + + Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and PAGE + + PISTOL. God save you, Sir John! + FALSTAFF. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with + a cup of sack; do you discharge upon mine hostess. + PISTOL. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets. + FALSTAFF. She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall not hardly offend + her. + HOSTESS. Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets. I'll drink no + more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I. + PISTOL. Then to you, Mistress Dorothy; I will charge you. + DOLL. Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion. What! you poor, + base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy + rogue, away! I am meat for your master. + PISTOL. I know you, Mistress Dorothy. + DOLL. Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this + wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the + saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you + basket-hilt stale juggler, you! Since when, I pray you, sir? + God's light, with two points on your shoulder? Much! + PISTOL. God let me not live but I will murder your ruff for this. + FALSTAFF. No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here. + Discharge yourself of our company, Pistol. + HOSTESS. No, good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain. + DOLL. Captain! Thou abominable damn'd cheater, art thou not ashamed + to be called captain? An captains were of my mind, they would + truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you + have earn'd them. You a captain! you slave, for what? For tearing + a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He a captain! hang him, + rogue! He lives upon mouldy stew'd prunes and dried cakes. A + captain! God's light, these villains will make the word as odious + as the word 'occupy'; which was an excellent good word before it + was ill sorted. Therefore captains had need look to't. + BARDOLPH. Pray thee go down, good ancient. + FALSTAFF. Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll. + PISTOL. Not I! I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear + her; I'll be reveng'd of her. + PAGE. Pray thee go down. + PISTOL. I'll see her damn'd first; to Pluto's damn'd lake, by this + hand, to th' infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. + Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! down, faitors! Have + we not Hiren here? + HOSTESS. Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late, i' faith; I + beseek you now, aggravate your choler. + PISTOL. These be good humours, indeed! Shall packhorses, + And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia, + Which cannot go but thirty mile a day, + Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals, + And Troiant Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with + King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar. + Shall we fall foul for toys? + HOSTESS. By my troth, Captain, these are very bitter words. + BARDOLPH. Be gone, good ancient; this will grow to a brawl anon. + PISTOL. Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not Hiren + here? + HOSTESS. O' my word, Captain, there's none such here. What the + good-year! do you think I would deny her? For God's sake, be + quiet. + PISTOL. Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis. + Come, give's some sack. + 'Si fortune me tormente sperato me contento.' + Fear we broadsides? No, let the fiend give fire. + Give me some sack; and, sweetheart, lie thou there. + [Laying down his sword] + Come we to full points here, and are etceteras nothings? + FALSTAFF. Pistol, I would be quiet. + PISTOL. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What! we have seen the seven + stars. + DOLL. For God's sake thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure such a + fustian rascal. + PISTOL. Thrust him down stairs! Know we not Galloway nags? + FALSTAFF. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling. + Nay, an 'a do nothing but speak nothing, 'a shall be nothing + here. + BARDOLPH. Come, get you down stairs. + PISTOL. What! shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue? + [Snatching up his sword] + Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days! + Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds + Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say! + HOSTESS. Here's goodly stuff toward! + FALSTAFF. Give me my rapier, boy. + DOLL. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw. + FALSTAFF. Get you down stairs. + [Drawing and driving PISTOL out] + HOSTESS. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house afore + I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant now. + Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons. + Exeunt PISTOL and BARDOLPH + DOLL. I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah, you + whoreson little valiant villain, you! + HOSTESS. Are you not hurt i' th' groin? Methought 'a made a shrewd + thrust at your belly. + + Re-enter BARDOLPH + + FALSTAFF. Have you turn'd him out a doors? + BARDOLPH. Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk. You have hurt him, sir, i' + th' shoulder. + FALSTAFF. A rascal! to brave me! + DOLL. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou + sweat'st! Come, let me wipe thy face. Come on, you whoreson + chops. Ah, rogue! i' faith, I love thee. Thou art as valorous as + Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better + than the Nine Worthies. Ah, villain! + FALSTAFF. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket. + DOLL. Do, an thou dar'st for thy heart. An thou dost, I'll canvass + thee between a pair of sheets. + + Enter musicians + + PAGE. The music is come, sir. + FALSTAFF. Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Don. A rascal + bragging slave! The rogue fled from me like quick-silver. + DOLL. I' faith, and thou follow'dst him like a church. Thou + whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave + fighting a days and foining a nights, and begin to patch up thine + old body for heaven? + + Enter, behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS disguised as drawers + + FALSTAFF. Peace, good Doll! Do not speak like a death's-head; do + not bid me remember mine end. + DOLL. Sirrah, what humour's the Prince of? + FALSTAFF. A good shallow young fellow. 'A would have made a good + pantler; 'a would ha' chipp'd bread well. + DOLL. They say Poins has a good wit. + FALSTAFF. He a good wit! hang him, baboon! His wit's as thick as + Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him than is in a + mallet. + DOLL. Why does the Prince love him so, then? + FALSTAFF. Because their legs are both of a bigness, and 'a plays at + quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, and drinks off candles' + ends for flap-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys, and + jumps upon join'd-stools, and swears with a good grace, and wears + his boots very smooth, like unto the sign of the Leg, and breeds + no bate with telling of discreet stories; and such other gambol + faculties 'a has, that show a weak mind and an able body, for the + which the Prince admits him. For the Prince himself is such + another; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their + avoirdupois. + PRINCE. Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off? + POINS. Let's beat him before his whore. + PRINCE. Look whe'er the wither'd elder hath not his poll claw'd + like a parrot. + POINS. Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive + performance? + FALSTAFF. Kiss me, Doll. + PRINCE. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! What says th' + almanac to that? + POINS. And look whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not lisping + to his master's old tables, his note-book, his counsel-keeper. + FALSTAFF. Thou dost give me flattering busses. + DOLL. By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart. + FALSTAFF. I am old, I am old. + DOLL. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of + them all. + FALSTAFF. What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive money a + Thursday. Shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come. 'A + grows late; we'll to bed. Thou't forget me when I am gone. + DOLL. By my troth, thou't set me a-weeping, an thou say'st so. + Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return. Well, + hearken a' th' end. + FALSTAFF. Some sack, Francis. + PRINCE & POINS. Anon, anon, sir. [Advancing] + FALSTAFF. Ha! a bastard son of the King's? And art thou not Poins + his brother? + PRINCE. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost thou + lead! + FALSTAFF. A better than thou. I am a gentleman: thou art a drawer. + PRINCE. Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by the ears. + HOSTESS. O, the Lord preserve thy Grace! By my troth, welcome to + London. Now the Lord bless that sweet face of thine. O Jesu, are + you come from Wales? + FALSTAFF. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light + flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome. + [Leaning his band upon DOLL] + DOLL. How, you fat fool! I scorn you. + POINS. My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and turn all + to a merriment, if you take not the heat. + PRINCE. YOU whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you speak of + me even now before this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman! + HOSTESS. God's blessing of your good heart! and so she is, by my + troth. + FALSTAFF. Didst thou hear me? + PRINCE. Yea; and you knew me, as you did when you ran away by + Gadshill. You knew I was at your back, and spoke it on purpose to + try my patience. + FALSTAFF. No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within + hearing. + PRINCE. I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse, and + then I know how to handle you. + FALSTAFF. No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour; no abuse. + PRINCE. Not- to dispraise me, and call me pander, and + bread-chipper, and I know not what! + FALSTAFF. No abuse, Hal. + POINS. No abuse! + FALSTAFF. No abuse, Ned, i' th' world; honest Ned, none. I + disprais'd him before the wicked- that the wicked might not fall + in love with thee; in which doing, I have done the part of a + careful friend and a true subject; and thy father is to give me + thanks for it. No abuse, Hal; none, Ned, none; no, faith, boys, + none. + PRINCE. See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth not + make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us? Is + she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is thy + boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his + nose, of the wicked? + POINS. Answer, thou dead elm, answer. + FALSTAFF. The fiend hath prick'd down Bardolph irrecoverable; and + his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing but + roast malt-worms. For the boy- there is a good angel about him; + but the devil outbids him too. + PRINCE. For the women? + FALSTAFF. For one of them- she's in hell already, and burns poor + souls. For th' other- I owe her money; and whether she be damn'd + for that, I know not. + HOSTESS. No, I warrant you. + FALSTAFF. No, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit for that. + Marry, there is another indictment upon thee for suffering flesh + to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which I + think thou wilt howl. + HOSTESS. All vict'lers do so. What's a joint of mutton or two in a + whole Lent? + PRINCE. You, gentlewoman- + DOLL. What says your Grace? + FALSTAFF. His Grace says that which his flesh rebels against. + [Knocking within] + HOSTESS. Who knocks so loud at door? Look to th' door there, + Francis. + + Enter PETO + + PRINCE. Peto, how now! What news? + PETO. The King your father is at Westminster; + And there are twenty weak and wearied posts + Come from the north; and as I came along + I met and overtook a dozen captains, + Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, + And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff. + PRINCE. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame + So idly to profane the precious time, + When tempest of commotion, like the south, + Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt + And drop upon our bare unarmed heads. + Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night. + + Exeunt PRINCE, POINS, PETO, and BARDOLPH + + FALSTAFF. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we + must hence, and leave it unpick'd. [Knocking within] More + knocking at the door! + + Re-enter BARDOLPH + + How now! What's the matter? + BARDOLPH. You must away to court, sir, presently; + A dozen captains stay at door for you. + FALSTAFF. [To the PAGE]. Pay the musicians, sirrah.- Farewell, + hostess; farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, how men of + merit are sought after; the undeserver may sleep, when the man of + action is call'd on. Farewell, good wenches. If I be not sent + away post, I will see you again ere I go. + DOLL. I cannot speak. If my heart be not ready to burst! + Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. + FALSTAFF. Farewell, farewell. + Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH + HOSTESS. Well, fare thee well. I have known thee these twenty-nine + years, come peascod-time; but an honester and truer-hearted man + -well fare thee well. + BARDOLPH. [ Within] Mistress Tearsheet! + HOSTESS. What's the matter? + BARDOLPH. [ Within] Bid Mistress Tearsheet come to my master. + HOSTESS. O, run Doll, run, run, good Come. [To BARDOLPH] She + comes blubber'd.- Yea, will you come, Doll? Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Westminster. The palace + +Enter the KING in his nightgown, with a page + + KING. Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick; + But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters + And well consider of them. Make good speed. Exit page + How many thousands of my poorest subjects + Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep, + Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, + That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, + And steep my senses in forgetfulness? + Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, + Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, + And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, + Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, + Under the canopies of costly state, + And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody? + O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile + In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch + A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell? + Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast + Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains + In cradle of the rude imperious surge, + And in the visitation of the winds, + Who take the ruffian billows by the top, + Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them + With deafing clamour in the slippery clouds, + That with the hurly death itself awakes? + Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose + To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; + And in the calmest and most stillest night, + With all appliances and means to boot, + Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down! + Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. + + Enter WARWICK and Surrey + + WARWICK. Many good morrows to your Majesty! + KING. Is it good morrow, lords? + WARWICK. 'Tis one o'clock, and past. + KING. Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords. + Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? + WARWICK. We have, my liege. + KING. Then you perceive the body of our kingdom + How foul it is; what rank diseases grow, + And with what danger, near the heart of it. + WARWICK. It is but as a body yet distempered; + Which to his former strength may be restored + With good advice and little medicine. + My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd. + KING. O God! that one might read the book of fate, + And see the revolution of the times + Make mountains level, and the continent, + Weary of solid firmness, melt itself + Into the sea; and other times to see + The beachy girdle of the ocean + Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, + And changes fill the cup of alteration + With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, + The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, + What perils past, what crosses to ensue, + Would shut the book and sit him down and die. + 'Tis not ten years gone + Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, + Did feast together, and in two years after + Were they at wars. It is but eight years since + This Percy was the man nearest my soul; + Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs + And laid his love and life under my foot; + Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard + Gave him defiance. But which of you was by- + [To WARWICK] You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember- + When Richard, with his eye brim full of tears, + Then check'd and rated by Northumberland, + Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy? + 'Northumberland, thou ladder by the which + My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne'- + Though then, God knows, I had no such intent + But that necessity so bow'd the state + That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss- + 'The time shall come'- thus did he follow it- + 'The time will come that foul sin, gathering head, + Shall break into corruption' so went on, + Foretelling this same time's condition + And the division of our amity. + WARWICK. There is a history in all men's lives, + Figuring the natures of the times deceas'd; + The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, + With a near aim, of the main chance of things + As yet not come to life, who in their seeds + And weak beginning lie intreasured. + Such things become the hatch and brood of time; + And, by the necessary form of this, + King Richard might create a perfect guess + That great Northumberland, then false to him, + Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness; + Which should not find a ground to root upon + Unless on you. + KING. Are these things then necessities? + Then let us meet them like necessities; + And that same word even now cries out on us. + They say the Bishop and Northumberland + Are fifty thousand strong. + WARWICK. It cannot be, my lord. + Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, + The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace + To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord, + The powers that you already have sent forth + Shall bring this prize in very easily. + To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd + A certain instance that Glendower is dead. + Your Majesty hath been this fortnight ill; + And these unseasoned hours perforce must ad + Unto your sickness. + KING. I will take your counsel. + And, were these inward wars once out of hand, + We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Gloucestershire. Before Justice, SHALLOW'S house + +Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, +and servants behind + + SHALLOW. Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, sir; give me + your hand, sir. An early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth my + good cousin Silence? + SILENCE. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. + SHALLOW. And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow? and your fairest + daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen? + SILENCE. Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow! + SHALLOW. By yea and no, sir. I dare say my cousin William is become + a good scholar; he is at Oxford still, is he not? + SILENCE. Indeed, sir, to my cost. + SHALLOW. 'A must, then, to the Inns o' Court shortly. I was once of + Clement's Inn; where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet. + SILENCE. You were call'd 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin. + SHALLOW. By the mass, I was call'd anything; and I would have done + anything indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and little + John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis + Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotsole man- you had not four such + swinge-bucklers in all the Inns of Court again. And I may say to + you we knew where the bona-robas were, and had the best of them + all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, boy, + and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. + SILENCE. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about + soldiers? + SHALLOW. The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break + Scoggin's head at the court gate, when 'a was a crack not thus + high; and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson + Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad + days that I have spent! and to see how many of my old + acquaintance are dead! + SILENCE. We shall all follow, cousin. + SHALLOW. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure. Death, as the + Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke + of bullocks at Stamford fair? + SILENCE. By my troth, I was not there. + SHALLOW. Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet? + SILENCE. Dead, sir. + SHALLOW. Jesu, Jesu, dead! drew a good bow; and dead! 'A shot a + fine shoot. John a Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on + his head. Dead! 'A would have clapp'd i' th' clout at twelve + score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen + and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see. + How a score of ewes now? + SILENCE. Thereafter as they be- a score of good ewes may be worth + ten pounds. + SHALLOW. And is old Double dead? + + Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him + + SILENCE. Here come two of Sir John Falstaffs men, as I think. + SHALLOW. Good morrow, honest gentlemen. + BARDOLPH. I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow? + SHALLOW. I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of this county, + and one of the King's justices of the peace. What is your good + pleasure with me? + BARDOLPH. My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, Sir + John Falstaff- a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant + leader. + SHALLOW. He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good back-sword man. + How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady his wife doth? + BARDOLPH. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than with a + wife. + SHALLOW. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said indeed + too. 'Better accommodated!' It is good; yea, indeed, is it. Good + phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. + 'Accommodated!' It comes of accommodo. Very good; a good phrase. + BARDOLPH. Pardon, sir; I have heard the word. 'Phrase' call you it? + By this day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word + with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding + good command, by heaven. Accommodated: that is, when a man is, as + they say, accommodated; or, when a man is being-whereby 'a may be + thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing. + + Enter FALSTAFF + + SHALLOW. It is very just. Look, here comes good Sir John. Give me + your good hand, give me your worship's good hand. By my troth, + you like well and bear your years very well. Welcome, good Sir + John. + FALSTAFF. I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow. + Master Surecard, as I think? + SHALLOW. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with + me. + FALSTAFF. Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of the + peace. + SILENCE. Your good worship is welcome. + FALSTAFF. Fie! this is hot weather. Gentlemen, have you provided me + here half a dozen sufficient men? + SHALLOW. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit? + FALSTAFF. Let me see them, I beseech you. + SHALLOW. Where's the roll? Where's the roll? Where's the roll? Let + me see, let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so,- so, so- yea, + marry, sir. Rafe Mouldy! Let them appear as I call; let them do + so, let them do so. Let me see; where is Mouldy? + MOULDY. Here, an't please you. + SHALLOW. What think you, Sir John? A good-limb'd fellow; young, + strong, and of good friends. + FALSTAFF. Is thy name Mouldy? + MOULDY. Yea, an't please you. + FALSTAFF. 'Tis the more time thou wert us'd. + SHALLOW. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! Things that are + mouldy lack use. Very singular good! In faith, well said, Sir + John; very well said. + FALSTAFF. Prick him. + MOULDY. I was prick'd well enough before, an you could have let me + alone. My old dame will be undone now for one to do her husbandry + and her drudgery. You need not to have prick'd me; there are + other men fitter to go out than I. + FALSTAFF. Go to; peace, Mouldy; you shall go. Mouldy, it is time + you were spent. + MOULDY. Spent! + SHALLOW. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; know you where you are? + For th' other, Sir John- let me see. Simon Shadow! + FALSTAFF. Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He's like to be + a cold soldier. + SHALLOW. Where's Shadow? + SHADOW. Here, sir. + FALSTAFF. Shadow, whose son art thou? + SHADOW. My mother's son, sir. + FALSTAFF. Thy mother's son! Like enough; and thy father's shadow. + So the son of the female is the shadow of the male. It is often + so indeed; but much of the father's substance! + SHALLOW. Do you like him, Sir John? + FALSTAFF. Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him; for we have a + number of shadows fill up the muster-book. + SHALLOW. Thomas Wart! + FALSTAFF. Where's he? + WART. Here, sir. + FALSTAFF. Is thy name Wart? + WART. Yea, sir. + FALSTAFF. Thou art a very ragged wart. + SHALLOW. Shall I prick him, Sir John? + FALSTAFF. It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his + back, and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him no more. + SHALLOW. Ha, ha, ha! You can do it, sir; you can do it. I commend + you well. Francis Feeble! + FEEBLE. Here, sir. + FALSTAFF. What trade art thou, Feeble? + FEEBLE. A woman's tailor, sir. + SHALLOW. Shall I prick him, sir? + FALSTAFF. You may; but if he had been a man's tailor, he'd ha' + prick'd you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle as + thou hast done in a woman's petticoat? + FEEBLE. I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more. + FALSTAFF. Well said, good woman's tailor! well said, courageous + Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most + magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman's tailor- well, Master + Shallow, deep, Master Shallow. + FEEBLE. I would Wart might have gone, sir. + FALSTAFF. I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightst mend + him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private + soldier, that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that + suffice, most forcible Feeble. + FEEBLE. It shall suffice, sir. + FALSTAFF. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next? + SHALLOW. Peter Bullcalf o' th' green! + FALSTAFF. Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf. + BULLCALF. Here, sir. + FALSTAFF. Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf till + he roar again. + BULLCALF. O Lord! good my lord captain- + FALSTAFF. What, dost thou roar before thou art prick'd? + BULLCALF. O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man. + FALSTAFF. What disease hast thou? + BULLCALF. A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught with + ringing in the King's affairs upon his coronation day, sir. + FALSTAFF. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will have + away thy cold; and I will take such order that thy friends shall + ring for thee. Is here all? + SHALLOW. Here is two more call'd than your number. You must have + but four here, sir; and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner. + FALSTAFF. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry + dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow. + SHALLOW. O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the + windmill in Saint George's Field? + FALSTAFF. No more of that, Master Shallow, no more of that. + SHALLOW. Ha, 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive? + FALSTAFF. She lives, Master Shallow. + SHALLOW. She never could away with me. + FALSTAFF. Never, never; she would always say she could not abide + Master Shallow. + SHALLOW. By the mass, I could anger her to th' heart. She was then + a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well? + FALSTAFF. Old, old, Master Shallow. + SHALLOW. Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; + certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork, by old Nightwork, + before I came to Clement's Inn. + SILENCE. That's fifty-five year ago. + SHALLOW. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this + knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well? + FALSTAFF. We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow. + SHALLOW. That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith, Sir + John, we have. Our watchword was 'Hem, boys!' Come, let's to + dinner; come, let's to dinner. Jesus, the days that we have seen! + Come, come. + Exeunt FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES + BULLCALF. Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend; and + here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In very + truth, sir, I had as lief be hang'd, sir, as go. And yet, for + mine own part, sir, I do not care; but rather because I am + unwilling and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my + friends; else, sir, I did not care for mine own part so much. + BARDOLPH. Go to; stand aside. + MOULDY. And, good Master Corporal Captain, for my old dame's sake, + stand my friend. She has nobody to do anything about her when I + am gone; and she is old, and cannot help herself. You shall have + forty, sir. + BARDOLPH. Go to; stand aside. + FEEBLE. By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we owe God + a death. I'll ne'er bear a base mind. An't be my destiny, so; + an't be not, so. No man's too good to serve 's Prince; and, let + it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the + next. + BARDOLPH. Well said; th'art a good fellow. + FEEBLE. Faith, I'll bear no base mind. + + Re-enter FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES + + FALSTAFF. Come, sir, which men shall I have? + SHALLOW. Four of which you please. + BARDOLPH. Sir, a word with you. I have three pound to free Mouldy + and Bullcalf. + FALSTAFF. Go to; well. + SHALLOW. Come, Sir John, which four will you have? + FALSTAFF. Do you choose for me. + SHALLOW. Marry, then- Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow. + FALSTAFF. Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay at home till + you are past service; and for your part, Bullcalf, grow you come + unto it. I will none of you. + SHALLOW. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are your + likeliest men, and I would have you serv'd with the best. + FALSTAFF. Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man? + Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big + assemblance of a man! Give me the spirit, Master Shallow. Here's + Wart; you see what a ragged appearance it is. 'A shall charge you + and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer, come + off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket. + And this same half-fac'd fellow, Shadow- give me this man. He + presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aim + level at the edge of a penknife. And, for a retreat- how swiftly + will this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off! O, give me the + spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put me a caliver into + Wart's hand, Bardolph. + BARDOLPH. Hold, Wart. Traverse- thus, thus, thus. + FALSTAFF. Come, manage me your caliver. So- very well. Go to; very + good; exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old, + chopt, bald shot. Well said, i' faith, Wart; th'art a good scab. + Hold, there's a tester for thee. + SHALLOW. He is not his craft's master, he doth not do it right. I + remember at Mile-end Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn- I was + then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show- there was a little quiver + fellow, and 'a would manage you his piece thus; and 'a would + about and about, and come you in and come you in. 'Rah, tah, + tah!' would 'a say; 'Bounce!' would 'a say; and away again would + 'a go, and again would 'a come. I shall ne'er see such a fellow. + FALSTAFF. These fellows will do well. Master Shallow, God keep you! + Master Silence, I will not use many words with you: Fare you + well! Gentlemen both, I thank you. I must a dozen mile to-night. + Bardolph, give the soldiers coats. + SHALLOW. Sir John, the Lord bless you; God prosper your affairs; + God send us peace! At your return, visit our house; let our old + acquaintance be renewed. Peradventure I will with ye to the + court. + FALSTAFF. Fore God, would you would. + SHALLOW. Go to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you. + FALSTAFF. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. [Exeunt JUSTICES] On, + Bardolph; lead the men away. [Exeunt all but FALSTAFF] As I + return, I will fetch off these justices. I do see the bottom of + justice Shallow. Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this + vice of lying! This same starv'd justice hath done nothing but + prate to me of the wildness of his youth and the feats he hath + done about Turnbull Street; and every third word a lie, duer paid + to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at + Clement's Inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring. + When 'a was naked, he was for all the world like a fork'd radish, + with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife. 'A was so + forlorn that his dimensions to any thick sight were invisible. 'A + was the very genius of famine; yet lecherous as a monkey, and the + whores call'd him mandrake. 'A came ever in the rearward of the + fashion, and sung those tunes to the overscutch'd huswifes that + he heard the carmen whistle, and sware they were his fancies or + his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire, + and talks as familiarly of John a Gaunt as if he had been sworn + brother to him; and I'll be sworn 'a ne'er saw him but once in + the Tiltyard; and then he burst his head for crowding among the + marshal's men. I saw it, and told John a Gaunt he beat his own + name; for you might have thrust him and all his apparel into an + eel-skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a + court- and now has he land and beeves. Well, I'll be acquainted + with him if I return; and 't shall go hard but I'll make him a + philosopher's two stones to me. If the young dace be a bait for + the old pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but I may snap + at him. Let time shape, and there an end. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +Yorkshire. Within the Forest of Gaultree + +Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, MOWBRAY, HASTINGS, and others + + ARCHBISHOP. What is this forest call'd + HASTINGS. 'Tis Gaultree Forest, an't shall please your Grace. + ARCHBISHOP. Here stand, my lords, and send discoverers forth + To know the numbers of our enemies. + HASTINGS. We have sent forth already. + ARCHBISHOP. 'Tis well done. + My friends and brethren in these great affairs, + I must acquaint you that I have receiv'd + New-dated letters from Northumberland; + Their cold intent, tenour, and substance, thus: + Here doth he wish his person, with such powers + As might hold sortance with his quality, + The which he could not levy; whereupon + He is retir'd, to ripe his growing fortunes, + To Scotland; and concludes in hearty prayers + That your attempts may overlive the hazard + And fearful meeting of their opposite. + MOWBRAY. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground + And dash themselves to pieces. + + Enter A MESSENGER + + HASTINGS. Now, what news? + MESSENGER. West of this forest, scarcely off a mile, + In goodly form comes on the enemy; + And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number + Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand. + MOWBRAY. The just proportion that we gave them out. + Let us sway on and face them in the field. + + Enter WESTMORELAND + + ARCHBISHOP. What well-appointed leader fronts us here? + MOWBRAY. I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland. + WESTMORELAND. Health and fair greeting from our general, + The Prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster. + ARCHBISHOP. Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace, + What doth concern your coming. + WESTMORELAND. Then, my lord, + Unto your Grace do I in chief address + The substance of my speech. If that rebellion + Came like itself, in base and abject routs, + Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags, + And countenanc'd by boys and beggary- + I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd + In his true, native, and most proper shape, + You, reverend father, and these noble lords, + Had not been here to dress the ugly form + Of base and bloody insurrection + With your fair honours. You, Lord Archbishop, + Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd, + Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd, + Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd, + Whose white investments figure innocence, + The dove, and very blessed spirit of peace- + Wherefore you do so ill translate yourself + Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace, + Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war; + Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, + Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine + To a loud trumpet and a point of war? + ARCHBISHOP. Wherefore do I this? So the question stands. + Briefly to this end: we are all diseas'd + And with our surfeiting and wanton hours + Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, + And we must bleed for it; of which disease + Our late King, Richard, being infected, died. + But, my most noble Lord of Westmoreland, + I take not on me here as a physician; + Nor do I as an enemy to peace + Troop in the throngs of military men; + But rather show awhile like fearful war + To diet rank minds sick of happiness, + And purge th' obstructions which begin to stop + Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly. + I have in equal balance justly weigh'd + What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer, + And find our griefs heavier than our offences. + We see which way the stream of time doth run + And are enforc'd from our most quiet there + By the rough torrent of occasion; + And have the summary of all our griefs, + When time shall serve, to show in articles; + Which long ere this we offer'd to the King, + And might by no suit gain our audience: + When we are wrong'd, and would unfold our griefs, + We are denied access unto his person, + Even by those men that most have done us wrong. + The dangers of the days but newly gone, + Whose memory is written on the earth + With yet appearing blood, and the examples + Of every minute's instance, present now, + Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms; + Not to break peace, or any branch of it, + But to establish here a peace indeed, + Concurring both in name and quality. + WESTMORELAND. When ever yet was your appeal denied; + Wherein have you been galled by the King; + What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you + That you should seal this lawless bloody book + Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine, + And consecrate commotion's bitter edge? + ARCHBISHOP. My brother general, the commonwealth, + To brother horn an household cruelty, + I make my quarrel in particular. + WESTMORELAND. There is no need of any such redress; + Or if there were, it not belongs to you. + MOWBRAY. Why not to him in part, and to us all + That feel the bruises of the days before, + And suffer the condition of these times + To lay a heavy and unequal hand + Upon our honours? + WESTMORELAND. O my good Lord Mowbray, + Construe the times to their necessities, + And you shall say, indeed, it is the time, + And not the King, that doth you injuries. + Yet, for your part, it not appears to me, + Either from the King or in the present time, + That you should have an inch of any ground + To build a grief on. Were you not restor'd + To all the Duke of Norfolk's signiories, + Your noble and right well-rememb'red father's? + MOWBRAY. What thing, in honour, had my father lost + That need to be reviv'd and breath'd in me? + The King that lov'd him, as the state stood then, + Was force perforce compell'd to banish him, + And then that Henry Bolingbroke and he, + Being mounted and both roused in their seats, + Their neighing coursers daring of the spur, + Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down, + Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel, + And the loud trumpet blowing them together- + Then, then, when there was nothing could have stay'd + My father from the breast of Bolingbroke, + O, when the King did throw his warder down- + His own life hung upon the staff he threw- + Then threw he down himself, and all their lives + That by indictment and by dint of sword + Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke. + WESTMORELAND. You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what. + The Earl of Hereford was reputed then + In England the most valiant gentleman. + Who knows on whom fortune would then have smil'd? + But if your father had been victor there, + He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry; + For all the country, in a general voice, + Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers and love + Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on, + And bless'd and grac'd indeed more than the King. + But this is mere digression from my purpose. + Here come I from our princely general + To know your griefs; to tell you from his Grace + That he will give you audience; and wherein + It shall appear that your demands are just, + You shall enjoy them, everything set off + That might so much as think you enemies. + MOWBRAY. But he hath forc'd us to compel this offer; + And it proceeds from policy, not love. + WESTMORELAND. Mowbray. you overween to take it so. + This offer comes from mercy, not from fear; + For, lo! within a ken our army lies- + Upon mine honour, all too confident + To give admittance to a thought of fear. + Our battle is more full of names than yours, + Our men more perfect in the use of arms, + Our armour all as strong, our cause the best; + Then reason will our hearts should be as good. + Say you not, then, our offer is compell'd. + MOWBRAY. Well, by my will we shall admit no parley. + WESTMORELAND. That argues but the shame of your offence: + A rotten case abides no handling. + HASTINGS. Hath the Prince John a full commission, + In very ample virtue of his father, + To hear and absolutely to determine + Of what conditions we shall stand upon? + WESTMORELAND. That is intended in the general's name. + I muse you make so slight a question. + ARCHBISHOP. Then take, my Lord of Westmoreland, this schedule, + For this contains our general grievances. + Each several article herein redress'd, + All members of our cause, both here and hence, + That are insinewed to this action, + Acquitted by a true substantial form, + And present execution of our wills + To us and to our purposes confin'd- + We come within our awful banks again, + And knit our powers to the arm of peace. + WESTMORELAND. This will I show the general. Please you, lords, + In sight of both our battles we may meet; + And either end in peace- which God so frame!- + Or to the place of diff'rence call the swords + Which must decide it. + ARCHBISHOP. My lord, we will do so. Exit WESTMORELAND + MOWBRAY. There is a thing within my bosom tells me + That no conditions of our peace can stand. + HASTINGS. Fear you not that: if we can make our peace + Upon such large terms and so absolute + As our conditions shall consist upon, + Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains. + MOWBRAY. Yea, but our valuation shall be such + That every slight and false-derived cause, + Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason, + Shall to the King taste of this action; + That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love, + We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind + That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff, + And good from bad find no partition. + ARCHBISHOP. No, no, my lord. Note this: the King is weary + Of dainty and such picking grievances; + For he hath found to end one doubt by death + Revives two greater in the heirs of life; + And therefore will he wipe his tables clean, + And keep no tell-tale to his memory + That may repeat and history his los + To new remembrance. For full well he knows + He cannot so precisely weed this land + As his misdoubts present occasion: + His foes are so enrooted with his friends + That, plucking to unfix an enemy, + He doth unfasten so and shake a friend. + So that this land, like an offensive wife + That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes, + As he is striking, holds his infant up, + And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm + That was uprear'd to execution. + HASTINGS. Besides, the King hath wasted all his rods + On late offenders, that he now doth lack + The very instruments of chastisement; + So that his power, like to a fangless lion, + May offer, but not hold. + ARCHBISHOP. 'Tis very true; + And therefore be assur'd, my good Lord Marshal, + If we do now make our atonement well, + Our peace will, like a broken limb united, + Grow stronger for the breaking. + MOWBRAY. Be it so. + Here is return'd my Lord of Westmoreland. + + Re-enter WESTMORELAND + + WESTMORELAND. The Prince is here at hand. Pleaseth your lordship + To meet his Grace just distance 'tween our armies? + MOWBRAY. Your Grace of York, in God's name then, set forward. + ARCHBISHOP. Before, and greet his Grace. My lord, we come. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Another part of the forest + +Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, attended; afterwards, the ARCHBISHOP, +HASTINGS, and others; from the other side, PRINCE JOHN of LANCASTER, +WESTMORELAND, OFFICERS, and others + + PRINCE JOHN. You are well encount'red here, my cousin Mowbray. + Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop; + And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all. + My Lord of York, it better show'd with you + When that your flock, assembled by the bell, + Encircled you to hear with reverence + Your exposition on the holy text + Than now to see you here an iron man, + Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, + Turning the word to sword, and life to death. + That man that sits within a monarch's heart + And ripens in the sunshine of his favour, + Would he abuse the countenance of the king, + Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach + In shadow of such greatness! With you, Lord Bishop, + It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken + How deep you were within the books of God? + To us the speaker in His parliament, + To us th' imagin'd voice of God himself, + The very opener and intelligencer + Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven, + And our dull workings. O, who shall believe + But you misuse the reverence of your place, + Employ the countenance and grace of heav'n + As a false favourite doth his prince's name, + In deeds dishonourable? You have ta'en up, + Under the counterfeited zeal of God, + The subjects of His substitute, my father, + And both against the peace of heaven and him + Have here up-swarm'd them. + ARCHBISHOP. Good my Lord of Lancaster, + I am not here against your father's peace; + But, as I told my Lord of Westmoreland, + The time misord'red doth, in common sense, + Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form + To hold our safety up. I sent your Grace + The parcels and particulars of our grief, + The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the court, + Whereon this hydra son of war is born; + Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep + With grant of our most just and right desires; + And true obedience, of this madness cur'd, + Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty. + MOWBRAY. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes + To the last man. + HASTINGS. And though we here fall down, + We have supplies to second our attempt. + If they miscarry, theirs shall second them; + And so success of mischief shall be born, + And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up + Whiles England shall have generation. + PRINCE JOHN. YOU are too shallow, Hastings, much to shallow, + To sound the bottom of the after-times. + WESTMORELAND. Pleaseth your Grace to answer them directly + How far forth you do like their articles. + PRINCE JOHN. I like them all and do allow them well; + And swear here, by the honour of my blood, + My father's purposes have been mistook; + And some about him have too lavishly + Wrested his meaning and authority. + My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd; + Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you, + Discharge your powers unto their several counties, + As we will ours; and here, between the armies, + Let's drink together friendly and embrace, + That all their eyes may bear those tokens home + Of our restored love and amity. + ARCHBISHOP. I take your princely word for these redresses. + PRINCE JOHN. I give it you, and will maintain my word; + And thereupon I drink unto your Grace. + HASTINGS. Go, Captain, and deliver to the army + This news of peace. Let them have pay, and part. + I know it will please them. Hie thee, Captain. + Exit Officer + ARCHBISHOP. To you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland. + WESTMORELAND. I pledge your Grace; and if you knew what pains + I have bestow'd to breed this present peace, + You would drink freely; but my love to ye + Shall show itself more openly hereafter. + ARCHBISHOP. I do not doubt you. + WESTMORELAND. I am glad of it. + Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray. + MOWBRAY. You wish me health in very happy season, + For I am on the sudden something ill. + ARCHBISHOP. Against ill chances men are ever merry; + But heaviness foreruns the good event. + WESTMORELAND. Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow + Serves to say thus, 'Some good thing comes to-morrow.' + ARCHBISHOP. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. + MOWBRAY. So much the worse, if your own rule be true. + [Shouts within] + PRINCE JOHN. The word of peace is rend'red. Hark, how they shout! + MOWBRAY. This had been cheerful after victory. + ARCHBISHOP. A peace is of the nature of a conquest; + For then both parties nobly are subdu'd, + And neither party loser. + PRINCE JOHN. Go, my lord, + And let our army be discharged too. + Exit WESTMORELAND + And, good my lord, so please you let our trains + March by us, that we may peruse the men + We should have cop'd withal. + ARCHBISHOP. Go, good Lord Hastings, + And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. + Exit HASTINGS + PRINCE JOHN. I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night together. + + Re-enter WESTMORELAND + + Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? + WESTMORELAND. The leaders, having charge from you to stand, + Will not go off until they hear you speak. + PRINCE JOHN. They know their duties. + + Re-enter HASTINGS + + HASTINGS. My lord, our army is dispers'd already. + Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses + East, west, north, south; or like a school broke up, + Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place. + WESTMORELAND. Good tidings, my Lord Hastings; for the which + I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason; + And you, Lord Archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray, + Of capital treason I attach you both. + MOWBRAY. Is this proceeding just and honourable? + WESTMORELAND. Is your assembly so? + ARCHBISHOP. Will you thus break your faith? + PRINCE JOHN. I pawn'd thee none: + I promis'd you redress of these same grievances + Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour, + I will perform with a most Christian care. + But for you, rebels- look to taste the due + Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours. + Most shallowly did you these arms commence, + Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence. + Strike up our drums, pursue the scatt'red stray. + God, and not we, hath safely fought to-day. + Some guard these traitors to the block of death, + Treason's true bed and yielder-up of breath. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Another part of the forest + +Alarum; excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLVILLE, meeting + + FALSTAFF. What's your name, sir? Of what condition are you, and of + what place, I pray? + COLVILLE. I am a knight sir; and my name is Colville of the Dale. + FALSTAFF. Well then, Colville is your name, a knight is your + degree, and your place the Dale. Colville shall still be your + name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place- a place + deep enough; so shall you be still Colville of the Dale. + COLVILLE. Are not you Sir John Falstaff? + FALSTAFF. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do you yield, + sir, or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are the drops + of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death; therefore rouse up + fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy. + COLVILLE. I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought + yield me. + FALSTAFF. I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine; + and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name. + An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most + active fellow in Europe. My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me. + Here comes our general. + + Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, + BLUNT, and others + + PRINCE JOHN. The heat is past; follow no further now. + Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. + Exit WESTMORELAND + Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? + When everything is ended, then you come. + These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, + One time or other break some gallows' back. + FALSTAFF. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus: I never + knew yet but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do you + think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I, in my poor and + old motion, the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with + the very extremest inch of possibility; I have found'red nine + score and odd posts; and here, travel tainted as I am, have, in + my pure and immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colville of the + Dale,a most furious knight and valorous enemy. But what of that? + He saw me, and yielded; that I may justly say with the hook-nos'd + fellow of Rome-I came, saw, and overcame. + PRINCE JOHN. It was more of his courtesy than your deserving. + FALSTAFF. I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him; and I + beseech your Grace, let it be book'd with the rest of this day's + deeds; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad + else, with mine own picture on the top on't, Colville kissing my + foot; to the which course if I be enforc'd, if you do not all + show like gilt twopences to me, and I, in the clear sky of fame, + o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the + element, which show like pins' heads to her, believe not the word + of the noble. Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount. + PRINCE JOHN. Thine's too heavy to mount. + FALSTAFF. Let it shine, then. + PRINCE JOHN. Thine's too thick to shine. + FALSTAFF. Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, + and call it what you will. + PRINCE JOHN. Is thy name Colville? + COLVILLE. It is, my lord. + PRINCE JOHN. A famous rebel art thou, Colville. + FALSTAFF. And a famous true subject took him. + COLVILLE. I am, my lord, but as my betters are + That led me hither. Had they been rul'd by me, + You should have won them dearer than you have. + FALSTAFF. I know not how they sold themselves; but thou, like a + kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis; and I thank thee for + thee. + + Re-enter WESTMORELAND + + PRINCE JOHN. Now, have you left pursuit? + WESTMORELAND. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd. + PRINCE JOHN. Send Colville, with his confederates, + To York, to present execution. + Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure. + Exeunt BLUNT and others + And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords. + I hear the King my father is sore sick. + Our news shall go before us to his Majesty, + Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him + And we with sober speed will follow you. + FALSTAFF. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go through + Gloucestershire; and, when you come to court, stand my good lord, + pray, in your good report. + PRINCE JOHN. Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition, + Shall better speak of you than you deserve. + Exeunt all but FALSTAFF + FALSTAFF. I would you had but the wit; 'twere better than your + dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not + love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh- but that's no marvel; + he drinks no wine. There's never none of these demure boys come + to any proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, and + making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male + green-sickness; and then, when they marry, they get wenches. They + are generally fools and cowards-which some of us should be too, + but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold + operation in it. It ascends me into the brain; dries me there all + the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it; makes it + apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and + delectable shapes; which delivered o'er to the voice, the tongue, + which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of + your excellent sherris is the warming of the blood; which before, + cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the + badge of pusillanimity and cowardice; but the sherris warms it, + and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extremes. It + illumineth the face, which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the + rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital + commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their + captain, the heart, who, great and puff'd up with this retinue, + doth any deed of courage- and this valour comes of sherris. So + that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack, for that sets + it a-work; and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil + till sack commences it and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes + it that Prince Harry is valiant; for the cold blood he did + naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, sterile, and + bare land, manured, husbanded, and till'd, with excellent + endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile sherris, + that he is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, + the first humane principle I would teach them should be to + forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack. + + Enter BARDOLPH + + How now, Bardolph! + BARDOLPH. The army is discharged all and gone. + FALSTAFF. Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire, and there will + I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already + temp'ring between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal + with him. Come away. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Westminster. The Jerusalem Chamber + +Enter the KING, PRINCE THOMAS OF CLARENCE, PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER, +WARWICK, and others + + KING. Now, lords, if God doth give successful end + To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, + We will our youth lead on to higher fields, + And draw no swords but what are sanctified. + Our navy is address'd, our power connected, + Our substitutes in absence well invested, + And everything lies level to our wish. + Only we want a little personal strength; + And pause us till these rebels, now afoot, + Come underneath the yoke of government. + WARWICK. Both which we doubt not but your Majesty + Shall soon enjoy. + KING. Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, + Where is the Prince your brother? + PRINCE HUMPHREY. I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor. + KING. And how accompanied? + PRINCE HUMPHREY. I do not know, my lord. + KING. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him? + PRINCE HUMPHREY. No, my good lord, he is in presence here. + CLARENCE. What would my lord and father? + KING. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. + How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother? + He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas. + Thou hast a better place in his affection + Than all thy brothers; cherish it, my boy, + And noble offices thou mayst effect + Of mediation, after I am dead, + Between his greatness and thy other brethren. + Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love, + Nor lose the good advantage of his grace + By seeming cold or careless of his will; + For he is gracious if he be observ'd. + He hath a tear for pity and a hand + Open as day for melting charity; + Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he is flint; + As humorous as winter, and as sudden + As flaws congealed in the spring of day. + His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd. + Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, + When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth; + But, being moody, give him line and scope + Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, + Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas, + And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends, + A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in, + That the united vessel of their blood, + Mingled with venom of suggestion- + As, force perforce, the age will pour it in- + Shall never leak, though it do work as strong + As aconitum or rash gunpowder. + CLARENCE. I shall observe him with all care and love. + KING. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas? + CLARENCE. He is not there to-day; he dines in London. + KING. And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that? + CLARENCE. With Poins, and other his continual followers. + KING. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; + And he, the noble image of my youth, + Is overspread with them; therefore my grief + Stretches itself beyond the hour of death. + The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, + In forms imaginary, th'unguided days + And rotten times that you shall look upon + When I am sleeping with my ancestors. + For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, + When rage and hot blood are his counsellors + When means and lavish manners meet together, + O, with what wings shall his affections fly + Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay! + WARWICK. My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite. + The Prince but studies his companions + Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, + 'Tis needful that the most immodest word + Be look'd upon and learnt; which once attain'd, + Your Highness knows, comes to no further use + But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms, + The Prince will, in the perfectness of time, + Cast off his followers; and their memory + Shall as a pattern or a measure live + By which his Grace must mete the lives of other, + Turning past evils to advantages. + KING. 'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb + In the dead carrion. + + Enter WESTMORELAND + + Who's here? Westmoreland? + WESTMORELAND. Health to my sovereign, and new happiness + Added to that that am to deliver! + Prince John, your son, doth kiss your Grace's hand. + Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, + Are brought to the correction of your law. + There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd, + But Peace puts forth her olive everywhere. + The manner how this action hath been borne + Here at more leisure may your Highness read, + With every course in his particular. + KING. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, + Which ever in the haunch of winter sings + The lifting up of day. + + Enter HARCOURT + + Look here's more news. + HARCOURT. From enemies heaven keep your Majesty; + And, when they stand against you, may they fall + As those that I am come to tell you of! + The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph, + With a great power of English and of Scots, + Are by the shrieve of Yorkshire overthrown. + The manner and true order of the fight + This packet, please it you, contains at large. + KING. And wherefore should these good news make me sick? + Will Fortune never come with both hands full, + But write her fair words still in foulest letters? + She either gives a stomach and no food- + Such are the poor, in health- or else a feast, + And takes away the stomach- such are the rich + That have abundance and enjoy it not. + I should rejoice now at this happy news; + And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy. + O me! come near me now I am much ill. + PRINCE HUMPHREY. Comfort, your Majesty! + CLARENCE. O my royal father! + WESTMORELAND. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up. + WARWICK. Be patient, Princes; you do know these fits + Are with his Highness very ordinary. + Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well. + CLARENCE. No, no; he cannot long hold out these pangs. + Th' incessant care and labour of his mind + Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in + So thin that life looks through, and will break out. + PRINCE HUMPHREY. The people fear me; for they do observe + Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature. + The seasons change their manners, as the year + Had found some months asleep, and leapt them over. + CLARENCE. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between; + And the old folk, Time's doting chronicles, + Say it did so a little time before + That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died. + WARWICK. Speak lower, Princes, for the King recovers. + PRINCE HUMPHREY. This apoplexy will certain be his end. + KING. I pray you take me up, and bear me hence + Into some other chamber. Softly, pray. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Westminster. Another chamber + +The KING lying on a bed; CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, +and others in attendance + + KING. Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; + Unless some dull and favourable hand + Will whisper music to my weary spirit. + WARWICK. Call for the music in the other room. + KING. Set me the crown upon my pillow here. + CLARENCE. His eye is hollow, and he changes much. + WARWICK. Less noise! less noise! + + Enter PRINCE HENRY + + PRINCE. Who saw the Duke of Clarence? + CLARENCE. I am here, brother, full of heaviness. + PRINCE. How now! Rain within doors, and none abroad! + How doth the King? + PRINCE HUMPHREY. Exceeding ill. + PRINCE. Heard he the good news yet? Tell it him. + PRINCE HUMPHREY. He alt'red much upon the hearing it. + PRINCE. If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic. + WARWICK. Not so much noise, my lords. Sweet Prince, speak low; + The King your father is dispos'd to sleep. + CLARENCE. Let us withdraw into the other room. + WARWICK. Will't please your Grace to go along with us? + PRINCE. No; I will sit and watch here by the King. + Exeunt all but the PRINCE + Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, + Being so troublesome a bedfellow? + O polish'd perturbation! golden care! + That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide + To many a watchful night! Sleep with it now! + Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet + As he whose brow with homely biggen bound + Snores out the watch of night. O majesty! + When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit + Like a rich armour worn in heat of day + That scald'st with safety. By his gates of breath + There lies a downy feather which stirs not. + Did he suspire, that light and weightless down + Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my father! + This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep + That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd + So many English kings. Thy due from me + Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood + Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, + Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously. + My due from thee is this imperial crown, + Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, + Derives itself to me. [Putting on the crown] Lo where it sits- + Which God shall guard; and put the world's whole strength + Into one giant arm, it shall not force + This lineal honour from me. This from thee + Will I to mine leave as 'tis left to me. Exit + KING. Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence! + + Re-enter WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE + + CLARENCE. Doth the King call? + WARWICK. What would your Majesty? How fares your Grace? + KING. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords? + CLARENCE. We left the Prince my brother here, my liege, + Who undertook to sit and watch by you. + KING. The Prince of Wales! Where is he? Let me see him. + He is not here. + WARWICK. This door is open; he is gone this way. + PRINCE HUMPHREY. He came not through the chamber where we stay'd. + KING. Where is the crown? Who took it from my pillow? + WARWICK. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here. + KING. The Prince hath ta'en it hence. Go, seek him out. + Is he so hasty that he doth suppose + My sleep my death? + Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither. + Exit WARWICK + This part of his conjoins with my disease + And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are! + How quickly nature falls into revolt + When gold becomes her object! + For this the foolish over-careful fathers + Have broke their sleep with thoughts, + Their brains with care, their bones with industry; + For this they have engrossed and pil'd up + The cank'red heaps of strange-achieved gold; + For this they have been thoughtful to invest + Their sons with arts and martial exercises; + When, like the bee, tolling from every flower + The virtuous sweets, + Our thighs with wax, our mouths with honey pack'd, + We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees, + Are murd'red for our pains. This bitter taste + Yields his engrossments to the ending father. + + Re-enter WARWICK + + Now where is he that will not stay so long + Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me? + WARWICK. My lord, I found the Prince in the next room, + Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks, + With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow, + That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood, + Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife + With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither. + KING. But wherefore did he take away the crown? + + Re-enter PRINCE HENRY + + Lo where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry. + Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. + Exeunt all but the KING and the PRINCE + PRINCE. I never thought to hear you speak again. + KING. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought. + I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. + Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair + That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours + Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth! + Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee. + Stay but a little, for my cloud of dignity + Is held from falling with so weak a wind + That it will quickly drop; my day is dim. + Thou hast stol'n that which, after some few hours, + Were thine without offense; and at my death + Thou hast seal'd up my expectation. + Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not, + And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it. + Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, + Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, + To stab at half an hour of my life. + What, canst thou not forbear me half an hour? + Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself; + And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear + That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. + Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse + Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head; + Only compound me with forgotten dust; + Give that which gave thee life unto the worms. + Pluck down my officers, break my decrees; + For now a time is come to mock at form- + Harry the Fifth is crown'd. Up, vanity: + Down, royal state. All you sage counsellors, hence. + And to the English court assemble now, + From every region, apes of idleness. + Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum. + Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, + Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit + The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? + Be happy, he will trouble you no more. + England shall double gild his treble guilt; + England shall give him office, honour, might; + For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks + The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog + Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent. + O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! + When that my care could not withhold thy riots, + What wilt thou do when riot is thy care? + O, thou wilt be a wilderness again. + Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants! + PRINCE. O, pardon me, my liege! But for my tears, + The moist impediments unto my speech, + I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke + Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard + The course of it so far. There is your crown, + And he that wears the crown immortally + Long guard it yours! [Kneeling] If I affect it more + Than as your honour and as your renown, + Let me no more from this obedience rise, + Which my most inward true and duteous spirit + Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending! + God witness with me, when I here came in + And found no course of breath within your Majesty, + How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, + O, let me in my present wildness die, + And never live to show th' incredulous world + The noble change that I have purposed! + Coming to look on you, thinking you dead- + And dead almost, my liege, to think you were- + I spake unto this crown as having sense, + And thus upbraided it: 'The care on thee depending + Hath fed upon the body of my father; + Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold. + Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, + Preserving life in med'cine potable; + But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd, + Hast eat thy bearer up.' Thus, my most royal liege, + Accusing it, I put it on my head, + To try with it- as with an enemy + That had before my face murd'red my father- + The quarrel of a true inheritor. + But if it did infect my blood with joy, + Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride; + If any rebel or vain spirit of mine + Did with the least affection of a welcome + Give entertainment to the might of it, + Let God for ever keep it from my head, + And make me as the poorest vassal is, + That doth with awe and terror kneel to it! + KING. O my son, + God put it in thy mind to take it hence, + That thou mightst win the more thy father's love, + Pleading so wisely in excuse of it! + Come hither, Harry; sit thou by my bed, + And hear, I think, the very latest counsel + That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son, + By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways + I met this crown; and I myself know well + How troublesome it sat upon my head: + To thee it shall descend with better quiet, + Better opinion, better confirmation; + For all the soil of the achievement goes + With me into the earth. It seem'd in me + But as an honour snatch'd with boist'rous hand; + And I had many living to upbraid + My gain of it by their assistances; + Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, + Wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears + Thou seest with peril I have answered; + For all my reign hath been but as a scene + Acting that argument. And now my death + Changes the mood; for what in me was purchas'd + Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort; + So thou the garland wear'st successively. + Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, + Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green; + And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends, + Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out; + By whose fell working I was first advanc'd, + And by whose power I well might lodge a fear + To be again displac'd; which to avoid, + I cut them off; and had a purpose now + To lead out many to the Holy Land, + Lest rest and lying still might make them look + Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, + Be it thy course to busy giddy minds + With foreign quarrels, that action, hence borne out, + May waste the memory of the former days. + More would I, but my lungs are wasted so + That strength of speech is utterly denied me. + How I came by the crown, O God, forgive; + And grant it may with thee in true peace live! + PRINCE. My gracious liege, + You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; + Then plain and right must my possession be; + Which I with more than with a common pain + 'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. + + Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WARWICK, LORDS, and others + + KING. Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster. + PRINCE JOHN. Health, peace, and happiness, to my royal father! + KING. Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John; + But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown + From this bare wither'd trunk. Upon thy sight + My worldly business makes a period. + Where is my Lord of Warwick? + PRINCE. My Lord of Warwick! + KING. Doth any name particular belong + Unto the lodging where I first did swoon? + WARWICK. 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord. + KING. Laud be to God! Even there my life must end. + It hath been prophesied to me many years, + I should not die but in Jerusalem; + Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land. + But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie; + In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S house + +Enter SHALLOW, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and PAGE + + SHALLOW. By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away to-night. + What, Davy, I say! + FALSTAFF. You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow. + SHALLOW. I will not excuse you; you shall not be excus'd; excuses + shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you shall + not be excus'd. Why, Davy! + + Enter DAVY + + DAVY. Here, sir. + SHALLOW. Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy; let me see, Davy; let me see, + Davy; let me see- yea, marry, William cook, bid him come hither. + Sir John, you shall not be excus'd. + DAVY. Marry, sir, thus: those precepts cannot be served; and, + again, sir- shall we sow the headland with wheat? + SHALLOW. With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook- are there no + young pigeons? + DAVY. Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for shoeing and + plough-irons. + SHALLOW. Let it be cast, and paid. Sir John, you shall not be + excused. + DAVY. Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had; and, + sir, do you mean to stop any of William's wages about the sack he + lost the other day at Hinckley fair? + SHALLOW. 'A shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of + short-legg'd hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny + kickshaws, tell William cook. + DAVY. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir? + SHALLOW. Yea, Davy; I will use him well. A friend i' th' court is + better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy; for they + are arrant knaves and will backbite. + DAVY. No worse than they are backbitten, sir; for they have + marvellous foul linen. + SHALLOW. Well conceited, Davy- about thy business, Davy. + DAVY. I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot + against Clement Perkes o' th' hill. + SHALLOW. There, is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor. That + Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge. + DAVY. I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; but yet God + forbid, sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his + friend's request. An honest man, sir, is able to speak for + himself, when a knave is not. I have serv'd your worship truly, + sir, this eight years; an I cannot once or twice in a quarter + bear out a knave against an honest man, I have but a very little + credit with your worship. The knave is mine honest friend, sir; + therefore, I beseech you, let him be countenanc'd. + SHALLOW. Go to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, + DAVY. [Exit DAVY] Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off + with your boots. Give me your hand, Master Bardolph. + BARDOLPH. I am glad to see your worship. + SHALLOW. I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bardolph. + [To the PAGE] And welcome, my tall fellow. Come, Sir John. + FALSTAFF. I'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. + [Exit SHALLOW] Bardolph, look to our horses. [Exeunt BARDOLPH + and PAGE] If I were sawed into quantities, I should make four + dozen of such bearded hermits' staves as Master Shallow. It is a + wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence of his men's + spirits and his. They, by observing of him, do bear themselves + like foolish justices: he, by conversing with them, is turned + into a justice-like serving-man. Their spirits are so married in + conjunction with the participation of society that they flock + together in consent, like so many wild geese. If I had a suit to + Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the imputation of + being near their master; if to his men, I would curry with Master + Shallow that no man could better command his servants. It is + certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, + as men take diseases, one of another; therefore let men take heed + of their company. I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow + to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing out of six + fashions, which is four terms, or two actions; and 'a shall laugh + without intervallums. O, it is much that a lie with a slight + oath, and a jest with a sad brow will do with a fellow that never + had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall see him laugh till + his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up! + SHALLOW. [Within] Sir John! + FALSTAFF. I come, Master Shallow; I come, Master Shallow. + Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Westminster. The palace + +Enter, severally, WARWICK, and the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE + + WARWICK. How now, my Lord Chief Justice; whither away? + CHIEF JUSTICE. How doth the King? + WARWICK. Exceeding well; his cares are now all ended. + CHIEF JUSTICE. I hope, not dead. + WARWICK. He's walk'd the way of nature; + And to our purposes he lives no more. + CHIEF JUSTICE. I would his Majesty had call'd me with him. + The service that I truly did his life + Hath left me open to all injuries. + WARWICK. Indeed, I think the young king loves you not. + CHIEF JUSTICE. I know he doth not, and do arm myself + To welcome the condition of the time, + Which cannot look more hideously upon me + Than I have drawn it in my fantasy. + + Enter LANCASTER, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, + WESTMORELAND, and others + + WARWICK. Here comes the heavy issue of dead Harry. + O that the living Harry had the temper + Of he, the worst of these three gentlemen! + How many nobles then should hold their places + That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort! + CHIEF JUSTICE. O God, I fear all will be overturn'd. + PRINCE JOHN. Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow. + GLOUCESTER & CLARENCE. Good morrow, cousin. + PRINCE JOHN. We meet like men that had forgot to speak. + WARWICK. We do remember; but our argument + Is all too heavy to admit much talk. + PRINCE JOHN. Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy! + CHIEF JUSTICE. Peace be with us, lest we be heavier! + PRINCE HUMPHREY. O, good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed; + And I dare swear you borrow not that face + Of seeming sorrow- it is sure your own. + PRINCE JOHN. Though no man be assur'd what grace to find, + You stand in coldest expectation. + I am the sorrier; would 'twere otherwise. + CLARENCE. Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair; + Which swims against your stream of quality. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Sweet Princes, what I did, I did in honour, + Led by th' impartial conduct of my soul; + And never shall you see that I will beg + A ragged and forestall'd remission. + If truth and upright innocency fail me, + I'll to the King my master that is dead, + And tell him who hath sent me after him. + WARWICK. Here comes the Prince. + + Enter KING HENRY THE FIFTH, attended + + CHIEF JUSTICE. Good morrow, and God save your Majesty! + KING. This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, + Sits not so easy on me as you think. + Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear. + This is the English, not the Turkish court; + Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, + But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers, + For, by my faith, it very well becomes you. + Sorrow so royally in you appears + That I will deeply put the fashion on, + And wear it in my heart. Why, then, be sad; + But entertain no more of it, good brothers, + Than a joint burden laid upon us all. + For me, by heaven, I bid you be assur'd, + I'll be your father and your brother too; + Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares. + Yet weep that Harry's dead, and so will I; + But Harry lives that shall convert those tears + By number into hours of happiness. + BROTHERS. We hope no otherwise from your Majesty. + KING. You all look strangely on me; and you most. + You are, I think, assur'd I love you not. + CHIEF JUSTICE. I am assur'd, if I be measur'd rightly, + Your Majesty hath no just cause to hate me. + KING. No? + How might a prince of my great hopes forget + So great indignities you laid upon me? + What, rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison, + Th' immediate heir of England! Was this easy? + May this be wash'd in Lethe and forgotten? + CHIEF JUSTICE. I then did use the person of your father; + The image of his power lay then in me; + And in th' administration of his law, + Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, + Your Highness pleased to forget my place, + The majesty and power of law and justice, + The image of the King whom I presented, + And struck me in my very seat of judgment; + Whereon, as an offender to your father, + I gave bold way to my authority + And did commit you. If the deed were ill, + Be you contented, wearing now the garland, + To have a son set your decrees at nought, + To pluck down justice from your awful bench, + To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword + That guards the peace and safety of your person; + Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image, + And mock your workings in a second body. + Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; + Be now the father, and propose a son; + Hear your own dignity so much profan'd, + See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, + Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd; + And then imagine me taking your part + And, in your power, soft silencing your son. + After this cold considerance, sentence me; + And, as you are a king, speak in your state + What I have done that misbecame my place, + My person, or my liege's sovereignty. + KING. You are right, Justice, and you weigh this well; + Therefore still bear the balance and the sword; + And I do wish your honours may increase + Till you do live to see a son of mine + Offend you, and obey you, as I did. + So shall I live to speak my father's words: + 'Happy am I that have a man so bold + That dares do justice on my proper son; + And not less happy, having such a son + That would deliver up his greatness so + Into the hands of justice.' You did commit me; + For which I do commit into your hand + Th' unstained sword that you have us'd to bear; + With this remembrance- that you use the same + With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit + As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand. + You shall be as a father to my youth; + My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear; + And I will stoop and humble my intents + To your well-practis'd wise directions. + And, Princes all, believe me, I beseech you, + My father is gone wild into his grave, + For in his tomb lie my affections; + And with his spirits sadly I survive, + To mock the expectation of the world, + To frustrate prophecies, and to raze out + Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down + After my seeming. The tide of blood in me + Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now. + Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea, + Where it shall mingle with the state of floods, + And flow henceforth in formal majesty. + Now call we our high court of parliament; + And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel, + That the great body of our state may go + In equal rank with the best govern'd nation; + That war, or peace, or both at once, may be + As things acquainted and familiar to us; + In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. + Our coronation done, we will accite, + As I before rememb'red, all our state; + And- God consigning to my good intents- + No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say, + God shorten Harry's happy life one day. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S orchard + +Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, SILENCE, BARDOLPH, the PAGE, and DAVY + + SHALLOW. Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we + will eat a last year's pippin of mine own graffing, with a dish + of caraways, and so forth. Come, cousin Silence. And then to bed. + FALSTAFF. Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and rich. + SHALLOW. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John + -marry, good air. Spread, Davy, spread, Davy; well said, Davy. + FALSTAFF. This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your + serving-man and your husband. + SHALLOW. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir + John. By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper. A good + varlet. Now sit down, now sit down; come, cousin. + SILENCE. Ah, sirrah! quoth-a- we shall [Singing] + + Do nothing but eat and make good cheer, + And praise God for the merry year; + When flesh is cheap and females dear, + And lusty lads roam here and there, + So merrily, + And ever among so merrily. + + FALSTAFF. There's a merry heart! Good Master Silence, I'll give you + a health for that anon. + SHALLOW. Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy. + DAVY. Sweet sir, sit; I'll be with you anon; most sweet sir, sit. + Master Page, good Master Page, sit. Proface! What you want in + meat, we'll have in drink. But you must bear; the heart's all. + Exit + SHALLOW. Be merry, Master Bardolph; and, my little soldier there, + be merry. + SILENCE. [Singing] + + Be merry, be merry, my wife has all; + For women are shrews, both short and tall; + 'Tis merry in hall when beards wag an; + And welcome merry Shrove-tide. + Be merry, be merry. + + FALSTAFF. I did not think Master Silence had been a man of this + mettle. + SILENCE. Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now. + + Re-enter DAVY + + DAVY. [To BARDOLPH] There's a dish of leather-coats for you. + SHALLOW. Davy! + DAVY. Your worship! I'll be with you straight. [To BARDOLPH] + A cup of wine, sir? + SILENCE. [Singing] + + A cup of wine that's brisk and fine, + And drink unto the leman mine; + And a merry heart lives long-a. + + FALSTAFF. Well said, Master Silence. + SILENCE. An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o' th' night. + FALSTAFF. Health and long life to you, Master Silence! + SILENCE. [Singing] + + Fill the cup, and let it come, + I'll pledge you a mile to th' bottom. + + SHALLOW. Honest Bardolph, welcome; if thou want'st anything and + wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief + and welcome indeed too. I'll drink to Master Bardolph, and to all + the cabileros about London. + DAVY. I hope to see London once ere I die. + BARDOLPH. An I might see you there, Davy! + SHALLOW. By the mass, you'R crack a quart together- ha! will you + not, Master Bardolph? + BARDOLPH. Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot. + SHALLOW. By God's liggens, I thank thee. The knave will stick by + thee, I can assure thee that. 'A will not out, 'a; 'tis true + bred. + BARDOLPH. And I'll stick by him, sir. + SHALLOW. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing; be merry. + [One knocks at door] Look who's at door there, ho! Who knocks? + Exit DAVY + FALSTAFF. [To SILENCE, who has drunk a bumper] Why, now you have + done me right. + SILENCE. [Singing] + + Do me right, + And dub me knight. + Samingo. + + Is't not so? + FALSTAFF. 'Tis so. + SILENCE. Is't so? Why then, say an old man can do somewhat. + + Re-enter DAVY + + DAVY. An't please your worship, there's one Pistol come from the + court with news. + FALSTAFF. From the court? Let him come in. + + Enter PISTOL + + How now, Pistol? + PISTOL. Sir John, God save you! + FALSTAFF. What wind blew you hither, Pistol? + PISTOL. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet knight, + thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm. + SILENCE. By'r lady, I think 'a be, but goodman Puff of Barson. + PISTOL. Puff! + Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base! + Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, + And helter-skelter have I rode to thee; + And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys, + And golden times, and happy news of price. + FALSTAFF. I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world. + PISTOL. A foutra for the world and worldlings base! + I speak of Africa and golden joys. + FALSTAFF. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? + Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof. + SILENCE. [Singing] And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. + PISTOL. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? + And shall good news be baffled? + Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap. + SHALLOW. Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding. + PISTOL. Why, then, lament therefore. + SHALLOW. Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with news from the + court, I take it there's but two ways- either to utter them or + conceal them. I am, sir, under the King, in some authority. + PISTOL. Under which king, Bezonian? Speak, or die. + SHALLOW. Under King Harry. + PISTOL. Harry the Fourth- or Fifth? + SHALLOW. Harry the Fourth. + PISTOL. A foutra for thine office! + Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is King; + Harry the Fifth's the man. I speak the truth. + When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, like + The bragging Spaniard. + FALSTAFF. What, is the old king dead? + PISTOL. As nail in door. The things I speak are just. + FALSTAFF. Away, Bardolph! saddle my horse. Master Robert Shallow, + choose what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I + will double-charge thee with dignities. + BARDOLPH. O joyful day! + I would not take a knighthood for my fortune. + PISTOL. What, I do bring good news? + FALSTAFF. Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my Lord + Shallow, be what thou wilt- I am Fortune's steward. Get on thy + boots; we'll ride all night. O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph! + [Exit BARDOLPH] Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal + devise something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master Shallow! + I know the young King is sick for me. Let us take any man's + horses: the laws of England are at my commandment. Blessed are + they that have been my friends; and woe to my Lord Chief Justice! + PISTOL. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! + 'Where is the life that late I led?' say they. + Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +London. A street + +Enter BEADLES, dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET + + HOSTESS. No, thou arrant knave; I would to God that I might die, + that I might have thee hang'd. Thou hast drawn my shoulder out of + joint. + FIRST BEADLE. The constables have delivered her over to me; and she + shall have whipping-cheer enough, I warrant her. There hath been + a man or two lately kill'd about her. + DOLL. Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I'll tell thee what, + thou damn'd tripe-visag'd rascal, an the child I now go with do + miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou + paper-fac'd villain. + HOSTESS. O the Lord, that Sir John were come! He would make this a + bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb + miscarry! + FIRST BEADLE. If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; + you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me; for + the man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you. + DOLL. I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you + as soundly swing'd for this- you blue-bottle rogue, you filthy + famish'd correctioner, if you be not swing'd, I'll forswear + half-kirtles. + FIRST BEADLE. Come, come, you she knight-errant, come. + HOSTESS. O God, that right should thus overcome might! + Well, of sufferance comes ease. + DOLL. Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice. + HOSTESS. Ay, come, you starv'd bloodhound. + DOLL. Goodman death, goodman bones! + HOSTESS. Thou atomy, thou! + DOLL. Come, you thin thing! come, you rascal! + FIRST BEADLE. Very well. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Westminster. Near the Abbey + +Enter GROOMS, strewing rushes + + FIRST GROOM. More rushes, more rushes! + SECOND GROOM. The trumpets have sounded twice. + THIRD GROOM. 'Twill be two o'clock ere they come from the + coronation. Dispatch, dispatch. Exeunt + + Trumpets sound, and the KING and his train pass + over the stage. After them enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, + PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and page + + FALSTAFF. Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow; I will make the + King do you grace. I will leer upon him, as 'a comes by; and do + but mark the countenance that he will give me. + PISTOL. God bless thy lungs, good knight! + FALSTAFF. Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. [To SHALLOW] O, if + I had had to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the + thousand pound I borrowed of you. But 'tis no matter; this poor + show doth better; this doth infer the zeal I had to see him. + SHALLOW. It doth so. + FALSTAFF. It shows my earnestness of affection- + SHALLOW. It doth so. + FALSTAFF. My devotion- + SHALLOW. It doth, it doth, it doth. + FALSTAFF. As it were, to ride day and night; and not to deliberate, + not to remember, not to have patience to shift me- + SHALLOW. It is best, certain. + FALSTAFF. But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with + desire to see him; thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs + else in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to + see him. + PISTOL. 'Tis 'semper idem' for 'obsque hoc nihil est.' 'Tis all in + every part. + SHALLOW. 'Tis so, indeed. + PISTOL. My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver + And make thee rage. + Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, + Is in base durance and contagious prison; + Hal'd thither + By most mechanical and dirty hand. + Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto's snake, + For Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth. + FALSTAFF. I will deliver her. + [Shouts,within, and the trumpets sound] + PISTOL. There roar'd the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds. + + Enter the KING and his train, the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE + among them + + FALSTAFF. God save thy Grace, King Hal; my royal Hal! + PISTOL. The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of fame! + FALSTAFF. God save thee, my sweet boy! + KING. My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vain man. + CHIEF JUSTICE. Have you your wits? Know you what 'tis you speak? + FALSTAFF. My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my heart! + KING. I know thee not, old man. Fall to thy prayers. + How ill white hairs become a fool and jester! + I have long dreamt of such a kind of man, + So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so profane; + But being awak'd, I do despise my dream. + Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace; + Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape + For thee thrice wider than for other men- + Reply not to me with a fool-born jest; + Presume not that I am the thing I was, + For God doth know, so shall the world perceive, + That I have turn'd away my former self; + So will I those that kept me company. + When thou dost hear I am as I have been, + Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast, + The tutor and the feeder of my riots. + Till then I banish thee, on pain of death, + As I have done the rest of my misleaders, + Not to come near our person by ten mile. + For competence of life I will allow you, + That lack of means enforce you not to evils; + And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, + We will, according to your strengths and qualities, + Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord, + To see perform'd the tenour of our word. + Set on. Exeunt the KING and his train + FALSTAFF. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pounds. + SHALLOW. Yea, marry, Sir John; which I beseech you to let me have + home with me. + FALSTAFF. That can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not you grieve at + this; I shall be sent for in private to him. Look you, he must + seem thus to the world. Fear not your advancements; I will be the + man yet that shall make you great. + SHALLOW. I cannot perceive how, unless you give me your doublet, + and stuff me out with straw. I beseech you, good Sir John, let me + have five hundred of my thousand. + FALSTAFF. Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard + was but a colour. + SHALLOW. A colour that I fear you will die in, Sir John. + FALSTAFF. Fear no colours; go with me to dinner. Come, Lieutenant + Pistol; come, Bardolph. I shall be sent for soon at night. + + Re-enter PRINCE JOHN, the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE, + with officers + + CHIEF JUSTICE. Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet; + Take all his company along with him. + FALSTAFF. My lord, my lord- + CHIEF JUSTICE. I cannot now speak. I will hear you soon. + Take them away. + PISTOL. Si fortuna me tormenta, spero me contenta. + Exeunt all but PRINCE JOHN and the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE + PRINCE JOHN. I like this fair proceeding of the King's. + He hath intent his wonted followers + Shall all be very well provided for; + But all are banish'd till their conversations + Appear more wise and modest to the world. + CHIEF JUSTICE. And so they are. + PRINCE JOHN. The King hath call'd his parliament, my lord. + CHIEF JUSTICE. He hath. + PRINCE JOHN. I will lay odds that, ere this year expire, + We bear our civil swords and native fire + As far as France. I heard a bird so sing, + Whose music, to my thinking, pleas'd the King. + Come, will you hence? Exeunt + +EPILOGUE + EPILOGUE. + + First my fear, then my curtsy, last my speech. My fear, is your +displeasure; my curtsy, my duty; and my speech, to beg your pardons. +If you look for a good speech now, you undo me; for what I have to say +is of mine own making; and what, indeed, I should say will, I doubt, +prove mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so to the venture. +Be it known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here in the end +of a displeasing play, to pray your patience for it and to promise you +a better. I meant, indeed, to pay you with this; which if like an +ill venture it come unluckily home, I break, and you, my gentle +creditors, lose. Here I promis'd you I would be, and here I commit +my body to your mercies. Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and, +as most debtors do, promise you infinitely; and so I kneel down before +you- but, indeed, to pray for the Queen. + If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to +use my legs? And yet that were but light payment-to dance out of +your debt. But a good conscience will make any possible +satisfaction, and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have forgiven +me. If the gentlemen will not, then the gentlemen do not agree with +the gentlewomen, which was never seen before in such an assembly. + One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too much cloy'd with fat +meat, our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in +it, and make you merry with fair Katherine of France; where, for +anything I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already 'a be +killed with your hard opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr and this +is not the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are too, I will bid +you good night. + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1599 + +THE LIFE OF KING HENRY THE FIFTH + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + CHORUS + KING HENRY THE FIFTH + DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, brother to the King + DUKE OF BEDFORD, " " " " + DUKE OF EXETER, Uncle to the King + DUKE OF YORK, cousin to the King + EARL OF SALISBURY + EARL OF WESTMORELAND + EARL OF WARWICK + ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY + BISHOP OF ELY + + EARL OF CAMBRIDGE, conspirator against the King + LORD SCROOP, " " " " + SIR THOMAS GREY, " " " " + SIR THOMAS ERPINGHAM, officer in the King's army + GOWER, " " " " " + FLUELLEN, " " " " " + MACMORRIS, " " " " " + JAMY, " " " " " + + BATES, soldier in the King's army + COURT, " " " " " + WILLIAMS, " " " " " + NYM, " " " " " + BARDOLPH, " " " " " + PISTOL, " " " " " + + BOY A HERALD + + CHARLES THE SIXTH, King of France + LEWIS, the Dauphin DUKE OF BURGUNDY + DUKE OF ORLEANS DUKE OF BRITAINE + DUKE OF BOURBON THE CONSTABLE OF FRANCE + RAMBURES, French Lord + GRANDPRE, " " + GOVERNOR OF HARFLEUR MONTJOY, a French herald + AMBASSADORS to the King of England + + ISABEL, Queen of France + KATHERINE, daughter to Charles and Isabel + ALICE, a lady attending her + HOSTESS of the Boar's Head, Eastcheap; formerly Mrs. Quickly, now + married to Pistol + + Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, Attendants + + + SCENE: + England and France + +PROLOGUE + PROLOGUE. + + Enter CHORUS + + CHORUS. O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend + The brightest heaven of invention, + A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, + And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! + Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, + Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, + Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire, + Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all, + The flat unraised spirits that hath dar'd + On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth + So great an object. Can this cockpit hold + The vasty fields of France? Or may we cram + Within this wooden O the very casques + That did affright the air at Agincourt? + O, pardon! since a crooked figure may + Attest in little place a million; + And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, + On your imaginary forces work. + Suppose within the girdle of these walls + Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies, + Whose high upreared and abutting fronts + The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder. + Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts: + Into a thousand parts divide one man, + And make imaginary puissance; + Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them + Printing their proud hoofs i' th' receiving earth; + For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings, + Carry them here and there, jumping o'er times, + Turning th' accomplishment of many years + Into an hour-glass; for the which supply, + Admit me Chorus to this history; + Who prologue-like, your humble patience pray + Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +London. An ante-chamber in the KING'S palace + +Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY and the BISHOP OF ELY + + CANTERBURY. My lord, I'll tell you: that self bill is urg'd + Which in th' eleventh year of the last king's reign + Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd + But that the scambling and unquiet time + Did push it out of farther question. + ELY. But how, my lord, shall we resist it now? + CANTERBURY. It must be thought on. If it pass against us, + We lose the better half of our possession; + For all the temporal lands which men devout + By testament have given to the church + Would they strip from us; being valu'd thus- + As much as would maintain, to the King's honour, + Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights, + Six thousand and two hundred good esquires; + And, to relief of lazars and weak age, + Of indigent faint souls, past corporal toil, + A hundred alms-houses right well supplied; + And to the coffers of the King, beside, + A thousand pounds by th' year: thus runs the bill. + ELY. This would drink deep. + CANTERBURY. 'T would drink the cup and all. + ELY. But what prevention? + CANTERBURY. The King is full of grace and fair regard. + ELY. And a true lover of the holy Church. + CANTERBURY. The courses of his youth promis'd it not. + The breath no sooner left his father's body + But that his wildness, mortified in him, + Seem'd to die too; yea, at that very moment, + Consideration like an angel came + And whipp'd th' offending Adam out of him, + Leaving his body as a paradise + T'envelop and contain celestial spirits. + Never was such a sudden scholar made; + Never came reformation in a flood, + With such a heady currance, scouring faults; + Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulnes + So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, + As in this king. + ELY. We are blessed in the change. + CANTERBURY. Hear him but reason in divinity, + And, all-admiring, with an inward wish + You would desire the King were made a prelate; + Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, + You would say it hath been all in all his study; + List his discourse of war, and you shall hear + A fearful battle rend'red you in music. + Turn him to any cause of policy, + The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, + Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks, + The air, a charter'd libertine, is still, + And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears + To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences; + So that the art and practic part of life + Must be the mistress to this theoric; + Which is a wonder how his Grace should glean it, + Since his addiction was to courses vain, + His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow, + His hours fill'd up with riots, banquets, sports; + And never noted in him any study, + Any retirement, any sequestration + From open haunts and popularity. + ELY. The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, + And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best + Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality; + And so the Prince obscur'd his contemplation + Under the veil of wildness; which, no doubt, + Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, + Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty. + CANTERBURY. It must be so; for miracles are ceas'd; + And therefore we must needs admit the means + How things are perfected. + ELY. But, my good lord, + How now for mitigation of this bill + Urg'd by the Commons? Doth his Majesty + Incline to it, or no? + CANTERBURY. He seems indifferent + Or rather swaying more upon our part + Than cherishing th' exhibiters against us; + For I have made an offer to his Majesty- + Upon our spiritual convocation + And in regard of causes now in hand, + Which I have open'd to his Grace at large, + As touching France- to give a greater sum + Than ever at one time the clergy yet + Did to his predecessors part withal. + ELY. How did this offer seem receiv'd, my lord? + CANTERBURY. With good acceptance of his Majesty; + Save that there was not time enough to hear, + As I perceiv'd his Grace would fain have done, + The severals and unhidden passages + Of his true tides to some certain dukedoms, + And generally to the crown and seat of France, + Deriv'd from Edward, his great-grandfather. + ELY. What was th' impediment that broke this off? + CANTERBURY. The French ambassador upon that instant + Crav'd audience; and the hour, I think, is come + To give him hearing: is it four o'clock? + ELY. It is. + CANTERBURY. Then go we in, to know his embassy; + Which I could with a ready guess declare, + Before the Frenchman speak a word of it. + ELY. I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +London. The Presence Chamber in the KING'S palace + +Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, WARWICK, WESTMORELAND, +and attendants + + KING HENRY. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury? + EXETER. Not here in presence. + KING HENRY. Send for him, good uncle. + WESTMORELAND. Shall we call in th' ambassador, my liege? + KING HENRY. Not yet, my cousin; we would be resolv'd, + Before we hear him, of some things of weight + That task our thoughts, concerning us and France. + + Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY and + the BISHOP OF ELY + + CANTERBURY. God and his angels guard your sacred throne, + And make you long become it! + KING HENRY. Sure, we thank you. + My learned lord, we pray you to proceed, + And justly and religiously unfold + Why the law Salique, that they have in France, + Or should or should not bar us in our claim; + And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, + That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, + Or nicely charge your understanding soul + With opening titles miscreate whose right + Suits not in native colours with the truth; + For God doth know how many, now in health, + Shall drop their blood in approbation + Of what your reverence shall incite us to. + Therefore take heed how you impawn our person, + How you awake our sleeping sword of war- + We charge you, in the name of God, take heed; + For never two such kingdoms did contend + Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless drops + Are every one a woe, a sore complaint, + 'Gainst him whose wrongs gives edge unto the swords + That makes such waste in brief mortality. + Under this conjuration speak, my lord; + For we will hear, note, and believe in heart, + That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd + As pure as sin with baptism. + CANTERBURY. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers, + That owe yourselves, your lives, and services, + To this imperial throne. There is no bar + To make against your Highness' claim to France + But this, which they produce from Pharamond: + 'In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant'- + 'No woman shall succeed in Salique land'; + Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze + To be the realm of France, and Pharamond + The founder of this law and female bar. + Yet their own authors faithfully affirm + That the land Salique is in Germany, + Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe; + Where Charles the Great, having subdu'd the Saxons, + There left behind and settled certain French; + Who, holding in disdain the German women + For some dishonest manners of their life, + Establish'd then this law: to wit, no female + Should be inheritrix in Salique land; + Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala, + Is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen. + Then doth it well appear the Salique law + Was not devised for the realm of France; + Nor did the French possess the Salique land + Until four hundred one and twenty years + After defunction of King Pharamond, + Idly suppos'd the founder of this law; + Who died within the year of our redemption + Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great + Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French + Beyond the river Sala, in the year + Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say, + King Pepin, which deposed Childeric, + Did, as heir general, being descended + Of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clothair, + Make claim and title to the crown of France. + Hugh Capet also, who usurp'd the crown + Of Charles the Duke of Lorraine, sole heir male + Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great, + To find his title with some shows of truth- + Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught- + Convey'd himself as th' heir to th' Lady Lingare, + Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son + To Lewis the Emperor, and Lewis the son + Of Charles the Great. Also King Lewis the Tenth, + Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, + Could not keep quiet in his conscience, + Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied + That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, + Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare, + Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Lorraine; + By the which marriage the line of Charles the Great + Was re-united to the Crown of France. + So that, as clear as is the summer's sun, + King Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim, + King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear + To hold in right and tide of the female; + So do the kings of France unto this day, + Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law + To bar your Highness claiming from the female; + And rather choose to hide them in a net + Than amply to imbar their crooked tides + Usurp'd from you and your progenitors. + KING HENRY. May I with right and conscience make this claim? + CANTERBURY. The sin upon my head, dread sovereign! + For in the book of Numbers is it writ, + When the man dies, let the inheritance + Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord, + Stand for your own, unwind your bloody flag, + Look back into your mighty ancestors. + Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb, + From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit, + And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black Prince, + Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, + Making defeat on the fun power of France, + Whiles his most mighty father on a hill + Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp + Forage in blood of French nobility. + O noble English, that could entertain + With half their forces the full pride of France, + And let another half stand laughing by, + All out of work and cold for action! + ELY. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead, + And with your puissant arm renew their feats. + You are their heir; you sit upon their throne; + The blood and courage that renowned them + Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege + Is in the very May-morn of his youth, + Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. + EXETER. Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth + Do all expect that you should rouse yourself, + As did the former lions of your blood. + WESTMORELAND. They know your Grace hath cause and means and might- + So hath your Highness; never King of England + Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects, + Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England + And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France. + CANTERBURY. O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege, + With blood and sword and fire to win your right! + In aid whereof we of the spiritualty + Will raise your Highness such a mighty sum + As never did the clergy at one time + Bring in to any of your ancestors. + KING HENRY. We must not only arm t' invade the French, + But lay down our proportions to defend + Against the Scot, who will make road upon us + With all advantages. + CANTERBURY. They of those marches, gracious sovereign, + Shall be a wall sufficient to defend + Our inland from the pilfering borderers. + KING HENRY. We do not mean the coursing snatchers only, + But fear the main intendment of the Scot, + Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us; + For you shall read that my great-grandfather + Never went with his forces into France + But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom + Came pouring, like the tide into a breach, + With ample and brim fulness of his force, + Galling the gleaned land with hot assays, + Girdling with grievous siege castles and towns; + That England, being empty of defence, + Hath shook and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood. + CANTERBURY. She hath been then more fear'd than harm'd, my liege; + For hear her but exampled by herself: + When all her chivalry hath been in France, + And she a mourning widow of her nobles, + She hath herself not only well defended + But taken and impounded as a stray + The King of Scots; whom she did send to France, + To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings, + And make her chronicle as rich with praise + As is the ooze and bottom of the sea + With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries. + WESTMORELAND. But there's a saying, very old and true: + + 'If that you will France win, + Then with Scotland first begin.' + + For once the eagle England being in prey, + To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot + Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs, + Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, + To tear and havoc more than she can eat. + EXETER. It follows, then, the cat must stay at home; + Yet that is but a crush'd necessity, + Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries + And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. + While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, + Th' advised head defends itself at home; + For government, though high, and low, and lower, + Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, + Congreeing in a full and natural close, + Like music. + CANTERBURY. Therefore doth heaven divide + The state of man in divers functions, + Setting endeavour in continual motion; + To which is fixed as an aim or but + Obedience; for so work the honey bees, + Creatures that by a rule in nature teach + The act of order to a peopled kingdom. + They have a king, and officers of sorts, + Where some like magistrates correct at home; + Others like merchants venture trade abroad; + Others like soldiers, armed in their stings, + Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, + Which pillage they with merry march bring home + To the tent-royal of their emperor; + Who, busied in his majesty, surveys + The singing masons building roofs of gold, + The civil citizens kneading up the honey, + The poor mechanic porters crowding in + Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, + The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum, + Delivering o'er to executors pale + The lazy yawning drone. I this infer, + That many things, having full reference + To one consent, may work contrariously; + As many arrows loosed several ways + Come to one mark, as many ways meet in one town, + As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea, + As many lines close in the dial's centre; + So many a thousand actions, once afoot, + End in one purpose, and be all well home + Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege. + Divide your happy England into four; + Whereof take you one quarter into France, + And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. + If we, with thrice such powers left at home, + Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, + Let us be worried, and our nation lose + The name of hardiness and policy. + KING HENRY. Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin. + Exeunt some attendants + Now are we well resolv'd; and, by God's help + And yours, the noble sinews of our power, + France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe, + Or break it all to pieces; or there we'll sit, + Ruling in large and ample empery + O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms, + Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, + Tombless, with no remembrance over them. + Either our history shall with full mouth + Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, + Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, + Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph. + + Enter AMBASSADORS of France + + Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure + Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear + Your greeting is from him, not from the King. + AMBASSADOR. May't please your Majesty to give us leave + Freely to render what we have in charge; + Or shall we sparingly show you far of + The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy? + KING HENRY. We are no tyrant, but a Christian king, + Unto whose grace our passion is as subject + As are our wretches fett'red in our prisons; + Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness + Tell us the Dauphin's mind. + AMBASSADOR. Thus then, in few. + Your Highness, lately sending into France, + Did claim some certain dukedoms in the right + Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third. + In answer of which claim, the Prince our master + Says that you savour too much of your youth, + And bids you be advis'd there's nought in France + That can be with a nimble galliard won; + You cannot revel into dukedoms there. + He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, + This tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this, + Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim + Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks. + KING HENRY. What treasure, uncle? + EXETER. Tennis-balls, my liege. + KING HENRY. We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us; + His present and your pains we thank you for. + When we have match'd our rackets to these balls, + We will in France, by God's grace, play a set + Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard. + Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler + That all the courts of France will be disturb'd + With chaces. And we understand him well, + How he comes o'er us with our wilder days, + Not measuring what use we made of them. + We never valu'd this poor seat of England; + And therefore, living hence, did give ourself + To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common + That men are merriest when they are from home. + But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, + Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness, + When I do rouse me in my throne of France; + For that I have laid by my majesty + And plodded like a man for working-days; + But I will rise there with so full a glory + That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, + Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. + And tell the pleasant Prince this mock of his + Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones, and his soul + Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance + That shall fly with them; for many a thousand widows + Shall this his mock mock of their dear husbands; + Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down; + And some are yet ungotten and unborn + That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn. + But this lies all within the will of God, + To whom I do appeal; and in whose name, + Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on, + To venge me as I may and to put forth + My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause. + So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin + His jest will savour but of shallow wit, + When thousands weep more than did laugh at it. + Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well. + Exeunt AMBASSADORS + EXETER. This was a merry message. + KING HENRY. We hope to make the sender blush at it. + Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour + That may give furth'rance to our expedition; + For we have now no thought in us but France, + Save those to God, that run before our business. + Therefore let our proportions for these wars + Be soon collected, and all things thought upon + That may with reasonable swiftness ad + More feathers to our wings; for, God before, + We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door. + Therefore let every man now task his thought + That this fair action may on foot be brought. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. PROLOGUE. + +Flourish. Enter CHORUS + + CHORUS. Now all the youth of England are on fire, + And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies; + Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought + Reigns solely in the breast of every man; + They sell the pasture now to buy the horse, + Following the mirror of all Christian kings + With winged heels, as English Mercuries. + For now sits Expectation in the air, + And hides a sword from hilts unto the point + With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets, + Promis'd to Harry and his followers. + The French, advis'd by good intelligence + Of this most dreadful preparation, + Shake in their fear and with pale policy + Seek to divert the English purposes. + O England! model to thy inward greatness, + Like little body with a mighty heart, + What mightst thou do that honour would thee do, + Were all thy children kind and natural! + But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out + A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills + With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men- + One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the second, + Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third, + Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland, + Have, for the gilt of France- O guilt indeed!- + Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France; + And by their hands this grace of kings must die- + If hell and treason hold their promises, + Ere he take ship for France- and in Southampton. + Linger your patience on, and we'll digest + Th' abuse of distance, force a play. + The sum is paid, the traitors are agreed, + The King is set from London, and the scene + Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton; + There is the play-house now, there must you sit, + And thence to France shall we convey you safe + And bring you back, charming the narrow seas + To give you gentle pass; for, if we may, + We'll not offend one stomach with our play. + But, till the King come forth, and not till then, + Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. Exit + + + + +SCENE I. +London. Before the Boar's Head Tavern, Eastcheap + +Enter CORPORAL NYM and LIEUTENANT BARDOLPH + + BARDOLPH. Well met, Corporal Nym. + NYM. Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph. + BARDOLPH. What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet? + NYM. For my part, I care not; I say little, but when time shall + serve, there shall be smiles- but that shall be as it may. I dare + not fight; but I will wink and hold out mine iron. It is a simple + one; but what though? It will toast cheese, and it will endure + cold as another man's sword will; and there's an end. + BARDOLPH. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and we'll + be all three sworn brothers to France. Let't be so, good Corporal + Nym. + NYM. Faith, I will live so long as I may, that's the certain of it; + and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may. That is my + rest, that is the rendezvous of it. + BARDOLPH. It is certain, Corporal, that he is married to Nell + Quickly; and certainly she did you wrong, for you were + troth-plight to her. + NYM. I cannot tell; things must be as they may. Men may sleep, and + they may have their throats about them at that time; and some say + knives have edges. It must be as it may; though patience be a + tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I + cannot tell. + + Enter PISTOL and HOSTESS + + BARDOLPH. Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife. Good Corporal, be + patient here. + NYM. How now, mine host Pistol! + PISTOL. Base tike, call'st thou me host? + Now by this hand, I swear I scorn the term; + Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. + HOSTESS. No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge and board a + dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of + their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house + straight. [Nym draws] O well-a-day, Lady, if he be not drawn! Now + we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed. + BARDOLPH. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal, offer nothing here. + NYM. Pish! + PISTOL. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear'd cur of + Iceland! + HOSTESS. Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up your sword. + NYM. Will you shog off? I would have you solus. + PISTOL. 'Solus,' egregious dog? O viper vile! + The 'solus' in thy most mervailous face; + The 'solus' in thy teeth, and in thy throat, + And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy; + And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth! + I do retort the 'solus' in thy bowels; + For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up, + And flashing fire will follow. + NYM. I am not Barbason: you cannot conjure me. I have an humour to + knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I + will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms; if you + would walk off I would prick your guts a little, in good terms, + as I may, and thaes the humour of it. + PISTOL. O braggart vile and damned furious wight! + The grave doth gape and doting death is near; + Therefore exhale. [PISTOL draws] + BARDOLPH. Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the first + stroke I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier. + [Draws] + PISTOL. An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate. + [PISTOL and Nym sheathe their swords] + Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give; + Thy spirits are most tall. + NYM. I will cut thy throat one time or other, in fair terms; that + is the humour of it. + PISTOL. 'Couple a gorge!' + That is the word. I thee defy again. + O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get? + No; to the spital go, + And from the powd'ring tub of infamy + Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind, + Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse. + I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly + For the only she; and- pauca, there's enough. + Go to. + + Enter the Boy + + BOY. Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master; and your + hostess- he is very sick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put + thy face between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan. + Faith, he's very ill. + BARDOLPH. Away, you rogue. + HOSTESS. By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these + days: the King has kill'd his heart. Good husband, come home + presently. Exeunt HOSTESS and BOY + BARDOLPH. Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to France + together; why the devil should we keep knives to cut one + another's throats? + PISTOL. Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on! + NYM. You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting? + PISTOL. Base is the slave that pays. + NYM. That now I will have; that's the humour of it. + PISTOL. As manhood shall compound: push home. + [PISTOL and Nym draw] + BARDOLPH. By this sword, he that makes the first thrust I'll kill + him; by this sword, I will. + PISTOL. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course. + [Sheathes his sword] + BARDOLPH. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends; an + thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too. Prithee put up. + NYM. I shall have my eight shillings I won of you at betting? + PISTOL. A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; + And liquor likewise will I give to thee, + And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood. + I'll live by Nym and Nym shall live by me. + Is not this just? For I shall sutler be + Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. + Give me thy hand. + NYM. [Sheathing his sword] I shall have my noble? + PISTOL. In cash most justly paid. + NYM. [Shaking hands] Well, then, that's the humour of't. + + Re-enter HOSTESS + + HOSTESS. As ever you come of women, come in quickly to Sir John. + Ah, poor heart! he is so shak'd of a burning quotidian tertian + that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him. + NYM. The King hath run bad humours on the knight; that's the even + of it. + PISTOL. Nym, thou hast spoke the right; + His heart is fracted and corroborate. + NYM. The King is a good king, but it must be as it may; he passes + some humours and careers. + PISTOL. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Southampton. A council-chamber + +Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORELAND + + BEDFORD. Fore God, his Grace is bold, to trust these traitors. + EXETER. They shall be apprehended by and by. + WESTMORELAND. How smooth and even they do bear themselves, + As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, + Crowned with faith and constant loyalty! + BEDFORD. The King hath note of all that they intend, + By interception which they dream not of. + EXETER. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, + Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours- + That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell + His sovereign's life to death and treachery! + + Trumpets sound. Enter the KING, SCROOP, + CAMBRIDGE, GREY, and attendants + + KING HENRY. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. + My Lord of Cambridge, and my kind Lord of Masham, + And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts. + Think you not that the pow'rs we bear with us + Will cut their passage through the force of France, + Doing the execution and the act + For which we have in head assembled them? + SCROOP. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best. + KING HENRY. I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded + We carry not a heart with us from hence + That grows not in a fair consent with ours; + Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish + Success and conquest to attend on us. + CAMBRIDGE. Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd + Than is your Majesty. There's not, I think, a subject + That sits in heart-grief and uneasines + Under the sweet shade of your government. + GREY. True: those that were your father's enemies + Have steep'd their galls in honey, and do serve you + With hearts create of duty and of zeal. + KING HENRY. We therefore have great cause of thankfulness, + And shall forget the office of our hand + Sooner than quittance of desert and merit + According to the weight and worthiness. + SCROOP. So service shall with steeled sinews toil, + And labour shall refresh itself with hope, + To do your Grace incessant services. + KING HENRY. We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter, + Enlarge the man committed yesterday + That rail'd against our person. We consider + It was excess of wine that set him on; + And on his more advice we pardon him. + SCROOP. That's mercy, but too much security. + Let him be punish'd, sovereign, lest example + Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind. + KING HENRY. O, let us yet be merciful! + CAMBRIDGE. So may your Highness, and yet punish too. + GREY. Sir, + You show great mercy if you give him life, + After the taste of much correction. + KING HENRY. Alas, your too much love and care of me + Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch! + If little faults proceeding on distemper + Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye + When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested, + Appear before us? We'll yet enlarge that man, + Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care + And tender preservation of our person, + Would have him punish'd. And now to our French causes: + Who are the late commissioners? + CAMBRIDGE. I one, my lord. + Your Highness bade me ask for it to-day. + SCROOP. So did you me, my liege. + GREY. And I, my royal sovereign. + KING HENRY. Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours; + There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham; and, Sir Knight, + Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours. + Read them, and know I know your worthiness. + My Lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter, + We will aboard to-night. Why, how now, gentlemen? + What see you in those papers, that you lose + So much complexion? Look ye how they change! + Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read you there + That have so cowarded and chas'd your blood + Out of appearance? + CAMBRIDGE. I do confess my fault, + And do submit me to your Highness' mercy. + GREY, SCROOP. To which we all appeal. + KING HENRY. The mercy that was quick in us but late + By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd. + You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy; + For your own reasons turn into your bosoms + As dogs upon their masters, worrying you. + See you, my princes and my noble peers, + These English monsters! My Lord of Cambridge here- + You know how apt our love was to accord + To furnish him with an appertinents + Belonging to his honour; and this man + Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir'd, + And sworn unto the practices of France + To kill us here in Hampton; to the which + This knight, no less for bounty bound to us + Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But, O, + What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop, thou cruel, + Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature? + Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, + That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, + That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold, + Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use- + May it be possible that foreign hire + Could out of thee extract one spark of evil + That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange + That, though the truth of it stands off as gross + As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it. + Treason and murder ever kept together, + As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose, + Working so grossly in a natural cause + That admiration did not whoop at them; + But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in + Wonder to wait on treason and on murder; + And whatsoever cunning fiend it was + That wrought upon thee so preposterously + Hath got the voice in hell for excellence; + And other devils that suggest by treasons + Do botch and bungle up damnation + With patches, colours, and with forms, being fetch'd + From glist'ring semblances of piety; + But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up, + Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, + Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. + If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus + Should with his lion gait walk the whole world, + He might return to vasty Tartar back, + And tell the legions 'I can never win + A soul so easy as that Englishman's.' + O, how hast thou with jealousy infected + The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful? + Why, so didst thou. Seem they grave and learned? + Why, so didst thou. Come they of noble family? + Why, so didst thou. Seem they religious? + Why, so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet, + Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger, + Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, + Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement, + Not working with the eye without the ear, + And but in purged judgment trusting neither? + Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem; + And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot + To mark the full-fraught man and best indued + With some suspicion. I will weep for thee; + For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like + Another fall of man. Their faults are open. + Arrest them to the answer of the law; + And God acquit them of their practices! + EXETER. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard Earl + of Cambridge. + I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry Lord Scroop + of Masham. + I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, + knight, of Northumberland. + SCROOP. Our purposes God justly hath discover'd, + And I repent my fault more than my death; + Which I beseech your Highness to forgive, + Although my body pay the price of it. + CAMBRIDGE. For me, the gold of France did not seduce, + Although I did admit it as a motive + The sooner to effect what I intended; + But God be thanked for prevention, + Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, + Beseeching God and you to pardon me. + GREY. Never did faithful subject more rejoice + At the discovery of most dangerous treason + Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself, + Prevented from a damned enterprise. + My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. + KING HENRY. God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence. + You have conspir'd against our royal person, + Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his coffers + Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death; + Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, + His princes and his peers to servitude, + His subjects to oppression and contempt, + And his whole kingdom into desolation. + Touching our person seek we no revenge; + But we our kingdom's safety must so tender, + Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws + We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence, + Poor miserable wretches, to your death; + The taste whereof God of his mercy give + You patience to endure, and true repentance + Of all your dear offences. Bear them hence. + Exeunt CAMBRIDGE, SCROOP, and GREY, guarded + Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof + Shall be to you as us like glorious. + We doubt not of a fair and lucky war, + Since God so graciously hath brought to light + This dangerous treason, lurking in our way + To hinder our beginnings; we doubt not now + But every rub is smoothed on our way. + Then, forth, dear countrymen; let us deliver + Our puissance into the hand of God, + Putting it straight in expedition. + Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance; + No king of England, if not king of France! + Flourish. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Eastcheap. Before the Boar's Head tavern + +Enter PISTOL, HOSTESS, NYM, BARDOLPH, and Boy + + HOSTESS. Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to + Staines. + PISTOL. No; for my manly heart doth earn. + Bardolph, be blithe; Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins; + Boy, bristle thy courage up. For Falstaff he is dead, + And we must earn therefore. + BARDOLPH. Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in + heaven or in hell! + HOSTESS. Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in Arthur's bosom, if + ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went + away an it had been any christom child; 'a parted ev'n just + between twelve and one, ev'n at the turning o' th' tide; for + after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, + and smile upon his fingers' end, I knew there was but one way; + for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbl'd of green + fields. 'How now, Sir John!' quoth I 'What, man, be o' good + cheer.' So 'a cried out 'God, God, God!' three or four times. Now + I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God; I hop'd + there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. + So 'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet; I put my hand into + the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I + felt to his knees, and so upward and upward, and all was as cold + as any stone. + NYM. They say he cried out of sack. + HOSTESS. Ay, that 'a did. + BARDOLPH. And of women. + HOSTESS. Nay, that 'a did not. + BOY. Yes, that 'a did, and said they were devils incarnate. + HOSTESS. 'A could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he never + liked. + BOY. 'A said once the devil would have him about women. + HOSTESS. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was + rheumatic, and talk'd of the Whore of Babylon. + BOY. Do you not remember 'a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose, + and 'a said it was a black soul burning in hell? + BARDOLPH. Well, the fuel is gone that maintain'd that fire: that's + all the riches I got in his service. + NYM. Shall we shog? The King will be gone from Southampton. + PISTOL. Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips. + Look to my chattles and my moveables; + Let senses rule. The word is 'Pitch and Pay.' + Trust none; + For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, + And Holdfast is the only dog, my duck. + Therefore, Caveto be thy counsellor. + Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms, + Let us to France, like horse-leeches, my boys, + To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck. + BOY. And that's but unwholesome food, they say. + PISTOL. Touch her soft mouth and march. + BARDOLPH. Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her] + NYM. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but adieu. + PISTOL. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee command. + HOSTESS. Farewell; adieu. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +France. The KING'S palace + +Flourish. Enter the FRENCH KING, the DAUPHIN, the DUKES OF BERRI +and BRITAINE, the CONSTABLE, and others + + FRENCH KING. Thus comes the English with full power upon us; + And more than carefully it us concerns + To answer royally in our defences. + Therefore the Dukes of Berri and of Britaine, + Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth, + And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch, + To line and new repair our towns of war + With men of courage and with means defendant; + For England his approaches makes as fierce + As waters to the sucking of a gulf. + It fits us, then, to be as provident + As fear may teach us, out of late examples + Left by the fatal and neglected English + Upon our fields. + DAUPHIN. My most redoubted father, + It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe; + For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom, + Though war nor no known quarrel were in question, + But that defences, musters, preparations, + Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected, + As were a war in expectation. + Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go forth + To view the sick and feeble parts of France; + And let us do it with no show of fear- + No, with no more than if we heard that England + Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance; + For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd, + Her sceptre so fantastically borne + By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth, + That fear attends her not. + CONSTABLE. O peace, Prince Dauphin! + You are too much mistaken in this king. + Question your Grace the late ambassadors + With what great state he heard their embassy, + How well supplied with noble counsellors, + How modest in exception, and withal + How terrible in constant resolution, + And you shall find his vanities forespent + Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, + Covering discretion with a coat of folly; + As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots + That shall first spring and be most delicate. + DAUPHIN. Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable; + But though we think it so, it is no matter. + In cases of defence 'tis best to weigh + The enemy more mighty than he seems; + So the proportions of defence are fill'd; + Which of a weak and niggardly projection + Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting + A little cloth. + FRENCH KING. Think we King Harry strong; + And, Princes, look you strongly arm to meet him. + The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us; + And he is bred out of that bloody strain + That haunted us in our familiar paths. + Witness our too much memorable shame + When Cressy battle fatally was struck, + And all our princes capdv'd by the hand + Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales; + Whiles that his mountain sire- on mountain standing, + Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun- + Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him, + Mangle the work of nature, and deface + The patterns that by God and by French fathers + Had twenty years been made. This is a stern + Of that victorious stock; and let us fear + The native mightiness and fate of him. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Ambassadors from Harry King of England + Do crave admittance to your Majesty. + FRENCH KING. We'll give them present audience. Go and bring them. + Exeunt MESSENGER and certain LORDS + You see this chase is hotly followed, friends. + DAUPHIN. Turn head and stop pursuit; for coward dogs + Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten + Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, + Take up the English short, and let them know + Of what a monarchy you are the head. + Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin + As self-neglecting. + + Re-enter LORDS, with EXETER and train + + FRENCH KING. From our brother of England? + EXETER. From him, and thus he greets your Majesty: + He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, + That you divest yourself, and lay apart + The borrowed glories that by gift of heaven, + By law of nature and of nations, 'longs + To him and to his heirs- namely, the crown, + And all wide-stretched honours that pertain, + By custom and the ordinance of times, + Unto the crown of France. That you may know + 'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim, + Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days, + Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd, + He sends you this most memorable line, [Gives a paper] + In every branch truly demonstrative; + Willing you overlook this pedigree. + And when you find him evenly deriv'd + From his most fam'd of famous ancestors, + Edward the Third, he bids you then resign + Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held + From him, the native and true challenger. + FRENCH KING. Or else what follows? + EXETER. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown + Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it. + Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, + In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove, + That if requiring fail, he will compel; + And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, + Deliver up the crown; and to take mercy + On the poor souls for whom this hungry war + Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head + Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries, + The dead men's blood, the privy maidens' groans, + For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, + That shall be swallowed in this controversy. + This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my message; + Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, + To whom expressly I bring greeting too. + FRENCH KING. For us, we will consider of this further; + To-morrow shall you bear our full intent + Back to our brother of England. + DAUPHIN. For the Dauphin: + I stand here for him. What to him from England? + EXETER. Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt, + And anything that may not misbecome + The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. + Thus says my king: an if your father's Highness + Do not, in grant of all demands at large, + Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his Majesty, + He'll call you to so hot an answer of it + That caves and womby vaultages of France + Shall chide your trespass and return your mock + In second accent of his ordinance. + DAUPHIN. Say, if my father render fair return, + It is against my will; for I desire + Nothing but odds with England. To that end, + As matching to his youth and vanity, + I did present him with the Paris balls. + EXETER. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, + Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe; + And be assur'd you'll find a difference, + As we his subjects have in wonder found, + Between the promise of his greener days + And these he masters now. Now he weighs time + Even to the utmost grain; that you shall read + In your own losses, if he stay in France. + FRENCH KING. To-morrow shall you know our mind at full. + EXETER. Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king + Come here himself to question our delay; + For he is footed in this land already. + FRENCH KING. You shall be soon dispatch'd with fair conditions. + A night is but small breath and little pause + To answer matters of this consequence. Flourish. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. PROLOGUE. + +Flourish. Enter CHORUS + + CHORUS. Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies, + In motion of no less celerity + Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen + The well-appointed King at Hampton pier + Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet + With silken streamers the young Phorbus fanning. + Play with your fancies; and in them behold + Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; + Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give + To sounds confus'd; behold the threaden sails, + Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind, + Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, + Breasting the lofty surge. O, do but think + You stand upon the rivage and behold + A city on th' inconstant billows dancing; + For so appears this fleet majestical, + Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow! + Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy + And leave your England as dead midnight still, + Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, + Either past or not arriv'd to pith and puissance; + For who is he whose chin is but enrich'd + With one appearing hair that will not follow + These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? + Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege; + Behold the ordnance on their carriages, + With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. + Suppose th' ambassador from the French comes back; + Tells Harry that the King doth offer him + Katherine his daughter, and with her to dowry + Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. + The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner + With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, + [Alarum, and chambers go off] + And down goes an before them. Still be kind, + And eke out our performance with your mind. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE I. +France. Before Harfleur + +Alarum. Enter the KING, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER, +and soldiers with scaling-ladders + + KING. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; + Or close the wall up with our English dead. + In peace there's nothing so becomes a man + As modest stillness and humility; + But when the blast of war blows in our ears, + Then imitate the action of the tiger: + Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, + Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; + Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; + Let it pry through the portage of the head + Like the brass cannon: let the brow o'erwhelm it + As fearfully as doth a galled rock + O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, + Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. + Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide; + Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit + To his full height. On, on, you noblest English, + Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof- + Fathers that like so many Alexanders + Have in these parts from morn till even fought, + And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument. + Dishonour not your mothers; now attest + That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. + Be copy now to men of grosser blood, + And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, + Whose limbs were made in England, show us here + The mettle of your pasture; let us swear + That you are worth your breeding- which I doubt not; + For there is none of you so mean and base + That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. + I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, + Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: + Follow your spirit; and upon this charge + Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!' + [Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off] + + + + +SCENE II. +Before Harfleur + +Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and BOY + + BARDOLPH. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach! + NYM. Pray thee, Corporal, stay; the knocks are too hot, and for + mine own part I have not a case of lives. The humour of it is too + hot; that is the very plain-song of it. + PISTOL. The plain-song is most just; for humours do abound: + + Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die; + And sword and shield + In bloody field + Doth win immortal fame. + + BOY. Would I were in an alehouse in London! I wouid give all my + fame for a pot of ale and safety. + PISTOL. And I: + + If wishes would prevail with me, + My purpose should not fail with me, + But thither would I hie. + + BOY. As duly, but not as truly, + As bird doth sing on bough. + + Enter FLUELLEN + + FLUELLEN. Up to the breach, you dogs! + Avaunt, you cullions! [Driving them forward] + PISTOL. Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould. + Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage; + Abate thy rage, great duke. + Good bawcock, bate thy rage. Use lenity, sweet chuck. + NYM. These be good humours. Your honour wins bad humours. + Exeunt all but BOY + BOY. As young as I am, I have observ'd these three swashers. I am + boy to them all three; but all they three, though they would + serve me, could not be man to me; for indeed three such antics do + not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-liver'd and + red-fac'd; by the means whereof 'a faces it out, but fights not. + For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the + means whereof 'a breaks words and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, + he hath heard that men of few words are the best men, and + therefore he scorns to say his prayers lest 'a should be thought + a coward; but his few bad words are match'd with as few good + deeds; for 'a never broke any man's head but his own, and that + was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal anything, + and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve + leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. Nym and Bardolph are + sworn brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a + fire-shovel; I knew by that piece of service the men would carry + coals. They would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their + gloves or their handkerchers; which makes much against my + manhood, if I should take from another's pocket to put into mine; + for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them and + seek some better service; their villainy goes against my weak + stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. Exit + + Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following + + GOWER. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the + Duke of Gloucester would speak with you. + FLUELLEN. To the mines! Tell you the Duke it is not so good to come + to the mines; for, look you, the mines is not according to the + disciplines of the war; the concavities of it is not sufficient. + For, look you, th' athversary- you may discuss unto the Duke, + look you- is digt himself four yard under the countermines; by + Cheshu, I think 'a will plow up all, if there is not better + directions. + GOWER. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is + given, is altogether directed by an Irishman- a very vallant + gentleman, i' faith. + FLUELLEN. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not? + GOWER. I think it be. + FLUELLEN. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world: I will verify + as much in his beard; he has no more directions in the true + disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than + is a puppy-dog. + + Enter MACMORRIS and CAPTAIN JAMY + + GOWER. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with + him. + FLUELLEN. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is + certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchient + wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, + he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the + world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans. + JAMY. I say gud day, Captain Fluellen. + FLUELLEN. God-den to your worship, good Captain James. + GOWER. How now, Captain Macmorris! Have you quit the mines? Have + the pioneers given o'er? + MACMORRIS. By Chrish, la, tish ill done! The work ish give over, + the trompet sound the retreat. By my hand, I swear, and my + father's soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over; I would + have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour. O, + tish ill done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done! + FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe + me, look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or + concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way + of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly to + satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of + my mind, as touching the direction of the military discipline, + that is the point. + JAMY. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath; and I sall + quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, + marry. + MACMORRIS. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me. The day + is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the King, and the + Dukes; it is no time to discourse. The town is beseech'd, and the + trumpet call us to the breach; and we talk and, be Chrish, do + nothing. 'Tis shame for us all, so God sa' me, 'tis shame to + stand still; it is shame, by my hand; and there is throats to be + cut, and works to be done; and there ish nothing done, so Chrish + sa' me, la. + JAMY. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to + slomber, ay'll de gud service, or I'll lig i' th' grund for it; + ay, or go to death. And I'll pay't as valorously as I may, that + sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the long. Marry, I wad + full fain heard some question 'tween you tway. + FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your + correction, there is not many of your nation- + MACMORRIS. Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a villain, and a + bastard, and a knave, and a rascal. What ish my nation? Who talks + of my nation? + FLUELLEN. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, + Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me + with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look + you; being as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of + war and in the derivation of my birth, and in other + particularities. + MACMORRIS. I do not know you so good a man as myself; so + Chrish save me, I will cut off your head. + GOWER. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other. + JAMY. Ah! that's a foul fault. [A parley sounded] + GOWER. The town sounds a parley. + FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity + to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know + the disciplines of war; and there is an end. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Before the gates of Harfleur + +Enter the GOVERNOR and some citizens on the walls. Enter the KING +and all his train before the gates + + KING HENRY. How yet resolves the Governor of the town? + This is the latest parle we will admit; + Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves + Or, like to men proud of destruction, + Defy us to our worst; for, as I am a soldier, + A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, + If I begin the batt'ry once again, + I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur + Till in her ashes she lie buried. + The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, + And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart, + In liberty of bloody hand shall range + With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass + Your fresh fair virgins and your flow'ring infants. + What is it then to me if impious war, + Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends, + Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats + Enlink'd to waste and desolation? + What is't to me when you yourselves are cause, + If your pure maidens fall into the hand + Of hot and forcing violation? + What rein can hold licentious wickednes + When down the hill he holds his fierce career? + We may as bootless spend our vain command + Upon th' enraged soldiers in their spoil, + As send precepts to the Leviathan + To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, + Take pity of your town and of your people + Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; + Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace + O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds + Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy. + If not- why, in a moment look to see + The blind and bloody with foul hand + Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; + Your fathers taken by the silver beards, + And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls; + Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, + Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd + Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry + At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. + What say you? Will you yield, and this avoid? + Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd? + GOVERNOR. Our expectation hath this day an end: + The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated, + Returns us that his powers are yet not ready + To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great King, + We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy. + Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours; + For we no longer are defensible. + KING HENRY. Open your gates. [Exit GOVERNOR] Come, uncle Exeter, + Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain, + And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French; + Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle, + The winter coming on, and sickness growing + Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais. + To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest; + To-morrow for the march are we addrest. + [Flourish. The KING and his train enter the town] + + + + +SCENE IV. +Rouen. The FRENCH KING'S palace + +Enter KATHERINE and ALICE + + KATHERINE. Alice, tu as ete en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le + langage. + ALICE. Un peu, madame. + KATHERINE. Je te prie, m'enseignez; il faut que j'apprenne a + parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en Anglais? + ALICE. La main? Elle est appelee de hand. + KATHERINE. De hand. Et les doigts? + ALICE. Les doigts? Ma foi, j'oublie les doigts; mais je me + souviendrai. Les doigts? Je pense qu'ils sont appeles de fingres; + oui, de fingres. + KATHERINE. La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense que + je suis le bon ecolier; j'ai gagne deux mots d'Anglais vitement. + Comment appelez-vous les ongles? + ALICE. Les ongles? Nous les appelons de nails. + KATHERINE. De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi si je parle bien: de hand, + de fingres, et de nails. + ALICE. C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglais. + KATHERINE. Dites-moi l'Anglais pour le bras. + ALICE. De arm, madame. + KATHERINE. Et le coude? + ALICE. D'elbow. + KATHERINE. D'elbow. Je m'en fais la repetition de tous les mots que + vous m'avez appris des a present. + ALICE. Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense. + KATHERINE. Excusez-moi, Alice; ecoutez: d'hand, de fingre, de + nails, d'arma, de bilbow. + ALICE. D'elbow, madame. + KATHERINE. O Seigneur Dieu, je m'en oublie! D'elbow. + Comment appelez-vous le col? + ALICE. De nick, madame. + KATHERINE. De nick. Et le menton? + ALICE. De chin. + KATHERINE. De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin. + ALICE. Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en verite, vous prononcez les mots + aussi droit que les natifs d'Angleterre. + KATHERINE. Je ne doute point d'apprendre, par la grace de Dieu, et + en peu de temps. + ALICE. N'avez-vous pas deja oublie ce que je vous ai enseigne? + KATHERINE. Non, je reciterai a vous promptement: d'hand, de fingre, + de mails- + ALICE. De nails, madame. + KATHERINE. De nails, de arm, de ilbow. + ALICE. Sauf votre honneur, d'elbow. + KATHERINE. Ainsi dis-je; d'elbow, de nick, et de sin. Comment + appelez-vous le pied et la robe? + ALICE. Le foot, madame; et le count. + KATHERINE. Le foot et le count. O Seigneur Dieu! ils sont mots de + son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les + dames d'honneur d'user: je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant + les seigneurs de France pour tout le monde. Foh! le foot et le + count! Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre fois ma lecon ensemble: + d'hand, de fingre, de nails, d'arm, d'elbow, de nick, de sin, de + foot, le count. + ALICE. Excellent, madame! + KATHERINE. C'est assez pour une fois: allons-nous a diner. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +The FRENCH KING'S palace + +Enter the KING OF FRANCE, the DAUPHIN, DUKE OF BRITAINE, +the CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, and others + + FRENCH KING. 'Tis certain he hath pass'd the river Somme. + CONSTABLE. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, + Let us not live in France; let us quit an, + And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. + DAUPHIN. O Dieu vivant! Shall a few sprays of us, + The emptying of our fathers' luxury, + Our scions, put in wild and savage stock, + Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds, + And overlook their grafters? + BRITAINE. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards! + Mort Dieu, ma vie! if they march along + Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom + To buy a slobb'ry and a dirty farm + In that nook-shotten isle of Albion. + CONSTABLE. Dieu de batailles! where have they this mettle? + Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull; + On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, + Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water, + A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley-broth, + Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? + And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, + Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land, + Let us not hang like roping icicles + Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people + Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields- + Poor we call them in their native lords! + DAUPHIN. By faith and honour, + Our madams mock at us and plainly say + Our mettle is bred out, and they will give + Their bodies to the lust of English youth + To new-store France with bastard warriors. + BRITAINE. They bid us to the English dancing-schools + And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos, + Saying our grace is only in our heels + And that we are most lofty runaways. + FRENCH KING. Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence; + Let him greet England with our sharp defiance. + Up, Princes, and, with spirit of honour edged + More sharper than your swords, hie to the field: + Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France; + You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri, + Alengon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy; + Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont, + Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconbridge, + Foix, Lestrake, Bouciqualt, and Charolois; + High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights, + For your great seats now quit you of great shames. + Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land + With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur. + Rush on his host as doth the melted snow + Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat + The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon; + Go down upon him, you have power enough, + And in a captive chariot into Rouen + Bring him our prisoner. + CONSTABLE. This becomes the great. + Sorry am I his numbers are so few, + His soldiers sick and famish'd in their march; + For I am sure, when he shall see our army, + He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear, + And for achievement offer us his ransom. + FRENCH KING. Therefore, Lord Constable, haste on Montjoy, + And let him say to England that we send + To know what willing ransom he will give. + Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen. + DAUPHIN. Not so, I do beseech your Majesty. + FRENCH KING. Be patient, for you shall remain with us. + Now forth, Lord Constable and Princes all, + And quickly bring us word of England's fall. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +The English camp in Picardy + +Enter CAPTAINS, English and Welsh, GOWER and FLUELLEN + + GOWER. How now, Captain Fluellen! Come you from the bridge? + FLUELLEN. I assure you there is very excellent services committed + at the bridge. + GOWER. Is the Duke of Exeter safe? + FLUELLEN. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; and a + man that I love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my + duty, and my live, and my living, and my uttermost power. He is + not- God be praised and blessed!- any hurt in the world, but + keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There + is an aunchient Lieutenant there at the bridge- I think in my + very conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony; and he is + man of no estimation in the world; but I did see him do as + gallant service. + GOWER. What do you call him? + FLUELLEN. He is call'd Aunchient Pistol. + GOWER. I know him not. + + Enter PISTOL + + FLUELLEN. Here is the man. + PISTOL. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours. + The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well. + FLUELLEN. Ay, I praise God; and I have merited some love at his + hands. + PISTOL. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart, + And of buxom valour, hath by cruel fate + And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel, + That goddess blind, + That stands upon the rolling restless stone- + FLUELLEN. By your patience, Aunchient Pistol. Fortune is painted + blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that + Fortune is blind; and she is painted also with a wheel, to + signify to you, which is the moral of it, that she is turning, + and inconstant, and mutability, and variation; and her foot, look + you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and + rolls. In good truth, the poet makes a most excellent description + of it: Fortune is an excellent moral. + PISTOL. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him; + For he hath stol'n a pax, and hanged must 'a be- + A damned death! + Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free, + And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate. + But Exeter hath given the doom of death + For pax of little price. + Therefore, go speak- the Duke will hear thy voice; + And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut + With edge of penny cord and vile reproach. + Speak, Captain, for his life, and I will thee requite. + FLUELLEN. Aunchient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning. + PISTOL. Why then, rejoice therefore. + FLUELLEN. Certainly, Aunchient, it is not a thing to rejoice at; + for if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire the Duke to + use his good pleasure, and put him to execution; for discipline + ought to be used. + PISTOL. Die and be damn'd! and figo for thy friendship! + FLUELLEN. It is well. + PISTOL. The fig of Spain! Exit + FLUELLEN. Very good. + GOWER. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I remember him + now- a bawd, a cutpurse. + FLUELLEN. I'll assure you, 'a utt'red as prave words at the pridge + as you shall see in a summer's day. But it is very well; what he + has spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time is serve. + GOWER. Why, 'tis a gull a fool a rogue, that now and then goes to + the wars to grace himself, at his return into London, under the + form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in the great + commanders' names; and they will learn you by rote where services + were done- at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a + convoy; who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgrac'd, what + terms the enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly in the + phrase of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths; and what + a beard of the General's cut and a horrid suit of the camp will + do among foaming bottles and ale-wash'd wits is wonderful to be + thought on. But you must learn to know such slanders of the age, + or else you may be marvellously mistook. + FLUELLEN. I tell you what, Captain Gower, I do perceive he is not + the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is; if I + find a hole in his coat I will tell him my mind. [Drum within] + Hark you, the King is coming; and I must speak with him from the + pridge. + + Drum and colours. Enter the KING and his poor soldiers, + and GLOUCESTER + + God pless your Majesty! + KING HENRY. How now, Fluellen! Cam'st thou from the bridge? + FLUELLEN. Ay, so please your Majesty. The Duke of Exeter has very + gallantly maintain'd the pridge; the French is gone off, look + you, and there is gallant and most prave passages. Marry, th' + athversary was have possession of the pridge; but he is enforced + to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge; I can + tell your Majesty the Duke is a prave man. + KING HENRY. What men have you lost, Fluellen! + FLUELLEN. The perdition of th' athversary hath been very great, + reasonable great; marry, for my part, I think the Duke hath lost + never a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a + church- one Bardolph, if your Majesty know the man; his face is + all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames o' fire; and his + lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes + plue and sometimes red; but his nose is executed and his fire's + out. + KING HENRY. We would have all such offenders so cut off. And we + give express charge that in our marches through the country there + be nothing compell'd from the villages, nothing taken but paid + for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful + language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom the + gentler gamester is the soonest winner. + + Tucket. Enter MONTJOY + + MONTJOY. You know me by my habit. + KING HENRY. Well then, I know thee; what shall I know of thee? + MONTJOY. My master's mind. + KING HENRY. Unfold it. + MONTJOY. Thus says my king. Say thou to Harry of England: Though we + seem'd dead we did but sleep; advantage is a better soldier than + rashness. Tell him we could have rebuk'd him at Harfleur, but + that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full + ripe. Now we speak upon our cue, and our voice is imperial: + England shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and admire our + sufferance. Bid him therefore consider of his ransom, which must + proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, + the disgrace we have digested; which, in weight to re-answer, his + pettiness would bow under. For our losses his exchequer is too + poor; for th' effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom + too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own person kneeling + at our feet but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this add + defiance; and tell him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his + followers, whose condemnation is pronounc'd. So far my king and + master; so much my office. + KING HENRY. What is thy name? I know thy quality. + MONTJOY. Montjoy. + KING HENRY. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back, + And tell thy king I do not seek him now, + But could be willing to march on to Calais + Without impeachment; for, to say the sooth- + Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much + Unto an enemy of craft and vantage- + My people are with sickness much enfeebled; + My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have + Almost no better than so many French; + Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald, + I thought upon one pair of English legs + Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgive me, God, + That I do brag thus; this your air of France + Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent. + Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am; + My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk; + My army but a weak and sickly guard; + Yet, God before, tell him we will come on, + Though France himself and such another neighbour + Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy. + Go, bid thy master well advise himself. + If we may pass, we will; if we be hind'red, + We shall your tawny ground with your red blood + Discolour; and so, Montjoy, fare you well. + The sum of all our answer is but this: + We would not seek a battle as we are; + Nor as we are, we say, we will not shun it. + So tell your master. + MONTJOY. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your Highness. Exit + GLOUCESTER. I hope they will not come upon us now. + KING HENRY. We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs. + March to the bridge, it now draws toward night; + Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves, + And on to-morrow bid them march away. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VII. +The French camp near Agincourt + +Enter the CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, the LORD RAMBURES, the DUKE OF ORLEANS, +the DAUPHIN, with others + + CONSTABLE. Tut! I have the best armour of the world. + Would it were day! + ORLEANS. You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his + due. + CONSTABLE. It is the best horse of Europe. + ORLEANS. Will it never be morning? + DAUPHIN. My Lord of Orleans and my Lord High Constable, you talk of + horse and armour? + ORLEANS. You are as well provided of both as any prince in the + world. + DAUPHIN. What a long night is this! I will not change my horse with + any that treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! he bounds from the + earth as if his entrails were hairs; le cheval volant, the + Pegasus, chez les narines de feu! When I bestride him I soar, I + am a hawk. He trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; + the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of + Hermes. + ORLEANS. He's of the colour of the nutmeg. + DAUPHIN. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for Perseus: + he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water + never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his + rider mounts him; he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you + may call beasts. + CONSTABLE. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent + horse. + DAUPHIN. It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the + bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. + ORLEANS. No more, cousin. + DAUPHIN. Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the rising of + the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my + palfrey. It is a theme as fluent as the sea: turn the sands into + eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all: 'tis a + subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's + sovereign to ride on; and for the world- familiar to us and + unknown- to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at + him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus: 'Wonder + of nature'- + ORLEANS. I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress. + DAUPHIN. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to my courser; + for my horse is my mistress. + ORLEANS. Your mistress bears well. + DAUPHIN. Me well; which is the prescript praise and perfection of a + good and particular mistress. + CONSTABLE. Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly + shook your back. + DAUPHIN. So perhaps did yours. + CONSTABLE. Mine was not bridled. + DAUPHIN. O, then belike she was old and gentle; and you rode like a + kern of Ireland, your French hose off and in your strait + strossers. + CONSTABLE. You have good judgment in horsemanship. + DAUPHIN. Be warn'd by me, then: they that ride so, and ride not + warily, fall into foul bogs. I had rather have my horse to my + mistress. + CONSTABLE. I had as lief have my mistress a jade. + DAUPHIN. I tell thee, Constable, my mistress wears his own hair. + CONSTABLE. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a sow to + my mistress. + DAUPHIN. 'Le chien est retourne a son propre vomissement, et la + truie lavee au bourbier.' Thou mak'st use of anything. + CONSTABLE. Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or any such + proverb so little kin to the purpose. + RAMBURES. My Lord Constable, the armour that I saw in your tent + to-night- are those stars or suns upon it? + CONSTABLE. Stars, my lord. + DAUPHIN. Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope. + CONSTABLE. And yet my sky shall not want. + DAUPHIN. That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and 'twere + more honour some were away. + CONSTABLE. Ev'n as your horse bears your praises, who would trot as + well were some of your brags dismounted. + DAUPHIN. Would I were able to load him with his desert! Will it + never be day? I will trot to-morrow a mile, and my way shall be + paved with English faces. + CONSTABLE. I will not say so, for fear I should be fac'd out of my + way; but I would it were morning, for I would fain be about the + ears of the English. + RAMBURES. Who will go to hazard with me for twenty prisoners? + CONSTABLE. You must first go yourself to hazard ere you have them. + DAUPHIN. 'Tis midnight; I'll go arm myself. Exit + ORLEANS. The Dauphin longs for morning. + RAMBURES. He longs to eat the English. + CONSTABLE. I think he will eat all he kills. + ORLEANS. By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant prince. + CONSTABLE. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath. + ORLEANS. He is simply the most active gentleman of France. + CONSTABLE. Doing is activity, and he will still be doing. + ORLEANS. He never did harm that I heard of. + CONSTABLE. Nor will do none to-morrow: he will keep that good name + still. + ORLEANS. I know him to be valiant. + CONSTABLE. I was told that by one that knows him better than you. + ORLEANS. What's he? + CONSTABLE. Marry, he told me so himself; and he said he car'd not + who knew it. + ORLEANS. He needs not; it is no hidden virtue in him. + CONSTABLE. By my faith, sir, but it is; never anybody saw it but + his lackey. + 'Tis a hooded valour, and when it appears it will bate. + ORLEANS. Ill-wind never said well. + CONSTABLE. I will cap that proverb with 'There is flattery in + friendship.' + ORLEANS. And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due.' + CONSTABLE. Well plac'd! There stands your friend for the devil; + have at the very eye of that proverb with 'A pox of the devil!' + ORLEANS. You are the better at proverbs by how much 'A fool's bolt + is soon shot.' + CONSTABLE. You have shot over. + ORLEANS. 'Tis not the first time you were overshot. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. My Lord High Constable, the English lie within fifteen + hundred paces of your tents. + CONSTABLE. Who hath measur'd the ground? + MESSENGER. The Lord Grandpre. + CONSTABLE. A valiant and most expert gentleman. Would it were day! + Alas, poor Harry of England! he longs not for the dawning as we + do. + ORLEANS. What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of + England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so far out of his + knowledge! + CONSTABLE. If the English had any apprehension, they would run + away. + ORLEANS. That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual + armour, they could never wear such heavy head-pieces. + RAMBURES. That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; + their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage. + ORLEANS. Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian + bear, and have their heads crush'd like rotten apples! You may as + well say that's a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the + lip of a lion. + CONSTABLE. Just, just! and the men do sympathise with the mastiffs + in robustious and rough coming on, leaving their wits with their + wives; and then give them great meals of beef and iron and steel; + they will eat like wolves and fight like devils. + ORLEANS. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef. + CONSTABLE. Then shall we find to-morrow they have only stomachs to + eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm. Come, shall we + about it? + ORLEANS. It is now two o'clock; but let me see- by ten + We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. PROLOGUE. + +Enter CHORUS + + CHORUS. Now entertain conjecture of a time + When creeping murmur and the poring dark + Fills the wide vessel of the universe. + From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, + The hum of either army stilly sounds, + That the fix'd sentinels almost receive + The secret whispers of each other's watch. + Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames + Each battle sees the other's umber'd face; + Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs + Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents + The armourers accomplishing the knights, + With busy hammers closing rivets up, + Give dreadful note of preparation. + The country cocks do crow, the clocks do ton, + And the third hour of drowsy morning name. + Proud of their numbers and secure in soul, + The confident and over-lusty French + Do the low-rated English play at dice; + And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night + Who like a foul and ugly witch doth limp + So tediously away. The poor condemned English, + Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires + Sit patiently and inly ruminate + The morning's danger; and their gesture sad + Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats + Presenteth them unto the gazing moon + So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold + The royal captain of this ruin'd band + Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, + Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his head!' + For forth he goes and visits all his host; + Bids them good morrow with a modest smile, + And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen. + Upon his royal face there is no note + How dread an army hath enrounded him; + Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour + Unto the weary and all-watched night; + But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint + With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; + That every wretch, pining and pale before, + Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks; + A largess universal, like the sun, + His liberal eye doth give to every one, + Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all + Behold, as may unworthiness define, + A little touch of Harry in the night. + And so our scene must to the battle fly; + Where- O for pity!- we shall much disgrace + With four or five most vile and ragged foils, + Right ill-dispos'd in brawl ridiculous, + The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see, + Minding true things by what their mock'ries be. Exit + + + + +SCENE I. +France. The English camp at Agincourt + +Enter the KING, BEDFORD, and GLOUCESTER + + KING HENRY. Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger; + The greater therefore should our courage be. + Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty! + There is some soul of goodness in things evil, + Would men observingly distil it out; + For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, + Which is both healthful and good husbandry. + Besides, they are our outward consciences + And preachers to us all, admonishing + That we should dress us fairly for our end. + Thus may we gather honey from the weed, + And make a moral of the devil himself. + + Enter ERPINGHAM + + Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham: + A good soft pillow for that good white head + Were better than a churlish turf of France. + ERPINGHAM. Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better, + Since I may say 'Now lie I like a king.' + KING HENRY. 'Tis good for men to love their present pains + Upon example; so the spirit is eased; + And when the mind is quick'ned, out of doubt + The organs, though defunct and dead before, + Break up their drowsy grave and newly move + With casted slough and fresh legerity. + Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both, + Commend me to the princes in our camp; + Do my good morrow to them, and anon + Desire them all to my pavilion. + GLOUCESTER. We shall, my liege. + ERPINGHAM. Shall I attend your Grace? + KING HENRY. No, my good knight: + Go with my brothers to my lords of England; + I and my bosom must debate awhile, + And then I would no other company. + ERPINGHAM. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry! + Exeunt all but the KING + KING HENRY. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully. + + Enter PISTOL + + PISTOL. Qui va la? + KING HENRY. A friend. + PISTOL. Discuss unto me: art thou officer, + Or art thou base, common, and popular? + KING HENRY. I am a gentleman of a company. + PISTOL. Trail'st thou the puissant pike? + KING HENRY. Even so. What are you? + PISTOL. As good a gentleman as the Emperor. + KING HENRY. Then you are a better than the King. + PISTOL. The King's a bawcock and a heart of gold, + A lad of life, an imp of fame; + Of parents good, of fist most valiant. + I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string + I love the lovely bully. What is thy name? + KING HENRY. Harry le Roy. + PISTOL. Le Roy! a Cornish name; art thou of Cornish crew? + KING HENRY. No, I am a Welshman. + PISTOL. Know'st thou Fluellen? + KING HENRY. Yes. + PISTOL. Tell him I'll knock his leek about his pate + Upon Saint Davy's day. + KING HENRY. Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest + he knock that about yours. + PISTOL. Art thou his friend? + KING HENRY. And his kinsman too. + PISTOL. The figo for thee, then! + KING HENRY. I thank you; God be with you! + PISTOL. My name is Pistol call'd. Exit + KING HENRY. It sorts well with your fierceness. + + Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER + + GOWER. Captain Fluellen! + FLUELLEN. So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer. It is the + greatest admiration in the universal world, when the true and + aunchient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept: if you + would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, + you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddle nor + pibble-pabble in Pompey's camp; I warrant you, you shall find the + ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, + and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise. + GOWER. Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night. + FLUELLEN. If the enemy is an ass, and a fool, and a prating + coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be + an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb? In your own + conscience, now? + GOWER. I will speak lower. + FLUELLEN. I pray you and beseech you that you will. + Exeunt GOWER and FLUELLEN + KING HENRY. Though it appear a little out of fashion, + There is much care and valour in this Welshman. + + Enter three soldiers: JOHN BATES, ALEXANDER COURT, + and MICHAEL WILLIAMS + + COURT. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks + yonder? + BATES. I think it be; but we have no great cause to desire the + approach of day. + WILLIAMS. We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we + shall never see the end of it. Who goes there? + KING HENRY. A friend. + WILLIAMS. Under what captain serve you? + KING HENRY. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. + WILLIAMS. A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray + you, what thinks he of our estate? + KING HENRY. Even as men wreck'd upon a sand, that look to be wash'd + off the next tide. + BATES. He hath not told his thought to the King? + KING HENRY. No; nor it is not meet he should. For though I speak it + to you, I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells + to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to + me; all his senses have but human conditions; his ceremonies laid + by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his + affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop, + they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he sees reason of + fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish + as ours are; yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any + appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his + army. + BATES. He may show what outward courage he will; but I believe, as + cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the + neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so + we were quit here. + KING HENRY. By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King: I + think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is. + BATES. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be + ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved. + KING HENRY. I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here + alone, howsoever you speak this, to feel other men's minds; + methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the King's + company, his cause being just and his quarrel honourable. + WILLIAMS. That's more than we know. + BATES. Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough if + we know we are the King's subjects. If his cause be wrong, our + obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us. + WILLIAMS. But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a + heavy reckoning to make when all those legs and arms and heads, + chopp'd off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day + and cry all 'We died at such a place'- some swearing, some crying + for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some + upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I + am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle; for how + can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their + argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black + matter for the King that led them to it; who to disobey were + against all proportion of subjection. + KING HENRY. So, if a son that is by his father sent about + merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of + his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father + that sent him; or if a servant, under his master's command + transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in + many irreconcil'd iniquities, you may call the business of the + master the author of the servant's damnation. But this is not so: + the King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his + soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant; + for they purpose not their death when they purpose their + services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so + spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out + with all unspotted soldiers: some peradventure have on them the + guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling + virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars + their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace + with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law + and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men they + have no wings to fly from God: war is His beadle, war is His + vengeance; so that here men are punish'd for before-breach of the + King's laws in now the King's quarrel. Where they feared the + death they have borne life away; and where they would be safe + they perish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King + guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those + impieties for the which they are now visited. Every subject's + duty is the King's; but every subject's soul is his own. + Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man + in his bed- wash every mote out of his conscience; and dying so, + death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly + lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in him that escapes + it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He + let him outlive that day to see His greatness, and to teach + others how they should prepare. + WILLIAMS. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his + own head- the King is not to answer for it. + BATES. I do not desire he should answer for me, and yet I determine + to fight lustily for him. + KING HENRY. I myself heard the King say he would not be ransom'd. + WILLIAMS. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our + throats are cut he may be ransom'd, and we ne'er the wiser. + KING HENRY. If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after. + WILLIAMS. You pay him then! That's a perilous shot out of an + elder-gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a + monarch! You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with + fanning in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll never trust + his word after! Come, 'tis a foolish saying. + KING HENRY. Your reproof is something too round; I should be angry + with you, if the time were convenient. + WILLIAMS. Let it be a quarrel between us if you live. + KING HENRY. I embrace it. + WILLIAMS. How shall I know thee again? + KING HENRY. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my + bonnet; then if ever thou dar'st acknowledge it, I will make it + my quarrel. + WILLIAMS. Here's my glove; give me another of thine. + KING HENRY. There. + WILLIAMS. This will I also wear in my cap; if ever thou come to me + and say, after to-morrow, 'This is my glove,' by this hand I will + take thee a box on the ear. + KING HENRY. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it. + WILLIAMS. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd. + KING HENRY. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King's + company. + WILLIAMS. Keep thy word. Fare thee well. + BATES. Be friends, you English fools, be friends; we have + French quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon. + KING HENRY. Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one + they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders; but it + is no English treason to cut French crowns, and to-morrow the + King himself will be a clipper. + Exeunt soldiers + Upon the King! Let us our lives, our souls, + Our debts, our careful wives, + Our children, and our sins, lay on the King! + We must bear all. O hard condition, + Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath + Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel + But his own wringing! What infinite heart's ease + Must kings neglect that private men enjoy! + And what have kings that privates have not too, + Save ceremony- save general ceremony? + And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony? + What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more + Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers? + What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in? + O Ceremony, show me but thy worth! + What is thy soul of adoration? + Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, + Creating awe and fear in other men? + Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd + Than they in fearing. + What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, + But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, + And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! + Thinks thou the fiery fever will go out + With titles blown from adulation? + Will it give place to flexure and low bending? + Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee, + Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream, + That play'st so subtly with a king's repose. + I am a king that find thee; and I know + 'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, + The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, + The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, + The farced tide running fore the king, + The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp + That beats upon the high shore of this world- + No, not all these, thrice gorgeous ceremony, + Not all these, laid in bed majestical, + Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave + Who, with a body fill'd and vacant mind, + Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread; + Never sees horrid night, the child of hell; + But, like a lackey, from the rise to set + Sweats in the eye of Pheebus, and all night + Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn, + Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse; + And follows so the ever-running year + With profitable labour, to his grave. + And but for ceremony, such a wretch, + Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, + Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king. + The slave, a member of the country's peace, + Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots + What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace + Whose hours the peasant best advantages. + + Enter ERPINGHAM + + ERPINGHAM. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, + Seek through your camp to find you. + KING. Good old knight, + Collect them all together at my tent: + I'll be before thee. + ERPINGHAM. I shall do't, my lord. Exit + KING. O God of battles, steel my soldiers' hearts, + Possess them not with fear! Take from them now + The sense of reck'ning, if th' opposed numbers + Pluck their hearts from them! Not to-day, O Lord, + O, not to-day, think not upon the fault + My father made in compassing the crown! + I Richard's body have interred new, + And on it have bestowed more contrite tears + Than from it issued forced drops of blood; + Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, + Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up + Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built + Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests + Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do; + Though all that I can do is nothing worth, + Since that my penitence comes after all, + Imploring pardon. + + Enter GLOUCESTER + + GLOUCESTER. My liege! + KING HENRY. My brother Gloucester's voice? Ay; + I know thy errand, I will go with thee; + The day, my friends, and all things, stay for me. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +The French camp + +Enter the DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and others + + ORLEANS. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords! + DAUPHIN. Montez a cheval! My horse! Varlet, laquais! Ha! + ORLEANS. O brave spirit! + DAUPHIN. Via! Les eaux et la terre- + ORLEANS. Rien puis? L'air et le feu. + DAUPHIN. Ciel! cousin Orleans. + + Enter CONSTABLE + + Now, my Lord Constable! + CONSTABLE. Hark how our steeds for present service neigh! + DAUPHIN. Mount them, and make incision in their hides, + That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, + And dout them with superfluous courage, ha! + RAMBURES. What, will you have them weep our horses' blood? + How shall we then behold their natural tears? + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. The English are embattl'd, you French peers. + CONSTABLE. To horse, you gallant Princes! straight to horse! + Do but behold yon poor and starved band, + And your fair show shall suck away their souls, + Leaving them but the shales and husks of men. + There is not work enough for all our hands; + Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins + To give each naked curtle-axe a stain + That our French gallants shall to-day draw out, + And sheathe for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them, + The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them. + 'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords, + That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants- + Who in unnecessary action swarm + About our squares of battle- were enow + To purge this field of, such a hilding foe; + Though we upon this mountain's basis by + Took stand for idle speculation- + But that our honours must not. What's to say? + A very little little let us do, + And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound + The tucket sonance and the note to mount; + For our approach shall so much dare the field + That England shall couch down in fear and yield. + + Enter GRANDPRE + + GRANDPRE. Why do you stay so long, my lords of France? + Yond island carrions, desperate of their bones, + Ill-favouredly become the morning field; + Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, + And our air shakes them passing scornfully; + Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, + And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. + The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks + With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor jades + Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips, + The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes, + And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal'd bit + Lies foul with chaw'd grass, still and motionless; + And their executors, the knavish crows, + Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour. + Description cannot suit itself in words + To demonstrate the life of such a battle + In life so lifeless as it shows itself. + CONSTABLE. They have said their prayers and they stay for death. + DAUPHIN. Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits, + And give their fasting horses provender, + And after fight with them? + CONSTABLE. I stay but for my guidon. To the field! + I will the banner from a trumpet take, + And use it for my haste. Come, come, away! + The sun is high, and we outwear the day. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +The English camp + +Enter GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, ERPINGHAM, with all his host; +SALISBURY and WESTMORELAND + + GLOUCESTER. Where is the King? + BEDFORD. The King himself is rode to view their battle. + WESTMORELAND. Of fighting men they have full three-score thousand. + EXETER. There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh. + SALISBURY. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds. + God bye you, Princes all; I'll to my charge. + If we no more meet till we meet in heaven, + Then joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford, + My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, + And my kind kinsman- warriors all, adieu! + BEDFORD. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee! + EXETER. Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly to-day; + And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, + For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour. + Exit SALISBURY + BEDFORD. He is as full of valour as of kindness; + Princely in both. + + Enter the KING + + WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here + But one ten thousand of those men in England + That do no work to-day! + KING. What's he that wishes so? + My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin; + If we are mark'd to die, we are enow + To do our country loss; and if to live, + The fewer men, the greater share of honour. + God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. + By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, + Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; + It yearns me not if men my garments wear; + Such outward things dwell not in my desires. + But if it be a sin to covet honour, + I am the most offending soul alive. + No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England. + God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour + As one man more methinks would share from me + For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! + Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, + That he which hath no stomach to this fight, + Let him depart; his passport shall be made, + And crowns for convoy put into his purse; + We would not die in that man's company + That fears his fellowship to die with us. + This day is call'd the feast of Crispian. + He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, + Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, + And rouse him at the name of Crispian. + He that shall live this day, and see old age, + Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, + And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.' + Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, + And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.' + Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, + But he'll remember, with advantages, + What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, + Familiar in his mouth as household words- + Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, + Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester- + Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red. + This story shall the good man teach his son; + And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, + From this day to the ending of the world, + But we in it shall be remembered- + We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; + For he to-day that sheds his blood with me + Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, + This day shall gentle his condition; + And gentlemen in England now-a-bed + Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, + And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks + That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. + + Re-enter SALISBURY + + SALISBURY. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed: + The French are bravely in their battles set, + And will with all expedience charge on us. + KING HENRY. All things are ready, if our minds be so. + WESTMORELAND. Perish the man whose mind is backward now! + KING HENRY. Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz? + WESTMORELAND. God's will, my liege! would you and I alone, + Without more help, could fight this royal battle! + KING HENRY. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men; + Which likes me better than to wish us one. + You know your places. God be with you all! + + Tucket. Enter MONTJOY + + MONTJOY. Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry, + If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound, + Before thy most assured overthrow; + For certainly thou art so near the gulf + Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy, + The constable desires thee thou wilt mind + Thy followers of repentance, that their souls + May make a peaceful and a sweet retire + From off these fields, where, wretches, their poor bodies + Must lie and fester. + KING HENRY. Who hath sent thee now? + MONTJOY. The Constable of France. + KING HENRY. I pray thee bear my former answer back: + Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones. + Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus? + The man that once did sell the lion's skin + While the beast liv'd was kill'd with hunting him. + A many of our bodies shall no doubt + Find native graves; upon the which, I trust, + Shall witness live in brass of this day's work. + And those that leave their valiant bones in France, + Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills, + They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet them + And draw their honours reeking up to heaven, + Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, + The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France. + Mark then abounding valour in our English, + That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing + Break out into a second course of mischief, + Killing in relapse of mortality. + Let me speak proudly: tell the Constable + We are but warriors for the working-day; + Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd + With rainy marching in the painful field; + There's not a piece of feather in our host- + Good argument, I hope, we will not fly- + And time hath worn us into slovenry. + But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim; + And my poor soldiers tell me yet ere night + They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck + The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads + And turn them out of service. If they do this- + As, if God please, they shall- my ransom then + Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour; + Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald; + They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints; + Which if they have, as I will leave 'em them, + Shall yield them little, tell the Constable. + MONTJOY. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well: + Thou never shalt hear herald any more. Exit + KING HENRY. I fear thou wilt once more come again for a ransom. + + Enter the DUKE OF YORK + + YORK. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg + The leading of the vaward. + KING HENRY. Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away; + And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +The field of battle + +Alarum. Excursions. Enter FRENCH SOLDIER, PISTOL, and BOY + + PISTOL. Yield, cur! + FRENCH SOLDIER. Je pense que vous etes le gentilhomme de bonne + qualite. + PISTOL. Cality! Calen o custure me! Art thou a gentleman? + What is thy name? Discuss. + FRENCH SOLDIER. O Seigneur Dieu! + PISTOL. O, Signieur Dew should be a gentleman. + Perpend my words, O Signieur Dew, and mark: + O Signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox, + Except, O Signieur, thou do give to me + Egregious ransom. + FRENCH SOLDIER. O, prenez misericorde; ayez pitie de moi! + PISTOL. Moy shall not serve; I will have forty moys; + Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat + In drops of crimson blood. + FRENCH SOLDIER. Est-il impossible d'echapper la force de ton bras? + PISTOL. Brass, cur? + Thou damned and luxurious mountain-goat, + Offer'st me brass? + FRENCH SOLDIER. O, pardonnez-moi! + PISTOL. Say'st thou me so? Is that a ton of moys? + Come hither, boy; ask me this slave in French + What is his name. + BOY. Ecoutez: comment etes-vous appele? + FRENCH SOLDIER. Monsieur le Fer. + BOY. He says his name is Master Fer. + PISTOL. Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him- + discuss the same in French unto him. + BOY. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk. + PISTOL. Bid him prepare; for I will cut his throat. + FRENCH SOLDIER. Que dit-il, monsieur? + BOY. Il me commande a vous dire que vous faites vous pret; car ce + soldat ici est dispose tout a cette heure de couper votre gorge. + PISTOL. Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy! + Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns; + Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword. + FRENCH SOLDIER. O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, me + pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison. Gardez ma vie, et + je vous donnerai deux cents ecus. + PISTOL. What are his words? + BOY. He prays you to save his life; he is a gentleman of a good + house, and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns. + PISTOL. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I + The crowns will take. + FRENCH SOLDIER. Petit monsieur, que dit-il? + BOY. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun + prisonnier, neamnoins, pour les ecus que vous l'avez promis, il + est content a vous donner la liberte, le franchisement. + FRENCH SOLDIER. Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remercimens; et + je m'estime heureux que je suis tombe entre les mains d'un + chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et tres distingue + seigneur d'Angleterre. + PISTOL. Expound unto me, boy. + BOY. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks; and he + esteems himself happy that he hath fall'n into the hands of one- + as he thinks- the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy + signieur of England. + PISTOL. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. + Follow me. Exit + BOY. Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. Exit FRENCH SOLDIER + I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart; but + the saying is true- the empty vessel makes the greatest sound. + Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring + devil i' th' old play, that every one may pare his nails with a + wooden dagger; and they are both hang'd; and so would this be, if + he durst steal anything adventurously. I must stay with the + lackeys, with the luggage of our camp. The French might have a + good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none to guard it + but boys. Exit + + + + +SCENE V. +Another part of the field of battle + +Enter CONSTABLE, ORLEANS, BOURBON, DAUPHIN, and RAMBURES + + CONSTABLE. O diable! + ORLEANS. O Seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est perdu! + DAUPHIN. Mort Dieu, ma vie! all is confounded, all! + Reproach and everlasting shame + Sits mocking in our plumes. [A short alarum] + O mechante fortune! Do not run away. + CONSTABLE. Why, an our ranks are broke. + DAUPHIN. O perdurable shame! Let's stab ourselves. + Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for? + ORLEANS. Is this the king we sent to for his ransom? + BOURBON. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame! + Let us die in honour: once more back again; + And he that will not follow Bourbon now, + Let him go hence and, with his cap in hand + Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door + Whilst by a slave, no gender than my dog, + His fairest daughter is contaminated. + CONSTABLE. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now! + Let us on heaps go offer up our lives. + ORLEANS. We are enow yet living in the field + To smother up the English in our throngs, + If any order might be thought upon. + BOURBON. The devil take order now! I'll to the throng. + Let life be short, else shame will be too long. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +Another part of the field + +Alarum. Enter the KING and his train, with prisoners; EXETER, and others + + KING HENRY. Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen; + But all's not done- yet keep the French the field. + EXETER. The Duke of York commends him to your Majesty. + KING HENRY. Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour + I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting; + From helmet to the spur all blood he was. + EXETER. In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie + Larding the plain; and by his bloody side, + Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds, + The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies. + Suffolk first died; and York, all haggled over, + Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped, + And takes him by the beard, kisses the gashes + That bloodily did yawn upon his face, + He cries aloud 'Tarry, my cousin Suffolk. + My soul shall thine keep company to heaven; + Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast; + As in this glorious and well-foughten field + We kept together in our chivalry.' + Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up; + He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand, + And, with a feeble grip, says 'Dear my lord, + Commend my service to my sovereign.' + So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck + He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips; + And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd + A testament of noble-ending love. + The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd + Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd; + But I had not so much of man in me, + And all my mother came into mine eyes + And gave me up to tears. + KING HENRY. I blame you not; + For, hearing this, I must perforce compound + With mistful eyes, or they will issue too. [Alarum] + But hark! what new alarum is this same? + The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men. + Then every soldier kill his prisoners; + Give the word through. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VII. +Another part of the field + +Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER + + FLUELLEN. Kill the poys and the luggage! 'Tis expressly against the + law of arms; 'tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as + can be offert; in your conscience, now, is it not? + GOWER. 'Tis certain there's not a boy left alive; and the cowardly + rascals that ran from the battle ha' done this slaughter; + besides, they have burned and carried away all that was in the + King's tent; wherefore the King most worthily hath caus'd every + soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant King! + FLUELLEN. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What call you + the town's name where Alexander the Pig was born? + GOWER. Alexander the Great. + FLUELLEN. Why, I pray you, is not 'pig' great? The pig, or great, + or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one + reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations. + GOWER. I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon; his father + was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it. + FLUELLEN. I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell + you, Captain, if you look in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant you + sall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that + the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in + Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth; it is + call'd Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the + name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my + fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you + mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come + after it indifferent well; for there is figures in all things. + Alexander- God knows, and you know- in his rages, and his furies, + and his wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his + displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a little + intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales and his angers, look + you, kill his best friend, Cleitus. + GOWER. Our king is not like him in that: he never kill'd any of his + friends. + FLUELLEN. It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out + of my mouth ere it is made and finished. I speak but in the + figures and comparisons of it; as Alexander kill'd his friend + Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups, so also Harry Monmouth, + being in his right wits and his good judgments, turn'd away the + fat knight with the great belly doublet; he was full of jests, + and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I have forgot his name. + GOWER. Sir John Falstaff. + FLUELLEN. That is he. I'll tell you there is good men porn at + Monmouth. + GOWER. Here comes his Majesty. + + Alarum. Enter the KING, WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, + EXETER, and others, with prisoners. Flourish + + KING HENRY. I was not angry since I came to France + Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald, + Ride thou unto the horsemen on yond hill; + If they will fight with us, bid them come down + Or void the field; they do offend our sight. + If they'll do neither, we will come to them + And make them skirr away as swift as stones + Enforced from the old Assyrian slings; + Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have, + And not a man of them that we shall take + Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so. + + Enter MONTJOY + + EXETER. Here comes the herald of the French, my liege. + GLOUCESTER. His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be. + KING HENRY. How now! What means this, herald? know'st thou not + That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom? + Com'st thou again for ransom? + MONTJOY. No, great King; + I come to thee for charitable licence, + That we may wander o'er this bloody field + To book our dead, and then to bury them; + To sort our nobles from our common men; + For many of our princes- woe the while!- + Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood; + So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs + In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds + Fret fetlock deep in gore, and with wild rage + Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, + Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great King, + To view the field in safety, and dispose + Of their dead bodies! + KING HENRY. I tell thee truly, herald, + I know not if the day be ours or no; + For yet a many of your horsemen peer + And gallop o'er the field. + MONTJOY. The day is yours. + KING HENRY. Praised be God, and not our strength, for it! + What is this castle call'd that stands hard by? + MONTJOY. They call it Agincourt. + KING HENRY. Then call we this the field of Agincourt, + Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. + FLUELLEN. Your grandfather of famous memory, an't please your + Majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales, + as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here + in France. + KING HENRY. They did, Fluellen. + FLUELLEN. Your Majesty says very true; if your Majesties is + rememb'red of it, the Welshmen did good service in garden where + leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps; which your + Majesty know to this hour is an honourable badge of the service; + and I do believe your Majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek + upon Saint Tavy's day. + KING HENRY. I wear it for a memorable honour; + For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. + FLUELLEN. All the water in Wye cannot wash your Majesty's Welsh + plood out of your pody, I can tell you that. Got pless it and + preserve it as long as it pleases his Grace and his Majesty too! + KING HENRY. Thanks, good my countryman. + FLUELLEN. By Jeshu, I am your Majesty's countryman, care not who + know it; I will confess it to all the 'orld: I need not be + asham'd of your Majesty, praised be Got, so long as your Majesty + is an honest man. + + Enter WILLIAMS + + KING HENRY. God keep me so! Our heralds go with him: + Bring me just notice of the numbers dead + On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither. + Exeunt heralds with MONTJOY + EXETER. Soldier, you must come to the King. + KING HENRY. Soldier, why wear'st thou that glove in thy cap? + WILLIAMS. An't please your Majesty, 'tis the gage of one that I + should fight withal, if he be alive. + KING HENRY. An Englishman? + WILLIAMS. An't please your Majesty, a rascal that swagger'd with me + last night; who, if 'a live and ever dare to challenge this + glove, I have sworn to take him a box o' th' ear; or if I can see + my glove in his cap- which he swore, as he was a soldier, he + would wear if alive- I will strike it out soundly. + KING HENRY. What think you, Captain Fluellen, is it fit this + soldier keep his oath? + FLUELLEN. He is a craven and a villain else, an't please your + Majesty, in my conscience. + KING HENRY. It may be his enemy is a gentlemen of great sort, quite + from the answer of his degree. + FLUELLEN. Though he be as good a gentleman as the Devil is, as + Lucifier and Belzebub himself, it is necessary, look your Grace, + that he keep his vow and his oath; if he be perjur'd, see you + now, his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jacksauce as + ever his black shoe trod upon God's ground and his earth, in my + conscience, la. + KING HENRY. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meet'st the + fellow. + WILLIAMS. So I Will, my liege, as I live. + KING HENRY. Who serv'st thou under? + WILLIAMS. Under Captain Gower, my liege. + FLUELLEN. Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and + literatured in the wars. + KING HENRY. Call him hither to me, soldier. + WILLIAMS. I will, my liege. Exit + KING HENRY. Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me, and stick + it in thy cap; when Alencon and myself were down together, I + pluck'd this glove from his helm. If any man challenge this, he + is a friend to Alencon and an enemy to our person; if thou + encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love. + FLUELLEN. Your Grace does me as great honours as can be desir'd in + the hearts of his subjects. I would fain see the man that has but + two legs that shall find himself aggrief'd at this glove, that is + all; but I would fain see it once, an please God of his grace + that I might see. + KING HENRY. Know'st thou Gower? + FLUELLEN. He is my dear friend, an please you. + KING HENRY. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent. + FLUELLEN. I will fetch him. Exit + KING HENRY. My Lord of Warwick and my brother Gloucester, + Follow Fluellen closely at the heels; + The glove which I have given him for a favour + May haply purchase him a box o' th' ear. + It is the soldier's: I, by bargain, should + Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick; + If that the soldier strike him, as I judge + By his blunt bearing he will keep his word, + Some sudden mischief may arise of it; + For I do know Fluellen valiant, + And touch'd with choler, hot as gunpowder, + And quickly will return an injury; + Follow, and see there be no harm between them. + Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VIII. +Before KING HENRY'S PAVILION + +Enter GOWER and WILLIAMS + + WILLIAMS. I warrant it is to knight you, Captain. + + Enter FLUELLEN + + FLUELLEN. God's will and his pleasure, Captain, I beseech you now, + come apace to the King: there is more good toward you + peradventure than is in your knowledge to dream of. + WILLIAMS. Sir, know you this glove? + FLUELLEN. Know the glove? I know the glove is a glove. + WILLIAMS. I know this; and thus I challenge it. [Strikes him] + FLUELLEN. 'Sblood, an arrant traitor as any's in the universal + world, or in France, or in England! + GOWER. How now, sir! you villain! + WILLIAMS. Do you think I'll be forsworn? + FLUELLEN. Stand away, Captain Gower; I will give treason his + payment into plows, I warrant you. + WILLIAMS. I am no traitor. + FLUELLEN. That's a lie in thy throat. I charge you in his Majesty's + name, apprehend him: he's a friend of the Duke Alencon's. + + Enter WARWICK and GLOUCESTER + + WARWICK. How now! how now! what's the matter? + FLUELLEN. My Lord of Warwick, here is- praised be God for it!- a + most contagious treason come to light, look you, as you shall + desire in a summer's day. Here is his Majesty. + + Enter the KING and EXETER + + KING HENRY. How now! what's the matter? + FLUELLEN. My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, look + your Grace, has struck the glove which your Majesty is take out + of the helmet of Alencon. + WILLIAMS. My liege, this was my glove: here is the fellow of it; + and he that I gave it to in change promis'd to wear it in his + cap; I promis'd to strike him if he did; I met this man with my + glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word. + FLUELLEN. Your Majesty hear now, saving your Majesty's manhood, + what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy knave it is; I hope + your Majesty is pear me testimony and witness, and will + avouchment, that this is the glove of Alencon that your Majesty + is give me; in your conscience, now. + KING HENRY. Give me thy glove, soldier; look, here is the fellow of + it. + 'Twas I, indeed, thou promised'st to strike, + And thou hast given me most bitter terms. + FLUELLEN. An please your Majesty, let his neck answer for it, if + there is any martial law in the world. + KING HENRY. How canst thou make me satisfaction? + WILLIAMS. All offences, my lord, come from the heart; never came + any from mine that might offend your Majesty. + KING HENRY. It was ourself thou didst abuse. + WILLIAMS. Your Majesty came not like yourself: you appear'd to me + but as a common man; witness the night, your garments, your + lowliness; and what your Highness suffer'd under that shape I + beseech you take it for your own fault, and not mine; for had you + been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore, I beseech + your Highness pardon me. + KING HENRY. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns, + And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow; + And wear it for an honour in thy cap + Till I do challenge it. Give him the crowns; + And, Captain, you must needs be friends with him. + FLUELLEN. By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough + in his belly: hold, there is twelve pence for you; and I pray you + to serve God, and keep you out of prawls, and prabbles, and + quarrels, and dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the better + for you. + WILLIAMS. I will none of your money. + FLUELLEN. It is with a good will; I can tell you it will serve you + to mend your shoes. Come, wherefore should you be so pashful? + Your shoes is not so good. 'Tis a good silling, I warrant you, or + I will change it. + + Enter an ENGLISH HERALD + + KING HENRY. Now, herald, are the dead numb'red? + HERALD. Here is the number of the slaught'red French. + [Gives a paper] + KING HENRY. What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle? + EXETER. Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the King; + John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt; + Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, + Full fifteen hundred, besides common men. + KING HENRY. This note doth tell me of ten thousand French + That in the field lie slain; of princes in this number, + And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead + One hundred twenty-six; added to these, + Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, + Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which + Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights. + So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, + There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; + The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires, + And gentlemen of blood and quality. + The names of those their nobles that lie dead: + Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France; + Jaques of Chatillon, Admiral of France; + The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures; + Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolphin; + John Duke of Alencon; Antony Duke of Brabant, + The brother to the Duke of Burgundy; + And Edward Duke of Bar. Of lusty earls, + Grandpre and Roussi, Fauconbridge and Foix, + Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrake. + Here was a royal fellowship of death! + Where is the number of our English dead? + [HERALD presents another paper] + Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, + Sir Richard Kikely, Davy Gam, Esquire; + None else of name; and of all other men + But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here! + And not to us, but to thy arm alone, + Ascribe we all. When, without stratagem, + But in plain shock and even play of battle, + Was ever known so great and little los + On one part and on th' other? Take it, God, + For it is none but thine. + EXETER. 'Tis wonderful! + KING HENRY. Come, go we in procession to the village; + And be it death proclaimed through our host + To boast of this or take that praise from God + Which is his only. + FLUELLEN. Is it not lawful, an please your Majesty, to tell how + many is kill'd? + KING HENRY. Yes, Captain; but with this acknowledgment, + That God fought for us. + FLUELLEN. Yes, my conscience, he did us great good. + KING HENRY. Do we all holy rites: + Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te Deum'; + The dead with charity enclos'd in clay- + And then to Calais; and to England then; + Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. PROLOGUE. + +Enter CHORUS + + CHORUS. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story + That I may prompt them; and of such as have, + I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse + Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, + Which cannot in their huge and proper life + Be here presented. Now we bear the King + Toward Calais. Grant him there. There seen, + Heave him away upon your winged thoughts + Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach + Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and boys, + Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea, + Which, like a mighty whiffler, fore the King + Seems to prepare his way. So let him land, + And solemnly see him set on to London. + So swift a pace hath thought that even now + You may imagine him upon Blackheath; + Where that his lords desire him to have borne + His bruised helmet and his bended sword + Before him through the city. He forbids it, + Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride; + Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent, + Quite from himself to God. But now behold + In the quick forge and working-house of thought, + How London doth pour out her citizens! + The mayor and all his brethren in best sort- + Like to the senators of th' antique Rome, + With the plebeians swarming at their heels- + Go forth and fetch their conqu'ring Caesar in; + As, by a lower but loving likelihood, + Were now the General of our gracious Empress- + As in good time he may- from Ireland coming, + Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, + How many would the peaceful city quit + To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause, + Did they this Harry. Now in London place him- + As yet the lamentation of the French + Invites the King of England's stay at home; + The Emperor's coming in behalf of France + To order peace between them; and omit + All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd, + Till Harry's back-return again to France. + There must we bring him; and myself have play'd + The interim, by rememb'ring you 'tis past. + Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advance, + After your thoughts, straight back again to France. Exit + + + + +SCENE I. +France. The English camp + +Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER + + GOWER. Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day? Saint + Davy's day is past. + FLUELLEN. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all + things. I will tell you, ass my friend, Captain Gower: the + rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol- which + you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a + fellow, look you now, of no merits- he is come to me, and prings + me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek; it + was in a place where I could not breed no contendon with him; but + I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once + again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires. + + Enter PISTOL + + GOWER. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock. + FLUELLEN. 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. + God pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God + pless you! + PISTOL. Ha! art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Troyan, + To have me fold up Parca's fatal web? + Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. + FLUELLEN. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my + desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, + this leek; because, look you, you do not love it, nor your + affections, and your appetites, and your digestions, does not + agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. + PISTOL. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats. + FLUELLEN. There is one goat for you. [Strikes him] Will you be so + good, scald knave, as eat it? + PISTOL. Base Troyan, thou shalt die. + FLUELLEN. You say very true, scald knave- when God's will is. I + will desire you to live in the meantime, and eat your victuals; + come, there is sauce for it. [Striking him again] You call'd me + yesterday mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a squire of + low degree. I pray you fall to; if you can mock a leek, you can + eat a leek. + GOWER. Enough, Captain, you have astonish'd him. + FLUELLEN. I say I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will + peat his pate four days. Bite, I pray you, it is good for your + green wound and your ploody coxcomb. + PISTOL. Must I bite? + FLUELLEN. Yes, certainly, and out of doubt, and out of question + too, and ambiguides. + PISTOL. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge- I eat and eat, + I swear- + FLUELLEN. Eat, I pray you; will you have some more sauce to your + leek? There is not enough leek to swear by. + PISTOL. Quiet thy cudgel: thou dost see I eat. + FLUELLEN. Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you + throw none away; the skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When + you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you mock at + 'em; that is all. + PISTOL. Good. + FLUELLEN. Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal + your pate. + PISTOL. Me a groat! + FLUELLEN. Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it; or I have + another leek in my pocket which you shall eat. + PISTOL. I take thy groat in earnest of revenge. + FLUELLEN. If I owe you anything I will pay you in cudgels; you + shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God bye + you, and keep you, and heal your pate. + Exit + PISTOL. All hell shall stir for this. + GOWER. Go, go: you are a couterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock + at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect, and + worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not + avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking + and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, + because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could + not therefore handle an English cudgel; you find it otherwise, + and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English + condition. Fare ye well. Exit + PISTOL. Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now? + News have I that my Nell is dead i' th' spital + Of malady of France; + And there my rendezvous is quite cut off. + Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs + Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd I'll turn, + And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. + To England will I steal, and there I'll steal; + And patches will I get unto these cudgell'd scars, + And swear I got them in the Gallia wars. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +France. The FRENCH KING'S palace + +Enter at one door, KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, +WESTMORELAND, and other LORDS; at another, the FRENCH KING, QUEEN ISABEL, +the PRINCESS KATHERINE, ALICE, and other LADIES; the DUKE OF BURGUNDY, +and his train + + KING HENRY. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met! + Unto our brother France, and to our sister, + Health and fair time of day; joy and good wishes + To our most fair and princely cousin Katherine. + And, as a branch and member of this royalty, + By whom this great assembly is contriv'd, + We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy. + And, princes French, and peers, health to you all! + FRENCH KING. Right joyous are we to behold your face, + Most worthy brother England; fairly met! + So are you, princes English, every one. + QUEEN ISABEL. So happy be the issue, brother England, + Of this good day and of this gracious meeting + As we are now glad to behold your eyes- + Your eyes, which hitherto have home in them, + Against the French that met them in their bent, + The fatal balls of murdering basilisks; + The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, + Have lost their quality; and that this day + Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love. + KING HENRY. To cry amen to that, thus we appear. + QUEEN ISABEL. You English princes an, I do salute you. + BURGUNDY. My duty to you both, on equal love, + Great Kings of France and England! That I have labour'd + With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, + To bring your most imperial Majesties + Unto this bar and royal interview, + Your mightiness on both parts best can witness. + Since then my office hath so far prevail'd + That face to face and royal eye to eye + You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me + If I demand, before this royal view, + What rub or what impediment there is + Why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace, + Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, + Should not in this best garden of the world, + Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage? + Alas, she hath from France too long been chas'd! + And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, + Corrupting in it own fertility. + Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, + Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleach'd, + Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, + Put forth disorder'd twigs; her fallow leas + The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, + Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts + That should deracinate such savagery; + The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth + The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, + Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, + Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems + But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, + Losing both beauty and utility. + And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, + Defective in their natures, grow to wildness; + Even so our houses and ourselves and children + Have lost, or do not learn for want of time, + The sciences that should become our country; + But grow, like savages- as soldiers will, + That nothing do but meditate on blood- + To swearing and stern looks, diffus'd attire, + And everything that seems unnatural. + Which to reduce into our former favout + You are assembled; and my speech entreats + That I may know the let why gentle Peace + Should not expel these inconveniences + And bless us with her former qualities. + KING HENRY. If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace + Whose want gives growth to th' imperfections + Which you have cited, you must buy that peace + With full accord to all our just demands; + Whose tenours and particular effects + You have, enschedul'd briefly, in your hands. + BURGUNDY. The King hath heard them; to the which as yet + There is no answer made. + KING HENRY. Well then, the peace, + Which you before so urg'd, lies in his answer. + FRENCH KING. I have but with a cursorary eye + O'erglanced the articles; pleaseth your Grace + To appoint some of your council presently + To sit with us once more, with better heed + To re-survey them, we will suddenly + Pass our accept and peremptory answer. + KING HENRY. Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter, + And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester, + Warwick, and Huntington, go with the King; + And take with you free power to ratify, + Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best + Shall see advantageable for our dignity, + Any thing in or out of our demands; + And we'll consign thereto. Will you, fair sister, + Go with the princes or stay here with us? + QUEEN ISABEL. Our gracious brother, I will go with them; + Haply a woman's voice may do some good, + When articles too nicely urg'd be stood on. + KING HENRY. Yet leave our cousin Katherine here with us; + She is our capital demand, compris'd + Within the fore-rank of our articles. + QUEEN ISABEL. She hath good leave. + Exeunt all but the KING, KATHERINE, and ALICE + KING HENRY. Fair Katherine, and most fair, + Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms + Such as will enter at a lady's ear, + And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? + KATHERINE. Your Majesty shall mock me; I cannot speak your England. + KING HENRY. O fair Katherine, if you will love me soundly with your + French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with + your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate? + KATHERINE. Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell vat is like me. + KING HENRY. An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel. + KATHERINE. Que dit-il? que je suis semblable a les anges? + ALICE. Oui, vraiment, sauf votre grace, ainsi dit-il. + KING HENRY. I said so, dear Katherine, and I must not blush to + affirm it. + KATHERINE. O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de + tromperies. + KING HENRY. What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men are + full of deceits? + ALICE. Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits- dat is + de Princess. + KING HENRY. The Princess is the better English-woman. I' faith, + Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am glad thou + canst speak no better English; for if thou couldst, thou wouldst + find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my + farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but + directly to say 'I love you.' Then, if you urge me farther than + to say 'Do you in faith?' I wear out my suit. Give me your + answer; i' faith, do; and so clap hands and a bargain. How say + you, lady? + KATHERINE. Sauf votre honneur, me understand well. + KING HENRY. Marry, if you would put me to verses or to dance for + your sake, Kate, why you undid me; for the one I have neither + words nor measure, and for the other I have no strength in + measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a + lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour + on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I + should quickly leap into wife. Or if I might buffet for my love, + or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a butcher, + and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off. But, before God, Kate, I + cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my cloquence, nor I have no + cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I never use + till urg'd, nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a + fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning, + that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there, + let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier. If thou + canst love me for this, take me; if not, to say to thee that I + shall die is true- but for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love + thee too. And while thou liv'st, dear Kate, take a fellow of + plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee right, + because he hath not the gift to woo in other places; for these + fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into + ladies' favours, they do always reason themselves out again. + What! a speaker is but a prater: a rhyme is but a ballad. A good + leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will + turn white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will + wither; a full eye will wax hollow. But a good heart, Kate, is + the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon- for + it shines bright and never changes, but keeps his course truly. + If thou would have such a one, take me; and take me, take a + soldier; take a soldier, take a king. And what say'st thou, then, + to my love? Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee. + KATHERINE. Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France? + KING HENRY. No, it is not possible you should love the enemy of + France, Kate, but in loving me you should love the friend of + France; for I love France so well that I will not part with a + village of it; I will have it all mine. And, Kate, when France is + mine and I am yours, then yours is France and you are mine. + KATHERINE. I cannot tell vat is dat. + KING HENRY. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French, which I am sure + will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her + husband's neck, hardly to be shook off. Je quand sur le + possession de France, et quand vous avez le possession de moi- + let me see, what then? Saint Denis be my speed!- donc votre est + France et vous etes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to + conquer the kingdom as to speak so much more French: I shall + never move thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me. + KATHERINE. Sauf votre honneur, le Francais que vous parlez, il est + meilleur que l'Anglais lequel je parle. + KING HENRY. No, faith, is't not, Kate; but thy speaking of my + tongue, and I thine, most truly falsely, must needs be granted to + be much at one. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus much + English- Canst thou love me? + KATHERINE. I cannot tell. + KING HENRY. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them. + Come, I know thou lovest me; and at night, when you come into + your closet, you'll question this gentlewoman about me; and I + know, Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you + love with your heart. But, good Kate, mock me mercifully; the + rather, gentle Princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever + thou beest mine, Kate, as I have a saving faith within me tells + me thou shalt, I get thee with scambling, and thou must therefore + needs prove a good soldier-breeder. Shall not thou and I, between + Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, half French, half + English, that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the + beard? Shall we not? What say'st thou, my fair flower-de-luce? + KATHERINE. I do not know dat. + KING HENRY. No: 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise; do but + now promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of + such a boy; and for my English moiety take the word of a king and + a bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Katherine du monde, mon + tres cher et divin deesse? + KATHERINE. Your Majestee ave fausse French enough to deceive de + most sage damoiselle dat is en France. + KING HENRY. Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true + English, I love thee, Kate; by which honour I dare not swear thou + lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, + notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Now + beshrew my father's ambition! He was thinking of civil wars when + he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with + an aspect of iron, that when I come to woo ladies I fright them. + But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear: + my comfort is, that old age, that in layer-up of beauty, can do + no more spoil upon my face; thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the + worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and + better. And therefore tell me, most fair Katherine, will you have + me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of your + heart with the looks of an empress; take me by the hand and say + 'Harry of England, I am thine.' Which word thou shalt no sooner + bless mine ear withal but I will tell thee aloud 'England is + thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet + is thine'; who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not + fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good + fellows. Come, your answer in broken music- for thy voice is + music and thy English broken; therefore, Queen of all, Katherine, + break thy mind to me in broken English, wilt thou have me? + KATHERINE. Dat is as it shall please de roi mon pere. + KING HENRY. Nay, it will please him well, Kate- it shall please + him, Kate. + KATHERINE. Den it sall also content me. + KING HENRY. Upon that I kiss your hand, and I can you my queen. + KATHERINE. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne + veux point que vous abaissiez votre grandeur en baisant la main + d'une, notre seigneur, indigne serviteur; excusez-moi, je vous + supplie, mon tres puissant seigneur. + KING HENRY. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. + KATHERINE. Les dames et demoiselles pour etre baisees devant leur + noces, il n'est pas la coutume de France. + KING HENRY. Madame my interpreter, what says she? + ALICE. Dat it is not be de fashion pour le ladies of France- I + cannot tell vat is baiser en Anglish. + KING HENRY. To kiss. + ALICE. Your Majestee entendre bettre que moi. + KING HENRY. It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss + before they are married, would she say? + ALICE. Oui, vraiment. + KING HENRY. O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, + you and I cannot be confin'd within the weak list of a country's + fashion; we are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that + follows our places stops the mouth of all find-faults- as I will + do yours for upholding the nice fashion of your country in + denying me a kiss; therefore, patiently and yielding. [Kissing + her] You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is more + eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the + French council; and they should sooner persuade Henry of England + than a general petition of monarchs. Here comes your father. + + Enter the FRENCH POWER and the ENGLISH LORDS + + BURGUNDY. God save your Majesty! My royal cousin, + Teach you our princess English? + KING HENRY. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I + love her; and that is good English. + BURGUNDY. Is she not apt? + KING HENRY. Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not + smooth; so that, having neither the voice nor the heart of + flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in + her that he will appear in his true likeness. + BURGUNDY. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you for + that. If you would conjure in her, you must make a circle; if + conjure up love in her in his true likeness, he must appear naked + and blind. Can you blame her, then, being a maid yet ros'd over + with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance of + a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a + hard condition for a maid to consign to. + KING HENRY. Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and + enforces. + BURGUNDY. They are then excus'd, my lord, when they see not what + they do. + KING HENRY. Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent + winking. + BURGUNDY. I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will teach + her to know my meaning; for maids well summer'd and warm kept are + like flies at Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they have their + eyes; and then they will endure handling, which before would not + abide looking on. + KING HENRY. This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer; and + so I shall catch the fly, your cousin, in the latter end, and she + must be blind too. + BURGUNDY. As love is, my lord, before it loves. + KING HENRY. It is so; and you may, some of you, thank love for my + blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair + French maid that stands in my way. + FRENCH KING. Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities + turned into a maid; for they are all girdled with maiden walls + that war hath never ent'red. + KING HENRY. Shall Kate be my wife? + FRENCH KING. So please you. + KING HENRY. I am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait + on her; so the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show + me the way to my will. + FRENCH KING. We have consented to all terms of reason. + KING HENRY. Is't so, my lords of England? + WESTMORELAND. The king hath granted every article: + His daughter first; and then in sequel, all, + According to their firm proposed natures. + EXETER. Only he hath not yet subscribed this: + Where your Majesty demands that the King of France, having any + occasion to write for matter of grant, shall name your Highness + in this form and with this addition, in French, Notre tres cher + fils Henri, Roi d'Angleterre, Heritier de France; and thus in + Latin, Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, Rex Angliae et + Haeres Franciae. + FRENCH KING. Nor this I have not, brother, so denied + But our request shall make me let it pass. + KING HENRY. I pray you, then, in love and dear alliance, + Let that one article rank with the rest; + And thereupon give me your daughter. + FRENCH KING. Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up + Issue to me; that the contending kingdoms + Of France and England, whose very shores look pale + With envy of each other's happiness, + May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction + Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord + In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance + His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France. + LORDS. Amen! + KING HENRY. Now, welcome, Kate; and bear me witness all, + That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen. [Floulish] + QUEEN ISABEL. God, the best maker of all marriages, + Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one! + As man and wife, being two, are one in love, + So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal + That never may ill office or fell jealousy, + Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, + Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms, + To make divorce of their incorporate league; + That English may as French, French Englishmen, + Receive each other. God speak this Amen! + ALL. Amen! + KING HENRY. Prepare we for our marriage; on which day, + My Lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath, + And all the peers', for surety of our leagues. + Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me, + And may our oaths well kept and prosp'rous be! + Sennet. Exeunt + +EPILOGUE + EPILOGUE. + + Enter CHORUS + + CHORUS. Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen, + Our bending author hath pursu'd the story, + In little room confining mighty men, + Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. + Small time, but, in that small, most greatly lived + This star of England. Fortune made his sword; + By which the world's best garden he achieved, + And of it left his son imperial lord. + Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd king + Of France and England, did this king succeed; + Whose state so many had the managing + That they lost France and made his England bleed; + Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake, + In your fair minds let this acceptance take. Exit + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1592 + +THE FIRST PART OF HENRY THE SIXTH + +by William Shakespeare + + +Dramatis Personae + + KING HENRY THE SIXTH + DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, uncle to the King, and Protector + DUKE OF BEDFORD, uncle to the King, and Regent of France + THOMAS BEAUFORT, DUKE OF EXETER, great-uncle to the king + HENRY BEAUFORT, great-uncle to the King, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, + and afterwards CARDINAL + JOHN BEAUFORT, EARL OF SOMERSET, afterwards Duke + RICHARD PLANTAGENET, son of Richard late Earl of Cambridge, + afterwards DUKE OF YORK + EARL OF WARWICK + EARL OF SALISBURY + EARL OF SUFFOLK + LORD TALBOT, afterwards EARL OF SHREWSBURY + JOHN TALBOT, his son + EDMUND MORTIMER, EARL OF MARCH + SIR JOHN FASTOLFE + SIR WILLIAM LUCY + SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE + SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE + MAYOR of LONDON + WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower + VERNON, of the White Rose or York faction + BASSET, of the Red Rose or Lancaster faction + A LAWYER + GAOLERS, to Mortimer + CHARLES, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France + REIGNIER, DUKE OF ANJOU, and titular King of Naples + DUKE OF BURGUNDY + DUKE OF ALENCON + BASTARD OF ORLEANS + GOVERNOR OF PARIS + MASTER-GUNNER OF ORLEANS, and his SON + GENERAL OF THE FRENCH FORCES in Bordeaux + A FRENCH SERGEANT + A PORTER + AN OLD SHEPHERD, father to Joan la Pucelle + MARGARET, daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to + King Henry + COUNTESS OF AUVERGNE + JOAN LA PUCELLE, Commonly called JOAN OF ARC + + Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, + Messengers, English and French Attendants. Fiends appearing + to La Pucelle + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +England and France + + + + +The First Part of King Henry the Sixth + + +ACT I. SCENE 1. + +Westminster Abbey + +Dead March. Enter the funeral of KING HENRY THE FIFTH, +attended on by the DUKE OF BEDFORD, Regent of France, +the DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, Protector, the DUKE OF EXETER, +the EARL OF WARWICK, the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER + + BEDFORD. Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to + night! Comets, importing change of times and states, + Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky + And with them scourge the bad revolting stars + That have consented unto Henry's death! + King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long! + England ne'er lost a king of so much worth. + GLOUCESTER. England ne'er had a king until his time. + Virtue he had, deserving to command; + His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams; + His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings; + His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire, + More dazzled and drove back his enemies + Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces. + What should I say? His deeds exceed all speech: + He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered. + EXETER. We mourn in black; why mourn we not in blood? + Henry is dead and never shall revive. + Upon a wooden coffin we attend; + And death's dishonourable victory + We with our stately presence glorify, + Like captives bound to a triumphant car. + What! shall we curse the planets of mishap + That plotted thus our glory's overthrow? + Or shall we think the subtle-witted French + Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, + By magic verses have contriv'd his end? + WINCHESTER. He was a king bless'd of the King of kings; + Unto the French the dreadful judgment-day + So dreadful will not be as was his sight. + The battles of the Lord of Hosts he fought; + The Church's prayers made him so prosperous. + GLOUCESTER. The Church! Where is it? Had not churchmen + pray'd, + His thread of life had not so soon decay'd. + None do you like but an effeminate prince, + Whom like a school-boy you may overawe. + WINCHESTER. Gloucester, whate'er we like, thou art + Protector + And lookest to command the Prince and realm. + Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe + More than God or religious churchmen may. + GLOUCESTER. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh; + And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st, + Except it be to pray against thy foes. + BEDFORD. Cease, cease these jars and rest your minds in peace; + Let's to the altar. Heralds, wait on us. + Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms, + Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead. + Posterity, await for wretched years, + When at their mothers' moist'ned eyes babes shall suck, + Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears, + And none but women left to wail the dead. + HENRY the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate: + Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils, + Combat with adverse planets in the heavens. + A far more glorious star thy soul will make + Than Julius Caesar or bright + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. My honourable lords, health to you all! + Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, + Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture: + Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Orleans, + Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost. + BEDFORD. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse? + Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns + Will make him burst his lead and rise from death. + GLOUCESTER. Is Paris lost? Is Rouen yielded up? + If Henry were recall'd to life again, + These news would cause him once more yield the ghost. + EXETER. How were they lost? What treachery was us'd? + MESSENGER. No treachery, but want of men and money. + Amongst the soldiers this is muttered + That here you maintain several factions; + And whilst a field should be dispatch'd and fought, + You are disputing of your generals: + One would have ling'ring wars, with little cost; + Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings; + A third thinks, without expense at all, + By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd. + Awake, awake, English nobility! + Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot. + Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms; + Of England's coat one half is cut away. + EXETER. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, + These tidings would call forth their flowing tides. + BEDFORD. Me they concern; Regent I am of France. + Give me my steeled coat; I'll fight for France. + Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! + Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes, + To weep their intermissive miseries. + + Enter a second MESSENGER + + SECOND MESSENGER. Lords, view these letters full of bad + mischance. + France is revolted from the English quite, + Except some petty towns of no import. + The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims; + The Bastard of Orleans with him is join'd; + Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part; + The Duke of Alencon flieth to his side. + EXETER. The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to him! + O, whither shall we fly from this reproach? + GLOUCESTER. We will not fly but to our enemies' throats. + Bedford, if thou be slack I'll fight it out. + BEDFORD. Gloucester, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness? + An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, + Wherewith already France is overrun. + + Enter a third MESSENGER + + THIRD MESSENGER. My gracious lords, to add to your + laments, + Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse, + I must inform you of a dismal fight + Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French. + WINCHESTER. What! Wherein Talbot overcame? Is't so? + THIRD MESSENGER. O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was + o'erthrown. + The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. + The tenth of August last this dreadful lord, + Retiring from the siege of Orleans, + Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, + By three and twenty thousand of the French + Was round encompassed and set upon. + No leisure had he to enrank his men; + He wanted pikes to set before his archers; + Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck'd out of hedges + They pitched in the ground confusedly + To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. + More than three hours the fight continued; + Where valiant Talbot, above human thought, + Enacted wonders with his sword and lance: + Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him; + Here, there, and everywhere, enrag'd he slew + The French exclaim'd the devil was in arms; + All the whole army stood agaz'd on him. + His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit, + 'A Talbot! a Talbot!' cried out amain, + And rush'd into the bowels of the battle. + Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up + If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward. + He, being in the vaward plac'd behind + With purpose to relieve and follow them- + Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke; + Hence grew the general wreck and massacre. + Enclosed were they with their enemies. + A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace, + Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back; + Whom all France, with their chief assembled strength, + Durst not presume to look once in the face. + BEDFORD. Is Talbot slain? Then I will slay myself, + For living idly here in pomp and ease, + Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, + Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd. + THIRD MESSENGER. O no, he lives, but is took prisoner, + And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford; + Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise. + BEDFORD. His ransom there is none but I shall pay. + I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne; + His crown shall be the ransom of my friend; + Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours. + Farewell, my masters; to my task will I; + Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make + To keep our great Saint George's feast withal. + Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, + Whose bloody deeds shall make an Europe quake. + THIRD MESSENGER. So you had need; for Orleans is besieg'd; + The English army is grown weak and faint; + The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply + And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, + Since they, so few, watch such a multitude. + EXETER. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn, + Either to quell the Dauphin utterly, + Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. + BEDFORD. I do remember it, and here take my leave + To go about my preparation. Exit + GLOUCESTER. I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can + To view th' artillery and munition; + And then I will proclaim young Henry king. Exit + EXETER. To Eltham will I, where the young King is, + Being ordain'd his special governor; + And for his safety there I'll best devise. Exit + WINCHESTER. [Aside] Each hath his place and function to + attend: + I am left out; for me nothing remains. + But long I will not be Jack out of office. + The King from Eltham I intend to steal, + And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 2. + + France. Before Orleans + + Sound a flourish. Enter CHARLES THE DAUPHIN, ALENCON, + and REIGNIER, marching with drum and soldiers + + CHARLES. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens + So in the earth, to this day is not known. + Late did he shine upon the English side; + Now we are victors, upon us he smiles. + What towns of any moment but we have? + At pleasure here we lie near Orleans; + Otherwhiles the famish'd English, like pale ghosts, + Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. + ALENCON. They want their porridge and their fat bull + beeves. + Either they must be dieted like mules + And have their provender tied to their mouths, + Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice. + REIGNIER. Let's raise the siege. Why live we idly here? + Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear; + Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury, + And he may well in fretting spend his gall + Nor men nor money hath he to make war. + CHARLES. Sound, sound alarum; we will rush on them. + Now for the honour of the forlorn French! + Him I forgive my death that killeth me, + When he sees me go back one foot or flee. Exeunt + + Here alarum. They are beaten hack by the English, with + great loss. Re-enter CHARLES, ALENCON, and REIGNIER + + CHARLES. Who ever saw the like? What men have I! + Dogs! cowards! dastards! I would ne'er have fled + But that they left me midst my enemies. + REIGNIER. Salisbury is a desperate homicide; + He fighteth as one weary of his life. + The other lords, like lions wanting food, + Do rush upon us as their hungry prey. + ALENCON. Froissart, a countryman of ours, records + England all Olivers and Rowlands bred + During the time Edward the Third did reign. + More truly now may this be verified; + For none but Samsons and Goliases + It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten! + Lean raw-bon'd rascals! Who would e'er suppose + They had such courage and audacity? + CHARLES. Let's leave this town; for they are hare-brain'd + slaves, + And hunger will enforce them to be more eager. + Of old I know them; rather with their teeth + The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege. + REIGNIER. I think by some odd gimmers or device + Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on; + Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do. + By my consent, we'll even let them alone. + ALENCON. Be it so. + + Enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS + + BASTARD. Where's the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him. + CHARLES. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us. + BASTARD. Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd. + Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? + Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand. + A holy maid hither with me I bring, + Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven, + Ordained is to raise this tedious siege + And drive the English forth the bounds of France. + The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, + Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome: + What's past and what's to come she can descry. + Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words, + For they are certain and unfallible. + CHARLES. Go, call her in. [Exit BASTARD] + But first, to try her skill, + Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place; + Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern; + By this means shall we sound what skill she hath. + + Re-enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS with + JOAN LA PUCELLE + + REIGNIER. Fair maid, is 't thou wilt do these wondrous feats? + PUCELLE. Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to beguile me? + Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from behind; + I know thee well, though never seen before. + Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me. + In private will I talk with thee apart. + Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile. + REIGNIER. She takes upon her bravely at first dash. + PUCELLE. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter, + My wit untrain'd in any kind of art. + Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd + To shine on my contemptible estate. + Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs + And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, + God's Mother deigned to appear to me, + And in a vision full of majesty + Will'd me to leave my base vocation + And free my country from calamity + Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success. + In complete glory she reveal'd herself; + And whereas I was black and swart before, + With those clear rays which she infus'd on me + That beauty am I bless'd with which you may see. + Ask me what question thou canst possible, + And I will answer unpremeditated. + My courage try by combat if thou dar'st, + And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. + Resolve on this: thou shalt be fortunate + If thou receive me for thy warlike mate. + CHARLES. Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high terms. + Only this proof I'll of thy valour make + In single combat thou shalt buckle with me; + And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true; + Otherwise I renounce all confidence. + PUCELLE. I am prepar'd; here is my keen-edg'd sword, + Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side, + The which at Touraine, in Saint Katherine's churchyard, + Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth. + CHARLES. Then come, o' God's name; I fear no woman. + PUCELLE. And while I live I'll ne'er fly from a man. + [Here they fight and JOAN LA PUCELLE overcomes] + CHARLES. Stay, stay thy hands; thou art an Amazon, + And fightest with the sword of Deborah. + PUCELLE. Christ's Mother helps me, else I were too weak. + CHARLES. Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me. + Impatiently I burn with thy desire; + My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd. + Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, + Let me thy servant and not sovereign be. + 'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus. + PUCELLE. I must not yield to any rites of love, + For my profession's sacred from above. + When I have chased all thy foes from hence, + Then will I think upon a recompense. + CHARLES. Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall. + REIGNIER. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. + ALENCON. Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock; + Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech. + REIGNIER. Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean? + ALENCON. He may mean more than we poor men do know; + These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues. + REIGNIER. My lord, where are you? What devise you on? + Shall we give o'er Orleans, or no? + PUCELLE. Why, no, I say; distrustful recreants! + Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard. + CHARLES. What she says I'll confirm; we'll fight it out. + PUCELLE. Assign'd am I to be the English scourge. + This night the siege assuredly I'll raise. + Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days, + Since I have entered into these wars. + Glory is like a circle in the water, + Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself + Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought. + With Henry's death the English circle ends; + Dispersed are the glories it included. + Now am I like that proud insulting ship + Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once. + CHARLES. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove? + Thou with an eagle art inspired then. + Helen, the mother of great Constantine, + Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters were like thee. + Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth, + How may I reverently worship thee enough? + ALENCON. Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege. + REIGNIER. Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours; + Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd. + CHARLES. Presently we'll try. Come, let's away about it. + No prophet will I trust if she prove false. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 3. + + London. Before the Tower gates + + Enter the DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, with his serving-men + in blue coats + + GLOUCESTER. I am come to survey the Tower this day; + Since Henry's death, I fear, there is conveyance. + Where be these warders that they wait not here? + Open the gates; 'tis Gloucester that calls. + FIRST WARDER. [Within] Who's there that knocks so + imperiously? + FIRST SERVING-MAN. It is the noble Duke of Gloucester. + SECOND WARDER. [Within] Whoe'er he be, you may not be + let in. + FIRST SERVING-MAN. Villains, answer you so the Lord + Protector? + FIRST WARDER. [Within] The Lord protect him! so we + answer him. + We do no otherwise than we are will'd. + GLOUCESTER. Who willed you, or whose will stands but + mine? + There's none Protector of the realm but I. + Break up the gates, I'll be your warrantize. + Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms? + [GLOUCESTER'S men rush at the Tower gates, and + WOODVILLE the Lieutenant speaks within] + WOODVILLE. [Within] What noise is this? What traitors + have we here? + GLOUCESTER. Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear? + Open the gates; here's Gloucester that would enter. + WOODVILLE. [Within] Have patience, noble Duke, I may + not open; + The Cardinal of Winchester forbids. + From him I have express commandment + That thou nor none of thine shall be let in. + GLOUCESTER. Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him fore me? + Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate + Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook! + Thou art no friend to God or to the King. + Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly. + SERVING-MEN. Open the gates unto the Lord Protector, + Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly. + + Enter to the PROTECTOR at the Tower gates WINCHESTER + and his men in tawny coats + + WINCHESTER. How now, ambitious Humphry! What means + this? + GLOUCESTER. Peel'd priest, dost thou command me to be + shut out? + WINCHESTER. I do, thou most usurping proditor, + And not Protector of the King or realm. + GLOUCESTER. Stand back, thou manifest conspirator, + Thou that contrived'st to murder our dead lord; + Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin. + I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, + If thou proceed in this thy insolence. + WINCHESTER. Nay, stand thou back; I will not budge a foot. + This be Damascus; be thou cursed Cain, + To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt. + GLOUCESTER. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back. + Thy scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth + I'll use to carry thee out of this place. + WINCHESTER. Do what thou dar'st; I beard thee to thy face. + GLOUCESTER. What! am I dar'd and bearded to my face? + Draw, men, for all this privileged place + Blue-coats to tawny-coats. Priest, beware your beard; + I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly; + Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat; + In spite of Pope or dignities of church, + Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down. + WINCHESTER. Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the + Pope. + GLOUCESTER. Winchester goose! I cry 'A rope, a rope!' + Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay? + Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array. + Out, tawny-coats! Out, scarlet hypocrite! + + Here GLOUCESTER'S men beat out the CARDINAL'S + men; and enter in the hurly burly the MAYOR OF + LONDON and his OFFICERS + + MAYOR. Fie, lords! that you, being supreme magistrates, + Thus contumeliously should break the peace! + GLOUCESTER. Peace, Mayor! thou know'st little of my wrongs: + Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor King, + Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use. + WINCHESTER. Here's Gloucester, a foe to citizens; + One that still motions war and never peace, + O'ercharging your free purses with large fines; + That seeks to overthrow religion, + Because he is Protector of the realm, + And would have armour here out of the Tower, + To crown himself King and suppress the Prince. + GLOUCESTER. I Will not answer thee with words, but blows. + [Here they skirmish again] + MAYOR. Nought rests for me in this tumultuous strife + But to make open proclamation. + Come, officer, as loud as e'er thou canst, + Cry. + OFFICER. [Cries] All manner of men assembled here in arms + this day against God's peace and the King's, we charge + and command you, in his Highness' name, to repair to + your several dwelling-places; and not to wear, handle, or + use, any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, upon + pain of death. + GLOUCESTER. Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law; + But we shall meet and break our minds at large. + WINCHESTER. Gloucester, we'll meet to thy cost, be sure; + Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work. + MAYOR. I'll call for clubs if you will not away. + This Cardinal's more haughty than the devil. + GLOUCESTER. Mayor, farewell; thou dost but what thou + mayst. + WINCHESTER. Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head, + For I intend to have it ere long. + Exeunt, severally, GLOUCESTER and WINCHESTER + with their servants + MAYOR. See the coast clear'd, and then we will depart. + Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear! + I myself fight not once in forty year. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 4. + + France. Before Orleans + + Enter, on the walls, the MASTER-GUNNER + OF ORLEANS and his BOY + + MASTER-GUNNER. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is + besieg'd, + And how the English have the suburbs won. + BOY. Father, I know; and oft have shot at them, + Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim. + MASTER-GUNNER. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd + by me. + Chief master-gunner am I of this town; + Something I must do to procure me grace. + The Prince's espials have informed me + How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd, + Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars + In yonder tower, to overpeer the city, + And thence discover how with most advantage + They may vex us with shot or with assault. + To intercept this inconvenience, + A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd; + And even these three days have I watch'd + If I could see them. Now do thou watch, + For I can stay no longer. + If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word; + And thou shalt find me at the Governor's. Exit + BOY. Father, I warrant you; take you no care; + I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them. Exit + + Enter SALISBURY and TALBOT on the turrets, with + SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE, SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE, + and others + + SALISBURY. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd! + How wert thou handled being prisoner? + Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd? + Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top. + TALBOT. The Earl of Bedford had a prisoner + Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles; + For him was I exchang'd and ransomed. + But with a baser man of arms by far + Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd me; + Which I disdaining scorn'd, and craved death + Rather than I would be so vile esteem'd. + In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd. + But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart + Whom with my bare fists I would execute, + If I now had him brought into my power. + SALISBURY. Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd. + TALBOT. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious taunts, + In open market-place produc'd they me + To be a public spectacle to all; + Here, said they, is the terror of the French, + The scarecrow that affrights our children so. + Then broke I from the officers that led me, + And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground + To hurl at the beholders of my shame; + My grisly countenance made others fly; + None durst come near for fear of sudden death. + In iron walls they deem'd me not secure; + So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread + That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel + And spurn in pieces posts of adamant; + Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had + That walk'd about me every minute-while; + And if I did but stir out of my bed, + Ready they were to shoot me to the heart. + + Enter the BOY with a linstock + + SALISBURY. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd; + But we will be reveng'd sufficiently. + Now it is supper-time in Orleans: + Here, through this grate, I count each one + And view the Frenchmen how they fortify. + Let us look in; the sight will much delight thee. + Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glansdale, + Let me have your express opinions + Where is best place to make our batt'ry next. + GARGRAVE. I think at the North Gate; for there stand lords. + GLANSDALE. And I here, at the bulwark of the bridge. + TALBOT. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd, + Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. + [Here they shoot and SALISBURY and GARGRAVE + fall down] + SALISBURY. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners! + GARGRAVE. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man! + TALBOT. What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd us? + Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak. + How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men? + One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off! + Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand + That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy! + In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame; + Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars; + Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up, + His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field. + Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail, + One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace; + The sun with one eye vieweth all the world. + Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive + If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands! + Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it. + Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life? + Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him. + Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort, + Thou shalt not die whiles + He beckons with his hand and smiles on me, + As who should say 'When I am dead and gone, + Remember to avenge me on the French.' + Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero, + Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn. + Wretched shall France be only in my name. + [Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens] + What stir is this? What tumult's in the heavens? + Whence cometh this alarum and the noise? + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. My lord, my lord, the French have gather'd + head + The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd, + A holy prophetess new risen up, + Is come with a great power to raise the siege. + [Here SALISBURY lifteth himself up and groans] + TALBOT. Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth groan. + It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd. + Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you. + Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish, + Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels + And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. + Convey me Salisbury into his tent, + And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare. + Alarum. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 5. + + Before Orleans + + Here an alarum again, and TALBOT pursueth the + DAUPHIN and driveth him. Then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE + driving Englishmen before her. Then enter TALBOT + + TALBOT. Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? + Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; + A woman clad in armour chaseth them. + + Enter LA PUCELLE + + Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee. + Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee; + Blood will I draw on thee-thou art a witch + And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st. + PUCELLE. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee. + [Here they fight] + TALBOT. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail? + My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage. + And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder, + But I will chastise this high minded strumpet. + [They fight again] + PUCELLE. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come. + I must go victual Orleans forthwith. + [A short alarum; then enter the town with soldiers] + O'ertake me if thou canst; I scorn thy strength. + Go, go, cheer up thy hungry starved men; + Help Salisbury to make his testament. + This day is ours, as many more shall be. Exit + TALBOT. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel; + I know not where I am nor what I do. + A witch by fear, not force, like Hannibal, + Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists. + So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench + Are from their hives and houses driven away. + They call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs; + Now like to whelps we crying run away. + [A short alarum] + Hark, countrymen! Either renew the fight + Or tear the lions out of England's coat; + Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead: + Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf, + Or horse or oxen from the leopard, + As you fly from your oft subdued slaves. + [Alarum. Here another skirmish] + It will not be-retire into your trenches. + You all consented unto Salisbury's death, + For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. + Pucelle is ent'red into Orleans + In spite of us or aught that we could do. + O, would I were to die with Salisbury! + The shame hereof will make me hide my head. + Exit TALBOT. Alarum; retreat + + + + SCENE 6. + + ORLEANS + + Flourish. Enter on the walls, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, + REIGNIER, ALENCON, and soldiers + + PUCELLE. Advance our waving colours on the walls; + Rescu'd is Orleans from the English. + Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word. + CHARLES. Divinest creature, Astraea's daughter, + How shall I honour thee for this success? + Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens, + That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next. + France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess. + Recover'd is the town of Orleans. + More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state. + REIGNIER. Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the + town? + Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires + And feast and banquet in the open streets + To celebrate the joy that God hath given us. + ALENCON. All France will be replete with mirth and joy + When they shall hear how we have play'd the men. + CHARLES. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won; + For which I will divide my crown with her; + And all the priests and friars in my realm + Shall in procession sing her endless praise. + A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear + Than Rhodope's of Memphis ever was. + In memory of her, when she is dead, + Her ashes, in an urn more precious + Than the rich jewel'd coffer of Darius, + Transported shall be at high festivals + Before the kings and queens of France. + No longer on Saint Denis will we cry, + But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. + Come in, and let us banquet royally + After this golden day of victory. Flourish. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE 1. + +Before Orleans + +Enter a FRENCH SERGEANT and two SENTINELS + + SERGEANT. Sirs, take your places and be vigilant. + If any noise or soldier you perceive + Near to the walls, by some apparent sign + Let us have knowledge at the court of guard. + FIRST SENTINEL. Sergeant, you shall. [Exit SERGEANT] + Thus are poor servitors, + When others sleep upon their quiet beds, + Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain, and cold. + + Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and forces, + with scaling-ladders; their drums beating a dead + march + + TALBOT. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, + By whose approach the regions of Artois, + Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to us, + This happy night the Frenchmen are secure, + Having all day carous'd and banqueted; + Embrace we then this opportunity, + As fitting best to quittance their deceit, + Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery. + BEDFORD. Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame, + Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, + To join with witches and the help of hell! + BURGUNDY. Traitors have never other company. + But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure? + TALBOT. A maid, they say. + BEDFORD. A maid! and be so martial! + BURGUNDY. Pray God she prove not masculine ere long, + If underneath the standard of the French + She carry armour as she hath begun. + TALBOT. Well, let them practise and converse with spirits: + God is our fortress, in whose conquering name + Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. + BEDFORD. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee. + TALBOT. Not all together; better far, I guess, + That we do make our entrance several ways; + That if it chance the one of us do fail + The other yet may rise against their force. + BEDFORD. Agreed; I'll to yond corner. + BURGUNDY. And I to this. + TALBOT. And here will Talbot mount or make his grave. + Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right + Of English Henry, shall this night appear + How much in duty I am bound to both. + [The English scale the walls and cry 'Saint George! + a Talbot!'] + SENTINEL. Arm! arm! The enemy doth make assault. + + The French leap o'er the walls in their shirts. + Enter, several ways, BASTARD, ALENCON, REIGNIER, + half ready and half unready + + ALENCON. How now, my lords? What, all unready so? + BASTARD. Unready! Ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well. + REIGNIER. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds, + Hearing alarums at our chamber doors. + ALENCON. Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms + Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise + More venturous or desperate than this. + BASTARD. I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell. + REIGNIER. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him + ALENCON. Here cometh Charles; I marvel how he sped. + + Enter CHARLES and LA PUCELLE + + BASTARD. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard. + CHARLES. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame? + Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, + Make us partakers of a little gain + That now our loss might be ten times so much? + PUCELLE. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend? + At all times will you have my power alike? + Sleeping or waking, must I still prevail + Or will you blame and lay the fault on me? + Improvident soldiers! Had your watch been good + This sudden mischief never could have fall'n. + CHARLES. Duke of Alencon, this was your default + That, being captain of the watch to-night, + Did look no better to that weighty charge. + ALENCON. Had all your quarters been as safely kept + As that whereof I had the government, + We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd. + BASTARD. Mine was secure. + REIGNIER. And so was mine, my lord. + CHARLES. And, for myself, most part of all this night, + Within her quarter and mine own precinct + I was employ'd in passing to and fro + About relieving of the sentinels. + Then how or which way should they first break in? + PUCELLE. Question, my lords, no further of the case, + How or which way; 'tis sure they found some place + But weakly guarded, where the breach was made. + And now there rests no other shift but this + To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd, + And lay new platforms to endamage them. + + Alarum. Enter an ENGLISH SOLDIER, crying + 'A Talbot! A Talbot!' They fly, leaving their + clothes behind + + SOLDIER. I'll be so bold to take what they have left. + The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword; + For I have loaden me with many spoils, + Using no other weapon but his name. Exit + + + + + SCENE 2. + + ORLEANS. Within the town + + Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a CAPTAIN, + and others + + BEDFORD. The day begins to break, and night is fled + Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. + Here sound retreat and cease our hot pursuit. + [Retreat sounded] + TALBOT. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury + And here advance it in the market-place, + The middle centre of this cursed town. + Now have I paid my vow unto his soul; + For every drop of blood was drawn from him + There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night. + And that hereafter ages may behold + What ruin happened in revenge of him, + Within their chiefest temple I'll erect + A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd; + Upon the which, that every one may read, + Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans, + The treacherous manner of his mournful death, + And what a terror he had been to France. + But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, + I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace, + His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc, + Nor any of his false confederates. + BEDFORD. 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began, + Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds, + They did amongst the troops of armed men + Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field. + BURGUNDY. Myself, as far as I could well discern + For smoke and dusky vapours of the night, + Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin and his trull, + When arm in arm they both came swiftly running, + Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves + That could not live asunder day or night. + After that things are set in order here, + We'll follow them with all the power we have. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. All hail, my lords! Which of this princely train + Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts + So much applauded through the realm of France? + TALBOT. Here is the Talbot; who would speak with him? + MESSENGER. The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne, + With modesty admiring thy renown, + By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe + To visit her poor castle where she lies, + That she may boast she hath beheld the man + Whose glory fills the world with loud report. + BURGUNDY. Is it even so? Nay, then I see our wars + Will turn into a peaceful comic sport, + When ladies crave to be encount'red with. + You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit. + TALBOT. Ne'er trust me then; for when a world of men + Could not prevail with all their oratory, + Yet hath a woman's kindness overrul'd; + And therefore tell her I return great thanks + And in submission will attend on her. + Will not your honours bear me company? + BEDFORD. No, truly; 'tis more than manners will; + And I have heard it said unbidden guests + Are often welcomest when they are gone. + TALBOT. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy, + I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. + Come hither, Captain. [Whispers] You perceive my mind? + CAPTAIN. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 3. + + AUVERGNE. The Castle + + Enter the COUNTESS and her PORTER + + COUNTESS. Porter, remember what I gave in charge; + And when you have done so, bring the keys to me. + PORTER. Madam, I will. + COUNTESS. The plot is laid; if all things fall out right, + I shall as famous be by this exploit. + As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death. + Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight, + And his achievements of no less account. + Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears + To give their censure of these rare reports. + + Enter MESSENGER and TALBOT. + + MESSENGER. Madam, according as your ladyship desir'd, + By message crav'd, so is Lord Talbot come. + COUNTESS. And he is welcome. What! is this the man? + MESSENGER. Madam, it is. + COUNTESS. Is this the scourge of France? + Is this Talbot, so much fear'd abroad + That with his name the mothers still their babes? + I see report is fabulous and false. + I thought I should have seen some Hercules, + A second Hector, for his grim aspect + And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. + Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf! + It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp + Should strike such terror to his enemies. + TALBOT. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you; + But since your ladyship is not at leisure, + I'll sort some other time to visit you. [Going] + COUNTESS. What means he now? Go ask him whither he + goes. + MESSENGER. Stay, my Lord Talbot; for my lady craves + To know the cause of your abrupt departure. + TALBOT. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief, + I go to certify her Talbot's here. + + Re-enter PORTER With keys + + COUNTESS. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. + TALBOT. Prisoner! To whom? + COUNTESS. To me, blood-thirsty lord + And for that cause I train'd thee to my house. + Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, + For in my gallery thy picture hangs; + But now the substance shall endure the like + And I will chain these legs and arms of thine + That hast by tyranny these many years + Wasted our country, slain our citizens, + And sent our sons and husbands captivate. + TALBOT. Ha, ha, ha! + COUNTESS. Laughest thou, wretch? Thy mirth shall turn to + moan. + TALBOT. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond + To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow + Whereon to practise your severity. + COUNTESS. Why, art not thou the man? + TALBOT. I am indeed. + COUNTESS. Then have I substance too. + TALBOT. No, no, I am but shadow of myself. + You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here; + For what you see is but the smallest part + And least proportion of humanity. + I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, + It is of such a spacious lofty pitch + Your roof were not sufficient to contain 't. + COUNTESS. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce; + He will be here, and yet he is not here. + How can these contrarieties agree? + TALBOT. That will I show you presently. + + Winds his horn; drums strike up; + a peal of ordnance. Enter soldiers + + How say you, madam? Are you now persuaded + That Talbot is but shadow of himself? + These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength, + With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, + Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns, + And in a moment makes them desolate. + COUNTESS. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse. + I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited, + And more than may be gathered by thy shape. + Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath, + For I am sorry that with reverence + I did not entertain thee as thou art. + TALBOT. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconster + The mind of Talbot as you did mistake + The outward composition of his body. + What you have done hath not offended me. + Nor other satisfaction do I crave + But only, with your patience, that we may + Taste of your wine and see what cates you have, + For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well. + COUNTESS. With all my heart, and think me honoured + To feast so great a warrior in my house. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 4. + + London. The Temple garden + + Enter the EARLS OF SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK; + RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and another LAWYER + + PLANTAGENET. Great lords and gentlemen, what means this + silence? + Dare no man answer in a case of truth? + SUFFOLK. Within the Temple Hall we were too loud; + The garden here is more convenient. + PLANTAGENET. Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth; + Or else was wrangling Somerset in th' error? + SUFFOLK. Faith, I have been a truant in the law + And never yet could frame my will to it; + And therefore frame the law unto my will. + SOMERSET. Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us. + WARWICK. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch; + Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth; + Between two blades, which bears the better temper; + Between two horses, which doth bear him best; + Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye + I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgment; + But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, + Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. + PLANTAGENET. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance: + The truth appears so naked on my side + That any purblind eye may find it out. + SOMERSET. And on my side it is so well apparell'd, + So clear, so shining, and so evident, + That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. + PLANTAGENET. Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak, + In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts. + Let him that is a true-born gentleman + And stands upon the honour of his birth, + If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, + From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. + SOMERSET. Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer, + But dare maintain the party of the truth, + Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. + WARWICK. I love no colours; and, without all colour + Of base insinuating flattery, + I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. + SUFFOLK. I pluck this red rose with young Somerset, + And say withal I think he held the right. + VERNON. Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more + Till you conclude that he upon whose side + The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree + Shall yield the other in the right opinion. + SOMERSET. Good Master Vernon, it is well objected; + If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence. + PLANTAGENET. And I. + VERNON. Then, for the truth and plainness of the case, + I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, + Giving my verdict on the white rose side. + SOMERSET. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off, + Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red, + And fall on my side so, against your will. + VERNON. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, + Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt + And keep me on the side where still I am. + SOMERSET. Well, well, come on; who else? + LAWYER. [To Somerset] Unless my study and my books be + false, + The argument you held was wrong in you; + In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too. + PLANTAGENET. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? + SOMERSET. Here in my scabbard, meditating that + Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red. + PLANTAGENET. Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our + roses; + For pale they look with fear, as witnessing + The truth on our side. + SOMERSET. No, Plantagenet, + 'Tis not for fear but anger that thy cheeks + Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses, + And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. + PLANTAGENET. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset? + SOMERSET. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet? + PLANTAGENET. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth; + Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. + SOMERSET. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses, + That shall maintain what I have said is true, + Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. + PLANTAGENET. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, + I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. + SUFFOLK. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. + PLANTAGENET. Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and + thee. + SUFFOLK. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. + SOMERSET. Away, away, good William de la Pole! + We grace the yeoman by conversing with him. + WARWICK. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset; + His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence, + Third son to the third Edward, King of England. + Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root? + PLANTAGENET. He bears him on the place's privilege, + Or durst not for his craven heart say thus. + SOMERSET. By Him that made me, I'll maintain my words + On any plot of ground in Christendom. + Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge, + For treason executed in our late king's days? + And by his treason stand'st not thou attainted, + Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? + His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood; + And till thou be restor'd thou art a yeoman. + PLANTAGENET. My father was attached, not attainted; + Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor; + And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset, + Were growing time once ripened to my will. + For your partaker Pole, and you yourself, + I'll note you in my book of memory + To scourge you for this apprehension. + Look to it well, and say you are well warn'd. + SOMERSET. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still; + And know us by these colours for thy foes + For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear. + PLANTAGENET. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, + As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, + Will I for ever, and my faction, wear, + Until it wither with me to my grave, + Or flourish to the height of my degree. + SUFFOLK. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition! + And so farewell until I meet thee next. Exit + SOMERSET. Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious + Richard. Exit + PLANTAGENET. How I am brav'd, and must perforce endure + it! + WARWICK. This blot that they object against your house + Shall be wip'd out in the next Parliament, + Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester; + And if thou be not then created York, + I will not live to be accounted Warwick. + Meantime, in signal of my love to thee, + Against proud Somerset and William Pole, + Will I upon thy party wear this rose; + And here I prophesy: this brawl to-day, + Grown to this faction in the Temple Garden, + Shall send between the Red Rose and the White + A thousand souls to death and deadly night. + PLANTAGENET. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you + That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. + VERNON. In your behalf still will I wear the same. + LAWYER. And so will I. + PLANTAGENET. Thanks, gentle sir. + Come, let us four to dinner. I dare say + This quarrel will drink blood another day. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 5. + + The Tower of London + + Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair, and GAOLERS + + MORTIMER. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, + Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. + Even like a man new haled from the rack, + So fare my limbs with long imprisonment; + And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death, + Nestor-like aged in an age of care, + Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. + These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, + Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent; + Weak shoulders, overborne with burdening grief, + And pithless arms, like to a withered vine + That droops his sapless branches to the ground. + Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb, + Unable to support this lump of clay, + Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, + As witting I no other comfort have. + But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? + FIRST KEEPER. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come. + We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber; + And answer was return'd that he will come. + MORTIMER. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied. + Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine. + Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, + Before whose glory I was great in arms, + This loathsome sequestration have I had; + And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd, + Depriv'd of honour and inheritance. + But now the arbitrator of despairs, + Just Death, kind umpire of men's miseries, + With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence. + I would his troubles likewise were expir'd, + That so he might recover what was lost. + + Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET + + FIRST KEEPER. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. + MORTIMER. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come? + PLANTAGENET. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd, + Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes. + MORTIMER. Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck + And in his bosom spend my latter gasp. + O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks, + That I may kindly give one fainting kiss. + And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock, + Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd? + PLANTAGENET. First, lean thine aged back against mine arm; + And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease. + This day, in argument upon a case, + Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me; + Among which terms he us'd his lavish tongue + And did upbraid me with my father's death; + Which obloquy set bars before my tongue, + Else with the like I had requited him. + Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake, + In honour of a true Plantagenet, + And for alliance sake, declare the cause + My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head. + MORTIMER. That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me + And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring youth + Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, + Was cursed instrument of his decease. + PLANTAGENET. Discover more at large what cause that was, + For I am ignorant and cannot guess. + MORTIMER. I will, if that my fading breath permit + And death approach not ere my tale be done. + Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king, + Depos'd his nephew Richard, Edward's son, + The first-begotten and the lawful heir + Of Edward king, the third of that descent; + During whose reign the Percies of the north, + Finding his usurpation most unjust, + Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne. + The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this + Was, for that-young Richard thus remov'd, + Leaving no heir begotten of his body- + I was the next by birth and parentage; + For by my mother I derived am + From Lionel Duke of Clarence, third son + To King Edward the Third; whereas he + From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, + Being but fourth of that heroic line. + But mark: as in this haughty great attempt + They laboured to plant the rightful heir, + I lost my liberty, and they their lives. + Long after this, when Henry the Fifth, + Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign, + Thy father, Earl of Cambridge, then deriv'd + From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York, + Marrying my sister, that thy mother was, + Again, in pity of my hard distress, + Levied an army, weening to redeem + And have install'd me in the diadem; + But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl, + And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, + In whom the title rested, were suppress'd. + PLANTAGENET. Of Which, my lord, your honour is the last. + MORTIMER. True; and thou seest that I no issue have, + And that my fainting words do warrant death. + Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather; + But yet be wary in thy studious care. + PLANTAGENET. Thy grave admonishments prevail with me. + But yet methinks my father's execution + Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. + MORTIMER. With silence, nephew, be thou politic; + Strong fixed is the house of Lancaster + And like a mountain not to be remov'd. + But now thy uncle is removing hence, + As princes do their courts when they are cloy'd + With long continuance in a settled place. + PLANTAGENET. O uncle, would some part of my young years + Might but redeem the passage of your age! + MORTIMER. Thou dost then wrong me, as that slaughterer + doth + Which giveth many wounds when one will kill. + Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good; + Only give order for my funeral. + And so, farewell; and fair be all thy hopes, + And prosperous be thy life in peace and war! [Dies] + PLANTAGENET. And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul! + In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, + And like a hermit overpass'd thy days. + Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast; + And what I do imagine, let that rest. + Keepers, convey him hence; and I myself + Will see his burial better than his life. + Exeunt GAOLERS, hearing out the body of MORTIMER + Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, + Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort; + And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, + Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house, + I doubt not but with honour to redress; + And therefore haste I to the Parliament, + Either to be restored to my blood, + Or make my ill th' advantage of my good. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE 1. + +London. The Parliament House + +Flourish. Enter the KING, EXETER, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; +the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others. +GLOUCESTER offers to put up a bill; WINCHESTER snatches it, and tears it + + WINCHESTER. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines, + With written pamphlets studiously devis'd? + Humphrey of Gloucester, if thou canst accuse + Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge, + Do it without invention, suddenly; + I with sudden and extemporal speech + Purpose to answer what thou canst object. + GLOUCESTER. Presumptuous priest, this place commands my + patience, + Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me. + Think not, although in writing I preferr'd + The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, + That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able + Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen. + No, prelate; such is thy audacious wickedness, + Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks, + As very infants prattle of thy pride. + Thou art a most pernicious usurer; + Froward by nature, enemy to peace; + Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems + A man of thy profession and degree; + And for thy treachery, what's more manifest + In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life, + As well at London Bridge as at the Tower? + Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted, + The King, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt + From envious malice of thy swelling heart. + WINCHESTER. Gloucester, I do defy thee. Lords, vouchsafe + To give me hearing what I shall reply. + If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse, + As he will have me, how am I so poor? + Or how haps it I seek not to advance + Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling? + And for dissension, who preferreth peace + More than I do, except I be provok'd? + No, my good lords, it is not that offends; + It is not that that incens'd hath incens'd the Duke: + It is because no one should sway but he; + No one but he should be about the King; + And that engenders thunder in his breast + And makes him roar these accusations forth. + But he shall know I am as good + GLOUCESTER. As good! + Thou bastard of my grandfather! + WINCHESTER. Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray, + But one imperious in another's throne? + GLOUCESTER. Am I not Protector, saucy priest? + WINCHESTER. And am not I a prelate of the church? + GLOUCESTER. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, + And useth it to patronage his theft. + WINCHESTER. Unreverent Gloucester! + GLOUCESTER. Thou art reverend + Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. + WINCHESTER. Rome shall remedy this. + WARWICK. Roam thither then. + SOMERSET. My lord, it were your duty to forbear. + WARWICK. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne. + SOMERSET. Methinks my lord should be religious, + And know the office that belongs to such. + WARWICK. Methinks his lordship should be humbler; + It fitteth not a prelate so to plead. + SOMERSET. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so near. + WARWICK. State holy or unhallow'd, what of that? + Is not his Grace Protector to the King? + PLANTAGENET. [Aside] Plantagenet, I see, must hold his + tongue, + Lest it be said 'Speak, sirrah, when you should; + Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?' + Else would I have a fling at Winchester. + KING HENRY. Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester, + The special watchmen of our English weal, + I would prevail, if prayers might prevail + To join your hearts in love and amity. + O, what a scandal is it to our crown + That two such noble peers as ye should jar! + Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell + Civil dissension is a viperous worm + That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth. + [A noise within: 'Down with the tawny coats!'] + What tumult's this? + WARWICK. An uproar, I dare warrant, + Begun through malice of the Bishop's men. + [A noise again: 'Stones! Stones!'] + + Enter the MAYOR OF LONDON, attended + + MAYOR. O, my good lords, and virtuous Henry, + Pity the city of London, pity us! + The Bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men, + Forbidden late to carry any weapon, + Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones + And, banding themselves in contrary parts, + Do pelt so fast at one another's pate + That many have their giddy brains knock'd out. + Our windows are broke down in every street, + And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops. + + Enter in skirmish, the retainers of GLOUCESTER and + WINCHESTER, with bloody pates + + KING HENRY. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, + To hold your slaught'ring hands and keep the peace. + Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife. + FIRST SERVING-MAN. Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we'll + fall to it with our teeth. + SECOND SERVING-MAN. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. + [Skirmish again] + GLOUCESTER. You of my household, leave this peevish broil, + And set this unaccustom'd fight aside. + THIRD SERVING-MAN. My lord, we know your Grace to be a + man + Just and upright, and for your royal birth + Inferior to none but to his Majesty; + And ere that we will suffer such a prince, + So kind a father of the commonweal, + To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate, + We and our wives and children all will fight + And have our bodies slaught'red by thy foes. + FIRST SERVING-MAN. Ay, and the very parings of our nails + Shall pitch a field when we are dead. [Begin again] + GLOUCESTER. Stay, stay, I say! + And if you love me, as you say you do, + Let me persuade you to forbear awhile. + KING HENRY. O, how this discord doth afflict my soul! + Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold + My sighs and tears and will not once relent? + Who should be pitiful, if you be not? + Or who should study to prefer a peace, + If holy churchmen take delight in broils? + WARWICK. Yield, my Lord Protector; yield, Winchester; + Except you mean with obstinate repulse + To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm. + You see what mischief, and what murder too, + Hath been enacted through your enmity; + Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood. + WINCHESTER. He shall submit, or I will never yield. + GLOUCESTER. Compassion on the King commands me stoop, + Or I would see his heart out ere the priest + Should ever get that privilege of me. + WARWICK. Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the Duke + Hath banish'd moody discontented fury, + As by his smoothed brows it doth appear; + Why look you still so stem and tragical? + GLOUCESTER. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand. + KING HENRY. Fie, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you preach + That malice was a great and grievous sin; + And will not you maintain the thing you teach, + But prove a chief offender in the same? + WARWICK. Sweet King! The Bishop hath a kindly gird. + For shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent; + What, shall a child instruct you what to do? + WINCHESTER. Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee; + Love for thy love and hand for hand I give. + GLOUCESTER [Aside] Ay, but, I fear me, with a hollow + heart. + See here, my friends and loving countrymen: + This token serveth for a flag of truce + Betwixt ourselves and all our followers. + So help me God, as I dissemble not! + WINCHESTER [Aside] So help me God, as I intend it not! + KING HENRY. O loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester, + How joyful am I made by this contract! + Away, my masters! trouble us no more; + But join in friendship, as your lords have done. + FIRST SERVING-MAN. Content: I'll to the surgeon's. + SECOND SERVING-MAN. And so will I. + THIRD SERVING-MAN. And I will see what physic the tavern + affords. Exeunt servants, MAYOR, &C. + WARWICK. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign; + Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet + We do exhibit to your Majesty. + GLOUCESTER. Well urg'd, my Lord of Warwick; for, sweet + prince, + An if your Grace mark every circumstance, + You have great reason to do Richard right; + Especially for those occasions + At Eltham Place I told your Majesty. + KING HENRY. And those occasions, uncle, were of force; + Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is + That Richard be restored to his blood. + WARWICK. Let Richard be restored to his blood; + So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd. + WINCHESTER. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. + KING HENRY. If Richard will be true, not that alone + But all the whole inheritance I give + That doth belong unto the house of York, + From whence you spring by lineal descent. + PLANTAGENET. Thy humble servant vows obedience + And humble service till the point of death. + KING HENRY. Stoop then and set your knee against my foot; + And in reguerdon of that duty done + I girt thee with the valiant sword of York. + Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet, + And rise created princely Duke of York. + PLANTAGENET. And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall! + And as my duty springs, so perish they + That grudge one thought against your Majesty! + ALL. Welcome, high Prince, the mighty Duke of York! + SOMERSET. [Aside] Perish, base Prince, ignoble Duke of + York! + GLOUCESTER. Now will it best avail your Majesty + To cross the seas and to be crown'd in France: + The presence of a king engenders love + Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends, + As it disanimates his enemies. + KING HENRY. When Gloucester says the word, King Henry + goes; + For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. + GLOUCESTER. Your ships already are in readiness. + Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but EXETER + EXETER. Ay, we may march in England or in France, + Not seeing what is likely to ensue. + This late dissension grown betwixt the peers + Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love + And will at last break out into a flame; + As fest'red members rot but by degree + Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away, + So will this base and envious discord breed. + And now I fear that fatal prophecy. + Which in the time of Henry nam'd the Fifth + Was in the mouth of every sucking babe: + That Henry born at Monmouth should win all, + And Henry born at Windsor should lose all. + Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish + His days may finish ere that hapless time. Exit + + + + + SCENE 2. + + France. Before Rouen + + Enter LA PUCELLE disguis'd, with four soldiers dressed + like countrymen, with sacks upon their backs + + PUCELLE. These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen, + Through which our policy must make a breach. + Take heed, be wary how you place your words; + Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men + That come to gather money for their corn. + If we have entrance, as I hope we shall, + And that we find the slothful watch but weak, + I'll by a sign give notice to our friends, + That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them. + FIRST SOLDIER. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, + And we be lords and rulers over Rouen; + Therefore we'll knock. [Knocks] + WATCH. [Within] Qui est la? + PUCELLE. Paysans, pauvres gens de France + Poor market-folks that come to sell their corn. + WATCH. Enter, go in; the market-bell is rung. + PUCELLE. Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the + ground. + + [LA PUCELLE, &c., enter the town] + + Enter CHARLES, BASTARD, ALENCON, REIGNIER, and forces + + CHARLES. Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem! + And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen. + BASTARD. Here ent'red Pucelle and her practisants; + Now she is there, how will she specify + Here is the best and safest passage in? + ALENCON. By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower; + Which once discern'd shows that her meaning is + No way to that, for weakness, which she ent'red. + + Enter LA PUCELLE, on the top, thrusting out + a torch burning + + PUCELLE. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch + That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen, + But burning fatal to the Talbotites. Exit + BASTARD. See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend; + The burning torch in yonder turret stands. + CHARLES. Now shine it like a comet of revenge, + A prophet to the fall of all our foes! + ALENCON. Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends; + Enter, and cry 'The Dauphin!' presently, + And then do execution on the watch. Alarum. Exeunt + + An alarum. Enter TALBOT in an excursion + + TALBOT. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears, + If Talbot but survive thy treachery. + PUCELLE, that witch, that damned sorceress, + Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, + That hardly we escap'd the pride of France. Exit + + An alarum; excursions. BEDFORD brought in sick in + a chair. Enter TALBOT and BURGUNDY without; + within, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, BASTARD, ALENCON, + and REIGNIER, on the walls + + PUCELLE. Good morrow, gallants! Want ye corn for bread? + I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast + Before he'll buy again at such a rate. + 'Twas full of darnel-do you like the taste? + BURGUNDY. Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtezan. + I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own, + And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. + CHARLES. Your Grace may starve, perhaps, before that time. + BEDFORD. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason! + PUCELLE. What you do, good grey beard? Break a + lance, + And run a tilt at death within a chair? + TALBOT. Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite, + Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours, + Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age + And twit with cowardice a man half dead? + Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, + Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. + PUCELLE. Are ye so hot, sir? Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace; + If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. + [The English party whisper together in council] + God speed the parliament! Who shall be the Speaker? + TALBOT. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field? + PUCELLE. Belike your lordship takes us then for fools, + To try if that our own be ours or no. + TALBOT. I speak not to that railing Hecate, + But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest. + Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? + ALENCON. Signior, no. + TALBOT. Signior, hang! Base muleteers of France! + Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls, + And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. + PUCELLE. Away, captains! Let's get us from the walls; + For Talbot means no goodness by his looks. + God b'uy, my lord; we came but to tell you + That we are here. Exeunt from the walls + TALBOT. And there will we be too, ere it be long, + Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame! + Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, + Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France, + Either to get the town again or die; + And I, as sure as English Henry lives + And as his father here was conqueror, + As sure as in this late betrayed town + Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried + So sure I swear to get the town or die. + BURGUNDY. My vows are equal partners with thy vows. + TALBOT. But ere we go, regard this dying prince, + The valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord, + We will bestow you in some better place, + Fitter for sickness and for crazy age. + BEDFORD. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me; + Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen, + And will be partner of your weal or woe. + BURGUNDY. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you. + BEDFORD. Not to be gone from hence; for once I read + That stout Pendragon in his litter sick + Came to the field, and vanquished his foes. + Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts, + Because I ever found them as myself. + TALBOT. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast! + Then be it so. Heavens keep old Bedford safe! + And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, + But gather we our forces out of hand + And set upon our boasting enemy. + Exeunt against the town all but BEDFORD and attendants + + An alarum; excursions. Enter SIR JOHN FASTOLFE, + and a CAPTAIN + + CAPTAIN. Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such haste? + FASTOLFE. Whither away? To save myself by flight: + We are like to have the overthrow again. + CAPTAIN. What! Will you and leave Lord Talbot? + FASTOLFE. Ay, + All the Talbots in the world, to save my life. Exit + CAPTAIN. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee! + Exit into the town + + Retreat; excursions. LA PUCELLE, ALENCON, + and CHARLES fly + + BEDFORD. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please, + For I have seen our enemies' overthrow. + What is the trust or strength of foolish man? + They that of late were daring with their scoffs + Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. + [BEDFORD dies and is carried in by two in his chair] + + An alarum. Re-enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and the rest + + TALBOT. Lost and recovered in a day again! + This is a double honour, Burgundy. + Yet heavens have glory for this victory! + BURGUNDY. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy + Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects + Thy noble deeds as valour's monuments. + TALBOT. Thanks, gentle Duke. But where is Pucelle now? + I think her old familiar is asleep. + Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks? + What, all amort? Rouen hangs her head for grief + That such a valiant company are fled. + Now will we take some order in the town, + Placing therein some expert officers; + And then depart to Paris to the King, + For there young Henry with his nobles lie. + BURGUNDY. What Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy. + TALBOT. But yet, before we go, let's not forget + The noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd, + But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen. + A braver soldier never couched lance, + A gentler heart did never sway in court; + But kings and mightiest potentates must die, + For that's the end of human misery. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 3. + + The plains near Rouen + + Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD, ALENCON, LA PUCELLE, + and forces + + PUCELLE. Dismay not, Princes, at this accident, + Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered. + Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, + For things that are not to be remedied. + Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while + And like a peacock sweep along his tail; + We'll pull his plumes and take away his train, + If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd. + CHARLES. We have guided by thee hitherto, + And of thy cunning had no diffidence; + One sudden foil shall never breed distrust + BASTARD. Search out thy wit for secret policies, + And we will make thee famous through the world. + ALENCON. We'll set thy statue in some holy place, + And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint. + Employ thee, then, sweet virgin, for our good. + PUCELLE. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: + By fair persuasions, mix'd with sug'red words, + We will entice the Duke of Burgundy + To leave the Talbot and to follow us. + CHARLES. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, + France were no place for Henry's warriors; + Nor should that nation boast it so with us, + But be extirped from our provinces. + ALENCON. For ever should they be expuls'd from France, + And not have tide of an earldom here. + PUCELLE. Your honours shall perceive how I will work + To bring this matter to the wished end. + [Drum sounds afar off] + Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive + Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. + + Here sound an English march. Enter, and pass over + at a distance, TALBOT and his forces + + There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, + And all the troops of English after him. + + French march. Enter the DUKE OF BURGUNDY and + his forces + + Now in the rearward comes the Duke and his. + Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. + Summon a parley; we will talk with him. + [Trumpets sound a parley] + CHARLES. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy! + BURGUNDY. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? + PUCELLE. The princely Charles of France, thy countryman. + BURGUNDY. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching + hence. + CHARLES. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words. + PUCELLE. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! + Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee. + BURGUNDY. Speak on; but be not over-tedious. + PUCELLE. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, + And see the cities and the towns defac'd + By wasting ruin of the cruel foe; + As looks the mother on her lowly babe + When death doth close his tender dying eyes, + See, see the pining malady of France; + Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, + Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast. + O, turn thy edged sword another way; + Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help! + One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom + Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore. + Return thee therefore with a flood of tears, + And wash away thy country's stained spots. + BURGUNDY. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words, + Or nature makes me suddenly relent. + PUCELLE. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, + Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. + Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation + That will not trust thee but for profit's sake? + When Talbot hath set footing once in France, + And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill, + Who then but English Henry will be lord, + And thou be thrust out like a fugitive? + Call we to mind-and mark but this for proof: + Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe? + And was he not in England prisoner? + But when they heard he was thine enemy + They set him free without his ransom paid, + In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. + See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen, + And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen. + Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord; + Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms. + BURGUNDY. I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers + Have batt'red me like roaring cannon-shot + And made me almost yield upon my knees. + Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen + And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace. + My forces and my power of men are yours; + So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee. + PUCELLE. Done like a Frenchman- [Aside] turn and turn + again. + CHARLES. Welcome, brave Duke! Thy friendship makes us + fresh. + BASTARD. And doth beget new courage in our breasts. + ALENCON. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, + And doth deserve a coronet of gold. + CHARLES. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers, + And seek how we may prejudice the foe. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 4. + + Paris. The palace + + Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, WINCHESTER, YORK, + SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK, EXETER, + VERNON, BASSET, and others. To them, with + his soldiers, TALBOT + + TALBOT. My gracious Prince, and honourable peers, + Hearing of your arrival in this realm, + I have awhile given truce unto my wars + To do my duty to my sovereign; + In sign whereof, this arm that hath reclaim'd + To your obedience fifty fortresses, + Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength, + Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem, + Lets fall his sword before your Highness' feet, + And with submissive loyalty of heart + Ascribes the glory of his conquest got + First to my God and next unto your Grace. [Kneels] + KING HENRY. Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester, + That hath so long been resident in France? + GLOUCESTER. Yes, if it please your Majesty, my liege. + KING HENRY. Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord! + When I was young, as yet I am not old, + I do remember how my father said + A stouter champion never handled sword. + Long since we were resolved of your truth, + Your faithful service, and your toil in war; + Yet never have you tasted our reward, + Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks, + Because till now we never saw your face. + Therefore stand up; and for these good deserts + We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury; + And in our coronation take your place. + Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but VERNON and BASSET + VERNON. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea, + Disgracing of these colours that I wear + In honour of my noble Lord of York + Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st? + BASSET. Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage + The envious barking of your saucy tongue + Against my lord the Duke of Somerset. + VERNON. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is. + BASSET. Why, what is he? As good a man as York! + VERNON. Hark ye: not so. In witness, take ye that. + [Strikes him] + BASSET. Villain, thou knowest the law of arms is such + That whoso draws a sword 'tis present death, + Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood. + But I'll unto his Majesty and crave + I may have liberty to venge this wrong; + When thou shalt see I'll meet thee to thy cost. + VERNON. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you; + And, after, meet you sooner than you would. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 1. + +Park. The palace + +Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK, +TALBOT, EXETER, the GOVERNOR OF PARIS, and others + + GLOUCESTER. Lord Bishop, set the crown upon his head. + WINCHESTER. God save King Henry, of that name the Sixth! + GLOUCESTER. Now, Governor of Paris, take your oath + [GOVERNOR kneels] + That you elect no other king but him, + Esteem none friends but such as are his friends, + And none your foes but such as shall pretend + Malicious practices against his state. + This shall ye do, so help you righteous God! + Exeunt GOVERNOR and his train + + Enter SIR JOHN FASTOLFE + + FASTOLFE. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais, + To haste unto your coronation, + A letter was deliver'd to my hands, + Writ to your Grace from th' Duke of Burgundy. + TALBOT. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee! + I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next + To tear the Garter from thy craven's leg, [Plucking it off] + Which I have done, because unworthily + Thou wast installed in that high degree. + Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest: + This dastard, at the battle of Patay, + When but in all I was six thousand strong, + And that the French were almost ten to one, + Before we met or that a stroke was given, + Like to a trusty squire did run away; + In which assault we lost twelve hundred men; + Myself and divers gentlemen beside + Were there surpris'd and taken prisoners. + Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss, + Or whether that such cowards ought to wear + This ornament of knighthood-yea or no. + GLOUCESTER. To say the truth, this fact was infamous + And ill beseeming any common man, + Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader. + TALBOT. When first this order was ordain'd, my lords, + Knights of the Garter were of noble birth, + Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage, + Such as were grown to credit by the wars; + Not fearing death nor shrinking for distress, + But always resolute in most extremes. + He then that is not furnish'd in this sort + Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, + Profaning this most honourable order, + And should, if I were worthy to be judge, + Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain + That doth presume to boast of gentle blood. + KING HENRY. Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear'st thy + doom. + Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight; + Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death. + Exit FASTOLFE + And now, my Lord Protector, view the letter + Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy. + GLOUCESTER. [Viewing the superscription] What means his + Grace, that he hath chang'd his style? + No more but plain and bluntly 'To the King!' + Hath he forgot he is his sovereign? + Or doth this churlish superscription + Pretend some alteration in good-will? + What's here? [Reads] 'I have, upon especial cause, + Mov'd with compassion of my country's wreck, + Together with the pitiful complaints + Of such as your oppression feeds upon, + Forsaken your pernicious faction, + And join'd with Charles, the rightful King of France.' + O monstrous treachery! Can this be so + That in alliance, amity, and oaths, + There should be found such false dissembling guile? + KING HENRY. What! Doth my uncle Burgundy revolt? + GLOUCESTER. He doth, my lord, and is become your foe. + KING HENRY. Is that the worst this letter doth contain? + GLOUCESTER. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. + KING HENRY. Why then Lord Talbot there shall talk with + him + And give him chastisement for this abuse. + How say you, my lord, are you not content? + TALBOT. Content, my liege! Yes; but that I am prevented, + I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd. + KING HENRY. Then gather strength and march unto him + straight; + Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason. + And what offence it is to flout his friends. + TALBOT. I go, my lord, in heart desiring still + You may behold confusion of your foes. Exit + + Enter VERNON and BASSET + + VERNON. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign. + BASSET. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too. + YORK. This is my servant: hear him, noble Prince. + SOMERSET. And this is mine: sweet Henry, favour him. + KING HENRY. Be patient, lords, and give them leave to speak. + Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim, + And wherefore crave you combat, or with whom? + VERNON. With him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong. + BASSET. And I with him; for he hath done me wrong. + KING HENRY. What is that wrong whereof you both + complain? First let me know, and then I'll answer you. + BASSET. Crossing the sea from England into France, + This fellow here, with envious carping tongue, + Upbraided me about the rose I wear, + Saying the sanguine colour of the leaves + Did represent my master's blushing cheeks + When stubbornly he did repugn the truth + About a certain question in the law + Argu'd betwixt the Duke of York and him; + With other vile and ignominious terms + In confutation of which rude reproach + And in defence of my lord's worthiness, + I crave the benefit of law of arms. + VERNON. And that is my petition, noble lord; + For though he seem with forged quaint conceit + To set a gloss upon his bold intent, + Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him, + And he first took exceptions at this badge, + Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower + Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart. + YORK. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? + SOMERSET. Your private grudge, my Lord of York, will out, + Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. + KING HENRY. Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick + men, When for so slight and frivolous a cause + Such factious emulations shall arise! + Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, + Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. + YORK. Let this dissension first be tried by fight, + And then your Highness shall command a peace. + SOMERSET. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone; + Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. + YORK. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset. + VERNON. Nay, let it rest where it began at first. + BASSET. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord. + GLOUCESTER. Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife; + And perish ye, with your audacious prate! + Presumptuous vassals, are you not asham'd + With this immodest clamorous outrage + To trouble and disturb the King and us? + And you, my lords- methinks you do not well + To bear with their perverse objections, + Much less to take occasion from their mouths + To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves. + Let me persuade you take a better course. + EXETER. It grieves his Highness. Good my lords, be friends. + KING HENRY. Come hither, you that would be combatants: + Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour, + Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause. + And you, my lords, remember where we are: + In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation; + If they perceive dissension in our looks + And that within ourselves we disagree, + How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd + To wilful disobedience, and rebel! + Beside, what infamy will there arise + When foreign princes shall be certified + That for a toy, a thing of no regard, + King Henry's peers and chief nobility + Destroy'd themselves and lost the realm of France! + O, think upon the conquest of my father, + My tender years; and let us not forgo + That for a trifle that was bought with blood! + Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. + I see no reason, if I wear this rose, + [Putting on a red rose] + That any one should therefore be suspicious + I more incline to Somerset than York: + Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both. + As well they may upbraid me with my crown, + Because, forsooth, the King of Scots is crown'd. + But your discretions better can persuade + Than I am able to instruct or teach; + And, therefore, as we hither came in peace, + So let us still continue peace and love. + Cousin of York, we institute your Grace + To be our Regent in these parts of France. + And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite + Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot; + And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors, + Go cheerfully together and digest + Your angry choler on your enemies. + Ourself, my Lord Protector, and the rest, + After some respite will return to Calais; + From thence to England, where I hope ere long + To be presented by your victories + With Charles, Alencon, and that traitorous rout. + Flourish. Exeunt all but YORK, WARWICK, + EXETER, VERNON + WARWICK. My Lord of York, I promise you, the King + Prettily, methought, did play the orator. + YORK. And so he did; but yet I like it not, + In that he wears the badge of Somerset. + WARWICK. Tush, that was but his fancy; blame him not; + I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. + YORK. An if I wist he did-but let it rest; + Other affairs must now be managed. + Exeunt all but EXETER + EXETER. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice; + For had the passions of thy heart burst out, + I fear we should have seen decipher'd there + More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils, + Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd. + But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees + This jarring discord of nobility, + This shouldering of each other in the court, + This factious bandying of their favourites, + But that it doth presage some ill event. + 'Tis much when sceptres are in children's hands; + But more when envy breeds unkind division: + There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. Exit + + + + + SCENE 2. + + France. Before Bordeaux + + Enter TALBOT, with trump and drum + + TALBOT. Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter; + Summon their general unto the wall. + + Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, aloft, the + GENERAL OF THE FRENCH, and others + + English John Talbot, Captains, calls you forth, + Servant in arms to Harry King of England; + And thus he would open your city gates, + Be humble to us, call my sovereignvours + And do him homage as obedient subjects, + And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power; + But if you frown upon this proffer'd peace, + You tempt the fury of my three attendants, + Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire; + Who in a moment even with the earth + Shall lay your stately and air braving towers, + If you forsake the offer of their love. + GENERAL OF THE FRENCH. Thou ominous and fearful owl of + death, + Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge! + The period of thy tyranny approacheth. + On us thou canst not enter but by death; + For, I protest, we are well fortified, + And strong enough to issue out and fight. + If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed, + Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee. + On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd + To wall thee from the liberty of flight, + And no way canst thou turn thee for redress + But death doth front thee with apparent spoil + And pale destruction meets thee in the face. + Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament + To rive their dangerous artillery + Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. + Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man, + Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit! + This is the latest glory of thy praise + That I, thy enemy, due thee withal; + For ere the glass that now begins to run + Finish the process of his sandy hour, + These eyes that see thee now well coloured + Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead. + [Drum afar off] + Hark! hark! The Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, + Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul; + And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. Exit + TALBOT. He fables not; I hear the enemy. + Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings. + O, negligent and heedless discipline! + How are we park'd and bounded in a pale + A little herd of England's timorous deer, + Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs! + If we be English deer, be then in blood; + Not rascal-like to fall down with a pinch, + But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags, + Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel + And make the cowards stand aloof at bay. + Sell every man his life as dear as mine, + And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends. + God and Saint George, Talbot and England's right, + Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight! Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 3. + + Plains in Gascony + + Enter YORK, with trumpet and many soldiers. A + MESSENGER meets him + + YORK. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again + That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin? + MESSENGER. They are return'd, my lord, and give it out + That he is march'd to Bordeaux with his power + To fight with Talbot; as he march'd along, + By your espials were discovered + Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led, + Which join'd with him and made their march for + Bordeaux. + YORK. A plague upon that villain Somerset + That thus delays my promised supply + Of horsemen that were levied for this siege! + Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid, + And I am louted by a traitor villain + And cannot help the noble chevalier. + God comfort him in this necessity! + If he miscarry, farewell wars in France. + + Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY + + LUCY. Thou princely leader of our English strength, + Never so needful on the earth of France, + Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot, + Who now is girdled with a waist of iron + And hemm'd about with grim destruction. + To Bordeaux, warlike Duke! to Bordeaux, York! + Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour. + YORK. O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart + Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place! + So should we save a valiant gentleman + By forfeiting a traitor and a coward. + Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep + That thus we die while remiss traitors sleep. + LUCY. O, send some succour to the distress'd lord! + YORK. He dies; we lose; I break my warlike word. + We mourn: France smiles. We lose: they daily get- + All long of this vile traitor Somerset. + LUCY. Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul, + And on his son, young John, who two hours since + I met in travel toward his warlike father. + This seven years did not Talbot see his son; + And now they meet where both their lives are done. + YORK. Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have + To bid his young son welcome to his grave? + Away! vexation almost stops my breath, + That sund'red friends greet in the hour of death. + Lucy, farewell; no more my fortune can + But curse the cause I cannot aid the man. + Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away + Long all of Somerset and his delay. Exit with forces + LUCY. Thus, while the vulture of sedition + Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, + Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss + The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror, + That ever-living man of memory, + Henry the Fifth. Whiles they each other cross, + Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. Exit + + + + + SCENE 4. + + Other plains of Gascony + + Enter SOMERSET, With his forces; an OFFICER of + TALBOT'S with him + + SOMERSET. It is too late; I cannot send them now. + This expedition was by York and Talbot + Too rashly plotted; all our general force + Might with a sally of the very town + Be buckled with. The over daring Talbot + Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour + By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure. + York set him on to fight and die in shame. + That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name. + OFFICER. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me + Set from our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid. + + Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY + + SOMERSET. How now, Sir William! Whither were you sent? + LUCY. Whither, my lord! From bought and sold Lord + Talbot, + Who, ring'd about with bold adversity, + Cries out for noble York and Somerset + To beat assailing death from his weak legions; + And whiles the honourable captain there + Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs + And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue, + You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour, + Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. + Let not your private discord keep away + The levied succours that should lend him aid, + While he, renowned noble gentleman, + Yield up his life unto a world of odds. + Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy, + Alencon, Reignier, compass him about, + And Talbot perisheth by your default. + SOMERSET. York set him on; York should have sent him aid. + LUCY. And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims, + Swearing that you withhold his levied host, + Collected for this expedition. + SOMERSET. York lies; he might have sent and had the horse. + I owe him little duty and less love, + And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending. + LUCY. The fraud of England, not the force of France, + Hath now entrapp'd the noble minded Talbot. + Never to England shall he bear his life, + But dies betray'd to fortune by your strife. + SOMERSET. Come, go; I will dispatch the horsemen straight; + Within six hours they will be at his aid. + LUCY. Too late comes rescue; he is ta'en or slain, + For fly he could not if he would have fled; + And fly would Talbot never, though he might. + SOMERSET. If he be dead, brave Talbot, then, adieu! + LUCY. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you. Exeunt + + + SCENE 5. + + The English camp near Bordeaux + + Enter TALBOT and JOHN his son + + TALBOT. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee + To tutor thee in stratagems of war, + That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd + When sapless age and weak unable limbs + Should bring thy father to his drooping chair. + But, O malignant and ill-boding stars! + Now thou art come unto a feast of death, + A terrible and unavoided danger; + Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse, + And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape + By sudden flight. Come, dally not, be gone. + JOHN. Is my name Talbot, and am I your son? + And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother, + Dishonour not her honourable name, + To make a bastard and a slave of me! + The world will say he is not Talbot's blood + That basely fled when noble Talbot stood. + TALBOT. Fly to revenge my death, if I be slain. + JOHN. He that flies so will ne'er return again. + TALBOT. If we both stay, we both are sure to die. + JOHN. Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly. + Your loss is great, so your regard should be; + My worth unknown, no loss is known in me; + Upon my death the French can little boast; + In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. + Flight cannot stain the honour you have won; + But mine it will, that no exploit have done; + You fled for vantage, every one will swear; + But if I bow, they'll say it was for fear. + There is no hope that ever I will stay + If the first hour I shrink and run away. + Here, on my knee, I beg mortality, + Rather than life preserv'd with infamy. + TALBOT. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb? + JOHN. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb. + TALBOT. Upon my blessing I command thee go. + JOHN. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. + TALBOT. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee. + JOHN. No part of him but will be shame in me. + TALBOT. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it. + JOHN. Yes, your renowned name; shall flight abuse it? + TALBOT. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain. + JOHN. You cannot witness for me, being slain. + If death be so apparent, then both fly. + TALBOT. And leave my followers here to fight and die? + My age was never tainted with such shame. + JOHN. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame? + No more can I be severed from your side + Than can yourself yourself yourself in twain divide. + Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I; + For live I will not if my father die. + TALBOT. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son, + Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. + Come, side by side together live and die; + And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 6. + + A field of battle + + Alarum: excursions wherein JOHN TALBOT is hemm'd + about, and TALBOT rescues him + + TALBOT. Saint George and victory! Fight, soldiers, fight. + The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word + And left us to the rage of France his sword. + Where is John Talbot? Pause and take thy breath; + I gave thee life and rescu'd thee from death. + JOHN. O, twice my father, twice am I thy son! + The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done + Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate, + To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date. + TALBOT. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck + fire, + It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire + Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age, + Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage, + Beat down Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy, + And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee. + The ireful bastard Orleans, that drew blood + From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood + Of thy first fight, I soon encountered + And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed + Some of his bastard blood; and in disgrace + Bespoke him thus: 'Contaminated, base, + And misbegotten blood I spill of thine, + Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine + Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy.' + Here purposing the Bastard to destroy, + Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care; + Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare? + Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly, + Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry? + Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead: + The help of one stands me in little stead. + O, too much folly is it, well I wot, + To hazard all our lives in one small boat! + If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage, + To-morrow I shall die with mickle age. + By me they nothing gain an if I stay: + 'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day. + In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, + My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame. + All these and more we hazard by thy stay; + All these are sav'd if thou wilt fly away. + JOHN. The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart; + These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart. + On that advantage, bought with such a shame, + To save a paltry life and slay bright fame, + Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly, + The coward horse that bears me fall and die! + And like me to the peasant boys of France, + To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance! + Surely, by all the glory you have won, + An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son; + Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot; + If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot. + TALBOT. Then follow thou thy desp'rate sire of Crete, + Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet. + If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side; + And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 7. + + Another part of the field + + Alarum; excursions. Enter old TALBOT led by a SERVANT + + TALBOT. Where is my other life? Mine own is gone. + O, where's young Talbot? Where is valiant John? + Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity, + Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee. + When he perceiv'd me shrink and on my knee, + His bloody sword he brandish'd over me, + And like a hungry lion did commence + Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience; + But when my angry guardant stood alone, + Tend'ring my ruin and assail'd of none, + Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart + Suddenly made him from my side to start + Into the clust'ring battle of the French; + And in that sea of blood my boy did drench + His overmounting spirit; and there died, + My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. + + Enter soldiers, bearing the body of JOHN TALBOT + + SERVANT. O my dear lord, lo where your son is borne! + TALBOT. Thou antic Death, which laugh'st us here to scorn, + Anon, from thy insulting tyranny, + Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, + Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky, + In thy despite shall scape mortality. + O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured Death, + Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath! + Brave Death by speaking, whether he will or no; + Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe. + Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should say, + Had Death been French, then Death had died to-day. + Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms. + My spirit can no longer bear these harms. + Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have, + Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave. [Dies] + + Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BURGUNDY, BASTARD, + LA PUCELLE, and forces + + CHARLES. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in, + We should have found a bloody day of this. + BASTARD. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging wood, + Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood! + PUCELLE. Once I encount'red him, and thus I said: + 'Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid.' + But with a proud majestical high scorn + He answer'd thus: 'Young Talbot was not born + To be the pillage of a giglot wench.' + So, rushing in the bowels of the French, + He left me proudly, as unworthy fight. + BURGUNDY. Doubtless he would have made a noble knight. + See where he lies inhearsed in the arms + Of the most bloody nurser of his harms! + BASTARD. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder, + Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder. + CHARLES. O, no; forbear! For that which we have fled + During the life, let us not wrong it dead. + + Enter SIR WILLIAM Lucy, attended; a FRENCH + HERALD preceding + + LUCY. Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent, + To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day. + CHARLES. On what submissive message art thou sent? + LUCY. Submission, Dauphin! 'Tis a mere French word: + We English warriors wot not what it means. + I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en, + And to survey the bodies of the dead. + CHARLES. For prisoners ask'st thou? Hell our prison is. + But tell me whom thou seek'st. + LUCY. But where's the great Alcides of the field, + Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, + Created for his rare success in arms + Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence, + Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield, + Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of Alton, + Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield, + The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge, + Knight of the noble order of Saint George, + Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece, + Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth + Of all his wars within the realm of France? + PUCELLE. Here's a silly-stately style indeed! + The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath, + Writes not so tedious a style as this. + Him that thou magnifi'st with all these tides, + Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet. + LUCY. Is Talbot slain-the Frenchmen's only scourge, + Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis? + O, were mine eye-bans into bullets turn'd, + That I in rage might shoot them at your faces! + O that I could but can these dead to life! + It were enough to fright the realm of France. + Were but his picture left amongst you here, + It would amaze the proudest of you all. + Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence + And give them burial as beseems their worth. + PUCELLE. I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, + He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. + For God's sake, let him have them; to keep them here, + They would but stink, and putrefy the air. + CHARLES. Go, take their bodies hence. + LUCY. I'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall be + rear'd + A phoenix that shall make all France afeard. + CHARLES. So we be rid of them, do with them what thou + wilt. + And now to Paris in this conquering vein! + All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1. + +London. The palace + +Sennet. Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, and EXETER + + KING HENRY. Have you perus'd the letters from the Pope, + The Emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac? + GLOUCESTER. I have, my lord; and their intent is this: + They humbly sue unto your Excellence + To have a godly peace concluded of + Between the realms of England and of France. + KING HENRY. How doth your Grace affect their motion? + GLOUCESTER. Well, my good lord, and as the only means + To stop effusion of our Christian blood + And stablish quietness on every side. + KING HENRY. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought + It was both impious and unnatural + That such immanity and bloody strife + Should reign among professors of one faith. + GLOUCESTER. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect + And surer bind this knot of amity, + The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles, + A man of great authority in France, + Proffers his only daughter to your Grace + In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry. + KING HENRY. Marriage, uncle! Alas, my years are young + And fitter is my study and my books + Than wanton dalliance with a paramour. + Yet call th' ambassadors, and, as you please, + So let them have their answers every one. + I shall be well content with any choice + Tends to God's glory and my country's weal. + + Enter in Cardinal's habit + BEAUFORT, the PAPAL LEGATE, and two AMBASSADORS + + EXETER. What! Is my Lord of Winchester install'd + And call'd unto a cardinal's degree? + Then I perceive that will be verified + Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy: + 'If once he come to be a cardinal, + He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.' + KING HENRY. My Lords Ambassadors, your several suits + Have been consider'd and debated on. + Your purpose is both good and reasonable, + And therefore are we certainly resolv'd + To draw conditions of a friendly peace, + Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean + Shall be transported presently to France. + GLOUCESTER. And for the proffer of my lord your master, + I have inform'd his Highness so at large, + As, liking of the lady's virtuous gifts, + Her beauty, and the value of her dower, + He doth intend she shall be England's Queen. + KING HENRY. [To AMBASSADOR] In argument and proof of + which contract, + Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection. + And so, my Lord Protector, see them guarded + And safely brought to Dover; where inshipp'd, + Commit them to the fortune of the sea. + + Exeunt all but WINCHESTER and the LEGATE + WINCHESTER. Stay, my Lord Legate; you shall first receive + The sum of money which I promised + Should be delivered to his Holiness + For clothing me in these grave ornaments. + LEGATE. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure. + WINCHESTER. [Aside] Now Winchester will not submit, I + trow, + Or be inferior to the proudest peer. + Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive + That neither in birth or for authority + The Bishop will be overborne by thee. + I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee, + Or sack this country with a mutiny. Exeunt + + + SCENE 2. + + France. Plains in Anjou + + Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENCON, BASTARD, + REIGNIER, LA PUCELLE, and forces + + CHARLES. These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping + spirits: + 'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt + And turn again unto the warlike French. + ALENCON. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France, + And keep not back your powers in dalliance. + PUCELLE. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us; + Else ruin combat with their palaces! + + Enter a SCOUT + + SCOUT. Success unto our valiant general, + And happiness to his accomplices! + CHARLES. What tidings send our scouts? I prithee speak. + SCOUT. The English army, that divided was + Into two parties, is now conjoin'd in one, + And means to give you battle presently. + CHARLES. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is; + But we will presently provide for them. + BURGUNDY. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there. + Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. + PUCELLE. Of all base passions fear is most accurs'd. + Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine, + Let Henry fret and all the world repine. + CHARLES. Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate! + Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 3. + + Before Angiers + + Alarum, excursions. Enter LA PUCELLE + + PUCELLE. The Regent conquers and the Frenchmen fly. + Now help, ye charming spells and periapts; + And ye choice spirits that admonish me + And give me signs of future accidents; [Thunder] + You speedy helpers that are substitutes + Under the lordly monarch of the north, + Appear and aid me in this enterprise! + + Enter FIENDS + + This speedy and quick appearance argues proof + Of your accustom'd diligence to me. + Now, ye familiar spirits that are cull'd + Out of the powerful regions under earth, + Help me this once, that France may get the field. + [They walk and speak not] + O, hold me not with silence over-long! + Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, + I'll lop a member off and give it you + In earnest of a further benefit, + So you do condescend to help me now. + [They hang their heads] + No hope to have redress? My body shall + Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit. + [They shake their heads] + Cannot my body nor blood sacrifice + Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? + Then take my soul-my body, soul, and all, + Before that England give the French the foil. + [They depart] + See! they forsake me. Now the time is come + That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest + And let her head fall into England's lap. + My ancient incantations are too weak, + And hell too strong for me to buckle with. + Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. Exit + + Excursions. Enter French and English, fighting. + LA PUCELLE and YORK fight hand to hand; LA PUCELLE + is taken. The French fly + + YORK. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast. + Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms, + And try if they can gain your liberty. + A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace! + See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows + As if, with Circe, she would change my shape! + PUCELLE. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be. + YORK. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man: + No shape but his can please your dainty eye. + PUCELLE. A plaguing mischief fight on Charles and thee! + And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd + By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds! + YORK. Fell banning hag; enchantress, hold thy tongue. + PUCELLE. I prithee give me leave to curse awhile. + YORK. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake. + Exeunt + + Alarum. Enter SUFFOLK, with MARGARET in his hand + + SUFFOLK. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. + [Gazes on her] + O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly! + For I will touch thee but with reverent hands; + I kiss these fingers for eternal peace, + And lay them gently on thy tender side. + Who art thou? Say, that I may honour thee. + MARGARET. Margaret my name, and daughter to a king, + The King of Naples-whosoe'er thou art. + SUFFOLK. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd. + Be not offended, nature's miracle, + Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me. + So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, + Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings. + Yet, if this servile usage once offend, + Go and be free again as Suffolk's friend. [She is going] + O, stay! [Aside] I have no power to let her pass; + My hand would free her, but my heart says no. + As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, + Twinkling another counterfeited beam, + So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. + Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak. + I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind. + Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself; + Hast not a tongue? Is she not here thy prisoner? + Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight? + Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such + Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough. + MARGARET. Say, Earl of Suffolk, if thy name be so, + What ransom must I pay before I pass? + For I perceive I am thy prisoner. + SUFFOLK. [Aside] How canst thou tell she will deny thy + suit, + Before thou make a trial of her love? + MARGARET. Why speak'st thou not? What ransom must I + pay? + SUFFOLK. [Aside] She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; + She is a woman, therefore to be won. + MARGARET. Wilt thou accept of ransom-yea or no? + SUFFOLK. [Aside] Fond man, remember that thou hast a + wife; + Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? + MARGARET. I were best leave him, for he will not hear. + SUFFOLK. [Aside] There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling + card. + MARGARET. He talks at random; sure, the man is mad. + SUFFOLK. [Aside] And yet a dispensation may be had. + MARGARET. And yet I would that you would answer me. + SUFFOLK. [Aside] I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom? + Why, for my King! Tush, that's a wooden thing! + MARGARET. He talks of wood. It is some carpenter. + SUFFOLK. [Aside] Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, + And peace established between these realms. + But there remains a scruple in that too; + For though her father be the King of Naples, + Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, + And our nobility will scorn the match. + MARGARET. Hear ye, Captain-are you not at leisure? + SUFFOLK. [Aside] It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much. + Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield. + Madam, I have a secret to reveal. + MARGARET. [Aside] What though I be enthrall'd? He seems + a knight, + And will not any way dishonour me. + SUFFOLK. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. + MARGARET. [Aside] Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French; + And then I need not crave his courtesy. + SUFFOLK. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause + MARGARET. [Aside] Tush! women have been captivate ere + now. + SUFFOLK. Lady, wherefore talk you so? + MARGARET. I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo. + SUFFOLK. Say, gentle Princess, would you not suppose + Your bondage happy, to be made a queen? + MARGARET. To be a queen in bondage is more vile + Than is a slave in base servility; + For princes should be free. + SUFFOLK. And so shall you, + If happy England's royal king be free. + MARGARET. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me? + SUFFOLK. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen, + To put a golden sceptre in thy hand + And set a precious crown upon thy head, + If thou wilt condescend to be my- + MARGARET. What? + SUFFOLK. His love. + MARGARET. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. + SUFFOLK. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am + To woo so fair a dame to be his wife + And have no portion in the choice myself. + How say you, madam? Are ye so content? + MARGARET. An if my father please, I am content. + SUFFOLK. Then call our captains and our colours forth! + And, madam, at your father's castle walls + We'll crave a parley to confer with him. + + Sound a parley. Enter REIGNIER on the walls + + See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner! + REIGNIER. To whom? + SUFFOLK. To me. + REIGNIER. Suffolk, what remedy? + I am a soldier and unapt to weep + Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. + SUFFOLK. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord. + Consent, and for thy honour give consent, + Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king, + Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto; + And this her easy-held imprisonment + Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty. + REIGNIER. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks? + SUFFOLK. Fair Margaret knows + That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign. + REIGNIER. Upon thy princely warrant I descend + To give thee answer of thy just demand. + Exit REIGNIER from the walls + SUFFOLK. And here I will expect thy coming. + + Trumpets sound. Enter REIGNIER below + + REIGNIER. Welcome, brave Earl, into our territories; + Command in Anjou what your Honour pleases. + SUFFOLK. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child, + Fit to be made companion with a king. + What answer makes your Grace unto my suit? + REIGNIER. Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth + To be the princely bride of such a lord, + Upon condition I may quietly + Enjoy mine own, the country Maine and Anjou, + Free from oppression or the stroke of war, + My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please. + SUFFOLK. That is her ransom; I deliver her. + And those two counties I will undertake + Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy. + REIGNIER. And I again, in Henry's royal name, + As deputy unto that gracious king, + Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith. + SUFFOLK. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks, + Because this is in traffic of a king. + [Aside] And yet, methinks, I could be well content + To be mine own attorney in this case. + I'll over then to England with this news, + And make this marriage to be solemniz'd. + So, farewell, Reignier. Set this diamond safe + In golden palaces, as it becomes. + REIGNIER. I do embrace thee as I would embrace + The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here. + MARGARET. Farewell, my lord. Good wishes, praise, and + prayers, + Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [She is going] + SUFFOLK. Farewell, sweet madam. But hark you, Margaret + No princely commendations to my king? + MARGARET. Such commendations as becomes a maid, + A virgin, and his servant, say to him. + SUFFOLK. Words sweetly plac'd and modestly directed. + But, madam, I must trouble you again + No loving token to his Majesty? + MARGARET. Yes, my good lord: a pure unspotted heart, + Never yet taint with love, I send the King. + SUFFOLK. And this withal. [Kisses her] + MARGARET. That for thyself, I will not so presume + To send such peevish tokens to a king. + Exeunt REIGNIER and MARGARET + SUFFOLK. O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay; + Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth: + There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk. + Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise. + Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount, + And natural graces that extinguish art; + Repeat their semblance often on the seas, + That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet, + Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder. Exit + + + + + SCENE 4. + + Camp of the DUKE OF YORK in Anjou + + Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others + YORK. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd to burn. + + Enter LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a SHEPHERD + + SHEPHERD. Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart outright! + Have I sought every country far and near, + And, now it is my chance to find thee out, + Must I behold thy timeless cruel death? + Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee! + PUCELLE. Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch! + I am descended of a gentler blood; + Thou art no father nor no friend of mine. + SHEPHERD. Out, out! My lords, an please you, 'tis not so; + I did beget her, all the parish knows. + Her mother liveth yet, can testify + She was the first fruit of my bach'lorship. + WARWICK. Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage? + YORK. This argues what her kind of life hath been- + Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes. + SHEPHERD. Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle! + God knows thou art a collop of my flesh; + And for thy sake have I shed many a tear. + Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan. + PUCELLE. Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd this man + Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. + SHEPHERD. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest + The morn that I was wedded to her mother. + Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl. + Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time + Of thy nativity. I would the milk + Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her breast + Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake. + Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs afield, + I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee. + Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab? + O, burn her, burn her! Hanging is too good. Exit + YORK. Take her away; for she hath liv'd too long, + To fill the world with vicious qualities. + PUCELLE. First let me tell you whom you have condemn'd: + Not me begotten of a shepherd swain, + But issued from the progeny of kings; + Virtuous and holy, chosen from above + By inspiration of celestial grace, + To work exceeding miracles on earth. + I never had to do with wicked spirits. + But you, that are polluted with your lusts, + Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents, + Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, + Because you want the grace that others have, + You judge it straight a thing impossible + To compass wonders but by help of devils. + No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been + A virgin from her tender infancy, + Chaste and immaculate in very thought; + Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd, + Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven. + YORK. Ay, ay. Away with her to execution! + WARWICK. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid, + Spare for no fagots, let there be enow. + Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, + That so her torture may be shortened. + PUCELLE. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts? + Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity + That warranteth by law to be thy privilege: + I am with child, ye bloody homicides; + Murder not then the fruit within my womb, + Although ye hale me to a violent death. + YORK. Now heaven forfend! The holy maid with child! + WARWICK. The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought: + Is all your strict preciseness come to this? + YORK. She and the Dauphin have been juggling. + I did imagine what would be her refuge. + WARWICK. Well, go to; we'll have no bastards live; + Especially since Charles must father it. + PUCELLE. You are deceiv'd; my child is none of his: + It was Alencon that enjoy'd my love. + YORK. Alencon, that notorious Machiavel! + It dies, an if it had a thousand lives. + PUCELLE. O, give me leave, I have deluded you. + 'Twas neither Charles nor yet the Duke I nam'd, + But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevail'd. + WARWICK. A married man! That's most intolerable. + YORK. Why, here's a girl! I think she knows not well + There were so many-whom she may accuse. + WARWICK. It's sign she hath been liberal and free. + YORK. And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure. + Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee. + Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. + PUCELLE. Then lead me hence-with whom I leave my + curse: + May never glorious sun reflex his beams + Upon the country where you make abode; + But darkness and the gloomy shade of death + Environ you, till mischief and despair + Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves! + Exit, guarded + YORK. Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes, + Thou foul accursed minister of hell! + + Enter CARDINAL BEAUFORT, attended + + CARDINAL. Lord Regent, I do greet your Excellence + With letters of commission from the King. + For know, my lords, the states of Christendom, + Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils, + Have earnestly implor'd a general peace + Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French; + And here at hand the Dauphin and his train + Approacheth, to confer about some matter. + YORK. Is all our travail turn'd to this effect? + After the slaughter of so many peers, + So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers, + That in this quarrel have been overthrown + And sold their bodies for their country's benefit, + Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace? + Have we not lost most part of all the towns, + By treason, falsehood, and by treachery, + Our great progenitors had conquered? + O Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief + The utter loss of all the realm of France. + WARWICK. Be patient, York. If we conclude a peace, + It shall be with such strict and severe covenants + As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. + + Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BASTARD, REIGNIER, and others + + CHARLES. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed + That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France, + We come to be informed by yourselves + What the conditions of that league must be. + YORK. Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes + The hollow passage of my poison'd voice, + By sight of these our baleful enemies. + CARDINAL. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus: + That, in regard King Henry gives consent, + Of mere compassion and of lenity, + To ease your country of distressful war, + An suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace, + You shall become true liegemen to his crown; + And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear + To pay him tribute and submit thyself, + Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him, + And still enjoy thy regal dignity. + ALENCON. Must he be then as shadow of himself? + Adorn his temples with a coronet + And yet, in substance and authority, + Retain but privilege of a private man? + This proffer is absurd and reasonless. + CHARLES. 'Tis known already that I am possess'd + With more than half the Gallian territories, + And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king. + Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd, + Detract so much from that prerogative + As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole? + No, Lord Ambassador; I'll rather keep + That which I have than, coveting for more, + Be cast from possibility of all. + YORK. Insulting Charles! Hast thou by secret means + Us'd intercession to obtain a league, + And now the matter grows to compromise + Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison? + Either accept the title thou usurp'st, + Of benefit proceeding from our king + And not of any challenge of desert, + Or we will plague thee with incessant wars. + REIGNIER. [To CHARLES] My lord, you do not well in + obstinacy + To cavil in the course of this contract. + If once it be neglected, ten to one + We shall not find like opportunity. + ALENCON. [To CHARLES] To say the truth, it is your policy + To save your subjects from such massacre + And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen + By our proceeding in hostility; + And therefore take this compact of a truce, + Although you break it when your pleasure serves. + WARWICK. How say'st thou, Charles? Shall our condition + stand? + CHARLES. It shall; + Only reserv'd, you claim no interest + In any of our towns of garrison. + YORK. Then swear allegiance to his Majesty: + As thou art knight, never to disobey + Nor be rebellious to the crown of England + Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England. + [CHARLES and the rest give tokens of fealty] + So, now dismiss your army when ye please; + Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still, + For here we entertain a solemn peace. Exeunt + + + + + SCENE 5. + + London. The palace + + Enter SUFFOLK, in conference with the KING, + GLOUCESTER and EXETER + + KING HENRY. Your wondrous rare description, noble Earl, + Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me. + Her virtues, graced with external gifts, + Do breed love's settled passions in my heart; + And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts + Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, + So am I driven by breath of her renown + Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive + Where I may have fruition of her love. + SUFFOLK. Tush, my good lord! This superficial tale + Is but a preface of her worthy praise. + The chief perfections of that lovely dame, + Had I sufficient skill to utter them, + Would make a volume of enticing lines, + Able to ravish any dull conceit; + And, which is more, she is not so divine, + So full-replete with choice of all delights, + But with as humble lowliness of mind + She is content to be at your command + Command, I mean, of virtuous intents, + To love and honour Henry as her lord. + KING HENRY. And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume. + Therefore, my Lord Protector, give consent + That Margaret may be England's royal Queen. + GLOUCESTER. So should I give consent to flatter sin. + You know, my lord, your Highness is betroth'd + Unto another lady of esteem. + How shall we then dispense with that contract, + And not deface your honour with reproach? + SUFFOLK. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths; + Or one that at a triumph, having vow'd + To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists + By reason of his adversary's odds: + A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds, + And therefore may be broke without offence. + GLOUCESTER. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than + that? + Her father is no better than an earl, + Although in glorious titles he excel. + SUFFOLK. Yes, my lord, her father is a king, + The King of Naples and Jerusalem; + And of such great authority in France + As his alliance will confirm our peace, + And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. + GLOUCESTER. And so the Earl of Armagnac may do, + Because he is near kinsman unto Charles. + EXETER. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower; + Where Reignier sooner will receive than give. + SUFFOLK. A dow'r, my lords! Disgrace not so your king, + That he should be so abject, base, and poor, + To choose for wealth and not for perfect love. + Henry is able to enrich his queen, + And not to seek a queen to make him rich. + So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, + As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse. + Marriage is a matter of more worth + Than to be dealt in by attorneyship; + Not whom we will, but whom his Grace affects, + Must be companion of his nuptial bed. + And therefore, lords, since he affects her most, + It most of all these reasons bindeth us + In our opinions she should be preferr'd; + For what is wedlock forced but a hell, + An age of discord and continual strife? + Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss, + And is a pattern of celestial peace. + Whom should we match with Henry, being a king, + But Margaret, that is daughter to a king? + Her peerless feature, joined with her birth, + Approves her fit for none but for a king; + Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit, + More than in women commonly is seen, + Will answer our hope in issue of a king; + For Henry, son unto a conqueror, + Is likely to beget more conquerors, + If with a lady of so high resolve + As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love. + Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with me + That Margaret shall be Queen, and none but she. + KING HENRY. Whether it be through force of your report, + My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that + My tender youth was never yet attaint + With any passion of inflaming love, + I cannot tell; but this I am assur'd, + I feel such sharp dissension in my breast, + Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear, + As I am sick with working of my thoughts. + Take therefore shipping; post, my lord, to France; + Agree to any covenants; and procure + That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come + To cross the seas to England, and be crown'd + King Henry's faithful and anointed queen. + For your expenses and sufficient charge, + Among the people gather up a tenth. + Be gone, I say; for till you do return + I rest perplexed with a thousand cares. + And you, good uncle, banish all offence: + If you do censure me by what you were, + Not what you are, I know it will excuse + This sudden execution of my will. + And so conduct me where, from company, + I may revolve and ruminate my grief. Exit + GLOUCESTER. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last. + Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EXETER + SUFFOLK. Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd; and thus he goes, + As did the youthful Paris once to Greece, + With hope to find the like event in love + But prosper better than the Troyan did. + Margaret shall now be Queen, and rule the King; + But I will rule both her, the King, and realm. Exit + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1591 + +THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + KING HENRY THE SIXTH + HUMPHREY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, his uncle + CARDINAL BEAUFORT, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, great-uncle to the King + RICHARD PLANTAGENET, DUKE OF YORK + EDWARD and RICHARD, his sons + DUKE OF SOMERSET + DUKE OF SUFFOLK + DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM + LORD CLIFFORD + YOUNG CLIFFORD, his son + EARL OF SALISBURY + EARL OF WARWICK + LORD SCALES + LORD SAY + SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD + WILLIAM STAFFORD, his brother + SIR JOHN STANLEY + VAUX + MATTHEW GOFFE + A LIEUTENANT, a SHIPMASTER, a MASTER'S MATE, and WALTER WHITMORE + TWO GENTLEMEN, prisoners with Suffolk + JOHN HUME and JOHN SOUTHWELL, two priests + ROGER BOLINGBROKE, a conjurer + A SPIRIT raised by him + THOMAS HORNER, an armourer + PETER, his man + CLERK OF CHATHAM + MAYOR OF SAINT ALBANS + SAUNDER SIMPCOX, an impostor + ALEXANDER IDEN, a Kentish gentleman + JACK CADE, a rebel + GEORGE BEVIS, JOHN HOLLAND, DICK THE BUTCHER, SMITH THE WEAVER, + MICHAEL, &c., followers of Cade + TWO MURDERERS + + MARGARET, Queen to King Henry + ELEANOR, Duchess of Gloucester + MARGERY JOURDAIN, a witch + WIFE to SIMPCOX + + Lords, Ladies, and Attendants; Petitioners, Aldermen, a Herald, + a Beadle, a Sheriff, Officers, Citizens, Prentices, Falconers, + Guards, Soldiers, Messengers, &c. + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +England + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +London. The palace + +Flourish of trumpets; then hautboys. Enter the KING, DUKE HUMPHREY +OF GLOUCESTER, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and CARDINAL BEAUFORT, on the one side; +the QUEEN, SUFFOLK, YORK, SOMERSET, and BUCKINGHAM, on the other + + SUFFOLK. As by your high imperial Majesty + I had in charge at my depart for France, + As procurator to your Excellence, + To marry Princess Margaret for your Grace; + So, in the famous ancient city Tours, + In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil, + The Dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretagne, and Alencon, + Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty reverend bishops, + I have perform'd my task, and was espous'd; + And humbly now upon my bended knee, + In sight of England and her lordly peers, + Deliver up my title in the Queen + To your most gracious hands, that are the substance + Of that great shadow I did represent: + The happiest gift that ever marquis gave, + The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd. + KING HENRY. Suffolk, arise. Welcome, Queen Margaret: + I can express no kinder sign of love + Than this kind kiss. O Lord, that lends me life, + Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! + For thou hast given me in this beauteous face + A world of earthly blessings to my soul, + If sympathy of love unite our thoughts. + QUEEN. Great King of England, and my gracious lord, + The mutual conference that my mind hath had, + By day, by night, waking and in my dreams, + In courtly company or at my beads, + With you, mine alder-liefest sovereign, + Makes me the bolder to salute my king + With ruder terms, such as my wit affords + And over-joy of heart doth minister. + KING HENRY. Her sight did ravish, but her grace in speech, + Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty, + Makes me from wond'ring fall to weeping joys, + Such is the fulness of my heart's content. + Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love. + ALL. [Kneeling] Long live Queen Margaret, England's happiness! + QUEEN. We thank you all. [Flourish] + SUFFOLK. My Lord Protector, so it please your Grace, + Here are the articles of contracted peace + Between our sovereign and the French King Charles, + For eighteen months concluded by consent. + GLOUCESTER. [Reads] 'Imprimis: It is agreed between the French King + Charles and William de la Pole, Marquess of Suffolk, ambassador + for Henry King of England, that the said Henry shall espouse the + Lady Margaret, daughter unto Reignier King of Naples, Sicilia, + and Jerusalem, and crown her Queen of England ere the thirtieth + of May next ensuing. + Item: That the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be + released and delivered to the King her father'- + [Lets the paper fall] + KING HENRY. Uncle, how now! + GLOUCESTER. Pardon me, gracious lord; + Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart, + And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further. + KING HENRY. Uncle of Winchester, I pray read on. + CARDINAL. [Reads] 'Item: It is further agreed between them that the + duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released and delivered over + to the King her father, and she sent over of the King of + England's own proper cost and charges, without having any dowry.' + KING HENRY. They please us well. Lord Marquess, kneel down. + We here create thee the first Duke of Suffolk, + And girt thee with the sword. Cousin of York, + We here discharge your Grace from being Regent + I' th' parts of France, till term of eighteen months + Be full expir'd. Thanks, uncle Winchester, + Gloucester, York, Buckingham, Somerset, + Salisbury, and Warwick; + We thank you all for this great favour done + In entertainment to my princely queen. + Come, let us in, and with all speed provide + To see her coronation be perform'd. + Exeunt KING, QUEEN, and SUFFOLK + GLOUCESTER. Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, + To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief + Your grief, the common grief of all the land. + What! did my brother Henry spend his youth, + His valour, coin, and people, in the wars? + Did he so often lodge in open field, + In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, + To conquer France, his true inheritance? + And did my brother Bedford toil his wits + To keep by policy what Henry got? + Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, + Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, + Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy? + Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself, + With all the learned Council of the realm, + Studied so long, sat in the Council House + Early and late, debating to and fro + How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe? + And had his Highness in his infancy + Crowned in Paris, in despite of foes? + And shall these labours and these honours die? + Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, + Your deeds of war, and all our counsel die? + O peers of England, shameful is this league! + Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame, + Blotting your names from books of memory, + Razing the characters of your renown, + Defacing monuments of conquer'd France, + Undoing all, as all had never been! + CARDINAL. Nephew, what means this passionate discourse, + This peroration with such circumstance? + For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still. + GLOUCESTER. Ay, uncle, we will keep it if we can; + But now it is impossible we should. + Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast, + Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine + Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style + Agrees not with the leanness of his purse. + SALISBURY. Now, by the death of Him that died for all, + These counties were the keys of Normandy! + But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son? + WARWICK. For grief that they are past recovery; + For were there hope to conquer them again + My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears. + Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both; + Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer; + And are the cities that I got with wounds + Deliver'd up again with peaceful words? + Mort Dieu! + YORK. For Suffolk's duke, may he be suffocate, + That dims the honour of this warlike isle! + France should have torn and rent my very heart + Before I would have yielded to this league. + I never read but England's kings have had + Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives; + And our King Henry gives away his own + To match with her that brings no vantages. + GLOUCESTER. A proper jest, and never heard before, + That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth + For costs and charges in transporting her! + She should have stay'd in France, and starv'd in France, + Before- + CARDINAL. My Lord of Gloucester, now ye grow too hot: + It was the pleasure of my lord the King. + GLOUCESTER. My Lord of Winchester, I know your mind; + 'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, + But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye. + Rancour will out: proud prelate, in thy face + I see thy fury; if I longer stay + We shall begin our ancient bickerings. + Lordings, farewell; and say, when I am gone, + I prophesied France will be lost ere long. Exit + CARDINAL. So, there goes our Protector in a rage. + 'Tis known to you he is mine enemy; + Nay, more, an enemy unto you all, + And no great friend, I fear me, to the King. + Consider, lords, he is the next of blood + And heir apparent to the English crown. + Had Henry got an empire by his marriage + And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, + There's reason he should be displeas'd at it. + Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing words + Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect. + What though the common people favour him, + Calling him 'Humphrey, the good Duke of Gloucester,' + Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice + 'Jesu maintain your royal excellence!' + With 'God preserve the good Duke Humphrey!' + I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, + He will be found a dangerous Protector. + BUCKINGHAM. Why should he then protect our sovereign, + He being of age to govern of himself? + Cousin of Somerset, join you with me, + And all together, with the Duke of Suffolk, + We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat. + CARDINAL. This weighty business will not brook delay; + I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently. Exit + SOMERSET. Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey's pride + And greatness of his place be grief to us, + Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal; + His insolence is more intolerable + Than all the princes in the land beside; + If Gloucester be displac'd, he'll be Protector. + BUCKINGHAM. Or thou or I, Somerset, will be Protector, + Despite Duke Humphrey or the Cardinal. + Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and SOMERSET + SALISBURY. Pride went before, ambition follows him. + While these do labour for their own preferment, + Behoves it us to labour for the realm. + I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloucester + Did bear him like a noble gentleman. + Oft have I seen the haughty Cardinal- + More like a soldier than a man o' th' church, + As stout and proud as he were lord of all- + Swear like a ruffian and demean himself + Unlike the ruler of a commonweal. + Warwick my son, the comfort of my age, + Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping, + Hath won the greatest favour of the commons, + Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey. + And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, + In bringing them to civil discipline, + Thy late exploits done in the heart of France + When thou wert Regent for our sovereign, + Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people: + Join we together for the public good, + In what we can, to bridle and suppress + The pride of Suffolk and the Cardinal, + With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition; + And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds + While they do tend the profit of the land. + WARWICK. So God help Warwick, as he loves the land + And common profit of his country! + YORK. And so says York- [Aside] for he hath greatest cause. + SALISBURY. Then let's make haste away and look unto the main. + WARWICK. Unto the main! O father, Maine is lost- + That Maine which by main force Warwick did win, + And would have kept so long as breath did last. + Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant Maine, + Which I will win from France, or else be slain. + Exeunt WARWICK and SALISBURY + YORK. Anjou and Maine are given to the French; + Paris is lost; the state of Normandy + Stands on a tickle point now they are gone. + Suffolk concluded on the articles; + The peers agreed; and Henry was well pleas'd + To changes two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter. + I cannot blame them all: what is't to them? + 'Tis thine they give away, and not their own. + Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, + And purchase friends, and give to courtezans, + Still revelling like lords till all be gone; + While as the silly owner of the goods + Weeps over them and wrings his hapless hands + And shakes his head and trembling stands aloof, + While all is shar'd and all is borne away, + Ready to starve and dare not touch his own. + So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue, + While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold. + Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland, + Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood + As did the fatal brand Althaea burnt + Unto the prince's heart of Calydon. + Anjou and Maine both given unto the French! + Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, + Even as I have of fertile England's soil. + A day will come when York shall claim his own; + And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts, + And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey, + And when I spy advantage, claim the crown, + For that's the golden mark I seek to hit. + Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, + Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist, + Nor wear the diadem upon his head, + Whose church-like humours fits not for a crown. + Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve; + Watch thou and wake, when others be asleep, + To pry into the secrets of the state; + Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love + With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen, + And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars; + Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, + With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd, + And in my standard bear the arms of York, + To grapple with the house of Lancaster; + And force perforce I'll make him yield the crown, + Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +The DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S house + +Enter DUKE and his wife ELEANOR + + DUCHESS. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn + Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load? + Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, + As frowning at the favours of the world? + Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth, + Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? + What see'st thou there? King Henry's diadem, + Enchas'd with all the honours of the world? + If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face + Until thy head be circled with the same. + Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold. + What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine; + And having both together heav'd it up, + We'll both together lift our heads to heaven, + And never more abase our sight so low + As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. + GLOUCESTER. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord, + Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts! + And may that thought, when I imagine ill + Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, + Be my last breathing in this mortal world! + My troublous dreams this night doth make me sad. + DUCHESS. What dream'd my lord? Tell me, and I'll requite it + With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. + GLOUCESTER. Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court, + Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot, + But, as I think, it was by th' Cardinal; + And on the pieces of the broken wand + Were plac'd the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset + And William de la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk. + This was my dream; what it doth bode God knows. + DUCHESS. Tut, this was nothing but an argument + That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester's grove + Shall lose his head for his presumption. + But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet Duke: + Methought I sat in seat of majesty + In the cathedral church of Westminster, + And in that chair where kings and queens were crown'd; + Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me, + And on my head did set the diadem. + GLOUCESTER. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright. + Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor! + Art thou not second woman in the realm, + And the Protector's wife, belov'd of him? + Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command + Above the reach or compass of thy thought? + And wilt thou still be hammering treachery + To tumble down thy husband and thyself + From top of honour to disgrace's feet? + Away from me, and let me hear no more! + DUCHESS. What, what, my lord! Are you so choleric + With Eleanor for telling but her dream? + Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself + And not be check'd. + GLOUCESTER. Nay, be not angry; I am pleas'd again. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highness' pleasure + You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans, + Where as the King and Queen do mean to hawk. + GLOUCESTER. I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us? + DUCHESS. Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently. + Exeunt GLOUCESTER and MESSENGER + Follow I must; I cannot go before, + While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind. + Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, + I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks + And smooth my way upon their headless necks; + And, being a woman, I will not be slack + To play my part in Fortune's pageant. + Where are you there, Sir John? Nay, fear not, man, + We are alone; here's none but thee and I. + + Enter HUME + + HUME. Jesus preserve your royal Majesty! + DUCHESS. What say'st thou? Majesty! I am but Grace. + HUME. But, by the grace of God and Hume's advice, + Your Grace's title shall be multiplied. + DUCHESS. What say'st thou, man? Hast thou as yet conferr'd + With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch of Eie, + With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? + And will they undertake to do me good? + HUME. This they have promised, to show your Highness + A spirit rais'd from depth of underground + That shall make answer to such questions + As by your Grace shall be propounded him + DUCHESS. It is enough; I'll think upon the questions; + When from Saint Albans we do make return + We'll see these things effected to the full. + Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man, + With thy confederates in this weighty cause. Exit + HUME. Hume must make merry with the Duchess' gold; + Marry, and shall. But, how now, Sir John Hume! + Seal up your lips and give no words but mum: + The business asketh silent secrecy. + Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch: + Gold cannot come amiss were she a devil. + Yet have I gold flies from another coast- + I dare not say from the rich Cardinal, + And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk; + Yet I do find it so; for, to be plain, + They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour, + Have hired me to undermine the Duchess, + And buzz these conjurations in her brain. + They say 'A crafty knave does need no broker'; + Yet am I Suffolk and the Cardinal's broker. + Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near + To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. + Well, so its stands; and thus, I fear, at last + Hume's knavery will be the Duchess' wreck, + And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall + Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all. Exit + + + + +SCENE III. +London. The palace + +Enter three or four PETITIONERS, PETER, the Armourer's man, being one + + FIRST PETITIONER. My masters, let's stand close; my Lord Protector + will come this way by and by, and then we may deliver our + supplications in the quill. + SECOND PETITIONER. Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a good + man, Jesu bless him! + + Enter SUFFOLK and QUEEN + + FIRST PETITIONER. Here 'a comes, methinks, and the Queen with him. + I'll be the first, sure. + SECOND PETITIONER. Come back, fool; this is the Duke of Suffolk and + not my Lord Protector. + SUFFOLK. How now, fellow! Wouldst anything with me? + FIRST PETITIONER. I pray, my lord, pardon me; I took ye for my Lord + Protector. + QUEEN. [Reads] 'To my Lord Protector!' Are your supplications to + his lordship? Let me see them. What is thine? + FIRST PETITIONER. Mine is, an't please your Grace, against John + Goodman, my Lord Cardinal's man, for keeping my house and lands, + and wife and all, from me. + SUFFOLK. Thy wife too! That's some wrong indeed. What's yours? + What's here! [Reads] 'Against the Duke of Suffolk, for enclosing + the commons of Melford.' How now, sir knave! + SECOND PETITIONER. Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our + whole township. + PETER. [Presenting his petition] Against my master, Thomas Horner, + for saying that the Duke of York was rightful heir to the crown. + QUEEN. What say'st thou? Did the Duke of York say he was rightful + heir to the crown? + PETER. That my master was? No, forsooth. My master said that he + was, and that the King was an usurper. + SUFFOLK. Who is there? [Enter servant] Take this fellow in, and + send for his master with a pursuivant presently. We'll hear more + of your matter before the King. + Exit servant with PETER + QUEEN. And as for you, that love to be protected + Under the wings of our Protector's grace, + Begin your suits anew, and sue to him. + [Tears the supplications] + Away, base cullions! Suffolk, let them go. + ALL. Come, let's be gone. Exeunt + QUEEN. My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise, + Is this the fashions in the court of England? + Is this the government of Britain's isle, + And this the royalty of Albion's king? + What, shall King Henry be a pupil still, + Under the surly Gloucester's governance? + Am I a queen in title and in style, + And must be made a subject to a duke? + I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours + Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love + And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France, + I thought King Henry had resembled thee + In courage, courtship, and proportion; + But all his mind is bent to holiness, + To number Ave-Maries on his beads; + His champions are the prophets and apostles; + His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ; + His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves + Are brazen images of canonized saints. + I would the college of the Cardinals + Would choose him Pope, and carry him to Rome, + And set the triple crown upon his head; + That were a state fit for his holiness. + SUFFOLK. Madam, be patient. As I was cause + Your Highness came to England, so will I + In England work your Grace's full content. + QUEEN. Beside the haughty Protector, have we Beaufort + The imperious churchman; Somerset, Buckingham, + And grumbling York; and not the least of these + But can do more in England than the King. + SUFFOLK. And he of these that can do most of all + Cannot do more in England than the Nevils; + Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers. + QUEEN. Not all these lords do vex me half so much + As that proud dame, the Lord Protector's wife. + She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies, + More like an empress than Duke Humphrey's wife. + Strangers in court do take her for the Queen. + She bears a duke's revenues on her back, + And in her heart she scorns our poverty; + Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her? + Contemptuous base-born callet as she is, + She vaunted 'mongst her minions t' other day + The very train of her worst wearing gown + Was better worth than all my father's lands, + Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter. + SUFFOLK. Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for her, + And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds + That she will light to listen to the lays, + And never mount to trouble you again. + So, let her rest. And, madam, list to me, + For I am bold to counsel you in this: + Although we fancy not the Cardinal, + Yet must we join with him and with the lords, + Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace. + As for the Duke of York, this late complaint + Will make but little for his benefit. + So one by one we'll weed them all at last, + And you yourself shall steer the happy helm. + + Sound a sennet. Enter the KING, DUKE HUMPHREY, + CARDINAL BEAUFORT, BUCKINGHAM, YORK, SOMERSET, SALISBURY, + WARWICK, and the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER + + KING HENRY. For my part, noble lords, I care not which: + Or Somerset or York, all's one to me. + YORK. If York have ill demean'd himself in France, + Then let him be denay'd the regentship. + SOMERSET. If Somerset be unworthy of the place, + Let York be Regent; I will yield to him. + WARWICK. Whether your Grace be worthy, yea or no, + Dispute not that; York is the worthier. + CARDINAL. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak. + WARWICK. The Cardinal's not my better in the field. + BUCKINGHAM. All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick. + WARWICK. Warwick may live to be the best of all. + SALISBURY. Peace, son! And show some reason, Buckingham, + Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this. + QUEEN. Because the King, forsooth, will have it so. + GLOUCESTER. Madam, the King is old enough himself + To give his censure. These are no women's matters. + QUEEN. If he be old enough, what needs your Grace + To be Protector of his Excellence? + GLOUCESTER. Madam, I am Protector of the realm; + And at his pleasure will resign my place. + SUFFOLK. Resign it then, and leave thine insolence. + Since thou wert king- as who is king but thou?- + The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack, + The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas, + And all the peers and nobles of the realm + Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty. + CARDINAL. The commons hast thou rack'd; the clergy's bags + Are lank and lean with thy extortions. + SOMERSET. Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's attire + Have cost a mass of public treasury. + BUCKINGHAM. Thy cruelty in execution + Upon offenders hath exceeded law, + And left thee to the mercy of the law. + QUEEN. Thy sale of offices and towns in France, + If they were known, as the suspect is great, + Would make thee quickly hop without thy head. + Exit GLOUCESTER. The QUEEN drops QUEEN her fan + Give me my fan. What, minion, can ye not? + [She gives the DUCHESS a box on the ear] + I cry your mercy, madam; was it you? + DUCHESS. Was't I? Yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman. + Could I come near your beauty with my nails, + I could set my ten commandments in your face. + KING HENRY. Sweet aunt, be quiet; 'twas against her will. + DUCHESS. Against her will, good King? Look to 't in time; + She'll hamper thee and dandle thee like a baby. + Though in this place most master wear no breeches, + She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unreveng'd. Exit + BUCKINGHAM. Lord Cardinal, I will follow Eleanor, + And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds. + She's tickled now; her fume needs no spurs, + She'll gallop far enough to her destruction. Exit + + Re-enter GLOUCESTER + + GLOUCESTER. Now, lords, my choler being overblown + With walking once about the quadrangle, + I come to talk of commonwealth affairs. + As for your spiteful false objections, + Prove them, and I lie open to the law; + But God in mercy so deal with my soul + As I in duty love my king and country! + But to the matter that we have in hand: + I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man + To be your Regent in the realm of France. + SUFFOLK. Before we make election, give me leave + To show some reason, of no little force, + That York is most unmeet of any man. + YORK. I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet: + First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride; + Next, if I be appointed for the place, + My Lord of Somerset will keep me here + Without discharge, money, or furniture, + Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands. + Last time I danc'd attendance on his will + Till Paris was besieg'd, famish'd, and lost. + WARWICK. That can I witness; and a fouler fact + Did never traitor in the land commit. + SUFFOLK. Peace, headstrong Warwick! + WARWICK. Image of pride, why should I hold my peace? + + Enter HORNER, the Armourer, and his man PETER, guarded + + SUFFOLK. Because here is a man accus'd of treason: + Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself! + YORK. Doth any one accuse York for a traitor? + KING HENRY. What mean'st thou, Suffolk? Tell me, what are these? + SUFFOLK. Please it your Majesty, this is the man + That doth accuse his master of high treason; + His words were these: that Richard Duke of York + Was rightful heir unto the English crown, + And that your Majesty was an usurper. + KING HENRY. Say, man, were these thy words? + HORNER. An't shall please your Majesty, I never said nor thought + any such matter. God is my witness, I am falsely accus'd by the + villain. + PETER. [Holding up his hands] By these ten bones, my lords, he did + speak them to me in the garret one night, as we were scouring my + Lord of York's armour. + YORK. Base dunghill villain and mechanical, + I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech. + I do beseech your royal Majesty, + Let him have all the rigour of the law. + HORNER`. Alas, my lord, hang me if ever I spake the words. My + accuser is my prentice; and when I did correct him for his fault + the other day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even with + me. I have good witness of this; therefore I beseech your + Majesty, do not cast away an honest man for a villain's + accusation. + KING HENRY. Uncle, what shall we say to this in law? + GLOUCESTER. This doom, my lord, if I may judge: + Let Somerset be Regent o'er the French, + Because in York this breeds suspicion; + And let these have a day appointed them + For single combat in convenient place, + For he hath witness of his servant's malice. + This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey's doom. + SOMERSET. I humbly thank your royal Majesty. + HORNER. And I accept the combat willingly. + PETER. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God's sake, pity my case! + The spite of man prevaileth against me. O Lord, have mercy upon + me, I shall never be able to fight a blow! O Lord, my heart! + GLOUCESTER. Sirrah, or you must fight or else be hang'd. + KING HENRY. Away with them to prison; and the day of combat shall + be the last of the next month. + Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away. Flourish. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +London. The DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S garden + +Enter MARGERY JOURDAIN, the witch; the two priests, HUME and SOUTHWELL; +and BOLINGBROKE + + HUME. Come, my masters; the Duchess, I tell you, expects + performance of your promises. + BOLINGBROKE. Master Hume, we are therefore provided; will her + ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms? + HUME. Ay, what else? Fear you not her courage. + BOLINGBROKE. I have heard her reported to be a woman of an + invincible spirit; but it shall be convenient, Master Hume, that + you be by her aloft while we be busy below; and so I pray you go, + in God's name, and leave us. [Exit HUME] Mother Jourdain, be you + prostrate and grovel on the earth; John Southwell, read you; and + let us to our work. + + Enter DUCHESS aloft, followed by HUME + + DUCHESS. Well said, my masters; and welcome all. To this gear, the + sooner the better. + BOLINGBROKE. Patience, good lady; wizards know their times: + Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, + The time of night when Troy was set on fire; + The time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl, + And spirits walk and ghosts break up their graves- + That time best fits the work we have in hand. + Madam, sit you, and fear not: whom we raise + We will make fast within a hallow'd verge. + + [Here they do the ceremonies belonging, and make the circle; + BOLINGBROKE or SOUTHWELL reads: 'Conjuro te,' &c. + It thunders and lightens terribly; then the SPIRIT riseth] + + SPIRIT. Adsum. + MARGERY JOURDAIN. Asmath, + By the eternal God, whose name and power + Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask; + For till thou speak thou shalt not pass from hence. + SPIRIT. Ask what thou wilt; that I had said and done. + BOLINGBROKE. [Reads] 'First of the king: what shall of him become?' + SPIRIT. The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose; + But him outlive, and die a violent death. + [As the SPIRIT speaks, SOUTHWELL writes the answer] + BOLINGBROKE. 'What fates await the Duke of Suffolk?' + SPIRIT. By water shall he die and take his end. + BOLINGBROKE. 'What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?' + SPIRIT. Let him shun castles: + Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains + Than where castles mounted stand. + Have done, for more I hardly can endure. + BOLINGBROKE. Descend to darkness and the burning lake; + False fiend, avoid! Thunder and lightning. Exit SPIRIT + + Enter the DUKE OF YORK and the DUKE OF + BUCKINGHAM with guard, and break in + + YORK. Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash. + Beldam, I think we watch'd you at an inch. + What, madam, are you there? The King and commonweal + Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains; + My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not, + See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts. + DUCHESS. Not half so bad as thine to England's king, + Injurious Duke, that threatest where's no cause. + BUCKINGHAM. True, madam, none at all. What can you this? + Away with them! let them be clapp'd up close, + And kept asunder. You, madam, shall with us. + Stafford, take her to thee. + We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming. + All, away! + Exeunt, above, DUCHESS and HUME, guarded; below, + WITCH, SOUTHWELL and BOLINGBROKE, guarded + YORK. Lord Buckingham, methinks you watch'd her well. + A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon! + Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ. + What have we here? [Reads] + 'The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose; + But him outlive, and die a violent death.' + Why, this is just + 'Aio te, Aeacida, Romanos vincere posse.' + Well, to the rest: + 'Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk?' + 'By water shall he die and take his end.' + 'What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?' + 'Let him shun castles; + Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains + Than where castles mounted stand.' + Come, come, my lords; + These oracles are hardly attain'd, + And hardly understood. + The King is now in progress towards Saint Albans, + With him the husband of this lovely lady; + Thither go these news as fast as horse can carry them- + A sorry breakfast for my Lord Protector. + BUCKINGHAM. Your Grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York, + To be the post, in hope of his reward. + YORK. At your pleasure, my good lord. + Who's within there, ho? + + Enter a serving-man + + Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick + To sup with me to-morrow night. Away! Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +Saint Albans + +Enter the KING, QUEEN, GLOUCESTER, CARDINAL, and SUFFOLK, +with Falconers halloing + + QUEEN. Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook, + I saw not better sport these seven years' day; + Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high, + And ten to one old Joan had not gone out. + KING HENRY. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, + And what a pitch she flew above the rest! + To see how God in all His creatures works! + Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. + SUFFOLK. No marvel, an it like your Majesty, + My Lord Protector's hawks do tow'r so well; + They know their master loves to be aloft, + And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. + GLOUCESTER. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind + That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. + CARDINAL. I thought as much; he would be above the clouds. + GLOUCESTER. Ay, my lord Cardinal, how think you by that? + Were it not good your Grace could fly to heaven? + KING HENRY. The treasury of everlasting joy! + CARDINAL. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts + Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart; + Pernicious Protector, dangerous peer, + That smooth'st it so with King and commonweal. + GLOUCESTER. What, Cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory? + Tantaene animis coelestibus irae? + Churchmen so hot? Good uncle, hide such malice; + With such holiness can you do it? + SUFFOLK. No malice, sir; no more than well becomes + So good a quarrel and so bad a peer. + GLOUCESTER. As who, my lord? + SUFFOLK. Why, as you, my lord, + An't like your lordly Lord's Protectorship. + GLOUCESTER. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence. + QUEEN. And thy ambition, Gloucester. + KING HENRY. I prithee, peace, + Good Queen, and whet not on these furious peers; + For blessed are the peacemakers on earth. + CARDINAL. Let me be blessed for the peace I make + Against this proud Protector with my sword! + GLOUCESTER. [Aside to CARDINAL] Faith, holy uncle, would 'twere + come to that! + CARDINAL. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Marry, when thou dar'st. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside to CARDINAL] Make up no factious numbers for the + matter; + In thine own person answer thy abuse. + CARDINAL. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Ay, where thou dar'st not peep; an + if thou dar'st, + This evening on the east side of the grove. + KING HENRY. How now, my lords! + CARDINAL. Believe me, cousin Gloucester, + Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, + We had had more sport. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Come with thy + two-hand sword. + GLOUCESTER. True, uncle. + CARDINAL. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Are ye advis'd? The east side of + the grove? + GLOUCESTER. [Aside to CARDINAL] Cardinal, I am with you. + KING HENRY. Why, how now, uncle Gloucester! + GLOUCESTER. Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord. + [Aside to CARDINAL] Now, by God's Mother, priest, + I'll shave your crown for this, + Or all my fence shall fail. + CARDINAL. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Medice, teipsum; + Protector, see to't well; protect yourself. + KING HENRY. The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords. + How irksome is this music to my heart! + When such strings jar, what hope of harmony? + I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife. + + Enter a TOWNSMAN of Saint Albans, crying 'A miracle!' + + GLOUCESTER. What means this noise? + Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim? + TOWNSMAN. A miracle! A miracle! + SUFFOLK. Come to the King, and tell him what miracle. + TOWNSMAN. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Albans shrine + Within this half hour hath receiv'd his sight; + A man that ne'er saw in his life before. + KING HENRY. Now God be prais'd that to believing souls + Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair! + + Enter the MAYOR OF SAINT ALBANS and his brethren, + bearing Simpcox between two in a chair; + his WIFE and a multitude following + + CARDINAL. Here comes the townsmen on procession + To present your Highness with the man. + KING HENRY. Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, + Although by his sight his sin be multiplied. + GLOUCESTER. Stand by, my masters; bring him near the King; + His Highness' pleasure is to talk with him. + KING HENRY. Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance, + That we for thee may glorify the Lord. + What, hast thou been long blind and now restor'd? + SIMPCOX. Born blind, an't please your Grace. + WIFE. Ay indeed was he. + SUFFOLK. What woman is this? + WIFE. His wife, an't like your worship. + GLOUCESTER. Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst have better + told. + KING HENRY. Where wert thou born? + SIMPCOX. At Berwick in the north, an't like your Grace. + KING HENRY. Poor soul, God's goodness hath been great to thee. + Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, + But still remember what the Lord hath done. + QUEEN. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here by chance, + Or of devotion, to this holy shrine? + SIMPCOX. God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd + A hundred times and oft'ner, in my sleep, + By good Saint Alban, who said 'Simpcox, come, + Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.' + WIFE. Most true, forsooth; and many time and oft + Myself have heard a voice to call him so. + CARDINAL. What, art thou lame? + SIMPCOX. Ay, God Almighty help me! + SUFFOLK. How cam'st thou so? + SIMPCOX. A fall off of a tree. + WIFE. A plum tree, master. + GLOUCESTER. How long hast thou been blind? + SIMPCOX. O, born so, master! + GLOUCESTER. What, and wouldst climb a tree? + SIMPCOX. But that in all my life, when I was a youth. + WIFE. Too true; and bought his climbing very dear. + GLOUCESTER. Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that wouldst venture so. + SIMPCOX. Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some damsons + And made me climb, With danger of my life. + GLOUCESTER. A subtle knave! But yet it shall not serve: + Let me see thine eyes; wink now; now open them; + In my opinion yet thou seest not well. + SIMPCOX. Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God and Saint Alban. + GLOUCESTER. Say'st thou me so? What colour is this cloak of? + SIMPCOX. Red, master; red as blood. + GLOUCESTER. Why, that's well said. What colour is my gown of? + SIMPCOX. Black, forsooth; coal-black as jet. + KING HENRY. Why, then, thou know'st what colour jet is of? + SUFFOLK. And yet, I think, jet did he never see. + GLOUCESTER. But cloaks and gowns before this day a many. + WIFE. Never before this day in all his life. + GLOUCESTER. Tell me, sirrah, what's my name? + SIMPCOX. Alas, master, I know not. + GLOUCESTER. What's his name? + SIMPCOX. I know not. + GLOUCESTER. Nor his? + SIMPCOX. No, indeed, master. + GLOUCESTER. What's thine own name? + SIMPCOX. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, master. + GLOUCESTER. Then, Saunder, sit there, the lying'st knave in + Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou mightst as well + have known all our names as thus to name the several colours we + do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours; but suddenly to + nominate them all, it is impossible. My lords, Saint Alban here + hath done a miracle; and would ye not think his cunning to be + great that could restore this cripple to his legs again? + SIMPCOX. O master, that you could! + GLOUCESTER. My masters of Saint Albans, have you not beadles in + your town, and things call'd whips? + MAYOR. Yes, my lord, if it please your Grace. + GLOUCESTER. Then send for one presently. + MAYOR. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. + Exit an attendant + GLOUCESTER. Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. [A stool + brought] Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping, + leap me over this stool and run away. + SIMPCOX. Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone! + You go about to torture me in vain. + + Enter a BEADLE with whips + + GLOUCESTER. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. + Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool. + BEADLE. I will, my lord. Come on, sirrah; off with your doublet + quickly. + SIMPCOX. Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand. + + After the BEADLE hath hit him once, he leaps over + the stool and runs away; and they follow and cry + 'A miracle!' + + KING HENRY. O God, seest Thou this, and bearest so long? + QUEEN. It made me laugh to see the villain run. + GLOUCESTER. Follow the knave, and take this drab away. + WIFE. Alas, sir, we did it for pure need! + GLOUCESTER. Let them be whipp'd through every market town till they + come to Berwick, from whence they came. + Exeunt MAYOR, BEADLE, WIFE, &c. + CARDINAL. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day. + SUFFOLK. True; made the lame to leap and fly away. + GLOUCESTER. But you have done more miracles than I: + You made in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly. + + Enter BUCKINGHAM + + KING HENRY. What tidings with our cousin Buckingham? + BUCKINGHAM. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold: + A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent, + Under the countenance and confederacy + Of Lady Eleanor, the Protector's wife, + The ringleader and head of all this rout, + Have practis'd dangerously against your state, + Dealing with witches and with conjurers, + Whom we have apprehended in the fact, + Raising up wicked spirits from under ground, + Demanding of King Henry's life and death + And other of your Highness' Privy Council, + As more at large your Grace shall understand. + CARDINAL. And so, my Lord Protector, by this means + Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. + This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge; + 'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour. + GLOUCESTER. Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart. + Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers; + And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to the + Or to the meanest groom. + KING HENRY. O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones, + Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby! + QUEEN. Gloucester, see here the tainture of thy nest; + And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best. + GLOUCESTER. Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal + How I have lov'd my King and commonweal; + And for my wife I know not how it stands. + Sorry I am to hear what I have heard. + Noble she is; but if she have forgot + Honour and virtue, and convers'd with such + As, like to pitch, defile nobility, + I banish her my bed and company + And give her as a prey to law and shame, + That hath dishonoured Gloucester's honest name. + KING HENRY. Well, for this night we will repose us here. + To-morrow toward London back again + To look into this business thoroughly + And call these foul offenders to their answers, + And poise the cause in justice' equal scales, + Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. + Flourish. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +London. The DUKE OF YORK'S garden + +Enter YORK, SALISBURY, and WARWICK + + YORK. Now, my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick, + Our simple supper ended, give me leave + In this close walk to satisfy myself + In craving your opinion of my tide, + Which is infallible, to England's crown. + SALISBURY. My lord, I long to hear it at full. + WARWICK. Sweet York, begin; and if thy claim be good, + The Nevils are thy subjects to command. + YORK. Then thus: + Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons; + The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales; + The second, William of Hatfield; and the third, + Lionel Duke of Clarence; next to whom + Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; + The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of York; + The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester; + William of Windsor was the seventh and last. + Edward the Black Prince died before his father + And left behind him Richard, his only son, + Who, after Edward the Third's death, reign'd as king + Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster, + The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, + Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth, + Seiz'd on the realm, depos'd the rightful king, + Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came. + And him to Pomfret, where, as all you know, + Harmless Richard was murdered traitorously. + WARWICK. Father, the Duke hath told the truth; + Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown. + YORK. Which now they hold by force, and not by right; + For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead, + The issue of the next son should have reign'd. + SALISBURY. But William of Hatfield died without an heir. + YORK. The third son, Duke of Clarence, from whose line + I claim the crown, had issue Philippe, a daughter, + Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March; + Edmund had issue, Roger Earl of March; + Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor. + SALISBURY. This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke, + As I have read, laid claim unto the crown; + And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king, + Who kept him in captivity till he died. + But, to the rest. + YORK. His eldest sister, Anne, + My mother, being heir unto the crown, + Married Richard Earl of Cambridge, who was + To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth son, son. + By her I claim the kingdom: she was heir + To Roger Earl of March, who was the son + Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Philippe, + Sole daughter unto Lionel Duke of Clarence; + So, if the issue of the elder son + Succeed before the younger, I am King. + WARWICK. What plain proceedings is more plain than this? + Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, + The fourth son: York claims it from the third. + Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign. + It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee + And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. + Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together, + And in this private plot be we the first + That shall salute our rightful sovereign + With honour of his birthright to the crown. + BOTH. Long live our sovereign Richard, England's King! + YORK. We thank you, lords. But I am not your king + Till I be crown'd, and that my sword be stain'd + With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster; + And that's not suddenly to be perform'd, + But with advice and silent secrecy. + Do you as I do in these dangerous days: + Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence, + At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition, + At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, + Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock, + That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey; + 'Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking that, + Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy. + SALISBURY. My lord, break we off; we know your mind at full. + WARWICK. My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick + Shall one day make the Duke of York a king. + YORK. And, Nevil, this I do assure myself, + Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick + The greatest man in England but the King. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +London. A hall of justice + +Sound trumpets. Enter the KING and State: the QUEEN, GLOUCESTER, YORK, +SUFFOLK, and SALISBURY, with guard, to banish the DUCHESS. Enter, guarded, +the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER, MARGERY JOURDAIN, HUME, SOUTHWELL, and BOLINGBROKE + + KING HENRY. Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester's wife: + In sight of God and us, your guilt is great; + Receive the sentence of the law for sins + Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death. + You four, from hence to prison back again; + From thence unto the place of execution: + The witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes, + And you three shall be strangled on the gallows. + You, madam, for you are more nobly born, + Despoiled of your honour in your life, + Shall, after three days' open penance done, + Live in your country here in banishment + With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man. + DUCHESS. Welcome is banishment; welcome were my death. + GLOUCESTER. Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee. + I cannot justify whom the law condemns. + Exeunt the DUCHESS and the other prisoners, guarded + Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. + Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age + Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground! + I beseech your Majesty give me leave to go; + Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease. + KING HENRY. Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester; ere thou go, + Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself + Protector be; and God shall be my hope, + My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet. + And go in peace, Humphrey, no less belov'd + Than when thou wert Protector to thy King. + QUEEN. I see no reason why a king of years + Should be to be protected like a child. + God and King Henry govern England's realm! + Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm. + GLOUCESTER. My staff! Here, noble Henry, is my staff. + As willingly do I the same resign + As ere thy father Henry made it mine; + And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it + As others would ambitiously receive it. + Farewell, good King; when I am dead and gone, + May honourable peace attend thy throne! Exit + QUEEN. Why, now is Henry King, and Margaret Queen, + And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself, + That bears so shrewd a maim: two pulls at once- + His lady banish'd and a limb lopp'd off. + This staff of honour raught, there let it stand + Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand. + SUFFOLK. Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays; + Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days. + YORK. Lords, let him go. Please it your Majesty, + This is the day appointed for the combat; + And ready are the appellant and defendant, + The armourer and his man, to enter the lists, + So please your Highness to behold the fight. + QUEEN. Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore + Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried. + KING HENRY. A God's name, see the lists and all things fit; + Here let them end it, and God defend the right! + YORK. I never saw a fellow worse bested, + Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, + The servant of his armourer, my lords. + + Enter at one door, HORNER, the Armourer, and his + NEIGHBOURS, drinking to him so much that he is + drunk; and he enters with a drum before him and + his staff with a sand-bag fastened to it; and at the + other door PETER, his man, with a drum and sandbag, + and PRENTICES drinking to him + + FIRST NEIGHBOUR. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of + sack; and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough. + SECOND NEIGHBOUR. And here, neighbour, here's a cup of charneco. + THIRD NEIGHBOUR. And here's a pot of good double beer, neighbour; + drink, and fear not your man. + HORNER. Let it come, i' faith, and I'll pledge you all; and a fig + for Peter! + FIRST PRENTICE. Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be not afraid. + SECOND PRENTICE. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master: fight + for credit of the prentices. + PETER. I thank you all. Drink, and pray for me, I pray you; for I + think I have taken my last draught in this world. Here, Robin, an + if I die, I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my + hammer; and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. O Lord + bless me, I pray God! for I am never able to deal with my master, + he hath learnt so much fence already. + SALISBURY. Come, leave your drinking and fall to blows. + Sirrah, what's thy name? + PETER. Peter, forsooth. + SALISBURY. Peter? What more? + PETER. Thump. + SALISBURY. Thump? Then see thou thump thy master well. + HORNER. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's + instigation, to prove him a knave and myself an honest man; and + touching the Duke of York, I will take my death I never meant him + any ill, nor the King, nor the Queen; and therefore, Peter, have + at thee with a down right blow! + YORK. Dispatch- this knave's tongue begins to double. + Sound, trumpets, alarum to the combatants! + [Alarum. They fight and PETER strikes him down] + HORNER. Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason. + [Dies] + YORK. Take away his weapon. Fellow, thank God, and the good wine in + thy master's way. + PETER. O God, have I overcome mine enemies in this presence? O + Peter, thou hast prevail'd in right! + KING HENRY. Go, take hence that traitor from our sight, + For by his death we do perceive his guilt; + And God in justice hath reveal'd to us + The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, + Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully. + Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. + Sound a flourish. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +London. A street + +Enter DUKE HUMPHREY and his men, in mourning cloaks + + GLOUCESTER. Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud, + And after summer evermore succeeds + Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold; + So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet. + Sirs, what's o'clock? + SERVING-MAN. Ten, my lord. + GLOUCESTER. Ten is the hour that was appointed me + To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess. + Uneath may she endure the flinty streets + To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. + Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook + The abject people gazing on thy face, + With envious looks, laughing at thy shame, + That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels + When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets. + But, soft! I think she comes, and I'll prepare + My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries. + + Enter the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER in a white sheet, + and a taper burning in her hand, with SIR JOHN + STANLEY, the SHERIFF, and OFFICERS + + SERVING-MAN. So please your Grace, we'll take her from the sheriff. + GLOUCESTER. No, stir not for your lives; let her pass by. + DUCHESS. Come you, my lord, to see my open shame? + Now thou dost penance too. Look how they gaze! + See how the giddy multitude do point + And nod their heads and throw their eyes on thee; + Ah, Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful looks, + And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame + And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine! + GLOUCESTER. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief. + DUCHESS. Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself! + For whilst I think I am thy married wife + And thou a prince, Protector of this land, + Methinks I should not thus be led along, + Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back, + And follow'd with a rabble that rejoice + To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans. + The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet, + And when I start, the envious people laugh + And bid me be advised how I tread. + Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke? + Trowest thou that e'er I'll look upon the world + Or count them happy that enjoy the sun? + No; dark shall be my light and night my day; + To think upon my pomp shall be my hell. + Sometimes I'll say I am Duke Humphrey's wife, + And he a prince, and ruler of the land; + Yet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was, + As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn duchess, + Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock + To every idle rascal follower. + But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame, + Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death + Hang over thee, as sure it shortly will. + For Suffolk- he that can do all in all + With her that hateth thee and hates us all- + And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest, + Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings, + And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee. + But fear not thou until thy foot be snar'd, + Nor never seek prevention of thy foes. + GLOUCESTER. Ah, Nell, forbear! Thou aimest all awry. + I must offend before I be attainted; + And had I twenty times so many foes, + And each of them had twenty times their power, + All these could not procure me any scathe + So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. + Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach? + Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away, + But I in danger for the breach of law. + Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell. + I pray thee sort thy heart to patience; + These few days' wonder will be quickly worn. + + Enter a HERALD + + HERALD. I summon your Grace to his Majesty's Parliament, + Holden at Bury the first of this next month. + GLOUCESTER. And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before! + This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. Exit HERALD + My Nell, I take my leave- and, master sheriff, + Let not her penance exceed the King's commission. + SHERIFF. An't please your Grace, here my commission stays; + And Sir John Stanley is appointed now + To take her with him to the Isle of Man. + GLOUCESTER. Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here? + STANLEY. So am I given in charge, may't please your Grace. + GLOUCESTER. Entreat her not the worse in that I pray + You use her well; the world may laugh again, + And I may live to do you kindness if + You do it her. And so, Sir John, farewell. + DUCHESS. What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell! + GLOUCESTER. Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. + Exeunt GLOUCESTER and servants + DUCHESS. Art thou gone too? All comfort go with thee! + For none abides with me. My joy is death- + Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard, + Because I wish'd this world's eternity. + Stanley, I prithee go, and take me hence; + I care not whither, for I beg no favour, + Only convey me where thou art commanded. + STANLEY. Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man, + There to be us'd according to your state. + DUCHESS. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach- + And shall I then be us'd reproachfully? + STANLEY. Like to a duchess and Duke Humphrey's lady; + According to that state you shall be us'd. + DUCHESS. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare, + Although thou hast been conduct of my shame. + SHERIFF. It is my office; and, madam, pardon me. + DUCHESS. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharg'd. + Come, Stanley, shall we go? + STANLEY. Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet, + And go we to attire you for our journey. + DUCHESS. My shame will not be shifted with my sheet. + No, it will hang upon my richest robes + And show itself, attire me how I can. + Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +The Abbey at Bury St. Edmunds + +Sound a sennet. Enter the KING, the QUEEN, CARDINAL, SUFFOLK, YORK, +BUCKINGHAM, SALISBURY, and WARWICK, to the Parliament + + KING HENRY. I muse my Lord of Gloucester is not come. + 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, + Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now. + QUEEN. Can you not see, or will ye not observe + The strangeness of his alter'd countenance? + With what a majesty he bears himself; + How insolent of late he is become, + How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself? + We know the time since he was mild and affable, + And if we did but glance a far-off look + Immediately he was upon his knee, + That all the court admir'd him for submission. + But meet him now and be it in the morn, + When every one will give the time of day, + He knits his brow and shows an angry eye + And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee, + Disdaining duty that to us belongs. + Small curs are not regarded when they grin, + But great men tremble when the lion roars, + And Humphrey is no little man in England. + First note that he is near you in descent, + And should you fall he is the next will mount; + Me seemeth, then, it is no policy- + Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears, + And his advantage following your decease- + That he should come about your royal person + Or be admitted to your Highness' Council. + By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts; + And when he please to make commotion, + 'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him. + Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; + Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden + And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. + The reverent care I bear unto my lord + Made me collect these dangers in the Duke. + If it be fond, can it a woman's fear; + Which fear if better reasons can supplant, + I will subscribe, and say I wrong'd the Duke. + My Lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, + Reprove my allegation if you can, + Or else conclude my words effectual. + SUFFOLK. Well hath your Highness seen into this duke; + And had I first been put to speak my mind, + I think I should have told your Grace's tale. + The Duchess, by his subornation, + Upon my life, began her devilish practices; + Or if he were not privy to those faults, + Yet by reputing of his high descent- + As next the King he was successive heir- + And such high vaunts of his nobility, + Did instigate the bedlam brainsick Duchess + By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall. + Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep, + And in his simple show he harbours treason. + The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb. + No, no, my sovereign, Gloucester is a man + Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit. + CARDINAL. Did he not, contrary to form of law, + Devise strange deaths for small offences done? + YORK. And did he not, in his protectorship, + Levy great sums of money through the realm + For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it? + By means whereof the towns each day revolted. + BUCKINGHAM. Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown + Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey. + KING HENRY. My lords, at once: the care you have of us, + To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot, + Is worthy praise; but shall I speak my conscience? + Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent + From meaning treason to our royal person + As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove: + The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given + To dream on evil or to work my downfall. + QUEEN. Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance? + Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrow'd, + For he's disposed as the hateful raven. + Is he a lamb? His skin is surely lent him, + For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf. + Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit? + Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all + Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. + + Enter SOMERSET + + SOMERSET. All health unto my gracious sovereign! + KING HENRY. Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France? + SOMERSET. That all your interest in those territories + Is utterly bereft you; all is lost. + KING HENRY. Cold news, Lord Somerset; but God's will be done! + YORK. [Aside] Cold news for me; for I had hope of France + As firmly as I hope for fertile England. + Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud, + And caterpillars eat my leaves away; + But I will remedy this gear ere long, + Or sell my title for a glorious grave. + + Enter GLOUCESTER + + GLOUCESTER. All happiness unto my lord the King! + Pardon, my liege, that I have stay'd so long. + SUFFOLK. Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art come too soon, + Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art. + I do arrest thee of high treason here. + GLOUCESTER. Well, Suffolk, thou shalt not see me blush + Nor change my countenance for this arrest: + A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. + The purest spring is not so free from mud + As I am clear from treason to my sovereign. + Who can accuse me? Wherein am I guilty? + YORK. 'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France + And, being Protector, stay'd the soldiers' pay; + By means whereof his Highness hath lost France. + GLOUCESTER. Is it but thought so? What are they that think it? + I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay + Nor ever had one penny bribe from France. + So help me God, as I have watch'd the night- + Ay, night by night- in studying good for England! + That doit that e'er I wrested from the King, + Or any groat I hoarded to my use, + Be brought against me at my trial-day! + No; many a pound of mine own proper store, + Because I would not tax the needy commons, + Have I dispursed to the garrisons, + And never ask'd for restitution. + CARDINAL. It serves you well, my lord, to say so much. + GLOUCESTER. I say no more than truth, so help me God! + YORK. In your protectorship you did devise + Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of, + That England was defam'd by tyranny. + GLOUCESTER. Why, 'tis well known that whiles I was Protector + Pity was all the fault that was in me; + For I should melt at an offender's tears, + And lowly words were ransom for their fault. + Unless it were a bloody murderer, + Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers, + I never gave them condign punishment. + Murder indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd + Above the felon or what trespass else. + SUFFOLK. My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answer'd; + But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge, + Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself. + I do arrest you in His Highness' name, + And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal + To keep until your further time of trial. + KING HENRY. My Lord of Gloucester, 'tis my special hope + That you will clear yourself from all suspense. + My conscience tells me you are innocent. + GLOUCESTER. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous! + Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition, + And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand; + Foul subornation is predominant, + And equity exil'd your Highness' land. + I know their complot is to have my life; + And if my death might make this island happy + And prove the period of their tyranny, + I would expend it with all willingness. + But mine is made the prologue to their play; + For thousands more that yet suspect no peril + Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. + Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice, + And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate; + Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue + The envious load that lies upon his heart; + And dogged York, that reaches at the moon, + Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back, + By false accuse doth level at my life. + And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, + Causeless have laid disgraces on my head, + And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up + My liefest liege to be mine enemy; + Ay, all of you have laid your heads together- + Myself had notice of your conventicles- + And all to make away my guiltless life. + I shall not want false witness to condemn me + Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt. + The ancient proverb will be well effected: + 'A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.' + CARDINAL. My liege, his railing is intolerable. + If those that care to keep your royal person + From treason's secret knife and traitor's rage + Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, + And the offender granted scope of speech, + 'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace. + SUFFOLK. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here + With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd, + As if she had suborned some to swear + False allegations to o'erthrow his state? + QUEEN. But I can give the loser leave to chide. + GLOUCESTER. Far truer spoke than meant: I lose indeed. + Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false! + And well such losers may have leave to speak. + BUCKINGHAM. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day. + Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner. + CARDINAL. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure. + GLOUCESTER. Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch + Before his legs be firm to bear his body! + Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, + And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first. + Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were! + For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. Exit, guarded + KING HENRY. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best + Do or undo, as if ourself were here. + QUEEN. What, will your Highness leave the Parliament? + KING HENRY. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief, + Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes; + My body round engirt with misery- + For what's more miserable than discontent? + Ah, uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see + The map of honour, truth, and loyalty! + And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come + That e'er I prov'd thee false or fear'd thy faith. + What louring star now envies thy estate + That these great lords, and Margaret our Queen, + Do seek subversion of thy harmless life? + Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong; + And as the butcher takes away the calf, + And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays, + Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house, + Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence; + And as the dam runs lowing up and down, + Looking the way her harmless young one went, + And can do nought but wail her darling's loss, + Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case + With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimm'd eyes + Look after him, and cannot do him good, + So mighty are his vowed enemies. + His fortunes I will weep, and 'twixt each groan + Say 'Who's a traitor? Gloucester he is none.' Exit + QUEEN. Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams: + Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, + Too full of foolish pity; and Gloucester's show + Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile + With sorrow snares relenting passengers; + Or as the snake, roll'd in a flow'ring bank, + With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child + That for the beauty thinks it excellent. + Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I- + And yet herein I judge mine own wit good- + This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world + To rid us from the fear we have of him. + CARDINAL. That he should die is worthy policy; + But yet we want a colour for his death. + 'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law. + SUFFOLK. But, in my mind, that were no policy: + The King will labour still to save his life; + The commons haply rise to save his life; + And yet we have but trivial argument, + More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death. + YORK. So that, by this, you would not have him die. + SUFFOLK. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I! + YORK. 'Tis York that hath more reason for his death. + But, my Lord Cardinal, and you, my Lord of Suffolk, + Say as you think, and speak it from your souls: + Were't not all one an empty eagle were set + To guard the chicken from a hungry kite + As place Duke Humphrey for the King's Protector? + QUEEN. So the poor chicken should be sure of death. + SUFFOLK. Madam, 'tis true; and were't not madness then + To make the fox surveyor of the fold? + Who being accus'd a crafty murderer, + His guilt should be but idly posted over, + Because his purpose is not executed. + No; let him die, in that he is a fox, + By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock, + Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood, + As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege. + And do not stand on quillets how to slay him; + Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety, + Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how, + So he be dead; for that is good deceit + Which mates him first that first intends deceit. + QUEEN. Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke. + SUFFOLK. Not resolute, except so much were done, + For things are often spoke and seldom meant; + But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, + Seeing the deed is meritorious, + And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, + Say but the word, and I will be his priest. + CARDINAL. But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk, + Ere you can take due orders for a priest; + Say you consent and censure well the deed, + And I'll provide his executioner- + I tender so the safety of my liege. + SUFFOLK. Here is my hand the deed is worthy doing. + QUEEN. And so say I. + YORK. And I. And now we three have spoke it, + It skills not greatly who impugns our doom. + + Enter a POST + + POST. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain + To signify that rebels there are up + And put the Englishmen unto the sword. + Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime, + Before the wound do grow uncurable; + For, being green, there is great hope of help. + CARDINAL. A breach that craves a quick expedient stop! + What counsel give you in this weighty cause? + YORK. That Somerset be sent as Regent thither; + 'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd, + Witness the fortune he hath had in France. + SOMERSET. If York, with all his far-fet policy, + Had been the Regent there instead of me, + He never would have stay'd in France so long. + YORK. No, not to lose it all as thou hast done. + I rather would have lost my life betimes + Than bring a burden of dishonour home + By staying there so long till all were lost. + Show me one scar character'd on thy skin: + Men's flesh preserv'd so whole do seldom win. + QUEEN. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging fire, + If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with; + No more, good York; sweet Somerset, be still. + Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been Regent there, + Might happily have prov'd far worse than his. + YORK. What, worse than nought? Nay, then a shame take all! + SOMERSET. And in the number, thee that wishest shame! + CARDINAL. My Lord of York, try what your fortune is. + Th' uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms + And temper clay with blood of Englishmen; + To Ireland will you lead a band of men, + Collected choicely, from each county some, + And try your hap against the Irishmen? + YORK. I will, my lord, so please his Majesty. + SUFFOLK. Why, our authority is his consent, + And what we do establish he confirms; + Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand. + YORK. I am content; provide me soldiers, lords, + Whiles I take order for mine own affairs. + SUFFOLK. A charge, Lord York, that I will see perform'd. + But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey. + CARDINAL. No more of him; for I will deal with him + That henceforth he shall trouble us no more. + And so break off; the day is almost spent. + Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event. + YORK. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days + At Bristol I expect my soldiers; + For there I'll ship them all for Ireland. + SUFFOLK. I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York. + Exeunt all but YORK + YORK. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts + And change misdoubt to resolution; + Be that thou hop'st to be; or what thou art + Resign to death- it is not worth th' enjoying. + Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man + And find no harbour in a royal heart. + Faster than spring-time show'rs comes thought on thought, + And not a thought but thinks on dignity. + My brain, more busy than the labouring spider, + Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. + Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done + To send me packing with an host of men. + I fear me you but warm the starved snake, + Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts. + 'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me; + I take it kindly. Yet be well assur'd + You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands. + Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, + I will stir up in England some black storm + Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell; + And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage + Until the golden circuit on my head, + Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, + Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw. + And for a minister of my intent + I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman, + John Cade of Ashford, + To make commotion, as full well he can, + Under the tide of John Mortimer. + In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade + Oppose himself against a troop of kerns, + And fought so long tiff that his thighs with darts + Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine; + And in the end being rescu'd, I have seen + Him caper upright like a wild Morisco, + Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells. + Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern, + Hath he conversed with the enemy, + And undiscover'd come to me again + And given me notice of their villainies. + This devil here shall be my substitute; + For that John Mortimer, which now is dead, + In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble. + By this I shall perceive the commons' mind, + How they affect the house and claim of York. + Say he be taken, rack'd, and tortured; + I know no pain they can inflict upon him + Will make him say I mov'd him to those arms. + Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will, + Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength, + And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd; + For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, + And Henry put apart, the next for me. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Bury St. Edmunds. A room of state + +Enter two or three MURDERERS running over the stage, +from the murder of DUKE HUMPHREY + + FIRST MURDERER. Run to my Lord of Suffolk; let him know + We have dispatch'd the Duke, as he commanded. + SECOND MURDERER. O that it were to do! What have we done? + Didst ever hear a man so penitent? + + Enter SUFFOLK + + FIRST MURDERER. Here comes my lord. + SUFFOLK. Now, sirs, have you dispatch'd this thing? + FIRST MURDERER. Ay, my good lord, he's dead. + SUFFOLK. Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my house; + I will reward you for this venturous deed. + The King and all the peers are here at hand. + Have you laid fair the bed? Is all things well, + According as I gave directions? + FIRST MURDERER. 'Tis, my good lord. + SUFFOLK. Away! be gone. Exeunt MURDERERS + + Sound trumpets. Enter the KING, the QUEEN, + CARDINAL, SOMERSET, with attendants + + KING HENRY. Go call our uncle to our presence straight; + Say we intend to try his Grace to-day, + If he be guilty, as 'tis published. + SUFFOLK. I'll call him presently, my noble lord. Exit + KING HENRY. Lords, take your places; and, I pray you all, + Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloucester + Than from true evidence, of good esteem, + He be approv'd in practice culpable. + QUEEN. God forbid any malice should prevail + That faultless may condemn a nobleman! + Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion! + KING HENRY. I thank thee, Meg; these words content me much. + + Re-enter SUFFOLK + + How now! Why look'st thou pale? Why tremblest thou? + Where is our uncle? What's the matter, Suffolk? + SUFFOLK. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloucester is dead. + QUEEN. Marry, God forfend! + CARDINAL. God's secret judgment! I did dream to-night + The Duke was dumb and could not speak a word. + [The KING swoons] + QUEEN. How fares my lord? Help, lords! The King is dead. + SOMERSET. Rear up his body; wring him by the nose. + QUEEN. Run, go, help, help! O Henry, ope thine eyes! + SUFFOLK. He doth revive again; madam, be patient. + KING. O heavenly God! + QUEEN. How fares my gracious lord? + SUFFOLK. Comfort, my sovereign! Gracious Henry, comfort! + KING HENRY. What, doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me? + Came he right now to sing a raven's note, + Whose dismal tune bereft my vital pow'rs; + And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, + By crying comfort from a hollow breast, + Can chase away the first conceived sound? + Hide not thy poison with such sug'red words; + Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say, + Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting. + Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! + Upon thy eye-balls murderous tyranny + Sits in grim majesty to fright the world. + Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding; + Yet do not go away; come, basilisk, + And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight; + For in the shade of death I shall find joy- + In life but double death,'now Gloucester's dead. + QUEEN. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus? + Although the Duke was enemy to him, + Yet he most Christian-like laments his death; + And for myself- foe as he was to me- + Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, + Or blood-consuming sighs, recall his life, + I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, + Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs, + And all to have the noble Duke alive. + What know I how the world may deem of me? + For it is known we were but hollow friends: + It may be judg'd I made the Duke away; + So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded, + And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach. + This get I by his death. Ay me, unhappy! + To be a queen and crown'd with infamy! + KING HENRY. Ah, woe is me for Gloucester, wretched man! + QUEEN. Be woe for me, more wretched than he is. + What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face? + I am no loathsome leper- look on me. + What, art thou like the adder waxen deaf? + Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn Queen. + Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's tomb? + Why, then Dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy. + Erect his statue and worship it, + And make my image but an alehouse sign. + Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea, + And twice by awkward wind from England's bank + Drove back again unto my native clime? + What boded this but well-forewarning wind + Did seem to say 'Seek not a scorpion's nest, + Nor set no footing on this unkind shore'? + What did I then but curs'd the gentle gusts, + And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves; + And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore, + Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock? + Yet Aeolus would not be a murderer, + But left that hateful office unto thee. + The pretty-vaulting sea refus'd to drown me, + Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd on shore + With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness; + The splitting rocks cow'r'd in the sinking sands + And would not dash me with their ragged sides, + Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, + Might in thy palace perish Margaret. + As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, + When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, + I stood upon the hatches in the storm; + And when the dusky sky began to rob + My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, + I took a costly jewel from my neck- + A heart it was, bound in with diamonds- + And threw it towards thy land. The sea receiv'd it; + And so I wish'd thy body might my heart. + And even with this I lost fair England's view, + And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart, + And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles + For losing ken of Albion's wished coast. + How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue- + The agent of thy foul inconstancy- + To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did + When he to madding Dido would unfold + His father's acts commenc'd in burning Troy! + Am I not witch'd like her? Or thou not false like him? + Ay me, I can no more! Die, Margaret, + For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. + + Noise within. Enter WARWICK, SALISBURY, + and many commons + + WARWICK. It is reported, mighty sovereign, + That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is murd'red + By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means. + The commons, like an angry hive of bees + That want their leader, scatter up and down + And care not who they sting in his revenge. + Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny + Until they hear the order of his death. + KING HENRY. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true; + But how he died God knows, not Henry. + Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, + And comment then upon his sudden death. + WARWICK. That shall I do, my liege. Stay, Salisbury, + With the rude multitude till I return. Exit + Exit SALISBURY with the commons + KING HENRY. O Thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts- + My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul + Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life! + If my suspect be false, forgive me, God; + For judgment only doth belong to Thee. + Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips + With twenty thousand kisses and to drain + Upon his face an ocean of salt tears + To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk; + And with my fingers feel his hand un-feeling; + But all in vain are these mean obsequies; + And to survey his dead and earthy image, + What were it but to make my sorrow greater? + + Bed put forth with the body. Enter WARWICK + + WARWICK. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body. + KING HENRY. That is to see how deep my grave is made; + For with his soul fled all my worldly solace, + For, seeing him, I see my life in death. + WARWICK. As surely as my soul intends to live + With that dread King that took our state upon Him + To free us from his Father's wrathful curse, + I do believe that violent hands were laid + Upon the life of this thrice-famed Duke. + SUFFOLK. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue! + What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow? + WARWICK. See how the blood is settled in his face. + Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, + Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, + Being all descended to the labouring heart, + Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, + Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy, + Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er returneth + To blush and beautify the cheek again. + But see, his face is black and full of blood; + His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd, + Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; + His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling; + His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd + And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd. + Look, on the sheets his hair, you see, is sticking; + His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged, + Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged. + It cannot be but he was murd'red here: + The least of all these signs were probable. + SUFFOLK. Why, Warwick, who should do the Duke to death? + Myself and Beaufort had him in protection; + And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers. + WARWICK. But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's foes; + And you, forsooth, had the good Duke to keep. + 'Tis like you would not feast him like a friend; + And 'tis well seen he found an enemy. + QUEEN. Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen + As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death. + WARWICK. Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, + And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, + But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter? + Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest + But may imagine how the bird was dead, + Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? + Even so suspicious is this tragedy. + QUEEN. Are you the butcher, Suffolk? Where's your knife? + Is Beaufort term'd a kite? Where are his talons? + SUFFOLK. I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men; + But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, + That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart + That slanders me with murder's crimson badge. + Say if thou dar'st, proud Lord of Warwickshire, + That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death. + Exeunt CARDINAL, SOMERSET, and others + WARWICK. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him? + QUEEN. He dares not calm his contumelious spirit, + Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, + Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times. + WARWICK. Madam, be still- with reverence may I say; + For every word you speak in his behalf + Is slander to your royal dignity. + SUFFOLK. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour, + If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, + Thy mother took into her blameful bed + Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock + Was graft with crab-tree slip, whose fruit thou art, + And never of the Nevils' noble race. + WARWICK. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee, + And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, + Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, + And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild, + I would, false murd'rous coward, on thy knee + Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech + And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st, + That thou thyself was born in bastardy; + And, after all this fearful homage done, + Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell, + Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men. + SUFFOLK. Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood, + If from this presence thou dar'st go with me. + WARWICK. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence. + Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee, + And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost. + Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK + KING HENRY. What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted? + Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just; + And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. + [A noise within] + QUEEN. What noise is this? + + Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their weapons drawn + + KING. Why, how now, lords, your wrathful weapons drawn + Here in our presence! Dare you be so bold? + Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here? + SUFFOLK. The trait'rous Warwick, with the men of Bury, + Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. + + Re-enter SALISBURY + + SALISBURY. [To the Commons within] Sirs, stand apart, the King + shall know your mind. + Dread lord, the commons send you word by me + Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death, + Or banished fair England's territories, + They will by violence tear him from your palace + And torture him with grievous ling'ring death. + They say by him the good Duke Humphrey died; + They say in him they fear your Highness' death; + And mere instinct of love and loyalty, + Free from a stubborn opposite intent, + As being thought to contradict your liking, + Makes them thus forward in his banishment. + They say, in care of your most royal person, + That if your Highness should intend to sleep + And charge that no man should disturb your rest, + In pain of your dislike or pain of death, + Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict, + Were there a serpent seen with forked tongue + That slily glided towards your Majesty, + It were but necessary you were wak'd, + Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber, + The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal. + And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, + That they will guard you, whe'er you will or no, + From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is; + With whose envenomed and fatal sting + Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth, + They say, is shamefully bereft of life. + COMMONS. [Within] An answer from the King, my Lord of Salisbury! + SUFFOLK. 'Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds, + Could send such message to their sovereign; + But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd, + To show how quaint an orator you are. + But all the honour Salisbury hath won + Is that he was the lord ambassador + Sent from a sort of tinkers to the King. + COMMONS. [Within] An answer from the King, or we will all break in! + KING HENRY. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me + I thank them for their tender loving care; + And had I not been cited so by them, + Yet did I purpose as they do entreat; + For sure my thoughts do hourly prophesy + Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means. + And therefore by His Majesty I swear, + Whose far unworthy deputy I am, + He shall not breathe infection in this air + But three days longer, on the pain of death. + Exit SALISBURY + QUEEN. O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk! + KING HENRY. Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle Suffolk! + No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him, + Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath. + Had I but said, I would have kept my word; + But when I swear, it is irrevocable. + If after three days' space thou here be'st found + On any ground that I am ruler of, + The world shall not be ransom for thy life. + Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me; + I have great matters to impart to thee. + Exeunt all but QUEEN and SUFFOLK + QUEEN. Mischance and sorrow go along with you! + Heart's discontent and sour affliction + Be playfellows to keep you company! + There's two of you; the devil make a third, + And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps! + SUFFOLK. Cease, gentle Queen, these execrations, + And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. + QUEEN. Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch, + Has thou not spirit to curse thine enemy? + SUFFOLK. A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them? + Would curses kill as doth the mandrake's groan, + I would invent as bitter searching terms, + As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, + Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, + With full as many signs of deadly hate, + As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave. + My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words, + Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint, + Mine hair be fix'd an end, as one distract; + Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban; + And even now my burden'd heart would break, + Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink! + Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste! + Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees! + Their chiefest prospect murd'ring basilisks! + Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings! + Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss, + And boding screech-owls make the consort full! + all the foul terrors in dark-seated hell- + QUEEN. Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyself; + And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass, + Or like an overcharged gun, recoil, + And turns the force of them upon thyself. + SUFFOLK. You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave? + Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, + Well could I curse away a winter's night, + Though standing naked on a mountain top + Where biting cold would never let grass grow, + And think it but a minute spent in sport. + QUEEN. O, let me entreat thee cease! Give me thy hand, + That I may dew it with my mournful tears; + Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place + To wash away my woeful monuments. + O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand, + That thou might'st think upon these by the seal, + Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee! + So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief; + 'Tis but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by, + As one that surfeits thinking on a want. + I will repeal thee or, be well assur'd, + Adventure to be banished myself; + And banished I am, if but from thee. + Go, speak not to me; even now be gone. + O, go not yet! Even thus two friends condemn'd + Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, + Loather a hundred times to part than die. + Yet now, farewell; and farewell life with thee! + SUFFOLK. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, + Once by the King and three times thrice by thee, + 'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence; + A wilderness is populous enough, + So Suffolk had thy heavenly company; + For where thou art, there is the world itself, + With every several pleasure in the world; + And where thou art not, desolation. + I can no more: Live thou to joy thy life; + Myself no joy in nought but that thou liv'st. + + Enter VAUX + + QUEEN. Whither goes Vaux so fast? What news, I prithee? + VAUX. To signify unto his Majesty + That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death; + For suddenly a grievous sickness took him + That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the air, + Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. + Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost + Were by his side; sometime he calls the King + And whispers to his pillow, as to him, + The secrets of his overcharged soul; + And I am sent to tell his Majesty + That even now he cries aloud for him. + QUEEN. Go tell this heavy message to the King. Exit VAUX + Ay me! What is this world! What news are these! + But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, + Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure? + Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, + And with the southern clouds contend in tears- + Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows? + Now get thee hence: the King, thou know'st, is coming; + If thou be found by me; thou art but dead. + SUFFOLK. If I depart from thee I cannot live; + And in thy sight to die, what were it else + But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? + Here could I breathe my soul into the air, + As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe + Dying with mother's dug between its lips; + Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad + And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, + To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth; + So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul, + Or I should breathe it so into thy body, + And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium. + To die by thee were but to die in jest: + From thee to die were torture more than death. + O, let me stay, befall what may befall! + QUEEN. Away! Though parting be a fretful corrosive, + It is applied to a deathful wound. + To France, sweet Suffolk. Let me hear from thee; + For whereso'er thou art in this world's globe + I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out. + SUFFOLK. I go. + QUEEN. And take my heart with thee. [She kisses him] + SUFFOLK. A jewel, lock'd into the woefull'st cask + That ever did contain a thing of worth. + Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we: + This way fall I to death. + QUEEN. This way for me. Exeunt severally + + + + +SCENE III. +London. CARDINAL BEAUFORT'S bedchamber + +Enter the KING, SALISBURY, and WARWICK, to the CARDINAL in bed + + KING HENRY. How fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign. + CARDINAL. If thou be'st Death I'll give thee England's treasure, + Enough to purchase such another island, + So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain. + KING HENRY. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life + Where death's approach is seen so terrible! + WARWICK. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee. + CARDINAL. Bring me unto my trial when you will. + Died he not in his bed? Where should he die? + Can I make men live, whe'er they will or no? + O, torture me no more! I will confess. + Alive again? Then show me where he is; + I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. + He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. + Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright, + Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul! + Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary + Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. + KING HENRY. O Thou eternal Mover of the heavens, + Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch! + O, beat away the busy meddling fiend + That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, + And from his bosom purge this black despair! + WARWICK. See how the pangs of death do make him grin + SALISBURY. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably. + KING HENRY. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be! + Lord Card'nal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, + Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. + He dies, and makes no sign: O God, forgive him! + WARWICK. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. + KING HENRY. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. + Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close; + And let us all to meditation. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +The coast of Kent + +Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a LIEUTENANT, +a SHIPMASTER and his MATE, and WALTER WHITMORE, with sailors; +SUFFOLK and other GENTLEMEN, as prisoners + + LIEUTENANT. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day + Is crept into the bosom of the sea; + And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades + That drag the tragic melancholy night; + Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings + Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws + Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. + Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize; + For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, + Here shall they make their ransom on the sand, + Or with their blood stain this discoloured shore. + Master, this prisoner freely give I thee; + And thou that art his mate make boot of this; + The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. What is my ransom, master, let me know? + MASTER. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. + MATE. And so much shall you give, or off goes yours. + LIEUTENANT. What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns, + And bear the name and port of gentlemen? + Cut both the villains' throats- for die you shall; + The lives of those which we have lost in fight + Be counterpois'd with such a petty sum! + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I'll give it, sir: and therefore spare my life. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. And so will I, and write home for it straight. + WHITMORE. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, + [To SUFFOLK] And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die; + And so should these, if I might have my will. + LIEUTENANT. Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live. + SUFFOLK. Look on my George, I am a gentleman: + Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. + WHITMORE. And so am I: my name is Walter Whitmore. + How now! Why start'st thou? What, doth death affright? + SUFFOLK. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death. + A cunning man did calculate my birth + And told me that by water I should die; + Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded; + Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded. + WHITMORE. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not: + Never yet did base dishonour blur our name + But with our sword we wip'd away the blot; + Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge, + Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd, + And I proclaim'd a coward through the world. + SUFFOLK. Stay, Whitmore, for thy prisoner is a prince, + The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. + WHITMORE. The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags? + SUFFOLK. Ay, but these rags are no part of the Duke: + Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I? + LIEUTENANT. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. + SUFFOLK. Obscure and lowly swain, King Henry's blood, + The honourable blood of Lancaster, + Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. + Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand and held my stirrup, + Bareheaded plodded by my foot-cloth mule, + And thought thee happy when I shook my head? + How often hast thou waited at my cup, + Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board, + When I have feasted with Queen Margaret? + Remember it, and let it make thee crestfall'n, + Ay, and allay thus thy abortive pride, + How in our voiding-lobby hast thou stood + And duly waited for my coming forth. + This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf, + And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue. + WHITMORE. Speak, Captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain? + LIEUTENANT. First let my words stab him, as he hath me. + SUFFOLK. Base slave, thy words are blunt, and so art thou. + LIEUTENANT. Convey him hence, and on our longboat's side + Strike off his head. + SUFFOLK. Thou dar'st not, for thy own. + LIEUTENANT. Poole! + SUFFOLK. Poole? + LIEUTENANT. Ay, kennel, puddle, sink, whose filth and dirt + Troubles the silver spring where England drinks; + Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth + For swallowing the treasure of the realm. + Thy lips, that kiss'd the Queen, shall sweep the ground; + And thou that smil'dst at good Duke Humphrey's death + Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain, + Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again; + And wedded be thou to the hags of hell + For daring to affy a mighty lord + Unto the daughter of a worthless king, + Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. + By devilish policy art thou grown great, + And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd + With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart. + By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France; + The false revolting Normans thorough thee + Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy + Hath slain their governors, surpris'd our forts, + And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. + The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all, + Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain, + As hating thee, are rising up in arms; + And now the house of York- thrust from the crown + By shameful murder of a guiltless king + And lofty proud encroaching tyranny- + Burns with revenging fire, whose hopeful colours + Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine, + Under the which is writ 'Invitis nubibus.' + The commons here in Kent are up in arms; + And to conclude, reproach and beggary + Is crept into the palace of our King, + And all by thee. Away! convey him hence. + SUFFOLK. O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder + Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges! + Small things make base men proud: this villain here, + Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more + Than Bargulus, the strong Illyrian pirate. + Drones suck not eagles' blood but rob beehives. + It is impossible that I should die + By such a lowly vassal as thyself. + Thy words move rage and not remorse in me. + I go of message from the Queen to France: + I charge thee waft me safely cross the Channel. + LIEUTENANT. Walter- + WHITMORE. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death. + SUFFOLK. Gelidus timor occupat artus: it is thee I fear. + WHITMORE. Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee. + What, are ye daunted now? Now will ye stoop? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair. + SUFFOLK. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stem and rough, + Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour. + Far be it we should honour such as these + With humble suit: no, rather let my head + Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any + Save to the God of heaven and to my king; + And sooner dance upon a bloody pole + Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom. + True nobility is exempt from fear: + More can I bear than you dare execute. + LIEUTENANT. Hale him away, and let him talk no more. + SUFFOLK. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can, + That this my death may never be forgot- + Great men oft die by vile bezonians: + A Roman sworder and banditto slave + Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand + Stabb'd Julius Caesar; savage islanders + Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates. + Exit WALTER with SUFFOLK + LIEUTENANT. And as for these, whose ransom we have set, + It is our pleasure one of them depart; + Therefore come you with us, and let him go. + Exeunt all but the FIRST GENTLEMAN + + Re-enter WHITMORE with SUFFOLK'S body + + WHITMORE. There let his head and lifeless body lie, + Until the Queen his mistress bury it. Exit + FIRST GENTLEMAN. O barbarous and bloody spectacle! + His body will I bear unto the King. + If he revenge it not, yet will his friends; + So will the Queen, that living held him dear. + Exit with the body + + + + +SCENE II. +Blackheath + +Enter GEORGE BEVIS and JOHN HOLLAND + + GEORGE. Come and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have + been up these two days. + JOHN. They have the more need to sleep now, then. + GEORGE. I tell thee Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the + commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it. + JOHN. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, I say it was never + merry world in England since gentlemen came up. + GEORGE. O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen. + JOHN. The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons. + GEORGE. Nay, more, the King's Council are no good workmen. + JOHN. True; and yet it is said 'Labour in thy vocation'; which is + as much to say as 'Let the magistrates be labouring men'; and + therefore should we be magistrates. + GEORGE. Thou hast hit it; for there's no better sign of a brave + mind than a hard hand. + JOHN. I see them! I see them! There's Best's son, the tanner of + Wingham- + GEORGE. He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's + leather of. + JOHN. And Dick the butcher- + GEORGE. Then is sin struck down, like an ox, and iniquity's throat + cut like a calf. + JOHN. And Smith the weaver- + GEORGE. Argo, their thread of life is spun. + JOHN. Come, come, let's fall in with them. + + Drum. Enter CADE, DICK THE BUTCHER, SMITH + THE WEAVER, and a SAWYER, with infinite numbers + + CADE. We John Cade, so term'd of our supposed father- + DICK. [Aside] Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings. + CADE. For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the + spirit of putting down kings and princes- command silence. + DICK. Silence! + CADE. My father was a Mortimer- + DICK. [Aside] He was an honest man and a good bricklayer. + CADE. My mother a Plantagenet- + DICK. [Aside] I knew her well; she was a midwife. + CADE. My wife descended of the Lacies- + DICK. [Aside] She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, and sold many + laces. + SMITH. [Aside] But now of late, not able to travel with her furr'd + pack, she washes bucks here at home. + CADE. Therefore am I of an honourable house. + DICK. [Aside] Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable, and there + was he born, under a hedge, for his father had never a house but + the cage. + CADE. Valiant I am. + SMITH. [Aside] 'A must needs; for beggary is valiant. + CADE. I am able to endure much. + DICK. [Aside] No question of that; for I have seen him whipt three + market days together. + CADE. I fear neither sword nor fire. + SMITH. [Aside] He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of + proof. + DICK. [Aside] But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being + burnt i' th' hand for stealing of sheep. + CADE. Be brave, then, for your captain is brave, and vows + reformation. There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves + sold for a penny; the three-hoop'd pot shall have ten hoops; and + I will make it felony to drink small beer. All the realm shall be + in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And + when I am king- as king I will be + ALL. God save your Majesty! + CADE. I thank you, good people- there shall be no money; all shall + eat and drink on my score, and I will apparel them all in one + livery, that they may agree like brothers and worship me their + lord. + DICK. The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. + CADE. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that + of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? That + parchment, being scribbl'd o'er, should undo a man? Some say the + bee stings; but I say 'tis the bee's wax; for I did but seal once + to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. How now! Who's + there? + + Enter some, bringing in the CLERK OF CHATHAM + + SMITH. The clerk of Chatham. He can write and read and cast + accompt. + CADE. O monstrous! + SMITH. We took him setting of boys' copies. + CADE. Here's a villain! + SMITH. Has a book in his pocket with red letters in't. + CADE. Nay, then he is a conjurer. + DICK. Nay, he can make obligations and write court-hand. + CADE. I am sorry for't; the man is a proper man, of mine honour; + unless I find him guilty, he shall not die. Come hither, sirrah, + I must examine thee. What is thy name? + CLERK. Emmanuel. + DICK. They use to write it on the top of letters; 'twill go hard + with you. + CADE. Let me alone. Dost thou use to write thy name, or hast thou a + mark to thyself, like a honest plain-dealing man? + CLERK. Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up that I can + write my name. + ALL. He hath confess'd. Away with him! He's a villain and a + traitor. + CADE. Away with him, I say! Hang him with his pen and inkhorn about + his neck. Exit one with the CLERK + + Enter MICHAEL + + MICHAEL. Where's our General? + CADE. Here I am, thou particular fellow. + MICHAEL. Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are + hard by, with the King's forces. + CADE. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down. He shall be + encount'red with a man as good as himself. He is but a knight, + is 'a? + MICHAEL. No. + CADE. To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently. + [Kneels] Rise up, Sir John Mortimer. [Rises] Now have at him! + + Enter SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD and WILLIAM + his brother, with drum and soldiers + + STAFFORD. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, + Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down; + Home to your cottages, forsake this groom; + The King is merciful if you revolt. + WILLIAM STAFFORD. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to blood, + If you go forward; therefore yield or die. + CADE. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not; + It is to you, good people, that I speak, + O'er whom, in time to come, I hope to reign; + For I am rightful heir unto the crown. + STAFFORD. Villain, thy father was a plasterer; + And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not? + CADE. And Adam was a gardener. + WILLIAM STAFFORD. And what of that? + CADE. Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, + Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter, did he not? + STAFFORD. Ay, sir. + CADE. By her he had two children at one birth. + WILLIAM STAFFORD. That's false. + CADE. Ay, there's the question; but I say 'tis true. + The elder of them being put to nurse, + Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away, + And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, + Became a bricklayer when he came to age. + His son am I; deny it if you can. + DICK. Nay, 'tis too true; therefore he shall be king. + SMITH. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks + are alive at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not. + STAFFORD. And will you credit this base drudge's words + That speaks he knows not what? + ALL. Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone. + WILLIAM STAFFORD. Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this. + CADE. [Aside] He lies, for I invented it myself- Go to, sirrah, + tell the King from me that for his father's sake, Henry the + Fifth, in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns, + I am content he shall reign; but I'll be Protector over him. + DICK. And furthermore, we'll have the Lord Say's head for selling + the dukedom of Maine. + CADE. And good reason; for thereby is England main'd and fain to go + with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I + tell you that that Lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth and made + it an eunuch; and more than that, he can speak French, and + therefore he is a traitor. + STAFFORD. O gross and miserable ignorance! + CADE. Nay, answer if you can; the Frenchmen are our enemies. Go to, + then, I ask but this: can he that speaks with the tongue of an + enemy be a good counsellor, or no? + ALL. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head. + WILLIAM STAFFORD. Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail, + Assail them with the army of the King. + STAFFORD. Herald, away; and throughout every town + Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade; + That those which fly before the battle ends + May, even in their wives'and children's sight, + Be hang'd up for example at their doors. + And you that be the King's friends, follow me. + Exeunt the TWO STAFFORDS and soldiers + CADE. And you that love the commons follow me. + Now show yourselves men; 'tis for liberty. + We will not leave one lord, one gentleman; + Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon, + For they are thrifty honest men and such + As would- but that they dare not- take our parts. + DICK. They are all in order, and march toward us. + CADE. But then are we in order when we are most out of order. Come, + march forward. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Another part of Blackheath + +Alarums to the fight, wherein both the STAFFORDS are slain. +Enter CADE and the rest + + CADE. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford? + DICK. Here, sir. + CADE. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behavedst + thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter-house; + therefore thus will I reward thee- the Lent shall be as long + again as it is, and thou shalt have a licence to kill for a + hundred lacking one. + DICK. I desire no more. + CADE. And, to speak truth, thou deserv'st no less. [Putting on SIR + HUMPHREY'S brigandine] This monument of the victory will I bear, + and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels till I do come + to London, where we will have the mayor's sword borne before us. + DICK. If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the gaols and + let out the prisoners. + CADE. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's march towards + London. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +London. The palace + +Enter the KING with a supplication, and the QUEEN with SUFFOLK'S head; +the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, and the LORD SAY + + QUEEN. Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind + And makes it fearful and degenerate; + Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep. + But who can cease to weep, and look on this? + Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast; + But where's the body that I should embrace? + BUCKINGHAM. What answer makes your Grace to the rebels' + supplication? + KING HENRY. I'll send some holy bishop to entreat; + For God forbid so many simple souls + Should perish by the sword! And I myself, + Rather than bloody war shall cut them short, + Will parley with Jack Cade their general. + But stay, I'll read it over once again. + QUEEN. Ah, barbarous villains! Hath this lovely face + Rul'd like a wandering planet over me, + And could it not enforce them to relent + That were unworthy to behold the same? + KING HENRY. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head. + SAY. Ay, but I hope your Highness shall have his. + KING HENRY. How now, madam! + Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death? + I fear me, love, if that I had been dead, + Thou wouldst not have mourn'd so much for me. + QUEEN. No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee. + + Enter A MESSENGER + + KING HENRY. How now! What news? Why com'st thou in such haste? + MESSENGER. The rebels are in Southwark; fly, my lord! + Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer, + Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house, + And calls your Grace usurper, openly, + And vows to crown himself in Westminster. + His army is a ragged multitude + Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless; + Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death + Hath given them heart and courage to proceed. + All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, + They call false caterpillars and intend their death. + KING HENRY. O graceless men! they know not what they do. + BUCKINGHAM. My gracious lord, retire to Killingworth + Until a power be rais'd to put them down. + QUEEN. Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive, + These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd! + KING HENRY. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee; + Therefore away with us to Killingworth. + SAY. So might your Grace's person be in danger. + The sight of me is odious in their eyes; + And therefore in this city will I stay + And live alone as secret as I may. + + Enter another MESSENGER + + SECOND MESSENGER. Jack Cade hath gotten London Bridge. + The citizens fly and forsake their houses; + The rascal people, thirsting after prey, + Join with the traitor; and they jointly swear + To spoil the city and your royal court. + BUCKINGHAM. Then linger not, my lord; away, take horse. + KING HENRY. Come Margaret; God, our hope, will succour us. + QUEEN. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceas'd. + KING HENRY. [To LORD SAY] Farewell, my lord, trust not the Kentish + rebels. + BUCKINGHAM. Trust nobody, for fear you be betray'd. + SAY. The trust I have is in mine innocence, + And therefore am I bold and resolute. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +London. The Tower + +Enter LORD SCALES Upon the Tower, walking. Then enter two or three CITIZENS, +below + + SCALES. How now! Is Jack Cade slain? + FIRST CITIZEN. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they have + won the bridge, killing all those that withstand them. + The Lord Mayor craves aid of your honour from the + Tower, to defend the city from the rebels. + SCALES. Such aid as I can spare you shall command, + But I am troubled here with them myself; + The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower. + But get you to Smithfield, and gather head, + And thither I will send you Matthew Goffe; + Fight for your King, your country, and your lives; + And so, farewell, for I must hence again. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +London. Cannon street + +Enter JACK CADE and the rest, and strikes his staff on London Stone + + CADE. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here, sitting upon + London Stone, I charge and command that, of the city's cost, the + pissing conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of + our reign. And now henceforward it shall be treason for any that + calls me other than Lord Mortimer. + + Enter a SOLDIER, running + + SOLDIER. Jack Cade! Jack Cade! + CADE. Knock him down there. [They kill him] + SMITH. If this fellow be wise, he'll never call ye Jack Cade more; + I think he hath a very fair warning. + DICK. My lord, there's an army gathered together in Smithfield. + CADE. Come then, let's go fight with them. But first go and set + London Bridge on fire; and, if you can, burn down the Tower too. + Come, let's away. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VII. +London. Smithfield + +Alarums. MATTHEW GOFFE is slain, and all the rest. Then enter JACK CADE, +with his company + + CADE. So, sirs. Now go some and pull down the Savoy; others to th' + Inns of Court; down with them all. + DICK. I have a suit unto your lordship. + CADE. Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word. + DICK. Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth. + JOHN. [Aside] Mass, 'twill be sore law then; for he was thrust in + the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole yet. + SMITH. [Aside] Nay, John, it will be stinking law; for his breath + stinks with eating toasted cheese. + CADE. I have thought upon it; it shall be so. Away, burn all the + records of the realm. My mouth shall be the Parliament of + England. + JOHN. [Aside] Then we are like to have biting statutes, unless his + teeth be pull'd out. + CADE. And henceforward all things shall be in common. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. My lord, a prize, a prize! Here's the Lord Say, which + sold the towns in France; he that made us pay one and twenty + fifteens, and one shining to the pound, the last subsidy. + + Enter GEORGE BEVIS, with the LORD SAY + + CADE. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. Ah, thou say, + thou serge, nay, thou buckram lord! Now art thou within point + blank of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer to my + Majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu the + Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these presence, even + the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must + sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most + traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a + grammar school; and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other + books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to + be us'd, and, contrary to the King, his crown, and dignity, thou + hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face that thou + hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb, and + such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear. + Thou hast appointed justices of peace, to call poor men before + them about matters they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou + hast put them in prison, and because they could not read, thou + hast hang'd them, when, indeed, only for that cause they have + been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost + thou not? + SAY. What of that? + CADE. Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when + honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets. + DICK. And work in their shirt too, as myself, for example, that am + a butcher. + SAY. You men of Kent- + DICK. What say you of Kent? + SAY. Nothing but this: 'tis 'bona terra, mala gens.' + CADE. Away with him, away with him! He speaks Latin. + SAY. Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. + Kent, in the Commentaries Caesar writ, + Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle. + Sweet is the country, because full of riches; + The people liberal valiant, active, wealthy; + Which makes me hope you are not void of pity. + I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy; + Yet, to recover them, would lose my life. + Justice with favour have I always done; + Pray'rs and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never. + When have I aught exacted at your hands, + But to maintain the King, the realm, and you? + Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, + Because my book preferr'd me to the King, + And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, + Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, + Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits + You cannot but forbear to murder me. + This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings + For your behoof. + CADE. Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field? + SAY. Great men have reaching hands. Oft have I struck + Those that I never saw, and struck them dead. + GEORGE. O monstrous coward! What, to come behind folks? + SAY. These cheeks are pale for watching for your good. + CADE. Give him a box o' th' ear, and that will make 'em red again. + SAY. Long sitting to determine poor men's causes + Hath made me full of sickness and diseases. + CADE. Ye shall have a hempen caudle then, and the help of hatchet. + DICK. Why dost thou quiver, man? + SAY. The palsy, and not fear, provokes me. + CADE. Nay, he nods at us, as who should say 'I'll be even with + you'; I'll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole, or no. + Take him away, and behead him. + SAY. Tell me: wherein have I offended most? + Have I affected wealth or honour? Speak. + Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold? + Is my apparel sumptuous to behold? + Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek my death? + These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding, + This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts. + O, let me live! + CADE. [Aside] I feel remorse in myself with his words; but I'll + bridle it. He shall die, an it be but for pleading so well for + his life.- Away with him! He has a familiar under his tongue; he + speaks not o' God's name. Go, take him away, I say, and strike + off his head presently, and then break into his son-in-law's + house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them + both upon two poles hither. + ALL. It shall be done. + SAY. Ah, countrymen! if when you make your pray'rs, + God should be so obdurate as yourselves, + How would it fare with your departed souls? + And therefore yet relent and save my life. + CADE. Away with him, and do as I command ye. [Exeunt some with + LORD SAY] The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head + on his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute; there shall not a + maid be married, but she shall pay to me her maidenhead ere they + have it. Men shall hold of me in capite; and we charge and + command that their wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue + can tell. + DICK. My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside, and take up + commodities upon our bills? + CADE. Marry, presently. + ALL. O, brave! + + Re-enter one with the heads + + CADE. But is not this braver? Let them kiss one another, for they + lov'd well when they were alive. Now part them again, lest they + consult about the giving up of some more towns in France. + Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night; for with these + borne before us instead of maces will we ride through the + streets, and at every corner have them kiss. Away! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VIII. +Southwark + +Alarum and retreat. Enter again CADE and all his rabblement + + CADE. Up Fish Street! down Saint Magnus' Corner! Kill and knock + down! Throw them into Thames! [Sound a parley] + What noise is this I hear? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat + or parley when I command them kill? + + Enter BUCKINGHAM and old CLIFFORD, attended + + BUCKINGHAM. Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee. + And therefore yet relent, and save my life. + Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the King + Unto the commons whom thou hast misled; + And here pronounce free pardon to them all + That will forsake thee and go home in peace. + CLIFFORD. What say ye, countrymen? Will ye relent + And yield to mercy whilst 'tis offer'd you, + Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths? + Who loves the King, and will embrace his pardon, + Fling up his cap and say 'God save his Majesty!' + Who hateth him and honours not his father, + Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake, + Shake he his weapon at us and pass by. + ALL. God save the King! God save the King! + CADE. What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye so brave? + And you, base peasants, do ye believe him? Will you needs be + hang'd with your about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke + through London gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart + in Southwark? I thought ye would never have given out these arms + till you had recovered your ancient freedom. But you are all + recreants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the + nobility. Let them break your backs with burdens, take your + houses over your heads, ravish your wives and daughters before + your faces. For me, I will make shift for one; and so God's curse + light upon you all! + ALL. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade! + CLIFFORD. Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth, + That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him? + Will he conduct you through the heart of France, + And make the meanest of you earls and dukes? + Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to; + Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil, + Unless by robbing of your friends and us. + Were't not a shame that whilst you live at jar + The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, + Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you? + Methinks already in this civil broil + I see them lording it in London streets, + Crying 'Villiago!' unto all they meet. + Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry + Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy. + To France, to France, and get what you have lost; + Spare England, for it is your native coast. + Henry hath money; you are strong and manly. + God on our side, doubt not of victory. + ALL. A Clifford! a Clifford! We'll follow the King and Clifford. + CADE. Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this + multitude? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to an hundred + mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. I see them lay their + heads together to surprise me. My sword make way for me for here + is no staying. In despite of the devils and hell, have through + the very middest of you! and heavens and honour be witness that + no want of resolution in me, but only my followers' base and + ignominious treasons, makes me betake me to my heels. + Exit + BUCKINGHAM. What, is he fled? Go some, and follow him; + And he that brings his head unto the King + Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. + Exeunt some of them + Follow me, soldiers; we'll devise a mean + To reconcile you all unto the King. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IX. +Killing, worth Castle + +Sound trumpets. Enter KING, QUEEN, and SOMERSET, on the terrace + + KING HENRY. Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne + And could command no more content than I? + No sooner was I crept out of my cradle + But I was made a king, at nine months old. + Was never subject long'd to be a King + As I do long and wish to be a subject. + + Enter BUCKINGHAM and old CLIFFORD + + BUCKINGHAM. Health and glad tidings to your Majesty! + KING HENRY. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surpris'd? + Or is he but retir'd to make him strong? + + Enter, below, multitudes, with halters about their necks + + CLIFFORD. He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield, + And humbly thus, with halters on their necks, + Expect your Highness' doom of life or death. + KING HENRY. Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates, + To entertain my vows of thanks and praise! + Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives, + And show'd how well you love your Prince and country. + Continue still in this so good a mind, + And Henry, though he be infortunate, + Assure yourselves, will never be unkind. + And so, with thanks and pardon to you all, + I do dismiss you to your several countries. + ALL. God save the King! God save the King! + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Please it your Grace to be advertised + The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland + And with a puissant and a mighty power + Of gallowglasses and stout kerns + Is marching hitherward in proud array, + And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, + His arms are only to remove from thee + The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor. + KING HENRY. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and York distress'd; + Like to a ship that, having scap'd a tempest, + Is straightway calm'd, and boarded with a pirate; + But now is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd, + And now is York in arms to second him. + I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet him + And ask him what's the reason of these arms. + Tell him I'll send Duke Edmund to the Tower- + And Somerset, we will commit thee thither + Until his army be dismiss'd from him. + SOMERSET. My lord, + I'll yield myself to prison willingly, + Or unto death, to do my country good. + KING HENRY. In any case be not too rough in terms, + For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language. + BUCKINGHAM. I will, my lord, and doubt not so to deal + As all things shall redound unto your good. + KING HENRY. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better; + For yet may England curse my wretched reign. + Flourish. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE X. +Kent. Iden's garden + +Enter CADE + + CADE. Fie on ambitions! Fie on myself, that have a sword and yet am + ready to famish! These five days have I hid me in these woods and + durst not peep out, for all the country is laid for me; but now + am I so hungry that, if I might have a lease of my life for a + thousand years, I could stay no longer. Wherefore, on a brick + wall have I climb'd into this garden, to see if I can eat grass + or pick a sallet another while, which is not amiss to cool a + man's stomach this hot weather. And I think this word 'sallet' + was born to do me good; for many a time, but for a sallet, my + brain-pain had been cleft with a brown bill; and many a time, + when I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath serv'd me + instead of a quart-pot to drink in; and now the word 'sallet' + must serve me to feed on. + + Enter IDEN + + IDEN. Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court + And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? + This small inheritance my father left me + Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy. + I seek not to wax great by others' waning + Or gather wealth I care not with what envy; + Sufficeth that I have maintains my state, + And sends the poor well pleased from my gate. + CADE. Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray, for + entering his fee-simple without leave. Ah, villain, thou wilt + betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the King by carrying my + head to him; but I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich and + swallow my sword like a great pin ere thou and I part. + IDEN. Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be, + I know thee not; why then should I betray thee? + Is't not enough to break into my garden + And like a thief to come to rob my grounds, + Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, + But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms? + CADE. Brave thee? Ay, by the best blood that ever was broach'd, and + beard thee too. Look on me well: I have eat no meat these five + days, yet come thou and thy five men and if I do not leave you + all as dead as a door-nail, I pray God I may never eat grass + more. + IDEN. Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England stands, + That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, + Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. + Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine; + See if thou canst outface me with thy looks; + Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; + Thy hand is but a finger to my fist, + Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon; + My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast, + And if mine arm be heaved in the air, + Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth. + As for words, whose greatness answers words, + Let this my sword report what speech forbears. + CADE. By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard! + Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut not out the burly bon'd + clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech + God on my knees thou mayst be turn'd to hobnails. [Here they + fight; CADE falls] O, I am slain! famine and no other hath slain + me. Let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the + ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all. Wither, garden, and + be henceforth a burying place to all that do dwell in this house, + because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled. + IDEN. Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor? + Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed + And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead. + Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point, + But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat + To emblaze the honour that thy master got. + CADE. Iden, farewell; and be proud of thy victory. Tell Kent from + me she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the world to be + cowards; for I, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine, + not by valour. [Dies] + IDEN. How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge. + Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee! + And as I thrust thy body in with my sword, + So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell. + Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels + Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, + And there cut off thy most ungracious head, + Which I will bear in triumph to the King, + Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Fields between Dartford and Blackheath + +Enter YORK, and his army of Irish, with drum and colours + + YORK. From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right + And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head: + Ring bells aloud, burn bonfires clear and bright, + To entertain great England's lawful king. + Ah, sancta majestas! who would not buy thee dear? + Let them obey that knows not how to rule; + This hand was made to handle nought but gold. + I cannot give due action to my words + Except a sword or sceptre balance it. + A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul + On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France. + + Enter BUCKINGHAM + + [Aside] Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb me? + The King hath sent him, sure: I must dissemble. + BUCKINGHAM. York, if thou meanest well I greet thee well. + YORK. Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting. + Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure? + BUCKINGHAM. A messenger from Henry, our dread liege, + To know the reason of these arms in peace; + Or why thou, being a subject as I am, + Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, + Should raise so great a power without his leave, + Or dare to bring thy force so near the court. + YORK. [Aside] Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. + O, I could hew up rocks and fight with flint, + I am so angry at these abject terms; + And now, like Ajax Telamonius, + On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury. + I am far better born than is the King, + More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts; + But I must make fair weather yet awhile, + Till Henry be more weak and I more strong.- + Buckingham, I prithee, pardon me + That I have given no answer all this while; + My mind was troubled with deep melancholy. + The cause why I have brought this army hither + Is to remove proud Somerset from the King, + Seditious to his Grace and to the state. + BUCKINGHAM. That is too much presumption on thy part; + But if thy arms be to no other end, + The King hath yielded unto thy demand: + The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower. + YORK. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner? + BUCKINGHAM. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner. + YORK. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my pow'rs. + Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves; + Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field, + You shall have pay and everything you wish. + And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, + Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons, + As pledges of my fealty and love. + I'll send them all as willing as I live: + Lands, goods, horse, armour, anything I have, + Is his to use, so Somerset may die. + BUCKINGHAM. York, I commend this kind submission. + We twain will go into his Highness' tent. + + Enter the KING, and attendants + + KING HENRY. Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us, + That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm? + YORK. In all submission and humility + York doth present himself unto your Highness. + KING HENRY. Then what intends these forces thou dost bring? + YORK. To heave the traitor Somerset from hence, + And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade, + Who since I heard to be discomfited. + + Enter IDEN, with CADE's head + + IDEN. If one so rude and of so mean condition + May pass into the presence of a king, + Lo, I present your Grace a traitor's head, + The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew. + KING HENRY. The head of Cade! Great God, how just art Thou! + O, let me view his visage, being dead, + That living wrought me such exceeding trouble. + Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him? + IDEN. I was, an't like your Majesty. + KING HENRY. How art thou call'd? And what is thy degree? + IDEN. Alexander Iden, that's my name; + A poor esquire of Kent that loves his king. + BUCKINGHAM. So please it you, my lord, 'twere not amiss + He were created knight for his good service. + KING HENRY. Iden, kneel down. [He kneels] Rise up a knight. + We give thee for reward a thousand marks, + And will that thou thenceforth attend on us. + IDEN. May Iden live to merit such a bounty, + And never live but true unto his liege! + + Enter the QUEEN and SOMERSET + + KING HENRY. See, Buckingham! Somerset comes with th' Queen: + Go, bid her hide him quickly from the Duke. + QUEEN. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, + But boldly stand and front him to his face. + YORK. How now! Is Somerset at liberty? + Then, York, unloose thy long-imprisoned thoughts + And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. + Shall I endure the sight of Somerset? + False king, why hast thou broken faith with me, + Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse? + King did I call thee? No, thou art not king; + Not fit to govern and rule multitudes, + Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor. + That head of thine doth not become a crown; + Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff, + And not to grace an awful princely sceptre. + That gold must round engirt these brows of mine, + Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, + Is able with the change to kill and cure. + Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up, + And with the same to act controlling laws. + Give place. By heaven, thou shalt rule no more + O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler. + SOMERSET. O monstrous traitor! I arrest thee, York, + Of capital treason 'gainst the King and crown. + Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace. + YORK. Wouldst have me kneel? First let me ask of these, + If they can brook I bow a knee to man. + Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail: Exit attendant + I know, ere thy will have me go to ward, + They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement. + QUEEN. Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain, + To say if that the bastard boys of York + Shall be the surety for their traitor father. + Exit BUCKINGHAM + YORK. O blood-bespotted Neapolitan, + Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge! + The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, + Shall be their father's bail; and bane to those + That for my surety will refuse the boys! + + Enter EDWARD and RICHARD PLANTAGENET + + See where they come: I'll warrant they'll make it good. + + Enter CLIFFORD and his SON + + QUEEN. And here comes Clifford to deny their bail. + CLIFFORD. Health and all happiness to my lord the King! + [Kneels] + YORK. I thank thee, Clifford. Say, what news with thee? + Nay, do not fright us with an angry look. + We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again; + For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee. + CLIFFORD. This is my King, York, I do not mistake; + But thou mistakes me much to think I do. + To Bedlam with him! Is the man grown mad? + KING HENRY. Ay, Clifford; a bedlam and ambitious humour + Makes him oppose himself against his king. + CLIFFORD. He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, + And chop away that factious pate of his. + QUEEN. He is arrested, but will not obey; + His sons, he says, shall give their words for him. + YORK. Will you not, sons? + EDWARD. Ay, noble father, if our words will serve. + RICHARD. And if words will not, then our weapons shall. + CLIFFORD. Why, what a brood of traitors have we here! + YORK. Look in a glass, and call thy image so: + I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor. + Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, + That with the very shaking of their chains + They may astonish these fell-lurking curs. + Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me. + + Enter the EARLS OF WARWICK and SALISBURY + + CLIFFORD. Are these thy bears? We'll bait thy bears to death, + And manacle the berard in their chains, + If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place. + RICHARD. Oft have I seen a hot o'er weening cur + Run back and bite, because he was withheld; + Who, being suffer'd, with the bear's fell paw, + Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs and cried; + And such a piece of service will you do, + If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick. + CLIFFORD. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, + As crooked in thy manners as thy shape! + YORK. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon. + CLIFFORD. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves. + KING HENRY. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow? + Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, + Thou mad misleader of thy brainsick son! + What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian + And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? + O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty? + If it be banish'd from the frosty head, + Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? + Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war + And shame thine honourable age with blood? + Why art thou old, and want'st experience? + Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it? + For shame! In duty bend thy knee to me, + That bows unto the grave with mickle age. + SALISBURY. My lord, I have considered with myself + The tide of this most renowned duke, + And in my conscience do repute his Grace + The rightful heir to England's royal seat. + KING HENRY. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me? + SALISBURY. I have. + KING HENRY. Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath? + SALISBURY. It is great sin to swear unto a sin; + But greater sin to keep a sinful oath. + Who can be bound by any solemn vow + To do a murd'rous deed, to rob a man, + To force a spotless virgin's chastity, + To reave the orphan of his patrimony, + To wring the widow from her custom'd right, + And have no other reason for this wrong + But that he was bound by a solemn oath? + QUEEN. A subtle traitor needs no sophister. + KING HENRY. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself. + YORK. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast, + I am resolv'd for death or dignity. + CLIFFORD. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true. + WARWICK. You were best to go to bed and dream again + To keep thee from the tempest of the field. + CLIFFORD. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm + Than any thou canst conjure up to-day; + And that I'll write upon thy burgonet, + Might I but know thee by thy household badge. + WARWICK. Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest, + The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, + This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet, + As on a mountain-top the cedar shows, + That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm, + Even to affright thee with the view thereof. + CLIFFORD. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear + And tread it under foot with all contempt, + Despite the berard that protects the bear. + YOUNG CLIFFORD. And so to arms, victorious father, + To quell the rebels and their complices. + RICHARD. Fie! charity, for shame! Speak not in spite, + For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night. + YOUNG CLIFFORD. Foul stigmatic, that's more than thou canst tell. + RICHARD. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. + Exeunt severally + + + + +SCENE II. +Saint Albans + +Alarums to the battle. Enter WARWICK + + WARWICK. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls; + And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, + Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum + And dead men's cries do fill the empty air, + Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me. + Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, + WARWICK is hoarse with calling thee to arms. + + Enter YORK + + How now, my noble lord! what, all a-foot? + YORK. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed; + But match to match I have encount'red him, + And made a prey for carrion kites and crows + Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well. + + Enter OLD CLIFFORD + + WARWICK. Of one or both of us the time is come. + YORK. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase, + For I myself must hunt this deer to death. + WARWICK. Then, nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st. + As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day, + It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd. Exit + CLIFFORD. What seest thou in me, York? Why dost thou pause? + YORK. With thy brave bearing should I be in love + But that thou art so fast mine enemy. + CLIFFORD. Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem + But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason. + YORK. So let it help me now against thy sword, + As I in justice and true right express it! + CLIFFORD. My soul and body on the action both! + YORK. A dreadful lay! Address thee instantly. + [They fight and CLIFFORD falls] + CLIFFORD. La fin couronne les oeuvres. [Dies] + YORK. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still. + Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will! Exit + + Enter YOUNG CLIFFORD + + YOUNG CLIFFORD. Shame and confusion! All is on the rout; + Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds + Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell, + Whom angry heavens do make their minister, + Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part + Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly. + He that is truly dedicate to war + Hath no self-love; nor he that loves himself + Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, + The name of valour. [Sees his father's body] + O, let the vile world end + And the premised flames of the last day + Knit earth and heaven together! + Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, + Particularities and petty sounds + To cease! Wast thou ordain'd, dear father, + To lose thy youth in peace and to achieve + The silver livery of advised age, + And in thy reverence and thy chair-days thus + To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight + My heart is turn'd to stone; and while 'tis mine + It shall be stony. York not our old men spares; + No more will I their babes. Tears virginal + Shall be to me even as the dew to fire; + And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims, + Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. + Henceforth I will not have to do with pity: + Meet I an infant of the house of York, + Into as many gobbets will I cut it + As wild Medea young Absyrtus did; + In cruelty will I seek out my fame. + Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house; + As did Aeneas old Anchises bear, + So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders; + But then Aeneas bare a living load, + Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. + Exit with the body + + Enter RICHARD and SOMERSET to fight. SOMERSET is killed + + RICHARD. So, lie thou there; + For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign, + The Castle in Saint Albans, Somerset + Hath made the wizard famous in his death. + Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still: + Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. Exit + + Fight. Excursions. Enter KING, QUEEN, and others + + QUEEN. Away, my lord! You are slow; for shame, away! + KING HENRY. Can we outrun the heavens? Good Margaret, stay. + QUEEN. What are you made of? You'll nor fight nor fly. + Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence, + To give the enemy way, and to secure us + By what we can, which can no more but fly. + [Alarum afar off] + If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom + Of all our fortunes; but if we haply scape- + As well we may, if not through your neglect- + We shall to London get, where you are lov'd, + And where this breach now in our fortunes made + May readily be stopp'd. + + Re-enter YOUNG CLIFFORD + + YOUNG CLIFFORD. But that my heart's on future mischief set, + I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly; + But fly you must; uncurable discomfit + Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. + Away, for your relief! and we will live + To see their day and them our fortune give. + Away, my lord, away! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Fields near Saint Albans + +Alarum. Retreat. Enter YORK, RICHARD, WARWICK, and soldiers, +with drum and colours + + YORK. Of Salisbury, who can report of him, + That winter lion, who in rage forgets + Aged contusions and all brush of time + And, like a gallant in the brow of youth, + Repairs him with occasion? This happy day + Is not itself, nor have we won one foot, + If Salisbury be lost. + RICHARD. My noble father, + Three times to-day I holp him to his horse, + Three times bestrid him, thrice I led him off, + Persuaded him from any further act; + But still where danger was, still there I met him; + And like rich hangings in a homely house, + So was his will in his old feeble body. + But, noble as he is, look where he comes. + + Enter SALISBURY + + SALISBURY. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought to-day! + By th' mass, so did we all. I thank you, Richard: + God knows how long it is I have to live, + And it hath pleas'd Him that three times to-day + You have defended me from imminent death. + Well, lords, we have not got that which we have; + 'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, + Being opposites of such repairing nature. + YORK. I know our safety is to follow them; + For, as I hear, the King is fled to London + To call a present court of Parliament. + Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth. + What says Lord Warwick? Shall we after them? + WARWICK. After them? Nay, before them, if we can. + Now, by my faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day: + Saint Albans' battle, won by famous York, + Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come. + Sound drum and trumpets and to London all; + And more such days as these to us befall! Exeunt + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1591 + +THE THIRD PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + KING HENRY THE SIXTH + EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES, his son + LEWIS XI, King of France DUKE OF SOMERSET + DUKE OF EXETER EARL OF OXFORD + EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND EARL OF WESTMORELAND + LORD CLIFFORD + RICHARD PLANTAGENET, DUKE OF YORK + EDWARD, EARL OF MARCH, afterwards KING EDWARD IV, his son + EDMUND, EARL OF RUTLAND, his son + GEORGE, afterwards DUKE OF CLARENCE, his son + RICHARD, afterwards DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, his son + DUKE OF NORFOLK MARQUIS OF MONTAGUE + EARL OF WARWICK EARL OF PEMBROKE + LORD HASTINGS LORD STAFFORD + SIR JOHN MORTIMER, uncle to the Duke of York + SIR HUGH MORTIMER, uncle to the Duke of York + HENRY, EARL OF RICHMOND, a youth + LORD RIVERS, brother to Lady Grey + SIR WILLIAM STANLEY SIR JOHN MONTGOMERY + SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE TUTOR, to Rutland + MAYOR OF YORK LIEUTENANT OF THE TOWER + A NOBLEMAN TWO KEEPERS + A HUNTSMAN + A SON that has killed his father + A FATHER that has killed his son + + QUEEN MARGARET + LADY GREY, afterwards QUEEN to Edward IV + BONA, sister to the French Queen + + Soldiers, Attendants, Messengers, Watchmen, etc. + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +England and France + +ACT I. SCENE I. +London. The Parliament House + +Alarum. Enter DUKE OF YORK, EDWARD, RICHARD, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, +and soldiers, with white roses in their hats + + WARWICK. I wonder how the King escap'd our hands. + YORK. While we pursu'd the horsemen of the north, + He slily stole away and left his men; + Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, + Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, + Cheer'd up the drooping army, and himself, + Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast, + Charg'd our main battle's front, and, breaking in, + Were by the swords of common soldiers slain. + EDWARD. Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buckingham, + Is either slain or wounded dangerous; + I cleft his beaver with a downright blow. + That this is true, father, behold his blood. + MONTAGUE. And, brother, here's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood, + Whom I encount'red as the battles join'd. + RICHARD. Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did. + [Throwing down SOMERSET'S head] + YORK. Richard hath best deserv'd of all my sons. + But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset? + NORFOLK. Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt! + RICHARD. Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head. + WARWICK. And so do I. Victorious Prince of York, + Before I see thee seated in that throne + Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, + I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close. + This is the palace of the fearful King, + And this the regal seat. Possess it, York; + For this is thine, and not King Henry's heirs'. + YORK. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will; + For hither we have broken in by force. + NORFOLK. We'll all assist you; he that flies shall die. + YORK. Thanks, gentle Norfolk. Stay by me, my lords; + And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night. + [They go up] + WARWICK. And when the King comes, offer him no violence. + Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce. + YORK. The Queen this day here holds her parliament, + But little thinks we shall be of her council. + By words or blows here let us win our right. + RICHARD. Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this house. + WARWICK. The bloody parliament shall this be call'd, + Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be King, + And bashful Henry depos'd, whose cowardice + Hath made us by-words to our enemies. + YORK. Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute: + I mean to take possession of my right. + WARWICK. Neither the King, nor he that loves him best, + The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, + Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells. + I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares. + Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown. + [YORK occupies the throne] + + Flourish. Enter KING HENRY, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, + WESTMORELAND, EXETER, and others, with red roses in + their hats + + KING HENRY. My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, + Even in the chair of state! Belike he means, + Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer, + To aspire unto the crown and reign as king. + Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father; + And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have vow'd revenge + On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends. + NORTHUMBERLAND. If I be not, heavens be reveng'd on me! + CLIFFORD. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel. + WESTMORELAND. What, shall we suffer this? Let's pluck him down; + My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it. + KING HENRY. Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmoreland. + CLIFFORD. Patience is for poltroons such as he; + He durst not sit there had your father liv'd. + My gracious lord, here in the parliament + Let us assail the family of York. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Well hast thou spoken, cousin; be it so. + KING HENRY. Ah, know you not the city favours them, + And they have troops of soldiers at their beck? + EXETER. But when the Duke is slain they'll quickly fly. + KING HENRY. Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart, + To make a shambles of the parliament house! + Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats, + Shall be the war that Henry means to use. + Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne + And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet; + I am thy sovereign. + YORK. I am thine. + EXETER. For shame, come down; he made thee Duke of York. + YORK. 'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was. + EXETER. Thy father was a traitor to the crown. + WARWICK. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown + In following this usurping Henry. + CLIFFORD. Whom should he follow but his natural king? + WARWICK. True, Clifford; and that's Richard Duke of York. + KING HENRY. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne? + YORK. It must and shall be so; content thyself. + WARWICK. Be Duke of Lancaster; let him be King. + WESTMORELAND. He is both King and Duke of Lancaster; + And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. + WARWICK. And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget + That we are those which chas'd you from the field, + And slew your fathers, and with colours spread + March'd through the city to the palace gates. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; + And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. + WESTMORELAND. Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons, + Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more lives + Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. + CLIFFORD. Urge it no more; lest that instead of words + I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger + As shall revenge his death before I stir. + WARWICK. Poor Clifford, how I scorn his worthless threats! + YORK. Will you we show our title to the crown? + If not, our swords shall plead it in the field. + KING HENRY. What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? + Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York; + Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March: + I am the son of Henry the Fifth, + Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop, + And seiz'd upon their towns and provinces. + WARWICK. Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all. + KING HENRY. The Lord Protector lost it, and not I: + When I was crown'd, I was but nine months old. + RICHARD. You are old enough now, and yet methinks you lose. + Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. + EDWARD. Sweet father, do so; set it on your head. + MONTAGUE. Good brother, as thou lov'st and honourest arms, + Let's fight it out and not stand cavilling thus. + RICHARD. Sound drums and trumpets, and the King will fly. + YORK. Sons, peace! + KING HENRY. Peace thou! and give King Henry leave to speak. + WARWICK. Plantagenet shall speak first. Hear him, lords; + And be you silent and attentive too, + For he that interrupts him shall not live. + KING HENRY. Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly throne, + Wherein my grandsire and my father sat? + No; first shall war unpeople this my realm; + Ay, and their colours, often borne in France, + And now in England to our heart's great sorrow, + Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords? + My title's good, and better far than his. + WARWICK. Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be King. + KING HENRY. Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown. + YORK. 'Twas by rebellion against his king. + KING HENRY. [Aside] I know not what to say; my title's weak.- + Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir? + YORK. What then? + KING HENRY. An if he may, then am I lawful King; + For Richard, in the view of many lords, + Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth, + Whose heir my father was, and I am his. + YORK. He rose against him, being his sovereign, + And made him to resign his crown perforce. + WARWICK. Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain'd, + Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown? + EXETER. No; for he could not so resign his crown + But that the next heir should succeed and reign. + KING HENRY. Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter? + EXETER. His is the right, and therefore pardon me. + YORK. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not? + EXETER. My conscience tells me he is lawful King. + KING HENRY. [Aside] All will revolt from me, and turn to him. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, + Think not that Henry shall be so depos'd. + WARWICK. Depos'd he shall be, in despite of all. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Thou art deceiv'd. 'Tis not thy southern power + Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, + Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud, + Can set the Duke up in despite of me. + CLIFFORD. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, + Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence. + May that ground gape, and swallow me alive, + Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father! + KING HENRY. O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart! + YORK. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown. + What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords? + WARWICK. Do right unto this princely Duke of York; + Or I will fill the house with armed men, + And over the chair of state, where now he sits, + Write up his title with usurping blood. + [He stamps with his foot and the + soldiers show themselves] + KING HENRY. My Lord of Warwick, hear but one word: + Let me for this my life-time reign as king. + YORK. Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs, + And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st. + KING HENRY. I am content. Richard Plantagenet, + Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. + CLIFFORD. What wrong is this unto the Prince your son! + WARWICK. What good is this to England and himself! + WESTMORELAND. Base, fearful, and despairing Henry! + CLIFFORD. How hast thou injur'd both thyself and or us! + WESTMORELAND. I cannot stay to hear these articles. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Nor I. + CLIFFORD. Come, cousin, let us tell the Queen these news. + WESTMORELAND. Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king, + In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Be thou a prey unto the house of York + And die in bands for this unmanly deed! + CLIFFORD. In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome, + Or live in peace abandon'd and despis'd! + Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, CLIFFORD, + and WESTMORELAND + WARWICK. Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not. + EXETER. They seek revenge, and therefore will not yield. + KING HENRY. Ah, Exeter! + WARWICK. Why should you sigh, my lord? + KING HENRY. Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son, + Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. + But be it as it may. [To YORK] I here entail + The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever; + Conditionally, that here thou take an oath + To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live, + To honour me as thy king and sovereign, + And neither by treason nor hostility + To seek to put me down and reign thyself. + YORK. This oath I willingly take, and will perform. + [Coming from the throne] + WARWICK. Long live King Henry! Plantagenet, embrace him. + KING HENRY. And long live thou, and these thy forward sons! + YORK. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd. + EXETER. Accurs'd be he that seeks to make them foes! + [Sennet. Here they come down] + YORK. Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my castle. + WARWICK. And I'll keep London with my soldiers. + NORFOLK. And I to Norfolk with my followers. + MONTAGUE. And I unto the sea, from whence I came. + Exeunt the YORKISTS + KING HENRY. And I, with grief and sorrow, to the court. + + Enter QUEEN MARGARET and the PRINCE OF WALES + + EXETER. Here comes the Queen, whose looks bewray her anger. + I'll steal away. + KING HENRY. Exeter, so will I. + QUEEN MARGARET. Nay, go not from me; I will follow thee. + KING HENRY. Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay. + QUEEN MARGARET. Who can be patient in such extremes? + Ah, wretched man! Would I had died a maid, + And never seen thee, never borne thee son, + Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a father! + Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus? + Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I, + Or felt that pain which I did for him once, + Or nourish'd him as I did with my blood, + Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there + Rather than have made that savage duke thine heir, + And disinherited thine only son. + PRINCE OF WALES. Father, you cannot disinherit me. + If you be King, why should not I succeed? + KING HENRY. Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son. + The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforc'd me. + QUEEN MARGARET. Enforc'd thee! Art thou King and wilt be + forc'd? + I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch! + Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me; + And giv'n unto the house of York such head + As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. + To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, + What is it but to make thy sepulchre + And creep into it far before thy time? + Warwick is Chancellor and the lord of Calais; + Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; + The Duke is made Protector of the realm; + And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds + The trembling lamb environed with wolves. + Had I been there, which am a silly woman, + The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes + Before I would have granted to that act. + But thou prefer'st thy life before thine honour; + And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself, + Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, + Until that act of parliament be repeal'd + Whereby my son is disinherited. + The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours + Will follow mine, if once they see them spread; + And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace + And utter ruin of the house of York. + Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let's away; + Our army is ready; come, we'll after them. + KING HENRY. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. + QUEEN MARGARET. Thou hast spoke too much already; get thee gone. + KING HENRY. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me? + QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies. + PRINCE OF WALES. When I return with victory from the field + I'll see your Grace; till then I'll follow her. + QUEEN MARGARET. Come, son, away; we may not linger thus. + Exeunt QUEEN MARGARET and the PRINCE + KING HENRY. Poor queen! How love to me and to her son + Hath made her break out into terms of rage! + Reveng'd may she be on that hateful Duke, + Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, + Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle + Tire on the flesh of me and of my son! + The loss of those three lords torments my heart. + I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair; + Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger. + EXETER. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire + +Flourish. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and MONTAGUE + + RICHARD. Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave. + EDWARD. No, I can better play the orator. + MONTAGUE. But I have reasons strong and forcible. + + Enter the DUKE OF YORK + + YORK. Why, how now, sons and brother! at a strife? + What is your quarrel? How began it first? + EDWARD. No quarrel, but a slight contention. + YORK. About what? + RICHARD. About that which concerns your Grace and us- + The crown of England, father, which is yours. + YORK. Mine, boy? Not till King Henry be dead. + RICHARD. Your right depends not on his life or death. + EDWARD. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now. + By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, + It will outrun you, father, in the end. + YORK. I took an oath that he should quietly reign. + EDWARD. But for a kingdom any oath may be broken: + I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year. + RICHARD. No; God forbid your Grace should be forsworn. + YORK. I shall be, if I claim by open war. + RICHARD. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak. + YORK. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. + RICHARD. An oath is of no moment, being not took + Before a true and lawful magistrate + That hath authority over him that swears. + Henry had none, but did usurp the place; + Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, + Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. + Therefore, to arms. And, father, do but think + How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown, + Within whose circuit is Elysium + And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. + Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest + Until the white rose that I wear be dy'd + Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. + YORK. Richard, enough; I will be King, or die. + Brother, thou shalt to London presently + And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. + Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk + And tell him privily of our intent. + You, Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham, + With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise; + In them I trust, for they are soldiers, + Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. + While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more + But that I seek occasion how to rise, + And yet the King not privy to my drift, + Nor any of the house of Lancaster? + + Enter a MESSENGER + + But, stay. What news? Why com'st thou in such post? + MESSENGER. The Queen with all the northern earls and lords + Intend here to besiege you in your castle. + She is hard by with twenty thousand men; + And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. + YORK. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou that we fear them? + Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me; + My brother Montague shall post to London. + Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, + Whom we have left protectors of the King, + With pow'rful policy strengthen themselves + And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths. + MONTAGUE. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not. + And thus most humbly I do take my leave. Exit + + Enter SIR JOHN and SIR HUGH MORTIMER + + YORK. Sir john and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles! + You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; + The army of the Queen mean to besiege us. + SIR JOHN. She shall not need; we'll meet her in the field. + YORK. What, with five thousand men? + RICHARD. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. + A woman's general; what should we fear? + [A march afar off] + EDWARD. I hear their drums. Let's set our men in order, + And issue forth and bid them battle straight. + YORK. Five men to twenty! Though the odds be great, + I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. + Many a battle have I won in France, + When as the enemy hath been ten to one; + Why should I not now have the like success? Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Field of battle between Sandal Castle and Wakefield + +Alarum. Enter RUTLAND and his TUTOR + + RUTLAND. Ah, whither shall I fly to scape their hands? + Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes! + + Enter CLIFFORD and soldiers + + CLIFFORD. Chaplain, away! Thy priesthood saves thy life. + As for the brat of this accursed duke, + Whose father slew my father, he shall die. + TUTOR. And I, my lord, will bear him company. + CLIFFORD. Soldiers, away with him! + TUTOR. Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child, + Lest thou be hated both of God and man. + Exit, forced off by soldiers + CLIFFORD. How now, is he dead already? Or is it fear + That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them. + RUTLAND. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch + That trembles under his devouring paws; + And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey, + And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder. + Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, + And not with such a cruel threat'ning look! + Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die. + I am too mean a subject for thy wrath; + Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live. + CLIFFORD. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood + Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. + RUTLAND. Then let my father's blood open it again: + He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. + CLIFFORD. Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine + Were not revenge sufficient for me; + No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves + And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, + It could not slake mine ire nor ease my heart. + The sight of any of the house of York + Is as a fury to torment my soul; + And till I root out their accursed line + And leave not one alive, I live in hell. + Therefore- + RUTLAND. O, let me pray before I take my death! + To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me. + CLIFFORD. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. + RUTLAND. I never did thee harm; why wilt thou slay me? + CLIFFORD. Thy father hath. + RUTLAND. But 'twas ere I was born. + Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me, + Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, + He be as miserably slain as I. + Ah, let me live in prison all my days; + And when I give occasion of offence + Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. + CLIFFORD. No cause! + Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. [Stabs him] + RUTLAND. Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae! [Dies] + CLIFFORD. Plantagenet, I come, Plantagenet; + And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade + Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, + Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +Another part of the field + +Alarum. Enter the DUKE OF YORK + + YORK. The army of the Queen hath got the field. + My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; + And all my followers to the eager foe + Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind, + Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves. + My sons- God knows what hath bechanced them; + But this I know- they have demean'd themselves + Like men born to renown by life or death. + Three times did Richard make a lane to me, + And thrice cried 'Courage, father! fight it out.' + And full as oft came Edward to my side + With purple falchion, painted to the hilt + In blood of those that had encount'red him. + And when the hardiest warriors did retire, + Richard cried 'Charge, and give no foot of ground!' + And cried 'A crown, or else a glorious tomb! + A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!' + With this we charg'd again; but out alas! + We bodg'd again; as I have seen a swan + With bootless labour swim against the tide + And spend her strength with over-matching waves. + [A short alarum within] + Ah, hark! The fatal followers do pursue, + And I am faint and cannot fly their fury; + And were I strong, I would not shun their fury. + The sands are numb'red that make up my life; + Here must I stay, and here my life must end. + + Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, + the PRINCE OF WALES, and soldiers + + Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, + I dare your quenchless fury to more rage; + I am your butt, and I abide your shot. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. + CLIFFORD. Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm + With downright payment show'd unto my father. + Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car, + And made an evening at the noontide prick. + YORK. My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth + A bird that will revenge upon you all; + And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, + Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. + Why come you not? What! multitudes, and fear? + CLIFFORD. So cowards fight when they can fly no further; + So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; + So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, + Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. + YORK. O Clifford, but bethink thee once again, + And in thy thought o'errun my former time; + And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face, + And bite thy tongue that slanders him with cowardice + Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this! + CLIFFORD. I will not bandy with thee word for word, + But buckler with thee blows, twice two for one. + QUEEN MARGARET. Hold, valiant Clifford; for a thousand causes + I would prolong awhile the traitor's life. + Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, Northumberland. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Hold, Clifford! do not honour him so much + To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart. + What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, + For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, + When he might spurn him with his foot away? + It is war's prize to take all vantages; + And ten to one is no impeach of valour. + [They lay hands on YORK, who struggles] + CLIFFORD. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. + NORTHUMBERLAND. So doth the cony struggle in the net. + YORK. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty; + So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-match'd. + NORTHUMBERLAND. What would your Grace have done unto him now? + QUEEN MARGARET. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, + Come, make him stand upon this molehill here + That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, + Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. + What, was it you that would be England's king? + Was't you that revell'd in our parliament + And made a preachment of your high descent? + Where are your mess of sons to back you now? + The wanton Edward and the lusty George? + And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, + Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice + Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? + Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? + Look, York: I stain'd this napkin with the blood + That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point + Made issue from the bosom of the boy; + And if thine eyes can water for his death, + I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. + Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, + I should lament thy miserable state. + I prithee grieve to make me merry, York. + What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails + That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? + Why art thou patient, man? Thou shouldst be mad; + And I to make thee mad do mock thee thus. + Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. + Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport; + York cannot speak unless he wear a crown. + A crown for York!-and, lords, bow low to him. + Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on. + [Putting a paper crown on his head] + Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! + Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair, + And this is he was his adopted heir. + But how is it that great Plantagenet + Is crown'd so soon and broke his solemn oath? + As I bethink me, you should not be King + Till our King Henry had shook hands with death. + And will you pale your head in Henry's glory, + And rob his temples of the diadem, + Now in his life, against your holy oath? + O, 'tis a fault too too + Off with the crown and with the crown his head; + And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. + CLIFFORD. That is my office, for my father's sake. + QUEEN MARGARET. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he makes. + YORK. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, + Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! + How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex + To triumph like an Amazonian trull + Upon their woes whom fortune captivates! + But that thy face is visard-like, unchanging, + Made impudent with use of evil deeds, + I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush. + To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriv'd, + Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless. + Thy father bears the type of King of Naples, + Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem, + Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. + Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? + It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen; + Unless the adage must be verified, + That beggars mounted run their horse to death. + 'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; + But, God He knows, thy share thereof is small. + 'Tis virtue that doth make them most admir'd; + The contrary doth make thee wond'red at. + 'Tis government that makes them seem divine; + The want thereof makes thee abominable. + Thou art as opposite to every good + As the Antipodes are unto us, + Or as the south to the septentrion. + O tiger's heart wrapp'd in a woman's hide! + How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, + To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, + And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? + Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible: + Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. + Bid'st thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish; + Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will; + For raging wind blows up incessant showers, + And when the rage allays, the rain begins. + These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies; + And every drop cries vengeance for his death + 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Beshrew me, but his passions move me so + That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. + YORK. That face of his the hungry cannibals + Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood; + But you are more inhuman, more inexorable- + O, ten times more- than tigers of Hyrcania. + See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears. + This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy, + And I with tears do wash the blood away. + Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this; + And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, + Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; + Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears + And say 'Alas, it was a piteous deed!' + There, take the crown, and with the crown my curse; + And in thy need such comfort come to thee + As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! + Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world; + My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! + NORTHUMBERLAND. Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin, + I should not for my life but weep with him, + To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. + QUEEN MARGARET. What, weeping-ripe, my Lord Northumberland? + Think but upon the wrong he did us all, + And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. + CLIFFORD. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's death. + [Stabbing him] + QUEEN MARGARET. And here's to right our gentle-hearted king. + [Stabbing him] + YORK. Open Thy gate of mercy, gracious God! + My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee. + [Dies] + QUEEN MARGARET. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; + So York may overlook the town of York. + Flourish. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +A plain near Mortimer's Cross in Herefordshire + +A march. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and their power + + EDWARD. I wonder how our princely father scap'd, + Or whether he be scap'd away or no + From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit. + Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news; + Had he been slain, we should have heard the news; + Or had he scap'd, methinks we should have heard + The happy tidings of his good escape. + How fares my brother? Why is he so sad? + RICHARD. I cannot joy until I be resolv'd + Where our right valiant father is become. + I saw him in the battle range about, + And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth. + Methought he bore him in the thickest troop + As doth a lion in a herd of neat; + Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs, + Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry, + The rest stand all aloof and bark at him. + So far'd our father with his enemies; + So fled his enemies my warlike father. + Methinks 'tis prize enough to be his son. + See how the morning opes her golden gates + And takes her farewell of the glorious sun. + How well resembles it the prime of youth, + Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love! + EDWARD. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns? + RICHARD. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun; + Not separated with the racking clouds, + But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. + See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, + As if they vow'd some league inviolable. + Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. + In this the heaven figures some event. + EDWARD. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of. + I think it cites us, brother, to the field, + That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, + Each one already blazing by our meeds, + Should notwithstanding join our lights together + And overshine the earth, as this the world. + Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear + Upon my target three fair shining suns. + RICHARD. Nay, bear three daughters- by your leave I speak it, + You love the breeder better than the male. + + Enter a MESSENGER, blowing + + But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell + Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? + MESSENGER. Ah, one that was a woeful looker-on + When as the noble Duke of York was slain, + Your princely father and my loving lord! + EDWARD. O, speak no more! for I have heard too much. + RICHARD. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. + MESSENGER. Environed he was with many foes, + And stood against them as the hope of Troy + Against the Greeks that would have ent'red Troy. + But Hercules himself must yield to odds; + And many strokes, though with a little axe, + Hews down and fells the hardest-timber'd oak. + By many hands your father was subdu'd; + But only slaught'red by the ireful arm + Of unrelenting Clifford and the Queen, + Who crown'd the gracious Duke in high despite, + Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept, + The ruthless Queen gave him to dry his cheeks + A napkin steeped in the harmless blood + Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain; + And after many scorns, many foul taunts, + They took his head, and on the gates of York + They set the same; and there it doth remain, + The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. + EDWARD. Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon, + Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay. + O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain + The flow'r of Europe for his chivalry; + And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, + For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee. + Now my soul's palace is become a prison. + Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body + Might in the ground be closed up in rest! + For never henceforth shall I joy again; + Never, O never, shall I see more joy. + RICHARD. I cannot weep, for all my body's moisture + Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart; + Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden, + For self-same wind that I should speak withal + Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, + And burns me up with flames that tears would quench. + To weep is to make less the depth of grief. + Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for me! + Richard, I bear thy name; I'll venge thy death, + Or die renowned by attempting it. + EDWARD. His name that valiant duke hath left with thee; + His dukedom and his chair with me is left. + RICHARD. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, + Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun; + For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom, say: + Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. + + March. Enter WARWICK, MONTAGUE, and their army + + WARWICK. How now, fair lords! What fare? What news abroad? + RICHARD. Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount + Our baleful news and at each word's deliverance + Stab poinards in our flesh till all were told, + The words would add more anguish than the wounds. + O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain! + EDWARD. O Warwick, Warwick! that Plantagenet + Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemption + Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death. + WARWICK. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears; + And now, to add more measure to your woes, + I come to tell you things sith then befall'n. + After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, + Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, + Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, + Were brought me of your loss and his depart. + I, then in London, keeper of the King, + Muster'd my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends, + And very well appointed, as I thought, + March'd toward Saint Albans to intercept the Queen, + Bearing the King in my behalf along; + For by my scouts I was advertised + That she was coming with a full intent + To dash our late decree in parliament + Touching King Henry's oath and your succession. + Short tale to make- we at Saint Albans met, + Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought; + But whether 'twas the coldness of the King, + Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, + That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen, + Or whether 'twas report of her success, + Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, + Who thunders to his captives blood and death, + I cannot judge; but, to conclude with truth, + Their weapons like to lightning came and went: + Our soldiers', like the night-owl's lazy flight + Or like an idle thresher with a flail, + Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. + I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, + With promise of high pay and great rewards, + But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, + And we in them no hope to win the day; + So that we fled: the King unto the Queen; + Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself, + In haste post-haste are come to join with you; + For in the marches here we heard you were + Making another head to fight again. + EDWARD. Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? + And when came George from Burgundy to England? + WARWICK. Some six miles off the Duke is with the soldiers; + And for your brother, he was lately sent + From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, + With aid of soldiers to this needful war. + RICHARD. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled. + Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, + But ne'er till now his scandal of retire. + WARWICK. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear; + For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine + Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head + And wring the awful sceptre from his fist, + Were he as famous and as bold in war + As he is fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer. + RICHARD. I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not. + 'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak. + But in this troublous time what's to be done? + Shall we go throw away our coats of steel + And wrap our bodies in black mourning-gowns, + Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads? + Or shall we on the helmets of our foes + Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? + If for the last, say 'Ay,' and to it, lords. + WARWICK. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out; + And therefore comes my brother Montague. + Attend me, lords. The proud insulting Queen, + With Clifford and the haught Northumberland, + And of their feather many moe proud birds, + Have wrought the easy-melting King like wax. + He swore consent to your succession, + His oath enrolled in the parliament; + And now to London all the crew are gone + To frustrate both his oath and what beside + May make against the house of Lancaster. + Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong. + Now if the help of Norfolk and myself, + With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March, + Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, + Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, + Why, Via! to London will we march amain, + And once again bestride our foaming steeds, + And once again cry 'Charge upon our foes!' + But never once again turn back and fly. + RICHARD. Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak. + Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day + That cries 'Retire!' if Warwick bid him stay. + EDWARD. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; + And when thou fail'st- as God forbid the hour!- + Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend. + WARWICK. No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York; + The next degree is England's royal throne, + For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd + In every borough as we pass along; + And he that throws not up his cap for joy + Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. + King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, + Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown, + But sound the trumpets and about our task. + RICHARD. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, + As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, + I come to pierce it or to give thee mine. + EDWARD. Then strike up drums. God and Saint George for us! + + Enter a MESSENGER + + WARWICK. How now! what news? + MESSENGER. The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me + The Queen is coming with a puissant host, + And craves your company for speedy counsel. + WARWICK. Why, then it sorts; brave warriors, let's away. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Before York + +Flourish. Enter KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, the PRINCE OF WALES, CLIFFORD, +NORTHUMBERLAND, with drum and trumpets + + QUEEN MARGARET. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. + Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy + That sought to be encompass'd with your crown. + Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? + KING HENRY. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck- + To see this sight, it irks my very soul. + Withhold revenge, dear God; 'tis not my fault, + Nor wittingly have I infring'd my vow. + CLIFFORD. My gracious liege, this too much lenity + And harmful pity must be laid aside. + To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? + Not to the beast that would usurp their den. + Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? + Not his that spoils her young before her face. + Who scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? + Not he that sets his foot upon her back, + The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on, + And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. + Ambitious York did level at thy crown, + Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows. + He, but a Duke, would have his son a king, + And raise his issue like a loving sire: + Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son, + Didst yield consent to disinherit him, + Which argued thee a most unloving father. + Unreasonable creatures feed their young; + And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, + Yet, in protection of their tender ones, + Who hath not seen them- even with those wings + Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight- + Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, + Offering their own lives in their young's defence + For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! + Were it not pity that this goodly boy + Should lose his birthright by his father's fault, + And long hereafter say unto his child + 'What my great-grandfather and grandsire got + My careless father fondly gave away'? + Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; + And let his manly face, which promiseth + Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart + To hold thine own and leave thine own with him. + KING HENRY. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, + Inferring arguments of mighty force. + But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear + That things ill got had ever bad success? + And happy always was it for that son + Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? + I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind; + And would my father had left me no more! + For all the rest is held at such a rate + As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep + Than in possession any jot of pleasure. + Ah, cousin York! would thy best friends did know + How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! + QUEEN MARGARET. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes are nigh, + And this soft courage makes your followers faint. + You promis'd knighthood to our forward son: + Unsheathe your sword and dub him presently. + Edward, kneel down. + KING HENRY. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; + And learn this lesson: Draw thy sword in right. + PRINCE OF WALES. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, + I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, + And in that quarrel use it to the death. + CLIFFORD. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Royal commanders, be in readiness; + For with a band of thirty thousand men + Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York, + And in the towns, as they do march along, + Proclaims him king, and many fly to him. + Darraign your battle, for they are at hand. + CLIFFORD. I would your Highness would depart the field: + The Queen hath best success when you are absent. + QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune. + KING HENRY. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Be it with resolution, then, to fight. + PRINCE OF WALES. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, + And hearten those that fight in your defence. + Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry 'Saint George!' + + March. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK, + NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and soldiers + + EDWARD. Now, perjur'd Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace + And set thy diadem upon my head, + Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? + QUEEN MARGARET. Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy. + Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms + Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king? + EDWARD. I am his king, and he should bow his knee. + I was adopted heir by his consent: + Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, + You that are King, though he do wear the crown, + Have caus'd him by new act of parliament + To blot out me and put his own son in. + CLIFFORD. And reason too: + Who should succeed the father but the son? + RICHARD. Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak! + CLIFFORD. Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer thee, + Or any he, the proudest of thy sort. + RICHARD. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not? + CLIFFORD. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. + RICHARD. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight. + WARWICK. What say'st thou, Henry? Wilt thou yield the crown? + QUEEN MARGARET. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick! Dare you speak? + When you and I met at Saint Albans last + Your legs did better service than your hands. + WARWICK. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. + CLIFFORD. You said so much before, and yet you fled. + WARWICK. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence. + NORTHUMBERLAND. No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay. + RICHARD. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently. + Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain + The execution of my big-swol'n heart + Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. + CLIFFORD. I slew thy father; call'st thou him a child? + RICHARD. Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, + As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; + But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed. + KING HENRY. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. + QUEEN MARGARET. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. + KING HENRY. I prithee give no limits to my tongue: + I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. + CLIFFORD. My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here + Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still. + RICHARD. Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword. + By Him that made us all, I am resolv'd + That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. + EDWARD. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? + A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day + That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown. + WARWICK. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; + For York in justice puts his armour on. + PRINCE OF WALES. If that be right which Warwick says is right, + There is no wrong, but every thing is right. + RICHARD. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; + For well I wot thou hast thy mother's tongue. + QUEEN MARGARET. But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam; + But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, + Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, + As venom toads or lizards' dreadful stings. + RICHARD. Iron of Naples hid with English gilt, + Whose father bears the title of a king- + As if a channel should be call'd the sea- + Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, + To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? + EDWARD. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns + To make this shameless callet know herself. + Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, + Although thy husband may be Menelaus; + And ne'er was Agamemmon's brother wrong'd + By that false woman as this king by thee. + His father revell'd in the heart of France, + And tam'd the King, and made the Dauphin stoop; + And had he match'd according to his state, + He might have kept that glory to this day; + But when he took a beggar to his bed + And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day, + Even then that sunshine brew'd a show'r for him + That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France + And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. + For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride? + Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; + And we, in pity of the gentle King, + Had slipp'd our claim until another age. + GEORGE. But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, + And that thy summer bred us no increase, + We set the axe to thy usurping root; + And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, + Yet know thou, since we have begun to strike, + We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down, + Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. + EDWARD. And in this resolution I defy thee; + Not willing any longer conference, + Since thou deniest the gentle King to speak. + Sound trumpets; let our bloody colours wave, + And either victory or else a grave! + QUEEN MARGARET. Stay, Edward. + EDWARD. No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay; + These words will cost ten thousand lives this day. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +A field of battle between Towton and Saxton, in Yorkshire + +Alarum; excursions. Enter WARWICK + + WARWICK. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, + I lay me down a little while to breathe; + For strokes receiv'd and many blows repaid + Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, + And spite of spite needs must I rest awhile. + + Enter EDWARD, running + + EDWARD. Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle death; + For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. + WARWICK. How now, my lord. What hap? What hope of good? + + Enter GEORGE + + GEORGE. Our hap is lost, our hope but sad despair; + Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us. + What counsel give you? Whither shall we fly? + EDWARD. Bootless is flight: they follow us with wings; + And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. + + Enter RICHARD + + RICHARD. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? + Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, + Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance; + And in the very pangs of death he cried, + Like to a dismal clangor heard from far, + 'Warwick, revenge! Brother, revenge my death.' + So, underneath the belly of their steeds, + That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, + The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. + WARWICK. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood. + I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. + Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, + Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage, + And look upon, as if the tragedy + Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? + Here on my knee I vow to God above + I'll never pause again, never stand still, + Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine + Or fortune given me measure of revenge. + EDWARD. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine, + And in this vow do chain my soul to thine! + And ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face + I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to Thee, + Thou setter-up and plucker-down of kings, + Beseeching Thee, if with Thy will it stands + That to my foes this body must be prey, + Yet that Thy brazen gates of heaven may ope + And give sweet passage to my sinful soul. + Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, + Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth. + RICHARD. Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick, + Let me embrace thee in my weary arms. + I that did never weep now melt with woe + That winter should cut off our spring-time so. + WARWICK. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, farewell. + GEORGE. Yet let us all together to our troops, + And give them leave to fly that will not stay, + And call them pillars that will stand to us; + And if we thrive, promise them such rewards + As victors wear at the Olympian games. + This may plant courage in their quailing breasts, + For yet is hope of life and victory. + Forslow no longer; make we hence amain. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Another part of the field + +Excursions. Enter RICHARD and CLIFFORD + + RICHARD. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone. + Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, + And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, + Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. + CLIFFORD. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone. + This is the hand that stabbed thy father York; + And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; + And here's the heart that triumphs in their death + And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother + To execute the like upon thyself; + And so, have at thee! [They fight] + + Enter WARWICK; CLIFFORD flies + + RICHARD. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase; + For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Another part of the field + +Alarum. Enter KING HENRY alone + + KING HENRY. This battle fares like to the morning's war, + When dying clouds contend with growing light, + What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, + Can neither call it perfect day nor night. + Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea + Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind; + Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea + Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind. + Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; + Now one the better, then another best; + Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, + Yet neither conqueror nor conquered. + So is the equal poise of this fell war. + Here on this molehill will I sit me down. + To whom God will, there be the victory! + For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, + Have chid me from the battle, swearing both + They prosper best of all when I am thence. + Would I were dead, if God's good will were so! + For what is in this world but grief and woe? + O God! methinks it were a happy life + To be no better than a homely swain; + To sit upon a hill, as I do now, + To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, + Thereby to see the minutes how they run- + How many makes the hour full complete, + How many hours brings about the day, + How many days will finish up the year, + How many years a mortal man may live. + When this is known, then to divide the times- + So many hours must I tend my flock; + So many hours must I take my rest; + So many hours must I contemplate; + So many hours must I sport myself; + So many days my ewes have been with young; + So many weeks ere the poor fools will can; + So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: + So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, + Pass'd over to the end they were created, + Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. + Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! + Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade + To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, + Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy + To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? + O yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. + And to conclude: the shepherd's homely curds, + His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, + His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, + All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, + Is far beyond a prince's delicates- + His viands sparkling in a golden cup, + His body couched in a curious bed, + When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. + + Alarum. Enter a son that hath kill'd his Father, at + one door; and a FATHER that hath kill'd his Son, at + another door + + SON. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. + This man whom hand to hand I slew in fight + May be possessed with some store of crowns; + And I, that haply take them from him now, + May yet ere night yield both my life and them + To some man else, as this dead man doth me. + Who's this? O God! It is my father's face, + Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. + O heavy times, begetting such events! + From London by the King was I press'd forth; + My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, + Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; + And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, + Have by my hands of life bereaved him. + Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did. + And pardon, father, for I knew not thee. + My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; + And no more words till they have flow'd their fill. + KING HENRY. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! + Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, + Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. + Weep, wretched man; I'll aid thee tear for tear; + And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, + Be blind with tears and break o'ercharg'd with grief. + + Enter FATHER, bearing of his SON + + FATHER. Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me, + Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold; + For I have bought it with an hundred blows. + But let me see. Is this our foeman's face? + Ah, no, no, no, no, it is mine only son! + Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, + Throw up thine eye! See, see what show'rs arise, + Blown with the windy tempest of my heart + Upon thy wounds, that kills mine eye and heart! + O, pity, God, this miserable age! + What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, + Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, + This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! + O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, + And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! + KING HENRY. Woe above woe! grief more than common grief! + O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! + O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! + The red rose and the white are on his face, + The fatal colours of our striving houses: + The one his purple blood right well resembles; + The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth. + Wither one rose, and let the other flourish! + If you contend, a thousand lives must perish. + SON. How will my mother for a father's death + Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied! + FATHER. How will my wife for slaughter of my son + Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied! + KING HENRY. How will the country for these woeful chances + Misthink the King, and not be satisfied! + SON. Was ever son so rued a father's death? + FATHER. Was ever father so bemoan'd his son? + KING HENRY. Was ever king so griev'd for subjects' woe? + Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much. + SON. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. + Exit with the body + FATHER. These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet; + My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre, + For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go; + My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; + And so obsequious will thy father be, + Even for the loss of thee, having no more, + As Priam was for all his valiant sons. + I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, + For I have murdered where I should not kill. + Exit with the body + KING HENRY. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, + Here sits a king more woeful than you are. + + Alarums, excursions. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, + PRINCE OF WALES, and EXETER + + PRINCE OF WALES. Fly, father, fly; for all your friends are fled, + And Warwick rages like a chafed bull. + Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. + QUEEN MARGARET. Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain. + Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds + Having the fearful flying hare in sight, + With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, + And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, + Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. + EXETER. Away! for vengeance comes along with them. + Nay, stay not to expostulate; make speed; + Or else come after. I'll away before. + KING HENRY. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter. + Not that I fear to stay, but love to go + Whither the Queen intends. Forward; away! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +Another part of the field + +A loud alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded + + CLIFFORD. Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, + Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light. + O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow + More than my body's parting with my soul! + My love and fear glu'd many friends to thee; + And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts, + Impairing Henry, strength'ning misproud York. + The common people swarm like summer flies; + And whither fly the gnats but to the sun? + And who shines now but Henry's enemies? + O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent + That Phaethon should check thy fiery steeds, + Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth! + And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, + Or as thy father and his father did, + Giving no ground unto the house of York, + They never then had sprung like summer flies; + I and ten thousand in this luckless realm + Had left no mourning widows for our death; + And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. + For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? + And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity? + Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds. + No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight. + The foe is merciless and will not pity; + For at their hands I have deserv'd no pity. + The air hath got into my deadly wounds, + And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. + Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest; + I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms: split my breast. + [He faints] + + Alarum and retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD + MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and soldiers + + EDWARD. Now breathe we, lords. Good fortune bids us pause + And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. + Some troops pursue the bloody-minded Queen + That led calm Henry, though he were a king, + As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust, + Command an argosy to stern the waves. + But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? + WARWICK. No, 'tis impossible he should escape; + For, though before his face I speak the words, + Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave; + And, whereso'er he is, he's surely dead. + [CLIFFORD groans, and dies] + RICHARD. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? + A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. + See who it is. + EDWARD. And now the battle's ended, + If friend or foe, let him be gently used. + RICHARD. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford; + Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch + In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, + But set his murd'ring knife unto the root + From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring- + I mean our princely father, Duke of York. + WARWICK. From off the gates of York fetch down the head, + Your father's head, which Clifford placed there; + Instead whereof let this supply the room. + Measure for measure must be answered. + EDWARD. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, + That nothing sung but death to us and ours. + Now death shall stop his dismal threat'ning sound, + And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. + WARWICK. I think his understanding is bereft. + Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee? + Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, + And he nor sees nor hears us what we say. + RICHARD. O, would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth. + 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, + Because he would avoid such bitter taunts + Which in the time of death he gave our father. + GEORGE. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words. + RICHARD. Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace. + EDWARD. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. + WARWICK. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. + GEORGE. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. + RICHARD. Thou didst love York, and I am son to York. + EDWARD. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. + GEORGE. Where's Captain Margaret, to fence you now? + WARWICK. They mock thee, Clifford; swear as thou wast wont. + RICHARD. What, not an oath? Nay, then the world goes hard + When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath. + I know by that he's dead; and by my soul, + If this right hand would buy two hours' life, + That I in all despite might rail at him, + This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood + Stifle the villain whose unstanched thirst + York and young Rutland could not satisfy. + WARWICK. Ay, but he's dead. Off with the traitor's head, + And rear it in the place your father's stands. + And now to London with triumphant march, + There to be crowned England's royal King; + From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, + And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen. + So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; + And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread + The scatt'red foe that hopes to rise again; + For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, + Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears. + First will I see the coronation; + And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea + To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. + EDWARD. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be; + For in thy shoulder do I build my seat, + And never will I undertake the thing + Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. + Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester; + And George, of Clarence; Warwick, as ourself, + Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best. + RICHARD. Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester; + For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous. + WARWICK. Tut, that's a foolish observation. + Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London + To see these honours in possession. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +A chase in the north of England + +Enter two KEEPERS, with cross-bows in their hands + + FIRST KEEPER. Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves, + For through this laund anon the deer will come; + And in this covert will we make our stand, + Culling the principal of all the deer. + SECOND KEEPER. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. + FIRST KEEPER. That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow + Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. + Here stand we both, and aim we at the best; + And, for the time shall not seem tedious, + I'll tell thee what befell me on a day + In this self-place where now we mean to stand. + SECOND KEEPER. Here comes a man; let's stay till he be past. + + Enter KING HENRY, disguised, with a prayer-book + + KING HENRY. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, + To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. + No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; + Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, + Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast anointed. + No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, + No humble suitors press to speak for right, + No, not a man comes for redress of thee; + For how can I help them and not myself? + FIRST KEEPER. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee. + This is the quondam King; let's seize upon him. + KING HENRY. Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, + For wise men say it is the wisest course. + SECOND KEEPER. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him. + FIRST KEEPER. Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little more. + KING HENRY. My Queen and son are gone to France for aid; + And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick + Is thither gone to crave the French King's sister + To wife for Edward. If this news be true, + Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost; + For Warwick is a subtle orator, + And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. + By this account, then, Margaret may win him; + For she's a woman to be pitied much. + Her sighs will make a batt'ry in his breast; + Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; + The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn; + And Nero will be tainted with remorse + To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears. + Ay, but she's come to beg: Warwick, to give. + She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry: + He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. + She weeps, and says her Henry is depos'd: + He smiles, and says his Edward is install'd; + That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more; + Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, + Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, + And in conclusion wins the King from her + With promise of his sister, and what else, + To strengthen and support King Edward's place. + O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, + Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn! + SECOND KEEPER. Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings and queens? + KING HENRY. More than I seem, and less than I was born to: + A man at least, for less I should not be; + And men may talk of kings, and why not I? + SECOND KEEPER. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. + KING HENRY. Why, so I am- in mind; and that's enough. + SECOND KEEPER. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown? + KING HENRY. My crown is in my heart, not on my head; + Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, + Not to be seen. My crown is call'd content; + A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. + SECOND KEEPER. Well, if you be a king crown'd with content, + Your crown content and you must be contented + To go along with us; for as we think, + You are the king King Edward hath depos'd; + And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, + Will apprehend you as his enemy. + KING HENRY. But did you never swear, and break an oath? + SECOND KEEPER. No, never such an oath; nor will not now. + KING HENRY. Where did you dwell when I was King of England? + SECOND KEEPER. Here in this country, where we now remain. + KING HENRY. I was anointed king at nine months old; + My father and my grandfather were kings; + And you were sworn true subjects unto me; + And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths? + FIRST KEEPER. No; + For we were subjects but while you were king. + KING HENRY. Why, am I dead? Do I not breathe a man? + Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear! + Look, as I blow this feather from my face, + And as the air blows it to me again, + Obeying with my wind when I do blow, + And yielding to another when it blows, + Commanded always by the greater gust, + Such is the lightness of you common men. + But do not break your oaths; for of that sin + My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. + Go where you will, the King shall be commanded; + And be you kings: command, and I'll obey. + FIRST KEEPER. We are true subjects to the King, King Edward. + KING HENRY. So would you be again to Henry, + If he were seated as King Edward is. + FIRST KEEPER. We charge you, in God's name and the King's, + To go with us unto the officers. + KING HENRY. In God's name, lead; your King's name be obey'd; + And what God will, that let your King perform; + And what he will, I humbly yield unto. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE II. +London. The palace + +Enter KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and LADY GREY + + KING EDWARD. Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Albans' field + This lady's husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain, + His land then seiz'd on by the conqueror. + Her suit is now to repossess those lands; + Which we in justice cannot well deny, + Because in quarrel of the house of York + The worthy gentleman did lose his life. + GLOUCESTER. Your Highness shall do well to grant her suit; + It were dishonour to deny it her. + KING EDWARD. It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside to CLARENCE] Yea, is it so? + I see the lady hath a thing to grant, + Before the King will grant her humble suit. + CLARENCE. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] He knows the game; how true he + keeps the wind! + GLOUCESTER. [Aside to CLARENCE] Silence! + KING EDWARD. Widow, we will consider of your suit; + And come some other time to know our mind. + LADY GREY. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay. + May it please your Highness to resolve me now; + And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside] Ay, widow? Then I'll warrant you all your + lands, + An if what pleases him shall pleasure you. + Fight closer or, good faith, you'll catch a blow. + CLARENCE. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] I fear her not, unless she chance + to fall. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside to CLARENCE] God forbid that, for he'll take + vantages. + KING EDWARD. How many children hast thou, widow, tell me. + CLARENCE. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] I think he means to beg a child of + her. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside to CLARENCE] Nay, then whip me; he'll rather + give her two. + LADY GREY. Three, my most gracious lord. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside] You shall have four if you'll be rul'd by him. + KING EDWARD. 'Twere pity they should lose their father's lands. + LADY GREY. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it, then. + KING EDWARD. Lords, give us leave; I'll try this widow's wit. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside] Ay, good leave have you; for you will have + leave + Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch. + [GLOUCESTER and CLARENCE withdraw] + KING EDWARD. Now tell me, madam, do you love your children? + LADY GREY. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. + KING EDWARD. And would you not do much to do them good? + LADY GREY. To do them good I would sustain some harm. + KING EDWARD. Then get your husband's lands, to do them good. + LADY GREY. Therefore I came unto your Majesty. + KING EDWARD. I'll tell you how these lands are to be got. + LADY GREY. So shall you bind me to your Highness' service. + KING EDWARD. What service wilt thou do me if I give them? + LADY GREY. What you command that rests in me to do. + KING EDWARD. But you will take exceptions to my boon. + LADY GREY. No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it. + KING EDWARD. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask. + LADY GREY. Why, then I will do what your Grace commands. + GLOUCESTER. He plies her hard; and much rain wears the marble. + CLARENCE. As red as fire! Nay, then her wax must melt. + LADY GREY. Why stops my lord? Shall I not hear my task? + KING EDWARD. An easy task; 'tis but to love a king. + LADY GREY. That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject. + KING EDWARD. Why, then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee. + LADY GREY. I take my leave with many thousand thanks. + GLOUCESTER. The match is made; she seals it with a curtsy. + KING EDWARD. But stay thee- 'tis the fruits of love I mean. + LADY GREY. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege. + KING EDWARD. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. + What love, thinkst thou, I sue so much to get? + LADY GREY. My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers; + That love which virtue begs and virtue grants. + KING EDWARD. No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. + LADY GREY. Why, then you mean not as I thought you did. + KING EDWARD. But now you partly may perceive my mind. + LADY GREY. My mind will never grant what I perceive + Your Highness aims at, if I aim aright. + KING EDWARD. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. + LADY GREY. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison. + KING EDWARD. Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands. + LADY GREY. Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower; + For by that loss I will not purchase them. + KING EDWARD. Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily. + LADY GREY. Herein your Highness wrongs both them and me. + But, mighty lord, this merry inclination + Accords not with the sadness of my suit. + Please you dismiss me, either with ay or no. + KING EDWARD. Ay, if thou wilt say ay to my request; + No, if thou dost say no to my demand. + LADY GREY. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. + GLOUCESTER. The widow likes him not; she knits her brows. + CLARENCE. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. + KING EDWARD. [Aside] Her looks doth argue her replete with modesty; + Her words doth show her wit incomparable; + All her perfections challenge sovereignty. + One way or other, she is for a king; + And she shall be my love, or else my queen. + Say that King Edward take thee for his queen? + LADY GREY. 'Tis better said than done, my gracious lord. + I am a subject fit to jest withal, + But far unfit to be a sovereign. + KING EDWARD. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee + I speak no more than what my soul intends; + And that is to enjoy thee for my love. + LADY GREY. And that is more than I will yield unto. + I know I am too mean to be your queen, + And yet too good to be your concubine. + KING EDWARD. You cavil, widow; I did mean my queen. + LADY GREY. 'Twill grieve your Grace my sons should call you father. + KING EDWARD.No more than when my daughters call thee mother. + Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children; + And, by God's Mother, I, being but a bachelor, + Have other some. Why, 'tis a happy thing + To be the father unto many sons. + Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen. + GLOUCESTER. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift. + CLARENCE. When he was made a shriver, 'twas for shrift. + KING EDWARD. Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. + GLOUCESTER. The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad. + KING EDWARD. You'd think it strange if I should marry her. + CLARENCE. To who, my lord? + KING EDWARD. Why, Clarence, to myself. + GLOUCESTER. That would be ten days' wonder at the least. + CLARENCE. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. + GLOUCESTER. By so much is the wonder in extremes. + KING EDWARD. Well, jest on, brothers; I can tell you both + Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. + + Enter a NOBLEMAN + + NOBLEMAN. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken + And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. + KING EDWARD. See that he be convey'd unto the Tower. + And go we, brothers, to the man that took him + To question of his apprehension. + Widow, go you along. Lords, use her honourably. + Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER + GLOUCESTER. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. + Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all, + That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring + To cross me from the golden time I look for! + And yet, between my soul's desire and me- + The lustful Edward's title buried- + Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, + And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies, + To take their rooms ere I can place myself. + A cold premeditation for my purpose! + Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty; + Like one that stands upon a promontory + And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, + Wishing his foot were equal with his eye; + And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, + Saying he'll lade it dry to have his way- + So do I wish the crown, being so far off; + And so I chide the means that keeps me from it; + And so I say I'll cut the causes off, + Flattering me with impossibilities. + My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, + Unless my hand and strength could equal them. + Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; + What other pleasure can the world afford? + I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, + And deck my body in gay ornaments, + And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. + O miserable thought! and more unlikely + Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns. + Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb; + And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, + She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe + To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub + To make an envious mountain on my back, + Where sits deformity to mock my body; + To shape my legs of an unequal size; + To disproportion me in every part, + Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp + That carries no impression like the dam. + And am I, then, a man to be belov'd? + O monstrous fault to harbour such a thought! + Then, since this earth affords no joy to me + But to command, to check, to o'erbear such + As are of better person than myself, + I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown, + And whiles I live t' account this world but hell, + Until my misshap'd trunk that bear this head + Be round impaled with a glorious crown. + And yet I know not how to get the crown, + For many lives stand between me and home; + And I- like one lost in a thorny wood + That rents the thorns and is rent with the thorns, + Seeking a way and straying from the way + Not knowing how to find the open air, + But toiling desperately to find it out- + Torment myself to catch the English crown; + And from that torment I will free myself + Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. + Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile, + And cry 'Content!' to that which grieves my heart, + And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, + And frame my face to all occasions. + I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; + I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; + I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, + Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, + And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. + I can add colours to the chameleon, + Change shapes with Protheus for advantages, + And set the murderous Machiavel to school. + Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? + Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down. Exit + + + + +SCENE III. +France. The KING'S palace + +Flourish. Enter LEWIS the French King, his sister BONA, +his Admiral call'd BOURBON; PRINCE EDWARD, QUEEN MARGARET, +and the EARL of OXFORD. LEWIS sits, and riseth up again + + LEWIS. Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret, + Sit down with us. It ill befits thy state + And birth that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit. + QUEEN MARGARET. No, mighty King of France. Now Margaret + Must strike her sail and learn a while to serve + Where kings command. I was, I must confess, + Great Albion's Queen in former golden days; + But now mischance hath trod my title down + And with dishonour laid me on the ground, + Where I must take like seat unto my fortune, + And to my humble seat conform myself. + LEWIS. Why, say, fair Queen, whence springs this deep despair? + QUEEN MARGARET. From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears + And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares. + LEWIS. Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself, + And sit thee by our side. [Seats her by him] Yield not thy neck + To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind + Still ride in triumph over all mischance. + Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; + It shall be eas'd, if France can yield relief. + QUEEN MARGARET. Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts + And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. + Now therefore be it known to noble Lewis + That Henry, sole possessor of my love, + Is, of a king, become a banish'd man, + And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn; + While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York + Usurps the regal title and the seat + Of England's true-anointed lawful King. + This is the cause that I, poor Margaret, + With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir, + Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; + And if thou fail us, all our hope is done. + Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; + Our people and our peers are both misled, + Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight, + And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight. + LEWIS. Renowned Queen, with patience calm the storm, + While we bethink a means to break it off. + QUEEN MARGARET. The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe. + LEWIS. The more I stay, the more I'll succour thee. + QUEEN MARGARET. O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow. + And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow! + + Enter WARWICK + + LEWIS. What's he approacheth boldly to our presence? + QUEEN MARGARET. Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest friend. + LEWIS. Welcome, brave Warwick! What brings thee to France? + [He descends. She ariseth] + QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, now begins a second storm to rise; + For this is he that moves both wind and tide. + WARWICK. From worthy Edward, King of Albion, + My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, + I come, in kindness and unfeigned love, + First to do greetings to thy royal person, + And then to crave a league of amity, + And lastly to confirm that amity + With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant + That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister, + To England's King in lawful marriage. + QUEEN MARGARET. [Aside] If that go forward, Henry's hope is done. + WARWICK. [To BONA] And, gracious madam, in our king's behalf, + I am commanded, with your leave and favour, + Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue + To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart; + Where fame, late ent'ring at his heedful ears, + Hath plac'd thy beauty's image and thy virtue. + QUEEN MARGARET. King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak + Before you answer Warwick. His demand + Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, + But from deceit bred by necessity; + For how can tyrants safely govern home + Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? + To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice, + That Henry liveth still; but were he dead, + Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's son. + Look therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage + Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour; + For though usurpers sway the rule a while + Yet heav'ns are just, and time suppresseth wrongs. + WARWICK. Injurious Margaret! + PRINCE OF WALES. And why not Queen? + WARWICK. Because thy father Henry did usurp; + And thou no more art prince than she is queen. + OXFORD. Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, + Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain; + And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, + Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; + And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, + Who by his prowess conquered all France. + From these our Henry lineally descends. + WARWICK. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse + You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost + All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten? + Methinks these peers of France should smile at that. + But for the rest: you tell a pedigree + Of threescore and two years- a silly time + To make prescription for a kingdom's worth. + OXFORD. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege, + Whom thou obeyed'st thirty and six years, + And not betray thy treason with a blush? + WARWICK. Can Oxford that did ever fence the right + Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? + For shame! Leave Henry, and call Edward king. + OXFORD. Call him my king by whose injurious doom + My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere, + Was done to death; and more than so, my father, + Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years, + When nature brought him to the door of death? + No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm, + This arm upholds the house of Lancaster. + WARWICK. And I the house of York. + LEWIS. Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, + Vouchsafe at our request to stand aside + While I use further conference with Warwick. + [They stand aloof] + QUEEN MARGARET. Heavens grant that Warwick's words bewitch him not! + LEWIS. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon thy conscience, + Is Edward your true king? for I were loath + To link with him that were not lawful chosen. + WARWICK. Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour. + LEWIS. But is he gracious in the people's eye? + WARWICK. The more that Henry was unfortunate. + LEWIS. Then further: all dissembling set aside, + Tell me for truth the measure of his love + Unto our sister Bona. + WARWICK. Such it seems + As may beseem a monarch like himself. + Myself have often heard him say and swear + That this his love was an eternal plant + Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, + The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun, + Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, + Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain. + LEWIS. Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve. + BONA. Your grant or your denial shall be mine. + [To WARWICK] Yet I confess that often ere this day, + When I have heard your king's desert recounted, + Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire. + LEWIS. Then, Warwick, thus: our sister shall be Edward's. + And now forthwith shall articles be drawn + Touching the jointure that your king must make, + Which with her dowry shall be counterpois'd. + Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness + That Bona shall be wife to the English king. + PRINCE OF WALES. To Edward, but not to the English king. + QUEEN MARGARET. Deceitful Warwick, it was thy device + By this alliance to make void my suit. + Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry's friend. + LEWIS. And still is friend to him and Margaret. + But if your title to the crown be weak, + As may appear by Edward's good success, + Then 'tis but reason that I be releas'd + From giving aid which late I promised. + Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand + That your estate requires and mine can yield. + WARWICK. Henry now lives in Scotland at his case, + Where having nothing, nothing can he lose. + And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, + You have a father able to maintain you, + And better 'twere you troubled him than France. + QUEEN MARGARET. Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, + Proud setter up and puller down of kings! + I will not hence till with my talk and tears, + Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold + Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love; + For both of you are birds of self-same feather. + [POST blowing a horn within] + LEWIS. Warwick, this is some post to us or thee. + + Enter the POST + + POST. My lord ambassador, these letters are for you, + Sent from your brother, Marquis Montague. + These from our King unto your Majesty. + And, madam, these for you; from whom I know not. + [They all read their letters] + OXFORD. I like it well that our fair Queen and mistress + Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his. + PRINCE OF WALES. Nay, mark how Lewis stamps as he were nettled. + I hope all's for the best. + LEWIS. Warwick, what are thy news? And yours, fair Queen? + QUEEN MARGARET. Mine such as fill my heart with unhop'd joys. + WARWICK. Mine, full of sorrow and heart's discontent. + LEWIS. What, has your king married the Lady Grey? + And now, to soothe your forgery and his, + Sends me a paper to persuade me patience? + Is this th' alliance that he seeks with France? + Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner? + QUEEN MARGARET. I told your Majesty as much before. + This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty. + WARWICK. King Lewis, I here protest in sight of heaven, + And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, + That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's- + No more my king, for he dishonours me, + But most himself, if he could see his shame. + Did I forget that by the house of York + My father came untimely to his death? + Did I let pass th' abuse done to my niece? + Did I impale him with the regal crown? + Did I put Henry from his native right? + And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame? + Shame on himself! for my desert is honour; + And to repair my honour lost for him + I here renounce him and return to Henry. + My noble Queen, let former grudges pass, + And henceforth I am thy true servitor. + I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona, + And replant Henry in his former state. + QUEEN MARGARET. Warwick, these words have turn'd my hate to love; + And I forgive and quite forget old faults, + And joy that thou becom'st King Henry's friend. + WARWICK. So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, + That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us + With some few bands of chosen soldiers, + I'll undertake to land them on our coast + And force the tyrant from his seat by war. + 'Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him; + And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, + He's very likely now to fall from him + For matching more for wanton lust than honour + Or than for strength and safety of our country. + BONA. Dear brother, how shall Bona be reveng'd + But by thy help to this distressed queen? + QUEEN MARGARET. Renowned Prince, how shall poor Henry live + Unless thou rescue him from foul despair? + BONA. My quarrel and this English queen's are one. + WARWICK. And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with yours. + LEWIS. And mine with hers, and thine, and Margaret's. + Therefore, at last, I firmly am resolv'd + You shall have aid. + QUEEN MARGARET. Let me give humble thanks for all at once. + LEWIS. Then, England's messenger, return in post + And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, + That Lewis of France is sending over masquers + To revel it with him and his new bride. + Thou seest what's past; go fear thy king withal. + BONA. Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, + I'll wear the willow-garland for his sake. + QUEEN MARGARET. Tell him my mourning weeds are laid aside, + And I am ready to put armour on. + WARWICK. Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, + And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long. + There's thy reward; be gone. Exit POST + LEWIS. But, Warwick, + Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men, + Shall cross the seas and bid false Edward battle: + And, as occasion serves, this noble Queen + And Prince shall follow with a fresh supply. + Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt: + What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty? + WARWICK. This shall assure my constant loyalty: + That if our Queen and this young Prince agree, + I'll join mine eldest daughter and my joy + To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands. + QUEEN MARGARET. Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion. + Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, + Therefore delay not- give thy hand to Warwick; + And with thy hand thy faith irrevocable + That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine. + PRINCE OF WALES. Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it; + And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand. + [He gives his hand to WARWICK] + LEWIS. stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied; + And thou, Lord Bourbon, our High Admiral, + Shall waft them over with our royal fleet. + I long till Edward fall by war's mischance + For mocking marriage with a dame of France. + Exeunt all but WARWICK + WARWICK. I came from Edward as ambassador, + But I return his sworn and mortal foe. + Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, + But dreadful war shall answer his demand. + Had he none else to make a stale but me? + Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. + I was the chief that rais'd him to the crown, + And I'll be chief to bring him down again; + Not that I pity Henry's misery, + But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +London. The palace + +Enter GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET, and MONTAGUE + + GLOUCESTER. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you + Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey? + Hath not our brother made a worthy choice? + CLARENCE. Alas, you know 'tis far from hence to France! + How could he stay till Warwick made return? + SOMERSET. My lords, forbear this talk; here comes the King. + + Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, attended; LADY + GREY, as Queen; PEMBROKE, STAFFORD, HASTINGS, + and others. Four stand on one side, and four on the other + + GLOUCESTER. And his well-chosen bride. + CLARENCE. I mind to tell him plainly what I think. + KING EDWARD. Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our choice + That you stand pensive as half malcontent? + CLARENCE. As well as Lewis of France or the Earl of Warwick, + Which are so weak of courage and in judgment + That they'll take no offence at our abuse. + KING EDWARD. Suppose they take offence without a cause; + They are but Lewis and Warwick: I am Edward, + Your King and Warwick's and must have my will. + GLOUCESTER. And shall have your will, because our King. + Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well. + KING EDWARD. Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too? + GLOUCESTER. Not I. + No, God forbid that I should wish them sever'd + Whom God hath join'd together; ay, and 'twere pity + To sunder them that yoke so well together. + KING EDWARD. Setting your scorns and your mislike aside, + Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey + Should not become my wife and England's Queen. + And you too, Somerset and Montague, + Speak freely what you think. + CLARENCE. Then this is mine opinion: that King Lewis + Becomes your enemy for mocking him + About the marriage of the Lady Bona. + GLOUCESTER. And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge, + Is now dishonoured by this new marriage. + KING EDWARD. What if both Lewis and Warwick be appeas'd + By such invention as I can devise? + MONTAGUE. Yet to have join'd with France in such alliance + Would more have strength'ned this our commonwealth + 'Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage. + HASTINGS. Why, knows not Montague that of itself + England is safe, if true within itself? + MONTAGUE. But the safer when 'tis back'd with France. + HASTINGS. 'Tis better using France than trusting France. + Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas + Which He hath giv'n for fence impregnable, + And with their helps only defend ourselves. + In them and in ourselves our safety lies. + CLARENCE. For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves + To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford. + KING EDWARD. Ay, what of that? it was my will and grant; + And for this once my will shall stand for law. + GLOUCESTER. And yet methinks your Grace hath not done well + To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales + Unto the brother of your loving bride. + She better would have fitted me or Clarence; + But in your bride you bury brotherhood. + CLARENCE. Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir + Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son, + And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. + KING EDWARD. Alas, poor Clarence! Is it for a wife + That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee. + CLARENCE. In choosing for yourself you show'd your judgment, + Which being shallow, you shall give me leave + To play the broker in mine own behalf; + And to that end I shortly mind to leave you. + KING EDWARD. Leave me or tarry, Edward will be King, + And not be tied unto his brother's will. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. My lords, before it pleas'd his Majesty + To raise my state to title of a queen, + Do me but right, and you must all confess + That I was not ignoble of descent: + And meaner than myself have had like fortune. + But as this title honours me and mine, + So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing, + Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow. + KING EDWARD. My love, forbear to fawn upon their frowns. + What danger or what sorrow can befall thee, + So long as Edward is thy constant friend + And their true sovereign whom they must obey? + Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too, + Unless they seek for hatred at my hands; + Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, + And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside] I hear, yet say not much, but think the more. + + Enter a POST + + KING EDWARD. Now, messenger, what letters or what news + From France? + MESSENGER. My sovereign liege, no letters, and few words, + But such as I, without your special pardon, + Dare not relate. + KING EDWARD. Go to, we pardon thee; therefore, in brief, + Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them. + What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters? + MESSENGER. At my depart, these were his very words: + 'Go tell false Edward, the supposed king, + That Lewis of France is sending over masquers + To revel it with him and his new bride.' + KING EDWARD. IS Lewis so brave? Belike he thinks me Henry. + But what said Lady Bona to my marriage? + MESSENGER. These were her words, utt'red with mild disdain: + 'Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, + I'll wear the willow-garland for his sake.' + KING EDWARD. I blame not her: she could say little less; + She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen? + For I have heard that she was there in place. + MESSENGER. 'Tell him' quoth she 'my mourning weeds are done, + And I am ready to put armour on.' + KING EDWARD. Belike she minds to play the Amazon. + But what said Warwick to these injuries? + MESSENGER. He, more incens'd against your Majesty + Than all the rest, discharg'd me with these words: + 'Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong; + And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long.' + KING EDWARD. Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so proud words? + Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd. + They shall have wars and pay for their presumption. + But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret? + MESSENGER. Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so link'd in friendship + That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter. + CLARENCE. Belike the elder; Clarence will have the younger. + Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast, + For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter; + That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage + I may not prove inferior to yourself. + You that love me and Warwick, follow me. + Exit, and SOMERSET follows + GLOUCESTER. [Aside] Not I. + My thoughts aim at a further matter; I + Stay not for the love of Edward but the crown. + KING EDWARD. Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick! + Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen; + And haste is needful in this desp'rate case. + Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf + Go levy men and make prepare for war; + They are already, or quickly will be landed. + Myself in person will straight follow you. + Exeunt PEMBROKE and STAFFORD + But ere I go, Hastings and Montague, + Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, + Are near to Warwick by blood and by alliance. + Tell me if you love Warwick more than me? + If it be so, then both depart to him: + I rather wish you foes than hollow friends. + But if you mind to hold your true obedience, + Give me assurance with some friendly vow, + That I may never have you in suspect. + MONTAGUE. So God help Montague as he proves true! + HASTINGS. And Hastings as he favours Edward's cause! + KING EDWARD. Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us? + GLOUCESTER. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you. + KING EDWARD. Why, so! then am I sure of victory. + Now therefore let us hence, and lose no hour + Till we meet Warwick with his foreign pow'r. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +A plain in Warwickshire + +Enter WARWICK and OXFORD, with French soldiers + + WARWICK. Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well; + The common people by numbers swarm to us. + + Enter CLARENCE and SOMERSET + + But see where Somerset and Clarence comes. + Speak suddenly, my lords- are we all friends? + CLARENCE. Fear not that, my lord. + WARWICK. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick; + And welcome, Somerset. I hold it cowardice + To rest mistrustful where a noble heart + Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love; + Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother, + Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings. + But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter shall be thine. + And now what rests but, in night's coverture, + Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd, + His soldiers lurking in the towns about, + And but attended by a simple guard, + We may surprise and take him at our pleasure? + Our scouts have found the adventure very easy; + That as Ulysses and stout Diomede + With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents, + And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds, + So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle, + At unawares may beat down Edward's guard + And seize himself- I say not 'slaughter him,' + For I intend but only to surprise him. + You that will follow me to this attempt, + Applaud the name of Henry with your leader. + [They all cry 'Henry!'] + Why then, let's on our way in silent sort. + For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George! Exeunt + + + +SCENE III. +Edward's camp, near Warwick + +Enter three WATCHMEN, to guard the KING'S tent + + FIRST WATCHMAN. Come on, my masters, each man take his stand; + The King by this is set him down to sleep. + SECOND WATCHMAN. What, will he not to bed? + FIRST WATCHMAN. Why, no; for he hath made a solemn vow + Never to lie and take his natural rest + Till Warwick or himself be quite suppress'd. + SECOND WATCHMAN. To-morrow then, belike, shall be the day, + If Warwick be so near as men report. + THIRD WATCHMAN. But say, I pray, what nobleman is that + That with the King here resteth in his tent? + FIRST WATCHMAN. 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the King's chiefest friend. + THIRD WATCHMAN. O, is it So? But why commands the King + That his chief followers lodge in towns about him, + While he himself keeps in the cold field? + SECOND WATCHMAN. 'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous. + THIRD WATCHMAN. Ay, but give me worship and quietness; + I like it better than dangerous honour. + If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, + 'Tis to be doubted he would waken him. + FIRST WATCHMAN. Unless our halberds did shut up his passage. + SECOND WATCHMAN. Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent + But to defend his person from night-foes? + + Enter WARWICK, CLARENCE, OXFORD, SOMERSET, + and French soldiers, silent all + + WARWICK. This is his tent; and see where stand his guard. + Courage, my masters! Honour now or never! + But follow me, and Edward shall be ours. + FIRST WATCHMAN. Who goes there? + SECOND WATCHMAN. Stay, or thou diest. + + WARWICK and the rest cry all 'Warwick! Warwick!' and + set upon the guard, who fly, crying 'Arm! Arm!' WARWICK + and the rest following them + + The drum playing and trumpet sounding, re-enter WARWICK + and the rest, bringing the KING out in his gown, + sitting in a chair. GLOUCESTER and HASTINGS fly over the stage + + SOMERSET. What are they that fly there? + WARWICK. Richard and Hastings. Let them go; here is the Duke. + KING EDWARD. The Duke! Why, Warwick, when we parted, + Thou call'dst me King? + WARWICK. Ay, but the case is alter'd. + When you disgrac'd me in my embassade, + Then I degraded you from being King, + And come now to create you Duke of York. + Alas, how should you govern any kingdom + That know not how to use ambassadors, + Nor how to be contented with one wife, + Nor how to use your brothers brotherly, + Nor how to study for the people's welfare, + Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies? + KING EDWARD. Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou here too? + Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down. + Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance, + Of thee thyself and all thy complices, + Edward will always bear himself as King. + Though fortune's malice overthrow my state, + My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. + WARWICK. Then, for his mind, be Edward England's king; + [Takes off his crown] + But Henry now shall wear the English crown + And be true King indeed; thou but the shadow. + My Lord of Somerset, at my request, + See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd + Unto my brother, Archbishop of York. + When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows, + I'll follow you and tell what answer + Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him. + Now for a while farewell, good Duke of York. + KING EDWARD. What fates impose, that men must needs abide; + It boots not to resist both wind and tide. + [They lead him out forcibly] + OXFORD. What now remains, my lords, for us to do + But march to London with our soldiers? + WARWICK. Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do; + To free King Henry from imprisonment, + And see him seated in the regal throne. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +London. The palace + +Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and RIVERS + + RIVERS. Madam, what makes you in this sudden change? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to learn + What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward? + RIVERS. What, loss of some pitch'd battle against Warwick? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. No, but the loss of his own royal person. + RIVERS. Then is my sovereign slain? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner; + Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard + Or by his foe surpris'd at unawares; + And, as I further have to understand, + Is new committed to the Bishop of York, + Fell Warwick's brother, and by that our foe. + RIVERS. These news, I must confess, are full of grief; + Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may: + Warwick may lose that now hath won the day. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Till then, fair hope must hinder life's decay. + And I the rather wean me from despair + For love of Edward's offspring in my womb. + This is it that makes me bridle passion + And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross; + Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear + And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs, + Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown + King Edward's fruit, true heir to th' English crown. + RIVERS. But, madam, where is Warwick then become? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. I am inform'd that he comes towards London + To set the crown once more on Henry's head. + Guess thou the rest: King Edward's friends must down. + But to prevent the tyrant's violence- + For trust not him that hath once broken faith- + I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary + To save at least the heir of Edward's right. + There shall I rest secure from force and fraud. + Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly: + If Warwick take us, we are sure to die. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +A park near Middleham Castle in Yorkshire + +Enter GLOUCESTER, LORD HASTINGS, SIR WILLIAM STANLEY, and others + + GLOUCESTER. Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley, + Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither + Into this chiefest thicket of the park. + Thus stands the case: you know our King, my brother, + Is prisoner to the Bishop here, at whose hands + He hath good usage and great liberty; + And often but attended with weak guard + Comes hunting this way to disport himself. + I have advertis'd him by secret means + That if about this hour he make this way, + Under the colour of his usual game, + He shall here find his friends, with horse and men, + To set him free from his captivity. + + Enter KING EDWARD and a HUNTSMAN with him + + HUNTSMAN. This way, my lord; for this way lies the game. + KING EDWARD. Nay, this way, man. See where the huntsmen stand. + Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and the rest, + Stand you thus close to steal the Bishop's deer? + GLOUCESTER. Brother, the time and case requireth haste; + Your horse stands ready at the park corner. + KING EDWARD. But whither shall we then? + HASTINGS. To Lynn, my lord; and shipt from thence to Flanders. + GLOUCESTER. Well guess'd, believe me; for that was my meaning. + KING EDWARD. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness. + GLOUCESTER. But wherefore stay we? 'Tis no time to talk. + KING EDWARD. Huntsman, what say'st thou? Wilt thou go along? + HUNTSMAN. Better do so than tarry and be hang'd. + GLOUCESTER. Come then, away; let's ha' no more ado. + KING EDWARD. Bishop, farewell. Shield thee from Warwick's frown, + And pray that I may repossess the crown. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +London. The Tower + +Flourish. Enter KING HENRY, CLARENCE, WARWICK, SOMERSET, young HENRY, +EARL OF RICHMOND, OXFORD, MONTAGUE, LIEUTENANT OF THE TOWER, and attendants + + KING HENRY. Master Lieutenant, now that God and friends + Have shaken Edward from the regal seat + And turn'd my captive state to liberty, + My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys, + At our enlargement what are thy due fees? + LIEUTENANT. Subjects may challenge nothing of their sov'reigns; + But if an humble prayer may prevail, + I then crave pardon of your Majesty. + KING HENRY. For what, Lieutenant? For well using me? + Nay, be thou sure I'll well requite thy kindness, + For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure; + Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds + Conceive when, after many moody thoughts, + At last by notes of household harmony + They quite forget their loss of liberty. + But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free, + And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee; + He was the author, thou the instrument. + Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite + By living low where fortune cannot hurt me, + And that the people of this blessed land + May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars, + Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, + I here resign my government to thee, + For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds. + WARWICK. Your Grace hath still been fam'd for virtuous, + And now may seem as wise as virtuous + By spying and avoiding fortune's malice, + For few men rightly temper with the stars; + Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace, + For choosing me when Clarence is in place. + CLARENCE. No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway, + To whom the heav'ns in thy nativity + Adjudg'd an olive branch and laurel crown, + As likely to be blest in peace and war; + And therefore I yield thee my free consent. + WARWICK. And I choose Clarence only for Protector. + KING HENRY. Warwick and Clarence, give me both your hands. + Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts, + That no dissension hinder government. + I make you both Protectors of this land, + While I myself will lead a private life + And in devotion spend my latter days, + To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise. + WARWICK. What answers Clarence to his sovereign's will? + CLARENCE. That he consents, if Warwick yield consent, + For on thy fortune I repose myself. + WARWICK. Why, then, though loath, yet must I be content. + We'll yoke together, like a double shadow + To Henry's body, and supply his place; + I mean, in bearing weight of government, + While he enjoys the honour and his ease. + And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful + Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a traitor, + And all his lands and goods confiscated. + CLARENCE. What else? And that succession be determin'd. + WARWICK. Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part. + KING HENRY. But, with the first of all your chief affairs, + Let me entreat- for I command no more- + That Margaret your Queen and my son Edward + Be sent for to return from France with speed; + For till I see them here, by doubtful fear + My joy of liberty is half eclips'd. + CLARENCE. It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed. + KING HENRY. My Lord of Somerset, what youth is that, + Of whom you seem to have so tender care? + SOMERSET. My liege, it is young Henry, Earl of Richmond. + KING HENRY. Come hither, England's hope. + [Lays his hand on his head] + If secret powers + Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, + This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. + His looks are full of peaceful majesty; + His head by nature fram'd to wear a crown, + His hand to wield a sceptre; and himself + Likely in time to bless a regal throne. + Make much of him, my lords; for this is he + Must help you more than you are hurt by me. + + Enter a POST + + WARWICK. What news, my friend? + POST. That Edward is escaped from your brother + And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. + WARWICK. Unsavoury news! But how made he escape? + POST. He was convey'd by Richard Duke of Gloucester + And the Lord Hastings, who attended him + In secret ambush on the forest side + And from the Bishop's huntsmen rescu'd him; + For hunting was his daily exercise. + WARWICK. My brother was too careless of his charge. + But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide + A salve for any sore that may betide. + Exeunt all but SOMERSET, RICHMOND, and OXFORD + SOMERSET. My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward's; + For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help, + And we shall have more wars befor't be long. + As Henry's late presaging prophecy + Did glad my heart with hope of this young Richmond, + So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts, + What may befall him to his harm and ours. + Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, + Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany, + Till storms be past of civil enmity. + OXFORD. Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown, + 'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down. + SOMERSET. It shall be so; he shall to Brittany. + Come therefore, let's about it speedily. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VII. +Before York + +Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and soldiers + + KING EDWARD. Now, brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest, + Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends, + And says that once more I shall interchange + My waned state for Henry's regal crown. + Well have we pass'd and now repass'd the seas, + And brought desired help from Burgundy; + What then remains, we being thus arriv'd + From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of York, + But that we enter, as into our dukedom? + GLOUCESTER. The gates made fast! Brother, I like not this; + For many men that stumble at the threshold + Are well foretold that danger lurks within. + KING EDWARD. Tush, man, abodements must not now affright us. + By fair or foul means we must enter in, + For hither will our friends repair to us. + HASTINGS. My liege, I'll knock once more to summon them. + + Enter, on the walls, the MAYOR OF YORK and + his BRETHREN + + MAYOR. My lords, we were forewarned of your coming + And shut the gates for safety of ourselves, + For now we owe allegiance unto Henry. + KING EDWARD. But, Master Mayor, if Henry be your King, + Yet Edward at the least is Duke of York. + MAYOR. True, my good lord; I know you for no less. + KING EDWARD. Why, and I challenge nothing but my dukedom, + As being well content with that alone. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside] But when the fox hath once got in his nose, + He'll soon find means to make the body follow. + HASTINGS. Why, Master Mayor, why stand you in a doubt? + Open the gates; we are King Henry's friends. + MAYOR. Ay, say you so? The gates shall then be open'd. + [He descends] + GLOUCESTER. A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded! + HASTINGS. The good old man would fain that all were well, + So 'twere not long of him; but being ent'red, + I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade + Both him and all his brothers unto reason. + + Enter, below, the MAYOR and two ALDERMEN + + KING EDWARD. So, Master Mayor. These gates must not be shut + But in the night or in the time of war. + What! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys; + [Takes his keys] + For Edward will defend the town and thee, + And all those friends that deign to follow me. + + March. Enter MONTGOMERY with drum and soldiers + + GLOUCESTER. Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery, + Our trusty friend, unless I be deceiv'd. + KING EDWARD. Welcome, Sir john! But why come you in arms? + MONTGOMERY. To help King Edward in his time of storm, + As every loyal subject ought to do. + KING EDWARD. Thanks, good Montgomery; but we now forget + Our title to the crown, and only claim + Our dukedom till God please to send the rest. + MONTGOMERY. Then fare you well, for I will hence again. + I came to serve a king and not a duke. + Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. + [The drum begins to march] + KING EDWARD. Nay, stay, Sir John, a while, and we'll debate + By what safe means the crown may be recover'd. + MONTGOMERY. What talk you of debating? In few words: + If you'll not here proclaim yourself our King, + I'll leave you to your fortune and be gone + To keep them back that come to succour you. + Why shall we fight, if you pretend no title? + GLOUCESTER. Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points? + KING EDWARD. When we grow stronger, then we'll make our claim; + Till then 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning. + HASTINGS. Away with scrupulous wit! Now arms must rule. + GLOUCESTER. And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns. + Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand; + The bruit thereof will bring you many friends. + KING EDWARD. Then be it as you will; for 'tis my right, + And Henry but usurps the diadem. + MONTGOMERY. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself; + And now will I be Edward's champion. + HASTINGS. Sound trumpet; Edward shall be here proclaim'd. + Come, fellow soldier, make thou proclamation. + [Gives him a paper. Flourish] + SOLDIER. [Reads] 'Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God, + King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c.' + MONTGOMERY. And whoso'er gainsays King Edward's right, + By this I challenge him to single fight. + [Throws down gauntlet] + ALL. Long live Edward the Fourth! + KING EDWARD. Thanks, brave Montgomery, and thanks unto you all; + If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness. + Now for this night let's harbour here in York; + And when the morning sun shall raise his car + Above the border of this horizon, + We'll forward towards Warwick and his mates; + For well I wot that Henry is no soldier. + Ah, froward Clarence, how evil it beseems the + To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother! + Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick. + Come on, brave soldiers; doubt not of the day, + And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VIII. +London. The palace + +Flourish. Enter KING HENRY, WARWICK, MONTAGUE, CLARENCE, OXFORD, and EXETER + + WARWICK. What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia, + With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders, + Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas + And with his troops doth march amain to London; + And many giddy people flock to him. + KING HENRY. Let's levy men and beat him back again. + CLARENCE. A little fire is quickly trodden out, + Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench. + WARWICK. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, + Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war; + Those will I muster up, and thou, son Clarence, + Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, + The knights and gentlemen to come with thee. + Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, + Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find + Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'st. + And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd, + In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends. + My sovereign, with the loving citizens, + Like to his island girt in with the ocean + Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs, + Shall rest in London till we come to him. + Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply. + Farewell, my sovereign. + KING HENRY. Farewell, my Hector and my Troy's true hope. + CLARENCE. In sign of truth, I kiss your Highness' hand. + KING HENRY. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate! + MONTAGUE. Comfort, my lord; and so I take my leave. + OXFORD. [Kissing the KING'S band] And thus I seal my truth and bid + adieu. + KING HENRY. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague, + And all at once, once more a happy farewell. + WARWICK. Farewell, sweet lords; let's meet at Coventry. + Exeunt all but the KING and EXETER + KING HENRY. Here at the palace will I rest a while. + Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship? + Methinks the power that Edward hath in field + Should not be able to encounter mine. + EXETER. The doubt is that he will seduce the rest. + KING HENRY. That's not my fear; my meed hath got me fame: + I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, + Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; + My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, + My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, + My mercy dried their water-flowing tears; + I have not been desirous of their wealth, + Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies, + Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd. + Then why should they love Edward more than me? + No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace; + And, when the lion fawns upon the lamb, + The lamb will never cease to follow him. + [Shout within 'A Lancaster! A Lancaster!'] + EXETER. Hark, hark, my lord! What shouts are these? + + Enter KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, and soldiers + + KING EDWARD. Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry, bear him hence; + And once again proclaim us King of England. + You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow. + Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry, + And swell so much the higher by their ebb. + Hence with him to the Tower: let him not speak. + Exeunt some with KING HENRY + And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course, + Where peremptory Warwick now remains. + The sun shines hot; and, if we use delay, + Cold biting winter mars our hop'd-for hay. + GLOUCESTER. Away betimes, before his forces join, + And take the great-grown traitor unawares. + Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Coventry + +Enter WARWICK, the MAYOR OF COVENTRY, two MESSENGERS, +and others upon the walls + + WARWICK. Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford? + How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? + FIRST MESSENGER. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward. + WARWICK. How far off is our brother Montague? + Where is the post that came from Montague? + SECOND MESSENGER. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop. + + Enter SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE + + WARWICK. Say, Somerville, what says my loving son? + And by thy guess how nigh is Clarence now? + SOMERVILLE. At Southam I did leave him with his forces, + And do expect him here some two hours hence. + [Drum heard] + WARWICK. Then Clarence is at hand; I hear his drum. + SOMERVILLE. It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies. + The drum your Honour hears marcheth from Warwick. + WARWICK. Who should that be? Belike unlook'd for friends. + SOMERVILLE. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know. + + March. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, + and soldiers + + KING EDWARD. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle. + GLOUCESTER. See how the surly Warwick mans the wall. + WARWICK. O unbid spite! Is sportful Edward come? + Where slept our scouts or how are they seduc'd + That we could hear no news of his repair? + KING EDWARD. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates, + Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee, + Call Edward King, and at his hands beg mercy? + And he shall pardon thee these outrages. + WARWICK. Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, + Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down, + Call Warwick patron, and be penitent? + And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York. + GLOUCESTER. I thought, at least, he would have said the King; + Or did he make the jest against his will? + WARWICK. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift? + GLOUCESTER. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give. + I'll do thee service for so good a gift. + WARWICK. 'Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother. + KING EDWARD. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift. + WARWICK. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight; + And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again; + And Henry is my King, Warwick his subject. + KING EDWARD. But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner. + And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this: + What is the body when the head is off? + GLOUCESTER. Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, + But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten, + The king was slily finger'd from the deck! + You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace, + And ten to one you'll meet him in the Tower. + KING EDWARD. 'Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still. + GLOUCESTER. Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down, kneel down. + Nay, when? Strike now, or else the iron cools. + WARWICK. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, + And with the other fling it at thy face, + Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee. + KING EDWARD. Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend, + This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair, + Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off, + Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood: + 'Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.' + + Enter OXFORD, with drum and colours + + WARWICK. O cheerful colours! See where Oxford comes. + OXFORD. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster! + [He and his forces enter the city] + GLOUCESTER. The gates are open, let us enter too. + KING EDWARD. So other foes may set upon our backs. + Stand we in good array, for they no doubt + Will issue out again and bid us battle; + If not, the city being but of small defence, + We'll quietly rouse the traitors in the same. + WARWICK. O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help. + + Enter MONTAGUE, with drum and colours + + MONTAGUE. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster! + [He and his forces enter the city] + GLOUCESTER. Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason + Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear. + KING EDWARD. The harder match'd, the greater victory. + My mind presageth happy gain and conquest. + + Enter SOMERSET, with drum and colours + + SOMERSET. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster! + [He and his forces enter the city] + GLOUCESTER. Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset, + Have sold their lives unto the house of York; + And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold. + + Enter CLARENCE, with drum and colours + + WARWICK. And lo where George of Clarence sweeps along, + Of force enough to bid his brother battle; + With whom an upright zeal to right prevails + More than the nature of a brother's love. + CLARENCE. Clarence, Clarence, for Lancaster! + KING EDWARD. Et tu Brute- wilt thou stab Caesar too? + A parley, sirrah, to George of Clarence. + [Sound a parley. RICHARD and CLARENCE whisper] + WARWICK. Come, Clarence, come. Thou wilt if Warwick call. + CLARENCE. [Taking the red rose from his hat and throwing + it at WARWICK] + Father of Warwick, know you what this means? + Look here, I throw my infamy at thee. + I will not ruinate my father's house, + Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, + And set up Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwick, + That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural, + To bend the fatal instruments of war + Against his brother and his lawful King? + Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath. + To keep that oath were more impiety + Than Jephtha when he sacrific'd his daughter. + I am so sorry for my trespass made + That, to deserve well at my brother's hands, + I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe; + With resolution whereso'er I meet thee- + As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad- + To plague thee for thy foul misleading me. + And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee, + And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. + Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends; + And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, + For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. + KING EDWARD. Now welcome more, and ten times more belov'd, + Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate. + GLOUCESTER. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother-like. + WARWICK. O passing traitor, perjur'd and unjust! + KING EDWARD. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave die town and fight? + Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears? + WARWICK. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence! + I will away towards Barnet presently + And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st. + KING EDWARD. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares and leads the way. + Lords, to the field; Saint George and victory! + Exeunt YORKISTS + [March. WARWICK and his company follow] + + + + +SCENE II. +A field of battle near Barnet + +Alarum and excursions. Enter KING EDWARD, bringing forth WARWICK, wounded + + KING EDWARD. So, lie thou there. Die thou, and die our fear; + For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all. + Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee, + That Warwick's bones may keep thine company. Exit + WARWICK. Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe, + And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? + Why ask I that? My mangled body shows, + My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, + That I must yield my body to the earth + And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. + Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, + Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, + Under whose shade the ramping lion slept, + Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree + And kept low shrubs from winter's pow'rful wind. + These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, + Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun + To search the secret treasons of the world; + The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood, + Were lik'ned oft to kingly sepulchres; + For who liv'd King, but I could dig his grave? + And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow? + Lo now my glory smear'd in dust and blood! + My parks, my walks, my manors, that I had, + Even now forsake me; and of all my lands + Is nothing left me but my body's length. + what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? + And live we how we can, yet die we must. + + Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET + + SOMERSET. Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are, + We might recover all our loss again. + The Queen from France hath brought a puissant power; + Even now we heard the news. Ah, couldst thou fly! + WARWICK. Why then, I would not fly. Ah, Montague, + If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, + And with thy lips keep in my soul a while! + Thou lov'st me not; for, brother, if thou didst, + Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood + That glues my lips and will not let me speak. + Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. + SOMERSET. Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breath'd his last; + And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick, + And said 'Commend me to my valiant brother.' + And more he would have said; and more he spoke, + Which sounded like a clamour in a vault, + That mought not be distinguish'd; but at last, + I well might hear, delivered with a groan, + 'O farewell, Warwick!' + WARWICK. Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves: + For Warwick bids you all farewell, to meet in heaven. + [Dies] + OXFORD. Away, away, to meet the Queen's great power! + [Here they bear away his body] + + + + +SCENE III. +Another part of the field + +Flourish. Enter KING in triumph; with GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the rest + + KING EDWARD. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, + And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory. + But in the midst of this bright-shining day + I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud + That will encounter with our glorious sun + Ere he attain his easeful western bed- + I mean, my lords, those powers that the Queen + Hath rais'd in Gallia have arriv'd our coast + And, as we hear, march on to fight with us. + CLARENCE. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud + And blow it to the source from whence it came; + Thy very beams will dry those vapours up, + For every cloud engenders not a storm. + GLOUCESTER. The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong, + And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her. + If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd + Her faction will be full as strong as ours. + KING EDWARD. are advertis'd by our loving friends + That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury; + We, having now the best at Barnet field, + Will thither straight, for willingness rids way; + And as we march our strength will be augmented + In every county as we go along. + Strike up the drum; cry 'Courage!' and away. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Plains wear Tewksbury + +Flourish. March. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, SOMERSET, OXFORD, +and SOLDIERS + + QUEEN MARGARET. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their + loss, + But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. + What though the mast be now blown overboard, + The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost, + And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood; + Yet lives our pilot still. Is't meet that he + Should leave the helm and, like a fearful lad, + With tearful eyes add water to the sea + And give more strength to that which hath too much; + Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, + Which industry and courage might have sav'd? + Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this! + Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that? + And Montague our top-mast; what of him? + Our slaught'red friends the tackles; what of these? + Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? + And Somerset another goodly mast? + The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings? + And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I + For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge? + We will not from the helm to sit and weep, + But keep our course, though the rough wind say no, + From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck, + As good to chide the waves as speak them fair. + And what is Edward but a ruthless sea? + What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? + And Richard but a ragged fatal rock? + All these the enemies to our poor bark. + Say you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while! + Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink. + Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off, + Or else you famish- that's a threefold death. + This speak I, lords, to let you understand, + If case some one of you would fly from us, + That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers + More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and rocks. + Why, courage then! What cannot be avoided + 'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear. + PRINCE OF WALES. Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit + Should, if a coward hear her speak these words, + Infuse his breast with magnanimity + And make him naked foil a man-at-arms. + I speak not this as doubting any here; + For did I but suspect a fearful man, + He should have leave to go away betimes, + Lest in our need he might infect another + And make him of the like spirit to himself. + If any such be here- as God forbid!- + Let him depart before we need his help. + OXFORD. Women and children of so high a courage, + And warriors faint! Why, 'twere perpetual shame. + O brave young Prince! thy famous grandfather + Doth live again in thee. Long mayst thou Eve + To bear his image and renew his glories! + SOMERSET. And he that will not fight for such a hope, + Go home to bed and, like the owl by day, + If he arise, be mock'd and wond'red at. + QUEEN MARGARET. Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks. + PRINCE OF WALES. And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand + Ready to fight; therefore be resolute. + OXFORD. I thought no less. It is his policy + To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided. + SOMERSET. But he's deceiv'd; we are in readiness. + QUEEN MARGARET. This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness. + OXFORD. Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge. + + Flourish and march. Enter, at a distance, KING EDWARD, + GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and soldiers + + KING EDWARD. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood + Which, by the heavens' assistance and your strength, + Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. + I need not add more fuel to your fire, + For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out. + Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords. + QUEEN MARGARET. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say + My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, + Ye see, I drink the water of my eye. + Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign, + Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd, + His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, + His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent; + And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. + You fight in justice. Then, in God's name, lords, + Be valiant, and give signal to the fight. + Alarum, retreat, excursions. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Another part of the field + +Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and forces, +With QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET, prisoners + + KING EDWARD. Now here a period of tumultuous broils. + Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight; + For Somerset, off with his guilty head. + Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak. + OXFORD. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words. + SOMERSET. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune. + Exeunt OXFORD and SOMERSET, guarded + QUEEN MARGARET. So part we sadly in this troublous world, + To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem. + KING EDWARD. Is proclamation made that who finds Edward + Shall have a high reward, and he his life? + GLOUCESTER. It is; and lo where youthful Edward comes. + + Enter soldiers, with PRINCE EDWARD + + KING EDWARD. Bring forth the gallant; let us hear him speak. + What, can so young a man begin to prick? + Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make + For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, + And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to? + PRINCE OF WALES. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York. + Suppose that I am now my father's mouth; + Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou, + Whilst I propose the self-same words to the + Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. + QUEEN MARGARET. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd! + GLOUCESTER. That you might still have worn the petticoat + And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. + PRINCE OF WALES. Let Aesop fable in a winter's night; + His currish riddle sorts not with this place. + GLOUCESTER. By heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that word. + QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men. + GLOUCESTER. For God's sake, take away this captive scold. + PRINCE OF WALES. Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather. + KING EDWARD. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue. + CLARENCE. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. + PRINCE OF WALES. I know my duty; you are all undutiful. + Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George, + And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all + I am your better, traitors as ye are; + And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. + KING EDWARD. Take that, the likeness of this railer here. + [Stabs him] + GLOUCESTER. Sprawl'st thou? Take that, to end thy agony. + [Stabs him] + CLARENCE. And there's for twitting me with perjury. + [Stabs him] + QUEEN MARGARET. O, kill me too! + GLOUCESTER. Marry, and shall. [Offers to kill her] + KING EDWARD. Hold, Richard, hold; for we have done to much. + GLOUCESTER. Why should she live to fill the world with words? + KING EDWARD. What, doth she swoon? Use means for her recovery. + GLOUCESTER. Clarence, excuse me to the King my brother. + I'll hence to London on a serious matter; + Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news. + CLARENCE. What? what? + GLOUCESTER. The Tower! the Tower! Exit + QUEEN MARGARET. O Ned, sweet Ned, speak to thy mother, boy! + Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers! + They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all, + Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, + If this foul deed were by to equal it. + He was a man: this, in respect, a child; + And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. + What's worse than murderer, that I may name it? + No, no, my heart will burst, an if I speak- + And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. + Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals! + How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd! + You have no children, butchers, if you had, + The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse. + But if you ever chance to have a child, + Look in his youth to have him so cut off + As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince! + KING EDWARD. Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce. + QUEEN MARGARET. Nay, never bear me hence; dispatch me here. + Here sheathe thy sword; I'll pardon thee my death. + What, wilt thou not? Then, Clarence, do it thou. + CLARENCE. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. + QUEEN MARGARET. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it. + CLARENCE. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it? + QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself. + 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. + What! wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher, + Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? + Thou art not here. Murder is thy alms-deed; + Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. + KING EDWARD. Away, I say; I charge ye bear her hence. + QUEEN MARGARET. So come to you and yours as to this prince. + Exit, led out forcibly + KING EDWARD. Where's Richard gone? + CLARENCE. To London, all in post; and, as I guess, + To make a bloody supper in the Tower. + KING EDWARD. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. + Now march we hence. Discharge the common sort + With pay and thanks; and let's away to London + And see our gentle queen how well she fares. + By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +London. The Tower + +Enter KING HENRY and GLOUCESTER with the LIEUTENANT, on the walls + + GLOUCESTER. Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard? + KING HENRY. Ay, my good lord- my lord, I should say rather. + 'Tis sin to flatter; 'good' was little better. + 'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike, + And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good lord.' + GLOUCESTER. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves; we must confer. + Exit LIEUTENANT + KING HENRY. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf; + So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, + And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. + What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? + GLOUCESTER. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind: + The thief doth fear each bush an officer. + KING HENRY. The bird that hath been limed in a bush + With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush; + And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, + Have now the fatal object in my eye + Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd. + GLOUCESTER. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete + That taught his son the office of a fowl! + And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd. + KING HENRY. I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus; + Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; + The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy, + Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea + Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. + Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! + My breast can better brook thy dagger's point + Than can my ears that tragic history. + But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my life? + GLOUCESTER. Think'st thou I am an executioner? + KING HENRY. A persecutor I am sure thou art. + If murdering innocents be executing, + Why, then thou are an executioner. + GLOUCESTER. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. + KING HENRY. Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst presume, + Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine. + And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand + Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear, + And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's, + And many an orphan's water-standing eye- + Men for their sons, wives for their husbands, + Orphans for their parents' timeless death- + Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. + The owl shriek'd at thy birth- an evil sign; + The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; + Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down trees; + The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, + And chatt'ring pies in dismal discords sung; + Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, + And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope, + To wit, an indigest deformed lump, + Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. + Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, + To signify thou cam'st to bite the world; + And if the rest be true which I have heard, + Thou cam'st- + GLOUCESTER. I'll hear no more. Die, prophet, in thy speech. + [Stabs him] + For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. + KING HENRY. Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. + O, God forgive my sins and pardon thee! [Dies] + GLOUCESTER. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster + Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted. + See how my sword weeps for the poor King's death. + O, may such purple tears be always shed + From those that wish the downfall of our house! + If any spark of life be yet remaining, + Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither- + [Stabs him again] + I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. + Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of; + For I have often heard my mother say + I came into the world with my legs forward. + Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste + And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? + The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried + 'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!' + And so I was, which plainly signified + That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. + Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, + Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. + I have no brother, I am like no brother; + And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, + Be resident in men like one another, + And not in me! I am myself alone. + Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light, + But I will sort a pitchy day for thee; + For I will buzz abroad such prophecies + That Edward shall be fearful of his life; + And then to purge his fear, I'll be thy death. + King Henry and the Prince his son are gone. + Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest; + Counting myself but bad till I be best. + I'll throw thy body in another room, + And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. + Exit with the body + + + + +SCENE VII. +London. The palace + +Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, QUEEN ELIZABETH, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, +HASTINGS, NURSE, with the Young PRINCE, and attendants + + KING EDWARD. Once more we sit in England's royal throne, + Repurchas'd with the blood of enemies. + What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn, + Have we mow'd down in tops of all their pride! + Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd + For hardy and undoubted champions; + Two Cliffords, as the father and the son; + And two Northumberlands- two braver men + Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound; + With them the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, + That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion + And made the forest tremble when they roar'd. + Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat + And made our footstool of security. + Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy. + Young Ned, for thee thine uncles and myself + Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night, + Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat, + That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace; + And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside] I'll blast his harvest if your head were laid; + For yet I am not look'd on in the world. + This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave; + And heave it shall some weight or break my back. + Work thou the way- and that shall execute. + KING EDWARD. Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen; + And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. + CLARENCE. The duty that I owe unto your Majesty + I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. + KING EDWARD. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks. + GLOUCESTER. And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st, + Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. + [Aside] To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master + And cried 'All hail!' when as he meant all harm. + KING EDWARD. Now am I seated as my soul delights, + Having my country's peace and brothers' loves. + CLARENCE. What will your Grace have done with Margaret? + Reignier, her father, to the King of France + Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem, + And hither have they sent it for her ransom. + KING EDWARD. Away with her, and waft her hence to France. + And now what rests but that we spend the time + With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, + Such as befits the pleasure of the court? + Sound drums and trumpets. Farewell, sour annoy! + For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. Exeunt + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1611 + +KING HENRY THE EIGHTH + +by William Shakespeare + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + KING HENRY THE EIGHTH + CARDINAL WOLSEY CARDINAL CAMPEIUS + CAPUCIUS, Ambassador from the Emperor Charles V + CRANMER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY + DUKE OF NORFOLK DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM + DUKE OF SUFFOLK EARL OF SURREY + LORD CHAMBERLAIN LORD CHANCELLOR + GARDINER, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER + BISHOP OF LINCOLN LORD ABERGAVENNY + LORD SANDYS SIR HENRY GUILDFORD + SIR THOMAS LOVELL SIR ANTHONY DENNY + SIR NICHOLAS VAUX SECRETARIES to Wolsey + CROMWELL, servant to Wolsey + GRIFFITH, gentleman-usher to Queen Katharine + THREE GENTLEMEN + DOCTOR BUTTS, physician to the King + GARTER KING-AT-ARMS + SURVEYOR to the Duke of Buckingham + BRANDON, and a SERGEANT-AT-ARMS + DOORKEEPER Of the Council chamber + PORTER, and his MAN PAGE to Gardiner + A CRIER + + QUEEN KATHARINE, wife to King Henry, afterwards divorced + ANNE BULLEN, her Maid of Honour, afterwards Queen + AN OLD LADY, friend to Anne Bullen + PATIENCE, woman to Queen Katharine + + Lord Mayor, Aldermen, Lords and Ladies in the Dumb + Shows; Women attending upon the Queen; Scribes, + Officers, Guards, and other Attendants; Spirits + + SCENE: + + London; Westminster; Kimbolton + + + + KING HENRY THE EIGHTH + + THE PROLOGUE. + + I come no more to make you laugh; things now + That bear a weighty and a serious brow, + Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, + Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, + We now present. Those that can pity here + May, if they think it well, let fall a tear: + The subject will deserve it. Such as give + Their money out of hope they may believe + May here find truth too. Those that come to see + Only a show or two, and so agree + The play may pass, if they be still and willing, + I'll undertake may see away their shilling + Richly in two short hours. Only they + That come to hear a merry bawdy play, + A noise of targets, or to see a fellow + In a long motley coat guarded with yellow, + Will be deceiv'd; for, gentle hearers, know, + To rank our chosen truth with such a show + As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting + Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring + To make that only true we now intend, + Will leave us never an understanding friend. + Therefore, for goodness sake, and as you are known + The first and happiest hearers of the town, + Be sad, as we would make ye. Think ye see + The very persons of our noble story + As they were living; think you see them great, + And follow'd with the general throng and sweat + Of thousand friends; then, in a moment, see + How soon this mightiness meets misery. + And if you can be merry then, I'll say + A man may weep upon his wedding-day. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT I. SCENE 1. + +London. The palace + +Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK at one door; at the other, +the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM and the LORD ABERGAVENNY + + BUCKINGHAM. Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done + Since last we saw in France? + NORFOLK. I thank your Grace, + Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer + Of what I saw there. + BUCKINGHAM. An untimely ague + Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber when + Those suns of glory, those two lights of men, + Met in the vale of Andren. + NORFOLK. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde- + I was then present, saw them salute on horseback; + Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung + In their embracement, as they grew together; + Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have weigh'd + Such a compounded one? + BUCKINGHAM. All the whole time + I was my chamber's prisoner. + NORFOLK. Then you lost + The view of earthly glory; men might say, + Till this time pomp was single, but now married + To one above itself. Each following day + Became the next day's master, till the last + Made former wonders its. To-day the French, + All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, + Shone down the English; and to-morrow they + Made Britain India: every man that stood + Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were + As cherubins, an gilt; the madams too, + Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear + The pride upon them, that their very labour + Was to them as a painting. Now this masque + Was cried incomparable; and th' ensuing night + Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings, + Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, + As presence did present them: him in eye + still him in praise; and being present both, + 'Twas said they saw but one, and no discerner + Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns- + For so they phrase 'em-by their heralds challeng'd + The noble spirits to arms, they did perform + Beyond thought's compass, that former fabulous story, + Being now seen possible enough, got credit, + That Bevis was believ'd. + BUCKINGHAM. O, you go far! + NORFOLK. As I belong to worship, and affect + In honour honesty, the tract of ev'rything + Would by a good discourser lose some life + Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal: + To the disposing of it nought rebell'd; + Order gave each thing view. The office did + Distinctly his full function. + BUCKINGHAM. Who did guide- + I mean, who set the body and the limbs + Of this great sport together, as you guess? + NORFOLK. One, certes, that promises no element + In such a business. + BUCKINGHAM. I pray you, who, my lord? + NORFOLK. All this was ord'red by the good discretion + Of the right reverend Cardinal of York. + BUCKINGHAM. The devil speed him! No man's pie is freed + From his ambitious finger. What had he + To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder + That such a keech can with his very bulk + Take up the rays o' th' beneficial sun, + And keep it from the earth. + NORFOLK. Surely, sir, + There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends; + For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace + Chalks successors their way, nor call'd upon + For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied + To eminent assistants, but spider-like, + Out of his self-drawing web, 'a gives us note + The force of his own merit makes his way- + A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys + A place next to the King. + ABERGAVENNY. I cannot tell + What heaven hath given him-let some graver eye + Pierce into that; but I can see his pride + Peep through each part of him. Whence has he that? + If not from hell, the devil is a niggard + Or has given all before, and he begins + A new hell in himself. + BUCKINGHAM. Why the devil, + Upon this French going out, took he upon him- + Without the privity o' th' King-t' appoint + Who should attend on him? He makes up the file + Of all the gentry; for the most part such + To whom as great a charge as little honour + He meant to lay upon; and his own letter, + The honourable board of council out, + Must fetch him in he papers. + ABERGAVENNY. I do know + Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have + By this so sicken'd their estates that never + They shall abound as formerly. + BUCKINGHAM. O, many + Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em + For this great journey. What did this vanity + But minister communication of + A most poor issue? + NORFOLK. Grievingly I think + The peace between the French and us not values + The cost that did conclude it. + BUCKINGHAM. Every man, + After the hideous storm that follow'd, was + A thing inspir'd, and, not consulting, broke + Into a general prophecy-that this tempest, + Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded + The sudden breach on't. + NORFOLK. Which is budded out; + For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd + Our merchants' goods at Bordeaux. + ABERGAVENNY. Is it therefore + Th' ambassador is silenc'd? + NORFOLK. Marry, is't. + ABERGAVENNY. A proper tide of a peace, and purchas'd + At a superfluous rate! + BUCKINGHAM. Why, all this business + Our reverend Cardinal carried. + NORFOLK. Like it your Grace, + The state takes notice of the private difference + Betwixt you and the Cardinal. I advise you- + And take it from a heart that wishes towards you + Honour and plenteous safety-that you read + The Cardinal's malice and his potency + Together; to consider further, that + What his high hatred would effect wants not + A minister in his power. You know his nature, + That he's revengeful; and I know his sword + Hath a sharp edge-it's long and't may be said + It reaches far, and where 'twill not extend, + Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel + You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock + That I advise your shunning. + + Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, the purse borne before + him, certain of the guard, and two SECRETARIES + with papers. The CARDINAL in his passage fixeth his + eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on him, + both full of disdain + + WOLSEY. The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor? Ha! + Where's his examination? + SECRETARY. Here, so please you. + WOLSEY. Is he in person ready? + SECRETARY. Ay, please your Grace. + WOLSEY. Well, we shall then know more, and Buckingham + shall lessen this big look. + Exeunt WOLSEY and his train + BUCKINGHAM. This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I + Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore best + Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book + Outworths a noble's blood. + NORFOLK. What, are you chaf'd? + Ask God for temp'rance; that's th' appliance only + Which your disease requires. + BUCKINGHAM. I read in's looks + Matter against me, and his eye revil'd + Me as his abject object. At this instant + He bores me with some trick. He's gone to th' King; + I'll follow, and outstare him. + NORFOLK. Stay, my lord, + And let your reason with your choler question + What 'tis you go about. To climb steep hills + Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like + A full hot horse, who being allow'd his way, + Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England + Can advise me like you; be to yourself + As you would to your friend. + BUCKINGHAM. I'll to the King, + And from a mouth of honour quite cry down + This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim + There's difference in no persons. + NORFOLK. Be advis'd: + Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot + That it do singe yourself. We may outrun + By violent swiftness that which we run at, + And lose by over-running. Know you not + The fire that mounts the liquor till't run o'er + In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advis'd. + I say again there is no English soul + More stronger to direct you than yourself, + If with the sap of reason you would quench + Or but allay the fire of passion. + BUCKINGHAM. Sir, + I am thankful to you, and I'll go along + By your prescription; but this top-proud fellow- + Whom from the flow of gan I name not, but + From sincere motions, by intelligence, + And proofs as clear as founts in July when + We see each grain of gravel-I do know + To be corrupt and treasonous. + NORFOLK. Say not treasonous. + BUCKINGHAM. To th' King I'll say't, and make my vouch as strong + As shore of rock. Attend: this holy fox, + Or wolf, or both-for he is equal rav'nous + As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief + As able to perform't, his mind and place + Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally- + Only to show his pomp as well in France + As here at home, suggests the King our master + To this last costly treaty, th' interview + That swallowed so much treasure and like a glass + Did break i' th' wrenching. + NORFOLK. Faith, and so it did. + BUCKINGHAM. Pray, give me favour, sir; this cunning cardinal + The articles o' th' combination drew + As himself pleas'd; and they were ratified + As he cried 'Thus let be' to as much end + As give a crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinal + Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey, + Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows, + Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy + To th' old dam treason: Charles the Emperor, + Under pretence to see the Queen his aunt- + For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came + To whisper Wolsey-here makes visitation- + His fears were that the interview betwixt + England and France might through their amity + Breed him some prejudice; for from this league + Peep'd harms that menac'd him-privily + Deals with our Cardinal; and, as I trow- + Which I do well, for I am sure the Emperor + Paid ere he promis'd; whereby his suit was granted + Ere it was ask'd-but when the way was made, + And pav'd with gold, the Emperor thus desir'd, + That he would please to alter the King's course, + And break the foresaid peace. Let the King know, + As soon he shall by me, that thus the Cardinal + Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, + And for his own advantage. + NORFOLK. I am sorry + To hear this of him, and could wish he were + Something mistaken in't. + BUCKINGHAM. No, not a syllable: + I do pronounce him in that very shape + He shall appear in proof. + + Enter BRANDON, a SERGEANT-AT-ARMS before him, + and two or three of the guard + + BRANDON. Your office, sergeant: execute it. + SERGEANT. Sir, + My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl + Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I + Arrest thee of high treason, in the name + Of our most sovereign King. + BUCKINGHAM. Lo you, my lord, + The net has fall'n upon me! I shall perish + Under device and practice. + BRANDON. I am sorry + To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on + The business present; 'tis his Highness' pleasure + You shall to th' Tower. + BUCKINGHAM. It will help nothing + To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me + Which makes my whit'st part black. The will of heav'n + Be done in this and all things! I obey. + O my Lord Aberga'ny, fare you well! + BRANDON. Nay, he must bear you company. + [To ABERGAVENNY] The King + Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, till you know + How he determines further. + ABERGAVENNY. As the Duke said, + The will of heaven be done, and the King's pleasure + By me obey'd. + BRANDON. Here is warrant from + The King t' attach Lord Montacute and the bodies + Of the Duke's confessor, John de la Car, + One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor- + BUCKINGHAM. So, so! + These are the limbs o' th' plot; no more, I hope. + BRANDON. A monk o' th' Chartreux. + BUCKINGHAM. O, Nicholas Hopkins? + BRANDON. He. + BUCKINGHAM. My surveyor is false. The o'er-great Cardinal + Hath show'd him gold; my life is spann'd already. + I am the shadow of poor Buckingham, + Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on + By dark'ning my clear sun. My lord, farewell. + Exeunt + + + + +ACT I. SCENE 2. + +London. The Council Chamber + +Cornets. Enter KING HENRY, leaning on the CARDINAL'S shoulder, the NOBLES, +and SIR THOMAS LOVELL, with others. The CARDINAL places himself +under the KING'S feet on his right side + + KING. My life itself, and the best heart of it, + Thanks you for this great care; I stood i' th' level + Of a full-charg'd confederacy, and give thanks + To you that chok'd it. Let be call'd before us + That gentleman of Buckingham's. In person + I'll hear his confessions justify; + And point by point the treasons of his master + He shall again relate. + + A noise within, crying 'Room for the Queen!' + Enter the QUEEN, usher'd by the DUKES OF NORFOLK + and SUFFOLK; she kneels. The KING riseth + from his state, takes her up, kisses and placeth her + by him + + QUEEN KATHARINE. Nay, we must longer kneel: I am suitor. + KING. Arise, and take place by us. Half your suit + Never name to us: you have half our power. + The other moiety ere you ask is given; + Repeat your will, and take it. + QUEEN KATHARINE. Thank your Majesty. + That you would love yourself, and in that love + Not unconsidered leave your honour nor + The dignity of your office, is the point + Of my petition. + KING. Lady mine, proceed. + QUEEN KATHARINE. I am solicited, not by a few, + And those of true condition, that your subjects + Are in great grievance: there have been commissions + Sent down among 'em which hath flaw'd the heart + Of all their loyalties; wherein, although, + My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches + Most bitterly on you as putter-on + Of these exactions, yet the King our master- + Whose honour Heaven shield from soil!-even he escapes not + Language unmannerly; yea, such which breaks + The sides of loyalty, and almost appears + In loud rebellion. + NORFOLK. Not almost appears- + It doth appear; for, upon these taxations, + The clothiers all, not able to maintain + The many to them 'longing, have put of + The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who + Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger + And lack of other means, in desperate manner + Daring th' event to th' teeth, are all in uproar, + And danger serves among them. + KING. Taxation! + Wherein? and what taxation? My Lord Cardinal, + You that are blam'd for it alike with us, + Know you of this taxation? + WOLSEY. Please you, sir, + I know but of a single part in aught + Pertains to th' state, and front but in that file + Where others tell steps with me. + QUEEN KATHARINE. No, my lord! + You know no more than others! But you frame + Things that are known alike, which are not wholesome + To those which would not know them, and yet must + Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions, + Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are + Most pestilent to th' hearing; and to bear 'em + The back is sacrifice to th' load. They say + They are devis'd by you, or else you suffer + Too hard an exclamation. + KING. Still exaction! + The nature of it? In what kind, let's know, + Is this exaction? + QUEEN KATHARINE. I am much too venturous + In tempting of your patience, but am bold'ned + Under your promis'd pardon. The subjects' grief + Comes through commissions, which compels from each + The sixth part of his substance, to be levied + Without delay; and the pretence for this + Is nam'd your wars in France. This makes bold mouths; + Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze + Allegiance in them; their curses now + Live where their prayers did; and it's come to pass + This tractable obedience is a slave + To each incensed will. I would your Highness + Would give it quick consideration, for + There is no primer business. + KING. By my life, + This is against our pleasure. + WOLSEY. And for me, + I have no further gone in this than by + A single voice; and that not pass'd me but + By learned approbation of the judges. If I am + Traduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither know + My faculties nor person, yet will be + The chronicles of my doing, let me say + 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake + That virtue must go through. We must not stint + Our necessary actions in the fear + To cope malicious censurers, which ever + As rav'nous fishes do a vessel follow + That is new-trimm'd, but benefit no further + Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, + By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is + Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft + Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up + For our best act. If we shall stand still, + In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, + We should take root here where we sit, or sit + State-statues only. + KING. Things done well + And with a care exempt themselves from fear: + Things done without example, in their issue + Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent + Of this commission? I believe, not any. + We must not rend our subjects from our laws, + And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each? + A trembling contribution! Why, we take + From every tree lop, bark, and part o' th' timber; + And though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd, + The air will drink the sap. To every county + Where this is question'd send our letters with + Free pardon to each man that has denied + The force of this commission. Pray, look tot; + I put it to your care. + WOLSEY. [Aside to the SECRETARY] A word with you. + Let there be letters writ to every shire + Of the King's grace and pardon. The grieved commons + Hardly conceive of me-let it be nois'd + That through our intercession this revokement + And pardon comes. I shall anon advise you + Further in the proceeding. Exit SECRETARY + + Enter SURVEYOR + + QUEEN KATHARINE. I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham + Is run in your displeasure. + KING. It grieves many. + The gentleman is learn'd and a most rare speaker; + To nature none more bound; his training such + That he may furnish and instruct great teachers + And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see, + When these so noble benefits shall prove + Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt, + They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly + Than ever they were fair. This man so complete, + Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we, + Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find + His hour of speech a minute-he, my lady, + Hath into monstrous habits put the graces + That once were his, and is become as black + As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear- + This was his gentleman in trust-of him + Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount + The fore-recited practices, whereof + We cannot feel too little, hear too much. + WOLSEY. Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you, + Most like a careful subject, have collected + Out of the Duke of Buckingham. + KING. Speak freely. + SURVEYOR. First, it was usual with him-every day + It would infect his speech-that if the King + Should without issue die, he'll carry it so + To make the sceptre his. These very words + I've heard him utter to his son-in-law, + Lord Aberga'ny, to whom by oath he menac'd + Revenge upon the Cardinal. + WOLSEY. Please your Highness, note + This dangerous conception in this point: + Not friended by his wish, to your high person + His will is most malignant, and it stretches + Beyond you to your friends. + QUEEN KATHARINE. My learn'd Lord Cardinal, + Deliver all with charity. + KING. Speak on. + How grounded he his title to the crown + Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard him + At any time speak aught? + SURVEYOR. He was brought to this + By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton. + KING. What was that Henton? + SURVEYOR. Sir, a Chartreux friar, + His confessor, who fed him every minute + With words of sovereignty. + KING. How know'st thou this? + SURVEYOR. Not long before your Highness sped to France, + The Duke being at the Rose, within the parish + Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand + What was the speech among the Londoners + Concerning the French journey. I replied + Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious, + To the King's danger. Presently the Duke + Said 'twas the fear indeed and that he doubted + 'Twould prove the verity of certain words + Spoke by a holy monk 'that oft' says he + 'Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit + John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour + To hear from him a matter of some moment; + Whom after under the confession's seal + He solemnly had sworn that what he spoke + My chaplain to no creature living but + To me should utter, with demure confidence + This pausingly ensu'd: "Neither the King nor's heirs, + Tell you the Duke, shall prosper; bid him strive + To gain the love o' th' commonalty; the Duke + Shall govern England."' + QUEEN KATHARINE. If I know you well, + You were the Duke's surveyor, and lost your office + On the complaint o' th' tenants. Take good heed + You charge not in your spleen a noble person + And spoil your nobler soul. I say, take heed; + Yes, heartily beseech you. + KING. Let him on. + Go forward. + SURVEYOR. On my soul, I'll speak but truth. + I told my lord the Duke, by th' devil's illusions + The monk might be deceiv'd, and that 'twas dangerous + for him + To ruminate on this so far, until + It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd, + It was much like to do. He answer'd 'Tush, + It can do me no damage'; adding further + That, had the King in his last sickness fail'd, + The Cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads + Should have gone off. + KING. Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha! + There's mischief in this man. Canst thou say further? + SURVEYOR. I can, my liege. + KING. Proceed. + SURVEYOR. Being at Greenwich, + After your Highness had reprov'd the Duke + About Sir William Bulmer- + KING. I remember + Of such a time: being my sworn servant, + The Duke retain'd him his. But on: what hence? + SURVEYOR. 'If' quoth he 'I for this had been committed- + As to the Tower I thought-I would have play'd + The part my father meant to act upon + Th' usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury, + Made suit to come in's presence, which if granted, + As he made semblance of his duty, would + Have put his knife into him.' + KING. A giant traitor! + WOLSEY. Now, madam, may his Highness live in freedom, + And this man out of prison? + QUEEN KATHARINE. God mend all! + KING. There's something more would out of thee: what say'st? + SURVEYOR. After 'the Duke his father' with the 'knife,' + He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger, + Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes, + He did discharge a horrible oath, whose tenour + Was, were he evil us'd, he would outgo + His father by as much as a performance + Does an irresolute purpose. + KING. There's his period, + To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd; + Call him to present trial. If he may + Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none, + Let him not seek't of us. By day and night! + He's traitor to th' height. Exeunt + + + + +ACT I. SCENE 3. + +London. The palace + +Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN and LORD SANDYS + + CHAMBERLAIN. Is't possible the spells of France should juggle + Men into such strange mysteries? + SANDYS. New customs, + Though they be never so ridiculous, + Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. + CHAMBERLAIN. As far as I see, all the good our English + Have got by the late voyage is but merely + A fit or two o' th' face; but they are shrewd ones; + For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly + Their very noses had been counsellors + To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so. + SANDYS. They have all new legs, and lame ones. One would take it, + That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin + Or springhalt reign'd among 'em. + CHAMBERLAIN. Death! my lord, + Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to't, + That sure th' have worn out Christendom. + + Enter SIR THOMAS LOVELL + + How now? + What news, Sir Thomas Lovell? + LOVELL. Faith, my lord, + I hear of none but the new proclamation + That's clapp'd upon the court gate. + CHAMBERLAIN. What is't for? + LOVELL. The reformation of our travell'd gallants, + That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. + CHAMBERLAIN. I am glad 'tis there. Now I would pray our monsieurs + To think an English courtier may be wise, + And never see the Louvre. + LOVELL. They must either, + For so run the conditions, leave those remnants + Of fool and feather that they got in France, + With all their honourable points of ignorance + Pertaining thereunto-as fights and fireworks; + Abusing better men than they can be, + Out of a foreign wisdom-renouncing clean + The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, + Short blist'red breeches, and those types of travel + And understand again like honest men, + Or pack to their old playfellows. There, I take it, + They may, cum privilegio, wear away + The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at. + SANDYS. 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases + Are grown so catching. + CHAMBERLAIN. What a loss our ladies + Will have of these trim vanities! + LOVELL. Ay, marry, + There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons + Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies. + A French song and a fiddle has no fellow. + SANDYS. The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going, + For sure there's no converting 'em. Now + An honest country lord, as I am, beaten + A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong + And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r Lady, + Held current music too. + CHAMBERLAIN. Well said, Lord Sandys; + Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. + SANDYS. No, my lord, + Nor shall not while I have a stamp. + CHAMBERLAIN. Sir Thomas, + Whither were you a-going? + LOVELL. To the Cardinal's; + Your lordship is a guest too. + CHAMBERLAIN. O, 'tis true; + This night he makes a supper, and a great one, + To many lords and ladies; there will be + The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you. + LOVELL. That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed, + A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; + His dews fall everywhere. + CHAMBERLAIN. No doubt he's noble; + He had a black mouth that said other of him. + SANDYS. He may, my lord; has wherewithal. In him + Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine: + Men of his way should be most liberal, + They are set here for examples. + CHAMBERLAIN. True, they are so; + But few now give so great ones. My barge stays; + Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas, + We shall be late else; which I would not be, + For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford, + This night to be comptrollers. + SANDYS. I am your lordship's. Exeunt + + + + +ACT I. SCENE 4. + +London. The Presence Chamber in York Place + +Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, +a longer table for the guests. Then enter ANNE BULLEN, +and divers other LADIES and GENTLEMEN, as guests, at one door; +at another door enter SIR HENRY GUILDFORD + + GUILDFORD. Ladies, a general welcome from his Grace + Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates + To fair content and you. None here, he hopes, + In all this noble bevy, has brought with her + One care abroad; he would have all as merry + As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome, + Can make good people. + + Enter LORD CHAMBERLAIN, LORD SANDYS, and SIR + THOMAS LOVELL + + O, my lord, y'are tardy, + The very thought of this fair company + Clapp'd wings to me. + CHAMBERLAIN. You are young, Sir Harry Guildford. + SANDYS. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the Cardinal + But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these + Should find a running banquet ere they rested + I think would better please 'em. By my life, + They are a sweet society of fair ones. + LOVELL. O that your lordship were but now confessor + To one or two of these! + SANDYS. I would I were; + They should find easy penance. + LOVELL. Faith, how easy? + SANDYS. As easy as a down bed would afford it. + CHAMBERLAIN. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry, + Place you that side; I'll take the charge of this. + His Grace is ent'ring. Nay, you must not freeze: + Two women plac'd together makes cold weather. + My Lord Sandys, you are one will keep 'em waking: + Pray sit between these ladies. + SANDYS. By my faith, + And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies. + [Seats himself between ANNE BULLEN and another lady] + If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me; + I had it from my father. + ANNE. Was he mad, sir? + SANDYS. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too. + But he would bite none; just as I do now, + He would kiss you twenty with a breath. [Kisses her] + CHAMBERLAIN. Well said, my lord. + So, now y'are fairly seated. Gentlemen, + The penance lies on you if these fair ladies + Pass away frowning. + SANDYS. For my little cure, + Let me alone. + + Hautboys. Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, attended; and + takes his state + + WOLSEY. Y'are welcome, my fair guests. That noble lady + Or gentleman that is not freely merry + Is not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome- + And to you all, good health! [Drinks] + SANDYS. Your Grace is noble. + Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks + And save me so much talking. + WOLSEY. My Lord Sandys, + I am beholding to you. Cheer your neighbours. + Ladies, you are not merry. Gentlemen, + Whose fault is this? + SANDYS. The red wine first must rise + In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have 'em + Talk us to silence. + ANNE. You are a merry gamester, + My Lord Sandys. + SANDYS. Yes, if I make my play. + Here's to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam, + For 'tis to such a thing- + ANNE. You cannot show me. + SANDYS. I told your Grace they would talk anon. + [Drum and trumpet. Chambers discharg'd] + WOLSEY. What's that? + CHAMBERLAIN. Look out there, some of ye. Exit a SERVANT + WOLSEY. What warlike voice, + And to what end, is this? Nay, ladies, fear not: + By all the laws of war y'are privileg'd. + + Re-enter SERVANT + + CHAMBERLAIN. How now! what is't? + SERVANT. A noble troop of strangers- + For so they seem. Th' have left their barge and landed, + And hither make, as great ambassadors + From foreign princes. + WOLSEY. Good Lord Chamberlain, + Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue; + And pray receive 'em nobly and conduct 'em + Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty + Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him. + Exit CHAMBERLAIN attended. All rise, and tables remov'd + You have now a broken banquet, but we'll mend it. + A good digestion to you all; and once more + I show'r a welcome on ye; welcome all. + + Hautboys. Enter the KING, and others, as maskers, + habited like shepherds, usher'd by the LORD CHAMBERLAIN. + They pass directly before the CARDINAL, + and gracefully salute him + + A noble company! What are their pleasures? + CHAMBERLAIN. Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd + To tell your Grace, that, having heard by fame + Of this so noble and so fair assembly + This night to meet here, they could do no less, + Out of the great respect they bear to beauty, + But leave their flocks and, under your fair conduct, + Crave leave to view these ladies and entreat + An hour of revels with 'em. + WOLSEY. Say, Lord Chamberlain, + They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay 'em + A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures. + [They choose ladies. The KING chooses ANNE BULLEN] + KING. The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty, + Till now I never knew thee! [Music. Dance] + WOLSEY. My lord! + CHAMBERLAIN. Your Grace? + WOLSEY. Pray tell 'em thus much from me: + There should be one amongst 'em, by his person, + More worthy this place than myself; to whom, + If I but knew him, with my love and duty + I would surrender it. + CHAMBERLAIN. I will, my lord. + [He whispers to the maskers] + WOLSEY. What say they? + CHAMBERLAIN. Such a one, they all confess, + There is indeed; which they would have your Grace + Find out, and he will take it. + WOLSEY. Let me see, then. [Comes from his state] + By all your good leaves, gentlemen, here I'll make + My royal choice. + KING. [Unmasking] Ye have found him, Cardinal. + You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord. + You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, Cardinal, + I should judge now unhappily. + WOLSEY. I am glad + Your Grace is grown so pleasant. + KING. My Lord Chamberlain, + Prithee come hither: what fair lady's that? + CHAMBERLAIN. An't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's + daughter- + The Viscount Rochford-one of her Highness' women. + KING. By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweet heart, + I were unmannerly to take you out + And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen! + Let it go round. + WOLSEY. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready + I' th' privy chamber? + LOVELL. Yes, my lord. + WOLSEY. Your Grace, + I fear, with dancing is a little heated. + KING. I fear, too much. + WOLSEY. There's fresher air, my lord, + In the next chamber. + KING. Lead in your ladies, ev'ry one. Sweet partner, + I must not yet forsake you. Let's be merry: + Good my Lord Cardinal, I have half a dozen healths + To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure + To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream + Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it. + Exeunt, with trumpets + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE 1. + +Westminster. A street + +Enter two GENTLEMEN, at several doors + + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Whither away so fast? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. O, God save ye! + Ev'n to the Hall, to hear what shall become + Of the great Duke of Buckingham. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I'll save you + That labour, sir. All's now done but the ceremony + Of bringing back the prisoner. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Were you there? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes, indeed, was I. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Pray, speak what has happen'd. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. You may guess quickly what. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Is he found guilty? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I am sorry for't. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. So are a number more. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. But, pray, how pass'd it? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I'll tell you in a little. The great Duke. + Came to the bar; where to his accusations + He pleaded still not guilty, and alleged + Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. + The King's attorney, on the contrary, + Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions, + Of divers witnesses; which the Duke desir'd + To have brought, viva voce, to his face; + At which appear'd against him his surveyor, + Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor, and John Car, + Confessor to him, with that devil-monk, + Hopkins, that made this mischief. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. That was he + That fed him with his prophecies? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. The same. + All these accus'd him strongly, which he fain + Would have flung from him; but indeed he could not; + And so his peers, upon this evidence, + Have found him guilty of high treason. Much + He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all + Was either pitied in him or forgotten. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. After all this, how did he bear him-self + FIRST GENTLEMAN. When he was brought again to th' bar to hear + His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd + With such an agony he sweat extremely, + And something spoke in choler, ill and hasty; + But he fell to himself again, and sweetly + In all the rest show'd a most noble patience. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I do not think he fears death. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Sure, he does not; + He never was so womanish; the cause + He may a little grieve at. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Certainly + The Cardinal is the end of this. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. 'Tis likely, + By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder, + Then deputy of Ireland, who remov'd, + Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, + Lest he should help his father. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. That trick of state + Was a deep envious one. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. At his return + No doubt he will requite it. This is noted, + And generally: whoever the King favours + The Cardinal instantly will find employment, + And far enough from court too. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. All the commons + Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience, + Wish him ten fathom deep: this Duke as much + They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham, + The mirror of all courtesy- + + Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment, tip-staves + before him; the axe with the edge towards him; halberds + on each side; accompanied with SIR THOMAS + LOVELL, SIR NICHOLAS VAUX, SIR WILLIAM SANDYS, + and common people, etc. + + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Stay there, sir, + And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Let's stand close, and behold him. + BUCKINGHAM. All good people, + You that thus far have come to pity me, + Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. + I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, + And by that name must die; yet, heaven bear witness, + And if I have a conscience, let it sink me + Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful! + The law I bear no malice for my death: + 'T has done, upon the premises, but justice. + But those that sought it I could wish more Christians. + Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em; + Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief + Nor build their evils on the graves of great men, + For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em. + For further life in this world I ne'er hope + Nor will I sue, although the King have mercies + More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd me + And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, + His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave + Is only bitter to him, only dying, + Go with me like good angels to my end; + And as the long divorce of steel falls on me + Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, + And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, a God's name. + LOVELL. I do beseech your Grace, for charity, + If ever any malice in your heart + Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. + BUCKINGHAM. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you + As I would be forgiven. I forgive all. + There cannot be those numberless offences + 'Gainst me that I cannot take peace with. No black envy + Shall mark my grave. Commend me to his Grace; + And if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him + You met him half in heaven. My vows and prayers + Yet are the King's, and, till my soul forsake, + Shall cry for blessings on him. May he live + Longer than I have time to tell his years; + Ever belov'd and loving may his rule be; + And when old time Shall lead him to his end, + Goodness and he fill up one monument! + LOVELL. To th' water side I must conduct your Grace; + Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux, + Who undertakes you to your end. + VAUX. Prepare there; + The Duke is coming; see the barge be ready; + And fit it with such furniture as suits + The greatness of his person. + BUCKINGHAM. Nay, Sir Nicholas, + Let it alone; my state now will but mock me. + When I came hither I was Lord High Constable + And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun. + Yet I am richer than my base accusers + That never knew what truth meant; I now seal it; + And with that blood will make 'em one day groan fort. + My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, + Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard, + Flying for succour to his servant Banister, + Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd + And without trial fell; God's peace be with him! + Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying + My father's loss, like a most royal prince, + Restor'd me to my honours, and out of ruins + Made my name once more noble. Now his son, + Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all + That made me happy, at one stroke has taken + For ever from the world. I had my trial, + And must needs say a noble one; which makes me + A little happier than my wretched father; + Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both + Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd most- + A most unnatural and faithless service. + Heaven has an end in all. Yet, you that hear me, + This from a dying man receive as certain: + Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels, + Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends + And give your hearts to, when they once perceive + The least rub in your fortunes, fall away + Like water from ye, never found again + But where they mean to sink ye. All good people, + Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour + Of my long weary life is come upon me. + Farewell; + And when you would say something that is sad, + Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me! + Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and train + FIRST GENTLEMAN. O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls, + I fear, too many curses on their heads + That were the authors. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. If the Duke be guiltless, + 'Tis full of woe; yet I can give you inkling + Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, + Greater than this. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Good angels keep it from us! + What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require + A strong faith to conceal it. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Let me have it; + I do not talk much. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I am confident. + You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear + A buzzing of a separation + Between the King and Katharine? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes, but it held not; + For when the King once heard it, out of anger + He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight + To stop the rumour and allay those tongues + That durst disperse it. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. But that slander, sir, + Is found a truth now; for it grows again + Fresher than e'er it was, and held for certain + The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinal + Or some about him near have, out of malice + To the good Queen, possess'd him with a scruple + That will undo her. To confirm this too, + Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd and lately; + As all think, for this business. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. 'Tis the Cardinal; + And merely to revenge him on the Emperor + For not bestowing on him at his asking + The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I think you have hit the mark; but is't + not cruel + That she should feel the smart of this? The Cardinal + Will have his will, and she must fall. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. 'Tis woeful. + We are too open here to argue this; + Let's think in private more. Exeunt + + + + +ACT II. SCENE 2. + +London. The palace + +Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN reading this letter + + CHAMBERLAIN. 'My lord, + 'The horses your lordship sent for, with all the care + had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish'd. They were + young and handsome, and of the best breed in the north. + When they were ready to set out for London, a man of + my Lord Cardinal's, by commission, and main power, took + 'em from me, with this reason: his master would be serv'd + before a subject, if not before the King; which stopp'd + our mouths, sir.' + + I fear he will indeed. Well, let him have them. + He will have all, I think. + + Enter to the LORD CHAMBERLAIN the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK + + NORFOLK. Well met, my Lord Chamberlain. + CHAMBERLAIN. Good day to both your Graces. + SUFFOLK. How is the King employ'd? + CHAMBERLAIN. I left him private, + Full of sad thoughts and troubles. + NORFOLK. What's the cause? + CHAMBERLAIN. It seems the marriage with his brother's wife + Has crept too near his conscience. + SUFFOLK. No, his conscience + Has crept too near another lady. + NORFOLK. 'Tis so; + This is the Cardinal's doing; the King-Cardinal, + That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune, + Turns what he list. The King will know him one day. + SUFFOLK. Pray God he do! He'll never know himself else. + NORFOLK. How holily he works in all his business! + And with what zeal! For, now he has crack'd the league + Between us and the Emperor, the Queen's great nephew, + He dives into the King's soul and there scatters + Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, + Fears, and despairs-and all these for his marriage; + And out of all these to restore the King, + He counsels a divorce, a loss of her + That like a jewel has hung twenty years + About his neck, yet never lost her lustre; + Of her that loves him with that excellence + That angels love good men with; even of her + That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, + Will bless the King-and is not this course pious? + CHAMBERLAIN. Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true + These news are everywhere; every tongue speaks 'em, + And every true heart weeps for 't. All that dare + Look into these affairs see this main end- + The French King's sister. Heaven will one day open + The King's eyes, that so long have slept upon + This bold bad man. + SUFFOLK. And free us from his slavery. + NORFOLK. We had need pray, and heartily, for our deliverance; + Or this imperious man will work us an + From princes into pages. All men's honours + Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd + Into what pitch he please. + SUFFOLK. For me, my lords, + I love him not, nor fear him-there's my creed; + As I am made without him, so I'll stand, + If the King please; his curses and his blessings + Touch me alike; th' are breath I not believe in. + I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him + To him that made him proud-the Pope. + NORFOLK. Let's in; + And with some other business put the King + From these sad thoughts that work too much upon him. + My lord, you'll bear us company? + CHAMBERLAIN. Excuse me, + The King has sent me otherwhere; besides, + You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him. + Health to your lordships! + NORFOLK. Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain. + Exit LORD CHAMBERLAIN; and the KING draws + the curtain and sits reading pensively + SUFFOLK. How sad he looks; sure, he is much afflicted. + KING. Who's there, ha? + NORFOLK. Pray God he be not angry. + KING HENRY. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves + Into my private meditations? + Who am I, ha? + NORFOLK. A gracious king that pardons all offences + Malice ne'er meant. Our breach of duty this way + Is business of estate, in which we come + To know your royal pleasure. + KING. Ye are too bold. + Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business. + Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha? + + Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS with a commission + + Who's there? My good Lord Cardinal? O my Wolsey, + The quiet of my wounded conscience, + Thou art a cure fit for a King. [To CAMPEIUS] You're + welcome, + Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom. + Use us and it. [To WOLSEY] My good lord, have great care + I be not found a talker. + WOLSEY. Sir, you cannot. + I would your Grace would give us but an hour + Of private conference. + KING. [To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK] We are busy; go. + NORFOLK. [Aside to SUFFOLK] This priest has no pride in him! + SUFFOLK. [Aside to NORFOLK] Not to speak of! + I would not be so sick though for his place. + But this cannot continue. + NORFOLK. [Aside to SUFFOLK] If it do, + I'll venture one have-at-him. + SUFFOLK. [Aside to NORFOLK] I another. + Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK + WOLSEY. Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom + Above all princes, in committing freely + Your scruple to the voice of Christendom. + Who can be angry now? What envy reach you? + The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, + Must now confess, if they have any goodness, + The trial just and noble. All the clerks, + I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms + Have their free voices. Rome the nurse of judgment, + Invited by your noble self, hath sent + One general tongue unto us, this good man, + This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius, + Whom once more I present unto your Highness. + KING. And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome, + And thank the holy conclave for their loves. + They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for. + CAMPEIUS. Your Grace must needs deserve an strangers' loves, + You are so noble. To your Highness' hand + I tender my commission; by whose virtue- + The court of Rome commanding-you, my Lord + Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant + In the unpartial judging of this business. + KING. Two equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted + Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner? + WOLSEY. I know your Majesty has always lov'd her + So dear in heart not to deny her that + A woman of less place might ask by law- + Scholars allow'd freely to argue for her. + KING. Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour + To him that does best. God forbid else. Cardinal, + Prithee call Gardiner to me, my new secretary; + I find him a fit fellow. Exit WOLSEY + + Re-enter WOLSEY with GARDINER + + WOLSEY. [Aside to GARDINER] Give me your hand: much + joy and favour to you; + You are the King's now. + GARDINER. [Aside to WOLSEY] But to be commanded + For ever by your Grace, whose hand has rais'd me. + KING. Come hither, Gardiner. [Walks and whispers] + CAMPEIUS. My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace + In this man's place before him? + WOLSEY. Yes, he was. + CAMPEIUS. Was he not held a learned man? + WOLSEY. Yes, surely. + CAMPEIUS. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then, + Even of yourself, Lord Cardinal. + WOLSEY. How! Of me? + CAMPEIUS. They will not stick to say you envied him + And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, + Kept him a foreign man still; which so griev'd him + That he ran mad and died. + WOLSEY. Heav'n's peace be with him! + That's Christian care enough. For living murmurers + There's places of rebuke. He was a fool, + For he would needs be virtuous: that good fellow, + If I command him, follows my appointment. + I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother, + We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons. + KING. Deliver this with modesty to th' Queen. + Exit GARDINER + The most convenient place that I can think of + For such receipt of learning is Blackfriars; + There ye shall meet about this weighty business- + My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O, my lord, + Would it not grieve an able man to leave + So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience! + O, 'tis a tender place! and I must leave her. Exeunt + + + + +ACT II. SCENE 3. + +London. The palace + +Enter ANNE BULLEN and an OLD LADY + + ANNE. Not for that neither. Here's the pang that pinches: + His Highness having liv'd so long with her, and she + So good a lady that no tongue could ever + Pronounce dishonour of her-by my life, + She never knew harm-doing-O, now, after + So many courses of the sun enthroned, + Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which + To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than + 'Tis sweet at first t' acquire-after this process, + To give her the avaunt, it is a pity + Would move a monster. + OLD LADY. Hearts of most hard temper + Melt and lament for her. + ANNE. O, God's will! much better + She ne'er had known pomp; though't be temporal, + Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce + It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging + As soul and body's severing. + OLD LADY. Alas, poor lady! + She's a stranger now again. + ANNE. So much the more + Must pity drop upon her. Verily, + I swear 'tis better to be lowly born + And range with humble livers in content + Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring grief + And wear a golden sorrow. + OLD LADY. Our content + Is our best having. + ANNE. By my troth and maidenhead, + I would not be a queen. + OLD LADY. Beshrew me, I would, + And venture maidenhead for 't; and so would you, + For all this spice of your hypocrisy. + You that have so fair parts of woman on you + Have too a woman's heart, which ever yet + Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty; + Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts, + Saving your mincing, the capacity + Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive + If you might please to stretch it. + ANNE. Nay, good troth. + OLD LADY. Yes, troth and troth. You would not be a queen! + ANNE. No, not for all the riches under heaven. + OLD LADY. 'Tis strange: a threepence bow'd would hire me, + Old as I am, to queen it. But, I pray you, + What think you of a duchess? Have you limbs + To bear that load of title? + ANNE. No, in truth. + OLD LADY. Then you are weakly made. Pluck off a little; + I would not be a young count in your way + For more than blushing comes to. If your back + Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak + Ever to get a boy. + ANNE. How you do talk! + I swear again I would not be a queen + For all the world. + OLD LADY. In faith, for little England + You'd venture an emballing. I myself + Would for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd + No more to th' crown but that. Lo, who comes here? + + Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN + + CHAMBERLAIN. Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know + The secret of your conference? + ANNE. My good lord, + Not your demand; it values not your asking. + Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying. + CHAMBERLAIN. It was a gentle business and becoming + The action of good women; there is hope + All will be well. + ANNE. Now, I pray God, amen! + CHAMBERLAIN. You bear a gentle mind, and heav'nly blessings + Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, + Perceive I speak sincerely and high notes + Ta'en of your many virtues, the King's Majesty + Commends his good opinion of you to you, and + Does purpose honour to you no less flowing + Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to which tide + A thousand pound a year, annual support, + Out of his grace he adds. + ANNE. I do not know + What kind of my obedience I should tender; + More than my all is nothing, nor my prayers + Are not words duly hallowed, nor my wishes + More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes + Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship, + Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience, + As from a blushing handmaid, to his Highness; + Whose health and royalty I pray for. + CHAMBERLAIN. Lady, + I shall not fail t' approve the fair conceit + The King hath of you. [Aside] I have perus'd her well: + Beauty and honour in her are so mingled + That they have caught the King; and who knows yet + But from this lady may proceed a gem + To lighten all this isle?-I'll to the King + And say I spoke with you. + ANNE. My honour'd lord! Exit LORD CHAMBERLAIN + OLD LADY. Why, this it is: see, see! + I have been begging sixteen years in court- + Am yet a courtier beggarly-nor could + Come pat betwixt too early and too late + For any suit of pounds; and you, O fate! + A very fresh-fish here-fie, fie, fie upon + This compell'd fortune!-have your mouth fill'd up + Before you open it. + ANNE. This is strange to me. + OLD LADY. How tastes it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no. + There was a lady once-'tis an old story- + That would not be a queen, that would she not, + For all the mud in Egypt. Have you heard it? + ANNE. Come, you are pleasant. + OLD LADY. With your theme I could + O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke! + A thousand pounds a year for pure respect! + No other obligation! By my life, + That promises moe thousands: honour's train + Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time + I know your back will bear a duchess. Say, + Are you not stronger than you were? + ANNE. Good lady, + Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, + And leave me out on't. Would I had no being, + If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me + To think what follows. + The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful + In our long absence. Pray, do not deliver + What here y' have heard to her. + OLD LADY. What do you think me? Exeunt + + + + +ACT II. SCENE 4. + +London. A hall in Blackfriars + +Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two VERGERS, with short silver wands; +next them, two SCRIBES, in the habit of doctors; after them, +the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY alone; after him, the BISHOPS OF LINCOLN, ELY, +ROCHESTER, and SAINT ASAPH; next them, with some small distance, +follows a GENTLEMAN bearing the purse, with the great seal, +and a Cardinal's hat; then two PRIESTS, bearing each silver cross; +then a GENTLEMAN USHER bareheaded, accompanied with a SERGEANT-AT-ARMS +bearing a silver mace; then two GENTLEMEN bearing two great silver pillars; +after them, side by side, the two CARDINALS, WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS; +two NOBLEMEN with the sword and mace. Then enter the KING and QUEEN +and their trains. The KING takes place under the cloth of state; +the two CARDINALS sit under him as judges. The QUEEN takes place +some distance from the KING. The BISHOPS place themselves on each side +of the court, in manner of consistory; below them the SCRIBES. +The LORDS sit next the BISHOPS. The rest of the attendants stand +in convenient order about the stage + + WOLSEY. Whilst our commission from Rome is read, + Let silence be commanded. + KING. What's the need? + It hath already publicly been read, + And on all sides th' authority allow'd; + You may then spare that time. + WOLSEY. Be't so; proceed. + SCRIBE. Say 'Henry King of England, come into the court.' + CRIER. Henry King of England, &c. + KING. Here. + SCRIBE. Say 'Katharine Queen of England, come into the court.' + CRIER. Katharine Queen of England, &c. + + The QUEEN makes no answer, rises out of her chair, + goes about the court, comes to the KING, and kneels + at his feet; then speaks + + QUEEN KATHARINE. Sir, I desire you do me right and justice, + And to bestow your pity on me; for + I am a most poor woman and a stranger, + Born out of your dominions, having here + No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance + Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, + In what have I offended you? What cause + Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure + That thus you should proceed to put me of + And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness, + I have been to you a true and humble wife, + At all times to your will conformable, + Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, + Yea, subject to your countenance-glad or sorry + As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour + I ever contradicted your desire + Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends + Have I not strove to love, although I knew + He were mine enemy? What friend of mine + That had to him deriv'd your anger did + Continue in my liking? Nay, gave notice + He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind + That I have been your wife in this obedience + Upward of twenty years, and have been blest + With many children by you. If, in the course + And process of this time, you can report, + And prove it too against mine honour, aught, + My bond to wedlock or my love and duty, + Against your sacred person, in God's name, + Turn me away and let the foul'st contempt + Shut door upon me, and so give me up + To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you, sir, + The King, your father, was reputed for + A prince most prudent, of an excellent + And unmatch'd wit and judgment; Ferdinand, + My father, King of Spain, was reckon'd one + The wisest prince that there had reign'd by many + A year before. It is not to be question'd + That they had gather'd a wise council to them + Of every realm, that did debate this business, + Who deem'd our marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly + Beseech you, sir, to spare me till I may + Be by my friends in Spain advis'd, whose counsel + I will implore. If not, i' th' name of God, + Your pleasure be fulfill'd! + WOLSEY. You have here, lady, + And of your choice, these reverend fathers-men + Of singular integrity and learning, + Yea, the elect o' th' land, who are assembled + To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless + That longer you desire the court, as well + For your own quiet as to rectify + What is unsettled in the King. + CAMPEIUS. His Grace + Hath spoken well and justly; therefore, madam, + It's fit this royal session do proceed + And that, without delay, their arguments + Be now produc'd and heard. + QUEEN KATHARINE. Lord Cardinal, + To you I speak. + WOLSEY. Your pleasure, madam? + QUEEN KATHARINE. Sir, + I am about to weep; but, thinking that + We are a queen, or long have dream'd so, certain + The daughter of a king, my drops of tears + I'll turn to sparks of fire. + WOLSEY. Be patient yet. + QUEEN KATHARINE. I Will, when you are humble; nay, before + Or God will punish me. I do believe, + Induc'd by potent circumstances, that + You are mine enemy, and make my challenge + You shall not be my judge; for it is you + Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me- + Which God's dew quench! Therefore I say again, + I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul + Refuse you for my judge, whom yet once more + I hold my most malicious foe and think not + At all a friend to truth. + WOLSEY. I do profess + You speak not like yourself, who ever yet + Have stood to charity and display'd th' effects + Of disposition gentle and of wisdom + O'ertopping woman's pow'r. Madam, you do me wrong: + I have no spleen against you, nor injustice + For you or any; how far I have proceeded, + Or how far further shall, is warranted + By a commission from the Consistory, + Yea, the whole Consistory of Rome. You charge me + That I have blown this coal: I do deny it. + The King is present; if it be known to him + That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound, + And worthily, my falsehood! Yea, as much + As you have done my truth. If he know + That I am free of your report, he knows + I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him + It lies to cure me, and the cure is to + Remove these thoughts from you; the which before + His Highness shall speak in, I do beseech + You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking + And to say so no more. + QUEEN KATHARINE. My lord, my lord, + I am a simple woman, much too weak + T' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek and humble-mouth'd; + You sign your place and calling, in full seeming, + With meekness and humility; but your heart + Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. + You have, by fortune and his Highness' favours, + Gone slightly o'er low steps, and now are mounted + Where pow'rs are your retainers, and your words, + Domestics to you, serve your will as't please + Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you + You tender more your person's honour than + Your high profession spiritual; that again + I do refuse you for my judge and here, + Before you all, appeal unto the Pope, + To bring my whole cause 'fore his Holiness + And to be judg'd by him. + [She curtsies to the KING, and offers to depart] + CAMPEIUS. The Queen is obstinate, + Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and + Disdainful to be tried by't; 'tis not well. + She's going away. + KING. Call her again. + CRIER. Katharine Queen of England, come into the court. + GENTLEMAN USHER. Madam, you are call'd back. + QUEEN KATHARINE. What need you note it? Pray you keep your way; + When you are call'd, return. Now the Lord help! + They vex me past my patience. Pray you pass on. + I will not tarry; no, nor ever more + Upon this business my appearance make + In any of their courts. Exeunt QUEEN and her attendants + KING. Go thy ways, Kate. + That man i' th' world who shall report he has + A better wife, let him in nought be trusted + For speaking false in that. Thou art, alone- + If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, + Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, + Obeying in commanding, and thy parts + Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out- + The queen of earthly queens. She's noble born; + And like her true nobility she has + Carried herself towards me. + WOLSEY. Most gracious sir, + In humblest manner I require your Highness + That it shall please you to declare in hearing + Of all these ears-for where I am robb'd and bound, + There must I be unloos'd, although not there + At once and fully satisfied-whether ever I + Did broach this business to your Highness, or + Laid any scruple in your way which might + Induce you to the question on't, or ever + Have to you, but with thanks to God for such + A royal lady, spake one the least word that might + Be to the prejudice of her present state, + Or touch of her good person? + KING. My Lord Cardinal, + I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour, + I free you from't. You are not to be taught + That you have many enemies that know not + Why they are so, but, like to village curs, + Bark when their fellows do. By some of these + The Queen is put in anger. Y'are excus'd. + But will you be more justified? You ever + Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never desir'd + It to be stirr'd; but oft have hind'red, oft, + The passages made toward it. On my honour, + I speak my good Lord Cardinal to this point, + And thus far clear him. Now, what mov'd me to't, + I will be bold with time and your attention. + Then mark th' inducement. Thus it came-give heed to't: + My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness, + Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd + By th' Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador, + Who had been hither sent on the debating + A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and + Our daughter Mary. I' th' progress of this business, + Ere a determinate resolution, he- + I mean the Bishop-did require a respite + Wherein he might the King his lord advertise + Whether our daughter were legitimate, + Respecting this our marriage with the dowager, + Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook + The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me, + Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble + The region of my breast, which forc'd such way + That many maz'd considerings did throng + And press'd in with this caution. First, methought + I stood not in the smile of heaven, who had + Commanded nature that my lady's womb, + If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should + Do no more offices of life to't than + The grave does to the dead; for her male issue + Or died where they were made, or shortly after + This world had air'd them. Hence I took a thought + This was a judgment on me, that my kingdom, + Well worthy the best heir o' th' world, should not + Be gladded in't by me. Then follows that + I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in + By this my issue's fail, and that gave to me + Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in + The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer + Toward this remedy, whereupon we are + Now present here together; that's to say + I meant to rectify my conscience, which + I then did feel full sick, and yet not well, + By all the reverend fathers of the land + And doctors learn'd. First, I began in private + With you, my Lord of Lincoln; you remember + How under my oppression I did reek, + When I first mov'd you. + LINCOLN. Very well, my liege. + KING. I have spoke long; be pleas'd yourself to say + How far you satisfied me. + LINCOLN. So please your Highness, + The question did at first so stagger me- + Bearing a state of mighty moment in't + And consequence of dread-that I committed + The daring'st counsel which I had to doubt, + And did entreat your Highness to this course + Which you are running here. + KING. I then mov'd you, + My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leave + To make this present summons. Unsolicited + I left no reverend person in this court, + But by particular consent proceeded + Under your hands and seals; therefore, go on, + For no dislike i' th' world against the person + Of the good Queen, but the sharp thorny points + Of my alleged reasons, drives this forward. + Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life + And kingly dignity, we are contented + To wear our moral state to come with her, + Katharine our queen, before the primest creature + That's paragon'd o' th' world. + CAMPEIUS. So please your Highness, + The Queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness + That we adjourn this court till further day; + Meanwhile must be an earnest motion + Made to the Queen to call back her appeal + She intends unto his Holiness. + KING. [Aside] I may perceive + These cardinals trifle with me. I abhor + This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome. + My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer, + Prithee return. With thy approach I know + My comfort comes along. -Break up the court; + I say, set on. Exuent in manner as they entered + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE 1. + +London. The QUEEN'S apartments + +Enter the QUEEN and her women, as at work + + QUEEN KATHARINE. Take thy lute, wench. My soul grows + sad with troubles; + Sing and disperse 'em, if thou canst. Leave working. + + SONG + + Orpheus with his lute made trees, + And the mountain tops that freeze, + Bow themselves when he did sing; + To his music plants and flowers + Ever sprung, as sun and showers + There had made a lasting spring. + + Every thing that heard him play, + Even the billows of the sea, + Hung their heads and then lay by. + In sweet music is such art, + Killing care and grief of heart + Fall asleep or hearing die. + + Enter a GENTLEMAN + + QUEEN KATHARINE. How now? + GENTLEMAN. An't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals + Wait in the presence. + QUEEN KATHARINE. Would they speak with me? + GENTLEMAN. They will'd me say so, madam. + QUEEN KATHARINE. Pray their Graces + To come near. [Exit GENTLEMAN] What can be their business + With me, a poor weak woman, fall'n from favour? + I do not like their coming. Now I think on't, + They should be good men, their affairs as righteous; + But all hoods make not monks. + + Enter the two CARDINALS, WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS + + WOLSEY. Peace to your Highness! + QUEEN KATHARINE. Your Graces find me here part of housewife; + I would be all, against the worst may happen. + What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords? + WOLSEY. May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw + Into your private chamber, we shall give you + The full cause of our coming. + QUEEN KATHARINE. Speak it here; + There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience, + Deserves a corner. Would all other women + Could speak this with as free a soul as I do! + My lords, I care not-so much I am happy + Above a number-if my actions + Were tried by ev'ry tongue, ev'ry eye saw 'em, + Envy and base opinion set against 'em, + I know my life so even. If your business + Seek me out, and that way I am wife in, + Out with it boldly; truth loves open dealing. + WOLSEY. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenis-sima- + QUEEN KATHARINE. O, good my lord, no Latin! + I am not such a truant since my coming, + As not to know the language I have liv'd in; + A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious; + Pray speak in English. Here are some will thank you, + If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake: + Believe me, she has had much wrong. Lord Cardinal, + The willing'st sin I ever yet committed + May be absolv'd in English. + WOLSEY. Noble lady, + I am sorry my integrity should breed, + And service to his Majesty and you, + So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant + We come not by the way of accusation + To taint that honour every good tongue blesses, + Nor to betray you any way to sorrow- + You have too much, good lady; but to know + How you stand minded in the weighty difference + Between the King and you, and to deliver, + Like free and honest men, our just opinions + And comforts to your cause. + CAMPEIUS. Most honour'd madam, + My Lord of York, out of his noble nature, + Zeal and obedience he still bore your Grace, + Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure + Both of his truth and him-which was too far- + Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace, + His service and his counsel. + QUEEN KATHARINE. [Aside] To betray me.- + My lords, I thank you both for your good wins; + Ye speak like honest men-pray God ye prove so! + But how to make ye suddenly an answer, + In such a point of weight, so near mine honour, + More near my life, I fear, with my weak wit, + And to such men of gravity and learning, + In truth I know not. I was set at work + Among my maids, full little, God knows, looking + Either for such men or such business. + For her sake that I have been-for I feel + The last fit of my greatness-good your Graces, + Let me have time and counsel for my cause. + Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless! + WOLSEY. Madam, you wrong the King's love with these fears; + Your hopes and friends are infinite. + QUEEN KATHARINE. In England + But little for my profit; can you think, lords, + That any Englishman dare give me counsel? + Or be a known friend, 'gainst his Highness' pleasure- + Though he be grown so desperate to be honest- + And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends, + They that must weigh out my afflictions, + They that my trust must grow to, live not here; + They are, as all my other comforts, far hence, + In mine own country, lords. + CAMPEIUS. I would your Grace + Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. + QUEEN KATHARINE. How, sir? + CAMPEIUS. Put your main cause into the King's protection; + He's loving and most gracious. 'Twill be much + Both for your honour better and your cause; + For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye + You'll part away disgrac'd. + WOLSEY. He tells you rightly. + QUEEN KATHARINE. Ye tell me what ye wish for both-my ruin. + Is this your Christian counsel? Out upon ye! + Heaven is above all yet: there sits a Judge + That no king can corrupt. + CAMPEIUS. Your rage mistakes us. + QUEEN KATHARINE. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, + Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues; + But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye. + Mend 'em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort? + The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady- + A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd? + I will not wish ye half my miseries: + I have more charity; but say I warned ye. + Take heed, for heaven's sake take heed, lest at once + The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye. + WOLSEY. Madam, this is a mere distraction; + You turn the good we offer into envy. + QUEEN KATHARINE. Ye turn me into nothing. Woe upon ye, + And all such false professors! Would you have me- + If you have any justice, any pity, + If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits- + Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? + Alas! has banish'd me his bed already, + His love too long ago! I am old, my lords, + And all the fellowship I hold now with him + Is only my obedience. What can happen + To me above this wretchedness? All your studies + Make me a curse like this. + CAMPEIUS. Your fears are worse. + QUEEN KATHARINE. Have I liv'd thus long-let me speak myself, + Since virtue finds no friends-a wife, a true one? + A woman, I dare say without vain-glory, + Never yet branded with suspicion? + Have I with all my full affections + Still met the King, lov'd him next heav'n, obey'd him, + Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him, + Almost forgot my prayers to content him, + And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well, lords. + Bring me a constant woman to her husband, + One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure, + And to that woman, when she has done most, + Yet will I add an honour-a great patience. + WOLSEY. Madam, you wander from the good we aim at. + QUEEN KATHARINE. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty, + To give up willingly that noble title + Your master wed me to: nothing but death + Shall e'er divorce my dignities. + WOLSEY. Pray hear me. + QUEEN KATHARINE. Would I had never trod this English earth, + Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! + Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts. + What will become of me now, wretched lady? + I am the most unhappy woman living. + [To her WOMEN] Alas, poor wenches, where are now + your fortunes? + Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, + No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me; + Almost no grave allow'd me. Like the My, + That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, + I'll hang my head and perish. + WOLSEY. If your Grace + Could but be brought to know our ends are honest, + You'd feel more comfort. Why should we, good lady, + Upon what cause, wrong you? Alas, our places, + The way of our profession is against it; + We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow 'em. + For goodness' sake, consider what you do; + How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly + Grow from the King's acquaintance, by this carriage. + The hearts of princes kiss obedience, + So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits + They swell and grow as terrible as storms. + I know you have a gentle, noble temper, + A soul as even as a calm. Pray think us + Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants. + CAMPEIUS. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues + With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit, + As yours was put into you, ever casts + Such doubts as false coin from it. The King loves you; + Beware you lose it not. For us, if you please + To trust us in your business, we are ready + To use our utmost studies in your service. + QUEEN KATHARINE. Do what ye will my lords; and pray + forgive me + If I have us'd myself unmannerly; + You know I am a woman, lacking wit + To make a seemly answer to such persons. + Pray do my service to his Majesty; + He has my heart yet, and shall have my prayers + While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers, + Bestow your counsels on me; she now begs + That little thought, when she set footing here, + She should have bought her dignities so dear. Exeunt + + + +ACT III.SCENE 2. + +London. The palace + +Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK, the DUKE OF SUFFOLK, the EARL OF SURREY, +and the LORD CHAMBERLAIN + + NORFOLK. If you will now unite in your complaints + And force them with a constancy, the Cardinal + Cannot stand under them: if you omit + The offer of this time, I cannot promise + But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces + With these you bear already. + SURREY. I am joyful + To meet the least occasion that may give me + Remembrance of my father-in-law, the Duke, + To be reveng'd on him. + SUFFOLK. Which of the peers + Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least + Strangely neglected? When did he regard + The stamp of nobleness in any person + Out of himself? + CHAMBERLAIN. My lords, you speak your pleasures. + What he deserves of you and me I know; + What we can do to him-though now the time + Gives way to us-I much fear. If you cannot + Bar his access to th' King, never attempt + Anything on him; for he hath a witchcraft + Over the King in's tongue. + NORFOLK. O, fear him not! + His spell in that is out; the King hath found + Matter against him that for ever mars + The honey of his language. No, he's settled, + Not to come off, in his displeasure. + SURREY. Sir, + I should be glad to hear such news as this + Once every hour. + NORFOLK. Believe it, this is true: + In the divorce his contrary proceedings + Are all unfolded; wherein he appears + As I would wish mine enemy. + SURREY. How came + His practices to light? + SUFFOLK. Most Strangely. + SURREY. O, how, how? + SUFFOLK. The Cardinal's letters to the Pope miscarried, + And came to th' eye o' th' King; wherein was read + How that the Cardinal did entreat his Holiness + To stay the judgment o' th' divorce; for if + It did take place, 'I do' quoth he 'perceive + My king is tangled in affection to + A creature of the Queen's, Lady Anne Bullen.' + SURREY. Has the King this? + SUFFOLK. Believe it. + SURREY. Will this work? + CHAMBERLAIN. The King in this perceives him how he coasts + And hedges his own way. But in this point + All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic + After his patient's death: the King already + Hath married the fair lady. + SURREY. Would he had! + SUFFOLK. May you be happy in your wish, my lord! + For, I profess, you have it. + SURREY. Now, all my joy + Trace the conjunction! + SUFFOLK. My amen to't! + NORFOLK. An men's! + SUFFOLK. There's order given for her coronation; + Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left + To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords, + She is a gallant creature, and complete + In mind and feature. I persuade me from her + Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall + In it be memoriz'd. + SURREY. But will the King + Digest this letter of the Cardinal's? + The Lord forbid! + NORFOLK. Marry, amen! + SUFFOLK. No, no; + There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose + Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius + Is stol'n away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave; + Has left the cause o' th' King unhandled, and + Is posted, as the agent of our Cardinal, + To second all his plot. I do assure you + The King cried 'Ha!' at this. + CHAMBERLAIN. Now, God incense him, + And let him cry 'Ha!' louder! + NORFOLK. But, my lord, + When returns Cranmer? + SUFFOLK. He is return'd in his opinions; which + Have satisfied the King for his divorce, + Together with all famous colleges + Almost in Christendom. Shortly, I believe, + His second marriage shall be publish'd, and + Her coronation. Katharine no more + Shall be call'd queen, but princess dowager + And widow to Prince Arthur. + NORFOLK. This same Cranmer's + A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain + In the King's business. + SUFFOLK. He has; and we shall see him + For it an archbishop. + NORFOLK. So I hear. + SUFFOLK. 'Tis so. + + Enter WOLSEY and CROMWELL + + The Cardinal! + NORFOLK. Observe, observe, he's moody. + WOLSEY. The packet, Cromwell, + Gave't you the King? + CROMWELL. To his own hand, in's bedchamber. + WOLSEY. Look'd he o' th' inside of the paper? + CROMWELL. Presently + He did unseal them; and the first he view'd, + He did it with a serious mind; a heed + Was in his countenance. You he bade + Attend him here this morning. + WOLSEY. Is he ready + To come abroad? + CROMWELL. I think by this he is. + WOLSEY. Leave me awhile. Exit CROMWELL + [Aside] It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon, + The French King's sister; he shall marry her. + Anne Bullen! No, I'll no Anne Bullens for him; + There's more in't than fair visage. Bullen! + No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish + To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke! + NORFOLK. He's discontented. + SUFFOLK. May be he hears the King + Does whet his anger to him. + SURREY. Sharp enough, + Lord, for thy justice! + WOLSEY. [Aside] The late Queen's gentlewoman, a knight's + daughter, + To be her mistress' mistress! The Queen's queen! + This candle burns not clear. 'Tis I must snuff it; + Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuous + And well deserving? Yet I know her for + A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to + Our cause that she should lie i' th' bosom of + Our hard-rul'd King. Again, there is sprung up + An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one + Hath crawl'd into the favour of the King, + And is his oracle. + NORFOLK. He is vex'd at something. + + Enter the KING, reading of a schedule, and LOVELL + + SURREY. I would 'twere something that would fret the string, + The master-cord on's heart! + SUFFOLK. The King, the King! + KING. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated + To his own portion! And what expense by th' hour + Seems to flow from him! How, i' th' name of thrift, + Does he rake this together?-Now, my lords, + Saw you the Cardinal? + NORFOLK. My lord, we have + Stood here observing him. Some strange commotion + Is in his brain: he bites his lip and starts, + Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, + Then lays his finger on his temple; straight + Springs out into fast gait; then stops again, + Strikes his breast hard; and anon he casts + His eye against the moon. In most strange postures + We have seen him set himself. + KING. It may well be + There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning + Papers of state he sent me to peruse, + As I requir'd; and wot you what I found + There-on my conscience, put unwittingly? + Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing + The several parcels of his plate, his treasure, + Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which + I find at such proud rate that it outspeaks + Possession of a subject. + NORFOLK. It's heaven's will; + Some spirit put this paper in the packet + To bless your eye withal. + KING. If we did think + His contemplation were above the earth + And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still + dwell in his musings; but I am afraid + His thinkings are below the moon, not worth + His serious considering. + [The KING takes his seat and whispers LOVELL, + who goes to the CARDINAL] + WOLSEY. Heaven forgive me! + Ever God bless your Highness! + KING. Good, my lord, + You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory + Of your best graces in your mind; the which + You were now running o'er. You have scarce time + To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span + To keep your earthly audit; sure, in that + I deem you an ill husband, and am glad + To have you therein my companion. + WOLSEY. Sir, + For holy offices I have a time; a time + To think upon the part of business which + I bear i' th' state; and nature does require + Her times of preservation, which perforce + I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal, + Must give my tendance to. + KING. You have said well. + WOLSEY. And ever may your Highness yoke together, + As I will lend you cause, my doing well + With my well saying! + KING. 'Tis well said again; + And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well; + And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you: + He said he did; and with his deed did crown + His word upon you. Since I had my office + I have kept you next my heart; have not alone + Employ'd you where high profits might come home, + But par'd my present havings to bestow + My bounties upon you. + WOLSEY. [Aside] What should this mean? + SURREY. [Aside] The Lord increase this business! + KING. Have I not made you + The prime man of the state? I pray you tell me + If what I now pronounce you have found true; + And, if you may confess it, say withal + If you are bound to us or no. What say you? + WOLSEY. My sovereign, I confess your royal graces, + Show'r'd on me daily, have been more than could + My studied purposes requite; which went + Beyond all man's endeavours. My endeavours, + Have ever come too short of my desires, + Yet fil'd with my abilities; mine own ends + Have been mine so that evermore they pointed + To th' good of your most sacred person and + The profit of the state. For your great graces + Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I + Can nothing render but allegiant thanks; + My pray'rs to heaven for you; my loyalty, + Which ever has and ever shall be growing, + Till death, that winter, kill it. + KING. Fairly answer'd! + A loyal and obedient subject is + Therein illustrated; the honour of it + Does pay the act of it, as, i' th' contrary, + The foulness is the punishment. I presume + That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you, + My heart dropp'd love, my pow'r rain'd honour, more + On you than any, so your hand and heart, + Your brain, and every function of your power, + Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, + As 'twere in love's particular, be more + To me, your friend, than any. + WOLSEY. I do profess + That for your Highness' good I ever labour'd + More than mine own; that am, have, and will be- + Though all the world should crack their duty to you, + And throw it from their soul; though perils did + Abound as thick as thought could make 'em, and + Appear in forms more horrid-yet my duty, + As doth a rock against the chiding flood, + Should the approach of this wild river break, + And stand unshaken yours. + KING. 'Tis nobly spoken. + Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, + For you have seen him open 't. Read o'er this; + [Giving him papers] + And after, this; and then to breakfast with + What appetite you have. + Exit the KING, frowning upon the CARDINAL; the NOBLES + throng after him, smiling and whispering + WOLSEY. What should this mean? + What sudden anger's this? How have I reap'd it? + He parted frowning from me, as if ruin + Leap'd from his eyes; so looks the chafed lion + Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him- + Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper; + I fear, the story of his anger. 'Tis so; + This paper has undone me. 'Tis th' account + Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together + For mine own ends; indeed to gain the popedom, + And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence, + Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil + Made me put this main secret in the packet + I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this? + No new device to beat this from his brains? + I know 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know + A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune, + Will bring me off again. What's this? 'To th' Pope.' + The letter, as I live, with all the business + I writ to's Holiness. Nay then, farewell! + I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, + And from that full meridian of my glory + I haste now to my setting. I shall fall + Like a bright exhalation in the evening, + And no man see me more. + + Re-enter to WOLSEY the DUKES OF NORFOLK and + SUFFOLK, the EARL OF SURREY, and the LORD + CHAMBERLAIN + + NORFOLK. Hear the King's pleasure, Cardinal, who commands you + To render up the great seal presently + Into our hands, and to confine yourself + To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester's, + Till you hear further from his Highness. + WOLSEY. Stay: + Where's your commission, lords? Words cannot carry + Authority so weighty. + SUFFOLK. Who dares cross 'em, + Bearing the King's will from his mouth expressly? + WOLSEY. Till I find more than will or words to do it- + I mean your malice-know, officious lords, + I dare and must deny it. Now I feel + Of what coarse metal ye are moulded-envy; + How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, + As if it fed ye; and how sleek and wanton + Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin! + Follow your envious courses, men of malice; + You have Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt + In time will find their fit rewards. That seal + You ask with such a violence, the King- + Mine and your master-with his own hand gave me; + Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours, + During my life; and, to confirm his goodness, + Tied it by letters-patents. Now, who'll take it? + SURREY. The King, that gave it. + WOLSEY. It must be himself then. + SURREY. Thou art a proud traitor, priest. + WOLSEY. Proud lord, thou liest. + Within these forty hours Surrey durst better + Have burnt that tongue than said so. + SURREY. Thy ambition, + Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land + Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law. + The heads of all thy brother cardinals, + With thee and all thy best parts bound together, + Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy! + You sent me deputy for Ireland; + Far from his succour, from the King, from all + That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him; + Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, + Absolv'd him with an axe. + WOLSEY. This, and all else + This talking lord can lay upon my credit, + I answer is most false. The Duke by law + Found his deserts; how innocent I was + From any private malice in his end, + His noble jury and foul cause can witness. + If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you + You have as little honesty as honour, + That in the way of loyalty and truth + Toward the King, my ever royal master, + Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be + And an that love his follies. + SURREY. By my soul, + Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel + My sword i' the life-blood of thee else. My lords + Can ye endure to hear this arrogance? + And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely, + To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet, + Farewell nobility! Let his Grace go forward + And dare us with his cap like larks. + WOLSEY. All goodness + Is poison to thy stomach. + SURREY. Yes, that goodness + Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, + Into your own hands, Cardinal, by extortion; + The goodness of your intercepted packets + You writ to th' Pope against the King; your goodness, + Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. + My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble, + As you respect the common good, the state + Of our despis'd nobility, our issues, + Whom, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen- + Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles + Collected from his life. I'll startle you + Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown wench + Lay kissing in your arms, Lord Cardinal. + WOLSEY. How much, methinks, I could despise this man, + But that I am bound in charity against it! + NORFOLK. Those articles, my lord, are in the King's hand; + But, thus much, they are foul ones. + WOLSEY. So much fairer + And spotless shall mine innocence arise, + When the King knows my truth. + SURREY. This cannot save you. + I thank my memory I yet remember + Some of these articles; and out they shall. + Now, if you can blush and cry guilty, Cardinal, + You'll show a little honesty. + WOLSEY. Speak on, sir; + I dare your worst objections. If I blush, + It is to see a nobleman want manners. + SURREY. I had rather want those than my head. Have at you! + First, that without the King's assent or knowledge + You wrought to be a legate; by which power + You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops. + NORFOLK. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else + To foreign princes, 'Ego et Rex meus' + Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the King + To be your servant. + SUFFOLK. Then, that without the knowledge + Either of King or Council, when you went + Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold + To carry into Flanders the great seal. + SURREY. Item, you sent a large commission + To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude, + Without the King's will or the state's allowance, + A league between his Highness and Ferrara. + SUFFOLK. That out of mere ambition you have caus'd + Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the King's coin. + SURREY. Then, that you have sent innumerable substance, + By what means got I leave to your own conscience, + To furnish Rome and to prepare the ways + You have for dignities, to the mere undoing + Of all the kingdom. Many more there are, + Which, since they are of you, and odious, + I will not taint my mouth with. + CHAMBERLAIN. O my lord, + Press not a falling man too far! 'Tis virtue. + His faults lie open to the laws; let them, + Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him + So little of his great self. + SURREY. I forgive him. + SUFFOLK. Lord Cardinal, the King's further pleasure is- + Because all those things you have done of late, + By your power legatine within this kingdom, + Fall into th' compass of a praemunire- + That therefore such a writ be sued against you: + To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, + Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be + Out of the King's protection. This is my charge. + NORFOLK. And so we'll leave you to your meditations + How to live better. For your stubborn answer + About the giving back the great seal to us, + The King shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you. + So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinal. + Exeunt all but WOLSEY + WOLSEY. So farewell to the little good you bear me. + Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! + This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth + The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms + And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; + The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, + And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely + His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, + And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, + Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, + This many summers in a sea of glory; + But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride + At length broke under me, and now has left me, + Weary and old with service, to the mercy + Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. + Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye; + I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched + Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! + There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, + That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin + More pangs and fears than wars or women have; + And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, + Never to hope again. + + Enter CROMWELL, standing amazed + + Why, how now, Cromwell! + CROMWELL. I have no power to speak, sir. + WOLSEY. What, amaz'd + At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder + A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, + I am fall'n indeed. + CROMWELL. How does your Grace? + WOLSEY. Why, well; + Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. + I know myself now, and I feel within me + A peace above all earthly dignities, + A still and quiet conscience. The King has cur'd me, + I humbly thank his Grace; and from these shoulders, + These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken + A load would sink a navy-too much honour. + O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden + Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven! + CROMWELL. I am glad your Grace has made that right use of it. + WOLSEY. I hope I have. I am able now, methinks, + Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, + To endure more miseries and greater far + Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. + What news abroad? + CROMWELL. The heaviest and the worst + Is your displeasure with the King. + WOLSEY. God bless him! + CROMWELL. The next is that Sir Thomas More is chosen + Lord Chancellor in your place. + WOLSEY. That's somewhat sudden. + But he's a learned man. May he continue + Long in his Highness' favour, and do justice + For truth's sake and his conscience; that his bones + When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings, + May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on him! + What more? + CROMWELL. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, + Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. + WOLSEY. That's news indeed. + CROMWELL. Last, that the Lady Anne, + Whom the King hath in secrecy long married, + This day was view'd in open as his queen, + Going to chapel; and the voice is now + Only about her coronation. + WOLSEY. There was the weight that pull'd me down. + O Cromwell, + The King has gone beyond me. All my glories + In that one woman I have lost for ever. + No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, + Or gild again the noble troops that waited + Upon my smiles. Go get thee from me, Cromwell; + I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now + To be thy lord and master. Seek the King; + That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him + What and how true thou art. He will advance thee; + Some little memory of me will stir him- + I know his noble nature-not to let + Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, + Neglect him not; make use now, and provide + For thine own future safety. + CROMWELL. O my lord, + Must I then leave you? Must I needs forgo + So good, so noble, and so true a master? + Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, + With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. + The King shall have my service; but my prayers + For ever and for ever shall be yours. + WOLSEY. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear + In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me, + Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. + Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell, + And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, + And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention + Of me more must be heard of, say I taught thee- + Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, + And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, + Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in- + A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. + Mark but my fall and that that ruin'd me. + Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: + By that sin fell the angels. How can man then, + The image of his Maker, hope to win by it? + Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; + Corruption wins not more than honesty. + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace + To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not; + Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, + Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, + Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! + Serve the King, and-prithee lead me in. + There take an inventory of all I have + To the last penny; 'tis the King's. My robe, + And my integrity to heaven, is all + I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! + Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal + I serv'd my King, he would not in mine age + Have left me naked to mine enemies. + CROMWELL. Good sir, have patience. + WOLSEY. So I have. Farewell + The hopes of court! My hopes in heaven do dwell. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 1. + +A street in Westminster + +Enter two GENTLEMEN, meeting one another + + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Y'are well met once again. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. So are you. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. You come to take your stand here, and + behold + The Lady Anne pass from her coronation? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter + The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd + sorrow; + This, general joy. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Tis well. The citizens, + I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds- + As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward- + In celebration of this day with shows, + Pageants, and sights of honour. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Never greater, + Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. May I be bold to ask what that contains, + That paper in your hand? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes; 'tis the list + Of those that claim their offices this day, + By custom of the coronation. + The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims + To be High Steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk, + He to be Earl Marshal. You may read the rest. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I thank you, sir; had I not known + those customs, + I should have been beholding to your paper. + But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine, + The Princess Dowager? How goes her business? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. That I can tell you too. The Archbishop + Of Canterbury, accompanied with other + Learned and reverend fathers of his order, + Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles of + From Ampthill, where the Princess lay; to which + She was often cited by them, but appear'd not. + And, to be short, for not appearance and + The King's late scruple, by the main assent + Of all these learned men, she was divorc'd, + And the late marriage made of none effect; + Since which she was removed to Kimbolton, + Where she remains now sick. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Alas, good lady! [Trumpets] + The trumpets sound. Stand close, the Queen is coming. +[Hautboys] + + THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION. + + 1. A lively flourish of trumpets. + 2. Then two JUDGES. + 3. LORD CHANCELLOR, with purse and mace before him. + 4. CHORISTERS singing. [Music] + 5. MAYOR OF LONDON, bearing the mace. Then GARTER, in + his coat of arms, and on his head he wore a gilt copper + crown. + 6. MARQUIS DORSET, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head a + demi-coronal of gold. With him, the EARL OF SURREY, + bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an + earl's coronet. Collars of Esses. + 7. DUKE OF SUFFOLK, in his robe of estate, his coronet on + his head, bearing a long white wand, as High Steward. + With him, the DUKE OF NORFOLK, with the rod of + marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars of Esses. + 8. A canopy borne by four of the CINQUE-PORTS; under it + the QUEEN in her robe; in her hair richly adorned with + pearl, crowned. On each side her, the BISHOPS OF LONDON + and WINCHESTER. + 9. The old DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, in a coronal of gold + wrought with flowers, bearing the QUEEN'S train. + 10. Certain LADIES or COUNTESSES, with plain circlets of gold + without flowers. + + Exeunt, first passing over the stage in order and state, + and then a great flourish of trumpets + + SECOND GENTLEMAN. A royal train, believe me. These know. + Who's that that bears the sceptre? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Marquis Dorset; + And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. A bold brave gentleman. That should be + The Duke of Suffolk? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. 'Tis the same-High Steward. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. And that my Lord of Norfolk? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. [Looking on the QUEEN] Heaven + bless thee! + Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. + Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel; + Our king has all the Indies in his arms, + And more and richer, when he strains that lady; + I cannot blame his conscience. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. They that bear + The cloth of honour over her are four barons + Of the Cinque-ports. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Those men are happy; and so are all + are near her. + I take it she that carries up the train + Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. It is; and all the rest are countesses. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed, + And sometimes falling ones. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. No more of that. + Exit Procession, with a great flourish of trumpets + + Enter a third GENTLEMAN + + God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. Among the crowds i' th' Abbey, where a finger + Could not be wedg'd in more; I am stifled + With the mere rankness of their joy. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. You saw + The ceremony? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. That I did. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. How was it? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. Well worth the seeing. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Good sir, speak it to us. + THIRD GENTLEMAN. As well as I am able. The rich stream + Of lords and ladies, having brought the Queen + To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell of + A distance from her, while her Grace sat down + To rest awhile, some half an hour or so, + In a rich chair of state, opposing freely + The beauty of her person to the people. + Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman + That ever lay by man; which when the people + Had the full view of, such a noise arose + As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, + As loud, and to as many tunes; hats, cloaks- + Doublets, I think-flew up, and had their faces + Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy + I never saw before. Great-bellied women, + That had not half a week to go, like rams + In the old time of war, would shake the press, + And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living + Could say 'This is my wife' there, all were woven + So strangely in one piece. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. But what follow'd? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. At length her Grace rose, and with + modest paces + Came to the altar, where she kneel'd, and saintlike + Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly. + Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people; + When by the Archbishop of Canterbury + She had all the royal makings of a queen: + As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown, + The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems + Laid nobly on her; which perform'd, the choir, + With all the choicest music of the kingdom, + Together sung 'Te Deum.' So she parted, + And with the same full state pac'd back again + To York Place, where the feast is held. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Sir, + You must no more call it York Place: that's past: + For since the Cardinal fell that title's lost. + 'Tis now the King's, and called Whitehall. + THIRD GENTLEMAN. I know it; + But 'tis so lately alter'd that the old name + Is fresh about me. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. What two reverend bishops + Were those that went on each side of the Queen? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. Stokesly and Gardiner: the one of Winchester, + Newly preferr'd from the King's secretary; + The other, London. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. He of Winchester + Is held no great good lover of the Archbishop's, + The virtuous Cranmer. + THIRD GENTLEMAN. All the land knows that; + However, yet there is no great breach. When it comes, + Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Who may that be, I pray you? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. Thomas Cromwell, + A man in much esteem with th' King, and truly + A worthy friend. The King has made him Master + O' th' jewel House, + And one, already, of the Privy Council. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. He will deserve more. + THIRD GENTLEMAN. Yes, without all doubt. + Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which + Is to th' court, and there ye shall be my guests: + Something I can command. As I walk thither, + I'll tell ye more. + BOTH. You may command us, sir. Exeunt + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 2. + +Kimbolton + +Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH, her Gentleman Usher, +and PATIENCE, her woman + + GRIFFITH. How does your Grace? + KATHARINE. O Griffith, sick to death! + My legs like loaden branches bow to th' earth, + Willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair. + So-now, methinks, I feel a little ease. + Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, + That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, + Was dead? + GRIFFITH. Yes, madam; but I think your Grace, + Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't. + KATHARINE. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died. + If well, he stepp'd before me, happily, + For my example. + GRIFFITH. Well, the voice goes, madam; + For after the stout Earl Northumberland + Arrested him at York and brought him forward, + As a man sorely tainted, to his answer, + He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill + He could not sit his mule. + KATHARINE. Alas, poor man! + GRIFFITH. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, + Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, + With all his covent, honourably receiv'd him; + To whom he gave these words: 'O father Abbot, + An old man, broken with the storms of state, + Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; + Give him a little earth for charity!' + So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness + Pursu'd him still And three nights after this, + About the hour of eight-which he himself + Foretold should be his last-full of repentance, + Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, + He gave his honours to the world again, + His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. + KATHARINE. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! + Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, + And yet with charity. He was a man + Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking + Himself with princes; one that, by suggestion, + Tied all the kingdom. Simony was fair play; + His own opinion was his law. I' th' presence + He would say untruths, and be ever double + Both in his words and meaning. He was never, + But where he meant to ruin, pitiful. + His promises were, as he then was, mighty; + But his performance, as he is now, nothing. + Of his own body he was ill, and gave + The clergy ill example. + GRIFFITH. Noble madam, + Men's evil manners live in brass: their virtues + We write in water. May it please your Highness + To hear me speak his good now? + KATHARINE. Yes, good Griffith; + I were malicious else. + GRIFFITH. This Cardinal, + Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly + Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle. + He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; + Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; + Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not, + But to those men that sought him sweet as summer. + And though he were unsatisfied in getting- + Which was a sin-yet in bestowing, madam, + He was most princely: ever witness for him + Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you, + Ipswich and Oxford! One of which fell with him, + Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; + The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, + So excellent in art, and still so rising, + That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. + His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; + For then, and not till then, he felt himself, + And found the blessedness of being little. + And, to add greater honours to his age + Than man could give him, he died fearing God. + KATHARINE. After my death I wish no other herald, + No other speaker of my living actions, + To keep mine honour from corruption, + But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. + Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, + With thy religious truth and modesty, + Now in his ashes honour. Peace be with him! + patience, be near me still, and set me lower: + I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith, + Cause the musicians play me that sad note + I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating + On that celestial harmony I go to. + [Sad and solemn music] + GRIFFITH. She is asleep. Good wench, let's sit down quiet, + For fear we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience. + + THE VISION. + + Enter, solemnly tripping one after another, six + PERSONAGES clad in white robes, wearing on their + heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards on their + faces; branches of bays or palm in their hands. They + first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain + changes, the first two hold a spare garland over her + head, at which the other four make reverent curtsies. + Then the two that held the garland deliver the + same to the other next two, who observe the same + order in their changes, and holding the garland over + her head; which done, they deliver the same garland + to the last two, who likewise observe the same order; + at which, as it were by inspiration, she makes + in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her + hands to heaven. And so in their dancing vanish, + carrying the garland with them. The music continues + + KATHARINE. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone? + And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? + GRIFFITH. Madam, we are here. + KATHARINE. It is not you I call for. + Saw ye none enter since I slept? + GRIFFITH. None, madam. + KATHARINE. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop + Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces + Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun? + They promis'd me eternal happiness, + And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel + I am not worthy yet to wear. I shall, assuredly. + GRIFFITH. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams + Possess your fancy. + KATHARINE. Bid the music leave, + They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceases] + PATIENCE. Do you note + How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden? + How long her face is drawn! How pale she looks, + And of an earthly cold! Mark her eyes. + GRIFFITH. She is going, wench. Pray, pray. + PATIENCE. Heaven comfort her! + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. An't like your Grace- + KATHARINE. You are a saucy fellow. + Deserve we no more reverence? + GRIFFITH. You are to blame, + Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness, + To use so rude behaviour. Go to, kneel. + MESSENGER. I humbly do entreat your Highness' pardon; + My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying + A gentleman, sent from the King, to see you. + KATHARINE. Admit him entrance, Griffith; but this fellow + Let me ne'er see again. Exit MESSENGER + + Enter LORD CAPUCIUS + + If my sight fail not, + You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, + My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. + CAPUCIUS. Madam, the same-your servant. + KATHARINE. O, my Lord, + The times and titles now are alter'd strangely + With me since first you knew me. But, I pray you, + What is your pleasure with me? + CAPUCIUS. Noble lady, + First, mine own service to your Grace; the next, + The King's request that I would visit you, + Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me + Sends you his princely commendations + And heartily entreats you take good comfort. + KATHARINE. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late, + 'Tis like a pardon after execution: + That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me; + But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers. + How does his Highness? + CAPUCIUS. Madam, in good health. + KATHARINE. So may he ever do! and ever flourish + When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name + Banish'd the kingdom! Patience, is that letter + I caus'd you write yet sent away? + PATIENCE. No, madam. [Giving it to KATHARINE] + KATHARINE. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver + This to my lord the King. + CAPUCIUS. Most willing, madam. + KATHARINE. In which I have commended to his goodness + The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter- + The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!- + Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding- + She is young, and of a noble modest nature; + I hope she will deserve well-and a little + To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him, + Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition + Is that his noble Grace would have some pity + Upon my wretched women that so long + Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully; + Of which there is not one, I dare avow- + And now I should not lie-but will deserve, + For virtue and true beauty of the soul, + For honesty and decent carriage, + A right good husband, let him be a noble; + And sure those men are happy that shall have 'em. + The last is for my men-they are the poorest, + But poverty could never draw 'em from me- + That they may have their wages duly paid 'em, + And something over to remember me by. + If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life + And able means, we had not parted thus. + These are the whole contents; and, good my lord, + By that you love the dearest in this world, + As you wish Christian peace to souls departed, + Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the King + To do me this last right. + CAPUCIUS. By heaven, I will, + Or let me lose the fashion of a man! + KATHARINE. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me + In all humility unto his Highness; + Say his long trouble now is passing + Out of this world. Tell him in death I bless'd him, + For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell, + My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience, + You must not leave me yet. I must to bed; + Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench, + Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over + With maiden flowers, that all the world may know + I was a chaste wife to my grave. Embalm me, + Then lay me forth; although unqueen'd, yet like + A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. + I can no more. Exeunt, leading KATHARINE + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1. + +London. A gallery in the palace + +Enter GARDINER, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, a PAGE with a torch before him, +met by SIR THOMAS LOVELL + + GARDINER. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not? + BOY. It hath struck. + GARDINER. These should be hours for necessities, + Not for delights; times to repair our nature + With comforting repose, and not for us + To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas! + Whither so late? + LOVELL. Came you from the King, my lord? + GARDINER. I did, Sir Thomas, and left him at primero + With the Duke of Suffolk. + LOVELL. I must to him too, + Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. + GARDINER. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter? + It seems you are in haste. An if there be + No great offence belongs to't, give your friend + Some touch of your late business. Affairs that walk- + As they say spirits do-at midnight, have + In them a wilder nature than the business + That seeks despatch by day. + LOVELL. My lord, I love you; + And durst commend a secret to your ear + Much weightier than this work. The Queen's in labour, + They say in great extremity, and fear'd + She'll with the labour end. + GARDINER. The fruit she goes with + I pray for heartily, that it may find + Good time, and live; but for the stock, Sir Thomas, + I wish it grubb'd up now. + LOVELL. Methinks I could + Cry thee amen; and yet my conscience says + She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does + Deserve our better wishes. + GARDINER. But, sir, sir- + Hear me, Sir Thomas. Y'are a gentleman + Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious; + And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well- + 'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me- + Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, + Sleep in their graves. + LOVELL. Now, sir, you speak of two + The most remark'd i' th' kingdom. As for Cromwell, + Beside that of the Jewel House, is made Master + O' th' Rolls, and the King's secretary; further, sir, + Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments, + With which the time will load him. Th' Archbishop + Is the King's hand and tongue, and who dare speak + One syllable against him? + GARDINER. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, + There are that dare; and I myself have ventur'd + To speak my mind of him; and indeed this day, + Sir-I may tell it you-I think I have + Incens'd the lords o' th' Council, that he is- + For so I know he is, they know he is- + A most arch heretic, a pestilence + That does infect the land; with which they moved + Have broken with the King, who hath so far + Given ear to our complaint-of his great grace + And princely care, foreseeing those fell mischiefs + Our reasons laid before him-hath commanded + To-morrow morning to the Council board + He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas, + And we must root him out. From your affairs + I hinder you too long-good night, Sir Thomas. + LOVELL. Many good nights, my lord; I rest your servant. + Exeunt GARDINER and PAGE + + Enter the KING and the DUKE OF SUFFOLK + + KING. Charles, I will play no more to-night; + My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me. + SUFFOLK. Sir, I did never win of you before. + KING. But little, Charles; + Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play. + Now, Lovell, from the Queen what is the news? + LOVELL. I could not personally deliver to her + What you commanded me, but by her woman + I sent your message; who return'd her thanks + In the great'st humbleness, and desir'd your Highness + Most heartily to pray for her. + KING. What say'st thou, ha? + To pray for her? What, is she crying out? + LOVELL. So said her woman; and that her suff'rance made + Almost each pang a death. + KING. Alas, good lady! + SUFFOLK. God safely quit her of her burden, and + With gentle travail, to the gladding of + Your Highness with an heir! + KING. 'Tis midnight, Charles; + Prithee to bed; and in thy pray'rs remember + Th' estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone, + For I must think of that which company + Will not be friendly to. + SUFFOLK. I wish your Highness + A quiet night, and my good mistress will + Remember in my prayers. + KING. Charles, good night. Exit SUFFOLK + + Enter SIR ANTHONY DENNY + + Well, sir, what follows? + DENNY. Sir, I have brought my lord the Archbishop, + As you commanded me. + KING. Ha! Canterbury? + DENNY. Ay, my good lord. + KING. 'Tis true. Where is he, Denny? + DENNY. He attends your Highness' pleasure. + KING. Bring him to us. Exit DENNY + LOVELL. [Aside] This is about that which the bishop spake. + I am happily come hither. + + Re-enter DENNY, With CRANMER + + KING. Avoid the gallery. [LOVELL seems to stay] + Ha! I have said. Be gone. + What! Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY + CRANMER. [Aside] I am fearful-wherefore frowns he thus? + 'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well. + KING. How now, my lord? You do desire to know + Wherefore I sent for you. + CRANMER. [Kneeling] It is my duty + T'attend your Highness' pleasure. + KING. Pray you, arise, + My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury. + Come, you and I must walk a turn together; + I have news to tell you; come, come, me your hand. + Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, + And am right sorry to repeat what follows. + I have, and most unwillingly, of late + Heard many grievous-I do say, my lord, + Grievous-complaints of you; which, being consider'd, + Have mov'd us and our Council that you shall + This morning come before us; where I know + You cannot with such freedom purge yourself + But that, till further trial in those charges + Which will require your answer, you must take + Your patience to you and be well contented + To make your house our Tow'r. You a brother of us, + It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness + Would come against you. + CRANMER. I humbly thank your Highness + And am right glad to catch this good occasion + Most throughly to be winnowed where my chaff + And corn shall fly asunder; for I know + There's none stands under more calumnious tongues + Than I myself, poor man. + KING. Stand up, good Canterbury; + Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted + In us, thy friend. Give me thy hand, stand up; + Prithee let's walk. Now, by my holidame, + What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd + You would have given me your petition that + I should have ta'en some pains to bring together + Yourself and your accusers, and to have heard you + Without indurance further. + CRANMER. Most dread liege, + The good I stand on is my truth and honesty; + If they shall fail, I with mine enemies + Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not, + Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing + What can be said against me. + KING. Know you not + How your state stands i' th' world, with the whole world? + Your enemies are many, and not small; their practices + Must bear the same proportion; and not ever + The justice and the truth o' th' question carries + The due o' th' verdict with it; at what ease + Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt + To swear against you? Such things have been done. + You are potently oppos'd, and with a malice + Of as great size. Ween you of better luck, + I mean in perjur'd witness, than your Master, + Whose minister you are, whiles here He liv'd + Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to; + You take a precipice for no leap of danger, + And woo your own destruction. + CRANMER. God and your Majesty + Protect mine innocence, or I fall into + The trap is laid for me! + KING. Be of good cheer; + They shall no more prevail than we give way to. + Keep comfort to you, and this morning see + You do appear before them; if they shall chance, + In charging you with matters, to commit you, + The best persuasions to the contrary + Fail not to use, and with what vehemency + Th' occasion shall instruct you. If entreaties + Will render you no remedy, this ring + Deliver them, and your appeal to us + There make before them. Look, the good man weeps! + He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest Mother! + I swear he is true-hearted, and a soul + None better in my kingdom. Get you gone, + And do as I have bid you. + Exit CRANMER + He has strangled his language in his tears. + + Enter OLD LADY + + GENTLEMAN. [Within] Come back; what mean you? + OLD LADY. I'll not come back; the tidings that I bring + Will make my boldness manners. Now, good angels + Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person + Under their blessed wings! + KING. Now, by thy looks + I guess thy message. Is the Queen deliver'd? + Say ay, and of a boy. + OLD LADY. Ay, ay, my liege; + And of a lovely boy. The God of Heaven + Both now and ever bless her! 'Tis a girl, + Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen + Desires your visitation, and to be + Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you + As cherry is to cherry. + KING. Lovell! + + Enter LOVELL + + LOVELL. Sir? + KING. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the Queen. Exit + OLD LADY. An hundred marks? By this light, I'll ha' more! + An ordinary groom is for such payment. + I will have more, or scold it out of him. + Said I for this the girl was like to him! I'll + Have more, or else unsay't; and now, while 'tis hot, + I'll put it to the issue. Exeunt + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 2. + +Lobby before the Council Chamber + +Enter CRANMER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY + + CRANMER. I hope I am not too late; and yet the gentleman + That was sent to me from the Council pray'd me + To make great haste. All fast? What means this? Ho! + Who waits there? Sure you know me? + + Enter KEEPER + + KEEPER. Yes, my lord; + But yet I cannot help you. + CRANMER. Why? + KEEPER. Your Grace must wait till you be call'd for. + + Enter DOCTOR BUTTS + + CRANMER. So. + BUTTS. [Aside] This is a piece of malice. I am glad + I came this way so happily; the King + Shall understand it presently. Exit + CRANMER. [Aside] 'Tis Butts, + The King's physician; as he pass'd along, + How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me! + Pray heaven he sound not my disgrace! For certain, + This is of purpose laid by some that hate me- + God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice- + To quench mine honour; they would shame to make me + Wait else at door, a fellow councillor, + 'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures + Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. + + Enter the KING and BUTTS at window above + + BUTTS. I'll show your Grace the strangest sight- + KING. What's that, Butts? + BUTTS. I think your Highness saw this many a day. + KING. Body a me, where is it? + BUTTS. There my lord: + The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury; + Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, + Pages, and footboys. + KING. Ha, 'tis he indeed. + Is this the honour they do one another? + 'Tis well there's one above 'em yet. I had thought + They had parted so much honesty among 'em- + At least good manners-as not thus to suffer + A man of his place, and so near our favour, + To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures, + And at the door too, like a post with packets. + By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery! + Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close; + We shall hear more anon. Exeunt + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 3. + +The Council Chamber + +A Council table brought in, with chairs and stools, and placed +under the state. Enter LORD CHANCELLOR, places himself at the upper end +of the table on the left band, a seat being left void above him, +as for Canterbury's seat. DUKE OF SUFFOLK, DUKE OF NORFOLK, SURREY, +LORD CHAMBERLAIN, GARDINER, seat themselves in order on each side; +CROMWELL at lower end, as secretary. KEEPER at the door + + CHANCELLOR. Speak to the business, master secretary; + Why are we met in council? + CROMWELL. Please your honours, + The chief cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury. + GARDINER. Has he had knowledge of it? + CROMWELL. Yes. + NORFOLK. Who waits there? + KEEPER. Without, my noble lords? + GARDINER. Yes. + KEEPER. My Lord Archbishop; + And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. + CHANCELLOR. Let him come in. + KEEPER. Your Grace may enter now. + + CRANMER approaches the Council table + + CHANCELLOR. My good Lord Archbishop, I am very sorry + To sit here at this present, and behold + That chair stand empty; but we all are men, + In our own natures frail and capable + Of our flesh; few are angels; out of which frailty + And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us, + Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little, + Toward the King first, then his laws, in filling + The whole realm by your teaching and your chaplains- + For so we are inform'd-with new opinions, + Divers and dangerous; which are heresies, + And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious. + GARDINER. Which reformation must be sudden too, + My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses + Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle, + But stop their mouth with stubborn bits and spur 'em + Till they obey the manage. If we suffer, + Out of our easiness and childish pity + To one man's honour, this contagious sickness, + Farewell all physic; and what follows then? + Commotions, uproars, with a general taint + Of the whole state; as of late days our neighbours, + The upper Germany, can dearly witness, + Yet freshly pitied in our memories. + CRANMER. My good lords, hitherto in all the progress + Both of my life and office, I have labour'd, + And with no little study, that my teaching + And the strong course of my authority + Might go one way, and safely; and the end + Was ever to do well. Nor is there living- + I speak it with a single heart, my lords- + A man that more detests, more stirs against, + Both in his private conscience and his place, + Defacers of a public peace than I do. + Pray heaven the King may never find a heart + With less allegiance in it! Men that make + Envy and crooked malice nourishment + Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships + That, in this case of justice, my accusers, + Be what they will, may stand forth face to face + And freely urge against me. + SUFFOLK. Nay, my lord, + That cannot be; you are a councillor, + And by that virtue no man dare accuse you. + GARDINER. My lord, because we have business of more moment, + We will be short with you. 'Tis his Highness' pleasure + And our consent, for better trial of you, + From hence you be committed to the Tower; + Where, being but a private man again, + You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, + More than, I fear, you are provided for. + CRANMER. Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you; + You are always my good friend; if your will pass, + I shall both find your lordship judge and juror, + You are so merciful. I see your end- + 'Tis my undoing. Love and meekness, lord, + Become a churchman better than ambition; + Win straying souls with modesty again, + Cast none away. That I shall clear myself, + Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience, + I make as little doubt as you do conscience + In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, + But reverence to your calling makes me modest. + GARDINER. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary; + That's the plain truth. Your painted gloss discovers, + To men that understand you, words and weakness. + CROMWELL. My Lord of Winchester, y'are a little, + By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble, + However faulty, yet should find respect + For what they have been; 'tis a cruelty + To load a falling man. + GARDINER. Good Master Secretary, + I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst + Of all this table, say so. + CROMWELL. Why, my lord? + GARDINER. Do not I know you for a favourer + Of this new sect? Ye are not sound. + CROMWELL. Not sound? + GARDINER. Not sound, I say. + CROMWELL. Would you were half so honest! + Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. + GARDINER. I shall remember this bold language. + CROMWELL. Do. + Remember your bold life too. + CHANCELLOR. This is too much; + Forbear, for shame, my lords. + GARDINER. I have done. + CROMWELL. And I. + CHANCELLOR. Then thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed, + I take it, by all voices, that forthwith + You be convey'd to th' Tower a prisoner; + There to remain till the King's further pleasure + Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords? + ALL. We are. + CRANMER. Is there no other way of mercy, + But I must needs to th' Tower, my lords? + GARDINER. What other + Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome. + Let some o' th' guard be ready there. + + Enter the guard + + CRANMER. For me? + Must I go like a traitor thither? + GARDINER. Receive him, + And see him safe i' th' Tower. + CRANMER. Stay, good my lords, + I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords; + By virtue of that ring I take my cause + Out of the gripes of cruel men and give it + To a most noble judge, the King my master. + CHAMBERLAIN. This is the King's ring. + SURREY. 'Tis no counterfeit. + SUFFOLK. 'Tis the right ring, by heav'n. I told ye all, + When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling, + 'Twould fall upon ourselves. + NORFOLK. Do you think, my lords, + The King will suffer but the little finger + Of this man to be vex'd? + CHAMBERLAIN. 'Tis now too certain; + How much more is his life in value with him! + Would I were fairly out on't! + CROMWELL. My mind gave me, + In seeking tales and informations + Against this man-whose honesty the devil + And his disciples only envy at- + Ye blew the fire that burns ye. Now have at ye! + + Enter the KING frowning on them; he takes his seat + + GARDINER. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven + In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; + Not only good and wise but most religious; + One that in all obedience makes the church + The chief aim of his honour and, to strengthen + That holy duty, out of dear respect, + His royal self in judgment comes to hear + The cause betwixt her and this great offender. + KING. You were ever good at sudden commendations, + Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not + To hear such flattery now, and in my presence + They are too thin and bare to hide offences. + To me you cannot reach you play the spaniel, + And think with wagging of your tongue to win me; + But whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I'm sure + Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody. + [To CRANMER] Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest + He that dares most but wag his finger at thee. + By all that's holy, he had better starve + Than but once think this place becomes thee not. + SURREY. May it please your Grace- + KING. No, sir, it does not please me. + I had thought I had had men of some understanding + And wisdom of my Council; but I find none. + Was it discretion, lords, to let this man, + This good man-few of you deserve that title- + This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy + At chamber door? and one as great as you are? + Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission + Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye + Power as he was a councillor to try him, + Not as a groom. There's some of ye, I see, + More out of malice than integrity, + Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean; + Which ye shall never have while I live. + CHANCELLOR. Thus far, + My most dread sovereign, may it like your Grace + To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd + concerning his imprisonment was rather- + If there be faith in men-meant for his trial + And fair purgation to the world, than malice, + I'm sure, in me. + KING. Well, well, my lords, respect him; + Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it. + I will say thus much for him: if a prince + May be beholding to a subject, + Am for his love and service so to him. + Make me no more ado, but all embrace him; + Be friends, for shame, my lords! My Lord of Canterbury, + I have a suit which you must not deny me: + That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism; + You must be godfather, and answer for her. + CRANMER. The greatest monarch now alive may glory + In such an honour; how may I deserve it, + That am a poor and humble subject to you? + KING. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons. You + shall have + Two noble partners with you: the old Duchess of Norfolk + And Lady Marquis Dorset. Will these please you? + Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you, + Embrace and love this man. + GARDINER. With a true heart + And brother-love I do it. + CRANMER. And let heaven + Witness how dear I hold this confirmation. + KING. Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart. + The common voice, I see, is verified + Of thee, which says thus: 'Do my Lord of Canterbury + A shrewd turn and he's your friend for ever.' + Come, lords, we trifle time away; I long + To have this young one made a Christian. + As I have made ye one, lords, one remain; + So I grow stronger, you more honour gain. Exeunt + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 4. + +The palace yard + +Noise and tumult within. Enter PORTER and his MAN + + PORTER. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals. Do you + take the court for Paris garden? Ye rude slaves, leave your + gaping. + [Within: Good master porter, I belong to th' larder.] + PORTER. Belong to th' gallows, and be hang'd, ye rogue! Is + this a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, + and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em. I'll scratch + your heads. You must be seeing christenings? Do you look + for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals? + MAN. Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much impossible, + Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons, + To scatter 'em as 'tis to make 'em sleep + On May-day morning; which will never be. + We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em. + PORTER. How got they in, and be hang'd? + MAN. Alas, I know not: how gets the tide in? + As much as one sound cudgel of four foot- + You see the poor remainder-could distribute, + I made no spare, sir. + PORTER. You did nothing, sir. + MAN. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand, + To mow 'em down before me; but if I spar'd any + That had a head to hit, either young or old, + He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, + Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again; + And that I would not for a cow, God save her! + [ Within: Do you hear, master porter?] + PORTER. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy. + Keep the door close, sirrah. + MAN. What would you have me do? + PORTER. What should you do, but knock 'em down by th' + dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? Or have we some + strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the + women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication + is at door! On my Christian conscience, this one christening + will beget a thousand: here will be father, godfather, + and all together. + MAN. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow + somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his + face, for, o' my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now + reign in's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, + they need no other penance. That fire-drake did I hit three + times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged + against me; he stands there like a mortar-piece, to blow us. + There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that + rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, + for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the + meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out 'Clubs!' + when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw + to her succour, which were the hope o' th' Strand, where + she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place. + At length they came to th' broomstaff to me; I defied 'em + still; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot, + deliver'd such a show'r of pebbles that I was fain to draw + mine honour in and let 'em win the work: the devil was + amongst 'em, I think surely. + PORTER. These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse + and fight for bitten apples; that no audience but the tribulation + of Tower-hill or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear + brothers, are able to endure. I have some of 'em in Limbo + Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; + besides the running banquet of two beadles that is to come. + + Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN + + CHAMBERLAIN. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here! + They grow still too; from all parts they are coming, + As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, + These lazy knaves? Y'have made a fine hand, fellows. + There's a trim rabble let in: are all these + Your faithful friends o' th' suburbs? We shall have + Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, + When they pass back from the christening. + PORTER. An't please your honour, + We are but men; and what so many may do, + Not being torn a pieces, we have done. + An army cannot rule 'em. + CHAMBERLAIN. As I live, + If the King blame me for't, I'll lay ye an + By th' heels, and suddenly; and on your heads + Clap round fines for neglect. Y'are lazy knaves; + And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when + Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound; + Th' are come already from the christening. + Go break among the press and find a way out + To let the troops pass fairly, or I'll find + A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months. + PORTER. Make way there for the Princess. + MAN. You great fellow, + Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache. + PORTER. You i' th' camlet, get up o' th' rail; + I'll peck you o'er the pales else. Exeunt + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 5. + +The palace + +Enter TRUMPETS, sounding; then two ALDERMEN, LORD MAYOR, GARTER, CRANMER, +DUKE OF NORFOLK, with his marshal's staff, DUKE OF SUFFOLK, +two Noblemen bearing great standing-bowls for the christening gifts; +then four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, +godmother, bearing the CHILD richly habited in a mantle, etc., +train borne by a LADY; then follows the MARCHIONESS DORSET, +the other godmother, and LADIES. The troop pass once about the stage, +and GARTER speaks + + GARTER. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous + life, long and ever-happy, to the high and mighty + Princess of England, Elizabeth! + + Flourish. Enter KING and guard + + CRANMER. [Kneeling] And to your royal Grace and the + good Queen! + My noble partners and myself thus pray: + All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, + Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy, + May hourly fall upon ye! + KING. Thank you, good Lord Archbishop. + What is her name? + CRANMER. Elizabeth. + KING. Stand up, lord. [The KING kisses the child] + With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! + Into whose hand I give thy life. + CRANMER. Amen. + KING. My noble gossips, y'have been too prodigal; + I thank ye heartily. So shall this lady, + When she has so much English. + CRANMER. Let me speak, sir, + For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter + Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth. + This royal infant-heaven still move about her!- + Though in her cradle, yet now promises + Upon this land a thousand blessings, + Which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be- + But few now living can behold that goodness- + A pattern to all princes living with her, + And all that shall succeed. Saba was never + More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue + Than this pure soul shall be. All princely graces + That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, + With all the virtues that attend the good, + Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her, + Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her; + She shall be lov'd and fear'd. Her own shall bless her: + Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, + And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her; + In her days every man shall eat in safety + Under his own vine what he plants, and sing + The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours. + God shall be truly known; and those about her + From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, + And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. + Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when + The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix + Her ashes new create another heir + As great in admiration as herself, + So shall she leave her blessedness to one- + When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness- + Who from the sacred ashes of her honour + Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, + And so stand fix'd. Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, + That were the servants to this chosen infant, + Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; + Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, + His honour and the greatness of his name + Shall be, and make new nations; he shall flourish, + And like a mountain cedar reach his branches + To all the plains about him; our children's children + Shall see this and bless heaven. + KING. Thou speakest wonders. + CRANMER. She shall be, to the happiness of England, + An aged princess; many days shall see her, + And yet no day without a deed to crown it. + Would I had known no more! But she must die- + She must, the saints must have her-yet a virgin; + A most unspotted lily shall she pass + To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her. + KING. O Lord Archbishop, + Thou hast made me now a man; never before + This happy child did I get anything. + This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me + That when I am in heaven I shall desire + To see what this child does, and praise my Maker. + I thank ye all. To you, my good Lord Mayor, + And you, good brethren, I am much beholding; + I have receiv'd much honour by your presence, + And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords; + Ye must all see the Queen, and she must thank ye, + She will be sick else. This day, no man think + Has business at his house; for all shall stay. + This little one shall make it holiday. Exeunt + +KING_HENRY_VIII|EPILOGUE + THE EPILOGUE. + + 'Tis ten to one this play can never please + All that are here. Some come to take their ease + And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear, + W'have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear, + They'll say 'tis nought; others to hear the city + Abus'd extremely, and to cry 'That's witty!' + Which we have not done neither; that, I fear, + All the expected good w'are like to hear + For this play at this time is only in + The merciful construction of good women; + For such a one we show'd 'em. If they smile + And say 'twill do, I know within a while + All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap + If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap. + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1597 + +KING JOHN + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + KING JOHN + PRINCE HENRY, his son + ARTHUR, DUKE OF BRITAINE, son of Geffrey, late Duke of + Britaine, the elder brother of King John + EARL OF PEMBROKE + EARL OF ESSEX + EARL OF SALISBURY + LORD BIGOT + HUBERT DE BURGH + ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE, son to Sir Robert Faulconbridge + PHILIP THE BASTARD, his half-brother + JAMES GURNEY, servant to Lady Faulconbridge + PETER OF POMFRET, a prophet + + KING PHILIP OF FRANCE + LEWIS, the Dauphin + LYMOGES, Duke of Austria + CARDINAL PANDULPH, the Pope's legate + MELUN, a French lord + CHATILLON, ambassador from France to King John + + QUEEN ELINOR, widow of King Henry II and mother to + King John + CONSTANCE, Mother to Arthur + BLANCH OF SPAIN, daughter to the King of Castile + and niece to King John + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE, widow of Sir Robert Faulconbridge + + Lords, Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, Heralds, Officers, + Soldiers, Executioners, Messengers, Attendants + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +England and France + + + +ACT I. SCENE 1 + +KING JOHN's palace + +Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, SALISBURY, and others, +with CHATILLON + + KING JOHN. Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us? + CHATILLON. Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France + In my behaviour to the majesty, + The borrowed majesty, of England here. + ELINOR. A strange beginning- 'borrowed majesty'! + KING JOHN. Silence, good mother; hear the embassy. + CHATILLON. Philip of France, in right and true behalf + Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, + Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim + To this fair island and the territories, + To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, + Desiring thee to lay aside the sword + Which sways usurpingly these several titles, + And put the same into young Arthur's hand, + Thy nephew and right royal sovereign. + KING JOHN. What follows if we disallow of this? + CHATILLON. The proud control of fierce and bloody war, + To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. + KING JOHN. Here have we war for war, and blood for blood, + Controlment for controlment- so answer France. + CHATILLON. Then take my king's defiance from my mouth- + The farthest limit of my embassy. + KING JOHN. Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace; + Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; + For ere thou canst report I will be there, + The thunder of my cannon shall be heard. + So hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath + And sullen presage of your own decay. + An honourable conduct let him have- + Pembroke, look to 't. Farewell, Chatillon. + Exeunt CHATILLON and PEMBROKE + ELINOR. What now, my son! Have I not ever said + How that ambitious Constance would not cease + Till she had kindled France and all the world + Upon the right and party of her son? + This might have been prevented and made whole + With very easy arguments of love, + Which now the manage of two kingdoms must + With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. + KING JOHN. Our strong possession and our right for us! + ELINOR. Your strong possession much more than your right, + Or else it must go wrong with you and me; + So much my conscience whispers in your ear, + Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear. + + Enter a SHERIFF + + ESSEX. My liege, here is the strangest controversy + Come from the country to be judg'd by you + That e'er I heard. Shall I produce the men? + KING JOHN. Let them approach. Exit SHERIFF + Our abbeys and our priories shall pay + This expedition's charge. + + Enter ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE and PHILIP, his bastard + brother + + What men are you? + BASTARD. Your faithful subject I, a gentleman + Born in Northamptonshire, and eldest son, + As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge- + A soldier by the honour-giving hand + Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field. + KING JOHN. What art thou? + ROBERT. The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge. + KING JOHN. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir? + You came not of one mother then, it seems. + BASTARD. Most certain of one mother, mighty king- + That is well known- and, as I think, one father; + But for the certain knowledge of that truth + I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother. + Of that I doubt, as all men's children may. + ELINOR. Out on thee, rude man! Thou dost shame thy mother, + And wound her honour with this diffidence. + BASTARD. I, madam? No, I have no reason for it- + That is my brother's plea, and none of mine; + The which if he can prove, 'a pops me out + At least from fair five hundred pound a year. + Heaven guard my mother's honour and my land! + KING JOHN. A good blunt fellow. Why, being younger born, + Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance? + BASTARD. I know not why, except to get the land. + But once he slander'd me with bastardy; + But whe'er I be as true begot or no, + That still I lay upon my mother's head; + But that I am as well begot, my liege- + Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!- + Compare our faces and be judge yourself. + If old Sir Robert did beget us both + And were our father, and this son like him- + O old Sir Robert, father, on my knee + I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee! + KING JOHN. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here! + ELINOR. He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion's face; + The accent of his tongue affecteth him. + Do you not read some tokens of my son + In the large composition of this man? + KING JOHN. Mine eye hath well examined his parts + And finds them perfect Richard. Sirrah, speak, + What doth move you to claim your brother's land? + BASTARD. Because he hath a half-face, like my father. + With half that face would he have all my land: + A half-fac'd groat five hundred pound a year! + ROBERT. My gracious liege, when that my father liv'd, + Your brother did employ my father much- + BASTARD. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land: + Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother. + ROBERT. And once dispatch'd him in an embassy + To Germany, there with the Emperor + To treat of high affairs touching that time. + Th' advantage of his absence took the King, + And in the meantime sojourn'd at my father's; + Where how he did prevail I shame to speak- + But truth is truth: large lengths of seas and shores + Between my father and my mother lay, + As I have heard my father speak himself, + When this same lusty gentleman was got. + Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd + His lands to me, and took it on his death + That this my mother's son was none of his; + And if he were, he came into the world + Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. + Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, + My father's land, as was my father's will. + KING JOHN. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate: + Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him, + And if she did play false, the fault was hers; + Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands + That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, + Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, + Had of your father claim'd this son for his? + In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept + This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world; + In sooth, he might; then, if he were my brother's, + My brother might not claim him; nor your father, + Being none of his, refuse him. This concludes: + My mother's son did get your father's heir; + Your father's heir must have your father's land. + ROBERT. Shall then my father's will be of no force + To dispossess that child which is not his? + BASTARD. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, + Than was his will to get me, as I think. + ELINOR. Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge, + And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land, + Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion, + Lord of thy presence and no land beside? + BASTARD. Madam, an if my brother had my shape + And I had his, Sir Robert's his, like him; + And if my legs were two such riding-rods, + My arms such eel-skins stuff'd, my face so thin + That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose + Lest men should say 'Look where three-farthings goes!' + And, to his shape, were heir to all this land- + Would I might never stir from off this place, + I would give it every foot to have this face! + I would not be Sir Nob in any case. + ELINOR. I like thee well. Wilt thou forsake thy fortune, + Bequeath thy land to him and follow me? + I am a soldier and now bound to France. + BASTARD. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my chance. + Your face hath got five hundred pound a year, + Yet sell your face for fivepence and 'tis dear. + Madam, I'll follow you unto the death. + ELINOR. Nay, I would have you go before me thither. + BASTARD. Our country manners give our betters way. + KING JOHN. What is thy name? + BASTARD. Philip, my liege, so is my name begun: + Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son. + KING JOHN. From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bearest: + Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great- + Arise Sir Richard and Plantagenet. + BASTARD. Brother by th' mother's side, give me your hand; + My father gave me honour, yours gave land. + Now blessed be the hour, by night or day, + When I was got, Sir Robert was away! + ELINOR. The very spirit of Plantagenet! + I am thy grandam, Richard: call me so. + BASTARD. Madam, by chance, but not by truth; what though? + Something about, a little from the right, + In at the window, or else o'er the hatch; + Who dares not stir by day must walk by night; + And have is have, however men do catch. + Near or far off, well won is still well shot; + And I am I, howe'er I was begot. + KING JOHN. Go, Faulconbridge; now hast thou thy desire: + A landless knight makes thee a landed squire. + Come, madam, and come, Richard, we must speed + For France, for France, for it is more than need. + BASTARD. Brother, adieu. Good fortune come to thee! + For thou wast got i' th' way of honesty. + Exeunt all but the BASTARD + A foot of honour better than I was; + But many a many foot of land the worse. + Well, now can I make any Joan a lady. + 'Good den, Sir Richard!'-'God-a-mercy, fellow!' + And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; + For new-made honour doth forget men's names: + 'Tis too respective and too sociable + For your conversion. Now your traveller, + He and his toothpick at my worship's mess- + And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd, + Why then I suck my teeth and catechize + My picked man of countries: 'My dear sir,' + Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin + 'I shall beseech you'-That is question now; + And then comes answer like an Absey book: + 'O sir,' says answer 'at your best command, + At your employment, at your service, sir!' + 'No, sir,' says question 'I, sweet sir, at yours.' + And so, ere answer knows what question would, + Saving in dialogue of compliment, + And talking of the Alps and Apennines, + The Pyrenean and the river Po- + It draws toward supper in conclusion so. + But this is worshipful society, + And fits the mounting spirit like myself; + For he is but a bastard to the time + That doth not smack of observation- + And so am I, whether I smack or no; + And not alone in habit and device, + Exterior form, outward accoutrement, + But from the inward motion to deliver + Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth; + Which, though I will not practise to deceive, + Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; + For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising. + But who comes in such haste in riding-robes? + What woman-post is this? Hath she no husband + That will take pains to blow a horn before her? + + Enter LADY FAULCONBRIDGE, and JAMES GURNEY + + O me, 'tis my mother! How now, good lady! + What brings you here to court so hastily? + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. Where is that slave, thy brother? + Where is he + That holds in chase mine honour up and down? + BASTARD. My brother Robert, old Sir Robert's son? + Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man? + Is it Sir Robert's son that you seek so? + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend boy, + Sir Robert's son! Why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert? + He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou. + BASTARD. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile? + GURNEY. Good leave, good Philip. + BASTARD. Philip-Sparrow! James, + There's toys abroad-anon I'll tell thee more. + Exit GURNEY + Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son; + Sir Robert might have eat his part in me + Upon Good Friday, and ne'er broke his fast. + Sir Robert could do: well-marry, to confess- + Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it: + We know his handiwork. Therefore, good mother, + To whom am I beholding for these limbs? + Sir Robert never holp to make this leg. + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, + That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour? + What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave? + BASTARD. Knight, knight, good mother, Basilisco-like. + What! I am dubb'd; I have it on my shoulder. + But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's son: + I have disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land; + Legitimation, name, and all is gone. + Then, good my mother, let me know my father- + Some proper man, I hope. Who was it, mother? + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge? + BASTARD. As faithfully as I deny the devil. + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy father. + By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd + To make room for him in my husband's bed. + Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge! + Thou art the issue of my dear offence, + Which was so strongly urg'd past my defence. + BASTARD. Now, by this light, were I to get again, + Madam, I would not wish a better father. + Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, + And so doth yours: your fault was not your folly; + Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, + Subjected tribute to commanding love, + Against whose fury and unmatched force + The aweless lion could not wage the fight + Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand. + He that perforce robs lions of their hearts + May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother, + With all my heart I thank thee for my father! + Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well + When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell. + Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin; + And they shall say when Richard me begot, + If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin. + Who says it was, he lies; I say 'twas not. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE 1 + +France. Before Angiers + +Enter, on one side, AUSTRIA and forces; on the other, KING PHILIP OF FRANCE, +LEWIS the Dauphin, CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and forces + + KING PHILIP. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria. + Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood, + Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart + And fought the holy wars in Palestine, + By this brave duke came early to his grave; + And for amends to his posterity, + At our importance hither is he come + To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf; + And to rebuke the usurpation + Of thy unnatural uncle, English John. + Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither. + ARTHUR. God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's death + The rather that you give his offspring life, + Shadowing their right under your wings of war. + I give you welcome with a powerless hand, + But with a heart full of unstained love; + Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke. + KING PHILIP. A noble boy! Who would not do thee right? + AUSTRIA. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss + As seal to this indenture of my love: + That to my home I will no more return + Till Angiers and the right thou hast in France, + Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore, + Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides + And coops from other lands her islanders- + Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main, + That water-walled bulwark, still secure + And confident from foreign purposes- + Even till that utmost corner of the west + Salute thee for her king. Till then, fair boy, + Will I not think of home, but follow arms. + CONSTANCE. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks, + Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength + To make a more requital to your love! + AUSTRIA. The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords + In such a just and charitable war. + KING PHILIP. Well then, to work! Our cannon shall be bent + Against the brows of this resisting town; + Call for our chiefest men of discipline, + To cull the plots of best advantages. + We'll lay before this town our royal bones, + Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood, + But we will make it subject to this boy. + CONSTANCE. Stay for an answer to your embassy, + Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood; + My Lord Chatillon may from England bring + That right in peace which here we urge in war, + And then we shall repent each drop of blood + That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. + + Enter CHATILLON + + KING PHILIP. A wonder, lady! Lo, upon thy wish, + Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd. + What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; + We coldly pause for thee. Chatillon, speak. + CHATILLON. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege + And stir them up against a mightier task. + England, impatient of your just demands, + Hath put himself in arms. The adverse winds, + Whose leisure I have stay'd, have given him time + To land his legions all as soon as I; + His marches are expedient to this town, + His forces strong, his soldiers confident. + With him along is come the mother-queen, + An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife; + With her the Lady Blanch of Spain; + With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd; + And all th' unsettled humours of the land- + Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, + With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens- + Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, + Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, + To make a hazard of new fortunes here. + In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits + Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er + Did never float upon the swelling tide + To do offence and scathe in Christendom. [Drum beats] + The interruption of their churlish drums + Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand; + To parley or to fight, therefore prepare. + KING PHILIP. How much unlook'd for is this expedition! + AUSTRIA. By how much unexpected, by so much + We must awake endeavour for defence, + For courage mounteth with occasion. + Let them be welcome then; we are prepar'd. + + Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, BLANCH, the BASTARD, + PEMBROKE, and others + + KING JOHN. Peace be to France, if France in peace permit + Our just and lineal entrance to our own! + If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven, + Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct + Their proud contempt that beats His peace to heaven! + KING PHILIP. Peace be to England, if that war return + From France to England, there to live in peace! + England we love, and for that England's sake + With burden of our armour here we sweat. + This toil of ours should be a work of thine; + But thou from loving England art so far + That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king, + Cut off the sequence of posterity, + Outfaced infant state, and done a rape + Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. + Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face: + These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his; + This little abstract doth contain that large + Which died in Geffrey, and the hand of time + Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume. + That Geffrey was thy elder brother born, + And this his son; England was Geffrey's right, + And this is Geffrey's. In the name of God, + How comes it then that thou art call'd a king, + When living blood doth in these temples beat + Which owe the crown that thou o'er-masterest? + KING JOHN. From whom hast thou this great commission, France, + To draw my answer from thy articles? + KING PHILIP. From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts + In any breast of strong authority + To look into the blots and stains of right. + That judge hath made me guardian to this boy, + Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong, + And by whose help I mean to chastise it. + KING JOHN. Alack, thou dost usurp authority. + KING PHILIP. Excuse it is to beat usurping down. + ELINOR. Who is it thou dost call usurper, France? + CONSTANCE. Let me make answer: thy usurping son. + ELINOR. Out, insolent! Thy bastard shall be king, + That thou mayst be a queen and check the world! + CONSTANCE. My bed was ever to thy son as true + As thine was to thy husband; and this boy + Liker in feature to his father Geffrey + Than thou and John in manners-being as Eke + As rain to water, or devil to his dam. + My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think + His father never was so true begot; + It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother. + ELINOR. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father. + CONSTANCE. There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee. + AUSTRIA. Peace! + BASTARD. Hear the crier. + AUSTRIA. What the devil art thou? + BASTARD. One that will play the devil, sir, with you, + An 'a may catch your hide and you alone. + You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, + Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard; + I'll smoke your skin-coat an I catch you right; + Sirrah, look to 't; i' faith I will, i' faith. + BLANCH. O, well did he become that lion's robe + That did disrobe the lion of that robe! + BASTARD. It lies as sightly on the back of him + As great Alcides' shows upon an ass; + But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back, + Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. + AUSTRIA. What cracker is this same that deafs our ears + With this abundance of superfluous breath? + King Philip, determine what we shall do straight. + KING PHILIP. Women and fools, break off your conference. + King John, this is the very sum of all: + England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, + In right of Arthur, do I claim of thee; + Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms? + KING JOHN. My life as soon. I do defy thee, France. + Arthur of Britaine, yield thee to my hand, + And out of my dear love I'll give thee more + Than e'er the coward hand of France can win. + Submit thee, boy. + ELINOR. Come to thy grandam, child. + CONSTANCE. Do, child, go to it grandam, child; + Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will + Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig. + There's a good grandam! + ARTHUR. Good my mother, peace! + I would that I were low laid in my grave: + I am not worth this coil that's made for me. + ELINOR. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps. + CONSTANCE. Now shame upon you, whe'er she does or no! + His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames, + Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes, + Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee; + Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd + To do him justice and revenge on you. + ELINOR. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth! + CONSTANCE. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth, + Call not me slanderer! Thou and thine usurp + The dominations, royalties, and rights, + Of this oppressed boy; this is thy eldest son's son, + Infortunate in nothing but in thee. + Thy sins are visited in this poor child; + The canon of the law is laid on him, + Being but the second generation + Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. + KING JOHN. Bedlam, have done. + CONSTANCE. I have but this to say- + That he is not only plagued for her sin, + But God hath made her sin and her the plague + On this removed issue, plagued for her + And with her plague; her sin his injury, + Her injury the beadle to her sin; + All punish'd in the person of this child, + And all for her-a plague upon her! + ELINOR. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce + A will that bars the title of thy son. + CONSTANCE. Ay, who doubts that? A will, a wicked will; + A woman's will; a cank'red grandam's will! + KING PHILIP. Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperate. + It ill beseems this presence to cry aim + To these ill-tuned repetitions. + Some trumpet summon hither to the walls + These men of Angiers; let us hear them speak + Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. + + Trumpet sounds. Enter citizens upon the walls + + CITIZEN. Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls? + KING PHILIP. 'Tis France, for England. + KING JOHN. England for itself. + You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects- + KING PHILIP. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects, + Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle- + KING JOHN. For our advantage; therefore hear us first. + These flags of France, that are advanced here + Before the eye and prospect of your town, + Have hither march'd to your endamagement; + The cannons have their bowels full of wrath, + And ready mounted are they to spit forth + Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls; + All preparation for a bloody siege + And merciless proceeding by these French + Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates; + And but for our approach those sleeping stones + That as a waist doth girdle you about + By the compulsion of their ordinance + By this time from their fixed beds of lime + Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made + For bloody power to rush upon your peace. + But on the sight of us your lawful king, + Who painfully with much expedient march + Have brought a countercheck before your gates, + To save unscratch'd your city's threat'ned cheeks- + Behold, the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle; + And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire, + To make a shaking fever in your walls, + They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke, + To make a faithless error in your cars; + Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, + And let us in-your King, whose labour'd spirits, + Forwearied in this action of swift speed, + Craves harbourage within your city walls. + KING PHILIP. When I have said, make answer to us both. + Lo, in this right hand, whose protection + Is most divinely vow'd upon the right + Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet, + Son to the elder brother of this man, + And king o'er him and all that he enjoys; + For this down-trodden equity we tread + In warlike march these greens before your town, + Being no further enemy to you + Than the constraint of hospitable zeal + In the relief of this oppressed child + Religiously provokes. Be pleased then + To pay that duty which you truly owe + To him that owes it, namely, this young prince; + And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, + Save in aspect, hath all offence seal'd up; + Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent + Against th' invulnerable clouds of heaven; + And with a blessed and unvex'd retire, + With unhack'd swords and helmets all unbruis'd, + We will bear home that lusty blood again + Which here we came to spout against your town, + And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace. + But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer, + 'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls + Can hide you from our messengers of war, + Though all these English and their discipline + Were harbour'd in their rude circumference. + Then tell us, shall your city call us lord + In that behalf which we have challeng'd it; + Or shall we give the signal to our rage, + And stalk in blood to our possession? + CITIZEN. In brief: we are the King of England's subjects; + For him, and in his right, we hold this town. + KING JOHN. Acknowledge then the King, and let me in. + CITIZEN. That can we not; but he that proves the King, + To him will we prove loyal. Till that time + Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world. + KING JOHN. Doth not the crown of England prove the King? + And if not that, I bring you witnesses: + Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed- + BASTARD. Bastards and else. + KING JOHN. To verify our title with their lives. + KING PHILIP. As many and as well-born bloods as those- + BASTARD. Some bastards too. + KING PHILIP. Stand in his face to contradict his claim. + CITIZEN. Till you compound whose right is worthiest, + We for the worthiest hold the right from both. + KING JOHN. Then God forgive the sin of all those souls + That to their everlasting residence, + Before the dew of evening fall shall fleet + In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king! + KING PHILIP. Amen, Amen! Mount, chevaliers; to arms! + BASTARD. Saint George, that swing'd the dragon, and e'er since + Sits on's horse back at mine hostess' door, + Teach us some fence! [To AUSTRIA] Sirrah, were I at home, + At your den, sirrah, with your lioness, + I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide, + And make a monster of you. + AUSTRIA. Peace! no more. + BASTARD. O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar! + KING JOHN. Up higher to the plain, where we'll set forth + In best appointment all our regiments. + BASTARD. Speed then to take advantage of the field. + KING PHILIP. It shall be so; and at the other hill + Command the rest to stand. God and our right! Exeunt + + Here, after excursions, enter the HERALD OF FRANCE, + with trumpets, to the gates + + FRENCH HERALD. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates + And let young Arthur, Duke of Britaine, in, + Who by the hand of France this day hath made + Much work for tears in many an English mother, + Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground; + Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, + Coldly embracing the discoloured earth; + And victory with little loss doth play + Upon the dancing banners of the French, + Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed, + To enter conquerors, and to proclaim + Arthur of Britaine England's King and yours. + + Enter ENGLISH HERALD, with trumpet + + ENGLISH HERALD. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells: + King John, your king and England's, doth approach, + Commander of this hot malicious day. + Their armours that march'd hence so silver-bright + Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood. + There stuck no plume in any English crest + That is removed by a staff of France; + Our colours do return in those same hands + That did display them when we first march'd forth; + And like a jolly troop of huntsmen come + Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, + Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes. + Open your gates and give the victors way. + CITIZEN. Heralds, from off our tow'rs we might behold + From first to last the onset and retire + Of both your armies, whose equality + By our best eyes cannot be censured. + Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows; + Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power; + Both are alike, and both alike we like. + One must prove greatest. While they weigh so even, + We hold our town for neither, yet for both. + + Enter the two KINGS, with their powers, at several doors + + KING JOHN. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away? + Say, shall the current of our right run on? + Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment, + Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell + With course disturb'd even thy confining shores, + Unless thou let his silver water keep + A peaceful progress to the ocean. + KING PHILIP. England, thou hast not sav'd one drop of blood + In this hot trial more than we of France; + Rather, lost more. And by this hand I swear, + That sways the earth this climate overlooks, + Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, + We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, + Or add a royal number to the dead, + Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss + With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. + BASTARD. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory tow'rs + When the rich blood of kings is set on fire! + O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel; + The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs; + And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men, + In undetermin'd differences of kings. + Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus? + Cry 'havoc!' kings; back to the stained field, + You equal potents, fiery kindled spirits! + Then let confusion of one part confirm + The other's peace. Till then, blows, blood, and death! + KING JOHN. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit? + KING PHILIP. Speak, citizens, for England; who's your king? + CITIZEN. The King of England, when we know the King. + KING PHILIP. Know him in us that here hold up his right. + KING JOHN. In us that are our own great deputy + And bear possession of our person here, + Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you. + CITIZEN. A greater pow'r than we denies all this; + And till it be undoubted, we do lock + Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates; + King'd of our fears, until our fears, resolv'd, + Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd. + BASTARD. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings, + And stand securely on their battlements + As in a theatre, whence they gape and point + At your industrious scenes and acts of death. + Your royal presences be rul'd by me: + Do like the mutines of Jerusalem, + Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend + Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town. + By east and west let France and England mount + Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths, + Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd down + The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city. + I'd play incessantly upon these jades, + Even till unfenced desolation + Leave them as naked as the vulgar air. + That done, dissever your united strengths + And part your mingled colours once again, + Turn face to face and bloody point to point; + Then in a moment Fortune shall cull forth + Out of one side her happy minion, + To whom in favour she shall give the day, + And kiss him with a glorious victory. + How like you this wild counsel, mighty states? + Smacks it not something of the policy? + KING JOHN. Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads, + I like it well. France, shall we knit our pow'rs + And lay this Angiers even with the ground; + Then after fight who shall be king of it? + BASTARD. An if thou hast the mettle of a king, + Being wrong'd as we are by this peevish town, + Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, + As we will ours, against these saucy walls; + And when that we have dash'd them to the ground, + Why then defy each other, and pell-mell + Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell. + KING PHILIP. Let it be so. Say, where will you assault? + KING JOHN. We from the west will send destruction + Into this city's bosom. + AUSTRIA. I from the north. + KING PHILIP. Our thunder from the south + Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. + BASTARD. [Aside] O prudent discipline! From north to south, + Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth. + I'll stir them to it.-Come, away, away! + CITIZEN. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe awhile to stay, + And I shall show you peace and fair-fac'd league; + Win you this city without stroke or wound; + Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds + That here come sacrifices for the field. + Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings. + KING JOHN. Speak on with favour; we are bent to hear. + CITIZEN. That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch, + Is niece to England; look upon the years + Of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid. + If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, + Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? + If zealous love should go in search of virtue, + Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? + If love ambitious sought a match of birth, + Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch? + Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, + Is the young Dauphin every way complete- + If not complete of, say he is not she; + And she again wants nothing, to name want, + If want it be not that she is not he. + He is the half part of a blessed man, + Left to be finished by such as she; + And she a fair divided excellence, + Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. + O, two such silver currents, when they join, + Do glorify the banks that bound them in; + And two such shores to two such streams made one, + Two such controlling bounds, shall you be, Kings, + To these two princes, if you marry them. + This union shall do more than battery can + To our fast-closed gates; for at this match + With swifter spleen than powder can enforce, + The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope + And give you entrance; but without this match, + The sea enraged is not half so deaf, + Lions more confident, mountains and rocks + More free from motion-no, not Death himself + In mortal fury half so peremptory + As we to keep this city. + BASTARD. Here's a stay + That shakes the rotten carcass of old Death + Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth, indeed, + That spits forth death and mountains, rocks and seas; + Talks as familiarly of roaring lions + As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! + What cannoneer begot this lusty blood? + He speaks plain cannon-fire, and smoke and bounce; + He gives the bastinado with his tongue; + Our ears are cudgell'd; not a word of his + But buffets better than a fist of France. + Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words + Since I first call'd my brother's father dad. + ELINOR. Son, list to this conjunction, make this match; + Give with our niece a dowry large enough; + For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie + Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown + That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe + The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit. + I see a yielding in the looks of France; + Mark how they whisper. Urge them while their souls + Are capable of this ambition, + Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath + Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse, + Cool and congeal again to what it was. + CITIZEN. Why answer not the double majesties + This friendly treaty of our threat'ned town? + KING PHILIP. Speak England first, that hath been forward first + To speak unto this city: what say you? + KING JOHN. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, + Can in this book of beauty read 'I love,' + Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen; + For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, + And all that we upon this side the sea- + Except this city now by us besieg'd- + Find liable to our crown and dignity, + Shall gild her bridal bed, and make her rich + In titles, honours, and promotions, + As she in beauty, education, blood, + Holds hand with any princess of the world. + KING PHILIP. What say'st thou, boy? Look in the lady's face. + LEWIS. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find + A wonder, or a wondrous miracle, + The shadow of myself form'd in her eye; + Which, being but the shadow of your son, + Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow. + I do protest I never lov'd myself + Till now infixed I beheld myself + Drawn in the flattering table of her eye. + [Whispers with BLANCH] + BASTARD. [Aside] Drawn in the flattering table of her eye, + Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow, + And quarter'd in her heart-he doth espy + Himself love's traitor. This is pity now, + That hang'd and drawn and quarter'd there should be + In such a love so vile a lout as he. + BLANCH. My uncle's will in this respect is mine. + If he see aught in you that makes him like, + That anything he sees which moves his liking + I can with ease translate it to my will; + Or if you will, to speak more properly, + I will enforce it eas'ly to my love. + Further I will not flatter you, my lord, + That all I see in you is worthy love, + Than this: that nothing do I see in you- + Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge- + That I can find should merit any hate. + KING JOHN. What say these young ones? What say you, my niece? + BLANCH. That she is bound in honour still to do + What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say. + KING JOHN. Speak then, Prince Dauphin; can you love this lady? + LEWIS. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love; + For I do love her most unfeignedly. + KING JOHN. Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine, + Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces, + With her to thee; and this addition more, + Full thirty thousand marks of English coin. + Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal, + Command thy son and daughter to join hands. + KING PHILIP. It likes us well; young princes, close your hands. + AUSTRIA. And your lips too; for I am well assur'd + That I did so when I was first assur'd. + KING PHILIP. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, + Let in that amity which you have made; + For at Saint Mary's chapel presently + The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd. + Is not the Lady Constance in this troop? + I know she is not; for this match made up + Her presence would have interrupted much. + Where is she and her son? Tell me, who knows. + LEWIS. She is sad and passionate at your Highness' tent. + KING PHILIP. And, by my faith, this league that we have made + Will give her sadness very little cure. + Brother of England, how may we content + This widow lady? In her right we came; + Which we, God knows, have turn'd another way, + To our own vantage. + KING JOHN. We will heal up all, + For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Britaine, + And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town + We make him lord of. Call the Lady Constance; + Some speedy messenger bid her repair + To our solemnity. I trust we shall, + If not fill up the measure of her will, + Yet in some measure satisfy her so + That we shall stop her exclamation. + Go we as well as haste will suffer us + To this unlook'd-for, unprepared pomp. + Exeunt all but the BASTARD + BASTARD. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition! + John, to stop Arthur's tide in the whole, + Hath willingly departed with a part; + And France, whose armour conscience buckled on, + Whom zeal and charity brought to the field + As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear + With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, + That broker that still breaks the pate of faith, + That daily break-vow, he that wins of all, + Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids, + Who having no external thing to lose + But the word 'maid,' cheats the poor maid of that; + That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling commodity, + Commodity, the bias of the world- + The world, who of itself is peised well, + Made to run even upon even ground, + Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias, + This sway of motion, this commodity, + Makes it take head from all indifferency, + From all direction, purpose, course, intent- + And this same bias, this commodity, + This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, + Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France, + Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid, + From a resolv'd and honourable war, + To a most base and vile-concluded peace. + And why rail I on this commodity? + But for because he hath not woo'd me yet; + Not that I have the power to clutch my hand + When his fair angels would salute my palm, + But for my hand, as unattempted yet, + Like a poor beggar raileth on the rich. + Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail + And say there is no sin but to be rich; + And being rich, my virtue then shall be + To say there is no vice but beggary. + Since kings break faith upon commodity, + Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE 1. + +France. The FRENCH KING'S camp + +Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY + + CONSTANCE. Gone to be married! Gone to swear a peace! + False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be friends! + Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces? + It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard; + Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again. + It cannot be; thou dost but say 'tis so; + I trust I may not trust thee, for thy word + Is but the vain breath of a common man: + Believe me I do not believe thee, man; + I have a king's oath to the contrary. + Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, + For I am sick and capable of fears, + Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; + A widow, husbandless, subject to fears; + A woman, naturally born to fears; + And though thou now confess thou didst but jest, + With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, + But they will quake and tremble all this day. + What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? + Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? + What means that hand upon that breast of thine? + Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, + Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds? + Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? + Then speak again-not all thy former tale, + But this one word, whether thy tale be true. + SALISBURY. As true as I believe you think them false + That give you cause to prove my saying true. + CONSTANCE. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, + Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die; + And let belief and life encounter so + As doth the fury of two desperate men + Which in the very meeting fall and die! + Lewis marry Blanch! O boy, then where art thou? + France friend with England; what becomes of me? + Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight; + This news hath made thee a most ugly man. + SALISBURY. What other harm have I, good lady, done + But spoke the harm that is by others done? + CONSTANCE. Which harm within itself so heinous is + As it makes harmful all that speak of it. + ARTHUR. I do beseech you, madam, be content. + CONSTANCE. If thou that bid'st me be content wert grim, + Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, + Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains, + Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, + Patch'd with foul moles and eye-offending marks, + I would not care, I then would be content; + For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou + Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. + But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, + Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great: + Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, + And with the half-blown rose; but Fortune, O! + She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee; + Sh' adulterates hourly with thine uncle John, + And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France + To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, + And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. + France is a bawd to Fortune and King John- + That strumpet Fortune, that usurping John! + Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? + Envenom him with words, or get thee gone + And leave those woes alone which I alone + Am bound to under-bear. + SALISBURY. Pardon me, madam, + I may not go without you to the kings. + CONSTANCE. Thou mayst, thou shalt; I will not go with thee; + I will instruct my sorrows to be proud, + For grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop. + To me, and to the state of my great grief, + Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great + That no supporter but the huge firm earth + Can hold it up. [Seats herself on the ground] + Here I and sorrows sit; + Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. + + Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LEWIS, BLANCH, + ELINOR, the BASTARD, AUSTRIA, and attendants + + KING PHILIP. 'Tis true, fair daughter, and this blessed day + Ever in France shall be kept festival. + To solemnize this day the glorious sun + Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, + Turning with splendour of his precious eye + The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold. + The yearly course that brings this day about + Shall never see it but a holiday. + CONSTANCE. [Rising] A wicked day, and not a holy day! + What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done + That it in golden letters should be set + Among the high tides in the calendar? + Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, + This day of shame, oppression, perjury; + Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child + Pray that their burdens may not fall this day, + Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd; + But on this day let seamen fear no wreck; + No bargains break that are not this day made; + This day, all things begun come to ill end, + Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change! + KING PHILIP. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause + To curse the fair proceedings of this day. + Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty? + CONSTANCE. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit + Resembling majesty, which, being touch'd and tried, + Proves valueless; you are forsworn, forsworn; + You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, + But now in arms you strengthen it with yours. + The grappling vigour and rough frown of war + Is cold in amity and painted peace, + And our oppression hath made up this league. + Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd kings! + A widow cries: Be husband to me, heavens! + Let not the hours of this ungodly day + Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset, + Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings! + Hear me, O, hear me! + AUSTRIA. Lady Constance, peace! + CONSTANCE. War! war! no peace! Peace is to me a war. + O Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame + That bloody spoil. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! + Thou little valiant, great in villainy! + Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! + Thou Fortune's champion that dost never fight + But when her humorous ladyship is by + To teach thee safety! Thou art perjur'd too, + And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, + A ramping fool, to brag and stamp and swear + Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, + Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side, + Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend + Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength, + And dost thou now fall over to my foes? + Thou wear a lion's hide! Doff it for shame, + And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. + AUSTRIA. O that a man should speak those words to me! + BASTARD. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. + AUSTRIA. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life. + BASTARD. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. + KING JOHN. We like not this: thou dost forget thyself. + + Enter PANDULPH + + KING PHILIP. Here comes the holy legate of the Pope. + PANDULPH. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven! + To thee, King John, my holy errand is. + I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, + And from Pope Innocent the legate here, + Do in his name religiously demand + Why thou against the Church, our holy mother, + So wilfully dost spurn; and force perforce + Keep Stephen Langton, chosen Archbishop + Of Canterbury, from that holy see? + This, in our foresaid holy father's name, + Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. + KING JOHN. What earthly name to interrogatories + Can task the free breath of a sacred king? + Thou canst not, Cardinal, devise a name + So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous, + To charge me to an answer, as the Pope. + Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England + Add thus much more, that no Italian priest + Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; + But as we under heaven are supreme head, + So, under Him that great supremacy, + Where we do reign we will alone uphold, + Without th' assistance of a mortal hand. + So tell the Pope, all reverence set apart + To him and his usurp'd authority. + KING PHILIP. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this. + KING JOHN. Though you and all the kings of Christendom + Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, + Dreading the curse that money may buy out, + And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, + Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, + Who in that sale sells pardon from himself- + Though you and all the rest, so grossly led, + This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish; + Yet I alone, alone do me oppose + Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes. + PANDULPH. Then by the lawful power that I have + Thou shalt stand curs'd and excommunicate; + And blessed shall he be that doth revolt + From his allegiance to an heretic; + And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, + Canonized, and worshipp'd as a saint, + That takes away by any secret course + Thy hateful life. + CONSTANCE. O, lawful let it be + That I have room with Rome to curse awhile! + Good father Cardinal, cry thou 'amen' + To my keen curses; for without my wrong + There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. + PANDULPH. There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse. + CONSTANCE. And for mine too; when law can do no right, + Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong; + Law cannot give my child his kingdom here, + For he that holds his kingdom holds the law; + Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, + How can the law forbid my tongue to curse? + PANDULPH. Philip of France, on peril of a curse, + Let go the hand of that arch-heretic, + And raise the power of France upon his head, + Unless he do submit himself to Rome. + ELINOR. Look'st thou pale, France? Do not let go thy hand. + CONSTANCE. Look to that, devil, lest that France repent + And by disjoining hands hell lose a soul. + AUSTRIA. King Philip, listen to the Cardinal. + BASTARD. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs. + AUSTRIA. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, + Because- + BASTARD. Your breeches best may carry them. + KING JOHN. Philip, what say'st thou to the Cardinal? + CONSTANCE. What should he say, but as the Cardinal? + LEWIS. Bethink you, father; for the difference + Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome + Or the light loss of England for a friend. + Forgo the easier. + BLANCH. That's the curse of Rome. + CONSTANCE. O Lewis, stand fast! The devil tempts thee here + In likeness of a new untrimmed bride. + BLANCH. The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith, + But from her need. + CONSTANCE. O, if thou grant my need, + Which only lives but by the death of faith, + That need must needs infer this principle- + That faith would live again by death of need. + O then, tread down my need, and faith mounts up: + Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down! + KING JOHN. The King is mov'd, and answers not to this. + CONSTANCE. O be remov'd from him, and answer well! + AUSTRIA. Do so, King Philip; hang no more in doubt. + BASTARD. Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout. + KING PHILIP. I am perplex'd and know not what to say. + PANDULPH. What canst thou say but will perplex thee more, + If thou stand excommunicate and curs'd? + KING PHILIP. Good reverend father, make my person yours, + And tell me how you would bestow yourself. + This royal hand and mine are newly knit, + And the conjunction of our inward souls + Married in league, coupled and link'd together + With all religious strength of sacred vows; + The latest breath that gave the sound of words + Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love, + Between our kingdoms and our royal selves; + And even before this truce, but new before, + No longer than we well could wash our hands, + To clap this royal bargain up of peace, + Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and overstain'd + With slaughter's pencil, where revenge did paint + The fearful difference of incensed kings. + And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood, + So newly join'd in love, so strong in both, + Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet? + Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with heaven, + Make such unconstant children of ourselves, + As now again to snatch our palm from palm, + Unswear faith sworn, and on the marriage-bed + Of smiling peace to march a bloody host, + And make a riot on the gentle brow + Of true sincerity? O, holy sir, + My reverend father, let it not be so! + Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose, + Some gentle order; and then we shall be blest + To do your pleasure, and continue friends. + PANDULPH. All form is formless, order orderless, + Save what is opposite to England's love. + Therefore, to arms! be champion of our church, + Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse- + A mother's curse-on her revolting son. + France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, + A chafed lion by the mortal paw, + A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, + Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. + KING PHILIP. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. + PANDULPH. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith; + And like. a civil war set'st oath to oath. + Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow + First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform'd, + That is, to be the champion of our Church. + What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself + And may not be performed by thyself, + For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss + Is not amiss when it is truly done; + And being not done, where doing tends to ill, + The truth is then most done not doing it; + The better act of purposes mistook + Is to mistake again; though indirect, + Yet indirection thereby grows direct, + And falsehood cures, as fire cools fire + Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd. + It is religion that doth make vows kept; + But thou hast sworn against religion + By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st, + And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth + Against an oath; the truth thou art unsure + To swear swears only not to be forsworn; + Else what a mockery should it be to swear! + But thou dost swear only to be forsworn; + And most forsworn to keep what thou dost swear. + Therefore thy later vows against thy first + Is in thyself rebellion to thyself; + And better conquest never canst thou make + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + Against these giddy loose suggestions; + Upon which better part our pray'rs come in, + If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then know + The peril of our curses fight on thee + So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off, + But in despair die under the black weight. + AUSTRIA. Rebellion, flat rebellion! + BASTARD. Will't not be? + Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine? + LEWIS. Father, to arms! + BLANCH. Upon thy wedding-day? + Against the blood that thou hast married? + What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men? + Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums, + Clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp? + O husband, hear me! ay, alack, how new + Is 'husband' in my mouth! even for that name, + Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce, + Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms + Against mine uncle. + CONSTANCE. O, upon my knee, + Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, + Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom + Forethought by heaven! + BLANCH. Now shall I see thy love. What motive may + Be stronger with thee than the name of wife? + CONSTANCE. That which upholdeth him that thee upholds, + His honour. O, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour! + LEWIS. I muse your Majesty doth seem so cold, + When such profound respects do pull you on. + PANDULPH. I will denounce a curse upon his head. + KING PHILIP. Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall from thee. + CONSTANCE. O fair return of banish'd majesty! + ELINOR. O foul revolt of French inconstancy! + KING JOHN. France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour. + BASTARD. Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton Time, + Is it as he will? Well then, France shall rue. + BLANCH. The sun's o'ercast with blood. Fair day, adieu! + Which is the side that I must go withal? + I am with both: each army hath a hand; + And in their rage, I having hold of both, + They whirl asunder and dismember me. + Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win; + Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose; + Father, I may not wish the fortune thine; + Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive. + Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose: + Assured loss before the match be play'd. + LEWIS. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies. + BLANCH. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies. + KING JOHN. Cousin, go draw our puissance together. + Exit BASTARD + France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath, + A rage whose heat hath this condition + That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, + The blood, and dearest-valu'd blood, of France. + KING PHILIP. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shalt turn + To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire. + Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy. + KING JOHN. No more than he that threats. To arms let's hie! + Exeunt severally + + + + +SCENE 2. + +France. Plains near Angiers + +Alarums, excursions. Enter the BASTARD with AUSTRIA'S head + + BASTARD. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot; + Some airy devil hovers in the sky + And pours down mischief. Austria's head lie there, + While Philip breathes. + + Enter KING JOHN, ARTHUR, and HUBERT + + KING JOHN. Hubert, keep this boy. Philip, make up: + My mother is assailed in our tent, + And ta'en, I fear. + BASTARD. My lord, I rescued her; + Her Highness is in safety, fear you not; + But on, my liege, for very little pains + Will bring this labour to an happy end. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +France. Plains near Angiers + +Alarums, excursions, retreat. Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, +the BASTARD, HUBERT, and LORDS + + KING JOHN. [To ELINOR] So shall it be; your Grace shall stay + behind, + So strongly guarded. [To ARTHUR] Cousin, look not sad; + Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will + As dear be to thee as thy father was. + ARTHUR. O, this will make my mother die with grief! + KING JOHN. [To the BASTARD] Cousin, away for England! haste + before, + And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags + Of hoarding abbots; imprisoned angels + Set at liberty; the fat ribs of peace + Must by the hungry now be fed upon. + Use our commission in his utmost force. + BASTARD. Bell, book, and candle, shall not drive me back, + When gold and silver becks me to come on. + I leave your Highness. Grandam, I will pray, + If ever I remember to be holy, + For your fair safety. So, I kiss your hand. + ELINOR. Farewell, gentle cousin. + KING JOHN. Coz, farewell. + Exit BASTARD + ELINOR. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word. + KING JOHN. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, + We owe thee much! Within this wall of flesh + There is a soul counts thee her creditor, + And with advantage means to pay thy love; + And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath + Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. + Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say- + But I will fit it with some better time. + By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd + To say what good respect I have of thee. + HUBERT. I am much bounden to your Majesty. + KING JOHN. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, + But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow, + Yet it shall come for me to do thee good. + I had a thing to say-but let it go: + The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, + Attended with the pleasures of the world, + Is all too wanton and too full of gawds + To give me audience. If the midnight bell + Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth + Sound on into the drowsy race of night; + If this same were a churchyard where we stand, + And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; + Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, + Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick, + Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, + Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes + And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, + A passion hateful to my purposes; + Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, + Hear me without thine cars, and make reply + Without a tongue, using conceit alone, + Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words- + Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, + I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts. + But, ah, I will not! Yet I love thee well; + And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well. + HUBERT. So well that what you bid me undertake, + Though that my death were adjunct to my act, + By heaven, I would do it. + KING JOHN. Do not I know thou wouldst? + Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye + On yon young boy. I'll tell thee what, my friend, + He is a very serpent in my way; + And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread, + He lies before me. Dost thou understand me? + Thou art his keeper. + HUBERT. And I'll keep him so + That he shall not offend your Majesty. + KING JOHN. Death. + HUBERT. My lord? + KING JOHN. A grave. + HUBERT. He shall not live. + KING JOHN. Enough! + I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee. + Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee. + Remember. Madam, fare you well; + I'll send those powers o'er to your Majesty. + ELINOR. My blessing go with thee! + KING JOHN. [To ARTHUR] For England, cousin, go; + Hubert shall be your man, attend on you + With all true duty. On toward Calais, ho! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +France. The FRENCH KING's camp + +Enter KING PHILIP, LEWIS, PANDULPH, and attendants + + KING PHILIP. So by a roaring tempest on the flood + A whole armado of convicted sail + Is scattered and disjoin'd from fellowship. + PANDULPH. Courage and comfort! All shall yet go well. + KING PHILIP. What can go well, when we have run so ill. + Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? + Arthur ta'en prisoner? Divers dear friends slain? + And bloody England into England gone, + O'erbearing interruption, spite of France? + LEWIS. he hath won, that hath he fortified; + So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd, + Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, + Doth want example; who hath read or heard + Of any kindred action like to this? + KING PHILIP. Well could I bear that England had this praise, + So we could find some pattern of our shame. + + Enter CONSTANCE + + Look who comes here! a grave unto a soul; + Holding th' eternal spirit, against her will, + In the vile prison of afflicted breath. + I prithee, lady, go away with me. + CONSTANCE. Lo now! now see the issue of your peace! + KING PHILIP. Patience, good lady! Comfort, gentle Constance! + CONSTANCE. No, I defy all counsel, all redress, + But that which ends all counsel, true redress- + Death, death; O amiable lovely death! + Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! + Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, + Thou hate and terror to prosperity, + And I will kiss thy detestable bones, + And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows, + And ring these fingers with thy household worms, + And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, + And be a carrion monster like thyself. + Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smil'st, + And buss thee as thy wife. Misery's love, + O, come to me! + KING PHILIP. O fair affliction, peace! + CONSTANCE. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry. + O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! + Then with a passion would I shake the world, + And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy + Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, + Which scorns a modern invocation. + PANDULPH. Lady, you utter madness and not sorrow. + CONSTANCE. Thou art not holy to belie me so. + I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine; + My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife; + Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost. + I am not mad-I would to heaven I were! + For then 'tis like I should forget myself. + O, if I could, what grief should I forget! + Preach some philosophy to make me mad, + And thou shalt be canoniz'd, Cardinal; + For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, + My reasonable part produces reason + How I may be deliver'd of these woes, + And teaches me to kill or hang myself. + If I were mad I should forget my son, + Or madly think a babe of clouts were he. + I am not mad; too well, too well I feel + The different plague of each calamity. + KING PHILIP. Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note + In the fair multitude of those her hairs! + Where but by a chance a silver drop hath fall'n, + Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends + Do glue themselves in sociable grief, + Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, + Sticking together in calamity. + CONSTANCE. To England, if you will. + KING PHILIP. Bind up your hairs. + CONSTANCE. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it? + I tore them from their bonds, and cried aloud + 'O that these hands could so redeem my son, + As they have given these hairs their liberty!' + But now I envy at their liberty, + And will again commit them to their bonds, + Because my poor child is a prisoner. + And, father Cardinal, I have heard you say + That we shall see and know our friends in heaven; + If that be true, I shall see my boy again; + For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, + To him that did but yesterday suspire, + There was not such a gracious creature born. + But now will canker sorrow eat my bud + And chase the native beauty from his cheek, + And he will look as hollow as a ghost, + As dim and meagre as an ague's fit; + And so he'll die; and, rising so again, + When I shall meet him in the court of heaven + I shall not know him. Therefore never, never + Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. + PANDULPH. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. + CONSTANCE. He talks to me that never had a son. + KING PHILIP. You are as fond of grief as of your child. + CONSTANCE. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, + Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, + Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, + Remembers me of all his gracious parts, + Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; + Then have I reason to be fond of grief. + Fare you well; had you such a loss as I, + I could give better comfort than you do. + I will not keep this form upon my head, + [Tearing her hair] + When there is such disorder in my wit. + O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son! + My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world! + My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! Exit + KING PHILIP. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. Exit + LEWIS. There's nothing in this world can make me joy. + Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale + Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; + And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, + That it yields nought but shame and bitterness. + PANDULPH. Before the curing of a strong disease, + Even in the instant of repair and health, + The fit is strongest; evils that take leave + On their departure most of all show evil; + What have you lost by losing of this day? + LEWIS. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. + PANDULPH. If you had won it, certainly you had. + No, no; when Fortune means to men most good, + She looks upon them with a threat'ning eye. + 'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost + In this which he accounts so clearly won. + Are not you griev'd that Arthur is his prisoner? + LEWIS. As heartily as he is glad he hath him. + PANDULPH. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. + Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit; + For even the breath of what I mean to speak + Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, + Out of the path which shall directly lead + Thy foot to England's throne. And therefore mark: + John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be + That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, + The misplac'd John should entertain an hour, + One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest. + A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand + Must be boisterously maintain'd as gain'd, + And he that stands upon a slipp'ry place + Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up; + That John may stand then, Arthur needs must fall; + So be it, for it cannot be but so. + LEWIS. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall? + PANDULPH. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, + May then make all the claim that Arthur did. + LEWIS. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. + PANDULPH. How green you are and fresh in this old world! + John lays you plots; the times conspire with you; + For he that steeps his safety in true blood + Shall find but bloody safety and untrue. + This act, so evilly borne, shall cool the hearts + Of all his people and freeze up their zeal, + That none so small advantage shall step forth + To check his reign but they will cherish it; + No natural exhalation in the sky, + No scope of nature, no distemper'd day, + No common wind, no customed event, + But they will pluck away his natural cause + And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, + Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven, + Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. + LEWIS. May be he will not touch young Arthur's life, + But hold himself safe in his prisonment. + PANDULPH. O, Sir, when he shall hear of your approach, + If that young Arthur be not gone already, + Even at that news he dies; and then the hearts + Of all his people shall revolt from him, + And kiss the lips of unacquainted change, + And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath + Out of the bloody fingers' ends of john. + Methinks I see this hurly all on foot; + And, O, what better matter breeds for you + Than I have nam'd! The bastard Faulconbridge + Is now in England ransacking the Church, + Offending charity; if but a dozen French + Were there in arms, they would be as a can + To train ten thousand English to their side; + Or as a little snow, tumbled about, + Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, + Go with me to the King. 'Tis wonderful + What may be wrought out of their discontent, + Now that their souls are topful of offence. + For England go; I will whet on the King. + LEWIS. Strong reasons makes strong actions. Let us go; + If you say ay, the King will not say no. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 1. + +England. A castle + +Enter HUBERT and EXECUTIONERS + + HUBERT. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand + Within the arras. When I strike my foot + Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth + And bind the boy which you shall find with me + Fast to the chair. Be heedful; hence, and watch. + EXECUTIONER. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. + HUBERT. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you. Look to't. + Exeunt EXECUTIONERS + Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. + + Enter ARTHUR + + ARTHUR. Good morrow, Hubert. + HUBERT. Good morrow, little Prince. + ARTHUR. As little prince, having so great a tide + To be more prince, as may be. You are sad. + HUBERT. Indeed I have been merrier. + ARTHUR. Mercy on me! + Methinks no body should be sad but I; + Yet, I remember, when I was in France, + Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, + Only for wantonness. By my christendom, + So I were out of prison and kept sheep, + I should be as merry as the day is long; + And so I would be here but that I doubt + My uncle practises more harm to me; + He is afraid of me, and I of him. + Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? + No, indeed, ist not; and I would to heaven + I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. + HUBERT. [Aside] If I talk to him, with his innocent prate + He will awake my mercy, which lies dead; + Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch. + ARTHUR. Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale to-day; + In sooth, I would you were a little sick, + That I might sit all night and watch with you. + I warrant I love you more than you do me. + HUBERT. [Aside] His words do take possession of my bosom.- + Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper] + [Aside] How now, foolish rheum! + Turning dispiteous torture out of door! + I must be brief, lest resolution drop + Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears.- + Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ? + ARTHUR. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect. + Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? + HUBERT. Young boy, I must. + ARTHUR. And will you? + HUBERT. And I will. + ARTHUR. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, + I knit my handkerchief about your brows- + The best I had, a princess wrought it me- + And I did never ask it you again; + And with my hand at midnight held your head; + And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, + Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time, + Saying 'What lack you?' and 'Where lies your grief?' + Or 'What good love may I perform for you?' + Many a poor man's son would have lyen still, + And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; + But you at your sick service had a prince. + Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, + And call it cunning. Do, an if you will. + If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, + Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes, + These eyes that never did nor never shall + So much as frown on you? + HUBERT. I have sworn to do it; + And with hot irons must I burn them out. + ARTHUR. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it! + The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, + Approaching near these eyes would drink my tears, + And quench his fiery indignation + Even in the matter of mine innocence; + Nay, after that, consume away in rust + But for containing fire to harm mine eye. + Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? + An if an angel should have come to me + And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, + I would not have believ'd him-no tongue but Hubert's. + HUBERT. [Stamps] Come forth. + + Re-enter EXECUTIONERS, With cord, irons, etc. + + Do as I bid you do. + ARTHUR. O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out + Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. + HUBERT. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. + ARTHUR. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous rough? + I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. + For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! + Nay, hear me, Hubert! Drive these men away, + And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; + I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, + Nor look upon the iron angrily; + Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, + Whatever torment you do put me to. + HUBERT. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. + EXECUTIONER. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed. + Exeunt EXECUTIONERS + ARTHUR. Alas, I then have chid away my friend! + He hath a stern look but a gentle heart. + Let him come back, that his compassion may + Give life to yours. + HUBERT. Come, boy, prepare yourself. + ARTHUR. Is there no remedy? + HUBERT. None, but to lose your eyes. + ARTHUR. O heaven, that there were but a mote in yours, + A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, + Any annoyance in that precious sense! + Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, + Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. + HUBERT. Is this your promise? Go to, hold your tongue. + ARTHUR. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues + Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes. + Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert; + Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, + So I may keep mine eyes. O, spare mine eyes, + Though to no use but still to look on you! + Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold + And would not harm me. + HUBERT. I can heat it, boy. + ARTHUR. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief, + Being create for comfort, to be us'd + In undeserved extremes. See else yourself: + There is no malice in this burning coal; + The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, + And strew'd repentant ashes on his head. + HUBERT. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. + ARTHUR. An if you do, you will but make it blush + And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert. + Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes, + And, like a dog that is compell'd to fight, + Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. + All things that you should use to do me wrong + Deny their office; only you do lack + That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends, + Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. + HUBERT. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eye + For all the treasure that thine uncle owes. + Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy, + With this same very iron to burn them out. + ARTHUR. O, now you look like Hubert! All this while + You were disguis'd. + HUBERT. Peace; no more. Adieu. + Your uncle must not know but you are dead: + I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports; + And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure + That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, + Will not offend thee. + ARTHUR. O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. + HUBERT. Silence; no more. Go closely in with me. + Much danger do I undergo for thee. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. + +England. KING JOHN'S palace + +Enter KING JOHN, PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other LORDS + + KING JOHN. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, + And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. + PEMBROKE. This once again, but that your Highness pleas'd, + Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, + And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off, + The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt; + Fresh expectation troubled not the land + With any long'd-for change or better state. + SALISBURY. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, + To guard a title that was rich before, + To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, + To throw a perfume on the violet, + To smooth the ice, or add another hue + Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light + To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, + Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. + PEMBROKE. But that your royal pleasure must be done, + This act is as an ancient tale new told + And, in the last repeating, troublesome, + Being urged at a time unseasonable. + SALISBURY. In this the antique and well-noted face + Of plain old form is much disfigured; + And like a shifted wind unto a sail + It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, + Startles and frights consideration, + Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, + For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. + PEMBROKE. When workmen strive to do better than well, + They do confound their skill in covetousness; + And oftentimes excusing of a fault + Doth make the fault the worse by th' excuse, + As patches set upon a little breach + Discredit more in hiding of the fault + Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. + SALISBURY. To this effect, before you were new-crown'd, + We breath'd our counsel; but it pleas'd your Highness + To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd, + Since all and every part of what we would + Doth make a stand at what your Highness will. + KING JOHN. Some reasons of this double coronation + I have possess'd you with, and think them strong; + And more, more strong, when lesser is my fear, + I shall indue you with. Meantime but ask + What you would have reform'd that is not well, + And well shall you perceive how willingly + I will both hear and grant you your requests. + PEMBROKE. Then I, as one that am the tongue of these, + To sound the purposes of all their hearts, + Both for myself and them- but, chief of all, + Your safety, for the which myself and them + Bend their best studies, heartily request + Th' enfranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint + Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent + To break into this dangerous argument: + If what in rest you have in right you hold, + Why then your fears-which, as they say, attend + The steps of wrong-should move you to mew up + Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days + With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth + The rich advantage of good exercise? + That the time's enemies may not have this + To grace occasions, let it be our suit + That you have bid us ask his liberty; + Which for our goods we do no further ask + Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, + Counts it your weal he have his liberty. + KING JOHN. Let it be so. I do commit his youth + To your direction. + + Enter HUBERT + + [Aside] Hubert, what news with you? + PEMBROKE. This is the man should do the bloody deed: + He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine; + The image of a wicked heinous fault + Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his + Doth show the mood of a much troubled breast, + And I do fearfully believe 'tis done + What we so fear'd he had a charge to do. + SALISBURY. The colour of the King doth come and go + Between his purpose and his conscience, + Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set. + His passion is so ripe it needs must break. + PEMBROKE. And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence + The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. + KING JOHN. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand. + Good lords, although my will to give is living, + The suit which you demand is gone and dead: + He tells us Arthur is deceas'd to-night. + SALISBURY. Indeed, we fear'd his sickness was past cure. + PEMBROKE. Indeed, we heard how near his death he was, + Before the child himself felt he was sick. + This must be answer'd either here or hence. + KING JOHN. Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? + Think you I bear the shears of destiny? + Have I commandment on the pulse of life? + SALISBURY. It is apparent foul-play; and 'tis shame + That greatness should so grossly offer it. + So thrive it in your game! and so, farewell. + PEMBROKE. Stay yet, Lord Salisbury, I'll go with thee + And find th' inheritance of this poor child, + His little kingdom of a forced grave. + That blood which ow'd the breadth of all this isle + Three foot of it doth hold-bad world the while! + This must not be thus borne: this will break out + To all our sorrows, and ere long I doubt. Exeunt LORDS + KING JOHN. They burn in indignation. I repent. + There is no sure foundation set on blood, + No certain life achiev'd by others' death. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + A fearful eye thou hast; where is that blood + That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? + So foul a sky clears not without a storm. + Pour down thy weather-how goes all in France? + MESSENGER. From France to England. Never such a pow'r + For any foreign preparation + Was levied in the body of a land. + The copy of your speed is learn'd by them, + For when you should be told they do prepare, + The tidings comes that they are all arriv'd. + KING JOHN. O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? + Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care, + That such an army could be drawn in France, + And she not hear of it? + MESSENGER. My liege, her ear + Is stopp'd with dust: the first of April died + Your noble mother; and as I hear, my lord, + The Lady Constance in a frenzy died + Three days before; but this from rumour's tongue + I idly heard-if true or false I know not. + KING JOHN. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion! + O, make a league with me, till I have pleas'd + My discontented peers! What! mother dead! + How wildly then walks my estate in France! + Under whose conduct came those pow'rs of France + That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here? + MESSENGER. Under the Dauphin. + KING JOHN. Thou hast made me giddy + With these in tidings. + + Enter the BASTARD and PETER OF POMFRET + + Now! What says the world + To your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff + My head with more ill news, for it is fun. + BASTARD. But if you be afear'd to hear the worst, + Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. + KING JOHN. Bear with me, cousin, for I was amaz'd + Under the tide; but now I breathe again + Aloft the flood, and can give audience + To any tongue, speak it of what it will. + BASTARD. How I have sped among the clergymen + The sums I have collected shall express. + But as I travell'd hither through the land, + I find the people strangely fantasied; + Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams. + Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear; + And here's a prophet that I brought with me + From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found + With many hundreds treading on his heels; + To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes, + That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, + Your Highness should deliver up your crown. + KING JOHN. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so? + PETER. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. + KING JOHN. Hubert, away with him; imprison him; + And on that day at noon whereon he says + I shall yield up my crown let him be hang'd. + Deliver him to safety; and return, + For I must use thee. + Exit HUBERT with PETER + O my gentle cousin, + Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd? + BASTARD. The French, my lord; men's mouths are full of it; + Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury, + With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire, + And others more, going to seek the grave + Of Arthur, whom they say is kill'd to-night + On your suggestion. + KING JOHN. Gentle kinsman, go + And thrust thyself into their companies. + I have a way to will their loves again; + Bring them before me. + BASTARD. I Will seek them out. + KING JOHN. Nay, but make haste; the better foot before. + O, let me have no subject enemies + When adverse foreigners affright my towns + With dreadful pomp of stout invasion! + Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels, + And fly like thought from them to me again. + BASTARD. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. + KING JOHN. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman. + Exit BASTARD + Go after him; for he perhaps shall need + Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; + And be thou he. + MESSENGER. With all my heart, my liege. Exit + KING JOHN. My mother dead! + + Re-enter HUBERT + + HUBERT. My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night; + Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about + The other four in wondrous motion. + KING JOHN. Five moons! + HUBERT. Old men and beldams in the streets + Do prophesy upon it dangerously; + Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths; + And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, + And whisper one another in the ear; + And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist, + Whilst he that hears makes fearful action + With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. + I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, + The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, + With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; + Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, + Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste + Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet, + Told of a many thousand warlike French + That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent. + Another lean unwash'd artificer + Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. + KING JOHN. Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears? + Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? + Thy hand hath murd'red him. I had a mighty cause + To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. + HUBERT. No had, my lord! Why, did you not provoke me? + KING JOHN. It is the curse of kings to be attended + By slaves that take their humours for a warrant + To break within the bloody house of life, + And on the winking of authority + To understand a law; to know the meaning + Of dangerous majesty, when perchance it frowns + More upon humour than advis'd respect. + HUBERT. Here is your hand and seal for what I did. + KING JOHN. O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth + Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal + Witness against us to damnation! + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds + Make deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, + A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, + Quoted and sign'd to do a deed of shame, + This murder had not come into my mind; + But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, + Finding thee fit for bloody villainy, + Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger, + I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death; + And thou, to be endeared to a king, + Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. + HUBERT. My lord- + KING JOHN. Hadst thou but shook thy head or made pause, + When I spake darkly what I purposed, + Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, + As bid me tell my tale in express words, + Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, + And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me. + But thou didst understand me by my signs, + And didst in signs again parley with sin; + Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, + And consequently thy rude hand to act + The deed which both our tongues held vile to name. + Out of my sight, and never see me more! + My nobles leave me; and my state is braved, + Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign pow'rs; + Nay, in the body of the fleshly land, + This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, + Hostility and civil tumult reigns + Between my conscience and my cousin's death. + HUBERT. Arm you against your other enemies, + I'll make a peace between your soul and you. + Young Arthur is alive. This hand of mine + Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, + Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. + Within this bosom never ent'red yet + The dreadful motion of a murderous thought + And you have slander'd nature in my form, + Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, + Is yet the cover of a fairer mind + Than to be butcher of an innocent child. + KING JOHN. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, + Throw this report on their incensed rage + And make them tame to their obedience! + Forgive the comment that my passion made + Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, + And foul imaginary eyes of blood + Presented thee more hideous than thou art. + O, answer not; but to my closet bring + The angry lords with all expedient haste. + I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +England. Before the castle + +Enter ARTHUR, on the walls + + ARTHUR. The wall is high, and yet will I leap down. + Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not! + There's few or none do know me; if they did, + This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite. + I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it. + If I get down and do not break my limbs, + I'll find a thousand shifts to get away. + As good to die and go, as die and stay. [Leaps down] + O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones. + Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones! + [Dies] + + Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT + + SALISBURY. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury; + It is our safety, and we must embrace + This gentle offer of the perilous time. + PEMBROKE. Who brought that letter from the Cardinal? + SALISBURY. The Count Melun, a noble lord of France, + Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love + Is much more general than these lines import. + BIGOT. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. + SALISBURY. Or rather then set forward; for 'twill be + Two long days' journey, lords, or ere we meet. + + Enter the BASTARD + + BASTARD. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd lords! + The King by me requests your presence straight. + SALISBURY. The King hath dispossess'd himself of us. + We will not line his thin bestained cloak + With our pure honours, nor attend the foot + That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks. + Return and tell him so. We know the worst. + BASTARD. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best. + SALISBURY. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. + BASTARD. But there is little reason in your grief; + Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now. + PEMBROKE. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. + BASTARD. 'Tis true-to hurt his master, no man else. + SALISBURY. This is the prison. What is he lies here? + PEMBROKE. O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty! + The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. + SALISBURY. Murder, as hating what himself hath done, + Doth lay it open to urge on revenge. + BIGOT. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, + Found it too precious-princely for a grave. + SALISBURY. Sir Richard, what think you? Have you beheld, + Or have you read or heard, or could you think? + Or do you almost think, although you see, + That you do see? Could thought, without this object, + Form such another? This is the very top, + The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, + Of murder's arms; this is the bloodiest shame, + The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke, + That ever wall-ey'd wrath or staring rage + Presented to the tears of soft remorse. + PEMBROKE. All murders past do stand excus'd in this; + And this, so sole and so unmatchable, + Shall give a holiness, a purity, + To the yet unbegotten sin of times, + And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, + Exampled by this heinous spectacle. + BASTARD. It is a damned and a bloody work; + The graceless action of a heavy hand, + If that it be the work of any hand. + SALISBURY. If that it be the work of any hand! + We had a kind of light what would ensue. + It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand; + The practice and the purpose of the King; + From whose obedience I forbid my soul + Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, + And breathing to his breathless excellence + The incense of a vow, a holy vow, + Never to taste the pleasures of the world, + Never to be infected with delight, + Nor conversant with ease and idleness, + Till I have set a glory to this hand + By giving it the worship of revenge. + PEMBROKE. and BIGOT. Our souls religiously confirm thy words. + + Enter HUBERT + + HUBERT. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you. + Arthur doth live; the King hath sent for you. + SALISBURY. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death! + Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! + HUBERT. I am no villain. + SALISBURY. Must I rob the law? [Drawing his sword] + BASTARD. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again. + SALISBURY. Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin. + HUBERT. Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say; + By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours. + I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, + Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; + Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget + Your worth, your greatness and nobility. + BIGOT. Out, dunghill! Dar'st thou brave a nobleman? + HUBERT. Not for my life; but yet I dare defend + My innocent life against an emperor. + SALISBURY. Thou art a murderer. + HUBERT. Do not prove me so. + Yet I am none. Whose tongue soe'er speaks false, + Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. + PEMBROKE. Cut him to pieces. + BASTARD. Keep the peace, I say. + SALISBURY. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge. + BASTARD. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury. + If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, + Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, + I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime; + Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron + That you shall think the devil is come from hell. + BIGOT. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? + Second a villain and a murderer? + HUBERT. Lord Bigot, I am none. + BIGOT. Who kill'd this prince? + HUBERT. 'Tis not an hour since I left him well. + I honour'd him, I lov'd him, and will weep + My date of life out for his sweet life's loss. + SALISBURY. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, + For villainy is not without such rheum; + And he, long traded in it, makes it seem + Like rivers of remorse and innocency. + Away with me, all you whose souls abhor + Th' uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house; + For I am stifled with this smell of sin. + BIGOT. Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there! + PEMBROKE. There tell the King he may inquire us out. + Exeunt LORDS + BASTARD. Here's a good world! Knew you of this fair work? + Beyond the infinite and boundless reach + Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, + Art thou damn'd, Hubert. + HUBERT. Do but hear me, sir. + BASTARD. Ha! I'll tell thee what: + Thou'rt damn'd as black-nay, nothing is so black- + Thou art more deep damn'd than Prince Lucifer; + There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell + As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. + HUBERT. Upon my soul- + BASTARD. If thou didst but consent + To this most cruel act, do but despair; + And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread + That ever spider twisted from her womb + Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be a beam + To hang thee on; or wouldst thou drown thyself, + Put but a little water in a spoon + And it shall be as all the ocean, + Enough to stifle such a villain up + I do suspect thee very grievously. + HUBERT. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought, + Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath + Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, + Let hell want pains enough to torture me! + I left him well. + BASTARD. Go, bear him in thine arms. + I am amaz'd, methinks, and lose my way + Among the thorns and dangers of this world. + How easy dost thou take all England up! + From forth this morsel of dead royalty + The life, the right, and truth of all this realm + Is fled to heaven; and England now is left + To tug and scamble, and to part by th' teeth + The unowed interest of proud-swelling state. + Now for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty + Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest + And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace; + Now powers from home and discontents at home + Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits, + As doth a raven on a sick-fall'n beast, + The imminent decay of wrested pomp. + Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can + Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child, + And follow me with speed. I'll to the King; + A thousand businesses are brief in hand, + And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1. +England. KING JOHN'S palace + +Enter KING JOHN, PANDULPH, and attendants + + KING JOHN. Thus have I yielded up into your hand + The circle of my glory. + PANDULPH. [Gives back the crown] Take again + From this my hand, as holding of the Pope, + Your sovereign greatness and authority. + KING JOHN. Now keep your holy word; go meet the French; + And from his Holiness use all your power + To stop their marches fore we are inflam'd. + Our discontented counties do revolt; + Our people quarrel with obedience, + Swearing allegiance and the love of soul + To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. + This inundation of mistemp'red humour + Rests by you only to be qualified. + Then pause not; for the present time's so sick + That present med'cine must be minist'red + Or overthrow incurable ensues. + PANDULPH. It was my breath that blew this tempest up, + Upon your stubborn usage of the Pope; + But since you are a gentle convertite, + My tongue shall hush again this storm of war + And make fair weather in your blust'ring land. + On this Ascension-day, remember well, + Upon your oath of service to the Pope, + Go I to make the French lay down their arms. Exit + KING JOHN. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophet + Say that before Ascension-day at noon + My crown I should give off? Even so I have. + I did suppose it should be on constraint; + But, heaven be thank'd, it is but voluntary. + + Enter the BASTARD + + BASTARD. All Kent hath yielded; nothing there holds out + But Dover Castle. London hath receiv'd, + Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers. + Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone + To offer service to your enemy; + And wild amazement hurries up and down + The little number of your doubtful friends. + KING JOHN. Would not my lords return to me again + After they heard young Arthur was alive? + BASTARD. They found him dead, and cast into the streets, + An empty casket, where the jewel of life + By some damn'd hand was robbed and ta'en away. + KING JOHN. That villain Hubert told me he did live. + BASTARD. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. + But wherefore do you droop? Why look you sad? + Be great in act, as you have been in thought; + Let not the world see fear and sad distrust + Govern the motion of a kingly eye. + Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; + Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow + Of bragging horror; so shall inferior eyes, + That borrow their behaviours from the great, + Grow great by your example and put on + The dauntless spirit of resolution. + Away, and glister like the god of war + When he intendeth to become the field; + Show boldness and aspiring confidence. + What, shall they seek the lion in his den, + And fright him there, and make him tremble there? + O, let it not be said! Forage, and run + To meet displeasure farther from the doors + And grapple with him ere he come so nigh. + KING JOHN. The legate of the Pope hath been with me, + And I have made a happy peace with him; + And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers + Led by the Dauphin. + BASTARD. O inglorious league! + Shall we, upon the footing of our land, + Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, + Insinuation, parley, and base truce, + To arms invasive? Shall a beardless boy, + A cock'red silken wanton, brave our fields + And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, + Mocking the air with colours idly spread, + And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms. + Perchance the Cardinal cannot make your peace; + Or, if he do, let it at least be said + They saw we had a purpose of defence. + KING JOHN. Have thou the ordering of this present time. + BASTARD. Away, then, with good courage! + Yet, I know + Our party may well meet a prouder foe. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. +England. The DAUPHIN'S camp at Saint Edmundsbury + +Enter, in arms, LEWIS, SALISBURY, MELUN, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and soldiers + + LEWIS. My Lord Melun, let this be copied out + And keep it safe for our remembrance; + Return the precedent to these lords again, + That, having our fair order written down, + Both they and we, perusing o'er these notes, + May know wherefore we took the sacrament, + And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. + SALISBURY. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. + And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear + A voluntary zeal and an unurg'd faith + To your proceedings; yet, believe me, Prince, + I am not glad that such a sore of time + Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt, + And heal the inveterate canker of one wound + By making many. O, it grieves my soul + That I must draw this metal from my side + To be a widow-maker! O, and there + Where honourable rescue and defence + Cries out upon the name of Salisbury! + But such is the infection of the time + That, for the health and physic of our right, + We cannot deal but with the very hand + Of stern injustice and confused wrong. + And is't not pity, O my grieved friends! + That we, the sons and children of this isle, + Were born to see so sad an hour as this; + Wherein we step after a stranger-march + Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up + Her enemies' ranks-I must withdraw and weep + Upon the spot of this enforced cause- + To grace the gentry of a land remote + And follow unacquainted colours here? + What, here? O nation, that thou couldst remove! + That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about, + Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself + And grapple thee unto a pagan shore, + Where these two Christian armies might combine + The blood of malice in a vein of league, + And not to spend it so unneighbourly! + LEWIS. A noble temper dost thou show in this; + And great affections wrestling in thy bosom + Doth make an earthquake of nobility. + O, what a noble combat hast thou fought + Between compulsion and a brave respect! + Let me wipe off this honourable dew + That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks. + My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, + Being an ordinary inundation; + But this effusion of such manly drops, + This show'r, blown up by tempest of the soul, + Startles mine eyes and makes me more amaz'd + Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven + Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. + Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, + And with a great heart heave away this storm; + Commend these waters to those baby eyes + That never saw the giant world enrag'd, + Nor met with fortune other than at feasts, + Full of warm blood, of mirth, of gossiping. + Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep + Into the purse of rich prosperity + As Lewis himself. So, nobles, shall you all, + That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. + + Enter PANDULPH + + And even there, methinks, an angel spake: + Look where the holy legate comes apace, + To give us warrant from the hand of heaven + And on our actions set the name of right + With holy breath. + PANDULPH. Hail, noble prince of France! + The next is this: King John hath reconcil'd + Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in, + That so stood out against the holy Church, + The great metropolis and see of Rome. + Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up + And tame the savage spirit of wild war, + That, like a lion fostered up at hand, + It may lie gently at the foot of peace + And be no further harmful than in show. + LEWIS. Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not back: + I am too high-born to be propertied, + To be a secondary at control, + Or useful serving-man and instrument + To any sovereign state throughout the world. + Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars + Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself + And brought in matter that should feed this fire; + And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out + With that same weak wind which enkindled it. + You taught me how to know the face of right, + Acquainted me with interest to this land, + Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart; + And come ye now to tell me John hath made + His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? + I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, + After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; + And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back + Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? + Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne, + What men provided, what munition sent, + To underprop this action? Is 't not I + That undergo this charge? Who else but I, + And such as to my claim are liable, + Sweat in this business and maintain this war? + Have I not heard these islanders shout out + 'Vive le roi!' as I have bank'd their towns? + Have I not here the best cards for the game + To will this easy match, play'd for a crown? + And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? + No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said. + PANDULPH. You look but on the outside of this work. + LEWIS. Outside or inside, I will not return + Till my attempt so much be glorified + As to my ample hope was promised + Before I drew this gallant head of war, + And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world + To outlook conquest, and to will renown + Even in the jaws of danger and of death. + [Trumpet sounds] + What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? + + Enter the BASTARD, attended + + BASTARD. According to the fair play of the world, + Let me have audience: I am sent to speak. + My holy lord of Milan, from the King + I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; + And, as you answer, I do know the scope + And warrant limited unto my tongue. + PANDULPH. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, + And will not temporize with my entreaties; + He flatly says he'll not lay down his arms. + BASTARD. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, + The youth says well. Now hear our English King; + For thus his royalty doth speak in me. + He is prepar'd, and reason too he should. + This apish and unmannerly approach, + This harness'd masque and unadvised revel + This unhair'd sauciness and boyish troops, + The King doth smile at; and is well prepar'd + To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, + From out the circle of his territories. + That hand which had the strength, even at your door. + To cudgel you and make you take the hatch, + To dive like buckets in concealed wells, + To crouch in litter of your stable planks, + To lie like pawns lock'd up in chests and trunks, + To hug with swine, to seek sweet safety out + In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake + Even at the crying of your nation's crow, + Thinking this voice an armed Englishman- + Shall that victorious hand be feebled here + That in your chambers gave you chastisement? + No. Know the gallant monarch is in arms + And like an eagle o'er his aery tow'rs + To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. + And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, + You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb + Of your dear mother England, blush for shame; + For your own ladies and pale-visag'd maids, + Like Amazons, come tripping after drums, + Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, + Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts + To fierce and bloody inclination. + LEWIS. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace; + We grant thou canst outscold us. Fare thee well; + We hold our time too precious to be spent + With such a brabbler. + PANDULPH. Give me leave to speak. + BASTARD. No, I will speak. + LEWIS. We will attend to neither. + Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war, + Plead for our interest and our being here. + BASTARD. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out; + And so shall you, being beaten. Do but start + And echo with the clamour of thy drum, + And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd + That shall reverberate all as loud as thine: + Sound but another, and another shall, + As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear + And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder; for at hand- + Not trusting to this halting legate here, + Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need- + Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits + A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day + To feast upon whole thousands of the French. + LEWIS. Strike up our drums to find this danger out. + BASTARD. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +England. The field of battle + +Alarums. Enter KING JOHN and HUBERT + + KING JOHN. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert. + HUBERT. Badly, I fear. How fares your Majesty? + KING JOHN. This fever that hath troubled me so long + Lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick! + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, + Desires your Majesty to leave the field + And send him word by me which way you go. + KING JOHN. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. + MESSENGER. Be of good comfort; for the great supply + That was expected by the Dauphin here + Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin Sands; + This news was brought to Richard but even now. + The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. + KING JOHN. Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me up + And will not let me welcome this good news. + Set on toward Swinstead; to my litter straight; + Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +England. Another part of the battlefield + +Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, and BIGOT + + SALISBURY. I did not think the King so stor'd with friends. + PEMBROKE. Up once again; put spirit in the French; + If they miscarry, we miscarry too. + SALISBURY. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, + In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. + PEMBROKE. They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field. + + Enter MELUN, wounded + + MELUN. Lead me to the revolts of England here. + SALISBURY. When we were happy we had other names. + PEMBROKE. It is the Count Melun. + SALISBURY. Wounded to death. + MELUN. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold; + Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, + And welcome home again discarded faith. + Seek out King John, and fall before his feet; + For if the French be lords of this loud day, + He means to recompense the pains you take + By cutting off your heads. Thus hath he sworn, + And I with him, and many moe with me, + Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury; + Even on that altar where we swore to you + Dear amity and everlasting love. + SALISBURY. May this be possible? May this be true? + MELUN. Have I not hideous death within my view, + Retaining but a quantity of life, + Which bleeds away even as a form of wax + Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire? + What in the world should make me now deceive, + Since I must lose the use of all deceit? + Why should I then be false, since it is true + That I must die here, and live hence by truth? + I say again, if Lewis do will the day, + He is forsworn if e'er those eyes of yours + Behold another day break in the east; + But even this night, whose black contagious breath + Already smokes about the burning crest + Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, + Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, + Paying the fine of rated treachery + Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives. + If Lewis by your assistance win the day. + Commend me to one Hubert, with your King; + The love of him-and this respect besides, + For that my grandsire was an Englishman- + Awakes my conscience to confess all this. + In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence + From forth the noise and rumour of the field, + Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts + In peace, and part this body and my soul + With contemplation and devout desires. + SALISBURY. We do believe thee; and beshrew my soul + But I do love the favour and the form + Of this most fair occasion, by the which + We will untread the steps of damned flight, + And like a bated and retired flood, + Leaving our rankness and irregular course, + Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, + And calmly run on in obedience + Even to our ocean, to great King John. + My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; + For I do see the cruel pangs of death + Right in thine eye. Away, my friends! New flight, + And happy newness, that intends old right. + Exeunt, leading off MELUN + + + + +SCENE 5. + +England. The French camp + +Enter LEWIS and his train + + LEWIS. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set, + But stay'd and made the western welkin blush, + When English measure backward their own ground + In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, + When with a volley of our needless shot, + After such bloody toil, we bid good night; + And wound our tott'ring colours clearly up, + Last in the field and almost lords of it! + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Where is my prince, the Dauphin? + LEWIS. Here; what news? + MESSENGER. The Count Melun is slain; the English lords + By his persuasion are again fall'n off, + And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, + Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands. + LEWIS. Ah, foul shrewd news! Beshrew thy very heart! + I did not think to be so sad to-night + As this hath made me. Who was he that said + King John did fly an hour or two before + The stumbling night did part our weary pow'rs? + MESSENGER. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. + LEWIS. keep good quarter and good care to-night; + The day shall not be up so soon as I + To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 6. + +An open place wear Swinstead Abbey + +Enter the BASTARD and HUBERT, severally + + HUBERT. Who's there? Speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot. + BASTARD. A friend. What art thou? + HUBERT. Of the part of England. + BASTARD. Whither dost thou go? + HUBERT. What's that to thee? Why may I not demand + Of thine affairs as well as thou of mine? + BASTARD. Hubert, I think. + HUBERT. Thou hast a perfect thought. + I will upon all hazards well believe + Thou art my friend that know'st my tongue so well. + Who art thou? + BASTARD. Who thou wilt. And if thou please, + Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think + I come one way of the Plantagenets. + HUBERT. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless night + Have done me shame. Brave soldier, pardon me + That any accent breaking from thy tongue + Should scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. + BASTARD. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad? + HUBERT. Why, here walk I in the black brow of night + To find you out. + BASTARD. Brief, then; and what's the news? + HUBERT. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, + Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. + BASTARD. Show me the very wound of this ill news; + I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. + HUBERT. The King, I fear, is poison'd by a monk; + I left him almost speechless and broke out + To acquaint you with this evil, that you might + The better arm you to the sudden time + Than if you had at leisure known of this. + BASTARD. How did he take it; who did taste to him? + HUBERT. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain, + Whose bowels suddenly burst out. The King + Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover. + BASTARD. Who didst thou leave to tend his Majesty? + HUBERT. Why, know you not? The lords are all come back, + And brought Prince Henry in their company; + At whose request the King hath pardon'd them, + And they are all about his Majesty. + BASTARD. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, + And tempt us not to bear above our power! + I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, + Passing these flats, are taken by the tide- + These Lincoln Washes have devoured them; + Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd. + Away, before! conduct me to the King; + I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 7. + +The orchard at Swinstead Abbey + +Enter PRINCE HENRY, SALISBURY, and BIGOT + + PRINCE HENRY. It is too late; the life of all his blood + Is touch'd corruptibly, and his pure brain. + Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house, + Doth by the idle comments that it makes + Foretell the ending of mortality. + + Enter PEMBROKE + + PEMBROKE. His Highness yet doth speak, and holds belief + That, being brought into the open air, + It would allay the burning quality + Of that fell poison which assaileth him. + PRINCE HENRY. Let him be brought into the orchard here. + Doth he still rage? Exit BIGOT + PEMBROKE. He is more patient + Than when you left him; even now he sung. + PRINCE HENRY. O vanity of sickness! Fierce extremes + In their continuance will not feel themselves. + Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, + Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now + Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds + With many legions of strange fantasies, + Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, + Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should sing. + I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan + Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, + And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings + His soul and body to their lasting rest. + SALISBURY. Be of good comfort, Prince; for you are born + To set a form upon that indigest + Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. + + Re-enter BIGOT and attendants, who bring in + KING JOHN in a chair + + KING JOHN. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; + It would not out at windows nor at doors. + There is so hot a summer in my bosom + That all my bowels crumble up to dust. + I am a scribbled form drawn with a pen + Upon a parchment, and against this fire + Do I shrink up. + PRINCE HENRY. How fares your Majesty? + KING JOHN. Poison'd-ill-fare! Dead, forsook, cast off; + And none of you will bid the winter come + To thrust his icy fingers in my maw, + Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course + Through my burn'd bosom, nor entreat the north + To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips + And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much; + I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait + And so ingrateful you deny me that. + PRINCE HENRY. O that there were some virtue in my tears, + That might relieve you! + KING JOHN. The salt in them is hot. + Within me is a hell; and there the poison + Is as a fiend confin'd to tyrannize + On unreprievable condemned blood. + + Enter the BASTARD + + BASTARD. O, I am scalded with my violent motion + And spleen of speed to see your Majesty! + KING JOHN. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye! + The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burnt, + And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail + Are turned to one thread, one little hair; + My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, + Which holds but till thy news be uttered; + And then all this thou seest is but a clod + And module of confounded royalty. + BASTARD. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, + Where God He knows how we shall answer him; + For in a night the best part of my pow'r, + As I upon advantage did remove, + Were in the Washes all unwarily + Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The KING dies] + SALISBURY. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. + My liege! my lord! But now a king-now thus. + PRINCE HENRY. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. + What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, + When this was now a king, and now is clay? + BASTARD. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind + To do the office for thee of revenge, + And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, + As it on earth hath been thy servant still. + Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres, + Where be your pow'rs? Show now your mended faiths, + And instantly return with me again + To push destruction and perpetual shame + Out of the weak door of our fainting land. + Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; + The Dauphin rages at our very heels. + SALISBURY. It seems you know not, then, so much as we: + The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, + Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, + And brings from him such offers of our peace + As we with honour and respect may take, + With purpose presently to leave this war. + BASTARD. He will the rather do it when he sees + Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. + SALISBURY. Nay, 'tis in a manner done already; + For many carriages he hath dispatch'd + To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel + To the disposing of the Cardinal; + With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, + If you think meet, this afternoon will post + To consummate this business happily. + BASTARD. Let it be so. And you, my noble Prince, + With other princes that may best be spar'd, + Shall wait upon your father's funeral. + PRINCE HENRY. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; + For so he will'd it. + BASTARD. Thither shall it, then; + And happily may your sweet self put on + The lineal state and glory of the land! + To whom, with all submission, on my knee + I do bequeath my faithful services + And true subjection everlastingly. + SALISBURY. And the like tender of our love we make, + To rest without a spot for evermore. + PRINCE HENRY. I have a kind soul that would give you thanks, + And knows not how to do it but with tears. + BASTARD. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, + Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. + This England never did, nor never shall, + Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, + But when it first did help to wound itself. + Now these her princes are come home again, + Come the three corners of the world in arms, + And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, + If England to itself do rest but true. Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + + +1599 + + +THE TRAGEDY OF JULIUS CAESAR + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + JULIUS CAESAR, Roman statesman and general + OCTAVIUS, Triumvir after Caesar's death, later Augustus Caesar, + first emperor of Rome + MARK ANTONY, general and friend of Caesar, a Triumvir after his death + LEPIDUS, third member of the Triumvirate + MARCUS BRUTUS, leader of the conspiracy against Caesar + CASSIUS, instigator of the conspiracy + CASCA, conspirator against Caesar + TREBONIUS, " " " + CAIUS LIGARIUS, " " " + DECIUS BRUTUS, " " " + METELLUS CIMBER, " " " + CINNA, " " " + CALPURNIA, wife of Caesar + PORTIA, wife of Brutus + CICERO, senator + POPILIUS, " + POPILIUS LENA, " + FLAVIUS, tribune + MARULLUS, tribune + CATO, supportor of Brutus + LUCILIUS, " " " + TITINIUS, " " " + MESSALA, " " " + VOLUMNIUS, " " " + ARTEMIDORUS, a teacher of rhetoric + CINNA, a poet + VARRO, servant to Brutus + CLITUS, " " " + CLAUDIO, " " " + STRATO, " " " + LUCIUS, " " " + DARDANIUS, " " " + PINDARUS, servant to Cassius + The Ghost of Caesar + A Soothsayer + A Poet + Senators, Citizens, Soldiers, Commoners, Messengers, and Servants + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: Rome, the conspirators' camp near Sardis, and the plains of Philippi. + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Rome. A street. + +Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners. + + FLAVIUS. Hence, home, you idle creatures, get you home. + Is this a holiday? What, know you not, + Being mechanical, you ought not walk + Upon a laboring day without the sign + Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou? + FIRST COMMONER. Why, sir, a carpenter. + MARULLUS. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? + What dost thou with thy best apparel on? + You, sir, what trade are you? + SECOND COMMONER. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am + but, as you would say, a cobbler. + MARULLUS. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly. + SECOND COMMONER. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe + conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. + MARULLUS. What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade? + SECOND COMMONER. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, + if you be out, sir, I can mend you. + MARULLUS. What mean'st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow! + SECOND COMMONER. Why, sir, cobble you. + FLAVIUS. Thou art a cobbler, art thou? + SECOND COMMONER. Truly, Sir, all that I live by is with the awl; I + meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with + awl. I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in + great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon + neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork. + FLAVIUS. But wherefore art not in thy shop today? + Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? + SECOND COMMONER. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes to get myself + into more work. But indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Caesar + and to rejoice in his triumph. + MARULLUS. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? + What tributaries follow him to Rome + To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? + You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! + O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, + Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft + Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, + To towers and windows, yea, to chimney tops, + Your infants in your arms, and there have sat + The livelong day with patient expectation + To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome. + And when you saw his chariot but appear, + Have you not made an universal shout + That Tiber trembled underneath her banks + To hear the replication of your sounds + Made in her concave shores? + And do you now put on your best attire? + And do you now cull out a holiday? + And do you now strew flowers in his way + That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? + Be gone! + Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, + Pray to the gods to intermit the plague + That needs must light on this ingratitude. + FLAVIUS. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, + Assemble all the poor men of your sort, + Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears + Into the channel, till the lowest stream + Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. + Exeunt all Commoners. + See whether their basest metal be not moved; + They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. + Go you down that way towards the Capitol; + This way will I. Disrobe the images + If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. + MARULLUS. May we do so? + You know it is the feast of Lupercal. + FLAVIUS. It is no matter; let no images + Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about + And drive away the vulgar from the streets; + So do you too, where you perceive them thick. + These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing + Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, + Who else would soar above the view of men + And keep us all in servile fearfulness. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +A public place. + +Flourish. Enter Caesar; Antony, for the course; Calpurnia, Portia, +Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, and Casca; a great crowd follows, +among them a Soothsayer. + + CAESAR. Calpurnia! + CASCA. Peace, ho! Caesar speaks. + Music ceases. + CAESAR. Calpurnia! + CALPURNIA. Here, my lord. + CAESAR. Stand you directly in Antonio's way, + When he doth run his course. Antonio! + ANTONY. Caesar, my lord? + CAESAR. Forget not in your speed, Antonio, + To touch Calpurnia, for our elders say + The barren, touched in this holy chase, + Shake off their sterile curse. + ANTONY. I shall remember. + When Caesar says "Do this," it is perform'd. + CAESAR. Set on, and leave no ceremony out. Flourish. + SOOTHSAYER. Caesar! + CAESAR. Ha! Who calls? + CASCA. Bid every noise be still. Peace yet again! + CAESAR. Who is it in the press that calls on me? + I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, + Cry "Caesar." Speak, Caesar is turn'd to hear. + SOOTHSAYER. Beware the ides of March. + CAESAR. What man is that? + BRUTUS. A soothsayer you beware the ides of March. + CAESAR. Set him before me let me see his face. + CASSIUS. Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar. + CAESAR. What say'st thou to me now? Speak once again. + SOOTHSAYER. Beware the ides of March. + CAESAR. He is a dreamer; let us leave him. Pass. + Sennet. Exeunt all but Brutus and Cassius. + CASSIUS. Will you go see the order of the course? + BRUTUS. Not I. + CASSIUS. I pray you, do. + BRUTUS. I am not gamesome; I do lack some part + Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. + Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; + I'll leave you. + CASSIUS. Brutus, I do observe you now of late; + I have not from your eyes that gentleness + And show of love as I was wont to have; + You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand + Over your friend that loves you. + BRUTUS. Cassius, + Be not deceived; if I have veil'd my look, + I turn the trouble of my countenance + Merely upon myself. Vexed I am + Of late with passions of some difference, + Conceptions only proper to myself, + Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors; + But let not therefore my good friends be grieved- + Among which number, Cassius, be you one- + Nor construe any further my neglect + Than that poor Brutus with himself at war + Forgets the shows of love to other men. + CASSIUS. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion, + By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried + Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. + Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? + BRUTUS. No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself + But by reflection, by some other things. + CASSIUS. 'Tis just, + And it is very much lamented, Brutus, + That you have no such mirrors as will turn + Your hidden worthiness into your eye + That you might see your shadow. I have heard + Where many of the best respect in Rome, + Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus + And groaning underneath this age's yoke, + Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes. + BRUTUS. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, + That you would have me seek into myself + For that which is not in me? + CASSIUS. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear, + And since you know you cannot see yourself + So well as by reflection, I your glass + Will modestly discover to yourself + That of yourself which you yet know not of. + And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus; + Were I a common laugher, or did use + To stale with ordinary oaths my love + To every new protester, if you know + That I do fawn on men and hug them hard + And after scandal them, or if you know + That I profess myself in banqueting + To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. + Flourish and shout. + BRUTUS. What means this shouting? I do fear the people + Choose Caesar for their king. + CASSIUS. Ay, do you fear it? + Then must I think you would not have it so. + BRUTUS. I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well. + But wherefore do you hold me here so long? + What is it that you would impart to me? + If it be aught toward the general good, + Set honor in one eye and death i' the other + And I will look on both indifferently. + For let the gods so speed me as I love + The name of honor more than I fear death. + CASSIUS. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, + As well as I do know your outward favor. + Well, honor is the subject of my story. + I cannot tell what you and other men + Think of this life, but, for my single self, + I had as lief not be as live to be + In awe of such a thing as I myself. + I was born free as Caesar, so were you; + We both have fed as well, and we can both + Endure the winter's cold as well as he. + For once, upon a raw and gusty day, + The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, + Caesar said to me, "Darest thou, Cassius, now + Leap in with me into this angry flood + And swim to yonder point?" Upon the word, + Accoutred as I was, I plunged in + And bade him follow. So indeed he did. + The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it + With lusty sinews, throwing it aside + And stemming it with hearts of controversy. + But ere we could arrive the point proposed, + Caesar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink! + I, as Aeneas our great ancestor + Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder + The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber + Did I the tired Caesar. And this man + Is now become a god, and Cassius is + A wretched creature and must bend his body + If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. + He had a fever when he was in Spain, + And when the fit was on him I did mark + How he did shake. 'Tis true, this god did shake; + His coward lips did from their color fly, + And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world + Did lose his luster. I did hear him groan. + Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans + Mark him and write his speeches in their books, + Alas, it cried, "Give me some drink, Titinius," + As a sick girl. Ye gods! It doth amaze me + A man of such a feeble temper should + So get the start of the majestic world + And bear the palm alone. Shout. Flourish. + BRUTUS. Another general shout! + I do believe that these applauses are + For some new honors that are heap'd on Caesar. + CASSIUS. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world + Like a Colossus, and we petty men + Walk under his huge legs and peep about + To find ourselves dishonorable graves. + Men at some time are masters of their fates: + The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, + But in ourselves that we are underlings. + Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that "Caesar"? + Why should that name be sounded more than yours? + Write them together, yours is as fair a name; + Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; + Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, + "Brutus" will start a spirit as soon as "Caesar." + Now, in the names of all the gods at once, + Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed + That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed! + Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! + When went there by an age since the great flood + But it was famed with more than with one man? + When could they say till now that talk'd of Rome + That her wide walls encompass'd but one man? + Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough, + When there is in it but one only man. + O, you and I have heard our fathers say + There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd + The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome + As easily as a king. + BRUTUS. That you do love me, I am nothing jealous; + What you would work me to, I have some aim. + How I have thought of this and of these times, + I shall recount hereafter; for this present, + I would not, so with love I might entreat you, + Be any further moved. What you have said + I will consider; what you have to say + I will with patience hear, and find a time + Both meet to hear and answer such high things. + Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: + Brutus had rather be a villager + Than to repute himself a son of Rome + Under these hard conditions as this time + Is like to lay upon us. + CASSIUS. I am glad that my weak words + Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus. + + Re-enter Caesar and his Train. + + BRUTUS. The games are done, and Caesar is returning. + CASSIUS. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve, + And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you + What hath proceeded worthy note today. + BRUTUS. I will do so. But, look you, Cassius, + The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow, + And all the rest look like a chidden train: + Calpurnia's cheek is pale, and Cicero + Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes + As we have seen him in the Capitol, + Being cross'd in conference by some senators. + CASSIUS. Casca will tell us what the matter is. + CAESAR. Antonio! + ANTONY. Caesar? + CAESAR. Let me have men about me that are fat, + Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights: + Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; + He thinks too much; such men are dangerous. + ANTONY. Fear him not, Caesar; he's not dangerous; + He is a noble Roman and well given. + CAESAR. Would he were fatter! But I fear him not, + Yet if my name were liable to fear, + I do not know the man I should avoid + So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much, + He is a great observer, and he looks + Quite through the deeds of men. He loves no plays, + As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; + Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort + As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit + That could be moved to smile at anything. + Such men as he be never at heart's ease + Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, + And therefore are they very dangerous. + I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd + Than what I fear, for always I am Caesar. + Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, + And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. + Sennet. Exeunt Caesar and all his Train but Casca. + CASCA. You pull'd me by the cloak; would you speak with me? + BRUTUS. Ay, Casca, tell us what hath chanced today + That Caesar looks so sad. + CASCA. Why, you were with him, were you not? + BRUTUS. I should not then ask Casca what had chanced. + CASCA. Why, there was a crown offered him, and being offered him, + he put it by with the back of his hand, thus, and then the + people fell ashouting. + BRUTUS. What was the second noise for? + CASCA. Why, for that too. + CASSIUS. They shouted thrice. What was the last cry for? + CASCA. Why, for that too. + BRUTUS. Was the crown offered him thrice? + CASCA. Ay, marry, wast, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler + than other, and at every putting by mine honest neighbors + shouted. + CASSIUS. Who offered him the crown? + CASCA. Why, Antony. + BRUTUS. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. + CASCA. I can as well be hang'd as tell the manner of it. It was + mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a + crown (yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these + coronets) and, as I told you, he put it by once. But for all + that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered + it to him again; then he put it by again. But, to my thinking, he + was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it + the third time; he put it the third time by; and still as he + refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their chopped hands + and threw up their sweaty nightcaps and uttered such a deal of + stinking breath because Caesar refused the crown that it had + almost choked Caesar, for he swounded and fell down at it. And + for mine own part, I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips + and receiving the bad air. + CASSIUS. But, soft, I pray you, what, did Caesars wound? + CASCA. He fell down in the marketplace and foamed at mouth and was + speechless. + BRUTUS. 'Tis very like. He hath the falling sickness. + CASSIUS. No, Caesar hath it not, but you, and I, + And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness. + CASCA. I know not what you mean by that, but I am sure Caesar fell + down. If the tagrag people did not clap him and hiss him + according as he pleased and displeased them, as they use to do + the players in the theatre, I am no true man. + BRUTUS. What said he when he came unto himself? + CASCA. Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common + herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet + and offered them his throat to cut. An had been a man of any + occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I + might go to hell among the rogues. And so he fell. When he came + to himself again, he said, if he had done or said anything amiss, + he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or + four wenches where I stood cried, "Alas, good soul!" and forgave + him with all their hearts. But there's no heed to be taken of + them; if Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done + no less. + BRUTUS. And after that he came, thus sad, away? + CASCA. Ay. + CASSIUS. Did Cicero say anything? + CASCA. Ay, he spoke Greek. + CASSIUS. To what effect? + CASCA. Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' the face + again; but those that understood him smiled at one another and + shook their heads; but for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I + could tell you more news too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling + scarfs off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fare you well. + There was more foolery yet, if could remember it. + CASSIUS. Will you sup with me tonight, Casca? + CASCA. No, I am promised forth. + CASSIUS. Will you dine with me tomorrow? + CASCA. Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your dinner worth + the eating. + CASSIUS. Good, I will expect you. + CASCA. Do so, farewell, both. Exit. + BRUTUS. What a blunt fellow is this grown to be! + He was quick mettle when he went to school. + CASSIUS. So is he now in execution + Of any bold or noble enterprise, + However he puts on this tardy form. + This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, + Which gives men stomach to digest his words + With better appetite. + BRUTUS. And so it is. For this time I will leave you. + Tomorrow, if you please to speak with me, + I will come home to you, or, if you will, + Come home to me and I will wait for you. + CASSIUS. I will do so. Till then, think of the world. + Exit Brutus. + Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see + Thy honorable mettle may be wrought + From that it is disposed; therefore it is meet + That noble minds keep ever with their likes; + For who so firm that cannot be seduced? + Caesar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus. + If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius, + He should not humor me. I will this night, + In several hands, in at his windows throw, + As if they came from several citizens, + Writings, all tending to the great opinion + That Rome holds of his name, wherein obscurely + Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at. + And after this let Caesar seat him sure; + For we will shake him, or worse days endure. Exit. + + + + +SCENE III. +A street. Thunder and lightning. + +Enter, from opposite sides, Casca, with his sword drawn, and Cicero. + + CICERO. Good even, Casca. Brought you Caesar home? + Why are you breathless, and why stare you so? + CASCA. Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth + Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero, + I have seen tempests when the scolding winds + Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen + The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam + To be exalted with the threatening clouds, + But never till tonight, never till now, + Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. + Either there is a civil strife in heaven, + Or else the world too saucy with the gods + Incenses them to send destruction. + CICERO. Why, saw you anything more wonderful? + CASCA. A common slave- you know him well by sight- + Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn + Like twenty torches join'd, and yet his hand + Not sensible of fire remain'd unscorch'd. + Besides- I ha' not since put up my sword- + Against the Capitol I met a lion, + Who glaz'd upon me and went surly by + Without annoying me. And there were drawn + Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women + Transformed with their fear, who swore they saw + Men all in fire walk up and down the streets. + And yesterday the bird of night did sit + Even at noonday upon the marketplace, + Howling and shrieking. When these prodigies + Do so conjointly meet, let not men say + "These are their reasons; they are natural": + For I believe they are portentous things + Unto the climate that they point upon. + CICERO. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time. + But men may construe things after their fashion, + Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. + Comes Caesar to the Capitol tomorrow? + CASCA. He doth, for he did bid Antonio + Send word to you he would be there tomorrow. + CICERO. Good then, Casca. This disturbed sky + Is not to walk in. + CASCA. Farewell, Cicero. Exit Cicero. + + Enter Cassius. + + CASSIUS. Who's there? + CASCA. A Roman. + CASSIUS. Casca, by your voice. + CASCA. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this! + CASSIUS. A very pleasing night to honest men. + CASCA. Who ever knew the heavens menace so? + CASSIUS. Those that have known the earth so full of faults. + For my part, I have walk'd about the streets, + Submitting me unto the perilous night, + And thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, + Have bared my bosom to the thunderstone; + And when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open + The breast of heaven, I did present myself + Even in the aim and very flash of it. + CASCA. But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens? + It is the part of men to fear and tremble + When the most mighty gods by tokens send + Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. + CASSIUS. You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life + That should be in a Roman you do want, + Or else you use not. You look pale and gaze + And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder + To see the strange impatience of the heavens. + But if you would consider the true cause + Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts, + Why birds and beasts from quality and kind, + Why old men, fools, and children calculate, + Why all these things change from their ordinance, + Their natures, and preformed faculties + To monstrous quality, why, you shall find + That heaven hath infused them with these spirits + To make them instruments of fear and warning + Unto some monstrous state. + Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man + Most like this dreadful night, + That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars + As doth the lion in the Capitol, + A man no mightier than thyself or me + In personal action, yet prodigious grown + And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. + CASCA. 'Tis Caesar that you mean, is it not, Cassius? + CASSIUS. Let it be who it is, for Romans now + Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors. + But, woe the while! Our fathers' minds are dead, + And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits; + Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. + CASCA. Indeed they say the senators tomorrow + Mean to establish Caesar as a king, + And he shall wear his crown by sea and land + In every place save here in Italy. + CASSIUS. I know where I will wear this dagger then: + Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius. + Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong; + Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat. + Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, + Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron + Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; + But life, being weary of these worldly bars, + Never lacks power to dismiss itself. + If I know this, know all the world besides, + That part of tyranny that I do bear + I can shake off at pleasure. Thunder still. + CASCA. So can I. + So every bondman in his own hand bears + The power to cancel his captivity. + CASSIUS. And why should Caesar be a tyrant then? + Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf + But that he sees the Romans are but sheep. + He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. + Those that with haste will make a mighty fire + Begin it with weak straws. What trash is Rome, + What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves + For the base matter to illuminate + So vile a thing as Caesar? But, O grief, + Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this + Before a willing bondman; then I know + My answer must be made. But I am arm'd, + And dangers are to me indifferent. + CASCA. You speak to Casca, and to such a man + That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand. + Be factious for redress of all these griefs, + And I will set this foot of mine as far + As who goes farthest. + CASSIUS. There's a bargain made. + Now know you, Casca, I have moved already + Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans + To undergo with me an enterprise + Of honorable-dangerous consequence; + And I do know by this, they stay for me + In Pompey's Porch. For now, this fearful night, + There is no stir or walking in the streets, + And the complexion of the element + In favor's like the work we have in hand, + Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. + + Enter Cinna. + + CASCA. Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste. + CASSIUS. 'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait; + He is a friend. Cinna, where haste you so? + CINNA. To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber? + CASSIUS. No, it is Casca, one incorporate + To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna? + CINNA. I am glad on't. What a fearful night is this! + There's two or three of us have seen strange sights. + CASSIUS. Am I not stay'd for? Tell me. + CINNA. Yes, you are. + O Cassius, if you could + But win the noble Brutus to our party- + CASSIUS. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper, + And look you lay it in the praetor's chair, + Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this + In at his window; set this up with wax + Upon old Brutus' statue. All this done, + Repair to Pompey's Porch, where you shall find us. + Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? + CINNA. All but Metellus Cimber, and he's gone + To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie + And so bestow these papers as you bade me. + CASSIUS. That done, repair to Pompey's Theatre. + Exit Cinna. + Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day + See Brutus at his house. Three parts of him + Is ours already, and the man entire + Upon the next encounter yields him ours. + CASCA. O, he sits high in all the people's hearts, + And that which would appear offense in us, + His countenance, like richest alchemy, + Will change to virtue and to worthiness. + CASSIUS. Him and his worth and our great need of him + You have right well conceited. Let us go, + For it is after midnight, and ere day + We will awake him and be sure of him. Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. + +Enter Brutus in his orchard. + + BRUTUS. What, Lucius, ho! + I cannot, by the progress of the stars, + Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say! + I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. + When, Lucius, when? Awake, I say! What, Lucius! + + Enter Lucius. + + LUCIUS. Call'd you, my lord? + BRUTUS. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius. + When it is lighted, come and call me here. + LUCIUS. I will, my lord. Exit. + BRUTUS. It must be by his death, and, for my part, + I know no personal cause to spurn at him, + But for the general. He would be crown'd: + How that might change his nature, there's the question. + It is the bright day that brings forth the adder + And that craves wary walking. Crown him that, + And then, I grant, we put a sting in him + That at his will he may do danger with. + The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins + Remorse from power, and, to speak truth of Caesar, + I have not known when his affections sway'd + More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof + That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, + Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; + But when he once attains the upmost round, + He then unto the ladder turns his back, + Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees + By which he did ascend. So Caesar may; + Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel + Will bear no color for the thing he is, + Fashion it thus, that what he is, augmented, + Would run to these and these extremities; + And therefore think him as a serpent's egg + Which hatch'd would as his kind grow mischievous, + And kill him in the shell. + + Re-enter Lucius. + + LUCIUS. The taper burneth in your closet, sir. + Searching the window for a flint I found + This paper thus seal'd up, and I am sure + It did not lie there when I went to bed. + Gives him the letter. + BRUTUS. Get you to bed again, it is not day. + Is not tomorrow, boy, the ides of March? + LUCIUS. I know not, sir. + BRUTUS. Look in the calendar and bring me word. + LUCIUS. I will, sir. Exit. + BRUTUS. The exhalations whizzing in the air + Give so much light that I may read by them. + Opens the letter and reads. + "Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake and see thyself! + Shall Rome, etc. Speak, strike, redress!" + + "Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake!" + Such instigations have been often dropp'd + Where I have took them up. + "Shall Rome, etc." Thus must I piece it out. + Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, Rome? + My ancestors did from the streets of Rome + The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king. + "Speak, strike, redress!" Am I entreated + To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise, + If the redress will follow, thou receivest + Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus! + + Re-enter Lucius. + + LUCIUS. Sir, March is wasted fifteen days. + Knocking within. + BRUTUS. 'Tis good. Go to the gate, somebody knocks. + Exit Lucius. + Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar + I have not slept. + Between the acting of a dreadful thing + And the first motion, all the interim is + Like a phantasma or a hideous dream; + The genius and the mortal instruments + Are then in council, and the state of man, + Like to a little kingdom, suffers then + The nature of an insurrection. + + Re-enter Lucius. + + LUCIUS. Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, + Who doth desire to see you. + BRUTUS. Is he alone? + LUCIUS. No, sir, there are more with him. + BRUTUS. Do you know them? + LUCIUS. No, sir, their hats are pluck'd about their ears, + And half their faces buried in their cloaks, + That by no means I may discover them + By any mark of favor. + BRUTUS. Let 'em enter. Exit Lucius. + They are the faction. O Conspiracy, + Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, + When evils are most free? O, then, by day + Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough + To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, Conspiracy; + Hide it in smiles and affability; + For if thou path, thy native semblance on, + Not Erebus itself were dim enough + To hide thee from prevention. + + Enter the conspirators, Cassius, Casca, Decius, Cinna, + Metellus Cimber, and Trebonius. + + CASSIUS. I think we are too bold upon your rest. + Good morrow, Brutus, do we trouble you? + BRUTUS. I have been up this hour, awake all night. + Know I these men that come along with you? + CASSIUS. Yes, every man of them, and no man here + But honors you, and every one doth wish + You had but that opinion of yourself + Which every noble Roman bears of you. + This is Trebonius. + BRUTUS. He is welcome hither. + CASSIUS. This, Decius Brutus. + BRUTUS. He is welcome too. +CASSIUS. This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber. + BRUTUS. They are all welcome. + What watchful cares do interpose themselves + Betwixt your eyes and night? + CASSIUS. Shall I entreat a word? They whisper. + DECIUS. Here lies the east. Doth not the day break here? + CASCA. No. + CINNA. O, pardon, sir, it doth, and yongrey lines + That fret the clouds are messengers of day. + CASCA. You shall confess that you are both deceived. + Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises, + Which is a great way growing on the south, + Weighing the youthful season of the year. + Some two months hence up higher toward the north + He first presents his fire, and the high east + Stands as the Capitol, directly here. + BRUTUS. Give me your hands all over, one by one. + CASSIUS. And let us swear our resolution. + BRUTUS. No, not an oath. If not the face of men, + The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse- + If these be motives weak, break off betimes, + And every man hence to his idle bed; + So let high-sighted tyranny range on + Till each man drop by lottery. But if these, + As I am sure they do, bear fire enough + To kindle cowards and to steel with valor + The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, + What need we any spur but our own cause + To prick us to redress? What other bond + Than secret Romans that have spoke the word + And will not palter? And what other oath + Than honesty to honesty engaged + That this shall be or we will fall for it? + Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous, + Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls + That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear + Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain + The even virtue of our enterprise, + Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits, + To think that or our cause or our performance + Did need an oath; when every drop of blood + That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, + Is guilty of a several bastardy + If he do break the smallest particle + Of any promise that hath pass'd from him. + CASSIUS. But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him? + I think he will stand very strong with us. + CASCA. Let us not leave him out. + CINNA. No, by no means. + METELLUS. O, let us have him, for his silver hairs + Will purchase us a good opinion, + And buy men's voices to commend our deeds. + It shall be said his judgement ruled our hands; + Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, + But all be buried in his gravity. + BRUTUS. O, name him not; let us not break with him, + For he will never follow anything + That other men begin. + CASSIUS. Then leave him out. + CASCA. Indeed he is not fit. + DECIUS. Shall no man else be touch'd but only Caesar? + CASSIUS. Decius, well urged. I think it is not meet + Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, + Should outlive Caesar. We shall find of him + A shrewd contriver; and you know his means, + If he improve them, may well stretch so far + As to annoy us all, which to prevent, + Let Antony and Caesar fall together. + BRUTUS. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, + To cut the head off and then hack the limbs + Like wrath in death and envy afterwards; + For Antony is but a limb of Caesar. + Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. + We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar, + And in the spirit of men there is no blood. + O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit, + And not dismember Caesar! But, alas, + Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends, + Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; + Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, + Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds; + And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, + Stir up their servants to an act of rage + And after seem to chide 'em. This shall make + Our purpose necessary and not envious, + Which so appearing to the common eyes, + We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers. + And for Mark Antony, think not of him, + For he can do no more than Caesar's arm + When Caesar's head is off. + CASSIUS. Yet I fear him, + For in the ingrated love he bears to Caesar- + BRUTUS. Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him. + If he love Caesar, all that he can do + Is to himself, take thought and die for Caesar. + And that were much he should, for he is given + To sports, to wildness, and much company. + TREBONIUS. There is no fear in him-let him not die, + For he will live and laugh at this hereafter. + Clock strikes. + BRUTUS. Peace, count the clock. + CASSIUS. The clock hath stricken three. + TREBONIUS. 'Tis time to part. + CASSIUS. But it is doubtful yet + Whether Caesar will come forth today or no, + For he is superstitious grown of late, + Quite from the main opinion he held once + Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies. + It may be these apparent prodigies, + The unaccustom'd terror of this night, + And the persuasion of his augurers + May hold him from the Capitol today. + DECIUS. Never fear that. If he be so resolved, + I can o'ersway him, for he loves to hear + That unicorns may be betray'd with trees, + And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, + Lions with toils, and men with flatterers; + But when I tell him he hates flatterers, + He says he does, being then most flattered. + Let me work; + For I can give his humor the true bent, + And I will bring him to the Capitol. + CASSIUS. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. + BRUTUS. By the eighth hour. Is that the utter most? + CINNA. Be that the uttermost, and fail not then. + METELLUS. Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard, + Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey. + I wonder none of you have thought of him. + BRUTUS. Now, good Metellus, go along by him. + He loves me well, and I have given him reasons; + Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him. + CASSIUS. The morning comes upon 's. We'll leave you, Brutus, + And, friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember + What you have said and show yourselves true Romans. + BRUTUS. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; + Let not our looks put on our purposes, + But bear it as our Roman actors do, + With untired spirits and formal constancy. + And so, good morrow to you every one. + Exeunt all but Brutus. + Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter. + Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber; + Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies, + Which busy care draws in the brains of men; + Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. + + Enter Portia. + + PORTIA. Brutus, my lord! + BRUTUS. Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now? + It is not for your health thus to commit + Your weak condition to the raw cold morning. + PORTIA. Nor for yours neither. have ungently, Brutus, + Stole from my bed; and yesternight at supper + You suddenly arose and walk'd about, + Musing and sighing, with your arms across; + And when I ask'd you what the matter was, + You stared upon me with ungentle looks. + I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head, + And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot. + Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not, + But with an angry waiter of your hand + Gave sign for me to leave you. So I did, + Fearing to strengthen that impatience + Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal + Hoping it was but an effect of humor, + Which sometime hath his hour with every man. + It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep, + And, could it work so much upon your shape + As it hath much prevail'd on your condition, + I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, + Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. + BRUTUS. I am not well in health, and that is all. + PORTIA. Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, + He would embrace the means to come by it. + BRUTUS. Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed. + PORTIA. Is Brutus sick, and is it physical + To walk unbraced and suck up the humors + Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, + And will he steal out of his wholesome bed + To dare the vile contagion of the night + And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air + To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus, + You have some sick offense within your mind, + Which by the right and virtue of my place + I ought to know of; and, upon my knees, + I charm you, by my once commended beauty, + By all your vows of love and that great vow + Which did incorporate and make us one, + That you unfold to me, yourself, your half, + Why you are heavy and what men tonight + Have had resort to you; for here have been + Some six or seven, who did hide their faces + Even from darkness. + BRUTUS. Kneel not, gentle Portia. + PORTIA. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. + Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, + Is it excepted I should know no secrets + That appertain to you? Am I yourself + But, as it were, in sort or limitation, + To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, + And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs + Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, + Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. + BRUTUS. You are my true and honorable wife, + As dear to me as are the ruddy drops + That visit my sad heart. + PORTIA. If this were true, then should I know this secret. + I grant I am a woman, but withal + A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife. + I grant I am a woman, but withal + A woman well reputed, Cato's daughter. + Think you I am no stronger than my sex, + Being so father'd and so husbanded? + Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em. + I have made strong proof of my constancy, + Giving myself a voluntary wound + Here in the thigh. Can I bear that with patience + And not my husband's secrets? + BRUTUS. O ye gods, + Render me worthy of this noble wife! Knocking within. + Hark, hark, one knocks. Portia, go in awhile, + And by and by thy bosom shall partake + The secrets of my heart. + All my engagements I will construe to thee, + All the charactery of my sad brows. + Leave me with haste. [Exit Portia.] Lucius, who's that knocks? + + Re-enter Lucius with Ligarius. + + LUCIUS. Here is a sick man that would speak with you. + BRUTUS. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. + Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how? + LIGARIUS. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. + BRUTUS. O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, + To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick! + LIGARIUS. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand + Any exploit worthy the name of honor. + BRUTUS. Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, + Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. + LIGARIUS. By all the gods that Romans bow before, + I here discard my sickness! Soul of Rome! + Brave son, derived from honorable loins! + Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up + My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, + And I will strive with things impossible, + Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? + BRUTUS. A piece of work that will make sick men whole. + LIGARIUS. But are not some whole that we must make sick? + BRUTUS. That must we also. What it is, my Caius, + I shall unfold to thee, as we are going + To whom it must be done. + LIGARIUS. Set on your foot, + And with a heart new-fired I follow you, + To do I know not what; but it sufficeth + That Brutus leads me on. + BRUTUS. Follow me then. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +Caesar's house. Thunder and lightning. + +Enter Caesar, in his nightgown. + + CAESAR. Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace tonight. + Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out, + "Help, ho! They murther Caesar!" Who's within? + + Enter a Servant. + + SERVANT. My lord? + CAESAR. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, + And bring me their opinions of success. + SERVANT. I will, my lord. Exit. + + Enter Calpurnia. + + CALPURNIA. What mean you, Caesar? Think you to walk forth? + You shall not stir out of your house today. + CAESAR. Caesar shall forth: the things that threaten'd me + Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see + The face of Caesar, they are vanished. + CALPURNIA. Caesar, I I stood on ceremonies, + Yet now they fright me. There is one within, + Besides the things that we have heard and seen, + Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. + A lioness hath whelped in the streets; + And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead; + Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, + In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, + Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol; + The noise of battle hurtled in the air, + Horses did neigh and dying men did groan, + And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets. + O Caesar! These things are beyond all use, + And I do fear them. + CAESAR. What can be avoided + Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods? + Yet Caesar shall go forth, for these predictions + Are to the world in general as to Caesar. + CALPURNIA. When beggars die, there are no comets seen; + The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. + CAESAR. Cowards die many times before their deaths; + The valiant never taste of death but once. + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + It seems to me most strange that men should fear + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + Will come when it will come. + + Re-enter Servant. + + What say the augurers? + SERVANT. They would not have you to stir forth today. + Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, + They could not find a heart within the beast. + CAESAR. The gods do this in shame of cowardice. + Caesar should be a beast without a heart + If he should stay at home today for fear. + No, Caesar shall not. Danger knows full well + That Caesar is more dangerous than he. + We are two lions litter'd in one day, + And I the elder and more terrible. + And Caesar shall go forth. + CALPURNIA. Alas, my lord, + Your wisdom is consumed in confidence. + Do not go forth today. Call it my fear + That keeps you in the house and not your own. + We'll send Mark Antony to the Senate House, + And he shall say you are not well today. + Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this. + CAESAR. Mark Antony shall say I am not well, + And, for thy humor, I will stay at home. + + Enter Decius. + + Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so. + DECIUS. Caesar, all hail! Good morrow, worthy Caesar! + I come to fetch you to the Senate House. + CAESAR. And you are come in very happy time + To bear my greeting to the senators + And tell them that I will not come today. + Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser: + I will not come today. Tell them so, Decius. + CALPURNIA. Say he is sick. + CAESAR. Shall Caesar send a lie? + Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far + To be afeard to tell greybeards the truth? + Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come. + DECIUS. Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause, + Lest I be laugh'd at when I tell them so. + CAESAR. The cause is in my will: I will not come, + That is enough to satisfy the Senate. + But, for your private satisfaction, + Because I love you, I will let you know. + Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home; + She dreamt tonight she saw my statue, + Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts, + Did run pure blood, and many lusty Romans + Came smiling and did bathe their hands in it. + And these does she apply for warnings and portents + And evils imminent, and on her knee + Hath begg'd that I will stay at home today. + DECIUS. This dream is all amiss interpreted; + It was a vision fair and fortunate. + Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, + In which so many smiling Romans bathed, + Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck + Reviving blood, and that great men shall press + For tinctures, stains, relics, and cognizance. + This by Calpurnia's dream is signified. + CAESAR. And this way have you well expounded it. + DECIUS. I have, when you have heard what I can say. + And know it now, the Senate have concluded + To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar. + If you shall send them word you will not come, + Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock + Apt to be render'd, for someone to say + "Break up the Senate till another time, + When Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams." + If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper + "Lo, Caesar is afraid"? + Pardon me, Caesar, for my dear dear love + To your proceeding bids me tell you this, + And reason to my love is liable. + CAESAR. How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia! + I am ashamed I did yield to them. + Give me my robe, for I will go. + + Enter Publius, Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Casca, + Trebonius, and Cinna. + + And look where Publius is come to fetch me. + PUBLIUS. Good morrow,Caesar. + CAESAR. Welcome, Publius. + What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too? + Good morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius, + Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy + As that same ague which hath made you lean. + What is't o'clock? + BRUTUS. Caesar, 'tis strucken eight. + CAESAR. I thank you for your pains and courtesy. + + Enter Antony. + + See, Antony, that revels long o' nights, + Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, Antony. + ANTONY. So to most noble Caesar. + CAESAR. Bid them prepare within. + I am to blame to be thus waited for. + Now, Cinna; now, Metellus; what, Trebonius, + I have an hour's talk in store for you; + Remember that you call on me today; + Be near me, that I may remember you. + TREBONIUS. Caesar, I will. [Aside.] And so near will I be + That your best friends shall wish I had been further. + CAESAR. Good friends, go in and taste some wine with me, + And we like friends will straightway go together. + BRUTUS. [Aside.] That every like is not the same, O Caesar, + The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon! Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +A street near the Capitol. + +Enter Artemidorus, reading paper. + + ARTEMIDORUS. "Caesar, beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius; come + not near Casca; have an eye to Cinna; trust not Trebonius; mark + well Metellus Cimber; Decius Brutus loves thee not; thou hast + wronged Caius Ligarius. There is but one mind in all these men, + and it is bent against Caesar. If thou beest not immortal, look + about you. Security gives way to conspiracy. The mighty gods + defend thee! + Thy lover, Artemidorus." + Here will I stand till Caesar pass along, + And as a suitor will I give him this. + My heart laments that virtue cannot live + Out of the teeth of emulation. + If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayest live; + If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive. Exit. + + + + +SCENE IV. +Another part of the same street, before the house of Brutus. + +Enter Portia and Lucius. + + PORTIA. I prithee, boy, run to the Senate House; + Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone. + Why dost thou stay? + LUCIUS. To know my errand, madam. + PORTIA. I would have had thee there, and here again, + Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there. + O constancy, be strong upon my side! + Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue! + I have a man's mind, but a woman's might. + How hard it is for women to keep counsel! + Art thou here yet? + LUCIUS. Madam, what should I do? + Run to the Capitol, and nothing else? + And so return to you, and nothing else? + PORTIA. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well, + For he went sickly forth; and take good note + What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him. + Hark, boy, what noise is that? + LUCIUS. I hear none, madam. + PORTIA. Prithee, listen well. + I heard a bustling rumor like a fray, + And the wind brings it from the Capitol. + LUCIUS. Sooth, madam, I hear nothing. + + Enter the Soothsayer. + + PORTIA. Come hither, fellow; + Which way hast thou been? + SOOTHSAYER. At mine own house, good lady. + PORTIA. What is't o'clock? + SOOTHSAYER. About the ninth hour, lady. + PORTIA. Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol? + SOOTHSAYER. Madam, not yet. I go to take my stand + To see him pass on to the Capitol. + PORTIA. Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not? + SOOTHSAYER. That I have, lady. If it will please Caesar + To be so good to Caesar as to hear me, + I shall beseech him to befriend himself. + PORTIA. Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him? + SOOTHSAYER. None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance. + Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow, + The throng that follows Caesar at the heels, + Of senators, of praetors, common suitors, + Will crowd a feeble man almost to death. + I'll get me to a place more void and there + Speak to great Caesar as he comes along. Exit. + PORTIA. I must go in. Ay me, how weak a thing + The heart of woman is! O Brutus, + The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise! + Sure, the boy heard me. Brutus hath a suit + That Caesar will not grant. O, I grow faint. + Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord; + Say I am merry. Come to me again, + And bring me word what he doth say to thee. + Exeunt severally. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting above. +A crowd of people, among them Artemidorus and the Soothsayer. + +Flourish. Enter Caesar, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Decius, Metellus, +Trebonius, Cinna, Antony, Lepidus, Popilius, Publius, and others. + + CAESAR. The ides of March are come. + SOOTHSAYER. Ay, Caesar, but not gone. + A Hail, Caesar! Read this schedule. + DECIUS. Trebonius doth desire you to o'er read, + At your best leisure, this his humble suit. + ARTEMIDORUS. O Caesar, read mine first, for mine's a suit + That touches Caesar nearer. Read it, great Caesar. + CAESAR. What touches us ourself shall be last served. + ARTEMIDORUS. Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly. + CAESAR. What, is the fellow mad? + PUBLIUS. Sirrah, give place. + CASSIUS. What, urge you your petitions in the street? + Come to the Capitol. + + Caesar goes up to the Senate House, the rest follow. + + POPILIUS. I wish your enterprise today may thrive. + CASSIUS. What enterprise, Popilius? + POPILIUS. Fare you well. + Advances to Caesar. + BRUTUS. What said Popilius Lena? + CASSIUS. He wish'd today our enterprise might thrive. + I fear our purpose is discovered. + BRUTUS. Look, how he makes to Caesar. Mark him. + CASSIUS. Casca, + Be sudden, for we fear prevention. + Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, + Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back, + For I will slay myself. + BRUTUS. Cassius, be constant. + Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; + For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change. + CASSIUS. Trebonius knows his time, for, look you, Brutus, + He draws Mark Antony out of the way. + Exeunt Antony and Trebonius. + DECIUS. Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him + And presently prefer his suit to Caesar. + BRUTUS. He is address'd; press near and second him. + CINNA. Casca, you are the first that rears your hand. + CAESAR. Are we all ready? What is now amiss + That Caesar and his Senate must redress? + METELLUS. Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar, + Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat + An humble heart. Kneels. + CAESAR. I must prevent thee, Cimber. + These couchings and these lowly courtesies + Might fire the blood of ordinary men + And turn preordinance and first decree + Into the law of children. Be not fond + To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood + That will be thaw'd from the true quality + With that which melteth fools- I mean sweet words, + Low-crooked court'sies, and base spaniel-fawning. + Thy brother by decree is banished. + If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him, + I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. + Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause + Will he be satisfied. + METELLUS. Is there no voice more worthy than my own, + To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear + For the repealing of my banish'd brother? + BRUTUS. I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar, + Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may + Have an immediate freedom of repeal. + CAESAR. What, Brutus? + CASSIUS. Pardon, Caesar! Caesar, pardon! + As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall + To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. + CAESAR. I could be well moved, if I were as you; + If I could pray to move, prayers would move me; + But I am constant as the northern star, + Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality + There is no fellow in the firmament. + The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks; + They are all fire and every one doth shine; + But there's but one in all doth hold his place. + So in the world, 'tis furnish'd well with men, + And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive; + Yet in the number I do know but one + That unassailable holds on his rank, + Unshaked of motion; and that I am he, + Let me a little show it, even in this; + That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd, + And constant do remain to keep him so. + CINNA. O Caesar- + CAESAR. Hence! Wilt thou lift up Olympus? + DECIUS. Great Caesar- + CAESAR. Doth not Brutus bootless kneel? + CASCA. Speak, hands, for me! + Casca first, then the other Conspirators + and Marcus Brutus stab Caesar. + CAESAR. Et tu, Brute?- Then fall, Caesar! Dies. + CINNA. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! + Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. + CASSIUS. Some to the common pulpits and cry out + "Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!" + BRUTUS. People and senators, be not affrighted, + Fly not, stand still; ambition's debt is paid. + CASCA. Go to the pulpit, Brutus. + DECIUS. And Cassius too. + BRUTUS. Where's Publius? + CINNA. Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. + METELLUS. Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar's + Should chance- + BRUTUS. Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer, + There is no harm intended to your person, + Nor to no Roman else. So tell them, Publius. + CASSIUS. And leave us, Publius, lest that the people + Rushing on us should do your age some mischief. + BRUTUS. Do so, and let no man abide this deed + But we the doers. + + Re-enter Trebonius. + + CASSIUS. Where is Antony? + TREBONIUS. Fled to his house amazed. + Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run + As it were doomsday. + BRUTUS. Fates, we will know your pleasures. + That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time + And drawing days out that men stand upon. + CASSIUS. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life + Cuts off so many years of fearing death. + BRUTUS. Grant that, and then is death a benefit; + So are we Caesar's friends that have abridged + His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop, + And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood + Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords; + Then walk we forth, even to the marketplace, + And waving our red weapons o'er our heads, + Let's all cry, "Peace, freedom, and liberty!" + CASSIUS. Stoop then, and wash. How many ages hence + Shall this our lofty scene be acted over + In states unborn and accents yet unknown! + BRUTUS. How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport, + That now on Pompey's basis lies along + No worthier than the dust! + CASSIUS. So oft as that shall be, + So often shall the knot of us be call'd + The men that gave their country liberty. + DECIUS. What, shall we forth? + CASSIUS. Ay, every man away. + Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels + With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome. + + Enter a Servant. + + BRUTUS. Soft, who comes here? A friend of Antony's. + SERVANT. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel, + Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down, + And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say: + Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest; + Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving. + Say I love Brutus and I honor him; + Say I fear'd Caesar, honor'd him, and loved him. + If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony + May safely come to him and be resolved + How Caesar hath deserved to lie in death, + Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead + So well as Brutus living, but will follow + The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus + Thorough the hazards of this untrod state + With all true faith. So says my master Antony. + BRUTUS. Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman; + I never thought him worse. + Tell him, so please him come unto this place, + He shall be satisfied and, by my honor, + Depart untouch'd. + SERVANT. I'll fetch him presently. Exit. + BRUTUS. I know that we shall have him well to friend. + CASSIUS. I wish we may, but yet have I a mind + That fears him much, and my misgiving still + Falls shrewdly to the purpose. + + Re-enter Antony. + + BRUTUS. But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony. + ANTONY. O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low? + Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, + Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well. + I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, + Who else must be let blood, who else is rank. + If I myself, there is no hour so fit + As Caesar's death's hour, nor no instrument + Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich + With the most noble blood of all this world. + I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, + Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, + Fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years, + I shall not find myself so apt to die; + No place will please me so, no means of death, + As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, + The choice and master spirits of this age. + BRUTUS. O Antony, beg not your death of us! + Though now we must appear bloody and cruel, + As, by our hands and this our present act + You see we do, yet see you but our hands + And this the bleeding business they have done. + Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful; + And pity to the general wrong of Rome- + As fire drives out fire, so pity pity- + Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part, + To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony; + Our arms in strength of malice, and our hearts + Of brothers' temper, do receive you in + With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. + CASSIUS. Your voice shall be as strong as any man's + In the disposing of new dignities. + BRUTUS. Only be patient till we have appeased + The multitude, beside themselves with fear, + And then we will deliver you the cause + Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him, + Have thus proceeded. + ANTONY. I doubt not of your wisdom. + Let each man render me his bloody hand. + First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you; + Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand; + Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus; + Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours; + Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius. + Gentlemen all- alas, what shall I say? + My credit now stands on such slippery ground, + That one of two bad ways you must conceit me, + Either a coward or a flatterer. + That I did love thee, Caesar, O, 'tis true! + If then thy spirit look upon us now, + Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death + To see thy Antony making his peace, + Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, + Most noble! In the presence of thy corse? + Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, + Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, + It would become me better than to close + In terms of friendship with thine enemies. + Pardon me, Julius! Here wast thou bay'd, brave hart, + Here didst thou fall, and here thy hunters stand, + Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy Lethe. + O world, thou wast the forest to this hart, + And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee. + How like a deer strucken by many princes + Dost thou here lie! + CASSIUS. Mark Antony- + ANTONY. Pardon me, Caius Cassius. + The enemies of Caesar shall say this: + Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. + CASSIUS. I blame you not for praising Caesar so; + But what compact mean you to have with us? + Will you be prick'd in number of our friends, + Or shall we on, and not depend on you? + ANTONY. Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed + Sway'd from the point by looking down on Caesar. + Friends am I with you all and love you all, + Upon this hope that you shall give me reasons + Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous. + BRUTUS. Or else were this a savage spectacle. + Our reasons are so full of good regard + That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar, + You should be satisfied. + ANTONY. That's all I seek; + And am moreover suitor that I may + Produce his body to the marketplace, + And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, + Speak in the order of his funeral. + BRUTUS. You shall, Mark Antony. + CASSIUS. Brutus, a word with you. + [Aside to Brutus.] You know not what you do. Do not consent + That Antony speak in his funeral. + Know you how much the people may be moved + By that which he will utter? + BRUTUS. By your pardon, + I will myself into the pulpit first, + And show the reason of our Caesar's death. + What Antony shall speak, I will protest + He speaks by leave and by permission, + And that we are contented Caesar shall + Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies. + It shall advantage more than do us wrong. + CASSIUS. I know not what may fall; I like it not. + BRUTUS. Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's body. + You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, + But speak all good you can devise of Caesar, + And say you do't by our permission, + Else shall you not have any hand at all + About his funeral. And you shall speak + In the same pulpit whereto I am going, + After my speech is ended. + ANTONY. Be it so, + I do desire no more. + BRUTUS. Prepare the body then, and follow us. + Exeunt all but Antony. + ANTONY. O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, + That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! + Thou art the ruins of the noblest man + That ever lived in the tide of times. + Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! + Over thy wounds now do I prophesy + (Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips + To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue) + A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; + Domestic fury and fierce civil strife + Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; + Blood and destruction shall be so in use, + And dreadful objects so familiar, + That mothers shall but smile when they behold + Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; + All pity choked with custom of fell deeds, + And Caesar's spirit ranging for revenge, + With Ate by his side come hot from hell, + Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice + Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war, + That this foul deed shall smell above the earth + With carrion men, groaning for burial. + + Enter a Servant. + + You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not? + SERVANT. I do, Mark Antony. + ANTONY. Caesar did write for him to come to Rome. + SERVANT. He did receive his letters, and is coming, + And bid me say to you by word of mouth- + O Caesar! Sees the body. + ANTONY. Thy heart is big; get thee apart and weep. + Passion, I see, is catching, for mine eyes, + Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, + Began to water. Is thy master coming? + SERVANT. He lies tonight within seven leagues of Rome. + ANTONY. Post back with speed and tell him what hath chanced. + Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, + No Rome of safety for Octavius yet; + Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet stay awhile, + Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corse + Into the marketplace. There shall I try, + In my oration, how the people take + The cruel issue of these bloody men, + According to the which thou shalt discourse + To young Octavius of the state of things. + Lend me your hand. Exeunt with Caesar's body. + + + + +SCENE II. +The Forum. + +Enter Brutus and Cassius, and a throng of Citizens. + + CITIZENS. We will be satisfied! Let us be satisfied! + BRUTUS. Then follow me and give me audience, friends. + Cassius, go you into the other street + And part the numbers. + Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here; + Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; + And public reasons shall be rendered + Of Caesar's death. + FIRST CITIZEN. I will hear Brutus speak. + SECOND CITIZEN. I will hear Cassius and compare their reasons, + When severally we hear them rendered. + Exit Cassius, with some Citizens. + Brutus goes into the pulpit. + THIRD CITIZEN. The noble Brutus is ascended. Silence! + BRUTUS. Be patient till the last. + Romans, countrymen, and lovers! Hear me for my cause, and be + silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine honor, and have + respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your + wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If + there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to + him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If + then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is + my answer: Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome + more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than + that Caesar were dead to live all freemen? As Caesar loved me, I + weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was + valiant, I honor him; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There + is tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, + and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a + bondman? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so + rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak, for him have I + offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If + any, speak, for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. + ALL. None, Brutus, none. + BRUTUS. Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar + than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is + enrolled in the Capitol, his glory not extenuated, wherein he was + worthy, nor his offenses enforced, for which he suffered death. + + Enter Antony and others, with Caesar's body. + + Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, though he had + no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a + place in the commonwealth, as which of you shall not? With this I + depart- that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I + have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country + to need my death. + ALL. Live, Brutus, live, live! + FIRST CITIZEN. Bring him with triumph home unto his house. + SECOND CITIZEN. Give him a statue with his ancestors. + THIRD CITIZEN. Let him be Caesar. + FOURTH CITIZEN. Caesar's better parts + Shall be crown'd in Brutus. + FIRST CITIZEN. We'll bring him to his house with shouts and + clamors. + BRUTUS. My countrymen- + SECOND CITIZEN. Peace! Silence! Brutus speaks. + FIRST CITIZEN. Peace, ho! + BRUTUS. Good countrymen, let me depart alone, + And, for my sake, stay here with Antony. + Do grace to Caesar's corse, and grace his speech + Tending to Caesar's glories, which Mark Antony, + By our permission, is allow'd to make. + I do entreat you, not a man depart, + Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. Exit. + FIRST CITIZEN. Stay, ho, and let us hear Mark Antony. + THIRD CITIZEN. Let him go up into the public chair; + We'll hear him. Noble Antony, go up. + ANTONY. For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you. + Goes into the pulpit. + FOURTH CITIZEN. What does he say of Brutus? + THIRD CITIZEN. He says, for Brutus' sake, + He finds himself beholding to us all. + FOURTH CITIZEN. 'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here. + FIRST CITIZEN. This Caesar was a tyrant. + THIRD CITIZEN. Nay, that's certain. + We are blest that Rome is rid of him. + SECOND CITIZEN. Peace! Let us hear what Antony can say. + ANTONY. You gentle Romans- + ALL. Peace, ho! Let us hear him. + ANTONY. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears! + I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. + The evil that men do lives after them, + The good is oft interred with their bones; + So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus + Hath told you Caesar was ambitious; + If it were so, it was a grievous fault, + And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it. + Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest- + For Brutus is an honorable man; + So are they all, all honorable men- + Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. + He was my friend, faithful and just to me; + But Brutus says he was ambitious, + And Brutus is an honorable man. + He hath brought many captives home to Rome, + Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill. + Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? + When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; + Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: + Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, + And Brutus is an honorable man. + You all did see that on the Lupercal + I thrice presented him a kingly crown, + Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? + Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, + And sure he is an honorable man. + I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, + But here I am to speak what I do know. + You all did love him once, not without cause; + What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? + O judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts, + And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; + My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, + And I must pause till it come back to me. + FIRST CITIZEN. Methinks there is much reason in his sayings. + SECOND CITIZEN. If thou consider rightly of the matter, + Caesar has had great wrong. + THIRD CITIZEN. Has he, masters? + I fear there will a worse come in his place. + FOURTH CITIZEN. Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown; + Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious. + FIRST CITIZEN. If it be found so, some will dear abide it. + SECOND CITIZEN. Poor soul, his eyes are red as fire with weeping. + THIRD CITIZEN. There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony. + FOURTH CITIZEN. Now mark him, he begins again to speak. + ANTONY. But yesterday the word of Caesar might + Have stood against the world. Now lies he there, + And none so poor to do him reverence. + O masters! If I were disposed to stir + Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, + I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong, + Who, you all know, are honorable men. + I will not do them wrong; I rather choose + To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, + Than I will wrong such honorable men. + But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar; + I found it in his closet, 'tis his will. + Let but the commons hear this testament- + Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read- + And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds + And dip their napkins in his sacred blood, + Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, + And, dying, mention it within their wills, + Bequeathing it as a rich legacy + Unto their issue. + FOURTH CITIZEN. We'll hear the will. Read it, Mark Antony. + ALL. The will, the will! We will hear Caesar's will. + ANTONY. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; + It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you. + You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; + And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, + It will inflame you, it will make you mad. + 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs, + For if you should, O, what would come of it! + FOURTH CITIZEN. Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony. + You shall read us the will, Caesar's will. + ANTONY. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? + I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it. + I fear I wrong the honorable men + Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar; I do fear it. + FOURTH CITIZEN. They were traitors. Honorable men! + ALL. The will! The testament! + SECOND CITIZEN. They were villains, murtherers. The will! + Read the will! + ANTONY. You will compel me then to read the will? + Then make a ring about the corse of Caesar, + And let me show you him that made the will. + Shall I descend? And will you give me leave? + ALL. Come down. + SECOND CITIZEN. Descend. + He comes down from the pulpit. + THIRD CITIZEN. You shall have leave. + FOURTH CITIZEN. A ring, stand round. + FIRST CITIZEN. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body. + SECOND CITIZEN. Room for Antony, most noble Antony. + ANTONY. Nay, press not so upon me, stand far off. + ALL. Stand back; room, bear back! + ANTONY. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. + You all do know this mantle. I remember + The first time ever Caesar put it on; + 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, + That day he overcame the Nervii. + Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through; + See what a rent the envious Casca made; + Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; + And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, + Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it, + As rushing out of doors, to be resolved + If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; + For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel. + Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! + This was the most unkindest cut of all; + For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, + Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, + Quite vanquish'd him. Then burst his mighty heart, + And, in his mantle muffling up his face, + Even at the base of Pompey's statue, + Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. + O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! + Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, + Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. + O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel + The dint of pity. These are gracious drops. + Kind souls, what weep you when you but behold + Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, + Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors. + FIRST CITIZEN. O piteous spectacle! + SECOND CITIZEN. O noble Caesar! + THIRD CITIZEN. O woeful day! + FOURTH CITIZEN. O traitors villains! + FIRST CITIZEN. O most bloody sight! + SECOND CITIZEN. We will be revenged. + ALL. Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! + Slay! Let not a traitor live! + ANTONY. Stay, countrymen. + FIRST CITIZEN. Peace there! Hear the noble Antony. + SECOND CITIZEN. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with + him. + ANTONY. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up + To such a sudden flood of mutiny. + They that have done this deed are honorable. + What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, + That made them do it. They are wise and honorable, + And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. + I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts. + I am no orator, as Brutus is; + But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, + That love my friend, and that they know full well + That gave me public leave to speak of him. + For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, + Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, + To stir men's blood. I only speak right on; + I tell you that which you yourselves do know; + Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor dumb mouths, + And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, + And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony + Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue + In every wound of Caesar that should move + The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. + ALL. We'll mutiny. + FIRST CITIZEN. We'll burn the house of Brutus. + THIRD CITIZEN. Away, then! Come, seek the conspirators. + ANTONY. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak. + ALL. Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony! + ANTONY. Why, friends, you go to do you know not what. + Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves? + Alas, you know not; I must tell you then. + You have forgot the will I told you of. + ALL. Most true, the will! Let's stay and hear the will. + ANTONY. Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal. + To every Roman citizen he gives, + To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. + SECOND CITIZEN. Most noble Caesar! We'll revenge his death. + THIRD CITIZEN. O royal Caesar! + ANTONY. Hear me with patience. + ALL. Peace, ho! + ANTONY. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, + His private arbors, and new-planted orchards, + On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, + And to your heirs forever- common pleasures, + To walk abroad and recreate yourselves. + Here was a Caesar! When comes such another? + FIRST CITIZEN. Never, never. Come, away, away! + We'll burn his body in the holy place + And with the brands fire the traitors' houses. + Take up the body. + SECOND CITIZEN. Go fetch fire. + THIRD CITIZEN. Pluck down benches. + FOURTH CITIZEN. Pluck down forms, windows, anything. + Exeunt Citizens with the body. + ANTONY. Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, + Take thou what course thou wilt. + + Enter a Servant. + + How now, fellow? + SERVANT. Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome. + ANTONY. Where is he? + SERVANT. He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house. + ANTONY. And thither will I straight to visit him. + He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry, + And in this mood will give us anything. + SERVANT. I heard him say Brutus and Cassius + Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome. + ANTONY. Be like they had some notice of the people, + How I had moved them. Bring me to Octavius. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +A street. + +Enter Cinna the poet. + + CINNA. I dreamt tonight that I did feast with Caesar, + And things unluckily charge my fantasy. + I have no will to wander forth of doors, + Yet something leads me forth. + + Enter Citizens. + + FIRST CITIZEN. What is your name? + SECOND CITIZEN. Whither are you going? + THIRD CITIZEN. Where do you dwell? + FOURTH CITIZEN. Are you a married man or a bachelor? + SECOND CITIZEN. Answer every man directly. + FIRST CITIZEN. Ay, and briefly. + FOURTH CITIZEN. Ay, and wisely. + THIRD CITIZEN. Ay, and truly, you were best. + CINNA. What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I + a married man or a bachelor? Then, to answer every man directly + and briefly, wisely and truly: wisely I say, I am a bachelor. + SECOND CITIZEN. That's as much as to say they are fools that marry. + You'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed directly. + CINNA. Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral. + FIRST CITIZEN. As a friend or an enemy? + CINNA. As a friend. + SECOND CITIZEN. That matter is answered directly. + FOURTH CITIZEN. For your dwelling, briefly. + CINNA. Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol. + THIRD CITIZEN. Your name, sir, truly. + CINNA. Truly, my name is Cinna. + FIRST CITIZEN. Tear him to pieces, he's a conspirator. + CINNA. I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet. + FOURTH CITIZEN. Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad + verses. + CINNA. I am not Cinna the conspirator. + FOURTH CITIZEN. It is no matter, his name's Cinna. Pluck but his + name out of his heart, and turn him going. + THIRD CITIZEN. Tear him, tear him! Come, brands, ho, firebrands. To + Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all. Some to Decius' house, and some + to Casca's, some to Ligarius'. Away, go! Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +A house in Rome. Antony, Octavius, and Lepidus, seated at a table. + + ANTONY. These many then shall die, their names are prick'd. + OCTAVIUS. Your brother too must die; consent you, Lepidus? + LEPIDUS. I do consent- + OCTAVIUS. Prick him down, Antony. + LEPIDUS. Upon condition Publius shall not live, + Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony. + ANTONY. He shall not live; look, with a spot I damn him. + But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house, + Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine + How to cut off some charge in legacies. + LEPIDUS. What, shall I find you here? + OCTAVIUS. Or here, or at the Capitol. Exit Lepidus. + ANTONY. This is a slight unmeritable man, + Meet to be sent on errands. Is it fit, + The three-fold world divided, he should stand + One of the three to share it? + OCTAVIUS. So you thought him, + And took his voice who should be prick'd to die + In our black sentence and proscription. + ANTONY. Octavius, I have seen more days than you, + And though we lay these honors on this man + To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads, + He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, + To groan and sweat under the business, + Either led or driven, as we point the way; + And having brought our treasure where we will, + Then take we down his load and turn him off, + Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears + And graze in commons. + OCTAVIUS. You may do your will, + But he's a tried and valiant soldier. + ANTONY. So is my horse, Octavius, and for that + I do appoint him store of provender. + It is a creature that I teach to fight, + To wind, to stop, to run directly on, + His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit. + And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so: + He must be taught, and train'd, and bid go forth; + A barren-spirited fellow, one that feeds + On objects, arts, and imitations, + Which, out of use and staled by other men, + Begin his fashion. Do not talk of him + But as a property. And now, Octavius, + Listen great things. Brutus and Cassius + Are levying powers; we must straight make head; + Therefore let our alliance be combined, + Our best friends made, our means stretch'd; + And let us presently go sit in council, + How covert matters may be best disclosed, + And open perils surest answered. + OCTAVIUS. Let us do so, for we are at the stake, + And bay'd about with many enemies; + And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, + Millions of mischiefs. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +Camp near Sardis. Before Brutus' tent. Drum. + +Enter Brutus, Lucilius, Lucius, and Soldiers; Titinius and Pindarus meet them. + + BRUTUS. Stand, ho! + LUCILIUS. Give the word, ho, and stand. + BRUTUS. What now, Lucilius, is Cassius near? + LUCILIUS. He is at hand, and Pindarus is come + To do you salutation from his master. + BRUTUS. He greets me well. Your master, Pindarus, + In his own change, or by ill officers, + Hath given me some worthy cause to wish + Things done undone; but if he be at hand, + I shall be satisfied. + PINDARUS. I do not doubt + But that my noble master will appear + Such as he is, full of regard and honor. + BRUTUS. He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius, + How he received you. Let me be resolved. + LUCILIUS. With courtesy and with respect enough, + But not with such familiar instances, + Nor with such free and friendly conference, + As he hath used of old. + BRUTUS. Thou hast described + A hot friend cooling. Ever note, Lucilius, + When love begins to sicken and decay + It useth an enforced ceremony. + There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; + But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, + Make gallant show and promise of their mettle; + But when they should endure the bloody spur, + They fall their crests and like deceitful jades + Sink in the trial. Comes his army on? + LUCILIUS. They meant his night in Sard is to be quarter'd; + The greater part, the horse in general, + Are come with Cassius. Low march within. + BRUTUS. Hark, he is arrived. + March gently on to meet him. + + Enter Cassius and his Powers. + + CASSIUS. Stand, ho! + BRUTUS. Stand, ho! Speak the word along. + FIRST SOLDIER. Stand! + SECOND SOLDIER. Stand! + THIRD SOLDIER. Stand! + CASSIUS. Most noble brother, you have done me wrong. + BRUTUS. Judge me, you gods! Wrong I mine enemies? + And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother? + CASSIUS. Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs, + And when you do them- + BRUTUS. Cassius, be content, + Speak your griefs softly, I do know you well. + Before the eyes of both our armies here, + Which should perceive nothing but love from us, + Let us not wrangle. Bid them move away; + Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, + And I will give you audience. + CASSIUS. Pindarus, + Bid our commanders lead their charges off + A little from this ground. + BRUTUS. Lucilius, do you the like, and let no man + Come to our tent till we have done our conference. + Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +Brutus' tent. + +Enter Brutus and Cassius. + + CASSIUS. That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this: + You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella + For taking bribes here of the Sardians, + Wherein my letters, praying on his side, + Because I knew the man, were slighted off. + BRUTUS. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case. + CASSIUS. In such a time as this it is not meet + That every nice offense should bear his comment. + BRUTUS. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself + Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm, + To sell and mart your offices for gold + To undeservers. + CASSIUS. I an itching palm? + You know that you are Brutus that speaks this, + Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. + BRUTUS. The name of Cassius honors this corruption, + And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. + CASSIUS. Chastisement? + BRUTUS. Remember March, the ides of March remember. + Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? + What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, + And not for justice? What, shall one of us, + That struck the foremost man of all this world + But for supporting robbers, shall we now + Contaminate our fingers with base bribes + And sell the mighty space of our large honors + For so much trash as may be grasped thus? + I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, + Than such a Roman. + CASSIUS. Brutus, bait not me, + I'll not endure it. You forget yourself + To hedge me in. I am a soldier, I, + Older in practice, abler than yourself + To make conditions. + BRUTUS. Go to, you are not, Cassius. + CASSIUS. I am. + BRUTUS. I say you are not. + CASSIUS. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; + Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther. + BRUTUS. Away, slight man! + CASSIUS. Is't possible? + BRUTUS. Hear me, for I will speak. + Must I give way and room to your rash choler? + Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? + CASSIUS. O gods, ye gods! Must I endure all this? + BRUTUS. All this? Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break. + Go show your slaves how choleric you are, + And make your bondmen tremble. Must I bouge? + Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch + Under your testy humor? By the gods, + You shall digest the venom of your spleen, + Though it do split you, for, from this day forth, + I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, + When you are waspish. + CASSIUS. Is it come to this? + BRUTUS. You say you are a better soldier: + Let it appear so, make your vaunting true, + And it shall please me well. For mine own part, + I shall be glad to learn of noble men. + CASSIUS. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus. + I said, an elder soldier, not a better. + Did I say "better"? + BRUTUS. If you did, I care not. + CASSIUS. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. + BRUTUS. Peace, peace! You durst not so have tempted him. + CASSIUS. I durst not? + BRUTUS. No. + CASSIUS. What, durst not tempt him? + BRUTUS. For your life you durst not. + CASSIUS. Do not presume too much upon my love; + I may do that I shall be sorry for. + BRUTUS. You have done that you should be sorry for. + There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, + For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, + That they pass by me as the idle wind + Which I respect not. I did send to you + For certain sums of gold, which you denied me, + For I can raise no money by vile means. + By heaven, I had rather coin my heart + And drop my blood for drachmas than to wring + From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash + By any indirection. I did send + To you for gold to pay my legions, + Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius? + Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so? + When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous + To lock such rascal counters from his friends, + Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, + Dash him to pieces! + CASSIUS. I denied you not. + BRUTUS. You did. + CASSIUS. I did not. He was but a fool + That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart. + A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, + But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. + BRUTUS. I do not, till you practise them on me. + CASSIUS. You love me not. + BRUTUS. I do not like your faults. + CASSIUS. A friendly eye could never see such faults. + BRUTUS. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear + As huge as high Olympus. + CASSIUS. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, + Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, + For Cassius is aweary of the world: + Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; + Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observed, + Set in a notebook, learn'd and conn'd by rote, + To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep + My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, + And here my naked breast; within, a heart + Dearer than Pluto's mine, richer than gold. + If that thou best a Roman, take it forth; + I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart. + Strike, as thou didst at Caesar, for I know, + When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better + Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. + BRUTUS. Sheathe your dagger. + Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; + Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. + O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb, + That carries anger as the flint bears fire, + Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark + And straight is cold again. + CASSIUS. Hath Cassius lived + To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, + When grief and blood ill-temper'd vexeth him? + BRUTUS. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too. + CASSIUS. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. + BRUTUS. And my heart too. + CASSIUS. O Brutus! + BRUTUS. What's the matter? + CASSIUS. Have not you love enough to bear with me + When that rash humor which my mother gave me + Makes me forgetful? + BRUTUS. Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth, + When you are overearnest with your Brutus, + He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. + POET. [Within.] Let me go in to see the generals. + There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet + They be alone. + LUCILIUS. [Within.] You shall not come to them. + POET. [Within.] Nothing but death shall stay me. + + Enter Poet, followed by Lucilius, Titinius, and Lucius. + + CASSIUS. How now, what's the matter? + POET. For shame, you generals! What do you mean? + Love, and be friends, as two such men should be; + For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye. + CASSIUS. Ha, ha! How vilely doth this cynic rhyme! + BRUTUS. Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence! + CASSIUS. Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion. + BRUTUS. I'll know his humor when he knows his time. + What should the wars do with these jigging fools? + Companion, hence! + CASSIUS. Away, away, be gone! Exit Poet. + BRUTUS. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders + Prepare to lodge their companies tonight. + CASSIUS. And come yourselves and bring Messala with you + Immediately to us. Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius. + BRUTUS. Lucius, a bowl of wine! Exit Lucius. + CASSIUS. I did not think you could have been so angry. + BRUTUS. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. + CASSIUS. Of your philosophy you make no use, + If you give place to accidental evils. + BRUTUS. No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead. + CASSIUS. Ha? Portia? + BRUTUS. She is dead. + CASSIUS. How 'scaped killing when I cross'd you so? + O insupportable and touching loss! + Upon what sickness? + BRUTUS. Impatient of my absence, + And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony + Have made themselves so strong- for with her death + That tidings came- with this she fell distract, + And (her attendants absent) swallow'd fire. + CASSIUS. And died so? + BRUTUS. Even so. + CASSIUS. O ye immortal gods! + + Re-enter Lucius, with wine and taper. + + BRUTUS. Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine. + In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. Drinks. + CASSIUS. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. + Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; + I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. Drinks. + BRUTUS. Come in, Titinius! Exit Lucius. + + Re-enter Titinius, with Messala. + + Welcome, good Messala. + Now sit we close about this taper here, + And call in question our necessities. + CASSIUS. Portia, art thou gone? + BRUTUS. No more, I pray you. + Messala, I have here received letters + That young Octavius and Mark Antony + Come down upon us with a mighty power, + Bending their expedition toward Philippi. + MESSALA. Myself have letters of the selfsame tenure. + BRUTUS. With what addition? + MESSALA. That by proscription and bills of outlawry + Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus + Have put to death an hundred senators. + BRUTUS. There in our letters do not well agree; + Mine speak of seventy senators that died + By their proscriptions, Cicero being one. + CASSIUS. Cicero one! + MESSALA. Cicero is dead, + And by that order of proscription. + Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? + BRUTUS. No, Messala. + MESSALA. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? + BRUTUS. Nothing, Messala. + MESSALA. That, methinks, is strange. + BRUTUS. Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in yours? + MESSALA. No, my lord. + BRUTUS. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. + MESSALA. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell: + For certain she is dead, and by strange manner. + BRUTUS. Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala. + With meditating that she must die once + I have the patience to endure it now. + MESSALA. Even so great men great losses should endure. + CASSIUS. I have as much of this in art as you, + But yet my nature could not bear it so. + BRUTUS. Well, to our work alive. What do you think + Of marching to Philippi presently? + CASSIUS. I do not think it good. + BRUTUS. Your reason? + CASSIUS. This it is: + 'Tis better that the enemy seek us; + So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, + Doing himself offense, whilst we lying still + Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness. + BRUTUS. Good reasons must of force give place to better. + The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground + Do stand but in a forced affection, + For they have grudged us contribution. + The enemy, marching along by them, + By them shall make a fuller number up, + Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encouraged; + From which advantage shall we cut him off + If at Philippi we do face him there, + These people at our back. + CASSIUS. Hear me, good brother. + BRUTUS. Under your pardon. You must note beside + That we have tried the utmost of our friends, + Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe: + The enemy increaseth every day; + We, at the height, are ready to decline. + There is a tide in the affairs of men + Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune; + Omitted, all the voyage of their life + Is bound in shallows and in miseries. + On such a full sea are we now afloat, + And we must take the current when it serves, + Or lose our ventures. + CASSIUS. Then, with your will, go on; + We'll along ourselves and meet them at Philippi. + BRUTUS. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, + And nature must obey necessity, + Which we will niggard with a little rest. + There is no more to say? + CASSIUS. No more. Good night. + Early tomorrow will we rise and hence. + BRUTUS. Lucius! + + Re-enter Lucius. + + My gown. Exit Lucius. + Farewell, good Messala; + Good night, Titinius; noble, noble Cassius, + Good night and good repose. + CASSIUS. O my dear brother! + This was an ill beginning of the night. + Never come such division 'tween our souls! + Let it not, Brutus. + BRUTUS. Everything is well. + CASSIUS. Good night, my lord. + BRUTUS. Good night, good brother. + TITINIUS. MESSALA. Good night, Lord Brutus. + BRUTUS. Farewell, everyone. + Exeunt all but Brutus. + + Re-enter Lucius, with the gown. + + Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? + LUCIUS. Here in the tent. + BRUTUS. What, thou speak'st drowsily? + Poor knave, I blame thee not, thou art o'erwatch'd. + Call Claudio and some other of my men, + I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. + LUCIUS. Varro and Claudio! + + Enter Varro and Claudio. + + VARRO. Calls my lord? + BRUTUS. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep; + It may be I shall raise you by and by + On business to my brother Cassius. + VARRO. So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure. + BRUTUS. I would not have it so. Lie down, good sirs. + It may be I shall otherwise bethink me. + Look Lucius, here's the book I sought for so; + I put it in the pocket of my gown. + Varro and Claudio lie down. + LUCIUS. I was sure your lordship did not give it me. + BRUTUS. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. + Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, + And touch thy instrument a strain or two? + LUCIUS. Ay, my lord, an't please you. + BRUTUS. It does, my boy. + I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. + LUCIUS. It is my duty, sir. + BRUTUS. I should not urge thy duty past thy might; + I know young bloods look for a time of rest. + LUCIUS. I have slept, my lord, already. + BRUTUS. It was well done, and thou shalt sleep again; + I will not hold thee long. If I do live, + I will be good to thee. Music, and a song. + This is a sleepy tune. O murtherous slumber, + Layest thou thy leaden mace upon my boy + That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night. + I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. + If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument; + I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night. + Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn'd down + Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. Sits down. + + Enter the Ghost of Caesar. + + How ill this taper burns! Ha, who comes here? + I think it is the weakness of mine eyes + That shapes this monstrous apparition. + It comes upon me. Art thou anything? + Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil + That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare? + Speak to me what thou art. + GHOST. Thy evil spirit, Brutus. + BRUTUS. Why comest thou? + GHOST. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. + BRUTUS. Well, then I shall see thee again? + GHOST. Ay, at Philippi. + BRUTUS. Why, I will see thee at Philippi then. Exit Ghost. + Now I have taken heart thou vanishest. + Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. + Boy! Lucius! Varro! Claudio! Sirs, awake! + Claudio! + LUCIUS. The strings, my lord, are false. + BRUTUS. He thinks he still is at his instrument. + Lucius, awake! + LUCIUS. My lord? + BRUTUS. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out? + LUCIUS. My lord, I do not know that I did cry. + BRUTUS. Yes, that thou didst. Didst thou see anything? + LUCIUS. Nothing, my lord. + BRUTUS. Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah Claudio! + [To Varro.] Fellow thou, awake! + VARRO. My lord? + CLAUDIO. My lord? + BRUTUS. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? + VARRO. CLAUDIO. Did we, my lord? + BRUTUS. Ay, saw you anything? + VARRO. No, my lord, I saw nothing. + CLAUDIO. Nor I, my lord. + BRUTUS. Go and commend me to my brother Cassius; + Bid him set on his powers betimes before, + And we will follow. + VARRO. CLAUDIO. It shall be done, my lord. Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +The plains of Philippi. + +Enter Octavius, Antony, and their Army. + + OCTAVIUS. Now, Antony, our hopes are answered. + You said the enemy would not come down, + But keep the hills and upper regions. + It proves not so. Their battles are at hand; + They mean to warn us at Philippi here, + Answering before we do demand of them. + ANTONY. Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know + Wherefore they do it. They could be content + To visit other places, and come down + With fearful bravery, thinking by this face + To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage; + But 'tis not so. + + Enter a Messenger. + + MESSENGER. Prepare you, generals. + The enemy comes on in gallant show; + Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, + And something to be done immediately. + ANTONY. Octavius, lead your battle softly on, + Upon the left hand of the even field. + OCTAVIUS. Upon the right hand I, keep thou the left. + ANTONY. Why do you cross me in this exigent? + OCTAVIUS. I do not cross you, but I will do so. + + March. Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their Army; + Lucilius, Titinius, Messala, and others. + + BRUTUS. They stand, and would have parley. + CASSIUS. Stand fast, Titinius; we must out and talk. + OCTAVIUS. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle? + ANTONY. No, Caesar, we will answer on their charge. + Make forth, the generals would have some words. + OCTAVIUS. Stir not until the signal not until the signal. + BRUTUS. Words before blows. Is it so, countrymen? + OCTAVIUS. Not that we love words better, as you do. + BRUTUS. Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius. + ANTONY. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words. + Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart, + Crying "Long live! Hail, Caesar!" + CASSIUS. Antony, + The posture of your blows are yet unknown; + But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees, + And leave them honeyless. + ANTONY. Not stingless too. + BRUTUS. O, yes, and soundless too, + For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony, + And very wisely threat before you sting. + ANTONY. Villains! You did not so when your vile daggers + Hack'd one another in the sides of Caesar. + You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds, + And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet; + Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind + Strooke Caesar on the neck. O you flatterers! + CASSIUS. Flatterers? Now, Brutus, thank yourself. + This tongue had not offended so today, + If Cassius might have ruled. + OCTAVIUS. Come, come, the cause. If arguing make us sweat, + The proof of it will turn to redder drops. + Look, + I draw a sword against conspirators; + When think you that the sword goes up again? + Never, till Caesar's three and thirty wounds + Be well avenged, or till another Caesar + Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors. + BRUTUS. Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands, + Unless thou bring'st them with thee. + OCTAVIUS. So I hope, + I was not born to die on Brutus' sword. + BRUTUS. O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain, + Young man, thou couldst not die more honorable. + CASSIUS. A peevish school boy, worthless of such honor, + Join'd with a masker and a reveler! + ANTONY. Old Cassius still! + OCTAVIUS. Come, Antony, away! + Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth. + If you dare fight today, come to the field; + If not, when you have stomachs. + Exeunt Octavius, Antony, and their Army. + CASSIUS. Why, now, blow and, swell billow, and swim bark! + The storm is up, and all is on the hazard. + BRUTUS. Ho, Lucilius! Hark, a word with you. + LUCILIUS. [Stands forth.] My lord? + Brutus and Lucilius converse apart. + CASSIUS. Messala! + MESSALA. [Stands forth.] What says my general? + CASSIUS. Messala, + This is my birthday, as this very day + Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala. + Be thou my witness that, against my will, + As Pompey was, am I compell'd to set + Upon one battle all our liberties. + You know that I held Epicurus strong, + And his opinion. Now I change my mind, + And partly credit things that do presage. + Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign + Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perch'd, + Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands, + Who to Philippi here consorted us. + This morning are they fled away and gone, + And in their steads do ravens, crows, and kites + Fly o'er our heads and downward look on us, + As we were sickly prey. Their shadows seem + A canopy most fatal, under which + Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost. + MESSALA. Believe not so. + CASSIUS. I but believe it partly, + For I am fresh of spirit and resolved + To meet all perils very constantly. + BRUTUS. Even so, Lucilius. + CASSIUS. Now, most noble Brutus, + The gods today stand friendly that we may, + Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age! + But, since the affairs of men rest still incertain, + Let's reason with the worst that may befall. + If we do lose this battle, then is this + The very last time we shall speak together. + What are you then determined to do? + BRUTUS. Even by the rule of that philosophy + By which I did blame Cato for the death + Which he did give himself- I know not how, + But I do find it cowardly and vile, + For fear of what might fall, so to prevent + The time of life- arming myself with patience + To stay the providence of some high powers + That govern us below. + CASSIUS. Then, if we lose this battle, + You are contented to be led in triumph + Thorough the streets of Rome? + BRUTUS. No, Cassius, no. Think not, thou noble Roman, + That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome; + He bears too great a mind. But this same day + Must end that work the ides of March begun. + And whether we shall meet again I know not. + Therefore our everlasting farewell take. + Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius! + If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; + If not, why then this parting was well made. + CASSIUS. Forever and forever farewell, Brutus! + If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed; + If not, 'tis true this parting was well made. + BRUTUS. Why then, lead on. O, that a man might know + The end of this day's business ere it come! + But it sufficeth that the day will end, + And then the end is known. Come, ho! Away! Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +The field of battle. + +Alarum. Enter Brutus and Messala. + + BRUTUS. Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills + Unto the legions on the other side. Loud alarum. + Let them set on at once, for I perceive + But cold demeanor in Octavia's wing, + And sudden push gives them the overthrow. + Ride, ride, Messala. Let them all come down. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +Another part of the field. + +Alarums. Enter Cassius and Titinius. + + CASSIUS. O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly! + Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy. + This ensign here of mine was turning back; + I slew the coward, and did take it from him. + TITINIUS. O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early, + Who, having some advantage on Octavius, + Took it too eagerly. His soldiers fell to spoil, + Whilst we by Antony are all enclosed. + + Enter Pindarus. + + PINDARUS. Fly further off, my lord, fly further off; + Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord; + Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off. + CASSIUS. This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius: + Are those my tents where I perceive the fire? + TITINIUS. They are, my lord. + CASSIUS. Titinius, if thou lovest me, + Mount thou my horse and hide thy spurs in him, + Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops + And here again, that I may rest assured + Whether yond troops are friend or enemy. + TITINIUS. I will be here again, even with a thought. Exit. + CASSIUS. Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill; + My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius, + And tell me what thou notest about the field. + Pindarus ascends the hill. + This day I breathed first: time is come round, + And where I did begin, there shall I end; + My life is run his compass. Sirrah, what news? + PINDARUS. [Above.] O my lord! + CASSIUS. What news? + PINDARUS. [Above.] Titinius is enclosed round about + With horsemen, that make to him on the spur; + Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him. + Now, Titinius! Now some light. O, he lights too. + He's ta'en [Shout.] And, hark! They shout for joy. + CASSIUS. Come down; behold no more. + O, coward that I am, to live so long, + To see my best friend ta'en before my face! + Pindarus descends. + Come hither, sirrah. + In Parthia did I take thee prisoner, + And then I swore thee, saving of thy life, + That whatsoever I did bid thee do, + Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath; + Now be a freeman, and with this good sword, + That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom. + Stand not to answer: here, take thou the hilts; + And when my face is cover'd, as 'tis now, + Guide thou the sword. [Pindarus stabs him.] Caesar, thou art + revenged, + Even with the sword that kill'd thee. Dies. + PINDARUS. So, I am free, yet would not so have been, + Durst I have done my will. O Cassius! + Far from this country Pindarus shall run, + Where never Roman shall take note of him. Exit. + + Re-enter Titinius with Messala. + + MESSALA. It is but change, Titinius, for Octavius + Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power, + As Cassius' legions are by Antony. + TITINIUS. These tidings would well comfort Cassius. + MESSALA. Where did you leave him? + TITINIUS. All disconsolate, + With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill. + MESSALA. Is not that he that lies upon the ground? + TITINIUS. He lies not like the living. O my heart! + MESSALA. Is not that he? + TITINIUS. No, this was he, Messala, + But Cassius is no more. O setting sun, + As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night, + So in his red blood Cassius' day is set, + The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone; + Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done! + Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. + MESSALA. Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. + O hateful error, melancholy's child, + Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men + The things that are not? O error, soon conceived, + Thou never comest unto a happy birth, + But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee! + TITINIUS. What, Pindarus! Where art thou, Pindarus? + MESSALA. Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet + The noble Brutus, thrusting this report + Into his ears. I may say "thrusting" it, + For piercing steel and darts envenomed + Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus + As tidings of this sight. + TITINIUS. Hie you, Messala, + And I will seek for Pindarus the while. Exit Messala. + Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? + Did I not meet thy friends? And did not they + Put on my brows this wreath of victory, + And bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts? + Alas, thou hast misconstrued everything! + But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow; + Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I + Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace, + And see how I regarded Caius Cassius. + By your leave, gods, this is a Roman's part. + Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart. + Kills himself. + + Alarum. Re-enter Messala, with Brutus, young Cato, + and others. + + BRUTUS. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie? + MESSALA. Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it. + BRUTUS. Titinius' face is upward. + CATO. He is slain. + BRUTUS. O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet! + Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords + In our own proper entrails. Low alarums. + CATO. Brave Titinius! + Look whe'er he have not crown'd dead Cassius! + BRUTUS. Are yet two Romans living such as these? + The last of all the Romans, fare thee well! + It is impossible that ever Rome + Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe moe tears + To this dead man than you shall see me pay. + I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. + Come therefore, and to Thasos send his body; + His funerals shall not be in our camp, + Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come, + And come, young Cato; let us to the field. + Labio and Flavio, set our battles on. + 'Tis three o'clock, and Romans, yet ere night + We shall try fortune in a second fight. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE IV. +Another part of the field. + +Alarum. Enter, fighting, Soldiers of both armies; then Brutus, young Cato, +Lucilius, and others. + + BRUTUS. Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads! + CATO. What bastard doth not? Who will go with me? + I will proclaim my name about the field. + I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! + A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend. + I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! + BRUTUS. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; + Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus! Exit. + LUCILIUS. O young and noble Cato, art thou down? + Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius, + And mayst be honor'd, being Cato's son. + FIRST SOLDIER. Yield, or thou diest. + LUCILIUS. Only I yield to die. + [Offers money.] There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight: + Kill Brutus, and be honor'd in his death. + FIRST SOLDIER. We must not. A noble prisoner! + SECOND SOLDIER. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. + FIRST SOLDIER. I'll tell the news. Here comes the general. + + Enter Antony. + + Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord. + ANTONY. Where is he? + LUCILIUS. Safe, Antony, Brutus is safe enough. + I dare assure thee that no enemy + Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus; + The gods defend him from so great a shame! + When you do find him, or alive or dead, + He will be found like Brutus, like himself. + ANTONY. This is not Brutus, friend, but, I assure you, + A prize no less in worth. Keep this man safe, + Give him all kindness; I had rather have + Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, + And see wheer Brutus be alive or dead, + And bring us word unto Octavius' tent + How everything is chanced. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE V. +Another part of the field. + +Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius. + + BRUTUS. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock. + CLITUS. Statilius show'd the torchlight, but, my lord, + He came not back. He is or ta'en or slain. + BRUTUS. Sit thee down, Clitus. Slaying is the word: + It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. Whispers. + CLITUS. What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world. + BRUTUS. Peace then, no words. + CLITUS. I'll rather kill myself. + BRUTUS. Hark thee, Dardanius. Whispers. + DARDANIUS. Shall I do such a deed? + CLITUS. O Dardanius! + DARDANIUS. O Clitus! + CLITUS. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? + DARDANIUS. To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates. + CLITUS. Now is that noble vessel full of grief, + That it runs over even at his eyes. + BRUTUS. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word. + VOLUMNIUS. What says my lord? + BRUTUS. Why, this, Volumnius: + The ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me + Two several times by night; at Sardis once, + And this last night here in Philippi fields. + I know my hour is come. + VOLUMNIUS. Not so, my lord. + BRUTUS. Nay I am sure it is, Volumnius. + Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; + Our enemies have beat us to the pit; Low alarums. + It is more worthy to leap in ourselves + Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, + Thou know'st that we two went to school together; + Even for that our love of old, I prithee, + Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it. + VOLUMNIUS. That's not an office for a friend, my lord. + Alarum still. + CLITUS. Fly, fly, my lord, there is no tarrying here. + BRUTUS. Farewell to you, and you, and you, Volumnius. + Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; + Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen, + My heart doth joy that yet in all my life + I found no man but he was true to me. + I shall have glory by this losing day, + More than Octavius and Mark Antony + By this vile conquest shall attain unto. + So, fare you well at once, for Brutus' tongue + Hath almost ended his life's history. + Night hangs upon mine eyes, my bones would rest + That have but labor'd to attain this hour. + Alarum. Cry within, "Fly, fly, fly!" + CLITUS. Fly, my lord, fly. + BRUTUS. Hence! I will follow. + Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius. + I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord. + Thou art a fellow of a good respect; + Thy life hath had some smatch of honor in it. + Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, + While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? + STRATO. Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord. + BRUTUS. Farewell, good Strato. Runs on his sword. + Caesar, now be still; + I kill'd not thee with half so good a will. Dies. + + Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony, Messala, + Lucilius, and the Army. + + OCTAVIUS. What man is that? + MESSALA. My master's man. Strato, where is thy master? + STRATO. Free from the bondage you are in, Messala: + The conquerors can but make a fire of him; + For Brutus only overcame himself, + And no man else hath honor by his death. + LUCILIUS. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus, + That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true. + OCTAVIUS. All that served Brutus, I will entertain them. + Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? + STRATO. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you. + OCTAVIUS. Do so, good Messala. + MESSALA. How died my master, Strato? + STRATO. I held the sword, and he did run on it. + MESSALA. Octavius, then take him to follow thee + That did the latest service to my master. + ANTONY. This was the noblest Roman of them all. + All the conspirators, save only he, + Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; + He only, in a general honest thought + And common good to all, made one of them. + His life was gentle, and the elements + So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up + And say to all the world, "This was a man!" + OCTAVIUS. According to his virtue let us use him + With all respect and rites of burial. + Within my tent his bones tonight shall lie, + Most like a soldier, ordered honorably. + So call the field to rest, and let's away, + To part the glories of this happy day. Exeunt. + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + + +1606 + + +THE TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR + +by William Shakespeare + + + + +Dramatis Personae + + Lear, King of Britain. + King of France. + Duke of Burgundy. + Duke of Cornwall. + Duke of Albany. + Earl of Kent. + Earl of Gloucester. + Edgar, son of Gloucester. + Edmund, bastard son to Gloucester. + Curan, a courtier. + Old Man, tenant to Gloucester. + Doctor. + Lear's Fool. + Oswald, steward to Goneril. + A Captain under Edmund's command. + Gentlemen. + A Herald. + Servants to Cornwall. + + Goneril, daughter to Lear. + Regan, daughter to Lear. + Cordelia, daughter to Lear. + + Knights attending on Lear, Officers, Messengers, Soldiers, + Attendants. + + + + +<> + + + +Scene: - Britain. + + +ACT I. Scene I. +[King Lear's Palace.] + +Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund. [Kent and Glouceste converse. +Edmund stands back.] + + Kent. I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than + Cornwall. + Glou. It did always seem so to us; but now, in the division of the + kingdom, it appears not which of the Dukes he values most, for + equalities are so weigh'd that curiosity in neither can make + choice of either's moiety. + Kent. Is not this your son, my lord? + Glou. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often + blush'd to acknowledge him that now I am braz'd to't. + Kent. I cannot conceive you. + Glou. Sir, this young fellow's mother could; whereupon she grew + round-womb'd, and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she + had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? + Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so + proper. + Glou. But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year elder than + this, who yet is no dearer in my account. Though this knave came + something saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was + his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, and the + whoreson must be acknowledged.- Do you know this noble gentleman, + Edmund? + Edm. [comes forward] No, my lord. + Glou. My Lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as my honourable + friend. + Edm. My services to your lordship. + Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better. + Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving. + Glou. He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again. + Sound a sennet. + The King is coming. + + Enter one bearing a coronet; then Lear; then the Dukes of + Albany and Cornwall; next, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, with + Followers. + + Lear. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester. + Glou. I shall, my liege. + Exeunt [Gloucester and Edmund]. + Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. + Give me the map there. Know we have divided + In three our kingdom; and 'tis our fast intent + To shake all cares and business from our age, + Conferring them on younger strengths while we + Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall, + And you, our no less loving son of Albany, + We have this hour a constant will to publish + Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife + May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy, + Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, + Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, + And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, my daughters + (Since now we will divest us both of rule, + Interest of territory, cares of state), + Which of you shall we say doth love us most? + That we our largest bounty may extend + Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril, + Our eldest-born, speak first. + Gon. Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; + Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty; + Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; + No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; + As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found; + A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable. + Beyond all manner of so much I love you. + Cor. [aside] What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent. + Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, + With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd, + With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, + We make thee lady. To thine and Albany's issue + Be this perpetual.- What says our second daughter, + Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak. + Reg. Sir, I am made + Of the selfsame metal that my sister is, + And prize me at her worth. In my true heart + I find she names my very deed of love; + Only she comes too short, that I profess + Myself an enemy to all other joys + Which the most precious square of sense possesses, + And find I am alone felicitate + In your dear Highness' love. + Cor. [aside] Then poor Cordelia! + And yet not so; since I am sure my love's + More richer than my tongue. + Lear. To thee and thine hereditary ever + Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom, + No less in space, validity, and pleasure + Than that conferr'd on Goneril.- Now, our joy, + Although the last, not least; to whose young love + The vines of France and milk of Burgundy + Strive to be interest; what can you say to draw + A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. + Cor. Nothing, my lord. + Lear. Nothing? + Cor. Nothing. + Lear. Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again. + Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave + My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty + According to my bond; no more nor less. + Lear. How, how, Cordelia? Mend your speech a little, + Lest it may mar your fortunes. + Cor. Good my lord, + You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me; I + Return those duties back as are right fit, + Obey you, love you, and most honour you. + Why have my sisters husbands, if they say + They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, + That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry + Half my love with him, half my care and duty. + Sure I shall never marry like my sisters, + To love my father all. + Lear. But goes thy heart with this? + Cor. Ay, good my lord. + Lear. So young, and so untender? + Cor. So young, my lord, and true. + Lear. Let it be so! thy truth then be thy dower! + For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, + The mysteries of Hecate and the night; + By all the operation of the orbs + From whom we do exist and cease to be; + Here I disclaim all my paternal care, + Propinquity and property of blood, + And as a stranger to my heart and me + Hold thee from this for ever. The barbarous Scythian, + Or he that makes his generation messes + To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom + Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd, + As thou my sometime daughter. + Kent. Good my liege- + Lear. Peace, Kent! + Come not between the dragon and his wrath. + I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest + On her kind nursery.- Hence and avoid my sight!- + So be my grave my peace as here I give + Her father's heart from her! Call France! Who stirs? + Call Burgundy! Cornwall and Albany, + With my two daughters' dowers digest this third; + Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. + I do invest you jointly in my power, + Preeminence, and all the large effects + That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course, + With reservation of an hundred knights, + By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode + Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain + The name, and all th' additions to a king. The sway, + Revenue, execution of the rest, + Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm, + This coronet part betwixt you. + Kent. Royal Lear, + Whom I have ever honour'd as my king, + Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd, + As my great patron thought on in my prayers- + Lear. The bow is bent and drawn; make from the shaft. + Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade + The region of my heart! Be Kent unmannerly + When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man? + Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak + When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound + When majesty falls to folly. Reverse thy doom; + And in thy best consideration check + This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgment, + Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least, + Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound + Reverbs no hollowness. + Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more! + Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn + To wage against thine enemies; nor fear to lose it, + Thy safety being the motive. + Lear. Out of my sight! + Kent. See better, Lear, and let me still remain + The true blank of thine eye. + Lear. Now by Apollo- + Kent. Now by Apollo, King, + Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. + Lear. O vassal! miscreant! + [Lays his hand on his sword.] + Alb., Corn. Dear sir, forbear! + Kent. Do! + Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow + Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift, + Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, + I'll tell thee thou dost evil. + Lear. Hear me, recreant! + On thine allegiance, hear me! + Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow- + Which we durst never yet- and with strain'd pride + To come between our sentence and our power,- + Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,- + Our potency made good, take thy reward. + Five days we do allot thee for provision + To shield thee from diseases of the world, + And on the sixth to turn thy hated back + Upon our kingdom. If, on the tenth day following, + Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, + The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter, + This shall not be revok'd. + Kent. Fare thee well, King. Since thus thou wilt appear, + Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. + [To Cordelia] The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, + That justly think'st and hast most rightly said! + [To Regan and Goneril] And your large speeches may your deeds + approve, + That good effects may spring from words of love. + Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu; + He'll shape his old course in a country new. +Exit. + + Flourish. Enter Gloucester, with France and Burgundy; Attendants. + + Glou. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. + Lear. My Lord of Burgundy, + We first address toward you, who with this king + Hath rivall'd for our daughter. What in the least + Will you require in present dower with her, + Or cease your quest of love? + Bur. Most royal Majesty, + I crave no more than hath your Highness offer'd, + Nor will you tender less. + Lear. Right noble Burgundy, + When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; + But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands. + If aught within that little seeming substance, + Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd, + And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace, + She's there, and she is yours. + Bur. I know no answer. + Lear. Will you, with those infirmities she owes, + Unfriended, new adopted to our hate, + Dow'r'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath, + Take her, or leave her? + Bur. Pardon me, royal sir. + Election makes not up on such conditions. + Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the pow'r that made me, + I tell you all her wealth. [To France] For you, great King, + I would not from your love make such a stray + To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you + T' avert your liking a more worthier way + Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd + Almost t' acknowledge hers. + France. This is most strange, + That she that even but now was your best object, + The argument of your praise, balm of your age, + Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time + Commit a thing so monstrous to dismantle + So many folds of favour. Sure her offence + Must be of such unnatural degree + That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection + Fall'n into taint; which to believe of her + Must be a faith that reason without miracle + Should never plant in me. + Cor. I yet beseech your Majesty, + If for I want that glib and oily art + To speak and purpose not, since what I well intend, + I'll do't before I speak- that you make known + It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulness, + No unchaste action or dishonoured step, + That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour; + But even for want of that for which I am richer- + A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue + As I am glad I have not, though not to have it + Hath lost me in your liking. + Lear. Better thou + Hadst not been born than not t' have pleas'd me better. + France. Is it but this- a tardiness in nature + Which often leaves the history unspoke + That it intends to do? My Lord of Burgundy, + What say you to the lady? Love's not love + When it is mingled with regards that stands + Aloof from th' entire point. Will you have her? + She is herself a dowry. + Bur. Royal Lear, + Give but that portion which yourself propos'd, + And here I take Cordelia by the hand, + Duchess of Burgundy. + Lear. Nothing! I have sworn; I am firm. + Bur. I am sorry then you have so lost a father + That you must lose a husband. + Cor. Peace be with Burgundy! + Since that respects of fortune are his love, + I shall not be his wife. + France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor; + Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd! + Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon. + Be it lawful I take up what's cast away. + Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect + My love should kindle to inflam'd respect. + Thy dow'rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance, + Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France. + Not all the dukes in wat'rish Burgundy + Can buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me. + Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind. + Thou losest here, a better where to find. + Lear. Thou hast her, France; let her be thine; for we + Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see + That face of hers again. Therefore be gone + Without our grace, our love, our benison. + Come, noble Burgundy. + Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, [Cornwall, Albany, + Gloucester, and Attendants]. + France. Bid farewell to your sisters. + Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes + Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are; + And, like a sister, am most loath to call + Your faults as they are nam'd. Use well our father. + To your professed bosoms I commit him; + But yet, alas, stood I within his grace, + I would prefer him to a better place! + So farewell to you both. + Gon. Prescribe not us our duties. + Reg. Let your study + Be to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you + At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted, + And well are worth the want that you have wanted. + Cor. Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides. + Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. + Well may you prosper! + France. Come, my fair Cordelia. + Exeunt France and Cordelia. + Gon. Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly + appertains to us both. I think our father will hence to-night. + Reg. That's most certain, and with you; next month with us. + Gon. You see how full of changes his age is. The observation we + have made of it hath not been little. He always lov'd our + sister most, and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her + off appears too grossly. + Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever but slenderly + known himself. + Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then + must we look to receive from his age, not alone the + imperfections of long-ingraffed condition, but therewithal + the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with + them. + Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this + of Kent's banishment. + Gon. There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and + him. Pray you let's hit together. If our father carry authority + with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his + will but offend us. + Reg. We shall further think on't. + Gon. We must do something, and i' th' heat. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +The Earl of Gloucester's Castle. + +Enter [Edmund the] Bastard solus, [with a letter]. + + Edm. Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law + My services are bound. Wherefore should I + Stand in the plague of custom, and permit + The curiosity of nations to deprive me, + For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines + Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base? + When my dimensions are as well compact, + My mind as generous, and my shape as true, + As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us + With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? + Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take + More composition and fierce quality + Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, + Go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops + Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well then, + Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land. + Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund + As to th' legitimate. Fine word- 'legitimate'! + Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, + And my invention thrive, Edmund the base + Shall top th' legitimate. I grow; I prosper. + Now, gods, stand up for bastards! + + Enter Gloucester. + + Glou. Kent banish'd thus? and France in choler parted? + And the King gone to-night? subscrib'd his pow'r? + Confin'd to exhibition? All this done + Upon the gad? Edmund, how now? What news? + Edm. So please your lordship, none. + [Puts up the letter.] + Glou. Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter? + Edm. I know no news, my lord. + Glou. What paper were you reading? + Edm. Nothing, my lord. + Glou. No? What needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your + pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide + itself. Let's see. Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need + spectacles. + Edm. I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my brother + that I have not all o'er-read; and for so much as I have + perus'd, I find it not fit for your o'erlooking. + Glou. Give me the letter, sir. + Edm. I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as + in part I understand them, are to blame. + Glou. Let's see, let's see! + Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but as + an essay or taste of my virtue. + + Glou. (reads) 'This policy and reverence of age makes the world + bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us + till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle + and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways, + not as it hath power, but as it is suffer'd. Come to me, that + of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I + wak'd him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live + the beloved of your brother, + 'EDGAR.' + + Hum! Conspiracy? 'Sleep till I wak'd him, you should enjoy half + his revenue.' My son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? a heart + and brain to breed it in? When came this to you? Who brought it? + Edm. It was not brought me, my lord: there's the cunning of it. I + found it thrown in at the casement of my closet. + Glou. You know the character to be your brother's? + Edm. If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; + but in respect of that, I would fain think it were not. + Glou. It is his. + Edm. It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is not in the + contents. + Glou. Hath he never before sounded you in this business? + Edm. Never, my lord. But I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit + that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declining, the father + should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue. + Glou. O villain, villain! His very opinion in the letter! Abhorred + villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain! worse than + brutish! Go, sirrah, seek him. I'll apprehend him. Abominable + villain! Where is he? + Edm. I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend + your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him + better testimony of his intent, you should run a certain course; + where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his + purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour and shake + in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life + for him that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your + honour, and to no other pretence of danger. + Glou. Think you so? + Edm. If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where you shall + hear us confer of this and by an auricular assurance have your + satisfaction, and that without any further delay than this very + evening. + Glou. He cannot be such a monster. + Edm. Nor is not, sure. + Glou. To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him. + Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray + you; frame the business after your own wisdom. I would unstate + myself to be in a due resolution. + Edm. I will seek him, sir, presently; convey the business as I + shall find means, and acquaint you withal. + Glou. These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to + us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet + nature finds itself scourg'd by the sequent effects. Love cools, + friendship falls off, brothers divide. In cities, mutinies; in + countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond crack'd + 'twixt son and father. This villain of mine comes under the + prediction; there's son against father: the King falls from bias + of nature; there's father against child. We have seen the best + of our time. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all + ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our graves. Find out + this villain, Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it + carefully. And the noble and true-hearted Kent banish'd! his + offence, honesty! 'Tis strange. Exit. + Edm. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are + sick in fortune, often the surfeit of our own behaviour, we make + guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if + we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; + knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical pre-dominance; + drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforc'd obedience of + planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine + thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whore-master man, to lay + his goatish disposition to the charge of a star! My father + compounded with my mother under the Dragon's Tail, and my + nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows I am rough and + lecherous. Fut! I should have been that I am, had the + maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. + Edgar- + + Enter Edgar. + + and pat! he comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy. My + cue is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. + O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! Fa, sol, la, mi. + Edg. How now, brother Edmund? What serious contemplation are you + in? + Edm. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, + what should follow these eclipses. + Edg. Do you busy yourself with that? + Edm. I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily: as + of unnaturalness between the child and the parent; death, + dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state, + menaces and maledictions against king and nobles; needless + diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, + nuptial breaches, and I know not what. + Edg. How long have you been a sectary astronomical? + Edm. Come, come! When saw you my father last? + Edg. The night gone by. + Edm. Spake you with him? + Edg. Ay, two hours together. + Edm. Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by + word or countenance + Edg. None at all. + Edm. Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him; and at my + entreaty forbear his presence until some little time hath + qualified the heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so + rageth in him that with the mischief of your person it would + scarcely allay. + Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong. + Edm. That's my fear. I pray you have a continent forbearance till + the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me + to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my + lord speak. Pray ye, go! There's my key. If you do stir abroad, + go arm'd. + Edg. Arm'd, brother? + Edm. Brother, I advise you to the best. Go arm'd. I am no honest man + if there be any good meaning toward you. I have told you what I + have seen and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image and + horror of it. Pray you, away! + Edg. Shall I hear from you anon? + Edm. I do serve you in this business. + Exit Edgar. + A credulous father! and a brother noble, + Whose nature is so far from doing harms + That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty + My practices ride easy! I see the business. + Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit; + All with me's meet that I can fashion fit. +Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +The Duke of Albany's Palace. + +Enter Goneril and [her] Steward [Oswald]. + + Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? + Osw. Ay, madam. + Gon. By day and night, he wrongs me! Every hour + He flashes into one gross crime or other + That sets us all at odds. I'll not endure it. + His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us + On every trifle. When he returns from hunting, + I will not speak with him. Say I am sick. + If you come slack of former services, + You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer. + [Horns within.] + Osw. He's coming, madam; I hear him. + Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please, + You and your fellows. I'd have it come to question. + If he distaste it, let him to our sister, + Whose mind and mine I know in that are one, + Not to be overrul'd. Idle old man, + That still would manage those authorities + That he hath given away! Now, by my life, + Old fools are babes again, and must be us'd + With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus'd. + Remember what I have said. + Osw. Very well, madam. + Gon. And let his knights have colder looks among you. + What grows of it, no matter. Advise your fellows so. + I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, + That I may speak. I'll write straight to my sister + To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +The Duke of Albany's Palace. + +Enter Kent, [disguised]. + + Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow, + That can my speech defuse, my good intent + May carry through itself to that full issue + For which I raz'd my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent, + If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, + So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov'st, + Shall find thee full of labours. + + Horns within. Enter Lear, [Knights,] and Attendants. + + Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready. [Exit + an Attendant.] How now? What art thou? + Kent. A man, sir. + Lear. What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us? + Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve him truly + that will put me in trust, to love him that is honest, to + converse with him that is wise and says little, to fear + judgment, to fight when I cannot choose, and to eat no fish. + Lear. What art thou? + Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King. + Lear. If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's for a king, thou + art poor enough. What wouldst thou? + Kent. Service. + Lear. Who wouldst thou serve? + Kent. You. + Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow? + Kent. No, sir; but you have that in your countenance which I would + fain call master. + Lear. What's that? + Kent. Authority. + Lear. What services canst thou do? + Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in + telling it and deliver a plain message bluntly. That which + ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the best of me + is diligence. + Lear. How old art thou? + Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so old to + dote on her for anything. I have years on my back forty-eight. + Lear. Follow me; thou shalt serve me. If I like thee no worse after + dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner, ho, dinner! + Where's my knave? my fool? Go you and call my fool hither. + + [Exit an attendant.] + + Enter [Oswald the] Steward. + + You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter? + Osw. So please you- Exit. + Lear. What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back. + [Exit a Knight.] Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's + asleep. + + [Enter Knight] + + How now? Where's that mongrel? + Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not well. + Lear. Why came not the slave back to me when I call'd him? + Knight. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not. + Lear. He would not? + Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but to my judgment + your Highness is not entertain'd with that ceremonious affection + as you were wont. There's a great abatement of kindness appears + as well in the general dependants as in the Duke himself also + and your daughter. + Lear. Ha! say'st thou so? + Knight. I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for + my duty cannot be silent when I think your Highness wrong'd. + Lear. Thou but rememb'rest me of mine own conception. I have + perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather + blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence + and purpose of unkindness. I will look further into't. But + where's my fool? I have not seen him this two days. + Knight. Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool + hath much pined away. + Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you and tell my + daughter I would speak with her. [Exit Knight.] Go you, call + hither my fool. + [Exit an Attendant.] + + Enter [Oswald the] Steward. + + O, you, sir, you! Come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir? + Osw. My lady's father. + Lear. 'My lady's father'? My lord's knave! You whoreson dog! you + slave! you cur! + Osw. I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon. + Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? + [Strikes him.] + Osw. I'll not be strucken, my lord. + Kent. Nor tripp'd neither, you base football player? + [Trips up his heels. + Lear. I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv'st me, and I'll love thee. + Kent. Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences. Away, + away! If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry; but + away! Go to! Have you wisdom? So. + [Pushes him out.] + Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There's earnest of thy + service. [Gives money.] + + Enter Fool. + + Fool. Let me hire him too. Here's my coxcomb. + [Offers Kent his cap.] + Lear. How now, my pretty knave? How dost thou? + Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. + Kent. Why, fool? + Fool. Why? For taking one's part that's out of favour. Nay, an thou + canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly. + There, take my coxcomb! Why, this fellow hath banish'd two on's + daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will. If + thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.- How now, + nuncle? Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters! + Lear. Why, my boy? + Fool. If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs myself. + There's mine! beg another of thy daughters. + Lear. Take heed, sirrah- the whip. + Fool. Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipp'd out, when + Lady the brach may stand by th' fire and stink. + Lear. A pestilent gall to me! + Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. + Lear. Do. + Fool. Mark it, nuncle. + Have more than thou showest, + Speak less than thou knowest, + Lend less than thou owest, + Ride more than thou goest, + Learn more than thou trowest, + Set less than thou throwest; + Leave thy drink and thy whore, + And keep in-a-door, + And thou shalt have more + Than two tens to a score. + Kent. This is nothing, fool. + Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfeed lawyer- you gave me + nothing for't. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle? + Lear. Why, no, boy. Nothing can be made out of nothing. + Fool. [to Kent] Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his land + comes to. He will not believe a fool. + Lear. A bitter fool! + Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter + fool and a sweet fool? + Lear. No, lad; teach me. + Fool. That lord that counsell'd thee + To give away thy land, + Come place him here by me- + Do thou for him stand. + The sweet and bitter fool + Will presently appear; + The one in motley here, + The other found out there. + Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy? + Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast + born with. + Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord. + Fool. No, faith; lords and great men will not let me. If I had a + monopoly out, they would have part on't. And ladies too, they + will not let me have all the fool to myself; they'll be + snatching. Give me an egg, nuncle, and I'll give thee two + crowns. + Lear. What two crowns shall they be? + Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i' th' middle and eat up the + meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i' + th' middle and gav'st away both parts, thou bor'st thine ass on + thy back o'er the dirt. Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown + when thou gav'st thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in + this, let him be whipp'd that first finds it so. + + [Sings] Fools had ne'er less grace in a year, + For wise men are grown foppish; + They know not how their wits to wear, + Their manners are so apish. + + Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah? + Fool. I have us'd it, nuncle, ever since thou mad'st thy daughters + thy mother; for when thou gav'st them the rod, and put'st down + thine own breeches, + + [Sings] Then they for sudden joy did weep, + And I for sorrow sung, + That such a king should play bo-peep + And go the fools among. + + Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool to + lie. I would fain learn to lie. + Lear. An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd. + Fool. I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. They'll have me + whipp'd for speaking true; thou'lt have me whipp'd for lying; + and sometimes I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had rather be + any kind o' thing than a fool! And yet I would not be thee, + nuncle. Thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides and left nothing + i' th' middle. Here comes one o' the parings. + + Enter Goneril. + + Lear. How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet on? Methinks you + are too much o' late i' th' frown. + Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for + her frowning. Now thou art an O without a figure. I am better + than thou art now: I am a fool, thou art nothing. + [To Goneril] Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue. So your face + bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum! + + He that keeps nor crust nor crum, + Weary of all, shall want some.- + + [Points at Lear] That's a sheal'd peascod. + Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool, + But other of your insolent retinue + Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth + In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, + I had thought, by making this well known unto you, + To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful, + By what yourself, too, late have spoke and done, + That you protect this course, and put it on + By your allowance; which if you should, the fault + Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep, + Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal, + Might in their working do you that offence + Which else were shame, that then necessity + Must call discreet proceeding. + Fool. For you know, nuncle, + + The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long + That it had it head bit off by it young. + + So out went the candle, and we were left darkling. + Lear. Are you our daughter? + Gon. Come, sir, + I would you would make use of that good wisdom + Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away + These dispositions that of late transform you + From what you rightly are. + Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse? + Whoop, Jug, I love thee! + Lear. Doth any here know me? This is not Lear. + Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes? + Either his notion weakens, his discernings + Are lethargied- Ha! waking? 'Tis not so! + Who is it that can tell me who I am? + Fool. Lear's shadow. + Lear. I would learn that; for, by the marks of sovereignty, + Knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded + I had daughters. + Fool. Which they will make an obedient father. + Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman? + Gon. This admiration, sir, is much o' th' savour + Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you + To understand my purposes aright. + As you are old and reverend, you should be wise. + Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires; + Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd, and bold + That this our court, infected with their manners, + Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust + Make it more like a tavern or a brothel + Than a grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speak + For instant remedy. Be then desir'd + By her that else will take the thing she begs + A little to disquantity your train, + And the remainder that shall still depend + To be such men as may besort your age, + Which know themselves, and you. + Lear. Darkness and devils! + Saddle my horses! Call my train together! + Degenerate bastard, I'll not trouble thee; + Yet have I left a daughter. + Gon. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rabble + Make servants of their betters. + + Enter Albany. + + Lear. Woe that too late repents!- O, sir, are you come? + Is it your will? Speak, sir!- Prepare my horses. + Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, + More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child + Than the sea-monster! + Alb. Pray, sir, be patient. + Lear. [to Goneril] Detested kite, thou liest! + My train are men of choice and rarest parts, + That all particulars of duty know + And in the most exact regard support + The worships of their name.- O most small fault, + How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show! + Which, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature + From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love + And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear! + Beat at this gate that let thy folly in [Strikes his head.] + And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people. + Alb. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant + Of what hath mov'd you. + Lear. It may be so, my lord. + Hear, Nature, hear! dear goddess, hear! + Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend + To make this creature fruitful. + Into her womb convey sterility; + Dry up in her the organs of increase; + And from her derogate body never spring + A babe to honour her! If she must teem, + Create her child of spleen, that it may live + And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her. + Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth, + With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks, + Turn all her mother's pains and benefits + To laughter and contempt, that she may feel + How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is + To have a thankless child! Away, away! Exit. + Alb. Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? + Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause; + But let his disposition have that scope + That dotage gives it. + + Enter Lear. + + Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap? + Within a fortnight? + Alb. What's the matter, sir? + Lear. I'll tell thee. [To Goneril] Life and death! I am asham'd + That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus; + That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, + Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee! + Th' untented woundings of a father's curse + Pierce every sense about thee!- Old fond eyes, + Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out, + And cast you, with the waters that you lose, + To temper clay. Yea, is it come to this? + Let it be so. Yet have I left a daughter, + Who I am sure is kind and comfortable. + When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails + She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find + That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think + I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee. + Exeunt [Lear, Kent, and Attendants]. + Gon. Do you mark that, my lord? + Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril, + To the great love I bear you - + Gon. Pray you, content.- What, Oswald, ho! + [To the Fool] You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master! + Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry! Take the fool with thee. + + A fox when one has caught her, + And such a daughter, + Should sure to the slaughter, + If my cap would buy a halter. + So the fool follows after. Exit. + Gon. This man hath had good counsel! A hundred knights? + 'Tis politic and safe to let him keep + At point a hundred knights; yes, that on every dream, + Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, + He may enguard his dotage with their pow'rs + And hold our lives in mercy.- Oswald, I say! + Alb. Well, you may fear too far. + Gon. Safer than trust too far. + Let me still take away the harms I fear, + Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart. + What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister. + If she sustain him and his hundred knights, + When I have show'd th' unfitness- + + Enter [Oswald the] Steward. + + How now, Oswald? + What, have you writ that letter to my sister? + Osw. Yes, madam. + Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse! + Inform her full of my particular fear, + And thereto add such reasons of your own + As may compact it more. Get you gone, + And hasten your return. [Exit Oswald.] No, no, my lord! + This milky gentleness and course of yours, + Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon, + You are much more at task for want of wisdom + Than prais'd for harmful mildness. + Alb. How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell. + Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. + Gon. Nay then- + Alb. Well, well; th' event. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene V. +Court before the Duke of Albany's Palace. + +Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. + + Lear. Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. Acquaint my + daughter no further with anything you know than comes from her + demand out of the letter. If your diligence be not speedy, I + shall be there afore you. + Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your letter. +Exit. + Fool. If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in danger of + kibes? + Lear. Ay, boy. + Fool. Then I prithee be merry. Thy wit shall ne'er go slip-shod. + Lear. Ha, ha, ha! + Fool. Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; for though + she's as like this as a crab's like an apple, yet I can tell + what I can tell. + Lear. What canst tell, boy? + Fool. She'll taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou + canst tell why one's nose stands i' th' middle on's face? + Lear. No. + Fool. Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose, that what a + man cannot smell out, 'a may spy into. + Lear. I did her wrong. + Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell? + Lear. No. + Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house. + Lear. Why? + Fool. Why, to put's head in; not to give it away to his daughters, + and leave his horns without a case. + Lear. I will forget my nature. So kind a father!- Be my horses + ready? + Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the seven stars + are no moe than seven is a pretty reason. + Lear. Because they are not eight? + Fool. Yes indeed. Thou wouldst make a good fool. + Lear. To tak't again perforce! Monster ingratitude! + Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten for being + old before thy time. + Lear. How's that? + Fool. Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise. + Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven! + Keep me in temper; I would not be mad! + + [Enter a Gentleman.] + + How now? Are the horses ready? + Gent. Ready, my lord. + Lear. Come, boy. + Fool. She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure, + Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. Scene I. +A court within the Castle of the Earl of Gloucester. + +Enter [Edmund the] Bastard and Curan, meeting. + + Edm. Save thee, Curan. + Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given him + notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his Duchess will be + here with him this night. + Edm. How comes that? + Cur. Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad- I mean the + whisper'd ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments? + Edm. Not I. Pray you, what are they? + Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward 'twixt the two Dukes + of Cornwall and Albany? + Edm. Not a word. + Cur. You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. Exit. + Edm. The Duke be here to-night? The better! best! + This weaves itself perforce into my business. + My father hath set guard to take my brother; + And I have one thing, of a queasy question, + Which I must act. Briefness and fortune, work! + Brother, a word! Descend! Brother, I say! + + Enter Edgar. + + My father watches. O sir, fly this place! + Intelligence is given where you are hid. + You have now the good advantage of the night. + Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall? + He's coming hither; now, i' th' night, i' th' haste, + And Regan with him. Have you nothing said + Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany? + Advise yourself. + Edg. I am sure on't, not a word. + Edm. I hear my father coming. Pardon me! + In cunning I must draw my sword upon you. + Draw, seem to defend yourself; now quit you well.- + Yield! Come before my father. Light, ho, here! + Fly, brother.- Torches, torches!- So farewell. + Exit Edgar. + Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion + Of my more fierce endeavour. [Stabs his arm.] I have seen + drunkards + Do more than this in sport.- Father, father!- + Stop, stop! No help? + + Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches. + + Glou. Now, Edmund, where's the villain? + Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out, + Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon + To stand 's auspicious mistress. + Glou. But where is he? + Edm. Look, sir, I bleed. + Glou. Where is the villain, Edmund? + Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could- + Glou. Pursue him, ho! Go after. [Exeunt some Servants]. + By no means what? + Edm. Persuade me to the murther of your lordship; + But that I told him the revenging gods + 'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend; + Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond + The child was bound to th' father- sir, in fine, + Seeing how loathly opposite I stood + To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion + With his prepared sword he charges home + My unprovided body, lanch'd mine arm; + But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits, + Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to th' encounter, + Or whether gasted by the noise I made, + Full suddenly he fled. + Glou. Let him fly far. + Not in this land shall he remain uncaught; + And found- dispatch. The noble Duke my master, + My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night. + By his authority I will proclaim it + That he which find, him shall deserve our thanks, + Bringing the murderous caitiff to the stake; + He that conceals him, death. + Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent + And found him pight to do it, with curst speech + I threaten'd to discover him. He replied, + 'Thou unpossessing bastard, dost thou think, + If I would stand against thee, would the reposal + Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee + Make thy words faith'd? No. What I should deny + (As this I would; ay, though thou didst produce + My very character), I'ld turn it all + To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice; + And thou must make a dullard of the world, + If they not thought the profits of my death + Were very pregnant and potential spurs + To make thee seek it.' + Glou. Strong and fast'ned villain! + Would he deny his letter? I never got him. + Tucket within. + Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes. + All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not scape; + The Duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture + I will send far and near, that all the kingdom + May have due note of him, and of my land, + Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means + To make thee capable. + + Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants. + + Corn. How now, my noble friend? Since I came hither + (Which I can call but now) I have heard strange news. + Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short + Which can pursue th' offender. How dost, my lord? + Glou. O madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd! + Reg. What, did my father's godson seek your life? + He whom my father nam'd? Your Edgar? + Glou. O lady, lady, shame would have it hid! + Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous knights + That tend upon my father? + Glou. I know not, madam. 'Tis too bad, too bad! + Edm. Yes, madam, he was of that consort. + Reg. No marvel then though he were ill affected. + 'Tis they have put him on the old man's death, + To have th' expense and waste of his revenues. + I have this present evening from my sister + Been well inform'd of them, and with such cautions + That, if they come to sojourn at my house, + I'll not be there. + Corn. Nor I, assure thee, Regan. + Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father + A childlike office. + Edm. 'Twas my duty, sir. + Glou. He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd + This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. + Corn. Is he pursued? + Glou. Ay, my good lord. + Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more + Be fear'd of doing harm. Make your own purpose, + How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund, + Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant + So much commend itself, you shall be ours. + Natures of such deep trust we shall much need; + You we first seize on. + Edm. I shall serve you, sir, + Truly, however else. + Glou. For him I thank your Grace. + Corn. You know not why we came to visit you- + Reg. Thus out of season, threading dark-ey'd night. + Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise, + Wherein we must have use of your advice. + Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, + Of differences, which I best thought it fit + To answer from our home. The several messengers + From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend, + Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow + Your needful counsel to our business, + Which craves the instant use. + Glou. I serve you, madam. + Your Graces are right welcome. + Exeunt. Flourish. + + + + +Scene II. +Before Gloucester's Castle. + +Enter Kent and [Oswald the] Steward, severally. + + Osw. Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house? + Kent. Ay. + Osw. Where may we set our horses? + Kent. I' th' mire. + Osw. Prithee, if thou lov'st me, tell me. + Kent. I love thee not. + Osw. Why then, I care not for thee. + Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make thee care for + me. + Osw. Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not. + Kent. Fellow, I know thee. + Osw. What dost thou know me for? + Kent. A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, + shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, + worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking, whoreson, + glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; + one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of + good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, + beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch; + one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny the + least syllable of thy addition. + Osw. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one + that's neither known of thee nor knows thee! + Kent. What a brazen-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me! + Is it two days ago since I beat thee and tripp'd up thy heels + before the King? [Draws his sword.] Draw, you rogue! for, though + it be night, yet the moon shines. I'll make a sop o' th' + moonshine o' you. Draw, you whoreson cullionly barbermonger! + draw! + Osw. Away! I have nothing to do with thee. + Kent. Draw, you rascal! You come with letters against the King, and + take Vanity the puppet's part against the royalty of her father. + Draw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks! Draw, you + rascal! Come your ways! + Osw. Help, ho! murther! help! + Kent. Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue! Stand, you neat slave! + Strike! [Beats him.] + Osw. Help, ho! murther! murther! + + Enter Edmund, with his rapier drawn, Gloucester, Cornwall, + Regan, Servants. + + Edm. How now? What's the matter? Parts [them]. + Kent. With you, goodman boy, an you please! Come, I'll flesh ye! + Come on, young master! + Glou. Weapons? arms? What's the matter here? + Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives! + He dies that strikes again. What is the matter? + Reg. The messengers from our sister and the King + Corn. What is your difference? Speak. + Osw. I am scarce in breath, my lord. + Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your valour. You cowardly + rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee. + Corn. Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man? + Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter could not have + made him so ill, though he had been but two hours at the trade. + Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? + Osw. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spar'd + At suit of his grey beard- + Kent. Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if + you'll give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into + mortar and daub the walls of a jakes with him. 'Spare my grey + beard,' you wagtail? + Corn. Peace, sirrah! + You beastly knave, know you no reverence? + Kent. Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege. + Corn. Why art thou angry? + Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a sword, + Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, + Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain + Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion + That in the natures of their lords rebel, + Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods; + Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks + With every gale and vary of their masters, + Knowing naught (like dogs) but following. + A plague upon your epileptic visage! + Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool? + Goose, an I had you upon Sarum Plain, + I'ld drive ye cackling home to Camelot. + Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow? + Glou. How fell you out? Say that. + Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy + Than I and such a knave. + Corn. Why dost thou call him knave? What is his fault? + Kent. His countenance likes me not. + Corn. No more perchance does mine, or his, or hers. + Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain. + I have seen better faces in my time + Than stands on any shoulder that I see + Before me at this instant. + Corn. This is some fellow + Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect + A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb + Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he! + An honest mind and plain- he must speak truth! + An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. + These kind of knaves I know which in this plainness + Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends + Than twenty silly-ducking observants + That stretch their duties nicely. + Kent. Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity, + Under th' allowance of your great aspect, + Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire + On flickering Phoebus' front- + Corn. What mean'st by this? + Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so much. I + know, sir, I am no flatterer. He that beguil'd you in a plain + accent was a plain knave, which, for my part, I will not be, + though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to't. + Corn. What was th' offence you gave him? + Osw. I never gave him any. + It pleas'd the King his master very late + To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; + When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure, + Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd + And put upon him such a deal of man + That worthied him, got praises of the King + For him attempting who was self-subdu'd; + And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit, + Drew on me here again. + Kent. None of these rogues and cowards + But Ajax is their fool. + Corn. Fetch forth the stocks! + You stubborn ancient knave, you reverent braggart, + We'll teach you- + Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn. + Call not your stocks for me. I serve the King; + On whose employment I was sent to you. + You shall do small respect, show too bold malice + Against the grace and person of my master, + Stocking his messenger. + Corn. Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and honour, + There shall he sit till noon. + Reg. Till noon? Till night, my lord, and all night too! + Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, + You should not use me so. + Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will. + Corn. This is a fellow of the selfsame colour + Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks! + Stocks brought out. + Glou. Let me beseech your Grace not to do so. + His fault is much, and the good King his master + Will check him for't. Your purpos'd low correction + Is such as basest and contemn'dest wretches + For pilf'rings and most common trespasses + Are punish'd with. The King must take it ill + That he, so slightly valued in his messenger, + Should have him thus restrain'd. + Corn. I'll answer that. + Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse, + To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted, + For following her affairs. Put in his legs.- + [Kent is put in the stocks.] + Come, my good lord, away. + Exeunt [all but Gloucester and Kent]. + Glou. I am sorry for thee, friend. 'Tis the Duke's pleasure, + Whose disposition, all the world well knows, + Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd. I'll entreat for thee. + Kent. Pray do not, sir. I have watch'd and travell'd hard. + Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle. + A good man's fortune may grow out at heels. + Give you good morrow! + Glou. The Duke 's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken. +Exit. + Kent. Good King, that must approve the common saw, + Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st + To the warm sun! + Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, + That by thy comfortable beams I may + Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles + But misery. I know 'tis from Cordelia, + Who hath most fortunately been inform'd + Of my obscured course- and [reads] 'shall find time + From this enormous state, seeking to give + Losses their remedies'- All weary and o'erwatch'd, + Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold + This shameful lodging. + Fortune, good night; smile once more, turn thy wheel. + Sleeps. + + + + +Scene III. +The open country. + +Enter Edgar. + + Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd, + And by the happy hollow of a tree + Escap'd the hunt. No port is free, no place + That guard and most unusual vigilance + Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape, + I will preserve myself; and am bethought + To take the basest and most poorest shape + That ever penury, in contempt of man, + Brought near to beast. My face I'll grime with filth, + Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots, + And with presented nakedness outface + The winds and persecutions of the sky. + The country gives me proof and precedent + Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, + Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms + Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary; + And with this horrible object, from low farms, + Poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills, + Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, + Enforce their charity. 'Poor Turlygod! poor Tom!' + That's something yet! Edgar I nothing am. Exit. + + + + +Scene IV. +Before Gloucester's Castle; Kent in the stocks. + +Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman. + + Lear. 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home, + And not send back my messenger. + Gent. As I learn'd, + The night before there was no purpose in them + Of this remove. + Kent. Hail to thee, noble master! + Lear. Ha! + Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime? + Kent. No, my lord. + Fool. Ha, ha! look! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the + head, dogs and bears by th' neck, monkeys by th' loins, and men + by th' legs. When a man's over-lusty at legs, then he wears + wooden nether-stocks. + Lear. What's he that hath so much thy place mistook + To set thee here? + Kent. It is both he and she- + Your son and daughter. + Lear. No. + Kent. Yes. + Lear. No, I say. + Kent. I say yea. + Lear. No, no, they would not! + Kent. Yes, they have. + Lear. By Jupiter, I swear no! + Kent. By Juno, I swear ay! + Lear. They durst not do't; + They would not, could not do't. 'Tis worse than murther + To do upon respect such violent outrage. + Resolve me with all modest haste which way + Thou mightst deserve or they impose this usage, + Coming from us. + Kent. My lord, when at their home + I did commend your Highness' letters to them, + Ere I was risen from the place that show'd + My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, + Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth + From Goneril his mistress salutations; + Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, + Which presently they read; on whose contents, + They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse, + Commanded me to follow and attend + The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks, + And meeting here the other messenger, + Whose welcome I perceiv'd had poison'd mine- + Being the very fellow which of late + Display'd so saucily against your Highness- + Having more man than wit about me, drew. + He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries. + Your son and daughter found this trespass worth + The shame which here it suffers. + Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way. + + Fathers that wear rags + Do make their children blind; + But fathers that bear bags + Shall see their children kind. + Fortune, that arrant whore, + Ne'er turns the key to th' poor. + + But for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy + daughters as thou canst tell in a year. + Lear. O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! + Hysterica passio! Down, thou climbing sorrow! + Thy element's below! Where is this daughter? + Kent. With the Earl, sir, here within. + Lear. Follow me not; + Stay here. Exit. + Gent. Made you no more offence but what you speak of? + Kent. None. + How chance the King comes with so small a number? + Fool. An thou hadst been set i' th' stocks for that question, + thou'dst well deserv'd it. + Kent. Why, fool? + Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no + labouring i' th' winter. All that follow their noses are led by + their eyes but blind men, and there's not a nose among twenty + but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great + wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following + it; but the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee after. + When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again. I + would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it. + That sir which serves and seeks for gain, + And follows but for form, + Will pack when it begins to rain + And leave thee in the storm. + But I will tarry; the fool will stay, + And let the wise man fly. + The knave turns fool that runs away; + The fool no knave, perdy. + Kent. Where learn'd you this, fool? + Fool. Not i' th' stocks, fool. + + Enter Lear and Gloucester + + Lear. Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary? + They have travell'd all the night? Mere fetches- + The images of revolt and flying off! + Fetch me a better answer. + Glou. My dear lord, + You know the fiery quality of the Duke, + How unremovable and fix'd he is + In his own course. + Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! + Fiery? What quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, + I'ld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. + Glou. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so. + Lear. Inform'd them? Dost thou understand me, man? + Glou. Ay, my good lord. + Lear. The King would speak with Cornwall; the dear father + Would with his daughter speak, commands her service. + Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood! + Fiery? the fiery Duke? Tell the hot Duke that- + No, but not yet! May be he is not well. + Infirmity doth still neglect all office + Whereto our health is bound. We are not ourselves + When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind + To suffer with the body. I'll forbear; + And am fallen out with my more headier will, + To take the indispos'd and sickly fit + For the sound man.- Death on my state! Wherefore + Should be sit here? This act persuades me + That this remotion of the Duke and her + Is practice only. Give me my servant forth. + Go tell the Duke and 's wife I'ld speak with them- + Now, presently. Bid them come forth and hear me, + Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum + Till it cry sleep to death. + Glou. I would have all well betwixt you. Exit. + Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart! But down! + Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she + put 'em i' th' paste alive. She knapp'd 'em o' th' coxcombs with + a stick and cried 'Down, wantons, down!' 'Twas her brother that, + in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay. + + Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, Servants. + + Lear. Good morrow to you both. + Corn. Hail to your Grace! + Kent here set at liberty. + Reg. I am glad to see your Highness. + Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know what reason + I have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad, + I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, + Sepulchring an adultress. [To Kent] O, are you free? + Some other time for that.- Beloved Regan, + Thy sister's naught. O Regan, she hath tied + Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here! + [Lays his hand on his heart.] + I can scarce speak to thee. Thou'lt not believe + With how deprav'd a quality- O Regan! + Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope + You less know how to value her desert + Than she to scant her duty. + Lear. Say, how is that? + Reg. I cannot think my sister in the least + Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance + She have restrain'd the riots of your followers, + 'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, + As clears her from all blame. + Lear. My curses on her! + Reg. O, sir, you are old! + Nature in you stands on the very verge + Of her confine. You should be rul'd, and led + By some discretion that discerns your state + Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you + That to our sister you do make return; + Say you have wrong'd her, sir. + Lear. Ask her forgiveness? + Do you but mark how this becomes the house: + 'Dear daughter, I confess that I am old. [Kneels.] + Age is unnecessary. On my knees I beg + That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.' + Reg. Good sir, no more! These are unsightly tricks. + Return you to my sister. + Lear. [rises] Never, Regan! + She hath abated me of half my train; + Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue, + Most serpent-like, upon the very heart. + All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall + On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones, + You taking airs, with lameness! + Corn. Fie, sir, fie! + Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames + Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, + You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the pow'rful sun, + To fall and blast her pride! + Reg. O the blest gods! so will you wish on me + When the rash mood is on. + Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse. + Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give + Thee o'er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce; but thine + Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee + To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, + To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, + And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt + Against my coming in. Thou better know'st + The offices of nature, bond of childhood, + Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude. + Thy half o' th' kingdom hast thou not forgot, + Wherein I thee endow'd. + Reg. Good sir, to th' purpose. + Tucket within. + Lear. Who put my man i' th' stocks? + Corn. What trumpet's that? + Reg. I know't- my sister's. This approves her letter, + That she would soon be here. + + Enter [Oswald the] Steward. + + Is your lady come? + Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrowed pride + Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. + Out, varlet, from my sight! + Corn. What means your Grace? + + Enter Goneril. + + Lear. Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope + Thou didst not know on't.- Who comes here? O heavens! + If you do love old men, if your sweet sway + Allow obedience- if yourselves are old, + Make it your cause! Send down, and take my part! + [To Goneril] Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?- + O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? + Gon. Why not by th' hand, sir? How have I offended? + All's not offence that indiscretion finds + And dotage terms so. + Lear. O sides, you are too tough! + Will you yet hold? How came my man i' th' stocks? + Corn. I set him there, sir; but his own disorders + Deserv'd much less advancement. + Lear. You? Did you? + Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. + If, till the expiration of your month, + You will return and sojourn with my sister, + Dismissing half your train, come then to me. + I am now from home, and out of that provision + Which shall be needful for your entertainment. + Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd? + No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose + To wage against the enmity o' th' air, + To be a comrade with the wolf and owl- + Necessity's sharp pinch! Return with her? + Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took + Our youngest born, I could as well be brought + To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg + To keep base life afoot. Return with her? + Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter + To this detested groom. [Points at Oswald.] + Gon. At your choice, sir. + Lear. I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad. + I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell. + We'll no more meet, no more see one another. + But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; + Or rather a disease that's in my flesh, + Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil, + A plague sore, an embossed carbuncle + In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee. + Let shame come when it will, I do not call it. + I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoot + Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. + Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure; + I can be patient, I can stay with Regan, + I and my hundred knights. + Reg. Not altogether so. + I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided + For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; + For those that mingle reason with your passion + Must be content to think you old, and so- + But she knows what she does. + Lear. Is this well spoken? + Reg. I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers? + Is it not well? What should you need of more? + Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger + Speak 'gainst so great a number? How in one house + Should many people, under two commands, + Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible. + Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance + From those that she calls servants, or from mine? + Reg. Why not, my lord? If then they chanc'd to slack ye, + We could control them. If you will come to me + (For now I spy a danger), I entreat you + To bring but five-and-twenty. To no more + Will I give place or notice. + Lear. I gave you all- + Reg. And in good time you gave it! + Lear. Made you my guardians, my depositaries; + But kept a reservation to be followed + With such a number. What, must I come to you + With five-and-twenty, Regan? Said you so? + Reg. And speak't again my lord. No more with me. + Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd + When others are more wicked; not being the worst + Stands in some rank of praise. [To Goneril] I'll go with thee. + Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty, + And thou art twice her love. + Gon. Hear, me, my lord. + What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five, + To follow in a house where twice so many + Have a command to tend you? + Reg. What need one? + Lear. O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars + Are in the poorest thing superfluous. + Allow not nature more than nature needs, + Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady: + If only to go warm were gorgeous, + Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st + Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need- + You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need! + You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, + As full of grief as age; wretched in both. + If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts + Against their father, fool me not so much + To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger, + And let not women's weapons, water drops, + Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags! + I will have such revenges on you both + That all the world shall- I will do such things- + What they are yet, I know not; but they shall be + The terrors of the earth! You think I'll weep. + No, I'll not weep. + I have full cause of weeping, but this heart + Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws + Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad! + Exeunt Lear, Gloucester, Kent, and Fool. Storm and + tempest. + Corn. Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm. + Reg. This house is little; the old man and 's people + Cannot be well bestow'd. + Gon. 'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest + And must needs taste his folly. + Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, + But not one follower. + Gon. So am I purpos'd. + Where is my Lord of Gloucester? + Corn. Followed the old man forth. + + Enter Gloucester. + + He is return'd. + Glou. The King is in high rage. + Corn. Whither is he going? + Glou. He calls to horse, but will I know not whither. + Corn. 'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself. + Gon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. + Glou. Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds + Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about + There's scarce a bush. + Reg. O, sir, to wilful men + The injuries that they themselves procure + Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors. + He is attended with a desperate train, + And what they may incense him to, being apt + To have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear. + Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord: 'tis a wild night. + My Regan counsels well. Come out o' th' storm. [Exeunt.] + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. Scene I. +A heath. + +Storm still. Enter Kent and a Gentleman at several doors. + + Kent. Who's there, besides foul weather? + Gent. One minded like the weather, most unquietly. + Kent. I know you. Where's the King? + Gent. Contending with the fretful elements; + Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, + Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, + That things might change or cease; tears his white hair, + Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, + Catch in their fury and make nothing of; + Strives in his little world of man to outscorn + The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. + This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, + The lion and the belly-pinched wolf + Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, + And bids what will take all. + Kent. But who is with him? + Gent. None but the fool, who labours to outjest + His heart-struck injuries. + Kent. Sir, I do know you, + And dare upon the warrant of my note + Commend a dear thing to you. There is division + (Although as yet the face of it be cover'd + With mutual cunning) 'twixt Albany and Cornwall; + Who have (as who have not, that their great stars + Thron'd and set high?) servants, who seem no less, + Which are to France the spies and speculations + Intelligent of our state. What hath been seen, + Either in snuffs and packings of the Dukes, + Or the hard rein which both of them have borne + Against the old kind King, or something deeper, + Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings- + But, true it is, from France there comes a power + Into this scattered kingdom, who already, + Wise in our negligence, have secret feet + In some of our best ports and are at point + To show their open banner. Now to you: + If on my credit you dare build so far + To make your speed to Dover, you shall find + Some that will thank you, making just report + Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow + The King hath cause to plain. + I am a gentleman of blood and breeding, + And from some knowledge and assurance offer + This office to you. + Gent. I will talk further with you. + Kent. No, do not. + For confirmation that I am much more + Than my out-wall, open this purse and take + What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia + (As fear not but you shall), show her this ring, + And she will tell you who your fellow is + That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm! + I will go seek the King. + Gent. Give me your hand. Have you no more to say? + Kent. Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet: + That, when we have found the King (in which your pain + That way, I'll this), he that first lights on him + Holla the other. + Exeunt [severally]. + + + + +Scene II. +Another part of the heath. + +Storm still. Enter Lear and Fool. + + Lear. Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! + You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout + Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! + You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires, + Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, + Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, + Strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world, + Crack Nature's moulds, all germains spill at once, + That makes ingrateful man! + Fool. O nuncle, court holy water in a dry house is better than this + rain water out o' door. Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters + blessing! Here's a night pities nether wise men nor fools. + Lear. Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain! + Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters. + I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness. + I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, + You owe me no subscription. Then let fall + Your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave, + A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man. + But yet I call you servile ministers, + That will with two pernicious daughters join + Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head + So old and white as this! O! O! 'tis foul! + Fool. He that has a house to put 's head in has a good head-piece. + The codpiece that will house + Before the head has any, + The head and he shall louse: + So beggars marry many. + The man that makes his toe + What he his heart should make + Shall of a corn cry woe, + And turn his sleep to wake. + For there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a + glass. + + Enter Kent. + + Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience; + I will say nothing. + Kent. Who's there? + Fool. Marry, here's grace and a codpiece; that's a wise man and a + fool. + Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? Things that love night + Love not such nights as these. The wrathful skies + Gallow the very wanderers of the dark + And make them keep their caves. Since I was man, + Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, + Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never + Remember to have heard. Man's nature cannot carry + Th' affliction nor the fear. + Lear. Let the great gods, + That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, + Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, + That hast within thee undivulged crimes + Unwhipp'd of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand; + Thou perjur'd, and thou simular man of virtue + That art incestuous. Caitiff, in pieces shake + That under covert and convenient seeming + Hast practis'd on man's life. Close pent-up guilts, + Rive your concealing continents, and cry + These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man + More sinn'd against than sinning. + Kent. Alack, bareheaded? + Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; + Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest. + Repose you there, whilst I to this hard house + (More harder than the stones whereof 'tis rais'd, + Which even but now, demanding after you, + Denied me to come in) return, and force + Their scanted courtesy. + Lear. My wits begin to turn. + Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold? + I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow? + The art of our necessities is strange, + That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. + Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart + That's sorry yet for thee. + Fool. [sings] + + He that has and a little tiny wit- + With hey, ho, the wind and the rain- + Must make content with his fortunes fit, + For the rain it raineth every day. + + Lear. True, my good boy. Come, bring us to this hovel. + Exeunt [Lear and Kent]. + Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtesan. I'll speak a + prophecy ere I go: + When priests are more in word than matter; + When brewers mar their malt with water; + When nobles are their tailors' tutors, + No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors; + When every case in law is right, + No squire in debt nor no poor knight; + When slanders do not live in tongues, + Nor cutpurses come not to throngs; + When usurers tell their gold i' th' field, + And bawds and whores do churches build: + Then shall the realm of Albion + Come to great confusion. + Then comes the time, who lives to see't, + That going shall be us'd with feet. + This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I live before his time. +Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +Gloucester's Castle. + +Enter Gloucester and Edmund. + + Glou. Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing! When + I desir'd their leave that I might pity him, they took from me + the use of mine own house, charg'd me on pain of perpetual + displeasure neither to speak of him, entreat for him, nor any + way sustain him. + Edm. Most savage and unnatural! + Glou. Go to; say you nothing. There is division betwixt the Dukes, + and a worse matter than that. I have received a letter this + night- 'tis dangerous to be spoken- I have lock'd the letter in + my closet. These injuries the King now bears will be revenged + home; there's part of a power already footed; we must incline to + the King. I will seek him and privily relieve him. Go you and + maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him + perceived. If he ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed. Though I + die for't, as no less is threat'ned me, the King my old master + must be relieved. There is some strange thing toward, Edmund. + Pray you be careful. Exit. + Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the Duke + Instantly know, and of that letter too. + This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me + That which my father loses- no less than all. + The younger rises when the old doth fall. Exit. + + + + +Scene IV. +The heath. Before a hovel. + +Storm still. Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. + + Kent. Here is the place, my lord. Good my lord, enter. + The tyranny of the open night 's too rough + For nature to endure. + Lear. Let me alone. + Kent. Good my lord, enter here. + Lear. Wilt break my heart? + Kent. I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter. + Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm + Invades us to the skin. So 'tis to thee; + But where the greater malady is fix'd, + The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear; + But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, + Thou'dst meet the bear i' th' mouth. When the mind's free, + The body's delicate. The tempest in my mind + Doth from my senses take all feeling else + Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude! + Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand + For lifting food to't? But I will punish home! + No, I will weep no more. In such a night + 'To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure. + In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril! + Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all! + O, that way madness lies; let me shun that! + No more of that. + Kent. Good my lord, enter here. + Lear. Prithee go in thyself; seek thine own ease. + This tempest will not give me leave to ponder + On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in. + [To the Fool] In, boy; go first.- You houseless poverty- + Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. + Exit [Fool]. + Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, + That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, + How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, + Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you + From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en + Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; + Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, + That thou mayst shake the superflux to them + And show the heavens more just. + Edg. [within] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom! + + Enter Fool [from the hovel]. + + Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit. Help me, help me! + Kent. Give me thy hand. Who's there? + Fool. A spirit, a spirit! He says his name's poor Tom. + Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i' th' straw? + Come forth. + + Enter Edgar [disguised as a madman]. + + Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me! Through the sharp hawthorn + blows the cold wind. Humh! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. + Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daughters, and art thou come + to this? + Edg. Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led + through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, o'er + bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow and + halters in his pew, set ratsbane by his porridge, made him proud + of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse over four-inch'd + bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five + wits! Tom 's acold. O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from + whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, + whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now- and there- + and there again- and there! + Storm still. + Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to this pass? + Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give 'em all? + Fool. Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, else we had been all sham'd. + Lear. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air + Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters! + Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. + Lear. Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd nature + To such a lowness but his unkind daughters. + Is it the fashion that discarded fathers + Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? + Judicious punishment! 'Twas this flesh begot + Those pelican daughters. + Edg. Pillicock sat on Pillicock's Hill. 'Allow, 'allow, loo, loo! + Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. + Edg. Take heed o' th' foul fiend; obey thy parents: keep thy word + justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not + thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom 's acold. + Lear. What hast thou been? + Edg. A servingman, proud in heart and mind; that curl'd my hair, + wore gloves in my cap; serv'd the lust of my mistress' heart and + did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake + words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one that + slept in the contriving of lust, and wak'd to do it. Wine lov'd + I deeply, dice dearly; and in woman out-paramour'd the Turk. + False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox + in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. + Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray + thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy foot out of brothel, thy hand + out of placket, thy pen from lender's book, and defy the foul + fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind; says + suum, mun, hey, no, nonny. Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let + him trot by. + Storm still. + Lear. Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with thy + uncover'd body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than + this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast + no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! Here's three + on's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself; + unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked + animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come, unbutton + here. + [Tears at his clothes.] + Fool. Prithee, nuncle, be contented! 'Tis a naughty night to swim + in. Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher's + heart- a small spark, all the rest on's body cold. Look, here + comes a walking fire. + + Enter Gloucester with a torch. + + Edg. This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet. He begins at curfew, + and walks till the first cock. He gives the web and the pin, + squints the eye, and makes the harelip; mildews the white wheat, + and hurts the poor creature of earth. + + Saint Withold footed thrice the 'old; + He met the nightmare, and her nine fold; + Bid her alight + And her troth plight, + And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee! + + Kent. How fares your Grace? + Lear. What's he? + Kent. Who's there? What is't you seek? + Glou. What are you there? Your names? + Edg. Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, + the wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when + the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets, swallows the + old rat and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of the + standing pool; who is whipp'd from tithing to tithing, and + stock-punish'd and imprison'd; who hath had three suits to his + back, six shirts to his body, horse to ride, and weapons to + wear; + + But mice and rats, and such small deer, + Have been Tom's food for seven long year. + + Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin! peace, thou fiend! + Glou. What, hath your Grace no better company? + Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman! + Modo he's call'd, and Mahu. + Glou. Our flesh and blood is grown so vile, my lord, + That it doth hate what gets it. + Edg. Poor Tom 's acold. + Glou. Go in with me. My duty cannot suffer + T' obey in all your daughters' hard commands. + Though their injunction be to bar my doors + And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, + Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out + And bring you where both fire and food is ready. + Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher. + What is the cause of thunder? + Kent. Good my lord, take his offer; go into th' house. + Lear. I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban. + What is your study? + Edg. How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin. + Lear. Let me ask you one word in private. + Kent. Importune him once more to go, my lord. + His wits begin t' unsettle. + Glou. Canst thou blame him? + Storm still. + His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent! + He said it would be thus- poor banish'd man! + Thou say'st the King grows mad: I'll tell thee, friend, + I am almost mad myself. I had a son, + Now outlaw'd from my blood. He sought my life + But lately, very late. I lov'd him, friend- + No father his son dearer. True to tell thee, + The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night 's this! + I do beseech your Grace- + Lear. O, cry you mercy, sir. + Noble philosopher, your company. + Edg. Tom's acold. + Glou. In, fellow, there, into th' hovel; keep thee warm. + Lear. Come, let's in all. + Kent. This way, my lord. + Lear. With him! + I will keep still with my philosopher. + Kent. Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow. + Glou. Take him you on. + Kent. Sirrah, come on; go along with us. + Lear. Come, good Athenian. + Glou. No words, no words! hush. + Edg. Child Rowland to the dark tower came; + His word was still + + Fie, foh, and fum! + I smell the blood of a British man. + Exeunt. + +Scene V. +Gloucester's Castle. + +Enter Cornwall and Edmund. + + Corn. I will have my revenge ere I depart his house. + Edm. How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus gives way to + loyalty, something fears me to think of. + Corn. I now perceive it was not altogether your brother's evil + disposition made him seek his death; but a provoking merit, set + awork by a reproveable badness in himself. + Edm. How malicious is my fortune that I must repent to be just! + This is the letter he spoke of, which approves him an + intelligent party to the advantages of France. O heavens! that + this treason were not- or not I the detector! + Corn. Go with me to the Duchess. + Edm. If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty + business in hand. + Corn. True or false, it hath made thee Earl of Gloucester. + Seek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our + apprehension. + Edm. [aside] If I find him comforting the King, it will stuff his + suspicion more fully.- I will persever in my course of loyalty, + though the conflict be sore between that and my blood. + Corn. I will lay trust upon thee, and thou shalt find a dearer + father in my love. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene VI. +A farmhouse near Gloucester's Castle. + +Enter Gloucester, Lear, Kent, Fool, and Edgar. + + Glou. Here is better than the open air; take it thankfully. I will + piece out the comfort with what addition I can. I will not be + long from you. + Kent. All the power of his wits have given way to his impatience. + The gods reward your kindness! + Exit [Gloucester]. + Edg. Frateretto calls me, and tells me Nero is an angler in the + lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend. + Fool. Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a gentleman or a + yeoman. + Lear. A king, a king! + Fool. No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son; for he's a + mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman before him. + Lear. To have a thousand with red burning spits + Come hizzing in upon 'em- + Edg. The foul fiend bites my back. + Fool. He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horse's + health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath. + Lear. It shall be done; I will arraign them straight. + [To Edgar] Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer. + [To the Fool] Thou, sapient sir, sit here. Now, you she-foxes! + Edg. Look, where he stands and glares! Want'st thou eyes at trial, + madam? + + Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me. + + Fool. Her boat hath a leak, + And she must not speak + Why she dares not come over to thee. + + Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale. + Hoppedance cries in Tom's belly for two white herring. Croak + not, black angel; I have no food for thee. + Kent. How do you, sir? Stand you not so amaz'd. + Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions? + Lear. I'll see their trial first. Bring in their evidence. + [To Edgar] Thou, robed man of justice, take thy place. + [To the Fool] And thou, his yokefellow of equity, + Bench by his side. [To Kent] You are o' th' commission, + Sit you too. + Edg. Let us deal justly. + + Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd? + Thy sheep be in the corn; + And for one blast of thy minikin mouth + Thy sheep shall take no harm. + + Purr! the cat is gray. + Lear. Arraign her first. 'Tis Goneril. I here take my oath before + this honourable assembly, she kicked the poor King her father. + Fool. Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril? + Lear. She cannot deny it. + Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool. + Lear. And here's another, whose warp'd looks proclaim + What store her heart is made on. Stop her there! + Arms, arms! sword! fire! Corruption in the place! + False justicer, why hast thou let her scape? + Edg. Bless thy five wits! + Kent. O pity! Sir, where is the patience now + That you so oft have boasted to retain? + Edg. [aside] My tears begin to take his part so much + They'll mar my counterfeiting. + Lear. The little dogs and all, + Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me. + Edg. Tom will throw his head at them. Avaunt, you curs! + Be thy mouth or black or white, + Tooth that poisons if it bite; + Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim, + Hound or spaniel, brach or lym, + Bobtail tyke or trundle-tall- + Tom will make them weep and wail; + For, with throwing thus my head, + Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled. + Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes and fairs and market + towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry. + Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan. See what breeds about her + heart. Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard + hearts? [To Edgar] You, sir- I entertain you for one of my + hundred; only I do not like the fashion of your garments. You'll + say they are Persian attire; but let them be chang'd. + Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile. + Lear. Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains. + So, so, so. We'll go to supper i' th' morning. So, so, so. + Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon. + + Enter Gloucester. + + Glou. Come hither, friend. Where is the King my master? + Kent. Here, sir; but trouble him not; his wits are gone. + Glou. Good friend, I prithee take him in thy arms. + I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him. + There is a litter ready; lay him in't + And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet + Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master. + If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life, + With thine, and all that offer to defend him, + Stand in assured loss. Take up, take up! + And follow me, that will to some provision + Give thee quick conduct. + Kent. Oppressed nature sleeps. + This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses, + Which, if convenience will not allow, + Stand in hard cure. [To the Fool] Come, help to bear thy master. + Thou must not stay behind. + Glou. Come, come, away! + Exeunt [all but Edgar]. + Edg. When we our betters see bearing our woes, + We scarcely think our miseries our foes. + Who alone suffers suffers most i' th' mind, + Leaving free things and happy shows behind; + But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip + When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. + How light and portable my pain seems now, + When that which makes me bend makes the King bow, + He childed as I fathered! Tom, away! + Mark the high noises, and thyself bewray + When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee, + In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee. + What will hap more to-night, safe scape the King! + Lurk, lurk. [Exit.] + + + + +Scene VII. +Gloucester's Castle. + +Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, [Edmund the] Bastard, and Servants. + + Corn. [to Goneril] Post speedily to my lord your husband, show him + this letter. The army of France is landed.- Seek out the traitor + Gloucester. + [Exeunt some of the Servants.] + Reg. Hang him instantly. + Gon. Pluck out his eyes. + Corn. Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our sister + company. The revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous + father are not fit for your beholding. Advise the Duke where you + are going, to a most festinate preparation. We are bound to the + like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us. + Farewell, dear sister; farewell, my Lord of Gloucester. + + Enter [Oswald the] Steward. + + How now? Where's the King? + Osw. My Lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence. + Some five or six and thirty of his knights, + Hot questrists after him, met him at gate; + Who, with some other of the lord's dependants, + Are gone with him towards Dover, where they boast + To have well-armed friends. + Corn. Get horses for your mistress. + Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. + Corn. Edmund, farewell. + Exeunt Goneril, [Edmund, and Oswald]. + Go seek the traitor Gloucester, + Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. + [Exeunt other Servants.] + Though well we may not pass upon his life + Without the form of justice, yet our power + Shall do a court'sy to our wrath, which men + May blame, but not control. + + Enter Gloucester, brought in by two or three. + + Who's there? the traitor? + Reg. Ingrateful fox! 'tis he. + Corn. Bind fast his corky arms. + Glou. What mean, your Graces? Good my friends, consider + You are my guests. Do me no foul play, friends. + Corn. Bind him, I say. + [Servants bind him.] + Reg. Hard, hard. O filthy traitor! + Glou. Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none. + Corn. To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find- + [Regan plucks his beard.] + Glou. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done + To pluck me by the beard. + Reg. So white, and such a traitor! + Glou. Naughty lady, + These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin + Will quicken, and accuse thee. I am your host. + With robber's hands my hospitable favours + You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? + Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late from France? + Reg. Be simple-answer'd, for we know the truth. + Corn. And what confederacy have you with the traitors + Late footed in the kingdom? + Reg. To whose hands have you sent the lunatic King? + Speak. + Glou. I have a letter guessingly set down, + Which came from one that's of a neutral heart, + And not from one oppos'd. + Corn. Cunning. + Reg. And false. + Corn. Where hast thou sent the King? + Glou. To Dover. + Reg. Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charg'd at peril- + Corn. Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that. + Glou. I am tied to th' stake, and I must stand the course. + Reg. Wherefore to Dover, sir? + Glou. Because I would not see thy cruel nails + Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister + In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. + The sea, with such a storm as his bare head + In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up + And quench'd the steeled fires. + Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain. + If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time, + Thou shouldst have said, 'Good porter, turn the key.' + All cruels else subscrib'd. But I shall see + The winged vengeance overtake such children. + Corn. See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair. + Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot. + Glou. He that will think to live till he be old, + Give me some help!- O cruel! O ye gods! + Reg. One side will mock another. Th' other too! + Corn. If you see vengeance- + 1. Serv. Hold your hand, my lord! + I have serv'd you ever since I was a child; + But better service have I never done you + Than now to bid you hold. + Reg. How now, you dog? + 1. Serv. If you did wear a beard upon your chin, + I'ld shake it on this quarrel. + Reg. What do you mean? + Corn. My villain! Draw and fight. + 1. Serv. Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger. + Reg. Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus? + She takes a sword and runs at him behind. + 1. Serv. O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left + To see some mischief on him. O! He dies. + Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly! + Where is thy lustre now? + Glou. All dark and comfortless! Where's my son Edmund? + Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature + To quit this horrid act. + Reg. Out, treacherous villain! + Thou call'st on him that hates thee. It was he + That made the overture of thy treasons to us; + Who is too good to pity thee. + Glou. O my follies! Then Edgar was abus'd. + Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him! + Reg. Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell + His way to Dover. + Exit [one] with Gloucester. + How is't, my lord? How look you? + Corn. I have receiv'd a hurt. Follow me, lady. + Turn out that eyeless villain. Throw this slave + Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace. + Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm. + Exit [Cornwall, led by Regan]. + 2. Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I do, + If this man come to good. + 3. Serv. If she live long, + And in the end meet the old course of death, + Women will all turn monsters. + 2. Serv. Let's follow the old Earl, and get the bedlam + To lead him where he would. His roguish madness + Allows itself to anything. + 3. Serv. Go thou. I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs + To apply to his bleeding face. Now heaven help him! + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. Scene I. +The heath. + +Enter Edgar. + + Edg. Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd, + Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst, + The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune, + Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear. + The lamentable change is from the best; + The worst returns to laughter. Welcome then, + Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace! + The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst + Owes nothing to thy blasts. + + Enter Gloucester, led by an Old Man. + + But who comes here? + My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! + But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, + Life would not yield to age. + Old Man. O my good lord, + I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant, + These fourscore years. + Glou. Away, get thee away! Good friend, be gone. + Thy comforts can do me no good at all; + Thee they may hurt. + Old Man. You cannot see your way. + Glou. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes; + I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen + Our means secure us, and our mere defects + Prove our commodities. Ah dear son Edgar, + The food of thy abused father's wrath! + Might I but live to see thee in my touch, + I'ld say I had eyes again! + Old Man. How now? Who's there? + Edg. [aside] O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at the worst'? + I am worse than e'er I was. + Old Man. 'Tis poor mad Tom. + Edg. [aside] And worse I may be yet. The worst is not + So long as we can say 'This is the worst.' + Old Man. Fellow, where goest? + Glou. Is it a beggarman? + Old Man. Madman and beggar too. + Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg. + I' th' last night's storm I such a fellow saw, + Which made me think a man a worm. My son + Came then into my mind, and yet my mind + Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more since. + As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods. + They kill us for their sport. + Edg. [aside] How should this be? + Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, + Ang'ring itself and others.- Bless thee, master! + Glou. Is that the naked fellow? + Old Man. Ay, my lord. + Glou. Then prithee get thee gone. If for my sake + Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain + I' th' way toward Dover, do it for ancient love; + And bring some covering for this naked soul, + Who I'll entreat to lead me. + Old Man. Alack, sir, he is mad! + Glou. 'Tis the time's plague when madmen lead the blind. + Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure. + Above the rest, be gone. + Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have, + Come on't what will. Exit. + Glou. Sirrah naked fellow- + Edg. Poor Tom's acold. [Aside] I cannot daub it further. + Glou. Come hither, fellow. + Edg. [aside] And yet I must.- Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed. + Glou. Know'st thou the way to Dover? + Edg. Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. Poor Tom hath been + scar'd out of his good wits. Bless thee, good man's son, from + the foul fiend! Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once: of + lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of + stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and + mowing, who since possesses chambermaids and waiting women. So, + bless thee, master! + Glou. Here, take this Purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues + Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched + Makes thee the happier. Heavens, deal so still! + Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, + That slaves your ordinance, that will not see + Because he does not feel, feel your pow'r quickly; + So distribution should undo excess, + And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover? + Edg. Ay, master. + Glou. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head + Looks fearfully in the confined deep. + Bring me but to the very brim of it, + And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear + With something rich about me. From that place + I shall no leading need. + Edg. Give me thy arm. + Poor Tom shall lead thee. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Before the Duke of Albany's Palace. + +Enter Goneril and [Edmund the] Bastard. + + Gon. Welcome, my lord. I marvel our mild husband + Not met us on the way. + + Enter [Oswald the] Steward. + + Now, where's your master? + Osw. Madam, within, but never man so chang'd. + I told him of the army that was landed: + He smil'd at it. I told him you were coming: + His answer was, 'The worse.' Of Gloucester's treachery + And of the loyal service of his son + When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot + And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out. + What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him; + What like, offensive. + Gon. [to Edmund] Then shall you go no further. + It is the cowish terror of his spirit, + That dares not undertake. He'll not feel wrongs + Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way + May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother. + Hasten his musters and conduct his pow'rs. + I must change arms at home and give the distaff + Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant + Shall pass between us. Ere long you are like to hear + (If you dare venture in your own behalf) + A mistress's command. Wear this. [Gives a favour.] + Spare speech. + Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak, + Would stretch thy spirits up into the air. + Conceive, and fare thee well. + Edm. Yours in the ranks of death! Exit. + Gon. My most dear Gloucester! + O, the difference of man and man! + To thee a woman's services are due; + My fool usurps my body. + Osw. Madam, here comes my lord. Exit. + + Enter Albany. + + Gon. I have been worth the whistle. + Alb. O Goneril, + You are not worth the dust which the rude wind + Blows in your face! I fear your disposition. + That nature which contemns it origin + Cannot be bordered certain in itself. + She that herself will sliver and disbranch + From her material sap, perforce must wither + And come to deadly use. + Gon. No more! The text is foolish. + Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile; + Filths savour but themselves. What have you done? + Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd? + A father, and a gracious aged man, + Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd bear would lick, + Most barbarous, most degenerate, have you madded. + Could my good brother suffer you to do it? + A man, a prince, by him so benefited! + If that the heavens do not their visible spirits + Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, + It will come, + Humanity must perforce prey on itself, + Like monsters of the deep. + Gon. Milk-liver'd man! + That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; + Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning + Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st + Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd + Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum? + France spreads his banners in our noiseless land, + With plumed helm thy state begins to threat, + Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest + 'Alack, why does he so?' + Alb. See thyself, devil! + Proper deformity seems not in the fiend + So horrid as in woman. + Gon. O vain fool! + Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame! + Bemonster not thy feature! Were't my fitness + To let these hands obey my blood, + They are apt enough to dislocate and tear + Thy flesh and bones. Howe'er thou art a fiend, + A woman's shape doth shield thee. + Gon. Marry, your manhood mew! + + Enter a Gentleman. + + Alb. What news? + Gent. O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall 's dead, + Slain by his servant, going to put out + The other eye of Gloucester. + Alb. Gloucester's eyes? + Gent. A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, + Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword + To his great master; who, thereat enrag'd, + Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead; + But not without that harmful stroke which since + Hath pluck'd him after. + Alb. This shows you are above, + You justicers, that these our nether crimes + So speedily can venge! But O poor Gloucester! + Lose he his other eye? + Gent. Both, both, my lord. + This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer. + 'Tis from your sister. + Gon. [aside] One way I like this well; + But being widow, and my Gloucester with her, + May all the building in my fancy pluck + Upon my hateful life. Another way + The news is not so tart.- I'll read, and answer. +Exit. + Alb. Where was his son when they did take his eyes? + Gent. Come with my lady hither. + Alb. He is not here. + Gent. No, my good lord; I met him back again. + Alb. Knows he the wickedness? + Gent. Ay, my good lord. 'Twas he inform'd against him, + And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment + Might have the freer course. + Alb. Gloucester, I live + To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the King, + And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend. + Tell me what more thou know'st. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +The French camp near Dover. + +Enter Kent and a Gentleman. + + Kent. Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back know you the + reason? + Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his + coming forth is thought of, which imports to the kingdom so much + fear and danger that his personal return was most required and + necessary. + Kent. Who hath he left behind him general? + Gent. The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far. + Kent. Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration of + grief? + Gent. Ay, sir. She took them, read them in my presence, + And now and then an ample tear trill'd down + Her delicate cheek. It seem'd she was a queen + Over her passion, who, most rebel-like, + Sought to be king o'er her. + Kent. O, then it mov'd her? + Gent. Not to a rage. Patience and sorrow strove + Who should express her goodliest. You have seen + Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears + Were like, a better way. Those happy smilets + That play'd on her ripe lip seem'd not to know + What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence + As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief, + Sorrow would be a rarity most belov'd, + If all could so become it. + Kent. Made she no verbal question? + Gent. Faith, once or twice she heav'd the name of father + Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart; + Cried 'Sisters, sisters! Shame of ladies! Sisters! + Kent! father! sisters! What, i' th' storm? i' th' night? + Let pity not be believ'd!' There she shook + The holy water from her heavenly eyes, + And clamour moisten'd. Then away she started + To deal with grief alone. + Kent. It is the stars, + The stars above us, govern our conditions; + Else one self mate and mate could not beget + Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? + Gent. No. + Kent. Was this before the King return'd? + Gent. No, since. + Kent. Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' th' town; + Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers + What we are come about, and by no means + Will yield to see his daughter. + Gent. Why, good sir? + Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him; his own unkindness, + That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her + To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights + To his dog-hearted daughters- these things sting + His mind so venomously that burning shame + Detains him from Cordelia. + Gent. Alack, poor gentleman! + Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? + Gent. 'Tis so; they are afoot. + Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear + And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause + Will in concealment wrap me up awhile. + When I am known aright, you shall not grieve + Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you go + Along with me. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +The French camp. + +Enter, with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Doctor, and Soldiers. + + Cor. Alack, 'tis he! Why, he was met even now + As mad as the vex'd sea, singing aloud, + Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow weeds, + With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo flow'rs, + Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow + In our sustaining corn. A century send forth. + Search every acre in the high-grown field + And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.] What can man's + wisdom + In the restoring his bereaved sense? + He that helps him take all my outward worth. + Doct. There is means, madam. + Our foster nurse of nature is repose, + The which he lacks. That to provoke in him + Are many simples operative, whose power + Will close the eye of anguish. + Cor. All blest secrets, + All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, + Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate + In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him! + Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life + That wants the means to lead it. + + Enter Messenger. + + Mess. News, madam. + The British pow'rs are marching hitherward. + Cor. 'Tis known before. Our preparation stands + In expectation of them. O dear father, + It is thy business that I go about. + Therefore great France + My mourning and important tears hath pitied. + No blown ambition doth our arms incite, + But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right. + Soon may I hear and see him! + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene V. +Gloucester's Castle. + +Enter Regan and [Oswald the] Steward. + + Reg. But are my brother's pow'rs set forth? + Osw. Ay, madam. + Reg. Himself in person there? + Osw. Madam, with much ado. + Your sister is the better soldier. + Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? + Osw. No, madam. + Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him? + Osw. I know not, lady. + Reg. Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. + It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes being out, + To let him live. Where he arrives he moves + All hearts against us. Edmund, I think, is gone, + In pity of his misery, to dispatch + His nighted life; moreover, to descry + The strength o' th' enemy. + Osw. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. + Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow. Stay with us. + The ways are dangerous. + Osw. I may not, madam. + My lady charg'd my duty in this business. + Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you + Transport her purposes by word? Belike, + Something- I know not what- I'll love thee much- + Let me unseal the letter. + Osw. Madam, I had rather- + Reg. I know your lady does not love her husband; + I am sure of that; and at her late being here + She gave strange eliads and most speaking looks + To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom. + Osw. I, madam? + Reg. I speak in understanding. Y'are! I know't. + Therefore I do advise you take this note. + My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd, + And more convenient is he for my hand + Than for your lady's. You may gather more. + If you do find him, pray you give him this; + And when your mistress hears thus much from you, + I pray desire her call her wisdom to her. + So farewell. + If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, + Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. + Osw. Would I could meet him, madam! I should show + What party I do follow. + Reg. Fare thee well. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene VI. +The country near Dover. + +Enter Gloucester, and Edgar [like a Peasant]. + + Glou. When shall I come to th' top of that same hill? + Edg. You do climb up it now. Look how we labour. + Glou. Methinks the ground is even. + Edg. Horrible steep. + Hark, do you hear the sea? + Glou. No, truly. + Edg. Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect + By your eyes' anguish. + Glou. So may it be indeed. + Methinks thy voice is alter'd, and thou speak'st + In better phrase and matter than thou didst. + Edg. Y'are much deceiv'd. In nothing am I chang'd + But in my garments. + Glou. Methinks y'are better spoken. + Edg. Come on, sir; here's the place. Stand still. How fearful + And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low! + The crows and choughs that wing the midway air + Show scarce so gross as beetles. Halfway down + Hangs one that gathers sampire- dreadful trade! + Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. + The fishermen that walk upon the beach + Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark, + Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy + Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge + That on th' unnumb'red idle pebble chafes + Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more, + Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight + Topple down headlong. + Glou. Set me where you stand. + Edg. Give me your hand. You are now within a foot + Of th' extreme verge. For all beneath the moon + Would I not leap upright. + Glou. Let go my hand. + Here, friend, is another purse; in it a jewel + Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies and gods + Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off; + Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. + Edg. Now fare ye well, good sir. + Glou. With all my heart. + Edg. [aside]. Why I do trifle thus with his despair + Is done to cure it. + Glou. O you mighty gods! He kneels. + This world I do renounce, and, in your sights, + Shake patiently my great affliction off. + If I could bear it longer and not fall + To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, + My snuff and loathed part of nature should + Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him! + Now, fellow, fare thee well. + He falls [forward and swoons]. + Edg. Gone, sir, farewell.- + And yet I know not how conceit may rob + The treasury of life when life itself + Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought, + By this had thought been past.- Alive or dead? + Ho you, sir! friend! Hear you, sir? Speak!- + Thus might he pass indeed. Yet he revives. + What are you, sir? + Glou. Away, and let me die. + Edg. Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, + So many fadom down precipitating, + Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg; but thou dost breathe; + Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound. + Ten masts at each make not the altitude + Which thou hast perpendicularly fell. + Thy life is a miracle. Speak yet again. + Glou. But have I fall'n, or no? + Edg. From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. + Look up a-height. The shrill-gorg'd lark so far + Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up. + Glou. Alack, I have no eyes! + Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit + To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort + When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage + And frustrate his proud will. + Edg. Give me your arm. + Up- so. How is't? Feel you your legs? You stand. + Glou. Too well, too well. + Edg. This is above all strangeness. + Upon the crown o' th' cliff what thing was that + Which parted from you? + Glou. A poor unfortunate beggar. + Edg. As I stood here below, methought his eyes + Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, + Horns whelk'd and wav'd like the enridged sea. + It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father, + Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours + Of men's impossibility, have preserv'd thee. + Glou. I do remember now. Henceforth I'll bear + Affliction till it do cry out itself + 'Enough, enough,' and die. That thing you speak of, + I took it for a man. Often 'twould say + 'The fiend, the fiend'- he led me to that place. + Edg. Bear free and patient thoughts. + + Enter Lear, mad, [fantastically dressed with weeds]. + + But who comes here? + The safer sense will ne'er accommodate + His master thus. + Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coming; + I am the King himself. + Edg. O thou side-piercing sight! + Lear. Nature 's above art in that respect. There's your press + money. That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper. Draw me + a clothier's yard. Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace; this piece + of toasted cheese will do't. There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it + on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well flown, bird! i' + th' clout, i' th' clout! Hewgh! Give the word. + Edg. Sweet marjoram. + Lear. Pass. + Glou. I know that voice. + Lear. Ha! Goneril with a white beard? They flatter'd me like a dog, + and told me I had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones + were there. To say 'ay' and 'no' to everything I said! 'Ay' and + 'no' too was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me + once, and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would + not peace at my bidding; there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em + out. Go to, they are not men o' their words! They told me I was + everything. 'Tis a lie- I am not ague-proof. + Glou. The trick of that voice I do well remember. + Is't not the King? + Lear. Ay, every inch a king! + When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. + I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause? + Adultery? + Thou shalt not die. Die for adultery? No. + The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly + Does lecher in my sight. + Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son + Was kinder to his father than my daughters + Got 'tween the lawful sheets. + To't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers. + Behold yond simp'ring dame, + Whose face between her forks presageth snow, + That minces virtue, and does shake the head + To hear of pleasure's name. + The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to't + With a more riotous appetite. + Down from the waist they are Centaurs, + Though women all above. + But to the girdle do the gods inherit, + Beneath is all the fiend's. + There's hell, there's darkness, there's the sulphurous pit; + burning, scalding, stench, consumption. Fie, fie, fie! pah, pah! + Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my + imagination. There's money for thee. + Glou. O, let me kiss that hand! + Lear. Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. + Glou. O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world + Shall so wear out to naught. Dost thou know me? + Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny at me? + No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not love. Read thou this + challenge; mark but the penning of it. + Glou. Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. + Edg. [aside] I would not take this from report. It is, + And my heart breaks at it. + Lear. Read. + Glou. What, with the case of eyes? + Lear. O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no + money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse + in a light. Yet you see how this world goes. + Glou. I see it feelingly. + Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how the world goes with no eyes. + Look with thine ears. See how yond justice rails upon yond + simple thief. Hark in thine ear. Change places and, handy-dandy, + which is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen a + farmer's dog bark at a beggar? + Glou. Ay, sir. + Lear. And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold + the great image of authority: a dog's obeyed in office. + Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! + Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back. + Thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind + For which thou whip'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. + Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; + Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, + And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks; + Arm it in rags, a pygmy's straw does pierce it. + None does offend, none- I say none! I'll able 'em. + Take that of me, my friend, who have the power + To seal th' accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes + And, like a scurvy politician, seem + To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now! + Pull off my boots. Harder, harder! So. + Edg. O, matter and impertinency mix'd! + Reason, in madness! + Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. + I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester. + Thou must be patient. We came crying hither; + Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air + We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee. Mark. + Glou. Alack, alack the day! + Lear. When we are born, we cry that we are come + To this great stage of fools. This' a good block. + It were a delicate stratagem to shoe + A troop of horse with felt. I'll put't in proof, + And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law, + Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! + + Enter a Gentleman [with Attendants]. + + Gent. O, here he is! Lay hand upon him.- Sir, + Your most dear daughter- + Lear. No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even + The natural fool of fortune. Use me well; + You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon; + I am cut to th' brains. + Gent. You shall have anything. + Lear. No seconds? All myself? + Why, this would make a man a man of salt, + To use his eyes for garden waterpots, + Ay, and laying autumn's dust. + Gent. Good sir- + Lear. I will die bravely, like a smug bridegroom. What! + I will be jovial. Come, come, I am a king; + My masters, know you that? + Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you. + Lear. Then there's life in't. Nay, an you get it, you shall get it + by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa! + Exit running. [Attendants follow.] + Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch, + Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter + Who redeems nature from the general curse + Which twain have brought her to. + Edg. Hail, gentle sir. + Gent. Sir, speed you. What's your will? + Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? + Gent. Most sure and vulgar. Every one hears that + Which can distinguish sound. + Edg. But, by your favour, + How near's the other army? + Gent. Near and on speedy foot. The main descry + Stands on the hourly thought. + Edg. I thank you sir. That's all. + Gent. Though that the Queen on special cause is here, + Her army is mov'd on. + Edg. I thank you, sir + Exit [Gentleman]. + Glou. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me; + Let not my worser spirit tempt me again + To die before you please! + Edg. Well pray you, father. + Glou. Now, good sir, what are you? + Edg. A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows, + Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, + Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand; + I'll lead you to some biding. + Glou. Hearty thanks. + The bounty and the benison of heaven + To boot, and boot! + + Enter [Oswald the] Steward. + + Osw. A proclaim'd prize! Most happy! + That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh + To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor, + Briefly thyself remember. The sword is out + That must destroy thee. + Glou. Now let thy friendly hand + Put strength enough to't. + [Edgar interposes.] + Osw. Wherefore, bold peasant, + Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence! + Lest that th' infection of his fortune take + Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. + Edg. Chill not let go, zir, without vurther 'cagion. + Osw. Let go, slave, or thou diest! + Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor voke pass. An chud + ha' bin zwagger'd out of my life, 'twould not ha' bin zo long as + 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th' old man. Keep out, + che vore ye, or Ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the + harder. Chill be plain with you. + Osw. Out, dunghill! + They fight. + Edg. Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come! No matter vor your foins. + [Oswald falls.] + Osw. Slave, thou hast slain me. Villain, take my purse. + If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body, + And give the letters which thou find'st about me + To Edmund Earl of Gloucester. Seek him out + Upon the British party. O, untimely death! Death! + He dies. + Edg. I know thee well. A serviceable villain, + As duteous to the vices of thy mistress + As badness would desire. + Glou. What, is he dead? + Edg. Sit you down, father; rest you. + Let's see his pockets; these letters that he speaks of + May be my friends. He's dead. I am only sorry + He had no other deathsman. Let us see. + Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not. + To know our enemies' minds, we'ld rip their hearts; + Their papers, is more lawful. Reads the letter. + + 'Let our reciprocal vows be rememb'red. You have many + opportunities to cut him off. If your will want not, time and + place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done, if he + return the conqueror. Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my + jail; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the + place for your labour. + 'Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant, + 'Goneril.' + + O indistinguish'd space of woman's will! + A plot upon her virtuous husband's life, + And the exchange my brother! Here in the sands + Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified + Of murtherous lechers; and in the mature time + With this ungracious paper strike the sight + Of the death-practis'd Duke, For him 'tis well + That of thy death and business I can tell. + Glou. The King is mad. How stiff is my vile sense, + That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling + Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract. + So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs, + And woes by wrong imaginations lose + The knowledge of themselves. + A drum afar off. + Edg. Give me your hand. + Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum. + Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene VII. +A tent in the French camp. + +Enter Cordelia, Kent, Doctor, and Gentleman. + + Cor. O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work + To match thy goodness? My life will be too short + And every measure fail me. + Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid. + All my reports go with the modest truth; + Nor more nor clipp'd, but so. + Cor. Be better suited. + These weeds are memories of those worser hours. + I prithee put them off. + Kent. Pardon, dear madam. + Yet to be known shortens my made intent. + My boon I make it that you know me not + Till time and I think meet. + Cor. Then be't so, my good lord. [To the Doctor] How, does the King? + Doct. Madam, sleeps still. + Cor. O you kind gods, + Cure this great breach in his abused nature! + Th' untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up + Of this child-changed father! + Doct. So please your Majesty + That we may wake the King? He hath slept long. + Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed + I' th' sway of your own will. Is he array'd? + + Enter Lear in a chair carried by Servants. + + Gent. Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep + We put fresh garments on him. + Doct. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him. + I doubt not of his temperance. + Cor. Very well. + Music. + Doct. Please you draw near. Louder the music there! + Cor. O my dear father, restoration hang + Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss + Repair those violent harms that my two sisters + Have in thy reverence made! + Kent. Kind and dear princess! + Cor. Had you not been their father, these white flakes + Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face + To be oppos'd against the warring winds? + To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder? + In the most terrible and nimble stroke + Of quick cross lightning? to watch- poor perdu!- + With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog, + Though he had bit me, should have stood that night + Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father, + To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn, + In short and musty straw? Alack, alack! + 'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once + Had not concluded all.- He wakes. Speak to him. + Doct. Madam, do you; 'tis fittest. + Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your Majesty? + Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o' th' grave. + Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound + Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears + Do scald like molten lead. + Cor. Sir, do you know me? + Lear. You are a spirit, I know. When did you die? + Cor. Still, still, far wide! + Doct. He's scarce awake. Let him alone awhile. + Lear. Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight, + I am mightily abus'd. I should e'en die with pity, + To see another thus. I know not what to say. + I will not swear these are my hands. Let's see. + I feel this pin prick. Would I were assur'd + Of my condition! + Cor. O, look upon me, sir, + And hold your hands in benediction o'er me. + No, sir, you must not kneel. + Lear. Pray, do not mock me. + I am a very foolish fond old man, + Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less; + And, to deal plainly, + I fear I am not in my perfect mind. + Methinks I should know you, and know this man; + Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant + What place this is; and all the skill I have + Remembers not these garments; nor I know not + Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; + For (as I am a man) I think this lady + To be my child Cordelia. + Cor. And so I am! I am! + Lear. Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray weep not. + If you have poison for me, I will drink it. + I know you do not love me; for your sisters + Have, as I do remember, done me wrong. + You have some cause, they have not. + Cor. No cause, no cause. + Lear. Am I in France? + Kent. In your own kingdom, sir. + Lear. Do not abuse me. + Doct. Be comforted, good madam. The great rage + You see is kill'd in him; and yet it is danger + To make him even o'er the time he has lost. + Desire him to go in. Trouble him no more + Till further settling. + Cor. Will't please your Highness walk? + Lear. You must bear with me. + Pray you now, forget and forgive. I am old and foolish. + Exeunt. Manent Kent and Gentleman. + Gent. Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain? + Kent. Most certain, sir. + Gent. Who is conductor of his people? + Kent. As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester. + Gent. They say Edgar, his banish'd son, is with the Earl of Kent + in Germany. + Kent. Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; the powers of + the kingdom approach apace. + Gent. The arbitrement is like to be bloody. + Fare you well, sir. [Exit.] + Kent. My point and period will be throughly wrought, + Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought. Exit. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. Scene I. +The British camp near Dover. + +Enter, with Drum and Colours, Edmund, Regan, Gentleman, and Soldiers. + + Edm. Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold, + Or whether since he is advis'd by aught + To change the course. He's full of alteration + And self-reproving. Bring his constant pleasure. + [Exit an Officer.] + Reg. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. + Edm. Tis to be doubted, madam. + Reg. Now, sweet lord, + You know the goodness I intend upon you. + Tell me- but truly- but then speak the truth- + Do you not love my sister? + Edm. In honour'd love. + Reg. But have you never found my brother's way + To the forfended place? + Edm. That thought abuses you. + Reg. I am doubtful that you have been conjunct + And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers. + Edm. No, by mine honour, madam. + Reg. I never shall endure her. Dear my lord, + Be not familiar with her. + Edm. Fear me not. + She and the Duke her husband! + + Enter, with Drum and Colours, Albany, Goneril, Soldiers. + + Gon. [aside] I had rather lose the battle than that sister + Should loosen him and me. + Alb. Our very loving sister, well bemet. + Sir, this I hear: the King is come to his daughter, + With others whom the rigour of our state + Forc'd to cry out. Where I could not be honest, + I never yet was valiant. For this business, + It toucheth us as France invades our land, + Not bolds the King, with others whom, I fear, + Most just and heavy causes make oppose. + Edm. Sir, you speak nobly. + Reg. Why is this reason'd? + Gon. Combine together 'gainst the enemy; + For these domestic and particular broils + Are not the question here. + Alb. Let's then determine + With th' ancient of war on our proceeding. + Edm. I shall attend you presently at your tent. + Reg. Sister, you'll go with us? + Gon. No. + Reg. 'Tis most convenient. Pray you go with us. + Gon. [aside] O, ho, I know the riddle.- I will go. + + [As they are going out,] enter Edgar [disguised]. + + Edg. If e'er your Grace had speech with man so poor, + Hear me one word. + Alb. I'll overtake you.- Speak. + Exeunt [all but Albany and Edgar]. + Edg. Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. + If you have victory, let the trumpet sound + For him that brought it. Wretched though I seem, + I can produce a champion that will prove + What is avouched there. If you miscarry, + Your business of the world hath so an end, + And machination ceases. Fortune love you! + Alb. Stay till I have read the letter. + Edg. I was forbid it. + When time shall serve, let but the herald cry, + And I'll appear again. + Alb. Why, fare thee well. I will o'erlook thy paper. + Exit [Edgar]. + + Enter Edmund. + + Edm. The enemy 's in view; draw up your powers. + Here is the guess of their true strength and forces + By diligent discovery; but your haste + Is now urg'd on you. + Alb. We will greet the time. Exit. + Edm. To both these sisters have I sworn my love; + Each jealous of the other, as the stung + Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take? + Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd, + If both remain alive. To take the widow + Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril; + And hardly shall I carry out my side, + Her husband being alive. Now then, we'll use + His countenance for the battle, which being done, + Let her who would be rid of him devise + His speedy taking off. As for the mercy + Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia- + The battle done, and they within our power, + Shall never see his pardon; for my state + Stands on me to defend, not to debate. Exit. + + + + +Scene II. +A field between the two camps. + +Alarum within. Enter, with Drum and Colours, the Powers of France +over the stage, Cordelia with her Father in her hand, and exeunt. + +Enter Edgar and Gloucester. + + Edg. Here, father, take the shadow of this tree + For your good host. Pray that the right may thrive. + If ever I return to you again, + I'll bring you comfort. + Glou. Grace go with you, sir! + Exit [Edgar]. + + Alarum and retreat within. Enter Edgar, + + Edg. Away, old man! give me thy hand! away! + King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en. + Give me thy hand! come on! + Glou. No further, sir. A man may rot even here. + Edg. What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure + Their going hence, even as their coming hither; + Ripeness is all. Come on. + Glou. And that's true too. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +The British camp, near Dover. + +Enter, in conquest, with Drum and Colours, Edmund; Lear and Cordelia +as prisoners; Soldiers, Captain. + + Edm. Some officers take them away. Good guard + Until their greater pleasures first be known + That are to censure them. + Cor. We are not the first + Who with best meaning have incurr'd the worst. + For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down; + Myself could else outfrown false Fortune's frown. + Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters? + Lear. No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison. + We two alone will sing like birds i' th' cage. + When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down + And ask of thee forgiveness. So we'll live, + And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh + At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues + Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too- + Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out- + And take upon 's the mystery of things, + As if we were God's spies; and we'll wear out, + In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones + That ebb and flow by th' moon. + Edm. Take them away. + Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, + The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? + He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven + And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes. + The goodyears shall devour 'em, flesh and fell, + Ere they shall make us weep! We'll see 'em starv'd first. + Come. Exeunt [Lear and Cordelia, guarded]. + Edm. Come hither, Captain; hark. + Take thou this note [gives a paper]. Go follow them to prison. + One step I have advanc'd thee. If thou dost + As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way + To noble fortunes. Know thou this, that men + Are as the time is. To be tender-minded + Does not become a sword. Thy great employment + Will not bear question. Either say thou'lt do't, + Or thrive by other means. + Capt. I'll do't, my lord. + Edm. About it! and write happy when th' hast done. + Mark- I say, instantly; and carry it so + As I have set it down. + Capt. I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats; + If it be man's work, I'll do't. Exit. + + Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Soldiers. + + Alb. Sir, you have show'd to-day your valiant strain, + And fortune led you well. You have the captives + Who were the opposites of this day's strife. + We do require them of you, so to use them + As we shall find their merits and our safety + May equally determine. + Edm. Sir, I thought it fit + To send the old and miserable King + To some retention and appointed guard; + Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, + To pluck the common bosom on his side + And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes + Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen, + My reason all the same; and they are ready + To-morrow, or at further space, t' appear + Where you shall hold your session. At this time + We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend; + And the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd + By those that feel their sharpness. + The question of Cordelia and her father + Requires a fitter place. + Alb. Sir, by your patience, + I hold you but a subject of this war, + Not as a brother. + Reg. That's as we list to grace him. + Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded + Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers, + Bore the commission of my place and person, + The which immediacy may well stand up + And call itself your brother. + Gon. Not so hot! + In his own grace he doth exalt himself + More than in your addition. + Reg. In my rights + By me invested, he compeers the best. + Gon. That were the most if he should husband you. + Reg. Jesters do oft prove prophets. + Gon. Holla, holla! + That eye that told you so look'd but asquint. + Reg. Lady, I am not well; else I should answer + From a full-flowing stomach. General, + Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; + Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine. + Witness the world that I create thee here + My lord and master. + Gon. Mean you to enjoy him? + Alb. The let-alone lies not in your good will. + Edm. Nor in thine, lord. + Alb. Half-blooded fellow, yes. + Reg. [to Edmund] Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine. + Alb. Stay yet; hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee + On capital treason; and, in thine attaint, + This gilded serpent [points to Goneril]. For your claim, fair + sister, + I bar it in the interest of my wife. + 'Tis she is subcontracted to this lord, + And I, her husband, contradict your banes. + If you will marry, make your loves to me; + My lady is bespoke. + Gon. An interlude! + Alb. Thou art arm'd, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound. + If none appear to prove upon thy person + Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, + There is my pledge [throws down a glove]! I'll prove it on thy + heart, + Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less + Than I have here proclaim'd thee. + Reg. Sick, O, sick! + Gon. [aside] If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine. + Edm. There's my exchange [throws down a glove]. What in the world + he is + That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. + Call by thy trumpet. He that dares approach, + On him, on you, who not? I will maintain + My truth and honour firmly. + Alb. A herald, ho! + Edm. A herald, ho, a herald! + Alb. Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, + All levied in my name, have in my name + Took their discharge. + Reg. My sickness grows upon me. + Alb. She is not well. Convey her to my tent. + [Exit Regan, led.] + + Enter a Herald. + + Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound, + And read out this. + Capt. Sound, trumpet! A trumpet sounds. + + Her. (reads) 'If any man of quality or degree within the lists of + the army will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, + that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound + of the trumpet. He is bold in his defence.' + + Edm. Sound! First trumpet. + Her. Again! Second trumpet. + Her. Again! Third trumpet. + Trumpet answers within. + + Enter Edgar, armed, at the third sound, a Trumpet before him. + + Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears + Upon this call o' th' trumpet. + Her. What are you? + Your name, your quality? and why you answer + This present summons? + Edg. Know my name is lost; + By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit. + Yet am I noble as the adversary + I come to cope. + Alb. Which is that adversary? + Edg. What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester? + Edm. Himself. What say'st thou to him? + Edg. Draw thy sword, + That, if my speech offend a noble heart, + Thy arm may do thee justice. Here is mine. + Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, + My oath, and my profession. I protest- + Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence, + Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, + Thy valour and thy heart- thou art a traitor; + False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father; + Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince; + And from th' extremest upward of thy head + To the descent and dust beneath thy foot, + A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou 'no,' + This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent + To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, + Thou liest. + Edm. In wisdom I should ask thy name; + But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, + And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes, + What safe and nicely I might well delay + By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn. + Back do I toss those treasons to thy head; + With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart; + Which- for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise- + This sword of mine shall give them instant way + Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak! + Alarums. Fight. [Edmund falls.] + Alb. Save him, save him! + Gon. This is mere practice, Gloucester. + By th' law of arms thou wast not bound to answer + An unknown opposite. Thou art not vanquish'd, + But cozen'd and beguil'd. + Alb. Shut your mouth, dame, + Or with this paper shall I stop it. [Shows her her letter to + Edmund.]- [To Edmund]. Hold, sir. + [To Goneril] Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil. + No tearing, lady! I perceive you know it. + Gon. Say if I do- the laws are mine, not thine. + Who can arraign me for't? + Alb. Most monstrous! + Know'st thou this paper? + Gon. Ask me not what I know. Exit. + Alb. Go after her. She's desperate; govern her. + [Exit an Officer.] + Edm. What, you have charg'd me with, that have I done, + And more, much more. The time will bring it out. + 'Tis past, and so am I.- But what art thou + That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble, + I do forgive thee. + Edg. Let's exchange charity. + I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; + If more, the more th' hast wrong'd me. + My name is Edgar and thy father's son. + The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + Make instruments to scourge us. + The dark and vicious place where thee he got + Cost him his eyes. + Edm. Th' hast spoken right; 'tis true. + The wheel is come full circle; I am here. + Alb. Methought thy very gait did prophesy + A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee. + Let sorrow split my heart if ever I + Did hate thee, or thy father! + Edg. Worthy prince, I know't. + Alb. Where have you hid yourself? + How have you known the miseries of your father? + Edg. By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale; + And when 'tis told, O that my heart would burst! + The bloody proclamation to escape + That follow'd me so near (O, our lives' sweetness! + That with the pain of death would hourly die + Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift + Into a madman's rags, t' assume a semblance + That very dogs disdain'd; and in this habit + Met I my father with his bleeding rings, + Their precious stones new lost; became his guide, + Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair; + Never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him + Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd, + Not sure, though hoping of this good success, + I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last + Told him my pilgrimage. But his flaw'd heart + (Alack, too weak the conflict to support!) + 'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, + Burst smilingly. + Edm. This speech of yours hath mov'd me, + And shall perchance do good; but speak you on; + You look as you had something more to say. + Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in; + For I am almost ready to dissolve, + Hearing of this. + Edg. This would have seem'd a period + To such as love not sorrow; but another, + To amplify too much, would make much more, + And top extremity. + Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man, + Who, having seen me in my worst estate, + Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding + Who 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms + He fastened on my neck, and bellowed out + As he'd burst heaven; threw him on my father; + Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him + That ever ear receiv'd; which in recounting + His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life + Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded, + And there I left him tranc'd. + Alb. But who was this? + Edg. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise + Followed his enemy king and did him service + Improper for a slave. + + Enter a Gentleman with a bloody knife. + + Gent. Help, help! O, help! + Edg. What kind of help? + Alb. Speak, man. + Edg. What means that bloody knife? + Gent. 'Tis hot, it smokes. + It came even from the heart of- O! she's dead! + Alb. Who dead? Speak, man. + Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady! and her sister + By her is poisoned; she hath confess'd it. + Edm. I was contracted to them both. All three + Now marry in an instant. + + Enter Kent. + + Edg. Here comes Kent. + Alb. Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead. + [Exit Gentleman.] + This judgement of the heavens, that makes us tremble + Touches us not with pity. O, is this he? + The time will not allow the compliment + That very manners urges. + Kent. I am come + To bid my king and master aye good night. + Is he not here? + Alb. Great thing of us forgot! + Speak, Edmund, where's the King? and where's Cordelia? + The bodies of Goneril and Regan are brought in. + Seest thou this object, Kent? + Kent. Alack, why thus? + Edm. Yet Edmund was belov'd. + The one the other poisoned for my sake, + And after slew herself. + Alb. Even so. Cover their faces. + Edm. I pant for life. Some good I mean to do, + Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send + (Be brief in't) to the castle; for my writ + Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia. + Nay, send in time. + Alb. Run, run, O, run! + Edg. To who, my lord? Who has the office? Send + Thy token of reprieve. + Edm. Well thought on. Take my sword; + Give it the Captain. + Alb. Haste thee for thy life. [Exit Edgar.] + Edm. He hath commission from thy wife and me + To hang Cordelia in the prison and + To lay the blame upon her own despair + That she fordid herself. + Alb. The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile. + [Edmund is borne off.] + + Enter Lear, with Cordelia [dead] in his arms, [Edgar, Captain, + and others following]. + + Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stone. + Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so + That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever! + I know when one is dead, and when one lives. + She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking glass. + If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, + Why, then she lives. + Kent. Is this the promis'd end? + Edg. Or image of that horror? + Alb. Fall and cease! + Lear. This feather stirs; she lives! If it be so, + It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows + That ever I have felt. + Kent. O my good master! + Lear. Prithee away! + Edg. 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. + Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! + I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for ever! + Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha! + What is't thou say'st, Her voice was ever soft, + Gentle, and low- an excellent thing in woman. + I kill'd the slave that was a-hanging thee. + Capt. 'Tis true, my lords, he did. + Lear. Did I not, fellow? + I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion + I would have made them skip. I am old now, + And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you? + Mine eyes are not o' th' best. I'll tell you straight. + Kent. If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated, + One of them we behold. + Lear. This' a dull sight. Are you not Kent? + Kent. The same- + Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius? + Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that. + He'll strike, and quickly too. He's dead and rotten. + Kent. No, my good lord; I am the very man- + Lear. I'll see that straight. + Kent. That from your first of difference and decay + Have followed your sad steps. + Lear. You're welcome hither. + Kent. Nor no man else! All's cheerless, dark, and deadly. + Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves, + And desperately are dead. + Lear. Ay, so I think. + Alb. He knows not what he says; and vain is it + That we present us to him. + Edg. Very bootless. + + Enter a Captain. + + Capt. Edmund is dead, my lord. + Alb. That's but a trifle here. + You lords and noble friends, know our intent. + What comfort to this great decay may come + Shall be applied. For us, we will resign, + During the life of this old Majesty, + To him our absolute power; [to Edgar and Kent] you to your + rights; + With boot, and Such addition as your honours + Have more than merited.- All friends shall taste + The wages of their virtue, and all foes + The cup of their deservings.- O, see, see! + Lear. And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life! + Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, + And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, + Never, never, never, never, never! + Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir. + Do you see this? Look on her! look! her lips! + Look there, look there! He dies. + Edg. He faints! My lord, my lord! + Kent. Break, heart; I prithee break! + Edg. Look up, my lord. + Kent. Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He hates him + That would upon the rack of this tough world + Stretch him out longer. + Edg. He is gone indeed. + Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long. + He but usurp'd his life. + Alb. Bear them from hence. Our present business + Is general woe. [To Kent and Edgar] Friends of my soul, you + twain + Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain. + Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go. + My master calls me; I must not say no. + Alb. The weight of this sad time we must obey, + Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. + The oldest have borne most; we that are young + Shall never see so much, nor live so long. + Exeunt with a dead march. + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + + +1595 + +LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae. + + FERDINAND, King of Navarre + BEROWNE, lord attending on the King + LONGAVILLE, " " " " " + DUMAIN, " " " " " + BOYET, lord attending on the Princess of France + MARCADE, " " " " " " " + DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, fantastical Spaniard + SIR NATHANIEL, a curate + HOLOFERNES, a schoolmaster + DULL, a constable + COSTARD, a clown + MOTH, page to Armado + A FORESTER + + THE PRINCESS OF FRANCE + ROSALINE, lady attending on the Princess + MARIA, " " " " " + KATHARINE, lady attending on the Princess + JAQUENETTA, a country wench + + Lords, Attendants, etc. + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +Navarre + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Navarre. The King's park + +Enter the King, BEROWNE, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN + + KING. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, + Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs, + And then grace us in the disgrace of death; + When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, + Th' endeavour of this present breath may buy + That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge, + And make us heirs of all eternity. + Therefore, brave conquerors- for so you are + That war against your own affections + And the huge army of the world's desires- + Our late edict shall strongly stand in force: + Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; + Our court shall be a little Academe, + Still and contemplative in living art. + You three, Berowne, Dumain, and Longaville, + Have sworn for three years' term to live with me + My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes + That are recorded in this schedule here. + Your oaths are pass'd; and now subscribe your names, + That his own hand may strike his honour down + That violates the smallest branch herein. + If you are arm'd to do as sworn to do, + Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too. + LONGAVILLE. I am resolv'd; 'tis but a three years' fast. + The mind shall banquet, though the body pine. + Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits + Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits. + DUMAIN. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified. + The grosser manner of these world's delights + He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves; + To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die, + With all these living in philosophy. + BEROWNE. I can but say their protestation over; + So much, dear liege, I have already sworn, + That is, to live and study here three years. + But there are other strict observances, + As: not to see a woman in that term, + Which I hope well is not enrolled there; + And one day in a week to touch no food, + And but one meal on every day beside, + The which I hope is not enrolled there; + And then to sleep but three hours in the night + And not be seen to wink of all the day- + When I was wont to think no harm all night, + And make a dark night too of half the day- + Which I hope well is not enrolled there. + O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep, + Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep! + KING. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these. + BEROWNE. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please: + I only swore to study with your Grace, + And stay here in your court for three years' space. + LONGAVILLE. You swore to that, Berowne, and to the rest. + BEROWNE. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest. + What is the end of study, let me know. + KING. Why, that to know which else we should not know. + BEROWNE. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense? + KING. Ay, that is study's god-like recompense. + BEROWNE. Come on, then; I will swear to study so, + To know the thing I am forbid to know, + As thus: to study where I well may dine, + When I to feast expressly am forbid; + Or study where to meet some mistress fine, + When mistresses from common sense are hid; + Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath, + Study to break it, and not break my troth. + If study's gain be thus, and this be so, + Study knows that which yet it doth not know. + Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no. + KING. These be the stops that hinder study quite, + And train our intellects to vain delight. + BEROWNE. Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain + Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain, + As painfully to pore upon a book + To seek the light of truth; while truth the while + Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look. + Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile; + So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, + Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. + Study me how to please the eye indeed, + By fixing it upon a fairer eye; + Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed, + And give him light that it was blinded by. + Study is like the heaven's glorious sun, + That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks; + Small have continual plodders ever won, + Save base authority from others' books. + These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights + That give a name to every fixed star + Have no more profit of their shining nights + Than those that walk and wot not what they are. + Too much to know is to know nought but fame; + And every godfather can give a name. + KING. How well he's read, to reason against reading! + DUMAIN. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding! + LONGAVILLE. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding. + BEROWNE. The spring is near, when green geese are a-breeding. + DUMAIN. How follows that? + BEROWNE. Fit in his place and time. + DUMAIN. In reason nothing. + BEROWNE. Something then in rhyme. + LONGAVILLE. Berowne is like an envious sneaping frost + That bites the first-born infants of the spring. + BEROWNE. Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast + Before the birds have any cause to sing? + Why should I joy in any abortive birth? + At Christmas I no more desire a rose + Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows; + But like of each thing that in season grows; + So you, to study now it is too late, + Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate. + KING. Well, sit out; go home, Berowne; adieu. + BEROWNE. No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you; + And though I have for barbarism spoke more + Than for that angel knowledge you can say, + Yet confident I'll keep what I have swore, + And bide the penance of each three years' day. + Give me the paper; let me read the same; + And to the strictest decrees I'll write my name. + KING. How well this yielding rescues thee from shame! + BEROWNE. [Reads] 'Item. That no woman shall come within a mile of + my court'- Hath this been proclaimed? + LONGAVILLE. Four days ago. + BEROWNE. Let's see the penalty. [Reads] '-on pain of losing her + tongue.' Who devis'd this penalty? + LONGAVILLE. Marry, that did I. + BEROWNE. Sweet lord, and why? + LONGAVILLE. To fright them hence with that dread penalty. + BEROWNE. A dangerous law against gentility. + [Reads] 'Item. If any man be seen to talk with a woman within + the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the + rest of the court can possibly devise.' + This article, my liege, yourself must break; + For well you know here comes in embassy + The French king's daughter, with yourself to speak- + A mild of grace and complete majesty- + About surrender up of Aquitaine + To her decrepit, sick, and bedrid father; + Therefore this article is made in vain, + Or vainly comes th' admired princess hither. + KING. What say you, lords? Why, this was quite forgot. + BEROWNE. So study evermore is over-shot. + While it doth study to have what it would, + It doth forget to do the thing it should; + And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, + 'Tis won as towns with fire- so won, so lost. + KING. We must of force dispense with this decree; + She must lie here on mere necessity. + BEROWNE. Necessity will make us all forsworn + Three thousand times within this three years' space; + For every man with his affects is born, + Not by might mast'red, but by special grace. + If I break faith, this word shall speak for me: + I am forsworn on mere necessity. + So to the laws at large I write my name; [Subscribes] + And he that breaks them in the least degree + Stands in attainder of eternal shame. + Suggestions are to other as to me; + But I believe, although I seem so loath, + I am the last that will last keep his oath. + But is there no quick recreation granted? + KING. Ay, that there is. Our court, you know, is haunted + With a refined traveller of Spain, + A man in all the world's new fashion planted, + That hath a mint of phrases in his brain; + One who the music of his own vain tongue + Doth ravish like enchanting harmony; + A man of complements, whom right and wrong + Have chose as umpire of their mutiny. + This child of fancy, that Armado hight, + For interim to our studies shall relate, + In high-born words, the worth of many a knight + From tawny Spain lost in the world's debate. + How you delight, my lords, I know not, I; + But I protest I love to hear him lie, + And I will use him for my minstrelsy. + BEROWNE. Armado is a most illustrious wight, + A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight. + LONGAVILLE. Costard the swain and he shall be our sport; + And so to study three years is but short. + + Enter DULL, a constable, with a letter, and COSTARD + + DULL. Which is the Duke's own person? + BEROWNE. This, fellow. What wouldst? + DULL. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his Grace's + farborough; but I would see his own person in flesh and blood. + BEROWNE. This is he. + DULL. Signior Arme- Arme- commends you. There's villainy abroad; + this letter will tell you more. + COSTARD. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me. + KING. A letter from the magnificent Armado. + BEROWNE. How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words. + LONGAVILLE. A high hope for a low heaven. God grant us patience! + BEROWNE. To hear, or forbear hearing? + LONGAVILLE. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately; or, to + forbear both. + BEROWNE. Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to climb + in the merriness. + COSTARD. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. + The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner. + BEROWNE. In what manner? + COSTARD. In manner and form following, sir; all those three: I was + seen with her in the manor-house, sitting with her upon the form, + and taken following her into the park; which, put together, is in + manner and form following. Now, sir, for the manner- it is the + manner of a man to speak to a woman. For the form- in some form. + BEROWNE. For the following, sir? + COSTARD. As it shall follow in my correction; and God defend the + right! + KING. Will you hear this letter with attention? + BEROWNE. As we would hear an oracle. + COSTARD. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh. + KING. [Reads] 'Great deputy, the welkin's vicegerent and sole + dominator of Navarre, my soul's earth's god and body's fost'ring + patron'- + COSTARD. Not a word of Costard yet. + KING. [Reads] 'So it is'- + COSTARD. It may be so; but if he say it is so, he is, in telling + true, but so. + KING. Peace! + COSTARD. Be to me, and every man that dares not fight! + KING. No words! + COSTARD. Of other men's secrets, I beseech you. + KING. [Reads] 'So it is, besieged with sable-coloured melancholy, I + did commend the black oppressing humour to the most wholesome + physic of thy health-giving air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook + myself to walk. The time When? About the sixth hour; when beasts + most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment + which is called supper. So much for the time When. Now for the + ground Which? which, I mean, I upon; it is ycleped thy park. Then + for the place Where? where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene + and most prepost'rous event that draweth from my snow-white pen + the ebon-coloured ink which here thou viewest, beholdest, + surveyest, or seest. But to the place Where? It standeth + north-north-east and by east from the west corner of thy + curious-knotted garden. There did I see that low-spirited swain, + that base minnow of thy mirth,' + COSTARD. Me? + KING. 'that unlettered small-knowing soul,' + COSTARD. Me? + KING. 'that shallow vassal,' + COSTARD. Still me? + KING. 'which, as I remember, hight Costard,' + COSTARD. O, me! + KING. 'sorted and consorted, contrary to thy established proclaimed + edict and continent canon; which, with, O, with- but with this I + passion to say wherewith-' + COSTARD. With a wench. + King. 'with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy + more sweet understanding, a woman. Him I, as my ever-esteemed + duty pricks me on, have sent to thee, to receive the meed of + punishment, by thy sweet Grace's officer, Antony Dull, a man of + good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation.' + DULL. Me, an't shall please you; I am Antony Dull. + KING. 'For Jaquenetta- so is the weaker vessel called, which I + apprehended with the aforesaid swain- I keep her as a vessel of + thy law's fury; and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, + bring her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted and + heart-burning heat of duty, + DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.' + + BEROWNE. This is not so well as I look'd for, but the best that + ever I heard. + KING. Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say you to + this? + COSTARD. Sir, I confess the wench. + KING. Did you hear the proclamation? + COSTARD. I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the + marking of it. + KING. It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment to be taken with a + wench. + COSTARD. I was taken with none, sir; I was taken with a damsel. + KING. Well, it was proclaimed damsel. + COSTARD. This was no damsel neither, sir; she was a virgin. + KING. It is so varied too, for it was proclaimed virgin. + COSTARD. If it were, I deny her virginity; I was taken with a maid. + KING. This 'maid' not serve your turn, sir. + COSTARD. This maid will serve my turn, sir. + KING. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall fast a week + with bran and water. + COSTARD. I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge. + KING. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. + My Lord Berowne, see him delivered o'er; + And go we, lords, to put in practice that + Which each to other hath so strongly sworn. + Exeunt KING, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN + BEROWNE. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat + These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. + Sirrah, come on. + COSTARD. I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is I was taken + with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and therefore + welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day smile + again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +The park + +Enter ARMADO and MOTH, his page + + ARMADO. Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows + melancholy? + MOTH. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad. + ARMADO. Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp. + MOTH. No, no; O Lord, sir, no! + ARMADO. How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender + juvenal? + MOTH. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough signior. + ARMADO. Why tough signior? Why tough signior? + MOTH. Why tender juvenal? Why tender juvenal? + ARMADO. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton + appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender. + MOTH. And I, tough signior, as an appertinent title to your old + time, which we may name tough. + ARMADO. Pretty and apt. + MOTH. How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying apt? or I apt, and + my saying pretty? + ARMADO. Thou pretty, because little. + MOTH. Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt? + ARMADO. And therefore apt, because quick. + MOTH. Speak you this in my praise, master? + ARMADO. In thy condign praise. + MOTH. I will praise an eel with the same praise. + ARMADO. that an eel is ingenious? + MOTH. That an eel is quick. + ARMADO. I do say thou art quick in answers; thou heat'st my blood. + MOTH. I am answer'd, sir. + ARMADO. I love not to be cross'd. + MOTH. [Aside] He speaks the mere contrary: crosses love not him. + ARMADO. I have promised to study three years with the Duke. + MOTH. You may do it in an hour, sir. + ARMADO. Impossible. + MOTH. How many is one thrice told? + ARMADO. I am ill at reck'ning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster. + MOTH. You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir. + ARMADO. I confess both; they are both the varnish of a complete + man. + MOTH. Then I am sure you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace + amounts to. + ARMADO. It doth amount to one more than two. + MOTH. Which the base vulgar do call three. + ARMADO. True. + MOTH. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here is three + studied ere ye'll thrice wink; and how easy it is to put 'years' + to the word 'three,' and study three years in two words, the + dancing horse will tell you. + ARMADO. A most fine figure! + MOTH. [Aside] To prove you a cipher. + ARMADO. I will hereupon confess I am in love. And as it is base for + a soldier to love, so am I in love with a base wench. If drawing + my sword against the humour of affection would deliver me from + the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and + ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devis'd curtsy. I + think scorn to sigh; methinks I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort + me, boy; what great men have been in love? + MOTH. Hercules, master. + ARMADO. Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more; + and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage. + MOTH. Samson, master; he was a man of good carriage, great + carriage, for he carried the town gates on his back like a + porter; and he was in love. + ARMADO. O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do excel thee + in my rapier as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in + love too. Who was Samson's love, my dear Moth? + MOTH. A woman, master. + ARMADO. Of what complexion? + MOTH. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the + four. + ARMADO. Tell me precisely of what complexion. + MOTH. Of the sea-water green, sir. + ARMADO. Is that one of the four complexions? + MOTH. As I have read, sir; and the best of them too. + ARMADO. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love + of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason for it. He + surely affected her for her wit. + MOTH. It was so, sir; for she had a green wit. + ARMADO. My love is most immaculate white and red. + MOTH. Most maculate thoughts, master, are mask'd under such + colours. + ARMADO. Define, define, well-educated infant. + MOTH. My father's wit my mother's tongue assist me! + ARMADO. Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty, and pathetical! + MOTH. If she be made of white and red, + Her faults will ne'er be known; + For blushing cheeks by faults are bred, + And fears by pale white shown. + Then if she fear, or be to blame, + By this you shall not know; + For still her cheeks possess the same + Which native she doth owe. + A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and red. + ARMADO. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar? + MOTH. The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages + since; but I think now 'tis not to be found; or if it were, it + would neither serve for the writing nor the tune. + ARMADO. I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may + example my digression by some mighty precedent. Boy, I do love + that country girl that I took in the park with the rational hind + Costard; she deserves well. + MOTH. [Aside] To be whipt; and yet a better love than my master. + ARMADO. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love. + MOTH. And that's great marvel, loving a light wench. + ARMADO. I say, sing. + MOTH. Forbear till this company be past. + + Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQUENETTA + + DULL. Sir, the Duke's pleasure is that you keep Costard safe; and + you must suffer him to take no delight nor no penance; but 'a + must fast three days a week. For this damsel, I must keep her at + the park; she is allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well. + ARMADO. I do betray myself with blushing. Maid! + JAQUENETTA. Man! + ARMADO. I will visit thee at the lodge. + JAQUENETTA. That's hereby. + ARMADO. I know where it is situate. + JAQUENETTA. Lord, how wise you are! + ARMADO. I will tell thee wonders. + JAQUENETTA. With that face? + ARMADO. I love thee. + JAQUENETTA. So I heard you say. + ARMADO. And so, farewell. + JAQUENETTA. Fair weather after you! + DULL. Come, Jaquenetta, away. Exit with JAQUENETTA + ARMADO. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be + pardoned. + COSTARD. Well, sir, I hope when I do it I shall do it on a full + stomach. + ARMADO. Thou shalt be heavily punished. + COSTARD. I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they are but + lightly rewarded. + ARMADO. Take away this villain; shut him up. + MOTH. Come, you transgressing slave, away. + COSTARD. Let me not be pent up, sir; I will fast, being loose. + MOTH. No, sir; that were fast, and loose. Thou shalt to prison. + COSTARD. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I + have seen, some shall see. + MOTH. What shall some see? + COSTARD. Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what they look upon. It is + not for prisoners to be too silent in their words, and therefore + I will say nothing. I thank God I have as little patience as + another man, and therefore I can be quiet. + Exeunt MOTH and COSTARD + ARMADO. I do affect the very ground, which is base, where her shoe, + which is baser, guided by her foot, which is basest, doth tread. + I shall be forsworn- which is a great argument of falsehood- if I + love. And how can that be true love which is falsely attempted? + Love is a familiar; Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but + Love. Yet was Samson so tempted, and he had an excellent + strength; yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. + Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club, and therefore + too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier. The first and second cause + will not serve my turn; the passado he respects not, the duello + he regards not; his disgrace is to be called boy, but his glory + is to subdue men. Adieu, valour; rust, rapier; be still, drum; + for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me, some + extemporal god of rhyme, for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. + Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio. + Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE II. +The park + +Enter the PRINCESS OF FRANCE, with three attending ladies, +ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, BOYET, and two other LORDS + + BOYET. Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits. + Consider who the King your father sends, + To whom he sends, and what's his embassy: + Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem, + To parley with the sole inheritor + Of all perfections that a man may owe, + Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight + Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen. + Be now as prodigal of all dear grace + As Nature was in making graces dear, + When she did starve the general world beside + And prodigally gave them all to you. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, + Needs not the painted flourish of your praise. + Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, + Not utt'red by base sale of chapmen's tongues; + I am less proud to hear you tell my worth + Than you much willing to be counted wise + In spending your wit in the praise of mine. + But now to task the tasker: good Boyet, + You are not ignorant all-telling fame + Doth noise abroad Navarre hath made a vow, + Till painful study shall outwear three years, + No woman may approach his silent court. + Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course, + Before we enter his forbidden gates, + To know his pleasure; and in that behalf, + Bold of your worthiness, we single you + As our best-moving fair solicitor. + Tell him the daughter of the King of France, + On serious business, craving quick dispatch, + Importunes personal conference with his Grace. + Haste, signify so much; while we attend, + Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will. + BOYET. Proud of employment, willingly I go. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. + Exit BOYET + Who are the votaries, my loving lords, + That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? + FIRST LORD. Lord Longaville is one. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Know you the man? + MARIA. I know him, madam; at a marriage feast, + Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir + Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized + In Normandy, saw I this Longaville. + A man of sovereign parts, peerless esteem'd, + Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms; + Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. + The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, + If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil, + Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will, + Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills + It should none spare that come within his power. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so? + MARIA. They say so most that most his humours know. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow. + Who are the rest? + KATHARINE. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth, + Of all that virtue love for virtue loved; + Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill, + For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, + And shape to win grace though he had no wit. + I saw him at the Duke Alencon's once; + And much too little of that good I saw + Is my report to his great worthiness. + ROSALINE. Another of these students at that time + Was there with him, if I have heard a truth. + Berowne they call him; but a merrier man, + Within the limit of becoming mirth, + I never spent an hour's talk withal. + His eye begets occasion for his wit, + For every object that the one doth catch + The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, + Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, + Delivers in such apt and gracious words + That aged ears play truant at his tales, + And younger hearings are quite ravished; + So sweet and voluble is his discourse. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. God bless my ladies! Are they all in love, + That every one her own hath garnished + With such bedecking ornaments of praise? + FIRST LORD. Here comes Boyet. + + Re-enter BOYET + + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Now, what admittance, lord? + BOYET. Navarre had notice of your fair approach, + And he and his competitors in oath + Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady, + Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt: + He rather means to lodge you in the field, + Like one that comes here to besiege his court, + Than seek a dispensation for his oath, + To let you enter his unpeopled house. + [The LADIES-IN-WAITING mask] + + Enter KING, LONGAVILLE, DUMAIN, BEROWNE, + and ATTENDANTS + + Here comes Navarre. + KING. Fair Princess, welcome to the court of Navarre. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. 'Fair' I give you back again; and 'welcome' I + have not yet. The roof of this court is too high to be yours, and + welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine. + KING. You shall be welcome, madam, to my court. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. I will be welcome then; conduct me thither. + KING. Hear me, dear lady: I have sworn an oath- + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Our Lady help my lord! He'll be forsworn. + KING. Not for the world, fair madam, by my will. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing + else. + KING. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise, + Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance. + I hear your Grace hath sworn out house-keeping. + 'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord, + And sin to break it. + But pardon me, I am too sudden bold; + To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. + Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming, + And suddenly resolve me in my suit. [Giving a paper] + KING. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. YOU Will the sooner that I were away, + For you'll prove perjur'd if you make me stay. + BEROWNE. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? + KATHARINE. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? + BEROWNE. I know you did. + KATHARINE. How needless was it then to ask the question! + BEROWNE. You must not be so quick. + KATHARINE. 'Tis long of you, that spur me with such questions. + BEROWNE. Your wit 's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire. + KATHARINE. Not till it leave the rider in the mire. + BEROWNE. What time o' day? + KATHARINE. The hour that fools should ask. + BEROWNE. Now fair befall your mask! + KATHARINE. Fair fall the face it covers! + BEROWNE. And send you many lovers! + KATHARINE. Amen, so you be none. + BEROWNE. Nay, then will I be gone. + KING. Madam, your father here doth intimate + The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; + Being but the one half of an entire sum + Disbursed by my father in his wars. + But say that he or we, as neither have, + Receiv'd that sum, yet there remains unpaid + A hundred thousand more, in surety of the which, + One part of Aquitaine is bound to us, + Although not valued to the money's worth. + If then the King your father will restore + But that one half which is unsatisfied, + We will give up our right in Aquitaine, + And hold fair friendship with his Majesty. + But that, it seems, he little purposeth, + For here he doth demand to have repaid + A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, + On payment of a hundred thousand crowns, + To have his title live in Aquitaine; + Which we much rather had depart withal, + And have the money by our father lent, + Than Aquitaine so gelded as it is. + Dear Princess, were not his requests so far + From reason's yielding, your fair self should make + A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast, + And go well satisfied to France again. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. You do the King my father too much wrong, + And wrong the reputation of your name, + In so unseeming to confess receipt + Of that which hath so faithfully been paid. + KING. I do protest I never heard of it; + And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back + Or yield up Aquitaine. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. We arrest your word. + Boyet, you can produce acquittances + For such a sum from special officers + Of Charles his father. + KING. Satisfy me so. + BOYET. So please your Grace, the packet is not come, + Where that and other specialties are bound; + To-morrow you shall have a sight of them. + KING. It shall suffice me; at which interview + All liberal reason I will yield unto. + Meantime receive such welcome at my hand + As honour, without breach of honour, may + Make tender of to thy true worthiness. + You may not come, fair Princess, within my gates; + But here without you shall be so receiv'd + As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart, + Though so denied fair harbour in my house. + Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell. + To-morrow shall we visit you again. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Sweet health and fair desires consort your + Grace! + KING. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place. + Exit with attendants + BEROWNE. Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart. + ROSALINE. Pray you, do my commendations; + I would be glad to see it. + BEROWNE. I would you heard it groan. + ROSALINE. Is the fool sick? + BEROWNE. Sick at the heart. + ROSALINE. Alack, let it blood. + BEROWNE. Would that do it good? + ROSALINE. My physic says 'ay.' + BEROWNE. Will YOU prick't with your eye? + ROSALINE. No point, with my knife. + BEROWNE. Now, God save thy life! + ROSALINE. And yours from long living! + BEROWNE. I cannot stay thanksgiving. [Retiring] + DUMAIN. Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that same? + BOYET. The heir of Alencon, Katharine her name. + DUMAIN. A gallant lady! Monsieur, fare you well. Exit + LONGAVILLE. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white? + BOYET. A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light. + LONGAVILLE. Perchance light in the light. I desire her name. + BOYET. She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame. + LONGAVILLE. Pray you, sir, whose daughter? + BOYET. Her mother's, I have heard. + LONGAVILLE. God's blessing on your beard! + BOYET. Good sir, be not offended; + She is an heir of Falconbridge. + LONGAVILLE. Nay, my choler is ended. + She is a most sweet lady. + BOYET. Not unlike, sir; that may be. Exit LONGAVILLE + BEROWNE. What's her name in the cap? + BOYET. Rosaline, by good hap. + BEROWNE. Is she wedded or no? + BOYET. To her will, sir, or so. + BEROWNE. You are welcome, sir; adieu! + BOYET. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you. + Exit BEROWNE. LADIES Unmask + MARIA. That last is Berowne, the merry mad-cap lord; + Not a word with him but a jest. + BOYET. And every jest but a word. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. It was well done of you to take him at his + word. + BOYET. I was as willing to grapple as he was to board. + KATHARINE. Two hot sheeps, marry! + BOYET. And wherefore not ships? + No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. + KATHARINE. You sheep and I pasture- shall that finish the jest? + BOYET. So you grant pasture for me. [Offering to kiss her] + KATHARINE. Not so, gentle beast; + My lips are no common, though several they be. + BOYET. Belonging to whom? + KATHARINE. To my fortunes and me. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, + agree; + This civil war of wits were much better used + On Navarre and his book-men, for here 'tis abused. + BOYET. If my observation, which very seldom lies, + By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes, + Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. With what? + BOYET. With that which we lovers entitle 'affected.' + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Your reason? + BOYET. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire + To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire. + His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed, + Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed; + His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, + Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; + All senses to that sense did make their repair, + To feel only looking on fairest of fair. + Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye, + As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy; + Who, tend'ring their own worth from where they were glass'd, + Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd. + His face's own margent did quote such amazes + That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes. + I'll give you Aquitaine and all that is his, + An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Come, to our pavilion. Boyet is dispos'd. + BOYET. But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclos'd; + I only have made a mouth of his eye, + By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. + MARIA. Thou art an old love-monger, and speakest skilfully. + KATHARINE. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him. + ROSALINE. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but + grim. + BOYET. Do you hear, my mad wenches? + MARIA. No. + BOYET. What, then; do you see? + MARIA. Ay, our way to be gone. + BOYET. You are too hard for me. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +The park + +Enter ARMADO and MOTH + + ARMADO. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing. + [MOTH sings Concolinel] + ARMADO. Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years, take this key, give + enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither; I must + employ him in a letter to my love. + MOTH. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl? + ARMADO. How meanest thou? Brawling in French? + MOTH. No, my complete master; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's + end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your + eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the + throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love, sometime + through the nose, as if you snuff'd up love by smelling love, + with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of your eyes, with + your arms cross'd on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbit on a + spit, or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old + painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away. + These are complements, these are humours; these betray nice + wenches, that would be betrayed without these; and make them men + of note- do you note me?- that most are affected to these. + ARMADO. How hast thou purchased this experience? + MOTH. By my penny of observation. + ARMADO. But O- but O- + MOTH. The hobby-horse is forgot. + ARMADO. Call'st thou my love 'hobby-horse'? + MOTH. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love + perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love? + ARMADO. Almost I had. + MOTH. Negligent student! learn her by heart. + ARMADO. By heart and in heart, boy. + MOTH. And out of heart, master; all those three I will prove. + ARMADO. What wilt thou prove? + MOTH. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon the + instant. By heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by + her; in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with + her; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you + cannot enjoy her. + ARMADO. I am all these three. + MOTH. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all. + ARMADO. Fetch hither the swain; he must carry me a letter. + MOTH. A message well sympathiz'd- a horse to be ambassador for an + ass. + ARMADO. Ha, ha, what sayest thou? + MOTH. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is + very slow-gaited. But I go. + ARMADO. The way is but short; away. + MOTH. As swift as lead, sir. + ARMADO. The meaning, pretty ingenious? + Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? + MOTH. Minime, honest master; or rather, master, no. + ARMADO. I say lead is slow. + MOTH. You are too swift, sir, to say so: + Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun? + ARMADO. Sweet smoke of rhetoric! + He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he; + I shoot thee at the swain. + MOTH. Thump, then, and I flee. Exit + ARMADO. A most acute juvenal; volable and free of grace! + By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face; + Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. + My herald is return'd. + + Re-enter MOTH with COSTARD + + MOTH. A wonder, master! here's a costard broken in a shin. + ARMADO. Some enigma, some riddle; come, thy l'envoy; begin. + COSTARD. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the mail, sir. + O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain; no l'envoy, no l'envoy; no + salve, sir, but a plantain! + ARMADO. By virtue thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my + spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous + smiling. O, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take + salve for l'envoy, and the word 'l'envoy' for a salve? + MOTH. Do the wise think them other? Is not l'envoy a salve? + ARMADO. No, page; it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain + Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. + I will example it: + The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, + Were still at odds, being but three. + There's the moral. Now the l'envoy. + MOTH. I will add the l'envoy. Say the moral again. + ARMADO. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, + Were still at odds, being but three. + MOTH. Until the goose came out of door, + And stay'd the odds by adding four. + Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l'envoy. + The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, + Were still at odds, being but three. + ARMADO. Until the goose came out of door, + Staying the odds by adding four. + MOTH. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose; would you desire more? + COSTARD. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's flat. + Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat. + To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose; + Let me see: a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose. + ARMADO. Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin? + MOTH. By saying that a costard was broken in a shin. + Then call'd you for the l'envoy. + COSTARD. True, and I for a plantain. Thus came your argument in; + Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought; + And he ended the market. + ARMADO. But tell me: how was there a costard broken in a shin? + MOTH. I will tell you sensibly. + COSTARD. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak that + l'envoy. + I, Costard, running out, that was safely within, + Fell over the threshold and broke my shin. + ARMADO. We will talk no more of this matter. + COSTARD. Till there be more matter in the shin. + ARMADO. Sirrah Costard. I will enfranchise thee. + COSTARD. O, Marry me to one Frances! I smell some l'envoy, some + goose, in this. + ARMADO. By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, + enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured, restrained, + captivated, bound. + COSTARD. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, and let me + loose. + ARMADO. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, in + lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: bear this + significant [giving a letter] to the country maid Jaquenetta; + there is remuneration, for the best ward of mine honour is + rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. Exit + MOTH. Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu. + COSTARD. My sweet ounce of man's flesh, my incony Jew! + Exit MOTH + Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! O, that's the + Latin word for three farthings. Three farthings- remuneration. + 'What's the price of this inkle?'- 'One penny.'- 'No, I'll give + you a remuneration.' Why, it carries it. Remuneration! Why, it is + a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of + this word. + + Enter BEROWNE + + BEROWNE. My good knave Costard, exceedingly well met! + COSTARD. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for + a remuneration? + BEROWNE. What is a remuneration? + COSTARD. Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing. + BEROWNE. Why, then, three-farthing worth of silk. + COSTARD. I thank your worship. God be wi' you! + BEROWNE. Stay, slave; I must employ thee. + As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, + Do one thing for me that I shall entreat. + COSTARD. When would you have it done, sir? + BEROWNE. This afternoon. + COSTARD. Well, I will do it, sir; fare you well. + BEROWNE. Thou knowest not what it is. + COSTARD. I shall know, sir, when I have done it. + BEROWNE. Why, villain, thou must know first. + COSTARD. I will come to your worship to-morrow morning. + BEROWNE. It must be done this afternoon. + Hark, slave, it is but this: + The Princess comes to hunt here in the park, + And in her train there is a gentle lady; + When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, + And Rosaline they call her. Ask for her, + And to her white hand see thou do commend + This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go. + [Giving him a shilling] + COSTARD. Gardon, O sweet gardon! better than remuneration; a + 'leven-pence farthing better; most sweet gardon! I will do it, + sir, in print. Gardon- remuneration! Exit + BEROWNE. And I, forsooth, in love; I, that have been love's whip; + A very beadle to a humorous sigh; + A critic, nay, a night-watch constable; + A domineering pedant o'er the boy, + Than whom no mortal so magnificent! + This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, + This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; + Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, + Th' anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, + Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, + Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, + Sole imperator, and great general + Of trotting paritors. O my little heart! + And I to be a corporal of his field, + And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop! + What! I love, I sue, I seek a wife- + A woman, that is like a German clock, + Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, + And never going aright, being a watch, + But being watch'd that it may still go right! + Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all; + And, among three, to love the worst of all, + A whitely wanton with a velvet brow, + With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes; + Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed, + Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard. + And I to sigh for her! to watch for her! + To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague + That Cupid will impose for my neglect + Of his almighty dreadful little might. + Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan: + Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +The park + +Enter the PRINCESS, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, BOYET, LORDS, ATTENDANTS, +and a FORESTER + + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Was that the King that spurr'd his horse so + hard + Against the steep uprising of the hill? + BOYET. I know not; but I think it was not he. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Whoe'er 'a was, 'a show'd a mounting mind. + Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch; + On Saturday we will return to France. + Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush + That we must stand and play the murderer in? + FORESTER. Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice; + A stand where you may make the fairest shoot. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. I thank my beauty I am fair that shoot, + And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot. + FORESTER. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. What, what? First praise me, and again say no? + O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? Alack for woe! + FORESTER. Yes, madam, fair. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Nay, never paint me now; + Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. + Here, good my glass, take this for telling true: + [ Giving him money] + Fair payment for foul words is more than due. + FORESTER. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit. + O heresy in fair, fit for these days! + A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise. + But come, the bow. Now mercy goes to kill, + And shooting well is then accounted ill; + Thus will I save my credit in the shoot: + Not wounding, pity would not let me do't; + If wounding, then it was to show my skill, + That more for praise than purpose meant to kill. + And, out of question, so it is sometimes: + Glory grows guilty of detested crimes, + When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, + We bend to that the working of the heart; + As I for praise alone now seek to spill + The poor deer's blood that my heart means no ill. + BOYET. Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty + Only for praise sake, when they strive to be + Lords o'er their lords? + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Only for praise; and praise we may afford + To any lady that subdues a lord. + + Enter COSTARD + + BOYET. Here comes a member of the commonwealth. + COSTARD. God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady? + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that + have no heads. + COSTARD. Which is the greatest lady, the highest? + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. The thickest and the tallest. + COSTARD. The thickest and the tallest! It is so; truth is truth. + An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, + One o' these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit. + Are not you the chief woman? You are the thickest here. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. What's your will, sir? What's your will? + COSTARD. I have a letter from Monsieur Berowne to one + Lady Rosaline. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. O, thy letter, thy letter! He's a good friend + of mine. + Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve. + Break up this capon. + BOYET. I am bound to serve. + This letter is mistook; it importeth none here. + It is writ to Jaquenetta. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. We will read it, I swear. + Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. + BOYET. [Reads] 'By heaven, that thou art fair is most infallible; + true that thou art beauteous; truth itself that thou art lovely. + More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth + itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal. The + magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the + pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that + might rightly say, 'Veni, vidi, vici'; which to annothanize in + the vulgar,- O base and obscure vulgar!- videlicet, He came, saw, + and overcame. He came, one; saw, two; overcame, three. Who came?- + the king. Why did he come?- to see. Why did he see?-to overcome. + To whom came he?- to the beggar. What saw he?- the beggar. Who + overcame he?- the beggar. The conclusion is victory; on whose + side?- the king's. The captive is enrich'd; on whose side?- the + beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial; on whose side?- the + king's. No, on both in one, or one in both. I am the king, for so + stands the comparison; thou the beggar, for so witnesseth thy + lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may. Shall I enforce thy + love? I could. Shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou + exchange for rags?- robes, for tittles?- titles, for thyself? + -me. Thus expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my + eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. + Thine in the dearest design of industry, + DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO. + + 'Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar + 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey; + Submissive fall his princely feet before, + And he from forage will incline to play. + But if thou strive, poor soul, what are thou then? + Food for his rage, repasture for his den.' + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. What plume of feathers is he that indited this + letter? + What vane? What weathercock? Did you ever hear better? + BOYET. I am much deceived but I remember the style. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Else your memory is bad, going o'er it + erewhile. + BOYET. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court; + A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport + To the Prince and his book-mates. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Thou fellow, a word. + Who gave thee this letter? + COSTARD. I told you: my lord. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. To whom shouldst thou give it? + COSTARD. From my lord to my lady. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. From which lord to which lady? + COSTARD. From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine, + To a lady of France that he call'd Rosaline. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, + away. + [To ROSALINE] Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another + day. Exeunt PRINCESS and TRAIN + BOYET. Who is the shooter? who is the shooter? + ROSALINE. Shall I teach you to know? + BOYET. Ay, my continent of beauty. + ROSALINE. Why, she that bears the bow. + Finely put off! + BOYET. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry, + Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. + Finely put on! + ROSALINE. Well then, I am the shooter. + BOYET. And who is your deer? + ROSALINE. If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near. + Finely put on indeed! + MARIA. You Still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the + brow. + BOYET. But she herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now? + ROSALINE. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man + when King Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit + it? + BOYET. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when + Queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit + it. + ROSALINE. [Singing] + Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, + Thou canst not hit it, my good man. + BOYET. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, + An I cannot, another can. + Exeunt ROSALINE and KATHARINE + COSTARD. By my troth, most pleasant! How both did fit it! + MARIA. A mark marvellous well shot; for they both did hit it. + BOYET. A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady! + Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be. + MARIA. Wide o' the bow-hand! I' faith, your hand is out. + COSTARD. Indeed, 'a must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the + clout. + BOYET. An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in. + COSTARD. Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin. + MARIA. Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul. + COSTARD. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir; challenge her to + bowl. + BOYET. I fear too much rubbing; good-night, my good owl. + Exeunt BOYET and MARIA + COSTARD. By my soul, a swain, a most simple clown! + Lord, Lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! + O' my troth, most sweet jests, most incony vulgar wit! + When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit. + Armado a th' t'one side- O, a most dainty man! + To see him walk before a lady and to bear her fan! + To see him kiss his hand, and how most sweetly 'a will swear! + And his page a t' other side, that handful of wit! + Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit! + Sola, sola! Exit COSTARD + + + + +SCENE II. +The park + +From the shooting within, enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, and DULL + + NATHANIEL. Very reverent sport, truly; and done in the testimony of + a good conscience. + HOLOFERNES. The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe as + the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of caelo, + the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab on + the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth. + NATHANIEL. Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly + varied, like a scholar at the least; but, sir, I assure ye it was + a buck of the first head. + HOLOFERNES. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. + DULL. 'Twas not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket. + HOLOFERNES. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation, + as it were, in via, in way, of explication; facere, as it were, + replication, or rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his + inclination, after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, + unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or ratherest + unconfirmed fashion, to insert again my haud credo for a deer. + DULL. I Said the deer was not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket. + HOLOFERNES. Twice-sod simplicity, bis coctus! + O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look! + NATHANIEL. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in + a book; + He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink; his + intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible + in the duller parts; + And such barren plants are set before us that we thankful should + be- + Which we of taste and feeling are- for those parts that do + fructify in us more than he. + For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool, + So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school. + But, omne bene, say I, being of an old father's mind: + Many can brook the weather that love not the wind. + DULL. You two are book-men: can you tell me by your wit + What was a month old at Cain's birth that's not five weeks old as + yet? + HOLOFERNES. Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull. + DULL. What is Dictynna? + NATHANIEL. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon. + HOLOFERNES. The moon was a month old when Adam was no more, + And raught not to five weeks when he came to five-score. + Th' allusion holds in the exchange. + DULL. 'Tis true, indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange. + HOLOFERNES. God comfort thy capacity! I say th' allusion holds in + the exchange. + DULL. And I say the polusion holds in the exchange; for the moon is + never but a month old; and I say, beside, that 'twas a pricket + that the Princess kill'd. + HOLOFERNES. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on + the death of the deer? And, to humour the ignorant, call the deer + the Princess kill'd a pricket. + NATHANIEL. Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge, so it shall please + you to abrogate scurrility. + HOLOFERNES. I Will something affect the letter, for it argues + facility. + + The preyful Princess pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing + pricket. + Some say a sore; but not a sore till now made sore with shooting. + The dogs did yell; put el to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket- + Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting. + If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores o' sorel. + Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L. + + NATHANIEL. A rare talent! + DULL. [Aside] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a + talent. + HOLOFERNES. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish + extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, + ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions. These are begot in + the ventricle of memory, nourish'd in the womb of pia mater, and + delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But the gift is good in + those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it. + NATHANIEL. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my + parishioners; for their sons are well tutor'd by you, and their + daughters profit very greatly under you. You are a good member of + the commonwealth. + HOLOFERNES. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they shall want + no instruction; if their daughters be capable, I will put it to + them; but, vir sapit qui pauca loquitur. A soul feminine saluteth + us. + + Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD + + JAQUENETTA. God give you good morrow, Master Person. + HOLOFERNES. Master Person, quasi pers-one. And if one should be + pierc'd which is the one? + COSTARD. Marry, Master Schoolmaster, he that is likest to a + hogshead. + HOLOFERNES. Piercing a hogshead! A good lustre of conceit in a turf + of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a swine; 'tis + pretty; it is well. + JAQUENETTA. Good Master Parson, be so good as read me this letter; + it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado. I + beseech you read it. + HOLOFERNES. Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbra + Ruminat- + and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I may speak of thee as + the traveller doth of Venice: + Venetia, Venetia, + Chi non ti vede, non ti pretia. + Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! Who understandeth thee not, + loves thee not- + Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. + Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or rather as + Horace says in his- What, my soul, verses? + NATHANIEL. Ay, sir, and very learned. + HOLOFERNES. Let me hear a staff, a stanze, a verse; lege, domine. + NATHANIEL. [Reads] 'If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to + love? + Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! + Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; + Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed. + Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, + Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend. + If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; + Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend; + All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; + Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire. + Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, + Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. + Celestial as thou art, O, pardon love this wrong, + That singes heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue.' + HOLOFERNES. You find not the apostrophas, and so miss the accent: + let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; + but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, + caret. Ovidius Naso was the man. And why, indeed, 'Naso' but for + smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of + invention? Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the + ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, + was this directed to you? + JAQUENETTA. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Berowne, one of the strange + queen's lords. + HOLOFERNES. I will overglance the superscript: 'To the snow-white + hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline.' I will look again on + the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party + writing to the person written unto: 'Your Ladyship's in all + desired employment, Berowne.' Sir Nathaniel, this Berowne is one + of the votaries with the King; and here he hath framed a letter + to a sequent of the stranger queen's which accidentally, or by + the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go, my sweet; + deliver this paper into the royal hand of the King; it may + concern much. Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty. Adieu. + JAQUENETTA. Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life! + COSTARD. Have with thee, my girl. + Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA + NATHANIEL. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very + religiously; and, as a certain father saith- + HOLOFERNES. Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable + colours. But to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir + Nathaniel? + NATHANIEL. Marvellous well for the pen. + HOLOFERNES. I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of + mine; where, if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify + the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the + parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben + venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, + neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your + society. + NATHANIEL. And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is the + happiness of life. + HOLOFERNES. And certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. + [To DULL] Sir, I do invite you too; you shall not say me nay: + pauca verba. Away; the gentles are at their game, and we will to + our recreation. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +The park + +Enter BEROWNE, with a paper his band, alone + + BEROWNE. The King he is hunting the deer: I am coursing myself. + They have pitch'd a toil: I am tolling in a pitch- pitch that + defiles. Defile! a foul word. Well, 'set thee down, sorrow!' for + so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I am the fool. Well + proved, wit. By the Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it kills + sheep; it kills me- I a sheep. Well proved again o' my side. I + will not love; if I do, hang me. I' faith, I will not. O, but her + eye! By this light, but for her eye, I would not love her- yes, + for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing in the world but lie, and + lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love; and it hath taught me to + rhyme, and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and + here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my sonnets already; the + clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet + clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not + care a pin if the other three were in. Here comes one with a + paper; God give him grace to groan! + [Climbs into a tree] + + Enter the KING, with a paper + + KING. Ay me! + BEROWNE. Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thump'd + him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets! + KING. [Reads] + 'So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not + To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, + As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote + The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows; + Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright + Through the transparent bosom of the deep, + As doth thy face through tears of mine give light. + Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep; + No drop but as a coach doth carry thee; + So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. + Do but behold the tears that swell in me, + And they thy glory through my grief will show. + But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep + My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. + O queen of queens! how far dost thou excel + No thought can think nor tongue of mortal tell.' + How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper- + Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here? + [Steps aside] + + Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper + + What, Longaville, and reading! Listen, car. + BEROWNE. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear! + LONGAVILLE. Ay me, I am forsworn! + BEROWNE. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers. + KING. In love, I hope; sweet fellowship in shame! + BEROWNE. One drunkard loves another of the name. + LONGAVILLE. Am I the first that have been perjur'd so? + BEROWNE. I could put thee in comfort: not by two that I know; + Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, + The shape of Love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity. + LONGAVILLE. I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move. + O sweet Maria, empress of my love! + These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. + BEROWNE. O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose: + Disfigure not his slop. + LONGAVILLE. This same shall go. [He reads the sonnet] + 'Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, + 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, + Persuade my heart to this false perjury? + Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. + A woman I forswore; but I will prove, + Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: + My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; + Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. + Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is; + Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, + Exhal'st this vapour-vow; in thee it is. + If broken, then it is no fault of mine; + If by me broke, what fool is not so wise + To lose an oath to win a paradise?' + BEROWNE. This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity, + A green goose a goddess- pure, pure idolatry. + God amend us, God amend! We are much out o' th' way. + + Enter DUMAIN, with a paper + + LONGAVILLE. By whom shall I send this?- Company! Stay. + [Steps aside] + BEROWNE. 'All hid, all hid'- an old infant play. + Like a demigod here sit I in the sky, + And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. + More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish! + Dumain transformed! Four woodcocks in a dish! + DUMAIN. O most divine Kate! + BEROWNE. O most profane coxcomb! + DUMAIN. By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye! + BEROWNE. By earth, she is not, corporal: there you lie. + DUMAIN. Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted. + BEROWNE. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted. + DUMAIN. As upright as the cedar. + BEROWNE. Stoop, I say; + Her shoulder is with child. + DUMAIN. As fair as day. + BEROWNE. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine. + DUMAIN. O that I had my wish! + LONGAVILLE. And I had mine! + KING. And I mine too,.good Lord! + BEROWNE. Amen, so I had mine! Is not that a good word? + DUMAIN. I would forget her; but a fever she + Reigns in my blood, and will rememb'red be. + BEROWNE. A fever in your blood? Why, then incision + Would let her out in saucers. Sweet misprision! + DUMAIN. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. + BEROWNE. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. + DUMAIN. [Reads] + 'On a day-alack the day!- + Love, whose month is ever May, + Spied a blossom passing fair + Playing in the wanton air. + Through the velvet leaves the wind, + All unseen, can passage find; + That the lover, sick to death, + Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. + "Air," quoth he "thy cheeks may blow; + Air, would I might triumph so! + But, alack, my hand is sworn + Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn; + Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, + Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. + Do not call it sin in me + That I am forsworn for thee; + Thou for whom Jove would swear + Juno but an Ethiope were; + And deny himself for Jove, + Turning mortal for thy love."' + This will I send; and something else more plain + That shall express my true love's fasting pain. + O, would the King, Berowne and Longaville, + Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill, + Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note; + For none offend where all alike do dote. + LONGAVILLE. [Advancing] Dumain, thy love is far from charity, + That in love's grief desir'st society; + You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, + To be o'erheard and taken napping so. + KING. [Advancing] Come, sir, you blush; as his, your case is such. + You chide at him, offending twice as much: + You do not love Maria! Longaville + Did never sonnet for her sake compile; + Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart + His loving bosom, to keep down his heart. + I have been closely shrouded in this bush, + And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush. + I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion, + Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion. + 'Ay me!' says one. 'O Jove!' the other cries. + One, her hairs were gold; crystal the other's eyes. + [To LONGAVILLE] You would for paradise break faith and troth; + [To Dumain] And Jove for your love would infringe an oath. + What will Berowne say when that he shall hear + Faith infringed which such zeal did swear? + How will he scorn, how will he spend his wit! + How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it! + For all the wealth that ever I did see, + I would not have him know so much by me. + BEROWNE. [Descending] Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy, + Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me. + Good heart, what grace hast thou thus to reprove + These worms for loving, that art most in love? + Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears + There is no certain princess that appears; + You'll not be perjur'd; 'tis a hateful thing; + Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting. + But are you not ashamed? Nay, are you not, + All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot? + You found his mote; the King your mote did see; + But I a beam do find in each of three. + O, what a scene of fool'ry have I seen, + Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen! + O, me, with what strict patience have I sat, + To see a king transformed to a gnat! + To see great Hercules whipping a gig, + And profound Solomon to tune a jig, + And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, + And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! + Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain? + And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? + And where my liege's? All about the breast. + A caudle, ho! + KING. Too bitter is thy jest. + Are we betrayed thus to thy over-view? + BEROWNE. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you. + I that am honest, I that hold it sin + To break the vow I am engaged in; + I am betrayed by keeping company + With men like you, men of inconstancy. + When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? + Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time + In pruning me? When shall you hear that I + Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, + A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, + A leg, a limb- + KING. Soft! whither away so fast? + A true man or a thief that gallops so? + BEROWNE. I post from love; good lover, let me go. + + Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD + + JAQUENETTA. God bless the King! + KING. What present hast thou there? + COSTARD. Some certain treason. + KING. What makes treason here? + COSTARD. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. + KING. If it mar nothing neither, + The treason and you go in peace away together. + JAQUENETTA. I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read; + Our person misdoubts it: 'twas treason, he said. + KING. Berowne, read it over. [BEROWNE reads the letter] + Where hadst thou it? + JAQUENETTA. Of Costard. + KING. Where hadst thou it? + COSTARD. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. + [BEROWNE tears the letter] + KING. How now! What is in you? Why dost thou tear it? + BEROWNE. A toy, my liege, a toy! Your Grace needs not fear it. + LONGAVILLE. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear + it. + DUMAIN. It is Berowne's writing, and here is his name. + [Gathering up the pieces] + BEROWNE. [ To COSTARD] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, you were born + to do me shame. + Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess. + KING. What? + BEROWNE. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess; + He, he, and you- and you, my liege!- and I + Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. + O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. + DUMAIN. Now the number is even. + BEROWNE. True, true, we are four. + Will these turtles be gone? + KING. Hence, sirs, away. + COSTARD. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay. + Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA + BEROWNE. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace! + As true we are as flesh and blood can be. + The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; + Young blood doth not obey an old decree. + We cannot cross the cause why we were born, + Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn. + KING. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine? + BEROWNE. 'Did they?' quoth you. Who sees the heavenly Rosaline + That, like a rude and savage man of Inde + At the first op'ning of the gorgeous east, + Bows not his vassal head and, strucken blind, + Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? + What peremptory eagle-sighted eye + Dares look upon the heaven of her brow + That is not blinded by her majesty? + KING. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee now? + My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; + She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. + BEROWNE. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne. + O, but for my love, day would turn to night! + Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty + Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek, + Where several worthies make one dignity, + Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek. + Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues- + Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not! + To things of sale a seller's praise belongs: + She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot. + A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, + Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye. + Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born, + And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. + O, 'tis the sun that maketh all things shine! + KING. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. + BEROWNE. Is ebony like her? O wood divine! + A wife of such wood were felicity. + O, who can give an oath? Where is a book? + That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack, + If that she learn not of her eye to look. + No face is fair that is not full so black. + KING. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell, + The hue of dungeons, and the school of night; + And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. + BEROWNE. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light. + O, if in black my lady's brows be deckt, + It mourns that painting and usurping hair + Should ravish doters with a false aspect; + And therefore is she born to make black fair. + Her favour turns the fashion of the days; + For native blood is counted painting now; + And therefore red that would avoid dispraise + Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. + DUMAIN. To look like her are chimney-sweepers black. + LONGAVILLE. And since her time are colliers counted bright. + KING. And Ethiopes of their sweet complexion crack. + DUMAIN. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. + BEROWNE. Your mistresses dare never come in rain + For fear their colours should be wash'd away. + KING. 'Twere good yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain, + I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day. + BEROWNE. I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here. + KING. No devil will fright thee then so much as she. + DUMAIN. I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear. + LONGAVILLE. Look, here's thy love: my foot and her face see. + [Showing his shoe] + BEROWNE. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes, + Her feet were much too dainty for such tread! + DUMAIN. O vile! Then, as she goes, what upward lies + The street should see as she walk'd overhead. + KING. But what of this? Are we not all in love? + BEROWNE. Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn. + KING. Then leave this chat; and, good Berowne, now prove + Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. + DUMAIN. Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil. + LONGAVILLE. O, some authority how to proceed; + Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil! + DUMAIN. Some salve for perjury. + BEROWNE. 'Tis more than need. + Have at you, then, affection's men-at-arms. + Consider what you first did swear unto: + To fast, to study, and to see no woman- + Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. + Say, can you fast? Your stomachs are too young, + And abstinence engenders maladies. + And, where that you you have vow'd to study, lords, + In that each of you have forsworn his book, + Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look? + For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, + Have found the ground of study's excellence + Without the beauty of a woman's face? + From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: + They are the ground, the books, the academes, + From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. + Why, universal plodding poisons up + The nimble spirits in the arteries, + As motion and long-during action tires + The sinewy vigour of the traveller. + Now, for not looking on a woman's face, + You have in that forsworn the use of eyes, + And study too, the causer of your vow; + For where is author in the world + Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? + Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, + And where we are our learning likewise is; + Then when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes, + With ourselves. + Do we not likewise see our learning there? + O, we have made a vow to study, lords, + And in that vow we have forsworn our books. + For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, + In leaden contemplation have found out + Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes + Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with? + Other slow arts entirely keep the brain; + And therefore, finding barren practisers, + Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil; + But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, + Lives not alone immured in the brain, + But with the motion of all elements + Courses as swift as thought in every power, + And gives to every power a double power, + Above their functions and their offices. + It adds a precious seeing to the eye: + A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind. + A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, + When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd. + Love's feeling is more soft and sensible + Than are the tender horns of cockled snails: + Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste. + For valour, is not Love a Hercules, + Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? + Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical + As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair. + And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods + Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. + Never durst poet touch a pen to write + Until his ink were temp'red with Love's sighs; + O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, + And plant in tyrants mild humility. + From women's eyes this doctrine I derive. + They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; + They are the books, the arts, the academes, + That show, contain, and nourish, all the world, + Else none at all in aught proves excellent. + Then fools you were these women to forswear; + Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. + For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love; + Or for Love's sake, a word that loves all men; + Or for men's sake, the authors of these women; + Or women's sake, by whom we men are men- + Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, + Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. + It is religion to be thus forsworn; + For charity itself fulfils the law, + And who can sever love from charity? + KING. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field! + BEROWNE. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords; + Pell-mell, down with them! be first advis'd, + In conflict, that you get the sun of them. + LONGAVILLE. Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by. + Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France? + KING. And win them too; therefore let us devise + Some entertainment for them in their tents. + BEROWNE. First, from the park let us conduct them thither; + Then homeward every man attach the hand + Of his fair mistress. In the afternoon + We will with some strange pastime solace them, + Such as the shortness of the time can shape; + For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours, + Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers. + KING. Away, away! No time shall be omitted + That will betime, and may by us be fitted. + BEROWNE. Allons! allons! Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn, + And justice always whirls in equal measure. + Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn; + If so, our copper buys no better treasure. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +The park + +Enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, and DULL + + HOLOFERNES. Satis quod sufficit. + NATHANIEL. I praise God for you, sir. Your reasons at dinner have + been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty + without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without + opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse this quondam + day with a companion of the King's who is intituled, nominated, + or called, Don Adriano de Armado. + HOLOFERNES. Novi hominem tanquam te. His humour is lofty, his + discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his + gait majestical and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and + thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, + as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it. + NATHANIEL. A most singular and choice epithet. + [Draws out his table-book] + HOLOFERNES. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than + the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, + such insociable and point-devise companions; such rackers of + orthography, as to speak 'dout' fine, when he should say 'doubt'; + 'det' when he should pronounce 'debt'- d, e, b, t, not d, e, t. + He clepeth a calf 'cauf,' half 'hauf'; neighbour vocatur + 'nebour'; 'neigh' abbreviated 'ne.' This is abhominable- which he + would call 'abbominable.' It insinuateth me of insanie: ne + intelligis, domine? to make frantic, lunatic. + NATHANIEL. Laus Deo, bone intelligo. + HOLOFERNES. 'Bone'?- 'bone' for 'bene.' Priscian a little + scratch'd; 'twill serve. + + Enter ARMADO, MOTH, and COSTARD + + NATHANIEL. Videsne quis venit? + HOLOFERNES. Video, et gaudeo. + ARMADO. [To MOTH] Chirrah! + HOLOFERNES. Quare 'chirrah,' not 'sirrah'? + ARMADO. Men of peace, well encount'red. + HOLOFERNES. Most military sir, salutation. + MOTH. [Aside to COSTARD] They have been at a great feast of + languages and stol'n the scraps. + COSTARD. O, they have liv'd long on the alms-basket of words. I + marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou are + not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus; thou art + easier swallowed than a flap-dragon. + MOTH. Peace! the peal begins. + ARMADO. [To HOLOFERNES] Monsieur, are you not lett'red? + MOTH. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the hornbook. What is a, b, spelt + backward with the horn on his head? + HOLOFERNES. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added. + MOTH. Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. You hear his learning. + HOLOFERNES. Quis, quis, thou consonant? + MOTH. The third of the five vowels, if You repeat them; or the + fifth, if I. + HOLOFERNES. I will repeat them: a, e, I- + MOTH. The sheep; the other two concludes it: o, U. + ARMADO. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet touch, + a quick venue of wit- snip, snap, quick and home. It rejoiceth my + intellect. True wit! + MOTH. Offer'd by a child to an old man; which is wit-old. + HOLOFERNES. What is the figure? What is the figure? + MOTH. Horns. + HOLOFERNES. Thou disputes like an infant; go whip thy gig. + MOTH. Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about your + infamy circum circa- a gig of a cuckold's horn. + COSTARD. An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it + to buy ginger-bread. Hold, there is the very remuneration I had + of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of + discretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but + my bastard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to; + thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers' ends, as they say. + HOLOFERNES. O, I smell false Latin; 'dunghill' for unguem. + ARMADO. Arts-man, preambulate; we will be singuled from the + barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house on the + top of the mountain? + HOLOFERNES. Or mons, the hill. + ARMADO. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain. + HOLOFERNES. I do, sans question. + ARMADO. Sir, it is the King's most sweet pleasure and affection to + congratulate the Princess at her pavilion, in the posteriors of + this day; which the rude multitude call the afternoon. + HOLOFERNES. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, + congruent, and measurable, for the afternoon. The word is well + cull'd, chose, sweet, and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure. + ARMADO. Sir, the King is a noble gentleman, and my familiar, I do + assure ye, very good friend. For what is inward between us, let + it pass. I do beseech thee, remember thy courtesy. I beseech + thee, apparel thy head. And among other importunate and most + serious designs, and of great import indeed, too- but let that + pass; for I must tell thee it will please his Grace, by the + world, sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal + finger thus dally with my excrement, with my mustachio; but, + sweet heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no fable: + some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart + to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world; + but let that pass. The very all of all is- but, sweet heart, I do + implore secrecy- that the King would have me present the + Princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, + or pageant, or antic, or firework. Now, understanding that the + curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions and sudden + breaking-out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted you withal, + to the end to crave your assistance. + HOLOFERNES. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. + Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment of time, some + show in the posterior of this day, to be rend'red by our + assistance, the King's command, and this most gallant, + illustrate, and learned gentleman, before the Princess- I say + none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies. + NATHANIEL. Where will you find men worthy enough to present them? + HOLOFERNES. Joshua, yourself; myself, Alexander; this gallant + gentleman, Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great + limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules. + ARMADO. Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for that + Worthy's thumb; he is not so big as the end of his club. + HOLOFERNES. Shall I have audience? He shall present Hercules in + minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling a snake; and I + will have an apology for that purpose. + MOTH. An excellent device! So, if any of the audience hiss, you may + cry 'Well done, Hercules; now thou crushest the snake!' That is + the way to make an offence gracious, though few have the grace to + do it. + ARMADO. For the rest of the Worthies? + HOLOFERNES. I will play three myself. + MOTH. Thrice-worthy gentleman! + ARMADO. Shall I tell you a thing? + HOLOFERNES. We attend. + ARMADO. We will have, if this fadge not, an antic. I beseech you, + follow. + HOLOFERNES. Via, goodman Dull! Thou has spoken no word all this + while. + DULL. Nor understood none neither, sir. + HOLOFERNES. Allons! we will employ thee. + DULL. I'll make one in a dance, or so, or I will play + On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay. + HOLOFERNES. Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +The park + +Enter the PRINCESS, MARIA, KATHARINE, and ROSALINE + + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, + If fairings come thus plentifully in. + A lady wall'd about with diamonds! + Look you what I have from the loving King. + ROSALINE. Madam, came nothing else along with that? + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Nothing but this! Yes, as much love in rhyme + As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper + Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all, + That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name. + ROSALINE. That was the way to make his godhead wax; + For he hath been five thousand year a boy. + KATHARINE. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too. + ROSALINE. You'll ne'er be friends with him: 'a kill'd your sister. + KATHARINE. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy; + And so she died. Had she been light, like you, + Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, + She might 'a been a grandam ere she died. + And so may you; for a light heart lives long. + ROSALINE. What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word? + KATHARINE. A light condition in a beauty dark. + ROSALINE. We need more light to find your meaning out. + KATHARINE. You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff; + Therefore I'll darkly end the argument. + ROSALINE. Look what you do, you do it still i' th' dark. + KATHARINE. So do not you; for you are a light wench. + ROSALINE. Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore light. + KATHARINE. You weigh me not? O, that's you care not for me. + ROSALINE. Great reason; for 'past cure is still past care.' + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd. + But, Rosaline, you have a favour too? + Who sent it? and what is it? + ROSALINE. I would you knew. + An if my face were but as fair as yours, + My favour were as great: be witness this. + Nay, I have verses too, I thank Berowne; + The numbers true, and, were the numb'ring too, + I were the fairest goddess on the ground. + I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. + O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter! + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Anything like? + ROSALINE. Much in the letters; nothing in the praise. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Beauteous as ink- a good conclusion. + KATHARINE. Fair as a text B in a copy-book. + ROSALINE. Ware pencils, ho! Let me not die your debtor, + My red dominical, my golden letter: + O that your face were not so full of O's! + KATHARINE. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows! + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair + Dumain? + KATHARINE. Madam, this glove. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Did he not send you twain? + KATHARINE. Yes, madam; and, moreover, + Some thousand verses of a faithful lover; + A huge translation of hypocrisy, + Vilely compil'd, profound simplicity. + MARIA. This, and these pearl, to me sent Longaville; + The letter is too long by half a mile. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart + The chain were longer and the letter short? + MARIA. Ay, or I would these hands might never part. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so. + ROSALINE. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. + That same Berowne I'll torture ere I go. + O that I knew he were but in by th' week! + How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek, + And wait the season, and observe the times, + And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes, + And shape his service wholly to my hests, + And make him proud to make me proud that jests! + So pertaunt-like would I o'ersway his state + That he should be my fool, and I his fate. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. None are so surely caught, when they are + catch'd, + As wit turn'd fool; folly, in wisdom hatch'd, + Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school, + And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. + ROSALINE. The blood of youth burns not with such excess + As gravity's revolt to wantonness. + MARIA. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note + As fool'ry in the wise when wit doth dote, + Since all the power thereof it doth apply + To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. + + Enter BOYET + + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. + BOYET. O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's her Grace? + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Thy news, Boyet? + BOYET. Prepare, madam, prepare! + Arm, wenches, arm! Encounters mounted are + Against your peace. Love doth approach disguis'd, + Armed in arguments; you'll be surpris'd. + Muster your wits; stand in your own defence; + Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Saint Dennis to Saint Cupid! What are they + That charge their breath against us? Say, scout, say. + BOYET. Under the cool shade of a sycamore + I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour; + When, lo, to interrupt my purpos'd rest, + Toward that shade I might behold addrest + The King and his companions; warily + I stole into a neighbour thicket by, + And overheard what you shall overhear- + That, by and by, disguis'd they will be here. + Their herald is a pretty knavish page, + That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage. + Action and accent did they teach him there: + 'Thus must thou speak' and 'thus thy body bear,' + And ever and anon they made a doubt + Presence majestical would put him out; + 'For' quoth the King 'an angel shalt thou see; + Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.' + The boy replied 'An angel is not evil; + I should have fear'd her had she been a devil.' + With that all laugh'd, and clapp'd him on the shoulder, + Making the bold wag by their praises bolder. + One rubb'd his elbow, thus, and fleer'd, and swore + A better speech was never spoke before. + Another with his finger and his thumb + Cried 'Via! we will do't, come what will come.' + The third he caper'd, and cried 'All goes well.' + The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell. + With that they all did tumble on the ground, + With such a zealous laughter, so profound, + That in this spleen ridiculous appears, + To check their folly, passion's solemn tears. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. But what, but what, come they to visit us? + BOYET. They do, they do, and are apparell'd thus, + Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess. + Their purpose is to parley, court, and dance; + And every one his love-feat will advance + Unto his several mistress; which they'll know + By favours several which they did bestow. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. And will they so? The gallants shall be task'd, + For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd; + And not a man of them shall have the grace, + Despite of suit, to see a lady's face. + Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear, + And then the King will court thee for his dear; + Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine, + So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline. + And change you favours too; so shall your loves + Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes. + ROSALINE. Come on, then, wear the favours most in sight. + KATHARINE. But, in this changing, what is your intent? + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. The effect of my intent is to cross theirs. + They do it but in mocking merriment, + And mock for mock is only my intent. + Their several counsels they unbosom shall + To loves mistook, and so be mock'd withal + Upon the next occasion that we meet + With visages display'd to talk and greet. + ROSALINE. But shall we dance, if they desire us to't? + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. No, to the death, we will not move a foot, + Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace; + But while 'tis spoke each turn away her face. + BOYET. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart, + And quite divorce his memory from his part. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt + The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out. + There's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown, + To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own; + So shall we stay, mocking intended game, + And they well mock'd depart away with shame. + [Trumpet sounds within] + BOYET. The trumpet sounds; be mask'd; the maskers come. + [The LADIES mask] + + Enter BLACKAMOORS music, MOTH as Prologue, the + KING and his LORDS as maskers, in the guise of Russians + + MOTH. All hail, the richest heauties on the earth! + BOYET. Beauties no richer than rich taffeta. + MOTH. A holy parcel of the fairest dames + [The LADIES turn their backs to him] + That ever turn'd their- backs- to mortal views! + BEROWNE. Their eyes, villain, their eyes. + MOTH. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views! + Out- + BOYET. True; out indeed. + MOTH. Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe + Not to behold- + BEROWNE. Once to behold, rogue. + MOTH. Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes- with your + sun-beamed eyes- + BOYET. They will not answer to that epithet; + You were best call it 'daughter-beamed eyes.' + MOTH. They do not mark me, and that brings me out. + BEROWNE. Is this your perfectness? Be gone, you rogue. + Exit MOTH + ROSALINE. What would these strangers? Know their minds, Boyet. + If they do speak our language, 'tis our will + That some plain man recount their purposes. + Know what they would. + BOYET. What would you with the Princess? + BEROWNE. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation. + ROSALINE. What would they, say they? + BOYET. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation. + ROSALINE. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone. + BOYET. She says you have it, and you may be gone. + KING. Say to her we have measur'd many miles + To tread a measure with her on this grass. + BOYET. They say that they have measur'd many a mile + To tread a measure with you on this grass. + ROSALINE. It is not so. Ask them how many inches + Is in one mile? If they have measured many, + The measure, then, of one is eas'ly told. + BOYET. If to come hither you have measur'd miles, + And many miles, the Princess bids you tell + How many inches doth fill up one mile. + BEROWNE. Tell her we measure them by weary steps. + BOYET. She hears herself. + ROSALINE. How many weary steps + Of many weary miles you have o'ergone + Are numb'red in the travel of one mile? + BEROWNE. We number nothing that we spend for you; + Our duty is so rich, so infinite, + That we may do it still without accompt. + Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, + That we, like savages, may worship it. + ROSALINE. My face is but a moon, and clouded too. + KING. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do. + Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine, + Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne. + ROSALINE. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; + Thou now requests but moonshine in the water. + KING. Then in our measure do but vouchsafe one change. + Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange. + ROSALINE. Play, music, then. Nay, you must do it soon. + Not yet? No dance! Thus change I like the moon. + KING. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged? + ROSALINE. You took the moon at full; but now she's changed. + KING. Yet still she is the Moon, and I the Man. + The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it. + ROSALINE. Our ears vouchsafe it. + KING. But your legs should do it. + ROSALINE. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance, + We'll not be nice; take hands. We will not dance. + KING. Why take we hands then? + ROSALINE. Only to part friends. + Curtsy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends. + KING. More measure of this measure; be not nice. + ROSALINE. We can afford no more at such a price. + KING. Price you yourselves. What buys your company? + ROSALINE. Your absence only. + KING. That can never be. + ROSALINE. Then cannot we be bought; and so adieu- + Twice to your visor and half once to you. + KING. If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. + ROSALINE. In private then. + KING. I am best pleas'd with that. [They converse apart] + BEROWNE. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three. + BEROWNE. Nay, then, two treys, an if you grow so nice, + Metheglin, wort, and malmsey; well run dice! + There's half a dozen sweets. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Seventh sweet, adieu! + Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. + BEROWNE. One word in secret. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Let it not be sweet. + BEROWNE. Thou grievest my gall. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Gall! bitter. + BEROWNE. Therefore meet. [They converse apart] + DUMAIN. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word? + MARIA. Name it. + DUMAIN. Fair lady- + MARIA. Say you so? Fair lord- + Take that for your fair lady. + DUMAIN. Please it you, + As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. + [They converse apart] + KATHARINE. What, was your vizard made without a tongue? + LONGAVILLE. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. + KATHARINE. O for your reason! Quickly, sir; I long. + LONGAVILLE. You have a double tongue within your mask, + And would afford my speechless vizard half. + KATHARINE. 'Veal' quoth the Dutchman. Is not 'veal' a calf? + LONGAVILLE. A calf, fair lady! + KATHARINE. No, a fair lord calf. + LONGAVILLE. Let's part the word. + KATHARINE. No, I'll not be your half. + Take all and wean it; it may prove an ox. + LONGAVILLE. Look how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks! + Will you give horns, chaste lady? Do not so. + KATHARINE. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. + LONGAVILLE. One word in private with you ere I die. + KATHARINE. Bleat softly, then; the butcher hears you cry. + [They converse apart] + BOYET. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen + As is the razor's edge invisible, + Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen, + Above the sense of sense; so sensible + Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings, + Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things. + ROSALINE. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. + BEROWNE. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! + KING. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits. + Exeunt KING, LORDS, and BLACKAMOORS + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. + Are these the breed of wits so wondered at? + BOYET. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out. + ROSALINE. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! + Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night? + Or ever but in vizards show their faces? + This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite. + ROSALINE. They were all in lamentable cases! + The King was weeping-ripe for a good word. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Berowne did swear himself out of all suit. + MARIA. Dumain was at my service, and his sword. + 'No point' quoth I; my servant straight was mute. + KATHARINE. Lord Longaville said I came o'er his heart; + And trow you what he call'd me? + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Qualm, perhaps. + KATHARINE. Yes, in good faith. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Go, sickness as thou art! + ROSALINE. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. + But will you hear? The King is my love sworn. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. And quick Berowne hath plighted faith to me. + KATHARINE. And Longaville was for my service born. + MARIA. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree. + BOYET. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear: + Immediately they will again be here + In their own shapes; for it can never be + They will digest this harsh indignity. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Will they return? + BOYET. They will, they will, God knows, + And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows; + Therefore, change favours; and, when they repair, + Blow like sweet roses in this summer air. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. How blow? how blow? Speak to be understood. + BOYET. Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their bud: + Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, + Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do + If they return in their own shapes to woo? + ROSALINE. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, + Let's mock them still, as well known as disguis'd. + Let us complain to them what fools were here, + Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; + And wonder what they were, and to what end + Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn'd, + And their rough carriage so ridiculous, + Should be presented at our tent to us. + BOYET. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at hand. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er land. + Exeunt PRINCESS, ROSALINE, KATHARINE, and MARIA + + Re-enter the KING, BEROWNE, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, + in their proper habits + + KING. Fair sir, God save you! Where's the Princess? + BOYET. Gone to her tent. Please it your Majesty + Command me any service to her thither? + KING. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. + BOYET. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. Exit + BEROWNE. This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease, + And utters it again when God doth please. + He is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares + At wakes, and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs; + And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, + Have not the grace to grace it with such show. + This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; + Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve. + 'A can carve too, and lisp; why this is he + That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy; + This is the ape of form, Monsieur the Nice, + That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice + In honourable terms; nay, he can sing + A mean most meanly; and in ushering, + Mend him who can. The ladies call him sweet; + The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet. + This is the flow'r that smiles on every one, + To show his teeth as white as whales-bone; + And consciences that will not die in debt + Pay him the due of 'honey-tongued Boyet.' + KING. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, + That put Armado's page out of his part! + + Re-enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE, + MARIA, and KATHARINE + + BEROWNE. See where it comes! Behaviour, what wert thou + Till this man show'd thee? And what art thou now? + KING. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. 'Fair' in 'all hail' is foul, as I conceive. + KING. Construe my speeches better, if you may. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Then wish me better; I will give you leave. + KING. We came to visit you, and purpose now + To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. This field shall hold me, and so hold your vow: + Nor God, nor I, delights in perjur'd men. + KING. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke. + The virtue of your eye must break my oath. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. You nickname virtue: vice you should have + spoke; + For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. + Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure + As the unsullied lily, I protest, + A world of torments though I should endure, + I would not yield to be your house's guest; + So much I hate a breaking cause to be + Of heavenly oaths, vowed with integrity. + KING. O, you have liv'd in desolation here, + Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear; + We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game; + A mess of Russians left us but of late. + KING. How, madam! Russians! + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Ay, in truth, my lord; + Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state. + ROSALINE. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord. + My lady, to the manner of the days, + In courtesy gives undeserving praise. + We four indeed confronted were with four + In Russian habit; here they stayed an hour + And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, + They did not bless us with one happy word. + I dare not call them fools; but this I think, + When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. + BEROWNE. This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle sweet, + Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we greet, + With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye, + By light we lose light; your capacity + Is of that nature that to your huge store + Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor. + ROSALINE. This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye- + BEROWNE. I am a fool, and full of poverty. + ROSALINE. But that you take what doth to you belong, + It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. + BEROWNE. O, I am yours, and all that I possess. + ROSALINE. All the fool mine? + BEROWNE. I cannot give you less. + ROSALINE. Which of the vizards was it that you wore? + BEROWNE. Where? when? what vizard? Why demand you this? + ROSALINE. There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case + That hid the worse and show'd the better face. + KING. We were descried; they'll mock us now downright. + DUMAIN. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your Highness sad? + ROSALINE. Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale? + Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. + BEROWNE. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. + Can any face of brass hold longer out? + Here stand I, lady- dart thy skill at me, + Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout, + Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance, + Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; + And I will wish thee never more to dance, + Nor never more in Russian habit wait. + O, never will I trust to speeches penn'd, + Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue, + Nor never come in vizard to my friend, + Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song. + Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, + Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation, + Figures pedantical- these summer-flies + Have blown me full of maggot ostentation. + I do forswear them; and I here protest, + By this white glove- how white the hand, God knows!- + Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd + In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes. + And, to begin, wench- so God help me, law!- + My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. + ROSALINE. Sans 'sans,' I pray you. + BEROWNE. Yet I have a trick + Of the old rage; bear with me, I am sick; + I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see- + Write 'Lord have mercy on us' on those three; + They are infected; in their hearts it lies; + They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes. + These lords are visited; you are not free, + For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us. + BEROWNE. Our states are forfeit; seek not to undo us. + ROSALINE. It is not so; for how can this be true, + That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? + BEROWNE. Peace; for I will not have to do with you. + ROSALINE. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. + BEROWNE. Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end. + KING. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression + Some fair excuse. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. The fairest is confession. + Were not you here but even now, disguis'd? + KING. Madam, I was. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. And were you well advis'd? + KING. I was, fair madam. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. When you then were here, + What did you whisper in your lady's ear? + KING. That more than all the world I did respect her. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. When she shall challenge this, you will reject + her. + KING. Upon mine honour, no. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Peace, peace, forbear; + Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. + KING. Despise me when I break this oath of mine. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. I will; and therefore keep it. Rosaline, + What did the Russian whisper in your ear? + ROSALINE. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear + As precious eyesight, and did value me + Above this world; adding thereto, moreover, + That he would wed me, or else die my lover. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. God give thee joy of him! The noble lord + Most honourably doth uphold his word. + KING. What mean you, madam? By my life, my troth, + I never swore this lady such an oath. + ROSALINE. By heaven, you did; and, to confirm it plain, + You gave me this; but take it, sir, again. + KING. My faith and this the Princess I did give; + I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; + And Lord Berowne, I thank him, is my dear. + What, will you have me, or your pearl again? + BEROWNE. Neither of either; I remit both twain. + I see the trick on't: here was a consent, + Knowing aforehand of our merriment, + To dash it like a Christmas comedy. + Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, + Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick, + That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick + To make my lady laugh when she's dispos'd, + Told our intents before; which once disclos'd, + The ladies did change favours; and then we, + Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she. + Now, to our perjury to add more terror, + We are again forsworn in will and error. + Much upon this it is; [To BOYET] and might not you + Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? + Do not you know my lady's foot by th' squier, + And laugh upon the apple of her eye? + And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, + Holding a trencher, jesting merrily? + You put our page out. Go, you are allow'd; + Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud. + You leer upon me, do you? There's an eye + Wounds like a leaden sword. + BOYET. Full merrily + Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. + BEROWNE. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace; I have done. + + Enter COSTARD + + Welcome, pure wit! Thou part'st a fair fray. + COSTARD. O Lord, sir, they would know + Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no? + BEROWNE. What, are there but three? + COSTARD. No, sir; but it is vara fine, + For every one pursents three. + BEROWNE. And three times thrice is nine. + COSTARD. Not so, sir; under correction, sir, + I hope it is not so. + You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we + know; + I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir- + BEROWNE. Is not nine. + COSTARD. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount. + BEROWNE. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. + COSTARD. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by + reck'ning, sir. + BEROWNE. How much is it? + COSTARD. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will + show whereuntil it doth amount. For mine own part, I am, as they + say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, + sir. + BEROWNE. Art thou one of the Worthies? + COSTARD. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey the Great; + for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy; but I am + to stand for him. + BEROWNE. Go, bid them prepare. + COSTARD. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care. + Exit COSTARD + KING. Berowne, they will shame us; let them not approach. + BEROWNE. We are shame-proof, my lord, and 'tis some policy + To have one show worse than the King's and his company. + KING. I say they shall not come. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you now. + That sport best pleases that doth least know how; + Where zeal strives to content, and the contents + Dies in the zeal of that which it presents. + Their form confounded makes most form in mirth, + When great things labouring perish in their birth. + BEROWNE. A right description of our sport, my lord. + + Enter ARMADO + + ARMADO. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet + breath as will utter a brace of words. + [Converses apart with the KING, and delivers a paper] + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Doth this man serve God? + BEROWNE. Why ask you? + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. 'A speaks not like a man of God his making. + ARMADO. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I + protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too too vain, + too too vain; but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la + guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! + Exit ARMADO + KING. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents + Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, + Alexander; Arinado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas + Maccabaeus. + And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive, + These four will change habits and present the other five. + BEROWNE. There is five in the first show. + KING. You are deceived, 'tis not so. + BEROWNE. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and + the boy: + Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again + Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein. + KING. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain. + + Enter COSTARD, armed for POMPEY + + COSTARD. I Pompey am- + BEROWNE. You lie, you are not he. + COSTARD. I Pompey am- + BOYET. With libbard's head on knee. + BEROWNE. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee. + COSTARD. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the Big- + DUMAIN. The Great. + COSTARD. It is Great, sir. + Pompey surnam'd the Great, + That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to + sweat; + And travelling along this coast, I bere am come by chance, + And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France. + + If your ladyship would say 'Thanks, Pompey,' I had done. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Great thanks, great Pompey. + COSTARD. 'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect. + I made a little fault in Great. + BEROWNE. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy. + + Enter SIR NATHANIEL, for ALEXANDER + + NATHANIEL. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander; + By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might. + My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander- + BOYET. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands to right. + BEROWNE. Your nose smells 'no' in this, most tender-smelling + knight. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good + Alexander. + NATHANIEL. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander- + BOYET. Most true, 'tis right, you were so, Alisander. + BEROWNE. Pompey the Great! + COSTARD. Your servant, and Costard. + BEROWNE. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander. + COSTARD. [To Sir Nathaniel] O, Sir, you have overthrown Alisander + the conqueror! You will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for + this. Your lion, that holds his poleaxe sitting on a close-stool, + will be given to Ajax. He will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror + and afeard to speak! Run away for shame, Alisander. + [Sir Nathaniel retires] There, an't shall please you, a foolish + mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd. He is a + marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler; but for + Alisander- alas! you see how 'tis- a little o'erparted. But there + are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Stand aside, good Pompey. + + Enter HOLOFERNES, for JUDAS; and MOTH, for HERCULES + + HOLOFERNES. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, + Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus; + And when be was a babe, a child, a shrimp, + Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus. + Quoniam he seemeth in minority, + Ergo I come with this apology. + Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [MOTH retires] + Judas I am- + DUMAIN. A Judas! + HOLOFERNES. Not Iscariot, sir. + Judas I am, ycliped Maccabaeus. + DUMAIN. Judas Maccabaeus clipt is plain Judas. + BEROWNE. A kissing traitor. How art thou prov'd Judas? + HOLOFERNES. Judas I am- + DUMAIN. The more shame for you, Judas! + HOLOFERNES. What mean you, sir? + BOYET. To make Judas hang himself. + HOLOFERNES. Begin, sir; you are my elder. + BEROWNE. Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder. + HOLOFERNES. I will not be put out of countenance. + BEROWNE. Because thou hast no face. + HOLOFERNES. What is this? + BOYET. A cittern-head. + DUMAIN. The head of a bodkin. + BEROWNE. A death's face in a ring. + LONGAVILLE. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. + BOYET. The pommel of Coesar's falchion. + DUMAIN. The carv'd-bone face on a flask. + BEROWNE. Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch. + DUMAIN. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. + BEROWNE. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. And now, + forward; for we have put thee in countenance. + HOLOFERNES. You have put me out of countenance. + BEROWNE. False: we have given thee faces. + HOLOFERNES. But you have outfac'd them all. + BEROWNE. An thou wert a lion we would do so. + BOYET. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. + And so adieu, sweet Jude! Nay, why dost thou stay? + DUMAIN. For the latter end of his name. + BEROWNE. For the ass to the Jude; give it him- Jud-as, away. + HOLOFERNES. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. + BOYET. A light for Monsieur Judas! It grows dark, he may stumble. + [HOLOFERNES retires] + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited! + + Enter ARMADO, for HECTOR + + BEROWNE. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms. + DUMAIN. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry. + KING. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this. + BOYET. But is this Hector? + DUMAIN. I think Hector was not so clean-timber'd. + LONGAVILLE. His leg is too big for Hector's. + DUMAIN. More calf, certain. + BOYET. No; he is best indued in the small. + BEROWNE. This cannot be Hector. + DUMAIN. He's a god or a painter, for he makes faces. + ARMADO. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, + Gave Hector a gift- + DUMAIN. A gilt nutmeg. + BEROWNE. A lemon. + LONGAVILLE. Stuck with cloves. + DUMAIN. No, cloven. + ARMADO. Peace! + The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, + Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; + A man so breathed that certain he would fight ye, + From morn till night out of his pavilion. + I am that flower- + DUMAIN. That mint. + LONGAVILLE. That columbine. + ARMADO. Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. + LONGAVILLE. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against + Hector. + DUMAIN. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. + ARMADO. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat + not the bones of the buried; when he breathed, he was a man. But + I will forward with my device. [To the PRINCESS] Sweet royalty, + bestow on me the sense of hearing. + + [BEROWNE steps forth, and speaks to COSTARD] + + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted. + ARMADO. I do adore thy sweet Grace's slipper. + BOYET. [Aside to DUMAIN] Loves her by the foot. + DUMAIN. [Aside to BOYET] He may not by the yard. + ARMADO. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal- + COSTARD. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two + months on her way. + ARMADO. What meanest thou? + COSTARD. Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor wench + is cast away. She's quick; the child brags in her belly already; + 'tis yours. + ARMADO. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die. + COSTARD. Then shall Hector be whipt for Jaquenetta that is quick by + him, and hang'd for Pompey that is dead by him. + DUMAIN. Most rare Pompey! + BOYET. Renowned Pompey! + BEROWNE. Greater than Great! Great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the + Huge! + DUMAIN. Hector trembles. + BEROWNE. Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! Stir them on! stir + them on! + DUMAIN. Hector will challenge him. + BEROWNE. Ay, if 'a have no more man's blood in his belly than will + sup a flea. + ARMADO. By the North Pole, I do challenge thee. + COSTARD. I will not fight with a pole, like a Northern man; I'll + slash; I'll do it by the sword. I bepray you, let me borrow my + arms again. + DUMAIN. Room for the incensed Worthies! + COSTARD. I'll do it in my shirt. + DUMAIN. Most resolute Pompey! + MOTH. Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you not see + Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? You will lose + your reputation. + ARMADO. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my + shirt. + DUMAIN. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge. + ARMADO. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. + BEROWNE. What reason have you for 't? + ARMADO. The naked truth of it is: I have no shirt; I go woolward + for penance. + BOYET. True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen; + since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but a dishclout of + Jaquenetta's, and that 'a wears next his heart for a favour. + + Enter as messenger, MONSIEUR MARCADE + + MARCADE. God save you, madam! + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Welcome, Marcade; + But that thou interruptest our merriment. + MARCADE. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring + Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father- + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Dead, for my life! + MARCADE. Even so; my tale is told. + BEROWNE. WOrthies away; the scene begins to cloud. + ARMADO. For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have seen the + day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will + right myself like a soldier. Exeunt WORTHIES + KING. How fares your Majesty? + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. + KING. Madam, not so; I do beseech you stay. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords, + For all your fair endeavours, and entreat, + Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe + In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide + The liberal opposition of our spirits, + If over-boldly we have borne ourselves + In the converse of breath- your gentleness + Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord. + A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue. + Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks + For my great suit so easily obtain'd. + KING. The extreme parts of time extremely forms + All causes to the purpose of his speed; + And often at his very loose decides + That which long process could not arbitrate. + And though the mourning brow of progeny + Forbid the smiling courtesy of love + The holy suit which fain it would convince, + Yet, since love's argument was first on foot, + Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it + From what it purpos'd; since to wail friends lost + Is not by much so wholesome-profitable + As to rejoice at friends but newly found. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. I understand you not; my griefs are double. + BEROWNE. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; + And by these badges understand the King. + For your fair sakes have we neglected time, + Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies, + Hath much deformed us, fashioning our humours + Even to the opposed end of our intents; + And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous, + As love is full of unbefitting strains, + All wanton as a child, skipping and vain; + Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye, + Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms, + Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll + To every varied object in his glance; + Which parti-coated presence of loose love + Put on by us, if in your heavenly eyes + Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities, + Those heavenly eyes that look into these faults + Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies, + Our love being yours, the error that love makes + Is likewise yours. We to ourselves prove false, + By being once false for ever to be true + To those that make us both- fair ladies, you; + And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, + Thus purifies itself and turns to grace. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; + Your favours, the ambassadors of love; + And, in our maiden council, rated them + At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy, + As bombast and as lining to the time; + But more devout than this in our respects + Have we not been; and therefore met your loves + In their own fashion, like a merriment. + DUMAIN. Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest. + LONGAVILLE. So did our looks. + ROSALINE. We did not quote them so. + KING. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, + Grant us your loves. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. A time, methinks, too short + To make a world-without-end bargain in. + No, no, my lord, your Grace is perjur'd much, + Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this, + If for my love, as there is no such cause, + You will do aught- this shall you do for me: + Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed + To some forlorn and naked hermitage, + Remote from all the pleasures of the world; + There stay until the twelve celestial signs + Have brought about the annual reckoning. + If this austere insociable life + Change not your offer made in heat of blood, + If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds, + Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, + But that it bear this trial, and last love, + Then, at the expiration of the year, + Come, challenge me, challenge me by these deserts; + And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine, + I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut + My woeful self up in a mournful house, + Raining the tears of lamentation + For the remembrance of my father's death. + If this thou do deny, let our hands part, + Neither intitled in the other's heart. + KING. If this, or more than this, I would deny, + To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, + The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! + Hence hermit then, my heart is in thy breast. + BEROWNE. And what to me, my love? and what to me? + ROSALINE. You must he purged too, your sins are rack'd; + You are attaint with faults and perjury; + Therefore, if you my favour mean to get, + A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, + But seek the weary beds of people sick. + DUMAIN. But what to me, my love? but what to me? + A wife? + KATHARINE. A beard, fair health, and honesty; + With threefold love I wish you all these three. + DUMAIN. O, shall I say I thank you, gentle wife? + KATHARINE. No so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a day + I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say. + Come when the King doth to my lady come; + Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. + DUMAIN. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. + KATHARINE. Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again. + LONGAVILLE. What says Maria? + MARIA. At the twelvemonth's end + I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. + LONGAVILLE. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long. + MARIA. The liker you; few taller are so young. + BEROWNE. Studies my lady? Mistress, look on me; + Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, + What humble suit attends thy answer there. + Impose some service on me for thy love. + ROSALINE. Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Berowne, + Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue + Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, + Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, + Which you on all estates will execute + That lie within the mercy of your wit. + To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain, + And therewithal to win me, if you please, + Without the which I am not to be won, + You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day + Visit the speechless sick, and still converse + With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, + With all the fierce endeavour of your wit, + To enforce the pained impotent to smile. + BEROWNE. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? + It cannot be; it is impossible; + Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. + ROSALINE. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, + Whose influence is begot of that loose grace + Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools. + A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + Of him that hears it, never in the tongue + Of him that makes it; then, if sickly ears, + Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans, + Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, + And I will have you and that fault withal. + But if they will not, throw away that spirit, + And I shall find you empty of that fault, + Right joyful of your reformation. + BEROWNE. A twelvemonth? Well, befall what will befall, + I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. [ To the King] Ay, sweet my lord, and so I take + my leave. + KING. No, madam; we will bring you on your way. + BEROWNE. Our wooing doth not end like an old play: + Jack hath not Jill. These ladies' courtesy + Might well have made our sport a comedy. + KING. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth an' a day, + And then 'twill end. + BEROWNE. That's too long for a play. + + Re-enter ARMADO + + ARMADO. Sweet Majesty, vouchsafe me- + PRINCESS OF FRANCE. Was not that not Hector? + DUMAIN. The worthy knight of Troy. + ARMADO. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a + votary: I have vow'd to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her + sweet love three year. But, most esteemed greatness, will you + hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in + praise of the Owl and the Cuckoo? It should have followed in the + end of our show. + KING. Call them forth quickly; we will do so. + ARMADO. Holla! approach. + + Enter All + + This side is Hiems, Winter; this Ver, the Spring- the one + maintained by the Owl, th' other by the Cuckoo. Ver, begin. + + SPRING + When daisies pied and violets blue + And lady-smocks all silver-white + And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue + Do paint the meadows with delight, + The cuckoo then on every tree + Mocks married men, for thus sings he: + 'Cuckoo; + Cuckoo, cuckoo'- O word of fear, + Unpleasing to a married ear! + + When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, + And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks; + When turtles tread, and rooks and daws, + And maidens bleach their summer smocks; + The cuckoo then on every tree + Mocks married men, for thus sings he: + 'Cuckoo; + Cuckoo, cuckoo'- O word of fear, + Unpleasing to a married ear! + + + WINTER + + When icicles hang by the wall, + And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, + And Tom bears logs into the hall, + And milk comes frozen home in pail, + When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul, + Then nightly sings the staring owl: + 'Tu-who; + Tu-whit, Tu-who'- A merry note, + While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. + + When all aloud the wind doth blow, + And coughing drowns the parson's saw, + And birds sit brooding in the snow, + And Marian's nose looks red and raw, + When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, + Then nightly sings the staring owl: + 'Tu-who; + Tu-whit, To-who'- A merry note, + While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. + + ARMADO. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. + You that way: we this way. Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + + +1606 + +THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH + + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + DUNCAN, King of Scotland + MACBETH, Thane of Glamis and Cawdor, a general in the King's army + LADY MACBETH, his wife + MACDUFF, Thane of Fife, a nobleman of Scotland + LADY MACDUFF, his wife + MALCOLM, elder son of Duncan + DONALBAIN, younger son of Duncan + BANQUO, Thane of Lochaber, a general in the King's army + FLEANCE, his son + LENNOX, nobleman of Scotland + ROSS, nobleman of Scotland + MENTEITH nobleman of Scotland + ANGUS, nobleman of Scotland + CAITHNESS, nobleman of Scotland + SIWARD, Earl of Northumberland, general of the English forces + YOUNG SIWARD, his son + SEYTON, attendant to Macbeth + HECATE, Queen of the Witches + The Three Witches + Boy, Son of Macduff + Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth + An English Doctor + A Scottish Doctor + A Sergeant + A Porter + An Old Man + The Ghost of Banquo and other Apparitions + Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murtherers, Attendants, + and Messengers + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: Scotland and England + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +A desert place. Thunder and lightning. + +Enter three Witches. + + FIRST WITCH. When shall we three meet again? + In thunder, lightning, or in rain? + SECOND WITCH. When the hurlyburly's done, + When the battle's lost and won. + THIRD WITCH. That will be ere the set of sun. + FIRST WITCH. Where the place? + SECOND WITCH. Upon the heath. + THIRD WITCH. There to meet with Macbeth. + FIRST WITCH. I come, Graymalkin. + ALL. Paddock calls. Anon! + Fair is foul, and foul is fair. + Hover through the fog and filthy air. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +A camp near Forres. Alarum within. + +Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with Attendants, +meeting a bleeding Sergeant. + + DUNCAN. What bloody man is that? He can report, + As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt + The newest state. + MALCOLM. This is the sergeant + Who like a good and hardy soldier fought + 'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend! + Say to the King the knowledge of the broil + As thou didst leave it. + SERGEANT. Doubtful it stood, + As two spent swimmers that do cling together + And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald- + Worthy to be a rebel, for to that + The multiplying villainies of nature + Do swarm upon him -from the Western Isles + Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; + And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, + Show'd like a rebel's whore. But all's too weak; + For brave Macbeth -well he deserves that name- + Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd steel, + Which smoked with bloody execution, + Like Valor's minion carved out his passage + Till he faced the slave, + Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, + Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps, + And fix'd his head upon our battlements. + DUNCAN. O valiant cousin! Worthy gentleman! + SERGEANT. As whence the sun 'gins his reflection + Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, + So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come + Discomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark. + No sooner justice had, with valor arm'd, + Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels, + But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, + With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men, + Began a fresh assault. + DUNCAN. Dismay'd not this + Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo.? + SERGEANT. Yes, + As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. + If I say sooth, I must report they were + As cannons overcharged with double cracks, + So they + Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe. + Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, + Or memorize another Golgotha, + I cannot tell- + But I am faint; my gashes cry for help. + DUNCAN. So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; + They smack of honor both. Go get him surgeons. + Exit Sergeant, attended. + Who comes here? + + Enter Ross. + + MALCOLM The worthy Thane of Ross. + LENNOX. What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look + That seems to speak things strange. + ROSS. God save the King! + DUNCAN. Whence camest thou, worthy Thane? + ROSS. From Fife, great King, + Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky + And fan our people cold. + Norway himself, with terrible numbers, + Assisted by that most disloyal traitor + The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict, + Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof, + Confronted him with self-comparisons, + Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm, + Curbing his lavish spirit; and, to conclude, + The victory fell on us. + DUNCAN. Great happiness! + ROSS. That now + Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition; + Nor would we deign him burial of his men + Till he disbursed, at Saint Colme's Inch, + Ten thousand dollars to our general use. + DUNCAN. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive + Our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death, + And with his former title greet Macbeth. + ROSS. I'll see it done. + DUNCAN. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. + Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +A heath. Thunder. + +Enter the three Witches. + + FIRST WITCH. Where hast thou been, sister? + SECOND WITCH. Killing swine. + THIRD WITCH. Sister, where thou? + FIRST WITCH. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap, + And mounch'd, and mounch'd, and mounch'd. "Give me," quoth I. + "Aroint thee, witch!" the rump-fed ronyon cries. + Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master the Tiger; + But in a sieve I'll thither sail, + And, like a rat without a tail, + I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do. + SECOND WITCH. I'll give thee a wind. + FIRST WITCH. Thou'rt kind. + THIRD WITCH. And I another. + FIRST WITCH. I myself have all the other, + And the very ports they blow, + All the quarters that they know + I' the shipman's card. + I will drain him dry as hay: + Sleep shall neither night nor day + Hang upon his penthouse lid; + He shall live a man forbid. + Weary se'nnights nine times nine + Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine; + Though his bark cannot be lost, + Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd. + Look what I have. + SECOND WITCH. Show me, show me. + FIRST WITCH. Here I have a pilot's thumb, + Wreck'd as homeward he did come. Drum within. + THIRD WITCH. A drum, a drum! + Macbeth doth come. + ALL. The weird sisters, hand in hand, + Posters of the sea and land, + Thus do go about, about, + Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, + And thrice again, to make up nine. + Peace! The charm's wound up. + + Enter Macbeth and Banquo. + + MACBETH. So foul and fair a day I have not seen. + BANQUO. How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these + So wither'd and so wild in their attire, + That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, + And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught + That man may question? You seem to understand me, + By each at once her choppy finger laying + Upon her skinny lips. You should be women, + And yet your beards forbid me to interpret + That you are so. + MACBETH. Speak, if you can. What are you? + FIRST WITCH. All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! + SECOND WITCH. All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! + THIRD WITCH. All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter! + BANQUO. Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fear + Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth, + Are ye fantastical or that indeed + Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner + You greet with present grace and great prediction + Of noble having and of royal hope, + That he seems rapt withal. To me you speak not. + If you can look into the seeds of time, + And say which grain will grow and which will not, + Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear + Your favors nor your hate. + FIRST WITCH. Hail! + SECOND WITCH. Hail! + THIRD WITCH. Hail! + FIRST WITCH. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. + SECOND WITCH. Not so happy, yet much happier. + THIRD WITCH. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none. + So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! + FIRST WITCH. Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! + MACBETH. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more. + By Sinel's death I know I am Thane of Glamis; + But how of Cawdor? The Thane of Cawdor lives, + A prosperous gentleman; and to be King + Stands not within the prospect of belief, + No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence + You owe this strange intelligence, or why + Upon this blasted heath you stop our way + With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you. + Witches vanish. + BANQUO. The earth hath bubbles as the water has, + And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd? + MACBETH. Into the air, and what seem'd corporal melted + As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd! + BANQUO. Were such things here as we do speak about? + Or have we eaten on the insane root + That takes the reason prisoner? + MACBETH. Your children shall be kings. + BANQUO. You shall be King. + MACBETH. And Thane of Cawdor too. Went it not so? + BANQUO. To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here? + + Enter Ross and Angus. + + ROSS. The King hath happily received, Macbeth, + The news of thy success; and when he reads + Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight, + His wonders and his praises do contend + Which should be thine or his. Silenced with that, + In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day, + He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, + Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, + Strange images of death. As thick as hail + Came post with post, and every one did bear + Thy praises in his kingdom's great defense, + And pour'd them down before him. + ANGUS. We are sent + To give thee, from our royal master, thanks; + Only to herald thee into his sight, + Not pay thee. + ROSS. And for an earnest of a greater honor, + He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor. + In which addition, hail, most worthy Thane, + For it is thine. + BANQUO. What, can the devil speak true? + MACBETH. The Thane of Cawdor lives. Why do you dress me + In borrow'd robes? + ANGUS. Who was the Thane lives yet, + But under heavy judgement bears that life + Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined + With those of Norway, or did line the rebel + With hidden help and vantage, or that with both + He labor'd in his country's wreck, I know not; + But treasons capital, confess'd and proved, + Have overthrown him. + MACBETH. [Aside.] Glamis, and Thane of Cawdor! + The greatest is behind. [To Ross and Angus] Thanks for your + pains. + [Aside to Banquo] Do you not hope your children shall be kings, + When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me + Promised no less to them? + BANQUO. [Aside to Macbeth.] That, trusted home, + Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, + Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange; + And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, + The instruments of darkness tell us truths, + Win us with honest trifles, to betray's + In deepest consequence- + Cousins, a word, I pray you. + MACBETH. [Aside.] Two truths are told, + As happy prologues to the swelling act + Of the imperial theme-I thank you, gentlemen. + [Aside.] This supernatural soliciting + Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill, + Why hath it given me earnest of success, + Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. + If good, why do I yield to that suggestion + Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair + And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, + Against the use of nature? Present fears + Are less than horrible imaginings: + My thought, whose murther yet is but fantastical, + Shakes so my single state of man that function + Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is + But what is not. + BANQUO. Look, how our partner's rapt. + MACBETH. [Aside.] If chance will have me King, why, chance may + crown me + Without my stir. + BANQUO. New honors come upon him, + Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould + But with the aid of use. + MACBETH. [Aside.] Come what come may, + Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. + BANQUO. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. + MACBETH. Give me your favor; my dull brain was wrought + With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains + Are register'd where every day I turn + The leaf to read them. Let us toward the King. + Think upon what hath chanced, and at more time, + The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak + Our free hearts each to other. + BANQUO. Very gladly. + MACBETH. Till then, enough. Come, friends. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE IV. +Forres. The palace. + +Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, and Attendants. + + DUNCAN. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not + Those in commission yet return'd? + MALCOLM. My liege, + They are not yet come back. But I have spoke + With one that saw him die, who did report + That very frankly he confess'd his treasons, + Implored your Highness' pardon, and set forth + A deep repentance. Nothing in his life + Became him like the leaving it; he died + As one that had been studied in his death, + To throw away the dearest thing he owed + As 'twere a careless trifle. + DUNCAN. There's no art + To find the mind's construction in the face: + He was a gentleman on whom I built + An absolute trust. + + Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Ross, and Angus. + + O worthiest cousin! + The sin of my ingratitude even now + Was heavy on me. Thou art so far before, + That swiftest wing of recompense is slow + To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved, + That the proportion both of thanks and payment + Might have been mine! Only I have left to say, + More is thy due than more than all can pay. + MACBETH. The service and the loyalty lowe, + In doing it, pays itself. Your Highness' part + Is to receive our duties, and our duties + Are to your throne and state, children and servants, + Which do but what they should, by doing everything + Safe toward your love and honor. + DUNCAN. Welcome hither. + I have begun to plant thee, and will labor + To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, + That hast no less deserved, nor must be known + No less to have done so; let me infold thee + And hold thee to my heart. + BANQUO. There if I grow, + The harvest is your own. + DUNCAN. My plenteous joys, + Wanton in fullness, seek to hide themselves + In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, + And you whose places are the nearest, know + We will establish our estate upon + Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter + The Prince of Cumberland; which honor must + Not unaccompanied invest him only, + But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine + On all deservers. From hence to Inverness, + And bind us further to you. + MACBETH. The rest is labor, which is not used for you. + I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful + The hearing of my wife with your approach; + So humbly take my leave. + DUNCAN. My worthy Cawdor! + MACBETH. [Aside.] The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step + On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, + For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; + Let not light see my black and deep desires. + The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be + Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. Exit. + DUNCAN. True, worthy Banquo! He is full so valiant, + And in his commendations I am fed; + It is a banquet to me. Let's after him, + Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome. + It is a peerless kinsman. Flourish. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE V. +Inverness. Macbeth's castle. + +Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter. + + LADY MACBETH. "They met me in the day of success, and I have + learned by the perfectest report they have more in them than + mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them + further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. + Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the + King, who all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor'; by which title, + before, these weird sisters saluted me and referred me to the + coming on of time with 'Hail, King that shalt be!' This have I + thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, + that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being + ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, + and farewell." + + Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be + What thou art promised. Yet do I fear thy nature. + It is too full o' the milk of human kindness + To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great; + Art not without ambition, but without + The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly, + That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, + And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou'ldst have, great Glamis, + That which cries, "Thus thou must do, if thou have it; + And that which rather thou dost fear to do + Than wishest should be undone." Hie thee hither, + That I may pour my spirits in thine ear, + And chastise with the valor of my tongue + All that impedes thee from the golden round, + Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem + To have thee crown'd withal. + + Enter a Messenger. + + What is your tidings? + MESSENGER. The King comes here tonight. + LADY MACBETH. Thou'rt mad to say it! + Is not thy master with him? who, were't so, + Would have inform'd for preparation. + MESSENGER. So please you, it is true; our Thane is coming. + One of my fellows had the speed of him, + Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more + Than would make up his message. + LADY MACBETH. Give him tending; + He brings great news. Exit Messenger. + The raven himself is hoarse + That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan + Under my battlements. Come, you spirits + That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here + And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full + Of direst cruelty! Make thick my blood, + Stop up the access and passage to remorse, + That no compunctious visitings of nature + Shake my fell purpose nor keep peace between + The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, + And take my milk for gall, your murthering ministers, + Wherever in your sightless substances + You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, + And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell + That my keen knife see not the wound it makes + Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark + To cry, "Hold, hold!" + + Enter Macbeth. + + Great Glamis! Worthy Cawdor! + Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! + Thy letters have transported me beyond + This ignorant present, and I feel now + The future in the instant. + MACBETH. My dearest love, + Duncan comes here tonight. + LADY MACBETH. And when goes hence? + MACBETH. Tomorrow, as he purposes. + LADY MACBETH. O, never + Shall sun that morrow see! + Your face, my Thane, is as a book where men + May read strange matters. To beguile the time, + Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, + Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower, + But be the serpent under it. He that's coming + Must be provided for; and you shall put + This night's great business into my dispatch, + Which shall to all our nights and days to come + Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. + MACBETH. We will speak further. + LADY MACBETH. Only look up clear; + To alter favor ever is to fear. + Leave all the rest to me. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE VI. +Before Macbeth's castle. Hautboys and torches. + +Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, Angus, +and Attendants. + + DUNCAN. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air + Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself + Unto our gentle senses. + BANQUO. This guest of summer, + The temple-haunting martlet, does approve + By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath + Smells wooingly here. No jutty, frieze, + Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird + Hath made his pendant bed and procreant cradle; + Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed + The air is delicate. + + Enter Lady Macbeth. + + DUNCAN. See, see, our honor'd hostess! + The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, + Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you + How you shall bid God 'ield us for your pains, + And thank us for your trouble. + LADY MACBETH. All our service + In every point twice done, and then done double, + Were poor and single business to contend + Against those honors deep and broad wherewith + Your Majesty loads our house. For those of old, + And the late dignities heap'd up to them, + We rest your hermits. + DUNCAN. Where's the Thane of Cawdor? + We coursed him at the heels and had a purpose + To be his purveyor; but he rides well, + And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him + To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, + We are your guest tonight. + LADY MACBETH. Your servants ever + Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt, + To make their audit at your Highness' pleasure, + Still to return your own. + DUNCAN. Give me your hand; + Conduct me to mine host. We love him highly, + And shall continue our graces towards him. + By your leave, hostess. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE VII +Macbeth's castle. Hautboys and torches. + +Enter a Sewer and divers Servants with dishes and service, who pass over +the stage. Then enter Macbeth. + + MACBETH. If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well + It were done quickly. If the assassination + Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, + With his surcease, success; that but this blow + Might be the be-all and the end-all -here, + But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, + We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases + We still have judgement here, that we but teach + Bloody instructions, which being taught return + To plague the inventor. This even-handed justice + Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice + To our own lips. He's here in double trust: + First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, + Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, + Who should against his murtherer shut the door, + Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan + Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been + So clear in his great office, that his virtues + Will plead like angels trumpet-tongued against + The deep damnation of his taking-off, + And pity, like a naked new-born babe + Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin horsed + Upon the sightless couriers of the air, + Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, + That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur + To prick the sides of my intent, but only + Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself + And falls on the other. + + Enter Lady Macbeth. + + How now, what news? + LADY MACBETH. He has almost supp'd. Why have you left the chamber? + MACBETH. Hath he ask'd for me? + LADY MACBETH. Know you not he has? + MACBETH. We will proceed no further in this business: + He hath honor'd me of late, and I have bought + Golden opinions from all sorts of people, + Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, + Not cast aside so soon. + LADY MACBETH. Was the hope drunk + Wherein you dress'd yourself? Hath it slept since? + And wakes it now, to look so green and pale + At what it did so freely? From this time + Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard + To be the same in thine own act and valor + As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that + Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life + And live a coward in thine own esteem, + Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would" + Like the poor cat i' the adage? + MACBETH. Prithee, peace! + I dare do all that may become a man; + Who dares do more is none. + LADY MACBETH. What beast wast then + That made you break this enterprise to me? + When you durst do it, then you were a man, + And, to be more than what you were, you would + Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place + Did then adhere, and yet you would make both. + They have made themselves, and that their fitness now + Does unmake you. I have given suck and know + How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me- + I would, while it was smiling in my face, + Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums + And dash'd the brains out had I so sworn as you + Have done to this. + MACBETH. If we should fail? + LADY MACBETH. We fail? + But screw your courage to the sticking-place + And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep- + Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey + Soundly invite him- his two chamberlains + Will I with wine and wassail so convince + That memory, the warder of the brain, + Shall be a fume and the receipt of reason + A limbeck only. When in swinish sleep + Their drenched natures lie as in a death, + What cannot you and I perform upon + The unguarded Duncan? What not put upon + His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt + Of our great quell? + MACBETH. Bring forth men-children only, + For thy undaunted mettle should compose + Nothing but males. Will it not be received, + When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two + Of his own chamber and used their very daggers, + That they have done't? + LADY MACBETH. Who dares receive it other, + As we shall make our griefs and clamor roar + Upon his death? + MACBETH. I am settled and bend up + Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. + Away, and mock the time with fairest show: + False face must hide what the false heart doth know. + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +Inverness. Court of Macbeth's castle. + +Enter Banquo and Fleance, bearing a torch before him. + + BANQUO. How goes the night, boy? + FLEANCE. The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. + BANQUO. And she goes down at twelve. + FLEANCE. I take't 'tis later, sir. + BANQUO. Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven, + Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. + A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, + And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers, + Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature + Gives way to in repose! + + Enter Macbeth and a Servant with a torch. + + Give me my sword. + Who's there? + MACBETH. A friend. + BANQUO. What, sir, not yet at rest? The King's abed. + He hath been in unusual pleasure and + Sent forth great largess to your offices. + This diamond he greets your wife withal, + By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up + In measureless content. + MACBETH. Being unprepared, + Our will became the servant to defect, + Which else should free have wrought. + BANQUO. All's well. + I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: + To you they have show'd some truth. + MACBETH. I think not of them; + Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, + We would spend it in some words upon that business, + If you would grant the time. + BANQUO. At your kind'st leisure. + MACBETH. If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis, + It shall make honor for you. + BANQUO. So I lose none + In seeking to augment it, but still keep + My bosom franchised and allegiance clear, + I shall be counsel'd. + MACBETH. Good repose the while. + BANQUO. Thanks, sir, the like to you. + Exeunt Banquo. and Fleance. + MACBETH. Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, + She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. Exit Servant. + Is this a dagger which I see before me, + The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. + I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. + Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible + To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but + A dagger of the mind, a false creation, + Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? + I see thee yet, in form as palpable + As this which now I draw. + Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going, + And such an instrument I was to use. + Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, + Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still, + And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, + Which was not so before. There's no such thing: + It is the bloody business which informs + Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world + Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse + The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates + Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd Murther, + Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, + Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, + With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design + Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, + Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear + Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, + And take the present horror from the time, + Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives; + Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. + A bell rings. + I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. + Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell + That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. Exit. + + + + +SCENE II. +The same. + +Enter Lady Macbeth. + + LADY MACBETH. That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; + What hath quench'd them hath given me fire. Hark! Peace! + It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, + Which gives the stern'st good night. He is about it: + The doors are open, and the surfeited grooms + Do mock their charge with snores. I have drugg'd their possets + That death and nature do contend about them, + Whether they live or die. + MACBETH. [Within.] Who's there' what, ho! + LADY MACBETH. Alack, I am afraid they have awaked + And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed + Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready; + He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled + My father as he slept, I had done't. + + Enter Macbeth, + + My husband! + MACBETH. I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise? + LADY MACBETH. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. + Did not you speak? + MACBETH. When? + LADY MACBETH. Now. + MACBETH. As I descended? + LADY MACBETH. Ay. + MACBETH. Hark! + Who lies i' the second chamber? + LADY MACBETH. Donalbain. + MACBETH. This is a sorry sight. [Looks on his hands. + LADY MACBETH. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. + MACBETH. There's one did laugh in 's sleep, and one cried, + "Murther!" + That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them, + But they did say their prayers and address'd them + Again to sleep. + LADY MACBETH. There are two lodged together. + MACBETH. One cried, "God bless us!" and "Amen" the other, + As they had seen me with these hangman's hands. + Listening their fear, I could not say "Amen," + When they did say, "God bless us!" + LADY MACBETH. Consider it not so deeply. + MACBETH. But wherefore could not I pronounce "Amen"? + I had most need of blessing, and "Amen" + Stuck in my throat. + LADY MACBETH. These deeds must not be thought + After these ways; so, it will make us mad. + MACBETH. I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! + Macbeth does murther sleep" -the innocent sleep, + Sleep that knits up the ravel'd sleave of care, + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, + Chief nourisher in life's feast- + LADY MACBETH. What do you mean? + MACBETH. Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to all the house; + "Glamis hath murther'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor + Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more." + LADY MACBETH. Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy Thane, + You do unbend your noble strength, to think + So brainsickly of things. Go, get some water + And wash this filthy witness from your hand. + Why did you bring these daggers from the place? + They must lie there. Go carry them, and smear + The sleepy grooms with blood. + MACBETH. I'll go no more. + I am afraid to think what I have done; + Look on't again I dare not. + LADY MACBETH. Infirm of purpose! + Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead + Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood + That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, + I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, + For it must seem their guilt. Exit. Knocking within. + MACBETH. Whence is that knocking? + How is't with me, when every noise appals me? + What hands are here? Ha, they pluck out mine eyes! + Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood + Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather + The multitudinous seas incarnadine, + Making the green one red. + + Re-enter Lady Macbeth. + + LADY MACBETH. My hands are of your color, but I shame + To wear a heart so white. [Knocking within.] I hear knocking + At the south entry. Retire we to our chamber. + A little water clears us of this deed. + How easy is it then! Your constancy + Hath left you unattended. [Knocking within.] Hark, more knocking. + Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us + And show us to be watchers. Be not lost + So poorly in your thoughts. + MACBETH. To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself. + Knocking within. + Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst! + Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +The same. + +Enter a Porter. Knocking within. + + PORTER. Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of Hell + Gate, he should have old turning the key. [Knocking within.] + Knock, knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of Belzebub? Here's + a farmer that hanged himself on th' expectation of plenty. Come + in time! Have napkins enow about you; here you'll sweat fort. + [Knocking within.] Knock, knock! Who's there, in th' other + devil's name? Faith, here's an equivocator that could swear in + both the scales against either scale, who committed treason + enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven. O, + come in, equivocator. [Knocking within.] Knock, knock, knock! + Who's there? Faith, here's an English tailor come hither, for + stealing out of a French hose. Come in, tailor; here you may + roast your goose. [Knocking within.] Knock, knock! Never at + quiet! What are you? But this place is too cold for hell. I'll + devil-porter it no further. I had thought to have let in some of + all professions, that go the primrose way to the everlasting + bonfire. [Knocking within.] Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the + porter. + Opens the gate. + + Enter Macduff and Lennox. + + MACDUFF. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, + That you do lie so late? + PORTER. Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock; and + drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things. + MACDUFF. What three things does drink especially provoke? + PORTER. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, + it provokes and unprovokes: it provokes the desire, but it takes + away the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an + equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets + him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him and disheartens + him; makes him stand to and not stand to; in conclusion, + equivocates him in a sleep, and giving him the lie, leaves him. + MACDUFF. I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. + PORTER. That it did, sir, i' the very throat on me; but requited + him for his lie, and, I think, being too strong for him, though + he took up my legs sometime, yet I made shift to cast him. + MACDUFF. Is thy master stirring? + + Enter Macbeth. + + Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes. + LENNOX. Good morrow, noble sir. + MACBETH. morrow, both. + MACDUFF. Is the King stirring, worthy Thane? + MACBETH. Not yet. + MACDUFF. He did command me to call timely on him; + I have almost slipp'd the hour. + MACBETH. I'll bring you to him. + MACDUFF. I know this is a joyful trouble to you, + But yet 'tis one. + MACBETH. The labor we delight in physics pain. + This is the door. + MACDUFF I'll make so bold to call, + For 'tis my limited service. Exit. + LENNOX. Goes the King hence today? + MACBETH. He does; he did appoint so. + LENNOX. The night has been unruly. Where we lay, + Our chimneys were blown down, and, as they say, + Lamentings heard i' the air, strange screams of death, + And prophesying with accents terrible + Of dire combustion and confused events + New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird + Clamor'd the livelong night. Some say the earth + Was feverous and did shake. + MACBETH. 'Twas a rough fight. + LENNOX. My young remembrance cannot parallel + A fellow to it. + + Re-enter Macduff. + + MACDUFF. O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart + Cannot conceive nor name thee. + MACBETH. LENNOX. What's the matter? + MACDUFF. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece. + Most sacrilegious murther hath broke ope + The Lord's anointed temple and stole thence + The life o' the building. + MACBETH. What is't you say? the life? + LENNOX. Mean you his Majesty? + MACDUFF. Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight + With a new Gorgon. Do not bid me speak; + See, and then speak yourselves. + Exeunt Macbeth and Lennox. + Awake, awake! + Ring the alarum bell. Murther and treason! + Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm, awake! + Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, + And look on death itself! Up, up, and see + The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo! + As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites + To countenance this horror! Ring the bell. Bell rings. + + Enter Lady Macbeth. + + LADY MACBETH. What's the business, + That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley + The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak! + MACDUFF. O gentle lady, + 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: + The repetition in a woman's ear + Would murther as it fell. + + Enter Banquo. + + O Banquo, Banquo! + Our royal master's murther'd. + LADY MACBETH. Woe, alas! + What, in our house? + BANQUO. Too cruel anywhere. + Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself, + And say it is not so. + + Re-enter Macbeth and Lennox, with Ross. + + MACBETH. Had I but died an hour before this chance, + I had lived a blessed time, for from this instant + There's nothing serious in mortality. + All is but toys; renown and grace is dead, + The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees + Is left this vault to brag of. + + Enter Malcolm and Donalbain. + + DONALBAIN. What is amiss? + MACBETH. You are, and do not know't. + The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood + Is stopped, the very source of it is stopp'd. + MACDUFF. Your royal father's murther'd. + MALCOLM. O, by whom? + LENNOX. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't. + Their hands and faces were all badged with blood; + So were their daggers, which unwiped we found + Upon their pillows. + They stared, and were distracted; no man's life + Was to be trusted with them. + MACBETH. O, yet I do repent me of my fury, + That I did kill them. + MACDUFF. Wherefore did you so? + MACBETH. Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, + Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man. + The expedition of my violent love + Outrun the pauser reason. Here lay Duncan, + His silver skin laced with his golden blood, + And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature + For ruin's wasteful entrance; there, the murtherers, + Steep'd in the colors of their trade, their daggers + Unmannerly breech'd with gore. Who could refrain, + That had a heart to love, and in that heart + Courage to make 's love known? + LADY MACBETH. Help me hence, ho! + MACDUFF. Look to the lady. + MALCOLM. [Aside to Donalbain.] Why do we hold our tongues, + That most may claim this argument for ours? + DONALBAIN. [Aside to Malcolm.] What should be spoken here, where + our fate, + Hid in an auger hole, may rush and seize us? + Let's away, + Our tears are not yet brew'd. + MALCOLM. [Aside to Donalbain.] Nor our strong sorrow + Upon the foot of motion. + BANQUO. Look to the lady. + Lady Macbeth is carried out. + And when we have our naked frailties hid, + That suffer in exposure, let us meet + And question this most bloody piece of work + To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us. + In the great hand of God I stand, and thence + Against the undivulged pretense I fight + Of treasonous malice. + MACDUFF. And so do I. + ALL. So all. + MACBETH. Let's briefly put on manly readiness + And meet i' the hall together. + ALL. Well contented. + Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain. + MALCOLM. What will you do? Let's not consort with them. + To show an unfelt sorrow is an office + Which the false man does easy. I'll to England. + DONALBAIN. To Ireland, I; our separated fortune + Shall keep us both the safer. Where we are + There's daggers in men's smiles; the near in blood, + The nearer bloody. + MALCOLM. This murtherous shaft that's shot + Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way + Is to avoid the aim. Therefore to horse; + And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, + But shift away. There's warrant in that theft + Which steals itself when there's no mercy left. + Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE IV. +Outside Macbeth's castle. + +Enter Ross with an Old Man. + + OLD MAN. Threescore and ten I can remember well, + Within the volume of which time I have seen + Hours dreadful and things strange, but this sore night + Hath trifled former knowings. + ROSS. Ah, good father, + Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man's act, + Threaten his bloody stage. By the clock 'tis day, + And yet dark night strangles the traveling lamp. + Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame, + That darkness does the face of earth entomb, + When living light should kiss it? + OLD MAN. 'Tis unnatural, + Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last + A falcon towering in her pride of place + Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd. + ROSS. And Duncan's horses-a thing most strange and certain- + Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, + Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, + Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make + War with mankind. + OLD MAN. 'Tis said they eat each other. + ROSS. They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes + That look'd upon't. + + Enter Macduff. + + Here comes the good Macduff. + How goes the world, sir, now? + MACDUFF. Why, see you not? + ROSS. Is't known who did this more than bloody deed? + MACDUFF. Those that Macbeth hath slain. + ROSS. Alas, the day! + What good could they pretend? + MACDUFF. They were suborn'd: + Malcolm and Donalbain, the King's two sons, + Are stol'n away and fled, which puts upon them + Suspicion of the deed. + ROSS. 'Gainst nature still! + Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up + Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like + The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. + MACDUFF. He is already named, and gone to Scone + To be invested. + ROSS. Where is Duncan's body? + MACDUFF. Carried to Colmekill, + The sacred storehouse of his predecessors + And guardian of their bones. + ROSS. Will you to Scone? + MACDUFF. No, cousin, I'll to Fife. + ROSS. Well, I will thither. + MACDUFF. Well, may you see things well done there. + Adieu, + Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! + ROSS. Farewell, father. + OLD MAN. God's benison go with you and with those + That would make good of bad and friends of foes! + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Forres. The palace. + +Enter Banquo. + + BANQUO. Thou hast it now: King, Cawdor, Glamis, all, + As the weird women promised, and I fear + Thou play'dst most foully for't; yet it was said + It should not stand in thy posterity, + But that myself should be the root and father + Of many kings. If there come truth from them + (As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine) + Why, by the verities on thee made good, + May they not be my oracles as well + And set me up in hope? But hush, no more. + + Sennet sounds. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth + as Queen, Lennox, Ross, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants. + + MACBETH. Here's our chief guest. + LADY MACBETH. If he had been forgotten, + It had been as a gap in our great feast + And all thing unbecoming. + MACBETH. Tonight we hold a solemn supper, sir, + And I'll request your presence. + BANQUO. Let your Highness + Command upon me, to the which my duties + Are with a most indissoluble tie + Forever knit. + MACBETH. Ride you this afternoon? + BANQUO. Ay, my good lord. + MACBETH. We should have else desired your good advice, + Which still hath been both grave and prosperous + In this day's council; but we'll take tomorrow. + Is't far you ride'! + BANQUO. As far, my lord, as will fill up the time + 'Twixt this and supper. Go not my horse the better, + I must become a borrower of the night + For a dark hour or twain. + MACBETH. Fail not our feast. + BANQUO. My lord, I will not. + MACBETH. We hear our bloody cousins are bestow'd + In England and in Ireland, not confessing + Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers + With strange invention. But of that tomorrow, + When therewithal we shall have cause of state + Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse; adieu, + Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? + BANQUO. Ay, my good lord. Our time does call upon 's. + MACBETH. I wish your horses swift and sure of foot, + And so I do commend you to their backs. + Farewell. Exit Banquo. + Let every man be master of his time + Till seven at night; to make society + The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself + Till supper time alone. While then, God be with you! + Exeunt all but Macbeth and an Attendant. + Sirrah, a word with you. Attend those men + Our pleasure? + ATTENDANT. They are, my lord, without the palace gate. + MACBETH. Bring them before us. Exit Attendant. + To be thus is nothing, + But to be safely thus. Our fears in Banquo. + Stick deep, and in his royalty of nature + Reigns that which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares, + And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, + He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valor + To act in safety. There is none but he + Whose being I do fear; and under him + My genius is rebuked, as it is said + Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters + When first they put the name of King upon me + And bade them speak to him; then prophet-like + They hail'd him father to a line of kings. + Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown + And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, + Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand, + No son of mine succeeding. If't be so, + For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind, + For them the gracious Duncan have I murther'd, + Put rancors in the vessel of my peace + Only for them, and mine eternal jewel + Given to the common enemy of man, + To make them kings -the seed of Banquo kings! + Rather than so, come, Fate, into the list, + And champion me to the utterance! Who's there? + + Re-enter Attendant, with two Murtherers. + + Now go to the door, and stay there till we call. + Exit Attendant. + Was it not yesterday we spoke together? + FIRST MURTHERER. It was, so please your Highness. + MACBETH. Well then, now + Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know + That it was he in the times past which held you + So under fortune, which you thought had been + Our innocent self? This I made good to you + In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you: + How you were borne in hand, how cross'd, the instruments, + Who wrought with them, and all things else that might + To half a soul and to a notion crazed + Say, "Thus did Banquo." + FIRST MURTHERER. You made it known to us. + MACBETH. I did so, and went further, which is now + Our point of second meeting. Do you find + Your patience so predominant in your nature, + That you can let this go? Are you so gospel'd, + To pray for this good man and for his issue, + Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave + And beggar'd yours forever? + FIRST MURTHERER. We are men, my liege. + MACBETH. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men, + As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, + Shoughs, waterrugs, and demi-wolves are clept + All by the name of dogs. The valued file + Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, + The housekeeper, the hunter, every one + According to the gift which bounteous nature + Hath in him closed, whereby he does receive + Particular addition, from the bill + That writes them all alike; and so of men. + Now if you have a station in the file, + Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say it, + And I will put that business in your bosoms + Whose execution takes your enemy off, + Grapples you to the heart and love of us, + Who wear our health but sickly in his life, + Which in his death were perfect. + SECOND MURTHERER. I am one, my liege, + Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world + Have so incensed that I am reckless what + I do to spite the world. + FIRST MURTHERER. And I another + So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, + That I would set my life on any chance, + To mend it or be rid on't. + MACBETH. Both of you + Know Banquo was your enemy. + BOTH MURTHERERS. True, my lord. + MACBETH. So is he mine, and in such bloody distance + That every minute of his being thrusts + Against my near'st of life; and though I could + With barefaced power sweep him from my sight + And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, + For certain friends that are both his and mine, + Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall + Who I myself struck down. And thence it is + That I to your assistance do make love, + Masking the business from the common eye + For sundry weighty reasons. + SECOND MURTHERER. We shall, my lord, + Perform what you command us. + FIRST MURTHERER. Though our lives- + MACBETH. Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most + I will advise you where to plant yourselves, + Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time, + The moment on't; fort must be done tonight + And something from the palace (always thought + That I require a clearness); and with him- + To leave no rubs nor botches in the work- + Fleance his son, that keeps him company, + Whose absence is no less material to me + Than is his father's, must embrace the fate + Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart; + I'll come to you anon. + BOTH MURTHERERS. We are resolved, my lord. + MACBETH. I'll call upon you straight. Abide within. + Exeunt Murtherers. + It is concluded: Banquo, thy soul's flight, + If it find heaven, must find it out tonight. Exit. + + + + +SCENE II. +The palace. + +Enter Lady Macbeth and a Servant. + + LADY MACBETH. Is Banquo gone from court? + SERVANT. Ay, madam, but returns again tonight. + LADY MACBETH. Say to the King I would attend his leisure + For a few words. + SERVANT. Madam, I will. Exit. + LADY MACBETH. Nought's had, all's spent, + Where our desire is got without content. + 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy + Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. + + Enter Macbeth. + + How now, my lord? Why do you keep alone, + Of sorriest fancies your companions making, + Using those thoughts which should indeed have died + With them they think on? Things without all remedy + Should be without regard. What's done is done. + MACBETH. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it. + She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice + Remains in danger of her former tooth. + But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, + Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep + In the affliction of these terrible dreams + That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, + Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, + Than on the torture of the mind to lie + In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; + After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. + Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison, + Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, + Can touch him further. + LADY MACBETH. Come on, + Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; + Be bright and jovial among your guests tonight. + MACBETH. So shall I, love, and so, I pray, be you. + Let your remembrance apply to Banquo; + Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: + Unsafe the while, that we + Must lave our honors in these flattering streams, + And make our faces vizards to our hearts, + Disguising what they are. + LADY MACBETH. You must leave this. + MACBETH. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! + Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance lives. + LADY MACBETH. But in them nature's copy's not eterne. + MACBETH. There's comfort yet; they are assailable. + Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown + His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons + The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums + Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done + A deed of dreadful note. + LADY MACBETH. What's to be done? + MACBETH. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, + Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, + Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, + And with thy bloody and invisible hand + Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond + Which keeps me pale! Light thickens, and the crow + Makes wing to the rooky wood; + Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, + Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse. + Thou marvel'st at my words, but hold thee still: + Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill. + So, prithee, go with me. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +A park near the palace. + +Enter three Murtherers. + + FIRST MURTHERER. But who did bid thee join with us? + THIRD MURTHERER. Macbeth. + SECOND MURTHERER. He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers + Our offices and what we have to do + To the direction just. + FIRST MURTHERER. Then stand with us. + The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day; + Now spurs the lated traveler apace + To gain the timely inn, and near approaches + The subject of our watch. + THIRD MURTHERER. Hark! I hear horses. + BANQUO. [Within.] Give us a light there, ho! + SECOND MURTHERER. Then 'tis he; the rest + That are within the note of expectation + Already are i' the court. + FIRST MURTHERER. His horses go about. + THIRD MURTHERER. Almost a mile, but he does usually- + So all men do -from hence to the palace gate + Make it their walk. + SECOND MURTHERER. A light, a light! + + Enter Banquo, and Fleance with a torch. + + THIRD MURTHERER. 'Tis he. + FIRST MURTHERER. Stand to't. + BANQUO. It will be rain tonight. + FIRST MURTHERER. Let it come down. + They set upon Banquo. + BANQUO. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! + Thou mayst revenge. O slave! Dies. Fleance escapes. + THIRD MURTHERER. Who did strike out the light? + FIRST MURTHERER. Wast not the way? + THIRD MURTHERER. There's but one down; the son is fled. + SECOND MURTHERER. We have lost + Best half of our affair. + FIRST MURTHERER. Well, let's away and say how much is done. + Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE IV. +A Hall in the palace. A banquet prepared. + +Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Ross, Lennox, Lords, and Attendants. + + MACBETH. You know your own degrees; sit down. At first + And last the hearty welcome. + LORDS. Thanks to your Majesty. + MACBETH. Ourself will mingle with society + And play the humble host. + Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time + We will require her welcome. + LADY MACBETH. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends, + For my heart speaks they are welcome. + + Enter first Murtherer to the door. + + MACBETH. See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks. + Both sides are even; here I'll sit i' the midst. + Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure + The table round. [Approaches the door.] There's blood upon thy + face. + MURTHERER. 'Tis Banquo's then. + MACBETH. 'Tis better thee without than he within. + Is he dispatch'd? + MURTHERER. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him. + MACBETH. Thou art the best o' the cut-throats! Yet he's good + That did the like for Fleance. If thou didst it, + Thou art the nonpareil. + MURTHERER. Most royal sir, + Fleance is 'scaped. + MACBETH. [Aside.] Then comes my fit again. I had else been perfect, + Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, + As broad and general as the casing air; + But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in + To saucy doubts and fears -But Banquo's safe? + MURTHERER. Ay, my good lord. Safe in a ditch he bides, + With twenty trenched gashes on his head, + The least a death to nature. + MACBETH. Thanks for that. + There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled + Hath nature that in time will venom breed, + No teeth for the present. Get thee gone. Tomorrow + We'll hear ourselves again. + Exit Murtherer. + LADY MACBETH. My royal lord, + You do not give the cheer. The feast is sold + That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis amaking, + 'Tis given with welcome. To feed were best at home; + From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony; + Meeting were bare without it. + MACBETH. Sweet remembrancer! + Now good digestion wait on appetite, + And health on both! + LENNOX. May't please your Highness sit. + + The Ghost of Banquo enters and sits in Macbeth's place. + + MACBETH. Here had we now our country's honor roof'd, + Were the graced person of our Banquo present, + Who may I rather challenge for unkindness + Than pity for mischance! + ROSS. His absence, sir, + Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your Highness + To grace us with your royal company? + MACBETH. The table's full. + LENNOX. Here is a place reserved, sir. + MACBETH. Where? + LENNOX. Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your Highness? + MACBETH. Which of you have done this? + LORDS. What, my good lord? + MACBETH. Thou canst not say I did it; never shake + Thy gory locks at me. + ROSS. Gentlemen, rise; his Highness is well. + LADY MACBETH. Sit, worthy friends; my lord is often thus, + And hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep seat. + The fit is momentary; upon a thought + He will again be well. If much you note him, + You shall offend him and extend his passion. + Feed, and regard him not-Are you a man? + MACBETH. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that + Which might appal the devil. + LADY MACBETH. O proper stuff! + This is the very painting of your fear; + This is the air-drawn dagger which you said + Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts, + Impostors to true fear, would well become + A woman's story at a winter's fire, + Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! + Why do you make such faces? When all's done, + You look but on a stool. + MACBETH. Prithee, see there! Behold! Look! Lo! How say you? + Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. + If charnel houses and our graves must send + Those that we bury back, our monuments + Shall be the maws of kites. Exit Ghost. + LADY MACBETH. What, quite unmann'd in folly? + MACBETH. If I stand here, I saw him. + LADY MACBETH. Fie, for shame! + MACBETH. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, + Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; + Ay, and since too, murthers have been perform'd + Too terrible for the ear. The time has been, + That, when the brains were out, the man would die, + And there an end; but now they rise again, + With twenty mortal murthers on their crowns, + And push us from our stools. This is more strange + Than such a murther is. + LADY MACBETH. My worthy lord, + Your noble friends do lack you. + MACBETH. I do forget. + Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends. + I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing + To those that know me. Come, love and health to all; + Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine, fill full. + I drink to the general joy o' the whole table, + And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss. + Would he were here! To all and him we thirst, + And all to all. + LORDS. Our duties and the pledge. + + Re-enter Ghost. + + MACBETH. Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee! + Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; + Thou hast no speculation in those eyes + Which thou dost glare with. + LADY MACBETH. Think of this, good peers, + But as a thing of custom. 'Tis no other, + Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. + MACBETH. What man dare, I dare. + Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, + The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; + Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves + Shall never tremble. Or be alive again, + And dare me to the desert with thy sword. + If trembling I inhabit then, protest me + The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! + Unreal mockery, hence! Exit Ghost. + Why, so, being gone, + I am a man again. Pray you sit still. + LADY MACBETH. You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting, + With most admired disorder. + MACBETH. Can such things be, + And overcome us like a summer's cloud, + Without our special wonder? You make me strange + Even to the disposition that I owe + When now I think you can behold such sights + And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks + When mine is blanch'd with fear. + ROSS. What sights, my lord? + LADY MACBETH. I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse; + Question enrages him. At once, good night. + Stand not upon the order of your going, + But go at once. + LENNOX. Good night, and better health + Attend his Majesty! + LADY MACBETH. A kind good night to all! + Exeunt all but Macbeth and Lady Macbeth. + MACBETH. will have blood; they say blood will have blood. + Stones have been known to move and trees to speak; + Augures and understood relations have + By maggot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth + The secret'st man of blood. What is the night? + LADY MACBETH. Almost at odds with morning, which is which. + MACBETH. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person + At our great bidding? + LADY MACBETH. Did you send to him, sir? + MACBETH. I hear it by the way, but I will send. + There's not a one of them but in his house + I keep a servant feed. I will tomorrow, + And betimes I will, to the weird sisters. + More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know, + By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good + All causes shall give way. I am in blood + Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, + Returning were as tedious as go o'er. + Strange things I have in head that will to hand, + Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd. + LADY MACBETH. You lack the season of all natures, sleep. + MACBETH. Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse + Is the initiate fear that wants hard use. + We are yet but young in deed. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE V. +A heath. Thunder. + +Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecate. + + FIRST WITCH. Why, how now, Hecate? You look angerly. + HECATE. Have I not reason, beldams as you are, + Saucy and overbold? How did you dare + To trade and traffic with Macbeth + In riddles and affairs of death, + And I, the mistress of your charms, + The close contriver of all harms, + Was never call'd to bear my part, + Or show the glory of our art? + And, which is worse, all you have done + Hath been but for a wayward son, + Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, + Loves for his own ends, not for you. + But make amends now. Get you gone, + And at the pit of Acheron + Meet me i' the morning. Thither he + Will come to know his destiny. + Your vessels and your spells provide, + Your charms and everything beside. + I am for the air; this night I'll spend + Unto a dismal and a fatal end. + Great business must be wrought ere noon: + Upon the corner of the moon + There hangs a vaporous drop profound; + I'll catch it ere it come to ground. + And that distill'd by magic sleights + Shall raise such artificial sprites + As by the strength of their illusion + Shall draw him on to his confusion. + He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear + His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear. + And you all know security + Is mortals' chiefest enemy. + Music and a song within, + "Come away, come away." + Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see, + Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me. Exit. + FIRST WITCH. Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again. + Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE VI. +Forres. The palace. + +Enter Lennox and another Lord. + + LENNOX. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, + Which can interpret farther; only I say + Thing's have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan + Was pitied of Macbeth; marry, he was dead. + And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late, + Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd, + For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late. + Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous + It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain + To kill their gracious father? Damned fact! + How it did grieve Macbeth! Did he not straight, + In pious rage, the two delinquents tear + That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? + Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too, + For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive + To hear the men deny't. So that, I say, + He has borne all things well; and I do think + That, had he Duncan's sons under his key- + As, an't please heaven, he shall not -they should find + What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. + But, peace! For from broad words, and 'cause he fail'd + His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear, + Macduff lives in disgrace. Sir, can you tell + Where he bestows himself? + LORD. The son of Duncan, + From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth, + Lives in the English court and is received + Of the most pious Edward with such grace + That the malevolence of fortune nothing + Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduff + Is gone to pray the holy King, upon his aid + To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward; + That by the help of these, with Him above + To ratify the work, we may again + Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights, + Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, + Do faithful homage, and receive free honors- + All which we pine for now. And this report + Hath so exasperate the King that he + Prepares for some attempt of war. + LENNOX. Sent he to Macduff? + LORD. He did, and with an absolute "Sir, not I," + The cloudy messenger turns me his back, + And hums, as who should say, "You'll rue the time + That clogs me with this answer." + LENNOX. And that well might + Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance + His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel + Fly to the court of England and unfold + His message ere he come, that a swift blessing + May soon return to this our suffering country + Under a hand accursed! + LORD. I'll send my prayers with him. + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron. Thunder. + +Enter the three Witches. + FIRST WITCH. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. + SECOND WITCH. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. + THIRD WITCH. Harpier cries, "'Tis time, 'tis time." + FIRST WITCH. Round about the cauldron go; + In the poison'd entrails throw. + Toad, that under cold stone + Days and nights has thirty-one + Swelter'd venom sleeping got, + Boil thou first i' the charmed pot. + ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble; + Fire burn and cauldron bubble. + SECOND WITCH. Fillet of a fenny snake, + In the cauldron boil and bake; + Eye of newt and toe of frog, + Wool of bat and tongue of dog, + Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, + Lizard's leg and howlet's wing, + For a charm of powerful trouble, + Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. + ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble; + Fire burn and cauldron bubble. + THIRD WITCH. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, + Witch's mummy, maw and gulf + Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark, + Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark, + Liver of blaspheming Jew, + Gall of goat and slips of yew + Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse, + Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips, + Finger of birth-strangled babe + Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, + Make the gruel thick and slab. + Add thereto a tiger's chawdron, + For the ingredients of our cawdron. + ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble; + Fire burn and cauldron bubble. + SECOND WITCH. Cool it with a baboon's blood, + Then the charm is firm and good. + + Enter Hecate to the other three Witches. + + HECATE. O, well done! I commend your pains, + And everyone shall share i' the gains. + And now about the cauldron sing, + Like elves and fairies in a ring, + Enchanting all that you put in. + Music and a song, "Black spirits." + Hecate retires. + SECOND WITCH. By the pricking of my thumbs, + Something wicked this way comes. + Open, locks, + Whoever knocks! + + Enter Macbeth. + + MACBETH. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? + What is't you do? + ALL. A deed without a name. + MACBETH. I conjure you, by that which you profess + (Howeer you come to know it) answer me: + Though you untie the winds and let them fight + Against the churches, though the yesty waves + Confound and swallow navigation up, + Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down, + Though castles topple on their warders' heads, + Though palaces and pyramids do slope + Their heads to their foundations, though the treasure + Of nature's germaines tumble all together + Even till destruction sicken, answer me + To what I ask you. + FIRST WITCH. Speak. + SECOND WITCH. Demand. + THIRD WITCH. We'll answer. + FIRST WITCH. Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths, + Or from our masters'? + MACBETH. Call 'em, let me see 'em. + FIRST WITCH. Pour in sow's blood that hath eaten + Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten + From the murtherer's gibbet throw + Into the flame. + ALL. Come, high or low; + Thyself and office deftly show! + + Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head. + + MACBETH. Tell me, thou unknown power- + FIRST WITCH. He knows thy thought: + Hear his speech, but say thou nought. + FIRST APPARITION. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff, + Beware the Thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough. + Descends. + MACBETH. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks; + Thou hast harp'd my fear aright. But one word more- + FIRST WITCH. He will not be commanded. Here's another, + More potent than the first. + + Thunder. Second Apparition: a bloody Child. + + SECOND APPARITION. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! + MACBETH. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee. + SECOND APPARITION. Be bloody, bold, and resolute: laugh to scorn + The power of man, for none of woman born + Shall harm Macbeth. Descends. + MACBETH. Then live, Macduff. What need I fear of thee? + But yet I'll make assurance double sure, + And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live, + That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, + And sleep in spite of thunder. + + Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, + with a tree in his hand. + + What is this, + That rises like the issue of a king, + And wears upon his baby brow the round + And top of sovereignty? + ALL. Listen, but speak not to't. + THIRD APPARITION. Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care + Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are. + Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until + Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill + Shall come against him. Descends. + MACBETH. That will never be. + Who can impress the forest, bid the tree + Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements, good! + Rebellion's head, rise never till the Wood + Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth + Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath + To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart + Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art + Can tell so much, shall Banquo's issue ever + Reign in this kingdom? + ALL. Seek to know no more. + MACBETH. I will be satisfied! Deny me this, + And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know. + Why sinks that cauldron, and what noise is this? + Hautboys. + FIRST WITCH. Show! + SECOND WITCH. Show! + THIRD. WITCH. Show! + ALL. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; + Come like shadows, so depart! + + A show of eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand; + Banquo's Ghost following. + + MACBETH. Thou are too like the spirit of Banquo Down! + Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. And thy hair, + Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. + A third is like the former. Filthy hags! + Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes! + What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom? + Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more! + And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass + Which shows me many more; and some I see + That twofold balls and treble sceptres carry. + Horrible sight! Now I see 'tis true; + For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me, + And points at them for his. What, is this so? + FIRST WITCH. Ay, sir, all this is so. But why + Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? + Come,sisters, cheer we up his sprites, + And show the best of our delights. + I'll charm the air to give a sound, + While you perform your antic round, + That this great King may kindly say + Our duties did his welcome pay. + Music. The Witches dance and + then vanish with Hecate. + MACBETH. are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour + Stand ay accursed in the calendar! + Come in, without there! + + Enter Lennox. + + LENNOX. What's your Grace's will? + MACBETH. Saw you the weird sisters? + LENNOX. No, my lord. + MACBETH. Came they not by you? + LENNOX. No indeed, my lord. + MACBETH. Infected be the 'air whereon they ride, + And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear + The galloping of horse. Who wast came by? + LENNOX. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word + Macduff is fled to England. + MACBETH. Fled to England? + LENNOX. Ay, my good lord. + MACBETH. [Aside.] Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits. + The flighty purpose never is o'ertook + Unless the deed go with it. From this moment + The very firstlings of my heart shall be + The firstlings of my hand. And even now, + To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: + The castle of Macduff I will surprise, + Seize upon Fife, give to the edge o' the sword + His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls + That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; + This deed I'll do before this purpose cool. + But no more sights! -Where are these gentlemen? + Come, bring me where they are. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +Fife. Macduff's castle. + +Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Ross. + + LADY MACDUFF. What had he done, to make him fly the land? + ROSS. You must have patience, madam. + LADY MACDUFF. He had none; + His flight was madness. When our actions do not, + Our fears do make us traitors. + ROSS. You know not + Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. + LADY MACDUFF. Wisdom? To leave his wife, to leave his babes, + His mansion, and his titles, in a place + From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; + He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren, + The most diminutive of birds, will fight, + Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. + All is the fear and nothing is the love; + As little is the wisdom, where the flight + So runs against all reason. + ROSS. My dearest coz, + I pray you, school yourself. But for your husband, + He is noble, wise, Judicious, and best knows + The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further; + But cruel are the times when we are traitors + And do not know ourselves; when we hold rumor + From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, + But float upon a wild and violent sea + Each way and move. I take my leave of you; + Shall not be long but I'll be here again. + Things at the worst will cease or else climb upward + To what they were before. My pretty cousin, + Blessing upon you! + LADY MACDUFF. Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. + ROSS. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, + It would be my disgrace and your discomfort. + I take my leave at once. Exit. + LADY MACDUFF. Sirrah, your father's dead. + And what will you do now? How will you live? + SON. As birds do, Mother. + LADY MACDUFF. What, with worms and flies? + SON. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. + LADY MACDUFF. Poor bird! Thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime, + The pitfall nor the gin. + SON. Why should I, Mother? Poor birds they are not set for. + My father is not dead, for all your saying. + LADY MACDUFF. Yes, he is dead. How wilt thou do for father? + SON. Nay, how will you do for a husband? + LADY MACDUFF. Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. + SON. Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. + LADY MACDUFF. Thou speak'st with all thy wit, and yet, i' faith, + With wit enough for thee. + SON. Was my father a traitor, Mother? + LADY MACDUFF. Ay, that he was. + SON. What is a traitor? + LADY MACDUFF. Why one that swears and lies. + SON. And be all traitors that do so? + LADY MACDUFF. Everyone that does so is a traitor and must be + hanged. + SON. And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? + LADY MACDUFF. Everyone. + SON. Who must hang them? + LADY MACDUFF. Why, the honest men. + SON. Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and + swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them. + LADY MACDUFF. Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do + for a father? + SON. If he were dead, you'ld weep for him; if you would not, it + were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father. + LADY MACDUFF. Poor prattler, how thou talk'st! + + Enter a Messenger. + + MESSENGER. Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, + Though in your state of honor I am perfect. + I doubt some danger does approach you nearly. + If you will take a homely man's advice, + Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. + To fright you thus, methinks I am too savage; + To do worse to you were fell cruelty, + Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you! + I dare abide no longer. Exit. + LADY MACDUFF. Whither should I fly? + I have done no harm. But I remember now + I am in this earthly world, where to do harm + Is often laudable, to do good sometime + Accounted dangerous folly. Why then, alas, + Do I put up that womanly defense, + To say I have done no harm -What are these faces? + + Enter Murtherers. + + FIRST MURTHERER. Where is your husband? + LADY MACDUFF. I hope, in no place so unsanctified + Where such as thou mayst find him. + FIRST MURTHERER. He's a traitor. + SON. Thou liest, thou shag-ear'd villain! + FIRST MURTHERER. What, you egg! + Stabs him. + Young fry of treachery! + SON. He has kill'd me, Mother. + Run away, I pray you! Dies. + Exit Lady Macduff, crying "Murther!" + Exeunt Murtherers, following her. + + + + +SCENE III. +England. Before the King's palace. + +Enter Malcolm and Macduff. + + MALCOLM. Let us seek out some desolate shade and there + Weep our sad bosoms empty. + MACDUFF. Let us rather + Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men + Bestride our downfall'n birthdom. Each new morn + New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows + Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds + As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out + Like syllable of dolor. + MALCOLM. What I believe, I'll wall; + What know, believe; and what I can redress, + As I shall find the time to friend, I will. + What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. + This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, + Was once thought honest. You have loved him well; + He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young, but something + You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom + To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb + To appease an angry god. + MACDUFF. I am not treacherous. + MALCOLM. But Macbeth is. + A good and virtuous nature may recoil + In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon; + That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose. + Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. + Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, + Yet grace must still look so. + MACDUFF. I have lost my hopes. + MALCOLM. Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. + Why in that rawness left you wife and child, + Those precious motives, those strong knots of love, + Without leave-taking? I pray you, + Let not my jealousies be your dishonors, + But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just, + Whatever I shall think. + MACDUFF. Bleed, bleed, poor country! + Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, + For goodness dare not check thee. Wear thou thy wrongs; + The title is affeer'd. Fare thee well, lord. + I would not be the villain that thou think'st + For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp + And the rich East to boot. + MALCOLM. Be not offended; + I speak not as in absolute fear of you. + I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; + It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash + Is added to her wounds. I think withal + There would be hands uplifted in my right; + And here from gracious England have I offer + Of goodly thousands. But for all this, + When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head, + Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country + Shall have more vices than it had before, + More suffer and more sundry ways than ever, + By him that shall succeed. + MACDUFF. What should he be? + MALCOLM. It is myself I mean, in whom I know + All the particulars of vice so grafted + That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth + Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state + Esteem him as a lamb, being compared + With my confineless harms. + MACDUFF. Not in the legions + Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd + In evils to top Macbeth. + MALCOLM. I grant him bloody, + Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, + Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin + That has a name. But there's no bottom, none, + In my voluptuousness. Your wives, your daughters, + Your matrons, and your maids could not fill up + The cestern of my lust, and my desire + All continent impediments would o'erbear + That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth + Than such an one to reign. + MACDUFF. Boundless intemperance + In nature is a tyranny; it hath been + The untimely emptying of the happy throne, + And fall of many kings. But fear not yet + To take upon you what is yours. You may + Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty + And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink. + We have willing dames enough; there cannot be + That vulture in you to devour so many + As will to greatness dedicate themselves, + Finding it so inclined. + MALCOLM. With this there grows + In my most ill-composed affection such + A stanchless avarice that, were I King, + I should cut off the nobles for their lands, + Desire his jewels and this other's house, + And my more-having would be as a sauce + To make me hunger more, that I should forge + Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, + Destroying them for wealth. + MACDUFF. This avarice + Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root + Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been + The sword of our slain kings. Yet do not fear; + Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will + Of your mere own. All these are portable, + With other graces weigh'd. + MALCOLM. But I have none. The king-becoming graces, + As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, + Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, + Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, + I have no relish of them, but abound + In the division of each several crime, + Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should + Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, + Uproar the universal peace, confound + All unity on earth. + MACDUFF. O Scotland, Scotland! + MALCOLM. If such a one be fit to govern, speak. + I am as I have spoken. + MACDUFF. Fit to govern? + No, not to live. O nation miserable! + With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd, + When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, + Since that the truest issue of thy throne + By his own interdiction stands accursed + And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father + Was a most sainted king; the queen that bore thee, + Oftener upon her knees than on her feet, + Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! + These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself + Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast, + Thy hope ends here! + MALCOLM. Macduff, this noble passion, + Child of integrity, hath from my soul + Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts + To thy good truth and honor. Devilish Macbeth + By many of these trains hath sought to win me + Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me + From over-credulous haste. But God above + Deal between thee and me! For even now + I put myself to thy direction and + Unspeak mine own detraction; here abjure + The taints and blames I laid upon myself, + For strangers to my nature. I am yet + Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, + Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, + At no time broke my faith, would not betray + The devil to his fellow, and delight + No less in truth than life. My first false speaking + Was this upon myself. What I am truly + Is thine and my poor country's to command. + Whither indeed, before thy here-approach, + Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men + Already at a point, was setting forth. + Now we'll together, and the chance of goodness + Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent? + MACDUFF. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once + 'Tis hard to reconcile. + + Enter a Doctor. + + MALCOLM. Well, more anon. Comes the King forth, I pray you? + DOCTOR. Ay, sir, there are a crew of wretched souls + That stay his cure. Their malady convinces + The great assay of art, but at his touch, + Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, + They presently amend. + MALCOLM. I thank you, Doctor. Exit Doctor. + MACDUFF. What's the disease he means? + MALCOLM. 'Tis call'd the evil: + A most miraculous work in this good King, + Which often, since my here-remain in England, + I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, + Himself best knows; but strangely-visited people, + All swol'n and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, + The mere despair of surgery, he cures, + Hanging a golden stamp about their necks + Put on with holy prayers; and 'tis spoken, + To the succeeding royalty he leaves + The healing benediction. With this strange virtue + He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy, + And sundry blessings hang about his throne + That speak him full of grace. + + Enter Ross. + + MACDUFF. See, who comes here? + MALCOLM. My countryman, but yet I know him not. + MACDUFF. My ever gentle cousin, welcome hither. + MALCOLM. I know him now. Good God, betimes remove + The means that makes us strangers! + ROSS. Sir, amen. + MACDUFF. Stands Scotland where it did? + ROSS. Alas, poor country, + Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot + Be call'd our mother, but our grave. Where nothing, + But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; + Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air, + Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems + A modern ecstasy. The dead man's knell + Is there scarce ask'd for who, and good men's lives + Expire before the flowers in their caps, + Dying or ere they sicken. + MACDUFF. O, relation + Too nice, and yet too true! + MALCOLM. What's the newest grief? + ROSS. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker; + Each minute teems a new one. + MACDUFF. How does my wife? + ROSS. Why, well. + MACDUFF. And all my children? + ROSS. Well too. + MACDUFF. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? + ROSS. No, they were well at peace when I did leave 'em. + MACDUFF. Be not a niggard of your speech. How goest? + ROSS. When I came hither to transport the tidings, + Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumor + Of many worthy fellows that were out, + Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, + For that I saw the tyrant's power afoot. + Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland + Would create soldiers, make our women fight, + To doff their dire distresses. + MALCOLM. Be't their comfort + We are coming thither. Gracious England hath + Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men; + An older and a better soldier none + That Christendom gives out. + ROSS. Would I could answer + This comfort with the like! But I have words + That would be howl'd out in the desert air, + Where hearing should not latch them. + MACDUFF. What concern they? + The general cause? Or is it a fee-grief + Due to some single breast? + ROSS. No mind that's honest + But in it shares some woe, though the main part + Pertains to you alone. + MACDUFF. If it be mine, + Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. + ROSS. Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, + Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound + That ever yet they heard. + MACDUFF. Humh! I guess at it. + ROSS. Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes + Savagely slaughter'd. To relate the manner + Were, on the quarry of these murther'd deer, + To add the death of you. + MALCOLM. Merciful heaven! + What, man! Neer pull your hat upon your brows; + Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak + Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break. + MACDUFF. My children too? + ROSS. Wife, children, servants, all + That could be found. + MACDUFF. And I must be from thence! + My wife kill'd too? + ROSS. I have said. + MALCOLM. Be comforted. + Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, + To cure this deadly grief. + MACDUFF. He has no children. All my pretty ones? + Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? + What, all my pretty chickens and their dam + At one fell swoop? + MALCOLM. Dispute it like a man. + MACDUFF. I shall do so, + But I must also feel it as a man. + I cannot but remember such things were + That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, + And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, + They were all struck for thee! Naught that I am, + Not for their own demerits, but for mine, + Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now! + MALCOLM. Be this the whetstone of your sword. Let grief + Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. + MACDUFF. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes + And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens, + Cut short all intermission; front to front + Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; + Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, + Heaven forgive him too! + MALCOLM. This tune goes manly. + Come, go we to the King; our power is ready, + Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth + Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above + Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may, + The night is long that never finds the day. Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Dunsinane. Anteroom in the castle. + +Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting Gentlewoman. + + DOCTOR. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no + truth in your report. When was it she last walked? + GENTLEWOMAN. Since his Majesty went into the field, have seen her + rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her + closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, + afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while + in a most fast sleep. + DOCTOR. A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the + benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching! In this slumbery + agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, + what, at any time, have you heard her say? + GENTLEWOMAN. That, sir, which I will not report after her. + DOCTOR. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should. + GENTLEWOMAN. Neither to you nor anyone, having no witness to + confirm my speech. + + Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper. + + Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise, and, upon my + life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. + DOCTOR. How came she by that light? + GENTLEWOMAN. Why, it stood by her. She has light by her + continually; 'tis her command. + DOCTOR. You see, her eyes are open. + GENTLEWOMAN. Ay, but their sense is shut. + DOCTOR. What is it she does now? Look how she rubs her hands. + GENTLEWOMAN. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus + washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of + an hour. + LADY MACBETH. Yet here's a spot. + DOCTOR. Hark, she speaks! I will set down what comes from her, to + satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. + LADY MACBETH. Out, damned spot! Out, I say! One- two -why then 'tis + time to do't. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie! A soldier, and + afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our + power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have + had so much blood in him? + DOCTOR. Do you mark that? + LADY MACBETH. The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? What, + will these hands neer be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more + o' that. You mar all with this starting. + DOCTOR. Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. + GENTLEWOMAN. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that. + Heaven knows what she has known. + LADY MACBETH. Here's the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes + of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! + DOCTOR. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. + GENTLEWOMAN. I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the + dignity of the whole body. + DOCTOR. Well, well, well- + GENTLEWOMAN. Pray God it be, sir. + DOCTOR. This disease is beyond my practice. Yet I have known those + which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their + beds. + LADY MACBETH. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown, look not so + pale. I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out + on's grave. + DOCTOR. Even so? + LADY MACBETH. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. Come, + come, come, come, give me your hand.What's done cannot be undone. + To bed, to bed, to bed. +Exit. + DOCTOR. Will she go now to bed? + GENTLEWOMAN. Directly. + DOCTOR. Foul whisperings are abroad. Unnatural deeds + Do breed unnatural troubles; infected minds + To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. + More needs she the divine than the physician. + God, God, forgive us all! Look after her; + Remove from her the means of all annoyance, + And still keep eyes upon her. So good night. + My mind she has mated and amazed my sight. + I think, but dare not speak. + GENTLEWOMAN. Good night, good doctor. + Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +The country near Dunsinane. Drum and colors. + +Enter Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, and Soldiers. + + MENTEITH. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, + His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff. + Revenges burn in them, for their dear causes + Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm + Excite the mortified man. + ANGUS. Near Birnam Wood + Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. + CAITHNESS. Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother? + LENNOX. For certain, sir, he is not; I have a file + Of all the gentry. There is Seward's son + And many unrough youths that even now + Protest their first of manhood. + MENTEITH. What does the tyrant? + CAITHNESS. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies. + Some say he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, + Do call it valiant fury; but, for certain, + He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause + Within the belt of rule. + ANGUS. Now does he feel + His secret murthers sticking on his hands, + Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; + Those he commands move only in command, + Nothing in love. Now does he feel his title + Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe + Upon a dwarfish thief. + MENTEITH. Who then shall blame + His pester'd senses to recoil and start, + When all that is within him does condemn + Itself for being there? + CAITHNESS. Well, march we on + To give obedience where 'tis truly owed. + Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal, + And with him pour we, in our country's purge, + Each drop of us. + LENNOX. Or so much as it needs + To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. + Make we our march towards Birnam. Exeunt marching. + + + + +SCENE III. +Dunsinane. A room in the castle. + +Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants. + + MACBETH. Bring me no more reports; let them fly all! + Till Birnam Wood remove to Dunsinane + I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? + Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know + All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus: + "Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman + Shall e'er have power upon thee." Then fly, false Thanes, + And mingle with the English epicures! + The mind I sway by and the heart I bear + Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. + + Enter a Servant. + + The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! + Where got'st thou that goose look? + SERVANT. There is ten thousand- + MACBETH. Geese, villain? + SERVANT. Soldiers, sir. + MACBETH. Go prick thy face and over-red thy fear, + Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch? + Death of thy soul! Those linen cheeks of thine + Are counselors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? + SERVANT. The English force, so please you. + MACBETH. Take thy face hence. Exit Servant. + Seyton-I am sick at heart, + When I behold- Seyton, I say!- This push + Will cheer me ever or disseat me now. + I have lived long enough. My way of life + Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf, + And that which should accompany old age, + As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, + I must not look to have; but in their stead, + Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath, + Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not. + Seyton! + + Enter Seyton. + + SEYTON. What's your gracious pleasure? + MACBETH. What news more? + SEYTON. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported. + MACBETH. I'll fight, 'til from my bones my flesh be hack'd. + Give me my armor. + SEYTON. 'Tis not needed yet. + MACBETH. I'll put it on. + Send out more horses, skirr the country round, + Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armor. + How does your patient, doctor? + DOCTOR. Not so sick, my lord, + As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, + That keep her from her rest. + MACBETH. Cure her of that. + Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, + Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, + Raze out the written troubles of the brain, + And with some sweet oblivious antidote + Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff + Which weighs upon the heart? + DOCTOR. Therein the patient + Must minister to himself. + MACBETH. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it. + Come, put mine armor on; give me my staff. + Seyton, send out. Doctor, the Thanes fly from me. + Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast + The water of my land, find her disease + And purge it to a sound and pristine health, + I would applaud thee to the very echo, + That should applaud again. Pull't off, I say. + What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug + Would scour these English hence? Hearst thou of them? + DOCTOR. Ay, my good lord, your royal preparation + Makes us hear something. + MACBETH. Bring it after me. + I will not be afraid of death and bane + Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane. + DOCTOR. [Aside.] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, + Profit again should hardly draw me here. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE IV. +Country near Birnam Wood. Drum and colors. + +Enter Malcolm, old Seward and his Son, Macduff, Menteith, Caithness, +Angus, Lennox, Ross, and Soldiers, marching. + + MALCOLM. Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand + That chambers will be safe. + MENTEITH. We doubt it nothing. + SIWARD. What wood is this before us? + MENTEITH. The Wood of Birnam. + MALCOLM. Let every soldier hew him down a bough, + And bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow + The numbers of our host, and make discovery + Err in report of us. + SOLDIERS. It shall be done. + SIWARD. We learn no other but the confident tyrant + Keeps still in Dunsinane and will endure + Our setting down before't. + MALCOLM. 'Tis his main hope; + For where there is advantage to be given, + Both more and less have given him the revolt, + And none serve with him but constrained things + Whose hearts are absent too. + MACDUFF. Let our just censures + Attend the true event, and put we on + Industrious soldiership. + SIWARD. The time approaches + That will with due decision make us know + What we shall say we have and what we owe. + Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, + But certain issue strokes must arbitrate. + Towards which advance the war. + Exeunt Marching. + + + + +SCENE V. +Dunsinane. Within the castle. + +Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and Soldiers, with drum and colors. + + MACBETH. Hang out our banners on the outward walls; + The cry is still, "They come!" Our castle's strength + Will laugh a siege to scorn. Here let them lie + Till famine and the ague eat them up. + Were they not forced with those that should be ours, + We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, + And beat them backward home. + A cry of women within. + What is that noise? + SEYTON. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Exit. + MACBETH. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: + The time has been, my senses would have cool'd + To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair + Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir + As life were in't. I have supp'd full with horrors; + Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, + Cannot once start me. + + Re-enter Seyton. + Wherefore was that cry? + SEYTON. The Queen, my lord, is dead. + MACBETH. She should have died hereafter; + There would have been a time for such a word. + Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow + Creeps in this petty pace from day to day + To the last syllable of recorded time; + And all our yesterdays have lighted fools + The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! + Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player + That struts and frets his hour upon the stage + And then is heard no more. It is a tale + Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, + Signifying nothing. + + Enter a Messenger. + + Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. + MESSENGER. Gracious my lord, + I should report that which I say I saw, + But know not how to do it. + MACBETH. Well, say, sir. + MESSENGER. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, + I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, + The Wood began to move. + MACBETH. Liar and slave! + MESSENGER. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so. + Within this three mile may you see it coming; + I say, a moving grove. + MACBETH. If thou speak'st false, + Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, + Till famine cling thee; if thy speech be sooth, + I care not if thou dost for me as much. + I pull in resolution and begin + To doubt the equivocation of the fiend + That lies like truth. "Fear not, till Birnam Wood + Do come to Dunsinane," and now a wood + Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out! + If this which he avouches does appear, + There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. + I 'gin to be aweary of the sun + And wish the estate o' the world were now undone. + Ring the alarum bell! Blow, wind! Come, wrack! + At least we'll die with harness on our back. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE VI. +Dunsinane. Before the castle. + +Enter Malcolm, old Siward, Macduff, and their Army, with boughs. +Drum and colors. + + MALCOLM. Now near enough; your leavy screens throw down, + And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle, + Shall with my cousin, your right noble son, + Lead our first battle. Worthy Macduff and we + Shall take upon 's what else remains to do, + According to our order. + SIWARD. Fare you well. + Do we but find the tyrant's power tonight, + Let us be beaten if we cannot fight. + MACDUFF. Make all our trumpets speak, give them all breath, + Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. + Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE VII. +Dunsinane. Before the castle. Alarums. + +Enter Macbeth. + + MACBETH. They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, + But bear-like I must fight the course. What's he + That was not born of woman? Such a one + Am I to fear, or none. + + Enter young Siward. + + YOUNG SIWARD. What is thy name? + MACBETH. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. + YOUNG SIWARD. No, though thou call'st thyself a hotter name + Than any is in hell. + MACBETH. My name's Macbeth. + YOUNG SIWARD. The devil himself could not pronounce a title + More hateful to mine ear. + MACBETH. No, nor more fearful. + YOUNG SIWARD O Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword + I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. + They fight, and young Seward is slain. + MACBETH. Thou wast born of woman. + But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, + Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. Exit. + + Alarums. Enter Macduff. + + MACDUFF. That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! + If thou best slain and with no stroke of mine, + My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still. + I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms + Are hired to bear their staves. Either thou, Macbeth, + Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge, + I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; + By this great clatter, one of greatest note + Seems bruited. Let me find him, Fortune! + And more I beg not. Exit. Alarums. + + Enter Malcolm and old Siward. + + SIWARD. This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd. + The tyrant's people on both sides do fight, + The noble Thanes do bravely in the war, + The day almost itself professes yours, + And little is to do. + MALCOLM. We have met with foes + That strike beside us. + SIWARD. Enter, sir, the castle. + Exeunt. Alarum. + + + + +SCENE VIII. +Another part of the field. + +Enter Macbeth. + + MACBETH. Why should I play the Roman fool and die + On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes + Do better upon them. + + Enter Macduff. + + MACDUFF. Turn, hell hound, turn! + MACBETH. Of all men else I have avoided thee. + But get thee back, my soul is too much charged + With blood of thine already. + MACDUFF. I have no words. + My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain + Than terms can give thee out! They fight. + MACBETH. Thou losest labor. + As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air + With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed. + Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; + I bear a charmed life, which must not yield + To one of woman born. + MACDUFF. Despair thy charm, + And let the angel whom thou still hast served + Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb + Untimely ripp'd. + MACBETH. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, + For it hath cow'd my better part of man! + And be these juggling fiends no more believed + That patter with us in a double sense, + That keep the word of promise to our ear + And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. + MACDUFF. Then yield thee, coward, + And live to be the show and gaze o' the time. + We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, + Painted upon a pole, and underwrit, + "Here may you see the tyrant." + MACBETH. I will not yield, + To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, + And to be baited with the rabble's curse. + Though Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane, + And thou opposed, being of no woman born, + Yet I will try the last. Before my body + I throw my warlike shield! Lay on, Macduff, + And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" + Exeunt fighting. Alarums. + + + + +SCENE IX. + +Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colors, Malcolm, old Siward, Ross, +the other Thanes, and Soldiers. + + MALCOLM. I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. + SIWARD. Some must go off, and yet, by these I see, + So great a day as this is cheaply bought. + MALCOLM. Macduff is missing, and your noble son. + ROSS. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt. + He only lived but till he was a man, + The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd + In the unshrinking station where he fought, + But like a man he died. + SIWARD. Then he is dead? + ROSS. Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow + Must not be measured by his worth, for then + It hath no end. + SIWARD. Had he his hurts before? + ROSS. Ay, on the front. + SIWARD. Why then, God's soldier be he! + Had I as many sons as I have hairs, + I would not wish them to a fairer death. + And so his knell is knoll'd. + MALCOLM. He's worth more sorrow, + And that I'll spend for him. + SIWARD. He's worth no more: + They say he parted well and paid his score, + And so God be with him! Here comes newer comfort. + + Re-enter Macduff, with Macbeth's head. + + MACDUFF. Hail, King, for so thou art. Behold where stands + The usurper's cursed head. The time is free. + I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl + That speak my salutation in their minds, + Whose voices I desire aloud with mine- + Hail, King of Scotland! + ALL. Hail, King of Scotland! Flourish. + MALCOLM. We shall not spend a large expense of time + Before we reckon with your several loves + And make us even with you. My Thanes and kinsmen, + Henceforth be Earls, the first that ever Scotland + In such an honor named. What's more to do, + Which would be planted newly with the time, + As calling home our exiled friends abroad + That fled the snares of watchful tyranny, + Producing forth the cruel ministers + Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen, + Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands + Took off her life; this, and what needful else + That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace + We will perform in measure, time, and place. + So thanks to all at once and to each one, + Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. + Flourish. Exeunt. + -THE END- + + + +<> + + + + + +1605 + + +MEASURE FOR MEASURE + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + VINCENTIO, the Duke + ANGELO, the Deputy + ESCALUS, an ancient Lord + CLAUDIO, a young gentleman + LUCIO, a fantastic + Two other like Gentlemen + VARRIUS, a gentleman, servant to the Duke + PROVOST + THOMAS, friar + PETER, friar + A JUSTICE + ELBOW, a simple constable + FROTH, a foolish gentleman + POMPEY, a clown and servant to Mistress Overdone + ABHORSON, an executioner + BARNARDINE, a dissolute prisoner + + ISABELLA, sister to Claudio + MARIANA, betrothed to Angelo + JULIET, beloved of Claudio + FRANCISCA, a nun + MISTRESS OVERDONE, a bawd + + Lords, Officers, Citizens, Boy, and Attendants + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +Vienna + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +The DUKE'S palace + +Enter DUKE, ESCALUS, LORDS, and ATTENDANTS + + DUKE. Escalus! + ESCALUS. My lord. + DUKE. Of government the properties to unfold + Would seem in me t' affect speech and discourse, + Since I am put to know that your own science + Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice + My strength can give you; then no more remains + But that to your sufficiency- as your worth is able- + And let them work. The nature of our people, + Our city's institutions, and the terms + For common justice, y'are as pregnant in + As art and practice hath enriched any + That we remember. There is our commission, + From which we would not have you warp. Call hither, + I say, bid come before us, Angelo. Exit an ATTENDANT + What figure of us think you he will bear? + For you must know we have with special soul + Elected him our absence to supply; + Lent him our terror, dress'd him with our love, + And given his deputation all the organs + Of our own power. What think you of it? + ESCALUS. If any in Vienna be of worth + To undergo such ample grace and honour, + It is Lord Angelo. + + Enter ANGELO + + DUKE. Look where he comes. + ANGELO. Always obedient to your Grace's will, + I come to know your pleasure. + DUKE. Angelo, + There is a kind of character in thy life + That to th' observer doth thy history + Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings + Are not thine own so proper as to waste + Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. + Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, + Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues + Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike + As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd + But to fine issues; nor Nature never lends + The smallest scruple of her excellence + But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines + Herself the glory of a creditor, + Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech + To one that can my part in him advertise. + Hold, therefore, Angelo- + In our remove be thou at full ourself; + Mortality and mercy in Vienna + Live in thy tongue and heart. Old Escalus, + Though first in question, is thy secondary. + Take thy commission. + ANGELO. Now, good my lord, + Let there be some more test made of my metal, + Before so noble and so great a figure + Be stamp'd upon it. + DUKE. No more evasion! + We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice + Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours. + Our haste from hence is of so quick condition + That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd + Matters of needful value. We shall write to you, + As time and our concernings shall importune, + How it goes with us, and do look to know + What doth befall you here. So, fare you well. + To th' hopeful execution do I leave you + Of your commissions. + ANGELO. Yet give leave, my lord, + That we may bring you something on the way. + DUKE. My haste may not admit it; + Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do + With any scruple: your scope is as mine own, + So to enforce or qualify the laws + As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand; + I'll privily away. I love the people, + But do not like to stage me to their eyes; + Though it do well, I do not relish well + Their loud applause and Aves vehement; + Nor do I think the man of safe discretion + That does affect it. Once more, fare you well. + ANGELO. The heavens give safety to your purposes! + ESCALUS. Lead forth and bring you back in happiness! + DUKE. I thank you. Fare you well. Exit + ESCALUS. I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave + To have free speech with you; and it concerns me + To look into the bottom of my place: + A pow'r I have, but of what strength and nature + I am not yet instructed. + ANGELO. 'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together, + And we may soon our satisfaction have + Touching that point. + ESCALUS. I'll wait upon your honour. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +A street + +Enter Lucio and two other GENTLEMEN + + LUCIO. If the Duke, with the other dukes, come not to composition + with the King of Hungary, why then all the dukes fall upon the + King. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of + Hungary's! + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Amen. + LUCIO. Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious pirate that went to + sea with the Ten Commandments, but scrap'd one out of the table. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Thou shalt not steal'? + LUCIO. Ay, that he raz'd. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain + and all the rest from their functions: they put forth to steal. + There's not a soldier of us all that, in the thanksgiving before + meat, do relish the petition well that prays for peace. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I never heard any soldier dislike it. + LUCIO. I believe thee; for I think thou never wast where grace was + said. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. No? A dozen times at least. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. What, in metre? + LUCIO. In any proportion or in any language. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I think, or in any religion. + LUCIO. Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all controversy; as, + for example, thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of all + grace. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Well, there went but a pair of shears between us. + LUCIO. I grant; as there may between the lists and the velvet. + Thou art the list. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. And thou the velvet; thou art good velvet; thou'rt + a three-pil'd piece, I warrant thee. I had as lief be a list of + an English kersey as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French + velvet. Do I speak feelingly now? + LUCIO. I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful feeling of + thy speech. I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin + thy health; but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I think I have done myself wrong, have I not? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or + free. + + Enter MISTRESS OVERDONE + + LUCIO. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes! I have + purchas'd as many diseases under her roof as come to- + SECOND GENTLEMAN. To what, I pray? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Judge. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. To three thousand dolours a year. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, and more. + LUCIO. A French crown more. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Thou art always figuring diseases in me, but thou + art full of error; I am sound. + LUCIO. Nay, not, as one would say, healthy; but so sound as things + that are hollow: thy bones are hollow; impiety has made a feast + of thee. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. How now! which of your hips has the most profound + sciatica? + MRS. OVERDONE. Well, well! there's one yonder arrested and carried + to prison was worth five thousand of you all. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Who's that, I pray thee? + MRS. OVERDONE. Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Claudio to prison? 'Tis not so. + MRS. OVERDONE. Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested; saw him + carried away; and, which is more, within these three days his + head to be chopp'd off. + LUCIO. But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so. Art + thou sure of this? + MRS. OVERDONE. I am too sure of it; and it is for getting Madam + Julietta with child. + LUCIO. Believe me, this may be; he promis'd to meet me two hours + since, and he was ever precise in promise-keeping. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Besides, you know, it draws something near to the + speech we had to such a purpose. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. But most of all agreeing with the proclamation. + LUCIO. Away; let's go learn the truth of it. + Exeunt Lucio and GENTLEMEN + MRS. OVERDONE. Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what + with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk. + + Enter POMPEY + + How now! what's the news with you? + POMPEY. Yonder man is carried to prison. + MRS. OVERDONE. Well, what has he done? + POMPEY. A woman. + MRS. OVERDONE. But what's his offence? + POMPEY. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. + MRS. OVERDONE. What! is there a maid with child by him? + POMPEY. No; but there's a woman with maid by him. You have not + heard of the proclamation, have you? + MRS. OVERDONE. What proclamation, man? + POMPEY. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be pluck'd down. + MRS. OVERDONE. And what shall become of those in the city? + POMPEY. They shall stand for seed; they had gone down too, but that + a wise burgher put in for them. + MRS. OVERDONE. But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be + pull'd down? + POMPEY. To the ground, mistress. + MRS. OVERDONE. Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth! + What shall become of me? + POMPEY. Come, fear not you: good counsellors lack no clients. + Though you change your place you need not change your trade; I'll + be your tapster still. Courage, there will be pity taken on you; + you that have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you will + be considered. + MRS. OVERDONE. What's to do here, Thomas Tapster? Let's withdraw. + POMPEY. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to prison; + and there's Madam Juliet. Exeunt + + Enter PROVOST, CLAUDIO, JULIET, and OFFICERS; + LUCIO following + + CLAUDIO. Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to th' world? + Bear me to prison, where I am committed. + PROVOST. I do it not in evil disposition, + But from Lord Angelo by special charge. + CLAUDIO. Thus can the demigod Authority + Make us pay down for our offence by weight + The words of heaven: on whom it will, it will; + On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just. + LUCIO. Why, how now, Claudio, whence comes this restraint? + CLAUDIO. From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty; + As surfeit is the father of much fast, + So every scope by the immoderate use + Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue, + Like rats that ravin down their proper bane, + A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die. + LUCIO. If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send for + certain of my creditors; and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief + have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment. + What's thy offence, Claudio? + CLAUDIO. What but to speak of would offend again. + LUCIO. What, is't murder? + CLAUDIO. No. + LUCIO. Lechery? + CLAUDIO. Call it so. + PROVOST. Away, sir; you must go. + CLAUDIO. One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you. + LUCIO. A hundred, if they'll do you any good. Is lechery so look'd + after? + CLAUDIO. Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract + I got possession of Julietta's bed. + You know the lady; she is fast my wife, + Save that we do the denunciation lack + Of outward order; this we came not to, + Only for propagation of a dow'r + Remaining in the coffer of her friends. + From whom we thought it meet to hide our love + Till time had made them for us. But it chances + The stealth of our most mutual entertainment, + With character too gross, is writ on Juliet. + LUCIO. With child, perhaps? + CLAUDIO. Unhappily, even so. + And the new deputy now for the Duke- + Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness, + Or whether that the body public be + A horse whereon the governor doth ride, + Who, newly in the seat, that it may know + He can command, lets it straight feel the spur; + Whether the tyranny be in his place, + Or in his eminence that fills it up, + I stagger in. But this new governor + Awakes me all the enrolled penalties + Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by th' wall + So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round + And none of them been worn; and, for a name, + Now puts the drowsy and neglected act + Freshly on me. 'Tis surely for a name. + LUCIO. I warrant it is; and thy head stands so tickle on thy + shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love, may sigh it off. + Send after the Duke, and appeal to him. + CLAUDIO. I have done so, but he's not to be found. + I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service: + This day my sister should the cloister enter, + And there receive her approbation; + Acquaint her with the danger of my state; + Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends + To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him. + I have great hope in that; for in her youth + There is a prone and speechless dialect + Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art + When she will play with reason and discourse, + And well she can persuade. + LUCIO. I pray she may; as well for the encouragement of the like, + which else would stand under grievous imposition, as for the + enjoying of thy life, who I would be sorry should be thus + foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her. + CLAUDIO. I thank you, good friend Lucio. + LUCIO. Within two hours. + CLAUDIO. Come, officer, away. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +A monastery + +Enter DUKE and FRIAR THOMAS + + DUKE. No, holy father; throw away that thought; + Believe not that the dribbling dart of love + Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee + To give me secret harbour hath a purpose + More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends + Of burning youth. + FRIAR. May your Grace speak of it? + DUKE. My holy sir, none better knows than you + How I have ever lov'd the life removed, + And held in idle price to haunt assemblies + Where youth, and cost, a witless bravery keeps. + I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo, + A man of stricture and firm abstinence, + My absolute power and place here in Vienna, + And he supposes me travell'd to Poland; + For so I have strew'd it in the common ear, + And so it is received. Now, pious sir, + You will demand of me why I do this. + FRIAR. Gladly, my lord. + DUKE. We have strict statutes and most biting laws, + The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds, + Which for this fourteen years we have let slip; + Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave, + That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers, + Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch, + Only to stick it in their children's sight + For terror, not to use, in time the rod + Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees, + Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead; + And liberty plucks justice by the nose; + The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart + Goes all decorum. + FRIAR. It rested in your Grace + To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleas'd; + And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd + Than in Lord Angelo. + DUKE. I do fear, too dreadful. + Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, + 'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them + For what I bid them do; for we bid this be done, + When evil deeds have their permissive pass + And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my father, + I have on Angelo impos'd the office; + Who may, in th' ambush of my name, strike home, + And yet my nature never in the fight + To do in slander. And to behold his sway, + I will, as 'twere a brother of your order, + Visit both prince and people. Therefore, I prithee, + Supply me with the habit, and instruct me + How I may formally in person bear me + Like a true friar. Moe reasons for this action + At our more leisure shall I render you. + Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise; + Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses + That his blood flows, or that his appetite + Is more to bread than stone. Hence shall we see, + If power change purpose, what our seemers be. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +A nunnery + +Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA + + ISABELLA. And have you nuns no farther privileges? + FRANCISCA. Are not these large enough? + ISABELLA. Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more, + But rather wishing a more strict restraint + Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare. + LUCIO. [ Within] Ho! Peace be in this place! + ISABELLA. Who's that which calls? + FRANCISCA. It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella, + Turn you the key, and know his business of him: + You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn; + When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men + But in the presence of the prioress; + Then, if you speak, you must not show your face, + Or, if you show your face, you must not speak. + He calls again; I pray you answer him. Exit FRANCISCA + ISABELLA. Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls? + + Enter LUCIO + + LUCIO. Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses + Proclaim you are no less. Can you so stead me + As bring me to the sight of Isabella, + A novice of this place, and the fair sister + To her unhappy brother Claudio? + ISABELLA. Why her 'unhappy brother'? Let me ask + The rather, for I now must make you know + I am that Isabella, and his sister. + LUCIO. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you. + Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. + ISABELLA. Woe me! For what? + LUCIO. For that which, if myself might be his judge, + He should receive his punishment in thanks: + He hath got his friend with child. + ISABELLA. Sir, make me not your story. + LUCIO. It is true. + I would not- though 'tis my familiar sin + With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest, + Tongue far from heart- play with all virgins so: + I hold you as a thing enskied and sainted, + By your renouncement an immortal spirit, + And to be talk'd with in sincerity, + As with a saint. + ISABELLA. You do blaspheme the good in mocking me. + LUCIO. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus: + Your brother and his lover have embrac'd. + As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time + That from the seedness the bare fallow brings + To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb + Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry. + ISABELLA. Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet? + LUCIO. Is she your cousin? + ISABELLA. Adoptedly, as school-maids change their names + By vain though apt affection. + LUCIO. She it is. + ISABELLA. O, let him marry her! + LUCIO. This is the point. + The Duke is very strangely gone from hence; + Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, + In hand, and hope of action; but we do learn, + By those that know the very nerves of state, + His givings-out were of an infinite distance + From his true-meant design. Upon his place, + And with full line of his authority, + Governs Lord Angelo, a man whose blood + Is very snow-broth, one who never feels + The wanton stings and motions of the sense, + But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge + With profits of the mind, study and fast. + He- to give fear to use and liberty, + Which have for long run by the hideous law, + As mice by lions- hath pick'd out an act + Under whose heavy sense your brother's life + Falls into forfeit; he arrests him on it, + And follows close the rigour of the statute + To make him an example. All hope is gone, + Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer + To soften Angelo. And that's my pith of business + 'Twixt you and your poor brother. + ISABELLA. Doth he so seek his life? + LUCIO. Has censur'd him + Already, and, as I hear, the Provost hath + A warrant for his execution. + ISABELLA. Alas! what poor ability's in me + To do him good? + LUCIO. Assay the pow'r you have. + ISABELLA. My power, alas, I doubt! + LUCIO. Our doubts are traitors, + And make us lose the good we oft might win + By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo, + And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, + Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, + All their petitions are as freely theirs + As they themselves would owe them. + ISABELLA. I'll see what I can do. + LUCIO. But speedily. + ISABELLA. I will about it straight; + No longer staying but to give the Mother + Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you. + Commend me to my brother; soon at night + I'll send him certain word of my success. + LUCIO. I take my leave of you. + ISABELLA. Good sir, adieu. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. Scene I. +A hall in ANGELO'S house + +Enter ANGELO, ESCALUS, a JUSTICE, PROVOST, OFFICERS, and other ATTENDANTS + + ANGELO. We must not make a scarecrow of the law, + Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, + And let it keep one shape till custom make it + Their perch, and not their terror. + ESCALUS. Ay, but yet + Let us be keen, and rather cut a little + Than fall and bruise to death. Alas! this gentleman, + Whom I would save, had a most noble father. + Let but your honour know, + Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, + That, in the working of your own affections, + Had time coher'd with place, or place with wishing, + Or that the resolute acting of our blood + Could have attain'd th' effect of your own purpose + Whether you had not sometime in your life + Err'd in this point which now you censure him, + And pull'd the law upon you. + ANGELO. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, + Another thing to fall. I not deny + The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, + May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two + Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice, + That justice seizes. What knows the laws + That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant, + The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't, + Because we see it; but what we do not see + We tread upon, and never think of it. + You may not so extenuate his offence + For I have had such faults; but rather tell me, + When I, that censure him, do so offend, + Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, + And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. + ESCALUS. Be it as your wisdom will. + ANGELO. Where is the Provost? + PROVOST. Here, if it like your honour. + ANGELO. See that Claudio + Be executed by nine to-morrow morning; + Bring him his confessor; let him be prepar'd; + For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. Exit PROVOST + ESCALUS. [Aside] Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! + Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall; + Some run from breaks of ice, and answer none, + And some condemned for a fault alone. + + Enter ELBOW and OFFICERS with FROTH and POMPEY + + ELBOW. Come, bring them away; if these be good people in a + commonweal that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, + I know no law; bring them away. + ANGELO. How now, sir! What's your name, and what's the matter? + ELBOW. If it please your honour, I am the poor Duke's constable, + and my name is Elbow; I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring + in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors. + ANGELO. Benefactors! Well- what benefactors are they? Are they not + malefactors? + ELBOW. If it please your honour, I know not well what they are; but + precise villains they are, that I am sure of, and void of all + profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have. + ESCALUS. This comes off well; here's a wise officer. + ANGELO. Go to; what quality are they of? Elbow is your name? Why + dost thou not speak, Elbow? + POMPEY. He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow. + ANGELO. What are you, sir? + ELBOW. He, sir? A tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that serves a bad + woman; whose house, sir, was, as they say, pluck'd down in the + suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a + very ill house too. + ESCALUS. How know you that? + ELBOW. My Wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour- + ESCALUS. How! thy wife! + ELBOW. Ay, sir; whom I thank heaven, is an honest woman- + ESCALUS. Dost thou detest her therefore? + ELBOW. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that + this house, if it be not a bawd's house, it is pity of her life, + for it is a naughty house. + ESCALUS. How dost thou know that, constable? + ELBOW. Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman + cardinally given, might have been accus'd in fornication, + adultery, and all uncleanliness there. + ESCALUS. By the woman's means? + ELBOW. Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone's means; but as she spit in + his face, so she defied him. + POMPEY. Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so. + ELBOW. Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man, + prove it. + ESCALUS. Do you hear how he misplaces? + POMPEY. Sir, she came in great with child; and longing, saving your + honour's reverence, for stew'd prunes. Sir, we had but two in the + house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a + fruit dish, a dish of some three pence; your honours have seen + such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes. + ESCALUS. Go to, go to; no matter for the dish, sir. + POMPEY. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the + right; but to the point. As I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as + I say, with child, and being great-bellied, and longing, as I + said, for prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said, + Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I + said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly; for, as you + know, Master Froth, I could not give you three pence again- + FROTH. No, indeed. + POMPEY. Very well; you being then, if you be rememb'red, cracking + the stones of the foresaid prunes- + FROTH. Ay, so I did indeed. + POMPEY. Why, very well; I telling you then, if you be rememb'red, + that such a one and such a one were past cure of the thing you + wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you- + FROTH. All this is true. + POMPEY. Why, very well then- + ESCALUS. Come, you are a tedious fool. To the purpose: what was + done to Elbow's wife that he hath cause to complain of? Come me + to what was done to her. + POMPEY. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. + ESCALUS. No, sir, nor I mean it not. + POMPEY. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave. And, + I beseech you, look into Master Froth here, sir, a man of + fourscore pound a year; whose father died at Hallowmas- was't not + at Hallowmas, Master Froth? + FROTH. All-hallond eve. + POMPEY. Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir, sitting, as + I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in the Bunch of Grapes, + where, indeed, you have a delight to sit, have you not? + FROTH. I have so; because it is an open room, and good for winter. + POMPEY. Why, very well then; I hope here be truths. + ANGELO. This will last out a night in Russia, + When nights are longest there; I'll take my leave, + And leave you to the hearing of the cause, + Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all. + ESCALUS. I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship. + [Exit ANGELO] Now, sir, come on; what was done to Elbow's wife, + once more? + POMPEY. Once?- sir. There was nothing done to her once. + ELBOW. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife. + POMPEY. I beseech your honour, ask me. + ESCALUS. Well, sir, what did this gentleman to her? + POMPEY. I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face. Good + Master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a good purpose. Doth + your honour mark his face? + ESCALUS. Ay, sir, very well. + POMPEY. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well. + ESCALUS. Well, I do so. + POMPEY. Doth your honour see any harm in his face? + ESCALUS. Why, no. + POMPEY. I'll be suppos'd upon a book his face is the worst thing + about him. Good then; if his face be the worst thing about him, + how could Master Froth do the constable's wife any harm? I would + know that of your honour. + ESCALUS. He's in the right, constable; what say you to it? + ELBOW. First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, + this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected + woman. + POMPEY. By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than + any of us all. + ELBOW. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicket varlet; the time is + yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or + child. + POMPEY. Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her. + ESCALUS. Which is the wiser here, Justice or Iniquity? Is this + true? + ELBOW. O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I + respected with her before I was married to her! If ever I was + respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me + the poor Duke's officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or + I'll have mine action of batt'ry on thee. + ESCALUS. If he took you a box o' th' ear, you might have your + action of slander too. + ELBOW. Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What is't your + worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff? + ESCALUS. Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him that + thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his + courses till thou know'st what they are. + ELBOW. Marry, I thank your worship for it. Thou seest, thou wicked + varlet, now, what's come upon thee: thou art to continue now, + thou varlet; thou art to continue. + ESCALUS. Where were you born, friend? + FROTH. Here in Vienna, sir. + ESCALUS. Are you of fourscore pounds a year? + FROTH. Yes, an't please you, sir. + ESCALUS. So. What trade are you of, sir? + POMPEY. A tapster, a poor widow's tapster. + ESCALUS. Your mistress' name? + POMPEY. Mistress Overdone. + ESCALUS. Hath she had any more than one husband? + POMPEY. Nine, sir; Overdone by the last. + ESCALUS. Nine! Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master Froth, I + would not have you acquainted with tapsters: they will draw you, + Master Froth, and you will hang them. Get you gone, and let me + hear no more of you. + FROTH. I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never come into + any room in a taphouse but I am drawn in. + ESCALUS. Well, no more of it, Master Froth; farewell. [Exit FROTH] + Come you hither to me, Master Tapster; what's your name, Master + Tapster? + POMPEY. Pompey. + ESCALUS. What else? + POMPEY. Bum, sir. + ESCALUS. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; so + that, in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, + you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a + tapster. Are you not? Come, tell me true; it shall be the better + for you. + POMPEY. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live. + ESCALUS. How would you live, Pompey- by being a bawd? What do you + think of the trade, Pompey? Is it a lawful trade? + POMPEY. If the law would allow it, sir. + ESCALUS. But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be + allowed in Vienna. + POMPEY. Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of + the city? + ESCALUS. No, Pompey. + POMPEY. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then. If + your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you + need not to fear the bawds. + ESCALUS. There is pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: but it + is but heading and hanging. + POMPEY. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten + year together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more + heads; if this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest + house in it, after threepence a bay. If you live to see this come + to pass, say Pompey told you so. + ESCALUS. Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your prophecy, + hark you: I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon + any complaint whatsoever- no, not for dwelling where you do; if I + do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd + Caesar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt. + So for this time, Pompey, fare you well. + POMPEY. I thank your worship for your good counsel; [Aside] but I + shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine. + Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade; + The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade. Exit + ESCALUS. Come hither to me, Master Elbow; come hither, Master + Constable. How long have you been in this place of constable? + ELBOW. Seven year and a half, sir. + ESCALUS. I thought, by the readiness in the office, you had + continued in it some time. You say seven years together? + ELBOW. And a half, sir. + ESCALUS. Alas, it hath been great pains to you! They do you wrong + to put you so oft upon't. Are there not men in your ward + sufficient to serve it? + ELBOW. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters; as they are + chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some + piece of money, and go through with all. + ESCALUS. Look you, bring me in the names of some six or seven, the + most sufficient of your parish. + ELBOW. To your worship's house, sir? + ESCALUS. To my house. Fare you well. [Exit ELBOW] + What's o'clock, think you? + JUSTICE. Eleven, sir. + ESCALUS. I pray you home to dinner with me. + JUSTICE. I humbly thank you. + ESCALUS. It grieves me for the death of Claudio; + But there's no remedy. + JUSTICE. Lord Angelo is severe. + ESCALUS. It is but needful: + Mercy is not itself that oft looks so; + Pardon is still the nurse of second woe. + But yet, poor Claudio! There is no remedy. + Come, sir. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Another room in ANGELO'S house + +Enter PROVOST and a SERVANT + + SERVANT. He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight. + I'll tell him of you. + PROVOST. Pray you do. [Exit SERVANT] I'll know + His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas, + He hath but as offended in a dream! + All sects, all ages, smack of this vice; and he + To die for 't! + + Enter ANGELO + + ANGELO. Now, what's the matter, Provost? + PROVOST. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow? + ANGELO. Did not I tell thee yea? Hadst thou not order? + Why dost thou ask again? + PROVOST. Lest I might be too rash; + Under your good correction, I have seen + When, after execution, judgment hath + Repented o'er his doom. + ANGELO. Go to; let that be mine. + Do you your office, or give up your place, + And you shall well be spar'd. + PROVOST. I crave your honour's pardon. + What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? + She's very near her hour. + ANGELO. Dispose of her + To some more fitter place, and that with speed. + + Re-enter SERVANT + + SERVANT. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd + Desires access to you. + ANGELO. Hath he a sister? + PROVOST. Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid, + And to be shortly of a sisterhood, + If not already. + ANGELO. Well, let her be admitted. Exit SERVANT + See you the fornicatress be remov'd; + Let her have needful but not lavish means; + There shall be order for't. + + Enter Lucio and ISABELLA + + PROVOST. [Going] Save your honour! + ANGELO. Stay a little while. [To ISABELLA] Y'are welcome; what's + your will? + ISABELLA. I am a woeful suitor to your honour, + Please but your honour hear me. + ANGELO. Well; what's your suit? + ISABELLA. There is a vice that most I do abhor, + And most desire should meet the blow of justice; + For which I would not plead, but that I must; + For which I must not plead, but that I am + At war 'twixt will and will not. + ANGELO. Well; the matter? + ISABELLA. I have a brother is condemn'd to die; + I do beseech you, let it be his fault, + And not my brother. + PROVOST. [Aside] Heaven give thee moving graces. + ANGELO. Condemn the fault and not the actor of it! + Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done; + Mine were the very cipher of a function, + To fine the faults whose fine stands in record, + And let go by the actor. + ISABELLA. O just but severe law! + I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your honour! + LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Give't not o'er so; to him again, entreat him, + Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; + You are too cold: if you should need a pin, + You could not with more tame a tongue desire it. + To him, I say. + ISABELLA. Must he needs die? + ANGELO. Maiden, no remedy. + ISABELLA. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him. + And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. + ANGELO. I will not do't. + ISABELLA. But can you, if you would? + ANGELO. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. + ISABELLA. But might you do't, and do the world no wrong, + If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse + As mine is to him? + ANGELO. He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late. + LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] You are too cold. + ISABELLA. Too late? Why, no; I, that do speak a word, + May call it back again. Well, believe this: + No ceremony that to great ones longs, + Not the king's crown nor the deputed sword, + The marshal's truncheon nor the judge's robe, + Become them with one half so good a grace + As mercy does. + If he had been as you, and you as he, + You would have slipp'd like him; but he, like you, + Would not have been so stern. + ANGELO. Pray you be gone. + ISABELLA. I would to heaven I had your potency, + And you were Isabel! Should it then be thus? + No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge + And what a prisoner. + LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Ay, touch him; there's the vein. + ANGELO. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, + And you but waste your words. + ISABELLA. Alas! Alas! + Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once; + And He that might the vantage best have took + Found out the remedy. How would you be + If He, which is the top of judgment, should + But judge you as you are? O, think on that; + And mercy then will breathe within your lips, + Like man new made. + ANGELO. Be you content, fair maid. + It is the law, not I condemn your brother. + Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, + It should be thus with him. He must die to-morrow. + ISABELLA. To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him. + He's not prepar'd for death. Even for our kitchens + We kill the fowl of season; shall we serve heaven + With less respect than we do minister + To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you. + Who is it that hath died for this offence? + There's many have committed it. + LUCIO. [Aside] Ay, well said. + ANGELO. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept. + Those many had not dar'd to do that evil + If the first that did th' edict infringe + Had answer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake, + Takes note of what is done, and, like a prophet, + Looks in a glass that shows what future evils- + Either now or by remissness new conceiv'd, + And so in progress to be hatch'd and born- + Are now to have no successive degrees, + But here they live to end. + ISABELLA. Yet show some pity. + ANGELO. I show it most of all when I show justice; + For then I pity those I do not know, + Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall, + And do him right that, answering one foul wrong, + Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; + Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. + ISABELLA. So you must be the first that gives this sentence, + And he that suffers. O, it is excellent + To have a giant's strength! But it is tyrannous + To use it like a giant. + LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] That's well said. + ISABELLA. Could great men thunder + As Jove himself does, Jove would never be quiet, + For every pelting petty officer + Would use his heaven for thunder, + Nothing but thunder. Merciful Heaven, + Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, + Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak + Than the soft myrtle. But man, proud man, + Dress'd in a little brief authority, + Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, + His glassy essence, like an angry ape, + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven + As makes the angels weep; who, with our speens, + Would all themselves laugh mortal. + LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] O, to him, to him, wench! He will relent; + He's coming; I perceive 't. + PROVOST. [Aside] Pray heaven she win him. + ISABELLA. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself. + Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them; + But in the less foul profanation. + LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Thou'rt i' th' right, girl; more o' that. + ISABELLA. That in the captain's but a choleric word + Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. + LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Art avis'd o' that? More on't. + ANGELO. Why do you put these sayings upon me? + ISABELLA. Because authority, though it err like others, + Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself + That skins the vice o' th' top. Go to your bosom, + Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know + That's like my brother's fault. If it confess + A natural guiltiness such as is his, + Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue + Against my brother's life. + ANGELO. [Aside] She speaks, and 'tis + Such sense that my sense breeds with it.- Fare you well. + ISABELLA. Gentle my lord, turn back. + ANGELO. I will bethink me. Come again to-morrow. + ISABELLA. Hark how I'll bribe you; good my lord, turn back. + ANGELO. How, bribe me? + ISABELLA. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you. + LUCIO. [To ISABELLA) You had marr'd all else. + ISABELLA. Not with fond sicles of the tested gold, + Or stones, whose rate are either rich or poor + As fancy values them; but with true prayers + That shall be up at heaven and enter there + Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls, + From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate + To nothing temporal. + ANGELO. Well; come to me to-morrow. + LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Go to; 'tis well; away. + ISABELLA. Heaven keep your honour safe! + ANGELO. [Aside] Amen; for I + Am that way going to temptation + Where prayers cross. + ISABELLA. At what hour to-morrow + Shall I attend your lordship? + ANGELO. At any time 'fore noon. + ISABELLA. Save your honour! Exeunt all but ANGELO + ANGELO. From thee; even from thy virtue! + What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine? + The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? + Ha! + Not she; nor doth she tempt; but it is I + That, lying by the violet in the sun, + Do as the carrion does, not as the flow'r, + Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be + That modesty may more betray our sense + Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, + Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, + And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie! + What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo? + Dost thou desire her foully for those things + That make her good? O, let her brother live! + Thieves for their robbery have authority + When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her, + That I desire to hear her speak again, + And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on? + O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, + With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous + Is that temptation that doth goad us on + To sin in loving virtue. Never could the strumpet, + With all her double vigour, art and nature, + Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid + Subdues me quite. Ever till now, + When men were fond, I smil'd and wond'red how. Exit + + + + +SCENE III. +A prison + +Enter, severally, DUKE, disguised as a FRIAR, and PROVOST + + DUKE. Hail to you, Provost! so I think you are. + PROVOST. I am the Provost. What's your will, good friar? + DUKE. Bound by my charity and my blest order, + I come to visit the afflicted spirits + Here in the prison. Do me the common right + To let me see them, and to make me know + The nature of their crimes, that I may minister + To them accordingly. + PROVOST. I would do more than that, if more were needful. + + Enter JULIET + + Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine, + Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth, + Hath blister'd her report. She is with child; + And he that got it, sentenc'd- a young man + More fit to do another such offence + Than die for this. + DUKE. When must he die? + PROVOST. As I do think, to-morrow. + [To JULIET] I have provided for you; stay awhile + And you shall be conducted. + DUKE. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? + JULIET. I do; and bear the shame most patiently. + DUKE. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience, + And try your penitence, if it be sound + Or hollowly put on. + JULIET. I'll gladly learn. + DUKE. Love you the man that wrong'd you? + JULIET. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him. + DUKE. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act + Was mutually committed. + JULIET. Mutually. + DUKE. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. + JULIET. I do confess it, and repent it, father. + DUKE. 'Tis meet so, daughter; but lest you do repent + As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, + Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven, + Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it, + But as we stand in fear- + JULIET. I do repent me as it is an evil, + And take the shame with joy. + DUKE. There rest. + Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, + And I am going with instruction to him. + Grace go with you! Benedicite! Exit + JULIET. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious law, + That respites me a life whose very comfort + Is still a dying horror! + PROVOST. 'Tis pity of him. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +ANGELO'S house + +Enter ANGELO + + ANGELO. When I would pray and think, I think and pray + To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words, + Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, + Anchors on Isabel. Heaven in my mouth, + As if I did but only chew his name, + And in my heart the strong and swelling evil + Of my conception. The state whereon I studied + Is, like a good thing being often read, + Grown sere and tedious; yea, my gravity, + Wherein- let no man hear me- I take pride, + Could I with boot change for an idle plume + Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form, + How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, + Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls + To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood. + Let's write 'good angel' on the devil's horn; + 'Tis not the devil's crest. + + Enter SERVANT + + How now, who's there? + SERVANT. One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you. + ANGELO. Teach her the way. [Exit SERVANT] O heavens! + Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, + Making both it unable for itself + And dispossessing all my other parts + Of necessary fitness? + So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons; + Come all to help him, and so stop the air + By which he should revive; and even so + The general subject to a well-wish'd king + Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness + Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love + Must needs appear offence. + + Enter ISABELLA + + How now, fair maid? + ISABELLA. I am come to know your pleasure. + ANGELO. That you might know it would much better please me + Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live. + ISABELLA. Even so! Heaven keep your honour! + ANGELO. Yet may he live awhile, and, it may be, + As long as you or I; yet he must die. + ISABELLA. Under your sentence? + ANGELO. Yea. + ISABELLA. When? I beseech you; that in his reprieve, + Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted + That his soul sicken not. + ANGELO. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices! It were as good + To pardon him that hath from nature stol'n + A man already made, as to remit + Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image + In stamps that are forbid; 'tis all as easy + Falsely to take away a life true made + As to put metal in restrained means + To make a false one. + ISABELLA. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. + ANGELO. Say you so? Then I shall pose you quickly. + Which had you rather- that the most just law + Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him, + Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness + As she that he hath stain'd? + ISABELLA. Sir, believe this: + I had rather give my body than my soul. + ANGELO. I talk not of your soul; our compell'd sins + Stand more for number than for accompt. + ISABELLA. How say you? + ANGELO. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak + Against the thing I say. Answer to this: + I, now the voice of the recorded law, + Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life; + Might there not be a charity in sin + To save this brother's life? + ISABELLA. Please you to do't, + I'll take it as a peril to my soul + It is no sin at all, but charity. + ANGELO. Pleas'd you to do't at peril of your soul, + Were equal poise of sin and charity. + ISABELLA. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, + Heaven let me bear it! You granting of my suit, + If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer + To have it added to the faults of mine, + And nothing of your answer. + ANGELO. Nay, but hear me; + Your sense pursues not mine; either you are ignorant + Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good. + ISABELLA. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good + But graciously to know I am no better. + ANGELO. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright + When it doth tax itself; as these black masks + Proclaim an enshielded beauty ten times louder + Than beauty could, display'd. But mark me: + To be received plain, I'll speak more gross- + Your brother is to die. + ISABELLA. So. + ANGELO. And his offence is so, as it appears, + Accountant to the law upon that pain. + ISABELLA. True. + ANGELO. Admit no other way to save his life, + As I subscribe not that, nor any other, + But, in the loss of question, that you, his sister, + Finding yourself desir'd of such a person + Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, + Could fetch your brother from the manacles + Of the all-binding law; and that there were + No earthly mean to save him but that either + You must lay down the treasures of your body + To this supposed, or else to let him suffer- + What would you do? + ISABELLA. As much for my poor brother as myself; + That is, were I under the terms of death, + Th' impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies, + And strip myself to death as to a bed + That longing have been sick for, ere I'd yield + My body up to shame. + ANGELO. Then must your brother die. + ISABELLA. And 'twere the cheaper way: + Better it were a brother died at once + Than that a sister, by redeeming him, + Should die for ever. + ANGELO. Were not you, then, as cruel as the sentence + That you have slander'd so? + ISABELLA. Ignominy in ransom and free pardon + Are of two houses: lawful mercy + Is nothing kin to foul redemption. + ANGELO. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant; + And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother + A merriment than a vice. + ISABELLA. O, pardon me, my lord! It oft falls out, + To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean: + I something do excuse the thing I hate + For his advantage that I dearly love. + ANGELO. We are all frail. + ISABELLA. Else let my brother die, + If not a fedary but only he + Owe and succeed thy weakness. + ANGELO. Nay, women are frail too. + ISABELLA. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves, + Which are as easy broke as they make forms. + Women, help heaven! Men their creation mar + In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; + For we are soft as our complexions are, + And credulous to false prints. + ANGELO. I think it well; + And from this testimony of your own sex, + Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger + Than faults may shake our frames, let me be bold. + I do arrest your words. Be that you are, + That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none; + If you be one, as you are well express'd + By all external warrants, show it now + By putting on the destin'd livery. + ISABELLA. I have no tongue but one; gentle, my lord, + Let me intreat you speak the former language. + ANGELO. Plainly conceive, I love you. + ISABELLA. My brother did love Juliet, + And you tell me that he shall die for't. + ANGELO. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. + ISABELLA. I know your virtue hath a license in't, + Which seems a little fouler than it is, + To pluck on others. + ANGELO. Believe me, on mine honour, + My words express my purpose. + ISABELLA. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd, + And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming! + I will proclaim thee, Angelo, look for't. + Sign me a present pardon for my brother + Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world aloud + What man thou art. + ANGELO. Who will believe thee, Isabel? + My unsoil'd name, th' austereness of my life, + My vouch against you, and my place i' th' state, + Will so your accusation overweigh + That you shall stifle in your own report, + And smell of calumny. I have begun, + And now I give my sensual race the rein: + Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite; + Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes + That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother + By yielding up thy body to my will; + Or else he must not only die the death, + But thy unkindness shall his death draw out + To ling'ring sufferance. Answer me to-morrow, + Or, by the affection that now guides me most, + I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you, + Say what you can: my false o'erweighs your true. Exit + ISABELLA. To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, + Who would believe me? O perilous mouths + That bear in them one and the self-same tongue + Either of condemnation or approof, + Bidding the law make curtsy to their will; + Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite, + To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother. + Though he hath fall'n by prompture of the blood, + Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour + That, had he twenty heads to tender down + On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up + Before his sister should her body stoop + To such abhorr'd pollution. + Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die: + More than our brother is our chastity. + I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request, + And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +The prison + +Enter DUKE, disguised as before, CLAUDIO, and PROVOST + + DUKE. So, then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo? + CLAUDIO. The miserable have no other medicine + But only hope: + I have hope to Eve, and am prepar'd to die. + DUKE. Be absolute for death; either death or life + Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life. + If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing + That none but fools would keep. A breath thou art, + Servile to all the skyey influences, + That dost this habitation where thou keep'st + Hourly afflict. Merely, thou art Death's fool; + For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun + And yet run'st toward him still. Thou art not noble; + For all th' accommodations that thou bear'st + Are nurs'd by baseness. Thou 'rt by no means valiant; + For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork + Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, + And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st + Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; + For thou exists on many a thousand grains + That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not; + For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get, + And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain; + For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, + After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor; + For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, + Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, + And Death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none; + For thine own bowels which do call thee sire, + The mere effusion of thy proper loins, + Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum, + For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age, + But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, + Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth + Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms + Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich, + Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, + To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this + That bears the name of life? Yet in this life + Lie hid moe thousand deaths; yet death we fear, + That makes these odds all even. + CLAUDIO. I humbly thank you. + To sue to live, I find I seek to die; + And, seeking death, find life. Let it come on. + ISABELLA. [Within] What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company! + PROVOST. Who's there? Come in; the wish deserves a welcome. + DUKE. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. + CLAUDIO. Most holy sir, I thank you. + + Enter ISABELLA + + ISABELLA. My business is a word or two with Claudio. + PROVOST. And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister. + DUKE. Provost, a word with you. + PROVOST. As many as you please. + DUKE. Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be conceal'd. + Exeunt DUKE and PROVOST + CLAUDIO. Now, sister, what's the comfort? + ISABELLA. Why, + As all comforts are; most good, most good, indeed. + Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, + Intends you for his swift ambassador, + Where you shall be an everlasting leiger. + Therefore, your best appointment make with speed; + To-morrow you set on. + CLAUDIO. Is there no remedy? + ISABELLA. None, but such remedy as, to save a head, + To cleave a heart in twain. + CLAUDIO. But is there any? + ISABELLA. Yes, brother, you may live: + There is a devilish mercy in the judge, + If you'll implore it, that will free your life, + But fetter you till death. + CLAUDIO. Perpetual durance? + ISABELLA. Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint, + Though all the world's vastidity you had, + To a determin'd scope. + CLAUDIO. But in what nature? + ISABELLA. In such a one as, you consenting to't, + Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, + And leave you naked. + CLAUDIO. Let me know the point. + ISABELLA. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, + Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, + And six or seven winters more respect + Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die? + The sense of death is most in apprehension; + And the poor beetle that we tread upon + In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great + As when a giant dies. + CLAUDIO. Why give you me this shame? + Think you I can a resolution fetch + From flow'ry tenderness? If I must die, + I will encounter darkness as a bride + And hug it in mine arms. + ISABELLA. There spake my brother; there my father's grave + Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die: + Thou art too noble to conserve a life + In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, + Whose settled visage and deliberate word + Nips youth i' th' head, and follies doth enew + As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil; + His filth within being cast, he would appear + A pond as deep as hell. + CLAUDIO. The precise Angelo! + ISABELLA. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell + The damned'st body to invest and cover + In precise guards! Dost thou think, Claudio, + If I would yield him my virginity + Thou mightst be freed? + CLAUDIO. O heavens! it cannot be. + ISABELLA. Yes, he would give't thee, from this rank offence, + So to offend him still. This night's the time + That I should do what I abhor to name, + Or else thou diest to-morrow. + CLAUDIO. Thou shalt not do't. + ISABELLA. O, were it but my life! + I'd throw it down for your deliverance + As frankly as a pin. + CLAUDIO. Thanks, dear Isabel. + ISABELLA. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow. + CLAUDIO. Yes. Has he affections in him + That thus can make him bite the law by th' nose + When he would force it? Sure it is no sin; + Or of the deadly seven it is the least. + ISABELLA. Which is the least? + CLAUDIO. If it were damnable, he being so wise, + Why would he for the momentary trick + Be perdurably fin'd?- O Isabel! + ISABELLA. What says my brother? + CLAUDIO. Death is a fearful thing. + ISABELLA. And shamed life a hateful. + CLAUDIO. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; + To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot; + This sensible warm motion to become + A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit + To bathe in fiery floods or to reside + In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; + To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, + And blown with restless violence round about + The pendent world; or to be worse than worst + Of those that lawless and incertain thought + Imagine howling- 'tis too horrible. + The weariest and most loathed worldly life + That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment, + Can lay on nature is a paradise + To what we fear of death. + ISABELLA. Alas, alas! + CLAUDIO. Sweet sister, let me live. + What sin you do to save a brother's life, + Nature dispenses with the deed so far + That it becomes a virtue. + ISABELLA. O you beast! + O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! + Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? + Is't not a kind of incest to take life + From thine own sister's shame? What should I think? + Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair! + For such a warped slip of wilderness + Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance; + Die; perish. Might but my bending down + Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed. + I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, + No word to save thee. + CLAUDIO. Nay, hear me, Isabel. + ISABELLA. O fie, fie, fie! + Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade. + Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd; + 'Tis best that thou diest quickly. + CLAUDIO. O, hear me, Isabella. + + Re-enter DUKE + + DUKE. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. + ISABELLA. What is your will? + DUKE. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have + some speech with you; the satisfaction I would require is + likewise your own benefit. + ISABELLA. I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen out + of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile. + [Walks apart] + DUKE. Son, I have overheard what hath pass'd between you and your + sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath + made an assay of her virtue to practise his judgment with the + disposition of natures. She, having the truth of honour in her, + hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to + receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; + therefore prepare yourself to death. Do not satisfy your + resolution with hopes that are fallible; to-morrow you must die; + go to your knees and make ready. + CLAUDIO. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life + that I will sue to be rid of it. + DUKE. Hold you there. Farewell. [Exit CLAUDIO] Provost, a word with + you. + + Re-enter PROVOST + + PROVOST. What's your will, father? + DUKE. That, now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me a while + with the maid; my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch + her by my company. + PROVOST. In good time. Exit PROVOST + DUKE. The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good; the + goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness; + but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body + of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, + fortune hath convey'd to my understanding; and, but that frailty + hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How + will you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother? + ISABELLA. I am now going to resolve him; I had rather my brother + die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born. But, O, how + much is the good Duke deceiv'd in Angelo! If ever he return, and + I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his + government. + DUKE. That shall not be much amiss; yet, as the matter now stands, + he will avoid your accusation: he made trial of you only. + Therefore fasten your ear on my advisings; to the love I have in + doing good a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe + that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited + benefit; redeem your brother from the angry law; do no stain to + your own gracious person; and much please the absent Duke, if + peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of this + business. + ISABELLA. Let me hear you speak farther; I have spirit to do + anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. + DUKE. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not + heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick, the great + soldier who miscarried at sea? + ISABELLA. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her + name. + DUKE. She should this Angelo have married; was affianced to her by + oath, and the nuptial appointed; between which time of the + contract and limit of the solemnity her brother Frederick was + wreck'd at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of his + sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman: + there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward + her ever most kind and natural; with him the portion and sinew of + her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate + husband, this well-seeming Angelo. + ISABELLA. Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her? + DUKE. Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his + comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries + of dishonour; in few, bestow'd her on her own lamentation, which + she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is + washed with them, but relents not. + ISABELLA. What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from + the world! What corruption in this life that it will let this man + live! But how out of this can she avail? + DUKE. It is a rupture that you may easily heal; and the cure of it + not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in + doing it. + ISABELLA. Show me how, good father. + DUKE. This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her + first affection; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should + have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, + made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his + requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to + the point; only refer yourself to this advantage: first, that + your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all + shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience. + This being granted in course- and now follows all: we shall + advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your + place. If the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may + compel him to her recompense; and here, by this, is your brother + saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and + the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame and make fit for + his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the + doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What + think you of it? + ISABELLA. The image of it gives me content already; and I trust it + will grow to a most prosperous perfection. + DUKE. It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to + Angelo; if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him + promise of satisfaction. I will presently to Saint Luke's; there, + at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that + place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be + quickly. + ISABELLA. I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. + Exeunt severally + + + + +Scene II. +The street before the prison + +Enter, on one side, DUKE disguised as before; on the other, ELBOW, +and OFFICERS with POMPEY + + ELBOW. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs + buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the + world drink brown and white bastard. + DUKE. O heavens! what stuff is here? + POMPEY. 'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the merriest + was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law a furr'd + gown to keep him warm; and furr'd with fox on lamb-skins too, to + signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the + facing. + ELBOW. Come your way, sir. Bless you, good father friar. + DUKE. And you, good brother father. What offence hath this man made + you, sir? + ELBOW. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir, we take him + to be a thief too, sir, for we have found upon him, sir, a + strange picklock, which we have sent to the deputy. + DUKE. Fie, sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd! + The evil that thou causest to be done, + That is thy means to live. Do thou but think + What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back + From such a filthy vice; say to thyself + 'From their abominable and beastly touches + I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.' + Canst thou believe thy living is a life, + So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend. + POMPEY. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir, + I would prove- + DUKE. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin, + Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer; + Correction and instruction must both work + Ere this rude beast will profit. + ELBOW. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning. + The deputy cannot abide a whoremaster; if he be a whoremonger, + and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand. + DUKE. That we were all, as some would seem to be, + From our faults, as his faults from seeming, free. + ELBOW. His neck will come to your waist- a cord, sir. + + Enter LUCIO + + POMPEY. I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman, and a friend + of mine. + LUCIO. How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of Caesar? Art + thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, + newly made woman, to be had now for putting the hand in the + pocket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply, ha? What say'st + thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't not drown'd i' th' + last rain, ha? What say'st thou, trot? Is the world as it was, + man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The + trick of it? + DUKE. Still thus, and thus; still worse! + LUCIO. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still, + ha? + POMPEY. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is + herself in the tub. + LUCIO. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so; ever + your fresh whore and your powder'd bawd- an unshunn'd + consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey? + POMPEY. Yes, faith, sir. + LUCIO. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell; go, say I sent thee + thither. For debt, Pompey- or how? + ELBOW. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. + LUCIO. Well, then, imprison him. If imprisonment be the due of a + bawd, why, 'tis his right. Bawd is he doubtless, and of + antiquity, too; bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to + the prison, Pompey. You will turn good husband now, Pompey; you + will keep the house. + POMPEY. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail. + LUCIO. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. I will + pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage. If you take it not + patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu trusty Pompey. + Bless you, friar. + DUKE. And you. + LUCIO. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha? + ELBOW. Come your ways, sir; come. + POMPEY. You will not bail me then, sir? + LUCIO. Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, friar? what news? + ELBOW. Come your ways, sir; come. + LUCIO. Go to kennel, Pompey, go. + + Exeunt ELBOW, POMPEY and OFFICERS + + What news, friar, of the Duke? + DUKE. I know none. Can you tell me of any? + LUCIO. Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other some, he is + in Rome; but where is he, think you? + DUKE. I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well. + LUCIO. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the + state and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo + dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to't. + DUKE. He does well in't. + LUCIO. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him; + something too crabbed that way, friar. + DUKE. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. + LUCIO. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is + well allied; but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till + eating and drinking be put down. They say this Angelo was not + made by man and woman after this downright way of creation. Is it + true, think you? + DUKE. How should he be made, then? + LUCIO. Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him; some, that he was begot + between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes + water his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true. And he + is a motion generative; that's infallible. + DUKE. You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. + LUCIO. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion + of a codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the Duke that + is absent have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the + getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a + thousand. He had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, + and that instructed him to mercy. + DUKE. I never heard the absent Duke much detected for women; he was + not inclin'd that way. + LUCIO. O, sir, you are deceiv'd. + DUKE. 'Tis not possible. + LUCIO. Who- not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use + was to put a ducat in her clack-dish. The Duke had crotchets in + him. He would be drunk too; that let me inform you. + DUKE. You do him wrong, surely. + LUCIO. Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the Duke; and + I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing. + DUKE. What, I prithee, might be the cause? + LUCIO. No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be lock'd within the teeth + and the lips; but this I can let you understand: the greater file + of the subject held the Duke to be wise. + DUKE. Wise? Why, no question but he was. + LUCIO. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. + DUKE. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking; the very + stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a + warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but + testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he shall appear to + the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. Therefore you + speak unskilfully; or, if your knowledge be more, it is much + dark'ned in your malice. + LUCIO. Sir, I know him, and I love him. + DUKE. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer + love. + LUCIO. Come, sir, I know what I know. + DUKE. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. + But, if ever the Duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me + desire you to make your answer before him. If it be honest you + have spoke, you have courage to maintain it; I am bound to call + upon you; and I pray you your name? + LUCIO. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the Duke. + DUKE. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. + LUCIO. I fear you not. + DUKE. O, you hope the Duke will return no more; or you imagine me + too unhurtful an opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm: + you'll forswear this again. + LUCIO. I'll be hang'd first. Thou art deceiv'd in me, friar. But no + more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow or no? + DUKE. Why should he die, sir? + LUCIO. Why? For filling a bottle with a tun-dish. I would the Duke + we talk of were return'd again. This ungenitur'd agent will + unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in + his house-eaves because they are lecherous. The Duke yet would + have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to + light. Would he were return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemned + for untrussing. Farewell, good friar; I prithee pray for me. The + Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's not + past it yet; and, I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar + though she smelt brown bread and garlic. Say that I said so. + Farewell. Exit + DUKE. No might nor greatness in mortality + Can censure scape; back-wounding calumny + The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong + Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? + But who comes here? + + Enter ESCALUS, PROVOST, and OFFICERS with + MISTRESS OVERDONE + + ESCALUS. Go, away with her to prison. + MRS. OVERDONE. Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is + accounted a merciful man; good my lord. + ESCALUS. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the + same kind! This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant. + PROVOST. A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please your + honour. + MRS. OVERDONE. My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me. + Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the Duke's time; + he promis'd her marriage. His child is a year and a quarter old + come Philip and Jacob; I have kept it myself; and see how he goes + about to abuse me. + ESCALUS. That fellow is a fellow of much license. Let him be call'd + before us. Away with her to prison. Go to; no more words. [Exeunt + OFFICERS with MISTRESS OVERDONE] Provost, my brother Angelo will + not be alter'd: Claudio must die to-morrow. Let him be furnish'd + with divines, and have all charitable preparation. If my brother + wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him. + PROVOST. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advis'd + him for th' entertainment of death. + ESCALUS. Good even, good father. + DUKE. Bliss and goodness on you! + ESCALUS. Of whence are you? + DUKE. Not of this country, though my chance is now + To use it for my time. I am a brother + Of gracious order, late come from the See + In special business from his Holiness. + ESCALUS. What news abroad i' th' world? + DUKE. None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness that the + dissolution of it must cure it. Novelty is only in request; and, + as it is, as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course as it is + virtuous to be constant in any undertakeing. There is scarce + truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security enough + to make fellowships accurst. Much upon this riddle runs the + wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every + day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the Duke? + ESCALUS. One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to + know himself. + DUKE. What pleasure was he given to? + ESCALUS. Rather rejoicing to see another merry than merry at + anything which profess'd to make him rejoice; a gentleman of all + temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they + may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know how you find + Claudio prepar'd. I am made to understand that you have lent him + visitation. + DUKE. He professes to have received no sinister measure from his + judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of + justice. Yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his + frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I, by my good + leisure, have discredited to him, and now he is resolv'd to die. + ESCALUS. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner + the very debt of your calling. I have labour'd for the poor + gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty; but my brother + justice have I found so severe that he hath forc'd me to tell him + he is indeed Justice. + DUKE. If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it + shall become him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath + sentenc'd himself. + ESCALUS. I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well. + DUKE. Peace be with you! Exeunt ESCALUS and PROVOST + + He who the sword of heaven will bear + Should be as holy as severe; + Pattern in himself to know, + Grace to stand, and virtue go; + More nor less to others paying + Than by self-offences weighing. + Shame to him whose cruel striking + Kills for faults of his own liking! + Twice treble shame on Angelo, + To weed my vice and let his grow! + O, what may man within him hide, + Though angel on the outward side! + How may likeness, made in crimes, + Make a practice on the times, + To draw with idle spiders' strings + Most ponderous and substantial things! + Craft against vice I must apply. + With Angelo to-night shall lie + His old betrothed but despised; + So disguise shall, by th' disguised, + Pay with falsehood false exacting, + And perform an old contracting. Exit + + + + +Act IV. Scene I. +The moated grange at Saint Duke's + +Enter MARIANA; and BOY singing + + SONG + + Take, O, take those lips away, + That so sweetly were forsworn; + And those eyes, the break of day, + Lights that do mislead the morn; + But my kisses bring again, bring again; + Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, seal'd in vain. + + Enter DUKE, disguised as before + + MARIANA. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away; + Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice + Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. Exit BOY + I cry you mercy, sir, and well could wish + You had not found me here so musical. + Let me excuse me, and believe me so, + My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe. + DUKE. 'Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm + To make bad good and good provoke to harm. + I pray you tell me hath anybody inquir'd for me here to-day. Much + upon this time have I promis'd here to meet. + MARIANA. You have not been inquir'd after; I have sat here all day. + + Enter ISABELLA + + DUKE. I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I + shall crave your forbearance a little. May be I will call upon + you anon, for some advantage to yourself. + MARIANA. I am always bound to you. Exit + DUKE. Very well met, and well come. + What is the news from this good deputy? + ISABELLA. He hath a garden circummur'd with brick, + Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd; + And to that vineyard is a planched gate + That makes his opening with this bigger key; + This other doth command a little door + Which from the vineyard to the garden leads. + There have I made my promise + Upon the heavy middle of the night + To call upon him. + DUKE. But shall you on your knowledge find this way? + ISABELLA. I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't; + With whispering and most guilty diligence, + In action all of precept, he did show me + The way twice o'er. + DUKE. Are there no other tokens + Between you 'greed concerning her observance? + ISABELLA. No, none, but only a repair i' th' dark; + And that I have possess'd him my most stay + Can be but brief; for I have made him know + I have a servant comes with me along, + That stays upon me; whose persuasion is + I come about my brother. + DUKE. 'Tis well borne up. + I have not yet made known to Mariana + A word of this. What ho, within! come forth. + + Re-enter MARIANA + + I pray you be acquainted with this maid; + She comes to do you good. + ISABELLA. I do desire the like. + DUKE. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? + MARIANA. Good friar, I know you do, and have found it. + DUKE. Take, then, this your companion by the hand, + Who hath a story ready for your ear. + I shall attend your leisure; but make haste; + The vaporous night approaches. + MARIANA. Will't please you walk aside? + Exeunt MARIANA and ISABELLA + DUKE. O place and greatness! Millions of false eyes + Are stuck upon thee. Volumes of report + Run with these false, and most contrarious quest + Upon thy doings. Thousand escapes of wit + Make thee the father of their idle dream, + And rack thee in their fancies. + + Re-enter MARIANA and ISABELLA + + Welcome, how agreed? + ISABELLA. She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, + If you advise it. + DUKE. It is not my consent, + But my entreaty too. + ISABELLA. Little have you to say, + When you depart from him, but, soft and low, + 'Remember now my brother.' + MARIANA. Fear me not. + DUKE. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. + He is your husband on a pre-contract. + To bring you thus together 'tis no sin, + Sith that the justice of your title to him + Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go; + Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +The prison + +Enter PROVOST and POMPEY + + PROVOST. Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head? + POMPEY. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a + married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never cut of a + woman's head. + PROVOST. Come, sir, leave me your snatches and yield me a direct + answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. Here + is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a + helper; if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem + you from your gyves; if not, you shall have your full time of + imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping, for + you have been a notorious bawd. + POMPEY. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind; but yet + I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to + receive some instructions from my fellow partner. + PROVOST. What ho, Abhorson! Where's Abhorson there? + + Enter ABHORSON + + ABHORSON. Do you call, sir? + PROVOST. Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your + execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year, + and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present, + and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath + been a bawd. + ABHORSON. A bawd, sir? Fie upon him! He will discredit our mystery. + PROVOST. Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the + scale. Exit + POMPEY. Pray, sir, by your good favour- for surely, sir, a good + favour you have but that you have a hanging look- do you call, + sir, your occupation a mystery? + ABHORSON. Ay, sir; a mystery. + POMPEY. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your + whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do + prove my occupation a mystery; but what mystery there should be + in hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine. + ABHORSON. Sir, it is a mystery. + POMPEY. Proof? + ABHORSON. Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be too + little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it + be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough; so + every true man's apparel fits your thief. + + Re-enter PROVOST + + PROVOST. Are you agreed? + POMPEY. Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more + penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftener ask forgiveness. + PROVOST. You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe to-morrow + four o'clock. + ABHORSON. Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow. + POMPEY. I do desire to learn, sir; and I hope, if you have occasion + to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare; for truly, + sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn. + PROVOST. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio. + Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY + Th' one has my pity; not a jot the other, + Being a murderer, though he were my brother. + + Enter CLAUDIO + + Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death; + 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow + Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine? + CLAUDIO. As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour + When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones. + He will not wake. + PROVOST. Who can do good on him? + Well, go, prepare yourself. [Knocking within] But hark, what + noise? + Heaven give your spirits comfort! Exit CLAUDIO + [Knocking continues] By and by. + I hope it is some pardon or reprieve + For the most gentle Claudio. + + Enter DUKE, disguised as before + + Welcome, father. + DUKE. The best and wholesom'st spirits of the night + Envelop you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late? + PROVOST. None, since the curfew rung. + DUKE. Not Isabel? + PROVOST. No. + DUKE. They will then, ere't be long. + PROVOST. What comfort is for Claudio? + DUKE. There's some in hope. + PROVOST. It is a bitter deputy. + DUKE. Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd + Even with the stroke and line of his great justice; + He doth with holy abstinence subdue + That in himself which he spurs on his pow'r + To qualify in others. Were he meal'd with that + Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; + But this being so, he's just. [Knocking within] Now are they + come. Exit PROVOST + This is a gentle provost; seldom when + The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. [Knocking within] + How now, what noise! That spirit's possess'd with haste + That wounds th' unsisting postern with these strokes. + + Re-enter PROVOST + + PROVOST. There he must stay until the officer + Arise to let him in; he is call'd up. + DUKE. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet + But he must die to-morrow? + PROVOST. None, sir, none. + DUKE. As near the dawning, Provost, as it is, + You shall hear more ere morning. + PROVOST. Happily + You something know; yet I believe there comes + No countermand; no such example have we. + Besides, upon the very siege of justice, + Lord Angelo hath to the public ear + Profess'd the contrary. + + Enter a MESSENGER + This is his lordship's man. + DUKE. And here comes Claudio's pardon. + MESSENGER. My lord hath sent you this note; and by me this further + charge, that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, + neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow; for + as I take it, it is almost day. + PROVOST. I shall obey him. Exit MESSENGER + DUKE. [Aside] This is his pardon, purchas'd by such sin + For which the pardoner himself is in; + Hence hath offence his quick celerity, + When it is borne in high authority. + When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended + That for the fault's love is th' offender friended. + Now, sir, what news? + PROVOST. I told you: Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss in mine + office, awakens me with this unwonted putting-on; methinks + strangely, for he hath not us'd it before. + DUKE. Pray you, let's hear. + PROVOST. [Reads] 'Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let + Claudio be executed by four of the clock, and, in the afternoon, + Barnardine. For my better satisfaction, let me have Claudio's + head sent me by five. Let this be duly performed, with a thought + that more depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not + to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril.' + What say you to this, sir? + DUKE. What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in th' + afternoon? + PROVOST. A Bohemian born; but here nurs'd up and bred. + One that is a prisoner nine years old. + DUKE. How came it that the absent Duke had not either deliver'd him + to his liberty or executed him? I have heard it was ever his + manner to do so. + PROVOST. His friends still wrought reprieves for him; and, indeed, + his fact, till now in the government of Lord Angelo, came not to + an undoubted proof. + DUKE. It is now apparent? + PROVOST. Most manifest, and not denied by himself. + DUKE. Hath he borne himself penitently in prison? How seems he to + be touch'd? + PROVOST. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but as a + drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless, of what's past, + present, or to come; insensible of mortality and desperately + mortal. + DUKE. He wants advice. + PROVOST. He will hear none. He hath evermore had the liberty of the + prison; give him leave to escape hence, he would not; drunk many + times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very oft + awak'd him, as if to carry him to execution, and show'd him a + seeming warrant for it; it hath not moved him at all. + DUKE. More of him anon. There is written in your brow, Provost, + honesty and constancy. If I read it not truly, my ancient skill + beguiles me; but in the boldness of my cunning I will lay myself + in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no + greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath sentenc'd him. To + make you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four + days' respite; for the which you are to do me both a present and + a dangerous courtesy. + PROVOST. Pray, sir, in what? + DUKE. In the delaying death. + PROVOST. Alack! How may I do it, having the hour limited, and an + express command, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view + of Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the + smallest. + DUKE. By the vow of mine order, I warrant you, if my instructions + may be your guide. Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, + and his head borne to Angelo. + PROVOST. Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour. + DUKE. O, death's a great disguiser; and you may add to it. Shave + the head and tie the beard; and say it was the desire of the + penitent to be so bar'd before his death. You know the course is + common. If anything fall to you upon this more than thanks and + good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead against + it with my life. + PROVOST. Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath. + DUKE. Were you sworn to the Duke, or to the deputy? + PROVOST. To him and to his substitutes. + DUKE. You will think you have made no offence if the Duke avouch + the justice of your dealing? + PROVOST. But what likelihood is in that? + DUKE. Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet since I see you + fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor persuasion, can + with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck + all fears out of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of + the Duke. You know the character, I doubt not; and the signet is + not strange to you. + PROVOST. I know them both. + DUKE. The contents of this is the return of the Duke; you shall + anon over-read it at your pleasure, where you shall find within + these two days he will be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows + not; for he this very day receives letters of strange tenour, + perchance of the Duke's death, perchance entering into some + monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what is writ. Look, th' + unfolding star calls up the shepherd. Put not yourself into + amazement how these things should be: all difficulties are but + easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with + Barnardine's head. I will give him a present shrift, and advise + him for a better place. Yet you are amaz'd, but this shall + absolutely resolve you. Come away; it is almost clear dawn. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +The prison + +Enter POMPEY + + POMPEY. I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of + profession; one would think it were Mistress Overdone's own + house, for here be many of her old customers. First, here's young + Master Rash; he's in for a commodity of brown paper and old + ginger, nine score and seventeen pounds, of which he made five + marks ready money. Marry, then ginger was not much in request, + for the old women were all dead. Then is there here one Master + Caper, at the suit of Master Threepile the mercer, for some four + suits of peach-colour'd satin, which now peaches him a beggar. + Then have we here young Dizy, and young Master Deepvow, and + Master Copperspur, and Master Starvelackey, the rapier and dagger + man, and young Dropheir that kill'd lusty Pudding, and Master + Forthlight the tilter, and brave Master Shootie the great + traveller, and wild Halfcan that stabb'd Pots, and, I think, + forty more- all great doers in our trade, and are now 'for the + Lord's sake.' + + Enter ABHORSON + + ABHORSON. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. + POMPEY. Master Barnardine! You must rise and be hang'd, Master + Barnardine! + ABHORSON. What ho, Barnardine! + BARNARDINE. [Within] A pox o' your throats! Who makes that noise + there? What are you? + POMPEY. Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so good, sir, + to rise and be put to death. + BARNARDINE. [ Within ] Away, you rogue, away; I am sleepy. + ABHORSON. Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too. + POMPEY. Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and + sleep afterwards. + ABHORSON. Go in to him, and fetch him out. + POMPEY. He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle. + + Enter BARNARDINE + + ABHORSON. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? + POMPEY. Very ready, sir. + BARNARDINE. How now, Abhorson, what's the news with you? + ABHORSON. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; + for, look you, the warrant's come. + BARNARDINE. You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not + fitted for't. + POMPEY. O, the better, sir! For he that drinks all night and is + hanged betimes in the morning may sleep the sounder all the next + day. + + Enter DUKE, disguised as before + + ABHORSON. Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly father. + Do we jest now, think you? + DUKE. Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily you are + to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you, and pray with + you. + BARNARDINE. Friar, not I; I have been drinking hard all night, and + I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my + brains with billets. I will not consent to die this day, that's + certain. + DUKE. O, Sir, you must; and therefore I beseech you + Look forward on the journey you shall go. + BARNARDINE. I swear I will not die to-day for any man's persuasion. + DUKE. But hear you- + BARNARDINE. Not a word; if you have anything to say to me, come to + my ward; for thence will not I to-day. Exit + DUKE. Unfit to live or die. O gravel heart! + After him, fellows; bring him to the block. + Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY + + Enter PROVOST + + PROVOST. Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? + DUKE. A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death; + And to transport him in the mind he is + Were damnable. + PROVOST. Here in the prison, father, + There died this morning of a cruel fever + One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, + A man of Claudio's years; his beard and head + Just of his colour. What if we do omit + This reprobate till he were well inclin'd, + And satisfy the deputy with the visage + Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio? + DUKE. O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides! + Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on + Prefix'd by Angelo. See this be done, + And sent according to command; whiles I + Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. + PROVOST. This shall be done, good father, presently. + But Barnardine must die this afternoon; + And how shall we continue Claudio, + To save me from the danger that might come + If he were known alive? + DUKE. Let this be done: + Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio. + Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting + To the under generation, you shall find + Your safety manifested. + PROVOST. I am your free dependant. + DUKE. Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo. + Exit PROVOST + Now will I write letters to Angelo- + The Provost, he shall bear them- whose contents + Shall witness to him I am near at home, + And that, by great injunctions, I am bound + To enter publicly. Him I'll desire + To meet me at the consecrated fount, + A league below the city; and from thence, + By cold gradation and well-balanc'd form. + We shall proceed with Angelo. + + Re-enter PROVOST + + PROVOST. Here is the head; I'll carry it myself. + DUKE. Convenient is it. Make a swift return; + For I would commune with you of such things + That want no ear but yours. + PROVOST. I'll make all speed. Exit + ISABELLA. [ Within ] Peace, ho, be here! + DUKE. The tongue of Isabel. She's come to know + If yet her brother's pardon be come hither; + But I will keep her ignorant of her good, + To make her heavenly comforts of despair + When it is least expected. + + Enter ISABELLA + + ISABELLA. Ho, by your leave! + DUKE. Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. + ISABELLA. The better, given me by so holy a man. + Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon? + DUKE. He hath releas'd him, Isabel, from the world. + His head is off and sent to Angelo. + ISABELLA. Nay, but it is not so. + DUKE. It is no other. + Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience, + ISABELLA. O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes! + DUKE. You shall not be admitted to his sight. + ISABELLA. Unhappy Claudio! Wretched Isabel! + Injurious world! Most damned Angelo! + DUKE. This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot; + Forbear it, therefore; give your cause to heaven. + Mark what I say, which you shall find + By every syllable a faithful verity. + The Duke comes home to-morrow. Nay, dry your eyes. + One of our covent, and his confessor, + Gives me this instance. Already he hath carried + Notice to Escalus and Angelo, + Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, + There to give up their pow'r. If you can, pace your wisdom + In that good path that I would wish it go, + And you shall have your bosom on this wretch, + Grace of the Duke, revenges to your heart, + And general honour. + ISABELLA. I am directed by you. + DUKE. This letter, then, to Friar Peter give; + 'Tis that he sent me of the Duke's return. + Say, by this token, I desire his company + At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause and yours + I'll perfect him withal; and he shall bring you + Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo + Accuse him home and home. For my poor self, + I am combined by a sacred vow, + And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter. + Command these fretting waters from your eyes + With a light heart; trust not my holy order, + If I pervert your course. Who's here? + + Enter LUCIO + + LUCIO. Good even. Friar, where's the Provost? + DUKE. Not within, sir. + LUCIO. O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see thine eyes + so red. Thou must be patient. I am fain to dine and sup with + water and bran; I dare not for my head fill my belly; one + fruitful meal would set me to't. But they say the Duke will be + here to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I lov'd thy brother. If the + old fantastical Duke of dark corners had been at home, he had + lived. Exit ISABELLA + DUKE. Sir, the Duke is marvellous little beholding to your reports; + but the best is, he lives not in them. + LUCIO. Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so well as I do; he's a + better woodman than thou tak'st him for. + DUKE. Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare ye well. + LUCIO. Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee; I can tell thee pretty + tales of the Duke. + DUKE. You have told me too many of him already, sir, if they be + true; if not true, none were enough. + LUCIO. I was once before him for getting a wench with child. + DUKE. Did you such a thing? + LUCIO. Yes, marry, did I; but I was fain to forswear it: they would + else have married me to the rotten medlar. + DUKE. Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well. + LUCIO. By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end. If bawdy + talk offend you, we'll have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a + kind of burr; I shall stick. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +ANGELO'S house + +Enter ANGELO and ESCALUS + + ESCALUS. Every letter he hath writ hath disvouch'd other. + ANGELO. In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions show much + like to madness; pray heaven his wisdom be not tainted! And why + meet him at the gates, and redeliver our authorities there? + ESCALUS. I guess not. + ANGELO. And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his + ent'ring that, if any crave redress of injustice, they should + exhibit their petitions in the street? + ESCALUS. He shows his reason for that: to have a dispatch of + complaints; and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which + shall then have no power to stand against us. + ANGELO. Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaim'd; + Betimes i' th' morn I'll call you at your house; + Give notice to such men of sort and suit + As are to meet him. + ESCALUS. I shall, sir; fare you well. + ANGELO. Good night. Exit ESCALUS + This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant + And dull to all proceedings. A deflow'red maid! + And by an eminent body that enforc'd + The law against it! But that her tender shame + Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, + How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares her no; + For my authority bears a so credent bulk + That no particular scandal once can touch + But it confounds the breather. He should have liv'd, + Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense, + Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge, + By so receiving a dishonour'd life + With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had liv'd! + Alack, when once our grace we have forgot, + Nothing goes right; we would, and we would not. Exit + + + + +SCENE V. +Fields without the town + +Enter DUKE in his own habit, and Friar PETER + + DUKE. These letters at fit time deliver me. [Giving letters] + The Provost knows our purpose and our plot. + The matter being afoot, keep your instruction + And hold you ever to our special drift; + Though sometimes you do blench from this to that + As cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavius' house, + And tell him where I stay; give the like notice + To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, + And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate; + But send me Flavius first. + PETER. It shall be speeded well. Exit FRIAR + + Enter VARRIUS + + DUKE. I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made good haste. + Come, we will walk. There's other of our friends + Will greet us here anon. My gentle Varrius! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +A street near the city gate + +Enter ISABELLA and MARIANA + + ISABELLA. To speak so indirectly I am loath; + I would say the truth; but to accuse him so, + That is your part. Yet I am advis'd to do it; + He says, to veil full purpose. + MARIANA. Be rul'd by him. + ISABELLA. Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure + He speak against me on the adverse side, + I should not think it strange; for 'tis a physic + That's bitter to sweet end. + MARIANA. I would Friar Peter- + + Enter FRIAR PETER + + ISABELLA. O, peace! the friar is come. + PETER. Come, I have found you out a stand most fit, + Where you may have such vantage on the Duke + He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded; + The generous and gravest citizens + Have hent the gates, and very near upon + The Duke is ent'ring; therefore, hence, away. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +The city gate + +Enter at several doors DUKE, VARRIUS, LORDS; ANGELO, ESCALUS, Lucio, +PROVOST, OFFICERS, and CITIZENS + + DUKE. My very worthy cousin, fairly met! + Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. + ANGELO, ESCALUS. Happy return be to your royal Grace! + DUKE. Many and hearty thankings to you both. + We have made inquiry of you, and we hear + Such goodness of your justice that our soul + Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, + Forerunning more requital. + ANGELO. You make my bonds still greater. + DUKE. O, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it + To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, + When it deserves, with characters of brass, + A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time + And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand. + And let the subject see, to make them know + That outward courtesies would fain proclaim + Favours that keep within. Come, Escalus, + You must walk by us on our other hand, + And good supporters are you. + + Enter FRIAR PETER and ISABELLA + + PETER. Now is your time; speak loud, and kneel before him. + ISABELLA. Justice, O royal Duke! Vail your regard + Upon a wrong'd- I would fain have said a maid! + O worthy Prince, dishonour not your eye + By throwing it on any other object + Till you have heard me in my true complaint, + And given me justice, justice, justice, justice. + DUKE. Relate your wrongs. In what? By whom? Be brief. + Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice; + Reveal yourself to him. + ISABELLA. O worthy Duke, + You bid me seek redemption of the devil! + Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak + Must either punish me, not being believ'd, + Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O, hear me, here! + ANGELO. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm; + She hath been a suitor to me for her brother, + Cut off by course of justice- + ISABELLA. By course of justice! + ANGELO. And she will speak most bitterly and strange. + ISABELLA. Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak. + That Angelo's forsworn, is it not strange? + That Angelo's a murderer, is't not strange? + That Angelo is an adulterous thief, + An hypocrite, a virgin-violator, + Is it not strange and strange? + DUKE. Nay, it is ten times strange. + ISABELLA. It is not truer he is Angelo + Than this is all as true as it is strange; + Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth + To th' end of reck'ning. + DUKE. Away with her. Poor soul, + She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense. + ISABELLA. O Prince! I conjure thee, as thou believ'st + There is another comfort than this world, + That thou neglect me not with that opinion + That I am touch'd with madness. Make not impossible + That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible + But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, + May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute, + As Angelo; even so may Angelo, + In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, + Be an arch-villain. Believe it, royal Prince, + If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more, + Had I more name for badness. + DUKE. By mine honesty, + If she be mad, as I believe no other, + Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, + Such a dependency of thing on thing, + As e'er I heard in madness. + ISABELLA. O gracious Duke, + Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason + For inequality; but let your reason serve + To make the truth appear where it seems hid, + And hide the false seems true. + DUKE. Many that are not mad + Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say? + ISABELLA. I am the sister of one Claudio, + Condemn'd upon the act of fornication + To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo. + I, in probation of a sisterhood, + Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio + As then the messenger- + LUCIO. That's I, an't like your Grace. + I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her + To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo + For her poor brother's pardon. + ISABELLA. That's he, indeed. + DUKE. You were not bid to speak. + LUCIO. No, my good lord; + Nor wish'd to hold my peace. + DUKE. I wish you now, then; + Pray you take note of it; and when you have + A business for yourself, pray heaven you then + Be perfect. + LUCIO. I warrant your honour. + DUKE. The warrant's for yourself; take heed to't. + ISABELLA. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. + LUCIO. Right. + DUKE. It may be right; but you are i' the wrong + To speak before your time. Proceed. + ISABELLA. I went + To this pernicious caitiff deputy. + DUKE. That's somewhat madly spoken. + ISABELLA. Pardon it; + The phrase is to the matter. + DUKE. Mended again. The matter- proceed. + ISABELLA. In brief- to set the needless process by, + How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, + How he refell'd me, and how I replied, + For this was of much length- the vile conclusion + I now begin with grief and shame to utter: + He would not, but by gift of my chaste body + To his concupiscible intemperate lust, + Release my brother; and, after much debatement, + My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, + And I did yield to him. But the next morn betimes, + His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant + For my poor brother's head. + DUKE. This is most likely! + ISABELLA. O that it were as like as it is true! + DUKE. By heaven, fond wretch, thou know'st not what thou speak'st, + Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour + In hateful practice. First, his integrity + Stands without blemish; next, it imports no reason + That with such vehemency he should pursue + Faults proper to himself. If he had so offended, + He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself, + And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on; + Confess the truth, and say by whose advice + Thou cam'st here to complain. + ISABELLA. And is this all? + Then, O you blessed ministers above, + Keep me in patience; and, with ripened time, + Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up + In countenance! Heaven shield your Grace from woe, + As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go! + DUKE. I know you'd fain be gone. An officer! + To prison with her! Shall we thus permit + A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall + On him so near us? This needs must be a practice. + Who knew of your intent and coming hither? + ISABELLA. One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick. + DUKE. A ghostly father, belike. Who knows that Lodowick? + LUCIO. My lord, I know him; 'tis a meddling friar. + I do not like the man; had he been lay, my lord, + For certain words he spake against your Grace + In your retirement, I had swing'd him soundly. + DUKE. Words against me? This's a good friar, belike! + And to set on this wretched woman here + Against our substitute! Let this friar be found. + LUCIO. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar, + I saw them at the prison; a saucy friar, + A very scurvy fellow. + PETER. Blessed be your royal Grace! + I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard + Your royal ear abus'd. First, hath this woman + Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute; + Who is as free from touch or soil with her + As she from one ungot. + DUKE. We did believe no less. + Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of? + PETER. I know him for a man divine and holy; + Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, + As he's reported by this gentleman; + And, on my trust, a man that never yet + Did, as he vouches, misreport your Grace. + LUCIO. My lord, most villainously; believe it. + PETER. Well, he in time may come to clear himself; + But at this instant he is sick, my lord, + Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request- + Being come to knowledge that there was complaint + Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo- came I hither + To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know + Is true and false; and what he, with his oath + And all probation, will make up full clear, + Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman- + To justify this worthy nobleman, + So vulgarly and personally accus'd- + Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, + Till she herself confess it. + DUKE. Good friar, let's hear it. Exit ISABELLA guarded + Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? + O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools! + Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo; + In this I'll be impartial; be you judge + Of your own cause. + + Enter MARIANA veiled + + Is this the witness, friar? + FIRST let her show her face, and after speak. + MARIANA. Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face + Until my husband bid me. + DUKE. What, are you married? + MARIANA. No, my lord. + DUKE. Are you a maid? + MARIANA. No, my lord. + DUKE. A widow, then? + MARIANA. Neither, my lord. + DUKE. Why, you are nothing then; neither maid, widow, nor wife. + LUCIO. My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither + maid, widow, nor wife. + DUKE. Silence that fellow. I would he had some cause + To prattle for himself. + LUCIO. Well, my lord. + MARIANA. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married, + And I confess, besides, I am no maid. + I have known my husband; yet my husband + Knows not that ever he knew me. + LUCIO. He was drunk, then, my lord; it can be no better. + DUKE. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too! + LUCIO. Well, my lord. + DUKE. This is no witness for Lord Angelo. + MARIANA. Now I come to't, my lord: + She that accuses him of fornication, + In self-same manner doth accuse my husband; + And charges him, my lord, with such a time + When I'll depose I had him in mine arms, + With all th' effect of love. + ANGELO. Charges she moe than me? + MARIANA. Not that I know. + DUKE. No? You say your husband. + MARIANA. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, + Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body, + But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's. + ANGELO. This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy face. + MARIANA. My husband bids me; now I will unmask. + [Unveiling] + This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, + Which once thou swor'st was worth the looking on; + This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract, + Was fast belock'd in thine; this is the body + That took away the match from Isabel, + And did supply thee at thy garden-house + In her imagin'd person. + DUKE. Know you this woman? + LUCIO. Carnally, she says. + DUKE. Sirrah, no more. + LUCIO. Enough, my lord. + ANGELO. My lord, I must confess I know this woman; + And five years since there was some speech of marriage + Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, + Partly for that her promised proportions + Came short of composition; but in chief + For that her reputation was disvalued + In levity. Since which time of five years + I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, + Upon my faith and honour. + MARIANA. Noble Prince, + As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, + As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, + I am affianc'd this man's wife as strongly + As words could make up vows. And, my good lord, + But Tuesday night last gone, in's garden-house, + He knew me as a wife. As this is true, + Let me in safety raise me from my knees, + Or else for ever be confixed here, + A marble monument! + ANGELO. I did but smile till now. + Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice; + My patience here is touch'd. I do perceive + These poor informal women are no more + But instruments of some more mightier member + That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord, + To find this practice out. + DUKE. Ay, with my heart; + And punish them to your height of pleasure. + Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman, + Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou thy oaths, + Though they would swear down each particular saint, + Were testimonies against his worth and credit, + That's seal'd in approbation? You, Lord Escalus, + Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains + To find out this abuse, whence 'tis deriv'd. + There is another friar that set them on; + Let him be sent for. + PETER. Would lie were here, my lord! For he indeed + Hath set the women on to this complaint. + Your provost knows the place where he abides, + And he may fetch him. + DUKE. Go, do it instantly. Exit PROVOST + And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, + Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, + Do with your injuries as seems you best + In any chastisement. I for a while will leave you; + But stir not you till you have well determin'd + Upon these slanderers. + ESCALUS. My lord, we'll do it throughly. Exit DUKE + Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar Lodowick to be + a dishonest person? + LUCIO. 'Cucullus non facit monachum': honest in nothing but in his + clothes; and one that hath spoke most villainous speeches of the + Duke. + ESCALUS. We shall entreat you to abide here till he come and + enforce them against him. We shall find this friar a notable + fellow. + LUCIO. As any in Vienna, on my word. + ESCALUS. Call that same Isabel here once again; I would speak with + her. [Exit an ATTENDANT] Pray you, my lord, give me leave to + question; you shall see how I'll handle her. + LUCIO. Not better than he, by her own report. + ESCALUS. Say you? + LUCIO. Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she would + sooner confess; perchance, publicly, she'll be asham'd. + + Re-enter OFFICERS with ISABELLA; and PROVOST with the + DUKE in his friar's habit + + ESCALUS. I will go darkly to work with her. + LUCIO. That's the way; for women are light at midnight. + ESCALUS. Come on, mistress; here's a gentlewoman denies all that + you have said. + LUCIO. My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of, here with the + Provost. + ESCALUS. In very good time. Speak not you to him till we call upon + you. + LUCIO. Mum. + ESCALUS. Come, sir; did you set these women on to slander Lord + Angelo? They have confess'd you did. + DUKE. 'Tis false. + ESCALUS. How! Know you where you are? + DUKE. Respect to your great place! and let the devil + Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne! + Where is the Duke? 'Tis he should hear me speak. + ESCALUS. The Duke's in us; and we will hear you speak; + Look you speak justly. + DUKE. Boldly, at least. But, O, poor souls, + Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox, + Good night to your redress! Is the Duke gone? + Then is your cause gone too. The Duke's unjust + Thus to retort your manifest appeal, + And put your trial in the villain's mouth + Which here you come to accuse. + LUCIO. This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of. + ESCALUS. Why, thou unreverend and unhallowed friar, + Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women + To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth, + And in the witness of his proper ear, + To call him villain; and then to glance from him + To th' Duke himself, to tax him with injustice? + Take him hence; to th' rack with him! We'll touze you + Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose. + What, 'unjust'! + DUKE. Be not so hot; the Duke + Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he + Dare rack his own; his subject am I not, + Nor here provincial. My business in this state + Made me a looker-on here in Vienna, + Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble + Till it o'errun the stew: laws for all faults, + But faults so countenanc'd that the strong statutes + Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop, + As much in mock as mark. + ESCALUS. Slander to th' state! Away with him to prison! + ANGELO. What can you vouch against him, Signior Lucio? + Is this the man that you did tell us of? + LUCIO. 'Tis he, my lord. Come hither, good-man bald-pate. + Do you know me? + DUKE. I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice. I met you at + the prison, in the absence of the Duke. + LUCIO. O did you so? And do you remember what you said of the Duke? + DUKE. Most notedly, sir. + LUCIO. Do you so, sir? And was the Duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and + a coward, as you then reported him to be? + DUKE. You must, sir, change persons with me ere you make that my + report; you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse. + LUCIO. O thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for + thy speeches? + DUKE. I protest I love the Duke as I love myself. + ANGELO. Hark how the villain would close now, after his treasonable + abuses! + ESCALUS. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withal. Away with him to + prison! Where is the Provost? Away with him to prison! Lay bolts + enough upon him; let him speak no more. Away with those giglets + too, and with the other confederate companion! + [The PROVOST lays bands on the DUKE] + DUKE. Stay, sir; stay awhile. + ANGELO. What, resists he? Help him, Lucio. + LUCIO. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir! Why, you + bald-pated lying rascal, you must be hooded, must you? Show your + knave's visage, with a pox to you! Show your sheep-biting face, + and be hang'd an hour! Will't not off? + [Pulls off the FRIAR'S bood and discovers the DUKE] + DUKE. Thou art the first knave that e'er mad'st a duke. + First, Provost, let me bail these gentle three. + [To Lucio] Sneak not away, sir, for the friar and you + Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him. + LUCIO. This may prove worse than hanging. + DUKE. [To ESCALUS] What you have spoke I pardon; sit you down. + We'll borrow place of him. [To ANGELO] Sir, by your leave. + Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, + That yet can do thee office? If thou hast, + Rely upon it till my tale be heard, + And hold no longer out. + ANGELO. O my dread lord, + I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, + To think I can be undiscernible, + When I perceive your Grace, like pow'r divine, + Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good Prince, + No longer session hold upon my shame, + But let my trial be mine own confession; + Immediate sentence then, and sequent death, + Is all the grace I beg. + DUKE. Come hither, Mariana. + Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman? + ANGELO. I was, my lord. + DUKE. Go, take her hence and marry her instantly. + Do you the office, friar; which consummate, + Return him here again. Go with him, Provost. + Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and PROVOST + ESCALUS. My lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonour + Than at the strangeness of it. + DUKE. Come hither, Isabel. + Your friar is now your prince. As I was then + Advertising and holy to your business, + Not changing heart with habit, I am still + Attorney'd at your service. + ISABELLA. O, give me pardon, + That I, your vassal have employ'd and pain'd + Your unknown sovereignty. + DUKE. You are pardon'd, Isabel. + And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. + Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart; + And you may marvel why I obscur'd myself, + Labouring to save his life, and would not rather + Make rash remonstrance of my hidden pow'r + Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid, + It was the swift celerity of his death, + Which I did think with slower foot came on, + That brain'd my purpose. But peace be with him! + That life is better life, past fearing death, + Than that which lives to fear. Make it your comfort, + So happy is your brother. + ISABELLA. I do, my lord. + + Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and PROVOST + + DUKE. For this new-married man approaching here, + Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd + Your well-defended honour, you must pardon + For Mariana's sake; but as he adjudg'd your brother- + Being criminal in double violation + Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach, + Thereon dependent, for your brother's life- + The very mercy of the law cries out + Most audible, even from his proper tongue, + 'An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!' + Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; + Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure. + Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested, + Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage. + We do condemn thee to the very block + Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. + Away with him! + MARIANA. O my most gracious lord, + I hope you will not mock me with a husband. + DUKE. It is your husband mock'd you with a husband. + Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, + I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, + For that he knew you, might reproach your life, + And choke your good to come. For his possessions, + Although by confiscation they are ours, + We do instate and widow you withal + To buy you a better husband. + MARIANA. O my dear lord, + I crave no other, nor no better man. + DUKE. Never crave him; we are definitive. + MARIANA. Gentle my liege- [Kneeling] + DUKE. You do but lose your labour. + Away with him to death! [To LUCIO] Now, sir, to you. + MARIANA. O my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part; + Lend me your knees, and all my life to come + I'll lend you all my life to do you service. + DUKE. Against all sense you do importune her. + Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, + Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, + And take her hence in horror. + MARIANA. Isabel, + Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; + Hold up your hands, say nothing; I'll speak all. + They say best men moulded out of faults; + And, for the most, become much more the better + For being a little bad; so may my husband. + O Isabel, will you not lend a knee? + DUKE. He dies for Claudio's death. + ISABELLA. [Kneeling] Most bounteous sir, + Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd, + As if my brother liv'd. I partly think + A due sincerity govern'd his deeds + Till he did look on me; since it is so, + Let him not die. My brother had but justice, + In that he did the thing for which he died; + For Angelo, + His act did not o'ertake his bad intent, + And must be buried but as an intent + That perish'd by the way. Thoughts are no subjects; + Intents but merely thoughts. + MARIANA. Merely, my lord. + DUKE. Your suit's unprofitable; stand up, I say. + I have bethought me of another fault. + Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded + At an unusual hour? + PROVOST. It was commanded so. + DUKE. Had you a special warrant for the deed? + PROVOST. No, my good lord; it was by private message. + DUKE. For which I do discharge you of your office; + Give up your keys. + PROVOST. Pardon me, noble lord; + I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; + Yet did repent me, after more advice; + For testimony whereof, one in the prison, + That should by private order else have died, + I have reserv'd alive. + DUKE. What's he? + PROVOST. His name is Barnardine. + DUKE. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. + Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. Exit PROVOST + ESCALUS. I am sorry one so learned and so wise + As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, + Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood + And lack of temper'd judgment afterward. + ANGELO. I am sorry that such sorrow I procure; + And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart + That I crave death more willingly than mercy; + 'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. + + Re-enter PROVOST, with BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO (muffled) + and JULIET + + DUKE. Which is that Barnardine? + PROVOST. This, my lord. + DUKE. There was a friar told me of this man. + Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul, + That apprehends no further than this world, + And squar'st thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd; + But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all, + And pray thee take this mercy to provide + For better times to come. Friar, advise him; + I leave him to your hand. What muffl'd fellow's that? + PROVOST. This is another prisoner that I sav'd, + Who should have died when Claudio lost his head; + As like almost to Claudio as himself. [Unmuffles CLAUDIO] + DUKE. [To ISABELLA] If he be like your brother, for his sake + Is he pardon'd; and for your lovely sake, + Give me your hand and say you will be mine, + He is my brother too. But fitter time for that. + By this Lord Angelo perceives he's safe; + Methinks I see a quick'ning in his eye. + Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well. + Look that you love your wife; her worth worth yours. + I find an apt remission in myself; + And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon. + To Lucio] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, + One all of luxury, an ass, a madman! + Wherein have I so deserv'd of you + That you extol me thus? + LUCIO. Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick. + If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would + please you I might be whipt. + DUKE. Whipt first, sir, and hang'd after. + Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city, + If any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow- + As I have heard him swear himself there's one + Whom he begot with child, let her appear, + And he shall marry her. The nuptial finish'd, + Let him be whipt and hang'd. + LUCIO. I beseech your Highness, do not marry me to a whore. Your + Highness said even now I made you a duke; good my lord, do not + recompense me in making me a cuckold. + DUKE. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. + Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal + Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison; + And see our pleasure herein executed. + LUCIO. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, + and hanging. + DUKE. Slandering a prince deserves it. + Exeunt OFFICERS with LUCIO + She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. + Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo; + I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue. + Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness; + There's more behind that is more gratulate. + Thanks, Provost, for thy care and secrecy; + We shall employ thee in a worthier place. + Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home + The head of Ragozine for Claudio's: + Th' offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel, + I have a motion much imports your good; + Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline, + What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. + So, bring us to our palace, where we'll show + What's yet behind that's meet you all should know. + Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1597 + +THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + THE DUKE OF VENICE + THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO, suitor to Portia + THE PRINCE OF ARRAGON, " " " + ANTONIO, a merchant of Venice + BASSANIO, his friend, suitor to Portia + SOLANIO, friend to Antonio and Bassanio + SALERIO, " " " " " + GRATIANO, " " " " " + LORENZO, in love with Jessica + SHYLOCK, a rich Jew + TUBAL, a Jew, his friend + LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a clown, servant to Shylock + OLD GOBBO, father to Launcelot + LEONARDO, servant to Bassanio + BALTHASAR, servant to Portia + STEPHANO, " " " + + PORTIA, a rich heiress + NERISSA, her waiting-maid + JESSICA, daughter to Shylock + + Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, + Gaoler, Servants, and other Attendants + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +Venice, and PORTIA'S house at Belmont + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Venice. A street + +Enter ANTONIO, SALERIO, and SOLANIO + + ANTONIO. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad. + It wearies me; you say it wearies you; + But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, + What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, + I am to learn; + And such a want-wit sadness makes of me + That I have much ado to know myself. + SALERIO. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; + There where your argosies, with portly sail- + Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, + Or as it were the pageants of the sea- + Do overpeer the petty traffickers, + That curtsy to them, do them reverence, + As they fly by them with their woven wings. + SOLANIO. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, + The better part of my affections would + Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still + Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind, + Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads; + And every object that might make me fear + Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, + Would make me sad. + SALERIO. My wind, cooling my broth, + Would blow me to an ague when I thought + What harm a wind too great might do at sea. + I should not see the sandy hour-glass run + But I should think of shallows and of flats, + And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, + Vailing her high top lower than her ribs + To kiss her burial. Should I go to church + And see the holy edifice of stone, + And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, + Which, touching but my gentle vessel's side, + Would scatter all her spices on the stream, + Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks, + And, in a word, but even now worth this, + And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought + To think on this, and shall I lack the thought + That such a thing bechanc'd would make me sad? + But tell not me; I know Antonio + Is sad to think upon his merchandise. + ANTONIO. Believe me, no; I thank my fortune for it, + My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, + Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate + Upon the fortune of this present year; + Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. + SOLANIO. Why then you are in love. + ANTONIO. Fie, fie! + SOLANIO. Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad + Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy + For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry, + Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, + Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time: + Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, + And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper; + And other of such vinegar aspect + That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile + Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. + + Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO + + Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, + Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare ye well; + We leave you now with better company. + SALERIO. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, + If worthier friends had not prevented me. + ANTONIO. Your worth is very dear in my regard. + I take it your own business calls on you, + And you embrace th' occasion to depart. + SALERIO. Good morrow, my good lords. + BASSANIO. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? Say when. + You grow exceeding strange; must it be so? + SALERIO. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. + Exeunt SALERIO and SOLANIO + LORENZO. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, + We two will leave you; but at dinner-time, + I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. + BASSANIO. I will not fail you. + GRATIANO. You look not well, Signior Antonio; + You have too much respect upon the world; + They lose it that do buy it with much care. + Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. + ANTONIO. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano- + A stage, where every man must play a part, + And mine a sad one. + GRATIANO. Let me play the fool. + With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; + And let my liver rather heat with wine + Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. + Why should a man whose blood is warm within + Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster, + Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice + By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio- + I love thee, and 'tis my love that speaks- + There are a sort of men whose visages + Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, + And do a wilful stillness entertain, + With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion + Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; + As who should say 'I am Sir Oracle, + And when I ope my lips let no dog bark.' + O my Antonio, I do know of these + That therefore only are reputed wise + For saying nothing; when, I am very sure, + If they should speak, would almost damn those ears + Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. + I'll tell thee more of this another time. + But fish not with this melancholy bait + For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. + Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile; + I'll end my exhortation after dinner. + LORENZO. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time. + I must be one of these same dumb wise men, + For Gratiano never lets me speak. + GRATIANO. Well, keep me company but two years moe, + Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. + ANTONIO. Fare you well; I'll grow a talker for this gear. + GRATIANO. Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable + In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. + Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO + ANTONIO. Is that anything now? + BASSANIO. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than + any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid + in, two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find + them, and when you have them they are not worth the search. + ANTONIO. Well; tell me now what lady is the same + To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, + That you to-day promis'd to tell me of? + BASSANIO. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, + How much I have disabled mine estate + By something showing a more swelling port + Than my faint means would grant continuance; + Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd + From such a noble rate; but my chief care + Is to come fairly off from the great debts + Wherein my time, something too prodigal, + Hath left me gag'd. To you, Antonio, + I owe the most, in money and in love; + And from your love I have a warranty + To unburden all my plots and purposes + How to get clear of all the debts I owe. + ANTONIO. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; + And if it stand, as you yourself still do, + Within the eye of honour, be assur'd + My purse, my person, my extremest means, + Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. + BASSANIO. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, + I shot his fellow of the self-same flight + The self-same way, with more advised watch, + To find the other forth; and by adventuring both + I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof, + Because what follows is pure innocence. + I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, + That which I owe is lost; but if you please + To shoot another arrow that self way + Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, + As I will watch the aim, or to find both, + Or bring your latter hazard back again + And thankfully rest debtor for the first. + ANTONIO. You know me well, and herein spend but time + To wind about my love with circumstance; + And out of doubt you do me now more wrong + In making question of my uttermost + Than if you had made waste of all I have. + Then do but say to me what I should do + That in your knowledge may by me be done, + And I am prest unto it; therefore, speak. + BASSANIO. In Belmont is a lady richly left, + And she is fair and, fairer than that word, + Of wondrous virtues. Sometimes from her eyes + I did receive fair speechless messages. + Her name is Portia- nothing undervalu'd + To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia. + Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; + For the four winds blow in from every coast + Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks + Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, + Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strond, + And many Jasons come in quest of her. + O my Antonio, had I but the means + To hold a rival place with one of them, + I have a mind presages me such thrift + That I should questionless be fortunate. + ANTONIO. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; + Neither have I money nor commodity + To raise a present sum; therefore go forth, + Try what my credit can in Venice do; + That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, + To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia. + Go presently inquire, and so will I, + Where money is; and I no question make + To have it of my trust or for my sake. Exeunt + + + + + +SCENE II. +Belmont. PORTIA'S house + +Enter PORTIA with her waiting-woman, NERISSA + + PORTIA. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this + great world. + NERISSA. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the + same abundance as your good fortunes are; and yet, for aught I + see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much as they that + starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness, therefore, to be + seated in the mean: superfluity come sooner by white hairs, but + competency lives longer. + PORTIA. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd. + NERISSA. They would be better, if well followed. + PORTIA. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, + chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' + palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions; I + can easier teach twenty what were good to be done than to be one + of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise + laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree; + such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good + counsel the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to + choose me a husband. O me, the word 'choose'! I may neither + choose who I would nor refuse who I dislike; so is the will of a + living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father. Is it not + hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none? + NERISSA. Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at their death + have good inspirations; therefore the lott'ry that he hath + devised in these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead- whereof + who chooses his meaning chooses you- will no doubt never be + chosen by any rightly but one who you shall rightly love. But + what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these + princely suitors that are already come? + PORTIA. I pray thee over-name them; and as thou namest them, I will + describe them; and according to my description, level at my + affection. + NERISSA. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. + PORTIA. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of + his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good + parts that he can shoe him himself; I am much afear'd my lady his + mother play'd false with a smith. + NERISSA. Then is there the County Palatine. + PORTIA. He doth nothing but frown, as who should say 'An you will + not have me, choose.' He hears merry tales and smiles not. I fear + he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so + full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be married + to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth than to either of + these. God defend me from these two! + NERISSA. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon? + PORTIA. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In + truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker, but he- why, he hath a + horse better than the Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of + frowning than the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man. If a + throstle sing he falls straight a-cap'ring; he will fence with + his own shadow; if I should marry him, I should marry twenty + husbands. If he would despise me, I would forgive him; for if he + love me to madness, I shall never requite him. + NERISSA. What say you then to Falconbridge, the young baron of + England? + PORTIA. You know I say nothing to him, for he understands not me, + nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian, and you + will come into the court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth + in the English. He is a proper man's picture; but alas, who can + converse with a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited! I think he + bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet + in Germany, and his behaviour everywhere. + NERISSA. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour? + PORTIA. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he borrowed + a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him + again when he was able; I think the Frenchman became his surety, + and seal'd under for another. + NERISSA. How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's + nephew? + PORTIA. Very vilely in the morning when he is sober; and most + vilely in the afternoon when he is drunk. When he is best, he is + a little worse than a man, and when he is worst, he is little + better than a beast. An the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I + shall make shift to go without him. + NERISSA. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, + you should refuse to perform your father's will, if you should + refuse to accept him. + PORTIA. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee set a deep + glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket; for if the devil be + within and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I + will do anything, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge. + NERISSA. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords; + they have acquainted me with their determinations, which is + indeed to return to their home, and to trouble you with no more + suit, unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's + imposition, depending on the caskets. + PORTIA. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste as + Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will. I + am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable; for there is not + one among them but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God + grant them a fair departure. + NERISSA. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a + Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither in company of + the Marquis of Montferrat? + PORTIA. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so was he call'd. + NERISSA. True, madam; he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes + look'd upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. + PORTIA. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy + praise. + + Enter a SERVINGMAN + + How now! what news? + SERVINGMAN. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their + leave; and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the Prince of + Morocco, who brings word the Prince his master will be here + to-night. + PORTIA. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good heart as I + can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his + approach; if he have the condition of a saint and the complexion + of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than wive me. + Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. + Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at the + door. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Venice. A public place + +Enter BASSANIO With SHYLOCK the Jew + + SHYLOCK. Three thousand ducats- well. + BASSANIO. Ay, sir, for three months. + SHYLOCK. For three months- well. + BASSANIO. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. + SHYLOCK. Antonio shall become bound- well. + BASSANIO. May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your + answer? + SHYLOCK. Three thousand ducats for three months, and Antonio bound. + BASSANIO. Your answer to that. + SHYLOCK. Antonio is a good man. + BASSANIO. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary? + SHYLOCK. Ho, no, no, no, no; my meaning in saying he is a good man + is to have you understand me that he is sufficient; yet his means + are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another + to the Indies; I understand, moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a + third at Mexico, a fourth for England- and other ventures he + hath, squand'red abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but + men; there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and + land-thieves- I mean pirates; and then there is the peril of + waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, + sufficient. Three thousand ducats- I think I may take his bond. + BASSANIO. Be assur'd you may. + SHYLOCK. I will be assur'd I may; and, that I may be assured, I + will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio? + BASSANIO. If it please you to dine with us. + SHYLOCK. Yes, to smell pork, to eat of the habitation which your + prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into! I will buy with + you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so + following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray + with you. What news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here? + + Enter ANTONIO + + BASSANIO. This is Signior Antonio. + SHYLOCK. [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks! + I hate him for he is a Christian; + But more for that in low simplicity + He lends out money gratis, and brings down + The rate of usance here with us in Venice. + If I can catch him once upon the hip, + I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. + He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, + Even there where merchants most do congregate, + On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, + Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe + If I forgive him! + BASSANIO. Shylock, do you hear? + SHYLOCK. I am debating of my present store, + And, by the near guess of my memory, + I cannot instantly raise up the gross + Of full three thousand ducats. What of that? + Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, + Will furnish me. But soft! how many months + Do you desire? [To ANTONIO] Rest you fair, good signior; + Your worship was the last man in our mouths. + ANTONIO. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow + By taking nor by giving of excess, + Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, + I'll break a custom. [To BASSANIO] Is he yet possess'd + How much ye would? + SHYLOCK. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. + ANTONIO. And for three months. + SHYLOCK. I had forgot- three months; you told me so. + Well then, your bond; and, let me see- but hear you, + Methoughts you said you neither lend nor borrow + Upon advantage. + ANTONIO. I do never use it. + SHYLOCK. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep- + This Jacob from our holy Abram was, + As his wise mother wrought in his behalf, + The third possessor; ay, he was the third- + ANTONIO. And what of him? Did he take interest? + SHYLOCK. No, not take interest; not, as you would say, + Directly int'rest; mark what Jacob did: + When Laban and himself were compromis'd + That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied + Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank, + In end of autumn turned to the rams; + And when the work of generation was + Between these woolly breeders in the act, + The skilful shepherd pill'd me certain wands, + And, in the doing of the deed of kind, + He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, + Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time + Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. + This was a way to thrive, and he was blest; + And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. + ANTONIO. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for; + A thing not in his power to bring to pass, + But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven. + Was this inserted to make interest good? + Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams? + SHYLOCK. I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast. + But note me, signior. + ANTONIO. [Aside] Mark you this, Bassanio, + The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. + An evil soul producing holy witness + Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, + A goodly apple rotten at the heart. + O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! + SHYLOCK. Three thousand ducats- 'tis a good round sum. + Three months from twelve; then let me see, the rate- + ANTONIO. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you? + SHYLOCK. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft + In the Rialto you have rated me + About my moneys and my usances; + Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, + For suff'rance is the badge of all our tribe; + You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, + And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, + And all for use of that which is mine own. + Well then, it now appears you need my help; + Go to, then; you come to me, and you say + 'Shylock, we would have moneys.' You say so- + You that did void your rheum upon my beard + And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur + Over your threshold; moneys is your suit. + What should I say to you? Should I not say + 'Hath a dog money? Is it possible + A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' Or + Shall I bend low and, in a bondman's key, + With bated breath and whisp'ring humbleness, + Say this: + 'Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last, + You spurn'd me such a day; another time + You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies + I'll lend you thus much moneys'? + ANTONIO. I am as like to call thee so again, + To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. + If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not + As to thy friends- for when did friendship take + A breed for barren metal of his friend?- + But lend it rather to thine enemy, + Who if he break thou mayst with better face + Exact the penalty. + SHYLOCK. Why, look you, how you storm! + I would be friends with you, and have your love, + Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with, + Supply your present wants, and take no doit + Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me. + This is kind I offer. + BASSANIO. This were kindness. + SHYLOCK. This kindness will I show. + Go with me to a notary, seal me there + Your single bond, and, in a merry sport, + If you repay me not on such a day, + In such a place, such sum or sums as are + Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit + Be nominated for an equal pound + Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken + In what part of your body pleaseth me. + ANTONIO. Content, in faith; I'll seal to such a bond, + And say there is much kindness in the Jew. + BASSANIO. You shall not seal to such a bond for me; + I'll rather dwell in my necessity. + ANTONIO. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it; + Within these two months- that's a month before + This bond expires- I do expect return + Of thrice three times the value of this bond. + SHYLOCK. O father Abram, what these Christians are, + Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect + The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this: + If he should break his day, what should I gain + By the exaction of the forfeiture? + A pound of man's flesh taken from a man + Is not so estimable, profitable neither, + As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, + To buy his favour, I extend this friendship; + If he will take it, so; if not, adieu; + And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. + ANTONIO. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. + SHYLOCK. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's; + Give him direction for this merry bond, + And I will go and purse the ducats straight, + See to my house, left in the fearful guard + Of an unthrifty knave, and presently + I'll be with you. + ANTONIO. Hie thee, gentle Jew. Exit SHYLOCK + The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind. + BASSANIO. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. + ANTONIO. Come on; in this there can be no dismay; + My ships come home a month before the day. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +Belmont. PORTIA'S house + +Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE of MOROCCO, a tawny Moor all in white, +and three or four FOLLOWERS accordingly, with PORTIA, NERISSA, and train + + PRINCE OF Morocco. Mislike me not for my complexion, + The shadowed livery of the burnish'd sun, + To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred. + Bring me the fairest creature northward born, + Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, + And let us make incision for your love + To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. + I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine + Hath fear'd the valiant; by my love, I swear + The best-regarded virgins of our clime + Have lov'd it too. I would not change this hue, + Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. + PORTIA. In terms of choice I am not solely led + By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; + Besides, the lott'ry of my destiny + Bars me the right of voluntary choosing. + But, if my father had not scanted me, + And hedg'd me by his wit to yield myself + His wife who wins me by that means I told you, + Yourself, renowned Prince, then stood as fair + As any comer I have look'd on yet + For my affection. + PRINCE OF MOROCCO. Even for that I thank you. + Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets + To try my fortune. By this scimitar, + That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince, + That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, + I would o'erstare the sternest eyes that look, + Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, + Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, + Yea, mock the lion when 'a roars for prey, + To win thee, lady. But, alas the while! + If Hercules and Lichas play at dice + Which is the better man, the greater throw + May turn by fortune from the weaker band. + So is Alcides beaten by his page; + And so may I, blind Fortune leading me, + Miss that which one unworthier may attain, + And die with grieving. + PORTIA. You must take your chance, + And either not attempt to choose at all, + Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong, + Never to speak to lady afterward + In way of marriage; therefore be advis'd. + PRINCE OF MOROCCO. Nor will not; come, bring me unto my chance. + PORTIA. First, forward to the temple. After dinner + Your hazard shall be made. + PRINCE OF MOROCCO. Good fortune then, + To make me blest or cursed'st among men! + [Cornets, and exeunt] + + + + +SCENE II. +Venice. A street + +Enter LAUNCELOT GOBBO + + LAUNCELOT. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this + Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and tempts me, saying + to me 'Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot' or 'good Gobbo' or + 'good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away.' + My conscience says 'No; take heed, honest Launcelot, take heed, + honest Gobbo' or, as aforesaid, 'honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not + run; scorn running with thy heels.' Well, the most courageous + fiend bids me pack. 'Via!' says the fiend; 'away!' says the + fiend. 'For the heavens, rouse up a brave mind' says the fiend + 'and run.' Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my + heart, says very wisely to me 'My honest friend Launcelot, being + an honest man's son' or rather 'an honest woman's son'; for + indeed my father did something smack, something grow to, he had a + kind of taste- well, my conscience says 'Launcelot, budge not.' + 'Budge,' says the fiend. 'Budge not,' says my conscience. + 'Conscience,' say I, (you counsel well.' 'Fiend,' say I, 'you + counsel well.' To be rul'd by my conscience, I should stay with + the Jew my master, who- God bless the mark!- is a kind of devil; + and, to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, + who- saving your reverence!- is the devil himself. Certainly the + Jew is the very devil incarnation; and, in my conscience, my + conscience is but a kind of hard conscience to offer to counsel + me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly + counsel. I will run, fiend; my heels are at your commandment; I + will run. + + Enter OLD GOBBO, with a basket + + GOBBO. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to + master Jew's? + LAUNCELOT. [Aside] O heavens! This is my true-begotten father, + who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not. + I will try confusions with him. + GOBBO. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to + master Jew's? + LAUNCELOT. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but, at + the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the very next + turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's + house. + GOBBO. Be God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit! Can you tell + me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or + no? + LAUNCELOT. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside] Mark me + now; now will I raise the waters.- Talk you of young Master + Launcelot? + GOBBO. No master, sir, but a poor man's son; his father, though I + say't, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well + to live. + LAUNCELOT. Well, let his father be what 'a will, we talk of young + Master Launcelot. + GOBBO. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. + LAUNCELOT. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk + you of young Master Launcelot? + GOBBO. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. + LAUNCELOT. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master Launcelot, + father; for the young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies + and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of + learning, is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain + terms, gone to heaven. + GOBBO. Marry, God forbid! The boy was the very staff of my age, my + very prop. + LAUNCELOT. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a + prop? Do you know me, father? + GOBBO. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman; but I pray + you tell me, is my boy- God rest his soul!- alive or dead? + LAUNCELOT. Do you not know me, father? + GOBBO. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not. + LAUNCELOT. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the + knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his own child. Well, + old man, I will tell you news of your son. Give me your blessing; + truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son + may, but in the end truth will out. + GOBBO. Pray you, sir, stand up; I am sure you are not Launcelot my + boy. + LAUNCELOT. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give + me your blessing; I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son + that is, your child that shall be. + GOBBO. I cannot think you are my son. + LAUNCELOT. I know not what I shall think of that; but I am + Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your wife is my + mother. + GOBBO. Her name is Margery, indeed. I'll be sworn, if thou be + Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord worshipp'd + might he be, what a beard hast thou got! Thou hast got more hair + on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail. + LAUNCELOT. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward; + I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have of my face + when I last saw him. + GOBBO. Lord, how art thou chang'd! How dost thou and thy master + agree? I have brought him a present. How 'gree you now? + LAUNCELOT. Well, well; but, for mine own part, as I have set up my + rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground. + My master's a very Jew. Give him a present! Give him a halter. I + am famish'd in his service; you may tell every finger I have with + my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come; give me your present to + one Master Bassanio, who indeed gives rare new liveries; if I + serve not him, I will run as far as God has any ground. O rare + fortune! Here comes the man. To him, father, for I am a Jew, if I + serve the Jew any longer. + + Enter BASSANIO, with LEONARDO, with a FOLLOWER or two + + BASSANIO. You may do so; but let it be so hasted that supper be + ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters + delivered, put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to + come anon to my lodging. Exit a SERVANT + LAUNCELOT. To him, father. + GOBBO. God bless your worship! + BASSANIO. Gramercy; wouldst thou aught with me? + GOBBO. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy- + LAUNCELOT. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man, that would, + sir, as my father shall specify- + GOBBO. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve- + LAUNCELOT. Indeed the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and + have a desire, as my father shall specify- + GOBBO. His master and he, saving your worship's reverence, are + scarce cater-cousins- + LAUNCELOT. To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having done + me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being I hope an old man, + shall frutify unto you- + GOBBO. I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your + worship; and my suit is- + LAUNCELOT. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as + your worship shall know by this honest old man; and, though I say + it, though old man, yet poor man, my father. + BASSANIO. One speak for both. What would you? + LAUNCELOT. Serve you, sir. + GOBBO. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. + BASSANIO. I know thee well; thou hast obtain'd thy suit. + Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, + And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment + To leave a rich Jew's service to become + The follower of so poor a gentleman. + LAUNCELOT. The old proverb is very well parted between my master + Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath + enough. + BASSANIO. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son. + Take leave of thy old master, and inquire + My lodging out. [To a SERVANT] Give him a livery + More guarded than his fellows'; see it done. + LAUNCELOT. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no! I have ne'er a + tongue in my head! [Looking on his palm] Well; if any man in + Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to swear upon a book- I + shall have good fortune. Go to, here's a simple line of life; + here's a small trifle of wives; alas, fifteen wives is nothing; + a'leven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man. + And then to scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life + with the edge of a feather-bed-here are simple scapes. Well, if + Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father, + come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling. + Exeunt LAUNCELOT and OLD GOBBO + BASSANIO. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this. + These things being bought and orderly bestowed, + Return in haste, for I do feast to-night + My best esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go. + LEONARDO. My best endeavours shall be done herein. + + Enter GRATIANO + + GRATIANO. Where's your master? + LEONARDO. Yonder, sir, he walks. Exit + GRATIANO. Signior Bassanio! + BASSANIO. Gratiano! + GRATIANO. I have suit to you. + BASSANIO. You have obtain'd it. + GRATIANO. You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont. + BASSANIO. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano: + Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice- + Parts that become thee happily enough, + And in such eyes as ours appear not faults; + But where thou art not known, why there they show + Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain + To allay with some cold drops of modesty + Thy skipping spirit; lest through thy wild behaviour + I be misconst'red in the place I go to + And lose my hopes. + GRATIANO. Signior Bassanio, hear me: + If I do not put on a sober habit, + Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, + Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely, + Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes + Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say amen, + Use all the observance of civility + Like one well studied in a sad ostent + To please his grandam, never trust me more. + BASSANIO. Well, we shall see your bearing. + GRATIANO. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not gauge me + By what we do to-night. + BASSANIO. No, that were pity; + I would entreat you rather to put on + Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends + That purpose merriment. But fare you well; + I have some business. + GRATIANO. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest; + But we will visit you at supper-time. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Venice. SHYLOCK'S house + +Enter JESSICA and LAUNCELOT + + JESSICA. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so. + Our house is hell; and thou, a merry devil, + Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. + But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee; + And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see + Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest. + Give him this letter; do it secretly. + And so farewell. I would not have my father + See me in talk with thee. + LAUNCELOT. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful pagan, + most sweet Jew! If a Christian do not play the knave and get + thee, I am much deceived. But, adieu! these foolish drops do + something drown my manly spirit; adieu! + JESSICA. Farewell, good Launcelot. Exit LAUNCELOT + Alack, what heinous sin is it in me + To be asham'd to be my father's child! + But though I am a daughter to his blood, + I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, + If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, + Become a Christian and thy loving wife. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +Venice. A street + +Enter GRATIANO, LORENZO, SALERIO, and SOLANIO + + LORENZO. Nay, we will slink away in suppertime, + Disguise us at my lodging, and return + All in an hour. + GRATIANO. We have not made good preparation. + SALERIO. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. + SOLANIO. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly ordered; + And better in my mind not undertook. + LORENZO. 'Tis now but four o'clock; we have two hours + To furnish us. + + Enter LAUNCELOT, With a letter + + Friend Launcelot, what's the news? + LAUNCELOT. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem + to signify. + LORENZO. I know the hand; in faith, 'tis a fair hand, + And whiter than the paper it writ on + Is the fair hand that writ. + GRATIANO. Love-news, in faith! + LAUNCELOT. By your leave, sir. + LORENZO. Whither goest thou? + LAUNCELOT. Marry, sir, to bid my old master, the Jew, to sup + to-night with my new master, the Christian. + LORENZO. Hold, here, take this. Tell gentle Jessica + I will not fail her; speak it privately. + Go, gentlemen, Exit LAUNCELOT + Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? + I am provided of a torch-bearer. + SALERIO. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. + SOLANIO. And so will I. + LORENZO. Meet me and Gratiano + At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. + SALERIO. 'Tis good we do so. Exeunt SALERIO and SOLANIO + GRATIANO. Was not that letter from fair Jessica? + LORENZO. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed + How I shall take her from her father's house; + What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with; + What page's suit she hath in readiness. + If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, + It will be for his gentle daughter's sake; + And never dare misfortune cross her foot, + Unless she do it under this excuse, + That she is issue to a faithless Jew. + Come, go with me, peruse this as thou goest; + Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Venice. Before SHYLOCK'S house + +Enter SHYLOCK and LAUNCELOT + + SHYLOCK. Well, thou shalt see; thy eyes shall be thy judge, + The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio.- + What, Jessica!- Thou shalt not gormandize + As thou hast done with me- What, Jessica!- + And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out- + Why, Jessica, I say! + LAUNCELOT. Why, Jessica! + SHYLOCK. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call. + LAUNCELOT. Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing + without bidding. + + Enter JESSICA + + JESSICA. Call you? What is your will? + SHYLOCK. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica; + There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? + I am not bid for love; they flatter me; + But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon + The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, + Look to my house. I am right loath to go; + There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, + For I did dream of money-bags to-night. + LAUNCELOT. I beseech you, sir, go; my young master doth expect your + reproach. + SHYLOCK. So do I his. + LAUNCELOT. And they have conspired together; I will not say you + shall see a masque, but if you do, then it was not for nothing + that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black Monday last at six o'clock + i' th' morning, falling out that year on Ash Wednesday was four + year, in th' afternoon. + SHYLOCK. What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica: + Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum, + And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, + Clamber not you up to the casements then, + Nor thrust your head into the public street + To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces; + But stop my house's ears- I mean my casements; + Let not the sound of shallow fopp'ry enter + My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear + I have no mind of feasting forth to-night; + But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah; + Say I will come. + LAUNCELOT. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at window for + all this. + There will come a Christian by + Will be worth a Jewess' eye. Exit + SHYLOCK. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? + JESSICA. His words were 'Farewell, mistress'; nothing else. + SHYLOCK. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder, + Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day + More than the wild-cat; drones hive not with me, + Therefore I part with him; and part with him + To one that I would have him help to waste + His borrowed purse. Well, Jessica, go in; + Perhaps I will return immediately. + Do as I bid you, shut doors after you. + Fast bind, fast find- + A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. Exit + JESSICA. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost, + I have a father, you a daughter, lost. Exit + + + + +SCENE VI. +Venice. Before SHYLOCK'S house + +Enter the maskers, GRATIANO and SALERIO + + GRATIANO. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo + Desired us to make stand. + SALERIO. His hour is almost past. + GRATIANO. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, + For lovers ever run before the clock. + SALERIO. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly + To seal love's bonds new made than they are wont + To keep obliged faith unforfeited! + GRATIANO. That ever holds: who riseth from a feast + With that keen appetite that he sits down? + Where is the horse that doth untread again + His tedious measures with the unbated fire + That he did pace them first? All things that are + Are with more spirit chased than enjoyed. + How like a younker or a prodigal + The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, + Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind; + How like the prodigal doth she return, + With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, + Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! + + Enter LORENZO + + SALERIO. Here comes Lorenzo; more of this hereafter. + LORENZO. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode! + Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait. + When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, + I'll watch as long for you then. Approach; + Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who's within? + + Enter JESSICA, above, in boy's clothes + + JESSICA. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, + Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. + LORENZO. Lorenzo, and thy love. + JESSICA. Lorenzo, certain; and my love indeed; + For who love I so much? And now who knows + But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? + LORENZO. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. + JESSICA. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. + I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, + For I am much asham'd of my exchange; + But love is blind, and lovers cannot see + The pretty follies that themselves commit, + For, if they could, Cupid himself would blush + To see me thus transformed to a boy. + LORENZO. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. + JESSICA. What! must I hold a candle to my shames? + They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light. + Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love, + And I should be obscur'd. + LORENZO. So are you, sweet, + Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. + But come at once, + For the close night doth play the runaway, + And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. + JESSICA. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself + With some moe ducats, and be with you straight. + Exit above + + GRATIANO. Now, by my hood, a gentle, and no Jew. + LORENZO. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily, + For she is wise, if I can judge of her, + And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, + And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself; + And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, + Shall she be placed in my constant soul. + + Enter JESSICA, below + + What, art thou come? On, gentlemen, away; + Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. + Exit with JESSICA and SALERIO + + Enter ANTONIO + + ANTONIO. Who's there? + GRATIANO. Signior Antonio? + ANTONIO. Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest? + 'Tis nine o'clock; our friends all stay for you; + No masque to-night; the wind is come about; + Bassanio presently will go aboard; + I have sent twenty out to seek for you. + GRATIANO. I am glad on't; I desire no more delight + Than to be under sail and gone to-night. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VII. +Belmont. PORTIA's house + +Flourish of cornets. Enter PORTIA, with the PRINCE OF MOROCCO, +and their trains + + PORTIA. Go draw aside the curtains and discover + The several caskets to this noble Prince. + Now make your choice. + PRINCE OF MOROCCO. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears: + 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' + The second, silver, which this promise carries: + 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' + This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt: + 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' + How shall I know if I do choose the right? + PORTIA. The one of them contains my picture, Prince; + If you choose that, then I am yours withal. + PRINCE OF MOROCCO. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see; + I will survey th' inscriptions back again. + What says this leaden casket? + 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' + Must give- for what? For lead? Hazard for lead! + This casket threatens; men that hazard all + Do it in hope of fair advantages. + A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; + I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. + What says the silver with her virgin hue? + 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' + As much as he deserves! Pause there, Morocco, + And weigh thy value with an even hand. + If thou beest rated by thy estimation, + Thou dost deserve enough, and yet enough + May not extend so far as to the lady; + And yet to be afeard of my deserving + Were but a weak disabling of myself. + As much as I deserve? Why, that's the lady! + I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, + In graces, and in qualities of breeding; + But more than these, in love I do deserve. + What if I stray'd no farther, but chose here? + Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold: + 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' + Why, that's the lady! All the world desires her; + From the four corners of the earth they come + To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint. + The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds + Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now + For princes to come view fair Portia. + The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head + Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar + To stop the foreign spirits, but they come + As o'er a brook to see fair Portia. + One of these three contains her heavenly picture. + Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation + To think so base a thought; it were too gross + To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. + Or shall I think in silver she's immur'd, + Being ten times undervalued to tried gold? + O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem + Was set in worse than gold. They have in England + A coin that bears the figure of an angel + Stamp'd in gold; but that's insculp'd upon. + But here an angel in a golden bed + Lies all within. Deliver me the key; + Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may! + PORTIA. There, take it, Prince, and if my form lie there, + Then I am yours. [He opens the golden casket] + PRINCE OF MOROCCO. O hell! what have we here? + A carrion Death, within whose empty eye + There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing. + 'All that glisters is not gold, + Often have you heard that told; + Many a man his life hath sold + But my outside to behold. + Gilded tombs do worms infold. + Had you been as wise as bold, + Young in limbs, in judgment old, + Your answer had not been inscroll'd. + Fare you well, your suit is cold.' + Cold indeed, and labour lost, + Then farewell, heat, and welcome, frost. + Portia, adieu! I have too griev'd a heart + To take a tedious leave; thus losers part. + Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets + PORTIA. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. + Let all of his complexion choose me so. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VIII. +Venice. A street + +Enter SALERIO and SOLANIO + + SALERIO. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail; + With him is Gratiano gone along; + And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. + SOLANIO. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the Duke, + Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. + SALERIO. He came too late, the ship was under sail; + But there the Duke was given to understand + That in a gondola were seen together + Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica; + Besides, Antonio certified the Duke + They were not with Bassanio in his ship. + SOLANIO. I never heard a passion so confus'd, + So strange, outrageous, and so variable, + As the dog Jew did utter in the streets. + 'My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter! + Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats! + Justice! the law! My ducats and my daughter! + A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, + Of double ducats, stol'n from me by my daughter! + And jewels- two stones, two rich and precious stones, + Stol'n by my daughter! Justice! Find the girl; + She hath the stones upon her and the ducats.' + SALERIO. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, + Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. + SOLANIO. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, + Or he shall pay for this. + SALERIO. Marry, well rememb'red; + I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, + Who told me, in the narrow seas that part + The French and English, there miscarried + A vessel of our country richly fraught. + I thought upon Antonio when he told me, + And wish'd in silence that it were not his. + SOLANIO. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear; + Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. + SALERIO. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. + I saw Bassanio and Antonio part. + Bassanio told him he would make some speed + Of his return. He answered 'Do not so; + Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, + But stay the very riping of the time; + And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, + Let it not enter in your mind of love; + Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts + To courtship, and such fair ostents of love + As shall conveniently become you there.' + And even there, his eye being big with tears, + Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, + And with affection wondrous sensible + He wrung Bassanio's hand; and so they parted. + SOLANIO. I think he only loves the world for him. + I pray thee, let us go and find him out, + And quicken his embraced heaviness + With some delight or other. + SALERIO. Do we so. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IX. +Belmont. PORTIA'S house + +Enter NERISSA, and a SERVITOR + + NERISSA. Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the curtain straight; + The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, + And comes to his election presently. + + Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF ARRAGON, + PORTIA, and their trains + + PORTIA. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble Prince. + If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, + Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd; + But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, + You must be gone from hence immediately. + ARRAGON. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: + First, never to unfold to any one + Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail + Of the right casket, never in my life + To woo a maid in way of marriage; + Lastly, + If I do fail in fortune of my choice, + Immediately to leave you and be gone. + PORTIA. To these injunctions every one doth swear + That comes to hazard for my worthless self. + ARRAGON. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now + To my heart's hope! Gold, silver, and base lead. + 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' + You shall look fairer ere I give or hazard. + What says the golden chest? Ha! let me see: + 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' + What many men desire- that 'many' may be meant + By the fool multitude, that choose by show, + Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach; + Which pries not to th' interior, but, like the martlet, + Builds in the weather on the outward wall, + Even in the force and road of casualty. + I will not choose what many men desire, + Because I will not jump with common spirits + And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. + Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house! + Tell me once more what title thou dost bear. + 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' + And well said too; for who shall go about + To cozen fortune, and be honourable + Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume + To wear an undeserved dignity. + O that estates, degrees, and offices, + Were not deriv'd corruptly, and that clear honour + Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer! + How many then should cover that stand bare! + How many be commanded that command! + How much low peasantry would then be gleaned + From the true seed of honour! and how much honour + Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, + To be new varnish'd! Well, but to my choice. + 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' + I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, + And instantly unlock my fortunes here. + [He opens the silver casket] + PORTIA. [Aside] Too long a pause for that which you find there. + ARRAGON. What's here? The portrait of a blinking idiot + Presenting me a schedule! I will read it. + How much unlike art thou to Portia! + How much unlike my hopes and my deservings! + 'Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.' + Did I deserve no more than a fool's head? + Is that my prize? Are my deserts no better? + PORTIA. To offend and judge are distinct offices + And of opposed natures. + ARRAGON. What is here? [Reads] + + 'The fire seven times tried this; + Seven times tried that judgment is + That did never choose amiss. + Some there be that shadows kiss, + Such have but a shadow's bliss. + There be fools alive iwis + Silver'd o'er, and so was this. + Take what wife you will to bed, + I will ever be your head. + So be gone; you are sped.' + + Still more fool I shall appear + By the time I linger here. + With one fool's head I came to woo, + But I go away with two. + Sweet, adieu! I'll keep my oath, + Patiently to bear my wroth. Exit with his train + + PORTIA. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. + O, these deliberate fools! When they do choose, + They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. + NERISSA. The ancient saying is no heresy: + Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. + PORTIA. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. + + Enter a SERVANT + + SERVANT. Where is my lady? + PORTIA. Here; what would my lord? + SERVANT. Madam, there is alighted at your gate + A young Venetian, one that comes before + To signify th' approaching of his lord, + From whom he bringeth sensible regreets; + To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, + Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen + So likely an ambassador of love. + A day in April never came so sweet + To show how costly summer was at hand + As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. + PORTIA. No more, I pray thee; I am half afeard + Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, + Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him. + Come, come, Nerissa, for I long to see + Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. + NERISSA. Bassanio, Lord Love, if thy will it be! Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Venice. A street + +Enter SOLANIO and SALERIO + + SOLANIO. Now, what news on the Rialto? + SALERIO. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd that Antonio hath a ship + of rich lading wreck'd on the narrow seas; the Goodwins I think + they call the place, a very dangerous flat and fatal, where the + carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my + gossip Report be an honest woman of her word. + SOLANIO. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapp'd + ginger or made her neighbours believe she wept for the death of a + third husband. But it is true, without any slips of prolixity or + crossing the plain highway of talk, that the good Antonio, the + honest Antonio- O that I had a title good enough to keep his name + company!- + SALERIO. Come, the full stop. + SOLANIO. Ha! What sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hath lost a + ship. + SALERIO. I would it might prove the end of his losses. + SOLANIO. Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer, + for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. + + Enter SHYLOCK + + How now, Shylock? What news among the merchants? + SHYLOCK. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my + daughter's flight. + SALERIO. That's certain; I, for my part, knew the tailor that made + the wings she flew withal. + SOLANIO. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was flidge; + and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam. + SHYLOCK. She is damn'd for it. + SALERIO. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge. + SHYLOCK. My own flesh and blood to rebel! + SOLANIO. Out upon it, old carrion! Rebels it at these years? + SHYLOCK. I say my daughter is my flesh and my blood. + SALERIO. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers than + between jet and ivory; more between your bloods than there is + between red wine and Rhenish. But tell us, do you hear whether + Antonio have had any loss at sea or no? + SHYLOCK. There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a prodigal, + who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto; a beggar, that was + us'd to come so smug upon the mart. Let him look to his bond. He + was wont to call me usurer; let him look to his bond. He was wont + to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him look to his bond. + SALERIO. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his + flesh. What's that good for? + SHYLOCK. To bait fish withal. If it will feed nothing else, it will + feed my revenge. He hath disgrac'd me and hind'red me half a + million; laugh'd at my losses, mock'd at my gains, scorned my + nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine + enemies. And what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? + Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, + passions, fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, + subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed + and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If + you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? + If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we + not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you + in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? + Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance + be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me + I will execute; and itshall go hard but I will better the + instruction. + + Enter a MAN from ANTONIO + + MAN. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to + speak with you both. + SALERIO. We have been up and down to seek him. + + Enter TUBAL + + SOLANIO. Here comes another of the tribe; a third cannot be + match'd, unless the devil himself turn Jew. + Exeunt SOLANIO, SALERIO, and MAN + SHYLOCK. How now, Tubal, what news from Genoa? Hast thou found my + daughter? + TUBAL. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her. + SHYLOCK. Why there, there, there, there! A diamond gone, cost me + two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse never fell upon our + nation till now; I never felt it till now. Two thousand ducats in + that, and other precious, precious jewels. I would my daughter + were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear; would she were + hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No news of + them? Why, so- and I know not what's spent in the search. Why, + thou- loss upon loss! The thief gone with so much, and so much to + find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge; nor no ill luck + stirring but what lights o' my shoulders; no sighs but o' my + breathing; no tears but o' my shedding! + TUBAL. Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I heard in + Genoa- + SHYLOCK. What, what, what? Ill luck, ill luck? + TUBAL. Hath an argosy cast away coming from Tripolis. + SHYLOCK. I thank God, I thank God. Is it true, is it true? + TUBAL. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck. + SHYLOCK. I thank thee, good Tubal. Good news, good news- ha, ha!- + heard in Genoa. + TUBAL. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, one night, + fourscore ducats. + SHYLOCK. Thou stick'st a dagger in me- I shall never see my gold + again. Fourscore ducats at a sitting! Fourscore ducats! + TUBAL. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my company to + Venice that swear he cannot choose but break. + SHYLOCK. I am very glad of it; I'll plague him, I'll torture him; I + am glad of it. + TUBAL. One of them showed me a ring that he had of your daughter + for a monkey. + SHYLOCK. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal. It was my + turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor; I would not + have given it for a wilderness of monkeys. + TUBAL. But Antonio is certainly undone. + SHYLOCK. Nay, that's true; that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee me an + officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have the heart of + him, if he forfeit; for, were he out of Venice, I can make what + merchandise I will. Go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, + good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Belmont. PORTIA'S house + +Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and all their trains + + PORTIA. I pray you tarry; pause a day or two + Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, + I lose your company; therefore forbear a while. + There's something tells me- but it is not love- + I would not lose you; and you know yourself + Hate counsels not in such a quality. + But lest you should not understand me well- + And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought- + I would detain you here some month or two + Before you venture for me. I could teach you + How to choose right, but then I am forsworn; + So will I never be; so may you miss me; + But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, + That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes! + They have o'erlook'd me and divided me; + One half of me is yours, the other half yours- + Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, + And so all yours. O! these naughty times + Puts bars between the owners and their rights; + And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, + Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. + I speak too long, but 'tis to peize the time, + To eke it, and to draw it out in length, + To stay you from election. + BASSANIO. Let me choose; + For as I am, I live upon the rack. + PORTIA. Upon the rack, Bassanio? Then confess + What treason there is mingled with your love. + BASSANIO. None but that ugly treason of mistrust + Which makes me fear th' enjoying of my love; + There may as well be amity and life + 'Tween snow and fire as treason and my love. + PORTIA. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, + Where men enforced do speak anything. + BASSANIO. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth. + PORTIA. Well then, confess and live. + BASSANIO. 'Confess' and 'love' + Had been the very sum of my confession. + O happy torment, when my torturer + Doth teach me answers for deliverance! + But let me to my fortune and the caskets. + PORTIA. Away, then; I am lock'd in one of them. + If you do love me, you will find me out. + Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof; + Let music sound while he doth make his choice; + Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, + Fading in music. That the comparison + May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream + And wat'ry death-bed for him. He may win; + And what is music then? Then music is + Even as the flourish when true subjects bow + To a new-crowned monarch; such it is + As are those dulcet sounds in break of day + That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear + And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, + With no less presence, but with much more love, + Than young Alcides when he did redeem + The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy + To the sea-monster. I stand for sacrifice; + The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, + With bleared visages come forth to view + The issue of th' exploit. Go, Hercules! + Live thou, I live. With much much more dismay + I view the fight than thou that mak'st the fray. + + A SONG + + the whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself + + Tell me where is fancy bred, + Or in the heart or in the head, + How begot, how nourished? + Reply, reply. + It is engend'red in the eyes, + With gazing fed; and fancy dies + In the cradle where it lies. + Let us all ring fancy's knell: + I'll begin it- Ding, dong, bell. + ALL. Ding, dong, bell. + + BASSANIO. So may the outward shows be least themselves; + The world is still deceiv'd with ornament. + In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt + But, being season'd with a gracious voice, + Obscures the show of evil? In religion, + What damned error but some sober brow + Will bless it, and approve it with a text, + Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? + There is no vice so simple but assumes + Some mark of virtue on his outward parts. + How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false + As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins + The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars; + Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk! + And these assume but valour's excrement + To render them redoubted. Look on beauty + And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight, + Which therein works a miracle in nature, + Making them lightest that wear most of it; + So are those crisped snaky golden locks + Which make such wanton gambols with the wind + Upon supposed fairness often known + To be the dowry of a second head- + The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. + Thus ornament is but the guiled shore + To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf + Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, + The seeming truth which cunning times put on + To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold, + Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee; + Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge + 'Tween man and man; but thou, thou meagre lead, + Which rather threaten'st than dost promise aught, + Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence, + And here choose I. Joy be the consequence! + PORTIA. [Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air, + As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair, + And shudd'ring fear, and green-ey'd jealousy! + O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, + In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess! + I feel too much thy blessing. Make it less, + For fear I surfeit. + BASSANIO. [Opening the leaden casket] What find I here? + Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god + Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? + Or whether riding on the balls of mine + Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips, + Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar + Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs + The painter plays the spider, and hath woven + A golden mesh t' entrap the hearts of men + Faster than gnats in cobwebs. But her eyes- + How could he see to do them? Having made one, + Methinks it should have power to steal both his, + And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look how far + The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow + In underprizing it, so far this shadow + Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll, + The continent and summary of my fortune. + 'You that choose not by the view, + Chance as fair and choose as true! + Since this fortune falls to you, + Be content and seek no new. + If you be well pleas'd with this, + And hold your fortune for your bliss, + Turn to where your lady is + And claim her with a loving kiss.' + A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave; + I come by note, to give and to receive. + Like one of two contending in a prize, + That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, + Hearing applause and universal shout, + Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt + Whether those peals of praise be his or no; + So, thrice-fair lady, stand I even so, + As doubtful whether what I see be true, + Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you. + PORTIA. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, + Such as I am. Though for myself alone + I would not be ambitious in my wish + To wish myself much better, yet for you + I would be trebled twenty times myself, + A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich, + That only to stand high in your account + I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, + Exceed account. But the full sum of me + Is sum of something which, to term in gross, + Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd; + Happy in this, she is not yet so old + But she may learn; happier than this, + She is not bred so dull but she can learn; + Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit + Commits itself to yours to be directed, + As from her lord, her governor, her king. + Myself and what is mine to you and yours + Is now converted. But now I was the lord + Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, + Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, + This house, these servants, and this same myself, + Are yours- my lord's. I give them with this ring, + Which when you part from, lose, or give away, + Let it presage the ruin of your love, + And be my vantage to exclaim on you. + BASSANIO. Madam, you have bereft me of all words; + Only my blood speaks to you in my veins; + And there is such confusion in my powers + As, after some oration fairly spoke + By a beloved prince, there doth appear + Among the buzzing pleased multitude, + Where every something, being blent together, + Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy + Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring + Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence; + O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead! + NERISSA. My lord and lady, it is now our time + That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper + To cry 'Good joy.' Good joy, my lord and lady! + GRATIANO. My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle lady, + I wish you all the joy that you can wish, + For I am sure you can wish none from me; + And, when your honours mean to solemnize + The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you + Even at that time I may be married too. + BASSANIO. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. + GRATIANO. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. + My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours: + You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid; + You lov'd, I lov'd; for intermission + No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. + Your fortune stood upon the caskets there, + And so did mine too, as the matter falls; + For wooing here until I sweat again, + And swearing till my very roof was dry + With oaths of love, at last- if promise last- + I got a promise of this fair one here + To have her love, provided that your fortune + Achiev'd her mistress. + PORTIA. Is this true, Nerissa? + NERISSA. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal. + BASSANIO. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? + GRATIANO. Yes, faith, my lord. + BASSANIO. Our feast shall be much honoured in your marriage. + GRATIANO. We'll play with them: the first boy for a thousand + ducats. + NERISSA. What, and stake down? + GRATIANO. No; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake down- + But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? + What, and my old Venetian friend, Salerio! + + Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALERIO, a messenger + from Venice + + BASSANIO. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither, + If that the youth of my new int'rest here + Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, + I bid my very friends and countrymen, + Sweet Portia, welcome. + PORTIA. So do I, my lord; + They are entirely welcome. + LORENZO. I thank your honour. For my part, my lord, + My purpose was not to have seen you here; + But meeting with Salerio by the way, + He did entreat me, past all saying nay, + To come with him along. + SALERIO. I did, my lord, + And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio + Commends him to you. [Gives BASSANIO a letter] + BASSANIO. Ere I ope his letter, + I pray you tell me how my good friend doth. + SALERIO. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; + Nor well, unless in mind; his letter there + Will show you his estate. [BASSANIO opens the letter] + GRATIANO. Nerissa, cheer yond stranger; bid her welcome. + Your hand, Salerio. What's the news from Venice? + How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? + I know he will be glad of our success: + We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. + SALERIO. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. + PORTIA. There are some shrewd contents in yond same paper + That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek: + Some dear friend dead, else nothing in the world + Could turn so much the constitution + Of any constant man. What, worse and worse! + With leave, Bassanio: I am half yourself, + And I must freely have the half of anything + That this same paper brings you. + BASSANIO. O sweet Portia, + Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words + That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady, + When I did first impart my love to you, + I freely told you all the wealth I had + Ran in my veins- I was a gentleman; + And then I told you true. And yet, dear lady, + Rating myself at nothing, you shall see + How much I was a braggart. When I told you + My state was nothing, I should then have told you + That I was worse than nothing; for indeed + I have engag'd myself to a dear friend, + Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy, + To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady, + The paper as the body of my friend, + And every word in it a gaping wound + Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio? + Hath all his ventures fail'd? What, not one hit? + From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, + From Lisbon, Barbary, and India, + And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch + Of merchant-marring rocks? + SALERIO. Not one, my lord. + Besides, it should appear that, if he had + The present money to discharge the Jew, + He would not take it. Never did I know + A creature that did bear the shape of man + So keen and greedy to confound a man. + He plies the Duke at morning and at night, + And doth impeach the freedom of the state, + If they deny him justice. Twenty merchants, + The Duke himself, and the magnificoes + Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him; + But none can drive him from the envious plea + Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. + JESSICA. When I was with him, I have heard him swear + To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, + That he would rather have Antonio's flesh + Than twenty times the value of the sum + That he did owe him; and I know, my lord, + If law, authority, and power, deny not, + It will go hard with poor Antonio. + PORTIA. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? + BASSANIO. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, + The best condition'd and unwearied spirit + In doing courtesies; and one in whom + The ancient Roman honour more appears + Than any that draws breath in Italy. + PORTIA. What sum owes he the Jew? + BASSANIO. For me, three thousand ducats. + PORTIA. What! no more? + Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond; + Double six thousand, and then treble that, + Before a friend of this description + Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. + First go with me to church and call me wife, + And then away to Venice to your friend; + For never shall you lie by Portia's side + With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold + To pay the petty debt twenty times over. + When it is paid, bring your true friend along. + My maid Nerissa and myself meantime + Will live as maids and widows. Come, away; + For you shall hence upon your wedding day. + Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer; + Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. + But let me hear the letter of your friend. + BASSANIO. [Reads] 'Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, + my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the + Jew is forfeit; and since, in paying it, it is impossible I + should live, all debts are clear'd between you and I, if I might + but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure; if + your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.' + PORTIA. O love, dispatch all business and be gone! + BASSANIO. Since I have your good leave to go away, + I will make haste; but, till I come again, + No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, + Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Venice. A street + +Enter SHYLOCK, SOLANIO, ANTONIO, and GAOLER + + SHYLOCK. Gaoler, look to him. Tell not me of mercy- + This is the fool that lent out money gratis. + Gaoler, look to him. + ANTONIO. Hear me yet, good Shylock. + SHYLOCK. I'll have my bond; speak not against my bond. + I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. + Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause, + But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs; + The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, + Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond + To come abroad with him at his request. + ANTONIO. I pray thee hear me speak. + SHYLOCK. I'll have my bond. I will not hear thee speak; + I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no more. + I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool, + To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield, + To Christian intercessors. Follow not; + I'll have no speaking; I will have my bond. Exit + SOLANIO. It is the most impenetrable cur + That ever kept with men. + ANTONIO. Let him alone; + I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. + He seeks my life; his reason well I know: + I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures + Many that have at times made moan to me; + Therefore he hates me. + SOLANIO. I am sure the Duke + Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. + ANTONIO. The Duke cannot deny the course of law; + For the commodity that strangers have + With us in Venice, if it be denied, + Will much impeach the justice of the state, + Since that the trade and profit of the city + Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go; + These griefs and losses have so bated me + That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh + To-morrow to my bloody creditor. + Well, gaoler, on; pray God Bassanio come + To see me pay his debt, and then I care not. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Belmont. PORTIA'S house + +Enter PORTIA, NERISSA, LORENZO, JESSICA, and BALTHASAR + + LORENZO. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, + You have a noble and a true conceit + Of godlike amity, which appears most strongly + In bearing thus the absence of your lord. + But if you knew to whom you show this honour, + How true a gentleman you send relief, + How dear a lover of my lord your husband, + I know you would be prouder of the work + Than customary bounty can enforce you. + PORTIA. I never did repent for doing good, + Nor shall not now; for in companions + That do converse and waste the time together, + Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, + There must be needs a like proportion + Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit, + Which makes me think that this Antonio, + Being the bosom lover of my lord, + Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, + How little is the cost I have bestowed + In purchasing the semblance of my soul + From out the state of hellish cruelty! + This comes too near the praising of myself; + Therefore, no more of it; hear other things. + Lorenzo, I commit into your hands + The husbandry and manage of my house + Until my lord's return; for mine own part, + I have toward heaven breath'd a secret vow + To live in prayer and contemplation, + Only attended by Nerissa here, + Until her husband and my lord's return. + There is a monastery two miles off, + And there we will abide. I do desire you + Not to deny this imposition, + The which my love and some necessity + Now lays upon you. + LORENZO. Madam, with all my heart + I shall obey you in an fair commands. + PORTIA. My people do already know my mind, + And will acknowledge you and Jessica + In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. + So fare you well till we shall meet again. + LORENZO. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you! + JESSICA. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. + PORTIA. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas'd + To wish it back on you. Fare you well, Jessica. + Exeunt JESSICA and LORENZO + Now, Balthasar, + As I have ever found thee honest-true, + So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, + And use thou all th' endeavour of a man + In speed to Padua; see thou render this + Into my cousin's hands, Doctor Bellario; + And look what notes and garments he doth give thee, + Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed + Unto the traject, to the common ferry + Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, + But get thee gone; I shall be there before thee. + BALTHASAR. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. Exit + PORTIA. Come on, Nerissa, I have work in hand + That you yet know not of; we'll see our husbands + Before they think of us. + NERISSA. Shall they see us? + PORTIA. They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit + That they shall think we are accomplished + With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager, + When we are both accoutred like young men, + I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, + And wear my dagger with the braver grace, + And speak between the change of man and boy + With a reed voice; and turn two mincing steps + Into a manly stride; and speak of frays + Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint lies, + How honourable ladies sought my love, + Which I denying, they fell sick and died- + I could not do withal. Then I'll repent, + And wish for all that, that I had not kill'd them. + And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell, + That men shall swear I have discontinued school + About a twelvemonth. I have within my mind + A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, + Which I will practise. + NERISSA. Why, shall we turn to men? + PORTIA. Fie, what a question's that, + If thou wert near a lewd interpreter! + But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device + When I am in my coach, which stays for us + At the park gate; and therefore haste away, + For we must measure twenty miles to-day. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +Belmont. The garden + +Enter LAUNCELOT and JESSICA + + LAUNCELOT. Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father are to + be laid upon the children; therefore, I promise you, I fear you. + I was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation of + the matter; therefore be o' good cheer, for truly I think you are + damn'd. There is but one hope in it that can do you any good, and + that is but a kind of bastard hope, neither. + JESSICA. And what hope is that, I pray thee? + LAUNCELOT. Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you not- + that you are not the Jew's daughter. + JESSICA. That were a kind of bastard hope indeed; so the sins of my + mother should be visited upon me. + LAUNCELOT. Truly then I fear you are damn'd both by father and + mother; thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into + Charybdis, your mother; well, you are gone both ways. + JESSICA. I shall be sav'd by my husband; he hath made me a + Christian. + LAUNCELOT. Truly, the more to blame he; we were Christians enow + before, e'en as many as could well live one by another. This + making of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we grow all + to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the + coals for money. + + Enter LORENZO + + JESSICA. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say; here he + comes. + LORENZO. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if you + thus get my wife into corners. + JESSICA. Nay, you need nor fear us, Lorenzo; Launcelot and I are + out; he tells me flatly there's no mercy for me in heaven, + because I am a Jew's daughter; and he says you are no good member + of the commonwealth, for in converting Jews to Christians you + raise the price of pork. + LORENZO. I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than you + can the getting up of the negro's belly; the Moor is with child + by you, Launcelot. + LAUNCELOT. It is much that the Moor should be more than reason; but + if she be less than an honest woman, she is indeed more than I + took her for. + LORENZO. How every fool can play upon the word! I think the best + grace of wit will shortly turn into silence, and discourse grow + commendable in none only but parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid them + prepare for dinner. + LAUNCELOT. That is done, sir; they have all stomachs. + LORENZO. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! Then bid them + prepare dinner. + LAUNCELOT. That is done too, sir, only 'cover' is the word. + LORENZO. Will you cover, then, sir? + LAUNCELOT. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty. + LORENZO. Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show the + whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray thee understand a + plain man in his plain meaning: go to thy fellows, bid them cover + the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner. + LAUNCELOT. For the table, sir, it shall be serv'd in; for the meat, + sir, it shall be cover'd; for your coming in to dinner, sir, why, + let it be as humours and conceits shall govern. + Exit + LORENZO. O dear discretion, how his words are suited! + The fool hath planted in his memory + An army of good words; and I do know + A many fools that stand in better place, + Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word + Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica? + And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, + How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife? + JESSICA. Past all expressing. It is very meet + The Lord Bassanio live an upright life, + For, having such a blessing in his lady, + He finds the joys of heaven here on earth; + And if on earth he do not merit it, + In reason he should never come to heaven. + Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match, + And on the wager lay two earthly women, + And Portia one, there must be something else + Pawn'd with the other; for the poor rude world + Hath not her fellow. + LORENZO. Even such a husband + Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. + JESSICA. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. + LORENZO. I will anon; first let us go to dinner. + JESSICA. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach. + LORENZO. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk; + Then howsome'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things + I shall digest it. + JESSICA. Well, I'll set you forth. Exeunt + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +Venice. The court of justice + +Enter the DUKE, the MAGNIFICOES, ANTONIO, BASSANIO, GRATIANO, SALERIO, +and OTHERS + + DUKE OF VENICE. What, is Antonio here? + ANTONIO. Ready, so please your Grace. + DUKE OF VENICE. I am sorry for thee; thou art come to answer + A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, + Uncapable of pity, void and empty + From any dram of mercy. + ANTONIO. I have heard + Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify + His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, + And that no lawful means can carry me + Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose + My patience to his fury, and am arm'd + To suffer with a quietness of spirit + The very tyranny and rage of his. + DUKE OF VENICE. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. + SALERIO. He is ready at the door; he comes, my lord. + + Enter SHYLOCK + + DUKE OF VENICE. Make room, and let him stand before our face. + Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, + That thou but leadest this fashion of thy malice + To the last hour of act; and then, 'tis thought, + Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange + Than is thy strange apparent cruelty; + And where thou now exacts the penalty, + Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, + Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, + But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, + Forgive a moiety of the principal, + Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, + That have of late so huddled on his back- + Enow to press a royal merchant down, + And pluck commiseration of his state + From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, + From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd + To offices of tender courtesy. + We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. + SHYLOCK. I have possess'd your Grace of what I purpose, + And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn + To have the due and forfeit of my bond. + If you deny it, let the danger light + Upon your charter and your city's freedom. + You'll ask me why I rather choose to have + A weight of carrion flesh than to receive + Three thousand ducats. I'll not answer that, + But say it is my humour- is it answer'd? + What if my house be troubled with a rat, + And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats + To have it ban'd? What, are you answer'd yet? + Some men there are love not a gaping pig; + Some that are mad if they behold a cat; + And others, when the bagpipe sings i' th' nose, + Cannot contain their urine; for affection, + Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood + Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer: + As there is no firm reason to be rend'red + Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; + Why he, a harmless necessary cat; + Why he, a woollen bagpipe, but of force + Must yield to such inevitable shame + As to offend, himself being offended; + So can I give no reason, nor I will not, + More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing + I bear Antonio, that I follow thus + A losing suit against him. Are you answered? + BASSANIO. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, + To excuse the current of thy cruelty. + SHYLOCK. I am not bound to please thee with my answers. + BASSANIO. Do all men kill the things they do not love? + SHYLOCK. Hates any man the thing he would not kill? + BASSANIO. Every offence is not a hate at first. + SHYLOCK. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice? + ANTONIO. I pray you, think you question with the Jew. + You may as well go stand upon the beach + And bid the main flood bate his usual height; + You may as well use question with the wolf, + Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; + You may as well forbid the mountain pines + To wag their high tops and to make no noise + When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven; + You may as well do anything most hard + As seek to soften that- than which what's harder?- + His jewish heart. Therefore, I do beseech you, + Make no moe offers, use no farther means, + But with all brief and plain conveniency + Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. + BASSANIO. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. + SHYLOCK. If every ducat in six thousand ducats + Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, + I would not draw them; I would have my bond. + DUKE OF VENICE. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none? + SHYLOCK. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong? + You have among you many a purchas'd slave, + Which, fike your asses and your dogs and mules, + You use in abject and in slavish parts, + Because you bought them; shall I say to you + 'Let them be free, marry them to your heirs- + Why sweat they under burdens?- let their beds + Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates + Be season'd with such viands'? You will answer + 'The slaves are ours.' So do I answer you: + The pound of flesh which I demand of him + Is dearly bought, 'tis mine, and I will have it. + If you deny me, fie upon your law! + There is no force in the decrees of Venice. + I stand for judgment; answer; shall I have it? + DUKE OF VENICE. Upon my power I may dismiss this court, + Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, + Whom I have sent for to determine this, + Come here to-day. + SALERIO. My lord, here stays without + A messenger with letters from the doctor, + New come from Padua. + DUKE OF VENICE. Bring us the letters; call the messenger. + BASSANIO. Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet! + The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, + Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. + ANTONIO. I am a tainted wether of the flock, + Meetest for death; the weakest kind of fruit + Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me. + You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, + Than to live still, and write mine epitaph. + + Enter NERISSA dressed like a lawyer's clerk + + DUKE OF VENICE. Came you from Padua, from Bellario? + NERISSA. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace. + [Presents a letter] + BASSANIO. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? + SHYLOCK. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. + GRATIANO. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, + Thou mak'st thy knife keen; but no metal can, + No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness + Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee? + SHYLOCK. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. + GRATIANO. O, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog! + And for thy life let justice be accus'd. + Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, + To hold opinion with Pythagoras + That souls of animals infuse themselves + Into the trunks of men. Thy currish spirit + Govern'd a wolf who, hang'd for human slaughter, + Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, + And, whilst thou layest in thy unhallowed dam, + Infus'd itself in thee; for thy desires + Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd and ravenous. + SHYLOCK. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, + Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud; + Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall + To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. + DUKE OF VENICE. This letter from Bellario doth commend + A young and learned doctor to our court. + Where is he? + NERISSA. He attendeth here hard by + To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. + DUKE OF VENICE. With all my heart. Some three or four of you + Go give him courteous conduct to this place. + Meantime, the court shall hear Bellario's letter. + CLERK. [Reads] 'Your Grace shall understand that at the receipt + of your letter I am very sick; but in the instant that your + messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor + of Rome- his name is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the cause + in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant; we + turn'd o'er many books together; he is furnished with my opinion + which, bettered with his own learning-the greatness whereof I + cannot enough commend- comes with him at my importunity to fill + up your Grace's request in my stead. I beseech you let his lack + of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation, + for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave him + to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his + commendation.' + + Enter PORTIA for BALTHAZAR, dressed like a Doctor of Laws + + DUKE OF VENICE. YOU hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes; + And here, I take it, is the doctor come. + Give me your hand; come you from old Bellario? + PORTIA. I did, my lord. + DUKE OF VENICE. You are welcome; take your place. + Are you acquainted with the difference + That holds this present question in the court? + PORTIA. I am informed throughly of the cause. + Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew? + DUKE OF VENICE. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. + PORTIA. Is your name Shylock? + SHYLOCK. Shylock is my name. + PORTIA. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow; + Yet in such rule that the Venetian law + Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. + You stand within his danger, do you not? + ANTONIO. Ay, so he says. + PORTIA. Do you confess the bond? + ANTONIO. I do. + PORTIA. Then must the Jew be merciful. + SHYLOCK. On what compulsion must I? Tell me that. + PORTIA. The quality of mercy is not strain'd; + It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven + Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: + It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes + The throned monarch better than his crown; + His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, + The attribute to awe and majesty, + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; + But mercy is above this sceptred sway, + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, + It is an attribute to God himself; + And earthly power doth then show likest God's + When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, + Though justice be thy plea, consider this- + That in the course of justice none of us + Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy, + And that same prayer doth teach us all to render + The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much + To mitigate the justice of thy plea, + Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice + Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. + SHYLOCK. My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, + The penalty and forfeit of my bond. + BASSANIO. Yes; here I tender it for him in the court; + Yea, twice the sum; if that will not suffice, + I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er + On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart; + If this will not suffice, it must appear + That malice bears down truth. And, I beseech you, + Wrest once the law to your authority; + To do a great right do a little wrong, + And curb this cruel devil of his will. + PORTIA. It must not be; there is no power in Venice + Can alter a decree established; + 'Twill be recorded for a precedent, + And many an error, by the same example, + Will rush into the state; it cannot be. + SHYLOCK. A Daniel come to judgment! Yea, a Daniel! + O wise young judge, how I do honour thee! + PORTIA. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. + SHYLOCK. Here 'tis, most reverend Doctor; here it is. + PORTIA. Shylock, there's thrice thy money off'red thee. + SHYLOCK. An oath, an oath! I have an oath in heaven. + Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? + No, not for Venice. + PORTIA. Why, this bond is forfeit; + And lawfully by this the Jew may claim + A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off + Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful. + Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond. + SHYLOCK. When it is paid according to the tenour. + It doth appear you are a worthy judge; + You know the law; your exposition + Hath been most sound; I charge you by the law, + Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, + Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear + There is no power in the tongue of man + To alter me. I stay here on my bond. + ANTONIO. Most heartily I do beseech the court + To give the judgment. + PORTIA. Why then, thus it is: + You must prepare your bosom for his knife. + SHYLOCK. O noble judge! O excellent young man! + PORTIA. For the intent and purpose of the law + Hath full relation to the penalty, + Which here appeareth due upon the bond. + SHYLOCK. 'Tis very true. O wise and upright judge, + How much more elder art thou than thy looks! + PORTIA. Therefore, lay bare your bosom. + SHYLOCK. Ay, his breast- + So says the bond; doth it not, noble judge? + 'Nearest his heart,' those are the very words. + PORTIA. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh + The flesh? + SHYLOCK. I have them ready. + PORTIA. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, + To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. + SHYLOCK. Is it so nominated in the bond? + PORTIA. It is not so express'd, but what of that? + 'Twere good you do so much for charity. + SHYLOCK. I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond. + PORTIA. You, merchant, have you anything to say? + ANTONIO. But little: I am arm'd and well prepar'd. + Give me your hand, Bassanio; fare you well. + Grieve not that I am fall'n to this for you, + For herein Fortune shows herself more kind + Than is her custom. It is still her use + To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, + To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow + An age of poverty; from which ling'ring penance + Of such misery doth she cut me off. + Commend me to your honourable wife; + Tell her the process of Antonio's end; + Say how I lov'd you; speak me fair in death; + And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge + Whether Bassanio had not once a love. + Repent but you that you shall lose your friend, + And he repents not that he pays your debt; + For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, + I'll pay it instantly with all my heart. + BASSANIO. Antonio, I am married to a wife + Which is as dear to me as life itself; + But life itself, my wife, and all the world, + Are not with me esteem'd above thy life; + I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all + Here to this devil, to deliver you. + PORTIA. Your wife would give you little thanks for that, + If she were by to hear you make the offer. + GRATIANO. I have a wife who I protest I love; + I would she were in heaven, so she could + Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. + NERISSA. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back; + The wish would make else an unquiet house. + SHYLOCK. [Aside] These be the Christian husbands! I have a + daughter- + Would any of the stock of Barrabas + Had been her husband, rather than a Christian!- + We trifle time; I pray thee pursue sentence. + PORTIA. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine. + The court awards it and the law doth give it. + SHYLOCK. Most rightful judge! + PORTIA. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast. + The law allows it and the court awards it. + SHYLOCK. Most learned judge! A sentence! Come, prepare. + PORTIA. Tarry a little; there is something else. + This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood: + The words expressly are 'a pound of flesh.' + Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh; + But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed + One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods + Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate + Unto the state of Venice. + GRATIANO. O upright judge! Mark, Jew. O learned judge! + SHYLOCK. Is that the law? + PORTIA. Thyself shalt see the act; + For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd + Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st. + GRATIANO. O learned judge! Mark, Jew. A learned judge! + SHYLOCK. I take this offer then: pay the bond thrice, + And let the Christian go. + BASSANIO. Here is the money. + PORTIA. Soft! + The Jew shall have all justice. Soft! No haste. + He shall have nothing but the penalty. + GRATIANO. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge! + PORTIA. Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh. + Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more + But just a pound of flesh; if thou tak'st more + Or less than a just pound- be it but so much + As makes it light or heavy in the substance, + Or the division of the twentieth part + Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn + But in the estimation of a hair- + Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. + GRATIANO. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew! + Now, infidel, I have you on the hip. + PORTIA. Why doth the Jew pause? Take thy forfeiture. + SHYLOCK. Give me my principal, and let me go. + BASSANIO. I have it ready for thee; here it is. + PORTIA. He hath refus'd it in the open court; + He shall have merely justice, and his bond. + GRATIANO. A Daniel still say I, a second Daniel! + I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. + SHYLOCK. Shall I not have barely my principal? + PORTIA. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture + To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. + SHYLOCK. Why, then the devil give him good of it! + I'll stay no longer question. + PORTIA. Tarry, Jew. + The law hath yet another hold on you. + It is enacted in the laws of Venice, + If it be proved against an alien + That by direct or indirect attempts + He seek the life of any citizen, + The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive + Shall seize one half his goods; the other half + Comes to the privy coffer of the state; + And the offender's life lies in the mercy + Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice. + In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st; + For it appears by manifest proceeding + That indirectly, and directly too, + Thou hast contrived against the very life + Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd + The danger formerly by me rehears'd. + Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke. + GRATIANO. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself; + And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, + Thou hast not left the value of a cord; + Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. + DUKE OF VENICE. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, + I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it. + For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's; + The other half comes to the general state, + Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. + PORTIA. Ay, for the state; not for Antonio. + SHYLOCK. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that. + You take my house when you do take the prop + That doth sustain my house; you take my life + When you do take the means whereby I live. + PORTIA. What mercy can you render him, Antonio? + GRATIANO. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake! + ANTONIO. So please my lord the Duke and all the court + To quit the fine for one half of his goods; + I am content, so he will let me have + The other half in use, to render it + Upon his death unto the gentleman + That lately stole his daughter- + Two things provided more; that, for this favour, + He presently become a Christian; + The other, that he do record a gift, + Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd + Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. + DUKE OF VENICE. He shall do this, or else I do recant + The pardon that I late pronounced here. + PORTIA. Art thou contented, Jew? What dost thou say? + SHYLOCK. I am content. + PORTIA. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. + SHYLOCK. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence; + I am not well; send the deed after me + And I will sign it. + DUKE OF VENICE. Get thee gone, but do it. + GRATIANO. In christ'ning shalt thou have two god-fathers; + Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, + To bring thee to the gallows, not to the font. + Exit SHYLOCK + DUKE OF VENICE. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. + PORTIA. I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon; + I must away this night toward Padua, + And it is meet I presently set forth. + DUKE OF VENICE. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. + Antonio, gratify this gentleman, + For in my mind you are much bound to him. + Exeunt DUKE, MAGNIFICOES, and train + BASSANIO. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend + Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted + Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof + Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, + We freely cope your courteous pains withal. + ANTONIO. And stand indebted, over and above, + In love and service to you evermore. + PORTIA. He is well paid that is well satisfied, + And I, delivering you, am satisfied, + And therein do account myself well paid. + My mind was never yet more mercenary. + I pray you, know me when we meet again; + I wish you well, and so I take my leave. + BASSANIO. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further; + Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, + Not as fee. Grant me two things, I pray you, + Not to deny me, and to pardon me. + PORTIA. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. + [To ANTONIO] Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake. + [To BASSANIO] And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you. + Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more, + And you in love shall not deny me this. + BASSANIO. This ring, good sir- alas, it is a trifle; + I will not shame myself to give you this. + PORTIA. I will have nothing else but only this; + And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. + BASSANIO.. There's more depends on this than on the value. + The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, + And find it out by proclamation; + Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. + PORTIA. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers; + You taught me first to beg, and now, methinks, + You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. + BASSANIO. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; + And, when she put it on, she made me vow + That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. + PORTIA. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. + And if your wife be not a mad woman, + And know how well I have deserv'd this ring, + She would not hold out enemy for ever + For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you! + Exeunt PORTIA and NERISSA + ANTONIO. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring. + Let his deservings, and my love withal, + Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. + BASSANIO. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him; + Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst, + Unto Antonio's house. Away, make haste. Exit GRATIANO + Come, you and I will thither presently; + And in the morning early will we both + Fly toward Belmont. Come, Antonio. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Venice. A street + +Enter PORTIA and NERISSA + + PORTIA. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed, + And let him sign it; we'll away tonight, + And be a day before our husbands home. + This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. + + Enter GRATIANO + + GRATIANO. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en. + My Lord Bassanio, upon more advice, + Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat + Your company at dinner. + PORTIA. That cannot be. + His ring I do accept most thankfully, + And so, I pray you, tell him. Furthermore, + I pray you show my youth old Shylock's house. + GRATIANO. That will I do. + NERISSA. Sir, I would speak with you. + [Aside to PORTIA] I'll See if I can get my husband's ring, + Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. + PORTIA. [To NERISSA] Thou Mayst, I warrant. We shall have old + swearing + That they did give the rings away to men; + But we'll outface them, and outswear them too. + [Aloud] Away, make haste, thou know'st where I will tarry. + NERISSA. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house? + Exeunt + + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Belmont. The garden before PORTIA'S house + +Enter LORENZO and JESSICA + + LORENZO. The moon shines bright. In such a night as this, + When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, + And they did make no noise- in such a night, + Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls, + And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, + Where Cressid lay that night. + JESSICA. In such a night + Did Thisby fearfully o'ertrip the dew, + And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, + And ran dismayed away. + LORENZO. In such a night + Stood Dido with a willow in her hand + Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love + To come again to Carthage. + JESSICA. In such a night + Medea gathered the enchanted herbs + That did renew old AEson. + LORENZO. In such a night + Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, + And with an unthrift love did run from Venice + As far as Belmont. + JESSICA. In such a night + Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well, + Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, + And ne'er a true one. + LORENZO. In such a night + Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, + Slander her love, and he forgave it her. + JESSICA. I would out-night you, did no body come; + But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. + + Enter STEPHANO + + LORENZO. Who comes so fast in silence of the night? + STEPHANO. A friend. + LORENZO. A friend! What friend? Your name, I pray you, friend? + STEPHANO. Stephano is my name, and I bring word + My mistress will before the break of day + Be here at Belmont; she doth stray about + By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays + For happy wedlock hours. + LORENZO. Who comes with her? + STEPHANO. None but a holy hermit and her maid. + I pray you, is my master yet return'd? + LORENZO. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. + But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, + And ceremoniously let us prepare + Some welcome for the mistress of the house. + + Enter LAUNCELOT + + LAUNCELOT. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola! + LORENZO. Who calls? + LAUNCELOT. Sola! Did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo! Sola, + sola! + LORENZO. Leave holloaing, man. Here! + LAUNCELOT. Sola! Where, where? + LORENZO. Here! + LAUNCELOT. Tell him there's a post come from my master with his + horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning. + Exit + LORENZO. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming. + And yet no matter- why should we go in? + My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, + Within the house, your mistress is at hand; + And bring your music forth into the air. Exit STEPHANO + How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! + Here will we sit and let the sounds of music + Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night + Become the touches of sweet harmony. + Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven + Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; + There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st + But in his motion like an angel sings, + Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins; + Such harmony is in immortal souls, + But whilst this muddy vesture of decay + Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. + + Enter MUSICIANS + + Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; + With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear. + And draw her home with music. [Music] + JESSICA. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. + LORENZO. The reason is your spirits are attentive; + For do but note a wild and wanton herd, + Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, + Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, + Which is the hot condition of their blood- + If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, + Or any air of music touch their ears, + You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, + Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze + By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet + Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; + Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, + But music for the time doth change his nature. + The man that hath no music in himself, + Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, + Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; + The motions of his spirit are dull:as night, + And his affections dark as Erebus. + Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. + + Enter PORTIA and NERISSA + + PORTIA. That light we see is burning in my hall. + How far that little candle throws his beams! + So shines a good deed in a naughty world. + NERISSA. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. + PORTIA. So doth the greater glory dim the less: + A substitute shines brightly as a king + Until a king be by, and then his state + Empties itself, as doth an inland brook + Into the main of waters. Music! hark! + NERISSA. It is your music, madam, of the house. + PORTIA. Nothing is good, I see, without respect; + Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. + NERISSA. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. + PORTIA. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark + When neither is attended; and I think + ne nightingale, if she should sing by day, + When every goose is cackling, would be thought + No better a musician than the wren. + How many things by season season'd are + To their right praise and true perfection! + Peace, ho! The moon sleeps with Endymion, + And would not be awak'd. [Music ceases] + LORENZO. That is the voice, + Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. + PORTIA. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, + By the bad voice. + LORENZO. Dear lady, welcome home. + PORTIA. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, + Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. + Are they return'd? + LORENZO. Madam, they are not yet; + But there is come a messenger before, + To signify their coming. + PORTIA.. Go in, Nerissa; + Give order to my servants that they take + No note at all of our being absent hence; + Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. [A tucket sounds] + LORENZO. Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet. + We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not. + PORTIA. This night methinks is but the daylight sick; + It looks a little paler; 'tis a day + Such as the day is when the sun is hid. + + Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their followers + + BASSANIO. We should hold day with the Antipodes, + If you would walk in absence of the sun. + PORTIA. Let me give light, but let me not be light, + For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, + And never be Bassanio so for me; + But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord. + BASSANIO. I thank you, madam; give welcome to my friend. + This is the man, this is Antonio, + To whom I am so infinitely bound. + PORTIA. You should in all sense be much bound to him, + For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. + ANTONIO. No more than I am well acquitted of. + PORTIA. Sir, you are very welcome to our house. + It must appear in other ways than words, + Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. + GRATIANO. [To NERISSA] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong; + In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. + Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, + Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. + PORTIA. A quarrel, ho, already! What's the matter? + GRATIANO. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring + That she did give me, whose posy was + For all the world like cutler's poetry + Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.' + NERISSA. What talk you of the posy or the value? + You swore to me, when I did give it you, + That you would wear it till your hour of death, + And that it should lie with you in your grave; + Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, + You should have been respective and have kept it. + Gave it a judge's clerk! No, God's my judge, + The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it. + GRATIANO. He will, an if he live to be a man. + NERISSA. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. + GRATIANO. Now by this hand I gave it to a youth, + A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy + No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk; + A prating boy that begg'd it as a fee; + I could not for my heart deny it him. + PORTIA. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, + To part so slightly with your wife's first gift, + A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger + And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. + I gave my love a ring, and made him swear + Never to part with it, and here he stands; + I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it + Nor pluck it from his finger for the wealth + That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, + You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; + An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. + BASSANIO. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, + And swear I lost the ring defending it. + GRATIANO. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away + Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed + Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, + That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine; + And neither man nor master would take aught + But the two rings. + PORTIA. What ring gave you, my lord? + Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. + BASSANIO. If I could add a lie unto a fault, + I would deny it; but you see my finger + Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone. + PORTIA. Even so void is your false heart of truth; + By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed + Until I see the ring. + NERISSA. Nor I in yours + Till I again see mine. + BASSANIO. Sweet Portia, + If you did know to whom I gave the ring, + If you did know for whom I gave the ring, + And would conceive for what I gave the ring, + And how unwillingly I left the ring, + When nought would be accepted but the ring, + You would abate the strength of your displeasure. + PORTIA. If you had known the virtue of the ring, + Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, + Or your own honour to contain the ring, + You would not then have parted with the ring. + What man is there so much unreasonable, + If you had pleas'd to have defended it + With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty + To urge the thing held as a ceremony? + Nerissa teaches me what to believe: + I'll die for't but some woman had the ring. + BASSANIO. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, + No woman had it, but a civil doctor, + Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, + And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, + And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away- + Even he that had held up the very life + Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? + I was enforc'd to send it after him; + I was beset with shame and courtesy; + My honour would not let ingratitude + So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady; + For by these blessed candles of the night, + Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd + The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. + PORTIA. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house; + Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, + And that which you did swear to keep for me, + I will become as liberal as you; + I'll not deny him anything I have, + No, not my body, nor my husband's bed. + Know him I shall, I am well sure of it. + Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus; + If you do not, if I be left alone, + Now, by mine honour which is yet mine own, + I'll have that doctor for mine bedfellow. + NERISSA. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd + How you do leave me to mine own protection. + GRATIANO. Well, do you so, let not me take him then; + For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. + ANTONIO. I am th' unhappy subject of these quarrels. + PORTIA. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome not withstanding. + BASSANIO. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; + And in the hearing of these many friends + I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, + Wherein I see myself- + PORTIA. Mark you but that! + In both my eyes he doubly sees himself, + In each eye one; swear by your double self, + And there's an oath of credit. + BASSANIO. Nay, but hear me. + Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear + I never more will break an oath with thee. + ANTONIO. I once did lend my body for his wealth, + Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, + Had quite miscarried; I dare be bound again, + My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord + Will never more break faith advisedly. + PORTIA. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, + And bid him keep it better than the other. + ANTONIO. Here, Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring. + BASSANIO. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! + PORTIA. I had it of him. Pardon me, Bassanio, + For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me. + NERISSA. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano, + For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, + In lieu of this, last night did lie with me. + GRATIANO. Why, this is like the mending of highways + In summer, where the ways are fair enough. + What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserv'd it? + PORTIA. Speak not so grossly. You are all amaz'd. + Here is a letter; read it at your leisure; + It comes from Padua, from Bellario; + There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, + Nerissa there her clerk. Lorenzo here + Shall witness I set forth as soon as you, + And even but now return'd; I have not yet + Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome; + And I have better news in store for you + Than you expect. Unseal this letter soon; + There you shall find three of your argosies + Are richly come to harbour suddenly. + You shall not know by what strange accident + I chanced on this letter. + ANTONIO. I am dumb. + BASSANIO. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not? + GRATIANO. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold? + NERISSA. Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it, + Unless he live until he be a man. + BASSANIO. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow; + When I am absent, then lie with my wife. + ANTONIO. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; + For here I read for certain that my ships + Are safely come to road. + PORTIA. How now, Lorenzo! + My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. + NERISSA. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. + There do I give to you and Jessica, + From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, + After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. + LORENZO. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way + Of starved people. + PORTIA. It is almost morning, + And yet I am sure you are not satisfied + Of these events at full. Let us go in, + And charge us there upon inter'gatories, + And we will answer all things faithfully. + GRATIANO. Let it be so. The first inter'gatory + That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is, + Whether till the next night she had rather stay, + Or go to bed now, being two hours to day. + But were the day come, I should wish it dark, + Till I were couching with the doctor's clerk. + Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing + So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1601 + +THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + SIR JOHN FALSTAFF + FENTON, a young gentleman + SHALLOW, a country justice + SLENDER, cousin to Shallow + + Gentlemen of Windsor + FORD + PAGE + WILLIAM PAGE, a boy, son to Page + SIR HUGH EVANS, a Welsh parson + DOCTOR CAIUS, a French physician + HOST of the Garter Inn + + Followers of Falstaff + BARDOLPH + PISTOL + NYM + ROBIN, page to Falstaff + SIMPLE, servant to Slender + RUGBY, servant to Doctor Caius + + MISTRESS FORD + MISTRESS PAGE + MISTRESS ANNE PAGE, her daughter + MISTRESS QUICKLY, servant to Doctor Caius + SERVANTS to Page, Ford, etc. + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +Windsor, and the neighbourhood + + +The Merry Wives of Windsor + + + +ACT I. SCENE 1. + +Windsor. Before PAGE'S house + +Enter JUSTICE SHALLOW, SLENDER, and SIR HUGH EVANS + + SHALLOW. Sir Hugh, persuade me not; I will make a Star + Chamber matter of it; if he were twenty Sir John Falstaffs, + he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, esquire. + SLENDER. In the county of Gloucester, Justice of Peace, and + Coram. + SHALLOW. Ay, cousin Slender, and Custalorum. + SLENDER. Ay, and Ratolorum too; and a gentleman born, + Master Parson, who writes himself 'Armigero' in any bill, + warrant, quittance, or obligation-'Armigero.' + SHALLOW. Ay, that I do; and have done any time these three + hundred years. + SLENDER. All his successors, gone before him, hath done't; + and all his ancestors, that come after him, may: they may + give the dozen white luces in their coat. + SHALLOW. It is an old coat. + EVANS. The dozen white louses do become an old coat well; + it agrees well, passant; it is a familiar beast to man, and + signifies love. + SHALLOW. The luce is the fresh fish; the salt fish is an old + coat. + SLENDER. I may quarter, coz. + SHALLOW. You may, by marrying. + EVANS. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it. + SHALLOW. Not a whit. + EVANS. Yes, py'r lady! If he has a quarter of your coat, there + is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple conjectures; + but that is all one. If Sir John Falstaff have committed + disparagements unto you, I am of the church, and will be + glad to do my benevolence, to make atonements and + compremises between you. + SHALLOW. The Council shall hear it; it is a riot. + EVANS. It is not meet the Council hear a riot; there is no + fear of Got in a riot; the Council, look you, shall desire + to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot; take your + vizaments in that. + SHALLOW. Ha! o' my life, if I were young again, the sword + should end it. + EVANS. It is petter that friends is the sword and end it; + and there is also another device in my prain, which + peradventure prings goot discretions with it. There is Anne + Page, which is daughter to Master George Page, which is + pretty virginity. + SLENDER. Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair, and + speaks small like a woman. + EVANS. It is that fery person for all the orld, as just as you + will desire; and seven hundred pounds of moneys, and + gold, and silver, is her grandsire upon his death's-bed-Got + deliver to a joyful resurrections!-give, when she is able to + overtake seventeen years old. It were a goot motion if we + leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage + between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page. + SHALLOW. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound? + EVANS. Ay, and her father is make her a petter penny. + SHALLOW. I know the young gentlewoman; she has good + gifts. + EVANS. Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities, is goot gifts. + SHALLOW. Well, let us see honest Master Page. Is Falstaff + there? + EVANS. Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a liar as I do + despise one that is false; or as I despise one that is not + true. The knight Sir John is there; and, I beseech you, be + ruled by your well-willers. I will peat the door for Master + Page. + [Knocks] What, hoa! Got pless your house here! + PAGE. [Within] Who's there? + + Enter PAGE + + EVANS. Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and Justice + Shallow; and here young Master Slender, that peradventures + shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to your + likings. + PAGE. I am glad to see your worships well. I thank you for + my venison, Master Shallow. + SHALLOW. Master Page, I am glad to see you; much good do + it your good heart! I wish'd your venison better; it was ill + kill'd. How doth good Mistress Page?-and I thank you + always with my heart, la! with my heart. + PAGE. Sir, I thank you. + SHALLOW. Sir, I thank you; by yea and no, I do. + PAGE. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender. + SLENDER. How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard say + he was outrun on Cotsall. + PAGE. It could not be judg'd, sir. + SLENDER. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. + SHALLOW. That he will not. 'Tis your fault; 'tis your fault; + 'tis a good dog. + PAGE. A cur, sir. + SHALLOW. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog. Can there be + more said? He is good, and fair. Is Sir John Falstaff here? + PAGE. Sir, he is within; and I would I could do a good office + between you. + EVANS. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak. + SHALLOW. He hath wrong'd me, Master Page. + PAGE. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. + SHALLOW. If it be confessed, it is not redressed; is not that + so, Master Page? He hath wrong'd me; indeed he hath; at a + word, he hath, believe me; Robert Shallow, esquire, saith + he is wronged. + PAGE. Here comes Sir John. + + Enter SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, NYM, and PISTOL + + FALSTAFF. Now, Master Shallow, you'll complain of me to + the King? + SHALLOW. Knight, you have beaten my men, kill'd my deer, + and broke open my lodge. + FALSTAFF. But not kiss'd your keeper's daughter. + SHALLOW. Tut, a pin! this shall be answer'd. + FALSTAFF. I will answer it straight: I have done all this. + That is now answer'd. + SHALLOW. The Council shall know this. + FALSTAFF. 'Twere better for you if it were known in counsel: + you'll be laugh'd at. + EVANS. Pauca verba, Sir John; goot worts. + FALSTAFF. Good worts! good cabbage! Slender, I broke your + head; what matter have you against me? + SLENDER. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you; + and against your cony-catching rascals, Bardolph, Nym, + and Pistol. They carried me to the tavern, and made me + drunk, and afterwards pick'd my pocket. + BARDOLPH. You Banbury cheese! + SLENDER. Ay, it is no matter. + PISTOL. How now, Mephostophilus! + SLENDER. Ay, it is no matter. + NYM. Slice, I say! pauca, pauca; slice! That's my humour. + SLENDER. Where's Simple, my man? Can you tell, cousin? + EVANS. Peace, I pray you. Now let us understand. There is + three umpires in this matter, as I understand: that is, + Master Page, fidelicet Master Page; and there is myself, + fidelicet myself; and the three party is, lastly and + finally, mine host of the Garter. + PAGE. We three to hear it and end it between them. + EVANS. Fery goot. I will make a prief of it in my note-book; + and we will afterwards ork upon the cause with as great + discreetly as we can. + FALSTAFF. Pistol! + PISTOL. He hears with ears. + EVANS. The tevil and his tam! What phrase is this, 'He hears + with ear'? Why, it is affectations. + FALSTAFF. Pistol, did you pick Master Slender's purse? + SLENDER. Ay, by these gloves, did he-or I would I might + never come in mine own great chamber again else!-of + seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two Edward + shovel-boards that cost me two shilling and two pence apiece + of Yead Miller, by these gloves. + FALSTAFF. Is this true, Pistol? + EVANS. No, it is false, if it is a pick-purse. + PISTOL. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner! Sir John and master + mine, + I combat challenge of this latten bilbo. + Word of denial in thy labras here! + Word of denial! Froth and scum, thou liest. + SLENDER. By these gloves, then, 'twas he. + NYM. Be avis'd, sir, and pass good humours; I will say + 'marry trap' with you, if you run the nuthook's humour on + me; that is the very note of it. + SLENDER. By this hat, then, he in the red face had it; for + though I cannot remember what I did when you made me + drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass. + FALSTAFF. What say you, Scarlet and John? + BARDOLPH. Why, sir, for my part, I say the gentleman had + drunk himself out of his five sentences. + EVANS. It is his five senses; fie, what the ignorance is! + BARDOLPH. And being fap, sir, was, as they say, cashier'd; + and so conclusions pass'd the careers. + SLENDER. Ay, you spake in Latin then too; but 'tis no matter; + I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again, but in honest, + civil, godly company, for this trick. If I be drunk, I'll be + drunk with those that have the fear of God, and not with + drunken knaves. + EVANS. So Got udge me, that is a virtuous mind. + FALSTAFF. You hear all these matters deni'd, gentlemen; you + hear it. + + Enter MISTRESS ANNE PAGE with wine; MISTRESS + FORD and MISTRESS PAGE, following + + PAGE. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in; we'll drink within. + Exit ANNE PAGE + SLENDER. O heaven! this is Mistress Anne Page. + PAGE. How now, Mistress Ford! + FALSTAFF. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well + met; by your leave, good mistress. [Kisses her] + PAGE. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome. Come, we have a + hot venison pasty to dinner; come, gentlemen, I hope we + shall drink down all unkindness. + Exeunt all but SHALLOW, SLENDER, and EVANS + SLENDER. I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of + Songs and Sonnets here. + + Enter SIMPLE + + How, Simple! Where have you been? I must wait on + myself, must I? You have not the Book of Riddles about you, + have you? + SIMPLE. Book of Riddles! Why, did you not lend it to Alice + Shortcake upon Allhallowmas last, a fortnight afore + Michaelmas? + SHALLOW. Come, coz; come, coz; we stay for you. A word + with you, coz; marry, this, coz: there is, as 'twere, a + tender, a kind of tender, made afar off by Sir Hugh here. Do + you understand me? + SLENDER. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable; if it be so, I + shall do that that is reason. + SHALLOW. Nay, but understand me. + SLENDER. So I do, sir. + EVANS. Give ear to his motions: Master Slender, I will + description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it. + SLENDER. Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow says; I pray + you pardon me; he's a justice of peace in his country, + simple though I stand here. + EVANS. But that is not the question. The question is + concerning your marriage. + SHALLOW. Ay, there's the point, sir. + EVANS. Marry is it; the very point of it; to Mistress Anne + Page. + SLENDER. Why, if it be so, I will marry her upon any + reasonable demands. + EVANS. But can you affection the oman? Let us command to + know that of your mouth or of your lips; for divers philosophers + hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth. Therefore, + precisely, can you carry your good will to the maid? + SHALLOW. Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her? + SLENDER. I hope, sir, I will do as it shall become one that + would do reason. + EVANS. Nay, Got's lords and his ladies! you must speak possitable, + if you can carry her your desires towards her. + SHALLOW. That you must. Will you, upon good dowry, + marry her? + SLENDER. I will do a greater thing than that upon your request, + cousin, in any reason. + SHALLOW. Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet coz; what + I do is to pleasure you, coz. Can you love the maid? + SLENDER. I will marry her, sir, at your request; but if there + be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease + it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and + have more occasion to know one another. I hope upon + familiarity will grow more contempt. But if you say + 'marry her,' I will marry her; that I am freely dissolved, + and dissolutely. + EVANS. It is a fery discretion answer, save the fall is in the + ord 'dissolutely': the ort is, according to our meaning, + 'resolutely'; his meaning is good. + SHALLOW. Ay, I think my cousin meant well. + SLENDER. Ay, or else I would I might be hang'd, la! + + Re-enter ANNE PAGE + + SHALLOW. Here comes fair Mistress Anne. Would I were + young for your sake, Mistress Anne! + ANNE. The dinner is on the table; my father desires your + worships' company. + SHALLOW. I will wait on him, fair Mistress Anne! + EVANS. Od's plessed will! I will not be absence at the grace. + Exeunt SHALLOW and EVANS + ANNE. Will't please your worship to come in, sir? + SLENDER. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily; I am very + well. + ANNE. The dinner attends you, sir. + SLENDER. I am not a-hungry, I thank you, forsooth. Go, + sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait upon my cousin + Shallow. [Exit SIMPLE] A justice of peace sometime may + be beholding to his friend for a man. I keep but three men + and a boy yet, till my mother be dead. But what though? + Yet I live like a poor gentleman born. + ANNE. I may not go in without your worship; they will not + sit till you come. + SLENDER. I' faith, I'll eat nothing; I thank you as much as + though I did. + ANNE. I pray you, sir, walk in. + SLENDER. I had rather walk here, I thank you. I bruis'd my + shin th' other day with playing at sword and dagger with + a master of fence-three veneys for a dish of stew'd prunes + -and, I with my ward defending my head, he hot my shin, + and, by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meat + since. Why do your dogs bark so? Be there bears i' th' + town? + ANNE. I think there are, sir; I heard them talk'd of. + SLENDER. I love the sport well; but I shall as soon quarrel at + it as any man in England. You are afraid, if you see the + bear loose, are you not? + ANNE. Ay, indeed, sir. + SLENDER. That's meat and drink to me now. I have seen + Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the + chain; but I warrant you, the women have so cried and + shriek'd at it that it pass'd; but women, indeed, cannot + abide 'em; they are very ill-favour'd rough things. + + Re-enter PAGE + + PAGE. Come, gentle Master Slender, come; we stay for you. + SLENDER. I'll eat nothing, I thank you, sir. + PAGE. By cock and pie, you shall not choose, sir! Come, + come. + SLENDER. Nay, pray you lead the way. + PAGE. Come on, sir. + SLENDER. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. + ANNE. Not I, sir; pray you keep on. + SLENDER. Truly, I will not go first; truly, la! I will not do + you that wrong. + ANNE. I pray you, sir. + SLENDER. I'll rather be unmannerly than troublesome. You + do yourself wrong indeed, la! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. + +Before PAGE'S house + +Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE + + EVANS. Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Caius' house which + is the way; and there dwells one Mistress Quickly, which + is in the manner of his nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook, + or his laundry, his washer, and his wringer. + SIMPLE. Well, sir. + EVANS. Nay, it is petter yet. Give her this letter; for it is a + oman that altogether's acquaintance with Mistress Anne + Page; and the letter is to desire and require her to solicit + your master's desires to Mistress Anne Page. I pray you + be gone. I will make an end of my dinner; there's pippins + and cheese to come. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +The Garter Inn + +Enter FALSTAFF, HOST, BARDOLPH, NYM, PISTOL, and ROBIN + + FALSTAFF. Mine host of the Garter! + HOST. What says my bully rook? Speak scholarly and + wisely. + FALSTAFF. Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of my + followers. + HOST. Discard, bully Hercules; cashier; let them wag; trot, + trot. + FALSTAFF. I sit at ten pounds a week. + HOST. Thou'rt an emperor-Caesar, Keiser, and Pheazar. I + will entertain Bardolph; he shall draw, he shall tap; said I + well, bully Hector? + FALSTAFF. Do so, good mine host. + HOST. I have spoke; let him follow. [To BARDOLPH] Let me + see thee froth and lime. I am at a word; follow. Exit HOST + FALSTAFF. Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade; + an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a wither'd serving-man a + fresh tapster. Go; adieu. + BARDOLPH. It is a life that I have desir'd; I will thrive. + PISTOL. O base Hungarian wight! Wilt thou the spigot + wield? Exit BARDOLPH + NYM. He was gotten in drink. Is not the humour conceited? + FALSTAFF. I am glad I am so acquit of this tinder-box: his + thefts were too open; his filching was like an unskilful + singer-he kept not time. + NYM. The good humour is to steal at a minute's rest. + PISTOL. 'Convey' the wise it call. 'Steal' foh! A fico for the + phrase! + FALSTAFF. Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. + PISTOL. Why, then, let kibes ensue. + FALSTAFF. There is no remedy; I must cony-catch; I must + shift. + PISTOL. Young ravens must have food. + FALSTAFF. Which of you know Ford of this town? + PISTOL. I ken the wight; he is of substance good. + FALSTAFF. My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about. + PISTOL. Two yards, and more. + FALSTAFF. No quips now, Pistol. Indeed, I am in the waist + two yards about; but I am now about no waste; I am about + thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford's wife; I + spy entertainment in her; she discourses, she carves, she + gives the leer of invitation; I can construe the action of her + familiar style; and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be + English'd rightly, is 'I am Sir John Falstaff's.' + PISTOL. He hath studied her well, and translated her will out + of honesty into English. + NYM. The anchor is deep; will that humour pass? + FALSTAFF. Now, the report goes she has all the rule of her + husband's purse; he hath a legion of angels. + PISTOL. As many devils entertain; and 'To her, boy,' say I. + NYM. The humour rises; it is good; humour me the angels. + FALSTAFF. I have writ me here a letter to her; and here + another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good eyes + too, examin'd my parts with most judicious oeillades; + sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my + portly belly. + PISTOL. Then did the sun on dunghill shine. + NYM. I thank thee for that humour. + FALSTAFF. O, she did so course o'er my exteriors with such + a greedy intention that the appetite of her eye did seem to + scorch me up like a burning-glass! Here's another letter to + her. She bears the purse too; she is a region in Guiana, all + gold and bounty. I will be cheaters to them both, and they + shall be exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West + Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go, bear thou this + letter to Mistress Page; and thou this to Mistress Ford. We + will thrive, lads, we will thrive. + PISTOL. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, + And by my side wear steel? Then Lucifer take all! + NYM. I will run no base humour. Here, take the + humour-letter; I will keep the haviour of reputation. + FALSTAFF. [To ROBIN] Hold, sirrah; bear you these letters + tightly; + Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. + Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hailstones, go; + Trudge, plod away i' th' hoof; seek shelter, pack! + Falstaff will learn the humour of the age; + French thrift, you rogues; myself, and skirted page. + Exeunt FALSTAFF and ROBIN + PISTOL. Let vultures gripe thy guts! for gourd and fullam + holds, + And high and low beguiles the rich and poor; + Tester I'll have in pouch when thou shalt lack, + Base Phrygian Turk! + NYM. I have operations in my head which be humours of + revenge. + PISTOL. Wilt thou revenge? + NYM. By welkin and her star! + PISTOL. With wit or steel? + NYM. With both the humours, I. + I will discuss the humour of this love to Page. + PISTOL. And I to Ford shall eke unfold + How Falstaff, varlet vile, + His dove will prove, his gold will hold, + And his soft couch defile. + NYM. My humour shall not cool; I will incense Page to deal + with poison; I will possess him with yellowness; for the + revolt of mine is dangerous. That is my true humour. + PISTOL. Thou art the Mars of malcontents; I second thee; + troop on. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +DOCTOR CAIUS'S house + +Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY, SIMPLE, and RUGBY + + QUICKLY. What, John Rugby! I pray thee go to the casement + and see if you can see my master, Master Doctor + Caius, coming. If he do, i' faith, and find anybody in the + house, here will be an old abusing of God's patience and + the King's English. + RUGBY. I'll go watch. + QUICKLY. Go; and we'll have a posset for't soon at night, in + faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire. [Exit RUGBY] An + honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant shall come in + house withal; and, I warrant you, no tell-tale nor no + breed-bate; his worst fault is that he is given to prayer; he is + something peevish that way; but nobody but has his fault; + but let that pass. Peter Simple you say your name is? + SIMPLE. Ay, for fault of a better. + QUICKLY. And Master Slender's your master? + SIMPLE. Ay, forsooth. + QUICKLY. Does he not wear a great round beard, like a + glover's paring-knife? + SIMPLE. No, forsooth; he hath but a little whey face, with a + little yellow beard, a Cain-colour'd beard. + QUICKLY. A softly-sprighted man, is he not? + SIMPLE. Ay, forsooth; but he is as tall a man of his hands as + any is between this and his head; he hath fought with a + warrener. + QUICKLY. How say you? O, I should remember him. Does + he not hold up his head, as it were, and strut in his gait? + SIMPLE. Yes, indeed, does he. + QUICKLY. Well, heaven send Anne Page no worse fortune! + Tell Master Parson Evans I will do what I can for your + master. Anne is a good girl, and I wish- + + Re-enter RUGBY + + RUGBY. Out, alas! here comes my master. + QUICKLY. We shall all be shent. Run in here, good young + man; go into this closet. [Shuts SIMPLE in the closet] He + will not stay long. What, John Rugby! John! what, John, + I say! Go, John, go inquire for my master; I doubt he be + not well that he comes not home. [Singing] + And down, down, adown-a, etc. + + Enter DOCTOR CAIUS + + CAIUS. Vat is you sing? I do not like des toys. Pray you, go + and vetch me in my closet un boitier vert-a box, a green-a + box. Do intend vat I speak? A green-a box. + QUICKLY. Ay, forsooth, I'll fetch it you. [Aside] I am glad + he went not in himself; if he had found the young man, + he would have been horn-mad. + CAIUS. Fe, fe, fe fe! ma foi, il fait fort chaud. Je m'en vais a + la cour-la grande affaire. + QUICKLY. Is it this, sir? + CAIUS. Oui; mette le au mon pocket: depeche, quickly. Vere + is dat knave, Rugby? + QUICKLY. What, John Rugby? John! + RUGBY. Here, sir. + CAIUS. You are John Rugby, and you are Jack Rugby. + Come, take-a your rapier, and come after my heel to the + court. + RUGBY. 'Tis ready, sir, here in the porch. + CAIUS. By my trot, I tarry too long. Od's me! Qu'ai j'oublie? + Dere is some simples in my closet dat I vill not for the + varld I shall leave behind. + QUICKLY. Ay me, he'll find the young man there, and be + mad! + CAIUS. O diable, diable! vat is in my closet? Villainy! larron! + [Pulling SIMPLE out] Rugby, my rapier! + QUICKLY. Good master, be content. + CAIUS. Wherefore shall I be content-a? + QUICKLY. The young man is an honest man. + CAIUS. What shall de honest man do in my closet? Dere is + no honest man dat shall come in my closet. + QUICKLY. I beseech you, be not so phlegmatic; hear the + truth of it. He came of an errand to me from Parson Hugh. + CAIUS. Vell? + SIMPLE. Ay, forsooth, to desire her to- + QUICKLY. Peace, I pray you. + CAIUS. Peace-a your tongue. Speak-a your tale. + SIMPLE. To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to + speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my master, + in the way of marriage. + QUICKLY. This is all, indeed, la! but I'll ne'er put my finger + in the fire, and need not. + CAIUS. Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, baillez me some paper. + Tarry you a little-a-while. [Writes] + QUICKLY. [Aside to SIMPLE] I am glad he is so quiet; if he + had been throughly moved, you should have heard him + so loud and so melancholy. But notwithstanding, man, I'll + do you your master what good I can; and the very yea and + the no is, the French doctor, my master-I may call him + my master, look you, for I keep his house; and I wash, + wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make the + beds, and do all myself- + SIMPLE. [Aside to QUICKLY] 'Tis a great charge to come + under one body's hand. + QUICKLY. [Aside to SIMPLE] Are you avis'd o' that? You + shall find it a great charge; and to be up early and down + late; but notwithstanding-to tell you in your ear, I would + have no words of it-my master himself is in love with + Mistress Anne Page; but notwithstanding that, I know + Anne's mind-that's neither here nor there. + CAIUS. You jack'nape; give-a this letter to Sir Hugh; by gar, + it is a shallenge; I will cut his troat in de park; and I will + teach a scurvy jack-a-nape priest to meddle or make. You + may be gone; it is not good you tarry here. By gar, I will + cut all his two stones; by gar, he shall not have a stone + to throw at his dog. Exit SIMPLE + QUICKLY. Alas, he speaks but for his friend. + CAIUS. It is no matter-a ver dat. Do not you tell-a me dat I + shall have Anne Page for myself? By gar, I vill kill de Jack + priest; and I have appointed mine host of de Jarteer to + measure our weapon. By gar, I will myself have Anne + Page. + QUICKLY. Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be well. We + must give folks leave to prate. What the good-year! + CAIUS. Rugby, come to the court with me. By gar, if I have + not Anne Page, I shall turn your head out of my door. + Follow my heels, Rugby. Exeunt CAIUS and RUGBY + QUICKLY. You shall have-An fool's-head of your own. No, + I know Anne's mind for that; never a woman in Windsor + knows more of Anne's mind than I do; nor can do more + than I do with her, I thank heaven. + FENTON. [Within] Who's within there? ho! + QUICKLY. Who's there, I trow? Come near the house, I pray + you. + + Enter FENTON + + FENTON. How now, good woman, how dost thou? + QUICKLY. The better that it pleases your good worship to + ask. + FENTON. What news? How does pretty Mistress Anne? + QUICKLY. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and + gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by + the way; I praise heaven for it. + FENTON. Shall I do any good, think'st thou? Shall I not lose + my suit? + QUICKLY. Troth, sir, all is in His hands above; but + notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a book + she loves you. Have not your worship a wart above your eye? + FENTON. Yes, marry, have I; what of that? + QUICKLY. Well, thereby hangs a tale; good faith, it is such + another Nan; but, I detest, an honest maid as ever broke + bread. We had an hour's talk of that wart; I shall never + laugh but in that maid's company! But, indeed, she is + given too much to allicholy and musing; but for you-well, + go to. + FENTON. Well, I shall see her to-day. Hold, there's money + for thee; let me have thy voice in my behalf. If thou seest + her before me, commend me. + QUICKLY. Will I? I' faith, that we will; and I will tell your + worship more of the wart the next time we have confidence; + and of other wooers. + FENTON. Well, farewell; I am in great haste now. + QUICKLY. Farewell to your worship. [Exit FENTON] Truly, + an honest gentleman; but Anne loves him not; for I know + Anne's mind as well as another does. Out upon 't, what + have I forgot? Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE 1. + +Before PAGE'S house + +Enter MISTRESS PAGE, with a letter + + MRS. PAGE. What! have I scap'd love-letters in the holiday-time + of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them? Let + me see. [Reads] + 'Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use + Reason for his precisian, he admits him not for his counsellor. + You are not young, no more am I; go to, then, there's + sympathy. You are merry, so am I; ha! ha! then there's + more sympathy. You love sack, and so do I; would you + desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page + at the least, if the love of soldier can suffice-that I love + thee. I will not say, Pity me: 'tis not a soldier-like phrase; + but I say, Love me. By me, + Thine own true knight, + By day or night, + Or any kind of light, + With all his might, + For thee to fight, + JOHN FALSTAFF.' + What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, wicked world! + One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with age to show + himself a young gallant! What an unweighed behaviour + hath this Flemish drunkard pick'd-with the devil's name! + -out of my conversation, that he dares in this manner + assay me? Why, he hath not been thrice in my company! + What should I say to him? I was then frugal of my mirth. + Heaven forgive me! Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament + for the putting down of men. How shall I be + reveng'd on him? for reveng'd I will be, as sure as his guts + are made of puddings. + + Enter MISTRESS FORD + + MRS. FORD. Mistress Page! trust me, I was going to your + house. + MRS. PAGE. And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look + very ill. + MRS. FORD. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that; I have to show to + the contrary. + MRS. PAGE. Faith, but you do, in my mind. + MRS. FORD. Well, I do, then; yet, I say, I could show you to + the contrary. O Mistress Page, give me some counsel. + MRS. PAGE. What's the matter, woman? + MRS. FORD. O woman, if it were not for one trifling respect, + I could come to such honour! + MRS. PAGE. Hang the trifle, woman; take the honour. What + is it? Dispense with trifles; what is it? + MRS. FORD. If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment + or so, I could be knighted. + MRS. PAGE. What? Thou liest. Sir Alice Ford! These knights + will hack; and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy + gentry. + MRS. FORD. We burn daylight. Here, read, read; perceive + how I might be knighted. I shall think the worse of fat + men as long as I have an eye to make difference of men's + liking. And yet he would not swear; prais'd women's + modesty, and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof + to all uncomeliness that I would have sworn his disposition + would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no + more adhere and keep place together than the Hundredth + Psalm to the tune of 'Greensleeves.' What tempest, I trow, + threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, + ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I + think the best way were to entertain him with hope, till + the wicked fire of lust have melted him in his own grease. + Did you ever hear the like? + MRS. PAGE. Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and + Ford differs. To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill + opinions, here's the twin-brother of thy letter; but let thine + inherit first, for, I protest, mine never shall. I warrant he + hath a thousand of these letters, writ with blank space for + different names-sure, more!-and these are of the second + edition. He will print them, out of doubt; for he cares not + what he puts into the press when he would put us two. I + had rather be a giantess and lie under Mount Pelion. Well, + I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste + man. + MRS. FORD. Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the + very words. What doth he think of us? + MRS. PAGE. Nay, I know not; it makes me almost ready to + wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll entertain myself like + one that I am not acquainted withal; for, sure, unless he + know some strain in me that I know not myself, he would + never have boarded me in this fury. + MRS. FORD. 'Boarding' call you it? I'll be sure to keep him + above deck. + MRS. PAGE. So will I; if he come under my hatches, I'll never + to sea again. Let's be reveng'd on him; let's appoint him a + meeting, give him a show of comfort in his suit, and lead + him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his + horses to mine host of the Garter. + MRS. FORD. Nay, I will consent to act any villainy against + him that may not sully the chariness of our honesty. O + that my husband saw this letter! It would give eternal food + to his jealousy. + MRS. PAGE. Why, look where he comes; and my good man + too; he's as far from jealousy as I am from giving him + cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance. + MRS. FORD. You are the happier woman. + MRS. PAGE. Let's consult together against this greasy knight. + Come hither. [They retire] + + Enter FORD with PISTOL, and PAGE with Nym + + FORD. Well, I hope it be not so. + PISTOL. Hope is a curtal dog in some affairs. + Sir John affects thy wife. + FORD. Why, sir, my wife is not young. + PISTOL. He woos both high and low, both rich and poor, + Both young and old, one with another, Ford; + He loves the gallimaufry. Ford, perpend. + FORD. Love my wife! + PISTOL. With liver burning hot. Prevent, or go thou, + Like Sir Actaeon he, with Ringwood at thy heels. + O, odious is the name! + FORD. What name, sir? + PISTOL. The horn, I say. Farewell. + Take heed, have open eye, for thieves do foot by night; + Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo birds do sing. + Away, Sir Corporal Nym. + Believe it, Page; he speaks sense. Exit PISTOL + FORD. [Aside] I will be patient; I will find out this. + NYM. [To PAGE] And this is true; I like not the humour of + lying. He hath wronged me in some humours; I should + have borne the humour'd letter to her; but I have a sword, + and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife; + there's the short and the long. + My name is Corporal Nym; I speak, and I avouch; + 'Tis true. My name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife. + Adieu! I love not the humour of bread and cheese; and + there's the humour of it. Adieu. Exit Nym + PAGE. 'The humour of it,' quoth 'a! Here's a fellow frights + English out of his wits. + FORD. I will seek out Falstaff. + PAGE. I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue. + FORD. If I do find it-well. + PAGE. I will not believe such a Cataian though the priest o' + th' town commended him for a true man. + FORD. 'Twas a good sensible fellow. Well. + + MISTRESS PAGE and MISTRESS FORD come forward + + PAGE. How now, Meg! + MRS. PAGE. Whither go you, George? Hark you. + MRS. FORD. How now, sweet Frank, why art thou melancholy? + FORD. I melancholy! I am not melancholy. Get you home; + go. + MRS. FORD. Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now. + Will you go, Mistress Page? + + Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY + + MRS. PAGE. Have with you. You'll come to dinner, George? + [Aside to MRS. FORD] Look who comes yonder; she shall + be our messenger to this paltry knight. + MRS. FORD. [Aside to MRS. PAGE] Trust me, I thought on + her; she'll fit it. + MRS. PAGE. You are come to see my daughter Anne? + QUICKLY. Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne? + MRS. PAGE. Go in with us and see; we have an hour's talk + with you. Exeunt MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and + MISTRESS QUICKLY + PAGE. How now, Master Ford! + FORD. You heard what this knave told me, did you not? + PAGE. Yes; and you heard what the other told me? + FORD. Do you think there is truth in them? + PAGE. Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the knight would offer it; + but these that accuse him in his intent towards our + wives are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now + they be out of service. + FORD. Were they his men? + PAGE. Marry, were they. + FORD. I like it never the better for that. Does he lie at the + Garter? + PAGE. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage + toward my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and what + he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head. + FORD. I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be loath to + turn them together. A man may be too confident. I would + have nothing lie on my head. I cannot be thus satisfied. + + Enter HOST + + PAGE. Look where my ranting host of the Garter comes. + There is either liquor in his pate or money in his purse + when he looks so merrily. How now, mine host! + HOST. How now, bully rook! Thou'rt a gentleman. [To + SHALLOW following] Cavaleiro Justice, I say. + + Enter SHALLOW + + SHALLOW. I follow, mine host, I follow. Good even and + twenty, good Master Page! Master Page, will you go with + us? We have sport in hand. + HOST. Tell him, Cavaleiro Justice; tell him, bully rook. + SHALLOW. Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh + the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor. + FORD. Good mine host o' th' Garter, a word with you. + HOST. What say'st thou, my bully rook? [They go aside] + SHALLOW. [To PAGE] Will you go with us to behold it? My + merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and, + I think, hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe + me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you + what our sport shall be. [They converse apart] + HOST. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavaleiro. + FORD. None, I protest; but I'll give you a pottle of burnt + sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is + Brook-only for a jest. + HOST. My hand, bully; thou shalt have egress and regress- + said I well?-and thy name shall be Brook. It is a merry + knight. Will you go, Mynheers? + SHALLOW. Have with you, mine host. + PAGE. I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in his + rapier. + SHALLOW. Tut, sir, I could have told you more. In these + times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and + I know not what. 'Tis the heart, Master Page; 'tis here, + 'tis here. I have seen the time with my long sword I would + have made you four tall fellows skip like rats. + HOST. Here, boys, here, here! Shall we wag? + PAGE. Have with you. I had rather hear them scold than + fight. Exeunt all but FORD + FORD. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on + his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my opinion so + easily. She was in his company at Page's house, and what + they made there I know not. Well, I will look further into + 't, and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff. If I find her + honest, I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour + well bestowed. Exit + + + + +SCENE 2. + +A room in the Garter Inn + +Enter FALSTAFF and PISTOL + + FALSTAFF. I will not lend thee a penny. + PISTOL. I will retort the sum in equipage. + FALSTAFF. Not a penny. + PISTOL. Why, then the world's mine oyster. Which I with + sword will open. + FALSTAFF. Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should + lay my countenance to pawn. I have grated upon my good + friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow, + Nym; or else you had look'd through the grate, like a + geminy of baboons. I am damn'd in hell for swearing to + gentlemen my friends you were good soldiers and tall fellows; + and when Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, + I took 't upon mine honour thou hadst it not. + PISTOL. Didst not thou share? Hadst thou not fifteen pence? + FALSTAFF. Reason, you rogue, reason. Think'st thou I'll + endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me, + I am no gibbet for you. Go-a short knife and a throng!- + to your manor of Pickt-hatch; go. You'll not bear a letter + for me, you rogue! You stand upon your honour! Why, + thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to + keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I myself + sometimes, leaving the fear of God on the left hand, and hiding + mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, + and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags, + your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and + your bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your honour! + You will not do it, you! + PISTOL. I do relent; what would thou more of man? + + Enter ROBIN + + ROBIN. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. + FALSTAFF. Let her approach. + + Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY + + QUICKLY. Give your worship good morrow. + FALSTAFF. Good morrow, good wife. + QUICKLY. Not so, an't please your worship. + FALSTAFF. Good maid, then. + QUICKLY. I'll be sworn; + As my mother was, the first hour I was born. + FALSTAFF. I do believe the swearer. What with me? + QUICKLY. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two? + FALSTAFF. Two thousand, fair woman; and I'll vouchsafe + thee the hearing. + QUICKLY. There is one Mistress Ford, sir-I pray, come a little + nearer this ways. I myself dwell with Master Doctor + Caius. + FALSTAFF. Well, on: Mistress Ford, you say- + QUICKLY. Your worship says very true. I pray your worship + come a little nearer this ways. + FALSTAFF. I warrant thee nobody hears-mine own people, + mine own people. + QUICKLY. Are they so? God bless them, and make them his + servants! + FALSTAFF. Well; Mistress Ford, what of her? + QUICKLY. Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord, Lord, your + worship's a wanton! Well, heaven forgive you, and all of + us, I pray. + FALSTAFF. Mistress Ford; come, Mistress Ford- + QUICKLY. Marry, this is the short and the long of it: you + have brought her into such a canaries as 'tis wonderful. + The best courtier of them all, when the court lay at Windsor, + could never have brought her to such a canary. Yet + there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with + their coaches; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after + letter, gift after gift; smelling so sweetly, all musk, and so + rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and in such alligant + terms; and in such wine and sugar of the best and the + fairest, that would have won any woman's heart; and I + warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her. + I had myself twenty angels given me this morning; but I + defy all angels, in any such sort, as they say, but in the + way of honesty; and, I warrant you, they could never get + her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them all; + and yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, + pensioners; but, I warrant you, all is one with her. + FALSTAFF. But what says she to me? Be brief, my good she- + Mercury. + QUICKLY. Marry, she hath receiv'd your letter; for the + which she thanks you a thousand times; and she gives you + to notify that her husband will be absence from his house + between ten and eleven. + FALSTAFF. Ten and eleven? + QUICKLY. Ay, forsooth; and then you may come and see + the picture, she says, that you wot of. Master Ford, her + husband, will be from home. Alas, the sweet woman leads + an ill life with him! He's a very jealousy man; she leads a + very frampold life with him, good heart. + FALSTAFF. Ten and eleven. Woman, commend me to her; I + will not fail her. + QUICKLY. Why, you say well. But I have another messenger + to your worship. Mistress Page hath her hearty commendations + to you too; and let me tell you in your ear, she's as + fartuous a civil modest wife, and one, I tell you, that will + not miss you morning nor evening prayer, as any is in + Windsor, whoe'er be the other; and she bade me tell your + worship that her husband is seldom from home, but she + hopes there will come a time. I never knew a woman so + dote upon a man: surely I think you have charms, la! Yes, + in truth. + FALSTAFF. Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my + good parts aside, I have no other charms. + QUICKLY. Blessing on your heart for 't! + FALSTAFF. But, I pray thee, tell me this: has Ford's wife and + Page's wife acquainted each other how they love me? + QUICKLY. That were a jest indeed! They have not so little + grace, I hope-that were a trick indeed! But Mistress Page + would desire you to send her your little page of all loves. + Her husband has a marvellous infection to the little page; + and truly Master Page is an honest man. Never a wife in + Windsor leads a better life than she does; do what she will, + say what she will, take all, pay all, go to bed when she + list, rise when she list, all is as she will; and truly she + deserves it; for if there be a kind woman in Windsor, she + is one. You must send her your page; no remedy. + FALSTAFF. Why, I will. + QUICKLY. Nay, but do so then; and, look you, he may come + and go between you both; and in any case have a + nay-word, that you may know one another's mind, and the boy + never need to understand any thing; for 'tis not good that + children should know any wickedness. Old folks, you + know, have discretion, as they say, and know the world. + FALSTAFF. Fare thee well; commend me to them both. + There's my purse; I am yet thy debtor. Boy, go along with + this woman. [Exeunt QUICKLY and ROBIN] This news + distracts me. + PISTOL. [Aside] This punk is one of Cupid's carriers; + Clap on more sails; pursue; up with your fights; + Give fire; she is my prize, or ocean whelm them all! Exit + FALSTAFF. Say'st thou so, old Jack; go thy ways; I'll make + more of thy old body than I have done. Will they yet look + after thee? Wilt thou, after the expense of so much money, + be now a gainer? Good body, I thank thee. Let them say + 'tis grossly done; so it be fairly done, no matter. + + Enter BARDOLPH + + BARDOLPH. Sir John, there's one Master Brook below would + fain speak with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath + sent your worship a moming's draught of sack. + FALSTAFF. Brook is his name? + BARDOLPH. Ay, sir. + FALSTAFF. Call him in. [Exit BARDOLPH] Such Brooks are + welcome to me, that o'erflows such liquor. Ah, ha! Mistress + Ford and Mistress Page, have I encompass'd you? Go to; + via! + + Re-enter BARDOLPH, with FORD disguised + + FORD. Bless you, sir! + FALSTAFF. And you, sir! Would you speak with me? + FORD. I make bold to press with so little preparation upon + you. + FALSTAFF. You're welcome. What's your will? Give us leave, + drawer. Exit BARDOLPH + FORD. Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent much; my name + is Brook. + FALSTAFF. Good Master Brook, I desire more acquaintance + of you. + FORD. Good Sir John, I sue for yours-not to charge you; for I + must let you understand I think myself in better plight for + a lender than you are; the which hath something + embold'ned me to this unseason'd intrusion; for they say, if + money go before, all ways do lie open. + FALSTAFF. Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on. + FORD. Troth, and I have a bag of money here troubles me; if + you will help to bear it, Sir John, take all, or half, for easing + me of the carriage. + FALSTAFF. Sir, I know not how I may deserve to be your + porter. + FORD. I will tell you, sir, if you will give me the hearing. + FALSTAFF. Speak, good Master Brook; I shall be glad to be + your servant. + FORD. Sir, I hear you are a scholar-I will be brief with you + -and you have been a man long known to me, though I + had never so good means as desire to make myself acquainted + with you. I shall discover a thing to you, wherein + I must very much lay open mine own imperfection; but, + good Sir John, as you have one eye upon my follies, as you + hear them unfolded, turn another into the register of your + own, that I may pass with a reproof the easier, sith you + yourself know how easy is it to be such an offender. + FALSTAFF. Very well, sir; proceed. + FORD. There is a gentlewoman in this town, her husband's + name is Ford. + FALSTAFF. Well, sir. + FORD. I have long lov'd her, and, I protest to you, bestowed + much on her; followed her with a doting observance; + engross'd opportunities to meet her; fee'd every slight occasion + that could but niggardly give me sight of her; not + only bought many presents to give her, but have given + largely to many to know what she would have given; + briefly, I have pursu'd her as love hath pursued me; which + hath been on the wing of all occasions. But whatsoever I + have merited, either in my mind or in my means, meed, I + am sure, I have received none, unless experience be a jewel; + that I have purchased at an infinite rate, and that hath + taught me to say this: + 'Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues; + Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.' + FALSTAFF. Have you receiv'd no promise of satisfaction at + her hands? + FORD. Never. + FALSTAFF. Have you importun'd her to such a purpose? + FORD. Never. + FALSTAFF. Of what quality was your love, then? + FORD. Like a fair house built on another man's ground; so + that I have lost my edifice by mistaking the place where + erected it. + FALSTAFF. To what purpose have you unfolded this to me? + FORD. When I have told you that, I have told you all. Some + say that though she appear honest to me, yet in other + places she enlargeth her mirth so far that there is shrewd + construction made of her. Now, Sir John, here is the heart + of my purpose: you are a gentleman of excellent + breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authentic in + your place and person, generally allow'd for your many + war-like, courtlike, and learned preparations. + FALSTAFF. O, sir! + FORD. Believe it, for you know it. There is money; spend it, + spend it; spend more; spend all I have; only give me so + much of your time in exchange of it as to lay an amiable + siege to the honesty of this Ford's wife; use your art of + wooing, win her to consent to you; if any man may, you + may as soon as any. + FALSTAFF. Would it apply well to the vehemency of your + affection, that I should win what you would enjoy? + Methinks you prescribe to yourself very preposterously. + FORD. O, understand my drift. She dwells so securely on the + excellency of her honour that the folly of my soul dares + not present itself; she is too bright to be look'd against. + Now, could I come to her with any detection in my hand, + my desires had instance and argument to commend themselves; + I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, + her reputation, her marriage vow, and a thousand other her + defences, which now are too too strongly embattl'd against + me. What say you to't, Sir John? + FALSTAFF. Master Brook, I will first make bold with your + money; next, give me your hand; and last, as I am a gentleman, + you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife. + FORD. O good sir! + FALSTAFF. I say you shall. + FORD. Want no money, Sir John; you shall want none. + FALSTAFF. Want no Mistress Ford, Master Brook; you shall + want none. I shall be with her, I may tell you, by her own + appointment; even as you came in to me her assistant, or + go-between, parted from me; I say I shall be with her between + ten and eleven; for at that time the jealous rascally + knave, her husband, will be forth. Come you to me at + night; you shall know how I speed. + FORD. I am blest in your acquaintance. Do you know Ford, + Sir? + FALSTAFF. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave! I know him + not; yet I wrong him to call him poor; they say the + jealous wittolly knave hath masses of money; for the which + his wife seems to me well-favour'd. I will use her as the + key of the cuckoldly rogue's coffer; and there's my harvest-home. + FORD. I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might avoid him + if you saw him. + FALSTAFF. Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! I will + stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cudgel; + it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns. Master + Brook, thou shalt know I will predominate over the + peasant, and thou shalt lie with his wife. Come to me soon at + night. Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his style; thou, + Master Brook, shalt know him for knave and cuckold. + Come to me soon at night. Exit + FORD. What a damn'd Epicurean rascal is this! My heart is + ready to crack with impatience. Who says this is improvident + jealousy? My wife hath sent to him; the hour is fix'd; + the match is made. Would any man have thought this? See + the hell of having a false woman! My bed shall be abus'd, + my coffers ransack'd, my reputation gnawn at; and I shall + not only receive this villainous wrong, but stand under the + adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does me + this wrong. Terms! names! Amaimon sounds well; Lucifer, + well; Barbason, well; yet they are devils' additions, the names + of fiends. But cuckold! Wittol! Cuckold! the devil himself + hath not such a name. Page is an ass, a secure ass; he will trust + his wife; he will not be jealous; I will rather trust a Fleming + with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman with my + cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vitae bottle, or a thief to + walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with herself. Then + she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises; and what + they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break + their hearts but they will effect. God be prais'd for my + jealousy! Eleven o'clock the hour. I will prevent this, detect + my wife, be reveng'd on Falstaff, and laugh at Page. + I will about it; better three hours too soon than a minute + too late. Fie, fie, fie! cuckold! cuckold! cuckold! Exit + + + + +SCENE 3. + +A field near Windsor + +Enter CAIUS and RUGBY + + CAIUS. Jack Rugby! + RUGBY. Sir? + CAIUS. Vat is de clock, Jack? + RUGBY. 'Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh promis'd to + meet. + CAIUS. By gar, he has save his soul dat he is no come; he has + pray his Pible well dat he is no come; by gar, Jack Rugby, + he is dead already, if he be come. + RUGBY. He is wise, sir; he knew your worship would kill + him if he came. + CAIUS. By gar, de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him. Take + your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you how I vill kill him. + RUGBY. Alas, sir, I cannot fence! + CAIUS. Villainy, take your rapier. + RUGBY. Forbear; here's company. + + Enter HOST, SHALLOW, SLENDER, and PAGE + + HOST. Bless thee, bully doctor! + SHALLOW. Save you, Master Doctor Caius! + PAGE. Now, good Master Doctor! + SLENDER. Give you good morrow, sir. + CAIUS. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for? + HOST. To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee traverse; + to see thee here, to see thee there; to see thee pass thy + punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant. + Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco? Ha, + bully! What says my Aesculapius? my Galen? my heart + of elder? Ha! is he dead, bully stale? Is he dead? + CAIUS. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of de world; he is + not show his face. + HOST. Thou art a Castalion-King-Urinal. Hector of Greece, + my boy! + CAIUS. I pray you, bear witness that me have stay six or + seven, two tree hours for him, and he is no come. + SHALLOW. He is the wiser man, Master Doctor: he is a curer + of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight, + you go against the hair of your professions. Is it not true, + Master Page? + PAGE. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, + though now a man of peace. + SHALLOW. Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old, and + of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make + one. Though we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen, + Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are + the sons of women, Master Page. + PAGE. 'Tis true, Master Shallow. + SHALLOW. It will be found so, Master Page. Master Doctor + CAIUS, I come to fetch you home. I am sworn of the peace; + you have show'd yourself a wise physician, and Sir Hugh + hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman. You + must go with me, Master Doctor. + HOST. Pardon, Guest Justice. A word, Mounseur Mockwater. + CAIUS. Mock-vater! Vat is dat? + HOST. Mockwater, in our English tongue, is valour, bully. + CAIUS. By gar, then I have as much mockvater as de Englishman. + Scurvy jack-dog priest! By gar, me vill cut his ears. + HOST. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. + CAIUS. Clapper-de-claw! Vat is dat? + HOST. That is, he will make thee amends. + CAIUS. By gar, me do look he shall clapper-de-claw me; for, + by gar, me vill have it. + HOST. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag. + CAIUS. Me tank you for dat. + HOST. And, moreover, bully-but first: [Aside to the others] + Master Guest, and Master Page, and eke Cavaleiro Slender, + go you through the town to Frogmore. + PAGE. [Aside] Sir Hugh is there, is he? + HOST. [Aside] He is there. See what humour he is in; and + I will bring the doctor about by the fields. Will it do well? + SHALLOW. [Aside] We will do it. + PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER. Adieu, good Master Doctor. + Exeunt PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER + CAIUS. By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a jack- + an-ape to Anne Page. + HOST. Let him die. Sheathe thy impatience; throw cold water + on thy choler; go about the fields with me through Frogmore; + I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a a + farm-house, a-feasting; and thou shalt woo her. Cried + game! Said I well? + CAIUS. By gar, me dank you vor dat; by gar, I love you; and + I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de + lords, de gentlemen, my patients. + HOST. For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne + Page. Said I well? + CAIUS. By gar, 'tis good; vell said. + HOST. Let us wag, then. + CAIUS. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III SCENE 1. + +A field near Frogmore + +Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE + + EVANS. I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving-man, + and friend Simple by your name, which way have you + look'd for Master Caius, that calls himself Doctor of + Physic? + SIMPLE. Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward; every + way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way. + EVANS. I most fehemently desire you you will also look that + way. + SIMPLE. I will, Sir. Exit + EVANS. Pless my soul, how full of chollors I am, and trempling + of mind! I shall be glad if he have deceived me. How + melancholies I am! I will knog his urinals about his knave's + costard when I have goot opportunities for the ork. Pless + my soul! [Sings] + To shallow rivers, to whose falls + Melodious birds sings madrigals; + There will we make our peds of roses, + And a thousand fragrant posies. + To shallow- + Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry. [Sings] + Melodious birds sing madrigals- + Whenas I sat in Pabylon- + And a thousand vagram posies. + To shallow, etc. + + Re-enter SIMPLE + + SIMPLE. Yonder he is, coming this way, Sir Hugh. + EVANS. He's welcome. [Sings] + To shallow rivers, to whose falls- + Heaven prosper the right! What weapons is he? + SIMPLE. No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master + Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore, over the + stile, this way. + EVANS. Pray you give me my gown; or else keep it in your + arms. [Takes out a book] + + Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER + + SHALLOW. How now, Master Parson! Good morrow, good + Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student + from his book, and it is wonderful. + SLENDER. [Aside] Ah, sweet Anne Page! + PAGE. Save you, good Sir Hugh! + EVANS. Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you! + SHALLOW. What, the sword and the word! Do you study + them both, Master Parson? + PAGE. And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw + rheumatic day! + EVANS. There is reasons and causes for it. + PAGE. We are come to you to do a good office, Master + Parson. + EVANS. Fery well; what is it? + PAGE. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike having + received wrong by some person, is at most odds with + his own gravity and patience that ever you saw. + SHALLOW. I have lived fourscore years and upward; I never + heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of + his own respect. + EVANS. What is he? + PAGE. I think you know him: Master Doctor Caius, the + renowned French physician. + EVANS. Got's will and his passion of my heart! I had as lief + you would tell me of a mess of porridge. + PAGE. Why? + EVANS. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and + Galen, and he is a knave besides-a cowardly knave as you + would desires to be acquainted withal. + PAGE. I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him. + SLENDER. [Aside] O sweet Anne Page! + SHALLOW. It appears so, by his weapons. Keep them asunder; + here comes Doctor Caius. + + Enter HOST, CAIUS, and RUGBY + + PAGE. Nay, good Master Parson, keep in your weapon. + SHALLOW. So do you, good Master Doctor. + HOST. Disarm them, and let them question; let them keep + their limbs whole and hack our English. + CAIUS. I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear. + Verefore will you not meet-a me? + EVANS. [Aside to CAIUS] Pray you use your patience; in + good time. + CAIUS. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape. + EVANS. [Aside to CAIUS] Pray you, let us not be + laughing-stocks to other men's humours; I desire you in + friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends. + [Aloud] I will knog your urinals about your knave's cogscomb + for missing your meetings and appointments. + CAIUS. Diable! Jack Rugby-mine Host de Jarteer-have I + not stay for him to kill him? Have I not, at de place I did + appoint? + EVANS. As I am a Christians soul, now, look you, this is the + place appointed. I'll be judgment by mine host of the + Garter. + HOST. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh, + soul-curer and body-curer. + CAIUS. Ay, dat is very good! excellent! + HOST. Peace, I say. Hear mine host of the Garter. Am I + politic? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my + doctor? No; he gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I + lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh? No; he gives me + the proverbs and the noverbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial; + so. Give me thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of art, I have + deceiv'd you both; I have directed you to wrong places; + your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt + sack be the issue. Come, lay their swords to pawn. Follow + me, lads of peace; follow, follow, follow. + SHALLOW. Trust me, a mad host. Follow, gentlemen, follow. + SLENDER. [Aside] O sweet Anne Page! + Exeunt all but CAIUS and EVANS + CAIUS. Ha, do I perceive dat? Have you make-a de sot of us, + ha, ha? + EVANS. This is well; he has made us his vlouting-stog. I + desire you that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains + together to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging + companion, the host of the Garter. + CAIUS. By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me + where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too. + EVANS. Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you follow. + Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE 2. + +The street in Windsor + +Enter MISTRESS PAGE and ROBIN + + MRS. PAGE. Nay, keep your way, little gallant; you were + wont to be a follower, but now you are a leader. Whether + had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels? + ROBIN. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man than + follow him like a dwarf. + MRS. PAGE. O, you are a flattering boy; now I see you'll be a + courtier. + + Enter FORD + + FORD. Well met, Mistress Page. Whither go you? + MRS. PAGE. Truly, sir, to see your wife. Is she at home? + FORD. Ay; and as idle as she may hang together, for want of + company. I think, if your husbands were dead, you two + would marry. + MRS. PAGE. Be sure of that-two other husbands. + FORD. Where had you this pretty weathercock? + MRS. PAGE. I cannot tell what the dickens his name is my + husband had him of. What do you call your knight's + name, sirrah? + ROBIN. Sir John Falstaff. + FORD. Sir John Falstaff! + MRS. PAGE. He, he; I can never hit on's name. There is such + a league between my good man and he! Is your wife at + home indeed? + FORD. Indeed she is. + MRS. PAGE. By your leave, sir. I am sick till I see her. + Exeunt MRS. PAGE and ROBIN + FORD. Has Page any brains? Hath he any eyes? Hath he any + thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them. Why, + this boy will carry a letter twenty mile as easy as a cannon + will shoot pointblank twelve score. He pieces out his wife's + inclination; he gives her folly motion and advantage; and + now she's going to my wife, and Falstaff's boy with her. A + man may hear this show'r sing in the wind. And Falstaff's + boy with her! Good plots! They are laid; and our revolted + wives share damnation together. Well; I will take him, + then torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil of modesty + from the so seeming Mistress Page, divulge Page himself + for a secure and wilful Actaeon; and to these violent proceedings + all my neighbours shall cry aim. [Clock strikes] + The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids me + search; there I shall find Falstaff. I shall be rather prais'd + for this than mock'd; for it is as positive as the earth is firm + that Falstaff is there. I will go. + + Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, SLENDER, HOST, SIR HUGH EVANS, + CAIUS, and RUGBY + + SHALLOW, PAGE, &C. Well met, Master Ford. + FORD. Trust me, a good knot; I have good cheer at home, + and I pray you all go with me. + SHALLOW. I must excuse myself, Master Ford. + SLENDER. And so must I, sir; we have appointed to dine with + Mistress Anne, and I would not break with her for more + money than I'll speak of. + SHALLOW. We have linger'd about a match between Anne + Page and my cousin Slender, and this day we shall have + our answer. + SLENDER. I hope I have your good will, father Page. + PAGE. You have, Master Slender; I stand wholly for you. But + my wife, Master Doctor, is for you altogether. + CAIUS. Ay, be-gar; and de maid is love-a me; my nursh-a + Quickly tell me so mush. + HOST. What say you to young Master Fenton? He capers, + he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks + holiday, he smells April and May; he will carry 't, he will + carry 't; 'tis in his buttons; he will carry 't. + PAGE. Not by my consent, I promise you. The gentleman is + of no having: he kept company with the wild Prince and + Poins; he is of too high a region, he knows too much. No, + he shall not knit a knot in his fortunes with the finger of + my substance; if he take her, let him take her simply; the + wealth I have waits on my consent, and my consent goes + not that way. + FORD. I beseech you, heartily, some of you go home with me + to dinner: besides your cheer, you shall have sport; I will + show you a monster. Master Doctor, you shall go; so shall + you, Master Page; and you, Sir Hugh. + SHALLOW. Well, fare you well; we shall have the freer + wooing at Master Page's. Exeunt SHALLOW and SLENDER + CAIUS. Go home, John Rugby; I come anon. Exit RUGBY + HOST. Farewell, my hearts; I will to my honest knight + Falstaff, and drink canary with him. Exit HOST + FORD. [Aside] I think I shall drink in pipe-wine first with + him. I'll make him dance. Will you go, gentles? + ALL. Have with you to see this monster. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE 3. + +FORD'S house + +Enter MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE + + MRS. FORD. What, John! what, Robert! + MRS. PAGE. Quickly, quickly! Is the buck-basket- + MRS. FORD. I warrant. What, Robin, I say! + + Enter SERVANTS with a basket + + MRS. PAGE. Come, come, come. + MRS. FORD. Here, set it down. + MRS. PAGE. Give your men the charge; we must be brief. + MRS. FORD. Marry, as I told you before, John and Robert, be + ready here hard by in the brew-house; and when I suddenly + call you, come forth, and, without any pause or + staggering, take this basket on your shoulders. That done, + trudge with it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters + in Datchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddy ditch + close by the Thames side. + Mrs. PAGE. You will do it? + MRS. FORD. I ha' told them over and over; they lack no + direction. Be gone, and come when you are call'd. + Exeunt SERVANTS + MRS. PAGE. Here comes little Robin. + + Enter ROBIN + + MRS. FORD. How now, my eyas-musket, what news with + you? + ROBIN. My Master Sir John is come in at your back-door, + Mistress Ford, and requests your company. + MRS. PAGE. You little Jack-a-Lent, have you been true to us? + ROBIN. Ay, I'll be sworn. My master knows not of your + being here, and hath threat'ned to put me into everlasting + liberty, if I tell you of it; for he swears he'll turn me away. + MRS. PAGE. Thou 'rt a good boy; this secrecy of thine shall + be a tailor to thee, and shall make thee a new doublet and + hose. I'll go hide me. + MRS. FORD. Do so. Go tell thy master I am alone. [Exit + ROBIN] Mistress Page, remember you your cue. + MRS. PAGE. I warrant thee; if I do not act it, hiss me. + Exit MRS. PAGE + MRS. FORD. Go to, then; we'll use this unwholesome + humidity, this gross wat'ry pumpion; we'll teach him to + know turtles from jays. + + Enter FALSTAFF + + FALSTAFF. Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? + Why, now let me die, for I have liv'd long enough; this is + the period of my ambition. O this blessed hour! + MRS. FORD. O sweet Sir John! + FALSTAFF. Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate, + Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish; I would thy + husband were dead; I'll speak it before the best lord, I + would make thee my lady. + MRS. FORD. I your lady, Sir John? Alas, I should be a pitiful + lady. + FALSTAFF. Let the court of France show me such another. I + see how thine eye would emulate the diamond; thou hast + the right arched beauty of the brow that becomes the + ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire of Venetian admittance. + MRS. FORD. A plain kerchief, Sir John; my brows become + nothing else, nor that well neither. + FALSTAFF. By the Lord, thou art a tyrant to say so; thou + wouldst make an absolute courtier, and the firm fixture of + thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait in a + semi-circled farthingale. I see what thou wert, if Fortune + thy foe were, not Nature, thy friend. Come, thou canst not + hide it. + MRS. FORD. Believe me, there's no such thing in me. + FALSTAFF. What made me love thee? Let that persuade thee + there's something extra-ordinary in thee. Come, I cannot + cog, and say thou art this and that, like a many of these + lisping hawthorn-buds that come like women in men's + apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury in simple time; I + cannot; but I love thee, none but thee; and thou deserv'st it. + MRS. FORD. Do not betray me, sir; I fear you love Mistress + Page. + FALSTAFF. Thou mightst as well say I love to walk by the + Counter-gate, which is as hateful to me as the reek of a + lime-kiln. + MRS. FORD. Well, heaven knows how I love you; and you + shall one day find it. + FALSTAFF. Keep in that mind; I'll deserve it. + MRS. FORD. Nay, I must tell you, so you do; or else I could + not be in that mind. + ROBIN. [Within] Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford! here's + Mistress Page at the door, sweating and blowing and looking + wildly, and would needs speak with you presently. + FALSTAFF. She shall not see me; I will ensconce me behind + the arras. + MRS. FORD. Pray you, do so; she's a very tattling woman. + [FALSTAFF hides himself] + + Re-enter MISTRESS PAGE and ROBIN + + What's the matter? How now! + MRS. PAGE. O Mistress Ford, what have you done? You're + sham'd, y'are overthrown, y'are undone for ever. + MRS. FORD. What's the matter, good Mistress Page? + MRS. PAGE. O well-a-day, Mistress Ford, having an honest + man to your husband, to give him such cause of suspicion! + MRS. FORD. What cause of suspicion? + MRS. PAGE. What cause of suspicion? Out upon you, how + am I mistook in you! + MRS. FORD. Why, alas, what's the matter? + MRS. PAGE. Your husband's coming hither, woman, with all + the officers in Windsor, to search for a gentleman that he + says is here now in the house, by your consent, to take an + ill advantage of his absence. You are undone. + MRS. FORD. 'Tis not so, I hope. + MRS. PAGE. Pray heaven it be not so that you have such a + man here; but 'tis most certain your husband's coming, + with half Windsor at his heels, to search for such a one. I + come before to tell you. If you know yourself clear, why, + I am glad of it; but if you have a friend here, convey, + convey him out. Be not amaz'd; call all your senses to you; + defend your reputation, or bid farewell to your good life + for ever. + MRS. FORD. What shall I do? There is a gentleman, my dear + friend; and I fear not mine own shame as much as his peril. + I had rather than a thousand pound he were out of the + house. + MRS. PAGE. For shame, never stand 'you had rather' and 'you + had rather'! Your husband's here at hand; bethink you of + some conveyance; in the house you cannot hide him. O, + how have you deceiv'd me! Look, here is a basket; if he be + of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here; and throw + foul linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking, or-it is + whiting-time-send him by your two men to Datchet + Mead. + MRS. FORD. He's too big to go in there. What shall I do? + FALSTAFF. [Coming forward] Let me see 't, let me see 't. O, + let me see 't! I'll in, I'll in; follow your friend's counsel; + I'll in. + MRS. PAGE. What, Sir John Falstaff! [Aside to FALSTAFF] + Are these your letters, knight? + FALSTAFF. [Aside to MRS. PAGE] I love thee and none but + thee; help me away.-Let me creep in here; I'll never- + [Gets into the basket; they cover him with foul linen] + MRS. PAGE. Help to cover your master, boy. Call your men, + Mistress Ford. You dissembling knight! + MRS. FORD. What, John! Robert! John! Exit ROBIN + + Re-enter SERVANTS + + Go, take up these clothes here, quickly; where's the + cowl-staff? Look how you drumble. Carry them to the laundress + in Datchet Mead; quickly, come. + + Enter FORD, PAGE, CAIUS, and SIR HUGH EVANS + + FORD. Pray you come near. If I suspect without cause, why + then make sport at me, then let me be your jest; I deserve + it. How now, whither bear you this? + SERVANT. To the laundress, forsooth. + MRS. FORD. Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? + You were best meddle with buck-washing. + FORD. Buck? I would I could wash myself of the buck! + Buck, buck, buck! ay, buck! I warrant you, buck; and of + the season too, it shall appear. [Exeunt SERVANTS with + basket] Gentlemen, I have dream'd to-night; I'll tell you my + dream. Here, here, here be my keys; ascend my chambers, + search, seek, find out. I'll warrant we'll unkennel the fox. + Let me stop this way first. [Locking the door] So, now + uncape. + PAGE. Good Master Ford, be contented; you wrong yourself + too much. + FORD. True, Master Page. Up, gentlemen, you shall see sport + anon; follow me, gentlemen. Exit + EVANS. This is fery fantastical humours and jealousies. + CAIUS. By gar, 'tis no the fashion of France; it is not jealous + in France. + PAGE. Nay, follow him, gentlemen; see the issue of his + search. Exeunt EVANS, PAGE, and CAIUS + MRS. PAGE. Is there not a double excellency in this? + MRS. FORD. I know not which pleases me better, that my + husband is deceived, or Sir John. + MRS. PAGE. What a taking was he in when your husband + ask'd who was in the basket! + MRS. FORD. I am half afraid he will have need of washing; so + throwing him into the water will do him a benefit. + MRS. PAGE. Hang him, dishonest rascal! I would all of the + same strain were in the same distress. + MRS. FORD. I think my husband hath some special suspicion + of Falstaff's being here, for I never saw him so gross in his + jealousy till now. + MRS. PAGE. I Will lay a plot to try that, and we will yet have + more tricks with Falstaff. His dissolute disease will scarce + obey this medicine. + MRS. FORD. Shall we send that foolish carrion, Mistress + Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing into the water, + and give him another hope, to betray him to another + punishment? + MRS. PAGE. We will do it; let him be sent for to-morrow + eight o'clock, to have amends. + + Re-enter FORD, PAGE, CAIUS, and SIR HUGH EVANS + + FORD. I cannot find him; may be the knave bragg'd of that + he could not compass. + MRS. PAGE. [Aside to MRS. FORD] Heard you that? + MRS. FORD. You use me well, Master Ford, do you? + FORD. Ay, I do so. + MRS. FORD. Heaven make you better than your thoughts! + FORD. Amen. + MRS. PAGE. You do yourself mighty wrong, Master Ford. + FORD. Ay, ay; I must bear it. + EVANS. If there be any pody in the house, and in the + chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses, heaven forgive + my sins at the day of judgment! + CAIUS. Be gar, nor I too; there is no bodies. + PAGE. Fie, fie, Master Ford, are you not asham'd? What + spirit, what devil suggests this imagination? I would not ha' + your distemper in this kind for the wealth of Windsor + Castle. + FORD. 'Tis my fault, Master Page; I suffer for it. + EVANS. You suffer for a pad conscience. Your wife is as + honest a omans as I will desires among five thousand, and five + hundred too. + CAIUS. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman. + FORD. Well, I promis'd you a dinner. Come, come, walk in + the Park. I pray you pardon me; I will hereafter make + known to you why I have done this. Come, wife, come, + Mistress Page; I pray you pardon me; pray heartly, + pardon me. + PAGE. Let's go in, gentlemen; but, trust me, we'll mock him. + I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house to breakfast; + after, we'll a-birding together; I have a fine hawk for + the bush. Shall it be so? + FORD. Any thing. + EVANS. If there is one, I shall make two in the company. + CAIUS. If there be one or two, I shall make-a the turd. + FORD. Pray you go, Master Page. + EVANS. I pray you now, remembrance to-morrow on the + lousy knave, mine host. + CAIUS. Dat is good; by gar, with all my heart. + EVANS. A lousy knave, to have his gibes and his mockeries! + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +Before PAGE'S house + +Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE + + FENTON. I see I cannot get thy father's love; + Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. + ANNE. Alas, how then? + FENTON. Why, thou must be thyself. + He doth object I am too great of birth; + And that, my state being gall'd with my expense, + I seek to heal it only by his wealth. + Besides these, other bars he lays before me, + My riots past, my wild societies; + And tells me 'tis a thing impossible + I should love thee but as a property. + ANNE.. May be he tells you true. + FENTON. No, heaven so speed me in my time to come! + Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth + Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne; + Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value + Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bags; + And 'tis the very riches of thyself + That now I aim at. + ANNE. Gentle Master Fenton, + Yet seek my father's love; still seek it, sir. + If opportunity and humblest suit + Cannot attain it, why then-hark you hither. + [They converse apart] + + Enter SHALLOW, SLENDER, and MISTRESS QUICKLY + + SHALLOW. Break their talk, Mistress Quickly; my kinsman + shall speak for himself. + SLENDER. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on 't; 'slid, 'tis but + venturing. + SHALLOW. Be not dismay'd. + SLENDER. No, she shall not dismay me. I care not for that, + but that I am afeard. + QUICKLY. Hark ye, Master Slender would speak a word + with you. + ANNE. I come to him. [Aside] This is my father's choice. + O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults + Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! + QUICKLY. And how does good Master Fenton? Pray you, a + word with you. + SHALLOW. She's coming; to her, coz. O boy, thou hadst a + father! + SLENDER. I had a father, Mistress Anne; my uncle can tell + you good jests of him. Pray you, uncle, tell Mistress Anne + the jest how my father stole two geese out of a pen, good + uncle. + SHALLOW. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you. + SLENDER. Ay, that I do; as well as I love any woman in + Gloucestershire. + SHALLOW. He will maintain you like a gentlewoman. + SLENDER. Ay, that I will come cut and longtail, under the + degree of a squire. + SHALLOW. He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds + jointure. + ANNE. Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself. + SHALLOW. Marry, I thank you for it; I thank you for that + good comfort. She calls you, coz; I'll leave you. + ANNE. Now, Master Slender- + SLENDER. Now, good Mistress Anne- + ANNE. What is your will? + SLENDER. My Will! 'Od's heartlings, that's a pretty jest + indeed! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank heaven; I am not + such a sickly creature, I give heaven praise. + ANNE. I mean, Master Slender, what would you with me? + SLENDER. Truly, for mine own part I would little or nothing + with you. Your father and my uncle hath made motions; + if it be my luck, so; if not, happy man be his dole! They + can tell you how things go better than I can. You may ask + your father; here he comes. + + Enter PAGE and MISTRESS PAGE + + PAGE. Now, Master Slender! Love him, daughter Anne- + Why, how now, what does Master Fenton here? + You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house. + I told you, sir, my daughter is dispos'd of. + FENTON. Nay, Master Page, be not impatient. + MRS. PAGE. Good Master Fenton, come not to my child. + PAGE. She is no match for you. + FENTON. Sir, will you hear me? + PAGE. No, good Master Fenton. + Come, Master Shallow; come, son Slender; in. + Knowing my mind, you wrong me, Master Fenton. + Exeunt PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER + QUICKLY. Speak to Mistress Page. + FENTON. Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter + In such a righteous fashion as I do, + Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners, + I must advance the colours of my love, + And not retire. Let me have your good will. + ANNE. Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool. + MRS. PAGE. I mean it not; I seek you a better husband. + QUICKLY. That's my master, Master Doctor. + ANNE. Alas, I had rather be set quick i' th' earth. + And bowl'd to death with turnips. + MRS. PAGE. Come, trouble not yourself. Good Master + Fenton, + I will not be your friend, nor enemy; + My daughter will I question how she loves you, + And as I find her, so am I affected; + Till then, farewell, sir; she must needs go in; + Her father will be angry. + FENTON. Farewell, gentle mistress; farewell, Nan. + Exeunt MRS. PAGE and ANNE + QUICKLY. This is my doing now: 'Nay,' said I 'will you cast + away your child on a fool, and a physician? Look on + Master Fenton.' This is my doing. + FENTON. I thank thee; and I pray thee, once to-night + Give my sweet Nan this ring. There's for thy pains. + QUICKLY. Now Heaven send thee good fortune! [Exit + FENTON] A kind heart he hath; a woman would run through + fire and water for such a kind heart. But yet I would my + master had Mistress Anne; or I would Master Slender had + her; or, in sooth, I would Master Fenton had her; I will + do what I can for them all three, for so I have promis'd, + and I'll be as good as my word; but speciously for Master + Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to Sir John Falstaff + from my two mistresses. What a beast am I to slack it! + Exit + + + + +SCENE 5. + +The Garter Inn + +Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH + + FALSTAFF. Bardolph, I say! + BARDOLPH. Here, sir. + FALSTAFF. Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in 't. + Exit BARDOLPH + Have I liv'd to be carried in a basket, like a barrow of + butcher's offal, and to be thrown in the Thames? Well, if + I be serv'd such another trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out + and butter'd, and give them to a dog for a new-year's gift. + The rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse + as they would have drown'd a blind bitch's puppies, fifteen + i' th' litter; and you may know by my size that I have + a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the bottom were as deep as + hell I should down. I had been drown'd but that the shore + was shelvy and shallow-a death that I abhor; for the water + swells a man; and what a thing should I have been when + had been swell'd! I should have been a mountain of + mummy. + + Re-enter BARDOLPH, with sack + + BARDOLPH. Here's Mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with you + FALSTAFF. Come, let me pour in some sack to the Thames + water; for my belly's as cold as if I had swallow'd + snowballs for pills to cool the reins. Call her in. + BARDOLPH. Come in, woman. + + Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY + + QUICKLY. By your leave; I cry you mercy. Give your + worship good morrow. + FALSTAFF. Take away these chalices. Go, brew me a pottle + of sack finely. + BARDOLPH. With eggs, sir? + FALSTAFF. Simple of itself; I'll no pullet-sperm in my + brewage. [Exit BARDOLPH] How now! + QUICKLY. Marry, sir, I come to your worship from Mistress + Ford. + FALSTAFF. Mistress Ford! I have had ford enough; I was + thrown into the ford; I have my belly full of ford. + QUICKLY. Alas the day, good heart, that was not her fault! + She does so take on with her men; they mistook their + erection. + FALSTAFF. So did I mine, to build upon a foolish woman's + promise. + QUICKLY. Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it would yearn + your heart to see it. Her husband goes this morning + a-birding; she desires you once more to come to her between + eight and nine; I must carry her word quickly. She'll make + you amends, I warrant you. + FALSTAFF. Well, I Will visit her. Tell her so; and bid her + think what a man is. Let her consider his frailty, and then + judge of my merit. + QUICKLY. I will tell her. + FALSTAFF. Do so. Between nine and ten, say'st thou? + QUICKLY. Eight and nine, sir. + FALSTAFF. Well, be gone; I will not miss her. + QUICKLY. Peace be with you, sir. Exit + FALSTAFF. I marvel I hear not of Master Brook; he sent me + word to stay within. I like his money well. O, here he + comes. + + Enter FORD disguised + + FORD. Bless you, sir! + FALSTAFF. Now, Master Brook, you come to know what + hath pass'd between me and Ford's wife? + FORD. That, indeed, Sir John, is my business. + FALSTAFF. Master Brook, I will not lie to you; I was at her + house the hour she appointed me. + FORD. And sped you, sir? + FALSTAFF. Very ill-favouredly, Master Brook. + FORD. How so, sir; did she change her determination? + FALSTAFF. No. Master Brook; but the peaking cornuto her + husband, Master Brook, dwelling in a continual 'larum of + jealousy, comes me in the instant of our, encounter, after + we had embrac'd, kiss'd, protested, and, as it were, spoke + the prologue of our comedy; and at his heels a rabble of his + companions, thither provoked and instigated by his + distemper, and, forsooth, to search his house for his wife's + love. + FORD. What, while you were there? + FALSTAFF. While I was there. + FORD. And did he search for you, and could not find you? + FALSTAFF. You shall hear. As good luck would have it, comes + in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach; + and, in her invention and Ford's wife's distraction, they + convey'd me into a buck-basket. + FORD. A buck-basket! + FALSTAFF. By the Lord, a buck-basket! Ramm'd me in with + foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, greasy + napkins, that, Master Brook, there was the rankest compound + of villainous smell that ever offended nostril. + FORD. And how long lay you there? + FALSTAFF. Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, what I have + suffer'd to bring this woman to evil for your good. Being + thus cramm'd in the basket, a couple of Ford's knaves, his + hinds, were call'd forth by their mistress to carry me in + the name of foul clothes to Datchet Lane; they took me on + their shoulders; met the jealous knave their master in the + door; who ask'd them once or twice what they had in their + basket. I quak'd for fear lest the lunatic knave would have + search'd it; but Fate, ordaining he should be a cuckold, + held his hand. Well, on went he for a search, and away + went I for foul clothes. But mark the sequel, Master + Brook-I suffered the pangs of three several deaths: first, + an intolerable fright to be detected with a jealous rotten + bell-wether; next, to be compass'd like a good bilbo in the + circumference of a peck, hilt to point, heel to head; and + then, to be stopp'd in, like a strong distillation, with + stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease. Think of that + -a man of my kidney. Think of that-that am as subject to + heat as butter; a man of continual dissolution and thaw. It + was a miracle to scape suffocation. And in the height of + this bath, when I was more than half-stew'd in grease, like + a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames, and cool'd, + glowing hot, in that surge, like a horse-shoe; think of that + -hissing hot. Think of that, Master Brook. + FORD. In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for my sake you + have suffer'd all this. My suit, then, is desperate; + you'll undertake her no more. + FALSTAFF. Master Brook, I will be thrown into Etna, as I + have been into Thames, ere I will leave her thus. Her + husband is this morning gone a-birding; I have received from + her another embassy of meeting; 'twixt eight and nine is + the hour, Master Brook. + FORD. 'Tis past eight already, sir. + FALSTAFF. Is it? I Will then address me to my appointment. + Come to me at your convenient leisure, and you shall + know how I speed; and the conclusion shall be crowned + with your enjoying her. Adieu. You shall have her, Master + Brook; Master Brook, you shall cuckold Ford. Exit + FORD. Hum! ha! Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep? + Master Ford, awake; awake, Master Ford. There's a hole + made in your best coat, Master Ford. This 'tis to be + married; this 'tis to have linen and buck-baskets! Well, I will + proclaim myself what I am; I will now take the lecher; he + is at my house. He cannot scape me; 'tis impossible he + should; he cannot creep into a halfpenny purse nor into + a pepper box. But, lest the devil that guides him should aid + him, I will search impossible places. Though what I am I + cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not shall not make + me tame. If I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb + go with me-I'll be horn mad. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. + +Windsor. A street + +Enter MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS QUICKLY, and WILLIAM + + MRS. PAGE. Is he at Master Ford's already, think'st thou? + QUICKLY. Sure he is by this; or will be presently; but truly + he is very courageous mad about his throwing into the + water. Mistress Ford desires you to come suddenly. + MRS. PAGE. I'll be with her by and by; I'll but bring my + young man here to school. Look where his master comes; + 'tis a playing day, I see. + + Enter SIR HUGH EVANS + + How now, Sir Hugh, no school to-day? + EVANS. No; Master Slender is let the boys leave to play. + QUICKLY. Blessing of his heart! + MRS. PAGE. Sir Hugh, my husband says my son profits + nothing in the world at his book; I pray you ask him some + questions in his accidence. + EVANS. Come hither, William; hold up your head; come. + MRS. PAGE. Come on, sirrah; hold up your head; answer your + master; be not afraid. + EVANS. William, how many numbers is in nouns? + WILLIAM. Two. + QUICKLY. Truly, I thought there had been one number + more, because they say 'Od's nouns.' + EVANS. Peace your tattlings. What is 'fair,' William? + WILLIAM. Pulcher. + QUICKLY. Polecats! There are fairer things than polecats, + sure. + EVANS. You are a very simplicity oman; I pray you, peace. + What is 'lapis,' William? + WILLIAM. A stone. + EVANS. And what is 'a stone,' William? + WILLIAM. A pebble. + EVANS. No, it is 'lapis'; I pray you remember in your prain. + WILLIAM. Lapis. + EVANS. That is a good William. What is he, William, that + does lend articles? + WILLIAM. Articles are borrowed of the pronoun, and be + thus declined: Singulariter, nominativo; hic, haec, hoc. + EVANS. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; pray you, mark: genitivo, + hujus. Well, what is your accusative case? + WILLIAM. Accusativo, hinc. + EVANS. I pray you, have your remembrance, child. + Accusativo, hung, hang, hog. + QUICKLY. 'Hang-hog' is Latin for bacon, I warrant you. + EVANS. Leave your prabbles, oman. What is the focative + case, William? + WILLIAM. O-vocativo, O. + EVANS. Remember, William: focative is caret. + QUICKLY. And that's a good root. + EVANS. Oman, forbear. + MRS. PAGE. Peace. + EVANS. What is your genitive case plural, William? + WILLIAM. Genitive case? + EVANS. Ay. + WILLIAM. Genitive: horum, harum, horum. + QUICKLY. Vengeance of Jenny's case; fie on her! Never + name her, child, if she be a whore. + EVANS. For shame, oman. + QUICKLY. YOU do ill to teach the child such words. He + teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do fast + enough of themselves; and to call 'horum'; fie upon you! + EVANS. Oman, art thou lunatics? Hast thou no understandings + for thy cases, and the numbers of the genders? Thou + art as foolish Christian creatures as I would desires. + MRS. PAGE. Prithee hold thy peace. + EVANS. Show me now, William, some declensions of your + pronouns. + WILLIAM. Forsooth, I have forgot. + EVANS. It is qui, quae, quod; if you forget your qui's, your + quae's, and your quod's, you must be preeches. Go your + ways and play; go. + MRS. PAGE. He is a better scholar than I thought he was. + EVANS. He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, Mistress Page. + MRS. PAGE. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. Exit SIR HUGH + Get you home, boy. Come, we stay too long. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. + +FORD'S house + +Enter FALSTAFF and MISTRESS FORD + + FALSTAFF. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my + sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, and I + profess requital to a hair's breadth; not only, Mistress Ford, in + the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement, + complement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure of your + husband now? + MRS. FORD. He's a-birding, sweet Sir John. + MRS. PAGE. [Within] What hoa, gossip Ford, what hoa! + MRS. FORD. Step into th' chamber, Sir John. Exit FALSTAFF + + Enter MISTRESS PAGE + + MRS. PAGE. How now, sweetheart, who's at home besides + yourself? + MRS. FORD. Why, none but mine own people. + MRS. PAGE. Indeed? + MRS. FORD. No, certainly. [Aside to her] Speak louder. + MRS. PAGE. Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here. + MRS. FORD. Why? + MRS. PAGE. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes + again. He so takes on yonder with my husband; so rails + against all married mankind; so curses an Eve's daughters, + of what complexion soever; and so buffets himself on the + forehead, crying 'Peer-out, peer-out!' that any madness I + ever yet beheld seem'd but tameness, civility, and patience, + to this his distemper he is in now. I am glad the fat knight + is not here. + MRS. FORD. Why, does he talk of him? + MRS. PAGE. Of none but him; and swears he was carried out, + the last time he search'd for him, in a basket; protests to + my husband he is now here; and hath drawn him and the + rest of their company from their sport, to make another + experiment of his suspicion. But I am glad the knight is not + here; now he shall see his own foolery. + MRS. FORD. How near is he, Mistress Page? + MRS. PAGE. Hard by, at street end; he will be here anon. + MRS. FORD. I am undone: the knight is here. + MRS. PAGE. Why, then, you are utterly sham'd, and he's but + a dead man. What a woman are you! Away with him, + away with him; better shame than murder. + MRS. FORD. Which way should he go? How should I bestow + him? Shall I put him into the basket again? + + Re-enter FALSTAFF + + FALSTAFF. No, I'll come no more i' th' basket. May I not go + out ere he come? + MRS. PAGE. Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch the + door with pistols, that none shall issue out; otherwise you + might slip away ere he came. But what make you here? + FALSTAFF. What shall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney. + MRS. FORD. There they always use to discharge their + birding-pieces. + MRS. PAGE. Creep into the kiln-hole. + FALSTAFF. Where is it? + MRS. FORD. He will seek there, on my word. Neither press, + coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for + the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his + note. There is no hiding you in the house. + FALSTAFF. I'll go out then. + MRS. PAGE. If you go out in your own semblance, you die, + Sir John. Unless you go out disguis'd. + MRS. FORD. How might we disguise him? + MRS. PAGE. Alas the day, I know not! There is no woman's + gown big enough for him; otherwise he might put on a + hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape. + FALSTAFF. Good hearts, devise something; any extremity + rather than a mischief. + MRS. FORD. My Maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brainford, has + a gown above. + MRS. PAGE. On my word, it will serve him; she's as big as he + is; and there's her thrumm'd hat, and her muffler too. Run + up, Sir John. + MRS. FORD. Go, go, sweet Sir John. Mistress Page and I will + look some linen for your head. + MRS. PAGE. Quick, quick; we'll come dress you straight. Put + on the gown the while. Exit FALSTAFF + MRS. FORD. I would my husband would meet him in this + shape; he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he + swears she's a witch, forbade her my house, and hath + threat'ned to beat her. + MRS. PAGE. Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel; and + the devil guide his cudgel afterwards! + MRS. FORD. But is my husband coming? + MRS. PAGE. Ay, in good sadness is he; and talks of the basket + too, howsoever he hath had intelligence. + MRS. FORD. We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry + the basket again, to meet him at the door with it as they + did last time. + MRS. PAGE. Nay, but he'll be here presently; let's go dress + him like the witch of Brainford. + MRS. FORD. I'll first direct my men what they shall do with + the basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him straight. Exit + MRS. PAGE. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot misuse + him enough. + We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, + Wives may be merry and yet honest too. + We do not act that often jest and laugh; + 'Tis old but true: Still swine eats all the draff. Exit + + Re-enter MISTRESS FORD, with two SERVANTS + + MRS. FORD. Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders; + your master is hard at door; if he bid you set it down, obey + him; quickly, dispatch. Exit + FIRST SERVANT. Come, come, take it up. + SECOND SERVANT. Pray heaven it be not full of knight again. + FIRST SERVANT. I hope not; I had lief as bear so much lead. + + Enter FORD, PAGE, SHALLOW, CAIUS, and SIR HUGH EVANS + + FORD. Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any + way then to unfool me again? Set down the basket, villain! + Somebody call my wife. Youth in a basket! O you panderly + rascals, there's a knot, a ging, a pack, a conspiracy + against me. Now shall the devil be sham'd. What, wife, I + say! Come, come forth; behold what honest clothes you + send forth to bleaching. + PAGE. Why, this passes, Master Ford; you are not to go loose + any longer; you must be pinion'd. + EVANS. Why, this is lunatics. This is mad as a mad dog. + SHALLOW. Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, indeed. + FORD. So say I too, sir. + + Re-enter MISTRESS FORD + + Come hither, Mistress Ford; Mistress Ford, the honest + woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath + the jealous fool to her husband! I suspect without cause, + Mistress, do I? + MRS. FORD. Heaven be my witness, you do, if you suspect + me in any dishonesty. + FORD. Well said, brazen-face; hold it out. Come forth, sirrah. + [Pulling clothes out of the basket] + PAGE. This passes! + MRS. FORD. Are you not asham'd? Let the clothes alone. + FORD. I shall find you anon. + EVANS. 'Tis unreasonable. Will you take up your wife's + clothes? Come away. + FORD. Empty the basket, I say. + MRS. FORD. Why, man, why? + FORD. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one convey'd + out of my house yesterday in this basket. Why may not + he be there again? In my house I am sure he is; my + intelligence is true; my jealousy is reasonable. + Pluck me out all the linen. + MRS. FORD. If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's + death. + PAGE. Here's no man. + SHALLOW. By my fidelity, this is not well, Master Ford; this + wrongs you. + EVANS. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the + imaginations of your own heart; this is jealousies. + FORD. Well, he's not here I seek for. + PAGE. No, nor nowhere else but in your brain. + FORD. Help to search my house this one time. If I find not + what I seek, show no colour for my extremity; let me for + ever be your table sport; let them say of me 'As jealous as + Ford, that search'd a hollow walnut for his wife's leman.' + Satisfy me once more; once more search with me. + MRS. FORD. What, hoa, Mistress Page! Come you and the old + woman down; my husband will come into the chamber. + FORD. Old woman? what old woman's that? + MRS. FORD. Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brainford. + FORD. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have I not + forbid her my house? She comes of errands, does she? We + are simple men; we do not know what's brought to pass + under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by + charms, by spells, by th' figure, and such daub'ry as this + is, beyond our element. We know nothing. Come down, you + witch, you hag you; come down, I say. + MRS. FORD. Nay, good sweet husband! Good gentlemen, let + him not strike the old woman. + + Re-enter FALSTAFF in woman's clothes, and MISTRESS PAGE + + MRS. PAGE. Come, Mother Prat; come. give me your hand. + FORD. I'll prat her. [Beating him] Out of my door, you + witch, you hag, you. baggage, you polecat, you ronyon! + Out, out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you. + Exit FALSTAFF + MRS. PAGE. Are you not asham'd? I think you have kill'd the + poor woman. + MRS. FORD. Nay, he will do it. 'Tis a goodly credit for you. + FORD. Hang her, witch! + EVANS. By yea and no, I think the oman is a witch indeed; I + like not when a oman has a great peard; I spy a great peard + under his muffler. + FORD. Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you follow; + see but the issue of my jealousy; if I cry out thus upon no + trail, never trust me when I open again. + PAGE. Let's obey his humour a little further. Come, + gentlemen. Exeunt all but MRS. FORD and MRS. PAGE + MRS. PAGE. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully. + MRS. FORD. Nay, by th' mass, that he did not; he beat him + most unpitifully methought. + MRS. PAGE. I'll have the cudgel hallow'd and hung o'er the + altar; it hath done meritorious service. + MRS. FORD. What think you? May we, with the warrant of + womanhood and the witness of a good conscience, pursue + him with any further revenge? + MRS. PAGE. The spirit of wantonness is sure scar'd out of + him; if the devil have him not in fee-simple, with fine and + recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of waste, + attempt us again. + MRS. FORD. Shall we tell our husbands how we have serv'd + him? + MRS. PAGE. Yes, by all means; if it be but to scrape the + figures out of your husband's brains. If they can find in their + hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any further + afflicted, we two will still be the ministers. + MRS. FORD. I'll warrant they'll have him publicly sham'd; + and methinks there would be no period to the jest, should + he not be publicly sham'd. + MRS. PAGE. Come, to the forge with it then; shape it. I + would not have things cool. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +The Garter Inn + +Enter HOST and BARDOLPH + + BARDOLPH. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of your + horses; the Duke himself will be to-morrow at court, and + they are going to meet him. + HOST. What duke should that be comes so secretly? I hear + not of him in the court. Let me speak with the gentlemen; + they speak English? + BARDOLPH. Ay, sir; I'll call them to you. + HOST. They shall have my horses, but I'll make them pay; + I'll sauce them; they have had my house a week at + command; I have turn'd away my other guests. They must + come off; I'll sauce them. Come. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4 + +FORD'S house + +Enter PAGE, FORD, MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and SIR HUGH EVANS + + EVANS. 'Tis one of the best discretions of a oman as ever + did look upon. + PAGE. And did he send you both these letters at an instant? + MRS. PAGE. Within a quarter of an hour. + FORD. Pardon me, wife. Henceforth, do what thou wilt; + I rather will suspect the sun with cold + Than thee with wantonness. Now doth thy honour stand, + In him that was of late an heretic, + As firm as faith. + PAGE. 'Tis well, 'tis well; no more. + Be not as extreme in submission as in offence; + But let our plot go forward. Let our wives + Yet once again, to make us public sport, + Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, + Where we may take him and disgrace him for it. + FORD. There is no better way than that they spoke of. + PAGE. How? To send him word they'll meet him in the Park + at midnight? Fie, fie! he'll never come! + EVANS. You say he has been thrown in the rivers; and has + been grievously peaten as an old oman; methinks there + should be terrors in him, that he should not come; + methinks his flesh is punish'd; he shall have no desires. + PAGE. So think I too. + MRS. FORD. Devise but how you'll use him when he comes, + And let us two devise to bring him thither. + MRS. PAGE. There is an old tale goes that Heme the Hunter, + Sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest, + Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, + Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns; + And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, + And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain + In a most hideous and dreadful manner. + You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know + The superstitious idle-headed eld + Receiv'd, and did deliver to our age, + This tale of Heme the Hunter for a truth. + PAGE. Why yet there want not many that do fear + In deep of night to walk by this Herne's oak. + But what of this? + MRS. FORD. Marry, this is our device- + That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us, + Disguis'd, like Heme, with huge horns on his head. + PAGE. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come, + And in this shape. When you have brought him thither, + What shall be done with him? What is your plot? + MRS. PAGE. That likewise have we thought upon, and + thus: + Nan Page my daughter, and my little son, + And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress + Like urchins, ouphes, and fairies, green and white, + With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads, + And rattles in their hands; upon a sudden, + As Falstaff, she, and I, are newly met, + Let them from forth a sawpit rush at once + With some diffused song; upon their sight + We two in great amazedness will fly. + Then let them all encircle him about, + And fairy-like, to pinch the unclean knight; + And ask him why, that hour of fairy revel, + In their so sacred paths he dares to tread + In shape profane. + MRS. FORD. And till he tell the truth, + Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound, + And burn him with their tapers. + MRS. PAGE. The truth being known, + We'll all present ourselves; dis-horn the spirit, + And mock him home to Windsor. + FORD. The children must + Be practis'd well to this or they'll nev'r do 't. + EVANS. I will teach the children their behaviours; and I will + be like a jack-an-apes also, to burn the knight with my + taber. + FORD. That will be excellent. I'll go buy them vizards. + MRS. PAGE. My Nan shall be the Queen of all the Fairies, + Finely attired in a robe of white. + PAGE. That silk will I go buy. [Aside] And in that time + Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away, + And marry her at Eton.-Go, send to Falstaff straight. + FORD. Nay, I'll to him again, in name of Brook; + He'll tell me all his purpose. Sure, he'll come. + MRS. PAGE. Fear not you that. Go get us properties + And tricking for our fairies. + EVANS. Let us about it. It is admirable pleasures, and fery + honest knaveries. Exeunt PAGE, FORD, and EVANS + MRS. PAGE. Go, Mistress Ford. + Send Quickly to Sir John to know his mind. + Exit MRS. FORD + I'll to the Doctor; he hath my good will, + And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. + That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot; + And he my husband best of all affects. + The Doctor is well money'd, and his friends + Potent at court; he, none but he, shall have her, + Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. Exit + + + + +SCENE 5. + +The Garter Inn + +Enter HOST and SIMPLE + + HOST. What wouldst thou have, boor? What, thick-skin? + Speak, breathe, discuss; brief, short, quick, snap. + SIMPLE. Marry, sir, I come to speak with Sir John Falstaff + from Master Slender. + HOST. There's his chamber, his house, his castle, his + standing-bed and truckle-bed; 'tis painted about with the + story of the Prodigal, fresh and new. Go, knock and can; he'll + speak like an Anthropophaginian unto thee. Knock, I say. + SIMPLE. There's an old woman, a fat woman, gone up into + his chamber; I'll be so bold as stay, sir, till she come down; + I come to speak with her, indeed. + HOST. Ha! a fat woman? The knight may be robb'd. I'll call. + Bully knight! Bully Sir John! Speak from thy lungs + military. Art thou there? It is thine host, thine Ephesian, calls. + FALSTAFF. [Above] How now, mine host? + HOST. Here's a Bohemian-Tartar tarries the coming down of + thy fat woman. Let her descend, bully, let her descend; + my chambers are honourible. Fie, privacy, fie! + + Enter FALSTAFF + + FALSTAFF. There was, mine host, an old fat woman even + now with, me; but she's gone. + SIMPLE. Pray you, sir, was't not the wise woman of + Brainford? + FALSTAFF. Ay, marry was it, mussel-shell. What would you + with her? + SIMPLE. My master, sir, my Master Slender, sent to her, + seeing her go thorough the streets, to know, sir, whether one + Nym, sir, that beguil'd him of a chain, had the chain or no. + FALSTAFF. I spake with the old woman about it. + SIMPLE. And what says she, I pray, sir? + FALSTAFF Marry, she says that the very same man that + beguil'd Master Slender of his chain cozen'd him of it. + SIMPLE. I would I could have spoken with the woman + herself; I had other things to have spoken with her too, + from him. + FALSTAFF. What are they? Let us know. + HOST. Ay, come; quick. + SIMPLE. I may not conceal them, sir. + FALSTAFF. Conceal them, or thou diest. + SIMPLE.. Why, sir, they were nothing but about Mistress + Anne Page: to know if it were my master's fortune to + have her or no. + FALSTAFF. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune. + SIMPLE. What sir? + FALSTAFF. To have her, or no. Go; say the woman told me + so. + SIMPLE. May I be bold to say so, sir? + FALSTAFF. Ay, sir, like who more bold? + SIMPLE., I thank your worship; I shall make my master glad + with these tidings. Exit SIMPLE + HOST. Thou art clerkly, thou art clerkly, Sir John. Was + there a wise woman with thee? + FALSTAFF. Ay, that there was, mine host; one that hath + taught me more wit than ever I learn'd before in my life; + and I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my + learning. + + Enter BARDOLPH + + BARDOLPH. Out, alas, sir, cozenage, mere cozenage! + HOST. Where be my horses? Speak well of them, varletto. + BARDOLPH. Run away with the cozeners; for so soon as I + came beyond Eton, they threw me off from behind one of + them, in a slough of mire; and set spurs and away, like + three German devils, three Doctor Faustuses. + HOST. They are gone but to meet the Duke, villain; do not + say they be fled. Germans are honest men. + + Enter SIR HUGH EVANS + + EVANS. Where is mine host? + HOST. What is the matter, sir? + EVANS. Have a care of your entertainments. There is a friend + of mine come to town tells me there is three + cozen-germans that has cozen'd all the hosts of Readins, + of Maidenhead, of Colebrook, of horses and money. I tell you for + good will, look you; you are wise, and full of gibes and + vlouting-stogs, and 'tis not convenient you should be + cozened. Fare you well. Exit + + Enter DOCTOR CAIUS + + CAIUS. Vere is mine host de Jarteer? + HOST. Here, Master Doctor, in perplexity and doubtful + dilemma. + CAIUS. I cannot tell vat is dat; but it is tell-a me dat you + make grand preparation for a Duke de Jamany. By my + trot, dere is no duke that the court is know to come; I + tell you for good will. Adieu. Exit + HOST. Hue and cry, villain, go! Assist me, knight; I am + undone. Fly, run, hue and cry, villain; I am undone. + Exeunt HOST and BARDOLPH + FALSTAFF. I would all the world might be cozen'd, for I have + been cozen'd and beaten too. If it should come to the car + of the court how I have been transformed, and how my + transformation hath been wash'd and cudgell'd, they + would melt me out of my fat, drop by drop, and liquor + fishermen's boots with me; I warrant they would whip me + with their fine wits till I were as crestfall'n as a dried pear. + I never prosper'd since I forswore myself at primero. Well, + if my wind were but long enough to say my prayers, + would repent. + + Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY + + Now! whence come you? + QUICKLY. From the two parties, forsooth. + FALSTAFF. The devil take one party and his dam the other! + And so they shall be both bestowed. I have suffer'd more + for their sakes, more than the villainous inconstancy of + man's disposition is able to bear. + QUICKLY. And have not they suffer'd? Yes, I warrant; + speciously one of them; Mistress Ford, good heart, is beaten + black and blue, that you cannot see a white spot about her. + FALSTAFF. What tell'st thou me of black and blue? I was + beaten myself into all the colours of the rainbow; and + was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brainford. But + that my admirable dexterity of wit, my counterfeiting the + action of an old woman, deliver'd me, the knave constable + had set me i' th' stocks, i' th' common stocks, for a witch. + QUICKLY. Sir, let me speak with you in your chamber; you + shall hear how things go, and, I warrant, to your content. + Here is a letter will say somewhat. Good hearts, what ado + here is to bring you together! Sure, one of you does not + serve heaven well, that you are so cross'd. + FALSTAFF. Come up into my chamber. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 6. + +The Garter Inn + +Enter FENTON and HOST + + HOST. Master Fenton, talk not to me; my mind is heavy; I + will give over all. + FENTON. Yet hear me speak. Assist me in my purpose, + And, as I am a gentleman, I'll give the + A hundred pound in gold more than your loss. + HOST. I will hear you, Master Fenton; and I will, at the least, + keep your counsel. + FENTON. From time to time I have acquainted you + With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page; + Who, mutually, hath answer'd my affection, + So far forth as herself might be her chooser, + Even to my wish. I have a letter from her + Of such contents as you will wonder at; + The mirth whereof so larded with my matter + That neither, singly, can be manifested + Without the show of both. Fat Falstaff + Hath a great scene. The image of the jest + I'll show you here at large. Hark, good mine host: + To-night at Heme's oak, just 'twixt twelve and one, + Must my sweet Nan present the Fairy Queen- + The purpose why is here-in which disguise, + While other jests are something rank on foot, + Her father hath commanded her to slip + Away with Slender, and with him at Eton + Immediately to marry; she hath consented. + Now, sir, + Her mother, even strong against that match + And firm for Doctor Caius, hath appointed + That he shall likewise shuffle her away + While other sports are tasking of their minds, + And at the dean'ry, where a priest attends, + Straight marry her. To this her mother's plot + She seemingly obedient likewise hath + Made promise to the doctor. Now thus it rests: + Her father means she shall be all in white; + And in that habit, when Slender sees his time + To take her by the hand and bid her go, + She shall go with him; her mother hath intended + The better to denote her to the doctor- + For they must all be mask'd and vizarded- + That quaint in green she shall be loose enrob'd, + With ribands pendent, flaring 'bout her head; + And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, + To pinch her by the hand, and, on that token, + The maid hath given consent to go with him. + HOST. Which means she to deceive, father or mother? + FENTON. Both, my good host, to go along with me. + And here it rests-that you'll procure the vicar + To stay for me at church, 'twixt twelve and one, + And in the lawful name of marrying, + To give our hearts united ceremony. + HOST. Well, husband your device; I'll to the vicar. + Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest. + FENTON. So shall I evermore be bound to thee; + Besides, I'll make a present recompense. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1. + +The Garter Inn + +Enter FALSTAFF and MISTRESS QUICKLY + + FALSTAFF. Prithee, no more prattling; go. I'll, hold. This is + the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. + Away, go; they say there is divinity in odd numbers, either + in nativity, chance, or death. Away. + QUICKLY. I'll provide you a chain, and I'll do what I can to + get you a pair of horns. + FALSTAFF. Away, I say; time wears; hold up your head, and + mince. Exit MRS. QUICKLY + + Enter FORD disguised + + How now, Master Brook. Master Brook, the matter will + be known tonight or never. Be you in the Park about + midnight, at Herne's oak, and you shall see wonders. + FORD. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you told me + you had appointed? + FALSTAFF. I went to her, Master Brook, as you see, like a + poor old man; but I came from her, Master Brook, like a + poor old woman. That same knave Ford, her husband, hath + the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, Master Brook, that + ever govern'd frenzy. I will tell you-he beat me grievously + in the shape of a woman; for in the shape of man, Master + Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver's beam; because + I know also life is a shuttle. I am in haste; go along with + me; I'll. tell you all, Master Brook. Since I pluck'd geese, + play'd truant, and whipp'd top, I knew not what 'twas to + be beaten till lately. Follow me. I'll tell you strange things + of this knave-Ford, on whom to-night I will be revenged, + and I will deliver his wife into your hand. Follow. Strange + things in hand, Master Brook! Follow. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. + +Windsor Park + +Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER + + PAGE. Come, come; we'll couch i' th' Castle ditch till we + see the light of our fairies. Remember, son Slender, my daughter. + SLENDER. Ay, forsooth; I have spoke with her, and we have + a nay-word how to know one another. I come to her in + white and cry 'mum'; she cries 'budget,' and by that we + know one another. + SHALLOW. That's good too; but what needs either your mum + or her budget? The white will decipher her well enough. + It hath struck ten o'clock. + PAGE. The night is dark; light and spirits will become it well. + Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil but the + devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let's away; + follow me. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +A street leading to the Park + +Enter MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and DOCTOR CAIUS + + MRS. PAGE. Master Doctor, my daughter is in green; when + you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to + the deanery, and dispatch it quickly. Go before into the + Park; we two must go together. + CAIUS. I know vat I have to do; adieu. + MRS. PAGE. Fare you well, sir. [Exit CAIUS] My husband + will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff as he will + chafe at the doctor's marrying my daughter; but 'tis no + matter; better a little chiding than a great deal of + heartbreak. + MRS. FORD. Where is Nan now, and her troop of fairies, and + the Welsh devil, Hugh? + MRS. PAGE. They are all couch'd in a pit hard by Heme's + oak, with obscur'd lights; which, at the very instant of + Falstaff's and our meeting, they will at once display to the + night. + MRS. FORD. That cannot choose but amaze him. + MRS. PAGE. If he be not amaz'd, he will be mock'd; if he be + amaz'd, he will every way be mock'd. + MRS. FORD. We'll betray him finely. + MRS. PAGE. Against such lewdsters and their lechery, + Those that betray them do no treachery. + MRS. FORD. The hour draws on. To the oak, to the oak! + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +Windsor Park + +Enter SIR HUGH EVANS like a satyr, with OTHERS as fairies + + EVANS. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and remember your parts. + Be pold, I pray you; follow me into the pit; and when I + give the watch-ords, do as I pid you. Come, come; trib, + trib. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 5. + +Another part of the Park + +Enter FALSTAFF disguised as HERNE + + FALSTAFF. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute + draws on. Now the hot-blooded gods assist me! + Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa; love set on thy + horns. O powerful love! that in some respects makes a + beast a man; in some other a man a beast. You were also, + Jupiter, a swan, for the love of Leda. O omnipotent love! + how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose! A + fault done first in the form of a beast-O Jove, a beastly + fault!-and then another fault in the semblance of a fowl- + think on't, Jove, a foul fault! When gods have hot backs + what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a Windsor + stag; and the fattest, I think, i' th' forest. Send me a cool + rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow? + Who comes here? my doe? + + Enter MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE + + MRS. FORD. Sir John! Art thou there, my deer, my male deer. + FALSTAFF. My doe with the black scut! Let the sky rain + potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Greensleeves, hail + kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest + of provocation, I will shelter me here. [Embracing her] + MRS. FORD. Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart. + FALSTAFF. Divide me like a brib'd buck, each a haunch; I + will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow + of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am + I a woodman, ha? Speak I like Heme the Hunter? Why, + now is Cupid a child of conscience; he makes restitution. + As I am a true spirit, welcome! [A noise of horns] + MRS. PAGE. Alas, what noise? + MRS. FORD. Heaven forgive our sins! + FALSTAFF. What should this be? + MRS. FORD. } Away, away. + MRS. PAGE. } Away, away. [They run off] + FALSTAFF. I think the devil will not have me damn'd, lest the + oil that's in me should set hell on fire; he would never else + cross me thus. + + Enter SIR HUGH EVANS like a satyr, ANNE PAGE as + a fairy, and OTHERS as the Fairy Queen, fairies, and + Hobgoblin; all with tapers + + FAIRY QUEEN. Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, + You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, + You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, + Attend your office and your quality. + Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy oyes. + PUCK. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys. + Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap; + Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths unswept, + There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry; + Our radiant Queen hates sluts and sluttery. + FALSTAFF. They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die. + I'll wink and couch; no man their works must eye. + [Lies down upon his face] + EVANS. Where's Pede? Go you, and where you find a maid + That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, + Raise up the organs of her fantasy + Sleep she as sound as careless infancy; + But those as sleep and think not on their sins, + Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins. + FAIRY QUEEN. About, about; + Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out; + Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room, + That it may stand till the perpetual doom + In state as wholesome as in state 'tis fit, + Worthy the owner and the owner it. + The several chairs of order look you scour + With juice of balm and every precious flower; + Each fair instalment, coat, and sev'ral crest, + With loyal blazon, evermore be blest! + And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing, + Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring; + Th' expressure that it bears, green let it be, + More fertile-fresh than all the field to see; + And 'Honi soit qui mal y pense' write + In em'rald tufts, flow'rs purple, blue and white; + Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, + Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee. + Fairies use flow'rs for their charactery. + Away, disperse; but till 'tis one o'clock, + Our dance of custom round about the oak + Of Herne the Hunter let us not forget. + EVANS. Pray you, lock hand in hand; yourselves in order set; + And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, + To guide our measure round about the tree. + But, stay. I smell a man of middle earth. + FALSTAFF. Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest he + transform me to a piece of cheese! + PUCK. Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth. + FAIRY QUEEN. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end; + If he be chaste, the flame will back descend, + And turn him to no pain; but if he start, + It is the flesh of a corrupted heart. + PUCK. A trial, come. + EVANS. Come, will this wood take fire? + [They put the tapers to his fingers, and he starts] + FALSTAFF. Oh, oh, oh! + FAIRY QUEEN. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire! + About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme; + And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. + THE SONG. + Fie on sinful fantasy! + Fie on lust and luxury! + Lust is but a bloody fire, + Kindled with unchaste desire, + Fed in heart, whose flames aspire, + As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher. + Pinch him, fairies, mutually; + Pinch him for his villainy; + Pinch him and burn him and turn him about, + Till candles and star-light and moonshine be out. + + During this song they pinch FALSTAFF. DOCTOR + CAIUS comes one way, and steals away a fairy in + green; SLENDER another way, and takes off a fairy in + white; and FENTON steals away ANNE PAGE. A noise + of hunting is heard within. All the fairies run away. + FALSTAFF pulls off his buck's head, and rises + + Enter PAGE, FORD, MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and + SIR HUGH EVANS + + PAGE. Nay, do not fly; I think we have watch'd you now. + Will none but Heme the Hunter serve your turn? + MRS. PAGE. I pray you, come, hold up the jest no higher. + Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives? + See you these, husband? Do not these fair yokes + Become the forest better than the town? + FORD. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now? Master Brook, + Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave; here are his horns, + Master Brook; and, Master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of + Ford's but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds + of money, which must be paid to Master Brook; his horses + are arrested for it, Master Brook. + MRS. FORD. Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could never + meet. I will never take you for my love again; but I will + always count you my deer. + FALSTAFF. I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass. + FORD. Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are extant. + FALSTAFF. And these are not fairies? I was three or four + times in the thought they were not fairies; and yet the + guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, + drove the grossness of the foppery into a receiv'd belief, + in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they + were fairies. See now how wit may be made a Jack-a-Lent + when 'tis upon ill employment. + EVANS. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, + and fairies will not pinse you. + FORD. Well said, fairy Hugh. + EVANS. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you. + FORD. I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able + to woo her in good English. + FALSTAFF. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried it, that + it wants matter to prevent so gross, o'er-reaching as this? + Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too? Shall I have a cox-comb + of frieze? 'Tis time I were chok'd with a piece of + toasted cheese. + EVANS. Seese is not good to give putter; your belly is all + putter. + FALSTAFF. 'Seese' and 'putter'! Have I liv'd to stand at the + taunt of one that makes fritters of English? This is enough + to be the decay of lust and late-walking through the realm. + MRS. PAGE. Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would + have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and + shoulders, and have given ourselves without scruple to hell, + that ever the devil could have made you our delight? + FORD. What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax? + MRS. PAGE. A puff'd man? + PAGE. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intolerable entrails? + FORD. And one that is as slanderous as Satan? + PAGE. And as poor as Job? + FORD. And as wicked as his wife? + EVANS. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack, + and wine, and metheglins, and to drinkings, and swearings, + and starings, pribbles and prabbles? + FALSTAFF. Well, I am your theme; you have the start of me; + I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welsh flannel; + ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me; use me as you will. + FORD. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one Master + Brook, that you have cozen'd of money, to whom you + should have been a pander. Over and above that you have + suffer'd, I think to repay that money will be a biting + affliction. + PAGE. Yet be cheerful, knight; thou shalt eat a posset + tonight at my house, where I will desire thee to laugh at my + wife, that now laughs at thee. Tell her Master Slender hath + married her daughter. + MRS. PAGE. [Aside] Doctors doubt that; if Anne Page be + my daughter, she is, by this, Doctor Caius' wife. + + Enter SLENDER + + SLENDER. Whoa, ho, ho, father Page! + PAGE. Son, how now! how now, son! Have you dispatch'd'? + SLENDER. Dispatch'd! I'll make the best in Gloucestershire + know on't; would I were hang'd, la, else! + PAGE. Of what, son? + SLENDER. I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne + Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not been i' + th' church, I would have swing'd him, or he should have + swing'd me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, + would I might never stir!-and 'tis a postmaster's boy. + PAGE. Upon my life, then, you took the wrong. + SLENDER. What need you tell me that? I think so, when I + took a boy for a girl. If I had been married to him, for all + he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him. + PAGE. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you how + you should know my daughter by her garments? + SLENDER. I went to her in white and cried 'mum' and she + cried 'budget' as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was + not Anne, but a postmaster's boy. + MRS. PAGE. Good George, be not angry. I knew of your + purpose; turn'd my daughter into green; and, indeed, she + is now with the Doctor at the dean'ry, and there married. + + Enter CAIUS + + CAIUS. Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened; I ha' + married un garcon, a boy; un paysan, by gar, a boy; it is + not Anne Page; by gar, I am cozened. + MRS. PAGE. Why, did you take her in green? + CAIUS. Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy; be gar, I'll raise all + Windsor. Exit CAIUS + FORD. This is strange. Who hath got the right Anne? + PAGE. My heart misgives me; here comes Master Fenton. + + Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE + + How now, Master Fenton! + ANNE. Pardon, good father. Good my mother, pardon. + PAGE. Now, Mistress, how chance you went not with Master + Slender? + MRS. PAGE. Why went you not with Master Doctor, maid? + FENTON. You do amaze her. Hear the truth of it. + You would have married her most shamefully, + Where there was no proportion held in love. + The truth is, she and I, long since contracted, + Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us. + Th' offence is holy that she hath committed; + And this deceit loses the name of craft, + Of disobedience, or unduteous title, + Since therein she doth evitate and shun + A thousand irreligious cursed hours, + Which forced marriage would have brought upon her. + FORD. Stand not amaz'd; here is no remedy. + In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state; + Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. + FALSTAFF. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand + to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanc'd. + PAGE. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy! + What cannot be eschew'd must be embrac'd. + FALSTAFF. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chas'd. + MRS. PAGE. Well, I will muse no further. Master Fenton, + Heaven give you many, many merry days! + Good husband, let us every one go home, + And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire; + Sir John and all. + FORD. Let it be so. Sir John, + To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word; + For he, to-night, shall lie with Mistress Ford. Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1596 + +A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + THESEUS, Duke of Athens + EGEUS, father to Hermia + LYSANDER, in love with Hermia + DEMETRIUS, in love with Hermia + PHILOSTRATE, Master of the Revels to Theseus + QUINCE, a carpenter + SNUG, a joiner + BOTTOM, a weaver + FLUTE, a bellows-mender + SNOUT, a tinker + STARVELING, a tailor + + HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, bethrothed to Theseus + HERMIA, daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander + HELENA, in love with Demetrius + + OBERON, King of the Fairies + TITANIA, Queen of the Fairies + PUCK, or ROBIN GOODFELLOW + PEASEBLOSSOM, fairy + COBWEB, fairy + MOTH, fairy + MUSTARDSEED, fairy + + PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, LION are presented by: + QUINCE, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, STARVELING, AND SNUG + + Other Fairies attending their King and Queen + Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +Athens and a wood near it + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Athens. The palace of THESEUS + +Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and ATTENDANTS + + THESEUS. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour + Draws on apace; four happy days bring in + Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow + This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires, + Like to a step-dame or a dowager, + Long withering out a young man's revenue. + HIPPOLYTA. Four days will quickly steep themselves in night; + Four nights will quickly dream away the time; + And then the moon, like to a silver bow + New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night + Of our solemnities. + THESEUS. Go, Philostrate, + Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; + Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth; + Turn melancholy forth to funerals; + The pale companion is not for our pomp. Exit PHILOSTRATE + Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, + And won thy love doing thee injuries; + But I will wed thee in another key, + With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling. + + Enter EGEUS, and his daughter HERMIA, LYSANDER, + and DEMETRIUS + + EGEUS. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke! + THESEUS. Thanks, good Egeus; what's the news with thee? + EGEUS. Full of vexation come I, with complaint + Against my child, my daughter Hermia. + Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord, + This man hath my consent to marry her. + Stand forth, Lysander. And, my gracious Duke, + This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child. + Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, + And interchang'd love-tokens with my child; + Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung, + With feigning voice, verses of feigning love, + And stol'n the impression of her fantasy + With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, + Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats- messengers + Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth; + With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart; + Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me, + To stubborn harshness. And, my gracious Duke, + Be it so she will not here before your Grace + Consent to marry with Demetrius, + I beg the ancient privilege of Athens: + As she is mine I may dispose of her; + Which shall be either to this gentleman + Or to her death, according to our law + Immediately provided in that case. + THESEUS. What say you, Hermia? Be advis'd, fair maid. + To you your father should be as a god; + One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one + To whom you are but as a form in wax, + By him imprinted, and within his power + To leave the figure, or disfigure it. + Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. + HERMIA. So is Lysander. + THESEUS. In himself he is; + But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice, + The other must be held the worthier. + HERMIA. I would my father look'd but with my eyes. + THESEUS. Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. + HERMIA. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me. + I know not by what power I am made bold, + Nor how it may concern my modesty + In such a presence here to plead my thoughts; + But I beseech your Grace that I may know + The worst that may befall me in this case, + If I refuse to wed Demetrius. + THESEUS. Either to die the death, or to abjure + For ever the society of men. + Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, + Know of your youth, examine well your blood, + Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, + You can endure the livery of a nun, + For aye to be shady cloister mew'd, + To live a barren sister all your life, + Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. + Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood + To undergo such maiden pilgrimage; + But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd + Than that which withering on the virgin thorn + Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness. + HERMIA. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, + Ere I will yield my virgin patent up + Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke + My soul consents not to give sovereignty. + THESEUS. Take time to pause; and by the next new moon- + The sealing-day betwixt my love and me + For everlasting bond of fellowship- + Upon that day either prepare to die + For disobedience to your father's will, + Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would, + Or on Diana's altar to protest + For aye austerity and single life. + DEMETRIUS. Relent, sweet Hermia; and, Lysander, yield + Thy crazed title to my certain right. + LYSANDER. You have her father's love, Demetrius; + Let me have Hermia's; do you marry him. + EGEUS. Scornful Lysander, true, he hath my love; + And what is mine my love shall render him; + And she is mine; and all my right of her + I do estate unto Demetrius. + LYSANDER. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, + As well possess'd; my love is more than his; + My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd, + If not with vantage, as Demetrius'; + And, which is more than all these boasts can be, + I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia. + Why should not I then prosecute my right? + Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head, + Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, + And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, + Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, + Upon this spotted and inconstant man. + THESEUS. I must confess that I have heard so much, + And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; + But, being over-full of self-affairs, + My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come; + And come, Egeus; you shall go with me; + I have some private schooling for you both. + For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself + To fit your fancies to your father's will, + Or else the law of Athens yields you up- + Which by no means we may extenuate- + To death, or to a vow of single life. + Come, my Hippolyta; what cheer, my love? + Demetrius, and Egeus, go along; + I must employ you in some business + Against our nuptial, and confer with you + Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. + EGEUS. With duty and desire we follow you. + Exeunt all but LYSANDER and HERMIA + LYSANDER. How now, my love! Why is your cheek so pale? + How chance the roses there do fade so fast? + HERMIA. Belike for want of rain, which I could well + Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes. + LYSANDER. Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, + Could ever hear by tale or history, + The course of true love never did run smooth; + But either it was different in blood- + HERMIA. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low. + LYSANDER. Or else misgraffed in respect of years- + HERMIA. O spite! too old to be engag'd to young. + LYSANDER. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends- + HERMIA. O hell! to choose love by another's eyes. + LYSANDER. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, + War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it, + Making it momentary as a sound, + Swift as a shadow, short as any dream, + Brief as the lightning in the collied night + That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, + And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!' + The jaws of darkness do devour it up; + So quick bright things come to confusion. + HERMIA. If then true lovers have ever cross'd, + It stands as an edict in destiny. + Then let us teach our trial patience, + Because it is a customary cross, + As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, + Wishes and tears, poor Fancy's followers. + LYSANDER. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Hermia. + I have a widow aunt, a dowager + Of great revenue, and she hath no child- + From Athens is her house remote seven leagues- + And she respects me as her only son. + There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; + And to that place the sharp Athenian law + Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then, + Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night; + And in the wood, a league without the town, + Where I did meet thee once with Helena + To do observance to a morn of May, + There will I stay for thee. + HERMIA. My good Lysander! + I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow, + By his best arrow, with the golden head, + By the simplicity of Venus' doves, + By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, + And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queen, + When the false Troyan under sail was seen, + By all the vows that ever men have broke, + In number more than ever women spoke, + In that same place thou hast appointed me, + To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. + LYSANDER. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena. + + Enter HELENA + + HERMIA. God speed fair Helena! Whither away? + HELENA. Call you me fair? That fair again unsay. + Demetrius loves your fair. O happy fair! + Your eyes are lode-stars and your tongue's sweet air + More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, + When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. + Sickness is catching; O, were favour so, + Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go! + My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, + My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. + Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, + The rest I'd give to be to you translated. + O, teach me how you look, and with what art + You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart! + HERMIA. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. + HELENA. O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! + HERMIA. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. + HELENA. O that my prayers could such affection move! + HERMIA. The more I hate, the more he follows me. + HELENA. The more I love, the more he hateth me. + HERMIA. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. + HELENA. None, but your beauty; would that fault were mine! + HERMIA. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face; + Lysander and myself will fly this place. + Before the time I did Lysander see, + Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me. + O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, + That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell! + LYSANDER. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: + To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold + Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, + Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, + A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal, + Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal. + HERMIA. And in the wood where often you and I + Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie, + Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, + There my Lysander and myself shall meet; + And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, + To seek new friends and stranger companies. + Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us, + And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius! + Keep word, Lysander; we must starve our sight + From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight. + LYSANDER. I will, my Hermia. [Exit HERMIA] Helena, adieu; + As you on him, Demetrius dote on you. Exit + HELENA. How happy some o'er other some can be! + Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. + But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so; + He will not know what all but he do know. + And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, + So I, admiring of his qualities. + Things base and vile, holding no quantity, + Love can transpose to form and dignity. + Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; + And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. + Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste; + Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste; + And therefore is Love said to be a child, + Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. + As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, + So the boy Love is perjur'd everywhere; + For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, + He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine; + And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, + So he dissolv'd, and show'rs of oaths did melt. + I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight; + Then to the wood will he to-morrow night + Pursue her; and for this intelligence + If I have thanks, it is a dear expense. + But herein mean I to enrich my pain, + To have his sight thither and back again. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Athens. QUINCE'S house + +Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING + + QUINCE. Is all our company here? + BOTTOM. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according + to the scrip. + QUINCE. Here is the scroll of every man's name which is thought + fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the Duke + and the Duchess on his wedding-day at night. + BOTTOM. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then + read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point. + QUINCE. Marry, our play is 'The most Lamentable Comedy and most + Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby.' + BOTTOM. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, + good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, + spread yourselves. + QUINCE. Answer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver. + BOTTOM. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. + QUINCE. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. + BOTTOM. What is Pyramus? A lover, or a tyrant? + QUINCE. A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love. + BOTTOM. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I + do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms; I + will condole in some measure. To the rest- yet my chief humour is + for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat + in, to make all split. + + 'The raging rocks + And shivering shocks + Shall break the locks + Of prison gates; + + And Phibbus' car + Shall shine from far, + And make and mar + The foolish Fates.' + + This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players. This is + Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein: a lover is more condoling. + QUINCE. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. + FLUTE. Here, Peter Quince. + QUINCE. Flute, you must take Thisby on you. + FLUTE. What is Thisby? A wand'ring knight? + QUINCE. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. + FLUTE. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard coming. + QUINCE. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may + speak as small as you will. + BOTTOM. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too. + I'll speak in a monstrous little voice: 'Thisne, Thisne!' + [Then speaking small] 'Ah Pyramus, my lover dear! Thy + Thisby dear, and lady dear!' + QUINCE. No, no, you must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby. + BOTTOM. Well, proceed. + QUINCE. Robin Starveling, the tailor. + STARVELING. Here, Peter Quince. + QUINCE. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. + Tom Snout, the tinker. + SNOUT. Here, Peter Quince. + QUINCE. You, Pyramus' father; myself, Thisby's father; Snug, the + joiner, you, the lion's part. And, I hope, here is a play fitted. + SNUG. Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be, give it + me, for I am slow of study. + QUINCE. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. + BOTTOM. Let me play the lion too. I will roar that I will do any + man's heart good to hear me; I will roar that I will make the + Duke say 'Let him roar again, let him roar again.' + QUINCE. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the + Duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were + enough to hang us all. + ALL. That would hang us, every mother's son. + BOTTOM. I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out + of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us; + but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently + as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale. + QUINCE. You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a + sweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's + day; a most lovely gentleman-like man; therefore you must needs + play Pyramus. + BOTTOM. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play + it in? + QUINCE. Why, what you will. + BOTTOM. I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard, your + orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your + French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow. + QUINCE. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then + you will play bare-fac'd. But, masters, here are your parts; and + I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by + to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without + the town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse; for if we meet in + the city, we shall be dogg'd with company, and our devices known. + In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties, such as our + play wants. I pray you, fail me not. + BOTTOM. We will meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely and + courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu. + QUINCE. At the Duke's oak we meet. + BOTTOM. Enough; hold, or cut bow-strings. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +A wood near Athens + +Enter a FAIRY at One door, and PUCK at another + + PUCK. How now, spirit! whither wander you? + FAIRY. Over hill, over dale, + Thorough bush, thorough brier, + Over park, over pale, + Thorough flood, thorough fire, + I do wander every where, + Swifter than the moon's sphere; + And I serve the Fairy Queen, + To dew her orbs upon the green. + The cowslips tall her pensioners be; + In their gold coats spots you see; + Those be rubies, fairy favours, + In those freckles live their savours. + + I must go seek some dewdrops here, + And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. + Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone. + Our Queen and all her elves come here anon. + PUCK. The King doth keep his revels here to-night; + Take heed the Queen come not within his sight; + For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, + Because that she as her attendant hath + A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king. + She never had so sweet a changeling; + And jealous Oberon would have the child + Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild; + But she perforce withholds the loved boy, + Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy. + And now they never meet in grove or green, + By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, + But they do square, that all their elves for fear + Creep into acorn cups and hide them there. + FAIRY. Either I mistake your shape and making quite, + Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite + Call'd Robin Goodfellow. Are not you he + That frights the maidens of the villagery, + Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern, + And bootless make the breathless housewife churn, + And sometime make the drink to bear no barm, + Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? + Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, + You do their work, and they shall have good luck. + Are not you he? + PUCK. Thou speakest aright: + I am that merry wanderer of the night. + I jest to Oberon, and make him smile + When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, + Neighing in likeness of a filly foal; + And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl + In very likeness of a roasted crab, + And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, + And on her withered dewlap pour the ale. + The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, + Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; + Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, + And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough; + And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, + And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear + A merrier hour was never wasted there. + But room, fairy, here comes Oberon. + FAIRY. And here my mistress. Would that he were gone! + + Enter OBERON at one door, with his TRAIN, and TITANIA, + at another, with hers + + OBERON. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. + TITANIA. What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence; + I have forsworn his bed and company. + OBERON. Tarry, rash wanton; am not I thy lord? + TITANIA. Then I must be thy lady; but I know + When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, + And in the shape of Corin sat all day, + Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love + To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, + Come from the farthest steep of India, + But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, + Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love, + To Theseus must be wedded, and you come + To give their bed joy and prosperity? + OBERON. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania, + Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, + Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? + Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night + From Perigouna, whom he ravished? + And make him with fair Aegles break his faith, + With Ariadne and Antiopa? + TITANIA. These are the forgeries of jealousy; + And never, since the middle summer's spring, + Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, + By paved fountain, or by rushy brook, + Or in the beached margent of the sea, + To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, + But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. + Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, + As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea + Contagious fogs; which, falling in the land, + Hath every pelting river made so proud + That they have overborne their continents. + The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, + The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn + Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard; + The fold stands empty in the drowned field, + And crows are fatted with the murrion flock; + The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud, + And the quaint mazes in the wanton green, + For lack of tread, are undistinguishable. + The human mortals want their winter here; + No night is now with hymn or carol blest; + Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, + Pale in her anger, washes all the air, + That rheumatic diseases do abound. + And thorough this distemperature we see + The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts + Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose; + And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown + An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds + Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer, + The childing autumn, angry winter, change + Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world, + By their increase, now knows not which is which. + And this same progeny of evils comes + From our debate, from our dissension; + We are their parents and original. + OBERON. Do you amend it, then; it lies in you. + Why should Titania cross her Oberon? + I do but beg a little changeling boy + To be my henchman. + TITANIA. Set your heart at rest; + The fairy land buys not the child of me. + His mother was a vot'ress of my order; + And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, + Full often hath she gossip'd by my side; + And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, + Marking th' embarked traders on the flood; + When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive, + And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; + Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait + Following- her womb then rich with my young squire- + Would imitate, and sail upon the land, + To fetch me trifles, and return again, + As from a voyage, rich with merchandise. + But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; + And for her sake do I rear up her boy; + And for her sake I will not part with him. + OBERON. How long within this wood intend you stay? + TITANIA. Perchance till after Theseus' wedding-day. + If you will patiently dance in our round, + And see our moonlight revels, go with us; + If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. + OBERON. Give me that boy and I will go with thee. + TITANIA. Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away. + We shall chide downright if I longer stay. + Exit TITANIA with her train + OBERON. Well, go thy way; thou shalt not from this grove + Till I torment thee for this injury. + My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememb'rest + Since once I sat upon a promontory, + And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back + Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath + That the rude sea grew civil at her song, + And certain stars shot madly from their spheres + To hear the sea-maid's music. + PUCK. I remember. + OBERON. That very time I saw, but thou couldst not, + Flying between the cold moon and the earth + Cupid, all arm'd; a certain aim he took + At a fair vestal, throned by the west, + And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, + As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts; + But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft + Quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon; + And the imperial vot'ress passed on, + In maiden meditation, fancy-free. + Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell. + It fell upon a little western flower, + Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, + And maidens call it Love-in-idleness. + Fetch me that flow'r, the herb I showed thee once. + The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid + Will make or man or woman madly dote + Upon the next live creature that it sees. + Fetch me this herb, and be thou here again + Ere the leviathan can swim a league. + PUCK. I'll put a girdle round about the earth + In forty minutes. Exit PUCK + OBERON. Having once this juice, + I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, + And drop the liquor of it in her eyes; + The next thing then she waking looks upon, + Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, + On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, + She shall pursue it with the soul of love. + And ere I take this charm from off her sight, + As I can take it with another herb, + I'll make her render up her page to me. + But who comes here? I am invisible; + And I will overhear their conference. + + Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA following him + + DEMETRIUS. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not. + Where is Lysander and fair Hermia? + The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. + Thou told'st me they were stol'n unto this wood, + And here am I, and wood within this wood, + Because I cannot meet my Hermia. + Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more. + HELENA. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; + But yet you draw not iron, for my heart + Is true as steel. Leave you your power to draw, + And I shall have no power to follow you. + DEMETRIUS. Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? + Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth + Tell you I do not nor I cannot love you? + HELENA. And even for that do I love you the more. + I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, + The more you beat me, I will fawn on you. + Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, + Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave, + Unworthy as I am, to follow you. + What worser place can I beg in your love, + And yet a place of high respect with me, + Than to be used as you use your dog? + DEMETRIUS. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit; + For I am sick when I do look on thee. + HELENA. And I am sick when I look not on you. + DEMETRIUS. You do impeach your modesty too much + To leave the city and commit yourself + Into the hands of one that loves you not; + To trust the opportunity of night, + And the ill counsel of a desert place, + With the rich worth of your virginity. + HELENA. Your virtue is my privilege for that: + It is not night when I do see your face, + Therefore I think I am not in the night; + Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, + For you, in my respect, are all the world. + Then how can it be said I am alone + When all the world is here to look on me? + DEMETRIUS. I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes, + And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. + HELENA. The wildest hath not such a heart as you. + Run when you will; the story shall be chang'd: + Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; + The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind + Makes speed to catch the tiger- bootless speed, + When cowardice pursues and valour flies. + DEMETRIUS. I will not stay thy questions; let me go; + Or, if thou follow me, do not believe + But I shall do thee mischief in the wood. + HELENA. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, + You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! + Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex. + We cannot fight for love as men may do; + We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo. + Exit DEMETRIUS + I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell, + To die upon the hand I love so well. Exit HELENA + OBERON. Fare thee well, nymph; ere he do leave this grove, + Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love. + + Re-enter PUCK + + Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer. + PUCK. Ay, there it is. + OBERON. I pray thee give it me. + I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, + Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, + Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, + With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine; + There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, + Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight; + And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin, + Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in; + And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, + And make her full of hateful fantasies. + Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove: + A sweet Athenian lady is in love + With a disdainful youth; anoint his eyes; + But do it when the next thing he espies + May be the lady. Thou shalt know the man + By the Athenian garments he hath on. + Effect it with some care, that he may prove + More fond on her than she upon her love. + And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. + PUCK. Fear not, my lord; your servant shall do so. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Another part of the wood + +Enter TITANIA, with her train + + TITANIA. Come now, a roundel and a fairy song; + Then, for the third part of a minute, hence: + Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds; + Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings, + To make my small elves coats; and some keep back + The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders + At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep; + Then to your offices, and let me rest. + + The FAIRIES Sing + + FIRST FAIRY. You spotted snakes with double tongue, + Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; + Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, + Come not near our fairy Queen. + CHORUS. Philomel with melody + Sing in our sweet lullaby. + Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby. + Never harm + Nor spell nor charm + Come our lovely lady nigh. + So good night, with lullaby. + SECOND FAIRY. Weaving spiders, come not here; + Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence. + Beetles black, approach not near; + Worm nor snail do no offence. + CHORUS. Philomel with melody, etc. [TITANIA Sleeps] + FIRST FAIRY. Hence away; now all is well. + One aloof stand sentinel. Exeunt FAIRIES + + Enter OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA'S eyelids + + OBERON. What thou seest when thou dost wake, + Do it for thy true-love take; + Love and languish for his sake. + Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, + Pard, or boar with bristled hair, + In thy eye that shall appear + When thou wak'st, it is thy dear. + Wake when some vile thing is near. Exit + + Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA + + LYSANDER. Fair love, you faint with wand'ring in the wood; + And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way; + We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, + And tarry for the comfort of the day. + HERMIA. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed, + For I upon this bank will rest my head. + LYSANDER. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; + One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth. + HERMIA. Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear, + Lie further off yet; do not lie so near. + LYSANDER. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence! + Love takes the meaning in love's conference. + I mean that my heart unto yours is knit, + So that but one heart we can make of it; + Two bosoms interchained with an oath, + So then two bosoms and a single troth. + Then by your side no bed-room me deny, + For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. + HERMIA. Lysander riddles very prettily. + Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, + If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied! + But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy + Lie further off, in human modesty; + Such separation as may well be said + Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid, + So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend. + Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end! + LYSANDER. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer say I; + And then end life when I end loyalty! + Here is my bed; sleep give thee all his rest! + HERMIA. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd! + [They sleep] + + Enter PUCK + + PUCK. Through the forest have I gone, + But Athenian found I none + On whose eyes I might approve + This flower's force in stirring love. + Night and silence- Who is here? + Weeds of Athens he doth wear: + This is he, my master said, + Despised the Athenian maid; + And here the maiden, sleeping sound, + On the dank and dirty ground. + Pretty soul! she durst not lie + Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy. + Churl, upon thy eyes I throw + All the power this charm doth owe: + When thou wak'st let love forbid + Sleep his seat on thy eyelid. + So awake when I am gone; + For I must now to Oberon. Exit + + Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running + + HELENA. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. + DEMETRIUS. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus. + HELENA. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? Do not so. + DEMETRIUS. Stay on thy peril; I alone will go. Exit + HELENA. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase! + The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. + Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies, + For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. + How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears; + If so, my eyes are oft'ner wash'd than hers. + No, no, I am as ugly as a bear, + For beasts that meet me run away for fear; + Therefore no marvel though Demetrius + Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus. + What wicked and dissembling glass of mine + Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne? + But who is here? Lysander! on the ground! + Dead, or asleep? I see no blood, no wound. + Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake. + LYSANDER. [Waking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. + Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, + That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. + Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word + Is that vile name to perish on my sword! + HELENA. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so. + What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? + Yet Hermia still loves you; then be content. + LYSANDER. Content with Hermia! No: I do repent + The tedious minutes I with her have spent. + Not Hermia but Helena I love: + Who will not change a raven for a dove? + The will of man is by his reason sway'd, + And reason says you are the worthier maid. + Things growing are not ripe until their season; + So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason; + And touching now the point of human skill, + Reason becomes the marshal to my will, + And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook + Love's stories, written in Love's richest book. + HELENA. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? + When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? + Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, + That I did never, no, nor never can, + Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, + But you must flout my insufficiency? + Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do, + In such disdainful manner me to woo. + But fare you well; perforce I must confess + I thought you lord of more true gentleness. + O, that a lady of one man refus'd + Should of another therefore be abus'd! Exit + LYSANDER. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there; + And never mayst thou come Lysander near! + For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things + The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, + Or as the heresies that men do leave + Are hated most of those they did deceive, + So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, + Of all be hated, but the most of me! + And, all my powers, address your love and might + To honour Helen, and to be her knight! Exit + HERMIA. [Starting] Help me, Lysander, help me; do thy best + To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast. + Ay me, for pity! What a dream was here! + Lysander, look how I do quake with fear. + Methought a serpent eat my heart away, + And you sat smiling at his cruel prey. + Lysander! What, remov'd? Lysander! lord! + What, out of hearing gone? No sound, no word? + Alack, where are you? Speak, an if you hear; + Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear. + No? Then I well perceive you are not nigh. + Either death or you I'll find immediately. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +The wood. TITANIA lying asleep + +Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING + + BOTTOM. Are we all met? + QUINCE. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our + rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn + brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will + do it before the Duke. + BOTTOM. Peter Quince! + QUINCE. What sayest thou, bully Bottom? + BOTTOM. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that + will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill + himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that? + SNOUT. By'r lakin, a parlous fear. + STARVELING. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is + done. + BOTTOM. Not a whit; I have a device to make all well. Write me a + prologue; and let the prologue seem to say we will do no harm + with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed; and for + the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not + Pyramus but Bottom the weaver. This will put them out of fear. + QUINCE. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written + in eight and six. + BOTTOM. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight. + SNOUT. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? + STARVELING. I fear it, I promise you. + BOTTOM. Masters, you ought to consider with yourself to bring in- + God shield us!- a lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for + there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living; and + we ought to look to't. + SNOUT. Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion. + BOTTOM. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen + through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through, + saying thus, or to the same defect: 'Ladies,' or 'Fair ladies, I + would wish you' or 'I would request you' or 'I would entreat you + not to fear, not to tremble. My life for yours! If you think I + come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life. No, I am no such + thing; I am a man as other men are.' And there, indeed, let him + name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner. + QUINCE. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things- that + is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus + and Thisby meet by moonlight. + SNOUT. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play? + BOTTOM. A calendar, a calendar! Look in the almanack; find out + moonshine, find out moonshine. + QUINCE. Yes, it doth shine that night. + BOTTOM. Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber + window, where we play, open; and the moon may shine in at the + casement. + QUINCE. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a + lantern, and say he comes to disfigure or to present the person + of Moonshine. Then there is another thing: we must have a wall in + the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did + talk through the chink of a wall. + SNOUT. You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom? + BOTTOM. Some man or other must present Wall; and let him have some + plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify + wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny + shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper. + QUINCE. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every + mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin; when + you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake; and so every + one according to his cue. + + Enter PUCK behind + + PUCK. What hempen homespuns have we swagg'ring here, + So near the cradle of the Fairy Queen? + What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor; + An actor too perhaps, if I see cause. + QUINCE. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth. + BOTTOM. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet- + QUINCE. 'Odious'- odorous! + BOTTOM. -odours savours sweet; + So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. + But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here awhile, + And by and by I will to thee appear. Exit + PUCK. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here! Exit + FLUTE. Must I speak now? + QUINCE. Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to + see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. + FLUTE. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, + Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, + Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew, + As true as truest horse, that would never tire, + I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. + QUINCE. 'Ninus' tomb,' man! Why, you must not speak that yet; that + you answer to Pyramus. You speak all your part at once, cues, and + all. Pyramus enter: your cue is past; it is 'never tire.' + FLUTE. O- As true as truest horse, that y et would never tire. + + Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head + + BOTTOM. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine. + QUINCE. O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted. Pray, masters! fly, + masters! Help! + Exeunt all but BOTTOM and PUCK + PUCK. I'll follow you; I'll lead you about a round, + Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier; + Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, + A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; + And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, + Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. +Exit + BOTTOM. Why do they run away? This is a knavery of them to make me + afeard. + + Re-enter SNOUT + + SNOUT. O Bottom, thou art chang'd! What do I see on thee? + BOTTOM. What do you see? You see an ass-head of your own, do you? + Exit SNOUT + + Re-enter QUINCE + + QUINCE. Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee! Thou art translated. + Exit + BOTTOM. I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to + fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do + what they can; I will walk up and down here, and will sing, that + they shall hear I am not afraid. [Sings] + + The ousel cock, so black of hue, + With orange-tawny bill, + The throstle with his note so true, + The wren with little quill. + + TITANIA. What angel wakes me from my flow'ry bed? + BOTTOM. [Sings] + The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, + The plain-song cuckoo grey, + Whose note full many a man doth mark, + And dares not answer nay- + for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? + Who would give a bird the he, though he cry 'cuckoo' never so? + TITANIA. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again. + Mine ear is much enamoured of thy note; + So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; + And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, + On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee. + BOTTOM. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that. + And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company + together now-a-days. The more the pity that some honest + neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon + occasion. + TITANIA. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. + BOTTOM. Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this + wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. + TITANIA. Out of this wood do not desire to go; + Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no. + I am a spirit of no common rate; + The summer still doth tend upon my state; + And I do love thee; therefore, go with me. + I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee; + And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, + And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep; + And I will purge thy mortal grossness so + That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. + Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed! + + Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED + + PEASEBLOSSOM. Ready. + COBWEB. And I. + MOTH. And I. + MUSTARDSEED. And I. + ALL. Where shall we go? + TITANIA. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; + Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; + Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, + With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; + The honey bags steal from the humble-bees, + And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs, + And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, + To have my love to bed and to arise; + And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, + To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes. + Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. + PEASEBLOSSOM. Hail, mortal! + COBWEB. Hail! + MOTH. Hail! + MUSTARDSEED. Hail! + BOTTOM. I cry your worships mercy, heartily; I beseech your + worship's name. + COBWEB. Cobweb. + BOTTOM. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master + Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your + name, honest gentleman? + PEASEBLOSSOM. Peaseblossom. + BOTTOM. I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and + to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall + desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, + sir? + MUSTARDSEED. Mustardseed. + BOTTOM. Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well. That + same cowardly giant-like ox-beef hath devour'd many a gentleman + of your house. I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water + ere now. I desire you of more acquaintance, good Master + Mustardseed. + TITANIA. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower. + The moon, methinks, looks with a wat'ry eye; + And when she weeps, weeps every little flower; + Lamenting some enforced chastity. + Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Another part of the wood + +Enter OBERON + + OBERON. I wonder if Titania be awak'd; + Then, what it was that next came in her eye, + Which she must dote on in extremity. + + Enter PUCK + + Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit! + What night-rule now about this haunted grove? + PUCK. My mistress with a monster is in love. + Near to her close and consecrated bower, + While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, + A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, + That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, + Were met together to rehearse a play + Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day. + The shallowest thickskin of that barren sort, + Who Pyramus presented, in their sport + Forsook his scene and ent'red in a brake; + When I did him at this advantage take, + An ass's nole I fixed on his head. + Anon his Thisby must be answered, + And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, + As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, + Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, + Rising and cawing at the gun's report, + Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, + So at his sight away his fellows fly; + And at our stamp here, o'er and o'er one falls; + He murder cries, and help from Athens calls. + Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, + Made senseless things begin to do them wrong, + For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; + Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch. + I led them on in this distracted fear, + And left sweet Pyramus translated there; + When in that moment, so it came to pass, + Titania wak'd, and straightway lov'd an ass. + OBERON. This falls out better than I could devise. + But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes + With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? + PUCK. I took him sleeping- that is finish'd too- + And the Athenian woman by his side; + That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey'd. + + Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA + + OBERON. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. + PUCK. This is the woman, but not this the man. + DEMETRIUS. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? + Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. + HERMIA. Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse, + For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. + If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, + Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, + And kill me too. + The sun was not so true unto the day + As he to me. Would he have stolen away + From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon + This whole earth may be bor'd, and that the moon + May through the centre creep and so displease + Her brother's noontide with th' Antipodes. + It cannot be but thou hast murd'red him; + So should a murderer look- so dead, so grim. + DEMETRIUS. So should the murdered look; and so should I, + Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty; + Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, + As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. + HERMIA. What's this to my Lysander? Where is he? + Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? + DEMETRIUS. I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. + HERMIA. Out, dog! out, cur! Thou driv'st me past the bounds + Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then? + Henceforth be never numb'red among men! + O, once tell true; tell true, even for my sake! + Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake, + And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch! + Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? + An adder did it; for with doubler tongue + Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. + DEMETRIUS. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood: + I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; + Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. + HERMIA. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. + DEMETRIUS. An if I could, what should I get therefore? + HERMIA. A privilege never to see me more. + And from thy hated presence part I so; + See me no more whether he be dead or no. Exit + DEMETRIUS. There is no following her in this fierce vein; + Here, therefore, for a while I will remain. + So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow + For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe; + Which now in some slight measure it will pay, + If for his tender here I make some stay. [Lies down] + OBERON. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite, + And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight. + Of thy misprision must perforce ensue + Some true love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true. + PUCK. Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth, + A million fail, confounding oath on oath. + OBERON. About the wood go swifter than the wind, + And Helena of Athens look thou find; + All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, + With sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear. + By some illusion see thou bring her here; + I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. + PUCK. I go, I go; look how I go, + Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. Exit + OBERON. Flower of this purple dye, + Hit with Cupid's archery, + Sink in apple of his eye. + When his love he doth espy, + Let her shine as gloriously + As the Venus of the sky. + When thou wak'st, if she be by, + Beg of her for remedy. + + Re-enter PUCK + + PUCK. Captain of our fairy band, + Helena is here at hand, + And the youth mistook by me + Pleading for a lover's fee; + Shall we their fond pageant see? + Lord, what fools these mortals be! + OBERON. Stand aside. The noise they make + Will cause Demetrius to awake. + PUCK. Then will two at once woo one. + That must needs be sport alone; + And those things do best please me + That befall prepost'rously. + + Enter LYSANDER and HELENA + + LYSANDER. Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? + Scorn and derision never come in tears. + Look when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, + In their nativity all truth appears. + How can these things in me seem scorn to you, + Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true? + HELENA. You do advance your cunning more and more. + When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray! + These vows are Hermia's. Will you give her o'er? + Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: + Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, + Will even weigh; and both as light as tales. + LYSANDER. I hod no judgment when to her I swore. + HELENA. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. + LYSANDER. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. + DEMETRIUS. [Awaking] O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! + To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? + Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show + Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! + That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, + Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow + When thou hold'st up thy hand. O, let me kiss + This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! + HELENA. O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent + To set against me for your merriment. + If you were civil and knew courtesy, + You would not do me thus much injury. + Can you not hate me, as I know you do, + But you must join in souls to mock me too? + If you were men, as men you are in show, + You would not use a gentle lady so: + To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, + When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. + You both are rivals, and love Hermia; + And now both rivals, to mock Helena. + A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, + To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes + With your derision! None of noble sort + Would so offend a virgin, and extort + A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. + LYSANDER. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; + For you love Hermia. This you know I know; + And here, with all good will, with all my heart, + In Hermia's love I yield you up my part; + And yours of Helena to me bequeath, + Whom I do love and will do till my death. + HELENA. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. + DEMETRIUS. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none. + If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone. + My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd, + And now to Helen is it home return'd, + There to remain. + LYSANDER. Helen, it is not so. + DEMETRIUS. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, + Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. + Look where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear. + + Enter HERMIA + + HERMIA. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, + The ear more quick of apprehension makes; + Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, + It pays the hearing double recompense. + Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; + Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound. + But why unkindly didst thou leave me so? + LYSANDER. Why should he stay whom love doth press to go? + HERMIA. What love could press Lysander from my side? + LYSANDER. Lysander's love, that would not let him bide- + Fair Helena, who more engilds the night + Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light. + Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know + The hate I bare thee made me leave thee so? + HERMIA. You speak not as you think; it cannot be. + HELENA. Lo, she is one of this confederacy! + Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three + To fashion this false sport in spite of me. + Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid! + Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd, + To bait me with this foul derision? + Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd, + The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, + When we have chid the hasty-footed time + For parting us- O, is all forgot? + All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? + We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, + Have with our needles created both one flower, + Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, + Both warbling of one song, both in one key; + As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, + Had been incorporate. So we grew together, + Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, + But yet an union in partition, + Two lovely berries moulded on one stern; + So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; + Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, + Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. + And will you rent our ancient love asunder, + To join with men in scorning your poor friend? + It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly; + Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, + Though I alone do feel the injury. + HERMIA. I am amazed at your passionate words; + I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me. + HELENA. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, + To follow me and praise my eyes and face? + And made your other love, Demetrius, + Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, + To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare, + Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this + To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander + Deny your love, so rich within his soul, + And tender me, forsooth, affection, + But by your setting on, by your consent? + What though I be not so in grace as you, + So hung upon with love, so fortunate, + But miserable most, to love unlov'd? + This you should pity rather than despise. + HERMIA. I understand not what you mean by this. + HELENA. Ay, do- persever, counterfeit sad looks, + Make mouths upon me when I turn my back, + Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up; + This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. + If you have any pity, grace, or manners, + You would not make me such an argument. + But fare ye well; 'tis partly my own fault, + Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy. + LYSANDER. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse; + My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena! + HELENA. O excellent! + HERMIA. Sweet, do not scorn her so. + DEMETRIUS. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. + LYSANDER. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat; + Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers + Helen, I love thee, by my life I do; + I swear by that which I will lose for thee + To prove him false that says I love thee not. + DEMETRIUS. I say I love thee more than he can do. + LYSANDER. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. + DEMETRIUS. Quick, come. + HERMIA. Lysander, whereto tends all this? + LYSANDER. Away, you Ethiope! + DEMETRIUS. No, no, he will + Seem to break loose- take on as you would follow, + But yet come not. You are a tame man; go! + LYSANDER. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr; vile thing, let loose, + Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent. + HERMIA. Why are you grown so rude? What change is this, + Sweet love? + LYSANDER. Thy love! Out, tawny Tartar, out! + Out, loathed med'cine! O hated potion, hence! + HERMIA. Do you not jest? + HELENA. Yes, sooth; and so do you. + LYSANDER. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. + DEMETRIUS. I would I had your bond; for I perceive + A weak bond holds you; I'll not trust your word. + LYSANDER. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? + Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. + HERMIA. What! Can you do me greater harm than hate? + Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love? + Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander? + I am as fair now as I was erewhile. + Since night you lov'd me; yet since night you left me. + Why then, you left me- O, the gods forbid!- + In earnest, shall I say? + LYSANDER. Ay, by my life! + And never did desire to see thee more. + Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; + Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest + That I do hate thee and love Helena. + HERMIA. O me! you juggler! you cankerblossom! + You thief of love! What! Have you come by night, + And stol'n my love's heart from him? + HELENA. Fine, i' faith! + Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, + No touch of bashfulness? What! Will you tear + Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? + Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet you! + HERMIA. 'Puppet!' why so? Ay, that way goes the game. + Now I perceive that she hath made compare + Between our statures; she hath urg'd her height; + And with her personage, her tall personage, + Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him. + And are you grown so high in his esteem + Because I am so dwarfish and so low? + How low am I, thou painted maypole? Speak. + How low am I? I am not yet so low + But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. + HELENA. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, + Let her not hurt me. I was never curst; + I have no gift at all in shrewishness; + I am a right maid for my cowardice; + Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think, + Because she is something lower than myself, + That I can match her. + HERMIA. 'Lower' hark, again. + HELENA. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. + I evermore did love you, Hermia, + Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you; + Save that, in love unto Demetrius, + I told him of your stealth unto this wood. + He followed you; for love I followed him; + But he hath chid me hence, and threat'ned me + To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too; + And now, so you will let me quiet go, + To Athens will I bear my folly back, + And follow you no further. Let me go. + You see how simple and how fond I am. + HERMIA. Why, get you gone! Who is't that hinders you? + HELENA. A foolish heart that I leave here behind. + HERMIA. What! with Lysander? + HELENA. With Demetrius. + LYSANDER. Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena. + DEMETRIUS. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part. + HELENA. O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd; + She was a vixen when she went to school; + And, though she be but little, she is fierce. + HERMIA. 'Little' again! Nothing but 'low' and 'little'! + Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? + Let me come to her. + LYSANDER. Get you gone, you dwarf; + You minimus, of hind'ring knot-grass made; + You bead, you acorn. + DEMETRIUS. You are too officious + In her behalf that scorns your services. + Let her alone; speak not of Helena; + Take not her part; for if thou dost intend + Never so little show of love to her, + Thou shalt aby it. + LYSANDER. Now she holds me not. + Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right, + Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. + DEMETRIUS. Follow! Nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl. + Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS + HERMIA. You, mistress, all this coil is long of you. + Nay, go not back. + HELENA. I will not trust you, I; + Nor longer stay in your curst company. + Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray; + My legs are longer though, to run away. Exit + HERMIA. I am amaz'd, and know not what to say. Exit + OBERON. This is thy negligence. Still thou mistak'st, + Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully. + PUCK. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. + Did not you tell me I should know the man + By the Athenian garments he had on? + And so far blameless proves my enterprise + That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes; + And so far am I glad it so did sort, + As this their jangling I esteem a sport. + OBERON. Thou seest these lovers seek a place to fight. + Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night; + The starry welkin cover thou anon + With drooping fog as black as Acheron, + And lead these testy rivals so astray + As one come not within another's way. + Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, + Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong; + And sometime rail thou like Demetrius; + And from each other look thou lead them thus, + Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep + With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep. + Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; + Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, + To take from thence all error with his might + And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. + When they next wake, all this derision + Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision; + And back to Athens shall the lovers wend + With league whose date till death shall never end. + Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, + I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy; + And then I will her charmed eye release + From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. + PUCK. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste, + For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast; + And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger, + At whose approach ghosts, wand'ring here and there, + Troop home to churchyards. Damned spirits all + That in cross-ways and floods have burial, + Already to their wormy beds are gone, + For fear lest day should look their shames upon; + They wilfully themselves exil'd from light, + And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night. + OBERON. But we are spirits of another sort: + I with the Morning's love have oft made sport; + And, like a forester, the groves may tread + Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red, + Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, + Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams. + But, notwithstanding, haste, make no delay; + We may effect this business yet ere day. Exit OBERON + PUCK. Up and down, up and down, + I will lead them up and down. + I am fear'd in field and town. + Goblin, lead them up and down. + Here comes one. + + Enter LYSANDER + + LYSANDER. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speak thou now. + PUCK. Here, villain, drawn and ready. Where art thou? + LYSANDER. I will be with thee straight. + PUCK. Follow me, then, + To plainer ground. Exit LYSANDER as following the voice + + Enter DEMETRIUS + + DEMETRIUS. Lysander, speak again. + Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? + Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head? + PUCK. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, + Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, + And wilt not come? Come, recreant, come, thou child; + I'll whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd + That draws a sword on thee. + DEMETRIUS. Yea, art thou there? + PUCK. Follow my voice; we'll try no manhood here. Exeunt + + Re-enter LYSANDER + + LYSANDER. He goes before me, and still dares me on; + When I come where he calls, then he is gone. + The villain is much lighter heel'd than I. + I followed fast, but faster he did fly, + That fallen am I in dark uneven way, + And here will rest me. [Lies down] Come, thou gentle day. + For if but once thou show me thy grey light, + I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [Sleeps] + + Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS + + PUCK. Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why com'st thou not? + DEMETRIUS. Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well I wot + Thou run'st before me, shifting every place, + And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face. + Where art thou now? + PUCK. Come hither; I am here. + DEMETRIUS. Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear, + If ever I thy face by daylight see; + Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me + To measure out my length on this cold bed. + By day's approach look to be visited. + [Lies down and sleeps] + + Enter HELENA + + HELENA. O weary night, O long and tedious night, + Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east, + That I may back to Athens by daylight, + From these that my poor company detest. + And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, + Steal me awhile from mine own company. [Sleeps] + PUCK. Yet but three? Come one more; + Two of both kinds makes up four. + Here she comes, curst and sad. + Cupid is a knavish lad, + Thus to make poor females mad. + + Enter HERMIA + + HERMIA. Never so weary, never so in woe, + Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers, + I can no further crawl, no further go; + My legs can keep no pace with my desires. + Here will I rest me till the break of day. + Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! + [Lies down and sleeps] + PUCK. On the ground + Sleep sound; + I'll apply + To your eye, + Gentle lover, remedy. + [Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER'S eyes] + When thou wak'st, + Thou tak'st + True delight + In the sight + Of thy former lady's eye; + And the country proverb known, + That every man should take his own, + In your waking shall be shown: + Jack shall have Jill; + Nought shall go ill; + The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. + Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +The wood. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA, lying asleep + +Enter TITANIA and Bottom; PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, MUSTARDSEED, +and other FAIRIES attending; + OBERON behind, unseen + + TITANIA. Come, sit thee down upon this flow'ry bed, + While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, + And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, + And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. + BOTTOM. Where's Peaseblossom? + PEASEBLOSSOM. Ready. + BOTTOM. Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. + Where's Mounsieur Cobweb? + COBWEB. Ready. + BOTTOM. Mounsieur Cobweb; good mounsieur, get you your weapons in + your hand and kill me a red-hipp'd humble-bee on the top of a + thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret + yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, + have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you + overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where's Mounsieur + Mustardseed? + MUSTARDSEED. Ready. + BOTTOM. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave + your curtsy, good mounsieur. + MUSTARDSEED. What's your will? + BOTTOM. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to + scratch. I must to the barber's, mounsieur; for methinks I am + marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if + my hair do but tickle me I must scratch. + TITANIA. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love? + BOTTOM. I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have the tongs + and the bones. + TITANIA. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. + BOTTOM. Truly, a peck of provender; I could munch your good dry + oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good + hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. + TITANIA. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek + The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. + BOTTOM. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I + pray you, let none of your people stir me; I have an exposition + of sleep come upon me. + TITANIA. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. + Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. Exeunt FAIRIES + So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle + Gently entwist; the female ivy so + Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. + O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! [They sleep] + + Enter PUCK + + OBERON. [Advancing] Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this sweet + sight? + Her dotage now I do begin to pity; + For, meeting her of late behind the wood, + Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool, + I did upbraid her and fall out with her. + For she his hairy temples then had rounded + With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; + And that same dew which sometime on the buds + Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls + Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes, + Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. + When I had at my pleasure taunted her, + And she in mild terms begg'd my patience, + I then did ask of her her changeling child; + Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent + To bear him to my bower in fairy land. + And now I have the boy, I will undo + This hateful imperfection of her eyes. + And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp + From off the head of this Athenian swain, + That he awaking when the other do + May all to Athens back again repair, + And think no more of this night's accidents + But as the fierce vexation of a dream. + But first I will release the Fairy Queen. + [Touching her eyes] + Be as thou wast wont to be; + See as thou was wont to see. + Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower + Hath such force and blessed power. + Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen. + TITANIA. My Oberon! What visions have I seen! + Methought I was enamour'd of an ass. + OBERON. There lies your love. + TITANIA. How came these things to pass? + O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now! + OBERON. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head. + Titania, music call; and strike more dead + Than common sleep of all these five the sense. + TITANIA. Music, ho, music, such as charmeth sleep! + PUCK. Now when thou wak'st with thine own fool's eyes peep. + OBERON. Sound, music. Come, my Queen, take hands with me, + [Music] + And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. + Now thou and I are new in amity, + And will to-morrow midnight solemnly + Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly, + And bless it to all fair prosperity. + There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be + Wedded, with Theseus, an in jollity. + PUCK. Fairy King, attend and mark; + I do hear the morning lark. + OBERON. Then, my Queen, in silence sad, + Trip we after night's shade. + We the globe can compass soon, + Swifter than the wand'ring moon. + TITANIA. Come, my lord; and in our flight, + Tell me how it came this night + That I sleeping here was found + With these mortals on the ground. Exeunt + + To the winding of horns, enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, + EGEUS, and train + + THESEUS. Go, one of you, find out the forester; + For now our observation is perform'd, + And since we have the vaward of the day, + My love shall hear the music of my hounds. + Uncouple in the western valley; let them go. + Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. Exit an ATTENDANT + We will, fair Queen, up to the mountain's top, + And mark the musical confusion + Of hounds and echo in conjunction. + HIPPOLYTA. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once + When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear + With hounds of Sparta; never did I hear + Such gallant chiding, for, besides the groves, + The skies, the fountains, every region near + Seem'd all one mutual cry. I never heard + So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. + THESEUS. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, + So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung + With ears that sweep away the morning dew; + Crook-knee'd and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls; + Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, + Each under each. A cry more tuneable + Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, + In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly. + Judge when you hear. But, soft, what nymphs are these? + EGEUS. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep, + And this Lysander, this Demetrius is, + This Helena, old Nedar's Helena. + I wonder of their being here together. + THESEUS. No doubt they rose up early to observe + The rite of May; and, hearing our intent, + Came here in grace of our solemnity. + But speak, Egeus; is not this the day + That Hermia should give answer of her choice? + EGEUS. It is, my lord. + THESEUS. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns. + [Horns and shout within. The sleepers + awake and kneel to THESEUS] + Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past; + Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? + LYSANDER. Pardon, my lord. + THESEUS. I pray you all, stand up. + I know you two are rival enemies; + How comes this gentle concord in the world + That hatred is so far from jealousy + To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity? + LYSANDER. My lord, I shall reply amazedly, + Half sleep, half waking; but as yet, I swear, + I cannot truly say how I came here, + But, as I think- for truly would I speak, + And now I do bethink me, so it is- + I came with Hermia hither. Our intent + Was to be gone from Athens, where we might, + Without the peril of the Athenian law- + EGEUS. Enough, enough, my Lord; you have enough; + I beg the law, the law upon his head. + They would have stol'n away, they would, Demetrius, + Thereby to have defeated you and me: + You of your wife, and me of my consent, + Of my consent that she should be your wife. + DEMETRIUS. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, + Of this their purpose hither to this wood; + And I in fury hither followed them, + Fair Helena in fancy following me. + But, my good lord, I wot not by what power- + But by some power it is- my love to Hermia, + Melted as the snow, seems to me now + As the remembrance of an idle gaud + Which in my childhood I did dote upon; + And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, + The object and the pleasure of mine eye, + Is only Helena. To her, my lord, + Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia. + But, like a sickness, did I loathe this food; + But, as in health, come to my natural taste, + Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, + And will for evermore be true to it. + THESEUS. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met; + Of this discourse we more will hear anon. + Egeus, I will overbear your will; + For in the temple, by and by, with us + These couples shall eternally be knit. + And, for the morning now is something worn, + Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside. + Away with us to Athens, three and three; + We'll hold a feast in great solemnity. + Come, Hippolyta. + Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train + DEMETRIUS. These things seem small and undistinguishable, + Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. + HERMIA. Methinks I see these things with parted eye, + When every thing seems double. + HELENA. So methinks; + And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, + Mine own, and not mine own. + DEMETRIUS. Are you sure + That we are awake? It seems to me + That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think + The Duke was here, and bid us follow him? + HERMIA. Yea, and my father. + HELENA. And Hippolyta. + LYSANDER. And he did bid us follow to the temple. + DEMETRIUS. Why, then, we are awake; let's follow him; + And by the way let us recount our dreams. Exeunt + BOTTOM. [Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My + next is 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the + bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, + stol'n hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. + I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was. + Man is but an ass if he go about to expound this dream. Methought + I was- there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and + methought I had, but man is but a patch'd fool, if he will offer + to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the + ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his + tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I + will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream. It shall + be call'd 'Bottom's Dream,' because it hath no bottom; and I will + sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. + Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at + her death. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Athens. QUINCE'S house + +Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING + + QUINCE. Have you sent to Bottom's house? Is he come home yet? + STARVELING. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is transported. + FLUTE. If he come not, then the play is marr'd; it goes not + forward, doth it? + QUINCE. It is not possible. You have not a man in all Athens able + to discharge Pyramus but he. + FLUTE. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in + Athens. + QUINCE. Yea, and the best person too; and he is a very paramour for + a sweet voice. + FLUTE. You must say 'paragon.' A paramour is- God bless us!- A + thing of naught. + + Enter SNUG + + SNUG. Masters, the Duke is coming from the temple; and there is two + or three lords and ladies more married. If our sport had gone + forward, we had all been made men. + FLUTE. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a day + during his life; he could not have scaped sixpence a day. An the + Duke had not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll + be hanged. He would have deserved it: sixpence a day in Pyramus, + or nothing. + + Enter BOTTOM + + BOTTOM. Where are these lads? Where are these hearts? + QUINCE. Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour! + BOTTOM. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me not what; + for if I tell you, I am not true Athenian. I will tell you + everything, right as it fell out. + QUINCE. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. + BOTTOM. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the + Duke hath dined. Get your apparel together; good strings to your + beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; + every man look o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our + play is preferr'd. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and + let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall + hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no + onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not + doubt but to hear them say it is a sweet comedy. No more words. + Away, go, away! Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Athens. The palace of THESEUS + +Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, LORDS, and ATTENDANTS + + HIPPOLYTA. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. + THESEUS. More strange than true. I never may believe + These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. + Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, + Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend + More than cool reason ever comprehends. + The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, + Are of imagination all compact. + One sees more devils than vast hell can hold; + That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic, + Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt. + The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, + Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; + And as imagination bodies forth + The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen + Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing + A local habitation and a name. + Such tricks hath strong imagination + That, if it would but apprehend some joy, + It comprehends some bringer of that joy; + Or in the night, imagining some fear, + How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear? + HIPPOLYTA. But all the story of the night told over, + And all their minds transfigur'd so together, + More witnesseth than fancy's images, + And grows to something of great constancy, + But howsoever strange and admirable. + + Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA + + THESEUS. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. + Joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days of love + Accompany your hearts! + LYSANDER. More than to us + Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed! + THESEUS. Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have, + To wear away this long age of three hours + Between our after-supper and bed-time? + Where is our usual manager of mirth? + What revels are in hand? Is there no play + To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? + Call Philostrate. + PHILOSTRATE. Here, mighty Theseus. + THESEUS. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening? + What masque? what music? How shall we beguile + The lazy time, if not with some delight? + PHILOSTRATE. There is a brief how many sports are ripe; + Make choice of which your Highness will see first. + [Giving a paper] + THESEUS. 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung + By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.' + We'll none of that: that have I told my love, + In glory of my kinsman Hercules. + 'The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, + Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.' + That is an old device, and it was play'd + When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. + 'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death + Of Learning, late deceas'd in beggary.' + That is some satire, keen and critical, + Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. + 'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus + And his love Thisby; very tragical mirth.' + Merry and tragical! tedious and brief! + That is hot ice and wondrous strange snow. + How shall we find the concord of this discord? + PHILOSTRATE. A play there is, my lord, some ten words long, + Which is as brief as I have known a play; + But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, + Which makes it tedious; for in all the play + There is not one word apt, one player fitted. + And tragical, my noble lord, it is; + For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. + Which when I saw rehears'd, I must confess, + Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears + The passion of loud laughter never shed. + THESEUS. What are they that do play it? + PHILOSTRATE. Hard-handed men that work in Athens here, + Which never labour'd in their minds till now; + And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories + With this same play against your nuptial. + THESEUS. And we will hear it. + PHILOSTRATE. No, my noble lord, + It is not for you. I have heard it over, + And it is nothing, nothing in the world; + Unless you can find sport in their intents, + Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain, + To do you service. + THESEUS. I will hear that play; + For never anything can be amiss + When simpleness and duty tender it. + Go, bring them in; and take your places, ladies. + Exit PHILOSTRATE + HIPPOLYTA. I love not to see wretchedness o'er-charged, + And duty in his service perishing. + THESEUS. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. + HIPPOLYTA. He says they can do nothing in this kind. + THESEUS. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. + Our sport shall be to take what they mistake; + And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect + Takes it in might, not merit. + Where I have come, great clerks have purposed + To greet me with premeditated welcomes; + Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, + Make periods in the midst of sentences, + Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears, + And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off, + Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, + Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome; + And in the modesty of fearful duty + I read as much as from the rattling tongue + Of saucy and audacious eloquence. + Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity + In least speak most to my capacity. + + Re-enter PHILOSTRATE + + PHILOSTRATE. SO please your Grace, the Prologue is address'd. + THESEUS. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets] + + Enter QUINCE as the PROLOGUE + + PROLOGUE. If we offend, it is with our good will. + That you should think, we come not to offend, + But with good will. To show our simple skill, + That is the true beginning of our end. + Consider then, we come but in despite. + We do not come, as minding to content you, + Our true intent is. All for your delight + We are not here. That you should here repent you, + The actors are at band; and, by their show, + You shall know all, that you are like to know, + THESEUS. This fellow doth not stand upon points. + LYSANDER. He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not + the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but + to speak true. + HIPPOLYTA. Indeed he hath play'd on this prologue like a child on a + recorder- a sound, but not in government. + THESEUS. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing im paired, + but all disordered. Who is next? + + Enter, with a trumpet before them, as in dumb show, + PYRAMUS and THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, and LION + + PROLOGUE. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show; + But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. + This man is Pyramus, if you would know; + This beauteous lady Thisby is certain. + This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present + Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder; + And through Walls chink, poor souls, they are content + To whisper. At the which let no man wonder. + This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn, + Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know, + By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn + To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. + This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, + The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, + Did scare away, or rather did affright; + And as she fled, her mantle she did fall; + Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. + Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, + And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain; + Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, + He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast; + And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, + His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, + Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain, + At large discourse while here they do remain. + Exeunt PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY, + LION, and MOONSHINE + THESEUS. I wonder if the lion be to speak. + DEMETRIUS. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do. + WALL. In this same interlude it doth befall + That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; + And such a wall as I would have you think + That had in it a crannied hole or chink, + Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, + Did whisper often very secretly. + This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show + That I am that same wall; the truth is so; + And this the cranny is, right and sinister, + Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. + THESEUS. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? + DEMETRIUS. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard + discourse, my lord. + + Enter PYRAMUS + + THESEUS. Pyramus draws near the wall; silence. + PYRAMUS. O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black! + O night, which ever art when day is not! + O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, + I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot! + And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, + That stand'st between her father's ground and mine; + Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, + Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne. + [WALL holds up his fingers] + Thanks, courteous wall. Jove shield thee well for this! + But what see what see I? No Thisby do I see. + O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss, + Curs'd he thy stones for thus deceiving me! + THESEUS. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. + PYRAMUS. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me is Thisby's + cue. She is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. + You shall see it will fall pat as I told you; yonder she comes. + + Enter THISBY + + THISBY. O wall, full often hast thou beard my moans, + For parting my fair Pyramus and me! + My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones, + Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee. + PYRAMUS. I see a voice; now will I to the chink, + To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. + Thisby! + THISBY. My love! thou art my love, I think. + PYRAMUS. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace; + And like Limander am I trusty still. + THISBY. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. + PYRAMUS. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. + THISBY. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. + PYRAMUS. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall. + THISBY. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all. + PYRAMUS. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway? + THISBY. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay. + Exeunt PYRAMUS and THISBY + WALL. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; + And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. Exit WALL + THESEUS. Now is the moon used between the two neighbours. + DEMETRIUS. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear + without warning. + HIPPOLYTA. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard. + THESEUS. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are + no worse, if imagination amend them. + HIPPOLYTA. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. + THESEUS. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, + they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a + man and a lion. + + Enter LION and MOONSHINE + + LION. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear + The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, + May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, + When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. + Then know that I as Snug the joiner am + A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam; + For, if I should as lion come in strife + Into this place, 'twere pity on my life. + THESEUS. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. + DEMETRIUS. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. + LYSANDER. This lion is a very fox for his valour. + THESEUS. True; and a goose for his discretion. + DEMETRIUS. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his + discretion, and the fox carries the goose. + THESEUS. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for + the goose carries not the fox. It is well. Leave it to his + discretion, and let us listen to the Moon. + MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present- + DEMETRIUS. He should have worn the horns on his head. + THESEUS. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the + circumference. + MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present; + Myself the Man i' th' Moon do seem to be. + THESEUS. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man should + be put into the lantern. How is it else the man i' th' moon? + DEMETRIUS. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it + is already in snuff. + HIPPOLYTA. I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change! + THESEUS. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is + in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay + the time. + LYSANDER. Proceed, Moon. + MOON. All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn is + the moon; I, the Man i' th' Moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; + and this dog, my dog. + DEMETRIUS. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these + are in the moon. But silence; here comes Thisby. + + Re-enter THISBY + + THISBY. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love? + LION. [Roaring] O- [THISBY runs off] + DEMETRIUS. Well roar'd, Lion. + THESEUS. Well run, Thisby. + HIPPOLYTA. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good + grace. [The LION tears THISBY'S Mantle, and exit] + THESEUS. Well mous'd, Lion. + + Re-enter PYRAMUS + + DEMETRIUS. And then came Pyramus. + LYSANDER. And so the lion vanish'd. + PYRAMUS. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; + I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; + For, by thy gracious golden, glittering gleams, + I trust to take of truest Thisby sight. + But stay, O spite! + But mark, poor knight, + What dreadful dole is here! + Eyes, do you see? + How can it he? + O dainty duck! O dear! + Thy mantle good, + What! stain'd with blood? + Approach, ye Furies fell. + O Fates! come, come; + Cut thread and thrum; + Quail, crush, conclude, and quell. + THESEUS. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go + near to make a man look sad. + HIPPOLYTA. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. + PYRAMUS. O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame? + Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear; + Which is- no, no- which was the fairest dame + That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer. + Come, tears, confound; + Out, sword, and wound + The pap of Pyramus; + Ay, that left pap, + Where heart doth hop. [Stabs himself] + Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. + Now am I dead, + Now am I fled; + My soul is in the sky. + Tongue, lose thy light; + Moon, take thy flight. [Exit MOONSHINE] + Now die, die, die, die, die. [Dies] + DEMETRIUS. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. + LYSANDER. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. + THESEUS. With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover and yet + prove an ass. + HIPPOLYTA. How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisby comes back + and finds her lover? + + Re-enter THISBY + + THESEUS. She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and her + passion ends the play. + HIPPOLYTA. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a + Pyramus; I hope she will be brief. + DEMETRIUS. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which + Thisby, is the better- he for a man, God warrant us: She for a + woman, God bless us! + LYSANDER. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. + DEMETRIUS. And thus she moans, videlicet:- + THISBY. Asleep, my love? + What, dead, my dove? + O Pyramus, arise, + Speak, speak. Quite dumb? + Dead, dead? A tomb + Must cover thy sweet eyes. + These lily lips, + This cherry nose, + These yellow cowslip cheeks, + Are gone, are gone; + Lovers, make moan; + His eyes were green as leeks. + O Sisters Three, + Come, come to me, + With hands as pale as milk; + Lay them in gore, + Since you have shore + With shears his thread of silk. + Tongue, not a word. + Come, trusty sword; + Come, blade, my breast imbrue. [Stabs herself] + And farewell, friends; + Thus Thisby ends; + Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Dies] + THESEUS. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. + DEMETRIUS. Ay, and Wall too. + BOTTOM. [Starting up] No, I assure you; the wall is down that + parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or + to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company? + THESEUS. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. + Never excuse; for when the players are all dead there need none + to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus, and + hang'd himself in Thisby's garter, it would have been a fine + tragedy. And so it is, truly; and very notably discharg'd. But + come, your Bergomask; let your epilogue alone. [A dance] + The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. + Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. + I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn, + As much as we this night have overwatch'd. + This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd + The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. + A fortnight hold we this solemnity, + In nightly revels and new jollity. Exeunt + + Enter PUCK with a broom + + PUCK. Now the hungry lion roars, + And the wolf behowls the moon; + Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, + All with weary task fordone. + Now the wasted brands do glow, + Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, + Puts the wretch that lies in woe + In remembrance of a shroud. + Now it is the time of night + That the graves, all gaping wide, + Every one lets forth his sprite, + In the church-way paths to glide. + And we fairies, that do run + By the triple Hecate's team + From the presence of the sun, + Following darkness like a dream, + Now are frolic. Not a mouse + Shall disturb this hallowed house. + I am sent with broom before, + To sweep the dust behind the door. + + Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with all their train + + OBERON. Through the house give glimmering light, + By the dead and drowsy fire; + Every elf and fairy sprite + Hop as light as bird from brier; + And this ditty, after me, + Sing and dance it trippingly. + TITANIA. First, rehearse your song by rote, + To each word a warbling note; + Hand in hand, with fairy grace, + Will we sing, and bless this place. + + [OBERON leading, the FAIRIES sing and dance] + + OBERON. Now, until the break of day, + Through this house each fairy stray. + To the best bride-bed will we, + Which by us shall blessed be; + And the issue there create + Ever shall be fortunate. + So shall all the couples three + Ever true in loving be; + And the blots of Nature's hand + Shall not in their issue stand; + Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar, + Nor mark prodigious, such as are + Despised in nativity, + Shall upon their children be. + With this field-dew consecrate, + Every fairy take his gait, + And each several chamber bless, + Through this palace, with sweet peace; + And the owner of it blest + Ever shall in safety rest. + Trip away; make no stay; + Meet me all by break of day. Exeunt all but PUCK + PUCK. If we shadows have offended, + Think but this, and all is mended, + That you have but slumb'red here + While these visions did appear. + And this weak and idle theme, + No more yielding but a dream, + Gentles, do not reprehend. + If you pardon, we will mend. + And, as I am an honest Puck, + If we have unearned luck + Now to scape the serpent's tongue, + We will make amends ere long; + Else the Puck a liar call. + So, good night unto you all. + Give me your hands, if we be friends, + And Robin shall restore amends. Exit + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1599 + + +MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon. + Don John, his bastard brother. + Claudio, a young lord of Florence. + Benedick, a Young lord of Padua. + Leonato, Governor of Messina. + Antonio, an old man, his brother. + Balthasar, attendant on Don Pedro. + Borachio, follower of Don John. + Conrade, follower of Don John. + Friar Francis. + Dogberry, a Constable. + Verges, a Headborough. + A Sexton. + A Boy. + + Hero, daughter to Leonato. + Beatrice, niece to Leonato. + Margaret, waiting gentlewoman attending on Hero. + Ursula, waiting gentlewoman attending on Hero. + + Messengers, Watch, Attendants, etc. + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE.--Messina. + + +ACT I. Scene I. +An orchard before Leonato's house. + +Enter Leonato (Governor of Messina), Hero (his Daughter), +and Beatrice (his Niece), with a Messenger. + + Leon. I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this + night to Messina. + Mess. He is very near by this. He was not three leagues off when I + left him. + Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? + Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. + Leon. A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full + numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on + a young Florentine called Claudio. + Mess. Much deserv'd on his part, and equally rememb'red by Don + Pedro. He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing + in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion. He hath indeed + better bett'red expectation than you must expect of me to tell + you how. + Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. + Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much + joy in him; even so much that joy could not show itself modest + enough without a badge of bitterness. + Leon. Did he break out into tears? + Mess. In great measure. + Leon. A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer than + those that are so wash'd. How much better is it to weep at joy + than to joy at weeping! + Beat. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the wars or no? + Mess. I know none of that name, lady. There was none such in the + army of any sort. + Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece? + Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. + Mess. O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was. + Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina and challeng'd Cupid at + the flight, and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, + subscrib'd for Cupid and challeng'd him at the burbolt. I pray + you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? But how + many hath he kill'd? For indeed I promised to eat all of his + killing. + Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll + be meet with you, I doubt it not. + Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. + Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it. He is a + very valiant trencherman; he hath an excellent stomach. + Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. + Beat. And a good soldier to a lady; but what is he to a lord? + Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuff'd with all honourable + virtues. + Beat. It is so indeed. He is no less than a stuff'd man; but for + the stuffing--well, we are all mortal. + Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry + war betwixt Signior Benedick and her. They never meet but there's + a skirmish of wit between them. + Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that! In our last conflict four of + his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd + with one; so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let + him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for + it is all the wealth that he hath left to be known a reasonable + creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new + sworn brother. + Mess. Is't possible? + Beat. Very easily possible. He wears his faith but as the fashion + of his hat; it ever changes with the next block. + Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. + Beat. No. An he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is + his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a + voyage with him to the devil? + Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. + Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease! He is sooner + caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God + help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will + cost him a thousand pound ere 'a be cured. + Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady. + Beat. Do, good friend. + Leon. You will never run mad, niece. + Beat. No, not till a hot January. + Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd. + + Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, and John the Bastard. + + Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble? The + fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. + Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace; + for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart + from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave. + Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this is your + daughter. + Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so. + Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you ask'd her? + Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child. + Pedro. You have it full, Benedick. We may guess by this what you + are, being a man. Truly the lady fathers herself. Be happy, lady; + for you are like an honourable father. + Bene. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head + on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is. + Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick. + Nobody marks you. + Bene. What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? + Beat. Is it possible Disdain should die while she hath such meet + food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert + to disdain if you come in her presence. + Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of + all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my + heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none. + Beat. A dear happiness to women! They would else have been troubled + with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of + your humour for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow + than a man swear he loves me. + Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind! So some gentleman + or other shall scape a predestinate scratch'd face. + Beat. Scratching could not make it worse an 'twere such a face as + yours were. + Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. + Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. + Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a + continuer. But keep your way, a God's name! I have done. + Beat. You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old. + Pedro. That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior Claudio and Signior + Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him + we shall stay here at the least a month, and he heartly prays + some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no + hypocrite, but prays from his heart. + Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. [To Don + John] Let me bid you welcome, my lord. Being reconciled to the + Prince your brother, I owe you all duty. + John. I thank you. I am not of many words, but I thank you. + Leon. Please it your Grace lead on? + Pedro. Your hand, Leonato. We will go together. + Exeunt. Manent Benedick and Claudio. + Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? + Bene. I noted her not, but I look'd on her. + Claud. Is she not a modest young lady? + Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple + true judgment? or would you have me speak after my custom, as + being a professed tyrant to their sex? + Claud. No. I pray thee speak in sober judgment. + Bene. Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, + too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise. + Only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other + than she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other but as she + is, I do not like her. + Claud. Thou thinkest I am in sport. I pray thee tell me truly how + thou lik'st her. + Bene. Would you buy her, that you enquire after her? + Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel? + Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with a sad + brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a + good hare-finder and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key + shall a man take you to go in the song? + Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I look'd on. + Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter. + There's her cousin, an she were not possess'd with a fury,exceeds + her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of + December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have + you? + Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the + contrary, if Hero would be my wife. + Bene. Is't come to this? In faith, hath not the world one man but + he will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a + bachelor of threescore again? Go to, i' faith! An thou wilt needs + thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it and sigh away + Sundays. + + Enter Don Pedro. + + Look! Don Pedro is returned to seek you. + Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to + Leonato's? + Bene. I would your Grace would constrain me to tell. + Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. + Bene. You hear, Count Claudio. I can be secret as a dumb man, I + would have you think so; but, on my allegiance--mark you this-on + my allegiance! he is in love. With who? Now that is your Grace's + part. Mark how short his answer is: With Hero, Leonato's short + daughter. + Claud. If this were so, so were it utt'red. + Bene. Like the old tale, my lord: 'It is not so, nor 'twas not so; + but indeed, God forbid it should be so!' + Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be + otherwise. + Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy. + Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. + Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. + Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. + Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine. + Claud. That I love her, I feel. + Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. + Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she + should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me. + I will die in it at the stake. + Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of + beauty. + Claud. And never could maintain his part but in the force of his + will. + Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me + up, I likewise give her most humble thanks; but that I will have + a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible + baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them + the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust + none; and the fine is (for the which I may go the finer), I will + live a bachelor. + Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. + Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with + love. Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get + again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen + and hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the sign of + blind Cupid. + Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt + prove a notable argument. + Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me; and + he that hits me, let him be clapp'd on the shoulder and call'd + Adam. + Pedro. Well, as time shall try. + 'In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.' + Bene. The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear + it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead, and + let me be vilely painted, and in such great letters as they write + 'Here is good horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign + 'Here you may see Benedick the married man.' + Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad. + Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou + wilt quake for this shortly. + Bene. I look for an earthquake too then. + Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the meantime, + good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's, commend me to him and + tell him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made + great preparation. + Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage; and + so I commit you-- + Claud. To the tuition of God. From my house--if I had it-- + Pedro. The sixth of July. Your loving friend, Benedick. + Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse is + sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly + basted on neither. Ere you flout old ends any further, examine + your conscience. And so I leave you. Exit. + Claud. My liege, your Highness now may do me good. + Pedro. My love is thine to teach. Teach it but how, + And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn + Any hard lesson that may do thee good. + Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord? + Pedro. No child but Hero; she's his only heir. + Dost thou affect her, Claudio? + Claud.O my lord, + When you went onward on this ended action, + I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, + That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand + Than to drive liking to the name of love; + But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts + Have left their places vacant, in their rooms + Come thronging soft and delicate desires, + All prompting me how fair young Hero is, + Saying I lik'd her ere I went to wars. + Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently + And tire the hearer with a book of words. + If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, + And I will break with her and with her father, + And thou shalt have her. Wast not to this end + That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? + Claud. How sweetly you do minister to love, + That know love's grief by his complexion! + But lest my liking might too sudden seem, + I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. + Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than the flood? + The fairest grant is the necessity. + Look, what will serve is fit. 'Tis once, thou lovest, + And I will fit thee with the remedy. + I know we shall have revelling to-night. + I will assume thy part in some disguise + And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, + And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart + And take her hearing prisoner with the force + And strong encounter of my amorous tale. + Then after to her father will I break, + And the conclusion is, she shall be thine. + In practice let us put it presently. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +A room in Leonato's house. + +Enter [at one door] Leonato and [at another door, Antonio] an old man, +brother to Leonato. + + Leon. How now, brother? Where is my cousin your son? Hath he + provided this music? + Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell you strange + news that you yet dreamt not of. + Leon. Are they good? + Ant. As the event stamps them; but they have a good cover, they + show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio, walking in a + thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, were thus much overheard by + a man of mine: the Prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my + niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it this night in a + dance, and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the + present time by the top and instantly break with you of it. + Leon. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? + Ant. A good sharp fellow. I will send for him, and question him + yourself. + Leon. No, no. We will hold it as a dream till it appear itself; but + I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better + prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and + tell her of it. [Exit Antonio.] + + [Enter Antonio's Son with a Musician, and others.] + + [To the Son] Cousin, you know what you have to do. + --[To the Musician] O, I cry you mercy, friend. Go you with me, + and I will use your skill.--Good cousin, have a care this busy + time. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Another room in Leonato's house.] + +Enter Sir John the Bastard and Conrade, his companion. + + Con. What the goodyear, my lord! Why are you thus out of measure + sad? + John. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore + the sadness is without limit. + Con. You should hear reason. + John. And when I have heard it, what blessings brings it? + Con. If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance. + John. I wonder that thou (being, as thou say'st thou art, born + under Saturn) goest about to apply a moral medicine to a + mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when + I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have + stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, + and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no + man in his humour. + Con. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this till you may + do it without controlment. You have of late stood out against + your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where + it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair + weather that you make yourself. It is needful that you frame the + season for your own harvest. + John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace, + and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all than to + fashion a carriage to rob love from any. In this, though I cannot + be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but + I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle and + enfranchis'd with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in + my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I + would do my liking. In the meantime let me be that I am, and seek + not to alter me. + Con. Can you make no use of your discontent? + John. I make all use of it, for I use it only. + + Enter Borachio. + + Who comes here? What news, Borachio? + Bora. I came yonder from a great supper. The Prince your brother is + royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence + of an intended marriage. + John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? + What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness? + Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand. + John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio? + Bora. Even he. + John. A proper squire! And who? and who? which way looks he? + Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. + John. A very forward March-chick! How came you to this? + Bora. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoking a musty + room, comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad + conference. I whipt me behind the arras and there heard it agreed + upon that the Prince should woo Hero for himself, and having + obtain'd her, give her to Count Claudio. + John. Come, come, let us thither. This may prove food to my + displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my + overthrow. If I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way. + You are both sure, and will assist me? + Con. To the death, my lord. + John. Let us to the great supper. Their cheer is the greater that + I am subdued. Would the cook were o' my mind! Shall we go prove + what's to be done? + Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship. + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. Scene I. +A hall in Leonato's house. + +Enter Leonato, [Antonio] his Brother, Hero his Daughter, +and Beatrice his Niece, and a Kinsman; [also Margaret and Ursula]. + + Leon. Was not Count John here at supper? + Ant. I saw him not. + Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am + heart-burn'd an hour after. + Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. + Beat. He were an excellent man that were made just in the midway + between him and Benedick. The one is too like an image and says + nothing, and the other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore + tattling. + Leon. Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth, + and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face-- + Beat. With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in + his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world--if 'a + could get her good will. + Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband if + thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. + Ant. In faith, she's too curst. + Beat. Too curst is more than curst. I shall lessen God's sending + that way, for it is said, 'God sends a curst cow short horns,' + but to a cow too curst he sends none. + Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. + Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am + at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord, I could not + endure a husband with a beard on his face. I had rather lie in + the woollen! + Leon. You may light on a husband that hath no beard. + Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel and make + him my waiting gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a + youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that + is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a + man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in + earnest of the berrord and lead his apes into hell. + Leon. Well then, go you into hell? + Beat. No; but to the gate, and there will the devil meet me like an + old cuckold with horns on his head, and say 'Get you to heaven, + Beatrice, get you to heaven. Here's no place for you maids.' So + deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter--for the heavens. + He shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry + as the day is long. + Ant. [to Hero] Well, niece, I trust you will be rul'd by your + father. + Beat. Yes faith. It is my cousin's duty to make cursy and say, + 'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all that, cousin, let him + be a handsome fellow, or else make another cursy, and say, + 'Father, as it please me.' + Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. + Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would + it not grieve a woman to be overmaster'd with a piece of valiant + dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? + No, uncle, I'll none. Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly I + hold it a sin to match in my kinred. + Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you. If the Prince do solicit + you in that kind, you know your answer. + Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed + in good time. If the Prince be too important, tell him there is + measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For, hear me, + Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a + measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty like + a Scotch jig--and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly + modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes + Repentance and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace + faster and faster, till he sink into his grave. + Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. + Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight. + Leon. The revellers are ent'ring, brother. Make good room. + [Exit Antonio.] + + Enter, [masked,] Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Balthasar. + [With them enter Antonio, also masked. After them enter] + Don John [and Borachio (without masks), who stand aside + and look on during the dance]. + + Pedro. Lady, will you walk a bout with your friend? + Hero. So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing, + I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away. + Pedro. With me in your company? + Hero. I may say so when I please. + Pedro. And when please you to say so? + Hero. When I like your favour, for God defend the lute should be + like the case! + Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. + Hero. Why then, your visor should be thatch'd. + Pedro. Speak low if you speak love. [Takes her aside.] + Balth. Well, I would you did like me. + Marg. So would not I for your own sake, for I have many ill + qualities. + Balth. Which is one? + Marg. I say my prayers aloud. + Balth. I love you the better. The hearers may cry Amen. + Marg. God match me with a good dancer! + Balth. Amen. + Marg. And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done! + Answer, clerk. + Balth. No more words. The clerk is answered. + [Takes her aside.] + Urs. I know you well enough. You are Signior Antonio. + Ant. At a word, I am not. + Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head. + Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. + Urs. You could never do him so ill-well unless you were the very + man. Here's his dry hand up and down. You are he, you are he! + Ant. At a word, I am not. + Urs. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your excellent + wit? Can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum you are he. Graces will + appear, and there's an end. [ They step aside.] + Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so? + Bene. No, you shall pardon me. + Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are? + Bene. Not now. + Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the + 'Hundred Merry Tales.' Well, this was Signior Benedick that said + so. + Bene. What's he? + Beat. I am sure you know him well enough. + Bene. Not I, believe me. + Beat. Did he never make you laugh? + Bene. I pray you, what is he? + Beat. Why, he is the Prince's jester, a very dull fool. Only his + gift is in devising impossible slanders. None but libertines + delight in him; and the commendation is not in his wit, but in + his villany; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then + they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet. + I would he had boarded me. + Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. + Beat. Do, do. He'll but break a comparison or two on me; which + peradventure, not marked or not laugh'd at, strikes him into + melancholy; and then there's a partridge wing saved, for the fool + will eat no supper that night. + [Music.] + We must follow the leaders. + Bene. In every good thing. + Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next + turning. + Dance. Exeunt (all but Don John, Borachio, and Claudio]. + John. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath withdrawn her + father to break with him about it. The ladies follow her and but + one visor remains. + Bora. And that is Claudio. I know him by his bearing. + John. Are you not Signior Benedick? + Claud. You know me well. I am he. + John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love. He is + enamour'd on Hero. I pray you dissuade him from her; she is no + equal for his birth. You may do the part of an honest man in it. + Claud. How know you he loves her? + John. I heard him swear his affection. + Bora. So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight. + John. Come, let us to the banquet. + Exeunt. Manet Claudio. + Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick + But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. + [Unmasks.] + 'Tis certain so. The Prince wooes for himself. + Friendship is constant in all other things + Save in the office and affairs of love. + Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; + Let every eye negotiate for itself + And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch + Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. + This is an accident of hourly proof, + Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero! + + Enter Benedick [unmasked]. + + Bene. Count Claudio? + Claud. Yea, the same. + Bene. Come, will you go with me? + Claud. Whither? + Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, County. What + fashion will you wear the garland of? about your neck, like an + usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You + must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero. + Claud. I wish him joy of her. + Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier. So they sell + bullocks. But did you think the Prince would have served you + thus? + Claud. I pray you leave me. + Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man! 'Twas the boy that + stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. + Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. Exit. + Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges. But, + that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me! The + Prince's fool! Ha! it may be I go under that title because I am + merry. Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong. I am not so + reputed. It is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice + that puts the world into her person and so gives me out. Well, + I'll be revenged as I may. + + Enter Don Pedro. + + Pedro. Now, signior, where's the Count? Did you see him? + Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame, I found + him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren. I told him, and I + think I told him true, that your Grace had got the good will of + this young lady, and I off'red him my company to a willow tree, + either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him + up a rod, as being worthy to be whipt. + Pedro. To be whipt? What's his fault? + Bene. The flat transgression of a schoolboy who, being overjoyed + with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals + it. + Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is + in the stealer. + Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the + garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the + rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stol'n + his bird's nest. + Pedro. I will but teach them to sing and restore them to the owner. + Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say + honestly. + Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you. The gentleman that + danc'd with her told her she is much wrong'd by you. + Bene. O, she misus'd me past the endurance of a block! An oak but + with one green leaf on it would have answered her; my very visor + began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not + thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, that + I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with such + impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark, + with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every + word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as her terminations, + there were no living near her; she would infect to the North + Star. I would not marry her though she were endowed with all that + Adam had left him before he transgress'd. She would have made + Hercules have turn'd spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make + the fire too. Come, talk not of her. You shall find her the + infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would + conjure her, for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as + quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, + because they would go thither; so indeed all disquiet, horror, + and perturbation follows her. + + Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero. + + Pedro. Look, here she comes. + Bene. Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end? I + will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can + devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the + furthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's + foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any + embassage to the Pygmies--rather than hold three words' + conference with this harpy. You have no employment for me? + Pedro. None, but to desire your good company. + Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not! I cannot endure my Lady + Tongue. [Exit.] + Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior + Benedick. + Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gave him use for + it--a double heart for his single one. Marry, once before he won + it of me with false dice; therefore your Grace may well say I + have lost it. + Pedro. You have put him down, lady; you have put him down. + Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove + the mother of fools. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent + me to seek. + Pedro. Why, how now, Count? Wherefore are you sad? + Claud. Not sad, my lord. + Pedro. How then? sick? + Claud. Neither, my lord. + Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but + civil count--civil as an orange, and something of that jealous + complexion. + Pedro. I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though I'll + be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I + have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won. I have broke with + her father, and his good will obtained. Name the day of marriage, + and God give thee joy! + Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes. His + Grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it! + Beat. Speak, Count, 'tis your cue. + Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little + happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours. + I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange. + Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss + and let not him speak neither. + Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. + Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy + side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her + heart. + Claud. And so she doth, cousin. + Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but + I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a corner and cry 'Heigh-ho for + a husband!' + Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. + Beat. I would rather have one of your father's getting. Hath your + Grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent + husbands, if a maid could come by them. + Pedro. Will you have me, lady? + Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working days: + your Grace is too costly to wear every day. But I beseech your + Grace pardon me. I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. + Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes + you, for out o' question you were born in a merry hour. + Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star + danc'd, and under that was I born. Cousins, God give you joy! + Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? + Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle, By your Grace's pardon. Exit. + Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. + Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord. She + is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I + have heard my daughter say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness + and wak'd herself with laughing. + Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. + Leon. O, by no means! She mocks all her wooers out of suit. + Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. + Leon. O Lord, my lord! if they were but a week married, they would + talk themselves mad. + Pedro. County Claudio, when mean you to go to church? + Claud. To-morrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches till love have all + his rites. + Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just + sevennight; and a time too brief too, to have all things answer + my mind. + Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; + but I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. + I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labours, which + is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a + mountain of affection th' one with th' other. I would fain have + it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it if you three will + but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. + Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' + watchings. + Claud. And I, my lord. + Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? + Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a + good husband. + Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know. + Thus far can I praise him: he is of a noble strain, of approved + valour, and confirm'd honesty. I will teach you how to humour + your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, + [to Leonato and Claudio] with your two helps, will so practise on + Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy + stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, + Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are + the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +A hall in Leonato's house. + +Enter [Don] John and Borachio. + + John. It is so. The Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of + Leonato. + Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it. + John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be med'cinable to me. + I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his + affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this + marriage? + Bora. Not honestly, my lord, but so covertly that no dishonesty + shall appear in me. + John. Show me briefly how. + Bora. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in + the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero. + John. I remember. + Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her + to look out at her lady's chamber window. + John. What life is in that to be the death of this marriage? + Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the + Prince your brother; spare not to tell him that he hath wronged + his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio (whose estimation do + you mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one as + Hero. + John. What proof shall I make of that? + Bora. Proof enough to misuse the Prince, to vex Claudio, to undo + Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue? + John. Only to despite them I will endeavour anything. + Bora. Go then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count + Claudio alone; tell them that you know that Hero loves me; intend + a kind of zeal both to the Prince and Claudio, as--in love of + your brother's honour, who hath made this match, and his friend's + reputation, who is thus like to be cozen'd with the semblance of + a maid--that you have discover'd thus. They will scarcely believe + this without trial. Offer them instances; which shall bear no + less likelihood than to see me at her chamber window, hear me + call Margaret Hero, hear Margaret term me Claudio; and bring them + to see this the very night before the intended wedding (for in + the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be + absent) and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's + disloyalty that jealousy shall be call'd assurance and all the + preparation overthrown. + John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in + practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a + thousand ducats. + Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not + shame me. + John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Leonato's orchard. + +Enter Benedick alone. + + Bene. Boy! + + [Enter Boy.] + + Boy. Signior? + Bene. In my chamber window lies a book. Bring it hither to me in + the orchard. + Boy. I am here already, sir. + Bene. I know that, but I would have thee hence and here again. + (Exit Boy.) I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much + another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, + will, after he hath laugh'd at such shallow follies in others, + become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love; and such + a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him + but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor + and the pipe. I have known when he would have walk'd ten mile + afoot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake + carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain + and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is + he turn'd orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet-- + just so many strange dishes. May I be so converted and see with + these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn but + love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, + till he have made an oyster of me he shall never make me such a + fool. One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am + well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in + one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall + be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never + cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not + near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an + excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it + please God. Ha, the Prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in + the arbour. [Hides.] + + Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio. + Music [within]. + + Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music? + Claud. Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is, + As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! + Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself? + Claud. O, very well, my lord. The music ended, + We'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth. + + Enter Balthasar with Music. + + Pedro. Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again. + Balth. O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice + To slander music any more than once. + Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency + To put a strange face on his own perfection. + I pray thee sing, and let me woo no more. + Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing, + Since many a wooer doth commence his suit + To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes, + Yet will he swear he loves. + Pedro. Nay, pray thee come; + Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, + Do it in notes. + Balth. Note this before my notes: + There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. + Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks! + Note notes, forsooth, and nothing! [Music.] + Bene. [aside] Now divine air! Now is his soul ravish'd! Is it not + strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? + Well, a horn for my money, when all's done. + [Balthasar sings.] + The Song. + + Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more! + Men were deceivers ever, + One foot in sea, and one on shore; + To one thing constant never. + Then sigh not so, + But let them go, + And be you blithe and bonny, + Converting all your sounds of woe + Into Hey nonny, nonny. + + Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, + Of dumps so dull and heavy! + The fraud of men was ever so, + Since summer first was leavy. + Then sigh not so, &c. + + Pedro. By my troth, a good song. + Balth. And an ill singer, my lord. + Pedro. Ha, no, no, faith! Thou sing'st well enough for a shift. + Bene. [aside] An he had been a dog that should have howl'd thus, + they would have hang'd him; and I pray God his bad voice bode no + mischief. I had as live have heard the night raven, come what + plague could have come after it. + Pedro. Yea, marry. Dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee get us + some excellent music; for to-morrow night we would have it at the + Lady Hero's chamber window. + Balth. The best I can, my lord. + Pedro. Do so. Farewell. + Exit Balthasar [with Musicians]. + Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day? that + your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick? + Claud. O, ay!-[Aside to Pedro] Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. + --I did never think that lady would have loved any man. + Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote + on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours + seem'd ever to abhor. + Bene. [aside] Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? + Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but + that she loves him with an enraged affection. It is past the + infinite of thought. + Pedro. May be she doth but counterfeit. + Claud. Faith, like enough. + Leon. O God, counterfeit? There was never counterfeit of passion + came so near the life of passion as she discovers it. + Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she? + Claud. [aside] Bait the hook well! This fish will bite. + Leon. What effects, my lord? She will sit you--you heard my + daughter tell you how. + Claud. She did indeed. + Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me. I would have thought her + spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection. + Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord--especially against + Benedick. + Bene. [aside] I should think this a gull but that the white-bearded + fellow speaks it. Knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such + reverence. + Claud. [aside] He hath ta'en th' infection. Hold it up. + Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? + Leon. No, and swears she never will. That's her torment. + Claud. 'Tis true indeed. So your daughter says. 'Shall I,' says + she, 'that have so oft encount'red him with scorn, write to him + that I love him?'" + Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for + she'll be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her + smock till she have writ a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us + all. + Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest + your daughter told us of. + Leon. O, when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found + 'Benedick' and 'Beatrice' between the sheet? + Claud. That. + Leon. O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, rail'd at + herself that she should be so immodest to write to one that she + knew would flout her. 'I measure him,' says she, 'by my own + spirit; for I should flout him if he writ to me. Yea, though I + love him, I should.' + Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her + heart, tears her hair, prays, curses--'O sweet Benedick! God give + me patience!' + Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so. And the ecstasy hath so + much overborne her that my daughter is sometime afeard she will + do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true. + Pedro. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she + will not discover it. + Claud. To what end? He would make but a sport of it and torment the + poor lady worse. + Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him! She's an + excellent sweet lady, and (out of all suspicion) she is virtuous. + Claud. And she is exceeding wise. + Pedro. In everything but in loving Benedick. + Leon. O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, + we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry + for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. + Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on me. I would have + daff'd all other respects and made her half myself. I pray you + tell Benedick of it and hear what 'a will say. + Leon. Were it good, think you? + Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die + if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known, + and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will bate one + breath of her accustomed crossness. + Pedro. She doth well. If she should make tender of her love, 'tis + very possible he'll scorn it; for the man (as you know all) hath + a contemptible spirit. + Claud. He is a very proper man. + Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward happiness. + Claud. Before God! and in my mind, very wise. + Pedro. He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit. + Claud. And I take him to be valiant. + Pedro. As Hector, I assure you; and in the managing of quarrels you + may say he is wise, for either he avoids them with great + discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christianlike fear. + Leon. If he do fear God, 'a must necessarily keep peace. If he + break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and + trembling. + Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it + seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am + sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick and tell him of + her love? + Claud. Never tell him, my lord. Let her wear it out with good + counsel. + Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first. + Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter. Let it + cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he would + modestly examine himself to see how much he is unworthy so good a + lady. + Leon. My lord, will you .walk? Dinner is ready. + [They walk away.] + Claud. If he dote on her upon this, I will never trust my + expectation. + Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your + daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The sport will be, when they + hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter. + That's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb + show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. + Exeunt [Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato]. + + [Benedick advances from the arbour.] + + Bene. This can be no trick. The conference was sadly borne; they + have the truth of this from Hero; they seem to pity the lady. + It seems her affections have their full bent. Love me? Why, it + must be requited. I hear how I am censur'd. They say I will bear + myself proudly if I perceive the love come from her. They say too + that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did + never think to marry. I must not seem proud. Happy are they that + hear their detractions and can put them to mending. They say the + lady is fair--'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous + --'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me--by + my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of + her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance + have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me because I + have railed so long against marriage. But doth not the appetite + alters? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure + in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of + the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No, the world + must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not + think I should live till I were married. + + Enter Beatrice. + + Here comes Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair lady! I do spy + some marks of love in her. + Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid You come in to dinner. + Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. + Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to + thank me. If it had been painful, I would not have come. + Bene. You take pleasure then in the message? + Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knives point, and + choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior. Fare you well. +Exit. + Bene. Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.' + There's a double meaning in that. 'I took no more pains for those + thanks than you took pains to thank me.' That's as much as to + say, 'Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks.' If I + do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I + am a Jew. I will go get her picture. Exit. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. Scene I. +Leonato's orchard. + +Enter Hero and two Gentlewomen, Margaret and Ursula. + + Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour. + There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice + Proposing with the Prince and Claudio. + Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursley + Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse + Is all of her. Say that thou overheard'st us; + And bid her steal into the pleached bower, + Where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun, + Forbid the sun to enter--like favourites, + Made proud by princes, that advance their pride + Against that power that bred it. There will she hide her + To listen our propose. This is thy office. + Bear thee well in it and leave us alone. + Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. [Exit.] + Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, + As we do trace this alley up and down, + Our talk must only be of Benedick. + When I do name him, let it be thy part + To praise him more than ever man did merit. + My talk to thee must be how Benedick + Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter + Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, + That only wounds by hearsay. + + [Enter Beatrice.] + + Now begin; + For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs + Close by the ground, to hear our conference. + + [Beatrice hides in the arbour]. + + Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish + Cut with her golden oars the silver stream + And greedily devour the treacherous bait. + So angle we for Beatrice, who even now + Is couched in the woodbine coverture. + Fear you not my part of the dialogue. + Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing + Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. + [They approach the arbour.] + No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful. + I know her spirits are as coy and wild + As haggards of the rock. + Urs. But are you sure + That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? + Hero. So says the Prince, and my new-trothed lord. + Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? + Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it; + But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, + To wish him wrestle with affection + And never to let Beatrice know of it. + Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman + Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed + As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? + Hero. O god of love! I know he doth deserve + As much as may be yielded to a man: + But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart + Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice. + Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, + Misprizing what they look on; and her wit + Values itself so highly that to her + All matter else seems weak. She cannot love, + Nor take no shape nor project of affection, + She is so self-endeared. + Urs. Sure I think so; + And therefore certainly it were not good + She knew his love, lest she'll make sport at it. + Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, + How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd, + But she would spell him backward. If fair-fac'd, + She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; + If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic, + Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; + If low, an agate very vilely cut; + If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; + If silent, why, a block moved with none. + So turns she every man the wrong side out + And never gives to truth and virtue that + Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. + Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. + Hero. No, not to be so odd, and from all fashions, + As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. + But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, + She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me + Out of myself, press me to death with wit! + Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, + Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly. + It were a better death than die with mocks, + Which is as bad as die with tickling. + Urs. Yet tell her of it. Hear what she will say. + Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick + And counsel him to fight against his passion. + And truly, I'll devise some honest slanders + To stain my cousin with. One doth not know + How much an ill word may empoison liking. + Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong! + She cannot be so much without true judgment + (Having so swift and excellent a wit + As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse + So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. + Hero. He is the only man of Italy, + Always excepted my dear Claudio. + Urs. I pray you be not angry with me, madam, + Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick, + For shape, for bearing, argument, and valour, + Goes foremost in report through Italy. + Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name. + Urs. His excellence did earn it ere he had it. + When are you married, madam? + Hero. Why, every day to-morrow! Come, go in. + I'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel + Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. + [They walk away.] + Urs. She's lim'd, I warrant you! We have caught her, madam. + Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; + Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. + Exeunt [Hero and Ursula]. + + [Beatrice advances from the arbour.] + + Beat. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? + Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? + Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! + No glory lives behind the back of such. + And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, + Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand. + If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee + To bind our loves up in a holy band; + For others say thou dost deserve, and I + Believe it better than reportingly. Exit. + + + + +Scene II. +A room in Leonato's house. + +Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, and Leonato. + + Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go + I toward Arragon. + Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me. + Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your + marriage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear + it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from + the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth. + He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring, and the little + hangman dare not shoot at him. He hath a heart as sound as a + bell; and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks, + his tongue speaks. + Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. + Leon. So say I. Methinks you are sadder. + Claud. I hope he be in love. + Pedro. Hang him, truant! There's no true drop of blood in him to be + truly touch'd with love. If he be sad, he wants money. + Bene. I have the toothache. + Pedro. Draw it. + Bene. Hang it! + Claud. You must hang it first and draw it afterwards. + Pedro. What? sigh for the toothache? + Leon. Where is but a humour or a worm. + Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it. + Claud. Yet say I he is in love. + Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy + that he hath to strange disguises; as to be a Dutchman to-day, a + Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as + a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from + the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this + foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you + would have it appear he is. + Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing + old signs. 'A brushes his hat o' mornings. What should that bode? + Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's? + Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the + old ornament of his cheek hath already stuff'd tennis balls. + Leon. Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard. + Pedro. Nay, 'a rubs himself with civet. Can you smell him out by + that? + Claud. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. + Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy. + Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face? + Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which I hear what they say + of him. + Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is new-crept into a + lutestring, and now govern'd by stops. + Pedro. Indeed that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, conclude, + he is in love. + Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. + Pedro. That would I know too. I warrant, one that knows him not. + Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and in despite of all, dies for + him. + Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards. + Bene. Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old signior, walk + aside with me. I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak + to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear. + [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.] + Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice! + Claud. 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their + parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one + another when they meet. + + Enter John the Bastard. + + John. My lord and brother, God save you. + Pedro. Good den, brother. + John. If your leisure serv'd, I would speak with you. + Pedro. In private? + John. If it please you. Yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I + would speak of concerns him. + Pedro. What's the matter? + John. [to Claudio] Means your lordship to be married tomorrow? + Pedro. You know he does. + John. I know not that, when he knows what I know. + Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. + John. You may think I love you not. Let that appear hereafter, and + aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I + think he holds you well and in dearness of heart hath holp to + effect your ensuing marriage--surely suit ill spent and labour + ill bestowed! + Pedro. Why, what's the matter? + John. I came hither to tell you, and, circumstances short'ned (for + she has been too long a-talking of), the lady is disloyal. + Claud. Who? Hero? + John. Even she--Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero. + Claud. Disloyal? + John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness. I could say + she were worse; think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to + it. Wonder not till further warrant. Go but with me to-night, you + shall see her chamber window ent'red, even the night before her + wedding day. If you love her then, to-morrow wed her. But it + would better fit your honour to change your mind. + Claud. May this be so? + Pedro. I will not think it. + John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you + know. If you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you + have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly. + Claud. If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her + to-morrow, in the congregation where I should wed, there will I + shame her. + Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with + thee to disgrace her. + John. I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses. + Bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself. + Pedro. O day untowardly turned! + Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting! + John. O plague right well prevented! + So will you say when you have seen the Sequel. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +A street. + +Enter Dogberry and his compartner [Verges], with the Watch. + + Dog. Are you good men and true? + Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, + body and soul. + Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them if they should + have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's watch. + Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. + Dog. First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable? + 1. Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal; for they can write + and read. + Dog. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. God hath bless'd you with a + good name. To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune, but + to write and read comes by nature. + 2. Watch. Both which, Master Constable-- + Dog. You have. I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your + favour, sir, why, give God thanks and make no boast of it; and + for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no + need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most + senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch. Therefore + bear you the lanthorn. This is your charge: you shall comprehend + all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the Prince's + name. + 2. Watch. How if 'a will not stand? + Dog. Why then, take no note of him, but let him go, and presently + call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of + a knave. + Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the + Prince's subjects. + Dog. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Prince's + subjects. You shall also make no noise in the streets; for for + the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable, and not to be + endured. + 2. Watch. We will rather sleep than talk. We know what belongs to + a watch. + Dog. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I + cannot see how sleeping should offend. Only have a care that your + bills be not stol'n. Well, you are to call at all the alehouses + and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. + 2. Watch. How if they will not? + Dog. Why then, let them alone till they are sober. If they make you + not then the better answer, You may say they are not the men you + took them for. + 2. Watch. Well, sir. + Dog. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your + office, to be no true man; and for such kind of men, the less you + meddle or make with them, why, the more your honesty. + 2. Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on + him? + Dog. Truly, by your office you may; but I think they that touch + pitch will be defil'd. The most peaceable way for you, if you do + take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and steal + out of your company. + Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, partner. + Dog. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who + hath any honesty in him. + Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the + nurse and bid her still it. + 2. Watch. How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us? + Dog. Why then, depart in peace and let the child wake her with + crying; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will + never answer a calf when he bleats. + Verg. 'Tis very true. + Dog. This is the end of the charge: you, constable, are to present + the Prince's own person. If you meet the Prince in the night, + you may stay him. + Verg. Nay, by'r lady, that I think 'a cannot. + Dog. Five shillings to one on't with any man that knows the + statutes, he may stay him! Marry, not without the Prince be + willing; for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is + an offence to stay a man against his will. + Verg. By'r lady, I think it be so. + Dog. Ha, ah, ha! Well, masters, good night. An there be any matter + of weight chances, call up me. Keep your fellows' counsels and + your own, and good night. Come, neighbour. + 2. Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge. Let us go sit here + upon the church bench till two, and then all to bed. + Dog. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch about + Signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being there tomorrow, + there is a great coil to-night. Adieu. Be vigitant, I beseech + you. Exeunt [Dogberry and Verges]. + + Enter Borachio and Conrade. + + Bora. What, Conrade! + 2. Watch. [aside] Peace! stir not! + Bora. Conrade, I say! + Con. Here, man. I am at thy elbow. + Bora. Mass, and my elbow itch'd! I thought there would a scab + follow. + Con. I will owe thee an answer for that; and now forward with thy + tale. + Bora. Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles + rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. + 2. Watch. [aside] Some treason, masters. Yet stand close. + Bora. Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. + Con. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? + Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villany + should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, + poor ones may make what price they will. + Con. I wonder at it. + Bora. That shows thou art unconfirm'd. Thou knowest that the + fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. + Con. Yes, it is apparel. + Bora. I mean the fashion. + Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. + Bora. Tush! I may as well say the fool's the fool. But seest thou + not what a deformed thief this fashion is? + 2. Watch. [aside] I know that Deformed. 'A bas been a vile thief + this seven year; 'a goes up and down like a gentleman. I remember + his name. + Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody? + Con. No; 'twas the vane on the house. + Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? + how giddily 'a turns about all the hot-bloods between fourteen + and five-and-thirty? sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh's + soldiers in the reechy painting, sometime like god Bel's priests + in the old church window, sometime like the shaven Hercules in + the smirch'd worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as + massy as his club? + Con. All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears out more + apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the + fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling + me of the fashion? + Bora. Not so neither. But know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, + the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero. She leans me + out at her mistress' chamber window, bids me a thousand times + good night--I tell this tale vilely; I should first tell thee how + the Prince, Claudio and my master, planted and placed and + possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this + amiable encounter. + Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero? + Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio; but the devil my + master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which + first possess'd them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive + them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander + that Don John had made, away went Claudio enrag'd; swore he would + meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and + there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw + o'ernight and send her home again without a husband. + 2. Watch. We charge you in the Prince's name stand! + 1. Watch. Call up the right Master Constable. We have here + recover'd the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known + in the commonwealth. + 2. Watch. And one Deformed is one of them. I know him; 'a wears a + lock. + Con. Masters, masters-- + 1. Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. + Con. Masters-- + 2. Watch. Never speak, we charge you. Let us obey you to go with + us. + Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of + these men's bills. + Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +A Room in Leonato's house. + +Enter Hero, and Margaret and Ursula. + + Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice and desire her to rise. + Urs. I will, lady. + Hero. And bid her come hither. + Urs. Well. [Exit.] + Marg. Troth, I think your other rebato were better. + Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. + Marg. By my troth, 's not so good, and I warrant your cousin will + say so. + Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art another. I'll wear none but + this. + Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a + thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, i' faith. + I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so. + Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. + Marg. By my troth, 's but a nightgown in respect of yours-- + cloth-o'-gold and cuts, and lac'd with silver, set with pearls + down sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts, round underborne with + a blush tinsel. But for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent + fashion, yours is worth ten on't. + Hero. God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is exceeding heavy. + Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. + Hero. Fie upon thee! art not ashamed? + Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage + honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without + marriage? I think you would have me say, 'saving your reverence, + a husband.' An bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll + offend nobody. Is there any harm in 'the heavier for a husband'? + None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife. + Otherwise 'tis light, and not heavy. Ask my Lady Beatrice else. + Here she comes. + + Enter Beatrice. + + Hero. Good morrow, coz. + Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. + Hero. Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune? + Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. + Marg. Clap's into 'Light o' love.' That goes without a burden. Do + you sing it, and I'll dance it. + Beat. Yea, 'Light o' love' with your heels! then, if your husband + have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barnes. + Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. + Beat. 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; 'tis time you were ready. + By my troth, I am exceeding ill. Hey-ho! + Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? + Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. + Marg. Well, an you be not turn'd Turk, there's no more sailing by + the star. + Beat. What means the fool, trow? + Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire! + Hero. These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent + perfume. + Beat. I am stuff'd, cousin; I cannot smell. + Marg. A maid, and stuff'd! There's goodly catching of cold. + Beat. O, God help me! God help me! How long have you profess'd + apprehension? + Marg. Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely? + Beat. It is not seen enough. You should wear it in your cap. By my + troth, I am sick. + Marg. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus and lay it + to your heart. It is the only thing for a qualm. + Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. + Beat. Benedictus? why benedictus? You have some moral in this + 'benedictus.' + Marg. Moral? No, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant + plain holy thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are + in love. Nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I + list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor indeed I cannot + think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in + love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love. + Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man. He + swore he would never marry; and yet now in despite of his heart + he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted I + know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do. + Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? + Marg. Not a false gallop. + + Enter Ursula. + + Urs. Madam, withdraw. The Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don + John, and all the gallants of the town are come to fetch you to + church. + Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. + [Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene V. +The hall in Leonato's house. + +Enter Leonato and the Constable [Dogberry] and the Headborough [verges]. + + Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour? + Dog. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns + you nearly. + Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me. + Dog. Marry, this it is, sir. + Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. + Leon. What is it, my good friends? + Dog. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter--an old + man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would + desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his + brows. + Verg. Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an + old man and no honester than I. + Dog. Comparisons are odorous. Palabras, neighbour Verges. + Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. + Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's + officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a + king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. + Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ah? + Dog. Yea, in 'twere a thousand pound more than 'tis; for I hear as + good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and + though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it. + Verg. And so am I. + Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. + Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's + presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in + Messina. + Dog. A good old man, sir; he will be talking. As they say, 'When + the age is in, the wit is out.' God help us! it is a world to + see! Well said, i' faith, neighbour Verges. Well, God's a good + man. An two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An honest + soul, i' faith, sir, by my troth he is, as ever broke bread; but + God is to be worshipp'd; all men are not alike, alas, good + neighbour! + Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. + Dog. Gifts that God gives. + Leon. I must leave you. + Dog. One word, sir. Our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two + aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined + before your worship. + Leon. Take their examination yourself and bring it me. I am now in + great haste, as it may appear unto you. + Dog. It shall be suffigance. + Leon. Drink some wine ere you go. Fare you well. + + [Enter a Messenger.] + + Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to her + husband. + Leon. I'll wait upon them. I am ready. + [Exeunt Leonato and Messenger.] + Dog. Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacoal; bid him bring + his pen and inkhorn to the jail. We are now to examination these + men. + Verg. And we must do it wisely. + Dog. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you. Here's that shall + drive some of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to + set down our excommunication, and meet me at the jail. + [Exeunt.] + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. Scene I. +A church. + +Enter Don Pedro, [John the] Bastard, Leonato, Friar [Francis], Claudio, +Benedick, Hero, Beatrice, [and Attendants]. + + Leon. Come, Friar Francis, be brief. Only to the plain form of + marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties + afterwards. + Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady? + Claud. No. + Leon. To be married to her. Friar, you come to marry her. + Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to this count? + Hero. I do. + Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should + not be conjoined, I charge you on your souls to utter it. + Claud. Know you any, Hero? + Hero. None, my lord. + Friar. Know you any, Count? + Leon. I dare make his answer--none. + Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not + knowing what they do! + Bene. How now? interjections? Why then, some be of laughing, as, + ah, ha, he! + Claud. Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave: + Will you with free and unconstrained soul + Give me this maid your daughter? + Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me. + Claud. And what have I to give you back whose worth + May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? + Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. + Claud. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. + There, Leonato, take her back again. + Give not this rotten orange to your friend. + She's but the sign and semblance of her honour. + Behold how like a maid she blushes here! + O, what authority and show of truth + Can cunning sin cover itself withal! + Comes not that blood as modest evidence + To witness simple virtue, Would you not swear, + All you that see her, that she were a maid + By these exterior shows? But she is none: + She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; + Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. + Leon. What do you mean, my lord? + Claud. Not to be married, + Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. + Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, + Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth + And made defeat of her virginity-- + Claud. I know what you would say. If I have known her, + You will say she did embrace me as a husband, + And so extenuate the forehand sin. + No, Leonato, + I never tempted her with word too large, + But, as a brother to his sister, show'd + Bashful sincerity and comely love. + Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? + Claud. Out on the seeming! I will write against it. + You seem to me as Dian in her orb, + As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; + But you are more intemperate in your blood + Than Venus, or those pamp'red animals + That rage in savage sensuality. + Hero. Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide? + Leon. Sweet Prince, why speak not you? + Pedro. What should I speak? + I stand dishonour'd that have gone about + To link my dear friend to a common stale. + Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? + John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. + Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. + Hero. 'True!' O God! + Claud. Leonato, stand I here? + Is this the Prince, Is this the Prince's brother? + Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own? + Leon. All this is so; but what of this, my lord? + Claud. Let me but move one question to your daughter, + And by that fatherly and kindly power + That you have in her, bid her answer truly. + Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. + Hero. O, God defend me! How am I beset! + What kind of catechising call you this? + Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. + Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name + With any just reproach? + Claud. Marry, that can Hero! + Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. + What man was he talk'd with you yesternight, + Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? + Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. + Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. + Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato, + I am sorry you must hear. Upon my honour, + Myself, my brother, and this grieved Count + Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night + Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window, + Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, + Confess'd the vile encounters they have had + A thousand times in secret. + John. Fie, fie! they are not to be nam'd, my lord-- + Not to be spoke of; + There is not chastity, enough in language + Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, + I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. + Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been + If half thy outward graces had been plac'd + About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! + But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! Farewell, + Thou pure impiety and impious purity! + For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, + And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, + To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, + And never shall it more be gracious. + Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? + [Hero swoons.] + Beat. Why, how now, cousin? Wherefore sink you down? + John. Come let us go. These things, come thus to light, + Smother her spirits up. + [Exeunt Don Pedro, Don Juan, and Claudio.] + Bene. How doth the lady? + Beat. Dead, I think. Help, uncle! + Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! + Leon. O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand! + Death is the fairest cover for her shame + That may be wish'd for. + Beat. How now, cousin Hero? + Friar. Have comfort, lady. + Leon. Dost thou look up? + Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not? + Leon. Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing + Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny + The story that is printed in her blood? + Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes; + For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, + Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, + Myself would on the rearward of reproaches + Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one? + Child I for that at frugal nature's frame? + O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? + Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? + Why had I not with charitable hand + Took up a beggar's issue at my gates, + Who smirched thus and mir'd with infamy, + I might have said, 'No part of it is mine; + This shame derives itself from unknown loins'? + But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, + And mine that I was proud on--mine so much + That I myself was to myself not mine, + Valuing of her--why, she, O, she is fall'n + Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea + Hath drops too few to wash her clean again, + And salt too little which may season give + To her foul tainted flesh! + Bene. Sir, sir, be patient. + For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, + I know not what to say. + Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! + Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? + Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night, + I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow + Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made + Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! + Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie, + Who lov'd her so that, speaking of her foulness, + Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die. + Friar. Hear me a little; + For I have only been silent so long, + And given way unto this course of fortune, + By noting of the lady. I have mark'd + A thousand blushing apparitions + To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames + In angel whiteness beat away those blushes, + And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire + To burn the errors that these princes hold + Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool; + Trust not my reading nor my observation, + Which with experimental seal doth warrant + The tenure of my book; trust not my age, + My reverence, calling, nor divinity, + If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here + Under some biting error. + Leon. Friar, it cannot be. + Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left + Is that she will not add to her damnation + A sin of perjury: she not denies it. + Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse + That which appears in proper nakedness? + Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accus'd of? + Hero. They know that do accuse me; I know none. + If I know more of any man alive + Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, + Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father, + Prove you that any man with me convers'd + At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight + Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, + Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death! + Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes. + Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour; + And if their wisdoms be misled in this, + The practice of it lives in John the bastard, + Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. + Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her, + These hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honour, + The proudest of them shall well hear of it. + Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, + Nor age so eat up my invention, + Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, + Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, + But they shall find awak'd in such a kind + Both strength of limb and policy of mind, + Ability in means, and choice of friends, + To quit me of them throughly. + Friar. Pause awhile + And let my counsel sway you in this case. + Your daughter here the princes left for dead, + Let her awhile be secretly kept in, + And publish it that she is dead indeed; + Maintain a mourning ostentation, + And on your family's old monument + Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites + That appertain unto a burial. + Leon. What shall become of this? What will this do? + Friar. Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf + Change slander to remorse. That is some good. + But not for that dream I on this strange course, + But on this travail look for greater birth. + She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, + Upon the instant that she was accus'd, + Shall be lamented, pitied, and excus'd + Of every hearer; for it so falls out + That what we have we prize not to the worth + Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, + Why, then we rack the value, then we find + The virtue that possession would not show us + Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio. + When he shall hear she died upon his words, + Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep + Into his study of imagination, + And every lovely organ of her life + Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, + More moving, delicate, and full of life, + Into the eye and prospect of his soul + Than when she liv'd indeed. Then shall he mourn + (If ever love had interest in his liver) + And wish he had not so accused her-- + No, though be thought his accusation true. + Let this be so, and doubt not but success + Will fashion the event in better shape + Than I can lay it down in likelihood. + But if all aim but this be levell'd false, + The supposition of the lady's death + Will quench the wonder of her infamy. + And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, + As best befits her wounded reputation, + In some reclusive and religious life, + Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. + Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you; + And though you know my inwardness and love + Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, + Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this + As secretly and justly as your soul + Should with your body. + Leon. Being that I flow in grief, + The smallest twine may lead me. + Friar. 'Tis well consented. Presently away; + For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. + Come, lady, die to live. This wedding day + Perhaps is but prolong'd. Have patience and endure. + Exeunt [all but Benedick and Beatrice]. + Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? + Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. + Bene. I will not desire that. + Beat. You have no reason. I do it freely. + Bene. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. + Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right + her! + Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship? + Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. + Bene. May a man do it? + Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. + Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that + strange? + Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for + me to say I loved nothing so well as you. But believe me not; and + yet I lie not. I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry + for my cousin. + Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. + Beat. Do not swear, and eat it. + Bene. I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat + it that says I love not you. + Beat. Will you not eat your word? + Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love + thee. + Beat. Why then, God forgive me! + Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice? + Beat. You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was about to protest I + loved you. + Bene. And do it with all thy heart. + Beat. I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to + protest. + Bene. Come, bid me do anything for thee. + Beat. Kill Claudio. + Bene. Ha! not for the wide world! + Beat. You kill me to deny it. Farewell. + Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. + Beat. I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. Nay, I + pray you let me go. + Bene. Beatrice-- + Beat. In faith, I will go. + Bene. We'll be friends first. + Beat. You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine + enemy. + Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? + Beat. Is 'a not approved in the height a villain, that hath + slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a + man! What? bear her in hand until they come to take hands, and + then with public accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated + rancour--O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the + market place. + Bene. Hear me, Beatrice! + Beat. Talk with a man out at a window!-a proper saying! + Bene. Nay but Beatrice-- + Beat. Sweet Hero! she is wrong'd, she is sland'red, she is undone. + Bene. Beat-- + Beat. Princes and Counties! Surely a princely testimony, a goodly + count, Count Comfect, a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a man + for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my + sake! But manhood is melted into cursies, valour into compliment, + and men are only turn'd into tongue, and trim ones too. He is now + as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie,and swears it. I + cannot be a man with wishing; therefore I will die a woman with + grieving. + Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. + Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. + Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero? + Beat. Yea, as sure is I have a thought or a soul. + Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge him. I will kiss your + hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a + dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go comfort your + cousin. I must say she is dead-and so farewell. + [Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene II. +A prison. + +Enter the Constables [Dogberry and Verges] and the Sexton, in gowns, +[and the Watch, with Conrade and] Borachio. + + Dog. Is our whole dissembly appear'd? + Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. + Sex. Which be the malefactors? + Dog. Marry, that am I and my partner. + Verg. Nay, that's certain. We have the exhibition to examine. + Sex. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them + come before Master Constable. + Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your name, + friend? + Bor. Borachio. + Dog. Pray write down Borachio. Yours, sirrah? + Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. + Dog. Write down Master Gentleman Conrade. Masters, do you serve + God? + Both. Yea, sir, we hope. + Dog. Write down that they hope they serve God; and write God first, + for God defend but God should go before such villains! Masters, + it is proved already that you are little better than false + knaves, and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer + you for yourselves? + Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none. + Dog. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go about + with him. Come you hither, sirrah. A word in your ear. Sir, I say + to you, it is thought you are false knaves. + Bora. Sir, I say to you we are none. + Dog. Well, stand aside. Fore God, they are both in a tale. + Have you writ down that they are none? + Sex. Master Constable, you go not the way to examine. You must call + forth the watch that are their accusers. + Dog. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the watch come forth. + Masters, I charge you in the Prince's name accuse these men. + 1. Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John the Prince's brother + was a villain. + Dog. Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, + to call a prince's brother villain. + Bora. Master Constable-- + Dog. Pray thee, fellow, peace. I do not like thy look, I promise + thee. + Sex. What heard you him say else? + 2. Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don John + for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. + Dog. Flat burglary as ever was committed. + Verg. Yea, by th' mass, that it is. + Sex. What else, fellow? + 1. Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to + disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her. + Dog. O villain! thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption + for this. + Sex. What else? + Watchmen. This is all. + Sex. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is + this morning secretly stol'n away. Hero was in this manner + accus'd, in this manner refus'd, and upon the grief of this + suddenly died. Master Constable, let these men be bound and + brought to Leonato's. I will go before and show him their + examination. [Exit.] + Dog. Come, let them be opinion'd. + Verg. Let them be in the hands-- + Con. Off, coxcomb! + Dog. God's my life, where's the sexton? Let him write down the + Prince's officer coxcomb. Come, bind them.--Thou naughty varlet! + Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. + Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my + years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, + remember that I am an ass. Though it be not written down, yet + forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of + piety, as shall be prov'd upon thee by good witness. I am a wise + fellow; and which is more, an officer; and which is more, a + householder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any + is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to! and a rich + fellow enough, go to! and a fellow that hath had losses; and one + that hath two gowns and everything handsome about him. Bring him + away. O that I had been writ down an ass! + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. Scene I. +The street, near Leonato's house. + +Enter Leonato and his brother [ Antonio]. + + Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself, + And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief + Against yourself. + Leon. I pray thee cease thy counsel, + Which falls into mine ears as profitless + As water in a sieve. Give not me counsel, + Nor let no comforter delight mine ear + But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. + Bring me a father that so lov'd his child, + Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, + And bid him speak to me of patience. + Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, + And let it answer every strain for strain, + As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, + In every lineament, branch, shape, and form. + If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, + Bid sorrow wag, cry 'hem' when he should groan, + Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk + With candle-wasters--bring him yet to me, + And I of him will gather patience. + But there is no such man; for, brother, men + Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief + Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, + Their counsel turns to passion, which before + Would give preceptial medicine to rage, + Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, + Charm ache with air and agony with words. + No, no! 'Tis all men's office to speak patience + To those that wring under the load of sorrow, + But no man's virtue nor sufficiency + To be so moral when he shall endure + The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel. + My griefs cry louder than advertisement. + Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ. + Leon. I pray thee peace. I will be flesh and blood; + For there was never yet philosopher + That could endure the toothache patiently, + However they have writ the style of gods + And made a push at chance and sufferance. + Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself. + Make those that do offend you suffer too. + Leon. There thou speak'st reason. Nay, I will do so. + My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; + And that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince, + And all of them that thus dishonour her. + + Enter Don Pedro and Claudio. + + Ant. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily. + Pedro. Good den, Good den. + Claud. Good day to both of you. + Leon. Hear you, my lords! + Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. + Leon. Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord. + Are you so hasty now? Well, all is one. + Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. + Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, + Some of us would lie low. + Claud. Who wrongs him? + Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou! + Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword; + I fear thee not. + Claud. Mary, beshrew my hand + If it should give your age such cause of fear. + In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. + Leon. Tush, tush, man! never fleer and jest at me + I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, + As under privilege of age to brag + What I have done being young, or what would do, + Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, + Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me + That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by + And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, + Do challenge thee to trial of a man. + I say thou hast belied mine innocent child; + Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, + And she lied buried with her ancestors- + O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, + Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villany! + Claud. My villany? + Leon. Thine, Claudio; thine I say. + Pedro. You say not right, old man + Leon. My lord, my lord, + I'll prove it on his body if he dare, + Despite his nice fence and his active practice, + His May of youth and bloom of lustihood. + Claud. Away! I will not have to do with you. + Leon. Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill'd my child. + If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. + And. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed + But that's no matter; let him kill one first. + Win me and wear me! Let him answer me. + Come, follow me, boy,. Come, sir boy, come follow me. + Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence! + Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. + Leon. Brother-- + Ant. Content yourself. God knows I lov'd my niece, + And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, + That dare as well answer a man indeed + As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. + Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops! + Leon. Brother Anthony-- + Ant. Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea, + And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple, + Scambling, outfacing, fashion-monging boys, + That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, + Go anticly, show outward hideousness, + And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words, + How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; + And this is all. + Leon. But, brother Anthony-- + Ant. Come, 'tis no matter. + Do not you meddle; let me deal in this. + Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. + My heart is sorry for your daughter's death; + But, on my honour, she was charg'd with nothing + But what was true, and very full of proof. + Leon. My lord, my lord-- + Pedro. I will not hear you. + Leon. No? Come, brother, away!--I will be heard. + Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it. + Exeunt ambo. + + Enter Benedick. + + Pedro. See, see! Here comes the man we went to seek. + Claud. Now, signior, what news? + Bene. Good day, my lord. + Pedro. Welcome, signior. You are almost come to part almost a fray. + Claud. We had lik'd to have had our two noses snapp'd off with two + old men without teeth. + Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What think'st thou? Had we fought, + I doubt we should have been too young for them. + Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek + you both. + Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof + melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy + wit? + Bene. It is in my scabbard. Shall I draw it? + Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? + Claud. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their + wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrel--draw to + pleasure us. + Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick or + angry? + Claud. What, courage, man! What though care kill'd a cat, thou hast + mettle enough in thee to kill care. + Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career an you charge it + against me. I pray you choose another subject. + Claud. Nay then, give him another staff; this last was broke cross. + Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more. I think he be angry + indeed. + Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. + Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear? + Claud. God bless me from a challenge! + Bene. [aside to Claudio] You are a villain. I jest not; I will make + it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do + me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have kill'd a + sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear + from you. + Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. + Pedro. What, a feast, a feast? + Claud. I' faith, I thank him, he hath bid me to a calve's head and + a capon, the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my + knife's naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too? + Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. + Pedro. I'll tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day. I + said thou hadst a fine wit: 'True,' said she, 'a fine little + one.' 'No,' said I, 'a great wit.' 'Right,' says she, 'a great + gross one.' 'Nay,' said I, 'a good wit.' 'Just,' said she, 'it + hurts nobody.' 'Nay,' said I, 'the gentleman is wise.' 'Certain,' + said she, a wise gentleman.' 'Nay,' said I, 'he hath the + tongues.' 'That I believe' said she, 'for he swore a thing to me + on Monday night which he forswore on Tuesday morning. There's a + double tongue; there's two tongues.' Thus did she an hour + together transshape thy particular virtues. Yet at last she + concluded with a sigh, thou wast the proper'st man in Italy. + Claud. For the which she wept heartily and said she cared not. + Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an if she did not + hate him deadly, she would love him dearly. The old man's + daughter told us all. + Claud. All, all! and moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the + garden. + Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the + sensible Benedick's head? + Claud. Yea, and text underneath, 'Here dwells Benedick, the married + man'? + Bene. Fare you well, boy; you know my mind. I will leave you now to + your gossiplike humour. You break jests as braggards do their + blades, which God be thanked hurt not. My lord, for your many + courtesies I thank you. I must discontinue your company. Your + brother the bastard is fled from Messina. You have among you + kill'd a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he + and I shall meet; and till then peace be with him. + [Exit.] + Pedro. He is in earnest. + Claud. In most profound earnest; and, I'll warrant you, for the + love of Beatrice. + Pedro. And hath challeng'd thee. + Claud. Most sincerely. + Pedro. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and + hose and leaves off his wit! + + Enter Constables [Dogberry and Verges, with the Watch, leading] + Conrade and Borachio. + + Claud. He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a doctor to + such a man. + Pedro. But, soft you, let me be! Pluck up, my heart, and be sad! + Did he not say my brother was fled? + Dog. Come you, sir. If justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er + weigh more reasons in her balance. Nay, an you be a cursing + hypocrite once, you must be look'd to. + Pedro. How now? two of my brother's men bound? Borachio one. + Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord. + Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done? + Dog. Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they + have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and + lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified + unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves. + Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I ask thee + what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why they are committed; + and to conclude, what you lay to their charge. + Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and by my troth + there's one meaning well suited. + Pedro. Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to + your answer? This learned constable is too cunning to be + understood. What's your offence? + Bora. Sweet Prince, let me go no farther to mine answer. Do you + hear me, and let this Count kill me. I have deceived even your + very eyes. What your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow + fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me + confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incensed me to + slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard and + saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments; how you disgrac'd her + when you should marry her. My villany they have upon record, + which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my + shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master's false + accusation; and briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a + villain. + Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? + Claud. I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd it. + Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this? + Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. + Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery, + And fled he is upon this villany. + Claud. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appear + In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. + Dog. Come, bring away the plaintiffs. By this time our sexton hath + reformed Signior Leonato of the matter. And, masters, do not + forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an + ass. + Verg. Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too. + + Enter Leonato, his brother [Antonio], and the Sexton. + + Leon. Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes, + That, when I note another man like him, + I may avoid him. Which of these is he? + Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on me. + Leon. Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd + Mine innocent child? + Bora. Yea, even I alone. + Leon. No, not so, villain! thou beliest thyself. + Here stand a pair of honourable men-- + A third is fled--that had a hand in it. + I thank you princes for my daughter's death. + Record it with your high and worthy deeds. + 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. + Claud. I know not how to pray your patience; + Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; + Impose me to what penance your invention + Can lay upon my sin. Yet sinn'd I not + But in mistaking. + Pedro. By my soul, nor I! + And yet, to satisfy this good old man, + I would bend under any heavy weight + That he'll enjoin me to. + Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live- + That were impossible; but I pray you both, + Possess the people in Messina here + How innocent she died; and if your love + Can labour aught in sad invention, + Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, + And sing it to her bones--sing it to-night. + To-morrow morning come you to my house, + And since you could not be my son-in-law, + Be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter, + Almost the copy of my child that's dead, + And she alone is heir to both of us. + Give her the right you should have giv'n her cousin, + And so dies my revenge. + Claud. O noble sir! + Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me. + I do embrace your offer; and dispose + For henceforth of poor Claudio. + Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your coming; + To-night I take my leave. This naughty man + Shall fact to face be brought to Margaret, + Who I believe was pack'd in all this wrong, + Hir'd to it by your brother. + Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; + Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me; + But always hath been just and virtuous + In anything that I do know by her. + Dog. Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this + plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass. I beseech you let + it be rememb'red in his punishment. And also the watch heard them + talk of one Deformed. They say he wears a key in his ear, and a + lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's name, the which he + hath us'd so long and never paid that now men grow hard-hearted + and will lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you examine him upon + that point. + Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. + Dog. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverent youth, + and I praise God for you. + Leon. There's for thy pains. [Gives money.] + Dog. God save the foundation! + Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. + Dog. I leave an arrant knave with your worship, which I beseech + your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. + God keep your worship! I wish your worship well. God restore you + to health! I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry + meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour. + Exeunt [Dogberry and Verges]. + Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. + Ant. Farewell, my lords. We look for you to-morrow. + Pedro. We will not fall. + Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero. + [Exeunt Don Pedro and Claudio.] + Leon. [to the Watch] Bring you these fellows on.--We'll talk with + Margaret, + How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Leonato's orchard. + +Enter Benedick and Margaret [meeting]. + + Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands + by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. + Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? + Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come + over it; for in most comely truth thou deservest it. + Marg. To have no man come over me? Why, shall I always keep below + stairs? + Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth--it catches. + Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit but hurt + not. + Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret: it will not hurt a woman. + And so I pray thee call Beatrice. I give thee the bucklers. + Marg. Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own. + Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a + vice, and they are dangerous weapons for maids. + Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. + Bene. And therefore will come. + Exit Margaret. + [Sings] The god of love, + That sits above + And knows me, and knows me, + How pitiful I deserve-- + + I mean in singing; but in loving Leander the good swimmer, + Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole book full of + these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the + even road of a blank verse--why, they were never so truly turn'd + over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in + rhyme. I have tried. I can find out no rhyme to 'lady' but 'baby' + --an innocent rhyme; for 'scorn,' 'horn'--a hard rhyme; for + 'school', 'fool'--a babbling rhyme: very ominous endings! No, I + was not born under a rhyming planet, nor cannot woo in festival + terms. + + Enter Beatrice. + + Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I call'd thee? + Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. + Bene. O, stay but till then! + Beat. 'Then' is spoken. Fare you well now. And yet, ere I go, let + me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath + pass'd between you and Claudio. + Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee. + Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul + breath, and foul breath is noisome. Therefore I will depart + unkiss'd. + Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so + forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio + undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him + or I will subscribe him a coward. And I pray thee now tell me, + for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? + Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so politic a state of + evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with + them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love + for me? + Bene. Suffer love!--a good epithet. I do suffer love indeed, for I + love thee against my will. + Beat. In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart! If you + spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours, for I will never + love that which my friend hates. + Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. + Beat. It appears not in this confession. There's not one wise man + among twenty, that will praise himself. + Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd in the time of + good neighbours. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb + ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell + rings and the widow weeps. + Beat. And how long is that, think you? + Bene. Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in rheum. + Therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his + conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet + of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for praising + myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy. And now + tell me, how doth your cousin? + Beat. Very ill. + Bene. And how do you? + Beat. Very ill too. + Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I leave you too, for + here comes one in haste. + + Enter Ursula. + + Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder's old coil at home. + It is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accus'd, the Prince + and Claudio mightily abus'd, and Don John is the author of all, + who is fled and gone. Will you come presently? + Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior? + Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried thy + eyes; and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +A churchyard. + +Enter Claudio, Don Pedro, and three or four with tapers, +[followed by Musicians]. + + Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? + Lord. It is, my lord. + Claud. [reads from a scroll] + + Epitaph. + + Done to death by slanderous tongues + Was the Hero that here lies. + Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, + Gives her fame which never dies. + So the life that died with shame + Lives in death with glorious fame. + + Hang thou there upon the tomb, + [Hangs up the scroll.] + Praising her when I am dumb. + Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. + + Song. + + Pardon, goddess of the night, + Those that slew thy virgin knight; + For the which, with songs of woe, + Round about her tomb they go. + Midnight, assist our moan, + Help us to sigh and groan + Heavily, heavily, + Graves, yawn and yield your dead, + Till death be uttered + Heavily, heavily. + + Claud. Now unto thy bones good night! + Yearly will I do this rite. + Pedro. Good morrow, masters. Put your torches out. + The wolves have prey'd, and look, the gentle day, + Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about + Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. + Thanks to you all, and leave us. Fare you well. + Claud. Good morrow, masters. Each his several way. + Pedro. Come, let us hence and put on other weeds, + And then to Leonato's we will go. + Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds + Than this for whom we rend'red up this woe. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV +The hall in Leonato's house. + +Enter Leonato, Benedick, [Beatrice,] Margaret, Ursula, Antonio, +Friar [Francis], Hero. + + Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent? + Leon. So are the Prince and Claudio, who accus'd her + Upon the error that you heard debated. + But Margaret was in some fault for this, + Although against her will, as it appears + In the true course of all the question. + Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. + Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd + To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. + Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, + Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, + And when I send for you, come hither mask'd. + Exeunt Ladies. + The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour + To visit me. You know your office, brother: + You must be father to your brother's daughter, + And give her to young Claudio. + Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. + Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. + Friar. To do what, signior? + Bene. To bind me, or undo me--one of them. + Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, + Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. + Leon. That eye my daughter lent her. 'Tis most true. + Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. + Leon. The sight whereof I think you had from me, + From Claudio, and the Prince; but what's your will? + Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical; + But, for my will, my will is, your good will + May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd + In the state of honourable marriage; + In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. + Leon. My heart is with your liking. + Friar. And my help. + + Enter Don Pedro and Claudio and two or three other. + + Here comes the Prince and Claudio. + Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. + Leon. Good morrow, Prince; good morrow, Claudio. + We here attend you. Are you yet determin'd + To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? + Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. + Leon. Call her forth, brother. Here's the friar ready. + [Exit Antonio.] + Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter + That you have such a February face, + So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness? + Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage bull. + Tush, fear not, man! We'll tip thy horns with gold, + And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, + As once Europa did at lusty Jove + When he would play the noble beast in love. + Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low, + And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow + And got a calf in that same noble feat + Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. + + Enter [Leonato's] brother [Antonio], Hero, Beatrice, + Margaret, Ursula, [the ladies wearing masks]. + + Claud. For this I owe you. Here comes other reckonings. + Which is the lady I must seize upon? + Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. + Claud. Why then, she's mine. Sweet, let me see your face. + Leon. No, that you shall not till you take her hand + Before this friar and swear to marry her. + Claud. Give me your hand before this holy friar. + I am your husband if you like of me. + Hero. And when I liv'd I was your other wife; [Unmasks.] + And when you lov'd you were my other husband. + Claud. Another Hero! + Hero. Nothing certainer. + One Hero died defil'd; but I do live, + And surely as I live, I am a maid. + Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! + Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. + Friar. All this amazement can I qualify, + When, after that the holy rites are ended, + I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death. + Meantime let wonder seem familiar, + And to the chapel let us presently. + Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? + Beat. [unmasks] I answer to that name. What is your will? + Bene. Do not you love me? + Beat. Why, no; no more than reason. + Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio + Have been deceived; for they swore you did. + Beat. Do not you love me? + Bene. Troth, no; no more than reason. + Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula + Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. + Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for me. + Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. + Bene. 'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me? + Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. + Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. + Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her; + For here's a paper written in his hand, + A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, + Fashion'd to Beatrice. + Hero. And here's another, + Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket, + Containing her affection unto Benedick. + Bene. A miracle! Here's our own hands against our hearts. + Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity. + Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon + great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told + you were in a consumption. + Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth. [Kisses her.] + Beat. I'll tell thee what, Prince: a college of wit-crackers cannot + flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or + an epigram? No. If a man will be beaten with brains, 'a shall + wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do purpose to + marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say + against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said + against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. + For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in + that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis'd, and love my + cousin. + Claud. I had well hop'd thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I + might have cudgell'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a + double-dealer, which out of question thou wilt be if my cousin do + not look exceeding narrowly to thee. + Bene. Come, come, we are friends. Let's have a dance ere we are + married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels. + Leon. We'll have dancing afterward. + Bene. First, of my word! Therefore play, music. Prince, thou art + sad. Get thee a wife, get thee a wife! There is no staff more + reverent than one tipp'd with horn. + + Enter Messenger. + + Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, + And brought with armed men back to Messina. + Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow. I'll devise thee brave + punishments for him. Strike up, pipers! + Dance. [Exeunt.] + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1605 + + +THE TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO, MOOR OF VENICE + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + OTHELLO, the Moor, general of the Venetian forces + DESDEMONA, his wife + IAGO, ensign to Othello + EMILIA, his wife, lady-in-waiting to Desdemona + CASSIO, lieutenant to Othello + THE DUKE OF VENICE + BRABANTIO, Venetian Senator, father of Desdemona + GRATIANO, nobleman of Venice, brother of Brabantio + LODOVICO, nobleman of Venice, kinsman of Brabantio + RODERIGO, rejected suitor of Desdemona + BIANCA, mistress of Cassio + MONTANO, a Cypriot official + A Clown in service to Othello + Senators, Sailors, Messengers, Officers, Gentlemen, Musicians, and + Attendants + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: Venice and Cyprus + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Venice. A street. + +Enter Roderigo and Iago. + + RODERIGO. Tush, never tell me! I take it much unkindly + That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse + As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. + IAGO. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me. + If ever I did dream of such a matter, + Abhor me. + RODERIGO. Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. + IAGO. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, + In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, + Off-capp'd to him; and, by the faith of man, + I know my price, I am worth no worse a place. + But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, + Evades them, with a bumbast circumstance + Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war, + And, in conclusion, + Nonsuits my mediators; for, "Certes," says he, + "I have already chose my officer." + And what was he? + Forsooth, a great arithmetician, + One Michael Cassio, a Florentine + (A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife) + That never set a squadron in the field, + Nor the division of a battle knows + More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, + Wherein the toged consuls can propose + As masterly as he. Mere prattle without practice + Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election; + And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof + At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds + Christian and heathen, must be belee'd and calm'd + By debitor and creditor. This counter-caster, + He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, + And I- God bless the mark!- his Moorship's ancient. + RODERIGO. By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. + IAGO. Why, there's no remedy. 'Tis the curse of service, + Preferment goes by letter and affection, + And not by old gradation, where each second + Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself + Whether I in any just term am affined + To love the Moor. + RODERIGO. I would not follow him then. + IAGO. O, sir, content you. + I follow him to serve my turn upon him: + We cannot all be masters, nor all masters + Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark + Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, + That doting on his own obsequious bondage + Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, + For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd. + Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are + Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, + Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, + And throwing but shows of service on their lords + Do well thrive by them; and when they have lined their coats + Do themselves homage. These fellows have some soul, + And such a one do I profess myself. + For, sir, + It is as sure as you are Roderigo, + Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago. + In following him, I follow but myself; + Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, + But seeming so, for my peculiar end. + For when my outward action doth demonstrate + The native act and figure of my heart + In complement extern, 'tis not long after + But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve + For daws to peck at: I am not what I am. + RODERIGO. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, + If he can carry't thus! + IAGO. Call up her father, + Rouse him, make after him, poison his delight, + Proclaim him in the streets, incense her kinsmen, + And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, + Plague him with flies. Though that his joy be joy, + Yet throw such changes of vexation on't + As it may lose some color. + RODERIGO. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud. + IAGO. Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell + As when, by night and negligence, the fire + Is spied in populous cities. + RODERIGO. What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho! + IAGO. Awake! What, ho, Brabantio! Thieves! Thieves! Thieves! + Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags! + Thieves! Thieves! + + Brabantio appears above, at a window. + + BRABANTIO. What is the reason of this terrible summons? + What is the matter there? + RODERIGO. Signior, is all your family within? + IAGO. Are your doors lock'd? + BRABANTIO. Why? Wherefore ask you this? + IAGO. 'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd! For shame, put on your gown; + Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; + Even now, now, very now, an old black ram + Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise! + Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, + Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you. + Arise, I say! + BRABANTIO. What, have you lost your wits? + RODERIGO. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? + BRABANTIO. Not I. What are you? + RODERIGO. My name is Roderigo. + BRABANTIO. The worser welcome. + I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors. + In honest plainness thou hast heard me say + My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness, + Being full of supper and distempering draughts, + Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come + To start my quiet. + RODERIGO. Sir, sir, sir- + BRABANTIO. But thou must needs be sure + My spirit and my place have in them power + To make this bitter to thee. + RODERIGO. Patience, good sir. + BRABANTIO. What tell'st thou me of robbing? This is Venice; + My house is not a grange. + RODERIGO. Most grave Brabantio, + In simple and pure soul I come to you. + IAGO. 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, + if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you + think we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a + Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have + coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans. + BRABANTIO. What profane wretch art thou? + IAGO. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the + Moor are now making the beast with two backs. + BRABANTIO. Thou are a villain. + IAGO. You are- a senator. + BRABANTIO. This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo. + RODERIGO. Sir, I will answer anything. But, I beseech you, + If't be your pleasure and most wise consent, + As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter, + At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night, + Transported with no worse nor better guard + But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, + To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor- + If this be known to you, and your allowance, + We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; + But if you know not this, my manners tell me + We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe + That, from the sense of all civility, + I thus would play and trifle with your reverence. + Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, + I say again, hath made a gross revolt, + Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes + In an extravagant and wheeling stranger + Of here and everywhere. Straight satisfy yourself: + If she be in her chamber or your house, + Let loose on me the justice of the state + For thus deluding you. + BRABANTIO. Strike on the tinder, ho! + Give me a taper! Call up all my people! + This accident is not unlike my dream; + Belief of it oppresses me already. + Light, I say, light! Exit above. + IAGO. Farewell, for I must leave you. + It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, + To be produced- as, if I stay, I shall- + Against the Moor; for I do know, the state, + However this may gall him with some check, + Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd + With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, + Which even now stands in act, that, for their souls, + Another of his fathom they have none + To lead their business; in which regard, + Though I do hate him as I do hell pains, + Yet for necessity of present life, + I must show out a flag and sign of love, + Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him, + Lead to the Sagittary the raised search, + And there will I be with him. So farewell. Exit. + + Enter, below, Brabantio, in his nightgown, and + Servants with torches. + + BRABANTIO. It is too true an evil: gone she is, + And what's to come of my despised time + Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, + Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl! + With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a father! + How didst thou know 'twas she? O, she deceives me + Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers. + Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you? + RODERIGO. Truly, I think they are. + BRABANTIO. O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood! + Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds + By what you see them act. Is there not charms + By which the property of youth and maidhood + May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo, + Of some such thing? + RODERIGO. Yes, sir, I have indeed. + BRABANTIO. Call up my brother. O, would you had had her! + Some one way, some another. Do you know + Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? + RODERIGO. I think I can discover him, if you please + To get good guard and go along with me. + BRABANTIO. Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call; + I may command at most. Get weapons, ho! + And raise some special officers of night. + On, good Roderigo, I'll deserve your pains. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +Another street. + +Enter Othello, Iago, and Attendants with torches. + + IAGO. Though in the trade of war I have slain men, + Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience + To do no contrived murther. I lack iniquity + Sometimes to do me service. Nine or ten times + I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs. + OTHELLO. 'Tis better as it is. + IAGO. Nay, but he prated + And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms + Against your honor + That, with the little godliness I have, + I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir, + Are you fast married? Be assured of this, + That the magnifico is much beloved, + And hath in his effect a voice potential + As double as the Duke's. He will divorce you, + Or put upon you what restraint and grievance + The law, with all his might to enforce it on, + Will give him cable. + OTHELLO. Let him do his spite. + My services, which I have done the signiory, + Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know- + Which, when I know that boasting is an honor, + I shall promulgate- I fetch my life and being + From men of royal siege, and my demerits + May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune + As this that I have reach'd. For know, Iago, + But that I love the gentle Desdemona, + I would not my unhoused free condition + Put into circumscription and confine + For the sea's worth. But, look! What lights come yond? + IAGO. Those are the raised father and his friends. + You were best go in. + OTHELLO. Not I; I must be found. + My parts, my title, and my perfect soul + Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? + IAGO. By Janus, I think no. + + Enter Cassio and certain Officers with torches. + + OTHELLO. The servants of the Duke? And my lieutenant? + The goodness of the night upon you, friends! + What is the news? + CASSIO. The Duke does greet you, general, + And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, + Even on the instant. + OTHELLO. What is the matter, think you? + CASSIO. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine; + It is a business of some heat. The galleys + Have sent a dozen sequent messengers + This very night at one another's heels; + And many of the consuls, raised and met, + Are at the Duke's already. You have been hotly call'd for, + When, being not at your lodging to be found, + The Senate hath sent about three several quests + To search you out. + OTHELLO. 'Tis well I am found by you. + I will but spend a word here in the house + And go with you. Exit. + CASSIO. Ancient, what makes he here? + IAGO. Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land carack; + If it prove lawful prize, he's made forever. + CASSIO. I do not understand. + IAGO. He's married. + CASSIO. To who? + + Re-enter Othello. + + IAGO. Marry, to- Come, captain, will you go? + OTHELLO. Have with you. + CASSIO. Here comes another troop to seek for you. + IAGO. It is Brabantio. General, be advised, + He comes to bad intent. + + Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers with torches + and weapons. + + OTHELLO. Holla! Stand there! + RODERIGO. Signior, it is the Moor. + BRABANTIO. Down with him, thief! + They draw on both sides. + IAGO. You, Roderigo! Come, sir, I am for you. + OTHELLO. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. + Good signior, you shall more command with years + Than with your weapons. + BRABANTIO. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter? + Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her, + For I'll refer me to all things of sense, + If she in chains of magic were not bound, + Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy, + So opposite to marriage that she shunn'd + The wealthy, curled darlings of our nation, + Would ever have, to incur a general mock, + Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom + Of such a thing as thou- to fear, not to delight. + Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense + That thou hast practiced on her with foul charms, + Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals + That weaken motion. I'll have't disputed on; + 'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking. + I therefore apprehend and do attach thee + For an abuser of the world, a practicer + Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. + Lay hold upon him. If he do resist, + Subdue him at his peril. + OTHELLO. Hold your hands, + Both you of my inclining and the rest. + Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it + Without a prompter. Where will you that I go + To answer this your charge? + BRABANTIO. To prison, till fit time + Of law and course of direct session + Call thee to answer. + OTHELLO. What if I do obey? + How may the Duke be therewith satisfied, + Whose messengers are here about my side, + Upon some present business of the state + To bring me to him? + FIRST OFFICER. 'Tis true, most worthy signior; + The Duke's in council, and your noble self, + I am sure, is sent for. + BRABANTIO. How? The Duke in council? + In this time of the night? Bring him away; + Mine's not an idle cause. The Duke himself, + Or any of my brothers of the state, + Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own; + For if such actions may have passage free, + Bond slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +A council chamber. The Duke and Senators sitting at a table; +Officers attending. + + DUKE. There is no composition in these news + That gives them credit. + FIRST SENATOR. Indeed they are disproportion'd; + My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. + DUKE. And mine, a hundred and forty. + SECOND SENATOR. And mine, two hundred. + But though they jump not on a just account- + As in these cases, where the aim reports, + 'Tis oft with difference- yet do they all confirm + A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. + DUKE. Nay, it is possible enough to judgement. + I do not so secure me in the error, + But the main article I do approve + In fearful sense. + SAILOR. [Within.] What, ho! What, ho! What, ho! + FIRST OFFICER. A messenger from the galleys. + + Enter Sailor. + + DUKE. Now, what's the business? + SAILOR. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes, + So was I bid report here to the state + By Signior Angelo. + DUKE. How say you by this change? + FIRST SENATOR. This cannot be, + By no assay of reason; 'tis a pageant + To keep us in false gaze. When we consider + The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, + And let ourselves again but understand + That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, + So may he with more facile question bear it, + For that it stands not in such warlike brace, + But altogether lacks the abilities + That Rhodes is dress'd in. If we make thought of this, + We must not think the Turk is so unskillful + To leave that latest which concerns him first, + Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, + To wake and wage a danger profitless. + DUKE. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes. + FIRST OFFICER. Here is more news. + + Enter a Messenger. + + MESSENGER. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, + Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, + Have there injointed them with an after fleet. + FIRST SENATOR. Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess? + MESSENGER. Of thirty sail; and now they do re-stem + Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance + Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, + Your trusty and most valiant servitor, + With his free duty recommends you thus, + And prays you to believe him. + DUKE. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus. + Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town? + FIRST SENATOR. He's now in Florence. + DUKE. Write from us to him, post-post-haste dispatch. + FIRST SENATOR. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor. + + Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers. + + DUKE. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you + Against the general enemy Ottoman. + [To Brabantio.] I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior; + We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight. + BRABANTIO. So did I yours. Good your Grace, pardon me: + Neither my place nor aught I heard of business + Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care + Take hold on me; for my particular grief + Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature + That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, + And it is still itself. + DUKE. Why, what's the matter? + BRABANTIO. My daughter! O, my daughter! + ALL. Dead? + BRABANTIO. Ay, to me. + She is abused, stol'n from me and corrupted + By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; + For nature so preposterously to err, + Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, + Sans witchcraft could not. + DUKE. Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding + Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself + And you of her, the bloody book of law + You shall yourself read in the bitter letter + After your own sense, yea, though our proper son + Stood in your action. + BRABANTIO. Humbly I thank your Grace. + Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems, + Your special mandate for the state affairs + Hath hither brought. + ALL. We are very sorry for't. + DUKE. [To Othello.] What in your own part can you say to this? + BRABANTIO. Nothing, but this is so. + OTHELLO. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, + My very noble and approved good masters, + That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, + It is most true; true, I have married her; + The very head and front of my offending + Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, + And little blest with the soft phrase of peace; + For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, + Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used + Their dearest action in the tented field, + And little of this great world can I speak, + More than pertains to feats of broil and battle; + And therefore little shall I grace my cause + In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, + I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver + Of my whole course of love: what drugs, what charms, + What conjuration, and what mighty magic- + For such proceeding I am charged withal- + I won his daughter. + BRABANTIO. A maiden never bold, + Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion + Blush'd at herself; and she- in spite of nature, + Of years, of country, credit, everything- + To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on! + It is judgement maim'd and most imperfect, + That will confess perfection so could err + Against all rules of nature, and must be driven + To find out practices of cunning hell + Why this should be. I therefore vouch again + That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood, + Or with some dram conjured to this effect, + He wrought upon her. + DUKE. To vouch this is no proof, + Without more certain and more overt test + Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods + Of modern seeming do prefer against him. + FIRST SENATOR. But, Othello, speak. + Did you by indirect and forced courses + Subdue and poison this young maid's affections? + Or came it by request, and such fair question + As soul to soul affordeth? + OTHELLO. I do beseech you, + Send for the lady to the Sagittary, + And let her speak of me before her father. + If you do find me foul in her report, + The trust, the office I do hold of you, + Not only take away, but let your sentence + Even fall upon my life. + DUKE. Fetch Desdemona hither. + OTHELLO. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the place. + Exeunt Iago and Attendants. + And till she come, as truly as to heaven + I do confess the vices of my blood, + So justly to your grave ears I'll present + How I did thrive in this fair lady's love + And she in mine. + DUKE. Say it, Othello. + OTHELLO. Her father loved me, oft invited me, + Still question'd me the story of my life + From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, + That I have pass'd. + I ran it through, even from my boyish days + To the very moment that he bade me tell it: + Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, + Of moving accidents by flood and field, + Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach, + Of being taken by the insolent foe + And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence + And portance in my travels' history; + Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, + Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, + It was my hint to speak- such was the process- + And of the Cannibals that each other eat, + The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads + Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear + Would Desdemona seriously incline; + But still the house affairs would draw her thence, + Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, + She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear + Devour up my discourse; which I observing, + Took once a pliant hour, and found good means + To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart + That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, + Whereof by parcels she had something heard, + But not intentively. I did consent, + And often did beguile her of her tears + When I did speak of some distressful stroke + That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, + She gave me for my pains a world of sighs; + She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; + 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful. + She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd + That heaven had made her such a man; she thank'd me, + And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, + I should but teach him how to tell my story, + And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: + She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, + And I loved her that she did pity them. + This only is the witchcraft I have used. + Here comes the lady; let her witness it. + + Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants. + + DUKE. I think this tale would win my daughter too. + Good Brabantio, + Take up this mangled matter at the best: + Men do their broken weapons rather use + Than their bare hands. + BRABANTIO. I pray you, hear her speak. + If she confess that she was half the wooer, + Destruction on my head, if my bad blame + Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress. + Do you perceive in all this noble company + Where most you owe obedience? + DESDEMONA. My noble father, + I do perceive here a divided duty. + To you I am bound for life and education; + My life and education both do learn me + How to respect you; you are the lord of duty, + I am hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband, + And so much duty as my mother show'd + To you, preferring you before her father, + So much I challenge that I may profess + Due to the Moor, my lord. + BRABANTIO. God be with you! I have done. + Please it your Grace, on to the state affairs; + I had rather to adopt a child than get it. + Come hither, Moor. + I here do give thee that with all my heart + Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart + I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel, + I am glad at soul I have no other child; + For thy escape would teach me tyranny, + To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord. + DUKE. Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence + Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers + Into your favor. + When remedies are past, the griefs are ended + By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. + To mourn a mischief that is past and gone + Is the next way to draw new mischief on. + What cannot be preserved when Fortune takes, + Patience her injury a mockery makes. + The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief; + He robs himself that spends a bootless grief. + BRABANTIO. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile; + We lose it not so long as we can smile. + He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears + But the free comfort which from thence he hears; + But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow + That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow. + These sentences, to sugar or to gall, + Being strong on both sides, are equivocal. + But words are words; I never yet did hear + That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear. + I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state. + DUKE. The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus. + Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to you; and + though we have there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, + yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer + voice on you. You must therefore be content to slubber the gloss + of your new fortunes with this more stubborn and boisterous + expedition. + OTHELLO. The tyrant custom, most grave senators, + Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war + My thrice-driven bed of down. I do agnize + A natural and prompt alacrity + I find in hardness and do undertake + These present wars against the Ottomites. + Most humbly therefore bending to your state, + I crave fit disposition for my wife, + Due reference of place and exhibition, + With such accommodation and besort + As levels with her breeding. + DUKE. If you please, + Be't at her father's. + BRABANTIO. I'll not have it so. + OTHELLO. Nor I. + DESDEMONA. Nor I. I would not there reside + To put my father in impatient thoughts + By being in his eye. Most gracious Duke, + To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear, + And let me find a charter in your voice + To assist my simpleness. + DUKE. What would you, Desdemona? + DESDEMONA. That I did love the Moor to live with him, + My downright violence and storm of fortunes + May trumpet to the world. My heart's subdued + Even to the very quality of my lord. + I saw Othello's visage in his mind, + And to his honors and his valiant parts + Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. + So that, dear lords, if I be left behind, + A moth of peace, and he go to the war, + The rites for which I love him are bereft me, + And I a heavy interim shall support + By his dear absence. Let me go with him. + OTHELLO. Let her have your voices. + Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not + To please the palate of my appetite, + Nor to comply with heat- the young affects + In me defunct- and proper satisfaction; + But to be free and bounteous to her mind. + And heaven defend your good souls, that you think + I will your serious and great business scant + For she is with me. No, when light-wing'd toys + Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dullness + My speculative and officed instruments, + That my disports corrupt and taint my business, + Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, + And all indign and base adversities + Make head against my estimation! + DUKE. Be it as you shall privately determine, + Either for her stay or going. The affair cries haste, + And speed must answer't: you must hence tonight. + DESDEMONA. Tonight, my lord? + DUKE. This night. + OTHELLO. With all my heart. + DUKE. At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again. + Othello, leave some officer behind, + And he shall our commission bring to you, + With such things else of quality and respect + As doth import you. + OTHELLO. So please your Grace, my ancient; + A man he is of honesty and trust. + To his conveyance I assign my wife, + With what else needful your good Grace shall think + To be sent after me. + DUKE. Let it be so. + Good night to everyone. [To Brabantio.] And, noble signior, + If virtue no delighted beauty lack, + Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. + FIRST SENATOR. Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well. + BRABANTIO. Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see; + She has deceived her father, and may thee. + Exeunt Duke, Senators, and Officers. + OTHELLO. My life upon her faith! Honest Iago, + My Desdemona must I leave to thee. + I prithee, let thy wife attend on her, + And bring them after in the best advantage. + Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour + Of love, of worldly matters and direction, + To spend with thee. We must obey the time. + Exeunt Othello and Desdemona. + RODERIGO. Iago! + IAGO. What say'st thou, noble heart? + RODERIGO. What will I do, thinkest thou? + IAGO. Why, go to bed and sleep. + RODERIGO. I will incontinently drown myself. + IAGO. If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. + Why, thou silly gentleman! + RODERIGO. It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then + have we a prescription to die when death is our physician. + IAGO. O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four times + seven years, and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and + an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. Ere I + would say I would drown myself for the love of a guinea hen, I + would change my humanity with a baboon. + RODERIGO. What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond, + but it is not in my virtue to amend it. + IAGO. Virtue? a fig! 'Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. + Our bodies are gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners; so + that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed + up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with + many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with + industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in + our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of + reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of + our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions. + But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, + our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this, that you call love, to + be a sect or scion. + RODERIGO. It cannot be. + IAGO. It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the + will. Come, be a man! Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind + puppies. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to + thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I could never + better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse; follow thou + the wars; defeat thy favor with an usurped beard. I say, put + money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long + continue her love to the Moor- put money in thy purse- nor he his + to her. It was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an + answerable sequestration- put but money in thy purse. These Moors + are changeable in their wills- fill thy purse with money. The + food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him + shortly as acerb as the coloquintida. She must change for youth; + when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her + choice. She must have change, she must; therefore put money in + thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate + way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony + and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle + Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, + thou shalt enjoy her- therefore make money. A pox of drowning + thyself! It is clean out of the way. Seek thou rather to be + hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without + her. + RODERIGO. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue? + IAGO. Thou art sure of me- go, make money. I have told thee often, + and I retell thee again and again, I hate the Moor. My cause is + hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our + revenge against him. If thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself + a pleasure, me a sport. There are many events in the womb of time + which will be delivered. Traverse, go, provide thy money. We will + have more of this tomorrow. Adieu. + RODERIGO. Where shall we meet i' the morning? + IAGO. At my lodging. + RODERIGO. I'll be with thee betimes. + IAGO. Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? + RODERIGO. What say you? + IAGO. No more of drowning, do you hear? + RODERIGO. I am changed; I'll go sell all my land. Exit. + IAGO. Thus do I ever make my fool my purse; + For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane + If I would time expend with such a snipe + But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor, + And it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets + He has done my office. I know not if't be true, + But I for mere suspicion in that kind + Will do as if for surety. He holds me well, + The better shall my purpose work on him. + Cassio's a proper man. Let me see now- + To get his place, and to plume up my will + In double knavery- How, how?- Let's see- + After some time, to abuse Othello's ear + That he is too familiar with his wife. + He hath a person and a smooth dispose + To be suspected- framed to make women false. + The Moor is of a free and open nature, + That thinks men honest that but seem to be so, + And will as tenderly be led by the nose + As asses are. + I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night + Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. + Exit. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +A seaport in Cyprus. An open place near the quay. + +Enter Montano and two Gentlemen. + + MONTANO. What from the cape can you discern at sea? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Nothing at all. It is a high-wrought flood; + I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main, + Descry a sail. + MONTANO. Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land; + A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements. + If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea, + What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, + Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. A segregation of the Turkish fleet. + For do but stand upon the foaming shore, + The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds; + The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane, + Seems to cast water on the burning bear, + And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole. + I never did like molestation view + On the enchafed flood. + MONTANO. If that the Turkish fleet + Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd; + It is impossible to bear it out. + + Enter a third Gentleman. + + THIRD GENTLEMAN. News, lads! Our wars are done. + The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks, + That their designment halts. A noble ship of Venice + Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance + On most part of their fleet. + MONTANO. How? Is this true? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. The ship is here put in, + A Veronesa. Michael Cassio, + Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello, + Is come on shore; the Moor himself at sea, + And is in full commission here for Cyprus. + MONTANO. I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor. + THIRD GENTLEMAN. But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort + Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly + And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted + With foul and violent tempest. + MONTANO. Pray heavens he be, + For I have served him, and the man commands + Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho! + As well to see the vessel that's come in + As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, + Even till we make the main and the aerial blue + An indistinct regard. + THIRD GENTLEMAN. Come, let's do so, + For every minute is expectancy + Of more arrivance. + + Enter Cassio. + + CASSIO. Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle, + That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens + Give him defense against the elements, + For I have lost him on a dangerous sea. + MONTANO. I she well shipp'd? + CASSIO. His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot + Of very expert and approved allowance; + Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, + Stand in bold cure. + A cry within, "A sail, a sail, a sail!" + + Enter a fourth Gentleman. + + What noise? + FOURTH GENTLEMAN. The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea + Stand ranks of people, and they cry, "A sail!" + CASSIO. My hopes do shape him for the governor. + Guns heard. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. They do discharge their shot of courtesy- + Our friends at least. + CASSIO. I pray you, sir, go forth, + And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I shall. Exit. + MONTANO. But, good lieutenant, is your general wived? + CASSIO. Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid + That paragons description and wild fame, + One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, + And in the essential vesture of creation + Does tire the ingener. + + Re-enter second Gentleman. + + How now! who has put in? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general. + CASSIO. He has had most favorable and happy speed: + Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, + The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands, + Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel, + As having sense of beauty, do omit + Their mortal natures, letting go safely by + The divine Desdemona. + MONTANO. What is she? + CASSIO. She that I spake of, our great captain's captain, + Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, + Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts + A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard, + And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath, + That he may bless this bay with his tall ship, + Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, + Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits, + And bring all Cyprus comfort. + + Enter Desdemona, Emilia Iago, Roderigo, and Attendants. + + O, behold, + The riches of the ship is come on shore! + Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. + Hall to thee, lady! And the grace of heaven, + Before, behind thee, and on every hand, + Enwheel thee round! + DESDEMONA. I thank you, valiant Cassio. + What tidings can you tell me of my lord? + CASSIO. He is not yet arrived, nor know I aught + But that he's well and will be shortly here. + DESDEMONA. O, but I fear- How lost you company? + CASSIO. The great contention of the sea and skies + Parted our fellowship- But, hark! a sail. + A cry within, "A sail, a sail!" Guns heard. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. They give their greeting to the citadel; + This likewise is a friend. + CASSIO. See for the news. + Exit Gentleman. + Good ancient, you are welcome. [To Emilia.] Welcome, mistress. + Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, + That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding + That gives me this bold show of courtesy. Kisses her. + IAGO. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips + As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, + You'ld have enough. + DESDEMONA. Alas, she has no speech. + IAGO. In faith, too much; + I find it still when I have list to sleep. + Marry, before your ladyship I grant, + She puts her tongue a little in her heart + And chides with thinking. + EMILIA. You have little cause to say so. + IAGO. Come on, come on. You are pictures out of doors, + Bells in your parlors, wildcats in your kitchens, + Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, + Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds. + DESDEMONA. O, fie upon thee, slanderer! + IAGO. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk: + You rise to play, and go to bed to work. + EMILIA. You shall not write my praise. + IAGO. No, let me not. + DESDEMONA. What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst + praise me? + IAGO. O gentle lady, do not put me to't, + For I am nothing if not critical. + DESDEMONA. Come on, assay- There's one gone to the harbor? + IAGO. Ay, madam. + DESDEMONA. I am not merry, but I do beguile + The thing I am by seeming otherwise. + Come, how wouldst thou praise me? + IAGO. I am about it, but indeed my invention + Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frieze; + It plucks out brains and all. But my Muse labors, + And thus she is deliver'd. + If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, + The one's for use, the other useth it. + DESDEMONA. Well praised! How if she be black and witty? + IAGO. If she be black, and thereto have a wit, + She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit. + DESDEMONA. Worse and worse. + EMILIA. How if fair and foolish? + IAGO. She never yet was foolish that was fair, + For even her folly help'd her to an heir. + DESDEMONA. These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i' the + alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her that's foul and + foolish? + IAGO. There's none so foul and foolish thereunto, + But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do. + DESDEMONA. O heavy ignorance! Thou praisest the worst best. But what + praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one that + in the authority of her merit did justly put on the vouch of very + malice itself? + IAGO. She that was ever fair and never proud, + Had tongue at will and yet was never loud, + Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay, + Fled from her wish and yet said, "Now I may"; + She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh, + Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly; + She that in wisdom never was so frail + To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail; + She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind, + See suitors following and not look behind; + She was a wight, if ever such wight were- + DESDEMONA. To do what? + IAGO. To suckle fools and chronicle small beer. + DESDEMONA. O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn of him, + Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say you, Cassio? Is he not + a most profane and liberal counselor? + CASSIO. He speaks home, madam. You may relish him more in the + soldier than in the scholar. + IAGO. [Aside.] He takes her by the palm; ay, well said, whisper. + With as little a web as this will I ensnare as great a fly as + Cassio. Ay, smile upon her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own + courtship. You say true; 'tis so, indeed. If such tricks as these + strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had been better you had + not kissed your three fingers so oft, which now again you are + most apt to play the sir in. Very good. Well kissed! an excellent + courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers to your lips? + Would they were clyster-pipes for your sake! [Trumpet within.] + The Moor! I know his trumpet. + CASSIO. 'Tis truly so. + DESDEMONA. Let's meet him and receive him. + CASSIO. Lo, where he comes! + + Enter Othello and Attendants. + + OTHELLO. O my fair warrior! + DESDEMONA. My dear Othello! + OTHELLO. It gives me wonder great as my content + To see you here before me. O my soul's joy! + If after every tempest come such calms, + May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! + And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas + Olympus-high, and duck again as low + As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, + 'Twere now to be most happy; for I fear + My soul hath her content so absolute + That not another comfort like to this + Succeeds in unknown fate. + DESDEMONA. The heavens forbid + But that our loves and comforts should increase, + Even as our days do grow! + OTHELLO. Amen to that, sweet powers! + I cannot speak enough of this content; + It stops me here; it is too much of joy. + And this, and this, the greatest discords be Kisses her. + That e'er our hearts shall make! + IAGO. [Aside.] O, you are well tuned now! + But I'll set down the pegs that make this music, + As honest as I am. + OTHELLO. Come, let us to the castle. + News, friends: our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd. + How does my old acquaintance of this isle? + Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus; + I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet, + I prattle out of fashion, and I dote + In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago, + Go to the bay and disembark my coffers. + Bring thou the master to the citadel; + He is a good one, and his worthiness + Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona, + Once more well met at Cyprus. + Exeunt all but Iago and Roderigo. + IAGO. Do thou meet me presently at the harbor. Come hither. If thou + be'st valiant- as they say base men being in love have then a + nobility in their natures more than is native to them- list me. + The lieutenant tonight watches on the court of guard. First, I + must tell thee this: Desdemona is directly in love with him. + RODERIGO. With him? Why, 'tis not possible. + IAGO. Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed. Mark me + with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging and + telling her fantastical lies. And will she love him still for + prating? Let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be + fed; and what delight shall she have to look on the devil? When + the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be, + again to inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite, + loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, manners, and beauties- + all which the Moor is defective in. Now, for want of these + required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself + abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor; + very nature will instruct her in it and compel her to some second + choice. Now sir, this granted- as it is a most pregnant and + unforced position- who stands so eminently in the degree of this + fortune as Cassio does? A knave very voluble; no further + conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane + seeming, for the better compass of his salt and most hidden loose + affection? Why, none, why, none- a slipper and subtle knave, a + finder out of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and + counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present + itself- a devilish knave! Besides, the knave is handsome, young, + and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds + look after- a pestilent complete knave, and the woman hath found + him already. + RODERIGO. I cannot believe that in her; she's full of most blest + condition. + IAGO. Blest fig's-end! The wine she drinks is made of grapes. If + she had been blest, she would never have loved the Moor. Blest + pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? + Didst not mark that? + RODERIGO. Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy. + IAGO. Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue to the + history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their + lips that their breaths embraced together. Villainous thoughts, + Roderigo! When these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand + comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion. + Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me. I have brought you from + Venice. Watch you tonight; for the command, I'll lay't upon you. + Cassio knows you not. I'll not be far from you. Do you find some + occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or + tainting his discipline, or from what other course you please, + which the time shall more favorably minister. + RODERIGO. Well. + IAGO. Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may + strike at you. Provoke him, that he may; for even out of that + will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny, whose qualification shall + come into no true taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. + So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means + I shall then have to prefer them, and the impediment most + profitably removed, without the which there were no expectation + of our prosperity. + RODERIGO. I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity. + IAGO. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I must + fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell. + RODERIGO. Adieu. Exit. + IAGO. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; + That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit. + The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, + Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, + And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona + A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too, + Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure + I stand accountant for as great a sin, + But partly led to diet my revenge, + For that I do suspect the lusty Moor + Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof + Doth like a poisonous mineral gnaw my inwards, + And nothing can or shall content my soul + Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife. + Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor + At least into a jealousy so strong + That judgement cannot cure. Which thing to do, + If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace + For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, + I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip, + Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb + (For I fear Cassio with my nightcap too), + Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me + For making him egregiously an ass + And practicing upon his peace and quiet + Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused: + Knavery's plain face is never seen till used. Exit. + + + + +SCENE II. +A street. + +Enter a Herald with a proclamation; people following. + + HERALD. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant general, + that upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere + perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into + triumph; some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what + sport and revels his addiction leads him; for besides these + beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. So much + was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and + there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five + till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus + and our noble general Othello! Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +A hall in the castle. + +Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants. + + OTHELLO. Good Michael, look you to the guard tonight. + Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, + Not to outsport discretion. + CASSIO. Iago hath direction what to do; + But notwithstanding with my personal eye + Will I look to't. + OTHELLO. Iago is most honest. + Michael, good night. Tomorrow with your earliest + Let me have speech with you. Come, my dear love, + The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue; + That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you. + Good night. + Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants. + + Enter Iago. + + CASSIO. Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch. + IAGO. Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the clock. Our + general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let + us not therefore blame. He hath not yet made wanton the night + with her, and she is sport for Jove. + CASSIO. She's a most exquisite lady. + IAGO. And, I'll warrant her, full of game. + CASSIO. Indeed she's a most fresh and delicate creature. + IAGO. What an eye she has! Methinks it sounds a parley to + provocation. + CASSIO. An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest. + IAGO. And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love? + CASSIO. She is indeed perfection. + IAGO. Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a + stope of wine, and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants + that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello. + CASSIO. Not tonight, good Iago. I have very poor and unhappy brains + for drinking. I could well wish courtesy would invent some other + custom of entertainment. + IAGO. O, they are our friends! But one cup; I'll drink for you. + CASSIO. I have drunk but one cup tonight, and that was craftily + qualified too, and behold what innovation it makes here. I am + unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with + any more. + IAGO. What, man! 'Tis a night of revels, the gallants desire it. + CASSIO. Where are they? + IAGO. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. + CASSIO. I'll do't, but it dislikes me. Exit. + IAGO. If I can fasten but one cup upon him, + With that which he hath drunk tonight already, + He'll be as full of quarrel and offense + As my young mistress' dog. Now my sick fool Roderigo, + Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out, + To Desdemona hath tonight caroused + Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch. + Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, + That hold their honors in a wary distance, + The very elements of this warlike isle, + Have I tonight fluster'd with flowing cups, + And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards, + Am I to put our Cassio in some action + That may offend the isle. But here they come. + If consequence do but approve my dream, + My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. + + Re-enter Cassio; with him Montano and Gentlemen; + Servants following with wine. + + CASSIO. 'Fore God, they have given me a rouse already. + MONTANO. Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a + soldier. + IAGO. Some wine, ho! + + [Sings.] "And let me the canakin clink, clink; + And let me the canakin clink. + A soldier's a man; + O, man's life's but a span; + Why then let a soldier drink." + + Some wine, boys! + CASSIO. 'Fore God, an excellent song. + IAGO. I learned it in England, where indeed they are most potent in + potting. Your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander- + Drink, ho!- are nothing to your English. + CASSIO. Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking? + IAGO. Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk; he + sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a + vomit ere the next pottle can be filled. + CASSIO. To the health of our general! + MONTANO. I am for it, lieutenant, and I'll do you justice. + IAGO. O sweet England! + + [Sings.] "King Stephen was and-a worthy peer, + His breeches cost him but a crown; + He held them sixpence all too dear, + With that he call'd the tailor lown. + + "He was a wight of high renown, + And thou art but of low degree. + 'Tis pride that pulls the country down; + Then take thine auld cloak about thee." + + Some wine, ho! + CASSIO. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. + IAGO. Will you hear't again? + CASSIO. No, for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does + those things. Well, God's above all, and there be souls must be + saved, and there be souls must not be saved. + IAGO. It's true, good lieutenant. + CASSIO. For mine own part- no offense to the general, nor any man + of quality- I hope to be saved. + IAGO. And so do I too, lieutenant. + CASSIO. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the lieutenant is to + be saved before the ancient. Let's have no more of this; let's to + our affairs. God forgive us our sins! Gentlemen, let's look to + our business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk: this is my + ancient, this is my right hand, and this is my left. I am not + drunk now; I can stand well enough, and I speak well enough. + ALL. Excellent well. + CASSIO. Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am + drunk. Exit. + MONTANO. To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch. + IAGO. You see this fellow that is gone before; + He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar + And give direction. And do but see his vice; + 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, + The one as long as the other. 'Tis pity of him. + I fear the trust Othello puts him in + On some odd time of his infirmity + Will shake this island. + MONTANO. But is he often thus? + IAGO. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep. + He'll watch the horologe a double set, + If drink rock not his cradle. + MONTANO. It were well + The general were put in mind of it. + Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature + Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio + And looks not on his evils. Is not this true? + + Enter Roderigo. + + IAGO. [Aside to him.] How now, Roderigo! + I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. Exit Roderigo. + MONTANO. And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor + Should hazard such a place as his own second + With one of an ingraft infirmity. + It were an honest action to say + So to the Moor. + IAGO. Not I, for this fair island. + I do love Cassio well, and would do much + To cure him of this evil- But, hark! What noise? + A cry within, "Help, help!" + + Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo. + + CASSIO. 'Zounds! You rogue! You rascal! + MONTANO. What's the matter, lieutenant? + CASSIO. A knave teach me my duty! But I'll beat the knave into a + twiggen bottle. + RODERIGO. Beat me! + CASSIO. Dost thou prate, rogue? Strikes Roderigo. + MONTANO. Nay, good lieutenant; I pray you, sir, hold your hand. + CASSIO. Let me go, sir, or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. + MONTANO. Come, come, you're drunk. + CASSIO. Drunk? They fight. + IAGO. [Aside to Roderigo.] Away, I say; go out and cry a mutiny. + Exit Roderigo. + Nay, good lieutenant! God's will, gentlemen! + Help, ho!- Lieutenant- sir- Montano- sir- + Help, masters!- Here's a goodly watch indeed! + A bell rings. + Who's that that rings the bell?- Diablo, ho! + The town will rise. God's will, lieutenant, hold! + You will be shamed forever. + + Re-enter Othello and Attendants. + + OTHELLO. What is the matter here? + MONTANO. 'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death. + Faints. + OTHELLO. Hold, for your lives! + IAGO. Hold, ho! Lieutenant- sir- Montano- gentlemen- + Have you forgot all place of sense and duty? + Hold! the general speaks to you! Hold, hold, for shame! + OTHELLO. Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this? + Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that + Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites? + For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl. + He that stirs next to carve for his own rage + Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. + Silence that dreadful bell; it frights the isle + From her propriety. What is the matter, masters? + Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving, + Speak: who began this? On thy love, I charge thee. + IAGO. I do not know. Friends all but now, even now, + In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom + Devesting them for bed; and then, but now + (As if some planet had unwitted men), + Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast, + In opposition bloody. I cannot speak + Any beginning to this peevish odds; + And would in action glorious I had lost + Those legs that brought me to a part of it! + OTHELLO. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? + CASSIO. I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak. + OTHELLO. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil; + The gravity and stillness of your youth + The world hath noted, and your name is great + In mouths of wisest censure. What's the matter, + That you unlace your reputation thus, + And spend your rich opinion for the name + Of a night-brawler? Give me answer to it. + MONTANO. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger. + Your officer, Iago, can inform you- + While I spare speech, which something now offends me- + Of all that I do know. Nor know I aught + By me that's said or done amiss this night, + Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, + And to defend ourselves it be a sin + When violence assails us. + OTHELLO. Now, by heaven, + My blood begins my safer guides to rule, + And passion, having my best judgement collied, + Assays to lead the way. If I once stir, + Or do but lift this arm, the best of you + Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know + How this foul rout began, who set it on, + And he that is approved in this offense, + Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, + Shall lose me. What! in a town of war, + Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear, + To manage private and domestic quarrel, + In night, and on the court and guard of safety! + 'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't? + MONTANO. If partially affined, or leagued in office, + Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, + Thou art no soldier. + IAGO. Touch me not so near: + I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth + Than it should do offense to Michael Cassio; + Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth + Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general. + Montano and myself being in speech, + There comes a fellow crying out for help, + And Cassio following him with determined sword, + To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman + Steps in to Cassio and entreats his pause. + Myself the crying fellow did pursue, + Lest by his clamor- as it so fell out- + The town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot, + Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather + For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, + And Cassio high in oath, which till tonight + I ne'er might say before. When I came back- + For this was brief- I found them close together, + At blow and thrust, even as again they were + When you yourself did part them. + More of this matter cannot I report. + But men are men; the best sometimes forget. + Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, + As men in rage strike those that wish them best, + Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received + From him that fled some strange indignity, + Which patience could not pass. + OTHELLO. I know, Iago, + Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, + Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee, + But never more be officer of mine. + + Re-enter Desdemona, attended. + + Look, if my gentle love be not raised up! + I'll make thee an example. + DESDEMONA. What's the matter? + OTHELLO. All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed. + Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon. + Lead him off. Exit Montano, attended. + Iago, look with care about the town, + And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. + Come, Desdemona, 'tis the soldiers' life. + To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. + Exeunt all but Iago and Cassio. + IAGO. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? + CASSIO. Ay, past all surgery. + IAGO. Marry, heaven forbid! + CASSIO. Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my + reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what + remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation! + IAGO. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily + wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation + is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit and + lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all, + unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man! there are + ways to recover the general again. You are but now cast in his + mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice; even so as one + would beat his offenseless dog to affright an imperious lion. Sue + to him again, and he's yours. + CASSIO. I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a + commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an + officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear? + and discourse fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible + spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call + thee devil! + IAGO. What was he that you followed with your sword? + What had he done to you? + CASSIO. I know not. + IAGO. Is't possible? + CASSIO. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a + quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an + enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should, + with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves + into beasts! + IAGO. Why, but you are now well enough. How came you thus + recovered? + CASSIO. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the + devil wrath: one unperfectness shows me another, to make me + frankly despise myself. + IAGO. Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place, + and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish + this had not befallen; but since it is as it is, mend it for your + own good. + CASSIO. I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a + drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would + stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and + presently a beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is unblest, + and the ingredient is a devil. + IAGO. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be + well used. Exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I + think you think I love you. + CASSIO. I have well approved it, sir. I drunk! + IAGO. You or any man living may be drunk at some time, man. I'll + tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife is now the + general. I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted + and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement + of her parts and graces. Confess yourself freely to her; + importune her help to put you in your place again. She is of so + free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a + vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This + broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter; + and, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your + love shall grow stronger than it was before. + CASSIO. You advise me well. + IAGO. I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness. + CASSIO. I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech + the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me. I am desperate of my + fortunes if they check me here. + IAGO. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant, I must to the + watch. + CASSIO. Good night, honest Iago. Exit. + IAGO. And what's he then that says I play the villain? + When this advice is free I give and honest, + Probal to thinking, and indeed the course + To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy + The inclining Desdemona to subdue + In any honest suit. She's framed as fruitful + As the free elements. And then for her + To win the Moor, were't to renounce his baptism, + All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, + His soul is so enfetter'd to her love, + That she may make, unmake, do what she list, + Even as her appetite shall play the god + With his weak function. How am I then a villain + To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, + Directly to his good? Divinity of hell! + When devils will the blackest sins put on, + They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, + As I do now. For whiles this honest fool + Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune, + And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, + I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, + That she repeals him for her body's lust; + And by how much she strives to do him good, + She shall undo her credit with the Moor. + So will I turn her virtue into pitch, + And out of her own goodness make the net + That shall enmesh them all. + + Enter Roderigo. + + How now, Roderigo! + RODERIGO. I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that + hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is almost spent; I + have been tonight exceedingly well cudgeled; and I think the + issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains; and + so, with no money at all and a little more wit, return again to + Venice. + IAGO. How poor are they that have not patience! + What wound did ever heal but by degrees? + Thou know'st we work by wit and not by witchcraft, + And wit depends on dilatory time. + Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, + And thou by that small hurt hast cashier'd Cassio. + Though other things grow fair against the sun, + Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe. + Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning; + Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. + Retire thee; go where thou art billeted. + Away, I say. Thou shalt know more hereafter. + Nay, get thee gone. [Exit Roderigo.] Two things are to be done: + My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress- + I'll set her on; + Myself the while to draw the Moor apart, + And bring him jump when he may Cassio find + Soliciting his wife. Ay, that's the way; + Dull not device by coldness and delay. Exit. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Before the castle. + +Enter Cassio and some Musicians. + + CASSIO. Masters, play here, I will content your pains; Something + that's brief; and bid "Good morrow, general." + Music. + + Enter Clown. + + CLOWN. Why, masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that + they speak i' the nose thus? + FIRST MUSICIAN. How, sir, how? + CLOWN. Are these, I pray you, wind instruments? + FIRST MUSICIAN. Ay, marry, are they, sir. + CLOWN. O, thereby hangs a tail. + FIRST MUSICIAN. Whereby hangs a tale, sir? + CLOWN. Marry, sir, by many a wind instrument that I know. But, + masters, here's money for you; and the general so likes your + music, that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more + noise with it. + FIRST MUSICIAN. Well, sir, we will not. + CLOWN. If you have any music that may not be heard, to't again; + but, as they say, to hear music the general does not greatly + care. + FIRST MUSICIAN. We have none such, sir. + CLOWN. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away. + Go, vanish into air, away! Exeunt Musicians. + CASSIO. Dost thou hear, my honest friend? + CLOWN. No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you. + CASSIO. Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There's a poor piece of gold + for thee. If the gentlewoman that attends the general's wife be + stirring, tell her there's one Cassio entreats her a little favor + of speech. Wilt thou do this? + CLOWN. She is stirring, sir. If she will stir hither, I shall seem + to notify unto her. + CASSIO. Do, good my friend. Exit Clown. + + Enter Iago. + + In happy time, Iago. + IAGO. You have not been abed, then? + CASSIO. Why, no; the day had broke + Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, + To send in to your wife. My suit to her + Is that she will to virtuous Desdemona + Procure me some access. + IAGO. I'll send her to you presently; + And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor + Out of the way, that your converse and business + May be more free. + CASSIO. I humbly thank you for't. [Exit Iago.] I never knew + A Florentine more kind and honest. + + Enter Emilia. + + EMILIA. Good morrow, good lieutenant. I am sorry + For your displeasure, but all will sure be well. + The general and his wife are talking of it, + And she speaks for you stoutly. The Moor replies + That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus + And great affinity and that in wholesome wisdom + He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you + And needs no other suitor but his likings + To take the safest occasion by the front + To bring you in again. + CASSIO. Yet, I beseech you, + If you think fit, or that it may be done, + Give me advantage of some brief discourse + With Desdemona alone. + EMILIA. Pray you, come in. + I will bestow you where you shall have time + To speak your bosom freely. + CASSIO. I am much bound to you. + Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +A room in the castle. + +Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen. + + OTHELLO. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot, + And by him do my duties to the Senate. + That done, I will be walking on the works; + Repair there to me. + IAGO. Well, my good lord, I'll do't. + OTHELLO. This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see't? + GENTLEMEN. We'll wait upon your lordship. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +The garden of the castle. + +Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia. + + DESDEMONA. Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do + All my abilities in thy behalf. + EMILIA. Good madam, do. I warrant it grieves my husband + As if the cause were his. + DESDEMONA. O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio, + But I will have my lord and you again + As friendly as you were. + CASSIO. Bounteous madam, + Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, + He's never anything but your true servant. + DESDEMONA. I know't: I thank you. You do love my lord: + You have known him long; and be you well assured + He shall in strangeness stand no farther off + Than in a politic distance. + CASSIO. Ay, but, lady, + That policy may either last so long, + Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, + Or breed itself so out of circumstances, + That I being absent and my place supplied, + My general will forget my love and service. + DESDEMONA. Do not doubt that. Before Emilia here + I give thee warrant of thy place, assure thee, + If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it + To the last article. My lord shall never rest; + I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience; + His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift; + I'll intermingle everything he does + With Cassio's suit. Therefore be merry, Cassio, + For thy solicitor shall rather die + Than give thy cause away. + + Enter Othello and Iago, at a distance. + + EMILIA. Madam, here comes my lord. + CASSIO. Madam, I'll take my leave. + DESDEMONA. Nay, stay and hear me speak. + CASSIO. Madam, not now. I am very ill at ease, + Unfit for mine own purposes. + DESDEMONA. Well, do your discretion. Exit Cassio. + IAGO. Ha! I like not that. + OTHELLO. What dost thou say? + IAGO. Nothing, my lord; or if- I know not what. + OTHELLO. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? + IAGO. Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it, + That he would steal away so guilty-like, + Seeing you coming. + OTHELLO. I do believe 'twas he. + DESDEMONA. How now, my lord! + I have been talking with a suitor here, + A man that languishes in your displeasure. + OTHELLO. Who is't you mean? + DESDEMONA. Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, + If I have any grace or power to move you, + His present reconciliation take; + For if he be not one that truly loves you, + That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, + I have no judgement in an honest face. + I prithee, call him back. + OTHELLO. Went he hence now? + DESDEMONA. Ay, sooth; so humbled + That he hath left part of his grief with me + To suffer with him. Good love, call him back. + OTHELLO. Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time. + DESDEMONA. But shall't be shortly? + OTHELLO. The sooner, sweet, for you. + DESDEMONA. Shall't be tonight at supper? + OTHELLO. No, not tonight. + DESDEMONA. Tomorrow dinner then? + OTHELLO. I shall not dine at home; + I meet the captains at the citadel. + DESDEMONA. Why then tomorrow night, or Tuesday morn, + On Tuesday noon, or night, on Wednesday morn. + I prithee, name the time, but let it not + Exceed three days. In faith, he's penitent; + And yet his trespass, in our common reason- + Save that, they say, the wars must make example + Out of their best- is not almost a fault + To incur a private check. When shall he come? + Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul, + What you would ask me, that I should deny, + Or stand so mammering on. What? Michael Cassio, + That came awooing with you, and so many a time + When I have spoke of you dispraisingly + Hath ta'en your part- to have so much to do + To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much- + OTHELLO. Prithee, no more. Let him come when he will; + I will deny thee nothing. + DESDEMONA. Why, this is not a boon; + 'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, + Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, + Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit + To your own person. Nay, when I have a suit + Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, + It shall be full of poise and difficult weight, + And fearful to be granted. + OTHELLO. I will deny thee nothing, + Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, + To leave me but a little to myself. + DESDEMONA. Shall I deny you? No. Farewell, my lord. + OTHELLO. Farewell, my Desdemona; I'll come to thee straight. + DESDEMONA. Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you; + Whate'er you be, I am obedient. + Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. + OTHELLO. Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, + But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, + Chaos is come again. + IAGO. My noble lord- + OTHELLO. What dost thou say, Iago? + IAGO. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady, + Know of your love? + OTHELLO. He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask? + IAGO. But for a satisfaction of my thought; + No further harm. + OTHELLO. Why of thy thought, Iago? + IAGO. I did not think he had been acquainted with her. + OTHELLO. O, yes, and went between us very oft. + IAGO. Indeed! + OTHELLO. Indeed? ay, indeed. Discern'st thou aught in that? + Is he not honest? + IAGO. Honest, my lord? + OTHELLO. Honest? Ay, honest. + IAGO. My lord, for aught I know. + OTHELLO. What dost thou think? + IAGO. Think, my lord? + OTHELLO. Think, my lord? By heaven, he echoes me, + As if there were some monster in his thought + Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something. + I heard thee say even now, thou like'st not that, + When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like? + And when I told thee he was of my counsel + In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, "Indeed!" + And didst contract and purse thy brow together, + As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain + Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me, + Show me thy thought. + IAGO. My lord, you know I love you. + OTHELLO. I think thou dost; + And for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty + And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath, + Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more; + For such things in a false disloyal knave + Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just + They're close dilations, working from the heart, + That passion cannot rule. + IAGO. For Michael Cassio, + I dare be sworn I think that he is honest. + OTHELLO. I think so too. + IAGO. Men should be what they seem; + Or those that be not, would they might seem none! + OTHELLO. Certain, men should be what they seem. + IAGO. Why then I think Cassio's an honest man. + OTHELLO. Nay, yet there's more in this. + I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, + As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts + The worst of words. + IAGO. Good my lord, pardon me; + Though I am bound to every act of duty, + I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. + Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false; + As where's that palace whereinto foul things + Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast so pure, + But some uncleanly apprehensions + Keep leets and law-days, and in session sit + With meditations lawful? + OTHELLO. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, + If thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his ear + A stranger to thy thoughts. + IAGO. I do beseech you- + Though I perchance am vicious in my guess, + As, I confess, it is my nature's plague + To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy + Shapes faults that are not- that your wisdom yet, + From one that so imperfectly conceits, + Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble + Out of his scattering and unsure observance. + It were not for your quiet nor your good, + Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, + To let you know my thoughts. + OTHELLO. What dost thou mean? + IAGO. Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls. + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; + But he that filches from me my good name + Robs me of that which not enriches him + And makes me poor indeed. + OTHELLO. By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts. + IAGO. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; + Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody. + OTHELLO. Ha! + IAGO. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy! + It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock + The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss + Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; + But O, what damned minutes tells he o'er + Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves! + OTHELLO. O misery! + IAGO. Poor and content is rich, and rich enough; + But riches fineless is as poor as winter + To him that ever fears he shall be poor. + Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend + From jealousy! + OTHELLO. Why, why is this? + Think'st thou I'ld make a life of jealousy, + To follow still the changes of the moon + With fresh suspicions? No! To be once in doubt + Is once to be resolved. Exchange me for a goat + When I shall turn the business of my soul + To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, + Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous + To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, + Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well; + Where virtue is, these are more virtuous. + Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw + The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt; + For she had eyes and chose me. No, Iago, + I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove; + And on the proof, there is no more but this- + Away at once with love or jealousy! + IAGO. I am glad of it, for now I shall have reason + To show the love and duty that I bear you + With franker spirit. Therefore, as I am bound, + Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof. + Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio; + Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure. + I would not have your free and noble nature + Out of self-bounty be abused. Look to't. + I know our country disposition well; + In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks + They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience + Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown. + OTHELLO. Dost thou say so? + IAGO. She did deceive her father, marrying you; + And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks, + She loved them most. + OTHELLO. And so she did. + IAGO. Why, go to then. + She that so young could give out such a seeming, + To seel her father's eyes up close as oak- + He thought 'twas witchcraft- but I am much to blame; + I humbly do beseech you of your pardon + For too much loving you. + OTHELLO. I am bound to thee forever. + IAGO. I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. + OTHELLO. Not a jot, not a jot. + IAGO. I'faith, I fear it has. + I hope you will consider what is spoke + Comes from my love. But I do see you're moved; + I am to pray you not to strain my speech + To grosser issues nor to larger reach + Than to suspicion. + OTHELLO. I will not. + IAGO. Should you do so, my lord, + My speech should fall into such vile success + Which my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend- + My lord, I see you're moved. + OTHELLO. No, not much moved. + I do not think but Desdemona's honest. + IAGO. Long live she so! and long live you to think so! + OTHELLO. And yet, how nature erring from itself- + IAGO. Ay, there's the point, as- to be bold with you- + Not to affect many proposed matches + Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, + Whereto we see in all things nature tends- + Foh, one may smell in such a will most rank, + Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. + But pardon me. I do not in position + Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear, + Her will, recoiling to her better judgement, + May fall to match you with her country forms, + And happily repent. + OTHELLO. Farewell, farewell. + If more thou dost perceive, let me know more; + Set on thy wife to observe. Leave me, Iago. + IAGO. [Going.] My lord, I take my leave. + OTHELLO. Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless + Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. + IAGO. [Returning.] My lord, I would I might entreat your honor + To scan this thing no further; leave it to time. + Though it be fit that Cassio have his place, + For sure he fills it up with great ability, + Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile, + You shall by that perceive him and his means. + Note if your lady strain his entertainment + With any strong or vehement importunity; + Much will be seen in that. In the meantime, + Let me be thought too busy in my fears- + As worthy cause I have to fear I am- + And hold her free, I do beseech your honor. + OTHELLO. Fear not my government. + IAGO. I once more take my leave. Exit. + OTHELLO. This fellow's of exceeding honesty, + And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, + Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard, + Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings, + I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind + To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black + And have not those soft parts of conversation + That chamberers have, or for I am declined + Into the vale of years- yet that's not much- + She's gone. I am abused, and my relief + Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, + That we can call these delicate creatures ours, + And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad, + And live upon the vapor of a dungeon, + Than keep a corner in the thing I love + For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones: + Prerogatived are they less than the base; + 'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death. + Even then this forked plague is fated to us + When we do quicken. Desdemona comes: + + Re-enter Desdemona and Emilia. + + If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! + I'll not believe't. + DESDEMONA. How now, my dear Othello! + Your dinner, and the generous islanders + By you invited, do attend your presence. + OTHELLO. I am to blame. + DESDEMONA. Why do you speak so faintly? + Are you not well? + OTHELLO. I have a pain upon my forehead here. + DESDEMONA. Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again. + Let me but bind it hard, within this hour + It will be well. + OTHELLO. Your napkin is too little; + He puts the handkerchief from him, and she drops it. + Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. + DESDEMONA. I am very sorry that you are not well. + Exeunt Othello and Desdemona. + EMILIA. I am glad I have found this napkin; + This was her first remembrance from the Moor. + My wayward husband hath a hundred times + Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token, + For he conjured her she should ever keep it, + That she reserves it evermore about her + To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out, + And give't Iago. What he will do with it + Heaven knows, not I; + I nothing but to please his fantasy. + + Re-enter Iago. + + IAGO. How now, what do you here alone? + EMILIA. Do not you chide; I have a thing for you. + IAGO. A thing for me? It is a common thing- + EMILIA. Ha! + IAGO. To have a foolish wife. + EMILIA. O, is that all? What will you give me now + For that same handkerchief? + IAGO. What handkerchief? + EMILIA. What handkerchief? + Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona, + That which so often you did bid me steal. + IAGO. Hast stol'n it from her? + EMILIA. No, faith; she let it drop by negligence, + And, to the advantage, I being here took't up. + Look, here it is. + IAGO. A good wench; give it me. + EMILIA. What will you do with't, that you have been so earnest + To have me filch it? + IAGO. [Snatching it.] Why, what is that to you? + EMILIA. If't be not for some purpose of import, + Give't me again. Poor lady, she'll run mad + When she shall lack it. + IAGO. Be not acknown on't; I have use for it. + Go, leave me. Exit Emilia. + I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin, + And let him find it. Trifles light as air + Are to the jealous confirmations strong + As proofs of holy writ; this may do something. + The Moor already changes with my poison: + Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons, + Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, + But with a little act upon the blood + Burn like the mines of sulphur. I did say so. + Look, where he comes! + + Re-enter Othello. + + Not poppy, nor mandragora, + Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, + Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep + Which thou owedst yesterday. + OTHELLO. Ha, ha, false to me? + IAGO. Why, how now, general! No more of that. + OTHELLO. Avaunt! be gone! Thou hast set me on the rack. + I swear 'tis better to be much abused + Than but to know't a little. + IAGO. How now, my lord? + OTHELLO. What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust? + I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me; + I slept the next night well, was free and merry; + I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips. + He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n, + Let him not know't and he's not robb'd at all. + IAGO. I am sorry to hear this. + OTHELLO. I had been happy if the general camp, + Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body, + So I had nothing known. O, now forever + Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content! + Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars + That make ambition virtue! O, farewell, + Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, + The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, + The royal banner, and all quality, + Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! + And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats + The immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit, + Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone! + IAGO. Is't possible, my lord? + OTHELLO. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore; + Be sure of it. Give me the ocular proof; + Or, by the worth of man's eternal soul, + Thou hadst been better have been born a dog + Than answer my waked wrath! + IAGO. Is't come to this? + OTHELLO. Make me to see't; or at the least so prove it, + That the probation bear no hinge nor loop + To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life! + IAGO. My noble lord- + OTHELLO. If thou dost slander her and torture me, + Never pray more; abandon all remorse; + On horror's head horrors accumulate; + Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed; + For nothing canst thou to damnation add + Greater than that. + IAGO. O grace! O heaven defend me! + Are you a man? have you a soul or sense? + God be wi' you; take mine office. O wretched fool, + That livest to make thine honesty a vice! + O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world, + To be direct and honest is not safe. + I thank you for this profit, and from hence + I'll love no friend sith love breeds such offense. + OTHELLO. Nay, stay; thou shouldst be honest. + IAGO. I should be wise; for honesty's a fool, + And loses that it works for. + OTHELLO. By the world, + I think my wife be honest, and think she is not; + I think that thou art just, and think thou art not. + I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh + As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black + As mine own face. If there be cords or knives, + Poison or fire, or suffocating streams, + I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied! + IAGO. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion; + I do repent me that I put it to you. + You would be satisfied? + OTHELLO. Would? Nay, I will. + IAGO. And may. But, how? how satisfied, my lord? + Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on? + Behold her topp'd? + OTHELLO. Death and damnation! O! + IAGO. It were a tedious difficulty, I think, + To bring them to that prospect. Damn them then, + If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster + More than their own! What then? how then? + What shall I say? Where's satisfaction? + It is impossible you should see this + Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys, + As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross + As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say, + If imputation and strong circumstances, + Which lead directly to the door of truth, + Will give you satisfaction, you may have't. + OTHELLO. Give me a living reason she's disloyal. + IAGO. I do not like the office; + But sith I am enter'd in this cause so far, + Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love, + I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately + And, being troubled with a raging tooth, + I could not sleep. + There are a kind of men so loose of soul, + That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs; + One of this kind is Cassio. + In sleep I heard him say, "Sweet Desdemona, + Let us be wary, let us hide our loves"; + And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, + Cry, "O sweet creature!" and then kiss me hard, + As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots, + That grew upon my lips; then laid his leg + Over my thigh, and sigh'd and kiss'd; and then + Cried, "Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!" + OTHELLO. O monstrous! monstrous! + IAGO. Nay, this was but his dream. + OTHELLO. But this denoted a foregone conclusion. + 'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. + IAGO. And this may help to thicken other proofs + That do demonstrate thinly. + OTHELLO. I'll tear her all to pieces. + IAGO. Nay, but be wise; yet we see nothing done; + She may be honest yet. Tell me but this; + Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief + Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand? + OTHELLO. I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift. + IAGO. I know not that; but such a handkerchief- + I am sure it was your wife's- did I today + See Cassio wipe his beard with. + OTHELLO. If it be that- + IAGO. If it be that, or any that was hers, + It speaks against her with the other proofs. + OTHELLO. O, that the slave had forty thousand lives! + One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. + Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago, + All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven. + 'Tis gone. + Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow hell! + Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne + To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, + For 'tis of aspics' tongues! + IAGO. Yet be content. + OTHELLO. O, blood, blood, blood! + IAGO. Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change. + OTHELLO. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea, + Whose icy current and compulsive course + Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on + To the Propontic and the Hellespont, + Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, + Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, + Till that a capable and wide revenge + Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven, + In the due reverence of a sacred vow Kneels. + I here engage my words. + IAGO. Do not rise yet. Kneels. + Witness, you ever-burning lights above, + You elements that clip us round about, + Witness that here Iago doth give up + The execution of his wit, hands, heart, + To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command, + And to obey shall be in me remorse, + What bloody business ever. They rise. + OTHELLO. I greet thy love, + Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, + And will upon the instant put thee to't: + Within these three days let me hear thee say + That Cassio's not alive. + IAGO. My friend is dead, 'tis done at your request; + But let her live. + OTHELLO. Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her! + Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw, + To furnish me with some swift means of death + For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant. + IAGO. I am your own forever. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE IV. +Before the castle. + +Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown. + + DESDEMONA. Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies? + CLOWN. I dare not say he lies anywhere. + DESDEMONA. Why, man? + CLOWN. He's a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies, is + stabbing. + DESDEMONA. Go to! Where lodges he? + CLOWN. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie. + DESDEMONA. Can anything be made of this? + CLOWN. I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a lodging, + and say he lies here or he lies there, were to lie in mine own + throat. + DESDEMONA. Can you inquire him out and be edified by report? + CLOWN. I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions + and by them answer. + DESDEMONA. Seek him, bid him come hither. Tell him I have moved my + lord on his behalf and hope all will be well. + CLOWN. To do this is within the compass of man's wit, and therefore + I will attempt the doing it. Exit. + DESDEMONA. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia? + EMILIA. I know not, madam. + DESDEMONA. Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse + Full of crusadoes; and, but my noble Moor + Is true of mind and made of no such baseness + As jealous creatures are, it were enough + To put him to ill thinking. + EMILIA. Is he not jealous? + DESDEMONA. Who, he? I think the sun where he was born + Drew all such humors from him. + EMILIA. Look, where he comes. + DESDEMONA. I will not leave him now till Cassio + Be call'd to him. + + Enter Othello. + + How is't with you, my lord? + OTHELLO. Well, my good lady. [Aside.] O, hardness to dissemble! + How do you, Desdemona? + DESDEMONA. Well, my good lord. + OTHELLO. Give me your hand. This hand is moist, my lady. + DESDEMONA. It yet has felt no age nor known no sorrow. + OTHELLO. This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart; + Hot, hot, and moist. This hand of yours requires + A sequester from liberty, fasting, and prayer, + Much castigation, exercise devout, + For here's a young and sweating devil here + That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand, + A frank one. + DESDEMONA. You may, indeed, say so; + For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart. + OTHELLO. A liberal hand. The hearts of old gave hands; + But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts. + DESDEMONA. I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise. + OTHELLO. What promise, chuck? + DESDEMONA. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you. + OTHELLO. I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me; + Lend me thy handkerchief. + DESDEMONA. Here, my lord. + OTHELLO. That which I gave you. + DESDEMONA. I have it not about me. + OTHELLO. Not? + DESDEMONA. No, faith, my lord. + OTHELLO. That's a fault. That handkerchief + Did an Egyptian to my mother give; + She was a charmer, and could almost read + The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it, + 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father + Entirely to her love, but if she lost it + Or made a gift of it, my father's eye + Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt + After new fancies. She dying gave it me, + And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, + To give it her. I did so, and take heed on't; + Make it a darling like your precious eye; + To lose't or give't away were such perdition + As nothing else could match. + DESDEMONA. Is't possible? + OTHELLO. 'Tis true; there's magic in the web of it. + A sibyl, that had number'd in the world + The sun to course two hundred compasses, + In her prophetic fury sew'd the work; + The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk, + And it was dyed in mummy which the skillful + Conserved of maiden's hearts. + DESDEMONA. Indeed! is't true? + OTHELLO. Most veritable; therefore look to't well. + DESDEMONA. Then would to God that I had never seen't! + OTHELLO. Ha! wherefore? + DESDEMONA. Why do you speak so startingly and rash? + OTHELLO. Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out o' the way? + DESDEMONA. Heaven bless us! + OTHELLO. Say you? + DESDEMONA. It is not lost; but what an if it were? + OTHELLO. How? + DESDEMONA. I say, it is not lost. + OTHELLO. Fetch't, let me see it. + DESDEMONA. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now. + This is a trick to put me from my suit. + Pray you, let Cassio be received again. + OTHELLO. Fetch me the handkerchief, my mind misgives. + DESDEMONA. Come, come, + You'll never meet a more sufficient man. + OTHELLO. The handkerchief! + DESDEMONA. I pray, talk me of Cassio. + OTHELLO. The handkerchief! + DESDEMONA. A man that all his time + Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, + Shared dangers with you- + OTHELLO. The handkerchief! + DESDEMONA. In sooth, you are to blame. + OTHELLO. Away! Exit. + EMILIA. Is not this man jealous? + DESDEMONA. I ne'er saw this before. + Sure there's some wonder in this handkerchief; + I am most unhappy in the loss of it. + EMILIA. 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man. + They are all but stomachs and we all but food; + They eat us hungerly, and when they are full + They belch us. Look you! Cassio and my husband. + + Enter Cassio and Iago. + + IAGO. There is no other way; 'tis she must do't. + And, lo, the happiness! Go and importune her. + DESDEMONA. How now, good Cassio! What's the news with you? + CASSIO. Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you + That by your virtuous means I may again + Exist and be a member of his love + Whom I with all the office of my heart + Entirely honor. I would not be delay'd. + If my offense be of such mortal kind + That nor my service past nor present sorrows + Nor purposed merit in futurity + Can ransom me into his love again, + But to know so must be my benefit; + So shall I clothe me in a forced content + And shut myself up in some other course + To Fortune's alms. + DESDEMONA. Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio! + My advocation is not now in tune; + My lord is not my lord, nor should I know him + Were he in favor as in humor alter'd. + So help me every spirit sanctified, + As I have spoken for you all my best + And stood within the blank of his displeasure + For my free speech! You must awhile be patient. + What I can do I will; and more I will + Than for myself I dare. Let that suffice you. + IAGO. Is my lord angry? + EMILIA. He went hence but now, + And certainly in strange unquietness. + IAGO. Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, + When it hath blown his ranks into the air + And, like the devil, from his very arm + Puff'd his own brother. And can he be angry? + Something of moment then. I will go meet him. + There's matter in't indeed if he be angry. + DESDEMONA. I prithee, do so. Exit Iago. + Something sure of state, + Either from Venice or some unhatch'd practice + Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, + Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such cases + Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, + Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so; + For let our finger ache, and it indues + Our other healthful members even to that sense + Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods, + Nor of them look for such observancy + As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, + I was, unhandsome warrior as I am, + Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; + But now I find I had suborn'd the witness, + And he's indicted falsely. + EMILIA. Pray heaven it be state matters, as you think, + And no conception nor no jealous toy + Concerning you. + DESDEMONA. Alas the day, I never gave him cause! + EMILIA. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so; + They are not ever jealous for the cause, + But jealous for they are jealous. 'Tis a monster + Begot upon itself, born on itself. + DESDEMONA. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind! + EMILIA. Lady, amen. + DESDEMONA. I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout. + If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit, + And seek to effect it to my uttermost. + CASSIO. I humbly thank your ladyship. + Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. + + Enter Bianca. + + BIANCA. Save you, friend Cassio! + CASSIO. What make you from home? + How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? + I'faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. + BIANCA. And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. + What, keep a week away? seven days and nights? + Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours, + More tedious than the dial eight score times? + O weary reckoning! + CASSIO. Pardon me, Bianca. + I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd; + But I shall in a more continuate time + Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, + Gives her Desdemona's handkerchief. + Take me this work out. + BIANCA. O Cassio, whence came this? + This is some token from a newer friend. + To the felt absence now I feel a cause. + Is't come to this? Well, well. + CASSIO. Go to, woman! + Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, + From whence you have them. You are jealous now + That this is from some mistress, some remembrance. + No, by my faith, Bianca. + BIANCA. Why, whose is it? + CASSIO. I know not, sweet. I found it in my chamber. + I like the work well. Ere it be demanded- + As like enough it will- I'ld have it copied. + Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time. + BIANCA. Leave you! wherefore? + CASSIO. I do attend here on the general; + And think it no addition, nor my wish, + To have him see me woman'd. + BIANCA. Why, I pray you? + CASSIO. Not that I love you not. + BIANCA. But that you do not love me. + I pray you, bring me on the way a little, + And say if I shall see you soon at night. + CASSIO. 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you, + For I attend here, but I'll see you soon. + BIANCA. 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanced. Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +Cyprus. Before the castle. + +Enter Othello and Iago. + + IAGO. Will you think so? + OTHELLO. Think so, Iago? + IAGO. What, + To kiss in private? + OTHELLO. An unauthorized kiss. + IAGO. Or to be naked with her friend in bed + An hour or more, not meaning any harm? + OTHELLO. Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm! + It is hypocrisy against the devil. + They that mean virtuously and yet do so, + The devil their virtue tempts and they tempt heaven. + IAGO. So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip. + But if I give my wife a handkerchief- + OTHELLO. What then? + IAGO. Why, then, 'tis hers, my lord, and being hers, + She may, I think, bestow't on any man. + OTHELLO. She is protectress of her honor too. + May she give that? + IAGO. Her honor is an essence that's not seen; + They have it very oft that have it not. + But for the handkerchief- + OTHELLO. By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it. + Thou said'st- O, it comes o'er my memory, + As doth the raven o'er the infected house, + Boding to all- he had my handkerchief. + IAGO. Ay, what of that? + OTHELLO. That's not so good now. + IAGO. What, + If I had said I had seen him do you wrong? + Or heard him say- as knaves be such abroad, + Who having, by their own importunate suit, + Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, + Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose + But they must blab- + OTHELLO. Hath he said anything? + IAGO. He hath, my lord; but be you well assured, + No more than he'll unswear. + OTHELLO. What hath he said? + IAGO. Faith, that he did- I know not what he did. + OTHELLO. What? what? + IAGO. Lie- + OTHELLO. With her? + IAGO. With her, on her, what you will. + OTHELLO. Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when they + belie her. Lie with her! 'Zounds, that's fulsome! Handkerchief- + confessions- handkerchief! To confess and be hanged for his labor- + first, to be hanged, and then to confess. I tremble at it. + Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without + some instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus. Pish! + Noses, ears, and lips. Is't possible? Confess? Handkerchief? O + devil! + Falls in a trance. + IAGO. Work on, + My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught, + And many worthy and chaste dames even thus, + All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! My lord! + My lord, I say! Othello! + + Enter Cassio. + + How now, Cassio! + CASSIO. What's the matter? + IAGO. My lord is fall'n into an epilepsy. + This is his second fit; he had one yesterday. + CASSIO. Rub him about the temples. + IAGO. No, forbear; + The lethargy must have his quiet course. + If not, he foams at mouth, and by and by + Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs. + Do you withdraw yourself a little while, + He will recover straight. When he is gone, + I would on great occasion speak with you. Exit Cassio. + How is it, general? Have you not hurt your head? + OTHELLO. Dost thou mock me? + IAGO. I mock you? No, by heaven. + Would you would bear your fortune like a man! + OTHELLO. A horned man's a monster and a beast. + IAGO. There's many a beast then in a populous city, + And many a civil monster. + OTHELLO. Did he confess it? + IAGO. Good sir, be a man; + Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked + May draw with you. There's millions now alive + That nightly lie in those unproper beds + Which they dare swear peculiar. Your case is better. + O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock, + To lip a wanton in a secure couch, + And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know, + And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be. + OTHELLO. O, thou art wise; 'tis certain. + IAGO. Stand you awhile apart, + Confine yourself but in a patient list. + Whilst you were here o'erwhelmed with your grief- + A passion most unsuiting such a man- + Cassio came hither. I shifted him away, + And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy; + Bade him anon return and here speak with me + The which he promised. Do but encave yourself + And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns, + That dwell in every region of his face; + For I will make him tell the tale anew, + Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when + He hath and is again to cope your wife. + I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience, + Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen, + And nothing of a man. + OTHELLO. Dost thou hear, Iago? + I will be found most cunning in my patience; + But (dost thou hear?) most bloody. + IAGO. That's not amiss; + But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw? + Othello retires. + Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, + A housewife that by selling her desires + Buys herself bread and clothes. It is a creature + That dotes on Cassio, as 'tis the strumpet's plague + To beguile many and be beguiled by one. + He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain + From the excess of laughter. Here he comes. + + Re-enter Cassio. + + As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad; + And his unbookish jealousy must construe + Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light behavior + Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieutenant? + CASSIO. The worser that you give me the addition + Whose want even kills me. + IAGO. Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't. + Now, if this suit lay in Bianco's power, + How quickly should you speed! + CASSIO. Alas, poor caitiff! + OTHELLO. Look, how he laughs already! + IAGO. I never knew a woman love man so. + CASSIO. Alas, poor rogue! I think, i'faith, she loves me. + OTHELLO. Now he denies it faintly and laughs it out. + IAGO. Do you hear, Cassio? + OTHELLO. Now he importunes him + To tell it o'er. Go to; well said, well said. + IAGO. She gives it out that you shall marry her. + Do you intend it? + CASSIO. Ha, ha, ha! + OTHELLO. Do you triumph, Roman? Do you triumph? + CASSIO. I marry her! What? A customer! I prithee, bear some charity + to my wit; do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha! + OTHELLO. So, so, so, so. They laugh that win. + IAGO. Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her. + CASSIO. Prithee, say true. + IAGO. I am a very villain else. + OTHELLO. Have you scored me? Well. + CASSIO. This is the monkey's own giving out. She is persuaded I + will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, not out of my + promise. + OTHELLO. Iago beckons me; now he begins the story. + CASSIO. She was here even now; she haunts me in every place. I was + the other day talking on the sea bank with certain Venetians, and + thither comes the bauble, and, by this hand, she falls me thus + about my neck- + OTHELLO. Crying, "O dear Cassio!" as it were; his gesture imports + it. + CASSIO. So hangs and lolls and weeps upon me; so hales and pulls + me. Ha, ha, ha! + OTHELLO. Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O, I see + that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw it to. + CASSIO. Well, I must leave her company. + IAGO. Before me! look where she comes. + CASSIO. 'Tis such another fitchew! marry, a perfumed one. + + Enter Bianca. + + What do you mean by this haunting of me? + BIANCA. Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you mean by + that same handkerchief you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to + take it. I must take out the work? A likely piece of work that + you should find it in your chamber and not know who left it + there! This is some minx's token, and I must take out the work? + There, give it your hobbyhorse. Wheresoever you had it, I'll take + out no work on't. + CASSIO. How now, my sweet Bianca! how now! how now! + OTHELLO. By heaven, that should be my handkerchief! + BIANCA. An you'll come to supper tonight, you may; an you will not, + come when you are next prepared for. Exit. + IAGO. After her, after her. + CASSIO. Faith, I must; she'll rail i' the street else. + IAGO. Will you sup there? + CASSIO. Faith, I intend so. + IAGO. Well, I may chance to see you, for I would very fain speak + with you. + CASSIO. Prithee, come; will you? + IAGO. Go to; say no more. Exit Cassio. + OTHELLO. [Advancing.] How shall I murther him, Iago? + IAGO. Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice? + OTHELLO. O Iago! + IAGO. And did you see the handkerchief? + OTHELLO. Was that mine? + IAGO. Yours, by this hand. And to see how he prizes the foolish + woman your wife! She gave it him, and he hath given it his whore. + OTHELLO. I would have him nine years akilling. A fine woman! a fair + woman! a sweet woman! + IAGO. Nay, you must forget that. + OTHELLO. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned tonight, for + she shall not live. No, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, + and it hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter creature. + She might lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks. + IAGO. Nay, that's not your way. + OTHELLO. Hang her! I do but say what she is. So delicate with her + needle, an admirable musician. O, she will sing the savageness + out of a bear. Of so high and plenteous wit and invention- + IAGO. She's the worse for all this. + OTHELLO. O, a thousand, a thousand times. And then, of so gentle a + condition! + IAGO. Ay, too gentle. + OTHELLO. Nay, that's certain. But yet the pity of it, Iago! + O Iago, the pity of it, Iago! + IAGO. If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to + offend, for, if it touch not you, it comes near nobody. + OTHELLO. I will chop her into messes. Cuckold me! + IAGO. O, 'tis foul in her. + OTHELLO. With mine officer! + IAGO. That's fouler. + OTHELLO. Get me some poison, Iago, this night. I'll not expostulate + with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again. This + night, Iago. + IAGO. Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed + she hath contaminated. + OTHELLO. Good, good, the justice of it pleases, very good. + IAGO. And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker. You shall hear more + by midnight. + OTHELLO. Excellent good. [A trumpet within.] What trumpet is that + same? + IAGO. Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico + Come from the Duke. And, see your wife is with him. + + Enter Lodovico, Desdemona, and Attendants. + + LODOVICO. God save the worthy general! + OTHELLO. With all my heart, sir. + LODOVICO. The Duke and Senators of Venice greet you. + Gives him a letter. + OTHELLO. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures. + Opens the letter, and reads. + DESDEMONA. And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico? + IAGO. I am very glad to see you, signior; + Welcome to Cyprus. + LODOVICO. I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio? + IAGO. Lives, sir. + DESDEMONA. Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord + An unkind breech; but you shall make all well. + OTHELLO. Are you sure of that? + DESDEMONA. My lord? + OTHELLO. [Reads.] "This fail you not to do, as you will-" + LODOVICO. He did not call; he's busy in the paper. + Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio? + DESDEMONA. A most unhappy one. I would do much + To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio. + OTHELLO. Fire and brimstone! + DESDEMONA. My lord? + OTHELLO. Are you wise? + DESDEMONA. What, is he angry? + LODOVICO. May be the letter moved him; + For, as I think, they do command him home, + Deputing Cassio in his government. + DESDEMONA. By my troth, I am glad on't. + OTHELLO. Indeed! + DESDEMONA. My lord? + OTHELLO. I am glad to see you mad. + DESDEMONA. Why, sweet Othello? + OTHELLO. Devil! Strikes her. + DESDEMONA. I have not deserved this. + LODOVICO. My lord, this would not be believed in Venice, + Though I should swear I saw't. 'Tis very much. + Make her amends; she weeps. + OTHELLO. O devil, devil! + If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, + Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. + Out of my sight! + DESDEMONA. [Going.] I will not stay to offend you. + LODOVICO. Truly, an obedient lady. + I do beseech your lordship, call her back. + OTHELLO. Mistress! + DESDEMONA. My lord? + OTHELLO. What would you with her, sir? + LODOVICO. Who, I, my lord? + OTHELLO. Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn. + Sir, she can turn and turn, and yet go on, + And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep; + And she's obedient, as you say, obedient, + Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears. + Concerning this, sir- O well-painted passion!- + I am commanded home. Get you away; + I'll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate, + And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt! + Exit Desdemona. + Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight, + I do entreat that we may sup together. + You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys! + Exit. + LODOVICO. Is this the noble Moor whom our full Senate + Call all in all sufficient? This the nature + Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue + The shot of accident nor dart of chance + Could neither graze nor pierce? + IAGO. He is much changed. + LODOVICO. Are his wits safe? Is he not light of brain? + IAGO. He's that he is. I may not breathe my censure + What he might be: if what he might he is not, + I would to heaven he were! + LODOVICO. What, strike his wife! + IAGO. Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew + That stroke would prove the worst! + LODOVICO. Is it his use? + Or did the letters work upon his blood, + And new create this fault? + IAGO. Alas, alas! + It is not honesty in me to speak + What I have seen and known. You shall observe him, + And his own courses will denote him so + That I may save my speech. Do but go after, + And mark how he continues. + LODOVICO. I am sorry that I am deceived in him. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +A room in the castle. + +Enter Othello and Emilia. + + OTHELLO. You have seen nothing, then? + EMILIA. Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect. + OTHELLO. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together. + EMILIA. But then I saw no harm, and then I heard + Each syllable that breath made up between them. + OTHELLO. What, did they never whisper? + EMILIA. Never, my lord. + OTHELLO. Nor send you out o' the way? + EMILIA. Never. + OTHELLO. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing? + EMILIA. Never, my lord. + OTHELLO. That's strange. + EMILIA. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, + Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other, + Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. + If any wretch have put this in your head, + Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse! + For if she be not honest, chaste, and true, + There's no man happy; the purest of their wives + Is foul as slander. + OTHELLO. Bid her come hither; go. Exit Emilia. + She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd + That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore, + A closet lock and key of villainous secrets. + And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't. + + Enter Desdemona with Emilia. + + DESDEMONA. My lord, what is your will? + OTHELLO. Pray, chuck, come hither. + DESDEMONA. What is your pleasure? + OTHELLO. Let me see your eyes; + Look in my face. + DESDEMONA. What horrible fancy's this? + OTHELLO. [To Emilia.] Some of your function, mistress, + Leave procreants alone and shut the door; + Cough, or cry "hem," if anybody come. + Your mystery, your mystery; nay, dispatch. Exit Emilia. + DESDEMONA. Upon my knees, what doth your speech import? + I understand a fury in your words, + But not the words. + OTHELLO. Why, what art thou? + DESDEMONA. Your wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife. + OTHELLO. Come, swear it, damn thyself; + Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves + Should fear to seize thee. Therefore be double-damn'd; + Swear thou art honest. + DESDEMONA. Heaven doth truly know it. + OTHELLO. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell. + DESDEMONA. To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false? + OTHELLO. O Desdemona! Away! away! away! + DESDEMONA. Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep? + Am I the motive of these tears, my lord? + If haply you my father do suspect + An instrument of this your calling back, + Lay not your blame on me. If you have lost him, + Why, I have lost him too. + OTHELLO. Had it pleased heaven + To try me with affliction, had they rain'd + All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head, + Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips, + Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, + I should have found in some place of my soul + A drop of patience; but, alas, to make me + A fixed figure for the time of scorn + To point his slow unmoving finger at! + Yet could I bear that too, well, very well; + But there, where I have garner'd up my heart, + Where either I must live or bear no life; + The fountain from the which my current runs, + Or else dries up; to be discarded thence! + Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads + To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there, + Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin, + Ay, there, look grim as hell! + DESDEMONA. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. + OTHELLO. O, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles, + That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, + Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet + That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born! + DESDEMONA. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? + OTHELLO. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, + Made to write "whore" upon? What committed? + Committed? O thou public commoner! + I should make very forges of my cheeks, + That would to cinders burn up modesty, + Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed! + Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks; + The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, + Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, + And will not hear it. What committed? + Impudent strumpet! + DESDEMONA. By heaven, you do me wrong. + OTHELLO. Are not you a strumpet? + DESDEMONA. No, as I am a Christian. + If to preserve this vessel for my lord + From any other foul unlawful touch + Be not to be a strumpet, I am none. + OTHELLO. What, not a whore? + DESDEMONA. No, as I shall be saved. + OTHELLO. Is't possible? + DESDEMONA. O, heaven forgive us! + OTHELLO. I cry you mercy then; + I took you for that cunning whore of Venice + That married with Othello. [Raises his voice.] You, mistress, + That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, + And keep the gate of hell! + + Re-enter Emilia. + + You, you, ay, you! + We have done our course; there's money for your pains. + I pray you, turn the key, and keep our counsel. Exit. + EMILIA. Alas, what does this gentleman conceive? + How do you, madam? How do you, my good lady? + DESDEMONA. Faith, half asleep. + EMILIA. Good madam, what's the matter with my lord? + DESDEMONA. With who? + EMILIA. Why, with my lord, madam. + DESDEMONA. Who is thy lord? + EMILIA. He that is yours, sweet lady. + DESDEMONA. I have none. Do not talk to me, Emilia; + I cannot weep, nor answer have I none + But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight + Lay on my bed my wedding sheets. Remember, + And call thy husband hither. + EMILIA. Here's a change indeed! + Exit. + DESDEMONA. 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet. + How have I been behaved, that he might stick + The small'st opinion on my least misuse? + + Re-enter Emilia with Iago. + + IAGO. What is your pleasure, madam? How is't with you? + DESDEMONA. I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes + Do it with gentle means and easy tasks. + He might have chid me so, for in good faith, + I am a child to chiding. + IAGO. What's the matter, lady? + EMILIA. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her, + Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, + As true hearts cannot bear. + DESDEMONA. Am I that name, Iago? + IAGO. What name, fair lady? + DESDEMONA. Such as she says my lord did say I was. + EMILIA. He call'd her whore; a beggar in his drink + Could not have laid such terms upon his callet. + IAGO. Why did he so? + DESDEMONA. I do not know; I am sure I am none such. + IAGO. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day! + EMILIA. Hath she forsook so many noble matches, + Her father and her country and her friends, + To be call'd whore? Would it not make one weep? + DESDEMONA. It is my wretched fortune. + IAGO. Beshrew him for't! + How comes this trick upon him? + DESDEMONA. Nay, heaven doth know. + EMILIA. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain, + Some busy and insinuating rogue, + Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, + Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else. + IAGO. Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible. + DESDEMONA. If any such there be, heaven pardon him! + EMILIA. A halter pardon him! And hell gnaw his bones! + Why should he call her whore? Who keeps her company? + What place? What time? What form? What likelihood? + The Moor's abused by some most villainous knave, + Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. + O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold, + And put in every honest hand a whip + To lash the rascals naked through the world + Even from the east to the west! + IAGO. Speak within door. + EMILIA. O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was + That turn'd your wit the seamy side without, + And made you to suspect me with the Moor. + IAGO. You are a fool; go to. + DESDEMONA. O good Iago, + What shall I do to win my lord again? + Good friend, go to him, for by this light of heaven, + I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: + If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love + Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, + Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, + Delighted them in any other form, + Or that I do not yet, and ever did, + And ever will, though he do shake me off + To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly, + Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much, + And his unkindness may defeat my life, + But never taint my love. I cannot say "whore." + It doth abhor me now I speak the word; + To do the act that might the addition earn + Not the world's mass of vanity could make me. + IAGO. I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humor: + The business of the state does him offense, + And he does chide with you. + DESDEMONA. If 'twere no other- + IAGO. 'Tis but so, I warrant. Trumpets within. + Hark, how these instruments summon to supper! + The messengers of Venice stay the meat. + Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well. + Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. + + Enter Roderigo. + + How now, Roderigo! + RODERIGO. I do not find that thou dealest justly with me. + IAGO. What in the contrary? + RODERIGO. Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; and + rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all conveniency + than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed + no longer endure it; nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace + what already I have foolishly suffered. + IAGO. Will you hear me, Roderigo? + RODERIGO. Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and + performances are no kin together. + IAGO. You charge me most unjustly. + RODERIGO. With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my + means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver to Desdemona + would half have corrupted a votarist. You have told me she hath + received them and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden + respect and acquaintance; but I find none. + IAGO. Well, go to, very well. + RODERIGO. Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis not very + well. By this hand, I say 'tis very scurvy, and begin to find + myself fopped in it. + IAGO. Very well. + RODERIGO. I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself known + to Desdemona. If she will return me my jewels, I will give over + my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation; if not, assure + yourself I will seek satisfaction of you. + IAGO. You have said now. + RODERIGO. Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of + doing. + IAGO. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; and even from this + instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give + me thy hand, Roderigo. Thou hast taken against me a most just + exception; but yet, I protest, have dealt most directly in thy + affair. + RODERIGO. It hath not appeared. + IAGO. I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is + not without wit and judgement. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that + in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than + ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valor, this night show it; if + thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from + this world with treachery and devise engines for my life. + RODERIGO. Well, what is it? Is it within reason and compass? + IAGO. Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to depute + Cassio in Othello's place. + RODERIGO. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona return again + to Venice. + IAGO. O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him the + fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by some + accident; wherein none can be so determinate as the removing of + Cassio. + RODERIGO. How do you mean, removing of him? + IAGO. Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place; knocking out + his brains. + RODERIGO. And that you would have me to do? + IAGO. Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups + tonight with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him. He knows + not yet of his honorable fortune. If you will watch his going + thence, which his will fashion to fall out between twelve and + one, you may take him at your pleasure; I will be near to second + your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not + amazed at it, but go along with me; I will show you such a + necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to put + it on him. It is now high supper-time, and the night grows to + waste. About it. + RODERIGO. I will hear further reason for this. + IAGO. And you shall be satisfied. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE III. +Another room in the castle. + +Enter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, Emilia, and Attendants. + + LODOVICO. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further. + OTHELLO. O, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk. + LODOVICO. Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship. + DESDEMONA. Your honor is most welcome. + OTHELLO. Will you walk, sir? + O- Desdemona- + DESDEMONA. My lord? + OTHELLO. Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned + forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there; look it be done. + DESDEMONA. I will, my lord. + Exeunt Othello, Lodovico, and Attendants. + EMILIA. How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did. + DESDEMONA. He says he will return incontinent. + He hath commanded me to go to bed, + And bade me to dismiss you. + EMILIA. Dismiss me? + DESDEMONA. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia, + Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu. + We must not now displease him. + EMILIA. I would you had never seen him! + DESDEMONA. So would not I. My love doth so approve him, + That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns- + Prithee, unpin me- have grace and favor in them. + EMILIA. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed. + DESDEMONA. All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds! + If I do die before thee, prithee shroud me + In one of those same sheets. + EMILIA. Come, come, you talk. + DESDEMONA. My mother had a maid call'd Barbary; + She was in love, and he she loved proved mad + And did forsake her. She had a song of "willow"; + An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, + And she died singing it. That song tonight + Will not go from my mind; I have much to do + But to go hang my head all at one side + And sing it like poor Barbary. Prithee, dispatch. + EMILIA. Shall I go fetch your nightgown? + DESDEMONA. No, unpin me here. + This Lodovico is a proper man. + EMILIA. A very handsome man. + DESDEMONA. He speaks well. + EMILIA. I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to + Palestine for a touch of his nether lip. + DESDEMONA. [Sings.] + + "The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, + Sing all a green willow; + Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, + Sing willow, willow, willow. + The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans, + Sing willow, willow, willow; + Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones-" + + Lay be these- + + [Sings.] "Sing willow, willow, willow-" + + Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon- + [Sings.] "Sing all a green willow must be my garland. + Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve-" + + Nay, that's not next. Hark, who is't that knocks? + EMILIA. It's the wind. + DESDEMONA. [Sings.] + + "I call'd my love false love; but what said he then? + Sing willow, willow, willow. + If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men-" + + So get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch; + Doth that bode weeping? + EMILIA. 'Tis neither here nor there. + DESDEMONA. I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men! + Dost thou in conscience think- tell me, Emilia- + That there be women do abuse their husbands + In such gross kind? + EMILIA. There be some such, no question. + DESDEMONA. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? + EMILIA. Why, would not you? + DESDEMONA. No, by this heavenly light! + EMILIA. Nor I neither by this heavenly light; I might do't as well + i' the dark. + DESDEMONA. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? + EMILIA. The world's a huge thing; it is a great price + For a small vice. + DESDEMONA. In troth, I think thou wouldst not. + EMILIA. In troth, I think I should, and undo't when I had done. + Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for + measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any + petty exhibition; but, for the whole world- why, who would not + make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should + venture purgatory for't. + DESDEMONA. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong + For the whole world. + EMILIA. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' the world; and having the + world for your labor, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you + might quickly make it right. + DESDEMONA. I do not think there is any such woman. + EMILIA. Yes, a dozen, and as many to the vantage as would store the + world they played for. + But I do think it is their husbands' faults + If wives do fall; say that they slack their duties + And pour our treasures into foreign laps, + Or else break out in peevish jealousies, + Throwing restraint upon us, or say they strike us, + Or scant our former having in despite, + Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace, + Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know + Their wives have sense like them; they see and smell + And have their palates both for sweet and sour, + As husbands have. What is it that they do + When they change us for others? Is it sport? + I think it is. And doth affection breed it? + I think it doth. Is't frailty that thus errs? + It is so too. And have not we affections, + Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? + Then let them use us well; else let them know, + The ills we do, their ills instruct us so. + DESDEMONA. Good night, good night. Heaven me such uses send, + Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Cyprus. A street. + +Enter Iago and Roderigo: + + IAGO. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come. + Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home. + Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow. + It makes us, or it mars us; think on that, + And fix most firm thy resolution. + RODERIGO. Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't. + IAGO. Here, at thy hand, be bold, and take thy stand. + Retires. + RODERIGO. I have no great devotion to the deed; + And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons. + 'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword; he dies. + IAGO. I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense, + And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, + Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, + Every way makes my gain. Live Roderigo, + He calls me to a restitution large + Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him, + As gifts to Desdemona; + It must not be. If Cassio do remain, + He hath a daily beauty in his life + That makes me ugly; and besides, the Moor + May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril. + No, he must die. Be't so. I hear him coming. + + Enter Cassio. + + RODERIGO. I know his gait; 'tis he. Villain, thou diest! + Makes a pass at Cassio. + CASSIO. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed, + But that my coat is better than thou know'st; + I will make proof of thine. Draws, and wounds Roderigo. + RODERIGO. O, I am slain! + Iago from behind wounds Cassio in the leg, and exit. + CASSIO. I am maim'd forever. Help, ho! Murther! Murther! + Falls. + + Enter Othello. + + OTHELLO. The voice of Cassio; Iago keeps his word. + RODERIGO. O, villain that I am! + OTHELLO. It is even so. + CASSIO. O, help, ho! Light! A surgeon! + OTHELLO. 'Tis he. O brave Iago, honest and just, + That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong! + Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead, + And your unblest fate hies. Strumpet, I come! + Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted; + Thy bed lust-stain'd shall with lust's blood be spotted. + Exit. + + Enter Lodovico and Gratiano. + + CASSIO. What, ho! No watch? No passage? Murther! Murther! + GRATIANO. 'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful. + CASSIO. O, help! + LODOVICO. Hark! + RODERIGO. O wretched villain! + LODOVICO. Two or three groan; it is a heavy night. + These may be counterfeits; let's think't unsafe + To come in to the cry without more help. + RODERIGO. Nobody come? Then shall I bleed to death. + LODOVICO. Hark! + + Re-enter Iago, with a light. + + GRATIANO. Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons. + IAGO. Who's there? Whose noise is this that cries on murther? + LODOVICO. We do not know. + IAGO. Did not you hear a cry? + CASSIO. Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me! + IAGO. What's the matter? + GRATIANO. This is Othello's ancient, as I take it. + LODOVICO. The same indeed; a very valiant fellow. + IAGO. What are you here that cry so grievously? + CASSIO. Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains! + Give me some help. + IAGO. O me, lieutenant! What villains have done this? + CASSIO. I think that one of them is hereabout, + And cannot make away. + IAGO. O treacherous villains! + [To Lodovico and Gratiano.] What are you there? + Come in and give some help. + RODERIGO. O, help me here! + CASSIO. That's one of them. + IAGO. O murtherous slave! O villain! + Stabs Roderigo. + RODERIGO. O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog! + IAGO. Kill men i' the dark! Where be these bloody thieves? + How silent is this town! Ho! Murther! Murther! + What may you be? Are you of good or evil? + LODOVICO. As you shall prove us, praise us. + IAGO. Signior Lodovico? + LODOVICO. He, sir. + IAGO. I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains. + GRATIANO. Cassio? + IAGO. How is't, brother? + CASSIO. My leg is cut in two. + IAGO. Marry, heaven forbid! + Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt. + + Enter Bianca. + + BIANCA. What is the matter, ho? Who is't that cried? + IAGO. Who is't that cried? + BIANCA. O my dear Cassio, my sweet Cassio! O Cassio, Cassio, + Cassio! + IAGO. O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect + Who they should be that have thus mangled you? + CASSIO. No. + GRATIANO. I am sorry to find you thus; I have been to seek you. + IAGO. Lend me a garter. So. O, for a chair, + To bear him easily hence! + BIANCA. Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! + IAGO. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash + To be a party in this injury. + Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; + Lend me a light. Know we this face or no? + Alas, my friend and my dear countryman + Roderigo? No- yes, sure. O heaven! Roderigo. + GRATIANO. What, of Venice? + IAGO. Even he, sir. Did you know him? + GRATIANO. Know him! ay. + IAGO. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon; + These bloody accidents must excuse my manners, + That so neglected you. + GRATIANO. I am glad to see you. + IAGO. How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair! + GRATIANO. Roderigo! + IAGO. He, he, 'tis he. [A chair brought in.] O, that's well said: + the chair. + Some good man bear him carefully from hence; + I'll fetch the general's surgeon. [To Bianca.] For you, mistress, + Save you your labor. He that lies slain here, Cassio, + Was my dear friend; what malice was between you? + CASSIO. None in the world; nor do I know the man. + IAGO. [To Bianca.] What, look you pale? O, bear him out o' the air. + Cassio and Roderigo are borne off. + Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress? + Do you perceive the gastness of her eye? + Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon. + Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her. + Do you see, gentlemen? Nay, guiltiness will speak, + Though tongues were out of use. + + Enter Emilia. + + EMILIA. 'Las, what's the matter? What's the matter, husband? + IAGO. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark + By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scaped; + He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead. + EMILIA. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio! + IAGO. This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia, + Go know of Cassio where he supp'd tonight. + What, do you shake at that? + BIANCA. He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not. + IAGO. O, did he so? I charge you, go with me. + EMILIA. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet! + BIANCA. I am no strumpet, but of life as honest + As you that thus abuse me. + EMILIA. As I! foh! fie upon thee! + IAGO. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd. + Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale. + Emilia, run you to the citadel, + And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd! + Will you go on? [Aside.] This is the night + That either makes me or fordoes me quite. Exeunt. + + + + +SCENE II. +A bedchamber in the castle. Desdemona in bed asleep; a light burning. + +Enter Othello. + + OTHELLO. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul. + Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars! + It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood, + Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow + And smooth as monumental alabaster. + Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. + Put out the light, and then put out the light. + If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, + I can again thy former light restore, + Should I repent me; but once put out thy light, + Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, + I know not where is that Promethean heat + That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose, + I cannot give it vital growth again, + It must needs wither; I'll smell it on the tree. Kisses her. + O, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade + Justice to break her sword! One more, one more; + Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, + And love thee after. One more, and this the last; + So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, + But they are cruel tears; this sorrow's heavenly, + It strikes where it doth love. She wakes. + DESDEMONA. Who's there? Othello? + OTHELLO. Ay, Desdemona. + DESDEMONA. Will you come to bed, my lord? + OTHELLO. Have you pray'd tonight, Desdemona? + DESDEMONA. Ay, my lord. + OTHELLO. If you bethink yourself of any crime + Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, + Solicit for it straight. + DESDEMONA. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that? + OTHELLO. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by. + I would not kill thy unprepared spirit. + No, heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul. + DESDEMONA. Talk you of killing? + OTHELLO. Ay, I do. + DESDEMONA. Then heaven have mercy on me! + OTHELLO. Amen, with all my heart! + DESDEMONA. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. + OTHELLO. Hum! + DESDEMONA. And yet I fear you, for you are fatal then + When your eyes roll so. Why I should fear I know not, + Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear. + OTHELLO. Think on thy sins. + DESDEMONA. They are loves I bear to you. + OTHELLO. Ay, and for that thou diest. + DESDEMONA. That death's unnatural that kills for loving. + Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? + Some bloody passion shakes your very frame. + These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, + They do not point on me. + OTHELLO. Peace, and be still! + DESDEMONA. I will so. What's the matter? + OTHELLO. That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee + Thou gavest to Cassio. + DESDEMONA. No, by my life and soul! + Send for the man, and ask him. + OTHELLO. Sweet soul, take heed, + Take heed of perjury; thou are on thy deathbed. + DESDEMONA. Ay, but not yet to die. + OTHELLO. Yes, presently: + Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin, + For to deny each article with oath + Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception + That I do groan withal. Thou art to die. + DESDEMONA. Then Lord have mercy on me! + OTHELLO. I say, amen. + DESDEMONA. And have you mercy too! I never did + Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio + But with such general warranty of heaven + As I might love. I never gave him token. + OTHELLO. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in 's hand. + O perjured woman! Thou dost stone my heart, + And makest me call what I intend to do + A murther, which I thought a sacrifice. + I saw the handkerchief. + DESDEMONA. He found it then; + I never gave it him. Send for him hither; + Let him confess a truth. + OTHELLO. He hath confess'd. + DESDEMONA. What, my lord? + OTHELLO. That he hath used thee. + DESDEMONA. How? unlawfully? + OTHELLO. Ay. + DESDEMONA. He will not say so. + OTHELLO. No, his mouth is stopp'd; + Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't. + DESDEMONA. O, my fear interprets! What, is he dead? + OTHELLO. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge + Had stomach for them all. + DESDEMONA. Alas, he is betray'd, and I undone! + OTHELLO. Out, strumpet! Weep'st thou for him to my face? + DESDEMONA. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not! + OTHELLO. Down, strumpet! + DESDEMONA. Kill me tomorrow; let me live tonight! + OTHELLO. Nay, if you strive- + DESDEMONA. But half an hour! + OTHELLO. Being done, there is no pause. + DESDEMONA. But while I say one prayer! + OTHELLO. It is too late. He stifles her. + EMILIA. [Within.] My lord, my lord! What, ho! my lord, my lord! + OTHELLO. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? + I that am cruel am yet merciful; + I would not have thee linger in thy pain. + So, so. + EMILIA. [Within.] What, ho! my lord, my lord! + OTHELLO. Who's there? + EMILIA. [Within.] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you! + OTHELLO. Yes, 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead. + 'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death. + The noise was here. Ha! no more moving? + Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't good? + I think she stirs again. No. What's best to do? + If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife. + My wife! My wife! What wife? I have no wife. + O, insupportable! O heavy hour! + Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse + Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe + Should yawn at alteration. + EMILIA. [Within.] I do beseech you + That I may speak with you, O, good my lord! + OTHELLO. I had forgot thee. O, come in, Emilia. + Soft, by and by. Let me the curtains draw. + Where art thou? Unlocks the door. + + Enter Emilia. + + What's the matter with thee now? + EMILIA. O, my good lord, yonder's foul murthers done! + OTHELLO. What, now? + EMILIA. But now, my lord. + OTHELLO. It is the very error of the moon; + She comes more nearer earth than she was wont + And makes men mad. + EMILIA. Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian + Call'd Roderigo. + OTHELLO. Roderigo kill'd? + And Cassio kill'd? + EMILIA. No, Cassio is not kill'd. + OTHELLO. Not Cassio kill'd! Then murther's out of tune, + And sweet revenge grows harsh. + DESDEMONA. O, falsely, falsely murther'd! + EMILIA. Alas, what cry is that? + OTHELLO. That? what? + EMILIA. Out, and alas! That was my lady's voice. + Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again! + Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak! + DESDEMONA. A guiltless death I die. + EMILIA. O, who hath done this deed? + DESDEMONA. Nobody; I myself. Farewell; + Commend me to my kind lord. O, farewell! Dies. + OTHELLO. Why, how should she be murther'd? + EMILIA. Alas, who knows? + OTHELLO. You heard her say herself, it was not I. + EMILIA. She said so; I must needs report the truth. + OTHELLO. She's like a liar gone to burning hell; + 'Twas I that kill'd her. + EMILIA. O, the more angel she, + And you the blacker devil! + OTHELLO. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore. + EMILIA. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. + OTHELLO. She was false as water. + EMILIA. Thou art rash as fire, to say + That she was false. O, she was heavenly true! + OTHELLO. Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else. + O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell, + But that I did proceed upon just grounds + To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. + EMILIA. My husband? + OTHELLO. Thy husband. + EMILIA. That she was false to wedlock? + OTHELLO. Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, + If heaven would make me such another world + Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, + I'ld not have sold her for it. + EMILIA. My husband? + OTHELLO. Ay, 'twas he that told me first. + An honest man he is, and hates the slime + That sticks on filthy deeds. + EMILIA. My husband? + OTHELLO. What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband. + EMILIA. O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love! + My husband say that she was false! + OTHELLO. He, woman; + I say thy husband. Dost understand the word? + My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago. + EMILIA. If he say so, may his pernicious soul + Rot half a grain a day! He lies to the heart. + She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. + OTHELLO. Ha! + EMILIA. Do thy worst; + This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven + Than thou wast worthy her. + OTHELLO. Peace, you were best. + EMILIA. Thou hast not half that power to do me harm + As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt! + As ignorant as dirt! Thou hast done a deed- + I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known, + Though I lost twenty lives. Help! help, ho! help! + The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murther, murther! + + Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others. + + MONTANO. What is the matter? How now, general? + EMILIA. O, are you come, Iago? You have done well, + That men must lay their murthers on your neck. + GRATIANO. What is the matter? + EMILIA. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man. + He says thou told'st him that his wife was false; + I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain. + Speak, for my heart is full. + IAGO. I told him what I thought, and told no more + Than what he found himself was apt and true. + EMILIA. But did you ever tell him she was false? + IAGO. I did. + EMILIA. You told a lie, an odious, damned lie; + Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie! + She false with Cassio? Did you say with Cassio? + IAGO. With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue. + EMILIA. I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak. + My mistress here lies murther'd in her bed- + ALL. O heavens forfend! + EMILIA. And your reports have set the murther on. + OTHELLO. Nay, stare not, masters; it is true indeed. + GRATIANO. 'Tis a strange truth. + MONTANO. O monstrous act! + EMILIA. Villainy, villainy, villainy! + I think upon't, I think, I smell't, O villainy! + I thought so then. I'll kill myself for grief. + O villainy, villainy! + IAGO. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home. + EMILIA. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak; + 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now. + Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home. + OTHELLO. O! O! O! Falls on the bed. + EMILIA. Nay, lay thee down and roar; + For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent + That e'er did lift up eye. + OTHELLO. [Rises.] O, she was foul! + I scarce did know you, uncle; there lies your niece, + Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopp'd. + I know this act shows horrible and grim. + GRATIANO. Poor Desdemon! I am glad thy father's dead. + Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief + Shore his old thread in twain; did he live now, + This sight would make him do a desperate turn, + Yea, curse his better angel from his side, + And fall to reprobation. + OTHELLO. 'Tis pitiful, but yet Iago knows + That she with Cassio hath the act of shame + A thousand times committed. Cassio confess'd it, + And she did gratify his amorous works + With that recognizance and pledge of love + Which I first gave her. I saw it in his hand, + It was a handkerchief, an antique token + My father gave my mother. + EMILIA. O heaven! O heavenly powers! + IAGO. 'Zounds! Hold your peace. + EMILIA. 'Twill out, 'twill. I peace? + No, I will speak as liberal as the north; + Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, + All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. + IAGO. Be wise, and get you home. + EMILIA. I will not. + Iago offers to stab Emilia. + GRATIANO. Fie! + Your sword upon a woman? + EMILIA. O thou dull Moor! That handkerchief thou speak'st of + I found by fortune and did give my husband, + For often with a solemn earnestness, + More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle, + He begg'd of me to steal it. + IAGO. Villainous whore! + EMILIA. She give it Cassio? No, alas, I found it, + And I did give't my husband. + IAGO. Filth, thou liest! + EMILIA. By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen. + O murtherous coxcomb! What should such a fool + Do with so good a wife? + OTHELLO. Are there not stones in heaven + But what serve for thunder? Precious villain! + He runs at Iago, but Montano + disarms him. Iago stabs Emilia. + GRATIANO. The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife. + EMILIA. Ay, ay! O, lay me by my mistress' side. Exit Iago. + GRATIANO. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd. + MONTANO. 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon, + Which I have here recover'd from the Moor. + Come, guard the door without; let him not pass, + But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain, + For 'tis a damned slave. Exeunt all but Othello and Emilia. + OTHELLO. I am not valiant neither, + But every puny whipster gets my sword. + But why should honor outlive honesty? + Let it go all. + EMILIA. What did thy song bode, lady? + Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan, + And die in music. [Sings.] "Willow, willow, willow." + Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor; + So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; + So speaking as I think, I die, I die. Dies. + OTHELLO. I have another weapon in this chamber; + It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper- + O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth. + GRATIANO. [Within.] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear. + Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. + OTHELLO. Look in upon me then, and speak with me, + Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee. + + Re-enter Gratiano. + + GRATIANO. What is the matter? + OTHELLO. Behold, I have a weapon; + A better never did itself sustain + Upon a soldier's thigh. I have seen the day + That with this little arm and this good sword + I have made my way through more impediments + Than twenty times your stop. But, O vain boast! + Who can control his fate? 'Tis not so now. + Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd; + Here is my journey's end, here is my butt + And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. + Do you go back dismay'd? 'Tis a lost fear. + Man but a rush against Othello's breast, + And he retires. Where should Othello go? + Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench! + Pale as thy smock! When we shall meet at compt, + This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, + And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl? + Even like thy chastity. O cursed, cursed slave! + Whip me, ye devils, + From the possession of this heavenly sight! + Blow me about in winds! Roast me in sulphur! + Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! + O Desdemon! dead, Desdemon! dead! + O! O! O! + + Enter Lodovico, Montano, Cassio carried in a chair, + and Officers with Iago, prisoner. + + LODOVICO. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? + OTHELLO. That's he that was Othello. Here I am. + LODOVICO. Where is that viper? Bring the villain forth. + OTHELLO. I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable. + If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee. Wounds Iago. + LODOVICO. Wrench his sword from him. + IAGO. I bleed, sir, but not kill'd. + OTHELLO. I am not sorry neither. I'ld have thee live, + For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. + LODOVICO. O thou Othello, that wert once so good, + Fall'n in the practice of a damned slave, + What shall be said to thee? + OTHELLO. Why, anything; + An honorable murtherer, if you will, + For nought did I in hate, but all in honor. + LODOVICO. This wretch hath part confess'd his villainy. + Did you and he consent in Cassio's death? + OTHELLO. Ay. + CASSIO. Dear general, I never gave you cause. + OTHELLO. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. + Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil + Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body? + IAGO. Demand me nothing; what you know, you know. + From this time forth I never will speak word. + LODOVICO. What, not to pray? + GRATIANO. Torments will ope your lips. + OTHELLO. Well, thou dost best. + LODOVICO. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n, + Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter + Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo, + And here another. The one of them imports + The death of Cassio to be undertook + By Roderigo. + OTHELLO. O villain! + CASSIO. Most heathenish and most gross! + LODOVICO. Now here's another discontented paper, + Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems, + Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain; + But that, belike, Iago in the interim + Came in and satisfied him. + OTHELLO. O the pernicious caitiff! + How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief + That was my wife's? + CASSIO. I found it in my chamber; + And he himself confess'd but even now + That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose + Which wrought to his desire. + OTHELLO. O fool! fool! fool! + CASSIO. There is besides in Roderigo's letter, + How he upbraids Iago, that he made him + Brave me upon the watch, whereon it came + That I was cast. And even but now he spake + After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him, + Iago set him on. + LODOVICO. You must forsake this room, and go with us. + Your power and your command is taken off, + And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, + If there be any cunning cruelty + That can torment him much and hold him long, + It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest, + Till that the nature of your fault be known + To the Venetian state. Come, bring away. + OTHELLO. Soft you; a word or two before you go. + I have done the state some service, and they know't. + No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, + When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, + Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, + Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak + Of one that loved not wisely but too well; + Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought, + Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand, + Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away + Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes, + Albeit unused to the melting mood, + Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees + Their medicinal gum. Set you down this; + And say besides, that in Aleppo once, + Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk + Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, + I took by the throat the circumcised dog + And smote him, thus. Stabs himself. + LODOVICO. O bloody period! + GRATIANO. All that's spoke is marr'd. + OTHELLO. I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee. No way but this, + Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. + Falls on the bed, and dies. + CASSIO. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon; + For he was great of heart. + LODOVICO. [To Iago.] O Spartan dog, + More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! + Look on the tragic loading of this bed; + This is thy work. The object poisons sight; + Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house, + And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, + For they succeed on you. To you, Lord Governor, + Remains the censure of this hellish villain, + The time, the place, the torture. O, enforce it! + Myself will straight aboard, and to the state + This heavy act with heavy heart relate. Exeunt. + + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1596 + + +KING RICHARD THE SECOND + + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + KING RICHARD THE SECOND + JOHN OF GAUNT, Duke of Lancaster - uncle to the King + EDMUND LANGLEY, Duke of York - uncle to the King + HENRY, surnamed BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford, son of + John of Gaunt, afterwards King Henry IV + DUKE OF AUMERLE, son of the Duke of York + THOMAS MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk + DUKE OF SURREY + EARL OF SALISBURY + EARL BERKELEY + BUSHY - favourites of King Richard + BAGOT - " " " " + GREEN - " " " " + EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND + HENRY PERCY, surnamed HOTSPUR, his son + LORD Ross LORD WILLOUGHBY + LORD FITZWATER BISHOP OF CARLISLE + ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER LORD MARSHAL + SIR STEPHEN SCROOP SIR PIERCE OF EXTON + CAPTAIN of a band of Welshmen TWO GARDENERS + + QUEEN to King Richard + DUCHESS OF YORK + DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER, widow of Thomas of Woodstock, + Duke of Gloucester + LADY attending on the Queen + + Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Keeper, Messenger, + Groom, and other Attendants + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +England and Wales + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +London. The palace + +Enter RICHARD, JOHN OF GAUNT, with other NOBLES and attendants + + KING RICHARD. Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster, + Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, + Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son, + Here to make good the boist'rous late appeal, + Which then our leisure would not let us hear, + Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? + GAUNT. I have, my liege. + KING RICHARD. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him + If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice, + Or worthily, as a good subject should, + On some known ground of treachery in him? + GAUNT. As near as I could sift him on that argument, + On some apparent danger seen in him + Aim'd at your Highness-no inveterate malice. + KING RICHARD. Then call them to our presence: face to face + And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear + The accuser and the accused freely speak. + High-stomach'd are they both and full of ire, + In rage, deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. + + Enter BOLINGBROKE and MOWBRAY + + BOLINGBROKE. Many years of happy days befall + My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! + MOWBRAY. Each day still better other's happiness + Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, + Add an immortal title to your crown! + KING RICHARD. We thank you both; yet one but flatters us, + As well appeareth by the cause you come; + Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. + Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object + Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? + BOLINGBROKE. First-heaven be the record to my speech! + In the devotion of a subject's love, + Tend'ring the precious safety of my prince, + And free from other misbegotten hate, + Come I appellant to this princely presence. + Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, + And mark my greeting well; for what I speak + My body shall make good upon this earth, + Or my divine soul answer it in heaven- + Thou art a traitor and a miscreant, + Too good to be so, and too bad to live, + Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, + The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. + Once more, the more to aggravate the note, + With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; + And wish-so please my sovereign-ere I move, + What my tongue speaks, my right drawn sword may prove. + MOWBRAY. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal. + 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, + The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, + Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain; + The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this. + Yet can I not of such tame patience boast + As to be hush'd and nought at an to say. + First, the fair reverence of your Highness curbs me + From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; + Which else would post until it had return'd + These terms of treason doubled down his throat. + Setting aside his high blood's royalty, + And let him be no kinsman to my liege, + I do defy him, and I spit at him, + Call him a slanderous coward and a villain; + Which to maintain, I would allow him odds + And meet him, were I tied to run afoot + Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, + Or any other ground inhabitable + Where ever Englishman durst set his foot. + Meantime let this defend my loyalty- + By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie + BOLINGBROKE. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, + Disclaiming here the kindred of the King; + And lay aside my high blood's royalty, + Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except. + If guilty dread have left thee so much strength + As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop. + By that and all the rites of knighthood else + Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, + What I have spoke or thou canst worst devise. + MOWBRAY. I take it up; and by that sword I swear + Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder + I'll answer thee in any fair degree + Or chivalrous design of knightly trial; + And when I mount, alive may I not light + If I be traitor or unjustly fight! + KING RICHARD. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge? + It must be great that can inherit us + So much as of a thought of ill in him. + BOLINGBROKE. Look what I speak, my life shall prove it true- + That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles + In name of lendings for your Highness' soldiers, + The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments + Like a false traitor and injurious villain. + Besides, I say and will in battle prove- + Or here, or elsewhere to the furthest verge + That ever was survey'd by English eye- + That all the treasons for these eighteen years + Complotted and contrived in this land + Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. + Further I say, and further will maintain + Upon his bad life to make all this good, + That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death, + Suggest his soon-believing adversaries, + And consequently, like a traitor coward, + Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of blood; + Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, + Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, + To me for justice and rough chastisement; + And, by the glorious worth of my descent, + This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. + KING RICHARD. How high a pitch his resolution soars! + Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? + MOWBRAY. O, let my sovereign turn away his face + And bid his ears a little while be deaf, + Till I have told this slander of his blood + How God and good men hate so foul a liar. + KING RICHARD. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and cars. + Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, + As he is but my father's brother's son, + Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow, + Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood + Should nothing privilege him nor partialize + The unstooping firmness of my upright soul. + He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou: + Free speech and fearless I to thee allow. + MOWBRAY. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, + Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest. + Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais + Disburs'd I duly to his Highness' soldiers; + The other part reserv'd I by consent, + For that my sovereign liege was in my debt + Upon remainder of a dear account + Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: + Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death- + I slew him not, but to my own disgrace + Neglected my sworn duty in that case. + For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster, + The honourable father to my foe, + Once did I lay an ambush for your life, + A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul; + But ere I last receiv'd the sacrament + I did confess it, and exactly begg'd + Your Grace's pardon; and I hope I had it. + This is my fault. As for the rest appeal'd, + It issues from the rancour of a villain, + A recreant and most degenerate traitor; + Which in myself I boldly will defend, + And interchangeably hurl down my gage + Upon this overweening traitor's foot + To prove myself a loyal gentleman + Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. + In haste whereof, most heartily I pray + Your Highness to assign our trial day. + KING RICHARD. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by me; + Let's purge this choler without letting blood- + This we prescribe, though no physician; + Deep malice makes too deep incision. + Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed: + Our doctors say this is no month to bleed. + Good uncle, let this end where it begun; + We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son. + GAUNT. To be a make-peace shall become my age. + Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage. + KING RICHARD. And, Norfolk, throw down his. + GAUNT. When, Harry, when? + Obedience bids I should not bid again. + KING RICHARD. Norfolk, throw down; we bid. + There is no boot. + MOWBRAY. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot; + My life thou shalt command, but not my shame: + The one my duty owes; but my fair name, + Despite of death, that lives upon my grave + To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. + I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffl'd here; + Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear, + The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood + Which breath'd this poison. + KING RICHARD. Rage must be withstood: + Give me his gage-lions make leopards tame. + MOWBRAY. Yea, but not change his spots. Take but my shame, + And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, + The purest treasure mortal times afford + Is spotless reputation; that away, + Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. + A jewel in a ten-times barr'd-up chest + Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. + Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; + Take honour from me, and my life is done: + Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; + In that I live, and for that will I die. + KING RICHARD. Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin. + BOLINGBROKE. O, God defend my soul from such deep sin! + Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight? + Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height + Before this outdar'd dastard? Ere my tongue + Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong + Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear + The slavish motive of recanting fear, + And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, + Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. + Exit GAUNT + KING RICHARD. We were not born to sue, but to command; + Which since we cannot do to make you friends, + Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, + At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day. + There shall your swords and lances arbitrate + The swelling difference of your settled hate; + Since we can not atone you, we shall see + Justice design the victor's chivalry. + Lord Marshal, command our officers-at-arms + Be ready to direct these home alarms. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. +London. The DUKE OF LANCASTER'S palace + +Enter JOHN OF GAUNT with the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER + + GAUNT. Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood + Doth more solicit me than your exclaims + To stir against the butchers of his life! + But since correction lieth in those hands + Which made the fault that we cannot correct, + Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; + Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, + Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. + DUCHESS. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? + Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? + Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, + Were as seven vials of his sacred blood, + Or seven fair branches springing from one root. + Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, + Some of those branches by the Destinies cut; + But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester, + One vial full of Edward's sacred blood, + One flourishing branch of his most royal root, + Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; + Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, + By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe. + Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! That bed, that womb, + That mettle, that self mould, that fashion'd thee, + Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest, + Yet art thou slain in him. Thou dost consent + In some large measure to thy father's death + In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, + Who was the model of thy father's life. + Call it not patience, Gaunt-it is despair; + In suff'ring thus thy brother to be slaught'red, + Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, + Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee. + That which in mean men we entitle patience + Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. + What shall I say? To safeguard thine own life + The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death. + GAUNT. God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute, + His deputy anointed in His sight, + Hath caus'd his death; the which if wrongfully, + Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift + An angry arm against His minister. + DUCHESS. Where then, alas, may I complain myself? + GAUNT. To God, the widow's champion and defence. + DUCHESS. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. + Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold + Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight. + O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, + That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! + Or, if misfortune miss the first career, + Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom + That they may break his foaming courser's back + And throw the rider headlong in the lists, + A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! + Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometimes brother's wife, + With her companion, Grief, must end her life. + GAUNT. Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry. + As much good stay with thee as go with me! + DUCHESS. Yet one word more- grief boundeth where it falls, + Not with the empty hollowness, but weight. + I take my leave before I have begun, + For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. + Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York. + Lo, this is all- nay, yet depart not so; + Though this be all, do not so quickly go; + I shall remember more. Bid him- ah, what?- + With all good speed at Plashy visit me. + Alack, and what shall good old York there see + But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, + Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? + And what hear there for welcome but my groans? + Therefore commend me; let him not come there + To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. + Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die; + The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. +The lists at Coventry + +Enter the LORD MARSHAL and the DUKE OF AUMERLE + + MARSHAL. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? + AUMERLE. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in. + MARSHAL. The Duke of Norfolk, spightfully and bold, + Stays but the summons of the appelant's trumpet. + AUMERLE. Why then, the champions are prepar'd, and stay + For nothing but his Majesty's approach. + + The trumpets sound, and the KING enters with his nobles, + GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT, GREEN, and others. When they are set, + enter MOWBRAY, Duke of Nor folk, in arms, defendant, and + a HERALD + + KING RICHARD. Marshal, demand of yonder champion + The cause of his arrival here in arms; + Ask him his name; and orderly proceed + To swear him in the justice of his cause. + MARSHAL. In God's name and the King's, say who thou art, + And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms; + Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel. + Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath; + As so defend thee heaven and thy valour! + MOWBRAY. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk; + Who hither come engaged by my oath- + Which God defend a knight should violate!- + Both to defend my loyalty and truth + To God, my King, and my succeeding issue, + Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me; + And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, + To prove him, in defending of myself, + A traitor to my God, my King, and me. + And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! + + The trumpets sound. Enter BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford, + appellant, in armour, and a HERALD + + KING RICHARD. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, + Both who he is and why he cometh hither + Thus plated in habiliments of war; + And formally, according to our law, + Depose him in the justice of his cause. + MARSHAL. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st thou hither + Before King Richard in his royal lists? + Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel? + Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! + BOLINGBROKE. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, + Am I; who ready here do stand in arms + To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour, + In lists on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, + That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous, + To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me. + And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! + MARSHAL. On pain of death, no person be so bold + Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, + Except the Marshal and such officers + Appointed to direct these fair designs. + BOLINGBROKE. Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, + And bow my knee before his Majesty; + For Mowbray and myself are like two men + That vow a long and weary pilgrimage. + Then let us take a ceremonious leave + And loving farewell of our several friends. + MARSHAL. The appellant in all duty greets your Highness, + And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave. + KING RICHARD. We will descend and fold him in our arms. + Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, + So be thy fortune in this royal fight! + Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, + Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. + BOLINGBROKE. O, let no noble eye profane a tear + For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear. + As confident as is the falcon's flight + Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. + My loving lord, I take my leave of you; + Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; + Not sick, although I have to do with death, + But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. + Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet + The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. + O thou, the earthly author of my blood, + Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, + Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up + To reach at victory above my head, + Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers, + And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, + That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat + And furbish new the name of John o' Gaunt, + Even in the lusty haviour of his son. + GAUNT. God in thy good cause make thee prosperous! + Be swift like lightning in the execution, + And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, + Fall like amazing thunder on the casque + Of thy adverse pernicious enemy. + Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live. + BOLINGBROKE. Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive! + MOWBRAY. However God or fortune cast my lot, + There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne, + A loyal, just, and upright gentleman. + Never did captive with a freer heart + Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace + His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, + More than my dancing soul doth celebrate + This feast of battle with mine adversary. + Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, + Take from my mouth the wish of happy years. + As gentle and as jocund as to jest + Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast. + KING RICHARD. Farewell, my lord, securely I espy + Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. + Order the trial, Marshal, and begin. + MARSHAL. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, + Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! + BOLINGBROKE. Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen. + MARSHAL. [To an officer] Go bear this lance to Thomas, + Duke of Norfolk. + FIRST HERALD. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, + Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, + On pain to be found false and recreant, + To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, + A traitor to his God, his King, and him; + And dares him to set forward to the fight. + SECOND HERALD. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, + On pain to be found false and recreant, + Both to defend himself, and to approve + Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, + To God, his sovereign, and to him disloyal, + Courageously and with a free desire + Attending but the signal to begin. + MARSHAL. Sound trumpets; and set forward, combatants. + [A charge sounded] + Stay, the King hath thrown his warder down. + KING RICHARD. Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, + And both return back to their chairs again. + Withdraw with us; and let the trumpets sound + While we return these dukes what we decree. + + A long flourish, while the KING consults his Council + + Draw near, + And list what with our council we have done. + For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd + With that dear blood which it hath fostered; + And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect + Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword; + And for we think the eagle-winged pride + Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, + With rival-hating envy, set on you + To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle + Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; + Which so rous'd up with boist'rous untun'd drums, + With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, + And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, + Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace + And make us wade even in our kindred's blood- + Therefore we banish you our territories. + You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life, + Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields + Shall not regreet our fair dominions, + But tread the stranger paths of banishment. + BOLINGBROKE. Your will be done. This must my comfort be- + That sun that warms you here shall shine on me, + And those his golden beams to you here lent + Shall point on me and gild my banishment. + KING RICHARD. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, + Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: + The sly slow hours shall not determinate + The dateless limit of thy dear exile; + The hopeless word of 'never to return' + Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. + MOWBRAY. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, + And all unlook'd for from your Highness' mouth. + A dearer merit, not so deep a maim + As to be cast forth in the common air, + Have I deserved at your Highness' hands. + The language I have learnt these forty years, + My native English, now I must forgo; + And now my tongue's use is to me no more + Than an unstringed viol or a harp; + Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up + Or, being open, put into his hands + That knows no touch to tune the harmony. + Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, + Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips; + And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance + Is made my gaoler to attend on me. + I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, + Too far in years to be a pupil now. + What is thy sentence, then, but speechless death, + Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? + KING RICHARD. It boots thee not to be compassionate; + After our sentence plaining comes too late. + MOWBRAY. Then thus I turn me from my countrv's light, + To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. + KING RICHARD. Return again, and take an oath with thee. + Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; + Swear by the duty that you owe to God, + Our part therein we banish with yourselves, + To keep the oath that we administer: + You never shall, so help you truth and God, + Embrace each other's love in banishment; + Nor never look upon each other's face; + Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile + This louring tempest of your home-bred hate; + Nor never by advised purpose meet + To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, + 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. + BOLINGBROKE. I swear. + MOWBRAY. And I, to keep all this. + BOLINGBROKE. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy. + By this time, had the King permitted us, + One of our souls had wand'red in the air, + Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, + As now our flesh is banish'd from this land- + Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm; + Since thou hast far to go, bear not along + The clogging burden of a guilty soul. + MOWBRAY. No, Bolingbroke; if ever I were traitor, + My name be blotted from the book of life, + And I from heaven banish'd as from hence! + But what thou art, God, thou, and I, do know; + And all too soon, I fear, the King shall rue. + Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray: + Save back to England, an the world's my way. Exit + KING RICHARD. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes + I see thy grieved heart. Thy sad aspect + Hath from the number of his banish'd years + Pluck'd four away. [To BOLINGBROKE] Six frozen winters spent, + Return with welcome home from banishment. + BOLINGBROKE. How long a time lies in one little word! + Four lagging winters and four wanton springs + End in a word: such is the breath of Kings. + GAUNT. I thank my liege that in regard of me + He shortens four years of my son's exile; + But little vantage shall I reap thereby, + For ere the six years that he hath to spend + Can change their moons and bring their times about, + My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light + Shall be extinct with age and endless night; + My inch of taper will be burnt and done, + And blindfold death not let me see my son. + KING RICHARD. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live. + GAUNT. But not a minute, King, that thou canst give: + Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow + And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow; + Thou can'st help time to furrow me with age, + But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage; + Thy word is current with him for my death, + But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. + KING RICHARD. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, + Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave. + Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour? + GAUNT. Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. + You urg'd me as a judge; but I had rather + You would have bid me argue like a father. + O, had it been a stranger, not my child, + To smooth his fault I should have been more mild. + A partial slander sought I to avoid, + And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. + Alas, I look'd when some of you should say + I was too strict to make mine own away; + But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue + Against my will to do myself this wrong. + KING RICHARD. Cousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid him so. + Six years we banish him, and he shall go. + Flourish. Exit KING with train + AUMERLE. Cousin, farewell; what presence must not know, + From where you do remain let paper show. + MARSHAL. My lord, no leave take I, for I will ride + As far as land will let me by your side. + GAUNT. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, + That thou returnest no greeting to thy friends? + BOLINGBROKE. I have too few to take my leave of you, + When the tongue's office should be prodigal + To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. + GAUNT. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. + BOLINGBROKE. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. + GAUNT. What is six winters? They are quickly gone. + BOLINGBROKE. To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten. + GAUNT. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure. + BOLINGBROKE. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, + Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage. + GAUNT. The sullen passage of thy weary steps + Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set + The precious jewel of thy home return. + BOLINGBROKE. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make + Will but remember me what a deal of world + I wander from the jewels that I love. + Must I not serve a long apprenticehood + To foreign passages; and in the end, + Having my freedom, boast of nothing else + But that I was a journeyman to grief? + GAUNT. All places that the eye of heaven visits + Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. + Teach thy necessity to reason thus: + There is no virtue like necessity. + Think not the King did banish thee, + But thou the King. Woe doth the heavier sit + Where it perceives it is but faintly home. + Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, + And not the King exil'd thee; or suppose + Devouring pestilence hangs in our air + And thou art flying to a fresher clime. + Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it + To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com'st. + Suppose the singing birds musicians, + The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, + The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more + Than a delightful measure or a dance; + For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite + The man that mocks at it and sets it light. + BOLINGBROKE. O, who can hold a fire in his hand + By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? + Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite + By bare imagination of a feast? + Or wallow naked in December snow + By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? + O, no! the apprehension of the good + Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. + Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more + Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore. + GAUNT. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way. + Had I thy youtli and cause, I would not stay. + BOLINGBROKE. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; + My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! + Where'er I wander, boast of this I can: + Though banish'd, yet a trueborn English man. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. +London. The court + +Enter the KING, with BAGOT and GREEN, at one door; +and the DUKE OF AUMERLE at another + + KING RICHARD. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, + How far brought you high Hereford on his way? + AUMERLE. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, + But to the next high way, and there I left him. + KING RICHARD. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? + AUMERLE. Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind, + Which then blew bitterly against our faces, + Awak'd the sleeping rheum, and so by chance + Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. + KING RICHARD. What said our cousin when you parted with him? + AUMERLE. 'Farewell.' + And, for my heart disdained that my tongue + Should so profane the word, that taught me craft + To counterfeit oppression of such grief + That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. + Marry, would the word 'farewell' have length'ned hours + And added years to his short banishment, + He should have had a volume of farewells; + But since it would not, he had none of me. + KING RICHARD. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, + When time shall call him home from banishment, + Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. + Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, + Observ'd his courtship to the common people; + How he did seem to dive into their hearts + With humble and familiar courtesy; + What reverence he did throw away on slaves, + Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles + And patient underbearing of his fortune, + As 'twere to banish their affects with him. + Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; + A brace of draymen bid God speed him well + And had the tribute of his supple knee, + With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends'; + As were our England in reversion his, + And he our subjects' next degree in hope. + GREEN. Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts! + Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, + Expedient manage must be made, my liege, + Ere further leisure yicld them further means + For their advantage and your Highness' loss. + KING RICHARD. We will ourself in person to this war; + And, for our coffers, with too great a court + And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, + We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm; + The revenue whereof shall furnish us + For our affairs in hand. If that come short, + Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; + Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, + They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, + And send them after to supply our wants; + For we will make for Ireland presently. + + Enter BUSHY + + Bushy, what news? + BUSHY. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord, + Suddenly taken; and hath sent poste-haste + To entreat your Majesty to visit him. + KING RICHARD. Where lies he? + BUSHY. At Ely House. + KING RICHARD. Now put it, God, in the physician's mind + To help him to his grave immediately! + The lining of his coffers shall make coats + To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. + Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him. + Pray God we may make haste, and come too late! + ALL. Amen. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +London. Ely House + +Enter JOHN OF GAUNT, sick, with the DUKE OF YORK, etc. + + GAUNT. Will the King come, that I may breathe my last + In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth? + YORK. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath; + For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. + GAUNT. O, but they say the tongues of dying men + Enforce attention like deep harmony. + Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain; + For they breathe truth that breathe their words -in pain. + He that no more must say is listen'd more + Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose; + More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before. + The setting sun, and music at the close, + As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, + Writ in remembrance more than things long past. + Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, + My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. + YORK. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, + As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond, + Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound + The open ear of youth doth always listen; + Report of fashions in proud Italy, + Whose manners still our tardy apish nation + Limps after in base imitation. + Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity- + So it be new, there's no respect how vile- + That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears? + Then all too late comes counsel to be heard + Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. + Direct not him whose way himself will choose. + 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose. + GAUNT. Methinks I am a prophet new inspir'd, + And thus expiring do foretell of him: + His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, + For violent fires soon burn out themselves; + Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; + He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; + With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder; + Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, + Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. + This royal throne of kings, this scept'red isle, + This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, + This other Eden, demi-paradise, + This fortress built by Nature for herself + Against infection and the hand of war, + This happy breed of men, this little world, + This precious stone set in the silver sea, + Which serves it in the office of a wall, + Or as a moat defensive to a house, + Against the envy of less happier lands; + This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, + This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, + Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth, + Renowned for their deeds as far from home, + For Christian service and true chivalry, + As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry + Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son; + This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, + Dear for her reputation through the world, + Is now leas'd out-I die pronouncing it- + Like to a tenement or pelting farm. + England, bound in with the triumphant sea, + Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege + Of wat'ry Neptune, is now bound in with shame, + With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds; + That England, that was wont to conquer others, + Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. + Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life, + How happy then were my ensuing death! + + Enter KING and QUEEN, AUMERLE, BUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, + Ross, and WILLOUGHBY + + YORK. The King is come; deal mildly with his youth, + For young hot colts being rag'd do rage the more. + QUEEN. How fares our noble uncle Lancaster? + KING RICHARD. What comfort, man? How is't with aged Gaunt? + GAUNT. O, how that name befits my composition! + Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old. + Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; + And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt? + For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; + Watching breeds leanness, leanness is an gaunt. + The pleasure that some fathers feed upon + Is my strict fast-I mean my children's looks; + And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt. + Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, + Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. + KING RICHARD. Can sick men play so nicely with their names? + GAUNT. No, misery makes sport to mock itself: + Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, + I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. + KING RICHARD. Should dying men flatter with those that live? + GAUNT. No, no; men living flatter those that die. + KING RICHARD. Thou, now a-dying, sayest thou flatterest me. + GAUNT. O, no! thou diest, though I the sicker be. + KING RICHARD. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. + GAUNT. Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; + Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. + Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land + Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; + And thou, too careless patient as thou art, + Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure + Of those physicians that first wounded thee: + A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, + Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; + And yet, incaged in so small a verge, + The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. + O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye + Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, + From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, + Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, + Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. + Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, + It were a shame to let this land by lease; + But for thy world enjoying but this land, + Is it not more than shame to shame it so? + Landlord of England art thou now, not King. + Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; + And thou- + KING RICHARD. A lunatic lean-witted fool, + Presuming on an ague's privilege, + Darest with thy frozen admonition + Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood + With fury from his native residence. + Now by my seat's right royal majesty, + Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, + This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head + Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. + GAUNT. O, Spare me not, my brother Edward's son, + For that I was his father Edward's son; + That blood already, like the pelican, + Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd. + My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul- + Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls!- + May be a precedent and witness good + That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood. + Join with the present sickness that I have; + And thy unkindness be like crooked age, + To crop at once a too long withered flower. + Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee! + These words hereafter thy tormentors be! + Convey me to my bed, then to my grave. + Love they to live that love and honour have. + Exit, borne out by his attendants + KING RICHARD. And let them die that age and sullens have; + For both hast thou, and both become the grave. + YORK. I do beseech your Majesty impute his words + To wayward sickliness and age in him. + He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear + As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here. + KING RICHARD. Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his; + As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. + + Enter NORTHUMBERLAND + + NORTHUMBERLAND. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your Majesty. + KING RICHARD. What says he? + NORTHUMBERLAND. Nay, nothing; all is said. + His tongue is now a stringless instrument; + Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. + YORK. Be York the next that must be bankrupt so! + Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. + KING RICHARD. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; + His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be. + So much for that. Now for our Irish wars. + We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns, + Which live like venom where no venom else + But only they have privilege to live. + And for these great affairs do ask some charge, + Towards our assistance we do seize to us + The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables, + Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. + YORK. How long shall I be patient? Ah, how long + Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? + Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment, + Nor Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, + Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke + About his marriage, nor my own disgrace, + Have ever made me sour my patient cheek + Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. + I am the last of noble Edward's sons, + Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first. + In war was never lion rag'd more fierce, + In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, + Than was that young and princely gentleman. + His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, + Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours; + But when he frown'd, it was against the French + And not against his friends. His noble hand + Did win what he did spend, and spent not that + Which his triumphant father's hand had won. + His hands were guilty of no kindred blood, + But bloody with the enemies of his kin. + O Richard! York is too far gone with grief, + Or else he never would compare between- + KING RICHARD. Why, uncle, what's the matter? + YORK. O my liege, + Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleas'd + Not to be pardoned, am content withal. + Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands + The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford? + Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Hereford live? + Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true? + Did not the one deserve to have an heir? + Is not his heir a well-deserving son? + Take Hereford's rights away, and take from Time + His charters and his customary rights; + Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day; + Be not thyself-for how art thou a king + But by fair sequence and succession? + Now, afore God-God forbid I say true!- + If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, + Call in the letters patents that he hath + By his attorneys-general to sue + His livery, and deny his off'red homage, + You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, + You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, + And prick my tender patience to those thoughts + Which honour and allegiance cannot think. + KING RICHARD. Think what you will, we seize into our hands + His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. + YORK. I'll not be by the while. My liege, farewell. + What will ensue hereof there's none can tell; + But by bad courses may be understood + That their events can never fall out good. Exit + KING RICHARD. Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight; + Bid him repair to us to Ely House + To see this business. To-morrow next + We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow. + And we create, in absence of ourself, + Our Uncle York Lord Governor of England; + For he is just, and always lov'd us well. + Come on, our queen; to-morrow must we part; + Be merry, for our time of stay is short. + Flourish. Exeunt KING, QUEEN, BUSHY, AUMERLE, + GREEN, and BAGOT + NORTHUMBERLAND. Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. + Ross. And living too; for now his son is Duke. + WILLOUGHBY. Barely in title, not in revenues. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Richly in both, if justice had her right. + ROSS. My heart is great; but it must break with silence, + Ere't be disburdened with a liberal tongue. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more + That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! + WILLOUGHBY. Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford? + If it be so, out with it boldly, man; + Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. + ROSS. No good at all that I can do for him; + Unless you call it good to pity him, + Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne + In him, a royal prince, and many moe + Of noble blood in this declining land. + The King is not himself, but basely led + By flatterers; and what they will inform, + Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us an, + That will the King severely prosecute + 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. + ROSS. The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes; + And quite lost their hearts; the nobles hath he find + For ancient quarrels and quite lost their hearts. + WILLOUGHBY. And daily new exactions are devis'd, + As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what; + But what, a God's name, doth become of this? + NORTHUMBERLAND. Wars hath not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not, + But basely yielded upon compromise + That which his noble ancestors achiev'd with blows. + More hath he spent in peace than they in wars. + ROSS. The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. + WILLOUGHBY. The King's grown bankrupt like a broken man. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him. + ROSS. He hath not money for these Irish wars, + His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, + But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke. + NORTHUMBERLAND. His noble kinsman-most degenerate king! + But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, + Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm; + We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, + And yet we strike not, but securely perish. + ROSS. We see the very wreck that we must suffer; + And unavoided is the danger now + For suffering so the causes of our wreck. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Not so; even through the hollow eyes of death + I spy life peering; but I dare not say + How near the tidings of our comfort is. + WILLOUGHBY. Nay, let us share thy thoughts as thou dost ours. + ROSS. Be confident to speak, Northumberland. + We three are but thyself, and, speaking so, + Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore be bold. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Then thus: I have from Le Port Blanc, a bay + In Brittany, receiv'd intelligence + That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham, + That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, + His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury, + Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, + Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Quoint- + All these, well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine, + With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war, + Are making hither with all due expedience, + And shortly mean to touch our northern shore. + Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay + The first departing of the King for Ireland. + If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke, + Imp out our drooping country's broken wing, + Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown, + Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt, + And make high majesty look like itself, + Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh; + But if you faint, as fearing to do so, + Stay and be secret, and myself will go. + ROSS. To horse, to horse! Urge doubts to them that fear. + WILLOUGHBY. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. +Windsor Castle + +Enter QUEEN, BUSHY, and BAGOT + + BUSHY. Madam, your Majesty is too much sad. + You promis'd, when you parted with the King, + To lay aside life-harming heaviness + And entertain a cheerful disposition. + QUEEN. To please the King, I did; to please myself + I cannot do it; yet I know no cause + Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, + Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest + As my sweet Richard. Yet again methinks + Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, + Is coming towards me, and my inward soul + With nothing trembles. At some thing it grieves + More than with parting from my lord the King. + BUSHY. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, + Which shows like grief itself, but is not so; + For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, + Divides one thing entire to many objects, + Like perspectives which, rightly gaz'd upon, + Show nothing but confusion-ey'd awry, + Distinguish form. So your sweet Majesty, + Looking awry upon your lord's departure, + Find shapes of grief more than himself to wail; + Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows + Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious Queen, + More than your lord's departure weep not-more is not seen; + Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, + Which for things true weeps things imaginary. + QUEEN. It may be so; but yet my inward soul + Persuades me it is otherwise. Howe'er it be, + I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad + As-though, on thinking, on no thought I think- + Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. + BUSHY. 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. + QUEEN. 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv'd + From some forefather grief; mine is not so, + For nothing hath begot my something grief, + Or something hath the nothing that I grieve; + 'Tis in reversion that I do possess- + But what it is that is not yet known what, + I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot. + + Enter GREEN + + GREEN. God save your Majesty! and well met, gentlemen. + I hope the King is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. + QUEEN. Why hopest thou so? 'Tis better hope he is; + For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope. + Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd? + GREEN. That he, our hope, might have retir'd his power + And driven into despair an enemy's hope + Who strongly hath set footing in this land. + The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself, + And with uplifted arms is safe arriv'd + At Ravenspurgh. + QUEEN. Now God in heaven forbid! + GREEN. Ah, madam, 'tis too true; and that is worse, + The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, + The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, + With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. + BUSHY. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland + And all the rest revolted faction traitors? + GREEN. We have; whereupon the Earl of Worcester + Hath broken his staff, resign'd his stewardship, + And all the household servants fled with him + To Bolingbroke. + QUEEN. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, + And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir. + Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy; + And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, + Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. + BUSHY. Despair not, madam. + QUEEN. Who shall hinder me? + I will despair, and be at enmity + With cozening hope-he is a flatterer, + A parasite, a keeper-back of death, + Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, + Which false hope lingers in extremity. + + Enter YORK + + GREEN. Here comes the Duke of York. + QUEEN. With signs of war about his aged neck. + O, full of careful business are his looks! + Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words. + YORK. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts. + Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, + Where nothing lives but crosses, cares, and grief. + Your husband, he is gone to save far off, + Whilst others come to make him lose at home. + Here am I left to underprop his land, + Who, weak with age, cannot support myself. + Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; + Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him. + + Enter a SERVINGMAN + + SERVINGMAN. My lord, your son was gone before I came. + YORK. He was-why so go all which way it will! + The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold + And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. + Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester; + Bid her send me presently a thousand pound. + Hold, take my ring. + SERVINGMAN. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship, + To-day, as I came by, I called there- + But I shall grieve you to report the rest. + YORK. What is't, knave? + SERVINGMAN. An hour before I came, the Duchess died. + YORK. God for his mercy! what a tide of woes + Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! + I know not what to do. I would to God, + So my untruth had not provok'd him to it, + The King had cut off my head with my brother's. + What, are there no posts dispatch'd for Ireland? + How shall we do for money for these wars? + Come, sister-cousin, I would say-pray, pardon me. + Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts, + And bring away the armour that is there. + Exit SERVINGMAN + Gentlemen, will you go muster men? + If I know how or which way to order these affairs + Thus disorderly thrust into my hands, + Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen. + T'one is my sovereign, whom both my oath + And duty bids defend; t'other again + Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd, + Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right. + Well, somewhat we must do.-Come, cousin, + I'll dispose of you. Gentlemen, go muster up your men + And meet me presently at Berkeley. + I should to Plashy too, + But time will not permit. All is uneven, + And everything is left at six and seven. + Exeunt YORK and QUEEN + BUSHY. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland. + But none returns. For us to levy power + Proportionable to the enemy + Is all unpossible. + GREEN. Besides, our nearness to the King in love + Is near the hate of those love not the King. + BAGOT. And that is the wavering commons; for their love + Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them, + By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. + BUSHY. Wherein the King stands generally condemn'd. + BAGOT. If judgment lie in them, then so do we, + Because we ever have been near the King. + GREEN. Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristow Castle. + The Earl of Wiltshire is already there. + BUSHY. Thither will I with you; for little office + Will the hateful commons perform for us, + Except Eke curs to tear us all to pieces. + Will you go along with us? + BAGOT. No; I will to Ireland to his Majesty. + Farewell. If heart's presages be not vain, + We three here part that ne'er shall meet again. + BUSHY. That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke. + GREEN. Alas, poor Duke! the task he undertakes + Is numb'ring sands and drinking oceans dry. + Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. + Farewell at once-for once, for all, and ever. + BUSHY. Well, we may meet again. + BAGOT. I fear me, never. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. +Gloucestershire + +Enter BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND, forces + + BOLINGBROKE. How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now? + NORTHUMBERLAND. Believe me, noble lord, + I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire. + These high wild hills and rough uneven ways + Draws out our miles, and makes them wearisome; + And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, + Making the hard way sweet and delectable. + But I bethink me what a weary way + From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found + In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, + Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd + The tediousness and process of my travel. + But theirs is sweet'ned with the hope to have + The present benefit which I possess; + And hope to joy is little less in joy + Than hope enjoy'd. By this the weary lords + Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath done + By sight of what I have, your noble company. + BOLINGBROKE. Of much less value is my company + Than your good words. But who comes here? + + Enter HARRY PERCY + + NORTHUMBERLAND. It is my son, young Harry Percy, + Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever. + Harry, how fares your uncle? + PERCY. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of you. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Why, is he not with the Queen? + PERCY. No, my good lord; he hath forsook the court, + Broken his staff of office, and dispers'd + The household of the King. + NORTHUMBERLAND. What was his reason? + He was not so resolv'd when last we spake together. + PERCY. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. + But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh, + To offer service to the Duke of Hereford; + And sent me over by Berkeley, to discover + What power the Duke of York had levied there; + Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy? + PERCY. No, my good lord; for that is not forgot + Which ne'er I did remember; to my knowledge, + I never in my life did look on him. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Then learn to know him now; this is the Duke. + PERCY. My gracious lord, I tender you my service, + Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young; + Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm + To more approved service and desert. + BOLINGBROKE. I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure + I count myself in nothing else so happy + As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends; + And as my fortune ripens with thy love, + It shall be still thy true love's recompense. + My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. + NORTHUMBERLAND. How far is it to Berkeley? And what stir + Keeps good old York there with his men of war? + PERCY. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, + Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard; + And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour- + None else of name and noble estimate. + + Enter Ross and WILLOUGHBY + + NORTHUMBERLAND. Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, + Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. + BOLINGBROKE. Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues + A banish'd traitor. All my treasury + Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd, + Shall be your love and labour's recompense. + ROSS. Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord. + WILLOUGHBY. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. + BOLINGBROKE. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor; + Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, + Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? + + Enter BERKELEY + + NORTHUMBERLAND. It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. + BERKELEY. My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you. + BOLINGBROKE. My lord, my answer is-'to Lancaster'; + And I am come to seek that name in England; + And I must find that title in your tongue + Before I make reply to aught you say. + BERKELEY. Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning + To raze one title of your honour out. + To you, my lord, I come-what lord you will- + From the most gracious regent of this land, + The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on + To take advantage of the absent time, + And fright our native peace with self-borne arms. + + Enter YORK, attended + + BOLINGBROKE. I shall not need transport my words by you; + Here comes his Grace in person. My noble uncle! + [Kneels] + YORK. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, + Whose duty is deceivable and false. + BOLINGBROKE. My gracious uncle!- + YORK. Tut, tut! + Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle. + I am no traitor's uncle; and that word 'grace' + In an ungracious mouth is but profane. + Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs + Dar'd once to touch a dust of England's ground? + But then more 'why?'-why have they dar'd to march + So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, + Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war + And ostentation of despised arms? + Com'st thou because the anointed King is hence? + Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind, + And in my loyal bosom lies his power. + Were I but now lord of such hot youth + As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself + Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men, + From forth the ranks of many thousand French, + O, then how quickly should this arm of mine, + Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise the + And minister correction to thy fault! + BOLINGBROKE My gracious uncle, let me know my fault; + On what condition stands it and wherein? + YORK. Even in condition of the worst degree- + In gross rebellion and detested treason. + Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come + Before the expiration of thy time, + In braving arms against thy sovereign. + BOLINGBROKE. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford; + But as I come, I come for Lancaster. + And, noble uncle, I beseech your Grace + Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye. + You are my father, for methinks in you + I see old Gaunt alive. O, then, my father, + Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd + A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties + Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away + To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born? + If that my cousin king be King in England, + It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster. + You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin; + Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, + He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father + To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay. + I am denied to sue my livery here, + And yet my letters patents give me leave. + My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold; + And these and all are all amiss employ'd. + What would you have me do? I am a subject, + And I challenge law-attorneys are denied me; + And therefore personally I lay my claim + To my inheritance of free descent. + NORTHUMBERLAND. The noble Duke hath been too much abused. + ROSS. It stands your Grace upon to do him right. + WILLOUGHBY. Base men by his endowments are made great. + YORK. My lords of England, let me tell you this: + I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs, + And labour'd all I could to do him right; + But in this kind to come, in braving arms, + Be his own carver and cut out his way, + To find out right with wrong-it may not be; + And you that do abet him in this kind + Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all. + NORTHUMBERLAND. The noble Duke hath sworn his coming is + But for his own; and for the right of that + We all have strongly sworn to give him aid; + And let him never see joy that breaks that oath! + YORK. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms. + I cannot mend it, I must needs confess, + Because my power is weak and all ill left; + But if I could, by Him that gave me life, + I would attach you all and make you stoop + Unto the sovereign mercy of the King; + But since I cannot, be it known unto you + I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well; + Unless you please to enter in the castle, + And there repose you for this night. + BOLINGBROKE. An offer, uncle, that we will accept. + But we must win your Grace to go with us + To Bristow Castle, which they say is held + By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices, + The caterpillars of the commonwealth, + Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. + YORK. It may be I will go with you; but yet I'll pause, + For I am loath to break our country's laws. + Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are. + Things past redress are now with me past care. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. +A camp in Wales + +Enter EARL OF SALISBURY and a WELSH CAPTAIN + + CAPTAIN. My Lord of Salisbury, we have stay'd ten days + And hardly kept our countrymen together, + And yet we hear no tidings from the King; + Therefore we will disperse ourselves. Farewell. + SALISBURY. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman; + The King reposeth all his confidence in thee. + CAPTAIN. 'Tis thought the King is dead; we will not stay. + The bay trees in our country are all wither'd, + And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; + The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth, + And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; + Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap- + The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, + The other to enjoy by rage and war. + These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. + Farewell. Our countrymen are gone and fled, + As well assur'd Richard their King is dead. Exit + SALISBURY. Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind, + I see thy glory like a shooting star + Fall to the base earth from the firmament! + The sun sets weeping in the lowly west, + Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest; + Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes; + And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +BOLINGBROKE'S camp at Bristol + +Enter BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, PERCY, ROSS, WILLOUGHBY, +BUSHY and GREEN, prisoners + + BOLINGBROKE. Bring forth these men. + Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls- + Since presently your souls must part your bodies- + With too much urging your pernicious lives, + For 'twere no charity; yet, to wash your blood + From off my hands, here in the view of men + I will unfold some causes of your deaths: + You have misled a prince, a royal king, + A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, + By you unhappied and disfigured clean; + You have in manner with your sinful hours + Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him; + Broke the possession of a royal bed, + And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks + With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs; + Myself-a prince by fortune of my birth, + Near to the King in blood, and near in love + Till you did make him misinterpret me- + Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries + And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, + Eating the bitter bread of banishment, + Whilst you have fed upon my signories, + Dispark'd my parks and fell'd my forest woods, + From my own windows torn my household coat, + Raz'd out my imprese, leaving me no sign + Save men's opinions and my living blood + To show the world I am a gentleman. + This and much more, much more than twice all this, + Condemns you to the death. See them delivered over + To execution and the hand of death. + BUSHY. More welcome is the stroke of death to me + Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell. + GREEN. My comfort is that heaven will take our souls, + And plague injustice with the pains of hell. + BOLINGBROKE. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd. + Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, and others, with the prisoners + Uncle, you say the Queen is at your house; + For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated. + Tell her I send to her my kind commends; + Take special care my greetings be delivered. + YORK. A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd + With letters of your love to her at large. + BOLINGBROKE. Thanks, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away, + To fight with Glendower and his complices. + Awhile to work, and after holiday. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. +The coast of Wales. A castle in view + +Drums. Flourish and colours. Enter the KING, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, +AUMERLE, and soldiers + + KING RICHARD. Barkloughly Castle can they this at hand? + AUMERLE. Yea, my lord. How brooks your Grace the air + After your late tossing on the breaking seas? + KING RICHARD. Needs must I like it well. I weep for joy + To stand upon my kingdom once again. + Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, + Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs. + As a long-parted mother with her child + Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, + So weeping-smiling greet I thee, my earth, + And do thee favours with my royal hands. + Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, + Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense; + But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, + And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way, + Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet + Which with usurping steps do trample thee; + Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies; + And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, + Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder, + Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch + Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. + Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords. + This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones + Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king + Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms. + CARLISLE. Fear not, my lord; that Power that made you king + Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. + The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd + And not neglected; else, if heaven would, + And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse, + The proffered means of succour and redress. + AUMERLE. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; + Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, + Grows strong and great in substance and in power. + KING RICHARD. Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not + That when the searching eye of heaven is hid, + Behind the globe, that lights the lower world, + Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen + In murders and in outrage boldly here; + But when from under this terrestrial ball + He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines + And darts his light through every guilty hole, + Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, + The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, + Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? + So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, + Who all this while hath revell'd in the night, + Whilst we were wand'ring with the Antipodes, + Shall see us rising in our throne, the east, + His treasons will sit blushing in his face, + Not able to endure the sight of day, + But self-affrighted tremble at his sin. + Not all the water in the rough rude sea + Can wash the balm off from an anointed king; + The breath of worldly men cannot depose + The deputy elected by the Lord. + For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd + To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, + God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay + A glorious angel. Then, if angels fight, + Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right. + + Enter SALISBURY + + Welcome, my lord. How far off lies your power? + SALISBURY. Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord, + Than this weak arm. Discomfort guides my tongue, + And bids me speak of nothing but despair. + One day too late, I fear me, noble lord, + Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth. + O, call back yesterday, bid time return, + And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men! + To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, + O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state; + For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, + Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, and fled. + AUMERLE. Comfort, my liege, why looks your Grace so pale? + KING RICHARD. But now the blood of twenty thousand men + Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; + And, till so much blood thither come again, + Have I not reason to look pale and dead? + All souls that will be safe, fly from my side; + For time hath set a blot upon my pride. + AUMERLE. Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. + KING RICHARD. I had forgot myself; am I not King? + Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest. + Is not the King's name twenty thousand names? + Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes + At thy great glory. Look not to the ground, + Ye favourites of a king; are we not high? + High be our thoughts. I know my uncle York + Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who comes here? + + Enter SCROOP + + SCROOP. More health and happiness betide my liege + Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him. + KING RICHARD. Mine ear is open and my heart prepar'd. + The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. + Say, is my kingdom lost? Why, 'twas my care, + And what loss is it to be rid of care? + Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? + Greater he shall not be; if he serve God, + We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so. + Revolt our subjects? That we cannot mend; + They break their faith to God as well as us. + Cry woe, destruction, ruin, and decay- + The worst is death, and death will have his day. + SCROOP. Glad am I that your Highness is so arm'd + To bear the tidings of calamity. + Like an unseasonable stormy day + Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, + As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears, + So high above his limits swells the rage + Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land + With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel. + White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps + Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices, + Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints + In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown; + Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows + Of double-fatal yew against thy state; + Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills + Against thy seat: both young and old rebel, + And all goes worse than I have power to tell. + KING RICHARD. Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so in. + Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? Where is Bagot? + What is become of Bushy? Where is Green? + That they have let the dangerous enemy + Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? + If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it. + I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke. + SCROOP. Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord. + KING RICHARD. O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption! + Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! + Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart! + Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! + Would they make peace? Terrible hell make war + Upon their spotted souls for this offence! + SCROOP. Sweet love, I see, changing his property, + Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. + Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made + With heads, and not with hands; those whom you curse + Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound + And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground. + AUMERLE. Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead? + SCROOP. Ay, all of them at Bristow lost their heads. + AUMERLE. Where is the Duke my father with his power? + KING RICHARD. No matter where-of comfort no man speak. + Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; + Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes + Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. + Let's choose executors and talk of wills; + And yet not so-for what can we bequeath + Save our deposed bodies to the ground? + Our lands, our lives, and an, are Bolingbroke's. + And nothing can we can our own but death + And that small model of the barren earth + Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. + For God's sake let us sit upon the ground + And tell sad stories of the death of kings: + How some have been depos'd, some slain in war, + Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd, + Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd, + All murder'd-for within the hollow crown + That rounds the mortal temples of a king + Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits, + Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp; + Allowing him a breath, a little scene, + To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; + Infusing him with self and vain conceit, + As if this flesh which walls about our life + Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus, + Comes at the last, and with a little pin + Bores through his castle wall, and farewell, king! + Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood + With solemn reverence; throw away respect, + Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty; + For you have but mistook me all this while. + I live with bread like you, feel want, + Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, + How can you say to me I am a king? + CARLISLE. My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, + But presently prevent the ways to wail. + To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, + Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, + And so your follies fight against yourself. + Fear and be slain-no worse can come to fight; + And fight and die is death destroying death, + Where fearing dying pays death servile breath. + AUMERLE. My father hath a power; inquire of him, + And learn to make a body of a limb. + KING RICHARD. Thou chid'st me well. Proud Bolingbroke, I come + To change blows with thee for our day of doom. + This ague fit of fear is over-blown; + An easy task it is to win our own. + Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? + Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. + SCROOP. Men judge by the complexion of the sky + The state in inclination of the day; + So may you by my dull and heavy eye, + My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. + I play the torturer, by small and small + To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken: + Your uncle York is join'd with Bolingbroke; + And all your northern castles yielded up, + And all your southern gentlemen in arms + Upon his party. + KING RICHARD. Thou hast said enough. + [To AUMERLE] Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth + Of that sweet way I was in to despair! + What say you now? What comfort have we now? + By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly + That bids me be of comfort any more. + Go to Flint Castle; there I'll pine away; + A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey. + That power I have, discharge; and let them go + To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, + For I have none. Let no man speak again + To alter this, for counsel is but vain. + AUMERLE. My liege, one word. + KING RICHARD. He does me double wrong + That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. + Discharge my followers; let them hence away, + From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. +Wales. Before Flint Castle + +Enter, with drum and colours, BOLINGBROKE, YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, +and forces + + BOLINGBROKE. So that by this intelligence we learn + The Welshmen are dispers'd; and Salisbury + Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed + With some few private friends upon this coast. + NORTHUMBERLAND. The news is very fair and good, my lord. + Richard not far from hence hath hid his head. + YORK. It would beseem the Lord Northumberland + To say 'King Richard.' Alack the heavy day + When such a sacred king should hide his head! + NORTHUMBERLAND. Your Grace mistakes; only to be brief, + Left I his title out. + YORK. The time hath been, + Would you have been so brief with him, he would + Have been so brief with you to shorten you, + For taking so the head, your whole head's length. + BOLINGBROKE. Mistake not, uncle, further than you should. + YORK. Take not, good cousin, further than you should, + Lest you mistake. The heavens are over our heads. + BOLINGBROKE. I know it, uncle; and oppose not myself + Against their will. But who comes here? + + Enter PERCY + + Welcome, Harry. What, will not this castle yield? + PIERCY. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord, + Against thy entrance. + BOLINGBROKE. Royally! + Why, it contains no king? + PERCY. Yes, my good lord, + It doth contain a king; King Richard lies + Within the limits of yon lime and stone; + And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, + Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman + Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn. + NORTHUMBERLAND. O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle. + BOLINGBROKE. [To NORTHUMBERLAND] Noble lord, + Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle; + Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley + Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver: + Henry Bolingbroke + On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand, + And sends allegiance and true faith of heart + To his most royal person; hither come + Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, + Provided that my banishment repeal'd + And lands restor'd again be freely granted; + If not, I'll use the advantage of my power + And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood + Rain'd from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen; + The which how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke + It is such crimson tempest should bedrench + The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land, + My stooping duty tenderly shall show. + Go, signify as much, while here we march + Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. + [NORTHUMBERLAND advances to the Castle, with a trumpet] + Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum, + That from this castle's tottered battlements + Our fair appointments may be well perus'd. + Methinks King Richard and myself should meet + With no less terror than the elements + Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock + At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. + Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water; + The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain + My waters-on the earth, and not on him. + March on, and mark King Richard how he looks. + + Parle without, and answer within; then a flourish. + Enter on the walls, the KING, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, + AUMERLE, SCROOP, and SALISBURY + + See, see, King Richard doth himself appear, + As doth the blushing discontented sun + From out the fiery portal of the east, + When he perceives the envious clouds are bent + To dim his glory and to stain the track + Of his bright passage to the occident. + YORK. Yet he looks like a king. Behold, his eye, + As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth + Controlling majesty. Alack, alack, for woe, + That any harm should stain so fair a show! + KING RICHARD. [To NORTHUMBERLAND] We are amaz'd; and thus long + have we stood + To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, + Because we thought ourself thy lawful King; + And if we be, how dare thy joints forget + To pay their awful duty to our presence? + If we be not, show us the hand of God + That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship; + For well we know no hand of blood and bone + Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, + Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. + And though you think that all, as you have done, + Have torn their souls by turning them from us, + And we are barren and bereft of friends, + Yet know-my master, God omnipotent, + Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf + Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike + Your children yet unborn and unbegot, + That lift your vassal hands against my head + And threat the glory of my precious crown. + Tell Bolingbroke, for yon methinks he stands, + That every stride he makes upon my land + Is dangerous treason; he is come to open + The purple testament of bleeding war; + But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, + Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons + Shall ill become the flower of England's face, + Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace + To scarlet indignation, and bedew + Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. + NORTHUMBERLAND. The King of Heaven forbid our lord the King + Should so with civil and uncivil arms + Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice noble cousin, + Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand; + And by the honourable tomb he swears + That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones, + And by the royalties of both your bloods, + Currents that spring from one most gracious head, + And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, + And by the worth and honour of himself, + Comprising all that may be sworn or said, + His coming hither hath no further scope + Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg + Enfranchisement immediate on his knees; + Which on thy royal party granted once, + His glittering arms he will commend to rust, + His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart + To faithful service of your Majesty. + This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; + And as I am a gentleman I credit him. + KING RICHARD. Northumberland, say thus the King returns: + His noble cousin is right welcome hither; + And all the number of his fair demands + Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction. + With all the gracious utterance thou hast + Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. + [To AUMERLE] We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, + To look so poorly and to speak so fair? + Shall we call back Northumberland, and send + Defiance to the traitor, and so die? + AUMERLE. No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words + Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords. + KING RICHARD. O God, O God! that e'er this tongue of mine + That laid the sentence of dread banishment + On yon proud man should take it off again + With words of sooth! O that I were as great + As is my grief, or lesser than my name! + Or that I could forget what I have been! + Or not remember what I must be now! + Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, + Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. + AUMERLE. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. + KING RICHARD. What must the King do now? Must he submit? + The King shall do it. Must he be depos'd? + The King shall be contented. Must he lose + The name of king? A God's name, let it go. + I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, + My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, + My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, + My figur'd goblets for a dish of wood, + My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff, + My subjects for a pair of carved saints, + And my large kingdom for a little grave, + A little little grave, an obscure grave- + Or I'll be buried in the king's high way, + Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet + May hourly trample on their sovereign's head; + For on my heart they tread now whilst I live, + And buried once, why not upon my head? + Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin! + We'll make foul weather with despised tears; + Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn + And make a dearth in this revolting land. + Or shall we play the wantons with our woes + And make some pretty match with shedding tears? + As thus: to drop them still upon one place + Till they have fretted us a pair of graves + Within the earth; and, therein laid-there lies + Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes. + Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see + I talk but idly, and you laugh at me. + Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, + What says King Bolingbroke? Will his Majesty + Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? + You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay. + NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, in the base court he doth attend + To speak with you; may it please you to come down? + KING RICHARD. Down, down I come, like glist'ring Phaethon, + Wanting the manage of unruly jades. + In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, + To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace. + In the base court? Come down? Down, court! down, king! + For night-owls shriek where mounting larks should sing. + Exeunt from above + BOLINGBROKE. What says his Majesty? + NORTHUMBERLAND. Sorrow and grief of heart + Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man; + Yet he is come. + + Enter the KING, and his attendants, below + + BOLINGBROKE. Stand all apart, + And show fair duty to his Majesty. [He kneels down] + My gracious lord- + KING RICHARD. Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee + To make the base earth proud with kissing it. + Me rather had my heart might feel your love + Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy. + Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, + [Touching his own head] Thus high at least, although your + knee be low. + BOLINGBROKE. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. + KING RICHARD. Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. + BOLINGBROKE. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, + As my true service shall deserve your love. + KING RICHARD. Well you deserve. They well deserve to have + That know the strong'st and surest way to get. + Uncle, give me your hands; nay, dry your eyes: + Tears show their love, but want their remedies. + Cousin, I am too young to be your father, + Though you are old enough to be my heir. + What you will have, I'll give, and willing too; + For do we must what force will have us do. + Set on towards London. Cousin, is it so? + BOLINGBROKE. Yea, my good lord. + KING RICHARD. Then I must not say no. Flourish. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. +The DUKE OF YORK's garden + +Enter the QUEEN and two LADIES + + QUEEN. What sport shall we devise here in this garden + To drive away the heavy thought of care? + LADY. Madam, we'll play at bowls. + QUEEN. 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs + And that my fortune runs against the bias. + LADY. Madam, we'll dance. + QUEEN. My legs can keep no measure in delight, + When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief; + Therefore no dancing, girl; some other sport. + LADY. Madam, we'll tell tales. + QUEEN. Of sorrow or of joy? + LADY. Of either, madam. + QUEEN. Of neither, girl; + For if of joy, being altogether wanting, + It doth remember me the more of sorrow; + Or if of grief, being altogether had, + It adds more sorrow to my want of joy; + For what I have I need not to repeat, + And what I want it boots not to complain. + LADY. Madam, I'll sing. + QUEEN. 'Tis well' that thou hast cause; + But thou shouldst please me better wouldst thou weep. + LADY. I could weep, madam, would it do you good. + QUEEN. And I could sing, would weeping do me good, + And never borrow any tear of thee. + + Enter a GARDENER and two SERVANTS + + But stay, here come the gardeners. + Let's step into the shadow of these trees. + My wretchedness unto a row of pins, + They will talk of state, for every one doth so + Against a change: woe is forerun with woe. + [QUEEN and LADIES retire] + GARDENER. Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks, + Which, like unruly children, make their sire + Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight; + Give some supportance to the bending twigs. + Go thou, and Eke an executioner + Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays + That look too lofty in our commonwealth: + All must be even in our government. + You thus employ'd, I will go root away + The noisome weeds which without profit suck + The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. + SERVANT. Why should we, in the compass of a pale, + Keep law and form and due proportion, + Showing, as in a model, our firm estate, + When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, + Is full of weeds; her fairest flowers chok'd up, + Her fruit trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd, + Her knots disordered, and her wholesome herbs + Swarming with caterpillars? + GARDENER. Hold thy peace. + He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring + Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf; + The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, + That seem'd in eating him to hold him up, + Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke- + I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. + SERVANT. What, are they dead? + GARDENER. They are; and Bolingbroke + Hath seiz'd the wasteful King. O, what pity is it + That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land + As we this garden! We at time of year + Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit trees, + Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood, + With too much riches it confound itself; + Had he done so to great and growing men, + They might have Ev'd to bear, and he to taste + Their fruits of duty. Superfluous branches + We lop away, that bearing boughs may live; + Had he done so, himself had home the crown, + Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. + SERVANT. What, think you the King shall be deposed? + GARDENER. Depress'd he is already, and depos'd + 'Tis doubt he will be. Letters came last night + To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's + That tell black tidings. + QUEEN. O, I am press'd to death through want of speaking! + [Coming forward] + Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden, + How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news? + What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested the + To make a second fall of cursed man? + Why dost thou say King Richard is depos'd? + Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth, + Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how, + Cam'st thou by this ill tidings? Speak, thou wretch. + GARDENER. Pardon me, madam; little joy have + To breathe this news; yet what I say is true. + King Richard, he is in the mighty hold + Of Bolingbroke. Their fortunes both are weigh'd. + In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, + And some few vanities that make him light; + But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, + Besides himself, are all the English peers, + And with that odds he weighs King Richard down. + Post you to London, and you will find it so; + I speak no more than every one doth know. + QUEEN. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, + Doth not thy embassage belong to me, + And am I last that knows it? O, thou thinkest + To serve me last, that I may longest keep + Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go + To meet at London London's King in woe. + What, was I born to this, that my sad look + Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? + Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe, + Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow! + Exeunt QUEEN and LADIES + GARDENER. Poor Queen, so that thy state might be no worse, + I would my skill were subject to thy curse. + Here did she fall a tear; here in this place + I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace. + Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, + In the remembrance of a weeping queen. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 1. +Westminster Hall + +Enter, as to the Parliament, BOLINGBROKE, AUMERLE, NORTHUMBERLAND, PERCY, +FITZWATER, SURREY, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, the ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER, +and others; HERALD, OFFICERS, and BAGOT + + BOLINGBROKE. Call forth Bagot. + Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind- + What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death; + Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd + The bloody office of his timeless end. + BAGOT. Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle. + BOLINGBROKE. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. + BAGOT. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue + Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. + In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted + I heard you say 'Is not my arm of length, + That reacheth from the restful English Court + As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?' + Amongst much other talk that very time + I heard you say that you had rather refuse + The offer of an hundred thousand crowns + Than Bolingbroke's return to England; + Adding withal, how blest this land would be + In this your cousin's death. + AUMERLE. Princes, and noble lords, + What answer shall I make to this base man? + Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars + On equal terms to give him chastisement? + Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd + With the attainder of his slanderous lips. + There is my gage, the manual seal of death + That marks thee out for hell. I say thou liest, + And will maintain what thou hast said is false + In thy heart-blood, through being all too base + To stain the temper of my knightly sword. + BOLINGBROKE. Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it up. + AUMERLE. Excepting one, I would he were the best + In all this presence that hath mov'd me so. + FITZWATER. If that thy valour stand on sympathy, + There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine. + By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st, + I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it, + That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death. + If thou deniest it twenty times, thou liest; + And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, + Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. + AUMERLE. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that day. + FITZWATER. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour. + AUMERLE. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. + PERCY. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true + In this appeal as thou art an unjust; + And that thou art so, there I throw my gage, + To prove it on thee to the extremest point + Of mortal breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'st. + AUMERLE. An if I do not, may my hands rot of + And never brandish more revengeful steel + Over the glittering helmet of my foe! + ANOTHER LORD. I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle; + And spur thee on with fun as many lies + As may be halloa'd in thy treacherous ear + From sun to sun. There is my honour's pawn; + Engage it to the trial, if thou darest. + AUMERLE. Who sets me else? By heaven, I'll throw at all! + I have a thousand spirits in one breast + To answer twenty thousand such as you. + SURREY. My Lord Fitzwater, I do remember well + The very time Aumerle and you did talk. + FITZWATER. 'Tis very true; you were in presence then, + And you can witness with me this is true. + SURREY. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. + FITZWATER. Surrey, thou liest. + SURREY. Dishonourable boy! + That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword + That it shall render vengeance and revenge + Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do he + In earth as quiet as thy father's skull. + In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn; + Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st. + FITZWATER. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse! + If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, + I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness, + And spit upon him whilst I say he lies, + And lies, and lies. There is my bond of faith, + To tie thee to my strong correction. + As I intend to thrive in this new world, + Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal. + Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say + That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men + To execute the noble Duke at Calais. + AUMERLE. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage + That Norfolk lies. Here do I throw down this, + If he may be repeal'd to try his honour. + BOLINGBROKE. These differences shall all rest under gage + Till Norfolk be repeal'd-repeal'd he shall be + And, though mine enemy, restor'd again + To all his lands and signories. When he is return'd, + Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. + CARLISLE. That honourable day shall never be seen. + Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought + For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field, + Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross + Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens; + And, toil'd with works of war, retir'd himself + To Italy; and there, at Venice, gave + His body to that pleasant country's earth, + And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, + Under whose colours he had fought so long. + BOLINGBROKE. Why, Bishop, is Norfolk dead? + CARLISLE. As surely as I live, my lord. + BOLINGBROKE. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom + Of good old Abraham! Lords appellants, + Your differences shall all rest under gage + Till we assign you to your days of trial + + Enter YORK, attended + + YORK. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to the + From plume-pluck'd Richard, who with willing soul + Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields + To the possession of thy royal hand. + Ascend his throne, descending now from him- + And long live Henry, fourth of that name! + BOLINGBROKE. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne. + CARLISLE. Marry, God forbid! + Worst in this royal presence may I speak, + Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. + Would God that any in this noble presence + Were enough noble to be upright judge + Of noble Richard! Then true noblesse would + Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. + What subject can give sentence on his king? + And who sits here that is not Richard's subject? + Thieves are not judg'd but they are by to hear, + Although apparent guilt be seen in them; + And shall the figure of God's majesty, + His captain, steward, deputy elect, + Anointed, crowned, planted many years, + Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath, + And he himself not present? O, forfend it, God, + That in a Christian climate souls refin'd + Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed! + I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, + Stirr'd up by God, thus boldly for his king. + My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, + Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king; + And if you crown him, let me prophesy- + The blood of English shall manure the ground, + And future ages groan for this foul act; + Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, + And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars + Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound; + Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, + Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd + The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls. + O, if you raise this house against this house, + It will the woefullest division prove + That ever fell upon this cursed earth. + Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so, + Lest child, child's children, cry against you woe. + NORTHUMBERLAND. Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains, + Of capital treason we arrest you here. + My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge + To keep him safely till his day of trial. + May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit? + BOLINGBROKE. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view + He may surrender; so we shall proceed + Without suspicion. + YORK. I will be his conduct. Exit + BOLINGBROKE. Lords, you that here are under our arrest, + Procure your sureties for your days of answer. + Little are we beholding to your love, + And little look'd for at your helping hands. + + Re-enter YORK, with KING RICHARD, and OFFICERS + bearing the regalia + + KING RICHARD. Alack, why am I sent for to a king, + Before I have shook off the regal thoughts + Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd + To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee. + Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me + To this submission. Yet I well remember + The favours of these men. Were they not mine? + Did they not sometime cry 'All hail!' to me? + So Judas did to Christ; but he, in twelve, + Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, none. + God save the King! Will no man say amen? + Am I both priest and clerk? Well then, amen. + God save the King! although I be not he; + And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me. + To do what service am I sent for hither? + YORK. To do that office of thine own good will + Which tired majesty did make thee offer- + The resignation of thy state and crown + To Henry Bolingbroke. + KING RICHARD. Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown. + Here, cousin, + On this side my hand, and on that side thine. + Now is this golden crown like a deep well + That owes two buckets, filling one another; + The emptier ever dancing in the air, + The other down, unseen, and full of water. + That bucket down and fun of tears am I, + Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. + BOLINGBROKE. I thought you had been willing to resign. + KING RICHARD. My crown I am; but still my griefs are mine. + You may my glories and my state depose, + But not my griefs; still am I king of those. + BOLINGBROKE. Part of your cares you give me with your crown. + KING RICHARD. Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down. + My care is loss of care, by old care done; + Your care is gain of care, by new care won. + The cares I give I have, though given away; + They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. + BOLINGBROKE. Are you contented to resign the crown? + KING RICHARD. Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be; + Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. + Now mark me how I will undo myself: + I give this heavy weight from off my head, + And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, + The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; + With mine own tears I wash away my balm, + With mine own hands I give away my crown, + With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, + With mine own breath release all duteous oaths; + All pomp and majesty I do forswear; + My manors, rents, revenues, I forgo; + My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny. + God pardon all oaths that are broke to me! + God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee! + Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd, + And thou with all pleas'd, that hast an achiev'd. + Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit, + And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit. + God save King Henry, unking'd Richard says, + And send him many years of sunshine days! + What more remains? + NORTHUMBERLAND. No more; but that you read + These accusations, and these grievous crimes + Committed by your person and your followers + Against the state and profit of this land; + That, by confessing them, the souls of men + May deem that you are worthily depos'd. + KING RICHARD. Must I do so? And must I ravel out + My weav'd-up follies? Gentle Northumberland, + If thy offences were upon record, + Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop + To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, + There shouldst thou find one heinous article, + Containing the deposing of a king + And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, + Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven. + Nay, all of you that stand and look upon me + Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, + Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, + Showing an outward pity-yet you Pilates + Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, + And water cannot wash away your sin. + NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, dispatch; read o'er these + articles. + KING RICHARD. Mine eyes are full of tears; I cannot see. + And yet salt water blinds them not so much + But they can see a sort of traitors here. + Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, + I find myself a traitor with the rest; + For I have given here my soul's consent + T'undeck the pompous body of a king; + Made glory base, and sovereignty a slave, + Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant. + NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord- + KING RICHARD. No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man, + Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no tide- + No, not that name was given me at the font- + But 'tis usurp'd. Alack the heavy day, + That I have worn so many winters out, + And know not now what name to call myself! + O that I were a mockery king of snow, + Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke + To melt myself away in water drops! + Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good, + An if my word be sterling yet in England, + Let it command a mirror hither straight, + That it may show me what a face I have + Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. + BOLINGBROKE. Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass. + Exit an attendant + NORTHUMBERLAND. Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come. + KING RICHARD. Fiend, thou torments me ere I come to hell. + BOLINGBROKE. Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland. + NORTHUMBERLAND. The Commons will not, then, be satisfied. + KING RICHARD. They shall be satisfied. I'll read enough, + When I do see the very book indeed + Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself. + + Re-enter attendant with glass + + Give me that glass, and therein will I read. + No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck + So many blows upon this face of mine + And made no deeper wounds? O flatt'ring glass, + Like to my followers in prosperity, + Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face + That every day under his household roof + Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face + That like the sun did make beholders wink? + Is this the face which fac'd so many follies + That was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke? + A brittle glory shineth in this face; + As brittle as the glory is the face; + [Dashes the glass against the ground] + For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. + Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport- + How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. + BOLINGBROKE. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd + The shadow of your face. + KING RICHARD. Say that again. + The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see. + 'Tis very true: my grief lies all within; + And these external manner of laments + Are merely shadows to the unseen grief + That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul. + There lies the substance; and I thank thee, king, + For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st + Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way + How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, + And then be gone and trouble you no more. + Shall I obtain it? + BOLINGBROKE. Name it, fair cousin. + KING RICHARD. Fair cousin! I am greater than a king; + For when I was a king, my flatterers + Were then but subjects; being now a subject, + I have a king here to my flatterer. + Being so great, I have no need to beg. + BOLINGBROKE. Yet ask. + KING RICHARD. And shall I have? + BOLINGBROKE. You shall. + KING RICHARD. Then give me leave to go. + BOLINGBROKE. Whither? + KING RICHARD. Whither you will, so I were from your sights. + BOLINGBROKE. Go, some of you convey him to the Tower. + KING RICHARD. O, good! Convey! Conveyers are you all, + That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. + Exeunt KING RICHARD, some Lords and a Guard + BOLINGBROKE. On Wednesday next we solemnly set down + Our coronation. Lords, prepare yourselves. + Exeunt all but the ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER, the + BISHOP OF CARLISLE, and AUMERLE + ABBOT. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. + CARLISLE. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn + Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. + AUMERLE. You holy clergymen, is there no plot + To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? + ABBOT. My lord, + Before I freely speak my mind herein, + You shall not only take the sacrament + To bury mine intents, but also to effect + Whatever I shall happen to devise. + I see your brows are full of discontent, + Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears. + Come home with me to supper; I will lay + A plot shall show us all a merry day. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1. +London. A street leading to the Tower + +Enter the QUEEN, with her attendants + + QUEEN. This way the King will come; this is the way + To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower, + To whose flint bosom my condemned lord + Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke. + Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth + Have any resting for her true King's queen. + + Enter KING RICHARD and Guard + + But soft, but see, or rather do not see, + My fair rose wither. Yet look up, behold, + That you in pity may dissolve to dew, + And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. + Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand; + Thou map of honour, thou King Richard's tomb, + And not King Richard; thou most beauteous inn, + Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee, + When triumph is become an alehouse guest? + KING RICHARD. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, + To make my end too sudden. Learn, good soul, + To think our former state a happy dream; + From which awak'd, the truth of what we are + Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet, + To grim Necessity; and he and + Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, + And cloister thee in some religious house. + Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, + Which our profane hours here have thrown down. + QUEEN. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind + Transform'd and weak'ned? Hath Bolingbroke depos'd + Thine intellect? Hath he been in thy heart? + The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw + And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage + To be o'erpow'r'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like, + Take the correction mildly, kiss the rod, + And fawn on rage with base humility, + Which art a lion and the king of beasts? + KING RICHARD. A king of beasts, indeed! If aught but beasts, + I had been still a happy king of men. + Good sometimes queen, prepare thee hence for France. + Think I am dead, and that even here thou takest, + As from my death-bed, thy last living leave. + In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire + With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales + Of woeful ages long ago betid; + And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs + Tell thou the lamentable tale of me, + And send the hearers weeping to their beds; + For why, the senseless brands will sympathize + The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, + And in compassion weep the fire out; + And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, + For the deposing of a rightful king. + + Enter NORTHUMBERLAND attended + + NORTHUMBERLAND. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is chang'd; + You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. + And, madam, there is order ta'en for you: + With all swift speed you must away to France. + KING RICHARD. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal + The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, + The time shall not be many hours of age + More than it is, ere foul sin gathering head + Shall break into corruption. Thou shalt think + Though he divide the realm and give thee half + It is too little, helping him to all; + And he shall think that thou, which knowest the way + To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, + Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way + To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. + The love of wicked men converts to fear; + That fear to hate; and hate turns one or both + To worthy danger and deserved death. + NORTHUMBERLAND. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. + Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith. + KING RICHARD. Doubly divorc'd! Bad men, you violate + A twofold marriage-'twixt my crown and me, + And then betwixt me and my married wife. + Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; + And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. + Part us, Northumberland; I towards the north, + Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; + My wife to France, from whence set forth in pomp, + She came adorned hither like sweet May, + Sent back like Hallowmas or short'st of day. + QUEEN. And must we be divided? Must we part? + KING RICHARD. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. + QUEEN. Banish us both, and send the King with me. + NORTHUMBERLAND. That were some love, but little policy. + QUEEN. Then whither he goes thither let me go. + KING RICHARD. So two, together weeping, make one woe. + Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; + Better far off than near, be ne'er the near. + Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groans. + QUEEN. So longest way shall have the longest moans. + KING RICHARD. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short, + And piece the way out with a heavy heart. + Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, + Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. + One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part; + Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. + QUEEN. Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part + To take on me to keep and kill thy heart. + So, now I have mine own again, be gone. + That I may strive to kill it with a groan. + KING RICHARD. We make woe wanton with this fond delay. + Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. +The DUKE OF YORK's palace + +Enter the DUKE OF YORK and the DUCHESS + + DUCHESS. My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest, + When weeping made you break the story off, + Of our two cousins' coming into London. + YORK. Where did I leave? + DUCHESS. At that sad stop, my lord, + Where rude misgoverned hands from windows' tops + Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. + YORK. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke, + Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed + Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, + With slow but stately pace kept on his course, + Whilst all tongues cried 'God save thee, Bolingbroke!' + You would have thought the very windows spake, + So many greedy looks of young and old + Through casements darted their desiring eyes + Upon his visage; and that all the walls + With painted imagery had said at once + 'Jesu preserve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!' + Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning, + Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, + Bespake them thus, 'I thank you, countrymen.' + And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. + DUCHESS. Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst? + YORK. As in a theatre the eyes of men + After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage + Are idly bent on him that enters next, + Thinking his prattle to be tedious; + Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes + Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 'God save him!' + No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home; + But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; + Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, + His face still combating with tears and smiles, + The badges of his grief and patience, + That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd + The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, + And barbarism itself have pitied him. + But heaven hath a hand in these events, + To whose high will we bound our calm contents. + To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, + Whose state and honour I for aye allow. + DUCHESS. Here comes my son Aumerle. + YORK. Aumerle that was + But that is lost for being Richard's friend, + And madam, you must call him Rudand now. + I am in Parliament pledge for his truth + And lasting fealty to the new-made king. + + Enter AUMERLE + + DUCHESS. Welcome, my son. Who are the violets now + That strew the green lap of the new come spring? + AUMERLE. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not. + God knows I had as lief be none as one. + YORK. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, + Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. + What news from Oxford? Do these justs and triumphs hold? + AUMERLE. For aught I know, my lord, they do. + YORK. You will be there, I know. + AUMERLE. If God prevent not, I purpose so. + YORK. What seal is that that without thy bosom? + Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the writing. + AUMERLE. My lord, 'tis nothing. + YORK. No matter, then, who see it. + I will be satisfied; let me see the writing. + AUMERLE. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me; + It is a matter of small consequence + Which for some reasons I would not have seen. + YORK. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. + I fear, I fear- + DUCHESS. What should you fear? + 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is ent'red into + For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph-day. + YORK. Bound to himself! What doth he with a bond + That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. + Boy, let me see the writing. + AUMERLE. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it. + YORK. I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. + [He plucks it out of his bosom, and reads it] + Treason, foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave! + DUCHESS. What is the matter, my lord? + YORK. Ho! who is within there? + + Enter a servant + + Saddle my horse. + God for his mercy, what treachery is here! + DUCHESS. Why, York, what is it, my lord? + YORK. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse. + Exit servant + Now, by mine honour, by my life, my troth, + I will appeach the villain. + DUCHESS. What is the matter? + YORK. Peace, foolish woman. + DUCHESS. I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle? + AUMERLE. Good mother, be content; it is no more + Than my poor life must answer. + DUCHESS. Thy life answer! + YORK. Bring me my boots. I will unto the King. + + His man enters with his boots + + DUCHESS. Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amaz'd. + Hence, villain! never more come in my sight. + YORK. Give me my boots, I say. + DUCHESS. Why, York, what wilt thou do? + Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? + Have we more sons? or are we like to have? + Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? + And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age + And rob me of a happy mother's name? + Is he not like thee? Is he not thine own? + YORK. Thou fond mad woman, + Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? + A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, + And interchangeably set down their hands + To kill the King at Oxford. + DUCHESS. He shall be none; + We'll keep him here. Then what is that to him? + YORK. Away, fond woman! were he twenty times my son + I would appeach him. + DUCHESS. Hadst thou groan'd for him + As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful. + But now I know thy mind: thou dost suspect + That I have been disloyal to thy bed + And that he is a bastard, not thy son. + Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind. + He is as like thee as a man may be + Not like to me, or any of my kin, + And yet I love him. + YORK. Make way, unruly woman! Exit + DUCHESS. After, Aumerle! Mount thee upon his horse; + Spur post, and get before him to the King, + And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. + I'll not be long behind; though I be old, + I doubt not but to ride as fast as York; + And never will I rise up from the ground + Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. +Windsor Castle + +Enter BOLINGBROKE as King, PERCY, and other LORDS + + BOLINGBROKE. Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son? + 'Tis full three months since I did see him last. + If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. + I would to God, my lords, he might be found. + Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, + For there, they say, he daily doth frequent + With unrestrained loose companions, + Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes + And beat our watch and rob our passengers, + Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy, + Takes on the point of honour to support + So dissolute a crew. + PERCY. My lord, some two days since I saw the Prince, + And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford. + BOLINGBROKE. And what said the gallant? + PERCY. His answer was, he would unto the stews, + And from the common'st creature pluck a glove + And wear it as a favour; and with that + He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. + BOLINGBROKE. As dissolute as desperate; yet through both + I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years + May happily bring forth. But who comes here? + + Enter AUMERLE amazed + + AUMERLE. Where is the King? + BOLINGBROKE. What means our cousin that he stares and looks + So wildly? + AUMERLE. God save your Grace! I do beseech your Majesty, + To have some conference with your Grace alone. + BOLINGBROKE. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. + Exeunt PERCY and LORDS + What is the matter with our cousin now? + AUMERLE. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, + [Kneels] + My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, + Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. + BOLINGBROKE. Intended or committed was this fault? + If on the first, how heinous e'er it be, + To win thy after-love I pardon thee. + AUMERLE. Then give me leave that I may turn the key, + That no man enter till my tale be done. + BOLINGBROKE. Have thy desire. + [The DUKE OF YORK knocks at the door and crieth] + YORK. [Within] My liege, beware; look to thyself; + Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. + BOLINGBROKE. [Drawing] Villain, I'll make thee safe. + AUMERLE. Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear. + YORK. [Within] Open the door, secure, foolhardy King. + Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face? + Open the door, or I will break it open. + + Enter YORK + + BOLINGBROKE. What is the matter, uncle? Speak; + Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, + That we may arm us to encounter it. + YORK. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know + The treason that my haste forbids me show. + AUMERLE. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd. + I do repent me; read not my name there; + My heart is not confederate with my hand. + YORK. It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. + I tore it from the traitor's bosom, King; + Fear, and not love, begets his penitence. + Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove + A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. + BOLINGBROKE. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy! + O loyal father of a treacherous son! + Thou sheer, immaculate, and silver fountain, + From whence this stream through muddy passages + Hath held his current and defil'd himself! + Thy overflow of good converts to bad; + And thy abundant goodness shall excuse + This deadly blot in thy digressing son. + YORK. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; + And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, + As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. + Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, + Or my sham'd life in his dishonour lies. + Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, + The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. + DUCHESS. [Within] I What ho, my liege, for God's sake, let me in. + BOLINGBROKE. What shrill-voic'd suppliant makes this eager cry? + DUCHESS. [Within] A woman, and thine aunt, great King; 'tis I. + Speak with me, pity me, open the door. + A beggar begs that never begg'd before. + BOLINGBROKE. Our scene is alt'red from a serious thing, + And now chang'd to 'The Beggar and the King.' + My dangerous cousin, let your mother in. + I know she is come to pray for your foul sin. + YORK. If thou do pardon whosoever pray, + More sins for this forgiveness prosper may. + This fest'red joint cut off, the rest rest sound; + This let alone will all the rest confound. + + Enter DUCHESS + + DUCHESS. O King, believe not this hard-hearted man! + Love loving not itself, none other can. + YORK. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here? + Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? + DUCHESS. Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege. + [Kneels] + BOLINGBROKE. Rise up, good aunt. + DUCHESS. Not yet, I thee beseech. + For ever will I walk upon my knees, + And never see day that the happy sees + Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy + By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. + AUMERLE. Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee. + [Kneels] + YORK. Against them both, my true joints bended be. + [Kneels] + Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! + DUCHESS. Pleads he in earnest? Look upon his face; + His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; + His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast. + He prays but faintly and would be denied; + We pray with heart and soul, and all beside. + His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; + Our knees still kneel till to the ground they grow. + His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; + Ours of true zeal and deep integrity. + Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have + That mercy which true prayer ought to have. + BOLINGBROKE. Good aunt, stand up. + DUCHESS. do not say 'stand up'; + Say 'pardon' first, and afterwards 'stand up.' + An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, + 'Pardon' should be the first word of thy speech. + I never long'd to hear a word till now; + Say 'pardon,' King; let pity teach thee how. + The word is short, but not so short as sweet; + No word like 'pardon' for kings' mouths so meet. + YORK. Speak it in French, King, say 'pardonne moy.' + DUCHESS. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? + Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, + That sets the word itself against the word! + Speak 'pardon' as 'tis current in our land; + The chopping French we do not understand. + Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there; + Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear, + That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, + Pity may move thee 'pardon' to rehearse. + BOLINGBROKE. Good aunt, stand up. + DUCHESS. I do not sue to stand; + Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. + BOLINGBROKE. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. + DUCHESS. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! + Yet am I sick for fear. Speak it again. + Twice saying 'pardon' doth not pardon twain, + But makes one pardon strong. + BOLINGBROKE. With all my heart + I pardon him. + DUCHESS. A god on earth thou art. + BOLINGBROKE. But for our trusty brother-in-law and the Abbot, + With all the rest of that consorted crew, + Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. + Good uncle, help to order several powers + To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are. + They shall not live within this world, I swear, + But I will have them, if I once know where. + Uncle, farewell; and, cousin, adieu; + Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. + DUCHESS. Come, my old son; I pray God make thee new. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. +Windsor Castle + +Enter SIR PIERCE OF EXTON and a servant + + EXTON. Didst thou not mark the King, what words he spake? + 'Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?' + Was it not so? + SERVANT. These were his very words. + EXTON. 'Have I no friend?' quoth he. He spake it twice + And urg'd it twice together, did he not? + SERVANT. He did. + EXTON. And, speaking it, he wishtly look'd on me, + As who should say 'I would thou wert the man + That would divorce this terror from my heart'; + Meaning the King at Pomfret. Come, let's go. + I am the King's friend, and will rid his foe. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 5. +Pomfret Castle. The dungeon of the Castle + +Enter KING RICHARD + + KING RICHARD. I have been studying how I may compare + This prison where I live unto the world + And, for because the world is populous + And here is not a creature but myself, + I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out. + My brain I'll prove the female to my soul, + My soul the father; and these two beget + A generation of still-breeding thoughts, + And these same thoughts people this little world, + In humours like the people of this world, + For no thought is contented. The better sort, + As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd + With scruples, and do set the word itself + Against the word, + As thus: 'Come, little ones'; and then again, + 'It is as hard to come as for a camel + To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.' + Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot + Unlikely wonders: how these vain weak nails + May tear a passage through the flinty ribs + Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls; + And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. + Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves + That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, + Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars + Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, + That many have and others must sit there; + And in this thought they find a kind of ease, + Bearing their own misfortunes on the back + Of such as have before endur'd the like. + Thus play I in one person many people, + And none contented. Sometimes am I king; + Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar, + And so I am. Then crushing penury + Persuades me I was better when a king; + Then am I king'd again; and by and by + Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, + And straight am nothing. But whate'er I be, + Nor I, nor any man that but man is, + With nothing shall be pleas'd till he be eas'd + With being nothing. [The music plays] + Music do I hear? + Ha, ha! keep time. How sour sweet music is + When time is broke and no proportion kept! + So is it in the music of men's lives. + And here have I the daintiness of ear + To check time broke in a disorder'd string; + But, for the concord of my state and time, + Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. + I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; + For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock: + My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar + Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, + Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, + Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. + Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is + Are clamorous groans which strike upon my heart, + Which is the bell. So sighs, and tears, and groans, + Show minutes, times, and hours; but my time + Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, + While I stand fooling here, his Jack of the clock. + This music mads me. Let it sound no more; + For though it have holp madmen to their wits, + In me it seems it will make wise men mad. + Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me! + For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard + Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. + + Enter a GROOM of the stable + + GROOM. Hail, royal Prince! + KING RICHARD. Thanks, noble peer! + The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. + What art thou? and how comest thou hither, + Where no man never comes but that sad dog + That brings me food to make misfortune live? + GROOM. I was a poor groom of thy stable, King, + When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York, + With much ado at length have gotten leave + To look upon my sometimes royal master's face. + O, how it ern'd my heart, when I beheld, + In London streets, that coronation-day, + When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary- + That horse that thou so often hast bestrid, + That horse that I so carefully have dress'd! + KING RICHARD. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, + How went he under him? + GROOM. So proudly as if he disdain'd the ground. + KING RICHARD. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! + That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; + This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. + Would he not stumble? would he not fall down, + Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck + Of that proud man that did usurp his back? + Forgiveness, horse! Why do I rail on thee, + Since thou, created to be aw'd by man, + Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse; + And yet I bear a burden like an ass, + Spurr'd, gall'd, and tir'd, by jauncing Bolingbroke. + + Enter KEEPER with meat + + KEEPER. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. + KING RICHARD. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. + GROOM. my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. + Exit + KEEPER. My lord, will't please you to fall to? + KING RICHARD. Taste of it first as thou art wont to do. + KEEPER. My lord, I dare not. Sir Pierce of Exton, + Who lately came from the King, commands the contrary. + KING RICHARD. The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee! + Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. + [Beats the KEEPER] + KEEPER. Help, help, help! + The murderers, EXTON and servants, rush in, armed + KING RICHARD. How now! What means death in this rude assault? + Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. + [Snatching a weapon and killing one] + Go thou and fill another room in hell. + [He kills another, then EXTON strikes him down] + That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire + That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand + Hath with the King's blood stain'd the King's own land. + Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; + Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. + [Dies] + EXTON. As full of valour as of royal blood. + Both have I spill'd. O, would the deed were good! + For now the devil, that told me I did well, + Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. + This dead King to the living King I'll bear. + Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 6. +Windsor Castle + +Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE, the DUKE OF YORK, With other LORDS +and attendants + + BOLINGBROKE. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear + Is that the rebels have consum'd with fire + Our town of Ciceter in Gloucestershire; + But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not. + + Enter NORTHUMBERLAND + + Welcome, my lord. What is the news? + NORTHUMBERLAND. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. + The next news is, I have to London sent + The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent. + The manner of their taking may appear + At large discoursed in this paper here. + BOLINGBROKE. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; + And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. + + Enter FITZWATER + + FITZWATER. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London + The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely; + Two of the dangerous consorted traitors + That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. + BOLINGBROKE. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; + Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. + + Enter PERCY, With the BISHOP OF CARLISLE + + PERCY. The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, + With clog of conscience and sour melancholy, + Hath yielded up his body to the grave; + But here is Carlisle living, to abide + Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride. + BOLINGBROKE. Carlisle, this is your doom: + Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, + More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; + So as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife; + For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, + High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. + + Enter EXTON, with attendants, hearing a coffin + + EXTON. Great King, within this coffin I present + Thy buried fear. Herein all breathless lies + The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, + Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. + BOLINGBROKE. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought + A deed of slander with thy fatal hand + Upon my head and all this famous land. + EXTON. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. + BOLINGBROKE. They love not poison that do poison need, + Nor do I thee. Though I did wish him dead, + I hate the murderer, love him murdered. + The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, + But neither my good word nor princely favour; + With Cain go wander thorough shades of night, + And never show thy head by day nor light. + Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe + That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. + Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, + And put on sullen black incontinent. + I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, + To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. + March sadly after; grace my mournings here + In weeping after this untimely bier. Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1593 + +KING RICHARD III + +by William Shakespeare + + +Dramatis Personae + + EDWARD THE FOURTH + + Sons to the King + EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES afterwards KING EDWARD V + RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK, + + Brothers to the King + GEORGE, DUKE OF CLARENCE, + RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, afterwards KING RICHARD III + + A YOUNG SON OF CLARENCE (Edward, Earl of Warwick) + HENRY, EARL OF RICHMOND, afterwards KING HENRY VII + CARDINAL BOURCHIER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY + THOMAS ROTHERHAM, ARCHBISHOP OF YORK + JOHN MORTON, BISHOP OF ELY + DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM + DUKE OF NORFOLK + EARL OF SURREY, his son + EARL RIVERS, brother to King Edward's Queen + MARQUIS OF DORSET and LORD GREY, her sons + EARL OF OXFORD + LORD HASTINGS + LORD LOVEL + LORD STANLEY, called also EARL OF DERBY + SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN + SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF + SIR WILLIAM CATESBY + SIR JAMES TYRREL + SIR JAMES BLOUNT + SIR WALTER HERBERT + SIR WILLIAM BRANDON + SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower + CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a priest + LORD MAYOR OF LONDON + SHERIFF OF WILTSHIRE + HASTINGS, a pursuivant + TRESSEL and BERKELEY, gentlemen attending on Lady Anne + ELIZABETH, Queen to King Edward IV + MARGARET, widow of King Henry VI + DUCHESS OF YORK, mother to King Edward IV + LADY ANNE, widow of Edward, Prince of Wales, son to King + Henry VI; afterwards married to the Duke of Gloucester + A YOUNG DAUGHTER OF CLARENCE (Margaret Plantagenet, + Countess of Salisbury) + Ghosts, of Richard's victims + Lords, Gentlemen, and Attendants; Priest, Scrivener, Page, Bishops, + Aldermen, Citizens, Soldiers, Messengers, Murderers, Keeper + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: England + +King Richard the Third + + + +ACT I. SCENE 1. + +London. A street + +Enter RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, solus + + GLOUCESTER. Now is the winter of our discontent + Made glorious summer by this sun of York; + And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house + In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. + Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; + Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; + Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, + Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. + Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front, + And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds + To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, + He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber + To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. + But I-that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, + Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass- + I-that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty + To strut before a wanton ambling nymph- + I-that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, + Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, + Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time + Into this breathing world scarce half made up, + And that so lamely and unfashionable + That dogs bark at me as I halt by them- + Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, + Have no delight to pass away the time, + Unless to spy my shadow in the sun + And descant on mine own deformity. + And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover + To entertain these fair well-spoken days, + I am determined to prove a villain + And hate the idle pleasures of these days. + Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, + By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, + To set my brother Clarence and the King + In deadly hate the one against the other; + And if King Edward be as true and just + As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, + This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up- + About a prophecy which says that G + Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. + Dive, thoughts, down to my soul. Here Clarence comes. + + Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY + + Brother, good day. What means this armed guard + That waits upon your Grace? + CLARENCE. His Majesty, + Tend'ring my person's safety, hath appointed + This conduct to convey me to th' Tower. + GLOUCESTER. Upon what cause? + CLARENCE. Because my name is George. + GLOUCESTER. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours: + He should, for that, commit your godfathers. + O, belike his Majesty hath some intent + That you should be new-christ'ned in the Tower. + But what's the matter, Clarence? May I know? + CLARENCE. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest + As yet I do not; but, as I can learn, + He hearkens after prophecies and dreams, + And from the cross-row plucks the letter G, + And says a wizard told him that by G + His issue disinherited should be; + And, for my name of George begins with G, + It follows in his thought that I am he. + These, as I learn, and such like toys as these + Hath mov'd his Highness to commit me now. + GLOUCESTER. Why, this it is when men are rul'd by women: + 'Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower; + My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she + That tempers him to this extremity. + Was it not she and that good man of worship, + Antony Woodville, her brother there, + That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, + From whence this present day he is delivered? + We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe. + CLARENCE. By heaven, I think there is no man is secure + But the Queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds + That trudge betwixt the King and Mistress Shore. + Heard you not what an humble suppliant + Lord Hastings was, for her delivery? + GLOUCESTER. Humbly complaining to her deity + Got my Lord Chamberlain his liberty. + I'll tell you what-I think it is our way, + If we will keep in favour with the King, + To be her men and wear her livery: + The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself, + Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen, + Are mighty gossips in our monarchy. + BRAKENBURY. I beseech your Graces both to pardon me: + His Majesty hath straitly given in charge + That no man shall have private conference, + Of what degree soever, with your brother. + GLOUCESTER. Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury, + You may partake of any thing we say: + We speak no treason, man; we say the King + Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen + Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous; + We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, + A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; + And that the Queen's kindred are made gentlefolks. + How say you, sir? Can you deny all this? + BRAKENBURY. With this, my lord, myself have naught to do. + GLOUCESTER. Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, + fellow, + He that doth naught with her, excepting one, + Were best to do it secretly alone. + BRAKENBURY. What one, my lord? + GLOUCESTER. Her husband, knave! Wouldst thou betray me? + BRAKENBURY. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, and + withal + Forbear your conference with the noble Duke. + CLARENCE. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will + obey. + GLOUCESTER. We are the Queen's abjects and must obey. + Brother, farewell; I will unto the King; + And whatsoe'er you will employ me in- + Were it to call King Edward's widow sister- + I will perform it to enfranchise you. + Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood + Touches me deeper than you can imagine. + CLARENCE. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. + GLOUCESTER. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; + I will deliver or else lie for you. + Meantime, have patience. + CLARENCE. I must perforce. Farewell. + Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and guard + GLOUCESTER. Go tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return. + Simple, plain Clarence, I do love thee so + That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, + If heaven will take the present at our hands. + But who comes here? The new-delivered Hastings? + + Enter LORD HASTINGS + + HASTINGS. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! + GLOUCESTER. As much unto my good Lord Chamberlain! + Well are you welcome to the open air. + How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? + HASTINGS. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must; + But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks + That were the cause of my imprisonment. + GLOUCESTER. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too; + For they that were your enemies are his, + And have prevail'd as much on him as you. + HASTINGS. More pity that the eagles should be mew'd + Whiles kites and buzzards prey at liberty. + GLOUCESTER. What news abroad? + HASTINGS. No news so bad abroad as this at home: + The King is sickly, weak, and melancholy, + And his physicians fear him mightily. + GLOUCESTER. Now, by Saint John, that news is bad indeed. + O, he hath kept an evil diet long + And overmuch consum'd his royal person! + 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. + Where is he? In his bed? + HASTINGS. He is. + GLOUCESTER. Go you before, and I will follow you. + Exit HASTINGS + He cannot live, I hope, and must not die + Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven. + I'll in to urge his hatred more to Clarence + With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; + And, if I fail not in my deep intent, + Clarence hath not another day to live; + Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, + And leave the world for me to bustle in! + For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter. + What though I kill'd her husband and her father? + The readiest way to make the wench amends + Is to become her husband and her father; + The which will I-not all so much for love + As for another secret close intent + By marrying her which I must reach unto. + But yet I run before my horse to market. + Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns; + When they are gone, then must I count my gains. Exit + + + + +SCENE 2. + +London. Another street + +Enter corpse of KING HENRY THE SIXTH, with halberds to guard it; +LADY ANNE being the mourner, attended by TRESSEL and BERKELEY + + ANNE. Set down, set down your honourable load- + If honour may be shrouded in a hearse; + Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament + Th' untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. + Poor key-cold figure of a holy king! + Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster! + Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! + Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost + To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, + Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son, + Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds. + Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life + I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. + O, cursed be the hand that made these holes! + Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it! + Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence! + More direful hap betide that hated wretch + That makes us wretched by the death of thee + Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, + Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives! + If ever he have child, abortive be it, + Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, + Whose ugly and unnatural aspect + May fright the hopeful mother at the view, + And that be heir to his unhappiness! + If ever he have wife, let her be made + More miserable by the death of him + Than I am made by my young lord and thee! + Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load, + Taken from Paul's to be interred there; + And still as you are weary of this weight + Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse. + [The bearers take up the coffin] + + Enter GLOUCESTER + + GLOUCESTER. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down. + ANNE. What black magician conjures up this fiend + To stop devoted charitable deeds? + GLOUCESTER. Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul, + I'll make a corse of him that disobeys! + FIRST GENTLEMAN. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin + pass. + GLOUCESTER. Unmannerd dog! Stand thou, when I command. + Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, + Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot + And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. + [The bearers set down the coffin] + ANNE. What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid? + Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal, + And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. + Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! + Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, + His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone. + GLOUCESTER. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. + ANNE. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence and trouble us not; + For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell + Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. + If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, + Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. + O, gentlemen, see, see! Dead Henry's wounds + Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh. + Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity, + For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood + From cold and empty veins where no blood dwells; + Thy deeds inhuman and unnatural + Provokes this deluge most unnatural. + O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death! + O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death! + Either, heav'n, with lightning strike the murd'rer dead; + Or, earth, gape open wide and eat him quick, + As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, + Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered. + GLOUCESTER. Lady, you know no rules of charity, + Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. + ANNE. Villain, thou knowest nor law of God nor man: + No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. + GLOUCESTER. But I know none, and therefore am no beast. + ANNE. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! + GLOUCESTER. More wonderful when angels are so angry. + Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, + Of these supposed crimes to give me leave + By circumstance but to acquit myself. + ANNE. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, + Of these known evils but to give me leave + By circumstance to accuse thy cursed self. + GLOUCESTER. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have + Some patient leisure to excuse myself. + ANNE. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make + No excuse current but to hang thyself. + GLOUCESTER. By such despair I should accuse myself. + ANNE. And by despairing shalt thou stand excused + For doing worthy vengeance on thyself + That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. + GLOUCESTER. Say that I slew them not? + ANNE. Then say they were not slain. + But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. + GLOUCESTER. I did not kill your husband. + ANNE. Why, then he is alive. + GLOUCESTER. Nay, he is dead, and slain by Edward's hands. + ANNE. In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw + Thy murd'rous falchion smoking in his blood; + The which thou once didst bend against her breast, + But that thy brothers beat aside the point. + GLOUCESTER. I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue + That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. + ANNE. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, + That never dream'st on aught but butcheries. + Didst thou not kill this king? + GLOUCESTER. I grant ye. + ANNE. Dost grant me, hedgehog? Then, God grant me to + Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed! + O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous! + GLOUCESTER. The better for the King of Heaven, that hath + him. + ANNE. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. + GLOUCESTER. Let him thank me that holp to send him + thither, + For he was fitter for that place than earth. + ANNE. And thou unfit for any place but hell. + GLOUCESTER. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. + ANNE. Some dungeon. + GLOUCESTER. Your bed-chamber. + ANNE. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest! + GLOUCESTER. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. + ANNE. I hope so. + GLOUCESTER. I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne, + To leave this keen encounter of our wits, + And fall something into a slower method- + Is not the causer of the timeless deaths + Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, + As blameful as the executioner? + ANNE. Thou wast the cause and most accurs'd effect. + GLOUCESTER. Your beauty was the cause of that effect- + Your beauty that did haunt me in my sleep + To undertake the death of all the world + So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. + ANNE. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, + These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. + GLOUCESTER. These eyes could not endure that beauty's + wreck; + You should not blemish it if I stood by. + As all the world is cheered by the sun, + So I by that; it is my day, my life. + ANNE. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life! + GLOUCESTER. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both. + ANNE. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee. + GLOUCESTER. It is a quarrel most unnatural, + To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. + ANNE. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, + To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband. + GLOUCESTER. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband + Did it to help thee to a better husband. + ANNE. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. + GLOUCESTER. He lives that loves thee better than he could. + ANNE. Name him. + GLOUCESTER. Plantagenet. + ANNE. Why, that was he. + GLOUCESTER. The self-same name, but one of better nature. + ANNE. Where is he? + GLOUCESTER. Here. [She spits at him] Why dost thou spit + at me? + ANNE. Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! + GLOUCESTER. Never came poison from so sweet a place. + ANNE. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. + Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes. + GLOUCESTER. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. + ANNE. Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead! + GLOUCESTER. I would they were, that I might die at once; + For now they kill me with a living death. + Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, + Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops- + These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear, + No, when my father York and Edward wept + To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made + When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him; + Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, + Told the sad story of my father's death, + And twenty times made pause to sob and weep + That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks + Like trees bedash'd with rain-in that sad time + My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; + And what these sorrows could not thence exhale + Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. + I never sued to friend nor enemy; + My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; + But, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, + My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. + [She looks scornfully at him] + Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made + For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. + If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, + Lo here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; + Which if thou please to hide in this true breast + And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, + I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, + And humbly beg the death upon my knee. + [He lays his breast open; she offers at it with his sword] + Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry- + But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. + Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward- + But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. + [She falls the sword] + Take up the sword again, or take up me. + ANNE. Arise, dissembler; though I wish thy death, + I will not be thy executioner. + GLOUCESTER. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it; + ANNE. I have already. + GLOUCESTER. That was in thy rage. + Speak it again, and even with the word + This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love, + Shall for thy love kill a far truer love; + To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary. + ANNE. I would I knew thy heart. + GLOUCESTER. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue. + ANNE. I fear me both are false. + GLOUCESTER. Then never was man true. + ANNE. well put up your sword. + GLOUCESTER. Say, then, my peace is made. + ANNE. That shalt thou know hereafter. + GLOUCESTER. But shall I live in hope? + ANNE. All men, I hope, live so. + GLOUCESTER. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. + ANNE. To take is not to give. [Puts on the ring] + GLOUCESTER. Look how my ring encompasseth thy finger, + Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; + Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. + And if thy poor devoted servant may + But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, + Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. + ANNE. What is it? + GLOUCESTER. That it may please you leave these sad designs + To him that hath most cause to be a mourner, + And presently repair to Crosby House; + Where-after I have solemnly interr'd + At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king, + And wet his grave with my repentant tears- + I will with all expedient duty see you. + For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, + Grant me this boon. + ANNE. With all my heart; and much it joys me too + To see you are become so penitent. + Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me. + GLOUCESTER. Bid me farewell. + ANNE. 'Tis more than you deserve; + But since you teach me how to flatter you, + Imagine I have said farewell already. + Exeunt two GENTLEMEN With LADY ANNE + GLOUCESTER. Sirs, take up the corse. + GENTLEMEN. Towards Chertsey, noble lord? + GLOUCESTER. No, to White Friars; there attend my coming. + Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER + Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? + Was ever woman in this humour won? + I'll have her; but I will not keep her long. + What! I that kill'd her husband and his father- + To take her in her heart's extremest hate, + With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, + The bleeding witness of my hatred by; + Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, + And I no friends to back my suit at all + But the plain devil and dissembling looks, + And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! + Ha! + Hath she forgot already that brave prince, + Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, + Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? + A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman- + Fram'd in the prodigality of nature, + Young, valiant, wise, and no doubt right royal- + The spacious world cannot again afford; + And will she yet abase her eyes on me, + That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince + And made her widow to a woeful bed? + On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? + On me, that halts and am misshapen thus? + My dukedom to a beggarly denier, + I do mistake my person all this while. + Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, + Myself to be a marv'llous proper man. + I'll be at charges for a looking-glass, + And entertain a score or two of tailors + To study fashions to adorn my body. + Since I am crept in favour with myself, + I will maintain it with some little cost. + But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave, + And then return lamenting to my love. + Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, + That I may see my shadow as I pass. Exit + + + + +SCENE 3. + +London. The palace + +Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD RIVERS, and LORD GREY + + RIVERS. Have patience, madam; there's no doubt his Majesty + Will soon recover his accustom'd health. + GREY. In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse; + Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, + And cheer his Grace with quick and merry eyes. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. If he were dead, what would betide on + me? + GREY. No other harm but loss of such a lord. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. The loss of such a lord includes all + harms. + GREY. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son + To be your comforter when he is gone. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah, he is young; and his minority + Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester, + A man that loves not me, nor none of you. + RIVER. Is it concluded he shall be Protector? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. It is determin'd, not concluded yet; + But so it must be, if the King miscarry. + + Enter BUCKINGHAM and DERBY + + GREY. Here come the Lords of Buckingham and Derby. + BUCKINGHAM. Good time of day unto your royal Grace! + DERBY. God make your Majesty joyful as you have been. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. The Countess Richmond, good my Lord + of Derby, + To your good prayer will scarcely say amen. + Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife + And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd + I hate not you for her proud arrogance. + DERBY. I do beseech you, either not believe + The envious slanders of her false accusers; + Or, if she be accus'd on true report, + Bear with her weakness, which I think proceeds + From wayward sickness and no grounded malice. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Saw you the King to-day, my Lord of + Derby? + DERBY. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I + Are come from visiting his Majesty. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. What likelihood of his amendment, + Lords? + BUCKINGHAM. Madam, good hope; his Grace speaks + cheerfully. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. God grant him health! Did you confer + with him? + BUCKINGHAM. Ay, madam; he desires to make atonement + Between the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers, + And between them and my Lord Chamberlain; + And sent to warn them to his royal presence. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Would all were well! But that will + never be. + I fear our happiness is at the height. + + Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET + + GLOUCESTER. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it. + Who is it that complains unto the King + That I, forsooth, am stern and love them not? + By holy Paul, they love his Grace but lightly + That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. + Because I cannot flatter and look fair, + Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, + Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, + I must be held a rancorous enemy. + Cannot a plain man live and think no harm + But thus his simple truth must be abus'd + With silken, sly, insinuating Jacks? + GREY. To who in all this presence speaks your Grace? + GLOUCESTER. To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. + When have I injur'd thee? when done thee wrong, + Or thee, or thee, or any of your faction? + A plague upon you all! His royal Grace- + Whom God preserve better than you would wish!- + Cannot be quiet searce a breathing while + But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the + matter. + The King, on his own royal disposition + And not provok'd by any suitor else- + Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred + That in your outward action shows itself + Against my children, brothers, and myself- + Makes him to send that he may learn the ground. + GLOUCESTER. I cannot tell; the world is grown so bad + That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch. + Since every Jack became a gentleman, + There's many a gentle person made a Jack. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Come, come, we know your meaning, + brother Gloucester: + You envy my advancement and my friends'; + God grant we never may have need of you! + GLOUCESTER. Meantime, God grants that I have need of you. + Our brother is imprison'd by your means, + Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility + Held in contempt; while great promotions + Are daily given to ennoble those + That scarce some two days since were worth a noble. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. By Him that rais'd me to this careful + height + From that contented hap which I enjoy'd, + I never did incense his Majesty + Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been + An earnest advocate to plead for him. + My lord, you do me shameful injury + Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. + GLOUCESTER. You may deny that you were not the mean + Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment. + RIVERS. She may, my lord; for- + GLOUCESTER. She may, Lord Rivers? Why, who knows + not so? + She may do more, sir, than denying that: + She may help you to many fair preferments + And then deny her aiding hand therein, + And lay those honours on your high desert. + What may she not? She may-ay, marry, may she- + RIVERS. What, marry, may she? + GLOUCESTER. What, marry, may she? Marry with a king, + A bachelor, and a handsome stripling too. + Iwis your grandam had a worser match. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long + borne + Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs. + By heaven, I will acquaint his Majesty + Of those gross taunts that oft I have endur'd. + I had rather be a country servant-maid + Than a great queen with this condition- + To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at. + + Enter old QUEEN MARGARET, behind + + Small joy have I in being England's Queen. + QUEEN MARGARET. And less'ned be that small, God, I + beseech Him! + Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me. + GLOUCESTER. What! Threat you me with telling of the + King? + Tell him and spare not. Look what I have said + I will avouch't in presence of the King. + I dare adventure to be sent to th' Tow'r. + 'Tis time to speak-my pains are quite forgot. + QUEEN MARGARET. Out, devil! I do remember them to + well: + Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower, + And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. + GLOUCESTER. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband + King, + I was a pack-horse in his great affairs, + A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, + A liberal rewarder of his friends; + To royalize his blood I spent mine own. + QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, and much better blood than his or + thine. + GLOUCESTER. In all which time you and your husband Grey + Were factious for the house of Lancaster; + And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband + In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain? + Let me put in your minds, if you forget, + What you have been ere this, and what you are; + Withal, what I have been, and what I am. + QUEEN MARGARET. A murd'rous villain, and so still thou art. + GLOUCESTER. Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick, + Ay, and forswore himself-which Jesu pardon!- + QUEEN MARGARET. Which God revenge! + GLOUCESTER. To fight on Edward's party for the crown; + And for his meed, poor lord, he is mewed up. + I would to God my heart were flint like Edward's, + Or Edward's soft and pitiful like mine. + I am too childish-foolish for this world. + QUEEN MARGARET. Hie thee to hell for shame and leave this + world, + Thou cacodemon; there thy kingdom is. + RIVERS. My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days + Which here you urge to prove us enemies, + We follow'd then our lord, our sovereign king. + So should we you, if you should be our king. + GLOUCESTER. If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar. + Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof! + QUEEN ELIZABETH. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose + You should enjoy were you this country's king, + As little joy you may suppose in me + That I enjoy, being the Queen thereof. + QUEEN MARGARET. As little joy enjoys the Queen thereof; + For I am she, and altogether joyless. + I can no longer hold me patient. [Advancing] + Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out + In sharing that which you have pill'd from me. + Which of you trembles not that looks on me? + If not that, I am Queen, you bow like subjects, + Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels? + Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away! + GLOUCESTER. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in my + sight? + QUEEN MARGARET. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd, + That will I make before I let thee go. + GLOUCESTER. Wert thou not banished on pain of death? + QUEEN MARGARET. I was; but I do find more pain in + banishment + Than death can yield me here by my abode. + A husband and a son thou ow'st to me; + And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance. + This sorrow that I have by right is yours; + And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. + GLOUCESTER. The curse my noble father laid on thee, + When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper + And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes, + And then to dry them gav'st the Duke a clout + Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland- + His curses then from bitterness of soul + Denounc'd against thee are all fall'n upon thee; + And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. So just is God to right the innocent. + HASTINGS. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe, + And the most merciless that e'er was heard of! + RIVERS. Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported. + DORSET. No man but prophesied revenge for it. + BUCKINGHAM. Northumberland, then present, wept to see it. + QUEEN MARGARET. What, were you snarling all before I came, + Ready to catch each other by the throat, + And turn you all your hatred now on me? + Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven + That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, + Their kingdom's loss, my woeful banishment, + Should all but answer for that peevish brat? + Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven? + Why then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses! + Though not by war, by surfeit die your king, + As ours by murder, to make him a king! + Edward thy son, that now is Prince of Wales, + For Edward our son, that was Prince of Wales, + Die in his youth by like untimely violence! + Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, + Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! + Long mayest thou live to wail thy children's death, + And see another, as I see thee now, + Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine! + Long die thy happy days before thy death; + And, after many length'ned hours of grief, + Die neither mother, wife, nor England's Queen! + Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by, + And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son + Was stabb'd with bloody daggers. God, I pray him, + That none of you may live his natural age, + But by some unlook'd accident cut off! + GLOUCESTER. Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd + hag. + QUEEN MARGARET. And leave out thee? Stay, dog, for thou + shalt hear me. + If heaven have any grievous plague in store + Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, + O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe, + And then hurl down their indignation + On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace! + The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul! + Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st, + And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! + No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, + Unless it be while some tormenting dream + Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! + Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog, + Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity + The slave of nature and the son of hell, + Thou slander of thy heavy mother's womb, + Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins, + Thou rag of honour, thou detested- + GLOUCESTER. Margaret! + QUEEN MARGARET. Richard! + GLOUCESTER. Ha? + QUEEN MARGARET. I call thee not. + GLOUCESTER. I cry thee mercy then, for I did think + That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names. + QUEEN MARGARET. Why, so I did, but look'd for no reply. + O, let me make the period to my curse! + GLOUCESTER. 'Tis done by me, and ends in-Margaret. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Thus have you breath'd your curse + against yourself. + QUEEN MARGARET. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my + fortune! + Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider + Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? + Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. + The day will come that thou shalt wish for me + To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-back'd toad. + HASTINGS. False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse, + Lest to thy harm thou move our patience. + QUEEN MARGARET. Foul shame upon you! you have all + mov'd mine. + RIVERS. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught your + duty. + QUEEN MARGARET. To serve me well you all should do me + duty, + Teach me to be your queen and you my subjects. + O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty! + DORSET. Dispute not with her; she is lunatic. + QUEEN MARGARET. Peace, Master Marquis, you are malapert; + Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current. + O, that your young nobility could judge + What 'twere to lose it and be miserable! + They that stand high have many blasts to shake them, + And if they fall they dash themselves to pieces. + GLOUCESTER. Good counsel, marry; learn it, learn it, Marquis. + DORSET. It touches you, my lord, as much as me. + GLOUCESTER. Ay, and much more; but I was born so high, + Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top, + And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. + QUEEN MARGARET. And turns the sun to shade-alas! alas! + Witness my son, now in the shade of death, + Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath + Hath in eternal darkness folded up. + Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest. + O God that seest it, do not suffer it; + As it is won with blood, lost be it so! + BUCKINGHAM. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity! + QUEEN MARGARET. Urge neither charity nor shame to me. + Uncharitably with me have you dealt, + And shamefully my hopes by you are butcher'd. + My charity is outrage, life my shame; + And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage! + BUCKINGHAM. Have done, have done. + QUEEN MARGARET. O princely Buckingham, I'll kiss thy + hand + In sign of league and amity with thee. + Now fair befall thee and thy noble house! + Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, + Nor thou within the compass of my curse. + BUCKINGHAM. Nor no one here; for curses never pass + The lips of those that breathe them in the air. + QUEEN MARGARET. I will not think but they ascend the sky + And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. + O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog! + Look when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites, + His venom tooth will rankle to the death: + Have not to do with him, beware of him; + Sin, death, and hell, have set their marks on him, + And all their ministers attend on him. + GLOUCESTER. What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham? + BUCKINGHAM. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. + QUEEN MARGARET. What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle + counsel, + And soothe the devil that I warn thee from? + O, but remember this another day, + When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow, + And say poor Margaret was a prophetess! + Live each of you the subjects to his hate, + And he to yours, and all of you to God's! Exit + BUCKINGHAM. My hair doth stand an end to hear her curses. + RIVERS. And so doth mine. I muse why she's at liberty. + GLOUCESTER. I cannot blame her; by God's holy Mother, + She hath had too much wrong; and I repent + My part thereof that I have done to her. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. I never did her any to my knowledge. + GLOUCESTER. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong. + I was too hot to do somebody good + That is too cold in thinking of it now. + Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid; + He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains; + God pardon them that are the cause thereof! + RIVERS. A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion, + To pray for them that have done scathe to us! + GLOUCESTER. So do I ever- [Aside] being well advis'd; + For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself. + + Enter CATESBY + + CATESBY. Madam, his Majesty doth can for you, + And for your Grace, and you, my gracious lords. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Catesby, I come. Lords, will you go + with me? + RIVERS. We wait upon your Grace. + Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER + GLOUCESTER. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. + The secret mischiefs that I set abroach + I lay unto the grievous charge of others. + Clarence, who I indeed have cast in darkness, + I do beweep to many simple gulls; + Namely, to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham; + And tell them 'tis the Queen and her allies + That stir the King against the Duke my brother. + Now they believe it, and withal whet me + To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorset, Grey; + But then I sigh and, with a piece of Scripture, + Tell them that God bids us do good for evil. + And thus I clothe my naked villainy + With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ, + And seem a saint when most I play the devil. + + Enter two MURDERERS + + But, soft, here come my executioners. + How now, my hardy stout resolved mates! + Are you now going to dispatch this thing? + FIRST MURDERER. We are, my lord, and come to have the + warrant, + That we may be admitted where he is. + GLOUCESTER. Well thought upon; I have it here about me. + [Gives the warrant] + When you have done, repair to Crosby Place. + But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, + Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; + For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps + May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. + FIRST MURDERER. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to + prate; + Talkers are no good doers. Be assur'd + We go to use our hands and not our tongues. + GLOUCESTER. Your eyes drop millstones when fools' eyes fall + tears. + I like you, lads; about your business straight; + Go, go, dispatch. + FIRST MURDERER. We will, my noble lord. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +London. The Tower + +Enter CLARENCE and KEEPER + + KEEPER. Why looks your Grace so heavily to-day? + CLARENCE. O, I have pass'd a miserable night, + So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, + That, as I am a Christian faithful man, + I would not spend another such a night + Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days- + So full of dismal terror was the time! + KEEPER. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you + tell me. + CLARENCE. Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower + And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; + And in my company my brother Gloucester, + Who from my cabin tempted me to walk + Upon the hatches. Thence we look'd toward England, + And cited up a thousand heavy times, + During the wars of York and Lancaster, + That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along + Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, + Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling + Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard + Into the tumbling billows of the main. + O Lord, methought what pain it was to drown, + What dreadful noise of waters in my ears, + What sights of ugly death within my eyes! + Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wrecks, + A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon, + Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, + Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, + All scatt'red in the bottom of the sea; + Some lay in dead men's skulls, and in the holes + Where eyes did once inhabit there were crept, + As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, + That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep + And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatt'red by. + KEEPER. Had you such leisure in the time of death + To gaze upon these secrets of the deep? + CLARENCE. Methought I had; and often did I strive + To yield the ghost, but still the envious flood + Stopp'd in my soul and would not let it forth + To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring air; + But smother'd it within my panting bulk, + Who almost burst to belch it in the sea. + KEEPER. Awak'd you not in this sore agony? + CLARENCE. No, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life. + O, then began the tempest to my soul! + I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood + With that sour ferryman which poets write of, + Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. + The first that there did greet my stranger soul + Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, + Who spake aloud 'What scourge for perjury + Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?' + And so he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by + A shadow like an angel, with bright hair + Dabbled in blood, and he shriek'd out aloud + 'Clarence is come-false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence, + That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury. + Seize on him, Furies, take him unto torment!' + With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends + Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears + Such hideous cries that, with the very noise, + I trembling wak'd, and for a season after + Could not believe but that I was in hell, + Such terrible impression made my dream. + KEEPER. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you; + I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. + CLARENCE. Ah, Keeper, Keeper, I have done these things + That now give evidence against my soul + For Edward's sake, and see how he requites me! + O God! If my deep prayers cannot appease Thee, + But Thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, + Yet execute Thy wrath in me alone; + O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children! + KEEPER, I prithee sit by me awhile; + My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. + KEEPER. I will, my lord. God give your Grace good rest. + [CLARENCE sleeps] + + Enter BRAKENBURY the Lieutenant + + BRAKENBURY. Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, + Makes the night morning and the noontide night. + Princes have but their titles for their glories, + An outward honour for an inward toil; + And for unfelt imaginations + They often feel a world of restless cares, + So that between their tides and low name + There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + + Enter the two MURDERERS + + FIRST MURDERER. Ho! who's here? + BRAKENBURY. What wouldst thou, fellow, and how cam'st + thou hither? + FIRST MURDERER. I would speak with Clarence, and I came + hither on my legs. + BRAKENBURY. What, so brief? + SECOND MURDERER. 'Tis better, sir, than to be tedious. Let + him see our commission and talk no more. + [BRAKENBURY reads it] + BRAKENBURY. I am, in this, commanded to deliver + The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands. + I will not reason what is meant hereby, + Because I will be guiltless from the meaning. + There lies the Duke asleep; and there the keys. + I'll to the King and signify to him + That thus I have resign'd to you my charge. + FIRST MURDERER. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom. Fare + you well. Exeunt BRAKENBURY and KEEPER + SECOND MURDERER. What, shall I stab him as he sleeps? + FIRST MURDERER. No; he'll say 'twas done cowardly, when + he wakes. + SECOND MURDERER. Why, he shall never wake until the great + judgment-day. + FIRST MURDERER. Why, then he'll say we stabb'd him + sleeping. + SECOND MURDERER. The urging of that word judgment hath + bred a kind of remorse in me. + FIRST MURDERER. What, art thou afraid? + SECOND MURDERER. Not to kill him, having a warrant; but to + be damn'd for killing him, from the which no warrant can + defend me. + FIRST MURDERER. I thought thou hadst been resolute. + SECOND MURDERER. So I am, to let him live. + FIRST MURDERER. I'll back to the Duke of Gloucester and + tell him so. + SECOND MURDERER. Nay, I prithee, stay a little. I hope this + passionate humour of mine will change; it was wont to + hold me but while one tells twenty. + FIRST MURDERER. How dost thou feel thyself now? + SECOND MURDERER. Faith, some certain dregs of conscience + are yet within me. + FIRST MURDERER. Remember our reward, when the deed's + done. + SECOND MURDERER. Zounds, he dies; I had forgot the reward. + FIRST MURDERER. Where's thy conscience now? + SECOND MURDERER. O, in the Duke of Gloucester's purse! + FIRST MURDERER. When he opens his purse to give us our + reward, thy conscience flies out. + SECOND MURDERER. 'Tis no matter; let it go; there's few or + none will entertain it. + FIRST MURDERER. What if it come to thee again? + SECOND MURDERER. I'll not meddle with it-it makes a man + coward: a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; a man + cannot swear, but it checks him; a man cannot lie with his + neighbour's wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing shame- + fac'd spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills a man + full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold + that-by chance I found. It beggars any man that keeps it. + It is turn'd out of towns and cities for a dangerous thing; + and every man that means to live well endeavours to trust + to himself and live without it. + FIRST MURDERER. Zounds, 'tis even now at my elbow, + persuading me not to kill the Duke. + SECOND MURDERER. Take the devil in thy mind and believe + him not; he would insinuate with thee but to make the + sigh. + FIRST MURDERER. I am strong-fram'd; he cannot prevail with + me. + SECOND MURDERER. Spoke like a tall man that respects thy + reputation. Come, shall we fall to work? + FIRST MURDERER. Take him on the costard with the hilts of + thy sword, and then chop him in the malmsey-butt in the + next room. + SECOND MURDERER. O excellent device! and make a sop of + him. + FIRST MURDERER. Soft! he wakes. + SECOND MURDERER. Strike! + FIRST MURDERER. No, we'll reason with him. + CLARENCE. Where art thou, Keeper? Give me a cup of wine. + SECOND MURDERER. You shall have wine enough, my lord, + anon. + CLARENCE. In God's name, what art thou? + FIRST MURDERER. A man, as you are. + CLARENCE. But not as I am, royal. + SECOND MURDERER. Nor you as we are, loyal. + CLARENCE. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. + FIRST MURDERER. My voice is now the King's, my looks + mine own. + CLARENCE. How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak! + Your eyes do menace me. Why look you pale? + Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? + SECOND MURDERER. To, to, to- + CLARENCE. To murder me? + BOTH MURDERERS. Ay, ay. + CLARENCE. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, + And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. + Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? + FIRST MURDERER. Offended us you have not, but the King. + CLARENCE. I shall be reconcil'd to him again. + SECOND MURDERER. Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die. + CLARENCE. Are you drawn forth among a world of men + To slay the innocent? What is my offence? + Where is the evidence that doth accuse me? + What lawful quest have given their verdict up + Unto the frowning judge, or who pronounc'd + The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death? + Before I be convict by course of law, + To threaten me with death is most unlawful. + I charge you, as you hope to have redemption + By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, + That you depart and lay no hands on me. + The deed you undertake is damnable. + FIRST MURDERER. What we will do, we do upon command. + SECOND MURDERER. And he that hath commanded is our + King. + CLARENCE. Erroneous vassals! the great King of kings + Hath in the tables of his law commanded + That thou shalt do no murder. Will you then + Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's? + Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand + To hurl upon their heads that break his law. + SECOND MURDERER. And that same vengeance doth he hurl + on thee + For false forswearing, and for murder too; + Thou didst receive the sacrament to fight + In quarrel of the house of Lancaster. + FIRST MURDERER. And like a traitor to the name of God + Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade + Unripp'dst the bowels of thy sov'reign's son. + SECOND MURDERER. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and + defend. + FIRST MURDERER. How canst thou urge God's dreadful law + to us, + When thou hast broke it in such dear degree? + CLARENCE. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed? + For Edward, for my brother, for his sake. + He sends you not to murder me for this, + For in that sin he is as deep as I. + If God will be avenged for the deed, + O, know you yet He doth it publicly. + Take not the quarrel from His pow'rful arm; + He needs no indirect or lawless course + To cut off those that have offended Him. + FIRST MURDERER. Who made thee then a bloody minister + When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet, + That princely novice, was struck dead by thee? + CLARENCE. My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. + FIRST MURDERER. Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy + faults, + Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. + CLARENCE. If you do love my brother, hate not me; + I am his brother, and I love him well. + If you are hir'd for meed, go back again, + And I will send you to my brother Gloucester, + Who shall reward you better for my life + Than Edward will for tidings of my death. + SECOND MURDERER. You are deceiv'd: your brother Gloucester + hates you. + CLARENCE. O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear. + Go you to him from me. + FIRST MURDERER. Ay, so we will. + CLARENCE. Tell him when that our princely father York + Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm + And charg'd us from his soul to love each other, + He little thought of this divided friendship. + Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep. + FIRST MURDERER. Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep. + CLARENCE. O, do not slander him, for he is kind. + FIRST MURDERER. Right, as snow in harvest. Come, you + deceive yourself: + 'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here. + CLARENCE. It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune + And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore with sobs + That he would labour my delivery. + FIRST MURDERER. Why, so he doth, when he delivers you + From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. + SECOND MURDERER. Make peace with God, for you must die, + my lord. + CLARENCE. Have you that holy feeling in your souls + To counsel me to make my peace with God, + And are you yet to your own souls so blind + That you will war with God by murd'ring me? + O, sirs, consider: they that set you on + To do this deed will hate you for the deed. + SECOND MURDERER. What shall we do? + CLARENCE. Relent, and save your souls. + FIRST MURDERER. Relent! No, 'tis cowardly and womanish. + CLARENCE. Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish. + Which of you, if you were a prince's son, + Being pent from liberty as I am now, + If two such murderers as yourselves came to you, + Would not entreat for life? + My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks; + O, if thine eye be not a flatterer, + Come thou on my side and entreat for me- + As you would beg were you in my distress. + A begging prince what beggar pities not? + SECOND MURDERER. Look behind you, my lord. + FIRST MURDERER. [Stabbing him] Take that, and that. If all + this will not do, + I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. + Exit with the body + SECOND MURDERER. A bloody deed, and desperately + dispatch'd! + How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands + Of this most grievous murder! + + Re-enter FIRST MURDERER + + FIRST MURDERER-How now, what mean'st thou that thou + help'st me not? + By heavens, the Duke shall know how slack you have + been! + SECOND MURDERER. I would he knew that I had sav'd his + brother! + Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; + For I repent me that the Duke is slain. Exit + FIRST MURDERER. So do not I. Go, coward as thou art. + Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole, + Till that the Duke give order for his burial; + And when I have my meed, I will away; + For this will out, and then I must not stay. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE 1. + +London. The palace + +Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD sick, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, +HASTINGS, BUCKINGHAM, GREY, and others + + KING EDWARD. Why, so. Now have I done a good day's + work. + You peers, continue this united league. + I every day expect an embassage + From my Redeemer to redeem me hence; + And more at peace my soul shall part to heaven, + Since I have made my friends at peace on earth. + Hastings and Rivers, take each other's hand; + Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. + RIVERS. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; + And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. + HASTINGS. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! + KING EDWARD. Take heed you dally not before your king; + Lest He that is the supreme King of kings + Confound your hidden falsehood and award + Either of you to be the other's end. + HASTINGS. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love! + RIVERS. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart! + KING EDWARD. Madam, yourself is not exempt from this; + Nor you, son Dorset; Buckingham, nor you: + You have been factious one against the other. + Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand; + And what you do, do it unfeignedly. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. There, Hastings; I will never more + remember + Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine! + KING EDWARD. Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love Lord + Marquis. + DORSET. This interchange of love, I here protest, + Upon my part shall be inviolable. + HASTINGS. And so swear I. [They embrace] + KING EDWARD. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this + league + With thy embracements to my wife's allies, + And make me happy in your unity. + BUCKINGHAM. [To the QUEEN] Whenever Buckingham + doth turn his hate + Upon your Grace, but with all duteous love + Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me + With hate in those where I expect most love! + When I have most need to employ a friend + And most assured that he is a friend, + Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, + Be he unto me! This do I beg of God + When I am cold in love to you or yours. + [They embrace] + KING EDWARD. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, + Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. + There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here + To make the blessed period of this peace. + BUCKINGHAM. And, in good time, + Here comes Sir Richard Ratcliff and the Duke. + + Enter GLOUCESTER, and RATCLIFF + + GLOUCESTER. Good morrow to my sovereign king and + Queen; + And, princely peers, a happy time of day! + KING EDWARD. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day. + Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, + Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, + Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. + GLOUCESTER. A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord. + Among this princely heap, if any here, + By false intelligence or wrong surmise, + Hold me a foe- + If I unwittingly, or in my rage, + Have aught committed that is hardly borne + To any in this presence, I desire + To reconcile me to his friendly peace: + 'Tis death to me to be at enmity; + I hate it, and desire all good men's love. + First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, + Which I will purchase with my duteous service; + Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, + If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us; + Of you, and you, Lord Rivers, and of Dorset, + That all without desert have frown'd on me; + Of you, Lord Woodville, and, Lord Scales, of you; + Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen-indeed, of all. + I do not know that Englishman alive + With whom my soul is any jot at odds + More than the infant that is born to-night. + I thank my God for my humility. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. A holy day shall this be kept hereafter. + I would to God all strifes were well compounded. + My sovereign lord, I do beseech your Highness + To take our brother Clarence to your grace. + GLOUCESTER. Why, madam, have I off'red love for this, + To be so flouted in this royal presence? + Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead? + [They all start] + You do him injury to scorn his corse. + KING EDWARD. Who knows not he is dead! Who knows + he is? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this! + BUCKINGHAM. Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest? + DORSET. Ay, my good lord; and no man in the presence + But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. + KING EDWARD. Is Clarence dead? The order was revers'd. + GLOUCESTER. But he, poor man, by your first order died, + And that a winged Mercury did bear; + Some tardy cripple bare the countermand + That came too lag to see him buried. + God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, + Nearer in bloody thoughts, an not in blood, + Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, + And yet go current from suspicion! + + Enter DERBY + + DERBY. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! + KING EDWARD. I prithee, peace; my soul is full of sorrow. + DERBY. I Will not rise unless your Highness hear me. + KING EDWARD. Then say at once what is it thou requests. + DERBY. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; + Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman + Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. + KING EDWARD. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death, + And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? + My brother killed no man-his fault was thought, + And yet his punishment was bitter death. + Who sued to me for him? Who, in my wrath, + Kneel'd at my feet, and bid me be advis'd? + Who spoke of brotherhood? Who spoke of love? + Who told me how the poor soul did forsake + The mighty Warwick and did fight for me? + Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury + When Oxford had me down, he rescued me + And said 'Dear Brother, live, and be a king'? + Who told me, when we both lay in the field + Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me + Even in his garments, and did give himself, + All thin and naked, to the numb cold night? + All this from my remembrance brutish wrath + Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you + Had so much race to put it in my mind. + But when your carters or your waiting-vassals + Have done a drunken slaughter and defac'd + The precious image of our dear Redeemer, + You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon; + And I, unjustly too, must grant it you. [DERBY rises] + But for my brother not a man would speak; + Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself + For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all + Have been beholding to him in his life; + Yet none of you would once beg for his life. + O God, I fear thy justice will take hold + On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this! + Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. Ah, poor Clarence! + Exeunt some with KING and QUEEN + GLOUCESTER. This is the fruits of rashness. Mark'd you not + How that the guilty kindred of the Queen + Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death? + O, they did urge it still unto the King! + God will revenge it. Come, lords, will you go + To comfort Edward with our company? + BUCKINGHAM. We wait upon your Grace. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. + +London. The palace + +Enter the old DUCHESS OF YORK, with the SON and DAUGHTER of CLARENCE + + SON. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? + DUCHESS. No, boy. + DAUGHTER. Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast, + And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!'? + SON. Why do you look on us, and shake your head, + And call us orphans, wretches, castaways, + If that our noble father were alive? + DUCHESS. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both; + I do lament the sickness of the King, + As loath to lose him, not your father's death; + It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost. + SON. Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead. + The King mine uncle is to blame for it. + God will revenge it; whom I will importune + With earnest prayers all to that effect. + DAUGHTER. And so will I. + DUCHESS. Peace, children, peace! The King doth love you + well. + Incapable and shallow innocents, + You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death. + SON. Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester + Told me the King, provok'd to it by the Queen, + Devis'd impeachments to imprison him. + And when my uncle told me so, he wept, + And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; + Bade me rely on him as on my father, + And he would love me dearly as a child. + DUCHESS. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape, + And with a virtuous vizor hide deep vice! + He is my son; ay, and therein my shame; + Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. + SON. Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam? + DUCHESS. Ay, boy. + SON. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? + + Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, with her hair about her + ears; RIVERS and DORSET after her + + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and + weep, + To chide my fortune, and torment myself? + I'll join with black despair against my soul + And to myself become an enemy. + DUCHESS. What means this scene of rude impatience? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. To make an act of tragic violence. + EDWARD, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. + Why grow the branches when the root is gone? + Why wither not the leaves that want their sap? + If you will live, lament; if die, be brief, + That our swift-winged souls may catch the King's, + Or like obedient subjects follow him + To his new kingdom of ne'er-changing night. + DUCHESS. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow + As I had title in thy noble husband! + I have bewept a worthy husband's death, + And liv'd with looking on his images; + But now two mirrors of his princely semblance + Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death, + And I for comfort have but one false glass, + That grieves me when I see my shame in him. + Thou art a widow, yet thou art a mother + And hast the comfort of thy children left; + But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms + And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands- + Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I- + Thine being but a moiety of my moan- + To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries? + SON. Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death! + How can we aid you with our kindred tears? + DAUGHTER. Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd; + Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept! + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Give me no help in lamentation; + I am not barren to bring forth complaints. + All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes + That I, being govern'd by the watery moon, + May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! + Ah for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward! + CHILDREN. Ah for our father, for our dear Lord Clarence! + DUCHESS. Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! + QUEEN ELIZABETH. What stay had I but Edward? and he's + gone. + CHILDREN. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone. + DUCHESS. What stays had I but they? and they are gone. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Was never widow had so dear a loss. + CHILDREN. Were never orphans had so dear a loss. + DUCHESS. Was never mother had so dear a loss. + Alas, I am the mother of these griefs! + Their woes are parcell'd, mine is general. + She for an Edward weeps, and so do I: + I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she. + These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I: + I for an Edward weep, so do not they. + Alas, you three on me, threefold distress'd, + Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse, + And I will pamper it with lamentation. + DORSET. Comfort, dear mother. God is much displeas'd + That you take with unthankfulness his doing. + In common worldly things 'tis called ungrateful + With dull unwillingness to repay a debt + Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; + Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, + For it requires the royal debt it lent you. + RIVERS. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, + Of the young prince your son. Send straight for him; + Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives. + Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, + And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. + + Enter GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, DERBY, + HASTINGS, and RATCLIFF + + GLOUCESTER. Sister, have comfort. All of us have cause + To wail the dimming of our shining star; + But none can help our harms by wailing them. + Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy; + I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee + I crave your blessing. + DUCHESS. God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast, + Love, charity, obedience, and true duty! + GLOUCESTER. Amen! [Aside] And make me die a good old + man! + That is the butt end of a mother's blessing; + I marvel that her Grace did leave it out. + BUCKINGHAM. You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing + peers, + That bear this heavy mutual load of moan, + Now cheer each other in each other's love. + Though we have spent our harvest of this king, + We are to reap the harvest of his son. + The broken rancour of your high-swol'n hearts, + But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together, + Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept. + Me seemeth good that, with some little train, + Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fet + Hither to London, to be crown'd our King. + + RIVERS. Why with some little train, my Lord of + Buckingham? + BUCKINGHAM. Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude + The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out, + Which would be so much the more dangerous + By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern'd; + Where every horse bears his commanding rein + And may direct his course as please himself, + As well the fear of harm as harm apparent, + In my opinion, ought to be prevented. + GLOUCESTER. I hope the King made peace with all of us; + And the compact is firm and true in me. + RIVERS. And so in me; and so, I think, in an. + Yet, since it is but green, it should be put + To no apparent likelihood of breach, + Which haply by much company might be urg'd; + Therefore I say with noble Buckingham + That it is meet so few should fetch the Prince. + HASTINGS. And so say I. + GLOUCESTER. Then be it so; and go we to determine + Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. + Madam, and you, my sister, will you go + To give your censures in this business? + Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOUCESTER + BUCKINGHAM. My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince, + For God sake, let not us two stay at home; + For by the way I'll sort occasion, + As index to the story we late talk'd of, + To part the Queen's proud kindred from the Prince. + GLOUCESTER. My other self, my counsel's consistory, + My oracle, my prophet, my dear cousin, + I, as a child, will go by thy direction. + Toward Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +London. A street + +Enter one CITIZEN at one door, and another at the other + + FIRST CITIZEN. Good morrow, neighbour. Whither away so + fast? + SECOND CITIZEN. I promise you, I scarcely know myself. + Hear you the news abroad? + FIRST CITIZEN. Yes, that the King is dead. + SECOND CITIZEN. Ill news, by'r lady; seldom comes the + better. + I fear, I fear 'twill prove a giddy world. + + Enter another CITIZEN + + THIRD CITIZEN. Neighbours, God speed! + FIRST CITIZEN. Give you good morrow, sir. + THIRD CITIZEN. Doth the news hold of good King Edward's + death? + SECOND CITIZEN. Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while! + THIRD CITIZEN. Then, masters, look to see a troublous + world. + FIRST CITIZEN. No, no; by God's good grace, his son shall + reign. + THIRD CITIZEN. Woe to that land that's govern'd by a child. + SECOND CITIZEN. In him there is a hope of government, + Which, in his nonage, council under him, + And, in his full and ripened years, himself, + No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well. + FIRST CITIZEN. So stood the state when Henry the Sixth + Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. + THIRD CITIZEN. Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, + God wot; + For then this land was famously enrich'd + With politic grave counsel; then the King + Had virtuous uncles to protect his Grace. + FIRST CITIZEN. Why, so hath this, both by his father and + mother. + THIRD CITIZEN. Better it were they all came by his father, + Or by his father there were none at all; + For emulation who shall now be nearest + Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. + O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester! + And the Queen's sons and brothers haught and proud; + And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule, + This sickly land might solace as before. + FIRST CITIZEN. Come, come, we fear the worst; all will be + well. + THIRD CITIZEN. When clouds are seen, wise men put on + their cloaks; + When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; + When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? + Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. + All may be well; but, if God sort it so, + 'Tis more than we deserve or I expect. + SECOND CITIZEN. Truly, the hearts of men are fun of fear. + You cannot reason almost with a man + That looks not heavily and fun of dread. + THIRD CITIZEN. Before the days of change, still is it so; + By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust + Ensuing danger; as by proof we see + The water swell before a boist'rous storm. + But leave it all to God. Whither away? + SECOND CITIZEN. Marry, we were sent for to the justices. + THIRD CITIZEN. And so was I; I'll bear you company. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +London. The palace + +Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the young DUKE OF YORK, QUEEN ELIZABETH, +and the DUCHESS OF YORK + + ARCHBISHOP. Last night, I hear, they lay at Stony Stratford, + And at Northampton they do rest to-night; + To-morrow or next day they will be here. + DUCHESS. I long with all my heart to see the Prince. + I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. But I hear no; they say my son of York + Has almost overta'en him in his growth. + YORK. Ay, mother; but I would not have it so. + DUCHESS. Why, my good cousin, it is good to grow. + YORK. Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper, + My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow + More than my brother. 'Ay,' quoth my uncle Gloucester + 'Small herbs have grace: great weeds do grow apace.' + And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, + Because sweet flow'rs are slow and weeds make haste. + DUCHESS. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold + In him that did object the same to thee. + He was the wretched'st thing when he was young, + So long a-growing and so leisurely + That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious. + ARCHBISHOP. And so no doubt he is, my gracious madam. + DUCHESS. I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt. + YORK. Now, by my troth, if I had been rememb'red, + I could have given my uncle's Grace a flout + To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine. + DUCHESS. How, my young York? I prithee let me hear it. + YORK. Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast + That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old. + 'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. + Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. + DUCHESS. I prithee, pretty York, who told thee this? + YORK. Grandam, his nurse. + DUCHESS. His nurse! Why she was dead ere thou wast + born. + YORK. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. A parlous boy! Go to, you are too + shrewd. + ARCHBISHOP. Good madam, be not angry with the child. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Pitchers have ears. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + ARCHBISHOP. Here comes a messenger. What news? + MESSENGER. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. How doth the Prince? + MESSENGER. Well, madam, and in health. + DUCHESS. What is thy news? + MESSENGER. Lord Rivers and Lord Grey + Are sent to Pomfret, and with them + Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. + DUCHESS. Who hath committed them? + MESSENGER. The mighty Dukes, Gloucester and Buckingham. + ARCHBISHOP. For what offence? + MESSENGER. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd. + Why or for what the nobles were committed + Is all unknown to me, my gracious lord. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ay me, I see the ruin of my house! + The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind; + Insulting tyranny begins to jet + Upon the innocent and aweless throne. + Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre! + I see, as in a map, the end of all. + DUCHESS. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, + How many of you have mine eyes beheld! + My husband lost his life to get the crown; + And often up and down my sons were toss'd + For me to joy and weep their gain and loss; + And being seated, and domestic broils + Clean over-blown, themselves the conquerors + Make war upon themselves-brother to brother, + Blood to blood, self against self. O, preposterous + And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen, + Or let me die, to look on death no more! + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Come, come, my boy; we will to + sanctuary. + Madam, farewell. + DUCHESS. Stay, I will go with you. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. You have no cause. + ARCHBISHOP. [To the QUEEN] My gracious lady, go. + And thither bear your treasure and your goods. + For my part, I'll resign unto your Grace + The seal I keep; and so betide to me + As well I tender you and all of yours! + Go, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE 1. + +London. A street + +The trumpets sound. Enter the PRINCE OF WALES, GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, +CATESBY, CARDINAL BOURCHIER, and others + + BUCKINGHAM. Welcome, sweet Prince, to London, to your + chamber. + GLOUCESTER. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign. + The weary way hath made you melancholy. + PRINCE. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way + Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy. + I want more uncles here to welcome me. + GLOUCESTER. Sweet Prince, the untainted virtue of your + years + Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit; + Nor more can you distinguish of a man + Than of his outward show; which, God He knows, + Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. + Those uncles which you want were dangerous; + Your Grace attended to their sug'red words + But look'd not on the poison of their hearts. + God keep you from them and from such false friends! + PRINCE. God keep me from false friends! but they were + none. + GLOUCESTER. My lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet + you. + + Enter the LORD MAYOR and his train + + MAYOR. God bless your Grace with health and happy days! + PRINCE. I thank you, good my lord, and thank you all. + I thought my mother and my brother York + Would long ere this have met us on the way. + Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not + To tell us whether they will come or no! + + Enter LORD HASTINGS + + BUCKINGHAM. And, in good time, here comes the sweating + Lord. + PRINCE. Welcome, my lord. What, will our mother come? + HASTINGS. On what occasion, God He knows, not I, + The Queen your mother and your brother York + Have taken sanctuary. The tender Prince + Would fain have come with me to meet your Grace, + But by his mother was perforce withheld. + BUCKINGHAM. Fie, what an indirect and peevish course + Is this of hers? Lord Cardinal, will your Grace + Persuade the Queen to send the Duke of York + Unto his princely brother presently? + If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him + And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. + CARDINAL. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory + Can from his mother win the Duke of York, + Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate + To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid + We should infringe the holy privilege + Of blessed sanctuary! Not for all this land + Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. + BUCKINGHAM. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord, + Too ceremonious and traditional. + Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, + You break not sanctuary in seizing him. + The benefit thereof is always granted + To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place + And those who have the wit to claim the place. + This Prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserv'd it, + And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it. + Then, taking him from thence that is not there, + You break no privilege nor charter there. + Oft have I heard of sanctuary men; + But sanctuary children never till now. + CARDINAL. My lord, you shall o'errule my mind for once. + Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me? + HASTINGS. I go, my lord. + PRINCE. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. + Exeunt CARDINAL and HASTINGS + Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, + Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? + GLOUCESTER. Where it seems best unto your royal self. + If I may counsel you, some day or two + Your Highness shall repose you at the Tower, + Then where you please and shall be thought most fit + For your best health and recreation. + PRINCE. I do not like the Tower, of any place. + Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? + BUCKINGHAM. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place, + Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. + PRINCE. Is it upon record, or else reported + Successively from age to age, he built it? + BUCKINGHAM. Upon record, my gracious lord. + PRINCE. But say, my lord, it were not regist'red, + Methinks the truth should Eve from age to age, + As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, + Even to the general all-ending day. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside] So wise so young, they say, do never + live long. + PRINCE. What say you, uncle? + GLOUCESTER. I say, without characters, fame lives long. + [Aside] Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity, + I moralize two meanings in one word. + PRINCE. That Julius Caesar was a famous man; + With what his valour did enrich his wit, + His wit set down to make his valour live. + Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; + For now he lives in fame, though not in life. + I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham- + BUCKINGHAM. What, my gracious lord? + PRINCE. An if I live until I be a man, + I'll win our ancient right in France again, + Or die a soldier as I liv'd a king. + GLOUCESTER. [Aside] Short summers lightly have a forward + spring. + + Enter HASTINGS, young YORK, and the CARDINAL + + BUCKINGHAM. Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of + York. + PRINCE. Richard of York, how fares our loving brother? + YORK. Well, my dread lord; so must I can you now. + PRINCE. Ay brother, to our grief, as it is yours. + Too late he died that might have kept that title, + Which by his death hath lost much majesty. + GLOUCESTER. How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York? + YORK. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, + You said that idle weeds are fast in growth. + The Prince my brother hath outgrown me far. + GLOUCESTER. He hath, my lord. + YORK. And therefore is he idle? + GLOUCESTER. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. + YORK. Then he is more beholding to you than I. + GLOUCESTER. He may command me as my sovereign; + But you have power in me as in a kinsman. + YORK. I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. + GLOUCESTER. My dagger, little cousin? With all my heart! + PRINCE. A beggar, brother? + YORK. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give, + And being but a toy, which is no grief to give. + GLOUCESTER. A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. + YORK. A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it! + GLOUCESTER. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. + YORK. O, then, I see you will part but with light gifts: + In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay. + GLOUCESTER. It is too heavy for your Grace to wear. + YORK. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. + GLOUCESTER. What, would you have my weapon, little + Lord? + YORK. I would, that I might thank you as you call me. + GLOUCESTER. How? + YORK. Little. + PRINCE. My Lord of York will still be cross in talk. + Uncle, your Grace knows how to bear with him. + YORK. You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me. + Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me; + Because that I am little, like an ape, + He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders. + BUCKINGHAM. With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! + To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle + He prettily and aptly taunts himself. + So cunning and so young is wonderful. + GLOUCESTER. My lord, will't please you pass along? + Myself and my good cousin Buckingham + Will to your mother, to entreat of her + To meet you at the Tower and welcome you. + YORK. What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord? + PRINCE. My Lord Protector needs will have it so. + YORK. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. + GLOUCESTER. Why, what should you fear? + YORK. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost. + My grandam told me he was murder'd there. + PRINCE. I fear no uncles dead. + GLOUCESTER. Nor none that live, I hope. + PRINCE. An if they live, I hope I need not fear. + But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart, + Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. + A sennet. + Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, and CATESBY + BUCKINGHAM. Think you, my lord, this little prating York + Was not incensed by his subtle mother + To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? + GLOUCESTER. No doubt, no doubt. O, 'tis a perilous boy; + Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable. + He is all the mother's, from the top to toe. + BUCKINGHAM. Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby. + Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend + As closely to conceal what we impart. + Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way. + What think'st thou? Is it not an easy matter + To make William Lord Hastings of our mind, + For the instalment of this noble Duke + In the seat royal of this famous isle? + CATESBY. He for his father's sake so loves the Prince + That he will not be won to aught against him. + BUCKINGHAM. What think'st thou then of Stanley? Will + not he? + CATESBY. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. + BUCKINGHAM. Well then, no more but this: go, gentle + Catesby, + And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings + How he doth stand affected to our purpose; + And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, + To sit about the coronation. + If thou dost find him tractable to us, + Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons; + If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling, + Be thou so too, and so break off the talk, + And give us notice of his inclination; + For we to-morrow hold divided councils, + Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd. + GLOUCESTER. Commend me to Lord William. Tell him, + Catesby, + His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries + To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle; + And bid my lord, for joy of this good news, + Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. + BUCKINGHAM. Good Catesby, go effect this business soundly. + CATESBY. My good lords both, with all the heed I can. + GLOUCESTER. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep? + CATESBY. You shall, my lord. + GLOUCESTER. At Crosby House, there shall you find us both. + Exit CATESBY + BUCKINGHAM. Now, my lord, what shall we do if we + perceive + Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? + GLOUCESTER. Chop off his head-something we will + determine. + And, look when I am King, claim thou of me + The earldom of Hereford and all the movables + Whereof the King my brother was possess'd. + BUCKINGHAM. I'll claim that promise at your Grace's hand. + GLOUCESTER. And look to have it yielded with all kindness. + Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards + We may digest our complots in some form. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. + +Before LORD HASTING'S house + +Enter a MESSENGER to the door of HASTINGS + + MESSENGER. My lord, my lord! [Knocking] + HASTINGS. [Within] Who knocks? + MESSENGER. One from the Lord Stanley. + HASTINGS. [Within] What is't o'clock? + MESSENGER. Upon the stroke of four. + + Enter LORD HASTINGS + + HASTINGS. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these tedious + nights? + MESSENGER. So it appears by that I have to say. + First, he commends him to your noble self. + HASTINGS. What then? + MESSENGER. Then certifies your lordship that this night + He dreamt the boar had razed off his helm. + Besides, he says there are two councils kept, + And that may be determin'd at the one + Which may make you and him to rue at th' other. + Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure- + If you will presently take horse with him + And with all speed post with him toward the north + To shun the danger that his soul divines. + HASTINGS. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord; + Bid him not fear the separated council: + His honour and myself are at the one, + And at the other is my good friend Catesby; + Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us + Whereof I shall not have intelligence. + Tell him his fears are shallow, without instance; + And for his dreams, I wonder he's so simple + To trust the mock'ry of unquiet slumbers. + To fly the boar before the boar pursues + Were to incense the boar to follow us + And make pursuit where he did mean no chase. + Go, bid thy master rise and come to me; + And we will both together to the Tower, + Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly. + MESSENGER. I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you say. + Exit + + Enter CATESBY + + CATESBY. Many good morrows to my noble lord! + HASTINGS. Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring. + What news, what news, in this our tott'ring state? + CATESBY. It is a reeling world indeed, my lord; + And I believe will never stand upright + Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. + HASTINGS. How, wear the garland! Dost thou mean the + crown? + CATESBY. Ay, my good lord. + HASTINGS. I'll have this crown of mine cut from my + shoulders + Before I'll see the crown so foul misplac'd. + But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? + CATESBY. Ay, on my life; and hopes to find you forward + Upon his party for the gain thereof; + And thereupon he sends you this good news, + That this same very day your enemies, + The kindred of the Queen, must die at Pomfret. + HASTINGS. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, + Because they have been still my adversaries; + But that I'll give my voice on Richard's side + To bar my master's heirs in true descent, + God knows I will not do it to the death. + CATESBY. God keep your lordship in that gracious mind! + HASTINGS. But I shall laugh at this a twelve month hence, + That they which brought me in my master's hate, + I live to look upon their tragedy. + Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older, + I'll send some packing that yet think not on't. + CATESBY. 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, + When men are unprepar'd and look not for it. + HASTINGS. O monstrous, monstrous! And so falls it out + With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey; and so 'twill do + With some men else that think themselves as safe + As thou and I, who, as thou knowest, are dear + To princely Richard and to Buckingham. + CATESBY. The Princes both make high account of you- + [Aside] For they account his head upon the bridge. + HASTINGS. I know they do, and I have well deserv'd it. + + Enter LORD STANLEY + + Come on, come on; where is your boar-spear, man? + Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided? + STANLEY. My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby. + You may jest on, but, by the holy rood, + I do not like these several councils, I. + HASTINGS. My lord, I hold my life as dear as yours, + And never in my days, I do protest, + Was it so precious to me as 'tis now. + Think you, but that I know our state secure, + I would be so triumphant as I am? + STANLEY. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from + London, + Were jocund and suppos'd their states were sure, + And they indeed had no cause to mistrust; + But yet you see how soon the day o'ercast. + This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt; + Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward. + What, shall we toward the Tower? The day is spent. + HASTINGS. Come, come, have with you. Wot you what, my + Lord? + To-day the lords you talk'd of are beheaded. + STANLEY. They, for their truth, might better wear their + heads + Than some that have accus'd them wear their hats. + But come, my lord, let's away. + + Enter HASTINGS, a pursuivant + + HASTINGS. Go on before; I'll talk with this good fellow. + Exeunt STANLEY and CATESBY + How now, Hastings! How goes the world with thee? + PURSUIVANT. The better that your lordship please to ask. + HASTINGS. I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now + Than when thou met'st me last where now we meet: + Then was I going prisoner to the Tower + By the suggestion of the Queen's allies; + But now, I tell thee-keep it to thyself- + This day those enernies are put to death, + And I in better state than e'er I was. + PURSUIVANT. God hold it, to your honour's good content! + HASTINGS. Gramercy, Hastings; there, drink that for me. + [Throws him his purse] + PURSUIVANT. I thank your honour. Exit + + Enter a PRIEST + + PRIEST. Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour. + HASTINGS. I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart. + I am in your debt for your last exercise; + Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. + [He whispers in his ear] + PRIEST. I'll wait upon your lordship. + + Enter BUCKINGHAM + + BUCKINGHAM. What, talking with a priest, Lord + Chamberlain! + Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest: + Your honour hath no shriving work in hand. + HASTINGS. Good faith, and when I met this holy man, + The men you talk of came into my mind. + What, go you toward the Tower? + BUCKINGHAM. I do, my lord, but long I cannot stay there; + I shall return before your lordship thence. + HASTINGS. Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there. + BUCKINGHAM. [Aside] And supper too, although thou + knowest it not.- + Come, will you go? + HASTINGS. I'll wait upon your lordship. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +Pomfret Castle + +Enter SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF, with halberds, carrying the Nobles, +RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN, to death + + RIVERS. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this: + To-day shalt thou behold a subject die + For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. + GREY. God bless the Prince from all the pack of you! + A knot you are of damned blood-suckers. + VAUGHAN. You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter. + RATCLIFF. Dispatch; the limit of your lives is out. + RIVERS. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, + Fatal and ominous to noble peers! + Within the guilty closure of thy walls + RICHARD the Second here was hack'd to death; + And for more slander to thy dismal seat, + We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink. + GREY. Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads, + When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, + For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son. + RIVERS. Then curs'd she Richard, then curs'd she + Buckingham, + Then curs'd she Hastings. O, remember, God, + To hear her prayer for them, as now for us! + And for my sister, and her princely sons, + Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, + Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt. + RATCLIFF. Make haste; the hour of death is expiate. + RIVERS. Come, Grey; come, Vaughan; let us here embrace. + Farewell, until we meet again in heaven. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4 + +London. The Tower + +Enter BUCKINGHAM, DERBY, HASTINGS, the BISHOP of ELY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, +with others and seat themselves at a table + + HASTINGS. Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met + Is to determine of the coronation. + In God's name speak-when is the royal day? + BUCKINGHAM. Is all things ready for the royal time? + DERBY. It is, and wants but nomination. + BISHOP OF ELY. To-morrow then I judge a happy day. + BUCKINGHAM. Who knows the Lord Protector's mind + herein? + Who is most inward with the noble Duke? + BISHOP OF ELY. Your Grace, we think, should soonest know + his mind. + BUCKINGHAM. We know each other's faces; for our hearts, + He knows no more of mine than I of yours; + Or I of his, my lord, than you of mine. + Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. + HASTINGS. I thank his Grace, I know he loves me well; + But for his purpose in the coronation + I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd + His gracious pleasure any way therein. + But you, my honourable lords, may name the time; + And in the Duke's behalf I'll give my voice, + Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. + + Enter GLOUCESTER + + BISHOP OF ELY. In happy time, here comes the Duke himself. + GLOUCESTER. My noble lords and cousins an, good morrow. + I have been long a sleeper, but I trust + My absence doth neglect no great design + Which by my presence might have been concluded. + BUCKINGHAM. Had you not come upon your cue, my lord, + WILLIAM Lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part- + I mean, your voice for crowning of the King. + GLOUCESTER. Than my Lord Hastings no man might be + bolder; + His lordship knows me well and loves me well. + My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn + I saw good strawberries in your garden there. + I do beseech you send for some of them. + BISHOP of ELY. Marry and will, my lord, with all my heart. + Exit + GLOUCESTER. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. + [Takes him aside] + Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business, + And finds the testy gentleman so hot + That he will lose his head ere give consent + His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it, + Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. + BUCKINGHAM. Withdraw yourself awhile; I'll go with you. + Exeunt GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM + DERBY. We have not yet set down this day of triumph. + To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden; + For I myself am not so well provided + As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. + + Re-enter the BISHOP OF ELY + + BISHOP OF ELY. Where is my lord the Duke of Gloucester? + I have sent for these strawberries. + HASTINGS. His Grace looks cheerfully and smooth this + morning; + There's some conceit or other likes him well + When that he bids good morrow with such spirit. + I think there's never a man in Christendom + Can lesser hide his love or hate than he; + For by his face straight shall you know his heart. + DERBY. What of his heart perceive you in his face + By any livelihood he show'd to-day? + HASTINGS. Marry, that with no man here he is offended; + For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. + + Re-enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM + + GLOUCESTER. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve + That do conspire my death with devilish plots + Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd + Upon my body with their hellish charms? + HASTINGS. The tender love I bear your Grace, my lord, + Makes me most forward in this princely presence + To doom th' offenders, whosoe'er they be. + I say, my lord, they have deserved death. + GLOUCESTER. Then be your eyes the witness of their evil. + Look how I am bewitch'd; behold, mine arm + Is like a blasted sapling wither'd up. + And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, + Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore, + That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. + HASTINGS. If they have done this deed, my noble lord- + GLOUCESTER. If?-thou protector of this damned strumpet, + Talk'st thou to me of ifs? Thou art a traitor. + Off with his head! Now by Saint Paul I swear + I will not dine until I see the same. + Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done. + The rest that love me, rise and follow me. + Exeunt all but HASTINGS, LOVEL, and RATCLIFF + HASTINGS. Woe, woe, for England! not a whit for me; + For I, too fond, might have prevented this. + STANLEY did dream the boar did raze our helms, + And I did scorn it and disdain to fly. + Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble, + And started when he look'd upon the Tower, + As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house. + O, now I need the priest that spake to me! + I now repent I told the pursuivant, + As too triumphing, how mine enemies + To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, + And I myself secure in grace and favour. + O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse + Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head! + RATCLIFF. Come, come, dispatch; the Duke would be at + dinner. + Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head. + HASTINGS. O momentary grace of mortal men, + Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! + Who builds his hope in air of your good looks + Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, + Ready with every nod to tumble down + Into the fatal bowels of the deep. + LOVEL. Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim. + HASTINGS. O bloody Richard! Miserable England! + I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee + That ever wretched age hath look'd upon. + Come, lead me to the block; bear him my head. + They smile at me who shortly shall be dead. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 5. + +London. The Tower-walls + +Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM in rotten armour, marvellous ill-favoured + + GLOUCESTER. Come, cousin, canst thou quake and change + thy colour, + Murder thy breath in middle of a word, + And then again begin, and stop again, + As if thou were distraught and mad with terror? + BUCKINGHAM. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian; + Speak and look back, and pry on every side, + Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, + Intending deep suspicion. Ghastly looks + Are at my service, like enforced smiles; + And both are ready in their offices + At any time to grace my stratagems. + But what, is Catesby gone? + GLOUCESTER. He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along. + + Enter the LORD MAYOR and CATESBY + + BUCKINGHAM. Lord Mayor- + GLOUCESTER. Look to the drawbridge there! + BUCKINGHAM. Hark! a drum. + GLOUCESTER. Catesby, o'erlook the walls. + BUCKINGHAM. Lord Mayor, the reason we have sent- + GLOUCESTER. Look back, defend thee; here are enemies. + BUCKINGHAM. God and our innocence defend and guard us! + + Enter LOVEL and RATCLIFF, with HASTINGS' head + + GLOUCESTER. Be patient; they are friends-Ratcliff and Lovel. + LOVEL. Here is the head of that ignoble traitor, + The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. + GLOUCESTER. So dear I lov'd the man that I must weep. + I took him for the plainest harmless creature + That breath'd upon the earth a Christian; + Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded + The history of all her secret thoughts. + So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue + That, his apparent open guilt omitted, + I mean his conversation with Shore's wife- + He liv'd from all attainder of suspects. + BUCKINGHAM. Well, well, he was the covert'st shelt'red + traitor + That ever liv'd. + Would you imagine, or almost believe- + Were't not that by great preservation + We live to tell it-that the subtle traitor + This day had plotted, in the council-house, + To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester. + MAYOR. Had he done so? + GLOUCESTER. What! think you we are Turks or Infidels? + Or that we would, against the form of law, + Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death + But that the extreme peril of the case, + The peace of England and our persons' safety, + Enforc'd us to this execution? + MAYOR. Now, fair befall you! He deserv'd his death; + And your good Graces both have well proceeded + To warn false traitors from the like attempts. + I never look'd for better at his hands + After he once fell in with Mistress Shore. + BUCKINGHAM. Yet had we not determin'd he should die + Until your lordship came to see his end- + Which now the loving haste of these our friends, + Something against our meanings, have prevented- + Because, my lord, I would have had you heard + The traitor speak, and timorously confess + The manner and the purpose of his treasons: + That you might well have signified the same + Unto the citizens, who haply may + Misconster us in him and wail his death. + MAYOR. But, my good lord, your Grace's words shall serve + As well as I had seen and heard him speak; + And do not doubt, right noble Princes both, + But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens + With all your just proceedings in this cause. + GLOUCESTER. And to that end we wish'd your lordship here, + T' avoid the the the censures of the carping world. + BUCKINGHAM. Which since you come too late of our intent, + Yet witness what you hear we did intend. + And so, my good Lord Mayor, we bid farewell. + Exit LORD MAYOR + GLOUCESTER. Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham. + The Mayor towards Guildhall hies him in an post. + There, at your meet'st advantage of the time, + Infer the bastardy of Edward's children. + Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen + Only for saying he would make his son + Heir to the crown-meaning indeed his house, + Which by the sign thereof was termed so. + Moreover, urge his hateful luxury + And bestial appetite in change of lust, + Which stretch'd unto their servants, daughters, wives, + Even where his raging eye or savage heart + Without control lusted to make a prey. + Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person: + Tell them, when that my mother went with child + Of that insatiate Edward, noble York + My princely father then had wars in France + And, by true computation of the time, + Found that the issue was not his begot; + Which well appeared in his lineaments, + Being nothing like the noble Duke my father. + Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off; + Because, my lord, you know my mother lives. + BUCKINGHAM. Doubt not, my lord, I'll play the orator + As if the golden fee for which I plead + Were for myself; and so, my lord, adieu. + GLOUCESTER. If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's + Castle; + Where you shall find me well accompanied + With reverend fathers and well learned bishops. + BUCKINGHAM. I go; and towards three or four o'clock + Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. Exit + GLOUCESTER. Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw. + [To CATESBY] Go thou to Friar Penker. Bid them both + Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle. + Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER + Now will I go to take some privy order + To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight, + And to give order that no manner person + Have any time recourse unto the Princes. Exit + + + + +SCENE 6. + +London. A street + +Enter a SCRIVENER + + SCRIVENER. Here is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings; + Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd + That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's. + And mark how well the sequel hangs together: + Eleven hours I have spent to write it over, + For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me; + The precedent was full as long a-doing; + And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd, + Untainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty. + Here's a good world the while! Who is so gros + That cannot see this palpable device? + Yet who's so bold but says he sees it not? + Bad is the world; and all will come to nought, + When such ill dealing must be seen in thought. Exit + + + + +SCENE 7. + +London. Baynard's Castle + +Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, at several doors + + GLOUCESTER. How now, how now! What say the citizens? + BUCKINGHAM. Now, by the holy Mother of our Lord, + The citizens are mum, say not a word. + GLOUCESTER. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's + children? + BUCKINGHAM. I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, + And his contract by deputy in France; + Th' insatiate greediness of his desire, + And his enforcement of the city wives; + His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, + As being got, your father then in France, + And his resemblance, being not like the Duke. + Withal I did infer your lineaments, + Being the right idea of your father, + Both in your form and nobleness of mind; + Laid open all your victories in Scotland, + Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, + Your bounty, virtue, fair humility; + Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose + Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse. + And when mine oratory drew toward end + I bid them that did love their country's good + Cry 'God save Richard, England's royal King!' + GLOUCESTER. And did they so? + BUCKINGHAM. No, so God help me, they spake not a word; + But, like dumb statues or breathing stones, + Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale. + Which when I saw, I reprehended them, + And ask'd the Mayor what meant this wilfull silence. + His answer was, the people were not used + To be spoke to but by the Recorder. + Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again. + 'Thus saith the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr'd'- + But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. + When he had done, some followers of mine own + At lower end of the hall hurl'd up their caps, + And some ten voices cried 'God save King Richard!' + And thus I took the vantage of those few- + 'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I + 'This general applause and cheerful shout + Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard.' + And even here brake off and came away. + GLOUCESTER. What, tongueless blocks were they? Would + they not speak? + Will not the Mayor then and his brethren come? + BUCKINGHAM. The Mayor is here at hand. Intend some fear; + Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit; + And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, + And stand between two churchmen, good my lord; + For on that ground I'll make a holy descant; + And be not easily won to our requests. + Play the maid's part: still answer nay, and take it. + GLOUCESTER. I go; and if you plead as well for them + As I can say nay to thee for myself, + No doubt we bring it to a happy issue. + BUCKINGHAM. Go, go, up to the leads; the Lord Mayor + knocks. Exit GLOUCESTER + + Enter the LORD MAYOR, ALDERMEN, and citizens + + Welcome, my lord. I dance attendance here; + I think the Duke will not be spoke withal. + + Enter CATESBY + + Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request? + CATESBY. He doth entreat your Grace, my noble lord, + To visit him to-morrow or next day. + He is within, with two right reverend fathers, + Divinely bent to meditation; + And in no worldly suits would he be mov'd, + To draw him from his holy exercise. + BUCKINGHAM. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke; + Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Aldermen, + In deep designs, in matter of great moment, + No less importing than our general good, + Are come to have some conference with his Grace. + CATESBY. I'll signify so much unto him straight. Exit + BUCKINGHAM. Ah ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward! + He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed, + But on his knees at meditation; + Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, + But meditating with two deep divines; + Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, + But praying, to enrich his watchful soul. + Happy were England would this virtuous prince + Take on his Grace the sovereignty thereof; + But, sure, I fear we shall not win him to it. + MAYOR. Marry, God defend his Grace should say us nay! + BUCKINGHAM. I fear he will. Here Catesby comes again. + + Re-enter CATESBY + + Now, Catesby, what says his Grace? + CATESBY. My lord, + He wonders to what end you have assembled + Such troops of citizens to come to him. + His Grace not being warn'd thereof before, + He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him. + BUCKINGHAM. Sorry I am my noble cousin should + Suspect me that I mean no good to him. + By heaven, we come to him in perfect love; + And so once more return and tell his Grace. + Exit CATESBY + When holy and devout religious men + Are at their beads, 'tis much to draw them thence, + So sweet is zealous contemplation. + + Enter GLOUCESTER aloft, between two BISHOPS. + CATESBY returns + + MAYOR. See where his Grace stands 'tween two clergymen! + BUCKINGHAM. Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, + To stay him from the fall of vanity; + And, see, a book of prayer in his hand, + True ornaments to know a holy man. + Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince, + Lend favourable ear to our requests, + And pardon us the interruption + Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal. + GLOUCESTER. My lord, there needs no such apology: + I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, + Who, earnest in the service of my God, + Deferr'd the visitation of my friends. + But, leaving this, what is your Grace's pleasure? + BUCKINGHAM. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above, + And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. + GLOUCESTER. I do suspect I have done some offence + That seems disgracious in the city's eye, + And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. + BUCKINGHAM. You have, my lord. Would it might please + your Grace, + On our entreaties, to amend your fault! + GLOUCESTER. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land? + BUCKINGHAM. Know then, it is your fault that you resign + The supreme seat, the throne majestical, + The scept'red office of your ancestors, + Your state of fortune and your due of birth, + The lineal glory of your royal house, + To the corruption of a blemish'd stock; + Whiles in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, + Which here we waken to our country's good, + The noble isle doth want her proper limbs; + Her face defac'd with scars of infamy, + Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, + And almost should'red in the swallowing gulf + Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion. + Which to recure, we heartily solicit + Your gracious self to take on you the charge + And kingly government of this your land- + Not as protector, steward, substitute, + Or lowly factor for another's gain; + But as successively, from blood to blood, + Your right of birth, your empery, your own. + For this, consorted with the citizens, + Your very worshipful and loving friends, + And by their vehement instigation, + In this just cause come I to move your Grace. + GLOUCESTER. I cannot tell if to depart in silence + Or bitterly to speak in your reproof + Best fitteth my degree or your condition. + If not to answer, you might haply think + Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded + To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, + Which fondly you would here impose on me; + If to reprove you for this suit of yours, + So season'd with your faithful love to me, + Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends. + Therefore-to speak, and to avoid the first, + And then, in speaking, not to incur the last- + Definitively thus I answer you: + Your love deserves my thanks, but my desert + Unmeritable shuns your high request. + First, if all obstacles were cut away, + And that my path were even to the crown, + As the ripe revenue and due of birth, + Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, + So mighty and so many my defects, + That I would rather hide me from my greatness- + Being a bark to brook no mighty sea- + Than in my greatness covet to be hid, + And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. + But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me- + And much I need to help you, were there need. + The royal tree hath left us royal fruit + Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, + Will well become the seat of majesty + And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. + On him I lay that you would lay on me- + The right and fortune of his happy stars, + Which God defend that I should wring from him. + BUCKINGHAM. My lord, this argues conscience in your + Grace; + But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, + All circumstances well considered. + You say that Edward is your brother's son. + So say we too, but not by Edward's wife; + For first was he contract to Lady Lucy- + Your mother lives a witness to his vow- + And afterward by substitute betroth'd + To Bona, sister to the King of France. + These both put off, a poor petitioner, + A care-craz'd mother to a many sons, + A beauty-waning and distressed widow, + Even in the afternoon of her best days, + Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, + Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree + To base declension and loath'd bigamy. + By her, in his unlawful bed, he got + This Edward, whom our manners call the Prince. + More bitterly could I expostulate, + Save that, for reverence to some alive, + I give a sparing limit to my tongue. + Then, good my lord, take to your royal self + This proffer'd benefit of dignity; + If not to bless us and the land withal, + Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry + From the corruption of abusing times + Unto a lineal true-derived course. + MAYOR. Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you. + BUCKINGHAM. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. + CATESBY. O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit! + GLOUCESTER. Alas, why would you heap this care on me? + I am unfit for state and majesty. + I do beseech you, take it not amiss: + I cannot nor I will not yield to you. + BUCKINGHAM. If you refuse it-as, in love and zeal, + Loath to depose the child, your brother's son; + As well we know your tenderness of heart + And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, + Which we have noted in you to your kindred + And egally indeed to all estates- + Yet know, whe'er you accept our suit or no, + Your brother's son shall never reign our king; + But we will plant some other in the throne + To the disgrace and downfall of your house; + And in this resolution here we leave you. + Come, citizens. Zounds, I'll entreat no more. + GLOUCESTER. O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham. + Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, MAYOR, and citizens + CATESBY. Call him again, sweet Prince, accept their suit. + If you deny them, all the land will rue it. + GLOUCESTER. Will you enforce me to a world of cares? + Call them again. I am not made of stones, + But penetrable to your kind entreaties, + Albeit against my conscience and my soul. + + Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the rest + + Cousin of Buckingham, and sage grave men, + Since you will buckle fortune on my back, + To bear her burden, whe'er I will or no, + I must have patience to endure the load; + But if black scandal or foul-fac'd reproach + Attend the sequel of your imposition, + Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me + From all the impure blots and stains thereof; + For God doth know, and you may partly see, + How far I am from the desire of this. + MAYOR. God bless your Grace! We see it, and will say it. + GLOUCESTER. In saying so, you shall but say the truth. + BUCKINGHAM. Then I salute you with this royal title- + Long live King Richard, England's worthy King! + ALL. Amen. + BUCKINGHAM. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd? + GLOUCESTER. Even when you please, for you will have it so. + BUCKINGHAM. To-morrow, then, we will attend your Grace; + And so, most joyfully, we take our leave. + GLOUCESTER. [To the BISHOPS] Come, let us to our holy + work again. + Farewell, my cousin; farewell, gentle friends. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 1. + +London. Before the Tower + +Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS of YORK, and MARQUIS of DORSET, at one door; +ANNE, DUCHESS of GLOUCESTER, leading LADY MARGARET PLANTAGENET, +CLARENCE's young daughter, at another door + + DUCHESS. Who meets us here? My niece Plantagenet, + Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester? + Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower, + On pure heart's love, to greet the tender Princes. + Daughter, well met. + ANNE. God give your Graces both + A happy and a joyful time of day! + QUEEN ELIZABETH. As much to you, good sister! Whither + away? + ANNE. No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess, + Upon the like devotion as yourselves, + To gratulate the gentle Princes there. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter + all together. + + Enter BRAKENBURY + + And in good time, here the lieutenant comes. + Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, + How doth the Prince, and my young son of York? + BRAKENBURY. Right well, dear madam. By your patience, + I may not suffer you to visit them. + The King hath strictly charg'd the contrary. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. The King! Who's that? + BRAKENBURY. I mean the Lord Protector. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. The Lord protect him from that kingly + title! + Hath he set bounds between their love and me? + I am their mother; who shall bar me from them? + DUCHESS. I am their father's mother; I will see them. + ANNE. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother. + Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame, + And take thy office from thee on my peril. + BRAKENBURY. No, madam, no. I may not leave it so; + I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. Exit + + Enter STANLEY + + STANLEY. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, + And I'll salute your Grace of York as mother + And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. + [To ANNE] Come, madam, you must straight to + Westminster, + There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah, cut my lace asunder + That my pent heart may have some scope to beat, + Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news! + ANNE. Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news! + DORSET. Be of good cheer; mother, how fares your Grace? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee + gone! + Death and destruction dogs thee at thy heels; + Thy mother's name is ominous to children. + If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, + And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell. + Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house, + Lest thou increase the number of the dead, + And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, + Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. + STANLEY. Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam. + Take all the swift advantage of the hours; + You shall have letters from me to my son + In your behalf, to meet you on the way. + Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. + DUCHESS. O ill-dispersing wind of misery! + O my accursed womb, the bed of death! + A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world, + Whose unavoided eye is murderous. + STANLEY. Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent. + ANNE. And I with all unwillingness will go. + O, would to God that the inclusive verge + Of golden metal that must round my brow + Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brains! + Anointed let me be with deadly venom, + And die ere men can say 'God save the Queen!' + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Go, go, poor soul; I envy not thy glory. + To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. + ANNE. No, why? When he that is my husband now + Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse; + When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands + Which issued from my other angel husband, + And that dear saint which then I weeping follow'd- + O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, + This was my wish: 'Be thou' quoth I 'accurs'd + For making me, so young, so old a widow; + And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed; + And be thy wife, if any be so mad, + More miserable by the life of thee + Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death.' + Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, + Within so small a time, my woman's heart + Grossly grew captive to his honey words + And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse, + Which hitherto hath held my eyes from rest; + For never yet one hour in his bed + Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep, + But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd. + Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick; + And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining. + ANNE. No more than with my soul I mourn for yours. + DORSET. Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory! + ANNE. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it! + DUCHESS. [To DORSET] Go thou to Richmond, and good + fortune guide thee! + [To ANNE] Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend + thee! [To QUEEN ELIZABETH] Go thou to sanctuary, and good + thoughts possess thee! + I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me! + Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, + And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Stay, yet look back with me unto the + Tower. + Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes + Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls, + Rough cradle for such little pretty ones. + Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow + For tender princes, use my babies well. + So foolish sorrows bids your stones farewell. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. + +London. The palace + +Sound a sennet. Enter RICHARD, in pomp, as KING; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, +RATCLIFF, LOVEL, a PAGE, and others + + KING RICHARD. Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham! + BUCKINGHAM. My gracious sovereign? + KING RICHARD. Give me thy hand. + [Here he ascendeth the throne. Sound] + Thus high, by thy advice + And thy assistance, is King Richard seated. + But shall we wear these glories for a day; + Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them? + BUCKINGHAM. Still live they, and for ever let them last! + KING RICHARD. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch, + To try if thou be current gold indeed. + Young Edward lives-think now what I would speak. + BUCKINGHAM. Say on, my loving lord. + KING RICHARD. Why, Buckingham, I say I would be King. + BUCKINGHAM. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned lord. + KING RICHARD. Ha! am I King? 'Tis so; but Edward lives. + BUCKINGHAM. True, noble Prince. + KING RICHARD. O bitter consequence: + That Edward still should live-true noble Prince! + Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull. + Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead. + And I would have it suddenly perform'd. + What say'st thou now? Speak suddenly, be brief. + BUCKINGHAM. Your Grace may do your pleasure. + KING RICHARD. Tut, tut, thou art all ice; thy kindness freezes. + Say, have I thy consent that they shall die? + BUCKINGHAM. Give me some little breath, some pause, + dear Lord, + Before I positively speak in this. + I will resolve you herein presently. Exit + CATESBY. [Aside to another] The King is angry; see, he + gnaws his lip. + KING RICHARD. I will converse with iron-witted fools + [Descends from the throne] + And unrespective boys; none are for me + That look into me with considerate eyes. + High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. + Boy! + PAGE. My lord? + KING RICHARD. Know'st thou not any whom corrupting + gold + Will tempt unto a close exploit of death? + PAGE. I know a discontented gentleman + Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit. + Gold were as good as twenty orators, + And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything. + KING RICHARD. What is his name? + PAGE. His name, my lord, is Tyrrel. + KING RICHARD. I partly know the man. Go, call him hither, + boy. Exit PAGE + The deep-revolving witty Buckingham + No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels. + Hath he so long held out with me, untir'd, + And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so. + + Enter STANLEY + + How now, Lord Stanley! What's the news? + STANLEY. Know, my loving lord, + The Marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled + To Richmond, in the parts where he abides. [Stands apart] + KING RICHARD. Come hither, Catesby. Rumour it abroad + That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick; + I will take order for her keeping close. + Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman, + Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter- + The boy is foolish, and I fear not him. + Look how thou dream'st! I say again, give out + That Anne, my queen, is sick and like to die. + About it; for it stands me much upon + To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me. + Exit CATESBY + I must be married to my brother's daughter, + Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. + Murder her brothers, and then marry her! + Uncertain way of gain! But I am in + So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin. + Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. + + Re-enter PAGE, with TYRREL + + Is thy name Tyrrel? + TYRREL. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. + KING RICHARD. Art thou, indeed? + TYRREL. Prove me, my gracious lord. + KING RICHARD. Dar'st'thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? + TYRREL. Please you; + But I had rather kill two enemies. + KING RICHARD. Why, then thou hast it. Two deep enemies, + Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, + Are they that I would have thee deal upon. + TYRREL, I mean those bastards in the Tower. + TYRREL. Let me have open means to come to them, + And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. + KING RICHARD. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come + hither, Tyrrel. + Go, by this token. Rise, and lend thine ear. [Whispers] + There is no more but so: say it is done, + And I will love thee and prefer thee for it. + TYRREL. I will dispatch it straight. Exit + + Re-enter BUCKINGHAM + + BUCKINGHAM. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind + The late request that you did sound me in. + KING RICHARD. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to + Richmond. + BUCKINGHAM. I hear the news, my lord. + KING RICHARD. Stanley, he is your wife's son: well, look + unto it. + BUCKINGHAM. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise, + For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd: + Th' earldom of Hereford and the movables + Which you have promised I shall possess. + KING RICHARD. Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey + Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. + BUCKINGHAM. What says your Highness to my just request? + KING RICHARD. I do remember me: Henry the Sixth + Did prophesy that Richmond should be King, + When Richmond was a little peevish boy. + A king!-perhaps- + BUCKINGHAM. My lord- + KING RICHARD. How chance the prophet could not at that + time + Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? + BUCKINGHAM. My lord, your promise for the earldom- + KING RICHARD. Richmond! When last I was at Exeter, + The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle + And call'd it Rugemount, at which name I started, + Because a bard of Ireland told me once + I should not live long after I saw Richmond. + BUCKINGHAM. My lord- + KING RICHARD. Ay, what's o'clock? + BUCKINGHAM. I am thus bold to put your Grace in mind + Of what you promis'd me. + KING RICHARD. Well, but o'clock? + BUCKINGHAM. Upon the stroke of ten. + KING RICHARD. Well, let it strike. + BUCKINGHAM. Why let it strike? + KING RICHARD. Because that like a Jack thou keep'st the + stroke + Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. + I am not in the giving vein to-day. + BUCKINGHAM. May it please you to resolve me in my suit. + KING RICHARD. Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. + Exeunt all but Buckingham + BUCKINGHAM. And is it thus? Repays he my deep service + With such contempt? Made I him King for this? + O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone + To Brecknock while my fearful head is on! Exit + + + + +SCENE 3. + +London. The palace + +Enter TYRREL + + TYRREL. The tyrannous and bloody act is done, + The most arch deed of piteous massacre + That ever yet this land was guilty of. + Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborn + To do this piece of ruthless butchery, + Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, + Melted with tenderness and mild compassion, + Wept like two children in their deaths' sad story. + 'O, thus' quoth Dighton 'lay the gentle babes'- + 'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest 'girdling one another + Within their alabaster innocent arms. + Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, + And in their summer beauty kiss'd each other. + A book of prayers on their pillow lay; + Which once,' quoth Forrest 'almost chang'd my mind; + But, O, the devil'-there the villain stopp'd; + When Dighton thus told on: 'We smothered + The most replenished sweet work of nature + That from the prime creation e'er she framed.' + Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse + They could not speak; and so I left them both, + To bear this tidings to the bloody King. + + Enter KING RICHARD + + And here he comes. All health, my sovereign lord! + KING RICHARD. Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news? + TYRREL. If to have done the thing you gave in charge + Beget your happiness, be happy then, + For it is done. + KING RICHARD. But didst thou see them dead? + TYRREL. I did, my lord. + KING RICHARD. And buried, gentle Tyrrel? + TYRREL. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them; + But where, to say the truth, I do not know. + KING RICHARD. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper, + When thou shalt tell the process of their death. + Meantime, but think how I may do thee good + And be inheritor of thy desire. + Farewell till then. + TYRREL. I humbly take my leave. Exit + KING RICHARD. The son of Clarence have I pent up close; + His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; + The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, + And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night. + Now, for I know the Britaine Richmond aims + At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, + And by that knot looks proudly on the crown, + To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer. + + Enter RATCLIFF + + RATCLIFF. My lord! + KING RICHARD. Good or bad news, that thou com'st in so + bluntly? + RATCLIFF. Bad news, my lord: Morton is fled to Richmond; + And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, + Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. + KING RICHARD. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near + Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. + Come, I have learn'd that fearful commenting + Is leaden servitor to dull delay; + Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary. + Then fiery expedition be my wing, + Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! + Go, muster men. My counsel is my shield. + We must be brief when traitors brave the field. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +London. Before the palace + +Enter old QUEEN MARGARET + + QUEEN MARGARET. So now prosperity begins to mellow + And drop into the rotten mouth of death. + Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd + To watch the waning of mine enemies. + A dire induction am I witness to, + And will to France, hoping the consequence + Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. + Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret. Who comes here? + [Retires] + + Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK + + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender + babes! + My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! + If yet your gentle souls fly in the air + And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, + Hover about me with your airy wings + And hear your mother's lamentation. + QUEEN MARGARET. Hover about her; say that right for right + Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. + DUCHESS. So many miseries have craz'd my voice + That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. + Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? + QUEEN MARGARET. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, + Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle + lambs + And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? + When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done? + QUEEN MARGARET. When holy Harry died, and my sweet + son. + DUCHESS. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost, + Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd, + Brief abstract and record of tedious days, + Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, [Sitting down] + Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a + grave + As thou canst yield a melancholy seat! + Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here. + Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we? + [Sitting down by her] + QUEEN MARGARET. [Coming forward] If ancient sorrow be + most reverend, + Give mine the benefit of seniory, + And let my griefs frown on the upper hand. + If sorrow can admit society, [Sitting down with them] + Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine. + I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; + I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him: + Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; + Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him. + DUCHESS. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him; + I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. + QUEEN MARGARET. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard + kill'd him. + From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept + A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death. + That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes + To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood, + That foul defacer of God's handiwork, + That excellent grand tyrant of the earth + That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, + Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves. + O upright, just, and true-disposing God, + How do I thank thee that this carnal cur + Preys on the issue of his mother's body + And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan! + DUCHESS. O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes! + God witness with me, I have wept for thine. + QUEEN MARGARET. Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge, + And now I cloy me with beholding it. + Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward; + The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; + Young York he is but boot, because both they + Match'd not the high perfection of my loss. + Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd my Edward; + And the beholders of this frantic play, + Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, + Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. + Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; + Only reserv'd their factor to buy souls + And send them thither. But at hand, at hand, + Ensues his piteous and unpitied end. + Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, + To have him suddenly convey'd from hence. + Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray, + That I may live and say 'The dog is dead.' + QUEEN ELIZABETH. O, thou didst prophesy the time would + come + That I should wish for thee to help me curse + That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad! + QUEEN MARGARET. I Call'd thee then vain flourish of my + fortune; + I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen, + The presentation of but what I was, + The flattering index of a direful pageant, + One heav'd a-high to be hurl'd down below, + A mother only mock'd with two fair babes, + A dream of what thou wast, a garish flag + To be the aim of every dangerous shot, + A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble, + A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. + Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers? + Where be thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy? + Who sues, and kneels, and says 'God save the Queen'? + Where be the bending peers that flattered thee? + Where be the thronging troops that followed thee? + Decline an this, and see what now thou art: + For happy wife, a most distressed widow; + For joyful mother, one that wails the name; + For one being su'd to, one that humbly sues; + For Queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care; + For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me; + For she being fear'd of all, now fearing one; + For she commanding all, obey'd of none. + Thus hath the course of justice whirl'd about + And left thee but a very prey to time, + Having no more but thought of what thou wast + To torture thee the more, being what thou art. + Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not + Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow? + Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke, + From which even here I slip my weary head + And leave the burden of it all on thee. + Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance; + These English woes shall make me smile in France. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile + And teach me how to curse mine enemies! + QUEEN MARGARET. Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the + days; + Compare dead happiness with living woe; + Think that thy babes were sweeter than they were, + And he that slew them fouler than he is. + Bett'ring thy loss makes the bad-causer worse; + Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. My words are dull; O, quicken them + with thine! + QUEEN MARGARET. Thy woes will make them sharp and + pierce like mine. Exit + DUCHESS. Why should calamity be fun of words? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Windy attorneys to their client woes, + Airy succeeders of intestate joys, + Poor breathing orators of miseries, + Let them have scope; though what they will impart + Help nothing else, yet do they case the heart. + DUCHESS. If so, then be not tongue-tied. Go with me, + And in the breath of bitter words let's smother + My damned son that thy two sweet sons smother'd. + The trumpet sounds; be copious in exclaims. + + Enter KING RICHARD and his train, marching with + drums and trumpets + + KING RICHARD. Who intercepts me in my expedition? + DUCHESS. O, she that might have intercepted thee, + By strangling thee in her accursed womb, + From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done! + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Hidest thou that forehead with a golden + crown + Where't should be branded, if that right were right, + The slaughter of the Prince that ow'd that crown, + And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers? + Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children? + DUCHESS. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother + Clarence? + And little Ned Plantagenet, his son? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, + Grey? + DUCHESS. Where is kind Hastings? + KING RICHARD. A flourish, trumpets! Strike alarum, drums! + Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women + Rail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say! + [Flourish. Alarums] + Either be patient and entreat me fair, + Or with the clamorous report of war + Thus will I drown your exclamations. + DUCHESS. Art thou my son? + KING RICHARD. Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself. + DUCHESS. Then patiently hear my impatience. + KING RICHARD. Madam, I have a touch of your condition + That cannot brook the accent of reproof. + DUCHESS. O, let me speak! + KING RICHARD. Do, then; but I'll not hear. + DUCHESS. I will be mild and gentle in my words. + KING RICHARD. And brief, good mother; for I am in haste. + DUCHESS. Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee, + God knows, in torment and in agony. + KING RICHARD. And came I not at last to comfort you? + DUCHESS. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well + Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell. + A grievous burden was thy birth to me; + Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; + Thy school-days frightful, desp'rate, wild, and furious; + Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous; + Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody, + More mild, but yet more harmful-kind in hatred. + What comfortable hour canst thou name + That ever grac'd me with thy company? + KING RICHARD. Faith, none but Humphrey Hour, that call'd + your Grace + To breakfast once forth of my company. + If I be so disgracious in your eye, + Let me march on and not offend you, madam. + Strike up the drum. + DUCHESS. I prithee hear me speak. + KING RICHARD. You speak too bitterly. + DUCHESS. Hear me a word; + For I shall never speak to thee again. + KING RICHARD. So. + DUCHESS. Either thou wilt die by God's just ordinance + Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror; + Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish + And never more behold thy face again. + Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse, + Which in the day of battle tire thee more + Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! + My prayers on the adverse party fight; + And there the little souls of Edward's children + Whisper the spirits of thine enemies + And promise them success and victory. + Bloody thou art; bloody will be thy end. + Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend. Exit + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Though far more cause, yet much less + spirit to curse + Abides in me; I say amen to her. + KING RICHARD. Stay, madam, I must talk a word with you. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. I have no moe sons of the royal blood + For thee to slaughter. For my daughters, Richard, + They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; + And therefore level not to hit their lives. + KING RICHARD. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth. + Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. And must she die for this? O, let her + live, + And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty, + Slander myself as false to Edward's bed, + Throw over her the veil of infamy; + So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, + I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. + KING RICHARD. Wrong not her birth; she is a royal + Princess. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. To save her life I'll say she is not so. + KING RICHARD. Her life is safest only in her birth. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. And only in that safety died her + brothers. + KING RICHARD. Lo, at their birth good stars were opposite. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. No, to their lives ill friends were + contrary. + KING RICHARD. All unavoided is the doom of destiny. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. True, when avoided grace makes destiny. + My babes were destin'd to a fairer death, + If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. + KING RICHARD. You speak as if that I had slain my cousins. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle + cozen'd + Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. + Whose hand soever lanc'd their tender hearts, + Thy head, an indirectly, gave direction. + No doubt the murd'rous knife was dull and blunt + Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart + To revel in the entrails of my lambs. + But that stiff use of grief makes wild grief tame, + My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys + Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes; + And I, in such a desp'rate bay of death, + Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft, + Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. + KING RICHARD. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise + And dangerous success of bloody wars, + As I intend more good to you and yours + Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd! + QUEEN ELIZABETH. What good is cover'd with the face of + heaven, + To be discover'd, that can do me good? + KING RICHARD. advancement of your children, gentle + lady. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their + heads? + KING RICHARD. Unto the dignity and height of Fortune, + The high imperial type of this earth's glory. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Flatter my sorrow with report of it; + Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour, + Canst thou demise to any child of mine? + KING RICHARD. Even all I have-ay, and myself and all + Will I withal endow a child of thine; + So in the Lethe of thy angry soul + Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs + Which thou supposest I have done to thee. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Be brief, lest that the process of thy + kindness + Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. + KING RICHARD. Then know, that from my soul I love thy + daughter. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. My daughter's mother thinks it with her + soul. + KING RICHARD. What do you think? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. That thou dost love my daughter from + thy soul. + So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers, + And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it. + KING RICHARD. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning. + I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter + And do intend to make her Queen of England. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Well, then, who dost thou mean shall be + her king? + KING RICHARD. Even he that makes her Queen. Who else + should be? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. What, thou? + KING RICHARD. Even so. How think you of it? + QUEEN ELIZABETH. How canst thou woo her? + KING RICHARD. That would I learn of you, + As one being best acquainted with her humour. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. And wilt thou learn of me? + KING RICHARD. Madam, with all my heart. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Send to her, by the man that slew her + brothers, + A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave + 'Edward' and 'York.' Then haply will she weep; + Therefore present to her-as sometimes Margaret + Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood- + A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain + The purple sap from her sweet brother's body, + And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. + If this inducement move her not to love, + Send her a letter of thy noble deeds; + Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, + Her uncle Rivers; ay, and for her sake + Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. + KING RICHARD. You mock me, madam; this is not the way + To win your daughter. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. There is no other way; + Unless thou couldst put on some other shape + And not be Richard that hath done all this. + KING RICHARD. Say that I did all this for love of her. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but + hate thee, + Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. + KING RICHARD. Look what is done cannot be now amended. + Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, + Which after-hours gives leisure to repent. + If I did take the kingdom from your sons, + To make amends I'll give it to your daughter. + If I have kill'd the issue of your womb, + To quicken your increase I will beget + Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. + A grandam's name is little less in love + Than is the doating title of a mother; + They are as children but one step below, + Even of your metal, of your very blood; + Of all one pain, save for a night of groans + Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. + Your children were vexation to your youth; + But mine shall be a comfort to your age. + The loss you have is but a son being King, + And by that loss your daughter is made Queen. + I cannot make you what amends I would, + Therefore accept such kindness as I can. + Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul + Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, + This fair alliance quickly shall can home + To high promotions and great dignity. + The King, that calls your beauteous daughter wife, + Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother; + Again shall you be mother to a king, + And all the ruins of distressful times + Repair'd with double riches of content. + What! we have many goodly days to see. + The liquid drops of tears that you have shed + Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl, + Advantaging their loan with interest + Of ten times double gain of happiness. + Go, then, my mother, to thy daughter go; + Make bold her bashful years with your experience; + Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale; + Put in her tender heart th' aspiring flame + Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the Princes + With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys. + And when this arm of mine hath chastised + The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham, + Bound with triumphant garlands will I come, + And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed; + To whom I will retail my conquest won, + And she shall be sole victoress, Caesar's Caesar. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. What were I best to say? Her father's + brother + Would be her lord? Or shall I say her uncle? + Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles? + Under what title shall I woo for thee + That God, the law, my honour, and her love + Can make seem pleasing to her tender years? + KING RICHARD. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Which she shall purchase with + still-lasting war. + KING RICHARD. Tell her the King, that may command, + entreats. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. That at her hands which the King's + King forbids. + KING RICHARD. Say she shall be a high and mighty queen. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. To wail the title, as her mother doth. + KING RICHARD. Say I will love her everlastingly. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. But how long shall that title 'ever' last? + KING RICHARD. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. But how long fairly shall her sweet life + last? + KING RICHARD. As long as heaven and nature lengthens it. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. As long as hell and Richard likes of it. + KING RICHARD. Say I, her sovereign, am her subject low. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. But she, your subject, loathes such + sovereignty. + KING RICHARD. Be eloquent in my behalf to her. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. An honest tale speeds best being plainly + told. + KING RICHARD. Then plainly to her tell my loving tale. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Plain and not honest is too harsh a style. + KING RICHARD. Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. O, no, my reasons are too deep and + dead- + Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. + KING RICHARD. Harp not on that string, madam; that is past. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Harp on it still shall I till heartstrings + break. + KING RICHARD. Now, by my George, my garter, and my + crown- + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third + usurp'd. + KING RICHARD. I swear- + QUEEN ELIZABETH. By nothing; for this is no oath: + Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his lordly honour; + Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; + Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory. + If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd, + Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. + KING RICHARD. Then, by my self- + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Thy self is self-misus'd. + KING RICHARD. Now, by the world- + QUEEN ELIZABETH. 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. + KING RICHARD. My father's death- + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Thy life hath it dishonour'd. + KING RICHARD. Why, then, by God- + QUEEN ELIZABETH. God's wrong is most of all. + If thou didst fear to break an oath with Him, + The unity the King my husband made + Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers died. + If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, + Th' imperial metal, circling now thy head, + Had grac'd the tender temples of my child; + And both the Princes had been breathing here, + Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust, + Thy broken faith hath made the prey for worms. + What canst thou swear by now? + KING RICHARD. The time to come. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. That thou hast wronged in the time + o'erpast; + For I myself have many tears to wash + Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee. + The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughter'd, + Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age; + The parents live whose children thou hast butcheed, + Old barren plants, to wail it with their age. + Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast + Misus'd ere us'd, by times ill-us'd o'erpast. + KING RICHARD. As I intend to prosper and repent, + So thrive I in my dangerous affairs + Of hostile arms! Myself myself confound! + Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours! + Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest! + Be opposite all planets of good luck + To my proceeding!-if, with dear heart's love, + Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, + I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter. + In her consists my happiness and thine; + Without her, follows to myself and thee, + Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul, + Death, desolation, ruin, and decay. + It cannot be avoided but by this; + It will not be avoided but by this. + Therefore, dear mother-I must call you so- + Be the attorney of my love to her; + Plead what I will be, not what I have been; + Not my deserts, but what I will deserve. + Urge the necessity and state of times, + And be not peevish-fond in great designs. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? + KING RICHARD. Ay, if the devil tempt you to do good. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Shall I forget myself to be myself? + KING RICHARD. Ay, if your self's remembrance wrong + yourself. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Yet thou didst kill my children. + KING RICHARD. But in your daughter's womb I bury them; + Where, in that nest of spicery, they will breed + Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? + KING RICHARD. And be a happy mother by the deed. + QUEEN ELIZABETH. I go. Write to me very shortly, + And you shall understand from me her mind. + KING RICHARD. Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, farewell. + Kissing her. Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH + Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman! + + Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following + + How now! what news? + RATCLIFF. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast + Rideth a puissant navy; to our shores + Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, + Unarm'd, and unresolv'd to beat them back. + 'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; + And there they hull, expecting but the aid + Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore. + KING RICHARD. Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of + Norfolk. + Ratcliff, thyself-or Catesby; where is he? + CATESBY. Here, my good lord. + KING RICHARD. Catesby, fly to the Duke. + CATESBY. I will my lord, with all convenient haste. + KING RICHARD. Ratcliff, come hither. Post to Salisbury; + When thou com'st thither- [To CATESBY] Dull, + unmindfull villain, + Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke? + CATESBY. First, mighty liege, tell me your Highness' pleasure, + What from your Grace I shall deliver to him. + KING RICHARD. O, true, good Catesby. Bid him levy straight + The greatest strength and power that he can make + And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. + CATESBY. I go. Exit + RATCLIFF. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury? + KING RICHARD. Why, what wouldst thou do there before I + go? + RATCLIFF. Your Highness told me I should post before. + KING RICHARD. My mind is chang'd. + + Enter LORD STANLEY + + STANLEY, what news with you? + STANLEY. None good, my liege, to please you with + the hearing; + Nor none so bad but well may be reported. + KING RICHARD. Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad! + What need'st thou run so many miles about, + When thou mayest tell thy tale the nearest way? + Once more, what news? + STANLEY. Richmond is on the seas. + KING RICHARD. There let him sink, and be the seas on him! + White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? + STANLEY. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. + KING RICHARD. Well, as you guess? + STANLEY. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, + He makes for England here to claim the crown. + KING RICHARD. Is the chair empty? Is the sword unsway'd? + Is the King dead, the empire unpossess'd? + What heir of York is there alive but we? + And who is England's King but great York's heir? + Then tell me what makes he upon the seas. + STANLEY. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. + KING RICHARD. Unless for that he comes to be your liege, + You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. + Thou wilt revolt and fly to him, I fear. + STANLEY. No, my good lord; therefore mistrust me not. + KING RICHARD. Where is thy power then, to beat him back? + Where be thy tenants and thy followers? + Are they not now upon the western shore, + Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships? + STANLEY. No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. + KING RICHARD. Cold friends to me. What do they in the + north, + When they should serve their sovereign in the west? + STANLEY. They have not been commanded, mighty King. + Pleaseth your Majesty to give me leave, + I'll muster up my friends and meet your Grace + Where and what time your Majesty shall please. + KING RICHARD. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to join with + Richmond; + But I'll not trust thee. + STANLEY. Most mighty sovereign, + You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful. + I never was nor never will be false. + KING RICHARD. Go, then, and muster men. But leave behind + Your son, George Stanley. Look your heart be firm, + Or else his head's assurance is but frail. + STANLEY. So deal with him as I prove true to you. Exit + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, + As I by friends am well advertised, + Sir Edward Courtney and the haughty prelate, + Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother, + With many moe confederates, are in arms. + + Enter another MESSENGER + + SECOND MESSENGER. In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in + arms; + And every hour more competitors + Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. + + Enter another MESSENGER + + THIRD MESSENGER. My lord, the army of great Buckingham- + KING RICHARD. Out on you, owls! Nothing but songs of + death? [He strikes him] + There, take thou that till thou bring better news. + THIRD MESSENGER. The news I have to tell your Majesty + Is that by sudden floods and fall of waters + Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd; + And he himself wand'red away alone, + No man knows whither. + KING RICHARD. I cry thee mercy. + There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. + Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd + Reward to him that brings the traitor in? + THIRD MESSENGER. Such proclamation hath been made, + my Lord. + + Enter another MESSENGER + + FOURTH MESSENGER. Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis + Dorset, + 'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. + But this good comfort bring I to your Highness- + The Britaine navy is dispers'd by tempest. + Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a boat + Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks + If they were his assistants, yea or no; + Who answer'd him they came from Buckingham + Upon his party. He, mistrusting them, + Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Britaine. + KING RICHARD. March on, march on, since we are up in + arms; + If not to fight with foreign enemies, + Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. + + Re-enter CATESBY + + CATESBY. My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken- + That is the best news. That the Earl of Richmond + Is with a mighty power landed at Milford + Is colder tidings, yet they must be told. + KING RICHARD. Away towards Salisbury! While we reason + here + A royal battle might be won and lost. + Some one take order Buckingham be brought + To Salisbury; the rest march on with me. + Flourish. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 5. + +LORD DERBY'S house + +Enter STANLEY and SIR CHRISTOPHER URSWICK + + STANLEY. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me: + That in the sty of the most deadly boar + My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold; + If I revolt, off goes young George's head; + The fear of that holds off my present aid. + So, get thee gone; commend me to thy lord. + Withal say that the Queen hath heartily consented + He should espouse Elizabeth her daughter. + But tell me, where is princely Richmond now? + CHRISTOPHER. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford west in Wales. + STANLEY. What men of name resort to him? + CHRISTOPHER. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; + SIR Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley, + OXFORD, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, + And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew; + And many other of great name and worth; + And towards London do they bend their power, + If by the way they be not fought withal. + STANLEY. Well, hie thee to thy lord; I kiss his hand; + My letter will resolve him of my mind. + Farewell. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1. + +Salisbury. An open place + +Enter the SHERIFF and guard, with BUCKINGHAM, led to execution + + BUCKINGHAM. Will not King Richard let me speak with + him? + SHERIFF. No, my good lord; therefore be patient. + BUCKINGHAM. Hastings, and Edward's children, Grey, and + Rivers, + Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward, + Vaughan, and all that have miscarried + By underhand corrupted foul injustice, + If that your moody discontented souls + Do through the clouds behold this present hour, + Even for revenge mock my destruction! + This is All-Souls' day, fellow, is it not? + SHERIFF. It is, my lord. + BUCKINGHAM. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's + doomsday. + This is the day which in King Edward's time + I wish'd might fall on me when I was found + False to his children and his wife's allies; + This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall + By the false faith of him whom most I trusted; + This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul + Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs; + That high All-Seer which I dallied with + Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head + And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. + Thus doth He force the swords of wicked men + To turn their own points in their masters' bosoms. + Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck. + 'When he' quoth she 'shall split thy heart with sorrow, + Remember Margaret was a prophetess.' + Come lead me, officers, to the block of shame; + Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. + +Camp near Tamworth + +Enter RICHMOND, OXFORD, SIR JAMES BLUNT, SIR WALTER HERBERT, and others, +with drum and colours + + RICHMOND. Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, + Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny, + Thus far into the bowels of the land + Have we march'd on without impediment; + And here receive we from our father Stanley + Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. + The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, + That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines, + Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough + In your embowell'd bosoms-this foul swine + Is now even in the centre of this isle, + Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn. + From Tamworth thither is but one day's march. + In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends, + To reap the harvest of perpetual peace + By this one bloody trial of sharp war. + OXFORD. Every man's conscience is a thousand men, + To fight against this guilty homicide. + HERBERT. I doubt not but his friends will turn to us. + BLUNT. He hath no friends but what are friends for fear, + Which in his dearest need will fly from him. + RICHMOND. All for our vantage. Then in God's name march. + True hope is swift and flies with swallow's wings; + Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +Bosworth Field + +Enter KING RICHARD in arms, with NORFOLK, RATCLIFF, +the EARL of SURREYS and others + + KING RICHARD. Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth + field. + My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? + SURREY. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. + KING RICHARD. My Lord of Norfolk! + NORFOLK. Here, most gracious liege. + KING RICHARD. Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we + not? + NORFOLK. We must both give and take, my loving lord. + KING RICHARD. Up With my tent! Here will I lie to-night; + [Soldiers begin to set up the KING'S tent] + But where to-morrow? Well, all's one for that. + Who hath descried the number of the traitors? + NORFOLK. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. + KING RICHARD. Why, our battalia trebles that account; + Besides, the King's name is a tower of strength, + Which they upon the adverse faction want. + Up with the tent! Come, noble gentlemen, + Let us survey the vantage of the ground. + Call for some men of sound direction. + Let's lack no discipline, make no delay; + For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. Exeunt + + Enter, on the other side of the field, + RICHMOND, SIR WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD, DORSET, + and others. Some pitch RICHMOND'S tent + + RICHMOND. The weary sun hath made a golden set, + And by the bright tract of his fiery car + Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. + Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. + Give me some ink and paper in my tent. + I'll draw the form and model of our battle, + Limit each leader to his several charge, + And part in just proportion our small power. + My Lord of Oxford-you, Sir William Brandon- + And you, Sir Walter Herbert-stay with me. + The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment; + Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him, + And by the second hour in the morning + Desire the Earl to see me in my tent. + Yet one thing more, good Captain, do for me- + Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know? + BLUNT. Unless I have mista'en his colours much- + Which well I am assur'd I have not done- + His regiment lies half a mile at least + South from the mighty power of the King. + RICHMOND. If without peril it be possible, + Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him + And give him from me this most needful note. + BLUNT. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it; + And so, God give you quiet rest to-night! + RICHMOND. Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come, + gentlemen, + Let us consult upon to-morrow's business. + In to my tent; the dew is raw and cold. + [They withdraw into the tent] + + Enter, to his-tent, KING RICHARD, NORFOLK, + RATCLIFF, and CATESBY + + KING RICHARD. What is't o'clock? + CATESBY. It's supper-time, my lord; + It's nine o'clock. + KING RICHARD. I will not sup to-night. + Give me some ink and paper. + What, is my beaver easier than it was? + And all my armour laid into my tent? + CATESBY. It is, my liege; and all things are in readiness. + KING RICHARD. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; + Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. + NORFOLK. I go, my lord. + KING RICHARD. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk. + NORFOLK. I warrant you, my lord. Exit + KING RICHARD. Catesby! + CATESBY. My lord? + KING RICHARD. Send out a pursuivant-at-arms + To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power + Before sunrising, lest his son George fall + Into the blind cave of eternal night. Exit CATESBY + Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch. + Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. + Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. + Ratcliff! + RATCLIFF. My lord? + KING RICHARD. Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord + Northumberland? + RATCLIFF. Thomas the Earl of Surrey and himself, + Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop + Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. + KING RICHARD. So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine. + I have not that alacrity of spirit + Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have. + Set it down. Is ink and paper ready? + RATCLIFF. It is, my lord. + KING RICHARD. Bid my guard watch; leave me. + RATCLIFF, about the mid of night come to my tent + And help to arm me. Leave me, I say. + Exit RATCLIFF. RICHARD sleeps + + Enter DERBY to RICHMOND in his tent; + LORDS attending + + DERBY. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm! + RICHMOND. All comfort that the dark night can afford + Be to thy person, noble father-in-law! + Tell me, how fares our loving mother? + DERBY. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother, + Who prays continually for Richmond's good. + So much for that. The silent hours steal on, + And flaky darkness breaks within the east. + In brief, for so the season bids us be, + Prepare thy battle early in the morning, + And put thy fortune to the arbitrement + Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. + I, as I may-that which I would I cannot- + With best advantage will deceive the time + And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms; + But on thy side I may not be too forward, + Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, + Be executed in his father's sight. + Farewell; the leisure and the fearful time + Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love + And ample interchange of sweet discourse + Which so-long-sund'red friends should dwell upon. + God give us leisure for these rites of love! + Once more, adieu; be valiant, and speed well! + RICHMOND. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment. + I'll strive with troubled thoughts to take a nap, + Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow + When I should mount with wings of victory. + Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. + Exeunt all but RICHMOND + O Thou, whose captain I account myself, + Look on my forces with a gracious eye; + Put in their hands Thy bruising irons of wrath, + That they may crush down with a heavy fall + The usurping helmets of our adversaries! + Make us Thy ministers of chastisement, + That we may praise Thee in the victory! + To Thee I do commend my watchful soul + Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes. + Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! [Sleeps] + + Enter the GHOST Of YOUNG PRINCE EDWARD, + son to HENRY THE SIXTH + + GHOST. [To RICHARD] Let me sit heavy on thy soul + to-morrow! + Think how thou stabb'dst me in my prime of youth + At Tewksbury; despair, therefore, and die! + [To RICHMOND] Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged + souls + Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf. + King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. + + Enter the GHOST of HENRY THE SIXTH + + GHOST. [To RICHARD] When I was mortal, my anointed + body + By thee was punched full of deadly holes. + Think on the Tower and me. Despair, and die. + Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die. + [To RICHMOND] Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror! + Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be King, + Doth comfort thee in thy sleep. Live and flourish! + + Enter the GHOST of CLARENCE + + GHOST. [To RICHARD] Let me sit heavy in thy soul + to-morrow! I that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, + Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! + To-morrow in the battle think on me, + And fall thy edgeless sword. Despair and die! + [To RICHMOND] Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, + The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee. + Good angels guard thy battle! Live and flourish! + + Enter the GHOSTS of RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN + + GHOST OF RIVERS. [To RICHARD] Let me sit heavy in thy + soul to-morrow, + Rivers that died at Pomfret! Despair and die! + GHOST OF GREY. [To RICHARD] Think upon Grey, and let + thy soul despair! + GHOST OF VAUGHAN. [To RICHARD] Think upon Vaughan, + and with guilty fear + Let fall thy lance. Despair and die! + ALL. [To RICHMOND] Awake, and think our wrongs in + Richard's bosom + Will conquer him. Awake and win the day. + + Enter the GHOST of HASTINGS + + GHOST. [To RICHARD] Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake, + And in a bloody battle end thy days! + Think on Lord Hastings. Despair and die. + [To RICHMOND] Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake! + Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake! + + Enter the GHOSTS of the two young PRINCES + + GHOSTS. [To RICHARD] Dream on thy cousins smothered in + the Tower. + Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, + And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death! + Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die. + [To RICHMOND] Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and + wake in joy; + Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy! + Live, and beget a happy race of kings! + Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. + + Enter the GHOST of LADY ANNE, his wife + + GHOST. [To RICHARD] Richard, thy wife, that wretched + Anne thy wife + That never slept a quiet hour with thee + Now fills thy sleep with perturbations. + To-morrow in the battle think on me, + And fall thy edgeless sword. Despair and die. + [To RICHMOND] Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep; + Dream of success and happy victory. + Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. + + Enter the GHOST of BUCKINGHAM + + GHOST. [To RICHARD] The first was I that help'd thee + to the crown; + The last was I that felt thy tyranny. + O, in the battle think on Buckingham, + And die in terror of thy guiltiness! + Dream on, dream on of bloody deeds and death; + Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath! + [To RICHMOND] I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid; + But cheer thy heart and be thou not dismay'd: + God and good angels fight on Richmond's side; + And Richard falls in height of all his pride. + [The GHOSTS vanish. RICHARD starts out of his dream] + KING RICHARD. Give me another horse. Bind up my wounds. + Have mercy, Jesu! Soft! I did but dream. + O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! + The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. + Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. + What do I fear? Myself? There's none else by. + Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. + Is there a murderer here? No-yes, I am. + Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why- + Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself! + Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? For any good + That I myself have done unto myself? + O, no! Alas, I rather hate myself + For hateful deeds committed by myself! + I am a villain; yet I lie, I am not. + Fool, of thyself speak well. Fool, do not flatter. + My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, + And every tongue brings in a several tale, + And every tale condemns me for a villain. + Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; + Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree; + All several sins, all us'd in each degree, + Throng to the bar, crying all 'Guilty! guilty!' + I shall despair. There is no creature loves me; + And if I die no soul will pity me: + And wherefore should they, since that I myself + Find in myself no pity to myself? + Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd + Came to my tent, and every one did threat + To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. + + Enter RATCLIFF + + RATCLIFF. My lord! + KING RICHARD. Zounds, who is there? + RATCLIFF. Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I. The early village-cock + Hath twice done salutation to the morn; + Your friends are up and buckle on their armour. + KING RICHARD. O Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream! + What think'st thou-will our friends prove all true? + RATCLIFF. No doubt, my lord. + KING RICHARD. O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear. + RATCLIFF. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. + KING RICHARD By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night + Have stuck more terror to the soul of Richard + Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers + Armed in proof and led by shallow Richmond. + 'Tis not yet near day. Come, go with me; + Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper, + To see if any mean to shrink from me. Exeunt + + Enter the LORDS to RICHMOND sitting in his tent + + LORDS. Good morrow, Richmond! + RICHMOND. Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, + That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. + LORDS. How have you slept, my lord? + RICHMOND. The sweetest sleep and fairest-boding dreams + That ever ent'red in a drowsy head + Have I since your departure had, my lords. + Methought their souls whose bodies Richard murder'd + Came to my tent and cried on victory. + I promise you my soul is very jocund + In the remembrance of so fair a dream. + How far into the morning is it, lords? + LORDS. Upon the stroke of four. + RICHMOND. Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction. + + His ORATION to his SOLDIERS + + More than I have said, loving countrymen, + The leisure and enforcement of the time + Forbids to dwell upon; yet remember this: + God and our good cause fight upon our side; + The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, + Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces; + Richard except, those whom we fight against + Had rather have us win than him they follow. + For what is he they follow? Truly, gentlemen, + A bloody tyrant and a homicide; + One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd; + One that made means to come by what he hath, + And slaughtered those that were the means to help him; + A base foul stone, made precious by the foil + Of England's chair, where he is falsely set; + One that hath ever been God's enemy. + Then if you fight against God's enemy, + God will in justice ward you as his soldiers; + If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, + You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; + If you do fight against your country's foes, + Your country's foes shall pay your pains the hire; + If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, + Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; + If you do free your children from the sword, + Your children's children quits it in your age. + Then, in the name of God and all these rights, + Advance your standards, draw your willing swords. + For me, the ransom of my bold attempt + Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face; + But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt + The least of you shall share his part thereof. + Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully; + God and Saint George! Richmond and victory! Exeunt + + Re-enter KING RICHARD, RATCLIFF, attendants, + and forces + + KING RICHARD. What said Northumberland as touching + Richmond? + RATCLIFF. That he was never trained up in arms. + KING RICHARD. He said the truth; and what said Surrey + then? + RATCLIFF. He smil'd, and said 'The better for our purpose.' + KING He was in the right; and so indeed it is. + [Clock strikes] + Tell the clock there. Give me a calendar. + Who saw the sun to-day? + RATCLIFF. Not I, my lord. + KING RICHARD. Then he disdains to shine; for by the book + He should have brav'd the east an hour ago. + A black day will it be to somebody. + Ratcliff! + RATCLIFF. My lord? + KING RICHARD. The sun will not be seen to-day; + The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. + I would these dewy tears were from the ground. + Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me + More than to Richmond? For the selfsame heaven + That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. + + Enter NORFOLK + + NORFOLK. Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field. + KING RICHARD. Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse; + Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power. + I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, + And thus my battle shall be ordered: + My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, + Consisting equally of horse and foot; + Our archers shall be placed in the midst. + John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, + Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. + They thus directed, we will follow + In the main battle, whose puissance on either side + Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. + This, and Saint George to boot! What think'st thou, + Norfolk? + NORFOLK. A good direction, warlike sovereign. + This found I on my tent this morning. + [He sheweth him a paper] + KING RICHARD. [Reads] + 'Jockey of Norfolk, be not so bold, + For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.' + A thing devised by the enemy. + Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge. + Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls; + Conscience is but a word that cowards use, + Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe. + Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. + March on, join bravely, let us to it pell-mell; + If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. + + His ORATION to his ARMY + + What shall I say more than I have inferr'd? + Remember whom you are to cope withal- + A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, + A scum of Britaines, and base lackey peasants, + Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth + To desperate adventures and assur'd destruction. + You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest; + You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives, + They would restrain the one, distain the other. + And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, + Long kept in Britaine at our mother's cost? + A milk-sop, one that never in his life + Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow? + Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again; + Lash hence these over-weening rags of France, + These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives; + Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, + For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves. + If we be conquered, let men conquer us, + And not these bastard Britaines, whom our fathers + Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd, + And, in record, left them the heirs of shame. + Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives, + Ravish our daughters? [Drum afar off] Hark! I hear their + drum. + Fight, gentlemen of England! Fight, bold yeomen! + Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! + Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood; + Amaze the welkin with your broken staves! + + Enter a MESSENGER + + What says Lord Stanley? Will he bring his power? + MESSENGER. My lord, he doth deny to come. + KING RICHARD. Off with his son George's head! + NORFOLK. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh. + After the battle let George Stanley die. + KING RICHARD. A thousand hearts are great within my + bosom. + Advance our standards, set upon our foes; + Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, + Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! + Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +Another part of the field + +Alarum; excursions. Enter NORFOLK and forces; to him CATESBY + + CATESBY. Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! + The King enacts more wonders than a man, + Daring an opposite to every danger. + His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, + Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death. + Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost. + + Alarums. Enter KING RICHARD + + KING RICHARD. A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! + CATESBY. Withdraw, my lord! I'll help you to a horse. + KING RICHARD. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast + And I Will stand the hazard of the die. + I think there be six Richmonds in the field; + Five have I slain to-day instead of him. + A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 5. + +Another part of the field + +Alarum. Enter RICHARD and RICHMOND; they fight; RICHARD is slain. +Retreat and flourish. Enter RICHMOND, DERBY bearing the crown, +with other LORDS + + RICHMOND. God and your arms be prais'd, victorious friends; + The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. + DERBY. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee! + Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty + From the dead temples of this bloody wretch + Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal. + Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. + RICHMOND. Great God of heaven, say Amen to all! + But, teLL me is young George Stanley living. + DERBY. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town, + Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. + RICHMOND. What men of name are slain on either side? + DERBY. John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers, + Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon. + RICHMOND. Inter their bodies as becomes their births. + Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled + That in submission will return to us. + And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament, + We will unite the white rose and the red. + Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, + That long have frown'd upon their emnity! + What traitor hears me, and says not Amen? + England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; + The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, + The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, + The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire; + All this divided York and Lancaster, + Divided in their dire division, + O, now let Richmond and Elizabeth, + The true succeeders of each royal house, + By God's fair ordinance conjoin together! + And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so, + Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace, + With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days! + Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, + That would reduce these bloody days again + And make poor England weep in streams of blood! + Let them not live to taste this land's increase + That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! + Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again- + That she may long live here, God say Amen! Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1595 + + +THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + Chorus. + + Escalus, Prince of Verona. + Paris, a young Count, kinsman to the Prince. + Montague, heads of two houses at variance with each other. + Capulet, heads of two houses at variance with each other. + An old Man, of the Capulet family. + Romeo, son to Montague. + Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet. + Mercutio, kinsman to the Prince and friend to Romeo. + Benvolio, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo + Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet. + Friar Laurence, Franciscan. + Friar John, Franciscan. + Balthasar, servant to Romeo. + Abram, servant to Montague. + Sampson, servant to Capulet. + Gregory, servant to Capulet. + Peter, servant to Juliet's nurse. + An Apothecary. + Three Musicians. + An Officer. + + Lady Montague, wife to Montague. + Lady Capulet, wife to Capulet. + Juliet, daughter to Capulet. + Nurse to Juliet. + + Citizens of Verona; Gentlemen and Gentlewomen of both houses; + Maskers, Torchbearers, Pages, Guards, Watchmen, Servants, and + Attendants. + + SCENE.--Verona; Mantua. + + + + THE PROLOGUE + + Enter Chorus. + + Chor. Two households, both alike in dignity, + In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, + From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, + Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. + From forth the fatal loins of these two foes + A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; + Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows + Doth with their death bury their parents' strife. + The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, + And the continuance of their parents' rage, + Which, but their children's end, naught could remove, + Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; + The which if you with patient ears attend, + What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. + [Exit.] + + + + +<> + + + +ACT I. Scene I. +Verona. A public place. + +Enter Sampson and Gregory (with swords and bucklers) of the house of Capulet. + + Samp. Gregory, on my word, we'll not carry coals. + Greg. No, for then we should be colliers. + Samp. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. + Greg. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of collar. + Samp. I strike quickly, being moved. + Greg. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. + Samp. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. + Greg. To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand. + Therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. + Samp. A dog of that house shall move me to stand. I will take the + wall of any man or maid of Montague's. + Greg. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the + wall. + Samp. 'Tis true; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are + ever thrust to the wall. Therefore I will push Montague's men + from the wall and thrust his maids to the wall. + Greg. The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. + Samp. 'Tis all one. I will show myself a tyrant. When I have fought + with the men, I will be cruel with the maids- I will cut off + their heads. + Greg. The heads of the maids? + Samp. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads. + Take it in what sense thou wilt. + Greg. They must take it in sense that feel it. + Samp. Me they shall feel while I am able to stand; and 'tis known I + am a pretty piece of flesh. + Greg. 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been + poor-John. Draw thy tool! Here comes two of the house of + Montagues. + + Enter two other Servingmen [Abram and Balthasar]. + + Samp. My naked weapon is out. Quarrel! I will back thee. + Greg. How? turn thy back and run? + Samp. Fear me not. + Greg. No, marry. I fear thee! + Samp. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. + Greg. I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. + Samp. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is + disgrace to them, if they bear it. + Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + Samp. I do bite my thumb, sir. + Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + Samp. [aside to Gregory] Is the law of our side if I say ay? + Greg. [aside to Sampson] No. + Samp. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my + thumb, sir. + Greg. Do you quarrel, sir? + Abr. Quarrel, sir? No, sir. + Samp. But if you do, sir, am for you. I serve as good a man as you. + Abr. No better. + Samp. Well, sir. + + Enter Benvolio. + + Greg. [aside to Sampson] Say 'better.' Here comes one of my + master's kinsmen. + Samp. Yes, better, sir. + Abr. You lie. + Samp. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. + They fight. + Ben. Part, fools! [Beats down their swords.] + Put up your swords. You know not what you do. + + Enter Tybalt. + + Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? + Turn thee Benvolio! look upon thy death. + Ben. I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword, + Or manage it to part these men with me. + Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word + As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. + Have at thee, coward! They fight. + + Enter an officer, and three or four Citizens with clubs or + partisans. + + Officer. Clubs, bills, and partisans! Strike! beat them down! + Citizens. Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues! + + Enter Old Capulet in his gown, and his Wife. + + Cap. What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! + Wife. A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? + Cap. My sword, I say! Old Montague is come + And flourishes his blade in spite of me. + + Enter Old Montague and his Wife. + + Mon. Thou villain Capulet!- Hold me not, let me go. + M. Wife. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. + + Enter Prince Escalus, with his Train. + + Prince. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, + Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel- + Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, + That quench the fire of your pernicious rage + With purple fountains issuing from your veins! + On pain of torture, from those bloody hands + Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground + And hear the sentence of your moved prince. + Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word + By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, + Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets + And made Verona's ancient citizens + Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments + To wield old partisans, in hands as old, + Cank'red with peace, to part your cank'red hate. + If ever you disturb our streets again, + Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. + For this time all the rest depart away. + You, Capulet, shall go along with me; + And, Montague, come you this afternoon, + To know our farther pleasure in this case, + To old Freetown, our common judgment place. + Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. + Exeunt [all but Montague, his Wife, and Benvolio]. + Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? + Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? + Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary + And yours, close fighting ere I did approach. + I drew to part them. In the instant came + The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; + Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, + He swung about his head and cut the winds, + Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn. + While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, + Came more and more, and fought on part and part, + Till the Prince came, who parted either part. + M. Wife. O, where is Romeo? Saw you him to-day? + Right glad I am he was not at this fray. + Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun + Peer'd forth the golden window of the East, + A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; + Where, underneath the grove of sycamore + That westward rooteth from the city's side, + So early walking did I see your son. + Towards him I made; but he was ware of me + And stole into the covert of the wood. + I- measuring his affections by my own, + Which then most sought where most might not be found, + Being one too many by my weary self- + Pursu'd my humour, not Pursuing his, + And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. + Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, + With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, + Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; + But all so soon as the all-cheering sun + Should in the farthest East bean to draw + The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, + Away from light steals home my heavy son + And private in his chamber pens himself, + Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight + And makes himself an artificial night. + Black and portentous must this humour prove + Unless good counsel may the cause remove. + Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? + Mon. I neither know it nor can learn of him + Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means? + Mon. Both by myself and many other friend; + But he, his own affections' counsellor, + Is to himself- I will not say how true- + But to himself so secret and so close, + So far from sounding and discovery, + As is the bud bit with an envious worm + Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air + Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. + Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, + We would as willingly give cure as know. + + Enter Romeo. + + Ben. See, where he comes. So please you step aside, + I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. + Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay + To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away, + Exeunt [Montague and Wife]. + Ben. Good morrow, cousin. + Rom. Is the day so young? + Ben. But new struck nine. + Rom. Ay me! sad hours seem long. + Was that my father that went hence so fast? + Ben. It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? + Rom. Not having that which having makes them short. + Ben. In love? + Rom. Out- + Ben. Of love? + Rom. Out of her favour where I am in love. + Ben. Alas that love, so gentle in his view, + Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! + Rom. Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, + Should without eyes see pathways to his will! + Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? + Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. + Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. + Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! + O anything, of nothing first create! + O heavy lightness! serious vanity! + Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! + Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! + Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is + This love feel I, that feel no love in this. + Dost thou not laugh? + Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. + Rom. Good heart, at what? + Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. + Rom. Why, such is love's transgression. + Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, + Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest + With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown + Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. + Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; + Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; + Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears. + What is it else? A madness most discreet, + A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. + Farewell, my coz. + Ben. Soft! I will go along. + An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. + Rom. Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here: + This is not Romeo, he's some other where. + Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love? + Rom. What, shall I groan and tell thee? + Ben. Groan? Why, no; + But sadly tell me who. + Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will. + Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill! + In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. + Ben. I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd. + Rom. A right good markman! And she's fair I love. + Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. + Rom. Well, in that hit you miss. She'll not be hit + With Cupid's arrow. She hath Dian's wit, + And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, + From Love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. + She will not stay the siege of loving terms, + Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, + Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. + O, she's rich in beauty; only poor + That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. + Ben. Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? + Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; + For beauty, starv'd with her severity, + Cuts beauty off from all posterity. + She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, + To merit bliss by making me despair. + She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow + Do I live dead that live to tell it now. + Ben. Be rul'd by me: forget to think of her. + Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think! + Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes. + Examine other beauties. + Rom. 'Tis the way + To call hers (exquisite) in question more. + These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, + Being black puts us in mind they hide the fair. + He that is strucken blind cannot forget + The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. + Show me a mistress that is passing fair, + What doth her beauty serve but as a note + Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? + Farewell. Thou canst not teach me to forget. + Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +A Street. + +Enter Capulet, County Paris, and [Servant] -the Clown. + + Cap. But Montague is bound as well as I, + In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, + For men so old as we to keep the peace. + Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both, + And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds so long. + But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? + Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: + My child is yet a stranger in the world, + She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; + Let two more summers wither in their pride + Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. + Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. + Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. + The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she; + She is the hopeful lady of my earth. + But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart; + My will to her consent is but a part. + An she agree, within her scope of choice + Lies my consent and fair according voice. + This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, + Whereto I have invited many a guest, + Such as I love; and you among the store, + One more, most welcome, makes my number more. + At my poor house look to behold this night + Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light. + Such comfort as do lusty young men feel + When well apparell'd April on the heel + Of limping Winter treads, even such delight + Among fresh female buds shall you this night + Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, + And like her most whose merit most shall be; + Which, on more view of many, mine, being one, + May stand in number, though in reck'ning none. + Come, go with me. [To Servant, giving him a paper] Go, sirrah, + trudge about + Through fair Verona; find those persons out + Whose names are written there, and to them say, + My house and welcome on their pleasure stay- + Exeunt [Capulet and Paris]. + Serv. Find them out whose names are written here? It is written + that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor + with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter with + his nets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are + here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath + here writ. I must to the learned. In good time! + + Enter Benvolio and Romeo. + + Ben. Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning; + One pain is lessoned by another's anguish; + Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; + One desperate grief cures with another's languish. + Take thou some new infection to thy eye, + And the rank poison of the old will die. + Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. + Ben. For what, I pray thee? + Rom. For your broken shin. + Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? + Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is; + Shut up in Prison, kept without my food, + Whipp'd and tormented and- God-den, good fellow. + Serv. God gi' go-den. I pray, sir, can you read? + Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. + Serv. Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can you + read anything you see? + Rom. Ay, If I know the letters and the language. + Serv. Ye say honestly. Rest you merry! + Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. He reads. + + 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; + County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters; + The lady widow of Vitruvio; + Signior Placentio and His lovely nieces; + Mercutio and his brother Valentine; + Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; + My fair niece Rosaline and Livia; + Signior Valentio and His cousin Tybalt; + Lucio and the lively Helena.' + + [Gives back the paper.] A fair assembly. Whither should they come? + Serv. Up. + Rom. Whither? + Serv. To supper, to our house. + Rom. Whose house? + Serv. My master's. + Rom. Indeed I should have ask'd you that before. + Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich + Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come + and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry! Exit. + Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's + Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st; + With all the admired beauties of Verona. + Go thither, and with unattainted eye + Compare her face with some that I shall show, + And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. + Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye + Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; + And these, who, often drown'd, could never die, + Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! + One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun + Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. + Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, + Herself pois'd with herself in either eye; + But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd + Your lady's love against some other maid + That I will show you shining at this feast, + And she shall scant show well that now seems best. + Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, + But to rejoice in splendour of my own. [Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene III. +Capulet's house. + +Enter Capulet's Wife, and Nurse. + + Wife. Nurse, where's my daughter? Call her forth to me. + Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old, + I bade her come. What, lamb! what ladybird! + God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet! + + Enter Juliet. + + Jul. How now? Who calls? + Nurse. Your mother. + Jul. Madam, I am here. + What is your will? + Wife. This is the matter- Nurse, give leave awhile, + We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back again; + I have rememb'red me, thou's hear our counsel. + Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age. + Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. + Wife. She's not fourteen. + Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth- + And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four- + She is not fourteen. How long is it now + To Lammastide? + Wife. A fortnight and odd days. + Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, + Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. + Susan and she (God rest all Christian souls!) + Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God; + She was too good for me. But, as I said, + On Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen; + That shall she, marry; I remember it well. + 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; + And she was wean'd (I never shall forget it), + Of all the days of the year, upon that day; + For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, + Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall. + My lord and you were then at Mantua. + Nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I said, + When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple + Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, + To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! + Shake, quoth the dovehouse! 'Twas no need, I trow, + To bid me trudge. + And since that time it is eleven years, + For then she could stand high-lone; nay, by th' rood, + She could have run and waddled all about; + For even the day before, she broke her brow; + And then my husband (God be with his soul! + 'A was a merry man) took up the child. + 'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? + Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; + Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidam, + The pretty wretch left crying, and said 'Ay.' + To see now how a jest shall come about! + I warrant, an I should live a thousand yeas, + I never should forget it. 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he, + And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said 'Ay.' + Wife. Enough of this. I pray thee hold thy peace. + Nurse. Yes, madam. Yet I cannot choose but laugh + To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.' + And yet, I warrant, it bad upon it brow + A bump as big as a young cock'rel's stone; + A perilous knock; and it cried bitterly. + 'Yea,' quoth my husband, 'fall'st upon thy face? + Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; + Wilt thou not, Jule?' It stinted, and said 'Ay.' + Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. + Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! + Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd. + An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. + Wife. Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme + I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, + How stands your disposition to be married? + Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. + Nurse. An honour? Were not I thine only nurse, + I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. + Wife. Well, think of marriage now. Younger than you, + Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, + Are made already mothers. By my count, + I was your mother much upon these years + That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: + The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. + Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man + As all the world- why he's a man of wax. + Wife. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. + Nurse. Nay, he's a flower, in faith- a very flower. + Wife. What say you? Can you love the gentleman? + This night you shall behold him at our feast. + Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, + And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; + Examine every married lineament, + And see how one another lends content; + And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies + Find written in the margent of his eyes, + This precious book of love, this unbound lover, + To beautify him only lacks a cover. + The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride + For fair without the fair within to hide. + That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, + That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; + So shall you share all that he doth possess, + By having him making yourself no less. + Nurse. No less? Nay, bigger! Women grow by men + Wife. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? + Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move; + But no more deep will I endart mine eye + Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. + + Enter Servingman. + + Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper serv'd up, you call'd, my + young lady ask'd for, the nurse curs'd in the pantry, and + everything in extremity. I must hence to wait. I beseech you + follow straight. + Wife. We follow thee. Exit [Servingman]. + Juliet, the County stays. + Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +A street. + +Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six other Maskers; Torchbearers. + + Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? + Or shall we on without apology? + Ben. The date is out of such prolixity. + We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, + Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, + Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper; + Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke + After the prompter, for our entrance; + But, let them measure us by what they will, + We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. + Rom. Give me a torch. I am not for this ambling. + Being but heavy, I will bear the light. + Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. + Rom. Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes + With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead + So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. + Mer. You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings + And soar with them above a common bound. + Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft + To soar with his light feathers; and so bound + I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe. + Under love's heavy burthen do I sink. + Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burthen love- + Too great oppression for a tender thing. + Rom. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, + Too rude, too boist'rous, and it pricks like thorn. + Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love. + Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. + Give me a case to put my visage in. + A visor for a visor! What care I + What curious eye doth quote deformities? + Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. + Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in + But every man betake him to his legs. + Rom. A torch for me! Let wantons light of heart + Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; + For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, + I'll be a candle-holder and look on; + The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. + Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word! + If thou art Dun, we'll draw thee from the mire + Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st + Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! + Rom. Nay, that's not so. + Mer. I mean, sir, in delay + We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. + Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits + Five times in that ere once in our five wits. + Rom. And we mean well, in going to this masque; + But 'tis no wit to go. + Mer. Why, may one ask? + Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night. + Mer. And so did I. + Rom. Well, what was yours? + Mer. That dreamers often lie. + Rom. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. + Mer. O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. + She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes + In shape no bigger than an agate stone + On the forefinger of an alderman, + Drawn with a team of little atomies + Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; + Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs, + The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; + Her traces, of the smallest spider's web; + Her collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams; + Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; + Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat, + Not half so big as a round little worm + Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; + Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, + Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, + Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. + And in this state she 'gallops night by night + Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; + O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on cursies straight; + O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; + O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, + Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, + Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. + Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, + And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; + And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail + Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, + Then dreams he of another benefice. + Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, + And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, + Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, + Of healths five fadom deep; and then anon + Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, + And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two + And sleeps again. This is that very Mab + That plats the manes of horses in the night + And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish, hairs, + Which once untangled much misfortune bodes + This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, + That presses them and learns them first to bear, + Making them women of good carriage. + This is she- + Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! + Thou talk'st of nothing. + Mer. True, I talk of dreams; + Which are the children of an idle brain, + Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; + Which is as thin of substance as the air, + And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes + Even now the frozen bosom of the North + And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, + Turning his face to the dew-dropping South. + Ben. This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves. + Supper is done, and we shall come too late. + Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind misgives + Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, + Shall bitterly begin his fearful date + With this night's revels and expire the term + Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast, + By some vile forfeit of untimely death. + But he that hath the steerage of my course + Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen! + Ben. Strike, drum. + They march about the stage. [Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene V. +Capulet's house. + +Servingmen come forth with napkins. + + 1. Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? + He shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher! + 2. Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, + and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing. + 1. Serv. Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cubbert, look + to the plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane and, as + thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. + Anthony, and Potpan! + 2. Serv. Ay, boy, ready. + 1. Serv. You are look'd for and call'd for, ask'd for and sought + for, in the great chamber. + 3. Serv. We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys! + Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. Exeunt. + + Enter the Maskers, Enter, [with Servants,] Capulet, his Wife, + Juliet, Tybalt, and all the Guests + and Gentlewomen to the Maskers. + + Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! Ladies that have their toes + Unplagu'd with corns will have a bout with you. + Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all + Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, + She I'll swear hath corns. Am I come near ye now? + Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day + That I have worn a visor and could tell + A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, + Such as would please. 'Tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone! + You are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play. + A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. + Music plays, and they dance. + More light, you knaves! and turn the tables up, + And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. + Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. + Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet, + For you and I are past our dancing days. + How long is't now since last yourself and I + Were in a mask? + 2. Cap. By'r Lady, thirty years. + Cap. What, man? 'Tis not so much, 'tis not so much! + 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, + Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, + Some five-and-twenty years, and then we mask'd. + 2. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more! His son is elder, sir; + His son is thirty. + Cap. Will you tell me that? + His son was but a ward two years ago. + Rom. [to a Servingman] What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand + Of yonder knight? + Serv. I know not, sir. + Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! + It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night + Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear- + Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! + So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows + As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. + The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand + And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. + Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! + For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. + Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague. + Fetch me my rapier, boy. What, dares the slave + Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, + To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? + Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, + To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. + Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so? + Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; + A villain, that is hither come in spite + To scorn at our solemnity this night. + Cap. Young Romeo is it? + Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. + Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone. + 'A bears him like a portly gentleman, + And, to say truth, Verona brags of him + To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth. + I would not for the wealth of all this town + Here in my house do him disparagement. + Therefore be patient, take no note of him. + It is my will; the which if thou respect, + Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, + An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. + Tyb. It fits when such a villain is a guest. + I'll not endure him. + Cap. He shall be endur'd. + What, goodman boy? I say he shall. Go to! + Am I the master here, or you? Go to! + You'll not endure him? God shall mend my soul! + You'll make a mutiny among my guests! + You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! + Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. + Cap. Go to, go to! + You are a saucy boy. Is't so, indeed? + This trick may chance to scathe you. I know what. + You must contrary me! Marry, 'tis time.- + Well said, my hearts!- You are a princox- go! + Be quiet, or- More light, more light!- For shame! + I'll make you quiet; what!- Cheerly, my hearts! + Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting + Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. + I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall, + Now seeming sweet, convert to bitt'rest gall. Exit. + Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand + This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: + My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand + To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. + Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, + Which mannerly devotion shows in this; + For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, + And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. + Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? + Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray'r. + Rom. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do! + They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. + Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. + Rom. Then move not while my prayer's effect I take. + Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd. [Kisses her.] + Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. + Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd! + Give me my sin again. [Kisses her.] + Jul. You kiss by th' book. + Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. + Rom. What is her mother? + Nurse. Marry, bachelor, + Her mother is the lady of the house. + And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous. + I nurs'd her daughter that you talk'd withal. + I tell you, he that can lay hold of her + Shall have the chinks. + Rom. Is she a Capulet? + O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. + Ben. Away, be gone; the sport is at the best. + Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. + Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; + We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. + Is it e'en so? Why then, I thank you all. + I thank you, honest gentlemen. Good night. + More torches here! [Exeunt Maskers.] Come on then, let's to bed. + Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late; + I'll to my rest. + Exeunt [all but Juliet and Nurse]. + Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? + Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. + Jul. What's he that now is going out of door? + Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. + Jul. What's he that follows there, that would not dance? + Nurse. I know not. + Jul. Go ask his name.- If he be married, + My grave is like to be my wedding bed. + Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague, + The only son of your great enemy. + Jul. My only love, sprung from my only hate! + Too early seen unknown, and known too late! + Prodigious birth of love it is to me + That I must love a loathed enemy. + Nurse. What's this? what's this? + Jul. A rhyme I learnt even now + Of one I danc'd withal. + One calls within, 'Juliet.' + Nurse. Anon, anon! + Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +PROLOGUE + +Enter Chorus. + + Chor. Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, + And young affection gapes to be his heir; + That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, + With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. + Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again, + Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; + But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, + And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks. + Being held a foe, he may not have access + To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear, + And she as much in love, her means much less + To meet her new beloved anywhere; + But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, + Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. +Exit. + + + + +ACT II. Scene I. +A lane by the wall of Capulet's orchard. + +Enter Romeo alone. + + Rom. Can I go forward when my heart is here? + Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. + [Climbs the wall and leaps down within it.] + + Enter Benvolio with Mercutio. + + Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo! Romeo! + Mer. He is wise, + And, on my life, hath stol'n him home to bed. + Ben. He ran this way, and leapt this orchard wall. + Call, good Mercutio. + Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too. + Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! + Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh; + Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied! + Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove'; + Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, + One nickname for her purblind son and heir, + Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim + When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar maid! + He heareth not, he stirreth not, be moveth not; + The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. + I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes. + By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, + By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, + And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, + That in thy likeness thou appear to us! + Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. + Mer. This cannot anger him. 'Twould anger him + To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle + Of some strange nature, letting it there stand + Till she had laid it and conjur'd it down. + That were some spite; my invocation + Is fair and honest: in his mistress' name, + I conjure only but to raise up him. + Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees + To be consorted with the humorous night. + Blind is his love and best befits the dark. + Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. + Now will he sit under a medlar tree + And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit + As maids call medlars when they laugh alone. + O, Romeo, that she were, O that she were + An open et cetera, thou a pop'rin pear! + Romeo, good night. I'll to my truckle-bed; + This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep. + Come, shall we go? + Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vain + 'To seek him here that means not to be found. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Capulet's orchard. + +Enter Romeo. + + Rom. He jests at scars that never felt a wound. + + Enter Juliet above at a window. + + But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? + It is the East, and Juliet is the sun! + Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, + Who is already sick and pale with grief + That thou her maid art far more fair than she. + Be not her maid, since she is envious. + Her vestal livery is but sick and green, + And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off. + It is my lady; O, it is my love! + O that she knew she were! + She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? + Her eye discourses; I will answer it. + I am too bold; 'tis not to me she speaks. + Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, + Having some business, do entreat her eyes + To twinkle in their spheres till they return. + What if her eyes were there, they in her head? + The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars + As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven + Would through the airy region stream so bright + That birds would sing and think it were not night. + See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! + O that I were a glove upon that hand, + That I might touch that cheek! + Jul. Ay me! + Rom. She speaks. + O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art + As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, + As is a winged messenger of heaven + Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes + Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him + When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds + And sails upon the bosom of the air. + Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? + Deny thy father and refuse thy name! + Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, + And I'll no longer be a Capulet. + Rom. [aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? + Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy. + Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. + What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, + Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part + Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! + What's in a name? That which we call a rose + By any other name would smell as sweet. + So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, + Retain that dear perfection which he owes + Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name; + And for that name, which is no part of thee, + Take all myself. + Rom. I take thee at thy word. + Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; + Henceforth I never will be Romeo. + Jul. What man art thou that, thus bescreen'd in night, + So stumblest on my counsel? + Rom. By a name + I know not how to tell thee who I am. + My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, + Because it is an enemy to thee. + Had I it written, I would tear the word. + Jul. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words + Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound. + Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? + Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. + Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? + The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, + And the place death, considering who thou art, + If any of my kinsmen find thee here. + Rom. With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; + For stony limits cannot hold love out, + And what love can do, that dares love attempt. + Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. + Jul. If they do see thee, they will murther thee. + Rom. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye + Than twenty of their swords! Look thou but sweet, + And I am proof against their enmity. + Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. + Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; + And but thou love me, let them find me here. + My life were better ended by their hate + Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. + Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? + Rom. By love, that first did prompt me to enquire. + He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. + I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far + As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, + I would adventure for such merchandise. + Jul. Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face; + Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek + For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. + Fain would I dwell on form- fain, fain deny + What I have spoke; but farewell compliment! + Dost thou love me, I know thou wilt say 'Ay'; + And I will take thy word. Yet, if thou swear'st, + Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries, + They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, + If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. + Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, + I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, + So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. + In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, + And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light; + But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true + Than those that have more cunning to be strange. + I should have been more strange, I must confess, + But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, + My true-love passion. Therefore pardon me, + And not impute this yielding to light love, + Which the dark night hath so discovered. + Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, + That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops- + Jul. O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon, + That monthly changes in her circled orb, + Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. + Rom. What shall I swear by? + Jul. Do not swear at all; + Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, + Which is the god of my idolatry, + And I'll believe thee. + Rom. If my heart's dear love- + Jul. Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, + I have no joy of this contract to-night. + It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden; + Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be + Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! + This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, + May prove a beauteous flow'r when next we meet. + Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest + Come to thy heart as that within my breast! + Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? + Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? + Rom. Th' exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. + Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; + And yet I would it were to give again. + Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love? + Jul. But to be frank and give it thee again. + And yet I wish but for the thing I have. + My bounty is as boundless as the sea, + My love as deep; the more I give to thee, + The more I have, for both are infinite. + I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu! + [Nurse] calls within. + Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. + Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit.] + Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, + Being in night, all this is but a dream, + Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. + + Enter Juliet above. + + Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. + If that thy bent of love be honourable, + Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, + By one that I'll procure to come to thee, + Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; + And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay + And follow thee my lord throughout the world. + Nurse. (within) Madam! + Jul. I come, anon.- But if thou meanest not well, + I do beseech thee- + Nurse. (within) Madam! + Jul. By-and-by I come.- + To cease thy suit and leave me to my grief. + To-morrow will I send. + Rom. So thrive my soul- + Jul. A thousand times good night! Exit. + Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light! + Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books; + But love from love, towards school with heavy looks. + + Enter Juliet again, [above]. + + Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falconer's voice + To lure this tassel-gentle back again! + Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud; + Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, + And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine + With repetition of my Romeo's name. + Romeo! + Rom. It is my soul that calls upon my name. + How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, + Like softest music to attending ears! + Jul. Romeo! + Rom. My dear? + Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow + Shall I send to thee? + Rom. By the hour of nine. + Jul. I will not fail. 'Tis twenty years till then. + I have forgot why I did call thee back. + Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. + Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, + Rememb'ring how I love thy company. + Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, + Forgetting any other home but this. + Jul. 'Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone- + And yet no farther than a wanton's bird, + That lets it hop a little from her hand, + Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, + And with a silk thread plucks it back again, + So loving-jealous of his liberty. + Rom. I would I were thy bird. + Jul. Sweet, so would I. + Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. + Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, + That I shall say good night till it be morrow. + [Exit.] + Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! + Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! + Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, + His help to crave and my dear hap to tell. + Exit + + + + +Scene III. +Friar Laurence's cell. + +Enter Friar, [Laurence] alone, with a basket. + + Friar. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, + Check'ring the Eastern clouds with streaks of light; + And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels + From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels. + Non, ere the sun advance his burning eye + The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, + I must up-fill this osier cage of ours + With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. + The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb. + What is her burying gave, that is her womb; + And from her womb children of divers kind + We sucking on her natural bosom find; + Many for many virtues excellent, + None but for some, and yet all different. + O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies + In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities; + For naught so vile that on the earth doth live + But to the earth some special good doth give; + Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use, + Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. + Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, + And vice sometime's by action dignified. + Within the infant rind of this small flower + Poison hath residence, and medicine power; + For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; + Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. + Two such opposed kings encamp them still + In man as well as herbs- grace and rude will; + And where the worser is predominant, + Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. + + Enter Romeo. + + Rom. Good morrow, father. + Friar. Benedicite! + What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? + Young son, it argues a distempered head + So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed. + Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, + And where care lodges sleep will never lie; + But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain + Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. + Therefore thy earliness doth me assure + Thou art uprous'd with some distemp'rature; + Or if not so, then here I hit it right- + Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. + Rom. That last is true-the sweeter rest was mine. + Friar. God pardon sin! Wast thou with Rosaline? + Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No. + I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. + Friar. That's my good son! But where hast thou been then? + Rom. I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again. + I have been feasting with mine enemy, + Where on a sudden one hath wounded me + That's by me wounded. Both our remedies + Within thy help and holy physic lies. + I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, + My intercession likewise steads my foe. + Friar. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift + Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. + Rom. Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set + On the fair daughter of rich Capulet; + As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine, + And all combin'd, save what thou must combine + By holy marriage. When, and where, and how + We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, + I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, + That thou consent to marry us to-day. + Friar. Holy Saint Francis! What a change is here! + Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, + So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies + Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. + Jesu Maria! What a deal of brine + Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! + How much salt water thrown away in waste, + To season love, that of it doth not taste! + The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, + Thy old groans ring yet in mine ancient ears. + Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit + Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet. + If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, + Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline. + And art thou chang'd? Pronounce this sentence then: + Women may fall when there's no strength in men. + Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. + Friar. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. + Rom. And bad'st me bury love. + Friar. Not in a grave + To lay one in, another out to have. + Rom. I pray thee chide not. She whom I love now + Doth grace for grace and love for love allow. + The other did not so. + Friar. O, she knew well + Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell. + But come, young waverer, come go with me. + In one respect I'll thy assistant be; + For this alliance may so happy prove + To turn your households' rancour to pure love. + Rom. O, let us hence! I stand on sudden haste. + Friar. Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +A street. + +Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. + + Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be? + Came he not home to-night? + Ben. Not to his father's. I spoke with his man. + Mer. Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, + Torments him so that he will sure run mad. + Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, + Hath sent a letter to his father's house. + Mer. A challenge, on my life. + Ben. Romeo will answer it. + Mer. Any man that can write may answer a letter. + Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being + dared. + Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabb'd with a white + wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love song; the + very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; + and is he a man to encounter Tybalt? + Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? + Mer. More than Prince of Cats, I can tell you. O, he's the + courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing + pricksong-keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his + minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom! the very + butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist! a gentleman of + the very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah, the + immortal passado! the punto reverse! the hay. + Ben. The what? + Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes- these + new tuners of accent! 'By Jesu, a very good blade! a very tall + man! a very good whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing, + grandsir, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange + flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardona-mi's, who stand so + much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old + bench? O, their bones, their bones! + + Enter Romeo. + + Ben. Here comes Romeo! here comes Romeo! + Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art + thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed + in. Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen wench (marry, she had a + better love to berhyme her), Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a gypsy, + Helen and Hero hildings and harlots, This be a gray eye or so, + but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! There's a French + salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit + fairly last night. + Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? + Mer. The slip, sir, the slip. Can you not conceive? + Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio. My business was great, and in such a + case as mine a man may strain courtesy. + Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a + man to bow in the hams. + Rom. Meaning, to cursy. + Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. + Rom. A most courteous exposition. + Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. + Rom. Pink for flower. + Mer. Right. + Rom. Why, then is my pump well-flower'd. + Mer. Well said! Follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out thy + pump, that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may + remain, after the wearing, solely singular. + Rom. O single-sold jest, solely singular for the singleness! + Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio! My wits faint. + Rom. Swits and spurs, swits and spurs! or I'll cry a match. + Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done; for thou + hast more of the wild goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I + have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goose? + Rom. Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not there + for the goose. + Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. + Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not! + Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce. + Rom. And is it not, then, well serv'd in to a sweet goose? + Mer. O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch + narrow to an ell broad! + Rom. I stretch it out for that word 'broad,' which, added to the + goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose. + Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? Now art + thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by + art as well as by nature. For this drivelling love is like a + great natural that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in + a hole. + Ben. Stop there, stop there! + Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. + Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. + Mer. O, thou art deceiv'd! I would have made it short; for I was + come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupy + the argument no longer. + Rom. Here's goodly gear! + + Enter Nurse and her Man [Peter]. + + Mer. A sail, a sail! + Ben. Two, two! a shirt and a smock. + Nurse. Peter! + Peter. Anon. + Nurse. My fan, Peter. + Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face of + the two. + Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. + Mer. God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman. + Nurse. Is it good-den? + Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now + upon the prick of noon. + Nurse. Out upon you! What a man are you! + Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar. + Nurse. By my troth, it is well said. 'For himself to mar,' quoth + 'a? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young + Romeo? + Rom. I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when you have + found him than he was when you sought him. I am the youngest of + that name, for fault of a worse. + Nurse. You say well. + Mer. Yea, is the worst well? Very well took, i' faith! wisely, + wisely. + Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you. + Ben. She will endite him to some supper. + Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho! + Rom. What hast thou found? + Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is + something stale and hoar ere it be spent + He walks by them and sings. + + An old hare hoar, + And an old hare hoar, + Is very good meat in Lent; + But a hare that is hoar + Is too much for a score + When it hoars ere it be spent. + + Romeo, will you come to your father's? We'll to dinner thither. + Rom. I will follow you. + Mer. Farewell, ancient lady. Farewell, + [sings] lady, lady, lady. + Exeunt Mercutio, Benvolio. + Nurse. Marry, farewell! I Pray you, Sir, what saucy merchant was + this that was so full of his ropery? + Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk and will + speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month. + Nurse. An 'a speak anything against me, I'll take him down, an 'a + were lustier than he is, and twenty such jacks; and if I cannot, + I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his + flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand + by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure! + Peter. I saw no man use you at his pleasure. If I had, my weapon + should quickly have been out, I warrant you. I dare draw as soon + as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law + on my side. + Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me + quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word; and, as I told you, + my young lady bid me enquire you out. What she bid me say, I will + keep to myself; but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her + into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of + behaviour, as they say; for the gentlewoman is young; and + therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an + ill thing to be off'red to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing. + Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto + thee- + Nurse. Good heart, and I faith I will tell her as much. Lord, + Lord! she will be a joyful woman. + Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? Thou dost not mark me. + Nurse. I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I take + it, is a gentlemanlike offer. + Rom. Bid her devise + Some means to come to shrift this afternoon; + And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell + Be shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains. + Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny. + Rom. Go to! I say you shall. + Nurse. This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be there. + Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall. + Within this hour my man shall be with thee + And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair, + Which to the high topgallant of my joy + Must be my convoy in the secret night. + Farewell. Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains. + Farewell. Commend me to thy mistress. + Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir. + Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse? + Nurse. Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say, + Two may keep counsel, putting one away? + Rom. I warrant thee my man's as true as steel. + Nurse. Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady. Lord, Lord! + when 'twas a little prating thing- O, there is a nobleman in + town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good + soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger + her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but + I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout + in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with + a letter? + Rom. Ay, nurse; what of that? Both with an R. + Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for the- No; I know + it begins with some other letter; and she hath the prettiest + sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good + to hear it. + Rom. Commend me to thy lady. + Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. [Exit Romeo.] Peter! + Peter. Anon. + Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before, and apace. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene V. +Capulet's orchard. + +Enter Juliet. + + Jul. The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; + In half an hour she 'promis'd to return. + Perchance she cannot meet him. That's not so. + O, she is lame! Love's heralds should be thoughts, + Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams + Driving back shadows over low'ring hills. + Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love, + And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. + Now is the sun upon the highmost hill + Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve + Is three long hours; yet she is not come. + Had she affections and warm youthful blood, + She would be as swift in motion as a ball; + My words would bandy her to my sweet love, + And his to me, + But old folks, many feign as they were dead- + Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. + + Enter Nurse [and Peter]. + + O God, she comes! O honey nurse, what news? + Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. + Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. + [Exit Peter.] + Jul. Now, good sweet nurse- O Lord, why look'st thou sad? + Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; + If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news + By playing it to me with so sour a face. + Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave awhile. + Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunce have I had! + Jul. I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news. + Nay, come, I pray thee speak. Good, good nurse, speak. + Nurse. Jesu, what haste! Can you not stay awhile? + Do you not see that I am out of breath? + Jul. How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath + To say to me that thou art out of breath? + The excuse that thou dost make in this delay + Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. + Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that. + Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance. + Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad? + Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to + choose a man. Romeo? No, not he. Though his face be better than + any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand and a + foot, and a body, though they be not to be talk'd on, yet they + are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll + warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve God. + What, have you din'd at home? + Jul. No, no. But all this did I know before. + What says he of our marriage? What of that? + Nurse. Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I! + It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. + My back o' t' other side,- ah, my back, my back! + Beshrew your heart for sending me about + To catch my death with jauncing up and down! + Jul. I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. + Sweet, sweet, Sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love? + Nurse. Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, + and a kind, and a handsome; and, I warrant, a virtuous- Where is + your mother? + Jul. Where is my mother? Why, she is within. + Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! + 'Your love says, like an honest gentleman, + "Where is your mother?"' + Nurse. O God's Lady dear! + Are you so hot? Marry come up, I trow. + Is this the poultice for my aching bones? + Henceforward do your messages yourself. + Jul. Here's such a coil! Come, what says Romeo? + Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day? + Jul. I have. + Nurse. Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell; + There stays a husband to make you a wife. + Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks: + They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. + Hie you to church; I must another way, + To fetch a ladder, by the which your love + Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark. + I am the drudge, and toil in your delight; + But you shall bear the burthen soon at night. + Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell. + Jul. Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene VI. +Friar Laurence's cell. + +Enter Friar [Laurence] and Romeo. + + Friar. So smile the heavens upon this holy act + That after-hours with sorrow chide us not! + Rom. Amen, amen! But come what sorrow can, + It cannot countervail the exchange of joy + That one short minute gives me in her sight. + Do thou but close our hands with holy words, + Then love-devouring death do what he dare- + It is enough I may but call her mine. + Friar. These violent delights have violent ends + And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, + Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey + Is loathsome in his own deliciousness + And in the taste confounds the appetite. + Therefore love moderately: long love doth so; + Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. + + Enter Juliet. + + Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot + Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint. + A lover may bestride the gossamer + That idles in the wanton summer air, + And yet not fall; so light is vanity. + Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor. + Friar. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. + Jul. As much to him, else is his thanks too much. + Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy + Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more + To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath + This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue + Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both + Receive in either by this dear encounter. + Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, + Brags of his substance, not of ornament. + They are but beggars that can count their worth; + But my true love is grown to such excess + cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. + Friar. Come, come with me, and we will make short work; + For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone + Till Holy Church incorporate two in one. + [Exeunt.] + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. Scene I. +A public place. + +Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Men. + + Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire. + The day is hot, the Capulets abroad. + And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl, + For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. + Mer. Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the + confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says + 'God send me no need of thee!' and by the operation of the second + cup draws him on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. + Ben. Am I like such a fellow? + Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a jack in thy mood as any in + Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be + moved. + Ben. And what to? + Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for + one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man + that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast. + Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other + reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an eye + would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as + an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as + addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrell'd with a man + for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that + hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a + tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter, with another + for tying his new shoes with an old riband? And yet thou wilt + tutor me from quarrelling! + Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy + the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. + Mer. The fee simple? O simple! + + Enter Tybalt and others. + + Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. + Mer. By my heel, I care not. + Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them. + Gentlemen, good den. A word with one of you. + Mer. And but one word with one of us? + Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow. + Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me + occasion. + Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving + Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo. + Mer. Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make + minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here's my + fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort! + Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men. + Either withdraw unto some private place + And reason coldly of your grievances, + Or else depart. Here all eyes gaze on us. + Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. + I will not budge for no man's pleasure, + + Enter Romeo. + + Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man. + Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery. + Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower! + Your worship in that sense may call him man. + Tyb. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford + No better term than this: thou art a villain. + Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee + Doth much excuse the appertaining rage + To such a greeting. Villain am I none. + Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not. + Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries + That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw. + Rom. I do protest I never injur'd thee, + But love thee better than thou canst devise + Till thou shalt know the reason of my love; + And so good Capulet, which name I tender + As dearly as mine own, be satisfied. + Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! + Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws.] + Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk? + Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me? + Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives. That I + mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, + dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of + his pitcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears + ere it be out. + Tyb. I am for you. [Draws.] + Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. + Mer. Come, sir, your passado! + [They fight.] + Rom. Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. + Gentlemen, for shame! forbear this outrage! + Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath + Forbid this bandying in Verona streets. + Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio! + Tybalt under Romeo's arm thrusts Mercutio in, and flies + [with his Followers]. + Mer. I am hurt. + A plague o' both your houses! I am sped. + Is he gone and hath nothing? + Ben. What, art thou hurt? + Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, 'tis enough. + Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. + [Exit Page.] + Rom. Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much. + Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; + but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Ask for me to-morrow, and you + shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this + world. A plague o' both your houses! Zounds, a dog, a rat, a + mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a + villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil + came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. + Rom. I thought all for the best. + Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, + Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! + They have made worms' meat of me. I have it, + And soundly too. Your houses! + [Exit. [supported by Benvolio]. + Rom. This gentleman, the Prince's near ally, + My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt + In my behalf- my reputation stain'd + With Tybalt's slander- Tybalt, that an hour + Hath been my kinsman. O sweet Juliet, + Thy beauty hath made me effeminate + And in my temper soft'ned valour's steel + + Enter Benvolio. + + Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! + That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, + Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. + Rom. This day's black fate on moe days doth depend; + This but begins the woe others must end. + + Enter Tybalt. + + Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. + Rom. Alive in triumph, and Mercutio slain? + Away to heaven respective lenity, + And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now! + Now, Tybalt, take the 'villain' back again + That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul + Is but a little way above our heads, + Staying for thine to keep him company. + Either thou or I, or both, must go with him. + Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, + Shalt with him hence. + Rom. This shall determine that. + They fight. Tybalt falls. + Ben. Romeo, away, be gone! + The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. + Stand not amaz'd. The Prince will doom thee death + If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away! + Rom. O, I am fortune's fool! + Ben. Why dost thou stay? + Exit Romeo. + Enter Citizens. + + Citizen. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? + Tybalt, that murtherer, which way ran he? + Ben. There lies that Tybalt. + Citizen. Up, sir, go with me. + I charge thee in the Prince's name obey. + + Enter Prince [attended], Old Montague, Capulet, their Wives, + and [others]. + + Prince. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? + Ben. O noble Prince. I can discover all + The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl. + There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, + That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. + Cap. Wife. Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child! + O Prince! O husband! O, the blood is spill'd + Of my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, + For blood of ours shed blood of Montague. + O cousin, cousin! + Prince. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? + Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did stay. + Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink + How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal + Your high displeasure. All this- uttered + With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd- + Could not take truce with the unruly spleen + Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts + With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast; + Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, + And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats + Cold death aside and with the other sends + It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity + Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud, + 'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and swifter than his tongue, + His agile arm beats down their fatal points, + And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm + An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life + Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; + But by-and-by comes back to Romeo, + Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, + And to't they go like lightning; for, ere I + Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain; + And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. + This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. + Cap. Wife. He is a kinsman to the Montague; + Affection makes him false, he speaks not true. + Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, + And all those twenty could but kill one life. + I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give. + Romeo slew Tybalt; Romeo must not live. + Prince. Romeo slew him; he slew Mercutio. + Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? + Mon. Not Romeo, Prince; he was Mercutio's friend; + His fault concludes but what the law should end, + The life of Tybalt. + Prince. And for that offence + Immediately we do exile him hence. + I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, + My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; + But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine + That you shall all repent the loss of mine. + I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; + Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses. + Therefore use none. Let Romeo hence in haste, + Else, when he is found, that hour is his last. + Bear hence this body, and attend our will. + Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Capulet's orchard. + +Enter Juliet alone. + + Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, + Towards Phoebus' lodging! Such a wagoner + As Phaeton would whip you to the West + And bring in cloudy night immediately. + Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, + That runaway eyes may wink, and Romeo + Leap to these arms untalk'd of and unseen. + Lovers can see to do their amorous rites + By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, + It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, + Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, + And learn me how to lose a winning match, + Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods. + Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, + With thy black mantle till strange love, grown bold, + Think true love acted simple modesty. + Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; + For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night + Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back. + Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night; + Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, + Take him and cut him out in little stars, + And he will make the face of heaven so fine + That all the world will be in love with night + And pay no worship to the garish sun. + O, I have bought the mansion of a love, + But not possess'd it; and though I am sold, + Not yet enjoy'd. So tedious is this day + As is the night before some festival + To an impatient child that hath new robes + And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, + + Enter Nurse, with cords. + + And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks + But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence. + Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords + That Romeo bid thee fetch? + Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords. + [Throws them down.] + Jul. Ay me! what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands + Nurse. Ah, weraday! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! + We are undone, lady, we are undone! + Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! + Jul. Can heaven be so envious? + Nurse. Romeo can, + Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo! + Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! + Jul. What devil art thou that dost torment me thus? + This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. + Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but 'I,' + And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more + Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice. + I am not I, if there be such an 'I'; + Or those eyes shut that make thee answer 'I.' + If be be slain, say 'I'; or if not, 'no.' + Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. + Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, + (God save the mark!) here on his manly breast. + A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; + Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, + All in gore-blood. I swounded at the sight. + Jul. O, break, my heart! poor bankrout, break at once! + To prison, eyes; ne'er look on liberty! + Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here, + And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! + Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! + O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman + That ever I should live to see thee dead! + Jul. What storm is this that blows so contrary? + Is Romeo slaught'red, and is Tybalt dead? + My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord? + Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! + For who is living, if those two are gone? + Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; + Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. + Jul. O God! Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? + Nurse. It did, it did! alas the day, it did! + Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face! + Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? + Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! + Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! + Despised substance of divinest show! + Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st- + A damned saint, an honourable villain! + O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell + When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend + In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? + Was ever book containing such vile matter + So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell + In such a gorgeous palace! + Nurse. There's no trust, + No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd, + All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. + Ah, where's my man? Give me some aqua vitae. + These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. + Shame come to Romeo! + Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue + For such a wish! He was not born to shame. + Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; + For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd + Sole monarch of the universal earth. + O, what a beast was I to chide at him! + Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin? + Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? + Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name + When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? + But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? + That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband. + Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring! + Your tributary drops belong to woe, + Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. + My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; + And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. + All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? + Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, + That murd'red me. I would forget it fain; + But O, it presses to my memory + Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds! + 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo- banished.' + That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,' + Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death + Was woe enough, if it had ended there; + Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship + And needly will be rank'd with other griefs, + Why followed not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,' + Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, + Which modern lamentation might have mov'd? + But with a rearward following Tybalt's death, + 'Romeo is banished'- to speak that word + Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, + All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished'- + There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, + In that word's death; no words can that woe sound. + Where is my father and my mother, nurse? + Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse. + Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. + Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? Mine shall be spent, + When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. + Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguil'd, + Both you and I, for Romeo is exil'd. + He made you for a highway to my bed; + But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. + Come, cords; come, nurse. I'll to my wedding bed; + And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! + Nurse. Hie to your chamber. I'll find Romeo + To comfort you. I wot well where he is. + Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night. + I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell. + Jul. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight + And bid him come to take his last farewell. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Friar Laurence's cell. + +Enter Friar [Laurence]. + + Friar. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man. + Affliction is enanmour'd of thy parts, + And thou art wedded to calamity. + + Enter Romeo. + + Rom. Father, what news? What is the Prince's doom + What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand + That I yet know not? + Friar. Too familiar + Is my dear son with such sour company. + I bring thee tidings of the Prince's doom. + Rom. What less than doomsday is the Prince's doom? + Friar. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips- + Not body's death, but body's banishment. + Rom. Ha, banishment? Be merciful, say 'death'; + For exile hath more terror in his look, + Much more than death. Do not say 'banishment.' + Friar. Hence from Verona art thou banished. + Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. + Rom. There is no world without Verona walls, + But purgatory, torture, hell itself. + Hence banished is banish'd from the world, + And world's exile is death. Then 'banishment' + Is death misterm'd. Calling death 'banishment,' + Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe + And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. + Friar. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! + Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind Prince, + Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, + And turn'd that black word death to banishment. + This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. + Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here, + Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog + And little mouse, every unworthy thing, + Live here in heaven and may look on her; + But Romeo may not. More validity, + More honourable state, more courtship lives + In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize + On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand + And steal immortal blessing from her lips, + Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, + Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; + But Romeo may not- he is banished. + This may flies do, when I from this must fly; + They are free men, but I am banished. + And sayest thou yet that exile is not death? + Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife, + No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, + But 'banished' to kill me- 'banished'? + O friar, the damned use that word in hell; + Howling attends it! How hast thou the heart, + Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, + A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, + To mangle me with that word 'banished'? + Friar. Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak. + Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. + Friar. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; + Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, + To comfort thee, though thou art banished. + Rom. Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy! + Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, + Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, + It helps not, it prevails not. Talk no more. + Friar. O, then I see that madmen have no ears. + Rom. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes? + Friar. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. + Rom. Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel. + Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, + An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, + Doting like me, and like me banished, + Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, + And fall upon the ground, as I do now, + Taking the measure of an unmade grave. + Knock [within]. + Friar. Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself. + Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, + Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. Knock. + Friar. Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise; + Thou wilt be taken.- Stay awhile!- Stand up; Knock. + Run to my study.- By-and-by!- God's will, + What simpleness is this.- I come, I come! Knock. + Who knocks so hard? Whence come you? What's your will + Nurse. [within] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand. + I come from Lady Juliet. + Friar. Welcome then. + + Enter Nurse. + + Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar + Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo? + Friar. There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. + Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case, + Just in her case! + Friar. O woeful sympathy! + Piteous predicament! + Nurse. Even so lies she, + Blubb'ring and weeping, weeping and blubbering. + Stand up, stand up! Stand, an you be a man. + For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand! + Why should you fall into so deep an O? + Rom. (rises) Nurse- + Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all. + Rom. Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her? + Doth not she think me an old murtherer, + Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy + With blood remov'd but little from her own? + Where is she? and how doth she! and what says + My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love? + Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; + And now falls on her bed, and then starts up, + And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, + And then down falls again. + Rom. As if that name, + Shot from the deadly level of a gun, + Did murther her; as that name's cursed hand + Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me, + In what vile part of this anatomy + Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack + The hateful mansion. [Draws his dagger.] + Friar. Hold thy desperate hand. + Art thou a man? Thy form cries out thou art; + Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote + The unreasonable fury of a beast. + Unseemly woman in a seeming man! + Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! + Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order, + I thought thy disposition better temper'd. + Hast thou slain Tybalt? Wilt thou slay thyself? + And slay thy lady that in thy life lives, + By doing damned hate upon thyself? + Why railest thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth? + Since birth and heaven and earth, all three do meet + In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose. + Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit, + Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, + And usest none in that true use indeed + Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit. + Thy noble shape is but a form of wax + Digressing from the valour of a man; + Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, + Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; + Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, + Misshapen in the conduct of them both, + Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask, + is get afire by thine own ignorance, + And thou dismemb'red with thine own defence. + What, rouse thee, man! Thy Juliet is alive, + For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead. + There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, + But thou slewest Tybalt. There art thou happy too. + The law, that threat'ned death, becomes thy friend + And turns it to exile. There art thou happy. + A pack of blessings light upon thy back; + Happiness courts thee in her best array; + But, like a misbhav'd and sullen wench, + Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love. + Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. + Go get thee to thy love, as was decreed, + Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her. + But look thou stay not till the watch be set, + For then thou canst not pass to Mantua, + Where thou shalt live till we can find a time + To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, + Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back + With twenty hundred thousand times more joy + Than thou went'st forth in lamentation. + Go before, nurse. Commend me to thy lady, + And bid her hasten all the house to bed, + Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto. + Romeo is coming. + Nurse. O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night + To hear good counsel. O, what learning is! + My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come. + Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. + Nurse. Here is a ring she bid me give you, sir. + Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. Exit. + Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this! + Friar. Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state: + Either be gone before the watch be set, + Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence. + Sojourn in Mantua. I'll find out your man, + And he shall signify from time to time + Every good hap to you that chances here. + Give me thy hand. 'Tis late. Farewell; good night. + Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me, + It were a grief so brief to part with thee. + Farewell. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene IV. +Capulet's house + +Enter Old Capulet, his Wife, and Paris. + + Cap. Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily + That we have had no time to move our daughter. + Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, + And so did I. Well, we were born to die. + 'Tis very late; she'll not come down to-night. + I promise you, but for your company, + I would have been abed an hour ago. + Par. These times of woe afford no tune to woo. + Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter. + Lady. I will, and know her mind early to-morrow; + To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness. + Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender + Of my child's love. I think she will be rul'd + In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. + Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; + Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love + And bid her (mark you me?) on Wednesday next- + But, soft! what day is this? + Par. Monday, my lord. + Cap. Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon. + Thursday let it be- a Thursday, tell her + She shall be married to this noble earl. + Will you be ready? Do you like this haste? + We'll keep no great ado- a friend or two; + For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, + It may be thought we held him carelessly, + Being our kinsman, if we revel much. + Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends, + And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? + Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow. + Cap. Well, get you gone. A Thursday be it then. + Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed; + Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day. + Farewell, My lord.- Light to my chamber, ho! + Afore me, It is so very very late + That we may call it early by-and-by. + Good night. + Exeunt + + + + +Scene V. +Capulet's orchard. + +Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft, at the Window. + + Jul. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. + It was the nightingale, and not the lark, + That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear. + Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree. + Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. + Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn; + No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks + Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East. + Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day + Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. + I must be gone and live, or stay and die. + Jul. Yond light is not daylight; I know it, I. + It is some meteor that the sun exhales + To be to thee this night a torchbearer + And light thee on the way to Mantua. + Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone. + Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death. + I am content, so thou wilt have it so. + I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, + 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; + Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat + The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. + I have more care to stay than will to go. + Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. + How is't, my soul? Let's talk; it is not day. + Jul. It is, it is! Hie hence, be gone, away! + It is the lark that sings so out of tune, + Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. + Some say the lark makes sweet division; + This doth not so, for she divideth us. + Some say the lark and loathed toad chang'd eyes; + O, now I would they had chang'd voices too, + Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, + Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day! + O, now be gone! More light and light it grows. + Rom. More light and light- more dark and dark our woes! + + Enter Nurse. + + Nurse. Madam! + Jul. Nurse? + Nurse. Your lady mother is coming to your chamber. + The day is broke; be wary, look about. + Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. + [Exit.] + Rom. Farewell, farewell! One kiss, and I'll descend. + He goeth down. + Jul. Art thou gone so, my lord, my love, my friend? + I must hear from thee every day in the hour, + For in a minute there are many days. + O, by this count I shall be much in years + Ere I again behold my Romeo! + Rom. Farewell! + I will omit no opportunity + That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. + Jul. O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again? + Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve + For sweet discourses in our time to come. + Jul. O God, I have an ill-divining soul! + Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, + As one dead in the bottom of a tomb. + Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. + Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you. + Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! +Exit. + Jul. O Fortune, Fortune! all men call thee fickle. + If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him + That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, Fortune, + For then I hope thou wilt not keep him long + But send him back. + Lady. [within] Ho, daughter! are you up? + Jul. Who is't that calls? It is my lady mother. + Is she not down so late, or up so early? + What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither? + + Enter Mother. + + Lady. Why, how now, Juliet? + Jul. Madam, I am not well. + Lady. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? + What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? + An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live. + Therefore have done. Some grief shows much of love; + But much of grief shows still some want of wit. + Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. + Lady. So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend + Which you weep for. + Jul. Feeling so the loss, + I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. + Lady. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death + As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. + Jul. What villain, madam? + Lady. That same villain Romeo. + Jul. [aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.- + God pardon him! I do, with all my heart; + And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. + Lady. That is because the traitor murderer lives. + Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands. + Would none but I might venge my cousin's death! + Lady. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not. + Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, + Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, + Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram + That he shall soon keep Tybalt company; + And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied. + Jul. Indeed I never shall be satisfied + With Romeo till I behold him- dead- + Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd. + Madam, if you could find out but a man + To bear a poison, I would temper it; + That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, + Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors + To hear him nam'd and cannot come to him, + To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt + Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him! + Lady. Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. + But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. + Jul. And joy comes well in such a needy time. + What are they, I beseech your ladyship? + Lady. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; + One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, + Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy + That thou expects not nor I look'd not for. + Jul. Madam, in happy time! What day is that? + Lady. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn + The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, + The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church, + Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. + Jul. Now by Saint Peter's Church, and Peter too, + He shall not make me there a joyful bride! + I wonder at this haste, that I must wed + Ere he that should be husband comes to woo. + I pray you tell my lord and father, madam, + I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear + It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, + Rather than Paris. These are news indeed! + Lady. Here comes your father. Tell him so yourself, + And see how be will take it at your hands. + + Enter Capulet and Nurse. + + Cap. When the sun sets the air doth drizzle dew, + But for the sunset of my brother's son + It rains downright. + How now? a conduit, girl? What, still in tears? + Evermore show'ring? In one little body + Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind: + For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, + Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is + Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs, + Who, raging with thy tears and they with them, + Without a sudden calm will overset + Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife? + Have you delivered to her our decree? + Lady. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. + I would the fool were married to her grave! + Cap. Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. + How? Will she none? Doth she not give us thanks? + Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest, + Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought + So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? + Jul. Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. + Proud can I never be of what I hate, + But thankful even for hate that is meant love. + Cap. How, how, how, how, choplogic? What is this? + 'Proud'- and 'I thank you'- and 'I thank you not'- + And yet 'not proud'? Mistress minion you, + Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, + But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next + To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, + Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. + Out, you green-sickness carrion I out, you baggage! + You tallow-face! + Lady. Fie, fie! what, are you mad? + Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees, + Hear me with patience but to speak a word. + Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! + I tell thee what- get thee to church a Thursday + Or never after look me in the face. + Speak not, reply not, do not answer me! + My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest + That God had lent us but this only child; + But now I see this one is one too much, + And that we have a curse in having her. + Out on her, hilding! + Nurse. God in heaven bless her! + You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. + Cap. And why, my Lady Wisdom? Hold your tongue, + Good Prudence. Smatter with your gossips, go! + Nurse. I speak no treason. + Cap. O, God-i-god-en! + Nurse. May not one speak? + Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool! + Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, + For here we need it not. + Lady. You are too hot. + Cap. God's bread I it makes me mad. Day, night, late, early, + At home, abroad, alone, in company, + Waking or sleeping, still my care hath been + To have her match'd; and having now provided + A gentleman of princely parentage, + Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, + Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, + Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man- + And then to have a wretched puling fool, + A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, + To answer 'I'll not wed, I cannot love; + I am too young, I pray you pardon me'! + But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you. + Graze where you will, you shall not house with me. + Look to't, think on't; I do not use to jest. + Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: + An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; + An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, + For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, + Nor what is mine shall never do thee good. + Trust to't. Bethink you. I'll not be forsworn. Exit. + Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds + That sees into the bottom of my grief? + O sweet my mother, cast me not away! + Delay this marriage for a month, a week; + Or if you do not, make the bridal bed + In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. + Lady. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word. + Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. Exit. + Jul. O God!- O nurse, how shall this be prevented? + My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven. + How shall that faith return again to earth + Unless that husband send it me from heaven + By leaving earth? Comfort me, counsel me. + Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems + Upon so soft a subject as myself! + What say'st thou? Hast thou not a word of joy? + Some comfort, nurse. + Nurse. Faith, here it is. + Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing + That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you; + Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth. + Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, + I think it best you married with the County. + O, he's a lovely gentleman! + Romeo's a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam, + Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye + As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, + I think you are happy in this second match, + For it excels your first; or if it did not, + Your first is dead- or 'twere as good he were + As living here and you no use of him. + Jul. Speak'st thou this from thy heart? + Nurse. And from my soul too; else beshrew them both. + Jul. Amen! + Nurse. What? + Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. + Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, + Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, + To make confession and to be absolv'd. + Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. Exit. + Jul. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! + Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, + Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue + Which she hath prais'd him with above compare + So many thousand times? Go, counsellor! + Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. + I'll to the friar to know his remedy. + If all else fail, myself have power to die. Exit. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. Scene I. +Friar Laurence's cell. + +Enter Friar, [Laurence] and County Paris. + + Friar. On Thursday, sir? The time is very short. + Par. My father Capulet will have it so, + And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. + Friar. You say you do not know the lady's mind. + Uneven is the course; I like it not. + Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, + And therefore have I little talk'd of love; + For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. + Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous + That she do give her sorrow so much sway, + And in his wisdom hastes our marriage + To stop the inundation of her tears, + Which, too much minded by herself alone, + May be put from her by society. + Now do you know the reason of this haste. + Friar. [aside] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.- + Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell. + + Enter Juliet. + + Par. Happily met, my lady and my wife! + Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. + Par. That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. + Jul. What must be shall be. + Friar. That's a certain text. + Par. Come you to make confession to this father? + Jul. To answer that, I should confess to you. + Par. Do not deny to him that you love me. + Jul. I will confess to you that I love him. + Par. So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. + Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price, + Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. + Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. + Jul. The tears have got small victory by that, + For it was bad enough before their spite. + Par. Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report. + Jul. That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; + And what I spake, I spake it to my face. + Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast sland'red it. + Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own. + Are you at leisure, holy father, now, + Or shall I come to you at evening mass + Friar. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. + My lord, we must entreat the time alone. + Par. God shield I should disturb devotion! + Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye. + Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss. Exit. + Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, + Come weep with me- past hope, past cure, past help! + Friar. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; + It strains me past the compass of my wits. + I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, + On Thursday next be married to this County. + Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, + Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it. + If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help, + Do thou but call my resolution wise + And with this knife I'll help it presently. + God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; + And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo's seal'd, + Shall be the label to another deed, + Or my true heart with treacherous revolt + Turn to another, this shall slay them both. + Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time, + Give me some present counsel; or, behold, + 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife + Shall play the empire, arbitrating that + Which the commission of thy years and art + Could to no issue of true honour bring. + Be not so long to speak. I long to die + If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. + Friar. Hold, daughter. I do spy a kind of hope, + Which craves as desperate an execution + As that is desperate which we would prevent. + If, rather than to marry County Paris + Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, + Then is it likely thou wilt undertake + A thing like death to chide away this shame, + That cop'st with death himself to scape from it; + And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy. + Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, + From off the battlements of yonder tower, + Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk + Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears, + Or shut me nightly in a charnel house, + O'ercover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, + With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; + Or bid me go into a new-made grave + And hide me with a dead man in his shroud- + Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble- + And I will do it without fear or doubt, + To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. + Friar. Hold, then. Go home, be merry, give consent + To marry Paris. Wednesday is to-morrow. + To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; + Let not the nurse lie with thee in thy chamber. + Take thou this vial, being then in bed, + And this distilled liquor drink thou off; + When presently through all thy veins shall run + A cold and drowsy humour; for no pulse + Shall keep his native progress, but surcease; + No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; + The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade + To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall + Like death when he shuts up the day of life; + Each part, depriv'd of supple government, + Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death; + And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death + Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours, + And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. + Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes + To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead. + Then, as the manner of our country is, + In thy best robes uncovered on the bier + Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault + Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. + In the mean time, against thou shalt awake, + Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift; + And hither shall he come; and he and I + Will watch thy waking, and that very night + Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. + And this shall free thee from this present shame, + If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear + Abate thy valour in the acting it. + Jul. Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear! + Friar. Hold! Get you gone, be strong and prosperous + In this resolve. I'll send a friar with speed + To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. + Jul. Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford. + Farewell, dear father. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Capulet's house. + +Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Servingmen, + two or three. + + Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ. + [Exit a Servingman.] + Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. + Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can lick + their fingers. + Cap. How canst thou try them so? + Serv. Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own + fingers. Therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with + me. + Cap. Go, begone. + Exit Servingman. + We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time. + What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence? + Nurse. Ay, forsooth. + Cap. Well, be may chance to do some good on her. + A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. + + Enter Juliet. + + Nurse. See where she comes from shrift with merry look. + Cap. How now, my headstrong? Where have you been gadding? + Jul. Where I have learnt me to repent the sin + Of disobedient opposition + To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd + By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here + To beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you! + Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you. + Cap. Send for the County. Go tell him of this. + I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. + Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell + And gave him what becomed love I might, + Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty. + Cap. Why, I am glad on't. This is well. Stand up. + This is as't should be. Let me see the County. + Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither. + Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar, + All our whole city is much bound to him. + Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet + To help me sort such needful ornaments + As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow? + Mother. No, not till Thursday. There is time enough. + Cap. Go, nurse, go with her. We'll to church to-morrow. + Exeunt Juliet and Nurse. + Mother. We shall be short in our provision. + 'Tis now near night. + Cap. Tush, I will stir about, + And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife. + Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her. + I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone. + I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho! + They are all forth; well, I will walk myself + To County Paris, to prepare him up + Against to-morrow. My heart is wondrous light, + Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene III. +Juliet's chamber. + +Enter Juliet and Nurse. + + Jul. Ay, those attires are best; but, gentle nurse, + I pray thee leave me to myself to-night; + For I have need of many orisons + To move the heavens to smile upon my state, + Which, well thou knowest, is cross and full of sin. + + Enter Mother. + + Mother. What, are you busy, ho? Need you my help? + Jul. No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries + As are behooffull for our state to-morrow. + So please you, let me now be left alone, + And let the nurse this night sit up with you; + For I am sure you have your hands full all + In this so sudden business. + Mother. Good night. + Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. + Exeunt [Mother and Nurse.] + Jul. Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. + I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins + That almost freezes up the heat of life. + I'll call them back again to comfort me. + Nurse!- What should she do here? + My dismal scene I needs must act alone. + Come, vial. + What if this mixture do not work at all? + Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? + No, No! This shall forbid it. Lie thou there. + Lays down a dagger. + What if it be a poison which the friar + Subtilly hath minist'red to have me dead, + Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd + Because he married me before to Romeo? + I fear it is; and yet methinks it should not, + For he hath still been tried a holy man. + I will not entertain so bad a thought. + How if, when I am laid into the tomb, + I wake before the time that Romeo + Come to redeem me? There's a fearful point! + Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, + To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, + And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? + Or, if I live, is it not very like + The horrible conceit of death and night, + Together with the terror of the place- + As in a vault, an ancient receptacle + Where for this many hundred years the bones + Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd; + Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, + Lies fest'ring in his shroud; where, as they say, + At some hours in the night spirits resort- + Alack, alack, is it not like that I, + So early waking- what with loathsome smells, + And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, + That living mortals, hearing them, run mad- + O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, + Environed with all these hideous fears, + And madly play with my forefathers' joints, + And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud., + And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone + As with a club dash out my desp'rate brains? + O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost + Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body + Upon a rapier's point. Stay, Tybalt, stay! + Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee. + + She [drinks and] falls upon her bed within the curtains. + + + + +Scene IV. +Capulet's house. + +Enter Lady of the House and Nurse. + + Lady. Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, nurse. + Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. + + Enter Old Capulet. + + Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir! The second cock hath crow'd, + The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock. + Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica; + Spare not for cost. + Nurse. Go, you cot-quean, go, + Get you to bed! Faith, you'll be sick to-morrow + For this night's watching. + Cap. No, not a whit. What, I have watch'd ere now + All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. + Lady. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time; + But I will watch you from such watching now. + Exeunt Lady and Nurse. + Cap. A jealous hood, a jealous hood! + + Enter three or four [Fellows, with spits and logs and baskets. + + What is there? Now, fellow, + Fellow. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. + Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit Fellow.] Sirrah, fetch drier + logs. + Call Peter; he will show thee where they are. + Fellow. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs + And never trouble Peter for the matter. + Cap. Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! + Thou shalt be loggerhead. [Exit Fellow.] Good faith, 'tis day. + The County will be here with music straight, + For so he said he would. Play music. + I hear him near. + Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say! + + Enter Nurse. + Go waken Juliet; go and trim her up. + I'll go and chat with Paris. Hie, make haste, + Make haste! The bridegroom he is come already: + Make haste, I say. + [Exeunt.] + + + + +Scene V. +Juliet's chamber. + +[Enter Nurse.] + + Nurse. Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! Fast, I warrant her, she. + Why, lamb! why, lady! Fie, you slug-abed! + Why, love, I say! madam! sweetheart! Why, bride! + What, not a word? You take your pennyworths now! + Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, + The County Paris hath set up his rest + That you shall rest but little. God forgive me! + Marry, and amen. How sound is she asleep! + I needs must wake her. Madam, madam, madam! + Ay, let the County take you in your bed! + He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be? + [Draws aside the curtains.] + What, dress'd, and in your clothes, and down again? + I must needs wake you. Lady! lady! lady! + Alas, alas! Help, help! My lady's dead! + O weraday that ever I was born! + Some aqua-vitae, ho! My lord! my lady! + + Enter Mother. + + Mother. What noise is here? + Nurse. O lamentable day! + Mother. What is the matter? + Nurse. Look, look! O heavy day! + Mother. O me, O me! My child, my only life! + Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! + Help, help! Call help. + + Enter Father. + + Father. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come. + Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd; she's dead! Alack the day! + Mother. Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! + Cap. Ha! let me see her. Out alas! she's cold, + Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; + Life and these lips have long been separated. + Death lies on her like an untimely frost + Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. + Nurse. O lamentable day! + Mother. O woful time! + Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, + Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak. + + Enter Friar [Laurence] and the County [Paris], with Musicians. + + Friar. Come, is the bride ready to go to church? + Cap. Ready to go, but never to return. + O son, the night before thy wedding day + Hath Death lain with thy wife. See, there she lies, + Flower as she was, deflowered by him. + Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir; + My daughter he hath wedded. I will die + And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death's. + Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face, + And doth it give me such a sight as this? + Mother. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! + Most miserable hour that e'er time saw + In lasting labour of his pilgrimage! + But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, + But one thing to rejoice and solace in, + And cruel Death hath catch'd it from my sight! + Nurse. O woe? O woful, woful, woful day! + Most lamentable day, most woful day + That ever ever I did yet behold! + O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! + Never was seen so black a day as this. + O woful day! O woful day! + Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! + Most detestable Death, by thee beguil'd, + By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! + O love! O life! not life, but love in death + Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd! + Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now + To murther, murther our solemnity? + O child! O child! my soul, and not my child! + Dead art thou, dead! alack, my child is dead, + And with my child my joys are buried! + Friar. Peace, ho, for shame! Confusion's cure lives not + In these confusions. Heaven and yourself + Had part in this fair maid! now heaven hath all, + And all the better is it for the maid. + Your part in her you could not keep from death, + But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. + The most you sought was her promotion, + For 'twas your heaven she should be advanc'd; + And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd + Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? + O, in this love, you love your child so ill + That you run mad, seeing that she is well. + She's not well married that lives married long, + But she's best married that dies married young. + Dry up your tears and stick your rosemary + On this fair corse, and, as the custom is, + In all her best array bear her to church; + For though fond nature bids us all lament, + Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. + Cap. All things that we ordained festival + Turn from their office to black funeral- + Our instruments to melancholy bells, + Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast; + Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change; + Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse; + And all things change them to the contrary. + Friar. Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him; + And go, Sir Paris. Every one prepare + To follow this fair corse unto her grave. + The heavens do low'r upon you for some ill; + Move them no more by crossing their high will. + Exeunt. Manent Musicians [and Nurse]. + 1. Mus. Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone. + Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up! + For well you know this is a pitiful case. [Exit.] + 1. Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. + + Enter Peter. + + Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease,' 'Heart's ease'! + O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.' + 1. Mus. Why 'Heart's ease'', + Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My heart is full + of woe.' O, play me some merry dump to comfort me. + 1. Mus. Not a dump we! 'Tis no time to play now. + Pet. You will not then? + 1. Mus. No. + Pet. I will then give it you soundly. + 1. Mus. What will you give us? + Pet. No money, on my faith, but the gleek. I will give you the + minstrel. + 1. Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature. + Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. + I will carry no crotchets. I'll re you, I'll fa you. Do you note + me? + 1. Mus. An you re us and fa us, you note us. + 2. Mus. Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your wit. + Pet. Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you with an iron + wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer me like men. + + 'When griping grief the heart doth wound, + And doleful dumps the mind oppress, + Then music with her silver sound'- + + Why 'silver sound'? Why 'music with her silver sound'? + What say you, Simon Catling? + 1. Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. + Pet. Pretty! What say You, Hugh Rebeck? + 2. Mus. I say 'silver sound' because musicians sound for silver. + Pet. Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost? + 3. Mus. Faith, I know not what to say. + Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer. I will say for you. It + is 'music with her silver sound' because musicians have no gold + for sounding. + + 'Then music with her silver sound + With speedy help doth lend redress.' [Exit. + + 1. Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same? + 2. Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here, tarry for the + mourners, and stay dinner. + Exeunt. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. Scene I. +Mantua. A street. + +Enter Romeo. + + Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep + My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. + My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne, + And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit + Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. + I dreamt my lady came and found me dead + (Strange dream that gives a dead man leave to think!) + And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips + That I reviv'd and was an emperor. + Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, + When but love's shadows are so rich in joy! + + Enter Romeo's Man Balthasar, booted. + + News from Verona! How now, Balthasar? + Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? + How doth my lady? Is my father well? + How fares my Juliet? That I ask again, + For nothing can be ill if she be well. + Man. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. + Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, + And her immortal part with angels lives. + I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault + And presently took post to tell it you. + O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, + Since you did leave it for my office, sir. + Rom. Is it e'en so? Then I defy you, stars! + Thou knowest my lodging. Get me ink and paper + And hire posthorses. I will hence to-night. + Man. I do beseech you, sir, have patience. + Your looks are pale and wild and do import + Some misadventure. + Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd. + Leave me and do the thing I bid thee do. + Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? + Man. No, my good lord. + Rom. No matter. Get thee gone + And hire those horses. I'll be with thee straight. + Exit [Balthasar]. + Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. + Let's see for means. O mischief, thou art swift + To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! + I do remember an apothecary, + And hereabouts 'a dwells, which late I noted + In tatt'red weeds, with overwhelming brows, + Culling of simples. Meagre were his looks, + Sharp misery had worn him to the bones; + And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, + An alligator stuff'd, and other skins + Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves + A beggarly account of empty boxes, + Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, + Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses + Were thinly scattered, to make up a show. + Noting this penury, to myself I said, + 'An if a man did need a poison now + Whose sale is present death in Mantua, + Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.' + O, this same thought did but forerun my need, + And this same needy man must sell it me. + As I remember, this should be the house. + Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. What, ho! apothecary! + + Enter Apothecary. + + Apoth. Who calls so loud? + Rom. Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor. + Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have + A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear + As will disperse itself through all the veins + That the life-weary taker mall fall dead, + And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath + As violently as hasty powder fir'd + Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. + Apoth. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law + Is death to any he that utters them. + Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness + And fearest to die? Famine is in thy cheeks, + Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, + Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back: + The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law; + The world affords no law to make thee rich; + Then be not poor, but break it and take this. + Apoth. My poverty but not my will consents. + Rom. I pay thy poverty and not thy will. + Apoth. Put this in any liquid thing you will + And drink it off, and if you had the strength + Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. + Rom. There is thy gold- worse poison to men's souls, + Doing more murther in this loathsome world, + Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. + I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. + Farewell. Buy food and get thyself in flesh. + Come, cordial and not poison, go with me + To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee. + Exeunt. + + + + +Scene II. +Verona. Friar Laurence's cell. + +Enter Friar John to Friar Laurence. + + John. Holy Franciscan friar, brother, ho! + + Enter Friar Laurence. + + Laur. This same should be the voice of Friar John. + Welcome from Mantua. What says Romeo? + Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. + John. Going to find a barefoot brother out, + One of our order, to associate me + Here in this city visiting the sick, + And finding him, the searchers of the town, + Suspecting that we both were in a house + Where the infectious pestilence did reign, + Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth, + So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. + Laur. Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo? + John. I could not send it- here it is again- + Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, + So fearful were they of infection. + Laur. Unhappy fortune! By my brotherhood, + The letter was not nice, but full of charge, + Of dear import; and the neglecting it + May do much danger. Friar John, go hence, + Get me an iron crow and bring it straight + Unto my cell. + John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. Exit. + Laur. Now, must I to the monument alone. + Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake. + She will beshrew me much that Romeo + Hath had no notice of these accidents; + But I will write again to Mantua, + And keep her at my cell till Romeo come- + Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! Exit. + + + + +Scene III. +Verona. A churchyard; in it the monument of the Capulets. + +Enter Paris and his Page with flowers and [a torch]. + + Par. Give me thy torch, boy. Hence, and stand aloof. + Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. + Under yond yew tree lay thee all along, + Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground. + So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread + (Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves) + But thou shalt hear it. Whistle then to me, + As signal that thou hear'st something approach. + Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. + Page. [aside] I am almost afraid to stand alone + Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. [Retires.] + Par. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew + (O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones) + Which with sweet water nightly I will dew; + Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans. + The obsequies that I for thee will keep + Nightly shall be to strew, thy grave and weep. + Whistle Boy. + The boy gives warning something doth approach. + What cursed foot wanders this way to-night + To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? + What, with a torch? Muffle me, night, awhile. [Retires.] + + Enter Romeo, and Balthasar with a torch, a mattock, + and a crow of iron. + + Rom. Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. + Hold, take this letter. Early in the morning + See thou deliver it to my lord and father. + Give me the light. Upon thy life I charge thee, + Whate'er thou hearest or seest, stand all aloof + And do not interrupt me in my course. + Why I descend into this bed of death + Is partly to behold my lady's face, + But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger + A precious ring- a ring that I must use + In dear employment. Therefore hence, be gone. + But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry + In what I farther shall intend to do, + By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint + And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs. + The time and my intents are savage-wild, + More fierce and more inexorable far + Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. + Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. + Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that. + Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow. + Bal. [aside] For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout. + His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires.] + Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, + Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth, + Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, + And in despite I'll cram thee with more food. + Romeo opens the tomb. + Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague + That murd'red my love's cousin- with which grief + It is supposed the fair creature died- + And here is come to do some villanous shame + To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him. + Stop thy unhallowed toil, vile Montague! + Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death? + Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee. + Obey, and go with me; for thou must die. + Rom. I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. + Good gentle youth, tempt not a desp'rate man. + Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone; + Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, + But not another sin upon my head + By urging me to fury. O, be gone! + By heaven, I love thee better than myself, + For I come hither arm'd against myself. + Stay not, be gone. Live, and hereafter say + A madman's mercy bid thee run away. + Par. I do defy thy, conjuration + And apprehend thee for a felon here. + Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy! + They fight. + Page. O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. + [Exit. Paris falls.] + Par. O, I am slain! If thou be merciful, + Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies.] + Rom. In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. + Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris! + What said my man when my betossed soul + Did not attend him as we rode? I think + He told me Paris should have married Juliet. + Said he not so? or did I dream it so? + Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet + To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, + One writ with me in sour misfortune's book! + I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave. + A grave? O, no, a lanthorn, slaught'red youth, + For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes + This vault a feasting presence full of light. + Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. + [Lays him in the tomb.] + How oft when men are at the point of death + Have they been merry! which their keepers call + A lightning before death. O, how may I + Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! + Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, + Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. + Thou art not conquer'd. Beauty's ensign yet + Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, + And death's pale flag is not advanced there. + Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? + O, what more favour can I do to thee + Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain + To sunder his that was thine enemy? + Forgive me, cousin.' Ah, dear Juliet, + Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe + That unsubstantial Death is amorous, + And that the lean abhorred monster keeps + Thee here in dark to be his paramour? + For fear of that I still will stay with thee + And never from this palace of dim night + Depart again. Here, here will I remain + With worms that are thy chambermaids. O, here + Will I set up my everlasting rest + And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars + From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! + Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you + The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss + A dateless bargain to engrossing death! + Come, bitter conduct; come, unsavoury guide! + Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on + The dashing rocks thy seasick weary bark! + Here's to my love! [Drinks.] O true apothecary! + Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. Falls. + + Enter Friar [Laurence], with lanthorn, crow, and spade. + + Friar. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night + Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there? + Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. + Friar. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, + What torch is yond that vainly lends his light + To grubs and eyeless skulls? As I discern, + It burneth in the Capels' monument. + Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, + One that you love. + Friar. Who is it? + Bal. Romeo. + Friar. How long hath he been there? + Bal. Full half an hour. + Friar. Go with me to the vault. + Bal. I dare not, sir. + My master knows not but I am gone hence, + And fearfully did menace me with death + If I did stay to look on his intents. + Friar. Stay then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me. + O, much I fear some ill unthrifty thing. + Bal. As I did sleep under this yew tree here, + I dreamt my master and another fought, + And that my master slew him. + Friar. Romeo! + Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains + The stony entrance of this sepulchre? + What mean these masterless and gory swords + To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? [Enters the tomb.] + Romeo! O, pale! Who else? What, Paris too? + And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour + Is guilty of this lamentable chance! The lady stirs. + Juliet rises. + Jul. O comfortable friar! where is my lord? + I do remember well where I should be, + And there I am. Where is my Romeo? + Friar. I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest + Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep. + A greater power than we can contradict + Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. + Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; + And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee + Among a sisterhood of holy nuns. + Stay not to question, for the watch is coming. + Come, go, good Juliet. I dare no longer stay. + Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. + Exit [Friar]. + What's here? A cup, clos'd in my true love's hand? + Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. + O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop + To help me after? I will kiss thy lips. + Haply some poison yet doth hang on them + To make me die with a restorative. [Kisses him.] + Thy lips are warm! + Chief Watch. [within] Lead, boy. Which way? + Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! + [Snatches Romeo's dagger.] + This is thy sheath; there rest, and let me die. + She stabs herself and falls [on Romeo's body]. + + Enter [Paris's] Boy and Watch. + + Boy. This is the place. There, where the torch doth burn. + Chief Watch. 'the ground is bloody. Search about the churchyard. + Go, some of you; whoe'er you find attach. + [Exeunt some of the Watch.] + Pitiful sight! here lies the County slain; + And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, + Who here hath lain this two days buried. + Go, tell the Prince; run to the Capulets; + Raise up the Montagues; some others search. + [Exeunt others of the Watch.] + We see the ground whereon these woes do lie, + But the true ground of all these piteous woes + We cannot without circumstance descry. + + Enter [some of the Watch,] with Romeo's Man [Balthasar]. + + 2. Watch. Here's Romeo's man. We found him in the churchyard. + Chief Watch. Hold him in safety till the Prince come hither. + + Enter Friar [Laurence] and another Watchman. + + 3. Watch. Here is a friar that trembles, sighs, and weeps. + We took this mattock and this spade from him + As he was coming from this churchyard side. + Chief Watch. A great suspicion! Stay the friar too. + + Enter the Prince [and Attendants]. + + Prince. What misadventure is so early up, + That calls our person from our morning rest? + + Enter Capulet and his Wife [with others]. + + Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad? + Wife. The people in the street cry 'Romeo,' + Some 'Juliet,' and some 'Paris'; and all run, + With open outcry, toward our monument. + Prince. What fear is this which startles in our ears? + Chief Watch. Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain; + And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, + Warm and new kill'd. + Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. + Chief Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man, + With instruments upon them fit to open + These dead men's tombs. + Cap. O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! + This dagger hath mista'en, for, lo, his house + Is empty on the back of Montague, + And it missheathed in my daughter's bosom! + Wife. O me! this sight of death is as a bell + That warns my old age to a sepulchre. + + Enter Montague [and others]. + + Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early up + To see thy son and heir more early down. + Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night! + Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath. + What further woe conspires against mine age? + Prince. Look, and thou shalt see. + Mon. O thou untaught! what manners is in this, + To press before thy father to a grave? + Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, + Till we can clear these ambiguities + And know their spring, their head, their true descent; + And then will I be general of your woes + And lead you even to death. Meantime forbear, + And let mischance be slave to patience. + Bring forth the parties of suspicion. + Friar. I am the greatest, able to do least, + Yet most suspected, as the time and place + Doth make against me, of this direful murther; + And here I stand, both to impeach and purge + Myself condemned and myself excus'd. + Prince. Then say it once what thou dost know in this. + Friar. I will be brief, for my short date of breath + Is not so long as is a tedious tale. + Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; + And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife. + I married them; and their stol'n marriage day + Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death + Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city; + For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd. + You, to remove that siege of grief from her, + Betroth'd and would have married her perforce + To County Paris. Then comes she to me + And with wild looks bid me devise some mean + To rid her from this second marriage, + Or in my cell there would she kill herself. + Then gave I her (so tutored by my art) + A sleeping potion; which so took effect + As I intended, for it wrought on her + The form of death. Meantime I writ to Romeo + That he should hither come as this dire night + To help to take her from her borrowed grave, + Being the time the potion's force should cease. + But he which bore my letter, Friar John, + Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight + Return'd my letter back. Then all alone + At the prefixed hour of her waking + Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; + Meaning to keep her closely at my cell + Till I conveniently could send to Romeo. + But when I came, some minute ere the time + Of her awaking, here untimely lay + The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. + She wakes; and I entreated her come forth + And bear this work of heaven with patience; + But then a noise did scare me from the tomb, + And she, too desperate, would not go with me, + But, as it seems, did violence on herself. + All this I know, and to the marriage + Her nurse is privy; and if aught in this + Miscarried by my fault, let my old life + Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time, + Unto the rigour of severest law. + Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man. + Where's Romeo's man? What can he say in this? + Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death; + And then in post he came from Mantua + To this same place, to this same monument. + This letter he early bid me give his father, + And threat'ned me with death, going in the vault, + If I departed not and left him there. + Prince. Give me the letter. I will look on it. + Where is the County's page that rais'd the watch? + Sirrah, what made your master in this place? + Boy. He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave; + And bid me stand aloof, and so I did. + Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb; + And by-and-by my master drew on him; + And then I ran away to call the watch. + Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's words, + Their course of love, the tidings of her death; + And here he writes that he did buy a poison + Of a poor pothecary, and therewithal + Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. + Where be these enemies? Capulet, Montage, + See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, + That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love! + And I, for winking at you, discords too, + Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish'd. + Cap. O brother Montague, give me thy hand. + This is my daughter's jointure, for no more + Can I demand. + Mon. But I can give thee more; + For I will raise her Statue in pure gold, + That whiles Verona by that name is known, + There shall no figure at such rate be set + As that of true and faithful Juliet. + Cap. As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie- + Poor sacrifices of our enmity! + Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it brings. + The sun for sorrow will not show his head. + Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; + Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished; + For never was a story of more woe + Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. + Exeunt omnes. + +THE END + + + +<> + +1594 + + + + + +THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + Persons in the Induction + A LORD + CHRISTOPHER SLY, a tinker + HOSTESS + PAGE + PLAYERS + HUNTSMEN + SERVANTS + + BAPTISTA MINOLA, a gentleman of Padua + VINCENTIO, a Merchant of Pisa + LUCENTIO, son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca + PETRUCHIO, a gentleman of Verona, a suitor to Katherina + + Suitors to Bianca + GREMIO + HORTENSIO + + Servants to Lucentio + TRANIO + BIONDELLO + + Servants to Petruchio + GRUMIO + CURTIS + + A PEDANT + + Daughters to Baptista + KATHERINA, the shrew + BIANCA + + A WIDOW + + Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and + Petruchio + + SCENE: + Padua, and PETRUCHIO'S house in the country + +SC_1 + INDUCTION. SCENE I. + Before an alehouse on a heath + + Enter HOSTESS and SLY + + SLY. I'll pheeze you, in faith. + HOSTESS. A pair of stocks, you rogue! + SLY. Y'are a baggage; the Slys are no rogues. Look in the + chronicles: we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucas + pallabris; let the world slide. Sessa! + HOSTESS. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? + SLY. No, not a denier. Go by, Saint Jeronimy, go to thy cold bed + and warm thee. + HOSTESS. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the third-borough. + Exit + SLY. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law. + I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly. + [Falls asleep] + + Wind horns. Enter a LORD from bunting, with his train + + LORD. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds; + Brach Merriman, the poor cur, is emboss'd; + And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach. + Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good + At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault? + I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. + FIRST HUNTSMAN. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; + He cried upon it at the merest loss, + And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent; + Trust me, I take him for the better dog. + LORD. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet, + I would esteem him worth a dozen such. + But sup them well, and look unto them all; + To-morrow I intend to hunt again. + FIRST HUNTSMAN. I will, my lord. + LORD. What's here? One dead, or drunk? + See, doth he breathe? + SECOND HUNTSMAN. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale, + This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. + LORD. O monstrous beast, how like a swine he lies! + Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! + Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. + What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, + Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, + A most delicious banquet by his bed, + And brave attendants near him when he wakes, + Would not the beggar then forget himself? + FIRST HUNTSMAN. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. + SECOND HUNTSMAN. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd. + LORD. Even as a flatt'ring dream or worthless fancy. + Then take him up, and manage well the jest: + Carry him gently to my fairest chamber, + And hang it round with all my wanton pictures; + Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters, + And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet; + Procure me music ready when he wakes, + To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound; + And if he chance to speak, be ready straight, + And with a low submissive reverence + Say 'What is it your honour will command?' + Let one attend him with a silver basin + Full of rose-water and bestrew'd with flowers; + Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper, + And say 'Will't please your lordship cool your hands?' + Some one be ready with a costly suit, + And ask him what apparel he will wear; + Another tell him of his hounds and horse, + And that his lady mourns at his disease; + Persuade him that he hath been lunatic, + And, when he says he is, say that he dreams, + For he is nothing but a mighty lord. + This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs; + It will be pastime passing excellent, + If it be husbanded with modesty. + FIRST HUNTSMAN. My lord, I warrant you we will play our part + As he shall think by our true diligence + He is no less than what we say he is. + LORD. Take him up gently, and to bed with him; + And each one to his office when he wakes. + [SLY is carried out. A trumpet sounds] + Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds- + Exit SERVANT + Belike some noble gentleman that means, + Travelling some journey, to repose him here. + + Re-enter a SERVINGMAN + + How now! who is it? + SERVANT. An't please your honour, players + That offer service to your lordship. + LORD. Bid them come near. + + Enter PLAYERS + + Now, fellows, you are welcome. + PLAYERS. We thank your honour. + LORD. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? + PLAYER. So please your lordship to accept our duty. + LORD. With all my heart. This fellow I remember + Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son; + 'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well. + I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part + Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd. + PLAYER. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means. + LORD. 'Tis very true; thou didst it excellent. + Well, you are come to me in happy time, + The rather for I have some sport in hand + Wherein your cunning can assist me much. + There is a lord will hear you play to-night; + But I am doubtful of your modesties, + Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour, + For yet his honour never heard a play, + You break into some merry passion + And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs, + If you should smile, he grows impatient. + PLAYER. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves, + Were he the veriest antic in the world. + LORD. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, + And give them friendly welcome every one; + Let them want nothing that my house affords. + Exit one with the PLAYERS + Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, + And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady; + That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, + And call him 'madam,' do him obeisance. + Tell him from me- as he will win my love- + He bear himself with honourable action, + Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies + Unto their lords, by them accomplished; + Such duty to the drunkard let him do, + With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy, + And say 'What is't your honour will command, + Wherein your lady and your humble wife + May show her duty and make known her love?' + And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses, + And with declining head into his bosom, + Bid him shed tears, as being overjoyed + To see her noble lord restor'd to health, + Who for this seven years hath esteemed him + No better than a poor and loathsome beggar. + And if the boy have not a woman's gift + To rain a shower of commanded tears, + An onion will do well for such a shift, + Which, in a napkin being close convey'd, + Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. + See this dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst; + Anon I'll give thee more instructions. Exit a SERVINGMAN + I know the boy will well usurp the grace, + Voice, gait, and action, of a gentlewoman; + I long to hear him call the drunkard 'husband'; + And how my men will stay themselves from laughter + When they do homage to this simple peasant. + I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence + May well abate the over-merry spleen, + Which otherwise would grow into extremes. Exeunt + +SC_2 + SCENE II. + A bedchamber in the LORD'S house + + Enter aloft SLY, with ATTENDANTS; some with apparel, basin + and ewer, and other appurtenances; and LORD + + SLY. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. + FIRST SERVANT. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack? + SECOND SERVANT. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? + THIRD SERVANT. What raiment will your honour wear to-day? + SLY. I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor 'lordship.' I + ne'er drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves, + give me conserves of beef. Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, + for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than + legs, nor no more shoes than feet- nay, sometime more feet than + shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather. + LORD. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! + O, that a mighty man of such descent, + Of such possessions, and so high esteem, + Should be infused with so foul a spirit! + SLY. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old + Sly's son of Burton Heath; by birth a pedlar, by education a + cardmaker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present + profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of + Wincot, if she know me not; if she say I am not fourteen pence on + the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lying'st knave in + Christendom. What! I am not bestraught. [Taking a pot of ale] + Here's- + THIRD SERVANT. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn! + SECOND SERVANT. O, this is it that makes your servants droop! + LORD. Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house, + As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. + O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth! + Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, + And banish hence these abject lowly dreams. + Look how thy servants do attend on thee, + Each in his office ready at thy beck. + Wilt thou have music? Hark! Apollo plays, [Music] + And twenty caged nightingales do sing. + Or wilt thou sleep? We'll have thee to a couch + Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed + On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. + Say thou wilt walk: we will bestrew the ground. + Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapp'd, + Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. + Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar + Above the morning lark. Or wilt thou hunt? + Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them + And fetch shall echoes from the hollow earth. + FIRST SERVANT. Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift + As breathed stags; ay, fleeter than the roe. + SECOND SERVANT. Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee + straight + Adonis painted by a running brook, + And Cytherea all in sedges hid, + Which seem to move and wanton with her breath + Even as the waving sedges play wi' th' wind. + LORD. We'll show thee lo as she was a maid + And how she was beguiled and surpris'd, + As lively painted as the deed was done. + THIRD SERVANT. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, + Scratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleeds + And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, + So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. + LORD. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord. + Thou hast a lady far more beautiful + Than any woman in this waning age. + FIRST SERVANT. And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee + Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face, + She was the fairest creature in the world; + And yet she is inferior to none. + SLY. Am I a lord and have I such a lady? + Or do I dream? Or have I dream'd till now? + I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; + I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things. + Upon my life, I am a lord indeed, + And not a tinker, nor Christopher Sly. + Well, bring our lady hither to our sight; + And once again, a pot o' th' smallest ale. + SECOND SERVANT. Will't please your Mightiness to wash your hands? + O, how we joy to see your wit restor'd! + O, that once more you knew but what you are! + These fifteen years you have been in a dream; + Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept. + SLY. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. + But did I never speak of all that time? + FIRST SERVANT. O, yes, my lord, but very idle words; + For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, + Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door; + And rail upon the hostess of the house, + And say you would present her at the leet, + Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts. + Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. + SLY. Ay, the woman's maid of the house. + THIRD SERVANT. Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid, + Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up, + As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece, + And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell; + And twenty more such names and men as these, + Which never were, nor no man ever saw. + SLY. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends! + ALL. Amen. + + Enter the PAGE as a lady, with ATTENDANTS + + SLY. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it. + PAGE. How fares my noble lord? + SLY. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. + Where is my wife? + PAGE. Here, noble lord; what is thy will with her? + SLY. Are you my wife, and will not call me husband? + My men should call me 'lord'; I am your goodman. + PAGE. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband; + I am your wife in all obedience. + SLY. I know it well. What must I call her? + LORD. Madam. + SLY. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? + LORD. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call ladies. + SLY. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd + And slept above some fifteen year or more. + PAGE. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, + Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. + SLY. 'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone. + Exeunt SERVANTS + Madam, undress you, and come now to bed. + PAGE. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you + To pardon me yet for a night or two; + Or, if not so, until the sun be set. + For your physicians have expressly charg'd, + In peril to incur your former malady, + That I should yet absent me from your bed. + I hope this reason stands for my excuse. + SLY. Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would + be loath to fall into my dreams again. I will therefore tarry in + despite of the flesh and the blood. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment, + Are come to play a pleasant comedy; + For so your doctors hold it very meet, + Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood, + And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy. + Therefore they thought it good you hear a play + And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, + Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. + SLY. Marry, I will; let them play it. Is not a comonty a + Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick? + PAGE. No, my good lord, it is more pleasing stuff. + SLY. What, household stuff? + PAGE. It is a kind of history. + SLY. Well, we'll see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side and let + the world slip;-we shall ne'er be younger. + [They sit down] + + A flourish of trumpets announces the play + + + + +<> + + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Padua. A public place + +Enter LUCENTIO and his man TRANIO + + LUCENTIO. Tranio, since for the great desire I had + To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, + I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy, + The pleasant garden of great Italy, + And by my father's love and leave am arm'd + With his good will and thy good company, + My trusty servant well approv'd in all, + Here let us breathe, and haply institute + A course of learning and ingenious studies. + Pisa, renowned for grave citizens, + Gave me my being and my father first, + A merchant of great traffic through the world, + Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii; + Vincentio's son, brought up in Florence, + It shall become to serve all hopes conceiv'd, + To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds. + And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study, + Virtue and that part of philosophy + Will I apply that treats of happiness + By virtue specially to be achiev'd. + Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left + And am to Padua come as he that leaves + A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep, + And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. + TRANIO. Mi perdonato, gentle master mine; + I am in all affected as yourself; + Glad that you thus continue your resolve + To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. + Only, good master, while we do admire + This virtue and this moral discipline, + Let's be no Stoics nor no stocks, I pray, + Or so devote to Aristotle's checks + As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd. + Balk logic with acquaintance that you have, + And practise rhetoric in your common talk; + Music and poesy use to quicken you; + The mathematics and the metaphysics, + Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you. + No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en; + In brief, sir, study what you most affect. + LUCENTIO. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise. + If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore, + We could at once put us in readiness, + And take a lodging fit to entertain + Such friends as time in Padua shall beget. + + Enter BAPTISTA with his two daughters, KATHERINA + and BIANCA; GREMIO, a pantaloon; HORTENSIO, + suitor to BIANCA. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand by + + But stay awhile; what company is this? + TRANIO. Master, some show to welcome us to town. + BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, importune me no farther, + For how I firmly am resolv'd you know; + That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter + Before I have a husband for the elder. + If either of you both love Katherina, + Because I know you well and love you well, + Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. + GREMIO. To cart her rather. She's too rough for me. + There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife? + KATHERINA. [To BAPTISTA] I pray you, sir, is it your will + To make a stale of me amongst these mates? + HORTENSIO. Mates, maid! How mean you that? No mates for you, + Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. + KATHERINA. I' faith, sir, you shall never need to fear; + Iwis it is not halfway to her heart; + But if it were, doubt not her care should be + To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool, + And paint your face, and use you like a fool. + HORTENSIO. From all such devils, good Lord deliver us! + GREMIO. And me, too, good Lord! + TRANIO. Husht, master! Here's some good pastime toward; + That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward. + LUCENTIO. But in the other's silence do I see + Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety. + Peace, Tranio! + TRANIO. Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill. + BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good + What I have said- Bianca, get you in; + And let it not displease thee, good Bianca, + For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. + KATHERINA. A pretty peat! it is best + Put finger in the eye, an she knew why. + BIANCA. Sister, content you in my discontent. + Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe; + My books and instruments shall be my company, + On them to look, and practise by myself. + LUCENTIO. Hark, Tranio, thou mayst hear Minerva speak! + HORTENSIO. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange? + Sorry am I that our good will effects + Bianca's grief. + GREMIO. Why will you mew her up, + Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, + And make her bear the penance of her tongue? + BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv'd. + Go in, Bianca. Exit BIANCA + And for I know she taketh most delight + In music, instruments, and poetry, + Schoolmasters will I keep within my house + Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio, + Or, Signior Gremio, you, know any such, + Prefer them hither; for to cunning men + I will be very kind, and liberal + To mine own children in good bringing-up; + And so, farewell. Katherina, you may stay; + For I have more to commune with Bianca. Exit + KATHERINA. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? + What! shall I be appointed hours, as though, belike, + I knew not what to take and what to leave? Ha! Exit + GREMIO. You may go to the devil's dam; your gifts are so good + here's none will hold you. There! Love is not so great, + Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly + out; our cake's dough on both sides. Farewell; yet, for the love + I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man + to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her + father. + HORTENSIO. SO Will I, Signior Gremio; but a word, I pray. Though + the nature of our quarrel yet never brook'd parle, know now, upon + advice, it toucheth us both- that we may yet again have access to + our fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love- to + labour and effect one thing specially. + GREMIO. What's that, I pray? + HORTENSIO. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. + GREMIO. A husband? a devil. + HORTENSIO. I say a husband. + GREMIO. I say a devil. Think'st thou, Hortensio, though her father + be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell? + HORTENSIO. Tush, Gremio! Though it pass your patience and mine to + endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good fellows in the + world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all + faults, and money enough. + GREMIO. I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with this + condition: to be whipp'd at the high cross every morning. + HORTENSIO. Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten + apples. But, come; since this bar in law makes us friends, it + shall be so far forth friendly maintain'd till by helping + Baptista's eldest daughter to a husband we set his youngest free + for a husband, and then have to't afresh. Sweet Bianca! Happy man + be his dole! He that runs fastest gets the ring. How say you, + Signior Gremio? + GREMIO. I am agreed; and would I had given him the best horse in + Padua to begin his wooing that would thoroughly woo her, wed her, + and bed her, and rid the house of her! Come on. + Exeunt GREMIO and HORTENSIO + TRANIO. I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible + That love should of a sudden take such hold? + LUCENTIO. O Tranio, till I found it to be true, + I never thought it possible or likely. + But see! while idly I stood looking on, + I found the effect of love in idleness; + And now in plainness do confess to thee, + That art to me as secret and as dear + As Anna to the Queen of Carthage was- + Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, + If I achieve not this young modest girl. + Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst; + Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. + TRANIO. Master, it is no time to chide you now; + Affection is not rated from the heart; + If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so: + 'Redime te captum quam queas minimo.' + LUCENTIO. Gramercies, lad. Go forward; this contents; + The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound. + TRANIO. Master, you look'd so longly on the maid. + Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all. + LUCENTIO. O, yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, + Such as the daughter of Agenor had, + That made great Jove to humble him to her hand, + When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. + TRANIO. Saw you no more? Mark'd you not how her sister + Began to scold and raise up such a storm + That mortal ears might hardly endure the din? + LUCENTIO. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move, + And with her breath she did perfume the air; + Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her. + TRANIO. Nay, then 'tis time to stir him from his trance. + I pray, awake, sir. If you love the maid, + Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it stands: + Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd + That, till the father rid his hands of her, + Master, your love must live a maid at home; + And therefore has he closely mew'd her up, + Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors. + LUCENTIO. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he! + But art thou not advis'd he took some care + To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her? + TRANIO. Ay, marry, am I, sir, and now 'tis plotted. + LUCENTIO. I have it, Tranio. + TRANIO. Master, for my hand, + Both our inventions meet and jump in one. + LUCENTIO. Tell me thine first. + TRANIO. You will be schoolmaster, + And undertake the teaching of the maid- + That's your device. + LUCENTIO. It is. May it be done? + TRANIO. Not possible; for who shall bear your part + And be in Padua here Vincentio's son; + Keep house and ply his book, welcome his friends, + Visit his countrymen, and banquet them? + LUCENTIO. Basta, content thee, for I have it full. + We have not yet been seen in any house, + Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces + For man or master. Then it follows thus: + Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead, + Keep house and port and servants, as I should; + I will some other be- some Florentine, + Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa. + 'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so. Tranio, at once + Uncase thee; take my colour'd hat and cloak. + When Biondello comes, he waits on thee; + But I will charm him first to keep his tongue. + TRANIO. So had you need. [They exchange habits] + In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is, + And I am tied to be obedient- + For so your father charg'd me at our parting: + 'Be serviceable to my son' quoth he, + Although I think 'twas in another sense- + I am content to be Lucentio, + Because so well I love Lucentio. + LUCENTIO. Tranio, be so because Lucentio loves; + And let me be a slave t' achieve that maid + Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye. + + Enter BIONDELLO. + + Here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you been? + BIONDELLO. Where have I been! Nay, how now! where are you? + Master, has my fellow Tranio stol'n your clothes? + Or you stol'n his? or both? Pray, what's the news? + LUCENTIO. Sirrah, come hither; 'tis no time to jest, + And therefore frame your manners to the time. + Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, + Puts my apparel and my count'nance on, + And I for my escape have put on his; + For in a quarrel since I came ashore + I kill'd a man, and fear I was descried. + Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes, + While I make way from hence to save my life. + You understand me? + BIONDELLO. I, sir? Ne'er a whit. + LUCENTIO. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth: + Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio. + BIONDELLO. The better for him; would I were so too! + TRANIO. So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after, + That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter. + But, sirrah, not for my sake but your master's, I advise + You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies. + When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio; + But in all places else your master Lucentio. + LUCENTIO. Tranio, let's go. + One thing more rests, that thyself execute- + To make one among these wooers. If thou ask me why- + Sufficeth, my reasons are both good and weighty. Exeunt + + The Presenters above speak + + FIRST SERVANT. My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play. + SLY. Yes, by Saint Anne do I. A good matter, surely; comes there + any more of it? + PAGE. My lord, 'tis but begun. + SLY. 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady + Would 'twere done! [They sit and mark] + + + + +SCENE II. +Padua. Before HORTENSIO'S house + +Enter PETRUCHIO and his man GRUMIO + + PETRUCHIO. Verona, for a while I take my leave, + To see my friends in Padua; but of all + My best beloved and approved friend, + Hortensio; and I trow this is his house. + Here, sirrah Grumio, knock, I say. + GRUMIO. Knock, sir! Whom should I knock? + Is there any man has rebus'd your worship? + PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. + GRUMIO. Knock you here, sir? Why, sir, what am I, sir, that I + should knock you here, sir? + PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate, + And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate. + GRUMIO. My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock you first, + And then I know after who comes by the worst. + PETRUCHIO. Will it not be? + Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock I'll ring it; + I'll try how you can sol-fa, and sing it. + [He wrings him by the ears] + GRUMIO. Help, masters, help! My master is mad. + PETRUCHIO. Now knock when I bid you, sirrah villain! + + Enter HORTENSIO + + HORTENSIO. How now! what's the matter? My old friend Grumio and my + good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona? + PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray? + 'Con tutto il cuore ben trovato' may I say. + HORTENSIO. Alla nostra casa ben venuto, + Molto honorato signor mio Petruchio. + Rise, Grumio, rise; we will compound this quarrel. + GRUMIO. Nay, 'tis no matter, sir, what he 'leges in Latin. If this + be not a lawful cause for me to leave his service- look you, sir: + he bid me knock him and rap him soundly, sir. Well, was it fit + for a servant to use his master so; being, perhaps, for aught I + see, two and thirty, a pip out? + Whom would to God I had well knock'd at first, + Then had not Grumio come by the worst. + PETRUCHIO. A senseless villain! Good Hortensio, + I bade the rascal knock upon your gate, + And could not get him for my heart to do it. + GRUMIO. Knock at the gate? O heavens! Spake you not these words + plain: 'Sirrah knock me here, rap me here, knock me well, and + knock me soundly'? And come you now with 'knocking at the gate'? + PETRUCHIO. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you. + HORTENSIO. Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge; + Why, this's a heavy chance 'twixt him and you, + Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. + And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale + Blows you to Padua here from old Verona? + PETRUCHIO. Such wind as scatters young men through the world + To seek their fortunes farther than at home, + Where small experience grows. But in a few, + Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me: + Antonio, my father, is deceas'd, + And I have thrust myself into this maze, + Haply to wive and thrive as best I may; + Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home, + And so am come abroad to see the world. + HORTENSIO. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee + And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife? + Thou'dst thank me but a little for my counsel, + And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich, + And very rich; but th'art too much my friend, + And I'll not wish thee to her. + PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we + Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know + One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife, + As wealth is burden of my wooing dance, + Be she as foul as was Florentius' love, + As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd + As Socrates' Xanthippe or a worse- + She moves me not, or not removes, at least, + Affection's edge in me, were she as rough + As are the swelling Adriatic seas. + I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; + If wealthily, then happily in Padua. + GRUMIO. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is. + Why, give him gold enough and marry him to a puppet or an + aglet-baby, or an old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, though + she has as many diseases as two and fifty horses. Why, nothing + comes amiss, so money comes withal. + HORTENSIO. Petruchio, since we are stepp'd thus far in, + I will continue that I broach'd in jest. + I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife + With wealth enough, and young and beauteous; + Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman; + Her only fault, and that is faults enough, + Is- that she is intolerable curst, + And shrewd and froward so beyond all measure + That, were my state far worser than it is, + I would not wed her for a mine of gold. + PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, peace! thou know'st not gold's effect. + Tell me her father's name, and 'tis enough; + For I will board her though she chide as loud + As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack. + HORTENSIO. Her father is Baptista Minola, + An affable and courteous gentleman; + Her name is Katherina Minola, + Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue. + PETRUCHIO. I know her father, though I know not her; + And he knew my deceased father well. + I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her; + And therefore let me be thus bold with you + To give you over at this first encounter, + Unless you will accompany me thither. + GRUMIO. I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. O' my + word, and she knew him as well as I do, she would think scolding + would do little good upon him. She may perhaps call him half a + score knaves or so. Why, that's nothing; and he begin once, he'll + rail in his rope-tricks. I'll tell you what, sir: an she stand + him but a little, he will throw a figure in her face, and so + disfigure her with it that she shall have no more eyes to see + withal than a cat. You know him not, sir. + HORTENSIO. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee, + For in Baptista's keep my treasure is. + He hath the jewel of my life in hold, + His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca; + And her withholds from me, and other more, + Suitors to her and rivals in my love; + Supposing it a thing impossible- + For those defects I have before rehears'd- + That ever Katherina will be woo'd. + Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en, + That none shall have access unto Bianca + Till Katherine the curst have got a husband. + GRUMIO. Katherine the curst! + A title for a maid of all titles the worst. + HORTENSIO. Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace, + And offer me disguis'd in sober robes + To old Baptista as a schoolmaster + Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca; + That so I may by this device at least + Have leave and leisure to make love to her, + And unsuspected court her by herself. + + Enter GREMIO with LUCENTIO disguised as CAMBIO + + GRUMIO. Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, how the + young folks lay their heads together! Master, master, look about + you. Who goes there, ha? + HORTENSIO. Peace, Grumio! It is the rival of my love. Petruchio, + stand by awhile. + GRUMIO. A proper stripling, and an amorous! + [They stand aside] + GREMIO. O, very well; I have perus'd the note. + Hark you, sir; I'll have them very fairly bound- + All books of love, see that at any hand; + And see you read no other lectures to her. + You understand me- over and beside + Signior Baptista's liberality, + I'll mend it with a largess. Take your paper too, + And let me have them very well perfum'd; + For she is sweeter than perfume itself + To whom they go to. What will you read to her? + LUCENTIO. Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you + As for my patron, stand you so assur'd, + As firmly as yourself were still in place; + Yea, and perhaps with more successful words + Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir. + GREMIO. O this learning, what a thing it is! + GRUMIO. O this woodcock, what an ass it is! + PETRUCHIO. Peace, sirrah! + HORTENSIO. Grumio, mum! [Coming forward] + God save you, Signior Gremio! + GREMIO. And you are well met, Signior Hortensio. + Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola. + I promis'd to enquire carefully + About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca; + And by good fortune I have lighted well + On this young man; for learning and behaviour + Fit for her turn, well read in poetry + And other books- good ones, I warrant ye. + HORTENSIO. 'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman + Hath promis'd me to help me to another, + A fine musician to instruct our mistress; + So shall I no whit be behind in duty + To fair Bianca, so beloved of me. + GREMIO. Beloved of me- and that my deeds shall prove. + GRUMIO. And that his bags shall prove. + HORTENSIO. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love. + Listen to me, and if you speak me fair + I'll tell you news indifferent good for either. + Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met, + Upon agreement from us to his liking, + Will undertake to woo curst Katherine; + Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. + GREMIO. So said, so done, is well. + Hortensio, have you told him all her faults? + PETRUCHIO. I know she is an irksome brawling scold; + If that be all, masters, I hear no harm. + GREMIO. No, say'st me so, friend? What countryman? + PETRUCHIO. Born in Verona, old Antonio's son. + My father dead, my fortune lives for me; + And I do hope good days and long to see. + GREMIO. O Sir, such a life with such a wife were strange! + But if you have a stomach, to't a God's name; + You shall have me assisting you in all. + But will you woo this wild-cat? + PETRUCHIO. Will I live? + GRUMIO. Will he woo her? Ay, or I'll hang her. + PETRUCHIO. Why came I hither but to that intent? + Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? + Have I not in my time heard lions roar? + Have I not heard the sea, puff'd up with winds, + Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? + Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, + And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? + Have I not in a pitched battle heard + Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? + And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, + That gives not half so great a blow to hear + As will a chestnut in a fariner's fire? + Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. + GRUMIO. For he fears none. + GREMIO. Hortensio, hark: + This gentleman is happily arriv'd, + My mind presumes, for his own good and ours. + HORTENSIO. I promis'd we would be contributors + And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er. + GREMIO. And so we will- provided that he win her. + GRUMIO. I would I were as sure of a good dinner. + + Enter TRANIO, bravely apparelled as LUCENTIO, and BIONDELLO + + TRANIO. Gentlemen, God save you! If I may be bold, + Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way + To the house of Signior Baptista Minola? + BIONDELLO. He that has the two fair daughters; is't he you mean? + TRANIO. Even he, Biondello. + GREMIO. Hark you, sir, you mean not her to- + TRANIO. Perhaps him and her, sir; what have you to do? + PETRUCHIO. Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray. + TRANIO. I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let's away. + LUCENTIO. [Aside] Well begun, Tranio. + HORTENSIO. Sir, a word ere you go. + Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no? + TRANIO. And if I be, sir, is it any offence? + GREMIO. No; if without more words you will get you hence. + TRANIO. Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free + For me as for you? + GREMIO. But so is not she. + + TRANIO. For what reason, I beseech you? + GREMIO. For this reason, if you'll know, + That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio. + HORTENSIO. That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio. + TRANIO. Softly, my masters! If you be gentlemen, + Do me this right- hear me with patience. + Baptista is a noble gentleman, + To whom my father is not all unknown, + And, were his daughter fairer than she is, + She may more suitors have, and me for one. + Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers; + Then well one more may fair Bianca have; + And so she shall: Lucentio shall make one, + Though Paris came in hope to speed alone. + GREMIO. What, this gentleman will out-talk us all! + LUCENTIO. Sir, give him head; I know he'll prove a jade. + PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, to what end are all these words? + HORTENSIO. Sir, let me be so bold as ask you, + Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter? + TRANIO. No, sir, but hear I do that he hath two: + The one as famous for a scolding tongue + As is the other for beauteous modesty. + PETRUCHIO. Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by. + GREMIO. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules, + And let it be more than Alcides' twelve. + PETRUCHIO. Sir, understand you this of me, in sooth: + The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for, + Her father keeps from all access of suitors, + And will not promise her to any man + Until the elder sister first be wed. + The younger then is free, and not before. + TRANIO. If it be so, sir, that you are the man + Must stead us all, and me amongst the rest; + And if you break the ice, and do this feat, + Achieve the elder, set the younger free + For our access- whose hap shall be to have her + Will not so graceless be to be ingrate. + HORTENSIO. Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive; + And since you do profess to be a suitor, + You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman, + To whom we all rest generally beholding. + TRANIO. Sir, I shall not be slack; in sign whereof, + Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, + And quaff carouses to our mistress' health; + And do as adversaries do in law- + Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. + GRUMIO, BIONDELLO. O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone. + HORTENSIO. The motion's good indeed, and be it so. + Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT Il. SCENE I. +Padua. BAPTISTA'S house + +Enter KATHERINA and BIANCA + + BIANCA. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, + To make a bondmaid and a slave of me- + That I disdain; but for these other gawds, + Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself, + Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat; + Or what you will command me will I do, + So well I know my duty to my elders. + KATHERINA. Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell + Whom thou lov'st best. See thou dissemble not. + BIANCA. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive + I never yet beheld that special face + Which I could fancy more than any other. + KATHERINA. Minion, thou liest. Is't not Hortensio? + BIANCA. If you affect him, sister, here I swear + I'll plead for you myself but you shall have him. + KATHERINA. O then, belike, you fancy riches more: + You will have Gremio to keep you fair. + BIANCA. Is it for him you do envy me so? + Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive + You have but jested with me all this while. + I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands. + KATHERINA. [Strikes her] If that be jest, then an the rest was so. + + Enter BAPTISTA + + BAPTISTA. Why, how now, dame! Whence grows this insolence? + Bianca, stand aside- poor girl! she weeps. + [He unbinds her] + Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. + For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit, + Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee? + When did she cross thee with a bitter word? + KATHERINA. Her silence flouts me, and I'll be reveng'd. + [Flies after BIANCA] + BAPTISTA. What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in. + Exit BIANCA + KATHERINA. What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see + She is your treasure, she must have a husband; + I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day, + And for your love to her lead apes in hell. + Talk not to me; I will go sit and weep, + Till I can find occasion of revenge. Exit KATHERINA + BAPTISTA. Was ever gentleman thus griev'd as I? + But who comes here? + + Enter GREMIO, with LUCENTIO in the habit of a mean man; + PETRUCHIO, with HORTENSIO as a musician; and TRANIO, + as LUCENTIO, with his boy, BIONDELLO, bearing a lute and books + + GREMIO. Good morrow, neighbour Baptista. + BAPTISTA. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio. + God save you, gentlemen! + PETRUCHIO. And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter + Call'd Katherina, fair and virtuous? + BAPTISTA. I have a daughter, sir, call'd Katherina. + GREMIO. You are too blunt; go to it orderly. + PETRUCHIO. You wrong me, Signior Gremio; give me leave. + I am a gentleman of Verona, sir, + That, hearing of her beauty and her wit, + Her affability and bashful modesty, + Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour, + Am bold to show myself a forward guest + Within your house, to make mine eye the witness + Of that report which I so oft have heard. + And, for an entrance to my entertainment, + I do present you with a man of mine, + [Presenting HORTENSIO] + Cunning in music and the mathematics, + To instruct her fully in those sciences, + Whereof I know she is not ignorant. + Accept of him, or else you do me wrong- + His name is Licio, born in Mantua. + BAPTISTA. Y'are welcome, sir, and he for your good sake; + But for my daughter Katherine, this I know, + She is not for your turn, the more my grief. + PETRUCHIO. I see you do not mean to part with her; + Or else you like not of my company. + BAPTISTA. Mistake me not; I speak but as I find. + Whence are you, sir? What may I call your name? + PETRUCHIO. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's son, + A man well known throughout all Italy. + BAPTISTA. I know him well; you are welcome for his sake. + GREMIO. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, + Let us that are poor petitioners speak too. + Bacare! you are marvellous forward. + PETRUCHIO. O, pardon me, Signior Gremio! I would fain be doing. + GREMIO. I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your wooing. + Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. To + express the like kindness, myself, that have been more kindly + beholding to you than any, freely give unto you this young + scholar [Presenting LUCENTIO] that hath been long studying at + Rheims; as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the + other in music and mathematics. His name is Cambio. Pray accept + his service. + BAPTISTA. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. Welcome, good Cambio. + [To TRANIO] But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger. + May I be so bold to know the cause of your coming? + TRANIO. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own + That, being a stranger in this city here, + Do make myself a suitor to your daughter, + Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous. + Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me + In the preferment of the eldest sister. + This liberty is all that I request- + That, upon knowledge of my parentage, + I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo, + And free access and favour as the rest. + And toward the education of your daughters + I here bestow a simple instrument, + And this small packet of Greek and Latin books. + If you accept them, then their worth is great. + BAPTISTA. Lucentio is your name? Of whence, I pray? + TRANIO. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. + BAPTISTA. A mighty man of Pisa. By report + I know him well. You are very welcome, sir. + Take you the lute, and you the set of books; + You shall go see your pupils presently. + Holla, within! + + Enter a SERVANT + + Sirrah, lead these gentlemen + To my daughters; and tell them both + These are their tutors. Bid them use them well. + + Exit SERVANT leading HORTENSIO carrying the lute + and LUCENTIO with the books + + We will go walk a little in the orchard, + And then to dinner. You are passing welcome, + And so I pray you all to think yourselves. + PETRUCHIO. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste, + And every day I cannot come to woo. + You knew my father well, and in him me, + Left solely heir to all his lands and goods, + Which I have bettered rather than decreas'd. + Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love, + What dowry shall I have with her to wife? + BAPTISTA. After my death, the one half of my lands + And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns. + PETRUCHIO. And for that dowry, I'll assure her of + Her widowhood, be it that she survive me, + In all my lands and leases whatsoever. + Let specialities be therefore drawn between us, + That covenants may be kept on either hand. + BAPTISTA. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd, + That is, her love; for that is all in all. + PETRUCHIO. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father, + I am as peremptory as she proud-minded; + And where two raging fires meet together, + They do consume the thing that feeds their fury. + Though little fire grows great with little wind, + Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all. + So I to her, and so she yields to me; + For I am rough, and woo not like a babe. + BAPTISTA. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed + But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words. + PETRUCHIO. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds, + That shake not though they blow perpetually. + + Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broke + + BAPTISTA. How now, my friend! Why dost thou look so pale? + HORTENSIO. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. + BAPTISTA. What, will my daughter prove a good musician? + HORTENSIO. I think she'll sooner prove a soldier: + Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. + BAPTISTA. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? + HORTENSIO. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me. + I did but tell her she mistook her frets, + And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering, + When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, + 'Frets, call you these?' quoth she 'I'll fume with them.' + And with that word she struck me on the head, + And through the instrument my pate made way; + And there I stood amazed for a while, + As on a pillory, looking through the lute, + While she did call me rascal fiddler + And twangling Jack, with twenty such vile terms, + As she had studied to misuse me so. + PETRUCHIO. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; + I love her ten times more than e'er I did. + O, how I long to have some chat with her! + BAPTISTA. Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited; + Proceed in practice with my younger daughter; + She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns. + Signior Petruchio, will you go with us, + Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you? + PETRUCHIO. I pray you do. Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO + I'll attend her here, + And woo her with some spirit when she comes. + Say that she rail; why, then I'll tell her plain + She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. + Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear + As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. + Say she be mute, and will not speak a word; + Then I'll commend her volubility, + And say she uttereth piercing eloquence. + If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks, + As though she bid me stay by her a week; + If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day + When I shall ask the banns, and when be married. + But here she comes; :Lnd.now, Petruchio, speak. + + Enter KATHERINA + + Good morrow, Kate- for that's your name, I hear. + KATHERINA. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing: + They call me Katherine that do talk of me. + PETRUCHIO. You lie, in faith, for you are call'd plain Kate, + And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst; + But, Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, + Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, + For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate, + Take this of me, Kate of my consolation- + Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town, + Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, + Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, + Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife. + KATHERINA. Mov'd! in good time! Let him that mov'd you hither + Remove you hence. I knew you at the first + You were a moveable. + PETRUCHIO. Why, what's a moveable? + KATHERINA. A join'd-stool. + PETRUCHIO. Thou hast hit it. Come, sit on me. + KATHERINA. Asses are made to bear, and so are you. + PETRUCHIO. Women are made to bear, and so are you. + KATHERINA. No such jade as you, if me you mean. + PETRUCHIO. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee! + For, knowing thee to be but young and light- + KATHERINA. Too light for such a swain as you to catch; + And yet as heavy as my weight should be. + PETRUCHIO. Should be! should- buzz! + KATHERINA. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. + PETRUCHIO. O, slow-wing'd turtle, shall a buzzard take thee? + KATHERINA. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard. + PETRUCHIO. Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry. + KATHERINA. If I be waspish, best beware my sting. + PETRUCHIO. My remedy is then to pluck it out. + KATHERINA. Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies. + PETRUCHIO. Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? + In his tail. + KATHERINA. In his tongue. + PETRUCHIO. Whose tongue? + KATHERINA. Yours, if you talk of tales; and so farewell. + PETRUCHIO. What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, + Good Kate; I am a gentleman. + KATHERINA. That I'll try. [She strikes him] + PETRUCHIO. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again. + KATHERINA. So may you lose your arms. + If you strike me, you are no gentleman; + And if no gentleman, why then no arms. + PETRUCHIO. A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books! + KATHERINA. What is your crest- a coxcomb? + PETRUCHIO. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. + KATHERINA. No cock of mine: you crow too like a craven. + PETRUCHIO. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour. + KATHERINA. It is my fashion, when I see a crab. + PETRUCHIO. Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour. + KATHERINA. There is, there is. + PETRUCHIO. Then show it me. + KATHERINA. Had I a glass I would. + PETRUCHIO. What, you mean my face? + KATHERINA. Well aim'd of such a young one. + PETRUCHIO. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. + KATHERINA. Yet you are wither'd. + PETRUCHIO. 'Tis with cares. + KATHERINA. I care not. + PETRUCHIO. Nay, hear you, Kate- in sooth, you scape not so. + KATHERINA. I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go. + PETRUCHIO. No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle. + 'Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen, + And now I find report a very liar; + For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous, + But slow in speech, yet sweet as springtime flowers. + Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, + Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, + Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk; + But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers; + With gentle conference, soft and affable. + Why does the world report that Kate doth limp? + O sland'rous world! Kate like the hazel-twig + Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue + As hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels. + O, let me see thee walk. Thou dost not halt. + KATHERINA. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command. + PETRUCHIO. Did ever Dian so become a grove + As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? + O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate; + And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful! + KATHERINA. Where did you study all this goodly speech? + PETRUCHIO. It is extempore, from my mother wit. + KATHERINA. A witty mother! witless else her son. + PETRUCHIO. Am I not wise? + KATHERINA. Yes, keep you warm. + PETRUCHIO. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katherine, in thy bed. + And therefore, setting all this chat aside, + Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented + That you shall be my wife your dowry greed on; + And will you, nill you, I will marry you. + Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn; + For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, + Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well, + Thou must be married to no man but me; + For I am he am born to tame you, Kate, + And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate + Conformable as other household Kates. + + Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO + + Here comes your father. Never make denial; + I must and will have Katherine to my wife. + BAPTISTA. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter? + PETRUCHIO. How but well, sir? how but well? + It were impossible I should speed amiss. + BAPTISTA. Why, how now, daughter Katherine, in your dumps? + KATHERINA. Call you me daughter? Now I promise you + You have show'd a tender fatherly regard + To wish me wed to one half lunatic, + A mad-cap ruffian and a swearing Jack, + That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. + PETRUCHIO. Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world + That talk'd of her have talk'd amiss of her. + If she be curst, it is for policy, + For,she's not froward, but modest as the dove; + She is not hot, but temperate as the morn; + For patience she will prove a second Grissel, + And Roman Lucrece for her chastity. + And, to conclude, we have 'greed so well together + That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. + KATHERINA. I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first. + GREMIO. Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee hang'd first. + TRANIO. Is this your speeding? Nay, then good-night our part! + PETRUCHIO. Be patient, gentlemen. I choose her for myself; + If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you? + 'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone, + That she shall still be curst in company. + I tell you 'tis incredible to believe. + How much she loves me- O, the kindest Kate! + She hung about my neck, and kiss on kiss + She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath, + That in a twink she won me to her love. + O, you are novices! 'Tis a world to see, + How tame, when men and women are alone, + A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew. + Give me thy hand, Kate; I will unto Venice, + To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day. + Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests; + I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine. + BAPTISTA. I know not what to say; but give me your hands. + God send you joy, Petruchio! 'Tis a match. + GREMIO, TRANIO. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses. + PETRUCHIO. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu. + I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace; + We will have rings and things, and fine array; + And kiss me, Kate; we will be married a Sunday. + Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHERINA severally + GREMIO. Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly? + BAPTISTA. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part, + And venture madly on a desperate mart. + TRANIO. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you; + 'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. + BAPTISTA. The gain I seek is quiet in the match. + GREMIO. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch. + But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter: + Now is the day we long have looked for; + I am your neighbour, and was suitor first. + TRANIO. And I am one that love Bianca more + Than words can witness or your thoughts can guess. + GREMIO. Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I. + TRANIO. Greybeard, thy love doth freeze. + GREMIO. But thine doth fry. + Skipper, stand back; 'tis age that nourisheth. + TRANIO. But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth. + BAPTISTA. Content you, gentlemen; I will compound this strife. + 'Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of both + That can assure my daughter greatest dower + Shall have my Bianca's love. + Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her? + GREMIO. First, as you know, my house within the city + Is richly furnished with plate and gold, + Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands; + My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry; + In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns; + In cypress chests my arras counterpoints, + Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, + Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl, + Valance of Venice gold in needle-work; + Pewter and brass, and all things that belongs + To house or housekeeping. Then at my farm + I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, + Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls, + And all things answerable to this portion. + Myself am struck in years, I must confess; + And if I die to-morrow this is hers, + If whilst I live she will be only mine. + TRANIO. That 'only' came well in. Sir, list to me: + I am my father's heir and only son; + If I may have your daughter to my wife, + I'll leave her houses three or four as good + Within rich Pisa's walls as any one + Old Signior Gremio has in Padua; + Besides two thousand ducats by the year + Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. + What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio? + GREMIO. Two thousand ducats by the year of land! + [Aside] My land amounts not to so much in all.- + That she shall have, besides an argosy + That now is lying in Marseilles road. + What, have I chok'd you with an argosy? + TRANIO. Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less + Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses, + And twelve tight galleys. These I will assure her, + And twice as much whate'er thou off'rest next. + GREMIO. Nay, I have off'red all; I have no more; + And she can have no more than all I have; + If you like me, she shall have me and mine. + TRANIO. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world + By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied. + BAPTISTA. I must confess your offer is the best; + And let your father make her the assurance, + She is your own. Else, you must pardon me; + If you should die before him, where's her dower? + TRANIO. That's but a cavil; he is old, I young. + GREMIO. And may not young men die as well as old? + BAPTISTA. Well, gentlemen, + I am thus resolv'd: on Sunday next you know + My daughter Katherine is to be married; + Now, on the Sunday following shall Bianca + Be bride to you, if you make this assurance; + If not, to Signior Gremio. + And so I take my leave, and thank you both. + GREMIO. Adieu, good neighbour. Exit BAPTISTA + Now, I fear thee not. + Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool + To give thee all, and in his waning age + Set foot under thy table. Tut, a toy! + An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. Exit + TRANIO. A vengeance on your crafty withered hide! + Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten. + 'Tis in my head to do my master good: + I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio + Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Vincentio; + And that's a wonder- fathers commonly + Do get their children; but in this case of wooing + A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. + Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Padua. BAPTISTA'S house + +Enter LUCENTIO as CAMBIO, HORTENSIO as LICIO, and BIANCA + + LUCENTIO. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir. + Have you so soon forgot the entertainment + Her sister Katherine welcome'd you withal? + HORTENSIO. But, wrangling pedant, this is + The patroness of heavenly harmony. + Then give me leave to have prerogative; + And when in music we have spent an hour, + Your lecture shall have leisure for as much. + LUCENTIO. Preposterous ass, that never read so far + To know the cause why music was ordain'd! + Was it not to refresh the mind of man + After his studies or his usual pain? + Then give me leave to read philosophy, + And while I pause serve in your harmony. + HORTENSIO. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. + BIANCA. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong + To strive for that which resteth in my choice. + I arn no breeching scholar in the schools, + I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times, + But learn my lessons as I please myself. + And to cut off all strife: here sit we down; + Take you your instrument, play you the whiles! + His lecture will be done ere you have tun'd. + HORTENSIO. You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? + LUCENTIO. That will be never- tune your instrument. + BIANCA. Where left we last? + LUCENTIO. Here, madam: + 'Hic ibat Simois, hic est Sigeia tellus, + Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.' + BIANCA. Construe them. + LUCENTIO. 'Hic ibat' as I told you before- 'Simois' I am Lucentio- + 'hic est' son unto Vincentio of Pisa- 'Sigeia tellus' disguised + thus to get your love- 'Hic steterat' and that Lucentio that + comes a-wooing- 'Priami' is my man Tranio- 'regia' bearing my + port- 'celsa senis' that we might beguile the old pantaloon. + HORTENSIO. Madam, my instrument's in tune. + BIANCA. Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars. + LUCENTIO. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. + BIANCA. Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat Simois' I + know you not- 'hic est Sigeia tellus' I trust you not- 'Hic + steterat Priami' take heed he hear us not- 'regia' presume not- + 'celsa senis' despair not. + HORTENSIO. Madam, 'tis now in tune. + LUCENTIO. All but the bass. + HORTENSIO. The bass is right; 'tis the base knave that jars. + [Aside] How fiery and forward our pedant is! + Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love. + Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet. + BIANCA. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. + LUCENTIO. Mistrust it not- for sure, AEacides + Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather. + BIANCA. I must believe my master; else, I promise you, + I should be arguing still upon that doubt; + But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you. + Good master, take it not unkindly, pray, + That I have been thus pleasant with you both. + HORTENSIO. [To LUCENTIO] You may go walk and give me leave + awhile; + My lessons make no music in three Parts. + LUCENTIO. Are you so formal, sir? Well, I must wait, + [Aside] And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv'd, + Our fine musician groweth amorous. + HORTENSIO. Madam, before you touch the instrument + To learn the order of my fingering, + I must begin with rudiments of art, + To teach you gamut in a briefer sort, + More pleasant, pithy, and effectual, + Than hath been taught by any of my trade; + And there it is in writing fairly drawn. + BIANCA. Why, I am past my gamut long ago. + HORTENSIO. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. + BIANCA. [Reads] + '"Gamut" I am, the ground of all accord- + "A re" to plead Hortensio's passion- + "B mi" Bianca, take him for thy lord- + "C fa ut" that loves with all affection- + "D sol re" one clef, two notes have I- + "E la mi" show pity or I die.' + Call you this gamut? Tut, I like it not! + Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice + To change true rules for odd inventions. + + Enter a SERVANT + + SERVANT. Mistress, your father prays you leave your books + And help to dress your sister's chamber up. + You know to-morrow is the wedding-day. + BIANCA. Farewell, sweet masters, both; I must be gone. + Exeunt BIANCA and SERVANT + LUCENTIO. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. + Exit + HORTENSIO. But I have cause to pry into this pedant; + Methinks he looks as though he were in love. + Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble + To cast thy wand'ring eyes on every stale- + Seize thee that list. If once I find thee ranging, + HORTENSIO will be quit with thee by changing. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Padua. Before BAPTISTA'So house + +Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO as LUCENTIO, KATHERINA, BIANCA, +LUCENTIO as CAMBIO, and ATTENDANTS + + BAPTISTA. [To TRANIO] Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day + That Katherine and Petruchio should be married, + And yet we hear not of our son-in-law. + What will be said? What mockery will it be + To want the bridegroom when the priest attends + To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage! + What says Lucentio to this shame of ours? + KATHERINA. No shame but mine; I must, forsooth, be forc'd + To give my hand, oppos'd against my heart, + Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen, + Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure. + I told you, I, he was a frantic fool, + Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour; + And, to be noted for a merry man, + He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage, + Make friends invited, and proclaim the banns; + Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd. + Now must the world point at poor Katherine, + And say 'Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife, + If it would please him come and marry her!' + TRANIO. Patience, good Katherine, and Baptista too. + Upon my life, Petruchio means but well, + Whatever fortune stays him from his word. + Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise; + Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest. + KATHERINA. Would Katherine had never seen him though! + Exit, weeping, followed by BIANCA and others + BAPTISTA. Go, girl, I cannot blame thee now to weep, + For such an injury would vex a very saint; + Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour. + + Enter BIONDELLO + + Master, master! News, and such old news as you never heard of! + BAPTISTA. Is it new and old too? How may that be? + BIONDELLO. Why, is it not news to hear of Petruchio's coming? + BAPTISTA. Is he come? + BIONDELLO. Why, no, sir. + BAPTISTA. What then? + BIONDELLO. He is coming. + BAPTISTA. When will he be here? + BIONDELLO. When he stands where I am and sees you there. + TRANIO. But, say, what to thine old news? + BIONDELLO. Why, Petruchio is coming- in a new hat and an old + jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turn'd; a pair of boots + that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another lac'd; an old + rusty sword ta'en out of the town armoury, with a broken hilt, + and chapeless; with two broken points; his horse hipp'd, with an + old motley saddle and stirrups of no kindred; besides, possess'd + with the glanders and like to mose in the chine, troubled with + the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped + with spavins, rayed with the yellows, past cure of the fives, + stark spoil'd with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, sway'd in + the back and shoulder-shotten, near-legg'd before, and with a + half-cheek'd bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather which, + being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often + burst, and now repaired with knots; one girth six times piec'd, + and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her + name fairly set down in studs, and here and there piec'd with + pack-thread. + BAPTISTA. Who comes with him? + BIONDELLO. O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparison'd like + the horse- with a linen stock on one leg and a kersey boot-hose + on the other, gart'red with a red and blue list; an old hat, and + the humour of forty fancies prick'd in't for a feather; a + monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian + footboy or a gentleman's lackey. + TRANIO. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion; + Yet oftentimes lie goes but mean-apparell'd. + BAPTISTA. I am glad he's come, howsoe'er he comes. + BIONDELLO. Why, sir, he comes not. + BAPTISTA. Didst thou not say he comes? + BIONDELLO. Who? that Petruchio came? + BAPTISTA. Ay, that Petruchio came. + BIONDELLO. No, sir; I say his horse comes with him on his back. + BAPTISTA. Why, that's all one. + BIONDELLO. Nay, by Saint Jamy, + I hold you a penny, + A horse and a man + Is more than one, + And yet not many. + + Enter PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO + + PETRUCHIO. Come, where be these gallants? Who's at home? + BAPTISTA. You are welcome, sir. + PETRUCHIO. And yet I come not well. + BAPTISTA. And yet you halt not. + TRANIO. Not so well apparell'd + As I wish you were. + PETRUCHIO. Were it better, I should rush in thus. + But where is Kate? Where is my lovely bride? + How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown; + And wherefore gaze this goodly company + As if they saw some wondrous monument, + Some comet or unusual prodigy? + BAPTISTA. Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day. + First were we sad, fearing you would not come; + Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. + Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate, + An eye-sore to our solemn festival! + TRANIO. And tell us what occasion of import + Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife, + And sent you hither so unlike yourself? + PETRUCHIO. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear; + Sufficeth I am come to keep my word, + Though in some part enforced to digress, + Which at more leisure I will so excuse + As you shall well be satisfied withal. + But where is Kate? I stay too long from her; + The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church. + TRANIO. See not your bride in these unreverent robes; + Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine. + PETRUCHIO. Not I, believe me; thus I'll visit her. + BAPTISTA. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. + PETRUCHIO. Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' done with words; + To me she's married, not unto my clothes. + Could I repair what she will wear in me + As I can change these poor accoutrements, + 'Twere well for Kate and better for myself. + But what a fool am I to chat with you, + When I should bid good-morrow to my bride + And seal the title with a lovely kiss! + Exeunt PETRUCHIO and PETRUCHIO + TRANIO. He hath some meaning in his mad attire. + We will persuade him, be it possible, + To put on better ere he go to church. + BAPTISTA. I'll after him and see the event of this. + Exeunt BAPTISTA, GREMIO, BIONDELLO, and ATTENDENTS + TRANIO. But to her love concerneth us to ad + Her father's liking; which to bring to pass, + As I before imparted to your worship, + I am to get a man- whate'er he be + It skills not much; we'll fit him to our turn- + And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa, + And make assurance here in Padua + Of greater sums than I have promised. + So shall you quietly enjoy your hope + And marry sweet Bianca with consent. + LUCENTIO. Were it not that my fellow schoolmaster + Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, + 'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage; + Which once perform'd, let all the world say no, + I'll keep mine own despite of all the world. + TRANIO. That by degrees we mean to look into + And watch our vantage in this business; + We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio, + The narrow-prying father, Minola, + The quaint musician, amorous Licio- + All for my master's sake, Lucentio. + + Re-enter GREMIO + + Signior Gremio, came you from the church? + GREMIO. As willingly as e'er I came from school. + TRANIO. And is the bride and bridegroom coming home? + GREMIO. A bridegroom, say you? 'Tis a groom indeed, + A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. + TRANIO. Curster than she? Why, 'tis impossible. + GREMIO. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend. + TRANIO. Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam. + GREMIO. Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool, to him! + I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest + Should ask if Katherine should be his wife, + 'Ay, by gogs-wouns' quoth he, and swore so loud + That, all amaz'd, the priest let fall the book; + And as he stoop'd again to take it up, + This mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff + That down fell priest and book, and book and priest. + 'Now take them up,' quoth he 'if any list.' + TRANIO. What said the wench, when he rose again? + GREMIO. Trembled and shook, for why he stamp'd and swore + As if the vicar meant to cozen him. + But after many ceremonies done + He calls for wine: 'A health!' quoth he, as if + He had been abroad, carousing to his mates + After a storm; quaff'd off the muscadel, + And threw the sops all in the sexton's face, + Having no other reason + But that his beard grew thin and hungerly + And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking. + This done, he took the bride about the neck, + And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack + That at the parting all the church did echo. + And I, seeing this, came thence for very shame; + And after me, I know, the rout is coming. + Such a mad marriage never was before. + Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play. [Music plays] + + Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, BIANCA, BAPTISTA, HORTENSIO, + GRUMIO, and train + + PETRUCHIO. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains. + I know you think to dine with me to-day, + And have prepar'd great store of wedding cheer + But so it is- my haste doth call me hence, + And therefore here I mean to take my leave. + BAPTISTA. Is't possible you will away to-night? + PETRUCHIO. I must away to-day before night come. + Make it no wonder; if you knew my business, + You would entreat me rather go than stay. + And, honest company, I thank you all + That have beheld me give away myself + To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife. + Dine with my father, drink a health to me. + For I must hence; and farewell to you all. + TRANIO. Let us entreat you stay till after dinner. + PETRUCHIO. It may not be. + GREMIO. Let me entreat you. + PETRUCHIO. It cannot be. + KATHERINA. Let me entreat you. + PETRUCHIO. I am content. + KATHERINA. Are you content to stay? + PETRUCHIO. I am content you shall entreat me stay; + But yet not stay, entreat me how you can. + KATHERINA. Now, if you love me, stay. + PETRUCHIO. Grumio, my horse. + GRUMIO. Ay, sir, they be ready; the oats have eaten the horses. + KATHERINA. Nay, then, + Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day; + No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself. + The door is open, sir; there lies your way; + You may be jogging whiles your boots are green; + For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself. + 'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom + That take it on you at the first so roundly. + PETRUCHIO. O Kate, content thee; prithee be not angry. + KATHERINA. I will be angry; what hast thou to do? + Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure. + GREMIO. Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work. + KATHERINA. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner. + I see a woman may be made a fool + If she had not a spirit to resist. + PETRUCHIO. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command. + Obey the bride, you that attend on her; + Go to the feast, revel and domineer, + Carouse full measure to her maidenhead; + Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves. + But for my bonny Kate, she must with me. + Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret; + I will be master of what is mine own- + She is my goods, my chattels, she is my house, + My household stuff, my field, my barn, + My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing, + And here she stands; touch her whoever dare; + I'll bring mine action on the proudest he + That stops my way in Padua. Grumio, + Draw forth thy weapon; we are beset with thieves; + Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man. + Fear not, sweet wench; they shall not touch thee, Kate; + I'll buckler thee against a million. + Exeunt PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, and GRUMIO + BAPTISTA. Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones. + GREMIO. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing. + TRANIO. Of all mad matches, never was the like. + LUCENTIO. Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister? + BIANCA. That, being mad herself, she's madly mated. + GREMIO. I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. + BAPTISTA. Neighbours and friends, though bride and bridegroom wants + For to supply the places at the table, + You know there wants no junkets at the feast. + Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place; + And let Bianca take her sister's room. + TRANIO. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it? + BAPTISTA. She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let's go. + Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +PETRUCHIO'S country house + +Enter GRUMIO + + GRUMIO. Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and all + foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? Was ever man so ray'd? Was + ever man so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they are + coming after to warm them. Now were not I a little pot and soon + hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roof + of my mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire to + thaw me. But I with blowing the fire shall warm myself; for, + considering the weather, a taller man than I will take cold. + Holla, ho! Curtis! + + Enter CURTIS + + CURTIS. Who is that calls so coldly? + GRUMIO. A piece of ice. If thou doubt it, thou mayst slide from my + shoulder to my heel with no greater a run but my head and my + neck. A fire, good Curtis. + CURTIS. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio? + GRUMIO. O, ay, Curtis, ay; and therefore fire, fire; cast on no + water. + CURTIS. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported? + GRUMIO. She was, good Curtis, before this frost; but thou know'st + winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tam'd my old + master, and my new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis. + CURTIS. Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast. + GRUMIO. Am I but three inches? Why, thy horn is a foot, and so long + am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complain + on thee to our mistress, whose hand- she being now at hand- thou + shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot + office? + CURTIS. I prithee, good Grumio, tell me how goes the world? + GRUMIO. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and + therefore fire. Do thy duty, and have thy duty, for my master and + mistress are almost frozen to death. + CURTIS. There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news? + GRUMIO. Why, 'Jack boy! ho, boy!' and as much news as thou wilt. + CURTIS. Come, you are so full of cony-catching! + GRUMIO. Why, therefore, fire; for I have caught extreme cold. + Where's the cook? Is supper ready, the house trimm'd, rushes + strew'd, cobwebs swept, the serving-men in their new fustian, + their white stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on? + Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without, the carpets + laid, and everything in order? + CURTIS. All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news. + GRUMIO. First know my horse is tired; my master and mistress fall'n + out. + CURTIS. How? + GRUMIO. Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby hangs a + tale. + CURTIS. Let's ha't, good Grumio. + GRUMIO. Lend thine ear. + CURTIS. Here. + GRUMIO. There. [Striking him] + CURTIS. This 'tis to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. + GRUMIO. And therefore 'tis call'd a sensible tale; and this cuff + was but to knock at your car and beseech list'ning. Now I begin: + Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind my + mistress- + CURTIS. Both of one horse? + GRUMIO. What's that to thee? + CURTIS. Why, a horse. + GRUMIO. Tell thou the tale. But hadst thou not cross'd me, thou + shouldst have heard how her horse fell and she under her horse; + thou shouldst have heard in how miry a place, how she was + bemoil'd, how he left her with the horse upon her, how he beat me + because her horse stumbled, how she waded through the dirt to + pluck him off me, how he swore, how she pray'd that never pray'd + before, how I cried, how the horses ran away, how her bridle was + burst, how I lost my crupper- with many things of worthy memory, + which now shall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienc'd to + thy grave. + CURTIS. By this reck'ning he is more shrew than she. + GRUMIO. Ay, and that thou and the proudest of you all shall find + when he comes home. But what talk I of this? Call forth + Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop, and the + rest; let their heads be sleekly comb'd, their blue coats brush'd + and their garters of an indifferent knit; let them curtsy with + their left legs, and not presume to touch a hair of my mastcr's + horse-tail till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready? + CURTIS. They are. + GRUMIO. Call them forth. + CURTIS. Do you hear, ho? You must meet my master, to countenance my + mistress. + GRUMIO. Why, she hath a face of her own. + CURTIS. Who knows not that? + GRUMIO. Thou, it seems, that calls for company to countenance her. + CURTIS. I call them forth to credit her. + GRUMIO. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them. + + Enter four or five SERVINGMEN + + NATHANIEL. Welcome home, Grumio! + PHILIP. How now, Grumio! + JOSEPH. What, Grumio! + NICHOLAS. Fellow Grumio! + NATHANIEL. How now, old lad! + GRUMIO. Welcome, you!- how now, you!- what, you!- fellow, you!- and + thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce companions, is all ready, + and all things neat? + NATHANIEL. All things is ready. How near is our master? + GRUMIO. E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be not- + Cock's passion, silence! I hear my master. + + Enter PETRUCHIO and KATHERINA + + PETRUCHIO. Where be these knaves? What, no man at door + To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse! + Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip? + ALL SERVANTS. Here, here, sir; here, sir. + PETRUCHIO. Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! + You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms! + What, no attendance? no regard? no duty? + Where is the foolish knave I sent before? + GRUMIO. Here, sir; as foolish as I was before. + PETRUCHIO. YOU peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge! + Did I not bid thee meet me in the park + And bring along these rascal knaves with thee? + GRUMIO. Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made, + And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' th' heel; + There was no link to colour Peter's hat, + And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing; + There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory; + The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly; + Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you. + PETRUCHIO. Go, rascals, go and fetch my supper in. + Exeunt some of the SERVINGMEN + + [Sings] Where is the life that late I led? + Where are those- + + Sit down, Kate, and welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud! + + Re-enter SERVANTS with supper + + Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry. + Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when? + + [Sings] It was the friar of orders grey, + As he forth walked on his way- + + Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry; + Take that, and mend the plucking off the other. + [Strikes him] + Be merry, Kate. Some water, here, what, ho! + + Enter one with water + + Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence, + And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither: + Exit SERVINGMAN + One, Kate, that you must kiss and be acquainted with. + Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water? + Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily. + You whoreson villain! will you let it fall? [Strikes him] + KATHERINA. Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling. + PETRUCHIO. A whoreson, beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave! + Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach. + Will you give thanks, sweet Kate, or else shall I? + What's this? Mutton? + FIRST SERVANT. Ay. + PETRUCHIO. Who brought it? + PETER. I. + PETRUCHIO. 'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat. + What dogs are these? Where is the rascal cook? + How durst you villains bring it from the dresser + And serve it thus to me that love it not? + There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all; + [Throws the meat, etc., at them] + You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves! + What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight. + Exeunt SERVANTS + KATHERINA. I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet; + The meat was well, if you were so contented. + PETRUCHIO. I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away, + And I expressly am forbid to touch it; + For it engenders choler, planteth anger; + And better 'twere that both of us did fast, + Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric, + Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh. + Be patient; to-morrow 't shall be mended. + And for this night we'll fast for company. + Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. Exeunt + + Re-enter SERVANTS severally + + NATHANIEL. Peter, didst ever see the like? + PETER. He kills her in her own humour. + + Re-enter CURTIS + + GRUMIO. Where is he? + CURTIS. In her chamber. Making a sermon of continency to her, + And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul, + Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak. + And sits as one new risen from a dream. + Away, away! for he is coming hither. Exeunt + + Re-enter PETRUCHIO + + PETRUCHIO. Thus have I politicly begun my reign, + And 'tis my hope to end successfully. + My falcon now is sharp and passing empty. + And till she stoop she must not be full-gorg'd, + For then she never looks upon her lure. + Another way I have to man my haggard, + To make her come, and know her keeper's call, + That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites + That bate and beat, and will not be obedient. + She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat; + Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not; + As with the meat, some undeserved fault + I'll find about the making of the bed; + And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster, + This way the coverlet, another way the sheets; + Ay, and amid this hurly I intend + That all is done in reverend care of her- + And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night; + And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl + And with the clamour keep her still awake. + This is a way to kill a wife with kindness, + And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour. + He that knows better how to tame a shrew, + Now let him speak; 'tis charity to show. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house + +Enter TRANIO as LUCENTIO, and HORTENSIO as LICIO + + TRANIO. Is 't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca + Doth fancy any other but Lucentio? + I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand. + HORTENSIO. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said, + Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching. + [They stand aside] + + Enter BIANCA, and LUCENTIO as CAMBIO + + LUCENTIO. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read? + BIANCA. What, master, read you, First resolve me that. + LUCENTIO. I read that I profess, 'The Art to Love.' + BIANCA. And may you prove, sir, master of your art! + LUCENTIO. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart. + [They retire] + HORTENSIO. Quick proceeders, marry! Now tell me, I pray, + You that durst swear that your Mistress Blanca + Lov'd none in the world so well as Lucentio. + TRANIO. O despiteful love! unconstant womankind! + I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful. + HORTENSIO. Mistake no more; I am not Licio. + Nor a musician as I seem to be; + But one that scorn to live in this disguise + For such a one as leaves a gentleman + And makes a god of such a cullion. + Know, sir, that I am call'd Hortensio. + TRANIO. Signior Hortensio, I have often heard + Of your entire affection to Bianca; + And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness, + I will with you, if you be so contented, + Forswear Bianca and her love for ever. + HORTENSIO. See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio, + Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow + Never to woo her more, but do forswear her, + As one unworthy all the former favours + That I have fondly flatter'd her withal. + TRANIO. And here I take the like unfeigned oath, + Never to marry with her though she would entreat; + Fie on her! See how beastly she doth court him! + HORTENSIO. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn! + For me, that I may surely keep mine oath, + I will be married to a wealtlly widow + Ere three days pass, which hath as long lov'd me + As I have lov'd this proud disdainful haggard. + And so farewell, Signior Lucentio. + Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, + Shall win my love; and so I take my leave, + In resolution as I swore before. Exit + TRANIO. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace + As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case! + Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love, + And have forsworn you with Hortensio. + BIANCA. Tranio, you jest; but have you both forsworn me? + TRANIO. Mistress, we have. + LUCENTIO. Then we are rid of Licio. + TRANIO. I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now, + That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day. + BIANCA. God give him joy! + TRANIO. Ay, and he'll tame her. + BIANCA. He says so, Tranio. + TRANIO. Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school. + BIANCA. The taming-school! What, is there such a place? + TRANIO. Ay, mistress; and Petruchio is the master, + That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, + To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue. + + Enter BIONDELLO + + BIONDELLO. O master, master, have watch'd so long + That I am dog-weary; but at last I spied + An ancient angel coming down the hill + Will serve the turn. + TRANIO. What is he, Biondello? + BIONDELLO. Master, a mercatante or a pedant, + I know not what; but formal in apparel, + In gait and countenance surely like a father. + LUCENTIO. And what of him, Tranio? + TRANIO. If he be credulous and trust my tale, + I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio, + And give assurance to Baptista Minola + As if he were the right Vincentio. + Take in your love, and then let me alone. + Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA + + Enter a PEDANT + + PEDANT. God save you, sir! + TRANIO. And you, sir; you are welcome. + Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest? + PEDANT. Sir, at the farthest for a week or two; + But then up farther, and as far as Rome; + And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life. + TRANIO. What countryman, I pray? + PEDANT. Of Mantua. + TRANIO. Of Mantua, sir? Marry, God forbid, + And come to Padua, careless of your life! + PEDANT. My life, sir! How, I pray? For that goes hard. + TRANIO. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua + To come to Padua. Know you not the cause? + Your ships are stay'd at Venice; and the Duke, + For private quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him, + Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly. + 'Tis marvel- but that you are but newly come, + You might have heard it else proclaim'd about. + PEDANT. Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so! + For I have bills for money by exchange + From Florence, and must here deliver them. + TRANIO. Well, sir, to do you courtesy, + This will I do, and this I will advise you- + First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa? + PEDANT. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been, + Pisa renowned for grave citizens. + TRANIO. Among them know you one Vincentio? + PEDANT. I know him not, but I have heard of him, + A merchant of incomparable wealth. + TRANIO. He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, + In count'nance somewhat doth resemble you. + BIONDELLO. [Aside] As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all + one. + TRANIO. To save your life in this extremity, + This favour will I do you for his sake; + And think it not the worst of all your fortunes + That you are like to Sir Vincentio. + His name and credit shall you undertake, + And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd; + Look that you take upon you as you should. + You understand me, sir. So shall you stay + Till you have done your business in the city. + If this be court'sy, sir, accept of it. + PEDANT. O, sir, I do; and will repute you ever + The patron of my life and liberty. + TRANIO. Then go with me to make the matter good. + This, by the way, I let you understand: + My father is here look'd for every day + To pass assurance of a dow'r in marriage + 'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here. + In all these circumstances I'll instruct you. + Go with me to clothe you as becomes you. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +PETRUCHIO'S house + +Enter KATHERINA and GRUMIO + + GRUMIO. No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life. + KATHERINA. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears. + What, did he marry me to famish me? + Beggars that come unto my father's door + Upon entreaty have a present alms; + If not, elsewhere they meet with charity; + But I, who never knew how to entreat, + Nor never needed that I should entreat, + Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep; + With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed; + And that which spites me more than all these wants- + He does it under name of perfect love; + As who should say, if I should sleep or eat, + 'Twere deadly sickness or else present death. + I prithee go and get me some repast; + I care not what, so it be wholesome food. + GRUMIO. What say you to a neat's foot? + KATHERINA. 'Tis passing good; I prithee let me have it. + GRUMIO. I fear it is too choleric a meat. + How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd? + KATHERINA. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me. + GRUMIO. I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric. + What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? + KATHERINA. A dish that I do love to feed upon. + GRUMIO. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. + KATHERINA. Why then the beef, and let the mustard rest. + GRUMIO. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard, + Or else you get no beef of Grumio. + KATHERINA. Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt. + GRUMIO. Why then the mustard without the beef. + KATHERINA. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, + [Beats him] + That feed'st me with the very name of meat. + Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you + That triumph thus upon my misery! + Go, get thee gone, I say. + + Enter PETRUCHIO, and HORTENSIO with meat + + PETRUCHIO. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort? + HORTENSIO. Mistress, what cheer? + KATHERINA. Faith, as cold as can be. + PETRUCHIO. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me. + Here, love, thou seest how diligent I am, + To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee. + I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. + What, not a word? Nay, then thou lov'st it not, + And all my pains is sorted to no proof. + Here, take away this dish. + KATHERINA. I pray you, let it stand. + PETRUCHIO. The poorest service is repaid with thanks; + And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. + KATHERINA. I thank you, sir. + HORTENSIO. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame. + Come, Mistress Kate, I'll bear you company. + PETRUCHIO. [Aside] Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me.- + Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! + Kate, eat apace. And now, my honey love, + Will we return unto thy father's house + And revel it as bravely as the best, + With silken coats and caps, and golden rings, + With ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and things, + With scarfs and fans and double change of brav'ry. + With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knav'ry. + What, hast thou din'd? The tailor stays thy leisure, + To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure. + + Enter TAILOR + + Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments; + Lay forth the gown. + + Enter HABERDASHER + + What news with you, sir? + HABERDASHER. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. + PETRUCHIO. Why, this was moulded on a porringer; + A velvet dish. Fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy; + Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell, + A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap. + Away with it. Come, let me have a bigger. + KATHERINA. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time, + And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. + PETRUCHIO. When you are gentle, you shall have one too, + And not till then. + HORTENSIO. [Aside] That will not be in haste. + KATHERINA. Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak; + And speak I will. I am no child, no babe. + Your betters have endur'd me say my mind, + And if you cannot, best you stop your ears. + My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, + Or else my heart, concealing it, will break; + And rather than it shall, I will be free + Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. + PETRUCHIO. Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap, + A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie; + I love thee well in that thou lik'st it not. + KATHERINA. Love me or love me not, I like the cap; + And it I will have, or I will have none. Exit HABERDASHER + PETRUCHIO. Thy gown? Why, ay. Come, tailor, let us see't. + O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here? + What's this? A sleeve? 'Tis like a demi-cannon. + What, up and down, carv'd like an appletart? + Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash, + Like to a censer in a barber's shop. + Why, what a devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this? + HORTENSIO. [Aside] I see she's like to have neither cap nor gown. + TAILOR. You bid me make it orderly and well, + According to the fashion and the time. + PETRUCHIO. Marry, and did; but if you be rememb'red, + I did not bid you mar it to the time. + Go, hop me over every kennel home, + For you shall hop without my custom, sir. + I'll none of it; hence! make your best of it. + KATHERINA. I never saw a better fashion'd gown, + More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable; + Belike you mean to make a puppet of me. + PETRUCHIO. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee. + TAILOR. She says your worship means to make a puppet of her. + PETRUCHIO. O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, thou + thimble, + Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail, + Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou- + Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread! + Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant; + Or I shall so bemete thee with thy yard + As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st! + I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown. + TAILOR. Your worship is deceiv'd; the gown is made + Just as my master had direction. + Grumio gave order how it should be done. + GRUMIO. I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff. + TAILOR. But how did you desire it should be made? + GRUMIO. Marry, sir, with needle and thread. + TAILOR. But did you not request to have it cut? + GRUMIO. Thou hast fac'd many things. + TAILOR. I have. + GRUMIO. Face not me. Thou hast brav'd many men; brave not me. I + will neither be fac'd nor brav'd. I say unto thee, I bid thy + master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces. + Ergo, thou liest. + TAILOR. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify. + PETRUCHIO. Read it. + GRUMIO. The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so. + TAILOR. [Reads] 'Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown'- + GRUMIO. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in the + skirts of it and beat me to death with a bottom of brown bread; I + said a gown. + PETRUCHIO. Proceed. + TAILOR. [Reads] 'With a small compass'd cape'- + GRUMIO. I confess the cape. + TAILOR. [Reads] 'With a trunk sleeve'- + GRUMIO. I confess two sleeves. + TAILOR. [Reads] 'The sleeves curiously cut.' + PETRUCHIO. Ay, there's the villainy. + GRUMIO. Error i' th' bill, sir; error i' th' bill! I commanded the + sleeves should be cut out, and sew'd up again; and that I'll + prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble. + TAILOR. This is true that I say; an I had thee in place where, thou + shouldst know it. + GRUMIO. I am for thee straight; take thou the bill, give me thy + meteyard, and spare not me. + HORTENSIO. God-a-mercy, Grumio! Then he shall have no odds. + PETRUCHIO. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. + GRUMIO. You are i' th' right, sir; 'tis for my mistress. + PETRUCHIO. Go, take it up unto thy master's use. + GRUMIO. Villain, not for thy life! Take up my mistress' gown for + thy master's use! + PETRUCHIO. Why, sir, what's your conceit in that? + GRUMIO. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for. + Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use! + O fie, fie, fie! + PETRUCHIO. [Aside] Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid.- + Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more. + HORTENSIO. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow; + Take no unkindness of his hasty words. + Away, I say; commend me to thy master. Exit TAILOR + PETRUCHIO. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's + Even in these honest mean habiliments; + Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor; + For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich; + And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, + So honour peereth in the meanest habit. + What, is the jay more precious than the lark + Because his feathers are more beautiful? + Or is the adder better than the eel + Because his painted skin contents the eye? + O no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse + For this poor furniture and mean array. + If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me; + And therefore frolic; we will hence forthwith + To feast and sport us at thy father's house. + Go call my men, and let us straight to him; + And bring our horses unto Long-lane end; + There will we mount, and thither walk on foot. + Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock, + And well we may come there by dinner-time. + KATHERINA. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two, + And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there. + PETRUCHIO. It shall be seven ere I go to horse. + Look what I speak, or do, or think to do, + You are still crossing it. Sirs, let 't alone; + I will not go to-day; and ere I do, + It shall be what o'clock I say it is. + HORTENSIO. Why, so this gallant will command the sun. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house + +Enter TRANIO as LUCENTIO, and the PEDANT dressed like VINCENTIO + + TRANIO. Sir, this is the house; please it you that I call? + PEDANT. Ay, what else? And, but I be deceived, + Signior Baptista may remember me + Near twenty years ago in Genoa, + Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus. + TRANIO. 'Tis well; and hold your own, in any case, + With such austerity as longeth to a father. + + Enter BIONDELLO + + PEDANT. I warrant you. But, sir, here comes your boy; + 'Twere good he were school'd. + TRANIO. Fear you not him. Sirrah Biondello, + Now do your duty throughly, I advise you. + Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio. + BIONDELLO. Tut, fear not me. + TRANIO. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista? + BIONDELLO. I told him that your father was at Venice, + And that you look'd for him this day in Padua. + TRANIO. Th'art a tall fellow; hold thee that to drink. + Here comes Baptista. Set your countenance, sir. + + Enter BAPTISTA, and LUCENTIO as CAMBIO + + Signior Baptista, you are happily met. + [To To the PEDANT] Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of; + I pray you stand good father to me now; + Give me Bianca for my patrimony. + PEDANT. Soft, son! + Sir, by your leave: having come to Padua + To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio + Made me acquainted with a weighty cause + Of love between your daughter and himself; + And- for the good report I hear of you, + And for the love he beareth to your daughter, + And she to him- to stay him not too long, + I am content, in a good father's care, + To have him match'd; and, if you please to like + No worse than I, upon some agreement + Me shall you find ready and willing + With one consent to have her so bestow'd; + For curious I cannot be with you, + Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well. + BAPTISTA. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say. + Your plainness and your shortness please me well. + Right true it is your son Lucentio here + Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him, + Or both dissemble deeply their affections; + And therefore, if you say no more than this, + That like a father you will deal with him, + And pass my daughter a sufficient dower, + The match is made, and all is done- + Your son shall have my daughter with consent. + TRANIO. I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best + We be affied, and such assurance ta'en + As shall with either part's agreement stand? + BAPTISTA. Not in my house, Lucentio, for you know + Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants; + Besides, old Gremio is heark'ning still, + And happily we might be interrupted. + TRANIO. Then at my lodging, an it like you. + There doth my father lie; and there this night + We'll pass the business privately and well. + Send for your daughter by your servant here; + My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. + The worst is this, that at so slender warning + You are like to have a thin and slender pittance. + BAPTISTA. It likes me well. Cambio, hie you home, + And bid Bianca make her ready straight; + And, if you will, tell what hath happened- + Lucentio's father is arriv'd in Padua, + And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife. Exit LUCENTIO + BIONDELLO. I pray the gods she may, with all my heart. + TRANIO. Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone. + Exit BIONDELLO + Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way? + Welcome! One mess is like to be your cheer; + Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa. + BAPTISTA. I follow you. Exeunt + + Re-enter LUCENTIO as CAMBIO, and BIONDELLO + + BIONDELLO. Cambio. + LUCENTIO. What say'st thou, Biondello? + BIONDELLO. You saw my master wink and laugh upon you? + LUCENTIO. Biondello, what of that? + BIONDELLO. Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind to expound + the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens. + LUCENTIO. I pray thee moralize them. + BIONDELLO. Then thus: Baptista is safe, talking with the deceiving + father of a deceitful son. + LUCENTIO. And what of him? + BIONDELLO. His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper. + LUCENTIO. And then? + BIONDELLO. The old priest at Saint Luke's church is at your command + at all hours. + LUCENTIO. And what of all this? + BIONDELLO. I cannot tell, except they are busied about a + counterfeit assurance. Take your assurance of her, cum privilegio + ad imprimendum solum; to th' church take the priest, clerk, and + some sufficient honest witnesses. + If this be not that you look for, I have more to say, + But bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day. + LUCENTIO. Hear'st thou, Biondello? + BIONDELLO. I cannot tarry. I knew a wench married in an afternoon + as she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit; and so + may you, sir; and so adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me to + go to Saint Luke's to bid the priest be ready to come against you + come with your appendix. + Exit + LUCENTIO. I may and will, if she be so contented. + She will be pleas'd; then wherefore should I doubt? + Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her; + It shall go hard if Cambio go without her. Exit + + + + +SCENE V. +A public road + +Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, HORTENSIO, and SERVANTS + + PETRUCHIO. Come on, a God's name; once more toward our father's. + Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon! + KATHERINA. The moon? The sun! It is not moonlight now. + PETRUCHIO. I say it is the moon that shines so bright. + KATHERINA. I know it is the sun that shines so bright. + PETRUCHIO. Now by my mother's son, and that's myself, + It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, + Or ere I journey to your father's house. + Go on and fetch our horses back again. + Evermore cross'd and cross'd; nothing but cross'd! + HORTENSIO. Say as he says, or we shall never go. + KATHERINA. Forward, I pray, since we have come so far, + And be it moon, or sun, or what you please; + And if you please to call it a rush-candle, + Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me. + PETRUCHIO. I say it is the moon. + KATHERINA. I know it is the moon. + PETRUCHIO. Nay, then you lie; it is the blessed sun. + KATHERINA. Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun; + But sun it is not, when you say it is not; + And the moon changes even as your mind. + What you will have it nam'd, even that it is, + And so it shall be so for Katherine. + HORTENSIO. Petruchio, go thy ways, the field is won. + PETRUCHIO. Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run, + And not unluckily against the bias. + But, soft! Company is coming here. + + Enter VINCENTIO + + [To VINCENTIO] Good-morrow, gentle mistress; where away?- + Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, + Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? + Such war of white and red within her cheeks! + What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty + As those two eyes become that heavenly face? + Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee. + Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake. + HORTENSIO. 'A will make the man mad, to make a woman of him. + KATHERINA. Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet, + Whither away, or where is thy abode? + Happy the parents of so fair a child; + Happier the man whom favourable stars + Allots thee for his lovely bed-fellow. + PETRUCHIO. Why, how now, Kate, I hope thou art not mad! + This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, withered, + And not a maiden, as thou sayst he is. + KATHERINA. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, + That have been so bedazzled with the sun + That everything I look on seemeth green; + Now I perceive thou art a reverend father. + Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. + PETRUCHIO. Do, good old grandsire, and withal make known + Which way thou travellest- if along with us, + We shall be joyful of thy company. + VINCENTIO. Fair sir, and you my merry mistress, + That with your strange encounter much amaz'd me, + My name is call'd Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa, + And bound I am to Padua, there to visit + A son of mine, which long I have not seen. + PETRUCHIO. What is his name? + VINCENTIO. Lucentio, gentle sir. + PETRUCHIO. Happily met; the happier for thy son. + And now by law, as well as reverend age, + I may entitle thee my loving father: + The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman, + Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not, + Nor be not grieved- she is of good esteem, + Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth; + Beside, so qualified as may beseem + The spouse of any noble gentleman. + Let me embrace with old Vincentio; + And wander we to see thy honest son, + Who will of thy arrival be full joyous. + VINCENTIO. But is this true; or is it else your pleasure, + Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest + Upon the company you overtake? + HORTENSIO. I do assure thee, father, so it is. + PETRUCHIO. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; + For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. + Exeunt all but HORTENSIO + HORTENSIO. Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart. + Have to my widow; and if she be froward, + Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Padua. Before LUCENTIO'S house + +Enter BIONDELLO, LUCENTIO, and BIANCA; GREMIO is out before + + BIONDELLO. Softly and swiftly, sir, for the priest is ready. + LUCENTIO. I fly, Biondello; but they may chance to need the at + home, therefore leave us. + BIONDELLO. Nay, faith, I'll see the church a your back, and then + come back to my master's as soon as I can. + Exeunt LUCENTIO, BIANCA, and BIONDELLO + GREMIO. I marvel Cambio comes not all this while. + + Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, VINCENTIO, GRUMIO, + and ATTENDANTS + + PETRUCHIO. Sir, here's the door; this is Lucentio's house; + My father's bears more toward the market-place; + Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir. + VINCENTIO. You shall not choose but drink before you go; + I think I shall command your welcome here, + And by all likelihood some cheer is toward. [Knocks] + GREMIO. They're busy within; you were best knock louder. + [PEDANT looks out of the window] + PEDANT. What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate? + VINCENTIO. Is Signior Lucentio within, sir? + PEDANT. He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal. + VINCENTIO. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two to make + merry withal? + PEDANT. Keep your hundred pounds to yourself; he shall need none so + long as I live. + PETRUCHIO. Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua. Do + you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances, I pray you tell + Signior Lucentio that his father is come from Pisa, and is here + at the door to speak with him. + PEDANT. Thou liest: his father is come from Padua, and here looking + out at the window. + VINCENTIO. Art thou his father? + PEDANT. Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her. + PETRUCHIO. [To VINCENTIO] Why, how now, gentleman! + Why, this is flat knavery to take upon you another man's name. + PEDANT. Lay hands on the villain; I believe 'a means to cozen + somebody in this city under my countenance. + + Re-enter BIONDELLO + + BIONDELLO. I have seen them in the church together. God send 'em + good shipping! But who is here? Mine old master, Vicentio! Now we + are undone and brought to nothing. + VINCENTIO. [Seeing BIONDELLO] Come hither, crack-hemp. + BIONDELLO. I hope I may choose, sir. + VINCENTIO. Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me? + BIONDELLO. Forgot you! No, sir. I could not forget you, for I never + saw you before in all my life. + VINCENTIO. What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see thy + master's father, Vincentio? + BIONDELLO. What, my old worshipful old master? Yes, marry, sir; see + where he looks out of the window. + VINCENTIO. Is't so, indeed? [He beats BIONDELLO] + BIONDELLO. Help, help, help! Here's a madman will murder me. + Exit + PEDANT. Help, son! help, Signior Baptista! Exit from above + PETRUCHIO. Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside and see the end of this + controversy. [They stand aside] + + Re-enter PEDANT below; BAPTISTA, TRANIO, and SERVANTS + + TRANIO. Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant? + VINCENTIO. What am I, sir? Nay, what are you, sir? O immortal gods! + O fine villain! A silken doublet, a velvet hose, a scarlet cloak, + and a copatain hat! O, I am undone! I am undone! While I play the + good husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at the + university. + TRANIO. How now! what's the matter? + BAPTISTA. What, is the man lunatic? + TRANIO. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your habit, but + your words show you a madman. Why, sir, what 'cerns it you if I + wear pearl and gold? I thank my good father, I am able to + maintain it. + VINCENTIO. Thy father! O villain! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo. + BAPTISTA. You mistake, sir; you mistake, sir. Pray, what do you + think is his name? + VINCENTIO. His name! As if I knew not his name! I have brought him + up ever since he was three years old, and his name is Tranio. + PEDANT. Away, away, mad ass! His name is Lucentio; and he is mine + only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vicentio. + VINCENTIO. Lucentio! O, he hath murd'red his master! Lay hold on + him, I charge you, in the Duke's name. O, my son, my son! Tell + me, thou villain, where is my son, Lucentio? + TRANIO. Call forth an officer. + + Enter one with an OFFICER + + Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista, I charge you + see that he be forthcoming. + VINCENTIO. Carry me to the gaol! + GREMIO. Stay, Officer; he shall not go to prison. + BAPTISTA. Talk not, Signior Gremio; I say he shall go to prison. + GREMIO. Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be cony-catch'd in + this business; I dare swear this is the right Vincentio. + PEDANT. Swear if thou dar'st. + GREMIO. Nay, I dare not swear it. + TRANIO. Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio. + GREMIO. Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio. + BAPTISTA. Away with the dotard; to the gaol with him! + VINCENTIO. Thus strangers may be hal'd and abus'd. O monstrous + villain! + + Re-enter BIONDELLO, with LUCENTIO and BIANCA + + BIONDELLO. O, we are spoil'd; and yonder he is! Deny him, forswear + him, or else we are all undone. + Exeunt BIONDELLO, TRANIO, and PEDANT, as fast as may be + LUCENTIO. [Kneeling] Pardon, sweet father. + VINCENTIO. Lives my sweet son? + BIANCA. Pardon, dear father. + BAPTISTA. How hast thou offended? + Where is Lucentio? + LUCENTIO. Here's Lucentio, + Right son to the right Vincentio, + That have by marriage made thy daughter mine, + While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eyne. + GREMIO. Here's packing, with a witness, to deceive us all! + VINCENTIO. Where is that damned villain, Tranio, + That fac'd and brav'd me in this matter so? + BAPTISTA. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio? + BIANCA. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio. + LUCENTIO. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love + Made me exchange my state with Tranio, + While he did bear my countenance in the town; + And happily I have arrived at the last + Unto the wished haven of my bliss. + What Tranio did, myself enforc'd him to; + Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. + VINCENTIO. I'll slit the villain's nose that would have sent me to + the gaol. + BAPTISTA. [To LUCENTIO] But do you hear, sir? Have you married my + daughter without asking my good will? + VINCENTIO. Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, go to; but I + will in to be revenged for this villainy. Exit + BAPTISTA. And I to sound the depth of this knavery. Exit + LUCENTIO. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. + Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA + GREMIO. My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest; + Out of hope of all but my share of the feast. Exit + KATHERINA. Husband, let's follow to see the end of this ado. + PETRUCHIO. First kiss me, Kate, and we will. + KATHERINA. What, in the midst of the street? + PETRUCHIO. What, art thou asham'd of me? + KATHERINA. No, sir; God forbid; but asham'd to kiss. + PETRUCHIO. Why, then, let's home again. Come, sirrah, let's away. + KATHERINA. Nay, I will give thee a kiss; now pray thee, love, stay. + PETRUCHIO. Is not this well? Come, my sweet Kate: + Better once than never, for never too late. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +LUCENTIO'S house + +Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the PEDANT, LUCENTIO, BIANCA, +PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, HORTENSIO, and WIDOW. The SERVINGMEN with TRANIO, +BIONDELLO, and GRUMIO, bringing in a banquet + + LUCENTIO. At last, though long, our jarring notes agree; + And time it is when raging war is done + To smile at scapes and perils overblown. + My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome, + While I with self-same kindness welcome thine. + Brother Petruchio, sister Katherina, + And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, + Feast with the best, and welcome to my house. + My banquet is to close our stomachs up + After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down; + For now we sit to chat as well as eat. [They sit] + PETRUCHIO. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat! + BAPTISTA. Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio. + PETRUCHIO. Padua affords nothing but what is kind. + HORTENSIO. For both our sakes I would that word were true. + PETRUCHIO. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow. + WIDOW. Then never trust me if I be afeard. + PETRUCHIO. YOU are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense: + I mean Hortensio is afeard of you. + WIDOW. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. + PETRUCHIO. Roundly replied. + KATHERINA. Mistress, how mean you that? + WIDOW. Thus I conceive by him. + PETRUCHIO. Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that? + HORTENSIO. My widow says thus she conceives her tale. + PETRUCHIO. Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow. + KATHERINA. 'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.' + I pray you tell me what you meant by that. + WIDOW. Your husband, being troubled with a shrew, + Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe; + And now you know my meaning. + KATHERINA. A very mean meaning. + WIDOW. Right, I mean you. + KATHERINA. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you. + PETRUCHIO. To her, Kate! + HORTENSIO. To her, widow! + PETRUCHIO. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. + HORTENSIO. That's my office. + PETRUCHIO. Spoke like an officer- ha' to thee, lad. + [Drinks to HORTENSIO] + BAPTISTA. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? + GREMIO. Believe me, sir, they butt together well. + BIANCA. Head and butt! An hasty-witted body + Would say your head and butt were head and horn. + VINCENTIO. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awakened you? + BIANCA. Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again. + PETRUCHIO. Nay, that you shall not; since you have begun, + Have at you for a bitter jest or two. + BIANCA. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush, + And then pursue me as you draw your bow. + You are welcome all. + Exeunt BIANCA, KATHERINA, and WIDOW + PETRUCHIO. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio, + This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not; + Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd. + TRANIO. O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound, + Which runs himself, and catches for his master. + PETRUCHIO. A good swift simile, but something currish. + TRANIO. 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself; + 'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay. + BAPTISTA. O, O, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now. + LUCENTIO. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. + HORTENSIO. Confess, confess; hath he not hit you here? + PETRUCHIO. 'A has a little gall'd me, I confess; + And, as the jest did glance away from me, + 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. + BAPTISTA. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, + I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. + PETRUCHIO. Well, I say no; and therefore, for assurance, + Let's each one send unto his wife, + And he whose wife is most obedient, + To come at first when he doth send for her, + Shall win the wager which we will propose. + HORTENSIO. Content. What's the wager? + LUCENTIO. Twenty crowns. + PETRUCHIO. Twenty crowns? + I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound, + But twenty times so much upon my wife. + LUCENTIO. A hundred then. + HORTENSIO. Content. + PETRUCHIO. A match! 'tis done. + HORTENSIO. Who shall begin? + LUCENTIO. That will I. + Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. + BIONDELLO. I go. Exit + BAPTISTA. Son, I'll be your half Bianca comes. + LUCENTIO. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself. + + Re-enter BIONDELLO + + How now! what news? + BIONDELLO. Sir, my mistress sends you word + That she is busy and she cannot come. + PETRUCHIO. How! She's busy, and she cannot come! + Is that an answer? + GREMIO. Ay, and a kind one too. + Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. + PETRUCHIO. I hope better. + HORTENSIO. Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife + To come to me forthwith. Exit BIONDELLO + PETRUCHIO. O, ho! entreat her! + Nay, then she must needs come. + HORTENSIO. I am afraid, sir, + Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. + + Re-enter BIONDELLO + + Now, where's my wife? + BIONDELLO. She says you have some goodly jest in hand: + She will not come; she bids you come to her. + PETRUCHIO. Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile, + Intolerable, not to be endur'd! + Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress; + Say I command her come to me. Exit GRUMIO + HORTENSIO. I know her answer. + PETRUCHIO. What? + HORTENSIO. She will not. + PETRUCHIO. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. + + Re-enter KATHERINA + + BAPTISTA. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katherina! + KATHERINA. What is your sir, that you send for me? + PETRUCHIO. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? + KATHERINA. They sit conferring by the parlour fire. + PETRUCHIO. Go, fetch them hither; if they deny to come. + Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands. + Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. + Exit KATHERINA + LUCENTIO. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. + HORTENSIO. And so it is. I wonder what it bodes. + PETRUCHIO. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life, + An awful rule, and right supremacy; + And, to be short, what not that's sweet and happy. + BAPTISTA. Now fair befall thee, good Petruchio! + The wager thou hast won; and I will ad + Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns; + Another dowry to another daughter, + For she is chang'd, as she had never been. + PETRUCHIO. Nay, I will win my wager better yet, + And show more sign of her obedience, + Her new-built virtue and obedience. + + Re-enter KATHERINA with BIANCA and WIDOW + + See where she comes, and brings your froward wives + As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. + Katherine, that cap of yours becomes you not: + Off with that bauble, throw it underfoot. + [KATHERINA complies] + WIDOW. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh + Till I be brought to such a silly pass! + BIANCA. Fie! what a foolish duty call you this? + LUCENTIO. I would your duty were as foolish too; + The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, + Hath cost me a hundred crowns since supper-time! + BIANCA. The more fool you for laying on my duty. + PETRUCHIO. Katherine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women + What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. + WIDOW. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have no telling. + PETRUCHIO. Come on, I say; and first begin with her. + WIDOW. She shall not. + PETRUCHIO. I say she shall. And first begin with her. + KATHERINA. Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow, + And dart not scornful glances from those eyes + To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor. + It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, + Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, + And in no sense is meet or amiable. + A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled- + Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; + And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty + Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. + Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, + Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, + And for thy maintenance commits his body + To painful labour both by sea and land, + To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, + Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; + And craves no other tribute at thy hands + But love, fair looks, and true obedience- + Too little payment for so great a debt. + Such duty as the subject owes the prince, + Even such a woman oweth to her husband; + And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour, + And not obedient to his honest will, + What is she but a foul contending rebel + And graceless traitor to her loving lord? + I am asham'd that women are so simple + To offer war where they should kneel for peace; + Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, + When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. + Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, + Unapt to toll and trouble in the world, + But that our soft conditions and our hearts + Should well agree with our external parts? + Come, come, you froward and unable worins! + My mind hath been as big as one of yours, + My heart as great, my reason haply more, + To bandy word for word and frown for frown; + But now I see our lances are but straws, + Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, + That seeming to be most which we indeed least are. + Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot, + And place your hands below your husband's foot; + In token of which duty, if he please, + My hand is ready, may it do him ease. + PETRUCHIO. Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate. + LUCENTIO. Well, go thy ways, old lad, for thou shalt ha't. + VINCENTIO. 'Tis a good hearing when children are toward. + LUCENTIO. But a harsh hearing when women are froward. + PETRUCHIO. Come, Kate, we'll to bed. + We three are married, but you two are sped. + [To LUCENTIO] 'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white; + And being a winner, God give you good night! + Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHERINA + HORTENSIO. Now go thy ways; thou hast tam'd a curst shrow. + LUCENTIO. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam'd so. + Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1612 + +THE TEMPEST + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + ALONSO, King of Naples + SEBASTIAN, his brother + PROSPERO, the right Duke of Milan + ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan + FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples + GONZALO, an honest old counsellor + + Lords + ADRIAN + FRANCISCO + CALIBAN, a savage and deformed slave + TRINCULO, a jester + STEPHANO, a drunken butler + MASTER OF A SHIP + BOATSWAIN + MARINERS + + MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero + + ARIEL, an airy spirit + + Spirits + IRIS + CERES + JUNO + NYMPHS + REAPERS + Other Spirits attending on Prospero + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +A ship at sea; afterwards an uninhabited island + + + +THE TEMPEST +ACT I. SCENE 1 + +On a ship at sea; a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard + +Enter a SHIPMASTER and a BOATSWAIN + + MASTER. Boatswain! + BOATSWAIN. Here, master; what cheer? + MASTER. Good! Speak to th' mariners; fall to't yarely, or + we run ourselves aground; bestir, bestir. Exit + + Enter MARINERS + + BOATSWAIN. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! + yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to th' master's + whistle. Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough. + + Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND + GONZALO, and OTHERS + + ALONSO. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? + Play the men. + BOATSWAIN. I pray now, keep below. + ANTONIO. Where is the master, boson? + BOATSWAIN. Do you not hear him? You mar our labour; + keep your cabins; you do assist the storm. + GONZALO. Nay, good, be patient. + BOATSWAIN. When the sea is. Hence! What cares these + roarers for the name of king? To cabin! silence! Trouble + us not. + GONZALO. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. + BOATSWAIN. None that I more love than myself. You are + counsellor; if you can command these elements to + silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not + hand a rope more. Use your authority; if you cannot, give + thanks you have liv'd so long, and make yourself ready + in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so + hap.-Cheerly, good hearts!-Out of our way, I say. + Exit + GONZALO. I have great comfort from this fellow. Methinks + he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is + perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging; + make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth + little advantage. If he be not born to be hang'd, our + case is miserable. Exeunt + + Re-enter BOATSWAIN + + BOATSWAIN. Down with the topmast. Yare, lower, lower! + Bring her to try wi' th' maincourse. [A cry within] A + plague upon this howling! They are louder than the + weather or our office. + + Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO + + Yet again! What do you here? Shall we give o'er, and + drown? Have you a mind to sink? + SEBASTIAN. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, + incharitable dog! + BOATSWAIN. Work you, then. + ANTONIO. Hang, cur; hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker; + we are less afraid to be drown'd than thou art. + GONZALO. I'll warrant him for drowning, though the ship were + no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanched + wench. + BOATSWAIN. Lay her a-hold, a-hold; set her two courses; off + to sea again; lay her off. + + Enter MARINERS, Wet + MARINERS. All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! + Exeunt + BOATSWAIN. What, must our mouths be cold? + GONZALO. The King and Prince at prayers! + Let's assist them, + For our case is as theirs. + SEBASTIAN. I am out of patience. + ANTONIO. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards. + This wide-chopp'd rascal-would thou mightst lie drowning + The washing of ten tides! + GONZALO. He'll be hang'd yet, + Though every drop of water swear against it, + And gape at wid'st to glut him. + [A confused noise within: Mercy on us! + We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children! + Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split!] + ANTONIO. Let's all sink wi' th' King. + SEBASTIAN. Let's take leave of him. + Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN + GONZALO. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for + an acre of barren ground-long heath, brown furze, any + thing. The wills above be done, but I would fain die + dry death. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2 + +The Island. Before PROSPERO'S cell + +Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA + + MIRANDA. If by your art, my dearest father, you have + Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. + The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, + But that the sea, mounting to th' welkin's cheek, + Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered + With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel, + Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, + Dash'd all to pieces! O, the cry did knock + Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish'd. + Had I been any god of power, I would + Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere + It should the good ship so have swallow'd and + The fraughting souls within her. + PROSPERO. Be conected; + No more amazement; tell your piteous heart + There's no harm done. + MIRANDA. O, woe the day! + PROSPERO. No harm. + I have done nothing but in care of thee, + Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who + Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing + Of whence I am, nor that I am more better + Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, + And thy no greater father. + MIRANDA. More to know + Did never meddle with my thoughts. + PROSPERO. 'Tis time + I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, + And pluck my magic garment from me. So, + [Lays down his mantle] + Lie there my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. + The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd + The very virtue of compassion in thee, + I have with such provision in mine art + So safely ordered that there is no soul- + No, not so much perdition as an hair + Betid to any creature in the vessel + Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. + Sit down, for thou must now know farther. + MIRANDA. You have often + Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd, + And left me to a bootless inquisition, + Concluding 'Stay; not yet.' + PROSPERO. The hour's now come; + The very minute bids thee ope thine ear. + Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou remember + A time before we came unto this cell? + I do not think thou canst; for then thou wast not + Out three years old. + MIRANDA. Certainly, sir, I can. + PROSPERO. By what? By any other house, or person? + Of any thing the image, tell me, that + Hath kept with thy remembrance? + MIRANDA. 'Tis far off, + And rather like a dream than an assurance + That my remembrance warrants. Had I not + Four, or five, women once, that tended me? + PROSPERO. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it + That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else + In the dark backward and abysm of time? + If thou rememb'rest aught, ere thou cam'st here, + How thou cam'st here thou mayst. + MIRANDA. But that I do not. + PROSPERO. Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, + Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and + A prince of power. + MIRANDA. Sir, are not you my father? + PROSPERO. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and + She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father + Was Duke of Milan, and his only heir + And princess no worse issued. + MIRANDA. O, the heavens! + What foul play had we that we came from thence? + Or blessed was't we did? + PROSPERO. Both, both, my girl. + By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd thence; + But blessedly holp hither. + MIRANDA. O, my heart bleeds + To think o' th' teen that I have turn'd you to, + Which is from my remembrance. Please you, farther. + PROSPERO. My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio- + I pray thee, mark me that a brother should + Be so perfidious. He, whom next thyself + Of all the world I lov'd, and to him put + The manage of my state; as at that time + Through all the signories it was the first, + And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed + In dignity, and for the liberal arts + Without a parallel, those being all my study- + The government I cast upon my brother + And to my state grew stranger, being transported + And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle- + Dost thou attend me? + MIRANDA. Sir, most heedfully. + PROSPERO. Being once perfected how to grant suits, + How to deny them, who t' advance, and who + To trash for over-topping, new created + The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em, + Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key + Of officer and office, set all hearts i' th' state + To what tune pleas'd his ear; that now he was + The ivy which had hid my princely trunk + And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not. + MIRANDA. O, good sir, I do! + PROSPERO. I pray thee, mark me. + I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated + To closeness and the bettering of my mind + With that which, but by being so retir'd, + O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother + Awak'd an evil nature; and my trust, + Like a good parent, did beget of him + A falsehood, in its contrary as great + As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, + A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, + Not only with what my revenue yielded, + But what my power might else exact, like one + Who having into truth, by telling of it, + Made such a sinner of his memory, + To credit his own lie-he did believe + He was indeed the Duke; out o' th' substitution, + And executing th' outward face of royalty + With all prerogative. Hence his ambition growing- + Dost thou hear? + MIRANDA. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. + PROSPERO. To have no screen between this part he play'd + And him he play'd it for, he needs will be + Absolute Milan. Me, poor man-my library + Was dukedom large enough-of temporal royalties + He thinks me now incapable; confederates, + So dry he was for sway, wi' th' King of Naples, + To give him annual tribute, do him homage, + Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend + The dukedom, yet unbow'd-alas, poor Milan!- + To most ignoble stooping. + MIRANDA. O the heavens! + PROSPERO. Mark his condition, and th' event, then tell me + If this might be a brother. + MIRANDA. I should sin + To think but nobly of my grandmother: + Good wombs have borne bad sons. + PROSPERO. Now the condition: + This King of Naples, being an enemy + To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; + Which was, that he, in lieu o' th' premises, + Of homage, and I know not how much tribute, + Should presently extirpate me and mine + Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan + With all the honours on my brother. Whereon, + A treacherous army levied, one midnight + Fated to th' purpose, did Antonio open + The gates of Milan; and, i' th' dead of darkness, + The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence + Me and thy crying self. + MIRANDA. Alack, for pity! + I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then, + Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint + That wrings mine eyes to't. + PROSPERO. Hear a little further, + And then I'll bring thee to the present busines + Which now's upon 's; without the which this story + Were most impertinent. + MIRANDA. Wherefore did they not + That hour destroy us? + PROSPERO. Well demanded, wench! + My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, + So dear the love my people bore me; nor set + A mark so bloody on the business; but + With colours fairer painted their foul ends. + In few, they hurried us aboard a bark; + Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepared + A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigg'd, + Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats + Instinctively have quit it. There they hoist us, + To cry to th' sea, that roar'd to us; to sigh + To th' winds, whose pity, sighing back again, + Did us but loving wrong. + MIRANDA. Alack, what trouble + Was I then to you! + PROSPERO. O, a cherubin + Thou wast that did preserve me! Thou didst smile, + Infused with a fortitude from heaven, + When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, + Under my burden groan'd; which rais'd in me + An undergoing stomach, to bear up + Against what should ensue. + MIRANDA. How came we ashore? + PROSPERO. By Providence divine. + Some food we had and some fresh water that + A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, + Out of his charity, who being then appointed + Master of this design, did give us, with + Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries, + Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness, + Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me + From mine own library with volumes that + I prize above my dukedom. + MIRANDA. Would I might + But ever see that man! + PROSPERO. Now I arise. [Puts on his mantle] + Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. + Here in this island we arriv'd; and here + Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit + Than other princess' can, that have more time + For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. + MIRANDA. Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, + sir, + For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason + For raising this sea-storm? + PROSPERO. Know thus far forth: + By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, + Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies + Brought to this shore; and by my prescience + I find my zenith doth depend upon + A most auspicious star, whose influence + If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes + Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions; + Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 'tis a good dullness, + And give it way. I know thou canst not choose. + [MIRANDA sleeps] + Come away, servant; come; I am ready now. + Approach, my Ariel. Come. + + Enter ARIEL + + ARIEL. All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come + To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, + To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride + On the curl'd clouds. To thy strong bidding task + Ariel and all his quality. + PROSPERO. Hast thou, spirit, + Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? + ARIEL. To every article. + I boarded the King's ship; now on the beak, + Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, + I flam'd amazement. Sometime I'd divide, + And burn in many places; on the topmast, + The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, + Then meet and join Jove's lightning, the precursors + O' th' dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary + And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks + Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune + Seem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, + Yea, his dread trident shake. + PROSPERO. My brave spirit! + Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil + Would not infect his reason? + ARIEL. Not a soul + But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd + Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners + Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, + Then all afire with me; the King's son, Ferdinand, + With hair up-staring-then like reeds, not hair- + Was the first man that leapt; cried 'Hell is empty, + And all the devils are here.' + PROSPERO. Why, that's my spirit! + But was not this nigh shore? + ARIEL. Close by, my master. + PROSPERO. But are they, Ariel, safe? + ARIEL. Not a hair perish'd; + On their sustaining garments not a blemish, + But fresher than before; and, as thou bad'st me, + In troops I have dispers'd them 'bout the isle. + The King's son have I landed by himself, + Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs + In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting, + His arms in this sad knot. + PROSPERO. Of the King's ship, + The mariners, say how thou hast dispos'd, + And all the rest o' th' fleet? + ARIEL. Safely in harbour + Is the King's ship; in the deep nook, where once + Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew + From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid; + The mariners all under hatches stowed, + Who, with a charm join'd to their suff'red labour, + I have left asleep; and for the rest o' th' fleet, + Which I dispers'd, they all have met again, + And are upon the Mediterranean flote + Bound sadly home for Naples, + Supposing that they saw the King's ship wreck'd, + And his great person perish. + PROSPERO. Ariel, thy charge + Exactly is perform'd; but there's more work. + What is the time o' th' day? + ARIEL. Past the mid season. + PROSPERO. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now + Must by us both be spent most preciously. + ARIEL. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, + Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, + Which is not yet perform'd me. + PROSPERO. How now, moody? + What is't thou canst demand? + ARIEL. My liberty. + PROSPERO. Before the time be out? No more! + ARIEL. I prithee, + Remember I have done thee worthy service, + Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, serv'd + Without or grudge or grumblings. Thou didst promise + To bate me a full year. + PROSPERO. Dost thou forget + From what a torment I did free thee? + ARIEL. No. + PROSPERO. Thou dost; and think'st it much to tread the ooze + Of the salt deep, + To run upon the sharp wind of the north, + To do me business in the veins o' th' earth + When it is bak'd with frost. + ARIEL. I do not, sir. + PROSPERO. Thou liest, malignant thing. Hast thou forgot + The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy + Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her? + ARIEL. No, sir. + PROSPERO. Thou hast. Where was she born? + Speak; tell me. + ARIEL. Sir, in Argier. + PROSPERO. O, was she so? I must + Once in a month recount what thou hast been, + Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax, + For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible + To enter human hearing, from Argier + Thou know'st was banish'd; for one thing she did + They would not take her life. Is not this true? + ARIEL. Ay, sir. + PROSPERO. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought with child, + And here was left by th'sailors. Thou, my slave, + As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant; + And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate + To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, + Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, + By help of her more potent ministers, + And in her most unmitigable rage, + Into a cloven pine; within which rift + Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain + A dozen years; within which space she died, + And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans + As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island- + Save for the son that she did litter here, + A freckl'd whelp, hag-born-not honour'd with + A human shape. + ARIEL. Yes, Caliban her son. + PROSPERO. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban + Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st + What torment I did find thee in; thy groans + Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts + Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment + To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax + Could not again undo. It was mine art, + When I arriv'd and heard thee, that made gape + The pine, and let thee out. + ARIEL. I thank thee, master. + PROSPERO. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak + And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till + Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. + ARIEL. Pardon, master; + I will be correspondent to command, + And do my spriting gently. + PROSPERO. Do so; and after two days + I will discharge thee. + ARIEL. That's my noble master! + What shall I do? Say what. What shall I do? + PROSPERO. Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea; be subject + To no sight but thine and mine, invisible + To every eyeball else. Go take this shape, + And hither come in 't. Go, hence with diligence! + Exit ARIEL + Awake, dear heart, awake; thou hast slept well; + Awake. + MIRANDA. The strangeness of your story put + Heaviness in me. + PROSPERO. Shake it off. Come on, + We'll visit Caliban, my slave, who never + Yields us kind answer. + MIRANDA. 'Tis a villain, sir, + I do not love to look on. + PROSPERO. But as 'tis, + We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, + Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices + That profit us. What ho! slave! Caliban! + Thou earth, thou! Speak. + CALIBAN. [ Within] There's wood enough within. + PROSPERO. Come forth, I say; there's other business for thee. + Come, thou tortoise! when? + + Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph + + Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, + Hark in thine ear. + ARIEL. My lord, it shall be done. Exit + PROSPERO. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself + Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! + + Enter CALIBAN + + CALIBAN. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd + With raven's feather from unwholesome fen + Drop on you both! A south-west blow on ye + And blister you all o'er! + PROSPERO. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, + Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins + Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, + All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd + As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging + Than bees that made 'em. + CALIBAN. I must eat my dinner. + This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, + Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st first, + Thou strok'st me and made much of me, wouldst give me + Water with berries in't, and teach me how + To name the bigger light, and how the less, + That burn by day and night; and then I lov'd thee, + And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, + The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile. + Curs'd be I that did so! All the charms + Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! + For I am all the subjects that you have, + Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me + In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me + The rest o' th' island. + PROSPERO. Thou most lying slave, + Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have us'd thee, + Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg'd thee + In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate + The honour of my child. + CALIBAN. O ho, O ho! Would't had been done. + Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl'd else + This isle with Calibans. + MIRANDA. Abhorred slave, + Which any print of goodness wilt not take, + Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, + Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour + One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage, + Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like + A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes + With words that made them known. But thy vile race, + Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures + Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou + Deservedly confin'd into this rock, who hadst + Deserv'd more than a prison. + CALIBAN. You taught me language, and my profit on't + Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you + For learning me your language! + PROSPERO. Hag-seed, hence! + Fetch us in fuel. And be quick, thou 'rt best, + To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? + If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly + What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, + Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar, + That beasts shall tremble at thy din. + CALIBAN. No, pray thee. + [Aside] I must obey. His art is of such pow'r, + It would control my dam's god, Setebos, + And make a vassal of him. + PROSPERO. So, slave; hence! Exit CALIBAN + + Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing ad singing; + FERDINAND following + + ARIEL'S SONG. + Come unto these yellow sands, + And then take hands; + Curtsied when you have and kiss'd, + The wild waves whist, + Foot it featly here and there, + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. + Hark, hark! + [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.] + The watch dogs bark. + [Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.] + Hark, hark! I hear + The strain of strutting chanticleer + Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. + FERDINAND. Where should this music be? I' th' air or th' + earth? + It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon + Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank, + Weeping again the King my father's wreck, + This music crept by me upon the waters, + Allaying both their fury and my passion + With its sweet air; thence I have follow'd it, + Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. + No, it begins again. + + ARIEL'S SONG + Full fathom five thy father lies; + Of his bones are coral made; + Those are pearls that were his eyes; + Nothing of him that doth fade + But doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange. + Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: + [Burden: Ding-dong.] + Hark! now I hear them-Ding-dong bell. + + FERDINAND. The ditty does remember my drown'd father. + This is no mortal business, nor no sound + That the earth owes. I hear it now above me. + PROSPERO. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, + And say what thou seest yond. + MIRANDA. What is't? a spirit? + Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, + It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. + PROSPERO. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses + As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest + Was in the wreck; and but he's something stain'd + With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him + A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows, + And strays about to find 'em. + MIRANDA. I might call him + A thing divine; for nothing natural + I ever saw so noble. + PROSPERO. [Aside] It goes on, I see, + As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee + Within two days for this. + FERDINAND. Most sure, the goddess + On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my pray'r + May know if you remain upon this island; + And that you will some good instruction give + How I may bear me here. My prime request, + Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! + If you be maid or no? + MIRANDA. No wonder, sir; + But certainly a maid. + FERDINAND. My language? Heavens! + I am the best of them that speak this speech, + Were I but where 'tis spoken. + PROSPERO. How? the best? + What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee? + FERDINAND. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders + To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me; + And that he does I weep. Myself am Naples, + Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld + The King my father wreck'd. + MIRANDA. Alack, for mercy! + FERDINAND. Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan + And his brave son being twain. + PROSPERO. [Aside] The Duke of Milan + And his more braver daughter could control thee, + If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight + They have chang'd eyes. Delicate Ariel, + I'll set thee free for this. [To FERDINAND] A word, good + sir; + I fear you have done yourself some wrong; a word. + MIRANDA. Why speaks my father so ungently? This + Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first + That e'er I sigh'd for. Pity move my father + To be inclin'd my way! + FERDINAND. O, if a virgin, + And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you + The Queen of Naples. + PROSPERO. Soft, Sir! one word more. + [Aside] They are both in either's pow'rs; but this swift + busines + I must uneasy make, lest too light winning + Make the prize light. [To FERDINAND] One word more; I + charge thee + That thou attend me; thou dost here usurp + The name thou ow'st not; and hast put thyself + Upon this island as a spy, to win it + From me, the lord on't. + FERDINAND. No, as I am a man. + MIRANDA. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. + If the ill spirit have so fair a house, + Good things will strive to dwell with't. + PROSPERO. Follow me. + Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come; + I'll manacle thy neck and feet together. + Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be + The fresh-brook mussels, wither'd roots, and husks + Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. + FERDINAND. No; + I will resist such entertainment till + Mine enemy has more power. + [He draws, and is charmed from moving] + MIRANDA. O dear father, + Make not too rash a trial of him, for + He's gentle, and not fearful. + PROSPERO. What, I say, + My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; + Who mak'st a show but dar'st not strike, thy conscience + Is so possess'd with guilt. Come from thy ward; + For I can here disarm thee with this stick + And make thy weapon drop. + MIRANDA. Beseech you, father! + PROSPERO. Hence! Hang not on my garments. + MIRANDA. Sir, have pity; + I'll be his surety. + PROSPERO. Silence! One word more + Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! + An advocate for an impostor! hush! + Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, + Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench! + To th' most of men this is a Caliban, + And they to him are angels. + MIRANDA. My affections + Are then most humble; I have no ambition + To see a goodlier man. + PROSPERO. Come on; obey. + Thy nerves are in their infancy again, + And have no vigour in them. + FERDINAND. So they are; + My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. + My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, + The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats + To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me, + Might I but through my prison once a day + Behold this maid. All corners else o' th' earth + Let liberty make use of; space enough + Have I in such a prison. + PROSPERO. [Aside] It works. [To FERDINAND] Come on.- + Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To FERDINAND] Follow + me. + [To ARIEL] Hark what thou else shalt do me. + MIRANDA. Be of comfort; + My father's of a better nature, sir, + Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted + Which now came from him. + PROSPERO. [To ARIEL] Thou shalt be as free + As mountain winds; but then exactly do + All points of my command. + ARIEL. To th' syllable. + PROSPERO. [To FERDINAND] Come, follow. [To MIRANDA] + Speak not for him. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE 1 + +Another part of the island + +Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and OTHERS + + GONZALO. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, + So have we all, of joy; for our escape + Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe + Is common; every day, some sailor's wife, + The masters of some merchant, and the merchant, + Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, + I mean our preservation, few in millions + Can speak like us. Then wisely, good sir, weigh + Our sorrow with our comfort. + ALONSO. Prithee, peace. + SEBASTIAN. He receives comfort like cold porridge. + ANTONIO. The visitor will not give him o'er so. + SEBASTIAN. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by + and by it will strike. + GONZALO. Sir- + SEBASTIAN. One-Tell. + GONZALO. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, + Comes to th' entertainer- + SEBASTIAN. A dollar. + GONZALO. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken + truer than you purpos'd. + SEBASTIAN. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you + should. + GONZALO. Therefore, my lord- + ANTONIO. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! + ALONSO. I prithee, spare. + GONZALO. Well, I have done; but yet- + SEBASTIAN. He will be talking. + ANTONIO. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first + begins to crow? + SEBASTIAN. The old cock. + ANTONIO. The cock'rel. + SEBASTIAN. Done. The wager? + ANTONIO. A laughter. + SEBASTIAN. A match! + ADRIAN. Though this island seem to be desert- + ANTONIO. Ha, ha, ha! + SEBASTIAN. So, you're paid. + ADRIAN. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible- + SEBASTIAN. Yet- + ADRIAN. Yet- + ANTONIO. He could not miss't. + ADRIAN. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate + temperance. + ANTONIO. Temperance was a delicate wench. + SEBASTIAN. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly + deliver'd. + ADRIAN. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. + SEBASTIAN. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. + ANTONIO. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen. + GONZALO. Here is everything advantageous to life. + ANTONIO. True; save means to live. + SEBASTIAN. Of that there's none, or little. + GONZALO. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! + ANTONIO. The ground indeed is tawny. + SEBASTIAN. With an eye of green in't. + ANTONIO. He misses not much. + SEBASTIAN. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. + GONZALO. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost + beyond credit- + SEBASTIAN. As many vouch'd rarities are. + GONZALO. That our garments, being, as they were, drench'd + in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and + glosses, being rather new-dy'd, than stain'd with salt + water. + ANTONIO. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it + not say he lies? + SEBASTIAN. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. + GONZALO. Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when + we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the + King's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. + SEBASTIAN. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in + our return. + ADRIAN. Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon + to their queen. + GONZALO. Not since widow Dido's time. + ANTONIO. Widow! a pox o' that! How came that 'widow' + in? Widow Dido! + SEBASTIAN. What if he had said 'widower Aeneas' too? + Good Lord, how you take it! + ADRIAN. 'Widow Dido' said you? You make me study of + that. She was of Carthage, not of Tunis. + GONZALO. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. + ADRIAN. Carthage? + GONZALO. I assure you, Carthage. + ANTONIO. His word is more than the miraculous harp. + SEBASTIAN. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. + ANTONIO. What impossible matter will he make easy next? + SEBASTIAN. I think he will carry this island home in his + pocket, and give it his son for an apple. + ANTONIO. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring + forth more islands. + GONZALO. Ay. + ANTONIO. Why, in good time. + GONZALO. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now + as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of + your daughter, who is now Queen. + ANTONIO. And the rarest that e'er came there. + SEBASTIAN. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. + ANTONIO. O, widow Dido! Ay, widow Dido. + GONZALO. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I + wore it? I mean, in a sort. + ANTONIO. That 'sort' was well fish'd for. + GONZALO. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? + ALONSO. You cram these words into mine ears against + The stomach of my sense. Would I had never + Married my daughter there; for, coming thence, + My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too, + Who is so far from Italy removed + I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir + Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish + Hath made his meal on thee? + FRANCISCO. Sir, he may live; + I saw him beat the surges under him, + And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, + Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted + The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head + 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared + Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke + To th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed, + As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt + He came alive to land. + ALONSO. No, no, he's gone. + SEBASTIAN. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, + That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, + But rather lose her to an African; + Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye, + Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. + ALONSO. Prithee, peace. + SEBASTIAN. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise + By all of us; and the fair soul herself + Weigh'd between loathness and obedience at + Which end o' th' beam should bow. We have lost your son, + I fear, for ever. Milan and Naples have + Moe widows in them of this business' making, + Than we bring men to comfort them; + The fault's your own. + ALONSO. So is the dear'st o' th' loss. + GONZALO. My lord Sebastian, + The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, + And time to speak it in; you rub the sore, + When you should bring the plaster. + SEBASTIAN. Very well. + ANTONIO. And most chirurgeonly. + GONZALO. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, + When you are cloudy. + SEBASTIAN. Foul weather? + ANTONIO. Very foul. + GONZALO. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord- + ANTONIO. He'd sow 't with nettle-seed. + SEBASTIAN. Or docks, or mallows. + GONZALO. And were the king on't, what would I do? + SEBASTIAN. Scape being drunk for want of wine. + GONZALO. I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries + Execute all things; for no kind of traffic + Would I admit; no name of magistrate; + Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, + And use of service, none; contract, succession, + Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; + No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; + No occupation; all men idle, all; + And women too, but innocent and pure; + No sovereignty- + SEBASTIAN. Yet he would be king on't. + ANTONIO. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the + beginning. + GONZALO. All things in common nature should produce + Without sweat or endeavour. Treason, felony, + Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, + Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, + Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance, + To feed my innocent people. + SEBASTIAN. No marrying 'mong his subjects? + ANTONIO. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. + GONZALO. I would with such perfection govern, sir, + T' excel the golden age. + SEBASTIAN. Save his Majesty! + ANTONIO. Long live Gonzalo! + GONZALO. And-do you mark me, sir? + ALONSO. Prithee, no more; thou dost talk nothing to me. + GONZALO. I do well believe your Highness; and did it to + minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such + sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh + at nothing. + ANTONIO. 'Twas you we laugh'd at. + GONZALO. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to + you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. + ANTONIO. What a blow was there given! + SEBASTIAN. An it had not fall'n flat-long. + GONZALO. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would + lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue + in it five weeks without changing. + + Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music + + SEBASTIAN. We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling. + ANTONIO. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. + GONZALO. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my + discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am + very heavy? + ANTONIO. Go sleep, and hear us. + [All sleep but ALONSO, SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] + ALONSO. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes + Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts; I find + They are inclin'd to do so. + SEBASTIAN. Please you, sir, + Do not omit the heavy offer of it: + It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, + It is a comforter. + ANTONIO. We two, my lord, + Will guard your person while you take your rest, + And watch your safety. + ALONSO. Thank you-wondrous heavy! + [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL] + SEBASTIAN. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! + ANTONIO. It is the quality o' th' climate. + SEBASTIAN. Why + Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not + Myself dispos'd to sleep. + ANTONIO. Nor I; my spirits are nimble. + They fell together all, as by consent; + They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, + Worthy Sebastian? O, what might! No more! + And yet methinks I see it in thy face, + What thou shouldst be; th' occasion speaks thee; and + My strong imagination sees a crown + Dropping upon thy head. + SEBASTIAN. What, art thou waking? + ANTONIO. Do you not hear me speak? + SEBASTIAN. I do; and surely + It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st + Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? + This is a strange repose, to be asleep + With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, + And yet so fast asleep. + ANTONIO. Noble Sebastian, + Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st + Whiles thou art waking. + SEBASTIAN. Thou dost snore distinctly; + There's meaning in thy snores. + ANTONIO. I am more serious than my custom; you + Must be so too, if heed me; which to do + Trebles thee o'er. + SEBASTIAN. Well, I am standing water. + ANTONIO. I'll teach you how to flow. + SEBASTIAN. Do so: to ebb, + Hereditary sloth instructs me. + ANTONIO. O, + If you but knew how you the purpose cherish, + Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, + You more invest it! Ebbing men indeed, + Most often, do so near the bottom run + By their own fear or sloth. + SEBASTIAN. Prithee say on. + The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim + A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, + Which throes thee much to yield. + ANTONIO. Thus, sir: + Although this lord of weak remembrance, this + Who shall be of as little memory + When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded- + For he's a spirit of persuasion, only + Professes to persuade-the King his son's alive, + 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd + As he that sleeps here swims. + SEBASTIAN. I have no hope + That he's undrown'd. + ANTONIO. O, out of that 'no hope' + What great hope have you! No hope that way is + Another way so high a hope, that even + Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, + But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me + That Ferdinand is drown'd? + SEBASTIAN. He's gone. + ANTONIO. Then tell me, + Who's the next heir of Naples? + SEBASTIAN. Claribel. + ANTONIO. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells + Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples + Can have no note, unless the sun were post, + The Man i' th' Moon's too slow, till newborn chins + Be rough and razorable; she that from whom + We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, + And by that destiny, to perform an act + Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come + In yours and my discharge. + SEBASTIAN. What stuff is this! How say you? + 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis; + So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions + There is some space. + ANTONIO. A space whose ev'ry cubit + Seems to cry out 'How shall that Claribel + Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, + And let Sebastian wake.' Say this were death + That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse + Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples + As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate + As amply and unnecessarily + As this Gonzalo; I myself could make + A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore + The mind that I do! What a sleep were this + For your advancement! Do you understand me? + SEBASTIAN. Methinks I do. + ANTONIO. And how does your content + Tender your own good fortune? + SEBASTIAN. I remember + You did supplant your brother Prospero. + ANTONIO. True. + And look how well my garments sit upon me, + Much feater than before. My brother's servants + Were then my fellows; now they are my men. + SEBASTIAN. But, for your conscience- + ANTONIO. Ay, sir; where lies that? If 'twere a kibe, + 'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not + This deity in my bosom; twenty consciences + That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they + And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother, + No better than the earth he lies upon, + If he were that which now he's like-that's dead; + Whom I with this obedient steel, three inches of it, + Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, + To the perpetual wink for aye might put + This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who + Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, + They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk; + They'll tell the clock to any business that + We say befits the hour. + SEBASTIAN. Thy case, dear friend, + Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan, + I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword. One stroke + Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest; + And I the King shall love thee. + ANTONIO. Draw together; + And when I rear my hand, do you the like, + To fall it on Gonzalo. + SEBASTIAN. O, but one word. [They talk apart] + + Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, with music and song + + ARIEL. My master through his art foresees the danger + That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth- + For else his project dies-to keep them living. + [Sings in GONZALO'S ear] + While you here do snoring lie, + Open-ey'd conspiracy + His time doth take. + If of life you keep a care, + Shake off slumber, and beware. + Awake, awake! + + ANTONIO. Then let us both be sudden. + GONZALO. Now, good angels + Preserve the King! [They wake] + ALONSO. Why, how now?-Ho, awake!-Why are you drawn? + Wherefore this ghastly looking? + GONZALO. What's the matter? + SEBASTIAN. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, + Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing + Like bulls, or rather lions; did't not wake you? + It struck mine ear most terribly. + ALONSO. I heard nothing. + ANTONIO. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear, + To make an earthquake! Sure it was the roar + Of a whole herd of lions. + ALONSO. Heard you this, Gonzalo? + GONZALO. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, + And that a strange one too, which did awake me; + I shak'd you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open'd, + I saw their weapons drawn-there was a noise, + That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, + Or that we quit this place. Let's draw our weapons. + ALONSO. Lead off this ground; and let's make further + search + For my poor son. + GONZALO. Heavens keep him from these beasts! + For he is, sure, i' th' island. + ALONSO. Lead away. + ARIEL. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done; + So, King, go safely on to seek thy son. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2 + +Another part of the island + +Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard + + CALIBAN. All the infections that the sun sucks up + From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him + By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, + And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, + Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' th' mire, + Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark + Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but + For every trifle are they set upon me; + Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me, + And after bite me; then like hedgehogs which + Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount + Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I + All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues + Do hiss me into madness. + + Enter TRINCULO + + Lo, now, lo! + Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me + For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat; + Perchance he will not mind me. + TRINCULO. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear off any + weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it + sing i' th' wind. Yond same black cloud, yond huge one, + looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If + it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to + hide my head. Yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by + pailfuls. What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or + alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and + fish-like smell; kind of not-of-the-newest Poor-John. A + strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and + had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but + would give a piece of silver. There would this monster + make a man; any strange beast there makes a man; when + they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they + will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a + man, and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do now + let loose my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no + fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by + thunderbolt. [Thunder] Alas, the storm is come again! My + best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no + other shelter hereabout. Misery acquaints a man with + strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs + of the storm be past. + + Enter STEPHANO singing; a bottle in his hand + + STEPHANO. I shall no more to sea, to sea, + Here shall I die ashore- + This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral; + well, here's my comfort. [Drinks] + + The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, + The gunner, and his mate, + Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, + But none of us car'd for Kate; + For she had a tongue with a tang, + Would cry to a sailor 'Go hang!' + She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch, + Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch. + Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang! + + This is a scurvy tune too; but here's my comfort. + [Drinks] + CALIBAN. Do not torment me. O! + STEPHANO. What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you + put tricks upon 's with savages and men of Ind? Ha! I + have not scap'd drowning to be afeard now of your four + legs; for it hath been said: As proper a man as ever + went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it + shall be said so again, while Stephano breathes at + nostrils. + CALIBAN. The spirit torments me. O! + STEPHANO. This is some monster of the isle with four legs, + who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil + should he learn our language? I will give him some + relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him, and + keep him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a + present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's + leather. + CALIBAN. Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood + home faster. + STEPHANO. He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the + wisest. He shall taste of my bottle; if he have never + drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If + I can recover him, and keep him tame, I will not take + too much for him; he shall pay for him that hath him, + and that soundly. + CALIBAN. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, + I know it by thy trembling; now Prosper works upon thee. + STEPHANO. Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is + that which will give language to you, cat. Open your + mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and + that soundly; you cannot tell who's your friend. Open + your chaps again. + TRINCULO. I should know that voice; it should be-but he is + drown'd; and these are devils. O, defend me! + STEPHANO. Four legs and two voices; a most delicate monster! + His forward voice, now, is to speak well of his + friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and + to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover + him, I will help his ague. Come-Amen! I will pour some + in thy other mouth. + TRINCULO. Stephano! + STEPHANO. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! + This is a devil, and no monster; I will leave him; I + have no long spoon. + TRINCULO. Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me, and + speak to me; for I am Trinculo-be not afeard-thy good + friend Trinculo. + STEPHANO. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth; I'll pull + the by the lesser legs; if any be Trinculo's legs, these + are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How cam'st thou + to be the siege of this moon-calf? Can he vent + Trinculos? + TRINCULO. I took him to be kill'd with a thunderstroke. + But art thou not drown'd, Stephano? I hope now thou are + not drown'd. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the + dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And + art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans + scap'd! + STEPHANO. Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not + constant. + CALIBAN. [Aside] These be fine things, an if they be not + sprites. + That's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor. + I will kneel to him. + STEPHANO. How didst thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? + Swear by this bottle how thou cam'st hither-I escap'd + upon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved o'erboard- + by this bottle, which I made of the bark of a tree, with + mine own hands, since I was cast ashore. + CALIBAN. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true + subject, for the liquor is not earthly. + STEPHANO. Here; swear then how thou escap'dst. + TRINCULO. Swum ashore, man, like a duck; I can swim like + a duck, I'll be sworn. + STEPHANO. [Passing the bottle] Here, kiss the book. Though + thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a + goose. + TRINCULO. O Stephano, hast any more of this? + STEPHANO. The whole butt, man; my cellar is in a rock by + th' seaside, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! + How does thine ague? + CALIBAN. Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven? + STEPHANO. Out o' th' moon, I do assure thee; I was the Man + i' th' Moon, when time was. + CALIBAN. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee. My + mistress show'd me thee, and thy dog and thy bush. + STEPHANO. Come, swear to that; kiss the book. I will + furnish it anon with new contents. Swear. + [CALIBAN drinks] + TRINCULO. By this good light, this is a very shallow + monster! + I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The Man i' th' + Moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well drawn, + monster, in good sooth! + CALIBAN. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island; + and will kiss thy foot. I prithee be my god. + TRINCULO. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken + monster! When's god's asleep he'll rob his bottle. + CALIBAN. I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy + subject. + STEPHANO. Come on, then; down, and swear. + TRINCULO. I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy- + headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in + my heart to beat him- + STEPHANO. Come, kiss. + TRINCULO. But that the poor monster's in drink. An + abominable monster! + CALIBAN. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee + berries; + I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. + A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! + I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, + Thou wondrous man. + TRINCULO. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of + a poor drunkard! + CALIBAN. I prithee let me bring thee where crabs grow; + And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; + Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how + To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee + To clust'ring filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee + Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? + STEPHANO. I prithee now, lead the way without any more + talking. Trinculo, the King and all our company else + being drown'd, we will inherit here. Here, bear my bottle. + Fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. + CALIBAN. [Sings drunkenly] Farewell, master; farewell, + farewell! + TRINCULO. A howling monster; a drunken monster! + CALIBAN. No more dams I'll make for fish; + Nor fetch in firing + At requiring, + Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish. + 'Ban 'Ban, Ca-Caliban, + Has a new master-Get a new man. + Freedom, high-day! high-day, freedom! freedom, high- + day, freedom! + STEPHANO. O brave monster! Lead the way. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE 1 + +Before PROSPERO'S cell + +Enter FERDINAND, hearing a log + + FERDINAND. There be some sports are painful, and their + labour + Delight in them sets off; some kinds of baseness + Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters + Point to rich ends. This my mean task + Would be as heavy to me as odious, but + The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead, + And makes my labours pleasures. O, she is + Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed; + And he's compos'd of harshness. I must remove + Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, + Upon a sore injunction; my sweet mistress + Weeps when she sees me work, and says such baseness + Had never like executor. I forget; + But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, + Most busy, least when I do it. + + Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen + + MIRANDA. Alas, now; pray you, + Work not so hard; I would the lightning had + Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile. + Pray, set it down and rest you; when this burns, + 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father + Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself; + He's safe for these three hours. + FERDINAND. O most dear mistress, + The sun will set before I shall discharge + What I must strive to do. + MIRANDA. If you'll sit down, + I'll bear your logs the while; pray give me that; + I'll carry it to the pile. + FERDINAND. No, precious creature; + I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, + Than you should such dishonour undergo, + While I sit lazy by. + MIRANDA. It would become me + As well as it does you; and I should do it + With much more ease; for my good will is to it, + And yours it is against. + PROSPERO. [Aside] Poor worm, thou art infected! + This visitation shows it. + MIRANDA. You look wearily. + FERDINAND. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me + When you are by at night. I do beseech you, + Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers, + What is your name? + MIRANDA. Miranda-O my father, + I have broke your hest to say so! + FERDINAND. Admir'd Miranda! + What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady + I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time + Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage + Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues + Have I lik'd several women, never any + With so full soul, but some defect in her + Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd, + And put it to the foil; but you, O you, + So perfect and so peerless, are created + Of every creature's best! + MIRANDA. I do not know + One of my sex; no woman's face remember, + Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen + More that I may call men than you, good friend, + And my dear father. How features are abroad, + I am skilless of; but, by my modesty, + The jewel in my dower, I would not wish + Any companion in the world but you; + Nor can imagination form a shape, + Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle + Something too wildly, and my father's precepts + I therein do forget. + FERDINAND. I am, in my condition, + A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king- + I would not so!-and would no more endure + This wooden slavery than to suffer + The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: + The very instant that I saw you, did + My heart fly to your service; there resides + To make me slave to it; and for your sake + Am I this patient log-man. + MIRANDA. Do you love me? + FERDINAND. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound, + And crown what I profess with kind event, + If I speak true! If hollowly, invert + What best is boded me to mischief! I, + Beyond all limit of what else i' th' world, + Do love, prize, honour you. + MIRANDA. I am a fool + To weep at what I am glad of. + PROSPERO. [Aside] Fair encounter + Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace + On that which breeds between 'em! + FERDINAND. Wherefore weep you? + MIRANDA. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer + What I desire to give, and much less take + What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; + And all the more it seeks to hide itself, + The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! + And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! + I am your wife, if you will marry me; + If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow + You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, + Whether you will or no. + FERDINAND. My mistress, dearest; + And I thus humble ever. + MIRANDA. My husband, then? + FERDINAND. Ay, with a heart as willing + As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand. + MIRANDA. And mine, with my heart in't. And now farewell + Till half an hour hence. + FERDINAND. A thousand thousand! + Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally + PROSPERO. So glad of this as they I cannot be, + Who are surpris'd withal; but my rejoicing + At nothing can be more. I'll to my book; + For yet ere supper time must I perform + Much business appertaining. Exit + + + + +SCENE 2 + +Another part of the island + +Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO + + STEPHANO. Tell not me-when the butt is out we will drink + water, not a drop before; therefore bear up, and board + 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me. + TRINCULO. Servant-monster! The folly of this island! They + say there's but five upon this isle: we are three of + them; if th' other two be brain'd like us, the state + totters. + STEPHANO. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee; thy + eyes are almost set in thy head. + TRINCULO. Where should they be set else? He were a brave + monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. + STEPHANO. My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in + sack. For my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere + I could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues, off + and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, + monster, or my standard. + TRINCULO. Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard. + STEPHANO. We'll not run, Monsieur Monster. + TRINCULO. Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs, and + yet say nothing neither. + STEPHANO. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest + a good moon-calf. + CALIBAN. How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. + I'll not serve him; he is not valiant. + TRINCULO. Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case + to justle a constable. Why, thou debosh'd fish, thou, + was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack + as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but + half fish and half a monster? + CALIBAN. Lo, how he mocks me! Wilt thou let him, my + lord? + TRINCULO. 'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such + a natural! + CALIBAN. Lo, lo again! Bite him to death, I prithee. + STEPHANO. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head; if + you prove a mutineer-the next tree! The poor monster's + my subject, and he shall not suffer indignity. + CALIBAN. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to + hearken once again to the suit I made to thee? + STEPHANO. Marry will I; kneel and repeat it; I will stand, + and so shall Trinculo. + + Enter ARIEL, invisible + + CALIBAN. As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, + sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the + island. + ARIEL. Thou liest. + CALIBAN. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou; + I would my valiant master would destroy thee. + I do not lie. + STEPHANO. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, + by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. + TRINCULO. Why, I said nothing. + STEPHANO. Mum, then, and no more. Proceed. + CALIBAN. I say, by sorcery he got this isle; + From me he got it. If thy greatness will + Revenge it on him-for I know thou dar'st, + But this thing dare not- + STEPHANO. That's most certain. + CALIBAN. Thou shalt be lord of it, and I'll serve thee. + STEPHANO. How now shall this be compass'd? Canst thou + bring me to the party? + CALIBAN. Yea, yea, my lord; I'll yield him thee asleep, + Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. + ARIEL. Thou liest; thou canst not. + CALIBAN. What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch! + I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows, + And take his bottle from him. When that's gone + He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him + Where the quick freshes are. + STEPHANO. Trinculo, run into no further danger; interrupt + the monster one word further and, by this hand, I'll turn + my mercy out o' doors, and make a stock-fish of thee. + TRINCULO. Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther + off. + STEPHANO. Didst thou not say he lied? + ARIEL. Thou liest. + STEPHANO. Do I so? Take thou that. [Beats him] As you like + this, give me the lie another time. + TRINCULO. I did not give the lie. Out o' your wits and + hearing too? A pox o' your bottle! This can sack and + drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil + take your fingers! + CALIBAN. Ha, ha, ha! + STEPHANO. Now, forward with your tale.-Prithee stand + further off. + CALIBAN. Beat him enough; after a little time, I'll beat + him too. + STEPHANO. Stand farther. Come, proceed. + CALIBAN. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him + I' th' afternoon to sleep; there thou mayst brain him, + Having first seiz'd his books; or with a log + Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, + Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember + First to possess his books; for without them + He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not + One spirit to command; they all do hate him + As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. + He has brave utensils-for so he calls them- + Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal. + And that most deeply to consider is + The beauty of his daughter; he himself + Calls her a nonpareil. I never saw a woman + But only Sycorax my dam and she; + But she as far surpasseth Sycorax + As great'st does least. + STEPHANO. Is it so brave a lass? + CALIBAN. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant, + And bring thee forth brave brood. + STEPHANO. Monster, I will kill this man; his daughter and I + will be King and Queen-save our Graces!-and Trinculo + and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot, + Trinculo? + TRINCULO. Excellent. + STEPHANO. Give me thy hand; I am sorry I beat thee; but + while thou liv'st, keep a good tongue in thy head. + CALIBAN. Within this half hour will he be asleep. + Wilt thou destroy him then? + STEPHANO. Ay, on mine honour. + ARIEL. This will I tell my master. + CALIBAN. Thou mak'st me merry; I am full of pleasure. + Let us be jocund; will you troll the catch + You taught me but while-ere? + STEPHANO. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any + reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. [Sings] + + Flout 'em and scout 'em, + And scout 'em and flout 'em; + Thought is free. + + CALIBAN. That's not the tune. + [ARIEL plays the tune on a tabor and pipe] + STEPHANO. What is this same? + TRINCULO. This is the tune of our catch, play'd by the + picture of Nobody. + STEPHANO. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy + likeness; if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list. + TRINCULO. O, forgive me my sins! + STEPHANO. He that dies pays all debts. I defy thee. Mercy + upon us! + CALIBAN. Art thou afeard? + STEPHANO. No, monster, not I. + CALIBAN. Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises, + Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. + Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments + Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, + That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, + Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, + The clouds methought would open and show riches + Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak'd, + I cried to dream again. + STEPHANO. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I + shall have my music for nothing. + CALIBAN. When Prospero is destroy'd. + STEPHANO. That shall be by and by; I remember the story. + TRINCULO. The sound is going away; let's follow it, and + after do our work. + STEPHANO. Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see + this taborer; he lays it on. + TRINCULO. Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3 + +Another part of the island + +Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and OTHERS + + GONZALO. By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir; + My old bones ache. Here's a maze trod, indeed, + Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, + I needs must rest me. + ALONSO. Old lord, I cannot blame thee, + Who am myself attach'd with weariness + To th' dulling of my spirits; sit down and rest. + Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it + No longer for my flatterer; he is drown'd + Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks + Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go. + ANTONIO. [Aside to SEBASTIAN] I am right glad that he's + so out of hope. + Do not, for one repulse, forgo the purpose + That you resolv'd t' effect. + SEBASTIAN. [Aside to ANTONIO] The next advantage + Will we take throughly. + ANTONIO. [Aside to SEBASTIAN] Let it be to-night; + For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they + Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance + As when they are fresh. + SEBASTIAN. [Aside to ANTONIO] I say, to-night; no more. + + Solemn and strange music; and PROSPERO on the + top, invisible. Enter several strange SHAPES, + bringing in a banquet; and dance about it with + gentle actions of salutations; and inviting the + KING, etc., to eat, they depart + + ALONSO. What harmony is this? My good friends, hark! + GONZALO. Marvellous sweet music! + ALONSO. Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these? + SEBASTIAN. A living drollery. Now I will believe + That there are unicorns; that in Arabia + There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix + At this hour reigning-there. + ANTONIO. I'll believe both; + And what does else want credit, come to me, + And I'll be sworn 'tis true; travellers ne'er did lie, + Though fools at home condemn 'em. + GONZALO. If in Naples + I should report this now, would they believe me? + If I should say, I saw such islanders, + For certes these are people of the island, + Who though they are of monstrous shape yet, note, + Their manners are more gentle-kind than of + Our human generation you shall find + Many, nay, almost any. + PROSPERO. [Aside] Honest lord, + Thou hast said well; for some of you there present + Are worse than devils. + ALONSO. I cannot too much muse + Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing, + Although they want the use of tongue, a kind + Of excellent dumb discourse. + PROSPERO. [Aside] Praise in departing. + FRANCISCO. They vanish'd strangely. + SEBASTIAN. No matter, since + They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs. + Will't please you taste of what is here? + ALONSO. Not I. + GONZALO. Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys, + Who would believe that there were mountaineers, + Dewlapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em + Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men + Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find + Each putter-out of five for one will bring us + Good warrant of. + ALONSO. I will stand to, and feed, + Although my last; no matter, since I feel + The best is past. Brother, my lord the Duke, + Stand to, and do as we. + + Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; + claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint + device, the banquet vanishes + + ARIEL. You are three men of sin, whom Destiny, + That hath to instrument this lower world + And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea + Hath caus'd to belch up you; and on this island + Where man doth not inhabit-you 'mongst men + Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; + And even with such-like valour men hang and drown + Their proper selves. + [ALONSO, SEBASTIAN etc., draw their swords] + You fools! I and my fellows + Are ministers of Fate; the elements + Of whom your swords are temper'd may as well + Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs + Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish + One dowle that's in my plume; my fellow-ministers + Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt, + Your swords are now too massy for your strengths + And will not be uplifted. But remember- + For that's my business to you-that you three + From Milan did supplant good Prospero; + Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it, + Him, and his innocent child; for which foul deed + The pow'rs, delaying, not forgetting, have + Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, + Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, + They have bereft; and do pronounce by me + Ling'ring perdition, worse than any death + Can be at once, shall step by step attend + You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from- + Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls + Upon your heads-is nothing but heart's sorrow, + And a clear life ensuing. + + He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter + the SHAPES again, and dance, with mocks and mows, + and carrying out the table + + PROSPERO. Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou + Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring. + Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated + In what thou hadst to say; so, with good life + And observation strange, my meaner ministers + Their several kinds have done. My high charms work, + And these mine enemies are all knit up + In their distractions. They now are in my pow'r; + And in these fits I leave them, while I visit + Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd, + And his and mine lov'd darling. Exit above + GONZALO. I' th' name of something holy, sir, why stand you + In this strange stare? + ALONSO. O, it is monstrous, monstrous! + Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it; + The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, + That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd + The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass. + Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded; and + I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, + And with him there lie mudded. Exit + SEBASTIAN. But one fiend at a time, + I'll fight their legions o'er. + ANTONIO. I'll be thy second. Exeunt SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO + GONZALO. All three of them are desperate; their great guilt, + Like poison given to work a great time after, + Now gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you, + That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly, + And hinder them from what this ecstasy + May now provoke them to. + ADRIAN. Follow, I pray you. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 1 + +Before PROSPERO'S cell + +Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA + + PROSPERO. If I have too austerely punish'd you, + Your compensation makes amends; for + Have given you here a third of mine own life, + Or that for which I live; who once again + I tender to thy hand. All thy vexations + Were but my trials of thy love, and thou + Hast strangely stood the test; here, afore heaven, + I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand! + Do not smile at me that I boast her off, + For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, + And make it halt behind her. + FERDINAND. I do believe it + Against an oracle. + PROSPERO. Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition + Wort'hily purchas'd, take my daughter. But + If thou dost break her virgin-knot before + All sanctimonious ceremonies may + With full and holy rite be minist'red, + No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall + To make this contract grow; but barren hate, + Sour-ey'd disdain, and discord, shall bestrew + The union of your bed with weeds so loathly + That you shall hate it both. Therefore take heed, + As Hymen's lamps shall light you. + FERDINAND. As I hope + For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, + With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, + The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion + Our worser genius can, shall never melt + Mine honour into lust, to take away + The edge of that day's celebration, + When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd + Or Night kept chain'd below. + PROSPERO. Fairly spoke. + Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own. + What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel! + + Enter ARIEL + + ARIEL. What would my potent master? Here I am. + PROSPERO. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service + Did worthily perform; and I must use you + In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, + O'er whom I give thee pow'r, here to this place. + Incite them to quick motion; for I must + Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple + Some vanity of mine art; it is my promise, + And they expect it from me. + ARIEL. Presently? + PROSPERO. Ay, with a twink. + ARIEL. Before you can say 'come' and 'go,' + And breathe twice, and cry 'so, so,' + Each one, tripping on his toe, + Will be here with mop and mow. + Do you love me, master? No? + PROSPERO. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approach + Till thou dost hear me call. + ARIEL. Well! I conceive. Exit + PROSPERO. Look thou be true; do not give dalliance + Too much the rein; the strongest oaths are straw + To th' fire i' th' blood. Be more abstemious, + Or else good night your vow! + FERDINAND. I warrant you, sir, + The white cold virgin snow upon my heart + Abates the ardour of my liver. + PROSPERO. Well! + Now come, my Ariel, bring a corollary, + Rather than want a spirit; appear, and pertly. + No tongue! All eyes! Be silent. [Soft music] + + Enter IRIS + + IRIS. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas + Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease; + Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, + And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep; + Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, + Which spongy April at thy hest betrims, + To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves, + Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, + Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard; + And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky hard, + Where thou thyself dost air-the Queen o' th' sky, + Whose wat'ry arch and messenger am I, + Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace, + Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, + To come and sport. Her peacocks fly amain. + [JUNO descends in her car] + Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. + + Enter CERES + + CERES. Hail, many-coloured messenger, that ne'er + Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; + Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flow'rs + Diffusest honey drops, refreshing show'rs; + And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown + My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down, + Rich scarf to my proud earth-why hath thy Queen + Summon'd me hither to this short-grass'd green? + IRIS. A contract of true love to celebrate, + And some donation freely to estate + On the blest lovers. + CERES. Tell me, heavenly bow, + If Venus or her son, as thou dost know, + Do now attend the Queen? Since they did plot + The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, + Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company + I have forsworn. + IRIS. Of her society + Be not afraid. I met her Deity + Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son + Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done + Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, + Whose vows are that no bed-rite shall be paid + Till Hymen's torch be lighted; but in vain. + Mars's hot minion is return'd again; + Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, + Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows, + And be a boy right out. [JUNO alights] + CERES. Highest Queen of State, + Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait. + JUNO. How does my bounteous sister? Go with me + To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be, + And honour'd in their issue. [They sing] + JUNO. Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, + Long continuance, and increasing, + Hourly joys be still upon you! + Juno sings her blessings on you. + CERES. Earth's increase, foison plenty, + Barns and gamers never empty; + Vines with clust'ring bunches growing, + Plants with goodly burden bowing; + Spring come to you at the farthest, + In the very end of harvest! + Scarcity and want shall shun you, + Ceres' blessing so is on you. + FERDINAND. This is a most majestic vision, and + Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold + To think these spirits? + PROSPERO. Spirits, which by mine art + I have from their confines call'd to enact + My present fancies. + FERDINAND. Let me live here ever; + So rare a wond'red father and a wise + Makes this place Paradise. + [JUNO and CERES whisper, and send IRIS on employment] + PROSPERO. Sweet now, silence; + Juno and Ceres whisper seriously. + There's something else to do; hush, and be mute, + Or else our spell is marr'd. + IRIS. You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the wind'ring brooks, + With your sedg'd crowns and ever harmless looks, + Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land + Answer your summons; Juno does command. + Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate + A contract of true love; be not too late. + + Enter certain NYMPHS + + You sun-burnt sicklemen, of August weary, + Come hither from the furrow, and be merry; + Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on, + And these fresh nymphs encounter every one + In country footing. + + Enter certain REAPERS, properly habited; they join + with the NYMPHS in a graceful dance; towards the + end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and speaks, + after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused + noise, they heavily vanish + + PROSPERO. [Aside] I had forgot that foul conspiracy + Of the beast Caliban and his confederates + Against my life; the minute of their plot + Is almost come. [To the SPIRITS] Well done; avoid; no + more! + FERDINAND. This is strange; your father's in some passion + That works him strongly. + MIRANDA. Never till this day + Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd. + PROSPERO. You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort, + As if you were dismay'd; be cheerful, sir. + Our revels now are ended. These our actors, + As I foretold you, were all spirits, and + Are melted into air, into thin air; + And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, + The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, + The solemn temples, the great globe itself, + Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, + And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, + Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff + As dreams are made on; and our little life + Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; + Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled; + Be not disturb'd with my infirmity. + If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell + And there repose; a turn or two I'll walk + To still my beating mind. + FERDINAND, MIRANDA. We wish your peace. Exeunt + PROSPERO. Come, with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel; come. + + Enter ARIEL + + ARIEL. Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure? + PROSPERO. Spirit, + We must prepare to meet with Caliban. + ARIEL. Ay, my commander. When I presented 'Ceres.' + I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear'd + Lest I might anger thee. + PROSPERO. Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets? + ARIEL. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; + So full of valour that they smote the air + For breathing in their faces; beat the ground + For kissing of their feet; yet always bending + Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor, + At which like unback'd colts they prick'd their ears, + Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses + As they smelt music; so I charm'd their cars, + That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through + Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns, + Which ent'red their frail shins. At last I left them + I' th' filthy mantled pool beyond your cell, + There dancing up to th' chins, that the foul lake + O'erstunk their feet. + PROSPERO. This was well done, my bird. + Thy shape invisible retain thou still. + The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither + For stale to catch these thieves. + ARIEL. I go, I go. Exit + PROSPERO. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature + Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, + Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost; + And as with age his body uglier grows, + So his mind cankers. I will plague them all, + Even to roaring. + + Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c. + + Come, hang them on this line. + [PROSPERO and ARIEL remain, invisible] + + Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet + + CALIBAN. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not + Hear a foot fall; we now are near his cell. + STEPHANO. Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless + fairy, has done little better than play'd the Jack with us. + TRINCULO. Monster, I do smell all horse-piss at which my + nose is in great indignation. + STEPHANO. So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should + take a displeasure against you, look you- + TRINCULO. Thou wert but a lost monster. + CALIBAN. Good my lord, give me thy favour still. + Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to + Shall hoodwink this mischance; therefore speak softly. + All's hush'd as midnight yet. + TRINCULO. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool! + STEPHANO. There is not only disgrace and dishonour in + that, monster, but an infinite loss. + TRINCULO. That's more to me than my wetting; yet this is + your harmless fairy, monster. + STEPHANO. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er + ears for my labour. + CALIBAN. Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here, + This is the mouth o' th' cell; no noise, and enter. + Do that good mischief which may make this island + Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, + For aye thy foot-licker. + STEPHANO. Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody + thoughts. + TRINCULO. O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! + Look what a wardrobe here is for thee! + CALIBAN. Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash. + TRINCULO. O, ho, monster; we know what belongs to a + frippery. O King Stephano! + STEPHANO. Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll + have that gown. + TRINCULO. Thy Grace shall have it. + CALIBAN. The dropsy drown this fool! What do you mean + To dote thus on such luggage? Let 't alone, + And do the murder first. If he awake, + From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches; + Make us strange stuff. + STEPHANO. Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not + this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line; now, + jerkin, you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald + jerkin. + TRINCULO. Do, do. We steal by line and level, an't like + your Grace. + STEPHANO. I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment + for't. Wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of + this country. 'Steal by line and level' is an excellent + pass of pate; there's another garmet for't. + TRINCULO. Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, + and away with the rest. + CALIBAN. I will have none on't. We shall lose our time, + And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes + With foreheads villainous low. + STEPHANO. Monster, lay-to your fingers; help to bear this + away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out + of my kingdom. Go to, carry this. + TRINCULO. And this. + STEPHANO. Ay, and this. + + A noise of hunters beard. Enter divers SPIRITS, in + shape of dogs and hounds, bunting them about; + PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on + + PROSPERO. Hey, Mountain, hey! + ARIEL. Silver! there it goes, Silver! + PROSPERO. Fury, Fury! There, Tyrant, there! Hark, hark! + [CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO are driven out] + Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints + With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews + With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them + Than pard or cat o' mountain. + ARIEL. Hark, they roar. + PROSPERO. Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour + Lies at my mercy all mine enemies. + Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou + Shalt have the air at freedom; for a little + Follow, and do me service. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1 + +Before PROSPERO'S cell + +Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL + + PROSPERO. Now does my project gather to a head; + My charms crack not, my spirits obey; and time + Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? + ARIEL. On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, + You said our work should cease. + PROSPERO. I did say so, + When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit, + How fares the King and 's followers? + ARIEL. Confin'd together + In the same fashion as you gave in charge; + Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir, + In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell; + They cannot budge till your release. The King, + His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted, + And the remainder mourning over them, + Brim full of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly + Him you term'd, sir, 'the good old lord, Gonzalo'; + His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops + From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em + That if you now beheld them your affections + Would become tender. + PROSPERO. Dost thou think so, spirit? + ARIEL. Mine would, sir, were I human. + PROSPERO. And mine shall. + Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling + Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, + One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, + Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art? + Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th' quick, + Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury + Do I take part; the rarer action is + In virtue than in vengeance; they being penitent, + The sole drift of my purpose doth extend + Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel; + My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, + And they shall be themselves. + ARIEL. I'll fetch them, sir. Exit + PROSPERO. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and + groves; + And ye that on the sands with printless foot + Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him + When he comes back; you demi-puppets that + By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, + Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime + Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice + To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid- + Weak masters though ye be-I have be-dimm'd + The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, + And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault + Set roaring war. To the dread rattling thunder + Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak + With his own bolt; the strong-bas'd promontory + Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up + The pine and cedar. Graves at my command + Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth, + By my so potent art. But this rough magic + I here abjure; and, when I have requir'd + Some heavenly music-which even now I do- + To work mine end upon their senses that + This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, + Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, + And deeper than did ever plummet sound + I'll drown my book. [Solem music] + + Here enters ARIEL before; then ALONSO, with + frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN + and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN + and FRANCISCO. They all enter the circle which + PROSPERO had made, and there stand charm'd; which + PROSPERO observing, speaks + + A solemn air, and the best comforter + To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains, + Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand, + For you are spell-stopp'd. + Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, + Mine eyes, ev'n sociable to the show of thine, + Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace, + And as the morning steals upon the night, + Melting the darkness, so their rising senses + Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle + Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo, + My true preserver, and a loyal sir + To him thou follow'st! I will pay thy graces + Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly + Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter; + Thy brother was a furtherer in the act. + Thou art pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood, + You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, + Expell'd remorse and nature, who, with Sebastian- + Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong- + Would here have kill'd your king, I do forgive thee, + Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding + Begins to swell, and the approaching tide + Will shortly fill the reasonable shore + That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them + That yet looks on me, or would know me. Ariel, + Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell; Exit ARIEL + I will discase me, and myself present + As I was sometime Milan. Quickly, spirit + Thou shalt ere long be free. + + ARIEL, on returning, sings and helps to attire him + + Where the bee sucks, there suck I; + In a cowslip's bell I lie; + There I couch when owls do cry. + On the bat's back I do fly + After summer merrily. + Merrily, merrily shall I live now + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. + + PROSPERO. Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee; + But yet thou shalt have freedom. So, so, so. + To the King's ship, invisible as thou art; + There shalt thou find the mariners asleep + Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain + Being awake, enforce them to this place; + And presently, I prithee. + ARIEL. I drink the air before me, and return + Or ere your pulse twice beat. Exit + GONZALO. All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement, + Inhabits here. Some heavenly power guide us + Out of this fearful country! + PROSPERO. Behold, Sir King, + The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero. + For more assurance that a living prince + Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body; + And to thee and thy company I bid + A hearty welcome. + ALONSO. Whe'er thou be'st he or no, + Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me, + As late I have been, I not know. Thy pulse + Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee, + Th' affliction of my mind amends, with which, + I fear, a madness held me. This must crave- + An if this be at all-a most strange story. + Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreat + Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero + Be living and be here? + PROSPERO. First, noble friend, + Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot + Be measur'd or confin'd. + GONZALO. Whether this be + Or be not, I'll not swear. + PROSPERO. You do yet taste + Some subtleties o' th' isle, that will not let you + Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all! + [Aside to SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] But you, my brace of + lords, were I so minded, + I here could pluck his Highness' frown upon you, + And justify you traitors; at this time + I will tell no tales. + SEBASTIAN. [Aside] The devil speaks in him. + PROSPERO. No. + For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother + Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive + Thy rankest fault-all of them; and require + My dukedom of thee, which perforce I know + Thou must restore. + ALONSO. If thou beest Prospero, + Give us particulars of thy preservation; + How thou hast met us here, whom three hours since + Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost- + How sharp the point of this remembrance is!- + My dear son Ferdinand. + PROSPERO. I am woe for't, sir. + ALONSO. Irreparable is the loss; and patience + Says it is past her cure. + PROSPERO. I rather think + You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace + For the like loss I have her sovereign aid, + And rest myself content. + ALONSO. You the like loss! + PROSPERO. As great to me as late; and, supportable + To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker + Than you may call to comfort you, for I + Have lost my daughter. + ALONSO. A daughter! + O heavens, that they were living both in Naples, + The King and Queen there! That they were, I wish + Myself were mudded in that oozy bed + Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter? + PROSPERO. In this last tempest. I perceive these lords + At this encounter do so much admire + That they devour their reason, and scarce think + Their eyes do offices of truth, their words + Are natural breath; but, howsoe'er you have + Been justled from your senses, know for certain + That I am Prospero, and that very duke + Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely + Upon this shore, where you were wrecked, was landed + To be the lord on't. No more yet of this; + For 'tis a chronicle of day by day, + Not a relation for a breakfast, nor + Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir; + This cell's my court; here have I few attendants, + And subjects none abroad; pray you, look in. + My dukedom since you have given me again, + I will requite you with as good a thing; + At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye + As much as me my dukedom. + + Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA, + playing at chess + + MIRANDA. Sweet lord, you play me false. + FERDINAND. No, my dearest love, + I would not for the world. + MIRANDA. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle + And I would call it fair play. + ALONSO. If this prove + A vision of the island, one dear son + Shall I twice lose. + SEBASTIAN. A most high miracle! + FERDINAND. Though the seas threaten, they are merciful; + I have curs'd them without cause. [Kneels] + ALONSO. Now all the blessings + Of a glad father compass thee about! + Arise, and say how thou cam'st here. + MIRANDA. O, wonder! + How many goodly creatures are there here! + How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world + That has such people in't! + PROSPERO. 'Tis new to thee. + ALONSO. What is this maid with whom thou wast at play? + Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours; + Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, + And brought us thus together? + FERDINAND. Sir, she is mortal; + But by immortal Providence she's mine. + I chose her when I could not ask my father + For his advice, nor thought I had one. She + Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, + Of whom so often I have heard renown + But never saw before; of whom I have + Receiv'd a second life; and second father + This lady makes him to me. + ALONSO. I am hers. + But, O, how oddly will it sound that I + Must ask my child forgiveness! + PROSPERO. There, sir, stop; + Let us not burden our remembrances with + A heaviness that's gone. + GONZALO. I have inly wept, + Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods, + And on this couple drop a blessed crown; + For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way + Which brought us hither. + ALONSO. I say, Amen, Gonzalo! + GONZALO. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue + Should become Kings of Naples? O, rejoice + Beyond a common joy, and set it down + With gold on lasting pillars: in one voyage + Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis; + And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife + Where he himself was lost; Prospero his dukedom + In a poor isle; and all of us ourselves + When no man was his own. + ALONSO. [To FERDINAND and MIRANDA] Give me your + hands. + Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart + That doth not wish you joy. + GONZALO. Be it so. Amen! + + Re-enter ARIEL, with the MASTER and BOATSWAIN + amazedly following + + O look, sir; look, sir! Here is more of us! + I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, + This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy, + That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore? + Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? + BOATSWAIN. The best news is that we have safely found + Our King and company; the next, our ship- + Which but three glasses since we gave out split- + Is tight and yare, and bravely rigg'd, as when + We first put out to sea. + ARIEL. [Aside to PROSPERO] Sir, all this service + Have I done since I went. + PROSPERO. [Aside to ARIEL] My tricksy spirit! + ALONSO. These are not natural events; they strengthen + From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither? + BOATSWAIN. If I did think, sir, I were well awake, + I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, + And-how, we know not-all clapp'd under hatches; + Where, but even now, with strange and several noises + Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, + And moe diversity of sounds, all horrible, + We were awak'd; straightway at liberty; + Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld + Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master + Cap'ring to eye her. On a trice, so please you, + Even in a dream, were we divided from them, + And were brought moping hither. + ARIEL. [Aside to PROSPERO] Was't well done? + PROSPERO. [Aside to ARIEL] Bravely, my diligence. Thou + shalt be free. + ALONSO. This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod; + And there is in this business more than nature + Was ever conduct of. Some oracle + Must rectify our knowledge. + PROSPERO. Sir, my liege, + Do not infest your mind with beating on + The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure, + Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you, + Which to you shall seem probable, of every + These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful + And think of each thing well. [Aside to ARIEL] Come + hither, spirit; + Set Caliban and his companions free; + Untie the spell. [Exit ARIEL] How fares my gracious sir? + There are yet missing of your company + Some few odd lads that you remember not. + + Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and + + TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel + STEPHANO. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man + take care for himself; for all is but fortune. Coragio, + bully-monster, coragio! + TRINCULO. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, + here's a goodly sight. + CALIBAN. O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed! + How fine my master is! I am afraid + He will chastise me. + SEBASTIAN. Ha, ha! + What things are these, my lord Antonio? + Will money buy'em? + ANTONIO. Very like; one of them + Is a plain fish, and no doubt marketable. + PROSPERO. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, + Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave- + His mother was a witch, and one so strong + That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, + And deal in her command without her power. + These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil- + For he's a bastard one-had plotted with them + To take my life. Two of these fellows you + Must know and own; this thing of darkness I + Acknowledge mine. + CALIBAN. I shall be pinch'd to death. + ALONSO. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? + SEBASTIAN. He is drunk now; where had he wine? + ALONSO. And Trinculo is reeling ripe; where should they + Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em? + How cam'st thou in this pickle? + TRINCULO. I have been in such a pickle since I saw you + last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones. I + shall not fear fly-blowing. + SEBASTIAN. Why, how now, Stephano! + STEPHANO. O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a + cramp. + PROSPERO. You'd be king o' the isle, sirrah? + STEPHANO. I should have been a sore one, then. + ALONSO. [Pointing to CALIBAN] This is as strange a thing + as e'er I look'd on. + PROSPERO. He is as disproportioned in his manners + As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell; + Take with you your companions; as you look + To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. + CALIBAN. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter, + And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass + Was I to take this drunkard for a god, + And worship this dull fool! + PROSPERO. Go to; away! + ALONSO. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. + SEBASTIAN. Or stole it, rather. + Exeunt CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO + PROSPERO. Sir, I invite your Highness and your train + To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest + For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste + With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it + Go quick away-the story of my life, + And the particular accidents gone by + Since I came to this isle. And in the morn + I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, + Where I have hope to see the nuptial + Of these our dear-belov'd solemnized, + And thence retire me to my Milan, where + Every third thought shall be my grave. + ALONSO. I long + To hear the story of your life, which must + Take the ear strangely. + PROSPERO. I'll deliver all; + And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, + And sail so expeditious that shall catch + Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to ARIEL] My Ariel, + chick, + That is thy charge. Then to the elements + Be free, and fare thou well!-Please you, draw near. + Exeunt + + + +EPILOGUE + EPILOGUE + Spoken by PROSPERO + + Now my charms are all o'erthrown, + And what strength I have's mine own, + Which is most faint. Now 'tis true, + I must be here confin'd by you, + Or sent to Naples. Let me not, + Since I have my dukedom got, + And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell + In this bare island by your spell; + But release me from my bands + With the help of your good hands. + Gentle breath of yours my sails + Must fill, or else my project fails, + Which was to please. Now I want + Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; + And my ending is despair + Unless I be reliev'd by prayer, + Which pierces so that it assaults + Mercy itself, and frees all faults. + As you from crimes would pardon'd be, + Let your indulgence set me free. + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1608 + +THE LIFE OF TIMON OF ATHENS + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + TIMON of Athens + + LUCIUS + LUCULLUS + SEMPRONIUS + flattering lords + + VENTIDIUS, one of Timon's false friends + ALCIBIADES, an Athenian captain + APEMANTUS, a churlish philosopher + FLAVIUS, steward to Timon + + FLAMINIUS + LUCILIUS + SERVILIUS + Timon's servants + + CAPHIS + PHILOTUS + TITUS + HORTENSIUS + servants to Timon's creditors + + POET + PAINTER + JEWELLER + MERCHANT + MERCER + AN OLD ATHENIAN + THREE STRANGERS + A PAGE + A FOOL + + PHRYNIA + TIMANDRA + mistresses to Alcibiades + + CUPID + AMAZONS + in the Masque + + Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Servants, Thieves, and + Attendants + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +Athens and the neighbouring woods + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Athens. TIMON'S house + +Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELLER, MERCHANT, and MERCER, at several doors + + POET. Good day, sir. + PAINTER. I am glad y'are well. + POET. I have not seen you long; how goes the world? + PAINTER. It wears, sir, as it grows. + POET. Ay, that's well known. + But what particular rarity? What strange, + Which manifold record not matches? See, + Magic of bounty, all these spirits thy power + Hath conjur'd to attend! I know the merchant. + PAINTER. I know them both; th' other's a jeweller. + MERCHANT. O, 'tis a worthy lord! + JEWELLER. Nay, that's most fix'd. + MERCHANT. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were, + To an untirable and continuate goodness. + He passes. + JEWELLER. I have a jewel here- + MERCHANT. O, pray let's see't. For the Lord Timon, sir? + JEWELLER. If he will touch the estimate. But for that- + POET. When we for recompense have prais'd the vile, + It stains the glory in that happy verse + Which aptly sings the good. + MERCHANT. [Looking at the jewel] 'Tis a good form. + JEWELLER. And rich. Here is a water, look ye. + PAINTER. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication + To the great lord. + POET. A thing slipp'd idly from me. + Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes + From whence 'tis nourish'd. The fire i' th' flint + Shows not till it be struck: our gentle flame + Provokes itself, and like the current flies + Each bound it chafes. What have you there? + PAINTER. A picture, sir. When comes your book forth? + POET. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. + Let's see your piece. + PAINTER. 'Tis a good piece. + POET. So 'tis; this comes off well and excellent. + PAINTER. Indifferent. + POET. Admirable. How this grace + Speaks his own standing! What a mental power + This eye shoots forth! How big imagination + Moves in this lip! To th' dumbness of the gesture + One might interpret. + PAINTER. It is a pretty mocking of the life. + Here is a touch; is't good? + POET. I will say of it + It tutors nature. Artificial strife + Lives in these touches, livelier than life. + + Enter certain SENATORS, and pass over + + PAINTER. How this lord is followed! + POET. The senators of Athens- happy man! + PAINTER. Look, moe! + POET. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. + I have in this rough work shap'd out a man + Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug + With amplest entertainment. My free drift + Halts not particularly, but moves itself + In a wide sea of tax. No levell'd malice + Infects one comma in the course I hold, + But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, + Leaving no tract behind. + PAINTER. How shall I understand you? + POET. I will unbolt to you. + You see how all conditions, how all minds- + As well of glib and slipp'ry creatures as + Of grave and austere quality, tender down + Their services to Lord Timon. His large fortune, + Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, + Subdues and properties to his love and tendance + All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer + To Apemantus, that few things loves better + Than to abhor himself; even he drops down + The knee before him, and returns in peace + Most rich in Timon's nod. + PAINTER. I saw them speak together. + POET. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill + Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd. The base o' th' mount + Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures + That labour on the bosom of this sphere + To propagate their states. Amongst them all + Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd + One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame, + Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; + Whose present grace to present slaves and servants + Translates his rivals. + PAINTER. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope. + This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, + With one man beckon'd from the rest below, + Bowing his head against the steepy mount + To climb his happiness, would be well express'd + In our condition. + POET. Nay, sir, but hear me on. + All those which were his fellows but of late- + Some better than his value- on the moment + Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, + Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, + Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him + Drink the free air. + PAINTER. Ay, marry, what of these? + POET. When Fortune in her shift and change of mood + Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants, + Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top + Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, + Not one accompanying his declining foot. + PAINTER. 'Tis common. + A thousand moral paintings I can show + That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's + More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well + To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen + The foot above the head. + + Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, addressing himself + courteously to every suitor, a MESSENGER from + VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other + servants following + + TIMON. Imprison'd is he, say you? + MESSENGER. Ay, my good lord. Five talents is his debt; + His means most short, his creditors most strait. + Your honourable letter he desires + To those have shut him up; which failing, + Periods his comfort. + TIMON. Noble Ventidius! Well. + I am not of that feather to shake of + My friend when he must need me. I do know him + A gentleman that well deserves a help, + Which he shall have. I'll pay the debt, and free him. + MESSENGER. Your lordship ever binds him. + TIMON. Commend me to him; I will send his ransom; + And being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me. + 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, + But to support him after. Fare you well. + MESSENGER. All happiness to your honour! Exit + + Enter an OLD ATHENIAN + + OLD ATHENIAN. Lord Timon, hear me speak. + TIMON. Freely, good father. + OLD ATHENIAN. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius. + TIMON. I have so; what of him? + OLD ATHENIAN. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. + TIMON. Attends he here, or no? Lucilius! + LUCILIUS. Here, at your lordship's service. + OLD ATHENIAN. This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature, + By night frequents my house. I am a man + That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift, + And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd + Than one which holds a trencher. + TIMON. Well; what further? + OLD ATHENIAN. One only daughter have I, no kin else, + On whom I may confer what I have got. + The maid is fair, o' th' youngest for a bride, + And I have bred her at my dearest cost + In qualities of the best. This man of thine + Attempts her love; I prithee, noble lord, + Join with me to forbid him her resort; + Myself have spoke in vain. + TIMON. The man is honest. + OLD ATHENIAN. Therefore he will be, Timon. + His honesty rewards him in itself; + It must not bear my daughter. + TIMON. Does she love him? + OLD ATHENIAN. She is young and apt: + Our own precedent passions do instruct us + What levity's in youth. + TIMON. Love you the maid? + LUCILIUS. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it. + OLD ATHENIAN. If in her marriage my consent be missing, + I call the gods to witness I will choose + Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, + And dispossess her all. + TIMON. How shall she be endow'd, + If she be mated with an equal husband? + OLD ATHENIAN. Three talents on the present; in future, all. + TIMON. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long;. + To build his fortune I will strain a little, + For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter: + What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise, + And make him weigh with her. + OLD ATHENIAN. Most noble lord, + Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. + TIMON. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise. + LUCILIUS. Humbly I thank your lordship. Never may + That state or fortune fall into my keeping + Which is not owed to you! + Exeunt LUCILIUS and OLD ATHENIAN + POET. [Presenting his poem] Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your + lordship! + TIMON. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon; + Go not away. What have you there, my friend? + PAINTER. A piece of painting, which I do beseech + Your lordship to accept. + TIMON. Painting is welcome. + The painting is almost the natural man; + For since dishonour traffics with man's nature, + He is but outside; these pencill'd figures are + Even such as they give out. I like your work, + And you shall find I like it; wait attendance + Till you hear further from me. + PAINTER. The gods preserve ye! + TIMON. Well fare you, gentleman. Give me your hand; + We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel + Hath suffered under praise. + JEWELLER. What, my lord! Dispraise? + TIMON. A mere satiety of commendations; + If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd, + It would unclew me quite. + JEWELLER. My lord, 'tis rated + As those which sell would give; but you well know + Things of like value, differing in the owners, + Are prized by their masters. Believe't, dear lord, + You mend the jewel by the wearing it. + TIMON. Well mock'd. + + Enter APEMANTUS + + MERCHANT. No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue, + Which all men speak with him. + TIMON. Look who comes here; will you be chid? + JEWELLER. We'll bear, with your lordship. + MERCHANT. He'll spare none. + TIMON. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus! + APEMANTUS. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; + When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest. + TIMON. Why dost thou call them knaves? Thou know'st them not. + APEMANTUS. Are they not Athenians? + TIMON. Yes. + APEMANTUS. Then I repent not. + JEWELLER. You know me, Apemantus? + APEMANTUS. Thou know'st I do; I call'd thee by thy name. + TIMON. Thou art proud, Apemantus. + APEMANTUS. Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon. + TIMON. Whither art going? + APEMANTUS. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains. + TIMON. That's a deed thou't die for. + APEMANTUS. Right, if doing nothing be death by th' law. + TIMON. How lik'st thou this picture, Apemantus? + APEMANTUS. The best, for the innocence. + TIMON. Wrought he not well that painted it? + APEMANTUS. He wrought better that made the painter; and yet he's + but a filthy piece of work. + PAINTER. Y'are a dog. + APEMANTUS. Thy mother's of my generation; what's she, if I be a dog? + TIMON. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus? + APEMANTUS. No; I eat not lords. + TIMON. An thou shouldst, thou'dst anger ladies. + APEMANTUS. O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies. + TIMON. That's a lascivious apprehension. + APEMANTUS. So thou apprehend'st it take it for thy labour. + TIMON. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus? + APEMANTUS. Not so well as plain dealing, which will not cost a man + a doit. + TIMON. What dost thou think 'tis worth? + APEMANTUS. Not worth my thinking. How now, poet! + POET. How now, philosopher! + APEMANTUS. Thou liest. + POET. Art not one? + APEMANTUS. Yes. + POET. Then I lie not. + APEMANTUS. Art not a poet? + POET. Yes. + APEMANTUS. Then thou liest. Look in thy last work, where thou hast + feign'd him a worthy fellow. + POET. That's not feign'd- he is so. + APEMANTUS. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy + labour. He that loves to be flattered is worthy o' th' flatterer. + Heavens, that I were a lord! + TIMON. What wouldst do then, Apemantus? + APEMANTUS. E'en as Apemantus does now: hate a lord with my heart. + TIMON. What, thyself? + APEMANTUS. Ay. + TIMON. Wherefore? + APEMANTUS. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.- Art not thou a + merchant? + MERCHANT. Ay, Apemantus. + APEMANTUS. Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not! + MERCHANT. If traffic do it, the gods do it. + APEMANTUS. Traffic's thy god, and thy god confound thee! + + Trumpet sounds. Enter a MESSENGER + + TIMON. What trumpet's that? + MESSENGER. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse, + All of companionship. + TIMON. Pray entertain them; give them guide to us. + Exeunt some attendants + You must needs dine with me. Go not you hence + Till I have thank'd you. When dinner's done + Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights. + + Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest + + Most welcome, sir! [They salute] + APEMANTUS. So, so, there! + Aches contract and starve your supple joints! + That there should be small love amongst these sweet knaves, + And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out + Into baboon and monkey. + ALCIBIADES. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed + Most hungerly on your sight. + TIMON. Right welcome, sir! + Ere we depart we'll share a bounteous time + In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. + Exeunt all but APEMANTUS + + Enter two LORDS + + FIRST LORD. What time o' day is't, Apemantus? + APEMANTUS. Time to be honest. + FIRST LORD. That time serves still. + APEMANTUS. The more accursed thou that still omit'st it. + SECOND LORD. Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast. + APEMANTUS. Ay; to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools. + SECOND LORD. Fare thee well, fare thee well. + APEMANTUS. Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice. + SECOND LORD. Why, Apemantus? + APEMANTUS. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give + thee none. + FIRST LORD. Hang thyself. + APEMANTUS. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding; make thy requests + to thy friend. + SECOND LORD. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence. + APEMANTUS. I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' th' ass. Exit + FIRST LORD. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in + And taste Lord Timon's bounty? He outgoes + The very heart of kindness. + SECOND LORD. He pours it out: Plutus, the god of gold, + Is but his steward; no meed but he repays + Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him + But breeds the giver a return exceeding + All use of quittance. + FIRST LORD. The noblest mind he carries + That ever govern'd man. + SECOND LORD. Long may he live in fortunes! shall we in? + FIRST LORD. I'll keep you company. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +A room of state in TIMON'S house + +Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet serv'd in; +FLAVIUS and others attending; and then enter LORD TIMON, the states, +the ATHENIAN LORDS, VENTIDIUS, which TIMON redeem'd from prison. +Then comes, dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly, like himself + + VENTIDIUS. Most honoured Timon, + It hath pleas'd the gods to remember my father's age, + And call him to long peace. + He is gone happy, and has left me rich. + Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound + To your free heart, I do return those talents, + Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help + I deriv'd liberty. + TIMON. O, by no means, + Honest Ventidius! You mistake my love; + I gave it freely ever; and there's none + Can truly say he gives, if he receives. + If our betters play at that game, we must not dare + To imitate them: faults that are rich are fair. + VENTIDIUS. A noble spirit! + TIMON. Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devis'd at first + To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, + Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; + But where there is true friendship there needs none. + Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes + Than my fortunes to me. [They sit] + FIRST LORD. My lord, we always have confess'd it. + APEMANTUS. Ho, ho, confess'd it! Hang'd it, have you not? + TIMON. O, Apemantus, you are welcome. + APEMANTUS. No; + You shall not make me welcome. + I come to have thee thrust me out of doors. + TIMON. Fie, th'art a churl; ye have got a humour there + Does not become a man; 'tis much to blame. + They say, my lords, Ira furor brevis est; but yond man is ever + angry. Go, let him have a table by himself; for he does neither + affect company nor is he fit for't indeed. + APEMANTUS. Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon. + I come to observe; I give thee warning on't. + TIMON. I take no heed of thee. Th'art an Athenian, therefore + welcome. I myself would have no power; prithee let my meat make + thee silent. + APEMANTUS. I scorn thy meat; 't'would choke me, for I should ne'er + flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of men eats Timon, and he + sees 'em not! It grieves me to see so many dip their meat in one + man's blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them up too. + I wonder men dare trust themselves with men. + Methinks they should invite them without knives: + Good for their meat and safer for their lives. + There's much example for't; the fellow that sits next him now, + parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a divided + draught, is the readiest man to kill him. 'T has been proved. If + I were a huge man I should fear to drink at meals. + Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes: + Great men should drink with harness on their throats. + TIMON. My lord, in heart! and let the health go round. + SECOND LORD. Let it flow this way, my good lord. + APEMANTUS. Flow this way! A brave fellow! He keeps his tides well. + Those healths will make thee and thy state look ill, Timon. + Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, honest water, which + ne'er left man i' th' mire. + This and my food are equals; there's no odds.' + Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. + + APEMANTUS' Grace + + Immortal gods, I crave no pelf; + I pray for no man but myself. + Grant I may never prove so fond + To trust man on his oath or bond, + Or a harlot for her weeping, + Or a dog that seems a-sleeping, + Or a keeper with my freedom, + Or my friends, if I should need 'em. + Amen. So fall to't. + Rich men sin, and I eat root. [Eats and drinks] + + Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus! + TIMON. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now. + ALCIBIADES. My heart is ever at your service, my lord. + TIMON. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than dinner of + friends. + ALCIBIADES. So they were bleeding new, my lord, there's no meat + like 'em; I could wish my best friend at such a feast. + APEMANTUS. Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then, that + then thou mightst kill 'em, and bid me to 'em. + FIRST LORD. Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you + would once use our hearts, whereby we might express some part of + our zeals, we should think ourselves for ever perfect. + TIMON. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have + provided that I shall have much help from you. How had you been + my friends else? Why have you that charitable title from + thousands, did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told + more of you to myself than you can with modesty speak in your own + behalf; and thus far I confirm you. O you gods, think I, what + need we have any friends if we should ne'er have need of 'em? + They were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er + have use for 'em; and would most resemble sweet instruments hung + up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have + often wish'd myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We + are born to do benefits; and what better or properer can we call + our own than the riches of our friends? O, what a precious + comfort 'tis to have so many like brothers commanding one + another's fortunes! O, joy's e'en made away ere't can be born! + Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks. To forget their + faults, I drink to you. + APEMANTUS. Thou weep'st to make them drink, Timon. + SECOND LORD. Joy had the like conception in our eyes, + And at that instant like a babe sprung up. + APEMANTUS. Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard. + THIRD LORD. I promise you, my lord, you mov'd me much. + APEMANTUS. Much! [Sound tucket] + TIMON. What means that trump? + + Enter a SERVANT + + How now? + SERVANT. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most + desirous of admittance. + TIMON. Ladies! What are their wills? + SERVANT. There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears + that office to signify their pleasures. + TIMON. I pray let them be admitted. + + Enter CUPID + CUPID. Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all + That of his bounties taste! The five best Senses + Acknowledge thee their patron, and come freely + To gratulate thy plenteous bosom. Th' Ear, + Taste, Touch, Smell, pleas'd from thy table rise; + They only now come but to feast thine eyes. + TIMON. They're welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance. + Music, make their welcome. Exit CUPID + FIRST LORD. You see, my lord, how ample y'are belov'd. + + Music. Re-enter CUPID, witb a Masque of LADIES as Amazons, + with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing + + APEMANTUS. Hoy-day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way! + They dance? They are mad women. + Like madness is the glory of this life, + As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. + We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves, + And spend our flatteries to drink those men + Upon whose age we void it up again + With poisonous spite and envy. + Who lives that's not depraved or depraves? + Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves + Of their friends' gift? + I should fear those that dance before me now + Would one day stamp upon me. 'T has been done: + Men shut their doors against a setting sun. + + The LORDS rise from table, with much adoring of + TIMON; and to show their loves, each single out an + Amazon, and all dance, men witb women, a lofty + strain or two to the hautboys, and cease + + TIMON. You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies, + Set a fair fashion on our entertainment, + Which was not half so beautiful and kind; + You have added worth unto't and lustre, + And entertain'd me with mine own device; + I am to thank you for't. + FIRST LADY. My lord, you take us even at the best. + APEMANTUS. Faith, for the worst is filthy, and would not hold + taking, I doubt me. + TIMON. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you; + Please you to dispose yourselves. + ALL LADIES. Most thankfully, my lord. + Exeunt CUPID and LADIES + TIMON. Flavius! + FLAVIUS. My lord? + TIMON. The little casket bring me hither. + FLAVIUS. Yes, my lord. [Aside] More jewels yet! + There is no crossing him in's humour, + Else I should tell him- well i' faith, I should- + When all's spent, he'd be cross'd then, an he could. + 'Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind, + That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind. Exit + FIRST LORD. Where be our men? + SERVANT. Here, my lord, in readiness. + SECOND LORD. Our horses! + + Re-enter FLAVIUS, with the casket + + TIMON. O my friends, + I have one word to say to you. Look you, my good lord, + I must entreat you honour me so much + As to advance this jewel; accept it and wear it, + Kind my lord. + FIRST LORD. I am so far already in your gifts- + ALL. So are we all. + + Enter a SERVANT + + SERVANT. My lord, there are certain nobles of the Senate newly + alighted and come to visit you. + TIMON. They are fairly welcome. Exit SERVANT + FLAVIUS. I beseech your honour, vouchsafe me a word; it does + concern you near. + TIMON. Near! Why then, another time I'll hear thee. I prithee let's + be provided to show them entertainment. + FLAVIUS. [Aside] I scarce know how. + + Enter another SERVANT + + SECOND SERVANT. May it please vour honour, Lord Lucius, out of his + free love, hath presented to you four milk-white horses, trapp'd + in silver. + TIMON. I shall accept them fairly. Let the presents + Be worthily entertain'd. Exit SERVANT + + Enter a third SERVANT + + How now! What news? + THIRD SERVANT. Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord + Lucullus, entreats your company to-morrow to hunt with him and + has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds. + TIMON. I'll hunt with him; and let them be receiv'd, + Not without fair reward. Exit SERVANT + FLAVIUS. [Aside] What will this come to? + He commands us to provide and give great gifts, + And all out of an empty coffer; + Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this, + To show him what a beggar his heart is, + Being of no power to make his wishes good. + His promises fly so beyond his state + That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes + For ev'ry word. He is so kind that he now + Pays interest for't; his land's put to their books. + Well, would I were gently put out of office + Before I were forc'd out! + Happier is he that has no friend to feed + Than such that do e'en enemies exceed. + I bleed inwardly for my lord. Exit + TIMON. You do yourselves much wrong; + You bate too much of your own merits. + Here, my lord, a trifle of our love. + SECOND LORD. With more than common thanks I will receive it. + THIRD LORD. O, he's the very soul of bounty! + TIMON. And now I remember, my lord, you gave good words the other + day of a bay courser I rode on. 'Tis yours because you lik'd it. + THIRD LORD. O, I beseech you pardon me, my lord, in that. + TIMON. You may take my word, my lord: I know no man + Can justly praise but what he does affect. + I weigh my friend's affection with mine own. + I'll tell you true; I'll call to you. + ALL LORDS. O, none so welcome! + TIMON. I take all and your several visitations + So kind to heart 'tis not enough to give; + Methinks I could deal kingdoms to my friends + And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades, + Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich. + It comes in charity to thee; for all thy living + Is 'mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast + Lie in a pitch'd field. + ALCIBIADES. Ay, defil'd land, my lord. + FIRST LORD. We are so virtuously bound- + TIMON. And so am I to you. + SECOND LORD. So infinitely endear'd- + TIMON. All to you. Lights, more lights! + FIRST LORD. The best of happiness, honour, and fortunes, keep with + you, Lord Timon! + TIMON. Ready for his friends. + Exeunt all but APEMANTUS and TIMON + APEMANTUS. What a coil's here! + Serving of becks and jutting-out of bums! + I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums + That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs: + Methinks false hearts should never have sound legs. + Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on curtsies. + TIMON. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen + I would be good to thee. + APEMANTUS. No, I'll nothing; for if I should be brib'd too, there + would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin + the faster. Thou giv'st so long, Timon, I fear me thou wilt give + away thyself in paper shortly. What needs these feasts, pomps, + and vain-glories? + TIMON. Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am sworn not to + give regard to you. Farewell; and come with better music. + Exit + APEMANTUS. So. Thou wilt not hear me now: thou shalt not then. I'll + lock thy heaven from thee. + O that men's ears should be + To counsel deaf, but not to flattery! Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +A SENATOR'S house + +Enter A SENATOR, with papers in his hand + + SENATOR. And late, five thousand. To Varro and to Isidore + He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum, + Which makes it five and twenty. Still in motion + Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not. + If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog + And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold. + If I would sell my horse and buy twenty moe + Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon, + Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me straight, + And able horses. No porter at his gate, + But rather one that smiles and still invites + All that pass by. It cannot hold; no reason + Can sound his state in safety. Caphis, ho! + Caphis, I say! + + Enter CAPHIS + + CAPHIS. Here, sir; what is your pleasure? + SENATOR. Get on your cloak and haste you to Lord Timon; + Importune him for my moneys; be not ceas'd + With slight denial, nor then silenc'd when + 'Commend me to your master' and the cap + Plays in the right hand, thus; but tell him + My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn + Out of mine own; his days and times are past, + And my reliances on his fracted dates + Have smit my credit. I love and honour him, + But must not break my back to heal his finger. + Immediate are my needs, and my relief + Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words, + But find supply immediate. Get you gone; + Put on a most importunate aspect, + A visage of demand; for I do fear, + When every feather sticks in his own wing, + Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, + Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone. + CAPHIS. I go, sir. + SENATOR. Take the bonds along with you, + And have the dates in compt. + CAPHIS. I will, sir. + SENATOR. Go. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Before TIMON'S house + +Enter FLAVIUS, TIMON'S Steward, with many bills in his hand + + FLAVIUS. No care, no stop! So senseless of expense + That he will neither know how to maintain it + Nor cease his flow of riot; takes no account + How things go from him, nor resumes no care + Of what is to continue. Never mind + Was to be so unwise to be so kind. + What shall be done? He will not hear till feel. + I must be round with him. Now he comes from hunting. + Fie, fie, fie, fie! + + Enter CAPHIS, and the SERVANTS Of ISIDORE and VARRO + + CAPHIS. Good even, Varro. What, you come for money? + VARRO'S SERVANT. Is't not your business too? + CAPHIS. It is. And yours too, Isidore? + ISIDORE'S SERVANT. It is so. + CAPHIS. Would we were all discharg'd! + VARRO'S SERVANT. I fear it. + CAPHIS. Here comes the lord. + + Enter TIMON and his train, with ALCIBIADES + + TIMON. So soon as dinner's done we'll forth again, + My Alcibiades.- With me? What is your will? + CAPHIS. My lord, here is a note of certain dues. + TIMON. Dues! Whence are you? + CAPHIS. Of Athens here, my lord. + TIMON. Go to my steward. + CAPHIS. Please it your lordship, he hath put me off + To the succession of new days this month. + My master is awak'd by great occasion + To call upon his own, and humbly prays you + That with your other noble parts you'll suit + In giving him his right. + TIMON. Mine honest friend, + I prithee but repair to me next morning. + CAPHIS. Nay, good my lord- + TIMON. Contain thyself, good friend. + VARRO'S SERVANT. One Varro's servant, my good lord- + ISIDORE'S SERVANT. From Isidore: he humbly prays your speedy + payment- + CAPHIS. If you did know, my lord, my master's wants- + VARRO'S SERVANT. 'Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six weeks and + past. + ISIDORE'S SERVANT. Your steward puts me off, my lord; and + I am sent expressly to your lordship. + TIMON. Give me breath. + I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on; + I'll wait upon you instantly. + Exeunt ALCIBIADES and LORDS + [To FLAVIUS] Come hither. Pray you, + How goes the world that I am thus encount'red + With clamorous demands of date-broke bonds + And the detention of long-since-due debts, + Against my honour? + FLAVIUS. Please you, gentlemen, + The time is unagreeable to this business. + Your importunacy cease till after dinner, + That I may make his lordship understand + Wherefore you are not paid. + TIMON. Do so, my friends. + See them well entertain'd. Exit + FLAVIUS. Pray draw near. Exit + + Enter APEMANTUS and FOOL + + CAPHIS. Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus. + Let's ha' some sport with 'em. + VARRO'S SERVANT. Hang him, he'll abuse us! + ISIDORE'S SERVANT. A plague upon him, dog! + VARRO'S SERVANT. How dost, fool? + APEMANTUS. Dost dialogue with thy shadow? + VARRO'S SERVANT. I speak not to thee. + APEMANTUS. No, 'tis to thyself. [To the FOOL] Come away. + ISIDORE'S SERVANT. [To VARRO'S SERVANT] There's the fool hangs on + your back already. + APEMANTUS. No, thou stand'st single; th'art not on him yet. + CAPHIS. Where's the fool now? + APEMANTUS. He last ask'd the question. Poor rogues and usurers' + men! Bawds between gold and want! + ALL SERVANTS. What are we, Apemantus? + APEMANTUS. Asses. + ALL SERVANTS. Why? + APEMANTUS. That you ask me what you are, and do not know + yourselves. Speak to 'em, fool. + FOOL. How do you, gentlemen? + ALL SERVANTS. Gramercies, good fool. How does your mistress? + FOOL. She's e'en setting on water to scald such chickens as you + are. Would we could see you at Corinth! + APEMANTUS. Good! gramercy. + + Enter PAGE + + FOOL. Look you, here comes my mistress' page. + PAGE. [To the FOOL] Why, how now, Captain? What do you in this wise + company? How dost thou, Apemantus? + APEMANTUS. Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee + profitably! + PAGE. Prithee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of these + letters; I know not which is which. + APEMANTUS. Canst not read? + PAGE. No. + APEMANTUS. There will little learning die, then, that day thou art + hang'd. This is to Lord Timon; this to Alcibiades. Go; thou wast + born a bastard, and thou't die a bawd. + PAGE. Thou wast whelp'd a dog, and thou shalt famish dog's death. + Answer not: I am gone. Exit PAGE + APEMANTUS. E'en so thou outrun'st grace. + Fool, I will go with you to Lord Timon's. + FOOL. Will you leave me there? + APEMANTUS. If Timon stay at home. You three serve three usurers? + ALL SERVANTS. Ay; would they serv'd us! + APEMANTUS. So would I- as good a trick as ever hangman serv'd + thief. + FOOL. Are you three usurers' men? + ALL SERVANTS. Ay, fool. + FOOL. I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant. My mistress + is one, and I am her fool. When men come to borrow of your + masters, they approach sadly and go away merry; but they enter my + mistress' house merrily and go away sadly. The reason of this? + VARRO'S SERVANT. I could render one. + APEMANTUS. Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster and a + knave; which notwithstanding, thou shalt be no less esteemed. + VARRO'S SERVANT. What is a whoremaster, fool? + FOOL. A fool in good clothes, and something like thee. 'Tis a + spirit. Sometime 't appears like a lord; sometime like a lawyer; + sometime like a philosopher, with two stones moe than's + artificial one. He is very often like a knight; and, generally, + in all shapes that man goes up and down in from fourscore to + thirteen, this spirit walks in. + VARRO'S SERVANT. Thou art not altogether a fool. + FOOL. Nor thou altogether a wise man. + As much foolery as I have, so much wit thou lack'st. + APEMANTUS. That answer might have become Apemantus. + VARRO'S SERVANT. Aside, aside; here comes Lord Timon. + + Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS + + APEMANTUS. Come with me, fool, come. + FOOL. I do not always follow lover, elder brother, and woman; + sometime the philosopher. + Exeunt APEMANTUS and FOOL + FLAVIUS. Pray you walk near; I'll speak with you anon. + Exeunt SERVANTS + TIMON. You make me marvel wherefore ere this time + Had you not fully laid my state before me, + That I might so have rated my expense + As I had leave of means. + FLAVIUS. You would not hear me + At many leisures I propos'd. + TIMON. Go to; + Perchance some single vantages you took + When my indisposition put you back, + And that unaptness made your minister + Thus to excuse yourself. + FLAVIUS. O my good lord, + At many times I brought in my accounts, + Laid them before you; you would throw them off + And say you found them in mine honesty. + When, for some trifling present, you have bid me + Return so much, I have shook my head and wept; + Yea, 'gainst th' authority of manners, pray'd you + To hold your hand more close. I did endure + Not seldom, nor no slight checks, when I have + Prompted you in the ebb of your estate + And your great flow of debts. My lov'd lord, + Though you hear now- too late!- yet now's a time: + The greatest of your having lacks a half + To pay your present debts. + TIMON. Let all my land be sold. + FLAVIUS. 'Tis all engag'd, some forfeited and gone; + And what remains will hardly stop the mouth + Of present dues. The future comes apace; + What shall defend the interim? And at length + How goes our reck'ning? + TIMON. To Lacedaemon did my land extend. + FLAVIUS. O my good lord, the world is but a word; + Were it all yours to give it in a breath, + How quickly were it gone! + TIMON. You tell me true. + FLAVIUS. If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood, + Call me before th' exactest auditors + And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, + When all our offices have been oppress'd + With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept + With drunken spilth of wine, when every room + Hath blaz'd with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy, + I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock + And set mine eyes at flow. + TIMON. Prithee no more. + FLAVIUS. 'Heavens,' have I said 'the bounty of this lord! + How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants + This night englutted! Who is not Lord Timon's? + What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is Lord Timon's? + Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon!' + Ah! when the means are gone that buy this praise, + The breath is gone whereof this praise is made. + Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter show'rs, + These flies are couch'd. + TIMON. Come, sermon me no further. + No villainous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart; + Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. + Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack + To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart: + If I would broach the vessels of my love, + And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, + Men and men's fortunes could I frankly use + As I can bid thee speak. + FLAVIUS. Assurance bless your thoughts! + TIMON. And, in some sort, these wants of mine are crown'd + That I account them blessings; for by these + Shall I try friends. You shall perceive how you + Mistake my fortunes; I am wealthy in my friends. + Within there! Flaminius! Servilius! + + Enter FLAMINIUS, SERVILIUS, and another SERVANT + + SERVANTS. My lord! my lord! + TIMON. I will dispatch you severally- you to Lord Lucius; to Lord + Lucullus you; I hunted with his honour to-day. You to Sempronius. + Commend me to their loves; and I am proud, say, that my occasions + have found time to use 'em toward a supply of money. Let the + request be fifty talents. + FLAMINIUS. As you have said, my lord. Exeunt SERVANTS + FLAVIUS. [Aside] Lord Lucius and Lucullus? Humh! + TIMON. Go you, sir, to the senators, + Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have + Deserv'd this hearing. Bid 'em send o' th' instant + A thousand talents to me. + FLAVIUS. I have been bold, + For that I knew it the most general way, + To them to use your signet and your name; + But they do shake their heads, and I am here + No richer in return. + TIMON. Is't true? Can't be? + FLAVIUS. They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, + That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot + Do what they would, are sorry- you are honourable- + But yet they could have wish'd- they know not- + Something hath been amiss- a noble nature + May catch a wrench- would all were well!- 'tis pity- + And so, intending other serious matters, + After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions, + With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods, + They froze me into silence. + TIMON. You gods, reward them! + Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows + Have their ingratitude in them hereditary. + Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom flows; + 'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind; + And nature, as it grows again toward earth, + Is fashion'd for the journey dull and heavy. + Go to Ventidius. Prithee be not sad, + Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak, + No blame belongs to thee. Ventidius lately + Buried his father, by whose death he's stepp'd + Into a great estate. When he was poor, + Imprison'd, and in scarcity of friends, + I clear'd him with five talents. Greet him from me, + Bid him suppose some good necessity + Touches his friend, which craves to be rememb'red + With those five talents. That had, give't these fellows + To whom 'tis instant due. Nev'r speak or think + That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sink. + FLAVIUS. I would I could not think it. + That thought is bounty's foe; + Being free itself, it thinks all others so. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +LUCULLUS' house + +FLAMINIUS waiting to speak with LUCULLUS. Enter SERVANT to him + + SERVANT. I have told my lord of you; he is coming down to you. + FLAMINIUS. I thank you, sir. + + Enter LUCULLUS + + SERVANT. Here's my lord. + LUCULLUS. [Aside] One of Lord Timon's men? A gift, I warrant. Why, + this hits right; I dreamt of a silver basin and ewer to-night- + Flaminius, honest Flaminius, you are very respectively welcome, + sir. Fill me some wine. [Exit SERVANT] And how does that + honourable, complete, freehearted gentleman of Athens, thy very + bountiful good lord and master? + FLAMINIUS. His health is well, sir. + LUCULLUS. I am right glad that his health is well, sir. And what + hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius? + FLAMINIUS. Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir, which in my lord's + behalf I come to entreat your honour to supply; who, having + great and instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent to + your lordship to furnish him, nothing doubting your present + assistance therein. + LUCULLIUS. La, la, la, la! 'Nothing doubting' says he? Alas, good + lord! a noble gentleman 'tis, if he would not keep so good a + house. Many a time and often I ha' din'd with him and told him + on't; and come again to supper to him of purpose to have him + spend less; and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning + by my coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty is his. I ha' + told him on't, but I could ne'er get him from't. + + Re-enter SERVANT, with wine + + SERVANT. Please your lordship, here is the wine. + LUCULLUS. Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. Here's to thee. + FLAMINIUS. Your lordship speaks your pleasure. + LUCULLUS. I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt spirit, + give thee thy due, and one that knows what belongs to reason, and + canst use the time well, if the time use thee well. Good parts in + thee. [To SERVANT] Get you gone, sirrah. [Exit SERVANT] Draw + nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy lord's a bountiful gentleman; but + thou art wise, and thou know'st well enough, although thou com'st + to me, that this is no time to lend money, especially upon bare + friendship without security. Here's three solidares for thee. + Good boy, wink at me, and say thou saw'st me not. Fare thee well. + FLAMINIUS. Is't possible the world should so much differ, + And we alive that liv'd? Fly, damned baseness, + To him that worships thee. [Throwing the money back] + LUCULLUS. Ha! Now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master. + Exit + FLAMINIUS. May these add to the number that may scald thee! + Let molten coin be thy damnation, + Thou disease of a friend and not himself! + Has friendship such a faint and milky heart + It turns in less than two nights? O you gods, + I feel my master's passion! This slave + Unto his honour has my lord's meat in him; + Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment + When he is turn'd to poison? + O, may diseases only work upon't! + And when he's sick to death, let not that part of nature + Which my lord paid for be of any power + To expel sickness, but prolong his hour! Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +A public place + +Enter Lucius, with three STRANGERS + + LUCIUS. Who, the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend, and an + honourable gentleman. + FIRST STRANGER. We know him for no less, though we are but + strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord, and + which I hear from common rumours: now Lord Timon's happy hours + are done and past, and his estate shrinks from him. + LUCIUS. Fie, no: do not believe it; he cannot want for money. + SECOND STRANGER. But believe you this, my lord, that not long ago + one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus to borrow so many + talents; nay, urg'd extremely for't, and showed what necessity + belong'd to't, and yet was denied. + LUCIUS. How? + SECOND STRANGER. I tell you, denied, my lord. + LUCIUS. What a strange case was that! Now, before the gods, I am + asham'd on't. Denied that honourable man! There was very little + honour show'd in't. For my own part, I must needs confess I have + received some small kindnesses from him, as money, plate, jewels, + and such-like trifles, nothing comparing to his; yet, had he + mistook him and sent to me, I should ne'er have denied his + occasion so many talents. + + Enter SERVILIUS + + SERVILIUS. See, by good hap, yonder's my lord; I have sweat to see + his honour.- My honour'd lord! + LUCIUS. Servilius? You are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well; commend + me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend. + SERVILIUS. May it please your honour, my lord hath sent- + LUCIUS. Ha! What has he sent? I am so much endeared to that lord: + he's ever sending. How shall I thank him, think'st thou? And what + has he sent now? + SERVILIUS. Has only sent his present occasion now, my lord, + requesting your lordship to supply his instant use with so many + talents. + LUCIUS. I know his lordship is but merry with me; + He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents. + SERVILIUS. But in the mean time he wants less, my lord. + If his occasion were not virtuous + I should not urge it half so faithfully. + LUCIUS. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius? + SERVILIUS. Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir. + LUCIUS. What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish myself against such + a good time, when I might ha' shown myself honourable! How + unluckily it happ'ned that I should purchase the day before for a + little part and undo a great deal of honour! Servilius, now + before the gods, I am not able to do- the more beast, I say! I + was sending to use Lord Timon myself, these gentlemen can + witness; but I would not for the wealth of Athens I had done't + now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship, and I hope his + honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power + to be kind. And tell him this from me: I count it one of my + greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an + honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far + as to use mine own words to him? + SERVILIUS. Yes, sir, I shall. + LUCIUS. I'll look you out a good turn, Servilius. + Exit SERVILIUS + True, as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed; + And he that's once denied will hardly speed. Exit + FIRST STRANGER. Do you observe this, Hostilius? + SECOND STRANGER. Ay, too well. + FIRST STRANGER. Why, this is the world's soul; and just of the same + piece + Is every flatterer's spirit. Who can call him his friend + That dips in the same dish? For, in my knowing, + Timon has been this lord's father, + And kept his credit with his purse; + Supported his estate; nay, Timon's money + Has paid his men their wages. He ne'er drinks + But Timon's silver treads upon his lip; + And yet- O, see the monstrousness of man + When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!- + He does deny him, in respect of his, + What charitable men afford to beggars. + THIRD STRANGER. Religion groans at it. + FIRST STRANGER. For mine own part, + I never tasted Timon in my life, + Nor came any of his bounties over me + To mark me for his friend; yet I protest, + For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue, + And honourable carriage, + Had his necessity made use of me, + I would have put my wealth into donation, + And the best half should have return'd to him, + So much I love his heart. But I perceive + Men must learn now with pity to dispense; + For policy sits above conscience. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +SEMPRONIUS' house + +Enter SEMPRONIUS and a SERVANT of TIMON'S + + SEMPRONIUS. Must he needs trouble me in't? Hum! 'Bove all others? + He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus; + And now Ventidius is wealthy too, + Whom he redeem'd from prison. All these + Owe their estates unto him. + SERVANT. My lord, + They have all been touch'd and found base metal, for + They have all denied him. + SEMPRONIUS. How! Have they denied him? + Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him? + And does he send to me? Three? Humh! + It shows but little love or judgment in him. + Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like physicians, + Thrice give him over. Must I take th' cure upon me? + Has much disgrac'd me in't; I'm angry at him, + That might have known my place. I see no sense for't, + But his occasions might have woo'd me first; + For, in my conscience, I was the first man + That e'er received gift from him. + And does he think so backwardly of me now + That I'll requite it last? No; + So it may prove an argument of laughter + To th' rest, and I 'mongst lords be thought a fool. + I'd rather than the worth of thrice the sum + Had sent to me first, but for my mind's sake; + I'd such a courage to do him good. But now return, + And with their faint reply this answer join: + Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin. Exit + SERVANT. Excellent! Your lordship's a goodly villain. The devil + knew not what he did when he made man politic- he cross'd himself + by't; and I cannot think but, in the end, the villainies of man + will set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to appear foul! + Takes virtuous copies to be wicked, like those that under hot + ardent zeal would set whole realms on fire. + Of such a nature is his politic love. + This was my lord's best hope; now all are fled, + Save only the gods. Now his friends are dead, + Doors that were ne'er acquainted with their wards + Many a bounteous year must be employ'd + Now to guard sure their master. + And this is all a liberal course allows: + Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +A hall in TIMON'S house + +Enter two Of VARRO'S MEN, meeting LUCIUS' SERVANT, and others, +all being servants of TIMON's creditors, to wait for his coming out. +Then enter TITUS and HORTENSIUS + + FIRST VARRO'S SERVANT. Well met; good morrow, Titus and Hortensius. + TITUS. The like to you, kind Varro. + HORTENSIUS. Lucius! What, do we meet together? + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Ay, and I think one business does command us all; + for mine is money. + TITUS. So is theirs and ours. + + Enter PHILOTUS + + LUCIUS' SERVANT. And Sir Philotus too! + PHILOTUS. Good day at once. + LUCIUS' SERVANT. welcome, good brother, what do you think the hour? + PHILOTUS. Labouring for nine. + LUCIUS' SERVANT. So much? + PHILOTUS. Is not my lord seen yet? + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Not yet. + PHILOTUS. I wonder on't; he was wont to shine at seven. + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Ay, but the days are wax'd shorter with him; + You must consider that a prodigal course + Is like the sun's, but not like his recoverable. + I fear + 'Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purse; + That is, one may reach deep enough and yet + Find little. + PHILOTUS. I am of your fear for that. + TITUS. I'll show you how t' observe a strange event. + Your lord sends now for money. + HORTENSIUS. Most true, he does. + TITUS. And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift, + For which I wait for money. + HORTENSIUS. It is against my heart. + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Mark how strange it shows + Timon in this should pay more than he owes; + And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels + And send for money for 'em. + HORTENSIUS. I'm weary of this charge, the gods can witness; + I know my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth, + And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth. + FIRST VARRO'S SERVANT. Yes, mine's three thousand crowns; what's + yours? + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Five thousand mine. + FIRST VARRO'S SERVANT. 'Tis much deep; and it should seem by th' + sum + Your master's confidence was above mine, + Else surely his had equall'd. + + Enter FLAMINIUS + + TITUS. One of Lord Timon's men. + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Flaminius! Sir, a word. Pray, is my lord ready to + come forth? + FLAMINIUS. No, indeed, he is not. + TITUS. We attend his lordship; pray signify so much. + FLAMINIUS. I need not tell him that; he knows you are to diligent. + Exit + + Enter FLAVIUS, in a cloak, muffled + + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Ha! Is not that his steward muffled so? + He goes away in a cloud. Call him, call him. + TITUS. Do you hear, sir? + SECOND VARRO'S SERVANT. By your leave, sir. + FLAVIUS. What do ye ask of me, my friend? + TITUS. We wait for certain money here, sir. + FLAVIUS. Ay, + If money were as certain as your waiting, + 'Twere sure enough. + Why then preferr'd you not your sums and bills + When your false masters eat of my lord's meat? + Then they could smile, and fawn upon his debts, + And take down th' int'rest into their glutt'nous maws. + You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up; + Let me pass quietly. + Believe't, my lord and I have made an end: + I have no more to reckon, he to spend. + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Ay, but this answer will not serve. + FLAVIUS. If 'twill not serve, 'tis not so base as you, + For you serve knaves. Exit + FIRST VARRO'S SERVANT. How! What does his cashier'd worship mutter? + SECOND VARRO'S SERVANT. No matter what; he's poor, and that's + revenge enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no house + to put his head in? Such may rail against great buildings. + + Enter SERVILIUS + + TITUS. O, here's Servilius; now we shall know some answer. + SERVILIUS. If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some other + hour, I should derive much from't; for take't of my soul, my lord + leans wondrously to discontent. His comfortable temper has + forsook him; he's much out of health and keeps his chamber. + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Many do keep their chambers are not sick; + And if it be so far beyond his health, + Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts, + And make a clear way to the gods. + SERVILIUS. Good gods! + TITUS. We cannot take this for answer, sir. + FLAMINIUS. [Within] Servilius, help! My lord! my lord! + + Enter TIMON, in a rage, FLAMINIUS following + + TIMON. What, are my doors oppos'd against my passage? + Have I been ever free, and must my house + Be my retentive enemy, my gaol? + The place which I have feasted, does it now, + Like all mankind, show me an iron heart? + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Put in now, Titus. + TITUS. My lord, here is my bill. + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Here's mine. + HORTENSIUS. And mine, my lord. + BOTH VARRO'S SERVANTS. And ours, my lord. + PHILOTUS. All our bills. + TIMON. Knock me down with 'em; cleave me to the girdle. + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Alas, my lord- + TIMON. Cut my heart in sums. + TITUS. Mine, fifty talents. + TIMON. Tell out my blood. + LUCIUS' SERVANT. Five thousand crowns, my lord. + TIMON. Five thousand drops pays that. What yours? and yours? + FIRST VARRO'S SERVANT. My lord- + SECOND VARRO'S SERVANT. My lord- + TIMON. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you! Exit + HORTENSIUS. Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps at + their money. These debts may well be call'd desperate ones, for a + madman owes 'em. Exeunt + + Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS + + TIMON. They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves. + Creditors? Devils! + FLAVIUS. My dear lord- + TIMON. What if it should be so? + FLAMINIUS. My lord- + TIMON. I'll have it so. My steward! + FLAVIUS. Here, my lord. + TIMON. So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again: + Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius- all. + I'll once more feast the rascals. + FLAVIUS. O my lord, + You only speak from your distracted soul; + There is not so much left to furnish out + A moderate table. + TIMON. Be it not in thy care. + Go, I charge thee, invite them all; let in the tide + Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +The Senate House + +Enter three SENATORS at one door, ALCIBIADES meeting them, with attendants + + FIRST SENATOR. My lord, you have my voice to't: the fault's bloody. + 'Tis necessary he should die: + Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy. + SECOND SENATOR. Most true; the law shall bruise him. + ALCIBIADES. Honour, health, and compassion, to the Senate! + FIRST SENATOR. Now, Captain? + ALCIBIADES. I am an humble suitor to your virtues; + For pity is the virtue of the law, + And none but tyrants use it cruelly. + It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy + Upon a friend of mine, who in hot blood + Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth + To those that without heed do plunge into't. + He is a man, setting his fate aside, + Of comely virtues; + Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice- + An honour in him which buys out his fault- + But with a noble fury and fair spirit, + Seeing his reputation touch'd to death, + He did oppose his foe; + And with such sober and unnoted passion + He did behove his anger ere 'twas spent, + As if he had but prov'd an argument. + FIRST SENATOR. You undergo too strict a paradox, + Striving to make an ugly deed look fair; + Your words have took such pains as if they labour'd + To bring manslaughter into form and set + Quarrelling upon the head of valour; which, indeed, + Is valour misbegot, and came into the world + When sects and factions were newly born. + He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer + The worst that man can breathe, + And make his wrongs his outsides, + To wear them like his raiment, carelessly, + And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, + To bring it into danger. + If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill, + What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill! + ALCIBIADES. My lord- + FIRST SENATOR. You cannot make gross sins look clear: + To revenge is no valour, but to bear. + ALCIBIADES. My lords, then, under favour, pardon me + If I speak like a captain: + Why do fond men expose themselves to battle, + And not endure all threats? Sleep upon't, + And let the foes quietly cut their throats, + Without repugnancy? If there be + Such valour in the bearing, what make we + Abroad? Why, then, women are more valiant, + That stay at home, if bearing carry it; + And the ass more captain than the lion; the fellow + Loaden with irons wiser than the judge, + If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords, + As you are great, be pitifully good. + Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? + To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust; + But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just. + To be in anger is impiety; + But who is man that is not angry? + Weigh but the crime with this. + SECOND SENATOR. You breathe in vain. + ALCIBIADES. In vain! His service done + At Lacedaemon and Byzantium + Were a sufficient briber for his life. + FIRST SENATOR. What's that? + ALCIBIADES. Why, I say, my lords, has done fair service, + And slain in fight many of your enemies; + How full of valour did he bear himself + In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds! + SECOND SENATOR. He has made too much plenty with 'em. + He's a sworn rioter; he has a sin that often + Drowns him and takes his valour prisoner. + If there were no foes, that were enough + To overcome him. In that beastly fury + He has been known to commit outrages + And cherish factions. 'Tis inferr'd to us + His days are foul and his drink dangerous. + FIRST SENATOR. He dies. + ALCIBIADES. Hard fate! He might have died in war. + My lords, if not for any parts in him- + Though his right arm might purchase his own time, + And be in debt to none- yet, more to move you, + Take my deserts to his, and join 'em both; + And, for I know your reverend ages love + Security, I'll pawn my victories, all + My honours to you, upon his good returns. + If by this crime he owes the law his life, + Why, let the war receive't in valiant gore; + For law is strict, and war is nothing more. + FIRST SENATOR. We are for law: he dies. Urge it no more + On height of our displeasure. Friend or brother, + He forfeits his own blood that spills another. + ALCIBIADES. Must it be so? It must not be. My lords, + I do beseech you, know me. + SECOND SENATOR. How! + ALCIBIADES. Call me to your remembrances. + THIRD SENATOR. What! + ALCIBIADES. I cannot think but your age has forgot me; + It could not else be I should prove so base + To sue, and be denied such common grace. + My wounds ache at you. + FIRST SENATOR. Do you dare our anger? + 'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect: + We banish thee for ever. + ALCIBIADES. Banish me! + Banish your dotage! Banish usury + That makes the Senate ugly. + FIRST SENATOR. If after two days' shine Athens contain thee, + Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell our spirit, + He shall be executed presently. Exeunt SENATORS + ALCIBIADES. Now the gods keep you old enough that you may live + Only in bone, that none may look on you! + I'm worse than mad; I have kept back their foes, + While they have told their money and let out + Their coin upon large interest, I myself + Rich only in large hurts. All those for this? + Is this the balsam that the usuring Senate + Pours into captains' wounds? Banishment! + It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd; + It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, + That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up + My discontented troops, and lay for hearts. + 'Tis honour with most lands to be at odds; + Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods. Exit + + + + +SCENE VI. +A banqueting hall in TIMON'S house + +Music. Tables set out; servants attending. Enter divers LORDS, +friends of TIMON, at several doors + + FIRST LORD. The good time of day to you, sir. + SECOND LORD. I also wish it to you. I think this honourable lord + did but try us this other day. + FIRST LORD. Upon that were my thoughts tiring when we encount'red. + I hope it is not so low with him as he made it seem in the trial + of his several friends. + SECOND LORD. It should not be, by the persuasion of his new + feasting. + FIRST LORD. I should think so. He hath sent me an earnest inviting, + which many my near occasions did urge me to put off; but he hath + conjur'd me beyond them, and I must needs appear. + SECOND LORD. In like manner was I in debt to my importunate + business, but he would not hear my excuse. I am sorry, when he + sent to borrow of me, that my provision was out. + FIRST LORD. I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all + things go. + SECOND LORD. Every man here's so. What would he have borrowed of + you? + FIRST LORD. A thousand pieces. + SECOND LORD. A thousand pieces! + FIRST LORD. What of you? + SECOND LORD. He sent to me, sir- here he comes. + + Enter TIMON and attendants + + TIMON. With all my heart, gentlemen both! And how fare you? + FIRST LORD. Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship. + SECOND LORD. The swallow follows not summer more willing than we + your lordship. + TIMON. [Aside] Nor more willingly leaves winter; such summer-birds + are men- Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompense this long + stay; feast your ears with the music awhile, if they will fare so + harshly o' th' trumpet's sound; we shall to't presently. + FIRST LORD. I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship that + I return'd you an empty messenger. + TIMON. O sir, let it not trouble you. + SECOND LORD. My noble lord- + TIMON. Ah, my good friend, what cheer? + SECOND LORD. My most honourable lord, I am e'en sick of shame that, + when your lordship this other day sent to me, I was so + unfortunate a beggar. + TIMON. Think not on't, sir. + SECOND LORD. If you had sent but two hours before- + TIMON. Let it not cumber your better remembrance. [The banquet + brought in] Come, bring in all together. + SECOND LORD. All cover'd dishes! + FIRST LORD. Royal cheer, I warrant you. + THIRD LORD. Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield it. + FIRST LORD. How do you? What's the news? + THIRD LORD. Alcibiades is banish'd. Hear you of it? + FIRST AND SECOND LORDS. Alcibiades banish'd! + THIRD LORD. 'Tis so, be sure of it. + FIRST LORD. How? how? + SECOND LORD. I pray you, upon what? + TIMON. My worthy friends, will you draw near? + THIRD LORD. I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble feast toward. + SECOND LORD. This is the old man still. + THIRD LORD. Will't hold? Will't hold? + SECOND LORD. It does; but time will- and so- + THIRD LORD. I do conceive. + TIMON. Each man to his stool with that spur as he would to the lip + of his mistress; your diet shall be in all places alike. Make not + a city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon + the first place. Sit, sit. The gods require our thanks: + + You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. + For your own gifts make yourselves prais'd; but reserve still to + give, lest your deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, + that one need not lend to another; for were your god-heads to + borrow of men, men would forsake the gods. Make the meat be + beloved more than the man that gives it. Let no assembly of + twenty be without a score of villains. If there sit twelve women + at the table, let a dozen of them be- as they are. The rest of + your foes, O gods, the senators of Athens, together with the + common lag of people, what is amiss in them, you gods, make + suitable for destruction. For these my present friends, as they + are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them, and to nothing are + they welcome. + + Uncover, dogs, and lap. [The dishes are uncovered and + seen to he full of warm water] + SOME SPEAK. What does his lordship mean? + SOME OTHER. I know not. + TIMON. May you a better feast never behold, + You knot of mouth-friends! Smoke and lukewarm water + Is your perfection. This is Timon's last; + Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries, + Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces + [Throwing the water in their faces] + Your reeking villainy. Live loath'd and long, + Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, + Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, + You fools of fortune, trencher friends, time's flies, + Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-lacks! + Of man and beast the infinite malady + Crust you quite o'er! What, dost thou go? + Soft, take thy physic first; thou too, and thou. + Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none. [Throws the + dishes at them, and drives them out] + What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast + Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest. + Burn house! Sink Athens! Henceforth hated be + Of Timon man and all humanity! Exit + + Re-enter the LORDS + + FIRST LORD. How now, my lords! + SECOND LORD. Know you the quality of Lord Timon's fury? + THIRD LORD. Push! Did you see my cap? + FOURTH LORD. I have lost my gown. + FIRST LORD. He's but a mad lord, and nought but humours sways him. + He gave me a jewel th' other day, and now he has beat it out of + my hat. Did you see my jewel? + THIRD LORD. Did you see my cap? + SECOND LORD. Here 'tis. + FOURTH LORD. Here lies my gown. + FIRST LORD. Let's make no stay. + SECOND LORD. Lord Timon's mad. + THIRD LORD. I feel't upon my bones. + FOURTH LORD. One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones. + Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +Without the walls of Athens + +Enter TIMON + + TIMON. Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall + That girdles in those wolves, dive in the earth + And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent. + Obedience, fail in children! Slaves and fools, + Pluck the grave wrinkled Senate from the bench + And minister in their steads. To general filths + Convert, o' th' instant, green virginity. + Do't in your parents' eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast; + Rather than render back, out with your knives + And cut your trusters' throats. Bound servants, steal: + Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, + And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed: + Thy mistress is o' th' brothel. Son of sixteen, + Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping sire, + With it beat out his brains. Piety and fear, + Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, + Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, + Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, + Degrees, observances, customs and laws, + Decline to your confounding contraries + And let confusion live. Plagues incident to men, + Your potent and infectious fevers heap + On Athens, ripe for stroke. Thou cold sciatica, + Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt + As lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty, + Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, + That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive + And drown themselves in riot. Itches, blains, + Sow all th' Athenian bosoms, and their crop + Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath, + That their society, as their friendship, may + Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee + But nakedness, thou detestable town! + Take thou that too, with multiplying bans. + Timon will to the woods, where he shall find + Th' unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. + The gods confound- hear me, you good gods all- + The Athenians both within and out that wall! + And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow + To the whole race of mankind, high and low! + Amen. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Athens. TIMON's house + +Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three SERVANTS + + FIRST SERVANT. Hear you, Master Steward, where's our master? + Are we undone, cast off, nothing remaining? + FLAVIUS. Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you? + Let me be recorded by the righteous gods, + I am as poor as you. + FIRST SERVANT. Such a house broke! + So noble a master fall'n! All gone, and not + One friend to take his fortune by the arm + And go along with him? + SECOND SERVANT. As we do turn our backs + From our companion, thrown into his grave, + So his familiars to his buried fortunes + Slink all away; leave their false vows with him, + Like empty purses pick'd; and his poor self, + A dedicated beggar to the air, + With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, + Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows. + + Enter other SERVANTS + + FLAVIUS. All broken implements of a ruin'd house. + THIRD SERVANT. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery; + That see I by our faces. We are fellows still, + Serving alike in sorrow. Leak'd is our bark; + And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, + Hearing the surges threat. We must all part + Into this sea of air. + FLAVIUS. Good fellows all, + The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you. + Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake, + Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads and say, + As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortune, + 'We have seen better days.' Let each take some. + [Giving them money] + Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more! + Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. + [Embrace, and part several ways] + O the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us! + Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, + Since riches point to misery and contempt? + Who would be so mock'd with glory, or to live + But in a dream of friendship, + To have his pomp, and all what state compounds, + But only painted, like his varnish'd friends? + Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart, + Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood, + When man's worst sin is he does too much good! + Who then dares to be half so kind again? + For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men. + My dearest lord- blest to be most accurst, + Rich only to be wretched- thy great fortunes + Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord! + He's flung in rage from this ingrateful seat + Of monstrous friends; nor has he with him to + Supply his life, or that which can command it. + I'll follow and enquire him out. + I'll ever serve his mind with my best will; + Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still. Exit + + + + +SCENE III. +The woods near the sea-shore. Before TIMON'S cave + +Enter TIMON in the woods + + TIMON. O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth + Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb + Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb- + Whose procreation, residence, and birth, + Scarce is dividant- touch them with several fortunes: + The greater scorns the lesser. Not nature, + To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune + But by contempt of nature. + Raise me this beggar and deny't that lord: + The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, + The beggar native honour. + It is the pasture lards the rother's sides, + The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares, + In purity of manhood stand upright, + And say 'This man's a flatterer'? If one be, + So are they all; for every grise of fortune + Is smooth'd by that below. The learned pate + Ducks to the golden fool. All's oblique; + There's nothing level in our cursed natures + But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorr'd + All feasts, societies, and throngs of men! + His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains. + Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots. + [Digging] + Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate + With thy most operant poison. What is here? + Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods, + I am no idle votarist. Roots, you clear heavens! + Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair, + Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant. + Ha, you gods! why this? What, this, you gods? Why, this + Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, + Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads- + This yellow slave + Will knit and break religions, bless th' accurs'd, + Make the hoar leprosy ador'd, place thieves + And give them title, knee, and approbation, + With senators on the bench. This is it + That makes the wappen'd widow wed again- + She whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores + Would cast the gorge at this embalms and spices + To th 'April day again. Come, damn'd earth, + Thou common whore of mankind, that puts odds + Among the rout of nations, I will make thee + Do thy right nature. [March afar off] + Ha! a drum? Th'art quick, + But yet I'll bury thee. Thou't go, strong thief, + When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand. + Nay, stay thou out for earnest. [Keeping some gold] + + Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in warlike + manner; and PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA + + ALCIBIADES. What art thou there? Speak. + TIMON. A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart + For showing me again the eyes of man! + ALCIBIADES. What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee + That art thyself a man? + TIMON. I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind. + For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, + That I might love thee something. + ALCIBIADES. I know thee well; + But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange. + TIMON. I know thee too; and more than that I know thee + I not desire to know. Follow thy drum; + With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules. + Religious canons, civil laws, are cruel; + Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine + Hath in her more destruction than thy sword + For all her cherubin look. + PHRYNIA. Thy lips rot off! + TIMON. I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns + To thine own lips again. + ALCIBIADES. How came the noble Timon to this change? + TIMON. As the moon does, by wanting light to give. + But then renew I could not, like the moon; + There were no suns to borrow of. + ALCIBIADES. Noble Timon, + What friendship may I do thee? + TIMON. None, but to + Maintain my opinion. + ALCIBIADES. What is it, Timon? + TIMON. Promise me friendship, but perform none. If thou wilt not + promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art man! If thou dost + perform, confound thee, for thou art a man! + ALCIBIADES. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries. + TIMON. Thou saw'st them when I had prosperity. + ALCIBIADES. I see them now; then was a blessed time. + TIMON. As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots. + TIMANDRA. Is this th' Athenian minion whom the world + Voic'd so regardfully? + TIMON. Art thou Timandra? + TIMANDRA. Yes. + TIMON. Be a whore still; they love thee not that use thee. + Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust. + Make use of thy salt hours. Season the slaves + For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheek'd youth + To the tub-fast and the diet. + TIMANDRA. Hang thee, monster! + ALCIBIADES. Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits + Are drown'd and lost in his calamities. + I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, + The want whereof doth daily make revolt + In my penurious band. I have heard, and griev'd, + How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, + Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states, + But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them- + TIMON. I prithee beat thy drum and get thee gone. + ALCIBIADES. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon. + TIMON. How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble? + I had rather be alone. + ALCIBIADES. Why, fare thee well; + Here is some gold for thee. + TIMON. Keep it: I cannot eat it. + ALCIBIADES. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap- + TIMON. War'st thou 'gainst Athens? + ALCIBIADES. Ay, Timon, and have cause. + TIMON. The gods confound them all in thy conquest; + And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd! + ALCIBIADES. Why me, Timon? + TIMON. That by killing of villains + Thou wast born to conquer my country. + Put up thy gold. Go on. Here's gold. Go on. + Be as a planetary plague, when Jove + Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison + In the sick air; let not thy sword skip one. + Pity not honour'd age for his white beard: + He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit matron: + It is her habit only that is honest, + Herself's a bawd. Let not the virgin's cheek + Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk paps + That through the window bars bore at men's eyes + Are not within the leaf of pity writ, + But set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe + Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; + Think it a bastard whom the oracle + Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut, + And mince it sans remorse. Swear against abjects; + Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes, + Whose proof nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, + Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, + Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy soldiers. + Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent, + Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. + ALCIBIADES. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou givest me, + Not all thy counsel. + TIMON. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee! + PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. Give us some gold, good Timon. + Hast thou more? + TIMON. Enough to make a whore forswear her trade, + And to make whores a bawd. Hold up, you sluts, + Your aprons mountant; you are not oathable, + Although I know you'll swear, terribly swear, + Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues, + Th' immortal gods that hear you. Spare your oaths; + I'll trust to your conditions. Be whores still; + And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you- + Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up; + Let your close fire predominate his smoke, + And be no turncoats. Yet may your pains six months + Be quite contrary! And thatch your poor thin roofs + With burdens of the dead- some that were hang'd, + No matter. Wear them, betray with them. Whore still; + Paint till a horse may mire upon your face. + A pox of wrinkles! + PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. Well, more gold. What then? + Believe't that we'll do anything for gold. + TIMON. Consumptions sow + In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, + And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice, + That he may never more false title plead, + Nor sound his quillets shrilly. Hoar the flamen, + That scolds against the quality of flesh + And not believes himself. Down with the nose, + Down with it flat, take the bridge quite away + Of him that, his particular to foresee, + Smells from the general weal. Make curl'd-pate ruffians bald, + And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war + Derive some pain from you. Plague all, + That your activity may defeat and quell + The source of all erection. There's more gold. + Do you damn others, and let this damn you, + And ditches grave you all! + PHRYNIA AND TIMANDRA. More counsel with more money, bounteous + Timon. + TIMON. More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest. + ALCIBIADES. Strike up the drum towards Athens. Farewell, Timon; + If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. + TIMON. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. + ALCIBIADES. I never did thee harm. + TIMON. Yes, thou spok'st well of me. + ALCIBIADES. Call'st thou that harm? + TIMON. Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take + Thy beagles with thee. + ALCIBIADES. We but offend him. Strike. + Drum beats. Exeunt all but TIMON + TIMON. That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, + Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou, [Digging] + Whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast + Teems and feeds all; whose self-same mettle, + Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd, + Engenders the black toad and adder blue, + The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm, + With all th' abhorred births below crisp heaven + Whereon Hyperion's quick'ning fire doth shine- + Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate, + From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root! + Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb, + Let it no more bring out ingrateful man! + Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears; + Teem with new monsters whom thy upward face + Hath to the marbled mansion all above + Never presented!- O, a root! Dear thanks!- + Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas, + Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts + And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, + That from it all consideration slips- + + Enter APEMANTUS + + More man? Plague, plague! + APEMANTUS. I was directed hither. Men report + Thou dost affect my manners and dost use them. + TIMON. 'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog, + Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee! + APEMANTUS. This is in thee a nature but infected, + A poor unmanly melancholy sprung + From change of fortune. Why this spade, this place? + This slave-like habit and these looks of care? + Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft, + Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot + That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods + By putting on the cunning of a carper. + Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive + By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee, + And let his very breath whom thou'lt observe + Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain, + And call it excellent. Thou wast told thus; + Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters that bade welcome, + To knaves and all approachers. 'Tis most just + That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again + Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness. + TIMON. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. + APEMANTUS. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself; + A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st + That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, + Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moist trees, + That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels + And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brook, + Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste + To cure thy o'ernight's surfeit? Call the creatures + Whose naked natures live in all the spite + Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks, + To the conflicting elements expos'd, + Answer mere nature- bid them flatter thee. + O, thou shalt find- + TIMON. A fool of thee. Depart. + APEMANTUS. I love thee better now than e'er I did. + TIMON. I hate thee worse. + APEMANTUS. Why? + TIMON. Thou flatter'st misery. + APEMANTUS. I flatter not, but say thou art a caitiff. + TIMON. Why dost thou seek me out? + APEMANTUS. To vex thee. + TIMON. Always a villain's office or a fool's. + Dost please thyself in't? + APEMANTUS. Ay. + TIMON. What, a knave too? + APEMANTUS. If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on + To castigate thy pride, 'twere well; but thou + Dost it enforcedly. Thou'dst courtier be again + Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery + Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before. + The one is filling still, never complete; + The other, at high wish. Best state, contentless, + Hath a distracted and most wretched being, + Worse than the worst, content. + Thou should'st desire to die, being miserable. + TIMON. Not by his breath that is more miserable. + Thou art a slave whom Fortune's tender arm + With favour never clasp'd, but bred a dog. + Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded + The sweet degrees that this brief world affords + To such as may the passive drugs of it + Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyself + In general riot, melted down thy youth + In different beds of lust, and never learn'd + The icy precepts of respect, but followed + The sug'red game before thee. But myself, + Who had the world as my confectionary; + The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men + At duty, more than I could frame employment; + That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves + Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush + Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare + For every storm that blows- I to bear this, + That never knew but better, is some burden. + Thy nature did commence in sufferance; time + Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men? + They never flatter'd thee. What hast thou given? + If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag, + Must be thy subject; who, in spite, put stuff + To some she-beggar and compounded thee + Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone. + If thou hadst not been born the worst of men, + Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer. + APEMANTUS. Art thou proud yet? + TIMON. Ay, that I am not thee. + APEMANTUS. I, that I was + No prodigal. + TIMON. I, that I am one now. + Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee, + I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone. + That the whole life of Athens were in this! + Thus would I eat it. [Eating a root] + APEMANTUS. Here! I will mend thy feast. + [Offering him food] + TIMON. First mend my company: take away thyself. + APEMANTUS. So I shall mend mine own by th' lack of thine. + TIMON. 'Tis not well mended so; it is but botch'd. + If not, I would it were. + APEMANTUS. What wouldst thou have to Athens? + TIMON. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt, + Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have. + APEMANTUS. Here is no use for gold. + TIMON. The best and truest; + For here it sleeps and does no hired harm. + APEMANTUS. Where liest a nights, Timon? + TIMON. Under that's above me. + Where feed'st thou a days, Apemantus? + APEMANTUS. Where my stomach. finds meat; or rather, where I eat it. + TIMON. Would poison were obedient, and knew my mind! + APEMANTUS. Where wouldst thou send it? + TIMON. To sauce thy dishes. + APEMANTUS. The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the + extremity of both ends. When thou wast in thy gilt and thy + perfume, they mock'd thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags + thou know'st none, but art despis'd for the contrary. There's a + medlar for thee; eat it. + TIMON. On what I hate I feed not. + APEMANTUS. Dost hate a medlar? + TIMON. Ay, though it look like thee. + APEMANTUS. An th' hadst hated medlars sooner, thou shouldst have + loved thyself better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift + that was beloved after his means? + TIMON. Who, without those means thou talk'st of, didst thou ever + know belov'd? + APEMANTUS. Myself. + TIMON. I understand thee: thou hadst some means to keep a dog. + APEMANTUS. What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to + thy flatterers? + TIMON. Women nearest; but men, men are the things themselves. What + wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy + power? + APEMANTUS. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men. + TIMON. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men, and + remain a beast with the beasts? + APEMANTUS. Ay, Timon. + TIMON. A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t' attain to! + If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee; if thou wert + the lamb, the fox would eat thee; if thou wert the fox, the lion + would suspect thee, when, peradventure, thou wert accus'd by the + ass. If thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee; and + still thou liv'dst but as a breakfast to the wolf. If thou wert + the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou + shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert thou the unicorn, + pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine own self the + conquest of thy fury. Wert thou bear, thou wouldst be kill'd by + the horse; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seiz'd by the + leopard; wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and + the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life. All thy safety + were remotion, and thy defence absence. What beast couldst thou + be that were not subject to a beast? And what beast art thou + already, that seest not thy loss in transformation! + APEMANTUS. If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou + mightst have hit upon it here. The commonwealth of Athens is + become a forest of beasts. + TIMON. How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the + city? + APEMANTUS. Yonder comes a poet and a painter. The plague of company + light upon thee! I will fear to catch it, and give way. When I + know not what else to do, I'll see thee again. + TIMON. When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be + welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus. + APEMANTUS. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive. + TIMON. Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon! + APEMANTUS. A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse. + TIMON. All villains that do stand by thee are pure. + APEMANTUS. There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st. + TIMON. If I name thee. + I'll beat thee- but I should infect my hands. + APEMANTUS. I would my tongue could rot them off! + TIMON. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog! + Choler does kill me that thou art alive; + I swoon to see thee. + APEMANTUS. Would thou wouldst burst! + TIMON. Away, + Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose + A stone by thee. [Throws a stone at him] + APEMANTUS. Beast! + TIMON. Slave! + APEMANTUS. Toad! + TIMON. Rogue, rogue, rogue! + I am sick of this false world, and will love nought + But even the mere necessities upon't. + Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave; + Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat + Thy gravestone daily; make thine epitaph, + That death in me at others' lives may laugh. + [Looks at the gold] O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce + 'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler + Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars! + Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, + Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow + That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god, + That sold'rest close impossibilities, + And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every tongue + To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts! + Think thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue + Set them into confounding odds, that beasts + May have the world in empire! + APEMANTUS. Would 'twere so! + But not till I am dead. I'll say th' hast gold. + Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly. + TIMON. Throng'd to? + APEMANTUS. Ay. + TIMON. Thy back, I prithee. + APEMANTUS. Live, and love thy misery! + TIMON. Long live so, and so die! [Exit APEMANTUS] I am quit. More + things like men? Eat, Timon, and abhor them. + + Enter the BANDITTI + + FIRST BANDIT. Where should he have this gold? It is some poor + fragment, some slender ort of his remainder. The mere want of + gold and the falling-from of his friends drove him into this + melancholy. + SECOND BANDIT. It is nois'd he hath a mass of treasure. + THIRD BANDIT. Let us make the assay upon him; if he care not for't, + he will supply us easily; if he covetously reserve it, how + shall's get it? + SECOND BANDIT. True; for he bears it not about him. 'Tis hid. + FIRST BANDIT. Is not this he? + BANDITTI. Where? + SECOND BANDIT. 'Tis his description. + THIRD BANDIT. He; I know him. + BANDITTI. Save thee, Timon! + TIMON. Now, thieves? + BANDITTI. Soldiers, not thieves. + TIMON. Both too, and women's sons. + BANDITTI. We are not thieves, but men that much do want. + TIMON. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat. + Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots; + Within this mile break forth a hundred springs; + The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips; + The bounteous housewife Nature on each bush + Lays her full mess before you. Want! Why want? + FIRST BANDIT. We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, + As beasts and birds and fishes. + TIMON. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes; + You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con + That you are thieves profess'd, that you work not + In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft + In limited professions. Rascal thieves, + Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' th' grape + Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, + And so scape hanging. Trust not the physician; + His antidotes are poison, and he slays + Moe than you rob. Take wealth and lives together; + Do villainy, do, since you protest to do't, + Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery: + The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction + Robs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief, + And her pale fire she snatches from the sun; + The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves + The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief, + That feeds and breeds by a composture stol'n + From gen'ral excrement- each thing's a thief. + The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power + Has uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves; away, + Rob one another. There's more gold. Cut throats; + All that you meet are thieves. To Athens go, + Break open shops; nothing can you steal + But thieves do lose it. Steal not less for this + I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er! + Amen. + THIRD BANDIT. Has almost charm'd me from my profession by + persuading me to it. + FIRST BANDIT. 'Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises + us; not to have us thrive in our mystery. + SECOND BANDIT. I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my + trade. + FIRST BANDIT. Let us first see peace in Athens. There is no time so + miserable but a man may be true. Exeunt THIEVES + + Enter FLAVIUS, to TIMON + + FLAVIUS. O you gods! + Is yond despis'd and ruinous man my lord? + Full of decay and failing? O monument + And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd! + What an alteration of honour + Has desp'rate want made! + What viler thing upon the earth than friends, + Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! + How rarely does it meet with this time's guise, + When man was wish'd to love his enemies! + Grant I may ever love, and rather woo + Those that would mischief me than those that do! + Has caught me in his eye; I will present + My honest grief unto him, and as my lord + Still serve him with my life. My dearest master! + TIMON. Away! What art thou? + FLAVIUS. Have you forgot me, sir? + TIMON. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men; + Then, if thou grant'st th'art a man, I have forgot thee. + FLAVIUS. An honest poor servant of yours. + TIMON. Then I know thee not. + I never had honest man about me, I. + All I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains. + FLAVIUS. The gods are witness, + Nev'r did poor steward wear a truer grief + For his undone lord than mine eyes for you. + TIMON. What, dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I love thee + Because thou art a woman and disclaim'st + Flinty mankind, whose eyes do never give + But thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping. + Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping! + FLAVIUS. I beg of you to know me, good my lord, + T' accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth lasts + To entertain me as your steward still. + TIMON. Had I a steward + So true, so just, and now so comfortable? + It almost turns my dangerous nature mild. + Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man + Was born of woman. + Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, + You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim + One honest man- mistake me not, but one; + No more, I pray- and he's a steward. + How fain would I have hated all mankind! + And thou redeem'st thyself. But all, save thee, + I fell with curses. + Methinks thou art more honest now than wise; + For by oppressing and betraying me + Thou mightst have sooner got another service; + For many so arrive at second masters + Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true, + For I must ever doubt though ne'er so sure, + Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, + If not a usuring kindness, and as rich men deal gifts, + Expecting in return twenty for one? + FLAVIUS. No, my most worthy master, in whose breast + Doubt and suspect, alas, are plac'd too late! + You should have fear'd false times when you did feast: + Suspect still comes where an estate is least. + That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love, + Duty, and zeal, to your unmatched mind, + Care of your food and living; and believe it, + My most honour'd lord, + For any benefit that points to me, + Either in hope or present, I'd exchange + For this one wish, that you had power and wealth + To requite me by making rich yourself. + TIMON. Look thee, 'tis so! Thou singly honest man, + Here, take. The gods, out of my misery, + Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy, + But thus condition'd; thou shalt build from men; + Hate all, curse all, show charity to none, + But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone + Ere thou relieve the beggar. Give to dogs + What thou deniest to men; let prisons swallow 'em, + Debts wither 'em to nothing. Be men like blasted woods, + And may diseases lick up their false bloods! + And so, farewell and thrive. + FLAVIUS. O, let me stay + And comfort you, my master. + TIMON. If thou hat'st curses, + Stay not; fly whilst thou art blest and free. + Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. + Exeunt severally + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +The woods. Before TIMON's cave + +Enter POET and PAINTER + + PAINTER. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he + abides. + POET. to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true that he's + so full of gold? + PAINTER. Certain. Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and Timandra had + gold of him. He likewise enrich'd poor straggling soldiers with + great quantity. 'Tis said he gave unto his steward a mighty sum. + POET. Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends? + PAINTER. Nothing else. You shall see him a palm in Athens again, + and flourish with the highest. Therefore 'tis not amiss we tender + our loves to him in this suppos'd distress of his; it will show + honestly in us, and is very likely to load our purposes with what + they travail for, if it be just and true report that goes of his + having. + POET. What have you now to present unto him? + PAINTER. Nothing at this time but my visitation; only I will + promise him an excellent piece. + POET. I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent that's coming + toward him. + PAINTER. Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' th' time; + it opens the eyes of expectation. Performance is ever the duller + for his act, and but in the plainer and simpler kind of people + the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most + courtly and fashionable; performance is a kind of will or + testament which argues a great sickness in his judgment that + makes it. + + Enter TIMON from his cave + + TIMON. [Aside] Excellent workman! Thou canst not paint a man so bad + as is thyself. + POET. I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for him. It + must be a personating of himself; a satire against the softness + of prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that + follow youth and opulency. + TIMON. [Aside] Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own + work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? Do so, I have + gold for thee. + POET. Nay, let's seek him; + Then do we sin against our own estate + When we may profit meet and come too late. + PAINTER. True; + When the day serves, before black-corner'd night, + Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light. + Come. + TIMON. [Aside] I'll meet you at the turn. What a god's gold, + That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple + Than where swine feed! + 'Tis thou that rig'st the bark and plough'st the foam, + Settlest admired reverence in a slave. + To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye + Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey! + Fit I meet them. [Advancing from his cave] + POET. Hail, worthy Timon! + PAINTER. Our late noble master! + TIMON. Have I once liv'd to see two honest men? + POET. Sir, + Having often of your open bounty tasted, + Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off, + Whose thankless natures- O abhorred spirits!- + Not all the whips of heaven are large enough- + What! to you, + Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence + To their whole being! I am rapt, and cannot cover + The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude + With any size of words. + TIMON. Let it go naked: men may see't the better. + You that are honest, by being what you are, + Make them best seen and known. + PAINTER. He and myself + Have travail'd in the great show'r of your gifts, + And sweetly felt it. + TIMON. Ay, you are honest men. + PAINTER. We are hither come to offer you our service. + TIMON. Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you? + Can you eat roots, and drink cold water- No? + BOTH. What we can do, we'll do, to do you service. + TIMON. Y'are honest men. Y'have heard that I have gold; + I am sure you have. Speak truth; y'are honest men. + PAINTER. So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore + Came not my friend nor I. + TIMON. Good honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeit + Best in all Athens. Th'art indeed the best; + Thou counterfeit'st most lively. + PAINTER. So, so, my lord. + TIMON. E'en so, sir, as I say. [To To POET] And for thy fiction, + Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth + That thou art even natural in thine art. + But for all this, my honest-natur'd friends, + I must needs say you have a little fault. + Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish I + You take much pains to mend. + BOTH. Beseech your honour + To make it known to us. + TIMON. You'll take it ill. + BOTH. Most thankfully, my lord. + TIMON. Will you indeed? + BOTH. Doubt it not, worthy lord. + TIMON. There's never a one of you but trusts a knave + That mightily deceives you. + BOTH. Do we, my lord? + TIMON. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble, + Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him, + Keep in your bosom; yet remain assur'd + That he's a made-up villain. + PAINTER. I know not such, my lord. + POET. Nor I. + TIMON. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold, + Rid me these villains from your companies. + Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught, + Confound them by some course, and come to me, + I'll give you gold enough. + BOTH. Name them, my lord; let's know them. + TIMON. You that way, and you this- but two in company; + Each man apart, all single and alone, + Yet an arch-villain keeps him company. + [To the PAINTER] If, where thou art, two villians shall not be, + Come not near him. [To the POET] If thou wouldst not reside + But where one villain is, then him abandon.- + Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves. + [To the PAINTER] You have work for me; there's payment; hence! + [To the POET] You are an alchemist; make gold of that.- + Out, rascal dogs! [Beats and drives them out] + + Enter FLAVIUS and two SENATORS + + FLAVIUS. It is vain that you would speak with Timon; + For he is set so only to himself + That nothing but himself which looks like man + Is friendly with him. + FIRST SENATOR. Bring us to his cave. + It is our part and promise to th' Athenians + To speak with Timon. + SECOND SENATOR. At all times alike + Men are not still the same; 'twas time and griefs + That fram'd him thus. Time, with his fairer hand, + Offering the fortunes of his former days, + The former man may make him. Bring us to him, + And chance it as it may. + FLAVIUS. Here is his cave. + Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon! + Look out, and speak to friends. Th' Athenians + By two of their most reverend Senate greet thee. + Speak to them, noble Timon. + + Enter TIMON out of his cave + + TIMON. Thou sun that comforts, burn. Speak and be hang'd! + For each true word a blister, and each false + Be as a cauterizing to the root o' th' tongue, + Consuming it with speaking! + FIRST SENATOR. Worthy Timon- + TIMON. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon. + FIRST SENATOR. The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon. + TIMON. I thank them; and would send them back the plague, + Could I but catch it for them. + FIRST SENATOR. O, forget + What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. + The senators with one consent of love + Entreat thee back to Athens, who have thought + On special dignities, which vacant lie + For thy best use and wearing. + SECOND SENATOR. They confess + Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross; + Which now the public body, which doth seldom + Play the recanter, feeling in itself + A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal + Of it own fail, restraining aid to Timon, + And send forth us to make their sorrowed render, + Together with a recompense more fruitful + Than their offence can weigh down by the dram; + Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth + As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs + And write in thee the figures of their love, + Ever to read them thine. + TIMON. You witch me in it; + Surprise me to the very brink of tears. + Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes, + And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators. + FIRST SENATOR. Therefore so please thee to return with us, + And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take + The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks, + Allow'd with absolute power, and thy good name + Live with authority. So soon we shall drive back + Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild, + Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up + His country's peace. + SECOND SENATOR. And shakes his threat'ning sword + Against the walls of Athens. + FIRST SENATOR. Therefore, Timon- + TIMON. Well, sir, I will. Therefore I will, sir, thus: + If Alcibiades kill my countrymen, + Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, + That Timon cares not. But if he sack fair Athens, + And take our goodly aged men by th' beards, + Giving our holy virgins to the stain + Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war, + Then let him know- and tell him Timon speaks it + In pity of our aged and our youth- + I cannot choose but tell him that I care not, + And let him take't at worst; for their knives care not, + While you have throats to answer. For myself, + There's not a whittle in th' unruly camp + But I do prize it at my love before + The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you + To the protection of the prosperous gods, + As thieves to keepers. + FLAVIUS. Stay not, all's in vain. + TIMON. Why, I was writing of my epitaph; + It will be seen to-morrow. My long sickness + Of health and living now begins to mend, + And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still; + Be Alcibiades your plague, you his, + And last so long enough! + FIRST SENATOR. We speak in vain. + TIMON. But yet I love my country, and am not + One that rejoices in the common wreck, + As common bruit doth put it. + FIRST SENATOR. That's well spoke. + TIMON. Commend me to my loving countrymen- + FIRST SENATOR. These words become your lips as they pass through + them. + SECOND SENATOR. And enter in our ears like great triumphers + In their applauding gates. + TIMON. Commend me to them, + And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs, + Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, + Their pangs of love, with other incident throes + That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain + In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them- + I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath. + FIRST SENATOR. I like this well; he will return again. + TIMON. I have a tree, which grows here in my close, + That mine own use invites me to cut down, + And shortly must I fell it. Tell my friends, + Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree + From high to low throughout, that whoso please + To stop affliction, let him take his haste, + Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe, + And hang himself. I pray you do my greeting. + FLAVIUS. Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him. + TIMON. Come not to me again; but say to Athens + Timon hath made his everlasting mansion + Upon the beached verge of the salt flood, + Who once a day with his embossed froth + The turbulent surge shall cover. Thither come, + And let my gravestone be your oracle. + Lips, let sour words go by and language end: + What is amiss, plague and infection mend! + Graves only be men's works and death their gain! + Sun, hide thy beams. Timon hath done his reign. + Exit TIMON into his cave + FIRST SENATOR. His discontents are unremovably + Coupled to nature. + SECOND SENATOR. Our hope in him is dead. Let us return + And strain what other means is left unto us + In our dear peril. + FIRST SENATOR. It requires swift foot. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Before the walls of Athens + +Enter two other SENATORS with a MESSENGER + + FIRST SENATOR. Thou hast painfully discover'd; are his files + As full as thy report? + MESSENGER. I have spoke the least. + Besides, his expedition promises + Present approach. + SECOND SENATOR. We stand much hazard if they bring not Timon. + MESSENGER. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend, + Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd, + Yet our old love had a particular force, + And made us speak like friends. This man was riding + From Alcibiades to Timon's cave + With letters of entreaty, which imported + His fellowship i' th' cause against your city, + In part for his sake mov'd. + + Enter the other SENATORS, from TIMON + + FIRST SENATOR. Here come our brothers. + THIRD SENATOR. No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect. + The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring + Doth choke the air with dust. In, and prepare. + Ours is the fall, I fear; our foes the snare. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +The TIMON's cave, and a rude tomb seen + +Enter a SOLDIER in the woods, seeking TIMON + + SOLDIER. By all description this should be the place. + Who's here? Speak, ho! No answer? What is this? + Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span. + Some beast rear'd this; here does not live a man. + Dead, sure; and this his grave. What's on this tomb + I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax. + Our captain hath in every figure skill, + An ag'd interpreter, though young in days; + Before proud Athens he's set down by this, + Whose fall the mark of his ambition is. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +Before the walls of Athens + +Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES with his powers before Athens + + ALCIBIADES. Sound to this coward and lascivious town + Our terrible approach. + + Sound a parley. The SENATORS appear upon the walls + + Till now you have gone on and fill'd the time + With all licentious measure, making your wills + The scope of justice; till now, myself, and such + As slept within the shadow of your power, + Have wander'd with our travers'd arms, and breath'd + Our sufferance vainly. Now the time is flush, + When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong, + Cries of itself 'No more!' Now breathless wrong + Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease, + And pursy insolence shall break his wind + With fear and horrid flight. + FIRST SENATOR. Noble and young, + When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, + Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear, + We sent to thee, to give thy rages balm, + To wipe out our ingratitude with loves + Above their quantity. + SECOND SENATOR. So did we woo + Transformed Timon to our city's love + By humble message and by promis'd means. + We were not all unkind, nor all deserve + The common stroke of war. + FIRST SENATOR. These walls of ours + Were not erected by their hands from whom + You have receiv'd your griefs; nor are they such + That these great tow'rs, trophies, and schools, should fall + For private faults in them. + SECOND SENATOR. Nor are they living + Who were the motives that you first went out; + Shame, that they wanted cunning, in excess + Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord, + Into our city with thy banners spread. + By decimation and a tithed death- + If thy revenges hunger for that food + Which nature loathes- take thou the destin'd tenth, + And by the hazard of the spotted die + Let die the spotted. + FIRST SENATOR. All have not offended; + For those that were, it is not square to take, + On those that are, revenge: crimes, like lands, + Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman, + Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage; + Spare thy Athenian cradle, and those kin + Which, in the bluster of thy wrath, must fall + With those that have offended. Like a shepherd + Approach the fold and cull th' infected forth, + But kill not all together. + SECOND SENATOR. What thou wilt, + Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile + Than hew to't with thy sword. + FIRST SENATOR. Set but thy foot + Against our rampir'd gates and they shall ope, + So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before + To say thou't enter friendly. + SECOND SENATOR. Throw thy glove, + Or any token of thine honour else, + That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress + And not as our confusion, all thy powers + Shall make their harbour in our town till we + Have seal'd thy full desire. + ALCIBIADES. Then there's my glove; + Descend, and open your uncharged ports. + Those enemies of Timon's and mine own, + Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof, + Fall, and no more. And, to atone your fears + With my more noble meaning, not a man + Shall pass his quarter or offend the stream + Of regular justice in your city's bounds, + But shall be render'd to your public laws + At heaviest answer. + BOTH. 'Tis most nobly spoken. + ALCIBIADES. Descend, and keep your words. + [The SENATORS descend and open the gates] + + Enter a SOLDIER as a Messenger + + SOLDIER. My noble General, Timon is dead; + Entomb'd upon the very hem o' th' sea; + And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which + With wax I brought away, whose soft impression + Interprets for my poor ignorance. + + ALCIBIADES reads the Epitaph + + 'Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft; + Seek not my name. A plague consume you wicked caitiffs left! + Here lie I, Timon, who alive all living men did hate. + Pass by, and curse thy fill; but pass, and stay not here thy + gait.' + These well express in thee thy latter spirits. + Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs, + Scorn'dst our brain's flow, and those our droplets which + From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit + Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye + On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead + Is noble Timon, of whose memory + Hereafter more. Bring me into your city, + And I will use the olive, with my sword; + Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each + Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. + Let our drums strike. Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1594 + +THE TRAGEDY OF TITUS ANDRONICUS + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + SATURNINUS, son to the late Emperor of Rome, afterwards Emperor + BASSIANUS, brother to Saturninus + TITUS ANDRONICUS, a noble Roman + MARCUS ANDRONICUS, Tribune of the People, and brother to Titus + + Sons to Titus Andronicus: + LUCIUS + QUINTUS + MARTIUS + MUTIUS + + YOUNG LUCIUS, a boy, son to Lucius + PUBLIUS, son to Marcus Andronicus + + Kinsmen to Titus: + SEMPRONIUS + CAIUS + VALENTINE + + AEMILIUS, a noble Roman + + Sons to Tamora: + ALARBUS + DEMETRIUS + CHIRON + + AARON, a Moor, beloved by Tamora + A CAPTAIN + A MESSENGER + A CLOWN + + TAMORA, Queen of the Goths + LAVINIA, daughter to Titus Andronicus + A NURSE, and a black CHILD + + Romans and Goths, Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and + Attendants + + + + +<> + + + + SCENE: + Rome and the neighbourhood + + +ACT 1. SCENE I. +Rome. Before the Capitol + +Flourish. Enter the TRIBUNES and SENATORS aloft; and then enter below +SATURNINUS and his followers at one door, and BASSIANUS and his followers +at the other, with drums and trumpets + + SATURNINUS. Noble patricians, patrons of my right, + Defend the justice of my cause with arms; + And, countrymen, my loving followers, + Plead my successive title with your swords. + I am his first born son that was the last + That ware the imperial diadem of Rome; + Then let my father's honours live in me, + Nor wrong mine age with this indignity. + BASSIANUS. Romans, friends, followers, favourers of my right, + If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son, + Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, + Keep then this passage to the Capitol; + And suffer not dishonour to approach + The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, + To justice, continence, and nobility; + But let desert in pure election shine; + And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice. + + Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS aloft, with the crown + + MARCUS. Princes, that strive by factions and by friends + Ambitiously for rule and empery, + Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand + A special party, have by common voice + In election for the Roman empery + Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius + For many good and great deserts to Rome. + A nobler man, a braver warrior, + Lives not this day within the city walls. + He by the Senate is accited home, + From weary wars against the barbarous Goths, + That with his sons, a terror to our foes, + Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in arms. + Ten years are spent since first he undertook + This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms + Our enemies' pride; five times he hath return'd + Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons + In coffins from the field; and at this day + To the monument of that Andronici + Done sacrifice of expiation, + And slain the noblest prisoner of the Goths. + And now at last, laden with honour's spoils, + Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, + Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. + Let us entreat, by honour of his name + Whom worthily you would have now succeed, + And in the Capitol and Senate's right, + Whom you pretend to honour and adore, + That you withdraw you and abate your strength, + Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should, + Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. + SATURNINUS. How fair the Tribune speaks to calm my thoughts. + BASSIANUS. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy + In thy uprightness and integrity, + And so I love and honour thee and thine, + Thy noble brother Titus and his sons, + And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all, + Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament, + That I will here dismiss my loving friends, + And to my fortunes and the people's favour + Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd. + Exeunt the soldiers of BASSIANUS + SATURNINUS. Friends, that have been thus forward in my right, + I thank you all and here dismiss you all, + And to the love and favour of my country + Commit myself, my person, and the cause. + Exeunt the soldiers of SATURNINUS + Rome, be as just and gracious unto me + As I am confident and kind to thee. + Open the gates and let me in. + BASSIANUS. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor. + [Flourish. They go up into the Senate House] + + Enter a CAPTAIN + + CAPTAIN. Romans, make way. The good Andronicus, + Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, + Successful in the battles that he fights, + With honour and with fortune is return'd + From where he circumscribed with his sword + And brought to yoke the enemies of Rome. + + Sound drums and trumpets, and then enter MARTIUS + and MUTIUS, two of TITUS' sons; and then two men + bearing a coffin covered with black; then LUCIUS + and QUINTUS, two other sons; then TITUS ANDRONICUS; + and then TAMORA the Queen of Goths, with her three + sons, ALARBUS, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON, with AARON the + Moor, and others, as many as can be. Then set down + the coffin and TITUS speaks + + TITUS. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds! + Lo, as the bark that hath discharg'd her fraught + Returns with precious lading to the bay + From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, + Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, + To re-salute his country with his tears, + Tears of true joy for his return to Rome. + Thou great defender of this Capitol, + Stand gracious to the rites that we intend! + Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons, + Half of the number that King Priam had, + Behold the poor remains, alive and dead! + These that survive let Rome reward with love; + These that I bring unto their latest home, + With burial amongst their ancestors. + Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword. + Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own, + Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet, + To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx? + Make way to lay them by their brethren. + [They open the tomb] + There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, + And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars. + O sacred receptacle of my joys, + Sweet cell of virtue and nobility, + How many sons hast thou of mine in store + That thou wilt never render to me more! + LUCIUS. Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, + That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile + Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh + Before this earthy prison of their bones, + That so the shadows be not unappeas'd, + Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth. + TITUS. I give him you- the noblest that survives, + The eldest son of this distressed queen. + TAMORA. Stay, Roman brethen! Gracious conqueror, + Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, + A mother's tears in passion for her son; + And if thy sons were ever dear to thee, + O, think my son to be as dear to me! + Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome + To beautify thy triumphs, and return + Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke; + But must my sons be slaughtered in the streets + For valiant doings in their country's cause? + O, if to fight for king and commonweal + Were piety in thine, it is in these. + Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood. + Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? + Draw near them then in being merciful. + Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge. + Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son. + TITUS. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. + These are their brethren, whom your Goths beheld + Alive and dead; and for their brethren slain + Religiously they ask a sacrifice. + To this your son is mark'd, and die he must + T' appease their groaning shadows that are gone. + LUCIUS. Away with him, and make a fire straight; + And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, + Let's hew his limbs till they be clean consum'd. + Exeunt TITUS' SONS, with ALARBUS + TAMORA. O cruel, irreligious piety! + CHIRON. Was never Scythia half so barbarous! + DEMETRIUS. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. + Alarbus goes to rest, and we survive + To tremble under Titus' threat'ning look. + Then, madam, stand resolv'd, but hope withal + The self-same gods that arm'd the Queen of Troy + With opportunity of sharp revenge + Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent + May favour Tamora, the Queen of Goths- + When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen- + To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. + + Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and + MUTIUS, the sons of ANDRONICUS, with their swords bloody + + LUCIUS. See, lord and father, how we have perform'd + Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, + And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, + Whose smoke like incense doth perfume the sky. + Remaineth nought but to inter our brethren, + And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome. + TITUS. Let it be so, and let Andronicus + Make this his latest farewell to their souls. + [Sound trumpets and lay the coffin in the tomb] + In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; + Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest, + Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! + Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, + Here grow no damned drugs, here are no storms, + No noise, but silence and eternal sleep. + In peace and honour rest you here, my sons! + + Enter LAVINIA + + LAVINIA. In peace and honour live Lord Titus long; + My noble lord and father, live in fame! + Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears + I render for my brethren's obsequies; + And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy + Shed on this earth for thy return to Rome. + O, bless me here with thy victorious hand, + Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud! + TITUS. Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserv'd + The cordial of mine age to glad my heart! + Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days, + And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise! + + Enter, above, MARCUS ANDRONICUS and TRIBUNES; + re-enter SATURNINUS, BASSIANUS, and attendants + + MARCUS. Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, + Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome! + TITUS. Thanks, gentle Tribune, noble brother Marcus. + MARCUS. And welcome, nephews, from successful wars, + You that survive and you that sleep in fame. + Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all + That in your country's service drew your swords; + But safer triumph is this funeral pomp + That hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness + And triumphs over chance in honour's bed. + Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, + Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, + Send thee by me, their Tribune and their trust, + This par]iament of white and spotless hue; + And name thee in election for the empire + With these our late-deceased Emperor's sons: + Be candidatus then, and put it on, + And help to set a head on headless Rome. + TITUS. A better head her glorious body fits + Than his that shakes for age and feebleness. + What should I don this robe and trouble you? + Be chosen with proclamations to-day, + To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life, + And set abroad new business for you all? + Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, + And led my country's strength successfully, + And buried one and twenty valiant sons, + Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, + In right and service of their noble country. + Give me a staff of honour for mine age, + But not a sceptre to control the world. + Upright he held it, lords, that held it last. + MARCUS. Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery. + SATURNINUS. Proud and ambitious Tribune, canst thou tell? + TITUS. Patience, Prince Saturninus. + SATURNINUS. Romans, do me right. + Patricians, draw your swords, and sheathe them not + Till Saturninus be Rome's Emperor. + Andronicus, would thou were shipp'd to hell + Rather than rob me of the people's hearts! + LUCIUS. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good + That noble-minded Titus means to thee! + TITUS. Content thee, Prince; I will restore to thee + The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves. + BASSIANUS. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, + But honour thee, and will do till I die. + My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, + I will most thankful be; and thanks to men + Of noble minds is honourable meed. + TITUS. People of Rome, and people's Tribunes here, + I ask your voices and your suffrages: + Will ye bestow them friendly on Andronicus? + TRIBUNES. To gratify the good Andronicus, + And gratulate his safe return to Rome, + The people will accept whom he admits. + TITUS. Tribunes, I thank you; and this suit I make, + That you create our Emperor's eldest son, + Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope, + Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth, + And ripen justice in this commonweal. + Then, if you will elect by my advice, + Crown him, and say 'Long live our Emperor!' + MARCUS. With voices and applause of every sort, + Patricians and plebeians, we create + Lord Saturninus Rome's great Emperor; + And say 'Long live our Emperor Saturnine!' + [A long flourish till they come down] + SATURNINUS. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done + To us in our election this day + I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, + And will with deeds requite thy gentleness; + And for an onset, Titus, to advance + Thy name and honourable family, + Lavinia will I make my emperess, + Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart, + And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse. + Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee? + TITUS. It doth, my worthy lord, and in this match + I hold me highly honoured of your Grace, + And here in sight of Rome, to Saturnine, + King and commander of our commonweal, + The wide world's Emperor, do I consecrate + My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners, + Presents well worthy Rome's imperious lord; + Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, + Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet. + SATURNINUS. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life. + How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts + Rome shall record; and when I do forget + The least of these unspeakable deserts, + Romans, forget your fealty to me. + TITUS. [To TAMORA] Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor; + To him that for your honour and your state + Will use you nobly and your followers. + SATURNINUS. [Aside] A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue + That I would choose, were I to choose anew.- + Clear up, fair Queen, that cloudy countenance; + Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer, + Thou com'st not to be made a scorn in Rome- + Princely shall be thy usage every way. + Rest on my word, and let not discontent + Daunt all your hopes. Madam, he comforts you + Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths. + Lavinia, you are not displeas'd with this? + LAVINIA. Not I, my lord, sith true nobility + Warrants these words in princely courtesy. + SATURNINUS. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go. + Ransomless here we set our prisoners free. + Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum. + [Flourish] + BASSIANUS. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. + [Seizing LAVINIA] + TITUS. How, sir! Are you in earnest then, my lord? + BASSIANUS. Ay, noble Titus, and resolv'd withal + To do myself this reason and this right. + MARCUS. Suum cuique is our Roman justice: + This prince in justice seizeth but his own. + LUCIUS. And that he will and shall, if Lucius live. + TITUS. Traitors, avaunt! Where is the Emperor's guard? + Treason, my lord- Lavinia is surpris'd! + SATURNINUS. Surpris'd! By whom? + BASSIANUS. By him that justly may + Bear his betroth'd from all the world away. + Exeunt BASSIANUS and MARCUS with LAVINIA + MUTIUS. Brothers, help to convey her hence away, + And with my sword I'll keep this door safe. + Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS + TITUS. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back. + MUTIUS. My lord, you pass not here. + TITUS. What, villain boy! + Bar'st me my way in Rome? + MUTIUS. Help, Lucius, help! + TITUS kills him. During the fray, exeunt SATURNINUS, + TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, and AARON + + Re-enter Lucius + + LUCIUS. My lord, you are unjust, and more than so: + In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. + TITUS. Nor thou nor he are any sons of mine; + My sons would never so dishonour me. + + Re-enter aloft the EMPEROR + with TAMORA and her two Sons, and AARON the Moor + + Traitor, restore Lavinia to the Emperor. + LUCIUS. Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife, + That is another's lawful promis'd love. Exit + SATURNINUS. No, Titus, no; the Emperor needs her not, + Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock. + I'll trust by leisure him that mocks me once; + Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, + Confederates all thus to dishonour me. + Was there none else in Rome to make a stale + But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus, + Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine + That saidst I begg'd the empire at thy hands. + TITUS. O monstrous! What reproachful words are these? + SATURNINUS. But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece + To him that flourish'd for her with his sword. + A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy; + One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, + To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome. + TITUS. These words are razors to my wounded heart. + SATURNINUS. And therefore, lovely Tamora, Queen of Goths, + That, like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs, + Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome, + If thou be pleas'd with this my sudden choice, + Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride + And will create thee Emperess of Rome. + Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice? + And here I swear by all the Roman gods- + Sith priest and holy water are so near, + And tapers burn so bright, and everything + In readiness for Hymenaeus stand- + I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, + Or climb my palace, till from forth this place + I lead espous'd my bride along with me. + TAMORA. And here in sight of heaven to Rome I swear, + If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, + She will a handmaid be to his desires, + A loving nurse, a mother to his youth. + SATURNINUS. Ascend, fair Queen, Pantheon. Lords, accompany + Your noble Emperor and his lovely bride, + Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, + Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered; + There shall we consummate our spousal rites. + Exeunt all but TITUS + TITUS. I am not bid to wait upon this bride. + TITUS, when wert thou wont to walk alone, + Dishonoured thus, and challenged of wrongs? + + Re-enter MARCUS, + and TITUS' SONS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS + + MARCUS. O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done! + In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son. + TITUS. No, foolish Tribune, no; no son of mine- + Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed + That hath dishonoured all our family; + Unworthy brother and unworthy sons! + LUCIUS. But let us give him burial, as becomes; + Give Mutius burial with our bretheren. + TITUS. Traitors, away! He rests not in this tomb. + This monument five hundred years hath stood, + Which I have sumptuously re-edified; + Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors + Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls. + Bury him where you can, he comes not here. + MARCUS. My lord, this is impiety in you. + My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him; + He must be buried with his bretheren. + QUINTUS & MARTIUS. And shall, or him we will accompany. + TITUS. 'And shall!' What villain was it spake that word? + QUINTUS. He that would vouch it in any place but here. + TITUS. What, would you bury him in my despite? + MARCUS. No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee + To pardon Mutius and to bury him. + TITUS. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, + And with these boys mine honour thou hast wounded. + My foes I do repute you every one; + So trouble me no more, but get you gone. + MARTIUS. He is not with himself; let us withdraw. + QUINTUS. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. + [The BROTHER and the SONS kneel] + MARCUS. Brother, for in that name doth nature plead- + QUINTUS. Father, and in that name doth nature speak- + TITUS. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. + MARCUS. Renowned Titus, more than half my soul- + LUCIUS. Dear father, soul and substance of us all- + MARCUS. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter + His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, + That died in honour and Lavinia's cause. + Thou art a Roman- be not barbarous. + The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax, + That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son + Did graciously plead for his funerals. + Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy, + Be barr'd his entrance here. + TITUS. Rise, Marcus, rise; + The dismal'st day is this that e'er I saw, + To be dishonoured by my sons in Rome! + Well, bury him, and bury me the next. + [They put MUTIUS in the tomb] + LUCIUS. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, + Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb. + ALL. [Kneeling] No man shed tears for noble Mutius; + He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause. + MARCUS. My lord- to step out of these dreary dumps- + How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths + Is of a sudden thus advanc'd in Rome? + TITUS. I know not, Marcus, but I know it is- + Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell. + Is she not, then, beholding to the man + That brought her for this high good turn so far? + MARCUS. Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. + + Flourish. Re-enter the EMPEROR, TAMORA + and her two SONS, with the MOOR, at one door; + at the other door, BASSIANUS and LAVINIA, with others + + SATURNINUS. So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize: + God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride! + BASSIANUS. And you of yours, my lord! I say no more, + Nor wish no less; and so I take my leave. + SATURNINUS. Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power, + Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape. + BASSIANUS. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own, + My true betrothed love, and now my wife? + But let the laws of Rome determine all; + Meanwhile am I possess'd of that is mine. + SATURNINUS. 'Tis good, sir. You are very short with us; + But if we live we'll be as sharp with you. + BASSIANUS. My lord, what I have done, as best I may, + Answer I must, and shall do with my life. + Only thus much I give your Grace to know: + By all the duties that I owe to Rome, + This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here, + Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd, + That, in the rescue of Lavinia, + With his own hand did slay his youngest son, + In zeal to you, and highly mov'd to wrath + To be controll'd in that he frankly gave. + Receive him then to favour, Saturnine, + That hath express'd himself in all his deeds + A father and a friend to thee and Rome. + TITUS. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds. + 'Tis thou and those that have dishonoured me. + Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge + How I have lov'd and honoured Saturnine! + TAMORA. My worthy lord, if ever Tamora + Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, + Then hear me speak indifferently for all; + And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past. + SATURNINUS. What, madam! be dishonoured openly, + And basely put it up without revenge? + TAMORA. Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend + I should be author to dishonour you! + But on mine honour dare I undertake + For good Lord Titus' innocence in all, + Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs. + Then at my suit look graciously on him; + Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, + Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. + [Aside to SATURNINUS] My lord, be rul'd by me, + be won at last; + Dissemble all your griefs and discontents. + You are but newly planted in your throne; + Lest, then, the people, and patricians too, + Upon a just survey take Titus' part, + And so supplant you for ingratitude, + Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin, + Yield at entreats, and then let me alone: + I'll find a day to massacre them all, + And raze their faction and their family, + The cruel father and his traitorous sons, + To whom I sued for my dear son's life; + And make them know what 'tis to let a queen + Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain.- + Come, come, sweet Emperor; come, Andronicus. + Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart + That dies in tempest of thy angry frown. + SATURNINUS. Rise, Titus, rise; my Empress hath prevail'd. + TITUS. I thank your Majesty and her, my lord; + These words, these looks, infuse new life in me. + TAMORA. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, + A Roman now adopted happily, + And must advise the Emperor for his good. + This day all quarrels die, Andronicus; + And let it be mine honour, good my lord, + That I have reconcil'd your friends and you. + For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass'd + My word and promise to the Emperor + That you will be more mild and tractable. + And fear not, lords- and you, Lavinia. + By my advice, all humbled on your knees, + You shall ask pardon of his Majesty. + LUCIUS. We do, and vow to heaven and to his Highness + That what we did was mildly as we might, + Tend'ring our sister's honour and our own. + MARCUS. That on mine honour here do I protest. + SATURNINUS. Away, and talk not; trouble us no more. + TAMORA. Nay, nay, sweet Emperor, we must all be friends. + The Tribune and his nephews kneel for grace. + I will not be denied. Sweet heart, look back. + SATURNINUS. Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother's here, + And at my lovely Tamora's entreats, + I do remit these young men's heinous faults. + Stand up. + Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, + I found a friend; and sure as death I swore + I would not part a bachelor from the priest. + Come, if the Emperor's court can feast two brides, + You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends. + This day shall be a love-day, Tamora. + TITUS. To-morrow, and it please your Majesty + To hunt the panther and the hart with me, + With horn and hound we'll give your Grace bonjour. + SATURNINUS. Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. + Exeunt. Sound trumpets + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +Rome. Before the palace + +Enter AARON + + AARON. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top, + Safe out of Fortune's shot, and sits aloft, + Secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash, + Advanc'd above pale envy's threat'ning reach. + As when the golden sun salutes the morn, + And, having gilt the ocean with his beams, + Gallops the zodiac in his glistening coach + And overlooks the highest-peering hills, + So Tamora. + Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, + And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. + Then, Aaron, arm thy heart and fit thy thoughts + To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, + And mount her pitch whom thou in triumph long. + Hast prisoner held, fett'red in amorous chains, + And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes + Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. + Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts! + I will be bright and shine in pearl and gold, + To wait upon this new-made emperess. + To wait, said I? To wanton with this queen, + This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, + This siren that will charm Rome's Saturnine, + And see his shipwreck and his commonweal's. + Hullo! what storm is this? + + Enter CHIRON and DEMETRIUS, braving + + DEMETRIUS. Chiron, thy years wants wit, thy wits wants edge + And manners, to intrude where I am grac'd, + And may, for aught thou knowest, affected be. + CHIRON. Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in all; + And so in this, to bear me down with braves. + 'Tis not the difference of a year or two + Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate: + I am as able and as fit as thou + To serve and to deserve my mistress' grace; + And that my sword upon thee shall approve, + And plead my passions for Lavinia's love. + AARON. [Aside] Clubs, clubs! These lovers will not keep the + peace. + DEMETRIUS. Why, boy, although our mother, unadvis'd, + Gave you a dancing rapier by your side, + Are you so desperate grown to threat your friends? + Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath + Till you know better how to handle it. + CHIRON. Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, + Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare. + DEMETRIUS. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave? [They draw] + AARON. [Coming forward] Why, how now, lords! + So near the Emperor's palace dare ye draw + And maintain such a quarrel openly? + Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge: + I would not for a million of gold + The cause were known to them it most concerns; + Nor would your noble mother for much more + Be so dishonoured in the court of Rome. + For shame, put up. + DEMETRIUS. Not I, till I have sheath'd + My rapier in his bosom, and withal + Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat + That he hath breath'd in my dishonour here. + CHIRON. For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd, + Foul-spoken coward, that thund'rest with thy tongue, + And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform. + AARON. Away, I say! + Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore, + This pretty brabble will undo us all. + Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous + It is to jet upon a prince's right? + What, is Lavinia then become so loose, + Or Bassianus so degenerate, + That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd + Without controlment, justice, or revenge? + Young lords, beware; an should the Empress know + This discord's ground, the music would not please. + CHIRON. I care not, I, knew she and all the world: + I love Lavinia more than all the world. + DEMETRIUS. Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice: + Lavina is thine elder brother's hope. + AARON. Why, are ye mad, or know ye not in Rome + How furious and impatient they be, + And cannot brook competitors in love? + I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths + By this device. + CHIRON. Aaron, a thousand deaths + Would I propose to achieve her whom I love. + AARON. To achieve her- how? + DEMETRIUS. Why mak'st thou it so strange? + She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; + She is a woman, therefore may be won; + She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd. + What, man! more water glideth by the mill + Than wots the miller of; and easy it is + Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know. + Though Bassianus be the Emperor's brother, + Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge. + AARON. [Aside] Ay, and as good as Saturninus may. + DEMETRIUS. Then why should he despair that knows to court it + With words, fair looks, and liberality? + What, hast not thou full often struck a doe, + And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? + AARON. Why, then, it seems some certain snatch or so + Would serve your turns. + CHIRON. Ay, so the turn were served. + DEMETRIUS. Aaron, thou hast hit it. + AARON. Would you had hit it too! + Then should not we be tir'd with this ado. + Why, hark ye, hark ye! and are you such fools + To square for this? Would it offend you, then, + That both should speed? + CHIRON. Faith, not me. + DEMETRIUS. Nor me, so I were one. + AARON. For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar. + 'Tis policy and stratagem must do + That you affect; and so must you resolve + That what you cannot as you would achieve, + You must perforce accomplish as you may. + Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste + Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. + A speedier course than ling'ring languishment + Must we pursue, and I have found the path. + My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; + There will the lovely Roman ladies troop; + The forest walks are wide and spacious, + And many unfrequented plots there are + Fitted by kind for rape and villainy. + Single you thither then this dainty doe, + And strike her home by force if not by words. + This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. + Come, come, our Empress, with her sacred wit + To villainy and vengeance consecrate, + Will we acquaint with all what we intend; + And she shall file our engines with advice + That will not suffer you to square yourselves, + But to your wishes' height advance you both. + The Emperor's court is like the house of Fame, + The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears; + The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull. + There speak and strike, brave boys, and take your turns; + There serve your lust, shadowed from heaven's eye, + And revel in Lavinia's treasury. + CHIRON. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice. + DEMETRIUS. Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream + To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits, + Per Styga, per manes vehor. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +A forest near Rome + +Enter TITUS ANDRONICUS, and his three sons, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, +making a noise with hounds and horns; and MARCUS + + TITUS. The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey, + The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green. + Uncouple here, and let us make a bay, + And wake the Emperor and his lovely bride, + And rouse the Prince, and ring a hunter's peal, + That all the court may echo with the noise. + Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, + To attend the Emperor's person carefully. + I have been troubled in my sleep this night, + But dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd. + + Here a cry of hounds, and wind horns in a peal. + Then enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, BASSIANUS LAVINIA, + CHIRON, DEMETRIUS, and their attendants + Many good morrows to your Majesty! + Madam, to you as many and as good! + I promised your Grace a hunter's peal. + SATURNINUS. And you have rung it lustily, my lords- + Somewhat too early for new-married ladies. + BASSIANUS. Lavinia, how say you? + LAVINIA. I say no; + I have been broad awake two hours and more. + SATURNINUS. Come on then, horse and chariots let us have, + And to our sport. [To TAMORA] Madam, now shall ye see + Our Roman hunting. + MARCUS. I have dogs, my lord, + Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, + And climb the highest promontory top. + TITUS. And I have horse will follow where the game + Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. + DEMETRIUS. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound, + But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +A lonely part of the forest + +Enter AARON alone, with a bag of gold + + AARON. He that had wit would think that I had none, + To bury so much gold under a tree + And never after to inherit it. + Let him that thinks of me so abjectly + Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, + Which, cunningly effected, will beget + A very excellent piece of villainy. + And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest + [Hides the gold] + That have their alms out of the Empress' chest. + + Enter TAMORA alone, to the Moor + + TAMORA. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad + When everything does make a gleeful boast? + The birds chant melody on every bush; + The snakes lie rolled in the cheerful sun; + The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind + And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground; + Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, + And while the babbling echo mocks the hounds, + Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns, + As if a double hunt were heard at once, + Let us sit down and mark their yellowing noise; + And- after conflict such as was suppos'd + The wand'ring prince and Dido once enjoyed, + When with a happy storm they were surpris'd, + And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave- + We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, + Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber, + Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds + Be unto us as is a nurse's song + Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep. + AARON. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, + Saturn is dominator over mine. + What signifies my deadly-standing eye, + My silence and my cloudy melancholy, + My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls + Even as an adder when she doth unroll + To do some fatal execution? + No, madam, these are no venereal signs. + Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, + Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. + Hark, Tamora, the empress of my soul, + Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee- + This is the day of doom for Bassianus; + His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day, + Thy sons make pillage of her chastity, + And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. + Seest thou this letter? Take it up, I pray thee, + And give the King this fatal-plotted scroll. + Now question me no more; we are espied. + Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty, + Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction. + + Enter BASSIANUS and LAVINIA + + TAMORA. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life! + AARON. No more, great Empress: Bassianus comes. + Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons + To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be. Exit + BASSIANUS. Who have we here? Rome's royal Emperess, + Unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop? + Or is it Dian, habited like her, + Who hath abandoned her holy groves + To see the general hunting in this forest? + TAMORA. Saucy controller of my private steps! + Had I the pow'r that some say Dian had, + Thy temples should be planted presently + With horns, as was Actaeon's; and the hounds + Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs, + Unmannerly intruder as thou art! + LAVINIA. Under your patience, gentle Emperess, + 'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning, + And to be doubted that your Moor and you + Are singled forth to try thy experiments. + Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day! + 'Tis pity they should take him for a stag. + BASSIANUS. Believe me, Queen, your swarth Cimmerian + Doth make your honour of his body's hue, + Spotted, detested, and abominable. + Why are you sequest'red from all your train, + Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed, + And wand'red hither to an obscure plot, + Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, + If foul desire had not conducted you? + LAVINIA. And, being intercepted in your sport, + Great reason that my noble lord be rated + For sauciness. I pray you let us hence, + And let her joy her raven-coloured love; + This valley fits the purpose passing well. + BASSIANUS. The King my brother shall have notice of this. + LAVINIA. Ay, for these slips have made him noted long. + Good king, to be so mightily abused! + TAMORA. Why, I have patience to endure all this. + + Enter CHIRON and DEMETRIUS + + DEMETRIUS. How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother! + Why doth your Highness look so pale and wan? + TAMORA. Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? + These two have 'ticed me hither to this place. + A barren detested vale you see it is: + The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, + Overcome with moss and baleful mistletoe; + Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds, + Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven. + And when they show'd me this abhorred pit, + They told me, here, at dead time of the night, + A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, + Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, + Would make such fearful and confused cries + As any mortal body hearing it + Should straight fall mad or else die suddenly. + No sooner had they told this hellish tale + But straight they told me they would bind me here + Unto the body of a dismal yew, + And leave me to this miserable death. + And then they call'd me foul adulteress, + Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms + That ever ear did hear to such effect; + And had you not by wondrous fortune come, + This vengeance on me had they executed. + Revenge it, as you love your mother's life, + Or be ye not henceforth call'd my children. + DEMETRIUS. This is a witness that I am thy son. + [Stabs BASSIANUS] + CHIRON. And this for me, struck home to show my strength. + [Also stabs] + LAVINIA. Ay, come, Semiramis- nay, barbarous Tamora, + For no name fits thy nature but thy own! + TAMORA. Give me the poniard; you shall know, my boys, + Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong. + DEMETRIUS. Stay, madam, here is more belongs to her; + First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw. + This minion stood upon her chastity, + Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, + And with that painted hope braves your mightiness; + And shall she carry this unto her grave? + CHIRON. An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. + Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, + And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. + TAMORA. But when ye have the honey we desire, + Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting. + CHIRON. I warrant you, madam, we will make that sure. + Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy + That nice-preserved honesty of yours. + LAVINIA. O Tamora! thou bearest a woman's face- + TAMORA. I will not hear her speak; away with her! + LAVINIA. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word. + DEMETRIUS. Listen, fair madam: let it be your glory + To see her tears; but be your heart to them + As unrelenting flint to drops of rain. + LAVINIA. When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam? + O, do not learn her wrath- she taught it thee; + The milk thou suck'dst from her did turn to marble, + Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny. + Yet every mother breeds not sons alike: + [To CHIRON] Do thou entreat her show a woman's pity. + CHIRON. What, wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard? + LAVINIA. 'Tis true, the raven doth not hatch a lark. + Yet have I heard- O, could I find it now!- + The lion, mov'd with pity, did endure + To have his princely paws par'd all away. + Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, + The whilst their own birds famish in their nests; + O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, + Nothing so kind, but something pitiful! + TAMORA. I know not what it means; away with her! + LAVINIA. O, let me teach thee! For my father's sake, + That gave thee life when well he might have slain thee, + Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. + TAMORA. Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me, + Even for his sake am I pitiless. + Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain + To save your brother from the sacrifice; + But fierce Andronicus would not relent. + Therefore away with her, and use her as you will; + The worse to her the better lov'd of me. + LAVINIA. O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, + And with thine own hands kill me in this place! + For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long; + Poor I was slain when Bassianus died. + TAMORA. What beg'st thou, then? Fond woman, let me go. + LAVINIA. 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more, + That womanhood denies my tongue to tell: + O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, + And tumble me into some loathsome pit, + Where never man's eye may behold my body; + Do this, and be a charitable murderer. + TAMORA. So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee; + No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. + DEMETRIUS. Away! for thou hast stay'd us here too long. + LAVINIA. No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly creature, + The blot and enemy to our general name! + Confusion fall- + CHIRON. Nay, then I'll stop your mouth. Bring thou her husband. + This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. + + DEMETRIUS throws the body + of BASSIANUS into the pit; then exeunt + DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, dragging off LAVINIA + + TAMORA. Farewell, my sons; see that you make her sure. + Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed + Till all the Andronici be made away. + Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, + And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower. Exit + + Re-enter AARON, with two + of TITUS' sons, QUINTUS and MARTIUS + + AARON. Come on, my lords, the better foot before; + Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit + Where I espied the panther fast asleep. + QUINTUS. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. + MARTIUS. And mine, I promise you; were it not for shame, + Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. + [Falls into the pit] + QUINTUS. What, art thou fallen? What subtle hole is this, + Whose mouth is covered with rude-growing briers, + Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood + As fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers? + A very fatal place it seems to me. + Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall? + MARTIUS. O brother, with the dismal'st object hurt + That ever eye with sight made heart lament! + AARON. [Aside] Now will I fetch the King to find them here, + That he thereby may have a likely guess + How these were they that made away his brother. Exit + MARTIUS. Why dost not comfort me, and help me out + From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole? + QUINTUS. I am surprised with an uncouth fear; + A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints; + My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. + MARTIUS. To prove thou hast a true divining heart, + Aaron and thou look down into this den, + And see a fearful sight of blood and death. + QUINTUS. Aaron is gone, and my compassionate heart + Will not permit mine eyes once to behold + The thing whereat it trembles by surmise; + O, tell me who it is, for ne'er till now + Was I a child to fear I know not what. + MARTIUS. Lord Bassianus lies beray'd in blood, + All on a heap, like to a slaughtered lamb, + In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. + QUINTUS. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he? + MARTIUS. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear + A precious ring that lightens all this hole, + Which, like a taper in some monument, + Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, + And shows the ragged entrails of this pit; + So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus + When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood. + O brother, help me with thy fainting hand- + If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath- + Out of this fell devouring receptacle, + As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. + QUINTUS. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out, + Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, + I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb + Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. + I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. + MARTIUS. Nor I no strength to climb without thy help. + QUINTUS. Thy hand once more; I will not loose again, + Till thou art here aloft, or I below. + Thou canst not come to me- I come to thee. [Falls in] + + Enter the EMPEROR and AARON the Moor + + SATURNINUS. Along with me! I'll see what hole is here, + And what he is that now is leapt into it. + Say, who art thou that lately didst descend + Into this gaping hollow of the earth? + MARTIUS. The unhappy sons of old Andronicus, + Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, + To find thy brother Bassianus dead. + SATURNINUS. My brother dead! I know thou dost but jest: + He and his lady both are at the lodge + Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; + 'Tis not an hour since I left them there. + MARTIUS. We know not where you left them all alive; + But, out alas! here have we found him dead. + + Re-enter TAMORA, with + attendants; TITUS ANDRONICUS and Lucius + + TAMORA. Where is my lord the King? + SATURNINUS. Here, Tamora; though griev'd with killing grief. + TAMORA. Where is thy brother Bassianus? + SATURNINUS. Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound; + Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. + TAMORA. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, + The complot of this timeless tragedy; + And wonder greatly that man's face can fold + In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. + [She giveth SATURNINE a letter] + SATURNINUS. [Reads] 'An if we miss to meet him handsomely, + Sweet huntsman- Bassianus 'tis we mean- + Do thou so much as dig the grave for him. + Thou know'st our meaning. Look for thy reward + Among the nettles at the elder-tree + Which overshades the mouth of that same pit + Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. + Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.' + O Tamora! was ever heard the like? + This is the pit and this the elder-tree. + Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out + That should have murdered Bassianus here. + AARON. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. + SATURNINUS. [To TITUS] Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody + kind, + Have here bereft my brother of his life. + Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison; + There let them bide until we have devis'd + Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. + TAMORA. What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing! + How easily murder is discovered! + TITUS. High Emperor, upon my feeble knee + I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, + That this fell fault of my accursed sons- + Accursed if the fault be prov'd in them- + SATURNINUS. If it be prov'd! You see it is apparent. + Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? + TAMORA. Andronicus himself did take it up. + TITUS. I did, my lord, yet let me be their bail; + For, by my fathers' reverend tomb, I vow + They shall be ready at your Highness' will + To answer their suspicion with their lives. + SATURNINUS. Thou shalt not bail them; see thou follow me. + Some bring the murdered body, some the murderers; + Let them not speak a word- the guilt is plain; + For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, + That end upon them should be executed. + TAMORA. Andronicus, I will entreat the King. + Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough. + TITUS. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Another part of the forest + +Enter the Empress' sons, DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, with LAVINIA, +her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out, and ravish'd + + DEMETRIUS. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, + Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee. + CHIRON. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so, + An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe. + DEMETRIUS. See how with signs and tokens she can scrowl. + CHIRON. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands. + DEMETRIUS. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash; + And so let's leave her to her silent walks. + CHIRON. An 'twere my cause, I should go hang myself. + DEMETRIUS. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord. + Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON + + Wind horns. Enter MARCUS, from hunting + + MARCUS. Who is this?- my niece, that flies away so fast? + Cousin, a word: where is your husband? + If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me! + If I do wake, some planet strike me down, + That I may slumber an eternal sleep! + Speak, gentle niece. What stern ungentle hands + Hath lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare + Of her two branches- those sweet ornaments + Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in, + And might not gain so great a happiness + As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me? + Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, + Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, + Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, + Coming and going with thy honey breath. + But sure some Tereus hath deflowered thee, + And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue. + Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! + And notwithstanding all this loss of blood- + As from a conduit with three issuing spouts- + Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face + Blushing to be encount'red with a cloud. + Shall I speak for thee? Shall I say 'tis so? + O, that I knew thy heart, and knew the beast, + That I might rail at him to ease my mind! + Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, + Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. + Fair Philomel, why she but lost her tongue, + And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind; + But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee. + A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, + And he hath cut those pretty fingers off + That could have better sew'd than Philomel. + O, had the monster seen those lily hands + Tremble like aspen leaves upon a lute + And make the silken strings delight to kiss them, + He would not then have touch'd them for his life! + Or had he heard the heavenly harmony + Which that sweet tongue hath made, + He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, + As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet. + Come, let us go, and make thy father blind, + For such a sight will blind a father's eye; + One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads, + What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes? + Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee; + O, could our mourning case thy misery! Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Rome. A street + +Enter the JUDGES, TRIBUNES, and SENATORS, with TITUS' two sons +MARTIUS and QUINTUS bound, passing on the stage to the place of execution, +and TITUS going before, pleading + + TITUS. Hear me, grave fathers; noble Tribunes, stay! + For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent + In dangerous wars whilst you securely slept; + For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed, + For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd, + And for these bitter tears, which now you see + Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks, + Be pitiful to my condemned sons, + Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought. + For two and twenty sons I never wept, + Because they died in honour's lofty bed. + [ANDRONICUS lieth down, and the judges + pass by him with the prisoners, and exeunt] + For these, Tribunes, in the dust I write + My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears. + Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite; + My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. + O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain + That shall distil from these two ancient urns, + Than youthful April shall with all his show'rs. + In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still; + In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow + And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, + So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. + + Enter Lucius with his weapon drawn + + O reverend Tribunes! O gentle aged men! + Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death, + And let me say, that never wept before, + My tears are now prevailing orators. + LUCIUS. O noble father, you lament in vain; + The Tribunes hear you not, no man is by, + And you recount your sorrows to a stone. + TITUS. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead! + Grave Tribunes, once more I entreat of you. + LUCIUS. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak. + TITUS. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did hear, + They would not mark me; if they did mark, + They would not pity me; yet plead I must, + And bootless unto them. + Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; + Who though they cannot answer my distress, + Yet in some sort they are better than the Tribunes, + For that they will not intercept my tale. + When I do weep, they humbly at my feet + Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; + And were they but attired in grave weeds, + Rome could afford no tribunes like to these. + A stone is soft as wax: tribunes more hard than stones. + A stone is silent and offendeth not, + And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. + [Rises] + But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn? + LUCIUS. To rescue my two brothers from their death; + For which attempt the judges have pronounc'd + My everlasting doom of banishment. + TITUS. O happy man! they have befriended thee. + Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive + That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? + Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey + But me and mine; how happy art thou then + From these devourers to be banished! + But who comes with our brother Marcus here? + + Enter MARCUS with LAVINIA + + MARCUS. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep, + Or if not so, thy noble heart to break. + I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. + TITUS. Will it consume me? Let me see it then. + MARCUS. This was thy daughter. + TITUS. Why, Marcus, so she is. + LUCIUS. Ay me! this object kills me. + TITUS. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her. + Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand + Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? + What fool hath added water to the sea, + Or brought a fagot to bright-burning Troy? + My grief was at the height before thou cam'st, + And now like Nilus it disdaineth bounds. + Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too, + For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; + And they have nurs'd this woe in feeding life; + In bootless prayer have they been held up, + And they have serv'd me to effectless use. + Now all the service I require of them + Is that the one will help to cut the other. + 'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands; + For hands to do Rome service is but vain. + LUCIUS. Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? + MARCUS. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts + That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence + Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, + Where like a sweet melodious bird it sung + Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! + LUCIUS. O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed? + MARCUS. O, thus I found her straying in the park, + Seeking to hide herself as doth the deer + That hath receiv'd some unrecuring wound. + TITUS. It was my dear, and he that wounded her + Hath hurt me more than had he kill'd me dead; + For now I stand as one upon a rock, + Environ'd with a wilderness of sea, + Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, + Expecting ever when some envious surge + Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. + This way to death my wretched sons are gone; + Here stands my other son, a banish'd man, + And here my brother, weeping at my woes. + But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn + Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. + Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, + It would have madded me; what shall I do + Now I behold thy lively body so? + Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears, + Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee; + Thy husband he is dead, and for his death + Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this. + Look, Marcus! Ah, son Lucius, look on her! + When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears + Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey dew + Upon a gath'red lily almost withered. + MARCUS. Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband; + Perchance because she knows them innocent. + TITUS. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, + Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them. + No, no, they would not do so foul a deed; + Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. + Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips, + Or make some sign how I may do thee ease. + Shall thy good uncle and thy brother Lucius + And thou and I sit round about some fountain, + Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks + How they are stain'd, like meadows yet not dry + With miry slime left on them by a flood? + And in the fountain shall we gaze so long, + Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, + And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? + Or shall we cut away our hands like thine? + Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows + Pass the remainder of our hateful days? + What shall we do? Let us that have our tongues + Plot some device of further misery + To make us wonder'd at in time to come. + LUCIUS. Sweet father, cease your tears; for at your grief + See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. + MARCUS. Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes. + TITUS. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! Brother, well I wot + Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, + For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own. + LUCIUS. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. + TITUS. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs. + Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say + That to her brother which I said to thee: + His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, + Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. + O, what a sympathy of woe is this + As far from help as Limbo is from bliss! + + Enter AARON the Moor + + AARON. Titus Andronicus, my lord the Emperor + Sends thee this word, that, if thou love thy sons, + Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, + Or any one of you, chop off your hand + And send it to the King: he for the same + Will send thee hither both thy sons alive, + And that shall be the ransom for their fault. + TITUS. O gracious Emperor! O gentle Aaron! + Did ever raven sing so like a lark + That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? + With all my heart I'll send the Emperor my hand. + Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? + LUCIUS. Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine, + That hath thrown down so many enemies, + Shall not be sent. My hand will serve the turn, + My youth can better spare my blood than you, + And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. + MARCUS. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome + And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, + Writing destruction on the enemy's castle? + O, none of both but are of high desert! + My hand hath been but idle; let it serve + To ransom my two nephews from their death; + Then have I kept it to a worthy end. + AARON. Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, + For fear they die before their pardon come. + MARCUS. My hand shall go. + LUCIUS. By heaven, it shall not go! + TITUS. Sirs, strive no more; such with'red herbs as these + Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. + LUCIUS. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, + Let me redeem my brothers both from death. + MARCUS. And for our father's sake and mother's care, + Now let me show a brother's love to thee. + TITUS. Agree between you; I will spare my hand. + LUCIUS. Then I'll go fetch an axe. + MARCUS. But I will use the axe. + Exeunt LUCIUS and MARCUS + TITUS. Come hither, Aaron, I'll deceive them both; + Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. + AARON. [Aside] If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, + And never whilst I live deceive men so; + But I'll deceive you in another sort, + And that you'll say ere half an hour pass. + [He cuts off TITUS' hand] + + Re-enter LUCIUS and MARCUS + + TITUS. Now stay your strife. What shall be is dispatch'd. + Good Aaron, give his Majesty my hand; + Tell him it was a hand that warded him + From thousand dangers; bid him bury it. + More hath it merited- that let it have. + As for my sons, say I account of them + As jewels purchas'd at an easy price; + And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. + AARON. I go, Andronicus; and for thy hand + Look by and by to have thy sons with thee. + [Aside] Their heads I mean. O, how this villainy + Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! + Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace: + Aaron will have his soul black like his face. Exit + TITUS. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, + And bow this feeble ruin to the earth; + If any power pities wretched tears, + To that I call! [To LAVINIA] What, would'st thou kneel with me? + Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers, + Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim + And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds + When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. + MARCUS. O brother, speak with possibility, + And do not break into these deep extremes. + TITUS. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? + Then be my passions bottomless with them. + MARCUS. But yet let reason govern thy lament. + TITUS. If there were reason for these miseries, + Then into limits could I bind my woes. + When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? + If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, + Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swol'n face? + And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? + I am the sea; hark how her sighs do blow. + She is the weeping welkin, I the earth; + Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; + Then must my earth with her continual tears + Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd; + For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, + But like a drunkard must I vomit them. + Then give me leave; for losers will have leave + To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. + + Enter a MESSENGER, with two heads and a hand + + MESSENGER. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid + For that good hand thou sent'st the Emperor. + Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; + And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back- + Thy grief their sports, thy resolution mock'd, + That woe is me to think upon thy woes, + More than remembrance of my father's death. Exit + MARCUS. Now let hot Aetna cool in Sicily, + And be my heart an ever-burning hell! + These miseries are more than may be borne. + To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, + But sorrow flouted at is double death. + LUCIUS. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound, + And yet detested life not shrink thereat! + That ever death should let life bear his name, + Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! + [LAVINIA kisses TITUS] + MARCUS. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless + As frozen water to a starved snake. + TITUS. When will this fearful slumber have an end? + MARCUS. Now farewell, flatt'ry; die, Andronicus. + Thou dost not slumber: see thy two sons' heads, + Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here; + Thy other banish'd son with this dear sight + Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, + Even like a stony image, cold and numb. + Ah! now no more will I control thy griefs. + Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand + Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight + The closing up of our most wretched eyes. + Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? + TITUS. Ha, ha, ha! + MARCUS. Why dost thou laugh? It fits not with this hour. + TITUS. Why, I have not another tear to shed; + Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, + And would usurp upon my wat'ry eyes + And make them blind with tributary tears. + Then which way shall I find Revenge's cave? + For these two heads do seem to speak to me, + And threat me I shall never come to bliss + Till all these mischiefs be return'd again + Even in their throats that have committed them. + Come, let me see what task I have to do. + You heavy people, circle me about, + That I may turn me to each one of you + And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. + The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head, + And in this hand the other will I bear. + And, Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd in this; + Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth. + As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight; + Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay. + Hie to the Goths and raise an army there; + And if ye love me, as I think you do, + Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. + Exeunt all but Lucius + LUCIUS. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father, + The woefull'st man that ever liv'd in Rome. + Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again, + He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. + Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister; + O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! + But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives + But in oblivion and hateful griefs. + If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs + And make proud Saturnine and his emperess + Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his queen. + Now will I to the Goths, and raise a pow'r + To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Rome. TITUS' house + +A banquet. + +Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA, and the boy YOUNG LUCIUS + + TITUS. So so, now sit; and look you eat no more + Than will preserve just so much strength in us + As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. + Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot; + Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, + And cannot passionate our tenfold grief + With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine + Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; + Who, when my heart, all mad with misery, + Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, + Then thus I thump it down. + [To LAVINIA] Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! + When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, + Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. + Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; + Or get some little knife between thy teeth + And just against thy heart make thou a hole, + That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall + May run into that sink and, soaking in, + Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. + MARCUS. Fie, brother, fie! Teach her not thus to lay + Such violent hands upon her tender life. + TITUS. How now! Has sorrow made thee dote already? + Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. + What violent hands can she lay on her life? + Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands? + To bid Aeneas tell the tale twice o'er + How Troy was burnt and he made miserable? + O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands, + Lest we remember still that we have none. + Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk, + As if we should forget we had no hands, + If Marcus did not name the word of hands! + Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this: + Here is no drink. Hark, Marcus, what she says- + I can interpret all her martyr'd signs; + She says she drinks no other drink but tears, + Brew'd with her sorrow, mesh'd upon her cheeks. + Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; + In thy dumb action will I be as perfect + As begging hermits in their holy prayers. + Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, + Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, + But I of these will wrest an alphabet, + And by still practice learn to know thy meaning. + BOY. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments; + Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. + MARCUS. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd, + Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. + TITUS. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears, + And tears will quickly melt thy life away. + [MARCUS strikes the dish with a knife] + What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife? + MARCUS. At that that I have kill'd, my lord- a fly. + TITUS. Out on thee, murderer, thou kill'st my heart! + Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny; + A deed of death done on the innocent + Becomes not Titus' brother. Get thee gone; + I see thou art not for my company. + MARCUS. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. + TITUS. 'But!' How if that fly had a father and mother? + How would he hang his slender gilded wings + And buzz lamenting doings in the air! + Poor harmless fly, + That with his pretty buzzing melody + Came here to make us merry! And thou hast kill'd him. + MARCUS. Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favour'd fly, + Like to the Empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. + TITUS. O, O, O! + Then pardon me for reprehending thee, + For thou hast done a charitable deed. + Give me thy knife, I will insult on him, + Flattering myself as if it were the Moor + Come hither purposely to poison me. + There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora. + Ah, sirrah! + Yet, I think, we are not brought so low + But that between us we can kill a fly + That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. + MARCUS. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him, + He takes false shadows for true substances. + TITUS. Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me; + I'll to thy closet, and go read with thee + Sad stories chanced in the times of old. + Come, boy, and go with me; thy sight is young, + And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +Rome. TITUS' garden + +Enter YOUNG LUCIUS and LAVINIA running after him, +and the boy flies from her with his books under his arm. + +Enter TITUS and MARCUS + + BOY. Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia + Follows me everywhere, I know not why. + Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes! + Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. + MARCUS. Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt. + TITUS. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. + BOY. Ay, when my father was in Rome she did. + MARCUS. What means my niece Lavinia by these signs? + TITUS. Fear her not, Lucius; somewhat doth she mean. + See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee. + Somewhither would she have thee go with her. + Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care + Read to her sons than she hath read to thee + Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator. + MARCUS. Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? + BOY. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, + Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her; + For I have heard my grandsire say full oft + Extremity of griefs would make men mad; + And I have read that Hecuba of Troy + Ran mad for sorrow. That made me to fear; + Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt + Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, + And would not, but in fury, fright my youth; + Which made me down to throw my books, and fly- + Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt; + And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, + I will most willingly attend your ladyship. + MARCUS. Lucius, I will. [LAVINIA turns over with her + stumps the books which Lucius has let fall] + TITUS. How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means this? + Some book there is that she desires to see. + Which is it, girl, of these?- Open them, boy.- + But thou art deeper read and better skill'd; + Come and take choice of all my library, + And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens + Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. + Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus? + MARCUS. I think she means that there were more than one + Confederate in the fact; ay, more there was, + Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. + TITUS. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? + BOY. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses; + My mother gave it me. + MARCUS. For love of her that's gone, + Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. + TITUS. Soft! So busily she turns the leaves! Help her. + What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read? + This is the tragic tale of Philomel + And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape; + And rape, I fear, was root of thy annoy. + MARCUS. See, brother, see! Note how she quotes the leaves. + TITUS. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet girl, + Ravish'd and wrong'd as Philomela was, + Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? + See, see! + Ay, such a place there is where we did hunt- + O, had we never, never hunted there!- + Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, + By nature made for murders and for rapes. + MARCUS. O, why should nature build so foul a den, + Unless the gods delight in tragedies? + TITUS. Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends, + What Roman lord it was durst do the deed. + Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, + That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed? + MARCUS. Sit down, sweet niece; brother, sit down by me. + Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, + Inspire me, that I may this treason find! + My lord, look here! Look here, Lavinia! + [He writes his name with his + staff, and guides it with feet and mouth] + This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst, + This after me. I have writ my name + Without the help of any hand at all. + Curs'd be that heart that forc'd us to this shift! + Write thou, good niece, and here display at last + What God will have discovered for revenge. + Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, + That we may know the traitors and the truth! + [She takes the staff in her mouth + and guides it with stumps, and writes] + O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ? + TITUS. 'Stuprum- Chiron- Demetrius.' + MARCUS. What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora + Performers of this heinous bloody deed? + TITUS. Magni Dominator poli, + Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? + MARCUS. O, calm thee, gentle lord! although I know + There is enough written upon this earth + To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, + And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. + My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; + And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope; + And swear with me- as, with the woeful fere + And father of that chaste dishonoured dame, + Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape- + That we will prosecute, by good advice, + Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, + And see their blood or die with this reproach. + TITUS. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how; + But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware: + The dam will wake; and if she wind ye once, + She's with the lion deeply still in league, + And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, + And when he sleeps will she do what she list. + You are a young huntsman, Marcus; let alone; + And come, I will go get a leaf of brass, + And with a gad of steel will write these words, + And lay it by. The angry northern wind + Will blow these sands like Sibyl's leaves abroad, + And where's our lesson, then? Boy, what say you? + BOY. I say, my lord, that if I were a man + Their mother's bedchamber should not be safe + For these base bondmen to the yoke of Rome. + MARCUS. Ay, that's my boy! Thy father hath full oft + For his ungrateful country done the like. + BOY. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live. + TITUS. Come, go with me into mine armoury. + Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal my boy + Shall carry from me to the Empress' sons + Presents that I intend to send them both. + Come, come; thou'lt do my message, wilt thou not? + BOY. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire. + TITUS. No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course. + Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house. + Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court; + Ay, marry, will we, sir! and we'll be waited on. + Exeunt TITUS, LAVINIA, and YOUNG LUCIUS + MARCUS. O heavens, can you hear a good man groan + And not relent, or not compassion him? + Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, + That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart + Than foemen's marks upon his batt'red shield, + But yet so just that he will not revenge. + Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus! Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Rome. The palace + +Enter AARON, DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, at one door; and at the other door, +YOUNG LUCIUS and another with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them + + CHIRON. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; + He hath some message to deliver us. + AARON. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. + BOY. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, + I greet your honours from Andronicus- + [Aside] And pray the Roman gods confound you both! + DEMETRIUS. Gramercy, lovely Lucius. What's the news? + BOY. [Aside] That you are both decipher'd, that's the news, + For villains mark'd with rape.- May it please you, + My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me + The goodliest weapons of his armoury + To gratify your honourable youth, + The hope of Rome; for so he bid me say; + And so I do, and with his gifts present + Your lordships, that, whenever you have need, + You may be armed and appointed well. + And so I leave you both- [Aside] like bloody villains. + Exeunt YOUNG LUCIUS and attendant + DEMETRIUS. What's here? A scroll, and written round about. + Let's see: + [Reads] 'Integer vitae, scelerisque purus, + Non eget Mauri iaculis, nec arcu.' + CHIRON. O, 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well; + I read it in the grammar long ago. + AARON. Ay, just- a verse in Horace. Right, you have it. + [Aside] Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! + Here's no sound jest! The old man hath found their guilt, + And sends them weapons wrapp'd about with lines + That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick. + But were our witty Empress well afoot, + She would applaud Andronicus' conceit. + But let her rest in her unrest awhile- + And now, young lords, was't not a happy star + Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so, + Captives, to be advanced to this height? + It did me good before the palace gate + To brave the Tribune in his brother's hearing. + DEMETRIUS. But me more good to see so great a lord + Basely insinuate and send us gifts. + AARON. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? + Did you not use his daughter very friendly? + DEMETRIUS. I would we had a thousand Roman dames + At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. + CHIRON. A charitable wish and full of love. + AARON. Here lacks but your mother for to say amen. + CHIRON. And that would she for twenty thousand more. + DEMETRIUS. Come, let us go and pray to all the gods + For our beloved mother in her pains. + AARON. [Aside] Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over. + [Trumpets sound] + DEMETRIUS. Why do the Emperor's trumpets flourish thus? + CHIRON. Belike, for joy the Emperor hath a son. + DEMETRIUS. Soft! who comes here? + + Enter NURSE, with a blackamoor CHILD + + NURSE. Good morrow, lords. + O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor? + AARON. Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all, + Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now? + NURSE. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone! + Now help, or woe betide thee evermore! + AARON. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep! + What dost thou wrap and fumble in thy arms? + NURSE. O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye: + Our Empress' shame and stately Rome's disgrace! + She is delivered, lord; she is delivered. + AARON. To whom? + NURSE. I mean she is brought a-bed. + AARON. Well, God give her good rest! What hath he sent her? + NURSE. A devil. + AARON. Why, then she is the devil's dam; + A joyful issue. + NURSE. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue! + Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad + Amongst the fair-fac'd breeders of our clime; + The Empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, + And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point. + AARON. Zounds, ye whore! Is black so base a hue? + Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom sure. + DEMETRIUS. Villain, what hast thou done? + AARON. That which thou canst not undo. + CHIRON. Thou hast undone our mother. + AARON. Villain, I have done thy mother. + DEMETRIUS. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone her. + Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice! + Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend! + CHIRON. It shall not live. + AARON. It shall not die. + NURSE. Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so. + AARON. What, must it, nurse? Then let no man but I + Do execution on my flesh and blood. + DEMETRIUS. I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point. + Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dispatch it. + AARON. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up. + [Takes the CHILD from the NURSE, and draws] + Stay, murderous villains, will you kill your brother! + Now, by the burning tapers of the sky + That shone so brightly when this boy was got, + He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point + That touches this my first-born son and heir. + I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus, + With all his threat'ning band of Typhon's brood, + Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war, + Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands. + What, what, ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys! + Ye white-lim'd walls! ye alehouse painted signs! + Coal-black is better than another hue + In that it scorns to bear another hue; + For all the water in the ocean + Can never turn the swan's black legs to white, + Although she lave them hourly in the flood. + Tell the Empress from me I am of age + To keep mine own- excuse it how she can. + DEMETRIUS. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus? + AARON. My mistress is my mistress: this my self, + The vigour and the picture of my youth. + This before all the world do I prefer; + This maugre all the world will I keep safe, + Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. + DEMETRIUS. By this our mother is for ever sham'd. + CHIRON. Rome will despise her for this foul escape. + NURSE. The Emperor in his rage will doom her death. + CHIRON. I blush to think upon this ignomy. + AARON. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears: + Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing + The close enacts and counsels of thy heart! + Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer. + Look how the black slave smiles upon the father, + As who should say 'Old lad, I am thine own.' + He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed + Of that self-blood that first gave life to you; + And from your womb where you imprisoned were + He is enfranchised and come to light. + Nay, he is your brother by the surer side, + Although my seal be stamped in his face. + NURSE. Aaron, what shall I say unto the Empress? + DEMETRIUS. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done, + And we will all subscribe to thy advice. + Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. + AARON. Then sit we down and let us all consult. + My son and I will have the wind of you: + Keep there; now talk at pleasure of your safety. + [They sit] + DEMETRIUS. How many women saw this child of his? + AARON. Why, so, brave lords! When we join in league + I am a lamb; but if you brave the Moor, + The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, + The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms. + But say, again, how many saw the child? + NURSE. Cornelia the midwife and myself; + And no one else but the delivered Empress. + AARON. The Emperess, the midwife, and yourself. + Two may keep counsel when the third's away: + Go to the Empress, tell her this I said. [He kills her] + Weeke weeke! + So cries a pig prepared to the spit. + DEMETRIUS. What mean'st thou, Aaron? Wherefore didst thou this? + AARON. O Lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy. + Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours- + A long-tongu'd babbling gossip? No, lords, no. + And now be it known to you my full intent: + Not far, one Muliteus, my countryman- + His wife but yesternight was brought to bed; + His child is like to her, fair as you are. + Go pack with him, and give the mother gold, + And tell them both the circumstance of all, + And how by this their child shall be advanc'd, + And be received for the Emperor's heir + And substituted in the place of mine, + To calm this tempest whirling in the court; + And let the Emperor dandle him for his own. + Hark ye, lords. You see I have given her physic, + [Pointing to the NURSE] + And you must needs bestow her funeral; + The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms. + This done, see that you take no longer days, + But send the midwife presently to me. + The midwife and the nurse well made away, + Then let the ladies tattle what they please. + CHIRON. Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air + With secrets. + DEMETRIUS. For this care of Tamora, + Herself and hers are highly bound to thee. + + Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, bearing off the dead NURSE + + AARON. Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies, + There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, + And secretly to greet the Empress' friends. + Come on, you thick-lipp'd slave, I'll bear you hence; + For it is you that puts us to our shifts. + I'll make you feed on berries and on roots, + And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, + And cabin in a cave, and bring you up + To be a warrior and command a camp. + Exit with the CHILD + + + + +SCENE III. +Rome. A public place + +Enter TITUS, bearing arrows with letters on the ends of them; +with him MARCUS, YOUNG LUCIUS, and other gentlemen, +PUBLIUS, SEMPRONIUS, and CAIUS, with bows + + TITUS. Come, Marcus, come; kinsmen, this is the way. + Sir boy, let me see your archery; + Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight. + Terras Astrea reliquit, + Be you rememb'red, Marcus; she's gone, she's fled. + Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall + Go sound the ocean and cast your nets; + Happily you may catch her in the sea; + Yet there's as little justice as at land. + No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it; + 'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade, + And pierce the inmost centre of the earth; + Then, when you come to Pluto's region, + I pray you deliver him this petition. + Tell him it is for justice and for aid, + And that it comes from old Andronicus, + Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome. + Ah, Rome! Well, well, I made thee miserable + What time I threw the people's suffrages + On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me. + Go get you gone; and pray be careful all, + And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch'd. + This wicked Emperor may have shipp'd her hence; + And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice. + MARCUS. O Publius, is not this a heavy case, + To see thy noble uncle thus distract? + PUBLIUS. Therefore, my lords, it highly us concerns + By day and night t' attend him carefully, + And feed his humour kindly as we may + Till time beget some careful remedy. + MARCUS. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. + Join with the Goths, and with revengeful war + Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, + And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. + TITUS. Publius, how now? How now, my masters? + What, have you met with her? + PUBLIUS. No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word, + If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall. + Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd, + He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else, + So that perforce you must needs stay a time. + TITUS. He doth me wrong to feed me with delays. + I'll dive into the burning lake below + And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. + Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we, + No big-bon'd men fram'd of the Cyclops' size; + But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back, + Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear; + And, sith there's no justice in earth nor hell, + We will solicit heaven, and move the gods + To send down justice for to wreak our wrongs. + Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus. + [He gives them the arrows] + 'Ad Jovem' that's for you; here 'Ad Apollinem.' + 'Ad Martem' that's for myself. + Here, boy, 'To Pallas'; here 'To Mercury.' + 'To Saturn,' Caius- not to Saturnine: + You were as good to shoot against the wind. + To it, boy. Marcus, loose when I bid. + Of my word, I have written to effect; + There's not a god left unsolicited. + MARCUS. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court; + We will afflict the Emperor in his pride. + TITUS. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot] O, well said, Lucius! + Good boy, in Virgo's lap! Give it Pallas. + MARCUS. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon; + Your letter is with Jupiter by this. + TITUS. Ha! ha! + Publius, Publius, hast thou done? + See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns. + MARCUS. This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot, + The Bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock + That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court; + And who should find them but the Empress' villain? + She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not choose + But give them to his master for a present. + TITUS. Why, there it goes! God give his lordship joy! + + Enter the CLOWN, with a basket and two pigeons in it + + News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come. + Sirrah, what tidings? Have you any letters? + Shall I have justice? What says Jupiter? + CLOWN. Ho, the gibbet-maker? He says that he hath taken them down + again, for the man must not be hang'd till the next week. + TITUS. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? + CLOWN. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all + my life. + TITUS. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? + CLOWN. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. + TITUS. Why, didst thou not come from heaven? + CLOWN. From heaven! Alas, sir, I never came there. God forbid I + should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why, I am + going with my pigeons to the Tribunal Plebs, to take up a matter + of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the Emperal's men. + MARCUS. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your + oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the Emperor from you. + TITUS. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the Emperor with a + grace? + CLOWN. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life. + TITUS. Sirrah, come hither. Make no more ado, + But give your pigeons to the Emperor; + By me thou shalt have justice at his hands. + Hold, hold! Meanwhile here's money for thy charges. + Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver up a + supplication? + CLOWN. Ay, sir. + TITUS. Then here is a supplication for you. And when you come to + him, at the first approach you must kneel; then kiss his foot; + then deliver up your pigeons; and then look for your reward. I'll + be at hand, sir; see you do it bravely. + CLOWN. I warrant you, sir; let me alone. + TITUS. Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come let me see it. + Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration; + For thou hast made it like a humble suppliant. + And when thou hast given it to the Emperor, + Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. + CLOWN. God be with you, sir; I will. + TITUS. Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Rome. Before the palace + +Enter the EMPEROR, and the EMPRESS and her two sons, DEMETRIUS and CHIRON; +LORDS and others. The EMPEROR brings the arrows in his hand that TITUS +shot at him + + SATURNINUS. Why, lords, what wrongs are these! Was ever seen + An emperor in Rome thus overborne, + Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent + Of egal justice, us'd in such contempt? + My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods, + However these disturbers of our peace + Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd + But even with law against the wilful sons + Of old Andronicus. And what an if + His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, + Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, + His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? + And now he writes to heaven for his redress. + See, here's 'To Jove' and this 'To Mercury'; + This 'To Apollo'; this 'To the God of War'- + Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome! + What's this but libelling against the Senate, + And blazoning our unjustice every where? + A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? + As who would say in Rome no justice were. + But if I live, his feigned ecstasies + Shall be no shelter to these outrages; + But he and his shall know that justice lives + In Saturninus' health; whom, if she sleep, + He'll so awake as he in fury shall + Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives. + TAMORA. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, + Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, + Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, + Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant sons + Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep and scarr'd his heart; + And rather comfort his distressed plight + Than prosecute the meanest or the best + For these contempts. [Aside] Why, thus it shall become + High-witted Tamora to gloze with all. + But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick, + Thy life-blood out; if Aaron now be wise, + Then is all safe, the anchor in the port. + + Enter CLOWN + + How now, good fellow! Wouldst thou speak with us? + CLOWN. Yes, forsooth, an your mistriship be Emperial. + TAMORA. Empress I am, but yonder sits the Emperor. + CLOWN. 'Tis he.- God and Saint Stephen give you godden. I have + brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here. + [SATURNINUS reads the letter] + SATURNINUS. Go take him away, and hang him presently. + CLOWN. How much money must I have? + TAMORA. Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd. + CLOWN. Hang'd! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair + end. [Exit guarded] + SATURNINUS. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! + Shall I endure this monstrous villainy? + I know from whence this same device proceeds. + May this be borne- as if his traitorous sons + That died by law for murder of our brother + Have by my means been butchered wrongfully? + Go drag the villain hither by the hair; + Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege. + For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughterman, + Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great, + In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. + + Enter NUNTIUS AEMILIUS + + What news with thee, Aemilius? + AEMILIUS. Arm, my lords! Rome never had more cause. + The Goths have gathered head; and with a power + Of high resolved men, bent to the spoil, + They hither march amain, under conduct + Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; + Who threats in course of this revenge to do + As much as ever Coriolanus did. + SATURNINUS. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? + These tidings nip me, and I hang the head + As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms. + Ay, now begins our sorrows to approach. + 'Tis he the common people love so much; + Myself hath often heard them say- + When I have walked like a private man- + That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully, + And they have wish'd that Lucius were their emperor. + TAMORA. Why should you fear? Is not your city strong? + SATURNINUS. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius, + And will revolt from me to succour him. + TAMORA. King, be thy thoughts imperious like thy name! + Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it? + The eagle suffers little birds to sing, + And is not careful what they mean thereby, + Knowing that with the shadow of his wings + He can at pleasure stint their melody; + Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome. + Then cheer thy spirit; for know thou, Emperor, + I will enchant the old Andronicus + With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, + Than baits to fish or honey-stalks to sheep, + When as the one is wounded with the bait, + The other rotted with delicious feed. + SATURNINUS. But he will not entreat his son for us. + TAMORA. If Tamora entreat him, then he will; + For I can smooth and fill his aged ears + With golden promises, that, were his heart + Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, + Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue. + [To AEMILIUS] Go thou before to be our ambassador; + Say that the Emperor requests a parley + Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting + Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus. + SATURNINUS. Aemilius, do this message honourably; + And if he stand on hostage for his safety, + Bid him demand what pledge will please him best. + AEMILIUS. Your bidding shall I do effectually. Exit + TAMORA. Now will I to that old Andronicus, + And temper him with all the art I have, + To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. + And now, sweet Emperor, be blithe again, + And bury all thy fear in my devices. + SATURNINUS. Then go successantly, and plead to him. + Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Plains near Rome + +Enter LUCIUS with an army of GOTHS with drums and colours + + LUCIUS. Approved warriors and my faithful friends, + I have received letters from great Rome + Which signifies what hate they bear their Emperor + And how desirous of our sight they are. + Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, + Imperious and impatient of your wrongs; + And wherein Rome hath done you any scath, + Let him make treble satisfaction. + FIRST GOTH. Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus, + Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort, + Whose high exploits and honourable deeds + Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt, + Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead'st, + Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day, + Led by their master to the flow'red fields, + And be aveng'd on cursed Tamora. + ALL THE GOTHS. And as he saith, so say we all with him. + LUCIUS. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all. + But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth? + + Enter a GOTH, leading AARON with his CHILD in his arms + + SECOND GOTH. Renowned Lucius, from our troops I stray'd + To gaze upon a ruinous monastery; + And as I earnestly did fix mine eye + Upon the wasted building, suddenly + I heard a child cry underneath a wall. + I made unto the noise, when soon I heard + The crying babe controll'd with this discourse: + 'Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam! + Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art, + Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, + Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor; + But where the bull and cow are both milk-white, + They never do beget a coal-black calf. + Peace, villain, peace!'- even thus he rates the babe- + 'For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth, + Who, when he knows thou art the Empress' babe, + Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.' + With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him, + Surpris'd him suddenly, and brought him hither + To use as you think needful of the man. + LUCIUS. O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil + That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand; + This is the pearl that pleas'd your Empress' eye; + And here's the base fruit of her burning lust. + Say, wall-ey'd slave, whither wouldst thou convey + This growing image of thy fiend-like face? + Why dost not speak? What, deaf? Not a word? + A halter, soldiers! Hang him on this tree, + And by his side his fruit of bastardy. + AARON. Touch not the boy, he is of royal blood. + LUCIUS. Too like the sire for ever being good. + First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl- + A sight to vex the father's soul withal. + Get me a ladder. + [A ladder brought, which AARON is made to climb] + AARON. Lucius, save the child, + And bear it from me to the Emperess. + If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things + That highly may advantage thee to hear; + If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, + I'll speak no more but 'Vengeance rot you all!' + LUCIUS. Say on; an if it please me which thou speak'st, + Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd. + AARON. An if it please thee! Why, assure thee, Lucius, + 'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak; + For I must talk of murders, rapes, and massacres, + Acts of black night, abominable deeds, + Complots of mischief, treason, villainies, + Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd; + And this shall all be buried in my death, + Unless thou swear to me my child shall live. + LUCIUS. Tell on thy mind; I say thy child shall live. + AARON. Swear that he shall, and then I will begin. + LUCIUS. Who should I swear by? Thou believest no god; + That granted, how canst thou believe an oath? + AARON. What if I do not? as indeed I do not; + Yet, for I know thou art religious + And hast a thing within thee called conscience, + With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies + Which I have seen thee careful to observe, + Therefore I urge thy oath. For that I know + An idiot holds his bauble for a god, + And keeps the oath which by that god he swears, + To that I'll urge him. Therefore thou shalt vow + By that same god- what god soe'er it be + That thou adorest and hast in reverence- + To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up; + Or else I will discover nought to thee. + LUCIUS. Even by my god I swear to thee I will. + AARON. First know thou, I begot him on the Empress. + LUCIUS. O most insatiate and luxurious woman! + AARON. Tut, Lucius, this was but a deed of charity + To that which thou shalt hear of me anon. + 'Twas her two sons that murdered Bassianus; + They cut thy sister's tongue, and ravish'd her, + And cut her hands, and trimm'd her as thou sawest. + LUCIUS. O detestable villain! Call'st thou that trimming? + AARON. Why, she was wash'd, and cut, and trimm'd, and 'twas + Trim sport for them which had the doing of it. + LUCIUS. O barbarous beastly villains like thyself! + AARON. Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them. + That codding spirit had they from their mother, + As sure a card as ever won the set; + That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of me, + As true a dog as ever fought at head. + Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. + I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole + Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay; + I wrote the letter that thy father found, + And hid the gold within that letter mention'd, + Confederate with the Queen and her two sons; + And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, + Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? + I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand, + And, when I had it, drew myself apart + And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter. + I pried me through the crevice of a wall, + When, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads; + Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily + That both mine eyes were rainy like to his; + And when I told the Empress of this sport, + She swooned almost at my pleasing tale, + And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses. + GOTH. What, canst thou say all this and never blush? + AARON. Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is. + LUCIUS. Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds? + AARON. Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. + Even now I curse the day- and yet, I think, + Few come within the compass of my curse- + Wherein I did not some notorious ill; + As kill a man, or else devise his death; + Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it; + Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself; + Set deadly enmity between two friends; + Make poor men's cattle break their necks; + Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, + And bid the owners quench them with their tears. + Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, + And set them upright at their dear friends' door + Even when their sorrows almost was forgot, + And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, + Have with my knife carved in Roman letters + 'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.' + Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things + As willingly as one would kill a fly; + And nothing grieves me heartily indeed + But that I cannot do ten thousand more. + LUCIUS. Bring down the devil, for he must not die + So sweet a death as hanging presently. + AARON. If there be devils, would I were a devil, + To live and burn in everlasting fire, + So I might have your company in hell + But to torment you with my bitter tongue! + LUCIUS. Sirs, stop his mouth, and let him speak no more. + + Enter AEMILIUS + + GOTH. My lord, there is a messenger from Rome + Desires to be admitted to your presence. + LUCIUS. Let him come near. + Welcome, Aemilius. What's the news from Rome? + AEMILIUS. Lord Lucius, and you Princes of the Goths, + The Roman Emperor greets you all by me; + And, for he understands you are in arms, + He craves a parley at your father's house, + Willing you to demand your hostages, + And they shall be immediately deliver'd. + FIRST GOTH. What says our general? + LUCIUS. Aemilius, let the Emperor give his pledges + Unto my father and my uncle Marcus. + And we will come. March away. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Rome. Before TITUS' house + +Enter TAMORA, and her two sons, DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, disguised + + TAMORA. Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, + I will encounter with Andronicus, + And say I am Revenge, sent from below + To join with him and right his heinous wrongs. + Knock at his study, where they say he keeps + To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge; + Tell him Revenge is come to join with him, + And work confusion on his enemies. + + They knock and TITUS opens his study door, above + + TITUS. Who doth molest my contemplation? + Is it your trick to make me ope the door, + That so my sad decrees may fly away + And all my study be to no effect? + You are deceiv'd; for what I mean to do + See here in bloody lines I have set down; + And what is written shall be executed. + TAMORA. Titus, I am come to talk with thee. + TITUS. No, not a word. How can I grace my talk, + Wanting a hand to give it that accord? + Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more. + TAMORA. If thou didst know me, thou wouldst talk with me. + TITUS. I am not mad, I know thee well enough: + Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines; + Witness these trenches made by grief and care; + Witness the tiring day and heavy night; + Witness all sorrow that I know thee well + For our proud Empress, mighty Tamora. + Is not thy coming for my other hand? + TAMORA. Know thou, sad man, I am not Tamora: + She is thy enemy and I thy friend. + I am Revenge, sent from th' infernal kingdom + To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind + By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. + Come down and welcome me to this world's light; + Confer with me of murder and of death; + There's not a hollow cave or lurking-place, + No vast obscurity or misty vale, + Where bloody murder or detested rape + Can couch for fear but I will find them out; + And in their ears tell them my dreadful name- + Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake. + TITUS. Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me + To be a torment to mine enemies? + TAMORA. I am; therefore come down and welcome me. + TITUS. Do me some service ere I come to thee. + Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands; + Now give some surance that thou art Revenge- + Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels; + And then I'll come and be thy waggoner + And whirl along with thee about the globes. + Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet, + To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, + And find out murderers in their guilty caves; + And when thy car is loaden with their heads, + I will dismount, and by thy waggon wheel + Trot, like a servile footman, all day long, + Even from Hyperion's rising in the east + Until his very downfall in the sea. + And day by day I'll do this heavy task, + So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there. + TAMORA. These are my ministers, and come with me. + TITUS. Are they thy ministers? What are they call'd? + TAMORA. Rape and Murder; therefore called so + 'Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men. + TITUS. Good Lord, how like the Empress' sons they are! + And you the Empress! But we worldly men + Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. + O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee; + And, if one arm's embracement will content thee, + I will embrace thee in it by and by. + TAMORA. This closing with him fits his lunacy. + Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick humours, + Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches, + For now he firmly takes me for Revenge; + And, being credulous in this mad thought, + I'll make him send for Lucius his son, + And whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, + I'll find some cunning practice out of hand + To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, + Or, at the least, make them his enemies. + See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. + + Enter TITUS, below + + TITUS. Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee. + Welcome, dread Fury, to my woeful house. + Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too. + How like the Empress and her sons you are! + Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor. + Could not all hell afford you such a devil? + For well I wot the Empress never wags + But in her company there is a Moor; + And, would you represent our queen aright, + It were convenient you had such a devil. + But welcome as you are. What shall we do? + TAMORA. What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus? + DEMETRIUS. Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him. + CHIRON. Show me a villain that hath done a rape, + And I am sent to be reveng'd on him. + TAMORA. Show me a thousand that hath done thee wrong, + And I will be revenged on them all. + TITUS. Look round about the wicked streets of Rome, + And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself, + Good Murder, stab him; he's a murderer. + Go thou with him, and when it is thy hap + To find another that is like to thee, + Good Rapine, stab him; he is a ravisher. + Go thou with them; and in the Emperor's court + There is a queen, attended by a Moor; + Well shalt thou know her by thine own proportion, + For up and down she doth resemble thee. + I pray thee, do on them some violent death; + They have been violent to me and mine. + TAMORA. Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall we do. + But would it please thee, good Andronicus, + To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son, + Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, + And bid him come and banquet at thy house; + When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, + I will bring in the Empress and her sons, + The Emperor himself, and all thy foes; + And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel, + And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. + What says Andronicus to this device? + TITUS. Marcus, my brother! 'Tis sad Titus calls. + + Enter MARCUS + + Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius; + Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths. + Bid him repair to me, and bring with him + Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths; + Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are. + Tell him the Emperor and the Empress too + Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them. + This do thou for my love; and so let him, + As he regards his aged father's life. + MARCUS. This will I do, and soon return again. Exit + TAMORA. Now will I hence about thy business, + And take my ministers along with me. + TITUS. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me, + Or else I'll call my brother back again, + And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. + TAMORA. [Aside to her sons] What say you, boys? Will you abide + with him, + Whiles I go tell my lord the Emperor + How I have govern'd our determin'd jest? + Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair, + And tarry with him till I turn again. + TITUS. [Aside] I knew them all, though they suppos'd me mad, + And will o'er reach them in their own devices, + A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam. + DEMETRIUS. Madam, depart at pleasure; leave us here. + TAMORA. Farewell, Andronicus, Revenge now goes + To lay a complot to betray thy foes. + TITUS. I know thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, farewell. + Exit TAMORA + CHIRON. Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd? + TITUS. Tut, I have work enough for you to do. + Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine. + + Enter PUBLIUS, CAIUS, and VALENTINE + + PUBLIUS. What is your will? + TITUS. Know you these two? + PUBLIUS. The Empress' sons, I take them: Chiron, Demetrius. + TITUS. Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much deceiv'd. + The one is Murder, and Rape is the other's name; + And therefore bind them, gentle Publius- + Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them. + Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour, + And now I find it; therefore bind them sure, + And stop their mouths if they begin to cry. Exit + [They lay hold on CHIRON and DEMETRIUS] + CHIRON. Villains, forbear! we are the Empress' sons. + PUBLIUS. And therefore do we what we are commanded. + Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word. + Is he sure bound? Look that you bind them fast. + + Re-enter TITUS ANDRONICUS + with a knife, and LAVINIA, with a basin + + TITUS. Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound. + Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me; + But let them hear what fearful words I utter. + O villains, Chiron and Demetrius! + Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud; + This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. + You kill'd her husband; and for that vile fault + Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death, + My hand cut off and made a merry jest; + Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear + Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, + Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forc'd. + What would you say, if I should let you speak? + Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace. + Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you. + This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, + Whiles that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold + The basin that receives your guilty blood. + You know your mother means to feast with me, + And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad. + Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust, + And with your blood and it I'll make a paste; + And of the paste a coffin I will rear, + And make two pasties of your shameful heads; + And bid that strumpet, your unhallowed dam, + Like to the earth, swallow her own increase. + This is the feast that I have bid her to, + And this the banquet she shall surfeit on; + For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter, + And worse than Progne I will be reveng'd. + And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, come, + Receive the blood; and when that they are dead, + Let me go grind their bones to powder small, + And with this hateful liquor temper it; + And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd. + Come, come, be every one officious + To make this banquet, which I wish may prove + More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast. + [He cuts their throats] + So. + Now bring them in, for I will play the cook, + And see them ready against their mother comes. + Exeunt, bearing the dead bodies + + + + +SCENE III. +The court of TITUS' house + +Enter Lucius, MARCUS, and the GOTHS, with AARON prisoner, +and his CHILD in the arms of an attendant + + LUCIUS. Uncle Marcus, since 'tis my father's mind + That I repair to Rome, I am content. + FIRST GOTH. And ours with thine, befall what fortune will. + LUCIUS. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, + This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil; + Let him receive no sust'nance, fetter him, + Till he be brought unto the Empress' face + For testimony of her foul proceedings. + And see the ambush of our friends be strong; + I fear the Emperor means no good to us. + AARON. Some devil whisper curses in my ear, + And prompt me that my tongue may utter forth + The venomous malice of my swelling heart! + LUCIUS. Away, inhuman dog, unhallowed slave! + Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. + Exeunt GOTHS with AARON. Flourish within + The trumpets show the Emperor is at hand. + + Sound trumpets. Enter SATURNINUS and + TAMORA, with AEMILIUS, TRIBUNES, SENATORS, and others + + SATURNINUS. What, hath the firmament more suns than one? + LUCIUS. What boots it thee to can thyself a sun? + MARCUS. Rome's Emperor, and nephew, break the parle; + These quarrels must be quietly debated. + The feast is ready which the careful Titus + Hath ordain'd to an honourable end, + For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome. + Please you, therefore, draw nigh and take your places. + SATURNINUS. Marcus, we will. + [A table brought in. The company sit down] + + Trumpets sounding, enter TITUS + like a cook, placing the dishes, and LAVINIA + with a veil over her face; also YOUNG LUCIUS, and others + + TITUS. Welcome, my lord; welcome, dread Queen; + Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius; + And welcome all. Although the cheer be poor, + 'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it. + SATURNINUS. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus? + TITUS. Because I would be sure to have all well + To entertain your Highness and your Empress. + TAMORA. We are beholding to you, good Andronicus. + TITUS. An if your Highness knew my heart, you were. + My lord the Emperor, resolve me this: + Was it well done of rash Virginius + To slay his daughter with his own right hand, + Because she was enforc'd, stain'd, and deflower'd? + SATURNINUS. It was, Andronicus. + TITUS. Your reason, mighty lord. + SATURNINUS. Because the girl should not survive her shame, + And by her presence still renew his sorrows. + TITUS. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual; + A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant + For me, most wretched, to perform the like. + Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee; [He kills her] + And with thy shame thy father's sorrow die! + SATURNINUS. What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind? + TITUS. Kill'd her for whom my tears have made me blind. + I am as woeful as Virginius was, + And have a thousand times more cause than he + To do this outrage; and it now is done. + SATURNINUS. What, was she ravish'd? Tell who did the deed. + TITUS. Will't please you eat? Will't please your Highness feed? + TAMORA. Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus? + TITUS. Not I; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius. + They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue; + And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong. + SATURNINUS. Go, fetch them hither to us presently. + TITUS. Why, there they are, both baked in this pie, + Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, + Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. + 'Tis true, 'tis true: witness my knife's sharp point. + [He stabs the EMPRESS] + SATURNINUS. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed! + [He stabs TITUS] + LUCIUS. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed? + There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed. + [He stabs SATURNINUS. A great tumult. LUCIUS, + MARCUS, and their friends go up into the balcony] + MARCUS. You sad-fac'd men, people and sons of Rome, + By uproars sever'd, as a flight of fowl + Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts? + O, let me teach you how to knit again + This scattered corn into one mutual sheaf, + These broken limbs again into one body; + Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself, + And she whom mighty kingdoms curtsy to, + Like a forlorn and desperate castaway, + Do shameful execution on herself. + But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, + Grave witnesses of true experience, + Cannot induce you to attend my words, + [To Lucius] Speak, Rome's dear friend, as erst our ancestor, + When with his solemn tongue he did discourse + To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear + The story of that baleful burning night, + When subtle Greeks surpris'd King Priam's Troy. + Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears, + Or who hath brought the fatal engine in + That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound. + My heart is not compact of flint nor steel; + Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, + But floods of tears will drown my oratory + And break my utt'rance, even in the time + When it should move ye to attend me most, + And force you to commiseration. + Here's Rome's young Captain, let him tell the tale; + While I stand by and weep to hear him speak. + LUCIUS. Then, gracious auditory, be it known to you + That Chiron and the damn'd Demetrius + Were they that murd'red our Emperor's brother; + And they it were that ravished our sister. + For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded, + Our father's tears despis'd, and basely cozen'd + Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out + And sent her enemies unto the grave. + Lastly, myself unkindly banished, + The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out, + To beg relief among Rome's enemies; + Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears, + And op'd their arms to embrace me as a friend. + I am the turned forth, be it known to you, + That have preserv'd her welfare in my blood + And from her bosom took the enemy's point, + Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous body. + Alas! you know I am no vaunter, I; + My scars can witness, dumb although they are, + That my report is just and full of truth. + But, soft! methinks I do digress too much, + Citing my worthless praise. O, pardon me! + For when no friends are by, men praise themselves. + MARCUS. Now is my turn to speak. Behold the child. + [Pointing to the CHILD in an attendant's arms] + Of this was Tamora delivered, + The issue of an irreligious Moor, + Chief architect and plotter of these woes. + The villain is alive in Titus' house, + Damn'd as he is, to witness this is true. + Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge + These wrongs unspeakable, past patience, + Or more than any living man could bear. + Now have you heard the truth: what say you, Romans? + Have we done aught amiss, show us wherein, + And, from the place where you behold us pleading, + The poor remainder of Andronici + Will, hand in hand, all headlong hurl ourselves, + And on the ragged stones beat forth our souls, + And make a mutual closure of our house. + Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall, + Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall. + AEMILIUS. Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome, + And bring our Emperor gently in thy hand, + Lucius our Emperor; for well I know + The common voice do cry it shall be so. + ALL. Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal Emperor! + MARCUS. Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house, + And hither hale that misbelieving Moor + To be adjudg'd some direful slaught'ring death, + As punishment for his most wicked life. Exeunt some + attendants. LUCIUS, MARCUS, and the others descend + ALL. Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious governor! + LUCIUS. Thanks, gentle Romans! May I govern so + To heal Rome's harms and wipe away her woe! + But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, + For nature puts me to a heavy task. + Stand all aloof; but, uncle, draw you near + To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk. + O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips. [Kisses TITUS] + These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face, + The last true duties of thy noble son! + MARCUS. Tear for tear and loving kiss for kiss + Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips. + O, were the sum of these that I should pay + Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them! + LUCIUS. Come hither, boy; come, come, come, and learn of us + To melt in showers. Thy grandsire lov'd thee well; + Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee, + Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow; + Many a story hath he told to thee, + And bid thee bear his pretty tales in mind + And talk of them when he was dead and gone. + MARCUS. How many thousand times hath these poor lips, + When they were living, warm'd themselves on thine! + O, now, sweet boy, give them their latest kiss! + Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave; + Do them that kindness, and take leave of them. + BOY. O grandsire, grandsire! ev'n with all my heart + Would I were dead, so you did live again! + O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping; + My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth. + + Re-enter attendants with AARON + + A ROMAN. You sad Andronici, have done with woes; + Give sentence on the execrable wretch + That hath been breeder of these dire events. + LUCIUS. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him; + There let him stand and rave and cry for food. + If any one relieves or pities him, + For the offence he dies. This is our doom. + Some stay to see him fast'ned in the earth. + AARON. Ah, why should wrath be mute and fury dumb? + I am no baby, I, that with base prayers + I should repent the evils I have done; + Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did + Would I perform, if I might have my will. + If one good deed in all my life I did, + I do repent it from my very soul. + LUCIUS. Some loving friends convey the Emperor hence, + And give him burial in his father's grave. + My father and Lavinia shall forthwith + Be closed in our household's monument. + As for that ravenous tiger, Tamora, + No funeral rite, nor man in mourning weed, + No mournful bell shall ring her burial; + But throw her forth to beasts and birds to prey. + Her life was beastly and devoid of pity, + And being dead, let birds on her take pity. Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1602 + +THE HISTORY OF TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + +by William Shakespeare + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + PRIAM, King of Troy + + His sons: + HECTOR + TROILUS + PARIS + DEIPHOBUS + HELENUS + + MARGARELON, a bastard son of Priam + + Trojan commanders: + AENEAS + ANTENOR + + CALCHAS, a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks + PANDARUS, uncle to Cressida + AGAMEMNON, the Greek general + MENELAUS, his brother + + Greek commanders: + ACHILLES + AJAX + ULYSSES + NESTOR + DIOMEDES + PATROCLUS + + THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Greek + ALEXANDER, servant to Cressida + SERVANT to Troilus + SERVANT to Paris + SERVANT to Diomedes + + HELEN, wife to Menelaus + ANDROMACHE, wife to Hector + CASSANDRA, daughter to Priam, a prophetess + CRESSIDA, daughter to Calchas + + Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants + + SCENE: + Troy and the Greek camp before it + +PROLOGUE + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + PROLOGUE + + In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece + The princes orgillous, their high blood chaf'd, + Have to the port of Athens sent their ships + Fraught with the ministers and instruments + Of cruel war. Sixty and nine that wore + Their crownets regal from th' Athenian bay + Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made + To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures + The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen, + With wanton Paris sleeps-and that's the quarrel. + To Tenedos they come, + And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge + Their war-like fraughtage. Now on Dardan plains + The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch + Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city, + Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien, + And Antenorides, with massy staples + And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts, + Sperr up the sons of Troy. + Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits + On one and other side, Troyan and Greek, + Sets all on hazard-and hither am I come + A Prologue arm'd, but not in confidence + Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited + In like conditions as our argument, + To tell you, fair beholders, that our play + Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils, + Beginning in the middle; starting thence away, + To what may be digested in a play. + Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are; + Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. + + + + +<> + + + +ACT I. SCENE 1. +Troy. Before PRIAM'S palace + +Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS + + TROILUS. Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again. + Why should I war without the walls of Troy + That find such cruel battle here within? + Each Troyan that is master of his heart, + Let him to field; Troilus, alas, hath none! + PANDARUS. Will this gear ne'er be mended? + TROILUS. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, + Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; + But I am weaker than a woman's tear, + Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance, + Less valiant than the virgin in the night, + And skilless as unpractis'd infancy. + PANDARUS. Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part, + I'll not meddle nor make no farther. He that will have a cake + out of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding. + TROILUS. Have I not tarried? + PANDARUS. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting. + TROILUS. Have I not tarried? + PANDARUS. Ay, the bolting; but you must tarry the leavening. + TROILUS. Still have I tarried. + PANDARUS. Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word + 'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating + of the oven, and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, + or you may chance to burn your lips. + TROILUS. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, + Doth lesser blench at suff'rance than I do. + At Priam's royal table do I sit; + And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts- + So, traitor, then she comes when she is thence. + PANDARUS. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than ever I saw her + look, or any woman else. + TROILUS. I was about to tell thee: when my heart, + As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain, + Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, + I have, as when the sun doth light a storm, + Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile. + But sorrow that is couch'd in seeming gladness + Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. + PANDARUS. An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's- well, + go to- there were no more comparison between the women. But, for + my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, + praise her, but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as + I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit; but- + TROILUS. O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus- + When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drown'd, + Reply not in how many fathoms deep + They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad + In Cressid's love. Thou answer'st 'She is fair'- + Pourest in the open ulcer of my heart- + Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, + Handlest in thy discourse. O, that her hand, + In whose comparison all whites are ink + Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure + The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense + Hard as the palm of ploughman! This thou tell'st me, + As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her; + But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, + Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me + The knife that made it. + PANDARUS. I speak no more than truth. + TROILUS. Thou dost not speak so much. + PANDARUS. Faith, I'll not meddle in it. Let her be as she is: if + she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the + mends in her own hands. + TROILUS. Good Pandarus! How now, Pandarus! + PANDARUS. I have had my labour for my travail, ill thought on of + her and ill thought on of you; gone between and between, but + small thanks for my labour. + TROILUS. What, art thou angry, Pandarus? What, with me? + PANDARUS. Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as + Helen. An she were not kin to me, she would be as fair a Friday + as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were a + blackamoor; 'tis all one to me. + TROILUS. Say I she is not fair? + PANDARUS. I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay + behind her father. Let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her + the next time I see her. For my part, I'll meddle nor make no + more i' th' matter. + TROILUS. Pandarus! + PANDARUS. Not I. + TROILUS. Sweet Pandarus! + PANDARUS. Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all + as I found it, and there an end. Exit. Sound alarum + TROILUS. Peace, you ungracious clamours! Peace, rude sounds! + Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, + When with your blood you daily paint her thus. + I cannot fight upon this argument; + It is too starv'd a subject for my sword. + But Pandarus-O gods, how do you plague me! + I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar; + And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo + As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. + Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, + What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? + Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl; + Between our Ilium and where she resides + Let it be call'd the wild and wand'ring flood; + Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar + Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark. + + Alarum. Enter AENEAS + + AENEAS. How now, Prince Troilus! Wherefore not afield? + TROILUS. Because not there. This woman's answer sorts, + For womanish it is to be from thence. + What news, Aeneas, from the field to-day? + AENEAS. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. + TROILUS. By whom, Aeneas? + AENEAS. Troilus, by Menelaus. + TROILUS. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn; + Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum] + AENEAS. Hark what good sport is out of town to-day! + TROILUS. Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.' + But to the sport abroad. Are you bound thither? + AENEAS. In all swift haste. + TROILUS. Come, go we then together. Exeunt + + + + +ACT I. SCENE 2. +Troy. A street + +Enter CRESSIDA and her man ALEXANDER + + CRESSIDA. Who were those went by? + ALEXANDER. Queen Hecuba and Helen. + CRESSIDA. And whither go they? + ALEXANDER. Up to the eastern tower, + Whose height commands as subject all the vale, + To see the battle. Hector, whose patience + Is as a virtue fix'd, to-day was mov'd. + He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer; + And, like as there were husbandry in war, + Before the sun rose he was harness'd light, + And to the field goes he; where every flower + Did as a prophet weep what it foresaw + In Hector's wrath. + CRESSIDA. What was his cause of anger? + ALEXANDER. The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks + A lord of Troyan blood, nephew to Hector; + They call him Ajax. + CRESSIDA. Good; and what of him? + ALEXANDER. They say he is a very man per se, + And stands alone. + CRESSIDA. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no + legs. + ALEXANDER. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts of their + particular additions: he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as the + bear, slow as the elephant-a man into whom nature hath so crowded + humours that his valour is crush'd into folly, his folly sauced + with discretion. There is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a + glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of + it; he is melancholy without cause and merry against the hair; he + hath the joints of every thing; but everything so out of joint + that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use, or purblind + Argus, all eyes and no sight. + CRESSIDA. But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector + angry? + ALEXANDER. They say he yesterday cop'd Hector in the battle and + struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since + kept Hector fasting and waking. + + Enter PANDARUS + + CRESSIDA. Who comes here? + ALEXANDER. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. + CRESSIDA. Hector's a gallant man. + ALEXANDER. As may be in the world, lady. + PANDARUS. What's that? What's that? + CRESSIDA. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. + PANDARUS. Good morrow, cousin Cressid. What do you talk of?- Good + morrow, Alexander.-How do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium? + CRESSIDA. This morning, uncle. + PANDARUS. What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector arm'd + and gone ere you came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she? + CRESSIDA. Hector was gone; but Helen was not up. + PANDARUS. E'en so. Hector was stirring early. + CRESSIDA. That were we talking of, and of his anger. + PANDARUS. Was he angry? + CRESSIDA. So he says here. + PANDARUS. True, he was so; I know the cause too; he'll lay about + him today, I can tell them that. And there's Troilus will not + come far behind him; let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell + them that too. + CRESSIDA. What, is he angry too? + PANDARUS. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two. + CRESSIDA. O Jupiter! there's no comparison. + PANDARUS. What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man + if you see him? + CRESSIDA. Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him. + PANDARUS. Well, I say Troilus is Troilus. + CRESSIDA. Then you say as I say, for I am sure he is not Hector. + PANDARUS. No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees. + CRESSIDA. 'Tis just to each of them: he is himself. + PANDARUS. Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were! + CRESSIDA. So he is. + PANDARUS. Condition I had gone barefoot to India. + CRESSIDA. He is not Hector. + PANDARUS. Himself! no, he's not himself. Would 'a were himself! + Well, the gods are above; time must friend or end. Well, Troilus, + well! I would my heart were in her body! No, Hector is not a + better man than Troilus. + CRESSIDA. Excuse me. + PANDARUS. He is elder. + CRESSIDA. Pardon me, pardon me. + PANDARUS. Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me another tale + when th' other's come to't. Hector shall not have his wit this + year. + CRESSIDA. He shall not need it if he have his own. + PANDARUS. Nor his qualities. + CRESSIDA. No matter. + PANDARUS. Nor his beauty. + CRESSIDA. 'Twould not become him: his own's better. + PANDARUS. YOU have no judgment, niece. Helen herself swore th' + other day that Troilus, for a brown favour, for so 'tis, I must + confess- not brown neither- + CRESSIDA. No, but brown. + PANDARUS. Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. + CRESSIDA. To say the truth, true and not true. + PANDARUS. She prais'd his complexion above Paris. + CRESSIDA. Why, Paris hath colour enough. + PANDARUS. So he has. + CRESSIDA. Then Troilus should have too much. If she prais'd him + above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour + enough, and the other higher, is too flaming praise for a good + complexion. I had as lief Helen's golden tongue had commended + Troilus for a copper nose. + PANDARUS. I swear to you I think Helen loves him better than Paris. + CRESSIDA. Then she's a merry Greek indeed. + PANDARUS. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other day + into the compass'd window-and you know he has not past three or + four hairs on his chin- + CRESSIDA. Indeed a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his + particulars therein to a total. + PANDARUS. Why, he is very young, and yet will he within three pound + lift as much as his brother Hector. + CRESSIDA. Is he so young a man and so old a lifter? + PANDARUS. But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came and + puts me her white hand to his cloven chin- + CRESSIDA. Juno have mercy! How came it cloven? + PANDARUS. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled. I think his smiling becomes + him better than any man in all Phrygia. + CRESSIDA. O, he smiles valiantly! + PANDARUS. Does he not? + CRESSIDA. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn! + PANDARUS. Why, go to, then! But to prove to you that Helen loves + Troilus- + CRESSIDA. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so. + PANDARUS. Troilus! Why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an + addle egg. + CRESSIDA. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle + head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell. + PANDARUS. I cannot choose but laugh to think how she tickled his + chin. Indeed, she has a marvell's white hand, I must needs + confess. + CRESSIDA. Without the rack. + PANDARUS. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin. + CRESSIDA. Alas, poor chin! Many a wart is richer. + PANDARUS. But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laugh'd that + her eyes ran o'er. + CRESSIDA. With millstones. + PANDARUS. And Cassandra laugh'd. + CRESSIDA. But there was a more temperate fire under the pot of her + eyes. Did her eyes run o'er too? + PANDARUS. And Hector laugh'd. + CRESSIDA. At what was all this laughing? + PANDARUS. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' + chin. + CRESSIDA. An't had been a green hair I should have laugh'd too. + PANDARUS. They laugh'd not so much at the hair as at his pretty + answer. + CRESSIDA. What was his answer? + PANDARUS. Quoth she 'Here's but two and fifty hairs on your chin, + and one of them is white.' + CRESSIDA. This is her question. + PANDARUS. That's true; make no question of that. 'Two and fifty + hairs,' quoth he 'and one white. That white hair is my father, + and all the rest are his sons.' 'Jupiter!' quoth she 'which of + these hairs is Paris my husband?' 'The forked one,' quoth he, + 'pluck't out and give it him.' But there was such laughing! and + Helen so blush'd, and Paris so chaf'd; and all the rest so + laugh'd that it pass'd. + CRESSIDA. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by. + PANDARUS. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday; think on't. + CRESSIDA. So I do. + PANDARUS. I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, and 'twere a + man born in April. + CRESSIDA. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle + against May. [Sound a retreat] + PANDARUS. Hark! they are coming from the field. Shall we stand up + here and see them as they pass toward Ilium? Good niece, do, + sweet niece Cressida. + CRESSIDA. At your pleasure. + PANDARUS. Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may see + most bravely. I'll tell you them all by their names as they pass + by; but mark Troilus above the rest. + + AENEAS passes + + CRESSIDA. Speak not so loud. + PANDARUS. That's Aeneas. Is not that a brave man? He's one of the + flowers of Troy, I can tell you. But mark Troilus; you shall see + anon. + + ANTENOR passes + + CRESSIDA. Who's that? + PANDARUS. That's Antenor. He has a shrewd wit, I can tell you; and + he's a man good enough; he's one o' th' soundest judgments in + Troy, whosoever, and a proper man of person. When comes Troilus? + I'll show you Troilus anon. If he see me, you shall see him nod + at me. + CRESSIDA. Will he give you the nod? + PANDARUS. You shall see. + CRESSIDA. If he do, the rich shall have more. + + HECTOR passes + + PANDARUS. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's a + fellow! Go thy way, Hector! There's a brave man, niece. O brave + Hector! Look how he looks. There's a countenance! Is't not a + brave man? + CRESSIDA. O, a brave man! + PANDARUS. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart good. Look you what + hacks are on his helmet! Look you yonder, do you see? Look you + there. There's no jesting; there's laying on; take't off who + will, as they say. There be hacks. + CRESSIDA. Be those with swords? + PANDARUS. Swords! anything, he cares not; an the devil come to him, + it's all one. By God's lid, it does one's heart good. Yonder + comes Paris, yonder comes Paris. + + PARIS passes + + Look ye yonder, niece; is't not a gallant man too, is't not? Why, + this is brave now. Who said he came hurt home to-day? He's not + hurt. Why, this will do Helen's heart good now, ha! Would I could + see Troilus now! You shall see Troilus anon. + + HELENUS passes + + CRESSIDA. Who's that? + PANDARUS. That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That's + Helenus. I think he went not forth to-day. That's Helenus. + CRESSIDA. Can Helenus fight, uncle? + PANDARUS. Helenus! no. Yes, he'll fight indifferent well. I marvel + where Troilus is. Hark! do you not hear the people cry 'Troilus'? + Helenus is a priest. + CRESSIDA. What sneaking fellow comes yonder? + + TROILUS passes + + PANDARUS. Where? yonder? That's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus. There's a + man, niece. Hem! Brave Troilus, the prince of chivalry! + CRESSIDA. Peace, for shame, peace! + PANDARUS. Mark him; note him. O brave Troilus! Look well upon him, + niece; look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more + hack'd than Hector's; and how he looks, and how he goes! O + admirable youth! he never saw three and twenty. Go thy way, + Troilus, go thy way. Had I a sister were a grace or a daughter a + goddess, he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris? Paris + is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an + eye to boot. + CRESSIDA. Here comes more. + + Common soldiers pass + + PANDARUS. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! + porridge after meat! I could live and die in the eyes of Troilus. + Ne'er look, ne'er look; the eagles are gone. Crows and daws, + crows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus than + Agamemnon and all Greece. + CRESSIDA. There is amongst the Greeks Achilles, a better man than + Troilus. + PANDARUS. Achilles? A drayman, a porter, a very camel! + CRESSIDA. Well, well. + PANDARUS. Well, well! Why, have you any discretion? Have you any + eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good + shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, + liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man? + CRESSIDA. Ay, a minc'd man; and then to be bak'd with no date in + the pie, for then the man's date is out. + PANDARUS. You are such a woman! A man knows not at what ward you + lie. + CRESSIDA. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend + my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to + defend my beauty; and you, to defend all these; and at all these + wards I lie at, at a thousand watches. + PANDARUS. Say one of your watches. + CRESSIDA. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the + chiefest of them too. If I cannot ward what I would not have hit, + I can watch you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell + past hiding, and then it's past watching + PANDARUS. You are such another! + + Enter TROILUS' BOY + + BOY. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. + PANDARUS. Where? + BOY. At your own house; there he unarms him. + PANDARUS. Good boy, tell him I come. Exit Boy + I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece. + CRESSIDA. Adieu, uncle. + PANDARUS. I will be with you, niece, by and by. + CRESSIDA. To bring, uncle. + PANDARUS. Ay, a token from Troilus. + CRESSIDA. By the same token, you are a bawd. + Exit PANDARUS + Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, + He offers in another's enterprise; + But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see + Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be, + Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing: + Things won are done; joy's soul lies in the doing. + That she belov'd knows nought that knows not this: + Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is. + That she was never yet that ever knew + Love got so sweet as when desire did sue; + Therefore this maxim out of love I teach: + Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech. + Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear, + Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. Exit + + + + +ACT I. SCENE 3. +The Grecian camp. Before AGAMEMNON'S tent + +Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, MENELAUS, and others + + AGAMEMNON. Princes, + What grief hath set these jaundies o'er your cheeks? + The ample proposition that hope makes + In all designs begun on earth below + Fails in the promis'd largeness; checks and disasters + Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd, + As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, + Infects the sound pine, and diverts his grain + Tortive and errant from his course of growth. + Nor, princes, is it matter new to us + That we come short of our suppose so far + That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand; + Sith every action that hath gone before, + Whereof we have record, trial did draw + Bias and thwart, not answering the aim, + And that unbodied figure of the thought + That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes, + Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works + And call them shames, which are, indeed, nought else + But the protractive trials of great Jove + To find persistive constancy in men; + The fineness of which metal is not found + In fortune's love? For then the bold and coward, + The wise and fool, the artist and unread, + The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin. + But in the wind and tempest of her frown + Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, + Puffing at all, winnows the light away; + And what hath mass or matter by itself + Lies rich in virtue and unmingled. + NESTOR. With due observance of thy godlike seat, + Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply + Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance + Lies the true proof of men. The sea being smooth, + How many shallow bauble boats dare sail + Upon her patient breast, making their way + With those of nobler bulk! + But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage + The gentle Thetis, and anon behold + The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut, + Bounding between the two moist elements + Like Perseus' horse. Where's then the saucy boat, + Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now + Co-rivall'd greatness? Either to harbour fled + Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so + Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide + In storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightness + The herd hath more annoyance by the breeze + Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind + Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, + And flies fled under shade-why, then the thing of courage + As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathise, + And with an accent tun'd in self-same key + Retorts to chiding fortune. + ULYSSES. Agamemnon, + Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, + Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit + In whom the tempers and the minds of all + Should be shut up-hear what Ulysses speaks. + Besides the applause and approbation + The which, [To AGAMEMNON] most mighty, for thy place and sway, + [To NESTOR] And, thou most reverend, for thy stretch'd-out life, + I give to both your speeches- which were such + As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece + Should hold up high in brass; and such again + As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver, + Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree + On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears + To his experienc'd tongue-yet let it please both, + Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak. + AGAMEMNON. Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expect + That matter needless, of importless burden, + Divide thy lips than we are confident, + When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws, + We shall hear music, wit, and oracle. + ULYSSES. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, + And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, + But for these instances: + The specialty of rule hath been neglected; + And look how many Grecian tents do stand + Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions. + When that the general is not like the hive, + To whom the foragers shall all repair, + What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded, + Th' unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. + The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre, + Observe degree, priority, and place, + Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, + Office, and custom, in all line of order; + And therefore is the glorious planet Sol + In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd + Amidst the other, whose med'cinable eye + Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, + And posts, like the commandment of a king, + Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets + In evil mixture to disorder wander, + What plagues and what portents, what mutiny, + What raging of the sea, shaking of earth, + Commotion in the winds! Frights, changes, horrors, + Divert and crack, rend and deracinate, + The unity and married calm of states + Quite from their fixture! O, when degree is shak'd, + Which is the ladder of all high designs, + The enterprise is sick! How could communities, + Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities, + Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, + The primogenity and due of birth, + Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels, + But by degree, stand in authentic place? + Take but degree away, untune that string, + And hark what discord follows! Each thing melts + In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters + Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, + And make a sop of all this solid globe; + Strength should be lord of imbecility, + And the rude son should strike his father dead; + Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong- + Between whose endless jar justice resides- + Should lose their names, and so should justice too. + Then everything includes itself in power, + Power into will, will into appetite; + And appetite, an universal wolf, + So doubly seconded with will and power, + Must make perforce an universal prey, + And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, + This chaos, when degree is suffocate, + Follows the choking. + And this neglection of degree it is + That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose + It hath to climb. The general's disdain'd + By him one step below, he by the next, + That next by him beneath; so ever step, + Exampl'd by the first pace that is sick + Of his superior, grows to an envious fever + Of pale and bloodless emulation. + And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, + Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length, + Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength. + NESTOR. Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd + The fever whereof all our power is sick. + AGAMEMNON. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, + What is the remedy? + ULYSSES. The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns + The sinew and the forehand of our host, + Having his ear full of his airy fame, + Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent + Lies mocking our designs; with him Patroclus + Upon a lazy bed the livelong day + Breaks scurril jests; + And with ridiculous and awkward action- + Which, slanderer, he imitation calls- + He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, + Thy topless deputation he puts on; + And like a strutting player whose conceit + Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich + To hear the wooden dialogue and sound + 'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage- + Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming + He acts thy greatness in; and when he speaks + 'Tis like a chime a-mending; with terms unsquar'd, + Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd, + Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff + The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling, + From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause; + Cries 'Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just. + Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy beard, + As he being drest to some oration.' + That's done-as near as the extremest ends + Of parallels, as like Vulcan and his wife; + Yet god Achilles still cries 'Excellent! + 'Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus, + Arming to answer in a night alarm.' + And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age + Must be the scene of mirth: to cough and spit + And, with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget, + Shake in and out the rivet. And at this sport + Sir Valour dies; cries 'O, enough, Patroclus; + Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all + In pleasure of my spleen.' And in this fashion + All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, + Severals and generals of grace exact, + Achievements, plots, orders, preventions, + Excitements to the field or speech for truce, + Success or loss, what is or is not, serves + As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. + NESTOR. And in the imitation of these twain- + Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns + With an imperial voice-many are infect. + Ajax is grown self-will'd and bears his head + In such a rein, in full as proud a place + As broad Achilles; keeps his tent like him; + Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war + Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites, + A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint, + To match us in comparisons with dirt, + To weaken and discredit our exposure, + How rank soever rounded in with danger. + ULYSSES. They tax our policy and call it cowardice, + Count wisdom as no member of the war, + Forestall prescience, and esteem no act + But that of hand. The still and mental parts + That do contrive how many hands shall strike + When fitness calls them on, and know, by measure + Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight- + Why, this hath not a finger's dignity: + They call this bed-work, mapp'ry, closet-war; + So that the ram that batters down the wall, + For the great swinge and rudeness of his poise, + They place before his hand that made the engine, + Or those that with the fineness of their souls + By reason guide his execution. + NESTOR. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse + Makes many Thetis' sons. [Tucket] + AGAMEMNON. What trumpet? Look, Menelaus. + MENELAUS. From Troy. + + Enter AENEAS + + AGAMEMNON. What would you fore our tent? + AENEAS. Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you? + AGAMEMNON. Even this. + AENEAS. May one that is a herald and a prince + Do a fair message to his kingly eyes? + AGAMEMNON. With surety stronger than Achilles' an + Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice + Call Agamemnon head and general. + AENEAS. Fair leave and large security. How may + A stranger to those most imperial looks + Know them from eyes of other mortals? + AGAMEMNON. How? + AENEAS. Ay; + I ask, that I might waken reverence, + And bid the cheek be ready with a blush + Modest as Morning when she coldly eyes + The youthful Phoebus. + Which is that god in office, guiding men? + Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon? + AGAMEMNON. This Troyan scorns us, or the men of Troy + Are ceremonious courtiers. + AENEAS. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, + As bending angels; that's their fame in peace. + But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, + Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's accord, + Nothing so full of heart. But peace, Aeneas, + Peace, Troyan; lay thy finger on thy lips. + The worthiness of praise distains his worth, + If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth; + But what the repining enemy commends, + That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure, transcends. + AGAMEMNON. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself Aeneas? + AENEAS. Ay, Greek, that is my name. + AGAMEMNON. What's your affair, I pray you? + AENEAS. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears. + AGAMEMNON. He hears nought privately that comes from Troy. + AENEAS. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper with him; + I bring a trumpet to awake his ear, + To set his sense on the attentive bent, + And then to speak. + AGAMEMNON. Speak frankly as the wind; + It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour. + That thou shalt know, Troyan, he is awake, + He tells thee so himself. + AENEAS. Trumpet, blow loud, + Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents; + And every Greek of mettle, let him know + What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. + [Sound trumpet] + We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy + A prince called Hector-Priam is his father- + Who in this dull and long-continued truce + Is resty grown; he bade me take a trumpet + And to this purpose speak: Kings, princes, lords! + If there be one among the fair'st of Greece + That holds his honour higher than his ease, + That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril, + That knows his valour and knows not his fear, + That loves his mistress more than in confession + With truant vows to her own lips he loves, + And dare avow her beauty and her worth + In other arms than hers-to him this challenge. + Hector, in view of Troyans and of Greeks, + Shall make it good or do his best to do it: + He hath a lady wiser, fairer, truer, + Than ever Greek did couple in his arms; + And will to-morrow with his trumpet call + Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy + To rouse a Grecian that is true in love. + If any come, Hector shall honour him; + If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires, + The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worth + The splinter of a lance. Even so much. + AGAMEMNON. This shall be told our lovers, Lord Aeneas. + If none of them have soul in such a kind, + We left them all at home. But we are soldiers; + And may that soldier a mere recreant prove + That means not, hath not, or is not in love. + If then one is, or hath, or means to be, + That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he. + NESTOR. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man + When Hector's grandsire suck'd. He is old now; + But if there be not in our Grecian mould + One noble man that hath one spark of fire + To answer for his love, tell him from me + I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, + And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn, + And, meeting him, will tell him that my lady + Was fairer than his grandame, and as chaste + As may be in the world. His youth in flood, + I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood. + AENEAS. Now heavens forfend such scarcity of youth! + ULYSSES. Amen. + AGAMEMNON. Fair Lord Aeneas, let me touch your hand; + To our pavilion shall I lead you, first. + Achilles shall have word of this intent; + So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent. + Yourself shall feast with us before you go, + And find the welcome of a noble foe. + Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTOR + ULYSSES. Nestor! + NESTOR. What says Ulysses? + ULYSSES. I have a young conception in my brain; + Be you my time to bring it to some shape. + NESTOR. What is't? + ULYSSES. This 'tis: + Blunt wedges rive hard knots. The seeded pride + That hath to this maturity blown up + In rank Achilles must or now be cropp'd + Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil + To overbulk us all. + NESTOR. Well, and how? + ULYSSES. This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, + However it is spread in general name, + Relates in purpose only to Achilles. + NESTOR. True. The purpose is perspicuous even as substance + Whose grossness little characters sum up; + And, in the publication, make no strain + But that Achilles, were his brain as barren + As banks of Libya-though, Apollo knows, + 'Tis dry enough-will with great speed of judgment, + Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose + Pointing on him. + ULYSSES. And wake him to the answer, think you? + NESTOR. Why, 'tis most meet. Who may you else oppose + That can from Hector bring those honours off, + If not Achilles? Though 't be a sportful combat, + Yet in this trial much opinion dwells; + For here the Troyans taste our dear'st repute + With their fin'st palate; and trust to me, Ulysses, + Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd + In this vile action; for the success, + Although particular, shall give a scantling + Of good or bad unto the general; + And in such indexes, although small pricks + To their subsequent volumes, there is seen + The baby figure of the giant mas + Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd + He that meets Hector issues from our choice; + And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, + Makes merit her election, and doth boil, + As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd + Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, + What heart receives from hence a conquering part, + To steel a strong opinion to themselves? + Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments, + In no less working than are swords and bows + Directive by the limbs. + ULYSSES. Give pardon to my speech. + Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. + Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares + And think perchance they'll sell; if not, the lustre + Of the better yet to show shall show the better, + By showing the worst first. Do not consent + That ever Hector and Achilles meet; + For both our honour and our shame in this + Are dogg'd with two strange followers. + NESTOR. I see them not with my old eyes. What are they? + ULYSSES. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, + Were he not proud, we all should wear with him; + But he already is too insolent; + And it were better parch in Afric sun + Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, + Should he scape Hector fair. If he were foil'd, + Why, then we do our main opinion crush + In taint of our best man. No, make a lott'ry; + And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw + The sort to fight with Hector. Among ourselves + Give him allowance for the better man; + For that will physic the great Myrmidon, + Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall + His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends. + If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, + We'll dress him up in voices; if he fail, + Yet go we under our opinion still + That we have better men. But, hit or miss, + Our project's life this shape of sense assumes- + Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes. + NESTOR. Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice; + And I will give a taste thereof forthwith + To Agamemnon. Go we to him straight. + Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone + Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE 1. +The Grecian camp + +Enter Ajax and THERSITES + + AJAX. Thersites! + THERSITES. Agamemnon-how if he had boils full, an over, generally? + AJAX. Thersites! + THERSITES. And those boils did run-say so. Did not the general run + then? Were not that a botchy core? + AJAX. Dog! + THERSITES. Then there would come some matter from him; + I see none now. + AJAX. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? Feel, then. + [Strikes him] + THERSITES. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted + lord! + AJAX. Speak, then, thou whinid'st leaven, speak. I will beat thee + into handsomeness. + THERSITES. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness; but I + think thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a + prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? A red murrain + o' thy jade's tricks! + AJAX. Toadstool, learn me the proclamation. + THERSITES. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus? + AJAX. The proclamation! + THERSITES. Thou art proclaim'd, a fool, I think. + AJAX. Do not, porpentine, do not; my fingers itch. + THERSITES. I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had the + scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in + Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as + slow as another. + AJAX. I say, the proclamation. + THERSITES. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles; and + thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at + Proserpina's beauty-ay, that thou bark'st at him. + AJAX. Mistress Thersites! + THERSITES. Thou shouldst strike him. + AJAX. Cobloaf! + THERSITES. He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a + sailor breaks a biscuit. + AJAX. You whoreson cur! [Strikes him] + THERSITES. Do, do. + AJAX. Thou stool for a witch! + THERSITES. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more + brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinico may tutor thee. You + scurvy valiant ass! Thou art here but to thrash Troyans, and thou + art bought and sold among those of any wit like a barbarian + slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel and tell + what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou! + AJAX. You dog! + THERSITES. You scurvy lord! + AJAX. You cur! [Strikes him] + THERSITES. Mars his idiot! Do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do. + + Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS + + ACHILLES. Why, how now, Ajax! Wherefore do you thus? + How now, Thersites! What's the matter, man? + THERSITES. You see him there, do you? + ACHILLES. Ay; what's the matter? + THERSITES. Nay, look upon him. + ACHILLES. So I do. What's the matter? + THERSITES. Nay, but regard him well. + ACHILLES. Well! why, so I do. + THERSITES. But yet you look not well upon him; for who some ever + you take him to be, he is Ajax. + ACHILLES. I know that, fool. + THERSITES. Ay, but that fool knows not himself. + AJAX. Therefore I beat thee. + THERSITES. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! His + evasions have ears thus long. I have bobb'd his brain more than + he has beat my bones. I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and + his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow. This + lord, Achilles, Ajax-who wears his wit in his belly and his guts + in his head-I'll tell you what I say of him. + ACHILLES. What? + THERSITES. I say this Ajax- [AJAX offers to strike him] + ACHILLES. Nay, good Ajax. + THERSITES. Has not so much wit- + ACHILLES. Nay, I must hold you. + THERSITES. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he + comes to fight. + ACHILLES. Peace, fool. + THERSITES. I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not- + he there; that he; look you there. + AJAX. O thou damned cur! I shall- + ACHILLES. Will you set your wit to a fool's? + THERSITES. No, I warrant you, the fool's will shame it. + PATROCLUS. Good words, Thersites. + ACHILLES. What's the quarrel? + AJAX. I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour of the + proclamation, and he rails upon me. + THERSITES. I serve thee not. + AJAX. Well, go to, go to. + THERSITES. I serve here voluntary. + ACHILLES. Your last service was suff'rance; 'twas not voluntary. No + man is beaten voluntary. Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as + under an impress. + THERSITES. E'en so; a great deal of your wit too lies in your + sinews, or else there be liars. Hector shall have a great catch + an he knock out either of your brains: 'a were as good crack a + fusty nut with no kernel. + ACHILLES. What, with me too, Thersites? + THERSITES. There's Ulysses and old Nestor-whose wit was mouldy ere + your grandsires had nails on their toes-yoke you like draught + oxen, and make you plough up the wars. + ACHILLES. What, what? + THERSITES. Yes, good sooth. To Achilles, to Ajax, to- + AJAX. I shall cut out your tongue. + THERSITES. 'Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as thou + afterwards. + PATROCLUS. No more words, Thersites; peace! + THERSITES. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall + I? + ACHILLES. There's for you, Patroclus. + THERSITES. I will see you hang'd like clotpoles ere I come any more + to your tents. I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave + the faction of fools. Exit + PATROCLUS. A good riddance. + ACHILLES. Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our host, + That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun, + Will with a trumpet 'twixt our tents and Troy, + To-morrow morning, call some knight to arms + That hath a stomach; and such a one that dare + Maintain I know not what; 'tis trash. Farewell. + AJAX. Farewell. Who shall answer him? + ACHILLES. I know not; 'tis put to lott'ry. Otherwise. He knew his + man. + AJAX. O, meaning you! I will go learn more of it. Exeunt + + + + +ACT II. SCENE 2. +Troy. PRIAM'S palace + +Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and HELENUS + + PRIAM. After so many hours, lives, speeches, spent, + Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: + 'Deliver Helen, and all damage else- + As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, + Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consum'd + In hot digestion of this cormorant war- + Shall be struck off.' Hector, what say you to't? + HECTOR. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I, + As far as toucheth my particular, + Yet, dread Priam, + There is no lady of more softer bowels, + More spongy to suck in the sense of fear, + More ready to cry out 'Who knows what follows?' + Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety, + Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd + The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches + To th' bottom of the worst. Let Helen go. + Since the first sword was drawn about this question, + Every tithe soul 'mongst many thousand dismes + Hath been as dear as Helen-I mean, of ours. + If we have lost so many tenths of ours + To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us, + Had it our name, the value of one ten, + What merit's in that reason which denies + The yielding of her up? + TROILUS. Fie, fie, my brother! + Weigh you the worth and honour of a king, + So great as our dread father's, in a scale + Of common ounces? Will you with counters sum + The past-proportion of his infinite, + And buckle in a waist most fathomless + With spans and inches so diminutive + As fears and reasons? Fie, for godly shame! + HELENUS. No marvel though you bite so sharp at reasons, + You are so empty of them. Should not our father + Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, + Because your speech hath none that tells him so? + TROILUS. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest; + You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons: + You know an enemy intends you harm; + You know a sword employ'd is perilous, + And reason flies the object of all harm. + Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds + A Grecian and his sword, if he do set + The very wings of reason to his heels + And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, + Or like a star disorb'd? Nay, if we talk of reason, + Let's shut our gates and sleep. Manhood and honour + Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts + With this cramm'd reason. Reason and respect + Make livers pale and lustihood deject. + HECTOR. Brother, she is not worth what she doth, cost + The keeping. + TROILUS. What's aught but as 'tis valued? + HECTOR. But value dwells not in particular will: + It holds his estimate and dignity + As well wherein 'tis precious of itself + As in the prizer. 'Tis mad idolatry + To make the service greater than the god-I + And the will dotes that is attributive + To what infectiously itself affects, + Without some image of th' affected merit. + TROILUS. I take to-day a wife, and my election + Is led on in the conduct of my will; + My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, + Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores + Of will and judgment: how may I avoid, + Although my will distaste what it elected, + The wife I chose? There can be no evasion + To blench from this and to stand firm by honour. + We turn not back the silks upon the merchant + When we have soil'd them; nor the remainder viands + We do not throw in unrespective sieve, + Because we now are full. It was thought meet + Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks; + Your breath with full consent benied his sails; + The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce, + And did him service. He touch'd the ports desir'd; + And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive + He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness + Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morning. + Why keep we her? The Grecians keep our aunt. + Is she worth keeping? Why, she is a pearl + Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships, + And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. + If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went- + As you must needs, for you all cried 'Go, go'- + If you'll confess he brought home worthy prize- + As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands, + And cried 'Inestimable!' -why do you now + The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, + And do a deed that never fortune did- + Beggar the estimation which you priz'd + Richer than sea and land? O theft most base, + That we have stol'n what we do fear to keep! + But thieves unworthy of a thing so stol'n + That in their country did them that disgrace + We fear to warrant in our native place! + CASSANDRA. [Within] Cry, Troyans, cry. + PRIAM. What noise, what shriek is this? + TROILUS. 'Tis our mad sister; I do know her voice. + CASSANDRA. [Within] Cry, Troyans. + HECTOR. It is Cassandra. + + Enter CASSANDRA, raving + + CASSANDRA. Cry, Troyans, cry. Lend me ten thousand eyes, + And I will fill them with prophetic tears. + HECTOR. Peace, sister, peace. + CASSANDRA. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld, + Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, + Add to my clamours. Let us pay betimes + A moiety of that mass of moan to come. + Cry, Troyans, cry. Practise your eyes with tears. + Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand; + Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. + Cry, Troyans, cry, A Helen and a woe! + Cry, cry. Troy burns, or else let Helen go. Exit + HECTOR. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains + Of divination in our sister work + Some touches of remorse, or is your blood + So madly hot that no discourse of reason, + Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause, + Can qualify the same? + TROILUS. Why, brother Hector, + We may not think the justness of each act + Such and no other than event doth form it; + Nor once deject the courage of our minds + Because Cassandra's mad. Her brain-sick raptures + Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel + Which hath our several honours all engag'd + To make it gracious. For my private part, + I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons; + And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us + Such things as might offend the weakest spleen + To fight for and maintain. + PARIS. Else might the world convince of levity + As well my undertakings as your counsels; + But I attest the gods, your full consent + Gave wings to my propension, and cut of + All fears attending on so dire a project. + For what, alas, can these my single arms? + What propugnation is in one man's valour + To stand the push and enmity of those + This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest, + Were I alone to pass the difficulties, + And had as ample power as I have will, + Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done + Nor faint in the pursuit. + PRIAM. Paris, you speak + Like one besotted on your sweet delights. + You have the honey still, but these the gall; + So to be valiant is no praise at all. + PARIS. Sir, I propose not merely to myself + The pleasures such a beauty brings with it; + But I would have the soil of her fair rape + Wip'd off in honourable keeping her. + What treason were it to the ransack'd queen, + Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me, + Now to deliver her possession up + On terms of base compulsion! Can it be + That so degenerate a strain as this + Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? + There's not the meanest spirit on our party + Without a heart to dare or sword to draw + When Helen is defended; nor none so noble + Whose life were ill bestow'd or death unfam'd + Where Helen is the subject. Then, I say, + Well may we fight for her whom we know well + The world's large spaces cannot parallel. + HECTOR. Paris and Troilus, you have both said well; + And on the cause and question now in hand + Have gloz'd, but superficially; not much + Unlike young men, whom Aristode thought + Unfit to hear moral philosophy. + The reasons you allege do more conduce + To the hot passion of distemp'red blood + Than to make up a free determination + 'Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and revenge + Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice + Of any true decision. Nature craves + All dues be rend'red to their owners. Now, + What nearer debt in all humanity + Than wife is to the husband? If this law + Of nature be corrupted through affection; + And that great minds, of partial indulgence + To their benumbed wills, resist the same; + There is a law in each well-order'd nation + To curb those raging appetites that are + Most disobedient and refractory. + If Helen, then, be wife to Sparta's king- + As it is known she is-these moral laws + Of nature and of nations speak aloud + To have her back return'd. Thus to persist + In doing wrong extenuates not wrong, + But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion + Is this, in way of truth. Yet, ne'er the less, + My spritely brethren, I propend to you + In resolution to keep Helen still; + For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependence + Upon our joint and several dignities. + TROILUS. Why, there you touch'd the life of our design. + Were it not glory that we more affected + Than the performance of our heaving spleens, + I would not wish a drop of Troyan blood + Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, + She is a theme of honour and renown, + A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds, + Whose present courage may beat down our foes, + And fame in time to come canonize us; + For I presume brave Hector would not lose + So rich advantage of a promis'd glory + As smiles upon the forehead of this action + For the wide world's revenue. + HECTOR. I am yours, + You valiant offspring of great Priamus. + I have a roisting challenge sent amongst + The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks + Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits. + I was advertis'd their great general slept, + Whilst emulation in the army crept. + This, I presume, will wake him. Exeunt + + + + +ACT II. SCENE 3. +The Grecian camp. Before the tent of ACHILLES + +Enter THERSITES, solus + + THERSITES. How now, Thersites! What, lost in the labyrinth of thy + fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats me, and I + rail at him. O worthy satisfaction! Would it were otherwise: that + I could beat him, whilst he rail'd at me! 'Sfoot, I'll learn to + conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful + execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer! If Troy be + not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till + they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, + forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods, and, Mercury, lose + all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that + little little less-than-little wit from them that they have! + which short-arm'd ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, + it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider without + drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the + vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the Neapolitan + bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curse depending on those + that war for a placket. I have said my prayers; and devil Envy + say 'Amen.' What ho! my Lord Achilles! + + Enter PATROCLUS + + PATROCLUS. Who's there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in and + rail. + THERSITES. If I could 'a rememb'red a gilt counterfeit, thou + wouldst not have slipp'd out of my contemplation; but it is no + matter; thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly + and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! Heaven bless thee from + a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy + direction till thy death. Then if she that lays thee out says + thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never + shrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles? + PATROCLUS. What, art thou devout? Wast thou in prayer? + THERSITES. Ay, the heavens hear me! + PATROCLUS. Amen. + + Enter ACHILLES + + ACHILLES. Who's there? + PATROCLUS. Thersites, my lord. + ACHILLES. Where, where? O, where? Art thou come? Why, my cheese, my + digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so + many meals? Come, what's Agamemnon? + THERSITES. Thy commander, Achilles. Then tell me, Patroclus, what's + Achilles? + PATROCLUS. Thy lord, Thersites. Then tell me, I pray thee, what's + Thersites? + THERSITES. Thy knower, Patroclus. Then tell me, Patroclus, what art + thou? + PATROCLUS. Thou must tell that knowest. + ACHILLES. O, tell, tell, + THERSITES. I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands + Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower; and + Patroclus is a fool. + PATROCLUS. You rascal! + THERSITES. Peace, fool! I have not done. + ACHILLES. He is a privileg'd man. Proceed, Thersites. + THERSITES. Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a + fool; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool. + ACHILLES. Derive this; come. + THERSITES. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; + Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a + fool to serve such a fool; and this Patroclus is a fool positive. + PATROCLUS. Why am I a fool? + THERSITES. Make that demand of the Creator. It suffices me thou + art. Look you, who comes here? + ACHILLES. Come, Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody. Come in with me, + Thersites. Exit + THERSITES. Here is such patchery, such juggling, and such knavery. + All the argument is a whore and a cuckold-a good quarrel to draw + emulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now the dry serpigo on + the subject, and war and lechery confound all! Exit + + Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, + AJAX, and CALCHAS + + AGAMEMNON. Where is Achilles? + PATROCLUS. Within his tent; but ill-dispos'd, my lord. + AGAMEMNON. Let it be known to him that we are here. + He shent our messengers; and we lay by + Our appertainings, visiting of him. + Let him be told so; lest, perchance, he think + We dare not move the question of our place + Or know not what we are. + PATROCLUS. I shall say so to him. Exit + ULYSSES. We saw him at the opening of his tent. + He is not sick. + AJAX. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart. You may call it + melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, 'tis + pride. But why, why? Let him show us a cause. A word, my lord. + [Takes AGAMEMNON aside] + NESTOR. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him? + ULYSSES. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. + NESTOR.Who, Thersites? + ULYSSES. He. + NESTOR. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument + ULYSSES. No; you see he is his argument that has his argument- + Achilles. + NESTOR. All the better; their fraction is more our wish than their + faction. But it was a strong composure a fool could disunite! + ULYSSES. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie. + + Re-enter PATROCLUS + + Here comes Patroclus. + NESTOR. No Achilles with him. + ULYSSES. The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy; his legs + are legs for necessity, not for flexure. + PATROCLUS. Achilles bids me say he is much sorry + If any thing more than your sport and pleasure + Did move your greatness and this noble state + To call upon him; he hopes it is no other + But for your health and your digestion sake, + An after-dinner's breath. + AGAMEMNON. Hear you, Patroclus. + We are too well acquainted with these answers; + But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn, + Cannot outfly our apprehensions. + Much attribute he hath, and much the reason + Why we ascribe it to him. Yet all his virtues, + Not virtuously on his own part beheld, + Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss; + Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish, + Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him + We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin + If you do say we think him over-proud + And under-honest, in self-assumption greater + Than in the note of judgment; and worthier than himself + Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on, + Disguise the holy strength of their command, + And underwrite in an observing kind + His humorous predominance; yea, watch + His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if + The passage and whole carriage of this action + Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and ad + That if he overhold his price so much + We'll none of him, but let him, like an engine + Not portable, lie under this report: + Bring action hither; this cannot go to war. + A stirring dwarf we do allowance give + Before a sleeping giant. Tell him so. + PATROCLUS. I shall, and bring his answer presently. Exit + AGAMEMNON. In second voice we'll not be satisfied; + We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter you. + Exit ULYSSES + AJAX. What is he more than another? + AGAMEMNON. No more than what he thinks he is. + AJAX. Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a better + man than I am? + AGAMEMNON. No question. + AJAX. Will you subscribe his thought and say he is? + AGAMEMNON. No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, + no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable. + AJAX. Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not + what pride is. + AGAMEMNON. Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the + fairer. He that is proud eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, + his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself + but in the deed devours the deed in the praise. + + Re-enter ULYSSES + + AJAX. I do hate a proud man as I do hate the engend'ring of toads. + NESTOR. [Aside] And yet he loves himself: is't not strange? + ULYSSES. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. + AGAMEMNON. What's his excuse? + ULYSSES. He doth rely on none; + But carries on the stream of his dispose, + Without observance or respect of any, + In will peculiar and in self-admission. + AGAMEMNON. Why will he not, upon our fair request, + Untent his person and share the air with us? + ULYSSES. Things small as nothing, for request's sake only, + He makes important; possess'd he is with greatness, + And speaks not to himself but with a pride + That quarrels at self-breath. Imagin'd worth + Holds in his blood such swol'n and hot discourse + That 'twixt his mental and his active parts + Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages, + And batters down himself. What should I say? + He is so plaguy proud that the death tokens of it + Cry 'No recovery.' + AGAMEMNON. Let Ajax go to him. + Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent. + 'Tis said he holds you well; and will be led + At your request a little from himself. + ULYSSES. O Agamemnon, let it not be so! + We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes + When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud lord + That bastes his arrogance with his own seam + And never suffers matter of the world + Enter his thoughts, save such as doth revolve + And ruminate himself-shall he be worshipp'd + Of that we hold an idol more than he? + No, this thrice-worthy and right valiant lord + Shall not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd, + Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit, + As amply titled as Achilles is, + By going to Achilles. + That were to enlard his fat-already pride, + And add more coals to Cancer when he burns + With entertaining great Hyperion. + This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid, + And say in thunder 'Achilles go to him.' + NESTOR. [Aside] O, this is well! He rubs the vein of him. + DIOMEDES. [Aside] And how his silence drinks up this applause! + AJAX. If I go to him, with my armed fist I'll pash him o'er the + face. + AGAMEMNON. O, no, you shall not go. + AJAX. An 'a be proud with me I'll pheeze his pride. + Let me go to him. + ULYSSES. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. + AJAX. A paltry, insolent fellow! + NESTOR. [Aside] How he describes himself! + AJAX. Can he not be sociable? + ULYSSES. [Aside] The raven chides blackness. + AJAX. I'll let his humours blood. + AGAMEMNON. [Aside] He will be the physician that should be the + patient. + AJAX. An all men were a my mind- + ULYSSES. [Aside] Wit would be out of fashion. + AJAX. 'A should not bear it so, 'a should eat's words first. + Shall pride carry it? + NESTOR. [Aside] An 'twould, you'd carry half. + ULYSSES. [Aside] 'A would have ten shares. + AJAX. I will knead him, I'll make him supple. + NESTOR. [Aside] He's not yet through warm. Force him with praises; + pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. + ULYSSES. [To AGAMEMNON] My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. + NESTOR. Our noble general, do not do so. + DIOMEDES. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. + ULYSSES. Why 'tis this naming of him does him harm. + Here is a man-but 'tis before his face; + I will be silent. + NESTOR. Wherefore should you so? + He is not emulous, as Achilles is. + ULYSSES. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. + AJAX. A whoreson dog, that shall palter with us thus! + Would he were a Troyan! + NESTOR. What a vice were it in Ajax now- + ULYSSES. If he were proud. + DIOMEDES. Or covetous of praise. + ULYSSES. Ay, or surly borne. + DIOMEDES. Or strange, or self-affected. + ULYSSES. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure + Praise him that gat thee, she that gave thee suck; + Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature + Thrice-fam'd beyond, beyond all erudition; + But he that disciplin'd thine arms to fight- + Let Mars divide eternity in twain + And give him half; and, for thy vigour, + Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield + To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, + Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines + Thy spacious and dilated parts. Here's Nestor, + Instructed by the antiquary times- + He must, he is, he cannot but be wise; + But pardon, father Nestor, were your days + As green as Ajax' and your brain so temper'd, + You should not have the eminence of him, + But be as Ajax. + AJAX. Shall I call you father? + NESTOR. Ay, my good son. + DIOMEDES. Be rul'd by him, Lord Ajax. + ULYSSES. There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles + Keeps thicket. Please it our great general + To call together all his state of war; + Fresh kings are come to Troy. To-morrow + We must with all our main of power stand fast; + And here's a lord-come knights from east to west + And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best. + AGAMEMNON. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep. + Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep. + Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE 1. +Troy. PRIAM'S palace + +Music sounds within. Enter PANDARUS and a SERVANT + + PANDARUS. Friend, you-pray you, a word. Do you not follow the young + Lord Paris? + SERVANT. Ay, sir, when he goes before me. + PANDARUS. You depend upon him, I mean? + SERVANT. Sir, I do depend upon the lord. + PANDARUS. You depend upon a notable gentleman; I must needs praise + him. + SERVANT. The lord be praised! + PANDARUS. You know me, do you not? + SERVANT. Faith, sir, superficially. + PANDARUS. Friend, know me better: I am the Lord Pandarus. + SERVANT. I hope I shall know your honour better. + PANDARUS. I do desire it. + SERVANT. You are in the state of grace. + PANDARUS. Grace! Not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles. + What music is this? + SERVANT. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in parts. + PANDARUS. Know you the musicians? + SERVANT. Wholly, sir. + PANDARUS. Who play they to? + SERVANT. To the hearers, sir. + PANDARUS. At whose pleasure, friend? + SERVANT. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music. + PANDARUS. Command, I mean, friend. + SERVANT. Who shall I command, sir? + PANDARUS. Friend, we understand not one another: I am to courtly, + and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play? + SERVANT. That's to't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir, at the request of + Paris my lord, who is there in person; with him the mortal Venus, + the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul- + PANDARUS. Who, my cousin, Cressida? + SERVANT. No, sir, Helen. Could not you find out that by her + attributes? + PANDARUS. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the Lady + Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus; I + will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business + seethes. + SERVANT. Sodden business! There's a stew'd phrase indeed! + + Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended + + PANDARUS. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! + Fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them- especially + to you, fair queen! Fair thoughts be your fair pillow. + HELEN. Dear lord, you are full of fair words. + PANDARUS. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair prince, + here is good broken music. + PARIS. You have broke it, cousin; and by my life, you shall make it + whole again; you shall piece it out with a piece of your + performance. + HELEN. He is full of harmony. + PANDARUS. Truly, lady, no. + HELEN. O, sir- + PANDARUS. Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude. + PARIS. Well said, my lord. Well, you say so in fits. + PANDARUS. I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord, will you + vouchsafe me a word? + HELEN. Nay, this shall not hedge us out. We'll hear you sing, + certainly- + PANDARUS. Well sweet queen, you are pleasant with me. But, marry, + thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed friend, your + brother Troilus- + HELEN. My Lord Pandarus, honey-sweet lord- + PANDARUS. Go to, sweet queen, go to-commends himself most + affectionately to you- + HELEN. You shall not bob us out of our melody. If you do, our + melancholy upon your head! + PANDARUS. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a sweet queen, i' faith. + HELEN. And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence. + PANDARUS. Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not, + in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, no. -And, my + lord, he desires you that, if the King call for him at supper, + you will make his excuse. + HELEN. My Lord Pandarus! + PANDARUS. What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen? + PARIS. What exploit's in hand? Where sups he to-night? + HELEN. Nay, but, my lord- + PANDARUS. What says my sweet queen?-My cousin will fall out with + you. + HELEN. You must not know where he sups. + PARIS. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida. + PANDARUS. No, no, no such matter; you are wide. Come, your disposer + is sick. + PARIS. Well, I'll make's excuse. + PANDARUS. Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? + No, your poor disposer's sick. + PARIS. I spy. + PANDARUS. You spy! What do you spy?-Come, give me an instrument. + Now, sweet queen. + HELEN. Why, this is kindly done. + PANDARUS. My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweet + queen. + HELEN. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my Lord Paris. + PANDARUS. He! No, she'll none of him; they two are twain. + HELEN. Falling in, after falling out, may make them three. + PANDARUS. Come, come. I'll hear no more of this; I'll sing you a + song now. + HELEN. Ay, ay, prithee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a + fine forehead. + PANDARUS. Ay, you may, you may. + HELEN. Let thy song be love. This love will undo us all. O Cupid, + Cupid, Cupid! + PANDARUS. Love! Ay, that it shall, i' faith. + PARIS. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love. + PANDARUS. In good troth, it begins so. [Sings] + + Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more! + For, oh, love's bow + Shoots buck and doe; + The shaft confounds + Not that it wounds, + But tickles still the sore. + These lovers cry, O ho, they die! + Yet that which seems the wound to kill + Doth turn O ho! to ha! ha! he! + So dying love lives still. + O ho! a while, but ha! ha! ha! + O ho! groans out for ha! ha! ha!-hey ho! + + HELEN. In love, i' faith, to the very tip of the nose. + PARIS. He eats nothing but doves, love; and that breeds hot blood, + and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot + deeds, and hot deeds is love. + PANDARUS. Is this the generation of love: hot blood, hot thoughts, + and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of + vipers? Sweet lord, who's a-field today? + PARIS. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry + of Troy. I would fain have arm'd to-day, but my Nell would not + have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not? + HELEN. He hangs the lip at something. You know all, Lord Pandarus. + PANDARUS. Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they spend + to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse? + PARIS. To a hair. + PANDARUS. Farewell, sweet queen. + HELEN. Commend me to your niece. + PANDARUS. I will, sweet queen. Exit. Sound a retreat + PARIS. They're come from the field. Let us to Priam's hall + To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you + To help unarm our Hector. His stubborn buckles, + With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd, + Shall more obey than to the edge of steel + Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more + Than all the island kings-disarm great Hector. + HELEN. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris; + Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty + Gives us more palm in beauty than we have, + Yea, overshines ourself. + PARIS. Sweet, above thought I love thee. Exeunt + + + + +ACT III. SCENE 2. +Troy. PANDARUS' orchard + +Enter PANDARUS and TROILUS' BOY, meeting + + PANDARUS. How now! Where's thy master? At my cousin Cressida's? + BOY. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither. + + Enter TROILUS + + PANDARUS. O, here he comes. How now, how now! + TROILUS. Sirrah, walk off. Exit Boy + PANDARUS. Have you seen my cousin? + TROILUS. No, Pandarus. I stalk about her door + Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks + Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, + And give me swift transportance to these fields + Where I may wallow in the lily beds + Propos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandar, + From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings, + And fly with me to Cressid! + PANDARUS. Walk here i' th' orchard, I'll bring her straight. + Exit + TROILUS. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. + Th' imaginary relish is so sweet + That it enchants my sense; what will it be + When that the wat'ry palate tastes indeed + Love's thrice-repured nectar? Death, I fear me; + Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine, + Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness, + For the capacity of my ruder powers. + I fear it much; and I do fear besides + That I shall lose distinction in my joys; + As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps + The enemy flying. + + Re-enter PANDARUS + + PANDARUS. She's making her ready, she'll come straight; you must be + witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as + if she were fray'd with a sprite. I'll fetch her. It is the + prettiest villain; she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en + sparrow. Exit + TROILUS. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom. + My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse, + And all my powers do their bestowing lose, + Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring + The eye of majesty. + + Re-enter PANDARUS With CRESSIDA + + PANDARUS. Come, come, what need you blush? Shame's a baby.-Here she + is now; swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me.- + What, are you gone again? You must be watch'd ere you be made + tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw + backward, we'll put you i' th' fills.-Why do you not speak to + her?-Come, draw this curtain and let's see your picture. + Alas the day, how loath you are to offend daylight! An 'twere + dark, you'd close sooner. So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress + How now, a kiss in fee-farm! Build there, carpenter; the air is + sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The + falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i' th' river. Go to, go + to. + TROILUS. You have bereft me of all words, lady. + PANDARUS. Words pay no debts, give her deeds; but she'll bereave + you o' th' deeds too, if she call your activity in question. + What, billing again? Here's 'In witness whereof the parties + interchangeably.' Come in, come in; I'll go get a fire. + Exit + CRESSIDA. Will you walk in, my lord? + TROILUS. O Cressid, how often have I wish'd me thus! + CRESSIDA. Wish'd, my lord! The gods grant-O my lord! + TROILUS. What should they grant? What makes this pretty abruption? + What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our + love? + CRESSIDA. More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes. + TROILUS. Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly. + CRESSIDA. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing + than blind reason stumbling without fear. To fear the worst oft + cures the worse. + TROILUS. O, let my lady apprehend no fear! In all Cupid's pageant + there is presented no monster. + CRESSIDA. Nor nothing monstrous neither? + TROILUS. Nothing, but our undertakings when we vow to weep seas, + live in fire, cat rocks, tame tigers; thinking it harder for our + mistress to devise imposition enough than for us to undergo any + difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady, that + the will is infinite, and the execution confin'd; that the desire + is boundless, and the act a slave to limit. + CRESSIDA. They say all lovers swear more performance than they are + able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing + more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the + tenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions and the act + of hares, are they not monsters? + TROILUS. Are there such? Such are not we. Praise us as we are + tasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go bare till merit + crown it. No perfection in reversion shall have a praise in + present. We will not name desert before his birth; and, being + born, his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith: + Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst shall + be a mock for his truth; and what truth can speak truest not + truer than Troilus. + CRESSIDA. Will you walk in, my lord? + + Re-enter PANDARUS + + PANDARUS. What, blushing still? Have you not done talking yet? + CRESSIDA. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you. + PANDARUS. I thank you for that; if my lord get a boy of you, you'll + give him me. Be true to my lord; if he flinch, chide me for it. + TROILUS. You know now your hostages: your uncle's word and my firm + faith. + PANDARUS. Nay, I'll give my word for her too: our kindred, though + they be long ere they are wooed, they are constant being won; + they are burs, I can tell you; they'll stick where they are + thrown. + CRESSIDA. Boldness comes to me now and brings me heart. + Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day + For many weary months. + TROILUS. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win? + CRESSIDA. Hard to seem won; but I was won, my lord, + With the first glance that ever-pardon me. + If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. + I love you now; but till now not so much + But I might master it. In faith, I lie; + My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown + Too headstrong for their mother. See, we fools! + Why have I blabb'd? Who shall be true to us, + When we are so unsecret to ourselves? + But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not; + And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man, + Or that we women had men's privilege + Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue, + For in this rapture I shall surely speak + The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence, + Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws + My very soul of counsel. Stop my mouth. + TROILUS. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence. + PANDARUS. Pretty, i' faith. + CRESSIDA. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me; + 'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss. + I am asham'd. O heavens! what have I done? + For this time will I take my leave, my lord. + TROILUS. Your leave, sweet Cressid! + PANDARUS. Leave! An you take leave till to-morrow morning- + CRESSIDA. Pray you, content you. + TROILUS. What offends you, lady? + CRESSIDA. Sir, mine own company. + TROILUS. You cannot shun yourself. + CRESSIDA. Let me go and try. + I have a kind of self resides with you; + But an unkind self, that itself will leave + To be another's fool. I would be gone. + Where is my wit? I know not what I speak. + TROILUS. Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely. + CRESSIDA. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love; + And fell so roundly to a large confession + To angle for your thoughts; but you are wise- + Or else you love not; for to be wise and love + Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above. + TROILUS. O that I thought it could be in a woman- + As, if it can, I will presume in you- + To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love; + To keep her constancy in plight and youth, + Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind + That doth renew swifter than blood decays! + Or that persuasion could but thus convince me + That my integrity and truth to you + Might be affronted with the match and weight + Of such a winnowed purity in love. + How were I then uplifted! but, alas, + I am as true as truth's simplicity, + And simpler than the infancy of truth. + CRESSIDA. In that I'll war with you. + TROILUS. O virtuous fight, + When right with right wars who shall be most right! + True swains in love shall in the world to come + Approve their truth by Troilus, when their rhymes, + Full of protest, of oath, and big compare, + Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration- + As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, + As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, + As iron to adamant, as earth to th' centre- + Yet, after all comparisons of truth, + As truth's authentic author to be cited, + 'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verse + And sanctify the numbers. + CRESSIDA. Prophet may you be! + If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, + When time is old and hath forgot itself, + When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, + And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up, + And mighty states characterless are grated + To dusty nothing-yet let memory + From false to false, among false maids in love, + Upbraid my falsehood when th' have said 'As false + As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, + As fox to lamb, or wolf to heifer's calf, + Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son'- + Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, + 'As false as Cressid.' + PANDARUS. Go to, a bargain made; seal it, seal it; I'll be the + witness. Here I hold your hand; here my cousin's. If ever you + prove false one to another, since I have taken such pains to + bring you together, let all pitiful goers- between be call'd to + the world's end after my name-call them all Pandars; let all + constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all + brokers between Pandars. Say 'Amen.' + TROILUS. Amen. + CRESSIDA. Amen. + PANDARUS. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber + and a bed; which bed, because it shall not speak of your + pretty encounters, press it to death. Away! + And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here, + Bed, chamber, pander, to provide this gear! Exeunt + + + + +ACT III. SCENE 3. +The Greek camp + +Flourish. Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, NESTOR, AJAX, MENELAUS, +and CALCHAS + + CALCHAS. Now, Princes, for the service I have done, + Th' advantage of the time prompts me aloud + To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind + That, through the sight I bear in things to come, + I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession, + Incurr'd a traitor's name, expos'd myself + From certain and possess'd conveniences + To doubtful fortunes, sequest'ring from me all + That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition, + Made tame and most familiar to my nature; + And here, to do you service, am become + As new into the world, strange, unacquainted- + I do beseech you, as in way of taste, + To give me now a little benefit + Out of those many regist'red in promise, + Which you say live to come in my behalf. + AGAMEMNON. What wouldst thou of us, Troyan? Make demand. + CALCHAS. You have a Troyan prisoner call'd Antenor, + Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear. + Oft have you-often have you thanks therefore- + Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange, + Whom Troy hath still denied; but this Antenor, + I know, is such a wrest in their affairs + That their negotiations all must slack + Wanting his manage; and they will almost + Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, + In change of him. Let him be sent, great Princes, + And he shall buy my daughter; and her presence + Shall quite strike off all service I have done + In most accepted pain. + AGAMEMNON. Let Diomedes bear him, + And bring us Cressid hither. Calchas shall have + What he requests of us. Good Diomed, + Furnish you fairly for this interchange; + Withal, bring word if Hector will to-morrow + Be answer'd in his challenge. Ajax is ready. + DIOMEDES. This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden + Which I am proud to bear. + Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS + + ACHILLES and PATROCLUS stand in their tent + + ULYSSES. Achilles stands i' th' entrance of his tent. + Please it our general pass strangely by him, + As if he were forgot; and, Princes all, + Lay negligent and loose regard upon him. + I will come last. 'Tis like he'll question me + Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on him? + If so, I have derision med'cinable + To use between your strangeness and his pride, + Which his own will shall have desire to drink. + It may do good. Pride hath no other glass + To show itself but pride; for supple knees + Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees. + AGAMEMNON. We'll execute your purpose, and put on + A form of strangeness as we pass along. + So do each lord; and either greet him not, + Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more + Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way. + ACHILLES. What comes the general to speak with me? + You know my mind. I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. + AGAMEMNON. What says Achilles? Would he aught with us? + NESTOR. Would you, my lord, aught with the general? + ACHILLES. No. + NESTOR. Nothing, my lord. + AGAMEMNON. The better. + Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR + ACHILLES. Good day, good day. + MENELAUS. How do you? How do you? Exit + ACHILLES. What, does the cuckold scorn me? + AJAX. How now, Patroclus? + ACHILLES. Good morrow, Ajax. + AJAX. Ha? + ACHILLES. Good morrow. + AJAX. Ay, and good next day too. Exit + ACHILLES. What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles? + PATROCLUS. They pass by strangely. They were us'd to bend, + To send their smiles before them to Achilles, + To come as humbly as they us'd to creep + To holy altars. + ACHILLES. What, am I poor of late? + 'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune, + Must fall out with men too. What the declin'd is, + He shall as soon read in the eyes of others + As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies, + Show not their mealy wings but to the summer; + And not a man for being simply man + Hath any honour, but honour for those honours + That are without him, as place, riches, and favour, + Prizes of accident, as oft as merit; + Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, + The love that lean'd on them as slippery too, + Doth one pluck down another, and together + Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me: + Fortune and I are friends; I do enjoy + At ample point all that I did possess + Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out + Something not worth in me such rich beholding + As they have often given. Here is Ulysses. + I'll interrupt his reading. + How now, Ulysses! + ULYSSES. Now, great Thetis' son! + ACHILLES. What are you reading? + ULYSSES. A strange fellow here + Writes me that man-how dearly ever parted, + How much in having, or without or in- + Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, + Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection; + As when his virtues shining upon others + Heat them, and they retort that heat again + To the first giver. + ACHILLES. This is not strange, Ulysses. + The beauty that is borne here in the face + The bearer knows not, but commends itself + To others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself- + That most pure spirit of sense-behold itself, + Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed + Salutes each other with each other's form; + For speculation turns not to itself + Till it hath travell'd, and is mirror'd there + Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all. + ULYSSES. I do not strain at the position- + It is familiar-but at the author's drift; + Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves + That no man is the lord of anything, + Though in and of him there be much consisting, + Till he communicate his parts to others; + Nor doth he of himself know them for aught + Till he behold them formed in th' applause + Where th' are extended; who, like an arch, reverb'rate + The voice again; or, like a gate of steel + Fronting the sun, receives and renders back + His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this; + And apprehended here immediately + Th' unknown Ajax. Heavens, what a man is there! + A very horse that has he knows not what! + Nature, what things there are + Most abject in regard and dear in use! + What things again most dear in the esteem + And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow- + An act that very chance doth throw upon him- + Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do, + While some men leave to do! + How some men creep in skittish Fortune's-hall, + Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes! + How one man eats into another's pride, + While pride is fasting in his wantonness! + To see these Grecian lords!-why, even already + They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder, + As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast, + And great Troy shrinking. + ACHILLES. I do believe it; for they pass'd by me + As misers do by beggars-neither gave to me + Good word nor look. What, are my deeds forgot? + ULYSSES. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, + Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, + A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes. + Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd + As fast as they are made, forgot as soon + As done. Perseverance, dear my lord, + Keeps honour bright. To have done is to hang + Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail + In monumental mock'ry. Take the instant way; + For honour travels in a strait so narrow - + Where one but goes abreast. Keep then the path, + For emulation hath a thousand sons + That one by one pursue; if you give way, + Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, + Like to an ent'red tide they all rush by + And leave you hindmost; + Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank, + Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, + O'er-run and trampled on. Then what they do in present, + Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; + For Time is like a fashionable host, + That slightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand; + And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly, + Grasps in the corner. The welcome ever smiles, + And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek + Remuneration for the thing it was; + For beauty, wit, + High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, + Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all + To envious and calumniating Time. + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin- + That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, + Though they are made and moulded of things past, + And give to dust that is a little gilt + More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. + The present eye praises the present object. + Then marvel not, thou great and complete man, + That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax, + Since things in motion sooner catch the eye + Than what stirs not. The cry went once on thee, + And still it might, and yet it may again, + If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive + And case thy reputation in thy tent, + Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late + Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves, + And drave great Mars to faction. + ACHILLES. Of this my privacy + I have strong reasons. + ULYSSES. But 'gainst your privacy + The reasons are more potent and heroical. + 'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love + With one of Priam's daughters. + ACHILLES. Ha! known! + ULYSSES. Is that a wonder? + The providence that's in a watchful state + Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold; + Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps; + Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods, + Do thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. + There is a mystery-with whom relation + Durst never meddle-in the soul of state, + Which hath an operation more divine + Than breath or pen can give expressure to. + All the commerce that you have had with Troy + As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord; + And better would it fit Achilles much + To throw down Hector than Polyxena. + But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, + When fame shall in our island sound her trump, + And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing + 'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win; + But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.' + Farewell, my lord. I as your lover speak. + The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break. Exit + PATROCLUS. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you. + A woman impudent and mannish grown + Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man + In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this; + They think my little stomach to the war + And your great love to me restrains you thus. + Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid + Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, + And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, + Be shook to airy air. + ACHILLES. Shall Ajax fight with Hector? + PATROCLUS. Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him. + ACHILLES. I see my reputation is at stake; + My fame is shrewdly gor'd. + PATROCLUS. O, then, beware: + Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves; + Omission to do what is necessary + Seals a commission to a blank of danger; + And danger, like an ague, subtly taints + Even then when they sit idly in the sun. + ACHILLES. Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus. + I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him + T' invite the Troyan lords, after the combat, + To see us here unarm'd. I have a woman's longing, + An appetite that I am sick withal, + To see great Hector in his weeds of peace; + To talk with him, and to behold his visage, + Even to my full of view. + + Enter THERSITES + + A labour sav'd! + THERSITES. A wonder! + ACHILLES. What? + THERSITES. Ajax goes up and down the field asking for himself. + ACHILLES. How so? + THERSITES. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector, and is so + prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves in + saying nothing. + ACHILLES. How can that be? + THERSITES. Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock-a stride and a + stand; ruminaies like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her + brain to set down her reckoning, bites his lip with a politic + regard, as who should say 'There were wit in this head, an + 'twould out'; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as + fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's + undone for ever; for if Hector break not his neck i' th' combat, + he'll break't himself in vainglory. He knows not me. I said 'Good + morrow, Ajax'; and he replies 'Thanks, Agamemnon.' What think you + of this man that takes me for the general? He's grown a very land + fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion! A man may + wear it on both sides, like leather jerkin. + ACHILLES. Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites. + THERSITES. Who, I? Why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not + answering. Speaking is for beggars: he wears his tongue in's + arms. I will put on his presence. Let Patroclus make his demands + to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax. + ACHILLES. To him, Patroclus. Tell him I humbly desire the valiant + Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarm'd to my + tent; and to procure safe conduct for his person of the + magnanimous and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honour'd + Captain General of the Grecian army, et cetera, Agamemnon. Do + this. + PATROCLUS. Jove bless great Ajax! + THERSITES. Hum! + PATROCLUS. I come from the worthy Achilles- + THERSITES. Ha! + PATROCLUS. Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his + tent- + THERSITES. Hum! + PATROCLUS. And to procure safe conduct from Agamemnon. + THERSITES. Agamemnon! + PATROCLUS. Ay, my lord. + THERSITES. Ha! + PATROCLUS. What you say to't? + THERSITES. God buy you, with all my heart. + PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir. + THERSITES. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven of the clock it + will go one way or other. Howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he + has me. + PATROCLUS. Your answer, sir. + THERSITES. Fare ye well, with all my heart. + ACHILLES. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? + THERSITES. No, but he's out a tune thus. What music will be in him + when Hector has knock'd out his brains I know not; but, I am sure, + none; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings + on. + ACHILLES. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. + THERSITES. Let me carry another to his horse; for that's the more + capable creature. + ACHILLES. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; + And I myself see not the bottom of it. + Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS + THERSITES. Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I + might water an ass at it. I had rather be a tick in a sheep than + such a valiant ignorance. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 1. +Troy. A street + +Enter, at one side, AENEAS, and servant with a torch; at another, +PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES the Grecian, and others, with torches + + PARIS. See, ho! Who is that there? + DEIPHOBUS. It is the Lord Aeneas. + AENEAS. Is the Prince there in person? + Had I so good occasion to lie long + As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business + Should rob my bed-mate of my company. + DIOMEDES. That's my mind too. Good morrow, Lord Aeneas. + PARIS. A valiant Greek, Aeneas -take his hand: + Witness the process of your speech, wherein + You told how Diomed, a whole week by days, + Did haunt you in the field. + AENEAS. Health to you, valiant sir, + During all question of the gentle truce; + But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance + As heart can think or courage execute. + DIOMEDES. The one and other Diomed embraces. + Our bloods are now in calm; and so long health! + But when contention and occasion meet, + By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life + With all my force, pursuit, and policy. + AENEAS. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly + With his face backward. In humane gentleness, + Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life, + Welcome indeed! By Venus' hand I swear + No man alive can love in such a sort + The thing he means to kill, more excellently. + DIOMEDES. We sympathise. Jove let Aeneas live, + If to my sword his fate be not the glory, + A thousand complete courses of the sun! + But in mine emulous honour let him die + With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow! + AENEAS. We know each other well. + DIOMEDES.We do; and long to know each other worse. + PARIS. This is the most despiteful'st gentle greeting + The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. + What business, lord, so early? + AENEAS. I was sent for to the King; but why, I know not. + PARIS. His purpose meets you: 'twas to bring this Greek + To Calchas' house, and there to render him, + For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid. + Let's have your company; or, if you please, + Haste there before us. I constantly believe- + Or rather call my thought a certain knowledge- + My brother Troilus lodges there to-night. + Rouse him and give him note of our approach, + With the whole quality wherefore; I fear + We shall be much unwelcome. + AENEAS. That I assure you: + Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece + Than Cressid borne from Troy. + PARIS. There is no help; + The bitter disposition of the time + Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you. + AENEAS. Good morrow, all. Exit with servant + PARIS. And tell me, noble Diomed-faith, tell me true, + Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship- + Who in your thoughts deserves fair Helen best, + Myself or Menelaus? + DIOMEDES. Both alike: + He merits well to have her that doth seek her, + Not making any scruple of her soilure, + With such a hell of pain and world of charge; + And you as well to keep her that defend her, + Not palating the taste of her dishonour, + With such a costly loss of wealth and friends. + He like a puling cuckold would drink up + The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece; + You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins + Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors. + Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more; + But he as he, the heavier for a whore. + PARIS. You are too bitter to your country-woman. + DIOMEDES. She's bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris: + For every false drop in her bawdy veins + A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple + Of her contaminated carrion weight + A Troyan hath been slain; since she could speak, + She hath not given so many good words breath + As for her Greeks and Troyans suff'red death. + PARIS. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, + Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy; + But we in silence hold this virtue well: + We'll not commend what we intend to sell. + Here lies our way. Exeunt + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 2. +Troy. The court of PANDARUS' house + +Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA + + TROILUS. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold. + CRESSIDA. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down; + He shall unbolt the gates. + TROILUS. Trouble him not; + To bed, to bed! Sleep kill those pretty eyes, + And give as soft attachment to thy senses + As infants' empty of all thought! + CRESSIDA. Good morrow, then. + TROILUS. I prithee now, to bed. + CRESSIDA. Are you aweary of me? + TROILUS. O Cressida! but that the busy day, + Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows, + And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, + I would not from thee. + CRESSIDA. Night hath been too brief. + TROILUS. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays + As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love + With wings more momentary-swift than thought. + You will catch cold, and curse me. + CRESSIDA. Prithee tarry. + You men will never tarry. + O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off, + And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up. + PANDARUS. [Within] What's all the doors open here? + TROILUS. It is your uncle. + + Enter PANDARUS + + CRESSIDA. A pestilence on him! Now will he be mocking. + I shall have such a life! + PANDARUS. How now, how now! How go maidenheads? + Here, you maid! Where's my cousin Cressid? + CRESSIDA. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle. + You bring me to do, and then you flout me too. + PANDARUS. To do what? to do what? Let her say what. + What have I brought you to do? + CRESSIDA. Come, come, beshrew your heart! You'll ne'er be good, + Nor suffer others. + PANDARUS. Ha, ha! Alas, poor wretch! a poor capocchia! hast not + slept to-night? Would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? A + bugbear take him! + CRESSIDA. Did not I tell you? Would he were knock'd i' th' head! + [One knocks] + Who's that at door? Good uncle, go and see. + My lord, come you again into my chamber. + You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily. + TROILUS. Ha! ha! + CRESSIDA. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such thing. + [Knock] + How earnestly they knock! Pray you come in: + I would not for half Troy have you seen here. + Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA + PANDARUS. Who's there? What's the matter? Will you beat down the + door? How now? What's the matter? + + Enter AENEAS + AENEAS. Good morrow, lord, good morrow. + PANDARUS. Who's there? My lord Aeneas? By my troth, + I knew you not. What news with you so early? + AENEAS. Is not Prince Troilus here? + PANDARUS. Here! What should he do here? + AENEAS. Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him. + It doth import him much to speak with me. + PANDARUS. Is he here, say you? It's more than I know, I'll be + sworn. For my own part, I came in late. What should he do here? + AENEAS. Who!-nay, then. Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are + ware; you'll be so true to him to be false to him. Do not you + know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; go. + + Re-enter TROILUS + + TROILUS. How now! What's the matter? + AENEAS. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, + My matter is so rash. There is at hand + Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, + The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor + Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith, + Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour, + We must give up to Diomedes' hand + The Lady Cressida. + TROILUS. Is it so concluded? + AENEAS. By Priam, and the general state of Troy. + They are at hand and ready to effect it. + TROILUS. How my achievements mock me! + I will go meet them; and, my lord Aeneas, + We met by chance; you did not find me here. + AENEAS. Good, good, my lord, the secrets of neighbour Pandar + Have not more gift in taciturnity. + Exeunt TROILUS and AENEAS + PANDARUS. Is't possible? No sooner got but lost? The devil take + Antenor! The young prince will go mad. A plague upon Antenor! I + would they had broke's neck. + + Re-enter CRESSIDA + + CRESSIDA. How now! What's the matter? Who was here? + PANDARUS. Ah, ah! + CRESSIDA. Why sigh you so profoundly? Where's my lord? Gone? Tell + me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? + PANDARUS. Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above! + CRESSIDA. O the gods! What's the matter? + PANDARUS. Pray thee, get thee in. Would thou hadst ne'er been born! + I knew thou wouldst be his death! O, poor gentleman! A plague + upon Antenor! + CRESSIDA. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees I beseech you, + what's the matter? + PANDARUS. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art + chang'd for Antenor; thou must to thy father, and be gone from + Troilus. 'Twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear + it. + CRESSIDA. O you immortal gods! I will not go. + PANDARUS. Thou must. + CRESSIDA. I will not, uncle. I have forgot my father; + I know no touch of consanguinity, + No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me + As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine, + Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood, + If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death, + Do to this body what extremes you can, + But the strong base and building of my love + Is as the very centre of the earth, + Drawing all things to it. I'll go in and weep- + PANDARUS. Do, do. + CRESSIDA. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks, + Crack my clear voice with sobs and break my heart, + With sounding 'Troilus.' I will not go from Troy. + Exeunt + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 3. +Troy. A street before PANDARUS' house + +Enter PARIS, TROILUS, AENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES + + PARIS. It is great morning; and the hour prefix'd + For her delivery to this valiant Greek + Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus, + Tell you the lady what she is to do + And haste her to the purpose. + TROILUS. Walk into her house. + I'll bring her to the Grecian presently; + And to his hand when I deliver her, + Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus + A priest, there off'ring to it his own heart. Exit + PARIS. I know what 'tis to love, + And would, as I shall pity, I could help! + Please you walk in, my lords. Exeunt + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 4. +Troy. PANDARUS' house + +Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA + + PANDARUS. Be moderate, be moderate. + CRESSIDA. Why tell you me of moderation? + The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, + And violenteth in a sense as strong + As that which causeth it. How can I moderate it? + If I could temporize with my affections + Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, + The like allayment could I give my grief. + My love admits no qualifying dross; + No more my grief, in such a precious loss. + + Enter TROILUS + + PANDARUS. Here, here, here he comes. Ah, sweet ducks! + CRESSIDA. O Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing him] + PANDARUS. What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too. 'O + heart,' as the goodly saying is, + O heart, heavy heart, + Why sigh'st thou without breaking? + where he answers again + Because thou canst not ease thy smart + By friendship nor by speaking. + There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we + may live to have need of such a verse. We see it, we see it. How + now, lambs! + TROILUS. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity + That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy, + More bright in zeal than the devotion which + Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me. + CRESSIDA. Have the gods envy? + PANDARUS. Ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case. + CRESSIDA. And is it true that I must go from Troy? + TROILUS. A hateful truth. + CRESSIDA. What, and from Troilus too? + TROILUS. From Troy and Troilus. + CRESSIDA. Is't possible? + TROILUS. And suddenly; where injury of chance + Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by + All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips + Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents + Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows + Even in the birth of our own labouring breath. + We two, that with so many thousand sighs + Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves + With the rude brevity and discharge of one. + Injurious time now with a robber's haste + Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how. + As many farewells as be stars in heaven, + With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them, + He fumbles up into a loose adieu, + And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, + Distasted with the salt of broken tears. + AENEAS. [Within] My lord, is the lady ready? + TROILUS. Hark! you are call'd. Some say the Genius so + Cries 'Come' to him that instantly must die. + Bid them have patience; she shall come anon. + PANDARUS. Where are my tears? Rain, to lay this wind, or my heart + will be blown up by th' root? Exit + CRESSIDA. I must then to the Grecians? + TROILUS. No remedy. + CRESSIDA. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! + When shall we see again? + TROILUS. Hear me, my love. Be thou but true of heart- + CRESSIDA. I true! how now! What wicked deem is this? + TROILUS. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, + For it is parting from us. + I speak not 'Be thou true' as fearing thee, + For I will throw my glove to Death himself + That there's no maculation in thy heart; + But 'Be thou true' say I to fashion in + My sequent protestation: be thou true, + And I will see thee. + CRESSIDA. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers + As infinite as imminent! But I'll be true. + TROILUS. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve. + CRESSIDA. And you this glove. When shall I see you? + TROILUS. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels + To give thee nightly visitation. + But yet be true. + CRESSIDA. O heavens! 'Be true' again! + TROILUS. Hear why I speak it, love. + The Grecian youths are full of quality; + They're loving, well compos'd with gifts of nature, + And flowing o'er with arts and exercise. + How novelties may move, and parts with person, + Alas, a kind of godly jealousy, + Which I beseech you call a virtuous sin, + Makes me afeard. + CRESSIDA. O heavens! you love me not. + TROILUS. Die I a villain, then! + In this I do not call your faith in question + So mainly as my merit. I cannot sing, + Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, + Nor play at subtle games-fair virtues all, + To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant; + But I can tell that in each grace of these + There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil + That tempts most cunningly. But be not tempted. + CRESSIDA. Do you think I will? + TROILUS. No. + But something may be done that we will not; + And sometimes we are devils to ourselves, + When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, + Presuming on their changeful potency. + AENEAS. [Within] Nay, good my lord! + TROILUS. Come, kiss; and let us part. + PARIS. [Within] Brother Troilus! + TROILUS. Good brother, come you hither; + And bring Aeneas and the Grecian with you. + CRESSIDA. My lord, will you be true? + TROILUS. Who, I? Alas, it is my vice, my fault! + Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, + I with great truth catch mere simplicity; + Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, + With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. + + Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, and DIOMEDES + + Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit + Is 'plain and true'; there's all the reach of it. + Welcome, Sir Diomed! Here is the lady + Which for Antenor we deliver you; + At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand, + And by the way possess thee what she is. + Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, + If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword, + Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe + As Priam is in Ilion. + DIOMEDES. Fair Lady Cressid, + So please you, save the thanks this prince expects. + The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, + Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed + You shall be mistress, and command him wholly. + TROILUS. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously + To shame the zeal of my petition to the + In praising her. I tell thee, lord of Greece, + She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises + As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant. + I charge thee use her well, even for my charge; + For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, + Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, + I'll cut thy throat. + DIOMEDES. O, be not mov'd, Prince Troilus. + Let me be privileg'd by my place and message + To be a speaker free: when I am hence + I'll answer to my lust. And know you, lord, + I'll nothing do on charge: to her own worth + She shall be priz'd. But that you say 'Be't so,' + I speak it in my spirit and honour, 'No.' + TROILUS. Come, to the port. I'll tell thee, Diomed, + This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. + Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk, + To our own selves bend we our needful talk. + Exeunt TROILUS, CRESSIDA, and DIOMEDES + [Sound trumpet] + PARIS. Hark! Hector's trumpet. + AENEAS. How have we spent this morning! + The Prince must think me tardy and remiss, + That swore to ride before him to the field. + PARIS. 'Tis Troilus' fault. Come, come to field with him. + DEIPHOBUS. Let us make ready straight. + AENEAS. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity + Let us address to tend on Hector's heels. + The glory of our Troy doth this day lie + On his fair worth and single chivalry. Exeunt + + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 5. +The Grecian camp. Lists set out + +Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, +NESTOR, and others + + AGAMEMNON. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, + Anticipating time with starting courage. + Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, + Thou dreadful Ajax, that the appalled air + May pierce the head of the great combatant, + And hale him hither. + AJAX. Thou, trumpet, there's my purse. + Now crack thy lungs and split thy brazen pipe; + Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek + Out-swell the colic of puff Aquilon'd. + Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood: + Thou blowest for Hector. [Trumpet sounds] + ULYSSES. No trumpet answers. + ACHILLES. 'Tis but early days. + + Enter DIOMEDES, with CRESSIDA + + AGAMEMNON. Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas' daughter? + ULYSSES. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait: + He rises on the toe. That spirit of his + In aspiration lifts him from the earth. + AGAMEMNON. Is this the lady Cressid? + DIOMEDES. Even she. + AGAMEMNON. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady. + NESTOR. Our general doth salute you with a kiss. + ULYSSES. Yet is the kindness but particular; + 'Twere better she were kiss'd in general. + NESTOR. And very courtly counsel: I'll begin. + So much for Nestor. + ACHILLES. I'll take that winter from your lips, fair lady. + Achilles bids you welcome. + MENELAUS. I had good argument for kissing once. + PATROCLUS. But that's no argument for kissing now; + For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment, + And parted thus you and your argument. + ULYSSES. O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns! + For which we lose our heads to gild his horns. + PATROCLUS. The first was Menelaus' kiss; this, mine- + [Kisses her again] + Patroclus kisses you. + MENELAUS. O, this is trim! + PATROCLUS. Paris and I kiss evermore for him. + MENELAUS. I'll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your leave. + CRESSIDA. In kissing, do you render or receive? + PATROCLUS. Both take and give. + CRESSIDA. I'll make my match to live, + The kiss you take is better than you give; + Therefore no kiss. + MENELAUS. I'll give you boot; I'll give you three for one. + CRESSIDA. You are an odd man; give even or give none. + MENELAUS. An odd man, lady? Every man is odd. + CRESSIDA. No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true + That you are odd, and he is even with you. + MENELAUS. You fillip me o' th' head. + CRESSIDA. No, I'll be sworn. + ULYSSES. It were no match, your nail against his horn. + May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you? + CRESSIDA. You may. + ULYSSES. I do desire it. + CRESSIDA. Why, beg then. + ULYSSES. Why then, for Venus' sake give me a kiss + When Helen is a maid again, and his. + CRESSIDA. I am your debtor; claim it when 'tis due. + ULYSSES. Never's my day, and then a kiss of you. + DIOMEDES. Lady, a word. I'll bring you to your father. + Exit with CRESSIDA + NESTOR. A woman of quick sense. + ULYSSES. Fie, fie upon her! + There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, + Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out + At every joint and motive of her body. + O these encounters so glib of tongue + That give a coasting welcome ere it comes, + And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts + To every ticklish reader! Set them down + For sluttish spoils of opportunity, + And daughters of the game. [Trumpet within] + ALL. The Troyans' trumpet. + + Enter HECTOR, armed; AENEAS, TROILUS, PARIS, HELENUS, + and other Trojans, with attendants + + AGAMEMNON. Yonder comes the troop. + AENEAS. Hail, all the state of Greece! What shall be done + To him that victory commands? Or do you purpose + A victor shall be known? Will you the knights + Shall to the edge of all extremity + Pursue each other, or shall they be divided + By any voice or order of the field? + Hector bade ask. + AGAMEMNON. Which way would Hector have it? + AENEAS. He cares not; he'll obey conditions. + ACHILLES. 'Tis done like Hector; but securely done, + A little proudly, and great deal misprizing + The knight oppos'd. + AENEAS. If not Achilles, sir, + What is your name? + ACHILLES. If not Achilles, nothing. + AENEAS. Therefore Achilles. But whate'er, know this: + In the extremity of great and little + Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector; + The one almost as infinite as all, + The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well, + And that which looks like pride is courtesy. + This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood; + In love whereof half Hector stays at home; + Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek + This blended knight, half Troyan and half Greek. + ACHILLES. A maiden battle then? O, I perceive you! + + Re-enter DIOMEDES + + AGAMEMNON. Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle knight, + Stand by our Ajax. As you and Lord ]Eneas + Consent upon the order of their fight, + So be it; either to the uttermost, + Or else a breath. The combatants being kin + Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. + [AJAX and HECTOR enter the lists] + ULYSSES. They are oppos'd already. + AGAMEMNON. What Troyan is that same that looks so heavy? + ULYSSES. The youngest son of Priam, a true knight; + Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word; + Speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue; + Not soon provok'd, nor being provok'd soon calm'd; + His heart and hand both open and both free; + For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows, + Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, + Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath; + Manly as Hector, but more dangerous; + For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes + To tender objects, but he in heat of action + Is more vindicative than jealous love. + They call him Troilus, and on him erect + A second hope as fairly built as Hector. + Thus says Aeneas, one that knows the youth + Even to his inches, and, with private soul, + Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me. + [Alarum. HECTOR and AJAX fight] + AGAMEMNON. They are in action. + NESTOR. Now, Ajax, hold thine own! + TROILUS. Hector, thou sleep'st; + Awake thee. + AGAMEMNON. His blows are well dispos'd. There, Ajax! + [Trumpets cease] + DIOMEDES. You must no more. + AENEAS. Princes, enough, so please you. + AJAX. I am not warm yet; let us fight again. + DIOMEDES. As Hector pleases. + HECTOR. Why, then will I no more. + Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son, + A cousin-german to great Priam's seed; + The obligation of our blood forbids + A gory emulation 'twixt us twain: + Were thy commixtion Greek and Troyan so + That thou could'st say 'This hand is Grecian all, + And this is Troyan; the sinews of this leg + All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood + Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister + Bounds in my father's'; by Jove multipotent, + Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member + Wherein my sword had not impressure made + Of our rank feud; but the just gods gainsay + That any drop thou borrow'dst from thy mother, + My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword + Be drained! Let me embrace thee, Ajax. + By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms; + Hector would have them fall upon him thus. + Cousin, all honour to thee! + AJAX. I thank thee, Hector. + Thou art too gentle and too free a man. + I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence + A great addition earned in thy death. + HECTOR. Not Neoptolemus so mirable, + On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st Oyes + Cries 'This is he' could promise to himself + A thought of added honour torn from Hector. + AENEAS. There is expectance here from both the sides + What further you will do. + HECTOR. We'll answer it: + The issue is embracement. Ajax, farewell. + AJAX. If I might in entreaties find success, + As seld I have the chance, I would desire + My famous cousin to our Grecian tents. + DIOMEDES. 'Tis Agamemnon's wish; and great Achilles + Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector. + HECTOR. Aeneas, call my brother Troilus to me, + And signify this loving interview + To the expecters of our Troyan part; + Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin; + I will go eat with thee, and see your knights. + + AGAMEMNON and the rest of the Greeks come forward + + AJAX. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here. + HECTOR. The worthiest of them tell me name by name; + But for Achilles, my own searching eyes + Shall find him by his large and portly size. + AGAMEMNON.Worthy all arms! as welcome as to one + That would be rid of such an enemy. + But that's no welcome. Understand more clear, + What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks + And formless ruin of oblivion; + But in this extant moment, faith and troth, + Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing, + Bids thee with most divine integrity, + From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome. + HECTOR. I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon. + AGAMEMNON. [To Troilus] My well-fam'd lord of Troy, no less to you. + MENELAUS. Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting. + You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither. + HECTOR. Who must we answer? + AENEAS. The noble Menelaus. + HECTOR. O you, my lord? By Mars his gauntlet, thanks! + Mock not that I affect the untraded oath; + Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove. + She's well, but bade me not commend her to you. + MENELAUS. Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly theme. + HECTOR. O, pardon; I offend. + NESTOR. I have, thou gallant Troyan, seen thee oft, + Labouring for destiny, make cruel way + Through ranks of Greekish youth; and I have seen thee, + As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, + Despising many forfeits and subduements, + When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' th' air, + Not letting it decline on the declined; + That I have said to some my standers-by + 'Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!' + And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath, + When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in, + Like an Olympian wrestling. This have I seen; + But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, + I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire, + And once fought with him. He was a soldier good, + But, by great Mars, the captain of us all, + Never like thee. O, let an old man embrace thee; + And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. + AENEAS. 'Tis the old Nestor. + HECTOR. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, + That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time. + Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee. + NESTOR. I would my arms could match thee in contention + As they contend with thee in courtesy. + HECTOR. I would they could. + NESTOR. Ha! + By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow. + Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time. + ULYSSES. I wonder now how yonder city stands, + When we have here her base and pillar by us. + HECTOR. I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, well. + Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Troyan dead, + Since first I saw yourself and Diomed + In Ilion on your Greekish embassy. + ULYSSES. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue. + My prophecy is but half his journey yet; + For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, + Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, + Must kiss their own feet. + HECTOR. I must not believe you. + There they stand yet; and modestly I think + The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost + A drop of Grecian blood. The end crowns all; + And that old common arbitrator, Time, + Will one day end it. + ULYSSES. So to him we leave it. + Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome. + After the General, I beseech you next + To feast with me and see me at my tent. + ACHILLES. I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, thou! + Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; + I have with exact view perus'd thee, Hector, + And quoted joint by joint. + HECTOR. Is this Achilles? + ACHILLES. I am Achilles. + HECTOR. Stand fair, I pray thee; let me look on thee. + ACHILLES. Behold thy fill. + HECTOR. Nay, I have done already. + ACHILLES. Thou art too brief. I will the second time, + As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb. + HECTOR. O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er; + But there's more in me than thou understand'st. + Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? + ACHILLES. Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body + Shall I destroy him? Whether there, or there, or there? + That I may give the local wound a name, + And make distinct the very breach whereout + Hector's great spirit flew. Answer me, heavens. + HECTOR. It would discredit the blest gods, proud man, + To answer such a question. Stand again. + Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly + As to prenominate in nice conjecture + Where thou wilt hit me dead? + ACHILLES. I tell thee yea. + HECTOR. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, + I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well; + For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there; + But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm, + I'll kill thee everywhere, yea, o'er and o'er. + You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag. + His insolence draws folly from my lips; + But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words, + Or may I never- + AJAX. Do not chafe thee, cousin; + And you, Achilles, let these threats alone + Till accident or purpose bring you to't. + You may have every day enough of Hector, + If you have stomach. The general state, I fear, + Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him. + HECTOR. I pray you let us see you in the field; + We have had pelting wars since you refus'd + The Grecians' cause. + ACHILLES. Dost thou entreat me, Hector? + To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death; + To-night all friends. + HECTOR. Thy hand upon that match. + AGAMEMNON. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent; + There in the full convive we; afterwards, + As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall + Concur together, severally entreat him. + Beat loud the tambourines, let the trumpets blow, + That this great soldier may his welcome know. + Exeunt all but TROILUS and ULYSSES + TROILUS. My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, + In what place of the field doth Calchas keep? + ULYSSES. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus. + There Diomed doth feast with him to-night, + Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth, + But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view + On the fair Cressid. + TROILUS. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much, + After we part from Agamemnon's tent, + To bring me thither? + ULYSSES. You shall command me, sir. + As gentle tell me of what honour was + This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there + That wails her absence? + TROILUS. O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars + A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? + She was belov'd, she lov'd; she is, and doth; + But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1. +The Grecian camp. Before the tent of ACHILLES + +Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS + + ACHILLES. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, + Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow. + Patroclus, let us feast him to the height. + PATROCLUS. Here comes Thersites. + + Enter THERSITES + + ACHILLES. How now, thou core of envy! + Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news? + THERSITES. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of + idiot worshippers, here's a letter for thee. + ACHILLES. From whence, fragment? + THERSITES. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy. + PATROCLUS. Who keeps the tent now? + THERSITES. The surgeon's box or the patient's wound. + PATROCLUS. Well said, Adversity! and what needs these tricks? + THERSITES. Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk; thou + art said to be Achilles' male varlet. + PATROCLUS. Male varlet, you rogue! What's that? + THERSITES. Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases of + the south, the guts-griping ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel + in the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten + livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, + limekilns i' th' palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee- + simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous + discoveries! + PATROCLUS. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou + to curse thus? + THERSITES. Do I curse thee? + PATROCLUS. Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson + indistinguishable cur, no. + THERSITES. No! Why art thou, then, exasperate, thou idle immaterial + skein of sleid silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, + thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is + pest'red with such water-flies-diminutives of nature! + PATROCLUS. Out, gall! + THERSITES. Finch egg! + ACHILLES. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite + From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle. + Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba, + A token from her daughter, my fair love, + Both taxing me and gaging me to keep + An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it. + Fall Greeks; fail fame; honour or go or stay; + My major vow lies here, this I'll obey. + Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent; + This night in banqueting must all be spent. + Away, Patroclus! Exit with PATROCLUS + THERSITES. With too much blood and too little brain these two may + run mad; but, if with too much brain and to little blood they do, + I'll be a curer of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow + enough, and one that loves quails, but he has not so much brain + as ear-wax; and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his + brother, the bull, the primitive statue and oblique memorial of + cuckolds, a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his + brother's leg-to what form but that he is, should wit larded with + malice, and malice forced with wit, turn him to? To an ass, were + nothing: he is both ass and ox. To an ox, were nothing: he is both + ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a + lizard, an owl, a put-tock, or a herring without a roe, I would + not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny. + Ask me not what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care + not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus. Hey-day! + sprites and fires! + + Enter HECTOR, TROILUS, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, + NESTOR, MENELAUS, and DIOMEDES, with lights + + AGAMEMNON. We go wrong, we go wrong. + AJAX. No, yonder 'tis; + There, where we see the lights. + HECTOR. I trouble you. + AJAX. No, not a whit. + + Re-enter ACHILLES + + ULYSSES. Here comes himself to guide you. + ACHILLES. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, Princes all. + AGAMEMNON. So now, fair Prince of Troy, I bid good night; + Ajax commands the guard to tend on you. + HECTOR. Thanks, and good night to the Greeks' general. + MENELAUS. Good night, my lord. + HECTOR. Good night, sweet Lord Menelaus. + THERSITES. Sweet draught! 'Sweet' quoth 'a? + Sweet sink, sweet sewer! + ACHILLES. Good night and welcome, both at once, to those + That go or tarry. + AGAMEMNON. Good night. + Exeunt AGAMEMNON and MENELAUS + ACHILLES. Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed, + Keep Hector company an hour or two. + DIOMEDES. I cannot, lord; I have important business, + The tide whereof is now. Good night, great Hector. + HECTOR. Give me your hand. + ULYSSES. [Aside to TROILUS] Follow his torch; he goes to + Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company. + TROILUS. Sweet sir, you honour me. + HECTOR. And so, good night. + Exit DIOMEDES; ULYSSES and TROILUS following + ACHILLES. Come, come, enter my tent. + Exeunt all but THERSITES + THERSITES. That same Diomed's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust + knave; I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a + serpent when he hisses. He will spend his mouth and promise, like + Brabbler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretell + it: it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun + borrows of the moon when Diomed keeps his word. I will rather + leave to see Hector than not to dog him. They say he keeps a + Troyan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent. I'll after. + Nothing but lechery! All incontinent varlets! Exit + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 2. +The Grecian camp. Before CALCHAS' tent + +Enter DIOMEDES + + DIOMEDES. What, are you up here, ho? Speak. + CALCHAS. [Within] Who calls? + DIOMEDES. Diomed. Calchas, I think. Where's your daughter? + CALCHAS. [Within] She comes to you. + + Enter TROILUS and ULYSSES, at a distance; after them + THERSITES + + ULYSSES. Stand where the torch may not discover us. + + Enter CRESSIDA + + TROILUS. Cressid comes forth to him. + DIOMEDES. How now, my charge! + CRESSIDA. Now, my sweet guardian! Hark, a word with you. +[Whispers] + TROILUS. Yea, so familiar! + ULYSSES. She will sing any man at first sight. + THERSITES. And any man may sing her, if he can take her cliff; + she's noted. + DIOMEDES. Will you remember? + CRESSIDA. Remember? Yes. + DIOMEDES. Nay, but do, then; + And let your mind be coupled with your words. + TROILUS. What shall she remember? + ULYSSES. List! + CRESSIDA. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly. + THERSITES. Roguery! + DIOMEDES. Nay, then- + CRESSIDA. I'll tell you what- + DIOMEDES. Fo, fo! come, tell a pin; you are a forsworn- + CRESSIDA. In faith, I cannot. What would you have me do? + THERSITES. A juggling trick, to be secretly open. + DIOMEDES. What did you swear you would bestow on me? + CRESSIDA. I prithee, do not hold me to mine oath; + Bid me do anything but that, sweet Greek. + DIOMEDES. Good night. + TROILUS. Hold, patience! + ULYSSES. How now, Troyan! + CRESSIDA. Diomed! + DIOMEDES. No, no, good night; I'll be your fool no more. + TROILUS. Thy better must. + CRESSIDA. Hark! a word in your ear. + TROILUS. O plague and madness! + ULYSSES. You are moved, Prince; let us depart, I pray, + Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself + To wrathful terms. This place is dangerous; + The time right deadly; I beseech you, go. + TROILUS. Behold, I pray you. + ULYSSES. Nay, good my lord, go off; + You flow to great distraction; come, my lord. + TROILUS. I prithee stay. + ULYSSES. You have not patience; come. + TROILUS. I pray you, stay; by hell and all hell's torments, + I will not speak a word. + DIOMEDES. And so, good night. + CRESSIDA. Nay, but you part in anger. + TROILUS. Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth! + ULYSSES. How now, my lord? + TROILUS. By Jove, I will be patient. + CRESSIDA. Guardian! Why, Greek! + DIOMEDES. Fo, fo! adieu! you palter. + CRESSIDA. In faith, I do not. Come hither once again. + ULYSSES. You shake, my lord, at something; will you go? + You will break out. + TROILUS. She strokes his cheek. + ULYSSES. Come, come. + TROILUS. Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word: + There is between my will and all offences + A guard of patience. Stay a little while. + THERSITES. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump and potato + finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry! + DIOMEDES. But will you, then? + CRESSIDA. In faith, I will, lo; never trust me else. + DIOMEDES. Give me some token for the surety of it. + CRESSIDA. I'll fetch you one. Exit + ULYSSES. You have sworn patience. + TROILUS. Fear me not, my lord; + I will not be myself, nor have cognition + Of what I feel. I am all patience. + + Re-enter CRESSIDA + + THERSITES. Now the pledge; now, now, now! + CRESSIDA. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve. + TROILUS. O beauty! where is thy faith? + ULYSSES. My lord! + TROILUS. I will be patient; outwardly I will. + CRESSIDA. You look upon that sleeve; behold it well. + He lov'd me-O false wench!-Give't me again. + DIOMEDES. Whose was't? + CRESSIDA. It is no matter, now I ha't again. + I will not meet with you to-morrow night. + I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more. + THERSITES. Now she sharpens. Well said, whetstone. + DIOMEDES. I shall have it. + CRESSIDA. What, this? + DIOMEDES. Ay, that. + CRESSIDA. O all you gods! O pretty, pretty pledge! + Thy master now lies thinking on his bed + Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove, + And gives memorial dainty kisses to it, + As I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me; + He that takes that doth take my heart withal. + DIOMEDES. I had your heart before; this follows it. + TROILUS. I did swear patience. + CRESSIDA. You shall not have it, Diomed; faith, you shall not; + I'll give you something else. + DIOMEDES. I will have this. Whose was it? + CRESSIDA. It is no matter. + DIOMEDES. Come, tell me whose it was. + CRESSIDA. 'Twas one's that lov'd me better than you will. + But, now you have it, take it. + DIOMEDES. Whose was it? + CRESSIDA. By all Diana's waiting women yond, + And by herself, I will not tell you whose. + DIOMEDES. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm, + And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it. + TROILUS. Wert thou the devil and wor'st it on thy horn, + It should be challeng'd. + CRESSIDA. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past; and yet it is not; + I will not keep my word. + DIOMEDES. Why, then farewell; + Thou never shalt mock Diomed again. + CRESSIDA. You shall not go. One cannot speak a word + But it straight starts you. + DIOMEDES. I do not like this fooling. + THERSITES. Nor I, by Pluto; but that that likes not you + Pleases me best. + DIOMEDES. What, shall I come? The hour- + CRESSIDA. Ay, come-O Jove! Do come. I shall be plagu'd. + DIOMEDES. Farewell till then. + CRESSIDA. Good night. I prithee come. Exit DIOMEDES + Troilus, farewell! One eye yet looks on thee; + But with my heart the other eye doth see. + Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find, + The error of our eye directs our mind. + What error leads must err; O, then conclude, + Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude. Exit + THERSITES. A proof of strength she could not publish more, + Unless she said 'My mind is now turn'd whore.' + ULYSSES. All's done, my lord. + TROILUS. It is. + ULYSSES. Why stay we, then? + TROILUS. To make a recordation to my soul + Of every syllable that here was spoke. + But if I tell how these two did coact, + Shall I not lie in publishing a truth? + Sith yet there is a credence in my heart, + An esperance so obstinately strong, + That doth invert th' attest of eyes and ears; + As if those organs had deceptious functions + Created only to calumniate. + Was Cressid here? + ULYSSES. I cannot conjure, Troyan. + TROILUS. She was not, sure. + ULYSSES. Most sure she was. + TROILUS. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness. + ULYSSES. Nor mine, my lord. Cressid was here but now. + TROILUS. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood. + Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage + To stubborn critics, apt, without a theme, + For depravation, to square the general sex + By Cressid's rule. Rather think this not Cressid. + ULYSSES. What hath she done, Prince, that can soil our mothers? + TROILUS. Nothing at all, unless that this were she. + THERSITES. Will 'a swagger himself out on's own eyes? + TROILUS. This she? No; this is Diomed's Cressida. + If beauty have a soul, this is not she; + If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies, + If sanctimony be the god's delight, + If there be rule in unity itself, + This was not she. O madness of discourse, + That cause sets up with and against itself! + Bifold authority! where reason can revolt + Without perdition, and loss assume all reason + Without revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid. + Within my soul there doth conduce a fight + Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate + Divides more wider than the sky and earth; + And yet the spacious breadth of this division + Admits no orifex for a point as subtle + As Ariachne's broken woof to enter. + Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates: + Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven. + Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself: + The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and loos'd; + And with another knot, five-finger-tied, + The fractions of her faith, orts of her love, + The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy relics + Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed. + ULYSSES. May worthy Troilus be half-attach'd + With that which here his passion doth express? + TROILUS. Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well + In characters as red as Mars his heart + Inflam'd with Venus. Never did young man fancy + With so eternal and so fix'd a soul. + Hark, Greek: as much as I do Cressid love, + So much by weight hate I her Diomed. + That sleeve is mine that he'll bear on his helm; + Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill + My sword should bite it. Not the dreadful spout + Which shipmen do the hurricano call, + Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun, + Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear + In his descent than shall my prompted sword + Falling on Diomed. + THERSITES. He'll tickle it for his concupy. + TROILUS. O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false! + Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, + And they'll seem glorious. + ULYSSES. O, contain yourself; + Your passion draws ears hither. + + Enter AENEAS + + AENEAS. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord. + Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy; + Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home. + TROILUS. Have with you, Prince. My courteous lord, adieu. + Fairwell, revolted fair!-and, Diomed, + Stand fast and wear a castle on thy head. + ULYSSES. I'll bring you to the gates. + TROILUS. Accept distracted thanks. + + Exeunt TROILUS, AENEAS. and ULYSSES + + THERSITES. Would I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would croak like + a raven; I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me + anything for the intelligence of this whore; the parrot will not + do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab. Lechery, + lechery! Still wars and lechery! Nothing else holds fashion. A + burning devil take them! Exit + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 3. +Troy. Before PRIAM'S palace + +Enter HECTOR and ANDROMACHE + + ANDROMACHE. When was my lord so much ungently temper'd + To stop his ears against admonishment? + Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day. + HECTOR. You train me to offend you; get you in. + By all the everlasting gods, I'll go. + ANDROMACHE. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day. + HECTOR. No more, I say. + + Enter CASSANDRA + + CASSANDRA. Where is my brother Hector? + ANDROMACHE. Here, sister, arm'd, and bloody in intent. + Consort with me in loud and dear petition, + Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt + Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night + Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter. + CASSANDRA. O, 'tis true! + HECTOR. Ho! bid my trumpet sound. + CASSANDRA. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother! + HECTOR. Be gone, I say. The gods have heard me swear. + CASSANDRA. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows; + They are polluted off'rings, more abhorr'd + Than spotted livers in the sacrifice. + ANDROMACHE. O, be persuaded! Do not count it holy + To hurt by being just. It is as lawful, + For we would give much, to use violent thefts + And rob in the behalf of charity. + CASSANDRA. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; + But vows to every purpose must not hold. + Unarm, sweet Hector. + HECTOR. Hold you still, I say. + Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate. + Life every man holds dear; but the dear man + Holds honour far more precious dear than life. + + Enter TROILUS + + How now, young man! Mean'st thou to fight to-day? + ANDROMACHE. Cassandra, call my father to persuade. + Exit CASSANDRA + HECTOR. No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth; + I am to-day i' th' vein of chivalry. + Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong, + And tempt not yet the brushes of the war. + Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave boy, + I'll stand to-day for thee and me and Troy. + TROILUS. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you + Which better fits a lion than a man. + HECTOR. What vice is that, good Troilus? + Chide me for it. + TROILUS. When many times the captive Grecian falls, + Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, + You bid them rise and live. + HECTOR. O, 'tis fair play! + TROILUS. Fool's play, by heaven, Hector. + HECTOR. How now! how now! + TROILUS. For th' love of all the gods, + Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mother; + And when we have our armours buckled on, + The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords, + Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth! + HECTOR. Fie, savage, fie! + TROILUS. Hector, then 'tis wars. + HECTOR. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day. + TROILUS. Who should withhold me? + Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars + Beck'ning with fiery truncheon my retire; + Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees, + Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears; + Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn, + Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way, + But by my ruin. + + Re-enter CASSANDRA, with PRIAM + + CASSANDRA. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast; + He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay, + Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, + Fall all together. + PRIAM. Come, Hector, come, go back. + Thy wife hath dreamt; thy mother hath had visions; + Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself + Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt + To tell thee that this day is ominous. + Therefore, come back. + HECTOR. Aeneas is a-field; + And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks, + Even in the faith of valour, to appear + This morning to them. + PRIAM. Ay, but thou shalt not go. + HECTOR. I must not break my faith. + You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir, + Let me not shame respect; but give me leave + To take that course by your consent and voice + Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam. + CASSANDRA. O Priam, yield not to him! + ANDROMACHE. Do not, dear father. + HECTOR. Andromache, I am offended with you. + Upon the love you bear me, get you in. + Exit ANDROMACHE + TROILUS. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl + Makes all these bodements. + CASSANDRA. O, farewell, dear Hector! + Look how thou diest. Look how thy eye turns pale. + Look how thy wounds do bleed at many vents. + Hark how Troy roars; how Hecuba cries out; + How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth; + Behold distraction, frenzy, and amazement, + Like witless antics, one another meet, + And all cry, Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector! + TROILUS. Away, away! + CASSANDRA. Farewell!-yet, soft! Hector, I take my leave. + Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. Exit + HECTOR. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaim. + Go in, and cheer the town; we'll forth, and fight, + Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night. + PRIAM. Farewell. The gods with safety stand about thee! + Exeunt severally PRIAM and HECTOR. Alarums + TROILUS. They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe, + I come to lose my arm or win my sleeve. + + Enter PANDARUS + + PANDARUS. Do you hear, my lord? Do you hear? + TROILUS. What now? + PANDARUS. Here's a letter come from yond poor girl. + TROILUS. Let me read. + PANDARUS. A whoreson tisick, a whoreson rascally tisick so troubles + me, and the foolish fortune of this girl, and what one thing, + what another, that I shall leave you one o' th's days; and I have + a rheum in mine eyes too, and such an ache in my bones that + unless a man were curs'd I cannot tell what to think on't. What + says she there? + TROILUS. Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart; + Th' effect doth operate another way. + [Tearing the letter] + Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together. + My love with words and errors still she feeds, + But edifies another with her deeds. Exeunt severally + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 4. +The plain between Troy and the Grecian camp + +Enter THERSITES. Excursions + + THERSITES. Now they are clapper-clawing one another; I'll go look + on. That dissembling abominable varlet, Diomed, has got that same + scurvy doting foolish young knave's sleeve of Troy there in his + helm. I would fain see them meet, that that same young Troyan ass + that loves the whore there might send that Greekish whoremasterly + villain with the sleeve back to the dissembling luxurious drab of + a sleeve-less errand. A th' t'other side, the policy of those + crafty swearing rascals-that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese, + Nestor, and that same dog-fox, Ulysses -is not prov'd worth a + blackberry. They set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, + against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles; and now is the cur, + Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm to-day; + whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism, and policy + grows into an ill opinion. + + Enter DIOMEDES, TROILUS following + + Soft! here comes sleeve, and t'other. + TROILUS. Fly not; for shouldst thou take the river Styx + I would swim after. + DIOMEDES. Thou dost miscall retire. + I do not fly; but advantageous care + Withdrew me from the odds of multitude. + Have at thee. + THERSITES. Hold thy whore, Grecian; now for thy whore, + Troyan-now the sleeve, now the sleeve! + Exeunt TROILUS and DIOMEDES fighting + + Enter HECTOR + + HECTOR. What art thou, Greek? Art thou for Hector's match? + Art thou of blood and honour? + THERSITES. No, no-I am a rascal; a scurvy railing knave; a very + filthy rogue. + HECTOR. I do believe thee. Live. Exit + THERSITES. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague + break thy neck for frighting me! What's become of the wenching + rogues? I think they have swallowed one another. I would laugh at + that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. I'll seek + them. Exit + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 5. +Another part of the plain + +Enter DIOMEDES and A SERVANT + + DIOMEDES. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse; + Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid. + Fellow, commend my service to her beauty; + Tell her I have chastis'd the amorous Troyan, + And am her knight by proof. + SERVANT. I go, my lord. Exit + + Enter AGAMEMNON + + AGAMEMNON. Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamus + Hath beat down enon; bastard Margarelon + Hath Doreus prisoner, + And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam, + Upon the pashed corses of the kings + Epistrophus and Cedius. Polixenes is slain; + Amphimacus and Thoas deadly hurt; + Patroclus ta'en, or slain; and Palamedes + Sore hurt and bruis'd. The dreadful Sagittary + Appals our numbers. Haste we, Diomed, + To reinforcement, or we perish all. + + Enter NESTOR + + NESTOR. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles, + And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame. + There is a thousand Hectors in the field; + Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, + And there lacks work; anon he's there afoot, + And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls + Before the belching whale; then is he yonder, + And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, + Fall down before him like the mower's swath. + Here, there, and everywhere, he leaves and takes; + Dexterity so obeying appetite + That what he will he does, and does so much + That proof is call'd impossibility. + + Enter ULYSSES + + ULYSSES. O, courage, courage, courage, Princes! Great + Achilles Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance. + Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood, + Together with his mangled Myrmidons, + That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come to + him, Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend + And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd and at it, + Roaring for Troilus; who hath done to-day + Mad and fantastic execution, + Engaging and redeeming of himself + With such a careless force and forceless care + As if that luck, in very spite of cunning, + Bade him win all. + + Enter AJAX + + AJAX. Troilus! thou coward Troilus! Exit + DIOMEDES. Ay, there, there. + NESTOR. So, so, we draw together. Exit + Enter ACHILLES + + ACHILLES. Where is this Hector? + Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face; + Know what it is to meet Achilles angry. + Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hector. Exeunt + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 6. +Another part of the plain + +Enter AJAX + + AJAX. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy head. + + Enter DIOMEDES + + DIOMEDES. Troilus, I say! Where's Troilus? + AJAX. What wouldst thou? + DIOMEDES. I would correct him. + AJAX. Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office + Ere that correction. Troilus, I say! What, Troilus! + + Enter TROILUS + + TROILUS. O traitor Diomed! Turn thy false face, thou traitor, + And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse. + DIOMEDES. Ha! art thou there? + AJAX. I'll fight with him alone. Stand, Diomed. + DIOMEDES. He is my prize. I will not look upon. + TROILUS. Come, both, you cogging Greeks; have at you + Exeunt fighting + + Enter HECTOR + + HECTOR. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my youngest brother! + + Enter ACHILLES + + ACHILLES. Now do I see thee, ha! Have at thee, Hector! + HECTOR. Pause, if thou wilt. + ACHILLES. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Troyan. + Be happy that my arms are out of use; + My rest and negligence befriends thee now, + But thou anon shalt hear of me again; + Till when, go seek thy fortune. Exit + HECTOR. Fare thee well. + I would have been much more a fresher man, + Had I expected thee. + + Re-enter TROILUS + + How now, my brother! + TROILUS. Ajax hath ta'en Aeneas. Shall it be? + No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven, + He shall not carry him; I'll be ta'en too, + Or bring him off. Fate, hear me what I say: + I reck not though thou end my life to-day. Exit + + Enter one in armour + + HECTOR. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a goodly mark. + No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well; + I'll frush it and unlock the rivets all + But I'll be master of it. Wilt thou not, beast, abide? + Why then, fly on; I'll hunt thee for thy hide. Exeunt + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 7. +Another part of the plain + +Enter ACHILLES, with Myrmidons + + ACHILLES. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons; + Mark what I say. Attend me where I wheel; + Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath; + And when I have the bloody Hector found, + Empale him with your weapons round about; + In fellest manner execute your arms. + Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye. + It is decreed Hector the great must die. Exeunt + + Enter MENELAUS and PARIS, fighting; then THERSITES + + THERSITES. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it. Now, bull! + now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now my double-horn'd Spartan! 'loo, + Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game. Ware horns, ho! + Exeunt PARIS and MENELAUS + + Enter MARGARELON + + MARGARELON. Turn, slave, and fight. + THERSITES. What art thou? + MARGARELON. A bastard son of Priam's. + THERSITES. I am a bastard too; I love bastards. I am a bastard + begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in + everything illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and + wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most + ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts + judgment. Farewell, bastard. + Exit + MARGARELON. The devil take thee, coward! Exit + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 8. +Another part of the plain + +Enter HECTOR + + HECTOR. Most putrified core so fair without, + Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. + Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath: + Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death! + [Disarms] + + Enter ACHILLES and his Myrmidons + + ACHILLES. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; + How ugly night comes breathing at his heels; + Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun, + To close the day up, Hector's life is done. + HECTOR. I am unarm'd; forego this vantage, Greek. + ACHILLES. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek. + [HECTOR falls] + So, Ilion, fall thou next! Come, Troy, sink down; + Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. + On, Myrmidons, and cry you an amain + 'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.' + [A retreat sounded] + Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part. + MYRMIDON. The Troyan trumpets sound the like, my lord. + ACHILLES. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth + And, stickler-like, the armies separates. + My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed, + Pleas'd with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed. + [Sheathes his sword] + Come, tie his body to my horse's tail; + Along the field I will the Troyan trail. Exeunt + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 9. +Another part of the plain + +Sound retreat. Shout. Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, +and the rest, marching + + AGAMEMNON. Hark! hark! what shout is this? + NESTOR. Peace, drums! + SOLDIERS. [Within] Achilles! Achilles! Hector's slain. Achilles! + DIOMEDES. The bruit is Hector's slain, and by Achilles. + AJAX. If it be so, yet bragless let it be; + Great Hector was as good a man as he. + AGAMEMNON. March patiently along. Let one be sent + To pray Achilles see us at our tent. + If in his death the gods have us befriended; + Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended. + Exeunt + + + + +ACT V. SCENE 10. +Another part of the plain + +Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, and DEIPHOBUS + + AENEAS. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field. + Never go home; here starve we out the night. + + Enter TROILUS + + TROILUS. Hector is slain. + ALL. Hector! The gods forbid! + TROILUS. He's dead, and at the murderer's horse's tail, + In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field. + Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed. + Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy. + I say at once let your brief plagues be mercy, + And linger not our sure destructions on. + AENEAS. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. + TROILUS. You understand me not that tell me so. + I do not speak of flight, of fear of death, + But dare all imminence that gods and men + Address their dangers in. Hector is gone. + Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba? + Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd + Go in to Troy, and say there 'Hector's dead.' + There is a word will Priam turn to stone; + Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, + Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word, + Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away; + Hector is dead; there is no more to say. + Stay yet. You vile abominable tents, + Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, + Let Titan rise as early as he dare, + I'll through and through you. And, thou great-siz'd coward, + No space of earth shall sunder our two hates; + I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, + That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts. + Strike a free march to Troy. With comfort go; + Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. + + Enter PANDARUS + + PANDARUS. But hear you, hear you! + TROILUS. Hence, broker-lackey. Ignominy and shame + Pursue thy life and live aye with thy name! + Exeunt all but PANDARUS + PANDARUS. A goodly medicine for my aching bones! world! world! thus + is the poor agent despis'd! traitors and bawds, how earnestly are + you set a work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavour be + so lov'd, and the performance so loathed? What verse for it? What + instance for it? Let me see- + + Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing + Till he hath lost his honey and his sting; + And being once subdu'd in armed trail, + Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. + + Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted + cloths. As many as be here of pander's hall, + Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall; + Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, + Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. + Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade, + Some two months hence my will shall here be made. + It should be now, but that my fear is this, + Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss. + Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases, + And at that time bequeath you my diseases. Exit + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1602 + + +TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + ORSINO, Duke of Illyria + SEBASTIAN, brother of Viola + ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend of Sebastian + A SEA CAPTAIN, friend of Viola + VALENTINE, gentleman attending on the Duke + CURIO, gentleman attending on the Duke + SIR TOBY BELCH, uncle of Olivia + SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK + MALVOLIO, steward to Olivia + FABIAN, servant to Olivia + FESTE, a clown, servant to Olivia + + OLIVIA, a rich countess + VIOLA, sister of Sebastian + MARIA, Olivia's waiting woman + + Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and Attendants + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +A city in Illyria; and the sea-coast near it + + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +The DUKE'S palace + +Enter ORSINO, Duke of Illyria, CURIO, and other LORDS; MUSICIANS attending + + DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on, + Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, + The appetite may sicken and so die. + That strain again! It had a dying fall; + O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound + That breathes upon a bank of violets, + Stealing and giving odour! Enough, no more; + 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. + O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou! + That, notwithstanding thy capacity + Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, + Of what validity and pitch soe'er, + But falls into abatement and low price + Even in a minute. So full of shapes is fancy, + That it alone is high fantastical. + CURIO. Will you go hunt, my lord? + DUKE. What, Curio? + CURIO. The hart. + DUKE. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have. + O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, + Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence! + That instant was I turn'd into a hart, + And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, + E'er since pursue me. + + Enter VALENTINE + + How now! what news from her? + VALENTINE. So please my lord, I might not be admitted, + But from her handmaid do return this answer: + The element itself, till seven years' heat, + Shall not behold her face at ample view; + But like a cloistress she will veiled walk, + And water once a day her chamber round + With eye-offending brine; all this to season + A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh + And lasting in her sad remembrance. + DUKE. O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame + To pay this debt of love but to a brother, + How will she love when the rich golden shaft + Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else + That live in her; when liver, brain, and heart, + These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and fill'd, + Her sweet perfections, with one self king! + Away before me to sweet beds of flow'rs: + Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bow'rs. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +The sea-coast + +Enter VIOLA, a CAPTAIN, and SAILORS + + VIOLA. What country, friends, is this? + CAPTAIN. This is Illyria, lady. + VIOLA. And what should I do in Illyria? + My brother he is in Elysium. + Perchance he is not drown'd- what think you, sailors? + CAPTAIN. It is perchance that you yourself were saved. + VIOLA. O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be. + CAPTAIN. True, madam, and, to comfort you with chance, + Assure yourself, after our ship did split, + When you, and those poor number saved with you, + Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, + Most provident in peril, bind himself- + Courage and hope both teaching him the practice- + To a strong mast that liv'd upon the sea; + Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, + I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves + So long as I could see. + VIOLA. For saying so, there's gold. + Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, + Whereto thy speech serves for authority, + The like of him. Know'st thou this country? + CAPTAIN. Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born + Not three hours' travel from this very place. + VIOLA. Who governs here? + CAPTAIN. A noble duke, in nature as in name. + VIOLA. What is his name? + CAPTAIN. Orsino. + VIOLA. Orsino! I have heard my father name him. + He was a bachelor then. + CAPTAIN. And so is now, or was so very late; + For but a month ago I went from hence, + And then 'twas fresh in murmur- as, you know, + What great ones do the less will prattle of- + That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. + VIOLA. What's she? + CAPTAIN. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count + That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her + In the protection of his son, her brother, + Who shortly also died; for whose dear love, + They say, she hath abjur'd the company + And sight of men. + VIOLA. O that I serv'd that lady, + And might not be delivered to the world, + Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, + What my estate is! + CAPTAIN. That were hard to compass, + Because she will admit no kind of suit- + No, not the Duke's. + VIOLA. There is a fair behaviour in thee, Captain; + And though that nature with a beauteous wall + Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee + I will believe thou hast a mind that suits + With this thy fair and outward character. + I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, + Conceal me what I am, and be my aid + For such disguise as haply shall become + The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke: + Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him; + It may be worth thy pains, for I can sing + And speak to him in many sorts of music, + That will allow me very worth his service. + What else may hap to time I will commit; + Only shape thou silence to my wit. + CAPTAIN. Be you his eunuch and your mute I'll be; + When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. + VIOLA. I thank thee. Lead me on. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +OLIVIA'S house + +Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA + + SIR TOBY. What a plague means my niece to take the death of her + brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life. + MARIA. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights; + your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. + SIR TOBY. Why, let her except before excepted. + MARIA. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits + of order. + SIR TOBY. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am. These + clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too; + an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. + MARIA. That quaffing and drinking will undo you; I heard my lady + talk of it yesterday, and of a foolish knight that you brought in + one night here to be her wooer. + SIR TOBY. Who? Sir Andrew Aguecheek? + MARIA. Ay, he. + SIR TOBY. He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. + MARIA. What's that to th' purpose? + SIR TOBY. Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. + MARIA. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats; he's a + very fool and a prodigal. + SIR TOBY. Fie that you'll say so! He plays o' th' viol-de-gamboys, + and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, + and hath all the good gifts of nature. + MARIA. He hath indeed, almost natural; for, besides that he's a + fool, he's a great quarreller; and but that he hath the gift of a + coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought + among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave. + SIR TOBY. By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that + say so of him. Who are they? + MARIA. They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. + SIR TOBY. With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her as + long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria. + He's a coward and a coystrill that will not drink to my niece + till his brains turn o' th' toe like a parish-top. What, wench! + Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface. + + Enter SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK + + AGUECHEEK. Sir Toby Belch! How now, Sir Toby Belch! + SIR TOBY. Sweet Sir Andrew! + AGUECHEEK. Bless you, fair shrew. + MARIA. And you too, sir. + SIR TOBY. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. + AGUECHEEK. What's that? + SIR TOBY. My niece's chambermaid. + AGUECHEEK. Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. + MARIA. My name is Mary, sir. + AGUECHEEK. Good Mistress Mary Accost- + SIR Toby. You mistake, knight. 'Accost' is front her, board her, + woo her, assail her. + AGUECHEEK. By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. + Is that the meaning of 'accost'? + MARIA. Fare you well, gentlemen. + SIR TOBY. An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never + draw sword again! + AGUECHEEK. An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw + sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? + MARIA. Sir, I have not you by th' hand. + AGUECHEEK. Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. + MARIA. Now, sir, thought is free. I pray you, bring your hand to + th' buttry-bar and let it drink. + AGUECHEEK. Wherefore, sweetheart? What's your metaphor? + MARIA. It's dry, sir. + AGUECHEEK. Why, I think so; I am not such an ass but I can keep my + hand dry. But what's your jest? + MARIA. A dry jest, sir. + AGUECHEEK. Are you full of them? + MARIA. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends; marry, now I let + go your hand, I am barren. Exit MARIA + SIR TOBY. O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary! When did I see + thee so put down? + AGUECHEEK. Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put + me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian + or an ordinary man has; but I am great eater of beef, and I + believe that does harm to my wit. + SIR TOBY. No question. + AGUECHEEK. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home + to-morrow, Sir Toby. + SIR TOBY. Pourquoi, my dear knight? + AGUECHEEK. What is 'pourquoi'- do or not do? I would I had bestowed + that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and + bear-baiting. Oh, had I but followed the arts! + SIR TOBY. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. + AGUECHEEK. Why, would that have mended my hair? + SIR TOBY. Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. + AGUECHEEK. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? + SIR TOBY. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff, and I hope to + see a huswife take thee between her legs and spin it off. + AGUECHEEK. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will + not be seen, or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me; + the Count himself here hard by woos her. + SIR TOBY. She'll none o' th' Count; she'll not match above her + degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her + swear't. Tut, there's life in't, man. + AGUECHEEK. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' th' strangest + mind i' th' world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes + altogether. + SIR TOBY. Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight? + AGUECHEEK. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the + degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man. + SIR TOBY. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? + AGUECHEEK. Faith, I can cut a caper. + SIR TOBY. And I can cut the mutton to't. + AGUECHEEK. And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as + any man in Illyria. + SIR TOBY. Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have these + gifts a curtain before 'em? Are they like to take dust, like + Mistress Mall's picture? Why dost thou not go to church in a + galliard and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a + jig; I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What + dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by + the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was form'd under the + star of a galliard. + AGUECHEEK. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in + flame-colour'd stock. Shall we set about some revels? + SIR TOBY. What shall we do else? Were we not born under Taurus? + AGUECHEEK. Taurus? That's sides and heart. + SIR TOBY. No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the caper. Ha, + higher! Ha, ha, excellent! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +The DUKE'S palace + +Enter VALENTINE, and VIOLA in man's attire + + VALENTINE. If the Duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, + you are like to be much advanc'd; he hath known you but three + days, and already you are no stranger. + VIOLA. You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call + in question the continuance of his love. Is he inconstant, sir, + in his favours? + VALENTINE. No, believe me. + + Enter DUKE, CURIO, and ATTENDANTS + + VIOLA. I thank you. Here comes the Count. + DUKE. Who saw Cesario, ho? + VIOLA. On your attendance, my lord, here. + DUKE. Stand you awhile aloof. Cesario, + Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd + To thee the book even of my secret soul. + Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; + Be not denied access, stand at her doors, + And tell them there thy fixed foot shall grow + Till thou have audience. + VIOLA. Sure, my noble lord, + If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow + As it is spoke, she never will admit me. + DUKE. Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds, + Rather than make unprofited return. + VIOLA. Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then? + DUKE. O, then unfold the passion of my love, + Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith! + It shall become thee well to act my woes: + She will attend it better in thy youth + Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect. + VIOLA. I think not so, my lord. + DUKE. Dear lad, believe it, + For they shall yet belie thy happy years + That say thou art a man: Diana's lip + Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe + Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, + And all is semblative a woman's part. + I know thy constellation is right apt + For this affair. Some four or five attend him- + All, if you will, for I myself am best + When least in company. Prosper well in this, + And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord + To call his fortunes thine. + VIOLA. I'll do my best + To woo your lady. [Aside] Yet, a barful strife! + Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. + + + + +SCENE V. +OLIVIA'S house + +Enter MARIA and CLOWN + + MARIA. Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open + my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse; my + lady will hang thee for thy absence. + CLOWN. Let her hang me. He that is well hang'd in this world needs + to fear no colours. + MARIA. Make that good. + CLOWN. He shall see none to fear. + MARIA. A good lenten answer. I can tell thee where that saying was + born, of 'I fear no colours.' + CLOWN. Where, good Mistress Mary? + MARIA. In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your + foolery. + CLOWN. Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are + fools, let them use their talents. + MARIA. Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent; or to be + turn'd away- is not that as good as a hanging to you? + CLOWN. Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and for turning + away, let summer bear it out. + MARIA. You are resolute, then? + CLOWN. Not so, neither; but I am resolv'd on two points. + MARIA. That if one break, the other will hold; or if both break, + your gaskins fall. + CLOWN. Apt, in good faith, very apt! Well, go thy way; if Sir Toby + would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh + as any in Illyria. + MARIA. Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my lady. Make + your excuse wisely, you were best. Exit + + Enter OLIVIA and MALVOLIO + + CLOWN. Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits + that think they have thee do very oft prove fools; and I that am + sure I lack thee may pass for a wise man. For what says + Quinapalus? 'Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.' God bless + thee, lady! + OLIVIA. Take the fool away. + CLOWN. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. + OLIVIA. Go to, y'are a dry fool; I'll no more of you. Besides, you + grow dishonest. + CLOWN. Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend; + for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry. Bid the + dishonest man mend himself: if he mend, he is no longer + dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Anything + that's mended is but patch'd; virtue that transgresses is but + patch'd with sin, and sin that amends is but patch'd with virtue. + If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, + what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so + beauty's a flower. The lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I + say again, take her away. + OLIVIA. Sir, I bade them take away you. + CLOWN. Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, 'Cucullus non facit + monachum'; that's as much to say as I wear not motley in my + brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. + OLIVIA. Can you do it? + CLOWN. Dexteriously, good madonna. + OLIVIA. Make your proof. + CLOWN. I must catechize you for it, madonna. + Good my mouse of virtue, answer me. + OLIVIA. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your + proof. + CLOWN. Good madonna, why mourn'st thou? + OLIVIA. Good fool, for my brother's death. + CLOWN. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. + OLIVIA. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. + CLOWN. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul + being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen. + OLIVIA. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? Doth he not mend? + MALVOLIO. Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him. + Infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool. + CLOWN. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better + increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; + but he will not pass his word for twopence that you are no fool. + OLIVIA. How say you to that, Malvolio? + MALVOLIO. I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren + rascal; I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool + that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of + his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, + he is gagg'd. I protest I take these wise men that crow so at + these set kind of fools no better than the fools' zanies. + OLIVIA. O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a + distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltless, and of free + disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem + cannon bullets. There is no slander in an allow'd fool, though he + do nothing but rail; nor no railing in known discreet man, though + he do nothing but reprove. + CLOWN. Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speak'st well + of fools! + + Re-enter MARIA + + MARIA. Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires + to speak with you. + OLIVIA. From the Count Orsino, is it? + MARIA. I know not, madam; 'tis a fair young man, and well attended. + OLIVIA. Who of my people hold him in delay? + MARIA. Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. + OLIVIA. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman. + Fie on him! [Exit MARIA] Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from + the Count, I am sick, or not at home- what you will to dismiss + it. [Exit MALVOLIO] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, + and people dislike it. + CLOWN. Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should + be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with brains! For- here he comes- + one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater. + + Enter SIR TOBY + + OLIVIA. By mine honour, half drunk! What is he at the gate, cousin? + SIR TOBY. A gentleman. + OLIVIA. A gentleman! What gentleman? + SIR TOBY. 'Tis a gentleman here. [Hiccups] A plague o' these + pickle-herring! How now, sot! + CLOWN. Good Sir Toby! + OLIVIA. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this + lethargy? + SIR TOBY. Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate. + OLIVIA. Ay, marry; what is he? + SIR TOBY. Let him be the devil an he will, I care not; give me + faith, say I. Well, it's all one. Exit + OLIVIA. What's a drunken man like, fool? + CLOWN. Like a drown'd man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above + heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns + him. + OLIVIA. Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my coz; + for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drown'd; go look + after him. + CLOWN. He is but mad yet, madonna, and the fool shall look to the + madman. Exit + + Re-enter MALVOLIO + + MALVOLIO. Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. I + told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, + and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were + asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and + therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, + lady? He's fortified against any denial. + OLIVIA. Tell him he shall not speak with me. + MALVOLIO. Has been told so; and he says he'll stand at your door + like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll + speak with you. + OLIVIA. What kind o' man is he? + MALVOLIO. Why, of mankind. + OLIVIA. What manner of man? + MALVOLIO. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no. + OLIVIA. Of what personage and years is he? + MALVOLIO. Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; + as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a codling when 'tis + almost an apple; 'tis with him in standing water, between boy and + man. He is very well-favour'd, and he speaks very shrewishly; one + would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him. + OLIVIA. Let him approach. Call in my gentlewoman. + MALVOLIO. Gentlewoman, my lady calls. Exit + + Re-enter MARIA + + OLIVIA. Give me my veil; come, throw it o'er my face; + We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. + + Enter VIOLA + + VIOLA. The honourable lady of the house, which is she? + OLIVIA. Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will? + VIOLA. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty- I pray you + tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her. I + would be loath to cast away my speech; for, besides that it is + excellently well penn'd, I have taken great pains to con it. Good + beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to + the least sinister usage. + OLIVIA. Whence came you, sir? + VIOLA. I can say little more than I have studied, and that + question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest + assurance if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in + my speech. + OLIVIA. Are you a comedian? + VIOLA. No, my profound heart; and yet, by the very fangs of malice + I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house? + OLIVIA. If I do not usurp myself, I am. + VIOLA. Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for + what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. But this is from + my commission. I will on with my speech in your praise, and then + show you the heart of my message. + OLIVIA. Come to what is important in't. I forgive you the praise. + VIOLA. Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical. + OLIVIA. It is the more like to be feigned; I pray you keep it in. I + heard you were saucy at my gates, and allow'd your approach + rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be + gone; if you have reason, be brief; 'tis not that time of moon + with me to make one in so skipping dialogue. + MARIA. Will you hoist sail, sir? Here lies your way. + VIOLA. No, good swabber, I am to hull here a little longer. + Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. + OLIVIA. Tell me your mind. + VIOLA. I am a messenger. + OLIVIA. Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the + courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. + VIOLA. It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no + taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my hand; my words are as + full of peace as matter. + OLIVIA. Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you? + VIOLA. The rudeness that hath appear'd in me have I learn'd from my + entertainment. What I am and what I would are as secret as + maidenhead- to your cars, divinity; to any other's, profanation. + OLIVIA. Give us the place alone; we will hear this divinity. + [Exeunt MARIA and ATTENDANTS] Now, sir, what is your text? + VIOLA. Most sweet lady- + OLIVIA. A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. + Where lies your text? + VIOLA. In Orsino's bosom. + OLIVIA. In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom? + VIOLA. To answer by the method: in the first of his heart. + OLIVIA. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have you no more to say? + VIOLA. Good madam, let me see your face. + OLIVIA. Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my + face? You are now out of your text; but we will draw the curtain + and show you the picture. [Unveiling] Look you, sir, such a one I + was this present. Is't not well done? + VIOLA. Excellently done, if God did all. + OLIVIA. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. + VIOLA. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white + Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. + Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, + If you will lead these graces to the grave, + And leave the world no copy. + OLIVIA. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out + divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be inventoried, and every + particle and utensil labell'd to my will: as- item, two lips + indifferent red; item, two grey eyes with lids to them; item, one + neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me? + VIOLA. I see you what you are: you are too proud; + But, if you were the devil, you are fair. + My lord and master loves you- O, such love + Could be but recompens'd though you were crown'd + The nonpareil of beauty! + OLIVIA. How does he love me? + VIOLA. With adorations, fertile tears, + With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. + OLIVIA. Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him. + Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, + Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; + In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, + And in dimension and the shape of nature + A gracious person; but yet I cannot love him. + He might have took his answer long ago. + VIOLA. If I did love you in my master's flame, + With such a suff'ring, such a deadly life, + In your denial I would find no sense; + I would not understand it. + OLIVIA. Why, what would you? + VIOLA. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, + And call upon my soul within the house; + Write loyal cantons of contemned love + And sing them loud even in the dead of night; + Halloo your name to the reverberate hals, + And make the babbling gossip of the air + Cry out 'Olivia!' O, you should not rest + Between the elements of air and earth + But you should pity me! + OLIVIA. You might do much. + What is your parentage? + VIOLA. Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: + I am a gentleman. + OLIVIA. Get you to your lord. + I cannot love him; let him send no more- + Unless perchance you come to me again + To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well. + I thank you for your pains; spend this for me. + VIOLA. I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse; + My master, not myself, lacks recompense. + Love make his heart of flint that you shall love; + And let your fervour, like my master's, be + Plac'd in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. Exit + OLIVIA. 'What is your parentage?' + 'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: + I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art; + Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, + Do give thee five-fold blazon. Not too fast! Soft, soft! + Unless the master were the man. How now! + Even so quickly may one catch the plague? + Methinks I feel this youth's perfections + With an invisible and subtle stealth + To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. + What ho, Malvolio! + + Re-enter MALVOLIO + + MALVOLIO. Here, madam, at your service. + OLIVIA. Run after that same peevish messenger, + The County's man. He left this ring behind him, + Would I or not. Tell him I'll none of it. + Desire him not to flatter with his lord, + Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him. + If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, + I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. + MALVOLIO. Madam, I will. Exit + OLIVIA. I do I know not what, and fear to find + Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. + Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe; + What is decreed must be; and be this so! Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +The sea-coast + +Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN + + ANTONIO. Will you stay no longer; nor will you not that I go with + you? + SEBASTIAN. By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me; the + malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I + shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It + were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you. + ANTONIO. Let me know of you whither you are bound. + SEBASTIAN. No, sooth, sir; my determinate voyage is mere + extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of + modesty that you will not extort from me what I am willing to + keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express + myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, + which I call'd Roderigo; my father was that Sebastian of + Messaline whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him + myself and a sister, both born in an hour; if the heavens had + been pleas'd, would we had so ended! But you, sir, alter'd that; + for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was + my sister drown'd. + ANTONIO. Alas the day! + SEBASTIAN. A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, + was yet of many accounted beautiful; but though I could not with + such estimable wonder overfar believe that, yet thus far I will + boldly publish her: she bore mind that envy could not but call + fair. She is drown'd already, sir, with salt water, though I seem + to drown her remembrance again with more. + ANTONIO. Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. + SEBASTIAN. O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. + ANTONIO. If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your + servant. + SEBASTIAN. If you will not undo what you have done- that is, kill + him whom you have recover'd-desire it not. Fare ye well at once; + my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of + my mother that, upon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell + tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court. Farewell. + Exit + ANTONIO. The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! + I have many cnemies in Orsino's court, + Else would I very shortly see thee there. + But come what may, I do adore thee so + That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +A street + +Enter VIOLA and MALVOLIO at several doors + + MALVOLIO. Were you not ev'n now with the Countess Olivia? + VIOLA. Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arriv'd but + hither. + MALVOLIO. She returns this ring to you, sir; you might have saved + me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, + that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will + none of him. And one thing more: that you be never so hardy to + come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's + taking of this. Receive it so. + VIOLA. She took the ring of me; I'll none of it. + MALVOLIO. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is + it should be so return'd. If it be worth stooping for, there it + lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. + Exit + VIOLA. I left no ring with her; what means this lady? + Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her! + She made good view of me; indeed, so much + That methought her eyes had lost her tongue, + For she did speak in starts distractedly. + She loves me, sure: the cunning of her passion + Invites me in this churlish messenger. + None of my lord's ring! Why, he sent her none. + I am the man. If it be so- as 'tis- + Poor lady, she were better love a dream. + Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness + Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. + How easy is it for the proper-false + In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! + Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we! + For such as we are made of, such we be. + How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly, + And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; + And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. + What will become of this? As I am man, + My state is desperate for my master's love; + As I am woman- now alas the day!- + What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe! + O Time, thou must untangle this, not I; + It is too hard a knot for me t' untie! Exit + + + + +SCENE III. +OLIVIA'S house + +Enter SIR TOBY and SIR ANDREW + + SIR TOBY. Approach, Sir Andrew. Not to be abed after midnight is to + be up betimes; and 'diluculo surgere' thou know'st- + AGUECHEEK. Nay, by my troth, I know not; but I know to be up late + is to be up late. + SIR TOBY. A false conclusion! I hate it as an unfill'd can. To be + up after midnight and to go to bed then is early; so that to go + to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does not our lives + consist of the four elements? + AGUECHEEK. Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of + eating and drinking. + SIR TOBY. Th'art a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. + Marian, I say! a stoup of wine. + + Enter CLOWN + + AGUECHEEK. Here comes the fool, i' faith. + CLOWN. How now, my hearts! Did you never see the picture of 'we + three'? + SIR TOBY. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. + AGUECHEEK. By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had + rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a + breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very + gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of Pigrogromitus, + of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very + good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman; hadst it? + CLOWN. I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no + whipstock. My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no + bottle-ale houses. + AGUECHEEK. Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling, when all is + done. Now, a song. + SIR TOBY. Come on, there is sixpence for you. Let's have a song. + AGUECHEEK. There's a testril of me too; if one knight give a- +CLOWN. Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? + SIR TOBY. A love-song, a love-song. + AGUECHEEK. Ay, ay; I care not for good life. + + CLOWN sings + + O mistress mine, where are you roaming? + O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, + That can sing both high and low. + Trip no further, pretty sweeting; + Journeys end in lovers meeting, + Every wise man's son doth know. + + AGUECHEEK. Excellent good, i' faith! + SIR TOBY. Good, good! + + CLOWN sings + + What is love? 'Tis not hereafter; + Present mirth hath present laughter; + What's to come is still unsure. + In delay there lies no plenty, + Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty; + Youth's a stuff will not endure. + + AGUECHEEK. A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. + SIR TOBY. A contagious breath. + AGUECHEEK. Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. + SIR TOBY. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall + we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in + a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? Shall we do + that? + AGUECHEEK. An you love me, let's do't. I am dog at a catch. + CLOWN. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. + AGUECHEEK. Most certain. Let our catch be 'Thou knave.' + CLOWN. 'Hold thy peace, thou knave' knight? I shall be constrain'd + in't to call thee knave, knight. + AGUECHEEK. 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call + me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace.' + CLOWN. I shall never begin if I hold my peace. + AGUECHEEK. Good, i' faith! Come, begin. [Catch sung] + + Enter MARIA + + MARIA. What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not + call'd up her steward Malvolio, and bid him turn you out of + doors, never trust me. + SIR TOBY. My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's a + Peg-a-Ramsey, and [Sings] + Three merry men be we. + Am not I consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tilly-vally, + lady. [Sings] + There dwelt a man in Babylon, + Lady, lady. + CLOWN. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. + AGUECHEEK. Ay, he does well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I + too; he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. + SIR TOBY. [Sings] O' the twelfth day of December- + MARIA. For the love o' God, peace! + + Enter MALVOLIO + + MALVOLIO. My masters, are you mad? Or what are you? Have you no + wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this + time of night? Do ye make an ale-house of my lady's house, that + ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or + remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor + time, in you? + SIR TOBY. We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! + MALVOLIO. Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell + you that, though she harbours you as her kins-man, she's nothing + allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your + misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house; if not, and it would + please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you + farewell. + SIR TOBY. [Sings] Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone. + MARIA. Nay, good Sir Toby. + CLOWN. [Sings] His eyes do show his days are almost done. + MALVOLIO. Is't even so? + SIR TOBY. [Sings] But I will never die. [Falls down] + CLOWN. [Sings] Sir Toby, there you lie. + MALVOLIO. This is much credit to you. + SIR TOBY. [Sings] Shall I bid him go? + CLOWN. [Sings] What an if you do? + SIR TOBY. [Sings] Shall I bid him go, and spare not? + CLOWN. [Sings] O, no, no, no, no, you dare not. + SIR TOBY. [Rising] Out o' tune, sir! Ye lie. Art any more than a + steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall + be no more cakes and ale? + CLOWN. Yes, by Saint Anne; and ginger shall be hot i' th' mouth + too. + SIR TOBY. Th' art i' th' right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. + A stoup of wine, Maria! + MALVOLIO. Mistress Mary, if you priz'd my lady's favour at anything + more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil + rule; she shall know of it, by this hand. + Exit + MARIA. Go shake your ears. + AGUECHEEK. 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's ahungry, + to challenge him the field, and then to break promise with him + and make a fool of him. + SIR TOBY. Do't, knight. I'll write thee a challenge; or I'll + deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. + MARIA. Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for to-night; since the youth of + the Count's was to-day with my lady, she is much out of quiet. + For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him; if I do not gull + him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not + think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed. I know I can + do it. + SIR TOBY. Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. + MARIA. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. + AGUECHEEK. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. + SIR TOBY. What, for being a Puritan? Thy exquisite reason, dear + knight? + AGUECHEEK. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good + enough. + MARIA. The devil a Puritan that he is, or anything constantly but a + time-pleaser; an affection'd ass that cons state without book and + utters it by great swarths; the best persuaded of himself, so + cramm'd, as he thinks, with excellencies that it is his grounds + of faith that all that look on him love him; and on that vice in + him will my revenge find notable cause to work. + SIR TOBY. What wilt thou do? + MARIA. I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; + wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the + manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and + complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. I + can write very like my lady, your niece; on forgotten matter we + can hardly make distinction of our hands. + SIR TOBY. Excellent! I smell a device. + AGUECHEEK. I have't in my nose too. + SIR TOBY. He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that + they come from my niece, and that she's in love with him. + MARIA. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. + AGUECHEEK. And your horse now would make him an ass. + MARIA. Ass, I doubt not. + AGUECHEEK. O, 'twill be admirable! + MARIA. Sport royal, I warrant you. I know my physic will work with + him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where + he shall find the letter; observe his construction of it. For + this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. + Exit + SIR TOBY. Good night, Penthesilea. + AGUECHEEK. Before me, she's a good wench. + SIR TOBY. She's a beagle true-bred, and one that adores me. + What o' that? + AGUECHEEK. I was ador'd once too. + SIR TOBY. Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more + money. + AGUECHEEK. If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. + SIR TOBY. Send for money, knight; if thou hast her not i' th' end, + call me Cut. + AGUECHEEK. If I do not, never trust me; take it how you will. + SIR TOBY. Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late to go + to bed now. Come, knight; come, knight. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +The DUKE'S palace + +Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and OTHERS + + DUKE. Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends. + Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, + That old and antique song we heard last night; + Methought it did relieve my passion much, + More than light airs and recollected terms + Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times. + Come, but one verse. + CURIO. He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing + it. + DUKE. Who was it? + CURIO. Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the Lady Olivia's + father took much delight in. He is about the house. + DUKE. Seek him out, and play the tune the while. + Exit CURIO. [Music plays] + Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love, + In the sweet pangs of it remember me; + For such as I am all true lovers are, + Unstaid and skittish in all motions else + Save in the constant image of the creature + That is belov'd. How dost thou like this tune? + VIOLA. It gives a very echo to the seat + Where Love is thron'd. + DUKE. Thou dost speak masterly. + My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye + Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves; + Hath it not, boy? + VIOLA. A little, by your favour. + DUKE. What kind of woman is't? + VIOLA. Of your complexion. + DUKE. She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith? + VIOLA. About your years, my lord. + DUKE. Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take + An elder than herself; so wears she to him, + So sways she level in her husband's heart. + For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, + Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, + More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, + Than women's are. + VIOLA. I think it well, my lord. + DUKE. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, + Or thy affection cannot hold the bent; + For women are as roses, whose fair flow'r + Being once display'd doth fall that very hour. + VIOLA. And so they are; alas, that they are so! + To die, even when they to perfection grow! + + Re-enter CURIO and CLOWN + + DUKE. O, fellow, come, the song we had last night. + Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain; + The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, + And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, + Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth, + And dallies with the innocence of love, + Like the old age. + CLOWN. Are you ready, sir? + DUKE. Ay; prithee, sing. [Music] + + FESTE'S SONG + + Come away, come away, death; + And in sad cypress let me be laid; + Fly away, fly away, breath, + I am slain by a fair cruel maid. + My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, + O, prepare it! + My part of death no one so true + Did share it. + + Not a flower, not a flower sweet, + On my black coffin let there be strown; + Not a friend, not a friend greet + My poor corpse where my bones shall be thrown; + A thousand thousand to save, + Lay me, O, where + Sad true lover never find my grave, + To weep there! + + DUKE. There's for thy pains. + CLOWN. No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir. + DUKE. I'll pay thy pleasure, then. + CLOWN. Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid one time or another. + DUKE. Give me now leave to leave thee. + CLOWN. Now the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy + doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I + would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business + might be everything, and their intent everywhere: for that's it + that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. + Exit CLOWN + DUKE. Let all the rest give place. + Exeunt CURIO and ATTENDANTS + Once more, Cesario, + Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty. + Tell her my love, more noble than the world, + Prizes not quantity of dirty lands; + The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, + Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune; + But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems + That Nature pranks her in attracts my soul. + VIOLA. But if she cannot love you, sir? + DUKE. I cannot be so answer'd. + VIOLA. Sooth, but you must. + Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, + Hath for your love as great a pang of heart + As you have for Olivia. You cannot love her; + You tell her so. Must she not then be answer'd? + DUKE. There is no woman's sides + Can bide the beating of so strong a passion + As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart + So big to hold so much; they lack retention. + Alas, their love may be call'd appetite- + No motion of the liver, but the palate- + That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt; + But mine is all as hungry as the sea, + And can digest as much. Make no compare + Between that love a woman can bear me + And that I owe Olivia. + VIOLA. Ay, but I know- + DUKE. What dost thou know? + VIOLA. Too well what love women to men may owe. + In faith, they are as true of heart as we. + My father had a daughter lov'd a man, + As it might be perhaps, were I a woman, + I should your lordship. + DUKE. And what's her history? + VIOLA. A blank, my lord. She never told her love, + But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, + Feed on her damask cheek. She pin'd in thought; + And with a green and yellow melancholy + She sat like Patience on a monument, + Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? + We men may say more, swear more, but indeed + Our shows are more than will; for still we prove + Much in our vows, but little in our love. + DUKE. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? + VIOLA. I am all the daughters of my father's house, + And all the brothers too- and yet I know not. + Sir, shall I to this lady? + DUKE. Ay, that's the theme. + To her in haste. Give her this jewel; say + My love can give no place, bide no denay. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE V. +OLIVIA'S garden + +Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN + + SIR TOBY. Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. + FABIAN. Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport let me be + boil'd to death with melancholy. + SIR TOBY. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally + sheep-biter come by some notable shame? + FABIAN. I would exult, man; you know he brought me out o' favour + with my lady about a bear-baiting here. + SIR TOBY. To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will fool + him black and blue- shall we not, Sir Andrew? + AGUECHEEK. And we do not, it is pity of our lives. + + Enter MARIA + + SIR TOBY. Here comes the little villain. + How now, my metal of India! + MARIA. Get ye all three into the box-tree. Malvolio's coming down + this walk. He has been yonder i' the sun practising behaviour to + his own shadow this half hour. Observe him, for the love of + mockery, for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot + of him. Close, in the name of jesting! [As the men hide she drops + a letter] Lie thou there; for here comes the trout that must be + caught with tickling. + Exit + + Enter MALVOLIO + + MALVOLIO. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me she + did affect me; and I have heard herself come thus near, that, + should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she + uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that + follows her. What should I think on't? + SIR TOBY. Here's an overweening rogue! + FABIAN. O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him; + how he jets under his advanc'd plumes! + AGUECHEEK. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue- + SIR TOBY. Peace, I say. + MALVOLIO. To be Count Malvolio! + SIR TOBY. Ah, rogue! + AGUECHEEK. Pistol him, pistol him. + SIR TOBY. Peace, peace! + MALVOLIO. There is example for't: the Lady of the Strachy married + the yeoman of the wardrobe. + AGUECHEEK. Fie on him, Jezebel! + FABIAN. O, peace! Now he's deeply in; look how imagination blows + him. + MALVOLIO. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my + state- + SIR TOBY. O, for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye! + MALVOLIO. Calling my officers about me, in my branch'd velvet gown, + having come from a day-bed- where I have left Olivia sleeping- + SIR TOBY. Fire and brimstone! + FABIAN. O, peace, peace! + MALVOLIO. And then to have the humour of state; and after a demure + travel of regard, telling them I know my place as I would they + should do theirs, to ask for my kinsman Toby- + SIR TOBY. Bolts and shackles! + FABIAN. O, peace, peace, peace! Now, now. + MALVOLIO. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for + him. I frown the while, and perchance wind up my watch, or play + with my- some rich jewel. Toby approaches; curtsies there to me- + SIR TOBY. Shall this fellow live? + FABIAN. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace. + MALVOLIO. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile + with an austere regard of control- + SIR TOBY. And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then? + MALVOLIO. Saying 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your + niece give me this prerogative of speech'- + SIR TOBY. What, what? + MALVOLIO. 'You must amend your drunkenness'- + SIR TOBY. Out, scab! + FABIAN. Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. + MALVOLIO. 'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a + foolish knight'- + AGUECHEEK. That's me, I warrant you. + MALVOLIO. 'One Sir Andrew.' + AGUECHEEK. I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool. + MALVOLIO. What employment have we here? + [Taking up the letter] + FABIAN. Now is the woodcock near the gin. + SIR TOBY. O, peace! And the spirit of humours intimate reading + aloud to him! + MALVOLIO. By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very + C's, her U's, and her T's; and thus makes she her great P's. It + is, in contempt of question, her hand. + AGUECHEEK. Her C's, her U's, and her T's. Why that? + MALVOLIO. [Reads] 'To the unknown belov'd, this, and my good + wishes.' Her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft! And the + impressure her Lucrece with which she uses to seal; 'tis my lady. + To whom should this be? + FABIAN. This wins him, liver and all. + MALVOLIO. [Reads] + + Jove knows I love, + But who? + Lips, do not move; + No man must know.' + + 'No man must know.' What follows? The numbers alter'd! + 'No man must know.' If this should be thee, Malvolio? + SIR TOBY. Marry, hang thee, brock! + MALVOLIO. [Reads] + + 'I may command where I adore; + But silence, like a Lucrece knife, + With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore; + M. O. A. I. doth sway my life.' + + FABIAN. A fustian riddle! + SIR TOBY. Excellent wench, say I. + MALVOLIO. 'M. O. A. I. doth sway my life.' + Nay, but first let me see, let me see, let me see. + FABIAN. What dish o' poison has she dress'd him! + SIR TOBY. And with what wing the staniel checks at it! + MALVOLIO. 'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command me: I + serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal + capacity; there is no obstruction in this. And the end- what + should that alphabetical position portend? If I could make that + resemble something in me. Softly! M. O. A. I.- + SIR TOBY. O, ay, make up that! He is now at a cold scent. + FABIAN. Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as rank + as a fox. + MALVOLIO. M- Malvolio; M- why, that begins my name. + FABIAN. Did not I say he would work it out? + The cur is excellent at faults. + MALVOLIO. M- But then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that + suffers under probation: A should follow, but O does. + FABIAN. And O shall end, I hope. + SIR TOBY. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry 'O!' + MALVOLIO. And then I comes behind. + FABIAN. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more + detraction at your heels than fortunes before you. + MALVOLIO. M. O. A. I. This simulation is not as the former; and + yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of + these letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose. + [Reads] + 'If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above + thee; but be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some + achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy + Fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them; + and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy + humble slough and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly + with servants; let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put + thyself into the trick of singularity. She thus advises thee that + sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and + wish'd to see thee ever cross-garter'd. I say, remember, Go to, + thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so; if not, let me see thee + a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch + Fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with + thee, + THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.' + + Daylight and champain discovers not more. This is open. I will be + proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I + will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very + man. I do not now fool myself to let imagination jade me; for + every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did + commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being + cross-garter'd; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and + with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her + liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in + yellow stockings, and cross-garter'd, even with the swiftness of + putting on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a + postscript. + + [Reads] 'Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou + entertain'st my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles + become thee well. Therefore in my presence still smile, dear my + sweet, I prithee.' + + Jove, I thank thee. I will smile; I will do everything that thou + wilt have me. Exit + FABIAN. I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of + thousands to be paid from the Sophy. + SIR TOBY. I could marry this wench for this device. + AGUECHEEK. So could I too. + SIR TOBY. And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest. + + Enter MARIA + + AGUECHEEK. Nor I neither. + FABIAN. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. + SIR TOBY. Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck? + AGUECHEEK. Or o' mine either? + SIR TOBY. Shall I play my freedom at tray-trip, and become thy + bond-slave? + AGUECHEEK. I' faith, or I either? + SIR TOBY. Why, thou hast put him in such a dream that when the + image of it leaves him he must run mad. + MARIA. Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? + SIR TOBY. Like aqua-vita! with a midwife. + AIARIA. If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his + first approach before my lady. He will come to her in yellow + stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors, and cross-garter'd, a + fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now + be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a + melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable + contempt. If you will see it, follow me. + SIR TOBY. To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit! + AGUECHEEK. I'll make one too. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +OLIVIA'S garden + +Enter VIOLA, and CLOWN with a tabor + + VIOLA. Save thee, friend, and thy music! + Dost thou live by thy tabor? + CLOWN. No, sir, I live by the church. + VIOLA. Art thou a churchman? + CLOWN. No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for I do live + at my house, and my house doth stand by the church. + VIOLA. So thou mayst say the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar + dwell near him; or the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor + stand by the church. + CLOWN. You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a + chev'ril glove to a good wit. How quickly the wrong side may be + turn'd outward! + VIOLA. Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with words may + quickly make them wanton. + CLOWN. I would, therefore, my sister had had name, sir. + VIOLA. Why, man? + CLOWN. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word + might make my sister wanton. But indeed words are very rascals + since bonds disgrac'd them. + VIOLA. Thy reason, man? + CLOWN. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words, and words + are grown so false I am loath to prove reason with them. + VIOLA. I warrant thou art a merry fellow and car'st for nothing. + CLOWN. Not so, sir; I do care for something; but in my conscience, + sir, I do not care for you. If that be to care for nothing, sir, + I would it would make you invisible. + VIOLA. Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool? + CLOWN. No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly; she will keep + no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands + as pilchers are to herrings- the husband's the bigger. I am + indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. + VIOLA. I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's. + CLOWN. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun- it + shines everywhere. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be + as oft with your master as with my mistress: think I saw your + wisdom there. + VIOLA. Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. + Hold, there's expenses for thee. [Giving a coin] + CLOWN. Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send the a beard! + VIOLA. By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for one; + [Aside] though I would not have it grow on my chin.- Is thy lady + within? + CLOWN. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? + VIOLA. Yes, being kept together and put to use. + CLOWN. I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a + Cressida to this Troilus. + VIOLA. I understand you, sir; 'tis well begg'd. + [Giving another coin] + CLOWN. The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar: + Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to + them whence you come; who you are and what you would are out of + my welkin- I might say 'element' but the word is overworn. + Exit CLOWN + VIOLA. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; + And to do that well craves a kind of wit. + He must observe their mood on whom he jests, + The quality of persons, and the time; + And, like the haggard, check at every feather + That comes before his eye. This is a practice + As full of labour as a wise man's art; + For folly that he wisely shows is fit; + But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit. + + Enter SIR TOBY and SIR ANDREW + + SIR TOBY. Save you, gentleman! + VIOLA. And you, sir. + AGUECHEEK. Dieu vous garde, monsieur. + VIOLA. Et vous aussi; votre serviteur. + AGUECHEEK. I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. + SIR TOBY. Will you encounter the house? My niece is desirous you + should enter, if your trade be to her. + VIOLA. I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the list of my + voyage. + SIR TOBY. Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion. + VIOLA. My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what + you mean by bidding me taste my legs. + SIR TOBY. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. + VIOLA. I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we are + prevented. + + Enter OLIVIA and MARIA + + Most excellent accomplish'd lady, the heavens rain odours on you! + AGUECHEEK. That youth's a rare courtier- 'Rain odours' well! + VIOLA. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant + and vouchsafed car. + AGUECHEEK. 'Odours,' 'pregnant,' and 'vouchsafed'- I'll get 'em all + three all ready. + OLIVIA. Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. + [Exeunt all but OLIVIA and VIOLA] Give me your hand, sir. + VIOLA. My duty, madam, and most humble service. + OLIVIA. What is your name? + VIOLA. Cesario is your servant's name, fair Princess. + OLIVIA. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world + Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment. + Y'are servant to the Count Orsino, youth. + VIOLA. And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: + Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. + OLIVIA. For him, I think not on him; for his thoughts, + Would they were blanks rather than fill'd with me! + VIOLA. Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts + On his behalf. + OLIVIA. O, by your leave, I pray you: + I bade you never speak again of him; + But, would you undertake another suit, + I had rather hear you to solicit that + Than music from the spheres. + VIOLA. Dear lady- + OLIVIA. Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, + After the last enchantment you did here, + A ring in chase of you; so did I abuse + Myself, my servant, and, I fear me, you. + Under your hard construction must I sit, + To force that on you in a shameful cunning + Which you knew none of yours. What might you think? + Have you not set mine honour at the stake, + And baited it with all th' unmuzzled thoughts + That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving + Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom, + Hides my heart. So, let me hear you speak. + VIOLA. I Pity YOU. + OLIVIA. That's a degree to love. + VIOLA. No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof + That very oft we pity enemies. + OLIVIA. Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again. + O world, how apt the poor are to be proud! + If one should be a prey, how much the better + To fall before the lion than the wolf! [Clock strikes] + The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. + Be not afraid, good youth; I will not have you; + And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, + Your wife is like to reap a proper man. + There lies your way, due west. + VIOLA. Then westward-ho! + Grace and good disposition attend your ladyship! + You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? + OLIVIA. Stay. + I prithee tell me what thou think'st of me. + VIOLA. That you do think you are not what you are. + OLIVIA. If I think so, I think the same of you. + VIOLA. Then think you right: I am not what I am. + OLIVIA. I would you were as I would have you be! + VIOLA. Would it be better, madam, than I am? + I wish it might, for now I am your fool. + OLIVIA. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful + In the contempt and anger of his lip! + A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more soon + Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon. + Cesario, by the roses of the spring, + By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, + I love thee so that, maugre all thy pride, + Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. + Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, + For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause; + But rather reason thus with reason fetter: + Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. + VIOLA. By innocence I swear, and by my youth, + I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, + And that no woman has; nor never none + Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. + And so adieu, good madam; never more + Will I my master's tears to you deplore. + OLIVIA. Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move + That heart which now abhors to like his love. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +OLIVIA'S house + +Enter SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW and FABIAN + + AGUECHEEK. No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. + SIR TOBY. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason. + FABIAN. You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. + AGUECHEEK. Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the Count's + servingman than ever she bestow'd upon me; I saw't i' th' + orchard. + SIR TOBY. Did she see thee the while, old boy? Tell me that. + AGUECHEEK. As plain as I see you now. + FABIAN. This was a great argument of love in her toward you. + AGUECHEEK. 'Slight! will you make an ass o' me? + FABIAN. I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment + and reason. + SIR TOBY. And they have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a + sailor. + FABIAN. She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to + exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in + your heart and brimstone in your liver. You should then have + accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the + mint, you should have bang'd the youth into dumbness. This was + look'd for at your hand, and this was baulk'd. The double gilt of + this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sail'd + into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an + icicle on Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some + laudable attempt either of valour or policy. + AGUECHEEK. An't be any way, it must be with valour, for policy I + hate; I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician. + SIR TOBY. Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of + valour. Challenge me the Count's youth to fight with him; hurt + him in eleven places. My niece shall take note of it; and assure + thyself there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in + man's commendation with woman than report of valour. + FABIAN. There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. + AGUECHEEK. Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? + SIR TOBY. Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is + no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention. + Taunt him with the license of ink; if thou thou'st him some + thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in + thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the + bed of Ware in England, set 'em down; go about it. Let there be + gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no + matter. About it. + AGUECHEEK. Where shall I find you? + SIR TOBY. We'll call thee at the cubiculo. Go. + Exit SIR ANDREW + FABIAN. This is a dear manakin to you, Sir Toby. + SIR TOBY. I have been dear to him, lad- some two thousand strong, + or so. + FABIAN. We shall have a rare letter from him; but you'll not + deliver't? + SIR TOBY. Never trust me then; and by all means stir on the youth + to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them + together. For Andrew, if he were open'd and you find so much + blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the + rest of th' anatomy. + FABIAN. And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great + presage of cruelty. + + Enter MARIA + + SIR TOBY. Look where the youngest wren of nine comes. + MARIA. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into + stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very + renegado; for there is no Christian that means to be saved by + believing rightly can ever believe such impossible passages of + grossness. He's in yellow stockings. + SIR TOBY. And cross-garter'd? + MARIA. Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' th' + church. I have dogg'd him like his murderer. He does obey every + point of the letter that I dropp'd to betray him. He does smile + his face into more lines than is in the new map with the + augmentation of the Indies. You have not seen such a thing as + 'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady + will strike him; if she do, he'll smile and take't for a great + favour. + SIR TOBY. Come, bring us, bring us where he is. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +A street + +Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO + + SEBASTIAN. I would not by my will have troubled you; + But since you make your pleasure of your pains, + I will no further chide you. + ANTONIO. I could not stay behind you: my desire, + More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth; + And not all love to see you- though so much + As might have drawn one to a longer voyage- + But jealousy what might befall your travel, + Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, + Unguided and unfriended, often prove + Rough and unhospitable. My willing love, + The rather by these arguments of fear, + Set forth in your pursuit. + SEBASTIAN. My kind Antonio, + I can no other answer make but thanks, + And thanks, and ever thanks; and oft good turns + Are shuffl'd off with such uncurrent pay; + But were my worth as is my conscience firm, + You should find better dealing. What's to do? + Shall we go see the reliques of this town? + ANTONIO. To-morrow, sir; best first go see your lodging. + SEBASTIAN. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night; + I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes + With the memorials and the things of fame + That do renown this city. + ANTONIO. Would you'd pardon me. + I do not without danger walk these streets: + Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his galleys + I did some service; of such note, indeed, + That, were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answer'd. + SEBASTIAN. Belike you slew great number of his people. + ANTONIO.Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature; + Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel + Might well have given us bloody argument. + It might have since been answer'd in repaying + What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake, + Most of our city did. Only myself stood out; + For which, if I be lapsed in this place, + I shall pay dear. + SEBASTIAN. Do not then walk too open. + ANTONIO. It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse; + In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, + Is best to lodge. I will bespeak our diet, + Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge + With viewing of the town; there shall you have me. + SEBASTIAN. Why I your purse? + ANTONIO. Haply your eye shall light upon some toy + You have desire to purchase; and your store, + I think, is not for idle markets, sir. + SEBASTIAN. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for + An hour. + ANTONIO. To th' Elephant. + SEBASTIAN. I do remember. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +OLIVIA'S garden + +Enter OLIVIA and MARIA + + OLIVIA. I have sent after him; he says he'll come. + How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? + For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd. + I speak too loud. + Where's Malvolio? He is sad and civil, + And suits well for a servant with my fortunes. + Where is Malvolio? + MARIA. He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. + He is sure possess'd, madam. + OLIVIA. Why, what's the matter? Does he rave? + MARIA. No, madam, he does nothing but smile. Your ladyship were + best to have some guard about you if he come; for sure the man is + tainted in's wits. + OLIVIA. Go call him hither. Exit MARIA + I am as mad as he, + If sad and merry madness equal be. + + Re-enter MARIA with MALVOLIO + + How now, Malvolio! + MALVOLIO. Sweet lady, ho, ho. + OLIVIA. Smil'st thou? + I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. + MALVOLIO. Sad, lady? I could be sad. This does make some + obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; but what of that? + If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true + sonnet is: 'Please one and please all.' + OLIVIA. Why, how dost thou, man? What is the matter with thee? + MALVOLIO. Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. + It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed. + I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. + OLIVIA. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? + MALVOLIO. To bed? Ay, sweetheart, and I'll come to thee. + OLIVIA. God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so, and kiss thy hand + so oft? + MARIA. How do you, Malvolio? + MALVOLIO. At your request? Yes, nightingales answer daws! + MARIA. Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady? + MALVOLIO. 'Be not afraid of greatness.' 'Twas well writ. + OLIVIA. What mean'st thou by that, Malvolio? + AIALVOLIO. 'Some are born great,'- + OLIVIA. Ha? + MALVOLIO. 'Some achieve greatness,'- + OLIVIA. What say'st thou? + MALVOLIO. 'And some have greatness thrust upon them.' + OLIVIA. Heaven restore thee! + MALVOLIO. 'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings,'- + OLIVIA. 'Thy yellow stockings?' + MALVOLIO. 'And wish'd to see thee cross-garterd.' + OLIVIA. 'Cross-garter'd?' + MALVOLIO. 'Go to, thou an made, if thou desir'st to be so';- + OLIVIA. Am I made? + MALVOLIO. 'If not, let me see thee a servant still.' + OLIVIA. Why, this is very midsummer madness. + + Enter SERVANT + + SERVANT. Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is + return'd; I could hardly entreat him back; he attends your + ladyship's pleasure. + OLIVIA. I'll come to him. [Exit SERVANT] Good Maria, let this + fellow be look'd to. Where's my cousin Toby? Let some of my + people have a special care of him; I would not have him miscarry + for the half of my dowry. + Exeunt OLIVIA and MARIA + MALVOLIO. O, ho! do you come near me now? No worse man than Sir + Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with the letter: she + sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for she + incites me to that in the letter. 'Cast thy humble slough,' says + she. 'Be opposite with kinsman, surly with servants; let thy + tongue tang with arguments of state; put thyself into the trick + of singularity' and consequently sets down the manner how, as: a + sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of + some sir of note, and so forth. I have lim'd her; but it is + Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful! And when she went away + now- 'Let this fellow be look'd to.' 'Fellow,' not 'Malvolio' nor + after my degree, but 'fellow.' Why, everything adheres together, + that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, + no incredulous or unsafe circumstance- What can be said? Nothing + that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my + hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be + thanked. + + Re-enter MARIA, with SIR TOBY and FABIAN + + SIR TOBY. Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the + devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possess'd + him, yet I'll speak to him. + FABIAN. Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir? + SIR TOBY. How is't with you, man? + MALVOLIO. Go off; I discard you. Let me enjoy my private; go off. + MARIA. Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! Did not I tell + you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him. + MALVOLIO. Ah, ha! does she so? + SIR TOBY. Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal gently with him. + Let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? How is't with you? What, man, + defy the devil; consider, he's an enemy to mankind. + MALVOLIO. Do you know what you say? + MARIA. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at + heart! Pray God he be not bewitched. + FABIAN. Carry his water to th' wise woman. + MARIA. Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I live. My + lady would not lose him for more than I'll say. + MALVOLIO. How now, mistress! + MARIA. O Lord! + SIR TOBY. Prithee hold thy peace; this is not the way. Do you not + see you move him? Let me alone with him. + FABIAN. No way but gentleness- gently, gently. The fiend is rough, + and will not be roughly us'd. + SIR TOBY. Why, how now, my bawcock! + How dost thou, chuck? + MALVOLIO. Sir! + SIR TOBY. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man, 'tis not for gravity + to play at cherrypit with Satan. Hang him, foul collier! + MARIA. Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray. + MALVOLIO. My prayers, minx! + MARIA. No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness. + MALVOLIO. Go, hang yourselves all! You are idle shallow things; I + am not of your element; you shall know more hereafter. + Exit + SIR TOBY. Is't possible? + FABIAN. If this were play'd upon a stage now, I could condemn it as + an improbable fiction. + SIR TOBY. His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, + man. + MARIA. Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint. + FABIAN. Why, we shall make him mad indeed. + MARIA. The house will be the quieter. + SIR TOBY. Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece + is already in the belief that he's mad. We may carry it thus, for + our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of + breath, prompt us to have mercy on him; at which time we will + bring the device to the bar and crown thee for a finder of + madmen. But see, but see. + + Enter SIR ANDREW + + FABIAN. More matter for a May morning. + AGUECHEEK. Here's the challenge; read it. I warrant there's vinegar + and pepper in't. + FABIAN. Is't so saucy? + AGUECHEEK. Ay, is't, I warrant him; do but read. + SIR TOBY. Give me. [Reads] 'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art + but a scurvy fellow.' + FABIAN. Good and valiant. + SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do + call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.' + FABIAN. A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law. + SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'Thou com'st to the Lady Olivia, and in my sight + she uses thee kindly; but thou liest in thy throat; that is not + the matter I challenge thee for.' + FABIAN. Very brief, and to exceeding good sense- less. + SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'I will waylay thee going home; where if it be + thy chance to kill me'- + FABIAN. Good. + SIR TOBY. 'Thou kill'st me like a rogue and a villain.' + FABIAN. Still you keep o' th' windy side of the law. Good! + SIR TOBY. [Reads] 'Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon one of + our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, + and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy + sworn enemy, + ANDREW AGUECHEEK.' + + If this letter move him not, his legs cannot. I'll give't him. + MARIA. You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some + commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart. + SIR TOBY. Go, Sir Andrew; scout me for him at the corner of the + orchard, like a bum-baily; so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; + and as thou draw'st, swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft + that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twang'd + off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would + have earn'd him. Away. + AGUECHEEK. Nay, let me alone for swearing. Exit + SIR TOBY. Now will not I deliver his letter; for the behaviour of + the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and + breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms + no less. Therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, + will breed no terror in the youth: he will find it comes from a + clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of + mouth, set upon Aguecheek notable report of valour, and drive the + gentleman- as know his youth will aptly receive it- into a most + hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This + will so fright them both that they will kill one another by the + look, like cockatrices. + + Re-enter OLIVIA. With VIOLA + + FABIAN. Here he comes with your niece; give them way till he take + leave, and presently after him. + SIR TOBY. I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a + challenge. + Exeunt SIR TOBY, FABIAN, and MARIA + OLIVIA. I have said too much unto a heart of stone, + And laid mine honour too unchary out; + There's something in me that reproves my fault; + But such a headstrong potent fault it is + That it but mocks reproof. + VIOLA. With the same haviour that your passion bears + Goes on my master's griefs. + OLIVIA. Here, wear this jewel for me; 'tis my picture. + Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you. + And I beseech you come again to-morrow. + What shall you ask of me that I'll deny, + That honour sav'd may upon asking give? + VIOLA. Nothing but this- your true love for my master. + OLIVIA. How with mine honour may I give him that + Which I have given to you? + VIOLA. I will acquit you. + OLIVIA. Well, come again to-morrow. Fare thee well; + A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. Exit + + Re-enter SIR TOBY and SIR FABIAN + + SIR TOBY. Gentleman, God save thee. + VIOLA. And you, sir. + SIR TOBY. That defence thou hast, betake thee tot. Of what nature + the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; but thy + intercepter, full of despite, bloody as the hunter, attends + thee at the orchard end. Dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy + preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful, and deadly. + VIOLA. You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel to me; + my remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence + done to any man. + SIR TOBY. You'll find it otherwise, I assure you; therefore, if you + hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard; for your + opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can + furnish man withal. + VIOLA. I pray you, sir, what is he? + SIR TOBY. He is knight, dubb'd with unhatch'd rapier and on carpet + consideration; but he is a devil in private brawl. Souls and + bodies hath he divorc'd three; and his incensement at this moment + is so implacable that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of + death and sepulchre. Hob-nob is his word- give't or take't. + VIOLA. I will return again into the house and desire some conduct + of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard of some kind of men + that put quarrels purposely on others to taste their valour; + belike this is a man of that quirk. + SIR TOBY. Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a very + competent injury; therefore, get you on and give him his desire. + Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that with + me which with as much safety you might answer him; therefore on, + or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle you must, that's + certain, or forswear to wear iron about you. + VIOLA. This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you do me this + courteous office as to know of the knight what my offence to him + is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose. + SIR TOBY. I Will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman + till my return. Exit SIR TOBY + VIOLA. Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? + FABIAN. I know the knight is incens'd against you, even to a mortal + arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more. + VIOLA. I beseech you, what manner of man is he? + FABIAN. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form, + as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. He is + indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite that + you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. Will you + walk towards him? I will make your peace with him if I can. + VIOLA. I shall be much bound to you for't. I am one that would + rather go with sir priest than sir knight. I care not who knows + so much of my mettle. Exeunt + + Re-enter SIR TOBY With SIR ANDREW + + SIR TOBY. Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a + firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard, and all, and he + gives me the stuck in with such a mortal motion that it is + inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet + hit the ground they step on. They say he has been fencer to the + Sophy. + AGUECHEEK. Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. + SIR TOBY. Ay, but he will not now be pacified; Fabian can scarce + hold him yonder. + AGUECHEEK. Plague on't; an I thought he had been valiant, and so + cunning in fence, I'd have seen him damn'd ere I'd have + challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him + my horse, grey Capilet. + SIR TOBY. I'll make the motion. Stand here, make a good show on't; + this shall end without the perdition of souls. [Aside] Marry, + I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. + + Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA + + [To FABIAN] I have his horse to take up the quarrel; I have + persuaded him the youth's a devil. + FABIAN. [To SIR TOBY] He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants + and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels. + SIR TOBY. [To VIOLA] There's no remedy, sir: he will fight with you + for's oath sake. Marry, he hath better bethought him of his + quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of. + Therefore draw for the supportance of his vow; he protests he + will not hurt you. + VIOLA. [Aside] Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me + tell them how much I lack of a man. + FABIAN. Give ground if you see him furious. + SIR TOBY. Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy; the gentleman will, + for his honour's sake, have one bout with you; he cannot by the + duello avoid it; but he has promis'd me, as he is a gentleman and + a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on; to't. + AGUECHEEK. Pray God he keep his oath! [They draw] + + Enter ANTONIO + + VIOLA. I do assure you 'tis against my will. + ANTONIO. Put up your sword. If this young gentleman + Have done offence, I take the fault on me: + If you offend him, I for him defy you. + SIR TOBY. You, sir! Why, what are you? + ANTONIO. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more + Than you have heard him brag to you he will. + SIR TOBY. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you. + [They draw] + + Enter OFFICERS + + FABIAN. O good Sir Toby, hold! Here come the officers. + SIR TOBY. [To ANTONIO] I'll be with you anon. + VIOLA. Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please. + AGUECHEEK. Marry, will I, sir; and for that I promis'd you, I'll be + as good as my word. He will bear you easily and reins well. + FIRST OFFICER. This is the man; do thy office. + SECOND OFFICER. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit + Of Count Orsino. + ANTONIO. You do mistake me, sir. + FIRST OFFICER. No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well, + Though now you have no sea-cap on your head. + Take him away; he knows I know him well. + ANTONIO. I Must obey. [To VIOLA] This comes with seeking you; + But there's no remedy; I shall answer it. + What will you do, now my necessity + Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me + Much more for what I cannot do for you + Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz'd; + But be of comfort. + SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, away. + ANTONIO. I must entreat of you some of that money. + VIOLA. What money, sir? + For the fair kindness you have show'd me here, + And part being prompted by your present trouble, + Out of my lean and low ability + I'll lend you something. My having is not much; + I'll make division of my present with you; + Hold, there's half my coffer. + ANTONIO. Will you deny me now? + Is't possible that my deserts to you + Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, + Lest that it make me so unsound a man + As to upbraid you with those kindnesses + That I have done for you. + VIOLA. I know of none, + Nor know I you by voice or any feature. + I hate ingratitude more in a man + Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness, + Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption + Inhabits our frail blood. + ANTONIO. O heavens themselves! + SECOND OFFICER. Come, sir, I pray you go. + ANTONIO. Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here + I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death, + Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love, + And to his image, which methought did promise + Most venerable worth, did I devotion. + FIRST OFFICER. What's that to us? The time goes by; away. + ANTONIO. But, O, how vile an idol proves this god! + Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. + In nature there's no blemish but the mind: + None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind. + Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous evil + Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil. + FIRST OFFICER. The man grows mad. Away with him. + Come, come, sir. + ANTONIO. Lead me on. Exit with OFFICERS + VIOLA. Methinks his words do from such passion fly + That he believes himself; so do not I. + Prove true, imagination, O, prove true, + That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you! + SIR TOBY. Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian; we'll whisper + o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws. + VIOLA. He nam'd Sebastian. I my brother know + Yet living in my glass; even such and so + In favour was my brother; and he went + Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, + For him I imitate. O, if it prove, + Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love! Exit + SIR TOBY. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a + hare. His dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in + necessity and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian. + FABIAN. A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it. + AGUECHEEK. 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him. + SIR TOBY. Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword. + AGUECHEEK. And I do not- Exit + FABIAN. Come, let's see the event. + SIR TOBY. I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet. + Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +Before OLIVIA'S house + +Enter SEBASTIAN and CLOWN + + CLOWN. Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you? + SEBASTIAN. Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow; let me be clear + of thee. + CLOWN. Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not + sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your + name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither. + Nothing that is so is so. + SEBASTIAN. I prithee vent thy folly somewhere else. + Thou know'st not me. + CLOWN. Vent my folly! He has heard that word of some great man, and + now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid this great + lubber, the world, will prove a cockney. I prithee now, ungird + thy strangeness, and tell me what I shall vent to my lady. Shall + I vent to her that thou art coming? + SEBASTIAN. I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me; + There's money for thee; if you tarry longer + I shall give worse payment. + CLOWN. By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that + give fools money get themselves a good report after fourteen + years' purchase. + + Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY, and FABIAN + + AGUECHEEK. Now, sir, have I met you again? + [Striking SEBASTIAN] There's for you. + SEBASTIAN. Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. + Are all the people mad? + SIR TOBY. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house. + [Holding SEBASTIAN] + CLOWN. This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of + your coats for two-pence. Exit + SIR TOBY. Come on, sir; hold. + AGUECHEEK. Nay, let him alone. I'll go another way to work with + him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any + law in Illyria; though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for + that. + SEBASTIAN. Let go thy hand. + SIR TOBY. Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, + put up your iron; you are well flesh'd. Come on. + SEBASTIAN. I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? + If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword. [Draws] + SIR TOBY. What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this + malapert blood from you. [Draws] + + Enter OLIVIA + + OLIVIA. Hold, Toby; on thy life, I charge thee hold. + SIR TOBY. Madam! + OLIVIA. Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, + Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, + Where manners ne'er were preach'd! Out of my sight! + Be not offended, dear Cesario- + Rudesby, be gone! + Exeunt SIR TOBY, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN + I prithee, gentle friend, + Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway + In this uncivil and unjust extent + Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, + And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks + This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby + Mayst smile at this. Thou shalt not choose but go; + Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me! + He started one poor heart of mine in thee. + SEBASTIAN. What relish is in this? How runs the stream? + Or I am mad, or else this is a dream. + Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; + If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! + OLIVIA. Nay, come, I prithee. Would thou'dst be rul'd by me! + SEBASTIAN. Madam, I will. + OLIVIA. O, say so, and so be! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +OLIVIA'S house + +Enter MARIA and CLOWN + + MARIA. Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him + believe thou art Sir Topas the curate; do it quickly. I'll call + Sir Toby the whilst. Exit + CLOWN. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in't; and + I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I + am not tall enough to become the function well nor lean enough to + be thought a good student; but to be said an honest man and a + good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a + great scholar. The competitors enter. + + Enter SIR TOBY and MARIA + + SIR TOBY. Jove bless thee, Master Parson. + CLOWN. Bonos dies, Sir Toby; for as the old hermit of Prague, that + never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to niece of King + Gorboduc 'That that is is'; so I, being Master Parson, am Master + Parson; for what is 'that' but that, and 'is' but is? + SIR TOBY. To him, Sir Topas. + CLOWN. What ho, I say! Peace in this prison! + SIR TOBY. The knave counterfeits well; a good knave. + MALVOLIO. [Within] Who calls there? + CLOWN. Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the + lunatic. + MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady. + CLOWN. Out, hyperbolical fiend! How vexest thou this man! + Talkest thou nothing but of ladies? + SIR TOBY. Well said, Master Parson. + MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do + not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness. + CLOWN. Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most modest + terms, for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil + himself with courtesy. Say'st thou that house is dark? + MALVOLIO. As hell, Sir Topas. + CLOWN. Why, it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the + clerestories toward the south north are as lustrous as ebony; and + yet complainest thou of obstruction? + MALVOLIO. I am not mad, Sir Topas. I say to you this house is dark. + CLOWN. Madman, thou errest. I say there is no darkness but + ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in + their fog. + MALVOLIO. I say this house is as dark as ignorance, though + ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say there was never man + thus abus'd. I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it + in any constant question. + CLOWN. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl? + MALVOLIO. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. + CLOWN. What think'st thou of his opinion? + MALVOLIO. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his + opinion. + CLOWN. Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness: thou shalt + hold th' opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits; and + fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy + grandam. Fare thee well. + MALVOLIO. Sir Topas, Sir Topas! + SIR TOBY. My most exquisite Sir Topas! + CLOWN. Nay, I am for all waters. + MARIA. Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown: he + sees thee not. + SIR TOBY. To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou + find'st him. I would we were well rid of this knavery. If he may + be conveniently deliver'd, I would he were; for I am now so far + in offence with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety + this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. + Exit with MARIA + CLOWN. [Sings] Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, + Tell me how thy lady does. + MALVOLIO. Fool! + CLOWN. [Sings] My lady is unkind, perdy. + MALVOLIO. Fool! + CLOWN. [Sings] Alas, why is she so? + MALVOLIO. Fool I say! + CLOWN. [Sings] She loves another- Who calls, ha? + MALVOLIO. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, + help me to a candle, and pen, ink, and paper; as I am a + gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't. + CLOWN. Master Malvolio? + MALVOLIO. Ay, good fool. + CLOWN. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? + MALVOLIO. Fool, there was never man so notoriously abus'd; + I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. + CLOWN. But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in + your wits than a fool. + MALVOLIO. They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send + ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my + wits. + CLOWN. Advise you what. you say: the minister is here. + [Speaking as SIR TOPAS] Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! + Endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble-babble. + MALVOLIO. Sir Topas! + CLOWN. Maintain no words with him, good fellow.- Who, I, sir? Not + I, sir. God buy you, good Sir Topas.- Marry, amen.- I will sir, I + will. + MALVOLIO. Fool, fool, fool, I say! + CLOWN. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, sir? I am shent for + speaking to you. + MALVOLIO. Good fool, help me to some light and some paper. + I tell thee I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. + CLOWN. Well-a-day that you were, sir! + MALVOLIO. By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper, and + light; and convey what I will set down to my lady. It shall + advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did. + CLOWN. I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad + indeed, or do you but counterfeit? + MALVOLIO. Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. + CLOWN. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains. + I will fetch you light and paper and ink. + MALVOLIO. Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree; I prithe be + gone. + CLOWN. [Singing] + I am gone, sir, + And anon, sir, + I'll be with you again, + In a trice, + Like to the old Vice, + Your need to sustain; + + Who with dagger of lath, + In his rage and his wrath, + Cries, Ah, ha! to the devil, + Like a mad lad, + Pare thy nails, dad. + Adieu, goodman devil. Exit + + + + +SCENE III. +OLIVIA'S garden + +Enter SEBASTIAN + + SEBASTIAN. This is the air; that is the glorious sun; + This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't; + And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, + Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then? + I could not find him at the Elephant; + Yet there he was; and there I found this credit, + That he did range the town to seek me out. + His counsel now might do me golden service; + For though my soul disputes well with my sense + That this may be some error, but no madness, + Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune + So far exceed all instance, all discourse, + That I am ready to distrust mine eyes + And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me + To any other trust but that I am mad, + Or else the lady's mad; yet if 'twere so, + She could not sway her house, command her followers, + Take and give back affairs and their dispatch + With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing, + As I perceive she does. There's something in't + That is deceivable. But here the lady comes. + + Enter OLIVIA and PRIEST + + OLIVIA. Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, + Now go with me and with this holy man + Into the chantry by; there, before him + And underneath that consecrated roof, + Plight me the fun assurance of your faith, + That my most jealous and too doubtful soul + May live at peace. He shall conceal it + Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, + What time we will our celebration keep + According to my birth. What do you say? + SEBASTIAN. I'll follow this good man, and go with you; + And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. + OLIVIA. Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine + That they may fairly note this act of mine! Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Before OLIVIA's house + +Enter CLOWN and FABIAN + + FABIAN. Now, as thou lov'st me, let me see his letter. + CLOWN. Good Master Fabian, grant me another request. + FABIAN. Anything. + CLOWN. Do not desire to see this letter. + FABIAN. This is to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog + again. + + Enter DUKE, VIOLA, CURIO, and LORDS + + DUKE. Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends? + CLOWN. Ay, sir, we are some of her trappings. + DUKE. I know thee well. How dost thou, my good fellow? + CLOWN. Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my + friends. + DUKE. Just the contrary: the better for thy friends. + CLOWN. No, sir, the worse. + DUKE. How can that be? + CLOWN. Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me. Now my + foes tell me plainly I am an ass; so that by my foes, sir, I + profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends I am abused; + so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make + your two affirmatives, why then, the worse for my friends, and + the better for my foes. + DUKE. Why, this is excellent. + CLOWN. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my + friends. + DUKE. Thou shalt not be the worse for me. There's gold. + CLOWN. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could + make it another. + DUKE. O, you give me ill counsel. + CLOWN. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let + your flesh and blood obey it. + DUKE. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double-dealer. + There's another. + CLOWN. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying + is 'The third pays for all.' The triplex, sir, is a good tripping + measure; or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind- + one, two, three. + DUKE. You can fool no more money out of me at this throw; if you + will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring + her along with you, it may awake my bounty further. + CLOWN. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, + sir; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having + is the sin of covetousness. But, as you say, sir, let your bounty + take a nap; I will awake it anon. Exit + + Enter ANTONIO and OFFICERS + + VIOLA. Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. + DUKE. That face of his I do remember well; + Yet when I saw it last it was besmear'd + As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war. + A baubling vessel was he captain of, + For shallow draught and bulk unprizable, + With which such scathful grapple did he make + With the most noble bottom of our fleet + That very envy and the tongue of los + Cried fame and honour on him. What's the matter? + FIRST OFFICER. Orsino, this is that Antonio + That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy; + And this is he that did the Tiger board + When your young nephew Titus lost his leg. + Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, + In private brabble did we apprehend him. + VIOLA. He did me kindness, sir; drew on my side; + But in conclusion put strange speech upon me. + I know not what 'twas but distraction. + DUKE. Notable pirate, thou salt-water thief! + What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies + Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, + Hast made thine enemies? + ANTONIO. Orsino, noble sir, + Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you give me: + Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, + Though I confess, on base and ground enough, + Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither: + That most ingrateful boy there by your side + From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth + Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was. + His life I gave him, and did thereto ad + My love without retention or restraint, + All his in dedication; for his sake, + Did I expose myself, pure for his love, + Into the danger of this adverse town; + Drew to defend him when he was beset; + Where being apprehended, his false cunning, + Not meaning to partake with me in danger, + Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, + And grew a twenty years removed thing + While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, + Which I had recommended to his use + Not half an hour before. + VIOLA. How can this be? + DUKE. When came he to this town? + ANTONIO. To-day, my lord; and for three months before, + No int'rim, not a minute's vacancy, + Both day and night did we keep company. + + Enter OLIVIA and ATTENDANTS + + DUKE. Here comes the Countess; now heaven walks on earth. + But for thee, fellow- fellow, thy words are madness. + Three months this youth hath tended upon me- + But more of that anon. Take him aside. + OLIVIA. What would my lord, but that he may not have, + Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? + Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. + VIOLA. Madam? + DUKE. Gracious Olivia- + OLIVIA. What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord- + VIOLA. My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. + OLIVIA. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, + It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear + As howling after music. + DUKE. Still so cruel? + OLIVIA. Still so constant, lord. + DUKE. What, to perverseness? You uncivil lady, + To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars + My soul the faithfull'st off'rings hath breath'd out + That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do? + OLIVIA. Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. + DUKE. Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, + Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, + Kill what I love?- a savage jealousy + That sometime savours nobly. But hear me this: + Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, + And that I partly know the instrument + That screws me from my true place in your favour, + Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still; + But this your minion, whom I know you love, + And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, + Him will I tear out of that cruel eye + Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. + Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief: + I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love + To spite a raven's heart within a dove. + VIOLA. And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly, + To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. + OLIVIA. Where goes Cesario? + VIOLA. After him I love + More than I love these eyes, more than my life, + More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife. + If I do feign, you witnesses above + Punish my life for tainting of my love! + OLIVIA. Ay me, detested! How am I beguil'd! + VIOLA. Who does beguile you? Who does do you wrong? + OLIVIA. Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? + Call forth the holy father. Exit an ATTENDANT + DUKE. Come, away! + OLIVIA. Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay. + DUKE. Husband? + OLIVIA. Ay, husband; can he that deny? + DUKE. Her husband, sirrah? + VIOLA. No, my lord, not I. + OLIVIA. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear + That makes thee strangle thy propriety. + Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up; + Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art + As great as that thou fear'st. + + Enter PRIEST + + O, welcome, father! + Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, + Here to unfold- though lately we intended + To keep in darkness what occasion now + Reveals before 'tis ripe- what thou dost know + Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me. + PRIEST. A contract of eternal bond of love, + Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, + Attested by the holy close of lips, + Strength'ned by interchangement of your rings; + And all the ceremony of this compact + Seal'd in my function, by my testimony; + Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave, + I have travell'd but two hours. + DUKE. O thou dissembling cub! What wilt thou be, + When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? + Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow + That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? + Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet + Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. + VIOLA. My lord, I do protest- + OLIVIA. O, do not swear! + Hold little faith, though thou has too much fear. + + Enter SIR ANDREW + + AGUECHEEK. For the love of God, a surgeon! + Send one presently to Sir Toby. + OLIVIA. What's the matter? + AGUECHEEK. Has broke my head across, and has given Sir Toby a + bloody coxcomb too. For the love of God, your help! I had rather + than forty pound I were at home. + OLIVIA. Who has done this, Sir Andrew? + AGUECHEEK. The Count's gentleman, one Cesario. We took him for a + coward, but he's the very devil incardinate. + DUKE. My gentleman, Cesario? + AGUECHEEK. Od's lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for + nothing; and that that did, I was set on to do't by Sir Toby. + VIOLA. Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you. + You drew your sword upon me without cause; + But I bespake you fair and hurt you not. + + Enter SIR TOBY and CLOWN + + AGUECHEEK. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me; I think + you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. Here comes Sir Toby halting; + you shall hear more; but if he had not been in drink, he would + have tickl'd you othergates than he did. + DUKE. How now, gentleman? How is't with you? + SIR TOBY. That's all one; has hurt me, and there's th' end on't. + Sot, didst see Dick Surgeon, sot? + CLOWN. O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at + eight i' th' morning. + SIR TOBY. Then he's a rogue and a passy measures pavin. I hate a + drunken rogue. + OLIVIA. Away with him. Who hath made this havoc with them? + AGUECHEEK. I'll help you, Sir Toby, because we'll be dress'd + together. + SIR TOBY. Will you help- an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave, a + thin fac'd knave, a gull? + OLIVIA. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. + Exeunt CLOWN, FABIAN, SIR TOBY, and SIR ANDREW + + Enter SEBASTIAN + + SEBASTIAN. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman; + But, had it been the brother of my blood, + I must have done no less with wit and safety. + You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that + I do perceive it hath offended you. + Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows + We made each other but so late ago. + DUKE. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons! + A natural perspective, that is and is not. + SEBASTIAN. Antonio, O my dear Antonio! + How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me + Since I have lost thee! + ANTONIO. Sebastian are you? + SEBASTIAN. Fear'st thou that, Antonio? + ANTONIO. How have you made division of yourself? + An apple cleft in two is not more twin + Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? + OLIVIA. Most wonderful! + SEBASTIAN. Do I stand there? I never had a brother; + Nor can there be that deity in my nature + Of here and everywhere. I had a sister + Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd. + Of charity, what kin are you to me? + What countryman, what name, what parentage? + VIOLA. Of Messaline; Sebastian was my father. + Such a Sebastian was my brother too; + So went he suited to his watery tomb; + If spirits can assume both form and suit, + You come to fright us. + SEBASTIAN. A spirit I am indeed, + But am in that dimension grossly clad + Which from the womb I did participate. + Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, + I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, + And say 'Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!' + VIOLA. My father had a mole upon his brow. + SEBASTIAN. And so had mine. + VIOLA. And died that day when Viola from her birth + Had numb'red thirteen years. + SEBASTIAN. O, that record is lively in my soul! + He finished indeed his mortal act + That day that made my sister thirteen years. + VIOLA. If nothing lets to make us happy both + But this my masculine usurp'd attire, + Do not embrace me till each circumstance + Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump + That I am Viola; which to confirm, + I'll bring you to a captain in this town, + Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help + I was preserv'd to serve this noble Count. + All the occurrence of my fortune since + Hath been between this lady and this lord. + SEBASTIAN. [To OLIVIA] So Comes it, lady, you have been mistook; + But nature to her bias drew in that. + You would have been contracted to a maid; + Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd; + You are betroth'd both to a maid and man. + DUKE. Be not amaz'd; right noble is his blood. + If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, + I shall have share in this most happy wreck. + [To VIOLA] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times + Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. + VIOLA. And all those sayings will I overswear; + And all those swearings keep as true in soul + As doth that orbed continent the fire + That severs day from night. + DUKE. Give me thy hand; + And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. + VIOLA. The captain that did bring me first on shore + Hath my maid's garments. He, upon some action, + Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit, + A gentleman and follower of my lady's. + OLIVIA. He shall enlarge him. Fetch Malvolio hither; + And yet, alas, now I remember me, + They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract. + + Re-enter CLOWN, with a letter, and FABIAN + + A most extracting frenzy of mine own + From my remembrance clearly banish'd his. + How does he, sirrah? + CLOWN. Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the stave's end as well + as a man in his case may do. Has here writ a letter to you; I + should have given 't you to-day morning, but as a madman's + epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are + deliver'd. + OLIVIA. Open't, and read it. + CLOWN. Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the + madman. [Reads madly ] 'By the Lord, madam-' + OLIVIA. How now! Art thou mad? + CLOWN. No, madam, I do but read madness. An your ladyship will have + it as it ought to be, you must allow vox. + OLIVIA. Prithee read i' thy right wits. + CLOWN. So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read + thus; therefore perpend, my Princess, and give ear. + OLIVIA. [To FABIAN] Read it you, sirrah. + FABIAN. [Reads] 'By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world + shall know it. Though you have put me into darkness and given + your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my + senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that + induced me to the semblance I put on, with the which I doubt not + but to do myself much right or you much shame. Think of me as you + please. I leave my duty a little unthought of, and speak out of + my injury. + THE MADLY-US'D MALVOLIO' + + OLIVIA. Did he write this? + CLOWN. Ay, Madam. + DUKE. This savours not much of distraction. + OLIVIA. See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither. + Exit FABIAN + My lord, so please you, these things further thought on, + To think me as well a sister as a wife, + One day shall crown th' alliance on't, so please you, + Here at my house, and at my proper cost. + DUKE. Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer. + [To VIOLA] Your master quits you; and, for your service done + him, + So much against the mettle of your sex, + So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, + And since you call'd me master for so long, + Here is my hand; you shall from this time be + You master's mistress. + OLIVIA. A sister! You are she. + + Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO + + DUKE. Is this the madman? + OLIVIA. Ay, my lord, this same. + How now, Malvolio! + MALVOLIO. Madam, you have done me wrong, + Notorious wrong. + OLIVIA. Have I, Malvolio? No. + MALVOLIO. Lady, you have. Pray you peruse that letter. + You must not now deny it is your hand; + Write from it if you can, in hand or phrase; + Or say 'tis not your seal, not your invention; + You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, + And tell me, in the modesty of honour, + Why you have given me such clear lights of favour, + Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you, + To put on yellow stockings, and to frown + Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people; + And, acting this in an obedient hope, + Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, + Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, + And made the most notorious geck and gul + That e'er invention play'd on? Tell me why. + OLIVIA. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, + Though, I confess, much like the character; + But out of question 'tis Maria's hand. + And now I do bethink me, it was she + First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling, + And in such forms which here were presuppos'd + Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content; + This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee, + But, when we know the grounds and authors of it, + Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge + Of thine own cause. + FABIAN. Good madam, hear me speak, + And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come + Taint the condition of this present hour, + Which I have wond'red at. In hope it shall not, + Most freely I confess myself and Toby + Set this device against Malvolio here, + Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts + We had conceiv'd against him. Maria writ + The letter, at Sir Toby's great importance, + In recompense whereof he hath married her. + How with a sportful malice it was follow'd + May rather pluck on laughter than revenge, + If that the injuries be justly weigh'd + That have on both sides pass'd. + OLIVIA. Alas, poor fool, how have they baffl'd thee! + CLOWN. Why, 'Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some + have greatness thrown upon them.' I was one, sir, in this + interlude- one Sir Topas, sir; but that's all one. 'By the Lord, + fool, I am not mad!' But do you remember- 'Madam, why laugh you + at such a barren rascal? An you smile not, he's gagg'd'? And thus + the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. + MALVOLIO. I'll be reveng'd on the whole pack of you. + Exit + OLIVIA. He hath been most notoriously abus'd. + DUKE. Pursue him, and entreat him to a peace; + He hath not told us of the captain yet. + When that is known, and golden time convents, + A solemn combination shall be made + Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, + We will not part from hence. Cesario, come; + For so you shall be while you are a man; + But when in other habits you are seen, + Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen. + Exeunt all but the CLOWN + + CLOWN sings + + When that I was and a little tiny boy, + With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, + A foolish thing was but a toy, + For the rain it raineth every day. + + But when I came to man's estate, + With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, + 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, + For the rain it raineth every day. + + But when I came, alas! to wive, + With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, + By swaggering could I never thrive, + For the rain it raineth every day. + + But when I came unto my beds, + With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, + With toss-pots still had drunken heads, + For the rain it raineth every day. + + A great while ago the world begun, + With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, + But that's all one, our play is done, + And we'll strive to please you every day. + Exit + +THE END + + + +<> + + + +1595 + +THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + DUKE OF MILAN, father to Silvia + VALENTINE, one of the two gentlemen + PROTEUS, " " " " " + ANTONIO, father to Proteus + THURIO, a foolish rival to Valentine + EGLAMOUR, agent for Silvia in her escape + SPEED, a clownish servant to Valentine + LAUNCE, the like to Proteus + PANTHINO, servant to Antonio + HOST, where Julia lodges in Milan + OUTLAWS, with Valentine + + JULIA, a lady of Verona, beloved of Proteus + SILVIA, the Duke's daughter, beloved of Valentine + LUCETTA, waiting-woman to Julia + + SERVANTS + MUSICIANS + + + + +<> + + + +SCENE: +Verona; Milan; the frontiers of Mantua + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Verona. An open place + +Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS + + VALENTINE. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus: + Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. + Were't not affection chains thy tender days + To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love, + I rather would entreat thy company + To see the wonders of the world abroad, + Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home, + Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. + But since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive therein, + Even as I would, when I to love begin. + PROTEUS. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu! + Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest + Some rare noteworthy object in thy travel. + Wish me partaker in thy happiness + When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger, + If ever danger do environ thee, + Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, + For I will be thy headsman, Valentine. + VALENTINE. And on a love-book pray for my success? + PROTEUS. Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee. + VALENTINE. That's on some shallow story of deep love: + How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont. + PROTEUS. That's a deep story of a deeper love; + For he was more than over shoes in love. + VALENTINE. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love, + And yet you never swum the Hellespont. + PROTEUS. Over the boots! Nay, give me not the boots. + VALENTINE. No, I will not, for it boots thee not. + PROTEUS. What? + VALENTINE. To be in love- where scorn is bought with groans, + Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment's mirth + With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights; + If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain; + If lost, why then a grievous labour won; + However, but a folly bought with wit, + Or else a wit by folly vanquished. + PROTEUS. So, by your circumstance, you call me fool. + VALENTINE. So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove. + PROTEUS. 'Tis love you cavil at; I am not Love. + VALENTINE. Love is your master, for he masters you; + And he that is so yoked by a fool, + Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise. + PROTEUS. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud + The eating canker dwells, so eating love + Inhabits in the finest wits of all. + VALENTINE. And writers say, as the most forward bud + Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, + Even so by love the young and tender wit + Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud, + Losing his verdure even in the prime, + And all the fair effects of future hopes. + But wherefore waste I time to counsel the + That art a votary to fond desire? + Once more adieu. My father at the road + Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd. + PROTEUS. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. + VALENTINE. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave. + To Milan let me hear from thee by letters + Of thy success in love, and what news else + Betideth here in absence of thy friend; + And I likewise will visit thee with mine. + PROTEUS. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan! + VALENTINE. As much to you at home; and so farewell! + Exit VALENTINE + PROTEUS. He after honour hunts, I after love; + He leaves his friends to dignify them more: + I leave myself, my friends, and all for love. + Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphis'd me, + Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, + War with good counsel, set the world at nought; + Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought. + + Enter SPEED + + SPEED. Sir Proteus, save you! Saw you my master? + PROTEUS. But now he parted hence to embark for Milan. + SPEED. Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already, + And I have play'd the sheep in losing him. + PROTEUS. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray, + An if the shepherd be awhile away. + SPEED. You conclude that my master is a shepherd then, and + I a sheep? + PROTEUS. I do. + SPEED. Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep. + PROTEUS. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. + SPEED. This proves me still a sheep. + PROTEUS. True; and thy master a shepherd. + SPEED. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. + PROTEUS. It shall go hard but I'll prove it by another. + SPEED. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the + shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me; + therefore, I am no sheep. + PROTEUS. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd; the shepherd for + food follows not the sheep: thou for wages followest thy master; + thy master for wages follows not thee. Therefore, thou art a + sheep. + SPEED. Such another proof will make me cry 'baa.' + PROTEUS. But dost thou hear? Gav'st thou my letter to Julia? + SPEED. Ay, sir; I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a lac'd + mutton; and she, a lac'd mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing + for my labour. + PROTEUS. Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons. + SPEED. If the ground be overcharg'd, you were best stick her. + PROTEUS. Nay, in that you are astray: 'twere best pound you. + SPEED. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for carrying your + letter. + PROTEUS. You mistake; I mean the pound- a pinfold. + SPEED. From a pound to a pin? Fold it over and over, + 'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover. + PROTEUS. But what said she? + SPEED. [Nodding] Ay. + PROTEUS. Nod- ay. Why, that's 'noddy.' + SPEED. You mistook, sir; I say she did nod; and you ask me if she + did nod; and I say 'Ay.' + PROTEUS. And that set together is 'noddy.' + SPEED. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for + your pains. + PROTEUS. No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter. + SPEED. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you. + PROTEUS. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? + SPEED. Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly; having nothing but the + word 'noddy' for my pains. + PROTEUS. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. + SPEED. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse. + PROTEUS. Come, come, open the matter; in brief, what said she? + SPEED. Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both + at once delivered. + PROTEUS. Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she? + SPEED. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her. + PROTEUS. Why, couldst thou perceive so much from her? + SPEED. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so + much as a ducat for delivering your letter; and being so hard to + me that brought your mind, I fear she'll prove as hard to you in + telling your mind. Give her no token but stones, for she's as + hard as steel. + PROTEUS. What said she? Nothing? + SPEED. No, not so much as 'Take this for thy pains.' To testify + your bounty, I thank you, you have testern'd me; in requital + whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself; and so, sir, + I'll commend you to my master. + PROTEUS. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck, + Which cannot perish, having thee aboard, + Being destin'd to a drier death on shore. Exit SPEED + I must go send some better messenger. + I fear my Julia would not deign my lines, + Receiving them from such a worthless post. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Verona. The garden Of JULIA'S house + +Enter JULIA and LUCETTA + + JULIA. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, + Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love? + LUCETTA. Ay, madam; so you stumble not unheedfully. + JULIA. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen + That every day with parle encounter me, + In thy opinion which is worthiest love? + LUCETTA. Please you, repeat their names; I'll show my mind + According to my shallow simple skill. + JULIA. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour? + LUCETTA. As of a knight well-spoken, neat, and fine; + But, were I you, he never should be mine. + JULIA. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? + LUCETTA. Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so. + JULIA. What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus? + LUCETTA. Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us! + JULIA. How now! what means this passion at his name? + LUCETTA. Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a passing shame + That I, unworthy body as I am, + Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. + JULIA. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? + LUCETTA. Then thus: of many good I think him best. + JULIA. Your reason? + LUCETTA. I have no other but a woman's reason: + I think him so, because I think him so. + JULIA. And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him? + LUCETTA. Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. + JULIA. Why, he, of all the rest, hath never mov'd me. + LUCETTA. Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. + JULIA. His little speaking shows his love but small. + LUCETTA. Fire that's closest kept burns most of all. + JULIA. They do not love that do not show their love. + LUCETTA. O, they love least that let men know their love. + JULIA. I would I knew his mind. + LUCETTA. Peruse this paper, madam. + JULIA. 'To Julia'- Say, from whom? + LUCETTA. That the contents will show. + JULIA. Say, say, who gave it thee? + LUCETTA. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Proteus. + He would have given it you; but I, being in the way, + Did in your name receive it; pardon the fault, I pray. + JULIA. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker! + Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? + To whisper and conspire against my youth? + Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth, + And you an officer fit for the place. + There, take the paper; see it be return'd; + Or else return no more into my sight. + LUCETTA. To plead for love deserves more fee than hate. + JULIA. Will ye be gone? + LUCETTA. That you may ruminate. Exit + JULIA. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the letter. + It were a shame to call her back again, + And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. + What fool is she, that knows I am a maid + And would not force the letter to my view! + Since maids, in modesty, say 'No' to that + Which they would have the profferer construe 'Ay.' + Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love, + That like a testy babe will scratch the nurse, + And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod! + How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, + When willingly I would have had her here! + How angerly I taught my brow to frown, + When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile! + My penance is to call Lucetta back + And ask remission for my folly past. + What ho! Lucetta! + + Re-enter LUCETTA + + LUCETTA. What would your ladyship? + JULIA. Is't near dinner time? + LUCETTA. I would it were, + That you might kill your stomach on your meat + And not upon your maid. + JULIA. What is't that you took up so gingerly? + LUCETTA. Nothing. + JULIA. Why didst thou stoop then? + LUCETTA. To take a paper up that I let fall. + JULIA. And is that paper nothing? + LUCETTA. Nothing concerning me. + JULIA. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. + LUCETTA. Madam, it will not lie where it concerns, + Unless it have a false interpreter. + JULIA. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. + LUCETTA. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune. + Give me a note; your ladyship can set. + JULIA. As little by such toys as may be possible. + Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' Love.' + LUCETTA. It is too heavy for so light a tune. + JULIA. Heavy! belike it hath some burden then. + LUCETTA. Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it. + JULIA. And why not you? + LUCETTA. I cannot reach so high. + JULIA. Let's see your song. [LUCETTA withholds the letter] + How now, minion! + LUCETTA. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out. + And yet methinks I do not like this tune. + JULIA. You do not! + LUCETTA. No, madam; 'tis too sharp. + JULIA. You, minion, are too saucy. + LUCETTA. Nay, now you are too flat + And mar the concord with too harsh a descant; + There wanteth but a mean to fill your song. + JULIA. The mean is drown'd with your unruly bass. + LUCETTA. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus. + JULIA. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. + Here is a coil with protestation! [Tears the letter] + Go, get you gone; and let the papers lie. + You would be fing'ring them, to anger me. + LUCETTA. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd + To be so ang'red with another letter. Exit + JULIA. Nay, would I were so ang'red with the same! + O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! + Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey + And kill the bees that yield it with your stings! + I'll kiss each several paper for amends. + Look, here is writ 'kind Julia.' Unkind Julia, + As in revenge of thy ingratitude, + I throw thy name against the bruising stones, + Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. + And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus.' + Poor wounded name! my bosom,,as a bed, + Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd; + And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. + But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down. + Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away + Till I have found each letter in the letter- + Except mine own name; that some whirlwind bear + Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock, + And throw it thence into the raging sea. + Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ: + 'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, + To the sweet Julia.' That I'll tear away; + And yet I will not, sith so prettily + He couples it to his complaining names. + Thus will I fold them one upon another; + Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. + + Re-enter LUCETTA + + LUCETTA. Madam, + Dinner is ready, and your father stays. + JULIA. Well, let us go. + LUCETTA. What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here? + JULIA. If you respect them, best to take them up. + LUCETTA. Nay, I was taken up for laying them down; + Yet here they shall not lie for catching cold. + JULIA. I see you have a month's mind to them. + LUCETTA. Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see; + I see things too, although you judge I wink. + JULIA. Come, come; will't please you go? Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Verona. ANTONIO'S house + +Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO + + ANTONIO. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that + Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? + PANTHINO. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. + ANTONIO. Why, what of him? + PANTHINO. He wond'red that your lordship + Would suffer him to spend his youth at home, + While other men, of slender reputation, + Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: + Some to the wars, to try their fortune there; + Some to discover islands far away; + Some to the studious universities. + For any, or for all these exercises, + He said that Proteus, your son, was meet; + And did request me to importune you + To let him spend his time no more at home, + Which would be great impeachment to his age, + In having known no travel in his youth. + ANTONIO. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that + Whereon this month I have been hammering. + I have consider'd well his loss of time, + And how he cannot be a perfect man, + Not being tried and tutor'd in the world: + Experience is by industry achiev'd, + And perfected by the swift course of time. + Then tell me whither were I best to send him. + PANTHINO. I think your lordship is not ignorant + How his companion, youthful Valentine, + Attends the Emperor in his royal court. + ANTONIO. I know it well. + PANTHINO. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither: + There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, + Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen, + And be in eye of every exercise + Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. + ANTONIO. I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis'd; + And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it, + The execution of it shall make known: + Even with the speediest expedition + I will dispatch him to the Emperor's court. + PANTHINO. To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso + With other gentlemen of good esteem + Are journeying to salute the Emperor, + And to commend their service to his will. + ANTONIO. Good company; with them shall Proteus go. + + Enter PROTEUS + + And- in good time!- now will we break with him. + PROTEUS. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life! + Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; + Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn. + O that our fathers would applaud our loves, + To seal our happiness with their consents! + O heavenly Julia! + ANTONIO. How now! What letter are you reading there? + PROTEUS. May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two + Of commendations sent from Valentine, + Deliver'd by a friend that came from him. + ANTONIO. Lend me the letter; let me see what news. + PROTEUS. There is no news, my lord; but that he writes + How happily he lives, how well-belov'd + And daily graced by the Emperor; + Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune. + ANTONIO. And how stand you affected to his wish? + PROTEUS. As one relying on your lordship's will, + And not depending on his friendly wish. + ANTONIO. My will is something sorted with his wish. + Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed; + For what I will, I will, and there an end. + I am resolv'd that thou shalt spend some time + With Valentinus in the Emperor's court; + What maintenance he from his friends receives, + Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. + To-morrow be in readiness to go- + Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. + PROTEUS. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided; + Please you, deliberate a day or two. + ANTONIO. Look what thou want'st shall be sent after thee. + No more of stay; to-morrow thou must go. + Come on, Panthino; you shall be employ'd + To hasten on his expedition. + Exeunt ANTONIO and PANTHINO + PROTEUS. Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning, + And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd. + I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter, + Lest he should take exceptions to my love; + And with the vantage of mine own excuse + Hath he excepted most against my love. + O, how this spring of love resembleth + The uncertain glory of an April day, + Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, + And by an by a cloud takes all away! + + Re-enter PANTHINO + + PANTHINO. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you; + He is in haste; therefore, I pray you, go. + PROTEUS. Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto; + And yet a thousand times it answers 'No.' Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +Milan. The DUKE'S palace + +Enter VALENTINE and SPEED + + SPEED. Sir, your glove. + VALENTINE. Not mine: my gloves are on. + SPEED. Why, then, this may be yours; for this is but one. + VALENTINE. Ha! let me see; ay, give it me, it's mine; + Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! + Ah, Silvia! Silvia! + SPEED. [Calling] Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! + VALENTINE. How now, sirrah? + SPEED. She is not within hearing, sir. + VALENTINE. Why, sir, who bade you call her? + SPEED. Your worship, sir; or else I mistook. + VALENTINE. Well, you'll still be too forward. + SPEED. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow. + VALENTINE. Go to, sir; tell me, do you know Madam Silvia? + SPEED. She that your worship loves? + VALENTINE. Why, how know you that I am in love? + SPEED. Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learn'd, like + Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a malcontent; to relish a + love-song, like a robin redbreast; to walk alone, like one that + had the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his + A B C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; + to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears + robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were + wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walk'd, to + walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently + after dinner; when you look'd sadly, it was for want of money. + And now you are metamorphis'd with a mistress, that, when I look + on you, I can hardly think you my master. + VALENTINE. Are all these things perceiv'd in me? + SPEED. They are all perceiv'd without ye. + VALENTINE. Without me? They cannot. + SPEED. Without you! Nay, that's certain; for, without you were so + simple, none else would; but you are so without these follies + that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the + water in an urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a + physician to comment on your malady. + VALENTINE. But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? + SPEED. She that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper? + VALENTINE. Hast thou observ'd that? Even she, I mean. + SPEED. Why, sir, I know her not. + VALENTINE. Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st + her not? + SPEED. Is she not hard-favour'd, sir? + VALENTINE. Not so fair, boy, as well-favour'd. + SPEED. Sir, I know that well enough. + VALENTINE. What dost thou know? + SPEED. That she is not so fair as, of you, well-favour'd. + VALENTINE. I mean that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour + infinite. + SPEED. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all + count. + VALENTINE. How painted? and how out of count? + SPEED. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no man counts + of her beauty. + VALENTINE. How esteem'st thou me? I account of her beauty. + SPEED. You never saw her since she was deform'd. + VALENTINE. How long hath she been deform'd? + SPEED. Ever since you lov'd her. + VALENTINE. I have lov'd her ever since I saw her, and still + I see her beautiful. + SPEED. If you love her, you cannot see her. + VALENTINE. Why? + SPEED. Because Love is blind. O that you had mine eyes; or your own + eyes had the lights they were wont to have when you chid at Sir + Proteus for going ungarter'd! + VALENTINE. What should I see then? + SPEED. Your own present folly and her passing deformity; for he, + being in love, could not see to garter his hose; and you, being + in love, cannot see to put on your hose. + VALENTINE. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for last morning you + could not see to wipe my shoes. + SPEED. True, sir; I was in love with my bed. I thank you, you + swing'd me for my love, which makes me the bolder to chide you + for yours. + VALENTINE. In conclusion, I stand affected to her. + SPEED. I would you were set, so your affection would cease. + VALENTINE. Last night she enjoin'd me to write some lines to one + she loves. + SPEED. And have you? + VALENTINE. I have. + SPEED. Are they not lamely writ? + VALENTINE. No, boy, but as well as I can do them. + + Enter SILVIA + + Peace! here she comes. + SPEED. [Aside] O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet! + Now will he interpret to her. + VALENTINE. Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows. + SPEED. [Aside] O, give ye good ev'n! + Here's a million of manners. + SILVIA. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. + SPEED. [Aside] He should give her interest, and she gives it him. + VALENTINE. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter + Unto the secret nameless friend of yours; + Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, + But for my duty to your ladyship. + SILVIA. I thank you, gentle servant. 'Tis very clerkly done. + VALENTINE. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; + For, being ignorant to whom it goes, + I writ at random, very doubtfully. + SILVIA. Perchance you think too much of so much pains? + VALENTINE. No, madam; so it stead you, I will write, + Please you command, a thousand times as much; + And yet- + SILVIA. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; + And yet I will not name it- and yet I care not. + And yet take this again- and yet I thank you- + Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. + SPEED. [Aside] And yet you will; and yet another' yet.' + VALENTINE. What means your ladyship? Do you not like it? + SILVIA. Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ; + But, since unwillingly, take them again. + Nay, take them. [Gives hack the letter] + VALENTINE. Madam, they are for you. + SILVIA. Ay, ay, you writ them, sir, at my request; + But I will none of them; they are for you: + I would have had them writ more movingly. + VALENTINE. Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. + SILVIA. And when it's writ, for my sake read it over; + And if it please you, so; if not, why, so. + VALENTINE. If it please me, madam, what then? + SILVIA. Why, if it please you, take it for your labour. + And so good morrow, servant. Exit SILVIA + SPEED. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, + As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple! + My master sues to her; and she hath taught her suitor, + He being her pupil, to become her tutor. + O excellent device! Was there ever heard a better, + That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter? + VALENTINE. How now, sir! What are you reasoning with yourself? + SPEED. Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason. + VALENTINE. To do what? + SPEED. To be a spokesman from Madam Silvia? + VALENTINE. To whom? + SPEED. To yourself; why, she woos you by a figure. + VALENTINE. What figure? + SPEED. By a letter, I should say. + VALENTINE. Why, she hath not writ to me. + SPEED. What need she, when she hath made you write to yourself? + Why, do you not perceive the jest? + VALENTINE. No, believe me. + SPEED. No believing you indeed, sir. But did you perceive her + earnest? + VALENTINE. She gave me none except an angry word. + SPEED. Why, she hath given you a letter. + VALENTINE. That's the letter I writ to her friend. + SPEED. And that letter hath she deliver'd, and there an end. + VALENTINE. I would it were no worse. + SPEED. I'll warrant you 'tis as well. + 'For often have you writ to her; and she, in modesty, + Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; + Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover, + Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover.' + All this I speak in print, for in print I found it. Why muse you, + sir? 'Tis dinner time. + VALENTINE. I have din'd. + SPEED. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love can feed on + the air, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals, and would + fain have meat. O, be not like your mistress! Be moved, be moved. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Verona. JULIA'S house + +Enter PROTEUS and JULIA + + PROTEUS. Have patience, gentle Julia. + JULIA. I must, where is no remedy. + PROTEUS. When possibly I can, I will return. + JULIA. If you turn not, you will return the sooner. + Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. + [Giving a ring] + PROTEUS. Why, then, we'll make exchange. Here, take you this. + JULIA. And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. + PROTEUS. Here is my hand for my true constancy; + And when that hour o'erslips me in the day + Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, + The next ensuing hour some foul mischance + Torment me for my love's forgetfulness! + My father stays my coming; answer not; + The tide is now- nay, not thy tide of tears: + That tide will stay me longer than I should. + Julia, farewell! Exit JULIA + What, gone without a word? + Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak; + For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it. + + Enter PANTHINO + + PANTHINO. Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for. + PROTEUS. Go; I come, I come. + Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Verona. A street + +Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog + + LAUNCE. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the + kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have receiv'd my + proportion, like the Prodigious Son, and am going with Sir + Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab my dog be the + sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father + wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her + hands, and all our house in a great perplexity; yet did not this + cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He is a stone, a very pebble + stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog. A Jew would have + wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, + look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you + the manner of it. This shoe is my father; no, this left shoe is + my father; no, no, left shoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be so + neither; yes, it is so, it is so, it hath the worser sole. This + shoe with the hole in it is my mother, and this my father. A + vengeance on 't! There 'tis. Now, sir, this staff is my sister, + for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand; + this hat is Nan our maid; I am the dog; no, the dog is himself, + and I am the dog- O, the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. + Now come I to my father: 'Father, your blessing.' Now should not + the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my father; + well, he weeps on. Now come I to my mother. O that she could + speak now like a wood woman! Well, I kiss her- why there 'tis; + here's my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to my sister; + mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all this while sheds not a + tear, nor speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my + tears. + + Enter PANTHINO + + PANTHINO. Launce, away, away, aboard! Thy master is shipp'd, and + thou art to post after with oars. What's the matter? Why weep'st + thou, man? Away, ass! You'll lose the tide if you tarry any + longer. + LAUNCE. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the + unkindest tied that ever any man tied. + PANTHINO. What's the unkindest tide? + LAUNCE. Why, he that's tied here, Crab, my dog. + PANTHINO. Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood, and, in losing + the flood, lose thy voyage, and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy + master, and, in losing thy master, lose thy service, and, in + losing thy service- Why dost thou stop my mouth? + LAUNCE. For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue. + PANTHINO. Where should I lose my tongue? + LAUNCE. In thy tale. + PANTHINO. In thy tail! + LAUNCE. Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and the + service, and the tied! Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able + to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive + the boat with my sighs. + PANTHINO. Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. + LAUNCE. Sir, call me what thou dar'st. + PANTHINO. Will thou go? + LAUNCE. Well, I will go. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Milan. The DUKE'S palace + +Enter SILVIA, VALENTINE, THURIO, and SPEED + + SILVIA. Servant! + VALENTINE. Mistress? + SPEED. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. + VALENTINE. Ay, boy, it's for love. + SPEED. Not of you. + VALENTINE. Of my mistress, then. + SPEED. 'Twere good you knock'd him. Exit + SILVIA. Servant, you are sad. + VALENTINE. Indeed, madam, I seem so. + THURIO. Seem you that you are not? + VALENTINE. Haply I do. + THURIO. So do counterfeits. + VALENTINE. So do you. + THURIO. What seem I that I am not? + VALENTINE. Wise. + THURIO. What instance of the contrary? + VALENTINE. Your folly. + THURIO. And how quote you my folly? + VALENTINE. I quote it in your jerkin. + THURIO. My jerkin is a doublet. + VALENTINE. Well, then, I'll double your folly. + THURIO. How? + SILVIA. What, angry, Sir Thurio! Do you change colour? + VALENTINE. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chameleon. + THURIO. That hath more mind to feed on your blood than live in your + air. + VALENTINE. You have said, sir. + THURIO. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. + VALENTINE. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin. + SILVIA. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off. + VALENTINE. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. + SILVIA. Who is that, servant? + VALENTINE. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire. Sir Thurio + borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and spends what he + borrows kindly in your company. + THURIO. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your + wit bankrupt. + VALENTINE. I know it well, sir; you have an exchequer of words, + and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it + appears by their bare liveries that they live by your bare words. + + Enter DUKE + + SILVIA. No more, gentlemen, no more. Here comes my father. + DUKE. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. + Sir Valentine, your father is in good health. + What say you to a letter from your friends + Of much good news? + VALENTINE. My lord, I will be thankful + To any happy messenger from thence. + DUKE. Know ye Don Antonio, your countryman? + VALENTINE. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman + To be of worth and worthy estimation, + And not without desert so well reputed. + DUKE. Hath he not a son? + VALENTINE. Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves + The honour and regard of such a father. + DUKE. You know him well? + VALENTINE. I knew him as myself; for from our infancy + We have convers'd and spent our hours together; + And though myself have been an idle truant, + Omitting the sweet benefit of time + To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, + Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name, + Made use and fair advantage of his days: + His years but young, but his experience old; + His head unmellowed, but his judgment ripe; + And, in a word, for far behind his worth + Comes all the praises that I now bestow, + He is complete in feature and in mind, + With all good grace to grace a gentleman. + DUKE. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good, + He is as worthy for an empress' love + As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. + Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me + With commendation from great potentates, + And here he means to spend his time awhile. + I think 'tis no unwelcome news to you. + VALENTINE. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. + DUKE. Welcome him, then, according to his worth- + Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Thurio; + For Valentine, I need not cite him to it. + I will send him hither to you presently. Exit DUKE + VALENTINE. This is the gentleman I told your ladyship + Had come along with me but that his mistresss + Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. + SILVIA. Belike that now she hath enfranchis'd them + Upon some other pawn for fealty. + VALENTINE. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still. + SILVIA. Nay, then, he should be blind; and, being blind, + How could he see his way to seek out you? + VALENTINE. Why, lady, Love hath twenty pair of eyes. + THURIO. They say that Love hath not an eye at all. + VALENTINE. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself; + Upon a homely object Love can wink. Exit THURIO + + Enter PROTEUS + + SILVIA. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman. + VALENTINE. Welcome, dear Proteus! Mistress, I beseech you + Confirm his welcome with some special favour. + SILVIA. His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, + If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. + VALENTINE. Mistress, it is; sweet lady, entertain him + To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. + SILVIA. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. + PROTEUS. Not so, sweet lady; but too mean a servant + To have a look of such a worthy mistress. + VALENTINE. Leave off discourse of disability; + Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. + PROTEUS. My duty will I boast of, nothing else. + SILVIA. And duty never yet did want his meed. + Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. + PROTEUS. I'll die on him that says so but yourself. + SILVIA. That you are welcome? + PROTEUS. That you are worthless. + + Re-enter THURIO + + THURIO. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. + SILVIA. I wait upon his pleasure. Come, Sir Thurio, + Go with me. Once more, new servant, welcome. + I'll leave you to confer of home affairs; + When you have done we look to hear from you. + PROTEUS. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. + Exeunt SILVIA and THURIO + VALENTINE. Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? + PROTEUS. Your friends are well, and have them much commended. + VALENTINE. And how do yours? + PROTEUS. I left them all in health. + VALENTINE. How does your lady, and how thrives your love? + PROTEUS. My tales of love were wont to weary you; + I know you joy not in a love-discourse. + VALENTINE. Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now; + I have done penance for contemning Love, + Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me + With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, + With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; + For, in revenge of my contempt of love, + Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes + And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow. + O gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord, + And hath so humbled me as I confess + There is no woe to his correction, + Nor to his service no such joy on earth. + Now no discourse, except it be of love; + Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, + Upon the very naked name of love. + PROTEUS. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye. + Was this the idol that you worship so? + VALENTINE. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? + PROTEUS. No; but she is an earthly paragon. + VALENTINE. Call her divine. + PROTEUS. I will not flatter her. + VALENTINE. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises! + PROTEUS. When I was sick you gave me bitter pills, + And I must minister the like to you. + VALENTINE. Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, + Yet let her be a principality, + Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. + PROTEUS. Except my mistress. + VALENTINE. Sweet, except not any; + Except thou wilt except against my love. + PROTEUS. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? + VALENTINE. And I will help thee to prefer her too: + She shall be dignified with this high honour- + To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth + Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss + And, of so great a favour growing proud, + Disdain to root the summer-swelling flow'r + And make rough winter everlastingly. + PROTEUS. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? + VALENTINE. Pardon me, Proteus; all I can is nothing + To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing; + She is alone. + PROTEUS. Then let her alone. + VALENTINE. Not for the world! Why, man, she is mine own; + And I as rich in having such a jewel + As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, + The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. + Forgive me that I do not dream on thee, + Because thou seest me dote upon my love. + My foolish rival, that her father likes + Only for his possessions are so huge, + Is gone with her along; and I must after, + For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy. + PROTEUS. But she loves you? + VALENTINE. Ay, and we are betroth'd; nay more, our marriage-hour, + With all the cunning manner of our flight, + Determin'd of- how I must climb her window, + The ladder made of cords, and all the means + Plotted and 'greed on for my happiness. + Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber, + In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel. + PROTEUS. Go on before; I shall enquire you forth; + I must unto the road to disembark + Some necessaries that I needs must use; + And then I'll presently attend you. + VALENTINE. Will you make haste? + PROTEUS. I will. Exit VALENTINE + Even as one heat another heat expels + Or as one nail by strength drives out another, + So the remembrance of my former love + Is by a newer object quite forgotten. + Is it my mind, or Valentinus' praise, + Her true perfection, or my false transgression, + That makes me reasonless to reason thus? + She is fair; and so is Julia that I love- + That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd; + Which like a waxen image 'gainst a fire + Bears no impression of the thing it was. + Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold, + And that I love him not as I was wont. + O! but I love his lady too too much, + And that's the reason I love him so little. + How shall I dote on her with more advice + That thus without advice begin to love her! + 'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld, + And that hath dazzled my reason's light; + But when I look on her perfections, + There is no reason but I shall be blind. + If I can check my erring love, I will; + If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. Exit + + + + +SCENE V. +Milan. A street + +Enter SPEED and LAUNCE severally + + SPEED. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Padua. + LAUNCE. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I + reckon this always, that a man is never undone till he be hang'd, + nor never welcome to a place till some certain shot be paid, and + the hostess say 'Welcome!' + SPEED. Come on, you madcap; I'll to the alehouse with you + presently; where, for one shot of five pence, thou shalt have + five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with + Madam Julia? + LAUNCE. Marry, after they clos'd in earnest, they parted very + fairly in jest. + SPEED. But shall she marry him? + LAUNCE. No. + SPEED. How then? Shall he marry her? + LAUNCE. No, neither. + SPEED. What, are they broken? + LAUNCE. No, they are both as whole as a fish. + SPEED. Why then, how stands the matter with them? + LAUNCE. Marry, thus: when it stands well with him, it stands well + with her. + SPEED. What an ass art thou! I understand thee not. + LAUNCE. What a block art thou that thou canst not! My staff + understands me. + SPEED. What thou say'st? + LAUNCE. Ay, and what I do too; look thee, I'll but lean, and my + staff understands me. + SPEED. It stands under thee, indeed. + LAUNCE. Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one. + SPEED. But tell me true, will't be a match? + LAUNCE. Ask my dog. If he say ay, it will; if he say no, it will; + if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will. + SPEED. The conclusion is, then, that it will. + LAUNCE. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a + parable. + SPEED. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how say'st thou + that my master is become a notable lover? + LAUNCE. I never knew him otherwise. + SPEED. Than how? + LAUNCE. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be. + SPEED. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistak'st me. + LAUNCE. Why, fool, I meant not thee, I meant thy master. + SPEED. I tell thee my master is become a hot lover. + LAUNCE. Why, I tell thee I care not though he burn himself in love. + If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse; if not, thou art an + Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a Christian. + SPEED. Why? + LAUNCE. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to go to + the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go? + SPEED. At thy service. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE VI. +Milan. The DUKE's palace + +Enter PROTEUS + + PROTEUS. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; + To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn; + To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn; + And ev'n that pow'r which gave me first my oath + Provokes me to this threefold perjury: + Love bade me swear, and Love bids me forswear. + O sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinn'd, + Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it! + At first I did adore a twinkling star, + But now I worship a celestial sun. + Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken; + And he wants wit that wants resolved will + To learn his wit t' exchange the bad for better. + Fie, fie, unreverend tongue, to call her bad + Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd + With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths! + I cannot leave to love, and yet I do; + But there I leave to love where I should love. + Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose; + If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; + If I lose them, thus find I by their loss: + For Valentine, myself; for Julia, Silvia. + I to myself am dearer than a friend; + For love is still most precious in itself; + And Silvia- witness heaven, that made her fair!- + Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope. + I will forget that Julia is alive, + Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead; + And Valentine I'll hold an enemy, + Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. + I cannot now prove constant to myself + Without some treachery us'd to Valentine. + This night he meaneth with a corded ladder + To climb celestial Silvia's chamber window, + Myself in counsel, his competitor. + Now presently I'll give her father notice + Of their disguising and pretended flight, + Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine, + For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter; + But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross + By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding. + Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, + As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift. Exit + + + + +SCENE VII. +Verona. JULIA'S house + +Enter JULIA and LUCETTA + + JULIA. Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me; + And, ev'n in kind love, I do conjure thee, + Who art the table wherein all my thoughts + Are visibly character'd and engrav'd, + To lesson me and tell me some good mean + How, with my honour, I may undertake + A journey to my loving Proteus. + LUCETTA. Alas, the way is wearisome and long! + JULIA. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary + To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; + Much less shall she that hath Love's wings to fly, + And when the flight is made to one so dear, + Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus. + LUCETTA. Better forbear till Proteus make return. + JULIA. O, know'st thou not his looks are my soul's food? + Pity the dearth that I have pined in + By longing for that food so long a time. + Didst thou but know the inly touch of love. + Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow + As seek to quench the fire of love with words. + LUCETTA. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire, + But qualify the fire's extreme rage, + Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. + JULIA. The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns. + The current that with gentle murmur glides, + Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; + But when his fair course is not hindered, + He makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones, + Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge + He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; + And so by many winding nooks he strays, + With willing sport, to the wild ocean. + Then let me go, and hinder not my course. + I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, + And make a pastime of each weary step, + Till the last step have brought me to my love; + And there I'll rest as, after much turmoil, + A blessed soul doth in Elysium. + LUCETTA. But in what habit will you go along? + JULIA. Not like a woman, for I would prevent + The loose encounters of lascivious men; + Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds + As may beseem some well-reputed page. + LUCETTA. Why then, your ladyship must cut your hair. + JULIA. No, girl; I'll knit it up in silken strings + With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots- + To be fantastic may become a youth + Of greater time than I shall show to be. + LUCETTA. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches? + JULIA. That fits as well as 'Tell me, good my lord, + What compass will you wear your farthingale.' + Why ev'n what fashion thou best likes, Lucetta. + LUCETTA. You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam. + JULIA. Out, out, Lucetta, that will be ill-favour'd. + LUCETTA. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, + Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. + JULIA. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have + What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly. + But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me + For undertaking so unstaid a journey? + I fear me it will make me scandaliz'd. + LUCETTA. If you think so, then stay at home and go not. + JULIA. Nay, that I will not. + LUCETTA. Then never dream on infamy, but go. + If Proteus like your journey when you come, + No matter who's displeas'd when you are gone. + I fear me he will scarce be pleas'd withal. + JULIA. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: + A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, + And instances of infinite of love, + Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. + LUCETTA. All these are servants to deceitful men. + JULIA. Base men that use them to so base effect! + But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth; + His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, + His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, + His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, + His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. + LUCETTA. Pray heav'n he prove so when you come to him. + JULIA. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong + To bear a hard opinion of his truth; + Only deserve my love by loving him. + And presently go with me to my chamber, + To take a note of what I stand in need of + To furnish me upon my longing journey. + All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, + My goods, my lands, my reputation; + Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. + Come, answer not, but to it presently; + I am impatient of my tarriance. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Milan. The DUKE'S palace + +Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS + + DUKE. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; + We have some secrets to confer about. Exit THURIO + Now tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? + PROTEUS. My gracious lord, that which I would discover + The law of friendship bids me to conceal; + But, when I call to mind your gracious favours + Done to me, undeserving as I am, + My duty pricks me on to utter that + Which else no worldly good should draw from me. + Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend, + This night intends to steal away your daughter; + Myself am one made privy to the plot. + I know you have determin'd to bestow her + On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates; + And should she thus be stol'n away from you, + It would be much vexation to your age. + Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose + To cross my friend in his intended drift + Than, by concealing it, heap on your head + A pack of sorrows which would press you down, + Being unprevented, to your timeless grave. + DUKE. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care, + Which to requite, command me while I live. + This love of theirs myself have often seen, + Haply when they have judg'd me fast asleep, + And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid + Sir Valentine her company and my court; + But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err + And so, unworthily, disgrace the man, + A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd, + I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find + That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me. + And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this, + Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, + I nightly lodge her in an upper tow'r, + The key whereof myself have ever kept; + And thence she cannot be convey'd away. + PROTEUS. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean + How he her chamber window will ascend + And with a corded ladder fetch her down; + For which the youthful lover now is gone, + And this way comes he with it presently; + Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. + But, good my lord, do it so cunningly + That my discovery be not aimed at; + For love of you, not hate unto my friend, + Hath made me publisher of this pretence. + DUKE. Upon mine honour, he shall never know + That I had any light from thee of this. + PROTEUS. Adieu, my lord; Sir Valentine is coming. Exit + + Enter VALENTINE + + DUKE. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? + VALENTINE. Please it your Grace, there is a messenger + That stays to bear my letters to my friends, + And I am going to deliver them. + DUKE. Be they of much import? + VALENTINE. The tenour of them doth but signify + My health and happy being at your court. + DUKE. Nay then, no matter; stay with me awhile; + I am to break with thee of some affairs + That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. + 'Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought + To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter. + VALENTINE. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match + Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman + Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities + Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter. + Cannot your grace win her to fancy him? + DUKE. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward, + Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; + Neither regarding that she is my child + Nor fearing me as if I were her father; + And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers, + Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her; + And, where I thought the remnant of mine age + Should have been cherish'd by her childlike duty, + I now am full resolv'd to take a wife + And turn her out to who will take her in. + Then let her beauty be her wedding-dow'r; + For me and my possessions she esteems not. + VALENTINE. What would your Grace have me to do in this? + DUKE. There is a lady, in Verona here, + Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy, + And nought esteems my aged eloquence. + Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor- + For long agone I have forgot to court; + Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd- + How and which way I may bestow myself + To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. + VALENTINE. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words: + Dumb jewels often in their silent kind + More than quick words do move a woman's mind. + DUKE. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. + VALENTINE. A woman sometime scorns what best contents her. + Send her another; never give her o'er, + For scorn at first makes after-love the more. + If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, + But rather to beget more love in you; + If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone, + For why, the fools are mad if left alone. + Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; + For 'Get you gone' she doth not mean 'Away!' + Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; + Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces. + That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, + If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. + DUKE. But she I mean is promis'd by her friends + Unto a youthful gentleman of worth; + And kept severely from resort of men, + That no man hath access by day to her. + VALENTINE. Why then I would resort to her by night. + DUKE. Ay, but the doors be lock'd and keys kept safe, + That no man hath recourse to her by night. + VALENTINE. What lets but one may enter at her window? + DUKE. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, + And built so shelving that one cannot climb it + Without apparent hazard of his life. + VALENTINE. Why then a ladder, quaintly made of cords, + To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks, + Would serve to scale another Hero's tow'r, + So bold Leander would adventure it. + DUKE. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, + Advise me where I may have such a ladder. + VALENTINE. When would you use it? Pray, sir, tell me that. + DUKE. This very night; for Love is like a child, + That longs for everything that he can come by. + VALENTINE. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. + DUKE. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone; + How shall I best convey the ladder thither? + VALENTINE. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it + Under a cloak that is of any length. + DUKE. A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn? + VALENTINE. Ay, my good lord. + DUKE. Then let me see thy cloak. + I'll get me one of such another length. + VALENTINE. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. + DUKE. How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak? + I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. + What letter is this same? What's here? 'To Silvia'! + And here an engine fit for my proceeding! + I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. [Reads] + 'My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly, + And slaves they are to me, that send them flying. + O, could their master come and go as lightly, + Himself would lodge where, senseless, they are lying! + My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them, + While I, their king, that thither them importune, + Do curse the grace that with such grace hath blest them, + Because myself do want my servants' fortune. + I curse myself, for they are sent by me, + That they should harbour where their lord should be.' + What's here? + 'Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.' + 'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose. + Why, Phaethon- for thou art Merops' son- + Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car, + And with thy daring folly burn the world? + Wilt thou reach stars because they shine on thee? + Go, base intruder, over-weening slave, + Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates; + And think my patience, more than thy desert, + Is privilege for thy departure hence. + Thank me for this more than for all the favours + Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thee. + But if thou linger in my territories + Longer than swiftest expedition + Will give thee time to leave our royal court, + By heaven! my wrath shall far exceed the love + I ever bore my daughter or thyself. + Be gone; I will not hear thy vain excuse, + But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from hence. Exit + VALENTINE. And why not death rather than living torment? + To die is to be banish'd from myself, + And Silvia is myself; banish'd from her + Is self from self, a deadly banishment. + What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? + What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? + Unless it be to think that she is by, + And feed upon the shadow of perfection. + Except I be by Silvia in the night, + There is no music in the nightingale; + Unless I look on Silvia in the day, + There is no day for me to look upon. + She is my essence, and I leave to be + If I be not by her fair influence + Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive. + I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom: + Tarry I here, I but attend on death; + But fly I hence, I fly away from life. + + Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE + + PROTEUS. Run, boy, run, run, seek him out. + LAUNCE. So-ho, so-ho! + PROTEUS. What seest thou? + LAUNCE. Him we go to find: there's not a hair on 's head but 'tis a + Valentine. + PROTEUS. Valentine? + VALENTINE. No. + PROTEUS. Who then? his spirit? + VALENTINE. Neither. + PROTEUS. What then? + VALENTINE. Nothing. + LAUNCE. Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike? + PROTEUS. Who wouldst thou strike? + LAUNCE. Nothing. + PROTEUS. Villain, forbear. + LAUNCE. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing. I pray you- + PROTEUS. Sirrah, I say, forbear. Friend Valentine, a word. + VALENTINE. My ears are stopp'd and cannot hear good news, + So much of bad already hath possess'd them. + PROTEUS. Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, + For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad. + VALENTINE. Is Silvia dead? + PROTEUS. No, Valentine. + VALENTINE. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia. + Hath she forsworn me? + PROTEUS. No, Valentine. + VALENTINE. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me. + What is your news? + LAUNCE. Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished. + PROTEUS. That thou art banished- O, that's the news!- + From hence, from Silvia, and from me thy friend. + VALENTINE. O, I have fed upon this woe already, + And now excess of it will make me surfeit. + Doth Silvia know that I am banished? + PROTEUS. Ay, ay; and she hath offered to the doom- + Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force- + A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears; + Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; + With them, upon her knees, her humble self, + Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them + As if but now they waxed pale for woe. + But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, + Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, + Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire- + But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die. + Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so, + When she for thy repeal was suppliant, + That to close prison he commanded her, + With many bitter threats of biding there. + VALENTINE. No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st + Have some malignant power upon my life: + If so, I pray thee breathe it in mine ear, + As ending anthem of my endless dolour. + PROTEUS. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, + And study help for that which thou lament'st. + Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. + Here if thou stay thou canst not see thy love; + Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. + Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that, + And manage it against despairing thoughts. + Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence, + Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd + Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. + The time now serves not to expostulate. + Come, I'll convey thee through the city gate; + And, ere I part with thee, confer at large + Of all that may concern thy love affairs. + As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself, + Regard thy danger, and along with me. + VALENTINE. I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy, + Bid him make haste and meet me at the Northgate. + PROTEUS. Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. + VALENTINE. O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine! + Exeunt VALENTINE and PROTEUS + LAUNCE. I am but a fool, look you, and yet I have the wit to think + my master is a kind of a knave; but that's all one if he be but + one knave. He lives not now that knows me to be in love; yet I am + in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor + who 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman I will not + tell myself; and yet 'tis a milkmaid; yet 'tis not a maid, for + she hath had gossips; yet 'tis a maid, for she is her master's + maid and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a + water-spaniel- which is much in a bare Christian. Here is the + cate-log [Pulling out a paper] of her condition. 'Inprimis: She + can fetch and carry.' Why, a horse can do no more; nay, a horse + cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore is she better than a + jade. 'Item: She can milk.' Look you, a sweet virtue in a maid + with clean hands. + + Enter SPEED + + SPEED. How now, Signior Launce! What news with your mastership? + LAUNCE. With my master's ship? Why, it is at sea. + SPEED. Well, your old vice still: mistake the word. What news, + then, in your paper? + LAUNCE. The black'st news that ever thou heard'st. + SPEED. Why, man? how black? + LAUNCE. Why, as black as ink. + SPEED. Let me read them. + LAUNCE. Fie on thee, jolt-head; thou canst not read. + SPEED. Thou liest; I can. + LAUNCE. I will try thee. Tell me this: Who begot thee? + SPEED. Marry, the son of my grandfather. + LAUNCE. O illiterate loiterer. It was the son of thy grandmother. + This proves that thou canst not read. + SPEED. Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper. + LAUNCE. [Handing over the paper] There; and Saint Nicholas be thy + speed. + SPEED. [Reads] 'Inprimis: She can milk.' + LAUNCE. Ay, that she can. + SPEED. 'Item: She brews good ale.' + LAUNCE. And thereof comes the proverb: Blessing of your heart, you + brew good ale. + SPEED. 'Item: She can sew.' + LAUNCE. That's as much as to say 'Can she so?' + SPEED. 'Item: She can knit.' + LAUNCE. What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when she can + knit him a stock. + SPEED. 'Item: She can wash and scour.' + LAUNCE. A special virtue; for then she need not be wash'd and + scour'd. + SPEED. 'Item: She can spin.' + LAUNCE. Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can spin for + her living. + SPEED. 'Item: She hath many nameless virtues.' + LAUNCE. That's as much as to say 'bastard virtues'; that indeed + know not their fathers, and therefore have no names. + SPEED. 'Here follow her vices.' + LAUNCE. Close at the heels of her virtues. + SPEED. 'Item: She is not to be kiss'd fasting, in respect of her + breath.' + LAUNCE. Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. + Read on. + SPEED. 'Item: She hath a sweet mouth.' + LAUNCE. That makes amends for her sour breath. + SPEED. 'Item: She doth talk in her sleep.' + LAUNCE. It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk. + SPEED. 'Item: She is slow in words.' + LAUNCE. O villain, that set this down among her vices! To be slow + in words is a woman's only virtue. I pray thee, out with't; and + place it for her chief virtue. + SPEED. 'Item: She is proud.' + LAUNCE. Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot be ta'en + from her. + SPEED. 'Item: She hath no teeth.' + LAUNCE. I care not for that neither, because I love crusts. + SPEED. 'Item: She is curst.' + LAUNCE. Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. + SPEED. 'Item: She will often praise her liquor.' + LAUNCE. If her liquor be good, she shall; if she will not, I will; + for good things should be praised. + SPEED. 'Item: She is too liberal.' + LAUNCE. Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ down she is slow + of; of her purse she shall not, for that I'll keep shut. Now of + another thing she may, and that cannot I help. Well, proceed. + SPEED. 'Item: She hath more hair than wit, and more faults + than hairs, and more wealth than faults.' + LAUNCE. Stop there; I'll have her; she was mine, and not mine, + twice or thrice in that last article. Rehearse that once more. + SPEED. 'Item: She hath more hair than wit'- + LAUNCE. More hair than wit. It may be; I'll prove it: the cover of + the salt hides the salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; + the hair that covers the wit is more than the wit, for the + greater hides the less. What's next? + SPEED. 'And more faults than hairs'- + LAUNCE. That's monstrous. O that that were out! + SPEED. 'And more wealth than faults.' + LAUNCE. Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, I'll have + her; an if it be a match, as nothing is impossible- + SPEED. What then? + LAUNCE. Why, then will I tell thee- that thy master stays for thee + at the Northgate. + SPEED. For me? + LAUNCE. For thee! ay, who art thou? He hath stay'd for a better man + than thee. + SPEED. And must I go to him? + LAUNCE. Thou must run to him, for thou hast stay'd so long that + going will scarce serve the turn. + SPEED. Why didst not tell me sooner? Pox of your love letters! + Exit + LAUNCE. Now will he be swing'd for reading my letter. An unmannerly + slave that will thrust himself into secrets! I'll after, to + rejoice in the boy's correction. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Milan. The DUKE'S palace + +Enter DUKE and THURIO + + DUKE. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you + Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. + THURIO. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most, + Forsworn my company and rail'd at me, + That I am desperate of obtaining her. + DUKE. This weak impress of love is as a figure + Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat + Dissolves to water and doth lose his form. + A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, + And worthless Valentine shall be forgot. + + Enter PROTEUS + + How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman, + According to our proclamation, gone? + PROTEUS. Gone, my good lord. + DUKE. My daughter takes his going grievously. + PROTEUS. A little time, my lord, will kill that grief. + DUKE. So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so. + Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee- + For thou hast shown some sign of good desert- + Makes me the better to confer with thee. + PROTEUS. Longer than I prove loyal to your Grace + Let me not live to look upon your Grace. + DUKE. Thou know'st how willingly I would effect + The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter. + PROTEUS. I do, my lord. + DUKE. And also, I think, thou art not ignorant + How she opposes her against my will. + PROTEUS. She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. + DUKE. Ay, and perversely she persevers so. + What might we do to make the girl forget + The love of Valentine, and love Sir Thurio? + PROTEUS. The best way is to slander Valentine + With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent- + Three things that women highly hold in hate. + DUKE. Ay, but she'll think that it is spoke in hate. + PROTEUS. Ay, if his enemy deliver it; + Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken + By one whom she esteemeth as his friend. + DUKE. Then you must undertake to slander him. + PROTEUS. And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do: + 'Tis an ill office for a gentleman, + Especially against his very friend. + DUKE. Where your good word cannot advantage him, + Your slander never can endamage him; + Therefore the office is indifferent, + Being entreated to it by your friend. + PROTEUS. You have prevail'd, my lord; if I can do it + By aught that I can speak in his dispraise, + She shall not long continue love to him. + But say this weed her love from Valentine, + It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio. + THURIO. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, + Lest it should ravel and be good to none, + You must provide to bottom it on me; + Which must be done by praising me as much + As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine. + DUKE. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind, + Because we know, on Valentine's report, + You are already Love's firm votary + And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. + Upon this warrant shall you have access + Where you with Silvia may confer at large- + For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, + And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you- + Where you may temper her by your persuasion + To hate young Valentine and love my friend. + PROTEUS. As much as I can do I will effect. + But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough; + You must lay lime to tangle her desires + By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes + Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows. + DUKE. Ay, + Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy. + PROTEUS. Say that upon the altar of her beauty + You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart; + Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears + Moist it again, and frame some feeling line + That may discover such integrity; + For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews, + Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, + Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans + Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. + After your dire-lamenting elegies, + Visit by night your lady's chamber window + With some sweet consort; to their instruments + Tune a deploring dump- the night's dead silence + Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance. + This, or else nothing, will inherit her. + DUKE. This discipline shows thou hast been in love. + THURIO. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice; + Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, + Let us into the city presently + To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music. + I have a sonnet that will serve the turn + To give the onset to thy good advice. + DUKE. About it, gentlemen! + PROTEUS. We'll wait upon your Grace till after supper, + And afterward determine our proceedings. + DUKE. Even now about it! I will pardon you. Exeunt + + + + +ACT_4|SC_1 +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. +The frontiers of Mantua. A forest + +Enter certain OUTLAWS + + FIRST OUTLAW. Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger. + SECOND OUTLAW. If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em. + + Enter VALENTINE and SPEED + + THIRD OUTLAW. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about ye; + If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you. + SPEED. Sir, we are undone; these are the villains + That all the travellers do fear so much. + VALENTINE. My friends- + FIRST OUTLAW. That's not so, sir; we are your enemies. + SECOND OUTLAW. Peace! we'll hear him. + THIRD OUTLAW. Ay, by my beard, will we; for he is a proper man. + VALENTINE. Then know that I have little wealth to lose; + A man I am cross'd with adversity; + My riches are these poor habiliments, + Of which if you should here disfurnish me, + You take the sum and substance that I have. + SECOND OUTLAW. Whither travel you? + VALENTINE. To Verona. + FIRST OUTLAW. Whence came you? + VALENTINE. From Milan. + THIRD OUTLAW. Have you long sojourn'd there? + VALENTINE. Some sixteen months, and longer might have stay'd, + If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. + FIRST OUTLAW. What, were you banish'd thence? + VALENTINE. I was. + SECOND OUTLAW. For what offence? + VALENTINE. For that which now torments me to rehearse: + I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent; + But yet I slew him manfully in fight, + Without false vantage or base treachery. + FIRST OUTLAW. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so. + But were you banish'd for so small a fault? + VALENTINE. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. + SECOND OUTLAW. Have you the tongues? + VALENTINE. My youthful travel therein made me happy, + Or else I often had been miserable. + THIRD OUTLAW. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar, + This fellow were a king for our wild faction! + FIRST OUTLAW. We'll have him. Sirs, a word. + SPEED. Master, be one of them; it's an honourable kind of thievery. + VALENTINE. Peace, villain! + SECOND OUTLAW. Tell us this: have you anything to take to? + VALENTINE. Nothing but my fortune. + THIRD OUTLAW. Know, then, that some of us are gentlemen, + Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth + Thrust from the company of awful men; + Myself was from Verona banished + For practising to steal away a lady, + An heir, and near allied unto the Duke. + SECOND OUTLAW. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman + Who, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart. + FIRST OUTLAW. And I for such-like petty crimes as these. + But to the purpose- for we cite our faults + That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives; + And, partly, seeing you are beautified + With goodly shape, and by your own report + A linguist, and a man of such perfection + As we do in our quality much want- + SECOND OUTLAW. Indeed, because you are a banish'd man, + Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you. + Are you content to be our general- + To make a virtue of necessity, + And live as we do in this wilderness? + THIRD OUTLAW. What say'st thou? Wilt thou be of our consort? + Say 'ay' and be the captain of us all. + We'll do thee homage, and be rul'd by thee, + Love thee as our commander and our king. + FIRST OUTLAW. But if thou scorn our courtesy thou diest. + SECOND OUTLAW. Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd. + VALENTINE. I take your offer, and will live with you, + Provided that you do no outrages + On silly women or poor passengers. + THIRD OUTLAW. No, we detest such vile base practices. + Come, go with us; we'll bring thee to our crews, + And show thee all the treasure we have got; + Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Milan. Outside the DUKE'S palace, under SILVIA'S window + +Enter PROTEUS + + PROTEUS. Already have I been false to Valentine, + And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. + Under the colour of commending him + I have access my own love to prefer; + But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, + To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. + When I protest true loyalty to her, + She twits me with my falsehood to my friend; + When to her beauty I commend my vows, + She bids me think how I have been forsworn + In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd; + And notwithstanding all her sudden quips, + The least whereof would quell a lover's hope, + Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love + The more it grows and fawneth on her still. + + Enter THURIO and MUSICIANS + + But here comes Thurio. Now must we to her window, + And give some evening music to her ear. + THURIO. How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept before us? + PROTEUS. Ay, gentle Thurio; for you know that love + Will creep in service where it cannot go. + THURIO. Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here. + PROTEUS. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence. + THURIO. Who? Silvia? + PROTEUS. Ay, Silvia- for your sake. + THURIO. I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, + Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile. + + Enter at a distance, HOST, and JULIA in boy's clothes + + HOST. Now, my young guest, methinks you're allycholly; I pray you, + why is it? + JULIA. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. + HOST. Come, we'll have you merry; I'll bring you where you shall + hear music, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for. + JULIA. But shall I hear him speak? + HOST. Ay, that you shall. [Music plays] + JULIA. That will be music. + HOST. Hark, hark! + JULIA. Is he among these? + HOST. Ay; but peace! let's hear 'em. + + SONG + Who is Silvia? What is she, + That all our swains commend her? + Holy, fair, and wise is she; + The heaven such grace did lend her, + That she might admired be. + + Is she kind as she is fair? + For beauty lives with kindness. + Love doth to her eyes repair, + To help him of his blindness; + And, being help'd, inhabits there. + + Then to Silvia let us sing + That Silvia is excelling; + She excels each mortal thing + Upon the dull earth dwelling. + 'To her let us garlands bring. + + HOST. How now, are you sadder than you were before? + How do you, man? The music likes you not. + JULIA. You mistake; the musician likes me not. + HOST. Why, my pretty youth? + JULIA. He plays false, father. + HOST. How, out of tune on the strings? + JULIA. Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my very + heart-strings. + HOST. You have a quick ear. + JULIA. Ay, I would I were deaf; it makes me have a slow heart. + HOST. I perceive you delight not in music. + JULIA. Not a whit, when it jars so. + HOST. Hark, what fine change is in the music! + JULIA. Ay, that change is the spite. + HOST. You would have them always play but one thing? + JULIA. I would always have one play but one thing. + But, Host, doth this Sir Proteus, that we talk on, + Often resort unto this gentlewoman? + HOST. I tell you what Launce, his man, told me: he lov'd her out of + all nick. + JULIA. Where is Launce? + HOST. Gone to seek his dog, which to-morrow, by his master's + command, he must carry for a present to his lady. + JULIA. Peace, stand aside; the company parts. + PROTEUS. Sir Thurio, fear not you; I will so plead + That you shall say my cunning drift excels. + THURIO. Where meet we? + PROTEUS. At Saint Gregory's well. + THURIO. Farewell. Exeunt THURIO and MUSICIANS + + Enter SILVIA above, at her window + + PROTEUS. Madam, good ev'n to your ladyship. + SILVIA. I thank you for your music, gentlemen. + Who is that that spake? + PROTEUS. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth, + You would quickly learn to know him by his voice. + SILVIA. Sir Proteus, as I take it. + PROTEUS. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant. + SILVIA. What's your will? + PROTEUS. That I may compass yours. + SILVIA. You have your wish; my will is even this, + That presently you hie you home to bed. + Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man, + Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless, + To be seduced by thy flattery + That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows? + Return, return, and make thy love amends. + For me, by this pale queen of night I swear, + I am so far from granting thy request + That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit, + And by and by intend to chide myself + Even for this time I spend in talking to thee. + PROTEUS. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady; + But she is dead. + JULIA. [Aside] 'Twere false, if I should speak it; + For I am sure she is not buried. + SILVIA. Say that she be; yet Valentine, thy friend, + Survives, to whom, thyself art witness, + I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd + To wrong him with thy importunacy? + PROTEUS. I likewise hear that Valentine is dead. + SILVIA. And so suppose am I; for in his grave + Assure thyself my love is buried. + PROTEUS. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. + SILVIA. Go to thy lady's grave, and call hers thence; + Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine. + JULIA. [Aside] He heard not that. + PROTEUS. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, + Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, + The picture that is hanging in your chamber; + To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep; + For, since the substance of your perfect self + Is else devoted, I am but a shadow; + And to your shadow will I make true love. + JULIA. [Aside] If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, deceive it + And make it but a shadow, as I am. + SILVIA. I am very loath to be your idol, sir; + But since your falsehood shall become you well + To worship shadows and adore false shapes, + Send to me in the morning, and I'll send it; + And so, good rest. + PROTEUS. As wretches have o'ernight + That wait for execution in the morn. + Exeunt PROTEUS and SILVIA + JULIA. Host, will you go? + HOST. By my halidom, I was fast asleep. + JULIA. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus? + HOST. Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think 'tis almost day. + JULIA. Not so; but it hath been the longest night + That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Under SILVIA'S window + +Enter EGLAMOUR + + EGLAMOUR. This is the hour that Madam Silvia + Entreated me to call and know her mind; + There's some great matter she'd employ me in. + Madam, madam! + + Enter SILVIA above, at her window + + SILVIA. Who calls? + EGLAMOUR. Your servant and your friend; + One that attends your ladyship's command. + SILVIA. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good morrow! + EGLAMOUR. As many, worthy lady, to yourself! + According to your ladyship's impose, + I am thus early come to know what service + It is your pleasure to command me in. + SILVIA. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman- + Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not- + Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish'd. + Thou art not ignorant what dear good will + I bear unto the banish'd Valentine; + Nor how my father would enforce me marry + Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors. + Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say + No grief did ever come so near thy heart + As when thy lady and thy true love died, + Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity. + Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, + To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode; + And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, + I do desire thy worthy company, + Upon whose faith and honour I repose. + Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour, + But think upon my grief, a lady's grief, + And on the justice of my flying hence + To keep me from a most unholy match, + Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues. + I do desire thee, even from a heart + As full of sorrows as the sea of sands, + To bear me company and go with me; + If not, to hide what I have said to thee, + That I may venture to depart alone. + EGLAMOUR. Madam, I pity much your grievances; + Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd, + I give consent to go along with you, + Recking as little what betideth me + As much I wish all good befortune you. + When will you go? + SILVIA. This evening coming. + EGLAMOUR. Where shall I meet you? + SILVIA. At Friar Patrick's cell, + Where I intend holy confession. + EGLAMOUR. I will not fail your ladyship. Good morrow, gentle lady. + SILVIA. Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Under SILVIA'S Window + +Enter LAUNCE with his dog + + LAUNCE. When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you, + it goes hard- one that I brought up of a puppy; one that I sav'd + from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and + sisters went to it. I have taught him, even as one would say + precisely 'Thus I would teach a dog.' I was sent to deliver him + as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master; and I came no + sooner into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to her trencher + and steals her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul thing when a cur + cannot keep himself in all companies! I would have, as one should + say, one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it + were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit than he, to + take a fault upon me that he did, I think verily he had been + hang'd for't; sure as I live, he had suffer'd for't. You shall + judge. He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four + gentleman-like dogs under the Duke's table; he had not been + there, bless the mark, a pissing while but all the chamber smelt + him. 'Out with the dog' says one; 'What cur is that?' says + another; 'Whip him out' says the third; 'Hang him up' says the + Duke. I, having been acquainted with the smell before, knew it + was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogs. + 'Friend,' quoth I 'you mean to whip the dog.' 'Ay, marry do I' + quoth he. 'You do him the more wrong,' quoth I; "twas I did the + thing you wot of.' He makes me no more ado, but whips me out of + the chamber. How many masters would do this for his servant? Nay, + I'll be sworn, I have sat in the stock for puddings he hath + stol'n, otherwise he had been executed; I have stood on the + pillory for geese he hath kill'd, otherwise he had suffer'd + for't. Thou think'st not of this now. Nay, I remember the trick + you serv'd me when I took my leave of Madam Silvia. Did not I bid + thee still mark me and do as I do? When didst thou see me heave + up my leg and make water against a gentlewoman's farthingale? + Didst thou ever see me do such a trick? + + Enter PROTEUS, and JULIA in boy's clothes + + PROTEUS. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well, + And will employ thee in some service presently. + JULIA. In what you please; I'll do what I can. + PROTEUS..I hope thou wilt. [To LAUNCE] How now, you whoreson + peasant! + Where have you been these two days loitering? + LAUNCE. Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me. + PROTEUS. And what says she to my little jewel? + LAUNCE. Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you currish + thanks is good enough for such a present. + PROTEUS. But she receiv'd my dog? + LAUNCE. No, indeed, did she not; here have I brought him back + again. + PROTEUS. What, didst thou offer her this from me? + LAUNCE. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was stol'n from me by the + hangman's boys in the market-place; and then I offer'd her mine + own, who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift + the greater. + PROTEUS. Go, get thee hence and find my dog again, + Or ne'er return again into my sight. + Away, I say. Stayest thou to vex me here? Exit LAUNCE + A slave that still an end turns me to shame! + Sebastian, I have entertained thee + Partly that I have need of such a youth + That can with some discretion do my business, + For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout, + But chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour, + Which, if my augury deceive me not, + Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth; + Therefore, know thou, for this I entertain thee. + Go presently, and take this ring with thee, + Deliver it to Madam Silvia- + She lov'd me well deliver'd it to me. + JULIA. It seems you lov'd not her, to leave her token. + She is dead, belike? + PROTEUS. Not so; I think she lives. + JULIA. Alas! + PROTEUS. Why dost thou cry 'Alas'? + JULIA. I cannot choose + But pity her. + PROTEUS. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her? + JULIA. Because methinks that she lov'd you as well + As you do love your lady Silvia. + She dreams on him that has forgot her love: + You dote on her that cares not for your love. + 'Tis pity love should be so contrary; + And thinking on it makes me cry 'Alas!' + PROTEUS. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal + This letter. That's her chamber. Tell my lady + I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. + Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, + Where thou shalt find me sad and solitary. Exit PROTEUS + JULIA. How many women would do such a message? + Alas, poor Proteus, thou hast entertain'd + A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs. + Alas, poor fool, why do I pity him + That with his very heart despiseth me? + Because he loves her, he despiseth me; + Because I love him, I must pity him. + This ring I gave him, when he parted from me, + To bind him to remember my good will; + And now am I, unhappy messenger, + To plead for that which I would not obtain, + To carry that which I would have refus'd, + To praise his faith, which I would have disprais'd. + I am my master's true confirmed love, + But cannot be true servant to my master + Unless I prove false traitor to myself. + Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly + As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. + + Enter SILVIA, attended + + Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you be my mean + To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia. + SILVIA. What would you with her, if that I be she? + JULIA. If you be she, I do entreat your patience + To hear me speak the message I am sent on. + SILVIA. From whom? + JULIA. From my master, Sir Proteus, madam. + SILVIA. O, he sends you for a picture? + JULIA. Ay, madam. + SILVIA. Ursula, bring my picture there. + Go, give your master this. Tell him from me, + One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, + Would better fit his chamber than this shadow. + JULIA. Madam, please you peruse this letter. + Pardon me, madam; I have unadvis'd + Deliver'd you a paper that I should not. + This is the letter to your ladyship. + SILVIA. I pray thee let me look on that again. + JULIA. It may not be; good madam, pardon me. + SILVIA. There, hold! + I will not look upon your master's lines. + I know they are stuff'd with protestations, + And full of new-found oaths, which he wul break + As easily as I do tear his paper. + JULIA. Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. + SILVIA. The more shame for him that he sends it me; + For I have heard him say a thousand times + His Julia gave it him at his departure. + Though his false finger have profan'd the ring, + Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. + JULIA. She thanks you. + SILVIA. What say'st thou? + JULIA. I thank you, madam, that you tender her. + Poor gentlewoman, my master wrongs her much. + SILVIA. Dost thou know her? + JULIA. Almost as well as I do know myself. + To think upon her woes, I do protest + That I have wept a hundred several times. + SILVIA. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her. + JULIA. I think she doth, and that's her cause of sorrow. + SILVIA. Is she not passing fair? + JULIA. She hath been fairer, madam, than she is. + When she did think my master lov'd her well, + She, in my judgment, was as fair as you; + But since she did neglect her looking-glass + And threw her sun-expelling mask away, + The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks + And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, + That now she is become as black as I. + SILVIA. How tall was she? + JULIA. About my stature; for at Pentecost, + When all our pageants of delight were play'd, + Our youth got me to play the woman's part, + And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown; + Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments, + As if the garment had been made for me; + Therefore I know she is about my height. + And at that time I made her weep a good, + For I did play a lamentable part. + Madam, 'twas Ariadne passioning + For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight; + Which I so lively acted with my tears + That my poor mistress, moved therewithal, + Wept bitterly; and would I might be dead + If I in thought felt not her very sorrow. + SILVIA. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth. + Alas, poor lady, desolate and left! + I weep myself, to think upon thy words. + Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee this + For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st her. + Farewell. Exit SILVIA with ATTENDANTS + JULIA. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her. + A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful! + I hope my master's suit will be but cold, + Since she respects my mistress' love so much. + Alas, how love can trifle with itself! + Here is her picture; let me see. I think, + If I had such a tire, this face of mine + Were full as lovely as is this of hers; + And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, + Unless I flatter with myself too much. + Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow; + If that be all the difference in his love, + I'll get me such a colour'd periwig. + Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine; + Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high. + What should it be that he respects in her + But I can make respective in myself, + If this fond Love were not a blinded god? + Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, + For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form, + Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd! + And were there sense in his idolatry + My substance should be statue in thy stead. + I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake, + That us'd me so; or else, by Jove I vow, + I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes, + To make my master out of love with thee. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Milan. An abbey + +Enter EGLAMOUR + + EGLAMOUR. The sun begins to gild the western sky, + And now it is about the very hour + That Silvia at Friar Patrick's cell should meet me. + She will not fail, for lovers break not hours + Unless it be to come before their time, + So much they spur their expedition. + + Enter SILVIA + + See where she comes. Lady, a happy evening! + SILVIA. Amen, amen! Go on, good Eglamour, + Out at the postern by the abbey wall; + I fear I am attended by some spies. + EGLAMOUR. Fear not. The forest is not three leagues off; + If we recover that, we are sure enough. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Milan. The DUKE'S palace + +Enter THURIO, PROTEUS, and JULIA as SEBASTIAN + + THURIO. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit? + PROTEUS. O, sir, I find her milder than she was; + And yet she takes exceptions at your person. + THURIO. What, that my leg is too long? + PROTEUS. No; that it is too little. + THURIO. I'll wear a boot to make it somewhat rounder. + JULIA. [Aside] But love will not be spurr'd to what it loathes. + THURIO. What says she to my face? + PROTEUS. She says it is a fair one. + THURIO. Nay, then, the wanton lies; my face is black. + PROTEUS. But pearls are fair; and the old saying is: + Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes. + JULIA. [Aside] 'Tis true, such pearls as put out ladies' eyes; + For I had rather wink than look on them. + THURIO. How likes she my discourse? + PROTEUS. Ill, when you talk of war. + THURIO. But well when I discourse of love and peace? + JULIA. [Aside] But better, indeed, when you hold your peace. + THURIO. What says she to my valour? + PROTEUS. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. + JULIA. [Aside] She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. + THURIO. What says she to my birth? + PROTEUS. That you are well deriv'd. + JULIA. [Aside] True; from a gentleman to a fool. + THURIO. Considers she my possessions? + PROTEUS. O, ay; and pities them. + THURIO. Wherefore? + JULIA. [Aside] That such an ass should owe them. + PROTEUS. That they are out by lease. + JULIA. Here comes the Duke. + + Enter DUKE + + DUKE. How now, Sir Proteus! how now, Thurio! + Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late? + THURIO. Not I. + PROTEUS. Nor I. + DUKE. Saw you my daughter? + PROTEUS. Neither. + DUKE. Why then, + She's fled unto that peasant Valentine; + And Eglamour is in her company. + 'Tis true; for Friar Lawrence met them both + As he in penance wander'd through the forest; + Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she, + But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it; + Besides, she did intend confession + At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was not. + These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence; + Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, + But mount you presently, and meet with me + Upon the rising of the mountain foot + That leads toward Mantua, whither they are fled. + Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. Exit + THURIO. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl + That flies her fortune when it follows her. + I'll after, more to be reveng'd on Eglamour + Than for the love of reckless Silvia. Exit + PROTEUS. And I will follow, more for Silvia's love + Than hate of Eglamour, that goes with her. Exit + JULIA. And I will follow, more to cross that love + Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. Exit + + + + +SCENE III. +The frontiers of Mantua. The forest + +Enter OUTLAWS with SILVA + + FIRST OUTLAW. Come, come. + Be patient; we must bring you to our captain. + SILVIA. A thousand more mischances than this one + Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. + SECOND OUTLAW. Come, bring her away. + FIRST OUTLAW. Where is the gentleman that was with her? + SECOND OUTLAW. Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us, + But Moyses and Valerius follow him. + Go thou with her to the west end of the wood; + There is our captain; we'll follow him that's fled. + The thicket is beset; he cannot 'scape. + FIRST OUTLAW. Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave; + Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, + And will not use a woman lawlessly. + SILVIA. O Valentine, this I endure for thee! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE IV. +Another part of the forest + +Enter VALENTINE + + VALENTINE. How use doth breed a habit in a man! + This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, + I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. + Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, + And to the nightingale's complaining notes + Tune my distresses and record my woes. + O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, + Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, + Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall + And leave no memory of what it was! + Repair me with thy presence, Silvia: + Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain. + What halloing and what stir is this to-day? + These are my mates, that make their wills their law, + Have some unhappy passenger in chase. + They love me well; yet I have much to do + To keep them from uncivil outrages. + Withdraw thee, Valentine. Who's this comes here? + [Steps aside] + + Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA as Sebastian + + PROTEUS. Madam, this service I have done for you, + Though you respect not aught your servant doth, + To hazard life, and rescue you from him + That would have forc'd your honour and your love. + Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look; + A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, + And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. + VALENTINE. [Aside] How like a dream is this I see and hear! + Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. + SILVIA. O miserable, unhappy that I am! + PROTEUS. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; + But by my coming I have made you happy. + SILVIA. By thy approach thou mak'st me most unhappy. + JULIA. [Aside] And me, when he approacheth to your presence. + SILVIA. Had I been seized by a hungry lion, + I would have been a breakfast to the beast + Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. + O, heaven be judge how I love Valentine, + Whose life's as tender to me as my soul! + And full as much, for more there cannot be, + I do detest false, perjur'd Proteus. + Therefore be gone; solicit me no more. + PROTEUS. What dangerous action, stood it next to death, + Would I not undergo for one calm look? + O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd, + When women cannot love where they're belov'd! + SILVIA. When Proteus cannot love where he's belov'd! + Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love, + For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith + Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths + Descended into perjury, to love me. + Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou'dst two, + And that's far worse than none; better have none + Than plural faith, which is too much by one. + Thou counterfeit to thy true friend! + PROTEUS. In love, + Who respects friend? + SILVIA. All men but Proteus. + PROTEUS. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words + Can no way change you to a milder form, + I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end, + And love you 'gainst the nature of love- force ye. + SILVIA. O heaven! + PROTEUS. I'll force thee yield to my desire. + VALENTINE. Ruffian! let go that rude uncivil touch; + Thou friend of an ill fashion! + PROTEUS. Valentine! + VALENTINE. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love- + For such is a friend now; treacherous man, + Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye + Could have persuaded me. Now I dare not say + I have one friend alive: thou wouldst disprove me. + Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand + Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, + I am sorry I must never trust thee more, + But count the world a stranger for thy sake. + The private wound is deepest. O time most accurst! + 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst! + PROTEUS. My shame and guilt confounds me. + Forgive me, Valentine; if hearty sorrow + Be a sufficient ransom for offence, + I tender 't here; I do as truly suffer + As e'er I did commit. + VALENTINE. Then I am paid; + And once again I do receive thee honest. + Who by repentance is not satisfied + Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleas'd; + By penitence th' Eternal's wrath's appeas'd. + And, that my love may appear plain and free, + All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. + JULIA. O me unhappy! [Swoons] + PROTEUS. Look to the boy. + VALENTINE. Why, boy! why, wag! how now! + What's the matter? Look up; speak. + JULIA. O good sir, my master charg'd me to deliver a ring to Madam + Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done. + PROTEUS. Where is that ring, boy? + JULIA. Here 'tis; this is it. + PROTEUS. How! let me see. Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia. + JULIA. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook; + This is the ring you sent to Silvia. + PROTEUS. But how cam'st thou by this ring? + At my depart I gave this unto Julia. + JULIA. And Julia herself did give it me; + And Julia herself have brought it hither. + PROTEUS. How! Julia! + JULIA. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths, + And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart. + How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root! + O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush! + Be thou asham'd that I have took upon me + Such an immodest raiment- if shame live + In a disguise of love. + It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, + Women to change their shapes than men their minds. + PROTEUS. Than men their minds! 'tis true. O heaven, were man + But constant, he were perfect! That one error + Fills him with faults; makes him run through all th' sins: + Inconstancy falls off ere it begins. + What is in Silvia's face but I may spy + More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye? + VALENTINE. Come, come, a hand from either. + Let me be blest to make this happy close; + 'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. + PROTEUS. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish for ever. + JULIA. And I mine. + + Enter OUTLAWS, with DUKE and THURIO + + OUTLAW. A prize, a prize, a prize! + VALENTINE. Forbear, forbear, I say; it is my lord the Duke. + Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd, + Banished Valentine. + DUKE. Sir Valentine! + THURIO. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine. + VALENTINE. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death; + Come not within the measure of my wrath; + Do not name Silvia thine; if once again, + Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands + Take but possession of her with a touch- + I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. + THURIO. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I; + I hold him but a fool that will endanger + His body for a girl that loves him not. + I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. + DUKE. The more degenerate and base art thou + To make such means for her as thou hast done + And leave her on such slight conditions. + Now, by the honour of my ancestry, + I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, + And think thee worthy of an empress' love. + Know then, I here forget all former griefs, + Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, + Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit, + To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine, + Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd; + Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her. + VALENTINE. I thank your Grace; the gift hath made me happy. + I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, + To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. + DUKE. I grant it for thine own, whate'er it be. + VALENTINE. These banish'd men, that I have kept withal, + Are men endu'd with worthy qualities; + Forgive them what they have committed here, + And let them be recall'd from their exile: + They are reformed, civil, full of good, + And fit for great employment, worthy lord. + DUKE. Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them, and thee; + Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts. + Come, let us go; we will include all jars + With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity. + VALENTINE. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold + With our discourse to make your Grace to smile. + What think you of this page, my lord? + DUKE. I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes. + VALENTINE. I warrant you, my lord- more grace than boy. + DUKE. What mean you by that saying? + VALENTINE. Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along, + That you will wonder what hath fortuned. + Come, Proteus, 'tis your penance but to hear + The story of your loves discovered. + That done, our day of marriage shall be yours; + One feast, one house, one mutual happiness! Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1611 + +THE WINTER'S TALE + +by William Shakespeare + + + +Dramatis Personae + + LEONTES, King of Sicilia + MAMILLIUS, his son, the young Prince of Sicilia + CAMILLO, lord of Sicilia + ANTIGONUS, " " " + CLEOMENES, " " " + DION, " " " + POLIXENES, King of Bohemia + FLORIZEL, his son, Prince of Bohemia + ARCHIDAMUS, a lord of Bohemia + OLD SHEPHERD, reputed father of Perdita + CLOWN, his son + AUTOLYCUS, a rogue + A MARINER + A GAOLER + TIME, as Chorus + + HERMIONE, Queen to Leontes + PERDITA, daughter to Leontes and Hermione + PAULINA, wife to Antigonus + EMILIA, a lady attending on the Queen + MOPSA, shepherdess + DORCAS, " + + Other Lords, Gentlemen, Ladies, Officers, Servants, Shepherds, + Shepherdesses + + SCENE: + Sicilia and Bohemia + + + + +<> + + + +ACT I. SCENE I. +Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES + +Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS + + ARCHIDAMUS. If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the + like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, + as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your + Sicilia. + CAMILLO. I think this coming summer the King of Sicilia means to + pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him. + ARCHIDAMUS. Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be + justified in our loves; for indeed- + CAMILLO. Beseech you- + ARCHIDAMUS. Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we + cannot with such magnificence, in so rare- I know not what to + say. We will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses, + unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot + praise us, as little accuse us. + CAMILLO. You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely. + ARCHIDAMUS. Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me + and as mine honesty puts it to utterance. + CAMILLO. Sicilia cannot show himself overkind to Bohemia. They were + train'd together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt + them then such an affection which cannot choose but branch now. + Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made + separation of their society, their encounters, though not + personal, have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts, + letters, loving embassies; that they have seem'd to be together, + though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embrac'd as it + were from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their + loves! + ARCHIDAMUS. I think there is not in the world either malice or + matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young + Prince Mamillius; it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that + ever came into my note. + CAMILLO. I very well agree with you in the hopes of him. It is a + gallant child; one that indeed physics the subject, makes old + hearts fresh; they that went on crutches ere he was born desire + yet their life to see him a man. + ARCHIDAMUS. Would they else be content to die? + CAMILLO. Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should desire + to live. + ARCHIDAMUS. If the King had no son, they would desire to live on + crutches till he had one. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES + +Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, CAMILLO, and ATTENDANTS + + POLIXENES. Nine changes of the wat'ry star hath been + The shepherd's note since we have left our throne + Without a burden. Time as long again + Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our thanks; + And yet we should for perpetuity + Go hence in debt. And therefore, like a cipher, + Yet standing in rich place, I multiply + With one 'We thank you' many thousands moe + That go before it. + LEONTES. Stay your thanks a while, + And pay them when you part. + POLIXENES. Sir, that's to-morrow. + I am question'd by my fears of what may chance + Or breed upon our absence, that may blow + No sneaping winds at home, to make us say + 'This is put forth too truly.' Besides, I have stay'd + To tire your royalty. + LEONTES. We are tougher, brother, + Than you can put us to't. + POLIXENES. No longer stay. + LEONTES. One sev'night longer. + POLIXENES. Very sooth, to-morrow. + LEONTES. We'll part the time between's then; and in that + I'll no gainsaying. + POLIXENES. Press me not, beseech you, so. + There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' th' world, + So soon as yours could win me. So it should now, + Were there necessity in your request, although + 'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs + Do even drag me homeward; which to hinder + Were in your love a whip to me; my stay + To you a charge and trouble. To save both, + Farewell, our brother. + LEONTES. Tongue-tied, our Queen? Speak you. + HERMIONE. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until + You had drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir, + Charge him too coldly. Tell him you are sure + All in Bohemia's well- this satisfaction + The by-gone day proclaim'd. Say this to him, + He's beat from his best ward. + LEONTES. Well said, Hermione. + HERMIONE. To tell he longs to see his son were strong; + But let him say so then, and let him go; + But let him swear so, and he shall not stay; + We'll thwack him hence with distaffs. + [To POLIXENES] Yet of your royal presence I'll + adventure the borrow of a week. When at Bohemia + You take my lord, I'll give him my commission + To let him there a month behind the gest + Prefix'd for's parting.- Yet, good deed, Leontes, + I love thee not a jar o' th' clock behind + What lady she her lord.- You'll stay? + POLIXENES. No, madam. + HERMIONE. Nay, but you will? + POLIXENES. I may not, verily. + HERMIONE. Verily! + You put me off with limber vows; but I, + Though you would seek t' unsphere the stars with oaths, + Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily, + You shall not go; a lady's 'verily' is + As potent as a lord's. Will go yet? + Force me to keep you as a prisoner, + Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees + When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you? + My prisoner or my guest? By your dread 'verily,' + One of them you shall be. + POLIXENES. Your guest, then, madam: + To be your prisoner should import offending; + Which is for me less easy to commit + Than you to punish. + HERMIONE. Not your gaoler then, + But your kind. hostess. Come, I'll question you + Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys. + You were pretty lordings then! + POLIXENES. We were, fair Queen, + Two lads that thought there was no more behind + But such a day to-morrow as to-day, + And to be boy eternal. + HERMIONE. Was not my lord + The verier wag o' th' two? + POLIXENES. We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' th' sun + And bleat the one at th' other. What we chang'd + Was innocence for innocence; we knew not + The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd + That any did. Had we pursu'd that life, + And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd + With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven + Boldly 'Not guilty,' the imposition clear'd + Hereditary ours. + HERMIONE. By this we gather + You have tripp'd since. + POLIXENES. O my most sacred lady, + Temptations have since then been born to 's, for + In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl; + Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes + Of my young playfellow. + HERMIONE. Grace to boot! + Of this make no conclusion, lest you say + Your queen and I are devils. Yet, go on; + Th' offences we have made you do we'll answer, + If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us + You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not + With any but with us. + LEONTES. Is he won yet? + HERMIONE. He'll stay, my lord. + LEONTES. At my request he would not. + Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st + To better purpose. + HERMIONE. Never? + LEONTES. Never but once. + HERMIONE. What! Have I twice said well? When was't before? + I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and make's + As fat as tame things. One good deed dying tongueless + Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. + Our praises are our wages; you may ride's + With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere + With spur we heat an acre. But to th' goal: + My last good deed was to entreat his stay; + What was my first? It has an elder sister, + Or I mistake you. O, would her name were Grace! + But once before I spoke to th' purpose- When? + Nay, let me have't; I long. + LEONTES. Why, that was when + Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death, + Ere I could make thee open thy white hand + And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter + 'I am yours for ever.' + HERMIONE. 'Tis Grace indeed. + Why, lo you now, I have spoke to th' purpose twice: + The one for ever earn'd a royal husband; + Th' other for some while a friend. + [Giving her hand to POLIXENES] + LEONTES. [Aside] Too hot, too hot! + To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods. + I have tremor cordis on me; my heart dances, + But not for joy, not joy. This entertainment + May a free face put on; derive a liberty + From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, + And well become the agent. 'T may, I grant; + But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, + As now they are, and making practis'd smiles + As in a looking-glass; and then to sigh, as 'twere + The mort o' th' deer. O, that is entertainment + My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius, + Art thou my boy? + MAMILLIUS. Ay, my good lord. + LEONTES. I' fecks! + Why, that's my bawcock. What! hast smutch'd thy nose? + They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, Captain, + We must be neat- not neat, but cleanly, Captain. + And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf, + Are all call'd neat.- Still virginalling + Upon his palm?- How now, you wanton calf, + Art thou my calf? + MAMILLIUS. Yes, if you will, my lord. + LEONTES. Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have, + To be full like me; yet they say we are + Almost as like as eggs. Women say so, + That will say anything. But were they false + As o'er-dy'd blacks, as wind, as waters- false + As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes + No bourn 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true + To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page, + Look on me with your welkin eye. Sweet villain! + Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam?- may't be? + Affection! thy intention stabs the centre. + Thou dost make possible things not so held, + Communicat'st with dreams- how can this be?- + With what's unreal thou coactive art, + And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent + Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost- + And that beyond commission; and I find it, + And that to the infection of my brains + And hard'ning of my brows. + POLIXENES. What means Sicilia? + HERMIONE. He something seems unsettled. + POLIXENES. How, my lord! + What cheer? How is't with you, best brother? + HERMIONE. You look + As if you held a brow of much distraction. + Are you mov'd, my lord? + LEONTES. No, in good earnest. + How sometimes nature will betray its folly, + Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime + To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines + Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil + Twenty-three years; and saw myself unbreech'd, + In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzl'd, + Lest it should bite its master and so prove, + As ornaments oft do, too dangerous. + How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, + This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend, + Will you take eggs for money? + MAMILLIUS. No, my lord, I'll fight. + LEONTES. You will? Why, happy man be's dole! My brother, + Are you so fond of your young prince as we + Do seem to be of ours? + POLIXENES. If at home, sir, + He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter; + Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy; + My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all. + He makes a July's day short as December, + And with his varying childness cures in me + Thoughts that would thick my blood. + LEONTES. So stands this squire + Offic'd with me. We two will walk, my lord, + And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione, + How thou lov'st us show in our brother's welcome; + Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap; + Next to thyself and my young rover, he's + Apparent to my heart. + HERMIONE. If you would seek us, + We are yours i' th' garden. Shall's attend you there? + LEONTES. To your own bents dispose you; you'll be found, + Be you beneath the sky. [Aside] I am angling now, + Though you perceive me not how I give line. + Go to, go to! + How she holds up the neb, the bill to him! + And arms her with the boldness of a wife + To her allowing husband! + + Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and ATTENDANTS + + Gone already! + Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and ears a fork'd one! + Go, play, boy, play; thy mother plays, and I + Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue + Will hiss me to my grave. Contempt and clamour + Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There have been, + Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now; + And many a man there is, even at this present, + Now while I speak this, holds his wife by th' arm + That little thinks she has been sluic'd in's absence, + And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by + Sir Smile, his neighbour. Nay, there's comfort in't, + Whiles other men have gates and those gates open'd, + As mine, against their will. Should all despair + That hath revolted wives, the tenth of mankind + Would hang themselves. Physic for't there's none; + It is a bawdy planet, that will strike + Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis pow'rfull, think it, + From east, west, north, and south. Be it concluded, + No barricado for a belly. Know't, + It will let in and out the enemy + With bag and baggage. Many thousand on's + Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy! + MAMILLIUS. I am like you, they say. + LEONTES. Why, that's some comfort. + What! Camillo there? + CAMILLO. Ay, my good lord. + LEONTES. Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man. + Exit MAMILLIUS + Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. + CAMILLO. You had much ado to make his anchor hold; + When you cast out, it still came home. + LEONTES. Didst note it? + CAMILLO. He would not stay at your petitions; made + His business more material. + LEONTES. Didst perceive it? + [Aside] They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding, + 'Sicilia is a so-forth.' 'Tis far gone + When I shall gust it last.- How came't, Camillo, + That he did stay? + CAMILLO. At the good Queen's entreaty. + LEONTES. 'At the Queen's' be't. 'Good' should be pertinent; + But so it is, it is not. Was this taken + By any understanding pate but thine? + For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in + More than the common blocks. Not noted, is't, + But of the finer natures, by some severals + Of head-piece extraordinary? Lower messes + Perchance are to this business purblind? Say. + CAMILLO. Business, my lord? I think most understand + Bohemia stays here longer. + LEONTES. Ha? + CAMILLO. Stays here longer. + LEONTES. Ay, but why? + CAMILLO. To satisfy your Highness, and the entreaties + Of our most gracious mistress. + LEONTES. Satisfy + Th' entreaties of your mistress! Satisfy! + Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, + With all the nearest things to my heart, as well + My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou + Hast cleans'd my bosom- I from thee departed + Thy penitent reform'd; but we have been + Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd + In that which seems so. + CAMILLO. Be it forbid, my lord! + LEONTES. To bide upon't: thou art not honest; or, + If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward, + Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining + From course requir'd; or else thou must be counted + A servant grafted in my serious trust, + And therein negligent; or else a fool + That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, + And tak'st it all for jest. + CAMILLO. My gracious lord, + I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful: + In every one of these no man is free + But that his negligence, his folly, fear, + Among the infinite doings of the world, + Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord, + If ever I were wilfull-negligent, + It was my folly; if industriously + I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, + Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful + To do a thing where I the issue doubted, + Whereof the execution did cry out + Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear + Which oft infects the wisest. These, my lord, + Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty + Is never free of. But, beseech your Grace, + Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass + By its own visage; if I then deny it, + 'Tis none of mine. + LEONTES. Ha' not you seen, Camillo- + But that's past doubt; you have, or your eye-glass + Is thicker than a cuckold's horn- or heard- + For to a vision so apparent rumour + Cannot be mute- or thought- for cogitation + Resides not in that man that does not think- + My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess- + Or else be impudently negative, + To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought- then say + My wife's a hobby-horse, deserves a name + As rank as any flax-wench that puts to + Before her troth-plight. Say't and justify't. + CAMILLO. I would not be a stander-by to hear + My sovereign mistress clouded so, without + My present vengeance taken. Shrew my heart! + You never spoke what did become you less + Than this; which to reiterate were sin + As deep as that, though true. + LEONTES. Is whispering nothing? + Is leaning cheek to cheek? Is meeting noses? + Kissing with inside lip? Stopping the career + Of laughter with a sigh?- a note infallible + Of breaking honesty. Horsing foot on foot? + Skulking in corners? Wishing clocks more swift; + Hours, minutes; noon, midnight? And all eyes + Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only, + That would unseen be wicked- is this nothing? + Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing; + The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; + My is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, + If this be nothing. + CAMILLO. Good my lord, be cur'd + Of this diseas'd opinion, and betimes; + For 'tis most dangerous. + LEONTES. Say it be, 'tis true. + CAMILLO. No, no, my lord. + LEONTES. It is; you lie, you lie. + I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee; + Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave, + Or else a hovering temporizer that + Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, + Inclining to them both. Were my wife's liver + Infected as her life, she would not live + The running of one glass. + CAMILLO. Who does her? + LEONTES. Why, he that wears her like her medal, hanging + About his neck, Bohemia; who- if I + Had servants true about me that bare eyes + To see alike mine honour as their profits, + Their own particular thrifts, they would do that + Which should undo more doing. Ay, and thou, + His cupbearer- whom I from meaner form + Have bench'd and rear'd to worship; who mayst see, + Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven, + How I am gall'd- mightst bespice a cup + To give mine enemy a lasting wink; + Which draught to me were cordial. + CAMILLO. Sir, my lord, + I could do this; and that with no rash potion, + But with a ling'ring dram that should not work + Maliciously like poison. But I cannot + Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, + So sovereignly being honourable. + I have lov'd thee- + LEONTES. Make that thy question, and go rot! + Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled, + To appoint myself in this vexation; sully + The purity and whiteness of my sheets- + Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted + Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps; + Give scandal to the blood o' th' Prince, my son- + Who I do think is mine, and love as mine- + Without ripe moving to 't? Would I do this? + Could man so blench? + CAMILLO. I must believe you, sir. + I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't; + Provided that, when he's remov'd, your Highness + Will take again your queen as yours at first, + Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealing + The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms + Known and allied to yours. + LEONTES. Thou dost advise me + Even so as I mine own course have set down. + I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. + CAMILLO. My lord, + Go then; and with a countenance as clear + As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia + And with your queen. I am his cupbearer; + If from me he have wholesome beverage, + Account me not your servant. + LEONTES. This is all: + Do't, and thou hast the one half of my heart; + Do't not, thou split'st thine own. + CAMILLO. I'll do't, my lord. + LEONTES. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advis'd me. Exit + CAMILLO. O miserable lady! But, for me, + What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner + Of good Polixenes; and my ground to do't + Is the obedience to a master; one + Who, in rebellion with himself, will have + All that are his so too. To do this deed, + Promotion follows. If I could find example + Of thousands that had struck anointed kings + And flourish'd after, I'd not do't; but since + Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, + Let villainy itself forswear't. I must + Forsake the court. To do't, or no, is certain + To me a break-neck. Happy star reign now! + Here comes Bohemia. + + Enter POLIXENES + + POLIXENES. This is strange. Methinks + My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? + Good day, Camillo. + CAMILLO. Hail, most royal sir! + POLIXENES. What is the news i' th' court? + CAMILLO. None rare, my lord. + POLIXENES. The King hath on him such a countenance + As he had lost some province, and a region + Lov'd as he loves himself; even now I met him + With customary compliment, when he, + Wafting his eyes to th' contrary and falling + A lip of much contempt, speeds from me; + So leaves me to consider what is breeding + That changes thus his manners. + CAMILLO. I dare not know, my lord. + POLIXENES. How, dare not! Do not. Do you know, and dare not + Be intelligent to me? 'Tis thereabouts; + For, to yourself, what you do know, you must, + And cannot say you dare not. Good Camillo, + Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror + Which shows me mine chang'd too; for I must be + A party in this alteration, finding + Myself thus alter'd with't. + CAMILLO. There is a sickness + Which puts some of us in distemper; but + I cannot name the disease; and it is caught + Of you that yet are well. + POLIXENES. How! caught of me? + Make me not sighted like the basilisk; + I have look'd on thousands who have sped the better + By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo- + As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto + Clerk-like experienc'd, which no less adorns + Our gentry than our parents' noble names, + In whose success we are gentle- I beseech you, + If you know aught which does behove my knowledge + Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not + In ignorant concealment. + CAMILLO. I may not answer. + POLIXENES. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well? + I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo? + I conjure thee, by all the parts of man + Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the least + Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare + What incidency thou dost guess of harm + Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; + Which way to be prevented, if to be; + If not, how best to bear it. + CAMILLO. Sir, I will tell you; + Since I am charg'd in honour, and by him + That I think honourable. Therefore mark my counsel, + Which must be ev'n as swiftly followed as + I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me + Cry lost, and so goodnight. + POLIXENES. On, good Camillo. + CAMILLO. I am appointed him to murder you. + POLIXENES. By whom, Camillo? + CAMILLO. By the King. + POLIXENES. For what? + CAMILLO. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears, + As he had seen 't or been an instrument + To vice you to't, that you have touch'd his queen + Forbiddenly. + POLIXENES. O, then my best blood turn + To an infected jelly, and my name + Be yok'd with his that did betray the Best! + Turn then my freshest reputation to + A savour that may strike the dullest nostril + Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd, + Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection + That e'er was heard or read! + CAMILLO. Swear his thought over + By each particular star in heaven and + By all their influences, you may as well + Forbid the sea for to obey the moon + As or by oath remove or counsel shake + The fabric of his folly, whose foundation + Is pil'd upon his faith and will continue + The standing of his body. + POLIXENES. How should this grow? + CAMILLO. I know not; but I am sure 'tis safer to + Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born. + If therefore you dare trust my honesty, + That lies enclosed in this trunk which you + Shall bear along impawn'd, away to-night. + Your followers I will whisper to the business; + And will, by twos and threes, at several posterns, + Clear them o' th' city. For myself, I'll put + My fortunes to your service, which are here + By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain, + For, by the honour of my parents, I + Have utt'red truth; which if you seek to prove, + I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer + Than one condemn'd by the King's own mouth, thereon + His execution sworn. + POLIXENES. I do believe thee: + I saw his heart in's face. Give me thy hand; + Be pilot to me, and thy places shall + Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready, and + My people did expect my hence departure + Two days ago. This jealousy + Is for a precious creature; as she's rare, + Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty, + Must it be violent; and as he does conceive + He is dishonour'd by a man which ever + Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must + In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me. + Good expedition be my friend, and comfort + The gracious Queen, part of this theme, but nothing + Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo; + I will respect thee as a father, if + Thou bear'st my life off hence. Let us avoid. + CAMILLO. It is in mine authority to command + The keys of all the posterns. Please your Highness + To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT II. SCENE I. +Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES + +Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and LADIES + + HERMIONE. Take the boy to you; he so troubles me, + 'Tis past enduring. + FIRST LADY. Come, my gracious lord, + Shall I be your playfellow? + MAMILLIUS. No, I'll none of you. + FIRST LADY. Why, my sweet lord? + MAMILLIUS. You'll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if + I were a baby still. I love you better. + SECOND LADY. And why so, my lord? + MAMILLIUS. Not for because + Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, + Become some women best; so that there be not + Too much hair there, but in a semicircle + Or a half-moon made with a pen. + SECOND LADY. Who taught't this? + MAMILLIUS. I learn'd it out of women's faces. Pray now, + What colour are your eyebrows? + FIRST LADY. Blue, my lord. + MAMILLIUS. Nay, that's a mock. I have seen a lady's nose + That has been blue, but not her eyebrows. + FIRST LADY. Hark ye: + The Queen your mother rounds apace. We shall + Present our services to a fine new prince + One of these days; and then you'd wanton with us, + If we would have you. + SECOND LADY. She is spread of late + Into a goodly bulk. Good time encounter her! + HERMIONE. What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now + I am for you again. Pray you sit by us, + And tell's a tale. + MAMILLIUS. Merry or sad shall't be? + HERMIONE. As merry as you will. + MAMILLIUS. A sad tale's best for winter. I have one + Of sprites and goblins. + HERMIONE. Let's have that, good sir. + Come on, sit down; come on, and do your best + To fright me with your sprites; you're pow'rfull at it. + MAMILLIUS. There was a man- + HERMIONE. Nay, come, sit down; then on. + MAMILLIUS. Dwelt by a churchyard- I will tell it softly; + Yond crickets shall not hear it. + HERMIONE. Come on then, + And give't me in mine ear. + + Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, LORDS, and OTHERS + + LEONTES. he met there? his train? Camillo with him? + FIRST LORD. Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never + Saw I men scour so on their way. I ey'd them + Even to their ships. + LEONTES. How blest am I + In my just censure, in my true opinion! + Alack, for lesser knowledge! How accurs'd + In being so blest! There may be in the cup + A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart, + And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge + Is not infected; but if one present + Th' abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known + How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides, + With violent hefts. I have drunk, and seen the spider. + Camillo was his help in this, his pander. + There is a plot against my life, my crown; + All's true that is mistrusted. That false villain + Whom I employ'd was pre-employ'd by him; + He has discover'd my design, and I + Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick + For them to play at will. How came the posterns + So easily open? + FIRST LORD. By his great authority; + Which often hath no less prevail'd than so + On your command. + LEONTES. I know't too well. + Give me the boy. I am glad you did not nurse him; + Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you + Have too much blood in him. + HERMIONE. What is this? Sport? + LEONTES. Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her; + Away with him; and let her sport herself + [MAMILLIUS is led out] + With that she's big with- for 'tis Polixenes + Has made thee swell thus. + HERMIONE. But I'd say he had not, + And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying, + Howe'er you lean to th' nayward. + LEONTES. You, my lords, + Look on her, mark her well; be but about + To say 'She is a goodly lady' and + The justice of your hearts will thereto ad + 'Tis pity she's not honest- honourable.' + Praise her but for this her without-door form, + Which on my faith deserves high speech, and straight + The shrug, the hum or ha, these petty brands + That calumny doth use- O, I am out!- + That mercy does, for calumny will sear + Virtue itself- these shrugs, these hum's and ha's, + When you have said she's goodly, come between, + Ere you can say she's honest. But be't known, + From him that has most cause to grieve it should be, + She's an adultress. + HERMIONE. Should a villain say so, + The most replenish'd villain in the world, + He were as much more villain: you, my lord, + Do but mistake. + LEONTES. You have mistook, my lady, + Polixenes for Leontes. O thou thing! + Which I'll not call a creature of thy place, + Lest barbarism, making me the precedent, + Should a like language use to all degrees + And mannerly distinguishment leave out + Betwixt the prince and beggar. I have said + She's an adultress; I have said with whom. + More, she's a traitor; and Camillo is + A federary with her, and one that knows + What she should shame to know herself + But with her most vile principal- that she's + A bed-swerver, even as bad as those + That vulgars give bold'st titles; ay, and privy + To this their late escape. + HERMIONE. No, by my life, + Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you, + When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that + You thus have publish'd me! Gentle my lord, + You scarce can right me throughly then to say + You did mistake. + LEONTES. No; if I mistake + In those foundations which I build upon, + The centre is not big enough to bear + A school-boy's top. Away with her to prison. + He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty + But that he speaks. + HERMIONE. There's some ill planet reigns. + I must be patient till the heavens look + With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords, + I am not prone to weeping, as our sex + Commonly are- the want of which vain dew + Perchance shall dry your pities- but I have + That honourable grief lodg'd here which burns + Worse than tears drown. Beseech you all, my lords, + With thoughts so qualified as your charities + Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so + The King's will be perform'd! + LEONTES. [To the GUARD] Shall I be heard? + HERMIONE. Who is't that goes with me? Beseech your highness + My women may be with me, for you see + My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools; + There is no cause; when you shall know your mistress + Has deserv'd prison, then abound in tears + As I come out: this action I now go on + Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord. + I never wish'd to see you sorry; now + I trust I shall. My women, come; you have leave. + LEONTES. Go, do our bidding; hence! + Exeunt HERMIONE, guarded, and LADIES + FIRST LORD. Beseech your Highness, call the Queen again. + ANTIGONUS. Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice + Prove violence, in the which three great ones suffer, + Yourself, your queen, your son. + FIRST LORD. For her, my lord, + I dare my life lay down- and will do't, sir, + Please you t' accept it- that the Queen is spotless + I' th' eyes of heaven and to you- I mean + In this which you accuse her. + ANTIGONUS. If it prove + She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where + I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her; + Than when I feel and see her no farther trust her; + For every inch of woman in the world, + Ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false, + If she be. + LEONTES. Hold your peaces. + FIRST LORD. Good my lord- + ANTIGONUS. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves. + You are abus'd, and by some putter-on + That will be damn'd for't. Would I knew the villain! + I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw'd- + I have three daughters: the eldest is eleven; + The second and the third, nine and some five; + If this prove true, they'll pay for 't. By mine honour, + I'll geld 'em all; fourteen they shall not see + To bring false generations. They are co-heirs; + And I had rather glib myself than they + Should not produce fair issue. + LEONTES. Cease; no more. + You smell this business with a sense as cold + As is a dead man's nose; but I do see't and feel't + As you feel doing thus; and see withal + The instruments that feel. + ANTIGONUS. If it be so, + We need no grave to bury honesty; + There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten + Of the whole dungy earth. + LEONTES. What! Lack I credit? + FIRST LORD. I had rather you did lack than I, my lord, + Upon this ground; and more it would content me + To have her honour true than your suspicion, + Be blam'd for't how you might. + LEONTES. Why, what need we + Commune with you of this, but rather follow + Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative + Calls not your counsels; but our natural goodness + Imparts this; which, if you- or stupified + Or seeming so in skill- cannot or will not + Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves + We need no more of your advice. The matter, + The loss, the gain, the ord'ring on't, is all + Properly ours. + ANTIGONUS. And I wish, my liege, + You had only in your silent judgment tried it, + Without more overture. + LEONTES. How could that be? + Either thou art most ignorant by age, + Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight, + Added to their familiarity- + Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture, + That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation + But only seeing, all other circumstances + Made up to th' deed- doth push on this proceeding. + Yet, for a greater confirmation- + For, in an act of this importance, 'twere + Most piteous to be wild- I have dispatch'd in post + To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, + Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know + Of stuff'd sufficiency. Now, from the oracle + They will bring all, whose spiritual counsel had, + Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well? + FIRST LORD. Well done, my lord. + LEONTES. Though I am satisfied, and need no more + Than what I know, yet shall the oracle + Give rest to th' minds of others such as he + Whose ignorant credulity will not + Come up to th' truth. So have we thought it good + From our free person she should be confin'd, + Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence + Be left her to perform. Come, follow us; + We are to speak in public; for this business + Will raise us all. + ANTIGONUS. [Aside] To laughter, as I take it, + If the good truth were known. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Sicilia. A prison + +Enter PAULINA, a GENTLEMAN, and ATTENDANTS + + PAULINA. The keeper of the prison- call to him; + Let him have knowledge who I am. Exit GENTLEMAN + Good lady! + No court in Europe is too good for thee; + What dost thou then in prison? + + Re-enter GENTLEMAN with the GAOLER + + Now, good sir, + You know me, do you not? + GAOLER. For a worthy lady, + And one who much I honour. + PAULINA. Pray you, then, + Conduct me to the Queen. + GAOLER. I may not, madam; + To the contrary I have express commandment. + PAULINA. Here's ado, to lock up honesty and honour from + Th' access of gentle visitors! Is't lawful, pray you, + To see her women- any of them? Emilia? + GAOLER. So please you, madam, + To put apart these your attendants, + Shall bring Emilia forth. + PAULINA. I pray now, call her. + Withdraw yourselves. Exeunt ATTENDANTS + GAOLER. And, madam, + I must be present at your conference. + PAULINA. Well, be't so, prithee. Exit GAOLER + Here's such ado to make no stain a stain + As passes colouring. + + Re-enter GAOLER, with EMILIA + + Dear gentlewoman, + How fares our gracious lady? + EMILIA. As well as one so great and so forlorn + May hold together. On her frights and griefs, + Which never tender lady hath borne greater, + She is, something before her time, deliver'd. + PAULINA. A boy? + EMILIA. A daughter, and a goodly babe, + Lusty, and like to live. The Queen receives + Much comfort in't; says 'My poor prisoner, + I am as innocent as you.' + PAULINA. I dare be sworn. + These dangerous unsafe lunes i' th' King, beshrew them! + He must be told on't, and he shall. The office + Becomes a woman best; I'll take't upon me; + If I prove honey-mouth'd, let my tongue blister, + And never to my red-look'd anger be + The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia, + Commend my best obedience to the Queen; + If she dares trust me with her little babe, + I'll show't the King, and undertake to be + Her advocate to th' loud'st. We do not know + How he may soften at the sight o' th' child: + The silence often of pure innocence + Persuades when speaking fails. + EMILIA. Most worthy madam, + Your honour and your goodness is so evident + That your free undertaking cannot miss + A thriving issue; there is no lady living + So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship + To visit the next room, I'll presently + Acquaint the Queen of your most noble offer + Who but to-day hammer'd of this design, + But durst not tempt a minister of honour, + Lest she should be denied. + PAULINA. Tell her, Emilia, + I'll use that tongue I have; if wit flow from't + As boldness from my bosom, let't not be doubted + I shall do good. + EMILIA. Now be you blest for it! + I'll to the Queen. Please you come something nearer. + GAOLER. Madam, if't please the Queen to send the babe, + I know not what I shall incur to pass it, + Having no warrant. + PAULINA. You need not fear it, sir. + This child was prisoner to the womb, and is + By law and process of great Nature thence + Freed and enfranchis'd- not a party to + The anger of the King, nor guilty of, + If any be, the trespass of the Queen. + GAOLER. I do believe it. + PAULINA. Do not you fear. Upon mine honour, I + Will stand betwixt you and danger. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES + +Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, LORDS, and SERVANTS + + LEONTES. Nor night nor day no rest! It is but weakness + To bear the matter thus- mere weakness. If + The cause were not in being- part o' th' cause, + She, th' adultress; for the harlot king + Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank + And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she + I can hook to me- say that she were gone, + Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest + Might come to me again. Who's there? + FIRST SERVANT. My lord? + LEONTES. How does the boy? + FIRST SERVANT. He took good rest to-night; + 'Tis hop'd his sickness is discharg'd. + LEONTES. To see his nobleness! + Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, + He straight declin'd, droop'd, took it deeply, + Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself, + Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, + And downright languish'd. Leave me solely. Go, + See how he fares. [Exit SERVANT] Fie, fie! no thought of him! + The very thought of my revenges that way + Recoil upon me- in himself too mighty, + And in his parties, his alliance. Let him be, + Until a time may serve; for present vengeance, + Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes + Laugh at me, make their pastime at my sorrow. + They should not laugh if I could reach them; nor + Shall she, within my pow'r. + + Enter PAULINA, with a CHILD + + FIRST LORD. You must not enter. + PAULINA. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me. + Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, + Than the Queen's life? A gracious innocent soul, + More free than he is jealous. + ANTIGONUS. That's enough. + SECOND SERVANT. Madam, he hath not slept to-night; commanded + None should come at him. + PAULINA. Not so hot, good sir; + I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you, + That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh + At each his needless heavings- such as you + Nourish the cause of his awaking: I + Do come with words as medicinal as true, + Honest as either, to purge him of that humour + That presses him from sleep. + LEONTES. What noise there, ho? + PAULINA. No noise, my lord; but needful conference + About some gossips for your Highness. + LEONTES. How! + Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus, + I charg'd thee that she should not come about me; + I knew she would. + ANTIGONUS. I told her so, my lord, + On your displeasure's peril, and on mine, + She should not visit you. + LEONTES. What, canst not rule her? + PAULINA. From all dishonesty he can: in this, + Unless he take the course that you have done- + Commit me for committing honour- trust it, + He shall not rule me. + ANTIGONUS. La you now, you hear! + When she will take the rein, I let her run; + But she'll not stumble. + PAULINA. Good my liege, I come- + And I beseech you hear me, who professes + Myself your loyal servant, your physician, + Your most obedient counsellor; yet that dares + Less appear so, in comforting your evils, + Than such as most seem yours- I say I come + From your good Queen. + LEONTES. Good Queen! + PAULINA. Good Queen, my lord, good Queen- I say good Queen; + And would by combat make her good, so were I + A man, the worst about you. + LEONTES. Force her hence. + PAULINA. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes + First hand me. On mine own accord I'll off; + But first I'll do my errand. The good Queen, + For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter; + Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing. + [Laying down the child] + LEONTES. Out! + A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door! + A most intelligencing bawd! + PAULINA. Not so. + I am as ignorant in that as you + In so entitling me; and no less honest + Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant, + As this world goes, to pass for honest. + LEONTES. Traitors! + Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard. + [To ANTIGONUS] Thou dotard, thou art woman-tir'd, unroosted + By thy Dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard; + Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone. + PAULINA. For ever + Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou + Tak'st up the Princess by that forced baseness + Which he has put upon't! + LEONTES. He dreads his wife. + PAULINA. So I would you did; then 'twere past all doubt + You'd call your children yours. + LEONTES. A nest of traitors! + ANTIGONUS. I am none, by this good light. + PAULINA. Nor I; nor any + But one that's here; and that's himself; for he + The sacred honour of himself, his Queen's, + His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, + Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not- + For, as the case now stands, it is a curse + He cannot be compell'd to 't- once remove + The root of his opinion, which is rotten + As ever oak or stone was sound. + LEONTES. A callat + Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband, + And now baits me! This brat is none of mine; + It is the issue of Polixenes. + Hence with it, and together with the dam + Commit them to the fire. + PAULINA. It is yours. + And, might we lay th' old proverb to your charge, + So like you 'tis the worse. Behold, my lords, + Although the print be little, the whole matter + And copy of the father- eye, nose, lip, + The trick of's frown, his forehead; nay, the valley, + The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek; his smiles; + The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger. + And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it + So like to him that got it, if thou hast + The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours + No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does, + Her children not her husband's! + LEONTES. A gross hag! + And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd + That wilt not stay her tongue. + ANTIGONUS. Hang all the husbands + That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself + Hardly one subject. + LEONTES. Once more, take her hence. + PAULINA. A most unworthy and unnatural lord + Can do no more. + LEONTES. I'll ha' thee burnt. + PAULINA. I care not. + It is an heretic that makes the fire, + Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant + But this most cruel usage of your Queen- + Not able to produce more accusation + Than your own weak-hing'd fancy- something savours + Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, + Yea, scandalous to the world. + LEONTES. On your allegiance, + Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant, + Where were her life? She durst not call me so, + If she did know me one. Away with her! + PAULINA. I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. + Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours. Jove send her + A better guiding spirit! What needs these hands? + You that are thus so tender o'er his follies + Will never do him good, not one of you. + So, so. Farewell; we are gone. Exit + LEONTES. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. + My child! Away with't. Even thou, that hast + A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence, + And see it instantly consum'd with fire; + Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight. + Within this hour bring me word 'tis done, + And by good testimony, or I'll seize thy life, + With that thou else call'st thine. If thou refuse, + And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so; + The bastard brains with these my proper hands + Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire; + For thou set'st on thy wife. + ANTIGONUS. I did not, sir. + These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, + Can clear me in't. + LORDS. We can. My royal liege, + He is not guilty of her coming hither. + LEONTES. You're liars all. + FIRST LORD. Beseech your Highness, give us better credit. + We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech + So to esteem of us; and on our knees we beg, + As recompense of our dear services + Past and to come, that you do change this purpose, + Which being so horrible, so bloody, must + Lead on to some foul issue. We all kneel. + LEONTES. I am a feather for each wind that blows. + Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel + And call me father? Better burn it now + Than curse it then. But be it; let it live. + It shall not neither. [To ANTIGONUS] You, Sir, come you hither. + You that have been so tenderly officious + With Lady Margery, your midwife there, + To save this bastard's life- for 'tis a bastard, + So sure as this beard's grey- what will you adventure + To save this brat's life? + ANTIGONUS. Anything, my lord, + That my ability may undergo, + And nobleness impose. At least, thus much: + I'll pawn the little blood which I have left + To save the innocent- anything possible. + LEONTES. It shall be possible. Swear by this sword + Thou wilt perform my bidding. + ANTIGONUS. I will, my lord. + LEONTES. Mark, and perform it- seest thou? For the fail + Of any point in't shall not only be + Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongu'd wife, + Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee, + As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry + This female bastard hence; and that thou bear it + To some remote and desert place, quite out + Of our dominions; and that there thou leave it, + Without more mercy, to it own protection + And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune + It came to us, I do in justice charge thee, + On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture, + That thou commend it strangely to some place + Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up. + ANTIGONUS. I swear to do this, though a present death + Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe. + Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens + To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say, + Casting their savageness aside, have done + Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous + In more than this deed does require! And blessing + Against this cruelty fight on thy side, + Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! Exit with the child + LEONTES. No, I'll not rear + Another's issue. + + Enter a SERVANT + + SERVANT. Please your Highness, posts + From those you sent to th' oracle are come + An hour since. Cleomenes and Dion, + Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both landed, + Hasting to th' court. + FIRST LORD. So please you, sir, their speed + Hath been beyond account. + LEONTES. Twenty-three days + They have been absent; 'tis good speed; foretells + The great Apollo suddenly will have + The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords; + Summon a session, that we may arraign + Our most disloyal lady; for, as she hath + Been publicly accus'd, so shall she have + A just and open trial. While she lives, + My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me; + And think upon my bidding. Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT III. SCENE I. +Sicilia. On the road to the Capital + +Enter CLEOMENES and DION + + CLEOMENES. The climate's delicate, the air most sweet, + Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing + The common praise it bears. + DION. I shall report, + For most it caught me, the celestial habits- + Methinks I so should term them- and the reverence + Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! + How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly, + It was i' th' off'ring! + CLEOMENES. But of all, the burst + And the ear-deaf'ning voice o' th' oracle, + Kin to Jove's thunder, so surpris'd my sense + That I was nothing. + DION. If th' event o' th' journey + Prove as successful to the Queen- O, be't so!- + As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy, + The time is worth the use on't. + CLEOMENES. Great Apollo + Turn all to th' best! These proclamations, + So forcing faults upon Hermione, + I little like. + DION. The violent carriage of it + Will clear or end the business. When the oracle- + Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up- + Shall the contents discover, something rare + Even then will rush to knowledge. Go; fresh horses. + And gracious be the issue! Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Sicilia. A court of justice + +Enter LEONTES, LORDS, and OFFICERS + + LEONTES. This sessions, to our great grief we pronounce, + Even pushes 'gainst our heart- the party tried, + The daughter of a king, our wife, and one + Of us too much belov'd. Let us be clear'd + Of being tyrannous, since we so openly + Proceed in justice, which shall have due course, + Even to the guilt or the purgation. + Produce the prisoner. + OFFICER. It is his Highness' pleasure that the Queen + Appear in person here in court. + + Enter HERMIONE, as to her trial, PAULINA, and LADIES + + Silence! + LEONTES. Read the indictment. + OFFICER. [Reads] 'Hermione, Queen to the worthy Leontes, King of + Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in + committing adultery with Polixenes, King of Bohemia; and + conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign + lord the King, thy royal husband: the pretence whereof being by + circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the + faith and allegiance of true subject, didst counsel and aid them, + for their better safety, to fly away by night.' + HERMIONE. Since what I am to say must be but that + Which contradicts my accusation, and + The testimony on my part no other + But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me + To say 'Not guilty.' Mine integrity + Being counted falsehood shall, as I express it, + Be so receiv'd. But thus- if pow'rs divine + Behold our human actions, as they do, + I doubt not then but innocence shall make + False accusation blush, and tyranny + Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know- + Who least will seem to do so- my past life + Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, + As I am now unhappy; which is more + Than history can pattern, though devis'd + And play'd to take spectators; for behold me- + A fellow of the royal bed, which owe + A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, + The mother to a hopeful prince- here standing + To prate and talk for life and honour fore + Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it + As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for honour, + 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, + And only that I stand for. I appeal + To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes + Came to your court, how I was in your grace, + How merited to be so; since he came, + With what encounter so uncurrent I + Have strain'd t' appear thus; if one jot beyond + The bound of honour, or in act or will + That way inclining, hard'ned be the hearts + Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin + Cry fie upon my grave! + LEONTES. I ne'er heard yet + That any of these bolder vices wanted + Less impudence to gainsay what they did + Than to perform it first. + HERMIONE. That's true enough; + Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me. + LEONTES. You will not own it. + HERMIONE. More than mistress of + Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not + At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, + With whom I am accus'd, I do confess + I lov'd him as in honour he requir'd; + With such a kind of love as might become + A lady like me; with a love even such, + So and no other, as yourself commanded; + Which not to have done, I think had been in me + Both disobedience and ingratitude + To you and toward your friend; whose love had spoke, + Ever since it could speak, from an infant, freely, + That it was yours. Now for conspiracy: + I know not how it tastes, though it be dish'd + For me to try how; all I know of it + Is that Camillo was an honest man; + And why he left your court, the gods themselves, + Wotting no more than I, are ignorant. + LEONTES. You knew of his departure, as you know + What you have underta'en to do in's absence. + HERMIONE. Sir, + You speak a language that I understand not. + My life stands in the level of your dreams, + Which I'll lay down. + LEONTES. Your actions are my dreams. + You had a bastard by Polixenes, + And I but dream'd it. As you were past all shame- + Those of your fact are so- so past all truth; + Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as + Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself, + No father owning it- which is indeed + More criminal in thee than it- so thou + Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage + Look for no less than death. + HERMIONE. Sir, spare your threats. + The bug which you would fright me with I seek. + To me can life be no commodity. + The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, + I do give lost, for I do feel it gone, + But know not how it went; my second joy + And first fruits of my body, from his presence + I am barr'd, like one infectious; my third comfort, + Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast- + The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth- + Hal'd out to murder; myself on every post + Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred + The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs + To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried + Here to this place, i' th' open air, before + I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, + Tell me what blessings I have here alive + That I should fear to die. Therefore proceed. + But yet hear this- mistake me not: no life, + I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour + Which I would free- if I shall be condemn'd + Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else + But what your jealousies awake, I tell you + 'Tis rigour, and not law. Your honours all, + I do refer me to the oracle: + Apollo be my judge! + FIRST LORD. This your request + Is altogether just. Therefore, bring forth, + And in Apollo's name, his oracle. + Exeunt certain OFFICERS + HERMIONE. The Emperor of Russia was my father; + O that he were alive, and here beholding + His daughter's trial! that he did but see + The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes + Of pity, not revenge! + + Re-enter OFFICERS, with CLEOMENES and DION + + OFFICER. You here shall swear upon this sword of justice + That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have + Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought + This seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd + Of great Apollo's priest; and that since then + You have not dar'd to break the holy seal + Nor read the secrets in't. + CLEOMENES, DION. All this we swear. + LEONTES. Break up the seals and read. + OFFICER. [Reads] 'Hermione is chaste; Polixenes blameless; + Camillo a true subject; Leontes a jealous tyrant; his innocent + babe truly begotten; and the King shall live without an heir, if + that which is lost be not found.' + LORDS. Now blessed be the great Apollo! + HERMIONE. Praised! + LEONTES. Hast thou read truth? + OFFICER. Ay, my lord; even so + As it is here set down. + LEONTES. There is no truth at all i' th' oracle. + The sessions shall proceed. This is mere falsehood. + + Enter a SERVANT + + SERVANT. My lord the King, the King! + LEONTES. What is the business? + SERVANT. O sir, I shall be hated to report it: + The Prince your son, with mere conceit and fear + Of the Queen's speed, is gone. + LEONTES. How! Gone? + SERVANT. Is dead. + LEONTES. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves + Do strike at my injustice. [HERMIONE swoons] + How now, there! + PAULINA. This news is mortal to the Queen. Look down + And see what death is doing. + LEONTES. Take her hence. + Her heart is but o'ercharg'd; she will recover. + I have too much believ'd mine own suspicion. + Beseech you tenderly apply to her + Some remedies for life. + Exeunt PAULINA and LADIES with HERMIONE + Apollo, pardon + My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle. + I'll reconcile me to Polixenes, + New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo- + Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy. + For, being transported by my jealousies + To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose + Camillo for the minister to poison + My friend Polixenes; which had been done + But that the good mind of Camillo tardied + My swift command, though I with death and with + Reward did threaten and encourage him, + Not doing it and being done. He, most humane + And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest + Unclasp'd my practice, quit his fortunes here, + Which you knew great, and to the certain hazard + Of all incertainties himself commended, + No richer than his honour. How he glisters + Thorough my rust! And how his piety + Does my deeds make the blacker! + + Re-enter PAULINA + + PAULINA. Woe the while! + O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it, + Break too! + FIRST LORD. What fit is this, good lady? + PAULINA. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? + What wheels, racks, fires? what flaying, boiling + In leads or oils? What old or newer torture + Must I receive, whose every word deserves + To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny + Together working with thy jealousies, + Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle + For girls of nine- O, think what they have done, + And then run mad indeed, stark mad; for all + Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. + That thou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing; + That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant, + And damnable ingrateful. Nor was't much + Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour, + To have him kill a king- poor trespasses, + More monstrous standing by; whereof I reckon + The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter + To be or none or little, though a devil + Would have shed water out of fire ere done't; + Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death + Of the young Prince, whose honourable thoughts- + Thoughts high for one so tender- cleft the heart + That could conceive a gross and foolish sire + Blemish'd his gracious dam. This is not, no, + Laid to thy answer; but the last- O lords, + When I have said, cry 'Woe!'- the Queen, the Queen, + The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead; and vengeance + For't not dropp'd down yet. + FIRST LORD. The higher pow'rs forbid! + PAULINA. I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath + Prevail not, go and see. If you can bring + Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye, + Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you + As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant! + Do not repent these things, for they are heavier + Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee + To nothing but despair. A thousand knees + Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, + Upon a barren mountain, and still winter + In storm perpetual, could not move the gods + To look that way thou wert. + LEONTES. Go on, go on. + Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd + All tongues to talk their bitt'rest. + FIRST LORD. Say no more; + Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault + I' th' boldness of your speech. + PAULINA. I am sorry for't. + All faults I make, when I shall come to know them. + I do repent. Alas, I have show'd too much + The rashness of a woman! He is touch'd + To th' noble heart. What's gone and what's past help + Should be past grief. Do not receive affliction + At my petition; I beseech you, rather + Let me be punish'd that have minded you + Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege, + Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman. + The love I bore your queen- lo, fool again! + I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children; + I'll not remember you of my own lord, + Who is lost too. Take your patience to you, + And I'll say nothing. + LEONTES. Thou didst speak but well + When most the truth; which I receive much better + Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me + To the dead bodies of my queen and son. + One grave shall be for both. Upon them shall + The causes of their death appear, unto + Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit + The chapel where they lie; and tears shed there + Shall be my recreation. So long as nature + Will bear up with this exercise, so long + I daily vow to use it. Come, and lead me + To these sorrows. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Bohemia. The sea-coast + +Enter ANTIGONUS with the CHILD, and a MARINER + + ANTIGONUS. Thou art perfect then our ship hath touch'd upon + The deserts of Bohemia? + MARINER. Ay, my lord, and fear + We have landed in ill time; the skies look grimly + And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, + The heavens with that we have in hand are angry + And frown upon 's. + ANTIGONUS. Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard; + Look to thy bark. I'll not be long before + I call upon thee. + MARINER. Make your best haste; and go not + Too far i' th' land; 'tis like to be loud weather; + Besides, this place is famous for the creatures + Of prey that keep upon't. + ANTIGONUS. Go thou away; + I'll follow instantly. + MARINER. I am glad at heart + To be so rid o' th' business. Exit + ANTIGONUS. Come, poor babe. + I have heard, but not believ'd, the spirits o' th' dead + May walk again. If such thing be, thy mother + Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream + So like a waking. To me comes a creature, + Sometimes her head on one side some another- + I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, + So fill'd and so becoming; in pure white robes, + Like very sanctity, she did approach + My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me; + And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes + Became two spouts; the fury spent, anon + Did this break from her: 'Good Antigonus, + Since fate, against thy better disposition, + Hath made thy person for the thrower-out + Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, + Places remote enough are in Bohemia, + There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe + Is counted lost for ever, Perdita + I prithee call't. For this ungentle business, + Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see + Thy wife Paulina more.' so, with shrieks, + She melted into air. Affrighted much, + I did in time collect myself, and thought + This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys; + Yet, for this once, yea, superstitiously, + I will be squar'd by this. I do believe + Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that + Apollo would, this being indeed the issue + Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid, + Either for life or death, upon the earth + Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well! + [Laying down the child] + There lie, and there thy character; there these + [Laying down a bundle] + Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, + And still rest thine. The storm begins. Poor wretch, + That for thy mother's fault art thus expos'd + To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, + But my heart bleeds; and most accurs'd am I + To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell! + The day frowns more and more. Thou'rt like to have + A lullaby too rough; I never saw + The heavens so dim by day. [Noise of hunt within] A savage + clamour! + Well may I get aboard! This is the chase; + I am gone for ever. Exit, pursued by a bear + + Enter an old SHEPHERD + + SHEPHERD. I would there were no age between ten and three and + twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is + nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging + the ancientry, stealing, fighting- [Horns] Hark you now! Would + any but these boil'd brains of nineteen and two and twenty hunt + this weather? They have scar'd away two of my best sheep, which I + fear the wolf will sooner find than the master. If any where I + have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't + be thy will! What have we here? [Taking up the child] Mercy + on's, a barne! A very pretty barne. A boy or a child, I wonder? A + pretty one; a very pretty one- sure, some scape. Though I am not + bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This + has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work; + they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here. I'll + take it up for pity; yet I'll tarry till my son come; he halloo'd + but even now. Whoa-ho-hoa! + + Enter CLOWN + + CLOWN. Hilloa, loa! + SHEPHERD. What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when + thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ail'st thou, man? + CLOWN. I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! But I am + not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the + firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point. + SHEPHERD. Why, boy, how is it? + CLOWN. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it + takes up the shore! But that's not to the point. O, the most + piteous cry of the poor souls! Sometimes to see 'em, and not to + see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast, and anon + swallowed with yeast and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a + hogshead. And then for the land service- to see how the bear tore + out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his + name was Antigonus, a nobleman! But to make an end of the ship- + to see how the sea flap-dragon'd it; but first, how the poor + souls roared, and the sea mock'd them; and how the poor gentleman + roared, and the bear mock'd him, both roaring louder than the sea + or weather. + SHEPHERD. Name of mercy, when was this, boy? + CLOWN. Now, now; I have not wink'd since I saw these sights; the + men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half din'd on the + gentleman; he's at it now. + SHEPHERD. Would I had been by to have help'd the old man! + CLOWN. I would you had been by the ship-side, to have help'd her; + there your charity would have lack'd footing. + SHEPHERD. Heavy matters, heavy matters! But look thee here, boy. + Now bless thyself; thou met'st with things dying, I with things + new-born. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for + a squire's child! Look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open't. + So, let's see- it was told me I should be rich by the fairies. + This is some changeling. Open't. What's within, boy? + CLOWN. You're a made old man; if the sins of your youth are + forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold! + SHEPHERD. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so. Up with't, + keep it close. Home, home, the next way! We are lucky, boy; and + to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go. + Come, good boy, the next way home. + CLOWN. Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see if the + bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten. They + are never curst but when they are hungry. If there be any of him + left, I'll bury it. + SHEPHERD. That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that which + is left of him what he is, fetch me to th' sight of him. + CLOWN. Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' th' ground. + SHEPHERD. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on't. + Exeunt + + + + +<> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE I. + +Enter TIME, the CHORUS + + TIME. I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror + Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error, + Now take upon me, in the name of Time, + To use my wings. Impute it not a crime + To me or my swift passage that I slide + O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried + Of that wide gap, since it is in my pow'r + To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour + To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass + The same I am, ere ancient'st order was + Or what is now receiv'd. I witness to + The times that brought them in; so shall I do + To th' freshest things now reigning, and make stale + The glistering of this present, as my tale + Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing, + I turn my glass, and give my scene such growing + As you had slept between. Leontes leaving- + Th' effects of his fond jealousies so grieving + That he shuts up himself- imagine me, + Gentle spectators, that I now may be + In fair Bohemia; and remember well + I mention'd a son o' th' King's, which Florizel + I now name to you; and with speed so pace + To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace + Equal with wond'ring. What of her ensues + I list not prophesy; but let Time's news + Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd's daughter, + And what to her adheres, which follows after, + Is th' argument of Time. Of this allow, + If ever you have spent time worse ere now; + If never, yet that Time himself doth say + He wishes earnestly you never may. Exit + + + + +SCENE II. +Bohemia. The palace of POLIXENES + +Enter POLIXENES and CAMILLO + + POLIXENES. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate: 'tis + a sickness denying thee anything; a death to grant this. + CAMILLO. It is fifteen years since I saw my country; though I have + for the most part been aired abroad, I desire to lay my bones + there. Besides, the penitent King, my master, hath sent for me; + to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to + think so, which is another spur to my departure. + POLIXENES. As thou lov'st me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of thy + services by leaving me now. The need I have of thee thine own + goodness hath made. Better not to have had thee than thus to want + thee; thou, having made me businesses which none without thee can + sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute them thyself, or + take away with thee the very services thou hast done; which if I + have not enough considered- as too much I cannot- to be more + thankful to thee shall be my study; and my profit therein the + heaping friendships. Of that fatal country Sicilia, prithee, + speak no more; whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance + of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled king, my + brother; whose loss of his most precious queen and children are + even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou the + Prince Florizel, my son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue + not being gracious, than they are in losing them when they have + approved their virtues. + CAMILLO. Sir, it is three days since I saw the Prince. What his + happier affairs may be are to me unknown; but I have missingly + noted he is of late much retired from court, and is less frequent + to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appeared. + POLIXENES. I have considered so much, Camillo, and with some care, + so far that I have eyes under my service which look upon his + removedness; from whom I have this intelligence, that he is + seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd- a man, they say, + that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his + neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate. + CAMILLO. I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of + most rare note. The report of her is extended more than can be + thought to begin from such a cottage. + POLIXENES. That's likewise part of my intelligence; but, I fear, the + angle that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the + place; where we will, not appearing what we are, have some + question with the shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not + uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Prithee be my + present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of + Sicilia. + CAMILLO. I willingly obey your command. + POLIXENES. My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Bohemia. A road near the SHEPHERD'S cottage + +Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing + + When daffodils begin to peer, + With heigh! the doxy over the dale, + Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year, + For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. + + The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, + With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! + Doth set my pugging tooth on edge, + For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. + + The lark, that tirra-lirra chants, + With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay, + Are summer songs for me and my aunts, + While we lie tumbling in the hay. + + I have serv'd Prince Florizel, and in my time wore three-pile; + but now I am out of service. + + But shall I go mourn for that, my dear? + The pale moon shines by night; + And when I wander here and there, + I then do most go right. + + If tinkers may have leave to live, + And bear the sow-skin budget, + Then my account I well may give + And in the stocks avouch it. + + My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. + My father nam'd me Autolycus; who, being, I as am, litter'd under + Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With + die and drab I purchas'd this caparison; and my revenue is the + silly-cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway; + beating and hanging are terrors to me; for the life to come, I + sleep out the thought of it. A prize! a prize! + + Enter CLOWN + + CLOWN. Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod yields pound + and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn, what comes the wool to? + AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] If the springe hold, the cock's mine. + CLOWN. I cannot do 't without counters. Let me see: what am I to + buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound of sugar, five + pound of currants, rice- what will this sister of mine do with + rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she + lays it on. She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the + shearers- three-man song-men all, and very good ones; but they + are most of them means and bases; but one Puritan amongst them, + and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must have saffron to colour + the warden pies; mace; dates- none, that's out of my note; + nutmegs, seven; race or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four + pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o' th' sun. + AUTOLYCUS. [Grovelling on the ground] O that ever I was born! + CLOWN. I' th' name of me! + AUTOLYCUS. O, help me, help me! Pluck but off these rags; and then, + death, death! + CLOWN. Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on + thee, rather than have these off. + AUTOLYCUS. O sir, the loathsomeness of them offend me more than the + stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions. + CLOWN. Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great + matter. + AUTOLYCUS. I am robb'd, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en + from me, and these detestable things put upon me. + CLOWN. What, by a horseman or a footman? + AUTOLYCUS. A footman, sweet sir, a footman. + CLOWN. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments he has left + with thee; if this be a horseman's coat, it hath seen very hot + service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee. Come, lend me thy + hand. [Helping him up] + AUTOLYCUS. O, good sir, tenderly, O! + CLOWN. Alas, poor soul! + AUTOLYCUS. O, good sir, softly, good sir; I fear, sir, my shoulder + blade is out. + CLOWN. How now! Canst stand? + AUTOLYCUS. Softly, dear sir [Picks his pocket]; good sir, softly. + You ha' done me a charitable office. + CLOWN. Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee. + AUTOLYCUS. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir. I have a + kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was + going; I shall there have money or anything I want. Offer me no + money, I pray you; that kills my heart. + CLOWN. What manner of fellow was he that robb'd you? + AUTOLYCUS. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with + troll-my-dames; I knew him once a servant of the Prince. I cannot + tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was + certainly whipt out of the court. + CLOWN. His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipt out of the + court. They cherish it to make it stay there; and yet it will no + more but abide. + AUTOLYCUS. Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well; he hath + been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then + he compass'd a motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's + wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having + flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue. + Some call him Autolycus. + CLOWN. Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig! He haunts wakes, + fairs, and bear-baitings. + AUTOLYCUS. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that put + me into this apparel. + CLOWN. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia; if you had but + look'd big and spit at him, he'd have run. + AUTOLYCUS. I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter; I am false + of heart that way, and that he knew, I warrant him. + CLOWN. How do you now? + AUTOLYCUS. Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and walk. + I will even take my leave of you and pace softly towards my + kinsman's. + CLOWN. Shall I bring thee on the way? + AUTOLYCUS. No, good-fac'd sir; no, sweet sir. + CLOWN. Then fare thee well. I must go buy spices for our + sheep-shearing. + AUTOLYCUS. Prosper you, sweet sir! Exit CLOWN + Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with + you at your sheep-shearing too. If I make not this cheat bring + out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unroll'd, + and my name put in the book of virtue! + [Sings] + Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, + And merrily hent the stile-a; + A merry heart goes all the day, + Your sad tires in a mile-a. Exit + + + + +SCENE IV. +Bohemia. The SHEPHERD'S cottage + +Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA + + FLORIZEL. These your unusual weeds to each part of you + Do give a life- no shepherdess, but Flora + Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing + Is as a meeting of the petty gods, + And you the Queen on't. + PERDITA. Sir, my gracious lord, + To chide at your extremes it not becomes me- + O, pardon that I name them! Your high self, + The gracious mark o' th' land, you have obscur'd + With a swain's wearing; and me, poor lowly maid, + Most goddess-like prank'd up. But that our feasts + In every mess have folly, and the feeders + Digest it with a custom, I should blush + To see you so attir'd; swoon, I think, + To show myself a glass. + FLORIZEL. I bless the time + When my good falcon made her flight across + Thy father's ground. + PERDITA. Now Jove afford you cause! + To me the difference forges dread; your greatness + Hath not been us'd to fear. Even now I tremble + To think your father, by some accident, + Should pass this way, as you did. O, the Fates! + How would he look to see his work, so noble, + Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how + Should I, in these my borrowed flaunts, behold + The sternness of his presence? + FLORIZEL. Apprehend + Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, + Humbling their deities to love, have taken + The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter + Became a bull and bellow'd; the green Neptune + A ram and bleated; and the fire-rob'd god, + Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, + As I seem now. Their transformations + Were never for a piece of beauty rarer, + Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires + Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts + Burn hotter than my faith. + PERDITA. O, but, sir, + Your resolution cannot hold when 'tis + Oppos'd, as it must be, by th' pow'r of the King. + One of these two must be necessities, + Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose, + Or I my life. + FLORIZEL. Thou dearest Perdita, + With these forc'd thoughts, I prithee, darken not + The mirth o' th' feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair, + Or not my father's; for I cannot be + Mine own, nor anything to any, if + I be not thine. To this I am most constant, + Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle; + Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing + That you behold the while. Your guests are coming. + Lift up your countenance, as it were the day + Of celebration of that nuptial which + We two have sworn shall come. + PERDITA. O Lady Fortune, + Stand you auspicious! + FLORIZEL. See, your guests approach. + Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, + And let's be red with mirth. + + Enter SHEPHERD, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO, disguised; + CLOWN, MOPSA, DORCAS, with OTHERS + + SHEPHERD. Fie, daughter! When my old wife liv'd, upon + This day she was both pantler, butler, cook; + Both dame and servant; welcom'd all; serv'd all; + Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here + At upper end o' th' table, now i' th' middle; + On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire + With labour, and the thing she took to quench it + She would to each one sip. You are retired, + As if you were a feasted one, and not + The hostess of the meeting. Pray you bid + These unknown friends to's welcome, for it is + A way to make us better friends, more known. + Come, quench your blushes, and present yourself + That which you are, Mistress o' th' Feast. Come on, + And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, + As your good flock shall prosper. + PERDITA. [To POLIXENES] Sir, welcome. + It is my father's will I should take on me + The hostess-ship o' th' day. [To CAMILLO] + You're welcome, sir. + Give me those flow'rs there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs, + For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep + Seeming and savour all the winter long. + Grace and remembrance be to you both! + And welcome to our shearing. + POLIXENES. Shepherdess- + A fair one are you- well you fit our ages + With flow'rs of winter. + PERDITA. Sir, the year growing ancient, + Not yet on summer's death nor on the birth + Of trembling winter, the fairest flow'rs o' th' season + Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors, + Which some call nature's bastards. Of that kind + Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not + To get slips of them. + POLIXENES. Wherefore, gentle maiden, + Do you neglect them? + PERDITA. For I have heard it said + There is an art which in their piedness shares + With great creating nature. + POLIXENES. Say there be; + Yet nature is made better by no mean + But nature makes that mean; so over that art + Which you say adds to nature, is an art + That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry + A gentler scion to the wildest stock, + And make conceive a bark of baser kind + By bud of nobler race. This is an art + Which does mend nature- change it rather; but + The art itself is nature. + PERDITA. So it is. + POLIXENES. Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, + And do not call them bastards. + PERDITA. I'll not put + The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; + No more than were I painted I would wish + This youth should say 'twere well, and only therefore + Desire to breed by me. Here's flow'rs for you: + Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; + The marigold, that goes to bed wi' th' sun, + And with him rises weeping; these are flow'rs + Of middle summer, and I think they are given + To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome. + CAMILLO. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, + And only live by gazing. + PERDITA. Out, alas! + You'd be so lean that blasts of January + Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, + I would I had some flow'rs o' th' spring that might + Become your time of day- and yours, and yours, + That wear upon your virgin branches yet + Your maidenheads growing. O Proserpina, + From the flowers now that, frighted, thou let'st fall + From Dis's waggon!- daffodils, + That come before the swallow dares, and take + The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim + But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes + Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, + That die unmarried ere they can behold + Bright Phoebus in his strength- a malady + Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and + The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds, + The flow'r-de-luce being one. O, these I lack + To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend + To strew him o'er and o'er! + FLORIZEL. What, like a corse? + PERDITA. No; like a bank for love to lie and play on; + Not like a corse; or if- not to be buried, + But quick, and in mine arms. Come, take your flow'rs. + Methinks I play as I have seen them do + In Whitsun pastorals. Sure, this robe of mine + Does change my disposition. + FLORIZEL. What you do + Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, + I'd have you do it ever. When you sing, + I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms; + Pray so; and, for the ord'ring your affairs, + To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you + A wave o' th' sea, that you might ever do + Nothing but that; move still, still so, + And own no other function. Each your doing, + So singular in each particular, + Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, + That all your acts are queens. + PERDITA. O Doricles, + Your praises are too large. But that your youth, + And the true blood which peeps fairly through't, + Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd, + With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, + You woo'd me the false way. + FLORIZEL. I think you have + As little skill to fear as I have purpose + To put you to't. But, come; our dance, I pray. + Your hand, my Perdita; so turtles pair + That never mean to part. + PERDITA. I'll swear for 'em. + POLIXENES. This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever + Ran on the green-sward; nothing she does or seems + But smacks of something greater than herself, + Too noble for this place. + CAMILLO. He tells her something + That makes her blood look out. Good sooth, she is + The queen of curds and cream. + CLOWN. Come on, strike up. + DORCAS. Mopsa must be your mistress; marry, garlic, + To mend her kissing with! + MOPSA. Now, in good time! + CLOWN. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners. + Come, strike up. [Music] + + Here a dance Of SHEPHERDS and SHEPHERDESSES + + POLIXENES. Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this + Which dances with your daughter? + SHEPHERD. They call him Doricles, and boasts himself + To have a worthy feeding; but I have it + Upon his own report, and I believe it: + He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter; + I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon + Upon the water as he'll stand and read, + As 'twere my daughter's eyes; and, to be plain, + I think there is not half a kiss to choose + Who loves another best. + POLIXENES. She dances featly. + SHEPHERD. So she does any thing; though I report it + That should be silent. If young Doricles + Do light upon her, she shall bring him that + Which he not dreams of. + + Enter a SERVANT + + SERVANT. O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the door, you + would never dance again after a tabor and pipe; no, the bagpipe + could not move you. He sings several tunes faster than you'll + tell money; he utters them as he had eaten ballads, and all men's + ears grew to his tunes. + CLOWN. He could never come better; he shall come in. I love a + ballad but even too well, if it be doleful matter merrily set + down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably. + SERVANT. He hath songs for man or woman of all sizes; no milliner + can so fit his customers with gloves. He has the prettiest + love-songs for maids; so without bawdry, which is strange; with + such delicate burdens of dildos and fadings, 'jump her and thump + her'; and where some stretch-mouth'd rascal would, as it were, + mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the + maid to answer 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man'- puts him off, + slights him, with 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man.' + POLIXENES. This is a brave fellow. + CLOWN. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow. + Has he any unbraided wares? + SERVANT. He hath ribbons of all the colours i' th' rainbow; points, + more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though + they come to him by th' gross; inkles, caddisses, cambrics, + lawns. Why he sings 'em over as they were gods or goddesses; you + would think a smock were she-angel, he so chants to the + sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't. + CLOWN. Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing. + PERDITA. Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in's tunes. + Exit SERVANT + CLOWN. You have of these pedlars that have more in them than you'd + think, sister. + PERDITA. Ay, good brother, or go about to think. + + Enter AUTOLYCUS, Singing + + Lawn as white as driven snow; + Cypress black as e'er was crow; + Gloves as sweet as damask roses; + Masks for faces and for noses; + Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, + Perfume for a lady's chamber; + Golden quoifs and stomachers, + For my lads to give their dears; + Pins and poking-sticks of steel- + What maids lack from head to heel. + Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; + Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry. + Come, buy. + + CLOWN. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no + money of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the + bondage of certain ribbons and gloves. + MOPSA. I was promis'd them against the feast; but they come not too + late now. + DORCAS. He hath promis'd you more than that, or there be liars. + MOPSA. He hath paid you all he promis'd you. May be he has paid you + more, which will shame you to give him again. + CLOWN. Is there no manners left among maids? Will they wear their + plackets where they should bear their faces? Is there not + milking-time, when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle + off these secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all our + guests? 'Tis well they are whisp'ring. Clammer your tongues, and + not a word more. + MOPSA. I have done. Come, you promis'd me a tawdry-lace, and a pair + of sweet gloves. + CLOWN. Have I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the way, and lost + all my money? + AUTOLYCUS. And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it + behoves men to be wary. + CLOWN. Fear not thou, man; thou shalt lose nothing here. + AUTOLYCUS. I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of + charge. + CLOWN. What hast here? Ballads? + MOPSA. Pray now, buy some. I love a ballad in print a-life, for + then we are sure they are true. + AUTOLYCUS. Here's one to a very doleful tune: how a usurer's wife + was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden, and how she + long'd to eat adders' heads and toads carbonado'd. + MOPSA. Is it true, think you? + AUTOLYCUS. Very true, and but a month old. + DORCAS. Bless me from marrying a usurer! + AUTOLYCUS. Here's the midwife's name to't, one Mistress Taleporter, + and five or six honest wives that were present. Why should I + carry lies abroad? + MOPSA. Pray you now, buy it. + CLOWN. Come on, lay it by; and let's first see moe ballads; we'll + buy the other things anon. + AUTOLYCUS. Here's another ballad, of a fish that appeared upon the + coast on Wednesday the fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom + above water, and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of + maids. It was thought she was a woman, and was turn'd into a cold + fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that lov'd her. + The ballad is very pitiful, and as true. + DORCAS. Is it true too, think you? + AUTOLYCUS. Five justices' hands at it; and witnesses more than my + pack will hold. + CLOWN. Lay it by too. Another. + AUTOLYCUS. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one. + MOPSA. Let's have some merry ones. + AUTOLYCUS. Why, this is a passing merry one, and goes to the tune + of 'Two maids wooing a man.' There's scarce a maid westward but + she sings it; 'tis in request, I can tell you. + MOPSA. can both sing it. If thou'lt bear a part, thou shalt hear; + 'tis in three parts. + DORCAS. We had the tune on't a month ago. + AUTOLYCUS. I can bear my part; you must know 'tis my occupation. + Have at it with you. + + SONG + + AUTOLYCUS. Get you hence, for I must go + Where it fits not you to know. + DORCAS. Whither? + MOPSA. O, whither? + DORCAS. Whither? + MOPSA. It becomes thy oath full well + Thou to me thy secrets tell. + DORCAS. Me too! Let me go thither + MOPSA. Or thou goest to th' grange or mill. + DORCAS. If to either, thou dost ill. + AUTOLYCUS. Neither. + DORCAS. What, neither? + AUTOLYCUS. Neither. + DORCAS. Thou hast sworn my love to be. + MOPSA. Thou hast sworn it more to me. + Then whither goest? Say, whither? + + CLOWN. We'll have this song out anon by ourselves; my father and + the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll not trouble them. Come, + bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both. + Pedlar, let's have the first choice. Follow me, girls. + Exit with DORCAS and MOPSA + AUTOLYCUS. And you shall pay well for 'em. + Exit AUTOLYCUS, Singing + + Will you buy any tape, + Or lace for your cape, + My dainty duck, my dear-a? + Any silk, any thread, + Any toys for your head, + Of the new'st and fin'st, fin'st wear-a? + Come to the pedlar; + Money's a meddler + That doth utter all men's ware-a. + + Re-enter SERVANT + + SERVANT. Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three + neat-herds, three swineherds, that have made themselves all men + of hair; they call themselves Saltiers, and they have dance which + the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are not + in't; but they themselves are o' th' mind, if it be not too rough + for some that know little but bowling, it will please + plentifully. + SHEPHERD. Away! We'll none on't; here has been too much homely + foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you. + POLIXENES. You weary those that refresh us. Pray, let's see these + four threes of herdsmen. + SERVANT. One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danc'd + before the King; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve + foot and a half by th' squier. + SHEPHERD. Leave your prating; since these good men are pleas'd, let + them come in; but quickly now. + SERVANT. Why, they stay at door, sir. Exit + + Here a dance of twelve SATYRS + + POLIXENES. [To SHEPHERD] O, father, you'll know more of that + hereafter. + [To CAMILLO] Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them. + He's simple and tells much. [To FLORIZEL] How now, fair + shepherd! + Your heart is full of something that does take + Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young + And handed love as you do, I was wont + To load my she with knacks; I would have ransack'd + The pedlar's silken treasury and have pour'd it + To her acceptance: you have let him go + And nothing marted with him. If your lass + Interpretation should abuse and call this + Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited + For a reply, at least if you make a care + Of happy holding her. + FLORIZEL. Old sir, I know + She prizes not such trifles as these are. + The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd + Up in my heart, which I have given already, + But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my life + Before this ancient sir, whom, it should seem, + Hath sometime lov'd. I take thy hand- this hand, + As soft as dove's down and as white as it, + Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow that's bolted + By th' northern blasts twice o'er. + POLIXENES. What follows this? + How prettily the young swain seems to wash + The hand was fair before! I have put you out. + But to your protestation; let me hear + What you profess. + FLORIZEL. Do, and be witness to't. + POLIXENES. And this my neighbour too? + FLORIZEL. And he, and more + Than he, and men- the earth, the heavens, and all: + That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, + Thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth + That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge + More than was ever man's, I would not prize them + Without her love; for her employ them all; + Commend them and condemn them to her service + Or to their own perdition. + POLIXENES. Fairly offer'd. + CAMILLO. This shows a sound affection. + SHEPHERD. But, my daughter, + Say you the like to him? + PERDITA. I cannot speak + So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better. + By th' pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out + The purity of his. + SHEPHERD. Take hands, a bargain! + And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't: + I give my daughter to him, and will make + Her portion equal his. + FLORIZEL. O, that must be + I' th' virtue of your daughter. One being dead, + I shall have more than you can dream of yet; + Enough then for your wonder. But come on, + Contract us fore these witnesses. + SHEPHERD. Come, your hand; + And, daughter, yours. + POLIXENES. Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you; + Have you a father? + FLORIZEL. I have, but what of him? + POLIXENES. Knows he of this? + FLORIZEL. He neither does nor shall. + POLIXENES. Methinks a father + Is at the nuptial of his son a guest + That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more, + Is not your father grown incapable + Of reasonable affairs? Is he not stupid + With age and alt'ring rheums? Can he speak, hear, + Know man from man, dispute his own estate? + Lies he not bed-rid, and again does nothing + But what he did being childish? + FLORIZEL. No, good sir; + He has his health, and ampler strength indeed + Than most have of his age. + POLIXENES. By my white beard, + You offer him, if this be so, a wrong + Something unfilial. Reason my son + Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason + The father- all whose joy is nothing else + But fair posterity- should hold some counsel + In such a business. + FLORIZEL. I yield all this; + But, for some other reasons, my grave sir, + Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint + My father of this business. + POLIXENES. Let him know't. + FLORIZEL. He shall not. + POLIXENES. Prithee let him. + FLORIZEL. No, he must not. + SHEPHERD. Let him, my son; he shall not need to grieve + At knowing of thy choice. + FLORIZEL. Come, come, he must not. + Mark our contract. + POLIXENES. [Discovering himself] Mark your divorce, young sir, + Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base + To be acknowledg'd- thou a sceptre's heir, + That thus affects a sheep-hook! Thou, old traitor, + I am sorry that by hanging thee I can but + Shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece + Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know + The royal fool thou cop'st with- + SHEPHERD. O, my heart! + POLIXENES. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers and made + More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy, + If I may ever know thou dost but sigh + That thou no more shalt see this knack- as never + I mean thou shalt- we'll bar thee from succession; + Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, + Farre than Deucalion off. Mark thou my words. + Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time, + Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee + From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment, + Worthy enough a herdsman- yea, him too + That makes himself, but for our honour therein, + Unworthy thee- if ever henceforth thou + These rural latches to his entrance open, + Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, + I will devise a death as cruel for thee + As thou art tender to't. Exit + PERDITA. Even here undone! + I was not much afeard; for once or twice + I was about to speak and tell him plainly + The self-same sun that shines upon his court + Hides not his visage from our cottage, but + Looks on alike. [To FLORIZEL] Will't please you, sir, be gone? + I told you what would come of this. Beseech you, + Of your own state take care. This dream of mine- + Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther, + But milk my ewes and weep. + CAMILLO. Why, how now, father! + Speak ere thou diest. + SHEPHERD. I cannot speak nor think, + Nor dare to know that which I know. [To FLORIZEL] O sir, + You have undone a man of fourscore-three + That thought to fill his grave in quiet, yea, + To die upon the bed my father died, + To lie close by his honest bones; but now + Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me + Where no priest shovels in dust. [To PERDITA] O cursed wretch, + That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst adventure + To mingle faith with him!- Undone, undone! + If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd + To die when I desire. Exit + FLORIZEL. Why look you so upon me? + I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd, + But nothing alt'red. What I was, I am: + More straining on for plucking back; not following + My leash unwillingly. + CAMILLO. Gracious, my lord, + You know your father's temper. At this time + He will allow no speech- which I do guess + You do not purpose to him- and as hardly + Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear; + Then, till the fury of his Highness settle, + Come not before him. + FLORIZEL. I not purpose it. + I think Camillo? + CAMILLO. Even he, my lord. + PERDITA. How often have I told you 'twould be thus! + How often said my dignity would last + But till 'twere known! + FLORIZEL. It cannot fail but by + The violation of my faith; and then + Let nature crush the sides o' th' earth together + And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks. + From my succession wipe me, father; I + Am heir to my affection. + CAMILLO. Be advis'd. + FLORIZEL. I am- and by my fancy; if my reason + Will thereto be obedient, I have reason; + If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness, + Do bid it welcome. + CAMILLO. This is desperate, sir. + FLORIZEL. So call it; but it does fulfil my vow: + I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, + Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may + Be thereat glean'd, for all the sun sees or + The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hides + In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath + To this my fair belov'd. Therefore, I pray you, + As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend, + When he shall miss me- as, in faith, I mean not + To see him any more- cast your good counsels + Upon his passion. Let myself and Fortune + Tug for the time to come. This you may know, + And so deliver: I am put to sea + With her who here I cannot hold on shore. + And most opportune to her need I have + A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd + For this design. What course I mean to hold + Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor + Concern me the reporting. + CAMILLO. O my lord, + I would your spirit were easier for advice. + Or stronger for your need. + FLORIZEL. Hark, Perdita. [Takes her aside] + [To CAMILLO] I'll hear you by and by. + CAMILLO. He's irremovable, + Resolv'd for flight. Now were I happy if + His going I could frame to serve my turn, + Save him from danger, do him love and honour, + Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia + And that unhappy king, my master, whom + I so much thirst to see. + FLORIZEL. Now, good Camillo, + I am so fraught with curious business that + I leave out ceremony. + CAMILLO. Sir, I think + You have heard of my poor services i' th' love + That I have borne your father? + FLORIZEL. Very nobly + Have you deserv'd. It is my father's music + To speak your deeds; not little of his care + To have them recompens'd as thought on. + CAMILLO. Well, my lord, + If you may please to think I love the King, + And through him what's nearest to him, which is + Your gracious self, embrace but my direction. + If your more ponderous and settled project + May suffer alteration, on mine honour, + I'll point you where you shall have such receiving + As shall become your Highness; where you may + Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see, + There's no disjunction to be made but by, + As heavens forfend! your ruin- marry her; + And with my best endeavours in your absence + Your discontenting father strive to qualify, + And bring him up to liking. + FLORIZEL. How, Camillo, + May this, almost a miracle, be done? + That I may call thee something more than man, + And after that trust to thee. + CAMILLO. Have you thought on + A place whereto you'll go? + FLORIZEL. Not any yet; + But as th' unthought-on accident is guilty + To what we wildly do, so we profess + Ourselves to be the slaves of chance and flies + Of every wind that blows. + CAMILLO. Then list to me. + This follows, if you will not change your purpose + But undergo this flight: make for Sicilia, + And there present yourself and your fair princess- + For so, I see, she must be- fore Leontes. + She shall be habited as it becomes + The partner of your bed. Methinks I see + Leontes opening his free arms and weeping + His welcomes forth; asks thee there 'Son, forgiveness!' + As 'twere i' th' father's person; kisses the hands + Of your fresh princess; o'er and o'er divides him + 'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness- th' one + He chides to hell, and bids the other grow + Faster than thought or time. + FLORIZEL. Worthy Camillo, + What colour for my visitation shall I + Hold up before him? + CAMILLO. Sent by the King your father + To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir, + The manner of your bearing towards him, with + What you as from your father shall deliver, + Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down; + The which shall point you forth at every sitting + What you must say, that he shall not perceive + But that you have your father's bosom there + And speak his very heart. + FLORIZEL. I am bound to you. + There is some sap in this. + CAMILLO. A course more promising + Than a wild dedication of yourselves + To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores, most certain + To miseries enough; no hope to help you, + But as you shake off one to take another; + Nothing so certain as your anchors, who + Do their best office if they can but stay you + Where you'll be loath to be. Besides, you know + Prosperity's the very bond of love, + Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together + Affliction alters. + PERDITA. One of these is true: + I think affliction may subdue the cheek, + But not take in the mind. + CAMILLO. Yea, say you so? + There shall not at your father's house these seven years + Be born another such. + FLORIZEL. My good Camillo, + She is as forward of her breeding as + She is i' th' rear o' our birth. + CAMILLO. I cannot say 'tis pity + She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress + To most that teach. + PERDITA. Your pardon, sir; for this + I'll blush you thanks. + FLORIZEL. My prettiest Perdita! + But, O, the thorns we stand upon! Camillo- + Preserver of my father, now of me; + The medicine of our house- how shall we do? + We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son; + Nor shall appear in Sicilia. + CAMILLO. My lord, + Fear none of this. I think you know my fortunes + Do all lie there. It shall be so my care + To have you royally appointed as if + The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, + That you may know you shall not want- one word. + [They talk aside] + + Re-enter AUTOLYCUS + + AUTOLYCUS. Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn + brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold all my trumpery; + not a counterfeit stone, not a ribbon, glass, pomander, brooch, + table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, + horn-ring, to keep my pack from fasting. They throng who should + buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed and brought a + benediction to the buyer; by which means I saw whose purse was + best in picture; and what I saw, to my good use I rememb'red. My + clown, who wants but something to be a reasonable man, grew so in + love with the wenches' song that he would not stir his pettitoes + till he had both tune and words, which so drew the rest of the + herd to me that all their other senses stuck in ears. You might + have pinch'd a placket, it was senseless; 'twas nothing to geld a + codpiece of a purse; I would have fil'd keys off that hung in + chains. No hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song, and admiring + the nothing of it. So that in this time of lethargy I pick'd and + cut most of their festival purses; and had not the old man come + in with whoobub against his daughter and the King's son and + scar'd my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in + the whole army. + + CAMILLO, FLORIZEL, and PERDITA come forward + + CAMILLO. Nay, but my letters, by this means being there + So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. + FLORIZEL. And those that you'll procure from King Leontes? + CAMILLO. Shall satisfy your father. + PERDITA. Happy be you! + All that you speak shows fair. + CAMILLO. [seeing AUTOLYCUS] Who have we here? + We'll make an instrument of this; omit + Nothing may give us aid. + AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] If they have overheard me now- why, hanging. + CAMILLO. How now, good fellow! Why shak'st thou so? + Fear not, man; here's no harm intended to thee. + AUTOLYCUS. I am a poor fellow, sir. + CAMILLO. Why, be so still; here's nobody will steal that from thee. + Yet for the outside of thy poverty we must make an exchange; + therefore discase thee instantly- thou must think there's a + necessity in't- and change garments with this gentleman. Though + the pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, there's + some boot. [Giving money] + AUTOLYCUS. I am a poor fellow, sir. [Aside] I know ye well + enough. + CAMILLO. Nay, prithee dispatch. The gentleman is half flay'd + already. + AUTOLYCUS. Are you in camest, sir? [Aside] I smell the trick + on't. + FLORIZEL. Dispatch, I prithee. + AUTOLYCUS. Indeed, I have had earnest; but I cannot with conscience + take it. + CAMILLO. Unbuckle, unbuckle. + + FLORIZEL and AUTOLYCUS exchange garments + + Fortunate mistress- let my prophecy + Come home to ye!- you must retire yourself + Into some covert; take your sweetheart's hat + And pluck it o'er your brows, muffle your face, + Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken + The truth of your own seeming, that you may- + For I do fear eyes over- to shipboard + Get undescried. + PERDITA. I see the play so lies + That I must bear a part. + CAMILLO. No remedy. + Have you done there? + FLORIZEL. Should I now meet my father, + He would not call me son. + CAMILLO. Nay, you shall have no hat. + [Giving it to PERDITA] + Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend. + AUTOLYCUS. Adieu, sir. + FLORIZEL. O Perdita, what have we twain forgot! + Pray you a word. [They converse apart] + CAMILLO. [Aside] What I do next shall be to tell the King + Of this escape, and whither they are bound; + Wherein my hope is I shall so prevail + To force him after; in whose company + I shall re-view Sicilia, for whose sight + I have a woman's longing. + FLORIZEL. Fortune speed us! + Thus we set on, Camillo, to th' sea-side. + CAMILLO. The swifter speed the better. + Exeunt FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and CAMILLO + AUTOLYCUS. I understand the business, I hear it. To have an open + ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a + cut-purse; a good nose is requisite also, to smell out work for + th' other senses. I see this is the time that the unjust man doth + thrive. What an exchange had this been without boot! What a boot + is here with this exchange! Sure, the gods do this year connive + at us, and we may do anything extempore. The Prince himself is + about a piece of iniquity- stealing away from his father with his + clog at his heels. If I thought it were a piece of honesty to + acquaint the King withal, I would not do't. I hold it the more + knavery to conceal it; and therein am I constant to my + profession. + + Re-enter CLOWN and SHEPHERD + + Aside, aside- here is more matter for a hot brain. Every lane's + end, every shop, church, session, hanging, yields a careful man + work. + CLOWN. See, see; what a man you are now! There is no other way but + to tell the King she's a changeling and none of your flesh and + blood. + SHEPHERD. Nay, but hear me. + CLOWN. Nay- but hear me. + SHEPHERD. Go to, then. + CLOWN. She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood + has not offended the King; and so your flesh and blood is not to + be punish'd by him. Show those things you found about her, those + secret things- all but what she has with her. This being done, + let the law go whistle; I warrant you. + SHEPHERD. I will tell the King all, every word- yea, and his son's + pranks too; who, I may say, is no honest man, neither to his + father nor to me, to go about to make me the King's + brother-in-law. + CLOWN. Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you could have + been to him; and then your blood had been the dearer by I know + how much an ounce. + AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] Very wisely, puppies! + SHEPHERD. Well, let us to the King. There is that in this fardel + will make him scratch his beard. + AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] I know not what impediment this complaint may + be to the flight of my master. + CLOWN. Pray heartily he be at palace. + AUTOLYCUS. [Aside] Though I am not naturally honest, I am so + sometimes by chance. Let me pocket up my pedlar's excrement. + [Takes off his false beard] How now, rustics! Whither are you + bound? + SHEPHERD. To th' palace, an it like your worship. + AUTOLYCUS. Your affairs there, what, with whom, the condition of + that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your names, your ages, + of what having, breeding, and anything that is fitting to be + known- discover. + CLOWN. We are but plain fellows, sir. + AUTOLYCUS. A lie: you are rough and hairy. Let me have no lying; it + becomes none but tradesmen, and they often give us soldiers the + lie; but we pay them for it with stamped coin, not stabbing + steel; therefore they do not give us the lie. + CLOWN. Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had not + taken yourself with the manner. + SHEPHERD. Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir? + AUTOLYCUS. Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seest thou + not the air of the court in these enfoldings? Hath not my gait in + it the measure of the court? Receives not thy nose court-odour + from me? Reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt? Think'st + thou, for that I insinuate, that toaze from thee thy business, I + am therefore no courtier? I am courtier cap-a-pe, and one that + will either push on or pluck back thy business there; whereupon I + command the to open thy affair. + SHEPHERD. My business, sir, is to the King. + AUTOLYCUS. What advocate hast thou to him? + SHEPHERD. I know not, an't like you. + CLOWN. Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant; say you have none. + SHEPHERD. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen. + AUTOLYCUS. How blessed are we that are not simple men! + Yet nature might have made me as these are, + Therefore I will not disdain. + CLOWN. This cannot be but a great courtier. + SHEPHERD. His garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely. + CLOWN. He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical. + A great man, I'll warrant; I know by the picking on's teeth. + AUTOLYCUS. The fardel there? What's i' th' fardel? Wherefore that + box? + SHEPHERD. Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box which + none must know but the King; and which he shall know within this + hour, if I may come to th' speech of him. + AUTOLYCUS. Age, thou hast lost thy labour. + SHEPHERD. Why, Sir? + AUTOLYCUS. The King is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a new + ship to purge melancholy and air himself; for, if thou be'st + capable of things serious, thou must know the King is full of + grief. + SHEPHERD. So 'tis said, sir- about his son, that should have + married a shepherd's daughter. + AUTOLYCUS. If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly; the + curses he shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break the + back of man, the heart of monster. + CLOWN. Think you so, sir? + AUTOLYCUS. Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy and + vengeance bitter; but those that are germane to him, though + remov'd fifty times, shall all come under the hangman- which, + though it be great pity, yet it is necessary. An old + sheep-whistling rogue, a ram-tender, to offer to have his + daughter come into grace! Some say he shall be ston'd; but that + death is too soft for him, say I. Draw our throne into a + sheep-cote!- all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy. + CLOWN. Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear, an't like you, + sir? + AUTOLYCUS. He has a son- who shall be flay'd alive; then 'nointed + over with honey, set on the head of a wasp's nest; then stand + till he be three quarters and a dram dead; then recover'd again + with aqua-vitae or some other hot infusion; then, raw as he is, + and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, shall he be set + against a brick wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon + him, where he is to behold him with flies blown to death. But + what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be + smil'd at, their offences being so capital? Tell me, for you seem + to be honest plain men, what you have to the King. Being + something gently consider'd, I'll bring you where he is aboard, + tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalfs; + and if it be in man besides the King to effect your suits, here + is man shall do it. + CLOWN. He seems to be of great authority. Close with him, give him + gold; and though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led + by the nose with gold. Show the inside of your purse to the + outside of his hand, and no more ado. Remember- ston'd and flay'd + alive. + SHEPHERD. An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for us, + here is that gold I have. I'll make it as much more, and leave + this young man in pawn till I bring it you. + AUTOLYCUS. After I have done what I promised? + SHEPHERD. Ay, sir. + AUTOLYCUS. Well, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this + business? + CLOWN. In some sort, sir; but though my case be a pitiful one, I + hope I shall not be flay'd out of it. + AUTOLYCUS. O, that's the case of the shepherd's son! Hang him, + he'll be made an example. + CLOWN. Comfort, good comfort! We must to the King and show our + strange sights. He must know 'tis none of your daughter nor my + sister; we are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as this + old man does, when the business is performed; and remain, as he + says, your pawn till it be brought you. + AUTOLYCUS. I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side; go on + the right-hand; I will but look upon the hedge, and follow you. + CLOWN. We are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest. + SHEPHERD. Let's before, as he bids us. He was provided to do us + good. Exeunt SHEPHERD and CLOWN + AUTOLYCUS. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not + suffer me: she drops booties in my mouth. I am courted now with a + double occasion- gold, and a means to do the Prince my master + good; which who knows how that may turn back to my advancement? I + will bring these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him. If he + think it fit to shore them again, and that the complaint they + have to the King concerns him nothing, let him call me rogue for + being so far officious; for I am proof against that title, and + what shame else belongs to't. To him will I present them. There + may be matter in it. Exit + + + + +<> + + + +ACT V. SCENE I. +Sicilia. The palace of LEONTES + +Enter LEONTES, CLEOMENES, DION, PAULINA, and OTHERS + + CLEOMENES. Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd + A saint-like sorrow. No fault could you make + Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid down + More penitence than done trespass. At the last, + Do as the heavens have done: forget your evil; + With them forgive yourself. + LEONTES. Whilst I remember + Her and her virtues, I cannot forget + My blemishes in them, and so still think of + The wrong I did myself; which was so much + That heirless it hath made my kingdom, and + Destroy'd the sweet'st companion that e'er man + Bred his hopes out of. + PAULINA. True, too true, my lord. + If, one by one, you wedded all the world, + Or from the all that are took something good + To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd + Would be unparallel'd. + LEONTES. I think so. Kill'd! + She I kill'd! I did so; but thou strik'st me + Sorely, to say I did. It is as bitter + Upon thy tongue as in my thought. Now, good now, + Say so but seldom. + CLEOMENES. Not at all, good lady. + You might have spoken a thousand things that would + Have done the time more benefit, and grac'd + Your kindness better. + PAULINA. You are one of those + Would have him wed again. + DION. If you would not so, + You pity not the state, nor the remembrance + Of his most sovereign name; consider little + What dangers, by his Highness' fail of issue, + May drop upon his kingdom and devour + Incertain lookers-on. What were more holy + Than to rejoice the former queen is well? + What holier than, for royalty's repair, + For present comfort, and for future good, + To bless the bed of majesty again + With a sweet fellow to't? + PAULINA. There is none worthy, + Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods + Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes; + For has not the divine Apollo said, + Is't not the tenour of his oracle, + That King Leontes shall not have an heir + Till his lost child be found? Which that it shall, + Is all as monstrous to our human reason + As my Antigonus to break his grave + And come again to me; who, on my life, + Did perish with the infant. 'Tis your counsel + My lord should to the heavens be contrary, + Oppose against their wills. [To LEONTES] Care not for issue; + The crown will find an heir. Great Alexander + Left his to th' worthiest; so his successor + Was like to be the best. + LEONTES. Good Paulina, + Who hast the memory of Hermione, + I know, in honour, O that ever I + Had squar'd me to thy counsel! Then, even now, + I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes, + Have taken treasure from her lips- + PAULINA. And left them + More rich for what they yielded. + LEONTES. Thou speak'st truth. + No more such wives; therefore, no wife. One worse, + And better us'd, would make her sainted spirit + Again possess her corpse, and on this stage, + Where we offend her now, appear soul-vex'd, + And begin 'Why to me'- + PAULINA. Had she such power, + She had just cause. + LEONTES. She had; and would incense me + To murder her I married. + PAULINA. I should so. + Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'd bid you mark + Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't + You chose her; then I'd shriek, that even your ears + Should rift to hear me; and the words that follow'd + Should be 'Remember mine.' + LEONTES. Stars, stars, + And all eyes else dead coals! Fear thou no wife; + I'll have no wife, Paulina. + PAULINA. Will you swear + Never to marry but by my free leave? + LEONTES. Never, Paulina; so be blest my spirit! + PAULINA. Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath. + CLEOMENES. You tempt him over-much. + PAULINA. Unless another, + As like Hermione as is her picture, + Affront his eye. + CLEOMENES. Good madam- + PAULINA. I have done. + Yet, if my lord will marry- if you will, sir, + No remedy but you will- give me the office + To choose you a queen. She shall not be so young + As was your former; but she shall be such + As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take joy + To see her in your arms. + LEONTES. My true Paulina, + We shall not marry till thou bid'st us. + PAULINA. That + Shall be when your first queen's again in breath; + Never till then. + + Enter a GENTLEMAN + + GENTLEMAN. One that gives out himself Prince Florizel, + Son of Polixenes, with his princess- she + The fairest I have yet beheld- desires access + To your high presence. + LEONTES. What with him? He comes not + Like to his father's greatness. His approach, + So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us + 'Tis not a visitation fram'd, but forc'd + By need and accident. What train? + GENTLEMAN. But few, + And those but mean. + LEONTES. His princess, say you, with him? + GENTLEMAN. Ay; the most peerless piece of earth, I think, + That e'er the sun shone bright on. + PAULINA. O Hermione, + As every present time doth boast itself + Above a better gone, so must thy grave + Give way to what's seen now! Sir, you yourself + Have said and writ so, but your writing now + Is colder than that theme: 'She had not been, + Nor was not to be equall'd.' Thus your verse + Flow'd with her beauty once; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd, + To say you have seen a better. + GENTLEMAN. Pardon, madam. + The one I have almost forgot- your pardon; + The other, when she has obtain'd your eye, + Will have your tongue too. This is a creature, + Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal + Of all professors else, make proselytes + Of who she but bid follow. + PAULINA. How! not women? + GENTLEMAN. Women will love her that she is a woman + More worth than any man; men, that she is + The rarest of all women. + LEONTES. Go, Cleomenes; + Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends, + Bring them to our embracement. Exeunt + Still, 'tis strange + He thus should steal upon us. + PAULINA. Had our prince, + Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair'd + Well with this lord; there was not full a month + Between their births. + LEONTES. Prithee no more; cease. Thou know'st + He dies to me again when talk'd of. Sure, + When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches + Will bring me to consider that which may + Unfurnish me of reason. + + Re-enter CLEOMENES, with FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and + ATTENDANTS + + They are come. + Your mother was most true to wedlock, Prince; + For she did print your royal father off, + Conceiving you. Were I but twenty-one, + Your father's image is so hit in you + His very air, that I should call you brother, + As I did him, and speak of something wildly + By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome! + And your fair princess- goddess! O, alas! + I lost a couple that 'twixt heaven and earth + Might thus have stood begetting wonder as + You, gracious couple, do. And then I lost- + All mine own folly- the society, + Amity too, of your brave father, whom, + Though bearing misery, I desire my life + Once more to look on him. + FLORIZEL. By his command + Have I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him + Give you all greetings that a king, at friend, + Can send his brother; and, but infirmity, + Which waits upon worn times, hath something seiz'd + His wish'd ability, he had himself + The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his + Measur'd, to look upon you; whom he loves, + He bade me say so, more than all the sceptres + And those that bear them living. + LEONTES. O my brother- + Good gentleman!- the wrongs I have done thee stir + Afresh within me; and these thy offices, + So rarely kind, are as interpreters + Of my behind-hand slackness! Welcome hither, + As is the spring to th' earth. And hath he too + Expos'd this paragon to th' fearful usage, + At least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune, + To greet a man not worth her pains, much less + Th' adventure of her person? + FLORIZEL. Good, my lord, + She came from Libya. + LEONTES. Where the warlike Smalus, + That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd and lov'd? + FLORIZEL. Most royal sir, from thence; from him whose daughter + His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her; thence, + A prosperous south-wind friendly, we have cross'd, + To execute the charge my father gave me + For visiting your Highness. My best train + I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd; + Who for Bohemia bend, to signify + Not only my success in Libya, sir, + But my arrival and my wife's in safety + Here where we are. + LEONTES. The blessed gods + Purge all infection from our air whilst you + Do climate here! You have a holy father, + A graceful gentleman, against whose person, + So sacred as it is, I have done sin, + For which the heavens, taking angry note, + Have left me issueless; and your father's blest, + As he from heaven merits it, with you, + Worthy his goodness. What might I have been, + Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on, + Such goodly things as you! + + Enter a LORD + + LORD. Most noble sir, + That which I shall report will bear no credit, + Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir, + Bohemia greets you from himself by me; + Desires you to attach his son, who has- + His dignity and duty both cast off- + Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with + A shepherd's daughter. + LEONTES. Where's Bohemia? Speak. + LORD. Here in your city; I now came from him. + I speak amazedly; and it becomes + My marvel and my message. To your court + Whiles he was hast'ning- in the chase, it seems, + Of this fair couple- meets he on the way + The father of this seeming lady and + Her brother, having both their country quitted + With this young prince. + FLORIZEL. Camillo has betray'd me; + Whose honour and whose honesty till now + Endur'd all weathers. + LORD. Lay't so to his charge; + He's with the King your father. + LEONTES. Who? Camillo? + LORD. Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now + Has these poor men in question. Never saw I + Wretches so quake. They kneel, they kiss the earth; + Forswear themselves as often as they speak. + Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them + With divers deaths in death. + PERDITA. O my poor father! + The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have + Our contract celebrated. + LEONTES. You are married? + FLORIZEL. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be; + The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first. + The odds for high and low's alike. + LEONTES. My lord, + Is this the daughter of a king? + FLORIZEL. She is, + When once she is my wife. + LEONTES. That 'once,' I see by your good father's speed, + Will come on very slowly. I am sorry, + Most sorry, you have broken from his liking + Where you were tied in duty; and as sorry + Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty, + That you might well enjoy her. + FLORIZEL. Dear, look up. + Though Fortune, visible an enemy, + Should chase us with my father, pow'r no jot + Hath she to change our loves. Beseech you, sir, + Remember since you ow'd no more to time + Than I do now. With thought of such affections, + Step forth mine advocate; at your request + My father will grant precious things as trifles. + LEONTES. Would he do so, I'd beg your precious mistress, + Which he counts but a trifle. + PAULINA. Sir, my liege, + Your eye hath too much youth in't. Not a month + Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes + Than what you look on now. + LEONTES. I thought of her + Even in these looks I made. [To FLORIZEL] But your petition + Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father. + Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires, + I am friend to them and you. Upon which errand + I now go toward him; therefore, follow me, + And mark what way I make. Come, good my lord. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE II. +Sicilia. Before the palace of LEONTES + +Enter AUTOLYCUS and a GENTLEMAN + + AUTOLYCUS. Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the + old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it; whereupon, after + a little amazedness, we were all commanded out of the chamber; + only this, methought I heard the shepherd say he found the child. + AUTOLYCUS. I would most gladly know the issue of it. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. I make a broken delivery of the business; but the + changes I perceived in the King and Camillo were very notes of + admiration. They seem'd almost, with staring on one another, to + tear the cases of their eyes; there was speech in their dumbness, + language in their very gesture; they look'd as they had heard of + a world ransom'd, or one destroyed. A notable passion of wonder + appeared in them; but the wisest beholder that knew no more but + seeing could not say if th' importance were joy or sorrow- but in + the extremity of the one it must needs be. + + Enter another GENTLEMAN + + Here comes a gentleman that happily knows more. The news, Rogero? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Nothing but bonfires. The oracle is fulfill'd: + the King's daughter is found. Such a deal of wonder is broken out + within this hour that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it. + + Enter another GENTLEMAN + + Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward; he can deliver you more. + How goes it now, sir? This news, which is call'd true, is so like + an old tale that the verity of it is in strong suspicion. Has the + King found his heir? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by + circumstance. That which you hear you'll swear you see, there is + such unity in the proofs. The mantle of Queen Hermione's; her + jewel about the neck of it; the letters of Antigonus found with + it, which they know to be his character; the majesty of the + creature in resemblance of the mother; the affection of nobleness + which nature shows above her breeding; and many other evidences- + proclaim her with all certainty to be the King's daughter. Did + you see the meeting of the two kings? + SECOND GENTLEMAN. No. + THIRD GENTLEMAN. Then you have lost a sight which was to be seen, + cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one joy crown + another, so and in such manner that it seem'd sorrow wept to take + leave of them; for their joy waded in tears. There was casting up + of eyes, holding up of hands, with countenance of such + distraction that they were to be known by garment, not by favour. + Our king, being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found + daughter, as if that joy were now become a loss, cries 'O, thy + mother, thy mother!' then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces + his son-in-law; then again worries he his daughter with clipping + her. Now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by like a + weather-bitten conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard of + such another encounter, which lames report to follow it and + undoes description to do it. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried + hence the child? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. Like an old tale still, which will have matter to + rehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear open: he was + torn to pieces with a bear. This avouches the shepherd's son, who + has not only his innocence, which seems much, to justify him, but + a handkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. What became of his bark and his followers? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. Wreck'd the same instant of their master's death, + and in the view of the shepherd; so that all the instruments + which aided to expose the child were even then lost when it was + found. But, O, the noble combat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was + fought in Paulina! She had one eye declin'd for the loss of her + husband, another elevated that the oracle was fulfill'd. She + lifted the Princess from the earth, and so locks her in embracing + as if she would pin her to her heart, that she might no more be + in danger of losing. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. The dignity of this act was worth the audience of + kings and princes; for by such was it acted. + THIRD GENTLEMAN. One of the prettiest touches of all, and that + which angl'd for mine eyes- caught the water, though not the + fish- was, when at the relation of the Queen's death, with the + manner how she came to't bravely confess'd and lamented by the + King, how attentivenes wounded his daughter; till, from one sign + of dolour to another, she did with an 'Alas!'- I would fain say- + bleed tears; for I am sure my heart wept blood. Who was most + marble there changed colour; some swooned, all sorrowed. If all + the world could have seen't, the woe had been universal. + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Are they returned to the court? + THIRD GENTLEMAN. No. The Princess hearing of her mother's statue, + which is in the keeping of Paulina- a piece many years in doing + and now newly perform'd by that rare Italian master, Julio + Romano, who, had he himself eternity and could put breath into + his work, would beguile nature of her custom, so perfectly he is + her ape. He so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that they say + one would speak to her and stand in hope of answer- thither with + all greediness of affection are they gone, and there they intend + to sup. + SECOND GENTLEMAN. I thought she had some great matter there in + hand; for she hath privately twice or thrice a day, ever since + the death of Hermione, visited that removed house. Shall we + thither, and with our company piece the rejoicing? + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Who would be thence that has the benefit of + access? Every wink of an eye some new grace will be born. Our + absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. Let's along. + Exeunt GENTLEMEN + AUTOLYCUS. Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me, would + preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his son + aboard the Prince; told him I heard them talk of a fardel and I + know not what; but he at that time over-fond of the shepherd's + daughter- so he then took her to be- who began to be much + sea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of weather + continuing, this mystery remained undiscover'd. But 'tis all one + to me; for had I been the finder-out of this secret, it would not + have relish'd among my other discredits. + + Enter SHEPHERD and CLOWN + + Here come those I have done good to against my will, and already + appearing in the blossoms of their fortune. + SHEPHERD. Come, boy; I am past moe children, but thy sons and + daughters will be all gentlemen born. + CLOWN. You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me this + other day, because I was no gentleman born. See you these + clothes? Say you see them not and think me still no gentleman + born. You were best say these robes are not gentlemen born. Give + me the lie, do; and try whether I am not now a gentleman born. + AUTOLYCUS. I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born. + CLOWN. Ay, and have been so any time these four hours. + SHEPHERD. And so have I, boy. + CLOWN. So you have; but I was a gentleman born before my father; + for the King's son took me by the hand and call'd me brother; and + then the two kings call'd my father brother; and then the Prince, + my brother, and the Princess, my sister, call'd my father father. + And so we wept; and there was the first gentleman-like tears that + ever we shed. + SHEPHERD. We may live, son, to shed many more. + CLOWN. Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous + estate as we are. + AUTOLYCUS. I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the faults I + have committed to your worship, and to give me your good report + to the Prince my master. + SHEPHERD. Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are + gentlemen. + CLOWN. Thou wilt amend thy life? + AUTOLYCUS. Ay, an it like your good worship. + CLOWN. Give me thy hand. I will swear to the Prince thou art as + honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia. + SHEPHERD. You may say it, but not swear it. + CLOWN. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and franklins + say it: I'll swear it. + SHEPHERD. How if it be false, son? + CLOWN. If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear it in + the behalf of his friend. And I'll swear to the Prince thou art a + tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt not be drunk; but I + know thou art no tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt be + drunk. But I'll swear it; and I would thou wouldst be a tall + fellow of thy hands. + AUTOLYCUS. I will prove so, sir, to my power. + CLOWN. Ay, by any means, prove a tall fellow. If I do not wonder + how thou dar'st venture to be drunk not being a tall fellow, + trust me not. Hark! the kings and the princes, our kindred, are + going to see the Queen's picture. Come, follow us; we'll be thy + good masters. Exeunt + + + + +SCENE III. +Sicilia. A chapel in PAULINA's house + +Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, FLORIZEL, PERDITA, CAMILLO, PAULINA, +LORDS and ATTENDANTS + + LEONTES. O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort + That I have had of thee! + PAULINA. What, sovereign sir, + I did not well, I meant well. All my services + You have paid home; but that you have vouchsaf'd, + With your crown'd brother and these your contracted + Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit, + It is a surplus of your grace, which never + My life may last to answer. + LEONTES. O Paulina, + We honour you with trouble; but we came + To see the statue of our queen. Your gallery + Have we pass'd through, not without much content + In many singularities; but we saw not + That which my daughter came to look upon, + The statue of her mother. + PAULINA. As she liv'd peerless, + So her dead likeness, I do well believe, + Excels whatever yet you look'd upon + Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it + Lonely, apart. But here it is. Prepare + To see the life as lively mock'd as ever + Still sleep mock'd death. Behold; and say 'tis well. + [PAULINA draws a curtain, and discovers HERMIONE + standing like a statue] + I like your silence; it the more shows off + Your wonder; but yet speak. First, you, my liege. + Comes it not something near? + LEONTES. Her natural posture! + Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed + Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she + In thy not chiding; for she was as tender + As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina, + Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing + So aged as this seems. + POLIXENES. O, not by much! + PAULINA. So much the more our carver's excellence, + Which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her + As she liv'd now. + LEONTES. As now she might have done, + So much to my good comfort as it is + Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood, + Even with such life of majesty- warm life, + As now it coldly stands- when first I woo'd her! + I am asham'd. Does not the stone rebuke me + For being more stone than it? O royal piece, + There's magic in thy majesty, which has + My evils conjur'd to remembrance, and + From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, + Standing like stone with thee! + PERDITA. And give me leave, + And do not say 'tis superstition that + I kneel, and then implore her blessing. Lady, + Dear queen, that ended when I but began, + Give me that hand of yours to kiss. + PAULINA. O, patience! + The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's + Not dry. + CAMILLO. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on, + Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, + So many summers dry. Scarce any joy + Did ever so long live; no sorrow + But kill'd itself much sooner. + POLIXENES. Dear my brother, + Let him that was the cause of this have pow'r + To take off so much grief from you as he + Will piece up in himself. + PAULINA. Indeed, my lord, + If I had thought the sight of my poor image + Would thus have wrought you- for the stone is mine- + I'd not have show'd it. + LEONTES. Do not draw the curtain. + PAULINA. No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy + May think anon it moves. + LEONTES. Let be, let be. + Would I were dead, but that methinks already- + What was he that did make it? See, my lord, + Would you not deem it breath'd, and that those veins + Did verily bear blood? + POLIXENES. Masterly done! + The very life seems warm upon her lip. + LEONTES. The fixture of her eye has motion in't, + As we are mock'd with art. + PAULINA. I'll draw the curtain. + My lord's almost so far transported that + He'll think anon it lives. + LEONTES. O sweet Paulina, + Make me to think so twenty years together! + No settled senses of the world can match + The pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone. + PAULINA. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you; but + I could afflict you farther. + LEONTES. Do, Paulina; + For this affliction has a taste as sweet + As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks, + There is an air comes from her. What fine chisel + Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, + For I will kiss her. + PAULINA. Good my lord, forbear. + The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; + You'll mar it if you kiss it; stain your own + With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain? + LEONTES. No, not these twenty years. + PERDITA. So long could I + Stand by, a looker-on. + PAULINA. Either forbear, + Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you + For more amazement. If you can behold it, + I'll make the statue move indeed, descend, + And take you by the hand, but then you'll think- + Which I protest against- I am assisted + By wicked powers. + LEONTES. What you can make her do + I am content to look on; what to speak + I am content to hear; for 'tis as easy + To make her speak as move. + PAULINA. It is requir'd + You do awake your faith. Then all stand still; + Or those that think it is unlawful business + I am about, let them depart. + LEONTES. Proceed. + No foot shall stir. + PAULINA. Music, awake her: strike. [Music] + 'Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach; + Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come; + I'll fill your grave up. Stir; nay, come away. + Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him + Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs. + [HERMIONE comes down from the pedestal] + Start not; her actions shall be holy as + You hear my spell is lawful. Do not shun her + Until you see her die again; for then + You kill her double. Nay, present your hand. + When she was young you woo'd her; now in age + Is she become the suitor? + LEONTES. O, she's warm! + If this be magic, let it be an art + Lawful as eating. + POLIXENES. She embraces him. + CAMILLO. She hangs about his neck. + If she pertain to life, let her speak too. + POLIXENES. Ay, and make it manifest where she has liv'd, + Or how stol'n from the dead. + PAULINA. That she is living, + Were it but told you, should be hooted at + Like an old tale; but it appears she lives + Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. + Please you to interpose, fair madam. Kneel, + And pray your mother's blessing. Turn, good lady; + Our Perdita is found. + HERMIONE. You gods, look down, + And from your sacred vials pour your graces + Upon my daughter's head! Tell me, mine own, + Where hast thou been preserv'd? Where liv'd? How found + Thy father's court? For thou shalt hear that I, + Knowing by Paulina that the oracle + Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserv'd + Myself to see the issue. + PAULINA. There's time enough for that, + Lest they desire upon this push to trouble + Your joys with like relation. Go together, + You precious winners all; your exultation + Partake to every one. I, an old turtle, + Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there + My mate, that's never to be found again, + Lament till I am lost. + LEONTES. O peace, Paulina! + Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, + As I by thine a wife. This is a match, + And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine; + But how, is to be question'd; for I saw her, + As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said many + A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far- + For him, I partly know his mind- to find thee + An honourable husband. Come, Camillo, + And take her by the hand whose worth and honesty + Is richly noted, and here justified + By us, a pair of kings. Let's from this place. + What! look upon my brother. Both your pardons, + That e'er I put between your holy looks + My ill suspicion. This your son-in-law, + And son unto the King, whom heavens directing, + Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, + Lead us from hence where we may leisurely + Each one demand and answer to his part + Perform'd in this wide gap of time since first + We were dissever'd. Hastily lead away. Exeunt + +THE END + + + +<> + + + + + +1609 + +A LOVER'S COMPLAINT + +by William Shakespeare + + + + From off a hill whose concave womb reworded + A plaintful story from a sist'ring vale, + My spirits t'attend this double voice accorded, + And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale, + Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, + Tearing of papers, breaking rings atwain, + Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain. + + Upon her head a platted hive of straw, + Which fortified her visage from the sun, + Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw + The carcase of a beauty spent and done. + Time had not scythed all that youth begun, + Nor youth all quit, but spite of heaven's fell rage + Some beauty peeped through lattice of seared age. + + Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, + Which on it had conceited characters, + Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine + That seasoned woe had pelleted in tears, + And often reading what contents it bears; + As often shrieking undistinguished woe, + In clamours of all size, both high and low. + + Sometimes her levelled eyes their carriage ride, + As they did batt'ry to the spheres intend; + Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied + To th' orbed earth; sometimes they do extend + Their view right on; anon their gazes lend + To every place at once, and nowhere fixed, + The mind and sight distractedly commixed. + + Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, + Proclaimed in her a careless hand of pride; + For some, untucked, descended her sheaved hat, + Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; + Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, + And, true to bondage, would not break from thence, + Though slackly braided in loose negligence. + + A thousand favours from a maund she drew + Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet, + Which one by one she in a river threw, + Upon whose weeping margent she was set; + Like usury applying wet to wet, + Or monarchs' hands that lets not bounty fall + Where want cries some, but where excess begs all. + + Of folded schedules had she many a one, + Which she perused, sighed, tore, and gave the flood; + Cracked many a ring of posied gold and bone, + Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; + Found yet moe letters sadly penned in blood, + With sleided silk feat and affectedly + Enswathed and sealed to curious secrecy. + + These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes, + And often kissed, and often 'gan to tear; + Cried, 'O false blood, thou register of lies, + What unapproved witness dost thou bear! + Ink would have seemed more black and damned here! + This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, + Big discontents so breaking their contents. + + A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh, + Sometime a blusterer that the ruffle knew + Of court, of city, and had let go by + The swiftest hours observed as they flew, + Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew; + And, privileged by age, desires to know + In brief the grounds and motives of her woe. + + So slides he down upon his grained bat, + And comely distant sits he by her side; + When he again desires her, being sat, + Her grievance with his hearing to divide. + If that from him there may be aught applied + Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage, + 'Tis promised in the charity of age. + + 'Father,' she says, 'though in me you behold + The injury of many a blasting hour, + Let it not tell your judgement I am old: + Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power. + I might as yet have been a spreading flower, + Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied + Love to myself, and to no love beside. + + 'But woe is me! too early I attended + A youthful suit- it was to gain my grace- + O, one by nature's outwards so commended + That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face. + Love lacked a dwelling and made him her place; + And when in his fair parts she did abide, + She was new lodged and newly deified. + + 'His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; + And every light occasion of the wind + Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls. + What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find: + Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind; + For on his visage was in little drawn + What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn. + + 'Small show of man was yet upon his chin; + His phoenix down began but to appear, + Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin, + Whose bare out-bragged the web it seemed to wear: + Yet showed his visage by that cost more dear; + And nice affections wavering stood in doubt + If best were as it was, or best without. + + 'His qualities were beauteous as his form, + For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free; + Yet if men moved him, was he such a storm + As oft 'twixt May and April is to see, + When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be. + His rudeness so with his authorized youth + Did livery falseness in a pride of truth. + + 'Well could he ride, and often men would say, + "That horse his mettle from his rider takes: + Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, + What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!" + And controversy hence a question takes + Whether the horse by him became his deed, + Or he his manage by th' well-doing steed. + + 'But quickly on this side the verdict went: + His real habitude gave life and grace + To appertainings and to ornament, + Accomplished in himself, not in his case, + All aids, themselves made fairer by their place, + Came for additions; yet their purposed trim + Pierced not his grace, but were all graced by him. + + 'So on the tip of his subduing tongue + All kind of arguments and question deep, + All replication prompt, and reason strong, + For his advantage still did wake and sleep. + To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep, + He had the dialect and different skill, + Catching all passions in his craft of will, + + 'That he did in the general bosom reign + Of young, of old, and sexes both enchanted, + To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain + In personal duty, following where he haunted. + Consents bewitched, ere he desire, have granted, + And dialogued for him what he would say, + Asked their own wills, and made their wills obey. + + 'Many there were that did his picture get, + To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind; + Like fools that in th' imagination set + The goodly objects which abroad they find + Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assigned; + And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them + Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them. + + 'So many have, that never touched his hand, + Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart. + My woeful self, that did in freedom stand, + And was my own fee-simple, not in part, + What with his art in youth, and youth in art, + Threw my affections in his charmed power + Reserved the stalk and gave him all my flower. + + 'Yet did I not, as some my equals did, + Demand of him, nor being desired yielded; + Finding myself in honour so forbid, + With safest distance I mine honour shielded. + Experience for me many bulwarks builded + Of proofs new-bleeding, which remained the foil + Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil. + + 'But ah, who ever shunned by precedent + The destined ill she must herself assay? + Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content, + To put the by-past perils in her way? + Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay; + For when we rage, advice is often seen + By blunting us to make our wills more keen. + + 'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood + That we must curb it upon others' proof, + To be forbod the sweets that seems so good + For fear of harms that preach in our behoof. + O appetite, from judgement stand aloof! + The one a palate hath that needs will taste, + Though Reason weep, and cry it is thy last. + + 'For further I could say this man's untrue, + And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; + Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew; + Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; + Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; + Thought characters and words merely but art, + And bastards of his foul adulterate heart. + + 'And long upon these terms I held my city, + Till thus he 'gan besiege me: "Gentle maid, + Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity, + And be not of my holy vows afraid. + That's to ye sworn to none was ever said; + For feasts of love I have been called unto, + Till now did ne'er invite nor never woo. + + '"All my offences that abroad you see + Are errors of the blood, none of the mind; + Love made them not; with acture they may be, + Where neither party is nor true nor kind. + They sought their shame that so their shame did find; + And so much less of shame in me remains + By how much of me their reproach contains. + + '"Among the many that mine eyes have seen, + Not one whose flame my heart so much as warmed, + Or my affection put to th' smallest teen, + Or any of my leisures ever charmed. + Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed; + Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, + And reigned commanding in his monarchy. + + '"Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent me, + Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood; + Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me + Of grief and blushes, aptly understood + In bloodless white and the encrimsoned mood- + Effects of terror and dear modesty, + Encamped in hearts, but fighting outwardly. + + '"And, lo, behold these talents of their hair, + With twisted metal amorously empleached, + I have receiv'd from many a several fair, + Their kind acceptance weepingly beseeched, + With the annexions of fair gems enriched, + And deep-brained sonnets that did amplify + Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality. + + '"The diamond? why, 'twas beautiful and hard, + Whereto his invised properties did tend; + The deep-green em'rald, in whose fresh regard + Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend; + The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend + With objects manifold; each several stone, + With wit well blazoned, smiled, or made some moan. + + '"Lo, all these trophies of affections hot, + Of pensived and subdued desires the tender, + Nature hath charged me that I hoard them not, + But yield them up where I myself must render- + That is, to you, my origin and ender; + For these, of force, must your oblations be, + Since I their altar, you enpatron me. + + '"O then advance of yours that phraseless hand + Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise; + Take all these similes to your own command, + Hallowed with sighs that burning lungs did raise; + What me your minister for you obeys + Works under you; and to your audit comes + Their distract parcels in combined sums. + + '"Lo, this device was sent me from a nun, + Or sister sanctified, of holiest note, + Which late her noble suit in court did shun, + Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote; + For she was sought by spirits of richest coat, + But kept cold distance, and did thence remove + To spend her living in eternal love. + + '"But, O my sweet, what labour is't to leave + The thing we have not, mast'ring what not strives, + Playing the place which did no form receive, + Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves! + She that her fame so to herself contrives, + The scars of battle scapeth by the flight, + And makes her absence valiant, not her might. + + '"O pardon me in that my boast is true! + The accident which brought me to her eye + Upon the moment did her force subdue, + And now she would the caged cloister fly. + Religious love put out religion's eye. + Not to be tempted, would she be immured, + And now to tempt all liberty procured. + + '"How mighty then you are, O hear me tell! + The broken bosoms that to me belong + Have emptied all their fountains in my well, + And mine I pour your ocean all among. + I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong, + Must for your victory us all congest, + As compound love to physic your cold breast. + + '"My parts had pow'r to charm a sacred nun, + Who, disciplined, ay, dieted in grace, + Believed her eyes when they t'assail begun, + All vows and consecrations giving place, + O most potential love, vow, bond, nor space, + In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, + For thou art all, and all things else are thine. + + '"When thou impressest, what are precepts worth + Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame, + How coldly those impediments stand forth, + Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame! + Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense, 'gainst shame. + And sweetens, in the suff'ring pangs it bears, + The aloes of all forces, shocks and fears. + + '"Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, + Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine, + And supplicant their sighs to your extend, + To leave the batt'ry that you make 'gainst mine, + Lending soft audience to my sweet design, + And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath, + That shall prefer and undertake my troth." + + 'This said, his wat'ry eyes he did dismount, + Whose sights till then were levelled on my face; + Each cheek a river running from a fount + With brinish current downward flowed apace. + O, how the channel to the stream gave grace! + Who glazed with crystal gate the glowing roses + That flame through water which their hue encloses. + + 'O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies + In the small orb of one particular tear! + But with the inundation of the eyes + What rocky heart to water will not wear? + What breast so cold that is not warmed here? + O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, + Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath. + + 'For lo, his passion, but an art of craft, + Even there resolved my reason into tears; + There my white stole of chastity I daffed, + Shook off my sober guards and civil fears; + Appear to him as he to me appears, + All melting; though our drops this diff'rence bore: + His poisoned me, and mine did him restore. + + 'In him a plenitude of subtle matter, + Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives, + Of burning blushes or of weeping water, + Or swooning paleness; and he takes and leaves, + In either's aptness, as it best deceives, + To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, + Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows; + + 'That not a heart which in his level came + Could scape the hail of his all-hurting aim, + Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; + And, veiled in them, did win whom he would maim. + Against the thing he sought he would exclaim; + When he most burned in heart-wished luxury, + He preached pure maid and praised cold chastity. + + 'Thus merely with the garment of a Grace + The naked and concealed fiend he covered, + That th' unexperient gave the tempter place, + Which, like a cherubin, above them hovered. + Who, young and simple, would not be so lovered? + Ay me, I fell, and yet do question make + What I should do again for such a sake. + + 'O, that infected moisture of his eye, + O, that false fire which in his cheek so glowed, + O, that forced thunder from his heart did fly, + O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestowed, + O, all that borrowed motion, seeming owed, + Would yet again betray the fore-betrayed, + And new pervert a reconciled maid.' + +THE END + + + +<> + + + +End of this Etext of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare + + + diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/stein.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/stein.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d06822e --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/stein.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2337 @@ +Three Lives + + + + + + + + Three Lives, by Gertrude Stein + + + + The Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Lives, by Gertrude Stein This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + Title: Three Lives Stories of The Good Anna, Melanctha and The Gentle Lena + + Author: Gertrude Stein + + Release Date: March 18, 2005 [EBook #15408] + + Language: English + + Character set encoding: ASCII + + *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE LIVES *** + + + + Produced by S.R.Ellison, Suzanne Shell, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + Three Lives + + Stories of The Good Anna, Melanctha and The Gentle Lena + + GERTRUDE STEIN + + + + Donc je suis malheureux et ce n'est ni ma faute ni celle de la vie.[1] + + Jules Laforgue + + [Footnote 1: Therefore I am unhappy and it is neither my fault nor that of life.] + + + + Contents + + page + + The Good Anna 1 Melanctha 47 The Gentle Lena 142 + + + + THE GOOD ANNA + + + + + + Part I + + The tradesmen of Bridgepoint learned to dread the sound of "Miss + + Mathilda", for with that name the good Anna always conquered. + + The strictest of the one price stores found that they could give things for a little less, when the good Anna had fully said that "Miss Mathilda" could not pay so much and that she could buy it cheaper "by Lindheims." + + Lindheims was Anna's favorite store, for there they had bargain days, when flour and sugar were sold for a quarter of a cent less for a pound, and there the heads of the departments were all her friends and always managed to give her the bargain prices, even on other days. + + Anna led an arduous and troubled life. + + Anna managed the whole little house for Miss Mathilda. It was a funny little house, one of a whole row of all the same kind that made a close pile like a row of dominoes that a child knocks over, for they were built along a street which at this point came down a steep hill. They were funny little houses, two stories high, with red brick fronts and long white steps. + + This one little house was always very full with Miss Mathilda, an under servant, stray dogs and cats and Anna's voice that scolded, managed, grumbled all day long. + + "Sallie! can't I leave you alone a minute but you must run to the door to see the butcher boy come down the street and there is Miss Mathilda calling for her shoes. Can I do everything while you go around always thinking about nothing at all? If I ain't after you every minute you would be forgetting all, the time, and I take all this pains, and when you come to me you was as ragged as a buzzard and as dirty as a dog. Go and find Miss Mathilda her shoes where you put them this morning." + + "Peter!",--her voice rose higher,--"Peter!",--Peter was the youngest and the favorite dog,--"Peter, if you don't leave Baby alone,"--Baby was an old, blind terrier that Anna had loved for many years,--"Peter if you don't leave Baby alone, I take a rawhide to you, you bad dog." + + The good Anna had high ideals for canine chastity and discipline. The three regular dogs, the three that always lived with Anna, Peter and old Baby, and the fluffy little Rags, who was always jumping up into the air just to show that he was happy, together with the transients, the many stray ones that Anna always kept until she found them homes, were all under strict orders never to be bad one with the other. + + A sad disgrace did once happen in the family. A little transient terrier for whom Anna had found a home suddenly produced a crop of pups. The new owners were certain that this Foxy had known no dog since she was in their care. The good Anna held to it stoutly that her Peter and her Rags were guiltless, and she made her statement with so much heat that Foxy's owners were at last convinced that these results were due to their neglect. + + "You bad dog," Anna said to Peter that night, "you bad dog." + + "Peter was the father of those pups," the good Anna explained to Miss Mathilda, "and they look just like him too, and poor little Foxy, they were so big that she could hardly have them, but Miss Mathilda, I would never let those people know that Peter was so bad." + + Periods of evil thinking came very regularly to Peter and to Rags and to the visitors within their gates. At such times Anna would be very busy and scold hard, and then too she always took great care to seclude the bad dogs from each other whenever she had to leave the house. Sometimes just to see how good it was that she had made them, Anna would leave the room a little while and leave them all together, and then she would suddenly come back. Back would slink all the wicked-minded dogs at the sound of her hand upon the knob, and then they would sit desolate in their corners like a lot of disappointed children whose stolen sugar has been taken from them. + + Innocent blind old Baby was the only one who preserved the dignity becoming in a dog. + + You see that Anna led an arduous and troubled life. + + The good Anna was a small, spare, german woman, at this time about forty years of age. Her face was worn, her cheeks were thin, her mouth drawn and firm, and her light blue eyes were very bright. Sometimes they were full of lightning and sometimes full of humor, but they were always sharp and clear. + + Her voice was a pleasant one, when she told the histories of bad Peter and of Baby and of little Rags. Her voice was a high and piercing one when she called to the teamsters and to the other wicked men, what she wanted that should come to them, when she saw them beat a horse or kick a dog. She did not belong to any society that could stop them and she told them so most frankly, but her strained voice and her glittering eyes, and her queer piercing german english first made them afraid and then ashamed. They all knew too, that all the policemen on the beat were her friends. These always respected and obeyed Miss Annie, as they called her, and promptly attended to all of her complaints. + + For five years Anna managed the little house for Miss Mathilda. In these five years there were four different under servants. + + The one that came first was a pretty, cheerful irish girl. Anna took her with a doubting mind. Lizzie was an obedient, happy servant, and Anna began to have a little faith. This was not for long. The pretty, cheerful Lizzie disappeared one day without her notice and with all her baggage and returned no more. + + This pretty, cheerful Lizzie was succeeded by a melancholy Molly. + + Molly was born in America, of german parents. All her people had been long dead or gone away. Molly had always been alone. She was a tall, dark, sallow, thin-haired creature, and she was always troubled with a cough, and she had a bad temper, and always said ugly dreadful swear words. + + Anna found all this very hard to bear, but she kept Molly a long time out of kindness. The kitchen was constantly a battle-ground. Anna scolded and Molly swore strange oaths, and then Miss Mathilda would shut her door hard to show that she could hear it all. + + At last Anna had to give it up. "Please Miss Mathilda won't you speak to Molly," Anna said, "I can't do a thing with her. I scold her, and she don't seem to hear and then she swears so that she scares me. She loves you Miss Mathilda, and you scold her please once." + + "But Anna," cried poor Miss Mathilda, "I don't want to," and that large, cheerful, but faint hearted woman looked all aghast at such a prospect. "But you must, please Miss Mathilda!" Anna said. + + Miss Mathilda never wanted to do any scolding. "But you must please Miss Mathilda," Anna said. + + Miss Mathilda every day put off the scolding, hoping always that Anna would learn to manage Molly better. It never did get better and at last Miss Mathilda saw that the scolding simply had to be. + + It was agreed between the good Anna and her Miss Mathilda that Anna should be away when Molly would be scolded. The next evening that it was Anna's evening out, Miss Mathilda faced her task and went down into the kitchen. + + Molly was sitting in the little kitchen leaning her elbows on the table. She was a tall, thin, sallow girl, aged twenty-three, by nature slatternly and careless but trained by Anna into superficial neatness. Her drab striped cotton dress and gray black checked apron increased the length and sadness of her melancholy figure. "Oh, Lord!" groaned Miss Mathilda to herself as she approached her. + + "Molly, I want to speak to you about your behaviour to Anna!", here Molly dropped her head still lower on her arms and began to cry. + + "Oh! Oh!" groaned Miss Mathilda. + + "It's all Miss Annie's fault, all of it," Molly said at last, in a trembling voice, "I do my best." + + "I know Anna is often hard to please," began Miss Mathilda, with a twinge of mischief, and then she sobered herself to her task, "but you must remember, Molly, she means it for your good and she is really very kind to you." + + "I don't want her kindness," Molly cried, "I wish you would tell me what to do, Miss Mathilda, and then I would be all right. I hate Miss Annie." + + "This will never do Molly," Miss Mathilda said sternly, in her deepest, firmest tones, "Anna is the head of the kitchen and you must either obey her or leave." + + "I don't want to leave you," whimpered melancholy Molly. "Well Molly then try and do better," answered Miss Mathilda, keeping a good stern front, and backing quickly from the kitchen. + + "Oh! Oh!" groaned Miss Mathilda, as she went back up the stairs. + + Miss Mathilda's attempt to make peace between the constantly contending women in the kitchen had no real effect. They were very soon as bitter as before. + + At last it was decided that Molly was to go away. Molly went away to work in a factory in the town, and she went to live with an old woman in the slums, a very bad old woman Anna said. + + Anna was never easy in her mind about the fate of Molly. Sometimes she would see or hear of her. Molly was not well, her cough was worse, and the old woman really was a bad one. + + After a year of this unwholesome life, Molly was completely broken down. Anna then again took her in charge. She brought her from her work and from the woman where she lived, and put her in a hospital to stay till she was well. She found a place for her as nursemaid to a little girl out in the country, and Molly was at last established and content. + + Molly had had, at first, no regular successor. In a few months it was going to be the summer and Miss Mathilda would be gone away, and old Katie would do very well to come in every day and help Anna with her work. + + Old Katy was a heavy, ugly, short and rough old german woman, with a strange distorted german-english all her own. Anna was worn out now with her attempt to make the younger generation do all that it should and rough old Katy never answered back, and never wanted her own way. No scolding or abuse could make its mark on her uncouth and aged peasant hide. She said her "Yes, Miss Annie," when an answer had to come, and that was always all that she could say. + + "Old Katy is just a rough old woman, Miss Mathilda," Anna said, "but I think I keep her here with me. She can work and she don't give me trouble like I had with Molly all the time." + + Anna always had a humorous sense from this old Katy's twisted peasant english, from the roughness on her tongue of buzzing s's and from the queer ways of her brutish servile humor. Anna could not let old Katy serve at table--old Katy was too coarsely made from natural earth for that--and so Anna had all this to do herself and that she never liked, but even then this simple rough old creature was pleasanter to her than any of the upstart young. + + Life went on very smoothly now in these few months before the summer came. Miss Mathilda every summer went away across the ocean to be gone for several months. When she went away this summer old Katy was so sorry, and on the day that Miss Mathilda went, old Katy cried hard for many hours. An earthy, uncouth, servile peasant creature old Katy surely was. She stood there on the white stone steps of the little red brick house, with her bony, square dull head with its thin, tanned, toughened skin and its sparse and kinky grizzled hair, and her strong, squat figure a little overmade on the right side, clothed in her blue striped cotton dress, all clean and always washed but rough and harsh to see--and she stayed there on the steps till Anna brought her in, blubbering, her apron to her face, and making queer guttural broken moans. + + When Miss Mathilda early in the fall came to her house again old Katy was not there. + + "I never thought old Katy would act so Miss Mathilda," Anna said, "when she was so sorry when you went away, and I gave her full wages all the summer, but they are all alike Miss Mathilda, there isn't one of them that's fit to trust. You know how Katy said she liked you, Miss Mathilda, and went on about it when you went away and then she was so good and worked all right until the middle of the summer, when I got sick, and then she went away and left me all alone and took a place out in the country, where they gave her some more money. She didn't say a word, Miss Mathilda, she just went off and left me there alone when I was sick after that awful hot summer that we had, and after all we done for her when she had no place to go, and all summer I gave her better things to eat than I had for myself. Miss Mathilda, there isn't one of them has any sense of what's the right way for a girl to do, not one of them." + + Old Katy was never heard from any more. + + No under servant was decided upon now for several months. Many came and many went, and none of them would do. At last Anna heard of Sallie. + + Sallie was the oldest girl in a family of eleven and Sallie was just sixteen years old. From Sallie down they came always littler and littler in her family, and all of them were always out at work excepting only the few littlest of them all. + + Sallie was a pretty blonde and smiling german girl, and stupid and a little silly. The littler they came in her family the brighter they all were. The brightest of them all was a little girl of ten. She did a good day's work washing dishes for a man and wife in a saloon, and she earned a fair day's wage, and then there was one littler still. She only worked for half the day. She did the house work for a bachelor doctor. She did it all, all of the housework and received each week her eight cents for her wage. Anna was always indignant when she told that story. + + "I think he ought to give her ten cents Miss Mathilda any way. Eight cents is so mean when she does all his work and she is such a bright little thing too, not stupid like our Sallie. Sallie would never learn to do a thing if I didn't scold her all the time, but Sallie is a good girl, and I take care and she will do all right." + + Sallie was a good, obedient german child. She never answered Anna back, no more did Peter, old Baby and little Rags and so though always Anna's voice was sharply raised in strong rebuke and worn expostulation, they were a happy family all there together in the kitchen. + + Anna was a mother now to Sallie, a good incessant german mother who watched and scolded hard to keep the girl from any evil step. Sallie's temptations and transgressions were much like those of naughty Peter and jolly little Rags, and Anna took the same way to keep all three from doing what was bad. + + Sallie's chief badness besides forgetting all the time and never washing her hands clean to serve at table, was the butcher boy. + + He was an unattractive youth enough, that butcher boy. Suspicion began to close in around Sallie that she spent the evenings when Anna was away, in company with this bad boy. + + "Sallie is such a pretty girl, Miss Mathilda," Anna said, "and she is so dumb and silly, and she puts on that red waist, and she crinkles up her hair with irons so I have to laugh, and then I tell her if she only washed her hands clean it would be better than all that fixing all the time, but you can't do a thing with the young girls nowadays Miss Mathilda. Sallie is a good girl but I got to watch her all the time." + + Suspicion closed in around Sallie more and more, that she spent Anna's evenings out with this boy sitting in the kitchen. One early morning Anna's voice was sharply raised. + + "Sallie this ain't the same banana that I brought home yesterday, for Miss Mathilda, for her breakfast, and you was out early in the street this morning, what was you doing there?" + + "Nothing, Miss Annie, I just went out to see, that's all and that's the same banana, 'deed it is Miss Annie." + + "Sallie, how can you say so and after all I do for you, and Miss Mathilda is so good to you. I never brought home no bananas yesterday with specks on it like that. I know better, it was that boy was here last night and ate it while I was away, and you was out to get another this morning. I don't want no lying Sallie." + + Sallie was stout in her defence but then she gave it up and she said it was the boy who snatched it as he ran away at the sound of Anna's key opening the outside door. "But I will never let him in again, Miss Annie, 'deed I won't," said Sallie. + + And now it was all peaceful for some weeks and then Sallie with fatuous simplicity began on certain evenings to resume her bright red waist, her bits of jewels and her crinkly hair. + + One pleasant evening in the early spring, Miss Mathilda was standing on the steps beside the open door, feeling cheerful in the pleasant, gentle night. Anna came down the street, returning from her evening out. "Don't shut the door, please, Miss Mathilda," Anna said in a low voice, "I don't want Sallie to know I'm home." + + Anna went softly through the house and reached the kitchen door. At the sound of her hand upon the knob there was a wild scramble and a bang, and then Sallie sitting there alone when Anna came into the room, but, alas, the butcher boy forgot his overcoat in his escape. + + You see that Anna led an arduous and troubled life. + + Anna had her troubles, too, with Miss Mathilda. "And I slave and slave to save the money and you go out and spend it all on foolishness," the good Anna would complain when her mistress, a large and careless woman, would come home with a bit of porcelain, a new etching and sometimes even an oil painting on her arm. + + "But Anna," argued Miss Mathilda, "if you didn't save this money, don't you see I could not buy these things," and then Anna would soften and look pleased until she learned the price, and then wringing her hands, "Oh, Miss Mathilda, Miss Mathilda," she would cry, "and you gave all that money out for that, when you need a dress to go out in so bad." "Well, perhaps I will get one for myself next year, Anna," Miss Mathilda would cheerfully concede. "If we live till then Miss Mathilda, I see that you do," Anna would then answer darkly. + + Anna had great pride in the knowledge and possessions of her cherished Miss Mathilda, but she did not like her careless way of wearing always her old clothes. "You can't go out to dinner in that dress, Miss Mathilda," she would say, standing firmly before the outside door, "You got to go and put on your new dress you always look so nice in." "But Anna, there isn't time." "Yes there is, I go up and help you fix it, please Miss Mathilda you can't go out to dinner in that dress and next year if we live till then, I make you get a new hat, too. It's a shame Miss Mathilda to go out like that." + + The poor mistress sighed and had to yield. It suited her cheerful, lazy temper to be always without care but sometimes it was a burden to endure, for so often she had it all to do again unless she made a rapid dash out of the door before Anna had a chance to see. + + Life was very easy always for this large and lazy Miss Mathilda, with the good Anna to watch and care for her and all her clothes and goods. But, alas, this world of ours is after all much what it should be and cheerful Miss Mathilda had her troubles too with Anna. + + It was pleasant that everything for one was done, but annoying often that what one wanted most just then, one could not have when one had foolishly demanded and not suggested one's desire. And then Miss Mathilda loved to go out on joyous, country tramps when, stretching free and far with cheerful comrades, over rolling hills and cornfields, glorious in the setting sun, and dogwood white and shining underneath the moon and clear stars over head, and brilliant air and tingling blood, it was hard to have to think of Anna's anger at the late return, though Miss Mathilda had begged that there might be no hot supper cooked that night. And then when all the happy crew of Miss Mathilda and her friends, tired with fullness of good health and burning winds and glowing sunshine in the eyes, stiffened and justly worn and wholly ripe for pleasant food and gentle content, were all come together to the little house--it was hard for all that tired crew who loved the good things Anna made to eat, to come to the closed door and wonder there if it was Anna's evening in or out, and then the others must wait shivering on their tired feet, while Miss Mathilda softened Anna's heart, or if Anna was well out, boldly ordered youthful Sallie to feed all the hungry lot. + + Such things were sometimes hard to bear and often grievously did Miss Mathilda feel herself a rebel with the cheerful Lizzies, the melancholy Mollies, the rough old Katies and the stupid Sallies. + + Miss Mathilda had other troubles too, with the good Anna. Miss Mathilda had to save her Anna from the many friends, who in the kindly fashion of the poor, used up her savings and then gave her promises in place of payments. + + The good Anna had many curious friends that she had found in the twenty years that she had lived in Bridgepoint, and Miss Mathilda would often have to save her from them all. + + + + + + Part II + + THE LIFE OF THE GOOD ANNA + + Anna Federner, this good Anna, was of solid lower middle-class south german stock. + + When she was seventeen years old she went to service in a bourgeois family, in the large city near her native town, but she did not stay there long. One day her mistress offered her maid--that was Anna--to a friend, to see her home. Anna felt herself to be a servant, not a maid, and so she promptly left the place. + + Anna had always a firm old world sense of what was the right way for a girl to do. + + No argument could bring her to sit an evening in the empty parlour, although the smell of paint when they were fixing up the kitchen made her very sick, and tired as she always was, she never would sit down during the long talks she held with Miss Mathilda. A girl was a girl and should act always like a girl, both as to giving all respect and as to what she had to eat. + + A little time after she left this service, Anna and her mother made the voyage to America. They came second-class, but it was for them a long and dreary journey. The mother was already ill with consumption. + + They landed in a pleasant town in the far South and there the mother slowly died. + + Anna was now alone and she made her way to Bridgepoint where an older half brother was already settled. This brother was a heavy, lumbering, good natured german man, full of the infirmity that comes of excess of body. + + He was a baker and married and fairly well to do. + + Anna liked her brother well enough but was never in any way dependent on him. + + When she arrived in Bridgepoint, she took service with Miss Mary Wadsmith. + + Miss Mary Wadsmith was a large, fair, helpless woman, burdened with the care of two young children. They had been left her by her brother and his wife who had died within a few months of each other. + + Anna soon had the household altogether in her charge. + + Anna found her place with large, abundant women, for such were always lazy, careless or all helpless, and so the burden of their lives could fall on Anna, and give her just content. Anna's superiors must be always these large helpless women, or be men, for none others could give themselves to be made so comfortable and free. + + Anna had no strong natural feeling to love children, as she had to love cats and dogs, and a large mistress. She never became deeply fond of Edgar and Jane Wadsmith. She naturally preferred the boy, for boys love always better to be done for and made comfortable and full of eating, while in the little girl she had to meet the feminine, the subtle opposition, showing so early always in a young girl's nature. + + For the summer, the Wadsmiths had a pleasant house out in the country, and the winter months they spent in hotel apartments in the city. + + Gradually it came to Anna to take the whole direction of their movements, to make all the decisions as to their journeyings to and fro, and for the arranging of the places where they were to live. + + Anna had been with Miss Mary for three years, when little Jane began to raise her strength in opposition. Jane was a neat, pleasant little girl, pretty and sweet with a young girl's charm, and with two blonde braids carefully plaited down her back. + + Miss Mary, like her Anna, had no strong natural feeling to love children, but she was fond of these two young ones of her blood, and yielded docilely to the stronger power in the really pleasing little girl. Anna always preferred the rougher handling of the boy, while Miss Mary found the gentle force and the sweet domination of the girl to please her better. + + In a spring when all the preparations for the moving had been made, Miss Mary and Jane went together to the country home, and Anna, after finishing up the city matters was to follow them in a few days with Edgar, whose vacation had not yet begun. + + Many times during the preparations for this summer, Jane had met Anna with sharp resistance, in opposition to her ways. It was simple for little Jane to give unpleasant orders, not from herself but from Miss Mary, large, docile, helpless Miss Mary Wadsmith who could never think out any orders to give Anna from herself. + + Anna's eyes grew slowly sharper, harder, and her lower teeth thrust a little forward and pressing strongly up, framed always more slowly the "Yes, Miss Jane," to the quick, "Oh Anna! Miss Mary says she wants you to do it so!" + + On the day of their migration, Miss Mary had been already put into the carriage. "Oh, Anna!" cried little Jane running back into the house, "Miss Mary says that you are to bring along the blue dressings out of her room and mine." Anna's body stiffened, "We never use them in the summer, Miss Jane," she said thickly. "Yes Anna, but Miss Mary thinks it would be nice, and she told me to tell you not to forget, good-by!" and the little girl skipped lightly down the steps into the carriage and they drove away. + + Anna stood still on the steps, her eyes hard and sharp and shining, and her body and her face stiff with resentment. And then she went into the house, giving the door a shattering slam. + + Anna was very hard to live with in those next three days. Even Baby, the new puppy, the pride of Anna's heart, a present from her friend the widow, Mrs. Lehntman--even this pretty little black and tan felt the heat of Anna's scorching flame. And Edgar, who had looked forward to these days, to be for him filled full of freedom and of things to eat--he could not rest a moment in Anna's bitter sight. + + On the third day, Anna and Edgar went to the Wadsmith country home. The blue dressings out of the two rooms remained behind. + + All the way, Edgar sat in front with the colored man and drove. It was an early spring day in the South. The fields and woods were heavy from the soaking rains. The horses dragged the carriage slowly over the long road, sticky with brown clay and rough with masses of stones thrown here and there to be broken and trodden into place by passing teams. Over and through the soaking earth was the feathery new spring growth of little flowers, of young leaves and of ferns. The tree tops were all bright with reds and yellows, with brilliant gleaming whites and gorgeous greens. All the lower air was full of the damp haze rising from heavy soaking water on the earth, mingled with a warm and pleasant smell from the blue smoke of the spring fires in all the open fields. And above all this was the clear, upper air, and the songs of birds and the joy of sunshine and of lengthening days. + + The languor and the stir, the warmth and weight and the strong feel of life from the deep centres of the earth that comes always with the early, soaking spring, when it is not answered with an active fervent joy, gives always anger, irritation and unrest. + + To Anna alone there in the carriage, drawing always nearer to the struggle with her mistress, the warmth, the slowness, the jolting over stones, the steaming from the horses, the cries of men and animals and birds, and the new life all round about were simply maddening. "Baby! if you don't lie still, I think I kill you. I can't stand it any more like this." + + At this time Anna, about twenty-seven years of age, was not yet all thin and worn. The sharp bony edges and corners of her head and face were still rounded out with flesh, but already the temper and the humor showed sharply in her clean blue eyes, and the thinning was begun about the lower jaw, that was so often strained with the upward pressure of resolve. + + To-day, alone there in the carriage, she was all stiff and yet all trembling with the sore effort of decision and revolt. + + As the carriage turned into the Wadsmith gate, little Jane ran out to see. She just looked at Anna's face; she did not say a word about blue dressings. + + Anna got down from the carriage with little Baby in her arms. She took out all the goods that she had brought and the carriage drove away. Anna left everything on the porch, and went in to where Miss Mary Wadsmith was sitting by the fire. + + Miss Mary was sitting in a large armchair by the fire. All the nooks and crannies of the chair were filled full of her soft and spreading body. She was dressed in a black satin morning gown, the sleeves, great monster things, were heavy with the mass of her soft flesh. She sat there always, large, helpless, gentle. She had a fair, soft, regular, good-looking face, with pleasant, empty, grey-blue eyes, and heavy sleepy lids. + + Behind Miss Mary was the little Jane, nervous and jerky with excitement as she saw Anna come into the room. + + "Miss Mary," Anna began. She had stopped just within the door, her body and her face stiff with repression, her teeth closed hard and the white lights flashing sharply in the pale, clean blue of her eyes. Her bearing was full of the strange coquetry of anger and of fear, the stiffness, the bridling, the suggestive movement underneath the rigidness of forced control, all the queer ways the passions have to show themselves all one. + + "Miss Mary," the words came slowly with thick utterance and with jerks, but always firm and strong. "Miss Mary, I can't stand it any more like this. When you tell me anything to do, I do it. I do everything I can and you know I work myself sick for you. The blue dressings in your room makes too much work to have for summer. Miss Jane don't know what work is. If you want to do things like that I go away." + + Anna stopped still. Her words had not the strength of meaning they were meant to have, but the power in the mood of Anna's soul frightened and awed Miss Mary through and through. + + Like in all large and helpless women, Miss Mary's heart beat weakly in the soft and helpless mass it had to govern. Little Jane's excitements had already tried her strength. Now she grew pale and fainted quite away. + + "Miss Mary!" cried Anna running to her mistress and supporting all her helpless weight back in the chair. Little Jane, distracted, flew about as Anna ordered, bringing smelling salts and brandy and vinegar and water and chafing poor Miss Mary's wrists. + + Miss Mary slowly opened her mild eyes. Anna sent the weeping little Jane out of the room. She herself managed to get Miss Mary quiet on the couch. + + There was never a word more said about blue dressings. + + Anna had conquered, and a few days later little Jane gave her a green parrot to make peace. + + For six more years little Jane and Anna lived in the same house. They were careful and respectful to each other to the end. + + Anna liked the parrot very well. She was fond of cats too and of horses, but best of all animals she loved the dog and best of all dogs, little Baby, the first gift from her friend, the widow Mrs. Lehntman. + + The widow Mrs. Lehntman was the romance in Anna's life. + + Anna met her first at the house of her half brother, the baker, who had known the late Mr. Lehntman, a small grocer, very well. + + Mrs. Lehntman had been for many years a midwife. Since her husband's death she had herself and two young children to support. + + Mrs. Lehntman was a good looking woman. She had a plump well rounded body, clear olive skin, bright dark eyes and crisp black curling hair. She was pleasant, magnetic, efficient and good. She was very attractive, very generous and very amiable. + + She was a few years older than our good Anna, who was soon entirely subdued by her magnetic, sympathetic charm. + + Mrs. Lehntman in her work loved best to deliver young girls who were in trouble. She would take these into her own house and care for them in secret, till they could guiltlessly go home or back to work, and then slowly pay her the money for their care. And so through this new friend Anna led a wider and more entertaining life, and often she used up her savings in helping Mrs. Lehntman through those times when she was giving very much more than she got. + + It was through Mrs. Lehntman that Anna met Dr. Shonjen who employed her when at last it had to be that she must go away from her Miss Mary Wadsmith. + + During the last years with her Miss Mary, Anna's health was very bad, as indeed it always was from that time on until the end of her strong life. + + Anna was a medium sized, thin, hard working, worrying woman. + + She had always had bad headaches and now they came more often and more wearing. + + Her face grew thin, more bony and more worn, her skin stained itself pale yellow, as it does with working sickly women, and the clear blue of her eyes went pale. + + Her back troubled her a good deal, too. She was always tired at her work and her temper grew more difficult and fretful. + + Miss Mary Wadsmith often tried to make Anna see a little to herself, and get a doctor, and the little Jane, now blossoming into a pretty, sweet young woman, did her best to make Anna do things for her good. Anna was stubborn always to Miss Jane, and fearful of interference in her ways. Miss Mary Wadsmith's mild advice she easily could always turn aside. + + Mrs. Lehntman was the only one who had any power over Anna. She induced her to let Dr. Shonjen take her in his care. + + No one but a Dr. Shonjen could have brought a good and german Anna first to stop her work and then submit herself to operation, but he knew so well how to deal with german and poor people. Cheery, jovial, hearty, full of jokes that made much fun and yet were full of simple common sense and reasoning courage, he could persuade even a good Anna to do things that were for her own good. + + Edgar had now been for some years away from home, first at a school and then at work to prepare himself to be a civil engineer. Miss Mary and Jane promised to take a trip for all the time that Anna was away, and so there would be no need for Anna's work, nor for a new girl to take Anna's place. + + Anna's mind was thus a little set at rest. She gave herself to Mrs. Lehntman and the doctor to do what they thought best to make her well and strong. + + Anna endured the operation very well, and was patient, almost docile, in the slow recovery of her working strength. But when she was once more at work for her Miss Mary Wadsmith, all the good effect of these several months of rest were soon worked and worried well away. + + For all the rest of her strong working life Anna was never really well. She had bad headaches all the time and she was always thin and worn. + + She worked away her appetite, her health and strength, and always for the sake of those who begged her not to work so hard. To her thinking, in her stubborn, faithful, german soul, this was the right way for a girl to do. + + Anna's life with Miss Mary Wadsmith was now drawing to an end. + + Miss Jane, now altogether a young lady, had come out into the world. Soon she would become engaged and then be married, and then perhaps Miss Mary Wadsmith would make her home with her. + + In such a household Anna was certain that she would never take a place. Miss Jane was always careful and respectful and very good to Anna, but never could Anna be a girl in a household where Miss Jane would be the head. This much was very certain in her mind, and so these last two years with her Miss Mary were not as happy as before. + + The change came very soon. + + Miss Jane became engaged and in a few months was to marry a man from out of town, from Curden, an hour's railway ride from Bridgepoint. + + Poor Miss Mary Wadsmith did not know the strong resolve Anna had made to live apart from her when this new household should be formed. Anna found it very hard to speak to her Miss Mary of this change. + + The preparations for the wedding went on day and night. + + Anna worked and sewed hard to make it all go well. + + Miss Mary was much fluttered, but content and happy with Anna to make everything so easy for them all. + + Anna worked so all the time to drown her sorrow and her conscience too, for somehow it was not right to leave Miss Mary so. But what else could she do? She could not live as her Miss Mary's girl, in a house where Miss Jane would be the head. + + The wedding day grew always nearer. At last it came and passed. + + The young people went on their wedding trip, and Anna and Miss Mary were left behind to pack up all the things. + + Even yet poor Anna had not had the strength to tell Miss Mary her resolve, but now it had to be. + + Anna every spare minute ran to her friend Mrs. Lehntman for comfort and advice. She begged her friend to be with her when she told the news to Miss Mary. + + Perhaps if Mrs. Lehntman had not been in Bridgepoint, Anna would have tried to live in the new house. Mrs. Lehntman did not urge her to this thing nor even give her this advice, but feeling for Mrs. Lehntman as she did made even faithful Anna not quite so strong in her dependence on Miss Mary's need as she would otherwise have been. + + Remember, Mrs. Lehntman was the romance in Anna's life. + + All the packing was now done and in a few days Miss Mary was to go to the new house, where the young people were ready for her coming. + + At last Anna had to speak. + + Mrs. Lehntman agreed to go with her and help to make the matter clear to poor Miss Mary. + + The two women came together to Miss Mary Wadsmith sitting placid by the fire in the empty living room. Miss Mary had seen Mrs. Lehntman many times before, and so her coming in with Anna raised no suspicion in her mind. + + It was very hard for the two women to begin. + + It must be very gently done, this telling to Miss Mary of the change. She must not be shocked by suddenness or with excitement. + + Anna was all stiff, and inside all a quiver with shame, anxiety and grief. Even courageous Mrs. Lehntman, efficient, impulsive and complacent as she was and not deeply concerned in the event, felt awkward, abashed and almost guilty in that large, mild, helpless presence. And at her side to make her feel the power of it all, was the intense conviction of poor Anna, struggling to be unfeeling, self righteous and suppressed. + + "Miss Mary"--with Anna when things had to come they came always sharp and short--"Miss Mary, Mrs. Lehntman has come here with me, so I can tell you about not staying with you there in Curden. Of course I go help you to get settled and then I think I come back and stay right here in Bridgepoint. You know my brother he is here and all his family, and I think it would be not right to go away from them so far, and you know you don't want me now so much Miss Mary when you are all together there in Curden." + + Miss Mary Wadsmith was puzzled. She did not understand what Anna meant by what she said. + + "Why Anna of course you can come to see your brother whenever you like to, and I will always pay your fare. I thought you understood all about that, and we will be very glad to have your nieces come to stay with you as often as they like. There will always be room enough in a big house like Mr. Goldthwaite's." + + It was now for Mrs. Lehntman to begin her work. + + "Miss Wadsmith does not understand just what you mean Anna," she began. "Miss Wadsmith, Anna feels how good and kind you are, and she talks about it all the time, and what you do for her in every way you can, and she is very grateful and never would want to go away from you, only she thinks it would be better now that Mrs. Goldthwaite has this big new house and will want to manage it in her own way, she thinks perhaps it would be better if Mrs. Goldthwaite had all new servants with her to begin with, and not a girl like Anna who knew her when she was a little girl. That is what Anna feels about it now, and she asked me and I said to her that I thought it would be better for you all and you knew she liked you so much and that you were so good to her, and you would understand how she thought it would be better in the new house if she stayed on here in Bridgepoint, anyway for a little while until Mrs. Goldthwaite was used to her new house. Isn't that it Anna that you wanted Miss Wadsmith to know?" + + "Oh Anna," Miss Mary Wadsmith said it slowly and in a grieved tone of surprise that was very hard for the good Anna to endure, "Oh Anna, I didn't think that you would ever want to leave me after all these years." + + "Miss Mary!" it came in one tense jerky burst, "Miss Mary it's only working under Miss Jane now would make me leave you so. I know how good you are and I work myself sick for you and for Mr. Edgar and for Miss Jane too, only Miss Jane she will want everything different from like the way we always did, and you know Miss Mary I can't have Miss Jane watching at me all the time, and every minute something new. Miss Mary, it would be very bad and Miss Jane don't really want me to come with you to the new house, I know that all the time. Please Miss Mary don't feel bad about it or think I ever want to go away from you if I could do things right for you the way they ought to be." + + Poor Miss Mary. Struggling was not a thing for her to do. Anna would surely yield if she would struggle, but struggling was too much work and too much worry for peaceful Miss Mary to endure. If Anna would do so she must. Poor Miss Mary Wadsmith sighed, looked wistfully at Anna and then gave it up. + + "You must do as you think best Anna," she said at last letting all of her soft self sink back into the chair. "I am very sorry and so I am sure will be Miss Jane when she hears what you have thought it best to do. It was very good of Mrs. Lehntman to come with you and I am sure she does it for your good. I suppose you want to go out a little now. Come back in an hour Anna and help me go to bed." Miss Mary closed her eyes and rested still and placid by the fire. + + The two women went away. + + This was the end of Anna's service with Miss Mary Wadsmith, and soon her new life taking care of Dr. Shonjen was begun. + + Keeping house for a jovial bachelor doctor gave new elements of understanding to Anna's maiden german mind. Her habits were as firm fixed as before, but it always was with Anna that things that had been done once with her enjoyment and consent could always happen any time again, such as her getting up at any hour of the night to make a supper and cook hot chops and chicken fry for Dr. Shonjen and his bachelor friends. + + Anna loved to work for men, for they could eat so much and with such joy. And when they were warm and full, they were content, and let her do whatever she thought best. Not that Anna's conscience ever slept, for neither with interference or without would she strain less to keep on saving every cent and working every hour of the day. But truly she loved it best when she could scold. Now it was not only other girls and the colored man, and dogs, and cats, and horses and her parrot, but her cheery master, jolly Dr. Shonjen, whom she could guide and constantly rebuke to his own good. + + The doctor really loved her scoldings as she loved his wickednesses and his merry joking ways. + + These days were happy days with Anna. + + Her freakish humor now first showed itself, her sense of fun in the queer ways that people had, that made her later find delight in brutish servile Katy, in Sally's silly ways and in the badness of Peter and of Rags. She loved to make sport with the skeletons the doctor had, to make them move and make strange noises till the negro boy shook in his shoes and his eyes rolled white in his agony of fear. + + Then Anna would tell these histories to her doctor. Her worn, thin, lined, determined face would form for itself new and humorous creases, and her pale blue eyes would kindle with humour and with joy as her doctor burst into his hearty laugh. And the good Anna full of the coquetry of pleasing would bridle with her angular, thin, spinster body, straining her stories and herself to please. + + These early days with jovial Dr. Shonjen were very happy days with the good Anna. + + All of Anna's spare hours in these early days she spent with her friend, the widow Mrs. Lehntman. Mrs. Lehntman lived with her two children in a small house in the same part of the town as Dr. Shonjen. The older of these two children was a girl named Julia and was now about thirteen years of age. This Julia Lehntman was an unattractive girl enough, harsh featured, dull and stubborn as had been her heavy german father. Mrs. Lehntman did not trouble much with her, but gave her always all she wanted that she had, and let the girl do as she liked. This was not from indifference or dislike on the part of Mrs. Lehntman, it was just her usual way. + + Her second child was a boy, two years younger than his sister, a bright, pleasant, cheery fellow, who too, did what he liked with his money and his time. All this was so with Mrs. Lehntman because she had so much in her head and in her house that clamoured for her concentration and her time. + + This slackness and neglect in the running of the house, and the indifference in this mother for the training of her young was very hard for our good Anna to endure. Of course she did her best to scold, to save for Mrs. Lehntman, and to put things in their place the way they ought to be. + + Even in the early days when Anna was first won by the glamour of Mrs. Lehntman's brilliancy and charm, she had been uneasy in Mrs. Lehntman's house with a need of putting things to rights. Now that the two children growing up were of more importance in the house, and now that long acquaintance had brushed the dazzle out of Anna's eyes, she began to struggle to make things go here as she thought was right. + + She watched and scolded hard these days to make young Julia do the way she should. Not that Julia Lehntman was pleasant in the good Anna's sight, but it must never be that a young girl growing up should have no one to make her learn to do things right. + + The boy was easier to scold, for scoldings never sank in very deep, and indeed he liked them very well for they brought with them new things to eat, and lively teasing, and good jokes. + + Julia, the girl, grew very sullen with it all, and very often won her point, for after all Miss Annie was no relative of hers and had no business coming there and making trouble all the time. Appealing to the mother was no use. It was wonderful how Mrs. Lehntman could listen and not hear, could answer and yet not decide, could say and do what she was asked and yet leave things as they were before. + + One day it got almost too bad for even Anna's friendship to bear out. + + "Well, Julia, is your mamma out?" Anna asked, one Sunday summer afternoon, as she came into the Lehntman house. + + Anna looked very well this day. She was always careful in her dress and sparing of new clothes. She made herself always fulfill her own ideal of how a girl should look when she took her Sundays out. Anna knew so well the kind of ugliness appropriate to each rank in life. + + It was interesting to see how when she bought things for Miss Wadsmith and later for her cherished Miss Mathilda and always entirely from her own taste and often as cheaply as she bought things for her friends or for herself, that on the one hand she chose the things having the right air for a member of the upper class, and for the others always the things having the awkward ugliness that we call Dutch. She knew the best thing in each kind, and she never in the course of her strong life compromised her sense of what was the right thing for a girl to wear. + + On this bright summer Sunday afternoon she came to the Lehntmans', much dressed up in her new, brick red, silk waist trimmed with broad black beaded braid, a dark cloth skirt and a new stiff, shiny, black straw hat, trimmed with colored ribbons and a bird. She had on new gloves, and a feather boa about her neck. + + Her spare, thin, awkward body and her worn, pale yellow face though lit up now with the pleasant summer sun made a queer discord with the brightness of her clothes. + + She came to the Lehntman house, where she had not been for several days, and opening the door that is always left unlatched in the houses of the lower middle class in the pleasant cities of the South, she found Julia in the family sitting-room alone. + + "Well, Julia, where is your mamma?" Anna asked. "Ma is out but come in, Miss Annie, and look at our new brother." "What you talk so foolish for Julia," said Anna sitting down. "I ain't talkin' foolish, Miss Annie. Didn't you know mamma has just adopted a cute, nice little baby boy?" "You talk so crazy, Julia, you ought to know better than to say such things." Julia turned sullen. "All right Miss Annie, you don't need to believe what I say, but the little baby is in the kitchen and ma will tell you herself when she comes in." + + It sounded most fantastic, but Julia had an air of truth and Mrs. Lehntman was capable of doing stranger things. Anna was disturbed. "What you mean Julia," she said. "I don't mean nothin' Miss Annie, you don't believe the baby is in there, well you can go and see it for yourself." + + Anna went into the kitchen. A baby was there all right enough, and a lusty little boy he seemed. He was very tight asleep in a basket that stood in the corner by the open door. + + "You mean your mamma is just letting him stay here a little while," Anna said to Julia who had followed her into the kitchen to see Miss Annie get real mad. "No that ain't it Miss Annie. The mother was that girl, Lily that came from Bishop's place out in the country, and she don't want no children, and ma liked the little boy so much, she said she'd keep him here and adopt him for her own child." + + Anna, for once, was fairly dumb with astonishment and rage. The front door slammed. + + "There's ma now," cried Julia in an uneasy triumph, for she was not quite certain in her mind which side of the question she was on. + + "There's ma now, and you can ask her for yourself if I ain't told you true." + + Mrs. Lehntman came into the kitchen where they were. She was bland, impersonal and pleasant, as it was her wont to be. Still to-day, through this her usual manner that gave her such success in her practice as a midwife, there shone an uneasy consciousness of guilt, for like all who had to do with the good Anna, Mrs. Lehntman dreaded her firm character, her vigorous judgments and the bitter fervour of her tongue. + + It had been plain to see in the six years these women were together, how Anna gradually had come to lead. Not really lead, of course, for Mrs. Lehntman never could be led, she was so very devious in her ways; but Anna had come to have direction whenever she could learn what Mrs. Lehntman meant to do before the deed was done. Now it was hard to tell which would win out. Mrs. Lehntman had her unhearing mind and her happy way of giving a pleasant well diffused attention, and then she had it on her side that, after all, this thing was already done. + + Anna was, as usual, determined for the right. She was stiff and pale with her anger and her fear, and nervous, and all a tremble as was her usual way when a bitter fight was near. + + Mrs. Lehntman was easy and pleasant as she came into the room. Anna was stiff and silent and very white. + + "We haven't seen you for a long time, Anna," Mrs. Lehntman cordially began. "I was just gettin' worried thinking you was sick. My! but it's a hot day to-day. Come into the sittin'-room, Anna, and Julia will make us some ice tea." + + Anna followed Mrs. Lehntman into the other room in a stiff silence, and when there she did not, as invited, take a chair. + + As always with Anna when a thing had to come it came very short and sharp. She found it hard to breathe just now, and every word came with a jerk. + + "Mrs. Lehntman, it ain't true what Julia said about your taking that Lily's boy to keep. I told Julia when she told me she was crazy to talk so." + + Anna's real excitements stopped her breath, and made her words come sharp and with a jerk. Mrs. Lehntman's feelings spread her breath, and made her words come slow, but more pleasant and more easy even than before. + + "Why Anna," she began, "don't you see Lily couldn't keep her boy for she is working at the Bishops' now, and he is such a cute dear little chap, and you know how fond I am of little fellers, and I thought it would be nice for Julia and for Willie to have a little brother. You know Julia always loves to play with babies, and I have to be away so much, and Willie he is running in the streets every minute all the time, and you see a baby would be sort of nice company for Julia, and you know you are always saying Anna, Julia should not be on the streets so much and the baby will be so good to keep her in." + + Anna was every minute paler with indignation and with heat. + + "Mrs. Lehntman, I don't see what business it is for you to take another baby for your own, when you can't do what's right by Julia and Willie you got here already. There's Julia, nobody tells her a thing when I ain't here, and who is going to tell her now how to do things for that baby? She ain't got no sense what's the right way to do with children, and you out all the time, and you ain't got no time for your own neither, and now you want to be takin' up with strangers. I know you was careless, Mrs. Lehntman, but I didn't think that you could do this so. No, Mrs. Lehntman, it ain't your duty to take up with no others, when you got two children of your own, that got to get along just any way they can, and you know you ain't got any too much money all the time, and you are all so careless here and spend it all the time, and Julia and Willie growin' big. It ain't right, Mrs. Lehntman, to do so." + + This was as bad as it could be. Anna had never spoken her mind so to her friend before. Now it was too harsh for Mrs. Lehntman to allow herself to really hear. If she really took the meaning in these words she could never ask Anna to come into her house again, and she liked Anna very well, and was used to depend on her savings and her strength. And then too Mrs. Lehntman could not really take in harsh ideas. She was too well diffused to catch the feel of any sharp firm edge. + + Now she managed to understand all this in a way that made it easy for her to say, "Why, Anna, I think you feel too bad about seeing what the children are doing every minute in the day. Julia and Willie are real good, and they play with all the nicest children in the square. If you had some, all your own, Anna, you'd see it don't do no harm to let them do a little as they like, and Julia likes this baby so, and sweet dear little boy, it would be so kind of bad to send him to a 'sylum now, you know it would Anna, when you like children so yourself, and are so good to my Willie all the time. No indeed Anna, it's easy enough to say I should send this poor, cute little boy to a 'sylum when I could keep him here so nice, but you know Anna, you wouldn't like to do it yourself, now you really know you wouldn't, Anna, though you talk to me so hard.--My, it's hot to-day, what you doin' with that ice tea in there Julia, when Miss Annie is waiting all this time for her drink?" + + Julia brought in the ice tea. She was so excited with the talk she had been hearing from the kitchen, that she slopped it on the plate out of the glasses a good deal. But she was safe, for Anna felt this trouble so deep down that she did not even see those awkward, bony hands, adorned today with a new ring, those stupid, foolish hands that always did things the wrong way. + + "Here Miss Annie," Julia said, "Here, Miss Annie, is your glass of tea, I know you like it good and strong." + + "No, Julia, I don't want no ice tea here. Your mamma ain't able to afford now using her money upon ice tea for her friends. It ain't right she should now any more. I go out now to see Mrs. Drehten. She does all she can, and she is sick now working so hard taking care of her own children. I go there now. Good by Mrs. Lehntman, I hope you don't get no bad luck doin' what it ain't right for you to do." + + "My, Miss Annie is real mad now," Julia said, as the house shook, as the good Anna shut the outside door with a concentrated shattering slam. + + It was some months now that Anna had been intimate with Mrs. Drehten. + + Mrs. Drehten had had a tumor and had come to Dr. Shonjen to be treated. During the course of her visits there, she and Anna had learned to like each other very well. There was no fever in this friendship, it was just the interchange of two hard working, worrying women, the one large and motherly, with the pleasant, patient, soft, worn, tolerant face, that comes with a german husband to obey, and seven solid girls and boys to bear and rear, and the other was our good Anna with her spinster body, her firm jaw, her humorous, light, clean eyes and her lined, worn, thin, pale yellow face. + + Mrs. Drehten lived a patient, homely, hard-working life. Her husband an honest, decent man enough, was a brewer, and somewhat given to over drinking, and so he was often surly and stingy and unpleasant. + + The family of seven children was made up of four stalwart, cheery, filial sons, and three hard working obedient simple daughters. + + It was a family life the good Anna very much approved and also she was much liked by them all. With a german woman's feeling for the masterhood in men, she was docile to the surly father and rarely rubbed him the wrong way. To the large, worn, patient, sickly mother she was a sympathetic listener, wise in council and most efficient in her help. The young ones too, liked her very well. The sons teased her all the time and roared with boisterous pleasure when she gave them back sharp hits. The girls were all so good that her scoldings here were only in the shape of good advice, sweetened with new trimmings for their hats, and ribbons, and sometimes on their birthdays, bits of jewels. + + It was here that Anna came for comfort after her grievous stroke at her friend the widow, Mrs. Lehntman. Not that Anna would tell Mrs. Drehten of this trouble. She could never lay bare the wound that came to her through this idealised affection. Her affair with Mrs. Lehntman was too sacred and too grievous ever to be told. But here in this large household, in busy movement and variety in strife, she could silence the uneasiness and pain of her own wound. + + The Drehtens lived out in the country in one of the wooden, ugly houses that lie in groups outside of our large cities. + + The father and the sons all had their work here making beer, and the mother and her girls scoured and sewed and cooked. + + On Sundays they were all washed very clean, and smelling of kitchen soap. The sons, in their Sunday clothes, loafed around the house or in the village, and on special days went on picnics with their girls. The daughters in their awkward, colored finery went to church most of the day and then walking with their friends. + + They always came together for their supper, where Anna always was most welcome, the jolly Sunday evening supper that german people love. Here Anna and the boys gave it to each other in sharp hits and hearty boisterous laughter, the girls made things for them to eat, and waited on them all, the mother loved all her children all the time, and the father joined in with his occasional unpleasant word that made a bitter feeling but which they had all learned to pass as if it were not said. + + It was to the comfort of this house that Anna came that Sunday summer afternoon, after she had left Mrs. Lehntman and her careless ways. + + The Drehten house was open all about. No one was there but Mrs. Drehten resting in her rocking chair, out in the pleasant, scented, summer air. + + Anna had had a hot walk from the cars. + + She went into the kitchen for a cooling drink, and then came out and sat down on the steps near Mrs. Drehten. + + Anna's anger had changed. A sadness had come to her. Now with the patient, friendly, gentle mother talk of Mrs. Drehten, this sadness changed to resignation and to rest. + + As the evening came on the young ones dropped in one by one. Soon the merry Sunday evening supper was begun. + + It had not been all comfort for our Anna, these months of knowing Mrs. Drehten. It had made trouble for her with the family of her half brother, the fat baker. + + Her half brother, the fat baker, was a queer kind of a man. He was a huge, unwieldy creature, all puffed out all over, and no longer able to walk much, with his enormous body and the big, swollen, bursted veins in his great legs. He did not try to walk much now. He sat around his place, leaning on his great thick stick, and watching his workmen at their work. + + On holidays, and sometimes of a Sunday, he went out in his bakery wagon. He went then to each customer he had and gave them each a large, sweet, raisined loaf of caky bread. At every house with many groans and gasps he would descend his heavy weight out of the wagon, his good featured, black haired, flat, good natured face shining with oily perspiration, with pride in labor and with generous kindness. Up each stoop he hobbled with the help of his big stick, and into the nearest chair in the kitchen or in the parlour, as the fashion of the house demanded, and there he sat and puffed, and then presented to the mistress or the cook the raisined german loaf his boy supplied him. + + Anna had never been a customer of his. She had always lived in another part of the town, but he never left her out in these bakery progresses of his, and always with his own hand he gave her her festive loaf. + + Anna liked her half brother well enough. She never knew him really well, for he rarely talked at all and least of all to women, but he seemed to her, honest, and good and kind, and he never tried to interfere in Anna's ways. And then Anna liked the loaves of raisined bread, for in the summer she and the second girl could live on them, and not be buying bread with the household money all the time. + + But things were not so simple with our Anna, with the other members of her half brother's house. + + Her half brother's family was made up of himself, his wife, and their two daughters. + + Anna never liked her brother's wife. + + The youngest of the two daughters was named after her aunt Anna. + + Anna never liked her half brother's wife. This woman had been very good to Anna, never interfering in her ways, always glad to see her and to make her visits pleasant, but she had not found favour in our good Anna's sight. + + Anna had too, no real affection for her nieces. She never scolded them or tried to guide them for their good. Anna never criticised or interfered in the running of her half brother's house. + + Mrs. Federner was a good looking, prosperous woman, a little harsh and cold within her soul perhaps, but trying always to be pleasant, good and kind. Her daughters were well trained, quiet, obedient, well dressed girls, and yet our good Anna loved them not, nor their mother, nor any of their ways. + + It was in this house that Anna had first met her friend, the widow, Mrs. Lehntman. + + The Federners had never seemed to feel it wrong in Anna, her devotion to this friend and her care of her and of her children. Mrs. Lehntman and Anna and her feelings were all somehow too big for their attack. But Mrs. Federner had the mind and tongue that blacken things. Not really to blacken black, of course, but just to roughen and to rub on a little smut. She could somehow make even the face of the Almighty seem pimply and a little coarse, and so she always did this with her friends, though not with the intent to interfere. + + This was really true with Mrs. Lehntman that Mrs. Federner did not mean to interfere, but Anna's friendship with the Drehtens was a very different matter. + + Why should Mrs. Drehten, that poor common working wife of a man who worked for others in a brewery and who always drank too much, and was not like a thrifty, decent german man, why should that Mrs. Drehten and her ugly, awkward daughters be getting presents from her husband's sister all the time, and her husband always so good to Anna, and one of the girls having her name too, and those Drehtens all strangers to her and never going to come to any good? It was not right for Anna to do so. + + Mrs. Federner knew better than to say such things straight out to her husband's fiery, stubborn sister, but she lost no chance to let Anna feel and see what they all thought. + + It was easy to blacken all the Drehtens, their poverty, the husband's drinking, the four big sons carrying on and always lazy, the awkward, ugly daughters dressing up with Anna's help and trying to look so fine, and the poor, weak, hard-working sickly mother, so easy to degrade with large dosings of contemptuous pity. + + Anna could not do much with these attacks for Mrs. Federner always ended with, "And you so good to them Anna all the time. I don't see how they could get along at all if you didn't help them all the time, but you are so good Anna, and got such a feeling heart, just like your brother, that you give anything away you got to anybody that will ask you for it, and that's shameless enough to take it when they ain't no relatives of yours. Poor Mrs. Drehten, she is a good woman. Poor thing it must be awful hard for her to have to take things from strangers all the time, and her husband spending it on drink. I was saying to Mrs. Lehntman, Anna, only yesterday, how I never was so sorry for any one as Mrs. Drehten, and how good it was for you to help them all the time." + + All this meant a gold watch and chain to her god daughter for her birthday, the next month, and a new silk umbrella for the elder sister. Poor Anna, and she did not love them very much, these relatives of hers, and they were the only kin she had. + + Mrs. Lehntman never joined in, in these attacks. Mrs. Lehntman was diffuse and careless in her ways, but she never worked such things for her own ends, and she was too sure of Anna to be jealous of her other friends. + + All this time Anna was leading her happy life with Dr. Shonjen. She had every day her busy time. She cooked and saved and sewed and scrubbed and scolded. And every night she had her happy time, in seeing her Doctor like the fine things she bought so cheap and cooked so good for him to eat. And then he would listen and laugh so loud, as she told him stories of what had happened on that day. + + The Doctor, too, liked it better all the time and several times in these five years he had of his own motion raised her wages. + + Anna was content with what she had and grateful for all her doctor did for her. + + So Anna's serving and her giving life went on, each with its varied pleasures and its pains. + + The adopting of the little boy did not put an end to Anna's friendship for the widow Mrs. Lehntman. Neither the good Anna nor the careless Mrs. Lehntman would give each other up excepting for the gravest cause. + + Mrs. Lehntman was the only romance Anna ever knew. A certain magnetic brilliancy in person and in manner made Mrs. Lehntman a woman other women loved. Then, too, she was generous and good and honest, though she was so careless always in her ways. And then she trusted Anna and liked her better than any of her other friends, and Anna always felt this very much. + + No, Anna could not give up Mrs. Lehntman, and soon she was busier than before making Julia do things right for little Johnny. + + And now new schemes were working strong in Mrs. Lehntman's head, and Anna must listen to her plans and help her make them work. + + Mrs. Lehntman always loved best in her work to deliver young girls who were in trouble. She would keep these in her house until they could go to their homes or to their work, and slowly pay her back the money for their care. + + Anna had always helped her friend to do this thing, for like all the good women of the decent poor, she felt it hard that girls should not be helped, not girls that were really bad of course, these she condemned and hated in her heart and with her tongue, but honest, decent, good, hard working, foolish girls who were in trouble. + + For such as these Anna always liked to give her money and her strength. + + Now Mrs. Lehntman thought that it would pay to take a big house for herself to take in girls and to do everything in a big way. + + Anna did not like this plan. + + Anna was never daring in her ways. Save and you will have the money you have saved, was all that she could know. + + Not that the good Anna had it so. + + She saved and saved and always saved, and then here and there, to this friend and to that, to one in her trouble and to the other in her joy, in sickness, death, and weddings, or to make young people happy, it always went, the hard earned money she had saved. + + Anna could not clearly see how Mrs. Lehntman could make a big house pay. In the small house where she had these girls, it did not pay, and in a big house there was so much more that she would spend. + + Such things were hard for the good Anna to very clearly see. One day she came into the Lehntman house. "Anna," Mrs. Lehntman said, "you know that nice big house on the next corner that we saw to rent. I took it for a year just yesterday. I paid a little down you know so I could have it sure all right and now you fix it up just like you want. I let you do just what you like with it." + + Anna knew that it was now too late. However, "But Mrs. Lehntman you said you would not take another house, you said so just last week. Oh, Mrs. Lehntman I didn't think that you would do this so!" + + Anna knew so well it was too late. + + "I know, Anna, but it was such a good house, just right you know and someone else was there to see, and you know you said it suited very well, and if I didn't take it the others said they would, and I wanted to ask you only there wasn't time, and really Anna, I don't need much help, it will go so well I know. I just need a little to begin and to fix up with and that's all Anna that I need, and I know it will go awful well. You wait Anna and you'll see, and I let you fix it up just like you want, and you will make it look so nice, you got such sense in all these things. It will be a good place. You see Anna if I ain't right in what I say." + + Of course Anna gave the money for this thing though she could not believe that it was best. No, it was very bad. Mrs. Lehntman could never make it pay and it would cost so much to keep. But what could our poor Anna do? Remember Mrs. Lehntman was the only romance Anna ever knew. + + Anna's strength in her control of what was done in Mrs. Lehntman's house, was not now what it had been before that Lily's little Johnny came. That thing had been for Anna a defeat. There had been no fighting to a finish but Mrs. Lehntman had very surely won. + + Mrs. Lehntman needed Anna just as much as Anna needed Mrs. Lehntman, but Mrs. Lehntman was more ready to risk Anna's loss, and so the good Anna grew always weaker in her power to control. + + In friendship, power always has its downward curve. One's strength to manage rises always higher until there comes a time one does not win, and though one may not really lose, still from the time that victory is not sure, one's power slowly ceases to be strong. It is only in a close tie such as marriage, that influence can mount and grow always stronger with the years and never meet with a decline. It can only happen so when there is no way to escape. + + Friendship goes by favour. There is always danger of a break or of a stronger power coming in between. Influence can only be a steady march when one can surely never break away. + + Anna wanted Mrs. Lehntman very much and Mrs. Lehntman needed Anna, but there were always other ways to do and if Anna had once given up she might do so again, so why should Mrs. Lehntman have real fear? + + No, while the good Anna did not come to open fight she had been stronger. Now Mrs. Lehntman could always hold out longer. She knew too, that Anna had a feeling heart. Anna could never stop doing all she could for any one that really needed help. Poor Anna had no power to say no. + + And then, too, Mrs. Lehntman was the only romance Anna ever knew. Romance is the ideal in one's life and it is very lonely living with it lost. + + So the good Anna gave all her savings for this place, although she knew that this was not the right way for her friend to do. + + For some time now they were all very busy fixing up the house. It swallowed all Anna's savings fixing up this house, for when Anna once began to make it nice, she could not leave it be until it was as good as for the purpose it should be. + + Somehow it was Anna now that really took the interest in the house. Mrs. Lehntman, now the thing was done seemed very lifeless, without interest in the house, uneasy in her mind and restless in her ways, and more diffuse even than before in her attention. She was good and kind to all the people in her house, and let them do whatever they thought best. + + Anna did not fail to see that Mrs. Lehntman had something on her mind that was all new. What was it that disturbed Mrs. Lehntman so? She kept on saying it was all in Anna's head. She had no trouble now at all. Everybody was so good and it was all so nice in the new house. But surely there was something here that was all wrong. + + Anna heard a good deal of all this from her half brother's wife, the hard speaking Mrs. Federner. + + Through the fog of dust and work and furnishing in the new house, and through the disturbed mind of Mrs. Lehntman, and with the dark hints of Mrs. Federner, there loomed up to Anna's sight a man, a new doctor that Mrs. Lehntman knew. + + Anna had never met the man but she heard of him very often now. Not from her friend, the widow Mrs. Lehntman. Anna knew that Mrs. Lehntman made of him a mystery that Anna had not the strength just then to vigorously break down. + + Mrs. Federner gave always dark suggestions and unpleasant hints. Even good Mrs. Drehten talked of it. + + Mrs. Lehntman never spoke of the new doctor more than she could help. This was most mysterious and unpleasant and very hard for our good Anna to endure. + + Anna's troubles came all of them at once. + + Here in Mrs. Lehntman's house loomed up dismal and forbidding, a mysterious, perhaps an evil man. In Dr. Shonjen's house were beginning signs of interest in the doctor in a woman. + + This, too, Mrs. Federner often told to the poor Anna. The doctor surely would be married soon, he liked so much now to go to Mr. Weingartner's house where there was a daughter who loved Doctor, everybody knew. + + In these days the living room in her half brother's house was Anna's torture chamber. And worst of all there was so much reason for her half sister's words. The Doctor certainly did look like marriage and Mrs. Lehntman acted very queer. + + Poor Anna. Dark were these days and much she had to suffer. + + The Doctor's trouble came to a head the first. It was true Doctor was engaged and to be married soon. He told Anna so himself. + + What was the good Anna now to do? Dr. Shonjen wanted her of course to stay. Anna was so sad with all these troubles. She knew here in the Doctor's house it would be bad when he was married, but she had not the strength now to be firm and go away. She said at last that she would try and stay. + + Doctor got married now very soon. Anna made the house all beautiful and clean and she really hoped that she might stay. But this was not for long. + + Mrs. Shonjen was a proud, unpleasant woman. She wanted constant service and attention and never even a thank you to a servant. Soon all Doctor's old people went away. Anna went to Doctor and explained. She told him what all the servants thought of his new wife. Anna bade him a sad farewell and went away. + + Anna was now most uncertain what to do. She could go to Curden to her Miss Mary Wadsmith who always wrote how much she needed Anna, but Anna still dreaded Miss Jane's interfering ways. Then too, she could not yet go away from Bridgepoint and from Mrs. Lehntman, unpleasant as it always was now over there. + + Through one of Doctor's friends Anna heard of Miss Mathilda. Anna was very doubtful about working for a Miss Mathilda. She did not think it would be good working for a woman anymore. She had found it very good with Miss Mary but she did not think that many women would be so. + + Most women were interfering in their ways. + + Anna heard that Miss Mathilda was a great big woman, not so big perhaps as her Miss Mary, still she was big, and the good Anna liked them better so. She did not like them thin and small and active and always looking in and always prying. + + Anna could not make up her mind what was the best thing now for her to do. She could sew and this way make a living, but she did not like such business very well. + + Mrs. Lehntman urged the place with Miss Mathilda. She was sure Anna would find it better so. The good Anna did not know. + + "Well Anna," Mrs. Lehntman said, "I tell you what we do. I go with you to that woman that tells fortunes, perhaps she tell us something that will show us what is the best way for you now to do." + + It was very bad to go to a woman who tells fortunes. Anna was of strong South German Catholic religion and the german priests in the churches always said that it was very bad to do things so. But what else now could the good Anna do? She was so mixed and bothered in her mind, and troubled with this life that was all wrong, though she did try so hard to do the best she knew. "All right, Mrs. Lehntman," Anna said at last, "I think I go there now with you." + + This woman who told fortunes was a medium. She had a house in the lower quarter of the town. Mrs. Lehntman and the good Anna went to her. + + The medium opened the door for them herself. She was a loose made, dusty, dowdy woman with a persuading, conscious and embracing manner and very greasy hair. + + The woman let them come into the house. + + The street door opened straight into the parlor, as is the way in the small houses of the south. The parlor had a thick and flowered carpet on the floor. The room was full of dirty things all made by hand. Some hung upon the wall, some were on the seats and over backs of chairs and some on tables and on those what-nots that poor people love. And everywhere were little things that break. Many of these little things were broken and the place was stuffy and not clean. + + No medium uses her parlor for her work. It is always in her eating room that she has her trances. + + The eating room in all these houses is the living room in winter. It has a round table in the centre covered with a decorated woolen cloth, that has soaked in the grease of many dinners, for though it should be always taken off, it is easier to spread the cloth upon it than change it for the blanket deadener that one owns. The upholstered chairs are dark and worn, and dirty. The carpet has grown dingy with the food that's fallen from the table, the dirt that's scraped from off the shoes, and the dust that settles with the ages. The sombre greenish colored paper on the walls has been smoked a dismal dirty grey, and all pervading is the smell of soup made out of onions and fat chunks of meat. + + The medium brought Mrs. Lehntman and our Anna into this eating room, after she had found out what it was they wanted. They all three sat around the table and then the medium went into her trance. + + The medium first closed her eyes and then they opened very wide and lifeless. She took a number of deep breaths, choked several times and swallowed very hard. She waved her hand back every now and then, and she began to speak in a monotonous slow, even tone. + + "I see--I see--don't crowd so on me,--I see--I see--too many forms--don't crowd so on me--I see--I see--you are thinking of something--you don't know whether you want to do it now. I see--I see--don't crowd so on me--I see--I see--you are not sure,--I see--I see--a house with trees around it,--it is dark--it is evening--I see--I see--you go in the house--I see--I see you come out--it will be all right--you go and do it--do what you are not certain about--it will come out all right--it is best and you should do it now." + + She stopped, she made deep gulps, her eyes rolled back into her head, she swallowed hard and then she was her former dingy and bland self again. + + "Did you get what you wanted that the spirit should tell you?" the woman asked. Mrs. Lehntman answered yes, it was just what her friend had wanted so bad to know. Anna was uneasy in this house with superstition, with fear of her good priest, and with disgust at all the dirt and grease, but she was most content for now she knew what it was best for her to do. + + Anna paid the woman for her work and then they came away. + + "There Anna didn't I tell you how it would all be? You see the spirit says so too. You must take the place with Miss Mathilda, that is what I told you was the best thing for you to do. We go out and see her where she lives to-night. Ain't you glad, Anna, that I took you to this place, so you know now what you will do?" + + Mrs. Lehntman and Anna went that evening to see Miss Mathilda. Miss Mathilda was staying with a friend who lived in a house that did have trees about. Miss Mathilda was not there herself to talk with Anna. + + If it had not been that it was evening, and so dark, and that this house had trees all round about, and that Anna found herself going in and coming out just as the woman that day said that she would do, had it not all been just as the medium said, the good Anna would never have taken the place with Miss Mathilda. + + Anna did not see Miss Mathilda and she did not like the friend who acted in her place. + + This friend was a dark, sweet, gentle little mother woman, very easy to be pleased in her own work and very good to servants, but she felt that acting for her young friend, the careless Miss Mathilda, she must be very careful to examine well and see that all was right and that Anna would surely do the best she knew. She asked Anna all about her ways and her intentions and how much she would spend, and how often she went out and whether she could wash and cook and sew. + + The good Anna set her teeth fast to endure and would hardly answer anything at all. Mrs. Lehntman made it all go fairly well. + + The good Anna was all worked up with her resentment, and Miss Mathilda's friend did not think that she would do. + + However, Miss Mathilda was willing to begin and as for Anna, she knew that the medium said it must be so. Mrs. Lehntman, too, was sure, and said she knew that this was the best thing for Anna now to do. So Anna sent word at last to Miss Mathilda, that if she wanted her, she would try if it would do. + + So Anna began a new life taking care of Miss Mathilda. + + Anna fixed up the little red brick house where Miss Mathilda was going to live and made it very pleasant, clean and nice. She brought over her dog, Baby, and her parrot. She hired Lizzie for a second girl to be with her and soon they were all content. All except the parrot, for Miss Mathilda did not like its scream. Baby was all right but not the parrot. But then Anna never really loved the parrot, and so she gave it to the Drehten girls to keep. + + Before Anna could really rest content with Miss Mathilda, she had to tell her good german priest what it was that she had done, and how very bad it was that she had been and how she would never do so again. + + Anna really did believe with all her might. It was her fortune never to live with people who had any faith, but then that never worried Anna. She prayed for them always as she should, and she was very sure that they were good. The doctor loved to tease her with his doubts and Miss Mathilda liked to do so too, but with the tolerant spirit of her church, Anna never thought that such things were bad for them to do. + + Anna found it hard to always know just why it was that things went wrong. Sometimes her glasses broke and then she knew that she had not done her duty by the church, just in the way that she should do. + + Sometimes she was so hard at work that she would not go to mass. Something always happened then. Anna's temper grew irritable and her ways uncertain and distraught. Everybody suffered and then her glasses broke. That was always very bad because they cost so much to fix. Still in a way it always ended Anna's troubles, because she knew then that all this was because she had been bad. As long as she could scold it might be just the bad ways of all the thoughtless careless world, but when her glasses broke that made it clear. That meant that it was she herself who had been bad. + + No, it was no use for Anna not to do the way she should, for things always then went wrong and finally cost money to make whole, and this was the hardest thing for the good Anna to endure. + + Anna almost always did her duty. She made confession and her mission whenever it was right. Of course she did not tell the father when she deceived people for their good, or when she wanted them to give something for a little less. + + When Anna told such histories to her doctor and later to her cherished Miss Mathilda, her eyes were always full of humor and enjoyment as she explained that she had said it so, and now she would not have to tell the father for she had not really made a sin. + + But going to a fortune teller Anna knew was really bad. That had to be told to the father just as it was and penance had then to be done. + + Anna did this and now her new life was well begun, making Miss Mathilda and the rest do just the way they should. + + Yes, taking care of Miss Mathilda were the happiest days of all the good Anna's strong hard working life. + + With Miss Mathilda Anna did it all. The clothes, the house, the hats, what she should wear and when and what was always best for her to do. There was nothing Miss Mathilda would not let Anna manage, and only be too glad if she would do. + + Anna scolded and cooked and sewed and saved so well, that Miss Mathilda had so much to spend, that it kept Anna still busier scolding all the time about the things she bought, that made so much work for Anna and the other girl to do. But for all the scolding, Anna was proud almost to bursting of her cherished Miss Mathilda with all her knowledge and her great possessions, and the good Anna was always telling of it all to everybody that she knew. + + Yes these were the happiest days of all her life with Anna, even though with her friends there were great sorrows. But these sorrows did not hurt the good Anna now, as they had done in the years that went before. + + Miss Mathilda was not a romance in the good Anna's life, but Anna gave her so much strong affection that it almost filled her life as full. + + It was well for the good Anna that her life with Miss Mathilda was so happy, for now in these days, Mrs. Lehntman went altogether bad. The doctor she had learned to know, was too certainly an evil as well as a mysterious man, and he had power over the widow and midwife, Mrs. Lehntman. + + Anna never saw Mrs. Lehntman at all now any more. + + Mrs. Lehntman had borrowed some more money and had given Anna a note then for it all, and after that Anna never saw her any more. Anna now stopped altogether going to the Lehntmans'. Julia, the tall, gawky, good, blonde, stupid daughter, came often to see Anna, but she could tell little of her mother. + + It certainly did look very much as if Mrs. Lehntman had now gone altogether bad. This was a great grief to the good Anna, but not so great a grief as it would have been had not Miss Mathilda meant so much to her now. + + Mrs. Lehntman went from bad to worse. The doctor, the mysterious and evil man, got into trouble doing things that were not right to do. + + Mrs. Lehntman was mixed up in this affair. + + It was just as bad as it could be, but they managed, both the doctor and Mrs. Lehntman, finally to come out safe. + + Everybody was so sorry about Mrs. Lehntman. She had been really a good woman before she met this doctor, and even now she certainly had not been really bad. + + For several years now Anna never even saw her friend. + + But Anna always found new people to befriend, people who, in the kindly fashion of the poor, used up her savings and then gave promises in place of payments. Anna never really thought that these people would be good, but when they did not do the way they should, and when they did not pay her back the money she had loaned, and never seemed the better for her care, then Anna would grow bitter with the world. + + No, none of them had any sense of what was the right way for them to do. So Anna would repeat in her despair. + + The poor are generous with their things. They give always what they have, but with them to give or to receive brings with it no feeling that they owe the giver for the gift. + + Even a thrifty german Anna was ready to give all that she had saved, and so not be sure that she would have enough to take care of herself if she fell sick, or for old age, when she could not work. Save and you will have the money you have saved was true only for the day of saving, even for a thrifty german Anna. There was no certain way to have it for old age, for the taking care of what is saved can never be relied on, for it must always be in strangers' hands in a bank or in investments by a friend. + + And so when any day one might need life and help from others of the working poor, there was no way a woman who had a little saved could say them no. + + So the good Anna gave her all to friends and strangers, to children, dogs and cats, to anything that asked or seemed to need her care. + + It was in this way that Anna came to help the barber and his wife who lived around the corner, and who somehow could never make ends meet. They worked hard, were thrifty, had no vices, but the barber was one of them who never can make money. Whoever owed him money did not pay. Whenever he had a chance at a good job he fell sick and could not take it. It was never his own fault that he had trouble, but he never seemed to make things come out right. + + His wife was a blonde, thin, pale, german little woman, who bore her children very hard, and worked too soon, and then till she was sick. She too, always had things that went wrong. + + They both needed constant help and patience, and the good Anna gave both to them all the time. + + Another woman who needed help from the good Anna, was one who was in trouble from being good to others. + + This woman's husband's brother, who was very good, worked in a shop where there was a Bohemian, who was getting sick with consumption. This man got so much worse he could not do his work, but he was not so sick that he could stay in a hospital. So this woman had him living there with her. He was not a nice man, nor was he thankful for all the woman did for him. He was cross to her two children and made a great mess always in her house. The doctor said he must have many things to eat, and the woman and the brother of the husband got them for him. + + There was no friendship, no affection, no liking even for the man this woman cared for, no claim of common country or of kin, but in the kindly fashion of the poor this woman gave her all and made her house a nasty place, and for a man who was not even grateful for the gift. + + Then, of course, the woman herself got into trouble. Her husband's brother was now married. Her husband lost his job. She did not have the money for the rent. It was the good Anna's savings that were handy. + + So it went on. Sometimes a little girl, sometimes a big one was in trouble and Anna heard of them and helped them to find places. + + Stray dogs and cats Anna always kept until she found them homes. She was always careful to learn whether these people would be good to animals. + + Out of the whole collection of stray creatures, it was the young Peter and the jolly little Rags, Anna could not find it in her heart to part with. These became part of the household of the good Anna's Miss Mathilda. + + Peter was a very useless creature, a foolish, silly, cherished, coward male. It was wild to see him rush up and down in the back yard, barking and bouncing at the wall, when there was some dog out beyond, but when the very littlest one there was got inside of the fence and only looked at Peter, Peter would retire to his Anna and blot himself out between her skirts. + + When Peter was left downstairs alone, he howled. "I am all alone," he wailed, and then the good Anna would have to come and fetch him up. Once when Anna stayed a few nights in a house not far away, she had to carry Peter all the way, for Peter was afraid when he found himself on the street outside his house. Peter was a good sized creature and he sat there and he howled, and the good Anna carried him all the way in her own arms. He was a coward was this Peter, but he had kindly, gentle eyes and a pretty collie head, and his fur was very thick and white and nice when he was washed. And then Peter never strayed away, and he looked out of his nice eyes and he liked it when you rubbed him down, and he forgot you when you went away, and he barked whenever there was any noise. + + When he was a little pup he had one night been put into the yard and that was all of his origin she knew. The good Anna loved him well and spoiled him as a good german mother always does her son. + + Little Rags was very different in his nature. He was a lively creature made out of ends of things, all fluffy and dust color, and he was always bounding up into the air and darting all about over and then under silly Peter and often straight into solemn fat, blind, sleepy Baby, and then in a wild rush after some stray cat. + + Rags was a pleasant, jolly little fellow. The good Anna liked him very well, but never with her strength as she loved her good looking coward, foolish young man, Peter. + + Baby was the dog of her past life and she held Anna with old ties of past affection. Peter was the spoiled, good looking young man, of her middle age, and Rags was always something of a toy. She liked him but he never struck in very deep. Rags had strayed in somehow one day and then when no home for him was quickly found, he had just stayed right there. + + It was a very happy family there all together in the kitchen, the good Anna and Sally and old Baby and young Peter and the jolly little Rags. + + The parrot had passed out of Anna's life. She had really never loved the parrot and now she hardly thought to ask for him, even when she visited the Drehtens. + + Mrs. Drehten was the friend Anna always went to, for her Sundays. She did not get advice from Mrs. Drehten as she used to from the widow, Mrs. Lehntman, for Mrs. Drehten was a mild, worn, unaggressive nature that never cared to influence or to lead. But they could mourn together for the world these two worn, working german women, for its sadness and its wicked ways of doing. Mrs. Drehten knew so well what one could suffer. + + Things did not go well in these days with the Drehtens. The children were all good, but the father with his temper and his spending kept everything from being what it should. + + Poor Mrs. Drehten still had trouble with her tumor. She could hardly do any work now any more. Mrs. Drehten was a large, worn, patient german woman, with a soft face, lined, yellow brown in color and the look that comes from a german husband to obey, and many solid girls and boys to bear and rear, and from being always on one's feet and never having any troubles cured. + + Mrs. Drehten was always getting worse, and now the doctor thought it would be best to take the tumor out. + + It was no longer Dr. Shonjen who treated Mrs. Drehten. They all went now to a good old german doctor they all knew. + + "You see, Miss Mathilda," Anna said, "All the old german patients don't go no more now to Doctor. I stayed with him just so long as I could stand it, but now he is moved away up town too far for poor people, and his wife, she holds her head up so and always is spending so much money just for show, and so he can't take right care of us poor people any more. Poor man, he has got always to be thinking about making money now. I am awful sorry about Doctor, Miss Mathilda, but he neglected Mrs. Drehten shameful when she had her trouble, so now I never see him any more. Doctor Herman is a good, plain, german doctor and he would never do things so, and Miss Mathilda, Mrs. Drehten is coming in to-morrow to see you before she goes to the hospital for her operation. She could not go comfortable till she had seen you first to see what you would say." + + All Anna's friends reverenced the good Anna's cherished Miss Mathilda. How could they not do so and still remain friends with the good Anna? Miss Mathilda rarely really saw them but they were always sending flowers and words of admiration through her Anna. Every now and then Anna would bring one of them to Miss Mathilda for advice. + + It is wonderful how poor people love to take advice from people who are friendly and above them, from people who read in books and who are good. + + Miss Mathilda saw Mrs. Drehten and told her she was glad that she was going to the hospital for operation for that surely would be best, and so good Mrs. Drehten's mind was set at rest. + + Mrs. Drehten's tumor came out very well. Mrs. Drehten was afterwards never really well, but she could do her work a little better, and be on her feet and yet not get so tired. + + And so Anna's life went on, taking care of Miss Mathilda and all her clothes and goods, and being good to every one that asked or seemed to need her help. + + Now, slowly, Anna began to make it up with Mrs. Lehntman. They could never be as they had been before. Mrs, Lehntman could never be again the romance in the good Anna's life, but they could be friends again, and Anna could help all the Lehntmans in their need. This slowly came about. + + Mrs. Lehntman had now left the evil and mysterious man who had been the cause of all her trouble. She had given up, too, the new big house that she had taken. Since her trouble her practice had been very quiet. Still she managed to do fairly well. She began to talk of paying the good Anna. This, however, had not gotten very far. + + Anna saw Mrs. Lehntman a good deal now. Mrs. Lehntman's crisp, black, curly hair had gotten streaked with gray. Her dark, full, good looking face had lost its firm outline, gone flabby and a little worn. She had grown stouter and her clothes did not look very nice. She was as bland as ever in her ways, and as diffuse as always in her attention, but through it all there was uneasiness and fear and uncertainty lest some danger might be near. + + She never said a word of her past life to the good Anna, but it was very plain to see that her experience had not left her easy, nor yet altogether free. + + It had been hard for this good woman, for Mrs. Lehntman was really a good woman, it had been a very hard thing for this german woman to do what everybody knew and thought was wrong. Mrs. Lehntman was strong and she had courage, but it had been very hard to bear. Even the good Anna did not speak to her with freedom. There always remained a mystery and a depression in Mrs. Lehntman's affair. + + And now the blonde, foolish, awkward daughter, Julia was in trouble. During the years the mother gave her no attention, Julia kept company with a young fellow who was a clerk somewhere in a store down in the city. He was a decent, dull young fellow, who did not make much money and could never save it for he had an old mother he supported. He and Julia had been keeping company for several years and now it was needful that they should be married. But then how could they marry? He did not make enough to start them and to keep on supporting his old mother too. Julia was not used to working much and she said, and she was stubborn, that she would not live with Charley's dirty, cross, old mother. Mrs. Lehntman had no money. She was just beginning to get on her feet. It was of course, the good Anna's savings that were handy. + + However it paid Anna to bring about this marriage, paid her in scoldings and in managing the dull, long, awkward Julia, and her good, patient, stupid Charley. Anna loved to buy things cheap, and fix up a new place. + + Julia and Charley were soon married and things went pretty well with them. Anna did not approve their slack, expensive ways of doing. + + "No Miss Mathilda," she would say, "The young people nowadays have no sense for saving and putting money by so they will have something to use when they need it. There's Julia and her Charley. I went in there the other day, Miss Mathilda, and they had a new table with a marble top and on it they had a grand new plush album. 'Where you get that album?' I asked Julia. 'Oh, Charley he gave it to me for my birthday,' she said, and I asked her if it was paid for and she said not all yet but it would be soon. Now I ask you what business have they Miss Mathilda, when they ain't paid for anything they got already, what business have they to be buying new things for her birthdays. Julia she don't do no work, she just sits around and thinks how she can spend the money, and Charley he never puts one cent by. I never see anything like the people nowadays Miss Mathilda, they don't seem to have any sense of being careful about money. Julia and Charley when they have any children they won't have nothing to bring them up with right. I said that to Julia, Miss Mathilda, when she showed me those silly things that Charley bought her, and she just said in her silly, giggling way, perhaps they won't have any children. I told her she ought to be ashamed of talking so, but I don't know, Miss Mathilda, the young people nowadays have no sense at all of what's the right way for them to do, and perhaps its better if they don't have any children, and then Miss Mathilda you know there is Mrs. Lehntman. You know she regular adopted little Johnny just so she could pay out some more money just as if she didn't have trouble enough taking care of her own children. No Miss Mathilda, I never see how people can do things so. People don't seem to have no sense of right or wrong or anything these days Miss Mathilda, they are just careless and thinking always of themselves and how they can always have a happy time. No, Miss Mathilda I don't see how people can go on and do things so." + + The good Anna could not understand the careless and bad ways of all the world and always she grew bitter with it all. No, not one of them had any sense of what was the right way for them to do. + + Anna's past life was now drawing to an end. Her old blind dog, Baby, was sick and like to die. Baby had been the first gift from her friend the widow, Mrs. Lehntman in the old days when Anna had been with Miss Mary Wadsmith, and when these two women had first come together. + + Through all the years of change, Baby had stayed with the good Anna, growing old and fat and blind and lazy. Baby had been active and a ratter when she was young, but that was so long ago it was forgotten, and for many years now Baby had wanted only her warm basket and her dinner. + + Anna in her active life found need of others, of Peter and the funny little Rags, but always Baby was the eldest and held her with the ties of old affection. Anna was harsh when the young ones tried to keep poor Baby out and use her basket. Baby had been blind now for some years as dogs get, when they are no longer active. She got weak and fat and breathless and she could not even stand long any more. Anna had always to see that she got her dinner and that the young active ones did not deprive her. + + Baby did not die with a real sickness. She just got older and more blind and coughed and then more quiet, and then slowly one bright summer's day she died. + + There is nothing more dreary than old age in animals. Somehow it is all wrong that they should have grey hair and withered skin, and blind old eyes, and decayed and useless teeth. An old man or an old woman almost always has some tie that seems to bind them to the younger, realer life. They have children or the remembrance of old duties, but a dog that's old and so cut off from all its world of struggle, is like a dreary, deathless Struldbrug, the dreary dragger on of death through life. + + And so one day old Baby died. It was dreary, more than sad, for the good Anna. She did not want the poor old beast to linger with its weary age, and blind old eyes and dismal shaking cough, but this death left Anna very empty. She had the foolish young man Peter, and the jolly little Rags for comfort, but Baby had been the only one that could remember. + + The good Anna wanted a real graveyard for her Baby, but this could not be in a Christian country, and so Anna all alone took her old friend done up in decent wrappings and put her into the ground in some quiet place that Anna knew of. + + The good Anna did not weep for poor old Baby. Nay, she had not time even to feel lonely, for with the good Anna it was sorrow upon sorrow. She was now no longer to keep house for Miss Mathilda. + + When Anna had first come to Miss Mathilda she had known that it might only be for a few years, for Miss Mathilda was given to much wandering and often changed her home, and found new places where she went to live. The good Anna did not then think much about this, for when she first went to Miss Mathilda she had not thought that she would like it and so she had not worried about staying. Then in those happy years that they had been together, Anna had made herself forget it. This last year when she knew that it was coming she had tried hard to think it would not happen. + + "We won't talk about it now Miss Mathilda, perhaps we all be dead by then," she would say when Miss Mathilda tried to talk it over. Or, "If we live till then Miss Mathilda, perhaps you will be staying on right here." + + No, the good Anna could not talk as if this thing were real, it was too weary to be once more left with strangers. + + Both the good Anna and her cherished Miss Mathilda tried hard to think that this would not really happen. Anna made missions and all kinds of things to keep her Miss Mathilda and Miss Mathilda thought out all the ways to see if the good Anna could not go with her, but neither the missions nor the plans had much success. Miss Mathilda would go, and she was going far away to a new country where Anna could not live, for she would be too lonesome. + + There was nothing that these two could do but part. Perhaps we all be dead by then, the good Anna would repeat, but even that did not really happen. If we all live till then Miss Mathilda, came out truer. They all did live till then, all except poor old blind Baby, and they simply had to part. + + Poor Anna and poor Miss Mathilda. They could not look at each other that last day. Anna could not keep herself busy working. She just went in and out and sometimes scolded. + + Anna could not make up her mind what she should do now for her future. She said that she would for a while keep this little red brick house that they had lived in. Perhaps she might just take in a few boarders. She did not know, she would write about it later and tell it all to Miss Mathilda. + + The dreary day dragged out and then all was ready and Miss Mathilda left to take her train. Anna stood strained and pale and dry eyed on the white stone steps of the little red brick house that they had lived in. The last thing Miss Mathilda heard was the good Anna bidding foolish Peter say good bye and be sure to remember Miss Mathilda. + + + + + + Part III + + THE DEATH OF THE GOOD ANNA + + Every one who had known of Miss Mathilda wanted the good Anna now to take a place with them, for they all knew how well Anna could take care of people and all their clothes and goods. Anna too could always go to Curden to Miss Mary Wadsmith, but none of all these ways seemed very good to Anna. + + It was not now any longer that she wanted to stay near Mrs. Lehntman. There was no one now that made anything important, but Anna was certain that she did not want to take a place where she would be under some new people. No one could ever be for Anna as had been her cherished Miss Mathilda. No one could ever again so freely let her do it all. It would be better Anna thought in her strong strained weary body, it would be better just to keep on there in the little red brick house that was all furnished, and make a living taking in some boarders. Miss Mathilda had let her have the things, so it would not cost any money to begin. She could perhaps manage to live on so. She could do all the work and do everything as she thought best, and she was too weary with the changes to do more than she just had to, to keep living. So she stayed on in the house where they had lived, and she found some men, she would not take in women, who took her rooms and who were her boarders. + + Things soon with Anna began to be less dreary. She was very popular with her few boarders. They loved her scoldings and the good things she made for them to eat. They made good jokes and laughed loud and always did whatever Anna wanted, and soon the good Anna got so that she liked it very well. Not that she did not always long for Miss Mathilda. She hoped and waited and was very certain that sometime, in one year or in another Miss Mathilda would come back, and then of course would want her, and then she could take all good care of her again. + + Anna kept all Miss Mathilda's things in the best order. The boarders were well scolded if they ever made a scratch on Miss Mathilda's table. + + Some of the boarders were hearty good south german fellows and Anna always made them go to mass. One boarder was a lusty german student who was studying in Bridgepoint to be a doctor. He was Anna's special favourite and she scolded him as she used to her old doctor so that he always would be good. Then, too, this cheery fellow always sang when he was washing, and that was what Miss Mathilda always used to do. Anna's heart grew warm again with this young fellow who seemed to bring back to her everything she needed. + + And so Anna's life in these days was not all unhappy. She worked and scolded, she had her stray dogs and cats and people, who all asked and seemed to need her care, and she had hearty german fellows who loved her scoldings and ate so much of the good things that she knew so well the way to make. + + No, the good Anna's life in these days was not all unhappy. She did not see her old friends much, she was too busy, but once in a great while she took a Sunday afternoon and went to see good Mrs. Drehten. + + The only trouble was that Anna hardly made a living. She charged so little for her board and gave her people such good things to eat, that she could only just make both ends meet. The good german priest to whom she always told her troubles tried to make her have the boarders pay a little higher, and Miss Mathilda always in her letters urged her to this thing, but the good Anna somehow could not do it. Her boarders were nice men but she knew they did not have much money, and then she could not raise on those who had been with her and she could not ask the new ones to pay higher, when those who were already there were paying just what they had paid before. So Anna let it go just as she had begun it. She worked and worked all day and thought all night how she could save, and with all the work she just managed to keep living. She could not make enough to lay any money by. + + Anna got so little money that she had all the work to do herself. She could not pay even the little Sally enough to keep her with her. + + Not having little Sally nor having any one else working with her, made it very hard for Anna ever to go out, for she never thought that it was right to leave a house all empty. Once in a great while of a Sunday, Sally who was now working in a factory would come and stay in the house for the good Anna, who would then go out and spend the afternoon with Mrs. Drehten. + + No, Anna did not see her old friends much any more. She went sometimes to see her half brother and his wife and her nieces, and they always came to her on her birthdays to give presents, and her half brother never left her out of his festive raisined bread giving progresses. But these relatives of hers had never meant very much to the good Anna. Anna always did her duty by them all, and she liked her half brother very well and the loaves of raisined bread that he supplied her were most welcome now, and Anna always gave her god daughter and her sister handsome presents, but no one in this family had ever made a way inside to Anna's feelings. + + Mrs. Lehntman she saw very rarely. It is hard to build up new on an old friendship when in that friendship there has been bitter disillusion. They did their best, both these women to be friends, but they were never able to again touch one another nearly. There were too many things between them that they could not speak of, things that had never been explained nor yet forgiven. The good Anna still did her best for foolish Julia and still every now and then saw Mrs. Lehntman, but this family had now lost all its real hold on Anna. + + Mrs. Drehten was now the best friend that Anna knew. Here there was never any more than the mingling of their sorrows. They talked over all the time the best way for Mrs. Drehten now to do; poor Mrs. Drehten who with her chief trouble, her bad husband, had really now no way that she could do. She just had to work and to be patient and to love her children and be very quiet. She always had a soothing mother influence on the good Anna who with her irritable, strained, worn-out body would come and sit by Mrs. Drehten and talk all her troubles over. + + Of all the friends that the good Anna had had in these twenty years in Bridgepoint, the good father and patient Mrs. Drehten were the only ones that were now near to Anna and with whom she could talk her troubles over. + + Anna worked, and thought, and saved, and scolded, and took care of all the boarders, and of Peter and of Rags, and all the others. There was never any end to Anna's effort and she grew always more tired, more pale yellow, and in her face more thin and worn and worried. Sometimes she went farther in not being well, and then she went to see Dr. Herman who had operated on good Mrs. Drehten. + + The things that Anna really needed were to rest sometimes and eat more so that she could get stronger, but these were the last things that Anna could bring herself to do. Anna could never take a rest. She must work hard through the summer as well as through the winter, else she could never make both ends meet. The doctor gave her medicines to make her stronger but these did not seem to do much good. + + Anna grew always more tired, her headaches came oftener and harder, and she was now almost always feeling very sick. She could not sleep much in the night. The dogs with their noises disturbed her and everything in her body seemed to pain her. + + The doctor and the good father tried often to make her give herself more care. Mrs. Drehten told her that she surely would not get well unless for a little while she would stop working. Anna would then promise to take care, to rest in bed a little longer and to eat more so that she would get stronger, but really how could Anna eat when she always did the cooking and was so tired of it all, before it was half ready for the table? + + Anna's only friendship now was with good Mrs. Drehten who was too gentle and too patient to make a stubborn faithful german Anna ever do the way she should, in the things that were for her own good. + + Anna grew worse all through this second winter. When the summer came the doctor said that she simply could not live on so. He said she must go to his hospital and there he would operate upon her. She would then be well and strong and able to work hard all next winter. + + Anna for some time would not listen. She could not do this so, for she had her house all furnished and she simply could not let it go. At last a woman came and said she would take care of Anna's boarders and then Anna said that she was prepared to go. + + Anna went to the hospital for her operation. Mrs. Drehten was herself not well but she came into the city, so that some friend would be with the good Anna. Together, then, they went to this place where the doctor had done so well by Mrs. Drehten. + + In a few days they had Anna ready. Then they did the operation, and then the good Anna with her strong, strained, worn-out body died. + + Mrs. Drehten sent word of her death to Miss Mathilda. + + "Dear Miss Mathilda," wrote Mrs. Drehten, "Miss Annie died in the hospital yesterday after a hard operation. She was talking about you and Doctor and Miss Mary Wadsmith all the time. She said she hoped you would take Peter and the little Rags to keep when you came back to America to live. I will keep them for you here Miss Mathilda. Miss Annie died easy, Miss Mathilda, and sent you her love." + + FINIS + + + + MELANCTHA + + EACH ONE AS SHE MAY + + Rose Johnson made it very hard to bring her baby to its birth. + + Melanctha Herbert who was Rose Johnson's friend, did everything that any woman could. She tended Rose, and she was patient, submissive, soothing, and untiring, while the sullen, childish, cowardly, black Rosie grumbled and fussed and howled and made herself to be an abomination and like a simple beast. + + The child though it was healthy after it was born, did not live long. Rose Johnson was careless and negligent and selfish, and when Melanctha had to leave for a few days, the baby died. Rose Johnson had liked the baby well enough and perhaps she just forgot it for awhile, anyway the child was dead and Rose and Sam her husband were very sorry but then these things came so often in the negro world in Bridgepoint, that they neither of them thought about it very long. + + Rose Johnson and Melanctha Herbert had been friends now for some years. Rose had lately married Sam Johnson a decent honest kindly fellow, a deck hand on a coasting steamer. + + Melanctha Herbert had not yet been really married. + + Rose Johnson was a real black, tall, well built, sullen, stupid, childlike, good looking negress. She laughed when she was happy and grumbled and was sullen with everything that troubled. + + Rose Johnson was a real black negress but she had been brought up quite like their own child by white folks. + + Rose laughed when she was happy but she had not the wide, abandoned laughter that makes the warm broad glow of negro sunshine. Rose was never joyous with the earth-born, boundless joy of negroes. Hers was just ordinary, any sort of woman laughter. + + Rose Johnson was careless and was lazy, but she had been brought up by white folks and she needed decent comfort. Her white training had only made for habits, not for nature. Rose had the simple, promiscuous immorality of the black people. + + Rose Johnson and Melanctha Herbert like many of the twos with women were a curious pair to be such friends. + + Melanctha Herbert was a graceful, pale yellow, intelligent, attractive negress. She had not been raised like Rose by white folks but then she had been half made with real white blood. + + She and Rose Johnson were both of the better sort of negroes, there, in Bridgepoint. + + "No, I ain't no common nigger," said Rose Johnson, "for I was raised by white folks, and Melanctha she is so bright and learned so much in school, she ain't no common nigger either, though she ain't got no husband to be married to like I am to Sam Johnson." + + Why did the subtle, intelligent, attractive, half white girl Melanctha Herbert love and do for and demean herself in service to this coarse, decent, sullen, ordinary, black childish Rose, and why was this unmoral, promiscuous, shiftless Rose married, and that's not so common either, to a good man of the negroes, while Melanctha with her white blood and attraction and her desire for a right position had not yet been really married. + + Sometimes the thought of how all her world was made, filled the complex, desiring Melanctha with despair. She wondered, often, how she could go on living when she was so blue. + + Melanctha told Rose one day how a woman whom she knew had killed herself because she was so blue. Melanctha said, sometimes, she thought this was the best thing for her herself to do. + + Rose Johnson did not see it the least bit that way. + + "I don't see Melanctha why you should talk like you would kill yourself just because you're blue. I'd never kill myself Melanctha just 'cause I was blue. I'd maybe kill somebody else Melanctha 'cause I was blue, but I'd never kill myself. If I ever killed myself Melanctha it'd be by accident, and if I ever killed myself by accident Melanctha, I'd be awful sorry." + + Rose Johnson and Melanctha Herbert had first met, one night, at church. Rose Johnson did not care much for religion. She had not enough emotion to be really roused by a revival. Melanctha Herbert had not come yet to know how to use religion. She was still too complex with desire. However, the two of them in negro fashion went very often to the negro church, along with all their friends, and they slowly came to know each other very well. + + Rose Johnson had been raised not as a servant but quite like their own child by white folks. Her mother who had died when Rose was still a baby, had been a trusted servant in the family. Rose was a cute, attractive, good looking little black girl and these people had no children of their own and so they kept Rose in their house. + + As Rose grew older she drifted from her white folks back to the colored people, and she gradually no longer lived in the old house. Then it happened that these people went away to some other town to live, and somehow Rose stayed behind in Bridgepoint. Her white folks left a little money to take care of Rose, and this money she got every little while. + + Rose now in the easy fashion of the poor lived with one woman in her house, and then for no reason went and lived with some other woman in her house. All this time, too, Rose kept company, and was engaged, first to this colored man and then to that, and always she made sure she was engaged, for Rose had strong the sense of proper conduct. + + "No, I ain't no common nigger just to go around with any man, nor you Melanctha shouldn't neither," she said one day when she was telling the complex and less sure Melanctha what was the right way for her to do. "No Melanctha, I ain't no common nigger to do so, for I was raised by white folks. You know very well Melanctha that I'se always been engaged to them." + + And so Rose lived on, always comfortable and rather decent and very lazy and very well content. + + After she had lived some time this way, Rose thought it would be nice and very good in her position to get regularly really married. She had lately met Sam Johnson somewhere, and she liked him and she knew he was a good man, and then he had a place where he worked every day and got good wages. Sam Johnson liked Rose very well and he was quite ready to be married. One day they had a grand real wedding and were married. Then with Melanctha Herbert's help to do the sewing and the nicer work, they furnished comfortably a little red brick house. Sam then went back to his work as deck hand on a coasting steamer, and Rose stayed home in her house and sat and bragged to all her friends how nice it was to be married really to a husband. + + Life went on very smoothly with them all the year. Rose was lazy but not dirty and Sam was careful but not fussy, and then there was Melanctha to come in every day and help to keep things neat. + + When Rose's baby was coming to be born, Rose came to stay in the house where Melanctha Herbert lived just then, with a big good natured colored woman who did washing. + + Rose went there to stay, so that she might have the doctor from the hospital near by to help her have the baby, and then, too, Melanctha could attend to her while she was sick. + + Here the baby was born, and here it died, and then Rose went back to her house again with Sam. + + Melanctha Herbert had not made her life all simple like Rose Johnson. Melanctha had not found it easy with herself to make her wants and what she had, agree. + + Melanctha Herbert was always losing what she had in wanting all the things she saw. Melanctha was always being left when she was not leaving others. + + Melanctha Herbert always loved too hard and much too often. She was always full with mystery and subtle movements and denials and vague distrusts and complicated disillusions. Then Melanctha would be sudden and impulsive and unbounded in some faith, and then she would suffer and be strong in her repression. + + Melanctha Herbert was always seeking rest and quiet, and always she could only find new ways to be in trouble. + + Melanctha wondered often how it was she did not kill herself when she was so blue. Often she thought this would be really the best way for her to do. + + Melanctha Herbert had been raised to be religious, by her mother. Melanctha had not liked her mother very well. This mother, 'Mis' Herbert, as her neighbors called her, had been a sweet appearing and dignified and pleasant, pale yellow, colored woman. 'Mis' Herbert had always been a little wandering and mysterious and uncertain in her ways. + + Melanctha was pale yellow and mysterious and a little pleasant like her mother, but the real power in Melanctha's nature came through her robust and unpleasant and very unendurable black father. + + Melanctha's father only used to come to where Melanctha and her mother lived, once in a while. + + It was many years now that Melanctha had not heard or seen or known of anything her father did. + + Melanctha Herbert almost always hated her black father, but she loved very well the power in herself that came through him. And so her feeling was really closer to her black coarse father, than her feeling had ever been toward her pale yellow, sweet-appearing mother. The things she had in her of her mother never made her feel respect. + + Melanctha Herbert had not loved herself in childhood. All of her youth was bitter to remember. + + Melanctha had not loved her father and her mother and they had found it very troublesome to have her. + + Melanctha's mother and her father had been regularly married. Melanctha's father was a big black virile negro. He only came once in a while to where Melanctha and her mother lived, but always that pleasant, sweet-appearing, pale yellow woman, mysterious and uncertain and wandering in her ways, was close in sympathy and thinking to her big black virile husband. + + James Herbert was a common, decent enough, colored workman, brutal and rough to his one daughter, but then she was a most disturbing child to manage. + + The young Melanctha did not love her father and her mother, and she had a break neck courage, and a tongue that could be very nasty. Then, too, Melanctha went to school and was very quick in all the learning, and she knew very well how to use this knowledge to annoy her parents who knew nothing. + + Melanctha Herbert had always had a break neck courage. Melanctha always loved to be with horses; she loved to do wild things, to ride the horses and to break and tame them. + + Melanctha, when she was a little girl, had had a good chance to live with horses. Near where Melanctha and her mother lived was the stable of the Bishops, a rich family who always had fine horses. + + John, the Bishops' coachman, liked Melanctha very well and he always let her do anything she wanted with the horses. John was a decent, vigorous mulatto with a prosperous house and wife and children. Melanctha Herbert was older than any of his children. She was now a well grown girl of twelve and just beginning as a woman. + + James Herbert, Melanctha's father, knew this John, the Bishops' coachman very well. + + One day James Herbert came to where his wife and daughter lived, and he was furious. + + "Where's that Melanctha girl of yours," he said fiercely, "if she is to the Bishops' stables again, with that man John, I swear I kill her. Why don't you see to that girl better you, you're her mother." + + James Herbert was a powerful, loose built, hard handed, black, angry negro. Herbert never was a joyous negro. Even when he drank with other men, and he did that very, often, he was never really joyous. In the days when he had been most young and free and open, he had never had the wide abandoned laughter that gives the broad glow to negro sunshine. + + His daughter, Melanctha Herbert, later always made a hard forced laughter. She was only strong and sweet and in her nature when she was really deep in trouble, when she was fighting so with all she really had, that she did not use her laughter. This was always true of poor Melanctha who was always so certain that she hated trouble. Melanctha Herbert was always seeking peace and quiet, and she could always only find new ways to get excited. + + James Herbert was often a very angry negro. He was fierce and serious, and he was very certain that he often had good reason to be angry with Melanctha, who knew so well how to be nasty, and to use her learning with a father who knew nothing. + + James Herbert often drank with John, the Bishops' coachman. John in his good nature sometimes tried to soften Herbert's feeling toward Melanctha. Not that Melanctha ever complained to John of her home life or her father. It was never Melanctha's way, even in the midst of her worst trouble to complain to any one of what happened to her, but nevertheless somehow every one who knew Melanctha always knew how much she suffered. It was only while one really loved Melanctha that one understood how to forgive her, that she never once complained nor looked unhappy, and was always handsome and in spirits, and yet one always knew how much she suffered. + + The father, James Herbert, never told his troubles either, and he was so fierce and serious that no one ever thought of asking. + + 'Mis' Herbert as her neighbors called her was never heard even to speak of her husband or her daughter. She was always pleasant, sweet-appearing, mysterious and uncertain, and a little wandering in her ways. + + The Herberts were a silent family with their troubles, but somehow every one who knew them always knew everything that happened. + + The morning of one day when in the evening Herbert and the coachman John were to meet to drink together, Melanctha had to come to the stable joyous and in the very best of humors. Her good friend John on this morning felt very firmly how good and sweet she was and how very much she suffered. + + John was a very decent colored coachman. When he thought about Melanctha it was as if she were the eldest of his children. Really he felt very strongly the power in her of a woman. John's wife always liked Melanctha and she always did all she could to make things pleasant. And Melanctha all her life loved and respected kind and good and considerate people. Melanctha always loved and wanted peace and gentleness and goodness and all her life for herself poor Melanctha could only find new ways to be in trouble. + + This evening after John and Herbert had drunk awhile together, the good John began to tell the father what a fine girl he had for a daughter. Perhaps the good John had been drinking a good deal of liquor, perhaps there was a gleam of something softer than the feeling of a friendly elder in the way John then spoke of Melanctha. There had been a good deal of drinking and John certainly that very morning had felt strongly Melanctha's power as a woman. James Herbert was always a fierce, suspicious, serious negro, and drinking never made him feel more open. He looked very black and evil as he sat and listened while John grew more and more admiring as he talked half to himself, half to the father, of the virtues and the sweetness of Melanctha. + + Suddenly between them there came a moment filled full with strong black curses, and then sharp razors flashed in the black hands, that held them flung backward in the negro fashion, and then for some minutes there was fierce slashing. + + John was a decent, pleasant, good natured, light brown negro, but he knew how to use a razor to do bloody slashing. + + When the two men were pulled apart by the other negroes who were in the room drinking, John had not been much wounded but James Herbert had gotten one good strong cut that went from-his right shoulder down across the front of his whole body. Razor fighting does not wound very deeply, but it makes a cut that looks most nasty, for it is so very bloody. + + Herbert was held by the other negroes until he was cleaned and plastered, and then he was put to bed to sleep off his drink and fighting. + + The next day he came to where his wife and daughter lived and he was furious. + + "Where's that Melanctha, of yours?" he said to his wife, when he saw her. "If she is to the Bishops' stables now with that yellow John, I swear I kill her. A nice way she is going for a decent daughter. Why don't you see to that girl better you, ain't you her mother!" + + Melanctha Herbert had always been old in all her ways and she knew very early how to use her power as a woman, and yet Melanctha with all her inborn intense wisdom was really very ignorant of evil. Melanctha had not yet come to understand what they meant, the things she so often heard around her, and which were just beginning to stir strongly in her. + + Now when her father began fiercely to assail her, she did not really know what it was that he was so furious to force from her. In every way that he could think of in his anger, he tried to make her say a thing she did not really know. She held out and never answered anything he asked her, for Melanctha had a breakneck courage and she just then badly hated her black father. + + When the excitement was all over, Melanctha began to know her power, the power she had so often felt stirring within her and which she now knew she could use to make her stronger. + + James Herbert did not win this fight with his daughter. After awhile he forgot it as he soon forgot John and the cut of his sharp razor. Melanctha almost forgot to hate her father, in her strong interest in the power she now knew she had within her. + + Melanctha did not care much now, any longer, to see John or his wife or even the fine horses. This life was too quiet and accustomed and no longer stirred her to any interest or excitement. + + Melanctha now really was beginning as a woman. She was ready, and she began to search in the streets and in dark corners to discover men and to learn their natures and their various ways of working. + + In these next years Melanctha learned many ways that lead to wisdom. She learned the ways, and dimly in the distance she saw wisdom. These years of learning led very straight to trouble for Melanctha, though in these years Melanctha never did or meant anything that was really wrong. + + Girls who are brought up with care and watching can always find moments to escape into the world, where they may learn the ways that lead to wisdom. For a girl raised like Melanctha Herbert, such escape was always very simple. Often she was alone, sometimes she was with a fellow seeker, and she strayed and stood, sometimes by railroad yards, sometimes on the docks or around new buildings where many men were working. Then when the darkness covered everything all over, she would begin to learn to know this man or that. She would advance, they would respond, and then she would withdraw a little, dimly, and always she did not know what it was that really held her. Sometimes she would almost go over, and then the strength in her of not really knowing, would stop the average man in his endeavor. It was a strange experience of ignorance and power and desire. Melanctha did not know what it was that she so badly wanted. She was afraid, and yet she did not understand that here she really was a coward. + + Boys had never meant much to Melanctha. They had always been too young to content her. Melanctha had a strong respect for any kind of successful power. It was this that always kept Melanctha nearer, in her feeling toward her virile and unendurable black father, than she ever was in her feeling for her pale yellow, sweet-appearing mother. The things she had in her of her mother, never made her feel respect. + + In these young days, it was only men that for Melanctha held anything there was of knowledge and power. It was not from men however that Melanctha learned to really understand this power. + + From the time that Melanctha was twelve until she was sixteen she wandered, always seeking but never more than very dimly seeing wisdom. All this time Melanctha went on with her school learning; she went to school rather longer than do most of the colored children. + + Melanctha's wanderings after wisdom she always had to do in secret and by snatches, for her mother was then still living and 'Mis' Herbert always did some watching, and Melanctha with all her hard courage dreaded that there should be much telling to her father, who came now quite often to where Melanctha lived with her mother. + + In these days Melanctha talked and stood and walked with many kinds of men, but she did not learn to know any of them very deeply. They all supposed her to have world knowledge and experience. They, believing that she knew all, told her nothing, and thinking that she was deciding with them, asked for nothing, and so though Melanctha wandered widely, she was really very safe with all the wandering. + + It was a very wonderful experience this safety of Melanctha in these days of her attempted learning. Melanctha herself did not feel the wonder, she only knew that for her it all had no real value. + + Melanctha all her life was very keen in her sense for real experience. She knew she was not getting what she so badly wanted, but with all her break neck courage Melanctha here was a coward, and so she could not learn to really understand. + + Melanctha liked to wander, and to stand by the railroad yard, and watch the men and the engines and the switches and everything that was busy there, working. Railroad yards are a ceaseless fascination. They satisfy every kind of nature. For the lazy man whose blood flows very slowly, it is a steady soothing world of motion which supplies him with the sense of a strong moving power. He need not work and yet he has it very deeply; he has it even better than the man who works in it or owns it. Then for natures that like to feel emotion without the trouble of having any suffering, it is very nice to get the swelling in the throat, and the fullness, and the heart beats, and all the flutter of excitement that comes as one watches the people come and go, and hears the engine pound and give a long drawn whistle. For a child watching through a hole in the fence above the yard, it is a wonder world of mystery and movement. The child loves all the noise, and then it loves the silence of the wind that comes before the full rush of the pounding train, that bursts out from the tunnel where it lost itself and all its noise in darkness, and the child loves all the smoke, that sometimes comes in rings, and always puffs with fire and blue color. + + For Melanctha the yard was full of the excitement of many men, and perhaps a free and whirling future. + + Melanctha came here very often and watched the men and all the things that were so busy working. The men always had time for, "Hullo sis, do you want to sit on my engine," and, "Hullo, that's a pretty lookin' yaller girl, do you want to come and see him cookin." + + All the colored porters liked Melanctha. They often told her exciting things that had happened; how in the West they went through big tunnels where there was no air to breathe, and then out and winding around edges of great canyons on thin high spindling trestles, and sometimes cars, and sometimes whole trains fell from the narrow bridges, and always up from the dark places death and all kinds of queer devils looked up and laughed in their faces. And then they would tell how sometimes when the train went pounding down steep slippery mountains, great rocks would racket and roll down around them, and sometimes would smash in the car and kill men; and as the porters told these stories their round, black, shining faces would grow solemn, and their color would go grey beneath the greasy black, and their eyes would roll white in the fear and wonder of the things they could scare themselves by telling. + + There was one, big, serious, melancholy, light brown porter who often told Melanctha stories, for he liked the way she had of listening with intelligence and sympathetic feeling, when he told how the white men in the far South tried to kill him because he made one of them who was drunk and called him a damned nigger, and who refused to pay money for his chair to a nigger, get off the train between stations. And then this porter had to give up going to that part of the Southern country, for all the white men swore that if he ever came there again they would surely kill him. + + Melanctha liked this serious, melancholy light brown negro very well, and all her life Melanctha wanted and respected gentleness and goodness, and this man always gave her good advice and serious kindness, and Melanctha felt such things very deeply, but she could never let them help her or affect her to change the ways that always made her keep herself in trouble. + + Melanctha spent many of the last hours of the daylight with the porters and with other men who worked hard, but when darkness came it was always different. Then Melanctha would find herself with the, for her, gentlemanly classes. A clerk, or a young express agent would begin to know her, and they would stand, or perhaps, walk a little while together. + + Melanctha always made herself escape but often it was with an effort. She did not know what it was that she so badly wanted, but with all her courage Melanctha here was a coward, and so she could not learn to understand. + + Melanctha and some man would stand in the evening and would talk together. Sometimes Melanctha would be with another girl and then it was much easier to stay or to escape, for then they could make way for themselves together, and by throwing words and laughter to each other, could keep a man from getting too strong in his attention. + + But when Melanctha was alone, and she was so, very often, she would sometimes come very near to making a long step on the road that leads to wisdom. Some man would learn a good deal about her in the talk, never altogether truly, for Melanctha all her life did not know how to tell a story wholly. She always, and yet not with intention, managed to leave out big pieces which make a story very different, for when it came to what had happened and what she had said and what it was that she had really done, Melanctha never could remember right. The man would sometimes come a little nearer, would detain her, would hold her arm or make his jokes a little clearer, and then Melanctha would always make herself escape. The man thinking that she really had world wisdom would not make his meaning clear, and believing that she was deciding with him he never went so fast that he could stop her when at last she made herself escape. + + And so Melanctha wandered on the edge of wisdom. "Say, Sis, why don't you when you come here stay a little longer?" they would all ask her, and they would hold her for an answer, and she would laugh, and sometimes she did stay longer, but always just in time she made herself escape. + + Melanctha Herbert wanted very much to know and yet she feared the knowledge. As she grew older she often stayed a good deal longer, and sometimes it was almost a balanced struggle, but she always made herself escape. + + Next to the railroad yard it was the shipping docks that Melanctha loved best when she wandered. Often she was alone, sometimes she was with some better kind of black girl, and she would stand a long time and watch the men working at unloading, and see the steamers do their coaling, and she would listen with full feeling to the yowling of the free swinging negroes, as they ran, with their powerful loose jointed bodies and their childish savage yelling, pushing, carrying, pulling great loads from the ships to the warehouses. + + The men would call out, "Say, Sis, look out or we'll come and catch yer," or "Hi, there, you yaller girl, come here and we'll take you sailin'." And then, too, Melanctha would learn to know some of the serious foreign sailors who told her all sorts of wonders, and a cook would sometimes take her and her friends over a ship and show where he made his messes and where the men slept, and where the shops were, and how everything was made by themselves, right there, on ship board. + + Melanctha loved to see these dark and smelly places. She always loved to watch and talk and listen with men who worked hard. But it was never from these rougher people that Melanctha tried to learn the ways that lead to wisdom. In the daylight she always liked to talk with rough men and to listen to their lives and about their work and their various ways of doing, but when the darkness covered everything all over, Melanctha would meet, and stand, and talk with a clerk or a young shipping agent who had seen her watching, and so it was that she would try to learn to understand. + + And then Melanctha was fond of watching men work on new buildings. She loved to see them hoisting, digging, sawing and stone cutting. Here, too, in the daylight, she always learned to know the common workmen. "Heh, Sis, look out or that rock will fall on you and smash you all up into little pieces. Do you think you would make a nice jelly?" And then they would all laugh and feel that their jokes were very funny. And "Say, you pretty yaller girl, would it scare you bad to stand up here on top where I be? See if you've got grit and come up here where I can hold you. All you got to do is to sit still on that there rock that they're just hoistin', and then when you get here I'll hold you tight, don't you be scared Sis." + + Sometimes Melanctha would do some of these things that had much danger, and always with such men, she showed her power and her break neck courage. Once she slipped and fell from a high place. A workman caught her and so she was not killed, but her left arm was badly broken. + + All the men crowded around her. They admired her boldness in doing and in bearing pain when her arm was broken. They all went along with her with great respect to the doctor, and then they took her home in triumph and all of them were bragging about her not squealing. + + James Herbert was home where his wife lived, that day. He was furious when he saw the workmen and Melanctha. He drove the men away with curses so that they were all very nearly fighting, and he would not let a doctor come in to attend Melanctha. "Why don't you see to that girl better, you, you're her mother." + + James Herbert did not fight things out now any more with his daughter. He feared her tongue, and her school learning, and the way she had of saying things that were very nasty to a brutal black man who knew nothing. And Melanctha just then hated him very badly in her suffering. + + And so this was the way Melanctha lived the four years of her beginning as a woman. And many things happened to Melanctha, but she knew very well that none of them had led her on to the right way, that certain way that was to lead her to world wisdom. + + Melanctha Herbert was sixteen when she first met Jane Harden. Jane was a negress, but she was so white that hardly any one could guess it. Jane had had a good deal of education. She had been two years at a colored college. She had had to leave because of her bad conduct. She taught Melanctha many things. She taught her how to go the ways that lead to wisdom. + + Jane Harden was at this time twenty-three years old and she had had much experience. She was very much attracted by Melanctha, and Melanctha was very proud that this Jane would let her know her. + + Jane Harden was not afraid to understand. Melanctha who had strong the sense for real experience, knew that here was a woman who had learned to understand. + + Jane Harden had many bad habits. She drank a great deal, and she wandered widely. She was safe though now, when she wanted to be safe, in this wandering. + + Melanctha Herbert soon always wandered with her. Melanctha tried the drinking and some of the other habits, but she did not find that she cared very much to do them. But every day she grew stronger in her desire to really understand. + + It was now no longer, even in the daylight, the rougher men that these two learned to know in their wanderings, and for Melanctha the better classes were now a little higher. It was no longer express agents and clerks that she learned to know, but men in business, commercial travelers, and even men above these, and Jane and she would talk and walk and laugh and escape from them all very often. It was still the same, the knowing of them and the always just escaping, only now for Melanctha somehow it was different, for though it was always the same thing that happened it had a different flavor, for now Melanctha was with a woman who had wisdom, and dimly she began to see what it was that she should understand. + + It was not from the men that Melanctha learned her wisdom. It was always Jane Harden herself who was making Melanctha begin to understand. + + Jane was a roughened woman. She had power and she liked to use it, she had much white blood and that made her see clear, she liked drinking and that made her reckless. Her white blood was strong in her and she had grit and endurance and a vital courage. She was always game, however much she was in trouble. She liked Melanctha Herbert for the things that she had like her, and then Melanctha was young, and she had sweetness, and a way of listening with intelligence and sympathetic interest, to the stories that Jane Harden often told out of her experience. + + Jane grew always fonder of Melanctha. Soon they began to wander, more to be together than to see men and learn their various ways of working. Then they began not to wander, and Melanctha would spend long hours with Jane in her room, sitting at her feet and listening to her stories, and feeling her strength and the power of her affection, and slowly she began to see clear before her one certain way that would be sure to lead to wisdom. + + Before the end came, the end of the two years in which Melanctha spent all her time when she was not at school or in her home, with Jane Harden, before these two years were finished, Melanctha had come to see very clear, and she had come to be very certain, what it is that gives the world its wisdom. + + Jane Harden always had a little money and she had a room in the lower part of the town. Jane had once taught in a colored school. She had had to leave that too on account of her bad conduct. It was her drinking that always made all the trouble for her, for that can never be really covered over. + + Jane's drinking was always growing worse upon her. Melanctha had tried to do the drinking but it had no real attraction for her. + + In the first year, between Jane Harden and Melanctha Herbert, Jane had been much the stronger. Jane loved Melanctha and she found her always intelligent and brave and sweet and docile, and Jane meant to, and before the year was over she had taught Melanctha what it is that gives many people in the world their wisdom. + + Jane had many ways in which to do this teaching. She told Melanctha many things. She loved Melanctha hard and made Melanctha feel it very deeply. She would be with other people and with men and with Melanctha, and she would make Melanctha understand what everybody wanted, and what one did with power when one had it. + + Melanctha sat at Jane's feet for many hours in these days and felt Jane's wisdom. She learned to love Jane and to have this feeling very deeply. She learned a little in these days to know joy, and she was taught too how very keenly she could suffer. It was very different this suffering from that Melanctha sometimes had from her mother and from her very unendurable black father. Then she was fighting and she could be strong and valiant in her suffering, but here with Jane Harden she was longing and she bent and pleaded with her suffering. + + It was a very tumultuous, very mingled year, this time for Melanctha, but she certainly did begin to really understand. + + In every way she got it from Jane Harden. There was nothing good or bad in doing, feeling, thinking or in talking, that Jane spared her. Sometimes the lesson came almost too strong for Melanctha, but somehow she always managed to endure it and so slowly, but always with increasing strength and feeling, Melanctha began to really understand. + + Then slowly, between them, it began to be all different. Slowly now between them, it was Melanctha Herbert, who was stronger. Slowly now they began to drift apart from one another. + + Melanctha Herbert never really lost her sense that it was Jane Harden who had taught her, but Jane did many things that Melanctha now no longer needed. And then, too, Melanctha never could remember right when it came to what she had done and what had happened. Melanctha now sometimes quarreled with Jane, and they no longer went about together, and sometimes Melanctha really forgot how much she owed to Jane Harden's teaching. + + Melanctha began now to feel that she had always had world wisdom. She really knew of course, that it was Jane who had taught her, but all that began to be covered over by the trouble between them, that was now always getting stronger. + + Jane Harden was a roughened woman. Once she had been very strong, but now she was weakened in all her kinds of strength by her drinking. Melanctha had tried the drinking but it had had no real attraction for her. + + Jane's strong and roughened nature and her drinking made it always harder for her to forgive Melanctha, that now Melanctha did not really need her any longer. Now it was Melanctha who was stronger and it was Jane who was dependent on her. + + Melanctha was now come to be about eighteen years old. She was a graceful, pale yellow, good looking, intelligent, attractive negress, a little mysterious sometimes in her ways, and always good and pleasant, and always ready to do things for people. + + Melanctha from now on saw very little of Jane Harden. Jane did not like that very well and sometimes she abused Melanctha, but her drinking soon covered everything all over. + + It was not in Melanctha's nature to really lose her sense for Jane Harden. Melanctha all her life was ready to help Jane out in any of her trouble, and later, when Jane really went to pieces, Melanctha always did all that she could to help her. + + But Melanctha Herbert was ready now herself to do teaching. Melanctha could do anything now that she wanted. Melanctha knew now what everybody wanted. + + Melanctha had learned how she might stay a little longer; she had learned that she must decide when she wanted really to stay longer, and she had learned how when she wanted to, she could escape. + + And so Melanctha began once more to wander. It was all now for her very different. It was never rougher men now that she talked to, and she did not care much now to know white men of the, for her, very better classes. It was now something realler that Melanctha wanted, something that would move her very deeply, something that would fill her fully with the wisdom that was planted now within her, and that she wanted badly, should really wholly fill her. + + Melanctha these days wandered very widely. She was always alone now when she wandered. Melanctha did not need help now to know, or to stay longer, or when she wanted, to escape. + + Melanctha tried a great many men, in these days before she was really suited. It was almost a year that she wandered and then she met with a young mulatto. He was a doctor who had just begun to practice. He would most likely do well in the future, but it was not this that concerned Melanctha. She found him good and strong and gentle and very intellectual, and all her life Melanctha liked and wanted good and considerate people, and then too he did not at first believe in Melanctha. He held off and did not know what it was that Melanctha wanted. Melanctha came to want him very badly. They began to know each other better. Things began to be very strong between them. Melanctha wanted him so badly that now she never wandered. She just gave herself to this experience. + + Melanctha Herbert was now, all alone, in Bridgepoint. She lived now with this colored woman and now with that one, and she sewed, and sometimes she taught a little in a colored school as substitute for some teacher. Melanctha had now no home nor any regular employment. Life was just commencing for Melanctha. She had youth and had learned wisdom, and she was graceful and pale yellow and very pleasant, and always ready to do things for people, and she was mysterious in her ways and that only made belief in her more fervent. + + During the year before she met Jefferson Campbell, Melanctha had tried many kinds of men but they had none of them interested Melanctha very deeply. She met them, she was much with them, she left them, she would think perhaps this next time it would be more exciting, and always she found that for her it all had no real meaning. She could now do everything she wanted, she knew now everything that everybody wanted, and yet it all had no excitement for her. With these men, she knew she could learn nothing. She wanted some one that could teach her very deeply and now at last she was sure that she had found him, yes she really had it, before she had thought to look if in this man she would find it. + + During this year 'Mis' Herbert as her neighbors called her, Melanctha's pale yellow mother was very sick, and in this year she died. + + Melanctha's father during these last years did not come very often to the house where his wife lived and Melanctha. Melanctha was not sure that her father was now any longer here in Bridgepoint. It was Melanctha who was very good now to her mother. It was always Melanctha's way to be good to any one in trouble. + + Melanctha took good care of her mother. She did everything that any woman could, she tended and soothed and helped her pale yellow mother, and she worked hard in every way to take care of her, and make her dying easy. But Melanctha did not in these days like her mother any better, and her mother never cared much for this daughter who was always a hard child to manage, and who had a tongue that always could be very nasty. + + Melanctha did everything that any woman could, and at last her mother died, and Melanctha had her buried. Melanctha's father was not heard from, and Melanctha in all her life after, never saw or heard or knew of anything that her father did. + + It was the young doctor, Jefferson Campbell, who helped Melanctha toward the end, to take care of her sick mother. Jefferson Campbell had often before seen Melanctha Herbert, but he had never liked her very well, and he had never believed that she was any good. He had heard something about how she wandered. He knew a little too of Jane Harden, and he was sure that this Melanctha Herbert, who was her friend and who wandered, would never come to any good. + + Dr. Jefferson Campbell was a serious, earnest, good young joyous doctor. He liked to take care of everybody and he loved his own colored people. He always found life very easy did Jeff Campbell, and everybody liked to have him with them. He was so good and sympathetic, and he was so earnest and so joyous. He sang when he was happy, and he laughed, and his was the free abandoned laughter that gives the warm broad glow to negro sunshine. + + Jeff Campbell had never yet in his life had real trouble. Jefferson's father was a good, kind, serious, religious man. He was a very steady, very intelligent, and very dignified, light brown, grey haired negro. He was a butler and he had worked for the Campbell family many years, and his father and his mother before him had been in the service of this family as free people. + + Jefferson Campbell's father and his mother had of course been regularly married. Jefferson's mother was a sweet, little, pale brown, gentle woman who reverenced and obeyed her good husband, and who worshipped and admired and loved hard her-good, earnest, cheery, hard working doctor boy who was her only child. + + Jeff Campbell had been raised religious by his people but religion had never interested Jeff very much. Jefferson was very good. He loved his people and he never hurt them, and he always did everything they wanted and that he could to please them, but he really loved best science and experimenting and to learn things, and he early wanted to be a doctor, and he was always very interested in the life of the colored people. + + The Campbell family had been very good to him and had helped him on with his ambition. Jefferson studied hard, he went to a colored college, and then he learnt to be a doctor. + + It was now two or three years, that he had started in to practice. Everybody liked Jeff Campbell, he was so strong and kindly and cheerful and understanding, and he laughed so with pure joy, and he always liked to help all his own colored people. + + Dr. Jeff knew all about Jane Harden. He had taken care of her in some of her bad trouble. He knew about Melanctha too, though until her mother was taken sick he had never met her. Then he was called in to help Melanctha to take care of her sick mother. Dr. Campbell did not like Melanctha's ways and he did not think that she would ever come to any good. + + Dr. Campbell had taken care of Jane Harden in some of her bad trouble. Jane sometimes had abused Melanctha to him. What right had that Melanctha Herbert who owed everything to her, Jane Harden, what right had a girl like that to go away to other men and leave her, but Melanctha Herbert never had any sense of how to act to anybody. Melanctha had a good mind, Jane never denied her that, but she never used it to do anything decent with it. But what could you expect when Melanctha had such a brute of a black nigger father, and Melanctha was always abusing her father and yet she was just like him, and really she admired him so much and he never had any sense of what he owed to anybody, and Melanctha was just like him and she was proud of it too, and it made Jane so tired to hear Melanctha talk all the time as if she wasn't. Jane Harden hated people who had good minds and didn't use them, and Melanctha always had that weakness, and wanting to keep in with people, and never really saying that she wanted to be like her father, and it was so silly of Melanctha to abuse her father, when she was so much like him and she really liked it. No, Jane Harden had no use for Melanctha. Oh yes, Melanctha always came around to be good to her. Melanctha was always sure to do that. She never really went away and left one. She didn't use her mind enough to do things straight out like that. Melanctha Herbert had a good mind, Jane never denied that to her, but she never wanted to see or hear about Melanctha Herbert any more, and she wished Melanctha wouldn't come in any more to see her. She didn't hate her, but she didn't want to hear about her father and all that talk Melanctha always made, and that just meant nothing to her. Jane Harden was very tired of all that now. She didn't have any use now any more for Melanctha, and if Dr. Campbell saw her he better tell her Jane didn't want to see her, and she could take her talk to somebody else, who was ready to believe her. And then Jane Harden would drop away and forget Melanctha and all her life before, and then she would begin to drink and so she would cover everything all over. + + Jeff Campbell heard all this very often, but it did not interest him very deeply. He felt no desire to know more of this Melanctha. He heard her, once, talking to another girl outside of the house, when he was paying a visit to Jane Harden. He did not see much in the talk that he heard her do. He did not see much in the things Jane Harden said when she abused Melanctha to him. He was more interested in Jane herself than in anything he heard about Melanctha. He knew Jane Harden had a good mind, and she had had power, and she could really have done things, and now this drinking covered everything all over. Jeff Campbell was always very sorry when he had to see it. Jane Harden was a roughened woman, and yet Jeff found a great many strong good things in her, that still made him like her. + + Jeff Campbell did everything he could for Jane Harden. He did not care much to hear about Melanctha. He had no feeling, much, about her. He did not find that he took any interest in her. Jane Harden was so much a stronger woman, and Jane really had had a good mind, and she had used it to do things with it, before this drinking business had taken such a hold upon her. + + Dr. Campbell was helping Melanctha Herbert to take care of her sick mother. He saw Melanctha now for long times and very often, and they sometimes talked a good deal together, but Melanctha never said anything to him about Jane Harden. She never talked to him about anything that was not just general matters, or about medicine, or to tell him funny stories. She asked him many questions and always listened very well to all he told her, and she always remembered everything she heard him say about doctoring, and she always remembered everything that she had learned from all the others. + + Jeff Campbell never found that all this talk interested him very deeply. He did not find that he liked Melanctha when he saw her so much, any better. He never found that he thought much about Melanctha. He never found that he believed much in her having a good mind, like Jane Harden. He found he liked Jane Harden always better, and that he wished very much that she had never begun that bad drinking. + + Melanctha Herbert's mother was now always getting sicker. Melanctha really did everything that any woman could. Melanctha's mother never liked her daughter any better. She never said much, did 'Mis' Herbert, but anybody could see that she did not think much of this daughter. + + Dr. Campbell now often had to stay a long time to take care of 'Mis' Herbert. One day 'Mis' Herbert was much sicker and Dr. Campbell thought that this night, she would surely die. He came back late to the house, as he had said he would, to sit up and watch 'Mis' Herbert, and to help Melanctha, if she should need anybody to be with her. Melanctha Herbert and Jeff Campbell sat up all that night together. 'Mis' Herbert did not die. The next day she was a little better. + + This house where Melanctha had always lived with her mother was a little red brick, two story house. They had not much furniture to fill it and some of the windows were broken and not mended. Melanctha did not have much money to use now on the house, but with a colored woman, who was their neighbor and good natured and who had always helped them, Melanctha managed to take care of her mother and to keep the house fairly clean and neat. + + Melanctha's mother was in bed in a room upstairs, and the steps from below led right up into it. There were just two rooms on this upstairs floor. Melanctha and Dr. Campbell sat down on the steps, that night they watched together, so that they could hear and see Melanctha's mother and yet the light would be shaded, and they could sit and read, if they wanted to, and talk low some, and yet not disturb 'Mis' Herbert. + + Dr. Campbell was always very fond of reading. Dr. Campbell had not brought a book with him that night. He had just forgotten it. He had meant to put something in his pocket to read, so that he could amuse himself, while he was sitting there and watching. When he was through with taking care of 'Mis' Herbert, he came and sat down on the steps just above where Melanctha was sitting. He spoke about how he had forgotten to bring his book with him. Melanctha said there were some old papers in the house, perhaps Dr. Campbell could find something in them that would help pass the time for a while for him. All right, Dr. Campbell said, that would be better than just sitting there with nothing. Dr. Campbell began to read through the old papers that Melanctha gave him. When anything amused him in them, he read it out to Melanctha. Melanctha was now pretty silent, with him. Dr. Campbell began to feel a little, about how she responded to him. Dr. Campbell began to see a little that perhaps Melanctha had a good mind. Dr. Campbell was not sure yet that she had a good mind, but he began to think a little that perhaps she might have one. + + Jefferson Campbell always liked to talk to everybody about the things he worked at and about his thinking about what he could do for the colored people. Melanctha Herbert never thought about these things the way that he did. Melanctha had never said much to Dr. Campbell about what she thought about them. Melanctha did not feel the same as he did about being good and regular in life, and not having excitements all the time, which was the way that Jefferson Campbell wanted that everybody should be, so that everybody would be wise and yet be happy. Melanctha always had strong the sense for real experience. Melanctha Herbert did not think much of this way of coming to real wisdom. + + Dr. Campbell soon got through with his reading, in the old newspapers, and then somehow he began to talk along about the things he was always thinking. Dr. Campbell said he wanted to work so that he could understand what troubled people, and not to just have excitements, and he believed you ought to love your father and your mother and to be regular in all your life, and not to be always wanting new things and excitements, and to always know where you were, and what you wanted, and to always tell everything just as you meant it. That's the only kind of life he knew or believed in, Jeff Campbell repeated. "No I ain't got any use for all the time being in excitements and wanting to have all kinds of experience all the time. I got plenty of experience just living regular and quiet and with my family, and doing my work, and taking care of people, and trying to understand it. I don't believe much in this running around business and I. don't want to see the colored people do it. I am a colored man and I ain't sorry, and I want to see the colored people like what is good and what I want them to have, and that's to live regular and work hard and understand things, and that's enough to keep any decent man excited." Jeff Campbell spoke now with some anger. Not to Melanctha, he did not think of her at all when he was talking. It was the life he wanted that he spoke to, and the way he wanted things to be with the colored people. + + But Melanctha Herbert had listened to him say all this. She knew he meant it, but it did not mean much to her, and she was sure some day he would find out, that it was not all, of real wisdom. Melanctha knew very well what it was to have real wisdom. "But how about Jane Harden?" said Melanctha to Jeff Campbell, "seems to me Dr. Campbell you find her to have something in her, and you go there very often, and you talk to her much more than you do to the nice girls that stay at home with their people, the kind you say you are really wanting. It don't seem to me Dr. Campbell, that what you say and what you do seem to have much to do with each other. And about your being so good Dr. Campbell," went on Melanctha, "You don't care about going to church much yourself, and yet you always are saying you believe so much in things like that, for people. It seems to me, Dr. Campbell you want to have a good time just like all us others, and then you just keep on saying that it's right to be good and you ought not to have excitements, and yet you really don't want to do it Dr. Campbell, no more than me or Jane Harden. No, Dr. Campbell, it certainly does seem to me you don't know very well yourself, what you mean, when you are talking." + + Jefferson had been talking right along, the way he always did when he got started, and now Melanctha's answer only made him talk a little harder. He laughed a little, too, but very low, so as not to disturb 'Mis' Herbert who was sleeping very nicely, and he looked brightly at Melanctha to enjoy her, and then he settled himself down to answer. + + "Yes," he began, "it certainly does sound a little like I didn't know very well what I do mean, when you put it like that to me, Miss Melanctha, but that's just because you don't understand enough about what I meant, by what I was just saying to you. I don't say, never, I don't want to know all kinds of people, Miss Melanctha, and I don't say there ain't many kinds of people, and I don't say ever, that I don't find some like Jane Harden very good to know and talk to, but it's the strong things I like in Jane Harden, not all her excitements. I don't admire the bad things she does, Miss Melanctha, but Jane Harden is a strong woman and I always respect that in her. No I know you don't believe what I say, Miss Melanctha, but I mean it, and it's all just because you don't understand it when I say it. And as for religion, that just ain't my way of being good, Miss Melanctha, but it's a good way for many people to be good and regular in their way of living, and if they believe it, it helps them to be good, and if they're honest in it, I like to see them have it. No, what I don't like, Miss Melanctha, is this what I see so much with the colored people, their always wanting new things just to get excited." + + Jefferson Campbell here stopped himself in this talking. Melanctha Herbert did not make any answer. They both sat there very quiet. + + Jeff Campbell then began again on the old papers. He sat there on the steps just above where Melanctha was sitting, and he went on with his reading, and his head went moving up and down, and sometimes he was reading, and sometimes he was thinking about all the things he wanted to be doing, and then he would rub the back of his dark hand over his mouth, and in between he would be frowning with his thinking, and sometimes he would be rubbing his head hard to help his thinking. And Melanctha just sat still and watched the lamp burning, and sometimes she turned it down a little, when the wind caught it and it would begin to get to smoking. + + And so Jeff Campbell and Melanctha Herbert sat there on the steps, very quiet, a long time, and they didn't seem to think much, that they were together. They sat there so, for about an hour, and then it came to Jefferson very slowly and as a strong feeling that he was sitting there on the steps, alone, with Melanctha. He did not know if Melanctha Herbert was feeling very much about their being there alone together. Jefferson began to wonder about it a little. Slowly he felt that surely they must both have this feeling. It was so important that he knew that she must have it. They both sat there, very quiet, a long time. + + At last Jefferson began to talk about how the lamp was smelling. Jefferson began to explain what it is that makes a lamp get to smelling. Melanctha let him talk. She did not answer, and then he stopped in his talking. Soon Melanctha began to sit up straighter and then she started in to question. + + "About what you was just saying Dr. Campbell about living regular and all that, I certainly don't understand what you meant by what you was just saying. You ain't a bit like good people Dr. Campbell, like the good people you are always saying are just like you. I know good people Dr. Campbell, and you ain't a bit like men who are good and got religion. You are just as free and easy as any man can be Dr. Campbell, and you always like to be with Jane Harden, and she is a pretty bad one and you don't look down on her and you never tell her she is a bad one. I know you like her just like a friend Dr. Campbell, and so I certainly don't understand just what it is you mean by all that you was just saying to me. I know you mean honest Dr. Campbell, and I am always trying to believe you, but I can't say as I see just what you mean when you say you want to be good and real pious, because I am very certain Dr. Campbell that you ain't that kind of a man at all, and you ain't never ashamed to be with queer folks Dr. Campbell, and you seem to be thinking what you are doing is just like what you are always saying, and Dr. Campbell, I certainly don't just see what you mean by what you say." + + Dr. Campbell almost laughed loud enough to wake 'Mis' Herbert. He did enjoy the way Melanctha said these things to him. He began to feel very strongly about it that perhaps Melanctha really had a good mind. He was very free now in his laughing, but not so as to make Melanctha angry. He was very friendly with her in his laughing, and then he made his face get serious, and he rubbed his head to help him in his thinking. + + "I know Miss Melanctha" he began, "It ain't very easy for you to understand what I was meaning by what I was just saying to you, and perhaps some of the good people I like so wouldn't think very much, any more than you do, Miss Melanctha, about the ways I have to be good. But that's no matter Miss Melanctha. What I mean Miss Melanctha by what I was just saying to you is, that I don't, no, never, believe in doing things just to get excited. You see Miss Melanctha I mean the way so many of the colored people do it. Instead of just working hard and caring about their working and living regular with their families and saving up all their money, so they will have some to bring up their children better, instead of living regular and doing like that and getting all their new ways from just decent living, the colored people just keep running around and perhaps drinking and doing everything bad they can ever think of, and not just because they like all those bad things that they are always doing, but only just because they want to get excited. No Miss Melanctha, you see I am a colored man myself and I ain't sorry, and I want to see the colored people being good and careful and always honest and living always just as regular as can be, and I am sure Miss Melanctha, that that way everybody can have a good time, and be happy and keep right and be busy, and not always have to be doing bad things for new ways to get excited. Yes Miss Melanctha, I certainly do like everything to be good, and quiet, and I certainly do think that is the best way for all us colored people. No, Miss Melanctha too, I don't mean this except only just the way I say it. I ain't got any other meaning Miss Melanctha, and it's that what I mean when I am saying about being really good. It ain't Miss Melanctha to be pious and not liking every kind of people, and I don't say ever Miss Melanctha that when other kind of people come regular into your life you shouldn't want to know them always. What I mean Miss Melanctha by what I am always saying is, you shouldn't try to know everybody just to run around and get excited. It's that kind of way of doing that I hate so always Miss Melanctha, and that is so bad for all us colored people. I don't know as you understand now any better what I mean by what I was just saying to you. But you certainly do know now Miss Melanctha, that I always mean it what I say when I am talking." + + "Yes I certainly do understand you when you talk so Dr. Campbell. I certainly do understand now what you mean by what you was always saying to me. I certainly do understand Dr. Campbell that you mean you don't believe it's right to love anybody." "Why sure no, yes I do Miss Melanctha, I certainly do believe strong in loving, and in being good to everybody, and trying to understand what they all need, to help them." "Oh I know all about that way of doing Dr. Campbell, but that certainly ain't the kind of love I mean when I am talking. I mean real, strong, hot love Dr. Campbell, that makes you do anything for somebody that loves you." "I don't know much about that kind of love yet Miss Melanctha. You see it's this way with me always Miss Melanctha. I am always so busy with my thinking about my work I am doing and so I don't have time for just fooling, and then too, you see Miss Melanctha, I really certainly don't ever like to get excited, and that kind of loving hard does seem always to mean just getting all the time excited. That certainly is what I always think from what I see of them that have it bad Miss Melanctha, and that certainly would never suit a man like me. You see Miss Melanctha I am a very quiet kind of fellow, and I believe in a quiet life for all the colored people. No Miss Melanctha I certainly never have mixed myself up in that kind of trouble." + + "Yes I certainly do see that very clear Dr. Campbell," said Melanctha, "I see that's certainly what it is always made me not know right about you and that's certainly what it is that makes you really mean what you was always saying. You certainly are just too scared Dr. Campbell to really feel things way down in you. All you are always wanting Dr. Campbell, is just to talk about being good, and to play with people just to have a good time, and yet always to certainly keep yourself out of trouble. It don't seem to me Dr. Campbell that I admire that way to do things very much. It certainly ain't really to me being very good. It certainly ain't any more to me Dr. Campbell, but that you certainly are awful scared about really feeling things way down in you, and that's certainly the only way Dr. Campbell I can see that you can mean, by what it is that you are always saying to me." + + "I don't know about that Miss Melanctha, I certainly don't think I can't feel things very deep in me, though I do say I certainly do like to have things nice and quiet, but I don't see harm in keeping out of danger Miss Melanctha, when a man knows he certainly don't want to get killed in it, and I don't know anything that's more awful dangerous Miss Melanctha than being strong in love with somebody. I don't mind sickness or real trouble Miss Melanctha, and I don't want to be talking about what I can do in real trouble, but you know something about that Miss Melanctha, but I certainly don't see much in mixing up just to get excited, in that awful kind of danger. No Miss Melanctha I certainly do only know just two kinds of ways of loving. One kind of loving seems to me, is like one has a good quiet feeling in a family when one does his work, and is always living good and being regular, and then the other way of loving is just like having it like any animal that's low in the streets together, and that don't seem to me very good Miss Melanctha, though I don't say ever that it's not all right when anybody likes it, and that's all the kinds of love I know Miss Melanctha, and I certainly don't care very much to get mixed up in that kind of a way just to be in trouble." + + Jefferson stopped and Melanctha thought a little. + + "That certainly does explain to me Dr. Campbell what I been thinking about you this long time. I certainly did wonder how you could be so live, and knowing everything, and everybody, and talking so big always about everything, and everybody always liking you so much, and you always looking as if you was thinking, and yet you really was never knowing about anybody and certainly not being really very understanding. It certainly is all Dr. Campbell because you is so afraid you will be losing being good so easy, and it certainly do seem to me Dr. Campbell that it certainly don't amount to very much that kind of goodness." + + "Perhaps you are right Miss Melanctha," Jefferson answered. "I don't say never, perhaps you ain't right Miss Melanctha. Perhaps I ought to know more about such ways Miss Melanctha. Perhaps it would help me some, taking care of the colored people, Miss Melanctha. I don't say, no, never, but perhaps I could learn a whole lot about women the right way, if I had a real good teacher." + + 'Mis' Herbert just then stirred a little in her sleep. Melanctha went up the steps to the bed to attend her. Dr. Campbell got up too and went to help her. 'Mis' Herbert woke up and was a little better. Now it was morning and Dr. Campbell gave his directions to Melanctha, and then left her. + + Melanctha Herbert all her life long, loved and wanted good, kind and considerate people. Jefferson Campbell was all the things that Melanctha had ever wanted. Jefferson was a strong, well built, good looking, cheery, intelligent and good mulatto. And then at first he had not cared to know Melanctha, and when he did begin to know her he had not liked her very well, and he had not thought that she would ever come to any good. And then Jefferson Campbell was so very gentle. Jefferson never did some things like other men, things that now were beginning to be ugly, for Melanctha. And then too Jefferson Campbell did not seem to know very well what it was that Melanctha really wanted, and all this was making Melanctha feel his power with her always getting stronger. + + Dr. Campbell came in every day to see 'Mis' Herbert. 'Mis' Herbert, after that night they watched together, did get a little better, but 'Mis' Herbert was really very sick, and soon it was pretty sure that she would have to die. Melanctha certainly did everything, all the time, that any woman could. Jefferson never thought much better of Melanctha while she did it. It was not her being good, he wanted to find in her. He knew very well Jane Harden was right, when she said Melanctha was always being good to everybody but that that did not make Melanctha any better for her. Then too, 'Mis' Herbert never liked Melanctha any better, even on the last day of her living, and so Jefferson really never thought much of Melanctha's always being good to her mother. + + Jefferson and Melanctha now saw each other, very often. They now always liked to be with each other, and they always now had a good time when they talked to one another. They, mostly in their talking to each other, still just talked about outside things and what they were thinking. Except just in little moments, and not those very often, they never said anything about their feeling. Sometimes Melanctha would tease Jefferson a little just to show she had not forgotten, but mostly she listened to his talking, for Jefferson still always liked to talk along about the things he believed in. Melanctha was liking Jefferson Campbell better every day, and Jefferson was beginning to know that Melanctha certainly had a good mind, and he was beginning to feel a little her real sweetness. Not in her being good to 'Mis' Herbert, that never seemed to Jefferson to mean much in her, but there was a strong kind of sweetness in Melanctha's nature that Jefferson began now to feel when he was with her. + + 'Mis' Herbert was now always getting sicker. One night again Dr. Campbell felt very certain that before it was morning she would surely die. Dr. Campbell said he would come back to help Melanctha watch her, and to do anything he could to make 'Mis' Herbert's dying more easy for her. Dr. Campbell came back that evening, after he was through with his other patients, and then he made 'Mis' Herbert easy, and then he came and sat down on the steps just above where Melanctha was sitting with the lamp, and looking very tired. Dr. Campbell was pretty tired too, and they both sat there very quiet. + + "You look awful tired to-night, Dr. Campbell," Melanctha said at last, with her voice low and very gentle, "Don't you want to go lie down and sleep a little? You're always being much too good to everybody, Dr. Campbell. I like to have you stay here watching to-night with me, but it don't seem right you ought to stay here when you got so much always to do for everybody. You are certainly very kind to come back, Dr. Campbell, but I can certainly get along to-night without you. I can get help next door sure if I need it. You just go 'long home to bed, Dr. Campbell. You certainly do look as if you need it." + + Jefferson was silent for some time, and always he was looking very gently at Melanctha. + + "I certainly never did think, Miss Melanctha, I would find you to be so sweet and thinking, with me." "Dr. Campbell" said Melanctha, still more gentle, "I certainly never did think that you would ever feel it good to like me. I certainly never did think you would want to see for yourself if I had sweet ways in me." + + They both sat there very tired, very gentle, very quiet, a long time. At last Melanctha in a low, even tone began to talk to Jefferson Campbell. + + "You are certainly a very good man, Dr. Campbell, I certainly do feel that more every day I see you. Dr. Campbell, I sure do want to be friends with a good man like you, now I know you. You certainly, Dr. Campbell, never do things like other men, that's always ugly for me. Tell me true, Dr. Campbell, how you feel about being always friends with me. I certainly do know, Dr. Campbell, you are a good man, and if you say you will be friends with me, you certainly never will go back on me, the way so many kinds of them do to every girl they ever get to like them. Tell me for true, Dr. Campbell, will you be friends with me." + + "Why, Miss Melanctha," said Campbell slowly, "why you see I just can't say that right out that way to you. Why sure you know Miss Melanctha, I will be very glad if it comes by and by that we are always friends together, but you see, Miss Melanctha, I certainly am a very slow-minded quiet kind of fellow though I do say quick things all the time to everybody, and when I certainly do want to mean it what I am saying to you, I can't say things like that right out to everybody till I know really more for certain all about you, and how I like you, and what I really mean to do better for you. You certainly do see what I mean, Miss Melanctha." "I certainly do admire you for talking honest to me, Jeff Campbell," said Melanctha. "Oh, I am always honest, Miss Melanctha. It's easy enough for me always to be honest, Miss Melanctha. All I got to do is always just to say right out what I am thinking. I certainly never have got any real reason for not saying it right out like that to anybody." + + They sat together, very silent. "I certainly do wonder, Miss Melanctha," at last began Jeff Campbell, "I certainly do wonder, if we know very right, you and me, what each other is really thinking. I certainly do wonder, Miss Melanctha, if we know at all really what each other means by what we are always saying." "That certainly do mean, by what you say, that you think I am a bad one, Jeff Campbell," flashed out Melanctha. "Why no, Miss Melanctha, why sure I don't mean any thing like that at all, by what I am saying to you. You know well as I do, Miss Melanctha, I think better of you every day I see you, and I like to talk with you all the time now, Miss Melanctha, and I certainly do think we both like it very well when we are together, and it seems to me always more, you are very good and sweet always to everybody. It only is, I am really so slow-minded in my ways, Miss Melanctha, for all I talk so quick to everybody, and I don't like to say to you what I don't know for very sure, and I certainly don't know for sure I know just all what you mean by what you are always saying to me. And you see, Miss Melanctha, that's what makes me say what I was just saying to you when you asked me." + + "I certainly do thank you again for being honest to me, Dr. Campbell," said Melanctha. "I guess I leave you now, Dr. Campbell. I think I go in the other room and rest a little. I leave you here, so perhaps if I ain't here you will maybe sleep and rest yourself a little. Good night now, Dr. Campbell, I call you if I need you later to help me, Dr. Campbell, I hope you rest well, Dr. Campbell." + + Jeff Campbell, when Melanctha left him, sat there and he was very quiet and just wondered. He did not know very well just what Melanctha meant by what she was always saying to him. He did not know very well how much he really knew about Melanctha Herbert. He wondered if he should go on being so much all the time with her. He began to think about what he should do now with her. Jefferson Campbell was a man who liked everybody and many people liked very much to be with him. Women liked him, he was so strong, and good, and understanding, and innocent, and firm, and gentle. Sometimes they seemed to want very much he should be with them. When they got so, they always had made Campbell very tired. Sometimes he would play a little with them, but he never had had any strong feeling for them. Now with Melanctha Herbert everything seemed different. Jefferson was not sure that he knew here just what he wanted. He was not sure he knew just what it was that Melanctha wanted. He knew if it was only play, with Melanctha, that he did not want to do it. But he remembered always how she had told him he never knew how to feel things very deeply. He remembered how she told him he was afraid to let himself ever know real feeling, and then too, most of all to him, she had told him he was not very understanding. That always troubled Jefferson very keenly, he wanted very badly to be really understanding. If Jefferson only knew better just what Melanctha meant by what she said. Jefferson always had thought he knew something about women. Now he found that really he knew nothing. He did not know the least bit about Melanctha. He did not know what it was right that he should do about it. He wondered if it was just a little play that they were doing. If it was a play he did not want to go on playing, but if it was really that he was not very understanding, and that with Melanctha Herbert he could learn to really understand, then he was very certain he did not want to be a coward. It was very hard for him to know what he wanted. He thought and thought, and always he did not seem to know any better what he wanted. At last he gave up this thinking. He felt sure it was only play with Melanctha. "No, I certainly won't go on fooling with her any more this way," he said at last out loud to himself, when he was through with this thinking. "I certainly will stop fooling, and begin to go on with my thinking about my work and what's the matter with people like 'Mis' Herbert," and Jefferson took out his book from his pocket, and drew near to the lamp, and began with some hard scientific reading. + + Jefferson sat there for about an hour reading, and he had really forgotten all about his trouble with Melanctha's meaning. Then 'Mis' Herbert had some trouble with her breathing. She woke up and was gasping. Dr. Campbell went to her and gave her something that would help her. Melanctha came out from the other room and did things as he told her. They together made 'Mis' Herbert more comfortable and easy, and soon she was again in her deep sleep. + + Dr. Campbell went back to the steps where he had been sitting. Melanctha came and stood a little while beside him, and then she sat down and watched him reading. By and by they began with their talking. Jeff Campbell began to feel that perhaps it was all different. Perhaps it was not just play, with Melanctha. Anyway he liked it very well that she was with him. He began to tell her about the book he was just reading. + + Melanctha was very intelligent always in her questions. Jefferson knew now very well that she had a good mind. They were having a very good time, talking there together. And then they began again to get quiet. + + "It certainly was very good in you to come back and talk to me Miss Melanctha," Jefferson said at last to her, for now he was almost certain, it was no game she was playing. Melanctha really was a good woman, and she had a good mind, and she had a real, strong sweetness, and she could surely really teach him. "Oh I always like to talk to you Dr. Campbell" said Melanctha, "And then you was only just honest to me, and I always like it when a man is really honest to me." Then they were again very silent, sitting there together, with the lamp between them, that was always smoking. Melanctha began to lean a little more toward Dr. Campbell, where he was sitting, and then she took his hand between her two and pressed it hard, but she said nothing to him. She let it go then and leaned a little nearer to him. Jefferson moved a little but did not do anything in answer. At last, "Well," said Melanctha sharply to him. "I was just thinking" began Dr. Campbell slowly, "I was just wondering," he was beginning to get ready to go on with his talking. "Don't you ever stop with your thinking long enough ever to have any feeling Jeff Campbell," said Melanctha a little sadly. "I don't know," said Jeff Campbell slowly, "I don't know Miss Melanctha much about that. No, I don't stop thinking much Miss Melanctha and if I can't ever feel without stopping thinking, I certainly am very much afraid Miss Melanctha that I never will do much with that kind of feeling. Sure you ain't worried Miss Melanctha, about my really not feeling very much all the time. I certainly do think I feel some, Miss Melanctha, even though I always do it without ever knowing how to stop with my thinking." "I am certainly afraid I don't think much of your kind of feeling Dr. Campbell." "Why I think you certainly are wrong Miss Melanctha I certainly do think I feel as much for you Miss Melanctha, as you ever feel about me, sure I do. I don't think you know me right when you talk like that to me. Tell me just straight out how much do you care about me, Miss Melanctha." "Care about you Jeff Campbell," said Melanctha slowly. "I certainly do care for you Jeff Campbell less than you are always thinking and much more than you are ever knowing." + + Jeff Campbell paused on this, and he was silent with the power of Melanctha's meaning. They sat there together very silent, a long time. "Well Jeff Campbell," said Melanctha. "Oh," said Dr. Campbell and he moved himself a little, and then they were very silent a long time. "Haven't you got nothing to say to me Jeff Campbell?" said Melanctha. "Why yes, what was it we were just saying about to one another. You see Miss Melanctha I am a very quiet, slow minded kind of fellow, and I am never sure I know just exactly what you mean by all that you are always saying to me. But I do like you very much Miss Melanctha and I am very sure you got very good things in you all the time. You sure do believe what I am saying to you Miss Melanctha." "Yes I believe it when you say it to me, Jeff Campbell," said Melanctha, and then she was silent and there was much sadness in it. "I guess I go in and lie down again Dr. Campbell," said Melanctha. "Don't go leave me Miss Melanctha," said Jeff Campbell quickly. "Why not, what you want of me Jeff Campbell?" said Melanctha. "Why," said Jeff Campbell slowly, "I just want to go on talking with you. I certainly do like talking about all kinds of things with you. You certainly know that all right, Miss Melanctha." "I guess I go lie down again and leave you here with your thinking," said Melanctha gently. "I certainly am very tired to night Dr. Campbell. Good night I hope you rest well Dr. Campbell." Melanctha stooped over him, where he was sitting, to say this good night, and then, very quick and sudden, she kissed him and then, very quick again, she went away and left him. + + Dr. Campbell sat there very quiet, with only a little thinking and sometimes a beginning feeling, and he was alone until it began to be morning, and then he went, and Melanctha helped him, and he made 'Mis' Herbert more easy in her dying. 'Mis' Herbert lingered on till about ten o'clock the next morning, and then slowly and without much pain she died away. Jeff Campbell staid till the last moment, with Melanctha, to make her mother's dying easy for her. When it was over he sent in the colored woman from next door to help Melanctha fix things, and then he went away to take care of his other patients. He came back very soon to Melanctha. He helped her to have a funeral for her mother. Melanctha then went to live with the good natured woman, who had been her neighbor. Melanctha still saw Jeff Campbell very often. Things began to be very strong between them. + + Melanctha now never wandered, unless she was with Jeff Campbell. Sometimes she and he wandered a good deal together. Jeff Campbell had not got over his way of talking to her all the time about all the things he was always thinking. Melanctha never talked much, now, when they were together. Sometimes Jeff Campbell teased her about her not talking to him. "I certainly did think Melanctha you was a great talker from the way Jane Harden and everybody said things to me, and from the way I heard you talk so much when I first met you. Tell me true Melanctha, why don't you talk more now to me, perhaps it is I talk so much I don't give you any chance to say things to me, or perhaps it is you hear me talk so much you don't think so much now of a whole lot of talking. Tell me honest Melanctha, why don't you talk more to me." "You know very well Jeff Campbell," said Melanctha "You certainly do know very well Jeff, you don't think really much, of my talking. You think a whole lot more about everything than I do Jeff, and you don't care much what I got to say about it. You know that's true what I am saying Jeff, if you want to be real honest, the way you always are when I like you so much." Jeff laughed and looked fondly at her. "I don't say ever I know, you ain't right, when you say things like that to me, Melanctha. You see you always like to be talking just what you think everybody wants to be hearing from you, and when you are like that, Melanctha, honest, I certainly don't care very much to hear you, but sometimes you say something that is what you are really thinking, and then I like a whole lot to hear you talking." Melanctha smiled, with her strong sweetness, on him, and she felt her power very deeply. "I certainly never do talk very much when I like anybody really, Jeff. You see, Jeff, it ain't much use to talk about what a woman is really feeling in her. You see all that, Jeff, better, by and by, when you get to really feeling. You won't be so ready then always with your talking. You see, Jeff, if it don't come true what I am saying." "I don't ever say you ain't always right, Melanctha," said Jeff Campbell. "Perhaps what I call my thinking ain't really so very understanding. I don't say, no never now any more, you ain't right, Melanctha, when you really say things to me. Perhaps I see it all to be very different when I come to really see what you mean by what you are always saying to me." "You is very sweet and good to me always, Jeff Campbell," said Melanctha. "'Deed I certainly am not good to you, Melanctha. Don't I bother you all the time with my talking, but I really do like you a whole lot, Melanctha." "And I like you, Jeff Campbell, and you certainly are mother, and father, and brother, and sister, and child and everything, always to me. I can't say much about how good you been to me, Jeff Campbell, I never knew any man who was good and didn't do things ugly, before I met you to take care of me, Jeff Campbell. Good-by, Jeff, come see me to-morrow, when you get through with your working." "Sure Melanctha, you know that already," said Jeff Campbell, and then he went away and left her. + + These months had been an uncertain time for Jeff Campbell. He never knew how much he really knew about Melanctha. He saw her now for long times and very often. He was beginning always more and more to like her. But he did not seem to himself to know very much about her. He was beginning to feel he could almost trust the goodness in her. But then, always, really, he was not very sure about her. Melanctha always had ways that made him feel uncertain with her, and yet he was so near, in his feeling for her. He now never thought about all this in real words any more. He was always letting it fight itself out in him. He was now never taking any part in this fighting that was always going on inside him. + + Jeff always loved now to be with Melanctha and yet he always hated to go to her. Somehow he was always afraid when he was to go to her, and yet he had made himself very certain that here he would not be a coward. He never felt any of this being afraid, when he was with her. Then they always were very true, and near to one another. But always when he was going to her, Jeff would like anything that could happen that would keep him a little longer from her. + + It was a very uncertain time, all these months, for Jeff Campbell. He did not know very well what it was that he really wanted. He was very certain that he did not know very well what it was that Melanctha wanted. Jeff Campbell had always all his life loved to be with people, and he had loved all his life always to be thinking, but he was still only a great boy, was Jeff Campbell, and he had never before had any of this funny kind of feeling. Now, this evening, when he was free to go and see Melanctha, he talked to anybody he could find who would detain him, and so it was very late when at last he came to the house where Melanctha was waiting to receive him. + + Jeff came in to where Melanctha was waiting for him, and he took off his hat and heavy coat, and then drew up a chair and sat down by the fire. It was very cold that night, and Jeff sat there, and rubbed his hands and tried to warm them. He had only said "How do you do" to Melanctha, he had not yet begun to talk to her. Melanctha sat there, by the fire, very quiet. The heat gave a pretty pink glow to her pale yellow and attractive face. Melanctha sat in a low chair, her hands, with their long, fluttering fingers, always ready to show her strong feeling, were lying quiet in her lap. Melanctha was very tired with her waiting for Jeff Campbell. She sat there very quiet and just watching. Jeff was a robust, dark, healthy, cheery negro. His hands were firm and kindly and unimpassioned. He touched women always with his big hands, like a brother. He always had a warm broad glow, like southern sunshine. He never had anything mysterious in him. He was open, he was pleasant, he was cheery, and always he wanted, as Melanctha once had wanted, always now he too wanted really to understand. + + Jeff sat there this evening in his chair and was silent a long time, warming himself with the pleasant fire. He did not look at Melanctha who was watching. He sat there and just looked into the fire. At first his dark, open face was smiling, and he was rubbing the back of his black-brown hand over his mouth to help him in his smiling. Then he was thinking, and he frowned and rubbed his head hard, to help him in his thinking. Then he smiled again, but now his smiling was not very pleasant. His smile was now wavering on the edge of scorning. His smile changed more and more, and then he had a look as if he were deeply down, all disgusted. Now his face was darker, and he was bitter in his smiling, and he began, without looking from the fire, to talk to Melanctha, who was now very tense with her watching. + + "Melanctha Herbert", began Jeff Campbell, "I certainly after all this time I know you, I certainly do know little, real about you. You see, Melanctha, it's like this way with me"; Jeff was frowning, with his thinking and looking very hard into the fire, "You see it's just this way, with me now, Melanctha. Sometimes you seem like one kind of a girl to me, and sometimes you are like a girl that is all different to me, and the two kinds of girls is certainly very different to each other, and I can't see any way they seem to have much to do, to be together in you. They certainly don't seem to be made much like as if they could have anything really to do with each other. Sometimes you are a girl to me I certainly never would be trusting, and you got a laugh then so hard, it just rattles, and you got ways so bad, I can't believe you mean them hardly, and yet all that I just been saying is certainly you one way I often see you, and it's what your mother and Jane Harden always found you, and it's what makes me hate so, to come near you. And then certainly sometimes, Melanctha, you certainly is all a different creature, and sometimes then there comes out in you what is certainly a thing, like a real beauty. I certainly, Melanctha, never can tell just how it is that it comes so lovely. Seems to me when it comes it's got a real sweetness, that is more wonderful than a pure flower, and a gentleness, that is more tender than the sunshine, and a kindness, that makes one feel like summer, and then a way to know, that makes everything all over, and all that, and it does certainly seem to be real for the little while it's lasting, for the little while that I can surely see it, and it gives me to feel like I certainly had got real religion. And then when I got rich with such a feeling, comes all that other girl, and then that seems more likely that that is really you what's honest, and then I certainly do get awful afraid to come to you, and I certainly never do feel I could be very trusting with you. And then I certainly don't know anything at all about you, and I certainly don't know which is a real Melanctha Herbert, and I certainly don't feel no longer, I ever want to talk to you. Tell me honest, Melanctha, which is the way that is you really, when you are alone, and real, and all honest. Tell me, Melanctha, for I certainly do want to know it." + + Melanctha did not make him any answer, and Jeff, without looking at her, after a little while, went on with his talking. "And then, Melanctha, sometimes you certainly do seem sort of cruel, and not to care about people being hurt or in trouble, something so hard about you it makes me sometimes real nervous, sometimes somehow like you always, like your being, with 'Mis' Herbert. You sure did do everything that any woman could, Melanctha, I certainly never did see anybody do things any better, and yet, I don't know how to say just what I mean, Melanctha, but there was something awful hard about your feeling, so different from the way I'm always used to see good people feeling, and so it was the way Jane Harden and 'Mis' Herbert talked when they felt strong to talk about you, and yet, Melanctha, somehow I feel so really near to you, and you certainly have got an awful wonderful, strong kind of sweetness. I certainly would like to know for sure, Melanctha, whether I got really anything to be afraid for. I certainly did think once, Melanctha, I knew something about all kinds of women. I certainly know now really, how I don't know anything sure at all about you, Melanctha, though I been with you so long, and so many times for whole hours with you, and I like so awful much to be with you, and I can always say anything I am thinking to you. I certainly do awful wish, Melanctha, I really was more understanding. I certainly do that same, Melanctha." + + Jeff stopped now and looked harder than before into the fire. His face changed from his thinking back into that look that was so like as if he was all through and through him, disgusted with what he had been thinking. He sat there a long time, very quiet, and then slowly, somehow, it came strongly to him that Melanctha Herbert, there beside him, was trembling and feeling it all to be very bitter. "Why, Melanctha," cried Jeff Campbell, and he got up and put his arm around her like a brother. "I stood it just so long as I could bear it, Jeff," sobbed Melanctha, and then she gave herself away, to her misery, "I was awful ready, Jeff, to let you say anything you liked that gave you any pleasure. You could say all about me what you wanted, Jeff, and I would try to stand it, so as you would be sure to be liking it, Jeff, but you was too cruel to me. When you do that kind of seeing how much you can make a woman suffer, you ought to give her a little rest, once sometimes, Jeff. They can't any of us stand it so for always, Jeff. I certainly did stand it just as long as I could, so you would like it, but I,--oh Jeff, you went on too long to-night Jeff. I couldn't stand it not a minute longer the way you was doing of it, Jeff. When you want to be seeing how the way a woman is really made of, Jeff, you shouldn't never be so cruel, never to be thinking how much she can stand, the strong way you always do it, Jeff." "Why, Melanctha," cried Jeff Campbell, in his horror, and then he was very tender to her, and like a good, strong, gentle brother in his soothing of her, "Why Melanctha dear, I certainly don't now see what it is you mean by what you was just saying to me. Why Melanctha, you poor little girl, you certainly never did believe I ever knew I was giving you real suffering. Why, Melanctha, how could you ever like me if you thought I ever could be so like a red Indian?" "I didn't just know, Jeff," and Melanctha nestled to him, "I certainly never did know just what it was you wanted to be doing with me, but I certainly wanted you should do anything you liked, you wanted, to make me more understanding for you. I tried awful hard to stand it, Jeff, so as you could do anything you wanted with me." "Good Lord and Jesus Christ, Melanctha!" cried Jeff Campbell. "I certainly never can know anything about you real, Melanctha, you poor little girl," and Jeff drew her closer to him, "But I certainly do admire and trust you a whole lot now, Melanctha. I certainly do, for I certainly never did think I was hurting you at all, Melanctha, by the things I always been saying to you. Melanctha, you poor little, sweet, trembling baby now, be good, Melanctha. I certainly can't ever tell you how awful sorry I am to hurt you so, Melanctha. I do anything I can to show you how I never did mean to hurt you, Melanctha." "I know, I know," murmured Melanctha, clinging to him. "I know you are a good man, Jeff. I always know that, no matter how much you can hurt me." "I sure don't see how you can think so, Melanctha, if you certainly did think I was trying so hard just to hurt you." "Hush, you are only a great big boy, Jeff Campbell, and you don't know nothing yet about real hurting," said Melanctha, smiling up through her crying, at him. "You see, Jeff, I never knew anybody I could know real well and yet keep on always respecting, till I came to know you real well, Jeff." "I sure don't understand that very well, Melanctha. I ain't a bit better than just lots of others of the colored people. You certainly have been unlucky with the kind you met before me, that's all, Melanctha. I certainly ain't very good, Melanctha." "Hush, Jeff, you don't know nothing at all about what you are," said Melanctha. "Perhaps you are right, Melanctha. I don't say ever any more, you ain't right, when you say things to me, Melanctha," and Jefferson sighed, and then he smiled, and then they were quiet a long time together, and then after some more kindness, it was late, and then Jeff left her. + + Jeff Campbell, all these months, had never told his good mother anything about Melanctha Herbert. Somehow he always kept his seeing her so much now, to himself. Melanctha too had never had any of her other friends meet him. They always acted together, these two, as if their being so much together was a secret, but really there was no one who would have made it any harder for them. Jeff Campbell did not really know how it had happened that they were so secret. He did not know if it was what Melanctha wanted. Jeff had never spoken to her at all about it. It just seemed as if it were well understood between them that nobody should know that they were so much together. It was as if it were agreed between them, that they should be alone by themselves always, and so they would work out together what they meant by what they were always saying to each other. + + Jefferson often spoke to Melanctha about his good mother. He never said anything about whether Melanctha would want to meet her. Jefferson never quite understood why all this had happened so, in secret. He never really knew what it was that Melanctha really wanted. In all these ways he just, by his nature, did, what he sort of felt Melanctha wanted. And so they continued to be alone and much together, and now it had come to be the spring time, and now they had all out-doors to wander. + + They had many days now when they were very happy. Jeff every day found that he really liked Melanctha better. Now surely he was beginning to have real, deep feeling in him. And still he loved to talk himself out to Melanctha, and he loved to tell her how good it all was to him, and how he always loved to be with her, and to tell her always all about it. One day, now Jeff arranged, that Sunday they would go out and have a happy, long day in the bright fields, and they would be all day just alone together. The day before, Jeff was called in to see Jane Harden. + + Jane Harden was very sick almost all day and Jeff Campbell did everything he could to make her better. After a while Jane became more easy and then she began to talk to Jeff about Melanctha. Jane did not know how much Jeff was now seeing of Melanctha. Jane these days never saw Melanctha. Jane began to talk of the time when she first knew Melanctha. Jane began to tell how in these days Melanctha had very little understanding. She was young then and she had a good mind. Jane Harden never would say Melanctha never had a good mind, but in those days Melanctha certainly had not been very understanding. Jane began to explain to Jeff Campbell how in every way, she Jane, had taught Melanctha. Jane then began to explain how eager Melanctha always had been for all that kind of learning. Jane Harden began to tell how they had wandered. Jane began to tell how Melanctha once had loved her, Jane Harden. Jane began to tell Jeff of all the bad ways Melanctha had used with her. Jane began to tell all she knew of the way Melanctha had gone on, after she had left her. Jane began to tell all about the different men, white ones and blacks, Melanctha never was particular about things like that, Jane Harden said in passing, not that Melanctha was a bad one, and she had a good mind, Jane Harden never would say that she hadn't, but Melanctha always liked to use all the understanding ways that Jane had taught her, and so she wanted to know everything, always, that they knew how to teach her. + + Jane was beginning to make Jeff Campbell see much clearer. Jane Harden did not know what it was that she was really doing with all this talking. Jane did not know what Jeff was feeling. Jane was always honest when she was talking, and now it just happened she had started talking about her old times with Melanctha Herbert. Jeff understood very well that it was all true what Jane was saying. Jeff Campbell was beginning now to see very clearly. He was beginning to feel very sick inside him. He knew now many things Melanctha had not yet taught him. He felt very sick and his heart was very heavy, and Melanctha certainly did seem very ugly to him. Jeff was at last beginning to know what it was to have deep feeling. He took care a little longer of Jane Harden, and then he went to his other patients, and then he went home to his room, and he sat down and at last he had stopped thinking. He was very sick and his heart was very heavy in him. He was very tired and all the world was very dreary to him, and he knew very well now at last, he was really feeling. He knew it now from the way it hurt him. He knew very well that now at last he was beginning to really have understanding. The next day he had arranged to spend, long and happy, all alone in the spring fields with Melanctha, wandering. He wrote her a note and said he could not go, he had a sick patient and would have to stay home with him. For three days after, he made no sign to Melanctha. He was very sick all these days, and his heart was very heavy in him, and he knew very well that now at last he had learned what it was to have deep feeling. + + At last one day he got a letter from Melanctha. "I certainly don't rightly understand what you are doing now to me Jeff Campbell," wrote Melanctha Herbert. "I certainly don't rightly understand Jeff Campbell why you ain't all these days been near me, but I certainly do suppose it's just another one of the queer kind of ways you have to be good, and repenting of yourself all of a sudden. I certainly don't say to you Jeff Campbell I admire very much the way you take to be good Jeff Campbell. I am sorry Dr. Campbell, but I certainly am afraid I can't stand it no more from you the way you have been just acting. I certainly can't stand it any more the way you act when you have been as if you thought I was always good enough for anybody to have with them, and then you act as if I was a bad one and you always just despise me. I certainly am afraid Dr. Campbell I can't stand it any more like that. I certainly can't stand it any more the way you are always changing. I certainly am afraid Dr. Campbell you ain't man enough to deserve to have anybody care so much to be always with you. I certainly am awful afraid Dr. Campbell I don't ever any more want to really see you. Good-by Dr. Campbell I wish you always to be real happy." + + Jeff Campbell sat in his room, very quiet, a long time, after he got through reading this letter. He sat very still and first he was very angry. As if he, too, did not know very badly what it was to suffer keenly. As if he had not been very strong to stay with Melanctha when he never knew what it was that she really wanted. He knew he was very right to be angry, he knew he really had not been a coward. He knew Melanctha had done many things it was very hard for him to forgive her. He knew very well he had done his best to be kind, and to trust her, and to be loyal to her, and now;--and then Jeff suddenly remembered how one night Melanctha had been so strong to suffer, and he felt come back to him the sweetness in her, and then Jeff knew that really, he always forgave her, and that really, it all was that he was so sorry he had hurt her, and he wanted to go straight away and be a comfort to her. Jeff knew very well, that what Jane Harden had told him about Melanctha and her bad ways, had been a true story, and yet he wanted very badly to be with Melanctha. Perhaps she could teach him to really understand it better. Perhaps she could teach him how it could be all true, and yet how he could be right to believe in her and to trust her. + + Jeff sat down and began his answer to her. "Dear Melanctha," Jeff wrote to her. "I certainly don't think you got it all just right in the letter, I just been reading, that you just wrote me. I certainly don't think you are just fair or very understanding to all I have to suffer to keep straight on to really always to believe in you and trust you. I certainly don't think you always are fair to remember right how hard it is for a man, who thinks like I was always thinking, not to think you do things very bad very often. I certainly don't think, Melanctha, I ain't right when I was so angry when I got your letter to me. I know very well, Melanctha, that with you, I never have been a coward. I find it very hard, and I never said it any different, it is hard to me to be understanding, and to know really what it is you wanted, and what it is you are meaning by what you are always saying to me. I don't say ever, it ain't very hard for you to be standing that I ain't very quick to be following whichever way that you are always leading. You know very well, Melanctha, it hurts me very bad and way inside me when I have to hurt you, but I always got to be real honest with you. There ain't no other way for me to be, with you, and I know very well it hurts me too, a whole lot, when I can't follow so quick as you would have me. I don't like to be a coward to you, Melanctha, and I don't like to say what I ain't meaning to you. And if you don't want me to do things honest, Melanctha, why I can't ever talk to you, and you are right when you say, you never again want to see me, but if you got any real sense of what I always been feeling with you, and if you got any right sense, Melanctha, of how hard I been trying to think and to feel right for you, I will be very glad to come and see you, and to begin again with you. I don't say anything now, Melanctha, about how bad I been this week, since I saw you, Melanctha. It don't ever do any good to talk such things over. All I know is I do my best, Melanctha, to you, and I don't say, no, never, I can do any different than just to be honest and come as fast as I think it's right for me to be going in the ways you teach me to be really understanding. So don't talk any more foolishness, Melanctha, about my always changing. I don't change, never, and I got to do what I think is right and honest to me, and I never told you any different, and you always knew it very well that I always would do just so. If you like me to come and see you to-morrow, and go out with you, I will be very glad to, Melanctha. Let me know right away, what it is you want me to be doing for you, Melanctha. + + Very truly yours, Jefferson Campbell + + "Please come to me, Jeff." Melanctha wrote back for her answer. Jeff went very slowly to Melanctha, glad as he was, still to be going to her. Melanctha came, very quick, to meet him, when she saw him from where she had been watching for him. They went into the house together. They were very glad to be together. They were very good to one another. + + "I certainly did think, Melanctha, this time almost really, you never did want me to come to you at all any more to see you," said Jeff Campbell to her, when they had begun again with their talking to each other. "You certainly did make me think, perhaps really this time, Melanctha, it was all over, my being with you ever, and I was very mad, and very sorry, too, Melanctha." + + "Well you certainly was very bad to me, Jeff Campbell," said Melanctha, fondly. + + "I certainly never do say any more you ain't always right, Melanctha," Jeff answered and he was very ready now with cheerful laughing, "I certainly never do say that any more, Melanctha, if I know it, but still, really, Melanctha, honest, I think perhaps I wasn't real bad to you any more than you just needed from me." + + Jeff held Melanctha in his arms and kissed her. He sighed then and was very silent with her. "Well, Melanctha," he said at last, with some more laughing, "well, Melanctha, any way you can't say ever it ain't, if we are ever friends good and really, you can't say, no, never, but that we certainly have worked right hard to get both of us together for it, so we shall sure deserve it then, if we can ever really get it." "We certainly have worked real hard, Jeff, I can't say that ain't all right the way you say it," said Melanctha. "I certainly never can deny it, Jeff, when I feel so worn with all the trouble you been making for me, you bad boy, Jeff," and then Melanctha smiled and then she sighed, and then she was very silent with him. + + At last Jeff was to go away. They stood there on the steps for a long time trying to say good-by to each other. At last Jeff made himself really say it. At last he made himself, that he went down the steps and went away. + + On the next Sunday they arranged, they were to have the long happy day of wandering that they had lost last time by Jane Harden's talking. Not that Melanctha Herbert had heard yet of Jane Harden's talking. + + Jeff saw Melanctha every day now. Jeff was a little uncertain all this time inside him, for he had never yet told to Melanctha what it was that had so nearly made him really want to leave her. Jeff knew that for him, it was not right he should not tell her. He knew they could only have real peace between them when he had been honest, and had really told her. On this long Sunday Jeff was certain that he would really tell her. + + They were very happy all that day in their wandering. They had taken things along to eat together. They sat in the bright fields and they were happy, they wandered in the woods and they were happy. Jeff always loved in this way to wander. Jeff always loved to watch everything as it was growing, and he loved all the colors in the trees and on the ground, and the little, new, bright colored bugs he found in the moist ground and in the grass he loved to lie on and in which he was always so busy searching. Jeff loved everything that moved and that was still, and that had color, and beauty, and real being. + + Jeff loved very much this day while they were wandering. He almost forgot that he had any trouble with him still inside him. Jeff loved to be there with Melanctha Herbert. She was always so sympathetic to him for the way she listened to everything he found and told her, the way she felt his joy in all this being, the way she never said she wanted anything different from the way they had it. It was certainly a busy and a happy day, this their first long day of really wandering. + + Later they were tired, and Melanctha sat down on the ground, and Jeff threw himself his full length beside her. Jeff lay there, very quiet, and then he pressed her hand and kissed it and murmured to her, "You certainly are very good to me, Melanctha." Melanctha felt it very deep and did not answer. Jeff lay there a long time, looking up above him. He was counting all the little leaves he saw above him. He was following all the little clouds with his eyes as they sailed past him. He watched all the birds that flew high beyond him, and all the time Jeff knew he must tell to Melanctha what it was he knew now, that which Jane Harden, just a week ago, had told him. He knew very well that for him it was certain that he had to say it. It was hard, but for Jeff Campbell the only way to lose it was to say it, the only way to know Melanctha really, was to tell her all the struggle he had made to know her, to tell her so she could help him to understand his trouble better, to help him so that never again he could have any way to doubt her. + + Jeff lay there a long time, very quiet, always looking up above him, and yet feeling very close now to Melanctha. At last he turned a little toward her, took her hands closer in his to make him feel it stronger, and then very slowly, for the words came very hard for him, slowly he began his talk to her. + + "Melanctha," began Jeff, very slowly, "Melanctha, it ain't right I shouldn't tell you why I went away last week and almost never got the chance again to see you. Jane Harden was sick, and I went in to take care of her. She began to tell everything she ever knew about you. She didn't know how well now I know you. I didn't tell her not to go on talking. I listened while she told me everything about you. I certainly found it very hard with what she told me. I know she was talking truth in everything she said about you. I knew you had been free in your ways, Melanctha, I knew you liked to get excitement the way I always hate to see the colored people take it. I didn't know, till I heard Jane Harden say it, you had done things so bad, Melanctha. When Jane Harden told me, I got very sick, Melanctha. I couldn't bear hardly, to think, perhaps I was just another like them to you, Melanctha. I was wrong not to trust you perhaps, Melanctha, but it did make things very ugly to me. I try to be honest to you, Melanctha, the way you say you really want it from me." + + Melanctha drew her hands from Jeff Campbell. She sat there, and there was deep scorn in her anger. + + "If you wasn't all through just selfish and nothing else, Jeff Campbell, you would take care you wouldn't have to tell me things like this, Jeff Campbell." + + Jeff was silent a little, and he waited before he gave his answer. It was not the power of Melanctha's words that held him, for, for them, he had his answer, it was the power of the mood that filled Melanctha, and for that he had no answer. At last he broke through this awe, with his slow fighting resolution, and he began to give his answer. + + "I don't say ever, Melanctha," he began, "it wouldn't have been more right for me to stop Jane Harden in her talking and to come to you to have you tell me what you were when I never knew you. I don't say it, no never to you, that that would not have been the right way for me to do, Melanctha. But I certainly am without any kind of doubting, I certainly do know for sure, I had a good right to know about what you were and your ways and your trying to use your understanding, every kind of way you could to get your learning. I certainly did have a right to know things like that about you, Melanctha. I don't say it ever, Melanctha, and I say it very often, I don't say ever I shouldn't have stopped Jane Harden in her talking and come to you and asked you yourself to tell me all about it, but I guess I wanted to keep myself from how much it would hurt me more, to have you yourself say it to me. Perhaps it was I wanted to keep you from having it hurt you so much more, having you to have to tell it to me. I don't know, I don't say it was to help you from being hurt most, or to help me. Perhaps I was a coward to let Jane Harden tell me 'stead of coming straight to you, to have you tell me, but I certainly am sure, Melanctha, I certainly had a right to know such things about you. I don't say it ever, ever, Melanctha, I hadn't the just right to know those things about you." Melanctha laughed her harsh laugh. "You needn't have been under no kind of worry, Jeff Campbell, about whether you should have asked me. You could have asked, it wouldn't have hurt nothing. I certainly never would have told you nothing." "I am not so sure of that, Melanctha," said Jeff Campbell. "I certainly do think you would have told me. I certainly do think I could make you feel it right to tell me. I certainly do think all I did wrong was to let Jane Harden tell me. I certainly do know I never did wrong, to learn what she told me. I certainly know very well, Melanctha, if I had come here to you, you would have told it all to me, Melanctha." + + He was silent, and this struggle lay there, strong, between them. It was a struggle, sure to be going on always between them. It was a struggle that was as sure always to be going on between them, as their minds and hearts always were to have different ways of working. + + At last Melanctha took his hand, leaned over him and kissed him. "I sure am very fond of you, Jeff Campbell," Melanctha whispered to him. + + Now for a little time there was not any kind of trouble between Jeff Campbell and Melanctha Herbert. They were always together now for long times, and very often. They got much joy now, both of them, from being all the time together. + + It was summer now, and they had warm sunshine to wander. It was summer now, and Jeff Campbell had more time to wander, for colored people never get sick so much in the summer. It was summer now, and there was a lovely silence everywhere, and all the noises, too, that they heard around them were lovely ones, and added to the joy, in these warm days, they loved so much to be together. + + They talked some to each other in these days, did Jeff Campbell and Melanctha Herbert, but always in these days their talking more and more was like it always is with real lovers. Jeff did not talk so much now about what he before always had been thinking. Sometimes Jeff would be, as if he was just waking from himself to be with Melanctha, and then he would find he had been really all the long time with her, and he had really never needed to be doing any thinking. + + It was sometimes pure joy Jeff would be talking to Melanctha, in these warm days he loved so much to wander with her. Sometimes Jeff would lose all himself in a strong feeling. Very often now, and always with more joy in his feeling, he would find himself, he did not know how or what it was he had been thinking. And Melanctha always loved very well to make him feel it. She always now laughed a little at him, and went back a little in him to his before, always thinking, and she teased him with his always now being so good with her in his feeling, and then she would so well and freely, and with her pure, strong ways of reaching, she would give him all the love she knew now very well, how much he always wanted to be sure he really had it. + + And Jeff took it straight now, and he loved it, and he felt, strong, the joy of all this being, and it swelled out full inside him, and he poured it all out back to her in freedom, in tender kindness, and in joy, and in gentle brother fondling. And Melanctha loved him for it always, her Jeff Campbell now, who never did things ugly, for her, like all the men she always knew before always had been doing to her. And they loved it always, more and more, together, with this new feeling they had now, in these long summer days so warm; they, always together now, just these two so dear, more and more to each other always, and the summer evenings when they wandered, and the noises in the full streets, and the music of the organs, and the dancing, and the warm smell of the people, and of dogs and of the horses, and all the joy of the strong, sweet pungent, dirty, moist, warm negro southern summer. + + Every day now, Jeff seemed to be coming nearer, to be really loving. Every day now, Melanctha poured it all out to him, with more freedom. Every day now, they seemed to be having more and more, both together, of this strong, right feeling. More and more every day now they seemed to know more really, what it was each other one was always feeling. More and more now every day Jeff found in himself, he felt more trusting. More and more every day now, he did not think anything in words about what he was always doing. Every day now more and more Melanctha would let out to Jeff her real, strong feeling. + + One day there had been much joy between them, more than they ever yet had had with their new feeling. All the day they had lost themselves in warm wandering. Now they were lying there and resting, with a green, bright, light-flecked world around them. + + What was it that now really happened to them? What was it that Melanctha did, that made everything get all ugly for them? What was it that Melanctha felt then, that made Jeff remember all the feeling he had had in him when Jane Harden told him how Melanctha had learned to be so very understanding? Jeff did not know how it was that it had happened to him. It was all green, and warm, and very lovely to him, and now Melanctha somehow had made it all so ugly for him. What was it Melanctha was now doing with him? What was it he used to be thinking was the right way for him and all the colored people to be always trying to make it right, the way they should be always living? Why was Melanctha Herbert now all so ugly for him? + + Melanctha Herbert somehow had made him feel deeply just then, what very more it was that she wanted from him. Jeff Campbell now felt in him what everybody always had needed to make them really understanding, to him. Jeff felt a strong disgust inside him; not for Melanctha herself, to him, not for himself really, in him, not for what it was that everybody wanted, in them; he only had disgust because he never could know really in him, what it was he wanted, to be really right in understanding, for him, he only had disgust because he never could know really what it was really right to him to be always doing, in the things he had before believed in, the things he before had believed in for himself and for all the colored people, the living regular, and the never wanting to be always having new things, just to keep on, always being in excitements. All the old thinking now came up very strong inside him. He sort of turned away then, and threw Melanctha from him. + + Jeff never, even now, knew what it was that moved him. He never, even now, was ever sure, he really knew what Melanctha was, when she was real herself, and honest. He thought he knew, and then there came to him some moment, just like this one, when she really woke him up to be strong in him. Then he really knew he could know nothing. He knew then, he never could know what it was she really wanted with him. He knew then he never could know really what it was he felt inside him. It was all so mixed up inside him. All he knew was he wanted very badly Melanctha should be there beside him, and he wanted very badly, too, always to throw her from him. What was it really that Melanctha wanted with him? What was it really, he, Jeff Campbell, wanted she should give him? "I certainly did think now," Jeff Campbell groaned inside him, "I certainly did think now I really was knowing all right, what I wanted. I certainly did really think now I was knowing how to be trusting with Melanctha. I certainly did think it was like that now with me sure, after all I've been through all this time with her. And now I certainly do know I don't know anything that's very real about her. Oh the good Lord help and keep me!" and Jeff groaned hard inside him, and he buried his face deep in the green grass underneath him, and Melanctha Herbert was very silent there beside him. + + Then Jeff turned to look and see her. She was lying very still there by him, and the bitter water on her face was biting. Jeff was so very sorry then, all over and inside him, the way he always was when Melanctha had been deep hurt by him. "I didn't mean to be so bad again to you, Melanctha, dear one," and he was very tender to her. "I certainly didn't never mean to go to be so bad to you, Melanctha, darling. I certainly don't know, Melanctha, darling, what it is makes me act so to you sometimes, when I certainly ain't meaning anything like I want to hurt you. I certainly don't mean to be so bad, Melanctha, only it comes so quick on me before I know what I am acting to you. I certainly am all sorry, hard, to be so bad to you, Melanctha, darling." "I suppose, Jeff," said Melanctha, very low and bitter, "I suppose you are always thinking, Jeff, somebody had ought to be ashamed with us two together, and you certainly do think you don't see any way to it, Jeff, for me to be feeling that way ever, so you certainly don't see any way to it, only to do it just so often for me. That certainly is the way always with you, Jeff Campbell, if I understand you right the way you are always acting to me. That certainly is right the way I am saying it to you now, Jeff Campbell. You certainly didn't anyway trust me now no more, did you, when you just acted so bad to me. I certainly am right the way I say it Jeff now to you. I certainly am right when I ask you for it now, to tell me what I ask you, about not trusting me more then again, Jeff, just like you never really knew me. You certainly never did trust me just then, Jeff, you hear me?" "Yes, Melanctha," Jeff answered slowly. Melanctha paused. "I guess I certainly never can forgive you this time, Jeff Campbell," she said firmly. Jeff paused too, and thought a little. "I certainly am afraid you never can no more now again, Melanctha," he said sadly. + + They lay there very quiet now a long time, each one thinking very hard on their own trouble. At last Jeff began again to tell Melanctha what it was he was always thinking with her. "I certainly do know, Melanctha, you certainly now don't want any more to be hearing me just talking, but you see, Melanctha, really, it's just like this way always with me. You see, Melanctha, its like this way now all the time with me. You remember, Melanctha, what I was once telling to you, when I didn't know you very long together, about how I certainly never did know more than just two kinds of ways of living, one way the way it is good to be in families and the other kind of way, like animals are all the time just with each other, and how I didn't ever like that last kind of way much for any of the colored people. You see Melanctha, it's like this way with me. I got a new feeling now, you been teaching to me, just like I told you once, just like a new religion to me, and I see perhaps what really loving is like, like really having everything together, new things, little pieces all different, like I always before been thinking was bad to be having, all go together like, to make one good big feeling. You see, Melanctha, it's certainly like that you make me been seeing, like I never know before any way there was of all kinds of loving to come together to make one way really truly lovely. I see that now, sometimes, the way you certainly been teaching me, Melanctha, really, and then I love you those times, Melanctha, like a real religion, and then it comes over me all sudden, I don't know anything real about you Melanctha, dear one, and then it comes over me sudden, perhaps I certainly am wrong now, thinking all this way so lovely, and not thinking now any more the old way I always before was always thinking, about what was the right way for me, to live regular and all the colored people, and then I think, perhaps, Melanctha you are really just a bad one, and I think, perhaps I certainly am doing it so because I just am too anxious to be just having all the time excitements, like I don't ever like really to be doing when I know it, and then I always get so bad to you, Melanctha, and I can't help it with myself then, never, for I want to be always right really in the ways, I have to do them. I certainly do very badly want to be right, Melanctha, the only way I know is right Melanctha really, and I don't know any way, Melanctha, to find out really, whether my old way, the way I always used to be thinking, or the new way, you make so like a real religion to me sometimes, Melanctha, which way certainly is the real right way for me to be always thinking, and then I certainly am awful good and sorry, Melanctha, I always give you so much trouble, hurting you with the bad ways I am acting. Can't you help me to any way, to make it all straight for me, Melanctha, so I know right and real what it is I should be acting. You see, Melanctha, I don't want always to be a coward with you, if I only could know certain what was the right way for me to be acting. I certainly am real sure, Melanctha, that would be the way I would be acting, if I only knew it sure for certain now, Melanctha. Can't you help me any way to find out real and true, Melanctha, dear one. I certainly do badly want to know always, the way I should be acting." + + "No, Jeff, dear, I certainly can't help you much in that kind of trouble you are always having. All I can do now, Jeff, is to just keep certainly with my believing you are good always, Jeff, and though you certainly do hurt me bad, I always got strong faith in you, Jeff, more in you certainly, than you seem to be having in your acting to me, always so bad, Jeff." + + "You certainly are very good to me, Melanctha, dear one," Jeff said, after a long, tender silence. "You certainly are very good to me, Melanctha, darling, and me so bad to you always, in my acting. Do you love me good, and right, Melanctha, always?" "Always and always, you be sure of that now you have me. Oh you Jeff, you always be so stupid." "I certainly never can say now you ain't right, when you say that to me so, Melanctha," Jeff answered. "Oh, Jeff dear, I love you always, you know that now, all right, for certain. If you don't know it right now, Jeff, really, I prove it to you now, for good and always." And they lay there a long time in their loving, and then Jeff began again with his happy free enjoying. + + "I sure am a good boy to be learning all the time the right way you are teaching me, Melanctha, darling," began Jeff Campbell, laughing, "You can't say no, never, I ain't a good scholar for you to be teaching now, Melanctha, and I am always so ready to come to you every day, and never playing hooky ever from you. You can't say ever, Melanctha, now can you, I ain't a real good boy to be always studying to be learning to be real bright, just like my teacher. You can't say ever to me, I ain't a good boy to you now, Melanctha." "Not near so good, Jeff Campbell, as such a good, patient kind of teacher, like me, who never teaches any ways it ain't good her scholars should be knowing, ought to be really having, Jeff, you hear me? I certainly don't think I am right for you, to be forgiving always, when you are so bad, and I so patient, with all this hard teaching always." "But you do forgive me always, sure, Melanctha, always?" "Always and always, you be sure Jeff, and I certainly am afraid I never can stop with my forgiving, you always are going to be so bad to me, and I always going to have to be so good with my forgiving." "Oh! Oh!" cried Jeff Campbell, laughing, "I ain't going to be so bad for always, sure I ain't, Melanctha, my own darling. And sure you do forgive me really, and sure you love me true and really, sure, Melanctha?" "Sure, sure, Jeff, boy, sure now and always, sure now you believe me, sure you do, Jeff, always." "I sure hope I does, with all my heart, Melanctha, darling." "I sure do that same, Jeff, dear boy, now you really know what it is to be loving, and I prove it to you now so, Jeff, you never can be forgetting. You see now, Jeff, good and certain, what I always before been saying to you, Jeff, now." "Yes, Melanctha, darling," murmured Jeff, and he was very happy in it, and so the two of them now in the warm air of the sultry, southern, negro sunshine, lay there for a long time just resting. + + And now for a real long time there was no open trouble any more between Jeff Campbell and Melanctha Herbert. Then it came that Jeff knew he could not say out any more, what it was he wanted, he could not say out any more, what it was, he wanted to know about, what Melanctha wanted. + + Melanctha sometimes now, when she was tired with being all the time so much excited, when Jeff would talk a long time to her about what was right for them both to be always doing, would be, as if she gave way in her head, and lost herself in a bad feeling. Sometimes when they had been strong in their loving, and Jeff would have rise inside him some strange feeling, and Melanctha felt it in him as it would soon be coming, she would lose herself then in this bad feeling that made her head act as if she never knew what it was they were doing. And slowly now, Jeff soon always came to be feeling that his Melanctha would be hurt very much in her head in the ways he never liked to think of, if she would ever now again have to listen to his trouble, when he was telling about what it was he still was wanting to make things for himself really understanding. + + Now Jeff began to have always a strong feeling that Melanctha could no longer stand it, with all her bad suffering, to let him fight out with himself what was right for him to be doing. Now he felt he must not, when she was there with him, keep on, with this kind of fighting that was always going on inside him. Jeff Campbell never knew yet, what he thought was the right way, for himself and for all the colored people to be living. Jeff was coming always each time closer to be really understanding, but now Melanctha was so bad in her suffering with him, that he knew she could not any longer have him with her while he was always showing that he never really yet was sure what it was, the right way, for them to be really loving. + + Jeff saw now he had to go so fast, so that Melanctha never would have to wait any to get from him always all that she ever wanted. He never could be honest now, he never could be now, any more, trying to be really understanding, for always every moment now he felt it to be a strong thing in him, how very much it was Melanctha Herbert always suffered. + + Jeff did not know very well these days, what it was, was really happening to him. All he knew every now and then, when they were getting strong to get excited, the way they used to when he gave his feeling out so that he could be always honest, that Melanctha somehow never seemed to hear him, she just looked at him and looked as if her head hurt with him, and then Jeff had to keep himself from being honest, and he had to go so fast, and to do everything Melanctha ever wanted from him. + + Jeff did not like it very well these days, in his true feeling. He knew now very well Melanctha was not strong enough inside her to stand any more of his slow way of doing. And yet now he knew he was not honest in his feeling. Now he always had to show more to Melanctha than he was ever feeling. Now she made him go so fast, and he knew it was not real with his feeling, and yet he could not make her suffer so any more because he always was so slow with his feeling. + + It was very hard for Jeff Campbell to make all this way of doing, right, inside him. If Jeff Campbell could not be straight out, and real honest, he never could be very strong inside him. Now Melanctha, with her making him feel, always, how good she was and how very much she suffered in him, made him always go so fast then, he could not be strong then, to feel things out straight then inside him. Always now when he was with her, he was being more, than he could already yet, be feeling for her. Always now, with her, he had something inside him always holding in him, always now, with her, he was far ahead of his own feeling. + + Jeff Campbell never knew very well these days what it was that was going on inside him. All he knew was, he was uneasy now always to be with Melanctha. All he knew was, that he was always uneasy when he was with Melanctha, not the way he used to be from just not being very understanding, but now, because he never could be honest with her, because he was now always feeling her strong suffering, in her, because he knew now he was having a straight, good feeling with her, but she went so fast, and he was so slow to her; Jeff knew his right feeling never got a chance to show itself as strong, to her. + + All this was always getting harder for Jeff Campbell. He was very proud to hold himself to be strong, was Jeff Campbell. He was very tender not to hurt Melanctha, when he knew she would be sure to feel it badly in her head a long time after, he hated that he could not now be honest with her, he wanted to stay away to work it out all alone, without her, he was afraid she would feel it to suffer, if he kept away now from her. He was uneasy always, with her, he was uneasy when he thought about her, he knew now he had a good, straight, strong feeling of right loving for her, and yet now he never could use it to be good and honest with her. + + Jeff Campbell did not know, these days, anything he could do to make it better for her. He did not know anything he could do, to set himself really right in his acting and his thinking toward her. She pulled him so fast with her, and he did not dare to hurt her, and he could not come right, so fast, the way she always needed he should be doing it now, for her. + + These days were not very joyful ones now any more, to Jeff Campbell, with Melanctha. He did not think it out to himself now, in words, about her. He did not know enough, what was his real trouble, with her. + + Sometimes now and again with them, and with all this trouble for a little while well forgotten by him, Jeff, and Melanctha with him, would be very happy in a strong, sweet loving. Sometimes then, Jeff would find himself to be soaring very high in his true loving. Sometimes Jeff would find them, in his loving, his soul swelling out full inside him. Always Jeff felt now in himself, deep feeling. + + Always now Jeff had to go so much faster than was real with his feeling. Yet always Jeff knew how he had a right, strong feeling. Always now when Jeff was wondering, it was Melanctha he was doubting, in the loving. Now he would often ask her, was she real now to him, in her loving. He would ask her often, feeling something queer about it all inside him, though yet he was never really strong in his doubting, and always Melanctha would answer to him, "Yes Jeff, sure, you know it, always," and always Jeff felt a doubt now, in her loving. + + Always now Jeff felt in himself, deep loving. Always now he did not know really, if Melanctha was true in her loving. + + All these days Jeff was uncertain in him, and he was uneasy about which way he should act so as not to be wrong and put them both into bad trouble. Always now he was, as if he must feel deep into Melanctha to see if it was real loving he would find she now had in her, and always he would stop himself, with her, for always he was afraid now that he might badly hurt her. + + Always now he liked it better when he was detained when he had to go and see her. Always now he never liked to go to be with her, although he never wanted really, not to be always with her. Always now he never felt really at ease with her, even when they were good friends together. Always now he felt, with her, he could not be really honest to her. And Jeff never could be happy with her when he could not feel strong to tell all his feeling to her. Always now every day he found it harder to make the time pass, with her, and not let his feeling come so that he would quarrel with her. + + And so one evening, late, he was to go to her. He waited a little long, before he went to her. He was afraid, in himself, to-night, he would surely hurt her. He never wanted to go when he might quarrel with her. + + Melanctha sat there looking very angry, when he came in to her. Jeff took off his hat and coat and then sat down by the fire with her. + + "If you come in much later to me just now, Jeff Campbell, I certainly never would have seen you no more never to speak to you, 'thout your apologising real humble to me." "Apologising Melanctha," and Jeff laughed and was scornful to her, "Apologising, Melanctha, I ain't proud that kind of way, Melanctha, I don't mind apologising to you, Melanctha, all I mind, Melanctha is to be doing of things wrong, to you." "That's easy, to say things that way, Jeff to me. But you never was very proud Jeff, to be courageous to me." "I don't know about that Melanctha. I got courage to say some things hard, when I mean them, to you." "Oh, yes, Jeff, I know all about that, Jeff, to me. But I mean real courage, to run around and not care nothing about what happens, and always to be game in any kind of trouble. That's what I mean by real courage, to me, Jeff, if you want to know it." "Oh, yes, Melanctha, I know all that kind of courage. I see plenty of it all the time with some kinds of colored men and with some girls like you Melanctha, and Jane Harden. I know all about how you are always making a fuss to be proud because you don't holler so much when you run in to where you ain't got any business to be, and so you get hurt, the way you ought to. And then, you kind of people are very brave then, sure, with all your kinds of suffering, but the way I see it, going round with all my patients, that kind of courage makes all kind of trouble, for them who ain't so noble with their courage, and then they got it, always to be bearing it, when the end comes, to be hurt the hardest. It's like running around and being game to spend all your money always, and then a man's wife and children are the ones do all the starving and they don't ever get a name for being brave, and they don't ever want to be doing all that suffering, and they got to stand it and say nothing. That's the way I see it a good deal now with all that kind of braveness in some of the colored people. They always make a lot of noise to show they are so brave not to holler, when they got so much suffering they always bring all on themselves, just by doing things they got no business to be doing. I don't say, never, Melanctha, they ain't got good courage not to holler, but I never did see much in looking for that kind of trouble just to show you ain't going to holler. No its all right being brave every day, just living regular and not having new ways all the time just to get excitements, the way I hate to see it in all the colored people. No I don't see much, Melanctha, in being brave just to get it good, where you've got no business. I ain't ashamed Melanctha, right here to tell you, I ain't ashamed ever to say I ain't got no longing to be brave, just to go around and look for trouble." "Yes that's just like you always, Jeff, you never understand things right, the way you are always feeling in you. You ain't got no way to understand right, how it depends what way somebody goes to look for new things, the way it makes it right for them to get excited." + + "No Melanctha, I certainly never do say I understand much anybody's got a right to think they won't have real bad trouble, if they go and look hard where they are certain sure to find it. No Melanctha, it certainly does sound very pretty all this talking about danger and being game and never hollering, and all that way of talking, but when two men are just fighting, the strong man mostly gets on top with doing good hard pounding, and the man that's getting all that pounding, he mostly never likes it so far as I have been able yet to see it, and I don't see much difference what kind of noble way they are made of when they ain't got any kind of business to get together there to be fighting. That certainly is the only way I ever see it happen right, Melanctha, whenever I happen to be anywhere I can be looking." + + "That's because you never can see anything that ain't just so simple, Jeff, with everybody, the way you always think it. It do make all the difference the kind of way anybody is made to do things game Jeff Campbell." + + "Maybe Melanctha, I certainly never say no you ain't right, Melanctha. I just been telling it to you all straight, Melanctha, the way I always see it. Perhaps if you run around where you ain't got any business, and you stand up very straight and say, I am so brave, nothing can ever ever hurt me, maybe nothing will ever hurt you then Melanctha. I never have seen it do so. I never can say truly any differently to you Melanctha, but I always am ready to be learning from you, Melanctha. And perhaps when somebody cuts into you real hard, with a brick he is throwing, perhaps you never will do any hollering then, Melanctha. I certainly don't ever say no, Melanctha, to you, I only say that ain't the way yet I ever see it happen when I had a chance to be there looking." + + They sat there together, quiet by the fire, and they did not seem to feel very loving. + + "I certainly do wonder," Melanctha said dreamily, at last breaking into their long unloving silence. "I certainly do wonder why always it happens to me I care for anybody who ain't no ways good enough for me ever to be thinking to respect him." + + Jeff looked at Melanctha. Jeff got up then and walked a little up and down the room, and then he came back, and his face was set and dark and he was very quiet to her. + + "Oh dear, Jeff, sure, why you look so solemn now to me. Sure Jeff I never am meaning anything real by what I just been saying. What was I just been saying Jeff to you. I only certainly was just thinking how everything always was just happening to me." + + Jeff Campbell sat very still and dark, and made no answer. + + "Seems to me, Jeff you might be good to me a little to-night when my head hurts so, and I am so tired with all the hard work I have been doing, thinking, and I always got so many things to be a trouble to me, living like I do with nobody ever who can help me. Seems to me you might be good to me Jeff to-night, and not get angry, every little thing I am ever saying to you." + + "I certainly would not get angry ever with you, Melanctha, just because you say things to me. But now I certainly been thinking you really mean what you have been just then saying to me." "But you say all the time to me Jeff, you ain't no ways good enough in your loving to me, you certainly say to me all the time you ain't no ways good or understanding to me." "That certainly is what I say to you always, just the way I feel it to you Melanctha always, and I got it right in me to say it, and I have got a right in me to be very strong and feel it, and to be always sure to believe it, but it ain't right for you Melanctha to feel it. When you feel it so Melanctha, it does certainly make everything all wrong with our loving. It makes it so I certainly never can bear to have it." + + They sat there then a long time by the fire, very silent, and not loving, and never looking to each other for it. Melanctha was moving and twitching herself and very nervous with it. Jeff was heavy and sullen and dark and very serious in it. + + "Oh why can't you forget I said it to you Jeff now, and I certainly am so tired, and my head and all now with it." + + Jeff stirred, "All right Melanctha, don't you go make yourself sick now in your head, feeling so bad with it," and Jeff made himself do it, and he was a patient doctor again now with Melanctha when he felt her really having her head hurt with it. "It's all right now Melanctha darling, sure it is now I tell you. You just lie down now a little, dear one, and I sit here by the fire and just read awhile and just watch with you so I will be here ready, if you need me to give you something to help you resting." And then Jeff was a good doctor to her, and very sweet and tender with her, and Melanctha loved him to be there to help her, and then Melanctha fell asleep a little, and Jeff waited there beside her until he saw she was really sleeping, and then he went back and sat down by the fire. + + And Jeff tried to begin again with his thinking, and he could not make it come clear to himself, with all his thinking, and he felt everything all thick and heavy and bad, now inside him, everything that he could not understand right, with all the hard work he made, with his thinking. And then he moved himself a little, and took a book to forget his thinking, and then as always, he loved it when he was reading, and then very soon he was deep in his reading, and so he forgot now for a little while that he never could seem to be very understanding. + + And so Jeff forgot himself for awhile in his reading, and Melanctha was sleeping. And then Melanctha woke up and she was screaming. "Oh, Jeff, I thought you gone away for always from me. Oh, Jeff, never now go away no more from me. Oh, Jeff, sure, sure, always be just so good to me" + + There was a weight in Jeff Campbell from now on, always with him, that he could never lift out from him, to feel easy. He always was trying not to have it in him and he always was trying not to let Melanctha feel it, with him, but it was always there inside him. Now Jeff Campbell always was serious, and dark, and heavy, and sullen, and he would often sit a long time with Melanctha without moving. + + "You certainly never have forgiven to me, what I said to you that night, Jeff, now have you?" Melanctha asked him after a long silence, late one evening with him. "It ain't ever with me a question like forgiving, Melanctha, I got in me. It's just only what you are feeling for me, makes any difference to me. I ain't ever seen anything since in you, makes me think you didn't mean it right, what you said about not thinking now any more I was good, to make it right for you to be really caring so very much to love me." + + "I certainly never did see no man like you, Jeff. You always wanting to have it all clear out in words always, what everybody is always feeling. I certainly don't see a reason, why I should always be explaining to you what I mean by what I am just saying. And you ain't got no feeling ever for me, to ask me what I meant, by what I was saying when I was so tired, that night. I never know anything right I was saying." "But you don't ever tell me now, Melanctha, so I really hear you say it, you don't mean it the same way, the way you said it to me." "Oh Jeff, you so stupid always to me and always just bothering with your always asking to me. And I don't never any way remember ever anything I been saying to you, and I am always my head, so it hurts me it half kills me, and my heart jumps so, sometimes I think I die so when it hurts me, and I am so blue always, I think sometimes I take something to just kill me, and I got so much to bother thinking always and doing, and I got so much to worry, and all that, and then you come and ask me what I mean by what I was just saying to you. I certainly don't know, Jeff, when you ask me. Seems to me, Jeff, sometimes you might have some kind of a right feeling to be careful to me." "You ain't got no right Melanctha Herbert," flashed out Jeff through his dark, frowning anger, "you certainly ain't got no right always to be using your being hurt and being sick, and having pain, like a weapon, so as to make me do things it ain't never right for me to be doing for you. You certainly ain't got no right to be always holding your pain out to show me." "What do you mean by them words, Jeff Campbell." "I certainly do mean them just like I am saying them, Melanctha. You act always, like I been responsible all myself for all our loving one another. And if its anything anyway that ever hurts you, you act like as if it was me made you just begin it all with me. I ain't no coward, you hear me, Melanctha? I never put my trouble back on anybody, thinking that they made me. I certainly am right ready always, Melanctha, you certainly had ought to know me, to stand all my own trouble for me, but I tell you straight now, the way I think it Melanctha, I ain't going to be as if I was the reason why you wanted to be loving, and to be suffering so now with me." "But ain't you certainly ought to be feeling it so, to be right, Jeff Campbell. Did I ever do anything but just let you do everything you wanted to me. Did I ever try to make you be loving to me. Did I ever do nothing except just sit there ready to endure your loving with me. But I certainly never, Jeff Campbell, did make any kind of way as if I wanted really to be having you for me." + + Jeff stared at Melanctha. "So that's the way you say it when you are thinking right about it all, Melanctha. Well I certainly ain't got a word to say ever to you any more, Melanctha, if that's the way its straight out to you now, Melanctha." And Jeff almost laughed out to her, and he turned to take his hat and coat, and go away now forever from her. + + Melanctha dropped her head on her arms, and she trembled all over and inside her. Jeff stopped a little and looked very sadly at her. Jeff could not so quickly make it right for himself, to leave her. + + "Oh, I certainly shall go crazy now, I certainly know that," Melanctha moaned as she sat there, all fallen and miserable and weak together. + + Jeff came and took her in his arms, and held her. Jeff was very good then to her, but they neither of them felt inside all right, as they once did, to be together. + + From now on, Jeff had real torment in him. + + Was it true what Melanctha had said that night to him? Was it true that he was the one had made all this trouble for them? Was it true, he was the only one, who always had had wrong ways in him? Waking or sleeping Jeff now always had this torment going on inside him. + + Jeff did not know now any more, what to feel within him. He did not know how to begin thinking out this trouble that must always now be bad inside him. He just felt a confused struggle and resentment always in him, a knowing, no, Melanctha was not right in what she had said that night to him, and then a feeling, perhaps he always had been wrong in the way he never could be understanding. And then would come strong to him, a sense of the deep sweetness in Melanctha's loving and a hating the cold slow way he always had to feel things in him. + + Always Jeff knew, sure, Melanctha was wrong in what she had said that night to him, but always Melanctha had had deep feeling with him, always he was poor and slow in the only way he knew how to have any feeling. Jeff knew Melanctha was wrong, and yet he always had a deep doubt in him. What could he know, who had such slow feeling in him? What could he ever know, who always had to find his way with just thinking. What could he know, who had to be taught such a long time to learn about what was really loving? Jeff now always had this torment in him. + + Melanctha was now always making him feel her way, strong whenever she was with him. Did she go on to do it just to show him, did she do it so now because she was no longer loving, did she do it so because that was her way to make him be really loving. Jeff never did know how it was that it all happened so to him. + + Melanctha acted now the way she had said it always had been with them. Now it was always Jeff who had to do the asking. Now it was always Jeff who had to ask when would be the next time he should come to see her. Now always she was good and patient to him, and now always she was kind and loving with him, and always Jeff felt it was, that she was good to give him anything he ever asked or wanted, but never now any more for her own sake to make her happy in him. Now she did these things, as if it was just to please her Jeff Campbell who needed she should now have kindness for him. Always now he was the beggar, with them. Always now Melanctha gave it, not of her need, but from her bounty to him. Always now Jeff found it getting harder for him. + + Sometimes Jeff wanted to tear things away from before him, always now he wanted to fight things and be angry with them, and always now Melanctha was so patient to him. + + Now, deep inside him, there was always a doubt with Jeff, of Melanctha's loving. It was not a doubt yet to make him really doubting, for with that, Jeff never could be really loving, but always now he knew that something, and that not in him, something was wrong with their loving. Jeff Campbell could not know any right way to think out what was inside Melanctha with her loving, he could not use any way now to reach inside her to find if she was true in her loving, but now something had gone wrong between them, and now he never felt sure in him, the way once she had made him, that now at last he really had got to be understanding. + + Melanctha was too many for him. He was helpless to find out the way she really felt now for him. Often Jeff would ask her, did she really love him. Always she said, "Yes Jeff, sure, you know that," and now instead of a full sweet strong love with it, Jeff only felt a patient, kind endurance in it. + + Jeff did not know. If he was right in such a feeling, he certainly never any more did want to have Melanctha Herbert with him. Jeff Campbell hated badly to think Melanctha never would give him love, just for his sake, and not because she needed it herself, to be with him. Such a way of loving would be very hard for Jeff to be enduring. + + "Jeff what makes you act so funny to me. Jeff you certainly now are jealous to me. Sure Jeff, now I don't see ever why you be so foolish to look so to me." "Don't you ever think I can be jealous of anybody ever Melanctha, you hear me. It's just, you certainly don't ever understand me. It's just this way with me always now Melanctha. You love me, and I don't care anything what you do or what you ever been to anybody. You don't love me, then I don't care any more about what you ever do or what you ever be to anybody. But I never want you to be being good Melanctha to me, when it ain't your loving makes you need it. I certainly don't ever want to be having any of your kind of kindness to me. If you don't love me, I can stand it. All I never want to have is your being good to me from kindness. If you don't love me, then you and I certainly do quit right here Melanctha, all strong feeling, to be always living to each other. It certainly never is anybody I ever am thinking about when I am thinking with you Melanctha, darling. That's the true way I am telling you Melanctha, always. It's only your loving me ever gives me anything to bother me Melanctha, so all you got to do, if you don't really love me, is just certainly to say so to me. I won't bother you more then than I can help to keep from it Melanctha. You certainly need never to be in any worry, never, about me Melanctha. You just tell me straight out Melanctha, real, the way you feel it. I certainly can stand it all right, I tell you true Melanctha. And I never will care to know why or nothing Melanctha. Loving is just living Melanctha to me, and if you don't really feel it now Melanctha to me, there ain't ever nothing between us then Melanctha, is there? That's straight and honest just the way I always feel it to you now Melanctha. Oh Melanctha, darling, do you love me? Oh Melanctha, please, please, tell me honest, tell me, do you really love me?" + + "Oh you so stupid Jeff boy, of course I always love you. Always and always Jeff and I always just so good to you. Oh you so stupid Jeff and don't know when you got it good with me. Oh dear, Jeff I certainly am so tired Jeff to-night, don't you go be a bother to me. Yes I love you Jeff, how often you want me to tell you. Oh you so stupid Jeff, but yes I love you. Now I won't say it no more now tonight Jeff, you hear me. You just be good Jeff now to me or else I certainly get awful angry with you. Yes I love you, sure, Jeff, though you don't any way deserve it from me. Yes, yes I love you. Yes Jeff I say it till I certainly am very sleepy. Yes I love you now Jeff, and you certainly must stop asking me to tell you. Oh you great silly boy Jeff Campbell, sure I love you, oh you silly stupid, my own boy Jeff Campbell. Yes I love you and I certainly never won't say it one more time to-night Jeff, now you hear me." + + Yes Jeff Campbell heard her, and he tried hard to believe her. He did not really doubt her but somehow it was wrong now, the way Melanctha said it. Jeff always now felt baffled with Melanctha. Something, he knew, was not right now in her. Something in her always now was making stronger the torment that was tearing every minute at the joy he once always had had with her. + + Always now Jeff wondered did Melanctha love him. Always now he was wondering, was Melanctha right when she said, it was he had made all their beginning. Was Melanctha right when she said, it was he had the real responsibility for all the trouble they had and still were having now between them. If she was right, what a brute he always had been in his acting. If she was right, how good she had been to endure the pain he had made so bad so often for her. But no, surely she had made herself to bear it, for her own sake, not for his to make him happy. Surely he was not so twisted in all his long thinking. Surely he could remember right what it was had happened every day in their long loving. Surely he was not so poor a coward as Melanctha always seemed to be thinking. Surely, surely, and then the torment would get worse every minute in him. + + One night Jeff Campbell was lying in his bed with his thinking, and night after night now he could not do any sleeping for his thinking. Tonight suddenly he sat up in his bed, and it all came clear to him, and he pounded his pillow with his fist, and he almost shouted out alone there to him, "I ain't a brute the way Melanctha has been saying. Its all wrong the way I been worried thinking. We did begin fair, each not for the other but for ourselves, what we were wanting. Melanctha Herbert did it just like I did it, because she liked it bad enough to want to stand it. It's all wrong in me to think it any way except the way we really did it. I certainly don't know now whether she is now real and true in her loving. I ain't got any way ever to find out if she is real and true now always to me. All I know is I didn't ever make her to begin to be with me. Melanctha has got to stand for her own trouble, just like I got to stand for my own trouble. Each man has got to do it for himself when he is in real trouble. Melanctha, she certainly don't remember right when she says I made her begin and then I made her trouble. No by God, I ain't no coward nor a brute either ever to her. I been the way I felt it honest, and that certainly is all about it now between us, and everybody always has just got to stand for their own trouble. I certainly am right this time the way I see it." And Jeff lay down now, at last in comfort, and he slept, and he was free from his long doubting torment. + + "You know Melanctha," Jeff Campbell began, the next time he was alone to talk a long time to Melanctha. "You know Melanctha, sometimes I think a whole lot about what you like to say so much about being game and never doing any hollering. Seems to me Melanctha, I certainly don't understand right what you mean by not hollering. Seems to me it certainly ain't only what comes right away when one is hit, that counts to be brave to be bearing, but all that comes later from your getting sick from the shock of being hurt once in a fight, and all that, and all the being taken care of for years after, and the suffering of your family, and all that, you certainly must stand and not holler, to be certainly really brave the way I understand it." "What you mean Jeff by your talking." "I mean, seems to me really not to holler, is to be strong not to show you ever have been hurt. Seems to me, to get your head hurt from your trouble and to show it, ain't certainly no braver than to say, oh, oh, how bad you hurt me, please don't hurt me mister. It just certainly seems to me, like many people think themselves so game just to stand what we all of us always just got to be standing, and everybody stands it, and we don't certainly none of us like it, and yet we don't ever most of us think we are so much being game, just because we got to stand it." + + "I know what you mean now by what you are saying to me now Jeff Campbell. You make a fuss now to me, because I certainly just have stopped standing everything you like to be always doing so cruel to me. But that's just the way always with you Jeff Campbell, if you want to know it. You ain't got no kind of right feeling for all I always been forgiving to you." "I said it once for fun, Melanctha, but now I certainly do mean it, you think you got a right to go where you got no business, and you say, I am so brave nothing can hurt me, and then something, like always, it happens to hurt you, and you show your hurt always so everybody can see it, and you say, I am so brave nothing did hurt me except he certainly didn't have any right to, and see how bad I suffer, but you never hear me make a holler, though certainly anybody got any feeling, to see me suffer, would certainly never touch me except to take good care of me. Sometimes I certainly don't rightly see Melanctha, how much more game that is than just the ordinary kind of holler." "No, Jeff Campbell, and made the way you is you certainly ain't likely ever to be much more understanding." "No, Melanctha, nor you neither. You think always, you are the only one who ever can do any way to really suffer." "Well, and ain't I certainly always been the only person knows how to bear it. No, Jeff Campbell, I certainly be glad to love anybody really worthy, but I made so, I never seem to be able in this world to find him." "No, and your kind of way of thinking, you certainly Melanctha never going to any way be able ever to be finding of him. Can't you understand Melanctha, ever, how no man certainly ever really can hold your love for long times together. You certainly Melanctha, you ain't got down deep loyal feeling, true inside you, and when you ain't just that moment quick with feeling, then you certainly ain't ever got anything more there to keep you. You see Melanctha, it certainly is this way with you, it is, that you ain't ever got any way to remember right what you been doing, or anybody else that has been feeling with you. You certainly Melanctha, never can remember right, when it comes what you have done and what you think happens to you." "It certainly is all easy for you Jeff Campbell to be talking. You remember right, because you don't remember nothing till you get home with your thinking everything all over, but I certainly don't think much ever of that kind of way of remembering right, Jeff Campbell. I certainly do call it remembering right Jeff Campbell, to remember right just when it happens to you, so you have a right kind of feeling not to act the way you always been doing to me, and then you go home Jeff Campbell, and you begin with your thinking, and then it certainly is very easy for you to be good and forgiving with it. No, that ain't to me, the way of remembering Jeff Campbell, not as I can see it not to make people always suffer, waiting for you certainly to get to do it. Seems to me like Jeff Campbell, I never could feel so like a man was low and to be scorning of him, like that day in the summer, when you threw me off just because you got one of those fits of your remembering. No, Jeff Campbell, its real feeling every moment when its needed, that certainly does seem to me like real remembering. And that way, certainly, you don't never know nothing like what should be right Jeff Campbell. No Jeff, it's me that always certainly has had to bear it with you. It's always me that certainly has had to suffer, while you go home to remember. No you certainly ain't got no sense yet Jeff, what you need to make you really feeling. No, it certainly is me Jeff Campbell, that always has got to be remembering for us both, always. That's what's the true way with us Jeff Campbell, if you want to know what it is I am always thinking." "You is certainly real modest Melanctha, when you do this kind of talking, you sure is Melanctha," said Jeff Campbell laughing. "I think sometimes Melanctha I am certainly awful conceited, when I think sometimes I am all out doors, and I think I certainly am so bright, and better than most everybody I ever got anything now to do with, but when I hear you talk this way Melanctha, I certainly do think I am a real modest kind of fellow." "Modest!" said Melanctha, angry, "Modest, that certainly is a queer thing for you Jeff to be calling yourself even when you are laughing." "Well it certainly does depend a whole lot what you are thinking with," said Jeff Campbell. "I never did use to think I was so much on being real modest Melanctha, but now I know really I am, when I hear you talking. I see all the time there are many people living just as good as I am, though they are a little different to me. Now with you Melanctha if I understand you right what you are talking, you don't think that way of no other one that you are ever knowing." "I certainly could be real modest too, Jeff Campbell," said Melanctha, "If I could meet somebody once I could keep right on respecting when I got so I was really knowing with them. But I certainly never met anybody like that yet, Jeff Campbell, if you want to know it." "No, Melanctha, and with the way you got of thinking, it certainly don't look like as if you ever will Melanctha, with your never remembering anything only what you just then are feeling in you, and you not understanding what any one else is ever feeling, if they don't holler just the way you are doing. No Melanctha, I certainly don't see any ways you are likely ever to meet one, so good as you are always thinking you be." "No, Jeff Campbell, it certainly ain't that way with me at all the way you say it. It's because I am always knowing what it is I am wanting, when I get it. I certainly don't never have to wait till I have it, and then throw away what I got in me, and then come back and say, that's a mistake I just been making, it ain't that never at all like I understood it, I want to have, bad, what I didn't think it was I wanted. It's that way of knowing right what I am wanting, makes me feel nobody can come right with me, when I am feeling things, Jeff Campbell. I certainly do say Jeff Campbell, I certainly don't think much of the way you always do it, always never knowing what it is you are ever really wanting and everybody always got to suffer. No Jeff, I don't certainly think there is much doubting which is better and the stronger with us two, Jeff Campbell." + + "As you will, Melanctha Herbert," cried Jeff Campbell, and he rose up, and he thundered out a black oath, and he was fierce to leave her now forever, and then with the same movement, he took her in his arms and held her. + + "What a silly goose boy you are, Jeff Campbell," Melanctha whispered to him fondly. + + "Oh yes," said Jeff, very dreary. "I never could keep really mad with anybody, not when I was a little boy and playing. I used most to cry sometimes, I couldn't get real mad and keep on a long time with it, the way everybody always did it. It's certainly no use to me Melanctha, I certainly can't ever keep mad with you Melanctha, my dear one. But don't you ever be thinking it's because I think you right in what you been just saying to me. I don't Melanctha really think it that way, honest, though I certainly can't get mad the way I ought to. No Melanctha, little girl, really truly, you ain't right the way you think it. I certainly do know that Melanctha, honest. You certainly don't do me right Melanctha, the way you say you are thinking. Good-bye Melanctha, though you certainly is my own little girl for always." And then they were very good a little to each other, and then Jeff went away for that evening, from her. + + Melanctha had begun now once more to wander. Melanctha did not yet always wander, but a little now she needed to begin to look for others. Now Melanctha Herbert began again to be with some of the better kind of black girls, and with them she sometimes wandered. Melanctha had not yet come again to need to be alone, when she wandered. + + Jeff Campbell did not know that Melanctha had begun again to wander. All Jeff knew, was that now he could not be so often with her. + + Jeff never knew how it had come to happen to him, but now he never thought to go to see Melanctha Herbert, until he had before, asked her if she could be going to have time then to have him with her. Then Melanctha would think a little, and then she would say to him, "Let me see Jeff, to-morrow, you was just saying to me. I certainly am awful busy you know Jeff just now. It certainly does seem to me this week Jeff, I can't anyways fix it. Sure I want to see you soon Jeff. I certainly Jeff got to do a little more now, I been giving so much time, when I had no business, just to be with you when you asked me. Now I guess Jeff, I certainly can't see you no more this week Jeff, the way I got to do things." "All right Melanctha," Jeff would answer and he would be very angry. "I want to come only just certainly as you want me now Melanctha." "Now Jeff you know I certainly can't be neglecting always to be with everybody just to see you. You come see me next week Tuesday Jeff, you hear me. I don't think Jeff I certainly be so busy, Tuesday." Jeff Campbell would then go away and leave her, and he would be hurt and very angry, for it was hard for a man with a great pride in himself, like Jeff Campbell, to feel himself no better than a beggar. And yet he always came as she said he should, on the day she had fixed for him, and always Jeff Campbell was not sure yet that he really understood what it was Melanctha wanted. Always Melanctha said to him, yes she loved him, sure he knew that. Always Melanctha said to him, she certainly did love him just the same as always, only sure he knew now she certainly did seem to be right busy with all she certainly now had to be doing. + + Jeff never knew what Melanctha had to do now, that made her always be so busy, but Jeff Campbell never cared to ask Melanctha such a question. Besides Jeff knew Melanctha Herbert would never, in such a matter, give him any kind of a real answer. Jeff did not know whether it was that Melanctha did not know how to give a simple answer. And then how could he, Jeff, know what was important to her. Jeff Campbell always felt strongly in him, he had no right to interfere with Melanctha in any practical kind of a matter. There they had always, never asked each other any kind of question. There they had felt always in each other, not any right to take care of one another. And Jeff Campbell now felt less than he had ever, any right to claim to know what Melanctha thought it right that she should do in any of her ways of living. All Jeff felt a right in himself to question, was her loving. + + Jeff learned every day now, more and more, how much it was that he could really suffer. Sometimes it hurt so in him, when he was alone, it would force some slow tears from him. But every day, now that Jeff Campbell, knew more how it could hurt him, he lost his feeling of deep awe that he once always had had for Melanctha's feeling. Suffering was not so much after all, thought Jeff Campbell, if even he could feel it so it hurt him. It hurt him bad, just the way he knew he once had hurt Melanctha, and yet he too could have it and not make any kind of a loud holler with it. + + In tender hearted natures, those that mostly never feel strong passion, suffering often comes to make them harder. When these do not know in themselves what it is to suffer, suffering is then very awful to them and they badly want to help everyone who ever has to suffer, and they have a deep reverence for anybody who knows really how to always surfer. But when it comes to them to really suffer, they soon begin to lose their fear and tenderness and wonder. Why it isn't so very much to suffer, when even I can bear to do it. It isn't very pleasant to be having all the time, to stand it, but they are not so much wiser after all, all the others just because they know too how to bear it. + + Passionate natures who have always made themselves, to suffer, that is all the kind of people who have emotions that come to them as sharp as a sensation, they always get more tender-hearted when they suffer, and it always does them good to suffer. Tender-hearted, unpassionate, and comfortable natures always get much harder when they suffer, for so they lose the fear and reverence and wonder they once had for everybody who ever has to suffer, for now they know themselves what it is to suffer and it is not so awful any longer to them when they know too, just as well as all the others, how to have it. + + And so it came in these days to Jeff Campbell. Jeff knew now always, way inside him, what it is to really suffer, and now every day with it, he knew how to understand Melanctha better. Jeff Campbell still loved Melanctha Herbert and he still had a real trust in her and he still had a little hope that some day they would once more get together, but slowly, every day, this hope in him would keep growing always weaker. They still were a good deal of time together, but now they never any more were really trusting with each other. In the days when they used to be together, Jeff had felt he did not know much what was inside Melanctha, but he knew very well, how very deep always was his trust in her; now he knew Melanctha Herbert better, but now he never felt a deep trust in her. Now Jeff never could be really honest with her. He never doubted yet, that she was steady only to him, but somehow he could not believe much really in Melanctha's loving. + + Melanctha Herbert was a little angry now when Jeff asked her, "I never give nobody before Jeff, ever more than one chance with me, and I certainly been giving you most a hundred Jeff, you hear me." "And why shouldn't you Melanctha, give me a million, if you really love me!" Jeff flashed out very angry. "I certainly don't know as you deserve that anyways from me, Jeff Campbell." "It ain't deserving, I am ever talking about to you Melanctha. Its loving, and if you are really loving to me you won't certainly never any ways call them chances." "Deed Jeff, you certainly are getting awful wise Jeff now, ain't you, to me." "No I ain't Melanctha, and I ain't jealous either to you. I just am doubting from the way you are always acting to me." "Oh yes Jeff, that's what they all say, the same way, when they certainly got jealousy all through them. You ain't got no cause to be jealous with me Jeff, and I am awful tired of all this talking now, you hear me." + + Jeff Campbell never asked Melanctha any more if she loved him. Now things were always getting worse between them. Now Jeff was always very silent with Melanctha. Now Jeff never wanted to be honest to her, and now Jeff never had much to say to her. + + Now when they were together, it was Melanctha always did most of the talking. Now she often had other girls there with her. Melanctha was always kind to Jeff Campbell but she never seemed to need to be alone now with him. She always treated Jeff, like her best friend, and she always spoke so to him and yet she never seemed now to very often want to see him. + + Every day it was getting harder for Jeff Campbell. It was as if now, when he had learned to really love Melanctha, she did not need any more to have him. Jeff began to know this very well inside him. + + Jeff Campbell did not know yet that Melanctha had begun again to wander. Jeff was not very quick to suspect Melanctha. All Jeff knew was, that he did not trust her to be now really loving to him. + + Jeff was no longer now in any doubt inside him. He knew very well now he really loved Melanctha. He knew now very well she was not any more a real religion to him. Jeff Campbell knew very well too now inside him, he did not really want Melanctha, now if he could no longer trust her, though he loved her hard and really knew now what it was to suffer. + + Every day Melanctha Herbert was less and less near to him. She always was very pleasant in her talk and to be with him, but somehow now it never was any comfort to him. + + Melanctha Herbert now always had a lot of friends around her. Jeff Campbell never wanted to be with them. Now Melanctha began to find it, she said it often to him, always harder to arrange to be alone now with him. Sometimes she would be late for him. Then Jeff always would try to be patient in his waiting, for Jeff Campbell knew very well how to remember, and he knew it was only right that he should now endure this from her. + + Then Melanctha began to manage often not to see him, and once she went away when she had promised to be there to meet him. + + Then Jeff Campbell was really filled up with his anger. Now he knew he could never really want her. Now he knew he never any more could really trust her. + + Jeff Campbell never knew why Melanctha had not come to meet him. Jeff had heard a little talking now, about how Melanctha Herbert had commenced once more to wander. Jeff Campbell still sometimes saw Jane Harden, who always needed a doctor to be often there to help her. Jane Harden always knew very well what happened to Melanctha. Jeff Campbell never would talk to Jane Harden anything about Melanctha. Jeff was always loyal to Melanctha. Jeff never let Jane Harden say much to him about Melanctha, though he never let her know that now he loved her. But somehow Jeff did know now about Melanctha, and he knew about some men that Melanctha met with Rose Johnson very often. + + Jeff Campbell would not let himself really doubt Melanctha, but Jeff began to know now very well, he did not want her. Melanctha Herbert did not love him ever, Jeff knew it now, the way he once had thought that she could feel it. Once she had been greater for him than he had thought he could ever know how to feel it. Now Jeff had come to where he could understand Melanctha Herbert. Jeff was not bitter to her because she could not really love him, he was bitter only that he had let himself have a real illusion in him. He was a little bitter too, that he had lost now, what he had always felt real in the world, that had made it for him always full of beauty, and now he had not got this new religion really, and he had lost what he before had to know what was good and had real beauty. + + Jeff Campbell was so angry now in him, because he had begged Melanctha always to be honest to him. Jeff could stand it in her not to love him, he could not stand it in her not to be honest to him. + + Jeff Campbell went home from where Melanctha had not met him, and he was sore and full of anger in him. + + Jeff Campbell could not be sure what to do, to make it right inside him. Surely he must be strong now and cast this loving from him, and yet, was he sure he now had real wisdom in him. Was he sure that Melanctha Herbert never had had a real deep loving for him. Was he sure Melanctha Herbert never had deserved a reverence from him. Always now Jeff had this torment in him, but always now he felt more that Melanctha never had real greatness for him. + + Jeff waited to see if Melanctha would send any word to him. Melanctha Herbert never sent a line to him. + + At last Jeff wrote his letter to Melanctha. "Dear Melanctha, I certainly do know you ain't been any way sick this last week when you never met me right the way you promised, and never sent me any word to say why you acted a way you certainly never could think was the right way you should do it to me. Jane Harden said she saw you that day and you went out walking with some people you like now to be with. Don't be misunderstanding me now any more Melanctha. I love you now because that's my slow way to learn what you been teaching, but I know now you certainly never had what seems to me real kind of feeling. I don't love you Melanctha any more now like a real religion, because now I know you are just made like all us others. I know now no man can ever really hold you because no man can ever be real to trust in you, because you mean right Melanctha, but you never can remember, and so you certainly never have got any way to be honest. So please you understand me right now Melanctha, it never is I don't know how to love you. I do know now how to love you, Melanctha, really. You sure do know that, Melanctha, in me. You certainly always can trust me. And so now Melanctha, I can say to you certainly real honest with you, I am better than you are in my right kind of feeling. And so Melanctha, I don't never any more want to be a trouble to you. You certainly make me see things Melanctha, I never any other way could be knowing. You been very good and patient to me, when I was certainly below you in my right feeling. I certainly never have been near so good and patient to you every any way Melanctha, I certainly know that Melanctha. But Melanctha, with me, it certainly is, always to be good together, two people certainly must be thinking each one as good as the other, to be really loving right Melanctha. And it certainly must never be any kind of feeling, of one only taking, and one only just giving, Melanctha, to me. I know you certainly don't really ever understand me now Melanctha, but that's no matter. I certainly do know what I am feeling now with you real Melanctha. And so good-bye now for good Melanctha. I say I can never ever really trust you real Melanctha, that's only just certainly from your way of not being ever equal in your feeling to anybody real, Melanctha, and your way never to know right how to remember. Many ways I really trust you deep Melanctha, and I certainly do feel deep all the good sweetness you certainly got real in you Melanctha. Its only just in your loving me Melanctha. You never can be equal to me and that way I certainly never can bear any more to have it. And so now Melanctha, I always be your friend, if you need me, and now we never see each other any more to talk to." + + And then Jeff Campbell thought and thought, and he could never make any way for him now, to see it different, and so at last he sent this letter to Melanctha. + + And now surely it was all over in Jeff Campbell. Surely now he never any more could know Melanctha. And yet, perhaps Melanctha really loved him. And then she would know how much it hurt him never any more, any way, to see her, and perhaps she would write a line to tell him. But that was a foolish way for Jeff ever to be thinking. Of course Melanctha never would write a word to him. It was all over now for always, everything between them, and Jeff felt it a real relief to him. + + For many days now Jeff Campbell only felt it as a relief in him. Jeff was all locked up and quiet now inside him. It was all settling down heavy in him, and these days when it was sinking so deep in him, it was only the rest and quiet of not fighting that he could really feel inside him. Jeff Campbell could not think now, or feel anything else in him. He had no beauty nor any goodness to see around him. It was a dull, pleasant kind of quiet he now had inside him. Jeff almost began to love this dull quiet in him, for it was more nearly being free for him than anything he had known in him since Melanctha Herbert first had moved him. He did not find it a real rest yet for him, he had not really conquered what had been working so long in him, he had not learned to see beauty and real goodness yet in what had happened to him, but it was rest even if he was sodden now all through him. Jeff Campbell liked it very well, not to have fighting always going on inside him. + + And so Jeff went on every day, and he was quiet, and he began again to watch himself in his working; and he did not see any beauty now around him, and it was dull and heavy always now inside him, and yet he was content to have gone so far in keeping steady to what he knew was the right way for him to come back to, to be regular, and see beauty in every kind of quiet way of living, the way he had always wanted it for himself and for all the colored people. He knew he had lost the sense he once had of joy all through him, but he could work, and perhaps he would bring some real belief back into him about the beauty that he could not now any more see around him. + + And so Jeff Campbell went on with his working, and he staid home every evening, and he began again with his reading, and he did not do much talking, and he did not seem to himself to have any kind of feeling. + + And one day Jeff thought perhaps he really was forgetting, one day he thought he could soon come back and be happy in his old way of regular and quiet living. + + Jeff Campbell had never talked to any one of what had been going on inside him. Jeff Campbell liked to talk and he was honest, but it never came out from him, anything he was ever really feeling, it only came out from him, what it was that he was always thinking. Jeff Campbell always was very proud to hide what he was really feeling. Always he blushed hot to think things he had been feeling. Only to Melanctha Herbert, had it ever come to him, to tell what it was that he was feeling. + + And so Jeff Campbell went on with this dull and sodden, heavy, quiet always in him, and he never seemed to be able to have any feeling. Only sometimes he shivered hot with shame when he remembered some things he once had been feeling. And then one day it all woke up, and was sharp in him. + + Dr. Campbell was just then staying long times with a sick man who might soon be dying. One day the sick man was resting. Dr. Campbell went to the window to look out a little, while he was waiting. It was very early now in the southern springtime. The trees were just beginning to get the little zigzag crinkles in them, which the young buds always give them. The air was soft and moist and pleasant to them. The earth was wet and rich and smelling for them. The birds were making sharp fresh noises all around them. The wind was very gentle and yet urgent to them. And the buds and the long earthworms, and the negroes, and all the kinds of children, were coming out every minute farther into the new spring, watery, southern sunshine. + + Jeff Campbell too began to feel a little his old joy inside him. The sodden quiet began to break up in him. He leaned far out of the window to mix it all up with him. His heart went sharp and then it almost stopped inside him. Was it Melanctha Herbert he had just seen passing by him? Was it Melanctha, or was it just some other girl, who made him feel so bad inside him? Well, it was no matter, Melanctha was there in the world around him, he did certainly always know that in him. Melanctha Herbert was always in the same town with him, and he could never any more feel her near him. What a fool he was to throw her from him. Did he know she did not really love him. Suppose Melanctha was now suffering through him. Suppose she really would be glad to see him. And did anything else he did, really mean anything now to him? What a fool he was to cast her from him. And yet did Melanctha Herbert want him, was she honest to him, had Melanctha ever loved him, and did Melanctha now suffer by him? Oh! Oh! Oh! and the bitter water once more rose up in him. + + All that long day, with the warm moist young spring stirring in him, Jeff Campbell worked, and thought, and beat his breast, and wandered, and spoke aloud, and was silent, and was certain, and then in doubt and then keen to surely feel, and then all sodden in him; and he walked, and he sometimes ran fast to lose himself in his rushing, and he bit his nails to pain and bleeding, and he tore his hair so that he could be sure he was really feeling, and he never could know what it was right, he now should be doing. And then late that night he wrote it all out to Melanctha Herbert, and he made himself quickly send it without giving himself any time to change it. + + "It has come to me strong to-day Melanctha, perhaps I am wrong the way I now am thinking. Perhaps you do want me badly to be with you. Perhaps I have hurt you once again the way I used to. I certainly Melanctha, if I ever think that really, I certainly do want bad not to be wrong now ever any more to you. If you do feel the way to-day it came to me strong maybe you are feeling, then say so Melanctha to me, and I come again to see you. If not, don't say anything any more ever to me. I don't want ever to be bad to you Melanctha, really. I never want ever to be a bother to you. I never can stand it to think I am wrong; really, thinking you don't want me to come to you. Tell me Melanctha, tell me honest to me, shall I come now any more to see you." "Yes" came the answer from Melanctha, "I be home Jeff to-night to see you." + + Jeff Campbell went that evening late to see Melanctha Herbert. As Jeff came nearer to her, he doubted that he wanted really to be with her, he felt that he did not know what it was he now wanted from her. Jeff Campbell knew very well now, way inside him, that they could never talk their trouble out between them. What was it Jeff wanted now to tell Melanctha Herbert? What was it that Jeff Campbell now could tell her? Surely he never now could learn to trust her. Surely Jeff knew very well all that Melanctha always had inside her. And yet it was awful, never any more to see her. + + Jeff Campbell went in to Melanctha, and he kissed her, and he held her, and then he went away from her and he stood still and looked at her. "Well Jeff!" "Yes Melanctha!" "Jeff what was it made you act so to me?" "You know very well Melanctha, it's always I am thinking you don't love me, and you are acting to me good out of kindness, and then Melanctha you certainly never did say anything to me why you never came to meet me, as you certainly did promise to me you would that day I never saw you!" "Jeff don't you really know for certain, I always love you?" "No Melanctha, deed I don't know it in me. Deed and certain sure Melanctha, if I only know that in me, I certainly never would give you any bother." "Jeff, I certainly do love you more seems to me always, you certainly had ought to feel that in you." "Sure Melanctha?" "Sure Jeff boy, you know that." "But then Melanctha why did you act so to me?" "Oh Jeff you certainly been such a bother to me. I just had to go away that day Jeff, and I certainly didn't mean not to tell you, and then that letter you wrote came to me and something happened to me. I don't know right what it was Jeff, I just kind of fainted, and what could I do Jeff, you said you certainly never any more wanted to come and see me!" "And no matter Melanctha, even if you knew, it was just killing me to act so to you, you never would have said nothing to me?" "No of course, how could I Jeff when you wrote that way to me. I know how you was feeling Jeff to me, but I certainly couldn't say nothing to you." "Well Melanctha, I certainly know I am right proud too in me, but I certainly never could act so to you Melanctha, if I ever knew any way at all you ever really loved me. No Melanctha darling, you and me certainly don't feel much the same way ever. Any way Melanctha, I certainly do love you true Melanctha." "And I love you too Jeff, even though you don't never certainly seem to believe me." "No I certainly don't any way believe you Melanctha, even when you say it to me. I don't know Melanctha how, but sure I certainly do trust you, only I don't believe now ever in your really being loving to me. I certainly do know you trust me always Melanctha, only somehow it ain't ever all right to me. I certainly don't know any way otherwise Melanctha, how I can say it to you." "Well I certainly can't help you no ways any more Jeff Campbell, though you certainly say it right when you say I trust you Jeff now always. You certainly is the best man Jeff Campbell, I ever can know, to me. I never been anyways thinking it can be ever different to me." "Well you trust me then Melanctha, and I certainly love you Melanctha, and seems like to me Melanctha, you and me had ought to be a little better than we certainly ever are doing now to be together. You certainly do think that way, too, Melanctha to me. But may be you do really love me. Tell me, please, real honest now Melanctha darling, tell me so I really always know it in me, do you really truly love me?" "Oh you stupid, stupid boy, Jeff Campbell. Love you, what do you think makes me always to forgive you. If I certainly didn't always love you Jeff, I certainly never would let you be always being all the time such a bother to me the way you certainly Jeff always are to me. Now don't you dass ever any more say words like that ever to me. You hear me now Jeff, or I do something real bad sometime, so I really hurt you. Now Jeff you just be good to me. You know Jeff how bad I need it, now you should always be good to me!" + + Jeff Campbell could not make an answer to Melanctha. What was it he should now say to her? What words could help him to make their feeling any better? Jeff Campbell knew that he had learned to love deeply, that, he always knew very well now in him, Melanctha had learned to be strong to be always trusting, that he knew too now inside him, but Melanctha did not really love him, that he felt always too strong for him. That fact always was there in him, and it always thrust itself firm, between them. And so this talk did not make things really better for them. + + Jeff Campbell was never any more a torment to Melanctha, he was only silent to her. Jeff often saw Melanctha and he was very friendly with her and he never any more was a bother to her. Jeff never any more now had much chance to be loving with her. Melanctha never was alone now when he saw her. + + Melanctha Herbert had just been getting thick in her trouble with Jeff Campbell, when she went to that church where she first met Rose, who later was married regularly to Sam Johnson. Rose was a good-looking, better kind of black girl, and had been brought up quite like their own child by white folks. Rose was living now with colored people. Rose was staying just then with a colored woman, who had known 'Mis' Herbert and her black husband and this girl Melanctha. + + Rose soon got to like Melanctha Herbert and Melanctha now always wanted to be with Rose, whenever she could do it. Melanctha Herbert always was doing everything for Rose that she could think of that Rose ever wanted. Rose always liked to be with nice people who would do things for her. Rose had strong common sense and she was lazy. Rose liked Melanctha Herbert, she had such kind of fine ways in her. Then, too, Rose had it in her to be sorry for the subtle, sweet-natured, docile, intelligent Melanctha Herbert who always was so blue sometimes, and always had had so much trouble. Then, too, Rose could scold Melanctha, for Melanctha Herbert never could know how to keep herself from trouble, and Rose was always strong to keep straight, with her simple selfish wisdom. + + But why did the subtle, intelligent, attractive, half white girl Melanctha Herbert, with her sweetness and her power and her wisdom, demean herself to do for and to flatter and to be scolded, by this lazy, stupid, ordinary, selfish black girl. This was a queer thing in Melanctha Herbert. + + And so now in these new spring days, it was with Rose that Melanctha began again to wander. Rose always knew very well in herself what was the right way to do when you wandered. Rose knew very well, she was not just any common kind of black girl, for she had been raised by white folks, and Rose always saw to it that she was engaged to him when she had any one man with whom she ever always wandered. Rose always had strong in her the sense for proper conduct. Rose always was telling the complex and less sure Melanctha, what was the right way she should do when she wandered. + + Rose never knew much about Jeff Campbell with Melanctha Herbert. Rose had not known about Melanctha Herbert when she had been almost all her time with Dr. Campbell. + + Jeff Campbell did not like Rose when he saw her with Melanctha. Jeff would never, when he could help it, meet her. Rose did not think much about Dr. Campbell. Melanctha never talked much about him to her. He was not important now to be with her. + + Rose did not like Melanctha's old friend Jane Harden when she saw her. Jane despised Rose for an ordinary, stupid, sullen black girl. Jane could not see what Melanctha could find in that black girl, to endure her. It made Jane sick to see her. But then Melanctha had a good mind, but she certainly never did care much to really use it. Jane Harden now really never cared any more to see Melanctha, though Melanctha still always tried to be good to her. And Rose, she hated that stuck up, mean speaking, nasty, drunk thing, Jane Harden. Rose did not see how Melanctha could bear to ever see her, but Melanctha always was so good to everybody, she never would know how to act to people the way they deserved that she should do it. + + Rose did not know much about Melanctha, and Jeff Campbell and Jane Harden. All Rose knew about Melanctha was her old life with her mother and her father. Rose was always glad to be good to poor Melanctha, who had had such an awful time with her mother and her father, and now she was alone and had nobody who could help her. "He was a awful black man to you Melanctha, I like to get my hands on him so he certainly could feel it. I just would Melanctha, now you hear me." + + Perhaps it was this simple faith and simple anger and simple moral way of doing in Rose, that Melanctha now found such a comfort to her. Rose was selfish and was stupid and was lazy, but she was decent and knew always what was the right way she should do, and what she wanted, and she certainly did admire how bright was her friend Melanctha Herbert, and she certainly did feel how very much it was she always suffered and she scolded her to keep her from more trouble, and she never was angry when she found some of the different ways Melanctha Herbert sometimes had to do it. + + And so always Rose and Melanctha were more and more together, and Jeff Campbell could now hardly ever any more be alone with Melanctha. + + Once Jeff had to go away to another town to see a sick man. "When I come back Monday Melanctha, I come Monday evening to see you. You be home alone once Melanctha to see me." "Sure Jeff, I be glad to see you!" + + When Jeff Campbell came to his house on Monday there was a note there from Melanctha. Could Jeff come day after to-morrow, Wednesday? Melanctha was so sorry she had to go out that evening. She was awful sorry and she hoped Jeff would not be angry. + + Jeff was angry and he swore a little, and then he laughed, and then he sighed. "Poor Melanctha, she don't know any way to be real honest, but no matter, I sure do love her and I be good if only she will let me." + + Jeff Campbell went Wednesday night to see Melanctha. Jeff Campbell took her in his arms and kissed her. "I certainly am awful sorry not to see you Jeff Monday, the way I promised, but I just couldn't Jeff, no way I could fix it." Jeff looked at her and then he laughed a little at her. "You want me to believe that really now Melanctha. All right I believe it if you want me to Melanctha. I certainly be good to you to-night the way you like it. I believe you certainly did want to see me Melanctha, and there was no way you could fix it." "Oh Jeff dear," said Melanctha, "I sure was wrong to act so to you. It's awful hard for me ever to say it to you, I have been wrong in my acting to you, but I certainly was bad this time Jeff to you. It do certainly come hard to me to say it Jeff, but I certainly was wrong to go away from you the way I did it. Only you always certainly been so bad Jeff, and such a bother to me, and making everything always so hard for me, and I certainly got some way to do it to make it come back sometimes to you. You bad boy Jeff, now you hear me, and this certainly is the first time Jeff I ever yet said it to anybody, I ever been wrong, Jeff, you hear me!" "All right Melanctha, I sure do forgive you, cause it's certainly the first time I ever heard you say you ever did anything wrong the way you shouldn't," and Jeff Campbell laughed and kissed her, and Melanctha laughed and loved him, and they really were happy now for a little time together. + + And now they were very happy in each other and then they were silent and then they became a little sadder and then they were very quiet once more with each other. + + "Yes I certainly do love you Jeff!" Melanctha said and she was very dreamy. "Sure, Melanctha." "Yes Jeff sure, but not the way you are now ever thinking. I love you more and more seems to me Jeff always, and I certainly do trust you more and more always to me when I know you. I do love you Jeff, sure yes, but not the kind of way of loving you are ever thinking it now Jeff with me. I ain't got certainly no hot passion any more now in me. You certainly have killed all that kind of feeling now Jeff in me. You certainly do know that Jeff, now the way I am always, when I am loving with you. You certainly do know that Jeff, and that's the way you certainly do like it now in me. You certainly don't mind now Jeff, to hear me say this to you." + + Jeff Campbell was hurt so that it almost killed him. Yes he certainly did know now what it was to have real hot love in him, and yet Melanctha certainly was right, he did not deserve she should ever give it to him. "All right Melanctha I ain't ever kicking. I always will give you certainly always everything you want that I got in me. I take anything you want now to give me. I don't say never Melanctha it don't hurt me, but I certainly don't say ever Melanctha it ought ever to be any different to me." And the bitter tears rose up in Jeff Campbell, and they came and choked his voice to be silent, and he held himself hard to keep from breaking. + + "Good-night Melanctha," and Jeff was very humble to her. "Goodnight Jeff, I certainly never did mean any way to hurt you. I do love you, sure Jeff every day more and more, all the time I know you." "I know Melanctha, I know, it's never nothing to me. You can't help it, anybody ever the way they are feeling. It's all right now Melanctha, you believe me, good-night now Melanctha, I got now to leave you, good-by Melanctha, sure don't look so worried to me, sure Melanctha I come again soon to see you." And then Jeff stumbled down the steps, and he went away fast to leave her. + + And now the pain came hard and harder in Jeff Campbell, and he groaned, and it hurt him so, he could not bear it. And the tears came, and his heart beat, and he was hot and worn and bitter in him. + + Now Jeff knew very well what it was to love Melanctha. Now Jeff Campbell knew he was really understanding. Now Jeff knew what it was to be good to Melanctha. Now Jeff was good to her always. + + Slowly Jeff felt it a comfort in him to have it hurt so, and to be good to Melanctha always. Now there was no way Melanctha ever had had to bear things from him, worse than he now had it in him. Now Jeff was strong inside him. Now with all the pain there was peace in him. Now he knew he was understanding, now he knew he had a hot love in him, and he was good always to Melanctha Herbert who was the one had made him have it. Now he knew he could be good, and not cry out for help to her to teach him how to bear it. Every day Jeff felt himself more a strong man, the way he once had thought was his real self, the way he knew it. Now Jeff Campbell had real wisdom in him, and it did not make him bitter when it hurt him, for Jeff knew now all through him that he was really strong to bear it. + + And so now Jeff Campbell could see Melanctha often, and he was patient, and always very friendly to her, and every day Jeff Campbell understood Melanctha Herbert better. And always Jeff saw Melanctha could not love him the way he needed she should do it. Melanctha Herbert had no way she ever really could remember. + + And now Jeff knew there was a man Melanctha met very often, and perhaps she wanted to try to have this man to be good, for her. Jeff Campbell never saw the man Melanctha Herbert perhaps now wanted. Jeff Campbell only knew very well that there was one. Then there was Rose that Melanctha now always had with her when she wandered. + + Jeff Campbell was very quiet to Melanctha. He said to her, now he thought he did not want to come any more especially to see her. When they met, he always would be glad to see her, but now he never would go anywhere any more to meet her. Sure he knew she always would have a deep love in him for her. Sure she knew that. "Yes Jeff, I always trust you Jeff, I certainly do know that all right." Jeff Campbell said, all right he never could say anything to reproach her. She knew always that he really had learned all through him how to love her. "Yes, Jeff, I certainly do know that." She knew now she could always trust him. Jeff always would be loyal to her though now she never was any more to him like a religion, but he never could forget the real sweetness in her. That Jeff must remember always, though now he never can trust her to be really loving to any man for always, she never did have any way she ever could remember. If she ever needed anybody to be good to her, Jeff Campbell always would do anything he could to help her. He never can forget the things she taught him so he could be really understanding, but he never any more wants to see her. He be like a brother to her always, when she needs it, and he always will be a good friend to her. Jeff Campbell certainly was sorry never any more to see her, but it was good that they now knew each other really. "Good-bye Jeff you always been very good always to me." "Good-bye Melanctha you know you always can trust yourself to me." "Yes, I know, I know Jeff, really." "I certainly got to go now Melanctha, from you. I go this time, Melanctha really," and Jeff Campbell went away and this time he never looked back to her. This time Jeff Campbell just broke away and left her. + + Jeff Campbell loved to think now he was strong again to be quiet, and to live regular, and to do everything the way he wanted it to be right for himself and all the colored people. Jeff went away for a little while to another town to work there, and he worked hard, and he was very sad inside him, and sometimes the tears would rise up in him, and then he would work hard, and then he would begin once more to see some beauty in the world around him. Jeff had behaved right and he had learned to have a real love in him. That was very good to have inside him. + + Jeff Campbell never could forget the sweetness in Melanctha Herbert, and he was always very friendly to her, but they never any more came close to one another. More and more Jeff Campbell and Melanctha fell away from all knowing of each other, but Jeff never could forget Melanctha. Jeff never could forget the real sweetness she had in her, but Jeff never any more had the sense of a real religion for her. Jeff always had strong in him the meaning of all the new kind of beauty Melanctha Herbert once had shown him, and always more and more it helped him with his working for himself and for all the colored people. + + Melanctha Herbert, now that she was all through with Jeff Campbell, was free to be with Rose and the new men she met now. + + Rose was always now with Melanctha Herbert. Rose never found any way to get excited. Rose always was telling Melanctha Herbert the right way she should do, so that she would not always be in trouble. But Melanctha Herbert could not help it, always she would find new ways to get excited. + + Melanctha was all ready now to find new ways to be in trouble. And yet Melanctha Herbert never wanted not to do right. Always Melanctha Herbert wanted peace and quiet, and always she could only find new ways to get excited. + + "Melanctha," Rose would say to her, "Melanctha, I certainly have got to tell you, you ain't right to act so with that kind of feller. You better just had stick to black men now, Melanctha, you hear me what I tell you, just the way you always see me do it. They're real bad men, now I tell you Melanctha true, and you better had hear to me. I been raised by real nice kind of white folks, Melanctha, and I certainly knows awful well, soon as ever I can see 'em acting, what is a white man will act decent to you and the kind it ain't never no good to a colored girl to ever go with. Now you know real Melanctha how I always mean right good to you, and you ain't got no way like me Melanctha, what was raised by white folks, to know right what is the way you should be acting with men. I don't never want to see you have bad trouble come hard to you now Melanctha, and so you just hear to me now Melanctha, what I tell you, for I knows it. I don't say never certainly to you Melanctha, you never had ought to have nothing to do ever with no white men, though it ain't never to me Melanctha, the best kind of a way a colored girl can have to be acting, no I never do say to you Melanctha, you hadn't never ought to be with white men, though it ain't never the way I feel it ever real, right for a decent colored girl to be always doing, but not never Melanctha, now you hear me, no not never no kind of white men like you been with always now Melanctha when I see you. You just hear to me Melanctha, you certainly had ought to hear to me Melanctha, I say it just like I knows it awful well, Melanctha, and I knows you don't know no better, Melanctha, how to act so, the ways I seen it with them kind of white fellers, them as never can know what to do right by a decent girl they have ever got to be with them. Now you hear to me Melanctha, what I tell you." + + And so it was Melanctha Herbert found new ways to be in trouble. But it was not very bad this trouble, for these white men Rose never wanted she should be with, never meant very much to Melanctha. It was only that she liked it to be with them, and they knew all about fine horses, and it was just good to Melanctha, now a little, to feel real reckless with them. But mostly it was Rose and other better kind of colored girls and colored men with whom Melanctha Herbert now always wandered. + + It was summer now and the colored people came out into the sunshine, full blown with the flowers. And they shone in the streets and in the fields with their warm joy, and they glistened in their black heat, and they flung themselves free in their wide abandonment of shouting laughter. + + It was very pleasant in some ways, the life Melanctha Herbert now led with Rose and all the others. It was not always that Rose had to scold her. + + There was not anybody of all these colored people, excepting only Rose, who ever meant much to Melanctha Herbert. But they all liked Melanctha, and the men all liked to see her do things, she was so game always to do anything anybody ever could do, and then she was good and sweet to do anything anybody ever wanted from her. + + These were pleasant days then, in the hot southern negro sunshine, with many simple jokes and always wide abandonment of laughter. "Just look at that Melanctha there a running. Don't she just go like a bird when she is flying. Hey Melanctha there, I come and catch you, hey Melanctha, I put salt on your tail to catch you," and then the man would try to catch her, and he would fall full on the earth and roll in an agony of wide-mouthed shouting laughter. And this was the kind of way Rose always liked to have Melanctha do it, to be engaged to him, and to have a good warm nigger time with colored men, not to go about with that kind of white man, never could know how to act right, to any decent kind of girl they could ever get to be with them. + + Rose, always more and more, liked Melanctha Herbert better. Rose often had to scold Melanctha Herbert, but that only made her like Melanctha better. And then Melanctha always listened to her, and always acted every way she could to please her. And then Rose was so sorry for Melanctha, when she was so blue sometimes, and wanted somebody should come and kill her. + + And Melanctha Herbert clung to Rose in the hope that Rose could save her. Melanctha felt the power of Rose's selfish, decent kind of nature. It was so solid, simple, certain to her. Melanctha clung to Rose, she loved to have her scold her, she always wanted to be with her. She always felt a solid safety in her; Rose always was, in her way, very good to let Melanctha be loving to her. Melanctha never had any way she could really be a trouble to her. Melanctha never had any way that she could ever get real power, to come close inside to her. Melanctha was always very humble to her. Melanctha was always ready to do anything Rose wanted from her. Melanctha needed badly to have Rose always willing to let Melanctha cling to her. Rose was a simple, sullen, selfish, black girl, but she had a solid power in her. Rose had strong the sense of decent conduct, she had strong the sense of decent comfort. Rose always knew very well what it was she wanted, and she knew very well what was the right way to do to get everything she wanted, and she never had any kind of trouble to perplex her. And so the subtle intelligent attractive half white girl Melanctha Herbert loved and did for, and demeaned herself in service to this coarse, decent, sullen, ordinary, black, childish Rose and now this unmoral promiscuous shiftless Rose was to be married to a good man of the negroes, while Melanctha Herbert with her white blood and attraction and her desire for a right position was perhaps never to be really regularly married. Sometimes the thought of how all her world was made filled the complex, desiring Melanctha with despair. She wondered often how she could go on living when she was so blue. Sometimes Melanctha thought she would just kill herself, for sometimes she thought this would be really the best thing for her to do. + + Rose was now to be married to a decent good man of the negroes. His name was Sam Johnson, and he worked as a deck-hand on a coasting steamer, and he was very steady, and he got good wages. + + Rose first met Sam Johnson at church, the same place where she had met Melanctha Herbert. Rose liked Sam when she saw him, she knew he was a good man and worked hard and got good wages, and Rose thought it would be very nice and very good now in her position to get really, regularly married. + + Sam Johnson liked Rose very well and he always was ready to do anything she wanted. Sam was a tall, square shouldered, decent, a serious, straightforward, simple, kindly, colored workman. They got on very well together, Sam and Rose, when they were married. Rose was lazy, but not dirty, and Sam was careful but not fussy. Sam was a kindly, simple, earnest, steady workman, and Rose had good common decent sense in her, of how to live regular, and not to have excitements, and to be saving so you could be always sure to have money, so as to have everything you wanted. + + It was not very long that Rose knew Sam Johnson, before they were regularly married. Sometimes Sam went into the country with all the other young church people, and then he would be a great deal with Rose and with her Melanctha Herbert. Sam did not care much about Melanctha Herbert. He liked Rose's ways of doing, always better. Melanctha's mystery had no charm for Sam ever. Sam wanted a nice little house to come to when he was tired from his working, and a little baby all his own he could be good to. Sam Johnson was ready to marry as soon as ever Rose wanted he should do it. And so Sam Johnson and Rose one day had a grand real wedding and were married. Then they furnished completely, a little red brick house and then Sam went back to his work as deck hand on a coasting steamer. + + Rose had often talked to Sam about how good Melanctha was and how much she always suffered. Sam Johnson never really cared about Melanctha Herbert, but he always did almost everything Rose ever wanted, and he was a gentle, kindly creature, and so he was very good to Rose's friend Melanctha. Melanctha Herbert knew very well Sam did not like her, and so she was very quiet, and always let Rose do the talking for her. She only was very good to always help Rose, and to do anything she ever wanted from her, and to be very good and listen and be quiet whenever Sam had anything to say to her. Melanctha liked Sam Johnson, and all her life Melanctha loved and wanted good and kind and considerate people, and always Melanctha loved and wanted people to be gentle to her, and always she wanted to be regular, and to have peace and quiet in her, and always Melanctha could only find new ways to be in trouble. And Melanctha needed badly to have Rose, to believe her, and to let her cling to her. Rose was the only steady thing Melanctha had to cling to and so Melanctha demeaned herself to be like a servant, to wait on, and always to be scolded, by this ordinary, sullen, black, stupid, childish woman. + + Rose was always telling Sam he must be good to poor Melanctha. "You know Sam," Rose said very often to him, "You certainly had ought to be very good to poor Melanctha, she always do have so much trouble with her. You know Sam how I told you she had such a bad time always with that father, and he was awful mean to her always that awful black man, and he never took no kind of care ever to her, and he never helped her when her mother died so hard, that poor Melanctha. Melanctha's ma you know Sam, always was just real religious. One day Melanctha was real little, and she heard her ma say to her pa, it was awful sad to her, Melanctha had not been the one the Lord had took from them stead of the little brother who was dead in the house there from fever. That hurt Melanctha awful when she heard her ma say it. She never could feel it right, and I don't no ways blame Melanctha, Sam, for not feeling better to her ma always after, though Melanctha, just like always she is, always was real good to her ma after, when she was so sick, and died so hard, and nobody never to help Melanctha do it, and she just all alone to do everything without no help come to her no way, and that ugly awful black man she have for a father never all the time come near her. But that's always the way Melanctha is just doing Sam, the way I been telling to you. She always is being just so good to everybody and nobody ever there to thank her for it. I never did see nobody ever Sam, have such bad luck, seems to me always with them, like that poor Melanctha always has it, and she always so good with it, and never no murmur in her, and never no complaining from her, and just never saying nothing with it. You be real good to her Sam, now you hear me, now you and me is married right together. He certainly was an awful black man to her Sam, that father she had, acting always just like a brute to her and she so game and never to tell anybody how it hurt her. And she so sweet and good always to do anything anybody ever can be wanting. I don't see Sam how some men can be to act so awful. I told you Sam, how once Melanctha broke her arm bad and she was so sick and it hurt her awful and he never would let no doctor come near to her and he do some things so awful to her, she don't never want to tell nobody how bad he hurt her. That's just the way Sam with Melanctha always, you never can know how bad it is, it hurts her. You hear me Sam, you always be real good to her now you and me is married right to each other." + + And so Rose and Sam Johnson were regularly married, and Rose sat at home and bragged to all her friends how nice it was to be married really to a husband. + + Rose did not have Melanctha to live with her, now Rose was married. Melanctha was with Rose almost as much as ever but it was a little different now their being together. + + Rose Johnson never asked Melanctha to live with her in the house, now Rose was married. Rose liked to have Melanctha come all the time to help her, Rose liked Melanctha to be almost always with her, but Rose was shrewd in her simple selfish nature, she did not ever think to ask Melanctha to live with her. + + Rose was hard headed, she was decent, and she always knew what it was she needed. Rose needed Melanctha to be with her, she liked to have her help her, the quick, good Melanctha to do for the slow, lazy, selfish, black girl, but Rose could have Melanctha to do for her and she did not need her to live with her. + + Sam never asked Rose why she did not have her. Sam always took what Rose wanted should be done for Melanctha, as the right way he should act toward her. + + It could never come to Melanctha to ask Rose to let her. It never could come to Melanctha to think that Rose would ask her. It would never ever come to Melanctha to want it, if Rose should ask her, but Melanctha would have done it for the safety she always felt when she was near her. Melanctha Herbert wanted badly to be safe now, but this living with her, that, Rose would never give her. Rose had strong the sense for decent comfort, Rose had strong the sense for proper conduct, Rose had strong the sense to get straight always what she wanted, and she always knew what was the best thing she needed, and always Rose got what she wanted. + + And so Rose had Melanctha Herbert always there to help her, and she sat and was lazy and she bragged and she complained a little and she told Melanctha how she ought to do, to get good what she wanted like she Rose always did it, and always Melanctha was doing everything Rose ever needed. "Don't you bother so, doing that Melanctha, I do it or Sam when he comes home to help me. Sure you don't mind lifting it Melanctha? You is very good Melanctha to do it, and when you go out Melanctha, you stop and get some rice to bring me to-morrow when you come in. Sure you won't forget Melanctha. I never see anybody like you Melanctha to always do things so nice for me." And then Melanctha would do some more for Rose, and then very late Melanctha would go home to the colored woman where she lived now. + + And so though Melanctha still was so much with Rose Johnson, she had times when she could not stay there. Melanctha now could not really cling there. Rose had Sam, and Melanctha more and more lost the hold she had had there. + + Melanctha Herbert began to feel she must begin again to look and see if she could find what it was she had always wanted. Now Rose Johnson could no longer help her. + + And so Melanctha Herbert began once more to wander and with men Rose never thought it was right she should be with. + + One day Melanctha had been very busy with the different kinds of ways she wandered. It was a pleasant late afternoon at the end of a long summer. Melanctha was walking along, and she was free and excited. Melanctha had just parted from a white man and she had a bunch of flowers he had left with her. A young buck, a mulatto, passed by and snatched them from her. "It certainly is real sweet in you sister, to be giving me them pretty flowers," he said to her. + + "I don't see no way it can make them sweeter to have with you," said Melanctha. "What one man gives, another man had certainly just as much good right to be taking." "Keep your old flowers then, I certainly don't never want to have them." Melanctha Herbert laughed at him and took them. "No, I didn't nohow think you really did want to have them. Thank you kindly mister, for them. I certainly always do admire to see a man always so kind of real polite to people." The man laughed, "You ain't nobody's fool I can say for you, but you certainly are a damned pretty kind of girl, now I look at you. Want men to be polite to you? All right, I can love you, that's real polite now, want to see me try it." "I certainly ain't got no time this evening just only left to thank you. I certainly got to be real busy now, but I certainly always will admire to see you." The man tried to catch and stop her, Melanctha Herbert laughed and dodged so that he could not touch her. Melanctha went quickly down a side street near her and so the man for that time lost her. + + For some days Melanctha did not see any more of her mulatto. One day Melanctha was with a white man and they saw him. The white man stopped to speak to him. Afterwards Melanctha left the white man and she then soon met him. Melanctha stopped to talk to him. Melanctha Herbert soon began to like him. + + Jem Richards, the new man Melanctha had begun to know now, was a dashing kind of fellow, who had to do with fine horses and with racing. Sometimes Jem Richards would be betting and would be good and lucky, and be making lots of money. Sometimes Jem would be betting badly, and then he would not be having any money. + + Jem Richards was a straight man. Jem Richards always knew that by and by he would win again and pay it, and so Jem mostly did win again, and then he always paid it. + + Jem Richards was a man other men always trusted. Men gave him money when he lost all his, for they all knew Jem Richards would win again, and when he did win they knew, and they were right, that he would pay it. + + Melanctha Herbert all her life had always loved to be with horses. Melanctha liked it that Jem knew all about fine horses. He was a reckless man was Jem Richards. He knew how to win out, and always all her life, Melanctha Herbert loved successful power. + + Melanctha Herbert always liked Jem Richards better. Things soon began to be very strong between them. + + Jem was more game even than Melanctha. Jem always had known what it was to have real wisdom. Jem had always all his life been understanding. + + Jem Richards made Melanctha Herbert come fast with him. He never gave her any time with waiting. Soon Melanctha always had Jem with her. Melanctha did not want anything better. Now in Jem Richards, Melanctha found everything she had ever needed to content her. + + Melanctha was now less and less with Rose Johnson. Rose did not think much of the way Melanctha now was going. Jem Richards was all right, only Melanctha never had no sense of the right kind of way she should be doing. Rose often was telling Sam now, she did not like the fast way Melanctha was going. Rose told it to Sam, and to all the girls and men, when she saw them. But Rose was nothing just then to Melanctha. Melanctha Herbert now only needed Jem Richards to be with her. + + And things were always getting stronger between Jem Richards and Melanctha Herbert. Jem Richards began to talk now as if he wanted to get married to her. Jem was deep in his love now for her. And as for Melanctha, Jem was all the world now to her. And so Jem gave her a ring, like white folks, to show he was engaged to her, and would by and by be married to her. And Melanctha was filled full with joy to have Jem so good to her. + + Melanctha always loved to go with Jem to the races. Jem had been lucky lately with his betting, and he had a swell turn-out to drive in, and Melanctha looked very handsome there beside him. + + Melanctha was very proud to have Jem Richards want her. Melanctha loved it the way Jem knew how to do it. Melanctha loved Jem and loved that he should want her. She loved it too, that he wanted to be married to her. Jem Richards was a straight decent man, whom other men always looked up to and trusted. Melanctha needed badly a man to content her. + + Melanctha's joy made her foolish. Melanctha told everybody about how Jem Richards, that swell man who owned all those fine horses and was so game, nothing ever scared him, was engaged to be married to her, and that was the ring he gave her. + + Melanctha let out her joy very often to Rose Johnson. Melanctha had begun again now to go there. + + Melanctha's love for Jem made her foolish. Melanctha had to have some one always now to talk to and so she went often to Rose Johnson. + + Melanctha put all herself into Jem Richards. She was mad and foolish in the joy she had there. + + Rose never liked the way Melanctha did it. "No Sam I don't say never Melanctha ain't engaged to Jem Richards the way she always says it, and Jem he is all right for that kind of man he is, though he do think himself so smart and like he owns the earth and everything he can get with it, and he sure gave Melanctha a ring like he really meant he should be married right soon with it, only Sam, I don't ever like it the way Melanctha is going. When she is engaged to him Sam, she ain't not right to take on so excited. That ain't no decent kind of a way a girl ever should be acting. There ain't no kind of a man going stand that, not like I knows men Sam, and I sure does know them. I knows them white and I knows them colored, for I was raised by white folks, and they don't none of them like a girl to act so. That's all right to be so when you is just only loving, but it ain't no ways right to be acting so when you is engaged to him, and when he says, all right he get really regularly married to you. You see Sam I am right like I am always and I knows it. Jem Richards, he ain't going to the last to get real married, not if I knows it right, the way Melanctha now is acting to him. Rings or anything ain't nothing to them, and they don't never do no good for them, when a girl acts foolish like Melanctha always now is acting. I certainly will be right sorry Sam, if Melanctha has real bad trouble come now to her, but I certainly don't no ways like it Sam the kind of way Melanctha is acting to him. I don't never say nothing to her Sam. I just listens to what she is saying always, and I thinks it out like I am telling to you Sam but I don't never say nothing no more now to Melanctha. Melanctha didn't say nothing to me about that Jem Richards till she was all like finished with him, and I never did like it Sam, much, the way she was acting, not coming here never when she first ran with those men and met him. And I didn't never say nothing to her, Sam, about it, and it ain't nothing ever to me, only I don't never no more want to say nothing to her, so I just listens to what she got to tell like she wants it. No Sam, I don't never want to say nothing to her. Melanctha just got to go her own way, not as I want to see her have bad trouble ever come hard to her, only it ain't in me never Sam, after Melanctha did so, ever to say nothing more to her how she should be acting. You just see Sam like I tell you, what way Jem Richards will act to her, you see Sam I just am right like I always am when I knows it." + + Melanctha Herbert never thought she could ever again be in trouble. Melanctha's joy had made her foolish. + + And now Jem Richards had some bad trouble with his betting. Melanctha sometimes felt now when she was with him that there was something wrong inside him. Melanctha knew he had had trouble with his betting but Melanctha never felt that that could make any difference to them. + + Melanctha once had told Jem, sure he knew she always would love to be with him, if he was in jail or only just a beggar. Now Melanctha said to him, "Sure you know Jem that it don't never make any kind of difference you're having any kind of trouble, you just try me Jem and be game, don't look so worried to me. Jem sure I know you love me like I love you always, and its all I ever could be wanting Jem to me, just your wanting me always to be with you. I get married Jem to you soon ever as you can want me, if you once say it Jem to me. It ain't nothing to me ever, anything like having any money Jem, why you look so worried to me." + + Melanctha Herbert's love had surely made her mad and foolish. She thrust it always deep into Jem Richards and now that he had trouble with his betting, Jem had no way that he ever wanted to be made to feel it. Jem Richards never could want to marry any girl while he had trouble. That was no way a man like him should do it. Melanctha's love had made her mad and foolish, she should be silent now and let him do it. Jem Richards was not a kind of man to want a woman to be strong to him, when he was in trouble with his betting. That was not the kind of a time when a man like him needed to have it. + + Melanctha needed so badly to have it, this love which she had always wanted, she did not know what she should do to save it. Melanctha saw now, Jem Richards always had something wrong inside him. Melanctha soon dared not ask him. Jem was busy now, he had to sell things and see men to raise money. Jem could not meet Melanctha now so often. + + It was lucky for Melanctha Herbert that Rose Johnson was coming now to have her baby. It had always been understood between them, Rose should come and stay then in the house where Melanctha lived with an old colored woman, so that Rose could have the Doctor from the hospital near by to help her, and Melanctha there to take care of her the way Melanctha always used to do it. + + Melanctha was very good now to Rose Johnson. Melanctha did everything that any woman could, she tended Rose, and she was patient, submissive, soothing and untiring, while the sullen, childish, cowardly, black Rosie grumbled, and fussed, and howled, and made herself to be an abomination and like a simple beast. + + All this time Melanctha was always being every now and then with Jem Richards. Melanctha was beginning to be stronger with Jem Richards. Melanctha was never so strong and sweet and in her nature as when she was deep in trouble, when she was fighting so with all she had, she could not do any foolish thing with her nature. + + Always now Melanctha Herbert came back again to be nearer to Rose Johnson. Always now Melanctha would tell all about her troubles to Rose Johnson. Rose had begun now a little again to advise her. + + Melanctha always told Rose now about the talks she had with Jem Richards, talks where they neither of them liked very well what the other one was saying. Melanctha did not know what it was Jem Richards wanted. All Melanctha knew was, he did not like it when she wanted to be good friends and get really married, and then when Melanctha would say, "all right, I never wear your ring no more Jem, we ain't not any more to meet ever like we ever going to get really regular married," then Jem did not like it either. What was it Jem Richards really wanted? + + Melanctha stopped wearing Jem's ring on her finger. Poor Melanctha, she wore it on a string she tied around her neck so that she could always feel it, but Melanctha was strong now with Jem Richards, and he never saw it. And sometimes Jem seemed to be awful sorry for it, and sometimes he seemed kind of glad of it. Melanctha never could make out really what it was Jem Richards wanted. + + There was no other woman yet to Jem, that Melanctha knew, and so she always trusted that Jem would come back to her, deep in his love, the way once he had had it and had made all the world like she once had never believed anybody could really make it. But Jem Richards was more game than Melanctha Herbert. He knew how to fight to win out, better. Melanctha really had already lost it, in not keeping quiet and waiting for Jem to do it. + + Jem Richards was not yet having better luck in his betting. He never before had had such a long time without some good coming to him in his betting. Sometimes Jem talked as if he wanted to go off on a trip somewhere and try some other place for luck with his betting. Jem Richards never talked as if he wanted to take Melanctha with him. + + And so Melanctha sometimes was really trusting, and sometimes she was all sick inside her with her doubting. What was it Jem really wanted to do with her? He did not have any other woman, in that Melanctha could be really trusting, and when she said no to him, no she never would come near him, now he did not want to have her, then Jem would change and swear, yes sure he did want her, now and always right here near him, but he never now any more said he wanted to be married soon to her. But then Jem Richards never would marry a girl, he said that very often, when he was in this kind of trouble, and now he did not see any way he could get out of his trouble. But Melanctha ought to wear his ring, sure she knew he never had loved any kind of woman like he loved her. Melanctha would wear the ring a little while, and then they would have some more trouble, and then she would say to him, no she certainly never would any more wear anything he gave her, and then she would wear it on the string so nobody could see it but she could always feel it on her. + + Poor Melanctha, surely her love had made her mad and foolish. + + And now Melanctha needed always more and more to be with Rose Johnson, and Rose had commenced again to advise her, but Rose could not help her. There was no way now that anybody could advise her. The time when Melanctha could have changed it with Jem Richards was now all past for her. Rose knew it, and Melanctha too, she knew it, and it almost killed her to let herself believe it. + + The only comfort Melanctha ever had now was waiting on Rose till she was so tired she could hardly stand it. Always Melanctha did everything Rose ever wanted. Sam Johnson began now to be very gentle and a little tender to Melanctha. She was so good to Rose and Sam was so glad to have her there to help Rose and to do things and to be a comfort to her. + + Rose had a hard time to bring her baby to its birth and Melanctha did everything that any woman could. + + The baby though it was healthy after it was born did not live long. Rose Johnson was careless and negligent and selfish and when Melanctha had to leave for a few days the baby died. Rose Johnson had liked her baby well enough and perhaps she just forgot it for a while, anyway the child was dead and Rose and Sam were very sorry, but then these things came so often in the negro world in Bridgepoint that they neither of them thought about it very long. When Rose had become strong again she went back to her house with Sam. And Sam Johnson was always now very gentle and kind and good to Melanctha who had been so good to Rose in her bad trouble. + + Melanctha Herbert's troubles with Jem Richards were never getting any better. Jem always now had less and less time to be with her. When Jem was with Melanctha now he was good enough to her. Jem Richards was worried with his betting. Never since Jem had first begun to make a living had he ever had so much trouble for such a long time together with his betting. Jem Richards was good enough now to Melanctha but he had not much strength to give her. Melanctha could never any more now make him quarrel with her. Melanctha never now could complain of his treatment of her, for surely, he said it always by his actions to her, surely she must know how a man was when he had trouble on his mind with trying to make things go a little better. + + Sometimes Jem and Melanctha had long talks when they neither of them liked very well what the other one was saying, but mostly now Melanctha could not make Jem Richards quarrel with her, and more and more, Melanctha could not find any way to make it right to blame him for the trouble she now always had inside her. Jem was good to her, and she knew, for he told her, that he had trouble all the time now with his betting. Melanctha knew very well that for her it was all wrong inside Jem Richards, but Melanctha had now no way that she could really reach him. + + Things between Melanctha and Jem Richards were now never getting any better. Melanctha now more and more needed to be with Rose Johnson. Rose still liked to have Melanctha come to her house and do things for her, and Rose liked to grumble to her and to scold her and to tell Melanctha what was the way Melanctha always should be doing so she could make things come out better and not always be so much in trouble. Sam Johnson in these days was always very good and gentle to Melanctha. Sam was now beginning to be very sorry for her. + + Jem Richards never made things any better for Melanctha. Often Jem would talk so as to make Melanctha almost certain that he never any more wanted to have her. Then Melanctha would get very blue, and she would say to Rose, sure she would kill herself, for that certainly now was the best way she could do. + + Rose Johnson never saw it the least bit that way. "I don't see Melanctha why you should talk like you would kill yourself just because you're blue. I'd never kill myself Melanctha cause I was blue. I'd maybe kill somebody else but I'd never kill myself. If I ever killed myself, Melanctha it'd be by accident and if I ever killed myself by accident, Melanctha, I'd be awful sorry. And that certainly is the way you should feel it Melanctha, now you hear me, not just talking foolish like you always do. It certainly is only your way just always being foolish makes you all that trouble to come to you always now, Melanctha, and I certainly right well knows that. You certainly never can learn no way Melanctha ever with all I certainly been telling to you, ever since I know you good, that it ain't never no way like you do always is the right way you be acting ever and talking, the way I certainly always have seen you do so Melanctha always. I certainly am right Melanctha about them ways you have to do it, and I knows it; but you certainly never can noways learn to act right Melanctha, I certainly do know that, I certainly do my best Melanctha to help you with it only you certainly never do act right Melanctha, not to nobody ever, I can see it. You never act right by me Melanctha no more than by everybody. I never say nothing to you Melanctha when you do so, for I certainly never do like it when I just got to say it to you, but you just certainly done with that Jem Richards you always say wanted real bad to be married to you, just like I always said to Sam you certainly was going to do it. And I certainly am real kind of sorry like for you Melanctha, but you certainly had ought to have come to see me to talk to you, when you first was engaged to him so I could show you, and now you got all this trouble come to you Melanctha like I certainly know you always catch it. It certainly ain't never Melanctha I ain't real sorry to see trouble come so hard to you, but I certainly can see Melanctha it all is always just the way you always be having it in you not never to do right. And now you always talk like you just kill yourself because you are so blue, that certainly never is Melanctha, no kind of a way for any decent kind of a girl to do." + + Rose had begun to be strong now to scold Melanctha and she was impatient very often with her, but Rose could now never any more be a help to her. Melanctha Herbert never could know now what it was right she should do. Melanctha always wanted to have Jem Richards with her and now he never seemed to want her, and what could Melanctha do. Surely she was right now when she said she would just kill herself, for that was the only way now she could do. + + Sam Johnson always, more and more, was good and gentle to Melanctha. Poor Melanctha, she was so good and sweet to do anything anybody ever wanted, and Melanctha always liked it if she could have peace and quiet, and always she could only find new ways to be in trouble. Sam often said this now to Rose about Melanctha. + + "I certainly don't never want Sam to say bad things about Melanctha, for she certainly always do have most awful kind of trouble come hard to her, but I never can say I like it real right Sam the way Melanctha always has to do it. Its now just the same with her like it is always she has got to do it, now the way she is with that Jem Richards. He certainly now don't never want to have her but Melanctha she ain't got no right kind of spirit. No Sam I don't never like the way any more Melanctha is acting to him, and then Sam, she ain't never real right honest, the way she always should do it. She certainly just don't kind of never Sam tell right what way she is doing with it. I don't never like to say nothing Sam no more to her about the way she always has to be acting. She always say, yes all right Rose, I do the way you say it, and then Sam she don't never noways do it. She certainly is right sweet and good, Sam, is Melanctha, nobody ever can hear me say she ain't always ready to do things for everybody anyway she ever can see to do it, only Sam some ways she never does act real right ever, and some ways, Sam, she ain't ever real honest with it. And Sam sometimes I hear awful kind of things she been doing, some girls know about her how she does it, and sometimes they tell me what kind of ways she has to do it, and Sam it certainly do seem to me like more and more I certainly am awful afraid Melanctha never will come to any good. And then Sam, sometimes, you hear it, she always talk like she kill herself all the time she is so blue, and Sam that certainly never is no kind of way any decent girl ever had ought to do. You see Sam, how I am right like I always is when I knows it. You just be careful, Sam, now you hear me, you be careful Sam sure, I tell you, Melanctha more and more I see her I certainly do feel Melanctha no way is really honest. You be careful, Sam now, like I tell you, for I knows it, now you hear to me, Sam, what I tell you, for I certainly always is right, Sam, when I knows it." + + At first Sam tried a little to defend Melanctha, and Sam always was good and gentle to her, and Sam liked the ways Melanctha had to be quiet to him, and to always listen as if she was learning, when she was there and heard him talking, and then Sam liked the sweet way she always did everything so nicely for him; but Sam never liked to fight with anybody ever, and surely Rose knew best about Melanctha and anyway Sam never did really care much about Melanctha. Her mystery never had had any interest for him. Sam liked it that she was sweet to him and that she always did everything Rose ever wanted that she should be doing. But Melanctha never would be important to him. All Sam ever wanted was to have a little house and to live regular and to work hard and to come home to his dinner, when he was tired with his working and by and by he wanted to have some children all his own to be good to, and so Sam was real sorry for Melanctha, she was so good and so sweet always to them, and Jem Richards was a bad man to behave so to her, but that was always the way a girl got it when she liked that kind of fast fellow. Anyhow Melanctha was Rose's friend, and Sam never cared to have anything to do with the kind of trouble always came to women, when they wanted to have men, who never could know how to behave good and steady to their women. + + And so Sam never said much to Rose about Melanctha. Sam was always very gentle to her, but now he began less and less to see her. Soon Melanctha never came any more to the house to see Rose and Sam never asked Rose anything about her. + + Melanctha Herbert was beginning now to come less and less to the house to be with Rose Johnson. This was because Rose seemed always less and less now to want her, and Rose would not let Melanctha now do things for her. Melanctha was always humble to her and Melanctha always wanted in every way she could to do things for her. Rose said no, she guessed she do that herself like she likes to have it better. Melanctha is real good to stay so long to help her, but Rose guessed perhaps Melanctha better go home now, Rose don't need nobody to help her now, she is feeling real strong, not like just after she had all that trouble with the baby, and then Sam, when he comes home for his dinner he likes it when Rose is all alone there just to give him his dinner. Sam always is so tired now, like he always is in the summer, so many people always on the steamer, and they make so much work so Sam is real tired now, and he likes just to eat his dinner and never have people in the house to be a trouble to him. + + Each day Rose treated Melanctha more and more as if she never wanted Melanctha any more to come there to the house to see her. Melanctha dared not ask Rose why she acted in this way to her. Melanctha badly needed to have Rose always there to save her. Melanctha wanted badly to cling to her and Rose had always been so solid for her. Melanctha did not dare to ask Rose if she now no longer wanted her to come and see her. + + Melanctha now never any more had Sam to be gentle to her. Rose always sent Melanctha away from her before it was time for Sam to come home to her. One day Melanctha had stayed a little longer, for Rose that day had been good to let Melanctha begin to do things for her. Melanctha then left her and Melanctha met Sam Johnson who stopped a minute to speak kindly to her. + + The next day Rose Johnson would not let Melanctha come in to her. Rose stood on the steps, and there she told Melanctha what she thought now of her. + + "I guess Melanctha it certainly ain't no ways right for you to come here no more just to see me. I certainly don't Melanctha no ways like to be a trouble to you. I certainly think Melanctha I get along better now when I don't have nobody like you are, always here to help me, and Sam he do so good now with his working, he pay a little girl something to come every day to help me. I certainly do think Melanctha I don't never want you no more to come here just to see me." "Why Rose, what I ever done to you, I certainly don't think you is right Rose to be so bad now to me." "I certainly don't no ways Melanctha Herbert think you got any right ever to be complaining the way I been acting to you. I certainly never do think Melanctha Herbert, you hear me, nobody ever been more patient to you than I always been to like you, only Melanctha, I hear more things now so awful bad about you, everybody always is telling to me what kind of a way you always have been doing so much, and me always so good to you, and you never no ways, knowing how to be honest to me. No Melanctha it ain't ever in me, not to want you to have good luck come to you, and I like it real well Melanctha when you some time learn how to act the way it is decent and right for a girl to be doing, but I don't no ways ever like it the kind of things everybody tell me now about you. No Melanctha, I can't never any more trust you. I certainly am real sorry to have never any more to see you, but there ain't no other way, I ever can be acting to you. That's all I ever got any more to say to you now Melanctha." "But Rose, deed; I certainly don't know, no more than the dead, nothing I ever done to make you act so to me. Anybody say anything bad about me Rose, to you, they just a pack of liars to you, they certainly is Rose, I tell you true. I certainly never done nothing I ever been ashamed to tell you. Why you act so bad to me Rose. Sam he certainly don't think ever like you do, and Rose I always do everything I can, you ever want me to do for you." "It ain't never no use standing there talking, Melanctha Herbert. I just can tell it to you, and Sam, he don't know nothing about women ever the way they can be acting. I certainly am very sorry Melanctha, to have to act so now to you, but I certainly can't do no other way with you, when you do things always so bad, and everybody is talking so about you. It ain't no use to you to stand there and say it different to me Melanctha. I certainly am always right Melanctha Herbert, the way I certainly always have been when I knows it, to you. No Melanctha, it just is, you never can have no kind of a way to act right, the way a decent girl has to do, and I done my best always to be telling it to you Melanctha Herbert, but it don't never do no good to tell nobody how to act right; they certainly never can learn when they ain't got no sense right to know it, and you never have no sense right Melanctha to be honest, and I ain't never wishing no harm to you ever Melanctha Herbert, only I don't never want any more to see you come here. I just say to you now, like I always been saying to you, you don't know never the right way, any kind of decent girl has to be acting, and so Melanctha Herbert, me and Sam, we don't never any more want you to be setting your foot in my house here Melanctha Herbert, I just tell you. And so you just go along now, Melanctha Herbert, you hear me, and I don't never wish no harm to come to you." + + Rose Johnson went into her house and closed the door behind her. Melanctha stood like one dazed, she did not know how to bear this blow that almost killed her. Slowly then Melanctha went away without even turning to look behind her. + + Melanctha Herbert was all sore and bruised inside her. Melanctha had needed Rose always to believe her, Melanctha needed Rose always to let her cling to her, Melanctha wanted badly to have somebody who could make her always feel a little safe inside her, and now Rose had sent her from her. Melanctha wanted Rose more than she had ever wanted all the others. Rose always was so simple, solid, decent, for her. And now Rose had cast her from her. Melanctha was lost, and all the world went whirling in a mad weary dance around her. + + Melanctha Herbert never had any strength alone ever to feel safe inside her. And now Rose Johnson had cast her from her, and Melanctha could never any more be near her. Melanctha Herbert knew now, way inside her, that she was lost, and nothing any more could ever help her. + + Melanctha went that night to meet Jem Richards who had promised to be at the old place to meet her. Jem Richards was absent in his manner to her. By and by he began to talk to her, about the trip he was going to take soon, to see if he could get some luck back in his betting. Melanctha trembled, was Jem too now going to leave her. Jem Richards talked some more then to her, about the bad luck he always had now, and how he needed to go away to see if he could make it come out any better. + + Then Jem stopped, and then he looked straight at Melanctha. + + "Tell me Melanctha right and true, you don't care really nothing more about me now Melanctha," he said to her. + + "Why you ask me that, Jem Richards," said Melanctha. + + "Why I ask you that Melanctha, God Almighty, because I just don't give a damn now for you any more Melanctha. That the reason I was asking." + + Melanctha never could have for this an answer. Jem Richards waited and then he went away and left her. + + Melanctha Herbert never again saw Jem Richards. Melanctha never again saw Rose Johnson, and it was hard to Melanctha never any more to see her. Rose Johnson had worked in to be the deepest of all Melanctha's emotions. + + "No, I don't never see Melanctha Herbert no more now," Rose would say to anybody who asked her about Melanctha. "No, Melanctha she never comes here no more now, after we had all that trouble with her acting so bad with them kind of men she liked so much to be with. She don't never come to no good Melanctha Herbert don't, and me and Sam don't want no more to see her. She didn't do right ever the way I told her. Melanctha just wouldn't, and I always said it to her, if she don't be more kind of careful, the way she always had to be acting, I never did want no more she should come here in my house no more to see me. I ain't no ways ever against any girl having any kind of a way, to have a good time like she wants it, but not that kind of a way Melanctha always had to do it. I expect some day Melanctha kill herself, when she act so bad like she do always, and then she got so awful blue. Melanctha always says that's the only way she ever can think it a easy way for her to do. No, I always am real sorry for Melanctha, she never was no just common kind of nigger, but she don't never know not with all the time I always was telling it to her, no she never no way could learn, what was the right way she should do. I certainly don't never want no kind of harm to come bad to Melanctha, but I certainly do think she will most kill herself some time, the way she always say it would be easy way for her to do. I never see nobody ever could be so awful blue." + + But Melanctha Herbert never really killed herself because she was so blue, though often she thought this would be really the best way for her to do. Melanctha never killed herself, she only got a bad fever and went into the hospital where they took good care of her and cured her. + + When Melanctha was well again, she took a place and began to work and to live regular. Then Melanctha got very sick again; she began to cough and sweat and be so weak she could not stand to do her work. + + Melanctha went back to the hospital, and there the Doctor told her she had the consumption, and before long she would surely die. They sent her where she would be taken care of, a home for poor consumptives, and there Melanctha stayed until she died. + + FINIS + + + + THE GENTLE LENA + + Lena was patient, gentle, sweet and german. She had been a servant for four years and had liked it very well. + + Lena had been brought from Germany to Bridgepoint by a cousin and had been in the same place there for four years. + + This place Lena had found very good. There was a pleasant, unexacting mistress and her children, and they all liked Lena very well. + + There was a cook there who scolded Lena a great deal but Lena's german patience held no suffering and the good incessant woman really only scolded so for Lena's good. + + Lena's german voice when she knocked and called the family in the morning was as awakening, as soothing, and as appealing, as a delicate soft breeze in midday, summer. She stood in the hallway every morning a long time in her unexpectant and unsuffering german patience calling to the young ones to get up. She would call and wait a long time and then call again, always even, gentle, patient, while the young ones fell back often into that precious, tense, last bit of sleeping that gives a strength of joyous vigor in the young, over them that have come to the readiness of middle age, in their awakening. + + Lena had good hard work all morning, and on the pleasant, sunny afternoons she was sent out into the park to sit and watch the little two year old girl baby of the family. + + The other girls, all them that make the pleasant, lazy crowd, that watch the children in the sunny afternoons out in the park, all liked the simple, gentle, german Lena very well. They all, too, liked very well to tease her, for it was so easy to make her mixed and troubled, and all helpless, for she could never learn to know just what the other quicker girls meant by the queer things they said. + + The two or three of these girls, the ones that Lena always sat with, always worked together to confuse her. Still it was pleasant, all this life for Lena. + + The little girl fell down sometimes and cried, and then Lena had to soothe her. When the little girl would drop her hat, Lena had to pick it up and hold it. When the little girl was bad and threw away her playthings, Lena told her she could not have them and took them from her to hold until the little girl should need them. + + It was all a peaceful life for Lena, almost as peaceful as a pleasant leisure. The other girls, of course, did tease her, but then that only made a gentle stir within her. + + Lena was a brown and pleasant creature, brown as blonde races often have them brown, brown, not with the yellow or the red or the chocolate brown of sun burned countries, but brown with the clear color laid flat on the light toned skin beneath, the plain, spare brown that makes it right to have been made with hazel eyes, and not too abundant straight, brown hair, hair that only later deepens itself into brown from the straw yellow of a german childhood. + + Lena had the flat chest, straight back and forward falling shoulders of the patient and enduring working woman, though her body was now still in its milder girlhood and work had not yet made these lines too clear. + + The rarer feeling that there was with Lena, showed in all the even quiet of her body movements, but in all it was the strongest in the patient, old-world ignorance, and earth made pureness of her brown, flat, soft featured face. Lena had eyebrows that were a wondrous thickness. They were black, and spread, and very cool, with their dark color and their beauty, and beneath them were her hazel eyes, simple and human, with the earth patience of the working, gentle, german woman. + + Yes it was all a peaceful life for Lena. The other girls, of course, did tease her, but then that only made a gentle stir within her. + + "What you got on your finger Lena," Mary, one of the girls she always sat with, one day asked her. Mary was good natured, quick, intelligent and Irish. + + Lena had just picked up the fancy paper made accordion that the little girl had dropped beside her, and was making it squeak sadly as she pulled it with her brown, strong, awkward finger. + + "Why, what is it, Mary, paint?" said Lena, putting her finger to her mouth to taste the dirt spot. + + "That's awful poison Lena, don't you know?" said Mary, "that green paint that you just tasted." + + Lena had sucked a good deal of the green paint from her finger. She stopped and looked hard at the finger. She did not know just how much Mary meant by what she said. + + "Ain't it poison, Nellie, that green paint, that Lena sucked just now," said Mary. "Sure it is Lena, its real poison, I ain't foolin' this time anyhow." + + Lena was a little troubled. She looked hard at her finger where the paint was, and she wondered if she had really sucked it. + + It was still a little wet on the edges and she rubbed it off a long time on the inside of her dress, and in between she wondered and looked at the finger and thought, was it really poison that she had just tasted. + + "Ain't it too bad, Nellie, Lena should have sucked that," Mary said. + + Nellie smiled and did not answer. Nellie was dark and thin, and looked Italian. She had a big mass of black hair that she wore high up on her head, and that made her face look very fine. + + Nellie always smiled and did not say much, and then she would look at Lena to perplex her. + + And so they all three sat with their little charges in the pleasant sunshine a long time. And Lena would often look at her finger and wonder if it was really poison that she had just tasted and then she would rub her finger on her dress a little harder. + + Mary laughed at her and teased her and Nellie smiled a little and looked queerly at her. + + Then it came time, for it was growing cooler, for them to drag together the little ones, who had begun to wander, and to take each one back to its own mother. And Lena never knew for certain whether it was really poison, that green stuff that she had tasted. + + During these four years of service, Lena always spent her Sundays out at the house of her aunt, who had brought her four years before to Bridgepoint. + + This aunt, who had brought Lena, four years before, to Bridgepoint, was a hard, ambitious, well meaning, german woman. Her husband was a grocer in the town, and they were very well to do. Mrs. Haydon, Lena's aunt, had two daughters who were just beginning as young ladies, and she had a little boy who was not honest and who was very hard to manage. + + Mrs. Haydon was a short, stout, hard built, german woman. She always hit the ground very firmly and compactly as she walked. Mrs. Haydon was all a compact and well hardened mass, even to her face, reddish and darkened from its early blonde, with its hearty, shiny cheeks, and doubled chin well covered over with the up roll from her short, square neck. + + The two daughters, who were fourteen and fifteen, looked like unkneaded, unformed mounds of flesh beside her. + + The elder girl, Mathilda, was blonde, and slow, and simple, and quite fat. The younger, Bertha, who was almost as tall as her sister, was dark, and quicker, and she was heavy, too, but not really fat. + + These two girls the mother had brought up very firmly. They were well taught for their position. They were always both well dressed, in the same kinds of hats and dresses, as is becoming in two german sisters. The mother liked to have them dressed in red. Their best clothes were red dresses, made of good heavy cloth, and strongly trimmed with braid of a glistening black. They had stiff, red felt hats, trimmed with black velvet ribbon, and a bird. The mother dressed matronly, in a bonnet and in black, always sat between her two big daughters, firm, directing, and repressed. + + The only weak spot in this good german woman's conduct was the way she spoiled her boy, who was not honest and who was very hard to manage. + + The father of this family was a decent, quiet, heavy, and uninterfering german man. He tried to cure the boy of his bad ways, and make him honest, but the mother could not make herself let the father manage, and so the boy was brought up very badly. + + Mrs. Haydon's girls were now only just beginning as young ladies, and so to get her niece, Lena, married, was just then the most important thing that Mrs. Haydon had to do. + + Mrs. Haydon had four years before gone to Germany to see her parents, and had taken the girls with her. This visit had been for Mrs. Haydon most successful, though her children had not liked it very well. + + Mrs. Haydon was a good and generous woman, and she patronized her parents grandly, and all the cousins who came from all about to see her. Mrs. Haydon's people were of the middling class of farmers. They were not peasants, and they lived in a town of some pretension, but it all seemed very poor and smelly to Mrs. Haydon's american born daughters. + + Mrs. Haydon liked it all. It was familiar, and then here she was so wealthy and important. She listened and decided, and advised all of her relations how to do things better. She arranged their present and their future for them, and showed them how in the past they had been wrong in all their methods. + + Mrs. Haydon's only trouble was with her two daughters, whom she could not make behave well to her parents. The two girls were very nasty to all their numerous relations. Their mother could hardly make them kiss their grandparents, and every day the girls would get a scolding. But then Mrs. Haydon was so very busy that she did not have time to really manage her stubborn daughters. + + These hard working, earth-rough german cousins were to these american born children, ugly and dirty, and as far below them as were italian or negro workmen, and they could not see how their mother could ever bear to touch them, and then all the women dressed so funny, and were worked all rough and different. + + The two girls stuck up their noses at them all, and always talked in English to each other about how they hated all these people and how they wished their mother would not do so. The girls could talk some German, but they never chose to use it. + + It was her eldest brother's family that most interested Mrs. Haydon. Here there were eight children, and out of the eight, five of them were girls. + + Mrs. Haydon thought it would be a fine thing to take one of these girls back with her to Bridgepoint and get her well started. Everybody liked that she should do so and they were all willing that it should be Lena. + + Lena was the second girl in her large family. She was at this time just seventeen years old. Lena was not an important daughter in the family. She was always sort of dreamy and not there. She worked hard and went very regularly at it, but even good work never seemed to bring her near. + + Lena's age just suited Mrs. Haydon's purpose. Lena could first go out to service, and learn how to do things, and then, when she was a little older, Mrs. Haydon could get her a good husband. And then Lena was so still and docile, she would never want to do things her own way. And then, too, Mrs. Haydon, with all her hardness had wisdom, and she could feel the rarer strain there was in Lena. + + Lena was willing to go with Mrs. Haydon. Lena did not like her german life very well. It was not the hard work but the roughness that disturbed her. The people were not gentle, and the men when they were glad were very boisterous, and would lay hold of her and roughly tease her. They were good people enough around her, but it was all harsh and dreary for her. + + Lena did not really know that she did not like it. She did not know that she was always dreamy and not there. She did not think whether it would be different for her away off there in Bridgepoint. Mrs. Haydon took her and got her different kinds of dresses, and then took her with them to the steamer. Lena did not really know what it was that had happened to her. + + Mrs. Haydon, and her daughters, and Lena traveled second class on the steamer. Mrs. Haydon's daughters hated that their mother should take Lena. They hated to have a cousin, who was to them, little better than a nigger, and then everybody on the steamer there would see her. Mrs. Haydon's daughters said things like this to their mother, but she never stopped to hear them, and the girls did not dare to make their meaning very clear. And so they could only go on hating Lena hard, together. They could not stop her from going back with them to Bridgepoint. + + Lena was very sick on the voyage. She thought, surely before it was over that she would die. She was so sick she could not even wish that she had not started. She could not eat, she could not moan, she was just blank and scared, and sure that every minute she would die. She could not hold herself in, nor help herself in her trouble. She just staid where she had been put, pale, and scared, and weak, and sick, and sure that she was going to die. + + Mathilda and Bertha Haydon had no trouble from having Lena for a cousin on the voyage, until the last day that they were on the ship, and by that time they had made their friends and could explain. + + Mrs. Haydon went down every day to Lena, gave her things to make her better, held her head when it was needful, and generally was good and did her duty by her. + + Poor Lena had no power to be strong in such trouble. She did not know how to yield to her sickness nor endure. She lost all her little sense of being in her suffering. She was so scared, and then at her best, Lena, who was patient, sweet and quiet, had not self-control, nor any active courage. + + Poor Lena was so scared and weak, and every minute she was sure that she would die. + + After Lena was on land again a little while, she forgot all her bad suffering. Mrs. Haydon got her the good place, with the pleasant unexacting mistress, and her children, and Lena began to learn some English and soon was very happy and content. + + All her Sundays out Lena spent at Mrs. Haydon's house. Lena would have liked much better to spend her Sundays with the girls she always sat with, and who often asked her, and who teased her and made a gentle stir within her, but it never came to Lena's unexpectant and unsuffering german nature to do something different from what was expected of her, just because she would like it that way better. Mrs. Haydon had said that Lena was to come to her house every other Sunday, and so Lena always went there. + + Mrs. Haydon was the only one of her family who took any interest in Lena. Mr. Haydon did not think much of her. She was his wife's cousin and he was good to her, but she was for him stupid, and a little simple, and very dull, and sure some day to need help and to be in trouble. All young poor relations, who were brought from Germany to Bridgepoint were sure, before long, to need help and to be in trouble. + + The little Haydon boy was always very nasty to her. He was a hard child for any one to manage, and his mother spoiled him very badly. Mrs. Haydon's daughters as they grew older did not learn to like Lena any better. Lena never knew that she did not like them either. She did not know that she was only happy with the other quicker girls, she always sat with in the park, and who laughed at her and always teased her. + + Mathilda Haydon, the simple, fat, blonde, older daughter felt very badly that she had to say that this was her cousin Lena, this Lena who was little better for her than a nigger. Mathilda was an overgrown, slow, flabby, blonde, stupid, fat girl, just beginning as a woman; thick in her speech and dull and simple in her mind, and very jealous of all her family and of other girls, and proud that she could have good dresses and new hats and learn music, and hating very badly to have a cousin who was a common servant. And then Mathilda remembered very strongly that dirty nasty place that Lena came from and that Mathilda had so turned up her nose at, and where she had been made so angry because her mother scolded her and liked all those rough cow-smelly people. + + Then, too, Mathilda would get very mad when her mother had Lena at their parties, and when she talked about how good Lena was, to certain german mothers in whose sons, perhaps, Mrs. Haydon might find Lena a good husband. All this would make the dull, blonde, fat Mathilda very angry: Sometimes she would get so angry that she would, in her thick, slow way, and with jealous anger blazing in her light blue eyes, tell her mother that she did not see how she could like that nasty Lena; and then her mother would scold Mathilda, and tell her that she knew her cousin Lena was poor and Mathilda must be good to poor people. + + Mathilda Haydon did not like relations to be poor. She told all her girl friends what she thought of Lena, and so the girls would never talk to Lena at Mrs. Haydon's parties. But Lena in her unsuffering and unexpectant patience never really knew that she was slighted. When Mathilda was with her girls in the street or in the park and would see Lena, she always turned up her nose and barely nodded to her, and then she would tell her friends how funny her mother was to take care of people like that Lena, and how, back in Germany, all Lena's people lived just like pigs. + + The younger daughter, the dark, large, but not fat, Bertha Haydon, who was very quick in her mind, and in her ways, and who was the favorite with her father, did not like Lena, either. She did not like her because for her Lena was a fool and so stupid, and she would let those Irish and Italian girls laugh at her and tease her, and everybody always made fun of Lena, and Lena never got mad, or even had sense enough to know that they were all making an awful fool of her. + + Bertha Haydon hated people to be fools. Her father, too, thought Lena was a fool, and so neither the father nor the daughter ever paid any attention to Lena, although she came to their house every other Sunday. + + Lena did not know how all the Haydons felt. She came to her aunt's house all her Sunday afternoons that she had out, because Mrs. Haydon had told her she must do so. In the same way Lena always saved all of her wages. She never thought of any way to spend it. The german cook, the good woman who always scolded Lena, helped her to put it in the bank each month, as soon as she got it. Sometimes before it got into the bank to be taken care of, somebody would ask Lena for it. The little Haydon boy sometimes asked and would get it, and sometimes some of the girls, the ones Lena always sat with, needed some more money; but the german cook, who always scolded Lena, saw to it that this did not happen very often. When it did happen she would scold Lena very sharply, and for the next few months she would not let Lena touch her wages, but put it in the bank for her on the same day that Lena got it. + + So Lena always saved her wages, for she never thought to spend them, and she always went to her aunt's house for her Sundays because she did not know that she could do anything different. + + Mrs. Haydon felt more and more every year that she had done right to bring Lena back with her, for it was all coming out just as she had expected. Lena was good and never wanted her own way, she was learning English, and saving all her wages, and soon Mrs. Haydon would get her a good husband. + + All these four years Mrs. Haydon was busy looking around among all the german people that she knew for the right man to be Lena's husband, and now at last she was quite decided. + + The man Mrs. Haydon wanted for Lena was a young german-american tailor, who worked with his father. He was good and all the family were very saving, and Mrs. Haydon was sure that this would be just right for Lena, and then too, this young tailor always did whatever his father and his mother wanted. + + This old german tailor and his wife, the father and the mother of Herman Kreder, who was to marry Lena Mainz, were very thrifty, careful people. Herman was the only child they had left with them, and he always did everything they wanted. Herman was now twenty-eight years old, but he had never stopped being scolded and directed by his father and his mother. And now they wanted to see him married. + + Herman Kreder did not care much to get married. He was a gentle soul and a little fearful. He had a sullen temper, too. He was obedient to his father and his mother. He always did his work well. He often went out on Saturday nights and on Sundays, with other men. He liked it with them but he never became really joyous. He liked to be with men and he hated to have women with them. He was obedient to his mother, but he did not care much to get married. + + Mrs. Haydon and the elder Kreders had often talked the marriage over. They all three liked it very well. Lena would do anything that Mrs. Haydon wanted, and Herman was always obedient in everything to his father and his mother. Both Lena and Herman were saving and good workers and neither of them ever wanted their own way. + + The elder Kreders, everybody knew, had saved up all their money, and they were hard, good german people, and Mrs. Haydon was sure that with these people Lena would never be in any trouble. Mr. Haydon would not say anything about it. He knew old Kreder had a lot of money and owned some good houses, and he did not care what his wife did with that simple, stupid Lena, so long as she would be sure never to need help or to be in trouble. + + Lena did not care much to get married. She liked her life very well where she was working. She did not think much about Herman Kreder. She thought he was a good man and she always found him very quiet. Neither of them ever spoke much to the other. Lena did not care much just then about getting married. + + Mrs. Haydon spoke to Lena about it very often. Lena never answered anything at all. Mrs. Haydon thought, perhaps Lena did not like Herman Kreder. Mrs. Haydon could not believe that any girl not even Lena, really had no feeling about getting married. + + Mrs. Haydon spoke to Lena very often about Herman. Mrs. Haydon sometimes got very angry with Lena. She was afraid that Lena, for once, was going to be stubborn, now when it was all fixed right for her to be married. + + "Why you stand there so stupid, why don't you answer, Lena," said Mrs. Haydon one Sunday, at the end of a long talking that she was giving Lena about Herman Kreder, and about Lena's getting married to him. + + "Yes ma'am," said Lena, and then Mrs. Haydon was furious with this stupid Lena. "Why don't you answer with some sense, Lena, when I ask you if you don't like Herman Kreder. You stand there so stupid and don't answer just like you ain't heard a word what I been saying to you. I never see anybody like you, Lena. If you going to burst out at all, why don't you burst out sudden instead of standing there so silly and don't answer. And here I am so good to you, and find you a good husband so you can have a place to live in all your own. Answer me, Lena, don't you like Herman Kreder? He is a fine young fellow, almost too good for you, Lena, when you stand there so stupid and don't make no answer. There ain't many poor girls that get the chance you got now to get married." + + "Why, I do anything you say, Aunt Mathilda. Yes, I like him. He don't say much to me, but I guess he is a good man, and I do anything you say for me to do." + + "Well then Lena, why you stand there so silly all the time and not answer when I asked you." + + "I didn't hear you say you wanted I should say anything to you. I didn't know you wanted me to say nothing. I do whatever you tell me it's right for me to do. I marry Herman Kreder, if you want me." + + And so for Lena Mainz the match was made. + + Old Mrs. Kreder did not discuss the matter with her Herman. She never thought that she needed to talk such things over with him. She just told him about getting married to Lena Mainz who was a good worker and very saving and never wanted her own way, and Herman made his usual little grunt in answer to her. + + Mrs. Kreder and Mrs. Haydon fixed the day and made all the arrangements for the wedding and invited everybody who ought to be there to see them married. + + In three months Lena Mainz and Herman Kreder were to be married. + + Mrs. Haydon attended to Lena's getting all the things that she needed. Lena had to help a good deal with the sewing. Lena did not sew very well. Mrs. Haydon scolded because Lena did not do it better, but then she was very good to Lena, and she hired a girl to come and help her. Lena still stayed on with her pleasant mistress, but she spent all her evenings and her Sundays with her aunt and all the sewing. + + Mrs. Haydon got Lena some nice dresses. Lena liked that very well. Lena liked having new hats even better, and Mrs. Haydon had some made for her by a real milliner who made them very pretty. + + Lena was nervous these days, but she did not think much about getting married. She did not know really what it was, that, which was always coming nearer. + + Lena liked the place where she was with the pleasant mistress and the good cook, who always scolded, and she liked the girls she always sat with. She did not ask if she would like being married any better. She always did whatever her aunt said and expected, but she was always nervous when she saw the Kreders with their Herman. She was excited and she liked her new hats, and everybody teased her and every day her marrying was coming nearer, and yet she did not really know what it was, this that was about to happen to her. + + Herman Kreder knew more what it meant to be married and he did not like it very well. He did not like to see girls and he did not want to have to have one always near him. Herman always did everything that his father and his mother wanted and now they wanted that he should be married. + + Herman had a sullen temper; he was gentle and he never said much. He liked to go out with other men, but he never wanted that there should be any women with them. The men all teased him about getting married. Herman did not mind the teasing but he did not like very well the getting married and having a girl always with him. + + Three days before the wedding day, Herman went away to the country to be gone over Sunday. He and Lena were to be married Tuesday afternoon. When the day came Herman had not been seen or heard from. + + The old Kreder couple had not worried much about it. Herman always did everything they wanted and he would surely come back in time to get married. But when Monday night came, and there was no Herman, they went to Mrs. Haydon to tell her what had happened. + + Mrs. Haydon got very much excited. It was hard enough to work so as to get everything all ready, and then to have that silly Herman go off that way, so no one could tell what was going to happen. Here was Lena and everything all ready, and now they would have to make the wedding later so that they would know that Herman would be sure to be there. + + Mrs. Haydon was very much excited, and then she could not say much to the old Kreder couple. She did not want to make them angry, for she wanted very badly now that Lena should be married to their Herman. + + At last it was decided that the wedding should be put off a week longer. Old Mr. Kreder would go to New York to find Herman, for it was very likely that Herman had gone there to his married sister. + + Mrs. Haydon sent word around, about waiting until a week from that Tuesday, to everybody that had been invited, and then Tuesday morning she sent for Lena to come down to see her. + + Mrs. Haydon was very angry with poor Lena when she saw her. She scolded her hard because she was so foolish, and now Herman had gone off and nobody could tell where he had gone to, and all because Lena always was so dumb and silly. And Mrs. Haydon was just like a mother to her, and Lena always stood there so stupid and did not answer what anybody asked her, and Herman was so silly too, and now his father had to go and find him. Mrs. Haydon did not think that any old people should be good to their children. Their children always were so thankless, and never paid any attention, and older people were always doing things for their good. Did Lena think it gave Mrs. Haydon any pleasure, to work so hard to make Lena happy, and get her a good husband, and then Lena was so thankless and never did anything that anybody wanted. It was a lesson to poor Mrs. Haydon not to do things any more for anybody. Let everybody take care of themselves and never come to her with any troubles; she knew better now than to meddle to make other people happy. It just made trouble for her and her husband did not like it. He always said she was too good, and nobody ever thanked her for it, and there Lena was always standing stupid and not answering anything anybody wanted. Lena could always talk enough to those silly girls she liked so much, and always sat with, but who never did anything for her except to take away her money, and here was her aunt who tried so hard and was so good to her and treated her just like one of her own children and Lena stood there, and never made any answer and never tried to please her aunt, or to do anything that her aunt wanted. "No, it ain't no use your standin' there and cryin', now, Lena. Its too late now to care about that Herman. You should have cared some before, and then you wouldn't have to stand and cry now, and be a disappointment to me, and then I get scolded by my husband for taking care of everybody, and nobody ever thankful. I am glad you got the sense to feel sorry now, Lena, anyway, and I try to do what I can to help you out in your trouble, only you don't deserve to have anybody take any trouble for you. But perhaps you know better next time. You go home now and take care you don't spoil your clothes and that new hat, you had no business to be wearin' that this morning, but you ain't got no sense at all, Lena. I never in my life see anybody be so stupid." + + Mrs. Haydon stopped and poor Lena stood there in her hat, all trimmed with pretty flowers, and the tears coming out of her eyes, and Lena did not know what it was that she had done, only she was not going to be married and it was a disgrace for a girl to be left by a man on the very day she was to be married. + + Lena went home all alone, and cried in the street car. + + Poor Lena cried very hard all alone in the street car. She almost spoiled her new hat with her hitting it against the window in her crying. Then she remembered that she must not do so. + + The conductor was a kind man and he was very sorry when he saw her crying. "Don't feel so bad, you get another feller, you are such a nice girl," he said to make her cheerful. "But Aunt Mathilda said now, I never get married," poor Lena sobbed out for her answer. "Why you really got trouble like that," said the conductor, "I just said that now to josh you. I didn't ever think you really was left by a feller. He must be a stupid feller. But don't you worry, he wasn't much good if he could go away and leave you, lookin' to be such a nice girl. You just tell all your trouble to me, and I help you." The car was empty and the conductor sat down beside her to put his arm around her, and to be a comfort to her. Lena suddenly remembered where she was, and if she did things like that her aunt would scold her. She moved away from the man into the corner. He laughed, "Don't be scared," he said, "I wasn't going to hurt you. But you just keep up your spirit. You are a real nice girl, and you'll be sure to get a real good husband. Don't you let nobody fool you. You're all right and I don't want to scare you." + + The conductor went back to his platform to help a passenger get on the car. All the time Lena stayed in the street car, he would come in every little while and reassure her, about her not to feel so bad about a man who hadn't no more sense than to go away and leave her. She'd be sure yet to get a good man, she needn't be so worried, he frequently assured her. + + He chatted with the other passenger who had just come in, a very well dressed old man, and then with another who came in later, a good sort of a working man, and then another who came in, a nice lady, and he told them all about Lena's having trouble, and it was too bad there were men who treated a poor girl so badly. And everybody in the car was sorry for poor Lena and the workman tried to cheer her, and the old man looked sharply at her, and said she looked like a good girl, but she ought to be more careful and not to be so careless, and things like that would not happen to her, and the nice lady went and sat beside her and Lena liked it, though she shrank away from being near her. + + So Lena was feeling a little better when she got off the car, and the conductor helped her, and he called out to her, "You be sure you keep up a good heart now. He wasn't no good that feller and you were lucky for to lose him. You'll get a real man yet, one that will be better for you. Don't you be worried, you're a real nice girl as I ever see in such trouble," and the conductor shook his head and went back into his car to talk it over with the other passengers he had there. + + The german cook, who always scolded Lena, was very angry when she heard the story. She never did think Mrs. Haydon would do so much for Lena, though she was always talking so grand about what she could do for everybody. The good german cook always had been a little distrustful of her. People who always thought they were so much never did really do things right for anybody. Not that Mrs. Haydon wasn't a good woman. Mrs. Haydon was a real, good, german woman, and she did really mean to do well by her niece Lena. The cook knew that very well, and she had always said so, and she always had liked and respected Mrs. Haydon, who always acted very proper to her, and Lena was so backward, when there was a man to talk to, Mrs. Haydon did have hard work when she tried to marry Lena. Mrs. Haydon was a good woman, only she did talk sometimes too grand. Perhaps this trouble would make her see it wasn't always so easy to do, to make everybody do everything just like she wanted. The cook was very sorry now for Mrs. Haydon. All this must be such a disappointment, and such a worry to her, and she really had always been very good to Lena. But Lena had better go and put on her other clothes and stop all that crying. That wouldn't do nothing now to help her, and if Lena would be a good girl, and just be real patient, her aunt would make it all come out right yet for her. "I just tell Mrs. Aldrich, Lena, you stay here yet a little longer. You know she is always so good to you, Lena, and I know she let you, and I tell her all about that stupid Herman Kreder. I got no patience, Lena, with anybody who can be so stupid. You just stop now with your crying, Lena, and take off them good clothes and put them away so you don't spoil them when you need them, and you can help me with the dishes and everything will come off better for you. You see if I ain't right by what I tell you. You just stop crying now Lena quick, or else I scold you." + + Lena still choked a little and was very miserable inside her but she did everything just as the cook told her. + + The girls Lena always sat with were very sorry to see her look so sad with her trouble. Mary the Irish girl sometimes got very angry with her. Mary was always very hot when she talked to Lena's aunt Mathilda, who thought she was so grand, and had such stupid, stuck up daughters. Mary wouldn't be a fat fool like that ugly tempered Mathilda Haydon, not for anything anybody could ever give her. How Lena could keep on going there so much when they all always acted as if she was just dirt to them, Mary never could see. But Lena never had any sense of how she should make people stand round for her, and that was always all the trouble with her. And poor Lena, she was so stupid to be sorry for losing that gawky fool who didn't ever know what he wanted and just said "ja" to his mamma and his papa, like a baby, and was scared to look at a girl straight, and then sneaked away the last day like as if somebody was going to do something to him. Disgrace, Lena talking about disgrace! It was a disgrace for a girl to be seen with the likes of him, let alone to be married to him. But that poor Lena, she never did know how to show herself off for what she was really. Disgrace to have him go away and leave her. Mary would just like to get a chance to show him. If Lena wasn't worth fifteen like Herman Kreder, Mary would just eat her own head all up. It was a good riddance Lena had of that Herman Kreder and his stingy, dirty parents, and if Lena didn't stop crying about it,--Mary would just naturally despise her. + + Poor Lena, she knew very well how Mary meant it all, this she was always saying to her. But Lena was very miserable inside her. She felt the disgrace it was for a decent german girl that a man should go away and leave her. Lena knew very well that her aunt was right when she said the way Herman had acted to her was a disgrace to everyone that knew her. Mary and Nellie and the other girls she always sat with were always very good to Lena but that did not make her trouble any better. It was a disgrace the way Lena had been left, to any decent family, and that could never be made any different to her. + + And so the slow days wore on, and Lena never saw her Aunt Mathilda. At last on Sunday she got word by a boy to go and see her aunt Mathilda. Lena's heart beat quick for she was very nervous now with all this that had happened to her. She went just as quickly as she could to see her Aunt Mathilda. + + Mrs. Haydon quick, as soon as she saw Lena, began to scold her for keeping her aunt waiting so long for her, and for not coming in all the week to see her, to see if her aunt should need her, and so her aunt had to send a boy to tell her. But it was easy, even for Lena, to see that her aunt was not really angry with her. It wasn't Lena's fault, went on Mrs. Haydon, that everything was going to happen all right for her. Mrs. Haydon was very tired taking all this trouble for her, and when Lena couldn't even take trouble to come and see her aunt, to see if she needed anything to tell her. But Mrs. Haydon really never minded things like that when she could do things for anybody. She was tired now, all the trouble she had been taking to make things right for Lena, but perhaps now Lena heard it she would learn a little to be thankful to her. "You get all ready to be married Tuesday, Lena, you hear me," said Mrs. Haydon to her. "You come here Tuesday morning and I have everything all ready for you. You wear your new dress I got you, and your hat with all them flowers on it, and you be very careful coming you don't get your things all dirty, you so careless all the time, Lena, and not thinking, and you act sometimes you never got no head at all on you. You go home now, and you tell your Mrs. Aldrich that you leave her Tuesday. Don't you go forgetting now, Lena, anything I ever told you what you should do to be careful. You be a good girl, now Lena. You get married Tuesday to Herman Kreder." And that was all Lena ever knew of what had happened all this week to Herman Kreder. Lena forgot there was anything to know about it. She was really to be married Tuesday, and her Aunt Mathilda said she was a good girl, and now there was no disgrace left upon her. + + Lena now fell back into the way she always had of being always dreamy and not there, the way she always had been, except for the few days she was so excited, because she had been left by a man the very day she was to have been married. Lena was a little nervous all these last days, but she did not think much about what it meant for her to be married. + + Herman Kreder was not so content about it. He was quiet and was sullen and he knew he could not help it. He knew now he just had to let himself get married. It was not that Herman did not like Lena Mainz. She was as good as any other girl could be for him. She was a little better perhaps than other girls he saw, she was so very quiet, but Herman did not like to always have to have a girl around him. Herman had always done everything that his mother and his father wanted. His father had found him in New York, where Herman had gone to be with his married sister. + + Herman's father when he had found him coaxed Herman a long time and went on whole days with his complaining to him, always troubled but gentle and quite patient with him, and always he was worrying to Herman about what was the right way his boy Herman should always do, always whatever it was his mother ever wanted from him, and always Herman never made him any answer. + + Old Mr. Kreder kept on saying to him, he did not see how Herman could think now, it could be any different. When you make a bargain you just got to stick right to it, that was the only way old Mr. Kreder could ever see it, and saying you would get married to a girl and she got everything all ready, that was a bargain just like one you make in business and Herman he had made it, and now Herman he would just have to do it, old Mr. Kreder didn't see there was any other way a good boy like his Herman had, to do it. And then too that Lena Mainz was such a nice girl and Herman hadn't ought to really give his father so much trouble and make him pay out all that money, to come all the way to New York just to find him, and they both lose all that time from their working, when all Herman had to do was just to stand up, for an hour, and then he would be all right married, and it would be all over for him, and then everything at home would never be any different to him. + + And his father went on; there was his poor mother saying always how her Herman always did everything before she ever wanted, and now just because he got notions in him, and wanted to show people how he could be stubborn, he was making all this trouble for her, and making them pay all that money just to run around and find him. "You got no idea Herman, how bad mama is feeling about the way you been acting Herman," said old Mr. Kreder to him. "She says she never can understand how you can be so thankless Herman. It hurts her very much you been so stubborn, and she find you such a nice girl for you, like Lena Mainz who is always just so quiet and always saves up all her wages, and she never wanting her own way at all like some girls are always all the time to have it, and you mama trying so hard, just so you could be comfortable Herman to be married, and then you act so stubborn Herman. You like all young people Herman, you think only about yourself, and what you are just wanting, and your mama she is thinking only what is good for you to have, for you in the future. Do you think your mama wants to have a girl around to be a bother, for herself, Herman. Its just for you Herman she is always thinking, and she talks always about how happy she will be, when she sees her Herman married to a nice girl, and then when she fixed it all up so good for you, so it never would be any bother to you, just the way she wanted you should like it, and you say yes all right, I do it, and then you go away like this and act stubborn, and make all this trouble everybody to take for you, and we spend money, and I got to travel all round to find you. You come home now with me Herman and get married, and I tell your mama she better not say anything to you about how much it cost me to come all the way to look for you--Hey Herman," said his father coaxing, "Hey, you come home now and get married. All you got to do Herman is just to stand up for an hour Herman, and then you don't never to have any more bother to it--Hey Herman!--you come home with me to-morrow and get married. Hey Herman." + + Herman's married sister liked her brother Herman, and she had always tried to help him, when there was anything she knew he wanted. She liked it that he was so good and always did everything that their father and their mother wanted, but still she wished it could be that he could have more his own way, if there was anything he ever wanted. + + But now she thought Herman with his girl was very funny. She wanted that Herman should be married. She thought it would do him lots of good to get married. She laughed at Herman when she heard the story. Until his father came to find him, she did not know why it was Herman had come just then to New York to see her. When she heard the story she laughed a good deal at her brother Herman and teased him a good deal about his running away, because he didn't want to have a girl to be all the time around him. + + Herman's married sister liked her brother Herman, and she did not want him not to like to be with women. He was good, her brother Herman, and it would surely do him good to get married. It would make him stand up for himself stronger. Herman's sister always laughed at him and always she would try to reassure him. "Such a nice man as my brother Herman acting like as if he was afraid of women. Why the girls all like a man like you Herman, if you didn't always run away when you saw them. It do you good really Herman to get married, and then you got somebody you can boss around when you want to. It do you good Herman to get married, you see if you don't like it, when you really done it. You go along home now with papa, Herman and get married to that Lena. You don't know how nice you like it Herman when you try once how you can do it. You just don't be afraid of nothing, Herman. You good enough for any girl to marry, Herman. Any girl be glad to have a man like you to be always with them Herman. You just go along home with papa and try it what I say, Herman. Oh you so funny Herman, when you sit there, and then run away and leave your girl behind you. I know she is crying like anything Herman for to lose you. Don't be bad to her Herman. You go along home with papa now and get married Herman. I'd be awful ashamed Herman, to really have a brother didn't have spirit enough to get married, when a girl is just dying for to have him. You always like me to be with you Herman. I don't see why you say you don't want a girl to be all the time around you. You always been good to me Herman, and I know you always be good to that Lena, and you soon feel just like as if she had always been there with you. Don't act like as if you wasn't a nice strong man, Herman. Really I laugh at you Herman, but you know I like awful well to see you real happy. You go home and get married to that Lena, Herman. She is a real pretty girl and real nice and good and quiet and she make my brother Herman very happy. You just stop your fussing now with Herman, papa. He go with you to-morrow papa, and you see he like it so much to be married, he make everybody laugh just to see him be so happy. Really truly, that's the way it will be with you Herman. You just listen to me what I tell you Herman." And so his sister laughed at him and reassured him, and his father kept on telling what the mother always said about her Herman, and he coaxed him and Herman never said anything in answer, and his sister packed his things up and was very cheerful with him, and she kissed him, and then she laughed and then she kissed him, and his father went and bought the tickets for the train, and at last late on Sunday he brought Herman back to Bridgepoint with him. + + It was always very hard to keep Mrs. Kreder from saying what she thought, to her Herman, but her daughter had written her a letter, so as to warn her not to say anything about what he had been doing, to him, and her husband came in with Herman and said, "Here we are come home mama, Herman and me, and we are very tired it was so crowded coming," and then he whispered to her. "You be good to Herman, mama, he didn't mean to make us so much trouble," and so old Mrs. Kreder, held in what she felt was so strong in her to say to her Herman. She just said very stiffly to him, "I'm glad to see you come home to-day, Herman." Then she went to arrange it all with Mrs. Haydon. + + Herman was now again just like he always had been, sullen and very good, and very quiet, and always ready to do whatever his mother and his father wanted. Tuesday morning came, Herman got his new clothes on and went with his father and his mother to stand up for an hour and get married. Lena was there in her new dress, and her hat with all the pretty flowers, and she was very nervous for now she knew she was really very soon to be married. Mrs. Haydon had everything all ready. Everybody was there just as they should be and very soon Herman Kreder and Lena Mainz were married. + + When everything was really over, they went back to the Kreder house together. They were all now to live together, Lena and Herman and the old father and the old mother, in the house where Mr. Kreder had worked so many years as a tailor, with his son Herman always there to help him. + + Irish Mary had often said to Lena she never did see how Lena could ever want to have anything to do with Herman Kreder and his dirty stingy parents. The old Kreders were to an Irish nature, a stingy, dirty couple. They had not the free-hearted, thoughtless, fighting, mud bespattered, ragged, peat-smoked cabin dirt that irish Mary knew and could forgive and love. Theirs was the german dirt of saving, of being dowdy and loose and foul in your clothes so as to save them and yourself in washing, having your hair greasy to save it in the soap and drying, having your clothes dirty, not in freedom, but because so it was cheaper, keeping the house close and smelly because so it cost less to get it heated, living so poorly not only so as to save money but so they should never even know themselves that they had it, working all the time not only because from their nature they just had to and because it made them money but also that they never could be put in any way to make them spend their money. + + This was the place Lena now had for her home and to her it was very different than it could be for an irish Mary. She too was german and was thrifty, though she was always so dreamy and not there. Lena was always careful with things and she always saved her money, for that was the only way she knew how to do it. She never had taken care of her own money and she never had thought how to use it. + + Lena Mainz had been, before she was Mrs. Herman Kreder, always clean and decent in her clothes and in her person, but it was not because she ever thought about it or really needed so to have it, it was the way her people did in the german country where she came from, and her Aunt Mathilda and the good german cook who always scolded, had kept her on and made her, with their scoldings, always more careful to keep clean and to wash real often. But there was no deep need in all this for Lena and so, though Lena did not like the old Kreders, though she really did not know that, she did not think about their being stingy dirty people. + + Herman Kreder was cleaner than the old people, just because it was his nature to keep cleaner, but he was used to his mother and his father, and he never thought that they should keep things cleaner. And Herman too always saved all his money, except for that little beer he drank when he went out with other men of an evening the way he always liked to do it, and he never thought of any other way to spend it. His father had always kept all the money for them and he always was doing business with it. And then too Herman really had no money, for he always had worked for his father, and his father had never thought to pay him. + + And so they began all four to live in the Kreder house together, and Lena began soon with it to look careless and a little dirty, and to be more lifeless with it, and nobody ever noticed much what Lena wanted, and she never really knew herself what she needed. + + The only real trouble that came to Lena with their living all four there together, was the way old Mrs. Kreder scolded. Lena had always been used to being scolded, but this scolding of old Mrs. Kreder was very different from the way she ever before had had to endure it. + + Herman, now he was married to her, really liked Lena very well. He did not care very much about her but she never was a bother to him being there around him, only when his mother worried and was nasty to them because Lena was so careless, and did not know how to save things right for them with their eating, and all the other ways with money, that the old woman had to save it. + + Herman Kreder had always done everything his mother and his father wanted but he did not really love his parents very deeply. With Herman it was always only that he hated to have any struggle. It was all always all right with him when he could just go along and do the same thing over every day with his working, and not to hear things, and not to have people make him listen to their anger. And now his marriage, and he just knew it would, was making trouble for him. It made him hear more what his mother was always saying, with her scolding. He had to really hear it now because Lena was there, and she was so scared and dull always when she heard it. Herman knew very well with his mother, it was all right if one ate very little and worked hard all day and did not hear her when she scolded, the way Herman always had done before they were so foolish about his getting married and having a girl there to be all the time around him, and now he had to help her so the girl could learn too, not to hear it when his mother scolded, and not to look so scared, and not to eat much, and always to be sure to save it. + + Herman really did not know very well what he could do to help Lena to understand it. He could never answer his mother back to help Lena, that never would make things any better for her, and he never could feel in himself any way to comfort Lena, to make her strong not to hear his mother, in all the awful ways she always scolded. It just worried Herman to have it like that all the time around him. Herman did not know much about how a man could make a struggle with a mother, to do much to keep her quiet, and indeed Herman never knew much how to make a struggle against anyone who really wanted to have anything very badly. Herman all his life never wanted anything so badly, that he would really make a struggle against any one to get it. Herman all his life only wanted to live regular and quiet, and not talk much and to do the same way every day like every other with his working. And now his mother had made him get married to this Lena and now with his mother making all that scolding, he had all this trouble and this worry always on him. + + Mrs. Haydon did not see Lena now very often. She had not lost her interest in her niece Lena, but Lena could not come much to her house to see her, it would not be right, now Lena was a married woman. And then too Mrs. Haydon had her hands full just then with her two daughters, for she was getting them ready to find them good husbands, and then too her own husband now worried her very often about her always spoiling that boy of hers, so he would be sure to turn out no good and be a disgrace to a german family, and all because his mother always spoiled him. All these things were very worrying now to Mrs. Haydon, but still she wanted to be good to Lena, though she could not see her very often. She only saw her when Mrs. Haydon went to call on Mrs. Kreder or when Mrs. Kreder came to see Mrs. Haydon, and that never could be very often. Then too these days Mrs. Haydon could not scold Lena, Mrs. Kreder was always there with her, and it would not be right to scold Lena, when Mrs. Kreder was there, who had now the real right to do it. And so her aunt always said nice things now to Lena, and though Mrs. Haydon sometimes was a little worried when she saw Lena looking sad and not careful, she did not have time just then to really worry much about it. + + Lena now never any more saw the girls she always used to sit with. She had no way now to see them and it was not in Lena's nature to search out ways to see them, nor did she now ever think much of the days when she had been used to see them. They never any of them had come to the Kreder house to see her. Not even Irish Mary had ever thought to come to see her. Lena had been soon forgotten by them. They had soon passed away from Lena and now Lena never thought any more that she had ever known them. + + The only one of her old friends who tried to know what Lena liked and what she needed, and who always made Lena come to see her, was the good german cook who had always scolded. She now scolded Lena hard for letting herself go so, and going out when she was looking so untidy. "I know you going to have a baby Lena, but that's no way for you to be looking. I am ashamed most to see you come and sit here in my kitchen, looking so sloppy and like you never used to Lena. I never see anybody like you Lena. Herman is very good to you, you always say so, and he don't treat you bad even though you don't deserve to have anybody good to you, you so careless all the time, Lena, letting yourself go like you never had anybody tell you what was the right way you should know how to be looking. No, Lena, I don't see no reason you should let yourself go so and look so untidy Lena, so I am ashamed to see you sit there looking so ugly, Lena. No Lena that ain't no way ever I see a woman make things come out better, letting herself go so every way and crying all the time like as if you had real trouble. I never wanted to see you marry Herman Kreder, Lena, I knew what you got to stand with that old woman always, and that old man, he is so stingy too and he don't say things out but he ain't any better in his heart than his wife with her bad ways, I know that Lena, I know they don't hardly give you enough to eat, Lena, I am real sorry for you Lena, you know that Lena, but that ain't any way to be going round so untidy Lena, even if you have got all that trouble. You never see me do like that Lena, though sometimes I got a headache so I can't see to stand to be working hardly, and nothing comes right with all my cooking, but I always see Lena, I look decent. That's the only way a german girl can make things come out right Lena. You hear me what I am saying to you Lena. Now you eat something nice Lena, I got it all ready for you, and you wash up and be careful Lena and the baby will come all right to you, and then I make your Aunt Mathilda see that you live in a house soon all alone with Herman and your baby, and then everything go better for you. You hear me what I say to you Lena. Now don't let me ever see you come looking like this any more Lena, and you just stop with that always crying. You ain't got no reason to be sitting there now with all that crying, I never see anybody have trouble it did them any good to do the way you are doing, Lena. You hear me Lena. You go home now and you be good the way I tell you Lena, and I see what I can do. I make your Aunt Mathilda make old Mrs. Kreder let you be till you get your baby all right. Now don't you be scared and so silly Lena. I don't like to see you act so Lena when really you got a nice man and so many things really any girl should be grateful to be having. Now you go home Lena to-day and you do the way I say, to you, and I see what I can do to help you." + + "Yes Mrs. Aldrich" said the good german woman to her mistress later, "Yes Mrs. Aldrich that's the way it is with them girls when they want so to get married. They don't know when they got it good Mrs. Aldrich. They never know what it is they're really wanting when they got it, Mrs. Aldrich. There's that poor Lena, she just been here crying and looking so careless so I scold her, but that was no good that marrying for that poor Lena, Mrs. Aldrich. She do look so pale and sad now Mrs. Aldrich, it just break my heart to see her. She was a good girl was Lena, Mrs. Aldrich, and I never had no trouble with her like I got with so many young girls nowadays, Mrs. Aldrich, and I never see any girl any better to work right than our Lena, and now she got to stand it all the time with that old woman Mrs. Kreder. My! Mrs. Aldrich, she is a bad old woman to her. I never see Mrs. Aldrich how old people can be so bad to young girls and not have no kind of patience with them. If Lena could only live with her Herman, he ain't so bad the way men are, Mrs. Aldrich, but he is just the way always his mother wants him, he ain't got no spirit in him, and so I don't really see no help for that poor Lena. I know her aunt, Mrs. Haydon, meant it all right for her Mrs. Aldrich, but poor Lena, it would be better for her if her Herman had stayed there in New York that time he went away to leave her. I don't like it the way Lena is looking now, Mrs. Aldrich. She looks like as if she don't have no life left in her hardly, Mrs. Aldrich, she just drags around and looks so dirty and after all the pains I always took to teach her and to keep her nice in her ways and looking. It don't do no good to them, for them girls to get married Mrs. Aldrich, they are much better when they only know it, to stay in a good place when they got it, and keep on regular with their working. I don't like it the way Lena looks now Mrs. Aldrich. I wish I knew some way to help that poor Lena, Mrs. Aldrich, but she she is a bad old woman, that old Mrs. Kreder, Herman's mother. I speak to Mrs. Haydon real soon, Mrs. Aldrich, I see what we can do now to help that poor Lena." + + These were really bad days for poor Lena. Herman always was real good to her and now he even sometimes tried to stop his mother from scolding Lena. "She ain't well now mama, you let her be now you hear me. You tell me what it is you want she should be doing, I tell her. I see she does it right just the way you want it mama. You let be, I say now mama, with that always scolding Lena. You let be, I say now, you wait till she is feeling better." Herman was getting really strong to struggle, for he could see that Lena with that baby working hard inside her, really could not stand it any longer with his mother and the awful ways she always scolded. + + It was a new feeling Herman now had inside him that made him feel he was strong to make a struggle. It was new for Herman Kreder really to be wanting something, but Herman wanted strongly now to be a father, and he wanted badly that his baby should be a boy and healthy, Herman never had cared really very much about his father and his mother, though always, all his life, he had done everything just as they wanted, and he had never really cared much about his wife, Lena, though he always had been very good to her, and had always tried to keep his mother off her, with the awful way she always scolded, but to be really a father of a little baby, that feeling took hold of Herman very deeply. He was almost ready, so as to save his baby from all trouble, to really make a strong struggle with his mother and with his father, too, if he would not help him to control his mother. + + Sometimes Herman even went to Mrs. Haydon to talk all this trouble over. They decided then together, it was better to wait there all four together for the baby, and Herman could make Mrs. Kreder stop a little with her scolding, and then when Lena was a little stronger, Herman should have his own house for her, next door to his father, so he could always be there to help him in his working, but so they could eat and sleep in a house where the old woman could not control them and they could not hear her awful scolding. + + And so things went on, the same way, a little longer. Poor Lena was not feeling any joy to have a baby. She was scared the way she had been when she was so sick on the water. She was scared now every time when anything would hurt her. She was scared and still and lifeless, and sure that every minute she would die. Lena had no power to be strong in this kind of trouble, she could only sit still and be scared, and dull, and lifeless, and sure that every minute she would die. + + Before very long, Lena had her baby. He was a good, healthy little boy, the baby. Herman cared very much to have the baby. When Lena was a little stronger he took a house next door to the old couple, so he and his own family could eat and sleep and do the way they wanted. This did not seem to make much change now for Lena. She was just the same as when she was waiting with her baby. She just dragged around and was careless with her clothes and all lifeless, and she acted always and lived on just as if she had no feeling. She always did everything regular with the work, the way she always had had to do it, but she never got back any spirit in her. Herman was always good and kind, and always helped her with her working. He did everything he knew to help her. He always did all the active new things in the house and for the baby. Lena did what she had to do the way she always had been taught it. She always just kept going now with her working, and she was always careless, and dirty, and a little dazed, and lifeless. Lena never got any better in herself of this way of being that she had had ever since she had been married. + + Mrs. Haydon never saw any more of her niece, Lena. Mrs. Haydon had now so much trouble with her own house, and her daughters getting married, and her boy, who was growing up, and who always was getting so much worse to manage. She knew she had done right by Lena. Herman Kreder was a good man, she would be glad to get one so good, sometimes, for her own daughters, and now they had a home to live in together, separate from the old people, who had made their trouble for them. Mrs. Haydon felt she had done very well by her niece, Lena, and she never thought now she needed any more to go and see her. Lena would do very well now without her aunt to trouble herself any more about her. + + The good german cook who had always scolded, still tried to do her duty like a mother to poor Lena. It was very hard now to do right by Lena. Lena never seemed to hear now what anyone was saying to her. Herman was always doing everything he could to help her. Herman always, when he was home, took good care of the baby. Herman loved to take care of his baby. Lena never thought to take him out or to do anything she didn't have to. + + The good cook sometimes made Lena come to see her. Lena would come with her baby and sit there in the kitchen, and watch the good woman cooking, and listen to her sometimes a little, the way she used to, while the good german woman scolded her for going around looking so careless when now she had no trouble, and sitting there so dull, and always being just so thankless. Sometimes Lena would wake up a little and get back into her face her old, gentle, patient, and unsuffering sweetness, but mostly Lena did not seem to hear much when the good german woman scolded. Lena always liked it when Mrs. Aldrich her good mistress spoke to her kindly, and then Lena would seem to go back and feel herself to be like she was when she had been in service. But mostly Lena just lived along and was careless in her clothes, and dull, and lifeless. + + By and by Lena had two more little babies. Lena was not so much scared now when she had the babies. She did not seem to notice very much when they hurt her, and she never seemed to feel very much now about anything that happened to her. + + They were very nice babies, all these three that Lena had, and Herman took good care of them always. Herman never really cared much about his wife, Lena. The only things Herman ever really cared for were his babies. Herman always was very good to his children. He always had a gentle, tender way when he held them. He learned to be very handy with them. He spent all the time he was not working, with them. By and by he began to work all day in his own home so that he could have his children always in the same room with him. + + Lena always was more and more lifeless and Herman now mostly never thought about her. He more and more took all the care of their three children. He saw to their eating right and their washing, and he dressed them every morning, and he taught them the right way to do things, and he put them to their sleeping, and he was now always every minute with them. Then there was to come to them, a fourth baby. Lena went to the hospital near by to have the baby. Lena seemed to be going to have much trouble with it. When the baby was come out at last, it was like its mother lifeless. While it was coming, Lena had grown very pale and sicker. When it was all over Lena had died, too, and nobody knew just how it had happened to her. + + The good german cook who had always scolded Lena, and had always to the last day tried to help her, was the only one who ever missed her. She remembered how nice Lena had looked all the time she was in service with her, and how her voice had been so gentle and sweet-sounding, and how she always was a good girl, and how she never had to have any trouble with her, the way she always had with all the other girls who had been taken into the house to help her. The good cook sometimes spoke so of Lena when she had time to have a talk with Mrs. Aldrich, and this was all the remembering there now ever was of Lena. + + Herman Kreder now always lived very happy, very gentle, very quiet, very well content alone with his three children. He never had a woman any more to be all the time around him. He always did all his own work in his house, when he was through every day with the work he was always doing for his father. Herman always was alone, and he always worked alone, until his little ones were big enough to help him. Herman Kreder was very well content now and he always lived very regular and peaceful, and with every day just like the next one, always alone now with his three good, gentle children. + + FINIS + + + + End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Lives, by Gertrude Stein + + *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE LIVES *** + + ***** This file should be named 15408.txt or 15408.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.net/1/5/4/0/15408/ + + Produced by S.R.Ellison, Suzanne Shell, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. + + Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Dracula + +Author: Bram Stoker + +Release Date: May 9, 2008 [EBook #345] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DRACULA *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +DRACULA + +by + +Bram Stoker + + +1897 edition + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + 1 Jonathan Harker's Journal + 2 Jonathan Harker's Journal + 3 Jonathan Harker's Journal + 4 Jonathan Harker's Journal + 5 Letter From Miss Mina Murray To Miss Lucy Westenra + 6 Mina Murray's Journal + 7 Cutting From "The Dailygraph", 8 August + 8 Mina Murray's Journal + 9 Letter, Mina Harker To Lucy Westenra + 10 Letter, Dr. Seward To Hon. Arthur Holmwood + 11 Lucy Westenra's Diary + 12 Dr. Seward's Diary + 13 Dr. Seward's Diary + 14 Mina Harker's Journal + 15 Dr. Seward's Diary + 16 Dr. Seward's Diary + 17 Dr. Seward's Diary + 18 Dr. Seward's Diary + 19 Jonathan Harker's Journal + 20 Jonathan Harker's Journal + 21 Dr. Seward's Diary + 22 Jonathan Harker's Journal + 23 Dr. Seward's Diary + 24 Dr. Seward's Phonograph Diary + 25 Dr. Seward's Diary + 26 Dr. Seward's Diary + 27 Mina Harker's Journal + + + + +CHAPTER 1 + + +Jonathan Harker's Journal + +3 May. Bistritz.--Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at +Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was +an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse +which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through +the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had +arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible. + +The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the +East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is +here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish +rule. + +We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. +Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, +or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which +was very good but thirsty. (Mem. get recipe for Mina.) I asked the +waiter, and he said it was called "paprika hendl," and that, as it was +a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the +Carpathians. + +I found my smattering of German very useful here, indeed, I don't know +how I should be able to get on without it. + +Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the +British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the +library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some +foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some importance +in dealing with a nobleman of that country. + + +I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the +country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia, +and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the +wildest and least known portions of Europe. + +I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality +of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to +compare with our own Ordance Survey Maps; but I found that Bistritz, +the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I +shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when +I talk over my travels with Mina. + +In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct +nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs, +who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and +Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among the latter, who +claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for +when the Magyars conquered the country in the eleventh century they +found the Huns settled in it. + +I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the +horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of +imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., +I must ask the Count all about them.) + +I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had +all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my +window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have +been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, +and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the +continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been sleeping +soundly then. + +I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize +flour which they said was "mamaliga", and egg-plant stuffed with +forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call "impletata". (Mem., +get recipe for this also.) + +I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, +or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station +at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we +began to move. + +It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are +the trains. What ought they to be in China? + +All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of +beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the +top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran by +rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each +side of them to be subject to great floods. It takes a lot of water, +and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear. + +At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in +all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home +or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets, +and round hats, and home-made trousers; but others were very +picturesque. + +The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were +very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some +kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of +something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of +course there were petticoats under them. + +The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian +than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white +trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly +a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, +with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and +heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, but do not look +prepossessing. On the stage they would be set down at once as some +old Oriental band of brigands. They are, however, I am told, very +harmless and rather wanting in natural self-assertion. + +It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is +a very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier--for +the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina--it has had a very stormy +existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a +series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five +separate occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century +it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the +casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease. + +Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I +found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of +course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country. + +I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a +cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress--white +undergarment with a long double apron, front, and back, of coloured +stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she +bowed and said, "The Herr Englishman?" + +"Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker." + +She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white +shirtsleeves, who had followed her to the door. + +He went, but immediately returned with a letter: + +"My friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting +you. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will +start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo +Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust +that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you +will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.--Your friend, Dracula." + + +4 May--I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, +directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on +making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and +pretended that he could not understand my German. + +This could not be true, because up to then he had understood it +perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he did. + +He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each +other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled out that the money had +been sent in a letter, and that was all he knew. When I asked him if +he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both +he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing +at all, simply refused to speak further. It was so near the time of +starting that I had no time to ask anyone else, for it was all very +mysterious and not by any means comforting. + +Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in +a hysterical way: "Must you go? Oh! Young Herr, must you go?" She +was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of +what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language +which I did not know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking +many questions. When I told her that I must go at once, and that I +was engaged on important business, she asked again: + +"Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of +May. She shook her head as she said again: + +"Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?" + +On my saying that I did not understand, she went on: + +"It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that tonight, +when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will +have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are +going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort +her, but without effect. Finally, she went down on her knees and +implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. + +It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, +there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere +with it. + +I tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I +thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go. + +She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck +offered it to me. + +I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been +taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it +seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such +a state of mind. + +She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round +my neck and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of the room. + +I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for the +coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round my +neck. + +Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly traditions of +this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am not +feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual. + +If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my +goodbye. Here comes the coach! + + +5 May. The Castle.--The gray of the morning has passed, and the sun +is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with +trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and +little are mixed. + +I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake, naturally +I write till sleep comes. + +There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may +fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my +dinner exactly. + +I dined on what they called "robber steak"--bits of bacon, onion, and +beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks, and roasted over +the fire, in simple style of the London cat's meat! + +The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the +tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable. + +I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else. + +When I got on the coach, the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw +him talking to the landlady. + +They were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they looked +at me, and some of the people who were sitting on the bench outside +the door--came and listened, and then looked at me, most of them +pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer words, +for there were many nationalities in the crowd, so I quietly got my +polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out. + +I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were +"Ordog"--Satan, "Pokol"--hell, "stregoica"--witch, "vrolok" and +"vlkoslak"--both mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other +Servian for something that is either werewolf or vampire. (Mem., I +must ask the Count about these superstitions.) + +When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this time +swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of the cross and +pointed two fingers towards me. + +With some difficulty, I got a fellow passenger to tell me what they +meant. He would not answer at first, but on learning that I was +English, he explained that it was a charm or guard against the evil +eye. + +This was not very pleasant for me, just starting for an unknown place +to meet an unknown man. But everyone seemed so kind-hearted, and so +sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I could not but be touched. + +I shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of the inn yard and +its crowd of picturesque figures, all crossing themselves, as they +stood round the wide archway, with its background of rich foliage of +oleander and orange trees in green tubs clustered in the centre of the +yard. + +Then our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered the whole front of +the boxseat,--"gotza" they call them--cracked his big whip over his +four small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on our journey. + +I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty of +the scene as we drove along, although had I known the language, or +rather languages, which my fellow-passengers were speaking, I might +not have been able to throw them off so easily. Before us lay a green +sloping land full of forests and woods, with here and there steep +hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with farmhouses, the blank +gable end to the road. There was everywhere a bewildering mass of +fruit blossom--apple, plum, pear, cherry. And as we drove by I could +see the green grass under the trees spangled with the fallen petals. +In and out amongst these green hills of what they call here the +"Mittel Land" ran the road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy +curve, or was shut out by the straggling ends of pine woods, which +here and there ran down the hillsides like tongues of flame. The road +was rugged, but still we seemed to fly over it with a feverish haste. +I could not understand then what the haste meant, but the driver was +evidently bent on losing no time in reaching Borgo Prund. I was told +that this road is in summertime excellent, but that it had not yet +been put in order after the winter snows. In this respect it is +different from the general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it is +an old tradition that they are not to be kept in too good order. Of +old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the Turk should think +that they were preparing to bring in foreign troops, and so hasten the +war which was always really at loading point. + +Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes +of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right +and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full upon +them and bringing out all the glorious colours of this beautiful +range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and +brown where grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of +jagged rock and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the +distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed +mighty rifts in the mountains, through which, as the sun began to +sink, we saw now and again the white gleam of falling water. One of +my companions touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill and +opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as +we wound on our serpentine way, to be right before us. + +"Look! Isten szek!"--"God's seat!"--and he crossed himself reverently. + +As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower +behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. This +was emphasized by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held the +sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here and +there we passed Cszeks and slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I +noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were +many crosses, and as we swept by, my companions all crossed +themselves. Here and there was a peasant man or woman kneeling before +a shrine, who did not even turn round as we approached, but seemed in +the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the +outer world. There were many things new to me. For instance, +hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses of +weeping birch, their white stems shining like silver through the +delicate green of the leaves. + +Now and again we passed a leiter-wagon--the ordinary peasants's +cart--with its long, snakelike vertebra, calculated to suit the +inequalities of the road. On this were sure to be seated quite a +group of homecoming peasants, the Cszeks with their white, and the +Slovaks with their coloured sheepskins, the latter carrying +lance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell +it began to get very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to merge +into one dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine, +though in the valleys which ran deep between the spurs of the hills, +as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out here and +there against the background of late-lying snow. Sometimes, as the +road was cut through the pine woods that seemed in the darkness to be +closing down upon us, great masses of greyness which here and there +bestrewed the trees, produced a peculiarly weird and solemn effect, +which carried on the thoughts and grim fancies engendered earlier in +the evening, when the falling sunset threw into strange relief the +ghost-like clouds which amongst the Carpathians seem to wind +ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes the hills were so steep +that, despite our driver's haste, the horses could only go slowly. I +wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, but the driver +would not hear of it. "No, no," he said. "You must not walk here. +The dogs are too fierce." And then he added, with what he evidently +meant for grim pleasantry--for he looked round to catch the approving +smile of the rest--"And you may have enough of such matters before you +go to sleep." The only stop he would make was a moment's pause to +light his lamps. + +When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the +passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, as +though urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses unmercifully +with his long whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged them on +to further exertions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort of +patch of grey light ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in the +hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater. The crazy +coach rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat +tossed on a stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, +and we appeared to fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come +nearer to us on each side and to frown down upon us. We were entering +on the Borgo Pass. One by one several of the passengers offered me +gifts, which they pressed upon me with an earnestness which would take +no denial. These were certainly of an odd and varied kind, but each +was given in simple good faith, with a kindly word, and a blessing, +and that same strange mixture of fear-meaning movements which I had +seen outside the hotel at Bistritz--the sign of the cross and the +guard against the evil eye. Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned +forward, and on each side the passengers, craning over the edge of the +coach, peered eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that +something very exciting was either happening or expected, but though I +asked each passenger, no one would give me the slightest explanation. +This state of excitement kept on for some little time. And at last we +saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern side. There were +dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive +sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had +separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous +one. I was now myself looking out for the conveyance which was to +take me to the Count. Each moment I expected to see the glare of +lamps through the blackness, but all was dark. The only light was the +flickering rays of our own lamps, in which the steam from our +hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud. We could see now the sandy +road lying white before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle. +The passengers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock +my own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best do, +when the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others something +which I could hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low a +tone, I thought it was "An hour less than the time." Then turning to +me, he spoke in German worse than my own. + +"There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all. He +will now come on to Bukovina, and return tomorrow or the next day, +better the next day." Whilst he was speaking the horses began to +neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that the driver had to hold them +up. Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants and a +universal crossing of themselves, a caleche, with four horses, drove +up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the coach. I could see +from the flash of our lamps as the rays fell on them, that the horses +were coal-black and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, +with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide +his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright +eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us. + +He said to the driver, "You are early tonight, my friend." + +The man stammered in reply, "The English Herr was in a hurry." + +To which the stranger replied, "That is why, I suppose, you wished him +to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend. I know too +much, and my horses are swift." + +As he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, +with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of +my companions whispered to another the line from Burger's "Lenore". + +"Denn die Todten reiten Schnell." ("For the dead travel fast.") + +The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a +gleaming smile. The passenger turned his face away, at the same time +putting out his two fingers and crossing himself. "Give me the Herr's +luggage," said the driver, and with exceeding alacrity my bags were +handed out and put in the caleche. Then I descended from the side of +the coach, as the caleche was close alongside, the driver helping me +with a hand which caught my arm in a grip of steel. His strength must +have been prodigious. + +Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and we swept +into the darkness of the pass. As I looked back I saw the steam from +the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps, and projected +against it the figures of my late companions crossing themselves. +Then the driver cracked his whip and called to his horses, and off +they swept on their way to Bukovina. As they sank into the darkness I +felt a strange chill, and a lonely feeling come over me. But a cloak +was thrown over my shoulders, and a rug across my knees, and the +driver said in excellent German--"The night is chill, mein Herr, and +my master the Count bade me take all care of you. There is a flask of +slivovitz (the plum brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you +should require it." + +I did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was there all the +same. I felt a little strangely, and not a little frightened. I +think had there been any alternative I should have taken it, instead +of prosecuting that unknown night journey. The carriage went at a +hard pace straight along, then we made a complete turn and went along +another straight road. It seemed to me that we were simply going over +and over the same ground again, and so I took note of some salient +point, and found that this was so. I would have liked to have asked +the driver what this all meant, but I really feared to do so, for I +thought that, placed as I was, any protest would have had no effect in +case there had been an intention to delay. + +By-and-by, however, as I was curious to know how time was passing, I +struck a match, and by its flame looked at my watch. It was within a +few minutes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose +the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent +experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense. + +Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road, a +long, agonized wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by +another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind +which now sighed softly through the Pass, a wild howling began, which +seemed to come from all over the country, as far as the imagination +could grasp it through the gloom of the night. + +At the first howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the driver +spoke to them soothingly, and they quieted down, but shivered and +sweated as though after a runaway from sudden fright. Then, far off +in the distance, from the mountains on each side of us began a louder +and a sharper howling, that of wolves, which affected both the horses +and myself in the same way. For I was minded to jump from the caleche +and run, whilst they reared again and plunged madly, so that the +driver had to use all his great strength to keep them from bolting. +In a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed to the sound, +and the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able to descend +and to stand before them. + +He petted and soothed them, and whispered something in their ears, as +I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with extraordinary effect, for +under his caresses they became quite manageable again, though they +still trembled. The driver again took his seat, and shaking his +reins, started off at a great pace. This time, after going to the far +side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow roadway which ran +sharply to the right. + +Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right over +the roadway till we passed as through a tunnel. And again great +frowning rocks guarded us boldly on either side. Though we were in +shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled +through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as +we swept along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery +snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us were covered +with a white blanket. The keen wind still carried the howling of the +dogs, though this grew fainter as we went on our way. The baying of +the wolves sounded nearer and nearer, as though they were closing +round on us from every side. I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses +shared my fear. The driver, however, was not in the least disturbed. +He kept turning his head to left and right, but I could not see +anything through the darkness. + +Suddenly, away on our left I saw a faint flickering blue flame. The +driver saw it at the same moment. He at once checked the horses, and, +jumping to the ground, disappeared into the darkness. I did not know +what to do, the less as the howling of the wolves grew closer. But +while I wondered, the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a +word took his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have +fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be +repeated endlessly, and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful +nightmare. Once the flame appeared so near the road, that even in the +darkness around us I could watch the driver's motions. He went +rapidly to where the blue flame arose, it must have been very faint, +for it did not seem to illumine the place around it at all, and +gathering a few stones, formed them into some device. + +Once there appeared a strange optical effect. When he stood between +me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly +flicker all the same. This startled me, but as the effect was only +momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me straining through the +darkness. Then for a time there were no blue flames, and we sped +onwards through the gloom, with the howling of the wolves around us, +as though they were following in a moving circle. + +At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he +had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble +worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see +any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether. +But just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared +behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its +light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling +red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a +hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than +even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of +fear. It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such +horrors that he can understand their true import. + +All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had +some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, and +looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to +see. But the living ring of terror encompassed them on every side, +and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to the coachman +to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break +out through the ring and to aid his approach, I shouted and beat the +side of the caleche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from the +side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came +there, I know not, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious +command, and looking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. +As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable +obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just then a +heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were again +in darkness. + +When I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche, and +the wolves disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that a +dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The +time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost +complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. + +We kept on ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in +the main always ascending. Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact +that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the +courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came +no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line +against the sky. + + + + +CHAPTER 2 + + +Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued + +5 May.--I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully +awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place. In +the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and as several +dark ways led from it under great round arches, it perhaps seemed +bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able to see it by +daylight. + +When the caleche stopped, the driver jumped down and held out his hand +to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his prodigious +strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice that could have +crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took my traps, and placed them +on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and +studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting doorway of +massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that the stone was +massively carved, but that the carving had been much worn by time and +weather. As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat and shook +the reins. The horses started forward, and trap and all disappeared +down one of the dark openings. + +I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. Of +bell or knocker there was no sign. Through these frowning walls and +dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate. +The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding +upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of +people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked? +Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent +out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? +Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor, for just +before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful, +and I am now a full-blown solicitor! I began to rub my eyes and pinch +myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible +nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find +myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I +had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my +flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be +deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could +do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of morning. + +Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step approaching +behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the gleam of a +coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling chains and the +clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was turned with the loud +grating noise of long disuse, and the great door swung back. + +Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white +moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck +of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique silver +lamp, in which the flame burned without a chimney or globe of any +kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught +of the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right hand with +a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange +intonation. + +"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!" He +made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as +though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The instant, +however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively +forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which +made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it +seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead than a living man. +Again he said, + +"Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave something +of the happiness you bring!" The strength of the handshake was so +much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had +not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person +to whom I was speaking. So to make sure, I said interrogatively, +"Count Dracula?" + +He bowed in a courtly way as he replied, "I am Dracula, and I bid you +welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in, the night air is chill, +and you must need to eat and rest." As he was speaking, he put the lamp +on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, took my luggage. He had +carried it in before I could forestall him. I protested, but he +insisted. + +"Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not +available. Let me see to your comfort myself." He insisted on carrying +my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding stair, and +along another great passage, on whose stone floor our steps rang +heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy door, and I +rejoiced to see within a well-lit room in which a table was spread for +supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs, freshly +replenished, flamed and flared. + +The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and crossing +the room, opened another door, which led into a small octagonal room +lit by a single lamp, and seemingly without a window of any sort. +Passing through this, he opened another door, and motioned me to +enter. It was a welcome sight. For here was a great bedroom well +lighted and warmed with another log fire, also added to but lately, +for the top logs were fresh, which sent a hollow roar up the wide +chimney. The Count himself left my luggage inside and withdrew, +saying, before he closed the door. + +"You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by making your +toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you are ready, come +into the other room, where you will find your supper prepared." + +The light and warmth and the Count's courteous welcome seemed to have +dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my normal +state, I discovered that I was half famished with hunger. So making a +hasty toilet, I went into the other room. + +I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side of +the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a graceful +wave of his hand to the table, and said, + +"I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will I trust, +excuse me that I do not join you, but I have dined already, and I do +not sup." + +I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had entrusted to +me. He opened it and read it gravely. Then, with a charming smile, +he handed it to me to read. One passage of it, at least, gave me a +thrill of pleasure. + +"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a +constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for +some time to come. But I am happy to say I can send a sufficient +substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a +young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very +faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into +manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you +will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all +matters." + +The count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish, and I +fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with some cheese +and a salad and a bottle of old tokay, of which I had two glasses, was +my supper. During the time I was eating it the Count asked me many +questions as to my journey, and I told him by degrees all I had +experienced. + +By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host's desire had +drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which he +offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not smoke. +I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of a very +marked physiognomy. + +His face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge of +the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed +forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely +elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the +nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. +The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was +fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth. +These protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed +astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears +were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed. The chin was broad and +strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one +of extraordinary pallor. + +Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees +in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine. But +seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were +rather coarse, broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were +hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and +cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands +touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his +breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, +do what I would, I could not conceal. + +The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back. And with a grim sort of +smile, which showed more than he had yet done his protruberant teeth, +sat himself down again on his own side of the fireplace. We were both +silent for a while, and as I looked towards the window I saw the first +dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over +everything. But as I listened, I heard as if from down below in the +valley the howling of many wolves. The Count's eyes gleamed, and he +said. + +"Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!" +Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he +added, "Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the +feelings of the hunter." Then he rose and said. + +"But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and tomorrow you +shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the +afternoon, so sleep well and dream well!" With a courteous bow, he +opened for me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered my +bedroom. + +I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt. I fear. I think strange +things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only +for the sake of those dear to me! + + +7 May.--It is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed the +last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the day, and awoke of my +own accord. When I had dressed myself I went into the room where we +had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with coffee kept hot +by the pot being placed on the hearth. There was a card on the table, +on which was written--"I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait +for me. D." I set to and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done, I +looked for a bell, so that I might let the servants know I had +finished, but I could not find one. There are certainly odd +deficiencies in the house, considering the extraordinary evidences of +wealth which are round me. The table service is of gold, and so +beautifully wrought that it must be of immense value. The curtains +and upholstery of the chairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are +of the costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must have been of +fabulous value when they were made, for they are centuries old, though +in excellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, but +they were worn and frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the +rooms is there a mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my +table, and I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before I +could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a servant +anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the howling of +wolves. Some time after I had finished my meal, I do not know whether +to call it breakfast or dinner, for it was between five and six +o'clock when I had it, I looked about for something to read, for I did +not like to go about the castle until I had asked the Count's +permission. There was absolutely nothing in the room, book, +newspaper, or even writing materials, so I opened another door in the +room and found a sort of library. The door opposite mine I tried, but +found locked. + +In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of English +books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of magazines and +newspapers. A table in the centre was littered with English magazines +and newspapers, though none of them were of very recent date. The +books were of the most varied kind, history, geography, politics, +political economy, botany, geology, law, all relating to England and +English life and customs and manners. There were even such books of +reference as the London Directory, the "Red" and "Blue" books, +Whitaker's Almanac, the Army and Navy Lists, and it somehow gladdened +my heart to see it, the Law List. + +Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and the Count +entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that I had had a +good night's rest. Then he went on. + +"I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is much +that will interest you. These companions," and he laid his hand on +some of the books, "have been good friends to me, and for some years +past, ever since I had the idea of going to London, have given me +many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I have come to know your +great England, and to know her is to love her. I long to go through +the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the midst of the +whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its change, its death, +and all that makes it what it is. But alas! As yet I only know your +tongue through books. To you, my friend, I look that I know it to +speak." + +"But, Count," I said, "You know and speak English thoroughly!" He +bowed gravely. + +"I thank you, my friend, for your all too-flattering estimate, but yet +I fear that I am but a little way on the road I would travel. True, I +know the grammar and the words, but yet I know not how to speak them." + +"Indeed," I said, "You speak excellently." + +"Not so," he answered. "Well, I know that, did I move and speak in +your London, none there are who would not know me for a stranger. That +is not enough for me. Here I am noble. I am a Boyar. The common +people know me, and I am master. But a stranger in a strange land, he +is no one. Men know him not, and to know not is to care not for. I +am content if I am like the rest, so that no man stops if he sees me, +or pauses in his speaking if he hears my words, 'Ha, ha! A stranger!' +I have been so long master that I would be master still, or at least +that none other should be master of me. You come to me not alone as +agent of my friend Peter Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my +new estate in London. You shall, I trust, rest here with me a while, +so that by our talking I may learn the English intonation. And I +would that you tell me when I make error, even of the smallest, in my +speaking. I am sorry that I had to be away so long today, but you +will, I know forgive one who has so many important affairs in hand." + +Of course I said all I could about being willing, and asked if I might +come into that room when I chose. He answered, "Yes, certainly," and +added. + +"You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors +are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. There is reason +that all things are as they are, and did you see with my eyes and know +with my knowledge, you would perhaps better understand." I said I was +sure of this, and then he went on. + +"We are in Transylvania, and Transylvania is not England. Our ways +are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things. Nay, +from what you have told me of your experiences already, you know +something of what strange things there may be." + +This led to much conversation, and as it was evident that he wanted to +talk, if only for talking's sake, I asked him many questions regarding +things that had already happened to me or come within my notice. +Sometimes he sheered off the subject, or turned the conversation by +pretending not to understand, but generally he answered all I asked +most frankly. Then as time went on, and I had got somewhat bolder, I +asked him of some of the strange things of the preceding night, as for +instance, why the coachman went to the places where he had seen the +blue flames. He then explained to me that it was commonly believed +that on a certain night of the year, last night, in fact, when all +evil spirits are supposed to have unchecked sway, a blue flame is seen +over any place where treasure has been concealed. + +"That treasure has been hidden," he went on, "in the region through +which you came last night, there can be but little doubt. For it was +the ground fought over for centuries by the Wallachian, the Saxon, and +the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil in all this region that +has not been enriched by the blood of men, patriots or invaders. In +the old days there were stirring times, when the Austrian and the +Hungarian came up in hordes, and the patriots went out to meet them, +men and women, the aged and the children too, and waited their coming +on the rocks above the passes, that they might sweep destruction on +them with their artificial avalanches. When the invader was +triumphant he found but little, for whatever there was had been +sheltered in the friendly soil." + +"But how," said I, "can it have remained so long undiscovered, when +there is a sure index to it if men will but take the trouble to look?" +The Count smiled, and as his lips ran back over his gums, the long, +sharp, canine teeth showed out strangely. He answered: + +"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those flames +only appear on one night, and on that night no man of this land will, +if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he +did he would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell +me of who marked the place of the flame would not know where to look +in daylight even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be +sworn, be able to find these places again?" + +"There you are right," I said. "I know no more than the dead where +even to look for them." Then we drifted into other matters. + +"Come," he said at last, "tell me of London and of the house which you +have procured for me." With an apology for my remissness, I went into +my own room to get the papers from my bag. Whilst I was placing them +in order I heard a rattling of china and silver in the next room, and +as I passed through, noticed that the table had been cleared and the +lamp lit, for it was by this time deep into the dark. The lamps were +also lit in the study or library, and I found the Count lying on the +sofa, reading, of all things in the world, an English Bradshaw's +Guide. When I came in he cleared the books and papers from the table, +and with him I went into plans and deeds and figures of all sorts. He +was interested in everything, and asked me a myriad questions about +the place and its surroundings. He clearly had studied beforehand all +he could get on the subject of the neighbourhood, for he evidently at +the end knew very much more than I did. When I remarked this, he +answered. + +"Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should? When I go +there I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan, nay, pardon +me. I fall into my country's habit of putting your patronymic first, +my friend Jonathan Harker will not be by my side to correct and aid +me. He will be in Exeter, miles away, probably working at papers of +the law with my other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!" + +We went thoroughly into the business of the purchase of the estate at +Purfleet. When I had told him the facts and got his signature to the +necessary papers, and had written a letter with them ready to post to +Mr. Hawkins, he began to ask me how I had come across so suitable a +place. I read to him the notes which I had made at the time, and +which I inscribe here. + +"At Purfleet, on a byroad, I came across just such a place as seemed +to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice that the +place was for sale. It was surrounded by a high wall, of ancient +structure, built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired for a +large number of years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and +iron, all eaten with rust. + +"The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old Quatre +Face, as the house is four sided, agreeing with the cardinal points of +the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite surrounded +by the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many trees on it, +which make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond +or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is clear +and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is very large and of +all periods back, I should say, to mediaeval times, for one part is of +stone immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and heavily +barred with iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an +old chapel or church. I could not enter it, as I had not the key of +the door leading to it from the house, but I have taken with my Kodak +views of it from various points. The house had been added to, but in +a very straggling way, and I can only guess at the amount of ground it +covers, which must be very great. There are but few houses close at +hand, one being a very large house only recently added to and formed +into a private lunatic asylum. It is not, however, visible from the +grounds." + +When I had finished, he said, "I am glad that it is old and big. I +myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would kill me. +A house cannot be made habitable in a day, and after all, how few days +go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a chapel of old +times. We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may +lie amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the +bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling waters which +please the young and gay. I am no longer young, and my heart, through +weary years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, +the walls of my castle are broken. The shadows are many, and the wind +breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love +the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I +may." Somehow his words and his look did not seem to accord, or else +it was that his cast of face made his smile look malignant and +saturnine. + +Presently, with an excuse, he left me, asking me to pull my papers +together. He was some little time away, and I began to look at some +of the books around me. One was an atlas, which I found opened +naturally to England, as if that map had been much used. On looking +at it I found in certain places little rings marked, and on examining +these I noticed that one was near London on the east side, manifestly +where his new estate was situated. The other two were Exeter, and +Whitby on the Yorkshire coast. + +It was the better part of an hour when the Count returned. "Aha!" he +said. "Still at your books? Good! But you must not work always. +Come! I am informed that your supper is ready." He took my arm, and +we went into the next room, where I found an excellent supper ready on +the table. The Count again excused himself, as he had dined out on +his being away from home. But he sat as on the previous night, and +chatted whilst I ate. After supper I smoked, as on the last evening, +and the Count stayed with me, chatting and asking questions on every +conceivable subject, hour after hour. I felt that it was getting very +late indeed, but I did not say anything, for I felt under obligation +to meet my host's wishes in every way. I was not sleepy, as the long +sleep yesterday had fortified me, but I could not help experiencing +that chill which comes over one at the coming of the dawn, which is +like, in its way, the turn of the tide. They say that people who are +near death die generally at the change to dawn or at the turn of the +tide. Anyone who has when tired, and tied as it were to his post, +experienced this change in the atmosphere can well believe it. All at +once we heard the crow of the cock coming up with preternatural +shrillness through the clear morning air. + +Count Dracula, jumping to his feet, said, "Why there is the morning +again! How remiss I am to let you stay up so long. You must make +your conversation regarding my dear new country of England less +interesting, so that I may not forget how time flies by us," and with +a courtly bow, he quickly left me. + +I went into my room and drew the curtains, but there was little to +notice. My window opened into the courtyard, all I could see was the +warm grey of quickening sky. So I pulled the curtains again, and have +written of this day. + + +8 May.--I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too +diffuse. But now I am glad that I went into detail from the first, +for there is something so strange about this place and all in it that +I cannot but feel uneasy. I wish I were safe out of it, or that I had +never come. It may be that this strange night existence is telling on +me, but would that that were all! If there were any one to talk to I +could bear it, but there is no one. I have only the Count to speak +with, and he--I fear I am myself the only living soul within the +place. Let me be prosaic so far as facts can be. It will help me to +bear up, and imagination must not run riot with me. If it does I am +lost. Let me say at once how I stand, or seem to. + +I only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that I could +not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my shaving glass by the +window, and was just beginning to shave. Suddenly I felt a hand on my +shoulder, and heard the Count's voice saying to me, "Good morning." I +started, for it amazed me that I had not seen him, since the +reflection of the glass covered the whole room behind me. In starting +I had cut myself slightly, but did not notice it at the moment. Having +answered the Count's salutation, I turned to the glass again to see +how I had been mistaken. This time there could be no error, for the +man was close to me, and I could see him over my shoulder. But there +was no reflection of him in the mirror! The whole room behind me was +displayed, but there was no sign of a man in it, except myself. + +This was startling, and coming on the top of so many strange things, +was beginning to increase that vague feeling of uneasiness which I +always have when the Count is near. But at the instant I saw that the +cut had bled a little, and the blood was trickling over my chin. I +laid down the razor, turning as I did so half round to look for some +sticking plaster. When the Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with a +sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I +drew away and his hand touched the string of beads which held the +crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so +quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there. + +"Take care," he said, "take care how you cut yourself. It is more +dangerous that you think in this country." Then seizing the shaving +glass, he went on, "And this is the wretched thing that has done the +mischief. It is a foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with it!" And +opening the window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung out +the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces on the stones of +the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew without a word. It is very +annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case +or the bottom of the shaving pot, which is fortunately of metal. + +When I went into the dining room, breakfast was prepared, but I could +not find the Count anywhere. So I breakfasted alone. It is strange +that as yet I have not seen the Count eat or drink. He must be a very +peculiar man! After breakfast I did a little exploring in the +castle. I went out on the stairs, and found a room looking towards +the South. + +The view was magnificent, and from where I stood there was every +opportunity of seeing it. The castle is on the very edge of a +terrific precipice. A stone falling from the window would fall a +thousand feet without touching anything! As far as the eye can reach +is a sea of green tree tops, with occasionally a deep rift where there +is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind +in deep gorges through the forests. + +But I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen the view +I explored further. Doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all locked +and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle walls is +there an available exit. The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a +prisoner! + + + + +CHAPTER 3 + + +Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued + +When I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over +me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering +out of every window I could find, but after a little the conviction of +my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look back +after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I +behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction +had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly, as quietly as I +have ever done anything in my life, and began to think over what was +best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no +definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain. That it is no +use making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am +imprisoned, and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his own +motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with +the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my +knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I am, I know, +either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I am in +desperate straits, and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, +all my brains to get through. + +I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door below +shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He did not come at once +into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and found him +making the bed. This was odd, but only confirmed what I had all along +thought, that there are no servants in the house. When later I saw +him through the chink of the hinges of the door laying the table in +the dining room, I was assured of it. For if he does himself all +these menial offices, surely it is proof that there is no one else in +the castle, it must have been the Count himself who was the driver of +the coach that brought me here. This is a terrible thought, for if +so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by +only holding up his hand for silence? How was it that all the people +at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What +meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of +the mountain ash? + +Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! For +it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd +that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as +idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is +it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that +it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and +comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try +to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I +can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to understand. Tonight he +may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be +very careful, however, not to awake his suspicion. + + +Midnight.--I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a few +questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the subject +wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and especially of +battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them all. This he +afterwards explained by saying that to a Boyar the pride of his house +and name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory, that their +fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of his house he always said "we", +and spoke almost in the plural, like a king speaking. I wish I could +put down all he said exactly as he said it, for to me it was most +fascinating. It seemed to have in it a whole history of the country. +He grew excited as he spoke, and walked about the room pulling his +great white moustache and grasping anything on which he laid his hands +as though he would crush it by main strength. One thing he said which +I shall put down as nearly as I can, for it tells in its way the story +of his race. + +"We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows the +blood of many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for lordship. +Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe bore down +from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin gave them, which +their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent on the seaboards of +Europe, aye, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought that +the werewolves themselves had come. Here, too, when they came, they +found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept the earth like a living +flame, till the dying peoples held that in their veins ran the blood +of those old witches, who, expelled from Scythia had mated with the +devils in the desert. Fools, fools! What devil or what witch was +ever so great as Attila, whose blood is in these veins?" He held up +his arms. "Is it a wonder that we were a conquering race, that we +were proud, that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the Avar, the Bulgar, +or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers, we drove them back? +Is it strange that when Arpad and his legions swept through the +Hungarian fatherland he found us here when he reached the frontier, +that the Honfoglalas was completed there? And when the Hungarian +flood swept eastward, the Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the +victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the guarding +of the frontier of Turkeyland. Aye, and more than that, endless duty +of the frontier guard, for as the Turks say, 'water sleeps, and the +enemy is sleepless.' Who more gladly than we throughout the Four +Nations received the 'bloody sword,' or at its warlike call flocked +quicker to the standard of the King? When was redeemed that great +shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the +Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent? Who was it but +one of my own race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and beat the Turk +on his own ground? This was a Dracula indeed! Woe was it that his +own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk +and brought the shame of slavery on them! Was it not this Dracula, +indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age again +and again brought his forces over the great river into Turkeyland, +who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again, though he had to +come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being +slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph! +They said that he thought only of himself. Bah! What good are +peasants without a leader? Where ends the war without a brain and +heart to conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of Mohacs, we +threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were amongst +their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we were not free. +Ah, young sir, the Szekelys, and the Dracula as their heart's blood, +their brains, and their swords, can boast a record that mushroom +growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never reach. The +warlike days are over. Blood is too precious a thing in these days of +dishonourable peace, and the glories of the great races are as a tale +that is told." + +It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (Mem., this +diary seems horribly like the beginning of the "Arabian Nights," for +everything has to break off at cockcrow, or like the ghost of Hamlet's +father.) + + +12 May.--Let me begin with facts, bare, meager facts, verified by +books and figures, and of which there can be no doubt. I must not +confuse them with experiences which will have to rest on my own +observation, or my memory of them. Last evening when the Count came +from his room he began by asking me questions on legal matters and on +the doing of certain kinds of business. I had spent the day wearily +over books, and, simply to keep my mind occupied, went over some of +the matters I had been examined in at Lincoln's Inn. There was a +certain method in the Count's inquiries, so I shall try to put them +down in sequence. The knowledge may somehow or some time be useful to +me. + +First, he asked if a man in England might have two solicitors or more. +I told him he might have a dozen if he wished, but that it would not +be wise to have more than one solicitor engaged in one transaction, as +only one could act at a time, and that to change would be certain to +militate against his interest. He seemed thoroughly to understand, +and went on to ask if there would be any practical difficulty in having +one man to attend, say, to banking, and another to look after +shipping, in case local help were needed in a place far from the home +of the banking solicitor. I asked to explain more fully, so that I +might not by any chance mislead him, so he said, + +"I shall illustrate. Your friend and mine, Mr. Peter Hawkins, from +under the shadow of your beautiful cathedral at Exeter, which is far +from London, buys for me through your good self my place at London. +Good! Now here let me say frankly, lest you should think it strange +that I have sought the services of one so far off from London instead +of some one resident there, that my motive was that no local interest +might be served save my wish only, and as one of London residence +might, perhaps, have some purpose of himself or friend to serve, I +went thus afield to seek my agent, whose labours should be only to my +interest. Now, suppose I, who have much of affairs, wish to ship +goods, say, to Newcastle, or Durham, or Harwich, or Dover, might it +not be that it could with more ease be done by consigning to one in +these ports?" + +I answered that certainly it would be most easy, but that we +solicitors had a system of agency one for the other, so that local +work could be done locally on instruction from any solicitor, so that +the client, simply placing himself in the hands of one man, could have +his wishes carried out by him without further trouble. + +"But," said he, "I could be at liberty to direct myself. Is it not +so?" + +"Of course," I replied, and "Such is often done by men of business, +who do not like the whole of their affairs to be known by any one +person." + +"Good!" he said, and then went on to ask about the means of making +consignments and the forms to be gone through, and of all sorts of +difficulties which might arise, but by forethought could be guarded +against. I explained all these things to him to the best of my +ability, and he certainly left me under the impression that he would +have made a wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing that he did not +think of or foresee. For a man who was never in the country, and who +did not evidently do much in the way of business, his knowledge and +acumen were wonderful. When he had satisfied himself on these points +of which he had spoken, and I had verified all as well as I could by +the books available, he suddenly stood up and said, "Have you written +since your first letter to our friend Mr. Peter Hawkins, or to any +other?" + +It was with some bitterness in my heart that I answered that I had +not, that as yet I had not seen any opportunity of sending letters to +anybody. + +"Then write now, my young friend," he said, laying a heavy hand on my +shoulder, "write to our friend and to any other, and say, if it will +please you, that you shall stay with me until a month from now." + +"Do you wish me to stay so long?" I asked, for my heart grew cold at +the thought. + +"I desire it much, nay I will take no refusal. When your master, +employer, what you will, engaged that someone should come on his +behalf, it was understood that my needs only were to be consulted. I +have not stinted. Is it not so?" + +What could I do but bow acceptance? It was Mr. Hawkins' interest, not +mine, and I had to think of him, not myself, and besides, while Count +Dracula was speaking, there was that in his eyes and in his bearing +which made me remember that I was a prisoner, and that if I wished it +I could have no choice. The Count saw his victory in my bow, and his +mastery in the trouble of my face, for he began at once to use them, +but in his own smooth, resistless way. + +"I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not discourse of +things other than business in your letters. It will doubtless please +your friends to know that you are well, and that you look forward to +getting home to them. Is it not so?" As he spoke he handed me three +sheets of note paper and three envelopes. They were all of the +thinnest foreign post, and looking at them, then at him, and noticing +his quiet smile, with the sharp, canine teeth lying over the red +underlip, I understood as well as if he had spoken that I should be +more careful what I wrote, for he would be able to read it. So I +determined to write only formal notes now, but to write fully to Mr. +Hawkins in secret, and also to Mina, for to her I could write +shorthand, which would puzzle the Count, if he did see it. When I had +written my two letters I sat quiet, reading a book whilst the Count +wrote several notes, referring as he wrote them to some books on his +table. Then he took up my two and placed them with his own, and put +by his writing materials, after which, the instant the door had closed +behind him, I leaned over and looked at the letters, which were face +down on the table. I felt no compunction in doing so for under the +circumstances I felt that I should protect myself in every way I +could. + +One of the letters was directed to Samuel F. Billington, No. 7, The +Crescent, Whitby, another to Herr Leutner, Varna. The third was to +Coutts & Co., London, and the fourth to Herren Klopstock & Billreuth, +bankers, Buda Pesth. The second and fourth were unsealed. I was just +about to look at them when I saw the door handle move. I sank back in +my seat, having just had time to resume my book before the Count, +holding still another letter in his hand, entered the room. He took +up the letters on the table and stamped them carefully, and then +turning to me, said, + +"I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in private +this evening. You will, I hope, find all things as you wish." At the +door he turned, and after a moment's pause said, "Let me advise you, +my dear young friend. Nay, let me warn you with all seriousness, that +should you leave these rooms you will not by any chance go to sleep in +any other part of the castle. It is old, and has many memories, and +there are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely. Be warned! Should +sleep now or ever overcome you, or be like to do, then haste to your +own chamber or to these rooms, for your rest will then be safe. But +if you be not careful in this respect, then," He finished his speech +in a gruesome way, for he motioned with his hands as if he were washing +them. I quite understood. My only doubt was as to whether any dream +could be more terrible than the unnatural, horrible net of gloom and +mystery which seemed closing around me. + + +Later.--I endorse the last words written, but this time there is no +doubt in question. I shall not fear to sleep in any place where he is +not. I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed, I imagine +that my rest is thus freer from dreams, and there it shall remain. + +When he left me I went to my room. After a little while, not hearing +any sound, I came out and went up the stone stair to where I could +look out towards the South. There was some sense of freedom in the +vast expanse, inaccessible though it was to me, as compared with the +narrow darkness of the courtyard. Looking out on this, I felt that I +was indeed in prison, and I seemed to want a breath of fresh air, +though it were of the night. I am beginning to feel this nocturnal +existence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve. I start at my own +shadow, and am full of all sorts of horrible imaginings. God knows +that there is ground for my terrible fear in this accursed place! I +looked out over the beautiful expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight +till it was almost as light as day. In the soft light the distant +hills became melted, and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of +velvety blackness. The mere beauty seemed to cheer me. There was +peace and comfort in every breath I drew. As I leaned from the window +my eye was caught by something moving a storey below me, and somewhat +to my left, where I imagined, from the order of the rooms, that the +windows of the Count's own room would look out. The window at which I +stood was tall and deep, stone-mullioned, and though weatherworn, was +still complete. But it was evidently many a day since the case had +been there. I drew back behind the stonework, and looked carefully +out. + +What I saw was the Count's head coming out from the window. I did not +see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the movement of his +back and arms. In any case I could not mistake the hands which I had +had some many opportunities of studying. I was at first interested +and somewhat amused, for it is wonderful how small a matter will +interest and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But my very feelings +changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the whole man slowly emerge +from the window and begin to crawl down the castle wall over the +dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak spreading out around him like +great wings. At first I could not believe my eyes. I thought it was +some trick of the moonlight, some weird effect of shadow, but I kept +looking, and it could be no delusion. I saw the fingers and toes +grasp the corners of the stones, worn clear of the mortar by the +stress of years, and by thus using every projection and inequality +move downwards with considerable speed, just as a lizard moves along a +wall. + +What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature, is it in the +semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible place +overpowering me. I am in fear, in awful fear, and there is no escape +for me. I am encompassed about with terrors that I dare not think of. + + +15 May.--Once more I have seen the count go out in his lizard fashion. +He moved downwards in a sidelong way, some hundred feet down, and a +good deal to the left. He vanished into some hole or window. When +his head had disappeared, I leaned out to try and see more, but +without avail. The distance was too great to allow a proper angle of +sight. I knew he had left the castle now, and thought to use the +opportunity to explore more than I had dared to do as yet. I went +back to the room, and taking a lamp, tried all the doors. They were +all locked, as I had expected, and the locks were comparatively new. +But I went down the stone stairs to the hall where I had entered +originally. I found I could pull back the bolts easily enough and +unhook the great chains. But the door was locked, and the key was +gone! That key must be in the Count's room. I must watch should his +door be unlocked, so that I may get it and escape. I went on to make +a thorough examination of the various stairs and passages, and to try +the doors that opened from them. One or two small rooms near the hall +were open, but there was nothing to see in them except old furniture, +dusty with age and moth-eaten. At last, however, I found one door at +the top of the stairway which, though it seemed locked, gave a little +under pressure. I tried it harder, and found that it was not really +locked, but that the resistance came from the fact that the hinges had +fallen somewhat, and the heavy door rested on the floor. Here was an +opportunity which I might not have again, so I exerted myself, and +with many efforts forced it back so that I could enter. I was now in +a wing of the castle further to the right than the rooms I knew and a +storey lower down. From the windows I could see that the suite of +rooms lay along to the south of the castle, the windows of the end +room looking out both west and south. On the latter side, as well as +to the former, there was a great precipice. The castle was built on +the corner of a great rock, so that on three sides it was quite +impregnable, and great windows were placed here where sling, or bow, +or culverin could not reach, and consequently light and comfort, +impossible to a position which had to be guarded, were secured. To +the west was a great valley, and then, rising far away, great jagged +mountain fastnesses, rising peak on peak, the sheer rock studded with +mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in cracks and crevices and +crannies of the stone. This was evidently the portion of the castle +occupied by the ladies in bygone days, for the furniture had more an +air of comfort than any I had seen. + +The windows were curtainless, and the yellow moonlight, flooding in +through the diamond panes, enabled one to see even colours, whilst it +softened the wealth of dust which lay over all and disguised in some +measure the ravages of time and moth. My lamp seemed to be of little +effect in the brilliant moonlight, but I was glad to have it with me, +for there was a dread loneliness in the place which chilled my heart +and made my nerves tremble. Still, it was better than living alone in +the rooms which I had come to hate from the presence of the Count, and +after trying a little to school my nerves, I found a soft quietude +come over me. Here I am, sitting at a little oak table where in old +times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought and many +blushes, her ill-spelt love letter, and writing in my diary in +shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is the +nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, unless my +senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their +own which mere "modernity" cannot kill. + + +Later: The morning of 16 May.--God preserve my sanity, for to this I +am reduced. Safety and the assurance of safety are things of the +past. Whilst I live on here there is but one thing to hope for, that +I may not go mad, if, indeed, I be not mad already. If I be sane, +then surely it is maddening to think that of all the foul things that +lurk in this hateful place the Count is the least dreadful to me, that +to him alone I can look for safety, even though this be only whilst I +can serve his purpose. Great God! Merciful God, let me be calm, for +out of that way lies madness indeed. I begin to get new lights on +certain things which have puzzled me. Up to now I never quite knew +what Shakespeare meant when he made Hamlet say, "My tablets! Quick, +my tablets! 'tis meet that I put it down," etc., For now, feeling as +though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which +must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of +entering accurately must help to soothe me. + +The Count's mysterious warning frightened me at the time. It frightens +me more not when I think of it, for in the future he has a fearful +hold upon me. I shall fear to doubt what he may say! + +When I had written in my diary and had fortunately replaced the book +and pen in my pocket I felt sleepy. The Count's warning came into my +mind, but I took pleasure in disobeying it. The sense of sleep was +upon me, and with it the obstinacy which sleep brings as outrider. The +soft moonlight soothed, and the wide expanse without gave a sense of +freedom which refreshed me. I determined not to return tonight to the +gloom-haunted rooms, but to sleep here, where, of old, ladies had sat +and sung and lived sweet lives whilst their gentle breasts were sad +for their menfolk away in the midst of remorseless wars. I drew a +great couch out of its place near the corner, so that as I lay, I +could look at the lovely view to east and south, and unthinking of and +uncaring for the dust, composed myself for sleep. I suppose I must +have fallen asleep. I hope so, but I fear, for all that followed was +startlingly real, so real that now sitting here in the broad, full +sunlight of the morning, I cannot in the least believe that it was all +sleep. + +I was not alone. The room was the same, unchanged in any way since I +came into it. I could see along the floor, in the brilliant +moonlight, my own footsteps marked where I had disturbed the long +accumulation of dust. In the moonlight opposite me were three young +women, ladies by their dress and manner. I thought at the time that I +must be dreaming when I saw them, they threw no shadow on the floor. +They came close to me, and looked at me for some time, and then +whispered together. Two were dark, and had high aquiline noses, like +the Count, and great dark, piercing eyes, that seemed to be almost red +when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other was fair, as +fair as can be, with great masses of golden hair and eyes like pale +sapphires. I seemed somehow to know her face, and to know it in +connection with some dreamy fear, but I could not recollect at the +moment how or where. All three had brilliant white teeth that shone +like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was +something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same +time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire +that they would kiss me with those red lips. It is not good to note +this down, lest some day it should meet Mina's eyes and cause her +pain, but it is the truth. They whispered together, and then they all +three laughed, such a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though +the sound never could have come through the softness of human lips. +It was like the intolerable, tingling sweetness of waterglasses when +played on by a cunning hand. The fair girl shook her head +coquettishly, and the other two urged her on. + +One said, "Go on! You are first, and we shall follow. Yours is the +right to begin." + +The other added, "He is young and strong. There are kisses for us +all." + +I lay quiet, looking out from under my eyelashes in an agony of +delightful anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent over me till +I could feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was in one +sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the nerves as +her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter +offensiveness, as one smells in blood. + +I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly +under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, +simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both +thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually +licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in the moonlight the +moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it +lapped the white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the +lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed to fasten on +my throat. Then she paused, and I could hear the churning sound of +her tongue as it licked her teeth and lips, and I could feel the hot +breath on my neck. Then the skin of my throat began to tingle as +one's flesh does when the hand that is to tickle it approaches nearer, +nearer. I could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the +super sensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp +teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed my eyes in +languorous ecstasy and waited, waited with beating heart. + +But at that instant, another sensation swept through me as quick as +lightning. I was conscious of the presence of the Count, and of his +being as if lapped in a storm of fury. As my eyes opened +involuntarily I saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the fair +woman and with giant's power draw it back, the blue eyes transformed +with fury, the white teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks +blazing red with passion. But the Count! Never did I imagine such +wrath and fury, even to the demons of the pit. His eyes were +positively blazing. The red light in them was lurid, as if the flames +of hell fire blazed behind them. His face was deathly pale, and the +lines of it were hard like drawn wires. The thick eyebrows that met +over the nose now seemed like a heaving bar of white-hot metal. With +a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurled the woman from him, and then +motioned to the others, as though he were beating them back. It was +the same imperious gesture that I had seen used to the wolves. In a +voice which, though low and almost in a whisper seemed to cut through +the air and then ring in the room he said, + +"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him +when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to +me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me." + +The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him. +"You yourself never loved. You never love!" On this the other women +joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the +room that it almost made me faint to hear. It seemed like the +pleasure of fiends. + +Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and said +in a soft whisper, "Yes, I too can love. You yourselves can tell it +from the past. Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am +done with him you shall kiss him at your will. Now go! Go! I must +awaken him, for there is work to be done." + +"Are we to have nothing tonight?" said one of them, with a low laugh, +as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the floor, and +which moved as though there were some living thing within it. For +answer he nodded his head. One of the women jumped forward and opened +it. If my ears did not deceive me there was a gasp and a low wail, as +of a half smothered child. The women closed round, whilst I was +aghast with horror. But as I looked, they disappeared, and with them +the dreadful bag. There was no door near them, and they could not +have passed me without my noticing. They simply seemed to fade into +the rays of the moonlight and pass out through the window, for I could +see outside the dim, shadowy forms for a moment before they entirely +faded away. + +Then the horror overcame me, and I sank down unconscious. + + + + +CHAPTER 4 + + +Jonathan Harker's Journal Continued + +I awoke in my own bed. If it be that I had not dreamt, the Count must +have carried me here. I tried to satisfy myself on the subject, but +could not arrive at any unquestionable result. To be sure, there were +certain small evidences, such as that my clothes were folded and laid +by in a manner which was not my habit. My watch was still unwound, +and I am rigorously accustomed to wind it the last thing before going +to bed, and many such details. But these things are no proof, for +they may have been evidences that my mind was not as usual, and, for +some cause or another, I had certainly been much upset. I must watch +for proof. Of one thing I am glad. If it was that the Count carried +me here and undressed me, he must have been hurried in his task, for +my pockets are intact. I am sure this diary would have been a mystery +to him which he would not have brooked. He would have taken or +destroyed it. As I look round this room, although it has been to me +so full of fear, it is now a sort of sanctuary, for nothing can be +more dreadful than those awful women, who were, who are, waiting to +suck my blood. + + +18 May.--I have been down to look at that room again in daylight, for +I must know the truth. When I got to the doorway at the top of the +stairs I found it closed. It had been so forcibly driven against the +jamb that part of the woodwork was splintered. I could see that the +bolt of the lock had not been shot, but the door is fastened from the +inside. I fear it was no dream, and must act on this surmise. + + +19 May.--I am surely in the toils. Last night the Count asked me in +the suavest tones to write three letters, one saying that my work here +was nearly done, and that I should start for home within a few days, +another that I was starting on the next morning from the time of the +letter, and the third that I had left the castle and arrived at +Bistritz. I would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present +state of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count +whilst I am so absolutely in his power. And to refuse would be to +excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know +too much, and that I must not live, lest I be dangerous to him. My +only chance is to prolong my opportunities. Something may occur which +will give me a chance to escape. I saw in his eyes something of that +gathering wrath which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from +him. He explained to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that +my writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friends. And he +assured me with so much impressiveness that he would countermand the +later letters, which would be held over at Bistritz until due time in +case chance would admit of my prolonging my stay, that to oppose him +would have been to create new suspicion. I therefore pretended to +fall in with his views, and asked him what dates I should put on the +letters. + +He calculated a minute, and then said, "The first should be June 12, +the second June 19, and the third June 29." + +I know now the span of my life. God help me! + + +28 May.--There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of being able to +send word home. A band of Szgany have come to the castle, and are +encamped in the courtyard. These are gipsies. I have notes of them +in my book. They are peculiar to this part of the world, though +allied to the ordinary gipsies all the world over. There are +thousands of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside +all law. They attach themselves as a rule to some great noble or +boyar, and call themselves by his name. They are fearless and without +religion, save superstition, and they talk only their own varieties of +the Romany tongue. + +I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to have +them posted. I have already spoken to them through my window to begin +acquaintanceship. They took their hats off and made obeisance and +many signs, which however, I could not understand any more than I +could their spoken language . . . + +I have written the letters. Mina's is in shorthand, and I simply ask +Mr. Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I have explained my +situation, but without the horrors which I may only surmise. It would +shock and frighten her to death were I to expose my heart to her. +Should the letters not carry, then the Count shall not yet know my +secret or the extent of my knowledge. . . . + + +I have given the letters. I threw them through the bars of my window +with a gold piece, and made what signs I could to have them posted. +The man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then +put them in his cap. I could do no more. I stole back to the study, +and began to read. As the Count did not come in, I have written +here . . . + + +The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest +voice as he opened two letters, "The Szgany has given me these, of +which, though I know not whence they come, I shall, of course, take +care. See!"--He must have looked at it.--"One is from you, and to my +friend Peter Hawkins. The other,"--here he caught sight of the +strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and the dark look came into +his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly,--"The other is a vile thing, +an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is not signed. Well! +So it cannot matter to us." And he calmly held letter and envelope in +the flame of the lamp till they were consumed. + +Then he went on, "The letter to Hawkins, that I shall, of course send +on, since it is yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, +my friend, that unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover +it again?" He held out the letter to me, and with a courteous bow +handed me a clean envelope. + +I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence. When he went +out of the room I could hear the key turn softly. A minute later I +went over and tried it, and the door was locked. + +When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the room, his +coming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa. He was very +courteous and very cheery in his manner, and seeing that I had been +sleeping, he said, "So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed. There +is the surest rest. I may not have the pleasure of talk tonight, +since there are many labours to me, but you will sleep, I pray." + +I passed to my room and went to bed, and, strange to say, slept +without dreaming. Despair has its own calms. + +31 May.--This morning when I woke I thought I would provide myself +with some papers and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my pocket, +so that I might write in case I should get an opportunity, but again a +surprise, again a shock! + +Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my memoranda, +relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in fact all that +might be useful to me were I once outside the castle. I sat and +pondered awhile, and then some thought occurred to me, and I made +search of my portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my +clothes. + +The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and +rug. I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some +new scheme of villainy . . . + + +17 June.--This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bed +cudgelling my brains, I heard without a crackling of whips and +pounding and scraping of horses' feet up the rocky path beyond the +courtyard. With joy I hurried to the window, and saw drive into the +yard two great leiter-wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and +at the head of each pair a Slovak, with his wide hat, great +nail-studded belt, dirty sheepskin, and high boots. They had also +their long staves in hand. I ran to the door, intending to descend +and try and join them through the main hall, as I thought that way +might be opened for them. Again a shock, my door was fastened on the +outside. + +Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked up at me +stupidly and pointed, but just then the "hetman" of the Szgany came +out, and seeing them pointing to my window, said something, at which +they laughed. + +Henceforth no effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonized entreaty, +would make them even look at me. They resolutely turned away. The +leiter-wagons contained great, square boxes, with handles of thick +rope. These were evidently empty by the ease with which the Slovaks +handled them, and by their resonance as they were roughly moved. + +When they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one corner +of the yard, the Slovaks were given some money by the Szgany, and +spitting on it for luck, lazily went each to his horse's head. +Shortly afterwards, I heard the crackling of their whips die away in +the distance. + + +24 June.--Last night the Count left me early, and locked himself into +his own room. As soon as I dared I ran up the winding stair, and +looked out of the window, which opened South. I thought I would watch +for the Count, for there is something going on. The Szgany are +quartered somewhere in the castle and are doing work of some kind. I +know it, for now and then, I hear a far-away muffled sound as of +mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of some +ruthless villainy. + +I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I saw +something coming out of the Count's window. I drew back and watched +carefully, and saw the whole man emerge. It was a new shock to me to +find that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn whilst +travelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I +had seen the women take away. There could be no doubt as to his +quest, and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil, +that he will allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may +both leave evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages +posting my own letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall +by the local people be attributed to me. + +It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up +here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law +which is even a criminal's right and consolation. + +I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long time +sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were +some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They +were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and +gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a +sense of soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in +the embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy +more fully the aerial gambolling. + +Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere +far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it +seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating moats of dust to take new +shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself +struggling to awake to some call of my instincts. Nay, my very soul +was struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to +answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised! + +Quicker and quicker danced the dust. The moonbeams seemed to quiver +as they went by me into the mass of gloom beyond. More and more they +gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom shapes. And then I +started, broad awake and in full possession of my senses, and ran +screaming from the place. + +The phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually materialised from +the moonbeams, were those three ghostly women to whom I was doomed. + +I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where there was no +moonlight, and where the lamp was burning brightly. + +When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in the +Count's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed. And +then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. With a +beating heart, I tried the door, but I was locked in my prison, and +could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried. + +As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without, the agonised cry of +a woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered between +the bars. + +There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, holding her hands +over her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaning +against the corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at the window +she threw herself forward, and shouted in a voice laden with menace, +"Monster, give me my child!" + +She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried the +same words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair and +beat her breast, and abandoned herself to all the violences of +extravagant emotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and though I +could not see her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against +the door. + +Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of +the Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to +be answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many +minutes had passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when +liberated, through the wide entrance into the courtyard. + +There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was but +short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips. + +I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child, and +she was better dead. + +What shall I do? What can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful +thing of night, gloom, and fear? + + +25 June.--No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet +and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the sun grew +so high this morning that it struck the top of the great gateway +opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me as if +the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as if +it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth. + +I must take action of some sort whilst the courage of the day is upon +me. Last night one of my post-dated letters went to post, the first +of that fatal series which is to blot out the very traces of my +existence from the earth. + +Let me not think of it. Action! + +It has always been at night-time that I have been molested or +threatened, or in some way in danger or in fear. I have not yet seen +the Count in the daylight. Can it be that he sleeps when others wake, +that he may be awake whilst they sleep? If I could only get into his +room! But there is no possible way. The door is always locked, no +way for me. + +Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body has gone +why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from his +window. Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window? The +chances are desperate, but my need is more desperate still. I shall +risk it. At the worst it can only be death, and a man's death is not +a calf's, and the dreaded Hereafter may still be open to me. God help +me in my task! Goodbye, Mina, if I fail. Goodbye, my faithful friend +and second father. Goodbye, all, and last of all Mina! + + +Same day, later.--I have made the effort, and God helping me, have +come safely back to this room. I must put down every detail in order. +I went whilst my courage was fresh straight to the window on the south +side, and at once got outside on this side. The stones are big and +roughly cut, and the mortar has by process of time been washed away +between them. I took off my boots, and ventured out on the desperate +way. I looked down once, so as to make sure that a sudden glimpse of +the awful depth would not overcome me, but after that kept my eyes +away from it. I know pretty well the direction and distance of the +Count's window, and made for it as well as I could, having regard to +the opportunities available. I did not feel dizzy, I suppose I was +too excited, and the time seemed ridiculously short till I found +myself standing on the window sill and trying to raise up the sash. I +was filled with agitation, however, when I bent down and slid feet +foremost in through the window. Then I looked around for the Count, +but with surprise and gladness, made a discovery. The room was +empty! It was barely furnished with odd things, which seemed to have +never been used. + +The furniture was something the same style as that in the south rooms, +and was covered with dust. I looked for the key, but it was not in +the lock, and I could not find it anywhere. The only thing I found +was a great heap of gold in one corner, gold of all kinds, Roman, and +British, and Austrian, and Hungarian, and Greek and Turkish money, +covered with a film of dust, as though it had lain long in the ground. +None of it that I noticed was less than three hundred years old. +There were also chains and ornaments, some jewelled, but all of them +old and stained. + +At one corner of the room was a heavy door. I tried it, for, since I +could not find the key of the room or the key of the outer door, which +was the main object of my search, I must make further examination, or +all my efforts would be in vain. It was open, and led through a stone +passage to a circular stairway, which went steeply down. + +I descended, minding carefully where I went for the stairs were dark, +being only lit by loopholes in the heavy masonry. At the bottom there +was a dark, tunnel-like passage, through which came a deathly, sickly +odour, the odour of old earth newly turned. As I went through the +passage the smell grew closer and heavier. At last I pulled open a +heavy door which stood ajar, and found myself in an old ruined chapel, +which had evidently been used as a graveyard. The roof was broken, +and in two places were steps leading to vaults, but the ground had +recently been dug over, and the earth placed in great wooden boxes, +manifestly those which had been brought by the Slovaks. + +There was nobody about, and I made a search over every inch of the +ground, so as not to lose a chance. I went down even into the vaults, +where the dim light struggled, although to do so was a dread to my +very soul. Into two of these I went, but saw nothing except fragments +of old coffins and piles of dust. In the third, however, I made a +discovery. + +There, in one of the great boxes, of which there were fifty in all, on +a pile of newly dug earth, lay the Count! He was either dead or +asleep. I could not say which, for eyes were open and stony, but +without the glassiness of death, and the cheeks had the warmth of life +through all their pallor. The lips were as red as ever. But there +was no sign of movement, no pulse, no breath, no beating of the heart. + +I bent over him, and tried to find any sign of life, but in vain. He +could not have lain there long, for the earthy smell would have passed +away in a few hours. By the side of the box was its cover, pierced +with holes here and there. I thought he might have the keys on him, +but when I went to search I saw the dead eyes, and in them dead though +they were, such a look of hate, though unconscious of me or my +presence, that I fled from the place, and leaving the Count's room by +the window, crawled again up the castle wall. Regaining my room, I +threw myself panting upon the bed and tried to think. + + +29 June.--Today is the date of my last letter, and the Count has taken +steps to prove that it was genuine, for again I saw him leave the +castle by the same window, and in my clothes. As he went down the +wall, lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some lethal weapon, that +I might destroy him. But I fear that no weapon wrought along by man's +hand would have any effect on him. I dared not wait to see him +return, for I feared to see those weird sisters. I came back to the +library, and read there till I fell asleep. + +I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly as a man could +look as he said, "Tomorrow, my friend, we must part. You return to +your beautiful England, I to some work which may have such an end that +we may never meet. Your letter home has been despatched. Tomorrow I +shall not be here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the +morning come the Szgany, who have some labours of their own here, and +also come some Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come +for you, and shall bear you to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence +from Bukovina to Bistritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of +you at Castle Dracula." + +I suspected him, and determined to test his sincerity. Sincerity! It +seems like a profanation of the word to write it in connection with +such a monster, so I asked him point-blank, "Why may I not go +tonight?" + +"Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on a mission." + +"But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once." + +He smiled, such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that I knew there was +some trick behind his smoothness. He said, "And your baggage?" + +"I do not care about it. I can send for it some other time." + +The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy which made me rub +my eyes, it seemed so real, "You English have a saying which is close +to my heart, for its spirit is that which rules our boyars, 'Welcome +the coming, speed the parting guest.' Come with me, my dear young +friend. Not an hour shall you wait in my house against your will, +though sad am I at your going, and that you so suddenly desire it. +Come!" With a stately gravity, he, with the lamp, preceded me down +the stairs and along the hall. Suddenly he stopped. "Hark!" + +Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was almost as if +the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just as the music of a +great orchestra seems to leap under the baton of the conductor. After +a pause of a moment, he proceeded, in his stately way, to the door, +drew back the ponderous bolts, unhooked the heavy chains, and began to +draw it open. + +To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked. Suspiciously, +I looked all round, but could see no key of any kind. + +As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without grew +louder and angrier. Their red jaws, with champing teeth, and their +blunt-clawed feet as they leaped, came in through the opening door. I +knew than that to struggle at the moment against the Count was +useless. With such allies as these at his command, I could do +nothing. + +But still the door continued slowly to open, and only the Count's body +stood in the gap. Suddenly it struck me that this might be the moment +and means of my doom. I was to be given to the wolves, and at my own +instigation. There was a diabolical wickedness in the idea great +enough for the Count, and as the last chance I cried out, "Shut the +door! I shall wait till morning." And I covered my face with my +hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. + +With one sweep of his powerful arm, the Count threw the door shut, and +the great bolts clanged and echoed through the hall as they shot back +into their places. + +In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or two I went +to my own room. The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing his +hand to me, with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a smile +that Judas in hell might be proud of. + +When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I heard a +whispering at my door. I went to it softly and listened. Unless my +ears deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count. + +"Back! Back to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! +Have patience! Tonight is mine. Tomorrow night is yours!" + +There was a low, sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw open +the door, and saw without the three terrible women licking their lips. +As I appeared, they all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away. + +I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees. It is then so +near the end? Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom +I am dear! + + +30 June.--These may be the last words I ever write in this diary. I +slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my +knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me ready. + +At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the +morning had come. Then came the welcome cockcrow, and I felt that I +was safe. With a glad heart, I opened the door and ran down the hall. +I had seen that the door was unlocked, and now escape was before me. +With hands that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and +threw back the massive bolts. + +But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled and pulled +at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it rattled in its +casement. I could see the bolt shot. It had been locked after I left +the Count. + +Then a wild desire took me to obtain the key at any risk, and I +determined then and there to scale the wall again, and gain the +Count's room. He might kill me, but death now seemed the happier +choice of evils. Without a pause I rushed up to the east window, and +scrambled down the wall, as before, into the Count's room. It was +empty, but that was as I expected. I could not see a key anywhere, +but the heap of gold remained. I went through the door in the corner +and down the winding stair and along the dark passage to the old +chapel. I knew now well enough where to find the monster I sought. + +The great box was in the same place, close against the wall, but the +lid was laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails ready in +their places to be hammered home. + +I knew I must reach the body for the key, so I raised the lid, and +laid it back against the wall. And then I saw something which filled +my very soul with horror. There lay the Count, but looking as if his +youth had been half restored. For the white hair and moustache were +changed to dark iron-grey. The cheeks were fuller, and the white skin +seemed ruby-red underneath. The mouth was redder than ever, for on +the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which trickled from the corners of +the mouth and ran down over the chin and neck. Even the deep, burning +eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh, for the lids and pouches +underneath were bloated. It seemed as if the whole awful creature +were simply gorged with blood. He lay like a filthy leech, exhausted +with his repletion. + +I shuddered as I bent over to touch him, and every sense in me +revolted at the contact, but I had to search, or I was lost. The +coming night might see my own body a banquet in a similar war to those +horrid three. I felt all over the body, but no sign could I find of +the key. Then I stopped and looked at the Count. There was a mocking +smile on the bloated face which seemed to drive me mad. This was the +being I was helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for +centuries to come he might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his +lust for blood, and create a new and ever-widening circle of +semi-demons to batten on the helpless. + +The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon me to rid +the world of such a monster. There was no lethal weapon at hand, but +I seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to fill the cases, +and lifting it high, struck, with the edge downward, at the hateful +face. But as I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell upon me, +with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to paralyze +me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the face, merely +making a deep gash above the forehead. The shovel fell from my hand +across the box, and as I pulled it away the flange of the blade caught +the edge of the lid which fell over again, and hid the horrid thing +from my sight. The last glimpse I had was of the bloated face, +blood-stained and fixed with a grin of malice which would have held +its own in the nethermost hell. + +I thought and thought what should be my next move, but my brain seemed +on fire, and I waited with a despairing feeling growing over me. As I +waited I heard in the distance a gipsy song sung by merry voices +coming closer, and through their song the rolling of heavy wheels and +the cracking of whips. The Szgany and the Slovaks of whom the Count +had spoken were coming. With a last look around and at the box which +contained the vile body, I ran from the place and gained the Count's +room, determined to rush out at the moment the door should be opened. +With strained ears, I listened, and heard downstairs the grinding of +the key in the great lock and the falling back of the heavy door. +There must have been some other means of entry, or some one had a key +for one of the locked doors. + +Then there came the sound of many feet tramping and dying away in some +passage which sent up a clanging echo. I turned to run down again +towards the vault, where I might find the new entrance, but at the +moment there seemed to come a violent puff of wind, and the door to +the winding stair blew to with a shock that set the dust from the +lintels flying. When I ran to push it open, I found that it was +hopelessly fast. I was again a prisoner, and the net of doom was +closing round me more closely. + +As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many tramping feet +and the crash of weights being set down heavily, doubtless the boxes, +with their freight of earth. There was a sound of hammering. It is +the box being nailed down. Now I can hear the heavy feet tramping +again along the hall, with many other idle feet coming behind them. + +The door is shut, the chains rattle. There is a grinding of the key +in the lock. I can hear the key withdrawn, then another door opens +and shuts. I hear the creaking of lock and bolt. + +Hark! In the courtyard and down the rocky way the roll of heavy +wheels, the crack of whips, and the chorus of the Szgany as they pass +into the distance. + +I am alone in the castle with those horrible women. Faugh! Mina is a +woman, and there is nought in common. They are devils of the Pit! + +I shall not remain alone with them. I shall try to scale the castle +wall farther than I have yet attempted. I shall take some of the gold +with me, lest I want it later. I may find a way from this dreadful +place. + +And then away for home! Away to the quickest and nearest train! Away +from the cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil and his +children still walk with earthly feet! + +At least God's mercy is better than that of those monsters, and the +precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep, as a man. +Goodbye, all. Mina! + + + + +CHAPTER 5 + + +LETTER FROM MISS MINA MURRAY TO MISS LUCY WESTENRA + +9 May. + +My dearest Lucy, + +Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply overwhelmed +with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is sometimes +trying. I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can +talk together freely and build our castles in the air. I have been +working very hard lately, because I want to keep up with Jonathan's +studies, and I have been practicing shorthand very assiduously. +When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if +I can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in +this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I +am practicing very hard. + +He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is +keeping a stenographic journal of his travels abroad. When +I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way. I don't +mean one of those two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed- +in-a-corner diaries, but a sort of journal which I can write +in whenever I feel inclined. + +I do not suppose there will be much of interest to other people, but +it is not intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if +there is in it anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise +book. I shall try to do what I see lady journalists do, +interviewing and writing descriptions and trying to remember +conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, one can +remember all that goes on or that one hears said during a day. + +However, we shall see. I will tell you of my little plans when we +meet. I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from +Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week. I +am longing to hear all his news. It must be nice to see strange +countries. I wonder if we, I mean Jonathan and I, shall ever see +them together. There is the ten o'clock bell ringing. Goodbye. + +Your loving + +Mina + + +Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me +anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially +of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man??? + + + +LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY + + +17, Chatham Street + +Wednesday + +My dearest Mina, + + +I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad correspondent. +I wrote you twice since we parted, and your last letter was only +your second. Besides, I have nothing to tell you. There is really +nothing to interest you. + +Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a great deal to +picture-galleries and for walks and rides in the park. As +to the tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was the one who +was with me at the last Pop. Someone has evidently been +telling tales. + +That was Mr. Holmwood. He often comes to see us, and he and +Mamma get on very well together, they have so many things +to talk about in common. + +We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were +not already engaged to Jonathan. He is an excellent parti, being +handsome, well off, and of good birth. He is a doctor and really +clever. Just fancy! He is only nine-and twenty, and he has an +immense lunatic asylum all under his own care. Mr. Holmwood +introduced him to me, and he called here to see us, and often comes +now. I think he is one of the most resolute men I ever saw, and yet +the most calm. He seems absolutely imperturbable. I can fancy what +a wonderful power he must have over his patients. He has a curious +habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read +one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter +myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. + +Do you ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can +tell you it is not a bad study, and gives you more trouble +than you can well fancy if you have never tried it. + +He says that I afford him a curious psychological study, and +I humbly think I do. I do not, as you know, take sufficient +interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. +Dress is a bore. That is slang again, but never mind. Arthur +says that every day. + +There, it is all out, Mina, we have told all our secrets to +each other since we were children. We have slept together +and eaten together, and laughed and cried together, and +now, though I have spoken, I would like to speak more. Oh, +Mina, couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing as I +write, for although I think he loves me, he has not told me +so in words. But, oh, Mina, I love him. I love him! There, +that does me good. + +I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire undressing, as we +used to sit, and I would try to tell you what I feel. I do not know +how I am writing this even to you. I am afraid to stop, or I should +tear up the letter, and I don't want to stop, for I do so want to +tell you all. Let me hear from you at once, and tell me all that you +think about it. Mina, pray for my happiness. + +Lucy + + +P.S.--I need not tell you this is a secret. +Goodnight again. L. + + + + +LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY + +24 May + +My dearest Mina, + +Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet letter. It +was so nice to be able to tell you and to have your sympathy. + +My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs +are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never +had a proposal till today, not a real proposal, and today I had +three. Just fancy! Three proposals in one day! Isn't it awful! I +feel sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows. +Oh, Mina, I am so happy that I don't know what to do with myself. +And three proposals! But, for goodness' sake, don't tell any of the +girls, or they would be getting all sorts of extravagant ideas, and +imagining themselves injured and slighted if in their very first day +at home they did not get six at least. Some girls are so vain! You +and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are going to settle down soon +soberly into old married women, can despise vanity. Well, I must +tell you about the three, but you must keep it a secret, dear, from +every one except, of course, Jonathan. You will tell him, because I +would, if I were in your place, certainly tell Arthur. A woman +ought to tell her husband everything. Don't you think so, dear? And +I must be fair. Men like women, certainly their wives, to be quite +as fair as they are. And women, I am afraid, are not always quite +as fair as they should be. + +Well, my dear, number One came just before lunch. I told you of +him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic asylum man, with the strong jaw +and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous +all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all +sorts of little things, and remembered them, but he almost managed +to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they +are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing +with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream. He spoke to me, +Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, +though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me +to help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how unhappy he would +be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said he was +a brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off +and asked if I could love him in time, and when I shook my head his +hands trembled, and then with some hesitation he asked me if I cared +already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did +not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because +if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope. And then, Mina, +I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only +told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong +and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I +would be happy, and that If I ever wanted a friend I must count him +one of my best. + +Oh, Mina dear, I can't help crying, and you must excuse this letter +being all blotted. Being proposed to is all very nice and all that +sort of thing, but it isn't at all a happy thing when you have to +see a poor fellow, whom you know loves you honestly, going away and +looking all broken hearted, and to know that, no matter what he may +say at the moment, you are passing out of his life. My dear, I must +stop here at present, I feel so miserable, though I am so happy. + +Evening. + +Arthur has just gone, and I feel in better spirits than when I +left off, so I can go on telling you about the day. + +Well, my dear, number Two came after lunch. He is such a nice +fellow, an American from Texas, and he looks so young and so fresh +that it seems almost impossible that he has been to so many places +and has such adventures. I sympathize with poor Desdemona when she +had such a stream poured in her ear, even by a black man. I suppose +that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from +fears, and we marry him. I know now what I would do if I were a man +and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr. +Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and +yet . . . + +My dear, I am somewhat previous. Mr. Quincy P. Morris found me +alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he +doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him +all I could, I am not ashamed to say it now. I must tell you +beforehand that Mr. Morris doesn't always speak slang, that is to +say, he never does so to strangers or before them, for he is really +well educated and has exquisite manners, but he found out that it +amused me to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was +present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such funny +things. I am afraid, my dear, he has to invent it all, for it fits +exactly into whatever else he has to say. But this is a way slang +has. I do not know myself if I shall ever speak slang. I do not +know if Arthur likes it, as I have never heard him use any as yet. + +Well, Mr. Morris sat down beside me and looked as happy and jolly as +he could, but I could see all the same that he was very nervous. He +took my hand in his, and said ever so sweetly . . . + +"Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of +your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that +is you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you +quit. Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down +the long road together, driving in double harness?" + +Well, he did look so good humoured and so jolly that it didn't seem +half so hard to refuse him as it did poor Dr. Seward. So I said, as +lightly as I could, that I did not know anything of hitching, and +that I wasn't broken to harness at all yet. Then he said that he +had spoken in a light manner, and he hoped that if he had made a +mistake in doing so on so grave, so momentous, and occasion for him, +I would forgive him. He really did look serious when he was saying +it, and I couldn't help feeling a sort of exultation that he was +number Two in one day. And then, my dear, before I could say a word +he began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his +very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I +shall never again think that a man must be playful always, and never +earnest, because he is merry at times. I suppose he saw something +in my face which checked him, for he suddenly stopped, and said with +a sort of manly fervour that I could have loved him for if I had +been free . . . + +"Lucy, you are an honest hearted girl, I know. I should not be here +speaking to you as I am now if I did not believe you clean grit, +right through to the very depths of your soul. Tell me, like one +good fellow to another, is there any one else that you care for? +And if there is I'll never trouble you a hair's breadth again, but +will be, if you will let me, a very faithful friend." + +My dear Mina, why are men so noble when we women are so little +worthy of them? Here was I almost making fun of this great hearted, +true gentleman. I burst into tears, I am afraid, my dear, you will +think this a very sloppy letter in more ways than one, and I really +felt very badly. + +Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as +want her, and save all this trouble? But this is heresy, +and I must not say it. I am glad to say that, though I was +crying, I was able to look into Mr. Morris' brave eyes, and +I told him out straight . . . + +"Yes, there is some one I love, though he has not told me +yet that he even loves me." I was right to speak to him so +frankly, for quite a light came into his face, and he put +out both his hands and took mine, I think I put them into +his, and said in a hearty way . . . + +"That's my brave girl. It's better worth being late for a chance of +winning you than being in time for any other girl in the world. +Don't cry, my dear. If it's for me, I'm a hard nut to crack, and I +take it standing up. If that other fellow doesn't know his +happiness, well, he'd better look for it soon, or he'll have to deal +with me. Little girl, your honesty and pluck have made me a friend, +and that's rarer than a lover, it's more selfish anyhow. My dear, +I'm going to have a pretty lonely walk between this and Kingdom +Come. Won't you give me one kiss? It'll be something to keep off +the darkness now and then. You can, you know, if you like, for that +other good fellow, or you could not love him, hasn't spoken yet." + +That quite won me, Mina, for it was brave and sweet of him, +and noble too, to a rival, wasn't it? And he so sad, so I +leant over and kissed him. + +He stood up with my two hands in his, and as he looked down into my +face, I am afraid I was blushing very much, he said, "Little girl, I +hold your hand, and you've kissed me, and if these things don't make +us friends nothing ever will. Thank you for your sweet honesty to +me, and goodbye." + +He wrung my hand, and taking up his hat, went straight out of the +room without looking back, without a tear or a quiver or a pause, +and I am crying like a baby. + +Oh, why must a man like that be made unhappy when there are lots of +girls about who would worship the very ground he trod on? I know I +would if I were free, only I don't want to be free. My dear, this +quite upset me, and I feel I cannot write of happiness just at once, +after telling you of it, and I don't wish to tell of the number +Three until it can be all happy. Ever your loving . . . + +Lucy + + +P.S.--Oh, about number Three, I needn't tell you of number +Three, need I? Besides, it was all so confused. It seemed +only a moment from his coming into the room till both his +arms were round me, and he was kissing me. I am very, very +happy, and I don't know what I have done to deserve it. I +must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful +to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a +lover, such a husband, and such a friend. + +Goodbye. + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY (Kept in phonograph) + +25 May.--Ebb tide in appetite today. Cannot eat, cannot rest, so +diary instead. Since my rebuff of yesterday I have a sort of empty +feeling. Nothing in the world seems of sufficient importance to be +worth the doing. As I knew that the only cure for this sort of thing +was work, I went amongst the patients. I picked out one who has +afforded me a study of much interest. He is so quaint that I am +determined to understand him as well as I can. Today I seemed to get +nearer than ever before to the heart of his mystery. + +I questioned him more fully than I had ever done, with a view to +making myself master of the facts of his hallucination. In my manner +of doing it there was, I now see, something of cruelty. I seemed to +wish to keep him to the point of his madness, a thing which I avoid +with the patients as I would the mouth of hell. + +(Mem., Under what circumstances would I not avoid the pit of hell?) +Omnia Romae venalia sunt. Hell has its price! If there be anything +behind this instinct it will be valuable to trace it afterwards +accurately, so I had better commence to do so, therefore . . . + +R. M, Renfield, age 59. Sanguine temperament, great physical +strength, morbidly excitable, periods of gloom, ending in some fixed +idea which I cannot make out. I presume that the sanguine temperament +itself and the disturbing influence end in a mentally-accomplished +finish, a possibly dangerous man, probably dangerous if unselfish. In +selfish men caution is as secure an armour for their foes as for +themselves. What I think of on this point is, when self is the fixed +point the centripetal force is balanced with the centrifugal. When +duty, a cause, etc., is the fixed point, the latter force is +paramount, and only accident or a series of accidents can balance it. + + + +LETTER, QUINCEY P. MORRIS TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMOOD + +25 May. + +My dear Art, + +We've told yarns by the campfire in the prairies, and dressed one +another's wounds after trying a landing at the Marquesas, and drunk +healths on the shore of Titicaca. There are more yarns to be told, +and other wounds to be healed, and another health to be drunk. +Won't you let this be at my campfire tomorrow night? I have no +hesitation in asking you, as I know a certain lady is engaged to a +certain dinner party, and that you are free. There will only be one +other, our old pal at the Korea, Jack Seward. He's coming, too, and +we both want to mingle our weeps over the wine cup, and to drink a +health with all our hearts to the happiest man in all the wide +world, who has won the noblest heart that God has made and best +worth winning. We promise you a hearty welcome, and a loving +greeting, and a health as true as your own right hand. We shall +both swear to leave you at home if you drink too deep to a certain +pair of eyes. Come! + +Yours, as ever and always, + +Quincey P. Morris + + + + + +TELEGRAM FROM ARTHUR HOLMWOOD TO QUINCEY P. MORRIS + +26 May + + +Count me in every time. I bear messages which will make both +your ears tingle. + +Art + + + + +CHAPTER 6 + + +MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL + +24 July. Whitby.--Lucy met me at the station, looking sweeter and +lovelier than ever, and we drove up to the house at the Crescent in +which they have rooms. This is a lovely place. The little river, the +Esk, runs through a deep valley, which broadens out as it comes near +the harbour. A great viaduct runs across, with high piers, through +which the view seems somehow further away than it really is. The +valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on +the high land on either side you look right across it, unless you are +near enough to see down. The houses of the old town--the side away +from us, are all red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other +anyhow, like the pictures we see of Nuremberg. Right over the town is +the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is +the scene of part of "Marmion," where the girl was built up in the +wall. It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful +and romantic bits. There is a legend that a white lady is seen in one +of the windows. Between it and the town there is another church, the +parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones. +This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over +the town, and has a full view of the harbour and all up the bay to +where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into the sea. It +descends so steeply over the harbour that part of the bank has fallen +away, and some of the graves have been destroyed. + +In one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches out over +the sandy pathway far below. There are walks, with seats beside them, +through the churchyard, and people go and sit there all day long +looking at the beautiful view and enjoying the breeze. + +I shall come and sit here often myself and work. Indeed, I am writing +now, with my book on my knee, and listening to the talk of three old +men who are sitting beside me. They seem to do nothing all day but +sit here and talk. + +The harbour lies below me, with, on the far side, one long granite +wall stretching out into the sea, with a curve outwards at the end of +it, in the middle of which is a lighthouse. A heavy seawall runs +along outside of it. On the near side, the seawall makes an elbow +crooked inversely, and its end too has a lighthouse. Between the two +piers there is a narrow opening into the harbour, which then suddenly +widens. + +It is nice at high water, but when the tide is out it shoals away to +nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk, running between +banks of sand, with rocks here and there. Outside the harbour on this +side there rises for about half a mile a great reef, the sharp of +which runs straight out from behind the south lighthouse. At the end +of it is a buoy with a bell, which swings in bad weather, and sends in +a mournful sound on the wind. + +They have a legend here that when a ship is lost bells are heard out at +sea. I must ask the old man about this. He is coming this way . . . + +He is a funny old man. He must be awfully old, for his face is +gnarled and twisted like the bark of a tree. He tells me that he is +nearly a hundred, and that he was a sailor in the Greenland fishing +fleet when Waterloo was fought. He is, I am afraid, a very sceptical +person, for when I asked him about the bells at sea and the White Lady +at the abbey he said very brusquely, + +"I wouldn't fash masel' about them, miss. Them things be all wore +out. Mind, I don't say that they never was, but I do say that they +wasn't in my time. They be all very well for comers and trippers, an' +the like, but not for a nice young lady like you. Them feet-folks +from York and Leeds that be always eatin' cured herrin's and drinkin' +tea an' lookin' out to buy cheap jet would creed aught. I wonder +masel' who'd be bothered tellin' lies to them, even the newspapers, +which is full of fool-talk." + +I thought he would be a good person to learn interesting things from, +so I asked him if he would mind telling me something about the whale +fishing in the old days. He was just settling himself to begin when +the clock struck six, whereupon he laboured to get up, and said, + +"I must gang ageeanwards home now, miss. My grand-daughter doesn't +like to be kept waitin' when the tea is ready, for it takes me time to +crammle aboon the grees, for there be a many of 'em, and miss, I lack +belly-timber sairly by the clock." + +He hobbled away, and I could see him hurrying, as well as he could, +down the steps. The steps are a great feature on the place. They +lead from the town to the church, there are hundreds of them, I do not +know how many, and they wind up in a delicate curve. The slope is so +gentle that a horse could easily walk up and down them. + +I think they must originally have had something to do with the abbey. +I shall go home too. Lucy went out, visiting with her mother, and as +they were only duty calls, I did not go. + + +1 August.--I came up here an hour ago with Lucy, and we had a most +interesting talk with my old friend and the two others who always come +and join him. He is evidently the Sir Oracle of them, and I should +think must have been in his time a most dictatorial person. + +He will not admit anything, and down faces everybody. If he can't +out-argue them he bullies them, and then takes their silence for +agreement with his views. + +Lucy was looking sweetly pretty in her white lawn frock. She has got +a beautiful colour since she has been here. + +I noticed that the old men did not lose any time in coming and sitting +near her when we sat down. She is so sweet with old people, I think +they all fell in love with her on the spot. Even my old man succumbed +and did not contradict her, but gave me double share instead. I got +him on the subject of the legends, and he went off at once into a sort +of sermon. I must try to remember it and put it down. + +"It be all fool-talk, lock, stock, and barrel, that's what it be and +nowt else. These bans an' wafts an' boh-ghosts an' bar-guests an' +bogles an' all anent them is only fit to set bairns an' dizzy women +a'belderin'. They be nowt but air-blebs. They, an' all grims an' signs +an' warnin's, be all invented by parsons an' illsome berk-bodies an' +railway touters to skeer an' scunner hafflin's, an' to get folks to do +somethin' that they don't other incline to. It makes me ireful to +think o' them. Why, it's them that, not content with printin' lies on +paper an' preachin' them out of pulpits, does want to be cuttin' them +on the tombstones. Look here all around you in what airt ye will. All +them steans, holdin' up their heads as well as they can out of their +pride, is acant, simply tumblin' down with the weight o' the lies +wrote on them, 'Here lies the body' or 'Sacred to the memory' wrote on +all of them, an' yet in nigh half of them there bean't no bodies at +all, an' the memories of them bean't cared a pinch of snuff about, +much less sacred. Lies all of them, nothin' but lies of one kind or +another! My gog, but it'll be a quare scowderment at the Day of +Judgment when they come tumblin' up in their death-sarks, all jouped +together an' trying' to drag their tombsteans with them to prove how +good they was, some of them trimmlin' an' dithering, with their hands +that dozzened an' slippery from lyin' in the sea that they can't even +keep their gurp o' them." + +I could see from the old fellow's self-satisfied air and the way in +which he looked round for the approval of his cronies that he was +"showing off," so I put in a word to keep him going. + +"Oh, Mr. Swales, you can't be serious. Surely these tombstones are +not all wrong?" + +"Yabblins! There may be a poorish few not wrong, savin' where they +make out the people too good, for there be folk that do think a +balm-bowl be like the sea, if only it be their own. The whole thing +be only lies. Now look you here. You come here a stranger, an' you +see this kirkgarth." + +I nodded, for I thought it better to assent, though I did not quite +understand his dialect. I knew it had something to do with the +church. + +He went on, "And you consate that all these steans be aboon folk that +be haped here, snod an' snog?" I assented again. "Then that be just +where the lie comes in. Why, there be scores of these laybeds that be +toom as old Dun's 'baccabox on Friday night." + +He nudged one of his companions, and they all laughed. "And, my gog! +How could they be otherwise? Look at that one, the aftest abaft the +bier-bank, read it!" + +I went over and read, "Edward Spencelagh, master mariner, murdered by +pirates off the coast of Andres, April, 1854, age 30." When I came +back Mr. Swales went on, + +"Who brought him home, I wonder, to hap him here? Murdered off the +coast of Andres! An' you consated his body lay under! Why, I could +name ye a dozen whose bones lie in the Greenland seas above," he +pointed northwards, "or where the currants may have drifted them. +There be the steans around ye. Ye can, with your young eyes, read the +small print of the lies from here. This Braithwaite Lowery, I knew +his father, lost in the Lively off Greenland in '20, or Andrew +Woodhouse, drowned in the same seas in 1777, or John Paxton, drowned +off Cape Farewell a year later, or old John Rawlings, whose +grandfather sailed with me, drowned in the Gulf of Finland in '50. Do +ye think that all these men will have to make a rush to Whitby when +the trumpet sounds? I have me antherums aboot it! I tell ye that +when they got here they'd be jommlin' and jostlin' one another that +way that it 'ud be like a fight up on the ice in the old days, when +we'd be at one another from daylight to dark, an' tryin' to tie up our +cuts by the aurora borealis." This was evidently local pleasantry, for +the old man cackled over it, and his cronies joined in with gusto. + +"But," I said, "surely you are not quite correct, for you start on the +assumption that all the poor people, or their spirits, will have to +take their tombstones with them on the Day of Judgment. Do you think +that will be really necessary?" + +"Well, what else be they tombstones for? Answer me that, miss!" + +"To please their relatives, I suppose." + +"To please their relatives, you suppose!" This he said with intense +scorn. "How will it pleasure their relatives to know that lies is +wrote over them, and that everybody in the place knows that they be +lies?" + +He pointed to a stone at our feet which had been laid down as a slab, +on which the seat was rested, close to the edge of the cliff. "Read +the lies on that thruff-stone," he said. + +The letters were upside down to me from where I sat, but Lucy was more +opposite to them, so she leant over and read, "Sacred to the memory of +George Canon, who died, in the hope of a glorious resurrection, on +July 29, 1873, falling from the rocks at Kettleness. This tomb was +erected by his sorrowing mother to her dearly beloved son. 'He was the +only son of his mother, and she was a widow.' Really, Mr. Swales, I +don't see anything very funny in that!" She spoke her comment very +gravely and somewhat severely. + +"Ye don't see aught funny! Ha-ha! But that's because ye don't gawm +the sorrowin' mother was a hell-cat that hated him because he was +acrewk'd, a regular lamiter he was, an' he hated her so that he +committed suicide in order that she mightn't get an insurance she put +on his life. He blew nigh the top of his head off with an old musket +that they had for scarin' crows with. 'Twarn't for crows then, for it +brought the clegs and the dowps to him. That's the way he fell off +the rocks. And, as to hopes of a glorious resurrection, I've often +heard him say masel' that he hoped he'd go to hell, for his mother was +so pious that she'd be sure to go to heaven, an' he didn't want to +addle where she was. Now isn't that stean at any rate," he hammered +it with his stick as he spoke, "a pack of lies? And won't it make +Gabriel keckle when Geordie comes pantin' ut the grees with the +tompstean balanced on his hump, and asks to be took as evidence!" + +I did not know what to say, but Lucy turned the conversation as she +said, rising up, "Oh, why did you tell us of this? It is my favourite +seat, and I cannot leave it, and now I find I must go on sitting over +the grave of a suicide." + +"That won't harm ye, my pretty, an' it may make poor Geordie gladsome +to have so trim a lass sittin' on his lap. That won't hurt ye. Why, +I've sat here off an' on for nigh twenty years past, an' it hasn't +done me no harm. Don't ye fash about them as lies under ye, or that +doesn' lie there either! It'll be time for ye to be getting scart +when ye see the tombsteans all run away with, and the place as bare as +a stubble-field. There's the clock, and I must gang. My service to +ye, ladies!" And off he hobbled. + +Lucy and I sat awhile, and it was all so beautiful before us that we +took hands as we sat, and she told me all over again about Arthur and +their coming marriage. That made me just a little heart-sick, for I +haven't heard from Jonathan for a whole month. + + +The same day. I came up here alone, for I am very sad. There was no +letter for me. I hope there cannot be anything the matter with +Jonathan. The clock has just struck nine. I see the lights scattered +all over the town, sometimes in rows where the streets are, and +sometimes singly. They run right up the Esk and die away in the curve +of the valley. To my left the view is cut off by a black line of roof +of the old house next to the abbey. The sheep and lambs are bleating +in the fields away behind me, and there is a clatter of donkeys' hoofs +up the paved road below. The band on the pier is playing a harsh +waltz in good time, and further along the quay there is a Salvation +Army meeting in a back street. Neither of the bands hears the other, +but up here I hear and see them both. I wonder where Jonathan is and +if he is thinking of me! I wish he were here. + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +5 June.--The case of Renfield grows more interesting the more I get to +understand the man. He has certain qualities very largely developed, +selfishness, secrecy, and purpose. + +I wish I could get at what is the object of the latter. He seems to +have some settled scheme of his own, but what it is I do not know. +His redeeming quality is a love of animals, though, indeed, he has +such curious turns in it that I sometimes imagine he is only +abnormally cruel. His pets are of odd sorts. + +Just now his hobby is catching flies. He has at present such a +quantity that I have had myself to expostulate. To my astonishment, +he did not break out into a fury, as I expected, but took the matter +in simple seriousness. He thought for a moment, and then said, "May I +have three days? I shall clear them away." Of course, I said that +would do. I must watch him. + + +18 June.--He has turned his mind now to spiders, and has got several +very big fellows in a box. He keeps feeding them his flies, and the +number of the latter is becoming sensibly diminished, although he has +used half his food in attracting more flies from outside to his room. + + +1 July.--His spiders are now becoming as great a nuisance as his +flies, and today I told him that he must get rid of them. + +He looked very sad at this, so I said that he must some of them, at +all events. He cheerfully acquiesced in this, and I gave him the same +time as before for reduction. + +He disgusted me much while with him, for when a horrid blowfly, +bloated with some carrion food, buzzed into the room, he caught it, +held it exultantly for a few moments between his finger and thumb, and +before I knew what he was going to do, put it in his mouth and ate it. + +I scolded him for it, but he argued quietly that it was very good and +very wholesome, that it was life, strong life, and gave life to him. +This gave me an idea, or the rudiment of one. I must watch how he +gets rid of his spiders. + +He has evidently some deep problem in his mind, for he keeps a little +notebook in which he is always jotting down something. Whole pages of +it are filled with masses of figures, generally single numbers added +up in batches, and then the totals added in batches again, as though +he were focussing some account, as the auditors put it. + + +8 July.--There is a method in his madness, and the rudimentary idea in +my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and then, oh, +unconscious cerebration, you will have to give the wall to your +conscious brother. + +I kept away from my friend for a few days, so that I might notice if +there were any change. Things remain as they were except that he has +parted with some of his pets and got a new one. + +He has managed to get a sparrow, and has already partially tamed it. +His means of taming is simple, for already the spiders have +diminished. Those that do remain, however, are well fed, for he still +brings in the flies by tempting them with his food. + +19 July--We are progressing. My friend has now a whole colony of +sparrows, and his flies and spiders are almost obliterated. When I +came in he ran to me and said he wanted to ask me a great favour, a +very, very great favour. And as he spoke, he fawned on me like a dog. + +I asked him what it was, and he said, with a sort of rapture in his +voice and bearing, "A kitten, a nice, little, sleek playful kitten, +that I can play with, and teach, and feed, and feed, and feed!" + +I was not unprepared for this request, for I had noticed how his pets +went on increasing in size and vivacity, but I did not care that his +pretty family of tame sparrows should be wiped out in the same manner +as the flies and spiders. So I said I would see about it, and asked +him if he would not rather have a cat than a kitten. + +His eagerness betrayed him as he answered, "Oh, yes, I would like a +cat! I only asked for a kitten lest you should refuse me a cat. No +one would refuse me a kitten, would they?" + +I shook my head, and said that at present I feared it would not be +possible, but that I would see about it. His face fell, and I could +see a warning of danger in it, for there was a sudden fierce, sidelong +look which meant killing. The man is an undeveloped homicidal +maniac. I shall test him with his present craving and see how it will +work out, then I shall know more. + + +10 pm.--I have visited him again and found him sitting in a corner +brooding. When I came in he threw himself on his knees before me and +implored me to let him have a cat, that his salvation depended upon +it. + +I was firm, however, and told him that he could not have it, whereupon +he went without a word, and sat down, gnawing his fingers, in the +corner where I had found him. I shall see him in the morning early. + + +20 July.--Visited Renfield very early, before attendant went his +rounds. Found him up and humming a tune. He was spreading out his +sugar, which he had saved, in the window, and was manifestly beginning +his fly catching again, and beginning it cheerfully and with a good +grace. + +I looked around for his birds, and not seeing them, asked him where +they were. He replied, without turning round, that they had all flown +away. There were a few feathers about the room and on his pillow a +drop of blood. I said nothing, but went and told the keeper to report +to me if there were anything odd about him during the day. + + +11 am.--The attendant has just been to see me to say that Renfield has +been very sick and has disgorged a whole lot of feathers. "My belief +is, doctor," he said, "that he has eaten his birds, and that he just +took and ate them raw!" + + +11 pm.--I gave Renfield a strong opiate tonight, enough to make even +him sleep, and took away his pocketbook to look at it. The thought +that has been buzzing about my brain lately is complete, and the +theory proved. + +My homicidal maniac is of a peculiar kind. I shall have to invent a +new classification for him, and call him a zoophagous (life-eating) +maniac. What he desires is to absorb as many lives as he can, and he +has laid himself out to achieve it in a cumulative way. He gave many +flies to one spider and many spiders to one bird, and then wanted a +cat to eat the many birds. What would have been his later steps? + +It would almost be worth while to complete the experiment. It might +be done if there were only a sufficient cause. Men sneered at +vivisection, and yet look at its results today! Why not advance +science in its most difficult and vital aspect, the knowledge of the +brain? + +Had I even the secret of one such mind, did I hold the key to the +fancy of even one lunatic, I might advance my own branch of science to +a pitch compared with which Burdon-Sanderson's physiology or Ferrier's +brain knowledge would be as nothing. If only there were a sufficient +cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted. A +good cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an +exceptional brain, congenitally? + +How well the man reasoned. Lunatics always do within their own scope. +I wonder at how many lives he values a man, or if at only one. He has +closed the account most accurately, and today begun a new record. How +many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives? + +To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new +hope, and that truly I began a new record. So it shall be until the +Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance +to profit or loss. + +Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be angry with my +friend whose happiness is yours, but I must only wait on hopeless and +work. Work! Work! + +If I could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend there, a good, +unselfish cause to make me work, that would be indeed happiness. + + + +MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL + +26 July.--I am anxious, and it soothes me to express myself here. It +is like whispering to one's self and listening at the same time. And +there is also something about the shorthand symbols that makes it +different from writing. I am unhappy about Lucy and about Jonathan. +I had not heard from Jonathan for some time, and was very concerned, +but yesterday dear Mr. Hawkins, who is always so kind, sent me a +letter from him. I had written asking him if he had heard, and he +said the enclosed had just been received. It is only a line dated +from Castle Dracula, and says that he is just starting for home. That +is not like Jonathan. I do not understand it, and it makes me uneasy. + +Then, too, Lucy, although she is so well, has lately taken to her old +habit of walking in her sleep. Her mother has spoken to me about it, +and we have decided that I am to lock the door of our room every +night. + +Mrs. Westenra has got an idea that sleep-walkers always go out on +roofs of houses and along the edges of cliffs and then get suddenly +wakened and fall over with a despairing cry that echoes all over the +place. + +Poor dear, she is naturally anxious about Lucy, and she tells me that +her husband, Lucy's father, had the same habit, that he would get up +in the night and dress himself and go out, if he were not stopped. + +Lucy is to be married in the autumn, and she is already planning out +her dresses and how her house is to be arranged. I sympathise with +her, for I do the same, only Jonathan and I will start in life in a +very simple way, and shall have to try to make both ends meet. + +Mr. Holmwood, he is the Hon. Arthur Holmwood, only son of Lord +Godalming, is coming up here very shortly, as soon as he can leave +town, for his father is not very well, and I think dear Lucy is +counting the moments till he comes. + +She wants to take him up in the seat on the churchyard cliff and show +him the beauty of Whitby. I daresay it is the waiting which disturbs +her. She will be all right when he arrives. + + +27 July.--No news from Jonathan. I am getting quite uneasy about him, +though why I should I do not know, but I do wish that he would write, +if it were only a single line. + +Lucy walks more than ever, and each night I am awakened by her moving +about the room. Fortunately, the weather is so hot that she cannot +get cold. But still, the anxiety and the perpetually being awakened +is beginning to tell on me, and I am getting nervous and wakeful +myself. Thank God, Lucy's health keeps up. Mr. Holmwood has been +suddenly called to Ring to see his father, who has been taken +seriously ill. Lucy frets at the postponement of seeing him, but it +does not touch her looks. She is a trifle stouter, and her cheeks are +a lovely rose-pink. She has lost the anemic look which she had. I +pray it will all last. + + +3 August.--Another week gone by, and no news from Jonathan, not even +to Mr. Hawkins, from whom I have heard. Oh, I do hope he is not ill. +He surely would have written. I look at that last letter of his, but +somehow it does not satisfy me. It does not read like him, and yet it +is his writing. There is no mistake of that. + +Lucy has not walked much in her sleep the last week, but there is an +odd concentration about her which I do not understand, even in her +sleep she seems to be watching me. She tries the door, and finding it +locked, goes about the room searching for the key. + + +6 August.--Another three days, and no news. This suspense is getting +dreadful. If I only knew where to write to or where to go to, I +should feel easier. But no one has heard a word of Jonathan since +that last letter. I must only pray to God for patience. + +Lucy is more excitable than ever, but is otherwise well. Last night +was very threatening, and the fishermen say that we are in for a +storm. I must try to watch it and learn the weather signs. + +Today is a gray day, and the sun as I write is hidden in thick clouds, +high over Kettleness. Everything is gray except the green grass, +which seems like emerald amongst it, gray earthy rock, gray clouds, +tinged with the sunburst at the far edge, hang over the gray sea, into +which the sandpoints stretch like gray figures. The sea is tumbling +in over the shallows and the sandy flats with a roar, muffled in the +sea-mists drifting inland. The horizon is lost in a gray mist. All +vastness, the clouds are piled up like giant rocks, and there is a +'brool' over the sea that sounds like some passage of doom. Dark +figures are on the beach here and there, sometimes half shrouded in +the mist, and seem 'men like trees walking'. The fishing boats are +racing for home, and rise and dip in the ground swell as they sweep +into the harbour, bending to the scuppers. Here comes old Mr. Swales. +He is making straight for me, and I can see, by the way he lifts his +hat, that he wants to talk. + +I have been quite touched by the change in the poor old man. When he +sat down beside me, he said in a very gentle way, "I want to say +something to you, miss." + +I could see he was not at ease, so I took his poor old wrinkled hand in +mine and asked him to speak fully. + +So he said, leaving his hand in mine, "I'm afraid, my deary, that I +must have shocked you by all the wicked things I've been sayin' about +the dead, and such like, for weeks past, but I didn't mean them, and I +want ye to remember that when I'm gone. We aud folks that be daffled, +and with one foot abaft the krok-hooal, don't altogether like to think +of it, and we don't want to feel scart of it, and that's why I've took +to makin' light of it, so that I'd cheer up my own heart a bit. But, +Lord love ye, miss, I ain't afraid of dyin', not a bit, only I don't +want to die if I can help it. My time must be nigh at hand now, for I +be aud, and a hundred years is too much for any man to expect. And +I'm so nigh it that the Aud Man is already whettin' his scythe. Ye +see, I can't get out o' the habit of caffin' about it all at once. +The chafts will wag as they be used to. Some day soon the Angel of +Death will sound his trumpet for me. But don't ye dooal an' greet, my +deary!"--for he saw that I was crying--"if he should come this very +night I'd not refuse to answer his call. For life be, after all, only +a waitin' for somethin' else than what we're doin', and death be all +that we can rightly depend on. But I'm content, for it's comin' to +me, my deary, and comin' quick. It may be comin' while we be lookin' +and wonderin'. Maybe it's in that wind out over the sea that's +bringin' with it loss and wreck, and sore distress, and sad hearts. +Look! Look!" he cried suddenly. "There's something in that wind and +in the hoast beyont that sounds, and looks, and tastes, and smells +like death. It's in the air. I feel it comin'. Lord, make me answer +cheerful, when my call comes!" He held up his arms devoutly, and +raised his hat. His mouth moved as though he were praying. After a +few minutes' silence, he got up, shook hands with me, and blessed me, +and said goodbye, and hobbled off. It all touched me, and upset me +very much. + +I was glad when the coastguard came along, with his spyglass under his +arm. He stopped to talk with me, as he always does, but all the time +kept looking at a strange ship. + +"I can't make her out," he said. "She's a Russian, by the look of +her. But she's knocking about in the queerest way. She doesn't know +her mind a bit. She seems to see the storm coming, but can't decide +whether to run up north in the open, or to put in here. Look there +again! She is steered mighty strangely, for she doesn't mind the hand +on the wheel, changes about with every puff of wind. We'll hear more +of her before this time tomorrow." + + + + +CHAPTER 7 + + +CUTTING FROM "THE DAILYGRAPH", 8 AUGUST + + +(PASTED IN MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL) + + +From a correspondent. + +Whitby. + +One of the greatest and suddenest storms on record has just been +experienced here, with results both strange and unique. The weather +had been somewhat sultry, but not to any degree uncommon in the +month of August. Saturday evening was as fine as was ever known, +and the great body of holiday-makers laid out yesterday for visits +to Mulgrave Woods, Robin Hood's Bay, Rig Mill, Runswick, Staithes, +and the various trips in the neighborhood of Whitby. The steamers +Emma and Scarborough made trips up and down the coast, and there was +an unusual amount of 'tripping' both to and from Whitby. The day +was unusually fine till the afternoon, when some of the gossips who +frequent the East Cliff churchyard, and from the commanding eminence +watch the wide sweep of sea visible to the north and east, called +attention to a sudden show of 'mares tails' high in the sky to the +northwest. The wind was then blowing from the south-west in the +mild degree which in barometrical language is ranked 'No. 2, light +breeze.' + +The coastguard on duty at once made report, and one old fisherman, +who for more than half a century has kept watch on weather signs +from the East Cliff, foretold in an emphatic manner the coming of a +sudden storm. The approach of sunset was so very beautiful, so +grand in its masses of splendidly coloured clouds, that there was +quite an assemblage on the walk along the cliff in the old +churchyard to enjoy the beauty. Before the sun dipped below the +black mass of Kettleness, standing boldly athwart the western sky, +its downward way was marked by myriad clouds of every sunset colour, +flame, purple, pink, green, violet, and all the tints of gold, with +here and there masses not large, but of seemingly absolute +blackness, in all sorts of shapes, as well outlined as colossal +silhouettes. The experience was not lost on the painters, and +doubtless some of the sketches of the 'Prelude to the Great Storm' +will grace the R. A and R. I. walls in May next. + +More than one captain made up his mind then and there that his +'cobble' or his 'mule', as they term the different classes of boats, +would remain in the harbour till the storm had passed. The wind +fell away entirely during the evening, and at midnight there was a +dead calm, a sultry heat, and that prevailing intensity which, on +the approach of thunder, affects persons of a sensitive nature. + +There were but few lights in sight at sea, for even the coasting +steamers, which usually hug the shore so closely, kept well to +seaward, and but few fishing boats were in sight. The only sail +noticeable was a foreign schooner with all sails set, which was +seemingly going westwards. The foolhardiness or ignorance of her +officers was a prolific theme for comment whilst she remained in +sight, and efforts were made to signal her to reduce sail in the +face of her danger. Before the night shut down she was seen with +sails idly flapping as she gently rolled on the undulating swell of +the sea. + +"As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean." + +Shortly before ten o'clock the stillness of the air grew quite +oppressive, and the silence was so marked that the bleating of a +sheep inland or the barking of a dog in the town was distinctly +heard, and the band on the pier, with its lively French air, was +like a dischord in the great harmony of nature's silence. A little +after midnight came a strange sound from over the sea, and high +overhead the air began to carry a strange, faint, hollow booming. + +Then without warning the tempest broke. With a rapidity which, at +the time, seemed incredible, and even afterwards is impossible to +realize, the whole aspect of nature at once became convulsed. The +waves rose in growing fury, each over-topping its fellow, till in a +very few minutes the lately glassy sea was like a roaring and +devouring monster. White-crested waves beat madly on the level +sands and rushed up the shelving cliffs. Others broke over the +piers, and with their spume swept the lanthorns of the lighthouses +which rise from the end of either pier of Whitby Harbour. + +The wind roared like thunder, and blew with such force that it was +with difficulty that even strong men kept their feet, or clung with +grim clasp to the iron stanchions. It was found necessary to clear +the entire pier from the mass of onlookers, or else the fatalities +of the night would have increased manifold. To add to the +difficulties and dangers of the time, masses of sea-fog came +drifting inland. White, wet clouds, which swept by in ghostly +fashion, so dank and damp and cold that it needed but little effort +of imagination to think that the spirits of those lost at sea were +touching their living brethren with the clammy hands of death, and +many a one shuddered as the wreaths of sea-mist swept by. + +At times the mist cleared, and the sea for some distance could be +seen in the glare of the lightning, which came thick and fast, +followed by such peals of thunder that the whole sky overhead seemed +trembling under the shock of the footsteps of the storm. + +Some of the scenes thus revealed were of immeasurable grandeur and +of absorbing interest. The sea, running mountains high, threw +skywards with each wave mighty masses of white foam, which the +tempest seemed to snatch at and whirl away into space. Here and +there a fishing boat, with a rag of sail, running madly for shelter +before the blast, now and again the white wings of a storm-tossed +seabird. On the summit of the East Cliff the new searchlight was +ready for experiment, but had not yet been tried. The officers in +charge of it got it into working order, and in the pauses of +onrushing mist swept with it the surface of the sea. Once or twice +its service was most effective, as when a fishing boat, with gunwale +under water, rushed into the harbour, able, by the guidance of the +sheltering light, to avoid the danger of dashing against the piers. +As each boat achieved the safety of the port there was a shout of +joy from the mass of people on the shore, a shout which for a moment +seemed to cleave the gale and was then swept away in its rush. + +Before long the searchlight discovered some distance away a schooner +with all sails set, apparently the same vessel which had been +noticed earlier in the evening. The wind had by this time backed to +the east, and there was a shudder amongst the watchers on the cliff +as they realized the terrible danger in which she now was. + +Between her and the port lay the great flat reef on which so many +good ships have from time to time suffered, and, with the wind +blowing from its present quarter, it would be quite impossible that +she should fetch the entrance of the harbour. + +It was now nearly the hour of high tide, but the waves were so great +that in their troughs the shallows of the shore were almost visible, +and the schooner, with all sails set, was rushing with such speed +that, in the words of one old salt, "she must fetch up somewhere, if +it was only in hell". Then came another rush of sea-fog, greater +than any hitherto, a mass of dank mist, which seemed to close on all +things like a gray pall, and left available to men only the organ of +hearing, for the roar of the tempest, and the crash of the thunder, +and the booming of the mighty billows came through the damp oblivion +even louder than before. The rays of the searchlight were kept fixed +on the harbour mouth across the East Pier, where the shock was +expected, and men waited breathless. + +The wind suddenly shifted to the northeast, and the remnant of the +sea fog melted in the blast. And then, mirabile dictu, between the +piers, leaping from wave to wave as it rushed at headlong speed, +swept the strange schooner before the blast, with all sail set, and +gained the safety of the harbour. The searchlight followed her, and +a shudder ran through all who saw her, for lashed to the helm was a +corpse, with drooping head, which swung horribly to and fro at each +motion of the ship. No other form could be seen on the deck at all. + +A great awe came on all as they realised that the ship, as if by a +miracle, had found the harbour, unsteered save by the hand of a dead +man! However, all took place more quickly than it takes to write +these words. The schooner paused not, but rushing across the +harbour, pitched herself on that accumulation of sand and gravel +washed by many tides and many storms into the southeast corner of +the pier jutting under the East Cliff, known locally as Tate Hill +Pier. + +There was of course a considerable concussion as the vessel drove up +on the sand heap. Every spar, rope, and stay was strained, and some +of the 'top-hammer' came crashing down. But, strangest of all, the +very instant the shore was touched, an immense dog sprang up on deck +from below, as if shot up by the concussion, and running forward, +jumped from the bow on the sand. + +Making straight for the steep cliff, where the churchyard hangs over +the laneway to the East Pier so steeply that some of the flat +tombstones, thruffsteans or through-stones, as they call them in +Whitby vernacular, actually project over where the sustaining cliff +has fallen away, it disappeared in the darkness, which seemed +intensified just beyond the focus of the searchlight. + +It so happened that there was no one at the moment on Tate Hill +Pier, as all those whose houses are in close proximity were either +in bed or were out on the heights above. Thus the coastguard on +duty on the eastern side of the harbour, who at once ran down to the +little pier, was the first to climb aboard. The men working the +searchlight, after scouring the entrance of the harbour without +seeing anything, then turned the light on the derelict and kept it +there. The coastguard ran aft, and when he came beside the wheel, +bent over to examine it, and recoiled at once as though under some +sudden emotion. This seemed to pique general curiosity, and quite a +number of people began to run. + +It is a good way round from the West Cliff by the Draw-bridge to +Tate Hill Pier, but your correspondent is a fairly good runner, and +came well ahead of the crowd. When I arrived, however, I found +already assembled on the pier a crowd, whom the coastguard and +police refused to allow to come on board. By the courtesy of the +chief boatman, I was, as your correspondent, permitted to climb on +deck, and was one of a small group who saw the dead seaman whilst +actually lashed to the wheel. + +It was no wonder that the coastguard was surprised, or even awed, +for not often can such a sight have been seen. The man was simply +fastened by his hands, tied one over the other, to a spoke of the +wheel. Between the inner hand and the wood was a crucifix, the set +of beads on which it was fastened being around both wrists and +wheel, and all kept fast by the binding cords. The poor fellow may +have been seated at one time, but the flapping and buffeting of the +sails had worked through the rudder of the wheel and had dragged him +to and fro, so that the cords with which he was tied had cut the +flesh to the bone. + +Accurate note was made of the state of things, and a doctor, Surgeon +J. M. Caffyn, of 33, East Elliot Place, who came immediately after +me, declared, after making examination, that the man must have been +dead for quite two days. + +In his pocket was a bottle, carefully corked, empty save for +a little roll of paper, which proved to be the addendum to +the log. + +The coastguard said the man must have tied up his own hands, +fastening the knots with his teeth. The fact that a coastguard was +the first on board may save some complications later on, in the +Admiralty Court, for coastguards cannot claim the salvage which is +the right of the first civilian entering on a derelict. Already, +however, the legal tongues are wagging, and one young law student is +loudly asserting that the rights of the owner are already completely +sacrificed, his property being held in contravention of the statues +of mortmain, since the tiller, as emblemship, if not proof, of +delegated possession, is held in a dead hand. + +It is needless to say that the dead steersman has been reverently +removed from the place where he held his honourable watch and ward +till death, a steadfastness as noble as that of the young +Casabianca, and placed in the mortuary to await inquest. + +Already the sudden storm is passing, and its fierceness is +abating. Crowds are scattering backward, and the sky is +beginning to redden over the Yorkshire wolds. + +I shall send, in time for your next issue, further details +of the derelict ship which found her way so miraculously +into harbour in the storm. + + +9 August.--The sequel to the strange arrival of the derelict in the +storm last night is almost more startling than the thing itself. It +turns out that the schooner is Russian from Varna, and is called the +Demeter. She is almost entirely in ballast of silver sand, with +only a small amount of cargo, a number of great wooden boxes filled +with mould. + +This cargo was consigned to a Whitby solicitor, Mr. S.F. Billington, +of 7, The Crescent, who this morning went aboard and took formal +possession of the goods consigned to him. + +The Russian consul, too, acting for the charter-party, took formal +possession of the ship, and paid all harbour dues, etc. + +Nothing is talked about here today except the strange coincidence. +The officials of the Board of Trade have been most exacting in +seeing that every compliance has been made with existing +regulations. As the matter is to be a 'nine days wonder', they are +evidently determined that there shall be no cause of other +complaint. + +A good deal of interest was abroad concerning the dog which landed +when the ship struck, and more than a few of the members of the +S.P.C.A., which is very strong in Whitby, have tried to befriend the +animal. To the general disappointment, however, it was not to be +found. It seems to have disappeared entirely from the town. It may +be that it was frightened and made its way on to the moors, where it +is still hiding in terror. + +There are some who look with dread on such a possibility, lest later +on it should in itself become a danger, for it is evidently a fierce +brute. Early this morning a large dog, a half-bred mastiff +belonging to a coal merchant close to Tate Hill Pier, was found dead +in the roadway opposite its master's yard. It had been fighting, +and manifestly had had a savage opponent, for its throat was torn +away, and its belly was slit open as if with a savage claw. + +Later.--By the kindness of the Board of Trade inspector, I have been +permitted to look over the log book of the Demeter, which was in +order up to within three days, but contained nothing of special +interest except as to facts of missing men. The greatest interest, +however, is with regard to the paper found in the bottle, which was +today produced at the inquest. And a more strange narrative than +the two between them unfold it has not been my lot to come across. + +As there is no motive for concealment, I am permitted to use them, +and accordingly send you a transcript, simply omitting technical +details of seamanship and supercargo. It almost seems as though the +captain had been seized with some kind of mania before he had got +well into blue water, and that this had developed persistently +throughout the voyage. Of course my statement must be taken cum +grano, since I am writing from the dictation of a clerk of the +Russian consul, who kindly translated for me, time being short. + + + + LOG OF THE "DEMETER" Varna to Whitby + + + Written 18 July, things so strange happening, that I shall + keep accurate note henceforth till we land. + + + On 6 July we finished taking in cargo, silver sand and boxes + of earth. At noon set sail. East wind, fresh. Crew, five + hands . . . two mates, cook, and myself, (captain). + + + On 11 July at dawn entered Bosphorus. Boarded by Turkish + Customs officers. Backsheesh. All correct. Under way at + 4 p.m. + + + On 12 July through Dardanelles. More Customs officers and + flagboat of guarding squadron. Backsheesh again. Work of + officers thorough, but quick. Want us off soon. At dark + passed into Archipelago. + + + On 13 July passed Cape Matapan. Crew dissatisfied about + something. Seemed scared, but would not speak out. + + + On 14 July was somewhat anxious about crew. Men all steady + fellows, who sailed with me before. Mate could not make out what + was wrong. They only told him there was SOMETHING, and crossed + themselves. Mate lost temper with one of them that day and struck + him. Expected fierce quarrel, but all was quiet. + + + On 16 July mate reported in the morning that one of the + crew, Petrofsky, was missing. Could not account for it. + Took larboard watch eight bells last night, was relieved by + Amramoff, but did not go to bunk. Men more downcast than + ever. All said they expected something of the kind, but + would not say more than there was SOMETHING aboard. Mate + getting very impatient with them. Feared some trouble + ahead. + + + On 17 July, yesterday, one of the men, Olgaren, came to my cabin, + and in an awestruck way confided to me that he thought there was a + strange man aboard the ship. He said that in his watch he had + been sheltering behind the deckhouse, as there was a rain storm, + when he saw a tall, thin man, who was not like any of the crew, + come up the companionway, and go along the deck forward and + disappear. He followed cautiously, but when he got to bows found + no one, and the hatchways were all closed. He was in a panic of + superstitious fear, and I am afraid the panic may spread. To + allay it, I shall today search the entire ship carefully from stem + to stern. + + + Later in the day I got together the whole crew, and told them, as + they evidently thought there was some one in the ship, we would + search from stem to stern. First mate angry, said it was folly, + and to yield to such foolish ideas would demoralise the men, said + he would engage to keep them out of trouble with the handspike. I + let him take the helm, while the rest began a thorough search, all + keeping abreast, with lanterns. We left no corner unsearched. As + there were only the big wooden boxes, there were no odd corners + where a man could hide. Men much relieved when search over, and + went back to work cheerfully. First mate scowled, but said + nothing. + + + 22 July.--Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy + with sails, no time to be frightened. Men seem to have + forgotten their dread. Mate cheerful again, and all on + good terms. Praised men for work in bad weather. Passed + Gibraltar and out through Straits. All well. + + + 24 July.--There seems some doom over this ship. Already a hand + short, and entering the Bay of Biscay with wild weather ahead, and + yet last night another man lost, disappeared. Like the first, he + came off his watch and was not seen again. Men all in a panic of + fear, sent a round robin, asking to have double watch, as they + fear to be alone. Mate angry. Fear there will be some trouble, + as either he or the men will do some violence. + + + 28 July.--Four days in hell, knocking about in a sort of + maelstrom, and the wind a tempest. No sleep for any one. + Men all worn out. Hardly know how to set a watch, since no + one fit to go on. Second mate volunteered to steer and + watch, and let men snatch a few hours sleep. Wind abating, + seas still terrific, but feel them less, as ship is + steadier. + + + 29 July.--Another tragedy. Had single watch tonight, as crew too + tired to double. When morning watch came on deck could find no + one except steersman. Raised outcry, and all came on deck. + Thorough search, but no one found. Are now without second mate, + and crew in a panic. Mate and I agreed to go armed henceforth and + wait for any sign of cause. + + + 30 July.--Last night. Rejoiced we are nearing England. Weather + fine, all sails set. Retired worn out, slept soundly, awakened by + mate telling me that both man of watch and steersman missing. + Only self and mate and two hands left to work ship. + + 1 August.--Two days of fog, and not a sail sighted. Had hoped + when in the English Channel to be able to signal for help or get + in somewhere. Not having power to work sails, have to run before + wind. Dare not lower, as could not raise them again. We seem to + be drifting to some terrible doom. Mate now more demoralised than + either of men. His stronger nature seems to have worked inwardly + against himself. Men are beyond fear, working stolidly and + patiently, with minds made up to worst. They are Russian, he + Roumanian. + + 2 August, midnight.--Woke up from few minutes sleep by hearing a + cry, seemingly outside my port. Could see nothing in fog. Rushed + on deck, and ran against mate. Tells me he heard cry and ran, but + no sign of man on watch. One more gone. Lord, help us! Mate + says we must be past Straits of Dover, as in a moment of fog + lifting he saw North Foreland, just as he heard the man cry out. + If so we are now off in the North Sea, and only God can guide us + in the fog, which seems to move with us, and God seems to have + deserted us. + + + 3 August.--At midnight I went to relieve the man at the + wheel and when I got to it found no one there. The wind + was steady, and as we ran before it there was no yawing. I + dared not leave it, so shouted for the mate. After a few + seconds, he rushed up on deck in his flannels. He looked + wild-eyed and haggard, and I greatly fear his reason has + given way. He came close to me and whispered hoarsely, + with his mouth to my ear, as though fearing the very air + might hear. "It is here. I know it now. On the watch + last night I saw It, like a man, tall and thin, and ghastly + pale. It was in the bows, and looking out. I crept behind + It, and gave it my knife, but the knife went through It, + empty as the air." And as he spoke he took the knife and + drove it savagely into space. Then he went on, "But It is + here, and I'll find It. It is in the hold, perhaps in one + of those boxes. I'll unscrew them one by one and see. You + work the helm." And with a warning look and his finger on + his lip, he went below. There was springing up a choppy + wind, and I could not leave the helm. I saw him come out + on deck again with a tool chest and lantern, and go down + the forward hatchway. He is mad, stark, raving mad, and + it's no use my trying to stop him. He can't hurt those big + boxes, they are invoiced as clay, and to pull them about is + as harmless a thing as he can do. So here I stay and mind + the helm, and write these notes. I can only trust in God + and wait till the fog clears. Then, if I can't steer to + any harbour with the wind that is, I shall cut down sails, + and lie by, and signal for help . . . + + It is nearly all over now. Just as I was beginning to hope + that the mate would come out calmer, for I heard him + knocking away at something in the hold, and work is good + for him, there came up the hatchway a sudden, startled + scream, which made my blood run cold, and up on the deck he + came as if shot from a gun, a raging madman, with his eyes + rolling and his face convulsed with fear. "Save me! Save + me!" he cried, and then looked round on the blanket of fog. + His horror turned to despair, and in a steady voice he + said, "You had better come too, captain, before it is too + late. He is there! I know the secret now. The sea will + save me from Him, and it is all that is left!" Before I + could say a word, or move forward to seize him, he sprang + on the bulwark and deliberately threw himself into the sea. + I suppose I know the secret too, now. It was this madman + who had got rid of the men one by one, and now he has + followed them himself. God help me! How am I to account + for all these horrors when I get to port? When I get to + port! Will that ever be? + + + 4 August.--Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce, I + know there is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I + know not. I dared not go below, I dared not leave the + helm, so here all night I stayed, and in the dimness of the + night I saw it, Him! God, forgive me, but the mate was + right to jump overboard. It was better to die like a man. + To die like a sailor in blue water, no man can object. But + I am captain, and I must not leave my ship. But I shall + baffle this fiend or monster, for I shall tie my hands to + the wheel when my strength begins to fail, and along with + them I shall tie that which He, It, dare not touch. And + then, come good wind or foul, I shall save my soul, and my + honour as a captain. I am growing weaker, and the night is + coming on. If He can look me in the face again, I may not + have time to act. . . If we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle + may be found, and those who find it may understand. If + not . . . well, then all men shall know that I have been + true to my trust. God and the Blessed Virgin and the + Saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to do his duty . . . + + +Of course the verdict was an open one. There is no evidence +to adduce, and whether or not the man himself committed the +murders there is now none to say. The folk here hold almost +universally that the captain is simply a hero, and he is to be +given a public funeral. Already it is arranged that his body +is to be taken with a train of boats up the Esk for a piece +and then brought back to Tate Hill Pier and up the abbey steps, +for he is to be buried in the churchyard on the cliff. The +owners of more than a hundred boats have already given in their +names as wishing to follow him to the grave. + +No trace has ever been found of the great dog, at which there is +much mourning, for, with public opinion in its present state, he +would, I believe, be adopted by the town. Tomorrow will see the +funeral, and so will end this one more 'mystery of the sea'. + + + +MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL + +8 August.--Lucy was very restless all night, and I too, could not +sleep. The storm was fearful, and as it boomed loudly among the +chimney pots, it made me shudder. When a sharp puff came it seemed to +be like a distant gun. Strangely enough, Lucy did not wake, but she +got up twice and dressed herself. Fortunately, each time I awoke in +time and managed to undress her without waking her, and got her back to +bed. It is a very strange thing, this sleep-walking, for as soon as +her will is thwarted in any physical way, her intention, if there be +any, disappears, and she yields herself almost exactly to the routine +of her life. + +Early in the morning we both got up and went down to the harbour to see +if anything had happened in the night. There were very few people +about, and though the sun was bright, and the air clear and fresh, the +big, grim-looking waves, that seemed dark themselves because the foam +that topped them was like snow, forced themselves in through the mouth +of the harbour, like a bullying man going through a crowd. Somehow I +felt glad that Jonathan was not on the sea last night, but on land. +But, oh, is he on land or sea? Where is he, and how? I am getting +fearfully anxious about him. If I only knew what to do, and could do +anything! + + +10 August.--The funeral of the poor sea captain today was most +touching. Every boat in the harbour seemed to be there, and the coffin +was carried by captains all the way from Tate Hill Pier up to the +churchyard. Lucy came with me, and we went early to our old seat, +whilst the cortege of boats went up the river to the Viaduct and came +down again. We had a lovely view, and saw the procession nearly all +the way. The poor fellow was laid to rest near our seat so that we +stood on it, when the time came and saw everything. + +Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She was restless and uneasy all the time, +and I cannot but think that her dreaming at night is telling on her. +She is quite odd in one thing. She will not admit to me that there is +any cause for restlessness, or if there be, she does not understand it +herself. + +There is an additional cause in that poor Mr. Swales was found dead +this morning on our seat, his neck being broken. He had evidently, as +the doctor said, fallen back in the seat in some sort of fright, for +there was a look of fear and horror on his face that the men said made +them shudder. Poor dear old man! + +Lucy is so sweet and sensitive that she feels influences more acutely +than other people do. Just now she was quite upset by a little thing +which I did not much heed, though I am myself very fond of animals. + +One of the men who came up here often to look for the boats was +followed by his dog. The dog is always with him. They are both quiet +persons, and I never saw the man angry, nor heard the dog bark. During +the service the dog would not come to its master, who was on the seat +with us, but kept a few yards off, barking and howling. Its master +spoke to it gently, and then harshly, and then angrily. But it would +neither come nor cease to make a noise. It was in a fury, with its +eyes savage, and all its hair bristling out like a cat's tail when puss +is on the war path. + +Finally the man too got angry, and jumped down and kicked the dog, and +then took it by the scruff of the neck and half dragged and half threw +it on the tombstone on which the seat is fixed. The moment it touched +the stone the poor thing began to tremble. It did not try to get away, +but crouched down, quivering and cowering, and was in such a pitiable +state of terror that I tried, though without effect, to comfort it. + +Lucy was full of pity, too, but she did not attempt to touch the dog, +but looked at it in an agonised sort of way. I greatly fear that she +is of too super sensitive a nature to go through the world without +trouble. She will be dreaming of this tonight, I am sure. The whole +agglomeration of things, the ship steered into port by a dead man, his +attitude, tied to the wheel with a crucifix and beads, the touching +funeral, the dog, now furious and now in terror, will all afford +material for her dreams. + +I think it will be best for her to go to bed tired out physically, so I +shall take her for a long walk by the cliffs to Robin Hood's Bay and +back. She ought not to have much inclination for sleep-walking then. + + + + +CHAPTER 8 + + +MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL + +Same day, 11 o'clock P.M.--Oh, but I am tired! If it were not that I +had made my diary a duty I should not open it tonight. We had a lovely +walk. Lucy, after a while, was in gay spirits, owing, I think, to some +dear cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the +lighthouse, and frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot +everything, except of course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe the +slate clean and give us a fresh start. We had a capital 'severe tea' +at Robin Hood's Bay in a sweet little old-fashioned inn, with a bow +window right over the seaweed-covered rocks of the strand. I believe +we should have shocked the 'New Woman' with our appetites. Men are +more tolerant, bless them! Then we walked home with some, or rather +many, stoppages to rest, and with our hearts full of a constant dread +of wild bulls. + +Lucy was really tired, and we intended to creep off to bed as soon as +we could. The young curate came in, however, and Mrs. Westenra asked +him to stay for supper. Lucy and I had both a fight for it with the +dusty miller. I know it was a hard fight on my part, and I am quite +heroic. I think that some day the bishops must get together and see +about breeding up a new class of curates, who don't take supper, no +matter how hard they may be pressed to, and who will know when girls +are tired. + +Lucy is asleep and breathing softly. She has more colour in her cheeks +than usual, and looks, oh so sweet. If Mr. Holmwood fell in love with +her seeing her only in the drawing room, I wonder what he would say if +he saw her now. Some of the 'New Women' writers will some day start an +idea that men and women should be allowed to see each other asleep +before proposing or accepting. But I suppose the 'New Woman' won't +condescend in future to accept. She will do the proposing herself. And +a nice job she will make of it too! There's some consolation in that. +I am so happy tonight, because dear Lucy seems better. I really +believe she has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles +with dreaming. I should be quite happy if I only knew if Jonathan . . . +God bless and keep him. + + +11 August.--Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as well write. I am +too agitated to sleep. We have had such an adventure, such an +agonizing experience. I fell asleep as soon as I had closed my diary. +. . . Suddenly I became broad awake, and sat up, with a horrible sense +of fear upon me, and of some feeling of emptiness around me. The room +was dark, so I could not see Lucy's bed. I stole across and felt for +her. The bed was empty. I lit a match and found that she was not in +the room. The door was shut, but not locked, as I had left it. I feared +to wake her mother, who has been more than usually ill lately, so threw +on some clothes and got ready to look for her. As I was leaving the +room it struck me that the clothes she wore might give me some clue to +her dreaming intention. Dressing-gown would mean house, dress outside. +Dressing-gown and dress were both in their places. "Thank God," I said +to myself, "she cannot be far, as she is only in her nightdress." + +I ran downstairs and looked in the sitting room. Not there! Then I +looked in all the other rooms of the house, with an ever-growing fear +chilling my heart. Finally, I came to the hall door and found it open. +It was not wide open, but the catch of the lock had not caught. The +people of the house are careful to lock the door every night, so I +feared that Lucy must have gone out as she was. There was no time to +think of what might happen. A vague over-mastering fear obscured all +details. + +I took a big, heavy shawl and ran out. The clock was striking one as I +was in the Crescent, and there was not a soul in sight. I ran along +the North Terrace, but could see no sign of the white figure which I +expected. At the edge of the West Cliff above the pier I looked across +the harbour to the East Cliff, in the hope or fear, I don't know which, +of seeing Lucy in our favourite seat. + +There was a bright full moon, with heavy black, driving clouds, which +threw the whole scene into a fleeting diorama of light and shade as +they sailed across. For a moment or two I could see nothing, as the +shadow of a cloud obscured St. Mary's Church and all around it. Then +as the cloud passed I could see the ruins of the abbey coming into +view, and as the edge of a narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut +moved along, the church and churchyard became gradually visible. +Whatever my expectation was, it was not disappointed, for there, on our +favourite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining +figure, snowy white. The coming of the cloud was too quick for me to +see much, for shadow shut down on light almost immediately, but it +seemed to me as though something dark stood behind the seat where the +white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, whether man or +beast, I could not tell. + +I did not wait to catch another glance, but flew down the steep steps +to the pier and along by the fish-market to the bridge, which was the +only way to reach the East Cliff. The town seemed as dead, for not a +soul did I see. I rejoiced that it was so, for I wanted no witness of +poor Lucy's condition. The time and distance seemed endless, and my +knees trembled and my breath came laboured as I toiled up the endless +steps to the abbey. I must have gone fast, and yet it seemed to me as +if my feet were weighted with lead, and as though every joint in my +body were rusty. + +When I got almost to the top I could see the seat and the white figure, +for I was now close enough to distinguish it even through the spells of +shadow. There was undoubtedly something, long and black, bending over +the half-reclining white figure. I called in fright, "Lucy! Lucy!" +and something raised a head, and from where I was I could see a white +face and red, gleaming eyes. + +Lucy did not answer, and I ran on to the entrance of the churchyard. +As I entered, the church was between me and the seat, and for a minute +or so I lost sight of her. When I came in view again the cloud had +passed, and the moonlight struck so brilliantly that I could see Lucy +half reclining with her head lying over the back of the seat. She was +quite alone, and there was not a sign of any living thing about. + +When I bent over her I could see that she was still asleep. Her lips +were parted, and she was breathing, not softly as usual with her, but +in long, heavy gasps, as though striving to get her lungs full at every +breath. As I came close, she put up her hand in her sleep and pulled +the collar of her nightdress close around her, as though she felt the +cold. I flung the warm shawl over her, and drew the edges tight around +her neck, for I dreaded lest she should get some deadly chill from the +night air, unclad as she was. I feared to wake her all at once, so, in +order to have my hands free to help her, I fastened the shawl at her +throat with a big safety pin. But I must have been clumsy in my +anxiety and pinched or pricked her with it, for by-and-by, when her +breathing became quieter, she put her hand to her throat again and +moaned. When I had her carefully wrapped up I put my shoes on her +feet, and then began very gently to wake her. + +At first she did not respond, but gradually she became more and more +uneasy in her sleep, moaning and sighing occasionally. At last, as +time was passing fast, and for many other reasons, I wished to get her +home at once, I shook her forcibly, till finally she opened her eyes +and awoke. She did not seem surprised to see me, as, of course, she +did not realize all at once where she was. + +Lucy always wakes prettily, and even at such a time, when her body must +have been chilled with cold, and her mind somewhat appalled at waking +unclad in a churchyard at night, she did not lose her grace. She +trembled a little, and clung to me. When I told her to come at once +with me home, she rose without a word, with the obedience of a child. +As we passed along, the gravel hurt my feet, and Lucy noticed me wince. +She stopped and wanted to insist upon my taking my shoes, but I would +not. However, when we got to the pathway outside the chruchyard, where +there was a puddle of water, remaining from the storm, I daubed my feet +with mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as we went +home, no one, in case we should meet any one, should notice my bare +feet. + +Fortune favoured us, and we got home without meeting a soul. Once we +saw a man, who seemed not quite sober, passing along a street in front +of us. But we hid in a door till he had disappeared up an opening such +as there are here, steep little closes, or 'wynds', as they call them +in Scotland. My heart beat so loud all the time sometimes I thought I +should faint. I was filled with anxiety about Lucy, not only for her +health, lest she should suffer from the exposure, but for her +reputation in case the story should get wind. When we got in, and had +washed our feet, and had said a prayer of thankfulness together, I +tucked her into bed. Before falling asleep she asked, even implored, +me not to say a word to any one, even her mother, about her +sleep-walking adventure. + +I hesitated at first, to promise, but on thinking of the state of her +mother's health, and how the knowledge of such a thing would fret her, +and think too, of how such a story might become distorted, nay, +infallibly would, in case it should leak out, I thought it wiser to do +so. I hope I did right. I have locked the door, and the key is tied +to my wrist, so perhaps I shall not be again disturbed. Lucy is +sleeping soundly. The reflex of the dawn is high and far over the +sea . . . + + +Same day, noon.--All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke her and seemed +not to have even changed her side. The adventure of the night does not +seem to have harmed her, on the contrary, it has benefited her, for she +looks better this morning than she has done for weeks. I was sorry to +notice that my clumsiness with the safety-pin hurt her. Indeed, it +might have been serious, for the skin of her throat was pierced. I +must have pinched up a piece of loose skin and have transfixed it, for +there are two little red points like pin-pricks, and on the band of her +nightdress was a drop of blood. When I apologised and was concerned +about it, she laughed and petted me, and said she did not even feel it. +Fortunately it cannot leave a scar, as it is so tiny. + + +Same day, night.--We passed a happy day. The air was clear, and the +sun bright, and there was a cool breeze. We took our lunch to Mulgrave +Woods, Mrs. Westenra driving by the road and Lucy and I walking by the +cliff-path and joining her at the gate. I felt a little sad myself, +for I could not but feel how absolutely happy it would have been had +Jonathan been with me. But there! I must only be patient. In the +evening we strolled in the Casino Terrace, and heard some good music by +Spohr and Mackenzie, and went to bed early. Lucy seems more restful +than she has been for some time, and fell asleep at once. I shall lock +the door and secure the key the same as before, though I do not expect +any trouble tonight. + + +12 August.--My expectations were wrong, for twice during the night I +was wakened by Lucy trying to get out. She seemed, even in her sleep, +to be a little impatient at finding the door shut, and went back to bed +under a sort of protest. I woke with the dawn, and heard the birds +chirping outside of the window. Lucy woke, too, and I was glad to see, +was even better than on the previous morning. All her old gaiety of +manner seemed to have come back, and she came and snuggled in beside me +and told me all about Arthur. I told her how anxious I was about +Jonathan, and then she tried to comfort me. Well, she succeeded +somewhat, for, though sympathy can't alter facts, it can make them more +bearable. + + +13 August.--Another quiet day, and to bed with the key on my wrist as +before. Again I awoke in the night, and found Lucy sitting up in bed, +still asleep, pointing to the window. I got up quietly, and pulling +aside the blind, looked out. It was brilliant moonlight, and the soft +effect of the light over the sea and sky, merged together in one great +silent mystery, was beautiful beyond words. Between me and the +moonlight flitted a great bat, coming and going in great whirling +circles. Once or twice it came quite close, but was, I suppose, +frightened at seeing me, and flitted away across the harbour towards +the abbey. When I came back from the window Lucy had lain down again, +and was sleeping peacefully. She did not stir again all night. + + +14 August.--On the East Cliff, reading and writing all day. Lucy seems +to have become as much in love with the spot as I am, and it is hard to +get her away from it when it is time to come home for lunch or tea or +dinner. This afternoon she made a funny remark. We were coming home +for dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from the West Pier +and stopped to look at the view, as we generally do. The setting sun, +low down in the sky, was just dropping behind Kettleness. The red +light was thrown over on the East Cliff and the old abbey, and seemed +to bathe everything in a beautiful rosy glow. We were silent for a +while, and suddenly Lucy murmured as if to herself . . . + +"His red eyes again! They are just the same." It was such an odd +expression, coming apropos of nothing, that it quite startled me. I +slewed round a little, so as to see Lucy well without seeming to stare +at her, and saw that she was in a half dreamy state, with an odd look +on her face that I could not quite make out, so I said nothing, but +followed her eyes. She appeared to be looking over at our own seat, +whereon was a dark figure seated alone. I was quite a little startled +myself, for it seemed for an instant as if the stranger had great eyes +like burning flames, but a second look dispelled the illusion. The red +sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary's Church behind our +seat, and as the sun dipped there was just sufficient change in the +refraction and reflection to make it appear as if the light moved. I +called Lucy's attention to the peculiar effect, and she became herself +with a start, but she looked sad all the same. It may have been that +she was thinking of that terrible night up there. We never refer to +it, so I said nothing, and we went home to dinner. Lucy had a headache +and went early to bed. I saw her asleep, and went out for a little +stroll myself. + +I walked along the cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet +sadness, for I was thinking of Jonathan. When coming home, it was then +bright moonlight, so bright that, though the front of our part of the +Crescent was in shadow, everything could be well seen, I threw a glance +up at our window, and saw Lucy's head leaning out. I opened my +handkerchief and waved it. She did not notice or make any movement +whatever. Just then, the moonlight crept round an angle of the +building, and the light fell on the window. There distinctly was Lucy +with her head lying up against the side of the window sill and her eyes +shut. She was fast asleep, and by her, seated on the window sill, was +something that looked like a good-sized bird. I was afraid she might +get a chill, so I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she was +moving back to her bed, fast asleep, and breathing heavily. She was +holding her hand to her throat, as though to protect if from the cold. + +I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly. I have taken care that +the door is locked and the window securely fastened. + +She looks so sweet as she sleeps, but she is paler than is her wont, +and there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like. +I fear she is fretting about something. I wish I could find out what it +is. + + +15 August.--Rose later than usual. Lucy was languid and tired, and +slept on after we had been called. We had a happy surprise at +breakfast. Arthur's father is better, and wants the marriage to come +off soon. Lucy is full of quiet joy, and her mother is glad and sorry +at once. Later on in the day she told me the cause. She is grieved to +lose Lucy as her very own, but she is rejoiced that she is soon to have +some one to protect her. Poor dear, sweet lady! She confided to me +that she has got her death warrant. She has not told Lucy, and made me +promise secrecy. Her doctor told her that within a few months, at +most, she must die, for her heart is weakening. At any time, even now, +a sudden shock would be almost sure to kill her. Ah, we were wise to +keep from her the affair of the dreadful night of Lucy's sleep-walking. + + +17 August.--No diary for two whole days. I have not had the heart to +write. Some sort of shadowy pall seems to be coming over our +happiness. No news from Jonathan, and Lucy seems to be growing weaker, +whilst her mother's hours are numbering to a close. I do not +understand Lucy's fading away as she is doing. She eats well and +sleeps well, and enjoys the fresh air, but all the time the roses in +her cheeks are fading, and she gets weaker and more languid day by day. +At night I hear her gasping as if for air. + +I keep the key of our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but +she gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open window. +Last night I found her leaning out when I woke up, and when I tried to +wake her I could not. + +She was in a faint. When I managed to restore her, she was weak as +water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles for breath. +When I asked her how she came to be at the window she shook her head +and turned away. + +I trust her feeling ill may not be from that unlucky prick of the +safety-pin. I looked at her throat just now as she lay asleep, and the +tiny wounds seem not to have healed. They are still open, and, if +anything, larger than before, and the edges of them are faintly white. +They are like little white dots with red centres. Unless they heal +within a day or two, I shall insist on the doctor seeing about them. + + + +LETTER, SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON, SOLICITORS WHITBY, +TO MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON. + +17 August + +"Dear Sirs,--Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great +Northern Railway. Same are to be delivered at Carfax, near +Purfleet, immediately on receipt at goods station King's Cross. The +house is at present empty, but enclosed please find keys, all of +which are labelled. + +"You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which form the +consignment, in the partially ruined building forming part of the +house and marked 'A' on rough diagrams enclosed. Your agent will +easily recognize the locality, as it is the ancient chapel of the +mansion. The goods leave by the train at 9:30 tonight, and will be +due at King's Cross at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon. As our client +wishes the delivery made as soon as possible, we shall be obliged by +your having teams ready at King's Cross at the time named and +forthwith conveying the goods to destination. In order to obviate +any delays possible through any routine requirements as to payment +in your departments, we enclose cheque herewith for ten pounds, +receipt of which please acknowledge. Should the charge be less than +this amount, you can return balance, if greater, we shall at once +send cheque for difference on hearing from you. You are to leave +the keys on coming away in the main hall of the house, where the +proprietor may get them on his entering the house by means of his +duplicate key. + +"Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of business courtesy +in pressing you in all ways to use the utmost expedition. + +"We are, dear Sirs, +Faithfully yours, +SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON" + + + +LETTER, MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON, +TO MESSRS. BILLINGTON & SON, WHITBY. + +21 August. + +"Dear Sirs,--We beg to acknowledge 10 pounds received and to return +cheque of 1 pound, 17s, 9d, amount of overplus, as shown in +receipted account herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance +with instructions, and keys left in parcel in main hall, as +directed. + +"We are, dear Sirs, +Yours respectfully, +Pro CARTER, PATERSON & CO." + + + +MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL. + +18 August.--I am happy today, and write sitting on the seat in the +churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept well +all night, and did not disturb me once. + +The roses seem coming back already to her cheeks, though she is still +sadly pale and wan-looking. If she were in any way anemic I could +understand it, but she is not. She is in gay spirits and full of life +and cheerfulness. All the morbid reticence seems to have passed from +her, and she has just reminded me, as if I needed any reminding, of +that night, and that it was here, on this very seat, I found her +asleep. + +As she told me she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot on the +stone slab and said, + +"My poor little feet didn't make much noise then! I daresay poor old +Mr. Swales would have told me that it was because I didn't want to wake +up Geordie." + +As she was in such a communicative humour, I asked her if she had +dreamed at all that night. + +Before she answered, that sweet, puckered look came into her forehead, +which Arthur, I call him Arthur from her habit, says he loves, and +indeed, I don't wonder that he does. Then she went on in a +half-dreaming kind of way, as if trying to recall it to herself. + +"I didn't quite dream, but it all seemed to be real. I only wanted to +be here in this spot. I don't know why, for I was afraid of something, +I don't know what. I remember, though I suppose I was asleep, passing +through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped as I went by, +and I leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling. The +whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all howling at once, as +I went up the steps. Then I had a vague memory of something long and +dark with red eyes, just as we saw in the sunset, and something very +sweet and very bitter all around me at once. And then I seemed sinking +into deep green water, and there was a singing in my ears, as I have +heard there is to drowning men, and then everything seemed passing away +from me. My soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the +air. I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under +me, and then there was a sort of agonizing feeling, as if I were in an +earthquake, and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you +do it before I felt you." + +Then she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I +listened to her breathlessly. I did not quite like it, and thought it +better not to keep her mind on the subject, so we drifted on to another +subject, and Lucy was like her old self again. When we got home the +fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really more +rosy. Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a very +happy evening together. + + +19 August.--Joy, joy, joy! Although not all joy. At last, news of +Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill, that is why he did not write. +I am not afraid to think it or to say it, now that I know. Mr. Hawkins +sent me on the letter, and wrote himself, oh so kindly. I am to leave +in the morning and go over to Jonathan, and to help to nurse him if +necessary, and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says it would not be a +bad thing if we were to be married out there. I have cried over the +good Sister's letter till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it +lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be near my heart, for he is in my +heart. My journey is all mapped out, and my luggage ready. I am only +taking one change of dress. Lucy will bring my trunk to London and +keep it till I send for it, for it may be that . . . I must write no +more. I must keep it to say to Jonathan, my husband. The letter that +he has seen and touched must comfort me till we meet. + + + +LETTER, SISTER AGATHA, HOSPITAL OF ST. JOSEPH AND +STE. MARY BUDA-PESTH, TO MISS WILLHELMINA MURRAY + +12 August, + +"Dear Madam. + +"I write by desire of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who is himself not strong +enough to write, though progressing well, thanks to God and St. +Joseph and Ste. Mary. He has been under our care for nearly six +weeks, suffering from a violent brain fever. He wishes me to convey +his love, and to say that by this post I write for him to Mr. Peter +Hawkins, Exeter, to say, with his dutiful respects, that he is sorry +for his delay, and that all of his work is completed. He will +require some few weeks' rest in our sanatorium in the hills, but +will then return. He wishes me to say that he has not sufficient +money with him, and that he would like to pay for his staying here, +so that others who need shall not be wanting for help. + +"Believe me, + +"Yours, with sympathy +and all blessings. +Sister Agatha + +"P.S.--My patient being asleep, I open this to let you know +something more. He has told me all about you, and that you are +shortly to be his wife. All blessings to you both! He has had some +fearful shock, so says our doctor, and in his delirium his ravings +have been dreadful, of wolves and poison and blood, of ghosts and +demons, and I fear to say of what. Be careful of him always that +there may be nothing to excite him of this kind for a long time to +come. The traces of such an illness as his do not lightly die away. +We should have written long ago, but we knew nothing of his friends, +and there was nothing on him, nothing that anyone could understand. +He came in the train from Klausenburg, and the guard was told by the +station master there that he rushed into the station shouting for a +ticket for home. Seeing from his violent demeanour that he was +English, they gave him a ticket for the furthest station on the way +thither that the train reached. + +"Be assured that he is well cared for. He has won all hearts by his +sweetness and gentleness. He is truly getting on well, and I have +no doubt will in a few weeks be all himself. But be careful of him +for safety's sake. There are, I pray God and St. Joseph and Ste. +Mary, many, many, happy years for you both." + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +19 August.--Strange and sudden change in Renfield last night. About +eight o'clock he began to get excited and sniff about as a dog does +when setting. The attendant was struck by his manner, and knowing my +interest in him, encouraged him to talk. He is usually respectful to +the attendant and at times servile, but tonight, the man tells me, he +was quite haughty. Would not condescend to talk with him at all. + +All he would say was, "I don't want to talk to you. You don't count +now. The master is at hand." + +The attendant thinks it is some sudden form of religious mania which +has seized him. If so, we must look out for squalls, for a strong man +with homicidal and religious mania at once might be dangerous. The +combination is a dreadful one. + +At nine o'clock I visited him myself. His attitude to me was the same +as that to the attendant. In his sublime self-feeling the difference +between myself and the attendant seemed to him as nothing. It looks +like religious mania, and he will soon think that he himself is God. + +These infinitesimal distinctions between man and man are too paltry for +an Omnipotent Being. How these madmen give themselves away! The real +God taketh heed lest a sparrow fall. But the God created from human +vanity sees no difference between an eagle and a sparrow. Oh, if men +only knew! + +For half an hour or more Renfield kept getting excited in greater and +greater degree. I did not pretend to be watching him, but I kept +strict observation all the same. All at once that shifty look came +into his eyes which we always see when a madman has seized an idea, and +with it the shifty movement of the head and back which asylum +attendants come to know so well. He became quite quiet, and went and +sat on the edge of his bed resignedly, and looked into space with +lack-luster eyes. + +I thought I would find out if his apathy were real or only assumed, and +tried to lead him to talk of his pets, a theme which had never failed +to excite his attention. + +At first he made no reply, but at length said testily, "Bother them +all! I don't care a pin about them." + +"What?" I said. "You don't mean to tell me you don't care about +spiders?" (Spiders at present are his hobby and the notebook is filling +up with columns of small figures.) + +To this he answered enigmatically, "The Bride maidens rejoice the eyes +that wait the coming of the bride. But when the bride draweth nigh, +then the maidens shine not to the eyes that are filled." + +He would not explain himself, but remained obstinately seated on his +bed all the time I remained with him. + +I am weary tonight and low in spirits. I cannot but think of Lucy, and +how different things might have been. If I don't sleep at once, +chloral, the modern Morpheus! I must be careful not to let it grow +into a habit. No, I shall take none tonight! I have thought of Lucy, +and I shall not dishonour her by mixing the two. If need be, tonight +shall be sleepless. + + +Later.--Glad I made the resolution, gladder that I kept to it. I had +lain tossing about, and had heard the clock strike only twice, when the +night watchman came to me, sent up from the ward, to say that Renfield +had escaped. I threw on my clothes and ran down at once. My patient +is too dangerous a person to be roaming about. Those ideas of his +might work out dangerously with strangers. + +The attendant was waiting for me. He said he had seen him not ten +minutes before, seemingly asleep in his bed, when he had looked through +the observation trap in the door. His attention was called by the +sound of the window being wrenched out. He ran back and saw his feet +disappear through the window, and had at once sent up for me. He was +only in his night gear, and cannot be far off. + +The attendant thought it would be more useful to watch where he should +go than to follow him, as he might lose sight of him whilst getting out +of the building by the door. He is a bulky man, and couldn't get +through the window. + +I am thin, so, with his aid, I got out, but feet foremost, and as we +were only a few feet above ground landed unhurt. + +The attendant told me the patient had gone to the left, and had taken a +straight line, so I ran as quickly as I could. As I got through the +belt of trees I saw a white figure scale the high wall which separates +our grounds from those of the deserted house. + +I ran back at once, told the watchman to get three or four men +immediately and follow me into the grounds of Carfax, in case our +friend might be dangerous. I got a ladder myself, and crossing the +wall, dropped down on the other side. I could see Renfield's figure +just disappearing behind the angle of the house, so I ran after him. On +the far side of the house I found him pressed close against the old +iron-bound oak door of the chapel. + +He was talking, apparently to some one, but I was afraid to go near +enough to hear what he was saying, lest I might frighten him, and he +should run off. + +Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked +lunatic, when the fit of escaping is upon him! After a few minutes, +however, I could see that he did not take note of anything around him, +and so ventured to draw nearer to him, the more so as my men had now +crossed the wall and were closing him in. I heard him say . . . + +"I am here to do your bidding, Master. I am your slave, and you will +reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have worshipped you long and afar +off. Now that you are near, I await your commands, and you will not +pass me by, will you, dear Master, in your distribution of good +things?" + +He is a selfish old beggar anyhow. He thinks of the loaves and fishes +even when he believes his is in a real Presence. His manias make a +startling combination. When we closed in on him he fought like a +tiger. He is immensely strong, for he was more like a wild beast than +a man. + +I never saw a lunatic in such a paroxysm of rage before, and I hope I +shall not again. It is a mercy that we have found out his strength and +his danger in good time. With strength and determination like his, he +might have done wild work before he was caged. + +He is safe now, at any rate. Jack Sheppard himself couldn't get free +from the strait waistcoat that keeps him restrained, and he's chained +to the wall in the padded room. + +His cries are at times awful, but the silences that follow are more +deadly still, for he means murder in every turn and movement. + +Just now he spoke coherent words for the first time. "I shall be +patient, Master. It is coming, coming, coming!" + +So I took the hint, and came too. I was too excited to sleep, but this +diary has quieted me, and I feel I shall get some sleep tonight. + + + + +CHAPTER 9 + + +LETTER, MINA HARKER TO LUCY WESTENRA + + +Buda-Pesth, 24 August. + +"My dearest Lucy, + +"I know you will be anxious to hear all that has happened +since we parted at the railway station at Whitby. + +"Well, my dear, I got to Hull all right, and caught the boat to +Hamburg, and then the train on here. I feel that I can hardly +recall anything of the journey, except that I knew I was coming to +Jonathan, and that as I should have to do some nursing, I had better +get all the sleep I could. I found my dear one, oh, so thin and +pale and weak-looking. All the resolution has gone out of his dear +eyes, and that quiet dignity which I told you was in his face has +vanished. He is only a wreck of himself, and he does not remember +anything that has happened to him for a long time past. At least, +he wants me to believe so, and I shall never ask. + +"He has had some terrible shock, and I fear it might tax his poor +brain if he were to try to recall it. Sister Agatha, who is a good +creature and a born nurse, tells me that he wanted her to tell me +what they were, but she would only cross herself, and say she would +never tell. That the ravings of the sick were the secrets of God, +and that if a nurse through her vocation should hear them, she +should respect her trust. + +"She is a sweet, good soul, and the next day, when she saw I was +troubled, she opened up the subject my poor dear raved about, added, +'I can tell you this much, my dear. That it was not about anything +which he has done wrong himself, and you, as his wife to be, have no +cause to be concerned. He has not forgotten you or what he owes to +you. His fear was of great and terrible things, which no mortal can +treat of.' + +"I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest my poor +dear should have fallen in love with any other girl. The idea of my +being jealous about Jonathan! And yet, my dear, let me whisper, I +felt a thrill of joy through me when I knew that no other woman was +a cause for trouble. I am now sitting by his bedside, where I can +see his face while he sleeps. He is waking! + +"When he woke he asked me for his coat, as he wanted to get +something from the pocket. I asked Sister Agatha, and she brought +all his things. I saw amongst them was his notebook, and was +going to ask him to let me look at it, for I knew that I might find +some clue to his trouble, but I suppose he must have seen my wish in +my eyes, for he sent me over to the window, saying he wanted to be +quite alone for a moment. + +"Then he called me back, and he said to me very solemnly, +'Wilhelmina', I knew then that he was in deadly earnest, for he has +never called me by that name since he asked me to marry him, 'You +know, dear, my ideas of the trust between husband and wife. There +should be no secret, no concealment. I have had a great shock, and +when I try to think of what it is I feel my head spin round, and I +do not know if it was real of the dreaming of a madman. You know I +had brain fever, and that is to be mad. The secret is here, and I +do not want to know it. I want to take up my life here, with our +marriage.' For, my dear, we had decided to be married as soon as +the formalities are complete. 'Are you willing, Wilhelmina, to +share my ignorance? Here is the book. Take it and keep it, read it +if you will, but never let me know unless, indeed, some solemn duty +should come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, +sane or mad, recorded here.' He fell back exhausted, and I put the +book under his pillow, and kissed him. I have asked Sister Agatha +to beg the Superior to let our wedding be this afternoon, and am +waiting her reply . . ." + + +"She has come and told me that the Chaplain of the English mission +church has been sent for. We are to be married in an hour, or as +soon after as Jonathan awakes." + +"Lucy, the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but very, +very happy. Jonathan woke a little after the hour, and all was +ready, and he sat up in bed, propped up with pillows. He answered +his 'I will' firmly and strong. I could hardly speak. My heart was +so full that even those words seemed to choke me. + +"The dear sisters were so kind. Please, God, I shall never, never +forget them, nor the grave and sweet responsibilities I have taken +upon me. I must tell you of my wedding present. When the chaplain +and the sisters had left me alone with my husband--oh, Lucy, it is +the first time I have written the words 'my husband'--left me alone +with my husband, I took the book from under his pillow, and wrapped +it up in white paper, and tied it with a little bit of pale blue +ribbon which was round my neck, and sealed it over the knot with +sealing wax, and for my seal I used my wedding ring. Then I kissed +it and showed it to my husband, and told him that I would keep it +so, and then it would be an outward and visible sign for us all our +lives that we trusted each other, that I would never open it unless +it were for his own dear sake or for the sake of some stern duty. +Then he took my hand in his, and oh, Lucy, it was the first time he +took his wife's hand, and said that it was the dearest thing in all +the wide world, and that he would go through all the past again to +win it, if need be. The poor dear meant to have said a part of the +past, but he cannot think of time yet, and I shall not wonder if at +first he mixes up not only the month, but the year. + +"Well, my dear, what could I say? I could only tell him that I was +the happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to +give him except myself, my life, and my trust, and that with these +went my love and duty for all the days of my life. And, my dear, +when he kissed me, and drew me to him with his poor weak hands, it +was like a solemn pledge between us. + +"Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is not only +because it is all sweet to me, but because you have been, and are, +very dear to me. It was my privilege to be your friend and guide +when you came from the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life. +I want you to see now, and with the eyes of a very happy wife, +whither duty has led me, so that in your own married life you too +may be all happy, as I am. My dear, please Almighty God, your life +may be all it promises, a long day of sunshine, with no harsh wind, +no forgetting duty, no distrust. I must not wish you no pain, for +that can never be, but I do hope you will be always as happy as I am +now. Goodbye, my dear. I shall post this at once, and perhaps, +write you very soon again. I must stop, for Jonathan is waking. I +must attend my husband! + +"Your ever-loving +Mina Harker." + + + +LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA HARKER. + +Whitby, 30 August. + +"My dearest Mina, + +"Oceans of love and millions of kisses, and may you soon be in your +own home with your husband. I wish you were coming home soon enough +to stay with us here. The strong air would soon restore Jonathan. +It has quite restored me. I have an appetite like a cormorant, am +full of life, and sleep well. You will be glad to know that I have +quite given up walking in my sleep. I think I have not stirred out +of my bed for a week, that is when I once got into it at night. +Arthur says I am getting fat. By the way, I forgot to tell you that +Arthur is here. We have such walks and drives, and rides, and +rowing, and tennis, and fishing together, and I love him more than +ever. He tells me that he loves me more, but I doubt that, for at +first he told me that he couldn't love me more than he did then. +But this is nonsense. There he is, calling to me. So no more just +at present from your loving, + +"Lucy. + +"P.S.--Mother sends her love. She seems better, poor dear. + +"P.P.S.--We are to be married on 28 September." + + + +DR. SEWARDS DIARY + +20 August.--The case of Renfield grows even more interesting. He has +now so far quieted that there are spells of cessation from his +passion. For the first week after his attack he was perpetually +violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and +kept murmuring to himself. "Now I can wait. Now I can wait." + +The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at +him. He was still in the strait waistcoat and in the padded room, but +the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something +of their old pleading. I might almost say, cringing, softness. I was +satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved. +The attendants hesitated, but finally carried out my wishes without +protest. + +It was a strange thing that the patient had humour enough to see their +distrust, for, coming close to me, he said in a whisper, all the while +looking furtively at them, "They think I could hurt you! Fancy me +hurting you! The fools!" + +It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself disassociated +even in the mind of this poor madman from the others, but all the same +I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in +common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together. Or +has he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well being is +needful to Him? I must find out later on. Tonight he will not speak. +Even the offer of a kitten or even a full-grown cat will not tempt +him. + +He will only say, "I don't take any stock in cats. I have more to +think of now, and I can wait. I can wait." + +After a while I left him. The attendant tells me that he was quiet +until just before dawn, and that then he began to get uneasy, and at +length violent, until at last he fell into a paroxysm which exhausted +him so that he swooned into a sort of coma. + + +. . . Three nights has the same thing happened, violent all day then +quiet from moonrise to sunrise. I wish I could get some clue to the +cause. It would almost seem as if there was some influence which came +and went. Happy thought! We shall tonight play sane wits against mad +ones. He escaped before without our help. Tonight he shall escape +with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow +in case they are required. + + +23 August.--"The expected always happens." How well Disraeli knew +life. Our bird when he found the cage open would not fly, so all our +subtle arrangements were for nought. At any rate, we have proved one +thing, that the spells of quietness last a reasonable time. We shall +in future be able to ease his bonds for a few hours each day. I have +given orders to the night attendant merely to shut him in the padded +room, when once he is quiet, until the hour before sunrise. The poor +soul's body will enjoy the relief even if his mind cannot appreciate +it. Hark! The unexpected again! I am called. The patient has once +more escaped. + + +Later.--Another night adventure. Renfield artfully waited until the +attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then he dashed out past +him and flew down the passage. I sent word for the attendants to +follow. Again he went into the grounds of the deserted house, and we +found him in the same place, pressed against the old chapel door. +When he saw me he became furious, and had not the attendants seized +him in time, he would have tried to kill me. As we were holding him a +strange thing happened. He suddenly redoubled his efforts, and then +as suddenly grew calm. I looked round instinctively, but could see +nothing. Then I caught the patient's eye and followed it, but could +trace nothing as it looked into the moonlight sky, except a big bat, +which was flapping its silent and ghostly way to the west. Bats +usually wheel about, but this one seemed to go straight on, as if it +knew where it was bound for or had some intention of its own. + +The patient grew calmer every instant, and presently said, "You +needn't tie me. I shall go quietly!" Without trouble, we came back +to the house. I feel there is something ominous in his calm, and +shall not forget this night. + + + +LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY + +Hillingham, 24 August.--I must imitate Mina, and keep writing things +down. Then we can have long talks when we do meet. I wonder when it +will be. I wish she were with me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last +night I seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps +it is the change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and +horrid to me, for I can remember nothing. But I am full of vague +fear, and I feel so weak and worn out. When Arthur came to lunch he +looked quite grieved when he saw me, and I hadn't the spirit to try to +be cheerful. I wonder if I could sleep in mother's room tonight. I +shall make an excuse to try. + + +25 August.--Another bad night. Mother did not seem to take to my +proposal. She seems not too well herself, and doubtless she fears to +worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded for a while, but when +the clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so I must have been +falling asleep. There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the +window, but I did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I suppose I +must have fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I wish I could remember +them. This morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly pale, and +my throat pains me. It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I +don't seem to be getting air enough. I shall try to cheer up when +Arthur comes, or else I know he will be miserable to see me so. + + + +LETTER, ARTHUR TO DR. SEWARD + +"Albemarle Hotel, 31 August + +"My dear Jack, + +"I want you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill, that is she has no +special disease, but she looks awful, and is getting worse every +day. I have asked her if there is any cause, I not dare to ask her +mother, for to disturb the poor lady's mind about her daughter in +her present state of health would be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has +confided to me that her doom is spoken, disease of the heart, though +poor Lucy does not know it yet. I am sure that there is something +preying on my dear girl's mind. I am almost distracted when I think +of her. To look at her gives me a pang. I told her I should ask +you to see her, and though she demurred at first, I know why, old +fellow, she finally consented. It will be a painful task for you, I +know, old friend, but it is for her sake, and I must not hesitate to +ask, or you to act. You are to come to lunch at Hillingham +tomorrow, two o'clock, so as not to arouse any suspicion in Mrs. +Westenra, and after lunch Lucy will take an opportunity of being +alone with you. I am filled with anxiety, and want to consult with +you alone as soon as I can after you have seen her. Do not fail! + +"Arthur." + + + +TELEGRAM, ARTHUR HOLMWOOD TO SEWARD + +1 September + +"Am summoned to see my father, who is worse. Am writing. Write +me fully by tonight's post to Ring. Wire me if necessary." + + + +LETTER FROM DR. SEWARD TO ARTHUR HOLMWOOD + +2 September + +"My dear old fellow, + +"With regard to Miss Westenra's health I hasten to let you know at +once that in my opinion there is not any functional disturbance or +any malady that I know of. At the same time, I am not by any means +satisfied with her appearance. She is woefully different from what +she was when I saw her last. Of course you must bear in mind that I +did not have full opportunity of examination such as I should wish. +Our very friendship makes a little difficulty which not even medical +science or custom can bridge over. I had better tell you exactly +what happened, leaving you to draw, in a measure, your own +conclusions. I shall then say what I have done and propose doing. + +"I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her mother was +present, and in a few seconds I made up my mind that she was trying +all she knew to mislead her mother and prevent her from being +anxious. I have no doubt she guesses, if she does not know, what +need of caution there is. + +"We lunched alone, and as we all exerted ourselves to be cheerful, +we got, as some kind of reward for our labours, some real +cheerfulness amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra went to lie down, and +Lucy was left with me. We went into her boudoir, and till we got +there her gaiety remained, for the servants were coming and going. + +"As soon as the door was closed, however, the mask fell from her +face, and she sank down into a chair with a great sigh, and hid her +eyes with her hand. When I saw that her high spirits had failed, I +at once took advantage of her reaction to make a diagnosis. + +"She said to me very sweetly, 'I cannot tell you how I loathe +talking about myself.' I reminded her that a doctor's confidence +was sacred, but that you were grievously anxious about her. She +caught on to my meaning at once, and settled that matter in a word. +'Tell Arthur everything you choose. I do not care for myself, but +for him!' So I am quite free. + +"I could easily see that she was somewhat bloodless, but I could not +see the usual anemic signs, and by the chance, I was able to test +the actual quality of her blood, for in opening a window which was +stiff a cord gave way, and she cut her hand slightly with broken +glass. It was a slight matter in itself, but it gave me an evident +chance, and I secured a few drops of the blood and have analysed +them. + +"The qualitative analysis give a quite normal condition, and shows, +I should infer, in itself a vigorous state of health. In other +physical matters I was quite satisfied that there is no need for +anxiety, but as there must be a cause somewhere, I have come to the +conclusion that it must be something mental. + +"She complains of difficulty breathing satisfactorily at times, and +of heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but +regarding which she can remember nothing. She says that as a child, +she used to walk in her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit +came back, and that once she walked out in the night and went to +East Cliff, where Miss Murray found her. But she assures me that of +late the habit has not returned. + +"I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of. I have +written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of +Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in +the world. I have asked him to come over, and as you told me that +all things were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him who +you are and your relations to Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow, +is in obedience to your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy to +do anything I can for her. + +"Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal +reason, so no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his +wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows +what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a +philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced +scientists of his day, and he has, I believe, an absolutely open +mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and +indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration exalted from +virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats, +these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for +mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide +as his all-embracing sympathy. I tell you these facts that you may +know why I have such confidence in him. I have asked him to come at +once. I shall see Miss Westenra tomorrow again. She is to meet me +at the Stores, so that I may not alarm her mother by too early a +repetition of my call. + +"Yours always." + +John Seward + + + + +LETTER, ABRAHAM VAN HELSING, MD, DPh, D. Lit, ETC, ETC, TO DR. SEWARD + +2 September. + +"My good Friend, + +"When I received your letter I am already coming to you. By good +fortune I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those who +have trusted me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those who +have trusted, for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those +he holds dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck from +my wound so swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that knife that +our other friend, too nervous, let slip, you did more for him when +he wants my aids and you call for them than all his great fortune +could do. But it is pleasure added to do for him, your friend, it +is to you that I come. Have near at hand, and please it so arrange +that we may see the young lady not too late on tomorrow, for it is +likely that I may have to return here that night. But if need be I +shall come again in three days, and stay longer if it must. Till +then goodbye, my friend John. + +"Van Helsing." + + + +LETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD + +3 September + +"My dear Art, + +"Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me to Hillingham, +and found that, by Lucy's discretion, her mother was lunching out, +so that we were alone with her. + +"Van Helsing made a very careful examination of the patient. He is +to report to me, and I shall advise you, for of course I was not +present all the time. He is, I fear, much concerned, but says he +must think. When I told him of our friendship and how you trust to +me in the matter, he said, 'You must tell him all you think. Tell +him what I think, if you can guess it, if you will. Nay, I am +not jesting. This is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.' I +asked what he meant by that, for he was very serious. This was when +we had come back to town, and he was having a cup of tea before +starting on his return to Amsterdam. He would not give me any +further clue. You must not be angry with me, Art, because his very +reticence means that all his brains are working for her good. He +will speak plainly enough when the time comes, be sure. So I told +him I would simply write an account of our visit, just as if I were +doing a descriptive special article for THE DAILY TELEGRAPH. He +seemed not to notice, but remarked that the smuts of London were not +quite so bad as they used to be when he was a student here. I am to +get his report tomorrow if he can possibly make it. In any case I +am to have a letter. + +"Well, as to the visit, Lucy was more cheerful than on the day I +first saw her, and certainly looked better. She had lost something +of the ghastly look that so upset you, and her breathing was normal. +She was very sweet to the Professor (as she always is), and tried to +make him feel at ease, though I could see the poor girl was making a +hard struggle for it. + +"I believe Van Helsing saw it, too, for I saw the quick look +under his bushy brows that I knew of old. Then he began to +chat of all things except ourselves and diseases and with +such an infinite geniality that I could see poor Lucy's +pretense of animation merge into reality. Then, without +any seeming change, he brought the conversation gently round +to his visit, and suavely said, + +"'My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure because you are +so much beloved. That is much, my dear, even were there that which +I do not see. They told me you were down in the spirit, and that +you were of a ghastly pale. To them I say "Pouf!"' And he snapped +his fingers at me and went on. 'But you and I shall show them how +wrong they are. How can he,' and he pointed at me with the same +look and gesture as that with which he pointed me out in his class, +on, or rather after, a particular occasion which he never fails to +remind me of, 'know anything of a young ladies? He has his madmen +to play with, and to bring them back to happiness, and to those that +love them. It is much to do, and, oh, but there are rewards in that +we can bestow such happiness. But the young ladies! He has no wife +nor daughter, and the young do not tell themselves to the young, but +to the old, like me, who have known so many sorrows and the causes +of them. So, my dear, we will send him away to smoke the cigarette +in the garden, whiles you and I have little talk all to ourselves.' +I took the hint, and strolled about, and presently the professor +came to the window and called me in. He looked grave, but said, 'I +have made careful examination, but there is no functional cause. +With you I agree that there has been much blood lost, it has been +but is not. But the conditions of her are in no way anemic. I have +asked her to send me her maid, that I may ask just one or two +questions, that so I may not chance to miss nothing. I know well +what she will say. And yet there is cause. There is always cause +for everything. I must go back home and think. You must send me +the telegram every day, and if there be cause I shall come again. +The disease, for not to be well is a disease, interest me, and the +sweet, young dear, she interest me too. She charm me, and for her, +if not for you or disease, I come.' + +"As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when we were +alone. And so now, Art, you know all I know. I shall keep stern +watch. I trust your poor father is rallying. It must be a terrible +thing to you, my dear old fellow, to be placed in such a position +between two people who are both so dear to you. I know your idea of +duty to your father, and you are right to stick to it. But if need +be, I shall send you word to come at once to Lucy, so do not be +over-anxious unless you hear from me." + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +4 September.--Zoophagous patient still keeps up our interest in him. +He had only one outburst and that was yesterday at an unusual time. +Just before the stroke of noon he began to grow restless. The +attendant knew the symptoms, and at once summoned aid. Fortunately +the men came at a run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of +noon he became so violent that it took all their strength to hold him. +In about five minutes, however, he began to get more quiet, and +finally sank into a sort of melancholy, in which state he has remained +up to now. The attendant tells me that his screams whilst in the +paroxysm were really appalling. I found my hands full when I got in, +attending to some of the other patients who were frightened by him. +Indeed, I can quite understand the effect, for the sounds disturbed +even me, though I was some distance away. It is now after the dinner +hour of the asylum, and as yet my patient sits in a corner brooding, +with a dull, sullen, woe-begone look in his face, which seems rather +to indicate than to show something directly. I cannot quite +understand it. + + +Later.--Another change in my patient. At five o'clock I looked in on +him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to be. +He was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his +capture by making nailmarks on the edge of the door between the ridges +of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologized for his bad +conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to +his own room, and to have his notebook again. I thought it well to +humour him, so he is back in his room with the window open. He has +the sugar of his tea spread out on the window sill, and is reaping +quite a harvest of flies. He is not now eating them, but putting them +into a box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of his +room to find a spider. I tried to get him to talk about the past few +days, for any clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to me, but +he would not rise. For a moment or two he looked very sad, and said +in a sort of far away voice, as though saying it rather to himself +than to me. + +"All over! All over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now unless +I do it myself!" Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he +said, "Doctor, won't you be very good to me and let me have a little +more sugar? I think it would be very good for me." + +"And the flies?" I said. + +"Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies, therefore I like +it." And there are people who know so little as to think that madmen do +not argue. I procured him a double supply, and left him as happy a +man as, I suppose, any in the world. I wish I could fathom his mind. + + +Midnight.--Another change in him. I had been to see Miss Westenra, +whom I found much better, and had just returned, and was standing at +our own gate looking at the sunset, when once more I heard him +yelling. As his room is on this side of the house, I could hear it +better than in the morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the +wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights +and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on foul clouds +even as on foul water, and to realize all the grim sternness of my own +cold stone building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own +desolate heart to endure it all. I reached him just as the sun was +going down, and from his window saw the red disc sink. As it sank he +became less and less frenzied, and just as it dipped he slid from the +hands that held him, an inert mass, on the floor. It is wonderful, +however, what intellectual recuperative power lunatics have, for +within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and looked around him. I +signalled to the attendants not to hold him, for I was anxious to see +what he would do. He went straight over to the window and brushed out +the crumbs of sugar. Then he took his fly box, and emptied it +outside, and threw away the box. Then he shut the window, and +crossing over, sat down on his bed. All this surprised me, so I asked +him, "Are you going to keep flies any more?" + +"No," said he. "I am sick of all that rubbish!" He certainly is a +wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get some glimpse of his +mind or of the cause of his sudden passion. Stop. There may be a +clue after all, if we can find why today his paroxysms came on at high +noon and at sunset. Can it be that there is a malign influence of the +sun at periods which affects certain natures, as at times the moon +does others? We shall see. + + + +TELEGRAM. SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM + +"4 September.--Patient still better today." + + + +TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM + +"5 September.--Patient greatly improved. Good appetite, sleeps +naturally, good spirits, colour coming back." + + + +TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM + +"6 September.--Terrible change for the worse. Come at once. +Do not lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood till +have seen you." + + + + +CHAPTER 10 + + +LETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD + + +6 September + +"My dear Art, + +"My news today is not so good. Lucy this morning had gone back a +bit. There is, however, one good thing which has arisen from it. +Mrs. Westenra was naturally anxious concerning Lucy, and has +consulted me professionally about her. I took advantage of the +opportunity, and told her that my old master, Van Helsing, the great +specialist, was coming to stay with me, and that I would put her in +his charge conjointly with myself. So now we can come and go +without alarming her unduly, for a shock to her would mean sudden +death, and this, in Lucy's weak condition, might be disastrous to +her. We are hedged in with difficulties, all of us, my poor fellow, +but, please God, we shall come through them all right. If any need +I shall write, so that, if you do not hear from me, take it for +granted that I am simply waiting for news, In haste, + +"Yours ever," + +John Seward + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +7 September.--The first thing Van Helsing said to me when we met at +Liverpool Street was, "Have you said anything to our young friend, to +lover of her?" + +"No," I said. "I waited till I had seen you, as I said in my +telegram. I wrote him a letter simply telling him that you were +coming, as Miss Westenra was not so well, and that I should let him +know if need be." + +"Right, my friend," he said. "Quite right! Better he not know as +yet. Perhaps he will never know. I pray so, but if it be needed, +then he shall know all. And, my good friend John, let me caution you. +You deal with the madmen. All men are mad in some way or the other, +and inasmuch as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with +God's madmen too, the rest of the world. You tell not your madmen +what you do nor why you do it. You tell them not what you think. So +you shall keep knowledge in its place, where it may rest, where it may +gather its kind around it and breed. You and I shall keep as yet what +we know here, and here." He touched me on the heart and on the +forehead, and then touched himself the same way. "I have for myself +thoughts at the present. Later I shall unfold to you." + +"Why not now?" I asked. "It may do some good. We may arrive at some +decision." He looked at me and said, "My friend John, when the corn is +grown, even before it has ripened, while the milk of its mother earth +is in him, and the sunshine has not yet begun to paint him with his +gold, the husbandman he pull the ear and rub him between his rough +hands, and blow away the green chaff, and say to you, 'Look! He's +good corn, he will make a good crop when the time comes.'" + +I did not see the application and told him so. For reply he reached +over and took my ear in his hand and pulled it playfully, as he used +long ago to do at lectures, and said, "The good husbandman tell you so +then because he knows, but not till then. But you do not find the +good husbandman dig up his planted corn to see if he grow. That is +for the children who play at husbandry, and not for those who take it +as of the work of their life. See you now, friend John? I have sown +my corn, and Nature has her work to do in making it sprout, if he +sprout at all, there's some promise, and I wait till the ear begins to +swell." He broke off, for he evidently saw that I understood. Then he +went on gravely, "You were always a careful student, and your case +book was ever more full than the rest. And I trust that good habit +have not fail. Remember, my friend, that knowledge is stronger than +memory, and we should not trust the weaker. Even if you have not kept +the good practice, let me tell you that this case of our dear miss is +one that may be, mind, I say may be, of such interest to us and others +that all the rest may not make him kick the beam, as your people say. +Take then good note of it. Nothing is too small. I counsel you, put +down in record even your doubts and surmises. Hereafter it may be of +interest to you to see how true you guess. We learn from failure, not +from success!" + +When I described Lucy's symptoms, the same as before, but infinitely +more marked, he looked very grave, but said nothing. He took with him +a bag in which were many instruments and drugs, "the ghastly +paraphernalia of our beneficial trade," as he once called, in one of +his lectures, the equipment of a professor of the healing craft. + +When we were shown in, Mrs. Westenra met us. She was alarmed, but not +nearly so much as I expected to find her. Nature in one of her +beneficient moods has ordained that even death has some antidote to +its own terrors. Here, in a case where any shock may prove fatal, +matters are so ordered that, from some cause or other, the things not +personal, even the terrible change in her daughter to whom she is so +attached, do not seem to reach her. It is something like the way dame +Nature gathers round a foreign body an envelope of some insensitive +tissue which can protect from evil that which it would otherwise harm +by contact. If this be an ordered selfishness, then we should pause +before we condemn any one for the vice of egoism, for there may be +deeper root for its causes than we have knowledge of. + +I used my knowledge of this phase of spiritual pathology, and set down +a rule that she should not be present with Lucy, or think of her +illness more than was absolutely required. She assented readily, so +readily that I saw again the hand of Nature fighting for life. Van +Helsing and I were shown up to Lucy's room. If I was shocked when I +saw her yesterday, I was horrified when I saw her today. + +She was ghastly, chalkily pale. The red seemed to have gone even from +her lips and gums, and the bones of her face stood out prominently. +Her breathing was painful to see or hear. Van Helsing's face grew set +as marble, and his eyebrows converged till they almost touched over his +nose. Lucy lay motionless, and did not seem to have strength to +speak, so for a while we were all silent. Then Van Helsing beckoned +to me, and we went gently out of the room. The instant we had closed +the door he stepped quickly along the passage to the next door, which +was open. Then he pulled me quickly in with him and closed the door. +"My god!" he said. "This is dreadful. There is not time to be lost. +She will die for sheer want of blood to keep the heart's action as it +should be. There must be a transfusion of blood at once. Is it you +or me?" + +"I am younger and stronger, Professor. It must be me." + +"Then get ready at once. I will bring up my bag. I am prepared." + +I went downstairs with him, and as we were going there was a knock at +the hall door. When we reached the hall, the maid had just opened the +door, and Arthur was stepping quickly in. He rushed up to me, saying +in an eager whisper, + +"Jack, I was so anxious. I read between the lines of your letter, and +have been in an agony. The dad was better, so I ran down here to see +for myself. Is not that gentleman Dr. Van Helsing? I am so thankful +to you, sir, for coming." + +When first the Professor's eye had lit upon him, he had been angry at +his interruption at such a time, but now, as he took in his stalwart +proportions and recognized the strong young manhood which seemed to +emanate from him, his eyes gleamed. Without a pause he said to him as +he held out his hand, + +"Sir, you have come in time. You are the lover of our dear miss. She +is bad, very, very bad. Nay, my child, do not go like that." For he +suddenly grew pale and sat down in a chair almost fainting. "You are +to help her. You can do more than any that live, and your courage is +your best help." + +"What can I do?" asked Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me, and I shall do it. +My life is hers, and I would give the last drop of blood in my body for +her." + +The Professor has a strongly humorous side, and I could from old +knowledge detect a trace of its origin in his answer. + +"My young sir, I do not ask so much as that, not the last!" + +"What shall I do?" There was fire in his eyes, and his open nostrils +quivered with intent. Van Helsing slapped him on the shoulder. + +"Come!" he said. "You are a man, and it is a man we want. You are +better than me, better than my friend John." Arthur looked bewildered, +and the Professor went on by explaining in a kindly way. + +"Young miss is bad, very bad. She wants blood, and blood she must +have or die. My friend John and I have consulted, and we are about to +perform what we call transfusion of blood, to transfer from full veins +of one to the empty veins which pine for him. John was to give his +blood, as he is the more young and strong than me."--Here Arthur took +my hand and wrung it hard in silence.--"But now you are here, you are +more good than us, old or young, who toil much in the world of +thought. Our nerves are not so calm and our blood so bright than +yours!" + +Arthur turned to him and said, "If you only knew how gladly I would +die for her you would understand . . ." He stopped with a sort of +choke in his voice. + +"Good boy!" said Van Helsing. "In the not-so-far-off you will be +happy that you have done all for her you love. Come now and be +silent. You shall kiss her once before it is done, but then you must +go, and you must leave at my sign. Say no word to Madame. You know +how it is with her. There must be no shock, any knowledge of this +would be one. Come!" + +We all went up to Lucy's room. Arthur by direction remained outside. +Lucy turned her head and looked at us, but said nothing. She was not +asleep, but she was simply too weak to make the effort. Her eyes +spoke to us, that was all. + +Van Helsing took some things from his bag and laid them on a little +table out of sight. Then he mixed a narcotic, and coming over to the +bed, said cheerily, "Now, little miss, here is your medicine. Drink +it off, like a good child. See, I lift you so that to swallow is +easy. Yes." She had made the effort with success. + +It astonished me how long the drug took to act. This, in fact, marked +the extent of her weakness. The time seemed endless until sleep began +to flicker in her eyelids. At last, however, the narcotic began to +manifest its potency, and she fell into a deep sleep. When the +Professor was satisfied, he called Arthur into the room, and bade him +strip off his coat. Then he added, "You may take that one little kiss +whiles I bring over the table. Friend John, help to me!" So neither +of us looked whilst he bent over her. + +Van Helsing, turning to me, said, "He is so young and strong, and of +blood so pure that we need not defibrinate it." + +Then with swiftness, but with absolute method, Van Helsing performed +the operation. As the transfusion went on, something like life seemed +to come back to poor Lucy's cheeks, and through Arthur's growing +pallor the joy of his face seemed absolutely to shine. After a bit I +began to grow anxious, for the loss of blood was telling on Arthur, +strong man as he was. It gave me an idea of what a terrible strain +Lucy's system must have undergone that what weakened Arthur only +partially restored her. + +But the Professor's face was set, and he stood watch in hand, and with +his eyes fixed now on the patient and now on Arthur. I could hear my +own heart beat. Presently, he said in a soft voice, "Do not stir an +instant. It is enough. You attend him. I will look to her." + +When all was over, I could see how much Arthur was weakened. I +dressed the wound and took his arm to bring him away, when Van Helsing +spoke without turning round, the man seems to have eyes in the back of +his head, "The brave lover, I think, deserve another kiss, which he +shall have presently." And as he had now finished his operation, he +adjusted the pillow to the patient's head. As he did so the narrow +black velvet band which she seems always to wear round her throat, +buckled with an old diamond buckle which her lover had given her, was +dragged a little up, and showed a red mark on her throat. + +Arthur did not notice it, but I could hear the deep hiss of indrawn +breath which is one of Van Helsing's ways of betraying emotion. He +said nothing at the moment, but turned to me, saying, "Now take down +our brave young lover, give him of the port wine, and let him lie down +a while. He must then go home and rest, sleep much and eat much, that +he may be recruited of what he has so given to his love. He must not +stay here. Hold a moment! I may take it, sir, that you are anxious +of result. Then bring it with you, that in all ways the operation is +successful. You have saved her life this time, and you can go home +and rest easy in mind that all that can be is. I shall tell her all +when she is well. She shall love you none the less for what you have +done. Goodbye." + +When Arthur had gone I went back to the room. Lucy was sleeping +gently, but her breathing was stronger. I could see the counterpane +move as her breast heaved. By the bedside sat Van Helsing, looking at +her intently. The velvet band again covered the red mark. I asked +the Professor in a whisper, "What do you make of that mark on her +throat?" + +"What do you make of it?" + +"I have not examined it yet," I answered, and then and there proceeded +to loose the band. Just over the external jugular vein there were two +punctures, not large, but not wholesome looking. There was no sign of +disease, but the edges were white and worn looking, as if by some +trituration. It at once occurred to me that that this wound, or +whatever it was, might be the means of that manifest loss of blood. +But I abandoned the idea as soon as it formed, for such a thing could +not be. The whole bed would have been drenched to a scarlet with the +blood which the girl must have lost to leave such a pallor as she had +before the transfusion. + +"Well?" said Van Helsing. + +"Well," said I. "I can make nothing of it." + +The Professor stood up. "I must go back to Amsterdam tonight," he +said "There are books and things there which I want. You must remain +here all night, and you must not let your sight pass from her." + +"Shall I have a nurse?" I asked. + +"We are the best nurses, you and I. You keep watch all night. See +that she is well fed, and that nothing disturbs her. You must not +sleep all the night. Later on we can sleep, you and I. I shall be +back as soon as possible. And then we may begin." + +"May begin?" I said. "What on earth do you mean?" + +"We shall see!" he answered, as he hurried out. He came back a moment +later and put his head inside the door and said with a warning finger +held up, "Remember, she is your charge. If you leave her, and harm +befall, you shall not sleep easy hereafter!" + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--CONTINUED + +8 September.--I sat up all night with Lucy. The opiate worked itself +off towards dusk, and she waked naturally. She looked a different +being from what she had been before the operation. Her spirits even +were good, and she was full of a happy vivacity, but I could see +evidences of the absolute prostration which she had undergone. When I +told Mrs. Westenra that Dr. Van Helsing had directed that I should sit +up with her, she almost pooh-poohed the idea, pointing out her +daughter's renewed strength and excellent spirits. I was firm, +however, and made preparations for my long vigil. When her maid had +prepared her for the night I came in, having in the meantime had +supper, and took a seat by the bedside. + +She did not in any way make objection, but looked at me gratefully +whenever I caught her eye. After a long spell she seemed sinking off +to sleep, but with an effort seemed to pull herself together and shook +it off. It was apparent that she did not want to sleep, so I tackled +the subject at once. + +"You do not want to sleep?" + +"No. I am afraid." + +"Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all crave for." + +"Ah, not if you were like me, if sleep was to you a presage of +horror!" + +"A presage of horror! What on earth do you mean?" + +"I don't know. Oh, I don't know. And that is what is so terrible. +All this weakness comes to me in sleep, until I dread the very +thought." + +"But, my dear girl, you may sleep tonight. I am here watching you, +and I can promise that nothing will happen." + +"Ah, I can trust you!" she said. + +I seized the opportunity, and said, "I promise that if I see any +evidence of bad dreams I will wake you at once." + +"You will? Oh, will you really? How good you are to me. Then I will +sleep!" And almost at the word she gave a deep sigh of relief, and +sank back, asleep. + +All night long I watched by her. She never stirred, but slept on and +on in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, health-giving sleep. Her lips +were slightly parted, and her breast rose and fell with the regularity +of a pendulum. There was a smile on her face, and it was evident that +no bad dreams had come to disturb her peace of mind. + +In the early morning her maid came, and I left her in her care and took +myself back home, for I was anxious about many things. I sent a short +wire to Van Helsing and to Arthur, telling them of the excellent +result of the operation. My own work, with its manifold arrears, took +me all day to clear off. It was dark when I was able to inquire about +my zoophagous patient. The report was good. He had been quite quiet +for the past day and night. A telegram came from Van Helsing at +Amsterdam whilst I was at dinner, suggesting that I should be at +Hillingham tonight, as it might be well to be at hand, and stating +that he was leaving by the night mail and would join me early in the +morning. + + +9 September.--I was pretty tired and worn out when I got to +Hillingham. For two nights I had hardly had a wink of sleep, and my +brain was beginning to feel that numbness which marks cerebral +exhaustion. Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits. When she shook +hands with me she looked sharply in my face and said, + +"No sitting up tonight for you. You are worn out. I am quite well +again. Indeed, I am, and if there is to be any sitting up, it is I +who will sit up with you." + +I would not argue the point, but went and had my supper. Lucy came +with me, and, enlivened by her charming presence, I made an excellent +meal, and had a couple of glasses of the more than excellent port. +Then Lucy took me upstairs, and showed me a room next her own, where a +cozy fire was burning. + +"Now," she said. "You must stay here. I shall leave this door open +and my door too. You can lie on the sofa for I know that nothing +would induce any of you doctors to go to bed whilst there is a patient +above the horizon. If I want anything I shall call out, and you can +come to me at once." + +I could not but acquiesce, for I was dog tired, and could not have sat +up had I tried. So, on her renewing her promise to call me if she +should want anything, I lay on the sofa, and forgot all about +everything. + + + +LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY + +9 September.--I feel so happy tonight. I have been so miserably weak, +that to be able to think and move about is like feeling sunshine after +a long spell of east wind out of a steel sky. Somehow Arthur feels +very, very close to me. I seem to feel his presence warm about me. I +suppose it is that sickness and weakness are selfish things and turn +our inner eyes and sympathy on ourselves, whilst health and strength +give love rein, and in thought and feeling he can wander where he +wills. I know where my thoughts are. If only Arthur knew! My dear, +my dear, your ears must tingle as you sleep, as mine do waking. Oh, +the blissful rest of last night! How I slept, with that dear, good +Dr. Seward watching me. And tonight I shall not fear to sleep, since +he is close at hand and within call. Thank everybody for being so +good to me. Thank God! Goodnight Arthur. + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +10 September.--I was conscious of the Professor's hand on my head, and +started awake all in a second. That is one of the things that we +learn in an asylum, at any rate. + +"And how is our patient?" + +"Well, when I left her, or rather when she left me," I answered. + +"Come, let us see," he said. And together we went into the room. + +The blind was down, and I went over to raise it gently, whilst Van +Helsing stepped, with his soft, cat-like tread, over to the bed. + +As I raised the blind, and the morning sunlight flooded the room, I +heard the Professor's low hiss of inspiration, and knowing its rarity, +a deadly fear shot through my heart. As I passed over he moved back, +and his exclamation of horror, "Gott in Himmel!" needed no enforcement +from his agonized face. He raised his hand and pointed to the bed, +and his iron face was drawn and ashen white. I felt my knees begin to +tremble. + +There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, lay poor Lucy, more horribly +white and wan-looking than ever. Even the lips were white, and the +gums seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we sometimes see +in a corpse after a prolonged illness. + +Van Helsing raised his foot to stamp in anger, but the instinct of his +life and all the long years of habit stood to him, and he put it down +again softly. + +"Quick!" he said. "Bring the brandy." + +I flew to the dining room, and returned with the decanter. He wetted +the poor white lips with it, and together we rubbed palm and wrist and +heart. He felt her heart, and after a few moments of agonizing +suspense said, + +"It is not too late. It beats, though but feebly. All our work is +undone. We must begin again. There is no young Arthur here now. I +have to call on you yourself this time, friend John." As he spoke, he +was dipping into his bag, and producing the instruments of +transfusion. I had taken off my coat and rolled up my shirt sleeve. +There was no possibility of an opiate just at present, and no need of +one; and so, without a moment's delay, we began the operation. + +After a time, it did not seem a short time either, for the draining +away of one's blood, no matter how willingly it be given, is a +terrible feeling, Van Helsing held up a warning finger. "Do not +stir," he said. "But I fear that with growing strength she may wake, +and that would make danger, oh, so much danger. But I shall +precaution take. I shall give hypodermic injection of morphia." He +proceeded then, swiftly and deftly, to carry out his intent. + +The effect on Lucy was not bad, for the faint seemed to merge subtly +into the narcotic sleep. It was with a feeling of personal pride that +I could see a faint tinge of colour steal back into the pallid cheeks +and lips. No man knows, till he experiences it, what it is to feel +his own lifeblood drawn away into the veins of the woman he loves. + +The Professor watched me critically. "That will do," he said. +"Already?" I remonstrated. "You took a great deal more from Art." To +which he smiled a sad sort of smile as he replied, + +"He is her lover, her fiance. You have work, much work to do for her +and for others, and the present will suffice." + +When we stopped the operation, he attended to Lucy, whilst I applied +digital pressure to my own incision. I laid down, while I waited his +leisure to attend to me, for I felt faint and a little sick. By and +by he bound up my wound, and sent me downstairs to get a glass of wine +for myself. As I was leaving the room, he came after me, and half +whispered. + +"Mind, nothing must be said of this. If our young lover should turn +up unexpected, as before, no word to him. It would at once frighten +him and enjealous him, too. There must be none. So!" + +When I came back he looked at me carefully, and then said, "You are +not much the worse. Go into the room, and lie on your sofa, and rest +awhile, then have much breakfast and come here to me." + +I followed out his orders, for I knew how right and wise they were. I +had done my part, and now my next duty was to keep up my strength. I +felt very weak, and in the weakness lost something of the amazement at +what had occurred. I fell asleep on the sofa, however, wondering over +and over again how Lucy had made such a retrograde movement, and how +she could have been drained of so much blood with no sign any where to +show for it. I think I must have continued my wonder in my dreams, +for, sleeping and waking my thoughts always came back to the little +punctures in her throat and the ragged, exhausted appearance of their +edges, tiny though they were. + +Lucy slept well into the day, and when she woke she was fairly well +and strong, though not nearly so much so as the day before. When Van +Helsing had seen her, he went out for a walk, leaving me in charge, +with strict injunctions that I was not to leave her for a moment. I +could hear his voice in the hall, asking the way to the nearest +telegraph office. + +Lucy chatted with me freely, and seemed quite unconscious that +anything had happened. I tried to keep her amused and interested. +When her mother came up to see her, she did not seem to notice any +change whatever, but said to me gratefully, + +"We owe you so much, Dr. Seward, for all you have done, but you really +must now take care not to overwork yourself. You are looking pale +yourself. You want a wife to nurse and look after you a bit, that you +do!" As she spoke, Lucy turned crimson, though it was only +momentarily, for her poor wasted veins could not stand for long an +unwonted drain to the head. The reaction came in excessive pallor as +she turned imploring eyes on me. I smiled and nodded, and laid my +finger on my lips. With a sigh, she sank back amid her pillows. + +Van Helsing returned in a couple of hours, and presently said to me: +"Now you go home, and eat much and drink enough. Make yourself +strong. I stay here tonight, and I shall sit up with little miss +myself. You and I must watch the case, and we must have none other to +know. I have grave reasons. No, do not ask me. Think what you will. +Do not fear to think even the most not-improbable. Goodnight." + +In the hall two of the maids came to me, and asked if they or either +of them might not sit up with Miss Lucy. They implored me to let +them, and when I said it was Dr. Van Helsing's wish that either he or +I should sit up, they asked me quite piteously to intercede with +the 'foreign gentleman'. I was much touched by their kindness. Perhaps +it is because I am weak at present, and perhaps because it was on +Lucy's account, that their devotion was manifested. For over and over +again have I seen similar instances of woman's kindness. I got back +here in time for a late dinner, went my rounds, all well, and set this +down whilst waiting for sleep. It is coming. + + +11 September.--This afternoon I went over to Hillingham. Found Van +Helsing in excellent spirits, and Lucy much better. Shortly after I +had arrived, a big parcel from abroad came for the Professor. He +opened it with much impressment, assumed, of course, and showed a +great bundle of white flowers. + +"These are for you, Miss Lucy," he said. + +"For me? Oh, Dr. Van Helsing!" + +"Yes, my dear, but not for you to play with. These are medicines." +Here Lucy made a wry face. "Nay, but they are not to take in a +decoction or in nauseous form, so you need not snub that so charming +nose, or I shall point out to my friend Arthur what woes he may have +to endure in seeing so much beauty that he so loves so much distort. +Aha, my pretty miss, that bring the so nice nose all straight again. +This is medicinal, but you do not know how. I put him in your window, +I make pretty wreath, and hang him round your neck, so you sleep well. +Oh, yes! They, like the lotus flower, make your trouble forgotten. +It smell so like the waters of Lethe, and of that fountain of youth +that the Conquistadores sought for in the Floridas, and find him all +too late." + +Whilst he was speaking, Lucy had been examining the flowers and +smelling them. Now she threw them down saying, with half laughter, +and half disgust, + +"Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke on me. Why, +these flowers are only common garlic." + +To my surprise, Van Helsing rose up and said with all his sternness, +his iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meeting, + +"No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose in what I +do, and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for the sake +of others if not for your own." Then seeing poor Lucy scared, as she +might well be, he went on more gently, "Oh, little miss, my dear, do +not fear me. I only do for your good, but there is much virtue to you +in those so common flowers. See, I place them myself in your room. I +make myself the wreath that you are to wear. But hush! No telling to +others that make so inquisitive questions. We must obey, and silence +is a part of obedience, and obedience is to bring you strong and well +into loving arms that wait for you. Now sit still a while. Come with +me, friend John, and you shall help me deck the room with my garlic, +which is all the way from Haarlem, where my friend Vanderpool raise +herb in his glass houses all the year. I had to telegraph yesterday, +or they would not have been here." + +We went into the room, taking the flowers with us. The Professor's +actions were certainly odd and not to be found in any pharmacopeia +that I ever heard of. First he fastened up the windows and latched +them securely. Next, taking a handful of the flowers, he rubbed them +all over the sashes, as though to ensure that every whiff of air that +might get in would be laden with the garlic smell. Then with the wisp +he rubbed all over the jamb of the door, above, below, and at each +side, and round the fireplace in the same way. It all seemed +grotesque to me, and presently I said, "Well, Professor, I know you +always have a reason for what you do, but this certainly puzzles me. +It is well we have no sceptic here, or he would say that you were +working some spell to keep out an evil spirit." + +"Perhaps I am!" he answered quietly as he began to make the wreath +which Lucy was to wear round her neck. + +We then waited whilst Lucy made her toilet for the night, and when she +was in bed he came and himself fixed the wreath of garlic round her +neck. The last words he said to her were, + +"Take care you do not disturb it, and even if the room feel close, do +not tonight open the window or the door." + +"I promise," said Lucy. "And thank you both a thousand times for all +your kindness to me! Oh, what have I done to be blessed with such +friends?" + +As we left the house in my fly, which was waiting, Van Helsing said, +"Tonight I can sleep in peace, and sleep I want, two nights of travel, +much reading in the day between, and much anxiety on the day to +follow, and a night to sit up, without to wink. Tomorrow in the +morning early you call for me, and we come together to see our pretty +miss, so much more strong for my 'spell' which I have work. Ho, ho!" + +He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confidence two +nights before and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague terror. +It must have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell it to my +friend, but I felt it all the more, like unshed tears. + + + + +CHAPTER 11 + + +LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY + +12 September.--How good they all are to me. I quite love that dear +Dr. Van Helsing. I wonder why he was so anxious about these flowers. +He positively frightened me, he was so fierce. And yet he must have +been right, for I feel comfort from them already. Somehow, I do not +dread being alone tonight, and I can go to sleep without fear. I +shall not mind any flapping outside the window. Oh, the terrible +struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late, the pain of +sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, and with such unknown +horrors as it has for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives +have no fears, no dreads, to whom sleep is a blessing that comes +nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams. Well, here I am +tonight, hoping for sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play, with +'virgin crants and maiden strewments.' I never liked garlic before, +but tonight it is delightful! There is peace in its smell. I feel +sleep coming already. Goodnight, everybody. + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +13 September.--Called at the Berkeley and found Van Helsing, as usual, +up to time. The carriage ordered from the hotel was waiting. The +Professor took his bag, which he always brings with him now. + +Let all be put down exactly. Van Helsing and I arrived at Hillingham +at eight o'clock. It was a lovely morning. The bright sunshine and +all the fresh feeling of early autumn seemed like the completion of +nature's annual work. The leaves were turning to all kinds of +beautiful colours, but had not yet begun to drop from the trees. When +we entered we met Mrs. Westenra coming out of the morning room. She +is always an early riser. She greeted us warmly and said, + +"You will be glad to know that Lucy is better. The dear child is +still asleep. I looked into her room and saw her, but did not go in, +lest I should disturb her." The Professor smiled, and looked quite +jubilant. He rubbed his hands together, and said, "Aha! I thought I +had diagnosed the case. My treatment is working." + +To which she replied, "You must not take all the credit to yourself, +doctor. Lucy's state this morning is due in part to me." + +"How do you mean, ma'am?" asked the Professor. + +"Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night, and went into +her room. She was sleeping soundly, so soundly that even my coming +did not wake her. But the room was awfully stuffy. There were a lot +of those horrible, strong-smelling flowers about everywhere, and she +had actually a bunch of them round her neck. I feared that the heavy +odour would be too much for the dear child in her weak state, so I took +them all away and opened a bit of the window to let in a little fresh +air. You will be pleased with her, I am sure." + +She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually breakfasted early. +As she had spoken, I watched the Professor's face, and saw it turn +ashen gray. He had been able to retain his self-command whilst the +poor lady was present, for he knew her state and how mischievous a +shock would be. He actually smiled on her as he held open the door +for her to pass into her room. But the instant she had disappeared he +pulled me, suddenly and forcibly, into the dining room and closed the +door. + +Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing break down. He +raised his hands over his head in a sort of mute despair, and then +beat his palms together in a helpless way. Finally he sat down on a +chair, and putting his hands before his face, began to sob, with loud, +dry sobs that seemed to come from the very racking of his heart. + +Then he raised his arms again, as though appealing to the whole +universe. "God! God! God!" he said. "What have we done, what has +this poor thing done, that we are so sore beset? Is there fate +amongst us still, send down from the pagan world of old, that such +things must be, and in such way? This poor mother, all unknowing, and +all for the best as she think, does such thing as lose her daughter +body and soul, and we must not tell her, we must not even warn her, or +she die, then both die. Oh, how we are beset! How are all the powers +of the devils against us!" + +Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "Come," he said, "come, we must see and +act. Devils or no devils, or all the devils at once, it matters not. +We must fight him all the same." He went to the hall door for his +bag, and together we went up to Lucy's room. + +Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing went towards the +bed. This time he did not start as he looked on the poor face with +the same awful, waxen pallor as before. He wore a look of stern +sadness and infinite pity. + +"As I expected," he murmured, with that hissing inspiration of his +which meant so much. Without a word he went and locked the door, and +then began to set out on the little table the instruments for yet +another operation of transfusion of blood. I had long ago recognized +the necessity, and begun to take off my coat, but he stopped me with a +warning hand. "No!" he said. "Today you must operate. I shall +provide. You are weakened already." As he spoke he took off his coat +and rolled up his shirtsleeve. + +Again the operation. Again the narcotic. Again some return of colour +to the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing of healthy sleep. This +time I watched whilst Van Helsing recruited himself and rested. + +Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs. Westenra that she +must not remove anything from Lucy's room without consulting him. +That the flowers were of medicinal value, and that the breathing of +their odour was a part of the system of cure. Then he took over the +care of the case himself, saying that he would watch this night and +the next, and would send me word when to come. + +After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh and bright and +seemingly not much the worse for her terrible ordeal. + +What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder if my long habit of +life amongst the insane is beginning to tell upon my own brain. + + + +LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY + +17 September.--Four days and nights of peace. I am getting so strong +again that I hardly know myself. It is as if I had passed through +some long nightmare, and had just awakened to see the beautiful +sunshine and feel the fresh air of the morning around me. I have a +dim half remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing, +darkness in which there was not even the pain of hope to make present +distress more poignant. And then long spells of oblivion, and the +rising back to life as a diver coming up through a great press of +water. Since, however, Dr. Van Helsing has been with me, all this bad +dreaming seems to have passed away. The noises that used to frighten +me out of my wits, the flapping against the windows, the distant +voices which seemed so close to me, the harsh sounds that came from I +know not where and commanded me to do I know not what, have all +ceased. I go to bed now without any fear of sleep. I do not even try +to keep awake. I have grown quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful +arrives for me every day from Haarlem. Tonight Dr. Van Helsing is +going away, as he has to be for a day in Amsterdam. But I need not be +watched. I am well enough to be left alone. + +Thank God for Mother's sake, and dear Arthur's, and for all our +friends who have been so kind! I shall not even feel the change, for +last night Dr. Van Helsing slept in his chair a lot of the time. I +found him asleep twice when I awoke. But I did not fear to go to +sleep again, although the boughs or bats or something flapped almost +angrily against the window panes. + + + + +THE PALL MALL GAZETTE 18 September. + +THE ESCAPED WOLF PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER + +INTERVIEW WITH THE KEEPER IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS + +After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually +using the words 'PALL MALL GAZETTE' as a sort of talisman, I managed +to find the keeper of the section of the Zoological Gardens in which +the wolf department is included. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the +cottages in the enclosure behind the elephant house, and was just +sitting down to his tea when I found him. Thomas and his wife are +hospitable folk, elderly, and without children, and if the specimen +I enjoyed of their hospitality be of the average kind, their lives +must be pretty comfortable. The keeper would not enter on what he +called business until the supper was over, and we were all +satisfied. Then when the table was cleared, and he had lit his +pipe, he said, + +"Now, Sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You'll excoose +me refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjucts afore meals. I gives +the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their +tea afore I begins to arsk them questions." + +"How do you mean, ask them questions?" I queried, wishful to get him +into a talkative humor. + +"'Ittin' of them over the 'ead with a pole is one way. Scratchin' of +their ears in another, when gents as is flush wants a bit of a show-orf +to their gals. I don't so much mind the fust, the 'ittin of the +pole part afore I chucks in their dinner, but I waits till they've +'ad their sherry and kawffee, so to speak, afore I tries on with the +ear scratchin'. Mind you," he added philosophically, "there's a +deal of the same nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here's you +a-comin' and arskin' of me questions about my business, and I that +grump-like that only for your bloomin' 'arf-quid I'd 'a' seen you +blowed fust 'fore I'd answer. Not even when you arsked me sarcastic +like if I'd like you to arsk the Superintendent if you might arsk me +questions. Without offence did I tell yer to go to 'ell?" + +"You did." + +"An' when you said you'd report me for usin' obscene language that +was 'ittin' me over the 'ead. But the 'arf-quid made that all +right. I weren't a-goin' to fight, so I waited for the food, and +did with my 'owl as the wolves and lions and tigers does. But, lor' +love yer 'art, now that the old 'ooman has stuck a chunk of her +tea-cake in me, an' rinsed me out with her bloomin' old teapot, and I've +lit hup, you may scratch my ears for all you're worth, and won't +even get a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions. I +know what yer a-comin' at, that 'ere escaped wolf." + +"Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how +it happened, and when I know the facts I'll get you to say what you +consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair +will end." + +"All right, guv'nor. This 'ere is about the 'ole story. +That 'ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three gray +ones that came from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought +off him four years ago. He was a nice well-behaved wolf, +that never gave no trouble to talk of. I'm more surprised +at 'im for wantin' to get out nor any other animile in the +place. But, there, you can't trust wolves no more nor women." + +"Don't you mind him, Sir!" broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cheery +laugh. "'E's got mindin' the animiles so long that blest +if he ain't like a old wolf 'isself! But there ain't no +'arm in 'im." + +"Well, Sir, it was about two hours after feedin' yesterday when I +first hear my disturbance. I was makin' up a litter in the monkey +house for a young puma which is ill. But when I heard the yelpin' +and 'owlin' I kem away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin' like +a mad thing at the bars as if he wanted to get out. There wasn't +much people about that day, and close at hand was only one man, a +tall, thin chap, with a 'ook nose and a pointed beard, with a few +white hairs runnin' through it. He had a 'ard, cold look and red +eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it seemed as if it +was 'im as they was hirritated at. He 'ad white kid gloves on 'is +'ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says, 'Keeper, +these wolves seem upset at something.' + +"'Maybe it's you,' says I, for I did not like the airs as he +give 'isself. He didn't get angry, as I 'oped he would, but +he smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, +sharp teeth. 'Oh no, they wouldn't like me,' 'e says. + +"'Ow yes, they would,' says I, a-imitatin' of him. 'They +always like a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea +time, which you 'as a bagful.' + +"Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us +a-talkin' they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker +he let me stroke his ears same as ever. That there man kem +over, and blessed but if he didn't put in his hand and stroke +the old wolf's ears too! + +"'Tyke care,' says I. 'Bersicker is quick.' + +"'Never mind,' he says. I'm used to 'em!' + +"'Are you in the business yourself?' I says, tyking off my +'at, for a man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good +friend to keepers. + +"'Nom,' says he, 'not exactly in the business, but I 'ave made pets +of several.' And with that he lifts his 'at as perlite as a lord, +and walks away. Old Bersicker kep' a-lookin' arter 'im till 'e was +out of sight, and then went and lay down in a corner and wouldn't +come hout the 'ole hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon +was hup, the wolves here all began a-'owling. There warn't nothing +for them to 'owl at. There warn't no one near, except some one that +was evidently a-callin' a dog somewheres out back of the gardings in +the Park road. Once or twice I went out to see that all was right, +and it was, and then the 'owling stopped. Just before twelve +o'clock I just took a look round afore turnin' in, an', bust me, but +when I kem opposite to old Bersicker's cage I see the rails broken +and twisted about and the cage empty. And that's all I know for +certing." + +"Did any one else see anything?" + +"One of our gard'ners was a-comin' 'ome about that time from a +'armony, when he sees a big gray dog comin' out through the garding +'edges. At least, so he says, but I don't give much for it myself, +for if he did 'e never said a word about it to his missis when 'e +got 'ome, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made +known, and we had been up all night a-huntin' of the Park for +Bersicker, that he remembered seein' anything. My own belief was +that the 'armony 'ad got into his 'ead." + +"Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape +of the wolf?" + +"Well, Sir," he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, "I think I +can, but I don't know as 'ow you'd be satisfied with the theory." + +"Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from +experience, can't hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to +try?" + +"Well then, Sir, I accounts for it this way. It seems to me that +'ere wolf escaped--simply because he wanted to get out." + +From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the +joke I could see that it had done service before, and that the whole +explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn't cope in +badinage with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to +his heart, so I said, "Now, Mr. Bilder, we'll consider that first +half-sovereign worked off, and this brother of his is waiting to be +claimed when you've told me what you think will happen." + +"Right y'are, Sir," he said briskly. "Ye'll excoose me, I +know, for a-chaffin' of ye, but the old woman here winked at +me, which was as much as telling me to go on." + +"Well, I never!" said the old lady. + +"My opinion is this: that 'ere wolf is a'idin' of, somewheres. The +gard'ner wot didn't remember said he was a-gallopin' northward +faster than a horse could go, but I don't believe him, for, yer see, +Sir, wolves don't gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein' built +that way. Wolves is fine things in a storybook, and I dessay when +they gets in packs and does be chivyin' somethin' that's more +afeared than they is they can make a devil of a noise and chop it +up, whatever it is. But, Lor' bless you, in real life a wolf is +only a low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog, and +not half a quarter so much fight in 'im. This one ain't been used +to fightin' or even to providin' for hisself, and more like he's +somewhere round the Park a'hidin' an' a'shiverin' of, and if he +thinks at all, wonderin' where he is to get his breakfast from. Or +maybe he's got down some area and is in a coal cellar. My eye, +won't some cook get a rum start when she sees his green eyes +a-shinin' at her out of the dark! If he can't get food he's bound to +look for it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher's shop +in time. If he doesn't, and some nursemaid goes out walkin' or orf +with a soldier, leavin' of the hinfant in the perambulator--well, +then I shouldn't be surprised if the census is one babby the less. +That's all." + +I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up +against the window, and Mr. Bilder's face doubled its natural length +with surprise. + +"God bless me!" he said. "If there ain't old Bersicker come back by +'isself!" + +He went to the door and opened it, a most unnecessary proceeding it +seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks +so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between +us. A personal experience has intensified rather than diminished +that idea. + +After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder +nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. +The animal itself was a peaceful and well-behaved as that father of +all picture-wolves, Red Riding Hood's quondam friend, whilst moving +her confidence in masquerade. + +The whole scene was a unutterable mixture of comedy and +pathos. The wicked wolf that for a half a day had +paralyzed London and set all the children in town shivering +in their shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and +was received and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal +son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender +solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent +said, + +"There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of +trouble. Didn't I say it all along? Here's his head all +cut and full of broken glass. 'E's been a-gettin' over +some bloomin' wall or other. It's a shyme that people are +allowed to top their walls with broken bottles. This 'ere's +what comes of it. Come along, Bersicker." + +He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece +of meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary +conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to report. + +I came off too, to report the only exclusive information +that is given today regarding the strange escapade at the +Zoo. + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +17 September.--I was engaged after dinner in my study posting up my +books, which, through press of other work and the many visits to Lucy, +had fallen sadly into arrear. Suddenly the door was burst open, and +in rushed my patient, with his face distorted with passion. I was +thunderstruck, for such a thing as a patient getting of his own accord +into the Superintendent's study is almost unknown. + +Without an instant's notice he made straight at me. He had a dinner +knife in his hand, and as I saw he was dangerous, I tried to keep the +table between us. He was too quick and too strong for me, however, +for before I could get my balance he had struck at me and cut my left +wrist rather severely. + +Before he could strike again, however, I got in my right hand and he +was sprawling on his back on the floor. My wrist bled freely, and +quite a little pool trickled on to the carpet. I saw that my friend +was not intent on further effort, and occupied myself binding up my +wrist, keeping a wary eye on the prostrate figure all the time. When +the attendants rushed in, and we turned our attention to him, his +employment positively sickened me. He was lying on his belly on the +floor licking up, like a dog, the blood which had fallen from my +wounded wrist. He was easily secured, and to my surprise, went with +the attendants quite placidly, simply repeating over and over again, +"The blood is the life! The blood is the life!" + +I cannot afford to lose blood just at present. I have lost too much +of late for my physical good, and then the prolonged strain of Lucy's +illness and its horrible phases is telling on me. I am over excited +and weary, and I need rest, rest, rest. Happily Van Helsing has not +summoned me, so I need not forego my sleep. Tonight I could not well +do without it. + + + +TELEGRAM, VAN HELSING, ANTWERP, TO SEWARD, CARFAX + +(Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given, delivered late +by twenty-two hours.) + +17 September.--Do not fail to be at Hilllingham tonight. +If not watching all the time, frequently visit and see that +flowers are as placed, very important, do not fail. Shall +be with you as soon as possible after arrival. + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +18 September.--Just off train to London. The arrival of Van +Helsing's telegram filled me with dismay. A whole night lost, +and I know by bitter experience what may happen in a night. +Of course it is possible that all may be well, but what may +have happened? Surely there is some horrible doom hanging over us +that every possible accident should thwart us in all we try to do. +I shall take this cylinder with me, and then I can complete +my entry on Lucy's phonograph. + + + + +MEMORANDUM LEFT BY LUCY WESTENRA + +17 September, Night.--I write this and leave it to be seen, +so that no one may by any chance get into trouble through +me. This is an exact record of what took place tonight. I +feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely strength to +write, but it must be done if I die in the doing. + +I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers were +placed as Dr. Van Helsing directed, and soon fell asleep. + +I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had begun after +that sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when Mina saved me, and +which now I know so well. I was not afraid, but I did wish that +Dr. Seward was in the next room, as Dr. Van Helsing said he would +be, so that I might have called him. I tried to sleep, but I +could not. Then there came to me the old fear of sleep, and I +determined to keep awake. Perversely sleep would try to come then +when I did not want it. So, as I feared to be alone, I opened my +door and called out, "Is there anybody there?" There was no +answer. I was afraid to wake mother, and so closed my door +again. Then outside in the shrubbery I heard a sort of howl like +a dog's, but more fierce and deeper. I went to the window and +looked out, but could see nothing, except a big bat, which had +evidently been buffeting its wings against the window. So I went +back to bed again, but determined not to go to sleep. Presently +the door opened, and mother looked in. Seeing by my moving that +I was not asleep, she came in and sat by me. She said to me even +more sweetly and softly than her wont, + +"I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that +you were all right." + +I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her +to come in and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay +down beside me. She did not take off her dressing gown, +for she said she would only stay a while and then go back +to her own bed. As she lay there in my arms, and I in hers +the flapping and buffeting came to the window again. She +was startled and a little frightened, and cried out, "What +is that?" + +I tried to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and she lay +quiet. But I could hear her poor dear heart still beating +terribly. After a while there was the howl again out in +the shrubbery, and shortly after there was a crash at the +window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor. +The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in, +and in the aperture of the broken panes there was the head +of a great, gaunt gray wolf. + +Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a +sitting posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would +help her. Amongst other things, she clutched the wreath of +flowers that Dr. Van Helsing insisted on my wearing round +my neck, and tore it away from me. For a second or two she +sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange and +horrible gurgling in her throat. Then she fell over, as if +struck with lightning, and her head hit my forehead and +made me dizzy for a moment or two. + +The room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my eyes +fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back, and a whole +myriad of little specks seems to come blowing in through the +broken window, and wheeling and circling round like the pillar of +dust that travellers describe when there is a simoon in the +desert. I tried to stir, but there was some spell upon me, and +dear Mother's poor body, which seemed to grow cold already, for +her dear heart had ceased to beat, weighed me down, and I +remembered no more for a while. + +The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I +recovered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing +bell was tolling. The dogs all round the neighbourhood were +howling, and in our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a +nightingale was singing. I was dazed and stupid with pain +and terror and weakness, but the sound of the nightingale +seemed like the voice of my dead mother come back to comfort me. +The sounds seemed to have awakened the maids, too, for I could +hear their bare feet pattering outside my door. I called to +them, and they came in, and when they saw what had happened, and +what it was that lay over me on the bed, they screamed out. The +wind rushed in through the broken window, and the door slammed +to. They lifted off the body of my dear mother, and laid her, +covered up with a sheet, on the bed after I had got up. They +were all so frightened and nervous that I directed them to go to +the dining room and each have a glass of wine. The door flew +open for an instant and closed again. The maids shrieked, and +then went in a body to the dining room, and I laid what flowers I +had on my dear mother's breast. When they were there I +remembered what Dr. Van Helsing had told me, but I didn't like to +remove them, and besides, I would have some of the servants to +sit up with me now. I was surprised that the maids did not come +back. I called them, but got no answer, so I went to the dining +room to look for them. + +My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all four +lay helpless on the floor, breathing heavily. The decanter +of sherry was on the table half full, but there was a queer, +acrid smell about. I was suspicious, and examined the decanter. +It smelt of laudanum, and looking on the sideboard, I found that +the bottle which Mother's doctor uses for her--oh! did use--was +empty. What am I to do? What am I to do? I am back in the room +with Mother. I cannot leave her, and I am alone, save for the +sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged. Alone with the +dead! I dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf +through the broken window. + +The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the +draught from the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. +What am I to do? God shield me from harm this night! I +shall hide this paper in my breast, where they shall find +it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother gone! It +is time that I go too. Goodbye, dear Arthur, if I should +not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help +me! + + + + +CHAPTER 12 + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +18 September.--I drove at once to Hillingham and arrived early. +Keeping my cab at the gate, I went up the avenue alone. I knocked +gently and rang as quietly as possible, for I feared to disturb Lucy +or her mother, and hoped to only bring a servant to the door. After a +while, finding no response, I knocked and rang again, still no +answer. I cursed the laziness of the servants that they should lie +abed at such an hour, for it was now ten o'clock, and so rang and +knocked again, but more impatiently, but still without response. +Hitherto I had blamed only the servants, but now a terrible fear began +to assail me. Was this desolation but another link in the chain of +doom which seemed drawing tight round us? Was it indeed a house of +death to which I had come, too late? I know that minutes, even +seconds of delay, might mean hours of danger to Lucy, if she had had +again one of those frightful relapses, and I went round the house to +try if I could find by chance an entry anywhere. + +I could find no means of ingress. Every window and door was fastened +and locked, and I returned baffled to the porch. As I did so, I heard +the rapid pit-pat of a swiftly driven horse's feet. They stopped at +the gate, and a few seconds later I met Van Helsing running up the +avenue. When he saw me, he gasped out, "Then it was you, and just +arrived. How is she? Are we too late? Did you not get my telegram?" + +I answered as quickly and coherently as I could that I had only got +his telegram early in the morning, and had not a minute in coming +here, and that I could not make any one in the house hear me. He +paused and raised his hat as he said solemnly, "Then I fear we are too +late. God's will be done!" + +With his usual recuperative energy, he went on, "Come. If there be no +way open to get in, we must make one. Time is all in all to us now." + +We went round to the back of the house, where there was a kitchen +window. The Professor took a small surgical saw from his case, and +handing it to me, pointed to the iron bars which guarded the window. +I attacked them at once and had very soon cut through three of them. +Then with a long, thin knife we pushed back the fastening of the +sashes and opened the window. I helped the Professor in, and followed +him. There was no one in the kitchen or in the servants' rooms, which +were close at hand. We tried all the rooms as we went along, and in +the dining room, dimly lit by rays of light through the shutters, +found four servant women lying on the floor. There was no need to +think them dead, for their stertorous breathing and the acrid smell of +laudanum in the room left no doubt as to their condition. + +Van Helsing and I looked at each other, and as we moved away he said, +"We can attend to them later." Then we ascended to Lucy's room. For an +instant or two we paused at the door to listen, but there was no sound +that we could hear. With white faces and trembling hands, we opened +the door gently, and entered the room. + +How shall I describe what we saw? On the bed lay two women, Lucy and +her mother. The latter lay farthest in, and she was covered with a +white sheet, the edge of which had been blown back by the drought +through the broken window, showing the drawn, white, face, with a look +of terror fixed upon it. By her side lay Lucy, with face white and +still more drawn. The flowers which had been round her neck we found +upon her mother's bosom, and her throat was bare, showing the two +little wounds which we had noticed before, but looking horribly white +and mangled. Without a word the Professor bent over the bed, his head +almost touching poor Lucy's breast. Then he gave a quick turn of his +head, as of one who listens, and leaping to his feet, he cried out to +me, "It is not yet too late! Quick! Quick! Bring the brandy!" + +I flew downstairs and returned with it, taking care to smell and taste +it, lest it, too, were drugged like the decanter of sherry which I +found on the table. The maids were still breathing, but more +restlessly, and I fancied that the narcotic was wearing off. I did +not stay to make sure, but returned to Van Helsing. He rubbed the +brandy, as on another occasion, on her lips and gums and on her wrists +and the palms of her hands. He said to me, "I can do this, all that +can be at the present. You go wake those maids. Flick them in the +face with a wet towel, and flick them hard. Make them get heat and +fire and a warm bath. This poor soul is nearly as cold as that beside +her. She will need be heated before we can do anything more." + +I went at once, and found little difficulty in waking three of the +women. The fourth was only a young girl, and the drug had evidently +affected her more strongly so I lifted her on the sofa and let her +sleep. + +The others were dazed at first, but as remembrance came back to them +they cried and sobbed in a hysterical manner. I was stern with them, +however, and would not let them talk. I told them that one life was +bad enough to lose, and if they delayed they would sacrifice Miss +Lucy. So, sobbing and crying they went about their way, half clad as +they were, and prepared fire and water. Fortunately, the kitchen and +boiler fires were still alive, and there was no lack of hot water. We +got a bath and carried Lucy out as she was and placed her in it. +Whilst we were busy chafing her limbs there was a knock at the hall +door. One of the maids ran off, hurried on some more clothes, and +opened it. Then she returned and whispered to us that there was a +gentleman who had come with a message from Mr. Holmwood. I bade her +simply tell him that he must wait, for we could see no one now. She +went away with the message, and, engrossed with our work, I clean +forgot all about him. + +I never saw in all my experience the Professor work in such deadly +earnest. I knew, as he knew, that it was a stand-up fight with death, +and in a pause told him so. He answered me in a way that I did not +understand, but with the sternest look that his face could wear. + +"If that were all, I would stop here where we are now, and let her +fade away into peace, for I see no light in life over her horizon." He +went on with his work with, if possible, renewed and more frenzied +vigour. + +Presently we both began to be conscious that the heat was beginning to +be of some effect. Lucy's heart beat a trifle more audibly to the +stethoscope, and her lungs had a perceptible movement. Van Helsing's +face almost beamed, and as we lifted her from the bath and rolled her +in a hot sheet to dry her he said to me, "The first gain is ours! +Check to the King!" + +We took Lucy into another room, which had by now been prepared, and +laid her in bed and forced a few drops of brandy down her throat. I +noticed that Van Helsing tied a soft silk handkerchief round her +throat. She was still unconscious, and was quite as bad as, if not +worse than, we had ever seen her. + +Van Helsing called in one of the women, and told her to stay with her +and not to take her eyes off her till we returned, and then beckoned +me out of the room. + +"We must consult as to what is to be done," he said as we descended +the stairs. In the hall he opened the dining room door, and we passed +in, he closing the door carefully behind him. The shutters had been +opened, but the blinds were already down, with that obedience to the +etiquette of death which the British woman of the lower classes always +rigidly observes. The room was, therefore, dimly dark. It was, +however, light enough for our purposes. Van Helsing's sternness was +somewhat relieved by a look of perplexity. He was evidently torturing +his mind about something, so I waited for an instant, and he spoke. + +"What are we to do now? Where are we to turn for help? We must have +another transfusion of blood, and that soon, or that poor girl's life +won't be worth an hour's purchase. You are exhausted already. I am +exhausted too. I fear to trust those women, even if they would have +courage to submit. What are we to do for some one who will open his +veins for her?" + +"What's the matter with me, anyhow?" + +The voice came from the sofa across the room, and its tones brought +relief and joy to my heart, for they were those of Quincey Morris. + +Van Helsing started angrily at the first sound, but his face softened +and a glad look came into his eyes as I cried out, "Quincey Morris!" +and rushed towards him with outstretched hands. + +"What brought you here?" I cried as our hands met. + +"I guess Art is the cause." + +He handed me a telegram.--'Have not heard from Seward for three days, +and am terribly anxious. Cannot leave. Father still in same +condition. Send me word how Lucy is. Do not delay.--Holmwood.' + +"I think I came just in the nick of time. You know you have only to +tell me what to do." + +Van Helsing strode forward, and took his hand, looking him straight in +the eyes as he said, "A brave man's blood is the best thing on this +earth when a woman is in trouble. You're a man and no mistake. Well, +the devil may work against us for all he's worth, but God sends us men +when we want them." + +Once again we went through that ghastly operation. I have not the +heart to go through with the details. Lucy had got a terrible shock +and it told on her more than before, for though plenty of blood went +into her veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as +on the other occasions. Her struggle back into life was something +frightful to see and hear. However, the action of both heart and +lungs improved, and Van Helsing made a sub-cutaneous injection of +morphia, as before, and with good effect. Her faint became a profound +slumber. The Professor watched whilst I went downstairs with Quincey +Morris, and sent one of the maids to pay off one of the cabmen who +were waiting. + +I left Quincey lying down after having a glass of wine, and told the +cook to get ready a good breakfast. Then a thought struck me, and I +went back to the room where Lucy now was. When I came softly in, I +found Van Helsing with a sheet or two of note paper in his hand. He +had evidently read it, and was thinking it over as he sat with his +hand to his brow. There was a look of grim satisfaction in his face, +as of one who has had a doubt solved. He handed me the paper saying +only, "It dropped from Lucy's breast when we carried her to the bath." + +When I had read it, I stood looking at the Professor, and after a +pause asked him, "In God's name, what does it all mean? Was she, or +is she, mad, or what sort of horrible danger is it?" I was so +bewildered that I did not know what to say more. Van Helsing put out +his hand and took the paper, saying, + +"Do not trouble about it now. Forget it for the present. You shall +know and understand it all in good time, but it will be later. And +now what is it that you came to me to say?" This brought me back to +fact, and I was all myself again. + +"I came to speak about the certificate of death. If we do not act +properly and wisely, there may be an inquest, and that paper would +have to be produced. I am in hopes that we need have no inquest, for +if we had it would surely kill poor Lucy, if nothing else did. I +know, and you know, and the other doctor who attended her knows, that +Mrs. Westenra had disease of the heart, and we can certify that she +died of it. Let us fill up the certificate at once, and I shall take +it myself to the registrar and go on to the undertaker." + +"Good, oh my friend John! Well thought of! Truly Miss Lucy, if she +be sad in the foes that beset her, is at least happy in the friends +that love her. One, two, three, all open their veins for her, besides +one old man. Ah, yes, I know, friend John. I am not blind! I love +you all the more for it! Now go." + +In the hall I met Quincey Morris, with a telegram for Arthur telling +him that Mrs. Westenra was dead, that Lucy also had been ill, but was +now going on better, and that Van Helsing and I were with her. I told +him where I was going, and he hurried me out, but as I was going said, + +"When you come back, Jack, may I have two words with you all to +ourselves?" I nodded in reply and went out. I found no difficulty +about the registration, and arranged with the local undertaker to come +up in the evening to measure for the coffin and to make arrangements. + +When I got back Quincey was waiting for me. I told him I would see +him as soon as I knew about Lucy, and went up to her room. She was +still sleeping, and the Professor seemingly had not moved from his +seat at her side. From his putting his finger to his lips, I gathered +that he expected her to wake before long and was afraid of +fore-stalling nature. So I went down to Quincey and took him into the +breakfast room, where the blinds were not drawn down, and which was a +little more cheerful, or rather less cheerless, than the other rooms. + +When we were alone, he said to me, "Jack Seward, I don't want to shove +myself in anywhere where I've no right to be, but this is no ordinary +case. You know I loved that girl and wanted to marry her, but +although that's all past and gone, I can't help feeling anxious about +her all the same. What is it that's wrong with her? The Dutchman, +and a fine old fellow he is, I can see that, said that time you two +came into the room, that you must have another transfusion of blood, +and that both you and he were exhausted. Now I know well that you +medical men speak in camera, and that a man must not expect to know +what they consult about in private. But this is no common matter, and +whatever it is, I have done my part. Is not that so?" + +"That's so," I said, and he went on. + +"I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done already what I did +today. Is not that so?" + +"That's so." + +"And I guess Art was in it too. When I saw him four days ago down at +his own place he looked queer. I have not seen anything pulled down +so quick since I was on the Pampas and had a mare that I was fond of +go to grass all in a night. One of those big bats that they call +vampires had got at her in the night, and what with his gorge and the +vein left open, there wasn't enough blood in her to let her stand up, +and I had to put a bullet through her as she lay. Jack, if you may +tell me without betraying confidence, Arthur was the first, is not +that so?" + +As he spoke the poor fellow looked terribly anxious. He was in a +torture of suspense regarding the woman he loved, and his utter +ignorance of the terrible mystery which seemed to surround her +intensified his pain. His very heart was bleeding, and it took all +the manhood of him, and there was a royal lot of it, too, to keep him +from breaking down. I paused before answering, for I felt that I must +not betray anything which the Professor wished kept secret, but +already he knew so much, and guessed so much, that there could be no +reason for not answering, so I answered in the same phrase. + +"That's so." + +"And how long has this been going on?" + +"About ten days." + +"Ten days! Then I guess, Jack Seward, that that poor pretty creature +that we all love has had put into her veins within that time the blood +of four strong men. Man alive, her whole body wouldn't hold it." Then +coming close to me, he spoke in a fierce half-whisper. "What took it +out?" + +I shook my head. "That," I said, "is the crux. Van Helsing is simply +frantic about it, and I am at my wits' end. I can't even hazard a +guess. There has been a series of little circumstances which have +thrown out all our calculations as to Lucy being properly watched. +But these shall not occur again. Here we stay until all be well, or +ill." + +Quincey held out his hand. "Count me in," he said. "You and the +Dutchman will tell me what to do, and I'll do it." + +When she woke late in the afternoon, Lucy's first movement was to feel +in her breast, and to my surprise, produced the paper which Van +Helsing had given me to read. The careful Professor had replaced it +where it had come from, lest on waking she should be alarmed. Her +eyes then lit on Van Helsing and on me too, and gladdened. Then she +looked round the room, and seeing where she was, shuddered. She gave +a loud cry, and put her poor thin hands before her pale face. + +We both understood what was meant, that she had realized to the full +her mother's death. So we tried what we could to comfort her. +Doubtless sympathy eased her somewhat, but she was very low in thought +and spirit, and wept silently and weakly for a long time. We told her +that either or both of us would now remain with her all the time, and +that seemed to comfort her. Towards dusk she fell into a doze. Here +a very odd thing occurred. Whilst still asleep she took the paper +from her breast and tore it in two. Van Helsing stepped over and took +the pieces from her. All the same, however, she went on with the +action of tearing, as though the material were still in her hands. +Finally she lifted her hands and opened them as though scattering the +fragments. Van Helsing seemed surprised, and his brows gathered as if +in thought, but he said nothing. + + +19 September.--All last night she slept fitfully, being always afraid +to sleep, and something weaker when she woke from it. The Professor +and I took in turns to watch, and we never left her for a moment +unattended. Quincey Morris said nothing about his intention, but I +knew that all night long he patrolled round and round the house. + +When the day came, its searching light showed the ravages in poor +Lucy's strength. She was hardly able to turn her head, and the little +nourishment which she could take seemed to do her no good. At times +she slept, and both Van Helsing and I noticed the difference in her, +between sleeping and waking. Whilst asleep she looked stronger, +although more haggard, and her breathing was softer. Her open mouth +showed the pale gums drawn back from the teeth, which looked +positively longer and sharper than usual. When she woke the softness +of her eyes evidently changed the expression, for she looked her own +self, although a dying one. In the afternoon she asked for Arthur, +and we telegraphed for him. Quincey went off to meet him at the +station. + +When he arrived it was nearly six o'clock, and the sun was setting +full and warm, and the red light streamed in through the window and +gave more colour to the pale cheeks. When he saw her, Arthur was +simply choking with emotion, and none of us could speak. In the hours +that had passed, the fits of sleep, or the comatose condition that +passed for it, had grown more frequent, so that the pauses when +conversation was possible were shortened. Arthur's presence, however, +seemed to act as a stimulant. She rallied a little, and spoke to him +more brightly than she had done since we arrived. He too pulled +himself together, and spoke as cheerily as he could, so that the best +was made of everything. + +It is now nearly one o'clock, and he and Van Helsing are sitting with +her. I am to relieve them in a quarter of an hour, and I am entering +this on Lucy's phonograph. Until six o'clock they are to try to rest. +I fear that tomorrow will end our watching, for the shock has been too +great. The poor child cannot rally. God help us all. + + + + +LETTER MINA HARKER TO LUCY WESTENRA + +(Unopened by her) + +17 September + +My dearest Lucy, + +"It seems an age since I heard from you, or indeed since I +wrote. You will pardon me, I know, for all my faults when +you have read all my budget of news. Well, I got my husband back +all right. When we arrived at Exeter there was a carriage +waiting for us, and in it, though he had an attack of gout, Mr. +Hawkins. He took us to his house, where there were rooms for us +all nice and comfortable, and we dined together. After dinner +Mr. Hawkins said, + +"'My dears, I want to drink your health and prosperity, and +may every blessing attend you both. I know you both from +children, and have, with love and pride, seen you grow up. +Now I want you to make your home here with me. I have left +to me neither chick nor child. All are gone, and in my +will I have left you everything.' I cried, Lucy dear, as +Jonathan and the old man clasped hands. Our evening was a +very, very happy one. + +"So here we are, installed in this beautiful old house, and +from both my bedroom and the drawing room I can see the +great elms of the cathedral close, with their great black +stems standing out against the old yellow stone of the cathedral, +and I can hear the rooks overhead cawing and cawing and +chattering and chattering and gossiping all day, after the manner +of rooks--and humans. I am busy, I need not tell you, arranging +things and housekeeping. Jonathan and Mr. Hawkins are busy all +day, for now that Jonathan is a partner, Mr. Hawkins wants to +tell him all about the clients. + +"How is your dear mother getting on? I wish I could run up +to town for a day or two to see you, dear, but I dare not +go yet, with so much on my shoulders, and Jonathan wants +looking after still. He is beginning to put some flesh on +his bones again, but he was terribly weakened by the long +illness. Even now he sometimes starts out of his sleep in +a sudden way and awakes all trembling until I can coax him +back to his usual placidity. However, thank God, these +occasions grow less frequent as the days go on, and they +will in time pass away altogether, I trust. And now I have +told you my news, let me ask yours. When are you to be +married, and where, and who is to perform the ceremony, and +what are you to wear, and is it to be a public or private +wedding? Tell me all about it, dear, tell me all about +everything, for there is nothing which interests you which +will not be dear to me. Jonathan asks me to send his 'respectful +duty', but I do not think that is good enough from the junior +partner of the important firm Hawkins & Harker. And so, as you +love me, and he loves me, and I love you with all the moods and +tenses of the verb, I send you simply his 'love' instead. +Goodbye, my dearest Lucy, and blessings on you. + +"Yours, + +"Mina Harker" + + + +REPORT FROM PATRICK HENNESSEY, MD, MRCSLK, QCPI, ETC, ETC, +TO JOHN SEWARD, MD + +20 September + +My dear Sir: + +"In accordance with your wishes, I enclose report of the +conditions of everything left in my charge. With regard to +patient, Renfield, there is more to say. He has had another +outbreak, which might have had a dreadful ending, but which, as +it fortunately happened, was unattended with any unhappy results. +This afternoon a carrier's cart with two men made a call at the +empty house whose grounds abut on ours, the house to which, you +will remember, the patient twice ran away. The men stopped at +our gate to ask the porter their way, as they were strangers. + +"I was myself looking out of the study window, having a +smoke after dinner, and saw one of them come up to the +house. As he passed the window of Renfield's room, the +patient began to rate him from within, and called him all +the foul names he could lay his tongue to. The man, who +seemed a decent fellow enough, contented himself by telling +him to 'shut up for a foul-mouthed beggar', whereon our man +accused him of robbing him and wanting to murder him and +said that he would hinder him if he were to swing for it. +I opened the window and signed to the man not to notice, so +he contented himself after looking the place over and making up +his mind as to what kind of place he had got to by saying, 'Lor' +bless yer, sir, I wouldn't mind what was said to me in a bloomin' +madhouse. I pity ye and the guv'nor for havin' to live in the +house with a wild beast like that.' + +"Then he asked his way civilly enough, and I told him where +the gate of the empty house was. He went away followed by +threats and curses and revilings from our man. I went down +to see if I could make out any cause for his anger, since +he is usually such a well-behaved man, and except his violent +fits nothing of the kind had ever occurred. I found him, to my +astonishment, quite composed and most genial in his manner. I +tried to get him to talk of the incident, but he blandly asked me +questions as to what I meant, and led me to believe that he was +completely oblivious of the affair. It was, I am sorry to say, +however, only another instance of his cunning, for within half an +hour I heard of him again. This time he had broken out through +the window of his room, and was running down the avenue. I +called to the attendants to follow me, and ran after him, for I +feared he was intent on some mischief. My fear was justified +when I saw the same cart which had passed before coming down the +road, having on it some great wooden boxes. The men were wiping +their foreheads, and were flushed in the face, as if with violent +exercise. Before I could get up to him, the patient rushed at +them, and pulling one of them off the cart, began to knock his +head against the ground. If I had not seized him just at the +moment, I believe he would have killed the man there and then. +The other fellow jumped down and struck him over the head with +the butt end of his heavy whip. It was a horrible blow, but he +did not seem to mind it, but seized him also, and struggled with +the three of us, pulling us to and fro as if we were kittens. +You know I am no lightweight, and the others were both burly men. +At first he was silent in his fighting, but as we began to master +him, and the attendants were putting a strait waistcoat on him, +he began to shout, 'I'll frustrate them! They shan't rob me! +They shan't murder me by inches! I'll fight for my Lord and +Master!' and all sorts of similar incoherent ravings. It was +with very considerable difficulty that they got him back to the +house and put him in the padded room. One of the attendants, +Hardy, had a finger broken. However, I set it all right, and he +is going on well. + +"The two carriers were at first loud in their threats of +actions for damages, and promised to rain all the penalties +of the law on us. Their threats were, however, mingled +with some sort of indirect apology for the defeat of the +two of them by a feeble madman. They said that if it had +not been for the way their strength had been spent in carrying +and raising the heavy boxes to the cart they would have made +short work of him. They gave as another reason for their defeat +the extraordinary state of drouth to which they had been reduced +by the dusty nature of their occupation and the reprehensible +distance from the scene of their labors of any place of public +entertainment. I quite understood their drift, and after a stiff +glass of strong grog, or rather more of the same, and with each a +sovereign in hand, they made light of the attack, and swore that +they would encounter a worse madman any day for the pleasure of +meeting so 'bloomin' good a bloke' as your correspondent. I took +their names and addresses, in case they might be needed. They +are as follows: Jack Smollet, of Dudding's Rents, King George's +Road, Great Walworth, and Thomas Snelling, Peter Farley's Row, +Guide Court, Bethnal Green. They are both in the employment of +Harris & Sons, Moving and Shipment Company, Orange Master's Yard, +Soho. + +"I shall report to you any matter of interest occurring here, and +shall wire you at once if there is anything of importance. + +"Believe me, dear Sir, + +"Yours faithfully, + +"Patrick Hennessey." + + + +LETTER, MINA HARKER TO LUCY WESTENRA (Unopened by her) + +18 September + +"My dearest Lucy, + +"Such a sad blow has befallen us. Mr. Hawkins has died very +suddenly. Some may not think it so sad for us, but we had +both come to so love him that it really seems as though we +had lost a father. I never knew either father or mother, +so that the dear old man's death is a real blow to me. Jonathan +is greatly distressed. It is not only that he feels sorrow, deep +sorrow, for the dear, good man who has befriended him all his +life, and now at the end has treated him like his own son and +left him a fortune which to people of our modest bringing up is +wealth beyond the dream of avarice, but Jonathan feels it on +another account. He says the amount of responsibility which it +puts upon him makes him nervous. He begins to doubt himself. I +try to cheer him up, and my belief in him helps him to have a +belief in himself. But it is here that the grave shock that he +experienced tells upon him the most. Oh, it is too hard that a +sweet, simple, noble, strong nature such as his, a nature which +enabled him by our dear, good friend's aid to rise from clerk to +master in a few years, should be so injured that the very essence +of its strength is gone. Forgive me, dear, if I worry you with my +troubles in the midst of your own happiness, but Lucy dear, I +must tell someone, for the strain of keeping up a brave and +cheerful appearance to Jonathan tries me, and I have no one here +that I can confide in. I dread coming up to London, as we must +do that day after tomorrow, for poor Mr. Hawkins left in his will +that he was to be buried in the grave with his father. As there +are no relations at all, Jonathan will have to be chief mourner. +I shall try to run over to see you, dearest, if only for a few +minutes. Forgive me for troubling you. With all blessings, + +"Your loving + +"Mina Harker" + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +20 September.--Only resolution and habit can let me make an entry +tonight. I am too miserable, too low spirited, too sick of the world +and all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard +this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death. And he +has been flapping those grim wings to some purpose of late, Lucy's +mother and Arthur's father, and now . . . Let me get on with my work. + +I duly relieved Van Helsing in his watch over Lucy. We wanted Arthur +to go to rest also, but he refused at first. It was only when I told +him that we should want him to help us during the day, and that we +must not all break down for want of rest, lest Lucy should suffer, +that he agreed to go. + +Van Helsing was very kind to him. "Come, my child," he said. "Come +with me. You are sick and weak, and have had much sorrow and much +mental pain, as well as that tax on your strength that we know of. +You must not be alone, for to be alone is to be full of fears and +alarms. Come to the drawing room, where there is a big fire, and +there are two sofas. You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and +our sympathy will be comfort to each other, even though we do not +speak, and even if we sleep." + +Arthur went off with him, casting back a longing look on Lucy's face, +which lay in her pillow, almost whiter than the lawn. She lay quite +still, and I looked around the room to see that all was as it should +be. I could see that the Professor had carried out in this room, as +in the other, his purpose of using the garlic. The whole of the +window sashes reeked with it, and round Lucy's neck, over the silk +handkerchief which Van Helsing made her keep on, was a rough chaplet +of the same odorous flowers. + +Lucy was breathing somewhat stertorously, and her face was at its +worst, for the open mouth showed the pale gums. Her teeth, in the +dim, uncertain light, seemed longer and sharper than they had been in +the morning. In particular, by some trick of the light, the canine +teeth looked longer and sharper than the rest. + +I sat down beside her, and presently she moved uneasily. At the same +moment there came a sort of dull flapping or buffeting at the window. +I went over to it softly, and peeped out by the corner of the blind. +There was a full moonlight, and I could see that the noise was made by +a great bat, which wheeled around, doubtless attracted by the light, +although so dim, and every now and again struck the window with its +wings. When I came back to my seat, I found that Lucy had moved +slightly, and had torn away the garlic flowers from her throat. I +replaced them as well as I could, and sat watching her. + +Presently she woke, and I gave her food, as Van Helsing had +prescribed. She took but a little, and that languidly. There did not +seem to be with her now the unconscious struggle for life and strength +that had hitherto so marked her illness. It struck me as curious that +the moment she became conscious she pressed the garlic flowers close +to her. It was certainly odd that whenever she got into that +lethargic state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers +from her, but that when she waked she clutched them close. There was +no possibility of making any mistake about this, for in the long hours +that followed, she had many spells of sleeping and waking and repeated +both actions many times. + +At six o'clock Van Helsing came to relieve me. Arthur had then fallen +into a doze, and he mercifully let him sleep on. When he saw Lucy's +face I could hear the hissing indraw of breath, and he said to me in a +sharp whisper. "Draw up the blind. I want light!" Then he bent down, +and, with his face almost touching Lucy's, examined her carefully. He +removed the flowers and lifted the silk handkerchief from her throat. +As he did so he started back and I could hear his ejaculation, "Mein +Gott!" as it was smothered in his throat. I bent over and looked, +too, and as I noticed some queer chill came over me. The wounds on +the throat had absolutely disappeared. + +For fully five minutes Van Helsing stood looking at her, with his face +at its sternest. Then he turned to me and said calmly, "She is +dying. It will not be long now. It will be much difference, mark me, +whether she dies conscious or in her sleep. Wake that poor boy, and +let him come and see the last. He trusts us, and we have promised +him." + +I went to the dining room and waked him. He was dazed for a moment, +but when he saw the sunlight streaming in through the edges of the +shutters he thought he was late, and expressed his fear. I assured +him that Lucy was still asleep, but told him as gently as I could that +both Van Helsing and I feared that the end was near. He covered his +face with his hands, and slid down on his knees by the sofa, where he +remained, perhaps a minute, with his head buried, praying, whilst his +shoulders shook with grief. I took him by the hand and raised him up. +"Come," I said, "my dear old fellow, summon all your fortitude. It +will be best and easiest for her." + +When we came into Lucy's room I could see that Van Helsing had, with +his usual forethought, been putting matters straight and making +everything look as pleasing as possible. He had even brushed Lucy's +hair, so that it lay on the pillow in its usual sunny ripples. When +we came into the room she opened her eyes, and seeing him, whispered +softly, "Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come!" + +He was stooping to kiss her, when Van Helsing motioned him back. +"No," he whispered, "not yet! Hold her hand, it will comfort her +more." + +So Arthur took her hand and knelt beside her, and she looked her best, +with all the soft lines matching the angelic beauty of her eyes. Then +gradually her eyes closed, and she sank to sleep. For a little bit +her breast heaved softly, and her breath came and went like a tired +child's. + +And then insensibly there came the strange change which I had noticed +in the night. Her breathing grew stertorous, the mouth opened, and +the pale gums, drawn back, made the teeth look longer and sharper than +ever. In a sort of sleep-waking, vague, unconscious way she opened +her eyes, which were now dull and hard at once, and said in a soft, +voluptuous voice, such as I had never heard from her lips, "Arthur! +Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come! Kiss me!" + +Arthur bent eagerly over to kiss her, but at that instant Van Helsing, +who, like me, had been startled by her voice, swooped upon him, and +catching him by the neck with both hands, dragged him back with a fury +of strength which I never thought he could have possessed, and +actually hurled him almost across the room. + +"Not on your life!" he said, "not for your living soul and hers!" And +he stood between them like a lion at bay. + +Arthur was so taken aback that he did not for a moment know what to do +or say, and before any impulse of violence could seize him he realized +the place and the occasion, and stood silent, waiting. + +I kept my eyes fixed on Lucy, as did Van Helsing, and we saw a spasm +as of rage flit like a shadow over her face. The sharp teeth clamped +together. Then her eyes closed, and she breathed heavily. + +Very shortly after she opened her eyes in all their softness, and +putting out her poor, pale, thin hand, took Van Helsing's great brown +one, drawing it close to her, she kissed it. "My true friend," she +said, in a faint voice, but with untellable pathos, "My true friend, +and his! Oh, guard him, and give me peace!" + +"I swear it!" he said solemnly, kneeling beside her and holding up his +hand, as one who registers an oath. Then he turned to Arthur, and +said to him, "Come, my child, take her hand in yours, and kiss her on +the forehead, and only once." + +Their eyes met instead of their lips, and so they parted. Lucy's eyes +closed, and Van Helsing, who had been watching closely, took Arthur's +arm, and drew him away. + +And then Lucy's breathing became stertorous again, and all at once it +ceased. + +"It is all over," said Van Helsing. "She is dead!" + +I took Arthur by the arm, and led him away to the drawing room, where +he sat down, and covered his face with his hands, sobbing in a way +that nearly broke me down to see. + +I went back to the room, and found Van Helsing looking at poor Lucy, +and his face was sterner than ever. Some change had come over her +body. Death had given back part of her beauty, for her brow and +cheeks had recovered some of their flowing lines. Even the lips had +lost their deadly pallor. It was as if the blood, no longer needed +for the working of the heart, had gone to make the harshness of death +as little rude as might be. + +"We thought her dying whilst she slept, and sleeping when she died." + + +I stood beside Van Helsing, and said, "Ah well, poor girl, there is +peace for her at last. It is the end!" + +He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity, "Not so, alas! Not +so. It is only the beginning!" + +When I asked him what he meant, he only shook his head and answered, +"We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see." + + + + +CHAPTER 13 + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont. + +The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that Lucy and +her mother might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastly +formalities, and the urbane undertaker proved that his staff was +afflicted, or blessed, with something of his own obsequious suavity. +Even the woman who performed the last offices for the dead remarked to +me, in a confidential, brother-professional way, when she had come out +from the death chamber, + +"She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It's quite a privilege to +attend on her. It's not too much to say that she will do credit to +our establishment!" + +I noticed that Van Helsing never kept far away. This was possible +from the disordered state of things in the household. There were no +relatives at hand, and as Arthur had to be back the next day to attend +at his father's funeral, we were unable to notify any one who should +have been bidden. Under the circumstances, Van Helsing and I took it +upon ourselves to examine papers, etc. He insisted upon looking over +Lucy's papers himself. I asked him why, for I feared that he, being a +foreigner, might not be quite aware of English legal requirements, and +so might in ignorance make some unnecessary trouble. + +He answered me, "I know, I know. You forget that I am a lawyer as +well as a doctor. But this is not altogether for the law. You knew +that, when you avoided the coroner. I have more than him to avoid. +There may be papers more, such as this." + +As he spoke he took from his pocket book the memorandum which had been +in Lucy's breast, and which she had torn in her sleep. + +"When you find anything of the solicitor who is for the late Mrs. +Westenra, seal all her papers, and write him tonight. For me, I watch +here in the room and in Miss Lucy's old room all night, and I myself +search for what may be. It is not well that her very thoughts go into +the hands of strangers." + +I went on with my part of the work, and in another half hour had found +the name and address of Mrs. Westenra's solicitor and had written to +him. All the poor lady's papers were in order. Explicit directions +regarding the place of burial were given. I had hardly sealed the +letter, when, to my surprise, Van Helsing walked into the room, +saying, + +"Can I help you friend John? I am free, and if I may, my service is +to you." + +"Have you got what you looked for?" I asked. + +To which he replied, "I did not look for any specific thing. I only +hoped to find, and find I have, all that there was, only some letters +and a few memoranda, and a diary new begun. But I have them here, and +we shall for the present say nothing of them. I shall see that poor +lad tomorrow evening, and, with his sanction, I shall use some." + +When we had finished the work in hand, he said to me, "And now, friend +John, I think we may to bed. We want sleep, both you and I, and rest +to recuperate. Tomorrow we shall have much to do, but for the tonight +there is no need of us. Alas!" + +Before turning in we went to look at poor Lucy. The undertaker had +certainly done his work well, for the room was turned into a small +chapelle ardente. There was a wilderness of beautiful white flowers, +and death was made as little repulsive as might be. The end of the +winding sheet was laid over the face. When the Professor bent over +and turned it gently back, we both started at the beauty before us. +The tall wax candles showing a sufficient light to note it well. All +Lucy's loveliness had come back to her in death, and the hours that +had passed, instead of leaving traces of 'decay's effacing fingers', +had but restored the beauty of life, till positively I could not +believe my eyes that I was looking at a corpse. + +The Professor looked sternly grave. He had not loved her as I had, +and there was no need for tears in his eyes. He said to me, "Remain +till I return," and left the room. He came back with a handful of +wild garlic from the box waiting in the hall, but which had not been +opened, and placed the flowers amongst the others on and around the +bed. Then he took from his neck, inside his collar, a little gold +crucifix, and placed it over the mouth. He restored the sheet to its +place, and we came away. + +I was undressing in my own room, when, with a premonitory tap at the +door, he entered, and at once began to speak. + +"Tomorrow I want you to bring me, before night, a set of post-mortem +knives." + +"Must we make an autopsy?" I asked. + +"Yes and no. I want to operate, but not what you think. Let me tell +you now, but not a word to another. I want to cut off her head and +take out her heart. Ah! You a surgeon, and so shocked! You, whom I +have seen with no tremble of hand or heart, do operations of life and +death that make the rest shudder. Oh, but I must not forget, my dear +friend John, that you loved her, and I have not forgotten it for is I +that shall operate, and you must not help. I would like to do it +tonight, but for Arthur I must not. He will be free after his +father's funeral tomorrow, and he will want to see her, to see it. +Then, when she is coffined ready for the next day, you and I shall +come when all sleep. We shall unscrew the coffin lid, and shall do +our operation, and then replace all, so that none know, save we +alone." + +"But why do it at all? The girl is dead. Why mutilate her poor body +without need? And if there is no necessity for a post-mortem and +nothing to gain by it, no good to her, to us, to science, to human +knowledge, why do it? Without such it is monstrous." + +For answer he put his hand on my shoulder, and said, with infinite +tenderness, "Friend John, I pity your poor bleeding heart, and I love +you the more because it does so bleed. If I could, I would take on +myself the burden that you do bear. But there are things that you +know not, but that you shall know, and bless me for knowing, though +they are not pleasant things. John, my child, you have been my friend +now many years, and yet did you ever know me to do any without good +cause? I may err, I am but man, but I believe in all I do. Was it +not for these causes that you send for me when the great trouble +came? Yes! Were you not amazed, nay horrified, when I would not let +Arthur kiss his love, though she was dying, and snatched him away by +all my strength? Yes! And yet you saw how she thanked me, with her +so beautiful dying eyes, her voice, too, so weak, and she kiss my +rough old hand and bless me? Yes! And did you not hear me swear +promise to her, that so she closed her eyes grateful? Yes! + +"Well, I have good reason now for all I want to do. You have for many +years trust me. You have believe me weeks past, when there be things +so strange that you might have well doubt. Believe me yet a little, +friend John. If you trust me not, then I must tell what I think, and +that is not perhaps well. And if I work, as work I shall, no matter +trust or no trust, without my friend trust in me, I work with heavy +heart and feel oh so lonely when I want all help and courage that may +be!" He paused a moment and went on solemnly, "Friend John, there are +strange and terrible days before us. Let us not be two, but one, that +so we work to a good end. Will you not have faith in me?" + +I took his hand, and promised him. I held my door open as he went +away, and watched him go to his room and close the door. As I stood +without moving, I saw one of the maids pass silently along the +passage, she had her back to me, so did not see me, and go into the +room where Lucy lay. The sight touched me. Devotion is so rare, and +we are so grateful to those who show it unasked to those we love. Here +was a poor girl putting aside the terrors which she naturally had of +death to go watch alone by the bier of the mistress whom she loved, so +that the poor clay might not be lonely till laid to eternal rest. + +I must have slept long and soundly, for it was broad daylight when Van +Helsing waked me by coming into my room. He came over to my bedside +and said, "You need not trouble about the knives. We shall not do +it." + +"Why not?" I asked. For his solemnity of the night before had +greatly impressed me. + +"Because," he said sternly, "it is too late, or too early. See!" +Here he held up the little golden crucifix. + +"This was stolen in the night." + +"How stolen," I asked in wonder, "since you have it now?" + +"Because I get it back from the worthless wretch who stole it, from +the woman who robbed the dead and the living. Her punishment will +surely come, but not through me. She knew not altogether what she +did, and thus unknowing, she only stole. Now we must wait." He went +away on the word, leaving me with a new mystery to think of, a new +puzzle to grapple with. + +The forenoon was a dreary time, but at noon the solicitor came, Mr. +Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lidderdale. He was very +genial and very appreciative of what we had done, and took off our +hands all cares as to details. During lunch he told us that Mrs. +Westenra had for some time expected sudden death from her heart, and +had put her affairs in absolute order. He informed us that, with the +exception of a certain entailed property of Lucy's father which now, +in default of direct issue, went back to a distant branch of the +family, the whole estate, real and personal, was left absolutely to +Arthur Holmwood. When he had told us so much he went on, + +"Frankly we did our best to prevent such a testamentary disposition, +and pointed out certain contingencies that might leave her daughter +either penniless or not so free as she should be to act regarding a +matrimonial alliance. Indeed, we pressed the matter so far that we +almost came into collision, for she asked us if we were or were not +prepared to carry out her wishes. Of course, we had then no +alternative but to accept. We were right in principle, and +ninety-nine times out of a hundred we should have proved, by the logic +of events, the accuracy of our judgment. + +"Frankly, however, I must admit that in this case any other form of +disposition would have rendered impossible the carrying out of her +wishes. For by her predeceasing her daughter the latter would have +come into possession of the property, and, even had she only survived +her mother by five minutes, her property would, in case there were no +will, and a will was a practical impossibility in such a case, have +been treated at her decease as under intestacy. In which case Lord +Godalming, though so dear a friend, would have had no claim in the +world. And the inheritors, being remote, would not be likely to +abandon their just rights, for sentimental reasons regarding an entire +stranger. I assure you, my dear sirs, I am rejoiced at the result, +perfectly rejoiced." + +He was a good fellow, but his rejoicing at the one little part, in +which he was officially interested, of so great a tragedy, was an +object-lesson in the limitations of sympathetic understanding. + +He did not remain long, but said he would look in later in the day and +see Lord Godalming. His coming, however, had been a certain comfort +to us, since it assured us that we should not have to dread hostile +criticism as to any of our acts. Arthur was expected at five o'clock, +so a little before that time we visited the death chamber. It was so +in very truth, for now both mother and daughter lay in it. The +undertaker, true to his craft, had made the best display he could of +his goods, and there was a mortuary air about the place that lowered +our spirits at once. + +Van Helsing ordered the former arrangement to be adhered to, +explaining that, as Lord Godalming was coming very soon, it would be +less harrowing to his feelings to see all that was left of his fiancee +quite alone. + +The undertaker seemed shocked at his own stupidity and exerted himself +to restore things to the condition in which we left them the night +before, so that when Arthur came such shocks to his feelings as we +could avoid were saved. + +Poor fellow! He looked desperately sad and broken. Even his stalwart +manhood seemed to have shrunk somewhat under the strain of his +much-tried emotions. He had, I knew, been very genuinely and +devotedly attached to his father, and to lose him, and at such a time, +was a bitter blow to him. With me he was warm as ever, and to Van +Helsing he was sweetly courteous. But I could not help seeing that +there was some constraint with him. The professor noticed it too, and +motioned me to bring him upstairs. I did so, and left him at the door +of the room, as I felt he would like to be quite alone with her, but +he took my arm and led me in, saying huskily, + +"You loved her too, old fellow. She told me all about it, and there +was no friend had a closer place in her heart than you. I don't know +how to thank you for all you have done for her. I can't think +yet . . ." + +Here he suddenly broke down, and threw his arms round my shoulders and +laid his head on my breast, crying, "Oh, Jack! Jack! What shall I +do? The whole of life seems gone from me all at once, and there is +nothing in the wide world for me to live for." + +I comforted him as well as I could. In such cases men do not need +much expression. A grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm over +the shoulder, a sob in unison, are expressions of sympathy dear to a +man's heart. I stood still and silent till his sobs died away, and +then I said softly to him, "Come and look at her." + +Together we moved over to the bed, and I lifted the lawn from her +face. God! How beautiful she was. Every hour seemed to be enhancing +her loveliness. It frightened and amazed me somewhat. And as for +Arthur, he fell to trembling, and finally was shaken with doubt as +with an ague. At last, after a long pause, he said to me in a faint +whisper, "Jack, is she really dead?" + +I assured him sadly that it was so, and went on to suggest, for I felt +that such a horrible doubt should not have life for a moment longer +than I could help, that it often happened that after death faces +become softened and even resolved into their youthful beauty, that +this was especially so when death had been preceded by any acute or +prolonged suffering. I seemed to quite do away with any doubt, and +after kneeling beside the couch for a while and looking at her +lovingly and long, he turned aside. I told him that that must be +goodbye, as the coffin had to be prepared, so he went back and took +her dead hand in his and kissed it, and bent over and kissed her +forehead. He came away, fondly looking back over his shoulder at her +as he came. + +I left him in the drawing room, and told Van Helsing that he had said +goodbye, so the latter went to the kitchen to tell the undertaker's +men to proceed with the preparations and to screw up the coffin. When +he came out of the room again I told him of Arthur's question, and he +replied, "I am not surprised. Just now I doubted for a moment +myself!" + +We all dined together, and I could see that poor Art was trying to +make the best of things. Van Helsing had been silent all dinner time, +but when we had lit our cigars he said, "Lord . . ." but Arthur +interrupted him. + +"No, no, not that, for God's sake! Not yet at any rate. Forgive me, +sir. I did not mean to speak offensively. It is only because my loss +is so recent." + +The Professor answered very sweetly, "I only used that name because I +was in doubt. I must not call you 'Mr.' and I have grown to love you, +yes, my dear boy, to love you, as Arthur." + +Arthur held out his hand, and took the old man's warmly. "Call me +what you will," he said. "I hope I may always have the title of a +friend. And let me say that I am at a loss for words to thank you for +your goodness to my poor dear." He paused a moment, and went on, "I +know that she understood your goodness even better than I do. And if +I was rude or in any way wanting at that time you acted so, you +remember"--the Professor nodded--"you must forgive me." + +He answered with a grave kindness, "I know it was hard for you to +quite trust me then, for to trust such violence needs to understand, +and I take it that you do not, that you cannot, trust me now, for you +do not yet understand. And there may be more times when I shall want +you to trust when you cannot, and may not, and must not yet +understand. But the time will come when your trust shall be whole and +complete in me, and when you shall understand as though the sunlight +himself shone through. Then you shall bless me from first to last for +your own sake, and for the sake of others, and for her dear sake to +whom I swore to protect." + +"And indeed, indeed, sir," said Arthur warmly. "I shall in all ways +trust you. I know and believe you have a very noble heart, and you +are Jack's friend, and you were hers. You shall do what you like." + +The Professor cleared his throat a couple of times, as though about to +speak, and finally said, "May I ask you something now?" + +"Certainly." + +"You know that Mrs. Westenra left you all her property?" + +"No, poor dear. I never thought of it." + +"And as it is all yours, you have a right to deal with it as you will. +I want you to give me permission to read all Miss Lucy's papers and +letters. Believe me, it is no idle curiosity. I have a motive of +which, be sure, she would have approved. I have them all here. I +took them before we knew that all was yours, so that no strange hand +might touch them, no strange eye look through words into her soul. I +shall keep them, if I may. Even you may not see them yet, but I shall +keep them safe. No word shall be lost, and in the good time I shall +give them back to you. It is a hard thing that I ask, but you will do +it, will you not, for Lucy's sake?" + +Arthur spoke out heartily, like his old self, "Dr. Van Helsing, you +may do what you will. I feel that in saying this I am doing what my +dear one would have approved. I shall not trouble you with questions +till the time comes." + +The old Professor stood up as he said solemnly, "And you are right. +There will be pain for us all, but it will not be all pain, nor will +this pain be the last. We and you too, you most of all, dear boy, +will have to pass through the bitter water before we reach the sweet. +But we must be brave of heart and unselfish, and do our duty, and all +will be well!" + +I slept on a sofa in Arthur's room that night. Van Helsing did not go +to bed at all. He went to and fro, as if patroling the house, and was +never out of sight of the room where Lucy lay in her coffin, strewn +with the wild garlic flowers, which sent through the odour of lily and +rose, a heavy, overpowering smell into the night. + + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +22 September.--In the train to Exeter. Jonathan sleeping. It seems +only yesterday that the last entry was made, and yet how much between +then, in Whitby and all the world before me, Jonathan away and no news +of him, and now, married to Jonathan, Jonathan a solicitor, a partner, +rich, master of his business, Mr. Hawkins dead and buried, and +Jonathan with another attack that may harm him. Some day he may ask +me about it. Down it all goes. I am rusty in my shorthand, see what +unexpected prosperity does for us, so it may be as well to freshen it +up again with an exercise anyhow. + +The service was very simple and very solemn. There were only +ourselves and the servants there, one or two old friends of his from +Exeter, his London agent, and a gentleman representing Sir John +Paxton, the President of the Incorporated Law Society. Jonathan and I +stood hand in hand, and we felt that our best and dearest friend was +gone from us. + +We came back to town quietly, taking a bus to Hyde Park Corner. +Jonathan thought it would interest me to go into the Row for a while, +so we sat down. But there were very few people there, and it was +sad-looking and desolate to see so many empty chairs. It made us +think of the empty chair at home. So we got up and walked down +Piccadilly. Jonathan was holding me by the arm, the way he used to in +the old days before I went to school. I felt it very improper, for +you can't go on for some years teaching etiquette and decorum to other +girls without the pedantry of it biting into yourself a bit. But it +was Jonathan, and he was my husband, and we didn't know anybody who +saw us, and we didn't care if they did, so on we walked. I was +looking at a very beautiful girl, in a big cart-wheel hat, sitting in +a victoria outside Guiliano's, when I felt Jonathan clutch my arm so +tight that he hurt me, and he said under his breath, "My God!" + +I am always anxious about Jonathan, for I fear that some nervous fit +may upset him again. So I turned to him quickly, and asked him what +it was that disturbed him. + +He was very pale, and his eyes seemed bulging out as, half in terror +and half in amazement, he gazed at a tall, thin man, with a beaky nose +and black moustache and pointed beard, who was also observing the +pretty girl. He was looking at her so hard that he did not see either +of us, and so I had a good view of him. His face was not a good +face. It was hard, and cruel, and sensual, and big white teeth, that +looked all the whiter because his lips were so red, were pointed like +an animal's. Jonathan kept staring at him, till I was afraid he would +notice. I feared he might take it ill, he looked so fierce and nasty. +I asked Jonathan why he was disturbed, and he answered, evidently +thinking that I knew as much about it as he did, "Do you see who it +is?" + +"No, dear," I said. "I don't know him, who is it?" His answer seemed +to shock and thrill me, for it was said as if he did not know that it +was me, Mina, to whom he was speaking. "It is the man himself!" + +The poor dear was evidently terrified at something, very greatly +terrified. I do believe that if he had not had me to lean on and to +support him he would have sunk down. He kept staring. A man came out +of the shop with a small parcel, and gave it to the lady, who then +drove off. The dark man kept his eyes fixed on her, and when the +carriage moved up Piccadilly he followed in the same direction, and +hailed a hansom. Jonathan kept looking after him, and said, as if to +himself, + +"I believe it is the Count, but he has grown young. My God, if this +be so! Oh, my God! My God! If only I knew! If only I knew!" He was +distressing himself so much that I feared to keep his mind on the +subject by asking him any questions, so I remained silent. I drew +away quietly, and he, holding my arm, came easily. We walked a little +further, and then went in and sat for a while in the Green Park. It +was a hot day for autumn, and there was a comfortable seat in a shady +place. After a few minutes' staring at nothing, Jonathan's eyes +closed, and he went quickly into a sleep, with his head on my +shoulder. I thought it was the best thing for him, so did not disturb +him. In about twenty minutes he woke up, and said to me quite +cheerfully, + +"Why, Mina, have I been asleep! Oh, do forgive me for being so rude. +Come, and we'll have a cup of tea somewhere." + +He had evidently forgotten all about the dark stranger, as in his +illness he had forgotten all that this episode had reminded him of. I +don't like this lapsing into forgetfulness. It may make or continue +some injury to the brain. I must not ask him, for fear I shall do +more harm than good, but I must somehow learn the facts of his journey +abroad. The time is come, I fear, when I must open the parcel, and +know what is written. Oh, Jonathan, you will, I know, forgive me if I +do wrong, but it is for your own dear sake. + + +Later.--A sad homecoming in every way, the house empty of the dear +soul who was so good to us. Jonathan still pale and dizzy under a +slight relapse of his malady, and now a telegram from Van Helsing, +whoever he may be. "You will be grieved to hear that Mrs. Westenra +died five days ago, and that Lucy died the day before yesterday. They +were both buried today." + +Oh, what a wealth of sorrow in a few words! Poor Mrs. Westenra! Poor +Lucy! Gone, gone, never to return to us! And poor, poor Arthur, to +have lost such a sweetness out of his life! God help us all to bear +our troubles. + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY-CONT. + +22 September.--It is all over. Arthur has gone back to Ring, and has +taken Quincey Morris with him. What a fine fellow is Quincey! I +believe in my heart of hearts that he suffered as much about Lucy's +death as any of us, but he bore himself through it like a moral +Viking. If America can go on breeding men like that, she will be a +power in the world indeed. Van Helsing is lying down, having a rest +preparatory to his journey. He goes to Amsterdam tonight, but says he +returns tomorrow night, that he only wants to make some arrangements +which can only be made personally. He is to stop with me then, if he +can. He says he has work to do in London which may take him some +time. Poor old fellow! I fear that the strain of the past week has +broken down even his iron strength. All the time of the burial he +was, I could see, putting some terrible restraint on himself. When it +was all over, we were standing beside Arthur, who, poor fellow, was +speaking of his part in the operation where his blood had been +transfused to his Lucy's veins. I could see Van Helsing's face grow +white and purple by turns. Arthur was saying that he felt since then +as if they two had been really married, and that she was his wife in +the sight of God. None of us said a word of the other operations, and +none of us ever shall. Arthur and Quincey went away together to the +station, and Van Helsing and I came on here. The moment we were alone +in the carriage he gave way to a regular fit of hysterics. He has +denied to me since that it was hysterics, and insisted that it was +only his sense of humor asserting itself under very terrible +conditions. He laughed till he cried, and I had to draw down the +blinds lest any one should see us and misjudge. And then he cried, +till he laughed again, and laughed and cried together, just as a woman +does. I tried to be stern with him, as one is to a woman under the +circumstances, but it had no effect. Men and women are so different +in manifestations of nervous strength or weakness! Then when his face +grew grave and stern again I asked him why his mirth, and why at such +a time. His reply was in a way characteristic of him, for it was +logical and forceful and mysterious. He said, + +"Ah, you don't comprehend, friend John. Do not think that I am not +sad, though I laugh. See, I have cried even when the laugh did choke +me. But no more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh +he come just the same. Keep it always with you that laughter who +knock at your door and say, 'May I come in?' is not true laughter. +No! He is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no +person, he choose no time of suitability. He say, 'I am here.' +Behold, in example I grieve my heart out for that so sweet young +girl. I give my blood for her, though I am old and worn. I give my +time, my skill, my sleep. I let my other sufferers want that she may +have all. And yet I can laugh at her very grave, laugh when the clay +from the spade of the sexton drop upon her coffin and say 'Thud, +thud!' to my heart, till it send back the blood from my cheek. My +heart bleed for that poor boy, that dear boy, so of the age of mine +own boy had I been so blessed that he live, and with his hair and eyes +the same. + +"There, you know now why I love him so. And yet when he say things +that touch my husband-heart to the quick, and make my father-heart +yearn to him as to no other man, not even you, friend John, for we are +more level in experiences than father and son, yet even at such a +moment King Laugh he come to me and shout and bellow in my ear, 'Here I +am! Here I am!' till the blood come dance back and bring some of the +sunshine that he carry with him to my cheek. Oh, friend John, it is a +strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and +troubles. And yet when King Laugh come, he make them all dance to the +tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and +tears that burn as they fall, all dance together to the music that he +make with that smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John, +that he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are like +ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us different ways. Then tears +come, and like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps +the strain become too great, and we break. But King Laugh he come +like the sunshine, and he ease off the strain again, and we bear to go +on with our labor, what it may be." + +I did not like to wound him by pretending not to see his idea, but as +I did not yet understand the cause of his laughter, I asked him. As +he answered me his face grew stern, and he said in quite a different +tone, + +"Oh, it was the grim irony of it all, this so lovely lady garlanded +with flowers, that looked so fair as life, till one by one we wondered +if she were truly dead, she laid in that so fine marble house in that +lonely churchyard, where rest so many of her kin, laid there with the +mother who loved her, and whom she loved, and that sacred bell going +'Toll! Toll! Toll!' so sad and slow, and those holy men, with the +white garments of the angel, pretending to read books, and yet all the +time their eyes never on the page, and all of us with the bowed head. +And all for what? She is dead, so! Is it not?" + +"Well, for the life of me, Professor," I said, "I can't see anything +to laugh at in all that. Why, your expression makes it a harder +puzzle than before. But even if the burial service was comic, what +about poor Art and his trouble? Why his heart was simply breaking." + +"Just so. Said he not that the transfusion of his blood to her veins +had made her truly his bride?" + +"Yes, and it was a sweet and comforting idea for him." + +"Quite so. But there was a difficulty, friend John. If so that, then +what about the others? Ho, ho! Then this so sweet maid is a +polyandrist, and me, with my poor wife dead to me, but alive by +Church's law, though no wits, all gone, even I, who am faithful +husband to this now-no-wife, am bigamist." + +"I don't see where the joke comes in there either!" I said, and I did +not feel particularly pleased with him for saying such things. He +laid his hand on my arm, and said, + +"Friend John, forgive me if I pain. I showed not my feeling to others +when it would wound, but only to you, my old friend, whom I can trust. +If you could have looked into my heart then when I want to laugh, if +you could have done so when the laugh arrived, if you could do so now, +when King Laugh have pack up his crown, and all that is to him, for he +go far, far away from me, and for a long, long time, maybe you would +perhaps pity me the most of all." + +I was touched by the tenderness of his tone, and asked why. + +"Because I know!" + +And now we are all scattered, and for many a long day loneliness will +sit over our roofs with brooding wings. Lucy lies in the tomb of her +kin, a lordly death house in a lonely churchyard, away from teeming +London, where the air is fresh, and the sun rises over Hampstead Hill, +and where wild flowers grow of their own accord. + +So I can finish this diary, and God only knows if I shall ever begin +another. If I do, or if I even open this again, it will be to deal +with different people and different themes, for here at the end, where +the romance of my life is told, ere I go back to take up the thread of +my life-work, I say sadly and without hope, "FINIS". + + + + +THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY + +The neighborhood of Hampstead is just at present exercised +with a series of events which seem to run on lines parallel +to those of what was known to the writers of headlines as +"The Kensington Horror," or "The Stabbing Woman," or "The +Woman in Black." During the past two or three days several +cases have occurred of young children straying from home or +neglecting to return from their playing on the Heath. In +all these cases the children were too young to give any +properly intelligible account of themselves, but the +consensus of their excuses is that they had been with a +"bloofer lady." It has always been late in the evening when +they have been missed, and on two occasions the children +have not been found until early in the following morning. +It is generally supposed in the neighborhood that, as the +first child missed gave as his reason for being away that a +"bloofer lady" had asked him to come for a walk, the others +had picked up the phrase and used it as occasion served. This +is the more natural as the favourite game of the little ones +at present is luring each other away by wiles. A correspondent +writes us that to see some of the tiny tots pretending to be the +"bloofer lady" is supremely funny. Some of our caricaturists +might, he says, take a lesson in the irony of grotesque by +comparing the reality and the picture. It is only in accordance +with general principles of human nature that the "bloofer lady" +should be the popular role at these al fresco performances. Our +correspondent naively says that even Ellen Terry could not be so +winningly attractive as some of these grubby-faced little +children pretend, and even imagine themselves, to be. + +There is, however, possibly a serious side to the question, +for some of the children, indeed all who have been missed +at night, have been slightly torn or wounded in the throat. +The wounds seem such as might be made by a rat or a small +dog, and although of not much importance individually, would tend +to show that whatever animal inflicts them has a system or method +of its own. The police of the division have been instructed to +keep a sharp lookout for straying children, especially when very +young, in and around Hampstead Heath, and for any stray dog which +may be about. + + + + +THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER EXTRA SPECIAL + +THE HAMPSTEAD HORROR + + +ANOTHER CHILD INJURED + +THE "BLOOFER LADY" + +We have just received intelligence that another child, +missed last night, was only discovered late in the morning +under a furze bush at the Shooter's Hill side of Hampstead +Heath, which is perhaps, less frequented than the other +parts. It has the same tiny wound in the throat as has +been noticed in other cases. It was terribly weak, and +looked quite emaciated. It too, when partially restored, +had the common story to tell of being lured away by the +"bloofer lady". + + + + +CHAPTER 14 + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +23 September.--Jonathan is better after a bad night. I am so glad +that he has plenty of work to do, for that keeps his mind off the +terrible things, and oh, I am rejoiced that he is not now weighed down +with the responsibility of his new position. I knew he would be true +to himself, and now how proud I am to see my Jonathan rising to the +height of his advancement and keeping pace in all ways with the duties +that come upon him. He will be away all day till late, for he said he +could not lunch at home. My household work is done, so I shall take +his foreign journal, and lock myself up in my room and read it. + + +24 September.--I hadn't the heart to write last night, that terrible +record of Jonathan's upset me so. Poor dear! How he must have +suffered, whether it be true or only imagination. I wonder if there +is any truth in it at all. Did he get his brain fever, and then write +all those terrible things, or had he some cause for it all? I suppose +I shall never know, for I dare not open the subject to him. And yet +that man we saw yesterday! He seemed quite certain of him, poor +fellow! I suppose it was the funeral upset him and sent his mind back +on some train of thought. + +He believes it all himself. I remember how on our wedding day he said +"Unless some solemn duty come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, +asleep or awake, mad or sane . . ." There seems to be through it all +some thread of continuity. That fearful Count was coming to London. +If it should be, and he came to London, with its teeming millions . . . +There may be a solemn duty, and if it come we must not shrink from +it. I shall be prepared. I shall get my typewriter this very hour +and begin transcribing. Then we shall be ready for other eyes if +required. And if it be wanted, then, perhaps, if I am ready, poor +Jonathan may not be upset, for I can speak for him and never let him +be troubled or worried with it at all. If ever Jonathan quite gets +over the nervousness he may want to tell me of it all, and I can ask +him questions and find out things, and see how I may comfort him. + + + + +LETTER, VAN HELSING TO MRS. HARKER + +24 September + +(Confidence) + +"Dear Madam, + +"I pray you to pardon my writing, in that I am so far +friend as that I sent to you sad news of Miss Lucy +Westenra's death. By the kindness of Lord Godalming, I am +empowered to read her letters and papers, for I am deeply +concerned about certain matters vitally important. In them +I find some letters from you, which show how great friends +you were and how you love her. Oh, Madam Mina, by that +love, I implore you, help me. It is for others' good that +I ask, to redress great wrong, and to lift much and terrible +troubles, that may be more great than you can know. May it be +that I see you? You can trust me. I am friend of Dr. John +Seward and of Lord Godalming (that was Arthur of Miss Lucy). I +must keep it private for the present from all. I should come to +Exeter to see you at once if you tell me I am privilege to come, +and where and when. I implore your pardon, Madam. I have read +your letters to poor Lucy, and know how good you are and how your +husband suffer. So I pray you, if it may be, enlighten him not, +least it may harm. Again your pardon, and forgive me. + +"VAN HELSING" + + + + +TELEGRAM, MRS. HARKER TO VAN HELSING + +25 September.--Come today by quarter past ten train if you +can catch it. Can see you any time you call. + +"WILHELMINA HARKER" + + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +25 September.--I cannot help feeling terribly excited as the time +draws near for the visit of Dr. Van Helsing, for somehow I expect that +it will throw some light upon Jonathan's sad experience, and as he +attended poor dear Lucy in her last illness, he can tell me all about +her. That is the reason of his coming. It is concerning Lucy and her +sleep-walking, and not about Jonathan. Then I shall never know the +real truth now! How silly I am. That awful journal gets hold of my +imagination and tinges everything with something of its own colour. Of +course it is about Lucy. That habit came back to the poor dear, and +that awful night on the cliff must have made her ill. I had almost +forgotten in my own affairs how ill she was afterwards. She must have +told him of her sleep-walking adventure on the cliff, and that I knew +all about it, and now he wants me to tell him what I know, so that he +may understand. I hope I did right in not saying anything of it to +Mrs. Westenra. I should never forgive myself if any act of mine, were +it even a negative one, brought harm on poor dear Lucy. I hope too, +Dr. Van Helsing will not blame me. I have had so much trouble and +anxiety of late that I feel I cannot bear more just at present. + +I suppose a cry does us all good at times, clears the air as other +rain does. Perhaps it was reading the journal yesterday that upset +me, and then Jonathan went away this morning to stay away from me a +whole day and night, the first time we have been parted since our +marriage. I do hope the dear fellow will take care of himself, and +that nothing will occur to upset him. It is two o'clock, and the +doctor will be here soon now. I shall say nothing of Jonathan's +journal unless he asks me. I am so glad I have typewritten out my own +journal, so that, in case he asks about Lucy, I can hand it to him. +It will save much questioning. + +Later.--He has come and gone. Oh, what a strange meeting, and how it +all makes my head whirl round. I feel like one in a dream. Can it be +all possible, or even a part of it? If I had not read Jonathan's +journal first, I should never have accepted even a possibility. Poor, +poor, dear Jonathan! How he must have suffered. Please the good God, +all this may not upset him again. I shall try to save him from it. +But it may be even a consolation and a help to him, terrible though it +be and awful in its consequences, to know for certain that his eyes +and ears and brain did not deceive him, and that it is all true. It +may be that it is the doubt which haunts him, that when the doubt is +removed, no matter which, waking or dreaming, may prove the truth, he +will be more satisfied and better able to bear the shock. Dr. Van +Helsing must be a good man as well as a clever one if he is Arthur's +friend and Dr. Seward's, and if they brought him all the way from +Holland to look after Lucy. I feel from having seen him that he is +good and kind and of a noble nature. When he comes tomorrow I shall +ask him about Jonathan. And then, please God, all this sorrow and +anxiety may lead to a good end. I used to think I would like to +practice interviewing. Jonathan's friend on "The Exeter News" told +him that memory is everything in such work, that you must be able to +put down exactly almost every word spoken, even if you had to refine +some of it afterwards. Here was a rare interview. I shall try to +record it verbatim. + +It was half-past two o'clock when the knock came. I took my courage a +deux mains and waited. In a few minutes Mary opened the door, and +announced "Dr. Van Helsing". + +I rose and bowed, and he came towards me, a man of medium weight, +strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest +and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. The +poise of the head strikes me at once as indicative of thought and +power. The head is noble, well-sized, broad, and large behind the +ears. The face, clean-shaven, shows a hard, square chin, a large +resolute, mobile mouth, a good-sized nose, rather straight, but with +quick, sensitive nostrils, that seem to broaden as the big bushy brows +come down and the mouth tightens. The forehead is broad and fine, +rising at first almost straight and then sloping back above two bumps +or ridges wide apart, such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot +possibly tumble over it, but falls naturally back and to the sides. +Big, dark blue eyes are set widely apart, and are quick and tender or +stern with the man's moods. He said to me, + +"Mrs. Harker, is it not?" I bowed assent. + +"That was Miss Mina Murray?" Again I assented. + +"It is Mina Murray that I came to see that was friend of that poor dear +child Lucy Westenra. Madam Mina, it is on account of the dead that I +come." + +"Sir," I said, "you could have no better claim on me than that you +were a friend and helper of Lucy Westenra." And I held out my hand. +He took it and said tenderly, + +"Oh, Madam Mina, I know that the friend of that poor little girl must +be good, but I had yet to learn . . ." He finished his speech with a +courtly bow. I asked him what it was that he wanted to see me about, +so he at once began. + +"I have read your letters to Miss Lucy. Forgive me, but I had to +begin to inquire somewhere, and there was none to ask. I know that +you were with her at Whitby. She sometimes kept a diary, you need not +look surprised, Madam Mina. It was begun after you had left, and was +an imitation of you, and in that diary she traces by inference certain +things to a sleep-walking in which she puts down that you saved her. +In great perplexity then I come to you, and ask you out of your so +much kindness to tell me all of it that you can remember." + +"I can tell you, I think, Dr. Van Helsing, all about it." + +"Ah, then you have good memory for facts, for details? It is not +always so with young ladies." + +"No, doctor, but I wrote it all down at the time. I can show it to +you if you like." + +"Oh, Madam Mina, I well be grateful. You will do me much favour." + +I could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit, I suppose +it is some taste of the original apple that remains still in our +mouths, so I handed him the shorthand diary. He took it with a +grateful bow, and said, "May I read it?" + +"If you wish," I answered as demurely as I could. He opened it, and +for an instant his face fell. Then he stood up and bowed. + +"Oh, you so clever woman!" he said. "I knew long that Mr. Jonathan +was a man of much thankfulness, but see, his wife have all the good +things. And will you not so much honour me and so help me as to read +it for me? Alas! I know not the shorthand." + +By this time my little joke was over, and I was almost ashamed. So I +took the typewritten copy from my work basket and handed it to him. + +"Forgive me," I said. "I could not help it, but I had been thinking +that it was of dear Lucy that you wished to ask, and so that you might +not have time to wait, not on my account, but because I know your time +must be precious, I have written it out on the typewriter for you." + +He took it and his eyes glistened. "You are so good," he said. "And +may I read it now? I may want to ask you some things when I have +read." + +"By all means," I said, "read it over whilst I order lunch, and then +you can ask me questions whilst we eat." + +He bowed and settled himself in a chair with his back to the light, +and became so absorbed in the papers, whilst I went to see after lunch +chiefly in order that he might not be disturbed. When I came back, I +found him walking hurriedly up and down the room, his face all ablaze +with excitement. He rushed up to me and took me by both hands. + +"Oh, Madam Mina," he said, "how can I say what I owe to you? This +paper is as sunshine. It opens the gate to me. I am dazed, I am +dazzled, with so much light, and yet clouds roll in behind the light +every time. But that you do not, cannot comprehend. Oh, but I am +grateful to you, you so clever woman. Madame," he said this very +solemnly, "if ever Abraham Van Helsing can do anything for you or +yours, I trust you will let me know. It will be pleasure and delight +if I may serve you as a friend, as a friend, but all I have ever +learned, all I can ever do, shall be for you and those you love. There +are darknesses in life, and there are lights. You are one of the +lights. You will have a happy life and a good life, and your husband +will be blessed in you." + +"But, doctor, you praise me too much, and you do not know me." + +"Not know you, I, who am old, and who have studied all my life men and +women, I who have made my specialty the brain and all that belongs to +him and all that follow from him! And I have read your diary that you +have so goodly written for me, and which breathes out truth in every +line. I, who have read your so sweet letter to poor Lucy of your +marriage and your trust, not know you! Oh, Madam Mina, good women +tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such +things that angels can read. And we men who wish to know have in us +something of angels' eyes. Your husband is noble nature, and you are +noble too, for you trust, and trust cannot be where there is mean +nature. And your husband, tell me of him. Is he quite well? Is all +that fever gone, and is he strong and hearty?" + +I saw here an opening to ask him about Jonathan, so I said, "He was +almost recovered, but he has been greatly upset by Mr. Hawkins death." + +He interrupted, "Oh, yes. I know. I know. I have read your last two +letters." + +I went on, "I suppose this upset him, for when we were in town on +Thursday last he had a sort of shock." + +"A shock, and after brain fever so soon! That is not good. What kind +of shock was it?" + +"He thought he saw some one who recalled something terrible, something +which led to his brain fever." And here the whole thing seemed to +overwhelm me in a rush. The pity for Jonathan, the horror which he +experienced, the whole fearful mystery of his diary, and the fear that +has been brooding over me ever since, all came in a tumult. I suppose +I was hysterical, for I threw myself on my knees and held up my hands +to him, and implored him to make my husband well again. He took my +hands and raised me up, and made me sit on the sofa, and sat by me. He +held my hand in his, and said to me with, oh, such infinite sweetness, + +"My life is a barren and lonely one, and so full of work that I have +not had much time for friendships, but since I have been summoned to +here by my friend John Seward I have known so many good people and +seen such nobility that I feel more than ever, and it has grown with +my advancing years, the loneliness of my life. Believe me, then, that +I come here full of respect for you, and you have given me hope, hope, +not in what I am seeking of, but that there are good women still left +to make life happy, good women, whose lives and whose truths may make +good lesson for the children that are to be. I am glad, glad, that I +may here be of some use to you. For if your husband suffer, he suffer +within the range of my study and experience. I promise you that I +will gladly do all for him that I can, all to make his life strong and +manly, and your life a happy one. Now you must eat. You are +overwrought and perhaps over-anxious. Husband Jonathan would not like +to see you so pale, and what he like not where he love, is not to his +good. Therefore for his sake you must eat and smile. You have told +me about Lucy, and so now we shall not speak of it, lest it distress. +I shall stay in Exeter tonight, for I want to think much over what you +have told me, and when I have thought I will ask you questions, if I +may. And then too, you will tell me of husband Jonathan's trouble so +far as you can, but not yet. You must eat now, afterwards you shall +tell me all." + +After lunch, when we went back to the drawing room, he said to me, +"And now tell me all about him." + +When it came to speaking to this great learned man, I began to fear +that he would think me a weak fool, and Jonathan a madman, that +journal is all so strange, and I hesitated to go on. But he was so +sweet and kind, and he had promised to help, and I trusted him, so I +said, + +"Dr. Van Helsing, what I have to tell you is so queer that you must +not laugh at me or at my husband. I have been since yesterday in a +sort of fever of doubt. You must be kind to me, and not think me +foolish that I have even half believed some very strange things." + +He reassured me by his manner as well as his words when he said, "Oh, +my dear, if you only know how strange is the matter regarding which I +am here, it is you who would laugh. I have learned not to think +little of any one's belief, no matter how strange it may be. I have +tried to keep an open mind, and it is not the ordinary things of life +that could close it, but the strange things, the extraordinary things, +the things that make one doubt if they be mad or sane." + +"Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You have taken a weight off my +mind. If you will let me, I shall give you a paper to read. It is +long, but I have typewritten it out. It will tell you my trouble and +Jonathan's. It is the copy of his journal when abroad, and all that +happened. I dare not say anything of it. You will read for yourself +and judge. And then when I see you, perhaps, you will be very kind +and tell me what you think." + +"I promise," he said as I gave him the papers. "I shall in the +morning, as soon as I can, come to see you and your husband, if I +may." + +"Jonathan will be here at half-past eleven, and you must come to lunch +with us and see him then. You could catch the quick 3:34 train, which +will leave you at Paddington before eight." He was surprised at my +knowledge of the trains offhand, but he does not know that I have made +up all the trains to and from Exeter, so that I may help Jonathan in +case he is in a hurry. + +So he took the papers with him and went away, and I sit here thinking, +thinking I don't know what. + + + + +LETTER (by hand), VAN HELSING TO MRS. HARKER + +25 September, 6 o'clock + +"Dear Madam Mina, + +"I have read your husband's so wonderful diary. You may +sleep without doubt. Strange and terrible as it is, it is +true! I will pledge my life on it. It may be worse for +others, but for him and you there is no dread. He is a +noble fellow, and let me tell you from experience of men, +that one who would do as he did in going down that wall and +to that room, aye, and going a second time, is not one to +be injured in permanence by a shock. His brain and his +heart are all right, this I swear, before I have even seen +him, so be at rest. I shall have much to ask him of other +things. I am blessed that today I come to see you, for I +have learn all at once so much that again I am dazzled, +dazzled more than ever, and I must think. + +"Yours the most faithful, + +"Abraham Van Helsing." + + +LETTER, MRS. HARKER TO VAN HELSING + +25 September, 6:30 P.M. + +"My dear Dr. Van Helsing, + +"A thousand thanks for your kind letter, which has taken a +great weight off my mind. And yet, if it be true, what +terrible things there are in the world, and what an awful +thing if that man, that monster, be really in London! I +fear to think. I have this moment, whilst writing, had a +wire from Jonathan, saying that he leaves by the 6:25 tonight +from Launceston and will be here at 10:18, so that I shall have +no fear tonight. Will you, therefore, instead of lunching with +us, please come to breakfast at eight o'clock, if this be not too +early for you? You can get away, if you are in a hurry, by the +10:30 train, which will bring you to Paddington by 2:35. Do not +answer this, as I shall take it that, if I do not hear, you will +come to breakfast. + +"Believe me, + +"Your faithful and grateful friend, + +"Mina Harker." + + + + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +26 September.--I thought never to write in this diary again, but the +time has come. When I got home last night Mina had supper ready, and +when we had supped she told me of Van Helsing's visit, and of her +having given him the two diaries copied out, and of how anxious she +has been about me. She showed me in the doctor's letter that all I +wrote down was true. It seems to have made a new man of me. It was +the doubt as to the reality of the whole thing that knocked me over. +I felt impotent, and in the dark, and distrustful. But, now that I +know, I am not afraid, even of the Count. He has succeeded after all, +then, in his design in getting to London, and it was he I saw. He has +got younger, and how? Van Helsing is the man to unmask him and hunt +him out, if he is anything like what Mina says. We sat late, and +talked it over. Mina is dressing, and I shall call at the hotel in a +few minutes and bring him over. + + +He was, I think, surprised to see me. When I came into the room where +he was, and introduced myself, he took me by the shoulder, and turned +my face round to the light, and said, after a sharp scrutiny, + +"But Madam Mina told me you were ill, that you had had a shock." + +It was so funny to hear my wife called 'Madam Mina' by this kindly, +strong-faced old man. I smiled, and said, "I was ill, I have had a +shock, but you have cured me already." + +"And how?" + +"By your letter to Mina last night. I was in doubt, and then +everything took a hue of unreality, and I did not know what to trust, +even the evidence of my own senses. Not knowing what to trust, I did +not know what to do, and so had only to keep on working in what had +hitherto been the groove of my life. The groove ceased to avail me, +and I mistrusted myself. Doctor, you don't know what it is to doubt +everything, even yourself. No, you don't, you couldn't with eyebrows +like yours." + +He seemed pleased, and laughed as he said, "So! You are a +physiognomist. I learn more here with each hour. I am with so much +pleasure coming to you to breakfast, and, oh, sir, you will pardon +praise from an old man, but you are blessed in your wife." + +I would listen to him go on praising Mina for a day, so I simply +nodded and stood silent. + +"She is one of God's women, fashioned by His own hand to show us men +and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that +its light can be here on earth. So true, so sweet, so noble, so +little an egoist, and that, let me tell you, is much in this age, so +sceptical and selfish. And you, sir . . . I have read all the letters +to poor Miss Lucy, and some of them speak of you, so I know you since +some days from the knowing of others, but I have seen your true self +since last night. You will give me your hand, will you not? And let +us be friends for all our lives." + +We shook hands, and he was so earnest and so kind that it made me +quite choky. + +"And now," he said, "may I ask you for some more help? I have a great +task to do, and at the beginning it is to know. You can help me +here. Can you tell me what went before your going to Transylvania? +Later on I may ask more help, and of a different kind, but at first +this will do." + +"Look here, Sir," I said, "does what you have to do concern the +Count?" + +"It does," he said solemnly. + +"Then I am with you heart and soul. As you go by the 10:30 train, you +will not have time to read them, but I shall get the bundle of papers. +You can take them with you and read them in the train." + +After breakfast I saw him to the station. When we were parting he +said, "Perhaps you will come to town if I send for you, and take Madam +Mina too." + +"We shall both come when you will," I said. + +I had got him the morning papers and the London papers of the previous +night, and while we were talking at the carriage window, waiting for +the train to start, he was turning them over. His eyes suddenly +seemed to catch something in one of them, "The Westminster Gazette", I +knew it by the colour, and he grew quite white. He read something +intently, groaning to himself, "Mein Gott! Mein Gott! So soon! So +soon!" I do not think he remembered me at the moment. Just then the +whistle blew, and the train moved off. This recalled him to himself, +and he leaned out of the window and waved his hand, calling out, "Love +to Madam Mina. I shall write so soon as ever I can." + + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +26 September.--Truly there is no such thing as finality. Not a week +since I said "Finis," and yet here I am starting fresh again, or +rather going on with the record. Until this afternoon I had no cause +to think of what is done. Renfield had become, to all intents, as +sane as he ever was. He was already well ahead with his fly business, +and he had just started in the spider line also, so he had not been of +any trouble to me. I had a letter from Arthur, written on Sunday, and +from it I gather that he is bearing up wonderfully well. Quincey +Morris is with him, and that is much of a help, for he himself is a +bubbling well of good spirits. Quincey wrote me a line too, and from +him I hear that Arthur is beginning to recover something of his old +buoyancy, so as to them all my mind is at rest. As for myself, I was +settling down to my work with the enthusiasm which I used to have for +it, so that I might fairly have said that the wound which poor Lucy +left on me was becoming cicatrised. + +Everything is, however, now reopened, and what is to be the end God +only knows. I have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he knows, too, but +he will only let out enough at a time to whet curiosity. He went to +Exeter yesterday, and stayed there all night. Today he came back, and +almost bounded into the room at about half-past five o'clock, and +thrust last night's "Westminster Gazette" into my hand. + +"What do you think of that?" he asked as he stood back and folded his +arms. + +I looked over the paper, for I really did not know what he meant, but +he took it from me and pointed out a paragraph about children being +decoyed away at Hampstead. It did not convey much to me, until I +reached a passage where it described small puncture wounds on their +throats. An idea struck me, and I looked up. + +"Well?" he said. + +"It is like poor Lucy's." + +"And what do you make of it?" + +"Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever it was that +injured her has injured them." I did not quite understand his answer. + +"That is true indirectly, but not directly." + +"How do you mean, Professor?" I asked. I was a little inclined to +take his seriousness lightly, for, after all, four days of rest and +freedom from burning, harrowing, anxiety does help to restore one's +spirits, but when I saw his face, it sobered me. Never, even in the +midst of our despair about poor Lucy, had he looked more stern. + +"Tell me!" I said. "I can hazard no opinion. I do not know what to +think, and I have no data on which to found a conjecture." + +"Do you mean to tell me, friend John, that you have no suspicion as to +what poor Lucy died of, not after all the hints given, not only by +events, but by me?" + +"Of nervous prostration following a great loss or waste of blood." + +"And how was the blood lost or wasted?" I shook my head. + +He stepped over and sat down beside me, and went on, "You are a clever +man, friend John. You reason well, and your wit is bold, but you are +too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and +that which is outside your daily life is not of account to you. Do +you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and +yet which are, that some people see things that others cannot? But +there are things old and new which must not be contemplated by men's +eyes, because they know, or think they know, some things which other +men have told them. Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants +to explain all, and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing +to explain. But yet we see around us every day the growth of new +beliefs, which think themselves new, and which are yet but the old, +which pretend to be young, like the fine ladies at the opera. I +suppose now you do not believe in corporeal transference. No? Nor in +materialization. No? Nor in astral bodies. No? Nor in the reading +of thought. No? Nor in hypnotism . . ." + +"Yes," I said. "Charcot has proved that pretty well." + +He smiled as he went on, "Then you are satisfied as to it. Yes? And +of course then you understand how it act, and can follow the mind of +the great Charcot, alas that he is no more, into the very soul of the +patient that he influence. No? Then, friend John, am I to take it +that you simply accept fact, and are satisfied to let from premise to +conclusion be a blank? No? Then tell me, for I am a student of the +brain, how you accept hypnotism and reject the thought reading. Let +me tell you, my friend, that there are things done today in electrical +science which would have been deemed unholy by the very man who +discovered electricity, who would themselves not so long before been +burned as wizards. There are always mysteries in life. Why was it +that Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and 'Old Parr' one hundred +and sixty-nine, and yet that poor Lucy, with four men's blood in her +poor veins, could not live even one day? For, had she live one more +day, we could save her. Do you know all the mystery of life and +death? Do you know the altogether of comparative anatomy and can say +wherefore the qualities of brutes are in some men, and not in others? +Can you tell me why, when other spiders die small and soon, that one +great spider lived for centuries in the tower of the old Spanish +church and grew and grew, till, on descending, he could drink the oil +of all the church lamps? Can you tell me why in the Pampas, ay and +elsewhere, there are bats that come out at night and open the veins of +cattle and horses and suck dry their veins, how in some islands of the +Western seas there are bats which hang on the trees all day, and those +who have seen describe as like giant nuts or pods, and that when the +sailors sleep on the deck, because that it is hot, flit down on them +and then, and then in the morning are found dead men, white as even +Miss Lucy was?" + +"Good God, Professor!" I said, starting up. "Do you mean to tell me +that Lucy was bitten by such a bat, and that such a thing is here in +London in the nineteenth century?" + +He waved his hand for silence, and went on, "Can you tell me why the +tortoise lives more long than generations of men, why the elephant +goes on and on till he have sees dynasties, and why the parrot never +die only of bite of cat of dog or other complaint? Can you tell me +why men believe in all ages and places that there are men and women +who cannot die? We all know, because science has vouched for the +fact, that there have been toads shut up in rocks for thousands of +years, shut in one so small hole that only hold him since the youth of +the world. Can you tell me how the Indian fakir can make himself to +die and have been buried, and his grave sealed and corn sowed on it, +and the corn reaped and be cut and sown and reaped and cut again, and +then men come and take away the unbroken seal and that there lie the +Indian fakir, not dead, but that rise up and walk amongst them as +before?" + +Here I interrupted him. I was getting bewildered. He so crowded on +my mind his list of nature's eccentricities and possible +impossibilities that my imagination was getting fired. I had a dim +idea that he was teaching me some lesson, as long ago he used to do in +his study at Amsterdam. But he used them to tell me the thing, so +that I could have the object of thought in mind all the time. But now +I was without his help, yet I wanted to follow him, so I said, + +"Professor, let me be your pet student again. Tell me the thesis, so +that I may apply your knowledge as you go on. At present I am going +in my mind from point to point as a madman, and not a sane one, +follows an idea. I feel like a novice lumbering through a bog in a +midst, jumping from one tussock to another in the mere blind effort to +move on without knowing where I am going." + +"That is a good image," he said. "Well, I shall tell you. My thesis +is this, I want you to believe." + +"To believe what?" + +"To believe in things that you cannot. Let me illustrate. I heard +once of an American who so defined faith, 'that faculty which enables +us to believe things which we know to be untrue.' For one, I follow +that man. He meant that we shall have an open mind, and not let a +little bit of truth check the rush of the big truth, like a small rock +does a railway truck. We get the small truth first. Good! We keep +him, and we value him, but all the same we must not let him think +himself all the truth in the universe." + +"Then you want me not to let some previous conviction inure the +receptivity of my mind with regard to some strange matter. Do I read +your lesson aright?" + +"Ah, you are my favourite pupil still. It is worth to teach you. Now +that you are willing to understand, you have taken the first step to +understand. You think then that those so small holes in the +children's throats were made by the same that made the holes in Miss +Lucy?" + +"I suppose so." + +He stood up and said solemnly, "Then you are wrong. Oh, would it were +so! But alas! No. It is worse, far, far worse." + +"In God's name, Professor Van Helsing, what do you mean?" I cried. + +He threw himself with a despairing gesture into a chair, and placed +his elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands as he spoke. + +"They were made by Miss Lucy!" + + + + +CHAPTER 15 + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont. + +For a while sheer anger mastered me. It was as if he had during her +life struck Lucy on the face. I smote the table hard and rose up as I +said to him, "Dr. Van Helsing, are you mad?" + +He raised his head and looked at me, and somehow the tenderness of his +face calmed me at once. "Would I were!" he said. "Madness were easy +to bear compared with truth like this. Oh, my friend, why, think +you, did I go so far round, why take so long to tell so simple a +thing? Was it because I hate you and have hated you all my life? Was +it because I wished to give you pain? Was it that I wanted, now so +late, revenge for that time when you saved my life, and from a fearful +death? Ah no!" + +"Forgive me," said I. + +He went on, "My friend, it was because I wished to be gentle in the +breaking to you, for I know you have loved that so sweet lady. But +even yet I do not expect you to believe. It is so hard to accept at +once any abstract truth, that we may doubt such to be possible when we +have always believed the 'no' of it. It is more hard still to accept +so sad a concrete truth, and of such a one as Miss Lucy. Tonight I go +to prove it. Dare you come with me?" + +This staggered me. A man does not like to prove such a truth, Byron +excepted from the category, jealousy. + + "And prove the very truth he most abhorred." + +He saw my hesitation, and spoke, "The logic is simple, no madman's +logic this time, jumping from tussock to tussock in a misty bog. If +it not be true, then proof will be relief. At worst it will not harm. +If it be true! Ah, there is the dread. Yet every dread should help my +cause, for in it is some need of belief. Come, I tell you what I +propose. First, that we go off now and see that child in the +hospital. Dr. Vincent, of the North Hospital, where the papers say +the child is, is a friend of mine, and I think of yours since you were +in class at Amsterdam. He will let two scientists see his case, if he +will not let two friends. We shall tell him nothing, but only that we +wish to learn. And then . . ." + +"And then?" + +He took a key from his pocket and held it up. "And then we spend the +night, you and I, in the churchyard where Lucy lies. This is the key +that lock the tomb. I had it from the coffin man to give to Arthur." + +My heart sank within me, for I felt that there was some fearful ordeal +before us. I could do nothing, however, so I plucked up what heart I +could and said that we had better hasten, as the afternoon was +passing. + +We found the child awake. It had had a sleep and taken some food, and +altogether was going on well. Dr. Vincent took the bandage from its +throat, and showed us the punctures. There was no mistaking the +similarity to those which had been on Lucy's throat. They were +smaller, and the edges looked fresher, that was all. We asked Vincent +to what he attributed them, and he replied that it must have been a +bite of some animal, perhaps a rat, but for his own part, he was +inclined to think it was one of the bats which are so numerous on the +northern heights of London. "Out of so many harmless ones," he said, +"there may be some wild specimen from the South of a more malignant +species. Some sailor may have brought one home, and it managed to +escape, or even from the Zoological Gardens a young one may have got +loose, or one be bred there from a vampire. These things do occur, +you, know. Only ten days ago a wolf got out, and was, I believe, +traced up in this direction. For a week after, the children were +playing nothing but Red Riding Hood on the Heath and in every alley in +the place until this 'bloofer lady' scare came along, since then it +has been quite a gala time with them. Even this poor little mite, +when he woke up today, asked the nurse if he might go away. When she +asked him why he wanted to go, he said he wanted to play with the +'bloofer lady'." + +"I hope," said Van Helsing, "that when you are sending the child home +you will caution its parents to keep strict watch over it. These +fancies to stray are most dangerous, and if the child were to remain +out another night, it would probably be fatal. But in any case I +suppose you will not let it away for some days?" + +"Certainly not, not for a week at least, longer if the wound is not +healed." + +Our visit to the hospital took more time than we had reckoned on, and +the sun had dipped before we came out. When Van Helsing saw how dark +it was, he said, + +"There is not hurry. It is more late than I thought. Come, let us +seek somewhere that we may eat, and then we shall go on our way." + +We dined at 'Jack Straw's Castle' along with a little crowd of +bicyclists and others who were genially noisy. About ten o'clock we +started from the inn. It was then very dark, and the scattered lamps +made the darkness greater when we were once outside their individual +radius. The Professor had evidently noted the road we were to go, for +he went on unhesitatingly, but, as for me, I was in quite a mixup as +to locality. As we went further, we met fewer and fewer people, till +at last we were somewhat surprised when we met even the patrol of +horse police going their usual suburban round. At last we reached the +wall of the churchyard, which we climbed over. With some little +difficulty, for it was very dark, and the whole place seemed so +strange to us, we found the Westenra tomb. The Professor took the +key, opened the creaky door, and standing back, politely, but quite +unconsciously, motioned me to precede him. There was a delicious +irony in the offer, in the courtliness of giving preference on such a +ghastly occasion. My companion followed me quickly, and cautiously +drew the door to, after carefully ascertaining that the lock was a +falling, and not a spring one. In the latter case we should have been +in a bad plight. Then he fumbled in his bag, and taking out a +matchbox and a piece of candle, proceeded to make a light. The tomb +in the daytime, and when wreathed with fresh flowers, had looked grim +and gruesome enough, but now, some days afterwards, when the flowers +hung lank and dead, their whites turning to rust and their greens to +browns, when the spider and the beetle had resumed their accustomed +dominance, when the time-discoloured stone, and dust-encrusted mortar, +and rusty, dank iron, and tarnished brass, and clouded silver-plating +gave back the feeble glimmer of a candle, the effect was more +miserable and sordid than could have been imagined. It conveyed +irresistibly the idea that life, animal life, was not the only thing +which could pass away. + +Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his candle so +that he could read the coffin plates, and so holding it that the sperm +dropped in white patches which congealed as they touched the metal, he +made assurance of Lucy's coffin. Another search in his bag, and he +took out a turnscrew. + +"What are you going to do?" I asked. + +"To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced." + +Straightway he began taking out the screws, and finally lifted off the +lid, showing the casing of lead beneath. The sight was almost too +much for me. It seemed to be as much an affront to the dead as it +would have been to have stripped off her clothing in her sleep whilst +living. I actually took hold of his hand to stop him. + +He only said, "You shall see," and again fumbling in his bag took out +a tiny fret saw. Striking the turnscrew through the lead with a swift +downward stab, which made me wince, he made a small hole, which was, +however, big enough to admit the point of the saw. I had expected a +rush of gas from the week-old corpse. We doctors, who have had to +study our dangers, have to become accustomed to such things, and I +drew back towards the door. But the Professor never stopped for a +moment. He sawed down a couple of feet along one side of the lead +coffin, and then across, and down the other side. Taking the edge of +the loose flange, he bent it back towards the foot of the coffin, and +holding up the candle into the aperture, motioned to me to look. + +I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty. It was certainly a +surprise to me, and gave me a considerable shock, but Van Helsing was +unmoved. He was now more sure than ever of his ground, and so +emboldened to proceed in his task. "Are you satisfied now, friend +John?" he asked. + +I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake within me as +I answered him, "I am satisfied that Lucy's body is not in that +coffin, but that only proves one thing." + +"And what is that, friend John?" + +"That it is not there." + +"That is good logic," he said, "so far as it goes. But how do you, +how can you, account for it not being there?" + +"Perhaps a body-snatcher," I suggested. "Some of the undertaker's +people may have stolen it." I felt that I was speaking folly, and yet +it was the only real cause which I could suggest. + +The Professor sighed. "Ah well!" he said, "we must have more proof. +Come with me." + +He put on the coffin lid again, gathered up all his things and placed +them in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the candle also in the +bag. We opened the door, and went out. Behind us he closed the door +and locked it. He handed me the key, saying, "Will you keep it? You +had better be assured." + +I laughed, it was not a very cheerful laugh, I am bound to say, as I +motioned him to keep it. "A key is nothing," I said, "there are many +duplicates, and anyhow it is not difficult to pick a lock of this +kind." + +He said nothing, but put the key in his pocket. Then he told me to +watch at one side of the churchyard whilst he would watch at the +other. + +I took up my place behind a yew tree, and I saw his dark figure move +until the intervening headstones and trees hid it from my sight. + +It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place I heard a +distant clock strike twelve, and in time came one and two. I was +chilled and unnerved, and angry with the Professor for taking me on +such an errand and with myself for coming. I was too cold and too +sleepy to be keenly observant, and not sleepy enough to betray my +trust, so altogether I had a dreary, miserable time. + +Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something like a white +streak, moving between two dark yew trees at the side of the +churchyard farthest from the tomb. At the same time a dark mass moved +from the Professor's side of the ground, and hurriedly went towards +it. Then I too moved, but I had to go round headstones and railed-off +tombs, and I stumbled over graves. The sky was overcast, and +somewhere far off an early cock crew. A little ways off, beyond a +line of scattered juniper trees, which marked the pathway to the +church, a white dim figure flitted in the direction of the tomb. The +tomb itself was hidden by trees, and I could not see where the figure +had disappeared. I heard the rustle of actual movement where I had +first seen the white figure, and coming over, found the Professor +holding in his arms a tiny child. When he saw me he held it out to +me, and said, "Are you satisfied now?" + +"No," I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive. + +"Do you not see the child?" + +"Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it wounded?" + +"We shall see," said the Professor, and with one impulse we took our +way out of the churchyard, he carrying the sleeping child. + +When we had got some little distance away, we went into a clump of +trees, and struck a match, and looked at the child's throat. It was +without a scratch or scar of any kind. + +"Was I right?" I asked triumphantly. + +"We were just in time," said the Professor thankfully. + +We had now to decide what we were to do with the child, and so +consulted about it. If we were to take it to a police station we +should have to give some account of our movements during the night. +At least, we should have had to make some statement as to how we had +come to find the child. So finally we decided that we would take it +to the Heath, and when we heard a policeman coming, would leave it +where he could not fail to find it. We would then seek our way home +as quickly as we could. All fell out well. At the edge of Hampstead +Heath we heard a policeman's heavy tramp, and laying the child on the +pathway, we waited and watched until he saw it as he flashed his +lantern to and fro. We heard his exclamation of astonishment, and +then we went away silently. By good chance we got a cab near the +'Spainiards,' and drove to town. + +I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get a few +hours' sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon. He insists +that I go with him on another expedition. + + +27 September.--It was two o'clock before we found a suitable +opportunity for our attempt. The funeral held at noon was all +completed, and the last stragglers of the mourners had taken +themselves lazily away, when, looking carefully from behind a clump of +alder trees, we saw the sexton lock the gate after him. We knew that +we were safe till morning did we desire it, but the Professor told me +that we should not want more than an hour at most. Again I felt that +horrid sense of the reality of things, in which any effort of +imagination seemed out of place, and I realized distinctly the perils +of the law which we were incurring in our unhallowed work. Besides, I +felt it was all so useless. Outrageous as it was to open a leaden +coffin, to see if a woman dead nearly a week were really dead, it now +seemed the height of folly to open the tomb again, when we knew, from +the evidence of our own eyesight, that the coffin was empty. I +shrugged my shoulders, however, and rested silent, for Van Helsing had +a way of going on his own road, no matter who remonstrated. He took +the key, opened the vault, and again courteously motioned me to +precede. The place was not so gruesome as last night, but oh, how +unutterably mean looking when the sunshine streamed in. Van Helsing +walked over to Lucy's coffin, and I followed. He bent over and again +forced back the leaden flange, and a shock of surprise and dismay shot +through me. + +There lay Lucy, seemingly just as we had seen her the night before her +funeral. She was, if possible, more radiantly beautiful than ever, +and I could not believe that she was dead. The lips were red, nay +redder than before, and on the cheeks was a delicate bloom. + +"Is this a juggle?" I said to him. + +"Are you convinced now?" said the Professor, in response, and as he +spoke he put over his hand, and in a way that made me shudder, pulled +back the dead lips and showed the white teeth. "See," he went on, +"they are even sharper than before. With this and this," and he +touched one of the canine teeth and that below it, "the little +children can be bitten. Are you of belief now, friend John?" + +Once more argumentative hostility woke within me. I could not accept +such an overwhelming idea as he suggested. So, with an attempt to +argue of which I was even at the moment ashamed, I said, "She may have +been placed here since last night." + +"Indeed? That is so, and by whom?" + +"I do not know. Someone has done it." + +"And yet she has been dead one week. Most peoples in that time would +not look so." + +I had no answer for this, so was silent. Van Helsing did not seem to +notice my silence. At any rate, he showed neither chagrin nor +triumph. He was looking intently at the face of the dead woman, +raising the eyelids and looking at the eyes, and once more opening the +lips and examining the teeth. Then he turned to me and said, + +"Here, there is one thing which is different from all recorded. Here +is some dual life that is not as the common. She was bitten by the +vampire when she was in a trance, sleep-walking, oh, you start. You +do not know that, friend John, but you shall know it later, and in +trance could he best come to take more blood. In trance she dies, and +in trance she is UnDead, too. So it is that she differ from all +other. Usually when the UnDead sleep at home," as he spoke he made a +comprehensive sweep of his arm to designate what to a vampire was +'home', "their face show what they are, but this so sweet that was +when she not UnDead she go back to the nothings of the common dead. +There is no malign there, see, and so it make hard that I must kill +her in her sleep." + +This turned my blood cold, and it began to dawn upon me that I was +accepting Van Helsing's theories. But if she were really dead, what +was there of terror in the idea of killing her? + +He looked up at me, and evidently saw the change in my face, for he +said almost joyously, "Ah, you believe now?" + +I answered, "Do not press me too hard all at once. I am willing to +accept. How will you do this bloody work?" + +"I shall cut off her head and fill her mouth with garlic, and I shall +drive a stake through her body." + +It made me shudder to think of so mutilating the body of the woman +whom I had loved. And yet the feeling was not so strong as I had +expected. I was, in fact, beginning to shudder at the presence of +this being, this UnDead, as Van Helsing called it, and to loathe it. +Is it possible that love is all subjective, or all objective? + +I waited a considerable time for Van Helsing to begin, but he stood as +if wrapped in thought. Presently he closed the catch of his bag with +a snap, and said, + +"I have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to what is best. +If I did simply follow my inclining I would do now, at this moment, +what is to be done. But there are other things to follow, and things +that are thousand times more difficult in that them we do not know. +This is simple. She have yet no life taken, though that is of time, +and to act now would be to take danger from her forever. But then we +may have to want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this? If you, +who saw the wounds on Lucy's throat, and saw the wounds so similar on +the child's at the hospital, if you, who saw the coffin empty last +night and full today with a woman who have not change only to be more +rose and more beautiful in a whole week, after she die, if you know of +this and know of the white figure last night that brought the child to +the churchyard, and yet of your own senses you did not believe, how +then, can I expect Arthur, who know none of those things, to believe? + +"He doubted me when I took him from her kiss when she was dying. I +know he has forgiven me because in some mistaken idea I have done +things that prevent him say goodbye as he ought, and he may think that +in some more mistaken idea this woman was buried alive, and that in +most mistake of all we have killed her. He will then argue back that +it is we, mistaken ones, that have killed her by our ideas, and so he +will be much unhappy always. Yet he never can be sure, and that is +the worst of all. And he will sometimes think that she he loved was +buried alive, and that will paint his dreams with horrors of what she +must have suffered, and again, he will think that we may be right, and +that his so beloved was, after all, an UnDead. No! I told him once, +and since then I learn much. Now, since I know it is all true, a +hundred thousand times more do I know that he must pass through the +bitter waters to reach the sweet. He, poor fellow, must have one hour +that will make the very face of heaven grow black to him, then we can +act for good all round and send him peace. My mind is made up. Let +us go. You return home for tonight to your asylum, and see that all +be well. As for me, I shall spend the night here in this churchyard +in my own way. Tomorrow night you will come to me to the Berkeley +Hotel at ten of the clock. I shall send for Arthur to come too, and +also that so fine young man of America that gave his blood. Later we +shall all have work to do. I come with you so far as Piccadilly and +there dine, for I must be back here before the sun set." + +So we locked the tomb and came away, and got over the wall of the +churchyard, which was not much of a task, and drove back to +Piccadilly. + + + + +NOTE LEFT BY VAN HELSING IN HIS PORTMANTEAU, BERKELEY HOTEL DIRECTED TO +JOHN SEWARD, M. D. (Not Delivered) + +27 September + +"Friend John, + +"I write this in case anything should happen. I go alone to +watch in that churchyard. It pleases me that the UnDead, +Miss Lucy, shall not leave tonight, that so on the morrow +night she may be more eager. Therefore I shall fix some +things she like not, garlic and a crucifix, and so seal up +the door of the tomb. She is young as UnDead, and will +heed. Moreover, these are only to prevent her coming out. +They may not prevail on her wanting to get in, for then the +UnDead is desperate, and must find the line of least resistance, +whatsoever it may be. I shall be at hand all the night from +sunset till after sunrise, and if there be aught that may be +learned I shall learn it. For Miss Lucy or from her, I have no +fear, but that other to whom is there that she is UnDead, he have +not the power to seek her tomb and find shelter. He is cunning, +as I know from Mr. Jonathan and from the way that all along he +have fooled us when he played with us for Miss Lucy's life, and +we lost, and in many ways the UnDead are strong. He have always +the strength in his hand of twenty men, even we four who gave our +strength to Miss Lucy it also is all to him. Besides, he can +summon his wolf and I know not what. So if it be that he came +thither on this night he shall find me. But none other shall, +until it be too late. But it may be that he will not attempt the +place. There is no reason why he should. His hunting ground is +more full of game than the churchyard where the UnDead woman +sleeps, and the one old man watch. + +"Therefore I write this in case . . . Take the papers that +are with this, the diaries of Harker and the rest, and read +them, and then find this great UnDead, and cut off his head +and burn his heart or drive a stake through it, so that the +world may rest from him. + +"If it be so, farewell. + +"VAN HELSING." + + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +28 September.--It is wonderful what a good night's sleep will do for +one. Yesterday I was almost willing to accept Van Helsing's monstrous +ideas, but now they seem to start out lurid before me as outrages on +common sense. I have no doubt that he believes it all. I wonder if +his mind can have become in any way unhinged. Surely there must be +some rational explanation of all these mysterious things. Is it +possible that the Professor can have done it himself? He is so +abnormally clever that if he went off his head he would carry out his +intent with regard to some fixed idea in a wonderful way. I am loathe +to think it, and indeed it would be almost as great a marvel as the +other to find that Van Helsing was mad, but anyhow I shall watch him +carefully. I may get some light on the mystery. + + +29 September.--Last night, at a little before ten o'clock, Arthur and +Quincey came into Van Helsing's room. He told us all what he wanted +us to do, but especially addressing himself to Arthur, as if all our +wills were centred in his. He began by saying that he hoped we would +all come with him too, "for," he said, "there is a grave duty to be +done there. You were doubtless surprised at my letter?" This query +was directly addressed to Lord Godalming. + +"I was. It rather upset me for a bit. There has been so much trouble +around my house of late that I could do without any more. I have been +curious, too, as to what you mean. + +"Quincey and I talked it over, but the more we talked, the more +puzzled we got, till now I can say for myself that I'm about up a tree +as to any meaning about anything." + +"Me too," said Quincey Morris laconically. + +"Oh," said the Professor, "then you are nearer the beginning, both of +you, than friend John here, who has to go a long way back before he +can even get so far as to begin." + +It was evident that he recognized my return to my old doubting frame +of mind without my saying a word. Then, turning to the other two, he +said with intense gravity, + +"I want your permission to do what I think good this night. It is, I +know, much to ask, and when you know what it is I propose to do you +will know, and only then how much. Therefore may I ask that you +promise me in the dark, so that afterwards, though you may be angry +with me for a time, I must not disguise from myself the possibility +that such may be, you shall not blame yourselves for anything." + +"That's frank anyhow," broke in Quincey. "I'll answer for the +Professor. I don't quite see his drift, but I swear he's honest, and +that's good enough for me." + +"I thank you, Sir," said Van Helsing proudly. "I have done myself the +honour of counting you one trusting friend, and such endorsement is +dear to me." He held out a hand, which Quincey took. + +Then Arthur spoke out, "Dr. Van Helsing, I don't quite like to 'buy a +pig in a poke', as they say in Scotland, and if it be anything in +which my honour as a gentleman or my faith as a Christian is +concerned, I cannot make such a promise. If you can assure me that +what you intend does not violate either of these two, then I give my +consent at once, though for the life of me, I cannot understand what +you are driving at." + +"I accept your limitation," said Van Helsing, "and all I ask of you is +that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act of mine, you will +first consider it well and be satisfied that it does not violate your +reservations." + +"Agreed!" said Arthur. "That is only fair. And now that the +pourparlers are over, may I ask what it is we are to do?" + +"I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the churchyard +at Kingstead." + +Arthur's face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way, + +"Where poor Lucy is buried?" + +The Professor bowed. + +Arthur went on, "And when there?" + +"To enter the tomb!" + +Arthur stood up. "Professor, are you in earnest, or is it some +monstrous joke? Pardon me, I see that you are in earnest." He sat +down again, but I could see that he sat firmly and proudly, as one who +is on his dignity. There was silence until he asked again, "And when +in the tomb?" + +"To open the coffin." + +"This is too much!" he said, angrily rising again. "I am willing to +be patient in all things that are reasonable, but in this, this +desecration of the grave, of one who . . ." He fairly choked with +indignation. + +The Professor looked pityingly at him. "If I could spare you one pang, +my poor friend," he said, "God knows I would. But this night our feet +must tread in thorny paths, or later, and for ever, the feet you love +must walk in paths of flame!" + +Arthur looked up with set white face and said, "Take care, sir, take +care!" + +"Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?" said Van Helsing. +"And then you will at least know the limit of my purpose. Shall I go +on?" + +"That's fair enough," broke in Morris. + +After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort, "Miss +Lucy is dead, is it not so? Yes! Then there can be no wrong to her. +But if she be not dead . . ." + +Arthur jumped to his feet, "Good God!" he cried. "What do you mean? +Has there been any mistake, has she been buried alive?" He groaned in +anguish that not even hope could soften. + +"I did not say she was alive, my child. I did not think it. I go no +further than to say that she might be UnDead." + +"UnDead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all a nightmare, or +what is it?" + +"There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age +they may solve only in part. Believe me, we are now on the verge of +one. But I have not done. May I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy?" + +"Heavens and earth, no!" cried Arthur in a storm of passion. "Not for +the wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her dead body. Dr. +Van Helsing, you try me too far. What have I done to you that you +should torture me so? What did that poor, sweet girl do that you +should want to cast such dishonour on her grave? Are you mad, that you +speak of such things, or am I mad to listen to them? Don't dare think +more of such a desecration. I shall not give my consent to anything +you do. I have a duty to do in protecting her grave from outrage, and +by God, I shall do it!" + +Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been seated, and +said, gravely and sternly, "My Lord Godalming, I too, have a duty to +do, a duty to others, a duty to you, a duty to the dead, and by God, I +shall do it! All I ask you now is that you come with me, that you +look and listen, and if when later I make the same request you do not +be more eager for its fulfillment even than I am, then, I shall do my +duty, whatever it may seem to me. And then, to follow your Lordship's +wishes I shall hold myself at your disposal to render an account to +you, when and where you will." His voice broke a little, and he went +on with a voice full of pity. + +"But I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a long life +of acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which sometimes did +wring my heart, I have never had so heavy a task as now. Believe me +that if the time comes for you to change your mind towards me, one +look from you will wipe away all this so sad hour, for I would do what +a man can to save you from sorrow. Just think. For why should I give +myself so much labor and so much of sorrow? I have come here from my +own land to do what I can of good, at the first to please my friend +John, and then to help a sweet young lady, whom too, I come to love. +For her, I am ashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness, I gave +what you gave, the blood of my veins. I gave it, I who was not, like +you, her lover, but only her physician and her friend. I gave her my +nights and days, before death, after death, and if my death can do her +good even now, when she is the dead UnDead, she shall have it freely." +He said this with a very grave, sweet pride, and Arthur was much +affected by it. + +He took the old man's hand and said in a broken voice, "Oh, it is hard +to think of it, and I cannot understand, but at least I shall go with +you and wait." + + + + +CHAPTER 16 + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont. + +It was just a quarter before twelve o'clock when we got into the +churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark with occasional +gleams of moonlight between the dents of the heavy clouds that scudded +across the sky. We all kept somehow close together, with Van Helsing +slightly in front as he led the way. When we had come close to the +tomb I looked well at Arthur, for I feared the proximity to a place +laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset him, but he bore himself +well. I took it that the very mystery of the proceeding was in some +way a counteractant to his grief. The Professor unlocked the door, +and seeing a natural hesitation amongst us for various reasons, solved +the difficulty by entering first himself. The rest of us followed, +and he closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and pointed to a +coffin. Arthur stepped forward hesitatingly. Van Helsing said to me, +"You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in that +coffin?" + +"It was." + +The Professor turned to the rest saying, "You hear, and yet there is +no one who does not believe with me." + +He took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the coffin. +Arthur looked on, very pale but silent. When the lid was removed he +stepped forward. He evidently did not know that there was a leaden +coffin, or at any rate, had not thought of it. When he saw the rent +in the lead, the blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as +quickly fell away again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness. +He was still silent. Van Helsing forced back the leaden flange, and +we all looked in and recoiled. + +The coffin was empty! + +For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken by +Quincey Morris, "Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all I +want. I wouldn't ask such a thing ordinarily, I wouldn't so dishonour +you as to imply a doubt, but this is a mystery that goes beyond any +honour or dishonour. Is this your doing?" + +"I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not removed or +touched her. What happened was this. Two nights ago my friend Seward +and I came here, with good purpose, believe me. I opened that coffin, +which was then sealed up, and we found it as now, empty. We then +waited, and saw something white come through the trees. The next day +we came here in daytime and she lay there. Did she not, friend John? + +"Yes." + +"That night we were just in time. One more so small child was +missing, and we find it, thank God, unharmed amongst the graves. +Yesterday I came here before sundown, for at sundown the UnDead can +move. I waited here all night till the sun rose, but I saw nothing. +It was most probable that it was because I had laid over the clamps of +those doors garlic, which the UnDead cannot bear, and other things +which they shun. Last night there was no exodus, so tonight before +the sundown I took away my garlic and other things. And so it is we +find this coffin empty. But bear with me. So far there is much that +is strange. Wait you with me outside, unseen and unheard, and things +much stranger are yet to be. So," here he shut the dark slide of his +lantern, "now to the outside." He opened the door, and we filed out, +he coming last and locking the door behind him. + +Oh! But it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the terror of +that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds race by, and the +passing gleams of the moonlight between the scudding clouds crossing +and passing, like the gladness and sorrow of a man's life. How sweet +it was to breathe the fresh air, that had no taint of death and decay. +How humanizing to see the red lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and +to hear far away the muffled roar that marks the life of a great +city. Each in his own way was solemn and overcome. Arthur was +silent, and was, I could see, striving to grasp the purpose and the +inner meaning of the mystery. I was myself tolerably patient, and +half inclined again to throw aside doubt and to accept Van Helsing's +conclusions. Quincey Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man who +accepts all things, and accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery, +with hazard of all he has at stake. Not being able to smoke, he cut +himself a good-sized plug of tobacco and began to chew. As to Van +Helsing, he was employed in a definite way. First he took from his +bag a mass of what looked like thin, wafer-like biscuit, which was +carefully rolled up in a white napkin. Next he took out a double +handful of some whitish stuff, like dough or putty. He crumbled the +wafer up fine and worked it into the mass between his hands. This he +then took, and rolling it into thin strips, began to lay them into the +crevices between the door and its setting in the tomb. I was somewhat +puzzled at this, and being close, asked him what it was that he was +doing. Arthur and Quincey drew near also, as they too were curious. + +He answered, "I am closing the tomb so that the UnDead may not enter." + +"And is that stuff you have there going to do it?" + +"It is." + +"What is that which you are using?" This time the question was by +Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he answered. + +"The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an Indulgence." + +It was an answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we felt +individually that in the presence of such earnest purpose as the +Professor's, a purpose which could thus use the to him most sacred of +things, it was impossible to distrust. In respectful silence we took +the places assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from the +sight of any one approaching. I pitied the others, especially Arthur. +I had myself been apprenticed by my former visits to this watching +horror, and yet I, who had up to an hour ago repudiated the proofs, +felt my heart sink within me. Never did tombs look so ghastly white. +Never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of +funeral gloom. Never did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously. +Never did bough creak so mysteriously, and never did the far-away +howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the night. + +There was a long spell of silence, big, aching, void, and then from +the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s!" He pointed, and far down the avenue of +yews we saw a white figure advance, a dim white figure, which held +something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a +ray of moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds, and showed in +startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of +the grave. We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what +we saw to be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp +little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before +the fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the Professor's +warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew tree, kept us back. +And then as we looked the white figure moved forwards again. It was +now near enough for us to see clearly, and the moonlight still held. +My own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as +we recognized the features of Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet +how changed. The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless +cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness. + +Van Helsing stepped out, and obedient to his gesture, we all advanced +too. The four of us ranged in a line before the door of the tomb. Van +Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide. By the concentrated +light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips were crimson +with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her chin and +stained the purity of her lawn death-robe. + +We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous light that +even Van Helsing's iron nerve had failed. Arthur was next to me, and +if I had not seized his arm and held him up, he would have fallen. + +When Lucy, I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it bore +her shape, saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a cat +gives when taken unawares, then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy's eyes +in form and colour, but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell fire, +instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant +of my love passed into hate and loathing. Had she then to be killed, +I could have done it with savage delight. As she looked, her eyes +blazed with unholy light, and the face became wreathed with a +voluptuous smile. Oh, God, how it made me shudder to see it! With a +careless motion, she flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the +child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, +growling over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp +cry, and lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness in the act +which wrung a groan from Arthur. When she advanced to him with +outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in +his hands. + +She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace, +said, "Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My +arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my +husband, come!" + +There was something diabolically sweet in her tones, something of the +tinkling of glass when struck, which rang through the brains even of +us who heard the words addressed to another. + +As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell, moving his hands from his +face, he opened wide his arms. She was leaping for them, when Van +Helsing sprang forward and held between them his little golden +crucifix. She recoiled from it, and, with a suddenly distorted face, +full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter the tomb. + +When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped, as if +arrested by some irresistible force. Then she turned, and her face +was shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp, which had +now no quiver from Van Helsing's nerves. Never did I see such baffled +malice on a face, and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen again by +mortal eyes. The beautiful colour became livid, the eyes seemed to +throw out sparks of hell fire, the brows were wrinkled as though the +folds of flesh were the coils of Medusa's snakes, and the lovely, +blood-stained mouth grew to an open square, as in the passion masks of +the Greeks and Japanese. If ever a face meant death, if looks could +kill, we saw it at that moment. + +And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, she remained +between the lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of her means of +entry. + +Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur, "Answer me, oh my +friend! Am I to proceed in my work?" + +"Do as you will, friend. Do as you will. There can be no horror like +this ever any more." And he groaned in spirit. + +Quincey and I simultaneously moved towards him, and took his arms. We +could hear the click of the closing lantern as Van Helsing held it +down. Coming close to the tomb, he began to remove from the chinks +some of the sacred emblem which he had placed there. We all looked on +with horrified amazement as we saw, when he stood back, the woman, +with a corporeal body as real at that moment as our own, pass through +the interstice where scarce a knife blade could have gone. We all +felt a glad sense of relief when we saw the Professor calmly restoring +the strings of putty to the edges of the door. + +When this was done, he lifted the child and said, "Come now, my +friends. We can do no more till tomorrow. There is a funeral at +noon, so here we shall all come before long after that. The friends +of the dead will all be gone by two, and when the sexton locks the +gate we shall remain. Then there is more to do, but not like this of +tonight. As for this little one, he is not much harmed, and by +tomorrow night he shall be well. We shall leave him where the police +will find him, as on the other night, and then to home." + +Coming close to Arthur, he said, "My friend Arthur, you have had a sore +trial, but after, when you look back, you will see how it was +necessary. You are now in the bitter waters, my child. By this time +tomorrow you will, please God, have passed them, and have drunk of the +sweet waters. So do not mourn over-much. Till then I shall not ask +you to forgive me." + +Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to cheer each other +on the way. We had left behind the child in safety, and were tired. +So we all slept with more or less reality of sleep. + + +29 September, night.--A little before twelve o'clock we three, Arthur, +Quincey Morris, and myself, called for the Professor. It was odd to +notice that by common consent we had all put on black clothes. Of +course, Arthur wore black, for he was in deep mourning, but the rest +of us wore it by instinct. We got to the graveyard by half-past one, +and strolled about, keeping out of official observation, so that when +the gravediggers had completed their task and the sexton, under the +belief that every one had gone, had locked the gate, we had the place +all to ourselves. Van Helsing, instead of his little black bag, had +with him a long leather one, something like a cricketing bag. It was +manifestly of fair weight. + +When we were alone and had heard the last of the footsteps die out up +the road, we silently, and as if by ordered intention, followed the +Professor to the tomb. He unlocked the door, and we entered, closing +it behind us. Then he took from his bag the lantern, which he lit, +and also two wax candles, which, when lighted, he stuck by melting +their own ends, on other coffins, so that they might give light +sufficient to work by. When he again lifted the lid off Lucy's coffin +we all looked, Arthur trembling like an aspen, and saw that the corpse +lay there in all its death beauty. But there was no love in my own +heart, nothing but loathing for the foul Thing which had taken Lucy's +shape without her soul. I could see even Arthur's face grow hard as +he looked. Presently he said to Van Helsing, "Is this really Lucy's +body, or only a demon in her shape?" + +"It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you shall see +her as she was, and is." + +She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there, the pointed +teeth, the blood stained, voluptuous mouth, which made one shudder to +see, the whole carnal and unspirited appearance, seeming like a +devilish mockery of Lucy's sweet purity. Van Helsing, with his usual +methodicalness, began taking the various contents from his bag and +placing them ready for use. First he took out a soldering iron and +some plumbing solder, and then small oil lamp, which gave out, when +lit in a corner of the tomb, gas which burned at a fierce heat with a +blue flame, then his operating knives, which he placed to hand, and +last a round wooden stake, some two and a half or three inches thick +and about three feet long. One end of it was hardened by charring in +the fire, and was sharpened to a fine point. With this stake came a +heavy hammer, such as in households is used in the coal cellar for +breaking the lumps. To me, a doctor's preparations for work of any +kind are stimulating and bracing, but the effect of these things on +both Arthur and Quincey was to cause them a sort of consternation. +They both, however, kept their courage, and remained silent and quiet. + +When all was ready, Van Helsing said, "Before we do anything, let me +tell you this. It is out of the lore and experience of the ancients +and of all those who have studied the powers of the UnDead. When they +become such, there comes with the change the curse of immortality. +They cannot die, but must go on age after age adding new victims and +multiplying the evils of the world. For all that die from the preying +of the Undead become themselves Undead, and prey on their kind. And +so the circle goes on ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone +thrown in the water. Friend Arthur, if you had met that kiss which +you know of before poor Lucy die, or again, last night when you open +your arms to her, you would in time, when you had died, have become +nosferatu, as they call it in Eastern Europe, and would for all time +make more of those Un-Deads that so have filled us with horror. The +career of this so unhappy dear lady is but just begun. Those children +whose blood she sucked are not as yet so much the worse, but if she +lives on, UnDead, more and more they lose their blood and by her power +over them they come to her, and so she draw their blood with that so +wicked mouth. But if she die in truth, then all cease. The tiny +wounds of the throats disappear, and they go back to their play +unknowing ever of what has been. But of the most blessed of all, when +this now UnDead be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the +poor lady whom we love shall again be free. Instead of working +wickedness by night and growing more debased in the assimilating of it +by day, she shall take her place with the other Angels. So that, my +friend, it will be a blessed hand for her that shall strike the blow +that sets her free. To this I am willing, but is there none amongst +us who has a better right? Will it be no joy to think of hereafter in +the silence of the night when sleep is not, 'It was my hand that sent +her to the stars. It was the hand of him that loved her best, the +hand that of all she would herself have chosen, had it been to her to +choose?' Tell me if there be such a one amongst us?" + +We all looked at Arthur. He saw too, what we all did, the infinite +kindness which suggested that his should be the hand which would +restore Lucy to us as a holy, and not an unholy, memory. He stepped +forward and said bravely, though his hand trembled, and his face was +as pale as snow, "My true friend, from the bottom of my broken heart I +thank you. Tell me what I am to do, and I shall not falter!" + +Van Helsing laid a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Brave lad! A +moment's courage, and it is done. This stake must be driven through +her. It well be a fearful ordeal, be not deceived in that, but it +will be only a short time, and you will then rejoice more than your +pain was great. From this grim tomb you will emerge as though you +tread on air. But you must not falter when once you have begun. Only +think that we, your true friends, are round you, and that we pray for +you all the time." + +"Go on," said Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me what I am to do." + +"Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place to the point over +the heart, and the hammer in your right. Then when we begin our +prayer for the dead, I shall read him, I have here the book, and the +others shall follow, strike in God's name, that so all may be well +with the dead that we love and that the UnDead pass away." + +Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once his mind was set +on action his hands never trembled nor even quivered. Van Helsing +opened his missal and began to read, and Quincey and I followed as +well as we could. + +Arthur placed the point over the heart, and as I looked I could see its +dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with all his might. + +The thing in the coffin writhed, and a hideous, blood-curdling screech +came from the opened red lips. The body shook and quivered and +twisted in wild contortions. The sharp white teeth champed together till +the lips were cut, and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam. But +Arthur never faltered. He looked like a figure of Thor as his +untrembling arm rose and fell, driving deeper and deeper the +mercy-bearing stake, whilst the blood from the pierced heart welled +and spurted up around it. His face was set, and high duty seemed to +shine through it. The sight of it gave us courage so that our voices +seemed to ring through the little vault. + +And then the writhing and quivering of the body became less, and the +teeth seemed to champ, and the face to quiver. Finally it lay still. +The terrible task was over. + +The hammer fell from Arthur's hand. He reeled and would have fallen +had we not caught him. The great drops of sweat sprang from his +forehead, and his breath came in broken gasps. It had indeed been an +awful strain on him, and had he not been forced to his task by more +than human considerations he could never have gone through with it. +For a few minutes we were so taken up with him that we did not look +towards the coffin. When we did, however, a murmur of startled +surprise ran from one to the other of us. We gazed so eagerly that +Arthur rose, for he had been seated on the ground, and came and looked +too, and then a glad strange light broke over his face and dispelled +altogether the gloom of horror that lay upon it. + +There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we had so +dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her destruction was yielded +as a privilege to the one best entitled to it, but Lucy as we had seen +her in life, with her face of unequalled sweetness and purity. True +that there were there, as we had seen them in life, the traces of care +and pain and waste. But these were all dear to us, for they marked +her truth to what we knew. One and all we felt that the holy calm +that lay like sunshine over the wasted face and form was only an +earthly token and symbol of the calm that was to reign for ever. + +Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder, and said to +him, "And now, Arthur my friend, dear lad, am I not forgiven?" + +The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the old man's hand +in his, and raising it to his lips, pressed it, and said, "Forgiven! +God bless you that you have given my dear one her soul again, and me +peace." He put his hands on the Professor's shoulder, and laying his +head on his breast, cried for a while silently, whilst we stood +unmoving. + +When he raised his head Van Helsing said to him, "And now, my child, +you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips if you will, as she would have +you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a grinning devil now, +not any more a foul Thing for all eternity. No longer she is the +devil's UnDead. She is God's true dead, whose soul is with Him!" + +Arthur bent and kissed her, and then we sent him and Quincey out of the +tomb. The Professor and I sawed the top off the stake, leaving the +point of it in the body. Then we cut off the head and filled the +mouth with garlic. We soldered up the leaden coffin, screwed on the +coffin lid, and gathering up our belongings, came away. When the +Professor locked the door he gave the key to Arthur. + +Outside the air was sweet, the sun shone, and the birds sang, and it +seemed as if all nature were tuned to a different pitch. There was +gladness and mirth and peace everywhere, for we were at rest ourselves +on one account, and we were glad, though it was with a tempered joy. + +Before we moved away Van Helsing said, "Now, my friends, one step of +our work is done, one the most harrowing to ourselves. But there +remains a greater task: to find out the author of all this our sorrow +and to stamp him out. I have clues which we can follow, but it is a +long task, and a difficult one, and there is danger in it, and pain. +Shall you not all help me? We have learned to believe, all of us, is +it not so? And since so, do we not see our duty? Yes! And do we not +promise to go on to the bitter end?" + +Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was made. Then said +the Professor as we moved off, "Two nights hence you shall meet with +me and dine together at seven of the clock with friend John. I shall +entreat two others, two that you know not as yet, and I shall be ready +to all our work show and our plans unfold. Friend John, you come with +me home, for I have much to consult you about, and you can help me. +Tonight I leave for Amsterdam, but shall return tomorrow night. And +then begins our great quest. But first I shall have much to say, so +that you may know what to do and to dread. Then our promise shall be +made to each other anew. For there is a terrible task before us, and +once our feet are on the ploughshare we must not draw back." + + + + +CHAPTER 17 + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont. + +When we arrived at the Berkely Hotel, Van Helsing found a telegram +waiting for him. + +"Am coming up by train. Jonathan at Whitby. Important news. Mina +Harker." + + +The Professor was delighted. "Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina," he +said, "pearl among women! She arrive, but I cannot stay. She must go +to your house, friend John. You must meet her at the station. +Telegraph her en route so that she may be prepared." + +When the wire was dispatched he had a cup of tea. Over it he told me +of a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when abroad, and gave me a +typewritten copy of it, as also of Mrs. Harker's diary at Whitby. +"Take these," he said, "and study them well. When I have returned you +will be master of all the facts, and we can then better enter on our +inquisition. Keep them safe, for there is in them much of treasure. +You will need all your faith, even you who have had such an experience +as that of today. What is here told," he laid his hand heavily and +gravely on the packet of papers as he spoke, "may be the beginning of +the end to you and me and many another, or it may sound the knell of +the UnDead who walk the earth. Read all, I pray you, with the open +mind, and if you can add in any way to the story here told do so, for +it is all important. You have kept a diary of all these so strange +things, is it not so? Yes! Then we shall go through all these +together when we meet." He then made ready for his departure and +shortly drove off to Liverpool Street. I took my way to Paddington, +where I arrived about fifteen minutes before the train came in. + +The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion common to arrival +platforms, and I was beginning to feel uneasy, lest I might miss my +guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty looking girl stepped up to me, and +after a quick glance said, "Dr. Seward, is it not?" + +"And you are Mrs. Harker!" I answered at once, whereupon she held out +her hand. + +"I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy, but . . ." She +stopped suddenly, and a quick blush overspread her face. + +The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both at ease, for +it was a tacit answer to her own. I got her luggage, which included a +typewriter, and we took the Underground to Fenchurch Street, after I +had sent a wire to my housekeeper to have a sitting room and a bedroom +prepared at once for Mrs. Harker. + +In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the place was a +lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to repress a +shudder when we entered. + +She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to my study, +as she had much to say. So here I am finishing my entry in my +phonograph diary whilst I await her. As yet I have not had the chance +of looking at the papers which Van Helsing left with me, though they +lie open before me. I must get her interested in something, so that I +may have an opportunity of reading them. She does not know how +precious time is, or what a task we have in hand. I must be careful +not to frighten her. Here she is! + + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +29 September.--After I had tidied myself, I went down to Dr. Seward's +study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I heard him +talking with some one. As, however, he had pressed me to be quick, I +knocked at the door, and on his calling out, "Come in," I entered. + +To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He was quite +alone, and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from the +description to be a phonograph. I had never seen one, and was much +interested. + +"I hope I did not keep you waiting," I said, "but I stayed at the door +as I heard you talking, and thought there was someone with you." + +"Oh," he replied with a smile, "I was only entering my diary." + +"Your diary?" I asked him in surprise. + +"Yes," he answered. "I keep it in this." As he spoke he laid his +hand on the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and blurted +out, "Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say something?" + +"Certainly," he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in train +for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look overspread his +face. + +"The fact is," he began awkwardly, "I only keep my diary in it, and as +it is entirely, almost entirely, about my cases it may be awkward, +that is, I mean . . ." He stopped, and I tried to help him out of his +embarrassment. + +"You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she died, +for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was very, +very dear to me." + +To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his face, +"Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world!" + +"Why not?" I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was coming over me. + +Again he paused, and I could see that he was trying to invent an +excuse. At length, he stammered out, "You see, I do not know how to +pick out any particular part of the diary." + +Even while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him, and he said with +unconscious simplicity, in a different voice, and with the naivete of +a child, "that's quite true, upon my honour. Honest Indian!" + +I could not but smile, at which he grimaced. "I gave myself away that +time!" he said. "But do you know that, although I have kept the diary +for months past, it never once struck me how I was going to find any +particular part of it in case I wanted to look it up?" + +By this time my mind was made up that the diary of a doctor who +attended Lucy might have something to add to the sum of our knowledge +of that terrible Being, and I said boldly, "Then, Dr. Seward, you had +better let me copy it out for you on my typewriter." + +He grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said, "No! No! No! For +all the world. I wouldn't let you know that terrible story!" + +Then it was terrible. My intuition was right! For a moment, I +thought, and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously looking for +something or some opportunity to aid me, they lit on a great batch of +typewriting on the table. His eyes caught the look in mine, and +without his thinking, followed their direction. As they saw the +parcel he realized my meaning. + +"You do not know me," I said. "When you have read those papers, my +own diary and my husband's also, which I have typed, you will know me +better. I have not faltered in giving every thought of my own heart +in this cause. But, of course, you do not know me, yet, and I must +not expect you to trust me so far." + +He is certainly a man of noble nature. Poor dear Lucy was right about +him. He stood up and opened a large drawer, in which were arranged in +order a number of hollow cylinders of metal covered with dark wax, and +said, + +"You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did not know +you. But I know you now, and let me say that I should have known you +long ago. I know that Lucy told you of me. She told me of you too. +May I make the only atonement in my power? Take the cylinders and +hear them. The first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and they +will not horrify you. Then you will know me better. Dinner will by +then be ready. In the meantime I shall read over some of these +documents, and shall be better able to understand certain things." + +He carried the phonograph himself up to my sitting room and adjusted +it for me. Now I shall learn something pleasant, I am sure. For it +will tell me the other side of a true love episode of which I know one +side already. + + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +29 September.--I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of Jonathan +Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time run on without +thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid came to announce +dinner, so I said, "She is possibly tired. Let dinner wait an hour," +and I went on with my work. I had just finished Mrs. Harker's diary, +when she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but very sad, and her +eyes were flushed with crying. This somehow moved me much. Of late I +have had cause for tears, God knows! But the relief of them was +denied me, and now the sight of those sweet eyes, brightened by recent +tears, went straight to my heart. So I said as gently as I could, "I +greatly fear I have distressed you." + +"Oh, no, not distressed me," she replied. "But I have been more +touched than I can say by your grief. That is a wonderful machine, +but it is cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones, the anguish of +your heart. It was like a soul crying out to Almighty God. No one +must hear them spoken ever again! See, I have tried to be useful. I +have copied out the words on my typewriter, and none other need now +hear your heart beat, as I did." + +"No one need ever know, shall ever know," I said in a low voice. She +laid her hand on mine and said very gravely, "Ah, but they must!" + +"Must! But why?" I asked. + +"Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor Lucy's +death and all that led to it. Because in the struggle which we have +before us to rid the earth of this terrible monster we must have all +the knowledge and all the help which we can get. I think that the +cylinders which you gave me contained more than you intended me to +know. But I can see that there are in your record many lights to this +dark mystery. You will let me help, will you not? I know all up to a +certain point, and I see already, though your diary only took me to 7 +September, how poor Lucy was beset, and how her terrible doom was +being wrought out. Jonathan and I have been working day and night +since Professor Van Helsing saw us. He is gone to Whitby to get more +information, and he will be here tomorrow to help us. We need have no +secrets amongst us. Working together and with absolute trust, we can +surely be stronger than if some of us were in the dark." + +She looked at me so appealingly, and at the same time manifested such +courage and resolution in her bearing, that I gave in at once to her +wishes. "You shall," I said, "do as you like in the matter. God +forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible things yet to learn of, +but if you have so far traveled on the road to poor Lucy's death, you +will not be content, I know, to remain in the dark. Nay, the end, the +very end, may give you a gleam of peace. Come, there is dinner. We +must keep one another strong for what is before us. We have a cruel +and dreadful task. When you have eaten you shall learn the rest, and +I shall answer any questions you ask, if there be anything which you +do not understand, though it was apparent to us who were present." + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +29 September.--After dinner I came with Dr. Seward to his study. He +brought back the phonograph from my room, and I took a chair, and +arranged the phonograph so that I could touch it without getting up, +and showed me how to stop it in case I should want to pause. Then he +very thoughtfully took a chair, with his back to me, so that I might +be as free as possible, and began to read. I put the forked metal to +my ears and listened. + +When the terrible story of Lucy's death, and all that followed, was +done, I lay back in my chair powerless. Fortunately I am not of a +fainting disposition. When Dr. Seward saw me he jumped up with a +horrified exclamation, and hurriedly taking a case bottle from the +cupboard, gave me some brandy, which in a few minutes somewhat +restored me. My brain was all in a whirl, and only that there came +through all the multitude of horrors, the holy ray of light that my +dear Lucy was at last at peace, I do not think I could have borne it +without making a scene. It is all so wild and mysterious, and strange +that if I had not known Jonathan's experience in Transylvania I could +not have believed. As it was, I didn't know what to believe, and so +got out of my difficulty by attending to something else. I took the +cover off my typewriter, and said to Dr. Seward, + +"Let me write this all out now. We must be ready for Dr. Van Helsing +when he comes. I have sent a telegram to Jonathan to come on here +when he arrives in London from Whitby. In this matter dates are +everything, and I think that if we get all of our material ready, and +have every item put in chronological order, we shall have done much. + +"You tell me that Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris are coming too. Let +us be able to tell them when they come." + +He accordingly set the phonograph at a slow pace, and I began to +typewrite from the beginning of the seventeenth cylinder. I used +manifold, and so took three copies of the diary, just as I had done +with the rest. It was late when I got through, but Dr. Seward went +about his work of going his round of the patients. When he had +finished he came back and sat near me, reading, so that I did not feel +too lonely whilst I worked. How good and thoughtful he is. The world +seems full of good men, even if there are monsters in it. + +Before I left him I remembered what Jonathan put in his diary of the +Professor's perturbation at reading something in an evening paper at +the station at Exeter, so, seeing that Dr. Seward keeps his +newspapers, I borrowed the files of 'The Westminster Gazette' and 'The +Pall Mall Gazette' and took them to my room. I remember how much the +'Dailygraph' and 'The Whitby Gazette', of which I had made cuttings, +had helped us to understand the terrible events at Whitby when Count +Dracula landed, so I shall look through the evening papers since then, +and perhaps I shall get some new light. I am not sleepy, and the work +will help to keep me quiet. + + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +30 September.--Mr. Harker arrived at nine o'clock. He got his wife's +wire just before starting. He is uncommonly clever, if one can judge +from his face, and full of energy. If this journal be true, and +judging by one's own wonderful experiences, it must be, he is also a +man of great nerve. That going down to the vault a second time was a +remarkable piece of daring. After reading his account of it I was +prepared to meet a good specimen of manhood, but hardly the quiet, +businesslike gentleman who came here today. + + +LATER.--After lunch Harker and his wife went back to their own room, +and as I passed a while ago I heard the click of the typewriter. They +are hard at it. Mrs. Harker says that they are knitting together in +chronological order every scrap of evidence they have. Harker has got +the letters between the consignee of the boxes at Whitby and the +carriers in London who took charge of them. He is now reading his +wife's transcript of my diary. I wonder what they make out of it. +Here it is . . . + +Strange that it never struck me that the very next house might be the +Count's hiding place! Goodness knows that we had enough clues from +the conduct of the patient Renfield! The bundle of letters relating +to the purchase of the house were with the transcript. Oh, if we had +only had them earlier we might have saved poor Lucy! Stop! That way +madness lies! Harker has gone back, and is again collecting material. +He says that by dinner time they will be able to show a whole +connected narrative. He thinks that in the meantime I should see +Renfield, as hitherto he has been a sort of index to the coming and +going of the Count. I hardly see this yet, but when I get at the +dates I suppose I shall. What a good thing that Mrs. Harker put my +cylinders into type! We never could have found the dates otherwise. + +I found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his hands folded, +smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed as sane as any one I ever +saw. I sat down and talked with him on a lot of subjects, all of +which he treated naturally. He then, of his own accord, spoke of +going home, a subject he has never mentioned to my knowledge during +his sojourn here. In fact, he spoke quite confidently of getting his +discharge at once. I believe that, had I not had the chat with Harker +and read the letters and the dates of his outbursts, I should have +been prepared to sign for him after a brief time of observation. As +it is, I am darkly suspicious. All those out-breaks were in some way +linked with the proximity of the Count. What then does this absolute +content mean? Can it be that his instinct is satisfied as to the +vampire's ultimate triumph? Stay. He is himself zoophagous, and in +his wild ravings outside the chapel door of the deserted house he +always spoke of 'master'. This all seems confirmation of our idea. +However, after a while I came away. My friend is just a little too +sane at present to make it safe to probe him too deep with questions. +He might begin to think, and then . . . So I came away. I mistrust +these quiet moods of his, so I have given the attendant a hint to +look closely after him, and to have a strait waistcoat ready in case +of need. + + + + + +JOHNATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +29 September, in train to London.--When I received Mr. Billington's +courteous message that he would give me any information in his power I +thought it best to go down to Whitby and make, on the spot, such +inquiries as I wanted. It was now my object to trace that horrid +cargo of the Count's to its place in London. Later, we may be able to +deal with it. Billington junior, a nice lad, met me at the station, +and brought me to his father's house, where they had decided that I +must spend the night. They are hospitable, with true Yorkshire +hospitality, give a guest everything and leave him to do as he likes. +They all knew that I was busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr. +Billington had ready in his office all the papers concerning the +consignment of boxes. It gave me almost a turn to see again one of +the letters which I had seen on the Count's table before I knew of his +diabolical plans. Everything had been carefully thought out, and done +systematically and with precision. He seemed to have been prepared +for every obstacle which might be placed by accident in the way of his +intentions being carried out. To use an Americanism, he had 'taken no +chances', and the absolute accuracy with which his instructions were +fulfilled was simply the logical result of his care. I saw the +invoice, and took note of it. 'Fifty cases of common earth, to be used +for experimental purposes'. Also the copy of the letter to Carter +Paterson, and their reply. Of both these I got copies. This was all +the information Mr. Billington could give me, so I went down to the +port and saw the coastguards, the Customs Officers and the harbour +master, who kindly put me in communication with the men who had +actually received the boxes. Their tally was exact with the list, and +they had nothing to add to the simple description 'fifty cases of +common earth', except that the boxes were 'main and mortal heavy', and +that shifting them was dry work. One of them added that it was hard +lines that there wasn't any gentleman 'such like as like yourself, +squire', to show some sort of appreciation of their efforts in a +liquid form. Another put in a rider that the thirst then generated +was such that even the time which had elapsed had not completely +allayed it. Needless to add, I took care before leaving to lift, +forever and adequately, this source of reproach. + +30 September.--The station master was good enough to give me a line to +his old companion the station master at King's Cross, so that when I +arrived there in the morning I was able to ask him about the arrival +of the boxes. He, too put me at once in communication with the proper +officials, and I saw that their tally was correct with the original +invoice. The opportunities of acquiring an abnormal thirst had been +here limited. A noble use of them had, however, been made, and again +I was compelled to deal with the result in ex post facto manner. + +From thence I went to Carter Paterson's central office, where I met +with the utmost courtesy. They looked up the transaction in their day +book and letter book, and at once telephoned to their King's Cross +office for more details. By good fortune, the men who did the teaming +were waiting for work, and the official at once sent them over, +sending also by one of them the way-bill and all the papers connected +with the delivery of the boxes at Carfax. Here again I found the +tally agreeing exactly. The carriers' men were able to supplement the +paucity of the written words with a few more details. These were, I +shortly found, connected almost solely with the dusty nature of the +job, and the consequent thirst engendered in the operators. On my +affording an opportunity, through the medium of the currency of the +realm, of the allaying, at a later period, this beneficial evil, one +of the men remarked, + +"That 'ere 'ouse, guv'nor, is the rummiest I ever was in. Blyme! But +it ain't been touched sence a hundred years. There was dust that +thick in the place that you might have slep' on it without 'urtin' of +yer bones. An' the place was that neglected that yer might 'ave +smelled ole Jerusalem in it. But the old chapel, that took the cike, +that did! Me and my mate, we thort we wouldn't never git out quick +enough. Lor', I wouldn't take less nor a quid a moment to stay there +arter dark." + +Having been in the house, I could well believe him, but if he knew +what I know, he would, I think have raised his terms. + +Of one thing I am now satisfied. That all those boxes which arrived at +Whitby from Varna in the Demeter were safely deposited in the old +chapel at Carfax. There should be fifty of them there, unless any +have since been removed, as from Dr. Seward's diary I fear. + + +Later.--Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put all the papers +into order. + + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +30 September.--I am so glad that I hardly know how to contain myself. +It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunting fear which I have +had, that this terrible affair and the reopening of his old wound +might act detrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him leave for Whitby with +as brave a face as could, but I was sick with apprehension. The +effort has, however, done him good. He was never so resolute, never +so strong, never so full of volcanic energy, as at present. It is +just as that dear, good Professor Van Helsing said, he is true grit, +and he improves under strain that would kill a weaker nature. He came +back full of life and hope and determination. We have got everything +in order for tonight. I feel myself quite wild with excitement. I +suppose one ought to pity anything so hunted as the Count. That is +just it. This thing is not human, not even a beast. To read Dr. +Seward's account of poor Lucy's death, and what followed, is enough to +dry up the springs of pity in one's heart. + + +Later.--Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier than we +expected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and had taken Jonathan with +him, so I had to see them. It was to me a painful meeting, for it +brought back all poor dear Lucy's hopes of only a few months ago. Of +course they had heard Lucy speak of me, and it seemed that Dr. Van +Helsing, too, had been quite 'blowing my trumpet', as Mr. Morris +expressed it. Poor fellows, neither of them is aware that I know all +about the proposals they made to Lucy. They did not quite know what +to say or do, as they were ignorant of the amount of my knowledge. So +they had to keep on neutral subjects. However, I thought the matter +over, and came to the conclusion that the best thing I could do would +be to post them on affairs right up to date. I knew from Dr. Seward's +diary that they had been at Lucy's death, her real death, and that I +need not fear to betray any secret before the time. So I told them, +as well as I could, that I had read all the papers and diaries, and +that my husband and I, having typewritten them, had just finished +putting them in order. I gave them each a copy to read in the +library. When Lord Godalming got his and turned it over, it does make +a pretty good pile, he said, "Did you write all this, Mrs. Harker?" + +I nodded, and he went on. + +"I don't quite see the drift of it, but you people are all so good and +kind, and have been working so earnestly and so energetically, that +all I can do is to accept your ideas blindfold and try to help you. I +have had one lesson already in accepting facts that should make a man +humble to the last hour of his life. Besides, I know you loved my +Lucy . . ." + +Here he turned away and covered his face with his hands. I could hear +the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with instinctive delicacy, just +laid a hand for a moment on his shoulder, and then walked quietly out +of the room. I suppose there is something in a woman's nature that +makes a man free to break down before her and express his feelings on +the tender or emotional side without feeling it derogatory to his +manhood. For when Lord Godalming found himself alone with me he sat +down on the sofa and gave way utterly and openly. I sat down beside +him and took his hand. I hope he didn't think it forward of me, and +that if he ever thinks of it afterwards he never will have such a +thought. There I wrong him. I know he never will. He is too true a +gentleman. I said to him, for I could see that his heart was +breaking, "I loved dear Lucy, and I know what she was to you, and what +you were to her. She and I were like sisters, and now she is gone, +will you not let me be like a sister to you in your trouble? I know +what sorrows you have had, though I cannot measure the depth of them. +If sympathy and pity can help in your affliction, won't you let me be +of some little service, for Lucy's sake?" + +In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with grief. It +seemed to me that all that he had of late been suffering in silence +found a vent at once. He grew quite hysterical, and raising his open +hands, beat his palms together in a perfect agony of grief. He stood +up and then sat down again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I +felt an infinite pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly. With +a sob he laid his head on my shoulder and cried like a wearied child, +whilst he shook with emotion. + +We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise above +smaller matters when the mother spirit is invoked. I felt this big +sorrowing man's head resting on me, as though it were that of a baby +that some day may lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though he +were my own child. I never thought at the time how strange it all +was. + +After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself with an +apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He told me that +for days and nights past, weary days and sleepless nights, he had been +unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his time of +sorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or +with whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with which his sorrow +was surrounded, he could speak freely. + +"I know now how I suffered," he said, as he dried his eyes, "but I do +not know even yet, and none other can ever know, how much your sweet +sympathy has been to me today. I shall know better in time, and +believe me that, though I am not ungrateful now, my gratitude will +grow with my understanding. You will let me be like a brother, will +you not, for all our lives, for dear Lucy's sake?" + +"For dear Lucy's sake," I said as we clasped hands. "Ay, and for your +own sake," he added, "for if a man's esteem and gratitude are ever +worth the winning, you have won mine today. If ever the future should +bring to you a time when you need a man's help, believe me, you will +not call in vain. God grant that no such time may ever come to you to +break the sunshine of your life, but if it should ever come, promise +me that you will let me know." + +He was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that I felt it would +comfort him, so I said, "I promise." + +As I came along the corridor I saw Mr. Morris looking out of a window. +He turned as he heard my footsteps. "How is Art?" he said. Then +noticing my red eyes, he went on, "Ah, I see you have been comforting +him. Poor old fellow! He needs it. No one but a woman can help a +man when he is in trouble of the heart, and he had no one to comfort +him." + +He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for him. I saw +the manuscript in his hand, and I knew that when he read it he would +realize how much I knew, so I said to him, "I wish I could comfort all +who suffer from the heart. Will you let me be your friend, and will +you come to me for comfort if you need it? You will know later why I +speak." + +He saw that I was in earnest, and stooping, took my hand, and raising +it to his lips, kissed it. It seemed but poor comfort to so brave and +unselfish a soul, and impulsively I bent over and kissed him. The +tears rose in his eyes, and there was a momentary choking in his +throat. He said quite calmly, "Little girl, you will never forget +that true hearted kindness, so long as ever you live!" Then he went +into the study to his friend. + +"Little girl!" The very words he had used to Lucy, and, oh, but he +proved himself a friend. + + + + +CHAPTER 18 + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +30 September.--I got home at five o'clock, and found that Godalming +and Morris had not only arrived, but had already studied the +transcript of the various diaries and letters which Harker had not yet +returned from his visit to the carriers' men, of whom Dr. Hennessey +had written to me. Mrs. Harker gave us a cup of tea, and I can +honestly say that, for the first time since I have lived in it, this +old house seemed like home. When we had finished, Mrs. Harker said, + +"Dr. Seward, may I ask a favour? I want to see your patient, Mr. +Renfield. Do let me see him. What you have said of him in your diary +interests me so much!" + +She looked so appealing and so pretty that I could not refuse her, and +there was no possible reason why I should, so I took her with me. +When I went into the room, I told the man that a lady would like to see +him, to which he simply answered, "Why?" + +"She is going through the house, and wants to see every one in it," I +answered. + +"Oh, very well," he said, "let her come in, by all means, but just +wait a minute till I tidy up the place." + +His method of tidying was peculiar, he simply swallowed all the flies +and spiders in the boxes before I could stop him. It was quite +evident that he feared, or was jealous of, some interference. When he +had got through his disgusting task, he said cheerfully, "Let the lady +come in," and sat down on the edge of his bed with his head down, but +with his eyelids raised so that he could see her as she entered. For +a moment I thought that he might have some homicidal intent. I +remembered how quiet he had been just before he attacked me in my own +study, and I took care to stand where I could seize him at once if he +attempted to make a spring at her. + +She came into the room with an easy gracefulness which would at once +command the respect of any lunatic, for easiness is one of the +qualities mad people most respect. She walked over to him, smiling +pleasantly, and held out her hand. + +"Good evening, Mr. Renfield," said she. "You see, I know you, for Dr. +Seward has told me of you." He made no immediate reply, but eyed her +all over intently with a set frown on his face. This look gave way to +one of wonder, which merged in doubt, then to my intense astonishment +he said, "You're not the girl the doctor wanted to marry, are you? You +can't be, you know, for she's dead." + +Mrs. Harker smiled sweetly as she replied, "Oh no! I have a husband +of my own, to whom I was married before I ever saw Dr. Seward, or he +me. I am Mrs. Harker." + +"Then what are you doing here?" + +"My husband and I are staying on a visit with Dr. Seward." + +"Then don't stay." + +"But why not?" + +I thought that this style of conversation might not be pleasant to +Mrs. Harker, any more than it was to me, so I joined in, "How did you +know I wanted to marry anyone?" + +His reply was simply contemptuous, given in a pause in which he turned +his eyes from Mrs. Harker to me, instantly turning them back again, +"What an asinine question!" + +"I don't see that at all, Mr. Renfield," said Mrs. Harker, at once +championing me. + +He replied to her with as much courtesy and respect as he had shown +contempt to me, "You will, of course, understand, Mrs. Harker, that +when a man is so loved and honoured as our host is, everything +regarding him is of interest in our little community. Dr. Seward is +loved not only by his household and his friends, but even by his +patients, who, being some of them hardly in mental equilibrium, are +apt to distort causes and effects. Since I myself have been an inmate +of a lunatic asylum, I cannot but notice that the sophistic tendencies +of some of its inmates lean towards the errors of non causa and +ignoratio elenche." + +I positively opened my eyes at this new development. Here was my own +pet lunatic, the most pronounced of his type that I had ever met with, +talking elemental philosophy, and with the manner of a polished +gentleman. I wonder if it was Mrs. Harker's presence which had +touched some chord in his memory. If this new phase was spontaneous, +or in any way due to her unconscious influence, she must have some +rare gift or power. + +We continued to talk for some time, and seeing that he was seemingly +quite reasonable, she ventured, looking at me questioningly as she +began, to lead him to his favourite topic. I was again astonished, +for he addressed himself to the question with the impartiality of +the completest sanity. He even took himself as an example when he +mentioned certain things. + +"Why, I myself am an instance of a man who had a strange belief. +Indeed, it was no wonder that my friends were alarmed, and insisted on +my being put under control. I used to fancy that life was a positive +and perpetual entity, and that by consuming a multitude of live +things, no matter how low in the scale of creation, one might +indefinitely prolong life. At times I held the belief so strongly +that I actually tried to take human life. The doctor here will bear +me out that on one occasion I tried to kill him for the purpose of +strengthening my vital powers by the assimilation with my own body of +his life through the medium of his blood, relying of course, upon the +Scriptural phrase, 'For the blood is the life.' Though, indeed, the +vendor of a certain nostrum has vulgarized the truism to the very +point of contempt. Isn't that true, doctor?" + +I nodded assent, for I was so amazed that I hardly knew what to either +think or say, it was hard to imagine that I had seen him eat up his +spiders and flies not five minutes before. Looking at my watch, I saw +that I should go to the station to meet Van Helsing, so I told Mrs. +Harker that it was time to leave. + +She came at once, after saying pleasantly to Mr. Renfield, "Goodbye, +and I hope I may see you often, under auspices pleasanter to +yourself." + +To which, to my astonishment, he replied, "Goodbye, my dear. I pray +God I may never see your sweet face again. May He bless and keep +you!" + +When I went to the station to meet Van Helsing I left the boys behind +me. Poor Art seemed more cheerful than he has been since Lucy first +took ill, and Quincey is more like his own bright self than he has +been for many a long day. + +Van Helsing stepped from the carriage with the eager nimbleness of a +boy. He saw me at once, and rushed up to me, saying, "Ah, friend +John, how goes all? Well? So! I have been busy, for I come here to +stay if need be. All affairs are settled with me, and I have much to +tell. Madam Mina is with you? Yes. And her so fine husband? And +Arthur and my friend Quincey, they are with you, too? Good!" + +As I drove to the house I told him of what had passed, and of how my +own diary had come to be of some use through Mrs. Harker's suggestion, +at which the Professor interrupted me. + +"Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina! She has man's brain, a brain that a +man should have were he much gifted, and a woman's heart. The good +God fashioned her for a purpose, believe me, when He made that so good +combination. Friend John, up to now fortune has made that woman of +help to us, after tonight she must not have to do with this so +terrible affair. It is not good that she run a risk so great. We men +are determined, nay, are we not pledged, to destroy this monster? But +it is no part for a woman. Even if she be not harmed, her heart may +fail her in so much and so many horrors and hereafter she may suffer, +both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams. And, +besides, she is young woman and not so long married, there may be +other things to think of some time, if not now. You tell me she has +wrote all, then she must consult with us, but tomorrow she say goodbye +to this work, and we go alone." + +I agreed heartily with him, and then I told him what we had found in +his absence, that the house which Dracula had bought was the very next +one to my own. He was amazed, and a great concern seemed to come on +him. + +"Oh that we had known it before!" he said, "for then we might have +reached him in time to save poor Lucy. However, 'the milk that is +spilt cries not out afterwards,' as you say. We shall not think of +that, but go on our way to the end." Then he fell into a silence that +lasted till we entered my own gateway. Before we went to prepare for +dinner he said to Mrs. Harker, "I am told, Madam Mina, by my friend +John that you and your husband have put up in exact order all things +that have been, up to this moment." + +"Not up to this moment, Professor," she said impulsively, "but up to +this morning." + +"But why not up to now? We have seen hitherto how good light all the +little things have made. We have told our secrets, and yet no one who +has told is the worse for it." + +Mrs. Harker began to blush, and taking a paper from her pockets, she +said, "Dr. Van Helsing, will you read this, and tell me if it must go +in. It is my record of today. I too have seen the need of putting +down at present everything, however trivial, but there is little in +this except what is personal. Must it go in?" + +The Professor read it over gravely, and handed it back, saying, "It +need not go in if you do not wish it, but I pray that it may. It can +but make your husband love you the more, and all us, your friends, +more honour you, as well as more esteem and love." She took it back +with another blush and a bright smile. + +And so now, up to this very hour, all the records we have are complete +and in order. The Professor took away one copy to study after dinner, +and before our meeting, which is fixed for nine o'clock. The rest of +us have already read everything, so when we meet in the study we shall +all be informed as to facts, and can arrange our plan of battle with +this terrible and mysterious enemy. + + + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +30 September.--When we met in Dr. Seward's study two hours after +dinner, which had been at six o'clock, we unconsciously formed a sort +of board or committee. Professor Van Helsing took the head of the +table, to which Dr. Seward motioned him as he came into the room. He +made me sit next to him on his right, and asked me to act as +secretary. Jonathan sat next to me. Opposite us were Lord Godalming, +Dr. Seward, and Mr. Morris, Lord Godalming being next the Professor, +and Dr. Seward in the centre. + +The Professor said, "I may, I suppose, take it that we are all +acquainted with the facts that are in these papers." We all expressed +assent, and he went on, "Then it were, I think, good that I tell you +something of the kind of enemy with which we have to deal. I shall +then make known to you something of the history of this man, which has +been ascertained for me. So we then can discuss how we shall act, and +can take our measure according. + +"There are such beings as vampires, some of us have evidence that they +exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy experience, the +teachings and the records of the past give proof enough for sane +peoples. I admit that at the first I was sceptic. Were it not that +through long years I have trained myself to keep an open mind, I could +not have believed until such time as that fact thunder on my ear. 'See! +See! I prove, I prove.' Alas! Had I known at first what now I know, +nay, had I even guess at him, one so precious life had been spared to +many of us who did love her. But that is gone, and we must so work, +that other poor souls perish not, whilst we can save. The nosferatu +do not die like the bee when he sting once. He is only stronger, and +being stronger, have yet more power to work evil. This vampire which +is amongst us is of himself so strong in person as twenty men, he is +of cunning more than mortal, for his cunning be the growth of ages, he +have still the aids of necromancy, which is, as his etymology imply, +the divination by the dead, and all the dead that he can come nigh to +are for him at command; he is brute, and more than brute; he is devil +in callous, and the heart of him is not; he can, within his range, +direct the elements, the storm, the fog, the thunder; he can command +all the meaner things, the rat, and the owl, and the bat, the moth, +and the fox, and the wolf, he can grow and become small; and he can at +times vanish and come unknown. How then are we to begin our strike to +destroy him? How shall we find his where, and having found it, how +can we destroy? My friends, this is much, it is a terrible task that +we undertake, and there may be consequence to make the brave shudder. +For if we fail in this our fight he must surely win, and then where +end we? Life is nothings, I heed him not. But to fail here, is not +mere life or death. It is that we become as him, that we henceforward +become foul things of the night like him, without heart or conscience, +preying on the bodies and the souls of those we love best. To us +forever are the gates of heaven shut, for who shall open them to us +again? We go on for all time abhorred by all, a blot on the face of +God's sunshine, an arrow in the side of Him who died for man. But we +are face to face with duty, and in such case must we shrink? For me, +I say no, but then I am old, and life, with his sunshine, his fair +places, his song of birds, his music and his love, lie far behind. You +others are young. Some have seen sorrow, but there are fair days yet +in store. What say you?" + +Whilst he was speaking, Jonathan had taken my hand. I feared, oh so +much, that the appalling nature of our danger was overcoming him when +I saw his hand stretch out, but it was life to me to feel its touch, +so strong, so self reliant, so resolute. A brave man's hand can speak +for itself, it does not even need a woman's love to hear its music. + +When the Professor had done speaking my husband looked in my eyes, and +I in his, there was no need for speaking between us. + +"I answer for Mina and myself," he said. + +"Count me in, Professor," said Mr. Quincey Morris, laconically as +usual. + +"I am with you," said Lord Godalming, "for Lucy's sake, if for no +other reason." + +Dr. Seward simply nodded. + +The Professor stood up and, after laying his golden crucifix on the +table, held out his hand on either side. I took his right hand, and +Lord Godalming his left, Jonathan held my right with his left and +stretched across to Mr. Morris. So as we all took hands our solemn +compact was made. I felt my heart icy cold, but it did not even occur +to me to draw back. We resumed our places, and Dr. Van Helsing went +on with a sort of cheerfulness which showed that the serious work had +begun. It was to be taken as gravely, and in as businesslike a way, +as any other transaction of life. + +"Well, you know what we have to contend against, but we too, are not +without strength. We have on our side power of combination, a power +denied to the vampire kind, we have sources of science, we are free to +act and think, and the hours of the day and the night are ours +equally. In fact, so far as our powers extend, they are unfettered, +and we are free to use them. We have self devotion in a cause and an +end to achieve which is not a selfish one. These things are much. + +"Now let us see how far the general powers arrayed against us are +restrict, and how the individual cannot. In fine, let us consider the +limitations of the vampire in general, and of this one in particular. + +"All we have to go upon are traditions and superstitions. These do +not at the first appear much, when the matter is one of life and +death, nay of more than either life or death. Yet must we be +satisfied, in the first place because we have to be, no other means is +at our control, and secondly, because, after all these things, +tradition and superstition, are everything. Does not the belief in +vampires rest for others, though not, alas! for us, on them? A year +ago which of us would have received such a possibility, in the midst +of our scientific, sceptical, matter-of-fact nineteenth century? We +even scouted a belief that we saw justified under our very eyes. Take +it, then, that the vampire, and the belief in his limitations and his +cure, rest for the moment on the same base. For, let me tell you, he +is known everywhere that men have been. In old Greece, in old Rome, +he flourish in Germany all over, in France, in India, even in the +Chermosese, and in China, so far from us in all ways, there even is +he, and the peoples for him at this day. He have follow the wake of +the berserker Icelander, the devil-begotten Hun, the Slav, the Saxon, +the Magyar. + +"So far, then, we have all we may act upon, and let me tell you that +very much of the beliefs are justified by what we have seen in our own +so unhappy experience. The vampire live on, and cannot die by mere +passing of the time, he can flourish when that he can fatten on the +blood of the living. Even more, we have seen amongst us that he can +even grow younger, that his vital faculties grow strenuous, and seem +as though they refresh themselves when his special pabulum is plenty. + +"But he cannot flourish without this diet, he eat not as others. Even +friend Jonathan, who lived with him for weeks, did never see him eat, +never! He throws no shadow, he make in the mirror no reflect, as +again Jonathan observe. He has the strength of many of his hand, +witness again Jonathan when he shut the door against the wolves, and +when he help him from the diligence too. He can transform himself to +wolf, as we gather from the ship arrival in Whitby, when he tear open +the dog, he can be as bat, as Madam Mina saw him on the window at +Whitby, and as friend John saw him fly from this so near house, and as +my friend Quincey saw him at the window of Miss Lucy. + +"He can come in mist which he create, that noble ship's captain proved +him of this, but, from what we know, the distance he can make this +mist is limited, and it can only be round himself. + +"He come on moonlight rays as elemental dust, as again Jonathan saw +those sisters in the castle of Dracula. He become so small, we +ourselves saw Miss Lucy, ere she was at peace, slip through a +hairbreadth space at the tomb door. He can, when once he find his +way, come out from anything or into anything, no matter how close it +be bound or even fused up with fire, solder you call it. He can see +in the dark, no small power this, in a world which is one half shut +from the light. Ah, but hear me through. + +"He can do all these things, yet he is not free. Nay, he is even more +prisoner than the slave of the galley, than the madman in his cell. +He cannot go where he lists, he who is not of nature has yet to obey +some of nature's laws, why we know not. He may not enter anywhere at +the first, unless there be some one of the household who bid him to +come, though afterwards he can come as he please. His power ceases, +as does that of all evil things, at the coming of the day. + +"Only at certain times can he have limited freedom. If he be not at +the place whither he is bound, he can only change himself at noon or +at exact sunrise or sunset. These things we are told, and in this +record of ours we have proof by inference. Thus, whereas he can do as +he will within his limit, when he have his earth-home, his +coffin-home, his hell-home, the place unhallowed, as we saw when he +went to the grave of the suicide at Whitby, still at other time he can +only change when the time come. It is said, too, that he can only +pass running water at the slack or the flood of the tide. Then there +are things which so afflict him that he has no power, as the garlic +that we know of, and as for things sacred, as this symbol, my +crucifix, that was amongst us even now when we resolve, to them he is +nothing, but in their presence he take his place far off and silent +with respect. There are others, too, which I shall tell you of, lest +in our seeking we may need them. + +"The branch of wild rose on his coffin keep him that he move not from +it, a sacred bullet fired into the coffin kill him so that he be true +dead, and as for the stake through him, we know already of its peace, +or the cut off head that giveth rest. We have seen it with our eyes. + +"Thus when we find the habitation of this man-that-was, we can confine +him to his coffin and destroy him, if we obey what we know. But he is +clever. I have asked my friend Arminius, of Buda-Pesth University, to +make his record, and from all the means that are, he tell me of what +he has been. He must, indeed, have been that Voivode Dracula who won +his name against the Turk, over the great river on the very frontier +of Turkeyland. If it be so, then was he no common man, for in that +time, and for centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and +the most cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the 'land +beyond the forest.' That mighty brain and that iron resolution went +with him to his grave, and are even now arrayed against us. The +Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and +again were scions who were held by their coevals to have had dealings +with the Evil One. They learned his secrets in the Scholomance, +amongst the mountains over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims +the tenth scholar as his due. In the records are such words as +'stregoica' witch, 'ordog' and 'pokol' Satan and hell, and in one +manuscript this very Dracula is spoken of as 'wampyr,' which we all +understand too well. There have been from the loins of this very one +great men and good women, and their graves make sacred the earth where +alone this foulness can dwell. For it is not the least of its terrors +that this evil thing is rooted deep in all good, in soil barren of +holy memories it cannot rest." + +Whilst they were talking Mr. Morris was looking steadily at the +window, and he now got up quietly, and went out of the room. There +was a little pause, and then the Professor went on. + +"And now we must settle what we do. We have here much data, and we +must proceed to lay out our campaign. We know from the inquiry of +Jonathan that from the castle to Whitby came fifty boxes of earth, all +of which were delivered at Carfax, we also know that at least some of +these boxes have been removed. It seems to me, that our first step +should be to ascertain whether all the rest remain in the house beyond +that wall where we look today, or whether any more have been removed. +If the latter, we must trace . . ." + +Here we were interrupted in a very startling way. Outside the house +came the sound of a pistol shot, the glass of the window was shattered +with a bullet, which ricochetting from the top of the embrasure, +struck the far wall of the room. I am afraid I am at heart a coward, +for I shrieked out. The men all jumped to their feet, Lord Godalming +flew over to the window and threw up the sash. As he did so we heard +Mr. Morris' voice without, "Sorry! I fear I have alarmed you. I +shall come in and tell you about it." + +A minute later he came in and said, "It was an idiotic thing of me to +do, and I ask your pardon, Mrs. Harker, most sincerely, I fear I must +have frightened you terribly. But the fact is that whilst the +Professor was talking there came a big bat and sat on the window sill. +I have got such a horror of the damned brutes from recent events that +I cannot stand them, and I went out to have a shot, as I have been +doing of late of evenings, whenever I have seen one. You used to +laugh at me for it then, Art." + +"Did you hit it?" asked Dr. Van Helsing. + +"I don't know, I fancy not, for it flew away into the wood." Without +saying any more he took his seat, and the Professor began to resume +his statement. + +"We must trace each of these boxes, and when we are ready, we must +either capture or kill this monster in his lair, or we must, so to +speak, sterilize the earth, so that no more he can seek safety in it. +Thus in the end we may find him in his form of man between the hours +of noon and sunset, and so engage with him when he is at his most +weak. + +"And now for you, Madam Mina, this night is the end until all be well. +You are too precious to us to have such risk. When we part tonight, +you no more must question. We shall tell you all in good time. We +are men and are able to bear, but you must be our star and our hope, +and we shall act all the more free that you are not in the danger, +such as we are." + +All the men, even Jonathan, seemed relieved, but it did not seem to me +good that they should brave danger and, perhaps lessen their safety, +strength being the best safety, through care of me, but their minds +were made up, and though it was a bitter pill for me to swallow, I +could say nothing, save to accept their chivalrous care of me. + +Mr. Morris resumed the discussion, "As there is no time to lose, I +vote we have a look at his house right now. Time is everything with +him, and swift action on our part may save another victim." + +I own that my heart began to fail me when the time for action came so +close, but I did not say anything, for I had a greater fear that if I +appeared as a drag or a hindrance to their work, they might even leave +me out of their counsels altogether. They have now gone off to +Carfax, with means to get into the house. + +Manlike, they had told me to go to bed and sleep, as if a woman can +sleep when those she loves are in danger! I shall lie down, and +pretend to sleep, lest Jonathan have added anxiety about me when he +returns. + + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +1 October, 4 A.M.--Just as we were about to leave the house, an urgent +message was brought to me from Renfield to know if I would see him at +once, as he had something of the utmost importance to say to me. I +told the messenger to say that I would attend to his wishes in the +morning, I was busy just at the moment. + +The attendant added, "He seems very importunate, sir. I have never +seen him so eager. I don't know but what, if you don't see him soon, +he will have one of his violent fits." I knew the man would not have +said this without some cause, so I said, "All right, I'll go now," and +I asked the others to wait a few minutes for me, as I had to go and +see my patient. + +"Take me with you, friend John," said the Professor. "His case in your +diary interest me much, and it had bearing, too, now and again on our +case. I should much like to see him, and especial when his mind is +disturbed." + +"May I come also?" asked Lord Godalming. + +"Me too?" said Quincey Morris. "May I come?" said Harker. I nodded, +and we all went down the passage together. + +We found him in a state of considerable excitement, but far more +rational in his speech and manner than I had ever seen him. There was +an unusual understanding of himself, which was unlike anything I had +ever met with in a lunatic, and he took it for granted that his +reasons would prevail with others entirely sane. We all five went +into the room, but none of the others at first said anything. His +request was that I would at once release him from the asylum and send +him home. This he backed up with arguments regarding his complete +recovery, and adduced his own existing sanity. + +"I appeal to your friends," he said, "they will, perhaps, not mind +sitting in judgement on my case. By the way, you have not introduced +me." + +I was so much astonished, that the oddness of introducing a madman in +an asylum did not strike me at the moment, and besides, there was a +certain dignity in the man's manner, so much of the habit of equality, +that I at once made the introduction, "Lord Godalming, Professor Van +Helsing, Mr. Quincey Morris, of Texas, Mr. Jonathan Harker, Mr. +Renfield." + +He shook hands with each of them, saying in turn, "Lord Godalming, I +had the honour of seconding your father at the Windham; I grieve to +know, by your holding the title, that he is no more. He was a man +loved and honoured by all who knew him, and in his youth was, I have +heard, the inventor of a burnt rum punch, much patronized on Derby +night. Mr. Morris, you should be proud of your great state. Its +reception into the Union was a precedent which may have far-reaching +effects hereafter, when the Pole and the Tropics may hold alliance to +the Stars and Stripes. The power of Treaty may yet prove a vast +engine of enlargement, when the Monroe doctrine takes its true place +as a political fable. What shall any man say of his pleasure at +meeting Van Helsing? Sir, I make no apology for dropping all forms of +conventional prefix. When an individual has revolutionized +therapeutics by his discovery of the continuous evolution of brain +matter, conventional forms are unfitting, since they would seem to +limit him to one of a class. You, gentlemen, who by nationality, by +heredity, or by the possession of natural gifts, are fitted to hold +your respective places in the moving world, I take to witness that I +am as sane as at least the majority of men who are in full possession +of their liberties. And I am sure that you, Dr. Seward, humanitarian +and medico-jurist as well as scientist, will deem it a moral duty to +deal with me as one to be considered as under exceptional +circumstances." He made this last appeal with a courtly air of +conviction which was not without its own charm. + +I think we were all staggered. For my own part, I was under the +conviction, despite my knowledge of the man's character and history, +that his reason had been restored, and I felt under a strong impulse +to tell him that I was satisfied as to his sanity, and would see about +the necessary formalities for his release in the morning. I thought +it better to wait, however, before making so grave a statement, for of +old I knew the sudden changes to which this particular patient was +liable. So I contented myself with making a general statement that he +appeared to be improving very rapidly, that I would have a longer chat +with him in the morning, and would then see what I could do in the +direction of meeting his wishes. + +This did not at all satisfy him, for he said quickly, "But I fear, Dr. +Seward, that you hardly apprehend my wish. I desire to go at once, +here, now, this very hour, this very moment, if I may. Time presses, +and in our implied agreement with the old scytheman it is of the +essence of the contract. I am sure it is only necessary to put before +so admirable a practitioner as Dr. Seward so simple, yet so momentous +a wish, to ensure its fulfilment." + +He looked at me keenly, and seeing the negative in my face, turned to +the others, and scrutinized them closely. Not meeting any sufficient +response, he went on, "Is it possible that I have erred in my +supposition?" + +"You have," I said frankly, but at the same time, as I felt, brutally. + +There was a considerable pause, and then he said slowly, "Then I +suppose I must only shift my ground of request. Let me ask for this +concession, boon, privilege, what you will. I am content to implore +in such a case, not on personal grounds, but for the sake of others. I +am not at liberty to give you the whole of my reasons, but you may, I +assure you, take it from me that they are good ones, sound and +unselfish, and spring from the highest sense of duty. + +"Could you look, sir, into my heart, you would approve to the full the +sentiments which animate me. Nay, more, you would count me amongst +the best and truest of your friends." + +Again he looked at us all keenly. I had a growing conviction that +this sudden change of his entire intellectual method was but yet +another phase of his madness, and so determined to let him go on a +little longer, knowing from experience that he would, like all +lunatics, give himself away in the end. Van Helsing was gazing at him +with a look of utmost intensity, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting +with the fixed concentration of his look. He said to Renfield in a +tone which did not surprise me at the time, but only when I thought of +it afterwards, for it was as of one addressing an equal, "Can you not +tell frankly your real reason for wishing to be free tonight? I will +undertake that if you will satisfy even me, a stranger, without +prejudice, and with the habit of keeping an open mind, Dr. Seward will +give you, at his own risk and on his own responsibility, the privilege +you seek." + +He shook his head sadly, and with a look of poignant regret on his +face. The Professor went on, "Come, sir, bethink yourself. You claim +the privilege of reason in the highest degree, since you seek to +impress us with your complete reasonableness. You do this, whose +sanity we have reason to doubt, since you are not yet released from +medical treatment for this very defect. If you will not help us in +our effort to choose the wisest course, how can we perform the duty +which you yourself put upon us? Be wise, and help us, and if we can +we shall aid you to achieve your wish." + +He still shook his head as he said, "Dr. Van Helsing, I have nothing to +say. Your argument is complete, and if I were free to speak I should +not hesitate a moment, but I am not my own master in the matter. I +can only ask you to trust me. If I am refused, the responsibility +does not rest with me." + +I thought it was now time to end the scene, which was becoming too +comically grave, so I went towards the door, simply saying, "Come, my +friends, we have work to do. Goodnight." + +As, however, I got near the door, a new change came over the patient. +He moved towards me so quickly that for the moment I feared that he +was about to make another homicidal attack. My fears, however, were +groundless, for he held up his two hands imploringly, and made his +petition in a moving manner. As he saw that the very excess of his +emotion was militating against him, by restoring us more to our old +relations, he became still more demonstrative. I glanced at Van +Helsing, and saw my conviction reflected in his eyes, so I became a +little more fixed in my manner, if not more stern, and motioned to him +that his efforts were unavailing. I had previously seen something of +the same constantly growing excitement in him when he had to make some +request of which at the time he had thought much, such for instance, +as when he wanted a cat, and I was prepared to see the collapse into +the same sullen acquiescence on this occasion. + +My expectation was not realized, for when he found that his appeal +would not be successful, he got into quite a frantic condition. He +threw himself on his knees, and held up his hands, wringing them in +plaintive supplication, and poured forth a torrent of entreaty, with +the tears rolling down his cheeks, and his whole face and form +expressive of the deepest emotion. + +"Let me entreat you, Dr. Seward, oh, let me implore you, to let me out +of this house at once. Send me away how you will and where you will, +send keepers with me with whips and chains, let them take me in a +strait waistcoat, manacled and leg-ironed, even to gaol, but let me go +out of this. You don't know what you do by keeping me here. I am +speaking from the depths of my heart, of my very soul. You don't know +whom you wrong, or how, and I may not tell. Woe is me! I may not +tell. By all you hold sacred, by all you hold dear, by your love that +is lost, by your hope that lives, for the sake of the Almighty, take +me out of this and save my soul from guilt! Can't you hear me, man? +Can't you understand? Will you never learn? Don't you know that I am +sane and earnest now, that I am no lunatic in a mad fit, but a sane +man fighting for his soul? Oh, hear me! Hear me! Let me go, let me +go, let me go!" + +I thought that the longer this went on the wilder he would get, and so +would bring on a fit, so I took him by the hand and raised him up. + +"Come," I said sternly, "no more of this, we have had quite enough +already. Get to your bed and try to behave more discreetly." + +He suddenly stopped and looked at me intently for several moments. +Then, without a word, he rose and moving over, sat down on the side of +the bed. The collapse had come, as on former occasions, just as I had +expected. + +When I was leaving the room, last of our party, he said to me in a +quiet, well-bred voice, "You will, I trust, Dr. Seward, do me the +justice to bear in mind, later on, that I did what I could to convince +you tonight." + + + + +CHAPTER 19 + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +1 October, 5 A.M.--I went with the party to the search with an easy +mind, for I think I never saw Mina so absolutely strong and well. I +am so glad that she consented to hold back and let us men do the work. +Somehow, it was a dread to me that she was in this fearful business at +all, but now that her work is done, and that it is due to her energy +and brains and foresight that the whole story is put together in such +a way that every point tells, she may well feel that her part is +finished, and that she can henceforth leave the rest to us. We were, +I think, all a little upset by the scene with Mr. Renfield. When we +came away from his room we were silent till we got back to the study. + +Then Mr. Morris said to Dr. Seward, "Say, Jack, if that man wasn't +attempting a bluff, he is about the sanest lunatic I ever saw. I'm +not sure, but I believe that he had some serious purpose, and if he +had, it was pretty rough on him not to get a chance." + +Lord Godalming and I were silent, but Dr. Van Helsing added, "Friend +John, you know more lunatics than I do, and I'm glad of it, for I fear +that if it had been to me to decide I would before that last +hysterical outburst have given him free. But we live and learn, and +in our present task we must take no chance, as my friend Quincey would +say. All is best as they are." + +Dr. Seward seemed to answer them both in a dreamy kind of way, "I +don't know but that I agree with you. If that man had been an +ordinary lunatic I would have taken my chance of trusting him, but he +seems so mixed up with the Count in an indexy kind of way that I am +afraid of doing anything wrong by helping his fads. I can't forget +how he prayed with almost equal fervor for a cat, and then tried to +tear my throat out with his teeth. Besides, he called the Count 'lord +and master', and he may want to get out to help him in some diabolical +way. That horrid thing has the wolves and the rats and his own kind +to help him, so I suppose he isn't above trying to use a respectable +lunatic. He certainly did seem earnest, though. I only hope we have +done what is best. These things, in conjunction with the wild work we +have in hand, help to unnerve a man." + +The Professor stepped over, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said +in his grave, kindly way, "Friend John, have no fear. We are trying +to do our duty in a very sad and terrible case, we can only do as we +deem best. What else have we to hope for, except the pity of the good +God?" + +Lord Godalming had slipped away for a few minutes, but now he +returned. He held up a little silver whistle as he remarked, "That +old place may be full of rats, and if so, I've got an antidote on +call." + +Having passed the wall, we took our way to the house, taking care to +keep in the shadows of the trees on the lawn when the moonlight shone +out. When we got to the porch the Professor opened his bag and took +out a lot of things, which he laid on the step, sorting them into four +little groups, evidently one for each. Then he spoke. + +"My friends, we are going into a terrible danger, and we need arms of +many kinds. Our enemy is not merely spiritual. Remember that he has +the strength of twenty men, and that, though our necks or our +windpipes are of the common kind, and therefore breakable or +crushable, his are not amenable to mere strength. A stronger man, or +a body of men more strong in all than him, can at certain times hold +him, but they cannot hurt him as we can be hurt by him. We must, +therefore, guard ourselves from his touch. Keep this near your +heart." As he spoke he lifted a little silver crucifix and held it +out to me, I being nearest to him, "put these flowers round your +neck," here he handed to me a wreath of withered garlic blossoms, "for +other enemies more mundane, this revolver and this knife, and for aid +in all, these so small electric lamps, which you can fasten to your +breast, and for all, and above all at the last, this, which we must +not desecrate needless." + +This was a portion of Sacred Wafer, which he put in an envelope and +handed to me. Each of the others was similarly equipped. + +"Now," he said, "friend John, where are the skeleton keys? If so that +we can open the door, we need not break house by the window, as before +at Miss Lucy's." + +Dr. Seward tried one or two skeleton keys, his mechanical dexterity as +a surgeon standing him in good stead. Presently he got one to suit, +after a little play back and forward the bolt yielded, and with a +rusty clang, shot back. We pressed on the door, the rusty hinges +creaked, and it slowly opened. It was startlingly like the image +conveyed to me in Dr. Seward's diary of the opening of Miss Westenra's +tomb, I fancy that the same idea seemed to strike the others, for with +one accord they shrank back. The Professor was the first to move +forward, and stepped into the open door. + +"In manus tuas, Domine!" he said, crossing himself as he passed over +the threshold. We closed the door behind us, lest when we should have +lit our lamps we should possibly attract attention from the road. The +Professor carefully tried the lock, lest we might not be able to open +it from within should we be in a hurry making our exit. Then we all +lit our lamps and proceeded on our search. + +The light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd forms, as the +rays crossed each other, or the opacity of our bodies threw great +shadows. I could not for my life get away from the feeling that there +was someone else amongst us. I suppose it was the recollection, so +powerfully brought home to me by the grim surroundings, of that +terrible experience in Transylvania. I think the feeling was common +to us all, for I noticed that the others kept looking over their +shoulders at every sound and every new shadow, just as I felt myself +doing. + +The whole place was thick with dust. The floor was seemingly inches +deep, except where there were recent footsteps, in which on holding +down my lamp I could see marks of hobnails where the dust was cracked. +The walls were fluffy and heavy with dust, and in the corners were +masses of spider's webs, whereon the dust had gathered till they +looked like old tattered rags as the weight had torn them partly down. +On a table in the hall was a great bunch of keys, with a time-yellowed +label on each. They had been used several times, for on the table +were several similar rents in the blanket of dust, similar to that +exposed when the Professor lifted them. + +He turned to me and said, "You know this place, Jonathan. You have +copied maps of it, and you know it at least more than we do. Which is +the way to the chapel?" + +I had an idea of its direction, though on my former visit I had not +been able to get admission to it, so I led the way, and after a few +wrong turnings found myself opposite a low, arched oaken door, ribbed +with iron bands. + +"This is the spot," said the Professor as he turned his lamp on a +small map of the house, copied from the file of my original +correspondence regarding the purchase. With a little trouble we found +the key on the bunch and opened the door. We were prepared for some +unpleasantness, for as we were opening the door a faint, malodorous +air seemed to exhale through the gaps, but none of us ever expected +such an odour as we encountered. None of the others had met the Count +at all at close quarters, and when I had seen him he was either in the +fasting stage of his existence in his rooms or, when he was bloated +with fresh blood, in a ruined building open to the air, but here the +place was small and close, and the long disuse had made the air +stagnant and foul. There was an earthy smell, as of some dry miasma, +which came through the fouler air. But as to the odour itself, how +shall I describe it? It was not alone that it was composed of all the +ills of mortality and with the pungent, acrid smell of blood, but it +seemed as though corruption had become itself corrupt. Faugh! It +sickens me to think of it. Every breath exhaled by that monster +seemed to have clung to the place and intensified its loathsomeness. + +Under ordinary circumstances such a stench would have brought our +enterprise to an end, but this was no ordinary case, and the high and +terrible purpose in which we were involved gave us a strength which +rose above merely physical considerations. After the involuntary +shrinking consequent on the first nauseous whiff, we one and all set +about our work as though that loathsome place were a garden of roses. + +We made an accurate examination of the place, the Professor saying as +we began, "The first thing is to see how many of the boxes are left, +we must then examine every hole and corner and cranny and see if we +cannot get some clue as to what has become of the rest." + +A glance was sufficient to show how many remained, for the great earth +chests were bulky, and there was no mistaking them. + +There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got a +fright, for, seeing Lord Godalming suddenly turn and look out of the +vaulted door into the dark passage beyond, I looked too, and for an +instant my heart stood still. Somewhere, looking out from the shadow, +I seemed to see the high lights of the Count's evil face, the ridge of +the nose, the red eyes, the red lips, the awful pallor. It was only +for a moment, for, as Lord Godalming said, "I thought I saw a face, +but it was only the shadows," and resumed his inquiry, I turned my +lamp in the direction, and stepped into the passage. There was no +sign of anyone, and as there were no corners, no doors, no aperture of +any kind, but only the solid walls of the passage, there could be no +hiding place even for him. I took it that fear had helped +imagination, and said nothing. + +A few minutes later I saw Morris step suddenly back from a corner, +which he was examining. We all followed his movements with our eyes, +for undoubtedly some nervousness was growing on us, and we saw a whole +mass of phosphorescence, which twinkled like stars. We all +instinctively drew back. The whole place was becoming alive with +rats. + +For a moment or two we stood appalled, all save Lord Godalming, who +was seemingly prepared for such an emergency. Rushing over to the +great iron-bound oaken door, which Dr. Seward had described from the +outside, and which I had seen myself, he turned the key in the lock, +drew the huge bolts, and swung the door open. Then, taking his little +silver whistle from his pocket, he blew a low, shrill call. It was +answered from behind Dr. Seward's house by the yelping of dogs, and +after about a minute three terriers came dashing round the corner of +the house. Unconsciously we had all moved towards the door, and as we +moved I noticed that the dust had been much disturbed. The boxes +which had been taken out had been brought this way. But even in the +minute that had elapsed the number of the rats had vastly increased. +They seemed to swarm over the place all at once, till the lamplight, +shining on their moving dark bodies and glittering, baleful eyes, made +the place look like a bank of earth set with fireflies. The dogs +dashed on, but at the threshold suddenly stopped and snarled, and +then, simultaneously lifting their noses, began to howl in most +lugubrious fashion. The rats were multiplying in thousands, and we +moved out. + +Lord Godalming lifted one of the dogs, and carrying him in, placed him +on the floor. The instant his feet touched the ground he seemed to +recover his courage, and rushed at his natural enemies. They fled +before him so fast that before he had shaken the life out of a score, +the other dogs, who had by now been lifted in the same manner, had but +small prey ere the whole mass had vanished. + +With their going it seemed as if some evil presence had departed, for +the dogs frisked about and barked merrily as they made sudden darts at +their prostrate foes, and turned them over and over and tossed them in +the air with vicious shakes. We all seemed to find our spirits rise. +Whether it was the purifying of the deadly atmosphere by the opening +of the chapel door, or the relief which we experienced by finding +ourselves in the open I know not, but most certainly the shadow of +dread seemed to slip from us like a robe, and the occasion of our +coming lost something of its grim significance, though we did not +slacken a whit in our resolution. We closed the outer door and barred +and locked it, and bringing the dogs with us, began our search of the +house. We found nothing throughout except dust in extraordinary +proportions, and all untouched save for my own footsteps when I had +made my first visit. Never once did the dogs exhibit any symptom of +uneasiness, and even when we returned to the chapel they frisked about +as though they had been rabbit hunting in a summer wood. + +The morning was quickening in the east when we emerged from the front. +Dr. Van Helsing had taken the key of the hall door from the bunch, and +locked the door in orthodox fashion, putting the key into his pocket +when he had done. + +"So far," he said, "our night has been eminently successful. No harm +has come to us such as I feared might be and yet we have ascertained +how many boxes are missing. More than all do I rejoice that this, our +first, and perhaps our most difficult and dangerous, step has been +accomplished without the bringing thereinto our most sweet Madam Mina +or troubling her waking or sleeping thoughts with sights and sounds +and smells of horror which she might never forget. One lesson, too, +we have learned, if it be allowable to argue a particulari, that the +brute beasts which are to the Count's command are yet themselves not +amenable to his spiritual power, for look, these rats that would come +to his call, just as from his castle top he summon the wolves to your +going and to that poor mother's cry, though they come to him, they run +pell-mell from the so little dogs of my friend Arthur. We have other +matters before us, other dangers, other fears, and that monster . . . +He has not used his power over the brute world for the only or the +last time tonight. So be it that he has gone elsewhere. Good! It +has given us opportunity to cry 'check' in some ways in this chess +game, which we play for the stake of human souls. And now let us go +home. The dawn is close at hand, and we have reason to be content +with our first night's work. It may be ordained that we have many +nights and days to follow, if full of peril, but we must go on, and +from no danger shall we shrink." + +The house was silent when we got back, save for some poor creature who +was screaming away in one of the distant wards, and a low, moaning +sound from Renfield's room. The poor wretch was doubtless torturing +himself, after the manner of the insane, with needless thoughts of +pain. + +I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep, breathing so +softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it. She looks paler than +usual. I hope the meeting tonight has not upset her. I am truly +thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of +our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I +did not think so at first, but I know better now. Therefore I am glad +that it is settled. There may be things which would frighten her to +hear, and yet to conceal them from her might be worse than to tell her +if once she suspected that there was any concealment. Henceforth our +work is to be a sealed book to her, till at least such time as we can +tell her that all is finished, and the earth free from a monster of +the nether world. I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep +silence after such confidence as ours, but I must be resolute, and +tomorrow I shall keep dark over tonight's doings, and shall refuse to +speak of anything that has happened. I rest on the sofa, so as not to +disturb her. + + +1 October, later.--I suppose it was natural that we should have all +overslept ourselves, for the day was a busy one, and the night had no +rest at all. Even Mina must have felt its exhaustion, for though I +slept till the sun was high, I was awake before her, and had to call +two or three times before she awoke. Indeed, she was so sound asleep +that for a few seconds she did not recognize me, but looked at me with +a sort of blank terror, as one looks who has been waked out of a bad +dream. She complained a little of being tired, and I let her rest +till later in the day. We now know of twenty-one boxes having been +removed, and if it be that several were taken in any of these removals +we may be able to trace them all. Such will, of course, immensely +simplify our labor, and the sooner the matter is attended to the +better. I shall look up Thomas Snelling today. + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +1 October.--It was towards noon when I was awakened by the Professor +walking into my room. He was more jolly and cheerful than usual, and +it is quite evident that last night's work has helped to take some of +the brooding weight off his mind. + +After going over the adventure of the night he suddenly said, "Your +patient interests me much. May it be that with you I visit him this +morning? Or if that you are too occupy, I can go alone if it may be. +It is a new experience to me to find a lunatic who talk philosophy, +and reason so sound." + +I had some work to do which pressed, so I told him that if he would go +alone I would be glad, as then I should not have to keep him waiting, +so I called an attendant and gave him the necessary instructions. +Before the Professor left the room I cautioned him against getting any +false impression from my patient. + +"But," he answered, "I want him to talk of himself and of his delusion +as to consuming live things. He said to Madam Mina, as I see in your +diary of yesterday, that he had once had such a belief. Why do you +smile, friend John?" + +"Excuse me," I said, "but the answer is here." I laid my hand on the +typewritten matter. "When our sane and learned lunatic made that very +statement of how he used to consume life, his mouth was actually +nauseous with the flies and spiders which he had eaten just before +Mrs. Harker entered the room." + +Van Helsing smiled in turn. "Good!" he said. "Your memory is true, +friend John. I should have remembered. And yet it is this very +obliquity of thought and memory which makes mental disease such a +fascinating study. Perhaps I may gain more knowledge out of the folly +of this madman than I shall from the teaching of the most wise. Who +knows?" + +I went on with my work, and before long was through that in hand. It +seemed that the time had been very short indeed, but there was Van +Helsing back in the study. + +"Do I interrupt?" he asked politely as he stood at the door. + +"Not at all," I answered. "Come in. My work is finished, and I am +free. I can go with you now, if you like." + +"It is needless, I have seen him!" + +"Well?" + +"I fear that he does not appraise me at much. Our interview was +short. When I entered his room he was sitting on a stool in the +centre, with his elbows on his knees, and his face was the picture of +sullen discontent. I spoke to him as cheerfully as I could, and with +such a measure of respect as I could assume. He made no reply +whatever. 'Don't you know me?' I asked. His answer was not +reassuring: 'I know you well enough; you are the old fool Van +Helsing. I wish you would take yourself and your idiotic brain +theories somewhere else. Damn all thick-headed Dutchmen!' Not a word +more would he say, but sat in his implacable sullenness as indifferent +to me as though I had not been in the room at all. Thus departed for +this time my chance of much learning from this so clever lunatic, so I +shall go, if I may, and cheer myself with a few happy words with that +sweet soul Madam Mina. Friend John, it does rejoice me unspeakable +that she is no more to be pained, no more to be worried with our +terrible things. Though we shall much miss her help, it is better +so." + +"I agree with you with all my heart," I answered earnestly, for I did +not want him to weaken in this matter. "Mrs. Harker is better out of +it. Things are quite bad enough for us, all men of the world, and who +have been in many tight places in our time, but it is no place for a +woman, and if she had remained in touch with the affair, it would in +time infallibly have wrecked her." + +So Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and Harker, Quincey +and Art are all out following up the clues as to the earth boxes. I +shall finish my round of work and we shall meet tonight. + + + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +1 October.--It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am today, +after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him +manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. +This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and though +Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me before he +went out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mentioned a +word of what had happened in the visit to the Count's house. And yet +he must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I +suppose it must have distressed him even more than it did me. They +all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn further into +this awful work, and I acquiesced. But to think that he keeps +anything from me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know +it comes from my husband's great love and from the good, good wishes +of those other strong men. + +That has done me good. Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all. And +lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I kept +anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he has +feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of my +heart put down for his dear eyes to read. I feel strangely sad and +low-spirited today. I suppose it is the reaction from the terrible +excitement. + +Last night I went to bed when the men had gone, simply because they +told me to. I didn't feel sleepy, and I did feel full of devouring +anxiety. I kept thinking over everything that has been ever since +Jonathan came to see me in London, and it all seems like a horrible +tragedy, with fate pressing on relentlessly to some destined end. +Everything that one does seems, no matter how right it may be, to bring +on the very thing which is most to be deplored. If I hadn't gone to +Whitby, perhaps poor dear Lucy would be with us now. She hadn't taken +to visiting the churchyard till I came, and if she hadn't come there +in the day time with me she wouldn't have walked in her sleep. And if +she hadn't gone there at night and asleep, that monster couldn't have +destroyed her as he did. Oh, why did I ever go to Whitby? There now, +crying again! I wonder what has come over me today. I must hide it +from Jonathan, for if he knew that I had been crying twice in one +morning . . . I, who never cried on my own account, and whom he has +never caused to shed a tear, the dear fellow would fret his heart out. +I shall put a bold face on, and if I do feel weepy, he shall never see +it. I suppose it is just one of the lessons that we poor women have +to learn . . . + +I can't quite remember how I fell asleep last night. I remember +hearing the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of queer sounds, like +praying on a very tumultuous scale, from Mr. Renfield's room, which is +somewhere under this. And then there was silence over everything, +silence so profound that it startled me, and I got up and looked out +of the window. All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by +the moonlight seeming full of a silent mystery of their own. Not a +thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or +fate, so that a thin streak of white mist, that crept with almost +imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house, seemed to +have a sentience and a vitality of its own. I think that the +digression of my thoughts must have done me good, for when I got back +to bed I found a lethargy creeping over me. I lay a while, but could +not quite sleep, so I got out and looked out of the window again. The +mist was spreading, and was now close up to the house, so that I could +see it lying thick against the wall, as though it were stealing up to +the windows. The poor man was more loud than ever, and though I could +not distinguish a word he said, I could in some way recognize in his +tones some passionate entreaty on his part. Then there was the sound +of a struggle, and I knew that the attendants were dealing with him. +I was so frightened that I crept into bed, and pulled the clothes over +my head, putting my fingers in my ears. I was not then a bit sleepy, +at least so I thought, but I must have fallen asleep, for except +dreams, I do not remember anything until the morning, when Jonathan +woke me. I think that it took me an effort and a little time to +realize where I was, and that it was Jonathan who was bending over me. +My dream was very peculiar, and was almost typical of the way that +waking thoughts become merged in, or continued in, dreams. + +I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Jonathan to come back. I +was very anxious about him, and I was powerless to act, my feet, and +my hands, and my brain were weighted, so that nothing could proceed at +the usual pace. And so I slept uneasily and thought. Then it began +to dawn upon me that the air was heavy, and dank, and cold. I put +back the clothes from my face, and found, to my surprise, that all was +dim around. The gaslight which I had left lit for Jonathan, but +turned down, came only like a tiny red spark through the fog, which +had evidently grown thicker and poured into the room. Then it +occurred to me that I had shut the window before I had come to bed. I +would have got out to make certain on the point, but some leaden +lethargy seemed to chain my limbs and even my will. I lay still and +endured, that was all. I closed my eyes, but could still see through +my eyelids. (It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how +conveniently we can imagine.) The mist grew thicker and thicker and I +could see now how it came in, for I could see it like smoke, or with +the white energy of boiling water, pouring in, not through the window, +but through the joinings of the door. It got thicker and thicker, +till it seemed as if it became concentrated into a sort of pillar of +cloud in the room, through the top of which I could see the light of +the gas shining like a red eye. Things began to whirl through my +brain just as the cloudy column was now whirling in the room, and +through it all came the scriptural words "a pillar of cloud by day and +of fire by night." Was it indeed such spiritual guidance that was +coming to me in my sleep? But the pillar was composed of both the day +and the night guiding, for the fire was in the red eye, which at the +thought got a new fascination for me, till, as I looked, the fire +divided, and seemed to shine on me through the fog like two red eyes, +such as Lucy told me of in her momentary mental wandering when, on the +cliff, the dying sunlight struck the windows of St. Mary's Church. +Suddenly the horror burst upon me that it was thus that Jonathan had +seen those awful women growing into reality through the whirling mist +in the moonlight, and in my dream I must have fainted, for all became +black darkness. The last conscious effort which imagination made was +to show me a livid white face bending over me out of the mist. + +I must be careful of such dreams, for they would unseat one's reason if +there were too much of them. I would get Dr. Van Helsing or Dr. +Seward to prescribe something for me which would make me sleep, only +that I fear to alarm them. Such a dream at the present time would +become woven into their fears for me. Tonight I shall strive hard to +sleep naturally. If I do not, I shall tomorrow night get them to give +me a dose of chloral, that cannot hurt me for once, and it will give +me a good night's sleep. Last night tired me more than if I had not +slept at all. + + +2 October 10 P.M.--Last night I slept, but did not dream. I must have +slept soundly, for I was not waked by Jonathan coming to bed, but the +sleep has not refreshed me, for today I feel terribly weak and +spiritless. I spent all yesterday trying to read, or lying down +dozing. In the afternoon, Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me. Poor +man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and +bade God bless me. Some way it affected me much. I am crying when I +think of him. This is a new weakness, of which I must be careful. +Jonathan would be miserable if he knew I had been crying. He and the +others were out till dinner time, and they all came in tired. I did +what I could to brighten them up, and I suppose that the effort did me +good, for I forgot how tired I was. After dinner they sent me to bed, +and all went off to smoke together, as they said, but I knew that they +wanted to tell each other of what had occurred to each during the day. +I could see from Jonathan's manner that he had something important to +communicate. I was not so sleepy as I should have been, so before +they went I asked Dr. Seward to give me a little opiate of some kind, +as I had not slept well the night before. He very kindly made me up a +sleeping draught, which he gave to me, telling me that it would do me +no harm, as it was very mild . . . I have taken it, and am waiting for +sleep, which still keeps aloof. I hope I have not done wrong, for as +sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fear comes: that I may have been +foolish in thus depriving myself of the power of waking. I might want +it. Here comes sleep. Goodnight. + + + + +CHAPTER 20 + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +1 October, evening.--I found Thomas Snelling in his house at Bethnal +Green, but unhappily he was not in a condition to remember anything. +The very prospect of beer which my expected coming had opened to him +had proved too much, and he had begun too early on his expected +debauch. I learned, however, from his wife, who seemed a decent, poor +soul, that he was only the assistant of Smollet, who of the two mates +was the responsible person. So off I drove to Walworth, and found Mr. +Joseph Smollet at home and in his shirtsleeves, taking a late tea out +of a saucer. He is a decent, intelligent fellow, distinctly a good, +reliable type of workman, and with a headpiece of his own. He +remembered all about the incident of the boxes, and from a wonderful +dog-eared notebook, which he produced from some mysterious receptacle +about the seat of his trousers, and which had hieroglyphical entries +in thick, half-obliterated pencil, he gave me the destinations of the +boxes. There were, he said, six in the cartload which he took from +Carfax and left at 197 Chicksand Street, Mile End New Town, and +another six which he deposited at Jamaica Lane, Bermondsey. If then +the Count meant to scatter these ghastly refuges of his over London, +these places were chosen as the first of delivery, so that later he +might distribute more fully. The systematic manner in which this was +done made me think that he could not mean to confine himself to two +sides of London. He was now fixed on the far east on the northern +shore, on the east of the southern shore, and on the south. The north +and west were surely never meant to be left out of his diabolical +scheme, let alone the City itself and the very heart of fashionable +London in the south-west and west. I went back to Smollet, and asked +him if he could tell us if any other boxes had been taken from Carfax. + +He replied, "Well guv'nor, you've treated me very 'an'some", I had +given him half a sovereign, "an I'll tell yer all I know. I heard a +man by the name of Bloxam say four nights ago in the 'Are an' 'Ounds, +in Pincher's Alley, as 'ow he an' his mate 'ad 'ad a rare dusty job in +a old 'ouse at Purfleet. There ain't a many such jobs as this 'ere, +an' I'm thinkin' that maybe Sam Bloxam could tell ye summut." + +I asked if he could tell me where to find him. I told him that if he +could get me the address it would be worth another half sovereign to +him. So he gulped down the rest of his tea and stood up, saying that +he was going to begin the search then and there. + +At the door he stopped, and said, "Look 'ere, guv'nor, there ain't no +sense in me a keepin' you 'ere. I may find Sam soon, or I mayn't, but +anyhow he ain't like to be in a way to tell ye much tonight. Sam is a +rare one when he starts on the booze. If you can give me a envelope +with a stamp on it, and put yer address on it, I'll find out where Sam +is to be found and post it ye tonight. But ye'd better be up arter +'im soon in the mornin', never mind the booze the night afore." + +This was all practical, so one of the children went off with a penny +to buy an envelope and a sheet of paper, and to keep the change. When +she came back, I addressed the envelope and stamped it, and when +Smollet had again faithfully promised to post the address when found, +I took my way to home. We're on the track anyhow. I am tired +tonight, and I want to sleep. Mina is fast asleep, and looks a little +too pale. Her eyes look as though she had been crying. Poor dear, +I've no doubt it frets her to be kept in the dark, and it may make her +doubly anxious about me and the others. But it is best as it is. It +is better to be disappointed and worried in such a way now than to +have her nerve broken. The doctors were quite right to insist on her +being kept out of this dreadful business. I must be firm, for on me +this particular burden of silence must rest. I shall not ever enter +on the subject with her under any circumstances. Indeed, It may not +be a hard task, after all, for she herself has become reticent on the +subject, and has not spoken of the Count or his doings ever since we +told her of our decision. + + +2 October, evening--A long and trying and exciting day. By the first +post I got my directed envelope with a dirty scrap of paper enclosed, +on which was written with a carpenter's pencil in a sprawling hand, +"Sam Bloxam, Korkrans, 4 Poters Cort, Bartel Street, Walworth. Arsk +for the depite." + +I got the letter in bed, and rose without waking Mina. She looked +heavy and sleepy and pale, and far from well. I determined not to +wake her, but that when I should return from this new search, I would +arrange for her going back to Exeter. I think she would be happier in +our own home, with her daily tasks to interest her, than in being here +amongst us and in ignorance. I only saw Dr. Seward for a moment, and +told him where I was off to, promising to come back and tell the rest +so soon as I should have found out anything. I drove to Walworth and +found, with some difficulty, Potter's Court. Mr. Smollet's spelling +misled me, as I asked for Poter's Court instead of Potter's Court. +However, when I had found the court, I had no difficulty in +discovering Corcoran's lodging house. + +When I asked the man who came to the door for the "depite," he shook +his head, and said, "I dunno 'im. There ain't no such a person 'ere. +I never 'eard of 'im in all my bloomin' days. Don't believe there +ain't nobody of that kind livin' 'ere or anywheres." + +I took out Smollet's letter, and as I read it it seemed to me that the +lesson of the spelling of the name of the court might guide me. "What +are you?" I asked. + +"I'm the depity," he answered. + +I saw at once that I was on the right track. Phonetic spelling had +again misled me. A half crown tip put the deputy's knowledge at my +disposal, and I learned that Mr. Bloxam, who had slept off the remains +of his beer on the previous night at Corcoran's, had left for his work +at Poplar at five o'clock that morning. He could not tell me where +the place of work was situated, but he had a vague idea that it was +some kind of a "new-fangled ware'us," and with this slender clue I had +to start for Poplar. It was twelve o'clock before I got any +satisfactory hint of such a building, and this I got at a coffee shop, +where some workmen were having their dinner. One of them suggested +that there was being erected at Cross Angel Street a new "cold +storage" building, and as this suited the condition of a "new-fangled +ware'us," I at once drove to it. An interview with a surly gatekeeper +and a surlier foreman, both of whom were appeased with the coin of the +realm, put me on the track of Bloxam. He was sent for on my +suggestion that I was willing to pay his days wages to his foreman for +the privilege of asking him a few questions on a private matter. He +was a smart enough fellow, though rough of speech and bearing. When I +had promised to pay for his information and given him an earnest, he +told me that he had made two journeys between Carfax and a house in +Piccadilly, and had taken from this house to the latter nine great +boxes, "main heavy ones," with a horse and cart hired by him for this +purpose. + +I asked him if he could tell me the number of the house in Piccadilly, +to which he replied, "Well, guv'nor, I forgits the number, but it was +only a few door from a big white church, or somethink of the kind, not +long built. It was a dusty old 'ouse, too, though nothin' to the +dustiness of the 'ouse we tooked the bloomin' boxes from." + +"How did you get in if both houses were empty?" + +"There was the old party what engaged me a waitin' in the 'ouse at +Purfleet. He 'elped me to lift the boxes and put them in the dray. +Curse me, but he was the strongest chap I ever struck, an' him a old +feller, with a white moustache, one that thin you would think he +couldn't throw a shadder." + +How this phrase thrilled through me! + +"Why, 'e took up 'is end o' the boxes like they was pounds of tea, and +me a puffin' an' a blowin' afore I could upend mine anyhow, an' I'm no +chicken, neither." + +"How did you get into the house in Piccadilly?" I asked. + +"He was there too. He must 'a started off and got there afore me, for +when I rung of the bell he kem an' opened the door 'isself an' 'elped +me carry the boxes into the 'all." + +"The whole nine?" I asked. + +"Yus, there was five in the first load an' four in the second. It was +main dry work, an' I don't so well remember 'ow I got 'ome." + +I interrupted him, "Were the boxes left in the hall?" + +"Yus, it was a big 'all, an' there was nothin' else in it." + +I made one more attempt to further matters. "You didn't have any +key?" + +"Never used no key nor nothink. The old gent, he opened the door +'isself an' shut it again when I druv off. I don't remember the last +time, but that was the beer." + +"And you can't remember the number of the house?" + +"No, sir. But ye needn't have no difficulty about that. It's a 'igh +'un with a stone front with a bow on it, an' 'igh steps up to the +door. I know them steps, 'avin' 'ad to carry the boxes up with three +loafers what come round to earn a copper. The old gent give them +shillin's, an' they seein' they got so much, they wanted more. But 'e +took one of them by the shoulder and was like to throw 'im down the +steps, till the lot of them went away cussin'." + +I thought that with this description I could find the house, so having +paid my friend for his information, I started off for Piccadilly. I +had gained a new painful experience. The Count could, it was evident, +handle the earth boxes himself. If so, time was precious, for now +that he had achieved a certain amount of distribution, he could, by +choosing his own time, complete the task unobserved. At Piccadilly +Circus I discharged my cab, and walked westward. Beyond the Junior +Constitutional I came across the house described and was satisfied +that this was the next of the lairs arranged by Dracula. The house +looked as though it had been long untenanted. The windows were +encrusted with dust, and the shutters were up. All the framework was +black with time, and from the iron the paint had mostly scaled away. +It was evident that up to lately there had been a large notice board +in front of the balcony. It had, however, been roughly torn away, the +uprights which had supported it still remaining. Behind the rails of +the balcony I saw there were some loose boards, whose raw edges looked +white. I would have given a good deal to have been able to see the +notice board intact, as it would, perhaps, have given some clue to the +ownership of the house. I remembered my experience of the investigation +and purchase of Carfax, and I could not but feel that if I could find +the former owner there might be some means discovered of gaining access +to the house. + +There was at present nothing to be learned from the Piccadilly side, +and nothing could be done, so I went around to the back to see if +anything could be gathered from this quarter. The mews were active, +the Piccadilly houses being mostly in occupation. I asked one or two +of the grooms and helpers whom I saw around if they could tell me +anything about the empty house. One of them said that he heard it had +lately been taken, but he couldn't say from whom. He told me, +however, that up to very lately there had been a notice board of "For +Sale" up, and that perhaps Mitchell, Sons, & Candy the house agents +could tell me something, as he thought he remembered seeing the name +of that firm on the board. I did not wish to seem too eager, or to +let my informant know or guess too much, so thanking him in the usual +manner, I strolled away. It was now growing dusk, and the autumn +night was closing in, so I did not lose any time. Having learned the +address of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy from a directory at the Berkeley, I +was soon at their office in Sackville Street. + +The gentleman who saw me was particularly suave in manner, but +uncommunicative in equal proportion. Having once told me that the +Piccadilly house, which throughout our interview he called a +"mansion," was sold, he considered my business as concluded. When I +asked who had purchased it, he opened his eyes a thought wider, and +paused a few seconds before replying, "It is sold, sir." + +"Pardon me," I said, with equal politeness, "but I have a special +reason for wishing to know who purchased it." + +Again he paused longer, and raised his eyebrows still more. "It is +sold, sir," was again his laconic reply. + +"Surely," I said, "you do not mind letting me know so much." + +"But I do mind," he answered. "The affairs of their clients are +absolutely safe in the hands of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy." + +This was manifestly a prig of the first water, and there was no use +arguing with him. I thought I had best meet him on his own ground, so +I said, "Your clients, sir, are happy in having so resolute a guardian +of their confidence. I am myself a professional man." + +Here I handed him my card. "In this instance I am not prompted by +curiosity, I act on the part of Lord Godalming, who wishes to know +something of the property which was, he understood, lately for sale." + +These words put a different complexion on affairs. He said, "I would +like to oblige you if I could, Mr. Harker, and especially would I like +to oblige his lordship. We once carried out a small matter of renting +some chambers for him when he was the honourable Arthur Holmwood. If +you will let me have his lordship's address I will consult the House +on the subject, and will, in any case, communicate with his lordship +by tonight's post. It will be a pleasure if we can so far deviate +from our rules as to give the required information to his lordship." + +I wanted to secure a friend, and not to make an enemy, so I thanked +him, gave the address at Dr. Seward's and came away. It was now dark, +and I was tired and hungry. I got a cup of tea at the Aerated Bread +Company and came down to Purfleet by the next train. + +I found all the others at home. Mina was looking tired and pale, but +she made a gallant effort to be bright and cheerful. It wrung my +heart to think that I had had to keep anything from her and so caused +her inquietude. Thank God, this will be the last night of her looking +on at our conferences, and feeling the sting of our not showing our +confidence. It took all my courage to hold to the wise resolution of +keeping her out of our grim task. She seems somehow more reconciled, +or else the very subject seems to have become repugnant to her, for +when any accidental allusion is made she actually shudders. I am glad +we made our resolution in time, as with such a feeling as this, our +growing knowledge would be torture to her. + +I could not tell the others of the day's discovery till we were alone, +so after dinner, followed by a little music to save appearances even +amongst ourselves, I took Mina to her room and left her to go to bed. +The dear girl was more affectionate with me than ever, and clung to me +as though she would detain me, but there was much to be talked of and +I came away. Thank God, the ceasing of telling things has made no +difference between us. + +When I came down again I found the others all gathered round the fire +in the study. In the train I had written my diary so far, and simply +read it off to them as the best means of letting them get abreast of +my own information. + +When I had finished Van Helsing said, "This has been a great day's +work, friend Jonathan. Doubtless we are on the track of the missing +boxes. If we find them all in that house, then our work is near the +end. But if there be some missing, we must search until we find them. +Then shall we make our final coup, and hunt the wretch to his real +death." + +We all sat silent awhile and all at once Mr. Morris spoke, "Say! How +are we going to get into that house?" + +"We got into the other," answered Lord Godalming quickly. + +"But, Art, this is different. We broke house at Carfax, but we had +night and a walled park to protect us. It will be a mighty different +thing to commit burglary in Piccadilly, either by day or night. I +confess I don't see how we are going to get in unless that agency duck +can find us a key of some sort." + +Lord Godalming's brows contracted, and he stood up and walked about the +room. By-and-by he stopped and said, turning from one to another of +us, "Quincey's head is level. This burglary business is getting +serious. We got off once all right, but we have now a rare job on +hand. Unless we can find the Count's key basket." + +As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would be at +least advisable to wait till Lord Godalming should hear from +Mitchell's, we decided not to take any active step before breakfast +time. For a good while we sat and smoked, discussing the matter in +its various lights and bearings. I took the opportunity of bringing +this diary right up to the moment. I am very sleepy and shall go to +bed . . . + +Just a line. Mina sleeps soundly and her breathing is regular. Her +forehead is puckered up into little wrinkles, as though she thinks +even in her sleep. She is still too pale, but does not look so +haggard as she did this morning. Tomorrow will, I hope, mend all +this. She will be herself at home in Exeter. Oh, but I am sleepy! + + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +1 October.--I am puzzled afresh about Renfield. His moods change so +rapidly that I find it difficult to keep touch of them, and as they +always mean something more than his own well-being, they form a more +than interesting study. This morning, when I went to see him after +his repulse of Van Helsing, his manner was that of a man commanding +destiny. He was, in fact, commanding destiny, subjectively. He did +not really care for any of the things of mere earth, he was in the +clouds and looked down on all the weaknesses and wants of us poor +mortals. + +I thought I would improve the occasion and learn something, so I asked +him, "What about the flies these times?" + +He smiled on me in quite a superior sort of way, such a smile as would +have become the face of Malvolio, as he answered me, "The fly, my dear +sir, has one striking feature. It's wings are typical of the aerial +powers of the psychic faculties. The ancients did well when they +typified the soul as a butterfly!" + +I thought I would push his analogy to its utmost logically, so I said +quickly, "Oh, it is a soul you are after now, is it?" + +His madness foiled his reason, and a puzzled look spread over his face +as, shaking his head with a decision which I had but seldom seen in +him. + +He said, "Oh, no, oh no! I want no souls. Life is all I want." Here +he brightened up. "I am pretty indifferent about it at present. Life +is all right. I have all I want. You must get a new patient, doctor, +if you wish to study zoophagy!" + +This puzzled me a little, so I drew him on. "Then you command life. +You are a god, I suppose?" + +He smiled with an ineffably benign superiority. "Oh no! Far be it +from me to arrogate to myself the attributes of the Deity. I am not +even concerned in His especially spiritual doings. If I may state my +intellectual position I am, so far as concerns things purely +terrestrial, somewhat in the position which Enoch occupied +spiritually!" + +This was a poser to me. I could not at the moment recall Enoch's +appositeness, so I had to ask a simple question, though I felt that by +so doing I was lowering myself in the eyes of the lunatic. "And why +with Enoch?" + +"Because he walked with God." + +I could not see the analogy, but did not like to admit it, so I harked +back to what he had denied. "So you don't care about life and you +don't want souls. Why not?" I put my question quickly and somewhat +sternly, on purpose to disconcert him. + +The effort succeeded, for an instant he unconsciously relapsed into +his old servile manner, bent low before me, and actually fawned upon +me as he replied. "I don't want any souls, indeed, indeed! I don't. +I couldn't use them if I had them. They would be no manner of use to +me. I couldn't eat them or . . ." + +He suddenly stopped and the old cunning look spread over his face, +like a wind sweep on the surface of the water. + +"And doctor, as to life, what is it after all? When you've got all +you require, and you know that you will never want, that is all. I +have friends, good friends, like you, Dr. Seward." This was said with +a leer of inexpressible cunning. "I know that I shall never lack the +means of life!" + +I think that through the cloudiness of his insanity he saw some +antagonism in me, for he at once fell back on the last refuge of such +as he, a dogged silence. After a short time I saw that for the +present it was useless to speak to him. He was sulky, and so I came +away. + +Later in the day he sent for me. Ordinarily I would not have come +without special reason, but just at present I am so interested in him +that I would gladly make an effort. Besides, I am glad to have +anything to help pass the time. Harker is out, following up clues, +and so are Lord Godalming and Quincey. Van Helsing sits in my study +poring over the record prepared by the Harkers. He seems to think +that by accurate knowledge of all details he will light up on some +clue. He does not wish to be disturbed in the work, without cause. I +would have taken him with me to see the patient, only I thought that +after his last repulse he might not care to go again. There was also +another reason. Renfield might not speak so freely before a third +person as when he and I were alone. + +I found him sitting in the middle of the floor on his stool, a pose +which is generally indicative of some mental energy on his part. When +I came in, he said at once, as though the question had been waiting on +his lips. "What about souls?" + +It was evident then that my surmise had been correct. Unconscious +cerebration was doing its work, even with the lunatic. I determined +to have the matter out. + +"What about them yourself?" I asked. + +He did not reply for a moment but looked all around him, and up and +down, as though he expected to find some inspiration for an answer. + +"I don't want any souls!" he said in a feeble, apologetic way. The +matter seemed preying on his mind, and so I determined to use it, to +"be cruel only to be kind." So I said, "You like life, and you want +life?" + +"Oh yes! But that is all right. You needn't worry about that!" + +"But," I asked, "how are we to get the life without getting the soul +also?" + +This seemed to puzzle him, so I followed it up, "A nice time you'll +have some time when you're flying out here, with the souls of +thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats buzzing and +twittering and moaning all around you. You've got their lives, you +know, and you must put up with their souls!" + +Something seemed to affect his imagination, for he put his fingers to +his ears and shut his eyes, screwing them up tightly just as a small +boy does when his face is being soaped. There was something pathetic +in it that touched me. It also gave me a lesson, for it seemed that +before me was a child, only a child, though the features were worn, +and the stubble on the jaws was white. It was evident that he was +undergoing some process of mental disturbance, and knowing how his +past moods had interpreted things seemingly foreign to himself, I +thought I would enter into his mind as well as I could and go with him. + +The first step was to restore confidence, so I asked him, speaking +pretty loud so that he would hear me through his closed ears, "Would +you like some sugar to get your flies around again?" + +He seemed to wake up all at once, and shook his head. With a laugh he +replied, "Not much! Flies are poor things, after all!" After a pause +he added, "But I don't want their souls buzzing round me, all the +same." + +"Or spiders?" I went on. + +"Blow spiders! What's the use of spiders? There isn't anything in +them to eat or . . ." He stopped suddenly as though reminded of a +forbidden topic. + +"So, so!" I thought to myself, "this is the second time he has +suddenly stopped at the word 'drink'. What does it mean?" + +Renfield seemed himself aware of having made a lapse, for he hurried +on, as though to distract my attention from it, "I don't take any +stock at all in such matters. 'Rats and mice and such small deer,' as +Shakespeare has it, 'chicken feed of the larder' they might be called. +I'm past all that sort of nonsense. You might as well ask a man to +eat molecules with a pair of chopsticks, as to try to interest me +about the less carnivora, when I know of what is before me." + +"I see," I said. "You want big things that you can make your teeth +meet in? How would you like to breakfast on an elephant?" + +"What ridiculous nonsense you are talking?" He was getting too wide +awake, so I thought I would press him hard. + +"I wonder," I said reflectively, "what an elephant's soul is like!" + +The effect I desired was obtained, for he at once fell from his +high-horse and became a child again. + +"I don't want an elephant's soul, or any soul at all!" he said. For a +few moments he sat despondently. Suddenly he jumped to his feet, with +his eyes blazing and all the signs of intense cerebral excitement. +"To hell with you and your souls!" he shouted. "Why do you plague me +about souls? Haven't I got enough to worry, and pain, to distract me +already, without thinking of souls?" + +He looked so hostile that I thought he was in for another homicidal +fit, so I blew my whistle. + +The instant, however, that I did so he became calm, and said +apologetically, "Forgive me, Doctor. I forgot myself. You do not +need any help. I am so worried in my mind that I am apt to be +irritable. If you only knew the problem I have to face, and that I am +working out, you would pity, and tolerate, and pardon me. Pray do not +put me in a strait waistcoat. I want to think and I cannot think +freely when my body is confined. I am sure you will understand!" + +He had evidently self-control, so when the attendants came I told them +not to mind, and they withdrew. Renfield watched them go. When the +door was closed he said with considerable dignity and sweetness, "Dr. +Seward, you have been very considerate towards me. Believe me that I +am very, very grateful to you!" + +I thought it well to leave him in this mood, and so I came away. +There is certainly something to ponder over in this man's state. +Several points seem to make what the American interviewer calls "a +story," if one could only get them in proper order. Here they are: + + Will not mention "drinking." + + Fears the thought of being burdened with the "soul" of anything. + + Has no dread of wanting "life" in the future. + + Despises the meaner forms of life altogether, though he dreads + being haunted by their souls. + + Logically all these things point one way! He has assurance of + some kind that he will acquire some higher life. + + He dreads the consequence, the burden of a soul. Then it is a + human life he looks to! + + And the assurance . . .? + +Merciful God! The Count has been to him, and there is some new scheme +of terror afoot! + + +Later.--I went after my round to Van Helsing and told him my +suspicion. He grew very grave, and after thinking the matter over for +a while asked me to take him to Renfield. I did so. As we came to +the door we heard the lunatic within singing gaily, as he used to do +in the time which now seems so long ago. + +When we entered we saw with amazement that he had spread out his sugar +as of old. The flies, lethargic with the autumn, were beginning to +buzz into the room. We tried to make him talk of the subject of our +previous conversation, but he would not attend. He went on with his +singing, just as though we had not been present. He had got a scrap +of paper and was folding it into a notebook. We had to come away as +ignorant as we went in. + +His is a curious case indeed. We must watch him tonight. + + + + + +LETTER, MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY TO LORD GODALMING. + +"1 October. + +"My Lord, + +"We are at all times only too happy to meet your wishes. We beg, +with regard to the desire of your Lordship, expressed by Mr. +Harker on your behalf, to supply the following information +concerning the sale and purchase of No. 347, Piccadilly. The +original vendors are the executors of the late Mr. Archibald +Winter-Suffield. The purchaser is a foreign nobleman, Count de +Ville, who effected the purchase himself paying the purchase +money in notes 'over the counter,' if your Lordship will pardon +us using so vulgar an expression. Beyond this we know nothing +whatever of him. + +"We are, my Lord, + +"Your Lordship's humble servants, + +"MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY." + + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +2 October.--I placed a man in the corridor last night, and told him to +make an accurate note of any sound he might hear from Renfield's room, +and gave him instructions that if there should be anything strange he +was to call me. After dinner, when we had all gathered round the fire +in the study, Mrs. Harker having gone to bed, we discussed the +attempts and discoveries of the day. Harker was the only one who had +any result, and we are in great hopes that his clue may be an +important one. + +Before going to bed I went round to the patient's room and looked in +through the observation trap. He was sleeping soundly, his heart rose +and fell with regular respiration. + +This morning the man on duty reported to me that a little after +midnight he was restless and kept saying his prayers somewhat loudly. +I asked him if that was all. He replied that it was all he heard. +There was something about his manner, so suspicious that I asked him +point blank if he had been asleep. He denied sleep, but admitted to +having "dozed" for a while. It is too bad that men cannot be trusted +unless they are watched. + +Today Harker is out following up his clue, and Art and Quincey are +looking after horses. Godalming thinks that it will be well to have +horses always in readiness, for when we get the information which we +seek there will be no time to lose. We must sterilize all the +imported earth between sunrise and sunset. We shall thus catch the +Count at his weakest, and without a refuge to fly to. Van Helsing is +off to the British Museum looking up some authorities on ancient +medicine. The old physicians took account of things which their +followers do not accept, and the Professor is searching for witch and +demon cures which may be useful to us later. + +I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity +in strait waistcoats. + +Later.--We have met again. We seem at last to be on the track, and +our work of tomorrow may be the beginning of the end. I wonder if +Renfield's quiet has anything to do with this. His moods have so +followed the doings of the Count, that the coming destruction of the +monster may be carried to him some subtle way. If we could only get +some hint as to what passed in his mind, between the time of my +argument with him today and his resumption of fly-catching, it might +afford us a valuable clue. He is now seemingly quiet for a spell . . . +Is he? That wild yell seemed to come from his room . . . + +The attendant came bursting into my room and told me that Renfield had +somehow met with some accident. He had heard him yell, and when he +went to him found him lying on his face on the floor, all covered with +blood. I must go at once . . . + + + + +CHAPTER 21 + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +3 October.--Let me put down with exactness all that happened, as well +as I can remember, since last I made an entry. Not a detail that I +can recall must be forgotten. In all calmness I must proceed. + +When I came to Renfield's room I found him lying on the floor on his +left side in a glittering pool of blood. When I went to move him, it +became at once apparent that he had received some terrible injuries. +There seemed none of the unity of purpose between the parts of the +body which marks even lethargic sanity. As the face was exposed I +could see that it was horribly bruised, as though it had been beaten +against the floor. Indeed it was from the face wounds that the pool +of blood originated. + +The attendant who was kneeling beside the body said to me as we turned +him over, "I think, sir, his back is broken. See, both his right arm +and leg and the whole side of his face are paralysed." How such a +thing could have happened puzzled the attendant beyond measure. He +seemed quite bewildered, and his brows were gathered in as he said, "I +can't understand the two things. He could mark his face like that by +beating his own head on the floor. I saw a young woman do it once at +the Eversfield Asylum before anyone could lay hands on her. And I +suppose he might have broken his neck by falling out of bed, if he got +in an awkward kink. But for the life of me I can't imagine how the +two things occurred. If his back was broke, he couldn't beat his +head, and if his face was like that before the fall out of bed, there +would be marks of it." + +I said to him, "Go to Dr. Van Helsing, and ask him to kindly come here +at once. I want him without an instant's delay." + +The man ran off, and within a few minutes the Professor, in his +dressing gown and slippers, appeared. When he saw Renfield on the +ground, he looked keenly at him a moment, and then turned to me. I +think he recognized my thought in my eyes, for he said very quietly, +manifestly for the ears of the attendant, "Ah, a sad accident! He +will need very careful watching, and much attention. I shall stay +with you myself, but I shall first dress myself. If you will remain I +shall in a few minutes join you." + +The patient was now breathing stertorously and it was easy to see that +he had suffered some terrible injury. + +Van Helsing returned with extraordinary celerity, bearing with him a +surgical case. He had evidently been thinking and had his mind made +up, for almost before he looked at the patient, he whispered to me, +"Send the attendant away. We must be alone with him when he becomes +conscious, after the operation." + +I said, "I think that will do now, Simmons. We have done all that we +can at present. You had better go your round, and Dr. Van Helsing +will operate. Let me know instantly if there be anything unusual +anywhere." + +The man withdrew, and we went into a strict examination of the +patient. The wounds of the face were superficial. The real injury +was a depressed fracture of the skull, extending right up through the +motor area. + +The Professor thought a moment and said, "We must reduce the pressure +and get back to normal conditions, as far as can be. The rapidity of +the suffusion shows the terrible nature of his injury. The whole +motor area seems affected. The suffusion of the brain will increase +quickly, so we must trephine at once or it may be too late." + +As he was speaking there was a soft tapping at the door. I went over +and opened it and found in the corridor without, Arthur and Quincey in +pajamas and slippers; the former spoke, "I heard your man call up Dr. +Van Helsing and tell him of an accident. So I woke Quincey or rather +called for him as he was not asleep. Things are moving too quickly +and too strangely for sound sleep for any of us these times. I've +been thinking that tomorrow night will not see things as they have +been. We'll have to look back, and forward a little more than we have +done. May we come in?" + +I nodded, and held the door open till they had entered, then I closed +it again. When Quincey saw the attitude and state of the patient, and +noted the horrible pool on the floor, he said softly, "My God! What +has happened to him? Poor, poor devil!" + +I told him briefly, and added that we expected he would recover +consciousness after the operation, for a short time, at all events. +He went at once and sat down on the edge of the bed, with Godalming +beside him. We all watched in patience. + +"We shall wait," said Van Helsing, "just long enough to fix the best +spot for trephining, so that we may most quickly and perfectly remove +the blood clot, for it is evident that the haemorrhage is increasing." + +The minutes during which we waited passed with fearful slowness. I +had a horrible sinking in my heart, and from Van Helsing's face I +gathered that he felt some fear or apprehension as to what was to +come. I dreaded the words Renfield might speak. I was positively +afraid to think. But the conviction of what was coming was on me, as +I have read of men who have heard the death watch. The poor man's +breathing came in uncertain gasps. Each instant he seemed as though +he would open his eyes and speak, but then would follow a prolonged +stertorous breath, and he would relapse into a more fixed +insensibility. Inured as I was to sick beds and death, this suspense +grew and grew upon me. I could almost hear the beating of my own +heart, and the blood surging through my temples sounded like blows +from a hammer. The silence finally became agonizing. I looked at my +companions, one after another, and saw from their flushed faces and +damp brows that they were enduring equal torture. There was a nervous +suspense over us all, as though overhead some dread bell would peal +out powerfully when we should least expect it. + +At last there came a time when it was evident that the patient was +sinking fast. He might die at any moment. I looked up at the +Professor and caught his eyes fixed on mine. His face was sternly set +as he spoke, "There is no time to lose. His words may be worth many +lives. I have been thinking so, as I stood here. It may be there is +a soul at stake! We shall operate just above the ear." + +Without another word he made the operation. For a few moments the +breathing continued to be stertorous. Then there came a breath so +prolonged that it seemed as though it would tear open his chest. +Suddenly his eyes opened, and became fixed in a wild, helpless stare. +This was continued for a few moments, then it was softened into a glad +surprise, and from his lips came a sigh of relief. He moved +convulsively, and as he did so, said, "I'll be quiet, Doctor. Tell +them to take off the strait waistcoat. I have had a terrible dream, +and it has left me so weak that I cannot move. What's wrong with my +face? It feels all swollen, and it smarts dreadfully." + +He tried to turn his head, but even with the effort his eyes seemed to +grow glassy again so I gently put it back. Then Van Helsing said in a +quiet grave tone, "Tell us your dream, Mr. Renfield." + +As he heard the voice his face brightened, through its mutilation, and +he said, "That is Dr. Van Helsing. How good it is of you to be here. +Give me some water, my lips are dry, and I shall try to tell you. I +dreamed . . ." + +He stopped and seemed fainting. I called quietly to Quincey, "The +brandy, it is in my study, quick!" He flew and returned with a glass, +the decanter of brandy and a carafe of water. We moistened the +parched lips, and the patient quickly revived. + +It seemed, however, that his poor injured brain had been working in +the interval, for when he was quite conscious, he looked at me +piercingly with an agonized confusion which I shall never forget, and +said, "I must not deceive myself. It was no dream, but all a grim +reality." Then his eyes roved round the room. As they caught sight +of the two figures sitting patiently on the edge of the bed he went +on, "If I were not sure already, I would know from them." + +For an instant his eyes closed, not with pain or sleep but +voluntarily, as though he were bringing all his faculties to bear. +When he opened them he said, hurriedly, and with more energy than he +had yet displayed, "Quick, Doctor, quick, I am dying! I feel that I +have but a few minutes, and then I must go back to death, or worse! +Wet my lips with brandy again. I have something that I must say +before I die. Or before my poor crushed brain dies anyhow. Thank +you! It was that night after you left me, when I implored you to let +me go away. I couldn't speak then, for I felt my tongue was tied. +But I was as sane then, except in that way, as I am now. I was in an +agony of despair for a long time after you left me, it seemed hours. +Then there came a sudden peace to me. My brain seemed to become cool +again, and I realized where I was. I heard the dogs bark behind our +house, but not where He was!" + +As he spoke, Van Helsing's eyes never blinked, but his hand came out +and met mine and gripped it hard. He did not, however, betray +himself. He nodded slightly and said, "Go on," in a low voice. + +Renfield proceeded. "He came up to the window in the mist, as I had +seen him often before, but he was solid then, not a ghost, and his +eyes were fierce like a man's when angry. He was laughing with his +red mouth, the sharp white teeth glinted in the moonlight when he +turned to look back over the belt of trees, to where the dogs were +barking. I wouldn't ask him to come in at first, though I knew he +wanted to, just as he had wanted all along. Then he began promising +me things, not in words but by doing them." + +He was interrupted by a word from the Professor, "How?" + +"By making them happen. Just as he used to send in the flies when the +sun was shining. Great big fat ones with steel and sapphire on their +wings. And big moths, in the night, with skull and cross-bones on +their backs." + +Van Helsing nodded to him as he whispered to me unconsciously, "The +Acherontia Atropos of the Sphinges, what you call the 'Death's-head +Moth'?" + +The patient went on without stopping, "Then he began to whisper. 'Rats, +rats, rats! Hundreds, thousands, millions of them, and every one a +life. And dogs to eat them, and cats too. All lives! All red blood, +with years of life in it, and not merely buzzing flies!' I laughed at +him, for I wanted to see what he could do. Then the dogs howled, away +beyond the dark trees in His house. He beckoned me to the window. I +got up and looked out, and He raised his hands, and seemed to call out +without using any words. A dark mass spread over the grass, coming on +like the shape of a flame of fire. And then He moved the mist to the +right and left, and I could see that there were thousands of rats with +their eyes blazing red, like His only smaller. He held up his hand, +and they all stopped, and I thought he seemed to be saying, 'All these +lives will I give you, ay, and many more and greater, through +countless ages, if you will fall down and worship me!' And then a red +cloud, like the colour of blood, seemed to close over my eyes, and +before I knew what I was doing, I found myself opening the sash and +saying to Him, 'Come in, Lord and Master!' The rats were all gone, but +He slid into the room through the sash, though it was only open an +inch wide, just as the Moon herself has often come in through the +tiniest crack and has stood before me in all her size and splendour." + +His voice was weaker, so I moistened his lips with the brandy again, +and he continued, but it seemed as though his memory had gone on +working in the interval for his story was further advanced. I was +about to call him back to the point, but Van Helsing whispered to me, +"Let him go on. Do not interrupt him. He cannot go back, and maybe +could not proceed at all if once he lost the thread of his thought." + +He proceeded, "All day I waited to hear from him, but he did not send +me anything, not even a blowfly, and when the moon got up I was pretty +angry with him. When he did slide in through the window, though it +was shut, and did not even knock, I got mad with him. He sneered at +me, and his white face looked out of the mist with his red eyes +gleaming, and he went on as though he owned the whole place, and I was +no one. He didn't even smell the same as he went by me. I couldn't +hold him. I thought that, somehow, Mrs. Harker had come into the +room." + +The two men sitting on the bed stood up and came over, standing behind +him so that he could not see them, but where they could hear better. +They were both silent, but the Professor started and quivered. His +face, however, grew grimmer and sterner still. Renfield went on +without noticing, "When Mrs. Harker came in to see me this afternoon +she wasn't the same. It was like tea after the teapot has been +watered." Here we all moved, but no one said a word. + +He went on, "I didn't know that she was here till she spoke, and she +didn't look the same. I don't care for the pale people. I like them +with lots of blood in them, and hers all seemed to have run out. I +didn't think of it at the time, but when she went away I began to +think, and it made me mad to know that He had been taking the life out +of her." I could feel that the rest quivered, as I did; but we +remained otherwise still. "So when He came tonight I was ready for +Him. I saw the mist stealing in, and I grabbed it tight. I had heard +that madmen have unnatural strength. And as I knew I was a madman, at +times anyhow, I resolved to use my power. Ay, and He felt it too, for +He had to come out of the mist to struggle with me. I held tight, and +I thought I was going to win, for I didn't mean Him to take any more +of her life, till I saw His eyes. They burned into me, and my +strength became like water. He slipped through it, and when I tried +to cling to Him, He raised me up and flung me down. There was a red +cloud before me, and a noise like thunder, and the mist seemed to +steal away under the door." + +His voice was becoming fainter and his breath more stertorous. Van +Helsing stood up instinctively. + +"We know the worst now," he said. "He is here, and we know his +purpose. It may not be too late. Let us be armed, the same as we +were the other night, but lose no time, there is not an instant to +spare." + +There was no need to put our fear, nay our conviction, into words, we +shared them in common. We all hurried and took from our rooms the +same things that we had when we entered the Count's house. The +Professor had his ready, and as we met in the corridor he pointed to +them significantly as he said, "They never leave me, and they shall +not till this unhappy business is over. Be wise also, my friends. It +is no common enemy that we deal with Alas! Alas! That dear Madam +Mina should suffer!" He stopped, his voice was breaking, and I do not +know if rage or terror predominated in my own heart. + +Outside the Harkers' door we paused. Art and Quincey held back, and +the latter said, "Should we disturb her?" + +"We must," said Van Helsing grimly. "If the door be locked, I shall +break it in." + +"May it not frighten her terribly? It is unusual to break into a +lady's room!" + +Van Helsing said solemnly, "You are always right. But this is life +and death. All chambers are alike to the doctor. And even were they +not they are all as one to me tonight. Friend John, when I turn the +handle, if the door does not open, do you put your shoulder down and +shove; and you too, my friends. Now!" + +He turned the handle as he spoke, but the door did not yield. We +threw ourselves against it. With a crash it burst open, and we almost +fell headlong into the room. The Professor did actually fall, and I +saw across him as he gathered himself up from hands and knees. What I +saw appalled me. I felt my hair rise like bristles on the back of my +neck, and my heart seemed to stand still. + +The moonlight was so bright that through the thick yellow blind the +room was light enough to see. On the bed beside the window lay +Jonathan Harker, his face flushed and breathing heavily as though in a +stupor. Kneeling on the near edge of the bed facing outwards was the +white-clad figure of his wife. By her side stood a tall, thin man, +clad in black. His face was turned from us, but the instant we saw we +all recognized the Count, in every way, even to the scar on his +forehead. With his left hand he held both Mrs. Harker's hands, +keeping them away with her arms at full tension. His right hand +gripped her by the back of the neck, forcing her face down on his +bosom. Her white nightdress was smeared with blood, and a thin stream +trickled down the man's bare chest which was shown by his torn-open +dress. The attitude of the two had a terrible resemblance to a child +forcing a kitten's nose into a saucer of milk to compel it to drink. +As we burst into the room, the Count turned his face, and the hellish +look that I had heard described seemed to leap into it. His eyes +flamed red with devilish passion. The great nostrils of the white +aquiline nose opened wide and quivered at the edge, and the white +sharp teeth, behind the full lips of the blood dripping mouth, clamped +together like those of a wild beast. With a wrench, which threw his +victim back upon the bed as though hurled from a height, he turned and +sprang at us. But by this time the Professor had gained his feet, and +was holding towards him the envelope which contained the Sacred Wafer. +The Count suddenly stopped, just as poor Lucy had done outside the +tomb, and cowered back. Further and further back he cowered, as we, +lifting our crucifixes, advanced. The moonlight suddenly failed, as a +great black cloud sailed across the sky. And when the gaslight sprang +up under Quincey's match, we saw nothing but a faint vapour. This, as +we looked, trailed under the door, which with the recoil from its +bursting open, had swung back to its old position. Van Helsing, Art, +and I moved forward to Mrs. Harker, who by this time had drawn her +breath and with it had given a scream so wild, so ear-piercing, so +despairing that it seems to me now that it will ring in my ears till +my dying day. For a few seconds she lay in her helpless attitude and +disarray. Her face was ghastly, with a pallor which was accentuated +by the blood which smeared her lips and cheeks and chin. From her +throat trickled a thin stream of blood. Her eyes were mad with +terror. Then she put before her face her poor crushed hands, which +bore on their whiteness the red mark of the Count's terrible grip, and +from behind them came a low desolate wail which made the terrible +scream seem only the quick expression of an endless grief. Van +Helsing stepped forward and drew the coverlet gently over her body, +whilst Art, after looking at her face for an instant despairingly, ran +out of the room. + +Van Helsing whispered to me, "Jonathan is in a stupor such as we know +the Vampire can produce. We can do nothing with poor Madam Mina for a +few moments till she recovers herself. I must wake him!" + +He dipped the end of a towel in cold water and with it began to flick +him on the face, his wife all the while holding her face between her +hands and sobbing in a way that was heart breaking to hear. I raised +the blind, and looked out of the window. There was much moonshine, +and as I looked I could see Quincey Morris run across the lawn and +hide himself in the shadow of a great yew tree. It puzzled me to +think why he was doing this. But at the instant I heard Harker's +quick exclamation as he woke to partial consciousness, and turned to +the bed. On his face, as there might well be, was a look of wild +amazement. He seemed dazed for a few seconds, and then full +consciousness seemed to burst upon him all at once, and he started up. + +His wife was aroused by the quick movement, and turned to him with her +arms stretched out, as though to embrace him. Instantly, however, she +drew them in again, and putting her elbows together, held her hands +before her face, and shuddered till the bed beneath her shook. + +"In God's name what does this mean?" Harker cried out. "Dr. Seward, +Dr. Van Helsing, what is it? What has happened? What is wrong? Mina, +dear what is it? What does that blood mean? My God, my God! Has it +come to this!" And, raising himself to his knees, he beat his hands +wildly together. "Good God help us! Help her! Oh, help her!" + +With a quick movement he jumped from bed, and began to pull on his +clothes, all the man in him awake at the need for instant exertion. +"What has happened? Tell me all about it!" he cried without pausing. +"Dr. Van Helsing, you love Mina, I know. Oh, do something to save her. +It cannot have gone too far yet. Guard her while I look for him!" + +His wife, through her terror and horror and distress, saw some sure +danger to him. Instantly forgetting her own grief, she seized hold of +him and cried out. + +"No! No! Jonathan, you must not leave me. I have suffered enough +tonight, God knows, without the dread of his harming you. You must +stay with me. Stay with these friends who will watch over you!" Her +expression became frantic as she spoke. And, he yielding to her, she +pulled him down sitting on the bedside, and clung to him fiercely. + +Van Helsing and I tried to calm them both. The Professor held up his +golden crucifix, and said with wonderful calmness, "Do not fear, my +dear. We are here, and whilst this is close to you no foul thing can +approach. You are safe for tonight, and we must be calm and take +counsel together." + +She shuddered and was silent, holding down her head on her husband's +breast. When she raised it, his white nightrobe was stained with +blood where her lips had touched, and where the thin open wound in the +neck had sent forth drops. The instant she saw it she drew back, with +a low wail, and whispered, amidst choking sobs. + +"Unclean, unclean! I must touch him or kiss him no more. Oh, that it +should be that it is I who am now his worst enemy, and whom he may +have most cause to fear." + +To this he spoke out resolutely, "Nonsense, Mina. It is a shame to me +to hear such a word. I would not hear it of you. And I shall not +hear it from you. May God judge me by my deserts, and punish me with +more bitter suffering than even this hour, if by any act or will of +mine anything ever come between us!" + +He put out his arms and folded her to his breast. And for a while she +lay there sobbing. He looked at us over her bowed head, with eyes +that blinked damply above his quivering nostrils. His mouth was set +as steel. + +After a while her sobs became less frequent and more faint, and then +he said to me, speaking with a studied calmness which I felt tried his +nervous power to the utmost. + +"And now, Dr. Seward, tell me all about it. Too well I know the broad +fact. Tell me all that has been." + +I told him exactly what had happened and he listened with seeming +impassiveness, but his nostrils twitched and his eyes blazed as I told +how the ruthless hands of the Count had held his wife in that terrible +and horrid position, with her mouth to the open wound in his breast. +It interested me, even at that moment, to see that whilst the face of +white set passion worked convulsively over the bowed head, the hands +tenderly and lovingly stroked the ruffled hair. Just as I had +finished, Quincey and Godalming knocked at the door. They entered in +obedience to our summons. Van Helsing looked at me questioningly. I +understood him to mean if we were to take advantage of their coming to +divert if possible the thoughts of the unhappy husband and wife from +each other and from themselves. So on nodding acquiescence to him he +asked them what they had seen or done. To which Lord Godalming +answered. + +"I could not see him anywhere in the passage, or in any of our rooms. +I looked in the study but, though he had been there, he had gone. He +had, however . . ." He stopped suddenly, looking at the poor drooping +figure on the bed. + +Van Helsing said gravely, "Go on, friend Arthur. We want here no more +concealments. Our hope now is in knowing all. Tell freely!" + +So Art went on, "He had been there, and though it could only have been +for a few seconds, he made rare hay of the place. All the manuscript +had been burned, and the blue flames were flickering amongst the white +ashes. The cylinders of your phonograph too were thrown on the fire, +and the wax had helped the flames." + +Here I interrupted. "Thank God there is the other copy in the safe!" + +His face lit for a moment, but fell again as he went on. "I ran +downstairs then, but could see no sign of him. I looked into +Renfield's room, but there was no trace there except . . ." Again he +paused. + +"Go on," said Harker hoarsely. So he bowed his head and moistening his +lips with his tongue, added, "except that the poor fellow is dead." + +Mrs. Harker raised her head, looking from one to the other of us she +said solemnly, "God's will be done!" + +I could not but feel that Art was keeping back something. But, as I +took it that it was with a purpose, I said nothing. + +Van Helsing turned to Morris and asked, "And you, friend Quincey, have +you any to tell?" + +"A little," he answered. "It may be much eventually, but at present I +can't say. I thought it well to know if possible where the Count +would go when he left the house. I did not see him, but I saw a bat +rise from Renfield's window, and flap westward. I expected to see him +in some shape go back to Carfax, but he evidently sought some other +lair. He will not be back tonight, for the sky is reddening in the +east, and the dawn is close. We must work tomorrow!" + +He said the latter words through his shut teeth. For a space of +perhaps a couple of minutes there was silence, and I could fancy that +I could hear the sound of our hearts beating. + +Then Van Helsing said, placing his hand tenderly on Mrs. Harker's +head, "And now, Madam Mina, poor dear, dear, Madam Mina, tell us +exactly what happened. God knows that I do not want that you be +pained, but it is need that we know all. For now more than ever has +all work to be done quick and sharp, and in deadly earnest. The day +is close to us that must end all, if it may be so, and now is the +chance that we may live and learn." + +The poor dear lady shivered, and I could see the tension of her nerves +as she clasped her husband closer to her and bent her head lower and +lower still on his breast. Then she raised her head proudly, and held +out one hand to Van Helsing who took it in his, and after stooping and +kissing it reverently, held it fast. The other hand was locked in +that of her husband, who held his other arm thrown round her +protectingly. After a pause in which she was evidently ordering her +thoughts, she began. + +"I took the sleeping draught which you had so kindly given me, but for +a long time it did not act. I seemed to become more wakeful, and +myriads of horrible fancies began to crowd in upon my mind. All of +them connected with death, and vampires, with blood, and pain, and +trouble." Her husband involuntarily groaned as she turned to him and +said lovingly, "Do not fret, dear. You must be brave and strong, and +help me through the horrible task. If you only knew what an effort it +is to me to tell of this fearful thing at all, you would understand +how much I need your help. Well, I saw I must try to help the +medicine to its work with my will, if it was to do me any good, so I +resolutely set myself to sleep. Sure enough sleep must soon have come +to me, for I remember no more. Jonathan coming in had not waked me, +for he lay by my side when next I remember. There was in the room the +same thin white mist that I had before noticed. But I forget now if +you know of this. You will find it in my diary which I shall show you +later. I felt the same vague terror which had come to me before and +the same sense of some presence. I turned to wake Jonathan, but found +that he slept so soundly that it seemed as if it was he who had taken +the sleeping draught, and not I. I tried, but I could not wake him. +This caused me a great fear, and I looked around terrified. Then +indeed, my heart sank within me. Beside the bed, as if he had stepped +out of the mist, or rather as if the mist had turned into his figure, +for it had entirely disappeared, stood a tall, thin man, all in +black. I knew him at once from the description of the others. The +waxen face, the high aquiline nose, on which the light fell in a thin +white line, the parted red lips, with the sharp white teeth showing +between, and the red eyes that I had seemed to see in the sunset on +the windows of St. Mary's Church at Whitby. I knew, too, the red scar +on his forehead where Jonathan had struck him. For an instant my +heart stood still, and I would have screamed out, only that I was +paralyzed. In the pause he spoke in a sort of keen, cutting whisper, +pointing as he spoke to Jonathan. + +"'Silence! If you make a sound I shall take him and dash his brains +out before your very eyes.' I was appalled and was too bewildered to +do or say anything. With a mocking smile, he placed one hand upon my +shoulder and, holding me tight, bared my throat with the other, saying +as he did so, 'First, a little refreshment to reward my exertions. +You may as well be quiet. It is not the first time, or the second, +that your veins have appeased my thirst!' I was bewildered, and +strangely enough, I did not want to hinder him. I suppose it is a +part of the horrible curse that such is, when his touch is on his +victim. And oh, my God, my God, pity me! He placed his reeking lips +upon my throat!" Her husband groaned again. She clasped his hand +harder, and looked at him pityingly, as if he were the injured one, +and went on. + +"I felt my strength fading away, and I was in a half swoon. How long +this horrible thing lasted I know not, but it seemed that a long time +must have passed before he took his foul, awful, sneering mouth away. +I saw it drip with the fresh blood!" The remembrance seemed for a while +to overpower her, and she drooped and would have sunk down but for her +husband's sustaining arm. With a great effort she recovered herself +and went on. + +"Then he spoke to me mockingly, 'And so you, like the others, would +play your brains against mine. You would help these men to hunt me +and frustrate me in my design! You know now, and they know in part +already, and will know in full before long, what it is to cross my +path. They should have kept their energies for use closer to home. +Whilst they played wits against me, against me who commanded nations, +and intrigued for them, and fought for them, hundreds of years before +they were born, I was countermining them. And you, their best beloved +one, are now to me, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my +kin, my bountiful wine-press for a while, and shall be later on my +companion and my helper. You shall be avenged in turn, for not one of +them but shall minister to your needs. But as yet you are to be +punished for what you have done. You have aided in thwarting me. Now +you shall come to my call. When my brain says "Come!" to you, you +shall cross land or sea to do my bidding. And to that end this!' + +"With that he pulled open his shirt, and with his long sharp nails +opened a vein in his breast. When the blood began to spurt out, he +took my hands in one of his, holding them tight, and with the other +seized my neck and pressed my mouth to the wound, so that I must +either suffocate or swallow some to the . . . Oh, my God! My God! +What have I done? What have I done to deserve such a fate, I who have +tried to walk in meekness and righteousness all my days. God pity +me! Look down on a poor soul in worse than mortal peril. And in +mercy pity those to whom she is dear!" Then she began to rub her lips +as though to cleanse them from pollution. + +As she was telling her terrible story, the eastern sky began to +quicken, and everything became more and more clear. Harker was still +and quiet; but over his face, as the awful narrative went on, came a +grey look which deepened and deepened in the morning light, till when +the first red streak of the coming dawn shot up, the flesh stood +darkly out against the whitening hair. + +We have arranged that one of us is to stay within call of the unhappy +pair till we can meet together and arrange about taking action. + +Of this I am sure. The sun rises today on no more miserable house in +all the great round of its daily course. + + + + +CHAPTER 22 + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +3 October.--As I must do something or go mad, I write this diary. It +is now six o'clock, and we are to meet in the study in half an hour +and take something to eat, for Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward are +agreed that if we do not eat we cannot work our best. Our best will +be, God knows, required today. I must keep writing at every chance, +for I dare not stop to think. All, big and little, must go down. +Perhaps at the end the little things may teach us most. The teaching, +big or little, could not have landed Mina or me anywhere worse than we +are today. However, we must trust and hope. Poor Mina told me just +now, with the tears running down her dear cheeks, that it is in +trouble and trial that our faith is tested. That we must keep on +trusting, and that God will aid us up to the end. The end! Oh my +God! What end? . . . To work! To work! + +When Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward had come back from seeing poor +Renfield, we went gravely into what was to be done. First, Dr. Seward +told us that when he and Dr. Van Helsing had gone down to the room +below they had found Renfield lying on the floor, all in a heap. His +face was all bruised and crushed in, and the bones of the neck were +broken. + +Dr. Seward asked the attendant who was on duty in the passage if he +had heard anything. He said that he had been sitting down, he +confessed to half dozing, when he heard loud voices in the room, and +then Renfield had called out loudly several times, "God! God! God!" +After that there was a sound of falling, and when he entered the room +he found him lying on the floor, face down, just as the doctors had +seen him. Van Helsing asked if he had heard "voices" or "a voice," +and he said he could not say. That at first it had seemed to him as +if there were two, but as there was no one in the room it could have +been only one. He could swear to it, if required, that the word "God" +was spoken by the patient. + +Dr. Seward said to us, when we were alone, that he did not wish to go +into the matter. The question of an inquest had to be considered, and +it would never do to put forward the truth, as no one would believe +it. As it was, he thought that on the attendant's evidence he could +give a certificate of death by misadventure in falling from bed. In +case the coroner should demand it, there would be a formal inquest, +necessarily to the same result. + +When the question began to be discussed as to what should be our next +step, the very first thing we decided was that Mina should be in full +confidence. That nothing of any sort, no matter how painful, should +be kept from her. She herself agreed as to its wisdom, and it was +pitiful to see her so brave and yet so sorrowful, and in such a depth +of despair. + +"There must be no concealment," she said. "Alas! We have had too +much already. And besides there is nothing in all the world that can +give me more pain than I have already endured, than I suffer now! +Whatever may happen, it must be of new hope or of new courage to me!" + +Van Helsing was looking at her fixedly as she spoke, and said, +suddenly but quietly, "But dear Madam Mina, are you not afraid. Not +for yourself, but for others from yourself, after what has happened?" + +Her face grew set in its lines, but her eyes shone with the devotion +of a martyr as she answered, "Ah no! For my mind is made up!" + +"To what?" he asked gently, whilst we were all very still, for each in +our own way we had a sort of vague idea of what she meant. + +Her answer came with direct simplicity, as though she was simply +stating a fact, "Because if I find in myself, and I shall watch keenly +for it, a sign of harm to any that I love, I shall die!" + +"You would not kill yourself?" he asked, hoarsely. + +"I would. If there were no friend who loved me, who would save me +such a pain, and so desperate an effort!" She looked at him meaningly +as she spoke. + +He was sitting down, but now he rose and came close to her and put his +hand on her head as he said solemnly. "My child, there is such an one +if it were for your good. For myself I could hold it in my account +with God to find such an euthanasia for you, even at this moment if it +were best. Nay, were it safe! But my child . . ." + +For a moment he seemed choked, and a great sob rose in his throat. He +gulped it down and went on, "There are here some who would stand +between you and death. You must not die. You must not die by any +hand, but least of all your own. Until the other, who has fouled your +sweet life, is true dead you must not die. For if he is still with +the quick Undead, your death would make you even as he is. No, you +must live! You must struggle and strive to live, though death would +seem a boon unspeakable. You must fight Death himself, though he come +to you in pain or in joy. By the day, or the night, in safety or in +peril! On your living soul I charge you that you do not die. Nay, +nor think of death, till this great evil be past." + +The poor dear grew white as death, and shook and shivered, as I have +seen a quicksand shake and shiver at the incoming of the tide. We +were all silent. We could do nothing. At length she grew more calm +and turning to him said sweetly, but oh so sorrowfully, as she held +out her hand, "I promise you, my dear friend, that if God will let me +live, I shall strive to do so. Till, if it may be in His good time, +this horror may have passed away from me." + +She was so good and brave that we all felt that our hearts were +strengthened to work and endure for her, and we began to discuss what +we were to do. I told her that she was to have all the papers in the +safe, and all the papers or diaries and phonographs we might hereafter +use, and was to keep the record as she had done before. She was +pleased with the prospect of anything to do, if "pleased" could be +used in connection with so grim an interest. + +As usual Van Helsing had thought ahead of everyone else, and was +prepared with an exact ordering of our work. + +"It is perhaps well," he said, "that at our meeting after our visit to +Carfax we decided not to do anything with the earth boxes that lay +there. Had we done so, the Count must have guessed our purpose, and +would doubtless have taken measures in advance to frustrate such an +effort with regard to the others. But now he does not know our +intentions. Nay, more, in all probability, he does not know that such +a power exists to us as can sterilize his lairs, so that he cannot use +them as of old. + +"We are now so much further advanced in our knowledge as to their +disposition that, when we have examined the house in Piccadilly, we may +track the very last of them. Today then, is ours, and in it rests our +hope. The sun that rose on our sorrow this morning guards us in its +course. Until it sets tonight, that monster must retain whatever form +he now has. He is confined within the limitations of his earthly +envelope. He cannot melt into thin air nor disappear through cracks +or chinks or crannies. If he go through a doorway, he must open the +door like a mortal. And so we have this day to hunt out all his lairs +and sterilize them. So we shall, if we have not yet catch him and +destroy him, drive him to bay in some place where the catching and the +destroying shall be, in time, sure." + +Here I started up for I could not contain myself at the thought that +the minutes and seconds so preciously laden with Mina's life and +happiness were flying from us, since whilst we talked action was +impossible. But Van Helsing held up his hand warningly. + +"Nay, friend Jonathan," he said, "in this, the quickest way home is +the longest way, so your proverb say. We shall all act and act with +desperate quick, when the time has come. But think, in all probable +the key of the situation is in that house in Piccadilly. The Count +may have many houses which he has bought. Of them he will have deeds +of purchase, keys and other things. He will have paper that he write +on. He will have his book of cheques. There are many belongings that +he must have somewhere. Why not in this place so central, so quiet, +where he come and go by the front or the back at all hours, when in +the very vast of the traffic there is none to notice. We shall go +there and search that house. And when we learn what it holds, then we +do what our friend Arthur call, in his phrases of hunt 'stop the +earths' and so we run down our old fox, so? Is it not?" + +"Then let us come at once," I cried, "we are wasting the precious, +precious time!" + +The Professor did not move, but simply said, "And how are we to get +into that house in Piccadilly?" + +"Any way!" I cried. "We shall break in if need be." + +"And your police? Where will they be, and what will they say?" + +I was staggered, but I knew that if he wished to delay he had a good +reason for it. So I said, as quietly as I could, "Don't wait more +than need be. You know, I am sure, what torture I am in." + +"Ah, my child, that I do. And indeed there is no wish of me to add to +your anguish. But just think, what can we do, until all the world be +at movement. Then will come our time. I have thought and thought, +and it seems to me that the simplest way is the best of all. Now we +wish to get into the house, but we have no key. Is it not so?" I +nodded. + +"Now suppose that you were, in truth, the owner of that house, and +could not still get in. And think there was to you no conscience of +the housebreaker, what would you do?" + +"I should get a respectable locksmith, and set him to work to pick the +lock for me." + +"And your police, they would interfere, would they not?" + +"Oh no! Not if they knew the man was properly employed." + +"Then," he looked at me as keenly as he spoke, "all that is in doubt +is the conscience of the employer, and the belief of your policemen as +to whether or not that employer has a good conscience or a bad one. +Your police must indeed be zealous men and clever, oh so clever, in +reading the heart, that they trouble themselves in such matter. No, +no, my friend Jonathan, you go take the lock off a hundred empty +houses in this your London, or of any city in the world, and if you do +it as such things are rightly done, and at the time such things are +rightly done, no one will interfere. I have read of a gentleman who +owned a so fine house in London, and when he went for months of summer +to Switzerland and lock up his house, some burglar come and broke +window at back and got in. Then he went and made open the shutters in +front and walk out and in through the door, before the very eyes of +the police. Then he have an auction in that house, and advertise it, +and put up big notice. And when the day come he sell off by a great +auctioneer all the goods of that other man who own them. Then he go +to a builder, and he sell him that house, making an agreement that he +pull it down and take all away within a certain time. And your police +and other authority help him all they can. And when that owner come +back from his holiday in Switzerland he find only an empty hole where +his house had been. This was all done en regle, and in our work we +shall be en regle too. We shall not go so early that the policemen +who have then little to think of, shall deem it strange. But we shall +go after ten o'clock, when there are many about, and such things would +be done were we indeed owners of the house." + +I could not but see how right he was and the terrible despair of +Mina's face became relaxed in thought. There was hope in such good +counsel. + +Van Helsing went on, "When once within that house we may find more +clues. At any rate some of us can remain there whilst the rest find +the other places where there be more earth boxes, at Bermondsey and +Mile End." + +Lord Godalming stood up. "I can be of some use here," he said. "I +shall wire to my people to have horses and carriages where they will +be most convenient." + +"Look here, old fellow," said Morris, "it is a capital idea to have +all ready in case we want to go horse backing, but don't you think +that one of your snappy carriages with its heraldic adornments in a +byway of Walworth or Mile End would attract too much attention for our +purpose? It seems to me that we ought to take cabs when we go south +or east. And even leave them somewhere near the neighbourhood we are +going to." + +"Friend Quincey is right!" said the Professor. "His head is what you +call in plane with the horizon. It is a difficult thing that we go to +do, and we do not want no peoples to watch us if so it may." + +Mina took a growing interest in everything and I was rejoiced to see +that the exigency of affairs was helping her to forget for a time the +terrible experience of the night. She was very, very pale, almost +ghastly, and so thin that her lips were drawn away, showing her teeth +in somewhat of prominence. I did not mention this last, lest it +should give her needless pain, but it made my blood run cold in my +veins to think of what had occurred with poor Lucy when the Count had +sucked her blood. As yet there was no sign of the teeth growing +sharper, but the time as yet was short, and there was time for fear. + +When we came to the discussion of the sequence of our efforts and of +the disposition of our forces, there were new sources of doubt. It +was finally agreed that before starting for Piccadilly we should +destroy the Count's lair close at hand. In case he should find it out +too soon, we should thus be still ahead of him in our work of +destruction. And his presence in his purely material shape, and at +his weakest, might give us some new clue. + +As to the disposal of forces, it was suggested by the Professor that, +after our visit to Carfax, we should all enter the house in +Piccadilly. That the two doctors and I should remain there, whilst +Lord Godalming and Quincey found the lairs at Walworth and Mile End +and destroyed them. It was possible, if not likely, the Professor +urged, that the Count might appear in Piccadilly during the day, and +that if so we might be able to cope with him then and there. At any +rate, we might be able to follow him in force. To this plan I +strenuously objected, and so far as my going was concerned, for I said +that I intended to stay and protect Mina. I thought that my mind was +made up on the subject, but Mina would not listen to my objection. She +said that there might be some law matter in which I could be useful. +That amongst the Count's papers might be some clue which I could +understand out of my experience in Transylvania. And that, as it was, +all the strength we could muster was required to cope with the Count's +extraordinary power. I had to give in, for Mina's resolution was +fixed. She said that it was the last hope for her that we should all +work together. + +"As for me," she said, "I have no fear. Things have been as bad as +they can be. And whatever may happen must have in it some element of +hope or comfort. Go, my husband! God can, if He wishes it, guard me +as well alone as with any one present." + +So I started up crying out, "Then in God's name let us come at once, +for we are losing time. The Count may come to Piccadilly earlier than +we think." + +"Not so!" said Van Helsing, holding up his hand. + +"But why?" I asked. + +"Do you forget," he said, with actually a smile, "that last night he +banqueted heavily, and will sleep late?" + +Did I forget! Shall I ever . . . can I ever! Can any of us ever +forget that terrible scene! Mina struggled hard to keep her brave +countenance, but the pain overmastered her and she put her hands +before her face, and shuddered whilst she moaned. Van Helsing had not +intended to recall her frightful experience. He had simply lost sight +of her and her part in the affair in his intellectual effort. + +When it struck him what he said, he was horrified at his +thoughtlessness and tried to comfort her. + +"Oh, Madam Mina," he said, "dear, dear, Madam Mina, alas! That I of +all who so reverence you should have said anything so forgetful. These +stupid old lips of mine and this stupid old head do not deserve so, +but you will forget it, will you not?" He bent low beside her as he +spoke. + +She took his hand, and looking at him through her tears, said +hoarsely, "No, I shall not forget, for it is well that I remember. +And with it I have so much in memory of you that is sweet, that I take +it all together. Now, you must all be going soon. Breakfast is +ready, and we must all eat that we may be strong." + +Breakfast was a strange meal to us all. We tried to be cheerful and +encourage each other, and Mina was the brightest and most cheerful of +us. When it was over, Van Helsing stood up and said, "Now, my dear +friends, we go forth to our terrible enterprise. Are we all armed, as +we were on that night when first we visited our enemy's lair. Armed +against ghostly as well as carnal attack?" + +We all assured him. + +"Then it is well. Now, Madam Mina, you are in any case quite safe +here until the sunset. And before then we shall return . . . if . . . +We shall return! But before we go let me see you armed against personal +attack. I have myself, since you came down, prepared your chamber by +the placing of things of which we know, so that He may not enter. Now +let me guard yourself. On your forehead I touch this piece of Sacred +Wafer in the name of the Father, the Son, and . . ." + +There was a fearful scream which almost froze our hearts to hear. As +he had placed the Wafer on Mina's forehead, it had seared it . . . had +burned into the flesh as though it had been a piece of white-hot metal. +My poor darling's brain had told her the significance of the fact as +quickly as her nerves received the pain of it, and the two so +overwhelmed her that her overwrought nature had its voice in that +dreadful scream. + +But the words to her thought came quickly. The echo of the scream had +not ceased to ring on the air when there came the reaction, and she +sank on her knees on the floor in an agony of abasement. Pulling her +beautiful hair over her face, as the leper of old his mantle, she +wailed out. + +"Unclean! Unclean! Even the Almighty shuns my polluted flesh! I +must bear this mark of shame upon my forehead until the Judgement +Day." + +They all paused. I had thrown myself beside her in an agony of +helpless grief, and putting my arms around held her tight. For a few +minutes our sorrowful hearts beat together, whilst the friends around +us turned away their eyes that ran tears silently. Then Van Helsing +turned and said gravely. So gravely that I could not help feeling +that he was in some way inspired, and was stating things outside +himself. + +"It may be that you may have to bear that mark till God himself see +fit, as He most surely shall, on the Judgement Day, to redress all +wrongs of the earth and of His children that He has placed thereon. +And oh, Madam Mina, my dear, my dear, may we who love you be there to +see, when that red scar, the sign of God's knowledge of what has been, +shall pass away, and leave your forehead as pure as the heart we know. +For so surely as we live, that scar shall pass away when God sees +right to lift the burden that is hard upon us. Till then we bear our +Cross, as His Son did in obedience to His Will. It may be that we are +chosen instruments of His good pleasure, and that we ascend to His +bidding as that other through stripes and shame. Through tears and +blood. Through doubts and fear, and all that makes the difference +between God and man." + +There was hope in his words, and comfort. And they made for +resignation. Mina and I both felt so, and simultaneously we each took +one of the old man's hands and bent over and kissed it. Then without +a word we all knelt down together, and all holding hands, swore to be +true to each other. We men pledged ourselves to raise the veil of +sorrow from the head of her whom, each in his own way, we loved. And +we prayed for help and guidance in the terrible task which lay before +us. It was then time to start. So I said farewell to Mina, a parting +which neither of us shall forget to our dying day, and we set out. + +To one thing I have made up my mind. If we find out that Mina must be +a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and +terrible land alone. I suppose it is thus that in old times one +vampire meant many. Just as their hideous bodies could only rest in +sacred earth, so the holiest love was the recruiting sergeant for +their ghastly ranks. + +We entered Carfax without trouble and found all things the same as on +the first occasion. It was hard to believe that amongst so prosaic +surroundings of neglect and dust and decay there was any ground for +such fear as already we knew. Had not our minds been made up, and had +there not been terrible memories to spur us on, we could hardly have +proceeded with our task. We found no papers, or any sign of use in +the house. And in the old chapel the great boxes looked just as we +had seen them last. + +Dr. Van Helsing said to us solemnly as we stood before him, "And now, +my friends, we have a duty here to do. We must sterilize this earth, +so sacred of holy memories, that he has brought from a far distant +land for such fell use. He has chosen this earth because it has been +holy. Thus we defeat him with his own weapon, for we make it more +holy still. It was sanctified to such use of man, now we sanctify it +to God." + +As he spoke he took from his bag a screwdriver and a wrench, and very +soon the top of one of the cases was thrown open. The earth smelled +musty and close, but we did not somehow seem to mind, for our +attention was concentrated on the Professor. Taking from his box a +piece of the Sacred Wafer he laid it reverently on the earth, and then +shutting down the lid began to screw it home, we aiding him as he +worked. + +One by one we treated in the same way each of the great boxes, and +left them as we had found them to all appearance. But in each was a +portion of the Host. When we closed the door behind us, the Professor +said solemnly, "So much is already done. It may be that with all the +others we can be so successful, then the sunset of this evening may +shine of Madam Mina's forehead all white as ivory and with no stain!" + +As we passed across the lawn on our way to the station to catch our +train we could see the front of the asylum. I looked eagerly, and in +the window of my own room saw Mina. I waved my hand to her, and +nodded to tell that our work there was successfully accomplished. She +nodded in reply to show that she understood. The last I saw, she was +waving her hand in farewell. It was with a heavy heart that we sought +the station and just caught the train, which was steaming in as we +reached the platform. I have written this in the train. + + +Piccadilly, 12:30 o'clock.--Just before we reached Fenchurch Street +Lord Godalming said to me, "Quincey and I will find a locksmith. You +had better not come with us in case there should be any difficulty. +For under the circumstances it wouldn't seem so bad for us to break +into an empty house. But you are a solicitor and the Incorporated Law +Society might tell you that you should have known better." + +I demurred as to my not sharing any danger even of odium, but he went +on, "Besides, it will attract less attention if there are not too many +of us. My title will make it all right with the locksmith, and with +any policeman that may come along. You had better go with Jack and +the Professor and stay in the Green Park. Somewhere in sight of the +house, and when you see the door opened and the smith has gone away, +do you all come across. We shall be on the lookout for you, and shall +let you in." + +"The advice is good!" said Van Helsing, so we said no more. Godalming +and Morris hurried off in a cab, we following in another. At the +corner of Arlington Street our contingent got out and strolled into +the Green Park. My heart beat as I saw the house on which so much of +our hope was centred, looming up grim and silent in its deserted +condition amongst its more lively and spruce-looking neighbours. We +sat down on a bench within good view, and began to smoke cigars so as +to attract as little attention as possible. The minutes seemed to +pass with leaden feet as we waited for the coming of the others. + +At length we saw a four-wheeler drive up. Out of it, in leisurely +fashion, got Lord Godalming and Morris. And down from the box +descended a thick-set working man with his rush-woven basket of tools. +Morris paid the cabman, who touched his hat and drove away. Together +the two ascended the steps, and Lord Godalming pointed out what he +wanted done. The workman took off his coat leisurely and hung it on +one of the spikes of the rail, saying something to a policeman who +just then sauntered along. The policeman nodded acquiescence, and the +man kneeling down placed his bag beside him. After searching through +it, he took out a selection of tools which he proceeded to lay beside +him in orderly fashion. Then he stood up, looked in the keyhole, blew +into it, and turning to his employers, made some remark. Lord +Godalming smiled, and the man lifted a good sized bunch of keys. +Selecting one of them, he began to probe the lock, as if feeling his +way with it. After fumbling about for a bit he tried a second, and +then a third. All at once the door opened under a slight push from +him, and he and the two others entered the hall. We sat still. My +own cigar burnt furiously, but Van Helsing's went cold altogether. We +waited patiently as we saw the workman come out and bring his bag. +Then he held the door partly open, steadying it with his knees, whilst +he fitted a key to the lock. This he finally handed to Lord +Godalming, who took out his purse and gave him something. The man +touched his hat, took his bag, put on his coat and departed. Not a +soul took the slightest notice of the whole transaction. + +When the man had fairly gone, we three crossed the street and knocked +at the door. It was immediately opened by Quincey Morris, beside whom +stood Lord Godalming lighting a cigar. + +"The place smells so vilely," said the latter as we came in. It did +indeed smell vilely. Like the old chapel at Carfax. And with our +previous experience it was plain to us that the Count had been using +the place pretty freely. We moved to explore the house, all keeping +together in case of attack, for we knew we had a strong and wily enemy +to deal with, and as yet we did not know whether the Count might not +be in the house. + +In the dining room, which lay at the back of the hall, we found eight +boxes of earth. Eight boxes only out of the nine which we sought! +Our work was not over, and would never be until we should have found +the missing box. + +First we opened the shutters of the window which looked out across a +narrow stone flagged yard at the blank face of a stable, pointed to +look like the front of a miniature house. There were no windows in +it, so we were not afraid of being overlooked. We did not lose any +time in examining the chests. With the tools which we had brought +with us we opened them, one by one, and treated them as we had treated +those others in the old chapel. It was evident to us that the Count +was not at present in the house, and we proceeded to search for any of +his effects. + +After a cursory glance at the rest of the rooms, from basement to +attic, we came to the conclusion that the dining room contained any +effects which might belong to the Count. And so we proceeded to +minutely examine them. They lay in a sort of orderly disorder on the +great dining room table. + +There were title deeds of the Piccadilly house in a great bundle, +deeds of the purchase of the houses at Mile End and Bermondsey, +notepaper, envelopes, and pens and ink. All were covered up in thin +wrapping paper to keep them from the dust. There were also a clothes +brush, a brush and comb, and a jug and basin. The latter containing +dirty water which was reddened as if with blood. Last of all was a +little heap of keys of all sorts and sizes, probably those belonging +to the other houses. + +When we had examined this last find, Lord Godalming and Quincey Morris +taking accurate notes of the various addresses of the houses in the +East and the South, took with them the keys in a great bunch, and set +out to destroy the boxes in these places. The rest of us are, with +what patience we can, waiting their return, or the coming of the +Count. + + + + +CHAPTER 23 + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +3 October.--The time seemed terribly long whilst we were waiting for +the coming of Godalming and Quincey Morris. The Professor tried to +keep our minds active by using them all the time. I could see his +beneficent purpose, by the side glances which he threw from time to +time at Harker. The poor fellow is overwhelmed in a misery that is +appalling to see. Last night he was a frank, happy-looking man, with +strong, youthful face, full of energy, and with dark brown hair. +Today he is a drawn, haggard old man, whose white hair matches well +with the hollow burning eyes and grief-written lines of his face. His +energy is still intact. In fact, he is like a living flame. This may +yet be his salvation, for if all go well, it will tide him over the +despairing period. He will then, in a kind of way, wake again to the +realities of life. Poor fellow, I thought my own trouble was bad +enough, but his . . . ! + +The Professor knows this well enough, and is doing his best to keep +his mind active. What he has been saying was, under the +circumstances, of absorbing interest. So well as I can remember, here +it is: + +"I have studied, over and over again since they came into my hands, +all the papers relating to this monster, and the more I have studied, +the greater seems the necessity to utterly stamp him out. All through +there are signs of his advance. Not only of his power, but of his +knowledge of it. As I learned from the researches of my friend +Arminius of Buda-Pesth, he was in life a most wonderful man. Soldier, +statesman, and alchemist--which latter was the highest development of +the science knowledge of his time. He had a mighty brain, a learning +beyond compare, and a heart that knew no fear and no remorse. He +dared even to attend the Scholomance, and there was no branch of +knowledge of his time that he did not essay. + +"Well, in him the brain powers survived the physical death. Though it +would seem that memory was not all complete. In some faculties of +mind he has been, and is, only a child. But he is growing, and some +things that were childish at the first are now of man's stature. He +is experimenting, and doing it well. And if it had not been that we +have crossed his path he would be yet, he may be yet if we fail, the +father or furtherer of a new order of beings, whose road must lead +through Death, not Life." + +Harker groaned and said, "And this is all arrayed against my darling! +But how is he experimenting? The knowledge may help us to defeat +him!" + +"He has all along, since his coming, been trying his power, slowly but +surely. That big child-brain of his is working. Well for us, it is +as yet a child-brain. For had he dared, at the first, to attempt +certain things he would long ago have been beyond our power. However, +he means to succeed, and a man who has centuries before him can afford +to wait and to go slow. Festina lente may well be his motto." + +"I fail to understand," said Harker wearily. "Oh, do be more plain to +me! Perhaps grief and trouble are dulling my brain." + +The Professor laid his hand tenderly on his shoulder as he spoke, "Ah, +my child, I will be plain. Do you not see how, of late, this monster +has been creeping into knowledge experimentally. How he has been +making use of the zoophagous patient to effect his entry into friend +John's home. For your Vampire, though in all afterwards he can come +when and how he will, must at the first make entry only when asked +thereto by an inmate. But these are not his most important +experiments. Do we not see how at the first all these so great boxes +were moved by others. He knew not then but that must be so. But all +the time that so great child-brain of his was growing, and he began to +consider whether he might not himself move the box. So he began to +help. And then, when he found that this be all right, he try to move +them all alone. And so he progress, and he scatter these graves of +him. And none but he know where they are hidden. + +"He may have intend to bury them deep in the ground. So that only he +use them in the night, or at such time as he can change his form, they +do him equal well, and none may know these are his hiding place! But, +my child, do not despair, this knowledge came to him just too late! +Already all of his lairs but one be sterilize as for him. And before +the sunset this shall be so. Then he have no place where he can move +and hide. I delayed this morning that so we might be sure. Is there +not more at stake for us than for him? Then why not be more careful +than him? By my clock it is one hour and already, if all be well, +friend Arthur and Quincey are on their way to us. Today is our day, +and we must go sure, if slow, and lose no chance. See! There are +five of us when those absent ones return." + +Whilst we were speaking we were startled by a knock at the hall door, +the double postman's knock of the telegraph boy. We all moved out to +the hall with one impulse, and Van Helsing, holding up his hand to us +to keep silence, stepped to the door and opened it. The boy handed in +a dispatch. The Professor closed the door again, and after looking at +the direction, opened it and read aloud. + +"Look out for D. He has just now, 12:45, come from Carfax +hurriedly and hastened towards the South. He seems to be +going the round and may want to see you: Mina." + +There was a pause, broken by Jonathan Harker's voice, "Now, God be +thanked, we shall soon meet!" + +Van Helsing turned to him quickly and said, "God will act in His own +way and time. Do not fear, and do not rejoice as yet. For what we +wish for at the moment may be our own undoings." + +"I care for nothing now," he answered hotly, "except to wipe out this +brute from the face of creation. I would sell my soul to do it!" + +"Oh, hush, hush, my child!" said Van Helsing. "God does not purchase +souls in this wise, and the Devil, though he may purchase, does not +keep faith. But God is merciful and just, and knows your pain and +your devotion to that dear Madam Mina. Think you, how her pain would +be doubled, did she but hear your wild words. Do not fear any of us, +we are all devoted to this cause, and today shall see the end. The +time is coming for action. Today this Vampire is limit to the powers +of man, and till sunset he may not change. It will take him time to +arrive here, see it is twenty minutes past one, and there are yet some +times before he can hither come, be he never so quick. What we must +hope for is that my Lord Arthur and Quincey arrive first." + +About half an hour after we had received Mrs. Harker's telegram, there +came a quiet, resolute knock at the hall door. It was just an +ordinary knock, such as is given hourly by thousands of gentlemen, but +it made the Professor's heart and mine beat loudly. We looked at each +other, and together moved out into the hall. We each held ready to +use our various armaments, the spiritual in the left hand, the mortal +in the right. Van Helsing pulled back the latch, and holding the door +half open, stood back, having both hands ready for action. The +gladness of our hearts must have shown upon our faces when on the +step, close to the door, we saw Lord Godalming and Quincey Morris. +They came quickly in and closed the door behind them, the former +saying, as they moved along the hall: + +"It is all right. We found both places. Six boxes in each and we +destroyed them all." + +"Destroyed?" asked the Professor. + +"For him!" We were silent for a minute, and then Quincey said, +"There's nothing to do but to wait here. If, however, he doesn't turn +up by five o'clock, we must start off. For it won't do to leave Mrs. +Harker alone after sunset." + +"He will be here before long now," said Van Helsing, who had been +consulting his pocketbook. "Nota bene, in Madam's telegram he went +south from Carfax. That means he went to cross the river, and he +could only do so at slack of tide, which should be something before +one o'clock. That he went south has a meaning for us. He is as yet +only suspicious, and he went from Carfax first to the place where he +would suspect interference least. You must have been at Bermondsey +only a short time before him. That he is not here already shows that +he went to Mile End next. This took him some time, for he would then +have to be carried over the river in some way. Believe me, my +friends, we shall not have long to wait now. We should have ready +some plan of attack, so that we may throw away no chance. Hush, there +is no time now. Have all your arms! Be ready!" He held up a warning +hand as he spoke, for we all could hear a key softly inserted in the +lock of the hall door. + +I could not but admire, even at such a moment, the way in which a +dominant spirit asserted itself. In all our hunting parties and +adventures in different parts of the world, Quincey Morris had always +been the one to arrange the plan of action, and Arthur and I had been +accustomed to obey him implicitly. Now, the old habit seemed to be +renewed instinctively. With a swift glance around the room, he at +once laid out our plan of attack, and without speaking a word, with a +gesture, placed us each in position. Van Helsing, Harker, and I were +just behind the door, so that when it was opened the Professor could +guard it whilst we two stepped between the incomer and the door. +Godalming behind and Quincey in front stood just out of sight ready to +move in front of the window. We waited in a suspense that made the +seconds pass with nightmare slowness. The slow, careful steps came +along the hall. The Count was evidently prepared for some surprise, +at least he feared it. + +Suddenly with a single bound he leaped into the room. Winning a way +past us before any of us could raise a hand to stay him. There was +something so pantherlike in the movement, something so unhuman, that +it seemed to sober us all from the shock of his coming. The first to +act was Harker, who with a quick movement, threw himself before the +door leading into the room in the front of the house. As the Count +saw us, a horrible sort of snarl passed over his face, showing the +eyeteeth long and pointed. But the evil smile as quickly passed into +a cold stare of lion-like disdain. His expression again changed as, +with a single impulse, we all advanced upon him. It was a pity that +we had not some better organized plan of attack, for even at the +moment I wondered what we were to do. I did not myself know whether +our lethal weapons would avail us anything. + +Harker evidently meant to try the matter, for he had ready his great +Kukri knife and made a fierce and sudden cut at him. The blow was a +powerful one; only the diabolical quickness of the Count's leap back +saved him. A second less and the trenchant blade had shorn through +his heart. As it was, the point just cut the cloth of his coat, +making a wide gap whence a bundle of bank notes and a stream +of gold fell out. The expression of the Count's face was so hellish, +that for a moment I feared for Harker, though I saw him throw the +terrible knife aloft again for another stroke. Instinctively I moved +forward with a protective impulse, holding the Crucifix and Wafer in +my left hand. I felt a mighty power fly along my arm, and it was +without surprise that I saw the monster cower back before a similar +movement made spontaneously by each one of us. It would be impossible +to describe the expression of hate and baffled malignity, of anger and +hellish rage, which came over the Count's face. His waxen hue became +greenish-yellow by the contrast of his burning eyes, and the red scar +on the forehead showed on the pallid skin like a palpitating wound. +The next instant, with a sinuous dive he swept under Harker's arm, ere +his blow could fall, and grasping a handful of the money from the +floor, dashed across the room, threw himself at the window. Amid the +crash and glitter of the falling glass, he tumbled into the flagged +area below. Through the sound of the shivering glass I could hear the +"ting" of the gold, as some of the sovereigns fell on the flagging. + +We ran over and saw him spring unhurt from the ground. He, rushing up +the steps, crossed the flagged yard, and pushed open the stable door. +There he turned and spoke to us. + +"You think to baffle me, you with your pale faces all in a row, like +sheep in a butcher's. You shall be sorry yet, each one of you! You +think you have left me without a place to rest, but I have more. My +revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my +side. Your girls that you all love are mine already. And through +them you and others shall yet be mine, my creatures, to do my bidding +and to be my jackals when I want to feed. Bah!" + +With a contemptuous sneer, he passed quickly through the door, and we +heard the rusty bolt creak as he fastened it behind him. A door +beyond opened and shut. The first of us to speak was the Professor. +Realizing the difficulty of following him through the stable, we moved +toward the hall. + +"We have learnt something . . . much! Notwithstanding his brave words, +he fears us. He fears time, he fears want! For if not, why he hurry +so? His very tone betray him, or my ears deceive. Why take that +money? You follow quick. You are hunters of the wild beast, and +understand it so. For me, I make sure that nothing here may be of use +to him, if so that he returns." + +As he spoke he put the money remaining in his pocket, took the title +deeds in the bundle as Harker had left them, and swept the remaining +things into the open fireplace, where he set fire to them with a +match. + +Godalming and Morris had rushed out into the yard, and Harker had +lowered himself from the window to follow the Count. He had, however, +bolted the stable door, and by the time they had forced it open there +was no sign of him. Van Helsing and I tried to make inquiry at the +back of the house. But the mews was deserted and no one had seen him +depart. + +It was now late in the afternoon, and sunset was not far off. We had +to recognize that our game was up. With heavy hearts we agreed with +the Professor when he said, "Let us go back to Madam Mina. Poor, poor +dear Madam Mina. All we can do just now is done, and we can there, at +least, protect her. But we need not despair. There is but one more +earth box, and we must try to find it. When that is done all may yet +be well." + +I could see that he spoke as bravely as he could to comfort Harker. +The poor fellow was quite broken down, now and again he gave a low +groan which he could not suppress. He was thinking of his wife. + +With sad hearts we came back to my house, where we found Mrs. Harker +waiting us, with an appearance of cheerfulness which did honour to her +bravery and unselfishness. When she saw our faces, her own became as +pale as death. For a second or two her eyes were closed as if she +were in secret prayer. + +And then she said cheerfully, "I can never thank you all enough. Oh, +my poor darling!" + +As she spoke, she took her husband's grey head in her hands and kissed +it. + +"Lay your poor head here and rest it. All will yet be well, dear! God +will protect us if He so will it in His good intent." The poor fellow +groaned. There was no place for words in his sublime misery. + +We had a sort of perfunctory supper together, and I think it cheered +us all up somewhat. It was, perhaps, the mere animal heat of food to +hungry people, for none of us had eaten anything since breakfast, or +the sense of companionship may have helped us, but anyhow we were all +less miserable, and saw the morrow as not altogether without hope. + +True to our promise, we told Mrs. Harker everything which had passed. +And although she grew snowy white at times when danger had seemed to +threaten her husband, and red at others when his devotion to her was +manifested, she listened bravely and with calmness. When we came to +the part where Harker had rushed at the Count so recklessly, she clung +to her husband's arm, and held it tight as though her clinging could +protect him from any harm that might come. She said nothing, however, +till the narration was all done, and matters had been brought up to +the present time. + +Then without letting go her husband's hand she stood up amongst us and +spoke. Oh, that I could give any idea of the scene. Of that sweet, +sweet, good, good woman in all the radiant beauty of her youth and +animation, with the red scar on her forehead, of which she was +conscious, and which we saw with grinding of our teeth, remembering +whence and how it came. Her loving kindness against our grim hate. +Her tender faith against all our fears and doubting. And we, knowing +that so far as symbols went, she with all her goodness and purity and +faith, was outcast from God. + +"Jonathan," she said, and the word sounded like music on her lips it +was so full of love and tenderness, "Jonathan dear, and you all my +true, true friends, I want you to bear something in mind through all +this dreadful time. I know that you must fight. That you must +destroy even as you destroyed the false Lucy so that the true Lucy +might live hereafter. But it is not a work of hate. That poor soul +who has wrought all this misery is the saddest case of all. Just +think what will be his joy when he, too, is destroyed in his worser +part that his better part may have spiritual immortality. You must be +pitiful to him, too, though it may not hold your hands from his +destruction." + +As she spoke I could see her husband's face darken and draw together, +as though the passion in him were shriveling his being to its core. +Instinctively the clasp on his wife's hand grew closer, till his +knuckles looked white. She did not flinch from the pain which I knew +she must have suffered, but looked at him with eyes that were more +appealing than ever. + +As she stopped speaking he leaped to his feet, almost tearing his hand +from hers as he spoke. + +"May God give him into my hand just for long enough to destroy that +earthly life of him which we are aiming at. If beyond it I could send +his soul forever and ever to burning hell I would do it!" + +"Oh, hush! Oh, hush in the name of the good God. Don't say such +things, Jonathan, my husband, or you will crush me with fear and +horror. Just think, my dear . . . I have been thinking all this long, +long day of it . . . that . . . perhaps . . . some day . . . I, too, may +need such pity, and that some other like you, and with equal cause for +anger, may deny it to me! Oh, my husband! My husband, indeed I would +have spared you such a thought had there been another way. But I pray +that God may not have treasured your wild words, except as the +heart-broken wail of a very loving and sorely stricken man. Oh, God, +let these poor white hairs go in evidence of what he has suffered, who +all his life has done no wrong, and on whom so many sorrows have +come." + +We men were all in tears now. There was no resisting them, and we +wept openly. She wept, too, to see that her sweeter counsels had +prevailed. Her husband flung himself on his knees beside her, and +putting his arms round her, hid his face in the folds of her dress. +Van Helsing beckoned to us and we stole out of the room, leaving the +two loving hearts alone with their God. + +Before they retired the Professor fixed up the room against any coming +of the Vampire, and assured Mrs. Harker that she might rest in peace. +She tried to school herself to the belief, and manifestly for her +husband's sake, tried to seem content. It was a brave struggle, and +was, I think and believe, not without its reward. Van Helsing had +placed at hand a bell which either of them was to sound in case of any +emergency. When they had retired, Quincey, Godalming, and I arranged +that we should sit up, dividing the night between us, and watch over +the safety of the poor stricken lady. The first watch falls to +Quincey, so the rest of us shall be off to bed as soon as we can. + +Godalming has already turned in, for his is the second watch. Now +that my work is done I, too, shall go to bed. + + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +3-4 October, close to midnight.--I thought yesterday would never end. +There was over me a yearning for sleep, in some sort of blind belief +that to wake would be to find things changed, and that any change must +now be for the better. Before we parted, we discussed what our next +step was to be, but we could arrive at no result. All we knew was +that one earth box remained, and that the Count alone knew where it +was. If he chooses to lie hidden, he may baffle us for years. And in +the meantime, the thought is too horrible, I dare not think of it even +now. This I know, that if ever there was a woman who was all +perfection, that one is my poor wronged darling. I loved her a +thousand times more for her sweet pity of last night, a pity that made +my own hate of the monster seem despicable. Surely God will not +permit the world to be the poorer by the loss of such a creature. This +is hope to me. We are all drifting reefwards now, and faith is our +only anchor. Thank God! Mina is sleeping, and sleeping without +dreams. I fear what her dreams might be like, with such terrible +memories to ground them in. She has not been so calm, within my +seeing, since the sunset. Then, for a while, there came over her face +a repose which was like spring after the blasts of March. I thought +at the time that it was the softness of the red sunset on her face, +but somehow now I think it has a deeper meaning. I am not sleepy +myself, though I am weary . . . weary to death. However, I must try +to sleep. For there is tomorrow to think of, and there is no rest for +me until . . . + + +Later--I must have fallen asleep, for I was awakened by Mina, who was +sitting up in bed, with a startled look on her face. I could see +easily, for we did not leave the room in darkness. She had placed a +warning hand over my mouth, and now she whispered in my ear, "Hush! +There is someone in the corridor!" I got up softly, and crossing the +room, gently opened the door. + +Just outside, stretched on a mattress, lay Mr. Morris, wide awake. He +raised a warning hand for silence as he whispered to me, "Hush! Go +back to bed. It is all right. One of us will be here all night. We +don't mean to take any chances!" + +His look and gesture forbade discussion, so I came back and told Mina. +She sighed and positively a shadow of a smile stole over her poor, +pale face as she put her arms round me and said softly, "Oh, thank God +for good brave men!" With a sigh she sank back again to sleep. I +write this now as I am not sleepy, though I must try again. + + +4 October, morning.--Once again during the night I was wakened by +Mina. This time we had all had a good sleep, for the grey of the +coming dawn was making the windows into sharp oblongs, and the gas +flame was like a speck rather than a disc of light. + +She said to me hurriedly, "Go, call the Professor. I want to see him +at once." + +"Why?" I asked. + +"I have an idea. I suppose it must have come in the night, and +matured without my knowing it. He must hypnotize me before the dawn, +and then I shall be able to speak. Go quick, dearest, the time is +getting close." + +I went to the door. Dr. Seward was resting on the mattress, and +seeing me, he sprang to his feet. + +"Is anything wrong?" he asked, in alarm. + +"No," I replied. "But Mina wants to see Dr. Van Helsing at once." + +"I will go," he said, and hurried into the Professor's room. + +Two or three minutes later Van Helsing was in the room in his dressing +gown, and Mr. Morris and Lord Godalming were with Dr. Seward at the +door asking questions. When the Professor saw Mina a smile, a +positive smile ousted the anxiety of his face. + +He rubbed his hands as he said, "Oh, my dear Madam Mina, this is +indeed a change. See! Friend Jonathan, we have got our dear Madam +Mina, as of old, back to us today!" Then turning to her, he said +cheerfully, "And what am I to do for you? For at this hour you do not +want me for nothing." + +"I want you to hypnotize me!" she said. "Do it before the dawn, for I +feel that then I can speak, and speak freely. Be quick, for the time +is short!" Without a word he motioned her to sit up in bed. + +Looking fixedly at her, he commenced to make passes in front of her, +from over the top of her head downward, with each hand in turn. Mina +gazed at him fixedly for a few minutes, during which my own heart beat +like a trip hammer, for I felt that some crisis was at hand. +Gradually her eyes closed, and she sat, stock still. Only by the +gentle heaving of her bosom could one know that she was alive. The +Professor made a few more passes and then stopped, and I could see +that his forehead was covered with great beads of perspiration. Mina +opened her eyes, but she did not seem the same woman. There was a +far-away look in her eyes, and her voice had a sad dreaminess which +was new to me. Raising his hand to impose silence, the Professor +motioned to me to bring the others in. They came on tiptoe, closing +the door behind them, and stood at the foot of the bed, looking on. +Mina appeared not to see them. The stillness was broken by Van +Helsing's voice speaking in a low level tone which would not break the +current of her thoughts. + +"Where are you?" The answer came in a neutral way. + +"I do not know. Sleep has no place it can call its own." For several +minutes there was silence. Mina sat rigid, and the Professor stood +staring at her fixedly. + +The rest of us hardly dared to breathe. The room was growing lighter. +Without taking his eyes from Mina's face, Dr. Van Helsing motioned me +to pull up the blind. I did so, and the day seemed just upon us. A +red streak shot up, and a rosy light seemed to diffuse itself through +the room. On the instant the Professor spoke again. + +"Where are you now?" + +The answer came dreamily, but with intention. It were as though she +were interpreting something. I have heard her use the same tone when +reading her shorthand notes. + +"I do not know. It is all strange to me!" + +"What do you see?" + +"I can see nothing. It is all dark." + +"What do you hear?" I could detect the strain in the Professor's +patient voice. + +"The lapping of water. It is gurgling by, and little waves leap. I +can hear them on the outside." + +"Then you are on a ship?'" + +We all looked at each other, trying to glean something each from the +other. We were afraid to think. + +The answer came quick, "Oh, yes!" + +"What else do you hear?" + +"The sound of men stamping overhead as they run about. There is the +creaking of a chain, and the loud tinkle as the check of the capstan +falls into the ratchet." + +"What are you doing?" + +"I am still, oh so still. It is like death!" The voice faded away +into a deep breath as of one sleeping, and the open eyes closed again. + +By this time the sun had risen, and we were all in the full light of +day. Dr. Van Helsing placed his hands on Mina's shoulders, and laid +her head down softly on her pillow. She lay like a sleeping child for +a few moments, and then, with a long sigh, awoke and stared in wonder +to see us all around her. + +"Have I been talking in my sleep?" was all she said. She seemed, +however, to know the situation without telling, though she was eager +to know what she had told. The Professor repeated the conversation, +and she said, "Then there is not a moment to lose. It may not be yet +too late!" + +Mr. Morris and Lord Godalming started for the door but the Professor's +calm voice called them back. + +"Stay, my friends. That ship, wherever it was, was weighing anchor at +the moment in your so great Port of London. Which of them is it that +you seek? God be thanked that we have once again a clue, though +whither it may lead us we know not. We have been blind somewhat. +Blind after the manner of men, since we can look back we see what we +might have seen looking forward if we had been able to see what we +might have seen! Alas, but that sentence is a puddle, is it not? We +can know now what was in the Count's mind, when he seize that money, +though Jonathan's so fierce knife put him in the danger that even he +dread. He meant escape. Hear me, ESCAPE! He saw that with but one +earth box left, and a pack of men following like dogs after a fox, +this London was no place for him. He have take his last earth box on +board a ship, and he leave the land. He think to escape, but no! We +follow him. Tally Ho! As friend Arthur would say when he put on his +red frock! Our old fox is wily. Oh! So wily, and we must follow +with wile. I, too, am wily and I think his mind in a little while. +In meantime we may rest and in peace, for there are between us which +he do not want to pass, and which he could not if he would. Unless +the ship were to touch the land, and then only at full or slack tide. +See, and the sun is just rose, and all day to sunset is us. Let us +take bath, and dress, and have breakfast which we all need, and which +we can eat comfortably since he be not in the same land with us." + +Mina looked at him appealingly as she asked, "But why need we seek him +further, when he is gone away from us?" + +He took her hand and patted it as he replied, "Ask me nothing as yet. +When we have breakfast, then I answer all questions." He would say no +more, and we separated to dress. + +After breakfast Mina repeated her question. He looked at her gravely +for a minute and then said sorrowfully, "Because my dear, dear Madam +Mina, now more than ever must we find him even if we have to follow +him to the jaws of Hell!" + +She grew paler as she asked faintly, "Why?" + +"Because," he answered solemnly, "he can live for centuries, and you +are but mortal woman. Time is now to be dreaded, since once he put +that mark upon your throat." + +I was just in time to catch her as she fell forward in a faint. + + + + +CHAPTER 24 + + +DR. SEWARD'S PHONOGRAPH DIARY + +SPOKEN BY VAN HELSING + +This to Jonathan Harker. + +You are to stay with your dear Madam Mina. We shall go to make our +search, if I can call it so, for it is not search but knowing, and we +seek confirmation only. But do you stay and take care of her today. +This is your best and most holiest office. This day nothing can find +him here. + +Let me tell you that so you will know what we four know already, for I +have tell them. He, our enemy, have gone away. He have gone back to +his Castle in Transylvania. I know it so well, as if a great hand of +fire wrote it on the wall. He have prepare for this in some way, and +that last earth box was ready to ship somewheres. For this he took +the money. For this he hurry at the last, lest we catch him before +the sun go down. It was his last hope, save that he might hide in the +tomb that he think poor Miss Lucy, being as he thought like him, keep +open to him. But there was not of time. When that fail he make +straight for his last resource, his last earth-work I might say did I +wish double entente. He is clever, oh so clever! He know that his +game here was finish. And so he decide he go back home. He find ship +going by the route he came, and he go in it. + +We go off now to find what ship, and whither bound. When we have +discover that, we come back and tell you all. Then we will comfort +you and poor Madam Mina with new hope. For it will be hope when you +think it over, that all is not lost. This very creature that we +pursue, he take hundreds of years to get so far as London. And yet in +one day, when we know of the disposal of him we drive him out. He is +finite, though he is powerful to do much harm and suffers not as we +do. But we are strong, each in our purpose, and we are all more +strong together. Take heart afresh, dear husband of Madam Mina. This +battle is but begun and in the end we shall win. So sure as that God +sits on high to watch over His children. Therefore be of much comfort +till we return. + +VAN HELSING. + + + + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +4 October.--When I read to Mina, Van Helsing's message in the +phonograph, the poor girl brightened up considerably. Already the +certainty that the Count is out of the country has given her comfort. +And comfort is strength to her. For my own part, now that his +horrible danger is not face to face with us, it seems almost +impossible to believe in it. Even my own terrible experiences in +Castle Dracula seem like a long forgotten dream. Here in the crisp +autumn air in the bright sunlight. + +Alas! How can I disbelieve! In the midst of my thought my eye fell +on the red scar on my poor darling's white forehead. Whilst that +lasts, there can be no disbelief. Mina and I fear to be idle, so we +have been over all the diaries again and again. Somehow, although the +reality seem greater each time, the pain and the fear seem less. There +is something of a guiding purpose manifest throughout, which is +comforting. Mina says that perhaps we are the instruments of ultimate +good. It may be! I shall try to think as she does. We have never +spoken to each other yet of the future. It is better to wait till we +see the Professor and the others after their investigations. + +The day is running by more quickly than I ever thought a day could run +for me again. It is now three o'clock. + + + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +5 October, 5 P.M.--Our meeting for report. Present: Professor Van +Helsing, Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, Mr. Quincey Morris, Jonathan +Harker, Mina Harker. + +Dr. Van Helsing described what steps were taken during the day to +discover on what boat and whither bound Count Dracula made his escape. + +"As I knew that he wanted to get back to Transylvania, I felt sure +that he must go by the Danube mouth, or by somewhere in the Black Sea, +since by that way he come. It was a dreary blank that was before us. +Omme ignotum pro magnifico, and so with heavy hearts we start to find +what ships leave for the Black Sea last night. He was in sailing +ship, since Madam Mina tell of sails being set. These not so +important as to go in your list of the shipping in the Times, and so +we go, by suggestion of Lord Godalming, to your Lloyd's, where are +note of all ships that sail, however so small. There we find that +only one Black Sea bound ship go out with the tide. She is the +Czarina Catherine, and she sail from Doolittle's Wharf for Varna, and +thence to other ports and up the Danube. 'So!' said I, 'this is the +ship whereon is the Count.' So off we go to Doolittle's Wharf, and +there we find a man in an office. From him we inquire of the goings +of the Czarina Catherine. He swear much, and he red face and loud of +voice, but he good fellow all the same. And when Quincey give him +something from his pocket which crackle as he roll it up, and put it +in a so small bag which he have hid deep in his clothing, he still +better fellow and humble servant to us. He come with us, and ask many +men who are rough and hot. These be better fellows too when they have +been no more thirsty. They say much of blood and bloom, and of others +which I comprehend not, though I guess what they mean. But +nevertheless they tell us all things which we want to know. + +"They make known to us among them, how last afternoon at about five +o'clock comes a man so hurry. A tall man, thin and pale, with high +nose and teeth so white, and eyes that seem to be burning. That he be +all in black, except that he have a hat of straw which suit not him or +the time. That he scatter his money in making quick inquiry as to +what ship sails for the Black Sea and for where. Some took him to the +office and then to the ship, where he will not go aboard but halt at +shore end of gangplank, and ask that the captain come to him. The +captain come, when told that he will be pay well, and though he swear +much at the first he agree to term. Then the thin man go and some one +tell him where horse and cart can be hired. He go there and soon he +come again, himself driving cart on which a great box. This he +himself lift down, though it take several to put it on truck for the +ship. He give much talk to captain as to how and where his box is to +be place. But the captain like it not and swear at him in many +tongues, and tell him that if he like he can come and see where it +shall be. But he say 'no,' that he come not yet, for that he have +much to do. Whereupon the captain tell him that he had better be +quick, with blood, for that his ship will leave the place, of blood, +before the turn of the tide, with blood. Then the thin man smile and +say that of course he must go when he think fit, but he will be +surprise if he go quite so soon. The captain swear again, polyglot, +and the thin man make him bow, and thank him, and say that he will so +far intrude on his kindness as to come aboard before the sailing. +Final the captain, more red than ever, and in more tongues, tell him +that he doesn't want no Frenchmen, with bloom upon them and also with +blood, in his ship, with blood on her also. And so, after asking +where he might purchase ship forms, he departed. + +"No one knew where he went 'or bloomin' well cared' as they said, for +they had something else to think of, well with blood again. For it +soon became apparent to all that the Czarina Catherine would not sail +as was expected. A thin mist began to creep up from the river, and it +grew, and grew. Till soon a dense fog enveloped the ship and all +around her. The captain swore polyglot, very polyglot, polyglot with +bloom and blood, but he could do nothing. The water rose and rose, +and he began to fear that he would lose the tide altogether. He was +in no friendly mood, when just at full tide, the thin man came up the +gangplank again and asked to see where his box had been stowed. Then +the captain replied that he wished that he and his box, old and with +much bloom and blood, were in hell. But the thin man did not be +offend, and went down with the mate and saw where it was place, and +came up and stood awhile on deck in fog. He must have come off by +himself, for none notice him. Indeed they thought not of him, for +soon the fog begin to melt away, and all was clear again. My friends +of the thirst and the language that was of bloom and blood laughed, as +they told how the captain's swears exceeded even his usual polyglot, +and was more than ever full of picturesque, when on questioning other +mariners who were on movement up and down the river that hour, he +found that few of them had seen any of fog at all, except where it lay +round the wharf. However, the ship went out on the ebb tide, and was +doubtless by morning far down the river mouth. She was then, when +they told us, well out to sea. + +"And so, my dear Madam Mina, it is that we have to rest for a time, +for our enemy is on the sea, with the fog at his command, on his way +to the Danube mouth. To sail a ship takes time, go she never so +quick. And when we start to go on land more quick, and we meet him +there. Our best hope is to come on him when in the box between +sunrise and sunset. For then he can make no struggle, and we may deal +with him as we should. There are days for us, in which we can make +ready our plan. We know all about where he go. For we have seen the +owner of the ship, who have shown us invoices and all papers that can +be. The box we seek is to be landed in Varna, and to be given to an +agent, one Ristics who will there present his credentials. And so our +merchant friend will have done his part. When he ask if there be any +wrong, for that so, he can telegraph and have inquiry made at Varna, +we say 'no,' for what is to be done is not for police or of the +customs. It must be done by us alone and in our own way." + +When Dr. Van Helsing had done speaking, I asked him if he were certain +that the Count had remained on board the ship. He replied, "We have +the best proof of that, your own evidence, when in the hypnotic trance +this morning." + +I asked him again if it were really necessary that they should pursue +the Count, for oh! I dread Jonathan leaving me, and I know that he +would surely go if the others went. He answered in growing passion, +at first quietly. As he went on, however, he grew more angry and more +forceful, till in the end we could not but see wherein was at least +some of that personal dominance which made him so long a master +amongst men. + +"Yes, it is necessary, necessary, necessary! For your sake in the +first, and then for the sake of humanity. This monster has done much +harm already, in the narrow scope where he find himself, and in the +short time when as yet he was only as a body groping his so small +measure in darkness and not knowing. All this have I told these +others. You, my dear Madam Mina, will learn it in the phonograph of +my friend John, or in that of your husband. I have told them how the +measure of leaving his own barren land, barren of peoples, and coming +to a new land where life of man teems till they are like the multitude +of standing corn, was the work of centuries. Were another of the +Undead, like him, to try to do what he has done, perhaps not all the +centuries of the world that have been, or that will be, could aid him. +With this one, all the forces of nature that are occult and deep and +strong must have worked together in some wonderous way. The very +place, where he have been alive, Undead for all these centuries, is +full of strangeness of the geologic and chemical world. There are +deep caverns and fissures that reach none know whither. There have +been volcanoes, some of whose openings still send out waters of +strange properties, and gases that kill or make to vivify. Doubtless, +there is something magnetic or electric in some of these combinations +of occult forces which work for physical life in strange way, and in +himself were from the first some great qualities. In a hard and +warlike time he was celebrate that he have more iron nerve, more +subtle brain, more braver heart, than any man. In him some vital +principle have in strange way found their utmost. And as his body +keep strong and grow and thrive, so his brain grow too. All this +without that diabolic aid which is surely to him. For it have to +yield to the powers that come from, and are, symbolic of good. And +now this is what he is to us. He have infect you, oh forgive me, my +dear, that I must say such, but it is for good of you that I speak. He +infect you in such wise, that even if he do no more, you have only to +live, to live in your own old, sweet way, and so in time, death, which +is of man's common lot and with God's sanction, shall make you like to +him. This must not be! We have sworn together that it must not. +Thus are we ministers of God's own wish. That the world, and men for +whom His Son die, will not be given over to monsters, whose very +existence would defame Him. He have allowed us to redeem one soul +already, and we go out as the old knights of the Cross to redeem +more. Like them we shall travel towards the sunrise. And like them, +if we fall, we fall in good cause." + +He paused and I said, "But will not the Count take his rebuff wisely? +Since he has been driven from England, will he not avoid it, as a +tiger does the village from which he has been hunted?" + +"Aha!" he said, "your simile of the tiger good, for me, and I shall +adopt him. Your maneater, as they of India call the tiger who has +once tasted blood of the human, care no more for the other prey, but +prowl unceasing till he get him. This that we hunt from our village +is a tiger, too, a maneater, and he never cease to prowl. Nay, in +himself he is not one to retire and stay afar. In his life, his +living life, he go over the Turkey frontier and attack his enemy on +his own ground. He be beaten back, but did he stay? No! He come +again, and again, and again. Look at his persistence and endurance. +With the child-brain that was to him he have long since conceive the +idea of coming to a great city. What does he do? He find out the +place of all the world most of promise for him. Then he deliberately +set himself down to prepare for the task. He find in patience just +how is his strength, and what are his powers. He study new tongues. +He learn new social life, new environment of old ways, the politics, +the law, the finance, the science, the habit of a new land and a new +people who have come to be since he was. His glimpse that he have +had, whet his appetite only and enkeen his desire. Nay, it help him +to grow as to his brain. For it all prove to him how right he was at +the first in his surmises. He have done this alone, all alone! From +a ruin tomb in a forgotten land. What more may he not do when the +greater world of thought is open to him. He that can smile at death, +as we know him. Who can flourish in the midst of diseases that kill +off whole peoples. Oh! If such an one was to come from God, and not +the Devil, what a force for good might he not be in this old world of +ours. But we are pledged to set the world free. Our toil must be in +silence, and our efforts all in secret. For in this enlightened age, +when men believe not even what they see, the doubting of wise men +would be his greatest strength. It would be at once his sheath and +his armor, and his weapons to destroy us, his enemies, who are willing +to peril even our own souls for the safety of one we love. For the +good of mankind, and for the honour and glory of God." + +After a general discussion it was determined that for tonight nothing +be definitely settled. That we should all sleep on the facts, and try +to think out the proper conclusions. Tomorrow, at breakfast, we are +to meet again, and after making our conclusions known to one another, +we shall decide on some definite cause of action . . . + +I feel a wonderful peace and rest tonight. It is as if some haunting +presence were removed from me. Perhaps . . . + +My surmise was not finished, could not be, for I caught sight in the +mirror of the red mark upon my forehead, and I knew that I was still +unclean. + + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +5 October.--We all arose early, and I think that sleep did much for +each and all of us. When we met at early breakfast there was more +general cheerfulness than any of us had ever expected to experience +again. + +It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human nature. +Let any obstructing cause, no matter what, be removed in any way, even +by death, and we fly back to first principles of hope and enjoyment. +More than once as we sat around the table, my eyes opened in wonder +whether the whole of the past days had not been a dream. It was only +when I caught sight of the red blotch on Mrs. Harker's forehead that I +was brought back to reality. Even now, when I am gravely revolving +the matter, it is almost impossible to realize that the cause of all +our trouble is still existent. Even Mrs. Harker seems to lose sight +of her trouble for whole spells. It is only now and again, when +something recalls it to her mind, that she thinks of her terrible +scar. We are to meet here in my study in half an hour and decide on +our course of action. I see only one immediate difficulty, I know it +by instinct rather than reason. We shall all have to speak frankly. +And yet I fear that in some mysterious way poor Mrs. Harker's tongue +is tied. I know that she forms conclusions of her own, and from all +that has been I can guess how brilliant and how true they must be. +But she will not, or cannot, give them utterance. I have mentioned +this to Van Helsing, and he and I are to talk it over when we are +alone. I suppose it is some of that horrid poison which has got into +her veins beginning to work. The Count had his own purposes when he +gave her what Van Helsing called "the Vampire's baptism of blood." +Well, there may be a poison that distills itself out of good things. +In an age when the existence of ptomaines is a mystery we should not +wonder at anything! One thing I know, that if my instinct be true +regarding poor Mrs. Harker's silences, then there is a terrible +difficulty, an unknown danger, in the work before us. The same power +that compels her silence may compel her speech. I dare not think +further, for so I should in my thoughts dishonour a noble woman! + + +Later.--When the Professor came in, we talked over the state of +things. I could see that he had something on his mind, which he +wanted to say, but felt some hesitancy about broaching the subject. +After beating about the bush a little, he said, "Friend John, there is +something that you and I must talk of alone, just at the first at any +rate. Later, we may have to take the others into our confidence." + +Then he stopped, so I waited. He went on, "Madam Mina, our poor, dear +Madam Mina is changing." + +A cold shiver ran through me to find my worst fears thus endorsed. +Van Helsing continued. + +"With the sad experience of Miss Lucy, we must this time be warned +before things go too far. Our task is now in reality more difficult +than ever, and this new trouble makes every hour of the direst +importance. I can see the characteristics of the vampire coming in +her face. It is now but very, very slight. But it is to be seen if +we have eyes to notice without prejudge. Her teeth are sharper, and +at times her eyes are more hard. But these are not all, there is to +her the silence now often, as so it was with Miss Lucy. She did not +speak, even when she wrote that which she wished to be known later. +Now my fear is this. If it be that she can, by our hypnotic trance, +tell what the Count see and hear, is it not more true that he who have +hypnotize her first, and who have drink of her very blood and make her +drink of his, should if he will, compel her mind to disclose to him +that which she know?" + +I nodded acquiescence. He went on, "Then, what we must do is to +prevent this. We must keep her ignorant of our intent, and so she +cannot tell what she know not. This is a painful task! Oh, so +painful that it heartbreak me to think of it, but it must be. When +today we meet, I must tell her that for reason which we will not to +speak she must not more be of our council, but be simply guarded by +us." + +He wiped his forehead, which had broken out in profuse perspiration at +the thought of the pain which he might have to inflict upon the poor +soul already so tortured. I knew that it would be some sort of +comfort to him if I told him that I also had come to the same +conclusion. For at any rate it would take away the pain of doubt. I +told him, and the effect was as I expected. + +It is now close to the time of our general gathering. Van Helsing has +gone away to prepare for the meeting, and his painful part of it. I +really believe his purpose is to be able to pray alone. + + +Later.--At the very outset of our meeting a great personal relief was +experienced by both Van Helsing and myself. Mrs. Harker had sent a +message by her husband to say that she would not join us at present, +as she thought it better that we should be free to discuss our +movements without her presence to embarrass us. The Professor and I +looked at each other for an instant, and somehow we both seemed +relieved. For my own part, I thought that if Mrs. Harker realized the +danger herself, it was much pain as well as much danger averted. +Under the circumstances we agreed, by a questioning look and answer, +with finger on lip, to preserve silence in our suspicions, until we +should have been able to confer alone again. We went at once into our +Plan of Campaign. + +Van Helsing roughly put the facts before us first, "The Czarina +Catherine left the Thames yesterday morning. It will take her at the +quickest speed she has ever made at least three weeks to reach Varna. +But we can travel overland to the same place in three days. Now, if +we allow for two days less for the ship's voyage, owing to such +weather influences as we know that the Count can bring to bear, and if +we allow a whole day and night for any delays which may occur to us, +then we have a margin of nearly two weeks. + +"Thus, in order to be quite safe, we must leave here on 17th at +latest. Then we shall at any rate be in Varna a day before the ship +arrives, and able to make such preparations as may be necessary. Of +course we shall all go armed, armed against evil things, spiritual as +well as physical." + +Here Quincey Morris added, "I understand that the Count comes from a +wolf country, and it may be that he shall get there before us. I +propose that we add Winchesters to our armament. I have a kind of +belief in a Winchester when there is any trouble of that sort around. +Do you remember, Art, when we had the pack after us at Tobolsk? What +wouldn't we have given then for a repeater apiece!" + +"Good!" said Van Helsing, "Winchesters it shall be. Quincey's head is +level at times, but most so when there is to hunt, metaphor be more +dishonour to science than wolves be of danger to man. In the meantime +we can do nothing here. And as I think that Varna is not familiar to +any of us, why not go there more soon? It is as long to wait here as +there. Tonight and tomorrow we can get ready, and then if all be +well, we four can set out on our journey." + +"We four?" said Harker interrogatively, looking from one to another of +us. + +"Of course!" answered the Professor quickly. "You must remain to take +care of your so sweet wife!" + +Harker was silent for awhile and then said in a hollow voice, "Let us +talk of that part of it in the morning. I want to consult with Mina." + +I thought that now was the time for Van Helsing to warn him not to +disclose our plan to her, but he took no notice. I looked at him +significantly and coughed. For answer he put his finger to his lips +and turned away. + + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +5 October, afternoon.--For some time after our meeting this morning I +could not think. The new phases of things leave my mind in a state of +wonder which allows no room for active thought. Mina's determination +not to take any part in the discussion set me thinking. And as I +could not argue the matter with her, I could only guess. I am as far +as ever from a solution now. The way the others received it, too +puzzled me. The last time we talked of the subject we agreed that +there was to be no more concealment of anything amongst us. Mina is +sleeping now, calmly and sweetly like a little child. Her lips are +curved and her face beams with happiness. Thank God, there are such +moments still for her. + + +Later.--How strange it all is. I sat watching Mina's happy sleep, and +I came as near to being happy myself as I suppose I shall ever be. As +the evening drew on, and the earth took its shadows from the sun +sinking lower, the silence of the room grew more and more solemn to +me. + +All at once Mina opened her eyes, and looking at me tenderly said, +"Jonathan, I want you to promise me something on your word of honour. +A promise made to me, but made holily in God's hearing, and not to be +broken though I should go down on my knees and implore you with bitter +tears. Quick, you must make it to me at once." + +"Mina," I said, "a promise like that, I cannot make at once. I may +have no right to make it." + +"But, dear one," she said, with such spiritual intensity that her eyes +were like pole stars, "it is I who wish it. And it is not for myself. +You can ask Dr. Van Helsing if I am not right. If he disagrees you +may do as you will. Nay, more if you all agree, later you are +absolved from the promise." + +"I promise!" I said, and for a moment she looked supremely happy. +Though to me all happiness for her was denied by the red scar on her +forehead. + +She said, "Promise me that you will not tell me anything of the plans +formed for the campaign against the Count. Not by word, or inference, +or implication, not at any time whilst this remains to me!" And she +solemnly pointed to the scar. I saw that she was in earnest, and said +solemnly, "I promise!" and as I said it I felt that from that instant +a door had been shut between us. + + +Later, midnight.--Mina has been bright and cheerful all the evening. +So much so that all the rest seemed to take courage, as if infected +somewhat with her gaiety. As a result even I myself felt as if the +pall of gloom which weighs us down were somewhat lifted. We all +retired early. Mina is now sleeping like a little child. It is +wonderful thing that her faculty of sleep remains to her in the midst +of her terrible trouble. Thank God for it, for then at least she can +forget her care. Perhaps her example may affect me as her gaiety did +tonight. I shall try it. Oh! For a dreamless sleep. + +6 October, morning.--Another surprise. Mina woke me early, about the +same time as yesterday, and asked me to bring Dr. Van Helsing. I +thought that it was another occasion for hypnotism, and without +question went for the Professor. He had evidently expected some such +call, for I found him dressed in his room. His door was ajar, so that +he could hear the opening of the door of our room. He came at once. +As he passed into the room, he asked Mina if the others might come, +too. + +"No," she said quite simply, "it will not be necessary. You can tell +them just as well. I must go with you on your journey." + +Dr. Van Helsing was as startled as I was. After a moment's pause he +asked, "But why?" + +"You must take me with you. I am safer with you, and you shall be +safer, too." + +"But why, dear Madam Mina? You know that your safety is our solemnest +duty. We go into danger, to which you are, or may be, more liable +than any of us from . . . from circumstances . . . things that have +been." He paused embarrassed. + +As she replied, she raised her finger and pointed to her forehead. "I +know. That is why I must go. I can tell you now, whilst the sun is +coming up. I may not be able again. I know that when the Count wills +me I must go. I know that if he tells me to come in secret, I must by +wile. By any device to hoodwink, even Jonathan." God saw the look +that she turned on me as she spoke, and if there be indeed a Recording +Angel that look is noted to her ever-lasting honour. I could only +clasp her hand. I could not speak. My emotion was too great for even +the relief of tears. + +She went on. "You men are brave and strong. You are strong in your +numbers, for you can defy that which would break down the human +endurance of one who had to guard alone. Besides, I may be of +service, since you can hypnotize me and so learn that which even I +myself do not know." + +Dr. Van Helsing said gravely, "Madam Mina, you are, as always, most +wise. You shall with us come. And together we shall do that which we +go forth to achieve." + +When he had spoken, Mina's long spell of silence made me look at her. +She had fallen back on her pillow asleep. She did not even wake when +I had pulled up the blind and let in the sunlight which flooded the +room. Van Helsing motioned to me to come with him quietly. We went +to his room, and within a minute Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, and Mr. +Morris were with us also. + +He told them what Mina had said, and went on. "In the morning we +shall leave for Varna. We have now to deal with a new factor, Madam +Mina. Oh, but her soul is true. It is to her an agony to tell us so +much as she has done. But it is most right, and we are warned in +time. There must be no chance lost, and in Varna we must be ready to +act the instant when that ship arrives." + +"What shall we do exactly?" asked Mr. Morris laconically. + +The Professor paused before replying, "We shall at the first board +that ship. Then, when we have identified the box, we shall place a +branch of the wild rose on it. This we shall fasten, for when it is +there none can emerge, so that at least says the superstition. And to +superstition must we trust at the first. It was man's faith in the +early, and it have its root in faith still. Then, when we get the +opportunity that we seek, when none are near to see, we shall open the +box, and . . . and all will be well." + +"I shall not wait for any opportunity," said Morris. "When I see the +box I shall open it and destroy the monster, though there were a +thousand men looking on, and if I am to be wiped out for it the next +moment!" I grasped his hand instinctively and found it as firm as a +piece of steel. I think he understood my look. I hope he did. + +"Good boy," said Dr. Van Helsing. "Brave boy. Quincey is all man. +God bless him for it. My child, believe me none of us shall lag +behind or pause from any fear. I do but say what we may do . . . what +we must do. But, indeed, indeed we cannot say what we may do. There +are so many things which may happen, and their ways and their ends are +so various that until the moment we may not say. We shall all be +armed, in all ways. And when the time for the end has come, our +effort shall not be lack. Now let us today put all our affairs in +order. Let all things which touch on others dear to us, and who on us +depend, be complete. For none of us can tell what, or when, or how, +the end may be. As for me, my own affairs are regulate, and as I have +nothing else to do, I shall go make arrangements for the travel. I +shall have all tickets and so forth for our journey." + +There was nothing further to be said, and we parted. I shall now +settle up all my affairs of earth, and be ready for whatever may come. + + +Later.--It is done. My will is made, and all complete. Mina if she +survive is my sole heir. If it should not be so, then the others who +have been so good to us shall have remainder. + +It is now drawing towards the sunset. Mina's uneasiness calls my +attention to it. I am sure that there is something on her mind which +the time of exact sunset will reveal. These occasions are becoming +harrowing times for us all. For each sunrise and sunset opens up some +new danger, some new pain, which however, may in God's will be means +to a good end. I write all these things in the diary since my darling +must not hear them now. But if it may be that she can see them again, +they shall be ready. She is calling to me. + + + + +CHAPTER 25 + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +11 October, Evening.--Jonathan Harker has asked me to note this, as he +says he is hardly equal to the task, and he wants an exact record +kept. + +I think that none of us were surprised when we were asked to see Mrs. +Harker a little before the time of sunset. We have of late come to +understand that sunrise and sunset are to her times of peculiar +freedom. When her old self can be manifest without any controlling +force subduing or restraining her, or inciting her to action. This +mood or condition begins some half hour or more before actual sunrise +or sunset, and lasts till either the sun is high, or whilst the clouds +are still aglow with the rays streaming above the horizon. At first +there is a sort of negative condition, as if some tie were loosened, +and then the absolute freedom quickly follows. When, however, the +freedom ceases the change back or relapse comes quickly, preceded +only by a spell of warning silence. + +Tonight, when we met, she was somewhat constrained, and bore all the +signs of an internal struggle. I put it down myself to her making a +violent effort at the earliest instant she could do so. + +A very few minutes, however, gave her complete control of herself. +Then, motioning her husband to sit beside her on the sofa where she +was half reclining, she made the rest of us bring chairs up close. + +Taking her husband's hand in hers, she began, "We are all here +together in freedom, for perhaps the last time! I know that you will +always be with me to the end." This was to her husband whose hand had, +as we could see, tightened upon her. "In the morning we go out upon +our task, and God alone knows what may be in store for any of us. You +are going to be so good to me to take me with you. I know that all +that brave earnest men can do for a poor weak woman, whose soul +perhaps is lost, no, no, not yet, but is at any rate at stake, you +will do. But you must remember that I am not as you are. There is a +poison in my blood, in my soul, which may destroy me, which must +destroy me, unless some relief comes to us. Oh, my friends, you know +as well as I do, that my soul is at stake. And though I know there is +one way out for me, you must not and I must not take it!" She looked +appealingly to us all in turn, beginning and ending with her husband. + +"What is that way?" asked Van Helsing in a hoarse voice. "What is +that way, which we must not, may not, take?" + +"That I may die now, either by my own hand or that of another, before +the greater evil is entirely wrought. I know, and you know, that were +I once dead you could and would set free my immortal spirit, even as +you did my poor Lucy's. Were death, or the fear of death, the only +thing that stood in the way I would not shrink to die here now, amidst +the friends who love me. But death is not all. I cannot believe that +to die in such a case, when there is hope before us and a bitter task +to be done, is God's will. Therefore, I on my part, give up here the +certainty of eternal rest, and go out into the dark where may be the +blackest things that the world or the nether world holds!" + +We were all silent, for we knew instinctively that this was only a +prelude. The faces of the others were set, and Harker's grew ashen +grey. Perhaps, he guessed better than any of us what was coming. + +She continued, "This is what I can give into the hotch-pot." I could +not but note the quaint legal phrase which she used in such a place, +and with all seriousness. "What will each of you give? Your lives I +know," she went on quickly, "that is easy for brave men. Your lives +are God's, and you can give them back to Him, but what will you give +to me?" She looked again questioningly, but this time avoided her +husband's face. Quincey seemed to understand, he nodded, and her face +lit up. "Then I shall tell you plainly what I want, for there must be +no doubtful matter in this connection between us now. You must +promise me, one and all, even you, my beloved husband, that should the +time come, you will kill me." + +"What is that time?" The voice was Quincey's, but it was low and +strained. + +"When you shall be convinced that I am so changed that it is better +that I die that I may live. When I am thus dead in the flesh, then +you will, without a moment's delay, drive a stake through me and cut +off my head, or do whatever else may be wanting to give me rest!" + +Quincey was the first to rise after the pause. He knelt down before +her and taking her hand in his said solemnly, "I'm only a rough +fellow, who hasn't, perhaps, lived as a man should to win such a +distinction, but I swear to you by all that I hold sacred and dear +that, should the time ever come, I shall not flinch from the duty that +you have set us. And I promise you, too, that I shall make all +certain, for if I am only doubtful I shall take it that the time has +come!" + +"My true friend!" was all she could say amid her fast-falling tears, +as bending over, she kissed his hand. + +"I swear the same, my dear Madam Mina!" said Van Helsing. "And I!" +said Lord Godalming, each of them in turn kneeling to her to take the +oath. I followed, myself. + +Then her husband turned to her wan-eyed and with a greenish pallor +which subdued the snowy whiteness of his hair, and asked, "And must I, +too, make such a promise, oh, my wife?" + +"You too, my dearest," she said, with infinite yearning of pity in her +voice and eyes. "You must not shrink. You are nearest and dearest +and all the world to me. Our souls are knit into one, for all life +and all time. Think, dear, that there have been times when brave men +have killed their wives and their womenkind, to keep them from falling +into the hands of the enemy. Their hands did not falter any the more +because those that they loved implored them to slay them. It is men's +duty towards those whom they love, in such times of sore trial! And +oh, my dear, if it is to be that I must meet death at any hand, let it +be at the hand of him that loves me best. Dr. Van Helsing, I have not +forgotten your mercy in poor Lucy's case to him who loved." She +stopped with a flying blush, and changed her phrase, "to him who had +best right to give her peace. If that time shall come again, I look +to you to make it a happy memory of my husband's life that it was his +loving hand which set me free from the awful thrall upon me." + +"Again I swear!" came the Professor's resonant voice. + +Mrs. Harker smiled, positively smiled, as with a sigh of relief she +leaned back and said, "And now one word of warning, a warning which +you must never forget. This time, if it ever come, may come quickly +and unexpectedly, and in such case you must lose no time in using your +opportunity. At such a time I myself might be . . . nay! If the time +ever come, shall be, leagued with your enemy against you. + +"One more request," she became very solemn as she said this, "it is +not vital and necessary like the other, but I want you to do one thing +for me, if you will." + +We all acquiesced, but no one spoke. There was no need to speak. + +"I want you to read the Burial Service." She was interrupted by a +deep groan from her husband. Taking his hand in hers, she held it +over her heart, and continued. "You must read it over me some day. +Whatever may be the issue of all this fearful state of things, it will +be a sweet thought to all or some of us. You, my dearest, will I hope +read it, for then it will be in your voice in my memory forever, come +what may!" + +"But oh, my dear one," he pleaded, "death is afar off from you." + +"Nay," she said, holding up a warning hand. "I am deeper in death at +this moment than if the weight of an earthly grave lay heavy upon me!" + +"Oh, my wife, must I read it?" he said, before he began. + +"It would comfort me, my husband!" was all she said, and he began to +read when she had got the book ready. + +How can I, how could anyone, tell of that strange scene, its +solemnity, its gloom, its sadness, its horror, and withal, its +sweetness. Even a sceptic, who can see nothing but a travesty of +bitter truth in anything holy or emotional, would have been melted to +the heart had he seen that little group of loving and devoted friends +kneeling round that stricken and sorrowing lady; or heard the tender +passion of her husband's voice, as in tones so broken and emotional +that often he had to pause, he read the simple and beautiful service +from the Burial of the Dead. I cannot go on . . . words . . . and +v-voices . . . f-fail m-me! + +She was right in her instinct. Strange as it was, bizarre as it may +hereafter seem even to us who felt its potent influence at the time, +it comforted us much. And the silence, which showed Mrs. Harker's +coming relapse from her freedom of soul, did not seem so full of +despair to any of us as we had dreaded. + + + + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +15 October, Varna.--We left Charing Cross on the morning of the 12th, +got to Paris the same night, and took the places secured for us in the +Orient Express. We traveled night and day, arriving here at about +five o'clock. Lord Godalming went to the Consulate to see if any +telegram had arrived for him, whilst the rest of us came on to this +hotel, "the Odessus." The journey may have had incidents. I was, +however, too eager to get on, to care for them. Until the Czarina +Catherine comes into port there will be no interest for me in anything +in the wide world. Thank God! Mina is well, and looks to be getting +stronger. Her colour is coming back. She sleeps a great deal. +Throughout the journey she slept nearly all the time. Before sunrise +and sunset, however, she is very wakeful and alert. And it has become +a habit for Van Helsing to hypnotize her at such times. At first, +some effort was needed, and he had to make many passes. But now, she +seems to yield at once, as if by habit, and scarcely any action is +needed. He seems to have power at these particular moments to simply +will, and her thoughts obey him. He always asks her what she can see +and hear. + +She answers to the first, "Nothing, all is dark." + +And to the second, "I can hear the waves lapping against the ship, and +the water rushing by. Canvas and cordage strain and masts and yards +creak. The wind is high . . . I can hear it in the shrouds, and the +bow throws back the foam." + +It is evident that the Czarina Catherine is still at sea, hastening on +her way to Varna. Lord Godalming has just returned. He had four +telegrams, one each day since we started, and all to the same effect. +That the Czarina Catherine had not been reported to Lloyd's from +anywhere. He had arranged before leaving London that his agent should +send him every day a telegram saying if the ship had been reported. +He was to have a message even if she were not reported, so that he +might be sure that there was a watch being kept at the other end of +the wire. + +We had dinner and went to bed early. Tomorrow we are to see the Vice +Consul, and to arrange, if we can, about getting on board the ship as +soon as she arrives. Van Helsing says that our chance will be to get +on the boat between sunrise and sunset. The Count, even if he takes +the form of a bat, cannot cross the running water of his own volition, +and so cannot leave the ship. As he dare not change to man's form +without suspicion, which he evidently wishes to avoid, he must remain +in the box. If, then, we can come on board after sunrise, he is at +our mercy, for we can open the box and make sure of him, as we did of +poor Lucy, before he wakes. What mercy he shall get from us all will +not count for much. We think that we shall not have much trouble with +officials or the seamen. Thank God! This is the country where +bribery can do anything, and we are well supplied with money. We have +only to make sure that the ship cannot come into port between sunset +and sunrise without our being warned, and we shall be safe. Judge +Moneybag will settle this case, I think! + + +16 October.--Mina's report still the same. Lapping waves and rushing +water, darkness and favouring winds. We are evidently in good time, +and when we hear of the Czarina Catherine we shall be ready. As she +must pass the Dardanelles we are sure to have some report. + + +17 October.--Everything is pretty well fixed now, I think, to welcome +the Count on his return from his tour. Godalming told the shippers +that he fancied that the box sent aboard might contain something +stolen from a friend of his, and got a half consent that he might open +it at his own risk. The owner gave him a paper telling the Captain to +give him every facility in doing whatever he chose on board the ship, +and also a similar authorization to his agent at Varna. We have seen +the agent, who was much impressed with Godalming's kindly manner to +him, and we are all satisfied that whatever he can do to aid our +wishes will be done. + +We have already arranged what to do in case we get the box open. If +the Count is there, Van Helsing and Seward will cut off his head at +once and drive a stake through his heart. Morris and Godalming and I +shall prevent interference, even if we have to use the arms which we +shall have ready. The Professor says that if we can so treat the +Count's body, it will soon after fall into dust. In such case there +would be no evidence against us, in case any suspicion of murder were +aroused. But even if it were not, we should stand or fall by our act, +and perhaps some day this very script may be evidence to come between +some of us and a rope. For myself, I should take the chance only too +thankfully if it were to come. We mean to leave no stone unturned to +carry out our intent. We have arranged with certain officials that +the instant the Czarina Catherine is seen, we are to be informed by a +special messenger. + + +24 October.--A whole week of waiting. Daily telegrams to Godalming, +but only the same story. "Not yet reported." Mina's morning and +evening hypnotic answer is unvaried. Lapping waves, rushing water, +and creaking masts. + + + + +TELEGRAM, OCTOBER 24TH RUFUS SMITH, LLOYD'S, LONDON, +TO LORD GODALMING, CARE OF H. B. M. VICE CONSUL, VARNA + +"Czarina Catherine reported this morning from Dardanelles." + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +25 October.--How I miss my phonograph! To write a diary with a pen is +irksome to me! But Van Helsing says I must. We were all wild with +excitement yesterday when Godalming got his telegram from Lloyd's. I +know now what men feel in battle when the call to action is heard. +Mrs. Harker, alone of our party, did not show any signs of emotion. +After all, it is not strange that she did not, for we took special +care not to let her know anything about it, and we all tried not to +show any excitement when we were in her presence. In old days she +would, I am sure, have noticed, no matter how we might have tried to +conceal it. But in this way she is greatly changed during the past +three weeks. The lethargy grows upon her, and though she seems strong +and well, and is getting back some of her colour, Van Helsing and I are +not satisfied. We talk of her often. We have not, however, said a +word to the others. It would break poor Harker's heart, certainly his +nerve, if he knew that we had even a suspicion on the subject. Van +Helsing examines, he tells me, her teeth very carefully, whilst she is +in the hypnotic condition, for he says that so long as they do not +begin to sharpen there is no active danger of a change in her. If +this change should come, it would be necessary to take steps! We both +know what those steps would have to be, though we do not mention our +thoughts to each other. We should neither of us shrink from the task, +awful though it be to contemplate. "Euthanasia" is an excellent and a +comforting word! I am grateful to whoever invented it. + +It is only about 24 hours' sail from the Dardanelles to here, at the +rate the Czarina Catherine has come from London. She should therefore +arrive some time in the morning, but as she cannot possibly get in +before noon, we are all about to retire early. We shall get up at one +o'clock, so as to be ready. + + +25 October, Noon.--No news yet of the ship's arrival. Mrs. Harker's +hypnotic report this morning was the same as usual, so it is possible +that we may get news at any moment. We men are all in a fever of +excitement, except Harker, who is calm. His hands are cold as ice, +and an hour ago I found him whetting the edge of the great Ghoorka +knife which he now always carries with him. It will be a bad lookout +for the Count if the edge of that "Kukri" ever touches his throat, +driven by that stern, ice-cold hand! + +Van Helsing and I were a little alarmed about Mrs. Harker today. +About noon she got into a sort of lethargy which we did not like. +Although we kept silence to the others, we were neither of us happy +about it. She had been restless all the morning, so that we were at +first glad to know that she was sleeping. When, however, her husband +mentioned casually that she was sleeping so soundly that he could not +wake her, we went to her room to see for ourselves. She was breathing +naturally and looked so well and peaceful that we agreed that the +sleep was better for her than anything else. Poor girl, she has so +much to forget that it is no wonder that sleep, if it brings oblivion +to her, does her good. + + +Later.--Our opinion was justified, for when after a refreshing sleep +of some hours she woke up, she seemed brighter and better than she had +been for days. At sunset she made the usual hypnotic report. +Wherever he may be in the Black Sea, the Count is hurrying to his +destination. To his doom, I trust! + + + +26 October.--Another day and no tidings of the Czarina Catherine. She +ought to be here by now. That she is still journeying somewhere is +apparent, for Mrs. Harker's hypnotic report at sunrise was still the +same. It is possible that the vessel may be lying by, at times, for +fog. Some of the steamers which came in last evening reported patches +of fog both to north and south of the port. We must continue our +watching, as the ship may now be signalled any moment. + + +27 October, Noon.--Most strange. No news yet of the ship we wait for. +Mrs. Harker reported last night and this morning as usual. "Lapping +waves and rushing water," though she added that "the waves were very +faint." The telegrams from London have been the same, "no further +report." Van Helsing is terribly anxious, and told me just now that he +fears the Count is escaping us. + +He added significantly, "I did not like that lethargy of Madam Mina's. +Souls and memories can do strange things during trance." I was about +to ask him more, but Harker just then came in, and he held up a +warning hand. We must try tonight at sunset to make her speak more +fully when in her hypnotic state. + + +28 October.--Telegram. Rufus Smith, London, to Lord Godalming, care +H. B. M. Vice Consul, Varna + +"Czarina Catherine reported entering Galatz at one o'clock today." + + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +28 October.--When the telegram came announcing the arrival in Galatz I +do not think it was such a shock to any of us as might have been +expected. True, we did not know whence, or how, or when, the bolt +would come. But I think we all expected that something strange would +happen. The day of arrival at Varna made us individually satisfied +that things would not be just as we had expected. We only waited to +learn where the change would occur. None the less, however, it was a +surprise. I suppose that nature works on such a hopeful basis that we +believe against ourselves that things will be as they ought to be, not +as we should know that they will be. Transcendentalism is a beacon to +the angels, even if it be a will-o'-the-wisp to man. Van Helsing +raised his hand over his head for a moment, as though in remonstrance +with the Almighty. But he said not a word, and in a few seconds stood +up with his face sternly set. + +Lord Godalming grew very pale, and sat breathing heavily. I was +myself half stunned and looked in wonder at one after another. +Quincey Morris tightened his belt with that quick movement which I +knew so well. In our old wandering days it meant "action." Mrs. +Harker grew ghastly white, so that the scar on her forehead seemed to +burn, but she folded her hands meekly and looked up in prayer. Harker +smiled, actually smiled, the dark, bitter smile of one who is without +hope, but at the same time his action belied his words, for his hands +instinctively sought the hilt of the great Kukri knife and rested +there. + +"When does the next train start for Galatz?" said Van Helsing to us +generally. + +"At 6:30 tomorrow morning!" We all started, for the answer came from +Mrs. Harker. + +"How on earth do you know?" said Art. + +"You forget, or perhaps you do not know, though Jonathan does and so +does Dr. Van Helsing, that I am the train fiend. At home in Exeter I +always used to make up the time tables, so as to be helpful to my +husband. I found it so useful sometimes, that I always make a study +of the time tables now. I knew that if anything were to take us to +Castle Dracula we should go by Galatz, or at any rate through +Bucharest, so I learned the times very carefully. Unhappily there are +not many to learn, as the only train tomorrow leaves as I say." + +"Wonderful woman!" murmured the Professor. + +"Can't we get a special?" asked Lord Godalming. + +Van Helsing shook his head, "I fear not. This land is very different +from yours or mine. Even if we did have a special, it would probably +not arrive as soon as our regular train. Moreover, we have something +to prepare. We must think. Now let us organize. You, friend Arthur, +go to the train and get the tickets and arrange that all be ready for +us to go in the morning. Do you, friend Jonathan, go to the agent of +the ship and get from him letters to the agent in Galatz, with +authority to make a search of the ship just as it was here. Quincey +Morris, you see the Vice Consul, and get his aid with his fellow in +Galatz and all he can do to make our way smooth, so that no times be +lost when over the Danube. John will stay with Madam Mina and me, and +we shall consult. For so if time be long you may be delayed. And it +will not matter when the sun set, since I am here with Madam to make +report." + +"And I," said Mrs. Harker brightly, and more like her old self than +she had been for many a long day, "shall try to be of use in all ways, +and shall think and write for you as I used to do. Something is +shifting from me in some strange way, and I feel freer than I have +been of late!" + +The three younger men looked happier at the moment as they seemed to +realize the significance of her words. But Van Helsing and I, turning +to each other, met each a grave and troubled glance. We said nothing +at the time, however. + +When the three men had gone out to their tasks Van Helsing asked Mrs. +Harker to look up the copy of the diaries and find him the part of +Harker's journal at the Castle. She went away to get it. + +When the door was shut upon her he said to me, "We mean the same! +Speak out!" + +"Here is some change. It is a hope that makes me sick, for it may +deceive us." + +"Quite so. Do you know why I asked her to get the manuscript?" + +"No!" said I, "unless it was to get an opportunity of seeing me +alone." + +"You are in part right, friend John, but only in part. I want to tell +you something. And oh, my friend, I am taking a great, a terrible, +risk. But I believe it is right. In the moment when Madam Mina said +those words that arrest both our understanding, an inspiration came to +me. In the trance of three days ago the Count sent her his spirit to +read her mind. Or more like he took her to see him in his earth box +in the ship with water rushing, just as it go free at rise and set of +sun. He learn then that we are here, for she have more to tell in her +open life with eyes to see ears to hear than he, shut as he is, in his +coffin box. Now he make his most effort to escape us. At present he +want her not. + +"He is sure with his so great knowledge that she will come at his +call. But he cut her off, take her, as he can do, out of his own +power, that so she come not to him. Ah! There I have hope that our +man brains that have been of man so long and that have not lost the +grace of God, will come higher than his child-brain that lie in his +tomb for centuries, that grow not yet to our stature, and that do only +work selfish and therefore small. Here comes Madam Mina. Not a word +to her of her trance! She knows it not, and it would overwhelm her +and make despair just when we want all her hope, all her courage, when +most we want all her great brain which is trained like man's brain, +but is of sweet woman and have a special power which the Count give +her, and which he may not take away altogether, though he think not +so. Hush! Let me speak, and you shall learn. Oh, John, my friend, +we are in awful straits. I fear, as I never feared before. We can +only trust the good God. Silence! Here she comes!" + +I thought that the Professor was going to break down and have +hysterics, just as he had when Lucy died, but with a great effort he +controlled himself and was at perfect nervous poise when Mrs. Harker +tripped into the room, bright and happy looking and, in the doing of +work, seemingly forgetful of her misery. As she came in, she handed a +number of sheets of typewriting to Van Helsing. He looked over them +gravely, his face brightening up as he read. + +Then holding the pages between his finger and thumb he said, "Friend +John, to you with so much experience already, and you too, dear Madam +Mina, that are young, here is a lesson. Do not fear ever to think. A +half thought has been buzzing often in my brain, but I fear to let him +loose his wings. Here now, with more knowledge, I go back to where +that half thought come from and I find that he be no half thought at +all. That be a whole thought, though so young that he is not yet +strong to use his little wings. Nay, like the 'Ugly Duck' of my +friend Hans Andersen, he be no duck thought at all, but a big swan +thought that sail nobly on big wings, when the time come for him to +try them. See I read here what Jonathan have written. + +"That other of his race who, in a later age, again and again, brought +his forces over The Great River into Turkey Land, who when he was +beaten back, came again, and again, and again, though he had to come +alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, +since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph. + +"What does this tell us? Not much? No! The Count's child thought +see nothing, therefore he speak so free. Your man thought see +nothing. My man thought see nothing, till just now. No! But there +comes another word from some one who speak without thought because +she, too, know not what it mean, what it might mean. Just as there +are elements which rest, yet when in nature's course they move on +their way and they touch, the pouf! And there comes a flash of light, +heaven wide, that blind and kill and destroy some. But that show up +all earth below for leagues and leagues. Is it not so? Well, I shall +explain. To begin, have you ever study the philosophy of crime? +'Yes' and 'No.' You, John, yes, for it is a study of insanity. You, +no, Madam Mina, for crime touch you not, not but once. Still, your +mind works true, and argues not a particulari ad universale. There is +this peculiarity in criminals. It is so constant, in all countries +and at all times, that even police, who know not much from philosophy, +come to know it empirically, that it is. That is to be empiric. The +criminal always work at one crime, that is the true criminal who seems +predestinate to crime, and who will of none other. This criminal has +not full man brain. He is clever and cunning and resourceful, but he +be not of man stature as to brain. He be of child brain in much. Now +this criminal of ours is predestinate to crime also. He, too, have +child brain, and it is of the child to do what he have done. The +little bird, the little fish, the little animal learn not by +principle, but empirically. And when he learn to do, then there is to +him the ground to start from to do more. 'Dos pou sto,' said +Archimedes. 'Give me a fulcrum, and I shall move the world!' To do +once, is the fulcrum whereby child brain become man brain. And until +he have the purpose to do more, he continue to do the same again every +time, just as he have done before! Oh, my dear, I see that your eyes +are opened, and that to you the lightning flash show all the leagues," +for Mrs. Harker began to clap her hands and her eyes sparkled. + +He went on, "Now you shall speak. Tell us two dry men of science what +you see with those so bright eyes." He took her hand and held it +whilst he spoke. His finger and thumb closed on her pulse, as I +thought instinctively and unconsciously, as she spoke. + +"The Count is a criminal and of criminal type. Nordau and Lombroso +would so classify him, and qua criminal he is of an imperfectly formed +mind. Thus, in a difficulty he has to seek resource in habit. His +past is a clue, and the one page of it that we know, and that from his +own lips, tells that once before, when in what Mr. Morris would call +a 'tight place,' he went back to his own country from the land he had +tried to invade, and thence, without losing purpose, prepared himself +for a new effort. He came again better equipped for his work, and +won. So he came to London to invade a new land. He was beaten, and +when all hope of success was lost, and his existence in danger, he +fled back over the sea to his home. Just as formerly he had fled back +over the Danube from Turkey Land." + +"Good, good! Oh, you so clever lady!" said Van Helsing, +enthusiastically, as he stooped and kissed her hand. A moment later +he said to me, as calmly as though we had been having a sick room +consultation, "Seventy-two only, and in all this excitement. I have +hope." + +Turning to her again, he said with keen expectation, "But go on. Go +on! There is more to tell if you will. Be not afraid. John and I +know. I do in any case, and shall tell you if you are right. Speak, +without fear!" + +"I will try to. But you will forgive me if I seem too egotistical." + +"Nay! Fear not, you must be egotist, for it is of you that we think." + +"Then, as he is criminal he is selfish. And as his intellect is small +and his action is based on selfishness, he confines himself to one +purpose. That purpose is remorseless. As he fled back over the +Danube, leaving his forces to be cut to pieces, so now he is intent on +being safe, careless of all. So his own selfishness frees my soul +somewhat from the terrible power which he acquired over me on that +dreadful night. I felt it! Oh, I felt it! Thank God, for His great +mercy! My soul is freer than it has been since that awful hour. And +all that haunts me is a fear lest in some trance or dream he may have +used my knowledge for his ends." + +The Professor stood up, "He has so used your mind, and by it he has +left us here in Varna, whilst the ship that carried him rushed through +enveloping fog up to Galatz, where, doubtless, he had made preparation +for escaping from us. But his child mind only saw so far. And it may +be that as ever is in God's Providence, the very thing that the evil +doer most reckoned on for his selfish good, turns out to be his +chiefest harm. The hunter is taken in his own snare, as the great +Psalmist says. For now that he think he is free from every trace of +us all, and that he has escaped us with so many hours to him, then his +selfish child brain will whisper him to sleep. He think, too, that as +he cut himself off from knowing your mind, there can be no knowledge +of him to you. There is where he fail! That terrible baptism of +blood which he give you makes you free to go to him in spirit, as you +have as yet done in your times of freedom, when the sun rise and set. +At such times you go by my volition and not by his. And this power to +good of you and others, you have won from your suffering at his hands. +This is now all more precious that he know it not, and to guard +himself have even cut himself off from his knowledge of our where. +We, however, are not selfish, and we believe that God is with us +through all this blackness, and these many dark hours. We shall +follow him, and we shall not flinch, even if we peril ourselves that +we become like him. Friend John, this has been a great hour, and it +have done much to advance us on our way. You must be scribe and write +him all down, so that when the others return from their work you can +give it to them, then they shall know as we do." + +And so I have written it whilst we wait their return, and Mrs. Harker +has written with the typewriter all since she brought the MS to us. + + + + +CHAPTER 26 + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +29 October.--This is written in the train from Varna to Galatz. Last +night we all assembled a little before the time of sunset. Each of us +had done his work as well as he could, so far as thought, and +endeavour, and opportunity go, we are prepared for the whole of our +journey, and for our work when we get to Galatz. When the usual time +came round Mrs. Harker prepared herself for her hypnotic effort, and +after a longer and more serious effort on the part of Van Helsing than +has been usually necessary, she sank into the trance. Usually she +speaks on a hint, but this time the Professor had to ask her +questions, and to ask them pretty resolutely, before we could learn +anything. At last her answer came. + +"I can see nothing. We are still. There are no waves lapping, but +only a steady swirl of water softly running against the hawser. I can +hear men's voices calling, near and far, and the roll and creak of +oars in the rowlocks. A gun is fired somewhere, the echo of it seems +far away. There is tramping of feet overhead, and ropes and chains +are dragged along. What is this? There is a gleam of light. I can +feel the air blowing upon me." + +Here she stopped. She had risen, as if impulsively, from where she +lay on the sofa, and raised both her hands, palms upwards, as if +lifting a weight. Van Helsing and I looked at each other with +understanding. Quincey raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at her +intently, whilst Harker's hand instinctively closed round the hilt of +his Kukri. There was a long pause. We all knew that the time when +she could speak was passing, but we felt that it was useless to say +anything. + +Suddenly she sat up, and as she opened her eyes said sweetly, "Would +none of you like a cup of tea? You must all be so tired!" + +We could only make her happy, and so acqueisced. She bustled off to +get tea. When she had gone Van Helsing said, "You see, my friends. He +is close to land. He has left his earth chest. But he has yet to get +on shore. In the night he may lie hidden somewhere, but if he be not +carried on shore, or if the ship do not touch it, he cannot achieve +the land. In such case he can, if it be in the night, change his form +and jump or fly on shore, then, unless he be carried he cannot escape. +And if he be carried, then the customs men may discover what the box +contain. Thus, in fine, if he escape not on shore tonight, or before +dawn, there will be the whole day lost to him. We may then arrive in +time. For if he escape not at night we shall come on him in daytime, +boxed up and at our mercy. For he dare not be his true self, awake +and visible, lest he be discovered." + +There was no more to be said, so we waited in patience until the dawn, +at which time we might learn more from Mrs. Harker. + +Early this morning we listened, with breathless anxiety, for her +response in her trance. The hypnotic stage was even longer in coming +than before, and when it came the time remaining until full sunrise +was so short that we began to despair. Van Helsing seemed to throw +his whole soul into the effort. At last, in obedience to his will she +made reply. + +"All is dark. I hear lapping water, level with me, and some creaking +as of wood on wood." She paused, and the red sun shot up. We must +wait till tonight. + +And so it is that we are travelling towards Galatz in an agony of +expectation. We are due to arrive between two and three in the +morning. But already, at Bucharest, we are three hours late, so we +cannot possibly get in till well after sunup. Thus we shall have two +more hypnotic messages from Mrs. Harker! Either or both may possibly +throw more light on what is happening. + + +Later.--Sunset has come and gone. Fortunately it came at a time when +there was no distraction. For had it occurred whilst we were at a +station, we might not have secured the necessary calm and isolation. +Mrs. Harker yielded to the hypnotic influence even less readily than +this morning. I am in fear that her power of reading the Count's +sensations may die away, just when we want it most. It seems to me +that her imagination is beginning to work. Whilst she has been in the +trance hitherto she has confined herself to the simplest of facts. If +this goes on it may ultimately mislead us. If I thought that the +Count's power over her would die away equally with her power of +knowledge it would be a happy thought. But I am afraid that it may +not be so. + +When she did speak, her words were enigmatical, "Something is going +out. I can feel it pass me like a cold wind. I can hear, far off, +confused sounds, as of men talking in strange tongues, fierce falling +water, and the howling of wolves." She stopped and a shudder ran +through her, increasing in intensity for a few seconds, till at the +end, she shook as though in a palsy. She said no more, even in answer +to the Professor's imperative questioning. When she woke from the +trance, she was cold, and exhausted, and languid, but her mind was all +alert. She could not remember anything, but asked what she had said. +When she was told, she pondered over it deeply for a long time and in +silence. + + +30 October, 7 A.M.--We are near Galatz now, and I may not have time to +write later. Sunrise this morning was anxiously looked for by us all. +Knowing of the increasing difficulty of procuring the hypnotic trance, +Van Helsing began his passes earlier than usual. They produced no +effect, however, until the regular time, when she yielded with a still +greater difficulty, only a minute before the sun rose. The Professor +lost no time in his questioning. + +Her answer came with equal quickness, "All is dark. I hear water +swirling by, level with my ears, and the creaking of wood on wood. +Cattle low far off. There is another sound, a queer one like . . ." +She stopped and grew white, and whiter still. + +"Go on, go on! Speak, I command you!" said Van Helsing in an agonized +voice. At the same time there was despair in his eyes, for the risen +sun was reddening even Mrs. Harker's pale face. She opened her eyes, +and we all started as she said, sweetly and seemingly with the utmost +unconcern. + +"Oh, Professor, why ask me to do what you know I can't? I don't +remember anything." Then, seeing the look of amazement on our faces, +she said, turning from one to the other with a troubled look, "What +have I said? What have I done? I know nothing, only that I was lying +here, half asleep, and heard you say 'go on! speak, I command you!' It +seemed so funny to hear you order me about, as if I were a bad child!" + +"Oh, Madam Mina," he said, sadly, "it is proof, if proof be needed, of +how I love and honour you, when a word for your good, spoken more +earnest than ever, can seem so strange because it is to order her whom +I am proud to obey!" + +The whistles are sounding. We are nearing Galatz. We are on fire +with anxiety and eagerness. + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +30 October.--Mr. Morris took me to the hotel where our rooms had been +ordered by telegraph, he being the one who could best be spared, since +he does not speak any foreign language. The forces were distributed +much as they had been at Varna, except that Lord Godalming went to the +Vice Consul, as his rank might serve as an immediate guarantee of some +sort to the official, we being in extreme hurry. Jonathan and the two +doctors went to the shipping agent to learn particulars of the arrival +of the Czarina Catherine. + + +Later.--Lord Godalming has returned. The Consul is away, and the Vice +Consul sick. So the routine work has been attended to by a clerk. He +was very obliging, and offered to do anything in his power. + + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +30 October.--At nine o'clock Dr. Van Helsing, Dr. Seward, and I called +on Messrs. Mackenzie & Steinkoff, the agents of the London firm of +Hapgood. They had received a wire from London, in answer to Lord +Godalming's telegraphed request, asking them to show us any civility +in their power. They were more than kind and courteous, and took us +at once on board the Czarina Catherine, which lay at anchor out in the +river harbor. There we saw the Captain, Donelson by name, who told us +of his voyage. He said that in all his life he had never had so +favourable a run. + +"Man!" he said, "but it made us afeard, for we expect it that we +should have to pay for it wi' some rare piece o' ill luck, so as to +keep up the average. It's no canny to run frae London to the Black +Sea wi' a wind ahint ye, as though the Deil himself were blawin' on +yer sail for his ain purpose. An' a' the time we could no speer a +thing. Gin we were nigh a ship, or a port, or a headland, a fog fell +on us and travelled wi' us, till when after it had lifted and we +looked out, the deil a thing could we see. We ran by Gibraltar wi' +oot bein' able to signal. An' til we came to the Dardanelles and had +to wait to get our permit to pass, we never were within hail o' +aught. At first I inclined to slack off sail and beat about till the +fog was lifted. But whiles, I thocht that if the Deil was minded to +get us into the Black Sea quick, he was like to do it whether we would +or no. If we had a quick voyage it would be no to our miscredit +wi' the owners, or no hurt to our traffic, an' the Old Mon who had +served his ain purpose wad be decently grateful to us for no hinderin' +him." + +This mixture of simplicity and cunning, of superstition and commercial +reasoning, aroused Van Helsing, who said, "Mine friend, that Devil is +more clever than he is thought by some, and he know when he meet his +match!" + +The skipper was not displeased with the compliment, and went on, "When +we got past the Bosphorus the men began to grumble. Some o' them, the +Roumanians, came and asked me to heave overboard a big box which had +been put on board by a queer lookin' old man just before we had +started frae London. I had seen them speer at the fellow, and put out +their twa fingers when they saw him, to guard them against the evil +eye. Man! but the supersteetion of foreigners is pairfectly +rideeculous! I sent them aboot their business pretty quick, but as +just after a fog closed in on us I felt a wee bit as they did anent +something, though I wouldn't say it was again the big box. Well, on +we went, and as the fog didn't let up for five days I joost let the +wind carry us, for if the Deil wanted to get somewheres, well, he +would fetch it up a'reet. An' if he didn't, well, we'd keep a sharp +lookout anyhow. Sure eneuch, we had a fair way and deep water all the +time. And two days ago, when the mornin' sun came through the fog, we +found ourselves just in the river opposite Galatz. The Roumanians +were wild, and wanted me right or wrong to take out the box and fling +it in the river. I had to argy wi' them aboot it wi' a handspike. An' +when the last o' them rose off the deck wi' his head in his hand, I +had convinced them that, evil eye or no evil eye, the property and the +trust of my owners were better in my hands than in the river Danube. +They had, mind ye, taken the box on the deck ready to fling in, and as +it was marked Galatz via Varna, I thocht I'd let it lie till we +discharged in the port an' get rid o't althegither. We didn't do much +clearin' that day, an' had to remain the nicht at anchor. But in the +mornin', braw an' airly, an hour before sunup, a man came aboard wi' +an order, written to him from England, to receive a box marked for one +Count Dracula. Sure eneuch the matter was one ready to his hand. He +had his papers a' reet, an' glad I was to be rid o' the dam' thing, +for I was beginnin' masel' to feel uneasy at it. If the Deil did have +any luggage aboord the ship, I'm thinkin' it was nane ither than that +same!" + +"What was the name of the man who took it?" asked Dr. Van Helsing with +restrained eagerness. + +"I'll be tellin' ye quick!" he answered, and stepping down to his +cabin, produced a receipt signed "Immanuel Hildesheim." Burgen-strasse +16 was the address. We found out that this was all the Captain knew, +so with thanks we came away. + +We found Hildesheim in his office, a Hebrew of rather the Adelphi +Theatre type, with a nose like a sheep, and a fez. His arguments were +pointed with specie, we doing the punctuation, and with a little +bargaining he told us what he knew. This turned out to be simple but +important. He had received a letter from Mr. de Ville of London, +telling him to receive, if possible before sunrise so as to avoid +customs, a box which would arrive at Galatz in the Czarina Catherine. +This he was to give in charge to a certain Petrof Skinsky, who dealt +with the Slovaks who traded down the river to the port. He had been +paid for his work by an English bank note, which had been duly cashed +for gold at the Danube International Bank. When Skinsky had come to +him, he had taken him to the ship and handed over the box, so as to +save porterage. That was all he knew. + +We then sought for Skinsky, but were unable to find him. One of his +neighbors, who did not seem to bear him any affection, said that he +had gone away two days before, no one knew whither. This was +corroborated by his landlord, who had received by messenger the key of +the house together with the rent due, in English money. This had been +between ten and eleven o'clock last night. We were at a standstill +again. + +Whilst we were talking one came running and breathlessly gasped out +that the body of Skinsky had been found inside the wall of the +churchyard of St. Peter, and that the throat had been torn open as if +by some wild animal. Those we had been speaking with ran off to see +the horror, the women crying out. "This is the work of a Slovak!" We +hurried away lest we should have been in some way drawn into the +affair, and so detained. + +As we came home we could arrive at no definite conclusion. We were +all convinced that the box was on its way, by water, to somewhere, but +where that might be we would have to discover. With heavy hearts we +came home to the hotel to Mina. + +When we met together, the first thing was to consult as to taking Mina +again into our confidence. Things are getting desperate, and it is at +least a chance, though a hazardous one. As a preliminary step, I was +released from my promise to her. + + + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +30 October, evening.--They were so tired and worn out and dispirited +that there was nothing to be done till they had some rest, so I asked +them all to lie down for half an hour whilst I should enter everything +up to the moment. I feel so grateful to the man who invented the +"Traveller's" typewriter, and to Mr. Morris for getting this one for +me. I should have felt quite astray doing the work if I had to write +with a pen . . . + +It is all done. Poor dear, dear Jonathan, what he must have suffered, +what he must be suffering now. He lies on the sofa hardly seeming to +breathe, and his whole body appears in collapse. His brows are knit. +His face is drawn with pain. Poor fellow, maybe he is thinking, and I +can see his face all wrinkled up with the concentration of his +thoughts. Oh! if I could only help at all. I shall do what I can. + +I have asked Dr. Van Helsing, and he has got me all the papers that I +have not yet seen. Whilst they are resting, I shall go over all +carefully, and perhaps I may arrive at some conclusion. I shall try +to follow the Professor's example, and think without prejudice on the +facts before me . . . + +I do believe that under God's providence I have made a discovery. I +shall get the maps and look over them. + +I am more than ever sure that I am right. My new conclusion is ready, +so I shall get our party together and read it. They can judge it. It +is well to be accurate, and every minute is precious. + + + +MINA HARKER'S MEMORANDUM + +(ENTERED IN HER JOURNAL) + + +Ground of inquiry.--Count Dracula's problem is to get back +to his own place. + +(a) He must be brought back by some one. This is evident; +for had he power to move himself as he wished he could go +either as man, or wolf, or bat, or in some other way. He +evidently fears discovery or interference, in the state of +helplessness in which he must be, confined as he is between +dawn and sunset in his wooden box. + +(b) How is he to be taken?--Here a process of exclusions may +help us. By road, by rail, by water? + +1. By Road.--There are endless difficulties, especially in +leaving the city. + +(x) There are people. And people are curious, and +investigate. A hint, a surmise, a doubt as to what might +be in the box, would destroy him. + +(y) There are, or there may be, customs and octroi officers +to pass. + +(z) His pursuers might follow. This is his highest fear. +And in order to prevent his being betrayed he has repelled, +so far as he can, even his victim, me! + +2. By Rail.--There is no one in charge of the box. It +would have to take its chance of being delayed, and delay +would be fatal, with enemies on the track. True, he might +escape at night. But what would he be, if left in a strange +place with no refuge that he could fly to? This is not what he +intends, and he does not mean to risk it. + +3. By Water.--Here is the safest way, in one respect, but +with most danger in another. On the water he is powerless +except at night. Even then he can only summon fog and storm and +snow and his wolves. But were he wrecked, the living water would +engulf him, helpless, and he would indeed be lost. He could have +the vessel drive to land, but if it were unfriendly land, wherein +he was not free to move, his position would still be desperate. + +We know from the record that he was on the water, so what +we have to do is to ascertain what water. + +The first thing is to realize exactly what he has done as +yet. We may, then, get a light on what his task is to be. + +Firstly.--We must differentiate between what he did in +London as part of his general plan of action, when he was +pressed for moments and had to arrange as best he could. + +Secondly.--We must see, as well as we can surmise it from the +facts we know of, what he has done here. + +As to the first, he evidently intended to arrive at Galatz, +and sent invoice to Varna to deceive us lest we should ascertain +his means of exit from England. His immediate and sole purpose +then was to escape. The proof of this, is the letter of +instructions sent to Immanuel Hildesheim to clear and take away +the box before sunrise. There is also the instruction to Petrof +Skinsky. These we must only guess at, but there must have been +some letter or message, since Skinsky came to Hildesheim. + +That, so far, his plans were successful we know. The Czarina +Catherine made a phenomenally quick journey. So much so that +Captain Donelson's suspicions were aroused. But his superstition +united with his canniness played the Count's game for him, and he +ran with his favouring wind through fogs and all till he brought +up blindfold at Galatz. That the Count's arrangements were well +made, has been proved. Hildesheim cleared the box, took it off, +and gave it to Skinsky. Skinsky took it, and here we lose the +trail. We only know that the box is somewhere on the water, +moving along. The customs and the octroi, if there be any, have +been avoided. + +Now we come to what the Count must have done after his +arrival, on land, at Galatz. + +The box was given to Skinsky before sunrise. At sunrise +the Count could appear in his own form. Here, we ask why +Skinsky was chosen at all to aid in the work? In my husband's +diary, Skinsky is mentioned as dealing with the Slovaks who trade +down the river to the port. And the man's remark, that the +murder was the work of a Slovak, showed the general feeling +against his class. The Count wanted isolation. + +My surmise is this, that in London the Count decided to get +back to his castle by water, as the most safe and secret +way. He was brought from the castle by Szgany, and probably they +delivered their cargo to Slovaks who took the boxes to Varna, for +there they were shipped to London. Thus the Count had knowledge +of the persons who could arrange this service. When the box was +on land, before sunrise or after sunset, he came out from his +box, met Skinsky and instructed him what to do as to arranging +the carriage of the box up some river. When this was done, and +he knew that all was in train, he blotted out his traces, as he +thought, by murdering his agent. + +I have examined the map and find that the river most +suitable for the Slovaks to have ascended is either the +Pruth or the Sereth. I read in the typescript that in my +trance I heard cows low and water swirling level with my +ears and the creaking of wood. The Count in his box, then, +was on a river in an open boat, propelled probably either +by oars or poles, for the banks are near and it is working +against stream. There would be no such if floating down +stream. + +Of course it may not be either the Sereth or the Pruth, but +we may possibly investigate further. Now of these two, the +Pruth is the more easily navigated, but the Sereth is, at +Fundu, joined by the Bistritza which runs up round the Borgo +Pass. The loop it makes is manifestly as close to Dracula's +castle as can be got by water. + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL--CONTINUED + +When I had done reading, Jonathan took me in his arms and kissed me. +The others kept shaking me by both hands, and Dr. Van Helsing said, +"Our dear Madam Mina is once more our teacher. Her eyes have been +where we were blinded. Now we are on the track once again, and this +time we may succeed. Our enemy is at his most helpless. And if we +can come on him by day, on the water, our task will be over. He has a +start, but he is powerless to hasten, as he may not leave this box +lest those who carry him may suspect. For them to suspect would be to +prompt them to throw him in the stream where he perish. This he +knows, and will not. Now men, to our Council of War, for here and +now, we must plan what each and all shall do." + +"I shall get a steam launch and follow him," said Lord Godalming. + +"And I, horses to follow on the bank lest by chance he land," said Mr. +Morris. + +"Good!" said the Professor, "both good. But neither must go alone. +There must be force to overcome force if need be. The Slovak is +strong and rough, and he carries rude arms." All the men smiled, for +amongst them they carried a small arsenal. + +Said Mr. Morris, "I have brought some Winchesters. They are pretty +handy in a crowd, and there may be wolves. The Count, if you +remember, took some other precautions. He made some requisitions on +others that Mrs. Harker could not quite hear or understand. We must +be ready at all points." + +Dr. Seward said, "I think I had better go with Quincey. We have been +accustomed to hunt together, and we two, well armed, will be a match +for whatever may come along. You must not be alone, Art. It may be +necessary to fight the Slovaks, and a chance thrust, for I don't +suppose these fellows carry guns, would undo all our plans. There +must be no chances, this time. We shall not rest until the Count's +head and body have been separated, and we are sure that he cannot +reincarnate." + +He looked at Jonathan as he spoke, and Jonathan looked at me. I could +see that the poor dear was torn about in his mind. Of course he +wanted to be with me. But then the boat service would, most likely, +be the one which would destroy the . . . the . . . Vampire. (Why did +I hesitate to write the word?) + +He was silent awhile, and during his silence Dr. Van Helsing spoke, +"Friend Jonathan, this is to you for twice reasons. First, because +you are young and brave and can fight, and all energies may be needed +at the last. And again that it is your right to destroy him. That, +which has wrought such woe to you and yours. Be not afraid for Madam +Mina. She will be my care, if I may. I am old. My legs are not so +quick to run as once. And I am not used to ride so long or to pursue +as need be, or to fight with lethal weapons. But I can be of other +service. I can fight in other way. And I can die, if need be, as +well as younger men. Now let me say that what I would is this. While +you, my Lord Godalming and friend Jonathan go in your so swift little +steamboat up the river, and whilst John and Quincey guard the bank +where perchance he might be landed, I will take Madam Mina right into +the heart of the enemy's country. Whilst the old fox is tied in his +box, floating on the running stream whence he cannot escape to land, +where he dares not raise the lid of his coffin box lest his Slovak +carriers should in fear leave him to perish, we shall go in the track +where Jonathan went, from Bistritz over the Borgo, and find our way to +the Castle of Dracula. Here, Madam Mina's hypnotic power will surely +help, and we shall find our way, all dark and unknown otherwise, after +the first sunrise when we are near that fateful place. There is much +to be done, and other places to be made sanctify, so that that nest of +vipers be obliterated." + +Here Jonathan interrupted him hotly, "Do you mean to say, Professor +Van Helsing, that you would bring Mina, in her sad case and tainted as +she is with that devil's illness, right into the jaws of his +deathtrap? Not for the world! Not for Heaven or Hell!" + +He became almost speechless for a minute, and then went on, "Do you +know what the place is? Have you seen that awful den of hellish +infamy, with the very moonlight alive with grisly shapes, and every +speck of dust that whirls in the wind a devouring monster in embryo? +Have you felt the Vampire's lips upon your throat?" + +Here he turned to me, and as his eyes lit on my forehead he threw up +his arms with a cry, "Oh, my God, what have we done to have this +terror upon us?" and he sank down on the sofa in a collapse of misery. + +The Professor's voice, as he spoke in clear, sweet tones, which seemed +to vibrate in the air, calmed us all. + +"Oh, my friend, it is because I would save Madam Mina from that awful +place that I would go. God forbid that I should take her into that +place. There is work, wild work, to be done before that place can be +purify. Remember that we are in terrible straits. If the Count +escape us this time, and he is strong and subtle and cunning, he may +choose to sleep him for a century, and then in time our dear one," he +took my hand, "would come to him to keep him company, and would be as +those others that you, Jonathan, saw. You have told us of their +gloating lips. You heard their ribald laugh as they clutched the +moving bag that the Count threw to them. You shudder, and well may it +be. Forgive me that I make you so much pain, but it is necessary. My +friend, is it not a dire need for that which I am giving, possibly my +life? If it were that any one went into that place to stay, it is I +who would have to go to keep them company." + +"Do as you will," said Jonathan, with a sob that shook him all over, +"we are in the hands of God!" + + +Later.--Oh, it did me good to see the way that these brave men worked. +How can women help loving men when they are so earnest, and so true, +and so brave! And, too, it made me think of the wonderful power of +money! What can it not do when basely used. I felt so thankful that +Lord Godalming is rich, and both he and Mr. Morris, who also has +plenty of money, are willing to spend it so freely. For if they did +not, our little expedition could not start, either so promptly or so +well equipped, as it will within another hour. It is not three hours +since it was arranged what part each of us was to do. And now Lord +Godalming and Jonathan have a lovely steam launch, with steam up ready +to start at a moment's notice. Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris have half a +dozen good horses, well appointed. We have all the maps and +appliances of various kinds that can be had. Professor Van Helsing +and I are to leave by the 11:40 train tonight for Veresti, where we +are to get a carriage to drive to the Borgo Pass. We are bringing a +good deal of ready money, as we are to buy a carriage and horses. We +shall drive ourselves, for we have no one whom we can trust in the +matter. The Professor knows something of a great many languages, so +we shall get on all right. We have all got arms, even for me a large +bore revolver. Jonathan would not be happy unless I was armed like +the rest. Alas! I cannot carry one arm that the rest do, the scar on +my forehead forbids that. Dear Dr. Van Helsing comforts me by telling +me that I am fully armed as there may be wolves. The weather is +getting colder every hour, and there are snow flurries which come and +go as warnings. + + +Later.--It took all my courage to say goodbye to my darling. We may +never meet again. Courage, Mina! The Professor is looking at you +keenly. His look is a warning. There must be no tears now, unless it +may be that God will let them fall in gladness. + + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +30 October, night.--I am writing this in the light from the furnace +door of the steam launch. Lord Godalming is firing up. He is an +experienced hand at the work, as he has had for years a launch of his +own on the Thames, and another on the Norfolk Broads. Regarding our +plans, we finally decided that Mina's guess was correct, and that if +any waterway was chosen for the Count's escape back to his Castle, the +Sereth and then the Bistritza at its junction, would be the one. We +took it, that somewhere about the 47th degree, north latitude, would +be the place chosen for crossing the country between the river and the +Carpathians. We have no fear in running at good speed up the river at +night. There is plenty of water, and the banks are wide enough apart +to make steaming, even in the dark, easy enough. Lord Godalming tells +me to sleep for a while, as it is enough for the present for one to be +on watch. But I cannot sleep, how can I with the terrible danger +hanging over my darling, and her going out into that awful place . . . + +My only comfort is that we are in the hands of God. Only for that +faith it would be easier to die than to live, and so be quit of all +the trouble. Mr. Morris and Dr. Seward were off on their long ride +before we started. They are to keep up the right bank, far enough off +to get on higher lands where they can see a good stretch of river and +avoid the following of its curves. They have, for the first stages, +two men to ride and lead their spare horses, four in all, so as not to +excite curiosity. When they dismiss the men, which shall be shortly, +they shall themselves look after the horses. It may be necessary for +us to join forces. If so they can mount our whole party. One of the +saddles has a moveable horn, and can be easily adapted for Mina, if +required. + +It is a wild adventure we are on. Here, as we are rushing along +through the darkness, with the cold from the river seeming to rise up +and strike us, with all the mysterious voices of the night around us, +it all comes home. We seem to be drifting into unknown places and +unknown ways. Into a whole world of dark and dreadful things. +Godalming is shutting the furnace door . . . + + +31 October.--Still hurrying along. The day has come, and Godalming is +sleeping. I am on watch. The morning is bitterly cold, the furnace +heat is grateful, though we have heavy fur coats. As yet we have +passed only a few open boats, but none of them had on board any box or +package of anything like the size of the one we seek. The men were +scared every time we turned our electric lamp on them, and fell on +their knees and prayed. + + +1 November, evening.--No news all day. We have found nothing of the +kind we seek. We have now passed into the Bistritza, and if we are +wrong in our surmise our chance is gone. We have overhauled every +boat, big and little. Early this morning, one crew took us for a +Government boat, and treated us accordingly. We saw in this a way of +smoothing matters, so at Fundu, where the Bistritza runs into the +Sereth, we got a Roumanian flag which we now fly conspicuously. With +every boat which we have overhauled since then this trick has +succeeded. We have had every deference shown to us, and not once any +objection to whatever we chose to ask or do. Some of the Slovaks tell +us that a big boat passed them, going at more than usual speed as she +had a double crew on board. This was before they came to Fundu, so +they could not tell us whether the boat turned into the Bistritza or +continued on up the Sereth. At Fundu we could not hear of any such +boat, so she must have passed there in the night. I am feeling very +sleepy. The cold is perhaps beginning to tell upon me, and nature +must have rest some time. Godalming insists that he shall keep the +first watch. God bless him for all his goodness to poor dear Mina and +me. + + +2 November, morning.--It is broad daylight. That good fellow would +not wake me. He says it would have been a sin to, for I slept +peacefully and was forgetting my trouble. It seems brutally selfish +to me to have slept so long, and let him watch all night, but he was +quite right. I am a new man this morning. And, as I sit here and +watch him sleeping, I can do all that is necessary both as to minding +the engine, steering, and keeping watch. I can feel that my strength +and energy are coming back to me. I wonder where Mina is now, and Van +Helsing. They should have got to Veresti about noon on Wednesday. It +would take them some time to get the carriage and horses. So if they +had started and travelled hard, they would be about now at the Borgo +Pass. God guide and help them! I am afraid to think what may +happen. If we could only go faster. But we cannot. The engines are +throbbing and doing their utmost. I wonder how Dr. Seward and Mr. +Morris are getting on. There seem to be endless streams running down +the mountains into this river, but as none of them are very large, at +present, at all events, though they are doubtless terrible in winter +and when the snow melts, the horsemen may not have met much +obstruction. I hope that before we get to Strasba we may see them. +For if by that time we have not overtaken the Count, it may be +necessary to take counsel together what to do next. + + + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +2 November.--Three days on the road. No news, and no time to write it +if there had been, for every moment is precious. We have had only the +rest needful for the horses. But we are both bearing it wonderfully. +Those adventurous days of ours are turning up useful. We must push +on. We shall never feel happy till we get the launch in sight again. + + +3 November.--We heard at Fundu that the launch had gone up the +Bistritza. I wish it wasn't so cold. There are signs of snow coming. +And if it falls heavy it will stop us. In such case we must get a +sledge and go on, Russian fashion. + +4 November.--Today we heard of the launch having been detained by an +accident when trying to force a way up the rapids. The Slovak boats +get up all right, by aid of a rope and steering with knowledge. Some +went up only a few hours before. Godalming is an amateur fitter +himself, and evidently it was he who put the launch in trim again. + +Finally, they got up the rapids all right, with local help, and are off +on the chase afresh. I fear that the boat is not any better for the +accident, the peasantry tell us that after she got upon smooth water +again, she kept stopping every now and again so long as she was in +sight. We must push on harder than ever. Our help may be wanted +soon. + + + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +31 October.--Arrived at Veresti at noon. The Professor tells me that +this morning at dawn he could hardly hypnotize me at all, and that all +I could say was, "dark and quiet." He is off now buying a carriage +and horses. He says that he will later on try to buy additional +horses, so that we may be able to change them on the way. We have +something more than 70 miles before us. The country is lovely, and +most interesting. If only we were under different conditions, how +delightful it would be to see it all. If Jonathan and I were driving +through it alone what a pleasure it would be. To stop and see people, +and learn something of their life, and to fill our minds and memories +with all the colour and picturesqueness of the whole wild, beautiful +country and the quaint people! But, alas! + + +Later.--Dr. Van Helsing has returned. He has got the carriage and +horses. We are to have some dinner, and to start in an hour. The +landlady is putting us up a huge basket of provisions. It seems +enough for a company of soldiers. The Professor encourages her, and +whispers to me that it may be a week before we can get any food again. +He has been shopping too, and has sent home such a wonderful lot of +fur coats and wraps, and all sorts of warm things. There will not be +any chance of our being cold. + +We shall soon be off. I am afraid to think what may happen to us. We +are truly in the hands of God. He alone knows what may be, and I pray +Him, with all the strength of my sad and humble soul, that He will +watch over my beloved husband. That whatever may happen, Jonathan may +know that I loved him and honoured him more than I can say, and that my +latest and truest thought will be always for him. + + + + +CHAPTER 27 + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +1 November.--All day long we have travelled, and at a good speed. The +horses seem to know that they are being kindly treated, for they go +willingly their full stage at best speed. We have now had so many +changes and find the same thing so constantly that we are encouraged +to think that the journey will be an easy one. Dr. Van Helsing is +laconic, he tells the farmers that he is hurrying to Bistritz, and +pays them well to make the exchange of horses. We get hot soup, or +coffee, or tea, and off we go. It is a lovely country. Full of +beauties of all imaginable kinds, and the people are brave, and +strong, and simple, and seem full of nice qualities. They are very, +very superstitious. In the first house where we stopped, when the +woman who served us saw the scar on my forehead, she crossed herself +and put out two fingers towards me, to keep off the evil eye. I +believe they went to the trouble of putting an extra amount of garlic +into our food, and I can't abide garlic. Ever since then I have taken +care not to take off my hat or veil, and so have escaped their +suspicions. We are travelling fast, and as we have no driver with us +to carry tales, we go ahead of scandal. But I daresay that fear of +the evil eye will follow hard behind us all the way. The Professor +seems tireless. All day he would not take any rest, though he made me +sleep for a long spell. At sunset time he hypnotized me, and he says +I answered as usual, "darkness, lapping water and creaking wood." So +our enemy is still on the river. I am afraid to think of Jonathan, +but somehow I have now no fear for him, or for myself. I write this +whilst we wait in a farmhouse for the horses to be ready. Dr. Van +Helsing is sleeping. Poor dear, he looks very tired and old and grey, +but his mouth is set as firmly as a conqueror's. Even in his sleep he +is intense with resolution. When we have well started I must make him +rest whilst I drive. I shall tell him that we have days before us, +and he must not break down when most of all his strength will be +needed . . . All is ready. We are off shortly. + + +2 November, morning.--I was successful, and we took turns driving all +night. Now the day is on us, bright though cold. There is a strange +heaviness in the air. I say heaviness for want of a better word. I +mean that it oppresses us both. It is very cold, and only our warm +furs keep us comfortable. At dawn Van Helsing hypnotized me. He says +I answered "darkness, creaking wood and roaring water," so the river +is changing as they ascend. I do hope that my darling will not run +any chance of danger, more than need be, but we are in God's hands. + + +2 November, night.--All day long driving. The country gets wilder as +we go, and the great spurs of the Carpathians, which at Veresti seemed +so far from us and so low on the horizon, now seem to gather round us +and tower in front. We both seem in good spirits. I think we make an +effort each to cheer the other, in the doing so we cheer ourselves. +Dr. Van Helsing says that by morning we shall reach the Borgo Pass. +The houses are very few here now, and the Professor says that the last +horse we got will have to go on with us, as we may not be able to +change. He got two in addition to the two we changed, so that now we +have a rude four-in-hand. The dear horses are patient and good, and +they give us no trouble. We are not worried with other travellers, +and so even I can drive. We shall get to the Pass in daylight. We do +not want to arrive before. So we take it easy, and have each a long +rest in turn. Oh, what will tomorrow bring to us? We go to seek the +place where my poor darling suffered so much. God grant that we may +be guided aright, and that He will deign to watch over my husband and +those dear to us both, and who are in such deadly peril. As for me, I +am not worthy in His sight. Alas! I am unclean to His eyes, and +shall be until He may deign to let me stand forth in His sight as one +of those who have not incurred His wrath. + + + + + +MEMORANDUM BY ABRAHAM VAN HELSING + +4 November.--This to my old and true friend John Seward, M.D., +of Purfleet, London, in case I may not see him. It may +explain. It is morning, and I write by a fire which all +the night I have kept alive, Madam Mina aiding me. It is +cold, cold. So cold that the grey heavy sky is full of +snow, which when it falls will settle for all winter as the +ground is hardening to receive it. It seems to have affected +Madam Mina. She has been so heavy of head all day that she was +not like herself. She sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps! She who +is usual so alert, have done literally nothing all the day. She +even have lost her appetite. She make no entry into her little +diary, she who write so faithful at every pause. Something +whisper to me that all is not well. However, tonight she is more +_vif_. Her long sleep all day have refresh and restore her, for +now she is all sweet and bright as ever. At sunset I try to +hypnotize her, but alas! with no effect. The power has grown +less and less with each day, and tonight it fail me altogether. +Well, God's will be done, whatever it may be, and whithersoever +it may lead! + +Now to the historical, for as Madam Mina write not in her +stenography, I must, in my cumbrous old fashion, that so +each day of us may not go unrecorded. + +We got to the Borgo Pass just after sunrise yesterday +morning. When I saw the signs of the dawn I got ready for +the hypnotism. We stopped our carriage, and got down so +that there might be no disturbance. I made a couch with +furs, and Madam Mina, lying down, yield herself as usual, +but more slow and more short time than ever, to the hypnotic +sleep. As before, came the answer, "darkness and the swirling of +water." Then she woke, bright and radiant and we go on our way +and soon reach the Pass. At this time and place, she become all +on fire with zeal. Some new guiding power be in her manifested, +for she point to a road and say, "This is the way." + +"How know you it?" I ask. + +"Of course I know it," she answer, and with a pause, add, +"Have not my Jonathan travelled it and wrote of his travel?" + +At first I think somewhat strange, but soon I see that there be +only one such byroad. It is used but little, and very different +from the coach road from the Bukovina to Bistritz, which is more +wide and hard, and more of use. + +So we came down this road. When we meet other ways, not +always were we sure that they were roads at all, for they +be neglect and light snow have fallen, the horses know and +they only. I give rein to them, and they go on so patient. By +and by we find all the things which Jonathan have note in that +wonderful diary of him. Then we go on for long, long hours and +hours. At the first, I tell Madam Mina to sleep. She try, and +she succeed. She sleep all the time, till at the last, I feel +myself to suspicious grow, and attempt to wake her. But she +sleep on, and I may not wake her though I try. I do not wish to +try too hard lest I harm her. For I know that she have suffer +much, and sleep at times be all-in-all to her. I think I drowse +myself, for all of sudden I feel guilt, as though I have done +something. I find myself bolt up, with the reins in my hand, and +the good horses go along jog, jog, just as ever. I look down and +find Madam Mina still asleep. It is now not far off sunset time, +and over the snow the light of the sun flow in big yellow flood, +so that we throw great long shadow on where the mountain rise so +steep. For we are going up, and up, and all is oh so wild and +rocky, as though it were the end of the world. + +Then I arouse Madam Mina. This time she wake with not much +trouble, and then I try to put her to hypnotic sleep. But +she sleep not, being as though I were not. Still I try and +try, till all at once I find her and myself in dark, so I +look round, and find that the sun have gone down. Madam +Mina laugh, and I turn and look at her. She is now quite +awake, and look so well as I never saw her since that night +at Carfax when we first enter the Count's house. I am amaze, and +not at ease then. But she is so bright and tender and thoughtful +for me that I forget all fear. I light a fire, for we have +brought supply of wood with us, and she prepare food while I undo +the horses and set them, tethered in shelter, to feed. Then when +I return to the fire she have my supper ready. I go to help her, +but she smile, and tell me that she have eat already. That she +was so hungry that she would not wait. I like it not, and I have +grave doubts. But I fear to affright her, and so I am silent of +it. She help me and I eat alone, and then we wrap in fur and lie +beside the fire, and I tell her to sleep while I watch. But +presently I forget all of watching. And when I sudden remember +that I watch, I find her lying quiet, but awake, and looking at +me with so bright eyes. Once, twice more the same occur, and I +get much sleep till before morning. When I wake I try to +hypnotize her, but alas! though she shut her eyes obedient, she +may not sleep. The sun rise up, and up, and up, and then sleep +come to her too late, but so heavy that she will not wake. I +have to lift her up, and place her sleeping in the carriage when +I have harnessed the horses and made all ready. Madam still +sleep, and she look in her sleep more healthy and more redder +than before. And I like it not. And I am afraid, afraid, +afraid! I am afraid of all things, even to think but I must go +on my way. The stake we play for is life and death, or more than +these, and we must not flinch. + + +5 November, morning.--Let me be accurate in everything, for +though you and I have seen some strange things together, +you may at the first think that I, Van Helsing, am mad. +That the many horrors and the so long strain on nerves has +at the last turn my brain. + +All yesterday we travel, always getting closer to the +mountains, and moving into a more and more wild and desert +land. There are great, frowning precipices and much falling +water, and Nature seem to have held sometime her carnival. Madam +Mina still sleep and sleep. And though I did have hunger and +appeased it, I could not waken her, even for food. I began to +fear that the fatal spell of the place was upon her, tainted as +she is with that Vampire baptism. "Well," said I to myself, "if +it be that she sleep all the day, it shall also be that I do not +sleep at night." As we travel on the rough road, for a road of +an ancient and imperfect kind there was, I held down my head and +slept. + +Again I waked with a sense of guilt and of time passed, and +found Madam Mina still sleeping, and the sun low down. But +all was indeed changed. The frowning mountains seemed further +away, and we were near the top of a steep rising hill, on summit +of which was such a castle as Jonathan tell of in his diary. At +once I exulted and feared. For now, for good or ill, the end was +near. + +I woke Madam Mina, and again tried to hypnotize her, but +alas! unavailing till too late. Then, ere the great dark +came upon us, for even after down sun the heavens reflected +the gone sun on the snow, and all was for a time in a great +twilight. I took out the horses and fed them in what shelter I +could. Then I make a fire, and near it I make Madam Mina, now +awake and more charming than ever, sit comfortable amid her rugs. +I got ready food, but she would not eat, simply saying that she +had not hunger. I did not press her, knowing her unavailingness. +But I myself eat, for I must needs now be strong for all. Then, +with the fear on me of what might be, I drew a ring so big for +her comfort, round where Madam Mina sat. And over the ring I +passed some of the wafer, and I broke it fine so that all was +well guarded. She sat still all the time, so still as one dead. +And she grew whiter and even whiter till the snow was not more +pale, and no word she said. But when I drew near, she clung to +me, and I could know that the poor soul shook her from head to +feet with a tremor that was pain to feel. + +I said to her presently, when she had grown more quiet, +"Will you not come over to the fire?" for I wished to make +a test of what she could. She rose obedient, but when she +have made a step she stopped, and stood as one stricken. + +"Why not go on?" I asked. She shook her head, and coming +back, sat down in her place. Then, looking at me with open +eyes, as of one waked from sleep, she said simply, "I cannot!" +and remained silent. I rejoiced, for I knew that what she could +not, none of those that we dreaded could. Though there might be +danger to her body, yet her soul was safe! + +Presently the horses began to scream, and tore at their +tethers till I came to them and quieted them. When they +did feel my hands on them, they whinnied low as in joy, and +licked at my hands and were quiet for a time. Many times +through the night did I come to them, till it arrive to the +cold hour when all nature is at lowest, and every time my +coming was with quiet of them. In the cold hour the fire +began to die, and I was about stepping forth to replenish +it, for now the snow came in flying sweeps and with it a +chill mist. Even in the dark there was a light of some +kind, as there ever is over snow, and it seemed as though +the snow flurries and the wreaths of mist took shape as of +women with trailing garments. All was in dead, grim silence only +that the horses whinnied and cowered, as if in terror of the +worst. I began to fear, horrible fears. But then came to me the +sense of safety in that ring wherein I stood. I began too, to +think that my imaginings were of the night, and the gloom, and +the unrest that I have gone through, and all the terrible +anxiety. It was as though my memories of all Jonathan's horrid +experience were befooling me. For the snow flakes and the mist +began to wheel and circle round, till I could get as though a +shadowy glimpse of those women that would have kissed him. And +then the horses cowered lower and lower, and moaned in terror as +men do in pain. Even the madness of fright was not to them, so +that they could break away. I feared for my dear Madam Mina when +these weird figures drew near and circled round. I looked at her, +but she sat calm, and smiled at me. When I would have stepped to +the fire to replenish it, she caught me and held me back, and +whispered, like a voice that one hears in a dream, so low it was. + +"No! No! Do not go without. Here you are safe!" + +I turned to her, and looking in her eyes said, "But you? +It is for you that I fear!" + +Whereat she laughed, a laugh low and unreal, and said, "Fear +for me! Why fear for me? None safer in all the world from +them than I am," and as I wondered at the meaning of her +words, a puff of wind made the flame leap up, and I see the +red scar on her forehead. Then, alas! I knew. Did I not, +I would soon have learned, for the wheeling figures of mist +and snow came closer, but keeping ever without the Holy +circle. Then they began to materialize till, if God have +not taken away my reason, for I saw it through my eyes. +There were before me in actual flesh the same three women +that Jonathan saw in the room, when they would have kissed +his throat. I knew the swaying round forms, the bright +hard eyes, the white teeth, the ruddy colour, the voluptuous +lips. They smiled ever at poor dear Madam Mina. And as +their laugh came through the silence of the night, they +twined their arms and pointed to her, and said in those so +sweet tingling tones that Jonathan said were of the intolerable +sweetness of the water glasses, "Come, sister. Come to us. +Come!" + +In fear I turned to my poor Madam Mina, and my heart with +gladness leapt like flame. For oh! the terror in her sweet +eyes, the repulsion, the horror, told a story to my heart +that was all of hope. God be thanked she was not, yet, of +them. I seized some of the firewood which was by me, and +holding out some of the Wafer, advanced on them towards the +fire. They drew back before me, and laughed their low horrid +laugh. I fed the fire, and feared them not. For I knew that we +were safe within the ring, which she could not leave no more than +they could enter. The horses had ceased to moan, and lay still +on the ground. The snow fell on them softly, and they grew +whiter. I knew that there was for the poor beasts no more of +terror. + +And so we remained till the red of the dawn began to fall +through the snow gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and +full of woe and terror. But when that beautiful sun began +to climb the horizon life was to me again. At the first +coming of the dawn the horrid figures melted in the whirling +mist and snow. The wreaths of transparent gloom moved away +towards the castle, and were lost. + +Instinctively, with the dawn coming, I turned to Madam Mina, +intending to hypnotize her. But she lay in a deep and sudden +sleep, from which I could not wake her. I tried to hypnotize +through her sleep, but she made no response, none at all, and the +day broke. I fear yet to stir. I have made my fire and have +seen the horses, they are all dead. Today I have much to do here, +and I keep waiting till the sun is up high. For there may be +places where I must go, where that sunlight, though snow and mist +obscure it, will be to me a safety. + +I will strengthen me with breakfast, and then I will do my +terrible work. Madam Mina still sleeps, and God be thanked! She +is calm in her sleep . . . + + + +JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL + +4 November, evening.--The accident to the launch has been a terrible +thing for us. Only for it we should have overtaken the boat long ago, +and by now my dear Mina would have been free. I fear to think of her, +off on the wolds near that horrid place. We have got horses, and we +follow on the track. I note this whilst Godalming is getting ready. +We have our arms. The Szgany must look out if they mean to fight. Oh, +if only Morris and Seward were with us. We must only hope! If I +write no more Goodby Mina! God bless and keep you. + + + +DR. SEWARD'S DIARY + +5 November.--With the dawn we saw the body of Szgany before us dashing +away from the river with their leiter wagon. They surrounded it in a +cluster, and hurried along as though beset. The snow is falling +lightly and there is a strange excitement in the air. It may be our +own feelings, but the depression is strange. Far off I hear the +howling of wolves. The snow brings them down from the mountains, and +there are dangers to all of us, and from all sides. The horses are +nearly ready, and we are soon off. We ride to death of some one. God +alone knows who, or where, or what, or when, or how it may be . . . + + + + + +DR. VAN HELSING'S MEMORANDUM + +5 November, afternoon.--I am at least sane. Thank God for +that mercy at all events, though the proving it has been +dreadful. When I left Madam Mina sleeping within the Holy +circle, I took my way to the castle. The blacksmith hammer +which I took in the carriage from Veresti was useful, though the +doors were all open I broke them off the rusty hinges, lest some +ill intent or ill chance should close them, so that being entered +I might not get out. Jonathan's bitter experience served me +here. By memory of his diary I found my way to the old chapel, +for I knew that here my work lay. The air was oppressive. It +seemed as if there was some sulphurous fume, which at times made +me dizzy. Either there was a roaring in my ears or I heard afar +off the howl of wolves. Then I bethought me of my dear Madam +Mina, and I was in terrible plight. The dilemma had me between +his horns. + +Her, I had not dare to take into this place, but left safe +from the Vampire in that Holy circle. And yet even there +would be the wolf! I resolve me that my work lay here, and +that as to the wolves we must submit, if it were God's will. At +any rate it was only death and freedom beyond. So did I choose +for her. Had it but been for myself the choice had been easy, +the maw of the wolf were better to rest in than the grave of the +Vampire! So I make my choice to go on with my work. + +I knew that there were at least three graves to find, graves +that are inhabit. So I search, and search, and I find one +of them. She lay in her Vampire sleep, so full of life and +voluptuous beauty that I shudder as though I have come to +do murder. Ah, I doubt not that in the old time, when such +things were, many a man who set forth to do such a task as +mine, found at the last his heart fail him, and then his +nerve. So he delay, and delay, and delay, till the mere +beauty and the fascination of the wanton Undead have hypnotize +him. And he remain on and on, till sunset come, and the Vampire +sleep be over. Then the beautiful eyes of the fair woman open +and look love, and the voluptuous mouth present to a kiss, and +the man is weak. And there remain one more victim in the +Vampire fold. One more to swell the grim and grisly ranks +of the Undead! . . . + +There is some fascination, surely, when I am moved by the +mere presence of such an one, even lying as she lay in a +tomb fretted with age and heavy with the dust of centuries, +though there be that horrid odour such as the lairs of the +Count have had. Yes, I was moved. I, Van Helsing, with +all my purpose and with my motive for hate. I was moved to +a yearning for delay which seemed to paralyze my faculties +and to clog my very soul. It may have been that the need +of natural sleep, and the strange oppression of the air +were beginning to overcome me. Certain it was that I was +lapsing into sleep, the open eyed sleep of one who yields +to a sweet fascination, when there came through the snow-stilled +air a long, low wail, so full of woe and pity that it woke me +like the sound of a clarion. For it was the voice of my dear +Madam Mina that I heard. + +Then I braced myself again to my horrid task, and found by +wrenching away tomb tops one other of the sisters, the other dark +one. I dared not pause to look on her as I had on her sister, +lest once more I should begin to be enthrall. But I go on +searching until, presently, I find in a high great tomb as if +made to one much beloved that other fair sister which, like +Jonathan I had seen to gather herself out of the atoms of the +mist. She was so fair to look on, so radiantly beautiful, so +exquisitely voluptuous, that the very instinct of man in me, +which calls some of my sex to love and to protect one of hers, +made my head whirl with new emotion. But God be thanked, that +soul wail of my dear Madam Mina had not died out of my ears. +And, before the spell could be wrought further upon me, I had +nerved myself to my wild work. By this time I had searched all +the tombs in the chapel, so far as I could tell. And as there +had been only three of these Undead phantoms around us in the +night, I took it that there were no more of active Undead +existent. There was one great tomb more lordly than all the +rest. Huge it was, and nobly proportioned. On it was but one +word. + + + DRACULA + + +This then was the Undead home of the King Vampire, to whom +so many more were due. Its emptiness spoke eloquent to +make certain what I knew. Before I began to restore these +women to their dead selves through my awful work, I laid in +Dracula's tomb some of the Wafer, and so banished him from +it, Undead, for ever. + +Then began my terrible task, and I dreaded it. Had it been +but one, it had been easy, comparative. But three! To +begin twice more after I had been through a deed of horror. +For it was terrible with the sweet Miss Lucy, what would it +not be with these strange ones who had survived through +centuries, and who had been strengthened by the passing of +the years. Who would, if they could, have fought for their +foul lives . . . + +Oh, my friend John, but it was butcher work. Had I not +been nerved by thoughts of other dead, and of the living +over whom hung such a pall of fear, I could not have gone +on. I tremble and tremble even yet, though till all was +over, God be thanked, my nerve did stand. Had I not seen +the repose in the first place, and the gladness that stole +over it just ere the final dissolution came, as realization +that the soul had been won, I could not have gone further +with my butchery. I could not have endured the horrid screeching +as the stake drove home, the plunging of writhing form, and lips +of bloody foam. I should have fled in terror and left my work +undone. But it is over! And the poor souls, I can pity them now +and weep, as I think of them placid each in her full sleep of +death for a short moment ere fading. For, friend John, hardly +had my knife severed the head of each, before the whole body +began to melt away and crumble into its native dust, as though +the death that should have come centuries ago had at last assert +himself and say at once and loud, "I am here!" + +Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never +more can the Count enter there Undead. + +When I stepped into the circle where Madam Mina slept, she +woke from her sleep and, seeing me, cried out in pain that +I had endured too much. + +"Come!" she said, "come away from this awful place! Let us +go to meet my husband who is, I know, coming towards us." +She was looking thin and pale and weak. But her eyes were +pure and glowed with fervour. I was glad to see her paleness and +her illness, for my mind was full of the fresh horror of that +ruddy vampire sleep. + +And so with trust and hope, and yet full of fear, we go +eastward to meet our friends, and him, whom Madam Mina tell +me that she know are coming to meet us. + + + + + +MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL + +6 November.--It was late in the afternoon when the Professor and I +took our way towards the east whence I knew Jonathan was coming. We +did not go fast, though the way was steeply downhill, for we had to +take heavy rugs and wraps with us. We dared not face the possibility +of being left without warmth in the cold and the snow. We had to take +some of our provisions too, for we were in a perfect desolation, and +so far as we could see through the snowfall, there was not even the +sign of habitation. When we had gone about a mile, I was tired with +the heavy walking and sat down to rest. Then we looked back and saw +where the clear line of Dracula's castle cut the sky. For we were so +deep under the hill whereon it was set that the angle of perspective +of the Carpathian mountains was far below it. We saw it in all its +grandeur, perched a thousand feet on the summit of a sheer precipice, +and with seemingly a great gap between it and the steep of the +adjacent mountain on any side. There was something wild and uncanny +about the place. We could hear the distant howling of wolves. They +were far off, but the sound, even though coming muffled through the +deadening snowfall, was full of terror. I knew from the way Dr. Van +Helsing was searching about that he was trying to seek some strategic +point, where we would be less exposed in case of attack. The rough +roadway still led downwards. We could trace it through the drifted +snow. + +In a little while the Professor signalled to me, so I got up and +joined him. He had found a wonderful spot, a sort of natural hollow +in a rock, with an entrance like a doorway between two boulders. He +took me by the hand and drew me in. + +"See!" he said, "here you will be in shelter. And if the wolves do +come I can meet them one by one." + +He brought in our furs, and made a snug nest for me, and got out some +provisions and forced them upon me. But I could not eat, to even try +to do so was repulsive to me, and much as I would have liked to please +him, I could not bring myself to the attempt. He looked very sad, but +did not reproach me. Taking his field glasses from the case, he stood +on the top of the rock, and began to search the horizon. + +Suddenly he called out, "Look! Madam Mina, look! Look!" + +I sprang up and stood beside him on the rock. He handed me his +glasses and pointed. The snow was now falling more heavily, and +swirled about fiercely, for a high wind was beginning to blow. +However, there were times when there were pauses between the snow +flurries and I could see a long way round. From the height where we +were it was possible to see a great distance. And far off, beyond the +white waste of snow, I could see the river lying like a black ribbon +in kinks and curls as it wound its way. Straight in front of us and +not far off, in fact so near that I wondered we had not noticed +before, came a group of mounted men hurrying along. In the midst of +them was a cart, a long leiter wagon which swept from side to side, +like a dog's tail wagging, with each stern inequality of the road. +Outlined against the snow as they were, I could see from the men's +clothes that they were peasants or gypsies of some kind. + +On the cart was a great square chest. My heart leaped as I saw it, for +I felt that the end was coming. The evening was now drawing close, +and well I knew that at sunset the Thing, which was till then +imprisoned there, would take new freedom and could in any of many +forms elude pursuit. In fear I turned to the Professor. To my +consternation, however, he was not there. An instant later, I saw him +below me. Round the rock he had drawn a circle, such as we had found +shelter in last night. + +When he had completed it he stood beside me again saying, "At least +you shall be safe here from him!" He took the glasses from me, and at +the next lull of the snow swept the whole space below us. "See," he +said, "they come quickly. They are flogging the horses, and galloping +as hard as they can." + +He paused and went on in a hollow voice, "They are racing for the +sunset. We may be too late. God's will be done!" Down came another +blinding rush of driving snow, and the whole landscape was blotted +out. It soon passed, however, and once more his glasses were fixed on +the plain. + +Then came a sudden cry, "Look! Look! Look! See, two horsemen follow +fast, coming up from the south. It must be Quincey and John. Take +the glass. Look before the snow blots it all out!" I took it and +looked. The two men might be Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris. I knew at +all events that neither of them was Jonathan. At the same time I knew +that Jonathan was not far off. Looking around I saw on the north side +of the coming party two other men, riding at breakneck speed. One of +them I knew was Jonathan, and the other I took, of course, to be Lord +Godalming. They too, were pursuing the party with the cart. When I +told the Professor he shouted in glee like a schoolboy, and after +looking intently till a snow fall made sight impossible, he laid his +Winchester rifle ready for use against the boulder at the opening of +our shelter. + +"They are all converging," he said. "When the time comes we shall have +gypsies on all sides." I got out my revolver ready to hand, for +whilst we were speaking the howling of wolves came louder and closer. +When the snow storm abated a moment we looked again. It was strange +to see the snow falling in such heavy flakes close to us, and beyond, +the sun shining more and more brightly as it sank down towards the far +mountain tops. Sweeping the glass all around us I could see here and +there dots moving singly and in twos and threes and larger numbers. +The wolves were gathering for their prey. + +Every instant seemed an age whilst we waited. The wind came now in +fierce bursts, and the snow was driven with fury as it swept upon us +in circling eddies. At times we could not see an arm's length before +us. But at others, as the hollow sounding wind swept by us, it seemed +to clear the air space around us so that we could see afar off. We +had of late been so accustomed to watch for sunrise and sunset, that +we knew with fair accuracy when it would be. And we knew that before +long the sun would set. It was hard to believe that by our watches it +was less than an hour that we waited in that rocky shelter before the +various bodies began to converge close upon us. The wind came now +with fiercer and more bitter sweeps, and more steadily from the +north. It seemingly had driven the snow clouds from us, for with only +occasional bursts, the snow fell. We could distinguish clearly the +individuals of each party, the pursued and the pursuers. Strangely +enough those pursued did not seem to realize, or at least to care, +that they were pursued. They seemed, however, to hasten with +redoubled speed as the sun dropped lower and lower on the mountain +tops. + +Closer and closer they drew. The Professor and I crouched down behind +our rock, and held our weapons ready. I could see that he was +determined that they should not pass. One and all were quite unaware +of our presence. + +All at once two voices shouted out to "Halt!" One was my Jonathan's, +raised in a high key of passion. The other Mr. Morris' strong +resolute tone of quiet command. The gypsies may not have known the +language, but there was no mistaking the tone, in whatever tongue the +words were spoken. Instinctively they reined in, and at the instant +Lord Godalming and Jonathan dashed up at one side and Dr. Seward and +Mr. Morris on the other. The leader of the gypsies, a splendid +looking fellow who sat his horse like a centaur, waved them back, and +in a fierce voice gave to his companions some word to proceed. They +lashed the horses which sprang forward. But the four men raised their +Winchester rifles, and in an unmistakable way commanded them to stop. +At the same moment Dr. Van Helsing and I rose behind the rock and +pointed our weapons at them. Seeing that they were surrounded the men +tightened their reins and drew up. The leader turned to them and gave +a word at which every man of the gypsy party drew what weapon he +carried, knife or pistol, and held himself in readiness to attack. +Issue was joined in an instant. + +The leader, with a quick movement of his rein, threw his horse out in +front, and pointed first to the sun, now close down on the hill tops, +and then to the castle, said something which I did not understand. +For answer, all four men of our party threw themselves from their +horses and dashed towards the cart. I should have felt terrible fear +at seeing Jonathan in such danger, but that the ardor of battle must +have been upon me as well as the rest of them. I felt no fear, but +only a wild, surging desire to do something. Seeing the quick +movement of our parties, the leader of the gypsies gave a command. His +men instantly formed round the cart in a sort of undisciplined +endeavour, each one shouldering and pushing the other in his eagerness +to carry out the order. + +In the midst of this I could see that Jonathan on one side of the ring +of men, and Quincey on the other, were forcing a way to the cart. It +was evident that they were bent on finishing their task before the sun +should set. Nothing seemed to stop or even to hinder them. Neither +the levelled weapons nor the flashing knives of the gypsies in front, +nor the howling of the wolves behind, appeared to even attract their +attention. Jonathan's impetuosity, and the manifest singleness of his +purpose, seemed to overawe those in front of him. Instinctively they +cowered aside and let him pass. In an instant he had jumped upon the +cart, and with a strength which seemed incredible, raised the great +box, and flung it over the wheel to the ground. In the meantime, Mr. +Morris had had to use force to pass through his side of the ring of +Szgany. All the time I had been breathlessly watching Jonathan I had, +with the tail of my eye, seen him pressing desperately forward, and +had seen the knives of the gypsies flash as he won a way through them, +and they cut at him. He had parried with his great bowie knife, and +at first I thought that he too had come through in safety. But as he +sprang beside Jonathan, who had by now jumped from the cart, I could +see that with his left hand he was clutching at his side, and that the +blood was spurting through his fingers. He did not delay +notwithstanding this, for as Jonathan, with desperate energy, attacked +one end of the chest, attempting to prize off the lid with his great +Kukri knife, he attacked the other frantically with his bowie. Under +the efforts of both men the lid began to yield. The nails drew with a +screeching sound, and the top of the box was thrown back. + +By this time the gypsies, seeing themselves covered by the +Winchesters, and at the mercy of Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward, had +given in and made no further resistance. The sun was almost down on +the mountain tops, and the shadows of the whole group fell upon the +snow. I saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of +which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was +deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with +the horrible vindictive look which I knew so well. + +As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate in +them turned to triumph. + +But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's great +knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat. Whilst at +the same moment Mr. Morris's bowie knife plunged into the heart. + +It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in the +drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from +our sight. + +I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final +dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never +could have imagined might have rested there. + +The Castle of Dracula now stood out against the red sky, and every +stone of its broken battlements was articulated against the light of +the setting sun. + +The gypsies, taking us as in some way the cause of the extraordinary +disappearance of the dead man, turned, without a word, and rode away +as if for their lives. Those who were unmounted jumped upon the +leiter wagon and shouted to the horsemen not to desert them. The +wolves, which had withdrawn to a safe distance, followed in their +wake, leaving us alone. + +Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his elbow, holding +his hand pressed to his side. The blood still gushed through his +fingers. I flew to him, for the Holy circle did not now keep me back; +so did the two doctors. Jonathan knelt behind him and the wounded man +laid back his head on his shoulder. With a sigh he took, with a +feeble effort, my hand in that of his own which was unstained. + +He must have seen the anguish of my heart in my face, for he smiled at +me and said, "I am only too happy to have been of service! Oh, God!" +he cried suddenly, struggling to a sitting posture and pointing to me. +"It was worth for this to die! Look! Look!" + +The sun was now right down upon the mountain top, and the red gleams +fell upon my face, so that it was bathed in rosy light. With one +impulse the men sank on their knees and a deep and earnest "Amen" +broke from all as their eyes followed the pointing of his finger. + +The dying man spoke, "Now God be thanked that all has not been in +vain! See! The snow is not more stainless than her forehead! The +curse has passed away!" + +And, to our bitter grief, with a smile and in silence, he died, a +gallant gentleman. + + + + + +NOTE + + +Seven years ago we all went through the flames. And the happiness of +some of us since then is, we think, well worth the pain we endured. +It is an added joy to Mina and to me that our boy's birthday is the +same day as that on which Quincey Morris died. His mother holds, I +know, the secret belief that some of our brave friend's spirit has +passed into him. His bundle of names links all our little band of men +together. But we call him Quincey. + +In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transylvania, and went +over the old ground which was, and is, to us so full of vivid and +terrible memories. It was almost impossible to believe that the +things which we had seen with our own eyes and heard with our own ears +were living truths. Every trace of all that had been was blotted +out. The castle stood as before, reared high above a waste of +desolation. + +When we got home we were talking of the old time, which we could all +look back on without despair, for Godalming and Seward are both +happily married. I took the papers from the safe where they had been +ever since our return so long ago. We were struck with the fact, that +in all the mass of material of which the record is composed, there is +hardly one authentic document. Nothing but a mass of typewriting, +except the later notebooks of Mina and Seward and myself, and Van +Helsing's memorandum. We could hardly ask any one, even did we wish +to, to accept these as proofs of so wild a story. Van Helsing summed +it all up as he said, with our boy on his knee. + +"We want no proofs. We ask none to believe us! This boy will some +day know what a brave and gallant woman his mother is. Already he +knows her sweetness and loving care. Later on he will understand how +some men so loved her, that they did dare much for her sake." + +JONATHAN HARKER + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dracula, by Bram Stoker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DRACULA *** + +***** This file should be named 345.txt or 345.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/345/ + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.net + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/surgery.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/surgery.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd5917e --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/surgery.txt @@ -0,0 +1,24335 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Manual of Surgery, by Alexis Thomson and Alexander Miles + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Manual of Surgery + Volume First: General Surgery. Sixth Edition. + +Author: Alexis Thomson and Alexander Miles + +Release Date: March 4, 2006 [EBook #17921] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MANUAL OF SURGERY *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Laura Wisewell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + ++--------------------------------------------------------------------+ +| | +| Transcriber's note: The original text used the Greek letter mu, | +| which has here been rendered as [micron], and the apothecaries' | +| symbols here rendered as [ounce] and [dram]. The degrees symbol in | +| temperatures has been omitted altogether, since the C or F makes | +| it clear. The substitutions used for other special characters, | +| such as the ae ligature, are standard. All the special characters | +| are preserved in the UTF-8 and HTML versions of this text. | +| | +| In addition, a number of printing errors have been corrected. | +| These are marked in the HTML version only. | +| | ++--------------------------------------------------------------------+ + + + + + OXFORD MEDICAL PUBLICATIONS + + + + MANUAL OF SURGERY + + + + BY + + ALEXIS THOMSON, F.R.C.S.Ed. + _PROFESSOR OF SURGERY, UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH_ + SURGEON EDINBURGH ROYAL INFIRMARY + + AND + + ALEXANDER MILES, F.R.C.S.Ed. + SURGEON EDINBURGH ROYAL INFIRMARY + + + VOLUME FIRST + GENERAL SURGERY + + + _SIXTH EDITION REVISED_ + _WITH 169 ILLUSTRATIONS_ + + + + LONDON + HENRY FROWDE and HODDER & STOUGHTON + THE _LANCET_ BUILDING + 1 & 2 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C.2 + + + + + + + First Edition 1904 + Second Edition 1907 + Third Edition 1909 + Fourth Edition 1911 + " " Second Impression 1913 + Fifth Edition 1915 + " " Second Impression 1919 + Sixth Edition 1921 + + + + PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY + MORRISON AND GIBB LTD., EDINBURGH + + + + +PREFACE TO SIXTH EDITION + + +Much has happened since this Manual was last revised, and many surgical +lessons have been learned in the hard school of war. Some may yet have +to be unlearned, and others have but little bearing on the problems +presented to the civilian surgeon. Save in its broadest principles, the +surgery of warfare is a thing apart from the general surgery of civil +life, and the exhaustive literature now available on every aspect of it +makes it unnecessary that it should receive detailed consideration in a +manual for students. In preparing this new edition, therefore, we have +endeavoured to incorporate only such additions to our knowledge and +resources as our experience leads us to believe will prove of permanent +value in civil practice. + +For the rest, the text has been revised, condensed, and in places +rearranged; a number of old illustrations have been discarded, and a +greater number of new ones added. Descriptions of operative procedures +have been omitted from the _Manual_, as they are to be found in the +companion volume on _Operative Surgery_, the third edition of which +appeared some months ago. + +We have retained the Basle anatomical nomenclature, as extended +experience has confirmed our preference for it. For the convenience of +readers who still employ the old terms, these are given in brackets +after the new. + +This edition of the _Manual_ appears in three volumes; the first being +devoted to General Surgery, the other two to Regional Surgery. This +arrangement has enabled us to deal in a more consecutive manner than +hitherto with the surgery of the Extremities, including Fractures and +Dislocations. + +We have once more to express our thanks to colleagues in the Edinburgh +School and to other friends for aiding us in providing new +illustrations, and for other valuable help, as well as to our publishers +for their generosity in the matter of illustrations. + +EDINBURGH, + _March_ 1921. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + CHAPTER I + REPAIR 1 + + CHAPTER II + CONDITIONS WHICH INTERFERE WITH REPAIR 17 + + CHAPTER III + INFLAMMATION 31 + + CHAPTER IV + SUPPURATION 45 + + CHAPTER V + ULCERATION AND ULCERS 68 + + CHAPTER VI + GANGRENE 86 + + CHAPTER VII + BACTERIAL AND OTHER WOUND INFECTIONS 107 + + CHAPTER VIII + TUBERCULOSIS 133 + + CHAPTER IX + SYPHILIS 146 + + CHAPTER X + TUMOURS 181 + + CHAPTER XI + INJURIES 218 + + CHAPTER XII + METHODS OF WOUND TREATMENT 241 + + CHAPTER XIII + CONSTITUTIONAL EFFECTS OF INJURIES 249 + + CHAPTER XIV + THE BLOOD VESSELS 258 + + CHAPTER XV + THE LYMPH VESSELS AND GLANDS 321 + + CHAPTER XVI + THE NERVES 342 + + CHAPTER XVII + SKIN AND SUBCUTANEOUS TISSUES 376 + + CHAPTER XVIII + THE MUSCLES, TENDONS, AND TENDON SHEATHS 405 + + CHAPTER XIX + THE BURSAE 426 + + CHAPTER XX + DISEASES OF BONE 434 + + CHAPTER XXI + DISEASES OF JOINTS 501 + + INDEX 547 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + FIG. PAGE + + 1. Ulcer of Back of Hand grafted from Abdominal Wall 15 + + 2. Staphylococcus aureus in Pus from case of Osteomyelitis 25 + + 3. Streptococci in Pus from case of Diffuse Cellulitis 26 + + 4. Bacillus coli communis in Pus from Abdominal Abscess 27 + + 5. Fraenkel's Pneumococci in Pus from Empyema following 28 + Pneumonia + + 6. Passive Hyperaemia of Hand and Forearm induced by Bier's 37 + Bandage + + 7. Passive Hyperaemia of Finger induced by Klapp's Suction 38 + Bell + + 8. Passive Hyperaemia induced by Klapp's Suction Bell for 39 + Inflammation of Inguinal Gland + + 9. Diagram of various forms of Whitlow 56 + + 10. Charts of Acute Sapraemia 61 + + 11. Chart of Hectic Fever 62 + + 12. Chart of Septicaemia followed by Pyaemia 63 + + 13. Chart of Pyaemia following on Acute Osteomyelitis 65 + + 14. Leg Ulcers associated with Varicose Veins 71 + + 15. Perforating Ulcers of Sole of Foot 74 + + 16. Bazin's Disease in a girl aet. 16 75 + + 17. Syphilitic Ulcers in region of Knee 76 + + 18. Callous Ulcer showing thickened edges 78 + + 19. Tibia and Fibula, showing changes due to Chronic Ulcer of 80 + Leg + + 20. Senile Gangrene of the Foot 89 + + 21. Embolic Gangrene of Hand and Arm 92 + + 22. Gangrene of Terminal Phalanx of Index-Finger 100 + + 23. Cancrum Oris 103 + + 24. Acute Bed Sores over right Buttock 104 + + 25. Chart of Erysipelas occurring in a wound 108 + + 26. Bacillus of Tetanus 113 + + 27. Bacillus of Anthrax 120 + + 28. Malignant Pustule third day after infection 122 + + 29. Malignant Pustule fourteen days after infection 122 + + 30. Colony of Actinomyces 126 + + 31. Actinomycosis of Maxilla 128 + + 32. Mycetoma, or Madura Foot 130 + + 33. Tubercle bacilli 134 + + 34. Tuberculous Abscess in Lumbar Region 141 + + 35. Tuberculous Sinus injected through its opening in the 144 + Forearm with Bismuth Paste + + 36. Spirochaete pallida 147 + + 37. Spirochaeta refrigerans from scraping of Vagina 148 + + 38. Primary Lesion on Thumb, with Secondary Eruption on 154 + Forearm + + 39. Syphilitic Rupia 159 + + 40. Ulcerating Gumma of Lips 169 + + 41. Ulceration in inherited Syphilis 170 + + 42. Tertiary Syphilitic Ulceration in region of Knee and on 171 + both Thumbs + + 43. Facies of Inherited Syphilis 174 + + 44. Facies of Inherited Syphilis 175 + + 45. Subcutaneous Lipoma 185 + + 46. Pedunculated Lipoma of Buttock 186 + + 47. Diffuse Lipomatosis of Neck 187 + + 48. Zanthoma of Hands 188 + + 49. Zanthoma of Buttock 189 + + 50. Chondroma growing from Infra-Spinous Fossa of Scapula 190 + + 51. Chondroma of Metacarpal Bone of Thumb 190 + + 52. Cancellous Osteoma of Lower End of Femur 192 + + 53. Myeloma of Shaft of Humerus 195 + + 54. Fibro-myoma of Uterus 196 + + 55. Recurrent Sarcoma of Sciatic Nerve 198 + + 56. Sarcoma of Arm fungating 199 + + 57. Carcinoma of Breast 206 + + 58. Epithelioma of Lip 209 + + 59. Dermoid Cyst of Ovary 213 + + 60. Carpal Ganglion in a woman aet. 25 215 + + 61. Ganglion on lateral aspect of Knee 216 + + 62. Radiogram showing pellets embedded in Arm 228 + + 63. Cicatricial Contraction following Severe Burn 236 + + 64. Genealogical Tree of Haemophilic Family 278 + + 65. Radiogram showing calcareous degeneration of Arteries 284 + + 66. Varicose Vein with Thrombosis 289 + + 67. Extensive Varix of Internal Saphena System on Left Leg 291 + + 68. Mixed Naevus of Nose 296 + + 69. Cirsoid Aneurysm of Forehead 299 + + 70. Cirsoid Aneurysm of Orbit and Face 300 + + 71. Radiogram of Aneurysm of Aorta 303 + + 72. Sacculated Aneurysm of Abdominal Aorta 304 + + 73. Radiogram of Innominate Aneurysm after Treatment by 309 + Moore-Corradi method + + 74. Thoracic Aneurysm threatening to rupture 313 + + 75. Innominate Aneurysm in a woman 315 + + 76. Congenital Cystic Tumour or Hygroma of Axilla 328 + + 77. Tuberculous Cervical Gland with Abscess formation 331 + + 78. Mass of Tuberculous Glands removed from Axilla 333 + + 79. Tuberculous Axillary Glands 335 + + 80. Chronic Hodgkin's Disease in boy aet. 11 337 + + 81. Lymphadenoma in a woman aet. 44 338 + + 82. Lympho Sarcoma removed from Groin 339 + + 83. Cancerous Glands in Neck, secondary to Epithelioma of Lip 341 + + 84. Stump Neuromas of Sciatic Nerve 345 + + 85. Stump Neuromas, showing changes at ends of divided Nerves 354 + + 86. Diffuse Enlargement of Nerves in generalised 356 + Neuro-Fibromatosis + + 87. Plexiform Neuroma of small Sciatic Nerve 357 + + 88. Multiple Neuro-Fibromas of Skin (Molluscum fibrosum) 358 + + 89. Elephantiasis Neuromatosa in a woman aet. 28 359 + + 90. Drop-Wrist following Fracture of Shaft of Humerus 365 + + 91. To illustrate the Loss of Sensation produced by Division 367 + of the Median Nerve + + 92. To illustrate Loss of Sensation produced by Complete 368 + Division of Ulnar Nerve + + 93. Callosities and Corns on Sole of Foot 377 + + 94. Ulcerated Chilblains on Fingers 378 + + 95. Carbuncle on Back of Neck 381 + + 96. Tuberculous Elephantiasis 383 + + 97. Elephantiasis in a woman aet. 45 387 + + 98. Elephantiasis of Penis and Scrotum 388 + + 99. Multiple Sebaceous Cysts or Wens 390 + + 100. Sebaceous Horn growing from Auricle 392 + + 101. Paraffin Epithelioma 394 + + 102. Rodent Cancer of Inner Canthus 395 + + 103. Rodent Cancer with destruction of contents of Orbit 396 + + 104. Diffuse Melanotic Cancer of Lymphatics of Skin 398 + + 105. Melanotic Cancer of Forehead with Metastasis in Lymph 399 + Glands + + 106. Recurrent Keloid 401 + + 107. Subungual Exostosis 403 + + 108. Avulsion of Tendon 410 + + 109. Volkmann's Ischaemic Contracture 414 + + 110. Ossification in Tendon of Ilio-psoas Muscle 417 + + 111. Radiogram of Calcification and Ossification in Biceps and 418 + Triceps + + 112. Ossification in Muscles of Trunk in generalised Ossifying 419 + Myositis + + 113. Hydrops of Prepatellar Bursa 427 + + 114. Section through Gouty Bursa 428 + + 115. Tuberculous Disease of Sub-Deltoid Bursa 429 + + 116. Great Enlargement of the Ischial Bursa 431 + + 117. Gouty Disease of Bursae 432 + + 118. Shaft of the Femur after Acute Osteomyelitis 444 + + 119. Femur and Tibia showing results of Acute Osteomyelitis 445 + + 120. Segment of Tibia resected for Brodie's Abscess 449 + + 121. Radiogram of Brodie's Abscess in Lower End of Tibia 451 + + 122. Sequestrum of Femur after Amputation 453 + + 123. New Periosteal Bone on Surface of Femur from Amputation 454 + Stump + + 124. Tuberculous Osteomyelitis of Os Magnum 456 + + 125. Tuberculous Disease of Tibia 457 + + 126. Diffuse Tuberculous Osteomyelitis of Right Tibia 458 + + 127. Advanced Tuberculous Disease in Region of Ankle 459 + + 128. Tuberculous Dactylitis 460 + + 129. Shortening of Middle Finger of Adult, the result of 461 + Tuberculous Dactylitis in Childhood + + 130. Syphilitic Disease of Skull 463 + + 131. Syphilitic Hyperostosis and Sclerosis of Tibia 464 + + 132. Sabre-blade Deformity of Tibia 467 + + 133. Skeleton of Rickety Dwarf 470 + + 134. Changes in the Skull resulting from Ostitis Deformans 474 + + 135. Cadaver, illustrating the alterations in the Lower Limbs 475 + resulting from Ostitis Deformans + + 136. Osteomyelitis Fibrosa affecting Femora 476 + + 137. Radiogram of Upper End of Femur in Osteomyelitis Fibrosa 478 + + 138. Radiogram of Right Knee showing Multiple Exostoses 482 + + 139. Multiple Exostoses of Limbs 483 + + 140. Multiple Cartilaginous Exostoses 484 + + 141. Multiple Cartilaginous Exostoses 486 + + 142. Multiple Chondromas of Phalanges and Metacarpals 488 + + 143. Skiagram of Multiple Chondromas 489 + + 144. Multiple Chondromas in Hand 490 + + 145. Radiogram of Myeloma of Humerus 492 + + 146. Periosteal Sarcoma of Femur 493 + + 147. Periosteal Sarcoma of Humerus 493 + + 148. Chondro-Sarcoma of Scapula 494 + + 149. Central Sarcoma of Femur invading Knee Joint 495 + + 150. Osseous Shell of Osteo-Sarcoma of Femur 495 + + 151. Radiogram of Osteo-Sarcoma of Femur 496 + + 152. Radiogram of Chondro-Sarcoma of Humerus 497 + + 153. Epitheliomatus Ulcer of Leg invading Tibia 499 + + 154. Osseous Ankylosis of Femur and Tibia 503 + + 155. Osseous Ankylosis of Knee 504 + + 156. Caseating focus in Upper End of Fibula 513 + + 157. Arthritis Deformans of Elbow 525 + + 158. Arthritis Deformans of Knee 526 + + 159. Hypertrophied Fringes of Synovial Membrane of Knee 527 + + 160. Arthritis Deformans of Hands 529 + + 161. Arthritis Deformans of several Joints 530 + + 162. Bones of Knee in Charcot's Disease 533 + + 163. Charcot's Disease of Left Knee 534 + + 164. Charcot's Disease of both Ankles: front view 535 + + 165. Charcot's Disease of both Ankles: back view 536 + + 166. Radiogram of Multiple Loose Bodies in Knee-joint 540 + + 167. Loose Body from Knee-joint 541 + + 168. Multiple partially ossified Chondromas of Synovial 542 + Membrane from Shoulder-joint + + 169. Multiple Cartilaginous Loose Bodies from Knee-joint 543 + + + + +MANUAL OF SURGERY + + + + +CHAPTER I + +REPAIR + + +Introduction--Process of repair--Healing by primary union--Granulation + tissue--Cicatricial tissue--Modifications of process of + repair--Repair in individual tissues--Transplantation or grafting + of tissues--Conditions--Sources of grafts--Grafting of individual + tissues--Methods. + + +INTRODUCTION + +To prolong human life and to alleviate suffering are the ultimate +objects of scientific medicine. The two great branches of the healing +art--Medicine and Surgery--are so intimately related that it is +impossible to draw a hard-and-fast line between them, but for +convenience Surgery may be defined as "the art of treating lesions and +malformations of the human body by manual operations, mediate and +immediate." To apply his art intelligently and successfully, it is +essential that the surgeon should be conversant not only with the normal +anatomy and physiology of the body and with the various pathological +conditions to which it is liable, but also with the nature of the +process by which repair of injured or diseased tissues is effected. +Without this knowledge he is unable to recognise such deviations from +the normal as result from mal-development, injury, or disease, or +rationally to direct his efforts towards the correction or removal of +these. + + +PROCESS OF REPAIR + +The process of repair in living tissue depends upon an inherent power +possessed by vital cells of reacting to the irritation caused by injury +or disease. The cells of the damaged tissues, under the influence of +this irritation, undergo certain proliferative changes, which are +designed to restore the normal structure and configuration of the part. +The process by which this restoration is effected is essentially the +same in all tissues, but the extent to which different tissues can carry +the recuperative process varies. Simple structures, such as skin, +cartilage, bone, periosteum, and tendon, for example, have a high power +of regeneration, and in them the reparative process may result in almost +perfect restitution to the normal. More complex structures, on the other +hand, such as secreting glands, muscle, and the tissues of the central +nervous system, are but imperfectly restored, simple cicatricial +connective tissue taking the place of what has been lost or destroyed. +Any given tissue can be replaced only by tissue of a similar kind, and +in a damaged part each element takes its share in the reparative process +by producing new material which approximates more or less closely to the +normal according to the recuperative capacity of the particular tissue. +The normal process of repair may be interfered with by various +extraneous agencies, the most important of which are infection by +disease-producing micro-organisms, the presence of foreign substances, +undue movement of the affected part, and improper applications and +dressings. The effect of these agencies is to delay repair or to prevent +the individual tissues carrying the process to the furthest degree of +which they are capable. + +In the management of wounds and other diseased conditions the main +object of the surgeon is to promote the natural reparative process by +preventing or eliminating any factor by which it may be disturbed. + +#Healing by Primary Union.#--The most favourable conditions for the +progress of the reparative process are to be found in a clean-cut wound +of the integument, which is uncomplicated by loss of tissue, by the +presence of foreign substances, or by infection with disease-producing +micro-organisms, and its edges are in contact. Such a wound in virtue of +the absence of infection is said to be _aseptic_, and under these +conditions healing takes place by what is called "primary union"--the +"healing by first intention" of the older writers. + +#Granulation Tissue.#--The essential and invariable medium of repair in +all structures is an elementary form of new tissue known as _granulation +tissue_, which is produced in the damaged area in response to the +irritation caused by injury or disease. The vital reaction induced by +such irritation results in dilatation of the vessels of the part, +emigration of leucocytes, transudation of lymph, and certain +proliferative changes in the fixed tissue cells. These changes are +common to the processes of inflammation and repair; no hard-and-fast +line can be drawn between these processes, and the two may go on +together. It is, however, only when the proliferative changes have come +to predominate that the reparative process is effectively established by +the production of healthy granulation tissue. + +_Formation of Granulation Tissue._--When a wound is made in the +integument under aseptic conditions, the passage of the knife through +the tissues is immediately followed by an oozing of blood, which soon +coagulates on the cut surfaces. In each of the divided vessels a clot +forms, and extends as far as the nearest collateral branch; and on the +surface of the wound there is a microscopic layer of bruised and +devitalised tissue. If the wound is closed, the narrow space between its +edges is occupied by blood-clot, which consists of red and white +corpuscles mixed with a quantity of fibrin, and this forms a temporary +uniting medium between the divided surfaces. During the first twelve +hours, the minute vessels in the vicinity of the wound dilate, and from +them lymph exudes and leucocytes migrate into the tissues. In from +twenty-four to thirty-six hours, the capillaries of the part adjacent to +the wound begin to throw out minute buds and fine processes, which +bridge the gap and form a firmer, but still temporary, connection +between the two sides. Each bud begins in the wall of the capillary as a +small accumulation of granular protoplasm, which gradually elongates +into a filament containing a nucleus. This filament either joins with a +neighbouring capillary or with a similar filament, and in time these +become hollow and are filled with blood from the vessels that gave them +origin. In this way a series of young _capillary loops_ is formed. + +The spaces between these loops are filled by cells of various kinds, the +most important being the _fibroblasts_, which are destined to form +cicatricial fibrous tissue. These fibroblasts are large irregular +nucleated cells derived mainly from the proliferation of the fixed +connective-tissue cells of the part, and to a less extent from the +lymphocytes and other mononuclear cells which have migrated from the +vessels. Among the fibroblasts, larger multi-nucleated cells--_giant +cells_--are sometimes found, particularly when resistant substances, +such as silk ligatures or fragments of bone, are embedded in the +tissues, and their function seems to be to soften such substances +preliminary to their being removed by the phagocytes. Numerous +_polymorpho-nuclear leucocytes_, which have wandered from the vessels, +are also present in the spaces. These act as phagocytes, their function +being to remove the red corpuscles and fibrin of the original clot, and +this performed, they either pass back into the circulation in virtue of +their amoeboid movement, or are themselves eaten up by the growing +fibroblasts. Beyond this phagocytic action, they do not appear to play +any direct part in the reparative process. These young capillary loops, +with their supporting cells and fluids, constitute granulation tissue, +which is usually fully formed in from three to five days, after which it +begins to be replaced by cicatricial or scar tissue. + +_Formation of Cicatricial Tissue._--The transformation of this temporary +granulation tissue into scar tissue is effected by the fibroblasts, +which become elongated and spindle-shaped, and produce in and around +them a fine fibrillated material which gradually increases in quantity +till it replaces the cell protoplasm. In this way white fibrous tissue +is formed, the cells of which are arranged in parallel lines and +eventually become grouped in bundles, constituting fully formed white +fibrous tissue. In its growth it gradually obliterates the capillaries, +until at the end of two, three, or four weeks both vessels and cells +have almost entirely disappeared, and the original wound is occupied by +cicatricial tissue. In course of time this tissue becomes consolidated, +and the cicatrix undergoes a certain amount of contraction--_cicatricial +contraction_. + +_Healing of Epidermis._--While these changes are taking place in the +deeper parts of the wound, the surface is being covered over by +_epidermis_ growing in from the margins. Within twelve hours the cells +of the rete Malpighii close to the cut edge begin to sprout on to the +surface of the wound, and by their proliferation gradually cover the +granulations with a thin pink pellicle. As the epithelium increases in +thickness it assumes a bluish hue and eventually the cells become +cornified and the epithelium assumes a greyish-white colour. + +_Clinical Aspects._--So long as the process of repair is not complicated +by infection with micro-organisms, there is no interference with the +general health of the patient. The temperature remains normal; the +circulatory, gastro-intestinal, nervous, and other functions are +undisturbed; locally, the part is cool, of natural colour and free from +pain. + +#Modifications of the Process of Repair.#--The process of repair by +primary union, above described, is to be looked upon as the type of all +reparative processes, such modifications as are met with depending +merely upon incidental differences in the conditions present, such as +loss of tissue, infection by micro-organisms, etc. + +_Repair after Loss or Destruction of Tissue._--When the edges of a wound +cannot be approximated either because tissue has been lost, for example +in excising a tumour or because a drainage tube or gauze packing has +been necessary, a greater amount of granulation tissue is required to +fill the gap, but the process is essentially the same as in the ideal +method of repair. + +The raw surface is first covered by a layer of coagulated blood and +fibrin. An extensive new formation of capillary loops and fibroblasts +takes place towards the free surface, and goes on until the gap is +filled by a fine velvet-like mass of granulation tissue. This +granulation tissue is gradually replaced by young cicatricial tissue, +and the surface is covered by the ingrowth of epithelium from the edges. + +This modification of the reparative process can be best studied +clinically in a recent wound which has been packed with gauze. When the +plug is introduced, the walls of the cavity consist of raw tissue with +numerous oozing blood vessels. On removing the packing on the fifth or +sixth day, the surface is found to be covered with minute, red, +papillary granulations, which are beginning to fill up the cavity. At +the edges the epithelium has proliferated and is covering over the newly +formed granulation tissue. As lymph and leucocytes escape from the +exposed surface there is a certain amount of serous or sero-purulent +discharge. On examining the wound at intervals of a few days, it is +found that the granulation tissue gradually increases in amount till the +gap is completely filled up, and that coincidently the epithelium +spreads in and covers over its surface. In course of time the epithelium +thickens, and as the granulation tissue is slowly replaced by young +cicatricial tissue, which has a peculiar tendency to contract and so to +obliterate the blood vessels in it, the scar that is left becomes +smooth, pale, and depressed. This method of healing is sometimes spoken +of as "healing by granulation"--although, as we have seen, it is by +granulation that all repair takes place. + +_Healing by Union of two Granulating Surfaces._--In gaping wounds union +is sometimes obtained by bringing the two surfaces into apposition after +each has become covered with healthy granulations. The exudate on the +surfaces causes them to adhere, capillary loops pass from one to the +other, and their final fusion takes place by the further development of +granulation and cicatricial tissue. + +_Reunion of Parts entirely Separated from the Body._--Small portions of +tissue, such as the end of a finger, the tip of the nose or a portion of +the external ear, accidentally separated from the body, if accurately +replaced and fixed in position, occasionally adhere by primary union. + +In the course of operations also, portions of skin, fascia, or bone, or +even a complete joint may be transplanted, and unite by primary union. + +_Healing under a Scab._--When a small superficial wound is exposed to +the air, the blood and serum exuded on its surface may dry and form a +hard crust or _scab_, which serves to protect the surface from external +irritation in the same way as would a dry pad of sterilised gauze. Under +this scab the formation of granulation tissue, its transformation into +cicatricial tissue, and the growth of epithelium on the surface, go on +until in the course of time the crust separates, leaving a scar. + +_Healing by Blood-clot._--In subcutaneous wounds, for example tenotomy, +in amputation wounds, and in wounds made in excising tumours or in +operating upon bones, the space left between the divided tissues becomes +filled with blood-clot, which acts as a temporary scaffolding in which +granulation tissue is built up. Capillary loops grow into the coagulum, +and migrated leucocytes from the adjacent blood vessels destroy the red +corpuscles, and are in turn disposed of by the developing fibroblasts, +which by their growth and proliferation fill up the gap with young +connective tissue. It will be evident that this process only differs +from healing by primary union in the _amount_ of blood-clot that is +present. + +_Presence of a Foreign Body._--When an aseptic foreign body is present +in the tissues, _e.g._ a piece of unabsorbable chromicised catgut, the +healing process may be modified. After primary union has taken place the +scar may broaden, become raised above the surface, and assume a +bluish-brown colour; the epidermis gradually thins and gives way, +revealing the softened portion of catgut, which can be pulled out in +pieces, after which the wound rapidly heals and resumes a normal +appearance. + + +REPAIR IN INDIVIDUAL TISSUES + +_Skin and Connective Tissue._--The mode of regeneration of these tissues +under aseptic conditions has already been described as the type of ideal +repair. In highly vascular parts, such as the face, the reparative +process goes on with great rapidity, and even extensive wounds may be +firmly united in from three to five days. Where the anastomosis is less +free the process is more prolonged. The more highly organised elements +of the skin, such as the hair follicles, the sweat and sebaceous glands, +are imperfectly reproduced; hence the scar remains smooth, dry, and +hairless. + +_Epithelium._--Epithelium is only reproduced from pre-existing +epithelium, and, as a rule, from one of a similar type, although +metaplastic transformation of cells of one kind of epithelium into +another kind can take place. Thus a granulating surface may be covered +entirely by the ingrowing of the cutaneous epithelium from the margins; +or islets, originating in surviving cells of sebaceous glands or sweat +glands, or of hair follicles, may spring up in the centre of the raw +area. Such islets may also be due to the accidental transference of +loose epithelial cells from the edges. Even the fluid from a blister, in +virtue of the isolated cells of the rete Malpighii which it contains, is +capable of starting epithelial growth on a granulating surface. Hairs +and nails may be completely regenerated if a sufficient amount of the +hair follicles or of the nail matrix has escaped destruction. The +epithelium of a mucous membrane is regenerated in the same way as that +on a cutaneous surface. + +Epithelial cells have the power of living for some time after being +separated from their normal surroundings, and of growing again when once +more placed in favourable circumstances. On this fact the practice of +skin grafting is based (p. 11). + +_Cartilage._--When an articular cartilage is divided by incision or by +being implicated in a fracture involving the articular end of a bone, it +is repaired by ordinary cicatricial fibrous tissue derived from the +proliferating cells of the perichondrium. Cartilage being a non-vascular +tissue, the reparative process goes on slowly, and it may be many weeks +before it is complete. + +It is possible for a metaplastic transformation of connective-tissue +cells into cartilage cells to take place, the characteristic hyaline +matrix being secreted by the new cells. This is sometimes observed as an +intermediary stage in the healing of fractures, especially in young +bones. It may also take place in the regeneration of lost portions of +cartilage, provided the new tissue is so situated as to constitute part +of a joint and to be subjected to pressure by an opposing cartilaginous +surface. This is illustrated by what takes place after excision of +joints where it is desired to restore the function of the articulation. +By carrying out movements between the constituent parts, the fibrous +tissue covering the ends of the bones becomes moulded into shape, its +cells take on the characters of cartilage cells, and, forming a matrix, +so develop a new cartilage. + +Conversely, it is observed that when articular cartilage is no longer +subjected to pressure by an opposing cartilage, it tends to be +transformed into fibrous tissue, as may be seen in deformities attended +with displacement of articular surfaces, such as hallux valgus and +club-foot. + +After fractures of costal cartilage or of the cartilages of the larynx +the cicatricial tissue may be ultimately replaced by bone. + +_Tendons._--When a tendon is divided, for example by subcutaneous +tenotomy, the end nearer the muscle fibres is drawn away from the other, +leaving a gap which is speedily filled by blood-clot. In the course of a +few days this clot becomes permeated by granulation tissue, the +fibroblasts of which are derived from the sheath of the tendon, the +surrounding connective tissue, and probably also from the divided ends +of the tendon itself. These fibroblasts ultimately develop into typical +tendon cells, and the fibres which they form constitute the new tendon +fibres. Under aseptic conditions repair is complete in from two to three +weeks. In the course of the reparative process the tendon and its sheath +may become adherent, which leads to impaired movement and stiffness. If +the ends of an accidentally divided tendon are at once brought into +accurate apposition and secured by sutures, they unite directly with a +minimum amount of scar tissue, and function is perfectly restored. + +_Muscle._--Unstriped muscle does not seem to be capable of being +regenerated to any but a moderate degree. If the ends of a divided +striped muscle are at once brought into apposition by stitches, primary +union takes place with a minimum of intervening fibrous tissue. The +nuclei of the muscle fibres in close proximity to this young cicatricial +tissue proliferate, and a few new muscle fibres may be developed, but +any gross loss of muscular tissue is replaced by a fibrous cicatrix. It +would appear that portions of muscle transplanted from animals to fill +up gaps in human muscle are similarly replaced by fibrous tissue. When a +muscle is paralysed from loss of its nerve supply and undergoes complete +degeneration, it is not capable of being regenerated, even should the +integrity of the nerve be restored, and so its function is permanently +lost. + +_Secretory Glands._--The regeneration of secretory glands is usually +incomplete, cicatricial tissue taking the place of the glandular +substance which has been destroyed. In wounds of the liver, for example, +the gap is filled by fibrous tissue, but towards the periphery of the +wound the liver cells proliferate and a certain amount of regeneration +takes place. In the kidney also, repair mainly takes place by +cicatricial tissue, and although a few collecting tubules may be +reformed, no regeneration of secreting tissue takes place. After the +operation of decapsulation of the kidney a new capsule is formed, and +during the process young blood vessels permeate the superficial parts +of the kidney and temporarily increase its blood supply, but in the +consolidation of the new fibrous tissue these vessels are ultimately +obliterated. This does not prove that the operation is useless, as the +temporary improvement of the circulation in the kidney may serve to tide +the patient over a critical period of renal insufficiency. + +_Stomach and Intestine._--Provided the peritoneal surfaces are +accurately apposed, wounds of the stomach and intestine heal with great +rapidity. Within a few hours the peritoneal surfaces are glued together +by a thin layer of fibrin and leucocytes, which is speedily organised +and replaced by fibrous tissue. Fibrous tissue takes the place of the +muscular elements, which are not regenerated. The mucous lining is +restored by ingrowth from the margins, and there is evidence that some +of the secreting glands may be reproduced. + +Hollow viscera, like the oesophagus and urinary bladder, in so far +as they are not covered by peritoneum, heal less rapidly. + +_Nerve Tissues._--There is no trustworthy evidence that regeneration of +the tissues of the brain or spinal cord in man ever takes place. Any +loss of substance is replaced by cicatricial tissue. + +The repair of _Bone_, _Blood Vessels_, and _Peripheral Nerves_ is more +conveniently considered in the chapters dealing with these structures. + +#Rate of Healing.#--While the rate at which wounds heal is remarkably +constant there are certain factors that influence it in one direction or +the other. Healing is more rapid when the edges are in contact, when +there is a minimum amount of blood-clot between them, when the patient +is in normal health and the vitality of the tissues has not been +impaired. Wounds heal slightly more quickly in the young than in the +old, although the difference is so small that it can only be +demonstrated by the most careful observations. + +Certain tissues take longer to heal than others: for example, a fracture +of one of the larger long bones takes about six weeks to unite, and +divided nerve trunks take much longer--about a year. + +Wounds of certain parts of the body heal more quickly than others: those +of the scalp, face, and neck, for example, heal more quickly than those +over the buttock or sacrum, probably because of their greater +vascularity. + +The extent of the wound influences the rate of healing; it is only +natural that a long and deep wound should take longer to heal than a +short and superficial one, because there is so much more work to be +done in the conversion of blood-clot into granulation tissue, and this +again into scar tissue that will be strong enough to stand the strain on +the edges of the wound. + + +THE TRANSPLANTATION OR GRAFTING OF TISSUES + +Conditions are not infrequently met with in which healing is promoted +and restoration of function made possible by the transference of a +portion of tissue from one part of the body to another; the tissue +transferred is known as the _graft_ or the _transplant_. The simplest +example of grafting is the transplantation of skin. + +In order that the graft may survive and have a favourable chance of +"taking," as it is called, the transplanted tissue must retain its +vitality until it has formed an organic connection with the tissue in +which it is placed, so that it may derive the necessary nourishment from +its new bed. When these conditions are fulfilled the tissues of the +graft continue to proliferate, producing new tissue elements to replace +those that are lost and making it possible for the graft to become +incorporated with the tissue with which it is in contact. + +Dead tissue, on the other hand, can do neither of these things; it is +only capable of acting as a model, or, at the most, as a scaffolding for +such mobile tissue elements as may be derived from, the parent tissue +with which the graft is in contact: a portion of sterilised marine +sponge, for example, may be observed to become permeated with +granulation tissue when it is embedded in the tissues. + +A successful graft of living tissue is not only capable of regeneration, +but it acquires a system of lymph and blood vessels, so that in time it +bleeds when cut into, and is permeated by new nerve fibres spreading in +from the periphery towards the centre. + +It is instructive to associate the period of survival of the different +tissues of the body after death, with their capacity of being used for +grafting purposes; the higher tissues such as those of the central +nervous system and highly specialised glandular tissues like those of +the kidney lose their vitality quickly after death and are therefore +useless for grafting; connective tissues, on the other hand, such as +fat, cartilage, and bone retain their vitality for several hours after +death, so that when they are transplanted, they readily "take" and do +all that is required of them: the same is true of the skin and its +appendages. + +_Sources of Grafts._--It is convenient to differentiate between +_autoplastic_ grafts, that is those derived from the same individual; +_homoplastic_ grafts, derived from another animal of the same species; +and _heteroplastic_ grafts, derived from an animal of another species. +Other conditions being equal, the prospects of success are greatest with +autoplastic grafts, and these are therefore preferred whenever possible. + +There are certain details making for success that merit attention: the +graft must not be roughly handled or allowed to dry, or be subjected to +chemical irritation; it must be brought into accurate contact with the +new soil, no blood-clot intervening between the two, no movement of the +one upon the other should be possible and all infection must be +excluded; it will be observed that these are exactly the same conditions +that permit of the primary healing of wounds, with which of course the +healing of grafts is exactly comparable. + +_Preservation of Tissues for Grafting._--It was at one time believed +that tissues might be taken from the operating theatre and kept in cold +storage until they were required. It is now agreed that tissues which +have been separated from the body for some time inevitably lose their +vitality, become incapable of regeneration, and are therefore unsuited +for grafting purposes. If it is intended to preserve a portion of tissue +for future grafting, it should be embedded in the subcutaneous tissue of +the abdominal wall until it is wanted; this has been carried out with +portions of costal cartilage and of bone. + + +INDIVIDUAL TISSUES AS GRAFTS + +#The Blood# lends itself in an ideal manner to transplantation, or, as +it has long been called, _transfusion_. Being always a homoplastic +transfer, the new blood is not always tolerated by the old, in which +case biochemical changes occur, resulting in haemolysis, which +corresponds to the disintegration of other unsuccessful homoplastic +grafts. (See article on Transfusion, _Op. Surg._, p. 37.) + +#The Skin.#--The skin was the first tissue to be used for grafting +purposes, and it is still employed with greater frequency than any +other, as lesions causing defects of skin are extremely common and +without the aid of grafts are tedious in healing. + +Skin grafts may be applied to a raw surface or to one that is covered +with granulations. + +_Skin grafting of raw surfaces_ is commonly indicated after operations +for malignant disease in which considerable areas of skin must be +sacrificed, and after accidents, such as avulsion of the scalp by +machinery. + +_Skin grafting of granulating surfaces_ is chiefly employed to promote +healing in the large defects of skin caused by severe burns; the +grafting is carried out when the surface is covered by a uniform layer +of healthy granulations and before the inevitable contraction of scar +tissue makes itself manifest. Before applying the grafts it is usual to +scrape away the granulations until the young fibrous tissue underneath +is exposed, but, if the granulations are healthy and can be rendered +aseptic, the grafts may be placed on them directly. + +If it is decided to scrape away the granulations, the oozing must be +arrested by pressure with a pad of gauze, a sheet of dental rubber or +green protective is placed next the raw surface to prevent the gauze +adhering and starting the bleeding afresh when it is removed. + +#Methods of Skin-Grafting.#--Two methods are employed: one in which the +epidermis is mainly or exclusively employed--epidermis or epithelial +grafting; the other, in which the graft consists of the whole thickness +of the true skin--cutis-grafting. + +_Epidermis or Epithelial Grafting._--The method introduced by the late +Professor Thiersch of Leipsic is that almost universally practised. It +consists in transplanting strips of epidermis shaved from the surface of +the skin, the razor passing through the tips of the papillae, which +appear as tiny red points yielding a moderate ooze of blood. + +The strips are obtained from the front and lateral aspects of the thigh +or upper arm, the skin in those regions being pliable and comparatively +free from hairs. + +They are cut with a sharp hollow-ground razor or with Thiersch's +grafting knife, the blade of which is rinsed in alcohol and kept +moistened with warm saline solution. The cutting is made easier if the +skin is well stretched and kept flat and perfectly steady, the +operator's left hand exerting traction on the skin behind, the hands of +the assistant on the skin in front, one above and the other below the +seat of operation. To ensure uniform strips being cut, the razor is kept +parallel with the surface and used with a short, rapid, sawing movement, +so that, with a little practice, grafts six or eight inches long by one +or two inches broad can readily be cut. The patient is given a general +anaesthetic, or regional anaesthesia is obtained by injections of a +solution of one per cent. novocain into the line of the lateral and +middle cutaneous nerves; the disinfection of the skin is carried out on +the usual lines, any chemical agent being finally got rid of, however, +by means of alcohol followed by saline solution. + +The strips of epidermis wrinkle up on the knife and are directly +transferred to the surface, for which they should be made to form a +complete carpet, slightly overlapping the edges of the area and of one +another; some blunt instrument is used to straighten out the strips, +which are then subjected to firm pressure with a pad of gauze to express +blood and air-bells and to ensure accurate contact, for this must be as +close as that between a postage stamp and the paper to which it is +affixed. + +As a dressing for the grafted area and of that also from which the +grafts have been taken, gauze soaked in _liquid paraffin_--the patent +variety known as _ambrine_ is excellent--appears to be the best; the +gauze should be moistened every other day or so with fresh paraffin, so +that, at the end of a week, when the grafts should have united, the +gauze can be removed without risk of detaching them. _Dental wax_ is +another useful type of dressing; as is also _picric acid_ solution. Over +the gauze, there is applied a thick layer of cotton wool, and the whole +dressing is kept in place by a firmly applied bandage, and in the case +of the limbs some form of splint should be added to prevent movement. + +A dressing may be dispensed with altogether, the grafts being protected +by a wire cage such as is used after vaccination, but they tend to dry +up and come to resemble a scab. + +When the grafts have healed, it is well to protect them from injury and +to prevent them drying up and cracking by the liberal application of +lanoline or vaseline. + +The new skin is at first insensitive and is fixed to the underlying +connective tissue or bone, but in course of time (from six weeks +onwards) sensation returns and the formation of elastic tissue beneath +renders the skin pliant and movable so that it can be pinched up between +the finger and thumb. + +_Reverdin's_ method consists in planting out pieces of skin not bigger +than a pin-head over a granulating surface. It is seldom employed. + +_Grafts of the Cutis Vera._--Grafts consisting of the entire thickness +of the true skin were specially advocated by Wolff and are often +associated with his name. They should be cut oval or spindle-shaped, to +facilitate the approximation of the edges of the resulting wound. The +graft should be cut to the exact size of the surface it is to cover; +Gillies believes that tension of the graft favours its taking. These +grafts may be placed either on a fresh raw surface or on healthy +granulations. It is sometimes an advantage to stitch them in position, +especially on the face. The dressing and the after-treatment are the +same as in epidermis grafting. + +There is a degree of uncertainty about the graft retaining its vitality +long enough to permit of its deriving the necessary nourishment from its +new surroundings; in a certain number of cases the flap dies and is +thrown off as a slough--moist or dry according to the presence or +absence of septic infection. + +The technique for cutis-grafting must be without a flaw, and the asepsis +absolute; there must not only be a complete absence of movement, but +there must be no traction on the flap that will endanger its blood +supply. + +Owing to the uncertainty in the results of cutis-grafting the +_two-stage_ or _indirect method_ has been introduced, and its almost +uniform success has led to its sphere of application being widely +extended. The flap is raised as in the direct method but is left +attached at one of its margins for a period ranging from 14 to 21 days +until its blood supply from its new bed is assured; the detachment is +then made complete. The blood supply of the proposed flap may influence +its selection and the way in which it is fashioned; for example, a flap +cut from the side of the head to fill a defect in the cheek, having in +its margin of attachment or pedicle the superficial temporal artery, is +more likely to take than a flap cut with its base above. + +Another modification is to raise the flap but leave it connected at both +ends like the piers of a bridge; this method is well suited to defects +of skin on the dorsum of the fingers, hand and forearm, the bridge of +skin is raised from the abdominal wall and the hand is passed beneath it +and securely fixed in position; after an interval of 14 to 21 days, when +the flap is assured of its blood supply, the piers of the bridge are +divided (Fig. 1). With undermining it is usually easy to bring the +edges of the gap in the abdominal wall together, even in children; the +skin flap on the dorsum of the hand appears rather thick and +prominent--almost like the pad of a boxing-glove--for some time, but +the restoration of function in the capacity to flex the fingers is +gratifying in the extreme. + +[Illustration: FIG. 1.--Ulcer of back of Hand covered by flap of skin +raised from anterior abdominal wall. The lateral edges of the flap are +divided after the graft has adhered.] + +The indirect element of this method of skin-grafting may be carried +still further by transferring the flap of skin first to one part of the +body and then, after it has taken, transferring it to a third part. +Gillies has especially developed this method in the remedying of +deformities of the face caused by gunshot wounds and by petrol burns in +air-men. A rectangular flap of skin is marked out in the neck and chest, +the lateral margins of the flap are raised sufficiently to enable them +to be brought together so as to form a tube of skin: after the +circulation has been restored, the lower end of the tube is detached and +is brought up to the lip or cheek, or eyelid, where it is wanted; when +this end has derived its new blood supply, the other end is detached +from the neck and brought up to where it is wanted. In this way, skin +from the chest may be brought up to form a new forehead and eyelids. + +Grafts of _mucous membrane_ are used to cover defects in the lip, cheek, +and conjunctiva. The technique is similar to that employed in +skin-grafting; the sources of mucous membrane are limited and the +element of septic infection cannot always be excluded. + +_Fat._--Adipose tissue has a low vitality, but it is easily retained and +it readily lends itself to transplantation. Portions of fat are often +obtainable at operations--from the omentum, for example, otherwise the +subcutaneous fat of the buttock is the most accessible; it may be +employed to fill up cavities of all kinds in order to obtain more rapid +and sounder healing and also to remedy deformity, as in filling up a +depression in the cheek or forehead. It is ultimately converted into +ordinary connective tissue _pari passu_ with the absorption of the fat. + +The _fascia lata of the thigh_ is widely and successfully used as a +graft to fill defects in the dura mater, and interposed between the +bones of a joint--if the articular cartilage has been destroyed--to +prevent the occurrence of ankylosis. + +The _peritoneum_ of hydrocele and hernial sacs and of the omentum +readily lends itself to transplantation. + +_Cartilage and bone_, next to skin, are the tissues most frequently +employed for grafting purposes; their sphere of action is so extensive +and includes so much of technical detail in their employment, that they +will be considered later with the surgery of the bones and joints and +with the methods of re-forming the nose. + +_Tendons and blood vessels_ readily lend themselves to transplantation +and will also be referred to later. + +_Muscle and nerve_, on the other hand, do not retain their vitality when +severed from their surroundings and do not functionate as grafts except +for their connective-tissue elements, which it goes without saying are +more readily obtainable from other sources. + +Portions of the _ovary_ and of the _thyreoid_ have been successfully +transplanted into the subcutaneous cellular tissue of the abdominal wall +by Tuffier and others. In these new surroundings, the ovary or thyreoid +is vascularised and has been shown to functionate, but there is not +sufficient regeneration of the essential tissue elements to "carry on"; +the secreting tissue is gradually replaced by connective tissue and the +special function comes to an end. Even such temporary function may, +however, tide a patient over a difficult period. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +CONDITIONS WHICH INTERFERE WITH REPAIR + + +SURGICAL BACTERIOLOGY + +Want of rest--Irritation--Unhealthy tissues--Pathogenic bacteria. + SURGICAL BACTERIOLOGY--General characters of + bacteria--Classification of bacteria--Conditions of bacterial + life--Pathogenic powers of bacteria--Results of bacterial + growth--Death of bacteria--Immunity--Antitoxic sera--Identification + of bacteria--Pyogenic bacteria. + +In the management of wounds and other surgical conditions it is +necessary to eliminate various extraneous influences which tend to delay +or arrest the natural process of repair. + +Of these, one of the most important is undue movement of the affected +part. "The first and great requisite for the restoration of injured +parts is _rest_," said John Hunter; and physiological and mechanical +rest as the chief of natural therapeutic agents was the theme of John +Hilton's classical work--_Rest and Pain_. In this connection it must be +understood that "rest" implies more than the mere state of physical +repose: all physiological as well as mechanical function must be +prevented as far as is possible. For instance, the constituent bones of +a joint affected with tuberculosis must be controlled by splints or +other appliances so that no movement can take place between them, and +the limb may not be used for any purpose; physiological rest may be +secured to an inflamed colon by making an artificial anus in the caecum; +the activity of a diseased kidney may be diminished by regulating the +quantity and quality of the fluids taken by the patient. + +Another source of interference with repair in wounds is _irritation_, +either by mechanical agents such as rough, unsuitable dressings, +bandages, or ill-fitting splints; or by chemical agents in the form of +strong lotions or other applications. + +An _unhealthy or devitalised condition of the patient's tissues_ also +hinders the reparative process. Bruised or lacerated skin heals less +kindly than skin cut with a smooth, sharp instrument; and persistent +venous congestion of a part, such as occurs, for example, in the leg +when the veins are varicose, by preventing the access of healthy blood, +tends to delay the healing of open wounds. The existence of grave +constitutional disease, such as Bright's disease, diabetes, syphilis, +scurvy, or alcoholism, also impedes healing. + +Infection by disease-producing micro-organisms or _pathogenic bacteria_ +is, however, the most potent factor in disturbing the natural process of +repair in wounds. + + +SURGICAL BACTERIOLOGY + +The influence of micro-organisms in the causation of disease, and the +role played by them in interfering with the natural process of repair, +are so important that the science of applied bacteriology has now come +to dominate every department of surgery, and it is from the standpoint +of bacteriology that nearly all surgical questions have to be +considered. + +The term _sepsis_ as now used in clinical surgery no longer retains its +original meaning as synonymous with "putrefaction," but is employed to +denote all conditions in which bacterial infection has taken place, and +more particularly those in which pyogenic bacteria are present. In the +same way the term _aseptic_ conveys the idea of freedom from all forms +of bacteria, putrefactive or otherwise; and the term _antiseptic_ is +used to denote a power of counteracting bacteria and their products. + +#General Characters of Bacteria.#--A _bacterium_ consists of a finely +granular mass of protoplasm, enclosed in a thin gelatinous envelope. +Many forms are motile--some in virtue of fine thread-like flagella, and +others through contractility of the protoplasm. The great majority +multiply by simple fission, each parent cell giving rise to two daughter +cells, and this process goes on with extraordinary rapidity. Other +varieties, particularly bacilli, are propagated by the formation of +_spores_. A spore is a minute mass of protoplasm surrounded by a dense, +tough membrane, developed in the interior of the parent cell. Spores are +remarkable for their tenacity of life, and for the resistance they offer +to the action of heat and chemical germicides. + +Bacteria are most conveniently classified according to their shape. Thus +we recognise (1) those that are globular--_cocci_; (2) those that +resemble a rod--_bacilli_; (3) the spiral or wavy forms--_spirilla_. + +_Cocci_ or _micrococci_ are minute round bodies, averaging about 1 [micron] +in diameter. The great majority are non-motile. They multiply by fission; +and when they divide in such a way that the resulting cells remain in +pairs, are called _diplococci_, of which the bacteria of gonorrhoea and +pneumonia are examples (Fig. 5). When they divide irregularly, and form +grape-like bunches, they are known as _staphylococci_, and to this +variety the commonest pyogenic or pus-forming organisms belong (Fig. 2). +When division takes place only in one axis, so that long chains are +formed, the term _streptococcus_ is applied (Fig. 3). Streptococci are +met with in erysipelas and various other inflammatory and suppurative +processes of a spreading character. + +_Bacilli_ are rod-shaped bacteria, usually at least twice as long as +they are broad (Fig. 4). Some multiply by fission, others by +sporulation. Some forms are motile, others are non-motile. Tuberculosis, +tetanus, anthrax, and many other surgical diseases are due to different +forms of bacilli. + +_Spirilla_ are long, slender, thread-like cells, more or less spiral or +wavy. Some move by a screw-like contraction of the protoplasm, some by +flagellae. The spirochaete associated with syphilis (Fig. 36) is the most +important member of this group. + +#Conditions of Bacterial Life.#--Bacteria require for their growth and +development a suitable food-supply in the form of proteins, +carbohydrates, and salts of calcium and potassium which they break up +into simpler elements. An alkaline medium favours bacterial growth; and +moisture is a necessary condition; spores, however, can survive the want +of water for much longer periods than fully developed bacteria. The +necessity for oxygen varies in different species. Those that require +oxygen are known as _aerobic bacilli_ or _aerobes_; those that cannot +live in the presence of oxygen are spoken of as _anaerobes_. The great +majority of bacteria, however, while they prefer to have oxygen, are +able to live without it, and are called _facultative anaerobes_. + +The most suitable temperature for bacterial life is from 95 to 102 F., +roughly that of the human body. Extreme or prolonged cold paralyses but +does not kill micro-organisms. Few, however, survive being raised to a +temperature of 134.5 F. Boiling for ten to twenty minutes will kill all +bacteria, and the great majority of spores. Steam applied in an +autoclave under a pressure of two atmospheres destroys even the most +resistant spores in a few minutes. Direct sunlight, electric light, or +even diffuse daylight, is inimical to the growth of bacteria, as are +also Rontgen rays and radium emanations. + +#Pathogenic Properties of Bacteria.#--We are now only concerned with +pathogenic bacteria--that is, bacteria capable of producing disease in +the human subject. This capacity depends upon two sets of factors--(1) +certain features peculiar to the invading bacteria, and (2) others +peculiar to the host. Many bacteria have only the power of living upon +dead matter, and are known as _saphrophytes_. Such as do nourish in +living tissue are, by distinction, known as _parasites_. The power a +given parasitic micro-organism has of multiplying in the body and giving +rise to disease is spoken of as its _virulence_, and this varies not +only with different species, but in the same species at different times +and under varying circumstances. The actual number of organisms +introduced is also an important factor in determining their pathogenic +power. Healthy tissues can resist the invasion of a certain number of +bacteria of a given species, but when that number is exceeded, the +organisms get the upper hand and disease results. When the organisms +gain access directly to the blood-stream, as a rule they produce their +effects more certainly and with greater intensity than when they are +introduced into the tissues. + +Further, the virulence of an organism is modified by the condition of +the patient into whose tissues it is introduced. So long as a person is +in good health, the tissues are able to resist the attacks of moderate +numbers of most bacteria. Any lowering of the vitality of the +individual, however, either locally or generally, at once renders him +more susceptible to infection. Thus bruised or torn tissue is much more +liable to infection with pus-producing organisms than tissues clean-cut +with a knife; also, after certain diseases, the liability to infection +by the organisms of diphtheria, pneumonia, or erysipelas is much +increased. Even such slight depression of vitality as results from +bodily fatigue, or exposure to cold and damp, may be sufficient to turn +the scale in the battle between the tissues and the bacteria. Age is an +important factor in regard to the action of certain bacteria. Young +subjects are attacked by diphtheria, tuberculosis, acute osteomyelitis, +and some other diseases with greater frequency and severity than those +of more advanced years. + +In different races, localities, environment, and seasons, the pathogenic +powers of certain organisms, such as those of erysipelas, diphtheria, +and acute osteomyelitis, vary considerably. + +There is evidence that a _mixed infection_--that is, the introduction of +more than one species of organism, for example, the tubercle bacillus +and a pyogenic staphylococcus--increases the severity of the resulting +disease. If one of the varieties gain the ascendancy, the poisons +produced by the others so devitalise the tissue cells, and diminish +their power of resistance, that the virulence of the most active +organisms is increased. On the other hand, there is reason to believe +that the products of certain organisms antagonise one another--for +example, an attack of erysipelas may effect the cure of a patch of +tuberculous lupus. + +Lastly, in patients suffering from chronic wasting diseases, bacteria +may invade the internal organs by the blood-stream in enormous numbers +and with great rapidity, during the period of extreme debility which +shortly precedes death. The discovery of such collections of organisms +on post-mortem examination may lead to erroneous conclusions being drawn +as to the cause of death. + +#Results of Bacterial Growth.#--Some organisms, such as those of tetanus +and erysipelas, and certain of the pyogenic bacteria, show little +tendency to pass far beyond the point at which they gain an entrance to +the body. Others, on the contrary--for example, the tubercle bacillus +and the organism of acute osteomyelitis--although frequently remaining +localised at the seat of inoculation, tend to pass to distant parts, +lodging in the capillaries of joints, bones, kidney, or lungs, and there +producing their deleterious effects. + +In the human subject, multiplication in the blood-stream does not occur +to any great extent. In some general acute pyogenic infections, such as +osteomyelitis, cellulitis, etc., pure cultures of staphylococci or of +streptococci may be obtained from the blood. In pneumococcal and typhoid +infections, also, the organisms may be found in the blood. + +It is by the vital changes they bring about in the parts where they +settle that micro-organisms disturb the health of the patient. In +deriving nourishment from the complex organic compounds in which they +nourish, the organisms evolve, probably by means of a ferment, certain +chemical products of unknown composition, but probably colloidal in +nature, and known as _toxins_. When these poisons are absorbed into the +general circulation they give rise to certain groups of symptoms--such +as rise of temperature, associated circulatory and respiratory +derangements, interference with the gastro-intestinal functions and also +with those of the nervous system--which go to make up the condition +known as blood-poisoning, toxaemia, or _bacterial intoxication_. In +addition to this, certain bacteria produce toxins that give rise to +definite and distinct groups of symptoms--such as the convulsions of +tetanus, or the paralyses that follow diphtheria. + +_Death of Bacteria._--Under certain circumstances, it would appear that +the accumulation of the toxic products of bacterial action tends to +interfere with the continued life and growth of the organisms +themselves, and in this way the natural cure of certain diseases is +brought about. Outside the body, bacteria may be killed by starvation, +by want of moisture, by being subjected to high temperature, or by the +action of certain chemical agents of which carbolic acid, the +perchloride and biniodide of mercury, and various chlorine preparations +are the most powerful. + +#Immunity.#--Some persons are insusceptible to infection by certain +diseases, from which they are said to enjoy a _natural immunity_. In +many acute diseases one attack protects the patient, for a time at +least, from a second attack--_acquired immunity_. + +_Phagocytosis._--In the production of immunity the leucocytes and +certain other cells play an important part in virtue of the power they +possess of ingesting bacteria and of destroying them by a process of +intra-cellular digestion. To this process Metchnikoff gave the name of +_phagocytosis_, and he recognised two forms of _phagocytes_: (1) the +_microphages_, which are the polymorpho-nuclear leucocytes of the blood; +and (2) the _macrophages_, which include the larger hyaline leucocytes, +endothelial cells, and connective-tissue corpuscles. + +During the process of phagocytosis, the polymorpho-nuclear leucocytes in +the circulating blood increase greatly in numbers (_leucocytosis_), as +well as in their phagocytic action, and in the course of destroying the +bacteria they produce certain ferments which enter the blood serum. +These are known as _opsonins_ or _alexins_, and they act on the bacteria +by a process comparable to narcotisation, and render them an easy prey +for the phagocytes. + +_Artificial or Passive Immunity._--A form of immunity can be induced by +the introduction of protective substances obtained from an animal which +has been actively immunised. The process by which passive immunity is +acquired depends upon the fact that as a result of the reaction between +the specific virus of a particular disease (the _antigen_) and the +tissues of the animal attacked, certain substances--_antibodies_--are +produced, which when transferred to the body of a susceptible animal +protect it against that disease. The most important of these antibodies +are the _antitoxins_. From the study of the processes by which immunity +is secured against the effects of bacterial action the serum and vaccine +methods of treating certain infective diseases have been evolved. The +_serum treatment_ is designed to furnish the patient with a sufficiency +of antibodies to neutralise the infection. The anti-diphtheritic and the +anti-tetanic act by neutralising the specific toxins of the +disease--_antitoxic serums_; the anti-streptcoccic and the serum for +anthrax act upon the bacteria--_anti-bacterial serums_. + +A _polyvalent_ serum, that is, one derived from an animal which has been +immunised by numerous strains of the organism derived from various +sources, is much more efficacious than when a single strain has been +used. + +_Clinical Use of Serums._--Every precaution must be taken to prevent +organismal contamination of the serum or of the apparatus by means of +which it is injected. Syringes are so made that they can be sterilised +by boiling. The best situations for injection are under the skin of the +abdomen, the thorax, or the buttock, and the skin should be purified at +the seat of puncture. If the bulk of the full dose is large, it should +be divided and injected into different parts of the body, not more than +20 c.c. being injected at one place. The serum may be introduced +directly into a vein, or into the spinal canal, _e.g._ anti-tetanic +serum. The immunity produced by injections of antitoxic sera lasts only +for a comparatively short time, seldom longer than a few weeks. + +_"Serum Disease" and Anaphylaxis._--It is to be borne in mind that some +patients exhibit a supersensitiveness with regard to protective sera, an +injection being followed in a few days by the appearance of an +urticarial or erythematous rash, pain and swelling of the joints, and a +variable degree of fever. These symptoms, to which the name _serum +disease_ is applied, usually disappear in the course of a few days. + +The term _anaphylaxis_ is applied to an allied condition of +supersensitiveness which appears to be induced by the injection of +certain substances, including toxins and sera, that are capable of +acting as antigens. When a second injection is given after an interval +of some days, if anaphylaxis has been established by the first dose, the +patient suddenly manifests toxic symptoms of the nature of profound +shock which may even prove fatal. The conditions which render a person +liable to develop anaphylaxis and the mechanism by which it is +established are as yet imperfectly understood. + +_Vaccine Treatment._--The vaccine treatment elaborated by A. E. Wright +consists in injecting, while the disease is still active, specially +prepared dead cultures of the causative organisms, and is based on the +fact that these "vaccines" render the bacteria in the tissues less able +to resist the attacks of the phagocytes. The method is most successful +when the vaccine is prepared from organisms isolated from the patient +himself, _autogenous vaccine_, but when this is impracticable, or takes +a considerable time, laboratory-prepared polyvalent _stock vaccines_ may +be used. + +_Clinical Use of Vaccines._--Vaccines should not be given while a +patient is in a negative phase, as a certain amount of the opsonin in +the blood is used up in neutralising the substances injected, and this +may reduce the opsonic index to such an extent that the vaccines +themselves become dangerous. As a rule, the propriety of using a vaccine +can be determined from the general condition of the patient. The initial +dose should always be a small one, particularly if the disease is acute, +and the subsequent dosage will be regulated by the effect produced. If +marked constitutional disturbance with rise of temperature follows the +use of a vaccine, it indicates a negative phase, and calls for a +diminution in the next dose. If, on the other hand, the local as well as +the general condition of the patient improves after the injection, it +indicates a positive phase, and the original dose may be repeated or +even increased. Vaccines are best introduced subcutaneously, a part +being selected which is not liable to pressure, as there is sometimes +considerable local reaction. Repeated doses may be necessary at +intervals of a few days. + +The vaccine treatment has been successfully employed in various +tuberculous lesions, in pyogenic infections such as acne, boils, +sycosis, streptococcal, pneumococcal, and gonococcal conditions, in +infections of the accessory air sinuses, and in other diseases caused by +bacteria. + + +PYOGENIC BACTERIA + +From the point of view of the surgeon the most important varieties of +micro-organisms are those that cause inflammation and suppuration--the +_pyogenic bacteria_. This group includes a great many species, and these +are so widely distributed that they are to be met with under all +conditions of everyday life. + +The nature of the inflammatory and suppurative processes will be +considered in detail later; suffice it here to say that they are brought +about by the action of one or other of the organisms that we have now to +consider. + +It is found that the _staphylococci_, which cluster into groups, tend to +produce localised lesions; while the chain-forms--_streptococci_--give +rise to diffuse, spreading conditions. Many varieties of pyogenic +bacteria have now been differentiated, the best known being the +staphylococcus aureus, the streptococcus, and the bacillus coli +communis. + +[Illustration: FIG. 2.--Staphylococcus aureus in Pus from case of +Osteomyelitis. x 1000 diam. Gram's stain.] + +_Staphylococcus Aureus._--This is the commonest organism found in +localised inflammatory and suppurative conditions. It varies greatly in +its virulence, and is found in such widely different conditions as skin +pustules, boils, carbuncles, and some acute inflammations of bone. As +seen by the microscope it occurs in grape-like clusters, fission of the +individual cells taking place irregularly (Fig. 2). When grown in +artificial media, the colonies assume an orange-yellow colour--hence the +name _aureus_. It is of high vitality and resists more prolonged +exposure to high temperatures than most non-sporing bacteria. It is +capable of lying latent in the tissues for long periods, for example, in +the marrow of long bones, and of again becoming active and causing a +fresh outbreak of suppuration. This organism is widely distributed: it +is found on the skin, in the mouth, and in other situations in the body, +and as it is present in the dust of the air and on all objects upon +which dust has settled, it is a continual source of infection unless +means are taken to exclude it from wounds. + +The _staphylococcus albus_ is much less common than the aureus, but has +the same properties and characters, save that its growth on artificial +media assumes a white colour. It is the common cause of stitch +abscesses, the skin being its normal habitat. + +[Illustration: FIG. 3.--Streptococci in Pus from an acute abscess in +subcutaneous tissue. x 1000 diam. Gram's stain.] + +_Streptococcus Pyogenes._--This organism also varies greatly in its +virulence; in some instances--for example in erysipelas--it causes a +sharp attack of acute spreading inflammation, which soon subsides +without showing any tendency to end in suppuration; under other +conditions it gives rise to a generalised infection which rapidly proves +fatal. The streptococcus has less capacity of liquefying the tissues +than the staphylococcus, so that pus formation takes place more slowly. +At the same time its products are very potent in destroying the tissues +in their vicinity, and so interfering with the exudation of leucocytes +which would otherwise exercise their protective influence. Streptococci +invade the lymph spaces, and are associated with acute spreading +conditions such as phlegmonous or erysipelatous inflammations and +suppurations, lymphangitis and suppuration in lymph glands, and +inflammation of serous and synovial membranes, also with a form of +pneumonia which is prone to follow on severe operations in the mouth and +throat. Streptococci are also concerned in the production of spreading +gangrene and pyaemia. + +Division takes place in one axis, so that chains of varying length are +formed (Fig. 3). It is less easily cultivated by artificial media than +the staphylococcus; it forms a whitish growth. + +[Illustration: FIG. 4.--Bacillus coli communis in Urine, from a case of +Cystitis. x 1000 diam. Leishman's stain.] + +_Bacillus Coli Communis._--This organism, which is a normal inhabitant +of the intestinal tract, shows a great tendency to invade any organ or +tissue whose vitality is lowered. It is causatively associated with such +conditions as peritonitis and peritoneal suppuration resulting from +strangulated hernia, appendicitis, or perforation in any part of the +alimentary canal. In cystitis, pyelitis, abscess of the kidney, +suppuration in the bile-ducts or liver, and in many other abdominal +conditions, it plays a most important part. The discharge from wounds +infected by this organism has usually a foetid, or even a faecal odour, +and often contains gases resulting from putrefaction. + +It is a small rod-shaped organism with short flagellae, which render it +motile (Fig. 4). It closely resembles the typhoid bacillus, but is +distinguished from it by its behaviour in artificial culture media. + +[Illustration: FIG. 5.--Fraenkel's Pneumococci in Pus from Empyema +following Pneumonia. x 100 diam. Stained with Muir's capsule stain.] + +_Pneumo-bacteria._--Two forms of organism associated with +pneumonia--_Fraenkel's pneumococcus_ (one of the diplococci) (Fig. 5) +and _Friedlander's pneumo-bacillus_ (a short rod-shaped form)--are +frequently met with in inflammations of the serous and synovial +membranes, in suppuration in the liver, and in various other +inflammatory and suppurative conditions. + +_Bacillus Typhosus._--This organism has been found in pure culture in +suppurative conditions of bone, of cellular tissue, and of internal +organs, especially during convalescence from typhoid fever. Like the +staphylococcus, it is capable of lying latent in the tissues for long +periods. + +_Other Pyogenic Bacteria._--It is not necessary to do more than name +some of the other organisms that are known to be pyogenic, such as the +bacillus pyocyaneus, which is found in green and blue pus, the +micrococcus tetragenus, the gonococcus, actinomyces, the glanders +bacillus, and the tubercle bacillus. Most of these will receive further +mention in connection with the diseases to which they give rise. + +#Leucocytosis.#--Most bacterial diseases, as well as certain other +pathological conditions, are associated with an increase in the number +of leucocytes in the blood throughout the circulatory system. This +condition of the blood, which is known as _leucocytosis_, is believed to +be due to an excessive output and rapid formation of leucocytes by the +bone marrow, and it probably has as its object the arrest and +destruction of the invading organisms or toxins. To increase the +resisting power of the system to pathogenic organisms, an artificial +leucocytosis may be induced by subcutaneous injection of a solution of +nucleinate of soda (16 minims of a 5 per cent. solution). + +The _normal_ number of leucocytes per cubic millimetre varies in +different individuals, and in the same individual under different +conditions, from 5000 to 10,000: 7500 is a normal average, and anything +above 12,000 is considered abnormal. When leucocytosis is present, the +number may range from 12,000 to 30,000 or even higher; 40,000 is looked +upon as a high degree of leucocytosis. According to Ehrlich, the +following may be taken as the standard proportion of the various forms +of leucocytes in normal blood: polynuclear neutrophile leucocytes, 70 to +72 per cent.; lymphocytes, 22 to 25 per cent.; eosinophile cells, 2 to 4 +per cent.; large mononuclear and transitional leucocytes, 2 to 4 per +cent.; mast-cells, 0.5 to 2 per cent. + +In estimating the clinical importance of a leucocytosis, it is not +sufficient merely to count the aggregate number of leucocytes present. A +differential count must be made to determine which variety of cells is +in excess. In the majority of surgical affections it is chiefly the +granular polymorpho-nuclear neutrophile leucocytes that are in excess +(_ordinary leucocytosis_). In some cases, and particularly in parasitic +diseases such as trichiniasis and hydatid disease, the eosinophile +leucocytes also show a proportionate increase (_eosinophilia_). The term +_lymphocytosis_ is applied when there is an increase in the number of +circulating lymphocytes, as occurs, for example, in lymphatic leucaemia, +and in certain cases of syphilis. + +Leucocytosis is met with in nearly all acute infective diseases, and in +acute pyogenic inflammatory affections, particularly in those attended +with suppuration. In exceptionally acute septic conditions the extreme +virulence of the toxins may prevent the leucocytes reacting, and +leucocytosis may be absent. The absence of leucocytosis in a disease in +which it is usually present is therefore to be looked upon as a grave +omen, particularly when the general symptoms are severe. In some cases +of malignant disease the number of leucocytes is increased to 15,000 or +20,000. A few hours after a severe haemorrhage also there is usually a +leucocytosis of from 15,000 to 30,000, which lasts for three or four +days (Lyon). In cases of haemorrhage the leucocytosis is increased by +infusion of fluids into the circulation. After all operations there is +at least a transient leucocytosis (_post-operative leucocytosis_) +(F. I. Dawson). + +The leucocytosis begins soon after the infection manifests itself--for +example, by shivering, rigor, or rise of temperature. The number of +leucocytes rises somewhat rapidly, increases while the condition is +progressing, and remains high during the febrile period, but there is no +constant correspondence between the number of leucocytes and the height +of the temperature. The arrest of the inflammation and its resolution +are accompanied by a fall in the number of leucocytes, while the +occurrence of suppuration is attended with a further increase in their +number. + +In interpreting the "blood count," it is to be kept in mind that a +_physiological leucocytosis_ occurs within three or four hours of taking +a meal, especially one rich in proteins, from 1500 to 2000 being added +to the normal number. In this _digestion leucocytosis_ the increase is +chiefly in the polynuclear neutrophile leucocytes. Immediately before +and after delivery, particularly in primiparae, there is usually a +moderate degree of leucocytosis. If the labour is normal and the +puerperium uncomplicated, the number of leucocytes regains the normal in +about a week. Lactation has no appreciable effect on the number of +leucocytes. In new-born infants the leucocyte count is abnormally high, +ranging from 15,000 to 20,000. In children under one year of age, the +normal average is from 10,000 to 20,000. + +_Absence of Leucocytosis--Leucopenia._--In certain infective diseases +the number of leucocytes in the circulating blood is abnormally +low--3000 or 4000--and this condition is known as _leucopenia_. It +occurs in typhoid fever, especially in the later stages of the disease, +in tuberculous lesions unaccompanied by suppuration, in malaria, and in +most cases of uncomplicated influenza. The occurrence of leucocytosis in +any of these conditions is to be looked upon as an indication that a +mixed infection has taken place, and that some suppurative process is +present. + +The absence of leucocytosis in some cases of virulent septic poisoning +has already been referred to. + +It will be evident that too much reliance must not be placed upon a +single observation, particularly in emergency cases. Whenever possible, +a series of observations should be made, the blood being examined about +four hours after meals, and about the same hour each day. + +The clinical significance of the blood count in individual diseases will +be further referred to. + +_The Iodine or Glycogen Reaction._--The leucocyte count may be +supplemented by staining films of the blood with a watery solution of +iodine and potassium iodide. In all advancing purulent conditions, in +septic poisonings, in pneumonia, and in cancerous growths associated +with ulceration, a certain number of the polynuclear leucocytes are +stained a brown or reddish-brown colour, due to the action of the iodine +on some substance in the cells of the nature of glycogen. This reaction +is absent in serous effusions, in unmixed tuberculous infections, in +uncomplicated typhoid fever, and in the early stages of cancerous +growths. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +INFLAMMATION + + +Definition--Nature of inflammation from surgical point of + view--Sequence of changes in bacterial inflammation--Clinical + aspects of inflammation--General principles of treatment--Chronic + inflammation. + +Inflammation may be defined as the series of vital changes that occurs +in the tissues in response to irritation. These changes represent the +reaction of the tissue elements to the irritant, and constitute the +attempt made by nature to arrest or to limit its injurious effects, and +to repair the damage done by it. + +The phenomena which characterise the inflammatory reaction can be +induced by any form of irritation--such, for example, as mechanical +injury, the application of heat or of chemical substances, or the action +of pathogenic bacteria and their toxins--and they are essentially +similar in kind whatever the irritant may be. The extent to which the +process may go, however, and its effects on the part implicated and on +the system as a whole, vary with different irritants and with the +intensity and duration of their action. A mechanical, a thermal, or a +chemical irritant, acting alone, induces a degree of reaction directly +proportionate to its physical properties, and so long as it does not +completely destroy the vitality of the part involved, the changes in the +tissues are chiefly directed towards repairing the damage done to the +part, and the inflammatory reaction is not only compatible with the +occurrence of ideal repair, but may be looked upon as an integral step +in the reparative process. + +The irritation caused by infection with bacteria, on the other hand, is +cumulative, as the organisms not only multiply in the tissues, but in +addition produce chemical poisons (toxins) which aggravate the +irritative effects. The resulting reaction is correspondingly +progressive, and has as its primary object the expulsion of the irritant +and the limitation of its action. If the natural protective effort is +successful, the resulting tissue changes subserve the process of repair, +but if the bacteria gain the upper hand in the struggle, the +inflammatory reaction becomes more intense, certain of the tissue +elements succumb, and the process for the time being is a destructive +one. During the stage of bacterial inflammation, reparative processes +are in abeyance, and it is only after the inflammation has been allayed, +either by natural means or by the aid of the surgeon, that repair takes +place. + +In applying the antiseptic principle to the treatment of wounds, our +main object is to exclude or to eliminate the bacterial factor, and so +to prevent the inflammatory reaction going beyond the stage in which it +is protective, and just in proportion as we succeed in attaining this +object, do we favour the occurrence of ideal repair. + +#Sequence of Changes in Bacterial Inflammation.#--As the form of +inflammation with which we are most concerned is that due to the action +of bacteria, in describing the process by which the protective influence +of the inflammatory reaction is brought into play, we shall assume the +presence of a bacterial irritant. + +The introduction of a colony of micro-organisms is quickly followed by +an accumulation of wandering cells, and proliferation of +connective-tissue cells in the tissues at the site of infection. The +various cells are attracted to the bacteria by a peculiar chemical or +biological power known as _chemotaxis_, which seems to result from +variations in the surface tension of different varieties of cells, +probably caused by some substance produced by the micro-organisms. +Changes in the blood vessels then ensue, the arteries becoming dilated +and the rate of the current in them being for a time increased--_active +hyperaemia_. Soon, however, the rate of the blood flow becomes slower +than normal, and in course of time the current may cease (_stasis_), and +the blood in the vessels may even coagulate (_thrombosis_). Coincidently +with these changes in the vessels, the leucocytes in the blood of the +inflamed part rapidly increase in number, and they become viscous and +adhere to the vessel wall, where they may accumulate in large numbers. +In course of time the leucocytes pass through the vessel +wall--_emigration of leucocytes_--and move towards the seat of +infection, giving rise to a marked degree of _local leucocytosis_. +Through the openings by which the leucocytes have escaped from the +vessels, red corpuscles may be passively extruded--_diapedesis of red +corpuscles_. These processes are accompanied by changes in the +endothelium of the vessel walls, which result in an increased formation +of lymph, which transudes into the meshes of the connective tissue +giving rise to an _inflammatory oedema_, or, if the inflammation is on a +free surface, forming an _inflammatory exudate_. The quantity and +characters of this exudate vary in different parts of the body, and +according to the nature, virulence, and location of the organisms +causing the inflammation. Thus it may be _serous_, as in some forms of +synovitis; _sero-fibrinous_, as in certain varieties of peritonitis, the +fibrin tending to limit the spread of the inflammation by forming +adhesions; _croupous_, when it coagulates on a free surface and forms a +false membrane, as in diphtheria; _haemorrhagic_ when mixed with blood; +or _purulent_, when suppuration has occurred. The protective effects of +the inflammatory reaction depend for the most part upon the transudation +of lymph and the emigration of leucocytes. The lymph contains the +opsonins which act on the bacteria and render them less able to resist +the attack of the phagocytes, as well as the various protective +antibodies which neutralise the toxins. The polymorph leucocytes are the +principal agents in the process of phagocytosis (p. 22), and together +with the other forms of phagocytes they ingest and destroy the bacteria. + +If the attempt to repel the invading organisms is successful, the +irritant effects are overcome, the inflammation is arrested, and +_resolution_ is said to take place. + +Certain of the vascular and cellular changes are now utilised to restore +the condition to the normal, and _repair_ ensues after the manner +already described. In certain situations, notably in tendon sheaths, in +the cavities of joints, and in the interior of serous cavities, for +example the pleura and peritoneum, the restoration to the normal is not +perfect, adhesions forming between the opposing surfaces. + +If, however, the reaction induced by the infection is insufficient to +check the growth and spread of the organisms, or to inhibit their toxin +production, local necrosis of tissue may take place, either in the form +of suppuration or of gangrene, or the toxins absorbed into the +circulation may produce blood-poisoning, which may even prove fatal. + +#Clinical Aspects of Inflammation.#--It must clearly be understood that +inflammation is not to be looked upon as a disease in itself, but rather +as an evidence of some infective process going on in the tissues in +which it occurs, and of an effort on the part of these tissues to +overcome the invading organisms and their products. The chief danger to +the patient lies, not in the reactive changes that constitute the +inflammatory process, but in the fact that he is liable to be poisoned +by the toxins of the bacteria at work in the inflamed area. + +Since the days of Celsus (first century A.D.), heat, redness, swelling, +and pain have been recognised as cardinal signs of inflammation, and to +these may be added, interference with function in the inflamed part, and +general constitutional disturbance. Variations in these signs and +symptoms depend upon the acuteness of the condition, the nature of the +causative organism and of the tissue attacked, the situation of the part +in relation to the surface, and other factors. + +The _heat_ of the inflamed part is to be attributed to the increased +quantity of blood present in it, and the more superficial the affected +area the more readily is the local increase of temperature detected by +the hand. This clinical point is best tested by placing the palm of the +hand and fingers for a few seconds alternately over an uninflamed and an +inflamed area, otherwise under similar conditions as to coverings and +exposure. In this way even slight differences may be recognised. + +_Redness_, similarly, is due to the increased afflux of blood to the +inflamed part. The shade of colour varies with the stage of the +inflammation, being lighter and brighter in the early, hyperaemic stages, +and darker and duskier when the blood flow is slowed or when stasis has +occurred and the oxygenation of the blood is defective. In the +thrombotic stage the part may assume a purplish hue. + +The _swelling_ is partly due to the increased amount of blood in the +affected part and to the accumulation of leucocytes and proliferated +tissue cells, but chiefly to the exudate in the connective +tissue--_inflammatory oedema_. The more open the structure of the tissue +of the part, the greater is the amount of swelling--witness the marked +degree of oedema that occurs in such parts as the scrotum or the eyelids. + +_Pain_ is a symptom seldom absent in inflammation. _Tenderness_--that +is, pain elicited on pressure--is one of the most valuable diagnostic +signs we possess, and is often present before pain is experienced by the +patient. That the area of tenderness corresponds to the area of +inflammation is almost an axiom of surgery. Pain and tenderness are due +to the irritation of nerve filaments of the part, rendered all the more +sensitive by the abnormal conditions of their blood supply. In +inflammatory conditions of internal organs, for example the abdominal +viscera, the pain is frequently referred to other parts, usually to an +area supplied by branches from the same segment of the cord as that +supplying the inflamed part. + +For purposes of diagnosis, attention should be paid to the terms in +which the patient describes his pain. For example, the pain caused by +an inflammation of the skin is usually described as of a _burning_ or +_itching_ character; that of inflammation in dense tissues like +periosteum or bone, or in encapsuled organs, as _dull_, _boring_, or +_aching_. When inflammation is passing on to suppuration the pain +assumes a _throbbing_ character, and as the pus reaches the surface, or +"points," as it is called, sharp, _darting_, or _lancinating_ pains are +experienced. Inflammation involving a nerve-trunk may cause a _boring_ +or a _tingling_ pain; while the implication of a serous membrane such as +the pleura or peritoneum gives rise to a pain of a sharp, _stabbing_ +character. + +_Interference with the function_ of the inflamed part is always present +to a greater or less extent. + +#Constitutional Disturbances.#--Under the term constitutional +disturbances are included the presence of fever or elevation of +temperature; certain changes in the pulse rate and the respiration; +gastro-intestinal and urinary disturbances; and derangements of the +central nervous system. These are all due to the absorption of toxins +into the general circulation. + +_Temperature._--A marked rise of temperature is one of the most constant +and important concomitants of acute inflammatory conditions, and the +temperature chart forms a fairly reliable index of the state of the +patient. The toxins interfere with the nerve-centres in the medulla that +regulate the balance between the production and the loss of body heat. + +Clinically the temperature is estimated by means of a self-registering +thermometer placed, for from one to five minutes, in close contact with +the skin in the axilla, or in the mouth. Sometimes the thermometer is +inserted into the rectum, where, however, the temperature is normally +3/4 F. higher than in the axilla. + +_In health_ the temperature of the body is maintained at a mean of about +98.4 F. (37 C.) by the heat-regulating mechanism. It varies from hour +to hour even in health, reaching its maximum between four and eight in +the evening, when it may rise to 99 F., and is at its lowest between +four and six in the morning, when it may be about 97 F. + +The temperature is more easily disturbed in children than in adults, and +may become markedly elevated (104 or 105 F.) from comparatively slight +causes; in the aged it is less liable to change, so that a rise to 103 +or 104 F. is to be looked upon as indicating a high state of fever. + +A sudden rise of temperature is usually associated with a feeling of +chilliness down the back and in the limbs, which may be so marked that +the patient shivers violently, while the skin becomes cold, pale, and +shrivelled--_cutis anserina_. This is a nervous reaction due to a want +of correspondence between the internal and the surface temperature of +the body, and is known clinically as a _rigor_. When the temperature +rises gradually the chill is usually slight and may be unobserved. Even +during the cold stage, however, the internal temperature is already +raised, and by the time the chill has passed off its maximum has been +reached. + +The _pulse_ is always increased in frequency, and usually varies +directly with the height of the temperature. _Respiration_ is more +active during the progress of an inflammation; and bronchial catarrh is +common apart from any antecedent respiratory disease. + +_Gastro-intestinal disturbances_ take the form of loss of appetite, +vomiting, diminished secretion of the alimentary juices, and weakening +of the peristalsis of the bowel, leading to thirst, dry, furred tongue, +and constipation. Diarrhoea is sometimes present. The _urine_ is usually +scanty, of high specific gravity, rich in nitrogenous substances, +especially urea and uric acid, and in calcium salts, while sodium +chloride is deficient. Albumin and hyaline casts may be present in cases +of severe inflammation with high temperature. The significance of +general _leucocytosis_ has already been referred to. + +#General Principles of Treatment.#--The capacity of the inflammatory +reaction for dealing with bacterial infections being limited, it often +becomes necessary for the surgeon to aid the natural defensive +processes, as well as to counteract the local and general effects of the +reaction, and to relieve symptoms. + +The ideal means of helping the tissues is by removing the focus of +infection, and when this can be done, as for example in a carbuncle or +an anthrax pustule, the infected area may be completely excised. When +the focus is not sufficiently limited to admit of this, the infected +tissue may be scraped away with the sharp spoon, or destroyed by +caustics or by the actual cautery. If this is inadvisable, the organisms +may be attacked by strong antiseptics, such as pure carbolic acid. + +Moist dressings favour the removal of bacteria by promoting the escape +of the inflammatory exudate, in which they are washed out. + +#Artificial Hyperaemia.#--When such direct means as the above are +impracticable, much can be done to aid the tissues in their struggle by +improving the condition of the circulation in the inflamed area, so as +to ensure that a plentiful supply of fresh arterial blood reaches it. +The beneficial effects of _hot fomentations and poultices_ depend on +their causing a dilatation of the vessels, and so inducing a hyperaemia +in the affected area. It has been shown experimentally that repeated, +short applications of moist heat (not exceeding 106 F.) are more +efficacious than continuous application. It is now believed that the +so-called _counter-irritants_--mustard, iodine, cantharides, actual +cautery--act in the same way; and the method of treating erysipelas by +applying a strong solution of iodine around the affected area is based +on the same principle. + +[Illustration: FIG. 6.--Passive Hyperaemia of Hand and Forearm induced by +Bier's Bandage.] + +While these and similar methods have long been employed in the treatment +of inflammatory conditions, it is only within comparatively recent years +that their mode of action has been properly understood, and to August +Bier belongs the credit of having put the treatment of inflammation on a +scientific and rational basis. Recognising the "beneficent intention" of +the inflammatory reaction, and the protective action of the leucocytosis +which accompanies the hyperaemic stages of the process, Bier was led to +study the effects of increasing the hyperaemia by artificial means. As a +result of his observations, he has formulated a method of treatment +which consists in inducing an artificial hyperaemia in the inflamed area, +either by obstructing the venous return from the part (_passive +hyperaemia_), or by stimulating the arterial flow through it (_active +hyperaemia_). + +_Bier's Constricting Bandage._--To induce a _passive hyperaemia_ in a +limb, an elastic bandage is applied some distance above the inflamed +area sufficiently tightly to obstruct the venous return from the distal +parts without arresting in any way the inflow of arterial blood (Fig. 6). +If the constricting band is correctly applied, the parts beyond +become swollen and oedematous, and assume a bluish-red hue, but they +retain their normal temperature, the pulse is unchanged, and there is no +pain. If the part becomes blue, cold, or painful, or if any existing +pain is increased, the band has been applied too tightly. The hyperaemia +is kept up from twenty to twenty-two hours out of the twenty-four, and +in the intervals the limb is elevated to get rid of the oedema and to +empty it of impure blood, and so make room for a fresh supply of healthy +blood when the bandage is re-applied. As the inflammation subsides, the +period during which the band is kept on each day is diminished; but the +treatment should be continued for some days after all signs of +inflammation have subsided. + +This method of treating acute inflammatory conditions necessitates +close supervision until the correct degree of tightness of the band has +been determined. + +[Illustration: FIG. 7.--Passive Hyperaemia of Finger induced by Klapp's +Suction Bell.] + +_Klapp's Suction Bells._--In inflammatory conditions to which the +constricting band cannot be applied, as for example an acute mastitis, a +bubo in the groin, or a boil on the neck, the affected area may be +rendered hyperaemic by an appropriately shaped glass bell applied over it +and exhausted by means of a suction-pump, the rarefaction of the air in +the bell determining a flow of blood into the tissues enclosed within it +(Figs. 7 and 8). The edge of the bell is smeared with vaseline, and the +suction applied for from five to ten minutes at a time, with a +corresponding interval between the applications. Each sitting lasts for +from half an hour to an hour, and the treatment may be carried out once +or twice a day according to circumstances. This apparatus acts in the +same way as the old-fashioned _dry cup_, and is more convenient and +equally efficacious. + +[Illustration: FIG. 8.--Passive Hyperaemia induced by Klapp's Suction +Bell for Inflammation of Inguinal Gland.] + +_Active hyperaemia_ is induced by the local application of heat, +particularly by means of hot air. It has not proved so useful in acute +inflammation as passive hyperaemia, but is of great value in hastening +the absorption of inflammatory products and in overcoming adhesions and +stiffness in tendons and joints. + +_General Treatment._--The patient should be kept at rest, preferably in +bed, to diminish the general tissue waste; and the diet should be +restricted to fluids, such as milk, beef-tea, meat juices or gruel, and +these may be rendered more easily assimilable by artificial digestion if +necessary. To counteract the general effect of toxins absorbed into +the circulation, specific antitoxic sera are employed in certain forms +of infection, such as diphtheria, streptococcal septicaemia, and tetanus. +In other forms of infection, vaccines are employed to increase the +opsonic power of the blood. When such means are not available, the +circulating toxins may to some extent be diluted by giving plenty of +bland fluids by the mouth or normal salt solution by the rectum. + +The elimination of the toxins is promoted by securing free action of the +emunctories. A saline purge, such as half an ounce of sulphate of +magnesium in a small quantity of water, ensures a free evacuation of the +bowels. The kidneys are flushed by such diluent drinks as equal parts of +milk and lime water, or milk with a dram of liquor calcis saccharatus +added to each tumblerful. Barley-water and "Imperial drink," which +consists of a dram and a half of cream of tartar added to a pint of +boiling water and sweetened with sugar after cooling, are also useful +and non-irritating diuretics. The skin may be stimulated by Dover's +powder (10 grains) or liquor ammoniae acetatis in three-dram doses every +four hours. + +Various drugs administered internally, such as quinine, salol, +salicylate of iron, and others, have a reputation, more or less +deserved, as internal antiseptics. + +Weakness of the heart, as indicated by the condition of the pulse, is +treated by the use of such drugs as digitalis, strophanthus, or +strychnin, according to circumstances. + +Gastro-intestinal disturbances are met by ordinary medical means. +Vomiting, for example, can sometimes be checked by effervescing drinks, +such as citrate of caffein, or by dilute hydrocyanic acid and bismuth. +In severe cases, and especially when the vomited matter resembles +coffee-grounds from admixture with altered blood--the so-called +post-operative haematemesis--the best means of arresting the vomiting is +by washing out the stomach. Thirst is relieved by rectal injections of +saline solution. The introduction of saline solution into the veins or +by the rectum is also useful in diluting and hastening the elimination +of circulating toxins. + +In surgical inflammations, as a rule, nothing is gained by lowering the +temperature, unless at the same time the cause is removed. When severe +or prolonged pyrexia becomes a source of danger, the use of hot or cold +sponging, or even the cold bath, is preferable to the administration of +drugs. + +_Relief of Symptoms._--For the relief of _pain_, rest is essential. The +inflamed part should be placed in a splint or other appliance which will +prevent movement, and steps must be taken to reduce its functional +activity as far as possible. Locally, warm and moist dressings, such as +a poultice or fomentation, may be used. To make a fomentation, a piece +of flannel or lint is wrung out of very hot water or antiseptic lotion +and applied under a sheet of mackintosh. Fomentations should be renewed +as often as they cool. An ordinary india-rubber bag filled with hot +water and fixed over the fomentation, by retaining the heat, obviates +the necessity of frequently changing the application. The addition of a +few drops of laudanum sprinkled on the flannel has a soothing effect. +Lead and opium lotion is a useful, soothing application employed as a +fomentation. We prefer the application of lint soaked in a 10 per cent. +aqueous or glycerine solution of ichthyol, or smeared with ichthyol +ointment (1 in 3). Belladonna and glycerine, equal parts, may be used. + +Dry cold obtained by means of icebags, or by Leiter's lead tubes through +which a continuous stream of ice-cold water is kept flowing, is +sometimes soothing to the patient, but when the vessels in the inflamed +part are greatly congested its use is attended with considerable risk, +as it not only contracts the arterioles supplying the part, but also +diminishes the outflow of venous blood, and so may determine gangrene of +tissues already devitalised. + +A milder form of employing cold is by means of evaporating lotions: a +thin piece of lint or gauze is applied over the inflamed part and kept +constantly moist with the lotion, the dressing being left freely exposed +to allow of continuous evaporation. A useful evaporating lotion is made +up as follows: take of chloride of ammonium, half an ounce; rectified +spirit, one ounce; and water, seven ounces. + +The administration of opiates may be necessary for the relief of pain. + +The accumulation of an excessive amount of inflammatory exudate may +endanger the vitality of the tissues by pressing on the blood vessels to +such an extent as to cause stasis, and by concentrating the local action +of the toxins. Under such conditions the tension should be relieved and +the exudate with its contained toxins removed by making an incision into +the inflamed tissues, and applying a suction bell. When the exudate has +collected in a synovial cavity, such as a joint or bursa, it may be +withdrawn by means of a trocar and cannula. There are other methods of +withdrawing blood and exudate from an inflamed area, for example by +leeches or wet-cupping, but they are seldom employed now. + +Before applying leeches the part must be thoroughly cleansed, and if +the leech is slow to bite, may be smeared with cream. The leech is +retained in position under an inverted wine-glass or wide test-tube till +it takes hold. After it has sucked its fill it usually drops off, having +withdrawn a dram or a dram and a half of blood. If it be desirable to +withdraw more blood, hot fomentations should be applied to the bite. As +it is sometimes necessary to employ considerable pressure to stop the +bleeding, leeches should, if possible, be applied over a bone which will +furnish the necessary resistance. The use of styptics may be called for. + +_Wet-cupping_ has almost entirely been superseded by the use of Klapp's +suction bells. + +_General blood-letting_ consists in opening a superficial vein +(venesection) and allowing from eight to ten ounces of blood to flow +from it. It is seldom used in the treatment of surgical forms of +inflammation. + +_Counter-irritants._--In deep-seated inflammations, counter-irritants +are sometimes employed in the form of mustard leaves or blisters, +according to the degree of irritation required. A mustard leaf or +plaster should not be left on longer than ten or fifteen minutes, unless +it is desired to produce a blister. Blistering may be produced by a +_cantharides plaster_, or by painting with _liquor epispasticus_. The +plaster should be left on from eight to ten hours, and if it has failed +to raise a blister, a hot fomentation should be applied to the part. +_Liquor epispasticus_, alone or mixed with equal parts of collodion, is +painted on the part with a brush. Several paintings are often required +before a blister is raised. The preliminary removal of the natural +grease from the skin favours the action of these applications. + +The treatment of inflammation in special tissues and organs will be +considered in the sections devoted to regional surgery. + +#Chronic Inflammation.#--A variety of types of chronic and subacute +inflammation are met with which, owing to ignorance of their causations, +cannot at present be satisfactorily classified. + +The best defined group is that of the _granulomata_, which includes such +important diseases as tuberculosis and syphilis, and in which different +types of chronic inflammation are caused by infection with a specific +organism, all having the common character, however, that abundant +granulation tissue is formed in which cellular changes are more in +evidence than changes in the blood vessels, and in which the subsequent +degeneration and necrosis of the granulation tissue results in the +breaking down and destruction of the tissue in which it is formed. +Another group is that in which chronic inflammation is due to mild or +attenuated forms of pyogenic infection affecting especially the lymph +glands and the bone marrow. In the glands of the groin, for example, +associated with various forms of irritation about the external genitals, +different types of _chronic lymphadenitis_ are met with; they do not +frankly suppurate as do the acute types, but are attended with a +hyperplasia of the tissue elements which results in enlargement of the +affected glands of a persistent, and sometimes of a relapsing character. +Similar varieties of _osteomyelitis_ are met with that do not, like the +acute forms, go on to suppuration or to death of bone, but result in +thickening of the bone affected, both on the surface and in the +interior, resulting in obliteration of the medullary canal. + +A third group of chronic inflammations are those that begin as an acute +pyogenic inflammation, which, instead of resolving completely, persists +in a chronic form. It does so apparently because there is some factor +aiding the organisms and handicapping the tissues, such as the presence +of a foreign body, a piece of glass or metal, or a piece of dead bone; +in these circumstances the inflammation persists in a chronic form, +attended with the formation of fibrous tissue, and, in the case of bone, +with the formation of new bone in excess. It will be evident that in +this group, chronic inflammation and repair are practically +interchangeable terms. + +There are other groups of chronic inflammation, the origin of which +continues to be the subject of controversy. Reference is here made to +the chronic inflammations of the synovial membrane of joints, of tendon +sheaths and of bursae--_chronic synovitis_, _teno-synovitis_ and +_bursitis_; of the fibrous tissues of joints--chronic forms of +_arthritis_; of the blood vessels--chronic forms of _endarteritis_ and +of _phlebitis_ and of the peripheral nerves--_neuritis_. Also in the +breast and in the prostate, with the waning of sexual life there may +occur a formation of fibrous tissue--chronic _interstitial mastitis_, +_chronic prostatitis_, having analogies with the chronic interstitial +inflammations of internal organs like the kidney--_chronic interstitial +nephritis_; and in the breast and prostate, as in the kidney, the +formation of fibrous tissue leads to changes in the secreting epithelium +resulting in the formation of cysts. + +Lastly, there are still other types of chronic inflammation attended +with the formation of fibrous tissue on such a liberal scale as to +suggest analogies with new growths. The best known of these are the +systematic forms of fibromatosis met with in the central nervous system +and in the peripheral nerves--_neuro-fibromatosis_; in the submucous +coat of the stomach--_gastric fibromatosis_; and in the +colon--_intestinal fibromatosis_. + +These conditions will be described with the tissues and organs in which +they occur. + +In the _treatment of chronic inflammations_, pending further knowledge +as to their causation, and beyond such obvious indications as to help +the tissues by removing a foreign body or a piece of dead bone, there +are employed--empirically--a number of procedures such as the induction +of hyperaemia, exposure to the X-rays, and the employment of blisters, +cauteries, and setons. Vaccines may be had recourse to in those of +bacterial origin. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SUPPURATION + + +Definition--Pus--_Varieties_--Acute circumscribed abscess--_Acute + suppuration in a wound_--_Acute Suppuration in a mucous + membrane_--Diffuse cellulitis and diffuse suppuration-- + _Whitlow_--_Suppurative cellulitis in different situations_--Chronic + suppuration--Sinus, Fistula--Constitutional manifestations of + pyogenic infection--_Sapraemia_--_Septicaemia_--_Pyaemia_. + +Suppuration, or the formation of pus, is one of the results of the +action of bacteria on the tissues. The invading organism is usually one +of the staphylococci, less frequently a streptococcus, and still less +frequently one of the other bacteria capable of producing pus, such as +the bacillus coli communis, the gonococcus, the pneumococcus, or the +typhoid bacillus. + +So long as the tissues are in a healthy condition they are able to +withstand the attacks of moderate numbers of pyogenic bacteria of +ordinary virulence, but when devitalised by disease, by injury, or by +inflammation due to the action of other pathogenic organisms, +suppuration ensues. + +It would appear, for example, that pyogenic organisms can pass through +the healthy urinary tract without doing any damage, but if the pelvis of +the kidney, the ureter, or the bladder is the seat of stone, they give +rise to suppuration. Similarly, a calculus in one of the salivary ducts +frequently results in an abscess forming in the floor of the mouth. When +the lumen of a tubular organ, such as the appendix or the Fallopian tube +is blocked also, the action of pyogenic organisms is favoured and +suppuration ensues. + +#Pus.#--The fluid resulting from the process of suppuration is known +as _pus_. In its typical form it is a yellowish creamy substance, of +alkaline reaction, with a specific gravity of about 1030, and it has a +peculiar mawkish odour. If allowed to stand in a test-tube it does not +coagulate, but separates into two layers: the upper, transparent, +straw-coloured fluid, the _liquor puris_ or pus serum, closely +resembling blood serum in its composition, but containing less protein +and more cholestrol; it also contains leucin, tyrosin, and certain +albumoses which prevent coagulation. + +The layer at the bottom of the tube consists for the most part of +polymorph leucocytes, and proliferated connective tissue and endothelial +cells (_pus corpuscles_). Other forms of leucocytes may be present, +especially in long-standing suppurations; and there are usually some red +corpuscles, dead bacteria, fat cells and shreds of tissue, cholestrol +crystals, and other detritus in the deposit. + +If a film of fresh pus is examined under the microscope, the pus cells +are seen to have a well-defined rounded outline, and to contain a finely +granular protoplasm and a multi-partite nucleus; if still warm, the +cells may exhibit amoeboid movement. In stained films the nuclei take the +stain well. In older pus cells the outline is irregular, the protoplasm +coarsely granular, and the nuclei disintegrated, no longer taking the +stain. + +_Variations from Typical Pus._--Pus from old-standing sinuses is often +watery in consistence (ichorous), with few cells. Where the granulations +are vascular and bleed easily, it becomes sanious from admixture with +red corpuscles; while, if a blood-clot be broken down and the debris +mixed with the pus, it contains granules of blood pigment and is said to +be "grumous." The _odour_ of pus varies with the different bacteria +producing it. Pus due to ordinary pyogenic cocci has a mawkish odour; +when putrefactive organisms are present it has a putrid odour; when it +forms in the vicinity of the intestinal canal it usually contains the +bacillus coli communis and has a faecal odour. + +The _colour_ of pus also varies: when due to one or other of the +varieties of the bacillus pyocyaneus, it is usually of a blue or green +colour; when mixed with bile derivatives or altered blood pigment, it +may be of a bright orange colour. In wounds inflicted with rough iron +implements from which rust is deposited, the pus often presents the same +colour. + +The pus may form and collect within a circumscribed area, constituting a +localised _abscess_; or it may infiltrate the tissues over a wide +area--_diffuse suppuration_. + + +ACUTE CIRCUMSCRIBED ABSCESS + +Any tissue of the body may be the seat of an acute abscess, and there +are many routes by which the bacteria may gain access to the affected +area. For example: an abscess in the integument or subcutaneous +cellular tissue usually results from infection by organisms which have +entered through a wound or abrasion of the surface, or along the ducts +of the skin; an abscess in the breast from organisms which have passed +along the milk ducts opening on the nipple, or along the lymphatics +which accompany these. An abscess in a lymph gland is usually due to +infection passing by way of the lymph channels from the area of skin or +mucous membrane drained by them. Abscesses in internal organs, such as +the kidney, liver, or brain, usually result from organisms carried in +the blood-stream from some focus of infection elsewhere in the body. + +A knowledge of the possible avenues of infection is of clinical +importance, as it may enable the source of a given abscess to be traced +and dealt with. In suppuration in the Fallopian tube (pyosalpynx), for +example, the fact that the most common origin of the infection is in the +genital passage, leads to examination for vaginal discharge; and if none +is present, the abscess is probably due to infection carried in the +blood-stream from some primary focus about the mouth, such as a gumboil +or an infective sore throat. + +The exact location of an abscess also may furnish a key to its source; +in axillary abscess, for example, if the suppuration is in the lymph +glands the infection has come through the afferent lymphatics; if in the +cellular tissue, it has spread from the neck or chest wall; if in the +hair follicles, it is a local infection through the skin. + +#Formation of an Abscess.#--When pyogenic bacteria are introduced into +the tissue there ensues an inflammatory reaction, which is characterised +by dilatation of the blood vessels, exudation of large numbers of +leucocytes, and proliferation of connective-tissue cells. These +wandering cells soon accumulate round the focus of infection, and form a +protective barrier which tends to prevent the spread of the organisms +and to restrict their field of action. Within the area thus +circumscribed the struggle between the bacteria and the phagocytes takes +place, and in the process toxins are formed by the organisms, a certain +number of the leucocytes succumb, and, becoming degenerated, set free +certain proteolytic enzymes or ferments. The toxins cause +coagulation-necrosis of the tissue cells with which they come in +contact, the ferments liquefy the exudate and other albuminous +substances, and in this way _pus_ is formed. + +If the bacteria gain the upper hand, this process of liquefaction which +is characteristic of suppuration, extends into the surrounding tissues, +the protective barrier of leucocytes is broken down, and the +suppurative process spreads. A fresh accession of leucocytes, however, +forms a new barrier, and eventually the spread is arrested, and the +collection of pus so hemmed in constitutes an _abscess_. + +Owing to the swelling and condensation of the parts around, the pus thus +formed is under considerable pressure, and this causes it to burrow +along the lines of least resistance. In the case of a subcutaneous +abscess the pus usually works its way towards the surface, and "points," +as it is called. Where it approaches the surface the skin becomes soft +and thin, and eventually sloughs, allowing the pus to escape. + +An abscess forming in the deeper planes is prevented from pointing +directly to the surface by the firm fasciae and other fibrous structures. +The pus therefore tends to burrow along the line of the blood vessels +and in the connective-tissue septa, till it either finds a weak spot or +causes a portion of fascia to undergo necrosis and so reaches the +surface. Accordingly, many abscess cavities resulting from deep-seated +suppuration are of irregular shape, with pouches and loculi in various +directions--an arrangement which interferes with their successful +treatment by incision and drainage. + +The relief of tension which follows the bursting of an abscess, the +removal of irritation by the escape of pus, and the casting off of +bacteria and toxins, allow the tissues once more to assert themselves, +and a process of repair sets in. The walls of the abscess fall in; +granulation tissue grows into the space and gradually fills it; and +later this is replaced by cicatricial tissue. As a result of the +subsequent contraction of the cicatricial tissue, the scar is usually +depressed below the level of the surrounding skin surface. + +If an abscess is prevented from healing--for example, by the presence of +a foreign body or a piece of necrosed bone--a sinus results, and from it +pus escapes until the foreign body is removed. + +#Clinical Features of an Acute Circumscribed Abscess.#--In the initial +stages the usual symptoms of inflammation are present. Increased +elevation of temperature, with or without a rigor, progressive +leucocytosis, and sweating, mark the transition between inflammation and +suppuration. An increasing leucocytosis is evidence that a suppurative +process is spreading. + +The local symptoms vary with the seat of the abscess. When it is +situated superficially--for example, in the breast tissue--the affected +area is hot, the redness of inflammation gives place to a dusky purple +colour, with a pale, sometimes yellow, spot where the pus is near the +surface. The swelling increases in size, the firm brawny centre becomes +soft, projects as a cone beyond the level of the rest of the swollen +area, and is usually surrounded by a zone of induration. + +By gently palpating with the finger-tips over the softened area, a fluid +wave may be detected--_fluctuation_--and when present this is a certain +indication of the existence of fluid in the swelling. Its recognition, +however, is by no means easy, and various fallacies are to be guarded +against in applying this test clinically. When, for example, the walls +of the abscess are thick and rigid, or when its contents are under +excessive tension, the fluid wave cannot be elicited. On the other hand, +a sensation closely resembling fluctuation may often be recognised in +oedematous tissues, in certain soft, solid tumours such as fatty tumours +or vascular sarcomata, in aneurysm, and in a muscle when it is palpated +in its transverse axis. + +When pus has formed in deeper parts, and before it has reached the +surface, oedema of the overlying skin is frequently present, and the skin +pits on pressure. + +With the formation of pus the continuous burning or boring pain of +inflammation assumes a throbbing character, with occasional sharp, +lancinating twinges. Should doubt remain as to the presence of pus, +recourse may be had to the use of an exploring needle. + +_Differential Diagnosis of Acute Abscess._--A practical difficulty which +frequently arises is to decide whether or not pus has actually formed. +It may be accepted as a working rule in practice that when an acute +inflammation has lasted for four or five days without showing signs of +abatement, suppuration has almost certainly occurred. In deep-seated +suppuration, marked oedema of the skin and the occurrence of rigors and +sweating may be taken to indicate the formation of pus. + +There are cases on record where rapidly growing sarcomatous and +angiomatous tumours, aneurysms, and the bruises that occur in +haemophylics, have been mistaken for acute abscesses and incised, with +disastrous results. + +#Treatment of Acute Abscesses.#--The dictum of John Bell, "Where there +is pus, let it out," summarises the treatment of abscess. The extent and +situation of the incision and the means taken to drain the cavity, +however, vary with the nature, site, and relations of the abscess. In a +superficial abscess, for example a bubo, or an abscess in the breast or +face where a disfiguring scar is undesirable, a small puncture should be +made where the pus threatens to point, and a Klapp's suction bell be +applied as already described (p. 39). A drain is not necessary, and in +the intervals between the applications of the bell the part is covered +with a moist antiseptic dressing. + +In abscesses deeply placed, as for example under the gluteal or pectoral +muscles, one or more incisions should be made, and the cavity drained by +glass or rubber tubes or by strips of rubber tissue. + +The wound should be dressed the next day, and the tube shortened, in the +case of a rubber tube, by cutting off a portion of its outer end. On the +second day or later, according to circumstances, the tube is removed, +and after this the dressing need not be repeated oftener than every +second or third day. + +Where pus has formed in relation to important structures--as, for +example, in the deeper planes of the neck--_Hilton's method_ of opening +the abscess may be employed. An incision is made through the skin and +fascia, a grooved director is gently pushed through the deeper tissues +till pus escapes along its groove, and then the track is widened by +passing in a pair of dressing forceps and expanding the blades. A tube, +or strip of rubber tissue, is introduced, and the subsequent treatment +carried out as in other abscesses. When the drain lies in proximity to a +large blood vessel, care must be taken not to leave it in position long +enough to cause ulceration of the vessel wall by pressure. + +In some abscesses, such as those in the vicinity of the anus, the cavity +should be laid freely open in its whole extent, stuffed with iodoform or +bismuth gauze, and treated by the open method. + +It is seldom advisable to wash out an abscess cavity, and squeezing out +the pus is also to be avoided, lest the protective zone be broken down +and the infection be diffused into the surrounding tissues. + +The importance of taking precautions against further infection in +opening an abscess can scarcely be exaggerated, and the rapidity with +which healing occurs when the access of fresh bacteria is prevented is +in marked contrast to what occurs when such precautions are neglected +and further infection is allowed to take place. + +_Acute Suppuration in a Wound._--If in the course of an operation +infection of the wound has occurred, a marked inflammatory reaction soon +manifests itself, and the same changes as occur in the formation of an +acute abscess take place, modified, however, by the fact that the pus +can more readily reach the surface. In from twenty-four to forty-eight +hours the patient is conscious of a sensation of chilliness, or may +even have a rigor. At the same time he feels generally out of sorts, +with impaired appetite, headache, and it may be looseness of the bowels. +His temperature rises to 100 or 101 F., and the pulse quickens to 100 +or 110. + +On exposing the wound it is found that the parts for some distance +around are red, glazed, and oedematous. The discoloration and swelling +are most intense in the immediate vicinity of the wound, the edges of +which are everted and moist. Any stitches that may have been introduced +are tight, and the deep ones may be cutting into the tissues. There is +heat, and a constant burning or throbbing pain, which is increased by +pressure. If the stitches be cut, pus escapes, the wound gapes, and its +surfaces are found to be inflamed and covered with pus. + +The open method is the only safe means of treating such wounds. The +infected surface may be sponged over with pure carbolic acid, the excess +of which is washed off with absolute alcohol, and the wound either +drained by tubes or packed with iodoform gauze. The practice of scraping +such surfaces with the sharp spoon, squeezing or even of washing them +out with antiseptic lotions, is attended with the risk of further +diffusing the organisms in the tissue, and is only to be employed under +exceptional circumstances. Continuous irrigation of infected wounds or +their immersion in antiseptic baths is sometimes useful. The free +opening up of the wound is almost immediately followed by a fall in the +temperature. The surrounding inflammation subsides, the discharge of pus +lessens, and healing takes place by the formation of granulation +tissue--the so-called "healing by second intention." + +Wound infection may take place from _catgut_ which has not been +efficiently prepared. The local and general reactions may be slight, +and, as a rule, do not appear for seven or eight days after the +operation, and, it may be, not till after the skin edges have united. +The suppuration is strictly localised to the part of the wound where +catgut was employed for stitches or ligatures, and shows little tendency +to spread. The infected part, however, is often long of healing. The +irritation in these cases is probably due to toxins in the catgut and +not to bacteria. + +When suppuration occurs in connection with buried sutures of +unabsorbable materials, such as silk, silkworm gut, or silver wire, it +is apt to persist till the foreign material is cast off or removed. + +Suppuration may occur in the track of a skin stitch, producing a _stitch +abscess_. The infection may arise from the material used, especially +catgut or silk, or, more frequently perhaps, from the growth of +staphylococcus albus from the skin of the patient when this has been +imperfectly disinfected. The formation of pus under these conditions may +not be attended with any of the usual signs of suppuration, and beyond +some induration around the wound and a slight tenderness on pressure +there may be nothing to suggest the presence of an abscess. + +_Acute Suppuration of a Mucous Membrane._--When pyogenic organisms gain +access to a mucous membrane, such as that of the bladder, urethra, or +middle ear, the usual phenomena of acute inflammation and suppuration +ensue, followed by the discharge of pus on the free surface. It would +appear that the most marked changes take place in the submucous tissue, +causing the covering epithelium in places to die and leave small +superficial ulcers, for example in gonorrhoeal urethritis, the +cicatricial contraction of the scar subsequently leading to the +formation of stricture. When mucous glands are present in the membrane, +the pus is mixed with mucus--_muco-pus_. + + +DIFFUSE CELLULITIS AND DIFFUSE SUPPURATION + +Cellulitis is an acute affection resulting from the introduction of some +organism--commonly the _streptococcus pyogenes_--into the cellular +connective tissue of the integument, intermuscular septa, tendon +sheaths, or other structures. Infection always takes place through a +breach of the surface, although this may be superficial and +insignificant, such as a pin-prick, a scratch, or a crack under a nail, +and the wound may have been healed for some time before the inflammation +becomes manifest. The cellulitis, also, may develop at some distance +from the seat of inoculation, the organisms having travelled by the +lymphatics. + +The virulence of the organisms, the loose, open nature of the tissues in +which they develop, and the free lymphatic circulation by means of which +they are spread, account for the diffuse nature of the process. +Sometimes numbers of cocci are carried for a considerable distance from +the primary area before they are arrested in the lymphatics, and thus +several patches of inflammation may appear with healthy areas between. + +The pus infiltrates the meshes of the cellular tissue, there is +sloughing of considerable portions of tissue of low vitality, such as +fat, fascia, or tendon, and if the process continues for some time +several collections of pus may form. + +_Clinical Features._--The reaction in cases of diffuse cellulitis is +severe, and is usually ushered in by a distinct chill or even a rigor, +while the temperature rises to 103, 104, or 105 F. The pulse is +proportionately increased in frequency, and is small, feeble, and often +irregular. The face is flushed, the tongue dry and brown, and the +patient may become delirious, especially during the night. Leucocytosis +is present in cases of moderate severity; but in severe cases the +virulence of the toxins prevents reaction taking place, and leucocytosis +is absent. + +The local manifestations vary with the relation of the seat of the +inflammation to the surface. When the superficial cellular tissue is +involved, the skin assumes a dark bluish-red colour, is swollen, +oedematous, and the seat of burning pain. To the touch it is firm, hot, +and tender. When the primary focus is in the deeper tissues, the +constitutional disturbance is aggravated, while the local signs are +delayed, and only become prominent when pus forms and approaches the +surface. It is not uncommon for blebs containing dark serous fluid to +form on the skin. The infection frequently spreads along the line of the +main lymph vessels of the part (_septic lymphangitis_) and may reach the +lymph glands (_septic lymphadenitis_). + +With the formation of pus the skin becomes soft and boggy at several +points, and eventually breaks, giving exit to a quantity of thick +grumous discharge. Sometimes several small collections under the skin +fuse, and an abscess is formed in which fluctuation can be detected. +Occasionally gases are evolved in the tissues, giving rise to emphysema. +It is common for portions of fascia, ligaments, or tendons to slough, +and this may often be recognised clinically by a peculiar crunching or +grating sensation transmitted to the fingers on making firm pressure on +the part. + +If it is not let out by incision, the pus, travelling along the lines of +least resistance, tends to point at several places on the surface, or to +open into joints or other cavities. + +_Prognosis._--The occurrence of _septicaemia_ is the most serious risk, +and it is in cases of diffuse suppurative cellulitis that this form of +blood-poisoning assumes its most aggravated forms. The toxins of the +streptococci are exceedingly virulent, and induce local death of tissue +so rapidly that the protective emigration of leucocytes fails to take +place. In some cases the passage of masses of free cocci in the +lymphatics, or of infective emboli in the blood vessels, leads to the +formation of _pyogenic abscesses_ in vital organs, such as the brain, +lungs, liver, kidneys, or other viscera. _Haemorrhage_ from erosion of +arterial or venous trunks may take place and endanger life. + +_Treatment._--The treatment of diffuse cellulitis depends to a large +extent on the situation and extent of the affected area, and on the +stage of the process. + +_In the limbs_, for example, where the application of a constricting +band is practicable, Bier's method of inducing passive hyperaemia yields +excellent results. If pus is formed, one or more small incisions are +made and a light moist dressing placed over the wounds to absorb the +discharge, but no drain is inserted. The whole of the inflamed area +should be covered with gauze wrung out of a 1 in 10 solution of ichthyol +in glycerine. The dressing is changed as often as necessary, and in the +intervals when the band is off, gentle active and passive movements +should be carried out to prevent the formation of adhesions. After +incisions have been made, we have found the _immersion_ of the limb, for +a few hours at a time, in a water-bath containing warm boracic lotion or +eusol a useful adjuvant to the passive hyperaemia. + +_Continuous irrigation_ of the part by a slow, steady stream of lotion, +at the body temperature, such as eusol, or Dakin's solution, or boracic +acid, or frequent washing with peroxide of hydrogen, has been found of +value. + +A suitably arranged splint adds to the comfort of the patient; and the +limb should be placed in the attitude which, in the event of stiffness +resulting, will least interfere with its usefulness. The elbow, for +example, should be flexed to a little less than a right angle; at the +wrist, the hand should be dorsiflexed and the fingers flexed slightly +towards the palm. + +Massage, passive movement, hot and cold douching, and other measures, +may be necessary to get rid of the chronic oedema, adhesions of tendons, +and stiffness of joints which sometimes remain. + +In situations where a constricting band cannot be applied, for example, +on the trunk or the neck, Klapp's suction bells may be used, small +incisions being made to admit of the escape of pus. + +If these measures fail or are impracticable, it may be necessary to make +one or more free incisions, and to insert drainage-tubes, portions of +rubber dam, or iodoform worsted. + +The general treatment of toxaemia must be carried out, and in cases due +to infection by streptococci, anti-streptococcic serum may be used. + +In a few cases, amputation well above the seat of disease, by removing +the source of toxin production, offers the only means of saving the +patient. + + +WHITLOW + +The clinical term whitlow is applied to an acute infection, usually +followed by suppuration, commonly met with in the fingers, less +frequently in the toes. The point of infection is often trivial--a +pin-prick, a puncture caused by a splinter of wood, a scratch, or even +an imperceptible lesion of the skin. + +Several varieties of whitlow are recognised, but while it is convenient +to describe them separately, it is to be clearly understood that +clinically they merge one into another, and it is not always possible to +determine in which connective-tissue plane a given infection has +originated. + +_Initial Stage._--Attention is usually first attracted to the condition +by a sensation of tightness in the finger and tenderness when the part +is squeezed or knocked against anything. In the course of a few hours +the part becomes red and swollen; there is continuous pain, which soon +assumes a throbbing character, particularly when the hand is dependent, +and may be so severe as to prevent sleep, and the patient may feel +generally out of sorts. + +If a constricting band is applied at this stage, the infection can +usually be checked and the occurrence of suppuration prevented. If this +fails, or if the condition is allowed to go untreated, the inflammatory +reaction increases and terminates in suppuration, giving rise to one or +other of the forms of whitlow to be described. + +_The Purulent Blister._--In the most superficial variety, pus forms +between the rete Malpighii and the stratum corneum of the skin, the +latter being raised as a blister in which fluctuation can be detected +(Fig. 9, a). This is commonly met with in the palm of the hand of +labouring men who have recently resumed work after a spell of idleness. +When the blister forms near the tip of the finger, the pus burrows under +the nail--which corresponds to the stratum corneum--raising it from its +bed. + +There is some local heat and discoloration, and considerable pain and +tenderness, but little or no constitutional disturbance. Superficial +lymphangitis may extend a short distance up the forearm. By clipping +away the raised epidermis, and if necessary the nail, the pus is allowed +to escape, and healing speedily takes place. + +_Whitlow at the Nail Fold._--This variety, which is met with among those +who handle septic material, occurs in the sulcus between the nail and +the skin, and is due to the introduction of infective matter at the root +of the nail (Fig. 9, b). A small focus of suppuration forms under the +nail, with swelling and redness of the nail fold, causing intense pain +and discomfort, interfering with sleep, and producing a constitutional +reaction out of all proportion to the local lesion. + +To allow the pus to escape, it is necessary, under local anaesthesia, to +cut away the nail fold as well as the portion of nail in the infected +area, or, it may be, to remove the nail entirely. If only a small +opening is made in the nail it is apt to be blocked by granulations. + +[Illustration: FIG. 9.--Diagram of various forms of Whitlow. + a = Purulent blister. + b = Suppuration at nail fold. + c = Subcutaneous whitlow. + d = Whitlow in sheath of flexor tendon (e). ] + +_Subcutaneous Whitlow._--In this variety the infection manifests itself +as a cellulitis of the pulp of the finger (Fig. 9, c), which sometimes +spreads towards the palm of the hand. The finger becomes red, swollen, +and tense; there is severe throbbing pain, which is usually worst at +night and prevents sleep, and the part is extremely tender on pressure. +When the palm is invaded there may be marked oedema of the back of the +hand, the dense integument of the palm preventing the swelling from +appearing on the front. The pus may be under such tension that +fluctuation cannot be detected. The patient is usually able to flex the +finger to a certain extent without increasing the pain--a point which +indicates that the tendon sheaths have not been invaded. The +suppurative process may, however, spread to the tendon sheaths, or even +to the bone. Sometimes the excessive tension and virulent toxins induce +actual gangrene of the distal part, or even of the whole finger. There +is considerable constitutional disturbance, the temperature often +reaching 101 or 102 F. + +The treatment consists in applying a constriction band and making an +incision over the centre of the most tender area, care being taken to +avoid opening the tendon sheath lest the infection be conveyed to it. +Moist dressings should be employed while the suppuration lasts. Carbolic +fomentations, however, are to be avoided on account of the risk of +inducing gangrene. + +_Whitlow of the Tendon Sheaths._--In this form the main incidence of the +infection is on the sheaths of the flexor tendons, but it is not always +possible to determine whether it started there or spread thither from +the subcutaneous cellular tissue (Fig. 9, d). In some cases both +connective tissue planes are involved. The affected finger becomes red, +painful, and swollen, the swelling spreading to the dorsum. The +involvement of the tendon sheath is usually indicated by the patient +being unable to flex the finger, and by the pain being increased when he +attempts to do so. On account of the anatomical arrangement of the +tendon sheaths, the process may spread into the forearm--directly in the +case of the thumb and little finger, and after invading the palm in the +case of the other fingers--and there give rise to a diffuse cellulitis +which may result in sloughing of fasciae and tendons. When the infection +spreads into the common flexor sheath under the transverse carpal +(anterior annular) ligament, it is not uncommon for the intercarpal and +wrist joints to become implicated. Impaired movement of tendons and +joints is, therefore, a common sequel to this variety of whitlow. + +The _treatment_ consists in inducing passive hyperaemia by Bier's method, +and, if this is done early, suppuration may be avoided. If pus forms, +small incisions are made, under local anaesthesia, to relieve the tension +in the sheath and to diminish the risk of the tendons sloughing. No form +of drain should be inserted. In the fingers the incisions should be made +in the middle line, and in the palm they should be made over the +metacarpal bones to avoid the digital vessels and nerves. If pus has +spread under the transverse carpal ligament, the incision must be made +above the wrist. Passive movements and massage must be commenced as +early as possible and be perseveringly employed to diminish the +formation of adhesions and resulting stiffness. + +_Subperiosteal Whitlow._--This form is usually an extension of the +subcutaneous or of the thecal variety, but in some cases the +inflammation begins in the periosteum--usually of the terminal phalanx. +It may lead to necrosis of a portion or even of the entire phalanx. This +is usually recognised by the persistence of suppuration long after the +acute symptoms have passed off, and by feeling bare bone with the probe. +In such cases one or more of the joints are usually implicated also, and +lateral mobility and grating may be elicited. Recovery does not take +place until the dead bone is removed, and the usefulness of the finger +is often seriously impaired by fibrous or bony ankylosis of the +interphalangeal joints. This may render amputation advisable when a +stiff finger is likely to interfere with the patient's occupation. + + +SUPPURATIVE CELLULITIS IN DIFFERENT SITUATIONS + +_Cellulitis of the forearm_ is usually a sequel to one of the deeper +varieties of whitlow. + +In the _region of the elbow-joint_, cellulitis is common around the +olecranon. It may originate as an inflammation of the olecranon bursa, +or may invade the bursa secondarily. In exceptional cases the +elbow-joint is also involved. + +Cellulitis of the _axilla_ may originate in suppuration in the lymph +glands, following an infected wound of the hand, or it may spread from a +septic wound on the chest wall or in the neck. In some cases it is +impossible to discover the primary seat of infection. A firm, brawny +swelling forms in the armpit and extends on to the chest wall. It is +attended with great pain, which is increased on moving the arm, and +there is marked constitutional disturbance. When suppuration occurs, its +spread is limited by the attachments of the axillary fascia, and the pus +tends to burrow on to the chest wall beneath the pectoral muscles, and +upwards towards the shoulder-joint, which may become infected. When the +pus forms in the axillary space, the treatment consists in making free +incisions, which should be placed on the thoracic side of the axilla to +avoid the axillary vessels and nerves. If the pus spreads on to the +chest wall, the abscess should be opened below the clavicle by Hilton's +method, and a counter opening may be made in the axilla. + +Cellulitis of the _sole of the foot_ may follow whitlow of the toes. + +In the _region of the ankle_ cellulitis is not common; but _around the +knee_ it frequently occurs in relation to the prepatellar bursa and to +the popliteal lymph glands, and may endanger the knee-joint. It is also +met with in the _groin_ following on inflammation and suppuration of the +inguinal glands, and cases are recorded in which the sloughing process +has implicated the femoral vessels and led to secondary haemorrhage. + +Cellulitis of the scalp, orbit, neck, pelvis, and perineum will be +considered with the diseases of these regions. + + +CHRONIC SUPPURATION + +While it is true that a chronic pyogenic abscess is sometimes met +with--for example, in the breast and in the marrow of long bones--in the +great majority of instances the formation of a chronic or cold abscess +is the result of the action of the tubercle bacillus. It is therefore +more convenient to study this form of suppuration with tuberculosis +(p. 139). + + +SINUS AND FISTULA + +#Sinus.#--A sinus is a track leading from a focus of suppuration to a +cutaneous or mucous surface. It usually represents the path by which the +discharge escapes from an abscess cavity that has been prevented from +closing completely, either from mechanical causes or from the persistent +formation of discharge which must find an exit. A sinus is lined by +granulation tissue, and when it is of long standing the opening may be +dragged below the level of the surrounding skin by contraction of the +scar tissue around it. As a sinus will persist until the obstacle to +closure of the original abscess is removed, it is necessary that this +should be sought for. It may be a foreign body, such as a piece of dead +bone, an infected ligature, or a bullet, acting mechanically or by +keeping up discharge, and if the body is removed the sinus usually +heals. The presence of a foreign body is often suggested by a mass of +redundant granulations at the mouth of the sinus. If a sinus passes +through a muscle, the repeated contractions tend to prevent healing +until the muscle is kept at rest by a splint, or put out of action by +division of its fibres. The sinuses associated with empyema are +prevented from healing by the rigidity of the chest wall, and will only +close after an operation which admits of the cavity being obliterated. +In any case it is necessary to disinfect the track, and, it may be, to +remove the unhealthy granulations lining it, by means of the sharp +spoon, or to excise it bodily. To encourage healing from the bottom the +cavity should be packed with bismuth or iodoform gauze. The healing of +long and tortuous sinuses is often hastened by the injection of Beck's +bismuth paste (p. 145). If disfigurement is likely to follow from +cicatricial contraction--for example, in a sinus over the lower jaw +associated with a carious tooth--the sinus should be excised and the raw +surfaces approximated with stitches. + +The _tuberculous sinus_ is described under Tuberculosis. + +A #fistula# is an abnormal canal passing from a mucous surface to the +skin or to another mucous surface. Fistulae resulting from suppuration +usually occur near the natural openings of mucous canals--for example, +on the cheek, as a salivary fistula; beside the inner angle of the eye, +as a lacrymal fistula; near the ear, as a mastoid fistula; or close to +the anus, as a fistula-in-ano. Intestinal fistulae are sometimes met with +in the abdominal wall after strangulated hernia, operations for +appendicitis, tuberculous peritonitis, and other conditions. In the +perineum, fistulae frequently complicate stricture of the urethra. + +Fistulae also occur between the bladder and vagina (_vesico-vaginal +fistula_), or between the bladder and the rectum (_recto-vesical +fistula_). + +The _treatment_ of these various forms of fistula will be described in +the sections dealing with the regions in which they occur. + +_Congenital fistulae_, such as occur in the neck from imperfect closure +of branchial clefts, or in the abdomen from unobliterated foetal ducts +such as the urachus or Meckel's diverticulum, will be described in their +proper places. + + +CONSTITUTIONAL MANIFESTATIONS OF PYOGENIC INFECTION + +We have here to consider under the terms Sapraemia, Septicaemia, and +Pyaemia certain general effects of pyogenic infection, which, although +their clinical manifestations may vary, are all associated with the +action of the same forms of bacteria. They may occur separately or in +combination, or one may follow on and merge into another. + +#Sapraemia#, or septic intoxication, is the name applied to a form of +poisoning resulting from the absorption into the blood of the toxic +products of pyogenic bacteria. These products, which are of the nature +of alkaloids, act immediately on their entrance into the circulation, +and produce effects in direct proportion to the amount absorbed. As the +toxins are gradually eliminated from the body the symptoms abate, and if +no more are introduced they disappear. Sapraemia in these respects, +therefore, is comparable to poisoning by any other form of alkaloid, +such as strychnin or morphin. + +_Clinical Features._--The symptoms of sapraemia seldom manifest +themselves within twenty-four hours of an operation or injury, because +it takes some time for the bacteria to produce a sufficient dose of +their poisons. The onset of the condition is marked by a feeling of +chilliness, sometimes amounting to a rigor, and a rise of temperature to +102, 103, or 104 F., with morning remissions (Fig. 10). The heart's +action is markedly depressed, and the pulse is soft and compressible. +The appetite is lost, the tongue dry and covered with a thin +brownish-red fur, so that it has the appearance of "dried beef." The +urine is scanty and loaded with urates. In severe cases diarrhoea and +vomiting of dark coffee-ground material are often prominent features. +Death is usually impending when the skin becomes cold and clammy, the +mucous membranes livid, the pulse feeble and fluttering, the discharges +involuntary, and when a low form of muttering delirium is present. + +[Illustration: FIG. 10.--Charts of Acute sapraemia from (a) case of +crushed foot, and (b) case of incomplete abortion.] + +A local form of septic infection is always present--it may be an +abscess, an infected compound fracture, or an infection of the cavity of +the uterus, for example, from a retained portion of placenta. + +_Treatment._--The first indication is the immediate and complete removal +of the infected material. The wound must be freely opened, all +blood-clot, discharge, or necrosed tissue removed, and the area +disinfected by washing with sterilised salt solution, peroxide of +hydrogen, or eusol. Stronger lotions are to be avoided as being likely +to depress the tissues, and so interfere with protective phagocytosis. +On account of its power of neutralising toxins, iodoform is useful in +these cases, and is best employed by packing the wound with iodoform +gauze, and treating it by the open method, if this is possible. + +The general treatment is carried out on the same lines as for other +infective conditions. + +#Chronic sapraemia or Hectic Fever.#--Hectic fever differs from acute +sapraemia merely in degree. It usually occurs in connection with +tuberculous conditions, such as bone or joint disease, psoas abscess, or +empyema, which have opened externally, and have thereby become infected +with pyogenic organisms. It is gradual in its development, and is of a +mild type throughout. + +[Illustration: FIG. 11.--Chart of Hectic Fever.] + +The pulse is small, feeble, and compressible, and the temperature rises +in the afternoon or evening to 102 or 103 F. (Fig. 11), the cheeks +becoming characteristically flushed. In the early morning the +temperature falls to normal or below it, and the patient breaks into a +profuse perspiration, which leaves him pale, weak, and exhausted. He +becomes rapidly and markedly emaciated, even although in some cases the +appetite remains good and is even voracious. + +The poisons circulating in the blood produce _waxy degeneration_ in +certain viscera, notably the liver, spleen, kidneys, and intestines. The +process begins in the arterial walls, and spreads thence to the +connective-tissue structures, causing marked enlargement of the affected +organs. Albuminuria, ascites, oedema of the lower limbs, clubbing of the +fingers, and diarrhoea are among the most prominent symptoms of this +condition. + +The _prognosis_ in hectic fever depends on the completeness with which +the further absorption of toxins can be prevented. In many cases this +can only be effected by an operation which provides for free drainage, +and, if possible, the removal of infected tissues. The resulting wound +is best treated by the open method. Even advanced waxy degeneration does +not contra-indicate this line of treatment, as the diseased organs +usually recover if the focus from which absorption of toxic material is +taking place is completely eradicated. + +[Illustration: FIG. 12.--Chart of case of Septicaemia followed by +Pyaemia.] + +#Septicaemia.#--This form of blood-poisoning is the result of the action +of pyogenic bacteria, which not only produce their toxins at the primary +seat of infection, but themselves enter the blood-stream and are carried +to other parts, where they settle and produce further effects. + +_Clinical Features._--There may be an incubation period of some hours +between the infection and the first manifestation of acute septicaemia. +In such conditions as acute osteomyelitis or acute peritonitis, we see +the most typical clinical pictures of this condition. The onset is +marked by a chill, or a rigor, which may be repeated, while the +temperature rises to 103 or 104 F., although in very severe cases the +temperature may remain subnormal throughout, the virulence of the toxins +preventing reaction. It is in the general appearance of the patient and +in the condition of the pulse that we have our best guides as to the +severity of the condition. If the pulse remains firm, full, and regular, +and does not exceed 110 or even 120, while the temperature is moderately +raised, the outlook is hopeful; but when the pulse becomes small and +compressible, and reaches 130 or more, especially if at the same time +the temperature is low, a grave prognosis is indicated. The tongue is +often dry and coated with a black crust down the centre, while the sides +are red. It is a good omen when the tongue becomes moist again. Thirst +is most distressing, especially in septicaemia of intestinal origin. +Persistent vomiting of dark-brown material is often present, and +diarrhoea with blood-stained stools is not uncommon. The urine is small +in amount, and contains a large proportion of urates. As the poisons +accumulate, the respiration becomes shallow and laboured, the face of a +dull ashy grey, the nose pinched, and the skin cold and clammy. +Capillary haemorrhages sometimes take place in the skin or mucous +membranes; and in a certain proportion of cases cutaneous eruptions +simulating those of scarlet fever or measles appear, and are apt to lead +to errors in diagnosis. In other cases there is slight jaundice. The +mental state is often one of complete apathy, the patient failing to +realise the gravity of his condition; sometimes there is delirium. + +The _prognosis_ is always grave, and depends on the possibility of +completely eradicating the focus of infection, and on the reserve force +the patient has to carry him over the period during which he is +eliminating the poison already circulating in his blood. + +The _treatment_ is carried out on the same lines as in sapraemia, but it +is less likely to be successful owing to the organisms having entered +the circulation. When possible, the primary focus of infection should be +dealt with. + +#Pyaemia# is a form of blood-poisoning characterised by the development +of secondary foci of suppuration in different parts of the body. Toxins +are thus introduced into the blood, not only at the primary seat of +infection, but also from each of these metastatic collections. Like +septicaemia, this condition is due to pyogenic bacteria, the +_streptococcus pyogenes_ being the commonest organism found. The primary +infection is usually in a wound--for example, a compound fracture--but +cases occur in which the point of entrance of the bacteria is not +discoverable. The dissemination of the organisms takes place through the +medium of infected emboli which form in a thrombosed vein in the +vicinity of the original lesion, and, breaking loose, are carried +thence in the blood-stream. These emboli lodge in the minute vessels of +the lungs, spleen, liver, kidneys, pleura, brain, synovial membranes, or +cellular tissue, and the bacteria they contain give rise to secondary +foci of suppuration. Secondary abscesses are thus formed in those parts, +and these in turn may be the starting-point of new emboli which give +rise to fresh areas of pus formation. The organs above named are the +commonest situations of pyaemic abscesses, but these may also occur in +the bone marrow, the substance of muscles, the heart and pericardium, +lymph glands, subcutaneous tissue, or, in fact, in any tissue of the +body. Organisms circulating in the blood are prone to lodge on the +valves of the heart and give rise to endocarditis. + +[Illustration: FIG. 13.--Chart of Pyaemia following on Acute +Osteomyelitis.] + +_Clinical Features._--Before antiseptic surgery was practised, pyaemia +was a common complication of wounds. In the present day it is not only +infinitely less common, but appears also to be of a less severe type. +Its rarity and its mildness may be related as cause and effect, because +it was formerly found that pyaemia contracted from a pyaemic patient was +more virulent than that from other sources. + +In contrast with sapraemia and septicaemia, pyaemia is late of developing, +and it seldom begins within a week of the primary infection. The first +sign is a feeling of chilliness, or a violent rigor lasting for perhaps +half an hour, during which time the temperature rises to 103, 104, or +105 F. In the course of an hour it begins to fall again, and the +patient breaks into a profuse sweat. The temperature may fall several +degrees, but seldom reaches the normal. In a few days there is a second +rigor with rise of temperature, and another remission, and such attacks +may be repeated at diminishing intervals during the course of the +illness (Figs. 12 and 13). The pulse is soft, and tends to remain +abnormally rapid even when the temperature falls nearly to normal. + +The face is flushed, and wears a drawn, anxious expression, and the eyes +are bright. A characteristic sweetish odour, which has been compared to +that of new-mown hay, can be detected in the breath and may pervade the +patient. The appetite is lost; there may be sickness and vomiting and +profuse diarrhoea; and the patient emaciates rapidly. The skin is +continuously hot, and has often a peculiar pungent feel. Patches of +erythema sometimes appear scattered over the body. The skin may assume a +dull sallow or earthy hue, or a bright yellow icteric tint may appear. +The conjunctivae also may be yellow. In the latter stages of the disease +the pulse becomes small and fluttering; the tongue becomes dry and +brown; sordes collect on the teeth; and a low muttering form of delirium +supervenes. + +Secondary infection of the parotid gland frequently occurs, and gives +rise to a suppurative parotitis. This condition is associated with +severe pain, gradually extending from behind the angle of the jaw on to +the face. There is also swelling over the gland, and eventually +suppuration and sloughing of the gland tissue and overlying skin. + +Secondary abscesses in the lymph glands, subcutaneous tissue, or joints +are often so insidious and painless in their development that they are +only discovered accidentally. When the abscess is evacuated, healing +often takes place with remarkable rapidity, and with little impairment +of function. + +The general symptoms may be simulated by an attack of malaria. + +_Prognosis._--The prognosis in acute pyaemia is much less hopeless than +it once was, a considerable proportion of the patients recovering. In +acute cases the disease proves fatal in ten days or a fortnight, death +being due to toxaemia. Chronic cases often run a long course, lasting for +weeks or even months, and prove fatal from exhaustion and waxy disease +following on prolonged suppuration. + +_Treatment._--In such conditions as compound fractures and severe +lacerated wounds, much can be done to avert the conditions which lead to +pyaemia, by applying a Bier's constricting bandage as soon as there is +evidence of infection having taken place, or even if there is reason to +suspect that the wound is not aseptic. + +If sepsis is already established, and evidence of general infection is +present, the wound should be opened up sufficiently to admit of thorough +disinfection and drainage, and the constricting bandage applied to aid +the defensive processes going on in the tissues. If these measures fail, +amputation of the limb may be the only means of preventing further +dissemination of infective material from the primary source of +infection. + +Attempts have been made to interrupt the channel along which the +infective emboli spread, by ligating or resecting the main vein of the +affected part, but this is seldom feasible except in the case of the +internal jugular vein for infection of the transverse sinus. + +Secondary abscesses must be aspirated or opened and drained whenever +possible. + +The general treatment is conducted on the same lines as on other forms +of pyogenic infection. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ULCERATION AND ULCERS + + +Definitions--Clinical examination of an ulcer--The healing + sore.--Classification of ulcers--A. According to cause: + _Traumatism_, _Imperfect circulation_, _Imperfect nerve-supply_, + _Constitutional causes_--B. According to condition: _Healing_, + _Stationary_, _Spreading_.--Treatment. + +The process of _ulceration_ may be defined as the molecular or cellular +death of tissue taking place on a free surface. It is essentially of the +same nature as the process of suppuration, only that the purulent +discharge, instead of collecting in a closed cavity and forming an +abscess, at once escapes on the surface. + +An _ulcer_ is an open wound or sore in which there are present certain +conditions tending to prevent it undergoing the natural process of +repair. Of these, one of the most important is the presence of +pathogenic bacteria, which by their action not only prevent healing, but +so irritate and destroy the tissues as to lead to an actual increase in +the size of the sore. Interference with the nutrition of a part by oedema +or chronic venous congestion may impede healing; as may also induration +of the surrounding area, by preventing the contraction which is such an +important factor in repair. Defective innervation, such as occurs in +injuries and diseases of the spinal cord, also plays an important part +in delaying repair. In certain constitutional conditions, too--for +example, Bright's disease, diabetes, or syphilis--the vitiated state of +the tissues is an impediment to repair. Mechanical causes, such as +unsuitable dressings or ill-fitting appliances, may also act in the same +direction. + +#Clinical Examination of an Ulcer.#--In examining any ulcer, we +observe--(1) Its _base_ or _floor_, noting the presence or absence of +granulations, their disposition, size, colour, vascularity, and whether +they are depressed or elevated in relation to the surrounding parts. (2) +The _discharge_ as to quantity, consistence, colour, composition, and +odour. (3) The _edges_, noting particularly whether or not the marginal +epithelium is attempting to grow over the surface; also their shape, +regularity, thickness, and whether undermined or overlapping, everted or +depressed. (4) The _surrounding tissues_, as to whether they are +congested, oedematous, inflamed, indurated, or otherwise. (5) Whether or +not there is _pain_ or tenderness in the raw surface or its +surroundings. (6) The _part of the body_ on which it occurs, because +certain ulcers have special seats of election--for example, the varicose +ulcer in the lower third of the leg, the perforating ulcer on the sole +of the foot, and so on. + +#The Healing Sore.#--If a portion of skin be excised aseptically, and no +attempt made to close the wound, the raw surface left is soon covered +over with a layer of coagulated blood and lymph. In the course of a few +days this is replaced by the growth of _granulations_, which are of +uniform size, of a pinkish-red colour, and moist with a slight serous +exudate containing a few dead leucocytes. They grow until they reach the +level of the surrounding skin, and so fill the gap with a fine velvety +mass of granulation tissue. At the edges, the young epithelium may be +seen spreading in over the granulations as a fine bluish-white pellicle, +which gradually covers the sore, becoming paler in colour as it +thickens, and eventually forming the smooth, non-vascular covering of +the cicatrix. There is no pain, and the surrounding parts are healthy. + +This may be used as a type with which to compare the ulcers seen at the +bedside, so that we may determine how far, and in what particulars, +these differ from the type; and that we may in addition recognise the +conditions that have to be counteracted before the characters of the +typical healing sore are assumed. + +For purposes of contrast we may indicate the characters of an open sore +in which bacterial infection with pathogenic bacteria has taken place. +The layer of coagulated blood and lymph becomes liquefied and is thrown +off, and instead of granulations being formed, the tissues exposed on +the floor of the ulcer are destroyed by the bacterial toxins, with the +formation of minute sloughs and a quantity of pus. + +The discharge is profuse, thin, acrid, and offensive, and consists of +pus, broken-down blood-clot, and sloughs. The edges are inflamed, +irregular, and ragged, showing no sign of growing epithelium--on the +contrary, the sore may be actually increasing in area by the +breaking-down of the tissues at its margins. The surrounding parts are +hot, red, swollen, and oedematous; and there is pain and tenderness both +in the sore itself and in the parts around. + +#Classification of Ulcers.#--The nomenclature of ulcers is much involved +and gives rise to great confusion, chiefly for the reason that no one +basis of classification has been adopted. Thus some ulcers are named +according to the causes at work in producing or maintaining them--for +example, the traumatic, the septic, and the varicose ulcer; some from +the constitutional element present, as the gouty and the diabetic ulcer; +and others according to the condition in which they happen to be when +seen by the surgeon, such as the weak, the inflamed, and the callous +ulcer. + +So long as we retain these names it will be impossible to find a single +basis for classification; and yet many of the terms are so descriptive +and so generally understood that it is undesirable to abolish them. We +must therefore remain content with a clinical arrangement of ulcers,--it +cannot be called a classification,--considering any given ulcer from two +points of view: first its _cause_, and second its _present condition_. +This method of studying ulcers has the practical advantage that it +furnishes us with the main indications for treatment as well as for +diagnosis: the cause must be removed, and the condition so modified as +to convert the ulcer into an aseptic healing sore. + +A. #Arrangement of Ulcers according to their Cause.#--Although any given +ulcer may be due to a combination of causes, it is convenient to +describe the following groups: + +_Ulcers due to Traumatism._--Traumatism in the form of a _crush_ or +_bruise_ is a frequent cause of ulcer formation, acting either by +directly destroying the skin, or by so diminishing its vitality that it +is rendered a suitable soil for bacteria. If these gain access, in the +course of a few days the damaged area of skin becomes of a greyish +colour, blebs form on it, and it undergoes necrosis, leaving an +unhealthy raw surface when the slough separates. + +_Heat_ and _prolonged exposure to the Rontgen rays_ or _to radium +emanations_ act in a similar way. + +The _pressure_ of improperly padded splints or other appliances may so +far interfere with the circulation of the part pressed upon, that the +skin sloughs, leaving an open sore. This is most liable to occur in +patients who suffer from some nerve lesion--such as anterior +poliomyelitis, or injury of the spinal cord or nerve-trunks. +Splint-pressure sores are usually situated over bony prominences, such +as the malleoli, the condyles of the femur or humerus, the head of the +fibula, the dorsum of the foot, or the base of the fifth metatarsal +bone. On removing the splint, the skin of the part pressed upon is found +to be of a red or pink colour, with a pale grey patch in the centre, +which eventually sloughs and leaves an ulcer. Certain forms of +_bed-sore_ are also due to prolonged pressure. + +Pressure sores are also known to have been produced artificially by +malingerers and hysterical subjects. + +[Illustration: FIG. 14.--Leg Ulcers associated with Varicose Veins and +Pigmentation of the Skin.] + +_Ulcers due to Imperfect Circulation._--Imperfect circulation is an +important causative factor in ulceration, especially when it is the +_venous return_ that is defective. This is best illustrated in the +so-called _leg ulcer_, which occurs most frequently on the front and +medial aspect of the lower third of the leg. At this point the +anastomosis between the superficial and deep veins of the leg is less +free than elsewhere, so that the extra stress thrown upon the surface +veins interferes with the nutrition of the skin (Hilton). The importance +of imperfect venous return in the causation of such ulcers is evidenced +by the fact that as soon as the condition of the circulation is improved +by confining the patient to bed and elevating the limb, the ulcer begins +to heal, even although all methods of local treatment have hitherto +proved ineffectual. In a considerable number of cases, but by no means +in all, this form of ulcer is associated with the presence of varicose +veins, and in such cases it is spoken of as the _varicose ulcer_ (Fig. 14). +The presence of varicose veins is frequently associated with a +diffuse brownish or bluish pigmentation of the skin of the lower third +of the leg, or with an obstinate form of dermatitis (_varicose eczema_), +and the scratching or rubbing of the part is liable to cause a breach of +the surface and permit of infection which leads to ulceration. Varicose +ulcers may also originate from the bursting of a small peri-phlebitic +abscess. + +Varicose veins in immediate relation to the base of a large chronic +ulcer usually become thrombosed, and in time are reduced to fibrous +cords, and therefore in such cases haemorrhage is not a common +complication. In smaller and more superficial ulcers, however, the +destructive process is liable to implicate the wall of the vessel before +the occurrence of thrombosis, and to lead to profuse and it may be +dangerous bleeding. + +These ulcers are at first small and superficial, but from want of care, +from continued standing or walking, or from injudicious treatment, they +gradually become larger and deeper. They are not infrequently multiple, +and this, together with their depth, may lead to their being mistaken +for ulcers due to syphilis. The base of the ulcer is covered with +imperfectly formed, soft, oedematous granulations, which give off a thin +sero-purulent discharge. The edges are slightly inflamed, and show no +evidence of healing. The parts around are usually pigmented and slightly +oedematous, and as a rule there is little pain. This variety of ulcer is +particularly prone to pass into the condition known as callous. + +In _anaemic_ patients, especially young girls, ulcers are occasionally +met with which have many of the clinical characters of those associated +with imperfect venous return. They are slow to heal, and tend to pass +into the condition known as weak. + +_Ulcers due to Interference with Nerve-Supply._--Any interference with +the nerve-supply of the superficial tissues predisposes to ulceration. +For example, _trophic_ ulcers are liable to occur in injuries or +diseases of the spinal cord, in cerebral paralysis, in limbs weakened by +poliomyelitis, in ascending or peripheral neuritis, or after injuries of +nerve-trunks. + +The _acute bed-sore_ is a rapidly progressing form of ulceration, often +amounting to gangrene, of portions of skin exposed to pressure when +their trophic nerve-supply has been interfered with. + +[Illustration: FIG. 15.--Perforating Ulcers of Sole of Foot. + +(From Photograph lent by Sir Montagu Cotterill.)] + +The _perforating ulcer of the foot_ is a peculiar type of sore which +occurs in association with the different forms of peripheral neuritis, +and with various lesions of the brain and spinal cord, such as general +paralysis, locomotor ataxia, or syringo-myelia (Fig. 15). It also occurs +in patients suffering from glycosuria, and is usually associated with +arterio-sclerosis--local or general. Perforating ulcer is met with most +frequently under the head of the metatarsal bone of the great toe. A +callosity forms and suppuration occurs under it, the pus escaping +through a small hole in the centre. The process slowly and gradually +spreads deeper and deeper, till eventually the bone or joint is reached, +and becomes implicated in the destructive process--hence the term +"perforating ulcer." The flexor tendons are sometimes destroyed, the toe +being dorsiflexed by the unopposed extensors. The depth of the track +being so disproportionate to its superficial area, the condition closely +simulates a tuberculous sinus, for which it is liable to be mistaken. +The raw surface is absolutely insensitive, so that the probe can be +freely employed without the patient even being aware of it or suffering +the least discomfort--a significant fact in diagnosis. The cavity is +filled with effete and decomposing epidermis, which has a most offensive +odour. The chronic and intractable character of the ulcer is due to +interference with the trophic nerve-supply of the parts, and to the fact +that the epithelium of the skin grows in and lines the track leading +down to the deepest part of the ulcer and so prevents closure. While +they are commonest on the sole of the foot and other parts subjected to +pressure, perforating ulcers are met with on the sides and dorsum of the +foot and toes, on the hands, and on other parts where no pressure has +been exerted. + +The _tuberculous ulcer_, so often seen in the neck, in the vicinity of +joints, or over the ribs and sternum, usually results from the bursting +through the skin of a tuberculous abscess. The base is soft, pale, and +covered with feeble granulations and grey shreddy sloughs. The edges are +of a dull blue or purple colour, and gradually thin out towards their +free margins, and in addition are characteristically undermined, so that +a probe can be passed for some distance between the floor of the ulcer +and the thinned-out edges. Thin, devitalised tags of skin often stretch +from side to side of the ulcer. The outline is irregular; small +perforations often occur through the skin, and a thin, watery discharge, +containing grey shreds of tuberculous debris, escapes. + +_Bazin's Disease._--This term is applied to an affection of the skin and +subcutaneous tissue which bears certain resemblances to tuberculosis. It +is met with almost exclusively between the knee and the ankle, and it +usually affects both legs. It is commonest in girls of delicate +constitution, in whose family history there is evidence of a tuberculous +taint. The patient often presents other lesions of a tuberculous +character, notably enlarged cervical glands, and phlyctenular +ophthalmia. The tubercle bacillus has rarely been found, but we have +always observed characteristic epithelioid cells and giant cells in +sections made from the edge or floor of the ulcer. + +[Illustration: FIG. 16.--Bazin's Disease in a girl aet. 16.] + +The condition begins by the formation in the skin and subcutaneous +tissue of dusky or livid nodules of induration, which soften and +ulcerate, forming small open sores with ragged and undermined edges, not +unlike those resulting from the breaking down of superficial syphilitic +gummata (Fig. 16). Fresh crops of nodules appear in the neighbourhood of +the ulcers, and in turn break down. While in the nodular stage the +affection is sometimes painful, but with the formation of the ulcer the +pain subsides. + +The disease runs a chronic course, and may slowly extend over a wide +area in spite of the usual methods of treatment. After lasting for some +months, or even years, however, it may eventually undergo spontaneous +cure. The most satisfactory treatment is to excise the affected tissues +and fill the gap with skin-grafts. + +[Illustration: FIG. 17.--Syphilitic Ulcers in region of Knee, showing +punched-out appearance and raised indurated edges.] + +The _syphilitic ulcer_ is usually formed by the breaking down of a +cutaneous or subcutaneous gumma in the tertiary stage of syphilis. When +the gummatous tissue is first exposed by the destruction of the skin or +mucous membrane covering it, it appears as a tough greyish slough, +compared to "wash leather," which slowly separates and leaves a more or +less circular, deep, punched-out gap which shows a few feeble unhealthy +granulations and small sloughs on its floor. The edges are raised and +indurated; and the discharge is thick, glairy, and peculiarly offensive. +The parts around the ulcer are congested and of a dark brown colour. +There are usually several such ulcers together, and as they tend to heal +at one part while they spread at another, the affected area assumes a +sinuous or serpiginous outline. Syphilitic ulcers may be met with in any +part of the body, but are most frequent in the upper part of the leg +(Fig. 17), especially around the knee-joint in women, and over the ribs +and sternum. On healing, they usually leave a depressed and adherent +cicatrix. + +The _scorbutic ulcer_ occurs in patients suffering from scurvy, and is +characterised by its prominent granulations, which show a marked +tendency to bleed, with the formation of clots, which dry and form a +spongy crust on the surface. + +In _gouty_ patients small ulcers which are exceedingly irritable and +painful are liable to occur. + +_Ulcers associated with Malignant Disease._--Cancer and sarcoma when +situated in the subcutaneous tissue may destroy the overlying skin so +that the substance of the tumour is exposed. The fungating masses thus +produced are sometimes spoken of as malignant ulcers, but as they are +essentially different in their nature from all other forms of ulcers, +and call for totally different treatment, it is best to consider them +along with the tumours with which they are associated. Rodent ulcer, +which is one form of cancer of the skin, will be discussed with new +growths of the skin. + +B. #Arrangement of Ulcers according to their Condition.#--Having arrived +at an opinion as to the cause of a given ulcer, and placed it in one or +other of the preceding groups, the next question to ask is, In what +condition do I find this ulcer at the present moment? + +Any ulcer is in one of three states--healing, stationary, or spreading; +although it is not uncommon to find healing going on at one part while +the destructive process is extending at another. + +_The Healing Condition._--The process of healing in an ulcer has already +been studied, and we have learned that it takes place by the formation +of granulation tissue, which becomes converted into connective tissue, +and is covered over by epithelium growing in from the edges. + +Those ulcers which are _stationary_--that is, neither healing nor +spreading--may be in one of several conditions. + +_The Weak Condition._--Any ulcer may get into a weak state from +receiving a blood supply which is defective either in quantity or in +quality. The granulations are small and smooth, and of a pale yellow or +grey colour, the discharge is small in amount, and consists of thin +serum and a few pus cells, and as this dries on the edges it forms scabs +which interfere with the growth of epithelium. + +Should the part become oedematous, either from general causes, such as +heart or kidney disease, or from local causes, such as varicose veins, +the granulations share in the oedema, and there is an abundant serous +discharge. + +The excessive use of moist dressings leads to a third variety of weak +ulcer--namely, one in which the granulations become large, soft, pale, +and flabby, projecting beyond the level of the skin and overlapping the +edges, which become pale and sodden. The term "proud flesh" is popularly +applied to such redundant granulations. + +[Illustration: FIG. 18.--Callous Ulcer, showing thickened edges and +indurated swelling of surrounding parts.] + +_The Callous Condition._--This condition is usually met with in ulcers +on the lower third of the leg, and is often associated with the presence +of varicose veins. It is chiefly met with in hospital practice. The want +of healing is mainly due to impeded venous return and to oedema and +induration of the surrounding skin and cellular tissues (Fig. 18). The +induration results from coagulation and partial organisation of the +inflammatory effusion, and prevents the necessary contraction of the +sore. The base of a callous ulcer lies at some distance below the level +of the swollen, thickened, and white edges, and presents a glazed +appearance, such granulations as are present being unhealthy and +irregular. The discharge is usually watery, and cakes in the dressing. +When from neglect and want of cleanliness the ulcer becomes inflamed, +there is considerable pain, and the discharge is purulent and often +offensive. + +The prolonged hyperaemia of the tissues in relation to a callous ulcer of +the leg often leads to changes in the underlying bones. The periosteum +is abnormally thick and vascular, the superficial layers of the bone +become injected and porous, and the bones, as a whole, are thickened. In +the macerated bone "the surface is covered with irregular, +stalactite-like processes or foliaceous masses, which, to a certain +extent, follow the line of attachment of the interosseous membrane and +of the intermuscular septa" (Cathcart) (Fig. 19). When the whole +thickness of the soft tissues is destroyed by the ulcerative process, +the area of bone that comes to form the base of the ulcer projects as a +flat, porous node, which in its turn may be eroded. These changes as +seen in the macerated specimen are often mistaken for disease +originating in the bone. + +[Illustration: FIG. 19.--Tibia and Fibula, showing changes due to +chronic ulcer of leg.] + +The _irritable condition_ is met with in ulcers which occur, as a rule, +just above the external malleolus in women of neurotic temperament. They +are small in size and have prominent granulations, and by the aid of a +probe points of excessive tenderness may be discovered. These, Hilton +believed, correspond to exposed nerve filaments. + +_Ulcers which are spreading_ may be met with in one of several +conditions. + +_The Inflamed Condition._--Any ulcer may become acutely inflamed from +the access of fresh organisms, aided by mechanical irritation from +trauma, ill-fitting splints or bandages, or want of rest, or from +chemical irritants, such as strong antiseptics. The best clinical +example of an inflamed ulcer is the venereal soft sore. The base of the +ulcer becomes red and angry-looking, the granulations disappear, and a +copious discharge of thin yellow pus, mixed with blood, escapes. Sloughs +of granulation tissue or of connective tissue may form. The edges become +red, ragged, and everted, and the ulcer increases in size by spreading +into the inflamed and oedematous surrounding tissues. Such ulcers are +frequently multiple. Pain is a constant symptom, and is often severe, +and there is usually some constitutional disturbance. + +The _phagedaenic condition_ is the result of an ulcer being infected with +specially virulent bacteria. It occurs in syphilitic ulcers, and rapidly +leads to a widespread destruction of tissue. It is also met with in the +throat in some cases of scarlet fever, and may give rise to fatal +haemorrhage by ulcerating into large blood vessels. All the local and +constitutional signs of a severe septic infection are present. + +#Treatment of Ulcers.#--An ulcer is not only an immediate cause of +suffering to the patient, crippling and incapacitating him for his work, +but is a distinct and constant menace to his health: the prolonged +discharge reduces his strength; the open sore is a possible source of +infection by the organisms of suppuration, erysipelas, or other specific +diseases; phlebitis, with formation of septic emboli, leading to pyaemia, +is liable to occur; and in old persons it is not uncommon for ulcers of +long standing to become the seat of cancer. In addition, the offensive +odour of many ulcers renders the patient a source of annoyance and +discomfort to others. The primary object of treatment in any ulcer is to +bring it into the condition of a healing sore. When this has been +effected, nature will do the rest, provided extraneous sources of +irritation are excluded. + +Steps must be taken to facilitate the venous return from the ulcerated +part, and to ensure that a sufficient supply of fresh, healthy blood +reaches it. The septic element must be eliminated by disinfecting the +ulcer and its surroundings, and any other sources of irritation must be +removed. + +If the patient's health is below par, good nourishing food, tonics, and +general hygienic treatment are indicated. + +_Management of a Healing Sore._--Perhaps the best dressing for a healing +sore is a layer of Lister's perforated oiled-silk protective, which is +made to cover the raw surface and the skin for about a quarter of an +inch beyond the margins of the sore. Over this three or four thicknesses +of sterilised gauze, wrung out of eusol, creolin, or sterilised water, +are applied, and covered by a pad of absorbent wool. As far as possible +the part should be kept at rest, and the position should be adjusted so +as to favour the circulation in the affected area. + +The dressing may be renewed at intervals, and care must be taken to +avoid any rough handling of the sore. Any discharge that lies on the +surface should be removed by a gentle stream of lotion rather than by +wiping. The area round the sore should be cleansed before the fresh +dressing is applied. + +In some cases, healing goes on more rapidly under a dressing of weak +boracic ointment (one-quarter the strength of the pharmacopoeial +preparation). The growth of epithelium may be stimulated by a 6 to 8 per +cent. ointment of scarlet-red. + +Dusting powders and poultice dressings are best avoided in the treatment +of healing sores. + +In extensive ulcers resulting from recent burns, if the granulations are +healthy and aseptic, skin-grafts may safely be placed on them directly. +If, however, their asepticity cannot be relied upon, it is necessary to +scrape away the superficial layer of the granulations, the young fibrous +tissue underneath being conserved, as it is sufficiently vascular to +nourish the grafts placed on it. + +#Treatment of Special Varieties of Ulcers.#--Before beginning to treat a +given ulcer, two questions have to be answered--first, What are the +causative conditions present? and second, In what condition do I find +the ulcer?--in other words, In what particulars does it differ from a +healthy healing sore? + +If the cause is a local one, it must be removed; if a constitutional +one, means must be taken to counteract it. This done, the condition of +the ulcer must be so modified as to bring it into the state of a healing +sore, after which it will be managed on the lines already laid down. + +#Treatment in relation to the Cause of the Ulcer.#--_Traumatic +Group._--The _prophylaxis_ of these ulcers consists in excluding +bacteria, by cleansing crushed or bruised parts, and applying sterilised +dressings and properly adjusted splints. If there is reason to fear that +the disinfection has not been complete, a Bier's constricting bandage +should be applied for some hours each day. These measures will often +prevent a grossly injured portion of skin dying, and will ensure +asepticity should it do so. In the event of the skin giving way, the +same form of dressing should be continued till the slough has separated +and a healthy granulating surface is formed. The protective dressing +appropriate to a healing sore is then substituted. _Pressure sores_ are +treated on the same lines. + +The treatment of ulcers caused by _burns and scalds_ will be described +later. + +In _ulcers of the leg due to interference with the venous return_, the +primary indication is to elevate the limb in order to facilitate the +flow of the blood in the veins, and so admit of fresh blood reaching the +part. The limb may be placed on pillows, or the foot of the bed raised +on blocks, so that the ulcer lies on a higher level than the heart. +Should varicose veins be present, the question of operative treatment +must be considered. + +When an _imperfect nerve supply_ is the main factor underlying ulcer +formation, prophylaxis is the chief consideration. In patients suffering +from spinal injuries or diseases, cerebral paralysis, or affections of +the peripheral nerves, all sources of irritation, such as ill-fitting +splints, tight bandages, moist applications, and hot bottles, should be +avoided. Any part liable to pressure, from the position of the patient +or otherwise, must be carefully protected by pads of wool, air-cushions, +or water-bags, and must be kept absolutely dry. The skin should be +hardened by daily applications of methylated spirit. + +Should an ulcer form in spite of these precautions, the mildest +antiseptics must be employed for bathing and dressing it, and as far as +possible all dressings should be dry. + +The _perforating ulcer_ of the foot calls for special treatment. To +avoid pressure on the sole of the foot, the patient must be confined to +bed. As the main local obstacle to healing is the down-growth of +epithelium along the sides of the ulcer, this must be removed by the +knife or sharp spoon. The base also should be excised, and any bone +which may have become involved should be gouged away, so as to leave a +healthy and vascular surface. The cavity thus formed is stuffed with +bismuth or iodoform gauze and encouraged to heal from the bottom. As the +parts are insensitive an anaesthetic is not required. After the ulcer has +healed, the patient should wear in his boot a thick felt sole with a +hole cut out opposite the situation of the cicatrix. When a joint has +been opened into, the difficulty of thoroughly getting rid of all +unhealthy and infected granulations is so great that amputation may be +advisable, but it is to be remembered that ulceration may recur in the +stump if pressure is put upon it. The treatment of any nervous disease +or glycosuria which may coexist is, of course, indicated. + +Exposure of the plantar nerves by an incision behind the medial +malleolus, and subjecting them to forcible stretching, has been employed +by Chipault and others in the treatment of perforating ulcers of the +foot. + +The ulcer that forms in relation to callosities on the sole of the foot +is treated by paring away all the thickened skin, after softening it +with soda fomentations, removing the unhealthy granulations, and +applying stimulating dressings. + +_Treatment of Ulcers due to Constitutional Causes._--When ulcers are +associated with such diseases as tuberculosis, syphilis, diabetes, +Bright's disease, scurvy, or gout, these must receive appropriate +treatment. + +The local treatment of the _tuberculous ulcer_ calls for special +mention. If the ulcer is of limited extent and situated on an exposed +part of the body, the most satisfactory method is complete removal, by +means of the knife, scissors, or sharp spoon, of the ulcerated surface +and of all the infected area around it, so as to leave a healthy surface +from which granulations may spring up. Should the raw surface left be +likely to result in an unsightly scar or in cicatricial contraction, +skin-grafting should be employed. + +For extensive ulcers on the limbs, the chest wall, or on other covered +parts, or when operative treatment is contra-indicated, the use of +tuberculin and exposure to the Rontgen rays have proved beneficial. The +induction of passive hyperaemia, by Bier's or by Klapp's apparatus, +should also be used, either alone or supplementary to other measures. + +No ulcerative process responds so readily to medicinal treatment as the +_syphilitic ulcer_ does to the intra-venous administration of arsenical +preparations of the "606" or "914" groups or to full doses of iodide of +potassium and mercury, and the local application of black wash. When the +ulceration has lasted for a long time, however, and is widespread and +deep, the duration of treatment is materially shortened by a thorough +scraping with the sharp spoon. + +#Treatment in relation to the Condition of the Ulcer.#--_Ulcers in a +weak condition._--If the weak condition of the ulcer is due to anaemia +or kidney disease, these affections must first be treated. Locally, the +imperfect granulations should be scraped away, and some stimulating +agent applied to the raw surface to promote the growth of healthy +granulations. For this purpose the sore may be covered with gauze +smeared with a 6 to 8 per cent. ointment of scarlet-red, the surrounding +parts being protected from the irritant action of the scarlet-red by a +layer of vaseline. A dressing of gauze moistened with eusol or of +boracic lint wrung out of red lotion (2 grains of sulphate of zinc, and +10 minims of compound tincture of lavender, to an ounce of water), and +covered with a layer of gutta-percha tissue, is also useful. + +When the condition has resulted from the prolonged use of moist +dressings, these must be stopped, the redundant granulations clipped +away with scissors, the surface rubbed with silver nitrate or sulphate +of copper (blue-stone), and dry dressings applied. + +When the ulcer has assumed the characters of a healing sore, skin-grafts +may be applied to hasten cicatrisation. + +_Ulcers in a callous condition_ call for treatment in three +directions--(1) The infective element must be eliminated. When the ulcer +is foul, relays of charcoal poultices (three parts of linseed meal to +one of charcoal), maintained for thirty-six to forty-eight hours, are +useful as a preliminary step. The base of the ulcer and the thickened +edges should then be freely scraped with a sharp spoon, and the +resulting raw surface sponged over with undiluted carbolic acid or +iodine, after which an antiseptic dressing is applied, and changed daily +till healthy granulations appear. (2) The venous return must be +facilitated by elevation of the limb and massage. (3) The induration of +the surrounding parts must be got rid of before contraction of the sore +is possible. For this purpose the free application of blisters, as first +recommended by Syme, leaves little to be desired. Liquor epispasticus +painted over the parts, or a large fly-blister (emplastrum cantharidis) +applied all round the ulcer, speedily disperses the inflammatory +products which cause the induration. The use of elastic pressure or of +strapping, of hot-air baths, or the making of multiple incisions in the +skin around the ulcer, fulfils the same object. + +As soon as the ulcer assumes the characters of a healing sore, it should +be covered with skin-grafts, which furnish a much better cicatrix than +that which forms when the ulcer is allowed to heal without such aid. + +A more radical method of treatment consists in excising the whole +ulcer, including its edges and about a quarter of an inch of the +surrounding tissue, as well as the underlying fibrous tissue, and +grafting the raw surface. + +_Ambulatory Treatment._--When the circumstances of the patient forbid +his lying up in bed, the healing of the ulcer is much delayed. He should +be instructed to take every possible opportunity of placing the limb in +an elevated position, and must constantly wear a firm bandage of +_elastic webbing_. This webbing is porous and admits of evaporation of +the skin and wound secretions--an advantage it has over Martin's rubber +bandage. The bandage should extend from the toes to well above the knee, +and should always be applied while the patient is in the recumbent +position with the leg elevated, preferably before getting out of bed in +the morning. Additional support is given to the veins if the bandage is +applied as a figure of eight. + +We have found the following method satisfactory in out-patient +practice. The patient lying on a couch, the limb is raised about +eighteen inches and kept in this position for five minutes--till the +excess of blood has left it. With the limb still raised, the ulcer with +the surrounding skin is covered with a layer, about half an inch thick, +of finely powdered boracic acid, and the leg, from foot to knee, +excluding the sole, is enveloped in a thick layer of wood-wool wadding. +This is held in position by ordinary cotton bandages, painted over with +liquid starch; while the starch is drying the limb is kept elevated. +With this appliance the patient may continue to work, and the dressing +does not require to be changed oftener than once in three or four weeks +(W. G. Richardson). + +When an ulcer becomes acutely _inflamed_ as a result of superadded +infection, antiseptic measures are employed to overcome the infection, +and ichthyol or other soothing applications may be used to allay the +pain. + +The _phagedaenic ulcer_ calls for more energetic means of disinfection; +the whole of the affected surface is touched with the actual cautery at +a white heat, or is painted with pure carbolic acid. Relays of charcoal +poultices are then applied until the spread of the disease is arrested. + +For the _irritable ulcer_ the most satisfactory treatment is complete +excision and subsequent skin-grafting. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +GANGRENE + + +Definition--Types: _Dry_, _Moist_--Varieties--Gangrene primarily due to + interference with circulation: _Senile gangrene_; _Embolic + gangrene_; _Gangrene following ligation of arteries_; _Gangrene + from mechanical causes_; _Gangrene from heat, chemical agents, and + cold_; _Diabetic gangrene_; _Gangrene associated with spasm of + blood vessels_; _Raynaud's disease_; _Angio-sclerotic gangrene_; + _Gangrene from ergot_. Bacterial varieties of gangrene. + _Pathology_--clinical varieties--_Acute infective gangrene_; + _Malignant oedema_; _Acute emphysematous_ or _gas gangrene_; + _Cancrum oris_, _etc_. Bed-sores: _Acute_; _chronic_. + +Gangrene or mortification is the process by which a portion of tissue +dies _en masse_, as distinguished from the molecular or cellular death +which constitutes ulceration. The dead portion is known as a _slough_. + +In this chapter we shall confine our attention to the process as it +affects the limbs and superficial parts, leaving gangrene of the viscera +to be described in regional surgery. + + +TYPES OF GANGRENE + +Two distinct types of gangrene are met with, which, from their most +obvious point of difference, are known respectively as _dry_ and +_moist_, and there are several clinical varieties of each type. + +Speaking generally, it may be said that dry gangrene is essentially due +to a simple _interference with the blood supply_ of a part; while the +main factor in the production of moist gangrene is _bacterial +infection_. + +The cardinal signs of gangrene are: change in the colour of the part, +coldness, loss of sensation and motor power, and, lastly, loss of +pulsation in the arteries. + +#Dry Gangrene# or #Mummification# is a comparatively slow form of local +death due, as a rule, to a diminution in the arterial blood supply of +the affected part, resulting from such causes as the gradual narrowing +of the lumen of the arteries by disease of their coats, or the blocking +of the main vessel by an embolus. + +As the fluids in the tissues are lost by evaporation the part becomes +dry and shrivelled, and as the skin is usually intact, infection does +not take place, or if it does, the want of moisture renders the part an +unsuitable soil, and the organisms do not readily find a footing. Any +spread of the process that may take place is chiefly influenced by the +anatomical distribution of the blocked arteries, and is arrested as soon +as it reaches an area rich in anastomotic vessels. The dead portion is +then cast off, the irritation resulting from the contact of the dead +with the still living tissue inducing the formation of granulations on +the proximal side of the junction, and these by slowly eating into the +dead portion produce a furrow--the _line of demarcation_--which +gradually deepens until complete separation is effected. As the muscles +and bones have a richer blood supply than the integument, the death of +skin and subcutaneous tissues extends higher than that of muscles and +bone, with the result that the stump left after spontaneous separation +is conical, the end of the bone projecting beyond the soft parts. + +_Clinical Features._--The part undergoing mortification becomes colder +than normal, the temperature falling to that of the surrounding +atmosphere. In many instances, but not in all, the onset of the process +is accompanied by severe neuralgic pain in the part, probably due to +anaemia of the nerves, to neuritis, or to the irritation of the exposed +axis cylinders by the dead and dying tissues around them. This pain soon +ceases and gives place to a complete loss of sensation. The dead part +becomes dry, horny, shrivelled, and semi-transparent--at first of a dark +brown, but finally of a black colour, from the dissemination of blood +pigment throughout the tissues. There is no putrefaction, and therefore +no putrid odour; and the condition being non-infective, there is not +necessarily any constitutional disturbance. In itself, therefore, dry +gangrene does not involve immediate risk to life; the danger lies in the +fact that the breach of surface at the line of demarcation furnishes a +possible means of entrance for bacteria, which may lead to infective +complications. + +#Moist Gangrene# is an acute process, the dead part retaining its fluids +and so affording a favourable soil for the development of bacteria. The +action of the organisms and their toxins on the adjacent tissues leads +to a rapid and wide spread of the process. The skin becomes moist and +macerated, and bullae, containing dark-coloured fluid or gases, form +under the epidermis. The putrefactive gases evolved cause the skin to +become emphysematous and crepitant and produce an offensive odour. The +tissues assume a greenish-black colour from the formation in them of a +sulphide of iron resulting from decomposition of the blood pigment. +Under certain conditions the dead part may undergo changes resembling +more closely those of ordinary post-mortem decomposition. Owing to its +nature the spread of the gangrene is seldom arrested by the natural +protective processes, and it usually continues until the condition +proves fatal from the absorption of toxins into the circulation. + +The _clinical features_ vary in the different varieties of moist +gangrene, but the local results of bacterial action and the +constitutional disturbance associated with toxin absorption are present +in all; the prognosis therefore is grave in the extreme. + +From what has been said, it will be gathered that in dry gangrene there +is no urgent call for operation to save the patient's life, the primary +indication being to prevent the access of bacteria to the dead part, and +especially to the surface exposed at the line of demarcation. In moist +gangrene, on the contrary, organisms having already obtained a footing, +immediate removal of the dead and dying tissues, as a rule, offers the +only hope of saving life. + + +VARIETIES OF GANGRENE + +#Varieties of Gangrene essentially due to Interference with the +Circulation# + +While the varieties of gangrene included in this group depend primarily +on interference with the circulation, it is to be borne in mind that the +clinical course of the affection may be profoundly influenced by +superadded infection with micro-organisms. Although the bacteria do not +play the most important part in producing tissue necrosis, their +subsequent introduction is an accident of such importance that it may +change the whole aspect of affairs and convert a dry form of gangrene +into one of the moist type. Moreover, the low state of vitality of the +tissues, and the extreme difficulty of securing and maintaining asepsis, +make it a sequel of great frequency. + +#Senile Gangrene.#--Senile gangrene is the commonest example of local +death produced by a _gradual_ diminution in the quantity of blood +passing through the parts, as a result of arterio-sclerosis or other +chronic disease of the arteries leading to diminution of their calibre. +It is the most characteristic example of the dry type of gangrene. As +the term indicates, it occurs in old persons, but the patient's age is +to be reckoned by the condition of his arteries rather than by the +number of his years. Thus the vessels of a comparatively young man who +has suffered from syphilis and been addicted to alcohol are more liable +to atheromatous degeneration leading to this form of gangrene than are +those of a much older man who has lived a regular and abstemious life. +This form of gangrene is much more common in men than in women. While it +usually attacks only one foot, it is not uncommon for the other foot to +be affected after an interval, and in some cases it is bilateral from +the outset. It must clearly be understood that any form of gangrene may +occur in old persons, the term senile being here restricted to that +variety which results from arterio-sclerosis. + +[Illustration: FIG. 20.--Senile Gangrene of the Foot, showing line of +demarcation.] + +_Clinical Features._--The commonest seat of the disease is in the toes, +especially the great toe, whence it spreads up the foot to the heel, or +even to the leg (Fig. 20). There is often a history of some slight +injury preceding its onset. The vitality of the tissues is so low that +the balance between life and death may be turned by the most trivial +injury, such as a cut while paring a toe-nail or a corn, a blister +caused by an ill-fitting shoe or the contact of a hot-bottle. In some +cases the actual gangrene is determined by thrombosis of the popliteal +or tibial arteries, which are already narrowed by obliterating +endarteritis. + +It is common to find that the patient has been troubled for a long time +before the onset of definite signs of gangrene, with cold feet, with +tingling and loss of feeling, or a peculiar sensation as if walking on +cotton wool. + +The first evidence of the death of the part varies in different cases. +Sometimes a dark-blue spot appears on the medial side of the great toe +and gradually increases in size; or a blister containing blood-stained +fluid may form. Streaks or patches of dark-blue mottling appear higher +up on the foot or leg. In other cases a small sore surrounded by a +congested areola forms in relation to the nail and refuses to heal. Such +sores on the toes of old persons are always to be looked upon with +suspicion and treated with the greatest care; and the urine should be +examined for sugar. There is often severe, deep-seated pain of a +neuralgic character, with cramps in the limb, and these may persist long +after a line of demarcation has formed. The dying part loses sensibility +to touch and becomes cold and shrivelled. + +All the physical appearances and clinical symptoms associated with dry +gangrene supervene, and the dead portion is delimited by a line of +demarcation. If this forms slowly and irregularly it indicates a very +unsatisfactory condition of the circulation; while, if it forms quickly +and decidedly, the presumption is that the circulation in the parts +above is fairly good. The separation of the dead part is always attended +with the risk of infection taking place, and should this occur, the +temperature rises and other evidences of toxaemia appear. + +_Prophylaxis._--The toes and feet of old people, the condition of whose +circulation predisposes them to gangrene, should be protected from +slight injuries such as may be received while paring nails, cutting +corns, or wearing ill-fitting boots. The patient should also be warned +of the risk of exposure to cold, the use of hot-bottles, and of placing +the feet near a fire. Attempts have been made to improve the peripheral +circulation by establishing an anastomosis between the main artery of a +limb and its companion vein, so that arterial blood may reach the +peripheral capillaries--reversal of the circulation--but the clinical +results have proved disappointing. (See _Op. Surg._, p. 29.) + +_Treatment._--When there is evidence that gangrene has occurred, the +first indication is to prevent infection by purifying the part, and +after careful drying to wrap it in a thick layer of absorbent and +antiseptic wool, retained in place by a loosely applied bandage. A +slight degree of elevation of the limb is an advantage, but it must not +be sufficient to diminish the amount of blood entering the part. +Hot-bottles are to be used with the utmost caution. As absolute dryness +is essential, ointments or other greasy dressings are to be avoided, as +they tend to prevent evaporation from the skin. Opium should be given +freely to alleviate pain. Stimulation is to be avoided, and the patient +should be carefully dieted. + +When the gangrene is limited to the toes in old and feeble patients, +some surgeons advocate the expectant method of treatment, waiting for a +line of demarcation to form and allowing the dead part to be separated. +This takes place so slowly, however, that it necessitates the patient +being laid up for many weeks, or even months; and we agree with the +majority in advising early amputation. + +In this connection it is worthy of note that there are certain points at +which gangrene naturally tends to become arrested--namely, at the highly +vascular areas in the neighbourhood of joints. Thus gangrene of the +great toe often stops when it reaches the metatarso-phalangeal joint; or +if it trespasses this limit it may be arrested either at the +tarso-metatarsal or at the ankle joint. If these be passed, it usually +spreads up the leg to just below the knee before signs of arrestment +appear. Further, it is seen from pathological specimens that the spread +is greater on the dorsal than on the plantar aspect, and that the death +of skin and subcutaneous tissues extends higher than that of bone and +muscle. + +These facts furnish us with indications as to the seat and method of +amputation. Experience has proved that in senile gangrene of the lower +extremity the most reliable and satisfactory results are obtained by +amputating in the region of the knee, care being taken to perform the +operation so as to leave the prepatellar anastomosis intact by retaining +the patella in the anterior flap. The most satisfactory operation in +these cases is Gritti's supra-condylar amputation. Haemorrhage is easily +controlled by digital pressure, and the use of a tourniquet should be +dispensed with, as the constriction of the limb is liable to interfere +with the vitality of the flaps. + +When the tibial vessels can be felt pulsating at the ankle it may be +justifiable, if the patient urgently desires it, to amputate lower than +the knee; but there is considerable risk of gangrene recurring in the +stump and necessitating a second operation. + +That amputation for senile gangrene performed between the ankle and the +knee seldom succeeds, is explained by the fact that the vascular +obstruction is usually in the upper part of the posterior tibial artery, +and the operation is therefore performed through tissues with an +inadequate blood supply. It is not uncommon, indeed, on amputating above +the knee, to find even the popliteal artery plugged by a clot. This +should be removed at the amputation by squeezing the vessel from above +downward by a "milking" movement, or by "catheterising the artery" with +the aid of a cannula with a terminal aperture. + +It is to be borne in mind that the object of amputation in these cases +is merely to remove the gangrenous part, and so relieve the patient of +the discomfort and the risks from infection which its presence involves. +While it is true that in many of these patients the operation is borne +remarkably well, it must be borne in mind that those who suffer from +senile gangrene are of necessity bad lives, and a guarded opinion should +be expressed as to the prospects of survival. The possibility of the +disease developing in the other limb has already been referred to. + +[Illustration: FIG. 21.--Embolic Gangrene of Hand and Arm.] + +#Embolic Gangrene# (Fig. 21).--This is the most typical form of gangrene +resulting from the _sudden_ occlusion of the main artery of a part, +whether by the impaction of an embolus or the formation of a thrombus in +its lumen, when the collateral circulation is not sufficiently free to +maintain the vitality of the tissues. + +There is sudden pain at the site of impaction of the embolus, and the +pulses beyond are lost. The limb becomes cold, numb, insensitive, and +powerless. It is often pale at first--hence the term "white gangrene" +sometimes applicable to the early appearances, which closely resemble +those presented by the limb of a corpse. + +If the part is aseptic it shrivels, and presents the ordinary features +of dry gangrene. It is liable, however, especially in the lower +extremity and when the veins also are obstructed, to become infected and +to assume the characters of the moist type. + +The extent of the gangrene depends upon the site of impaction of the +embolus, thus if the _abdominal aorta_ becomes suddenly occluded by an +embolus at its bifurcation, the obstruction of the iliacs and femorals +induces symmetrical gangrene of both extremities as high as the inguinal +ligaments. When gangrene follows occlusion of the _external iliac_ or of +the _femoral artery_ above the origin of its deep branch, the death of +the limb extends as high as the middle or upper third of the thigh. When +the _femoral_ below the origin of its deep branch or the _popliteal +artery_ is obstructed, the veins remaining pervious, the anastomosis +through the profunda is sufficient to maintain the vascular supply, and +gangrene does not necessarily follow. The rupture of a popliteal +aneurysm, however, by compressing the vein and the articular branches, +usually determines gangrene. When an embolus becomes impacted at the +_bifurcation of the popliteal_, if gangrene ensues it usually spreads +well up the leg. + +When the _axillary artery_ is the seat of embolic impaction, and +gangrene ensues, the process usually reaches the middle of the upper +arm. Gangrene following the blocking of the _brachial_ at its +bifurcation usually extends as far as the junction of the lower and +middle thirds of the forearm. + +Gangrene due to thrombosis or embolism is sometimes met with in patients +recovering from typhus, typhoid, or other fevers, such as that +associated with child-bed. It occurs in peripheral parts, such as the +toes, fingers, nose, or ears. + +_Treatment._--The general treatment of embolic gangrene is the same as +that for the senile form. Success has followed opening the artery and +removing the embolus. The artery is exposed at the seat of impaction +and, having been clamped above and below, a longitudinal opening is made +and the clot carefully extracted with the aid of forceps; it is +sometimes unexpectedly long (one recorded from the femoral artery +measured nearly 34 inches); the wound in the artery is then sewn up with +fine silk soaked in paraffin. When amputation is indicated, it must be +performed sufficiently high to ensure a free vascular supply to the +flaps. + +#Gangrene following Ligation of Arteries.#--After the ligation of an +artery in its continuity--for example, in the treatment of aneurysm--the +limb may for some days remain in a condition verging on gangrene, the +distal parts being cold, devoid of sensation, and powerless. As the +collateral circulation is established, the vitality of the tissues is +gradually restored and these symptoms pass off. In some cases, +however,--and especially in the lower extremity--gangrene ensues and +presents the same characters as those resulting from embolism. It tends +to be of the dry type. The occlusion of the vein as well as the artery +is not found to increase the risk of gangrene. + +#Gangrene from Mechanical Constriction of the Vessels of the part.#--The +application of a bandage or plaster-of-Paris case too tightly, or of a +tourniquet for too long a time, has been known to lead to death of the +part beyond; but such cases are rare, as are also those due to the +pressure of a fractured bone or of a tumour on a large artery or vein. +When gangrene occurs from such causes, it tends to be of the moist type. + +Much commoner is it to meet with localised areas of necrosis due to the +excessive _pressure of splints_ over bony prominences, such as the +lateral malleolus, the medial condyle of the humerus, or femur, or over +the dorsum of the foot. This is especially liable to occur when the +nutrition of the skin is depressed by any interference with its +nerve-supply, such as follows injuries to the spine or peripheral +nerves, disease of the brain, or acute anterior poliomyelitis. When the +splint is removed the skin pressed upon is found to be of a pale yellow +or grey colour, and is surrounded by a ring of hyperaemia. If protected +from infection, the clinical course is that of dry gangrene. + +Bed-sores, which are closely allied to pressure sores, will be described +at the end of this chapter. + +When a localised portion of tissue, for example, a piece of skin, is so +severely _crushed_ or _bruised_ that its blood vessels are occluded and +its structure destroyed, it dies, and, if not infected with bacteria, +dries up, and the shrivelled brown skin is slowly separated by the +growth of granulation tissue beneath and around it. + +Fingers, toes, or even considerable portions of limbs may in the same +way be suddenly destroyed by severe trauma, and undergo mummification. +If organisms gain access, typical moist gangrene may ensue, or changes +similar to those of ordinary post-mortem decomposition may take place. + +_Treatment._--The first indication is to exclude bacteria by purifying +the damaged part and its surroundings, and applying dry, non-irritating +dressings. + +When these measures are successful, dry gangrene ensues. The raw surface +left after the separation of the dead skin may be allowed to heal by +granulation, or may be covered by skin-grafts. In the case of a finger +or a limb it is not necessary to wait until spontaneous separation takes +place, as this is often a slow process. When a well-marked line of +demarcation has formed, amputation may be performed just sufficiently +far above it to enable suitable flaps to be made. + +The end of a stump, after spontaneous separation of the gangrenous +portion, requires to be trimmed, sufficient bone being removed to permit +of the soft parts coming together. + +If moist gangrene supervenes, amputation must be performed without +delay, and at a higher level. + +#Gangrene from Heat, Chemical Agents, and Cold.#--Severe #burns# and +#scalds# may be followed by necrosis of tissue. So long as the parts are +kept absolutely dry--as, for example, by the picric acid method of +treatment--the grossly damaged portions of tissue undergo dry gangrene; +but when wet or oily dressings are applied and organisms gain access, +moist gangrene follows. + +Strong #chemical agents#, such as caustic potash, nitric or sulphuric +acid, may also induce local tissue necrosis, the general appearances of +the lesions produced being like those of severe burns. The resulting +sloughs are slow to separate, and leave deep punched-out cavities which +are long of healing. + +#Carbolic Gangrene.#--Carbolic acid, even in comparatively weak +solution, is liable to induce dry gangrene when applied as a fomentation +to a finger, especially in women and children. Thrombosis occurs in the +blood vessels of the part, which at first is pale and soft, but later +becomes dark and leathery. On account of the anaesthetic action of +carbolic acid, the onset of the process is painless, and the patient +does not realise his danger. A line of demarcation soon forms, but the +dead part separates very slowly. + +#Gangrene from Frost-bite.#--It is difficult to draw the line between +the third degree of chilblain and the milder forms of true frost-bite; +the difference is merely one of degree. Frost-bite affects chiefly the +toes and fingers--especially the great toe and the little finger--the +ears, and the nose. In this country it is seldom seen except in members +of the tramp class, who, in addition to being exposed to cold by +sleeping in the open air, are ill-fed and generally debilitated. The +condition usually manifests itself after the parts, having been +subjected to extreme cold, are brought into warm surroundings. The first +symptom is numbness in the part, followed by a sense of weight, +tingling, and finally by complete loss of sensation. The part attacked +becomes white and bleached-looking, feels icy cold, and is insensitive +to touch. Either immediately, or, it may be, not for several days, it +becomes discoloured and swollen, and finally contracts and shrivels. +Above the dead area the limb may be the seat of excruciating pain. The +dead portion is cast off, as in other forms of dry gangrene, by the +formation of a line of demarcation. + +To prevent the occurrence of gangrene from frost-bite it is necessary to +avoid the sudden application of heat. The patient should be placed in a +cold room, and the part rubbed with snow, or put in a cold bath, and +have light friction applied to it. As the circulation is restored the +general surroundings and the local applications are gradually made +warmer. Elevation of the part, wrapping it in cotton wool, and removal +to a warmer room, are then permissible, and stimulants and warm drinks +may be given with caution. When by these means the occurrence of +gangrene is averted, recovery ensues, its onset being indicated by the +white parts assuming a livid red hue and becoming the seat of an acute +burning sensation. + +A condition known as _Trench feet_ was widely prevalent amongst the +troops in France during the European War. Although allied to frost-bite, +cold appears to play a less important part in its causation than +humidity and constriction of the limbs producing ischaemia of the feet. +Changes were found in the endothelium of the blood vessels, the axis +cylinders of nerves, and the muscles. The condition does not occur in +civil life. + +#Diabetic Gangrene.#--This form of gangrene is prone to occur in persons +over fifty years of age who suffer from glycosuria. The arteries are +often markedly diseased. In some cases the existence of the glycosuria +is unsuspected before the onset of the gangrene, and it is only on +examining the urine that the cause of the condition is discovered. The +gangrenous process seldom begins as suddenly as that associated with +embolism, and, like senile gangrene, which it may closely simulate in +its early stages, it not infrequently begins after a slight injury to +one of the toes. It but rarely, however, assumes the dry, shrivelling +type, as a rule being attended with swelling, oedema, and dusky redness +of the foot, and severe pain. According to Paget, the dead part remains +warm longer than in other forms of senile gangrene; there is a greater +tendency for patches of skin at some distance from the primary seat of +disease to become gangrenous, and for the death of tissue to extend +upwards in the subcutaneous planes, leaving the overlying skin +unaffected. The low vitality of the tissues favours the growth of +bacteria, and if these gain access, the gangrene assumes the characters +of the moist type and spreads rapidly. + +The rules for amputation are the same as those governing the treatment +of senile gangrene, the level at which the limb is removed depending +upon whether the gangrene is of the dry or moist type. The general +treatment for diabetes must, of course, be employed whether amputation +is performed or not. Paget recommended that the dietetic treatment +should not be so rigid as in uncomplicated diabetes, and that opium +should be given freely. + +The _prognosis_ even after amputation is unfavourable. In many cases the +patient dies with symptoms of diabetic coma within a few days of the +operation; or, if he survives this, he may eventually succumb to +diabetes. In others there is sloughing of the flaps and death results +from toxaemia. Occasionally the other limb becomes gangrenous. On the +other hand, the glycosuria may diminish or may even disappear after +amputation. + +#Gangrene associated with Spasm of Blood Vessels.#--#Raynaud's Disease#, +or symmetrical gangrene, is supposed to be due to spasm of the +arterioles, resulting from peripheral neuritis. It occurs oftenest in +women, between the ages of eighteen and thirty, who are the subjects of +uterine disorders, anaemia, or chlorosis. Cold is an aggravating factor, +as the disease is commonest during the winter months. The digits of both +hands or the toes of both feet are simultaneously attacked, and the +disease seldom spreads beyond the phalanges or deeper than the skin. + +The first evidence is that the fingers become cold, white, and +insensitive to touch and pain. These attacks of _local syncope_ recur at +varying intervals for months or even years. They last for a few minutes +or even for some hours, and as they pass off the parts become hyperaemic +and painful. + +A more advanced stage of the disease is known as _local asphyxia_. The +circulation through the fingers becomes exceedingly sluggish, and the +parts assume a dull, livid hue. There is swelling and burning or +shooting pain. This may pass off in a few days, or may increase in +severity, with the formation of bullae, and end in dry gangrene. As a +rule, the slough which forms is comparatively small and superficial, +but it may take some months to separate. The condition tends to recur in +successive winters. + +The _treatment_ consists in remedying any nervous or uterine disorder +that may be present, keeping the parts warm by wrapping them in cotton +wool, and in the use of hot-air or electric baths, the parts being +immersed in water through which a constant current is passed. When +gangrene occurs, it is treated on the same lines as other forms of dry +gangrene, but if amputation is called for it is only with a view to +removing the dead part. + +#Angio-sclerotic Gangrene.#--A form of gangrene due to _angio-sclerosis_ +is occasionally met with in young persons, even in children. It bears +certain analogies to Raynaud's disease in that spasm of the vessels +plays a part in determining the local death. + +The main arteries are narrowed by hyperplastic endarteritis followed by +thrombosis, and similar changes are found in the veins. The condition is +usually met with in the feet, but the upper extremity may be affected, +and is attended with very severe pain, rendering sleep impossible. + +The patient is liable to sudden attacks of numbness, tingling and +weakness of the limbs which pass off with rest--_intermittent +claudication_. During these attacks the large arteries--femoral, +brachial, and subclavian--can be felt as firm cords, while pulsation is +lost in the peripheral vessels. Gangrene eventually ensues, is attended +with great pain and runs a slow course. It is treated on the same lines +as Raynaud's disease. + +#Gangrene from Ergot.#--Gangrene may occur from interference with blood +supply, the result of tetanic contraction of the minute vessels, such as +results in ill-nourished persons who eat large quantities of coarse rye +bread contaminated with the _claviceps purpurea_ and containing the +ergot of rye. It has also occurred in the fingers of patients who have +taken ergot medicinally over long periods. The gangrene, which attacks +the toes, fingers, ears, or nose, is preceded by formication, numbness, +and pains in the parts to be affected, and is of the dry variety. + +In this country it is usually met with in sailors off foreign ships, +whose dietary largely consists of rye bread. Trivial injuries may be the +starting-point, the anaesthesia produced by the ergotin preventing the +patient taking notice of them. Alcoholism is a potent predisposing +cause. + +As it is impossible to predict how far the process will spread, it is +advisable to wait for the formation of a line of demarcation before +operating, and then to amputate immediately above the dead part. + + +BACTERIAL VARIETIES OF GANGRENE + +The acute bacillary forms of gangrene all assume the moist type from the +first, and, spreading rapidly, result in extensive necrosis of tissue, +and often end fatally. + +The infection is usually a mixed one in which anaerobic bacteria +predominate. The anaerobe most constantly present is the _bacillus +aerogenes capsulatus_, usually in association with other anaerobes, and +sometimes with pyogenic diplo- and streptococci. According to the mode of +action of the associated organisms and the combined effects of their +toxins on the tissues, the gangrenous process presents different +pathological and clinical features. Some combinations, for example, +result in a rapidly spreading cellulitis with early necrosis of +connective tissue accompanied by thrombosis throughout the capillary and +venous circulation of the parts implicated; other combinations cause +great oedema of the part, and others again lead to the formation of gases +in the tissues, particularly in the muscles. + +These different effects do not appear to be due to a specific action of +any one of the organisms present, but to the combined effect of a +particular group living in symbiosis. + +According as the cellulitic, the oedematous, or the gaseous +characteristics predominate, the clinical varieties of bacillary +gangrene may be separately described, but it must be clearly understood +that they frequently overlap and cannot always be distinguished from one +another. + +#Clinical Varieties of Bacillary Gangrene.#--#Acute infective gangrene# +is the form most commonly met with in civil practice. It may follow such +trivial injuries as a pin-prick or a scratch, the signs of acute +cellulitis rapidly giving place to those of a spreading gangrene. Or it +may ensue on a severe railway, machinery, or street accident, when +lacerated and bruised tissues are contaminated with gross dirt. Often +within a few hours of the injury the whole part rapidly becomes painful, +swollen, oedematous, and tense. The skin is at first glazed, and perhaps +paler than normal, but soon assumes a dull red or purplish hue, and +bullae form on the surface. Putrefactive gases may be evolved in the +tissues, and their presence is indicated by emphysematous crackling when +the part is handled. The spread of the disease is so rapid that its +progress is quite visible from hour to hour, and may be traced by the +occurrence of red lines along the course of the lymphatics of the limb. +In the most acute cases the death of the affected part takes place so +rapidly that the local changes indicative of gangrene have not time to +occur, and the fact that the part is dead may be overlooked. + +[Illustration: FIG. 22.--Gangrene of Terminal Phalanx of Index-Finger, +following cellulitis of hand resulting from a scratch on the palm of the +hand.] + +Rigors may occur, but the temperature is not necessarily raised--indeed, +it is sometimes subnormal. The pulse is small, feeble, rapid, and +irregular. Unless amputation is promptly performed, death usually +follows within thirty-six or forty-eight hours. Even early operation +does not always avert the fatal issue, because the quantity of toxin +absorbed and its extreme virulence are often more than even a robust +subject can outlive. + +_Treatment._--Every effort must be made to purify all such wounds as are +contaminated by earth, street dust, stable refuse, or other forms of +gross dirt. Devitalised and contaminated tissue is removed with the +knife or scissors and the wound purified with antiseptics of the +chlorine group or with hydrogen peroxide. If there is a reasonable +prospect that infection has been overcome, the wound may be at once +sutured, but if this is doubtful it is left open and packed or +irrigated. + +When acute gangrene has set in no treatment short of amputation is of +any avail, and the sooner this is done, the greater is the hope of +saving the patient. The limb must be amputated well beyond the apparent +limits of the infected area, and stringent precautions must be taken to +avoid discharge from the already gangrenous area reaching the operation +wound. An assistant or nurse, who is to take no other part in the +operation, is told off to carry out the preliminary purification, and to +hold the limb during the operation. + +#Malignant Oedema.#--This form of acute gangrene has been defined as +"a spreading inflammatory oedema attended with emphysema, and ultimately +followed by gangrene of the skin and adjacent parts." The predominant +organism is the _bacillus of malignant oedema_ or _vibrion septique_ of +Pasteur, which is found in garden soil, dung, and various putrefying +substances. It is anaerobic, and occurs as long, thick rods with +somewhat rounded ends and several laterally placed flagella. Spores, +which have a high power of resistance, form in the centre of the rods, +and bulge out the sides so as to give the organisms a spindle-shaped +outline. Other pathogenic organisms are also present and aid the +specific bacillus in its action. + +At the bedside it is difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish it +from acute infective gangrene. Both follow on the same kinds of injury +and run an exceedingly rapid course. In malignant oedema, however, the +incidence of the disease is mainly on the superficial parts, which +become oedematous and emphysematous, and acquire a marbled appearance +with the veins clearly outlined. Early disappearance of sensation is a +particularly grave symptom. Bullae form on the skin, and the tissues +have "a peculiar heavy but not putrid odour." The constitutional effects +are extremely severe, and death may ensue within a few hours. + +#Acute Emphysematous# or #Gas Gangrene# was prevalent in certain areas +at various periods during the European War. It follows infection of +lacerated wounds with the _bacillus aerogenes capsulatus_, usually in +combination with other anaerobes, and its main incidence is on the +muscles, which rapidly become infiltrated with gas that spreads +throughout the whole extent of the muscle, disintegrating its fibres and +leading to necrosis. The gangrenous process spreads with appalling +rapidity, the limb becoming enormously swollen, painful, and crepitant +or even tympanitic. Patches of coppery or purple colour appear on the +skin, and bullae containing blood-stained serum form on the surface. The +toxaemia is profound, and the face and lips assume a characteristic +cyanosis. The condition is attended with a high mortality. Only in the +early stages and when the infection is limited are local measures +successful in arresting the spread; in more severe cases amputation is +the only means of saving life. + +#Cancrum Oris# or #Noma#.--This disease is believed to be due to a +specific bacillus, which occurs in long delicate rods, and is chiefly +found at the margin of the gangrenous area. It is prone to attack +unhealthy children from two to five years of age, especially during +their convalescence from such diseases as measles, scarlet fever, or +typhoid, but may attack adults when they are debilitated. It is most +common in the mouth, but sometimes occurs on the vulva. In the mouth it +begins as an ulcerative stomatitis, more especially affecting the gums +or inner aspect of the cheek. The child lies prostrated, and from the +open mouth foul-smelling saliva, streaked with blood, escapes; the face +is of an ashy-grey colour, the lips dark and swollen. On the inner +aspect of the cheek is a deeply ulcerated surface, with sloughy shreds +of dark-brown or black tissue covering its base; the edges are +irregular, firm, and swollen, and the surrounding mucous membrane is +infiltrated and oedematous. In the course of a few hours a dark spot +appears on the outer aspect of the cheek, and rapidly increases in size; +towards the centre it is black, shading off through blue and grey into a +dark-red area which extends over the cheek (Fig. 23). The tissue +implicated is at first firm and indurated, but as it loses its vitality +it becomes doughy and sodden. Finally a slough forms, and, when it +separates, the cheek is perforated. + +Meanwhile the process spreads inside the mouth, and the gums, the floor +of the mouth, or even the jaws, may become gangrenous and the teeth fall +out. The constitutional disturbance is severe, the temperature raised, +and the pulse feeble and rapid. + +The extremely foetid odour which pervades the room or even the house the +patient occupies, is usually sufficient to suggest the diagnosis of +cancrum oris. The odour must not be mistaken for that due to +decomposition of sordes on the teeth and gums of a debilitated patient. + +The _prognosis_ is always grave in the extreme, the main risks being +general toxaemia and septic pneumonia. When recovery takes place there is +serious deformity, and considerable portions of the jaws may be lost by +necrosis. + +[Illustration: FIG. 23.--Cancrum oris. + +(From a photograph lent by Sir George T. Beatson.)] + +_Treatment._--The only satisfactory treatment is thorough removal under +an anaesthetic of all the sloughy tissue, with the surrounding zone in +which the organisms are active. This is most efficiently accomplished by +the knife or scissors, cutting until the tissue bleeds freely, after +which the raw surface is painted with undiluted carbolic acid and +dressed with iodoform gauze. It may be necessary to remove large pieces +of bone when the necrotic process has implicated the jaws. The mouth +must be constantly sprayed with peroxide of hydrogen, and washed out +with a disinfectant and deodorant lotion, such as Condy's fluid. The +patient's general condition calls for free stimulation. + +The deformity resulting from these necessarily heroic measures is not so +great as might be expected, and can be further diminished by plastic +operations, which should be undertaken before cicatricial contraction +has occurred. + + +BED-SORES + +Bed-sores are most frequently met with in old and debilitated patients, +or in those whose tissues are devitalised by acute or chronic diseases +associated with stagnation of blood in the peripheral veins. Any +interference with the nerve-supply of the skin, whether from injury or +disease of the central nervous system or of the peripheral nerves, +strongly predisposes to the formation of bed-sores. Prolonged and +excessive pressure over a bony prominence, especially if the parts be +moist with skin secretions, urine, or wound discharges, determines the +formation of a sore. Excoriations, which may develop into true +bed-sores, sometimes form where two skin surfaces remain constantly +apposed, as in the region of the scrotum or labium, under pendulous +mammae, or between fingers or toes confined in a splint. + +[Illustration: FIG. 24.--Acute Bed-Sores over Right Buttock.] + +_Clinical Features._--Two clinical varieties are met with--the acute +and the chronic bed-sore. + +The _acute_ bed-sore usually occurs over the sacrum or buttock. It +develops rapidly after spinal injuries and in the course of certain +brain diseases. The part affected becomes red and congested, while the +surrounding parts are oedematous and swollen, blisters form, and the skin +loses its vitality (Fig. 24). + +In advanced cases of general paralysis of the insane, a peculiar form of +acute bed-sore beginning as a blister, and passing on to the formation +of a black, dry eschar, which slowly separates, occurs on such parts as +the medial side of the knee, the angle of the scapula, and the heel. + +The _chronic_ bed-sore begins as a dusky reddish purple patch, which +gradually becomes darker till it is almost black. The parts around are +oedematous, and a blister may form. This bursts and exposes the papillae +of the skin, which are of a greenish hue. A tough greyish-black slough +forms, and is slowly separated. It is not uncommon for the gangrenous +area to continue to spread both in width and in depth till it reaches +the periosteum or bone. Bed-sores over the sacrum sometimes implicate +the vertebral canal and lead to spinal meningitis, which usually proves +fatal. + +In old and debilitated patients the septic absorption taking place from +a bed-sore often proves a serious complication of other surgical +conditions. From this cause, for example, old people may succumb during +the treatment of a fractured thigh. + +The granulating surface left on the separation of the slough tends to +heal comparatively rapidly. + +_Prevention of Bed-sores._--The first essential in the prevention of +bed-sores is the regular changing of the patient's position, so that no +one part of the body is continuously pressed upon for any length of +time. Ring-pads of wool, air-cushions, or water-beds are necessary to +remove pressure from prominent parts. Absolute dryness of the skin is +all-important. At least once a day, the sacrum, buttocks, +shoulder-blades, heels, elbows, malleoli, or other parts exposed to +pressure, must be sponged with soap and water, thoroughly dried, and +then rubbed with methylated spirit, which is allowed to dry on the skin. +Dusting the part with boracic acid powder not only keeps it dry, but +prevents the development of bacteria in the skin secretions. + +In operation cases, care must be taken that irritating chemicals used to +purify the skin do not collect under the patient and remain in contact +with the skin of the sacrum and buttocks during the time he is on the +operating-table. There is reason to believe that the so-called +"post-operation bed-sore" may be due to such causes. A similar result +has been known to follow soiling of the sheets by the escape of a +turpentine enema. + +_Treatment._--Once a bed-sore has formed, every effort must be made to +prevent its spread. Alcohol is used to cleanse the broken surface, and +dry absorbent dressings are applied and frequently changed. It is +sometimes found necessary to employ moist or oily substances, such as +boracic poultices, eucalyptus ointment, or balsam of Peru, to facilitate +the separation of sloughs, or to promote the growth of granulations. In +patients who are not extremely debilitated the slough may be excised, +the raw surface scraped, and then painted with iodine. + +Skin-grafting is sometimes useful in covering in the large raw surface +left after separation or removal of sloughs. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BACTERIAL AND OTHER WOUND INFECTIONS + + +_Erysipelas_--_Diphtheria_--_Tetanus_--_Hydrophobia_--_Anthrax_-- + _Glanders_--_Actinomycosis_--_Mycetoma_--_Delhi + boil_--_Chigoe_--_Poisoning by insects_--_Snake-bites_. + + +ERYSIPELAS + +Erysipelas, popularly known as "rose," is an acute spreading infective +disease of the skin or of a mucous membrane due to the action of a +streptococcus. Infection invariably takes place through an abrasion of +the surface, although this may be so slight that it escapes observation +even when sought for. The streptococci are found most abundantly in the +lymph spaces just beyond the swollen margin of the inflammatory area, +and in the serous blebs which sometimes form on the surface. + +#Clinical Features.#--_Facial erysipelas_ is the commonest clinical +variety, infection usually occurring through some slight abrasion in the +region of the mouth or nose, or from an operation wound in this area. +From this point of origin the inflammation may spread all over the face +and scalp as far back as the nape of the neck. It stops, however, at the +chin, and never extends on to the front of the neck. There is great +oedema of the face, the eyes becoming closed up, and the features +unrecognisable. The inflammation may spread to the meninges, the +intracranial venous sinuses, the eye, or the ear. In some cases the +erysipelas invades the mucous membrane of the mouth, and spreads to the +fauces and larynx, setting up an oedema of the glottis which may prove +dangerous to life. + +Erysipelas occasionally attacks an operation wound that has become +septic; and it may accompany septic infection of the genital tract in +puerperal women, or the separation of the umbilical cord in infants +(_erysipelas neonatorum_). After an incubation period, which varies from +fifteen to sixty hours, the patient complains of headache, pains in the +back and limbs, loss of appetite, nausea, and frequently there is +vomiting. He has a chill or slight rigor, initiating a rise of +temperature to 103, 104, or 105 F.; and a full bounding pulse of +about 100 (Fig. 25). The tongue is foul, the breath heavy, and, as a +rule, the bowels are constipated. There is frequently albuminuria, and +occasionally nocturnal delirium. A moderate degree of leucocytosis +(15,000 to 20,000) is usually present. + +Around the seat of inoculation a diffuse red patch forms, varying in hue +from a bright scarlet to a dull brick-red. The edges are slightly raised +above the level of the surrounding skin, as may readily be recognised by +gently stroking the part from the healthy towards the affected area. The +skin is smooth, tense, and glossy, and presents here and there blisters +filled with serous fluid. The local temperature is raised, and the part +is the seat of a burning sensation and is tender to the touch, the most +tender area being the actively spreading zone which lies about half an +inch beyond the red margin. + +[Illustration: FIG. 25.--Chart of Erysipelas occurring in a wound.] + +The disease tends to spread spasmodically and irregularly, and the +direction and extent of its progress may be recognised by mapping out +the peripheral zone of tenderness. Red streaks appear along the lines of +the superficial lymph vessels, and the deep lymphatics may sometimes be +palpated as firm, tender cords. The neighbouring glands, also, are +generally enlarged and tender. + +The disease lasts for from two or three days to as many weeks, and +relapses are frequent. Spontaneous resolution usually takes place, but +the disease may prove fatal from absorption of toxins, involvement of +the brain or meninges, or from general streptococcal infection. + +#Complications.#--_Diffuse suppurative cellulitis_ is the most serious +local complication, and results from a mixed infection with other +pyogenic bacteria. Small _localised superficial abscesses_ may form +during the convalescent stage. They are doubtless due to the action of +skin bacteria, which attack the tissues devitalised by the erysipelas. A +persistent form of _oedema_ sometimes remains after recurrent attacks of +erysipelas, especially when they affect the face or the lower extremity, +a condition which is referred to with elephantiasis. + +#Treatment.#--The first indication is to endeavour to arrest the spread +of the process. We have found that by painting with linimentum iodi, a +ring half an inch broad, about an inch in front of the peripheral tender +zone--not the red margin--an artificial leucocytosis is produced, and +the advancing streptococci are thereby arrested. Several coats of the +iodine are applied, one after the other, and this is repeated daily for +several days, even although the erysipelas has not overstepped the ring. +Success depends upon using the liniment of iodine (the tincture is not +strong enough), and in applying it well in front of the disease. To +allay pain the most useful local applications are ichthyol ointment (1 +in 6), or lead and opium fomentations. + +The general treatment consists in attending to the emunctories, in +administrating quinine in small--two-grain--doses every four hours, or +salicylate of iron (2-5 gr. every three hours), and in giving plenty of +fluid nourishment. It is worthy of note that the anti-streptococcic +serum has proved of less value in the treatment of erysipelas than might +have been expected, probably because the serum is not made from the +proper strain of streptococcus. + +It is not necessary to isolate cases of erysipelas, provided the usual +precautions against carrying infection from one patient to another are +rigidly carried out. + + +DIPHTHERIA + +Diphtheria is an acute infective disease due to the action of a specific +bacterium, the _bacillus diphtheriae_ or _Klebs-Loffler bacillus_. The +disease is usually transmitted from one patient to another, but it may +be contracted from cats, fowls, or through the milk of infected cows. +Cases have occurred in which the surgeon has carried the infection from +one patient to another through neglect of antiseptic precautions. The +incubation period varies from two to seven days. + +#Clinical Features.#--In _pharyngeal diphtheria_, on the first or +second day of the disease, redness and swelling of the mucous membrane +of the pharynx, tonsils, and palate are well marked, and small, circular +greenish or grey patches of false membrane, composed of necrosed +epithelium, fibrin, leucocytes, and red blood corpuscles, begin to +appear. These rapidly increase in area and thickness, till they coalesce +and form a complete covering to the parts. In the pharynx the false +membrane is less adherent to the surface than it is when the disease +affects the air-passages. The diphtheritic process may spread from the +pharynx to the nasal cavities, causing blocking of the nares, with a +profuse ichorous discharge from the nostrils, and sometimes severe +epistaxis. The infection may spread along the nasal duct to the +conjunctiva. The middle ear also may become involved by spread along the +auditory (Eustachian) tube. + +The lymph glands behind the angle of the jaw enlarge and become tender, +and may suppurate from superadded infection. There is pain on +swallowing, and often earache; and the patient speaks with a nasal +accent. He becomes weak and anaemic, and loses his appetite. There is +often albuminuria. Leucocytosis is usually well marked before the +injection of antitoxin; after the injection there is usually a +diminution in the number of leucocytes. The false membrane may separate +and be cast off, after which the patient gradually recovers. Death may +take place from gradual failure of the heart's action or from syncope +during some slight exertion. + +_Laryngeal Diphtheria._--The disease may arise in the larynx, although, +as a rule, it spreads thence from the pharynx. It first manifests itself +by a short, dry, croupy cough, and hoarseness of the voice. The first +difficulty in breathing usually takes place during the night, and once +it begins, it rapidly gets worse. Inspiration becomes noisy, sometimes +stridulous or metallic or sibilant, and there is marked indrawing of the +epigastrium and lower intercostal spaces. The hoarseness becomes more +marked, the cough more severe, and the patient restless. The difficulty +of breathing occurs in paroxysms, which gradually increase in frequency +and severity, until at length the patient becomes asphyxiated. The +duration of the disease varies from a few hours to four or five days. + +After the acute symptoms have passed off, various localised +paralyses may develop, affecting particularly the nerves of the palatal +and orbital muscles, less frequently the lower limbs. + +#Diagnosis.#--The finding of the Klebs-Loffler bacillus is the only +conclusive evidence of the disease. The bacillus may be obtained by +swabbing the throat with a piece of aseptic--not antiseptic--cotton wool +or clean linen rag held in a pair of forceps, and rotated so as to +entangle portions of the false membrane or exudate. The swab thus +obtained is placed in a test-tube, previously sterilised by having had +some water boiled in it, and sent to a laboratory for investigation. To +identify the bacillus a piece of the membrane from the swab is rubbed on +a cover glass, dried, and stained with methylene blue or other basic +stain; or cultures may be made on agar or other suitable medium. When a +bacteriological examination is impossible, or when the clinical features +do not coincide with the results obtained, the patient should always be +treated on the assumption that he suffers from diphtheria. So much doubt +exists as to the real nature of membranous croup and its relationship to +true diphtheria, that when the diagnosis between the two is uncertain +the safest plan is to treat the case as one of diphtheria. + +In children, diphtheria may occur on the vulva, vagina, prepuce, or +glans penis, and give rise to difficulty in diagnosis, which is only +cleared up by demonstration of the bacillus. + +#Treatment.#--An attempt may be made to destroy or to counteract the +organisms by swabbing the throat with strong antiseptic solutions, such +as 1 in 1000 corrosive sublimate or 1 in 30 carbolic acid, or by +spraying with peroxide of hydrogen. + +The antitoxic serum is our sheet-anchor in the treatment of diphtheria, +and recourse should be had to its use as early as possible. + +Difficulty of swallowing may be met by the use of a stomach tube passed +either through the mouth or nose. When this is impracticable, nutrient +enemata are called for. + +In laryngeal diphtheria, the interference with respiration may call for +intubation of the larynx, or tracheotomy, but the antitoxin treatment +has greatly diminished the number of cases in which it becomes necessary +to have recourse to these measures. + +Intubation consists in introducing through the mouth into the larynx a +tube which allows the patient to breathe freely during the period while +the membrane is becoming separated and thrown off. This is best done +with the apparatus of O'Dwyer; but when this instrument is not +available, a simple gum-elastic catheter with a terminal opening (as +suggested by Macewen and Annandale) may be employed. + +When intubation is impracticable, the operation of tracheotomy is +called for if the patient's life is endangered by embarrassment of +respiration. Unless the patient is in hospital with skilled assistance +available, tracheotomy is the safer of the two procedures. + + +TETANUS + +Tetanus is a disease resulting from infection of a wound by a specific +micro-organism, the _bacillus tetani_, and characterised by increased +reflex excitability, hypertonus, and spasm of one or more groups of +voluntary muscles. + +_Etiology and Morbid Anatomy._--The tetanus bacillus, which is a perfect +anaerobe, is widely distributed in nature and can be isolated from +garden earth, dung-heaps, and stable refuse. It is a slender rod-shaped +bacillus, with a single large spore at one end giving it the shape of a +drum-stick (Fig. 26). The spores, which are the active agents in +producing tetanus, are highly resistant to chemical agents, retain their +vitality in a dry condition, and even survive boiling for five minutes. + +The organism does not readily establish itself in the human body, and +seems to flourish best when it finds a nidus in necrotic tissue and is +accompanied by aerobic organisms, which, by using up the oxygen in the +tissues, provide for it a suitable environment. The presence of a +foreign body in the wound seems to favour its action. The infection is +for all practical purposes a local one, the symptoms of the disease +being due to the toxins produced in the wound of infection acting upon +the central nervous system. + +The toxin acts principally on the nerve centres in the spinal medulla, +to which it travels from the focus of infection by way of the nerve +fibres supplying the voluntary muscles. Its first effect on the motor +ganglia of the cord is to render them hypersensitive, so that they are +excited by mild stimuli, which under ordinary conditions would produce +no reaction. As the toxin accumulates the reflex arc is affected, with +the result that when a stimulus reaches the ganglia a motor discharge +takes place, which spreads by ascending and descending collaterals to +the reflex apparatus of the whole cord. As the toxin spreads it causes +both motor hyper-tonus and hyper-excitability, which accounts for the +tonic contraction and the clonic spasms characteristic of tetanus. + +[Illustration: FIG. 26.--Bacillus of Tetanus from scraping of a wound of +finger, x 1000 diam. Basic fuchsin stain.] + +#Clinical Varieties of Tetanus.#--_Acute_ or _Fulminating +Tetanus_.--This variety is characterised by the shortness of the +incubation period, the rapidity of its progress, the severity of its +symptoms, and its all but universally fatal issue in spite of +treatment, death taking place in from one to four days. The +characteristic symptoms may appear within three or four days of the +infliction of the wound, but the incubation period may extend to three +weeks, and the wound may be quite healed before the disease declares +itself--_delayed tetanus_. Usually, however, the wound is inflamed and +suppurating, with ragged and sloughy edges. A slight feverish attack may +mark the onset of the tetanic condition, or the patient may feel +perfectly well until the spasms begin. If careful observations be made, +it may be found that the muscles in the immediate neighbourhood of the +wound are the first to become contracted; but in the majority of +instances the patient's first complaint is of pain and stiffness in the +muscles of mastication, notably the masseter, so that he has difficulty +in opening the mouth--hence the popular name "lock-jaw." The muscles of +expression soon share in the rigidity, and the face assumes a taut, +mask-like aspect. The angles of the mouth may be retracted, producing a +grinning expression known as the _risus sardonicus_. + +The next muscles to become stiff and painful are those of the neck, +especially the sterno-mastoid and trapezius. The patient is inclined to +attribute the pain and stiffness to exposure to cold or rheumatism. At +an early stage the diaphragm and the muscles of the anterior abdominal +wall become contracted; later the muscles of the back and thorax are +involved; and lastly those of the limbs. Although this is the typical +order of involvement of the different groups of muscles, it is not +always adhered to. + +To this permanent tonic contraction of the muscles there are soon added +clonic spasms. These spasms are at first slight and transient, with +prolonged intervals between the attacks, but rapidly tend to become more +frequent, more severe, and of longer duration, until eventually the +patient simply passes out of one seizure into another. + +The distribution of the spasms varies in different cases: in some it is +confined to particular groups of muscles, such as those of the neck, +back, abdominal walls, or limbs; in others all these groups are +simultaneously involved. + +When the muscles of the back become spasmodically contracted, the body +is raised from the bed, sometimes to such an extent that the patient +rests only on his heels and occiput--the position of _opisthotonos_. +Lateral arching of the body from excessive action of the muscles on one +side--_pleurosthotonos_--is not uncommon, the arching usually taking +place towards the side on which the wound of infection exists. Less +frequently the body is bent forward so that the knees and chin almost +meet (_emprosthotonos_). Sometimes all the muscles simultaneously become +rigid, so that the body assumes a statuesque attitude (_orthotonos_). +When the thoracic muscles, including the diaphragm, are thrown into +spasm, the patient experiences a distressing sensation as if he were +gripped in a vice, and has extreme difficulty in getting breath. Between +the attacks the limbs are kept rigidly extended. The clonic spasms may +be so severe as to rupture muscles or even to fracture one of the long +bones. + +As time goes on, the clonic exacerbations become more and more frequent, +and the slightest external stimulus, such as the feeling of the pulse, a +whisper in the room, a noise in the street, a draught of cold air, the +effort to swallow, a question addressed to the patient or his attempt to +answer, is sufficient to determine an attack. The movements are so +forcible and so continuous that the nurse has great difficulty in +keeping the bedclothes on the patient, or even in keeping him in bed. + +The general condition of the patient is pitiful in the extreme. He is +fully conscious of the gravity of the disease, and his mind remains +clear to the end. The suffering induced by the cramp-like spasms of the +muscles keeps him in a constant state of fearful apprehension of the +next seizure, and he is unable to sleep until he becomes utterly +exhausted. + +The temperature is moderately raised (100 to 102 F.), or may remain +normal throughout. Shortly before death very high temperatures (110 F.) +have been recorded, and it has been observed that the thermometer +sometimes continues to rise after death, and may reach as high as +112 F. or more. + +The pulse corresponds with the febrile condition. It is accelerated +during the spasms, and may become exceedingly rapid and feeble before +death, probably from paralysis of the vagus. Sudden death from cardiac +paralysis or from cardiac spasm is not uncommon. + +The respiration is affected in so far as the spasms of the respiratory +muscles produce dyspnoea, and a feeling of impending suffocation which +adds to the horrors of the disease. + +One of the most constant symptoms is a copious perspiration, the patient +being literally bathed in sweat. The urine is diminished in quantity, +but as a rule is normal in composition; as in other acute infective +conditions, albumen and blood may be present. Retention of urine may +result from spasm of the urethral muscles, and necessitate the use of +the catheter. + +The fits may cease some time before death, or, on the other hand, death +may occur during a paroxysm from fixation of the diaphragm and arrest of +respiration. + +_Differential Diagnosis._--There is little difficulty, as a rule, in +diagnosing a case of fulminating tetanus, but there are several +conditions with which it may occasionally be confused. In _strychnin +poisoning_, for example, the spasms come on immediately after the +patient has taken a toxic dose of the drug; they are clonic in +character, but the muscles are relaxed between the fits. If the dose is +not lethal, the spasms soon cease. In _hydrophobia_ a history of having +been bitten by a rabid animal is usually forthcoming; the spasms, which +are clonic in character, affect chiefly the muscles of respiration and +deglutition, and pass off entirely in the intervals between attacks. +Certain cases of _haemorrhage into the lateral ventricles_ of the brain +also simulate tetanus, but an analysis of the symptoms will prevent +errors in diagnosis. _Cerebro-spinal meningitis_ and _basal meningitis_ +present certain superficial resemblances to tetanus, but there is no +trismus, and the spasms chiefly affect the muscles of the neck and +back. _Hysteria and catalepsy_ may assume characters resembling those +of tetanus, but there is little difficulty in distinguishing between +these diseases. Lastly, in the _tetany_ of children, or that following +operations on the thyreoid gland, the spasms are of a jerking character, +affect chiefly the hands and fingers, and yield to medicinal treatment. + +#Chronic Tetanus.#--The difference between this and acute tetanus is +mainly one of degree. Its incubation period is longer, it is more slow +and insidious in its progress, and it never reaches the same degree of +severity. Trismus is the most marked and constant form of spasm; and +while the trunk muscles may be involved, those of respiration as a rule +escape. Every additional day the patient lives adds to the probability +of his ultimate recovery. When the disease does prove fatal, it is from +exhaustion, and not from respiratory or cardiac spasm. The usual +duration is from six to ten weeks. + +#Delayed Tetanus.#--During the European War acute tetanus occasionally +developed many weeks or even months after a patient had been injured, +and when the original wound had completely healed. It usually followed +some secondary operation, _e.g._, for the removal of a foreign body, or +the breaking down of adhesions, which aroused latent organisms. + +#Local Tetanus.#--This term is applied to a form of the disease in which +the hypertonus and spasms are localised to the muscles in the vicinity +of the wound. It usually occurs in patients who have had prophylactic +injections of anti-tetanic serum, the toxins entering the blood being +probably neutralised by the antibodies in circulation, while those +passing along the motor nerves are unaffected. + +When it occurs in the _limbs_, attention is usually directed to the fact +by pain accompanying the spasms; the muscles are found to be hard and +there are frequent twitchings of the limb. A characteristic reflex is +present in the lower extremity, namely, extension of the foot and leg +when the sole is tickled. + +_Cephalic Tetanus_ is another localised variety which follows injury in +the distribution of the facial nerve. It is characterised by the +occurrence on the same side as the injury, of facial spasm, rapidly +followed by more or less complete paralysis of the muscles of +expression, with unilateral trismus and difficulty in swallowing. Other +cranial nerves, particularly the oculomotor and the hypoglossal, may +also be implicated. A remarkable feature of this condition is that +although the muscles are irresponsive to ordinary physiological stimuli, +they are thrown into spasm by the abnormal impulses of tetanus. + +_Trismus._--This term is used to denote a form of tetanic spasm limited +to the muscles of mastication. It is really a mild form of chronic +tetanus, and the prognosis is favourable. It must not be confused with +the fixation of the jaw sometimes associated with a wisdom-tooth +gumboil, with tonsillitis, or with affections of the temporo-mandibular +articulation. + +_Tetanus neonatorum_ is a form of tetanus occurring in infants of about +a week old. Infection takes place through the umbilicus, and manifests +itself clinically by spasms of the muscles of mastication. It is almost +invariably fatal within a few days. + +_Prophylaxis._--Experience in the European War has established the +fact that the routine injection of anti-tetanic serum to all patients +with lacerated and contaminated wounds greatly reduces the frequency of +tetanus. The sooner the serum is given after the injury, the more +certain is its effect; within twenty-four hours 1500 units injected +subcutaneously is sufficient for the initial dose; if a longer period +has elapsed, 2000 to 3000 units should be given intra-muscularly, as +this ensures more rapid absorption. A second injection is given a week +after the first. + +The wound must be purified in the usual way, and all instruments and +appliances used for operations on tetanic patients must be immediately +sterilised by prolonged boiling. + +_Treatment._--When tetanus has developed the main indications are to +prevent the further production of toxins in the wound, and to neutralise +those that have been absorbed into the nervous system. Thorough +purification with antiseptics, excision of devitalised tissues, and +drainage of the wound are first carried out. To arrest the absorption of +toxins intra-muscular injections of 10,000 units of serum are given +daily into the muscles of the affected limb, or directly into the nerve +trunks leading from the focus of infection, in the hope of "blocking" +the nerves with antitoxin and so preventing the passage of toxins +towards the spinal cord. + +To neutralise the toxins that have already reached the spinal cord, 5000 +units should be injected intra-thecally daily for four or five days, the +foot of the bed being raised to enable the serum to reach the upper +parts of the cord. + +The quantity of toxin circulating in the blood is so small as to be +practically negligible, and the risk of anaphylactic shock attending +intra-venous injection outweighs any benefit likely to follow this +procedure. + +Baccelli recommends the injection of 20 c.c. of a 1 in 100 solution of +carbolic acid into the subcutaneous tissues every four hours during the +period that the contractions persist. Opinions vary as to the +efficiency of this treatment. The intra-thecal injection of 10 c.c. of a +15 per cent. solution of magnesium sulphate has proved beneficial in +alleviating the severity of the spasms, but does not appear to have a +curative effect. + +To conserve the patient's strength by preventing or diminishing the +severity of the spasms, he should be placed in a quiet room, and every +form of disturbance avoided. Sedatives, such as bromides, paraldehyde, +or opium, must be given in large doses. Chloral is perhaps the best, and +the patient should rarely have less than 150 grains in twenty-four +hours. When he is unable to swallow, it should be given by the rectum. +The administration of chloroform is of value in conserving the strength +of the patient, by abolishing the spasms, and enabling the attendants to +administer nourishment or drugs either through a stomach tube or by the +rectum. Extreme elevation of temperature is met by tepid sponging. It is +necessary to use the catheter if retention of urine occurs. + + +HYDROPHOBIA + +Hydrophobia is an acute infective disease following on the bite of a +rabid animal. It most commonly follows the bite or lick of a rabid dog +or cat. The virus appears to be communicated through the saliva of the +animal, and to show a marked affinity for nerve tissues; and the disease +is most likely to develop when the patient is infected on the face or +other uncovered part, or in a part richly endowed with nerves. + +A dog which has bitten a person should on no account be killed until its +condition has been proved one way or the other. Should rabies develop +and its destruction become necessary, the head and spinal cord should be +retained and forwarded, packed in ice, to a competent observer. Much +anxiety to the person bitten and to his friends would be avoided if +these rules were observed, because in many cases it will be shown that +the animal did not after all suffer from rabies, and that the patient +consequently runs no risk. If, on the other hand, rabies is proved to be +present, the patient should be submitted to the Pasteur treatment. + +_Clinical Features._--There is almost always a history of the patient +having been bitten or licked by an animal supposed to suffer from +rabies. The incubation period averages about forty days, but varies from +a fortnight to seven or eight months, and is shorter in young than in +old persons. The original wound has long since healed, and beyond a +slight itchiness or pain shooting along the nerves of the part, shows no +sign of disturbance. A few days of general malaise, with chills and +giddiness precede the onset of the acute manifestations, which affect +chiefly the muscles of deglutition and respiration. One of the earliest +signs is that the patient has periodically a sudden catch in his +breathing "resembling what often occurs when a person goes into a cold +bath." This is due to spasm of the diaphragm, and is frequently +accompanied by a loud-sounding hiccough, likened by the laity to the +barking of a dog. Difficulty in swallowing fluids may be the first +symptom. + +The spasms rapidly spread to all the muscles of deglutition and +respiration, so that the patient not only has the greatest difficulty in +swallowing, but has a constant sense of impending suffocation. To add to +his distress, a copious secretion of viscid saliva fills his mouth. Any +voluntary effort, as well as all forms of external stimuli, only serve +to aggravate the spasms which are always induced by the attempt to +swallow fluid, or even by the sound of running water. + +The temperature is raised; the pulse is small, rapid, and intermittent; +and the urine may contain sugar and albumen. + +The mind may remain clear to the end, or the patient may have delusions, +supposing himself to be surrounded by terrifying forms. There is always +extreme mental agitation and despair, and the sufferer is in constant +fear of his impending fate. Happily the inevitable issue is not long +delayed, death usually occurring in from two to four days from the +onset. The symptoms of the disease are so characteristic that there is +no difficulty in diagnosis. The only condition with which it is liable +to be confused is the variety of cephalic tetanus in which the muscles +of deglutition are specially involved--the so-called tetanus +hydrophobicus. + +_Prophylaxis._--The bite of an animal suspected of being rabid should be +cauterised at once by means of the actual or Paquelin cautery, or by a +strong chemical escharotic such as pure carbolic acid, after which +antiseptic dressings are applied. + +It is, however, to Pasteur's _preventive inoculation_ that we must look +for our best hope of averting the onset of symptoms. "It may now be +taken as established that a grave responsibility rests on those +concerned if a person bitten by a mad animal is not subjected to the +Pasteur treatment" (Muir and Ritchie). + +This method is based on the fact that the long incubation period of the +disease admits of the patient being inoculated with a modified virus +producing a mild attack, which protects him from the natural disease. + +_Treatment._--When the symptoms have once developed they can only be +palliated. The patient must be kept absolutely quiet and free from all +sources of irritation. The spasms may be diminished by means of chloral +and bromides, or by chloroform inhalation. + + +ANTHRAX + +Anthrax is a comparatively rare disease, communicable to man from +certain of the lower animals, such as sheep, oxen, horses, deer, and +other herbivora. In animals it is characterised by symptoms of acute +general poisoning, and, from the fact that it produces a marked +enlargement of the spleen, is known in veterinary surgery as "splenic +fever." + +The _bacillus anthracis_ (Fig. 27), the largest of the known pathogenic +bacteria, occurs in groups or in chains made up of numerous bacilli, +each bacillus measuring from 6 to 8 [micron] in length. The organisms +are found in enormous numbers throughout the bodies of animals that have +died of anthrax, and are readily recognised and cultivated. Sporulation +only takes place outside the body, probably because free oxygen is +necessary to the process. In the spore-free condition, the organisms +are readily destroyed by ordinary germicides, and by the gastric juice. +The spores, on the other hand, have a high degree of resistance. Not +only do they remain viable in the dry state for long periods, even up to +a year, but they survive boiling for five minutes, and must be subjected +to dry heat at 140 C. for several hours before they are destroyed. + +[Illustration: FIG. 27.--Bacillus of Anthrax in section of skin, from a +case of malignant pustule; shows vesicle containing bacilli. x 400 diam. +Gram's stain.] + +_Clinical Varieties of Anthrax._--In man, anthrax may manifest itself in +one of three clinical forms. + +It may be transmitted by means of spores or bacilli directly from a +diseased animal to those who, by their occupation or otherwise, are +brought into contact with it--for example, shepherds, butchers, +veterinary surgeons, or hide-porters. Infection may occur on the face by +the use of a shaving-brush contaminated by spores. The path of infection +is usually through an abrasion of the skin, and the primary +manifestations are local, constituting what is known as _the malignant +pustule_. + +In other cases the disease is contracted through the inhalation of the +dried spores into the respiratory passages. This occurs oftenest in +those who work amongst wool, fur, and rags, and a form of acute +pneumonia of great virulence ensues. This affection is known as +_wool-sorter's disease_, and is almost universally fatal. + +There is reason to believe that infection may also take place by means +of spores ingested into the alimentary canal in meat or milk derived +from diseased animals, or in infected water. + +#Clinical Features of Malignant Pustule.#--We shall here confine +ourselves to the consideration of the local lesion as it occurs in the +skin--_the malignant pustule_. + +The point of infection is usually on an uncovered part of the body, such +as the face, hands, arms, or back of the neck, and the wound may be +exceedingly minute. After an incubation period varying from a few hours +to several days, a reddish nodule resembling a small boil appears at the +seat of inoculation, the immediately surrounding skin becomes swollen +and indurated, and over the indurated area there appear a number of +small vesicles containing serum, which at first is clear but soon +becomes blood-stained (Fig. 28). Coincidently the subcutaneous tissue +for a considerable distance around becomes markedly oedematous, and the +skin red and tense. Within a few hours, blood is extravasated in the +centre of the indurated area, the blisters burst, and a dark brown or +black eschar, composed of necrosed skin and subcutaneous tissue and +altered blood, forms (Fig. 29). Meanwhile the induration extends, fresh +vesicles form and in turn burst, and the eschar increases in size. The +neighbouring lymph glands soon become swollen and tender. The affected +part is hot and itchy, but the patient does not complain of great pain. +There is a moderate degree of constitutional disturbance, with headache, +nausea, and sometimes shivering. + +If the infection becomes generalised--_anthracaemia_--the temperature +rises to 103 or 104 F., the pulse becomes feeble and rapid, and other +signs of severe blood-poisoning appear: vomiting, diarrhoea, pains in the +limbs, headache and delirium, and the condition proves fatal in from +five to eight days. + +_Differential Diagnosis._--When the malignant pustule is fully +developed, the central slough with the surrounding vesicles and the +widespread oedema are characteristic. The bacillus can be obtained from +the peripheral portion of the slough, from the blisters, and from the +adjacent lymph vessels and glands. The occupation of the patient may +suggest the possibility of anthrax infection. + +[Illustration: FIG. 28.--Malignant Pustule, third day after infection +with Anthrax, showing great oedema of upper extremity and pectoral region +(cf. Fig. 29).] + +[Illustration: FIG. 29.--Malignant Pustule, fourteen days after +infection, showing black eschar in process of separation. The oedema has +largely disappeared. Treated by Sclavo's serum (cf. Fig. 28).] + +_Prophylaxis._--Any wound suspected of being infected with anthrax +should at once be cauterised with caustic potash, the actual cautery, or +pure carbolic acid. + +_Treatment._--The best results hitherto obtained have followed the use +of the anti-anthrax serum introduced by Sclavo. The initial dose is 40 +c.c., and if the serum is given early in the disease, the beneficial +effects are manifest in a few hours. Favourable results have also +followed the use of pyocyanase, a vaccine prepared from the bacillus +pyocyaneus. + +By some it is recommended that the local lesion should be freely +excised; others advocate cauterisation of the affected part with solid +caustic potash till all the indurated area is softened. Graf has had +excellent results by the latter method in a large series of cases, the +oedema subsiding in about twenty-four hours and the constitutional +symptoms rapidly improving. Wolff and Wiewiorowski, on the other hand, +have had equally good results by simply protecting the local lesion with +a mild antiseptic dressing, and relying upon general treatment. + +The general treatment consists in feeding and stimulating the patient as +freely as possible. Quinine, in 5 to 10 grain doses every four hours, +and powdered ipecacuanha, in 40 to 60 grain doses every four hours, have +also been employed with apparent benefit. + + +GLANDERS + +Glanders is due to the action of a specific bacterium, the _bacillus +mallei_, which resembles the tubercle bacillus, save that it is somewhat +shorter and broader, and does not stain by Gram's method. It requires +higher temperatures for its cultivation than the tubercle bacillus, and +its growth on potato is of a characteristic chocolate-brown colour, with +a greenish-yellow ring at the margin of the growth. The bacillus mallei +retains its vitality for long periods under ordinary conditions, but is +readily killed by heat and chemical agents. It does not form spores. + +_Clinical Features._--Both in the lower animals and in man the bacillus +gives rise to two distinct types of disease--_acute glanders_, and +_chronic glanders_ or _farcy_. + +Acute Glanders is most commonly met with in the horse and in other +equine animals, horned cattle being immune. It affects the septum of the +nose and adjacent parts, firm, translucent, greyish nodules containing +lymphoid and epithelioid cells appearing in the mucous membrane. These +nodules subsequently break down in the centre, forming irregular +ulcers, which are attended with profuse discharge, and marked +inflammatory swelling. The cervical lymph glands, as well as the lungs, +spleen, and liver, may be the seat of secondary nodules. + +_In man_, acute glanders is commoner than the chronic variety. Infection +always takes place through an abraded surface, and usually on one of the +uncovered parts of the body--most commonly the skin of the hands, arms, +or face; or on the mucous membrane of the mouth, nose, or eye. The +disease has been acquired by accidental inoculation in the course of +experimental investigations in the laboratory, and proved fatal. The +incubation period is from three to five days. + +The _local_ manifestations are pain and swelling in the region of the +infected wound, with inflammatory redness around it and along the lines +of the superficial lymphatics. In the course of a week, small, firm +nodules appear, and are rapidly transformed into pustules. These may +occur on the face and in the vicinity of joints, and may be mistaken for +the eruption of small-pox. + +After breaking down, these pustules give rise to irregular ulcers, which +by their confluence lead to extensive destruction of skin. Sometimes the +nasal mucous membrane becomes affected, and produces a discharge--at +first watery, but later sanious and purulent. Necrosis of the bones of +the nose may take place, in which case the discharge becomes peculiarly +offensive. In nearly every case metastatic abscesses form in different +parts of the body, such as the lungs, joints, or muscles. + +During the development of the disease the patient feels ill, complains +of headache and pains in the limbs, the temperature rises to 104 or +even to 106 F., and assumes a pyaemic type. The pulse becomes rapid and +weak. The tongue is dry and brown. There is profuse sweating, +albuminuria, and often insomnia with delirium. Death may take place +within a week, but more frequently occurs during the second or third +week. + +_Differential Diagnosis._--There is nothing characteristic in the site +of the primary lesion in man, and the condition may, during the early +stages, be mistaken for a boil or carbuncle, or for any acute +inflammatory condition. Later, the disease may simulate acute articular +rheumatism, or may manifest all the symptoms of acute septicaemia or +pyaemia. The diagnosis is established by the recognition of the bacillus. +Veterinary surgeons attach great importance to the mallein test as a +means of diagnosis in animals, but in the human subject its use is +attended with considerable risk and is not to be recommended. + +_Treatment._--Excision of the primary nodule, followed by the +application of the thermo-cautery and sponging with pure carbolic acid, +should be carried out, provided the condition is sufficiently limited to +render complete removal practicable. + +When secondary abscesses form in accessible situations, they must be +incised, disinfected, and drained. The general treatment is carried out +on the same lines as in other acute infective diseases. + +#Chronic Glanders.#--_In the horse_ the chronic form of glanders is +known as _farcy_, and follows infection through an abrasion of the skin, +involving chiefly the superficial lymph vessels and glands. The +lymphatics become indurated and nodular, constituting what veterinarians +call _farcy pipes_ and _farcy buds_. + +_In man_ also the clinical features of the chronic variety of the +disease are somewhat different from those of the acute form. Here, too, +infection takes place through a broken cutaneous surface, and leads to a +superficial lymphangitis with nodular thickening of the lymphatics +(_farcy buds_). The neighbouring glands soon become swollen and +indurated. The primary lesion meanwhile inflames, suppurates, and, after +breaking down, leaves a large, irregular ulcer with thickened edges and +a foul, purulent or bloody discharge. The glands break down in the same +way, and lead to wide destruction of skin, and the resulting sinuses and +ulcers are exceedingly intractable. Secondary deposits in the +subcutaneous tissue, the muscles, and other parts, are not uncommon, and +the nasal mucous membrane may become involved. The disease often runs a +chronic course, extending to four or five months, or even longer. +Recovery takes place in about 50 per cent. of cases, but the +convalescence is prolonged, and at any time the disease may assume the +characters of the acute variety and speedily prove fatal. + +The _differential diagnosis_ is often difficult, especially in the +chronic nodules, in which it may be impossible to demonstrate the +bacillus. The ulcerated lesions of farcy have to be distinguished from +those of tubercle, syphilis, and other forms of infective granuloma. + +_Treatment._--Limited areas of disease should be completely excised. The +general condition of the patient must be improved by tonics, good food, +and favourable hygienic surroundings. In some cases potassium iodide +acts beneficially. + + +ACTINOMYCOSIS + +Actinomycosis is a chronic disease due to the action of an organism +somewhat higher in the vegetable scale than ordinary bacteria--the +_streptothrix actinomyces_ or _ray fungus_. + +[Illustration: FIG. 30.--Section of Actinomycosis Colony in Pus from +Abscess of Liver, showing filaments and clubs of streptothrix +actinomyces. x 400 diam. Gram's stain.] + +_Etiology and Morbid Anatomy._--The actinomyces, which has never been +met with outside the body, gives rise in oxen, horses, and other animals +to tumour-like masses composed of granulation tissue; and in man to +chronic suppurative processes which may result in a condition resembling +chronic pyaemia. The actinomyces is more complex in structure than other +pathogenic organisms, and occurs in the tissues in the form of small, +round, semi-translucent bodies, about the size of a pin-head or less, +and consisting of colonies of the fungus. On account of their yellow +tint they are spoken of as "sulphur grains." Each colony is made up of a +series of thin, interlacing, and branching _filaments_, some of which +are broken up so as to form masses or chains of _cocci_; and around the +periphery of the colony are elongated, pear-shaped, hyaline, _club-like +bodies_ (Fig. 30). + +Infection is believed to be conveyed by the husks of cereals, especially +barley; and the organism has been found adhering to particles of grain +embedded in the tissues of animals suffering from the disease. In the +human subject there is often a history of exposure to infection from +such sources, and the disease is said to be most common during the +harvesting months. + +Around each colony of actinomyces is a zone of granulation tissue in +which suppuration usually occurs, so that the fungus comes to lie in a +bath of greenish-yellow pus. As the process spreads these purulent foci +become confluent and form abscess cavities. When metastasis takes place, +as it occasionally does, the fungus is transmitted by the blood vessels, +as in pyaemia. + +_Clinical features._--In man the disease may be met with in the skin, +the organisms gaining access through an abrasion, and spreading by the +formation of new nodules in the same way as tuberculosis. + +The region of the mouth and jaws is one of the commonest sites of +surgical actinomycosis. Infection takes place, as a rule, along the side +of a carious tooth, and spreads to the lower jaw. A swelling is slowly +and insidiously developed, but when the loose connective tissue of the +neck becomes infiltrated, the spread is more rapid. The whole region +becomes infiltrated and swollen, and the skin ultimately gives way and +free suppuration occurs, resulting in the formation of sinuses. The +characteristic greenish-grey or yellow granules are seen in the pus, and +when examined microscopically reveal the colonies of actinomyces. + +Less frequently the maxilla becomes affected, and the disease may spread +to the base of the skull and brain. The vertebrae may become involved by +infection taking place through the pharynx or oesophagus, and leading to +a condition simulating tuberculous disease of the spine. When it +implicates the intestinal canal and its accessory glands, the lungs, +pleura, and bronchial tubes, or the brain, the disease is not amenable +to surgical treatment. + +_Differential Diagnosis._--The conditions likely to be mistaken for +surgical actinomycosis are sarcoma, tubercle, and syphilis. In the early +stages the differential diagnosis is exceedingly difficult. In many +cases it is only possible when suppuration has occurred and the fungus +can be demonstrated. + +The slow destruction of the affected tissue by suppuration, the absence +of pain, tenderness, and redness, simulate tuberculosis, but the absence +of glandular involvement helps to distinguish it. + +Syphilitic lesions are liable to be mistaken for actinomycosis, all the +more that in both diseases improvement follows the administration of +iodides. When it affects the lower jaw, in its early stages, +actinomycosis may closely simulate a periosteal sarcoma. + +[Illustration: FIG. 31.--Actinomycosis of Maxilla. The disease spread to +opposite side; finally implicated base of skull, and proved fatal. +Treated by radium. + +(Mr. D. P. D. Wilkie's case.)] + +The recognition of the fungus is the crucial point in diagnosis. + +_Prognosis._--Spontaneous cure rarely occurs. When the disease +implicates internal organs, it is almost always fatal. On external parts +the destructive process gradually spreads, and the patient eventually +succumbs to superadded septic infection. When, from its situation, the +primary focus admits of removal, the prognosis is more favourable. + +_Treatment._--The surgical treatment is early and free removal of the +affected tissues, after which the wound is cauterised by the actual +cautery, and sponged over with pure carbolic acid. The cavity is packed +with iodoform gauze, no attempt being made to close the wound. + +Success has attended the use of a vaccine prepared from cultures of the +organism; and the X-rays and radium, combined with the administration of +iodides in large doses, or with intra-muscular injections of a 10 per +cent. solution of cacodylate of soda, have proved of benefit. + +MYCETOMA, OR MADURA FOOT.--Mycetoma is a chronic disease due to +an organism resembling that of actinomycosis, but not identical with it. +It is endemic in certain tropical countries, and is most frequently met +with in India. Infection takes place through an abrasion of the skin, +and the disease usually occurs on the feet of adult males who work +barefooted in the fields. + +_Clinical Features._--The disease begins on the foot as an indurated +patch, which becomes discoloured and permeated by black or yellow +nodules containing the organism. These nodules break down by +suppuration, and numerous minute abscesses lined by granulation tissues +are thus formed. In the pus are found yellow particles likened to +fish-roe, or black pigmented granules like gunpowder. Sinuses form, and +the whole foot becomes greatly swollen and distorted by flattening of +the sole and dorsiflexion of the toes. Areas of caries or necrosis occur +in the bones, and the disease gradually extends up the leg (Fig. 32). +There is but little pain, and no glandular involvement or constitutional +disturbance. The disease runs a prolonged course, sometimes lasting for +twenty or thirty years. Spontaneous cure never takes place, and the risk +to life is that of prolonged suppuration. + +If the disease is localised, it may be removed by the knife or sharp +spoon, and the part afterwards cauterised. As a rule, amputation well +above the disease is the best line of treatment. Unlike actinomycosis, +this disease does not appear to be benefited by iodides. + +[Illustration: FIG. 32.--Mycetoma, or Madura Foot. (Museum of Royal +College of Surgeons, Edinburgh.)] + +DELHI BOIL.--_Synonyms_--Aleppo boil, Biskra button, Furunculus +orientalis, Natal sore. + +Delhi boil is a chronic inflammatory disease, most commonly met with in +India, especially towards the end of the wet season. The disease occurs +oftenest on the face, and is believed to be due to an organism, although +this has not been demonstrated. The infection is supposed to be conveyed +through water used for washing, or by the bites of insects. + +_Clinical Features._--A red spot, resembling the mark of a mosquito +bite, appears on the affected part, and is attended with itching. After +becoming papular and increasing to the size of a pea, desquamation takes +place, leaving a dull-red surface, over which in the course of several +weeks there develops a series of small yellowish-white spots, from which +serum exudes, and, drying, forms a thick scab. Under this scab the skin +ulcerates, leaving small oval sores with sharply bevelled edges, and an +uneven floor covered with yellow or sanious pus. These sores vary in +number from one to forty or fifty. They may last for months and then +heal spontaneously, or may continue to spread until arrested by suitable +treatment. There is no enlargement of adjacent glands, and but little +inflammatory reaction in the surrounding tissues; nor is there any +marked constitutional disturbance. Recovery is often followed by +cicatricial contraction leading to deformity of the face. + +The _treatment_ consists in destroying the original papule by the actual +cautery, acid nitrate of mercury, or pure carbolic acid. The ulcers +should be scraped with the sharp spoon, and cauterised. + +CHIGOE.--Chigoe or jigger results from the introduction of the +eggs of the sand-flea (_Pulex penetrans_) into the tissues. It occurs in +tropical Africa, South America, and the West Indies. The impregnated +female flea remains attached to the part till the eggs mature, when by +their irritation they cause localised inflammation with pustules or +vesicles on the surface. Children are most commonly attacked, +particularly about the toe-nails and on the scrotum. The treatment +consists in picking out the insect with a blunt needle, special care +being taken not to break it up. The puncture is then cauterised. The +application of essential oils to the feet acts as a preventive. + +POISONING BY INSECTS.--The bites of certain insects, such as +mosquitoes, midges, different varieties of flies, wasps, and spiders, +may be followed by serious complications. The effects are mainly due to +the injection of an irritant acid secretion, the exact nature of which +has not been ascertained. + +The local lesion is a puncture, surrounded by a zone of hyperaemia, +wheals, or vesicles, and is associated with burning sensations and +itching which usually pass off in a few hours, but may recur at +intervals, especially when the patient is warm in bed. Scratching also +reproduces the local signs and symptoms. Where the connective tissue is +loose--for example, in the eyelid or scrotum--there is often +considerable swelling; and in the mouth and fauces this may lead to +oedema of the glottis, which may prove fatal. + +The _treatment_ consists in the local application of dilute alkalies +such as ammonia water, solutions of carbonate or bicarbonate of soda, or +sal-volatile. Weak carbolic lotions, or lead and opium lotion, are +useful in allaying the local irritation. One of the best means of +neutralising the poison is to apply to the sting a drop of a mixture +containing equal parts of pure carbolic acid and liquor ammoniae. + +Free stimulation is called for when severe constitutional symptoms are +present. + +SNAKE-BITES.--We are here only concerned with the injuries +inflicted by the venomous varieties of snakes, the most important of +which are the hooded snakes of India, the rattle-snakes of America, the +horned snakes of Africa, the viper of Europe, and the adder of the +United Kingdom. + +While the virulence of these creatures varies widely, they are all +capable of producing in a greater or less degree symptoms of acute +poisoning in man and other animals. By means of two recurved fangs +attached to the upper jaw, and connected by a duct with poison-secreting +glands, they introduce into their prey a thick, transparent, yellowish +fluid, of acid reaction, probably of the nature of an albumose, and +known as the _venom_. + +The _clinical features_ resulting from the injection of the venom vary +directly in intensity with the amount of the poison introduced, and the +rapidity with which it reaches the circulating blood, being most marked +when it immediately enters a large vein. The poison is innocuous when +taken into the stomach. + +_Locally_ the snake inflicts a double wound, passing vertically into the +subcutaneous tissue; the edges of the punctures are ecchymosed, and the +adjacent vessels the seat of thrombosis. Immediately there is intense +pain, and considerable swelling with congestion, which tends to spread +towards the trunk. Extensive gangrene may ensue. There is no special +involvement of the lymphatics. + +The _general symptoms_ may come on at once if the snake is a +particularly venomous one, or not for some hours if less virulent. In +the majority of viper or adder bites the constitutional disturbance is +slight and transient, if it appears at all. Snake-bites in children are +particularly dangerous. + +The patient's condition is one of profound shock with faintness, +giddiness, dimness of sight, and a feeling of great terror. The pupils +dilate, the skin becomes moist with a clammy sweat, and nausea with +vomiting, sometimes of blood, ensues. High fever, cramps, loss of +sensation, haematuria, and melaena are among the other symptoms that may +be present. The pulse becomes feeble and rapid, the respiratory nerve +centres are profoundly depressed, and delirium followed by coma usually +precedes the fatal issue, which may take place in from five to +forty-eight hours. If the patient survives for two days the prognosis is +favourable. + +_Treatment._--A broad ligature should be tied tightly round the limb +above the seat of infection, to prevent the poison passing into the +general circulation, and bleeding from the wound should be encouraged. +The application of an elastic bandage from above downward to empty the +blood out of the infected portion of the limb has been recommended. The +whole of the bite should at once be excised, and crystals of +permanganate of potash rubbed into the wound until it is black, or +peroxide of hydrogen applied with the object of destroying the poison by +oxidation. + +The general treatment consists in free stimulation with whisky, brandy, +ammonia, digitalis, etc. Hypodermic injections of strychnin in doses +sufficiently large to produce a slight degree of poisoning by the drug +are particularly useful. The most rational treatment, when it is +available, is the use of the _antivenin_ introduced by Fraser and +Calmette. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +TUBERCULOSIS + + +Tubercle bacillus--Methods of infection--Inherited and acquired + predisposition--Relationship of tuberculosis to injury--Human and + bovine tuberculosis--Action of the bacillus upon the + tissues--Tuberculous granulation tissue--Natural cure--Recrudescence + of the disease--THE TUBERCULOUS ABSCESS--Contents and wall of the + abscess--Tuberculous sinuses. + +Tuberculosis occurs more frequently in some situations than in others; +it is common, for example, in lymph glands, in bones and joints, in the +peritoneum, the intestine, the kidney, prostate and testis, and in the +skin and subcutaneous cellular tissue; it is seldom met with in the +breast or in muscles, and it rarely affects the ovary, the pancreas, the +parotid, or the thyreoid. + +_Tubercle bacilli_ vary widely in their virulence, and they are more +tenacious of life than the common pyogenic bacteria. In a dry state, for +example, they can retain their vitality for months; and they can also +survive immersion in water for prolonged periods. They resist the action +of the products of putrefaction for a considerable time, and are not +destroyed by digestive processes in the stomach and intestine. They may +be killed in a few minutes by boiling, or by exposure to steam under +pressure, or by immersion for less than a minute in 1 in 20 carbolic +lotion. + +#Methods of Infection.#--In marked contrast to what obtains in the +infective diseases that have already been described, tuberculosis rarely +results from the _infection of a wound_. In exceptional instances, +however, this does occur, and in illustration of the fact may be cited +the case of a servant who cut her finger with a broken spittoon +containing the sputum of her consumptive master; the wound subsequently +showed evidence of tuberculous infection, which ultimately spread up +along the lymph vessels of the arm. Pathologists, too, whose hands, +before the days of rubber gloves, were frequently exposed to the contact +of tuberculous tissues and pus, were liable to suffer from a form of +tuberculosis of the skin of the finger, known as _anatomical tubercle_. +Slight wounds of the feet in children who go about barefoot in towns +sometimes become infected with tubercle. Operation wounds made with +instruments contaminated with tuberculous material have also been known +to become infected. It is highly probable that the common form of +tuberculosis of the skin known as "lupus" arises by direct infection +from without. + +[Illustration: FIG. 33.--Tubercle Bacilli in caseous material +x 1000 diam. Z. Neilsen stain.] + +In the vast majority of cases the tubercle bacillus gains entrance to +the body by way of the mucous surfaces, the organisms being either +inhaled or swallowed; those inhaled are mostly derived from the human +subject, those swallowed, from cattle. Bacilli, whether inhaled or +swallowed, are especially apt to lodge about the pharynx and pass to the +pharyngeal lymphoid tissue and tonsils, and by way of the lymph vessels +to the glands. The glands most frequently infected in this way are the +cervical glands, and those within the cavity of the chest--particularly +the bronchial glands at the root of the lung. From these, infection +extends at any later period in life to the bones, joints, and internal +organs. + +There is reason to believe that the organisms may lie in a dormant +condition for an indefinite period in these glands, and only become +active long afterwards, when some depression of the patient's health +produces conditions which favour their growth. When the organisms become +active in this way, the tuberculous tissue undergoes softening and +disintegration, and the infective material, by bursting into an adjacent +vein, may enter the blood-stream, in which it is carried to distant +parts of the body. In this way a _general tuberculosis_ may be set up, +or localised foci of tuberculosis may develop in the tissues in which +the organisms lodge. Many tuberculous patients are to be regarded as +possessing in their bronchial glands, or elsewhere, an internal store of +bacilli, to which the disease for which advice is sought owes its +origin, and from which similar outbreaks of tuberculosis may originate +in the future. + +_The alimentary mucous membrane_, especially that of the lower ileum and +caecum, is exposed to infection by swallowed sputum and by food +materials, such as milk, containing tubercle bacilli. The organisms may +lodge in the mucous membrane and cause tuberculous ulceration, or they +may be carried through the wall of the bowel into the lacteals, along +which they pass to the mesenteric glands where they become arrested and +give rise to tuberculous disease. + +#Relationship of Tuberculosis to Trauma.#--Any tissue whose vitality has +been lowered by injury or disease furnishes a favourable nidus for the +lodgment and growth of tubercle bacilli. The injury or disease, however, +is to be looked upon as determining the _localisation_ of the +tuberculous lesion rather than as an essential factor in its causation. +In a person, for example, in whose blood tubercle bacilli are +circulating and reaching every tissue and organ of the body, the +occurrence of tuberculous disease in a particular part may be determined +by the depression of the tissues resulting from an injury of that part. +There can be no doubt that excessive movement and jarring of a limb +aggravates tuberculous disease of a joint; also that an injury may light +up a focus that has been long quiescent, but we do not agree with +those--Da Costa, for example--who maintain that injury may be a +determining cause of tuberculosis. The question is not one of mere +academic interest, but one that may raise important issues in the law +courts. + +#Human and Bovine Tuberculosis.#--The frequency of the bovine bacillus +in the abdominal and in the glandular and osseous tuberculous lesions of +children would appear to justify the conclusion that the disease is +transmissible from the ox to the human subject, and that the milk of +tuberculous cows is probably a common vehicle of transmission. + +#Changes in the Tissues following upon the successful Lodgment of +Tubercle Bacilli.#--The action of the bacilli on the tissues results in +the formation of granulation tissue comprising characteristic tissue +elements and with a marked tendency to undergo caseation. + +The recognition of the characteristic elements, with or without +caseation, is usually sufficient evidence of the tuberculous nature of +any portion of tissue examined for diagnostic purposes. The recognition +of the bacillus itself by appropriate methods of staining makes the +diagnosis a certainty; but as it is by no means easy to identify the +organism in many forms of surgical tuberculosis, it may be necessary to +have recourse to experimental inoculation of susceptible animals such as +guinea-pigs. + +The changes subsequent to the formation of tuberculous granulation +tissue are liable to many variations. It must always be borne in mind +that although the bacilli have effected a lodgment and have inaugurated +disease, the relation between them and the tissues remains one of mutual +antagonism; which of them is to gain and keep the upper hand in the +conflict depends on their relative powers of resistance. + +If the tissues prevail, there ensues a process of repair. In the +immediate vicinity of the area of infection young connective tissue, and +later, fibrous tissue, is formed. This may replace the tuberculous +tissue and bring about repair--a fibrous cicatrix remaining to mark the +scene of the previous contest. Scars of this nature are frequently +discovered at the apex of the lung after death in persons who have at +one time suffered from pulmonary phthisis. Under other circumstances, +the tuberculous tissue that has undergone caseation, or even +calcification, is only encapsulated by the new fibrous tissue, like a +foreign body. Although this may be regarded as a victory for the +tissues, the cure, if such it may be called, is not necessarily a +permanent one, for at any subsequent period, if the part affected is +disturbed by injury or through some other influence, the encapsulated +tubercle may again become active and get the upper hand of the tissues, +and there results a relapse or recrudescence of the disease. This +_tendency to relapse_ after apparent cure is a notable feature of +tuberculous disease as it is met with in the spine, or in the +hip-joint, and it necessitates a prolonged course of treatment to give +the best chance of a lasting cure. + +If, however, at the inauguration of the tuberculous disease the bacilli +prevail, the infection tends to spread into the tissues surrounding +those originally infected, and more and more tuberculous granulation +tissue is formed. Finally the tuberculous tissue breaks down and +liquefies, resulting in the formation of a cold abscess. In their +struggle with the tissues, tubercle bacilli receive considerable support +and assistance from any pyogenic organisms that may be present. A +tuberculous infection may exhibit its aggressive qualities in a more +serious manner by sending off detachments of bacilli, which are carried +by the lymphatics to the nearest glands, or by the blood-stream to more +distant, and it may be to all, parts of the body. When the infection is +thus generalised, the condition is called _general tuberculosis_. +Considering the extraordinary frequency of localised forms of surgical +tuberculosis, general dissemination of the disease is rare. + +#The clinical features# of surgical tuberculosis will be described with +the individual tissues and organs, as they vary widely according to the +situation of the lesion. + +#The general treatment# consists in combating the adverse influences +that have been mentioned as increasing the liability to tuberculous +infection. Within recent years the value of the "open-air" treatment has +been widely recognised. An open-air life, even in the centre of a city, +may be followed by marked improvement, especially in the hospital class +of patient, whose home surroundings tend to favour the progress of the +disease. The purer air of places away from centres of population is +still better; and, according to the idiosyncrasies of the individual +patient, mountain air or that of the sea coast may be preferred. In view +of the possible discomforts and gastric disturbance which may attend a +sea-voyage, this should be recommended to patients suffering from +tuberculous lesions with more caution than has hitherto been exercised. +The diet must be a liberal one, and should include those articles which +are at the same time easily digested and nourishing, especially proteids +and fats; milk obtained from a reliable source and underdone +butcher-meat are among the best. When the ordinary nourishment taken is +insufficient, it may be supplemented by such articles as malt extract, +stout, and cod-liver oil. The last is specially beneficial in patients +who do not take enough fat in other forms. It is noteworthy that many +tuberculous patients show an aversion to fat. + +For _the use of tuberculin in diagnosis_ and for _the vaccine treatment +of tuberculosis_ the reader is referred to text-books on medicine. + +In addition to increasing the resisting power of the patient, it is +important to enable the fluids of the body, so altered, to come into +contact with the tuberculous focus. One of the obstacles to this is that +the focus is often surrounded by tissues or fluids which have been +almost entirely deprived of bactericidal substances. In the case of +caseated glands in the neck, for example, it is obvious that the removal +of this inert material is necessary before the tissues can be irrigated +with fluids of high bactericidal value. Again, in tuberculous ascites +the abdominal cavity is filled with a fluid practically devoid of +anti-bacterial substances, so that the bacilli are able to thrive and +work their will on the tissues. When the stagnant fluid is got rid of by +laparotomy, the parts are immediately douched with lymph charged with +protective substances, the bactericidal power of which may be many times +that of the fluid displaced. + +It is probable that the beneficial influence of _counter-irritants_, +such as blisters, and exposure to the _Finsen light_ and other forms of +_rays_, is to be attributed in part to the increased flow of blood to +the infected tissues. + +_Artificial Hyperaemia._--As has been explained, the induction of +hyperaemia by the method devised by Bier, constitutes one of our most +efficient means of combating bacterial infection. The treatment of +tuberculosis on this plan has been proved by experience to be a valuable +addition to our therapeutic measures, and the simplicity of its +application has led to its being widely adopted in practice. It results +in an increase in the reactive changes around the tuberculous focus, an +increase in the immigration of leucocytes, and infiltration with the +lymphocytes. + +The constricting bandage should be applied at some distance above the +seat of infection; for instance, in disease of the wrist, it is put on +above the elbow, and it must not cause pain either where it is applied +or in the diseased part. The bandage is only applied for a few hours +each day, either two hours at a time or twice a day for one hour, and, +while it is on, all dressings are removed save a piece of sterile gauze +over any wound or sinus that may be present. The process of cure takes a +long time--nine or even twelve months in the case of a severe joint +affection. + +In cases in which a constricting bandage is inapplicable, for example, +in cold abscesses, tuberculous glands or tendon sheaths, Klapp's suction +bell is employed. The cup is applied for five minutes at a time and then +taken off for three minutes, and this is repeated over a period of +about three-quarters of an hour. The pus is allowed to escape by a small +incision, and no packing or drain should be introduced. + +It has been found that tuberculous lesions tend to undergo cure +when the infected tissues are exposed to the rays of the +sun--_heliotherapy_--therefore whenever practicable this therapeutic +measure should be had recourse to. + +Since the introduction of the methods of treatment described above, and +especially by their employment at an early stage in the disease, the +number of cases of tuberculosis requiring operative interference has +greatly diminished. There are still circumstances, however, in which an +operation is required; for example, in disease of the lymph glands for +the removal of inert masses of caseous material, in disease of bone for +the removal of sequestra, or in disease of joints to improve the +function of the limb. It is to be understood, however, that operative +treatment must always be preceded by and combined with other therapeutic +measures. + + +TUBERCULOUS ABSCESS + +The caseation of tuberculous granulation tissue and its liquefaction is +a slow and insidious process, and is unattended with the classical signs +of inflammation--hence the terms "cold" and "chronic" applied to the +tuberculous abscess. + +In a cold abscess, such as that which results from tuberculous disease +of the vertebrae, the clinical appearances are those of a soft, fluid +swelling without heat, redness, pain, or fever. When toxic symptoms are +present, they are usually due to a mixed infection. + +A tuberculous abscess results from the disintegration and liquefaction +of tuberculous granulation tissue which has undergone caseation. Fluid +and cells from the adjacent blood vessels exude into the cavity, and +lead to variations in the character of its contents. In some cases the +contents consist of a clear amber-coloured fluid, in which are suspended +fragments of caseated tissue; in others, of a white material like +cream-cheese. From the addition of a sufficient number of leucocytes, +the contents may resemble the pus of an ordinary abscess. + +The wall of the abscess is lined with tuberculous granulation tissue, +the inner layers of which are undergoing caseation and disintegration, +and present a shreddy appearance; the outer layers consist of +tuberculous tissue which has not yet undergone caseation. The abscess +tends to increase in size by progressive liquefaction of the inner +layers, caseation of the outer layers, and the further invasion of the +surrounding tissues by tubercle bacilli. In this way a tuberculous +abscess is capable of indefinite extension and increase in size until it +reaches a free surface and ruptures externally. The direction in which +it spreads is influenced by the anatomical arrangement of the tissues, +and possibly to some extent by gravity, and the abscess may reach the +surface at a considerable distance from its seat of origin. The best +illustration of this is seen in the psoas abscess, which may originate +in the dorsal vertebrae, extend downwards within the sheath of the psoas +muscle, and finally appear in the thigh. + +#Clinical Features.#--The insidious development of the tuberculous +abscess is one of its characteristic features. The swelling may attain a +considerable size without the patient being aware of its existence, and, +as a matter of fact, it is often discovered accidentally. The absence of +toxaemia is to be associated with the incapacity of the wall of the +abscess to permit of absorption; this is shown also by the fact that +when even a large quantity of iodoform is inserted into the cavity of +the abscess, there are no symptoms of poisoning. The abscess varies in +size from a small cherry to a cavity containing several pints of pus. +Its shape also varies; it is usually that of a flattened sphere, but it +may present pockets or burrows running in various directions. Sometimes +it is hour-glass or dumb-bell shaped, as is well illustrated in the +region of the groin in disease of the spine or pelvis, where there may +be a large sac occupying the venter ilii, and a smaller one in the +thigh, the two communicating by a narrow channel under Poupart's +ligament. By pressing with the fingers the pus may be displaced from one +compartment to the other. The usual course of events is that the abscess +progresses slowly, and finally reaches a free surface--generally the +skin. As it does so there may be some pain, redness, and local elevation +of temperature. Fluctuation becomes evident and superficial, and the +skin becomes livid and finally gives way. If the case is left to nature, +the discharge of pus continues, and the track opening on the skin +remains as a _sinus_. The persistence of suppuration is due to the +presence in the wall of the abscess and of the sinus, of tuberculous +granulation tissue, which, so long as it remains, continues to furnish +discharge, and so prevents healing. Sooner or later pyogenic organisms +gain access to the sinus, and through it to the wall of the abscess. +They tend further to depress the resisting power of the tissues, and +thereby aggravate and perpetuate the tuberculous disease. This +superadded infection with pyogenic organisms exposes the patient to the +further risks of septic intoxication, especially in the form of hectic +fever and septicaemia, and increases the liability to general +tuberculosis, and to waxy degeneration of the internal organs. The mixed +infection is chiefly responsible for the pyrexia, sweating, and +emaciation which the laity associate with consumptive disease. A +tuberculous abscess may in one or other of these ways be a cause of +death. + +_Residual abscess_ is the name given to an abscess that makes its +appearance months, or even years, after the apparent cure of tuberculous +disease--as, for example, in the hip-joint or spine. It is called +residual because it has its origin in the remains of the original +disease. + +[Illustration: FIG. 34.--Tuberculous Abscess in right lumbar region in a +woman aged thirty.] + +#Diagnosis.#--A cold abscess is to be diagnosed from a syphilitic gumma, +a cyst, and from lipoma and other soft tumours. The differential +diagnosis of these affections will be considered later; it is often made +easier by recognising the presence of a lesion that is likely to cause a +cold abscess, such as tuberculous disease of the spine or of the +sacro-iliac joint. When it is about to burst externally, it may be +difficult to distinguish a tuberculous abscess from one due to infection +with pyogenic organisms. Even when the abscess is opened, the +appearances of the pus may not supply the desired information, and it +may be necessary to submit it to bacteriological examination. When the +pus is found to be sterile, it is usually safe to assume that the +condition is tuberculous, as in other forms of suppuration the causative +organisms can usually be recognised. Experimental inoculation will +establish a definite diagnosis, but it implies a delay of two to three +weeks. + +#Treatment.#--The tuberculous abscess may recede and disappear under +general treatment. Many surgeons advise that so long as the abscess is +quiescent it should be left alone. All agree, however, that if it shows +a tendency to spread, to increase in size, or to approach the skin or a +mucous membrane, something should be done to avoid the danger of its +bursting and becoming infected with pyogenic organisms. Simple +evacuation of the abscess by a hollow needle may suffice, or bismuth or +iodoform may be introduced after withdrawal of the contents. + +_Evacuation of the Abscess and Injection of Iodoform._--The iodoform is +employed in the form of a 10 per cent. solution in ether or the same +proportion suspended in glycerin. Either form becomes sterile soon after +it is prepared. Its curative effects would appear to depend upon the +liberation of iodine, which restrains the activity of the bacilli, and +upon its capacity for irritating the tissues and so inducing a +protective leucocytosis, and also of stimulating the formation of scar +tissue. An anaesthetic is rarely called for, except in children. The +abscess is first evacuated by means of a large trocar and cannula +introduced obliquely through the overlying soft parts, avoiding any part +where the skin is thin or red. If the cannula becomes blocked with +caseous material, it may be cleared with a probe, or a small quantity of +saline solution is forced in by the syringe. The iodoform is injected by +means of a glass-barrelled syringe, which is firmly screwed on to the +cannula. The amount injected varies with the size of the abscess and the +age of the patient; it may be said to range from two or three drams in +the case of children to several ounces in large abscesses in adults. The +cannula is withdrawn, the puncture is closed by a Michel's clip, and a +dressing applied so as to exert a certain amount of compression. If the +abscess fills up again, the procedure should be repeated; in doing so, +the contents show the coloration due to liberated iodine. When the +contents are semi-solid, and cannot be withdrawn even through a large +cannula, an incision must be made, and, after the cavity has been +emptied, the iodoform is introduced through a short rubber tube attached +to the syringe. Experience has shown that even large abscesses, such as +those associated with spinal disease, may be cured by iodoform +injection, and this even when rupture of the abscess on the skin surface +has appeared to be imminent. + +Another method of treatment which is less popular now than it used to +be, and which is chiefly applicable in abscesses of moderate size, is by +_incision of the abscess and removal of the tuberculous tissue in its +wall_ with the sharp spoon. An incision is made which will give free +access to the interior of the abscess, so that outlying pockets or +recesses may not be overlooked. After removal of the pus, the wall of +the abscess is scraped with the Volkmann spoon or with Barker's flushing +spoon, to get rid of the tuberculous tissue with which it is lined. In +using the spoon, care must be taken that its sharp edge does not +perforate the wall of a vein or other important structure. Any debris +which may adhere to the walls is removed by rubbing with dry gauze. The +oozing of blood is arrested by packing the cavity for a few minutes with +gauze. After the packing is removed, iodoform powder is rubbed into the +raw surface. The soft parts divided by the incision are sutured in +layers so as to ensure primary union. If, on the other hand, there is +fear of a mixed infection, especially in abscesses near the rectum or +anus, it is safer to treat it by the open method, packing the cavity +with iodoform worsted or bismuth gauze, which is renewed at intervals of +a week or ten days as the cavity heals from the bottom. + +Another method is to incise the abscess, cleanse the cavity with gauze, +irrigate with Carrel-Dakin solution and pack with gauze smeared with the +dilute non-toxic B.I.P.P. (bismuth and iodoform 2 parts, vaseline 12 +parts, hard paraffin, sufficient to give the consistence of butter). The +wound is closed with "bipped" silk sutures; one of these--the "waiting +suture"--is left loose to permit of withdrawal of the gauze after +forty-eight hours; the waiting suture is then tied, and delayed primary +union is thus effected. + +When the skin over the abscess is red, thin, and about to give way, as +is frequently the case when the abscess is situated in the subcutaneous +cellular tissue, any skin which is undermined and infected with tubercle +should be removed with the scissors at the same time that the abscess is +dealt with. + +In abscesses treated by the open method, when the cavity has become +lined with healthy granulations, it may be closed by secondary suture, +or, if the granulating surface is flush with the skin, healing may be +hastened by skin-grafting. + +If the tuberculous abscess has burst and left a _sinus_, this is apt to +persist because of the presence of tuberculous tissue in its wall, and +of superadded pyogenic infection, or because it serves as an avenue for +the escape of discharge from a focus of tubercle in a bone or a lymph +gland. + +[Illustration: FIG. 35.--Tuberculous Sinus injected through its opening +in the forearm with bismuth paste. + +(Mr. Pirie Watson's case--Radiogram by Dr. Hope Fowler.)] + +The treatment varies with the conditions present, and must include +measures directed to the lesion from which the sinus has originated. The +extent and direction of any given sinus may be demonstrated by the use +of the probe, or, more accurately, by injecting the sinus with a paste +consisting of white vaseline containing 10 to 30 per cent. of bismuth +subcarbonate, and following its track with the X-rays (Fig. 35). + +It was found by Beck of Chicago that the injection of bismuth paste is +frequently followed by healing of the sinus, and that, if one injection +fails to bring about a cure, repeating the injection every second day +may be successful. Some caution must be observed in this treatment, as +symptoms of poisoning have been observed to follow its use. If they +manifest themselves, an injection of warm olive oil should be given; the +oil, left in for twelve hours or so, forms an emulsion with the bismuth, +which can be withdrawn by aspiration. Iodoform suspended in glycerin may +be employed in a similar manner. When these and other non-operative +measures fail, and the whole track of the sinus is accessible, it should +be laid open, scraped, and packed with bismuth or iodoform gauze until +it heals from the bottom. + +The _tuberculous ulcer_ is described in the chapter on ulcers. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +SYPHILIS + + +Definition.--Virus.--ACQUIRED SYPHILIS--Primary period: + _Incubation, primary chancre, glandular enlargement_; + _Extra-genital chancres_--Treatment--Secondary period: _General + symptoms, skin affections, mucous patches, affections of bones, + joints, eyes_, etc.--Treatment: _Salvarsan_--_Methods of + administering mercury_--Syphilis and marriage--Intermediate + stage--_Reminders_--Tertiary period: _General symptoms_, + _gummata_, _tertiary ulcers_, _tertiary lesions of skin, mucous + membrane, bones, joints_, etc.--Second attacks.--INHERITED + SYPHILIS--Transmission--_Clinical features in infancy, in later + life_--Contagiousness--Treatment. + +Syphilis is an infective disease due to the entrance into the body of a +specific virus. It is nearly always communicated from one individual to +another by contact infection, the discharge from a syphilitic lesion +being the medium through which the virus is transmitted, and the seat of +inoculation is almost invariably a surface covered by squamous +epithelium. The disease was unknown in Europe before the year 1493, when +it was introduced into Spain by Columbus' crew, who were infected in +Haiti, where the disease had been endemic from time immemorial (Bloch). + +The granulation tissue which forms as a result of the reaction of the +tissues to the presence of the virus is chiefly composed of lymphocytes +and plasma cells, along with an abundant new formation of capillary +blood vessels. Giant cells are not uncommon, but the endothelioid cells, +which are so marked a feature of tuberculous granulation tissue, are +practically absent. + +When syphilis is communicated from one individual to another by contact +infection, the condition is spoken of as _acquired syphilis_, and the +first visible sign of the disease appears at the site of inoculation, +and is known as _the primary lesion_. Those who have thus acquired the +disease may transmit it to their offspring, who are then said to suffer +from _inherited syphilis_. + +#The Virus of Syphilis.#--The cause of syphilis, whether acquired or +inherited, is the organism, described by Schaudinn and Hoffman, in 1905, +under the name of _spirochaeta pallida_ or _spironema pallidum_. It is a +delicate, thread-like spirilla, in length averaging from 8 to 10 +[micron] and in width about 0.25 [micron], and is distinguished from +other spirochaetes by its delicate shape, its dead-white appearance, +together with its closely twisted spiral form, with numerous undulations +(10 to 26), which are perfectly regular, and are characteristic in that +they remain the same during rest and in active movement (Fig. 36). In a +fresh specimen, such as a scraping from a hard chancre suspended in a +little salt solution, it shows active movements. The organism is readily +destroyed by heat, and perishes in the absence of moisture. It has been +proved experimentally that it remains infective only up to six hours +after its removal from the body. Noguchi has succeeded in obtaining pure +cultures from the infected tissues of the rabbit. + +[Illustration: FIG. 36.--Spirochaeta pallida from scraping of hard +Chancre of Prepuce. x 1000 diam. Burri method.] + +The spirochaete may be recognised in films made by scraping the deeper +parts of the primary lesion, from papules on the skin, or from blisters +artificially raised on lesions of the skin or on the immediately +adjacent portion of healthy skin. It is readily found in the mucous +patches and condylomata of the secondary period. It is best stained by +Giemsa's method, and its recognition is greatly aided by the use of the +ultra-microscope. + +The spirochaete has been demonstrated in every form of syphilitic lesion, +and has been isolated from the blood--with difficulty--and from lymph +withdrawn by a hollow needle from enlarged lymph glands. The saliva of +persons suffering from syphilitic lesions of the mouth also contains the +organism. + +[Illustration: FIG. 37.--Spirochaeta refrigerans from scraping of Vagina. +x 1000 diam. Burri method.] + +In tertiary lesions there is greater difficulty in demonstrating the +spirochaete, but small numbers have been found in the peripheral parts of +gummata and in the thickened patches in syphilitic disease of the aorta. +Noguchi and Moore have discovered the spirochaete in the brain in a +number of cases of general paralysis of the insane. The spirochaete may +persist in the body for a long time after infection; its presence has +been demonstrated as long as sixteen years after the original +acquisition of the disease. + +In inherited syphilis the spirochaete is present in enormous numbers +throughout all the organs and fluids of the body. + +Considerable interest attaches to the observations of Metchnikoff, Roux, +and Neisser, who have succeeded in conveying syphilis to the chimpanzee +and other members of the ape tribe, obtaining primary and secondary +lesions similar to those observed in man, and also containing the +spirochaete. In animals the disease has been transmitted by material from +all kinds of syphilitic lesions, including even the blood in the +secondary and tertiary stages of the disease. The primary lesion is in +the form of an indurated papule, in every respect resembling the +corresponding lesion in man, and associated with enlargement and +induration of the lymph glands. The primary lesion usually appears about +thirty days after inoculation, to be followed, in about half the cases, +by secondary manifestations, which are usually of a mild character; in +no instance has any tertiary lesion been observed. The severity of the +affection amongst apes would appear to be in proportion to the nearness +of the relationship of the animal to the human subject. The eye of the +rabbit is also susceptible to inoculation from syphilitic lesions; the +material in a finely divided state is introduced into the anterior +chamber of the eye. + +Attempts to immunise against the disease have so far proved negative, +but Metchnikoff has shown that the inunction of the part inoculated with +an ointment containing 33 per cent. of calomel, within one hour of +infection, suffices to neutralise the virus in man, and up to eighteen +hours in monkeys. He recommends the adoption of this procedure in the +prophylaxis of syphilis. + +Noguchi has made an emulsion of dead spirochaetes which he calls +_luetin_, and which gives a specific reaction resembling that of +tuberculin in tuberculosis, a papule or a pustule forming at the site of +the intra-dermal injection. It is said to be most efficacious in the +tertiary and latent forms of syphilis, which are precisely those forms +in which the diagnosis is surrounded with difficulties. + + +ACQUIRED SYPHILIS + +In the vast majority of cases, infection takes place during the congress +of the sexes. Delicate, easily abraded surfaces are then brought into +contact, and the discharge from lesions containing the virus is placed +under favourable conditions for conveying the disease from one person to +the other. In the male the possibility of infection taking place is +increased if the virus is retained under cover of a long and tight +prepuce, and if there are abrasions on the surface with which it comes +in contact. The frequency with which infection takes place on the +genitals during sexual intercourse warrants syphilis being considered a +venereal disease, although there are other ways in which it may be +contracted. + +Some of these imply direct contact--such, for example, as kissing, the +digital examination of syphilitic patients by doctors or nurses, or +infection of the surgeon's fingers while operating upon a syphilitic +patient. In suckling, a syphilitic wet nurse may infect a healthy +infant, or a syphilitic infant may infect a healthy wet nurse. In other +cases the infection is by indirect contact, the virus being conveyed +through the medium of articles contaminated by a syphilitic +patient--such, for example, as surgical instruments, tobacco pipes, wind +instruments, table utensils, towels, or underclothing. Physiological +secretions, such as saliva, milk, or tears, are not capable of +communicating the disease unless contaminated by discharge from a +syphilitic sore. While the saliva itself is innocuous, it can be, and +often is, contaminated by the discharge from mucous patches or other +syphilitic lesions in the mouth and throat, and is then a dangerous +medium of infection. Unless these extra-genital sources of infection are +borne in mind, there is a danger of failing to recognise the primary +lesion of syphilis in unusual positions, such as the lip, finger, or +nipple. When the disease is thus acquired by innocent transfer, it is +known as _syphilis insontium_. + +#Stages or Periods of Syphilis.#--Following the teaching of Ricord, it +is customary to divide the life-history of syphilis into three periods +or stages, referred to, for convenience, as primary, secondary, and +tertiary. This division is to some extent arbitrary and artificial, as +the different stages overlap one another, and the lesions of one stage +merge insensibly into those of another. Wide variations are met with in +the manifestations of the secondary stage, and histologically there is +no valid distinction to be drawn between secondary and tertiary lesions. + +_The primary period_ embraces the interval that elapses between the +initial infection and the first constitutional manifestations,--roughly, +from four to eight weeks,--and includes the period of incubation, the +development of the primary sore, and the enlargement of the nearest +lymph glands. + +_The secondary period_ varies in duration from one to two years, during +which time the patient is liable to suffer from manifestations which are +for the most part superficial in character, affecting the skin and its +appendages, the mucous membranes, and the lymph glands. + +_The tertiary period_ has no time-limit except that it follows upon the +secondary, so that during the remainder of his life the patient is +liable to suffer from manifestations which may affect the deeper tissues +and internal organs as well as the skin and mucous membranes. + +#Primary Syphilis.#--_The period of incubation_ represents the interval +that elapses between the occurrence of infection and the appearance of +the primary lesion at the site of inoculation. Its limits may be stated +as varying from two to six weeks, with an average of from twenty-one to +twenty-eight days. While the disease is incubating, there is nothing to +show that infection has occurred. + +_The Primary Lesion._--The incubation period having elapsed, there +appears at the site of inoculation a circumscribed area of infiltration +which represents the reaction of the tissues to the entrance of the +virus. The first appearance is that of a sharply defined papule, rarely +larger than a split pea. Its surface is at first smooth and shiny, but +as necrosis of the tissue elements takes place in the centre, it becomes +concave, and in many cases the epithelium is shed, and an ulcer is +formed. Such an ulcer has an elevated border, sharply cut edges, an +indurated base, and exudes a scanty serous discharge; its surface is at +first occupied by yellow necrosed tissue, but in time this is replaced +by smooth, pale-pink granulation tissue; finally, epithelium may spread +over the surface, and the ulcer heals. As a rule, the patient suffers +little discomfort, and may even be ignorant of the existence of the +lesion, unless, as a result of exposure to mechanical or septic +irritation, ulceration ensues, and the sore becomes painful and tender, +and yields a purulent discharge. The primary lesion may persist until +the secondary manifestations make their appearance, that is, for several +weeks. + +It cannot be emphasised too strongly that the induration of the primary +lesion, which has obtained for it the name of "hard chancre," is its +most important characteristic. It is best appreciated when the sore is +grasped from side to side between the finger and thumb. The sensation on +grasping it has been aptly compared to that imparted by a nodule of +cartilage, or by a button felt through a layer of cloth. The evidence +obtained by touch is more valuable than that obtained by inspection, a +fact which is made use of in the recognition of _concealed +chancres_--that is, those which are hidden by a tight prepuce. The +induration is due not only to the dense packing of the connective-tissue +spaces with lymphocytes and plasma cells, but also to the formation of +new connective-tissue elements. It is most marked in chancres situated +in the furrow between the glans and the prepuce. + +_In the male_, the primary lesion specially affects certain +_situations_, and the appearances vary with these: (1) On the inner +aspect of the prepuce, and in the fold between the prepuce and the +glans; in the latter situation the induration imparts a "collar-like" +rigidity to the prepuce, which is most apparent when it is rolled back +over the corona. (2) At the orifice of the prepuce the primary lesion +assumes the form of multiple linear ulcers or fissures, and as each of +these is attended with infiltration, the prepuce cannot be pulled +back--a condition known as _syphilitic phimosis_. (3) On the glans penis +the infiltration may be so superficial that it resembles a layer of +parchment, but if it invades the cavernous tissue there is a dense mass +of induration. (4) On the external aspect of the prepuce or on the skin +of the penis itself. (5) At either end of the torn fraenum, in the form +of a diamond-shaped ulcer raised above the surroundings. (6) In relation +to the meatus and canal of the urethra, in either of which situations +the swelling and induration may lead to narrowing of the urethra, so +that the urine is passed with pain and difficulty and in a minute +stream; stricture results only in the exceptional cases in which the +chancre has ulcerated and caused destruction of tissue. A chancre within +the orifice of the urethra is rare, and, being concealed from view, it +can only be recognised by the discharge from the meatus and by the +induration felt between the finger and thumb on palpating the urethra. + +_In the female_, the primary lesion is not so typical or so easily +recognised as in men; it is usually met with on the labia; the +induration is rarely characteristic and does not last so long. The +primary lesion may take the form of condylomata. Indurated oedema, with +brownish-red or livid discoloration of one or both labia, is diagnostic +of syphilis. + +The hard chancre is usually solitary, but sometimes there are two or +more; when there are several, they are individually smaller than the +solitary chancre. + +It is the exception for a hard chancre to leave a visible scar, hence, +in examining patients with a doubtful history of syphilis, little +reliance can be placed on the presence or absence of a scar on the +genitals. When the primary lesion has taken the form of an open ulcer +with purulent discharge, or has sloughed, there is a permanent scar. + +_Infection of the adjacent lymph glands_ is usually found to have taken +place by the time the primary lesion has acquired its characteristic +induration. Several of the glands along Poupart's ligament, on one or on +both sides, become enlarged, rounded, and indurated; they are usually +freely movable, and are rarely sensitive unless there is superadded +septic infection. The term _bullet-bubo_ has been applied to them, and +their presence is of great value in diagnosis. In a certain number of +cases, one of the main _lymph vessels_ on the dorsum of the penis is +transformed into a fibrous cord easily recognisable on palpation, and +when grasped between the fingers appears to be in size and consistence +not unlike the vas deferens. + +_Concealed chancre_ is the term applied when one or more chancres are +situated within the sac of a prepuce which cannot be retracted. If the +induration is well marked, the chancre can be palpated through the +prepuce, and is tender on pressure. As under these conditions it is +impossible for the patient to keep the parts clean, septic infection +becomes a prominent feature, the prepuce is oedematous and inflamed, and +there is an abundant discharge of pus from its orifice. It occasionally +happens that the infection assumes a virulent character and causes +sloughing of the prepuce--a condition known as _phagedaena_. The +discharge is then foul and blood-stained, and the prepuce becomes of a +dusky red or purple colour, and may finally slough, exposing the glans. + +_Extra-genital or Erratic Chancres_ (Fig. 38).--Erratic chancre is the +term applied by Jonathan Hutchinson to the primary lesion of syphilis +when it appears on parts of the body other than the genitals. It differs +in some respects from the hard chancre as met with on the penis; it is +usually larger, the induration is more diffused, and the enlarged glands +are softer and more sensitive. The glands in nearest relation to the +sore are those first affected, for example, the epitrochlear or axillary +glands in chancre of the finger; the submaxillary glands in chancre of +the lip or mouth; or the pre-auricular gland in chancre of the eyelid or +forehead. In consequence of their divergence from the typical chancre, +and of their being often met with in persons who, from age, +surroundings, or moral character, are unlikely subjects of venereal +disease, the true nature of erratic chancres is often overlooked until +the persistence of the lesion, its want of resemblance to anything else, +or the onset of constitutional symptoms, determines the diagnosis of +syphilis. A solitary, indolent sore occurring on the lip, eyelid, +finger, or nipple, which does not heal but tends to increase in size, +and is associated with induration and enlargement of the adjacent +glands, is most likely to be the primary lesion of syphilis. + +[Illustration: FIG. 38.--Primary Lesion on Thumb, with Secondary +Eruption on Forearm.[1]] + +[1] From _A System of Syphilis_, vol. ii., edited by D'Arcy Power and +J. Keogh Murphy, Oxford Medical Publications. + +#The Soft Sore, Soft Chancre, or Chancroid.#--The differential diagnosis +of syphilis necessitates the consideration of the _soft sore_, _soft +chancre_, or _chancroid_, which is also a common form of venereal +disease, and is due to infection with a virulent pus-forming bacillus, +first described by Ducrey in 1889. Ducrey's bacillus occurs in the form +of minute oval rods measuring about 1.5 [micron] in length, which stain +readily with any basic aniline dye, but are quickly decolorised by +Gram's method. They are found mixed with other organisms in the purulent +discharge from the sore, and are chiefly arranged in small groups or in +short chains. Soft sores are always contracted by direct contact from +another individual, and the incubation period is a short one of from two +to five days. They are usually situated in the vicinity of the fraenum, +and, in women, about the labia minora or fourchette; they probably +originate in abrasions in these situations. They appear as pustules, +which are rapidly converted into small, acutely inflamed ulcers with +sharply cut, irregular margins, which bleed easily and yield an abundant +yellow purulent discharge. They are devoid of the induration of +syphilis, are painful, and nearly always multiple, reproducing +themselves in successive crops by auto-inoculation. Soft sores are often +complicated by phimosis and balanitis, and they frequently lead to +infection of the glands in the groin. The resulting bubo is ill-defined, +painful, and tender, and suppuration occurs in about one-fourth of the +cases. The overlying skin becomes adherent and red, and suppuration +takes place either in the form of separate foci in the interior of the +individual glands, or around them; in the latter case, on incision, the +glands are found lying bathed in pus. Ducrey's bacillus is found in pure +culture in the pus. Sometimes other pyogenic organisms are superadded. +After the bubo has been opened the wound may take on the characters of a +soft sore. + +_Treatment._--Soft sores heal rapidly when kept clean. If concealed +under a tight prepuce, an incision should be made along the dorsum to +give access to the sores. They should be washed with eusol, and dusted +with a mixture of one part iodoform and two parts boracic or salicylic +acid, or, when the odour of iodoform is objected to, of equal parts of +boracic acid and carbonate of zinc. Immersion of the penis in a bath of +eusol for some hours daily is useful. The sore is then covered with a +piece of gauze kept in position by drawing the prepuce over it, or by a +few turns of a narrow bandage. Sublimed sulphur frequently rubbed into +the sore is recommended by C. H. Mills. If the sores spread in spite of +this, they should be painted with cocaine and then cauterised. When the +glands in the groin are infected, the patient must be confined to bed, +and a dressing impregnated with ichthyol and glycerin (10 per cent.) +applied; the repeated use of a suction bell is of great service. +Harrison recommends aspiration of a bubonic abscess, followed by +injection of 1 in 20 solution of tincture of iodine into the cavity; +this is in turn aspirated, and then 1 or 2 c.c. of the solution injected +and left in. This is repeated as often as the cavity refills. It is +sometimes necessary to let the pus out by one or more small incisions +and continue the use of the suction bell. + +_Diagnosis of Primary Syphilis._--In cases in which there is a history +of an incubation period of from three to five weeks, when the sore is +indurated, persistent, and indolent, and attended with bullet-buboes in +the groin, the diagnosis of primary syphilis is not difficult. Owing, +however, to the great importance of instituting treatment at the +earliest possible stage of the infection, an effort should be made to +establish the diagnosis without delay by demonstrating the spirochaete. +Before any antiseptic is applied, the margin of the suspected sore is +rubbed with gauze, and the serum that exudes on pressure is collected +in a capillary tube and sent to a pathologist for microscopical +examination. A better specimen can sometimes be obtained by puncturing +an enlarged lymph gland with a hypodermic needle, injecting a few minims +of sterile saline solution and then aspirating the blood-stained fluid. + +The Wassermann test must not be relied upon for diagnosis in the early +stage, as it does not appear until the disease has become generalised +and the secondary manifestations are about to begin. The practice of +waiting in doubtful cases before making a diagnosis until secondary +manifestations appear is to be condemned. + +Extra-genital chancres, _e.g._ sores on the fingers of doctors or +nurses, are specially liable to be overlooked, if the possibility of +syphilis is not kept in mind. + +It is important to bear in mind _the possibility of a patient having +acquired a mixed infection_ with the virus of soft chancre, which will +manifest itself a few days after infection, and the virus of syphilis, +which shows itself after an interval of several weeks. This occurrence +was formerly the source of much confusion in diagnosis, and it was +believed at one time that syphilis might result from soft sores, but it +is now established that syphilis does not follow upon soft sores unless +the virus of syphilis has been introduced at the same time. The +practitioner must be on his guard, therefore, when a patient asks his +advice concerning a venereal sore which has appeared within a few days +of exposure to infection. Such a patient is naturally anxious to know +whether he has contracted syphilis or not, but neither a positive nor a +negative answer can be given--unless the spirochaete can be identified. + +Syphilis is also to be diagnosed from _epithelioma_, the common form of +cancer of the penis. It is especially in elderly patients with a tight +prepuce that the induration of syphilis is liable to be mistaken for +that associated with epithelioma. In difficult cases the prepuce must be +slit open. + +Difficulty may occur in the diagnosis of primary syphilis from _herpes_, +as this may appear as late as ten days after connection; it commences as +a group of vesicles which soon burst and leave shallow ulcers with a +yellow floor; these disappear quickly on the use of an antiseptic +dusting powder. + +Apprehensive patients who have committed sexual indiscretions are apt to +regard as syphilitic any lesion which happens to be located on the +penis--for example, acne pustules, eczema, psoriasis papules, boils, +balanitis, or venereal warts. + +_The local treatment_ of the primary sore consists in attempting to +destroy the organisms _in situ_. An ointment made up of calomel 33 +parts, lanoline 67 parts, and vaseline 10 parts (Metchnikoff's cream) is +rubbed into the sore several times a day. If the surface is unbroken, it +may be dusted lightly with a powder composed of equal parts of calomel +and carbonate of zinc. A gauze dressing is applied, and the penis and +scrotum should be supported against the abdominal wall by a triangular +handkerchief or bathing-drawers; if there is inflammatory oedema the +patient should be confined to bed. + +In _concealed chancres_ with phimosis, the sac of the prepuce should be +slit up along the dorsum to admit of the ointment being applied. If +phagedaena occurs, the prepuce must be slit open along the dorsum, or if +sloughing, cut away, and the patient should have frequent sitz baths of +weak sublimate lotion. When the chancre is within the meatus, iodoform +bougies are inserted into the urethra, and the urine should be rendered +bland by drinking large quantities of fluid. + +General treatment is considered on p. 149. + +#Secondary Syphilis.#--The following description of secondary syphilis +is based on the average course of the disease in untreated cases. The +onset of constitutional symptoms occurs from six to twelve weeks after +infection, and the manifestations are the result of the entrance of the +virus into the general circulation, and its being carried to all parts +of the body. The period during which the patient is liable to suffer +from secondary symptoms ranges from six months to two years. + +In some cases the general health is not disturbed; in others the patient +is feverish and out of sorts, losing appetite, becoming pale and anaemic, +complaining of lassitude, incapacity for exertion, headache, and pains +of a rheumatic type referred to the bones. There is a moderate degree of +leucocytosis, but the increase is due not to the polymorpho-nuclear +leucocytes but to lymphocytes. In isolated cases the temperature rises +to 101 or 102 F. and the patient loses flesh. The lymph glands, +particularly those along the posterior border of the sterno-mastoid, +become enlarged and slightly tender. The hair comes out, eruptions +appear on the skin and mucous membranes, and the patient may suffer from +sore throat and affections of the eyes. The local lesions are to be +regarded as being of the nature of reactions against accumulations of +the parasite, lymphocytes and plasma cells being the elements chiefly +concerned in the reactive process. + +_Affections of the Skin_ are among the most constant manifestations. An +evanescent macular rash, not unlike that of measles--_roseola_--is the +first to appear, usually in from six to eight weeks from the date of +infection; it is widely diffused over the trunk, and the original dull +rose-colour soon fades, leaving brownish stains, which in time +disappear. It is usually followed by a _papular eruption_, the +individual papules being raised above the surface of the skin, smooth or +scaly, and as they are due to infiltration of the skin they are more +persistent than the roseoles. They vary in size and distribution, being +sometimes small, hard, polished, and closely aggregated like lichen, +sometimes as large as a shilling-piece, with an accumulation of scales +on the surface like that seen in psoriasis. The co-existence of scaly +papules and faded roseoles is very suggestive of syphilis. + +Other types of eruption are less common, and are met with from the third +month onwards. A _pustular_ eruption, not unlike that of acne, is +sometimes a prominent feature, but is not characteristic of syphilis +unless it affects the scalp and forehead and is associated with the +remains of the papular eruption. The term _ecthyma_ is applied when the +pustules are of large size, and, after breaking on the surface, give +rise to superficial ulcers; the discharge from the ulcer often dries up +and forms a scab or crust which is continually added to from below as +the ulcer extends in area and depth. The term _rupia_ is applied when +the crusts are prominent, dark in colour, and conical in shape, roughly +resembling the shell of a limpet. If the crust is detached, a sharply +defined ulcer is exposed, and when this heals it leaves a scar which is +usually circular, thin, white, shining like satin, and the surrounding +skin is darkly pigmented; in the case of deep ulcers, the scar is +depressed and adherent (Fig. 39). + +[Illustration: FIG. 39.--Syphilitic Rupia, showing the limpet-shaped +crusts or scabs.] + +In the later stages there may occur a form of creeping or _spreading +ulceration of the skin_ of the face, groin, or scrotum, healing at one +edge and spreading at another like tuberculous lupus, but distinguished +from this by its more rapid progress and by the pigmentation of the +scar. + +_Condylomata_ are more characteristic of syphilis than any other type of +skin lesion. They are papules occurring on those parts of the body where +the skin is habitually moist, and especially where two skin surfaces are +in contact. They are chiefly met with on the external genitals, +especially in women, around the anus, beneath large pendulous mammae, +between the toes, and at the angles of the mouth, and in these +situations their development is greatly favoured by neglect of +cleanliness. They present the appearance of well-defined circular or +ovoid areas in which the skin is thickened and raised above the surface; +they are covered with a white sodden epidermis, and furnish a scanty but +very infective discharge. Under the influence of irritation and want of +rest, as at the anus or at the angle of the mouth, they are apt to +become fissured and superficially ulcerated, and the discharge then +becomes abundant and may crust on the surface, forming yellow scabs. At +the angle of the mouth the condylomatous patches may spread to the +cheek, and when they ulcerate may leave fissure-like scars radiating +from the mouth--an appearance best seen in inherited syphilis (Fig. 44). + +_The Appendages of the Skin._--The _hair_ loses its gloss, becomes dry +and brittle, and readily falls out, either as an exaggeration of the +normal shedding of the hair, or in scattered areas over the scalp +(_syphilitic alopoecia_). The hair is not re-formed in the scars which +result from ulcerated lesions of the scalp. The _nail-folds_ +occasionally present a pustular eruption and superficial ulceration, to +which the name _syphilitic onychia_ has been applied; more commonly the +nails become brittle and ragged, and they may even be shed. + +_The Mucous Membranes_, and especially those of the _mouth_ and +_throat_, suffer from lesions similar to those met with on the skin. On +a mucous surface the papular eruption assumes the form of _mucous +patches_, which are areas with a congested base covered with a thin +white film of sodden epithelium like wet tissue-paper. They are best +seen on the inner aspect of the cheeks, the soft palate, uvula, pillars +of the fauces, and tonsils. In addition to mucous patches, there may be +a number of small, _superficial, kidney-shaped ulcers_, especially along +the margins of the tongue and on the tonsils. In the absence of mucous +patches and ulcers, the sore throat may be characterised by a bluish +tinge of the inflamed mucous membrane and a thin film of shed epithelium +on the surface. Sometimes there is an elongated sinuous film which has +been likened to the track of a snail. In the _larynx_ the presence of +congestion, oedema, and mucous patches may be the cause of persistent +hoarseness. The _tongue_ often presents a combination of lesions, +including ulcers, patches where the papillae are absent, fissures, and +raised white papules resembling warts, especially towards the centre of +the dorsum. These lesions are specially apt to occur in those who smoke, +drink undiluted alcohol or spirits, or eat hot condiments to excess, or +who have irregular, sharp-cornered teeth. At a later period, and in +those who are broken down in health from intemperance or other cause, +the sore throat may take the form of rapidly spreading, penetrating +ulcers in the soft palate and pillars of the fauces, which may lead to +extensive destruction of tissue, with subsequent scars and deformity +highly characteristic of previous syphilis. + +In the _Bones_, lesions occur which assume the clinical features of an +evanescent periostitis, the patient complaining of nocturnal pains over +the frontal bone, sternum, tibiae, and ulnae, and localised tenderness on +tapping over these bones. + +In the _Joints_, a serous synovitis or hydrops may occur, chiefly in the +knee, on one or on both sides. + +_The Affections of the Eyes_, although fortunately rare, are of great +importance because of the serious results which may follow if they are +not recognised and treated. _Iritis_ is the commonest of these, and may +occur in one or in both eyes, one after the other, from three to eight +months after infection. The patient complains of impairment of sight and +of frontal or supraorbital pain. The eye waters and is hypersensitive, +the iris is discoloured and reacts sluggishly to light, and there is a +zone of ciliary congestion around the cornea. The appearance of minute +white nodules or flakes of lymph at the margin of the pupil is +especially characteristic of syphilitic iritis. When adhesions have +formed between the iris and the structures in relation to it, the pupil +dilates irregularly under atropin. Although complete recovery is to be +expected under early and energetic treatment, if neglected, _iritis_ may +result in occlusion of the pupil and permanent impairment or loss of +sight. + +The other lesions of the eye are much rarer, and can only be discovered +on ophthalmoscopic examination. + +The virus of syphilis exerts a special influence upon the _Blood +Vessels_, exciting a proliferation of the endothelial lining which +results in narrowing of their lumen, _endarteritis_, and a perivascular +infiltration in the form of accumulations of plasma cells around the +vessels and in the lymphatics that accompany them. + +In the _Brain_, in the later periods of secondary and in tertiary +syphilis, changes occur as a result of the narrowing of the lumen of the +arteries, or of their complete obliteration by thrombosis. By +interfering with the nutrition of those parts of the brain supplied by +the affected arteries, these lesions give rise to clinical features of +which severe headache and paralysis are the most prominent. + +Affections of the _Spinal Cord_ are extremely rare, but paraplegia from +myelitis has been observed. + +Lastly, attention must be directed to the remarkable variations observed +in different patients. Sometimes the virulent character of the disease +can only be accounted for by an idiosyncrasy of the patient. +Constitutional symptoms, particularly pyrexia and anaemia, are most often +met with in young women. Patients over forty years of age have greater +difficulty in overcoming the infection than younger adults. Malarial and +other infections, and the conditions attending life in tropical +countries, from the debility which they cause, tend to aggravate and +prolong the disease, which then assumes the characters of what has been +called _malignant syphilis_. All chronic ailments have a similar +influence, and alcoholic intemperance is universally regarded as a +serious aggravating factor. + +_Diagnosis of Secondary Syphilis._--A routine examination should be made +of the parts of the body which are most often affected in this +disease--the scalp, mouth, throat, posterior cervical glands, and the +trunk, the patient being stripped and examined by daylight. Among the +_diagnostic features of the skin affections_ the following may be +mentioned: They are frequently, and sometimes to a marked degree, +symmetrical; more than one type of eruption--papules and pustules, for +example--are present at the same time; there is little itching; they are +at first a dull-red colour, but later present a brown pigmentation which +has been likened to the colour of raw ham; they exhibit a predilection +for those parts of the forehead and neck which are close to the roots of +the hair; they tend to pass off spontaneously; and they disappear +rapidly under treatment. + +#Serum Diagnosis--Wassermann Reaction.#--Wassermann found that if an +extract of syphilitic liver rich in spirochaetes is mixed with the serum +from a syphilitic patient, a large amount of complement is fixed. The +application of the test is highly complicated and can only be carried +out by an expert pathologist. For the purpose he is supplied with from 5 +c.c. to 10 c.c. of the patient's blood, withdrawn under aseptic +conditions from the median basilic vein by means of a serum syringe, and +transferred to a clean and dry glass tube. There is abundant evidence +that the Wassermann test is a reliable means of establishing a diagnosis +of syphilis. + +A definitely positive reaction can usually be obtained between the +fifteenth and thirtieth day after the appearance of the primary lesion, +and as time goes on it becomes more marked. During the secondary period +the reaction is practically always positive. In the tertiary stage also +it is positive except in so far as it is modified by the results of +treatment. In para-syphilitic lesions such as general paralysis and +tabes a positive reaction is almost always present. In inherited +syphilis the reaction is positive in every case. A positive reaction may +be present in other diseases, for example, frambesia, trypanosomiasis, +and leprosy. + +As the presence of the reaction is an evidence of the activity of the +spirochaetes, repeated applications of the test furnish a valuable means +of estimating the efficacy of treatment. The object aimed at is to +change a persistently positive reaction to a permanently negative one. + +#Treatment of Syphilis.#--In the treatment of syphilis the two main +objects are to maintain the general health at the highest possible +standard, and to introduce into the system therapeutic agents which will +inhibit or destroy the invading parasite. + +The second of these objects has been achieved by the researches of +Ehrlich, who, in conjunction with his pupil, Hata, has built up a +compound, the dihydrochloride of dioxydiamido-arseno-benzol, popularly +known as salvarsan or "606." Other preparations, such as kharsivan, +arseno-billon, and diarsenol, are chemically equivalent to salvarsan, +containing from 27 to 31 per cent. of arsenic, and are equally +efficient. The full dose is 0.6 grm. All these members of the "606" +group form an acid solution when dissolved in water, and must be +rendered alkaline before being injected. As subcutaneous and +intra-muscular injections cause considerable pain, and may cause +sloughing of the tissues, "606" preparations must be injected +intravenously. Ehrlich has devised a preparation--neo-salvarsan, or +"914," which is more easily prepared and forms a neutral solution. It +contains from 18 to 20 per cent. of arsenic. Neo-kharsivan, +novo-arseno-billon, and neo-diarsenol belong to the "914" group, the +full dosage of which is 0.9 grm. As subcutaneous and intra-muscular +injections of the "914" group are not painful, and even more efficient +than intravenous injections, the administration is simpler. + +Galyl, luargol, and other preparations act in the same way as the "606" +and "914" groups. + +The "606" preparations may be introduced into the veins by injection or +by means of an apparatus which allows the solution to flow in by +gravity. The left median basilic vein is selected, and a platino-iridium +needle with a short point and a bore larger than that of the ordinary +hypodermic syringe is used. The needle is passed for a few millimetres +along the vein, and the solution is then slowly introduced; before +withdrawing the needle some saline is run in to diminish the risk of +thrombosis. + +The "914" preparations may be injected either into the subcutaneous +tissue of the buttock or into the substance of the gluteus muscle. The +part is then massaged for a few minutes, and the massage is repeated +daily for a few days. + +No hard-and-fast rules can be laid down as to what constitutes a +complete course of treatment. Harrison recommends as a _minimum_ course +of one of the "914" preparations in _early primary cases_ an initial +dose of 0.45 grm. given intra-muscularly or into the deep subcutaneous +tissue; the same dose a week later; 0.6 grm. the following week; then +miss a week and give 9.6 grms. on two successive weeks; then miss two +weeks and give 0.6 grm. on two more successive weeks. + +When a _positive Wassermann reaction_ is present before treatment is +commenced, the above course is prolonged as follows: for three weeks is +given a course of potassium iodide, after which four more weekly +injections of 0.6 grm. of "914" are given. + +With each injection of "914" after the first, throughout the whole +course 1 grain of mercury is injected intra-muscularly. + +In the course of a few hours, there is usually some indisposition, with +a feeling of chilliness and slight rise of temperature; these symptoms +pass off within twenty-four hours, and in a few days there is a decided +improvement of health. Three or four days after an intra-muscular +injection there may be pain and stiffness in the gluteal region. + +These preparations are the most efficient therapeutic agents that have +yet been employed in the treatment of syphilis. + +The manifestations of the disease disappear with remarkable rapidity. +Observations show that the spirochaetes lose their capacity for movement +within an hour or two of the administration, and usually disappear +altogether in from twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Wassermann's +reaction usually yields a negative result in from three weeks to two +months, but later may again become positive. Subsequent doses of the +arsenical preparation are therefore usually indicated, and should be +given in from 7 to 21 days according to the dose. + +When syphilis occurs in a _pregnant woman_, she should be given in the +early months an ordinary course of "914," followed by 10-grain doses of +potassium iodide twice daily. The injections may be repeated two months +later, and during the remainder of the pregnancy 2-grain mercury pills +are given twice daily (A. Campbell). The presence of albumen in the +urine contra-indicates arsenical treatment. + +It need scarcely be pointed out that the use of powerful drugs like +"606" and "914" is not free from risk; it may be mentioned that each +dose contains nearly three grains of arsenic. Before the administration +the patient must be overhauled; its administration is contra-indicated +in the presence of disease of the heart and blood vessels, especially a +combination of syphilitic aortitis and sclerosis of the coronary +arteries, with degeneration of the heart muscle; in affections of the +central nervous system, especially advanced paralysis, and in such +disturbances of metabolism as are associated with diabetes and Bright's +disease. Its use is not contra-indicated in any lesion of active +syphilis. + +The administration is controlled by the systematic examination of the +urine for arsenic. + +_The Administration of Mercury._--The success of the arsenical +preparations has diminished the importance of mercury in the treatment +of syphilis, but it is still used to supplement the effect of the +injections. The amount of mercury to be given in any case must be +proportioned to the idiosyncrasies of the patient, and it is advisable, +before commencing the treatment, to test his urine and record his +body-weight. The small amount of mercury given at the outset is +gradually increased. If the body-weight falls, or if the gums become +sore and the breath foul, the mercury should be stopped for a time. If +salivation occurs, the drinking of hot water and the taking of hot baths +should be insisted upon, and half-dram doses of the alkaline sulphates +prescribed. + +_Methods of Administering Mercury._--(1) _By the Mouth._--This was for +long the most popular method in this country, the preparation usually +employed being grey powder, in pills or tablets, each of which contains +one grain of the powder. Three of these are given daily in the first +instance, and the daily dose is increased to five or even seven grains +till the standard for the individual patient is arrived at. As the grey +powder alone sometimes causes irritation of the bowels, it should be +combined with iron, as in the following formula: Hydrarg. c. cret. gr. 1; +ferri sulph. exsiccat. gr. 1 or 2. + +(2) _By Inunction._--Inunction consists in rubbing into the pores of the +skin an ointment composed of equal parts of 20 per cent. oleate of +mercury and lanolin. Every night after a hot bath, a dram of the +ointment (made up by the chemist in paper packets) is rubbed for fifteen +minutes into the skin where it is soft and comparatively free from +hairs. When the patient has been brought under the influence of the +mercury, inunction may be replaced by one of the other methods, of +administering the drug. + +(3) _By Intra-muscular Injection._--This consists in introducing the +drug by means of a hypodermic syringe into the substance of the gluteal +muscles. The syringe is made of glass, and has a solid glass piston; the +needle of platino-iridium should be 5 cm. long and of a larger calibre +than the ordinary hypodermic needle. The preparation usually employed +consists of: metallic mercury or calomel 1 dram, lanolin and olive oil +each 2 drams; it must be warmed to allow of its passage through the +needle. Five minims--containing one grain of metallic mercury--represent +a dose, and this is injected into the muscles above and behind the great +trochanter once a week. The contents of the syringe are slowly +expressed, and, after withdrawing the needle, gentle massage of the +buttock should be employed. Four courses each of ten injections are +given the first year, three courses of the same number during the second +and third years, and two courses during the fourth year (Lambkin). + +_The General Health._--The patient must lead a regular life and +cultivate the fresh-air habit, which is as beneficial in syphilis as in +tuberculosis. Anaemia, malaria, and other sources of debility must +receive appropriate treatment. The diet should be simple and easily +digested, and should include a full supply of milk. Alcohol is +prohibited. The excretory organs are encouraged to act by the liberal +drinking of hot water between meals, say five or six tumblerfuls in the +twenty-four hours. The functions of the skin are further aided by +frequent hot baths, and by the wearing of warm underclothing. While the +patient should avoid exposure to cold, and taxing his energies by undue +exertion, he should be advised to take exercise in the open air. On +account of the liability to lesions of the mouth and throat, he should +use tobacco in moderation, his teeth should be thoroughly overhauled by +the dentist, and he should brush them after every meal, using an +antiseptic tooth powder or wash. The mouth and throat should be rinsed +out night and morning with a solution of chlorate of potash and alum, or +with peroxide of hydrogen. + +_Treatment of the Local Manifestations._--_The skin lesions_ are treated +on the same lines as similar eruptions of other origin. As local +applications, preparations of mercury are usually selected, notably the +ointments of the red oxide of mercury, ammoniated mercury, or oleate of +mercury (5 per cent.), or the mercurial plaster introduced by Unna. In +the treatment of condylomata the greatest attention must be paid to +cleanliness and dryness. After washing and drying the affected patches, +they are dusted with a powder consisting of equal parts of calomel and +carbonate of zinc; and apposed skin surfaces, such as the nates or +labia, are separated by sublimate wool. In the ulcers of later secondary +syphilis, crusts are got rid of in the first instance by means of a +boracic poultice, after which a piece of lint or gauze cut to the size +of the ulcer and soaked in black wash is applied and covered with +oil-silk. If the ulcer tends to spread in area or in depth, it should be +scraped with a sharp spoon, and painted over with acid nitrate of +mercury, or a local hyperaemia may be induced by Klapp's suction +apparatus. + +_In lesions of the mouth and throat_, the teeth should be attended to; +the best local application is a solution of chromic acid--10 grains to +the ounce--painted on with a brush once daily. If this fails, the +lesions may be dusted with calomel the last thing at night. For deep +ulcers of the throat the patient should gargle frequently with chlorine +water or with perchloride of mercury (1 in 2000); if the ulcer continues +to spread it should be painted with acid nitrate of mercury. + +In the treatment of _iritis_ the eyes are shaded from the light and +completely rested, and the pupil is well dilated by atropin to prevent +adhesions. If there is much pain, a blister may be applied to the +temple. + +_The Relations of Syphilis to Marriage._--Before the introduction of the +Ehrlich-Hata treatment no patient was allowed to marry until three years +had elapsed after the disappearance of the last manifestation. While +marriage might be entered upon under these conditions without risk of +the husband infecting the wife, the possibility of his conveying the +disease to the offspring cannot be absolutely excluded. It is +recommended, as a precautionary measure, to give a further mercurial +course of two or three months' duration before marriage, and an +intravenous injection of an arsenical preparation. + +#Intermediate Stage.#--After the dying away of the secondary +manifestations and before the appearance of tertiary lesions, the +patient may present certain symptoms which Hutchinson called +_reminders_. These usually consist of relapses of certain of the +affections of the skin, mouth, or throat, already described. In the +skin, they may assume the form of peeling patches in the palms, or may +appear as spreading and confluent circles of a scaly papular eruption, +which if neglected may lead to the formation of fissures and superficial +ulcers. Less frequently there is a relapse of the eye affections, or of +paralytic symptoms from disease of the cerebral arteries. + +#Tertiary Syphilis.#--While the manifestations of primary and secondary +syphilis are common, those of the tertiary period are by comparison +rare, and are observed chiefly in those who have either neglected +treatment or who have had their powers of resistance lowered by +privation, by alcoholic indulgence, or by tropical disease. + +It is to be borne in mind that in a certain proportion of men and in a +larger proportion of women, the patient has no knowledge of having +suffered from syphilis. Certain slight but important signs may give the +clue in a number of cases, such as irregularity of the pupils or failure +to react to light, abnormality of the reflexes, and the discovery of +patches of leucoplakia on the tongue, cheek, or palate. + +The _general character of tertiary manifestations_ may be stated as +follows: They attack by preference the tissues derived from the +mesoblastic layer of the embryo--the cellular tissue, bones, muscles, +and viscera. They are often localised to one particular tissue or organ, +such, for example, as the subcutaneous cellular tissue, the bones, or +the liver, and they are rarely symmetrical. They are usually aggressive +and persistent, with little tendency to natural cure, and they may be +dangerous to life, because of the destructive changes produced in such +organs as the brain or the larynx. They are remarkably amenable to +treatment if instituted before the stage which is attended with +destruction of tissue is reached. Early tertiary lesions may be +infective, and the disease may be transmitted by the discharges from +them; but the later the lesions the less is the risk of their containing +an infective virus. + +The most prominent feature of tertiary syphilis consists in the +formation of granulation tissue, and this takes place on a scale +considerably larger than that observed in lesions of the secondary +period. The granulation tissue frequently forms a definite swelling or +tumour-like mass (syphiloma), which, from its peculiar elastic +consistence, is known as a _gumma_. In its early stages a gumma is a +firm, semi-translucent greyish or greyish-red mass of tissue; later it +becomes opaque, yellow, and caseous, with a tendency to soften and +liquefy. The gumma does harm by displacing and replacing the normal +tissue elements of the part affected, and by involving these in the +degenerative changes, of the nature of caseation and necrosis, which +produce the destructive lesions of the skin, mucous membranes, and +internal organs. This is true not only of the circumscribed gumma, but +of the condition known as _gummatous infiltration_ or _syphilitic +cirrhosis_, in which the granulation tissue is diffused throughout the +connective-tissue framework of such organs as the tongue or liver. Both +the gummatous lesions and the fibrosis of tertiary syphilis are directly +excited by the spirochaetes. + +The life-history of an untreated gumma varies with its environment. When +protected from injury and irritation in the substance of an internal +organ such as the liver, it may become encapsulated by fibrous tissue, +and persist in this condition for an indefinite period, or it may be +absorbed and leave in its place a fibrous cicatrix. In the interior of a +long bone it may replace the rigid framework of the shaft to such an +extent as to lead to pathological fracture. If it is near the surface of +the body--as, for example, in the subcutaneous or submucous cellular +tissue, or in the periosteum of a superficial bone, such as the palate, +the skull, or the tibia--the tissue of which it is composed is apt to +undergo necrosis, in which the overlying skin or mucous membrane +frequently participates, the result being an ulcer--the tertiary +syphilitic ulcer (Figs. 40 and 41). + +_Tertiary Lesions of the Skin and Subcutaneous Cellular Tissue._--The +clinical features of a _subcutaneous gumma_ are those of an indolent, +painless, elastic swelling, varying in size from a pea to an almond or +walnut. After a variable period it usually softens in the centre, the +skin over it becomes livid and dusky, and finally separates as a slough, +exposing the tissue of the gumma, which sometimes appears as a mucoid, +yellowish, honey-like substance, more frequently as a sodden, caseated +tissue resembling wash-leather. The caseated tissue of a gumma differs +from that of a tuberculous lesion in being tough and firm, of a buff +colour like wash-leather, or whitish, like boiled fish. The degenerated +tissue separates slowly and gradually, and in untreated cases may be +visible for weeks in the floor of the ulcer. + +[Illustration: FIG. 40.--Ulcerating Gumma of Lips. + +(From a photograph lent by Dr. Stopford Taylor and Dr. R. W. Mackenna.)] + +_The tertiary ulcer_ may be situated anywhere, but is most frequently +met with on the leg, especially in the region of the knee (Fig. 42) and +over the calf. There may be one or more ulcers, and also scars of +antecedent ulcers. The edges are sharply cut, as if punched out; the +margins are rounded in outline, firm, and congested; the base is +occupied by gummatous tissue, or, if this has already separated and +sloughed out, by unhealthy granulations and a thick purulent discharge. +When the ulcer has healed it leaves a scar which is depressed, and if +over a bone, is adherent to it. The features of the tertiary ulcer, +however, are not always so characteristic as the above description would +imply. It is to be diagnosed from the "leg ulcer," which occurs almost +exclusively on the lower third of the leg; from Bazin's disease (p. 74); +from the ulcers that result from certain forms of malignant disease, +such as rodent cancer, and from those met with in chronic glanders. + +_Gummatous Infiltration of the Skin_ ("Syphilitic Lupus").--This is a +lesion, met with chiefly on the face and in the region of the external +genitals, in which the skin becomes infiltrated with granulation tissue +so that it is thickened, raised above the surface, and of a brownish-red +colour. It appears as isolated nodules, which may fuse together; the +epidermis becomes scaly and is shed, giving rise to superficial ulcers +which are usually covered by crusted discharge. The disease tends to +spread, creeping over the skin with a serpiginous, crescentic, or +horse-shoe margin, while the central portion may heal and leave a scar. +From the fact of its healing in the centre while it spreads at the +margin, it may resemble tuberculous disease of the skin. It can usually +be differentiated by observing that the infiltration is on a larger +scale; the progress is much more rapid, involving in the course of +months an area which in the case of tuberculosis would require as many +years; the scars are sounder and are less liable to break down again; +and the disease rapidly yields to anti-syphilitic treatment. + +[Illustration: FIG. 41.--Ulceration of nineteen year's duration +in a woman aet. 24, the subject of inherited syphilis, showing active +ulceration, cicatricial contraction, and sabre-blade deformity of +tibiae.] + +_Tertiary lesions of mucous membrane and of the submucous cellular +tissue_ are met with chiefly in the tongue, nose, throat, larynx, and +rectum. They originate as gummata or as gummatous infiltrations, which +are liable to break down and lead to the formation of ulcers which may +prove locally destructive, and, in such situations as the larynx, even +dangerous to life. In the tongue the tertiary ulcer may prove the +starting-point of cancer; and in the larynx or rectum the healing of the +ulcer may lead to cicatricial stenosis. + +Tertiary lesions of the _bones and joints_, of the _muscles_, and of the +_internal organs_, will be described under these heads. The part played +by syphilis in the production of disease of arteries and of aneurysm +will be referred to along with diseases of blood vessels. + +[Illustration: FIG. 42.--Tertiary Syphilitic Ulceration in region of +Knee and on both Thumbs of woman aet. 37.] + +_Treatment._--The most valuable drugs for the treatment of the +manifestations of the tertiary period are the arsenical preparations and +the iodides of sodium and potassium. On account of their depressing +effects, the latter are frequently prescribed along with carbonate of +ammonium. The dose is usually a matter of experiment in each individual +case; 5 grains three times a day may suffice, or it may be necessary to +increase each dose to 20 or 25 grains. The symptoms of iodism which may +follow from the smaller doses usually disappear on giving a larger +amount of the drug. It should be taken after meals, with abundant water +or other fluid, especially if given in tablet form. It is advisable to +continue the iodides for from one to three months after the lesions for +which they are given have cleared up. If the potassium salt is not +tolerated, it may be replaced by the ammonium or sodium iodide. + +_Local Treatment._--The absorption of a subcutaneous gumma is often +hastened by the application of a fly-blister. When a gumma has broken on +the surface and caused an ulcer, this is treated on general principles, +with a preference, however, for applications containing mercury or +iodine, or both. If a wet dressing is required to cleanse the ulcer, +black wash may be used; if a powder to promote dryness, one containing +iodoform; if an ointment is indicated, the choice lies between the red +oxide of mercury or the dilute nitrate of mercury ointment, and one +consisting of equal parts of lanolin and vaselin with 2 per cent. of +iodine. Deep ulcers, and obstinate lesions of the bones, larynx, and +other parts may be treated by excision or scraping with the sharp spoon. + +#Second Attacks of Syphilis.#--Instances of re-infection of syphilis +have been recorded with greater frequency since the more general +introduction of arsenical treatment. A remarkable feature in such cases +is the shortness of the interval between the original infection and the +alleged re-infection; in a recent series of twenty-eight cases, this +interval was less than a year. Another feature of interest is that when +patients in the tertiary stage of syphilis are inoculated with the virus +from lesions from these in the primary and secondary stage lesions of +the tertiary type are produced. + +Reference may be made to the #relapsing false indurated chancre#, +described by Hutchinson and by Fournier, as it may be the source of +difficulty in diagnosis. A patient who has had an infecting chancre one +or more years before, may present a slightly raised induration on the +penis at or close to the site of his original sore. This relapsed +induration is often so like that of a primary chancre that it is +impossible to distinguish between them, except by the history. If there +has been a recent exposure to venereal infection, it is liable to be +regarded as the primary lesion of a second attack of syphilis, but the +further progress shows that neither bullet-buboes nor secondary +manifestations develop. These facts, together with the disappearance of +the induration under treatment, make it very likely that the lesion is +really gummatous in character. + + +INHERITED SYPHILIS + +One of the most striking features of syphilis is that it may be +transmitted from infected parents to their offspring, the children +exhibiting the manifestations that characterise the acquired form of the +disease. + +The more recent the syphilis in the parent, the greater is the risk of +the disease being communicated to the offspring; so that if either +parent suffers from secondary syphilis the infection is almost +inevitably transmitted. + +While it is certain that either parent may be responsible for +transmitting the disease to the next generation, the method of +transmission is not known. In the case of a syphilitic mother it is most +probable that the infection is conveyed to the foetus by the placental +circulation. In the case of a syphilitic father, it is commonly believed +that the infection is conveyed to the ovum through the seminal fluid at +the moment of conception. If a series of children, one after the other, +suffer from inherited syphilis, it is almost invariably the case that +the mother has been infected. + +In contrast to the acquired form, inherited syphilis is remarkable for +the absence of any primary stage, the infection being a general one from +the outset. The spirochaete is demonstrated in incredible numbers in the +liver, spleen, lung, and other organs, and in the nasal secretion, and, +from any of these, successful inoculations in monkeys can readily be +made. The manifestations differ in degree rather than in kind from those +of the acquired disease; the difference is partly due to the fact that +the virus is attacking developing instead of fully formed tissues. + +The virus exercises an injurious influence on the foetus, which in many +cases dies during the early months of intra-uterine life, so that +miscarriage results, and this may take place in repeated pregnancies, +the date at which the miscarriage occurs becoming later as the virus in +the mother becomes attenuated. Eventually a child is carried to full +term, and it may be still-born, or, if born alive, may suffer from +syphilitic manifestations. It is difficult to explain such vagaries of +syphilitic inheritance as the infection of one twin and the escape of +the other. + +_Clinical Features._--We are not here concerned with the severe forms of +the disease which prove fatal, but with the milder forms in which the +infant is apparently healthy when born, but after from two to six weeks +begins to show evidence of the syphilitic taint. + +The usual phenomena are that the child ceases to thrive, becomes thin +and sallow, and suffers from eruptions on the skin and mucous membranes. +There is frequently a condition known as _snuffles_, in which the nasal +passages are obstructed by an accumulation of thin muco-purulent +discharge which causes the breathing to be noisy. It usually begins +within a month after birth and before the eruptions on the skin appear. +When long continued it is liable to interfere with the development of +the nasal bones, so that when the child grows up there results a +condition known as the "saddle-nose" deformity (Figs. 43 and 44). + +[Illustration: FIG. 43.--Facies of Inherited Syphilis. + +(From Dr. Byrom Bramwell's _Atlas of Clinical Medicine_.)] + +_Affections of the Skin._--Although all types of skin affection are met +with in the inherited disease, the most important is a _papular_ +eruption, the papules being of large size, with a smooth shining top and +of a reddish-brown colour. It affects chiefly the buttocks and thighs, +the genitals, and other parts which are constantly moist. It is +necessary to distinguish this specific eruption from a form of eczema +which occurs in these situations in non-syphilitic children, the points +that characterise the syphilitic condition being the infiltration of the +skin and the coppery colour of the eruption. At the anus the papules +acquire the characters of _condylomata_, also at the angles of the +mouth, where they often ulcerate and leave radiating scars. + +_Affections of the Mucous Membranes._--The inflammation of the nasal +mucous membrane that causes snuffles has already been referred to. There +may be mucous patches in the mouth, or a stomatitis which is of +importance, because it results in interference with the development of +the permanent teeth. The mucous membrane of the larynx may be the seat +of mucous patches or of catarrh, and as a result the child's cry is +hoarse. + +_Affections of the Bones._--Swellings at the ends of the long bones, due +to inflammation at the epiphysial junctions, are most often observed at +the upper end of the humerus and in the bones in the region of the +elbow. Partial displacement and mobility at the ossifying junction may +be observed. The infant cries when the part is touched; and as it does +not move the limb voluntarily, the condition is spoken of as _the +pseudo-paralysis of syphilis_. Recovery takes place under +anti-syphilitic treatment and immobilisation of the limb. + +Diffuse thickening of the shafts of the long bones, due to a deposit of +new bone by the periosteum, is sometimes met with. + +[Illustration: FIG. 44.--Facies of Inherited Syphilis.] + +The conditions of the skull known as Parrot's nodes or bosses, and +craniotabes, were formerly believed to be characteristic of inherited +syphilis, but they are now known to occur, particularly in rickety +children, from other causes. The _bosses_ result from the heaping up of +new spongy bone beneath the pericranium, and they may be grouped +symmetrically around the anterior fontanelle, or may extend along either +side of the sagittal suture, which appears as a deep groove--the +"natiform skull." The bosses disappear in time, but the skull may remain +permanently altered in shape, the frontal and parietal eminences +appearing unduly prominent. The term _craniotabes_ is applied when the +bone becomes thin and soft, reverting to its original membranous +condition, so that the affected areas dimple under the finger like +parchment or thin cardboard; its localisation in the posterior parts of +the skull suggests that the disappearance of the osseous tissue is +influenced by the pressure of the head on the pillow. Craniotabes is +recovered from as the child improves in health. + +Between the ages of three and six months, certain other phenomena may be +met with, such as _effusion into the joints_, especially the knees; +_iritis_, in one or in both eyes, and enlargement of the spleen and +liver. + +In the majority of cases the child recovers from these early +manifestations, especially when efficiently treated, and may enjoy an +indefinite period of good health. On the other hand, when it attains the +age of from two to four years, it may begin to manifest lesions which +correspond to those of the tertiary period of acquired syphilis. + +#Later Lesions.#--In the skin and subcutaneous tissue, the later +manifestations may take the form of localised gummata, which tend to +break down and form ulcers, on the leg for example, or of a spreading +gummatous infiltration which is also liable to ulcerate, leaving +disfiguring scars, especially on the face. The palate and fauces may be +destroyed by ulceration. In the nose, especially when the ulcerative +process is associated with a putrid discharge--ozaena--the destruction of +tissue may be considerable and result in unsightly deformity. The entire +palatal portions of the upper jaws, the vomer, turbinate, and other +bones bounding the nasal and oral cavities, may disappear, so that on +looking into the mouth the base of the skull is readily seen. Gummatous +disease is frequently observed also in the flat bones of the skull, in +the bones of the hand, as syphilitic dactylitis, and in the bones of the +forearm and leg. When the tibia is affected the disease is frequently +bilateral, and may assume the form of gummatous ulcers and sinuses. In +later years the tibia may present alterations in shape resulting from +antecedent gummatous disease--for example, nodular thickenings of the +shaft, flattening of the crest, or a more uniform increase in thickness +and length of the shaft of the bone, which, when it is curved in +addition, is described as the "sabre-blade" deformity. Among lesions of +the viscera, mention should be made of gumma of the testis, which causes +the organ to become enlarged, uneven, and indurated. This has even been +observed in infants a few months old. + +Occasionally a syphilitic child suffers from a succession of these +gummatous lesions with resulting ill-health, and, it may be, waxy +disease of the internal organs; on the other hand, it may recover and +present no further manifestations of the inherited taint. + +_Affections of the Eyes._--At or near puberty there is frequently +observed an affection of the eyes, known as _chronic interstitial +keratitis_, the relationship of which to inherited syphilis was first +established by Hutchinson. It occurs between the ages of six and sixteen +years, and usually affects one eye before the other. It commences as a +diffuse haziness or steaminess near the centre of the cornea, and as it +spreads the entire cornea assumes the appearance of ground glass. The +chief complaint is of dimness of sight, which may almost amount to +blindness, but there is little pain or photophobia; a certain amount of +conjunctival and ciliary congestion is usually present, and there may be +_iritis_ in addition. The cornea, or parts of it, may become of a deep +pink or salmon colour from the formation in it of new blood vessels. The +affection may last for from eighteen months to two years. Complete +recovery usually takes place, but slight opacities, especially in the +site of former salmon patches, may persist, and the disease occasionally +relapses. _Choroiditis_ and _retinitis_ may also occur, and leave +permanent changes easily recognised on examination with the +ophthalmoscope. + +Among the rarer and more serious lesions of the inherited disease may be +mentioned gummatous disease in the _larynx and trachea_, attended with +ulceration and resulting in stenosis; and lesions of the _nervous +system_ which may result in convulsions, paralysis, or dementia. + +In a limited number of cases, about the period of puberty there may +develop _deafness_, which is usually bilateral and may become absolute. + +_Changes in the Permanent Teeth._--These affect specially the upper +central incisors, which are dwarfed and stand somewhat apart in the gum, +with their free edges converging towards one another. They are tapering +or peg-shaped, and present at their cutting margin a deep semilunar +notch. These appearances are commonly associated with the name of +Hutchinson, who first described them. Affecting as they do the +permanent teeth, they are not available for diagnosis until the child is +over eight years of age. Henry Moon drew attention to a change in the +first molars; these are reduced in size and dome-shaped through dwarfing +of the central tubercle of each cusp. + +#Diagnosis of Inherited Syphilis.#--When there is a typical eruption on +the buttocks and snuffles there is no difficulty in recognising the +disease. When, however, the rash is scanty or is obscured by co-existing +eczema, most reliance should be placed on the distribution of the +eruption, on the brown stains which are left after it has passed off, on +the presence of condylomata, and of fissuring and scarring at the angles +of the mouth. The history of the mother relative to repeated +miscarriages and still-born children may afford confirmatory evidence. +In doubtful cases, the diagnosis may be aided by the Wassermann test and +by noting the therapeutic effects of grey powder, which, in syphilitic +infants, usually effects a marked and rapid improvement both in the +symptoms and in the general health. + +While a considerable number of syphilitic children grow up without +showing any trace of their syphilitic inheritance, the majority retain +throughout life one or more of the following characteristics, which may +therefore be described as _permanent signs of the inherited disease_: +Dwarfing of stature from interference with growth at the epiphysial +junctions; the forehead low and vertical, and the parietal and frontal +eminences unduly prominent; the bridge of the nose sunken and rounded; +radiating scars at the angles of the mouth; perforation or destruction +of the hard palate; Hutchinson's teeth; opacities of the cornea from +antecedent keratitis; alterations in the fundus oculi from choroiditis; +deafness; depressed scars or nodes on the bones from previous gummata; +"sabre-blade" or other deformity of the tibiae. + +#The Contagiousness of Inherited Syphilis.#--In 1837, Colles of Dublin +stated his belief that, while a syphilitic infant may convey the disease +to a healthy wet nurse, it is incapable of infecting its own mother if +nursed by her, even although she may never have shown symptoms of the +disease. This doctrine, which is known as _Colles' law_, is generally +accepted in spite of the alleged occurrence of occasional exceptions. +The older the child, the less risk there is of its communicating the +disease to others, until eventually the tendency dies out altogether, as +it does in the tertiary period of acquired syphilis. It should be +added, however, that the contagiousness of inherited syphilis is denied +by some observers, who affirm that, when syphilitic infants prove +infective, the disease has been really acquired at or soon after birth. + +There is general agreement that the subjects of inherited syphilis +cannot transmit the disease by inheritance to their offspring, and that, +although they very rarely acquire the disease _de novo_, it is possible +for them to do so. + +#Prognosis of Inherited Syphilis.#--Although inherited syphilis is +responsible for a large but apparently diminishing mortality in infancy, +the subjects of this disease may grow up to be as strong and healthy as +their neighbours. Hutchinson insisted on the fact that there is little +bad health in the general community that can be attributed to inherited +syphilis. + +#Treatment.#--Arsenical injections are as beneficial in the inherited as +in the acquired disease. An infant the subject of inherited syphilis +should, if possible, be nursed by its mother, and failing this it should +be fed by hand. In infants at the breast, the drug may be given to the +mother; in others, it is administered in the same manner as already +described--only in smaller doses. On the first appearance of syphilitic +manifestations it should be given 0.05 grm, novarsenbillon, injected +into the deep subcutaneous tissues every week for six weeks, followed by +one year's mercurial inunction--a piece of mercurial ointment the size +of a pea being inserted under the infant's binder. In older children the +dose is proportionately increased. The general health should be improved +in every possible direction; considerable benefit may be derived from +the use of cod-liver oil, and from preparations containing iron and +calcium. Surgical interference may be required in the destructive +gummatous lesions of the nose, throat, larynx, and bones, either with +the object of arresting the spread of the disease, or of removing or +alleviating the resulting deformities. In children suffering from +keratitis, the eyes should be protected from the light by smoked or +coloured glasses, and the pupils should be dilated with atropin from +time to time, especially in cases complicated with iritis. + +#Acquired Syphilis in Infants and Young Children.#--When syphilis is met +with in infants and young children, it is apt to be taken for granted +that the disease has been inherited. It is possible, however, for them +to acquire the disease--as, for example, while passing through the +maternal passages during birth, through being nursed or kissed by +infected women, or through the rite of circumcision. The risk of +infection which formerly existed by the arm-to-arm method of +vaccination has been abolished by the use of calf lymph. + +The clinical features of the acquired disease in infants and young +children are similar to those observed in the adult, with a tendency, +however, to be more severe, probably because the disease is often late +in being recognised and treated. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +TUMOURS[2] + + +Definition--Etiology--General characters of innocent and malignant + tumours. CLASSIFICATION OF TUMOURS: I. Connective-tissue tumours: + (1) _Innocent_: _Lipoma_, _Xanthoma_, _Chondroma_, _Osteoma_, + _Odontoma_, _Fibroma_, _Myxoma_, _Endothelioma_, etc.; (2) + _Malignant_: _Sarcoma_--II. Epithelial tumours: (1) _Innocent_: + _Papilloma_, _Adenoma_, _Cystic Adenoma_; (2) _Malignant_: + _Epithelioma_, _Glandular Cancer_, _Rodent Cancer_, _Melanotic + Cancer_--III. Dermoids--IV. Teratoma. Cysts: _Retention_, + _Exudation_, _Implantation_, _Parasitic_, _Lymphatic or Serous_. + Ganglion. + +[2] For the histology of tumours the reader is referred to a text-book +of pathology. + +A tumour or neoplasm is a localised swelling composed of newly formed +tissue which fulfils no physiological function. Tumours increase in size +quite independently of the growth of the body, and there is no natural +termination to their growth. They are to be distinguished from such +over-growths as are of the nature of simple hypertrophy or local +giantism, and also from inflammatory swellings, which usually develop +under the influence of a definite cause, have a natural termination, and +tend to disappear when the cause ceases to act. + +The _etiology of tumours_ is imperfectly understood. Various factors, +acting either singly or in combination, may be concerned in their +development. Certain tumours, for example, are the result of some +congenital malformation of the particular tissue from which they take +origin. This would appear to be the case in many tumours of blood +vessels (angioma), of cartilage (chondroma), of bone (osteoma), and of +secreting gland tissue (adenoma). The theory that tumours originate from +foetal residues or "rests," is associated with the name of Cohnheim. +These rests are supposed to be undifferentiated embryonic cells which +remain embedded amongst fully formed tissue elements, and lie dormant +until they are excited into active growth and give rise to a tumour. +This mode of origin is illustrated by the development of dermoids from +sequestrated portions of epidermis. + +Among the local factors concerned in the development of tumours, +reference must be made to the influence of irritation. This is probably +an important agent in the causation of many of the tumours met with in +the skin and in mucous membranes--for example, cancer of the skin, of +the lip, and of the tongue. The part played by injury is doubtful. It +not infrequently happens that the development of a tumour is preceded by +an injury of the part in which it grows, but it does not necessarily +follow that the injury and the tumour are related as cause and effect. +It is possible that an injury may stimulate into active growth +undifferentiated tissue elements or "rests," and so determine the growth +of a tumour, or that it may alter the characters of a tumour which +already exists, causing it to grow more rapidly. + +The popular belief that there is some constitutional peculiarity +concerned in the causation of tumours is largely based on the fact that +certain forms of new growth--for example, cancer--are known to occur +with undue frequency in certain families. The same influence is more +striking in the case of certain innocent tumours--particularly multiple +osteomas and lipomas--which are hereditary in the same sense as +supernumerary or webbed fingers, and appear in members of the same +family through several generations. + + +INNOCENT AND MALIGNANT TUMOURS + +For clinical purposes, tumours are arbitrarily divided into two +classes--the innocent and the malignant. The outstanding difference +between them is, that while the evil effects of innocent tumours are +entirely local and depend for their severity on the environment of the +growth, malignant tumours wherever situated, in addition to producing +similar local effects, injure the general health and ultimately cause +death. + +_Innocent_, benign, or simple tumours present a close structural +resemblance to the normal tissues of the body. They grow slowly, and are +usually definitely circumscribed by a fibrous capsule, from which they +are easily enucleated, and they do not tend to recur after removal. In +their growth they merely push aside and compress adjacent parts, and +they present no tendency to ulcerate and bleed unless the overlying skin +or mucous membrane is injured. Although usually solitary, some are +multiple from the outset--for example, fatty, fibrous, and bony tumours, +warts, and fibroid tumours of the uterus. They produce no constitutional +disturbance. They only threaten life when growing in the vicinity of +vital organs, and then only in virtue of their situation--for example, +death may result from an innocent tumour in the air-passage causing +suffocation, in the intestine causing obstruction of the bowels, or in +the vertebral canal causing pressure on the spinal medulla. + +_Malignant tumours_ usually show a marked departure from the structure +and arrangement of the normal tissues of the body. Although the cells of +which they are composed are derived from normal tissue cells, they tend +to take on a lower, more vegetative form; they may be regarded as +parasites living at the expense of the organism, multiplying +indefinitely and destroying everything with which they come in contact. + +Malignant tumours grow more rapidly than innocent tumours, and tend to +infiltrate their surroundings by sending out prolongations or offshoots; +they are therefore liable to recur after an operation which is +restricted to the removal of the main tumour. They are not encapsulated, +although they may appear to be circumscribed by condensation of the +surrounding tissues; they are rarely multiple at the outset, but show a +marked tendency to spread to other parts of the body. Fragments of the +parent tumour may become separated and be carried off in the lymph or +blood-stream and deposited in other parts of the body, where they give +rise to secondary growths. Malignant tumours tend to invade and destroy +the overlying skin or mucous membrane, and thus give rise to bleeding +ulcers; if the tumour tissue protrudes through the gap in the skin, it +is said to _fungate_. In course of time they give rise to a condition of +ill-health or _cachexia_, the patient becoming pale, sallow, feverish, +and emaciated, probably as a result of chronic poisoning from the +absorption of toxic products from the tumour. They ultimately destroy +life, it may be by their local effects, such as ulceration and +haemorrhage, by favouring the entrance of septic infection, by +interfering with the function of organs which are essential to life, by +cachexia, or by a combination of these effects. + +The situation of a malignant tumour exercises considerable influence on +the rapidity, as well as on the mode, in which it causes death. Some +cancers, such as that known as "rodent," show malignant features which +are entirely local, while others, such as melanotic cancer, exhibit a +malignancy characterised by rapid generalisation of growths throughout +the body. Tumours that are structurally alike may show variations in +malignancy, according to their situation and to the age of the patient, +as well as to other factors which are as yet unknown. + +In attempting to arrive at a conclusion as to the innocence or +malignancy of any tumour, too much reliance must not be placed on its +histological features; its situation, rate of growth, and other clinical +features must also be taken into consideration. It cannot be too +emphatically stated that there is no hard-and-fast line between innocent +and malignant growths; there is an indefinite transition from one to the +other. The possibility of the transformation of a benign into a +malignant tumour must be admitted. Such a transformation implies a +change in the structure of the growth, and has been observed especially +in fibrous and cartilaginous tumours, in tumours of the thyreoid gland, +and in uterine fibroids. The alteration in character may take place +under the influence of injury, prolonged or repeated irritation, +incomplete removal of the benign tumour by operation, or the altered +physiological conditions of the tissues which attend upon advancing +years. + +After a tumour has been removed by operation it should as a routine +measure be subjected to microscopical examination; the results are often +instructive and sometimes other than what was expected. + +#Varieties of Tumours.#--In the following description, tumours are +classified on an anatomical basis, taking in order first the +connective-tissue group and subsequently those that originate in +epithelium. + + +INNOCENT CONNECTIVE-TISSUE TUMOURS + +#Lipoma.#--A lipoma is composed of fat resembling that normally present +in the body. The commonest variety is the _subcutaneous lipoma_, which +grows from the subcutaneous fat, and forms a soft, irregularly lobulated +tumour (Fig. 45). The fat is arranged in lobules separated by +connective-tissue septa, which are continuous with the capsule +surrounding the tumour and with the overlying skin, which becomes +dimpled or puckered when an attempt is made to pinch it up. As the fat +is almost fluid at the body temperature, fluctuation can usually be +detected. These tumours vary greatly in size, occur at all ages, grow +slowly, and, while generally solitary, are sometimes multiple. They are +most commonly met with on the shoulder, buttock, or back. In certain +situations, such as the thigh and perineum, they tend to become +pedunculated (Fig. 46). + +A fatty tumour is to be diagnosed from a cold abscess and from a cyst. +The distinguishing features of the lipoma are the tacking down and +dimpling of the overlying skin, the lobulation of the tumour, which is +recognised when it is pressed upon with the flat of the hand, and, more +reliable than either of these, the mobility, the tumour slipping away +when pressed upon at its margin. + +[Illustration: FIG. 45.--Subcutaneous Lipoma showing lobulation.] + +The prognosis is more favourable than in any other tumour as it never +changes its characters; the only reasons for its removal by operation +are its unsightliness and its probable increase in size in the course of +years. The operation consists in dividing the skin and capsule over the +tumour and shelling it out. Care must be taken that none of the outlying +lobules are left behind. If the overlying skin is damaged or closely +adherent, it should be removed along with the tumour. + +[Illustration: FIG. 46.--Pedunculated Lipoma of Buttock of forty years' +duration in a woman aet. 68.] + +_Multiple subcutaneous lipomas_ are frequently symmetrical, and in a +certain group of cases, met with chiefly in women, pain is a prominent +symptom, hence the term _adiposis dolorosa_ (Dercum). These multiple +tumours show little or no tendency to increase in size, and the pain +which attends their development does not persist. + +In the neck, axilla, and pubes a diffuse overgrowth of the subcutaneous +fat is sometimes met with, forming symmetrical tumour-like masses, known +as _diffuse lipoma_. As this is not, strictly speaking, a tumour, the +term _diffuse lipomatosis_ is to be preferred. A similar condition was +described by Jonathan Hutchinson as being met with in the domestic +animals. If causing disfigurement, the mass of fat may be removed by +operation. + +[Illustration: FIG. 47.--Diffuse Lipomatosis of Neck.] + +_Lipoma in other Situations._--The _periosteal lipoma_ is usually +congenital, and is most often met with in the hand; it forms a +projecting lobulated tumour, which, when situated in the palm, resembles +an angioma or a lymphangioma. The _subserous lipoma_ arises from the +extra-peritoneal fat in the posterior abdominal wall, in which case it +tends to grow forwards between the layers of the mesentery and to give +rise to an abdominal tumour; or it may grow from the extra-peritoneal +fat in the anterior abdominal wall and protrude from one of the hernial +openings or through an abnormal opening in the parietes, constituting a +_fatty hernia_. A _subsynovial lipoma_ grows from the fat surrounding +the synovial membrane of a joint, and projects into its interior, giving +rise to the symptoms of loose body. Lipomas are also met with growing +from the adipose connective tissue _between or in the substance of +muscles_, and, when situated beneath the deep fascia, such as the fascia +lata of the thigh, the characteristic signs are obscured and a +differential diagnosis is difficult. It may be differentiated from a +cold abscess by puncture with an exploring needle. + +[Illustration: FIG. 48.--Zanthoma of Hands in a girl aet. 14, showing +multiple subcutaneous tumours (cf. Fig. 49). + +(Sir H. J. Stiles' case.)] + +#Zanthoma# is a rare but interesting form of tumour, composed of a +fibrous and fatty tissue, containing a granular orange-yellow pigment, +resembling that of the corpus luteum. It originates in the corium and +presents two clinical varieties. In the first of these, it occurs in the +form of raised yellow patches, usually in the skin of the eyelids of +persons after middle life, and in many instances is associated with +chronic jaundice; the patches are often symmetrical, and as they +increase in size they tend to fuse with another. + +The second form occurs in children and adolescents; it may affect +several generations of the same family, and is often multiple, there +being a combination of thickened yellow patches of skin and projecting +tumours, some of which may attain a considerable size (Figs. 48 and 49). +On section, the tumour tissue presents a brilliant orange or saffron +colour. + +There is no indication for removing the tumours unless for the deformity +which they cause; exposure to the X-rays is to be preferred to +operation. + +[Illustration: FIG. 49.--Zanthoma showing Subcutaneous Tumours on +Buttocks. From same patient as Fig. 48.] + +#Chondroma.#--A chondroma is mainly composed of cartilage. Processes of +vascular connective tissue pass in between the nodules of cartilage +composing the tumour from the fibrous capsule which surrounds it. On +section it is of a greyish-blue colour and semi-translucent. The tumour +is firm and elastic in consistence, but certain portions may be densely +hard from calcification or ossification, while other portions may be +soft and fluctuating as a result of myxomatous degeneration and +liquefaction. These tumours grow slowly and painlessly, and may surround +nerves and arteries without injuring them. They may cause a deep hollow +in the bone from which they originate. All intermediate forms between +the innocent chondroma and the malignant chondro-sarcoma are met with. +Chondroma may occur in a multiple form, especially in relation to the +phalanges and metacarpal bones. When growing in the interior of a bone +it causes a spindle-shaped enlargement of the shaft, which in the case +of a phalanx or metacarpal bone may resemble the dactylitis resulting +from tubercle or syphilis. A chondroma appears as a clear area in a +skiagram. + +A _skiagram_ of a bone in which there is a chondroma shows a clear +rounded area in the position of the tumour, which must be differentiated +from similar clear areas due to other kinds of tumour, especially the +myeloma; when it has undergone calcification or ossification, it gives a +shadow as dark as bone. + +[Illustration: FIG. 50.--Chondroma growing from infraspinous fossa of +Scapula.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 51.--Chondroma of Metacarpal Bone of Thumb.] + +_Treatment._--In view of the unstable quality of the chondroma, +especially of its liability to become malignant, it should be removed as +soon as it is recognised. In those projecting from the surface of a +bone, both the tumour and its capsule should be removed. If in the +interior, a sufficient amount of the cortex should be removed to allow +of the tumour being scraped out, and care must be taken that no nodules +of cartilage are left behind. In multiple chondromas of the hand, when +the fingers are crippled and useless, exposure to the X-rays should be +given a trial, and in extreme cases the question of amputation may have +to be considered. When a cartilaginous tumour takes on active growth, it +must be treated as malignant. + +The chondromas that are met with at the ends of the long bones in +children and young adults form a group by themselves. They are usually +related to the epiphysial cartilage, and it was suggested by Virchow +that they take origin from islands of cartilage which have not been used +up in the process of ossification. They are believed to occur more +frequently in those who have suffered from rickets. They have no +malignant tendencies and tend to undergo ossification concurrently with +the epiphysial cartilage from which they take origin, and constitute +what are known as _cartilaginous exostoses_. These are sometimes met +with in a multiple form, and may occur in several generations of the +same family. They are considered in greater detail in the chapter +dealing with tumours of bone. + +Minute nodules of cartilage sometimes form in the synovial membrane of +joints and lining of tendon sheaths and bursae: they tend to become +detached from the membrane and constitute loose bodies; they also +undergo a variable amount of calcification and ossification, so as to be +visible in skiagrams. They are further considered with loose bodies in +joints. + +Cartilaginous tumours in the parotid, submaxillary gland, and testicle +belong to a class of "mixed tumours" that will be referred to later. + +#Osteoma.#--The true osteoma is composed of bony tissue, and originates +from the skeleton. Two varieties are recognised--the spongy or +cancellous, and the ivory or compact. The _spongy_ or _cancellous +osteoma_ is really an ossified chondroma, and is met with at the ends of +the long bones (Fig. 52). From the fact that it projects from the +surface of the bone it is often spoken of as an _exostosis_. It grows +slowly, and rarely causes any discomfort unless it presses upon a +nerve-trunk or upon a bursa which has developed over it. The Rontgen +rays show a dark shadow corresponding to the ossified portion of the +tumour, and continuous with that of the bone from which it is growing +(Fig. 138). Operative interference is only indicated when the tumour is +giving rise to inconvenience. It is then removed, its base or neck being +divided by means of the chisel. The multiple variety of osteoma is +considered with the diseases of bone. + +The bony outgrowth from the terminal phalanx of the great toe--known as +the _subungual exostosis_--is described and figured on p. 404. Bony +projections or "spurs" sometimes occur on the under surface of the +calcaneus, and, projecting downwards and forwards from the greater +process, cause pain on putting the heel to the ground. + +[Illustration: FIG. 52.--Cancellous Osteoma of lower end of Femur.] + +The _ivory_ or _compact osteoma_ is composed of dense bone, and usually +grows from the skull. It is generally sessile and solitary, and may grow +into the interior of the skull, into the frontal sinus, into the cavity +of the orbit or nose, or may fill up the external auditory meatus, +causing most unsightly deformity and interference with sight, breathing, +and hearing. + +Bony formations occur in _muscles and tendons_, especially at their +points of attachment to the skeleton, and are known as false exostoses; +they are described with the diseases of muscles. + +#Odontoma.#--An odontoma is composed of dental tissues in varying +proportions and different degrees of development, arising from +tooth-germs or from teeth still in process of growth (Bland Sutton). +Odontomas resemble teeth in so far that during their development they +remain hidden below the mucous membrane and give no evidence of their +existence. There then succeeds, usually between the twentieth and +twenty-fifth years, an eruptive stage, which is often attended with +suppuration, and this may be the means of drawing attention to the +tumour. Following Bland Sutton, several varieties of odontoma may be +distinguished according to the part of the tooth-germ concerned in their +formation. + +The _epithelial odontoma_ is derived from persistent portions of the +epithelium of the enamel organ, and constitutes a multilocular cystic +tumour which is chiefly met with in the mandible. The cystic spaces of +the tumour contain a brownish glairy fluid. These tumours have been +described by Eve under the name of multilocular cystic epithelial +tumours of the jaw. + +The _follicular odontoma_, also known as a _dentigerous cyst_, is +derived from the distension of a tooth follicle. It constitutes a cyst +containing a viscid fluid, and an imperfectly formed tooth is often +found embedded in its wall. The cyst usually forms in relation to one of +the permanent molars, and may attain considerable dimensions. + +The _fibrous odontoma_ is the result of an overgrowth of fibrous tissue +surrounding the tooth sac, which encapsulates the tooth and prevents its +eruption. The thickened tooth sac is usually mistaken for a fibrous +tumour, until, after removal, the tooth is recognised in its interior. + +_Composite Odontoma._--This is a convenient term to apply to certain +hard dental tumours which are met with in the jaws, and consist of +enamel, dentine, and cement. The tumour is to be regarded as being +derived from an abnormal growth of all the elements of a tooth germ, or +of two or more tooth germs, indiscriminately fused with one another. It +may appear in childhood, and form a smooth unyielding tumour, often of +considerable size, replacing the corresponding permanent tooth. It may +cause a purulent discharge, and in some cases it has been extruded after +sloughing of the overlying soft parts. Many examples of this variety of +odontoma, growing in the nasal cavity or in the maxillary sinus, have +been erroneously regarded as osteomas even after removal. + +On section, the tumour is usually laminated, and is seen to consist +mainly of dentine with a partial covering of enamel and cement. + +_Diagnosis._--Odontomas are often only diagnosed after removal. When +attended with suppuration, the condition has been mistaken for disease +of the jaw. Fibrous odontomas have been mistaken for sarcoma, and +portions of the maxilla removed unnecessarily. Any circumscribed tumour +of the jaw, particularly when met with in a young adult, should suggest +the possibility of an odontoma. Skiagrams often give useful information +both for diagnosis and for treatment. + +_Treatment._--The solid varieties of odontoma can usually be shelled out +after dividing the overlying soft parts. In the follicular variety, it +is usually sufficient to excise a portion of the wall, scrape out the +interior, and remove any tooth that may be present. The cavity is then +packed and allowed to heal from the bottom. + +#Fibroma.#--A fibroma is a tumour composed of fibrous connective tissue. +A distinction may be made between the _soft fibroma_, which is +comparatively rich in cells and blood vessels, and in which the fibres +are arranged loosely; and the _hard fibroma_, which is composed of +closely packed bundles of fibres often arranged in a concentric fashion +around the blood vessels. The cut surface of the soft fibroma presents a +pinkish-white, fleshy appearance, resembling the slowly growing forms of +sarcoma; that of a hard fibroma presents a dry, glistening appearance, +aptly compared to watered silk. The soft variety grows much more rapidly +than the hard. In certain fibromas--in those, for example, which grow +from the periosteum of the base of the skull and project into the +naso-pharynx--the blood vessels are dilated into sinuses and have no +proper sheaths; they therefore tend to remain open when divided, and to +bleed excessively. Transition forms between soft fibroma and sarcoma are +met with, so that in operating for their removal it is safer to take +away the capsule along with the tumour, and the patient should be kept +under observation in view of the risk of recurrence. + +The skin--especially the skin of the buttock--is one of the favourite +seats of fibroma, and it may occur in a multiple form. It is met with +also in the subcutaneous and intermuscular cellular tissue, and in the +abdominal wall, where it sometimes attains considerable dimensions. +Various forms of fibroma are met with in the mamma and are described +with diseases of that organ. The fibrous overgrowths in the skin, known +as _keloid_ and _molluscum fibrosum_, and those met with in the _sheaths +of nerves_, are described elsewhere. Fibroid tumours of the uterus are +described with myoma. + +_Diffuse fibroma_ or _Fibromatosis_, analogous to lipomatosis, is met +with in the connective tissue of the skin and sheaths of nerves, and +constitutes one form of neuro-fibromatosis; a similar change is also met +with in the stomach and colon. + +#Myxoma.#--A myxoma is composed of tissue of a soft gelatinous, +semifluid consistence. The pure myxoma is extremely rare, and +clinically resembles the lipoma. Myxomatous tissue is, however, +frequently found in other connective-tissue tumours as a result of +degeneration, for example, in cartilaginous tumours and in sarcomas. +Myxomatous tissue is also a prominent constituent of the "innocent +parotid tumour." Mucous polypus of the nose, which is often described as +a myxoma, is merely a pendulous process of oedematous mucous membrane. + +[Illustration: FIG. 53.--Myeloma of Shaft of Humerus, causing +pathological fracture. (Mr. J. W. Struthers' case.) + +(The unusual site of the tumour is to be noted.)] + +#Myeloma.#--A myeloma is composed of large multinuclear giant cells +surrounded by round and spindle cells. The cut surface of the tumour +presents a deep red or maroon colour. While occasionally met with in +tendon sheaths and bursae, and is then of an orange-yellow colour, the +myeloma occurs most frequently in the cancellous tissue at the ends of +the long bones, its favourite site being the upper end of the tibia. +Although formerly classified as a sarcoma, it is the exception for it to +present malignant features, and it can usually be extirpated by local +measures without fear of recurrence. The diagnosis, X-ray appearances, +and the method of removal are considered with the diseases of bone. +Sometimes the myeloma is met with in multiple form in the skeleton, in +association with an unusual form of protein in the urine (Bence Jones). + +#Myoma.#--A myoma is composed of non-striped muscle fibres. A pure myoma +is very rare, and is met with in organs possessed of non-striped muscle, +such as the stomach, intestine, urinary bladder, and prostate. In the +uterus, which is the most common situation, these tumours contain a +considerable admixture of fibrous tissue, and are known as _fibroids_ or +_fibro-myomas_. They present on section a fasciculated appearance, which +may resemble that of a section of balls of cotton (Fig. 54). They are +encapsulated and vascular, frequently attain a large size, and may be +single or multiple. While they may occasion neither inconvenience nor +suffering, they frequently give rise to profuse haemorrhage from the +uterus, and may cause serious symptoms by pressing injuriously on the +ureters or the intestine, or by complicating pregnancy and parturition. + +The #Rhabdomyoma# is an extremely rare form of tumour, met with in the +kidney, uterus, and testicle. It contains striped muscle fibres, and is +supposed to originate from a residue of muscular tissue which has become +sequestrated during development. + +[Illustration: FIG. 54.--Fibro-myoma of Uterus. + +(Anatomical Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + +#Glioma.#--A glioma is a tumour composed of neuroglia. It is met with +exclusively in the central nervous system, retina, and optic nerve. It +is a slowly growing, soft, ill-defined tumour, which displaces the +adjacent nerve centres and nerve tracts, and is liable to become the +seat of haemorrhage and thus to give rise to pressure symptoms resembling +apoplexy. The glioma of the retina tends to grow into the vitreous +humour and to perforate the globe. It is usually of the nature of a +glio-sarcoma and is highly malignant. + +#Endotheliomas# take origin from the endothelium of lymph vessels and +blood vessels, and serous cavities. They show great variation in type, +partly because of the number of different kinds of endothelium from +which they are derived, and partly because the new connective tissue +which is formed is liable to undergo transformation into other tissues. +They may be soft or hard, solid or cystic, diffuse or circumscribed; +they grow very slowly, and are almost always innocent, although +recurrence has been occasionally observed. Cases of multiple +endotheliomata of the skin have recently been described by Wise. + +_Angioma_, _lymphangioma_, and _neuroma_ are described with the disease +of the individual tissues. + + +MALIGNANT CONNECTIVE-TISSUE TUMOURS--SARCOMA + +The term sarcoma is applied to any connective-tissue tumour which +exhibits malignant characters. The essential structural feature is the +predominance of the cellular elements over the intercellular substance +or stroma, in which respect a sarcoma resembles the connective tissue of +the embryo. The typical sarcoma consists chiefly of immature or +embryonic connective tissue. It most frequently originates from fascia, +intermuscular connective tissue, periosteum, bone-marrow, and skin, and +forms a rounded or nodulated tumour which appears to be encapsulated, +but the capsule merely consists of the condensed surrounding tissues, +and usually contains sarcomatous elements. The consistence of the tumour +depends on the nature and amount of the stroma, and on the presence of +degenerative changes. The softer medullary forms are composed almost +exclusively of cells; while the harder forms--such as the fibro-, +chondro-, and osteo-sarcoma--are provided with an abundant stroma and +are relatively poor in cells. Degenerative changes may produce areas of +softening or liquefaction which result in the formation of cystic +cavities in the interior of the tumour. The colour depends on the amount +of blood in the tumour, and on the presence of the products of +degeneration. + +The blood vessels are usually represented by mere chinks or spaces +between the cells. This peculiarity accounts for the facility with which +haemorrhage takes place into the substance of the tumour, the persistence +of the bleeding when it is incised or ulcerates through the skin, and +the readiness with which the sarcomatous cells are carried off and +infect distant parts through the blood-stream. Sarcomas are devoid of +lymphatics, and unless originating in lymphatic structures--for example, +in the tonsil--they rarely infect the lymph glands. Minute portions of +the tumour grow into the small veins, and, becoming detached, are +transported by the blood-current to distant organs, where they are +arrested in the capillaries and give rise to secondary growths. These +are most frequently situated in the lungs, except when the primary +growth lies within the territory of the portal circulation, in which +case they occur in the liver. The secondary growths closely resemble the +parent tumour. Sarcoma may invade an adjacent vein on such a scale that +if the invading portion becomes detached it may constitute a dangerous +embolus. This may be observed in sarcoma of the kidney, the growth +taking place along the renal vein until it projects into the vena cava. + +[Illustration: FIG. 55.--Recurrent Sarcoma of Sciatic Nerve in a woman +aet. 27. Recurrence twenty months after removal of primary growth.] + +In its growth, a sarcoma compresses and destroys neighbouring parts, +surrounds vessels and nerves, and may lead to destruction of the skin, +either by invading it, or more commonly by causing sloughing from +pressure. Inflammatory and suppurative changes may take place as a +result of pyogenic infection following upon sloughing of the overlying +skin or upon an exploratory incision. Once the skin is broken the tumour +fungates through the opening. Sarcomas vary in malignancy, especially as +regards rapidity of growth and capacity for dissemination. Certain of +them, such as the so-called "recurrent fibroid of Paget," grow +comparatively slowly, and are only malignant in the sense that they tend +to recur locally after removal; others--especially the more cellular +ones--grow with extreme rapidity, and are early disseminated throughout +the body, resembling in these respects the most malignant forms of +cancer. They are usually solitary in the first instance, although +primary multiple growths are occasionally met with in the skin and in +the bones. + +Many varieties of sarcoma are recognised, according to its structural +peculiarities. Thus, in virtue of the size and character of the cells, +we have the _small round-celled_ and the _large round-celled_ sarcoma, +the _small_ and the _large spindle-celled_, the _giant-celled_ and the +_mixed-celled_ sarcoma. The _lympho-sarcoma_ presents a structure +similar to that of lymph-follicular tissue, and the _alveolar sarcoma_ +an arrangement of cells in alveoli resembling that seen in cancers. When +there is a considerable amount of intercellular fibrous tissue, the +tumour is called a _fibro-sarcoma_. + +[Illustration: FIG. 56.--Fungating Sarcoma of Arm. + +(Dr. J. M'Watt's case.)] + +The term _lymphangio-sarcoma_ is applied when the cells of the tumour +are derived from the endothelium of lymph spaces and vessels. The +_angio-sarcomas_ are those in which blood vessels form a prominent +element in the structure of the tumour. They are sometimes derived from +innocent angiomas, and they may be so vascular as to pulsate and on +auscultation yield a blowing murmur like an aneurysm. The +_glio-sarcoma_, _myxo-sarcoma_, _chondro-sarcoma_, and _myo-sarcoma_ are +mixed forms which usually develop in pre-existing innocent tumours. The +_osteo-sarcoma_ is characterised by the formation in the tumour of bone, +the medullary spaces being occupied by sarcomatous cells in place of +marrow. The _osteoid sarcoma_ is characterised by the formation of a +tissue resembling bone but deficient in lime salts, and the _petrifying +sarcoma_ by the formation of calcified areas in the stroma. These +varieties, although met with chiefly in the bones, may occur in soft +tissues such as muscle, and in such organs as the mamma. The pigmented +varieties include the _chloroma_, which is of a light-green colour, and +the _melanotic sarcoma_, which is brown or black. The _psammoma_ is a +sarcoma containing a material resembling sand; it is chiefly met with in +the membranes of the brain. The _chordoma_ is a rare form of tumour +originating from the remains of the notochord in the region of the +spheno-occipital synchondrosis or in the sacro-coccygeal region. + +_Diagnosis of Sarcoma._--A sarcoma is to be differentiated from an +inflammatory swelling such as results from tubercle, actinomycosis, or +syphilis, from an innocent tumour, and from a cancer. The points on +which the diagnosis is founded are discussed with the different tissues +and organs. + +_Treatment._--The removal of the tumour by operation is the most +reliable method of treatment; in order to be successful it must be +undertaken before dissemination has taken place, and a considerable area +of healthy tissue beyond the apparent margin of the growth must be +removed, and in tumours near the surface of the body, the overlying skin +also. + +In order to prevent recurrence, a tube of _radium_, to which a silk +thread is attached, is inserted into the space from which the tumour was +removed; the thread is brought out at the drain-opening, and at the end +of a week or ten days the tube of radium is removed by pulling on the +thread. Radium causes a reaction in the tissues attended with exudation +from the vessels, for the escape of which provision must be made. If +radium is not available, the affected area is repeatedly exposed to the +action of the _X-rays_ as soon as the wound has healed. The employment +of these measures has diminished to a remarkable degree the recurrence +of sarcoma after operation. + +It will readily be understood that the less thoroughly or radically the +growth has been removed, the more do we depend upon radium or the X-rays +for bringing about a permanent cure, and that in advanced cases of +sarcoma and in cases in which, on account of their anatomical situation, +removal by operation is necessarily incomplete, the prospect of cure is +still more dependent on the use of radium or of the X-rays. Finally, +there are cases in which removal by operation is impossible, the +so-called _inoperable sarcoma_; a tube of radium, to which a silk thread +is attached, is inserted into the substance of the tumour, either +through an opening made by a large trocar, or, when necessary, by open +dissection. A second tube of radium is placed upon the skin over the +tumour and is secured there by a stitch or by a strip of plaster, thus +securing a cross-fire action of the radium rays, both from within and +without, as this is found to be much more efficacious in destroying or +inhibiting the cellular elements of the growth. The tubes of radium are +left _in situ_ for from eight to fourteen days, according to the power +of the radium employed, but are moved about every second day or so in +order that every part of the tumour may be efficiently radiated. If the +tumour shrinks in size after the use of radium and becomes operable, it +should be removed before time is given it to resume its growth. It will +depend upon the subsequent course of the disease, whether or not a +second, or it may be even a third, application of radium will be +required. + +Where neither radium nor X-rays is available or applicable, recourse may +be had to the injection of Coley's fluid, a preparation containing the +mixed toxins of the streptococcus of erysipelas and the bacillus +prodigiosus; or of selenium. + + +EPITHELIAL TUMOURS + +An excessive and erratic growth of epithelium is the essential and +distinguishing feature of these tumours. The innocent forms are the +papilloma and the adenoma; the malignant, the carcinoma or cancer. + +#Papilloma.#--A papilloma is a tumour which projects from a cutaneous or +mucous surface, and consists of a central axis of vascular fibrous +tissue with a covering of epithelium resembling that of the surface from +which the tumour grows. In the papillomas of the skin--commonly known as +_warts_--the covering consists of epidermis; in those growing from +mucous surfaces it consists of the epithelium covering the mucous +membrane. When the surface epithelium projects as filiform processes, +the tumour is called a _villous papilloma_, the best-known example of +which is met with in the urinary bladder. Papillomatous growths are +also met with in the larynx, in the ducts of the breast, and in the +interior of certain cystic tumours of the breast and of the ovary. +Although papillomas are primarily innocent, they may become the +starting-point of cancer, especially in persons past middle life and if +the papilloma has been subjected to irritation and has ulcerated. The +clinical features and treatment of the various forms of papilloma are +considered with the individual tissues and organs. + +#Adenoma.#--An adenoma is a tumour constructed on the type of, and +growing in connection with, a secreting gland. In the substance of such +glands as the mamma, parotid, thyreoid, and prostate, adenomas are met +with as encapsulated tumours. When they originate from the glands of the +skin or of a mucous membrane, they tend to project from the surface, and +form pedunculated tumours or polypi. + +Adenomas may be single or multiple, and they vary greatly in size. The +tumour is seldom composed entirely of gland tissue; it usually contains +a considerable proportion of fibrous tissue, and is then called a +_fibro-adenoma_. When it contains myxomatous tissue it is called a +_myxo-adenoma_, and when the gland spaces of the tumour become distended +with accumulated secretion, a _cystic adenoma_, the best examples of +which are met with in the mamma and ovary. A characteristic feature of +the cystic variety is the tendency the tumour tissue exhibits to project +into the interior of the cysts, constituting what are known as +_intracystic growths_. They are essentially innocent, but intracystic +growths, especially in the mamma of women over fifty, should be regarded +with suspicion and therefore should be removed on radical lines. +Transition forms between adenoma and carcinoma are also met with in the +rectum and large intestine, and these should be treated on the same +lines as cancer. + + +CARCINOMA OR CANCER + +A cancer is a malignant tumour which originates in epithelium. The +cancer cells are derived by proliferation from already existing +epithelium, and they invade the sub-epithelial connective tissue in the +form of simple or branching columns. These columns are enclosed in +spaces--termed alveoli--which are probably dilated lymph spaces, and +which communicate freely with the lymph vessels. The cells composing the +columns and filling the alveoli vary with the character of the +epithelium in which the cancer originates. The malignancy of cancer +depends on the tendency which the epithelium has of invading the tissues +in its neighbourhood, and on the capacity of the cells, when +transported elsewhere by the lymph or blood-stream, of giving rise to +secondary growths. + +Cancer may arise on any surface covered by epithelium or in any of the +secreting glands of the body, but it is much more common in some +situations than in others. It is frequently met with, for example, in +the skin, in the stomach and large intestine, in the breast, the uterus, +and the external genitals; less frequently in the gall-bladder, larynx, +thyreoid, prostate, and urinary bladder. + +Tissues appear to be most liable to cancer when, having attained +maturity, they enter upon the phase of decadence or involution, and this +phase is reached by different tissues at different periods. It is not so +much, therefore, the age of the person in whom it occurs, as the age of +the tissue in which it arises, that determines the maximum incidence of +cancer. Cancer of the stomach appears and attains a maximum frequency +earlier than cancer of the skin; cancer of the uterus and mamma is more +frequent towards the decline of reproductive activity than in the later +years of life; rectal cancer is not infrequently met with during the +second and third decades. There is evidence that the irritation caused +by alcohol and tobacco plays a part in the causation of cancer, in the +fact that a large proportion of those who become the subjects of cancer +of the mouth are excessive drinkers and smokers. + +A cancer may appear as a papillary growth on a mucous or a skin surface, +as a nodule in the substance of an organ, or as a diffuse thickening of +a tubular organ such as the stomach or intestine. The absence of +definition in cancerous tumours explains the difficulty of completely +removing them by surgical measures, and has led to the practice of +complete extirpation of cancerous organs wherever this is possible. The +boundaries of the affected organ, moreover, are frequently transgressed +by the disease, and the epithelial infiltration implicates the +surrounding parts. In cancer of the breast, for example, the disease +often extends to the adjacent skin, fat, and muscle; in cancer of the +lip or tongue, to the mandible; in cancer of the uterus or intestine, to +the investing peritoneum. + +In addition to its tendency to infiltrate adjacent tissues and organs, +cancer is also liable to give rise to _secondary growths_. These are +most often met with in the nearest lymph glands; those in the neck, for +example, becoming infected from cancer of the lip, tongue, or throat; +those in the axilla, from cancer of the breast; those along the +curvatures of the stomach, from cancer of the pylorus; and those in the +groin, from cancer of the external genitals. In lymph vessels the cancer +cells may merely accumulate so as to fill the lumen and form indurated +cords, or they may proliferate and give rise to secondary nodules along +the course of the vessels. When the lymphatic network in the skin is +diffusely infected, the appearance is either that of a multitude of +secondary nodules or of a diffuse thickening, so that the skin comes to +resemble coarse leather. On the wall of the chest this condition is +known as _cancer en cuirasse_. Although the cancer cells constantly +attack the walls of the adjacent veins and spread into their interior at +a comparatively early period, secondary growths due to dissemination by +the blood-stream rarely show themselves clinically until late in the +course of the disease. It is probable that many of the cancer cells +which are carried away in the blood or lymph stream undergo necrosis and +fail to give rise to secondary growths. Secondary growths present a +faithful reproduction of the structure of the primary tumour. Apart from +the lymph glands, the chief seats of secondary growths are the liver, +lungs, serous membranes, and bone marrow. + +It is generally believed that the secondary growths in cancer that +develop at a distance from the primary tumour, those, for example, in +the medullary canal of the femur or in the diploe of the skull occurring +in advanced cases of cancer of the breast, are the result of +dissemination of cancer cells by way of the blood-stream and are to be +regarded as emboli. Sampson Handley disagrees with this view; he +believes that the dissemination is accomplished in a more subtle way, +namely, by the actual growth of cancer cells along the finer vessels of +the lymph plexuses that ramify in the deep fascia, a method of spread +which he calls _permeation_. It is maintained also that permeation +occurs as readily against the lymph stream as with it. He compares the +spread of cancer to that of an invisible annular ringworm. The growing +edge extends in a wider and wider circle, within which a healing process +may occur, so that the area of permeation is a ring, rather than a disc. +Healing occurs by a process of "peri-lymphatic fibrosis," but as the +natural process of healing may fail at isolated points, nodules of +cancer appear, which, although apparently separate from the primary +growth, have developed in continuity with it, peri-lymphatic fibrosis +having destroyed the cancer chain connecting the nodule with the primary +growth. This centrifugal spread of cancer is clearly seen in the +distribution of the subcutaneous secondary nodules so frequently met +with in the late stages of mammary cancer. The area within which the +secondary nodules occur is a circle of continually increasing diameter +with the primary growth in the centre. + +In the rare cases in which the skin of the greater part of the body is +affected, the nodules rarely appear below the level of the deltoid or +the middle third of the thigh, the patient dying before the spread can +reach the distal portions of the limbs. + +Handley argues against the embolic origin of the metastases in the bones +because of the rarity of these in the bones of the distal parts of the +limbs, because of the fact that secondary cancer of the femur nearly +always commences in the upper third of the shaft, which harmonises with +the intimate connection of the deep fascia with the periosteum over the +great trochanter, thus favouring invasion of the bone marrow when +permeation has spread thus far. He claims support for the permeation +theory from the fact that the humerus is rarely involved below the +insertion of the deltoid, and that spontaneous fracture of the femur is +three times more common on the side on which the breast cancer is +situated. + +The tumour tissue may undergo necrosis, and when the overlying skin or +mucous membrane gives way an ulcer is formed. The margins of a +_cancerous ulcer_ (Fig. 57) are made up of tumour tissue which has not +broken down. Usually they are irregular, nodularly thickened or +indurated; sometimes they are raised and crater-like. The floor of the +ulcer is smooth and glazed, or occupied by necrosed tissue, and the +discharge is watery and blood-stained, and as a result of putrefactive +changes may become offensive. Haemorrhage is rarely a prominent feature, +but discharge of blood may constitute a symptom of considerable +diagnostic importance in cancer of internal organs such as the rectum, +the bladder, or the uterus. + +[Illustration: FIG. 57.--Carcinoma of Breast with Cancerous Ulcer.] + +_The Contagiousness of Cancer._--A limited number of cases are on record +in which a cancer appears to have been transferred by contact, as from +the lower to the upper lip, from one labium majus to the other, from the +tongue to the cheek, and from one vocal cord to the other; these being +all examples of cancer involving surfaces which are constantly or +frequently in contact. The transference of cancer from one human being +to another, whether by accident, as in the case of a surgeon wounding +his finger while operating for cancer, or by the deliberate introduction +of a portion of cancerous tumour into the tissues, has never been known +to occur. It is by no means infrequent, however, that when recurrence +takes place after an operation for the removal of cancer, the recurrent +nodules make their appearance in the main scar or in the scars of +stitches in its neighbourhood. In the lower animals the grafting of +cancer only succeeds in animals of the same species; for example, a +cancer taken from a mouse will not grow in the tissues of a rat, but +only in a mouse of the same variety as that from which the graft was +taken. + +While cancer cannot be regarded as either contagious or infectious, it +is important to bear in mind the possibility of infection of a wound +with cancer when operating for the disease. A cancer should not be cut +into unless this is essential for purposes of diagnosis, and the wound +made for exploration should be tightly closed by stitches before the +curative operation is proceeded with; the instruments used for the +exploration must not be used again until they have been boiled. The +greatest care should be taken that a cancer which has softened or broken +down is not opened into during the operation. + +Investigations regarding the cause of cancer have been prosecuted with +great energy during recent years, but as yet without positive result. It +is recognised that there are a number of conditions which favour the +development of cancer, such as prolonged irritation, and a considerable +number of cases have been recorded in which cancer of the skin of the +hands has followed prolonged and repeated exposure to the Rontgen rays. + +_The Alleged Increase of Cancer._--Regarding the alleged increase of +cancer, it may be pointed out that it is impossible to ascertain how +much of the apparent increase is due to more accurate diagnosis and +improved registration. It is probable also that some increase has taken +place in consequence of the increased average duration of life; a larger +proportion of persons now reach the age at which cancer is frequent. + +_The prognosis_ largely depends on the variety of cancer and on its +situation. Certain varieties--such as the atrophic cancer of the breast +which occurs in old people, and some forms of cancer in the rectum--are +so indolent in their progress that they can scarcely be said to shorten +life; while others--such as the softer varieties of mammary cancer +occurring in young women--are among the most malignant of tumours. The +mode in which cancer causes death depends to a large extent upon its +situation. In the gullet, for example, it usually causes death by +starvation; in the larynx or thyreoid, by suffocation; in the intestine, +by obstruction of the bowels; in the uterus, prostate, and bladder, by +haemorrhage or by implication of the ureters and kidneys. Independently +of their situation, however, cancers frequently cause death by giving +rise to a progressive impairment of health known as the _cancerous +cachexia_, a condition which is due to the continued absorption of +poisonous products from the tumour. The patient loses appetite, becomes +emaciated, pale, and feverish, and gradually loses strength until he +dies. In many cases, especially those in which ulceration has occurred, +the addition of pyogenic infection may also be concerned in the failure +of health. + +_Treatment._--Removal by surgical means affords the best prospect of +cure. If carcinomatous disease is to be rooted out, its mode of spread +by means of the lymph vessels must be borne in mind, and as this occurs +at an early stage, and is not evident on examination, a wide area must +be included in the operation. The organ from which the original growth +springs should, if practicable, be altogether removed, because its lymph +vessels generally communicate freely with each other, and secondary +deposits have probably already taken place in various parts of it. In +addition, the nearest chain of lymph glands must also be removed, even +though they may not be noticeably enlarged, and in some cases--in cancer +of the breast, for example--the intervening lymph vessels should be +removed at the same time. + +The treatment of cancer by other than operative methods has received a +great deal of attention within recent years, and many agents have been +put to the test, _e.g._ colloidal suspensions of selenium, but without +any positive results. Most benefit has resulted from the use of radium +and of the X-rays, and one or other should be employed as a routine +measure after every operation for cancer. + +It has been demonstrated that cancer cells are more sensitive to radium +and to the Rontgen rays than the normal cells of the body, and are more +easily killed. The effect varies a good deal with the nature and seat of +the tumour. In rodent cancers of the skin, for example, both radium and +X-ray treatment are very successful, and are to be preferred to +operation because they yield a better cosmetic result. While small +epitheliomas of the skin may be cured by means of the rays, they are not +so amenable as rodent cancers. + +Cancers of mucous membranes are less amenable to ray treatment because +they are less circumscribed and are difficult of access. In cancers +under the skin, the Rontgen rays are less efficient; if radium is +employed, the tube containing it should be inserted into the substance +of the tumour after the method described in connection with sarcoma--and +another tube should be placed on the overlying skin. + +In the employment of X-rays and of radium in the treatment of cancer, +experience is required, not only to obtain the maximum effect of the +rays, but to avoid damage to the adjacent and overlying tissues. + +Ray treatment is not to be looked upon as a rival but as a powerful +supplement to the operative treatment of cancer. + + +VARIETIES OF CANCER + +The varieties of cancer are distinguished according to the character and +arrangement of the epithelial cells. + +The _squamous epithelial cancer_ or _epithelioma_ originates from a +surface covered by squamous epithelium, such as the skin, or the mucous +membrane of the mouth, gullet, or larynx. The cancer cells retain the +characters of squamous epithelium, and, being confined within the lymph +spaces of the sub-epithelial connective tissue, become compressed and +undergo a horny change. This results in the formation of concentrically +laminated masses known as cell nests. + +The clinical features are those of a slowly growing indurated tumour, +which nearly always ulcerates; there is a characteristic induration of +the edges and floor of the ulcer, and its surface is often covered with +warty or cauliflower-like outgrowths (Fig. 58). The infection of the +lymph glands is early and constant, and constitutes the most dangerous +feature of the disease; the secondary growths in the glands exhibit the +characteristic induration, and may themselves break down and lead to the +formation of ulcers. + +[Illustration: FIG. 58.--Epithelioma of Lip.] + +Epithelioma frequently originates in long-standing ulcers or sinuses, +and in scars, and probably results from the displacement and +sequestration of epithelial cells during the process of cicatrisation. + +The _columnar epithelial cancer_ or _columnar epithelioma_ originates in +mucous membranes covered with columnar epithelium, and is chiefly met +with in the stomach and intestine. As it resembles an adenoma in +structure it is sometimes described as a _malignant adenoma_. Its +malignancy is shown by the proliferating epithelium invading the other +coats of the stomach or intestine, and by the development of secondary +growths. + +_Glandular carcinoma_ originates in organs such as the breast, and in +the glands of mucous membranes and skin. The epithelial cells are not +arranged on any definite plan, but are closely packed in irregularly +shaped alveoli. If the alveoli are large and the intervening stroma is +scanty and delicate, the tumour is soft and brain-like, and is described +as a _medullary_ or _encephaloid cancer_. If the alveoli are small and +the intervening stroma is abundant and composed of dense fibrous tissue, +the tumour is hard, and is known as a _scirrhous cancer_--a form which +is most frequently met with in the breast. If the cells undergo +degeneration and absorption and the stroma contracts, the tumour becomes +still harder, and tends to shrink and to draw in the surrounding parts, +leading, in the breast, to retraction of the nipple and overlying skin, +and in the stomach and colon to narrowing of the lumen. When the cells +of the tumour undergo colloid degeneration, a _colloid cancer_ results; +if the degeneration is complete, as may occur in the breast, the +malignancy is thereby greatly diminished; if only partial, as is more +common in rectal cancer, the malignancy is not appreciably affected. +Melanin pigment is formed in relation to the cells and stroma of certain +epithelial tumours, giving rise to _melanotic cancer_, one of the most +malignant of all new growths. Cyst-like spaces may form in the tumour by +the accumulation of the secretion of the epithelial cells, or as a +result of their degeneration--_cystic carcinoma_. This is met with +chiefly in the breast and ovary, and the tumour resembles the cystic +adenoma, but it tends to infect its surroundings and gives rise to +secondary growths. + +_Rodent cancer_ originates in the glands of the skin, and presents a +special tendency to break down and ulcerate on the surface (Figs. 102 +and 103). It almost never infects the lymph glands. + + +DERMOIDS + +A dermoid is a tumour containing skin or mucous membrane, occurring in a +situation where these tissues are not met under normal conditions. + +The _skin dermoid_, or _derma-cyst_ as it has been called by Askanazy, +arises from a portion of epiblast, which has become sequestrated during +the process of coalescence of two cutaneous surfaces in development. +This form is therefore most frequently met with on the face and neck in +the situations which correspond to the various clefts and fissures of +the embryo. It occurs also on the trunk in situations where the lateral +halves of the body coalesce during development. Such a dermoid usually +takes the form of a globular cyst, the wall of which consists of skin, +and the contents of turbid fluid containing desquamated epithelium, fat +droplets, cholestrol crystals, and detached hairs. Delicate hairs may +also be found projecting from the epithelial lining of the cyst. + +Faulty coalescence of the cutaneous covering of the back occurs most +frequently over the lower sacral vertebrae, giving rise to small +congenital recesses, known as post-anal dimples and coccygeal sinuses. +These recesses are lined with skin, which is furnished with hairs, +sebaceous and sweat glands. If the external orifice becomes occluded, +there results a dermoid cyst. + +_Tubulo-dermoids_ arise from embryonic ducts and passages that are +normally obliterated at birth, for example, _lingual dermoids_ develop +in relation to the thyreo-glossal duct; _rectal and post-rectal_ +dermoids to the post-anal gut; and _branchial dermoids_ in relation to +the branchial clefts. Tubulo-dermoids present the same structure as skin +dermoids, save that mucous membrane takes the place of skin in the wall +of the cyst, and the contents consist of the pent-up secretion of mucous +glands. + +_Clinical Features._--Although dermoids are of congenital origin, they +are rarely evident at birth, and may not give rise to visible tumours +until puberty, when the skin and its appendages become more active, or +not till adult life. Superficial dermoids, such as those met with at the +outer angle of the orbit, form rounded, definitely limited tumours over +which the skin is freely movable. They are usually adherent to the +deeper parts, and when situated over the skull may be lodged in a +depression or actual gap in the bone. Sometimes the cyst becomes +infected and suppurates, and finally ruptures on the surface. This may +lead to a natural cure, or a persistent sinus may form. Dermoids more +deeply placed, such as those within the thorax, or those situated +between the rectum and sacrum, give rise to difficulty in diagnosis, +even with the help of the X-rays, and their nature is seldom recognised +until the escape of the contents--particularly hairs--supplies the clue. +The literature of dermoid cysts is full of accounts of puzzling tumours +met with in all sorts of situations. + +The treatment is to remove the cyst. When it is impossible to remove the +whole of the lining membrane by dissection, the portion that is left +should be destroyed with the cautery. + +_Ovarian Dermoids._--Dermoids are not uncommon in the ovary (Fig. 59). +They usually take the form of unilocular or multilocular cysts, the +wall of which contains skin, mucous membrane, hair follicles, sebaceous, +sweat, and mucous glands, nails, teeth, nipples, and mammary glands. The +cavity of the cyst usually contains a pultaceous mixture of shed +epithelium, fluid fat, and hair. If the cyst ruptures, the epithelial +elements are diffused over the peritoneum, and may give rise to +secondary dermoids. + +[Illustration: FIG. 59.--Dermoid Cyst of Ovary showing Teeth in its +interior.] + +The ovarian dermoid appears clinically as an abdominal or pelvic tumour +provided with a pedicle; if the pedicle becomes twisted, the tumour +undergoes strangulation, an event which is attended with urgent +symptoms, not unlike those of strangulated hernia. + +The treatment consists in removing the tumour by laparotomy. + +#Teratoma.#--A teratoma is believed to result from partial dichotomy or +cleavage of the trunk axis of the embryo, and is found exclusively in +connection with the skull and vertebral column. It may take the form of +a monstrosity such as conjoined twins or a parasitic foetus, but more +commonly it is met with as an irregularly shaped tumour, usually growing +from the sacrum. On dissection, such a tumour is found to contain a +curious mixture of tissues--bones, skin, and portions of viscera, such +as the intestine or liver. The question of the removal of the tumour +requires to be considered in relation to the conditions present in each +individual case. + + +CYSTS[3] + +[3] Cysts which form in relation to new-growths have been considered +with tumours. + +Cysts are rounded sacs, the wall being composed of fibrous tissue lined +by epithelium or endothelium; the contents are fluid or semi-solid, and +vary in character according to the tissue in which the cyst has +originated. + +_Retention and Exudation Cysts._--_Retention cysts_ develop when the +duct of a secreting gland is partly obstructed; the secretion +accumulates, and the gland and its duct become distended into a cyst. +They are met with in the mamma and in the salivary glands. Sebaceous +cysts or wens are described with diseases of the skin. _Exudation cysts_ +arise from the distension of cavities which are not provided with +excretory ducts, such as those in the thyreoid. + +_Implantation cysts_ are caused by the accidental transference of +portions of the epidermis into the underlying connective tissue, as may +occur in wounds by needles, awls, forks, or thorns. The implanted +epidermis proliferates and forms a small cyst. They are met with chiefly +on the palmar aspect of the fingers, and vary in size from a split pea +to a cherry. The treatment consists in removing them by dissection. + +_Parasitic cysts_ are produced by the growth within the tissues of +cyst-forming parasites, the best known being the taenia echinococcus, +which gives rise to the _hydatid cyst_. The liver is by far the most +common site of hydatid cysts in the human subject. + +With regard to the further life-history of hydatids, the living elements +of the cyst may die and degenerate, or the cyst may increase in size +until it ruptures. As a result of pyogenic infection the cyst may be +converted into an abscess. + +The _clinical features_ of hydatids vary so much with their situation +and size, that they are best discussed with the individual organs. In +general it may be said that there is a slow formation of a globular, +elastic, fluctuating, painless swelling. Fluctuation is detected when +the cyst approaches the surface, and it is then also that percussion +may elicit the "hydatid thrill" or fremitus. This thrill is not often +obtainable, and in any case is not pathognomonic of hydatids, as it may +be elicited in ascites and in other abdominal cysts. Pressure of the +cyst upon adjacent structures, and the occurrence of suppuration, are +attended with characteristic clinical features. + +The _diagnosis_ of hydatids will be considered with the individual +organs. The disease is more common in certain parts of Australia and in +Shetland and Iceland than in countries where the association of dogs in +the domestic life of the inhabitants is less intimate. Pfeiler, who has +worked at the _serum diagnosis of hydatid disease_, regards the +complement deviation method as the most reliable; he believes that a +positive reaction may almost be regarded as absolutely diagnostic of an +echinococcal lesion. + +The _treatment_ is to excise the cyst completely, or to inject into it a +1 per cent. solution of formalin. In operating upon hydatids the utmost +care must be taken to avoid leakage of the contents of the cyst, as +these may readily disseminate the infection. + +A _blood cyst_ or haematoma results from the encapsulation of +extravasated blood in the tissues, from haemorrhage taking place into a +preformed cyst, or from the saccular pouching of a varicose vein. + +A _lymph cyst_ usually results from a contusion in which the skin is +forcibly displaced from the subjacent tissues, and lymph vessels are +thereby torn across. The cyst is usually situated between the skin and +fascia, and contains clear or blood-stained serum. At first it is lax +and fluctuates readily, later it becomes larger and more tense. The +treatment consists in drawing off the contents through a hollow needle +and applying firm pressure. Apart from injury, lymph cysts are met with +as the result of the distension of lymph spaces and vessels +(_lymphangiectasis_); and in lymphangiomas, of which the best-known +example is the cystic hygroma or hydrocele of the neck. + + +GANGLION + +This term is applied to a cyst filled with a clear colourless jelly or +colloid material, met with in the vicinity of a joint or tendon sheath. + +The commonest variety--the _carpal ganglion_--popularly known as a +sprained sinew--is met with as a smooth, rounded, or oval swelling on +the dorsal aspect of the carpus, usually towards its radial side (Fig. 60). +It is situated over one of the intercarpal or other joints in this +region, and may be connected with one or other of the extensor tendons. +The skin and fascia are movable over the cyst. The cyst varies in size +from a pea to a pigeon's egg, and usually attains its maximum size +within a few months and then remains stationary. It becomes tense and +prominent when the hand is flexed towards the palm. Its appearance is +usually ascribed to some strain of the wrist--for example, in girls +learning gymnastics. It may cause no symptoms or it may interfere with +the use of the hand, especially in grasping movements and when the hand +is dorsiflexed. In girls it may give rise to pain which shoots up the +arm. Ganglia are also met with on the dorsum of the metacarpus and on +the palmar aspect of the wrist. + +[Illustration: FIG. 60.--Carpal Ganglion in a woman aet. 25.] + +The _tarsal ganglion_ is situated on the dorsum of the foot over one or +other of the intertarsal joints. It is usually smaller, flatter, and +more tense than that met with over the wrist, so that it is sometimes +mistaken for a bony tumour. It rarely causes symptoms, unless so +situated as to be pressed upon by the boot. + +_Ganglia in the region of the knee_ are usually situated over the +interval between the femur and tibia, most often on the lateral aspect +of the joint in front of the tendon of the biceps (Fig. 61). The +swelling, which may attain the size of half a walnut, is tense and hard +when the knee is extended, and becomes softer and more prominent when it +is flexed. They are met with in young adults who follow laborious +occupations or who indulge in athletics, and they cause stiffness, +discomfort, and impairment of the use of the limb. A ganglion is +sometimes met with on the median aspect of the head of the metatarsal +bone of the great toe and may be the cause of considerable suffering; it +is indistinguishable from the thickened and enlarged bursa so commonly +present in this situation in the condition known as bunion. + +[Illustration: FIG. 61.--Ganglion on lateral aspect of Knee in a young +woman.] + +Ganglionic cysts are met with in other situations than those mentioned, +but they are so rare as not to require separate description. + +Ganglia are to be diagnosed by their situation and physical characters; +enlarged bursae, synovial cysts, and new-growths are the swellings most +likely to be mistaken for them. The diagnosis is sometimes only cleared +up by withdrawing the clear, jelly-like contents through a hollow +needle. + +_Pathological Anatomy._--The wall of the cyst is composed of fibrous +tissue closely adherent to or fused with the surrounding tissues, so +that it cannot be shelled out. There is no endothelial lining, and the +fibrous tissue of the wall is in immediate contact with the colloid +material in the interior, which appears to be derived by a process of +degeneration from the surrounding connective tissue. In the region of +the knee the ganglion is usually multilocular, and consists of a +meshwork of fibrous tissue, the meshes of which are occupied by colloid +material. + +It is often stated that a ganglion originates from a hernial protrusion +of the synovial membrane of a joint or tendon sheath. We have not been +able to demonstrate any communication between the cavity of the cyst +and that of an adjacent tendon sheath or joint. It is possible, however, +that the cyst may originate from a minute portion of synovial membrane +being protruded and strangulated so that it becomes disconnected from +that to which it originally belonged; it may then degenerate and give +rise to colloid material, which accumulates and forms a cyst. Ledderhose +and others regard ganglia as entirely new formations in the +peri-articular tissues, resulting from colloid degeneration of the +fibrous tissue of the capsular ligament, occurring at first in numerous +small areas which later coalesce. Ganglia are probably, therefore, of +the nature of degeneration cysts arising in the capsule of joints, in +tendons, and in their sheaths. + +_Treatment._--A ganglion can usually be got rid of by a modification of +the old-fashioned seton. The skin and cyst wall are transfixed by a +stout needle carrying a double thread of silkworm gut; some of the +colourless jelly escapes from the punctures; the ends of the thread are +tied and cut short, and a dressing is applied. A week later the threads +are removed and the minute punctures are sealed with collodion. The +action of the threads is to convert the cyst wall into granulation +tissue, which undergoes the usual conversion into scar tissue. If the +cyst re-forms, it should be removed by open dissection under local +anaesthesia. Puncture with a tenotomy knife and scraping the interior, +and the injection of irritants, are alternative, but less satisfactory, +methods of treatment. + +_Ganglia_ in the substance of _tendons_ are rare. The diagnosis rests on +the observation that the small tumour is cystic, and that it follows the +movements of the tendon. The cyst is at first multiple, but the +partitions disappear, and the spaces are thrown into one. The tendon is +so weakened that it readily ruptures. The best treatment is to resect +the affected segment of tendon. + +The so-called "compound palmar ganglion" is a tuberculous disease of the +tendon sheaths, and is described with diseases of tendon sheaths. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +INJURIES + + +CONTUSIONS--WOUNDS: _Varieties_--WOUNDS BY FIREARMS AND + EXPLOSIVES: _Pistol-shot wounds_; _Wounds by sporting guns_; + _Wounds by rifle bullets_; _Wounds received in warfare_; _Shell + wounds_. _Embedded foreign bodies_--BURNS AND + SCALDS--INJURIES PRODUCED BY ELECTRICITY: _X-ray and + radium_; _Electrical burns_; _Lightning stroke_. + + +CONTUSIONS + +A contusion or bruise is a laceration of the subcutaneous soft tissues, +without solution of continuity of the skin. When the integument gives +way at the same time, a _contused-wound_ results. Bruising occurs when +force is applied to a part by means of a blunt object, whether as a +direct blow, a crush, or a grazing form of violence. If the force acts +at right angles to the part, it tends to produce localised lesions which +extend deeply; while, if it acts obliquely, it gives rise to lesions +which are more diffuse, but comparatively superficial. It is well to +remember that those who suffer from scurvy, or haemophilia (bleeders), +and fat and anaemic females, are liable to be bruised by comparatively +trivial injuries. + +_Clinical Features._--The less severe forms of contusion are associated +with _ecchymosis_, numerous minute and discrete punctate haemorrhages +being scattered through the superficial layers of the skin, which is +slightly oedematous. The effused blood is soon reabsorbed. + +The more severe forms are attended with _extravasation_, the +extravasated blood being widely diffused through the cellular tissue of +the part, especially where this is loose and lax, as in the region of +the orbit, the scrotum and perineum, and on the chest wall. A blue or +bluish-black discoloration occurs in patches, varying in size and depth +with the degree of force which produced the injury, and in shape with +the instrument employed. It is most intense in regions where the skin is +naturally thin and pigmented. In parts where the extravasated blood is +only separated from the oxygen of the air by a thin layer of epidermis +or by a mucous membrane, it retains its bright arterial colour. These +points are often well illustrated in cases of black eye, where the blood +effused under the conjunctiva is bright red, while that in the eyelids +is almost black. In severe contusions associated with great tension of +the skin--for example, over the front of the tibia or around the +ankle--blisters often form on the surface and constitute a possible +avenue of infection. When deeply situated, the blood tends to spread +along the lines of least resistance, partly under the influence of +gravity, passing under fasciae, between muscles, along the sheaths of +vessels, or in connective-tissue spaces, so that it may only reach the +surface after some time, and at a considerable distance from the seat of +injury. This fact is sometimes of importance in diagnosis, as, for +example, in certain fractures of the base of the skull, where +discoloration appears under the conjunctiva or behind the mastoid +process some days after the accident. + +Blood extravasated deeply in the tissues gives rise to a firm, +resistant, doughy swelling, in which there may be elicited on deep +palpation a peculiar sensation, not unlike the crepitus of fracture. + +It frequently happens that, from the tearing of lymph vessels, serous +fluid is extravasated, and a _lymphatic_ or _serous cyst_ may form. + +In all contusions accompanied by extravasation, there is marked swelling +of the area involved, as well as pain and tenderness. The temperature +may rise to 101 F., or, in the large extravasations that occur in +bleeders, even higher--a form of aseptic fever. The degree of shock is +variable, but sudden syncope frequently results from severe bruises of +the testicle, abdomen, or head, and occasionally marked nervous +depression follows these injuries. + +Contusion of muscles or nerves may produce partial atrophy and paresis, +as is often seen after injuries in the region of the shoulder. + +In alcoholic or other debilitated patients, suppuration is liable to +ensue in bruised parts, infection taking place from cocci circulating in +the blood, or through the overlying skin. + +_Terminations of Contusions._--The usual termination is a complete +return to the normal, some of the extravasated blood being organised, +but most of it being reabsorbed. During the process characteristic +alterations in the colour of the effused blood take place as a result of +changes in the blood pigment. In from twenty-four to forty-eight hours +the margins of the blue area become of a violet hue, and as time goes on +the discoloured area increases in size, and becomes successively green, +yellow, and lemon-coloured at its margins, the central part being the +last to change. The rate at which this play of colours proceeds is so +variable, and depends on so many circumstances, that no time-limits can +be laid down. During the disintegration of the effused blood the +adjacent lymph glands may become enlarged, and on dissection may be +found to be pigmented. Sometimes the blood persists as a collection of +fluid with a newly formed connective-tissue capsule, constituting a +_haematoma_ or _blood cyst_, more often met with in the scalp than in +other parts. + +The impairment of the blood supply of the skin may lead to the formation +of _blisters_, or to _necrosis_. Death of skin is more liable to occur +in bleeders, and when the slough separates the blood-clot is exposed and +the reparative changes go on extremely slowly. _Suppuration_ may occur +and lead to the formation of an abscess as a result of direct infection +from the skin or through the circulation. + +_Treatment._--If the patient is seen immediately after the accident, +elevation of the part, and firm pressure applied by means of a thick pad +of cotton wool and an elastic bandage, are useful in preventing effusion +of blood. Ice-bags and evaporating lotions are to be used with caution, +as they are liable to lower the vitality of the damaged tissues and lead +to necrosis of the skin. + +When extravasation has already taken place, massage is the most speedy +and efficacious means of dispersing the effused blood. The part should +be massaged several times a day, unless the presence of blebs or +abrasions of the skin prevents this being done. When this is the case, +the use of antiseptic dressings is called for to prevent infection and +to promote healing, after which massage is employed. + +When the tension caused by the extravasated blood threatens the vitality +of the skin, incisions may be made, if asepsis can be assured. The blood +from a haematoma may be withdrawn by an exploring needle, and the +puncture sealed with collodion. Infective complications must be looked +for and dealt with on general principles. + + +WOUNDS + +A wound is a solution in the continuity of the skin or mucous membrane +and of the underlying tissues, caused by violence. + +Three varieties of wounds are described: incised, punctured, and +contused and lacerated. + +#Incised Wounds.#--Typical examples of incised wounds are those made by +the surgeon in the course of an operation, wounds accidentally inflicted +by cutting instruments, and suicidal cut-throat wounds. It should be +borne in mind in connection with medico-legal inquiries, that wounds of +soft parts that closely overlie a bone, such as the skull, the tibia, or +the patella, although, inflicted by a blunt instrument, may have all the +appearances of incised wounds. + +_Clinical Features._--One of the characteristic features of an incised +wound is its tendency to gape. This is evident in long skin wounds, and +especially when the cut runs across the part, or when it extends deeply +enough to divide muscular fibres at right angles to their long axis. The +gaping of a wound, further, is more marked when the underlying tissues +are in a state of tension--as, for example, in inflamed parts. Incised +wounds in the palm of the hand, the sole of the foot, or the scalp, +however, have little tendency to gape, because of the close attachment +of the skin to the underlying fascia. + +Incised wounds, especially in inflamed tissues, tend to bleed profusely; +and when a vessel is only partly divided and is therefore unable to +contract, it continues to bleed longer than when completely cut across. + +The _special risks_ of incised wounds are: (1) division of large blood +vessels, leading to profuse haemorrhage; (2) division of nerve-trunks, +resulting in motor and sensory disturbances; and (3) division of tendons +or muscles, interfering with movement. + +_Treatment._--If haemorrhage is still going on, it must be arrested by +pressure, torsion, or ligature, as the accumulation of blood in a wound +interferes with union. If necessary, the wound should be purified by +washing with saline solution or eusol, and the surrounding skin painted +with iodine, after which the edges are approximated by sutures. The raw +surfaces must be brought into accurate apposition, care being taken that +no inversion of the cutaneous surface takes place. In extensive and deep +wounds, to ensure more complete closure and to prevent subsequent +stretching of the scar, it is advisable to unite the different +structures--muscles, fasciae, and subcutaneous tissue--by separate series +of _buried sutures_ of catgut or other absorbable material. For the +approximation of the skin edges, stitches of horse-hair, fishing-gut, or +fine silk are the most appropriate. These _stitches of coaptation_ may +be interrupted or continuous. In small superficial wounds on exposed +parts, stitch marks may be avoided by approximating the edges with +strips of gauze fixed in position by collodion, or by subcutaneous +sutures of fine catgut. Where the skin is loose, as, for example, in the +neck, on the limbs, or in the scrotum, the use of Michel's clips is +advantageous in so far as these bring the deep surfaces of the skin into +accurate apposition, are introduced with comparatively little pain, and +leave only a slight mark if removed within forty-eight hours. + +When there is any difficulty in bringing the edges of the wound into +apposition, a few interrupted _relaxation stitches_ may be introduced +wide of the margins, to take the strain off the coaptation stitches. +Stout silk, fishing-gut, or silver wire may be employed for this +purpose. When the tension is extreme, Lister's button suture may be +employed. The tension is relieved and death of skin prevented by scoring +it freely with a sharp knife. Relaxation stitches should be removed in +four or five days, and stitches of coaptation in from seven to ten days. +On the face and neck, wounds heal rapidly, and stitches may be removed +in two or three days, thus diminishing the marks they leave. + +_Drainage._--In wounds in which no cavity has been left, and in which +there is no reason to suspect infection, drainage is unnecessary. When, +however, the deeper parts of an extensive wound cannot be brought into +accurate apposition, and especially when there is any prospect of oozing +of blood or serum--as in amputation stumps or after excision of the +breast--drainage is indicated. It is a wise precaution also to insert +drainage tubes into wounds in fat patients when there is the slightest +reason to suspect the presence of infection. Glass or rubber tubes are +the best drains; but where it is desirable to leave little mark, a few +strands of horse-hair, or a small roll of rubber, form a satisfactory +substitute. Except when infection occurs, the drain is removed in from +one to four days and the opening closed with a Michel's clip or a +suture. + +#Punctured Wounds.#--Punctured wounds are produced by narrow, pointed +instruments, and the sharper and smoother the instrument the more does +the resulting injury resemble an incised wound; while from more rounded +and rougher instruments the edges of the wound are more or less contused +or lacerated. The depth of punctured wounds greatly exceeds their width, +and the damage to subcutaneous parts is usually greater than that to the +skin. When the instrument transfixes a part, the edges of the wound of +entrance may be inverted, and those of the exit wound everted. If the +instrument is a rough one, these conditions may be reversed by its +sudden withdrawal. + +Punctured wounds neither gape nor bleed much. Even when a large vessel +is implicated, the bleeding usually takes place into the tissues rather +than externally. + +The _risks_ incident to this class of wounds are: (1) the extreme +difficulty, especially when a dense fascia has been perforated, of +rendering them aseptic, on account of the uncertainty as to their depth, +and of the way in which the surface wound closes on the withdrawal of +the instrument; (2) different forms of aneurysm may result from the +puncture of a large vessel; (3) perforation of a joint, or of a serous +cavity, such as the abdomen, thorax, or skull, materially adds to the +danger. + +_Treatment._--The first indication is to purify the whole extent of the +wound, and to remove any foreign body or blood-clot that may be in it. +It is usually necessary to enlarge the wound, freely dividing injured +fasciae, paring away bruised tissues, and purifying the whole +wound-surface. Any blood vessel that is punctured should be cut across +and tied; and divided muscles, tendons, or nerves must be sutured. After +haemorrhage has been arrested, iodoform and bismuth paste is rubbed into +the raw surface, and the wound closed. If there is any reason to doubt +the asepticity of the wound, it is better treated by the open method, +and a Bier's bandage should be applied. + +#Contused and Lacerated Wounds.#--These may be considered together, as +they so occur in practice. They are produced by crushing, biting, or +tearing forms of violence--such as result from machinery accidents, +firearms, or the bites of animals. In addition to the irregular wound of +the integument, there is always more or less bruising of the parts +beneath and around, and the subcutaneous lesions are much wider than +appears on the surface. + +Wounds of this variety usually gape considerably, especially when there +is much laceration of the skin. It is not uncommon to have considerable +portions of skin, muscle, or tendon completely torn away. + +Haemorrhage is seldom a prominent feature, as the crushing or tearing of +the vessel wall leads to the obliteration of the lumen. + +The _special risks_ of these wounds are: (1) Sloughing of the bruised +tissues, especially when attempts to sterilise the wound have not been +successful. (2) Reactionary haemorrhage after the initial shock has +passed off. (3) Secondary haemorrhage as a result of infective processes +ensuing in the wound. (4) Loss of muscle or tendon, interfering with +motion. (5) Cicatricial contraction. (6) Gangrene, which may follow +occlusion of main vessels, or virulent infective processes. (7) It is +not uncommon to have particles of carbon embedded in the tissues after +lacerated wounds, leaving unsightly, pigmented scars. This is often seen +in coal-miners, and in those injured by firearms, and is to be prevented +by removing all gross dirt from the edges of the wound. + +_Treatment._--In severe wounds of this class implicating the +extremities, the most important question that arises is whether or not +the limb can be saved. In examining the limb, attention should first be +directed to the state of the main blood vessels, in order to determine +if the vascular supply of the part beyond the lesion is sufficient to +maintain its vitality. Amputation is usually called for if there is +complete absence of pulsation in the distal arteries and if the part +beyond is cold. If at the same time important nerve-trunks are +lacerated, so that the function of the limb would be seriously impaired, +it is not worth running the risk of attempting to save it. If, in +addition, there is extensive destruction of large muscular masses or of +important tendons, or comminution of the bones, amputation is usually +imperative. Stripping of large areas of skin is not in itself a reason +for removing a limb, as much can be done by skin grafting, but when it +is associated with other lesions it favours amputation. In considering +these points, it must be borne in mind that the damage to the deeper +tissues is always more extensive than appears on the surface, and that +in many cases it is only possible to estimate the real extent of the +injury by administering an anaesthetic and exploring the wound. In +doubtful cases the possibility of rendering the parts aseptic will often +decide the question for or against amputation. If thorough purification +is accomplished, the success which attends conservative measures is +often remarkable. It is permissible to run an amount of risk to save an +upper extremity which would be unjustifiable in the case of a lower +limb. The age and occupation of the patient must also be taken into +account. + +It having been decided to try and save the limb, the question is only +settled for the moment; it may have to be reconsidered from day to day, +or even from hour to hour, according to the progress of the case. + +When it is decided to make the attempt to save the limb, the wound must +be thoroughly purified. All bruised tissue in which gross dirt has +become engrained should be cut away with knife or scissors. The raw +surface is then cleansed with eusol, washed with sterilised salt +solution followed by methylated spirit, and rubbed all over with "bipp" +paste. If the purification is considered satisfactory the wound may be +closed, otherwise it is left open, freely drained or packed with gauze, +and the limb is immobilised by suitable splints. + + +WOUNDS BY FIREARMS AND EXPLOSIVES + +It is not necessary here to do more than indicate the general characters +of wounds produced by modern weapons. For further details the reader is +referred to works on military surgery. Experience has shown that the +nature and severity of the injuries sustained in warfare vary widely in +different campaigns, and even in different fields of the same campaign. +Slight variations in the size, shape, and weight of rifle bullets, for +example, may profoundly modify the lesions they produce: witness the +destructive effect of the pointed bullet compared with that of the +conical form previously used. The conditions under which the fighting is +carried on also influence the wounds. Those sustained in the open, +long-range fighting of the South African campaign of 1899-1902 were very +different from those met with in the entrenched warfare in France in +1914-1918. It has been found also that the infective complications are +greatly influenced by the terrain in which the fighting takes place. In +the dry, sandy, uncultivated veldt of South Africa, bullet wounds seldom +became infected, while those sustained in the highly manured fields of +Belgium were almost invariably contaminated with putrefactive organisms, +and gaseous gangrene and tetanus were common complications. It has been +found also that wounds inflicted in naval engagements present different +characters from those sustained on land. Many other factors, such as the +physical and mental condition of the men, the facilities for affording +first aid, and the transport arrangements, also play a part in +determining the nature and condition of the wounds that have to be dealt +with by military surgeons. + +Whatever the nature of the weapon concerned, the wound is of the +_punctured, contused, and lacerated_ variety. Its severity depends on +the size, shape, and velocity of the missile, the range at which the +weapon is discharged, and the part of the body struck. + +Shock is a prominent feature, but its degree, as well as the time of its +onset, varies with the extent and seat of the injury, and with the +mental state of the patient when wounded. We have observed pronounced +shock in children after being shot even when no serious injury was +sustained. At the moment of injury the patient experiences a sensation +which is variously described as being like the lash of a whip, a blow +with a stick, or an electric shock. There is not much pain at first, but +later it may become severe, and is usually associated with intense +thirst, especially when much blood has been lost. + +In all forms of wounds sustained in warfare, septic infection +constitutes the main risk, particularly that resulting from +streptococci. The presence of anaerobic organisms introduces the +additional danger of gaseous forms of gangrene. + +The earlier the wound is disinfected the greater is the possibility of +diminishing this risk. If cleansing is carried out within the first six +hours the chance of eliminating sepsis is good; with every succeeding +six hours it diminishes, until after twenty-four hours it is seldom +possible to do more than mitigate sepsis. (J. T. Morrison.) + +The presence of a metallic foreign body having been determined and its +position localised by means of the X-rays, all devitalised and +contaminated tissue is excised, the foreign material, _e.g._, a missile, +fragments of clothing, gravel and blood-clot, removed, the wound +purified with antiseptics and closed or drained according to +circumstances. + +#Pistol-shot Wounds.#--Wounds inflicted by pistols, revolvers, and small +air-guns are of frequent occurrence in civil practice, the weapon being +discharged usually by accident, but frequently with suicidal, and +sometimes with homicidal intent. + +With all calibres and at all ranges, except actual contact, the wound of +entrance is smaller than the bullet. If the weapon is discharged within +a foot of the body, the skin surrounding the wound is usually stained +with powder and burned, and the hair singed. At ranges varying from six +inches to thirty feet, grains of powder may be found embedded in the +skin or lying loose on the surface, the greater the range the wider +being the area of spread. When black powder is used, the embedded grains +usually leave a permanent bluish-black tattooing of the skin. When the +weapon is placed in contact with the skin, the subcutaneous tissues are +lacerated over an area of two or three inches around the opening made by +the bullet and smoke and powder-staining and scorching are more marked +than at longer ranges. + +When the bullet perforates, the exit wound is usually larger and more +extensively lacerated than the wound of entrance. Its margins are as a +rule everted, and it shows no marks of flame, smoke, or powder. These +features are common to all perforations caused by bullets. + +Pistol wounds only produce dangerous effects when fired at close range, +and when the cavities of the skull, the thorax, or the abdomen are +implicated. In the abdomen a lethal injury may readily be caused even by +pistols of the "toy" order. These injuries will be described with +regional surgery. + +Pistol-shot wounds of _joints_ and _soft parts_ are seldom of serious +import apart from the risk of haemorrhage and of infection. + +_Treatment._--The treatment of wounds of the soft parts consists in +purifying the wounds of entrance and exit and the surrounding skin, and +in providing for drainage if this is indicated. + +There being no urgency for the removal of the bullet, time should be +taken to have it localised by the X-rays, preferably by stereoscopic +plates. In some cases it is not necessary to remove the bullet. + +#Wounds by Sporting Guns.#--In the common sporting or scatter gun, with +which accidents so commonly occur during the shooting season, the charge +of small shot or pellets leave the muzzle of the gun as a solid mass +which makes a single ragged wound having much the appearance of that +caused by a single bullet. At a distance of from four to five feet from +the muzzle the pellets begin to disperse so that there are separate +punctures around the main central wound. As the range increases, these +outlying punctures make a wider and wider pattern, until at a distance +of from eighteen to twenty feet from the muzzle, the scattering is +complete, there is no longer any central wound, and each individual +pellet makes its own puncture. From these elementary data, it is usually +possible, from the features of the wound, to arrive at an approximately +accurate conclusion regarding the range at which the gun was discharged, +and this may have an important bearing on the question of accident, +suicide, or murder. + +As regards the effects on the tissues at close range, that is, within a +few feet, there is widespread laceration and disruption; if a bone is +struck it is shattered, and portions of bone may be displaced or even +driven out through the exit wound. + +When the charge impinges over one of the large cavities of the body, the +shot may scatter widely through the contained viscera, and there is +often no exit wound. In the thorax, for example, if a rib is struck, the +charge and possibly fragments of bone, will penetrate the pleura, and be +dispersed throughout the lung; in the head, the skull may be shattered +and the brain torn up; and in the abdomen, the hollow viscera may be +perforated in many places and the solid organs lacerated. + +On covered parts the clothing, by deflecting the shot, influences the +size and shape of the wound; the entrance wound is increased in size and +more ragged, and portions of the clothes may be driven into the tissues. + +[Illustration: FIG. 62.--Radiogram showing Pellets embedded in Arm. + +(Mr. J. W. Dowden's case.)] + +A charge of small shot is much more destructive to blood vessels, +tendons, and ligaments than a single bullet, which in many cases pushes +such structures aside without dividing them. In the abdomen and chest, +also, the damage done by a full charge of shot is much more extensive +than that inflicted by a single bullet, the deflection of the pellets +leading to a greater number of perforations of the intestine and more +widespread laceration of solid viscera. + +When the charge impinges on one of the extremities at close range, we +often have the opportunity of observing that the exit wound is larger, +more ragged than that of entrance, and that its edges are everted; the +extensive tearing and bruising of all the tissues, including the bones, +and the marked tendency to early and progressive septic infection, +render amputation compulsory in the majority of such cases. + +At a range of from twenty to thirty feet, although the scatter is +complete, the pellets are still close together, so that if they +encounter the shaft of a long bone, even the femur, they fracture the +bone across, often along with some longitudinal splintering. + +Individual pellets striking the shafts of long bones become flattened or +distorted, and when cancellated bone is struck they become embedded in +it (Fig. 62). + +The skin, when it is closely peppered with shot, is liable to lose its +vitality, and with the addition of a little sepsis, readily necroses and +comes away as a slough. + +When the shot have diverged so as to strike singly, they seldom do much +harm, but fatal damage may be done to the brain or to the aorta, or the +eye may be seriously injured by a single pellet. + +Small shot fired at longer ranges--over about a hundred and fifty +feet--usually go through the skin, but seldom pierce the fascia, and lie +embedded in the subcutaneous tissue, from which they can readily be +extracted. + +The wad of the cartridge behaves erratically: so long as it remains flat +it goes off with the rest of the charge, and is often buried in the +wound; but if it curls up or turns on its side, it is usually deflected +and flies clear of the shot. It may make a separate wound. + +Wounds from sporting guns are to be _treated_ on the usual lines, the +early efforts being directed to the alleviation of shock and the +prevention of septic infection. There is rarely any urgency in the +removal of pellets from the tissues. + +#Wounds by Rifle Bullets.#--The vast majority of wounds inflicted by +rifle bullets are met with in the field during active warfare, and fall +to be treated by military surgeons. They occasionally occur +accidentally, however, during range practice for example, and may then +come under the notice of the civil surgeon. + +It is only necessary here to consider the effects of modern small-bore +rifle or machine-gun bullets. + +The trajectory is practically flat up to 675 yards. In destructive +effect there is not much difference between the various high velocity +bullets used in different armies; they will kill up to a distance of two +miles. The hard covering is employed to enable the bullet to take the +grooves in the rifle, and to prevent it stripping as it passes through +the barrel. It also increases the penetrating power of the missile, but +diminishes its "stopping" power, unless a vital part or a long bone is +struck. By removing the covering from the point of the bullet, as is +done in the Dum-Dum bullet, or by splitting the end, the bullet is made +to expand or "mushroom" when it strikes the body, and its stopping power +is thereby greatly increased, the resulting wound being much more +severe. These "soft-nosed" expanding bullets are to be distinguished +from "explosive" bullets which contain substances which detonate on +impact. High velocity bullets are unlikely to lodge in the body unless +spent, or pulled up by a sandbag, or metal buckle on a belt, or a book +in the pocket, or the core and the case separating--"stripping" of the +bullet. Spent shot may merely cause bruising of the surface, or they may +pass through the skin and lodge in the subcutaneous tissue, or may even +damage some deeper structure such as a nerve trunk. + +A blank cartridge fired at close range may cause a severe wound, and, if +charged with black powder, may leave a permanent bluish-black +pigmentation of the skin. + +The lesions of individual tissues--bones, nerves, blood vessels--are +considered with these. + +#Treatment of Gunshot Wounds under War Conditions.#--It is only +necessary to indicate briefly the method of dealing with gunshot wounds +in warfare as practised in the European War. + +1. _On the Field._--Haemorrhage is arrested in the limbs by an improvised +tourniquet; in the head by a pad and bandage; in the thorax or abdomen +by packing if necessary, but this should be avoided if possible, as it +favours septic infection. If a limb is all but detached it should be +completely severed. A full dose of morphin is given hypodermically. The +ampoule of iodine carried by the wounded man is broken, and its contents +are poured over and around the wound, after which the field dressing is +applied. In extensive wounds, the "shell-dressing" carried by the +stretcher bearers is preferred. All bandages are applied loosely to +allow for subsequent swelling. The fragments of fractured bones are +immobilised by some form of emergency splint. + +2. _At the Advanced Dressing Station_, after the patient has had a +liberal allowance of warm fluid nourishment, such as soup or tea, a full +dose of anti-tetanic serum is injected. The tourniquet is removed and +the wound inspected. Urgent amputations are performed. Moribund patients +are detained lest they die _en route_. + +3. _In the Field Ambulance or Casualty Clearing Station_ further +measures are employed for the relief of shock, and urgent operations are +performed, such as amputation for gangrene, tracheotomy for dyspnoea, or +laparotomy for perforated or lacerated intestine. In the majority of +cases the main object is to guard against infection; the skin is +disinfected over a wide area and surrounded with towels; damaged tissue, +especially muscle, is removed with the knife or scissors, and foreign +bodies are extracted. Torn blood vessels, and, if possible, nerves and +tendons are repaired. The wound is then partly closed, provision being +made for free drainage, or some special method of irrigation, such as +that of Carrel, is adopted. Sometimes the wound is treated with bismuth, +iodoform, and paraffin paste (B.I.P.P.) and sutured. + +4. _In the Base Hospital or Hospital Ship_ various measures may be +called for according to the progress of the wound and the condition of +the patient. + +#Shell Wounds and Wounds produced by Explosions.#--It is convenient to +consider together the effects of the bursting of shells fired from heavy +ordnance and those resulting in the course of blasting operations from +the discharge of dynamite or other explosives, or from the bursting of +steam boilers or pipes, the breaking of machinery, and similar accidents +met with in civil practice. + +Wounds inflicted by shell fragments and shrapnel bullets tend to be +extensive in area, and show great contusion, laceration, and destruction +of the tissues. The missiles frequently lodge and carry portions of the +clothing and, it may be, articles from the man's pocket, with them. +Shell wounds are attended with a considerable degree of shock. On +account of the wide area of contusion which surrounds the actual wound +produced by shell fragments, amputation, when called for, should be +performed some distance above the torn tissues, as there is considerable +risk of sloughing of the flaps. + +Wounds produced by dynamite explosions and the bursting of boilers have +the same general characters as shell wounds. Fragments of stone, coal, +or metal may lodge in the tissues, and favour the occurrence of +infective complications. + +All such injuries are to be treated on the general principles governing +contused and lacerated wounds. + + +EMBEDDED FOREIGN BODIES + +In the course of many operations foreign substances are introduced into +the tissues and intentionally left there, for example, suture and +ligature materials, steel or aluminium plates, silver wire or ivory pegs +used to secure the fixation of bones, or solid paraffin employed to +correct deformities. Other substances, such as gauze, drainage tubes, +or metal instruments, may be unintentionally left in a wound. + +Foreign bodies may also lodge in accidentally inflicted wounds, for +example, bullets, needles, splinters of wood, or fragments of clothing. +The needles of hypodermic syringes sometimes break and a portion remains +embedded in the tissues. As a result of explosions, particles of carbon, +in the form of coal-dust or gunpowder, or portions of shale, may lodge +in a wound. + +The embedded foreign body at first acts as an irritant, and induces a +reaction in the tissues in which it lodges, in the form of hyperaemia, +local leucocytosis, proliferation of fibroblasts, and the formation of +granulation tissue. The subsequent changes depend upon whether or not +the wound is infected with pyogenic bacteria. If it is so infected, +suppuration ensues, a sinus forms, and persists until the foreign body +is either cast out or removed. + +If the wound is aseptic, the fate of the foreign body varies with its +character. A substance that is absorbable, such as catgut or fine silk, +is surrounded and permeated by the phagocytes, which soften and +disintegrate it, the debris being gradually absorbed in much the same +manner as a fibrinous exudate. Minute bodies that are not capable of +being absorbed, such as particles of carbon, or of pigment used in +tattooing, are taken up by the phagocytes, and in course of time +removed. Larger bodies, such as needles or bullets, which are not +capable of being destroyed by the phagocytes, become encapsulated. In +the granulation tissue by which they are surrounded large multinuclear +giant-cells appear ("_foreign-body giant-cells_") and attach themselves +to the foreign body, the fibroblasts proliferate and a capsule of scar +tissue is eventually formed around the body. The tissues of the capsule +may show evidence of iron pigmentation. Sometimes fluid accumulates +around a foreign body within its capsule, constituting a cyst. + +Substances like paraffin, strands of silk used to bridge a gap in a +tendon, or portions of calcined bone, instead of being encapsulated, are +gradually permeated and eventually replaced by new connective tissue. + +Embedded bodies may remain in the tissues for an indefinite period +without giving rise to inconvenience. At any time, however, they may +cause trouble, either as a result of infective complications, or by +inducing the formation of a mass of inflammatory tissue around them, +which may simulate a gumma, a tuberculous focus, or a sarcoma. This +latter condition may give rise to difficulties in diagnosis, +particularly if there is no history forthcoming of the entrance of the +foreign body. The ignorance of patients regarding the possible lodgment +in the tissues of a foreign body--even of considerable size--is +remarkable. In such cases the X-rays will reveal the presence of the +foreign body if it is sufficiently opaque to cast a shadow. The heavy, +lead-containing varieties of glass throw very definite shadows little +inferior in sharpness and definition to those of metal; almost all the +ordinary forms of commercial glass also may be shown up by the X-rays. + +Foreign bodies encapsulated in the peritoneal cavity are specially +dangerous, as the proximity of the intestine furnishes a constant +possibility of infection. + +The question of removal of the foreign body must be decided according to +the conditions present in individual cases; in searching for a foreign +body in the tissues, unless it has been accurately located, a general +anaesthetic is to be preferred. + + +BURNS AND SCALDS + +The distinction between a burn which results from the action of dry heat +on the tissues of the body and a scald which results from the action of +moist heat, has no clinical significance. + +In young and debilitated subjects hot poultices may produce injuries of +the nature of burns. In old people with enfeebled circulation mere +exposure to a strong fire may cause severe degrees of burning, the +clothes covering the part being uninjured. This may also occur about the +feet, legs, or knees of persons while intoxicated who have fallen asleep +before the fire. + +The damage done to the tissues by strong caustics, such as fuming nitric +acid, sulphuric acid, caustic potash, nitrate of silver, or arsenical +paste, presents pathological and clinical features almost identical with +those resulting from heat. Electricity and the Rontgen rays also produce +lesions of the nature of burns. + +_Pathology of Burns._--Much discussion has taken place regarding the +explanation of the rapidly fatal issue in extensive superficial burns. +On post-mortem examination the lesions found in these cases are: (1) +general hyperaemia of all the organs of the abdominal, thoracic, and +cerebro-spinal cavities; (2) marked leucocytosis, with destruction of +red corpuscles, setting free haemoglobin which lodges in the epithelial +cells of the tubules of the kidneys; (3) minute thrombi and +extravasations throughout the tissues of the body; (4) degeneration of +the ganglion cells of the solar plexus; (5) oedema and degeneration of +the lymphoid tissue throughout the body; (6) cloudy swelling of the +liver and kidneys, and softening and enlargement of the spleen. Bardeen +suggests that these morbid phenomena correspond so closely to those met +with where the presence of a toxin is known to produce them, that in all +probability death is similarly due to the action of some poison produced +by the action of heat on the skin and on the proteins of the blood. + +#Clinical Features--Local Phenomena.#--The most generally accepted +classification of burns is that of Dupuytren, which is based upon the +depth of the lesion. Six degrees are thus, recognised: (1) hyperaemia or +erythema; (2) vesication; (3) partial destruction of the true skin; (4) +total destruction of the true skin; (5) charring of muscles; (6) +charring of bones. + +It must be observed, however, that burns met with at the bedside always +illustrate more than one of these degrees, the deeper forms always being +associated with those less deep, and the clinical picture is made up of +the combined characters of all. A burn is classified in terms of its +most severe portion. It is also to be remarked that the extent and +severity of a burn usually prove to be greater than at first sight +appears. + +_Burns of the first degree_ are associated with erythema of the skin, +due to hyperaemia of its blood vessels, and result from scorching by +flame, from contact with solids or fluids below 212 F., or from +exposure to the sun's rays. They are characterised clinically by acute +pain, redness, transitory swelling from oedema, and subsequent +desquamation of the surface layers of the epidermis. A special form of +pigmentation of the skin is seen on the front of the legs of women from +exposure to the heat of the fire. + +_Burns of Second Degree--Vesication of the Skin._--These are +characterised by the occurrence of vesicles or blisters which are +scattered over the hyperaemic area, and contain a clear yellowish or +brownish fluid. On removing the raised epidermis, the congested and +highly sensitive papillae of the skin are exposed. Unna has found that +pyogenic bacteria are invariably present in these blisters. Burns of the +second degree leave no scar but frequently a persistent discoloration. +In rare instances the burned area becomes the seat of a peculiar +overgrowth of fibrous tissue of the nature of keloid (p 401). + +_Burns of Third Degree--Partial Destruction of the Skin._--The epidermis +and papillae are destroyed in patches, leaving hard, dry, and insensitive +sloughs of a yellow or black colour. The pain in these burns is +intense, but passes off during the first or second day, to return again, +however, when, about the end of a week, the sloughs separate and expose +the nerve filaments of the underlying skin. Granulations spring up to +fill the gap, and are rapidly covered by epithelium, derived partly from +the margins and partly from the remains of skin glands which have not +been completely destroyed. These latter appear on the surface of the +granulations as small bluish islets which gradually increase in size, +become of a greyish-white colour, and ultimately blend with one another +and with the edges. The resulting cicatrix may be slightly depressed, +but otherwise exhibits little tendency to contract and cause deformity. + +_Burns of Fourth Degree--Total Destruction of the Skin._--These follow +the more prolonged action of any form of intense heat. Large, black, dry +eschars are formed, surrounded by a zone of intense congestion. Pain is +less severe, and is referred to the parts that have been burned to a +less degree. Infection is liable to occur and to lead to wide +destruction of the surrounding skin. The amount of granulation tissue +necessary to fill the gap is therefore great; and as the epithelial +covering can only be derived from the margins--the skin glands being +completely destroyed--the healing process is slow. The resulting scars +are irregular, deep and puckered, and show a great tendency to contract. +Keloid frequently develops in such cicatrices. When situated in the +region of the face, neck, or flexures of joints, much deformity and +impairment of function may result (Fig. 63). + +[Illustration: FIG. 63.--Cicatricial Contraction following Severe Burn.] + +In _burns of the fifth degree_ the lesion extends through the +subcutaneous tissue and involves the muscles; while in those of the +_sixth degree_ it passes still more deeply and implicates the bones. +These burns are comparatively limited in area, as they are usually +produced by prolonged contact with hot metal or caustics. Burns of the +fifth and sixth degrees are met with in epileptics or intoxicated +persons who fall into the fire. Large blood vessels, nerve-trunks, +joints, or serous cavities may be implicated. + +#General Phenomena.#--It is customary to divide the clinical history of +a severe burn into three periods; but it is to be observed that the +features characteristic of the periods have been greatly modified since +burns have been treated on the same lines as other wounds. + +_The first period_ lasts for from thirty-six to forty-eight hours, +during which time the patient remains in a more or less profound state +of _shock_, and there is a remarkable absence of pain. When shock is +absent or little marked, however, the amount of suffering may be great. +When the injury proves fatal during this period, death is due to shock, +probably aggravated by the absorption of poisonous substances produced +in the burned tissues. In fatal cases there is often evidence of +cerebral congestion and oedema. + +The _second period_ begins when the shock passes off, and lasts till the +sloughs separate. The outstanding feature of this period is _toxaemia_, +manifested by fever, the temperature rising to 102, 103, or 104 F., +and congestive or inflammatory conditions of internal organs, giving +rise to such clinical complications as bronchitis, broncho-pneumonia, or +pleurisy--especially in burns of the thorax; or meningitis and +cerebritis, when the neck or head is the seat of the burn. Intestinal +catarrh associated with diarrhoea is not uncommon; and ulceration of the +duodenum leading to perforation has been met with in a few cases. These +phenomena are much more prominent when bacterial infection has taken +place, and it seems probable that they are to be attributed chiefly to +the infection, as they have become less frequent and less severe since +burns have been treated like other breaches of the surface. Albuminuria +is a fairly constant symptom in severe burns, and is associated with +congestion of the kidneys. In burns implicating the face, neck, mouth, +or pharynx, oedema of the glottis is a dangerous complication, entailing +as it does the risk of suffocation. + +The _third period_ begins when the sloughs separate, usually between +the seventh and fourteenth days, and lasts till the wound heals, its +duration depending upon the size, depth, and asepticity of the raw area. +The chief causes of death during this period are toxin absorption in any +of its forms; waxy disease of the liver, kidneys, or intestine; less +commonly erysipelas, tetanus, or other diseases due to infection by +specific organisms. We have seen nothing to substantiate the belief that +duodenal ulcers are liable to perforate during the third period. + +The _prognosis_ in burns depends on (1) the superficial extent, and, to +a much less degree, the depth of the injury. When more than one-third of +the entire surface of the body is involved, even in a mild degree, the +prognosis is grave. (2) The situation of the burn is important. Burns +over the serous cavities--abdomen, thorax, or skull--are, other things +being equal, much more dangerous than burns of the limbs. The risk of +oedema of the glottis in burns about the neck and mouth has already been +referred to. (3) Children are more liable to succumb to shock during the +early period, but withstand prolonged suppuration better than adults. +(4) When the patient survives the shock, the presence or absence of +infection is the all-important factor in prognosis. + +#Treatment.#--The _general treatment_ consists in combating the shock. +When pain is severe, morphin must be injected. + +_Local Treatment._--The local treatment must be carried out on +antiseptic lines, a general anaesthetic being administered, if necessary, +to enable the purification to be carried out thoroughly. After carefully +removing the clothing, the whole of the burned area is gently, but +thoroughly, cleansed with peroxide of hydrogen or warm boracic lotion, +followed by sterilised saline solution. As pyogenic bacteria are +invariably found in the blisters of burns, these must be opened and the +raised epithelium removed. + +The dressings subsequently applied should meet the following +indications: the relief of pain; the prevention of sepsis; and the +promotion of cicatrisation. + +An application which satisfactorily fulfils these requirements is +_picric acid_. Pads of lint or gauze are lightly wrung out of a solution +made up of picric acid, 1.5 drams; absolute alcohol, 3 ounces; +distilled water, 40 ounces, and applied over the whole of the reddened +area. These are covered with antiseptic wool, _without_ any waterproof +covering, and retained in position by a many-tailed bandage. The +dressing should be changed once or twice a week, under the guidance of +the temperature chart, any portion of the original dressing which +remains perfectly dry being left undisturbed. The value of a general +anaesthetic in dressing extensive burns, especially in children, can +scarcely be overestimated. + +Picric acid yields its best results in superficial burns, and it is +useful as _a primary dressing_ in all. As soon as the sloughs separate +and a granulating surface forms, the ordinary treatment for a healing +sore is instituted. Any slough under which pus has collected should be +cut away with scissors to permit of free drainage. + +An occlusive dressing of melted _paraffin_ has also been employed. A +useful preparation consists of: Paraffin molle 25 per cent., paraffin +durum 67 per cent., olive oil 5 per cent., oil of eucalyptus 2 per +cent., and beta-naphthol 1/4 per cent. It has a melting point of 48 C. +It is also known as _Ambrine_ and _Burnol_. After the burned area has +been cleansed and thoroughly dried, it is sponged or painted with the +melted paraffin, and before solidification takes place a layer of +sterilised gauze is applied and covered with a second coating of +paraffin. Further coats of paraffin are applied every other day to +prevent the gauze sticking to the skin. + +An alternative method of treating extensive burns is by immersing the +part, or even the whole body when the trunk is affected, in a bath of +boracic lotion kept at the body temperature, the lotion being frequently +renewed. + +If a burn is already infected when first seen, it is to be treated on +the same principles as govern the treatment of other infected wounds. + +All moist or greasy applications, such as Carron oil, carbolic oil and +ointments, and all substances like collodion and dry powders, which +retain discharges, entirely fail to meet the indications for the +rational treatment of burns, and should be abandoned. + +Skin-grafting is of great value in hastening healing after extensive +burns, and in preventing cicatricial contraction. The _deformities_ +which are so liable to develop from contraction of the cicatrices are +treated on general principles. In the region of the face, neck, and +flexures of joints (Fig. 63), where they are most marked, the contracted +bands may be divided and the parts stretched, the raw surface left being +covered by Thiersch grafts or by flaps of skin raised from adjacent +surfaces or from other parts of the body (Fig. 1). + + +INJURIES PRODUCED BY ELECTRICITY + +#Injuries produced by Exposure to X-Rays and Radium.#--In the routine +treatment of disease by radiations, injury is sometimes done to the +tissues, even when the greatest care is exercised as to dosage and +frequency of application. Robert Knox describes the following +ill-effects. + +_Acute dermatitis_ varying in degree from a slight erythema to deep +ulceration or even necrosis of skin. When ulcers form they are extremely +painful and slow to heal. When hair-bearing areas are affected, +epilation may occur without destroying the hair follicles and the hairs +are reproduced, but if the reaction is excessive permanent alopecia may +result. + +_Chronic dermatitis_, which results from persistence of the acute form, +is most intractable and may assume malignant characters. X-ray warts are +a late manifestation of chronic dermatitis and may become malignant. + +Among the _late manifestations_ are neuritis, telangiectasis, and a +painful and intractable form of ulceration, any of which may come on +months or even years after the cessation of exposure. _Sterility_ may be +induced in X-ray workers who are imperfectly protected from the effects +of the rays. + +#Electrical burns# usually occur in those who are engaged in industrial +undertakings where powerful electrical currents are employed. + +The lesions--which vary from a slight superficial scorching to complete +charring of parts--are most evident at the points of entrance and exit +of the current, the intervening tissues apparently escaping injury. + +The more superficial degrees of electrical burns differ from those +produced by heat in being almost painless, and in healing very slowly, +although as a rule they remain dry and aseptic. + +The more severe forms are attended with a considerable degree of shock, +which is not only more profound, but also lasts much longer than the +shock in an ordinary burn of corresponding severity. The parts at the +point of entrance of the current are charred to a greater or lesser +depth. The eschar is at first dry and crisp, and is surrounded by a zone +of pallor. For the first thirty-six to forty-eight hours there is +comparatively little suffering, but at the end of that time the parts +become exceedingly painful. In a majority of cases, in spite of careful +purification, a slow form of moist gangrene sets in, and the slough +spreads both in area and in depth, until the muscles and often the +large blood vessels and nerves are exposed. A line of demarcation +eventually forms, but the sloughs are exceedingly slow to separate, +taking from three to five times as long as in an ordinary burn, and +during the process of separation there is considerable risk of secondary +haemorrhage from erosion of large vessels. + +_Treatment._--Electrical burns are treated on the same lines as ordinary +burns, by thorough purification and the application of dry dressings, +with a view to avoiding the onset of moist gangrene. After granulations +have formed, skin-grafting is of value in hastening healing. + +#Lightning-stroke.#--In a large proportion of cases lightning-stroke +proves instantly fatal. In non-fatal cases the patient suffers from a +profound degree of shock, and there may or may not be any external +evidence of injury. In the mildest cases red spots or wheals--closely +resembling those of urticaria--may appear on the body, but they usually +fade again in the course of twenty-four hours. Sometimes large patches +of skin are scorched or stained, the discoloured area showing an +arborescent appearance. In other cases the injured skin becomes dry and +glazed, resembling parchment. Appearances are occasionally met with +corresponding to those of a superficial burn produced by heat. The chief +difference from ordinary burns is the extreme slowness with which +healing takes place. Localised paralysis of groups of muscles, or even +of a whole limb, may follow any degree of lightning-stroke. Treatment is +mainly directed towards combating the shock, the surface-lesions being +treated on the same lines as ordinary burns. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +METHODS OF WOUND TREATMENT + + +Varieties of wounds--Modes of infection--Lister's work--Means taken to + prevent infection of wounds: _heat_; _chemical antiseptics_; + _disinfection of hands_; _preparation of skin of patient_; + _instruments_; _ligatures_; _dressings_--Means taken to combat + infection: _purification_; _open-wound method_. + +The surgeon is called upon to treat two distinct classes of wounds: (1) +those resulting from injury or disease in which _the skin is already +broken_, or in which a communication with a mucous surface exists; and +(2) those that he himself makes _through intact skin_, no infected +mucous surface being involved. + +Infection by bacteria must be assumed to have taken place in all wounds +made in any other way than by the knife of the surgeon operating through +unbroken skin. On this assumption the modern system of wound treatment +is based. Pathogenic bacteria are so widely distributed, that in the +ordinary circumstances of everyday life, no matter how trivial a wound +may be, or how short a time it may remain exposed, the access of +organisms to it is almost certain unless preventive measures are +employed. + +It cannot be emphasised too strongly that rigid precautions are to be +taken to exclude fresh infection, not only in dealing with wounds that +are free of organisms, but equally in the management of wounds and other +lesions that are already infected. Any laxity in our methods which +admits of fresh organisms reaching an infected wound adds materially to +the severity of the infective process and consequently to the patient's +risk. + +There are many ways in which accidental infection may occur. Take, for +example, the case of a person who receives a cut on the face by being +knocked down in a carriage accident on the street. Organisms may be +introduced to such a wound from the shaft or wheel by which he was +struck, from the ground on which he lay, from any portion of his +clothing that may have come in contact with the wound, or from his own +skin. Or, again, the hands of those who render first aid, the water used +to bathe the wound, the handkerchief or other extemporised dressing +applied to it, may be the means of conveying bacterial infection. Should +the wound open on a mucous surface, such as the mouth or nasal cavity, +the organisms constantly present in such situations are liable to prove +agents of infection. + +Even after the patient has come under professional care the risks of his +wound becoming infected are not past, because the hands of the doctor, +his instruments, dressings, or other appliances may all, unless +purified, become the sources of infection. + +In the case of an operation carried out through unbroken skin, organisms +may be introduced into the wound from the patient's own skin, from the +hands of the surgeon or his assistants, through the medium of +contaminated instruments, swabs, ligature or suture materials, or other +things used in the course of the operation, or from the dressings +applied to the wound. + +Further, bacteria may gain access to devitalised tissues by way of the +blood-stream, being carried hither from some infected area elsewhere in +the body. + +_The Antiseptic System of Surgery._--Those who only know the surgical +conditions of to-day can scarcely realise the state of matters which +existed before the introduction of the antiseptic system by Joseph +Lister in 1867. In those days few wounds escaped the ravages of pyogenic +and other bacteria, with the result that suppuration ensued after most +operations, and such diseases as erysipelas, pyaemia, and "hospital +gangrene" were of everyday occurrence. The mortality after compound +fractures, amputations, and many other operations was appalling, and +death from blood-poisoning frequently followed even the most trivial +operations. An operation was looked upon as a last resource, and the +inherent risk from blood-poisoning seemed to have set an impassable +barrier to the further progress of surgery. To the genius of Lister we +owe it that this barrier was removed. Having satisfied himself that the +septic process was due to bacterial infection, he devised a means of +preventing the access of organisms to wounds or of counteracting their +effects. Carbolic acid was the first antiseptic agent he employed, and +by its use in compound fractures he soon obtained results such as had +never before been attained. The principle was applied to other +conditions with like success, and so profoundly has it affected the +whole aspect of surgical pathology, that many of the infective diseases +with which surgeons formerly had to deal are now all but unknown. The +broad principles upon which Lister founded his system remain unchanged, +although the methods employed to put them into practice have been +modified. + +#Means taken to Prevent Infection of Wounds.#--The avenues by which +infective agents may gain access to surgical wounds are so numerous and +so wide, that it requires the greatest care and the most watchful +attention on the part of the surgeon to guard them all. It is only by +constant practice and patient attention to technical details in the +operating room and at the bedside, that the carrying out of surgical +manipulations in such a way as to avoid bacterial infection will become +an instinctive act and a second nature. It is only possible here to +indicate the chief directions in which danger lies, and to describe the +means most generally adopted to avoid it. + +To prevent infection, it is essential that everything which comes into +contact with a wound should be sterilised or disinfected, and to ensure +the best results it is necessary that the efficiency of our methods of +sterilisation should be periodically tested. The two chief agencies at +our disposal are heat and chemical antiseptics. + +#Sterilisation by Heat.#--The most reliable, and at the same time the +most convenient and generally applicable, means of sterilisation is by +heat. All bacteria and spores are completely destroyed by being +subjected for fifteen minutes to _saturated circulating steam_ at a +temperature of 130 to 145 C. (= 266 to 293 F.). The articles to be +sterilised are enclosed in a perforated tin casket, which is placed in a +specially constructed steriliser, such as that of Schimmelbusch. This +apparatus is so arranged that the steam circulates under a pressure of +from two to three atmospheres, and permeates everything contained in it. +Objects so sterilised are dry when removed from the steriliser. This +method is specially suitable for appliances which are not damaged by +steam, such, for example, as gauze swabs, towels, aprons, gloves, and +metal instruments; it is essential that the efficiency of the steriliser +be tested from time to time by a self-registering thermometer or other +means. + +The best substitute for circulating steam is _boiling_. The articles are +placed in a "fish-kettle steriliser" and boiled for fifteen minutes in a +1 per cent. solution of washing soda. + +To prevent contamination of objects that have been sterilised they must +on no account be touched by any one whose hands have not been +disinfected and protected by sterilised gloves. + +#Sterilisation by Chemical Agents.#--For the purification of the skin of +the patient, the hands of the surgeon, and knives and other instruments +that are damaged by heat, recourse must be had to chemical agents. +These, however, are less reliable than heat, and are open to certain +other objections. + +#Disinfection of the Hands.#--It is now generally recognised that one of +the most likely sources of wound infection is the hands of the surgeon +and his assistants. It is only by carefully studying to avoid all +contact with infective matter that the hands can be kept surgically +pure, and that this source of wound infection can be reduced to a +minimum. The risk of infection from this source has further been greatly +reduced by the systematic use of rubber gloves by house-surgeons, +dressers, and nurses. The habitual use of gloves has also been adopted +by the great majority of surgeons; the minority, who find they are +handicapped by wearing gloves as a routine measure, are obliged to do so +when operating in infective cases or dressing infected wounds, and in +making rectal and vaginal examinations. + +The gloves may be sterilised by steam, and are then put on dry, or by +boiling, in which case they are put on wet. The gauntlet of the glove +should overlap and confine the end of the sleeve of the sterilised +overall, and the gloved hands are rinsed in lotion before and at +frequent intervals during the operation. The hands are sterilised before +putting on the gloves, preferably by a method which dehydrates the skin. +Cotton gloves may be worn by the surgeon when tying ligatures, or +between operations, and by the anaesthetist during operations on the +head, neck, and chest. + +The first step in the disinfection of the hands is the mechanical +removal of gross surface dirt and loose epithelium by soap, a stream of +running water as hot as can be borne, and a loofah or nail-brush, that +has been previously sterilised by heat. The nails should be cut down +till there is no sulcus between the nail edge and the pulp of the finger +in which organisms may lodge. They are next washed for three minutes in +methylated spirit to dehydrate the skin, and then for two or three +minutes in 70 per cent. sublimate or biniodide alcohol (1 in 1000). +Finally, the hands are rubbed with dry sterilised gauze. + +#Preparation of the Skin of the Patient.#--In the purification of the +skin of the patient before operation, reliance is to be placed chiefly +in the mechanical removal of dirt and grease by the same means as are +taken for the cleansing of the surgeon's hands. Hair-covered parts +should be shaved. The skin is then dehydrated by washing with methylated +spirit, followed by 70 per cent. sublimate or biniodide alcohol (1 in +1000). This is done some hours before the operation, and the part is +then covered with pads of dry sterilised gauze or a sterilised towel. +Immediately before the operation the skin is again purified in the same +way. + +The _iodine method_ of disinfecting the skin introduced by Grossich is +simple, and equally efficient. The day before operation the skin, after +being washed with soap and water, is shaved, dehydrated by means of +methylated spirit, and then painted with a 5 per cent. solution of +iodine in rectified spirit. The painting with iodine is repeated just +before the operation commences, and again after it is completed. The +final application is omitted in the case of children. In emergency +operations the skin is shaved dry and dehydrated with spirit, after +which the iodine is applied as described above. The staining of the skin +is an advantage, as it enables the operator to recognise the area that +has been prepared. + +If any acne pustules or infected sinuses are present, they should be +destroyed or purified by means of the thermo-cautery or pure carbolic +acid, after the patient is anaesthetised. + +#Appliances used at Operation.#--_Instruments_ that are not damaged by +heat must be boiled in a fish-kettle or other suitable steriliser for +fifteen minutes in a 1 per cent. solution of cresol or washing soda. +Just before the operation begins they are removed in the tray of the +steriliser and placed on a sterilised towel within reach of the surgeon +or his assistant. Knives and instruments that are liable to be damaged +by heat should be purified by being soaked in pure cresol for a few +minutes, or in 1 in 20 carbolic for at least an hour. + +_Pads of Gauze_ sterilised by compressed circulating steam have almost +entirely superseded marine sponges for operative purposes. To avoid the +risk of leaving swabs in the peritoneal cavity, large square pads of +gauze, to one corner of which a piece of strong tape about a foot long +is securely stitched, should be employed. They should be removed from +the caskets in which they are sterilised by means of sterilised forceps, +and handed direct to the surgeon. The assistant who attends to the swabs +should wear sterilised gloves. + +_Ligatures and Sutures._--To avoid the risk of implanting infective +matter in a wound by means of the materials used for ligatures and +sutures, great care must be taken in their preparation. + +_Catgut._--The following methods of preparing catgut have proved +satisfactory: (1) The gut is soaked in juniper oil for at least a month; +the juniper oil is then removed by ether and alcohol, and the gut +preserved in 1 in 1000 solution of corrosive sublimate in alcohol +(Kocher). (2) The gut is placed in a brass receiver and boiled for +three-quarters of an hour in a solution consisting of 85 per cent. +absolute alcohol, 10 per cent. water, and 5 per cent. carbolic acid, and +is then stored in 90 per cent. alcohol. (3) Cladius recommends that the +catgut, just as it is bought from the dealers, be loosely rolled on a +spool, and then immersed in a solution of--iodine, 1 part; iodide of +potassium, 1 part; distilled water, 100 parts. At the end of eight days +it is ready for use. Moschcowitz has found that the tensile strength of +catgut so prepared is increased if it is kept dry in a sterile vessel, +instead of being left indefinitely in the iodine solution. If +Salkindsohn's formula is used--tincture of iodine, 1 part; proof spirit, +15 parts--the gut can be kept permanently in the solution without +becoming brittle. To avoid contamination from the hands, catgut should +be removed from the bottle with aseptic forceps and passed direct to the +surgeon. Any portion unused should be thrown away. + +_Silk_ is prepared by being soaked for twelve hours in ether, for other +twelve in alcohol, and then boiled for ten minutes in 1 in 1000 +sublimate solution. It is then wound on spools with purified hands +protected by sterilised gloves, and kept in absolute alcohol. Before an +operation the silk is again boiled for ten minutes in the same solution, +and is used directly from this (Kocher). Linen thread is sterilised in +the same way as silk. + +Fishing-gut and silver wire, as well as the needles, should be boiled +along with the instruments. Horse-hair and fishing-gut may be sterilised +by prolonged immersion in 1 in 20 carbolic, or in the iodine solutions +employed to sterilise catgut. + +The field of operation is surrounded by sterilised towels, clipped to +the edges of the wound, and securely fixed in position so that no +contamination may take place from the surroundings. + +The surgeon and his assistants, including the anaesthetist, wear +overalls sterilised by steam. To avoid the risk of infection from dust, +scurf, or drops of perspiration falling from the head, the surgeon and +his assistants may wear sterilised cotton caps. To obviate the risk of +infection taking place by drops of saliva projected from the mouth in +talking or coughing in the vicinity of a wound, a simple mask may be +worn. + +The risk of infection from the _air_ is now known to be very small, so +long as there is no excess of floating dust. All sweeping, dusting, and +disturbing of curtains, blinds, or furniture must therefore be avoided +before or during an operation. + +It has been shown that the presence of spectators increases the number +of organisms in the atmosphere. In teaching clinics, therefore, the risk +from air infection is greater than in private practice. + +To facilitate primary union, all haemorrhage should be arrested, and the +accumulation of fluid in the wound prevented. When much oozing is +anticipated, a glass or rubber drainage-tube is inserted through a small +opening specially made for the purpose. In aseptic wounds the tube may +be removed in from twenty-four to forty-eight hours, and where it is +important to avoid a scar, the opening should be closed with a Michel's +clip; in infected wounds the tube must remain as long as the discharge +continues. + +The fascia and skin should be brought into accurate apposition by +sutures. If any cavity exists in the deeper part of the wound it should +be obliterated by buried sutures, or by so adjusting the dressing as to +bring its walls into apposition. + +If these precautions have been successful, the wound will heal under the +original dressing, which need not be interfered with for from seven to +ten days, according to the nature of the case. + +#Dressings.#--_Gauze_, sterilised by heat, is almost universally +employed for the dressing of wounds. _Double cyanide gauze_ may be used +in such regions as the neck, axilla, or groin, where complete +sterilisation of the skin is difficult to attain, and where it is +desirable to leave the dressing undisturbed for ten days or more. +_Iodoform_ or _bismuth gauze_ is of special value for the packing of +wounds treated by the open method. + +One variety or another of _wool_, rendered absorbent by the extraction +of its fat, and sterilised by heat, forms a part of almost every +surgical dressing, and various antiseptic agents may be added to it. Of +these, corrosive sublimate is the most generally used. Wood-wool +dressings are more highly and more uniformly absorbent than cotton +wools. As evaporation takes place through wool dressings, the discharge +becomes dried, and so forms an unfavourable medium for bacterial growth. + +Pads of _sphagnum moss_, sterilised by heat, are highly absorbent, and +being economical are used when there is much discharge, and in cases +where a leakage of urine has to be soaked up. + +#Means adopted to combat Infection.#--As has already been indicated, the +same antiseptic precautions are to be taken in dealing with infected as +with aseptic wounds. + +In _recent injuries_ such as result from railway or machinery accidents, +with bruising and crushing of the tissues and grinding of gross dirt +into the wounds, the scissors must be freely used to remove the tissues +that have been devitalised or impregnated with foreign material. +Hair-covered parts should be shaved and the surrounding skin painted +with iodine. Crushed and contaminated portions of bone should be +chiselled away. Opinions differ as to the benefit derived from washing +such wounds with chemical antiseptics, which are liable to devitalise +the tissues with which they come in contact, and so render them less +able to resist the action of any organisms that may remain in them. All +are agreed, however, that free washing with normal salt solution is +useful in mechanically cleansing the injured parts. Peroxide of hydrogen +sprayed over such wounds is also beneficial in virtue of its oxidising +properties. Efficient drainage must be provided, and stitches should be +used sparingly, if at all. + +The best way in which to treat such wounds is by the _open method_. This +consists in packing the wound with iodoform or bismuth gauze, which is +left in position as long as it adheres to the raw surface. The packing +may be renewed at intervals until the wound is filled by granulations; +or, in the course of a few days when it becomes evident that the +infection has been overcome, _secondary_ sutures may be introduced and +the edges drawn together, provision being made at the ends for further +packing or for drainage-tubes. + +If earth or street dirt has entered the wound, the surface may with +advantage be painted over with pure carbolic acid, as virulent +organisms, such as those of tetanus or spreading gangrene, are liable to +be present. Prophylactic injection of tetanus antitoxin may be +indicated. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +CONSTITUTIONAL EFFECTS OF INJURIES + + +SYNCOPE--SHOCK--COLLAPSE--FAT EMBOLISM--TRAUMATIC ASPHYXIA--DELIRIUM + IN SURGICAL PATIENTS: _Delirium in general_; _Delirium tremens_; + _Traumatic delirium_. + + +SYNCOPE, SHOCK, AND COLLAPSE + +Syncope, shock, and collapse are clinical conditions which, although +depending on different causes, bear a superficial resemblance to one +another. + +#Syncope or Fainting.#--Syncope is the result of a suddenly produced +anaemia of the brain from temporary weakening or arrest of the heart's +action. In surgical practice, this condition is usually observed in +nervous persons who have been subjected to pain, as in the reduction of +a dislocation or the incision of a whitlow; or in those who have rapidly +lost a considerable quantity of blood. It may also follow the sudden +withdrawal of fluid from a large cavity, as in tapping an abdomen for +ascites, or withdrawing fluid from the pleural cavity. Syncope sometimes +occurs also during the administration of a general anaesthetic, +especially if there is a tendency to sickness and the patient is not +completely under. During an operation the onset of syncope is often +recognised by the cessation of oozing from the divided vessels before +the general symptoms become manifest. + +_Clinical Features._--When a person is about to faint he feels giddy, +has surging sounds in his ears, and haziness of vision; he yawns, +becomes pale and sick, and a free flow of saliva takes place into the +mouth. The pupils dilate; the pulse becomes small and almost +imperceptible; the respirations shallow and hurried; consciousness +gradually fades away, and he falls in a heap on the floor. + +Sometimes vomiting ensues before the patient completely loses +consciousness, and the muscular exertion entailed may ward off the +actual faint. This is frequently seen in threatened syncopal attacks +during chloroform administration. + +Recovery begins in a few seconds, the patient sighing or gasping, or, it +may be, vomiting; the strength of the pulse gradually increases, and +consciousness slowly returns. In some cases, however, syncope is fatal. + +_Treatment._--The head should at once be lowered--in imitation of +nature's method--to encourage the flow of blood to the brain, the +patient, if necessary, being held up by the heels. All tight clothing, +especially round the neck or chest, must be loosened. The heart may be +stimulated reflexly by dashing cold water over the face or chest, or by +rubbing the face vigorously with a rough towel. The application of +volatile substances, such as ammonia or smelling-salts, to the nose; the +administration by the mouth of sal-volatile, whisky or brandy, and the +intra-muscular injection of ether, are the most speedily efficacious +remedies. In severe cases the application of hot cloths over the heart, +or of the faradic current over the line of the phrenic nerve, just above +the clavicle, may be called for. + +#Surgical Shock.#--The condition known as surgical shock may be looked +upon as a state of profound exhaustion of the mechanism that exists in +the body for the transformation of energy. This mechanism consists of +(1) the _brain_, which, through certain special centres, regulates all +vital activity; (2) the _adrenal glands_, the secretion of +which--adrenalin--acting as a stimulant of the sympathetic system, so +controls the tone of the blood vessels as to maintain efficient +oxidation of the tissues; and (3) _the liver_, which stores and delivers +glycogen as it is required by the muscles, and in addition, deals with +the by-products of metabolism. + +Crile and his co-workers have shown that in surgical shock histological +changes occur in the cells of the brain, the adrenals, and the liver, +and that these are identical, whatever be the cause that leads to the +exhaustion of the energy-transforming mechanism. These changes vary in +degree, and range from slight alterations in the structure of the +protoplasm to complete disorganisation of the cell elements. + +The influences which contribute to bring about this form of exhaustion +that we call shock are varied, and include such emotional states as +fear, anxiety, or worry, physical injury and toxic infection, and the +effects of these factors are augmented by anything that tends to lower +the vitality, such as loss of blood, exposure, insufficient food, loss +of sleep or antecedent illness. + +Any one or any combination of these influences may cause shock, but the +most potent, and the one which most concerns the surgeon, is physical +injury, _e.g._, a severe accident or an operation (_traumatic shock_). +This is usually associated with some emotional disturbance, such as fear +or anxiety (_emotional shock_), or with haemorrhage; and may be followed +by septic infection (_toxic shock_). + +The exaggerated afferent impulses reaching the brain as a result of +trauma, inhibit the action of the nuclei in the region of the fourth +ventricle and cerebellum which maintain the muscular tone, with the +result that the muscular tone is diminished and there is a marked fall +in the arterial blood pressure. The capillaries dilate--the blood +stagnating in them and giving off its oxygen and transuding its fluid +elements into the tissues--with the result that an insufficient quantity +of oxygenated blood reaches the heart to enable it to maintain an +efficient circulation. As the sarco-lactic acid liberated in the muscles +is not oxygenated a condition of acidosis ensues. + +The more highly the injured part is endowed with sensory nerves the more +marked is the shock; a crush of the hand, for example, is attended with +a more intense degree of shock than a correspondingly severe crush of +the foot; and injuries of such specially innervated parts as the testis, +the urethra, the face, or the spinal cord, are associated with severe +degrees, as are also those of parts innervated from the sympathetic +system, such as the abdominal or thoracic viscera. It is to be borne in +mind that a state of general anaesthesia does not prevent injurious +impulses reaching the brain and causing shock during an operation. If +the main nerves of the part are "blocked" by injection of a local +anaesthetic, however, the central nervous system is protected from these +impulses. + +While the aged frequently manifest but few signs of shock, they have a +correspondingly feeble power of recovery; and while many young children +suffer little, even after severe operations, others with much less cause +succumb to shock. + +When the injured person's mind is absorbed with other matters than his +own condition,--as, for example, during the heat of a battle or in the +excitement of a railway accident or a conflagration,--even severe +injuries may be unattended by pain or shock at the time, although when +the period of excitement is over, the severity of the shock is all the +greater. The same thing is observed in persons injured while under the +influence of alcohol. + +_Clinical Features._--The patient is in a state of prostration. He is +roused from his condition of indifference with difficulty, but answers +questions intelligently, if only in a whisper. The face is pale, beads +of sweat stand out on the brow, the features are drawn, the eyes +sunken, and the cheeks hollow. The lips and ears are pallid; the skin of +the body of a greyish colour, cold, and clammy. The pulse is rapid, +fluttering, and often all but imperceptible at the wrist; the +respiration is irregular, shallow, and sighing; and the temperature may +fall to 96 F. or even lower. The mouth is parched, and the patient +complains of thirst. There is little sensibility to pain. + +Except in very severe cases, shock tends towards recovery within a few +hours, the _reaction_, as it is called, being often ushered in by +vomiting. The colour improves; the pulse becomes full and bounding; the +respiration deeper and more regular; the temperature rises to 100 F. or +higher; and the patient begins to take notice of his surroundings. The +condition of neurasthenia which sometimes follows an operation may be +associated with the degenerative changes in nerve cells described by +Crile. + +In certain cases the symptoms of traumatic shock blend with those +resulting from toxin absorption, and it is difficult to estimate the +relative importance of the two factors in the causation of the +condition. The conditions formerly known as "delayed shock" and +"prostration with excitement" are now generally recognised to be due to +toxaemia. + +_Question of Operating during Shock._--Most authorities agree that +operations should only be undertaken during profound shock when they are +imperatively demanded for the arrest of haemorrhage, the prevention of +infection of serous cavities, or for the relief of pain which is +producing or intensifying the condition. + +_Prevention of Operation Shock._--In the preparation of a patient for +operation, drastic purgation and prolonged fasting must be avoided, and +about half an hour before a severe operation a pint of saline solution +should be slowly introduced into the rectum; this is repeated, if +necessary, during the operation, and at its conclusion. The +operating-room must be warm--not less than 70 F.--and the patient +should be wrapped in cotton wool and blankets, and surrounded by +hot-bottles. All lotions used must be warm (100 F.); and the operation +should be completed as speedily and as bloodlessly as possible. The +element of fear may to some extent be eliminated by the preliminary +administration of such drugs as scopolamin or morphin, and with a view +to preventing the passage of exciting afferent impulses, Crile advocates +"blocking" of the nerves by the injection of a 1 per cent. solution of +novocaine into their substance on the proximal side of the field of +operation. To prevent after-pain in abdominal wounds he recommends +injecting the edges with quinine and urea hydrochlorate before suturing, +the resulting anaesthesia lasting for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. +To these preventive measures the term _anoci-association_ has been +applied. In selecting an anaesthetic, it may be borne in mind that +chloroform lowers the blood pressure more than ether does, and that with +spinal anaesthesia there is no lowering of the blood pressure. + +_Treatment._--A patient suffering from shock should be placed in the +recumbent position, with the foot of the bed raised to facilitate the +return circulation in the large veins, and so to increase the flow of +blood to the brain. His bed should be placed near a large fire, and the +patient himself surrounded by cotton wool and blankets and hot-bottles. +If he has lost much blood, the limbs should be wrapped in cotton wool +and firmly bandaged from below upwards, to conserve as much of the +circulating blood as possible in the trunk and head. If the shock is +moderate in degree, as soon as the patient has been put to bed, about a +pint of saline solution should be introduced into the rectum, and 10 to +15 minims of adrenalin chloride (1 in 1000) may with advantage be added +to the fluid. The injection should be repeated every two hours until the +circulation is sufficiently restored. In severe cases, especially when +associated with haemorrhage, transfusion of whole blood from a compatible +donor, is the most efficient means (_Op. Surg._, p. 37). Cardiac +stimulants such as strychnin, digitalin, or strophanthin are +contra-indicated in shock, as they merely exhaust the already impaired +vaso-motor centre. + +Artificial respiration may be useful in tiding a patient over the +critical period of shock, especially at the end of a severe operation. + +Failing this, the introduction of saline solution at a temperature of +about 105 F. into a vein or into the subcutaneous tissue is useful +where much blood has been lost (p. 276). Two or three pints may be +injected into a vein, or smaller quantities under the skin. + +Thirst is best met by giving small quantities of warm water by the +mouth, or by the introduction of saline solution into the rectum. Ice +only relieves thirst for a short time, and as it is liable to induce +flatulence should be avoided, especially in abdominal cases. Dryness of +the tongue may be relieved by swabbing the mouth with a mixture of +glycerine and lemon juice. + +If severe pain calls for the use of morphin, 1/120th grain of atropin +should be added, or heroin alone may be given in doses of 1/24th to +1/12th grain. + +#Collapse# is a clinical condition which comes on more insidiously than +shock, and which does not attain its maximum degree of severity for +several hours. It is met with in the course of severe illnesses, +especially such as are associated with the loss of large quantities of +fluid from the body--for example, by severe diarrhoea, notably in Asiatic +cholera; by persistent vomiting; or by profuse sweating, as in some +cases of heat-stroke. Severe degrees of collapse follow sudden and +profuse loss of blood. + +Collapse often follows upon shock--for example, in intestinal +perforations, or after abdominal operations complicated by peritonitis, +especially if there is vomiting, as in cases of obstruction high up in +the intestine. The symptoms of collapse are aggravated if toxin +absorption is superadded to the loss of fluid. + +The _clinical features_ of this condition are practically the same as +those of shock; and it is treated on the same lines. + +FAT EMBOLISM.--After various injuries and operations, but +especially such as implicate the marrow of long bones--for example, +comminuted fractures, osteotomies, resections of joints, or the forcible +correction of deformities--fluid fat may enter the circulation in +variable quantity. In the vast majority of cases no ill effects follow, +but when the quantity is large or when the absorption is long continued +certain symptoms ensue, either immediately, or more frequently not for +two or three days. These are mostly referable to the lungs and brain. + +In the lung the fat collects in the minute blood vessels and produces +venous congestion and oedema, and sometimes pneumonia. Dyspnoea, with +cyanosis, a persistent cough and frothy or blood-stained sputum, a +feeble pulse and low temperature, are the chief symptoms. + +When the fat lodges in the capillaries of the brain, the pulse becomes +small, rapid, and irregular, delirium followed by coma ensues, and the +condition is usually rapidly fatal. + +Fat is usually to be detected in the urine, even in mild cases. + +The _treatment_ consists in tiding the patient over the acute stage of +his illness, until the fat is eliminated from the blood vessels. + +TRAUMATIC ASPHYXIA OR TRAUMATIC CYANOSIS.--This term has been +applied to a condition which results when the thorax is so forcibly +compressed that respiration is mechanically arrested for several +minutes. It has occurred from being crushed in a struggling crowd, or +under a fall of masonry, and in machinery accidents. When the patient is +released, the face and the neck as low down as the level of the +clavicles present an intense coloration, varying from deep purple to +blue-black. The affected area is sharply defined, and on close +inspection the appearance is found to be due to the presence of +countless minute reddish-blue or black spots, with small areas or +streaks of normal skin between them. The punctate nature of the +coloration is best recognised towards the periphery of the affected +area--at the junction of the brow with the hairy scalp, and where the +dark patch meets the normal skin of the chest (Beach and Cobb). Pressure +over the skin does not cause the colour to disappear as in ordinary +cyanosis. It has been shown by Wright of Boston, that the coloration is +due to stasis from mechanical over-distension of the veins and +capillaries; actual extravasation into the tissues is exceptional. The +sharply defined distribution of the coloration is attributed to the +absence of functionating valves in the veins of the head and neck, so +that when the increased intra-thoracic pressure is transmitted to these +veins they become engorged. Under the conjunctivae there are +extravasations of bright red blood; and sublingual haematoma has been +observed (Beatson). + +The discoloration begins to fade within a few hours, and after the +second or third day it disappears, without showing any of the chromatic +changes which characterise a bruise. The sub-conjunctival ecchymosis, +however, persists for several weeks and disappears like other +extravasations. Apart from combating the shock, or dealing with +concomitant injuries, no treatment is called for. + + +DELIRIUM IN SURGICAL PATIENTS + +Delirium is a temporary disturbance of mind which occurs in the course +of certain diseases, and sometimes after injuries or operations. It may +be associated with any of the acute pyogenic infections; with +erysipelas, especially when it affects the head or face; or with chronic +infective diseases of the urinary organs. In the various forms of +meningitis also, and in some cases of injury to the head, it is common; +and it is sometimes met with after severe haemorrhage, and in cases of +poisoning by such drugs as iodoform, cocain, or alcohol. Delirium may +also, of course, be a symptom of insanity. + +Often there is merely incoherent muttering regarding past incidents or +occupations, or about absent friends; or the condition may assume the +form of excitement, of dementia, or of melancholia; and the symptoms are +usually worst at night. + +#Delirium Tremens# is seen in persons addicted to alcohol, who, as the +result of accident or operation, are suddenly compelled to lie in bed. +Although oftenest met with in habitual drunkards or chronic tipplers, it +is by no means uncommon in moderate drinkers, and has even been seen in +children. + +_Clinical Features._--The delirium, which has been aptly described as +being of a "busy" character, usually manifests itself within a few days +of the patient being laid up. For two or three days he refuses food, is +depressed, suspicious, sleepless and restless, demanding to be allowed +up. Then he begins to mutter incoherently, to pull off the bedclothes, +and to attempt to get out of bed. There is general muscular tremor, most +marked in the tongue, the lips, and the hands. The patient imagines that +he sees all sorts of horrible beings around him, and is sometimes +greatly distressed because of rats, mice, beetles, or snakes, which he +fancies are crawling over him. The pulse is soft, rapid, and +compressible; the temperature is only moderately raised (100-101 F.), +and as a rule there is profuse sweating. The digestion is markedly +impaired, and there is often vomiting. Patients in this condition are +peculiarly insensitive to pain, and may even walk about with a fractured +leg without apparent discomfort. + +In most cases the symptoms begin to pass off in three or four days; the +patient sleeps, the hallucinations and tremors cease, and he gradually +recovers. In other cases the temperature rises, the pulse becomes rapid, +and death results from exhaustion. + +The main indication in _treatment_ is to secure sleep, and this is done +by the administration of bromides, chloral, or paraldehyde, or of one or +other of the drugs of which sulphonal, trional, and veronal are +examples. Heroin in doses of from 1/24th to 1/12th grain is often of +service. Morphin must be used with great caution. In some cases hyoscin +(1/200 grain) injected hypodermically is found efficacious when all +other means have failed, but this drug must be used with great +discrimination. The patient must be encouraged to take plenty of easily +digested fluid food, supplemented, if necessary, by nutrient enemata and +saline infusions. + +In the early stage a brisk mercurial purge is often of value. Alcohol +should be withheld, unless failing of the pulse strongly indicates its +use, and then it should be given along with the food. + +A delirious patient must be constantly watched by a trained attendant or +other competent person, lest he get out of bed and do harm to himself or +others. Mechanical restraint is often necessary, but must be avoided if +possible, as it is apt to increase the excitement and exhaust the +patient. On account of the extreme restlessness, there is often great +difficulty in carrying out the proper treatment of the primary surgical +condition, and considerable modifications in splints and other +appliances are often rendered necessary. + +A form of delirium, sometimes spoken of as #Traumatic Delirium#, may +follow on severe injuries or operations in persons of neurotic +temperament, or in those whose nervous system is exhausted by overwork. +It is met with apart from alcoholic intemperance. This form of delirium +seems to be specially prone to ensue on operations on the face, the +thyreoid gland, or the genito-urinary organs. The symptoms appear in +from two to five days after the operation, and take the form of +restlessness, sleeplessness, low incoherent muttering, and picking at +the bedclothes. It is not necessarily attended by fever or by muscular +tremors. The patient may show hysterical symptoms. This condition is +probably to be regarded as a form of insanity, as it is liable to merge +into mania or melancholia. + +The _treatment_ is carried out on the same lines as that of delirium +tremens. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE BLOOD VESSELS + + +Anatomy--INJURIES OF ARTERIES: _Varieties_--INJURIES OF + VEINS: _Air Embolism_--Repair of blood vessels and natural + arrest of haemorrhage--HAEMORRHAGE: _Varieties_; + _Prevention_; _Arrest_--Constitutional effects of + haemorrhage--Haemophilia--DISEASES OF BLOOD VESSELS: + Thrombosis; Embolism--Arteritis: _Varieties_; + Arterio-sclerosis--Thrombo-phlebitis--Phlebitis: + _Varieties_--VARIX--ANGIOMATA--Naevus: _Varieties_; + _Electrolysis_--Cirsoid aneurysm--ANEURYSM: _Varieties_; + _Methods of treatment_--ANEURYSMS OF INDIVIDUAL ARTERIES. + +#Surgical Anatomy.#--An _artery_ has three coats: an internal coat--the +_tunica intima_--made up of a single layer of endothelial cells lining +the lumen; outside of this a layer of delicate connective tissue; and +still farther out a dense tissue composed of longitudinally arranged +elastic fibres--the internal elastic lamina. The tunica intima is easily +ruptured. The middle coat, or _tunica media_, consists of non-striped +muscular fibres, arranged for the most part concentrically round the +vessel. In this coat also there is a considerable proportion of elastic +tissue, especially in the larger vessels. The thickness of the vessel +wall depends chiefly on the development of the muscular coat. The +external coat, or _tunica externa_, is composed of fibrous tissue, +containing, especially in vessels of medium calibre, some yellow elastic +fibres in its deeper layers. + +In most parts of the body the arteries lie in a sheath of connective +tissue, from which fine fibrous processes pass to the tunica externa. +The connection, however, is not a close one, and the artery when divided +transversely is capable of retracting for a considerable distance within +its sheath. In some of the larger arteries the sheath assumes the form +of a definite membrane. + +The arteries are nourished by small vessels--the _vasa vasorum_--which +ramify chiefly in the outer coat. They are also well supplied with +nerves, which regulate the size of the lumen by inducing contraction or +relaxation of the muscular coat. + +The _veins_ are constructed on the same general plan as the arteries, +the individual coats, however, being thinner. The inner coat is less +easily ruptured, and the middle coat contains a smaller proportion of +muscular tissue. In one important point veins differ structurally from +arteries--namely, in being provided with valves which prevent reflux of +the blood. These valves are composed of semilunar folds of the tunica +intima strengthened by an addition of connective tissue. Each valve +usually consists of two semilunar flaps attached to opposite sides of +the vessel wall, each flap having a small sinus on its cardiac side. +The distension of these sinuses with blood closes the valve and +prevents regurgitation. Valves are absent from the superior and inferior +venae cavae, the portal vein and its tributaries, the hepatic, renal, +uterine, and spermatic veins, and from the veins in the lower part of +the rectum. They are ill-developed or absent also in the iliac and +common femoral veins--a fact which has an important bearing on the +production of varix in the veins of the lower extremity. + +The wall of _capillaries_ consists of a single layer of endothelial +cells. + + +HAEMORRHAGE + +Various terms are employed in relation to haemorrhage, according to its +seat, its origin, the time at which it occurs, and other circumstances. + +The term _external haemorrhage_ is employed when the blood escapes on the +surface; when the bleeding takes place into the tissues or into a cavity +it is spoken of as _internal_. The blood may infiltrate the connective +tissue, constituting an _extravasation_ of blood; or it may collect in a +space or cavity and form a _haematoma_. + +The coughing up of blood from the lungs is known as _haemoptysis_; +vomiting of blood from the stomach, as _haematemesis_; the passage of +black-coloured stools due to the presence of blood altered by digestion, +as _melaena_; and the passage of bloody urine, as _haematuria_. + +Haemorrhage is known as arterial, venous, or capillary, according to the +nature of the vessel from which it takes place. + +In _arterial_ haemorrhage the blood is bright red in colour, and escapes +from the cardiac end of the divided vessel in pulsating jets +synchronously with the systole of the heart. In vascular parts--for +example the face--both ends of a divided artery bleed freely. The blood +flowing from an artery may be dark in colour if the respiration is +impeded. When the heart's action is weak and the blood tension low the +flow may appear to be continuous and not in jets. The blood from a +divided artery at the bottom of a deep wound, escapes on the surface in +a steady flow. + +_Venous_ bleeding is not pulsatile, but occurs in a continuous stream, +which, although both ends of the vessel may bleed, is more copious from +the distal end. The blood is dark red under ordinary conditions, but may +be purplish, or even black, if the respiration is interfered with. When +one of the large veins in the neck is wounded, the effects of +respiration produce a rise and fall in the stream which may resemble +arterial pulsation. + +In _capillary_ haemorrhage, red blood escapes from numerous points on the +surface of the wound in a steady ooze. This form of bleeding is serious +in those who are the subjects of haemophilia. + + +INJURIES OF ARTERIES + +The following description of the injuries of arteries refers to the +larger, named trunks. The injuries of smaller, unnamed vessels are +included in the consideration of wounds and contusions. + +#Contusion.#--An artery may be contused by a blow or crush, or by the +oblique impact of a bullet. The bruising of the vessel wall, especially +if it is diseased, may result in the formation of a thrombus which +occludes the lumen temporarily or even permanently, and in rare cases +may lead to gangrene of the limb beyond. + +#Subcutaneous Rupture.#--An artery may be ruptured subcutaneously by a +blow or crush, or by a displaced fragment of bone. This injury has been +produced also during attempts to reduce dislocations, especially those +of old standing at the shoulder. It is most liable to occur when the +vessels are diseased. The rupture may be incomplete or complete. + +_Incomplete Subcutaneous Rupture._--In the majority of cases the rupture +is incomplete--the inner and middle coats being torn, while the outer +remains intact. The middle coat contracts and retracts, and the +internal, because of its elasticity, curls up in the interior of the +vessel, forming a valvular obstruction to the blood-flow. In most cases +this results in the formation of a thrombus which occludes the vessel. +In some cases the blood-pressure gradually distends the injured segment +of the vessel wall and leads to the formation of an aneurysm. + +The pulsation in the vessels beyond the seat of rupture is arrested--for +a time at least--owing to the occlusion of the vessel, and the limb +becomes cold and powerless. The pulsation seldom returns within five or +six weeks of the injury, if indeed it is not permanently arrested, but, +as a rule, a collateral circulation is rapidly established, sufficient +to nourish the parts beyond. If the pulsation returns within a week of +the injury, the presumption is that the occlusion was due to pressure +from without--for example, by haemorrhage into the sheath or the pressure +of a fragment of bone. + +_Complete Subcutaneous Rupture._--When the rupture is complete, all the +coats of the vessel are torn and the blood escapes into the surrounding +tissues. If the original injury is attended with much shock, the +bleeding may not take place until the period of reaction. Rupture of the +popliteal artery in association with fracture of the femur, or of the +axillary or brachial artery with fracture of the humerus or dislocation +of the shoulder, are familiar examples of this injury. + +Like incomplete rupture, this lesion is accompanied by loss of pulsation +and power, and by coldness of the limb beyond; a tense and excessively +painful swelling rapidly appears in the region of the injury, and, where +the cellular tissue is loose, may attain a considerable size. The +pressure of the effused blood occludes the veins and leads to congestion +and oedema of the limb beyond. The interference with the circulation, and +the damage to the tissues, may be so great that gangrene ensues. + +_Treatment._--When an artery has been contused or ruptured, the limb +must be placed in the most favourable condition for restoration of the +circulation. The skin is disinfected and the limb wrapped in cotton wool +to conserve its heat, and elevated to such an extent as to promote the +venous return without at the same time interfering with the inflow of +blood. A careful watch must be kept on the state of nutrition of the +limb, lest gangrene occurs. + +If no complications supervene, the swelling subsides, and recovery may +be complete in six or eight weeks. If the extravasation is great and the +skin threatens to give way, or if the vitality of the limb is seriously +endangered, it is advisable to expose the injured vessel, and, after +clearing away the clots, to attempt to suture the rent in the artery, +or, if torn across, to join the ends after paring the bruised edges. If +this is impracticable, a ligature is applied above and below the +rupture. If gangrene ensues, amputation must be performed. + +These descriptions apply to the larger arteries of the extremities. A +good illustration of subcutaneous rupture of the arteries of the head is +afforded by the tearing of the middle meningeal artery caused by the +application of blunt violence to the skull; and of the arteries of the +trunk--caused by the tearing of the renal artery in rupture of the +kidney. + +#Open Wounds of Arteries--Laceration.#--Laceration of large arteries is +a common complication of machinery and railway accidents. The violence +being usually of a tearing, twisting, or crushing nature, such injuries +are seldom associated with much haemorrhage, as torn or crushed vessels +quickly become occluded by contraction and retraction of their coats and +by the formation of a clot. A whole limb even may be avulsed from the +body with comparatively little loss of blood. The risk in such cases is +secondary haemorrhage resulting from pyogenic infection. + +The _treatment_ is that applicable to all wounds, with, in addition, the +ligation of the lacerated vessels. + +#Punctured wounds# of blood vessels may result from stabs, or they may +be accidentally inflicted in the course of an operation. + +The division of the coats of the vessel being incomplete, the natural +haemostasis that results from curling up of the intima and contraction of +the media, fails to take place, and bleeding goes on into the +surrounding tissues, and externally. If the sheath of the vessel is not +widely damaged, the gradually increasing tension of the extravasated +blood retained within it may ultimately arrest the haemorrhage. A clot +then forms between the lips of the wound in the vessel wall and projects +for a short distance into the lumen, without, however, materially +interfering with the flow through the vessel. The organisation of this +clot results in the healing of the wound in the vessel wall. + +In other cases the blood escapes beyond the sheath and collects in the +surrounding tissues, and a traumatic aneurysm results. Secondary +haemorrhage may occur if the wound becomes infected. + +The _treatment_ consists in enlarging the external wound to permit of +the damaged vessel being ligated above and below the puncture. In some +cases it may be possible to suture the opening in the vessel wall. When +circumstances prevent these measures being taken, the bleeding may be +arrested by making firm pressure over the wound with a pad; but this +procedure is liable to be followed by the formation of an aneurysm. + +_Minute puncture of arteries_ such as frequently occur in the hypodermic +administration of drugs and in the use of exploring needles, are not +attended with any escape of blood, chiefly because of the elastic recoil +of the arterial wall; a tiny thrombus of platelets and thrombus forms at +the point where the intima is punctured. + +#Incised Wounds.#--We here refer only to such incised wounds as partly +divide the vessel wall. + +Longitudinal wounds show little tendency to gape, and are therefore not +attended with much bleeding. They usually heal rapidly, but, like +punctured wounds, are liable to be followed by the formation of an +aneurysm. + +When, however, the incision in the vessel wall is oblique or transverse, +the retraction of the muscular coat causes the opening to gape, with the +result that there is haemorrhage, which, even in comparatively small +arteries, may be so profuse as to prove dangerous. When the associated +wound in the soft parts is valvular the haemorrhage is arrested and an +aneurysm may develop. + +When a large arterial trunk, such as the external iliac, the femoral, +the common carotid, the brachial, or the popliteal, has been partly +divided, for example, in the course of an operation, the opening should +be closed with sutures--_arteriorrhaphy_. The circulation being +controlled by a tourniquet, or the artery itself occluded by a clamp, +fine silk or catgut stitches are passed through the outer and middle +coats after the method of Lembert, a fine, round needle being employed. +The sheath of the vessel or an adjacent fascia should be stitched +over the line of suture in the vessel wall. If infection be excluded, +there is little risk of thrombosis or secondary haemorrhage; and even if +thrombosis should develop at the point of suture, the artery is +obstructed gradually, and the establishment of a collateral circulation +takes place better than after ligation. In the case of smaller trunks, +or when suture is impracticable, the artery should be tied above and +below the opening, and divided between the ligatures. + +#Gunshot Wounds of Blood Vessels.#--In the majority of cases injuries of +large vessels are associated with an external wound; the profusion of +the bleeding indicates the size of the damaged vessel, and the colour of +the blood and the nature of the flow denote whether an artery or a vein +is implicated. + +When an artery is wounded a firm _haematoma_ may form, with an expansile +pulsation and a palpable thrill--whether such a haematoma remains +circumscribed or becomes diffuse depends upon the density or laxity of +the tissues around it. In course of time a _traumatic arterial aneurysm_ +may develop from such a haematoma. + +When an artery and its companion vein are injured simultaneously an +_arterio-venous aneurysm_ (p. 310) may develop. This frequently takes +place without the formation of a haematoma as the arterial blood finds +its way into the vein and so does not escape into the tissues. Even if a +haematoma forms it seldom assumes a great size. In time a swelling is +recognised, with a palpable thrill and a systolic bruit, loudest at the +level of the communication and accompanied by a continuous venous hum. + +If leakage occurs into the tissues, the extravasated blood may occlude +the vein by pressure, and the symptoms of arterial aneurysm replace +those of the arterio-venous form, the systolic bruit persisting, while +the venous hum disappears. + +_Gangrene_ may ensue if the blood supply is seriously interfered with, +or the signs of _ischaemia_ may develop; the muscles lose their +elasticity, become hard and paralysed, and anaesthesia of the "glove" or +"stocking" type, with other alterations of sensation ensue. Apart from +ischaemia, _reflex paralysis_ of motion and sensation of a transient kind +may follow injury of a large vessel. + +_Treatment_ is carried out on the same lines as for similar injuries due +to other causes. + + +INJURIES OF VEINS + +Veins are subject to the same forms of injury as arteries, and the +results are alike in both, such variations as occur being dependent +partly on the difference in their anatomical structure, and partly on +the conditions of the circulation through them. + +#Subcutaneous rupture# of veins occur most frequently in association +with fractures and in the reduction of dislocations. The veins most +commonly ruptured are the popliteal, the axillary, the femoral, and the +subclavian. On account of the smaller amount of elastic and muscular +tissue in the wall of a vein, the contraction and retraction of its +walls are less than in an artery, and so bleeding may continue for a +longer period. On the other hand, owing to the lower blood-pressure the +outflow goes on more slowly, and the gradually increasing pressure +produced by the extravasated blood is usually sufficient to arrest the +haemorrhage before it becomes serious. As an aid in diagnosing the source +of the bleeding, it should be remembered that the rupture of a vein does +not affect the pulsation in the limb beyond. The risks are practically +the same as when an artery is ruptured, excepting that of aneurysm, and +the treatment is carried out on the same lines, but it is seldom +necessary to operate for the purpose of applying a ligature to the +injured vein. + +#Wounds# of veins--punctured and incised--frequently occur in the course +of operations; for example, in the removal of tumours or diseased glands +from the neck, the axilla, or the groin. They are also met with as a +result of accidental stabs and of suicidal or homicidal injuries. The +haemorrhage from a large vein so damaged is usually profuse, but it is +more readily controlled by external pressure than that from an artery. +When a vein is merely punctured, the bleeding may be arrested by +pressure with a pad of gauze, or by a lateral ligature--that is, picking +up the margins of the rent in the wall and securing them with a +ligature without occluding the lumen. In the large veins, such as the +internal jugular, the femoral, or the axillary, it is usually possible +to suture the opening in the wall. This does not necessarily result in +thrombosis in the vessel, or in obliteration of its lumen. + +When an _artery and vein are simultaneously wounded_, the features +peculiar to each are present in greater or less degree. In the limbs +gangrene may ensue, especially if the wound is infected. Punctured and +gun-shot wounds implicating both artery and vein are liable to be +followed by the development of arterio-venous aneurysm. + +#Entrance of Air into Veins--Air Embolism.#--This serious, though +fortunately rare, accident is apt to occur in the course of operations +in the region of the thorax, neck, or axilla, if a large vein is opened +and fails to collapse on account of the rigidity of its walls, its +incorporation in a dense fascia, or from traction being made upon it. If +the wound in a vein is thus held open, the negative pressure during +inspiration sucks air into the right side of the heart. This is +accompanied by a hissing or gurgling sound, and with the next expiration +some frothy blood escapes from the wound. The patient instantly becomes +pale, the pupils dilate, respiration becomes laboured, and although the +heart may continue to beat forcibly, the peripheral pulse is weak, and +may even be imperceptible. On auscultating the heart, a churning sound +may be heard. Death may result in a few minutes; or the heart may slowly +regain its power and recovery take place. + +_Prevention._--In operations in the "dangerous area"--as the region of +the root of the neck is called in this connection--care must be taken +not to cut or divide any vein before it has been secured by forceps, and +to apply ligatures securely and at once. Deep wounds in this region +should be kept filled with normal salt solution. Immediately a cut is +recognised in a vein, a finger should be placed over the vessel on the +cardiac side of the wound, and kept there until the opening is secured. + +_Treatment._--Little can be done after the air has actually entered the +vein beyond endeavouring to maintain the heart's action by hypodermic +injections of ether or strychnin and the application of mustard or hot +cloths over the chest. The head at the same time should be lowered to +prevent syncope. Attempts to withdraw the air by suction, and the +employment of artificial respiration, have proved futile, and are, by +some, considered dangerous. In a desperate case massage of the heart +might be tried. + + +THE NATURAL ARREST OF HAEMORRHAGE AND THE REPAIR OF BLOOD +VESSELS + +#Primary Haemorrhage.#--The term primary haemorrhage is applied to the +bleeding which follows immediately on the wounding of a blood vessel. +The natural process by which such haemorrhage is arrested varies with the +character of the wound in the vessel and may be modified by accidental +circumstances. + +(a) _Repair of completely divided Artery._--When an artery is +_completely_ divided, the circular fibres of the muscular coat contract, +so that the lumen of the cut ends is diminished, and at the same time +each segment retracts within its sheath in virtue of the recoil of the +elastic elements in its walls, the tunica intima curls up in the +interior of the vessel, and the tunica externa collapses over the cut +ends. The blood that escapes from the injured vessel fills the +interstices of the tissues, and, coagulating, forms a clot which +temporarily arrests the bleeding. That part of the clot which lies +between the divided ends of the vessel and in the cellular tissue +outside, is known as the _external clot_, while the portion which +projects into the lumen of the vessel is known as the _internal clot_, +and it usually extends as far as the nearest collateral branch. These +processes constitute what is known as the _temporary arrest of +haemorrhage_, which, it will be observed, is effected by the contraction +and retraction of the divided artery and by clotting. + +The _permanent arrest_ takes place by the transformation of the clot +into scar tissue. The internal clot plays the most important part in the +process; it becomes invaded by leucocytes and proliferating endothelial +and connective-tissue cells, and new blood vessels permeate the mass, +which is thus converted into granulation tissue. This is ultimately +replaced by fibrous tissue, which permanently occludes the end of the +vessel. Concurrently and by the same process the external clot is +converted into scar tissue. + +If a divided artery is _ligated at its cut end_, the tension of the +ligature is usually sufficient to rupture the inner and middle coats, +which curl up within the lumen, the outer coat alone being held in the +grasp of the ligature. An internal clot forms and, becoming organised, +permanently occludes the vessel as above described. The ligature and the +small portion of vessel beyond it are subsequently absorbed. + +In course of time the collateral branches of the vessel above and below +the level of section enlarge and their inter-communication becomes more +free, so that even when large trunks have been divided the vascular +supply of the parts beyond may be completely restored. This is known as +the development of the _collateral circulation_. + +_Imperfect Collateral Circulation._--While the development of the +collateral circulation after the ligation or obstruction from other +cause of a main arterial trunk may be sufficient to prevent gangrene of +the limb, it may be insufficient for its adequate nourishment; it may be +cold, bluish in colour, and there may be necrosis of the skin over bony +points; this is notably the case in the lower extremity after ligation +of the femoral or popliteal artery, when patches of skin may die over +the prominence of the heel, the balls of the toes, the projecting base +of the fifth metatarsal and the external malleolus. + +If, during the period of reaction, the blood-pressure rises +considerably, the occluding clot at the divided end of the vessel may be +washed away or the ligature displaced, permitting of fresh bleeding +taking place--_reactionary_ or _intermediary haemorrhage_ (p. 272). + +In the event of the wound becoming infected with pyogenic organisms, the +occluding blood-clot or the young fibrous tissue may become +disintegrated in the suppurative process, and the bleeding start +afresh--_secondary haemorrhage_ (p. 273). + +(b) If an artery is only _partly cut across_, the divided fibres of +the tunica muscularis contract and those of the tunica externa retract, +with the result that a more or less circular hole is formed in the wall +of the vessel, from which free bleeding takes place, as the conditions +are unfavourable for the formation of an occluding clot. Even if a clot +does form, when the blood-pressure rises it is readily displaced, +leading to reactionary haemorrhage. Should the wound become infected, +secondary haemorrhage is specially liable to occur. A further risk +attends this form of injury, in that the intra-vascular tension may in +time lead to gradual stretching of the scar tissue which closes the gap +in the vessel wall, with the result that a localised dilatation or +diverticulum forms, constituting a _traumatic aneurysm_. + +(c) When the injury merely takes the form of a _puncture_ or _small +incision_ a blood-clot forms between the edges, becomes organised, and +is converted into cicatricial tissue which seals the aperture. Such +wounds may also be followed by reactionary or secondary haemorrhage, or +later by the formation of a traumatic aneurysm. + +_Conditions which influence the Natural Arrest of Haemorrhage._--The +natural arrest of bleeding is favoured by tearing or crushing of the +vessel walls, owing to the contraction and retraction of the coats and +the tendency of blood to coagulate when in contact with damaged tissue. +Hence the primary haemorrhage following lacerated wounds is seldom +copious. The occurrence of syncope or of profound shock also helps to +stop bleeding by reducing the force of the heart's action. + +On the other hand, there are conditions which retard the natural arrest. +When, for example, a vessel is only partly divided, the contraction and +retraction of the muscular coat, instead of diminishing the calibre of +the artery, causes the wound in the vessel to gape; by completing the +division of the vessel under these circumstances the bleeding can often +be arrested. In certain situations, also, the arteries are so intimately +connected with their sheaths, that when cut across they were unable to +retract and contract--for example, in the scalp, in the penis, and in +bones--and copious bleeding may take place from comparatively small +vessels. This inability of the vessels to contract and retract is met +with also in inflamed and oedematous parts and in scar tissue. Arteries +divided in the substance of a muscle also sometimes bleed unduly. Any +increase in the force of the heart's action, such as may result from +exertion, excitement, or over-stimulation, also interferes with the +natural arrest. Lastly, in bleeders, there are conditions which +interfere with the natural arrest of haemorrhage. + +#Repair of a Vessel ligated in its Continuity.#--When a ligature is +applied to an artery it should be pulled sufficiently tight to occlude +the lumen without causing rupture of its coats. It often happens, +however, that the compression causes rupture of the inner and middle +coats, so that only the outer coat remains in the grasp of the ligature. +While this weakens the wall of the vessel, it has the advantage of +hastening coagulation, by bringing the blood into contact with damaged +tissue. Whether the inner and middle coats are ruptured or not, blood +coagulates both above and below the ligature, the proximal clot being +longer and broader than that on the distal side. In small arteries these +clots extend as far as the nearest collateral branch, but in the larger +trunks their length varies. The permanent occlusion of those portions of +the vessel occupied by clot is brought about by the formation of +granulation tissue, and its replacement by cicatricial tissue, so that +the occluded segment of the vessel is represented by a fibrous cord. In +this process the coagulum only plays a passive role by forming a +scaffolding on which the granulation tissue is built up. The ligature +surrounding the vessel, and the elements of the clot, are ultimately +absorbed. + +#Repair of Veins.#--The process of repair in veins is the same as that +in arteries, but the thrombosed area may become canalised and the +circulation through the vessel be re-established. + + +HAEMORRHAGE IN SURGICAL OPERATIONS + +The management of the haemorrhage which accompanies an operation includes +(a) preventive measures, and (b) the arrest of the bleeding. + +#Prevention of Haemorrhage.#--Whenever possible, haemorrhage should be +controlled by _digital compression_ of the main artery supplying the +limb rather than by a tourniquet. If efficiently applied compression +reduces the immediate loss of blood to a minimum, and the bleeding from +small vessels that follows the removal of the tourniquet is avoided. +Further, the pressure of a tourniquet has been shown to be a material +factor in producing shock. + +In selecting a point at which to apply digital compression, it is +essential that the vessel should be lying over a bone which will furnish +the necessary resistance. The common carotid, for example, is pressed +backward and medially against the transverse process (carotid tubercle) +of the sixth cervical vertebra; the temporal against the temporal +process (zygoma) in front of the ear; and the facial against the +mandible at the anterior edge of the masseter. + +In the upper extremity, the subclavian is pressed against the first rib +by making pressure downwards and backwards in the hollow above the +clavicle; the axillary and brachial by pressing against the shaft of the +humerus. + +In the lower extremity, the femoral is controlled by pressing in a +direction backward and slightly upward against the brim of the pelvis, +midway between the symphysis pubis and the anterior superior iliac +spine. + +The abdominal aorta may be compressed against the bodies of the lumbar +vertebrae opposite the umbilicus, if the spine is arched well forwards +over a pillow or sand-bag, or by the method suggested by Macewen, in +which the patient's spine is arched forwards by allowing the lower +extremities and pelvis to hang over the end of the table, while the +assistant, standing on a stool, applies his closed fist over the +abdominal aorta and compresses it against the vertebral column. +Momburg recommends an elastic cord wound round the body between the +iliac crest and the lower border of the ribs, but this procedure has +caused serious damage to the intestine. + +When digital compression is not available, the most convenient and +certain means of preventing haemorrhage--say in an amputation--is by the +use of some form of _tourniquet_, such as the elastic tube of Esmarch or +of Foulis, or an elastic bandage, or the screw tourniquet of Petit. +Before applying any of these it is advisable to empty the limb of blood. +This is best done after the manner suggested by Lister: the limb is held +vertical for three or four minutes; the veins are thus emptied by +gravitation, and they collapse, and as a physiological result of this +the arteries reflexly contract, so that the quantity of blood entering +the limb is reduced to a minimum. With the limb still elevated the +tourniquet is firmly applied, a part being selected where the vessel can +be pressed directly against a bone, and where there is no risk of +exerting injurious pressure on the nerve-trunks. The tourniquet should +be applied over several layers of gauze or lint to protect the skin, and +the first turn of the tourniquet must be rapidly and tightly applied to +arrest completely the arterial flow, otherwise the veins only are +obstructed and the limb becomes congested. In the lower extremity the +best place to apply a tourniquet is the middle third of the thigh; in +the upper extremity, in the middle of the arm. A tourniquet should never +be applied tighter or left on longer than is absolutely necessary. + +The screw tourniquet of Petit is to be preferred when it is desired to +intermit the flow through the main artery as in operations for aneurysm. + +When a tourniquet cannot conveniently be applied, or when its presence +interferes with the carrying out of the operation--as, for example, in +amputations at the hip or shoulder--the haemorrhage may be controlled by +preliminary ligation of the main artery above the seat of operation--for +instance, the external iliac or the subclavian. For such contingencies +also the steel skewers used by Spence and Wyeth, or a special clamp or +forceps, such as that suggested by Lynn Thomas, may be employed. In the +case of vessels which it is undesirable to occlude permanently, such as +the common carotid, the temporary application of a ligature or clamp is +useful. + +#Arrest of Haemorrhage.#--_Ligature._--This is the best means of securing +the larger vessels. The divided vessel having been caught with forceps +as near to its cut end as possible, a ligature of catgut or silk is tied +round it. When there is difficulty in applying a ligature securely, for +example in a dense tissue like the scalp or periosteum, or in a friable +tissue like the thyreoid gland or the mesentery, a stitch should be +passed so as to surround the bleeding vessel a short distance from its +end, in this way ensuring a better hold and preventing the ligature from +slipping. + +If the haemorrhage is from a partly divided vessel, this should be +completely cut across to enable its walls to contract and retract, and +to facilitate the application of forceps and ligatures. + +_Torsion._--This method is seldom employed except for comparatively +small vessels, but it is applicable to even the largest arteries. In +employing torsion, the end of the vessel is caught with forceps, and the +terminal portion twisted round several times. The object is to tear the +inner and middle coats so that they curl up inside the lumen, while the +outer fibrous coat is twisted into a cord which occludes the end of the +vessel. + +_Forci-pressure._--Bleeding from the smallest arteries and from +arterioles can usually be arrested by firmly squeezing them for a few +minutes with artery forceps. It is usually found that on the removal of +the forceps at the end of an operation no further haemorrhage takes +place. By the use of specially strong clamps, such as the angiotribes of +Doyen, large trunks may be occluded by pressure. + +_Cautery._--The actual cautery or Paquelin's thermo-cautery is seldom +employed to arrest haemorrhage, but is frequently useful in preventing +it, as, for example, in the removal of piles, or in opening the bowel in +colostomy. It is used at a dull-red heat, which sears the divided ends +of the vessel and so occludes the lumen. A bright-red or a white heat +cuts the vessel across without occluding it. The separation of the +slough produced by the charring of the tissues is sometimes attended +with secondary bleeding. + +_Haemostatics_ or _Styptics_.--The local application of haemostatics is +seldom to be recommended. In the treatment of epistaxis or bleeding from +the nose, of haemorrhage from the socket of a tooth, and sometimes from +ulcerating or granulating surfaces, however, they may be useful. All +clots must be removed and the drug applied directly to the bleeding +surface. Adrenalin and turpentine are the most useful drugs for this +purpose. + +Haemorrhage from bone, for example the skull, may be arrested by means of +Horsley's aseptic plastic wax. To stop persistent oozing from soft +tissues, Horsley successfully applied a portion of living vascular +tissue, such as a fragment of muscle, which readily adheres to the +oozing surface and yields elements that cause coagulation of the blood +by thrombo-kinetic processes. When examined after two or three days the +muscle has been found to be closely adherent and undergoing +organisation. + +#Arrest of Accidental Haemorrhage.#--The most efficient means of +temporarily controlling haemorrhage is by pressure applied with the +finger, or with a pad of gauze, directly over the bleeding point. While +this is maintained an assistant makes digital pressure, or applies a +tourniquet, over the main vessel of the limb on the proximal side of the +bleeding point. A useful _emergency tourniquet_ may be improvised by +folding a large handkerchief _en cravatte_, with a cork or piece of wood +in the fold to act as a pad. The handkerchief is applied round the +limb, with the pad over the main artery, and the ends knotted on the +lateral aspect of the limb. With a strong piece of wood the handkerchief +is wound up like a Spanish windlass, until sufficient pressure is +exerted to arrest the bleeding. + +When haemorrhage is taking place from a number of small vessels, its +arrest may be effected by elevation of the bleeding part, particularly +if it is a limb. By this means the force of the circulation is +diminished and the formation of coagula favoured. Similarly, in wounds +of the hand or forearm, or of the foot or leg, bleeding may be arrested +by placing a pad in the flexure and acutely flexing the limb at the +elbow or knee respectively. + +#Reactionary Haemorrhage.#--Reactionary or intermediary haemorrhage +is really a recurrence of primary bleeding. As the name indicates, it +occurs during the period of reaction--that is, within the first twelve +hours after an operation or injury. It may be due to the increase in the +blood-pressure that accompanies reaction displacing clots which have +formed in the vessels, or causing vessels to bleed which did not bleed +during the operation; to the slipping of a ligature; or to the giving +way of a grossly damaged portion of the vessel wall. In the scrotum, the +relaxation of the dartos during the first few hours after operation +occasionally leads to reactionary haemorrhage. + +As a rule, reactionary haemorrhage takes place from small vessels as a +result of the displacement of occluding clots, and in many cases the +haemorrhage stops when the bandages and soaked dressings are removed. If +not, it is usually sufficient to remove the clots and apply firm +pressure, and in the case of a limb to elevate it. Should the haemorrhage +recur, the wound must be reopened, and ligatures applied to the bleeding +vessels. Douching the wound with hot sterilised water (about 110 F.), +and plugging it tightly with gauze, are often successful in arresting +capillary oozing. When the bleeding is more copious, it is usually due +to a ligature having slipped from a large vessel such as the external +jugular vein after operations in the neck, and the wound must be opened +up and the vessel again secured. The internal administration of heroin +or morphin, by keeping the patient quiet, may prove useful in preventing +the recurrence of haemorrhage. + +#Secondary Haemorrhage.#--The term secondary haemorrhage refers to +bleeding that is delayed in its onset and is due to pyogenic infection +of the tissues around an artery. The septic process causes softening and +erosion of the wall of the artery so that it gives way under the +pressure of the contained blood. The leakage may occur in drops, or as a +rush of blood, according to the extent of the erosion, the size of the +artery concerned, and the relations of the erosion to the surrounding +tissues. When met with as a complication of a wound there is an +interval--usually a week to ten days--between the receipt of the wound +and the first haemorrhage, this time being required for the extension of +the septic process to the wall of the artery and the consequent erosion +of its coats. When secondary haemorrhage occurs apart from a wound, there +is a similar septic process attacking the wall of the artery from the +outside; for example in sloughing sore-throat, the separation of a +slough may implicate the wall of an artery and be followed by serious +and it may be fatal haemorrhage. The mechanical pressure of a fragment of +bone or of a rubber drainage tube upon the vessel may aid the septic +process in causing erosion of the artery. In pre-Listerian days, the +silk ligature around the artery likewise favoured the changes that lead +to secondary haemorrhage, and the interesting observation was often made, +that when the collateral circulation was well established, the leakage +occurred on the _distal_ side of the ligature. While it may happen that +the initial haemorrhage is rapidly fatal, as for example when the +external carotid or one of its branches suddenly gives way, it is quite +common to have one, two or more _warning haemorrhages_ before the leakage +on a large scale, which is rapidly fatal. + +The _appearances of the wound_ in cases complicated by secondary +haemorrhage are only characteristic in so far that while obviously +infected, there is an absence of all reaction; instead of frankly +suppurating, there is little or no discharge and the surrounding +cellular tissue and the limb beyond are oedematous and pit on pressure. + +The _general symptoms_ of septic poisoning in cases of secondary +haemorrhage vary widely in severity: they may be so slight that the +general health is scarcely affected and the convalescence from an +operation, for example, may be apparently normal except that the wound +does not heal satisfactorily. For example, a patient may be recovering +from an operation such as the removal of an epithelioma of the mouth, +pharynx or larynx and the associated lymph glands in the neck, and be +able to be up and going about his room, when, suddenly, without warning +and without obvious cause, a rush of blood occurs from the mouth or the +incompletely healed wound in the neck, causing death within a few +minutes. + +On the other hand, the toxaemia may be of a profound type associated with +marked pallor and progressive failure of strength, which, of itself, +even when the danger from haemorrhage has been overcome, may have a fatal +termination. The _prognosis_ therefore in cases of secondary haemorrhage +can never be other than uncertain and unfavourable; the danger from loss +of blood _per se_ is less when the artery concerned is amenable to +control by surgical measures. + +_Treatment._--The treatment of secondary haemorrhage includes the use of +local measures to arrest the bleeding, the employment of general +measures to counteract the accompanying toxaemia, and when the loss of +blood has been considerable, the treatment of the bloodless state. + +_Local Measures to arrest the Haemorrhage._--The occurrence of even +slight haemorrhages from a septic wound in the vicinity of a large blood +vessel is to be taken seriously; it is usually necessary to _open up the +wound_, clear out the clots and infected tissues with a sharp spoon, +disinfect the walls of the cavity with eusol or hydrogen peroxide, and +_pack_ it carefully but not too tightly with gauze impregnated with some +antiseptic, such as "bipp," so that, if the bleeding does not recur, it +may be left undisturbed for several days. The packing should if possible +be brought into actual contact with the leaking point in the vessel, and +so arranged as to make pressure on the artery above the erosion. The +dressings and bandage are then applied, with the limb in the attitude +that will diminish the force of the stream through the main artery, for +example, flexion at the elbow in haemorrhage from the deep palmar arch. +Other measures for combating the local sepsis, such as the irrigation +method of Carrel, may be considered. + +If the wound involves one of the extremities, it may be useful; and it +imparts confidence to the nurse, and, it may be, to the patient, if a +Petit's tourniquet is loosely applied above the wound, which the nurse +is instructed to tighten up in the event of bleeding taking place. + +_Ligation of the Artery._--If the haemorrhage recurs in spite of packing +the wound, or if it is serious from the outset and likely to be critical +if repeated, ligation of the artery itself or of the trunk from which it +springs, at a selected spot higher up, should be considered. This is +most often indicated in wounds of the extremities. + +As examples of proximal ligation for secondary haemorrhage may be cited +ligation of the hypogastric artery for haemorrhage in the buttock, of the +common iliac for haemorrhage in the thigh, of the brachial in the upper +arm for haemorrhage from the deep palmar arch, and of the posterior +tibial behind the medial malleolus for haemorrhage from the sole of the +foot. + +_Amputation_ is the last resource, and should be decided upon if the +haemorrhage recurs after proximal ligation, or if this has been followed +by gangrene of the limb; it should also be considered if the nature of +the wound and the virulence of the sepsis would of themselves justify +removal of the limb. Every surgeon can recall cases in which a timely +amputation has been the means of saving life. + +The _counteraction of the toxaemia_ and the _treatment of the bloodless +state_, are carried out on the usual lines. + +#Haemorrhage of Toxic Origin.#--Mention must also be made of haemorrhages +which depend upon infective or toxic conditions and in which no gross +lesion of the vessels can be discovered. The bleeding occurs as an +oozing, which may be comparatively slight and unimportant, or by its +persistence may become serious. It takes place into the superficial +layers of the skin, from mucous membranes, and into the substance of +such organs as the pancreas. Haemorrhage from the stomach and intestine, +attended with a brown or black discoloration of the vomit and of the +stools, is one of the best known examples: it is not uncommonly met with +in infective conditions originating in the appendix, intestine, +gall-bladder, and other abdominal organs. Haemorrhage from the mucous +membrane of the stomach after abdominal operations--apparently also due +to toxic causes and not to the operation--gives rise to the so-called +_post-operative haematemesis_. + +#Constitutional Effects of Haemorrhage.#--The severity of the symptoms +resulting from haemorrhage depends as much on the rapidity with which the +bleeding takes place as on the amount of blood lost. The sudden loss of +a large quantity, whether from an open wound or into a serous +cavity--for example, after rupture of the liver or spleen--is attended +with marked pallor of the surface of the body and coldness of the skin, +especially of the face, feet, and hands. The skin is moist with a cold, +clammy sweat, and beads of perspiration stand out on the forehead. The +pulse becomes feeble, soft, and rapid, and the patient is dull and +listless, and complains of extreme thirst. The temperature is usually +sub-normal; and the respiration rapid, shallow, and sighing in +character. Abnormal visual sensations, in the form of flashes of light +or spots before the eyes; and rushing, buzzing, or ringing sounds in the +ears, are often complained of. + +In extreme cases, phenomena which have been aptly described as those of +"air-hunger" ensue. On account of the small quantity of blood +circulating through the body, and the diminished haemoglobin content of +the blood, the tissues are imperfectly oxygenated, and the patient +becomes extremely restless, gasping for breath, constantly throwing +about his arms and baring his chest in the vain attempt to breath more +freely. Faintness and giddiness are marked features. The diminished +supply of oxygen to the brain and to the muscles produces muscular +twitchings, and sometimes convulsions. Finally the pupils dilate, the +sphincters relax, and death ensues. + +Young children stand the loss of blood badly, but they quickly recover, +as the regeneration of blood takes place rapidly. In old people also, +and especially when they are fat, the loss of blood is badly borne, and +the ill effects last longer. Women, on the whole, stand loss of blood +better than men, and in them the blood is more rapidly re-formed. A few +hours after a severe haemorrhage there is usually a leucocytosis of from +15,000 to 30,000. + +#Treatment of the Bloodless State.#--The patient should be placed in a +warm, well-ventilated room, and the foot of the bed elevated. Cardiac +stimulants, such as strychnin or alcohol, must be judiciously +administered, over-stimulation being avoided. The inhalation of oxygen +has been found useful in relieving the urgent symptoms of dyspnoea. + +The blood may be emptied from the limbs into the vessels of the trunk, +where it is more needed, by holding them vertically in the air for a few +minutes, and then applying a firm elastic bandage over a layer of cotton +wool, from the periphery towards the trunk. + +_Introduction of Fluids into the Circulation._--The most valuable +measure for maintaining the circulation, however, is by transfusion of +blood (_Op. Surg._, p. 37). If this is not immediately available the +introduction of from one to three pints of physiological salt +solution (a teaspoonful of common salt to a pint of water) into a vein, +or a 6 per cent. solution of gum acacia, is a useful expedient. The +solution is sterilised by boiling, and cooled to a temperature of about +105 F. The addition of 5 to 10 minims of adrenalin solution (1 in 1000) +is advantageous in raising the blood-pressure (_Op. Surg._, p. 565). + +When the intra-venous method is not available, one or two pints of +saline solution with adrenalin should be slowly introduced into the +rectum, by means of a long rubber tube and a filler. Satisfactory, +although less rapidly obtained results follow the introduction of saline +solution into the cellular tissue--for example, under the mamma, into +the axilla, or under the skin of the back. + +If the patient can retain fluids taken by the mouth--such as hot coffee, +barley water, or soda water--these should be freely given, unless the +injury necessitates operative treatment under a general anaesthetic. + +Transfusion of blood is most valuable as _a preliminary to operation_ in +patients who are bloodless as a result of haemorrhage from gastric and +duodenal ulcers, and in bleeders. + + +HAEMOPHILIA + +The term haemophilia is applied to an inherited disease which renders the +patient liable to serious haemorrhage from even the most trivial +injuries; and the subjects of it are popularly known as "bleeders." + +The cause of the disease and its true nature are as yet unknown. There +is no proof of any structural defect in the blood vessels, and beyond +the fact that there is a diminution in the number of blood-plates, it +has not been demonstrated that there is any alteration in the +composition of the blood. + +The affection is in a marked degree hereditary, all the branches of an +affected family being liable to suffer. Its mode of transmission to +individuals, moreover, is characteristic: the male members of the stock +alone suffer from the affection in its typical form, while the tendency +is transmitted through the female line. Thus the daughters of a father +who is a bleeder, whilst they do not themselves suffer from the disease, +transmit the tendency to their male offspring. The sons, on the other +hand, neither suffer themselves nor transmit the disease to their +children (Fig. 64). The female members of a haemophilic stock are often +very prolific, and there is usually a predominance of daughters in their +families. + + +FIG 64.--Genealogical Tree of a Haemophilic Family. + +Great-Great-Grandmother Great-Great-Grandfather +Mrs D. (Lancashire) F M (History not known + .| | as to bleeding) + .| | + .+----------+-------+ + ............| + .| + ....| + .+---------+--------+ + Great-Grandmother .| | | + (Married three .F MB MB + times) .| + .| + .| + By First Husband .| By Second By Third + ..............| Husband Husband + +-----------+------------+----------+-------+-------+-----------+------+ + | .| | | +-------+-----------+------+ + M .F F F | | +------+ + | .| | | MB F Died in No +Died Grandmother | | | Childbed Family + aet. .| | +-----------+ +----+--- + 70 .| +------+ |had family | | + .| | | |but history| | + .| MB MB |not known | MB + .| + .| + .|............................. ++-----+----------+------------+------------+------------+-------------+ +| | | | |. | | +| | | | |. | | +M M M MB F. F F + | |. | | + | Mother +--+--+---+--+--+ | + +----+ |. | | | | | | | + | | |. M M MB F F F | + M F |. | + Not Married |. +---+---+---+---+ + |. | | | | | + |. MB M MB M M + .............|. + +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ + | .| .| | | | + | .|* .|* | | | + M MB MB F F F + + +F = Females. M = Males (not bleeders). MB = Males (bleeders) + + ** the patients observed by the authors. The dotted line shows the + transmission of the disease to our patients through four + generations. + + +The disease is met with in boys who are otherwise healthy, and usually +manifests itself during the first few years of life. In rare instances +profuse haemorrhage takes place when the umbilical cord separates. As a +rule the first evidence is the occurrence of long-continued and +uncontrollable bleeding from a comparatively slight injury, such as the +scratch of a pin, the extraction of a tooth, or after the operation of +circumcision. The blood oozes slowly from the capillaries; at first it +appears normal, but after flowing for some days, or it may be weeks, it +becomes pale, thin, and watery, and shows less and less tendency to +coagulate. + +Female members of haemophilia families sometimes show a tendency to +excessive haemorrhage, but they seldom manifest the characteristic +features met with in the male members. + +Sometimes the haemorrhage takes place apparently spontaneously from the +gums, the nasal or the intestinal mucous membrane. In other cases the +bleeding occurs into the cellular tissue under the skin or mucous +membrane, producing large areas of ecchymosis and discoloration. One of +the commonest manifestations of the disease is the occurrence of +haemorrhage into the cavities of the large joints, especially the knee, +elbow, or hip. The patient suffers repeatedly from such haemorrhages, the +determining injury being often so slight as to have passed unobserved. + +There is evidence that the tendency to bleed is greater at certain times +than at others--in some cases showing almost a cyclical +character--although nothing is known as to the cause of the variation. + +After a severe haemorrhage into the cellular tissue or into a joint, the +patient becomes pale and anaemic, the temperature may rise to 102 or +103 F., the pulse become small and rapid, and haemic murmurs are +sometimes developed over the heart and large arteries. The swelling is +tense, fluctuating, and hot, and there is considerable pain and +tenderness. + +In exceptional cases, blisters form over the seat of the effusion, or +the skin may even slough, and the clinical features may therefore come +to simulate closely those of an acute suppurative condition. When the +skin sloughs, an ulcer is formed with altered blood-clot in its floor +like that seen in scurvy, and there is a remarkable absence of any +attempt at healing. + +The acute symptoms gradually subside, and the blood is slowly absorbed, +the discoloration of the skin passing through the same series of changes +as occur after an ordinary bruise. The patients seldom manifest the +symptoms of the bloodless state, and the blood is rapidly regenerated. + +The _diagnosis_ is easy if the patient or his friends are aware of the +family tendency to haemorrhage and inform the doctor of it, but they are +often sensitive and reticent regarding the fact, and it may only be +elicited after close investigation. From the history it is usually easy +to exclude scurvy and purpura. Repeated haemorrhages into a joint may +result in appearances which closely simulate those of tuberculous +disease. Recent haemorrhages into the cellular tissue often present +clinical features closely resembling those of acute cellulitis or +osteomyelitis. A careful examination, however, may reveal ecchymoses on +other parts of the body which give a clue to the nature of the +condition, and may prevent the disastrous consequences that may follow +incision. + +These patients usually succumb sooner or later to haemorrhage, although +they often survive several severe attacks. After middle life the +tendency to bleed appears to diminish. + +_Treatment._--As a rule the ordinary means of arresting haemorrhage are +of little avail. From among the numerous means suggested, the following +may be mentioned: The application to the bleeding point of gauze soaked +in a 1 in 1000 solution of adrenalin; prolonged inhalation of oxygen; +freezing the part with a spray of ethyl-chloride; one or more +subcutaneous injections of gelatin--5 ounces of a 2.5 per cent. +solution of white gelatin in normal salt solution being injected at a +temperature of about 100 F.; the injection of pituitary extract. The +application of a pad of gauze soaked in the blood of a normal person +sometimes arrests the bleeding. + +To prevent bleeding in haemophilics, intra-venous or subcutaneous +injections of fresh blood serum, taken from the human subject, the +sheep, the dog, or the horse, have proved useful. If fresh serum is not +available, anti-diphtheritic or anti-tetanic serum or trade +preparations, such as hemoplastin, may be employed. We have removed the +appendix and amputated through the thigh in haemophilic subjects without +excessive loss of blood after a course of fresh sheep's serum given by +the mouth over a period of several weeks. + +The chloride and lactate of calcium, and extract of thymus gland have +been employed to increase the coagulability of the blood. The patient +should drink large quantities of milk, which also increases the +coagulability of the blood. Monro has observed remarkable results from +the hypodermic injection of emetin hydrochloride in 1/2-grain doses. + + +THROMBOSIS AND EMBOLISM + +The processes known as thrombosis and embolism are so intimately +associated with the diseases of blood vessels that it is convenient to +define these terms in the first instance. + +#Thrombosis.#--The term _thrombus_ is applied to a clot of blood formed +in the interior of the heart or of a blood vessel, and the process by +which such a clot forms is known as _thrombosis_. It would appear that +slowing or stagnation of the blood-stream, and interference with the +integrity of the lining membrane of the vessel wall, are the most +important factors determining the formation of the clot. Alterations in +the blood itself, such as occur, for example, in certain toxaemias, also +favour coagulation. When the thrombus is formed slowly, it consists of +white blood cells with a small proportion of fibrin, and, being +deposited in successive layers, has a distinctly laminated appearance on +section. It is known as a _white thrombus_ or laminated clot, and is +often met with in the sac of an aneurysm (Fig. 72). When rapidly formed +in a vessel in which the blood is almost stagnant--as, for example, in a +pouched varicose vein--the blood coagulates _en masse_, and the clot +consists of all the elements of the blood, constituting a _red thrombus_ +(Fig. 66). Sometimes the thrombus is _mixed_--a red thrombus being +deposited on a white one, it may be in alternate layers. + +When aseptic, a thrombus may become detached and be carried off in the +blood-stream as an embolus; it may become organised; or it may +degenerate and undergo calcification. Occasionally a small thrombus +situated behind a valve in a varicose vein or in the terminal end of a +dilated vein--for example in a pile--undergoes calcification, and is +then spoken of as a _phlebolith_; it gives a shadow with the X-rays. + +When infected with pyogenic bacteria, the thrombus becomes converted +into pus and a localised abscess forms; or portions of the thrombus may +be carried as emboli in the circulation to distant parts, where they +give rise to secondary foci of suppuration--pyaemic abscesses. + +#Embolism.#--The term _embolus_ is applied to any body carried along in +the circulation and ultimately becoming impacted in a blood vessel. This +occurrence is known as _embolism_. The commonest forms of embolus are +portions of thrombi or of fibrinous formations on the valves of the +heart, the latter being usually infected with micro-organisms. + +Embolism plays an important part in determining one form of gangrene, as +has already been described. Infective emboli are the direct cause of the +secondary abscesses that occur in pyaemia; and they are sometimes +responsible for the formation of aneurysm. + +Portions of malignant tumours also may form emboli, and their impaction +in the vessels may lead to the development of secondary growths in +distant parts of the body. + +Fat and air embolism have already been referred to. + + +ARTERITIS + +_Pyogenic._--Non-suppurative inflammation of the coats of an artery may +so soften the wall of the vessel as to lead to aneurysmal dilatation. It +is not uncommon in children, and explains the occurrence of aneurysm in +young subjects. + +When suppuration occurs, the vessel wall becomes disintegrated and gives +way, leading to secondary haemorrhage. If the vessel ruptures into an +abscess cavity, dangerous bleeding may occur when the abscess bursts or +is opened. + +_Syphilitic._--The inflammation associated with syphilis results in +thickening of the tunica intima, whereby the lumen of the vessel becomes +narrowed, or even obliterated--_endarteritis obliterans_. The middle +coat usually escapes, but the tunica externa is generally thickened. +These changes cause serious interference with the nutrition of the parts +supplied by the affected arteries. In large trunks, by diminishing the +elasticity of the vessel wall, they are liable to lead to the formation +of aneurysm. + +Changes in the arterial walls closely resembling those of syphilitic +arteritis are sometimes met with in _tuberculous_ lesions. + +#Arterio-sclerosis# or #Chronic Arteritis#.--These terms are applied to +certain changes which result in narrowing of the lumen and loss of +elasticity in the arteries. The condition may affect the whole vascular +system or may be confined to particular areas. In the smaller arteries +there is more or less uniform thickening of the tunica intima from +proliferation of the endothelium and increase in the connective tissue +in the elastic lamina--a form of obliterative endarteritis. The +narrowing of the vessels may be sufficient to determine gangrene in the +extremities. In course of time, particularly in the larger arteries, +this new tissue undergoes degeneration, at first of a fatty nature, but +progressing in the direction of calcification, and this is followed by +the deposit of lime salts in the young connective tissue and the +formation of calcareous plates or rings over a considerable area of the +vessel wall. To this stage in the process the term _atheroma_ is +applied. The endothelium over these plates often disappears, leaving +them exposed to the blood-stream. + +Changes of a similar kind sometimes occur in the middle coat, the lime +salts being deposited among the muscle fibres in concentric rings. + +The primary cause of arterio-sclerosis is not definitely known, but its +almost constant occurrence, to a greater or less degree, in the aged +suggests that it is of the nature of a senile degeneration. It is +favoured by anything which throws excessive strain on the vessel walls, +such as heavy muscular work; by chronic alcoholism and syphilis; or by +such general diseases as tend to raise the blood-pressure--for example, +chronic Bright's disease or gout. It occurs with greater frequency and +with greater severity in men than in women. + +Atheromatous degeneration is most common in the large arterial trunks, +and the changes are most marked at the arch of the aorta, opposite the +flexures of joints, at the mouths of large branches, and at parts where +the vessel lies in contact with bone. The presence of diseased patches +in the wall of an artery diminishes its elasticity and favours +aneurysmal dilatation. Such a vessel also is liable to be ruptured by +external violence and so give rise to traumatic aneurysm. Thrombosis is +liable to occur when calcareous plates are exposed in the lumen of the +vessel by destruction of the endothelium, and this predisposes to +embolism. Arterio-sclerosis also interferes with the natural arrest of +haemorrhage, and by rendering the vessels brittle, makes it difficult to +secure them by ligature. In advanced cases the accessible arteries--such +as the radial, the temporal or the femoral--may be felt as firm, +tortuous cords, which are sometimes so hard that they have been aptly +compared to "pipe-stems." The pulse is smaller and less compressible +than normal, and the vessel moves bodily with each pulsation. It must be +borne in mind, however, that the condition of the radial artery may fail +to afford a clue to that of the larger arteries. Calcified arteries are +readily identified in skiagrams (Fig. 65). + +[Illustration: FIG. 65.--Radiogram showing Calcareous Degeneration +(Atheroma) of Arteries.] + +We have met with a chronic form of arterial degeneration in elderly +women, affecting especially the great vessels at the root of the neck, +in which the artery is remarkably attenuated and dilated, and so friable +that the wall readily tears when seized with an artery-forceps, +rendering ligation of the vessel in the ordinary way well-nigh +impossible. Matas suggests infolding the wall of the vessel with +interrupted sutures that do not pierce the intima, and wrapping it +round with a strip of peritoneum or omentum. + +The most serious form of arterial _thrombosis_ is that met with _in the +abdominal aorta_, which is attended with violent pains in the lower +limbs, rapidly followed by paralysis and arrest of the circulation. + + +THROMBO-PHLEBITIS AND THROMBOSIS IN VEINS + +#Thrombosis# is more common in veins than in arteries, because slowing +of the blood-stream and irritation of the endothelium of the vessel wall +are, owing to the conditions of the venous circulation, more readily +induced in veins. + +Venous thrombosis may occur from purely mechanical causes--as, for +example, when the wall of a vein is incised, or the vessel included in a +ligature, or when it is bruised or crushed by a fragment of a broken +bone or by a bandage too tightly applied. Under these conditions +thrombosis is essentially a reparative process, and has already been +considered in relation to the repair of blood vessels. + +In other cases thrombosis is associated with certain constitutional +diseases--gout, for example; the endothelium of the veins undergoing +changes--possibly the result of irritation by abnormal constituents in +the blood--which favour the formation of thrombi. + +Under these various conditions the formation of a thrombus is not +necessarily associated with the action of bacteria, although in any +of them this additional factor may be present. + +The most common cause of venous thrombosis, however, is inflammation of +the wall of the vein--phlebitis. + +#Phlebitis.#--Various forms of phlebitis are met with, but for practical +purposes they may be divided into two groups--one in which there is a +tendency to the formation of a thrombus; the other in which the +infective element predominates. + +In surgical patients, the _thrombotic form_ is almost invariably met +with in the lower extremity, and usually occurs in those who are +debilitated and anaemic, and who are confined to bed for prolonged +periods--for example, during the treatment of fractures of the leg or +pelvis, or after such operations as herniotomy, prostatectomy, or +appendectomy. + +_Clinical Features._--The most typical example of this form of phlebitis +is that so frequently met with in the great saphena vein, especially +when it is varicose. The onset of the attack is indicated by a sudden +pain in the lower limb--sometimes below, sometimes above the knee. This +initial pain may be associated with shivering or even with a rigor, and +the temperature usually rises one or two degrees. There is swelling and +tenderness along the line of the affected vein, and the skin over it is +a dull-red or purple colour. The swollen vein may be felt as a firm +cord, with bead-like enlargements in the position of the valves. The +patient experiences a feeling of stiffness and tightness throughout the +limb. There is often oedema of the leg and foot, especially when the limb +is in the dependent position. The acute symptoms pass off in a few days, +but the swelling and tenderness of the vein and the oedema of the limb +may last for many weeks. + +When the deep veins--iliac, femoral, popliteal--are involved, there is +great swelling of the whole limb, which is of a firm almost "wooden" +consistence, and of a pale-white colour; the oedema may be so great that +it is impossible to feel the affected vein until the swelling has +subsided. This is most often seen in puerperal women, and is known as +_phlegmasia alba dolens_. + +_Treatment._--The patient must be placed at absolute rest, with the foot +of the bed raised on blocks 10 or 12 inches high, and the limb +immobilised by sand-bags or splints. It is necessary to avoid handling +the parts, lest the clot be displaced and embolism occur. To avoid +frequent movement of the limb, the necessary dressings should be kept in +position by means of a many-tailed rather than a roller bandage. + +To relieve the pain, warm fomentations or lead and opium lotion should +be applied. Later, ichthyol-glycerin, or glycerin and belladonna, may be +substituted. + +When, at the end of three weeks, the danger of embolism is past, +douching and gentle massage may be employed to disperse the oedema; and +when the patient gets up he should wear a supporting elastic bandage. + +The _infective_ form usually begins as a peri-phlebitis arising in +connection with some focus of infection in the adjacent tissues. The +elements of the vessel wall are destroyed by suppuration, and the +thrombus in its lumen becomes infected with pyogenic bacteria and +undergoes softening. + +_Occlusion of the inferior vena cava_ as a result of infective +thrombosis is a well-known condition, the thrombosis extending into the +main trunk from some of its tributaries, either from the femoral or +iliac veins below or from the hepatic veins above. + +Portions of the softened thrombus are liable to become detached and to +enter the circulating blood, in which they are carried as emboli. These +may lodge in distant parts, and give rise to secondary foci of +suppuration--pyaemic abscesses. + +_Clinical Features._--Infective phlebitis is most frequently met with in +the transverse sinus as a sequel to chronic suppuration in the mastoid +antrum and middle ear. It also occurs in relation to the peripheral +veins, but in these it can seldom be recognised as a separate entity, +being merged in the general infective process from which it takes +origin. Its occurrence may be inferred, if in the course of a +suppurative lesion there is a sudden rise of temperature, with pain, +redness, and swelling along the line of a venous trunk, and a rapidly +developed oedema of the limb, with pitting of the skin on pressure. In +rare cases a localised abscess forms in the vein and points towards the +surface. + +_Treatment._--Attention must be directed towards the condition with +which the phlebitis is associated. Ligation of the vein on the cardiac +side of the thrombus with a view to preventing embolism is seldom +feasible in the peripheral veins, although, as will be pointed out +later, the jugular vein is ligated with this object in cases of +phlebitis of the transverse sinus. + + +VARIX--VARICOSE VEINS + +The term varix is applied to a condition in which veins are so altered +in structure that they remain permanently dilated, and are at the same +time lengthened and tortuous. Two types are met with: one in which +dilatation of a large superficial vein and its tributaries is the most +obvious feature; the other, in which bunches of distended and tortuous +vessels develop at one or more points in the course of a vein, a +condition to which Virchow applied the term _angioma racemosum venosum_. +The two types may occur in combination. + +Any vein in the body may become varicose, but the condition is rare +except in the veins of the lower extremity, in the veins of the +spermatic cord (varicocele), and in the veins of the anal canal +(haemorrhoids). + +We are here concerned with varix as it occurs in the veins of the lower +extremity. + +_Etiology._--Considerable difference of opinion exists as to the +essential cause of varix. The weight of evidence is in favour of the +view that, when dilatation is the predominant element, it results from a +congenital deficiency in the number, size, and strength of the valves of +the affected veins, and in an inherent weakness in the vessel walls. +The _angioma racemosum venosum_ is probably also due to a congenital +alteration in the structure of the vessels, and is allied to tumours of +blood vessels. The view that varix is congenital in origin, as was first +suggested by Virchow, is supported by the fact that in a large +proportion of cases the condition is hereditary; not only may several +members of the same family in succeeding generations suffer from varix, +but it is often found that the same vein, or segment of a vein, is +involved in all of them. The frequent occurrence of varix in youth is +also an indication of its congenital origin. + +In the majority of cases it is only when some exciting factor comes into +operation that the clinical phenomena associated with varix appear. The +most common exciting cause is increased pressure within the veins, and +this may be produced in a variety of ways. In certain diseases of the +heart, lungs, and liver, for example, the venous pressure may be so +raised as to cause a localised dilatation of such veins as are +congenitally weak. The direct pressure of a tumour, or of the gravid +uterus on the large venous trunks in the pelvis, may so obstruct the +flow as to distend the veins of the lower extremity. It is a common +experience in women that the signs of varix date from an antecedent +pregnancy. The importance of the wearing of tight garters as a factor in +the production of varicose veins has been exaggerated, although it must +be admitted that this practice is calculated to aggravate the condition +when it is once established. It has been proved experimentally that the +backward pressure in the veins may be greatly increased by straining, a +fact which helps to explain the frequency with which varicosity occurs +in the lower limbs of athletes and of those whose occupation involves +repeated and violent muscular efforts. There is reason to believe, +moreover, that a sudden strain may, by rupturing the valves and so +rendering them incompetent, induce varicosity independently of any +congenital defect. Prolonged standing or walking, by allowing gravity to +act on the column of blood in the veins of the lower limbs, is also an +important determining factor in the production of varix. + +Thrombosis of the deep veins--in the leg, for example--may induce marked +dilatation of the superficial veins, by throwing an increased amount of +work upon them. This is to be looked upon rather as a compensatory +hypertrophy of the superficial vessels than as a true varix. + +_Morbid Anatomy._--In the lower extremity the varicosity most commonly +affects the vessels of the great saphena system; less frequently those +of the small saphena system. Sometimes both systems are involved, and +large communicating branches may develop between the two. + +The essential lesion is the absence or deficiency of valves, so that +they are incompetent and fail to support the column of blood which bears +back upon them. Normally the valves in the femoral and iliac veins and +in the inferior vena cava are imperfectly developed, so that in the +erect posture the great saphena receives a large share of the backward +pressure of the column of venous blood. + +The whole length of the vein may be affected, but as a rule the disease +is confined to one or more segments, which are not only dilated, but are +also increased in length, so that they become convoluted. The adjacent +loops of the convoluted vein are often bound together by fibrous tissue. +All the coats are thickened, chiefly by an increased development of +connective tissue, and in some cases changes similar to those of +arterio-sclerosis occur. The walls of varicose veins are often +exceedingly brittle. In some cases the thickening is uniform, and in +others it is irregular, so that here and there thin-walled sacs or +pouches project from the side of the vein. These pouches vary in size +from a bean to a hen's egg, the larger forms being called _venous +cysts_, and being most commonly met with in the region of the saphenous +opening and of the opening in the popliteal fascia. Such pouches, being +exposed to injury, are frequently the seat of thrombosis (Fig. 66). + +[Illustration: FIG. 66.--Thrombosis in Tortuous and Pouched Great +Saphena Vein, in longitudinal section.] + +_Clinical Features._--Varix is most frequently met with between puberty +and the age of thirty, and the sexes appear to suffer about equally. + +The amount of discomfort bears no direct proportion to the extent of +the varicosity. It depends rather upon the degree of pressure in the +veins, as is shown by the fact that it is relieved by elevation of the +limb. When the whole length of the main trunk of the great saphena is +implicated, the pressure in the vein is high and the patient suffers a +good deal of pain and discomfort. When, on the contrary, the upper part +of the saphena and its valves are intact, and only the more distal veins +are involved, the pressure is not so high and there is comparatively +little suffering. The usual complaint is of a sense of weight and +fulness in the limb after standing or walking, sometimes accompanied by +actual pain, from which relief is at once obtained by raising the limb. +Cramp-like pains in the muscles are often associated with varix of the +deep veins. + +The dilated and tortuous vein can be readily seen and felt when the +patient is examined in the upright posture. In advanced cases, bead-like +swellings are sometimes to be detected over the position of the valves, +and, on running the fingers along the course of the vessel, a firm +ridge, due to periphlebitis, may be detected on each side of the vein. +When the limb is oedematous, the outline of the veins is obscured, but +they can be identified on palpation as gutter-like tracks. When large +veins are implicated, a distinct impulse on coughing may be seen to pass +down as far as the knee; and if the vessel is sharply percussed a fluid +wave may be detected passing both up and down the vein. + +If the patient is placed on a couch and the limb elevated, the veins are +emptied, and if pressure is then made over the region of the saphenous +opening and the patient allowed to stand up, so long as the great +saphena system alone is involved, the veins fill again very slowly from +below. If the small saphena system also is involved, and if +communicating branches are dilated, the veins fill up from below more +rapidly. When the pressure over the saphenous opening is removed, the +blood rapidly rushes into the varicose vessels from above; this is known +as Trendelenburg's test. + +The most marked dilatation usually occurs on the medial side of the +limb, between the middle of the thigh and the middle of the calf, the +arrangement of the veins showing great variety (Fig. 67). + +There are usually one or more bunches of enlarged and tortuous veins in +the region of the knee. Frequently a large branch establishes a +communication between the systems of the great and small saphenous veins +in the region of the popliteal space, or across the front of the upper +part of the tibia. The superficial position of this last branch and its +proximity to the bone render it liable to injury. + +[Illustration: FIG. 67.--Extensive Varix of Internal Saphena System on +Left Leg, of many years' standing.] + +The small veins of the skin of the ankle and foot often show as fine +blue streaks arranged in a stellate or arborescent manner, especially in +women who have borne children. + +_Complications._--When the varix is of long standing, the skin in the +lower part of the leg sometimes assumes a mahogany-brown or bluish hue, +as a result of the _deposit of blood pigment_ in the tissues, and this +is frequently a precursor of ulceration. + +_Chronic dermatitis_ (_varicose eczema_) is often met with in the lower +part of the leg, and is due to interference with the nutrition of the +skin. The incompetence of the valves allows the pressure in the varicose +veins to equal that in the arterioles, so that the capillary circulation +is impeded. From the same cause the blood in the deep veins is enabled +to enter the superficial veins, where the backward pressure is so great +that the blood flows down again, and so a vicious circle is established. +The blood therefore loses more and more of its oxygen, and so fails to +nourish the tissues. + +The _ulcer_ of the leg associated with varicose veins has already been +described. + +_Haemorrhage_ may take place from a varicose vein as a result of a wound +or of ulceration of its wall. Increased intra-venous pressure produced +by severe muscular strain may determine rupture of a vein exposed in the +floor of an ulcer. If the limb is dependent, the incompetency of the +valves permits of rapid and copious bleeding, which may prove fatal, +particularly if the patient is intoxicated when the rupture takes place +and no means are taken to arrest the haemorrhage. The bleeding may be +arrested at once by elevating the limb, or by applying pressure directly +over the bleeding point. + +_Phlebitis and thrombosis_ are common sequelae of varix, and may prove +dangerous, either by spreading into the large venous trunks or by giving +rise to emboli. The larger the varix the greater is the tendency for a +thrombus to spread upwards and to involve the deep veins. Thrombi +usually originate in venous cysts or pouches, and at acute bends on the +vessel, especially when these are situated in the vicinity of the knee, +and are subjected to repeated injuries--for example in riding. +Phleboliths sometimes form in such pouches, and may be recognised in a +radiogram. In a certain proportion of cases, especially in elderly +people, the occurrence of thrombosis leads to cure of the condition by +the thrombus becoming organised and obliterating the vein. + +_Treatment._--At best the treatment of varicose veins is only +palliative, as it is obviously impossible to restore to the vessels +their normal structure. The patient must avoid wearing anything, such as +a garter, which constricts the limb, and any obvious cause of direct +pressure on the pelvic veins, such as a tumour, persistent +constipation, or an ill-fitting truss, should be removed. Cardiac, +renal, or pulmonary causes of venous congestion must also be treated, +and the functions of the liver regulated. Severe forms of muscular +exertion and prolonged standing or walking are to be avoided, and the +patient may with benefit rest the limb in an elevated position for a few +hours each day. To support the distended vessels, a closely woven silk +or worsted stocking, or a light and porous form of elastic bandage, +applied as a puttee, should be worn. These appliances should be put on +before the patient leaves his bed in the morning, and should only be +removed after he lies down at night. In this way the vessels are never +allowed to become dilated. Elastic stockings, and bandages made entirely +of india-rubber, are to be avoided. In early and mild cases these +measures are usually sufficient to relieve the patient's discomfort. + +_Operative Treatment._--In aggravated cases, when the patient is +suffering pain, when his occupation is interfered with by repeated +attacks of phlebitis, or when there are large pouches on the veins, +operative treatment is called for. The younger the patient the clearer +is the indication to operate. It may be necessary to operate to enable a +patient to enter one of the public services, even although no symptoms +are present. The presence of an ulcer does not contra-indicate +operation; the ulcer should be excised, and the raw surface covered with +skin grafts, before dealing with the veins. + +The _operation of Trendelenburg_ is especially appropriate to cases in +which the trunk of the great saphena vein in the thigh is alone +involved. It consists in exposing three or four inches of the vein in +its upper part, applying a ligature at the upper and lower ends of the +exposed portion, and, after tying all tributary branches, resecting this +portion of the vein. + +The procedure of C. H. Mayo is adapted to cases in which it is desirable +to remove longer segments of the veins. It consists in the employment of +special instruments known as "ring-enucleators" or "vein-strippers," by +means of which long portions of the vein are removed through +comparatively small incisions. + +An alternative procedure consists in avulsing segments of the vein by +means of Babcock's stylet, which consists of a flexible steel rod, 30 +inches in length, with acorn-shaped terminals. The instrument is passed +along the lumen of the segment to be dealt with, and a ligature applied +around the vein above the bulbous end of the stylet enables nearly the +whole length of the great saphena vein to be dragged out in one piece. +These methods are not suitable when the veins are brittle, when there +are pouches or calcareous deposits in their walls, or where there has +been periphlebitis binding the coils together. + +Mitchell of Belfast advises exposing the varices at numerous points by +half-inch incisions, and, after clamping the vein between two pairs of +forceps, cutting it across and twisting out the segments of the vein +between adjacent incisions. The edges of the incisions are sutured; and +the limb is firmly bandaged from below upwards, and kept in an elevated +position. We have employed this method with satisfactory results. + +The treatment of the complications of varix has already been considered. + + +ANGIOMA[4] + +[4] In the description of angiomas we have followed the teaching of the +late John Duncan. + +Tumours of blood vessels may be divided, according to the nature of the +vessels of which they are composed, into the capillary, the venous, and +the arterial angiomas. + + +CAPILLARY ANGIOMA + +The most common form of capillary angioma is the naevus or congenital +telangiectasis. + +#Naevus.#--A naevus is a collection of dilated capillaries, the afferent +arterioles and the efferent venules of which often share in the +dilatation. Little is known regarding the _etiology_ of naevi beyond the +fact that they are of congenital origin. They often escape notice until +the child is some days old, but attention is usually drawn to them +within a fortnight of birth. For practical purposes the most useful +classification of naevi is into the cutaneous, the subcutaneous, and the +mixed forms. + +_The cutaneous naevus_, "mother's mark," or "port-wine stain," consists +of an aggregation of dilated capillaries in the substance of the skin. +On stretching the skin the vessels can be seen to form a fine network, +or to run in leashes parallel to one another. A dilated arteriole or a +vein winding about among the capillaries may sometimes be detected. +These naevi occur on any part of the body, but they are most frequently +met with on the face. They may be multiple, and vary greatly in size, +some being no bigger than a pin-head, while others cover large areas of +the body. In colour they present every tint from purple to brilliant +red; in the majority there is a considerable dash of blue, especially in +cold weather. + +Unlike the other forms of naevi, the cutaneous variety shows little +tendency to disappear, and it is especially persistent when associated +with overgrowth of the epidermis and of the hairs--_naevoid mole_. + +The _treatment_ of the cutaneous naevus is unsatisfactory, owing to the +difficulty of removing the naevus without leaving a scar which is even +more disfiguring. Very small naevi may be destroyed by a fine pointed +Paquelin thermo-cautery, or by escharotics, such as nitric acid. For +larger naevi, radium and solidified carbon dioxide ("CO_2 snow") may be +used. The extensive port-wine stains so often met with on the face are +best left alone. + +The _subcutaneous naevus_ is comparatively rare. It constitutes a +well-defined, localised tumour, which may possess a distinct capsule, +especially when it has ceased to grow or is retrogressing. On section, +it presents the appearance of a finely reticulated sponge. + +Although it may be noticed at, or within a few days of, birth, a +subcutaneous naevus is often overlooked, especially when on a covered +part of the body, and may not be discovered till the patient is some +years old. It forms a rounded, lobulated swelling, seldom of large size +and yielding a sensation like that of a sponge; the skin over it is +normal, or may exhibit a bluish tinge, especially in cold weather. In +some cases the tumour is diminished by pressing the blood out of it, but +slowly fills again when the pressure is relaxed, and it swells up when +the child struggles or cries. From a cold abscess it is diagnosed by the +history and progress of the swelling and by the absence of fluctuation. +When situated over one of the hernial openings, it closely simulates a +hernia; and when it occurs in the middle line of the face, head, or +back, it may be mistaken for such other congenital conditions as +meningocele or spina bifida. When other means fail, the use of an +exploring needle clears up the diagnosis. + +_Mixed Naevus._--As its name indicates, the mixed naevus partakes of the +characters of the other two varieties; that is, it is a subcutaneous +naevus with involvement of the skin. + +It is frequently met with on the face and head, but may occur on any +part of the body. It also affects parts covered by mucous membrane, such +as the cheek, tongue, and soft palate. The swelling is rounded or +lobulated, and projects beyond the level of its surroundings. Sometimes +the skin is invaded by the naevoid tissue over the whole extent of the +tumour, sometimes only over a limited area. Frequently the margin only +is of a bright-red colour, while the skin in the centre resembles a +cicatrix. The swelling is reduced by steady pressure, and increases in +size and becomes tense when the child cries. + +[Illustration: FIG. 68.--Mixed Naevus of Nose which was subsequently +cured by Electrolysis.] + +_Prognosis._--The rate of growth of the subcutaneous and mixed forms of +naevi varies greatly. They sometimes increase rapidly, especially during +the first few months of life; after this they usually grow at the same +rate as the child, or more slowly. There is a decided tendency to +disappearance of these varieties, fully 50 per cent. undergoing natural +cure by a process of obliteration, similar to the obliteration of +vessels in cicatricial tissue. This usually begins about the period of +the first dentition, sometimes at the second dentition, and sometimes at +puberty. On the other hand, an increased activity of growth may be shown +at these periods. The onset of natural cure is recognised by the tumour +becoming firmer and less compressible, and, in the mixed variety, by the +colour becoming less bright. Injury, infection, or ulceration of the +overlying skin may initiate the curative process. + +Towards adult life the spaces in a subcutaneous naevus may become greatly +enlarged, leading to the formation of a cavernous angioma. + +_Treatment._--In view of the frequency with which subcutaneous and mixed +naevi disappear spontaneously, interference is only called for when the +growth of the tumour is out of proportion to that of the child, or when, +from its situation--for example in the vicinity of the eye--any marked +increase in its size would render it less amenable to treatment. + +The methods of treatment most generally applicable are the use of radium +and carbon dioxide snow, igni-puncture, electrolysis, and excision. + +For naevi situated on exposed parts, where it is desirable to avoid a +scar, the use of _radium_ is to be preferred. The tube of radium is +applied at intervals to different parts of the naevus, the duration and +frequency of the applications varying with the strength of the +emanations and the reaction produced. The object aimed at is to induce +obliteration of the naevoid tissue by cicatricial contraction without +destroying the overlying skin. _Carbon-dioxide snow_ may be employed in +the same manner, but the results are inferior to those obtained by +radium. + +_Igni-puncture_ consists in making a number of punctures at different +parts of the naevus with a fine-pointed thermo-cautery, with the object +of starting at each point a process of cicatrisation which extends +throughout the naevoid tissue and so obliterates the vessels. + +_Electrolysis_ acts by decomposing the blood and tissues into their +constituent elements--oxygen and acids appearing at the positive, +hydrogen and bases at the negative electrode. These substances and gases +being given off in a nascent condition, at once enter into new +combinations with anything in the vicinity with which they have a +chemical affinity. In the naevus the practical result of this reaction is +that at the positive pole nitric acid, and at the negative pole caustic +potash, both in a state of minute subdivision, make their appearance. +The effect on the tissues around the positive pole, therefore, is +equivalent to that of an acid cauterisation, and on those round the +negative pole, to an alkaline cauterisation. + +As the process is painful, a general anaesthetic is necessary. The +current used should be from 20 to 80 milliamperes, gradually increasing +from zero, without shock; three to six large Bunsen cells give a +sufficient current, and no galvanometer is required. Steel needles, +insulated with vulcanite to within an eighth of an inch of their points, +are the best. Both poles are introduced into the naevus, the positive +being kept fixed at one spot, while the negative is moved about so as to +produce a number of different tracks of cauterisation. On no account +must either pole be allowed to come in contact with the skin, lest a +slough be formed. The duration of the sitting is determined by the +effect produced, as indicated by the hardening of the tumour, the +average duration being from fifteen to twenty minutes. If pallor of the +skin appears, it indicates that the needles are too near the surface, or +that the blood supply to the integument is being cut off, and is an +indication to stop. To cauterise the track and so prevent bleeding, the +needles should be slowly withdrawn while the current is flowing. When +the skin is reached the current is turned off. The punctures are covered +with collodion. Six or eight weeks should be allowed to elapse before +repeating the procedure. From two to eight or ten sittings may be +necessary, according to the size and character of the naevus. + +_Excision_ is to be preferred for naevi of moderate size situated on +covered parts of the body, where a scar is of no importance. Its chief +advantages over electrolysis are that a single operation is sufficient, +and that the cure is speedy and certain. The operation is attended with +much less haemorrhage than might be expected. + +#Cavernous Angioma.#--This form of angioma consists of a series of large +blood spaces which are usually derived from the dilatation of the +capillaries of a subcutaneous naevus. The spaces come to communicate +freely with one another by the disappearance of adjacent capillary +walls. While the most common situation is in the subcutaneous tissue, a +cavernous angioma is sometimes met with in internal organs. It may +appear at any age from early youth to middle life, and is of slow growth +and may become stationary. The swelling is rounded or oval, there is no +pulsation or bruit, and the tumour is but slightly compressible. The +treatment consists in dissecting it out. + +#Aneurysm by Anastomosis# is the name applied to a vascular tumour in +which the arteries, veins, and capillaries are all involved. It is met +with chiefly on the upper part of the trunk, the neck, and the scalp. It +tends gradually to increase in size, and may, after many years, attain +an enormous size. The tumour is ill-defined, and varies in consistence. +It is pulsatile, and a systolic bruit or a "thrilling" murmur may be +heard over it. The chief risk is haemorrhage from injury or ulceration. + +[Illustration: FIG. 69.--Cirsoid Aneurysm of Forehead in a boy aet. 10. + +(Mr. J. W. Dowden's case.)] + +The _treatment_ is conducted on the same lines as for naevus. When +electrolysis is employed, it should be directed towards the afferent +vessels; and if it fails to arrest the flow through these, it is useless +to persist with it. In some cases ligation of the afferent vessels has +been successful. + +#Arterial Angioma# or #Cirsoid Aneurysm#.--This is composed of the +enlarged branches of an arterial trunk. It originates in the smaller +branches of an artery--usually the temporal--and may spread to the main +trunk, and may even involve branches of other trunks with which the +affected artery anastomoses. + +The condition is probably congenital in origin, though its appearance is +frequently preceded by an injury. It almost invariably occurs in the +scalp, and is usually met with in adolescent young adults. + +The affected vessels slowly increase in size, and become tortuous, with +narrowings and dilatations here and there. Grooves and gutters are +frequently found in the bone underlying the dilated vessels. + +There is a constant loud bruit in the tumour, which greatly troubles the +patient and may interfere with sleep. There is no tendency either to +natural cure or to rupture, but severe and even fatal haemorrhage may +follow a wound of the dilated vessels. + +[Illustration: FIG. 70.--Cirsoid Aneurysm of Orbit and Face, which +developed after a blow on the Orbit with a cricket ball. + +(From a photograph lent by Sir Montagu Cotterill.)] + +The condition may be treated by excision or by electrolysis. In excision +the haemorrhage is controlled by an elastic tourniquet applied +horizontally round the head, or by ligation of the feeding trunks. In +large tumours the bleeding is formidable. In many cases electrolysis is +to be preferred, and is performed in the same way as for naevus. The +positive pole is placed in the centre of the tumour, while the negative +is introduced into the main affluents one after another. + + +ANEURYSM + +An aneurysm is a sac communicating with an artery, and containing fluid +or coagulated blood. + +Two types are met with--the pathological and the traumatic. It is +convenient to describe in this section also certain conditions in which +there is an abnormal communication between an artery and a +vein--arterio-venous aneurysm. + + +PATHOLOGICAL ANEURYSM + +In this class are included such dilatations as result from weakening of +the arterial coats, combined, in most cases, with a loss of elasticity +in the walls and increase in the arterial tension due to +arterio-sclerosis. In some cases the vessel wall is softened by +arteritis--especially the embolic form--so that it yields before the +pressure of the blood. + +Repeated and sudden raising of the arterial tension, as a result, for +example, of violent muscular efforts or of excessive indulgence in +alcohol, plays an important part in the causation of aneurysm. These +factors probably explain the comparative frequency of aneurysm in those +who follow such arduous occupations as soldiers, sailors, +dock-labourers, and navvies. In these classes the condition usually +manifests itself between the ages of thirty and fifty--that is, when the +vessels are beginning to degenerate, although the heart is still +vigorous and the men are hard at work. The comparative immunity of women +may also be explained by the less severe muscular strain involved by +their occupations and recreations. + +Syphilis plays an important part in the production of aneurysm, probably +by predisposing the patient to arterio-sclerosis and atheroma, and +inducing an increase in the vascular tension in the peripheral vessels, +from loss of elasticity of the vessel wall and narrowing of the lumen as +a result of syphilitic arteritis. It is a striking fact that aneurysm is +seldom met with in women who have not suffered from syphilis. + +#Varieties--Fusiform Aneurysm.#--When the _whole circumference_ of an +artery has been weakened, the tension of the blood causes the walls to +dilate uniformly, so that a fusiform or tubular aneurysm results. All +the coats of the vessel are stretched and form the sac of the aneurysm, +and the affected portion is not only dilated but is also increased in +length. This form is chiefly met with in the arch of the aorta, but may +occur in any of the main arterial trunks. As the sac of the aneurysm +includes all three coats, and as the inner and outer coats are usually +thickened by the deposit in them of connective tissue, this variety +increases in size slowly and seldom gives rise to urgent symptoms. + +As a rule a fusiform aneurysm contains fluid blood, but when the intima +is roughened by disease, especially in the form of calcareous plates, +shreds of clot may adhere to it. + +It has little tendency to natural cure, although this is occasionally +effected by the emerging artery becoming occluded by a clot; it has also +little tendency to rupture. + +#Sacculated Aneurysm.#--When a _limited area_ of the vessel wall is +weakened--for example by atheroma or by other form of arteritis--this +portion yields before the pressure of the blood, and a sacculated +aneurysm results. The internal and middle coats being already damaged, +or, it may be, destroyed, by the primary disease, the stress falls on +the external coat, which in the majority of cases constitutes the sac. +To withstand the pressure the external coat becomes thickened, and as +the aneurysm increases in size it forms adhesions to surrounding +tissues, so that fasciae, tendons, nerves, and other structures may be +found matted together in its wall. The wall is further strengthened by +the deposit on its inner aspect of blood-clot, which may eventually +become organised. + +The contents of the sac consist of fluid blood and a varying amount of +clot which is deposited in concentric layers on the inner aspect of the +sac, where it forms a pale, striated, firm mass, which constitutes a +laminated clot. Near the blood-current the clot is soft, red, and +friable (Fig. 72). The laminated clot not only strengthens the sac, +enabling it to resist the blood-pressure and so prevent rupture, but, if +it increases sufficiently to fill the cavity, may bring about cure. The +principle upon which all methods of treatment are based is to imitate +nature in producing such a clot. + +Sacculated aneurysm, as compared with the fusiform variety, tends to +rupture and also to cure by the formation of laminated clot; natural +cure is sometimes all but complete when extension and rupture occur and +cause death. + +An aneurysm is said to be _diffused_ when the sac ruptures and the blood +escapes into the cellular tissue. + +#Clinical Features of Aneurysm.#--Surgically, the sacculated is by far +the most important variety. The outstanding feature is the existence in +the line of an artery of a globular swelling, which pulsates. The +pulsation is of an expansile character, which is detected by observing +that when both hands are placed over the swelling they are separated +with each beat of the heart. If the main artery be compressed on the +cardiac side of the swelling, the pulsation is arrested and the tumour +becomes smaller and less tense, and it may be still further reduced in +size by gentle pressure being made over it so as to empty it of fluid +blood. On allowing the blood again to flow through the artery, the +pulsation returns at once, but several beats are required before the sac +regains its former size. In most cases a distinct thrill is felt on +placing the hand over the swelling, and a blowing, systolic murmur may +be heard with the stethoscope. It is to be borne in mind that +occasionally, when the interchange of blood between an aneurysm and the +artery from which it arises is small, pulsation and bruit may be slight +or even absent. This is also the case when the sac contains a +considerable quantity of clot. When it becomes filled with +clot--_consolidated aneurysm_--these signs disappear, and the clinical +features are those of a solid tumour lying in contact with an artery, +and transmitting its pulsation. + +A comparison of the pulse in the artery beyond the seat of the aneurysm +with that in the corresponding artery on the healthy side, shows that on +the affected side the wave is smaller in volume, and delayed in time. A +pulse tracing shows that the normal impulse and dicrotic waves are lost, +and that the force and rapidity of the tidal wave are diminished. + +[Illustration: FIG. 71.--Radiogram of Aneurysm of Aorta, showing +laminated clot and erosion of bodies of vertebrae. The intervertebral +discs are intact.] + +An aneurysm exerts pressure on the surrounding structures, which are +usually thickened and adherent to it and to one another. Adjacent veins +may be so compressed that congestion and oedema of the parts beyond are +produced. Pain, disturbances of sensation, and muscular paralyses may +result from pressure on nerves. Such bones as the sternum and vertebrae +undergo erosion and are absorbed by the gradually increasing pressure of +the aneurysm. Cartilage, on the other hand, being elastic, yields before +the pressure, so that the intervertebral discs or the costal cartilages +may escape while the adjacent bones are destroyed (Fig. 71). The skin +over the tumour becomes thinned and stretched, until finally a slough +forms, and when it separates haemorrhage takes place. + +[Illustration: FIG. 72.--Sacculated Aneurysm of Abdominal Aorta nearly +filled with laminated clot. Note greater density of clot towards +periphery.] + +In the progress of an aneurysm towards rupture, timely clotting may +avert death for the moment, but while extension in one direction has +been arrested there is apt to be extension in another, with imminence of +rupture, or it may be again postponed. + +#Differential Diagnosis.#--The diagnosis is to be made from other +pulsatile swellings. Pulsation is sometimes transmitted from a large +artery to a tumour, a mass of enlarged lymph glands, or an inflammatory +swelling which lies in its vicinity, but the pulsation is not +expansile--a most important point in differential diagnosis. Such +swellings may, by appropriate manipulation, be moved from the artery and +the pulsation ceases, and compression of the artery on the cardiac side +of the swelling, although it arrests the pulsation, does not produce any +diminution in the size or tension of the swelling, and when the pressure +is removed the pulsation is restored immediately. + +Fluid swellings overlying an artery, such as cysts, abscesses, or +enlarged bursae, may closely simulate aneurysm. An apparent expansion may +accompany the pulsation, but careful examination usually enables this to +be distinguished from the true expansion of an aneurysm. Compression of +the artery makes no difference in the size or tension of the swelling. + +Vascular tumours, such as sarcoma and goitre, may yield an expansile +pulsation and a soft, whifling bruit, but they differ from an aneurysm +in that they are not diminished in size by compression of the main +artery, nor can they be emptied by pressure. + +The exaggerated pulsation sometimes observed in the abdominal aorta, the +"pulsating aorta" seen in women, should not be mistaken for aneurysm. + +#Prognosis.#--When _natural cure_ occurs it is usually brought about by +the formation of laminated clot, which gradually increases in amount +till it fills the sac. Sometimes a portion of the clot in the sac is +separated and becomes impacted as an embolus in the artery beyond, +leading to thrombosis which first occludes the artery and then extends +into the sac. + +The progress of natural cure is indicated by the aneurysm becoming +smaller, firmer, less expansile, and less compressible; the murmur and +thrill diminish and the pressure effects become less marked. When the +cure is complete the expansile pulsation is lost, and there remains a +firm swelling attached to the vessel (_consolidated aneurysm_). While +these changes are taking place the collateral arteries become enlarged, +and an anastomotic circulation is established. + +An aneurysm may prove _fatal_ by exerting pressure on important +structures, by causing syncope, by rupture, or from the occurrence of +suppuration. _Pressure_ symptoms are usually most serious from aneurysms +situated in the neck, thorax, or skull. Sudden fatal _syncope_ is not +infrequent in cases of aneurysm of the thoracic aorta. + +_Rupture_ may take place through the skin, on a mucous or serous +surface, or into the cellular tissue. The first haemorrhage is often +slight and stops naturally, but it soon recurs, and is so profuse, +especially when the blood escapes externally, that it rapidly proves +fatal. When the bleeding takes place into the cellular tissue, the +aneurysm is said to become _diffused_, and the extravasated blood +spreads widely through the tissues, exerting great pressure on the +surrounding structures. + +The _clinical features_ associated with rupture are sudden and severe +pain in the part, and the patient becomes pale, cold, and faint. If a +comparatively small escape of blood takes place into the tissues, the +sudden alteration in the size, shape, and tension of the aneurysm, +together with loss of pulsation, may be the only local signs. When the +bleeding is profuse, however, the parts beyond the aneurysm become +greatly swollen, livid, and cold, and the pulse beyond is completely +lost. The arrest of the blood supply may result in gangrene. Sometimes +the pressure of the extravasated blood causes the skin to slough and, +later, give way, and fatal haemorrhage results. + +The _treatment_ is carried out on the same lines as for a ruptured +artery (p. 261), it being remembered, however, that the artery is +diseased and does not lend itself to reconstructive procedures. + +_Suppuration_ may occur in the vicinity of an aneurysm, and the aneurysm +may burst into the abscess which forms, so that when the latter points +the pus is mixed with broken-down blood-clot, and finally free +haemorrhage takes place. It has more than once happened that a surgeon +has incised such an abscess without having recognised its association +with aneurysm, with tragic results. + +#Treatment.#--In treating an aneurysm, the indications are to imitate +Nature's method of cure by means of laminated clot. + +_Constitutional treatment_ consists in taking measures to reduce the +arterial tension and to diminish the force of the heart's action. The +patient must be kept in bed. A dry and non-stimulating diet is +indicated, the quantity being gradually reduced till it is just +sufficient to maintain nutrition. Saline purges are employed to reduce +the vascular tension. The benefit derived from potassium iodide +administered in full doses, as first recommended by George W. Balfour, +probably depends on its depressing action on the heart and its +therapeutic benefit in syphilis. Pain or restlessness may call for the +use of opiates, of which heroin is the most efficient. + +_Local Treatment._--When constitutional treatment fails, local measures +must be adopted, and many methods are available. + +#Endo-aneurysmorrhaphy.#--The operation devised by Rudolf Matas in 1888 +aims at closing the opening between the sac and its feeding artery, and +in addition, folding the wall of the sac in such a way as to leave no +vacant space. If there is marked disease of the vessel, Matas' operation +is not possible and recourse is then had to ligation of the artery just +above the sac. + +_Extirpation of the Sac--The Old Operation._--The procedure which goes +by this name consists in exposing the aneurysm, incising the sac, +clearing out the clots, and ligating the artery above and below the sac. +This method is suitable to sacculated aneurysm of the limbs, so long as +they are circumscribed and free from complications. It has been +successfully practised also in aneurysm of the subclavian, carotid, and +external iliac arteries. It is not applicable to cases in which there is +such a degree of atheroma as would interfere with the successful +ligation of the artery. The continuity of the artery may be restored by +grafting into the gap left after excision of the sac a segment of the +great saphena vein. + +_Ligation of the Artery._--The object of tying the artery is to diminish +or to arrest the flow of blood through the aneurysm so that the blood +coagulates both in the sac and in the feeding artery. The ligature may +be applied on the cardiac side of the aneurysm--proximal ligation, or to +the artery beyond--distal ligation. + +_Proximal Ligation._--The ligature may be applied immediately above the +sac (Anel, 1710) or at a distance above (John Hunter, 1785). The +_Hunterian operation_ ensures that the ligature is applied to a part of +the artery that is presumably healthy and where relations are +undisturbed by the proximity of the sac; the best example is the +ligation of the superficial femoral artery in Scarpa's triangle or in +Hunter's canal for popliteal aneurysm; it is on record that Syme +performed this operation with cure of the aneurysm on thirty-nine +occasions. + +It is to be noted that the Hunterian ligature does not aim at +_arresting_ the flow of blood through the sac, but is designed so to +diminish its volume and force as to favour the deposition within the sac +of laminated clot. The development of the collateral circulation which +follows upon ligation of the artery at a distance above the sac may be +attended with just that amount of return stream which favours the +deposit of laminated clot, and consequently the cure of the aneurysm; +the return stream may, however, be so forcible as to prevent coagulation +of the blood in the sac, or only to allow of the formation of a red +thrombus which may in its turn be dispersed so that pulsation in the sac +recurs. This does not necessarily imply failure to cure, as the +recurrent pulsation may only be temporary; the formation of laminated +clot may ultimately take place and lead to consolidation of the +aneurysm. + +The least desirable result of the Hunterian ligature is met with in +cases where, owing to widespread arterial disease, the collateral +circulation does not develop and gangrene of the limb supervenes. + +_Anel's ligature_ is only practised as part of the operation which deals +with the sac directly. + +_Distal Ligation._--The tying of the artery beyond the sac, or of its +two branches where it bifurcates (Brasdor, 1760, and Wardrop, 1825), may +arrest or only diminish the flow of blood through the sac. It is less +successful than the proximal ligature, and is therefore restricted to +aneurysms so situated as not to be amenable to other methods; for +example, in aneurysm of the common carotid near its origin, the artery +may be ligated near its bifurcation, or in aneurysm of the innominate +artery, the carotid and subclavian arteries are tied at the seat of +election. + +_Compression._--Digital compression of the feeding artery has been given +up except as a preparation for operations on the sac with a view to +favouring the development of a collateral circulation. + +_Macewen's acupuncture or "needling"_ consists in passing one or more +fine, highly tempered steel needles through the tissues overlying the +aneurysm, and through its outer wall. The needles are made to touch the +opposite wall of the sac, and the pulsation of the aneurysm imparts a +movement to them which causes them to scarify the inner surface of the +sac. White thrombus forms on the rough surface produced, and leads to +further coagulation. The needles may be left in position for some hours, +being shifted from time to time, the projecting ends being surrounded +with sterile gauze. + +The _Moore-Corradi method_ consists in introducing through the wall of +the aneurysm a hollow insulated needle, through the lumen of which from +10 to 20 feet of highly drawn silver or other wire is passed into the +sac, where it coils up into an open meshwork (Fig. 73). The positive +pole of a galvanic battery is attached to the wire, and the negative +pole placed over the patient's back. A current, varying in strength from +20 to 70 milliamperes, is allowed to flow for about an hour. The hollow +needle is then withdrawn, but the wire is left _in situ_. The results +are somewhat similar to those obtained by needling, but the clot formed +on the large coil of wire is more extensive. + +[Illustration: FIG. 73.--Radiogram of Innominate Aneurysm after +treatment by the Moore-Corradi method. Two feet of finely drawn silver +wire were introduced. The patient, a woman, aet. 47, lived for ten months +after operation, free from pain (cf. Fig. 75).] + +Colt's method of wiring has been mainly used in the treatment of +abdominal aneurysm; gilt wire in the form of a wisp is introduced +through the cannula and expands into an umbrella shape. + +_Subcutaneous Injections of Gelatin._--Three or four ounces of a 2 per +cent. solution of white gelatin in sterilised water, at a temperature of +about 100 F., are injected into the subcutaneous tissue of the abdomen +every two, three, or four days. In the course of a fortnight or three +weeks improvement may begin. The clot which forms is liable to soften +and be absorbed, but a repetition of the injection has in several cases +established a permanent cure. + +_Amputation of the limb_ is indicated in cases complicated by +suppuration, by secondary haemorrhage after excision or ligation, or by +gangrene. Amputation at the shoulder was performed by Fergusson in a +case of subclavian aneurysm, as a means of arresting the blood-flow +through the sac. + + +TRAUMATIC ANEURYSM + +The essential feature of a traumatic aneurysm is that it is produced by +some form of injury which divides all the coats of the artery. The walls +of the injured vessel are presumably healthy, but they form no part of +the sac of the aneurysm. The sac consists of the condensed and thickened +tissues around the artery. + +The injury to the artery may be a subcutaneous one such as a tear by a +fragment of bone: much more commonly it is a punctured wound from a stab +or from a bullet. + +The aneurysm usually forms soon after the injury is inflicted; the blood +slowly escapes into the surrounding tissues, gradually displacing and +condensing them, until they form a sac enclosing the effused blood. + +Less frequently a traumatic aneurysm forms some considerable time after +the injury, from gradual stretching of the fibrous cicatrix by which the +wound in the wall of the artery has been closed. The gradual stretching +of this cicatrix results in condensation of the surrounding structures +which form the sac, on the inner aspect of which laminated clot is +deposited. + +A traumatic aneurysm is almost always sacculated, and, so long as it +remains circumscribed, has the same characters as a pathological +sacculated aneurysm, with the addition that there is a scar in the +overlying skin. A traumatic aneurysm is liable to become diffuse--a +change which, although attended with considerable risk of gangrene, has +sometimes been the means of bringing about a cure. + +The treatment is governed by the same principles as apply to the +pathological varieties, but as the walls of the artery are not diseased, +operative measures dealing with the sac and the adjacent segment of the +affected artery are to be preferred. + + +ARTERIO-VENOUS ANEURYSM + +An abnormal communication between an artery and a vein constitutes an +arterio-venous aneurysm. Two varieties are recognised--one in which the +communication is direct--_aneurysmal varix_; the other in which the +vein communicates with the artery through the medium of a sac--_varicose +aneurysm_. + +Either variety may result from pathological causes, but in the majority +of cases they are traumatic in origin, being due to such injuries as +stabs, punctured wounds, and gun-shot injuries which involve both artery +and vein. In former times the most common situation was at the bend of +the elbow, the brachial artery being accidentally punctured in +blood-letting from the median basilic vein. Arterio-venous aneurysm is a +frequent result of injuries by modern high-velocity bullets--for +example, in the neck or groin. + +In _aneurysmal varix_ the higher blood pressure in the artery forces +arterial blood into the vein, which near the point of communication with +the artery tends to become dilated, and to form a thick-walled sac, +beyond which the vessel and its tributaries are distended and tortuous. +The clinical features resemble those associated with varicose veins, but +the entrance of arterial blood into the dilated veins causes them to +pulsate, and produces in them a vibratory thrill and a loud murmur. In +those at the groin, the distension of the veins may be so great that +they look like sinuses running through the muscles, a feature that must +be taken into account in any operation. + +As the condition tends to remain stationary, the support of an elastic +bandage is all that is required; but when the condition progresses and +causes serious inconvenience, it may be necessary to cut down and expose +the communication between the artery and vein, and, after separating the +vessels, to close the opening in each by suture; this may be difficult +or impossible if the parts are matted from former suppuration. If it is +impossible thus to obliterate the communication, the artery should be +ligated above and below the point of communication; although the risk of +gangrene is considerable unless means are taken to develop the +collateral circulation beforehand (Makins). + +_Varicose aneurysm_ usually develops in relation to a traumatic +aneurysm, the sac becoming adherent to an adjacent vein, and ultimately +opening into it. In this way a communication between the artery and the +vein is established, and the clinical features are those of a +combination of aneurysm and aneurysmal varix. + +As there is little tendency to spontaneous cure, and as the aneurysm is +liable to increase in size and finally to rupture, operative treatment +is usually called for. This is carried out on the same lines as for +aneurysmal varix, and at the same time incising the sac, turning out the +clots, and ligating any branches which open into the sac. If it can be +avoided, the vein should not be ligated. + + +ANEURYSMS OF INDIVIDUAL ARTERIES + +#Thoracic Aneurysm.#--All varieties of aneurysm occur in the aorta, the +fusiform being the most common, although a sacculated aneurysm +frequently springs from a fusiform dilatation. + +The _clinical features_ depend chiefly on the direction in which the +aneurysm enlarges, and are not always well marked even when the sac is +of considerable size. They consist in a pulsatile swelling--sometimes in +the supra-sternal notch, but usually towards the right side of the +sternum--with an increased area of dulness on percussion. With the +X-rays a dark shadow is seen corresponding to the sac. Pain is usually a +prominent symptom, and is largely referable to the pressure of the +aneurysm on the vertebrae or the sternum, causing erosion of these bones. +Pressure on the thoracic veins and on the air-passage causes cyanosis +and dyspnoea. When the oesophagus is pressed upon, the patient may have +difficulty in swallowing. The left recurrent nerve may be stretched or +pressed upon as it hooks round the arch of the aorta, and hoarseness of +the voice and a characteristic "brassy" cough may result from paralysis +of the muscles of the larynx which it supplies. The vagus, the phrenic, +and the spinal nerves may also be pressed upon. When the aneurysm is on +the transverse part of the arch, the trachea is pulled down with each +beat of the heart--a clinical phenomena known as the "tracheal tug." +Aneurysm of the descending aorta may, after eroding the bodies of the +vertebrae (Fig. 71) and posterior portions of the ribs, form a swelling +in the back to the left of the spine. + +Inasmuch as obliteration of the sac and the feeding artery is out of the +question, surgical treatment is confined to causing coagulation of the +blood in an extension or pouching of the sac, which, making its way +through the parietes of the chest, threatens to rupture externally. This +may be achieved by Macewen's needles or by the introduction of wire into +the sac. We have had cases under observation in which the treatment +referred to has been followed by such an amount of improvement that the +patient has been able to resume a laborious occupation for one or more +years. Christopher Heath found that improvement followed ligation of the +left common carotid in aneurysm of the transverse part of the aortic +arch. + +[Illustration: FIG. 74.--Thoracic Aneurysm, threatening to rupture +externally, but prevented from doing so by Macewen's needling. The +needles were left in for forty-eight hours.] + +#Abdominal Aneurysm.#--Aneurysm is much less frequent in the abdominal +than in the thoracic aorta. While any of the large branches in the +abdomen may be affected, the most common seats are in the aorta itself, +just above the origin of the coeliac artery and at the bifurcation. + +The _clinical features_ vary with the site of the aneurysm and with its +rapidity and direction of growth. A smooth, rounded swelling, which +exhibits expansile pulsation, forms, usually towards the left of the +middle line. It may extend upwards under cover of the ribs, downwards +towards the pelvis, or backward towards the loin. On palpation a +systolic thrill may be detected, but the presence of a murmur is neither +constant nor characteristic. Pain is usually present; it may be +neuralgic in character, or may simulate renal colic. When the aneurysm +presses on the vertebrae and erodes them, the symptoms simulate those of +spinal caries, particularly if, as sometimes happens, symptoms of +compression paraplegia ensue. In its growth the swelling may press upon +and displace the adjacent viscera, and so interfere with their +functions. + +The _diagnosis_ has to be made from solid or cystic tumours overlying +the artery; from a "pulsating aorta"; and from spinal caries; much help +is obtained by the use of the X-rays. + +The condition usually proves fatal, either by the aneurysm bursting into +the peritoneal cavity, or by slow leakage into the retro-peritoneal +tissue. + +The Moore-Corradi method has been successfully employed, access to the +sac having been obtained by opening the abdomen. Ligation of the aorta +has so far been unsuccessful, but in one case operated upon by Keen the +patient survived forty-eight days. + +#Innominate aneurysm# may be of the fusiform or of the sacculated +variety, and is frequently associated with pouching of the aorta. It +usually grows upwards and laterally, projecting above the sternum and +right clavicle, which may be eroded or displaced (Fig. 75). Symptoms of +pressure on the structures in the neck, similar to those produced by +aortic aneurysm, occur. The pulses in the right upper extremity and in +the right carotid and its branches are diminished and delayed. Pressure +on the right brachial plexus causes shooting pain down the arm and +muscular paresis on that side. Vaso-motor disturbances and contraction +of the pupil on the right side may result from pressure on the +sympathetic. Death may take place from rupture, or from pressure on the +air-passage. + +[Illustration: FIG. 75.--Innominate Aneurysm in a woman, aet. 47, eight +months after treatment by Moore-Corradi method (cf. Fig. 73).] + +The available methods of treatment are ligation of the right common +carotid and third part of the right subclavian (Wardrop's operation), of +which a number of successful cases have been recorded. Those most +suitable for ligation are cases in which the aneurysm is circumscribed +and globular (Sheen). If ligation is found to be impracticable, the +Moore-Corradi method or Macewen's needling may be tried. + +#Carotid Aneurysms.#--Aneurysm of the _common carotid_ is more frequent +on the right than on the left side, and is usually situated either at +the root of the neck or near the bifurcation. It is the aneurysm most +frequently met with in women. From its position the swelling is liable +to press on the vagus, recurrent and sympathetic nerves, on the +air-passage, and on the oesophagus, giving rise to symptoms referable to +such pressure. There may be cerebral symptoms from interference with the +blood supply of the brain. + +Aneurysm near the origin has to be diagnosed from subclavian, +innominate, and aortic aneurysm, and from other swellings--solid or +fluid--met with in the neck. It is often difficult to determine with +precision the trunk from which an aneurysm at the root of the neck +originates, and not infrequently more than one vessel shares in the +dilatation. A careful consideration of the position in which the +swelling first appeared, of the direction in which it has progressed, of +its pressure effects, and of the condition of the pulses beyond, may +help in distinguishing between aortic, innominate, carotid, and +subclavian aneurysms. Skiagraphy is also of assistance in recognising +the vessel involved. + +Tumours of the thyreoid, enlarged lymph glands, and fatty and +sarcomatous tumours can usually be distinguished from aneurysm by the +history of the swelling and by physical examination. Cystic tumours and +abscesses in the neck are sometimes more difficult to differentiate on +account of the apparently expansile character of the pulsation +transmitted to them. The fact that compression of the vessel does not +affect the size and tension of these fluid swellings is useful in +distinguishing them from aneurysm. + +_Treatment._--Digital compression of the vessel against the transverse +process of the sixth cervical vertebra--the "carotid tubercle"--has been +successfully employed in the treatment of aneurysm near the bifurcation. +Proximal ligation in the case of high aneurysms, or distal ligation in +those situated at the root of the neck, is more certain. Extirpation of +the sac is probably the best method of treatment, especially in those of +traumatic origin. These operations are attended with considerable risk +of hemiplegia from interference with the blood supply of the brain. + +The _external carotid_ and the cervical portion of the _internal +carotid_ are seldom the primary seat of aneurysm, although they are +liable to be implicated by the upward spread of an aneurysm at the +bifurcation of the common trunk. In addition to the ordinary signs of +aneurysm, the clinical manifestations are chiefly referable to pressure +on the pharynx and larynx, and on the hypoglossal nerve. Aneurysm of the +internal carotid is of special importance on account of the way in which +it bulges into the pharynx in the region of the tonsil, in some cases +closely simulating a tonsillar abscess. Cases are on record in which +such an aneurysm has been mistaken for an abscess and incised, with +disastrous results. + +_Aneurysmal varix_ may occur in the neck as a result of stabs or bullet +wounds. The communication is usually between the common carotid artery +and the internal jugular vein. The resulting interference with the +cerebral circulation causes headache, giddiness, and other brain +symptoms, and a persistent loud murmur is usually a source of annoyance +to the patient and may be sufficient indication for operative treatment. + +#Intracranial aneurysm# involves the internal carotid and its branches, +or the basilar artery, and appears to be more frequently associated with +syphilis and with valvular disease of the heart than are external +aneurysms. It gives rise to symptoms similar to those of other +intracranial tumours, and there is sometimes a loud murmur. It usually +proves fatal by rupture, and intracranial haemorrhage. The treatment is +to ligate the common carotid or the vertebral artery in the neck, +according to the seat of the aneurysm. + +#Orbital Aneurysm.#--The term pulsating exophthalmos is employed to +embrace a number of pathological conditions, including aneurysm, in +which the chief symptoms are pulsation in the orbit and protrusion of +the eyeball. There may be, in addition, congestion and oedema of the +eyelids, and a distinct thrill and murmur, which can be controlled by +compression of the common carotid in the neck. Varying degrees of ocular +paralysis and of interference with vision may also be present. + +These symptoms are due, in the majority of cases, to an aneurysmal varix +of the internal carotid artery and cavernous sinus, which is often +traumatic in origin, being produced either by fracture of the base of +the skull or by a punctured wound of the orbit. In other cases they are +due to aneurysm of the ophthalmic artery, to thrombosis of the cavernous +sinus, and, in rare instances, to cirsoid aneurysm. + +If compression of the common carotid is found to arrest the pulsation, +ligation of this vessel is indicated. + +#Subclavian Aneurysm.#--Subclavian aneurysm is usually met with in men +who follow occupations involving constant use of the shoulder--for +example, dock-porters and coal-heavers. It is more common on the right +side. + +The aneurysm usually springs from the third part of the artery, and +appears as a tense, rounded, pulsatile swelling just above the clavicle +and to the outer side of the sterno-mastoid muscle. It occasionally +extends towards the thorax, where it may become adherent to the pleura. +The radial pulse on the same side is small and delayed. Congestion and +oedema of the arm, with pain, numbness, and muscular weakness, may result +from pressure on the veins and nerves as they pass under the clavicle; +and pressure on the phrenic nerve may induce hiccough. The aneurysm is +of slow growth, and occasionally undergoes spontaneous cure. + +The conditions most likely to be mistaken for it are a soft, rapidly +growing sarcoma, and a normal artery raised on a cervical rib. + +On account of the relations of the artery and of its branches, treatment +is attended with greater difficulty and danger in subclavian than in +almost any other form of external aneurysm. The available operative +measures are proximal ligation of the innominate, and distal ligation. +In some cases it has been found necessary to combine distal ligation +with amputation at the shoulder-joint, to prevent the collateral +circulation maintaining the flow through the aneurysm. Matas' operation +has been successfully performed by Hogarth Pringle. + +#Axillary Aneurysm.#--This is usually met with in the right arm of +labouring men and sailors, and not infrequently follows an injury in the +region of the shoulder. The vessel may be damaged by the head of a +dislocated humerus or in attempts to reduce the dislocation, by the +fragments of a fractured bone, or by a stab or cut. Sometimes the vein +also is injured and an arterio-venous aneurysm established. + +Owing to the laxity of the tissues, it increases rapidly, and it may +soon attain a large size, filling up the axilla, and displacing the +clavicle upwards. This renders compression of the third part of the +subclavian difficult or impossible. It may extend beneath the clavicle +into the neck, or, extending inwards may form adhesions to the chest +wall, and, after eroding the ribs, to the pleura. + +The usual symptoms of aneurysm are present, and the pressure effects on +the veins and nerves are similar to those produced by an aneurysm of the +subclavian. Intra-thoracic complications, such as pleurisy or pneumonia, +are not infrequent when there are adhesions to the chest wall and +pleura. Rupture may take place externally, into the shoulder-joint, or +into the pleura. + +Extirpation of the sac is the operation of choice, but, if this is +impracticable, ligation of the third part of the subclavian may be had +recourse to. + +#Brachial aneurysm# usually occurs at the bend of the elbow, is of +traumatic origin, and is best treated by excision of the sac. + +_Aneurysmal varix_, which was frequently met with in this situation in +the days of the barber-surgeons,--usually as a result of the artery +having been accidentally wounded while performing venesection of the +median basilic vein,--may be treated, according to the amount of +discomfort it causes, by a supporting bandage, or by ligation of the +artery above and below the point of communication. + +Aneurysms of the vessels of the #forearm and hand# call for no special +mention; they are almost invariably traumatic, and are treated by +excision of the sac. + +#Inguinal Aneurysm# (_Aneurysm of the Iliac and Femoral +Arteries_).--Aneurysms appearing in the region of Poupart's ligament may +have their origin in the external or common iliac arteries or in the +upper part of the femoral. On account of the tension of the fascia lata, +they tend to spread upwards towards the abdomen, and, to a less extent, +downwards into the thigh. Sometimes a constriction occurs across the +sac at the level of Poupart's ligament. + +The pressure exerted on the nerves and veins of the lower extremity +causes pain, congestion, and oedema of the limb. Rupture may take place +externally, or into the cellular tissue of the iliac fossa. + +These aneurysms have to be diagnosed from pulsating sarcoma growing from +the pelvic bones, and from an abscess or a mass of enlarged lymph glands +overlying the artery and transmitting its pulsation. + +The method of treatment that has met with most success is ligation of +the common or external iliac, reached either by reflecting the +peritoneum from off the iliac fossa (extra-peritoneal operation), or by +going through the peritoneal cavity (trans-peritoneal operation). + +#Gluteal Aneurysm.#--An aneurysm in the buttock may arise from the +superior or from the inferior gluteal artery, but by the time it forms a +salient swelling it is seldom possible to recognise by external +examination in which vessel it takes origin. The special symptoms to +which it gives rise are pain down the limb from pressure on the sciatic +nerve, and interference with the movements at the hip. + +Ligation of the hypogastric (internal iliac) by the trans-peritoneal +route is the most satisfactory method of treatment. Extirpation of the +sac is difficult and dangerous, especially when the aneurysm has spread +into the pelvis. + +#Femoral Aneurysm.#--Aneurysm of the femoral artery beyond the origin of +the profunda branch is usually traumatic in origin, and is more common +in Scarpa's triangle than in Hunter's canal. Any of the methods already +described is available for their treatment--the choice lying between +Matas' operation and ligation of the external iliac. + +Aneurysm of the _profunda femoris_ is distinguished from that of the +main trunk by the fact that the pulses beyond are, in the former, +unaffected, and by the normal artery being felt pulsating over or +alongside the sac. + +In _aneurysmal varix_, a not infrequent result of a bullet wound or a +stab, the communication with the vein may involve the main trunk of the +femoral artery. Should operative interference become necessary as a +result of progressive increase in size of the tumour, or progressive +distension of the veins of the limb, an attempt should be made to +separate the vessels concerned and to close the opening in each by +suture. If this is impracticable, the artery is tied above and below the +communication; gangrene of the limb may supervene, and we have observed +a case in which the gangrene extended up to the junction of the middle +and lower thirds of the thigh, and in which recovery followed upon +amputation of the thigh. + +#Popliteal Aneurysm.#--This is the most common surgical aneurysm, and is +not infrequently met with in both limbs. It is generally due to disease +of the artery, and repeated slight strains, which are so liable to occur +at the knee, play an important part in its formation. In former times it +was common in post-boys, from the repeated flexion and extension of the +knee in riding. + +The aneurysm is usually of the sacculated variety, and may spring from +the front or from the back of the vessel. It may exert pressure on the +bones and ligaments of the joint, and it has been known to rupture into +the articulation. The pain, stiffness, and effusion into the joint which +accompany these changes often lead to an erroneous diagnosis of joint +disease. The sac may press upon the popliteal artery or vein and their +branches, causing congestion and oedema of the leg, and lead to gangrene. +Pressure on the tibial and common peroneal nerves gives rise to severe +pain, muscular cramp, and weakness of the leg. + +The differential diagnosis is to be made from abscess, bursal cyst, +enlarged glands, and sarcoma, especially pulsating sarcoma of one of the +bones entering into the knee joint. + +The choice of operation lies between ligation of the femoral artery in +Hunter's canal, and Matas' operation of aneurysmo-arteriorrhaphy. The +success which attends the Hunterian operation is evidenced by the fact +that Syme performed it thirty-seven times without a single failure. If +it fails, the old operation should be considered, but it is a more +serious operation, and one which is more liable to be followed by +gangrene of the limb. Experience shows that ligation of the vein, or +even the removal of a portion of it, is not necessarily followed by +gangrene. The risk of gangrene is diminished by a course of digital +compression of the femoral artery, before operating on the aneurysm. + +_Aneurysmal varix_ is sometimes met with in the region of the popliteal +space. It is characterised by the usual symptoms, and is treated by +palliative measures, or by ligation of the artery above and below the +point of communication. + +_Aneurysm_ in the #leg and foot# is rare. It is almost always traumatic, +and is treated by excision of the sac. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE LYMPH VESSELS AND GLANDS + + +Anatomy and Physiology--INJURIES OF LYMPH VESSELS--_Wounds of + thoracic duct_--DISEASES OF LYMPH VESSELS--Lymphangitis: + _Varieties_--Lymphangiectasis--Filarial + disease--Lymphangioma--DISEASES OF LYMPH + GLANDS--Lymphadenitis: _Septic_; _Tuberculous_; + _Syphilitic_--Lymphadenoma--Leucocythaemia--TUMOURS. + +#Surgical Anatomy and Physiology.#--Lymph is essentially blood plasma, +which has passed through the walls of capillaries. After bathing +and nourishing the tissues, it is collected by lymph vessels, which +return it to the blood stream by way of the thoracic duct. These lymph +vessels take origin in the lymph spaces of the tissues and in the +walls of serous cavities, and they usually run alongside blood +vessels--_perivascular lymph vessels_. They have a structure similar to +that of veins, but are more abundantly provided with valves. Along the +course of the lymph trunks are the _lymph glands_, which possess a +definite capsule and are composed of a reticulated connective tissue, +the spaces of which are packed with leucocytes. The glands act as +filters, arresting not only inert substances, such as blood pigment +circulating in the lymph, but also living elements, such as cancer cells +or bacteria. As it passes through a gland the lymph is brought into +intimate contact with the leucocytes, and in bacterial infections there +is always a struggle between the organisms and the leucocytes, so that +the glands may be looked upon as an important line of defence, retarding +or preventing the passage of bacteria and their products into the +general circulation. The infective agent, moreover, in order to reach +the blood stream, must usually overcome the resistance of several +glands. + +Lymph glands are, for the most part, arranged in groups or chains, such +as those in the axilla, neck, and groin. In any given situation they +vary in number and size in different individuals, and fresh glands may +be formed on comparatively slight stimulus, and disappear when the +stimulus is withdrawn. The best-known example of this is the increase in +the number of glands in the axilla which takes place during lactation; +when this function ceases, many of the glands become involuted and are +transformed into fat, and in the event of a subsequent lactation they +are again developed. After glands have been removed by operation, new +ones may be formed. + +The following are the more important groups of glands, and the areas +drained by them in the head and neck and in the extremities. + +#Head and Neck.#--_The anterior auricular (parotid and pre-auricular) +glands_ lie beneath the parotid fascia in front of the ear, and some +are partly embedded in the substance of the parotid gland; they drain +the parts about the temple, cheek, eyelids, and auricle, and are +frequently the seat of tuberculous disease. _The occipital gland_, +situated over the origin of the trapezius from the superior curved line, +drains the top and back of the head; it is rarely infected. _The +posterior auricular (mastoid) glands_ lie over the mastoid process, and +drain the side of the head and auricle. These three groups pour their +lymph into the superficial cervical glands. _The submaxillary_--two to +six in number--lie along the lower order of the mandible from the +symphysis to the angle, the posterior ones (paramandibular) being +closely connected with the submaxillary salivary gland. They receive +lymph from the face, lips, floor of the mouth, gums, teeth, anterior +part of tongue, and the alae nasi, and from the pre-auricular glands. The +lymph passes from them into the deeper cervical glands. They are +frequently infected with tubercle, with epithelioma which has spread to +them from the mouth, and also with pyogenic organisms. _The submental +glands_ lie in or close to the median line between the anterior bellies +of the digastric muscles, and receive lymph from the lips. It is rare +for them to be the seat of tubercle, but in epithelioma of the lower lip +and floor of the mouth they are infected at an early stage of the +disease. _The supra-hyoid gland_ lies a little farther back, immediately +above the hyoid bone, and receives lymph from the tongue. _The +superficial cervical (external jugular) glands_, when present, lie along +the external jugular vein, and receives lymph from the occipital and +auricular glands and from the auricle. _The sterno-mastoid +glands_--glandulae concatinatae--form a chain along the posterior edge of +the sterno-mastoid muscle, some of them lying beneath the muscle. They +are commonly enlarged in secondary syphilis. _The superior deep cervical +(internal jugular) glands_--from six to twenty in number--form a +continuous chain along the internal jugular vein, beneath the +sterno-mastoid muscle. They drain the various groups of glands which lie +nearer the surface, also the interior of the skull, the larynx, trachea, +thyreoid, and lower part of the pharynx, and pour their lymph into the +main trunks at the root of the neck. Belonging to this group is one +large gland (the tonsillar gland) which lies behind the posterior belly +of the digastric, and rests in the angle between the internal jugular +and common facial veins. It is commonly enlarged in affections of the +tonsil and posterior part of the tongue. In the same group are three or +four glands which lie entirely under cover of the upper end of the +sterno-mastoid muscle, and surround the accessory nerve before it +perforates the muscle. The deep cervical glands are commonly infected by +tubercle and also by epithelioma secondary to disease in the tongue or +throat. _The inferior deep cervical (supra-clavicular) glands_ lie in +the posterior triangle, above the clavicle. They receive lymph from the +lowest cervical glands, from the upper part of the chest wall, and from +the highest axillary glands. They are frequently infected in cancer of +the breast; those on the left side also in cancer of the stomach. The +removal of diseased supra-clavicular glands is not to be lightly +undertaken, as difficulties are liable to ensue in connection with the +thoracic duct, the pleura, or the junction of the subclavian and +internal jugular veins. _The retro-pharyngeal glands_ lie on each side +of the median line upon the rectus capitis anticus major muscle and in +front of the pre-vertebral layer of the cervical fascia. They receive +part of the lymph from the posterior wall of the pharynx, the interior +of the nose and its accessory cavities, the auditory (Eustachian) tube, +and the tympanum. When they are infected with pyogenic organisms or +with tubercle bacilli, they may lead to the formation of one form of +retro-pharyngeal abscess. + +#Upper Extremity.#--_The epi-trochlear and cubital glands_ vary in +number, that most commonly present lying about an inch and a half above +the medial epi-condyle, and other and smaller glands may lie along the +medial (internal) bicipital groove or at the bend of the elbow. They +drain the ulnar side of the hand and forearm, and pour their lymph into +the axillary group. The epi-trochlear gland is sometimes enlarged in +syphilis. _The axillary glands_ are arranged in groups: a central group +lies embedded in the axillary fascia and fat, and is often related to an +opening in it; a posterior or subscapular group lies along the line of +the subscapular vessels; anterior or pectoral groups lie behind the +pectoralis minor, along the medial side of the axillary vein, and an +inter-pectoral group, between the two pectoral muscles. The axillary +glands receive lymph from the arm, mamma, and side of the chest, and +pass it on into the lowest cervical glands and the main lymph trunk. +They are frequently the seat of pyogenic, tuberculous, and cancerous +infection, and their complete removal is an essential part of the +operation for cancer of the breast. + +#Lower Extremity.#--_The popliteal glands_ include one superficial gland +at the termination of the small saphenous vein, and several deeper ones +in relation to the popliteal vessels. They receive lymph from the toes +and foot, and transmit it to the inguinal glands. _The femoral glands_ +lie vertically along the upper part of the great saphenous vein, and +receive lymph from the leg and foot; from them the lymph passes to the +deep inguinal and external iliac glands. The femoral glands often +participate in pyogenic infections entering through the skin of the toes +and sole of the foot. _The superficial inguinal glands_ lie along the +inguinal (Poupart's) ligament, and receive lymph from the external +genitals, anus, perineum, buttock, and anterior abdominal wall. The +lymph passes on to the deep inguinal and external iliac glands. The +superficial glands through their relations to the genitals are +frequently the subject of venereal infection, and also of epithelioma +when this disease affects the genitals or anus; they are rarely the seat +of tuberculosis. _The deep inguinal glands_ lie on the medial side of +the femoral vein, and sometimes within the femoral canal. They receive +lymph from the deep lymphatics of the lower limb, and some of the +efferent vessels from the femoral and superficial inguinal glands. The +lymph then passes on through the femoral canal to the external iliac +glands. The extension of malignant disease, whether cancer or sarcoma, +can often be traced along these deeper lymphatics into the pelvis, and +as the obstruction to the flow of lymph increases there is a +corresponding increase in the swollen dropsical condition of the lower +limb on the same side. + +The glands of the _thorax_ and _abdomen_ will be considered with the +surgery of these regions. + + +INJURIES OF LYMPH VESSELS + +Lymph vessels are divided in all wounds, and the lymph that escapes from +them is added to any discharge that may be present. In injuries of +larger trunks the lymph may escape in considerable quantity as a +colourless, watery fluid--_lymphorrhagia_; and the opening through which +it escapes is known as a _lymphatic fistula_. This has been observed +chiefly after extensive operation for the removal of malignant glands in +the groin where there already exists a considerable degree of +obstruction to the lymph stream, and in such cases the lymph, including +that which has accumulated in the vessels of the limb, may escape in +such abundance as to soak through large dressings and delay healing. +Ultimately new lymph channels are formed, so that at the end of from +four to six weeks the discharge of lymph ceases and the wound heals. + +_Lymphatic Oedema._--When the lymphatic return from a limb has been +seriously interfered with,--as, for example, when the axillary contents +has been completely cleared out in operating for cancer of the +breast,--a condition of lymphatic oedema may result, the arm becoming +swollen, tight, and heavy. + +Various degrees of the conditions are met with; in the severe forms, +there is pain, as well as incapacity of the limb. As in ordinary oedema, +the condition is relieved by elevation of the limb, but not nearly to +the same degree; in time the tissues become so hard and tense as +scarcely to pit on pressure; this is in part due to the formation of new +connective tissue and hypertrophy of the skin; in advanced cases there +is a gradual transition into one form of elephantiasis. + +Handley has devised a method of treatment--_lymphangioplasty_--the +object of which is to drain the lymph by embedding a number of silk +threads in the subcutaneous cellular tissue. + +#Wounds of the Thoracic Duct.#--The thoracic duct usually opens at the +angle formed by the junction of the left internal jugular and subclavian +veins, but it may open into either of these vessels by one or by several +channels, or the duct may be double throughout its course. There is a +smaller duct on the right side--the right lymphatic duct. The duct or +ducts may be displaced by a tumour or a mass of enlarged glands, and may +be accidentally wounded in dissections at the root of the neck; jets of +milky fluid--chyle--may at once escape from it. The jets are rhythmical +and coincide with expiration. The injury may, however, not be observed +at the time of operation, but later through the dressings being soaked +with chyle--_chylorrhoea_. If the wound involves the only existing main +duct and all the chyle escapes, the patient suffers from intense thirst, +emaciation, and weakness, and may die of inanition; but if, as is +usually the case, only one of several collateral channels is implicated, +the loss of chyle may be of little moment, as the discharge usually +ceases. If the wound heals so that the chyle is prevented from escaping, +a fluctuating swelling may form beneath the scar; in course of time it +gradually disappears. + +An attempt should be made to close the wound in the duct by means of a +fine suture; failing this, the duct must be occluded by a ligature as if +it were a bleeding artery. The tissues are then stitched over it and the +skin wound accurately closed, so as to obtain primary union, firm +pressure being applied by dressings and an elastic webbing bandage. Even +if the main duct is obliterated, a collateral circulation is usually +established. A wound of the right lymphatic duct is of less importance. + +_Subcutaneous rupture of the thoracic duct_ may result from a crush of +the thorax. The chyle escapes and accumulates in the cellular tissue of +the posterior mediastinum, behind the peritoneum, in the pleural cavity +(_chylo-thorax_), or in the peritoneal cavity (_chylous ascites_). There +are physical signs of fluid in one or other of these situations, but, as +a rule, the nature of the lesion is only recognised when chyle is +withdrawn by the exploring needle. + + +DISEASES OF LYMPH VESSELS + +#Lymphangitis.#--Inflammation of peripheral lymph vessels usually +results from some primary source of pyogenic infection in the skin. This +may be a wound or a purulent blister, and the streptococcus pyogenes is +the organism most frequently present. _Septic_ lymphangitis is commonly +met with in those who, from the nature of their occupation, handle +infective material. A _gonococcal_ form has been observed in those +suffering from gonorrhoea. + +The inflammation affects chiefly the walls of the vessels, and is +attended with clotting of the lymph. There is also some degree of +inflammation of the surrounding cellular tissue--_peri-lymphangitis_. +One or more abscesses may form along the course of the vessels, or a +spreading cellulitis may supervene. + +The _clinical features_ resemble those of other pyogenic infections, and +there are wavy red lines running from the source of infection towards +the nearest lymph glands. These correspond to the inflamed vessels, and +are the seat of burning pain and tenderness. The associated glands are +enlarged and painful. In severe cases the symptoms merge into those of +septicaemia. When the deep lymph vessels alone are involved, the +superficial red lines are absent, but the limb becomes greatly swollen +and pits on pressure. + +In cases of extensive lymphangitis, especially when there are repeated +attacks, the vessels are obliterated by the formation of new connective +tissue and a persistent solid oedema results, culminating in one form of +elephantiasis. + +_Treatment._--The primary source of infection is dealt with on the usual +lines. If the lymphangitis affects an extremity, Bier's elastic bandage +is applied, and if suppuration occurs, the pus is let out through one or +more small incisions; in other parts of the body Klapp's suction bells +are employed. An autogenous vaccine may be prepared and injected. When +the condition has subsided, the limb is massaged and evenly bandaged to +promote the disappearance of oedema. + +_Tuberculous Lymphangitis._--Although lymph vessels play an important +role in the spread of tuberculosis, the clinical recognition of the +disease in them is exceptional. The infection spreads upwards along the +superficial lymphatics, which become nodularly thickened; at one or more +points, larger, peri-lymphangitic nodules may form and break down into +abscesses and ulcers; the nearest group of glands become infected at an +early stage. When the disease is widely distributed throughout the +lymphatics of the limb, it becomes swollen and hard--a condition +illustrated by lupus elephantiasis. + +_Syphilitic lymphangitis_ is observed in cases of primary syphilis, in +which the vessels of the dorsum of the penis can be felt as indurated +cords. + +In addition to acting as channels for the conveyance of bacterial +infection, _lymph vessels frequently convey the cells of malignant +tumours_, and especially cancer, from the seat of the primary disease to +the nearest lymph glands, and they may themselves become the seat of +cancerous growth forming nodular cords. The permeation of cancer by way +of the lymphatics, described by Sampson Handley, has already been +referred to. + +#Lymphangiectasis# is a dilated or varicose condition of lymph vessels. +It is met with as a congenital affection in the tongue and lips, or it +may be acquired as the result of any condition which is attended with +extensive obliteration or blocking of the main lymph trunks. An +interesting type of lymphangiectasis is that which results from the +presence of the _filaria Bancrofti_ in the vessels, and is observed +chiefly in the groin, spermatic cord, and scrotum of persons who have +lived in the tropics. + +_Filarial disease in the lymphatics of the groin_ appears as a soft, +doughy swelling, varying in size from a walnut to a cocoa-nut; it may +partly disappear on pressure and when the patient lies down. + +The patient gives a history of feverish attacks of the nature of +lymphangitis during which the swelling becomes painful and tender. These +attacks may show a remarkable periodicity, and each may be followed by +an increase in the size of the swelling, which may extend along the +inguinal canal into the abdomen, or down the spermatic cord into the +scrotum. On dissection, the swelling is found to be made up of dilated, +tortuous, and thickened lymph vessels in which the parent worm is +sometimes found, and of greatly enlarged lymph glands which have +undergone fibrosis, with giant-cell formation and eosinophile +aggregations. The fluid in the dilated vessels is either clear or +turbid, in the latter case resembling chyle. The affection is frequently +bilateral, and may be associated with lymph scrotum, with elephantiasis, +and with chyluria. + +The _diagnosis_ is to be made from such other swellings in the groin as +hernia, lipoma, or cystic pouching of the great saphenous vein. It is +confirmed by finding the recently dead or dying worms in the inflamed +lymph glands. + +_Treatment._--When the disease is limited to the groin or scrotum, +excision may bring about a permanent cure, but it may result in the +formation of lymphatic sinuses and only afford temporary relief. + +#Lymphangioma.#--A lymphangioma is a swelling composed of a series of +cavities and channels filled with lymph and freely communicating with +one another. The cavities result either from the new formation of lymph +spaces or vessels, or from the dilatation of those which already exist; +their walls are composed of fibro-areolar tissue lined by endothelium +and strengthened by non-striped muscle. They are rarely provided with a +definite capsule, and frequently send prolongations of their substance +between and into muscles and other structures in their vicinity. They +are of congenital origin and usually make their appearance at or shortly +after birth. When the tumour is made up of a meshwork of caverns and +channels, it is called a _cavernous lymphangioma_; when it is composed +of one or more cysts, it is called a _cystic lymphangioma_. It is +probable that the cysts are derived from the caverns by breaking down +and absorption of the intervening septa, as transition forms between the +cavernous and cystic varieties are sometimes met with. + +The _cavernous lymphangioma_ appears as an ill-defined, soft swelling, +presenting many of the characters of a subcutaneous haemangioma, but it +is not capable of being emptied by pressure, it does not become tense +when the blood pressure is raised, as in crying, and if the tumour is +punctured, it yields lymph instead of blood. It also resembles a lipoma, +especially the congenital variety which grows from the periosteum, and +the differential diagnosis between these is rarely completed until the +swelling is punctured or explored by operation. If treatment is called +for, it is carried out on the same lines as for haemangioma, by means of +electrolysis, igni-puncture, or excision. Complete excision is rarely +possible because of the want of definition and encapsulation, but it is +not necessary for cure, as the parts that remain undergo cicatrisation. + +[Illustration: FIG. 76.--Congenital Cystic Tumour or Hygroma of Axilla. + +(From a photograph lent by Dr. Lediard.)] + +The _cystic lymphangioma_, _lymphatic cyst_, or _congenital cystic +hygroma_ is most often met with in the neck--_hydrocele of the neck_; it +is situated beneath the deep fascia, and projects either in front of or +behind the sterno-mastoid muscle. It may attain a large size, the +overlying skin and cyst wall may be so thin as to be translucent, and it +has been known to cause serious impairment of respiration through +pressing on the trachea. In the axilla also the cystic tumour may attain +a considerable size (Fig. 76); less frequent situations are the groin, +and the floor of the mouth, where it constitutes one form of ranula. + +The nature of these swellings is to be recognised by their situation, by +their having existed from infancy, and, if necessary, by drawing off +some of the contents of the cyst through a fine needle. They are usually +remarkably indolent, persisting often for a long term of years without +change, and, like the haemangioma, they sometimes undergo spontaneous +cicatrisation and cure. Sometimes the cystic tumour becomes infected and +forms an abscess--another, although less desirable, method of cure. +Those situated in the neck are most liable to suppurate, probably +because of pyogenic organisms being brought to them by the lymphatics +taking origin in the scalp, ear, or throat. + +If operative interference is called for, the cysts may be tapped and +injected with iodine, or excised; the operation for removal may entail a +considerable dissection amongst the deeper structures at the root of the +neck, and should not be lightly undertaken; parts left behind may be +induced to cicatrise by inserting a tube of radium and leaving it for a +few days. + +Lymphangiomas are met with in the abdomen in the form of _omental +cysts_. + + +DISEASES OF LYMPH GLANDS + +#Lymphadenitis.#--Inflammation of lymph glands results from the advent +of an irritant, usually bacterial or toxic, brought to the glands by the +afferent lymph vessels. These vessels may share in the inflammation and +be the seat of lymphangitis, or they may show no evidence of the passage +of the noxa. It is exceptional for the irritant to reach the gland +through the blood-stream. + +A strain or other form of trauma is sometimes blamed for the onset of +lymphadenitis, especially in the glands of the groin (bubo), but it is +usually possible to discover some source of pyogenic infection which is +responsible for the mischief, or to obtain a history of some antecedent +infection such as gonorrhoea. It is possible for gonococci to lie latent +in the inguinal glands for long periods, and only give rise to +lymphadenitis if the glands be subsequently subjected to injury. The +glands most frequently affected are those in the neck, axilla, and +groin. + +The characters of the lymphadenitis vary with the nature of the +irritant. Sometimes it is mild and evanescent, as in the glandular +enlargement in the neck which attends tonsillitis and other forms of +sore throat. Sometimes it is more persistent, as in the enlargement +that is associated with adenoids, hypertrophied tonsils, carious teeth, +eczema of the scalp, and otorrhoea; and it is possible that this indolent +enlargement predisposes to tuberculous infection. A similar enlargement +is met with in the axilla in cases of chronic interstitial mastitis, and +in the groin as a result of chronic irritation about the external +genitals, such as balanitis. + +Sometimes the lymphadenitis is of an acute character, and the tendency +is towards the formation of an abscess. This is illustrated in the +axillary glands as a result of infected wounds of the fingers; in the +femoral glands in infected wounds or purulent blisters on the foot; in +the inguinal glands in gonorrhoea and soft sore; and in the cervical +glands in the severer forms of sore throat associated with diphtheria +and scarlet fever. The most acute suppurations result from infection +with streptococci. + +Superficial glands, when inflamed and suppurating, become enlarged, +tender, fixed, and matted to one another. In the glands of the groin the +suppurative process is often remarkably sluggish; purulent foci form in +the interior of individual glands, and some time may elapse before the +pus erupts through their respective capsules. In the deeply placed +cervical glands, especially in cases of streptococcal throat infections, +the suppuration rapidly involves the surrounding cellular tissue, and +the clinical features are those of an acute cellulitis and deeply seated +abscess. When this is incised the necrosed glands may be found lying in +the pus, and on bacteriological examination are found to be swarming +with streptococci. In suppuration of the axillary glands the abscess may +be quite superficial, or it may be deeply placed beneath the strong +fascia and pectoral muscles, according to the group of glands involved. + +The _diagnosis_ of septic lymphadenitis is usually easy. The indolent +enlargements are not always to be distinguished, however, from +commencing tuberculous disease, except by the use of the tuberculin +test, and by the fact that they usually disappear on removing the +peripheral source of irritation. + +_Treatment._--The first indication is to discover and deal with the +source of infection, and in the indolent forms of lymphadenitis this +will usually be followed by recovery. In the acute forms following on +pyogenic infection, the best results are obtained from the hyperaemic +treatment carried out by means of suction bells. If suppuration is not +thereby prevented, or if it has already taken place, each separate +collection of pus is punctured with a narrow-bladed knife and the use of +the suction bell is persevered with. If there is a large periglandular +abscess, as is often the case, in the neck and axilla, the opening may +require to be made by Hilton's method, and it may be necessary to insert +a drainage-tube. + +[Illustration: FIG. 77.--Tuberculous Cervical Gland with abscess +formation in subcutaneous cellular tissue, in a boy aet. 10.] + +#Tuberculous Disease of Glands.#--This is a disease of great frequency +and importance. The tubercle bacilli usually gain access to the gland +through the afferent lymph vessels, which convey them from some lesion +of the surface within the area drained by them. Tuberculous infection +may supervene in glands that are already enlarged as a result of chronic +septic irritation. While any of the glands in the body may be affected, +the disease is most often met with in the cervical groups which derive +their lymph from the mouth, nose, throat, and ear. + +_The appearance of the glands on section_ varies with the stage of the +disease. In the early stages the gland is enlarged, it may be to many +times its natural size, is normal in appearance and consistence, and as +there is no peri-adenitis it is easily shelled out from its +surroundings. On microscopical examination, however, there is evidence +of infection in the shape of bacilli and of characteristic giant and +epithelioid cells. At a later stage, the gland tissue is studded with +minute yellow foci which tend to enlarge and in time to become +confluent, so that the whole gland is ultimately converted into a +caseous mass. This caseous material is surrounded by the thickened +capsule which, as a result of peri-adenitis, tends to become adherent to +and fused with surrounding structures, and particularly with layers of +fascia and with the walls of veins. The caseated tissue often remains +unchanged for long periods; it may become calcified, but more frequently +it breaks down and liquefies. + +#Tuberculous disease in the cervical glands# is a common accompaniment +or sequel of adenoids, enlarged tonsils, carious teeth, pharyngitis, +middle-ear disease, and conjunctivitis. These lesions afford the bacilli +a chance of entry into the lymph vessels, in which they are carried to +the glands, where they give rise to disease. + +The enlargement may affect only one gland, usually below the angle of +the mandible, and remain confined to it, the gland reaching the size of +a hazel-nut, and being ovoid, firm, and painless. More commonly the +disease affects several glands, on one or on both sides of the neck. +When the disease commences in the pre-auricular or submaxillary glands, +it tends to spread to those along the carotid sheath: when the posterior +auricular and occipital glands are first involved, the spread is to +those along the posterior border of the sterno-mastoid. In many cases +all the chains in front of, beneath, and behind this muscle are +involved, the enlarged glands extending from the mastoid to the +clavicle. They are at first discrete and movable, and may even vary in +size from time to time; but with the addition of peri-adenitis they +become fixed and matted together, forming lobulated or nodular masses +(Fig. 78). They become adherent not only to one another, but also to the +structures in their vicinity,--and notably to the internal jugular +vein,--a point of importance in regard to their removal by operation. + +At any stage the disease may be arrested and the glands remain for long +periods without further change. It is possible that the tuberculous +tissue may undergo cicatrisation. More commonly suppuration ensues, and +a cold abscess forms, but if there is a mixed infection, the pyogenic +factor being usually derived from the throat, it may take on active +features. + +[Illustration: FIG. 78.--Mass of Tuberculous Glands removed from Axilla +(cf. Fig. 79).] + +The transition from the solid to the liquefied stage is attended with +pain and tenderness in the gland, which at the same time becomes fixed +and globular, and finally fluctuation can be elicited. + +If left to itself, the softened tubercle erupts through the capsule of +the gland and infects the cellular tissue. The cervical fascia is +perforated and a cold abscess, often much larger than the gland from +which it took origin, forms between the fascia and the overlying skin. +The further stages--reddening, undermining of skin and external rupture, +with the formation of ulcers and sinuses--have been described with +tuberculous abscess. The ulcers and sinuses persist indefinitely, or +they heal and then break out again; sometimes the skin becomes infected, +and a condition like lupus spreads over a considerable area. Spontaneous +healing finally takes place after the caseous tubercle has been +extruded; the resulting scars are extremely unsightly, being puckered or +bridled, or hypertrophied like keloid. + +While the disease is most common in childhood and youth, it may be met +with even in advanced life; and although often associated with impaired +health and unhealthy surroundings, it may affect those who are +apparently robust and are in affluent circumstances. + +_Diagnosis._--The chief importance lies in differentiating tuberculous +disease from lympho-sarcoma and from lymphadenoma, and this is usually +possible from the history and from the nature of the enlargement. Signs +of liquefaction and suppuration support the diagnosis of tubercle. If +any doubt remains, one of the glands should be removed and submitted to +microscopical examination. Other forms of sarcoma, and the enlargement +of an accessory thyreoid, are less likely to be confused with +tuberculous glands. Calcified tuberculous glands give definite shadows +with the X-rays. + +Enlargement of the cervical glands from secondary cancer may simulate +tuberculosis, but is differentiated by its association with cancer in +the mouth or throat, and by the characteristic, stone-like induration of +epithelioma. + +The cold abscess which results from tuberculous glands is to be +distinguished from that due to disease in the cervical spine, +retro-pharyngeal abscess, as well as from congenital and other cystic +swellings in the neck. + +_Prognosis._--Next to lupus, glandular disease is of all tuberculous +lesions the least dangerous to life; but while it is the rule to recover +from tuberculous disease of glands with or without an operation, it is +unfortunately quite common for such persons to become the subjects of +tuberculosis in other parts of the body at any subsequent period of +life. + +_Treatment._--There is considerable difference of opinion regarding the +treatment of glandular tuberculosis. Some authorities, impressed with +the undoubted possibility of natural cure, are satisfied with promoting +this by measures directed towards improving the general health, by the +prolonged administration of tuberculin, and by repeated exposures to the +X-rays and to sunlight. Others again, influenced by the risk of +extension of the disease and by the destruction of tissue and +disfigurement caused by breaking down of the tuberculous tissue and +mixed infection, advocate the removal of the glands by operation. + +The conditions vary widely in different cases, and the treatment should +be adapted to the individual requirements. If the disease remains +confined to the glands originally infected and there are no signs of +breaking down, "expectant measures" may be persevered with. + +[Illustration: FIG. 79.--Tuberculous Axillary Glands (cf. Fig. 78).] + +If, on the other hand, the disease exhibits aggressive tendencies, the +question of operation should be considered. The undesirable results of +the breaking down and liquefaction of the diseased gland may be avoided +by the timely withdrawal of the fluid contents through a hollow needle. + +_The excision of tuberculous glands_ is often a difficult operation, +because of the number and deep situation of the glands to be removed, +and of the adhesions to surrounding structures. The skin incision must +be sufficiently extensive to give access to the whole of the affected +area, and to avoid disfigurement should, whenever possible, be made in +the line of the natural creases of the skin. In exposing the glands the +common facial and other venous trunks may require to be clamped and +tied. Care must be taken not to injure the important nerves, +particularly the accessory, the vagus, and the phrenic. The +inframaxillary branches of the facial, the hypoglossal and its +descending branches, and the motor branches of the deep cervical plexus, +are also liable to be injured. The dissection is rendered easier and is +attended with less risk of injury to the nerves, if the patient is +placed in the sitting posture so as to empty the veins, and, instead of +a knife, the conical scissors of Mayo are employed. When the glands are +extensively affected on both sides of the neck, it is advisable to allow +an interval to elapse rather than to operate on both sides at one +sitting. (_Op. Surg._, p. 189.) + +If the tonsils are enlarged they should not be removed at the same time, +as, by so doing, there is a risk of pyogenic infection from the throat +being carried to the wound in the neck, but they should be removed, +after an interval, to prevent relapse of disease in the glands. + +_When the skin is broken_ and caseous tuberculous tissue is exposed, +healing is promoted by cutting away diseased skin, removing the +granulation tissue with the spoon, scraping sinuses, and packing the +cavity with iodoform worsted and treating it by the open method and +secondary suture if necessary. Exposure to the sunshine on the seashore +and to the X-rays is often beneficial in these cases. + +#Tuberculous disease in the axillary glands# may be a result of +extension from those in the neck, from the mamma, ribs, or sternum, or +more rarely from the upper extremity. We have seen it from an infected +wound of a finger. In some cases no source of infection is discoverable. +The individual glands attain a considerable size, and they fuse together +to form a large tumour which fills up the axillary space. The disease +progresses more rapidly than it does in the cervical glands, and almost +always goes on to suppuration with the formation of sinuses. +Conservative measures need not be considered, as the only satisfactory +treatment is excision, and that without delay. + +#Tuberculous disease in the glands of the groin# is comparatively rare. +We have chiefly observed it in the femoral glands as a result of +inoculation tubercle on the toes or sole of the foot. The affected +glands nearly always break down and suppurate, and after destroying the +overlying skin give rise to fungating ulcers. The treatment consists in +excising the glands and the affected skin. The dissection may be +attended with troublesome haemorrhage from the numerous veins that +converge towards the femoral trunk. + +Tuberculous disease in the _mesenteric_ and _bronchial glands_ is +described with the surgery of regions. + +#Syphilitic Disease of Glands.#--Enlargement of lymph glands is a +prominent feature of acquired syphilis, especially in the form of the +indolent or bullet-bubo which accompanies the primary lesion, and the +general enlargement of glands that occurs in secondary syphilis. +Gummatous disease in glands is extremely rare; the affected gland +rapidly enlarges to the size of a walnut, and may then persist for a +long period without further change; if it breaks down, the overlying +skin is destroyed and the caseated tissue of the gumma exposed. + +#Lymphadenoma.#--_Hodgkin's Disease_ (Pseudo-leukaemia of German +authors).--This is a rare disease, the origin of which is as yet +unknown, but analogy would suggest that it is due to infection with a +slowly growing micro-organism. It is chiefly met with in young subjects, +and is characterised by a painless enlargement of a particular group of +glands, most commonly those in the cervical region (Fig. 80). + +[Illustration: FIG. 80.--Chronic Hodgkin's Disease in a boy aet. 11.] + +The glands are usually larger than in tuberculosis, and they remain +longer discrete and movable; they are firm in consistence, and on +section present a granular appearance due to overgrowth of the +connective-tissue framework. In time the glandular masses may form +enormous projecting tumours, the swelling being added to by lymphatic +oedema of the overlying cellular tissue and skin. + +The enlargement spreads along the chain of glands to those above the +clavicle, to those in the axilla, and to those of the opposite side +(Fig. 81). Later, the glands in the groin become enlarged, and it is +probable that the infection has spread from the neck along the +mediastinal, bronchial, retro-peritoneal, and mesenteric glands, and has +branched off to the iliac and inguinal groups. + +Two clinical types are recognised, one in which the disease progresses +slowly and remains confined to the cervical glands for two or more +years; the other, in which the disease is more rapidly disseminated and +causes death in from twelve to eighteen months. + +[Illustration: FIG. 81.--Lymphadenoma (Hodgkin's Disease) affecting left +side of neck and left axilla, in a woman aet. 44. Three years' duration.] + +In the acute form, the health suffers, there is fever, and the glands +may vary in size with variations in the temperature; the blood presents +the characters met with in secondary anaemia. The spleen, liver, testes, +and mammae may be enlarged; the glandular swellings press on important +structures, such as the trachea, oesophagus, or great veins, and symptoms +referable to such pressure manifest themselves. + +_Diagnosis._--Considerable difficulty attends the diagnosis of +lymphadenoma at an early stage. The negative results of tuberculin tests +may assist in the differentiation from tuberculous disease, but the more +certain means of excising one of the suspected glands and submitting it +to microscopical examination should be had recourse to. The sections +show proliferation of endothelial cells, the formation of numerous giant +cells quite unlike those of tuberculosis and a progressive fibrosis. +Lympho-sarcoma can usually be differentiated by the rapid assumption of +the local features of malignant disease, and in a gland removed for +examination, a predominance of small round cells with scanty protoplasm. +The enlargement associated with leucocythaemia is differentiated by the +characteristic changes in the blood. + +_Treatment._--In the acute form of lymphadenoma, treatment is of little +avail. Arsenic may be given in full doses either by the mouth or by +subcutaneous injection; the intravenous administration of neo-salvarsan +may be tried. Exposure to the X-rays and to radium has been more +successful than any other form of treatment. Excision of glands, +although sometimes beneficial, seldom arrests the progress of the +disease. The ease and rapidity with which large masses of glands may be +shelled out is in remarkable contrast to what is observed in tuberculous +disease. Surgical interference may give relief when important structures +are being pressed upon--tracheotomy, for example, may be required where +life is threatened by asphyxia. + +#Leucocythaemia.#--This is a disease of the blood and of the +blood-forming organs, in which there is a great increase in the number, +and an alteration of the character, of the leucocytes present in the +blood. It may simulate lymphadenoma, because, in certain forms of the +disease, the lymph glands, especially those in the neck, axilla, and +groin, are greatly enlarged. + + +TUMOURS OF LYMPH GLANDS + +#Primary Tumours.#--_Lympho-sarcoma_, which may be regarded as a sarcoma +starting in a lymph gland, appears in the neck, axilla, or groin as a +rapidly growing tumour consisting of one enlarged gland with numerous +satellites. As the tumour increases in size, the sarcomatous tissue +erupts through the capsule of the gland, and infiltrates the surrounding +tissues, whereby it becomes fixed to these and to the skin. + +[Illustration: FIG. 82.--Lympho-Sarcoma removed from Groin. It will be +observed that there is one large central parent tumour surrounded by +satellites.] + +The prognosis is grave in the extreme, and the only hope is in early +excision, followed by the use of radium and X-rays. We have observed a +case of lympho-sarcoma above the clavicle, in which excision of all that +was removable, followed by the insertion of a tube of radium for ten +days, was followed by a disappearance of the disease over a period which +extended to nearly five years, when death resulted from a tumour in the +mediastinum. In a second case in which the growth was in the groin, the +patient, a young man, remained well for over two years and was then lost +sight of. + +#Secondary Tumours.#--Next to tuberculosis, _secondary cancer_ is the +most common disease of lymph glands. In the neck it is met with in +association with epithelioma of the lip, tongue, or fauces. The glands +form tumours of variable size, and are often larger than the primary +growth, the characters of which they reproduce. The glands are at first +movable, but soon become fixed both to each other and to their +surroundings; when fixed to the mandible they form a swelling of +bone-like hardness; in time they soften, liquefy, and burst through the +skin, forming foul, fungating ulcers. A similar condition is met with in +the groin from epithelioma of the penis, scrotum, or vulva. In cancer of +the breast, the infection of the axillary glands is an important +complication. + +In _pigmented_ or _melanotic cancers_ of the skin, the glands are early +infected and increase rapidly, so that, when the primary growth is still +of small size--as, for example, on the sole of the foot--the femoral +glands may already constitute large pigmented tumours. + +[Illustration: FIG. 83.--Cancerous Glands in Neck secondary to +Epithelioma of Lip. + +(Mr. G. L. Chiene's case.)] + +The implication of the glands in other forms of cancer will be +considered with regional surgery. + +_Secondary sarcoma_ is seldom met with in the lymph glands except when +the primary growth is a lympho-sarcoma and is situated in the tonsil, +thyreoid, or testicle. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE NERVES + + +Anatomy--INJURIES OF NERVES: Changes in nerves after division; + Repair and its modifications; Clinical features; _Primary and + secondary suture_--SUBCUTANEOUS INJURIES OF + NERVES--DISEASES: _Neuritis_; _Tumours_--Surgery of + the individual nerves: _Brachial neuralgia_; _Sciatica_; + _Trigeminal neuralgia_. + +#Anatomy.#--A nerve-trunk is made up of a variable number of bundles of +nerve fibres surrounded and supported by a framework of connective +tissue. The nerve fibres are chiefly of the medullated type, and they +run without interruption from a nerve cell or _neuron_ in the brain or +spinal medulla to their peripheral terminations in muscle, skin, and +secretory glands. + +Each nerve fibre consists of a number of nerve fibrils collected into a +central bundle--the axis cylinder--which is surrounded by an envelope, +the neurolemma or sheath of Schwann. Between the neurolemma and the axis +cylinder is the medullated sheath, composed of a fatty substance known +as myelin. This medullated sheath is interrupted at the nodes of +Ranvier, and in each internode is a nucleus lying between the myelin and +the neurolemma. The axis cylinder is the essential conducting structure +of the nerve, while the neurolemma and the myelin act as insulating +agents. The axis cylinder depends for its nutrition on the central +neuron with which it is connected, and from which it originally +developed, and it degenerates if it is separated from its neuron. + +The connective-tissue framework of a nerve-trunk consists of the +_perineurium_, or general sheath, which surrounds all the bundles; the +_epineurium_, surrounding individual groups of bundles; and the +_endoneurium_, a delicate connective tissue separating the individual +nerve fibres. The blood vessels and lymphatics run in these +connective-tissue sheaths. + +According to Head and his co-workers, Sherren and Rivers, the afferent +fibres in the peripheral nerves can be divided into three systems:-- + +1. Those which subserve _deep sensibility_ and conduct the impulses +produced by pressure as well as those which enable the patient to +recognise the position of a joint on passive movement (joint-sensation), +and the kinaesthetic sense, which recognises that active contraction of +the muscle is taking place (active muscle-sensation). The fibres of this +system run with the motor nerves, and pass to muscles, tendons, and +joints. Even division of both the ulnar and the median nerves above the +wrist produces little loss of deep sensibility, unless the tendons are +also cut through. The failure to recognise this form of sensibility has +been largely responsible for the conflicting statements as to the +sensory phenomena following operations for the repair of divided nerves. + +2. Those which subserve _protopathic_ sensibility--that is, are capable +of responding to painful cutaneous stimuli and to the extremes of heat +and cold. These also endow the hairs with sensibility to pain. They are +the first to regenerate after division. + +3. Those which subserve _epicritic_ sensibility, the most highly +specialised, capable of appreciating light touch, _e.g._ with a wisp of +cotton wool, as a well-localised sensation, and the finer grades of +temperature, called cool and warm (72-104 F.), and of discriminating +as separate the points of a pair of compasses 2 cms. apart. These are +the last to regenerate. + +A nerve also exerts a trophic influence on the tissues in which it is +distributed. + +The researches of Stoffel on the minute anatomy of the larger nerves, +and the disposition in them of the bundles of nerve fibres supplying +different groups of muscles, have opened up what promises to be a +fruitful field of clinical investigation and therapeutics. He has shown +that in the larger nerve-trunks the nerve bundles for special groups of +muscles are not, as was formerly supposed, arranged irregularly and +fortuitously, but that on the contrary the nerve fibres to a particular +group of muscles have a typical and practically constant position within +the nerve. + +In the large nerve-trunks of the limbs he has worked out the exact +position of the bundles for the various groups of muscles, so that in a +cross section of a particular nerve the component bundles can be +labelled as confidently and accurately as can be the cortical areas in +the brain. In the living subject, by using a fine needle-like electrode +and a very weak galvanic current, he has been able to differentiate the +nerve bundles for the various groups of muscles. In several cases of +spastic paralysis he succeeded in picking out in the nerve-trunk of the +affected limb the nerve bundles supplying the spastic muscles, and, by +resecting portions of them, in relieving the spasm. In a case of spastic +contracture of the pronator muscles of the forearm, for example, an +incision is made along the line of the median nerve above the bend of +the elbow. At the lateral side of the median nerve, where it lies in +contact with the biceps muscle, is situated a well-defined and easily +isolated bundle of fibres which supplies the pronator teres, the flexor +carpi radialis, and the palmaris longus muscles. On incising the sheath +of the nerve this bundle can be readily dissected up and its identity +confirmed by stimulating it with a very weak galvanic current. An inch +or more of the bundle is then resected. + + +INJURIES OF NERVES + +Nerves are liable to be cut or torn across, bruised, compressed, +stretched, or torn away from their connections with the spinal medulla. + +#Complete Division of a Mixed Nerve.#--Complete division is a common +result of accidental wounds, especially above the wrist, where the +ulnar, median, and radial nerves are frequently cut across, and in +gun-shot injuries. + +_Changes in Structure and Function._--The mere interruption of the +continuity of a nerve results in degeneration of its fibres, the myelin +being broken up into droplets and absorbed, while the axis cylinders +swell up, disintegrate, and finally disappear. Both the conducting and +the insulating elements are thus lost. The degeneration in the central +end of the divided nerve is usually limited to the immediate proximity +of the lesion, and does not even involve all the nerve fibres. In the +distal end, it extends throughout the entire peripheral distribution of +the nerve, and appears to be due to the cutting off of the fibres from +their trophic nerve cells in the spinal medulla. Immediate suturing of +the ends does not affect the degeneration of the distal segment. The +peripheral end undergoes complete degeneration in from six weeks to two +months. + +The physiological effects of complete division are that the muscles +supplied by the nerve are immediately paralysed, the area to which it +furnishes the sole cutaneous supply becomes insensitive, and the other +structures, including tendons, bones, and joints, lose sensation, and +begin to atrophy from loss of the trophic influence. + +#Nerves divided in Amputation.#--In the case of nerves divided in an +amputation, there is an active, although necessarily abortive, attempt +at regeneration, which results in the formation of bulbous swellings at +the cut ends of the nerves. When there has been suppuration, and +especially if the nerves have been cut so as to be exposed in the wound, +these bulbous swellings may attain an abnormal size, and are then known +as "amputation" or "stump neuromas" (Fig. 84). + +When the nerves in a stump have not been cut sufficiently short, they +may become involved in the cicatrix, and it may be necessary, on account +of pain, to free them from their adhesions, and to resect enough of the +terminal portions to prevent them again becoming adherent. When this is +difficult, a portion may be resected from each of the nerve-trunks at a +higher level; and if this fails to give relief, a fresh amputation may +be performed. When there is agonising pain dependent upon an ascending +neuritis, it may be necessary to resect the corresponding posterior +nerve roots within the vertebral canal. + +[Illustration: FIG. 84.--Stump Neuromas of Sciatic Nerve, excised forty +years after the original amputation by Mr. A. G. Miller.] + +#Other Injuries of Nerves.#--_Contusion_ of a nerve-trunk is attended +with extravasation of blood into the connective-tissue sheaths, and is +followed by degeneration of the contused nerve fibres. Function is +usually restored, the conducting paths being re-established by the +formation of new nerve fibres. + +When a nerve is _torn across_ or badly _crushed_--as, for example, by a +fractured bone--the changes are similar to those in a divided nerve, and +the ultimate result depends on the amount of separation between the ends +and the possibility of the young axis cylinders bridging the gap. + +_Involvement of Nerves in Scar Tissue._--Pressure or traction may be +exerted upon a nerve by contracting scar tissue, or a process of +neuritis or perineuritis may be induced. + +When terminal filaments are involved in a scar, it is best to dissect +out the scar, and along with it the ends of the nerves pressed upon. +When a nerve-trunk, such as the sciatic, is involved in cicatricial +tissue, the nerve must be exposed and freed from its surroundings +(_neurolysis_), and then stretched so as to tear any adhesions that may +be present above or below the part exposed. It may be advisable to +displace the liberated nerve from its original position so as to +minimise the risk of its incorporation in the scar of the original wound +or in that resulting from the operation--for example, the radial nerve +may be buried in the substance of the triceps, or it may be surrounded +by a segment of vein or portion of fat-bearing fascia. + +_Injuries of nerves resulting from_ #gun-shot wounds# include: (1) those +in which the nerve is directly damaged by the bullet, and (2) those in +which the nerve-trunk is involved secondarily either by scar tissue in +its vicinity or by callus following fracture of an adjacent bone. The +primary injuries include contusion, partial or complete division, and +perforation of the nerve-trunk. One of the most constant symptoms is the +early occurrence of severe neuralgic pain, and this is usually +associated with marked hyperaesthesia. + +#Regeneration.#--_Process of Repair when the Ends are in Contact._--_If +the wound is aseptic_, and the ends of the divided nerve are sutured or +remain in contact, they become united, and the conducting paths are +re-established by a regeneration of nerve fibres. There is a difference +of opinion as to the method of regeneration. The Wallerian doctrine is +that the axis cylinders in the central end grow downwards, and enter the +nerve sheaths of the distal portion, and continue growing until they +reach the peripheral terminations in muscle and skin, and in course of +time acquire a myelin sheath; the cells of the neurolemma multiply and +form long chains in both ends of the nerve, and are believed to provide +for the nourishment and support of the actively lengthening axis +cylinders. Another view is that the formation of new axis cylinders is +not confined to the central end, but that it goes on also in the +peripheral segment, in which, however, the new axis cylinders do not +attain maturity until continuity with the central end has been +re-established. + +_If the wound becomes infected_ and suppuration occurs, the young nerve +fibres are destroyed and efficient regeneration is prevented; the +formation of scar tissue also may constitute a permanent obstacle to new +nerve fibres bridging the gap. + +_When the ends are not in contact_, reunion of the divided nerve fibres +does not take place whether the wound is infected or not. At the +proximal end there forms a bulbous swelling, which becomes adherent to +the scar tissue. It consists of branching axis cylinders running in all +directions, these having failed to reach the distal end because of the +extent of the gap. The peripheral end is completely degenerated, and is +represented by a fibrous cord, the cut end of which is often slightly +swollen or bulbous, and is also incorporated with the scar tissue of +the wound. + +#Clinical Features.#--The symptoms resulting from division and non-union +of a nerve-trunk necessarily vary with the functions of the affected +nerve. The following description refers to a mixed sensori-motor trunk, +such as the median or radial (musculo-spiral) nerve. + +_Sensory Phenomena._--Superficial touch is tested by means of a wisp of +cotton wool stroked gently across the skin; the capacity of +discriminating two points as separate, by a pair of blunt-pointed +compasses; the sensation of pressure, by means of a pencil or other +blunt object; of pain, by pricking or scratching with a needle; and of +sensibility to heat and cold, by test-tubes containing water at +different temperatures. While these tests are being carried out, the +patient's eyes are screened off. + +After division of a nerve containing sensory fibres, there is an area of +absolute cutaneous insensibility to touch (anaesthesia), to pain +(analgesia), and to all degrees of temperature--_loss of protopathic +sensibility_; surrounded by an area in which there is loss of sensation +to light touch, inability to recognise minor differences of temperature +(72-104 F.), and to appreciate as separate impressions the contact of +the two points of a compass--_loss of epicritic sensibility_ (Head and +Sherren) (Figs. 91, 92). + +_Motor Phenomena._--There is immediate and complete loss of voluntary +power in the muscles supplied by the divided nerve. The muscles rapidly +waste, and within from three to five days, they cease to react to the +faradic current. When tested with the galvanic current, it is found that +a stronger current must be used to call forth contraction than in a +healthy muscle, and the contraction appears first at the closing of the +circuit when the anode is used as the testing electrode. The loss of +excitability to the interrupted current, and the specific alteration in +the type of contraction with the constant current, is known as the +_reaction of degeneration_. After a few weeks all electric excitability +is lost. The paralysed muscles undergo fatty degeneration, which attains +its maximum three or four months after the division of the nerve. +Further changes may take place, and result in the transformation of the +muscle into fibrous tissue, which by undergoing shortening may cause +deformity known as _paralytic contracture_. + +_Vaso-motor Phenomena._--In the majority of cases there is an initial +rise in the temperature of the part (2 to 3 F.), with redness and +increased vascularity. This is followed by a fall in the local +temperature, which may amount to 8 or 10 F., the parts becoming pale +and cold. Sometimes the hyperaemia resulting from vaso-motor paralysis is +more persistent, and is associated with swelling of the parts from +oedema--the so-called _angio-neurotic oedema_. The vascularity varies with +external influences, and in cold weather the parts present a bluish +appearance. + +_Trophic Phenomena._--Owing to the disappearance of the subcutaneous +fat, the skin is smooth and thin, and may be abnormally dry. The hair is +harsh, dry, and easily shed. The nails become brittle and furrowed, or +thick and curved, and the ends of the fingers become club-shaped. Skin +eruptions, especially in the form of blisters, occur, or there may be +actual ulcers of the skin, especially in winter. In aggravated cases the +tips of the fingers disappear from progressive ulceration, and in the +sole of the foot a perforating ulcer may develop. Arthropathies are +occasionally met with, the joints becoming the seat of a painless +effusion or hydrops, which is followed by fibrous thickening of the +capsular and other ligaments, and terminates in stiffness and fibrous +ankylosis. In this way the fingers are seriously crippled and deformed. + +#Treatment of Divided Nerves.#--The treatment consists in approximating +the divided ends of the nerve and placing them under the most favourable +conditions for repair, and this should be done at the earliest possible +opportunity. (_Op. Surg._, pp. 45, 46.) + +#Primary Suture.#--The reunion of a recently divided nerve is spoken of +as primary suture, and for its success asepsis is essential. As the +suturing of the ends of the nerve is extremely painful, an anaesthetic is +required. + +When the wound is healed and while waiting for the restoration of +function, measures are employed to maintain the nutrition of the damaged +nerve and of the parts supplied by it. The limb is exercised, massaged, +and douched, and protected from cold and other injurious influences. The +nutrition of the paralysed muscles is further improved by electricity. +The galvanic current is employed, using at first a mild current of not +more than 5 milliamperes for about ten minutes, the current being made +to flow downwards in the course of the nerve, with the positive +electrode applied to the spine, and the negative over the affected nerve +near its termination. It is an advantage to have a metronome in the +circuit whereby the current is opened and closed automatically at +intervals, so as to cause contraction of the muscles. + +_The results_ of primary suture, when it has been performed under +favourable conditions, are usually satisfactory. In a series of cases +investigated by Head and Sherren, the period between the operation and +the first return of sensation averaged 65 days. According to Purves +Stewart protopathic sensation commences to appear in about six weeks and +is completely restored in six months; electric sensation and motor power +reappear together in about six months, and restoration is complete in a +year. When sensation returns, the area of insensibility to pain steadily +diminishes and disappears; sensibility to extremes of temperature +appears soon after; and last of all, after a considerable interval, +there is simultaneous return of appreciation of light touch, moderate +degrees of temperature, and the points of a compass. + +A clinical means of estimating how regeneration in a divided nerve is +progressing has been described by Tinel. He found that a tingling +sensation, similar to that experienced in the foot, when it is +recovering from the "sleeping" condition induced by prolonged pressure +on the sciatic nerve from sitting on a hard bench, can be elicited on +percussing over _growing_ axis cylinders. Tapping over the proximal end +of a _newly divided nerve_, _e.g._ the common peroneal behind the head +of the fibula, produces no tingling, but when in about three weeks +axis cylinders begin to grow in the proximal end-bulb, local tingling is +induced by tapping there. The downward growth of the axis cylinders can +be traced by tapping over the distal segment of the nerve, the tingling +sensation being elicited as far down as the young axis cylinders have +reached. When the regeneration of the axis cylinders is complete, +tapping no longer causes tingling. It usually takes about one hundred +days for this stage to be reached. + +Tinel's sign is present before voluntary movement, muscular tone, or the +normal electrical reactions reappear. + +In cases of complete nerve paralysis that have not been operated upon, +the tingling test is helpful in determining whether or not regeneration +is taking place. Its detection may prevent an unnecessary operation +being performed. + +Primary suture should not be attempted so long as the wound shows signs +of infection, as it is almost certain to end in failure. The ends should +be sutured, however, as soon as the wound is aseptic or has healed. + +#Secondary Suture.#--The term secondary suture is applied to the +operation of stitching the ends of the divided nerve after the wound has +healed. + +_Results of Secondary Suture._--When secondary suture has been performed +under favourable conditions, the prognosis is good, but a longer time is +required for restoration of function than after primary suture. Purves +Stewart says protopathic sensation is sometimes observed much earlier +than in primary suture, because partial regeneration of axis cylinders +in the peripheral segment has already taken place. Sensation is +recovered first, but it seldom returns before three or four months. +There then follows an improvement or disappearance of any trophic +disturbances that may be present. Recovery of motion may be deferred for +long periods--rather because of the changes in the muscles than from +want of conductivity in the nerve--and if the muscles have undergone +complete degeneration, it may never take place at all. While waiting for +recovery, every effort should be made to maintain the nutrition of the +damaged nerve, and of the parts which it supplies. + +When suture is found to be impossible, recourse must be had to other +methods, known as nerve bridging and nerve implantation. + +#Incomplete Division of a Mixed Nerve.#--The effects of partial division +of a mixed nerve vary according to the destination of the nerve bundles +that have been interrupted. Within their area of distribution the +paralysis is as complete as if the whole trunk had been cut across. The +uninjured nerve-bundles continue to transmit impulses with the result +that there is a _dissociated paralysis_ within the distribution of the +affected nerve, some muscles continuing to act and to respond normally +to electric stimulation, while others behave as if the whole nerve-trunk +had been severed. + +In addition to vasomotor and trophic changes, there is often severe pain +of a burning kind (_causalgia_ or _thermalgia_) which comes on about a +fortnight after the injury and causes intense and continuous suffering +which may last for months. Paroxysms of pain may be excited by the +slightest touch or by heat, and the patient usually learns for himself +that the constant application of cold wet cloths allays the pain. The +thermalgic area sweats profusely. + +Operative treatment is indicated where there is no sign of improvement +within three months, when recovery is arrested before complete +restoration of function is attained, or when thermalgic pain is +excessive. + +#Subcutaneous Injuries of Nerves.#--Several varieties of subcutaneous +injuries of nerves are met with. One of the best known is the +compression paralysis of the nerves of the upper arm which results from +sleeping with the arm resting on the back of a chair or the edge of a +table--the so-called "drunkard's palsy"; and from the pressure of a +crutch in the axilla--"crutch paralysis." In some of these injuries, +notably "drunkard's palsy," the disability appears to be due not to +damage of the nerve, but to overstretching of the extensors of the wrist +and fingers (Jones). A similar form of paralysis is sometimes met with +from the pressure of a tourniquet, from tight bandages or splints, from +the pressure exerted by a dislocated bone or by excessive callus, and +from hyper-extension of the arm during anaesthesia. + +In all these forms there is impaired sensation, rarely amounting to +anaesthesia, marked muscular wasting, and diminution or loss of voluntary +motor power, while--and this is a point of great importance--the normal +electrical reactions are preserved. There may also develop trophic +changes such as blisters, superficial ulcers, and clubbing of the tips +of the fingers. The prognosis is usually favourable, as recovery is the +rule within from one to three months. If, however, neuritis supervenes, +the electrical reactions are altered, the muscles degenerate, and +recovery may be retarded or may fail to take place. + +Injuries which act abruptly or instantaneously are illustrated in the +crushing of a nerve by the sudden displacement of a sharp-edged fragment +of bone, as may occur in comminuted fractures of the humerus. The +symptoms include perversion or loss of sensation, motor paralysis, and +atrophy of muscles, which show the reaction of degeneration from the +eighth day onwards. The presence of the reaction of degeneration +influences both the prognosis and the treatment, for it implies a lesion +which is probably incapable of spontaneous recovery, and which can only +be remedied by operation. + +The _treatment_ varies with the cause and nature of the lesion. When, +for example, a displaced bone or a mass of callus is pressing upon the +nerve, steps must be taken to relieve the pressure, by operation if +necessary. When there is reason to believe that the nerve is severely +crushed or torn across, it should be exposed by incision, and, after +removal of the damaged ends, should be united by sutures. When it is +impossible to make a definite diagnosis as to the state of the nerve, it +is better to expose it by operation, and thus learn the exact state of +affairs without delay; in the event of the nerve being torn, the ends +should be united by sutures. + +#Dislocation of Nerves.#--This injury, which resembles the dislocation +of tendons from their grooves, is seldom met with except in the ulnar +nerve at the elbow, and is described with injuries of that nerve. + + +DISEASES OF NERVES + +#Traumatic Neuritis.#--This consists in an overgrowth of the +connective-tissue framework of a nerve, which causes irritation and +pressure upon the nerve fibres, sometimes resulting in their +degeneration. It may originate in connection with a wound in the +vicinity of a nerve, as, for example, when the brachial nerves are +involved in scar tissue subsequent to an operation for clearing out the +axilla for cancer; or in contusion and compression of a nerve--for +example, by the pressure of the head of the humerus in a dislocation of +the shoulder. Some weeks or months after the injury, the patient +complains of increasing hyperaesthesia and of neuralgic pains in the +course of the nerve. The nerve is very sensitive to pressure, and, if +superficial, may be felt to be swollen. The associated muscles are +wasted and weak, and are subject to twitchings. There are also trophic +disturbances. It is rare to have complete sensory and motor paralysis. +The disease is commonest in the nerves of the upper extremity, and the +hand may become crippled and useless. + +_Treatment._--Any constitutional condition which predisposes to +neuritis, such as gout, diabetes, or syphilis, must receive appropriate +treatment. The symptoms may be relieved by rest and by soothing +applications, such as belladonna, ichthyol, or menthol, by the use of +hot-air and electric baths, and in obstinate cases by blistering or by +the application of Corrigan's button. When such treatment fails the +nerve may be stretched, or, in the case of a purely sensory trunk, a +portion may be excised. Local causes, such as involvement of the nerve +in a scar or in adhesions, may afford indications for operative +treatment. + +#Multiple Peripheral Neuritis.#--Although this disease mainly comes +under the cognizance of the physician, it may be attended with phenomena +which call for surgical interference. In this country it is commonly due +to alcoholism, but it may result from diabetes or from chronic poisoning +with lead or arsenic, or from bacterial infections and intoxications +such as occur in diphtheria, gonorrhoea, syphilis, leprosy, typhoid, +influenza, beri-beri, and many other diseases. + +It is, as a rule, widely distributed throughout the peripheral nerves, +but the distribution frequently varies with the cause--the alcoholic +form, for example, mainly affecting the legs, the diphtheritic form the +soft palate and pharynx, and that associated with lead poisoning the +forearms. The essential lesion is a degeneration of the conducting +fibres of the affected nerves, and the prominent symptoms are the result +of this. In alcoholic neuritis there is great tenderness of the muscles. +When the legs are affected the patient may be unable to walk, and the +toes may droop and the heel be drawn up, resulting in one variety of pes +equino-varus. Pressure sores and perforating ulcer of the foot are the +most important trophic phenomena. + +Apart from the medical _treatment_, measures must be taken to prevent +deformity, especially when the legs are affected. The bedclothes are +supported by a cage, and the foot maintained at right angles to the leg +by sand-bags or splints. When the disease is subsiding, the nutrition of +the damaged nerves and muscles should be maintained by massage, baths, +passive movements, and the use of the galvanic current. When deformity +has been allowed to take place, operative measures may be required for +its correction. + + +NEUROMA[5] + +[5] We have followed the classification adopted by Alexis Thomson in his +work _On Neuroma, and Neuro-fibromatosis_ (Edinburgh: 1900). + +Neuroma is a clinical term applied to all tumours, irrespective of their +structure, which have their seat in nerves. + +A tumour composed of newly formed nerve tissue is spoken of as a #true +neuroma#; when ganglionic cells are present in addition to nerve fibres, +the name _ganglionic neuroma_ is applied. These tumours are rare, and +are chiefly met with in the main cords or abdominal plexuses of the +sympathetic system of children or young adults. They are quite +insensitive, and their removal is only called for if they cause pain or +show signs of malignancy. + +A #false neuroma# is an overgrowth of the sheath of a nerve. This +overgrowth may result in the formation of a circumscribed tumour, or may +take the form of a diffuse fibromatosis. + +_The circumscribed or solitary tumour_ grows from the sheath of a nerve +which is otherwise healthy, and it may be innocent or malignant. + +_The innocent_ form is usually fibrous or myxomatous, and is definitely +encapsulated. It may become cystic as a result of haemorrhage or of +myxomatous degeneration. It grows very slowly, is usually elliptical in +shape, and the solid form is rarely larger than a hazel-nut. The nerve +fibres may be spread out all round the tumour, or may run only on one +side of it. When subcutaneous and related to the smaller unnamed +cutaneous nerves, it is known as a _painful subcutaneous nodule_ or +_tubercle_. It is chiefly met with about the ankle, and most often in +women. It is remarkably sensitive, even gentle handling causing intense +pain, which usually radiates to the periphery of the nerve affected. +When related to a deeper, named nerve-trunk, it is known as a +_trunk-neuroma_. It is usually less sensitive than the "subcutaneous +nodule," and rarely gives rise to motor symptoms unless it involves the +nerve roots where they pass through bony canals. + +A trunk-neuroma is recognised clinically by its position in the line of +a nerve, by the fact that it is movable in the transverse axis of the +nerve but not in its long axis, and by being unduly painful and +sensitive. + +[Illustration: FIG. 85.--Amputation Stump of Upper Arm, showing bulbous +thickening of the ends of the nerves, embedded in scar tissue at the +apex of the stamp.] + +_Treatment._--If the tumour causes suffering it should be removed, +preferably by shelling it out from the investing nerve sheath or +capsule. In the subcutaneous nodule the nerve is rarely recognisable, +and is usually sacrificed. When removal of the tumour is incomplete, a +tube of radium should be inserted into the cavity, to prevent recurrence +of the tumour in a malignant form. + +_The malignant neuroma_ is a sarcoma growing from the sheath of a nerve. +It has the same characters and clinical features as the innocent +variety, only it grows more rapidly, and by destroying the nerve fibres +causes motor symptoms--jerkings followed by paralysis. The sarcoma tends +to spread along the lymph spaces in the long axis of the nerve, as well +as to implicate the surrounding tissues, and it is liable to give rise +to secondary growths. The malignant neuroma is met with chiefly in the +sciatic and other large nerves of the limbs. + +The _treatment_ is conducted on the same lines as sarcoma in other +situations; the insertion of a tube of radium after removal of the +tumour diminishes the tendency to recurrence; a portion of the +nerve-trunk being sacrificed, means must be taken to bridge the gap. In +inoperable cases it may be possible to relieve pain by excising a +portion of the nerve above the tumour, or, when this is impracticable, +by resecting the posterior nerve roots and their ganglia within the +vertebral canal. + +The so-called _amputation neuroma_ has already been referred to (p. 344). + +_Diffuse or Generalised Neuro-Fibromatosis--Recklinghausen's +Disease._--These terms are now used to include what were formerly known +as "multiple neuromata," as well as certain other overgrowths related to +nerves. The essential lesion is an overgrowth of the endoneural +connective tissue throughout the nerves of both the cerebro-spinal and +sympathetic systems. The nerves are diffusely and unequally thickened, +so that small twigs may become enlarged to the size of the median, while +at irregular intervals along their course the connective-tissue +overgrowth is exaggerated so as to form tumour-like swellings similar to +the trunk-neuroma already described. The tumours, which vary greatly in +size and number--as many as a thousand have been counted in one +case--are enclosed in a capsule derived from the perineurium. The +fibromatosis may also affect the cranial nerves, the ganglia on the +posterior nerve roots, the nerves within the vertebral canal, and the +sympathetic nerves and ganglia, as well as the continuations of the +motor nerves within the muscles. The nerve fibres, although mechanically +displaced and dissociated by the overgrown endoneurium, undergo no +structural change except when compressed in passing through a bony +canal. + +The disease probably originates before birth, although it may not make +its appearance till adolescence or even till adult life. It is sometimes +met with in several members of one family. It is recognised clinically +by the presence of multiple tumours in the course of the nerves, and +sometimes by palpable enlargement of the superficial nerve-trunks +(Fig. 86). The tumours resemble the solitary trunk-neuroma, are usually +quite insensitive, and many of them are unknown to the patient. As a +result of injury or other exciting cause, however, one or other tumour +may increase in size and become extremely sensitive; the pain is then +agonising; it is increased by handling, and interferes with sleep. In +these conditions, a malignant transformation of the fibroma into sarcoma +is to be suspected. Motor disturbances are exceptional, unless in the +case of tumours within the vertebral canal, which press on the spinal +medulla and cause paraplegia. + +[Illustration: FIG. 86.--Diffuse enlargement of Nerves in generalised +Neuro-fibromatosis. + +(After R. W. Smith.)] + +Neuro-fibromatosis is frequently accompanied by _pigmentation of the +skin_ in the form of brown spots or patches scattered over the trunk. + +The disease is often stationary for long periods. In progressive cases +the patient becomes exhausted, and usually dies of some intercurrent +affection, particularly phthisis. The treatment is restricted to +relieving symptoms and complications; removal of one of the tumours is +to be strongly deprecated. + +In a considerable proportion of cases one of the multiple tumours takes +on the characters of a malignant growth ("secondary malignant neuroma," +Garre). This malignant transformation may follow upon injury, or on an +unsuccessful attempt to remove the tumour. The features are those of a +rapidly growing sarcoma involving a nerve-trunk, with agonising pain +and muscular cramps, followed by paralysis from destruction of the +nerve fibres. The removal of the tumour is usually followed by +recurrence, so that high amputation is the only treatment to be +recommended. Metastasis to internal organs is exceptional. + +[Illustration: FIG. 87.--Plexiform Neuroma of small Sciatic Nerve, from +a girl aet. 16. + +(Mr. Annandale's case.)] + +There are other types of neuro-fibromatosis which require brief mention. + +_The plexiform neuroma_ (Fig. 87) is a fibromatosis confined to the +distribution of one or more contiguous nerves or of a plexus of nerves, +and it may occur either by itself or along with multiple tumours of the +nerve-trunks and with pigmentation of the skin. The clinical features +are those of an ill-defined swelling composed of a number of tortuous, +convoluted cords, lying in a loose areolar tissue and freely movable on +one another. It is rarely the seat of pain or tenderness. It most often +appears in the early years of life, sometimes in relation to a pigmented +or hairy mole. It is of slow growth, may remain stationary for long +periods, and has little or no tendency to become malignant. It is +usually subcutaneous, and is frequently situated on the head or neck in +the distribution of the trigeminal or superficial cervical nerves. There +is no necessity for its removal, but this may be indicated because of +disfigurement, especially on the face or scalp or because its bulk +interferes with function. When involving the ophthalmic division of the +trigeminus, for example, it may cause enlargement of the upper lid and +proptosis, with danger to the function of the globe. The results of +excision are usually satisfactory, even if the removal is not complete. + +[Illustration: FIG. 88.--Multiple Neuro-fibromas of Skin (Molluscum +fibrosum, or Recklinghausen's disease).] + +_The cutaneous neuro-fibroma_ or _molluscum fibrosum_ has been shown by +Recklinghausen to be a soft fibroma related to the terminal filaments of +one of the cutaneous nerves (Fig. 88). The disease appears in the form +of multiple, soft, projecting tumours, scattered all over the body, +except the palms of the hands and soles of the feet. The tumours are of +all sizes, some being no larger than a pin's head, whilst many are as +big as a filbert and a few even larger. Many are sessile and others are +distinctly pedunculated, but all are covered with skin. They are mobile, +soft to the touch, and of the consistence of firm fat. In exceptional +cases one of the skin tumours may attain an enormous size and cause a +hideous deformity, hanging down by its own weight in lobulated or folded +masses (pachy-dermatocele). The treatment consists in removing the +larger swellings. In some cases molluscum fibrosum is associated with +pigmentation of the skin and with multiple tumours of the nerve-trunks. +The small multiple tumours rarely call for interference. + +[Illustration: FIG. 89.--Elephantiasis Neuromatosa in a woman aet. 28] + +_Elephantiasis neuromatosa_ is the name applied by Virchow to a +condition in which a limb is swollen and misshapen as a result of the +extension of a neuro-fibromatosis to the skin and subcutaneous cellular +tissue of the extremity as a whole (Fig. 89). It usually begins in early +life without apparent cause, and it may be associated with multiple +tumours of the nerve-trunks. The inconvenience caused by the bulk and +weight of the limb may justify its removal. + + +SURGERY OF THE INDIVIDUAL NERVES[6] + +[6] We desire here to acknowledge our indebtedness to Mr. James +Sherren's work on _Injuries of Nerves and their Treatment_. + +#The Brachial Plexus.#--Lesions of the brachial plexus may be divided +into those above the clavicle and those below that bone. + +In the #supra-clavicular injuries#, the violence applied to the head or +shoulder causes over-stretching of the anterior branches (primary +divisions) of the cervical nerves, the fifth, or the fifth and sixth +being those most liable to suffer. Sometimes the traction is exerted +upon the plexus from below, as when a man in falling from a height +endeavours to save himself by clutching at some projection, and the +lesion then mainly affects the first dorsal nerve. There is tearing of +the nerve sheaths, with haemorrhage, but in severe cases partial or +complete severance of nerve fibres may occur and these give way at +different levels. During the healing process an excess of fibrous tissue +is formed, which may interfere with regeneration. + +_Post-anaesthetic paralysis_ occurs in patients in whom, during the +course of an operation, the arm is abducted and rotated laterally or +extended above the head, causing over-stretching of the plexus, +especially of the fifth, or fifth and sixth, anterior branches. + +A _cervical rib_ may damage the plexus by direct pressure, the part +usually affected being the medial cord, which is made up of fibres from +the eighth cervical and first dorsal nerves. + +When a lesion of the plexus complicates a _fracture of the clavicle_, +the nerve injury is due, not to pressure on or laceration of the nerves +by fragments of bone, but to the violence causing the fracture, and this +is usually applied to the point of the shoulder. + +Penetrating _wounds_, apart from those met with in military practice, +are rare. + +In the #infra-clavicular injuries#, the lesion most often results from +the pressure of the dislocated head of the humerus; occasionally from +attempts made to reduce the dislocation by the heel-in-the-axilla +method, or from fracture of the upper end of the humerus or of the neck +of the scapula. The whole plexus may suffer, but more frequently the +medial cord is alone implicated. + +_Clinical Features._--Three types of lesion result from indirect +violence: the whole plexus; the upper-arm type; and the lower-arm type. + +_When the whole plexus is involved_, sensibility is lost over the entire +forearm and hand and over the lateral surface of the arm in its distal +two-thirds. All the muscles of the arm, forearm, and hand are paralysed, +and, as a rule, also the pectorals and spinati, but the rhomboids and +serratus anterior escape. There is paralysis of the sympathetic fibres +to the eye and orbit, with narrowing of the palpebral fissure, recession +of the globe, and the pupil is slow to dilate when shaded from the +light. + +The _upper-arm type_--Erb-Duchenne paralysis--is that most frequently +met with, and it is due to a lesion of the fifth anterior branch, or, it +may be, also of the sixth. The position of the upper limb is typical: +the arm and forearm hang close to the side, with the forearm extended +and pronated; the deltoid, spinati, biceps, brachialis, and supinators +are paralysed, and in some cases the radial extensors of the wrist and +the pronator teres are also affected. The patient is unable to supinate +the forearm or to abduct the arm, and in most cases to flex the forearm. +He may, however, regain some power of flexing the forearm when it is +fully pronated, the extensors of the wrist becoming feeble flexors of +the elbow. There is, as a rule, no loss of sensibility, but complaint +may be made of tickling and of pins-and-needles over the lateral aspect +of the arm. The abnormal position of the limb may persist although the +muscles regain the power of voluntary movement, and as the condition +frequently follows a fall on the shoulder, great care is necessary in +diagnosis, as the condition is apt to be attributed to an injury to the +axillary (circumflex) nerve. + +The _lower-arm type_ of paralysis, associated with the name of Klumpke, +is usually due to over-stretching of the plexus, and especially affects +the anterior branch of the first dorsal nerve. In typical cases all the +intrinsic muscles of the hand are affected, and the hand assumes the +claw shape. Sensibility is usually altered over the medial side of the +arm and forearm, and there is paralysis of the sympathetic. + +_Infra-clavicular injuries_, as already stated, are most often produced +by a sub-coracoid dislocation of the humerus; the medial cord is that +most frequently injured, and the muscles paralysed are those supplied by +the ulnar nerve, with, in addition, those intrinsic muscles of the hand +supplied by the median. Sensibility is affected over the medial surface +of the forearm and ulnar area of the hand. Injury of the lateral and +posterior cords is very rare. + +_Treatment_ is carried out on the lines already laid down for nerve +injuries in general. It is impossible to diagnose between complete and +incomplete rupture of the nerve cords, until sufficient time has elapsed +to allow of the establishment of the reaction of degeneration. If this +is present at the end of fourteen days, operation should not be delayed. +Access to the cords of the plexus is obtained by a dissection similar to +that employed for the subclavian artery, and the nerves are sought for +as they emerge from under cover of the scalenus anterior, and are then +traced until the seat of injury is found. In the case of the first +dorsal nerve, it may be necessary temporarily to resect the clavicle. +The usual after-treatment must be persisted in until recovery ensues, +and care must be taken that the paralysed muscles do not become +over-stretched. The prognosis is less favourable in the supra-clavicular +lesions than in those below the clavicle, which nearly always recover +without surgical intervention. + +In the _brachial birth-paralysis_ met with in infants, the lesion is due +to over-stretching of the plexus, and is nearly always of the +Erb-Duchenne type. The injury is usually unilateral, it occurs with +almost equal frequency in breech and in vertex presentations, and the +left arm is more often affected than the right. The lesion is seldom +recognised at birth. The first symptom noticed is tenderness in the +supra-clavicular region, the child crying when this part is touched or +the arm is moved. The attitude may be that of the Erb-Duchenne type, or +the whole of the muscles of the upper limb may be flaccid, and the arm +hangs powerless. A considerable proportion of the cases recover +spontaneously. The arm is to be kept at rest, with the affected muscles +relaxed, and, as soon as tenderness has disappeared, daily massage and +passive movements are employed. The reaction of degeneration can rarely +be satisfactorily tested before the child is three months old, but if it +is present, an operation should be performed. After operation, the +shoulder should be elevated so that no traction is exerted on the +affected cords. + +#The long thoracic nerve# (nerve of Bell), which supplies the serratus +anterior, is rarely injured. In those whose occupation entails carrying +weights upon the shoulder it may be contused, and the resulting +paralysis of the serratus is usually combined with paralysis of the +lower part of the trapezius, the branches from the third and fourth +cervical nerves which supply this muscle also being exposed to pressure +as they pass across the root of the neck. There is complaint of pain +above the clavicle, and winging of the scapula; the patient is unable to +raise the arm in front of the body above the level of the shoulder or to +perform any forward pushing movements; on attempting either of these the +winging of the scapula is at once increased. If the scapula is compared +with that on the sound side, it is seen that, in addition to the lower +angle being more prominent, the spine is more horizontal and the lower +angle nearer the middle line. The majority of these cases recover if the +limb is placed at absolute rest, the elbow supported, and massage and +galvanism persevered with. If the paralysis persists, the sterno-costal +portion of the pectoralis major may be transplanted to the lower angle +of the scapula. + +The long thoracic nerve may be cut across while clearing out the axilla +in operating for cancer of the breast. The displacement of the scapula +is not so marked as in the preceding type, and the patient is able to +perform pushing movements below the level of the shoulder. If the +reaction of degeneration develops, an operation may be performed, the +ends of the nerve being sutured, or the distal end grafted into the +posterior cord of the brachial plexus. + +#The Axillary (Circumflex) Nerve.#--In the majority of cases in which +paralysis of the deltoid follows upon an injury of the shoulder, it is +due to a lesion of the fifth cervical nerve, as has already been +described in injuries of the brachial plexus. The axillary nerve itself +as it passes round the neck of the humerus is most liable to be injured +from the pressure of a crutch, or of the head of the humerus in +sub-glenoid dislocation, or in fracture of the neck of the scapula or of +the humerus. In miners, who work for long periods lying on the side, the +muscle may be paralysed by direct pressure on the terminal filaments of +the nerve, and the nerve may also be involved as a result of disease in +the sub-deltoid bursa. + +The deltoid is wasted, and the acromion unduly prominent. In recent +cases paralysis of the muscle is easily detected. In cases of long +standing it is not so simple, because other muscles, the spinati, the +clavicular fibres of the pectoral and the serratus, take its place and +elevate the arm; there is always loss of sensation on the lateral aspect +of the shoulder. There is rarely any call for operative treatment, as +the paralysis is usually compensated for by other muscles. + +When the _supra-scapular nerve_ is contused or stretched in injuries of +the shoulder, the spinati muscles are paralysed and wasted, the spine of +the scapula is unduly prominent, and there is impairment in the power of +abducting the arm and rotating it laterally. + +The _musculo-cutaneous nerve_ is very rarely injured; when cut across, +there is paralysis of the coraco-brachialis, biceps, and part of the +brachialis, but no movements are abolished, the forearm being flexed, in +the pronated position, by the brachio-radialis and long radial extensor +of the wrist; in the supinated position, by that portion of the +brachialis supplied by the radial nerve. Supination is feebly performed +by the supinator muscle. Protopathic and epicritic sensibility are lost +over the radial side of the forearm. + +#Radial (Musculo-Spiral) Nerve.#--From its anatomical relationships this +trunk is more exposed to injury than any other nerve in the body. It is +frequently compressed against the humerus in sleeping with the arm +resting on the back of a chair, especially in the deep sleep of +alcoholic intoxication (drunkard's palsy). It may be pressed upon by a +crutch in the axilla, by the dislocated head of the humerus, or by +violent compression of the arm, as when an elastic tourniquet is applied +too tightly. The most serious and permanent injuries of this nerve are +associated with fractures of the humerus, especially those from direct +violence attended with comminution of the bone. The nerve may be crushed +or torn by one of the fragments at the time of the injury, or at a later +period may be compressed by callus. + +_Clinical Features._--Immediately after the injury it is impossible to +tell whether the nerve is torn across or merely compressed. The patient +may complain of numbness and tingling in the distribution of the +superficial branch of the nerve, but it is a striking fact, that so long +as the nerve is divided below the level at which it gives off the dorsal +cutaneous nerve of the forearm (external cutaneous branch), there is no +loss of sensation. When it is divided above the origin of the dorsal +cutaneous branch, or when the dorsal branch of the musculo-cutaneous +nerve is also divided, there is a loss of sensibility on the dorsum +of the hand. + +The motor symptoms predominate, the muscles affected being the extensors +of the wrist and fingers, and the supinators. There is a characteristic +"drop-wrist"; the wrist is flexed and pronated, and the patient is +unable to dorsiflex the wrist or fingers (Fig. 90). If the hand and +proximal phalanges are supported, the second and third phalanges may be +partly extended by the interossei and lumbricals. There is also +considerable impairment of power in the muscles which antagonise those +that are paralysed, so that the grasp of the hand is feeble, and the +patient almost loses the use of it; in some cases this would appear to +be due to the median nerve having been injured at the same time. + +[Illustration: FIG. 90.--Drop-wrist following Fracture of Shaft of +Humerus.] + +If the lesion is high up, as it is, for example, in crutch paralysis, +the triceps and anconeus may also suffer. + +_Treatment._--The slighter forms of injury by compression recover under +massage, douching, and electricity. If there is drop-wrist, the hand and +forearm are placed on a palmar splint, with the hand dorsiflexed to +nearly a right angle, and this position is maintained until voluntary +dorsiflexion at the wrist returns to the normal. Recovery is sometimes +delayed for several months. + +In the more severe injuries associated with fracture of the humerus and +attended with the reaction of degeneration, it is necessary to cut down +upon the nerve and free it from the pressure of a fragment of bone or +from callus or adhesions. If the nerve is torn across, the ends must be +sutured, and if this is impossible owing to loss of tissue, the gap may +be bridged by a graft taken from the superficial branch of the radial +nerve, or the ends may be implanted into the median. + +Finally, in cases in which the paralysis is permanent and incurable, the +disability may be relieved by operation. A fascial graft can be employed +to act as a ligament permanently extending the wrist; it is attached to +the third and fourth metacarpal bones distally and to the radius or ulna +proximally. The flexor carpi radialis can then be joined up with the +extensor digitorum communis by passing its tendon through an aperture in +the interosseous membrane, or better still, through the pronator +quadratus, as there is less likelihood of the formation of adhesions +when the tendon passes through muscle than through interosseous +membrane. The palmaris longus is anastomosed with the abductor pollicis +longus (extensor ossis metacarpi pollicis), thus securing a fair amount +of abduction of the thumb. The flexor carpi ulnaris may also be +anastomosed with the common extensor of the fingers. The extensors of +the wrist may be shortened, so as to place the hand in the position of +dorsal flexion, and thus improve the attitude and grasp of the hand. + +_The superficial branch of the radial_ (radial nerve) _and the deep +branch_ (posterior interosseous), apart from suffering in lesions of the +radial, are liable to be contused or torn is dislocation of the head of +the radius, and in fracture of the neck of the bone. The deep branch may +be divided as it passes through the supinator in operations on old +fractures and dislocations in the region of the elbow. Division of the +superficial branch in the upper two-thirds of the forearm produces no +loss of sensibility; division in the lower third after the nerve has +become associated with branches from the musculo-cutaneous is followed +by a loss of sensibility on the radial side of the hand and thumb. Wounds +on the dorsal surface of the wrist and forearm are often followed by +loss of sensibility over a larger area, because the musculo-cutaneous +nerve is divided as well, and some of the fibres of the lower lateral +cutaneous branch of the radial. + +[Illustration: FIG. 91.--To illustrate the Loss of Sensation produced by +Division of the Median Nerve. The area of complete cutaneous +insensibility is shaded black. The parts insensitive to light touch and +to intermediate degrees of temperature are enclosed within the dotted +line. + +(After Head and Sherren.)] + +#The Median Nerve# is most frequently injured in wounds made by broken +glass in the region of the wrist. It may also be injured in fractures of +the lower end of the humerus, in fractures of both bones of the forearm, +and as a result of pressure by splints. After _division at the elbow_, +there is impairment of mobility which affects the thumb, and to a less +extent the index finger: the terminal phalanx of the thumb cannot be +flexed owing to the paralysis of the flexor pollicis longus, and the +index can only be flexed at its metacarpo-phalangeal joint by the +interosseous muscles attached to it. Pronation of the forearm is feeble, +and is completed by the weight of the hand. After _division at the +wrist_, the abductor-opponens group of muscles and the two lateral +lumbricals only are affected; the abduction of the thumb can be feebly +imitated by the short extensor and the long abductor (ext. ossis +metacarpi pollicis), while opposition may be simulated by contraction of +the long flexor and the short abductor of the thumb; the paralysis of +the two medial lumbricals produces no symptoms that can be recognised. +It is important to remember that when the median nerve is divided at the +wrist, deep touch can be appreciated over the whole of the area +supplied by the nerve; the injury, therefore, is liable to be over +looked. If, however, the tendons are divided as well as the nerve, there +is insensibility to deep touch. The areas of epicritic and of +protopathic insensibility are illustrated in Fig. 91. The division of +the nerve at the elbow, or even at the axilla, does not increase the +extent of the loss of epicritic or protopathic sensibility, but usually +affects deep sensibility. + +[Illustration: FIG. 92.--To illustrate Loss of Sensation produced by +complete Division of Ulnar Nerve. Loss of all forms of cutaneous +sensibility is represented by the shaded area. The parts insensitive to +light touch and to intermediate degrees of heat and cold are enclosed +within the dotted line. + +(Head and Sherren.)] + +#The Ulnar Nerve.#--The most common injury of this nerve is its division +in transverse accidental wounds just above the wrist. In the arm it may +be contused, along with the radial, in crutch paralysis; in the region +of the elbow it may be injured in fractures or dislocations, or it may +be accidentally divided in the operation for excising the elbow-joint. + +When it is injured _at or above the elbow_, there is paralysis of the +flexor carpi ulnaris, the ulnar half of the flexor digitorum profundus, +all the interossei, the two medial lumbricals, and the adductors of the +thumb. The hand assumes a characteristic attitude: the index and middle +fingers are extended at the metacarpo-phalangeal joints owing to +paralysis of the interosseous muscles attached to them; the little and +ring fingers are hyper-extended at these joints in consequence of the +paralysis of the lumbricals; all the fingers are flexed at the +inter-phalangeal joints, the flexion being most marked in the little and +ring fingers--claw-hand or _main en griffe_. On flexing the wrist, the +hand is tilted to the radial side, but the paralysis of the flexor carpi +ulnaris is often compensated for by the action of the palmaris longus. +The little and ring fingers can be flexed to a slight degree by the +slips of the flexor sublimis attached to them and supplied by the median +nerve; flexion of the terminal phalanx of the little finger is almost +impossible. Adduction and abduction movements of the fingers are lost. +Adduction of the thumb is carried out, not by the paralysed adductor +pollicis, but the movement may be simulated by the long flexor and +extensor muscles of the thumb. Epicritic sensibility is lost over the +little finger, the ulnar half of the ring finger, and that part of the +palm and dorsum of the hand to the ulnar side of a line drawn +longitudinally through the ring finger and continued upwards. +Protopathic sensibility is lost over an area which varies in different +cases. Deep sensibility is usually lost over an area almost as extensive +as that of protopathic insensibility. + +When the nerve is _divided at the wrist_, the adjacent tendons are also +frequently severed. If divided below the point at which its dorsal +branch is given off, the sensory paralysis is much less marked, and the +injury is therefore liable to be overlooked until the wasting of muscles +and typical _main en griffe_ ensue. The loss of sensibility after +division of the nerve before the dorsal branch is given off resembles +that after division at the elbow, except that in uncomplicated cases +deep sensibility is usually retained. If the tendons are divided as +well, however, deep touch is also lost. + +Care must be taken in all these injuries to prevent deformity; a splint +must be worn, at least during the night, until the muscles regain their +power of voluntary movement, and then exercises should be instituted. + +#Dislocation of the ulnar nerve# at the elbow results from sudden and +violent flexion of the joint, the muscular effort causing stretching or +laceration of the fascia that holds the nerve in its groove; it is +predisposed to if the groove is shallow as a result of imperfect +development of the medial condyle of the humerus, and by cubitus valgus. + +The nerve slips forward, and may be felt lying on the medial aspect of +the condyle. It may retain this position, or it may slip backwards and +forwards with the movements of the arm. The symptoms at the time of the +displacement are some disability at the elbow, and pain and tingling +along the nerve, which are exaggerated by movement and by pressure. The +symptoms may subside altogether, or a neuritis may develop, with severe +pain shooting up the nerve. + +The dislocated nerve is easily replaced, but is difficult to retain in +position. In recent cases the arm may be placed in the extended position +with a pad over the condyle, care being taken to avoid pressure on the +nerve. Failing relief, it is better to make a bed for the nerve by +dividing the deep fascia behind the medial condyle and to stitch the +edges of the fascia over the nerve. This operation has been successful +in all the recorded cases. + +#The Sciatic Nerve.#--When this nerve is compressed, as by sitting on a +fence, there is tingling and powerlessness in the limb as a whole, known +as "sleeping" of the limb, but these phenomena are evanescent. _Injuries +to the great sciatic nerve_ are rare except in war. Partial division is +more common than complete, and it is noteworthy that the fibres destined +for the peroneal nerve are more often and more severely injured than +those for the tibial (internal popliteal). After complete division, all +the muscles of the leg are paralysed; if the section is in the upper +part of the thigh, the hamstrings are also paralysed. The limb is at +first quite powerless, but the patient usually recovers sufficiently to +be able to walk with a little support, and although the hamstrings are +paralysed the knee can be flexed by the sartorius and gracilis. The +chief feature is drop-foot. There is also loss of sensation below the +knee except along the course of the long saphenous nerve on the medial +side of the leg and foot. Sensibility to deep touch is only lost over a +comparatively small area on the dorsum of the foot. + +#The Common Peroneal (external popliteal) nerve# is exposed to injury +where it winds round the neck of the fibula, because it is superficial +and lies against the unyielding bone. It may be compressed by a +tourniquet, or it may be bruised or torn in fractures of the upper end +of the bone. It has been divided in accidental wounds,--by a scythe, for +example,--in incising for cellulitis, and in performing subcutaneous +tenotomy of the biceps tendon. Cases have been observed of paralysis of +the nerve as a result of prolonged acute flexion of the knee in certain +occupations. + +When the nerve is divided, the most obvious result is "drop-foot"; the +patient is unable to dorsiflex the foot and cannot lift his toes off the +ground, so that in walking he is obliged to jerk the foot forwards and +laterally. The loss of sensibility depends upon whether the nerve is +divided above or below the origin of the large cutaneous branch which +comes off just before it passes round the neck of the fibula. In course +of time the foot becomes inverted and the toes are pointed--pes +equino-varus--and trophic sores are liable to form. + +#The Tibial (internal popliteal) nerve# is rarely injured. + +#The Cranial nerves# are considered with affections of the head and neck +(Vol. II.). + + +NEURALGIA + +The term neuralgia is applied clinically to any pain which follows the +course of a nerve, and is not referable to any discoverable cause. It +should not be applied to pain which results from pressure on a nerve by +a tumour, a mass of callus, an aneurysm, or by any similar gross lesion. +We shall only consider here those forms of neuralgia which are amenable +to surgical treatment. + +#Brachial Neuralgia.#--The pain is definitely located in the +distribution of one of the branches or nerve roots, is often +intermittent, and is usually associated with tingling and disturbance of +tactile sensation. The root of the neck should be examined to exclude +pressure as the cause of the pain by a cervical rib, a tumour, or an +aneurysm. When medical treatment fails, the nerve-trunks may be injected +with saline solution or recourse may be had to operative measures, the +affected cords being exposed and stretched through an incision in the +posterior triangle of the neck. If this fails to give relief, the more +serious operation of resecting the posterior roots of the affected +nerves within the vertebral canal may be considered. + +_Neuralgia of the sciatic nerve_--#sciatica#--is the most common form of +neuralgia met with in surgical practice. + +It is chiefly met with in adults of gouty or rheumatic tendencies who +suffer from indigestion, constipation, and oxaluria--in fact, the same +type of patients who are liable to lumbago, and the two affections are +frequently associated. In hospital practice it is commonly met with in +coal-miners and others who assume a squatting position at work. The +onset of the pain may follow over-exertion and exposure to cold and wet, +especially in those who do not take regular exercise. Any error of diet +or indulgence in beer or wine may contribute to its development. + +The essential symptom is paroxysmal or continuous pain along the course +of the nerve in the buttock, thigh, or leg. It may be comparatively +slight, or it may be so severe as to prevent sleep. It is aggravated by +movement, so that the patient walks lame or is obliged to lie up. It is +aggravated also by any movement which tends to put the nerve on the +stretch, as in bending down to put on the shoes, such movements also +causing tingling down the nerve, and sometimes numbness in the foot. +This may be demonstrated by flexing the thigh on the abdomen, the knee +being kept extended; there is no pain if the same manoeuvre is repeated +with the knee flexed. The nerve is sensitive to pressure, the most +tender points being its emergence from the greater sciatic foramen, the +hollow between the trochanter and the ischial tuberosity, and where the +common peroneal nerve winds round the neck of the fibula. The muscles of +the thigh are often wasted and are liable to twitch. + +The clinical features vary a good deal in different cases; the affection +is often obstinate, and may last for many weeks or even months. + +In the sciatica that results from neuritis and perineuritis, there is +marked tenderness on pressure due to the involvement of the nerve +filaments in the sheath of the nerve, and there may be patches of +cutaneous anaesthesia, loss of tendon reflexes, localised wasting of +muscles, and vaso-motor and trophic changes. The presence of the +reaction of degeneration confirms the diagnosis of neuritis. In +long-standing cases the pain and discomfort may lead to a postural +scoliosis (_ischias-scoliotica_). + +_Diagnosis._--Pain referred along the course of the sciatic nerve on one +side, or, as is sometimes the case, on both sides, is a symptom of +tumours of the uterus, the rectum, or the pelvic bones. It may result +also from the pressure of an abscess or an aneurysm either inside the +pelvis or in the buttock, and is sometimes associated with disease of +the spinal medulla, such as tabes. Gluteal fibrositis may be mistaken +for sciatica. It is also necessary to exclude such conditions as disease +in the hip or sacro-iliac joint, especially tuberculous disease and +arthritis deformans, before arriving at a diagnosis of sciatica. A +digital examination of the rectum or vagina is of great value in +excluding intra-pelvic tumours. + +_Treatment_ is both general and local. Any constitutional tendency, such +as gout or rheumatism, must be counteracted, and indigestion, oxaluria, +and constipation should receive appropriate treatment. In acute cases +the patient is confined to bed between blankets, the limb is wrapped in +thermogene wool, and the knee is flexed over a pillow; in some cases +relief is experienced from the use of a long splint, or slinging the leg +in a Salter's cradle. A rubber hot-bottle may be applied over the seat +of greatest pain. The bowels should be well opened by castor oil or by +calomel followed by a saline. Salicylate of soda in full doses, or +aspirin, usually proves effectual in relieving pain, but when this is +very intense it may call for injections of heroin or morphin. Potassium +iodide is of benefit in chronic cases. + +Relief usually results from bathing, douching, and massage, and from +repeated gentle stretching of the nerve. This may be carried out by +passive movements of the limb--the hip being flexed while the knee is +kept extended; and by active movements--the patient flexing the limb at +the hip, the knee being maintained in the extended position. These +exercises, which may be preceded by massage, are carried out night and +morning, and should be practised systematically by those who are liable +to sciatica. + +Benefit has followed the injection into the nerve itself, or into the +tissues surrounding it, of normal saline solution; from 70-100 c.c. are +injected at one time. If the pain recurs, the injection may require to +be repeated on many occasions at different points up and down the nerve. +Needling or acupuncture consists in piercing the nerve at intervals in +the buttock and thigh with long steel needles. Six or eight needles are +inserted and left in position for from fifteen to thirty minutes. + +In obstinate and severe cases the nerve may be _forcibly stretched_. +This may be done bloodlessly by placing the patient on his back with the +hip flexed to a right angle, and then gradually extending the knee until +it is in a straight line with the thigh (Billroth). A general anaesthetic +is usually required. A more effectual method is to expose the nerve +through an incision at the fold of the buttock, and forcibly pull upon +it. This operation is most successful when the pain is due to the nerve +being involved in adhesions. + +#Trigeminal Neuralgia.#--A severe form of epileptiform neuralgia occurs +in the branches of the fifth nerve, and is one of the most painful +affections to which human flesh is liable. So far as its pathology is +known, it is believed to be due to degenerative changes in the semilunar +(Gasserian) ganglion. It is met with in adults, is almost invariably +unilateral, and develops without apparent cause. The pain, which occurs +in paroxysms, is at first of moderate severity, but gradually becomes +agonising. In the early stages the paroxysms occur at wide intervals, +but later they recur with such frequency as to be almost continuous. +They are usually excited by some trivial cause, such as moving the jaws +in eating or speaking, touching the face as in washing, or exposure to a +draught of cold air. Between the paroxysms the patient is free from +pain, but is in constant terror of its return, and the face wears an +expression of extreme suffering and anxiety. When the paroxysm is +accompanied by twitching of the facial muscles, it is called _spasmodic +tic_. + +The skin of the affected area may be glazed and red, or may be pale and +moist with inspissated sweat, the patient not daring to touch or wash +it. + +There is excessive tenderness at the points of emergence of the +different branches on the face, and pressure over one or other of these +points may excite a paroxysm. In typical cases the patient is unable to +take any active part in life. The attempt to eat is attended with such +severe pain that he avoids taking food. In some cases the suffering is +so great that the patient only obtains sleep by the use of hypnotics, +and he is often on the verge of suicide. + +_Diagnosis._--There is seldom any difficulty in recognising the disease. +It is important, however, to exclude the hysterical form of neuralgia, +which is characterised by its occurrence earlier in life, by the pain +varying in situation, being frequently bilateral, and being more often +constant than paroxysmal. + +_Treatment._--Before having recourse to the measures described below, it +is advisable to give a thorough trial to the medical measures used in +the treatment of neuralgia. + +_The Injection of Alcohol into the Nerve._--The alcohol acts by +destroying the nerve fibres, and must be brought into direct contact +with them; if the nerve has been properly struck the injection is +followed by complete anaesthesia in the distribution of the nerve. The +relief may last for from six months to three years; if the pain returns, +the injection may be repeated. The strength of the alcohol should be 85 +per cent., and the amount injected about 2 c.c.; a general, or +preferably a local, anaesthetic (novocain) should be employed +(Schlosser); the needle is 8 cm. long, and 0.7 mm. in diameter. The +severe pain which the alcohol causes may be lessened, after the needle +has penetrated to the necessary depth, by passing a few cubic +centimetres of a 2 per cent. solution of _novocain-suprarenin_ through +it before the alcohol is injected. The treatment by injection of alcohol +is superior to the resection of branches of the nerve, for though +relapses occur after the treatment with alcohol, renewed freedom from +pain may be obtained by its repetition. The ophthalmic division should +not, however, be treated in this manner, for the alcohol may escape into +the orbit and endanger other nerves in this region. Harris recommends +the injection of alcohol into the semilunar ganglion. + +_Operative Treatment._--This consists in the removal of the affected +nerve or nerves, either by resection--_neurectomy_; or by a combination +of resection with twisting or tearing of the nerve from its central +connections--_avulsion_. To prevent the regeneration of the nerve after +these operations, the canal of exit through the bone should be +obliterated; this is best accomplished by a silver screw-nail driven +home by an ordinary screw-driver (Charles H. Mayo). + +When the neuralgia involves branches of two or of all three trunks, or +when it has recurred after temporary relief following resection of +individual branches, the _removal of the semilunar ganglion_, along with +the main trunks of the maxillary and mandibular divisions, should be +considered. + +The operation is a difficult and serious one, but the results are +satisfactory so far as the cure of the neuralgia is concerned. There is +little or no disability from the unilateral paralysis of the muscles of +mastication; but on account of the insensitiveness of the cornea, the +eye must be protected from irritation, especially during the first month +or two after the operation; this may be done by fixing a large +watch-glass around the edge of the orbit with adhesive plaster. + +If the ophthalmic branch is not involved, neither it nor the ganglion +should be interfered with; the maxillary and mandibular divisions should +be divided within the skull, and the foramen rotundum and foramen ovale +obliterated. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE SKIN AND SUBCUTANEOUS TISSUE + + +Structure of skin--_Blisters_--_Callosities_--_Corns_--_Chilblains_ + --_Boils_--_Carbuncle_--_Abscess_--_Veldt sores_--Tuberculosis of + skin: _Inoculation tubercle_--_Lupus_: _Varieties_--Sporotrichosis + --Elephantiasis--Sebaceous cysts or wens--Moles--Horns--New growths: + _Fibroma_; _Papilloma_; _Adenoma_; _Epithelioma_; _Rodent cancer_; + _Melanotic cancer_; _Sarcoma_--AFFECTIONS OF CICATRICES--_Varieties + of scars_--_Keloid_--_Tumours_--AFFECTIONS OF NAILS. + +#Structure of Skin.#--The skin is composed of a superficial cellular +layer--the epidermis, and the corium or true skin. The _epidermis_ is +differentiated from without inwards into the stratum corneum, the +stratum lucidum, the stratum granulosum, and the rete Malpighii or +germinal layer, from which all the others are developed. The _corium_ or +_true skin_ consists of connective tissue, in which ramify the blood +vessels, lymphatics, and nerves. That part of the corium immediately +adjoining the epidermis is known as the papillary portion, and contains +the terminal loops of the cutaneous blood vessels and the terminations +of the cutaneous nerves. The deeper portion of the true skin is known as +the reticular portion, and is largely composed of adipose tissue. + +#Blisters# result from the exudation of serous fluid beneath the horny +layer of the epidermis. The fluid may be clear, as in the blisters of a +recent burn, or blood-stained, as in the blisters commonly accompanying +fractures of the leg. It may become purulent as a result of infection, +and this may be the starting-point of lymphangitis or cellulitis. + +The skin should be disinfected and the blisters punctured. When +infected, the separated horny layer must be cut away with scissors to +allow of the necessary purification. + +#Callosities# are prominent, indurated masses of the horny layer of the +epidermis, where it has been exposed to prolonged friction and pressure. +They occur on the fingers and hand as a result of certain occupations +and sports, but are most common under the balls of the toes or heel. A +bursa may form beneath a callosity, and if it becomes inflamed may cause +considerable suffering; if suppuration ensues, a sinus may form, +resembling a perforating ulcer of the foot. + +The _treatment_ of callosities on the foot consists in removing pressure +by wearing properly fitting boots, and in applying a ring pad around the +callosity; another method is to fit a sock of spongiopilene with a hole +cut out opposite the callosity. After soaking in hot water, the +overgrown horny layer is pared away, and the part painted daily with a +saturated solution of salicylic acid in flexile collodion. + +[Illustration: FIG. 93.--Callosities and Corns on the Sole and Plantar +Aspect of the Toes in a woman who was also the subject of flat-foot.] + +#Corns.#--A corn is a localised overgrowth of the horny layer of the +epidermis, which grows downwards, pressing upon and displacing the +sensitive papillae of the corium. Corns are due to the friction and +pressure of ill-fitting boots, and are met with chiefly on the toes and +sole of the foot. A corn is usually hard, dry, and white; but it may be +sodden from moisture, as in "soft corns" between the toes. A bursa may +form beneath a corn, and if inflamed constitutes one form of bunion. +When suppuration takes place in relation to a corn, there is great pain +and disability, and it may prove the starting-point of lymphangitis. + +The _treatment_ consists in the wearing of properly fitting boots and +stockings, and, if the symptoms persist, the corn should be removed. +This is done after the manner of chiropodists by digging out the corn +with a suitably shaped knife. A more radical procedure is to excise, +under local anaesthesia, the portion of skin containing the corn and +the underlying bursa. The majority of so-called corn solvents consist of +a solution of salicylic acid in collodion; if this is painted on daily, +the epidermis dies and can then be pared away. The unskilful paring of +corns may determine the occurrence of senile gangrene in those who are +predisposed to it by disease of the arteries. + +[Illustration: FIG. 94.--Ulcerated Chilblains on Fingers of a Child.] + +#Chilblains.#--Chilblain or _erythema pernio_ is a vascular disturbance +resulting from the alternate action of cold and heat on the distal parts +of the body. Chilblains are met with chiefly on the fingers and toes in +children and anaemic girls. In the mild form there is a sensation of +burning and itching, the part becomes swollen, of a dusky red colour, +and the skin is tense and shiny. In more severe cases the burning and +itching are attended with pain, and the skin becomes of a violet or +wine-red colour. There is a third degree, closely approaching +frost-bite, in which the skin tends to blister and give way, leaving an +indolent raw surface popularly known as a "broken chilblain." + +Those liable to chilblains should take open-air exercise, nourishing +food, cod-liver oil, and tonics. Woollen stockings and gloves should be +worn in cold weather, and sudden changes of temperature avoided. The +symptoms may be relieved by ichthyol ointment, glycerin and belladonna, +or a mixture of Venice turpentine, castor oil, and collodion applied on +lint which is wrapped round the toe. Another favourite application is +one of equal parts of tincture of capsicum and compound liniment of +camphor, painted over the area night and morning. Balsam of Peru or +resin ointment spread on gauze should be applied to broken chilblains. +The most effective treatment is Bier's bandage applied for about six +hours twice daily; it can be worn while the patient is following his +occupation; in chronic cases this may be supplemented with hot-air +baths. + +#Boils and Carbuncles.#--These result from infection with the +staphylococcus aureus, which enters the orifices of the ducts of the +skin under the influence of friction and pressure, as was demonstrated +by the well-known experiment of Garre, who produced a crop of pustules +and boils on his own forearm by rubbing in a culture of the +staphylococcus aureus. + +A #boil# results when the infection is located in a hair follicle or +sebaceous gland. A hard, painful, conical swelling develops, to which, +so long as the skin retains its normal appearance, the term "blind +boil" is applied. Usually, however, the skin becomes red, and after a +time breaks, giving exit to a drop or two of thick pus. After an +interval of from six to ten days a soft white slough is discharged; this +is known as the "core," and consists of the necrosed hair follicle or +sebaceous gland. After the separation of the core the boil heals +rapidly, leaving a small depressed scar. + +Boils are most frequently met with on the back of the neck and the +buttocks, and on other parts where the skin is coarse and thick and is +exposed to friction and pressure. The occurrence of a number or a +succession of boils is due to spread of the infection, the cocci from +the original boil obtaining access to adjacent hair follicles. The +spread of boils may be unwittingly promoted by the use of a domestic +poultice or the wearing of infected underclothing. + +While boils are frequently met with in debilitated persons, and +particularly in those suffering from diabetes or Bright's disease, they +also occur in those who enjoy vigorous health. They seldom prove +dangerous to life except in diabetic subjects, but when they occur on +the face there is a risk of lymphatic and of general pyogenic infection. +Boils may be differentiated from syphilitic lesions of the skin by +their acute onset and progress, and by the absence of other evidence of +syphilis; and from the malignant or anthrax pustule by the absence of +the central black eschar and of the circumstances which attend upon +anthrax infection. + +_Treatment._--The skin of the affected area should be painted with +iodine, and a Klapp's suction bell applied thrice daily. If pus forms, +the skin is frozen with ethyl-chloride and a small incision made, after +which the application of the suction bell is persevered with. The +further treatment consists in the use of diluted boracic or resin +ointment. In multiple boils on the trunk and limbs, lysol or boracic +baths are of service; the underclothing should be frequently changed, +and that which is discarded must be disinfected. In patients with +recurrence of boils about the neck, re-infection frequently takes place +from the scalp, to which therefore treatment should be directed. + +Any impaired condition of health should be corrected; when, there is +sugar or albumen in the urine the conditions on which these depend must +receive appropriate treatment. When there are successive crops of boils, +recourse should be had to vaccines. In refractory cases benefit has +followed the subcutaneous injection of lipoid solution containing tin. + +#Carbuncle# may be looked upon as an aggregation of boils, and is +characterised by a densely hard base and a brownish-red discoloration of +the skin. It is usually about the size of a crown-piece, but it may +continue to enlarge until it attains the size of a dinner-plate. The +patient is ill and feverish, and the pain may be so severe as to prevent +sleep. As time goes on several points of suppuration appear, and when +these burst there are formed a number of openings in the skin, giving it +a cribriform appearance; these openings exude pus. The different +openings ultimately fuse and the large adherent greyish-white slough is +exposed. The separation of the slough is a tedious process, and the +patient may become exhausted by pain, discharge, and toxin absorption. +When the slough is finally thrown off, a deep gap is left, which takes a +long time to heal. A large carbuncle is a grave disease, especially in a +weakly person suffering from diabetes or chronic alcoholism; we have on +several occasions seen diabetic coma supervene and the patient die +without recovering consciousness. In the majority of cases the patient +is laid aside for several months. It is most common in male adults over +forty years of age, and is usually situated on the back between the +shoulders. When it occurs on the face or anterior part of the neck it is +especially dangerous, because of the greater risk of dissemination of +the infection. + +A carbuncle is to be differentiated from an ulcerated gumma and from +anthrax pustule. + +[Illustration: FIG. 95.--Carbuncle of seventeen days' duration in a +woman aet. 57.] + +_Treatment._--Pain is relieved by full doses of opium or codein, and +these drugs are specially indicated when sugar is present in the urine. +Vaccines may be given a trial. The diet should be liberal and easily +digested, and strychnin and other stimulants may be of service. Locally +the treatment is carried out on the same lines as for boils. + +In some cases it is advisable to excise the carbuncle or to make +incisions across it in different directions, so that the resulting wound +presents a stellate appearance. + +#Acute Abscesses of the Skin and Subcutaneous Tissue in Young +Children.#--In young infants, abscesses are not infrequently met with +scattered over the trunk and limbs, and are probably the result of +infection of the sebaceous glands from dirty underclothing. The +abscesses should be opened, and the further spread of infection +prevented by cleansing of the skin and by the use of clean under-linen. +Similar abscesses are met with on the scalp in association with eczema, +impetigo, and pediculosis. + +#Veldt Sore.#--This sore usually originates in an abrasion of the +epidermis, such as a sun blister, the bite of an insect, or a scratch. A +pustule forms and bursts, and a brownish-yellow scab forms over it. When +this is removed, an ulcer is left which has little tendency to heal. +These sores are most common about the hands, arms, neck, and feet, and +are most apt to occur in those who have had no opportunities of washing, +and who have lived for a long time on tinned foods. + +#Tuberculosis of the Skin.#--Interest attaches chiefly to the primary +forms of tuberculosis of the skin in which the bacilli penetrate from +without--inoculation tubercle and lupus. + +#Inoculation Tubercle.#--The appearances vary with the conditions under +which the inoculation takes place. As observed on the fingers of adults, +the affection takes the form of an indolent painless swelling, the +epidermis being red and glazed, or warty, and irregularly fissured. +Sometimes the epidermis gives way, forming an ulcer with flabby +granulations. The infection rarely spreads to the lymphatics, but we +have seen inoculation tubercle of the index-finger followed by a large +cold abscess on the median side of the upper arm and by a huge mass of +breaking down glands in the axilla. + +In children who run about barefooted in towns, tubercle may be +inoculated into wounds in the sole or about the toes, and although the +local appearances may not be characteristic, the nature of the infection +is revealed by its tendency to spread up the limb along the lymph +vessels, giving rise to abscesses and fungating ulcers in relation to +the femoral glands. + +#Tuberculous Lupus.#--This is an extremely chronic affection of the +skin. It rarely extends to the lymph glands, and of all tuberculous +lesions is the least dangerous to life. The commonest form of +lupus--_lupus vulgaris_--usually commences in childhood or youth, and is +most often met with on the nose or cheek. The early and typical +appearance is that of brownish-yellow or pink nodules in the skin, about +the size of hemp seed. Healing frequently occurs in the centre of the +affected area while the disease continues to extend at the margin. + +When there is actual destruction of tissue and ulceration--the so-called +"_lupus excedens_" or "_ulcerans_"--healing is attended with +cicatricial contraction, which may cause unsightly deformity. When the +cheek is affected, the lower eyelid may be drawn down and everted; when +the lips are affected, the mouth may be distorted or seriously +diminished in size. When the nose is attacked, both the skin and mucous +surfaces are usually involved, and the nasal orifices may be narrowed or +even obliterated; sometimes the soft parts, including the cartilages, +are destroyed, leaving only the bones covered by tightly stretched scar +tissue. + +The disease progresses slowly, healing in some places and spreading at +others. The patient complains of a burning sensation, but little of +pain, and is chiefly concerned about the disfigurement. Nothing is more +characteristic of lupus than the appearance of fresh nodules in parts +which have already healed. In the course of years large tracts of the +face and neck may become affected. From the lips it may spread to the +gum and palate, giving to the mucous membrane the appearance of a +raised, bright-red, papillary or villous surface. When the disease +affects the gums, the teeth may become loose and fall out. + +[Illustration: FIG. 96.--Tuberculous Elephantiasis in a woman aet. 35.] + +On parts of the body other than the face, the disease is even more +chronic, and is often attended with a considerable production of dense +fibrous tissue--the so-called _fibroid lupus_. Sometimes there is a +warty thickening of the epidermis--_lupus verrucosus_. In the fingers +and toes it may lead to a progressive destruction of tissue like that +observed in leprosy, and from the resulting loss of portions of the +digits it has been called _lupus mutilans_. In the lower extremity a +remarkable form of the disease is sometimes met with, to which the term +_lupus elephantiasis_ (Fig. 96) has been applied. It commences as an +ordinary lupus of the toes or dorsum of the foot, from which the +tuberculous infection spreads to the lymph vessels, and the limb as a +whole becomes enormously swollen and unshapely. + +Finally, a long-standing lupus, especially on the cheek, may become the +seat of epithelioma--_lupus epithelioma_--usually of the exuberant or +cauliflower type, which, like other epitheliomas that originate in scar +tissue, presents little tendency to infect the lymphatics. + +The _diagnosis_ of lupus is founded on the chronic progress and long +duration, and the central scarring with peripheral extension of the +disease. On the face it is most liable to be confused with syphilis and +with rodent cancer. The syphilitic lesion belongs to the tertiary +period, and although presenting a superficial resemblance to +tuberculosis, its progress is more rapid, so that within a few months it +may involve an area of skin as wide as would be affected by lupus in as +many years. Further, it readily yields to anti-syphilitic treatment. In +cases of tertiary syphilis in which the nose is destroyed, it will be +noticed that the bones have suffered most, while in lupus the +destruction of tissue involves chiefly the soft parts. + +Rodent cancer is liable to be mistaken for lupus, because it affects the +same parts of the face; it is equally chronic, and may partly heal. It +begins later in life, however, the margin of the ulcer is more sharply +defined, and often presents a "rolled" appearance. + +_Treatment._--When the disease is confined to a limited area, the most +rapid and certain cure is obtained by _excision_; larger areas are +scraped with the sharp spoon. The _ray treatment_ includes the use of +luminous, Rontgen, or radium rays, and possesses the advantage of being +comparatively painless and of being followed by the least amount of +scarring and deformity. + +Encouraging results have also been obtained by the application of carbon +dioxide snow. + +#Multiple subcutaneous tuberculous nodules# are met with chiefly in +children. They are indolent and painless, and rarely attract attention +until they break down and form abscesses, which are usually about the +size of a cherry, and when these burst sinuses or ulcers result. If the +overlying skin is still intact, the best treatment is excision. If the +abscess has already infected the skin, each focus should be scraped and +packed. + +#Sporotrichosis# is a mycotic infection due to the sporothrix Shenkii. +It presents so many features resembling syphilis and tubercle that it is +frequently mistaken for one or other of these affections. It occurs +chiefly in males between fifteen and forty-five, who are farmers, fruit +and vegetable dealers, or florists. There is usually a history of trauma +of the nature of a scratch or a cut, and after a long incubation period +there develop a series of small, hard, round nodules in the skin and +subcutaneous tissue which, without pain or temperature, soften into +cold abscesses and leave indolent ulcers or sinuses. The infection is +of slow progress and follows the course of the lymphatics. From the +gelatinous pus the organism is cultivated without difficulty, and this +is the essential step in arriving at a diagnosis. The disease yields in +a few weeks to full doses of iodide of potassium. + +#Elephantiasis.#--This term is applied to an excessive enlargement of a +part depending upon an overgrowth of the skin and subcutaneous cellular +tissue, and it may result from a number of causes, acting independently +or in combination. The condition is observed chiefly in the extremities +and in the external organs of generation. + +_Elephantiasis from Lymphatic or Venous Obstruction._--Of this the +best-known example is _tropical elephantiasis_ (E. arabum), which is +endemic in Samoa, Barbadoes, and other places. It attacks the lower +extremity or the genitals in either sex (Figs. 97, 98). The disease is +usually ushered in with fever, and signs of lymphangitis in the part +affected. After a number of such attacks, the lymph vessels appear to +become obliterated, and the skin and subcutaneous cellular tissue, being +bathed in stagnant lymph--which possibly contains the products of +streptococci--take on an overgrowth, which continues until the part +assumes gigantic proportions. In certain cases the lymph trunks have +been found to be blocked with the parent worms of the filaria Bancrofti. +Cases of elephantiasis of the lower extremity are met with in this +country in which there are no filarial parasites in the lymph vessels, +and these present features closely resembling the tropical variety, and +usually follow upon repeated attacks of lymphangitis or erysipelas. + +The part affected is enormously increased in size, and causes +inconvenience from its bulk and weight. In contrast to ordinary dropsy, +there is no pitting on pressure, and the swelling does not disappear on +elevation of the limb. The skin becomes rough and warty, and may hang +down in pendulous folds. Blisters form on the surface and yield an +abundant exudate of clear lymph. From neglect of cleanliness, the skin +becomes the seat of eczema or even of ulceration attended with foul +discharge. + +Samson Handley has sought to replace the blocked lymph vessels by +burying in the subcutaneous tissue of the swollen part a number of stout +silk threads--_lymphangioplasty_. By their capillary action they drain +the lymph to a healthy region above, and thus enable it to enter the +circulation. It has been more successful in the face and upper limb than +in the lower extremity. If the tissues are infected with pus organisms, +a course of vaccines should precede the operation. + +[Illustration: FIG. 97.--Elephantiasis in a woman aet. 45.] + +A similar type of elephantiasis may occur after extirpation of the lymph +glands in the axilla or groin; in the leg in long-standing standing +varix and phlebitis with chronic ulcer; in the arm as a result of +extensive cancerous disease of the lymphatics in the axilla secondarily +to cancer of the breast; and in extensive tuberculous disease of the +lymphatics. The last-named is chiefly observed in the lower limb in +young adult women, and from its following upon lupus of the toes or foot +it has been called _lupus elephantiasis_. The tuberculous infection +spreads slowly up the limb by way of the lymph vessels, and as these are +obliterated the skin and cellular tissues become hypertrophied, and the +surface is studded over with fungating tuberculous masses of a livid +blue colour. As the more severe forms of the disease may prove dangerous +to life by pyogenic complications inducing gangrene of the limb, the +question of amputation may have to be considered. + +[Illustration: FIG. 98.--Elephantiasis of Penis and Scrotum in native of +Demerara. + +(Mr. Annandale's case.)] + +Belonging to this group also is a form of _congenital elephantiasis_ +resulting from the circular constriction of a limb _in utero_ by +amniotic bands. + +_Elephantiasis occurring apart from lymphatic or venous obstruction_ is +illustrated by _elephantiasis nervorum_, in which there is an overgrowth +of the skin and cellular tissue of an extremity in association with +neuro-fibromatosis of the cutaneous nerves (Fig. 89); and by +_elephantiasis Graecorum_--a form of leprosy in which the skin of the +face becomes the seat of tumour-like masses consisting of leprous +nodules. It is also illustrated by _elephantiasis involving the scrotum_ +as a result of prolonged irritation by the urine in cases in which the +penis has been amputated and the urine has infiltrated the scrotal +tissues over a period of years. + +#Sebaceous Cysts.#--Atheromatous cysts or wens are formed in relation to +the sebaceous glands and hair follicles. They are commonly met with in +adults, on the scalp (Fig. 99), face, neck, back, and external genitals. +Sometimes they are multiple, and they may be met with in several members +of the same family. They are smooth, rounded, or discoid cysts, varying +in size from a split-pea to a Tangerine orange. In consistence they are +firm and elastic, or fluctuating, and are incorporated with the +overlying skin, but movable on the deeper structures. The orifice of the +partly blocked sebaceous follicle is sometimes visible, and the contents +of the cyst can be squeezed through the opening. The wall of the cyst is +composed of a connective-tissue capsule lined by stratified squamous +epithelium. The contents consist of accumulated epithelial cells, and +are at first dry and pearly white in appearance, but as a result of +fatty degeneration they break down into a greyish-yellow pultaceous and +semi-fluid material having a peculiar stale odour. It is probable that +the decomposition of the contents is the result of the presence of +bacteria, and that from the surgical point of view they should be +regarded as infective. A sebaceous cyst may remain indefinitely without +change, or may slowly increase in size, the skin over it becoming +stretched and closely adherent to the cyst wall as a result of friction +and pressure. The contents may ooze from the orifice of the duct and dry +on the skin surface, leading to the formation of a sebaceous horn +(Fig. 100). As a result of injury the cyst may undergo sudden +enlargement from haemorrhage into its interior. + +Recurrent attacks of inflammation frequently occur, especially in wens +of the face and scalp. Suppuration may ensue and be followed by cure of +the cyst, or an offensive fungating ulcer forms which may be mistaken +for epithelioma. True cancerous transformation is rare. + +Wens are to be _diagnosed_ from dermoids, from fatty tumours, and from +cold abscesses. Dermoids usually appear before adult life, and as they +nearly always lie beneath the fascia, the skin is movable over them. A +fatty tumour is movable, and is often lobulated. The confusion with a +cold abscess is most likely to occur in wens of the neck or back, and it +may be impossible without the use of an exploring needle to +differentiate between them. + +[Illustration: FIG. 99.--Multiple Sebaceous Cysts or Wens; the larger +ones are of many years' duration.] + +_Treatment._--The removal of wens is to be recommended while they are +small and freely movable, as they are then easily shelled out after +incising the overlying skin; sometimes splitting the cyst makes its +removal easier. Local anaesthesia is to be preferred. It is important +that none of the cyst wall be left behind. In large and adherent wens an +ellipse of skin is removed along with the cyst. When inflamed, it may be +impossible to dissect out the cyst, and the wall should be destroyed +with carbolic acid, the resulting wound being treated by the open +method. + +#Moles.#--The term mole is applied to a pigmented, and usually hairy, +patch of skin, present at or appearing shortly after birth. The colour +varies from brown to black, according to the amount of melanin pigment +present. The lesion consists in an overgrowth of epidermis which often +presents an alveolar arrangement. Moles vary greatly in size: some are +mere dots, others are as large as the palm of the hand, and occasionally +a mole covers half the face. In addition to being unsightly, they bleed +freely when abraded, are liable to ulcerate from friction and pressure, +and occasionally become the starting-point of melanotic cancer. Rodent +cancer sometimes originates in the slightly pigmented moles met with on +the face. Overgrowths in relation to the cutaneous nerves, especially +the plexiform neuroma, occasionally originate in pigmented moles. Soldau +believes that the pigmentation and overgrowth of the epidermis in moles +are associated with, and probably result from, a fibromatosis of the +cutaneous nerves. + +_Treatment._--The quickest way to get rid of a mole is to excise it; if +the edges of the gap cannot be brought together with sutures, recourse +should be had to grafting. In large hairy moles of the face whose size +forbids excision, radium or the X-rays should be employed. Excellent +results have been obtained by refrigeration with solid carbon dioxide. +In children and women with delicate skin, applications of from ten to +thirty seconds suffice. In persons with coarse skin an application of +one minute may be necessary, and it may have to be repeated. + +#Horns.#--The _sebaceous_ horn results from the accumulation of the +dried contents of a wen on the surface of the skin: the sebaceous +material after drying up becomes cornified, and as fresh material is +added to the base the horn increases in length (Fig. 100). The _wart_ +horn grows from a warty papilloma of the skin. _Cicatrix_ horns are +formed by the heaping up of epidermis in the scars that result from +burns. _Nail_ horns are overgrown nails (keratomata of the nail bed), +and are met with chiefly in the great toe of elderly bedridden patients. +If an ulcer forms at the base of a horn, it may prove the starting-point +of epithelioma, and for this reason, as well as for others, horns should +be removed. + +[Illustration: FIG. 100.--Sebaceous Horn growing from Auricle. + +(Dr. Kenneth Maclachan's case.)] + +#New Growths in the Skin and Subcutaneous Tissue.#--The _Angioma_ has +been described with diseases of blood vessels. _Fibroma._--Various types +of fibroma occur in the skin. A soft pedunculated fibroma, about the +size of a pea, is commonly met with, especially on the neck and trunk; +it is usually solitary, and is easily removed with scissors. The +multiple, soft fibroma known as _molluscum fibrosum_, which depends upon +a neuro-fibromatosis of the cutaneous nerves, is described with the +tumours of nerves. Hard fibromas occurring singly or in groups may be +met with, especially in the skin of the buttock, and may present a local +malignancy, recurring after removal like the "recurrent fibroid" of +Paget. The "painful subcutaneous nodule" is a solitary fibroma related +to one of the cutaneous nerves. The hard fibroma known as _keloid_ is +described with the affections of scars. + +#Papilloma.#--The _common wart_ or verruca is an outgrowth of the +surface epidermis. It may be sessile or pedunculated hard or soft. The +surface may be smooth, or fissured and foliated like a cauliflower, or +it may be divided up into a number of spines. Warts are met with chiefly +on the hands, and are often multiple, occurring in clusters or in +successive crops. Multiple warts appear to result from some contagion, +the nature of which is unknown; they sometimes occur in an epidemic form +among school-children, and show a remarkable tendency to disappear +spontaneously. The solitary flat-topped wart which occurs on the face +of old people may, if irritated, become the seat of epithelioma. A warty +growth of the epidermis is a frequent accompaniment of moles and of that +variety of lupus known as _lupus verrucosus_. + +_Treatment._--In the multiple warts of children the health should be +braced up by a change to the seaside. A dusting-powder, consisting of +boracic acid with 5 per cent. salicylic acid, may be rubbed into the +hands after washing and drying. The persistent warts of young adults +should be excised after freezing with chloride of ethyl. When cutting is +objected to, they may be painted night and morning with salicylic +collodion, the epidermis being dehydrated with alcohol before each +application. + +_Venereal warts_ occur on the genitals of either sex, and may form large +cauliflower-like masses on the inner surface of the prepuce or of the +labia majora. Although frequently co-existing with gonorrhoea or +syphilis, they occur independently of these diseases, being probably +acquired by contact with another individual suffering from warts +(C. W. Cathcart). They give rise to considerable irritation and +suffering, and when cleanliness is neglected there may be an offensive +discharge. + +In the female, the cauliflower-like masses are dissected from the labia; +in the male, the prepuce is removed and the warts on the glans are +snipped off with scissors. In milder cases, the warts usually disappear +if the parts are kept absolutely dry and clean. A useful dusting-powder +is one consisting of calamine and 5 per cent. salicylic acid; the +exsiccated sulphate of iron, in the form of a powder, may be employed in +cases which resist this treatment. + +#Adenoma.#--This is a comparatively rare tumour growing from the glands +of the skin. One variety, known as the "tomato tumour," which apparently +originates from _the sweat glands_, is met with on the scalp and face in +women past middle life. These growths are often multiple; the individual +tumours vary in size, and the skin, which is almost devoid of hairs, is +glistening and tightly stretched over them. A similar tumour may occur +on the nose. The _sebaceous adenoma_, which originates from the +sebaceous glands, forms a projecting tumour on the face or scalp, and +when the skin is irritated it may ulcerate and fungate. The treatment +consists in the removal of the tumour along with the overlying skin. + +The exuberant masses on the nose known as "rhinophyma," "lipoma nasi," +or "potato nose" are of the nature of sebaceous adenoma, and are removed +by shaving them off with a knife until the normal shape of the nose is +restored Healing takes place with remarkable rapidity. + +#Cancer.#--There are several types of primary cancer of the skin, the +most important being squamous epithelioma, rodent cancer, and melanotic +cancer. + +[Illustration: FIG. 101.--Paraffin Epithelioma.] + +#Epithelioma# occurs in a variety of forms. When originating in a small +ulcer or wart-for example on the face in old people--it presents the +features of a chronic indurated ulcer. A more exuberant and rapidly +growing form of epithelial cancer, described by Hutchinson as the +_crateriform ulcer_, commences on the face as a small red pimple which +rapidly develops into an elevated mass shaped like a bee-hive, and +breaks down in the centre. Epithelioma may develop anywhere on the body +in relation to long-standing ulcers, especially that resulting from a +burn or from lupus; this form usually presents an exuberant outgrowth of +epidermis not unlike a cauliflower. An interesting example of +epithelioma has been described by Neve of Kashmir. The natives in that +province are in the habit of carrying a fire-basket suspended from the +waist, which often burns the skin and causes a chronic ulcer, and many +of these ulcers become the seat of epithelioma, due, in Neve's opinion, +to the actual contact of the sooty pan with the skin. + +The term _trade epithelioma_ has been applied to that form met with in +those who follow certain occupations, such as paraffin workers and +chimney-sweeps. The most recent member of this group is the _X-ray +carcinoma_, which is met with in those who are constantly exposed to the +irritation of the X-rays; there is first a chronic dermatitis with warty +overgrowth of the surface epithelium, pigmentation, and the formation of +fissures and warts. The trade epithelioma varies a good deal in +malignancy, but it tends to cause death in the same manner as other +epitheliomas. + +Epithelial cancer has also been observed in those who have taken arsenic +over long periods for medicinal purposes. + +[Illustration: FIG. 102.--Rodent Cancer of Inner Canthus.] + +#Rodent Cancer# (Rodent Ulcer).--This is a cancer originating in the +sweat glands or sebaceous follicles, or in the foetal residues of +cutaneous glands. The cells are small and closely packed together in +alveoli or in reticulated columns; cell nests are rare. It is remarkably +constant in its seat of origin, being nearly always located on the +lateral aspect of the nose or in the vicinity of the lower eyelid +(Fig. 102). It is rare on the trunk or limbs. It commences as a small +flattened nodule in the skin, the epidermis over it being stretched and +shining. The centre becomes depressed, while the margins extend in the +form of an elevated ridge. Sooner or later the epidermis gives way in +the centre, exposing a smooth raw surface devoid of granulations. + +[Illustration: FIG. 103.--Rodent Cancer of fifteen years' duration, +which has destroyed the contents of the Orbit. + +(Sir Montagu Cotterill's case)] + +The margin, while in parts irregular, is typically represented by a +well-defined "rolled" border which consists of the peripheral portion of +the cancer that has not broken down. The central ulcer may temporarily +heal. There is itching but little pain, and the condition progresses +extremely slowly; rodent cancers which have existed for many years are +frequently met with. The disease attacks and destroys every structure +with which it comes in contact, such as the eyelids, the walls of the +nasal cavities, and the bones of the face; hence it may produce the most +hideous deformities (Fig. 103). The patient may succumb to haemorrhage or +to infective complications such as erysipelas or meningitis. + +Secondary growths in the lymph glands, while not unknown, are extremely +rare. We have only seen them once--in a case of rodent cancer in the +groin. + +_Diagnosis._--Lupus is the disease most often mistaken for rodent +cancer. Lupus usually begins earlier in life, it presents apple-jelly +nodules, and lacks the rounded, elevated border. Syphilitic lesions +progress more rapidly, and also lack the characteristic margin. The +differentiation from squamous epithelioma is of considerable importance, +as the latter affection spreads more rapidly, involves the lymph glands +early, and is much more dangerous to life. + +_Treatment._--In rodent cancers of limited size--say less than one inch +in diameter--free excision is the most rapid and certain method of +treatment. The alternative is the application of radium or of the +Rontgen rays, which, although requiring many exposures, results in cure +with the minimum of disfigurement. If the cancer already covers an +extensive area, or has invaded the cavity of the orbit or nose, radium +or X-rays yield the best results. The effect is soon shown by the +ingrowth of healthy epithelium from the surrounding skin, and at the +same time the discharge is lessened. Good results are also reported from +the application of carbon dioxide snow, especially when this follows +upon a course of X-ray treatment. + +#Paget's disease# of the nipple is an epithelioma occurring in women +over forty years of age: a similar form of epithelioma is sometimes met +with at the umbilicus or on the genitals. + +#Melanotic Cancer.#--Under this head are included all new growths which +contain an excess of melanin pigment. Many of these were formerly +described as melanotic sarcoma. They nearly always originate in a +pigmented mole which has been subjected to irritation. The primary +growth may remain so small that its presence is not even suspected, or +it may increase in size, ulcerate, and fungate. The amount of pigment +varies: when small in amount the growth is brown, when abundant it is a +deep black. The most remarkable feature is the rapidity with which the +disease becomes disseminated along the lymphatics, the first evidence of +which is an enlargement of the lymph glands. As the primary growth is +often situated on the sole of the foot or in the matrix of the nail of +the great toe, the femoral and inguinal glands become enlarged in +succession, forming tumours much larger than the primary growth. +Sometimes the dissemination involves the lymph vessels of the limb, +forming a series of indurated pigmented cords and nodules (Fig. 104). +Lastly, the dissemination may be universal throughout the body, and this +usually occurs at a comparatively early stage. The secondary growths are +deeply pigmented, being usually of a coal-black colour, and melanin +pigment may be present in the urine. When recurrence takes place in or +near the scar left by the operation, the cancer nodules are not +necessarily pigmented. + +[Illustration: FIG. 104.--Diffuse Melanotic Cancer of Lymphatics of Skin +secondary to a Growth in the Sole of the Foot.] + +To extirpate the disease it is necessary to excise the tumour, with a +zone of healthy skin around it and a somewhat large zone of the +underlying subcutaneous tissue and deep fascia. Hogarth Pringle +recommends that a broad strip of subcutaneous fascia up to and including +the nearest anatomical group of glands should be removed with the tumour +in one continuous piece. + +#Secondary Cancer of the Skin.#--Cancer may spread to the skin from a +subjacent growth by direct continuity or by way of the lymphatics. Both +of these processes are so well illustrated in cases of mammary cancer +that they will be described in relation to that disease. + +#Sarcoma# of various types is met with in the skin. The fibroma, after +excision, may recur as a fibro-sarcoma. The alveolar sarcoma commences +as a hard lump and increases in size until the epidermis gives way and +an ulcer is formed. + +[Illustration: FIG. 105.--Melanotic Cancer of Forehead with Metastases +in Lymph Vessels and Glands. + +(Mr. D. P. D. Wilkie's case.)] + +A number of fresh tumours may spring up around the original growth. +Sometimes the primary growth appears in the form of multiple nodules +which tend to become confluent. Excision, unless performed early, is of +little avail, and in any case should be followed up by exposure to +radium. + + +AFFECTIONS OF CICATRICES + +A cicatrix or scar consists of closely packed bundles of white fibres +covered by epidermis; the skin glands and hair follicles are usually +absent. The size, shape, and level of the cicatrix depend upon the +conditions which preceded healing. + +A healthy scar, when recently formed, has a smooth, glossy surface of a +pinkish colour, which tends to become whiter as a result of obliteration +of the blood vessels concerned in its formation. + +_Weak Scars._--A scar is said to be weak when it readily breaks down as +a result of irritation or pressure. The scars resulting from severe +burns and those over amputation stumps are especially liable to break +down from trivial causes. The treatment is to excise the weak portion of +the scar and bring the edges of the gap together. + +_Contracted scars_ frequently cause deformity either by displacing +parts, such as the eyelid or lip, or by fixing parts and preventing the +normal movements--for example, a scar on the flexor aspect of a joint +may prevent extension of the forearm (Fig. 63). These are treated by +dividing the scar, correcting the deformity, and filling up the gap with +epithelial grafts, or with a flap of the whole thickness of the skin. +When deformity results from _depression of a scar_, as is not uncommon +after the healing of a sinus, the treatment is to excise the scar. +Depressed scars may be raised by the injection of paraffin into the +subcutaneous tissue. + +_Painful Scars._--Pain in relation to a scar is usually due to nerve +fibres being compressed or stretched in the cicatricial tissue; and in +some cases to ascending neuritis. The treatment consists in excising the +scar or in stretching or excising a portion of the nerve affected. + +_Pigmented or Discoloured Scars._--The best-known examples are the blue +coloration which results from coal-dust or gunpowder, the brown scars +resulting from chronic ulcer with venous congestion of the leg, and the +variously coloured scars caused by tattooing. The only satisfactory +method of getting rid of the coloration is to excise the scar; the edges +are brought together by sutures, or the raw surface is covered with +skin-grafts according to the size of the gap. + +_Hypertrophied Scars._--Scars occasionally broaden out and become +prominent, and on exposed parts this may prove a source of +disappointment after operations such as those for goitre or tuberculous +glands in the neck. There is sometimes considerable improvement from +exposure to the X-rays. + +_Keloid._--This term is applied to an overgrowth of scar tissue which +extends beyond the area of the original wound, and the name is derived +from the fact that this extension occurs in the form of radiating +processes, suggesting the claws of a crab. It is essentially a fibroma +or new growth of fibrous tissue, which commences in relation to the +walls of the smaller blood vessels; the bundles of fibrous tissue are +for the most part parallel with the surface, and the epidermis is +tightly stretched over them. It is more frequent in the negro and in +those who are, or have been, the subjects of tuberculous disease. + +[Illustration: FIG. 106.--Recurrent Keloid in scar left by operation for +tuberculous glands in a girl aet. 7.] + +Keloid may attack scars of any kind, such as those resulting from +leech-bites, acne pustules, boils or blisters; those resulting from +operation or accidental wounds; and the scars resulting from burns, +especially when situated over the sternum, appear to be specially +liable. The scar becomes more and more conspicuous, is elevated above +the surface, of a pinkish or brownish-pink pink colour, and sends out +irregular prolongations around its margins. The patient may complain of +itching and burning, and of great sensitiveness of the scar, even to +contact with the clothing. + +There is a natural hesitation to excise keloid because of the fear of +its returning in the new scar. The application of radium is, so far as +we know, the only means of preventing such return. The irritation +associated with keloid may be relieved by the application of salicylic +collodion or of salicylic and creosote plaster. + +_Epithelioma_ is liable to attack scars in old people, especially those +which result from burns sustained early in childhood and have never +really healed. From the absence of lymphatics in scar tissue, the +disease does not spread to the glands until it has invaded the tissues +outside the scar; the prognosis is therefore better than in epithelioma +in general. It should be excised widely; in the lower extremity when +there is also extensive destruction of tissue from an antecedent chronic +ulcer or osteomyelitis, it may be better to amputate the limb. + + +AFFECTION OF THE NAILS + +_Injuries._--When a nail is contused or crushed, blood is extravasated +beneath it, and the nail is usually shed, a new one growing in its +place. A splinter driven underneath the nail causes great pain, and if +organisms are carried in along with it, may give rise to infective +complications. The free edge of the nail should be clipped away to allow +of the removal of the foreign body and the necessary disinfection. + +_Trophic Changes._--The growth of the nails may be interfered with in +any disturbance of the general health. In nerve lesions, such as a +divided nerve-trunk, the nails are apt to suffer, becoming curved, +brittle, or furrowed, or they may be shed. + +_Onychia_ is the term applied to an infection of the soft parts around +the nail or of the matrix beneath it. The commonest form of onychia has +already been referred to with whitlow. There is a superficial variety +resulting from the extension of a purulent blister beneath the nail +lifting it up from its bed, the pus being visible through the nail. The +nail as well as the raised horny layer of the epidermis should be +removed. A deeper and more troublesome onychia results from infection at +the nail-fold; the infection spreads slowly beneath the fold until it +reaches the matrix, and a drop or two of pus forms beneath the nail, +usually in the region of the lunule. This affection entails a +disability of the finger which may last for weeks unless it is properly +treated. Treatment by hyperaemia, using a suction bell, should first be +tried, and, failing improvement, the nail-fold and lunule should be +frozen, and a considerable portion removed with the knife; if only a +small portion of the nail is removed, the opening is blocked by +granulations springing from the matrix. A new nail is formed, but it is +liable to be misshapen. + +_Tuberculous onychia_ is met with in children and adolescents. It +appears as a livid or red swelling at the root of the nail and spreading +around its margins. The epidermis, which is thin and shiny, gives way, +and the nail is usually shed. + +[Illustration: FIG. 107.--Subungual Exostosis growing from Distal +Phalanx of Great Toe, showing Ulceration of Skin and Displacement of +Nail. + +_a._ Surface view. _b._ On section.] + +_Syphilitic_ affections of the nails assume various aspects. A primary +chancre at the edge of the nail may be mistaken for a whitlow, +especially if it is attended with much pain. Other forms of onychia +occur during secondary syphilis simultaneously with the skin eruptions, +and may prove obstinate and lead to shedding of the nails. They also +occur in inherited syphilis. In addition to general treatment, an +ointment containing 5 per cent. of oleate of mercury should be applied +locally. + +_Ingrowing Toe-nail._--This is more accurately described as an +overgrowth of the soft tissues along the edge of the nail. It is most +frequently met with in the great toe in young adults with flat-foot +whose feet perspire freely, who wear ill-fitting shoes, and who cut +their toe-nails carelessly or tear them with their fingers. Where the +soft tissues are pressed against the edge of the nail, the skin gives +way and there is the formation of exuberant granulations and of +discharge which is sometimes foetid. The affection is a painful one and +may unfit the patient for work. In mild cases the condition may be +remedied by getting rid of contributing causes and by disinfecting the +skin and nail; the nail is cut evenly, and the groove between it and the +skin packed with an antiseptic dusting-powder, such as boracic acid. In +more severe cases it may be necessary to remove an ellipse of tissue +consisting of the edge of the nail, together with the subjacent matrix +and the redundant nail-fold. + +_Subungual exostosis_ is an osteoma growing from the terminal phalanx of +the great toe (Fig. 107). It raises the nail and may be accompanied by +ulceration of the skin over the most prominent part of the growth. The +soft parts, including the nail, should be reflected towards the dorsum +in the form of a flap, the base of the exostosis divided with the +chisel, and the exostosis removed. + +_Malignant disease_ in relation to the nails is rare. Squamous +epithelioma and melanotic cancer are the forms met with. Treatment +consists in amputating the digit concerned, and in removing the +associated lymph glands. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE MUSCLES, TENDONS, AND TENDON SHEATHS + + +INJURIES: _Contusion_; _Sprain_; _Rupture_--Hernia of + muscle--Dislocation of tendons--Wounds--Avulsion of tendon. + DISEASES OF MUSCLE AND OF TENDONS: _Atrophy_; _"Muscular + rheumatism"_--_Fibrositis_; _Contracture_; _Myositis_; + _Calcification and Ossification_; _Tumours_. DISEASES OF TENDON + SHEATHS: _Teno-synovitis_. + + +INJURIES + +#Contusion of Muscle.#--Contusion of muscle, which consists in bruising +of its fibres and blood vessels, may be due to violence acting from +without, as in a blow, a kick, or a fall; or from within, as by the +displacement of bone in a fracture or dislocation. + +The symptoms are those common to all contusions, and the patient +complains of severe pain on attempting to use the muscle, and maintains +an attitude which relaxes it. If the sheath of the muscle also is torn, +there is subcutaneous ecchymosis, and the accumulation of blood may +result in the formation of a haematoma. + +Restoration of function is usually complete; but when the nerve +supplying the muscle is bruised at the same time, as may occur in the +deltoid, wasting and loss of function may be persistent. In exceptional +cases the process of repair may be attended with the formation of bone +in the substance of the muscle, and this may likewise impair its +function. + +A contused muscle should be placed at rest and supported by cotton wool +and a bandage; after an interval, massage and appropriate exercises are +employed. + +#Sprain and Partial Rupture of Muscle.#--This lesion consists in +overstretching and partial rupture of the fibres of a muscle or its +aponeurosis. It is of common occurrence in athletes and in those who +follow laborious occupations. It may follow upon a single or repeated +effort--especially in those who are out of training. Familiar examples +of muscular sprain are the "labourer's" or "golfer's back," affecting +the latissimus dorsi or the sacrospinalis (erector spinae); the +"tennis-player's elbow," and the "sculler's sprain," affecting the +muscles and ligaments about the elbow; the "angler's elbow," affecting +the common origin of the extensors and supinators; the "sprinter's +sprain," affecting the flexors of the hip; and the "jumper's and +dancer's sprain," affecting the muscles of the calf. The patient +complains of pain, often sudden in onset, of tenderness on pressure, and +of inability to carry out the particular movement by which the sprain +was produced. The disability varies in different cases, and it may +incapacitate the patient from following his occupation or sport for +weeks or, if imperfectly treated, even for months. + +The _treatment_ consists in resting the muscle from the particular +effort concerned in the production of the sprain, in gently exercising +it in other directions, in the use of massage, and the induction of +hyperaemia by means of heat. In neglected cases, that is, where the +muscle has not been exercised, the patient shrinks from using it and the +disablement threatens to be permanent; it is sometimes said that +adhesions have formed and that these interfere with the recovery of +function. The condition may be overcome by graduated movements or by a +sudden forcible movement under an anaesthetic. These cases afford a +fruitful field for the bone-setter. + +#Rupture of Muscle or Tendon.#--A muscle or a tendon may be ruptured in +its continuity or torn from its attachment to bone. The site of rupture +in individual muscles is remarkably constant, and is usually at the +junction of the muscular and tendinous portions. When rupture takes +place through the belly of a muscle, the ends retract, the amount of +retraction depending on the length of the muscle, and the extent of its +attachment to adjacent aponeurosis or bone. The biceps in the arm, and +the sartorius in the thigh, furnish examples of muscles in which the +separation between the ends may be considerable. + +The gap in the muscle becomes filled with blood, and this in time is +replaced by connective tissue, which forms a bond of union between the +ends. When the space is considerable the connecting medium consists of +fibrous tissue, but when the ends are in contact it contains a number of +newly formed muscle fibres. In the process of repair, one or both ends +of the muscle or tendon may become fixed by adhesions to adjacent +structures, and if the distal portion of a muscle is deprived of its +nerve supply it may undergo degeneration and so have its function +impaired. + +Rupture of a muscle or tendon is usually the result of a sudden, and +often involuntary, movement. As examples may be cited the rupture of +the quadriceps extensor in attempting to regain the balance when falling +backwards; of the gastrocnemius, plantaris, or tendo-calcaneus in +jumping or dancing; of the adductors of the thigh in gripping a horse +when it swerves--"rider's sprain"; of the abdominal muscles in vomiting, +and of the biceps in sudden movements of the arm. Sometimes the effort +is one that would scarcely be thought likely to rupture a muscle, as in +the case recorded by Pagenstecher, where a professional athlete, while +sitting at table, ruptured his biceps in a sudden effort to catch a +falling glass. It would appear that the rupture is brought about not so +much by the contraction of the muscle concerned, as by the contraction +of the antagonistic muscles taking place before that of the muscle which +undergoes rupture is completed. The violent muscular contractions of +epilepsy, tetanus, or delirium rarely cause rupture. + +The _clinical features_ are usually characteristic. The patient +experiences a sudden pain, with the sensation of being struck with a +whip, and of something giving way; sometimes a distant snap is heard. +The limb becomes powerless. At the seat of rupture there is tenderness +and swelling, and there may be ecchymosis. As the swelling subsides, a +gap may be felt between the retracted ends, and this becomes wider when +the muscle is thrown into contraction. If untreated, a hard, fibrous +cord remains at the seat of rupture. + +_Treatment._--The ends are approximated by placing the limb in an +attitude which relaxes the muscle, and the position is maintained by +bandages, splints, or special apparatus. When it is impossible thus to +approximate the ends satisfactorily, the muscle or tendon is exposed by +incision, and the ends brought into accurate contact by catgut sutures. +This operation of primary suture yields the most satisfactory results, +and is most successful when it is done within five or six days of the +accident. Secondary suture after an interval of months is rendered +difficult by the retraction of the ends and by their adhesion to +adjacent structures. + +_Rupture of the biceps of the arm_ may involve the long or the short +head, or the belly of the muscle. Most interest attaches to rupture of +the long tendon of origin. There is pain and tenderness in front of the +upper end of the humerus, the patient is unable to abduct or to elevate +the arm, and he may be unable to flex the elbow when the forearm is +supinated. The long axis of the muscle, instead of being parallel with +the humerus, inclines downwards and outwards. When the patient is asked +to contract the muscle, its belly is seen to be drawn towards the +elbow. + +The _adductor longus_ may be ruptured, or torn from the pubes, by a +violent effort to adduct the limb. A swelling forms in the upper and +medial part of the thigh, which becomes smaller and harder when the +muscle is thrown into contraction. + +The _quadriceps femoris_ is usually ruptured close to its insertion into +the patella, in the attempt to avoid falling backwards. The injury is +sometimes bilateral. The injured limb is rendered useless for +progression, as it suddenly gives way whenever the knee is flexed. +Treatment is conducted on the same lines as in transverse fracture of +the patella; in the majority of cases the continuity of the quadriceps +should be re-established by suture within five or six days of the +accident. + +The _tendo calcaneus_ (Achillis) is comparatively easily ruptured, and +the symptoms are sometimes so slight that the nature of the injury may +be overlooked. The limb should be put up with the knee flexed and the +toes pointed. This may be effected by attaching one end of an elastic +band to the heel of a slipper, and securing the other to the lower third +of the thigh. If this is not sufficient to bring the ends into +apposition they should be approximated by an open operation. + +The _plantaris_ is not infrequently ruptured from trivial causes, such +as a sudden movement in boxing, tennis, or hockey. A sharp stinging pain +like the stroke of a whip is felt in the calf; there is marked +tenderness at the seat of rupture, and the patient is unable to raise +the heel without pain. The injury is of little importance, and if the +patient does not raise the heel from the ground in walking, it is +recovered from in a couple of weeks or so, without it being necessary to +lay him up. + +#Hernia of Muscle.#--This is a rare condition, in which, owing to the +fascia covering a muscle becoming stretched or torn, the muscular +substance is protruded through the rent. It has been observed chiefly in +the adductor longus. An oval swelling forms in the upper part of the +thigh, is soft and prominent when the muscle is relaxed, less prominent +when it is passively extended, and disappears when the muscle is thrown +into contraction. It is liable to be mistaken, according to its +situation, for a tumour, a cyst, a pouched vein, or a femoral or +obturator hernia. Treatment is only called for when it is causing +inconvenience, the muscle being exposed by a suitable incision, the +herniated portion excised, and the rent in the sheath closed by sutures. + +#Dislocation of Tendons.#--Tendons which run in grooves may be displaced +as a result of rupture of the confining sheath. This injury is met with +chiefly in the tendons at the ankle and in the long tendon of the +biceps. + +Dislocation of the _peronei tendons_ may occur, for example, from a +violent twist of the foot. There is severe pain and considerable +swelling on the lateral aspect of the ankle; the peroneus longus by +itself, or together with the brevis, can be felt on the lateral aspect +or in front of the lateral malleolus; the patient is unable to move the +foot. By a little manipulation the tendons are replaced in their +grooves, and are retained there by a series of strips of plaster. At the +end of three weeks massage and exercises are employed. + +In other cases there is no history of injury, but whenever the foot is +everted the tendon of the peroneus longus is liable to be jerked +forwards out of its groove, sometimes with an audible snap. The patient +suffers pain and is disabled until the tendon is replaced. Reduction is +easy, but as the displacement tends to recur, an operation is required +to fix the tendon in its place. An incision is made over the tendon; if +the sheath is slack or torn, it is tightened up or closed with catgut +sutures; or an artificial sheath is made by raising up a quadrilateral +flap of periosteum from the lateral aspect of the fibula, and stitching +it over the tendon. + +Similarly the _tibialis posterior_ may be displaced over the medial +malleolus as a result of inversion of the foot. + +The _long tendon of the biceps_ may be dislocated laterally--or more +frequently medially--as a result of violent or repeated rotation +movements of the arm, such as are performed in wringing clothes. The +patient is aware of the displacement taking place, and is unable to +extend the forearm until the displaced tendon has been reduced by +abducting the arm. In recurrent cases the patient may be able to +dislocate the tendon at will, but the disability is so inconsiderable +that there is rarely any occasion for interference. + +#Wounds of Muscles and Tendons.#--When a muscle is cut across in a +wound, its ends should be brought together with sutures. If the ends are +allowed to retract, and especially if the wound suppurates, they become +united by scar tissue and fixed to bone or other adjacent structure. In +a limb this interferes with the functions of the muscle; in the +abdominal wall the scar tissue may stretch, and so favour the +development of a ventral hernia. + +Tendons may be cut across accidentally, especially in those wounds so +commonly met with above the wrist as a result, for example, of the hand +being thrust through a pane of glass. It is essential that the ends +should be sutured to each other, and as the proximal end is retracted +the original wound may require to be enlarged in an upward direction. +When primary suture has been omitted, or has failed in consequence of +suppuration, the separated ends of the tendon become adherent to +adjacent structures, and the function of the associated muscle is +impaired or lost. Under these conditions the operation of secondary +suture is indicated. + +A free incision is necessary to discover and isolate the ends of the +tendon; if the interval is too wide to admit of their being approximated +by sutures, means must be taken to lengthen the tendon, or one from some +other part may be inserted in the gap. A new sheath may be provided for +the tendon by resecting a portion of the great saphenous vein. + +_Injuries of the tendons of the fingers_ are comparatively common. One +of the best known is the partial or complete rupture of the aponeurosis +of the extensor tendon close to its insertion into the terminal +phalanx--_drop-_ or _mallet-finger_. This may result from comparatively +slight violence, such as striking the tip of the extended finger against +an object, or the violence may be more severe, as in attempting to catch +a cricket ball or in falling. The terminal phalanx is flexed towards the +palm and the patient is unable to extend it. The treatment consists in +putting up the finger with the middle joint strongly flexed. In +neglected cases, a perfect functional result can only be obtained by +operation; under a local anaesthetic, the ruptured tendon is exposed and +is sutured to the base of the phalanx, which may be drilled for the +passage of the sutures. + +_Subcutaneous rupture_ of one or other _of the digital tendons_ in the +hand or at the wrist can be remedied only by operation. When some time +has elapsed since the accident, the proximal end may be so retracted +that it cannot be brought down into contact with the distal end, in +which case a slip may be taken from an adjacent tendon; in the case of +one of the extensors of the thumb, the extensor carpi radialis longus +may be detached from its insertion and stitched to the distal end of the +tendon of the thumb. + +Subcutaneous _rupture of the tendon of the extensor pollicis longus_ at +the wrist takes place just after its emergence from beneath the annular +ligament; the actual rupture may occur painlessly, more frequently a +sharp pain is felt over the back of the wrist. The prominence of the +tendon, which normally forms the ulnar border of the snuff-box, +disappears. This lesion is chiefly met with in drummer-boys and is the +cause of drummer's palsy. The only chance of restoring function is in +uniting the ruptured tendon by open operation. + +[Illustration: FIG. 108.--Avulsion of Tendon with Terminal Phalanx of +Thumb. + +(Surgical Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + +_Avulsion of Tendons._--This is a rare injury, in which the tendons of a +finger or toe are torn from their attachments along with a portion of +the digit concerned. In the hand, it is usually brought about by the +fingers being caught in the reins of a runaway horse, or being seized in +a horse's teeth, or in machinery. It is usually the terminal phalanx +that is separated, and with it the tendon of the deep flexor, which +ruptures at its junction with the belly of the muscle (Fig. 108). The +treatment consists in disinfecting the wound, closing the tendon-sheath, +and trimming the mutilated finger so as to provide a useful stump. + + +DISEASES OF MUSCLES AND TENDONS + +_Congenital absence_ of muscles is sometimes met with, usually in +association with other deformities. The pectoralis major, for example, +may be absent on one or on both sides, without, however, causing any +disability, as other muscles enlarge and take on its functions. + +_Atrophy of Muscle._--Simple atrophy, in which the muscle elements are +merely diminished in size without undergoing any structural alteration, +is commonly met with as a result of disuse, as when a patient is +confined to bed for a long period. + +In cases of joint disease, the muscles acting on the joint become +atrophied more rapidly than is accounted for by disuse alone, and this +is attributed to an interference with the trophic innervation of the +muscles reflected from centres in the spinal medulla. It is more marked +in the extensor than in the flexor groups of muscles. Those affected +become soft and flaccid, exhibit tremors on attempted movement, and +their excitability to the faradic current is diminished. + +_Neuropathic atrophy_ is associated with lesions of the nervous system. +It is most pronounced in lesions of the motor nerve-trunks, probably +because vaso-motor and trophic fibres are involved as well as those that +are purely motor in function. It is attended with definite structural +alterations, the muscle elements first undergoing fatty degeneration, +and then being absorbed, and replaced to a large extent by ordinary +connective tissue and fat. At a certain stage the muscles exhibit the +reaction of degeneration. In the common form of paralysis resulting from +poliomyelitis, many fibres undergo fatty degeneration and are replaced +by fat, while at the same time there is a regeneration of muscle fibres. + +#Fibrositis# or "#Muscular Rheumatism#."--This clinical term is applied +to a group of affections of which lumbago is the best-known example. The +group includes lumbago, stiff-neck, and pleurodynia--conditions which +have this in common, that sudden and severe pain is excited by movement +of the affected part. The lesion consists in inflammatory hyperplasia of +the connective tissue; the new tissue differs from normal fibrous tissue +in its tendency to contract, in being swollen, painful and tender on +pressure, and in the fact that it can be massaged away (Stockman). It +would appear to involve mainly the fibrous tissue of muscles, although +it may extend from this to aponeuroses, ligaments, periosteum, and the +sheaths of nerves. The term _fibrositis_ was applied to it by Gowers in +1904. + +In _lumbago_--_lumbo-sacral fibrositis_--the pain is usually located +over the sacrum, the sacro-iliac joint, or the aponeurosis of the lumbar +muscles on one or both sides. The amount of tenderness varies, and so +long as the patient is still he is free from pain. The slightest +attempt to alter his position, however, is attended by pain, which may +be so severe as to render him helpless for the moment. The pain is most +marked on rising from the stooping or sitting posture, and may extend +down the back of the hip, especially if, as is commonly the case, +lumbago and gluteal fibrosis coexist. Once a patient has suffered from +lumbago, it is liable to recur, and an attack may be determined by +errors of diet, changes of weather, exposure to cold or unwonted +exertion. It is met with chiefly in male adults, and is most apt to +occur in those who are gouty or are the subjects of oxaluric dyspepsia. + +_Gluteal fibrositis_ usually follows exposure to wet, and affects the +gluteal muscles, particularly the medius, and their aponeurotic +coverings. When the condition has lasted for some time, indurated +strands or nodules can be detected on palpating the relaxed muscles. The +patient complains of persistent aching and stiffness over the buttock, +and sometimes extending down the lateral aspect of the thigh. The pain +is aggravated by such movements as bring the affected muscles into +action. It is not referred to the line of the sciatic nerve, nor is +there tenderness on pressing over the nerve, or sensations of tingling +or numbness in the leg or foot. + +If untreated, the morbid process may implicate the sheath of the sciatic +nerve and cause genuine sciatic neuralgia (Llewellyn and Jones). A +similar condition may implicate the fascia lata of the thigh, or the +calf muscles and their aponeuroses--_crural fibrositis_. + +In _painful stiff-neck_, or "rheumatic torticollis," the pain is located +in one side of the neck, and is excited by some inadvertent movement. +The head is held stiffly on one side as in wry-neck, the patient +contracting the sterno-mastoid. There may be tenderness over the +vertebral spines or in the lines of the cervical nerves, and the +sterno-mastoid may undergo atrophy. This affection is more often met +with in children. + +In _pleurodynia_--_intercostal fibrositis_--the pain is in the line of +the intercostal nerves, and is excited by movement of the chest, as in +coughing, or by any bodily exertion. There is often marked tenderness. + +A similar affection is met with in the _shoulder and arm_--_brachial +fibrositis_--especially on waking from sleep. There is acute pain on +attempting to abduct the arm, and there may be localised tenderness in +the region of the axillary nerve. + +_Treatment._--The general treatment is concerned with the diet, +attention to the stomach, bowels, and kidneys and with the correction +of any gouty tendencies that may be present. Remedies such as +salicylates are given for the relief of pain, and for this purpose drugs +of the aspirin type are to be preferred, and these may be followed by +large doses of iodide of potassium. Great benefit is derived from +massage, and from the induction of hyperaemia by means of heat. Cupping +or needling, or, in exceptional cases, hypodermic injections of +antipyrin or morphin, may be called for. To prevent relapses of lumbago, +the patient must take systematic exercises of all kinds, especially such +as bring out the movements of the vertebral column and hip-joints. + +[Illustration: FIG. 109.--Volkmann's Ischaemic Contracture. When the +wrist is flexed to a right angle it is possible to extend the fingers. + +(Photographs lent by Mr. Lawford Knaggs)] + +#Contracture of Muscles.#--Permanent shortening of muscles results from +the prolonged approximation of their points of attachment, or from +structural changes in their substance produced by injury or by disease. +It is a frequent accompaniment and sometimes a cause of deformities, in +the treatment of which lengthening of the shortened muscles or their +tendons may be an essential step. + +#Myositis.#--_Ischaemic Myositis._--Volkmann was the first to describe a +form of myositis followed by contracture, resulting from interference +with the arterial blood supply. It is most frequently observed in the +flexor muscles of the forearm in children and young persons under +treatment for fractures in the region of the elbow, the splints and +bandages causing compression of the blood vessels. There is considerable +effusion of blood, the skin is tense, and the muscles, vessels, and +nerves are compressed; this is further increased if the elbow is flexed +and splints and tight bandages are applied. The muscles acquire a +board-like hardness and no longer contract under the will, and passive +motion is painful and restricted. Slight contracture of the fingers is +usually the first sign of the malady; in time the muscles undergo +further contraction, and this brings about a claw-like deformity of the +hand. The affected muscles usually show the reaction of degeneration. In +severe cases the median and ulnar nerves are also the seat of +cicatricial changes (ischaemic neuritis). + +By means of splints, the interphalangeal, metacarpo-phalangeal, and +wrist joints should be gradually extended until the deformity is +over-corrected (R. Jones). Murphy advises resection of the radius and +ulna sufficient to admit of dorsiflexion of the joints and lengthening +of the flexor tendons. + +Various forms of _pyogenic_ infection are met with in muscle, most +frequently in relation to pyaemia and to typhoid fever. These may result +in overgrowth of the connective-tissue framework of the muscle and +degeneration of its fibres, or in suppuration and the formation of one +or more abscesses in the muscle substance. Repair may be associated with +contracture. + +A _gonorrhoeal_ form of myositis is sometimes met with; it is painful, +but rarely goes on to suppuration. + +In the early secondary period of _syphilis_, the muscles may be the seat +of dull, aching, nocturnal pains, especially in the neck and back. +_Syphilitic contracture_ is a condition which has been observed chiefly +in the later secondary period; the biceps of the arm and the hamstrings +in the thigh are the muscles more commonly affected. The striking +feature is a gradually increasing difficulty of extending the limb at +the elbow or knee, and progressive flexion of the joint. The affected +muscle is larger and firmer than normal, and its electric excitability +is diminished. In tertiary syphilis, individual muscles may become the +seat of interstitial myositis or of gummata, and these affections +readily yield to anti-syphilitic remedies. + +_Tuberculous disease_ in muscle, while usually due to extension from +adjacent tissues, is sometimes the result of a primary infection through +the blood-stream. Tuberculous nodules are found disseminated throughout +the muscle; the surrounding tissues are indurated, and central caseation +may take place and lead to abscess formation and sinuses. We have +observed this form of tuberculous disease in the gastrocnemius and in +the psoas--in the latter muscle apart from tuberculous disease in the +vertebrae. + +#Tendinitis.#--German authors describe an inflammation of tendon as +distinguished from inflammation of its sheath, and give it the name +tendinitis. It is met with most frequently in the tendo-calcaneus in +gouty and rheumatic subjects who have overstrained the tendon, +especially during cold and damp weather. There is localised pain which +is aggravated by walking, and the tendon is sensitive and swollen from a +little above its insertion to its junction with the muscle. Gouty +nodules may form in its substance. Constitutional measures, massage, and +douching should be employed, and the tendon should be protected from +strain. + +#Calcification and Ossification in Muscles, Tendons, and +Fasciae.#--_Myositis ossificans._--Ossifications in muscles, tendons, +fasciae, and ligaments, in those who are the subjects of arthritis +deformans, are seldom recognised clinically, but are frequently met with +in dissecting-rooms and museums. Similar localised ossifications are met +with in Charcot's disease of joints, and in fractures which have +repaired with exuberant callus. The new bone may be in the form of +spicules, plates, or irregular masses, which, when connected with a +bone, are called _false exostoses_ (Fig. 110). + +[Illustration: FIG. 110.--Ossification in Tendon of Ilio-psoas Muscle.] + +_Traumatic Ossification in Relation to Muscle._--Various forms of +ossification are met with in muscle as the result of a single or of +repeated injury. Ossification in the crureus or vastus lateralis muscle +has been frequently observed as a result of a kick from a horse. Within +a week or two a swelling appears at the site of injury, and becomes +progressively harder until its consistence is that of bone. If the mass +of new bone moves with the affected muscle, it causes little +inconvenience. If, as is commonly the case, it is fixed to the femur, +the action of the muscle is impaired, and the patient complains of pain +and difficulty in flexing the knee. A skiagram shows the extent of the +mass and its relationship to the femur. The treatment consists in +excising the bony mass. + +Difficulty may arise in differentiating such a mass of bone from +sarcoma; the ossification in muscle is uniformly hard, while the sarcoma +varies in consistence at different parts, and the X-ray picture shows a +clear outline of the bone in the vicinity of the ossification in +muscle, whereas in sarcoma the involvement of the bone is shown by +indentations and irregularity in its contour. + +A similar ossification has been observed in relation to the insertion of +the brachialis muscle as a sequel of dislocation of the elbow. After +reduction of the dislocation, the range of movement gradually diminishes +and a hard swelling appears in front of the lower end of the humerus. +The lump continues to increase in size and in three to four weeks the +disability becomes complete. A radiogram shows a shadow in the muscle, +attached at one part as a rule to the coronoid process. During the next +three or four months, the lump in front of the elbow remains stationary +in size; a gradual decrease then ensues, but the swelling persists, as a +rule, for several years. + +[Illustration: FIG. 111.--Calcification and Ossification in Biceps and +Triceps. + +(From a radiogram lent by Dr. C. A. Adair Dighton.)] + +Ossification in the adductor longus was first described by Billroth +under the name of "rider's bone." It follows bruising and partial +rupture of the muscle, and has been observed chiefly in cavalry +soldiers. If it causes inconvenience the bone may be removed by +operation. + +Ossification in the deltoid and pectoral muscles has been observed in +foot-soldiers in the German army, and has received the name of +"drill-bone"; it is due to bruising of the muscle by the recoil of the +rifle. + +_Progressive Ossifying Myositis._--This is a rare and interesting +disease, in which the muscles, tendons, and fasciae throughout the body +become the seat of ossification. It affects almost exclusively the male +sex, and usually begins in childhood or youth, sometimes after an +injury, sometimes without apparent cause. The muscles of the back, +especially the trapezius and latissimus, are the first to be affected, +and the initial complaint is limitation of movement. + +[Illustration: FIG. 112.--Ossification in Muscles of Trunk in a case of +generalised Ossifying Myositis. + +(Photograph lent by Dr. Rustomjee.)] + +The affected muscles show swellings which are rounded or oval, firm and +elastic, sharply defined, without tenderness and without discoloration +of the overlying skin. Skiagrams show that a considerable deposit of +lime salts may precede the formation of bone, as is seen in Fig. 111. In +course of time the vertebral column becomes rigid, the head is bent +forward, the hips are flexed, and abduction and other movements of the +arms are limited. The disease progresses by fits and starts, until all +the striped muscles of the body are replaced by bone, and all movements, +even those of the jaws, are abolished. The subjects of this disease +usually succumb to pulmonary tuberculosis. + +There is no means of arresting the disease, and surgical treatment is +restricted to the removal or division of any mass of bone that +interferes with an important movement. + +A remarkable feature of this disease is the frequent presence of a +deformity of the great toe, which usually takes the form of hallux +valgus, the great toe coming to lie beneath the second one; the +shortening is usually ascribed to absence of the first phalanx, but it +has been shown to depend also on a synostosis and imperfect development +of the phalanges. A similar deformity of the thumb is sometimes met +with. + +Microscopical examination of the muscles shows that, prior to the +deposition of lime salts and the formation of bone, there occurs a +proliferation of the intra-muscular connective tissue and a gradual +replacement and absorption of the muscle fibres. The bone is spongy in +character, and its development takes place along similar lines to those +observed in ossification from the periosteum. + +#Tumours of Muscle.#--With the exception of congenital varieties, such +as the rhabdomyoma, tumours of muscle grow from the connective-tissue +framework and not from the muscle fibres. Innocent tumours, such as the +fibroma, lipoma, angioma, and neuro-fibroma, are rare. Malignant tumours +may be primary in the muscle, or may result from extension from adjacent +growths--for example, implication of the pectoral muscle in cancer of +the breast--or they may be derived from tumours situated elsewhere. The +diagnosis of an intra-muscular tumour is made by observing that the +swelling is situated beneath the deep fascia, that it becomes firm and +fixed when the muscle contracts, and that, when the muscle is relaxed, +it becomes softer, and can be moved in the transverse axis of the +muscle, but not in its long axis. + +Clinical interest attaches to that form of slowly growing +fibro-sarcoma--_the recurrent fibroid of Paget_--which is most +frequently met with in the muscles of the abdominal wall. A rarer +variety is the ossifying chondro-sarcoma, which undergoes ossification +to such an extent as to be visible in skiagrams. + +In primary sarcoma the treatment consists in removing the muscle. In the +limbs, the function of the muscle that is removed may be retained by +transplanting an adjacent muscle in its place. + +_Hydatid cysts_ of muscle resemble those developing in other tissues. + + +DISEASES OF TENDON SHEATHS + +Tendon sheaths have the same structure and function as the synovial +membranes of joints, and are liable to the same diseases. Apart from the +tendon sheaths displayed in anatomical dissections, there is a loose +peritendinous and perimuscular cellular tissue which is subject to the +same pathological conditions as the tendon sheaths proper. + +#Teno-synovitis.#--The toxic or infective agent is conveyed to the +tendon sheaths through the blood-stream, as in the gouty, gonorrhoeal, +and tuberculous varieties, or is introduced directly through a wound, as +in the common pyogenic form of teno-synovitis. + +_Teno-synovitis Crepitans._--In the simple or traumatic form of +teno-synovitis, although the most prominent etiological factor is a +strain or over-use of the tendon, there would appear to be some other, +probably a toxic, factor in its production, otherwise the affection +would be much more common than it is: only a small proportion of those +who strain or over-use their tendons become the subjects of +teno-synovitis. The opposed surfaces of the tendon and its sheath are +covered with fibrinous lymph, so that there is friction when they move +on one another. + +The _clinical features_ are pain on movement, tenderness on pressure +over the affected tendon, and a sensation of crepitation or friction +when the tendon is moved in its sheath. The crepitation may be soft like +the friction of snow, or may resemble the creaking of new +leather--"saddle-back creaking." There may be swelling in the long axis +of the tendon, and redness and oedema of the skin. If there is an +effusion of fluid into the sheath, the swelling is more marked and +crepitation is absent. There is little tendency to the formation of +adhesions. + +In the upper extremity, the sheath of the long tendon of the biceps may +be affected, but the condition is most common in the tendons about the +wrist, particularly in the extensors of the thumb, and it is most +frequently met with in those who follow occupations which involve +prolonged use or excessive straining of these tendons--for example, +washerwomen or riveters. It also occurs as a result of excessive +piano-playing, fencing, or rowing. + +At the ankle it affects the peronei, the extensor digitorum longus, or +the tibialis anterior. It is most often met with in relation to the +tendo-calcaneus--_Achillo-dynia_--and results from the pressure of +ill-fitting boots or from the excessive use and strain of the tendon in +cycling, walking, or dancing. There is pain in raising the heel from the +ground, and creaking can be felt on palpation. + +The _treatment_ consists in putting the affected tendon at rest, and +with this object a splint may be helpful; the usual remedies for +inflammation are indicated: Bier's hyperaemia, lead and opium +fomentations, and ichthyol and glycerine. The affection readily subsides +under treatment, but is liable to relapse on a repetition of the +exciting cause. + +_Gouty Teno-synovitis._--A deposit of urate of soda beneath the +endothelial covering of tendons or of that lining their sheaths is +commonly met with in gouty subjects. The accumulation of urates may +result in the formation of visible nodular swellings, varying in size +from a pea to a cherry, attached to the tendon and moving with it. They +may be merely unsightly, or they may interfere with the use of the +tendon. Recurrent attacks of inflammation are prone to occur. We have +removed such gouty masses with satisfactory results. + +_Suppurative Teno-synovitis._--This form usually follows upon infected +wounds of the fingers--especially of the thumb or little finger--and is +a frequent sequel to whitlow; it may also follow amputation of a finger. +Once the infection has gained access to the sheath, it tends to spread, +and may reach the palm or even the forearm, being then associated with +cellulitis. In moderately acute cases the tendon and its sheath become +covered with granulations, which subsequently lead to the formation of +adhesions; while in more acute cases the tendon sloughs. The pus may +burst into the cellular tissue outside the sheath, and the suppuration +is liable to spread to neighbouring sheaths or to adjacent bones or +joints--for example, those of the wrist. + +The _treatment_ consists in inducing hyperaemia and making small +incisions for the escape of pus. The site of incision is determined by +the point of greatest tenderness on pressure. After the inflammation has +subsided, active and passive movements are employed to prevent the +formation of adhesions between the tendon and its sheath. If the tendon +sloughs, the dead portion should be cut away, as its separation is +extremely slow and is attended with prolonged suppuration. + +_Gonorrhoeal Teno-synovitis._--This is met with especially in the tendon +sheaths about the wrist and ankle. It may occur in a mild form, with +pain, impairment of movement, and oedema, and sometimes an elongated, +fluctuating swelling, the result of serous effusion into the sheath. +This condition may alternate with a gonorrhoeal affection of one of the +larger joints. It may subside under rest and soothing applications, but +is liable to relapse. In the more severe variety the skin is red, and +the swelling partakes of the characters of a phlegmon with threatening +suppuration; it may result in crippling from adhesions. Even if pus +forms in the sheath, the tendon rarely sloughs. The treatment consists +in inducing hyperaemia by Bier's method; and a vaccine may be employed +with satisfactory results. + +#Tuberculous Disease of Tendon Sheaths.#--This is a comparatively common +affection, and is analogous to tuberculous disease of the synovial +membrane of joints. It may originate in the sheath, or may spread to it +from an adjacent bone. + +The commonest form--hydrops--is that in which the synovial sheath is +distended with a viscous fluid, and the fibrinous material on the free +surface becomes detached and is moulded into melon-seed bodies by the +movement of the tendon. The sheath itself is thickened by the growth of +tuberculous granulation tissue. The bodies are smooth and of a +dull-white colour, and vary greatly in size and shape. There may be an +overgrowth of the fatty fringes of the synovial sheath, a condition +described as "arborescent lipoma." + +The _clinical features_ vary with the tendon sheath affected. In the +common flexor sheath of the hand an hour-glass-shaped swelling is +formed, bulging above and below the transverse carpal (anterior annular) +ligament--formerly known as _compound palmar ganglion_. There is little +or no pain, but the fingers tend to be stiff and weak, and to become +flexed. On palpation, it is usually possible to displace the contents of +the sheath from one compartment to the other, and this may yield +fluctuation, and, what is more characteristic, a peculiar soft crepitant +sensation from the movement of the melon-seed bodies. In the sheath of +the peronei or other tendons about the ankle, the swelling is +sausage-shaped, and is constricted opposite the annular ligament. + +The onset and progress of the affection are most insidious, and the +condition may remain stationary for long periods. It is aggravated by +use or strain of the tendons involved. In exceptional cases the skin is +thinned and gives way, resulting in the formation of a sinus. + +_Treatment._--In the common flexor sheath of the palm, an attempt may be +made to cure the condition by removing the contents through a small +incision and filling the cavity with iodoform glycerine, followed by the +use of Bier's bandage. If this fails, the distended sheath is laid open, +the contents removed, the wall scraped, and the wound closed. + +A less common form of tuberculous disease is that in which the sheath +becomes the seat of _a diffuse tuberculous thickening_, not unlike the +white swelling met with in joints, and with a similar tendency to +caseation. A painless swelling of an elastic character forms in relation +to the tendon sheath. It is hour-glass-shaped in the common flexor +sheath of the palm, elongated or sausage-shaped in the extensors of the +wrist and in the tendons at the ankle. The tuberculous granulation +tissue is liable to break down and lead to the formation of a cold +abscess and sinuses, and in our experience is often associated with +disease in an adjacent bone or joint. In the peronei tendons, for +example, it may result from disease of the fibula or of the ankle-joint. + +When conservative measures fail, excision of the affected sheath should +be performed; the whole of the diseased area being exposed by free +incision of the overlying soft parts, the sheath is carefully isolated +from the surrounding tissues and is cut across above and below. Any +tuberculous tissue on the tendon itself is removed with a sharp spoon. +Associated bone or joint lesions are dealt with at the same time. In the +after-treatment the functions of the tendons must be preserved by +voluntary and passive movements. + +#Syphilitic Affections of Tendon Sheaths.#--These closely resemble the +syphilitic affections of the synovial membrane of joints. During the +secondary period the lesion usually consists in effusion into the +sheath; gummata are met with during the tertiary period. + +Arborescent lipoma has been found in the sheaths of tendons about the +wrist and ankle, sometimes in a multiple and symmetrical form, +unattended by symptoms and disappearing under anti-syphilitic treatment. + +#Tumours of Tendon Sheaths.#--Innocent tumours, such as _lipoma_, +_fibroma_, and _myxoma_, are rare. Special mention should be made of the +_myeloma_ which is met with at the wrist or ankle as an elongated +swelling of slow development, or over the phalanx of a finger as a small +rounded swelling. The tumour tissue, when exposed by dissection, is of a +chocolate or chamois-yellow colour, and consists almost entirely of +giant cells. The treatment consists in dissecting the tumour tissue off +the tendons, and this is usually successful in bringing about a +permanent cure. + +All varieties of _sarcoma_ are met with, but their origin from tendon +sheaths is not associated with special features. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE BURSAE + + +Anatomy--Normal and adventitious bursae--Injuries: Bursal + haematoma--DISEASES: Infective bursitis; Traumatic or trade + bursitis; Bursal hydrops; Solid bursal tumour; Gonorrhoeal and + suppurative forms of bursitis; Tuberculous and syphilitic + disease--Tumours--_Diseases of individual bursae in the upper and + lower extremities_. + +A bursa is a closed sac lined by endothelium and containing synovia. +Some are normally present--for instance, that between the skin and the +patella, and that between the aponeurosis of the gluteus maximus and the +great trochanter. _Adventitious bursae_ are developed as a result of +abnormal pressure--for example, over the tarsal bones in cases of +club-foot. + +#Injuries of Bursae.#--As a result of contusion, especially in bleeders, +haemorrhage may occur into the cavity of a bursa and give rise to a +_bursal haematoma_. Such a haematoma may mask a fracture of the bone +beneath--for example, fracture of the olecranon. + +#Diseases of Bursae.#--The lining membrane of bursae resembles that of +joints and tendon sheaths, and is liable to the same forms of disease. + +#Infective bursitis# frequently follows abrasions, scratches, and wounds +of the skin over the prepatellar or olecranon bursa, and in neglected +cases the infection transgresses the wall of the bursa and gives rise to +a spreading cellulitis. + +#Traumatic or Trade Bursitis.#--This term may be conveniently applied to +those affections of bursae which result from repeated slight traumatism +incident to particular occupations. The most familiar examples of these +are the enlargement of the prepatellar bursa met with in housemaids--the +"housemaid's knee" (Fig. 113); the enlargement of the olecranon +bursa--"miner's elbow"; and of the ischial bursa--"weaver's" or +"tailor's bottom" (Fig. 116). These affections are characterised by an +effusion of fluid into the sac of the bursa with thickening of its +lining membrane. While friction and pressure are the most evident +factors in their production, it is probable that there is also some +toxic agent concerned, otherwise these affections would be much more +common than they are. Of the countless housemaids in whom the +prepatellar bursa is subjected to friction and pressure, only a small +proportion become the subjects of housemaid's knee. + +_Clinical Features._--As these are best illustrated in the different +varieties of prepatellar bursitis, it is convenient to take this as the +type. In a number of cases the inflammation is acute and the patient is +unable to use the limb; the part is hot, swollen, and tender, and +fluctuation can be detected in the bursa. In the majority the condition +is chronic, and the chief feature is the gradual accumulation of fluid +constituting the _bursal hydrops_ or _hygroma_. When the affection has +lasted some time, or has frequently relapsed, the wall of the bursa +becomes thickened by fibrous tissue, which may be deposited irregularly, +so that septa, bands, or fringes are formed, not unlike those met with +in arthritis deformans. These fringes may be detached and form loose +bodies like those met with in joints; less frequently there are +fibrinous bodies of the melon-seed type, sometimes moulded into circular +discs like wafers. The presence of irregular thickenings of the wall, or +of loose bodies, may be recognised on palpation, especially in +superficial bursae, if the sac is not tensely filled with fluid. The +thickening of the wall may take place in a uniform and concentric +fashion, resulting in the formation of a fibrous tumour--_the solid +bursal tumour_--a small cavity remaining in the centre which serves to +distinguish it from a new growth or neoplasm. + +[Illustration: FIG. 113.--Hydrops of Prepatellar Bursa in a housemaid.] + +The _treatment_ varies according to the variety and stage of the +affection. In recent cases the symptoms subside under rest and the +application of fomentations. Hydrops may be got rid of by blistering, +by tapping, or by incision and drainage. When the wall is thickened, the +most satisfactory treatment is to excise the bursa; the overlying skin +being reflected in the shape of a horse-shoe flap or being removed along +with the bursa. + +#Other Diseases of Bursae# are associated with _gonorrhoeal infection_, +and with _rheumatism_, especially that following scarlet fever, and are +apt to be persistent or to relapse after apparent cure. In the _gouty_ +form, urate of soda is deposited in the wall of the bursa, and may +result in the formation of chalky tumours, sometimes of considerable +size (Fig. 114). + +[Illustration: FIG. 114.--Section through Bursa over external malleolus, +showing deposit of urate of soda. (Cf. Fig. 117.)] + +_Tuberculous disease_ of bursae closely resembles that of tendon sheaths. +It may occur as an independent affection, or may be associated with +disease in an adjacent bone or joint. It is met with chiefly in the +prepatellar and subdeltoid bursae, or in one of the bursae over the great +trochanter. The clinical features are those of an indolent hydrops, with +or without melon-seed bodies, or of uniform thickening of the wall of +the bursa; the tuberculous granulation tissue may break down into a cold +abscess, and give rise to sinuses. The best treatment is to excise the +affected bursa, or, when this is impracticable, to lay it freely open, +remove the tuberculous tissue with the sharp spoon or knife, and treat +the cavity by the open method. + +_Syphilitic disease_ is rarely recognised except in the form of bursal +and peri-bursal gummata in front of the knee-joint. + +_New growths_ include the fibroma, the myxoma, the myeloma or +giant-celled tumour, and various forms of sarcoma. + +#Diseases of Individual Bursae.#--The _olecranon bursa_ is frequently +the seat of pyogenic infection and of traumatic or trade bursitis, the +latter being known as "miner's" or "student's elbow." + +[Illustration: FIG. 115.--Tuberculous Disease of Sub-deltoid Bursa. + +(From a photograph lent by Sir George T. Beatson.)] + +The _sub-deltoid_ or _sub-acromial bursa_, which usually presents a +single cavity and does not normally communicate with the shoulder-joint, +is indispensable in abduction and rotation of the humerus. When the arm +is abducted, the fixed lower part or floor of the bursa is carried under +the acromion, and the upper part or roof is rolled up in the same +direction, hence tenderness over the inflamed bursa may disappear when +the arm is abducted (Dawbarn's sign). It is liable to traumatic +affections from a fall on the shoulder, pressure, or over-use of the +limb. Pain, located commonly at the insertion of the deltoid, is a +constant symptom and is especially annoying at night, the patient being +unable to get into a comfortable position. Tenderness may be elicited +over the anatomical limits of the bursa, and is usually most marked over +the great tuberosity, just external to the inter-tubercular (bicipital) +groove. When adhesions are present, abduction beyond 10 degrees is +impossible. Demonstrable effusion is not uncommon, but is disguised by +the overlying tissues. If left to himself, the patient tends to maintain +the limb in the "sling position," and resists movements in the direction +of abduction and rotation. In the treatment of this affection the arm +should be maintained at a right angle to the body, the arm being rotated +medially (Codman). When pain does not prevent it, movements of the arm +and massage are persevered with. In neglected cases, when adhesions have +formed and the shoulder is fixed, it may be necessary to break down the +adhesions under an anaesthetic. + +The bursa is also liable to infective conditions, such as acute +rheumatism, gonorrhoea, suppuration, or tubercle. In tuberculous disease +a large fluctuating swelling may form and acquire the characters of a +cold abscess (Fig. 115). + +The bursa underneath the tendon of the _subscapularis_ muscle when +inflamed causes alteration in the attitude of the shoulder and +impairment of its movements. + +An adventitious bursa forms over the _acromion_ process in porters and +others who carry weights on the shoulder, and may be the seat of +traumatic bursitis. + +The bursa under the _tendon of insertion of the biceps_, when the seat +of disease, is attended with pain and swelling about a finger's breadth +below the bend of the elbow; there is pain and difficulty in effecting +the combined movement of flexion and supination, slight limitation of +extension, and restriction of pronation. + +In the lower extremity, a large number of normal and adventitious bursae +are met with and may be the seat of bursitis. That over the _tuberosity +of the ischium_, when enlarged as a trade disease, is known as +"weaver's" or "tailor's bottom." It may form a fluctuating swelling of +great size, projecting on the buttock and extending down the thigh, and +causing great inconvenience in sitting (Fig. 116). It sometimes contains +a number of loose bodies. + +There are two bursae over the _great trochanter_, one superficial to, the +other beneath the aponeurosis of the gluteus maximus; the latter is not +infrequently infected by tuberculous disease that has spread from the +trochanter. + +The bursa _between the psoas muscle and the capsule of the hip-joint_ +may be the seat of tuberculous disease, and give rise to clinical +features not unlike those of disease of the hip-joint. The limb is +flexed, abducted and rotated out; there is a swelling in the upper part +of Scarpa's triangle, but the movements are not restricted in directions +which do not entail putting the ilio-psoas muscle on the stretch. + +Cartilaginous and partly ossified loose bodies may accumulate in the +ilio-psoas bursa and distend it, both in a downward direction towards +the hip-joint, with which it communicates, and upwards, projecting +towards the abdomen. + +The bursa beneath the quadriceps extensor--_subcrural bursa_--usually +communicates with the knee-joint and shares in its diseases. When shut +off from the joint it may suffer independently, and when distended with +fluid forms a horse-shoe swelling above the patella. + +In front of the patella and its ligament is the _prepatellar bursa_, +which may have one, two, or three compartments, usually communicating +with one another. It is the seat of the affection known as "housemaid's +knee," which is very common and is sometimes bilateral, and, less +frequently, of tuberculous disease which usually originates in the +patella. + +[Illustration: FIG. 116.--Great Enlargement of the Ischial Bursa. + +(Mr. Scot-Skirving's case.)] + +The bursa _between the ligamentum patellae and the tibia_ is rarely the +seat of disease. When it is, there is pain and tenderness referred to +the ligament, the patient is unable to extend the limb completely, the +tuberosity of the tibia is apparently enlarged, and there is a +fluctuating swelling on either side of the ligament, most marked in the +extended position of the limb. + +Of the numerous bursae in the popliteal space, that _between the +semi-membranosus and the medial head of the gastrocnemius_ is most +frequently the seat of disease, which is usually of the nature of a +simple hydrops, forming a fluctuating egg-or sausage-shaped swelling at +the medial side of the popliteal space. It is flaccid in the flexed, and +tense in the extended position. As a rule it causes little +inconvenience, and may be left alone. Otherwise it should be dissected +out, and if, as is frequently the case, there is a communication with +the knee-joint, this should be closed with sutures. + +[Illustration: FIG. 117.--Gouty Disease of Bursae in a tailor. The bursal +tumours were almost entirely composed of urate of soda. (Cf. Fig. 114.)] + +An adventitious bursa may form over the _lateral malleolus_, especially +in tailors, giving rise to the condition known as "tailor's ankle" +(Fig. 117). + +The bursa _between the tendo-calcaneus (Achillis) and the upper part of +the calcaneus_ may become inflamed--especially as a result of +post-scarlatinal rheumatism or gonorrhoea. The affection is known as +Achillo-bursitis. There is severe pain in the region of the insertion of +the tendo-calcaneus, the movements at the ankle-joint are restricted, +and the patient may be unable to walk. There is a tender swelling on +either side of the tendon. When, in spite of palliative treatment, the +affection persists or relapses, it is best to excise the bursa. The +tendo-calcaneus is detached from the calcaneus, the bursa dissected out, +and the tendon replaced. If there is a bony projection from the +calcaneus, it should be shaved off with the chisel. + +The bursa that is sometimes met with on the under aspect of the +calcaneus--_the subcalcanean bursa_--when inflamed, gives rise to pain +and tenderness in the sole of the foot. This affection may be associated +with a spinous projection from the bone, which is capable of being +recognised in a skiagram. The soft parts of the heel are turned forwards +as a flap, the bursa is dissected out, and the projection of bone, if +present, is removed. + +The enlargement of adventitious bursae over the head of the first +metatarsal in hallux valgus; over the tarsus, metatarsus, and digits in +the different forms of club-foot; over the angular projection in Pott's +disease of the spine; over the end of the bone in amputation stumps, and +over hard tumours such as chondroma and osteoma, are described +elsewhere. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +DISEASES OF BONE + + +Anatomy and physiology--Regeneration of bone--Transplantation of bone. + DISEASES OF BONE--Definition of terms--Pyogenic diseases: + _Acute osteomyelitis and periostitis_; _Chronic and relapsing + osteomyelitis_; _Abscess of bone_--Tuberculous disease--Syphilitic + disease--Hydatids; Rickets; Osteomalacia--Ostitis deformans of + Paget--Osteomyelitis fibrosa--Affections of bones in diseases of + the nervous system--Fragilitas ossium--Tumours and cysts of bone. + +#Surgical Anatomy.#--During the period of growth, a long bone such as +the tibia consists of a shaft or _diaphysis_, and two extremities or +_epiphyses_. So long as growth continues there intervenes between the +shaft and each of the epiphyses a disc of actively growing +cartilage--_the epiphysial cartilage_; and at the junction of this +cartilage with the shaft is a zone of young, vascular, spongy bone known +as the _metaphysis_ or _epiphysial junction_. The shaft is a cylinder of +compact bone enclosing the medullary canal, which is filled with yellow +marrow. The extremities, which include the ossifying junctions, consist +of spongy bone, the spaces of which are filled with red marrow. The +articular aspect of the epiphysis is invested with a thick layer of +hyaline cartilage, known as the _articular cartilage_, which would +appear to be mainly nourished from the synovia. + +The external investment--the _periosteum_--is thick and vascular during +the period of growth, but becomes thin and less vascular when the +skeleton has attained maturity. Except where muscles are attached it is +easily separated from the bone; at the extremities it is intimately +connected with the epiphysial cartilage and with the epiphysis, and at +the margin of the latter it becomes continuous with the capsule of the +adjacent joint. It consists of two layers, an outer fibrous and an inner +cellular layer; the cells, which are called osteoblasts, are continuous +with those lining the Haversian canals and the medullary cavity. + +The arrangement of the _blood vessels_ determines to some extent the +incidence of disease in bone. The nutrient artery, after entering the +medullary canal through a special foramen in the cortex, bifurcates, and +one main division runs towards each of the extremities, and terminates +at the ossifying junction in a series of capillary loops projected +against the epiphysial cartilage. This arrangement favours the lodgment +of any organisms that may be circulating in the blood, and partly +accounts for the frequency with which diseases of bacterial origin +develop in the region of the ossifying junction. The diaphysis is also +nourished by numerous blood vessels from the periosteum, which penetrate +the cortex through the Haversian canals and anastomose with those +derived from the nutrient artery. The epiphyses are nourished by a +separate system of blood vessels, derived from the arteries which supply +the adjacent joint. The veins of the marrow are of large calibre and are +devoid of valves. + +The _nerves_ enter the marrow along with the arteries, and, being +derived from the sympathetic system, are probably chiefly concerned with +the innervation of the blood vessels, but they are also capable of +transmitting sensory impulses, as pain is a prominent feature of many +bone affections. + +It has long been believed that _the function of the periosteum_ is to +form new bone, but this view has been questioned by Sir William Macewen, +who maintains that its chief function is to limit the formation of new +bone. His experimental observations appear to show that new bone is +exclusively formed by the cellular elements or osteoblasts: these are +found on the surface of the bone, lining the Haversian canals and in the +marrow. We believe that it will avoid confusion in the study of the +diseases of bone if the osteoblasts on the surface of the bone are still +regarded as forming the deeper layer of the periosteum. + +The formation of new bone by the osteoblasts may be _defective_ as a +result of physiological conditions, such as old age and disease of a +part, and defective formation is often associated with atrophy, or more +strictly speaking, absorption, of the existing bone, as is well seen in +the edentulous jaw and in the neck of the femur of a person advanced in +years. Defective formation associated with atrophy is also illustrated +in the bones of the lower limbs of persons who are unable to stand or +walk, and in the distal portion of a bone which is the seat of an +ununited fracture. The same combination is seen in an exaggerated degree +in the bones of limbs that are paralysed; in the case of adults, atrophy +of bone predominates; in children and adolescents, defective formation +is the more prominent feature, and the affected bones are attenuated, +smooth on the surface, and abnormally light. + +On the other hand, the formation of new bone may be _exaggerated_, the +osteoblasts being excited to abnormal activity by stimuli of different +kinds: for example, the secretion of certain glandular organs, such as +the pituitary and thyreoid; the diluted toxins of certain +micro-organisms, such as the staphylococcus aureus and the spirochaete of +syphilis; a condition of hyperaemia, such as that produced artificially +by the application of a Bier's bandage or that which accompanies a +chronic leg-ulcer. + +The new bone is laid down on the surface, in the Haversian canals, or +in the cancellous spaces and medullary canal, or in all three +situations. The new bone on the surface sometimes takes the form of a +diffuse _encrustation_ of porous or spongy bone as in secondary +syphilis, sometimes as a uniform increase in the girth of the +bone--_hyperostosis_, sometimes as a localised heaping up of bone or +_node_, and sometimes in the form of spicules, spoken of as +_osteophytes_. When the new bone is laid down in the Haversian canals, +cancellous spaces and medulla, the bone becomes denser and heavier, and +is said to be _sclerosed_; in extreme instances this may result in +obliteration of the medullary canal. Hyperostosis and sclerosis are +frequently met with in combination, a condition that is well illustrated +in the femur and tibia in tertiary syphilis; if the subject of this +condition is confined to bed for several months before his death, the +sclerosis may be undone, and rarefaction may even proceed beyond the +normal, the bone becoming lighter and richer in fat, although retaining +its abnormal girth. + +The _function of the epiphysial cartilage_ is to provide for the growth +of the shaft in length. While all epiphysial cartilages contribute to +this result, certain of them functionate more actively and for a longer +period than others. Those at the knee, for example, contribute more to +the length of limb than do those at the hip or ankle, and they are also +the last to unite. In the upper limb the more active epiphyses are at +the shoulder and wrist, and these also are the last to unite. + +The activity of the epiphysial cartilage may be modified as a result of +disease. In rickets, for example, the formation of new bone may take +place unequally, and may go on more rapidly in one half of the disc than +in the other, with the result that the axis of the shaft comes to +deviate from the normal, giving rise to knock-knee or bow-knee. In +bacterial diseases originating in the marrow, if the epiphysial junction +is directly involved in the destructive process, its bone-forming +functions may be retarded or abolished, and the subsequent growth of the +bone be seriously interfered with. On the other hand, if it is not +directly involved but is merely influenced by the proximity of an +infective focus, its bone-forming functions may be stimulated by the +diluted toxins and the growth of the bone in length exaggerated. In +paralysed limbs the growth from the epiphyses is usually little short of +the normal. The result of interference with growth is more injurious in +the lower than in the upper limb, because, from the functional point of +view, it is essential that the lower extremities should be approximately +of equal length. In the forearm or leg, where there are two parallel +bones, if the growth of one is arrested the continued growth of the +other results in a deviation of the hand or foot to one side. + +In certain diseases, such as rickets and inherited syphilis, and in +developmental anomalies such as achondroplasia, _dwarfing_ of the +skeleton results from defective growth of bone at the ossifying +junctions. Conversely, excessive growth of bone at the ossifying +junctions results in abnormal height of the skeleton or _giantism_ as a +result, for example, of increased activity of the pituitary in +adolescents, and in eunuchs who have been castrated in childhood or +adolescence; in the latter, union of the epiphyses at the ends of the +long bones is delayed beyond the usual period at which the skeleton +attains maturity. + +#Regeneration of Bone.#--When bone has been lost or destroyed as a +result of injury or disease, it is capable of being reproduced, the +extent to which regeneration takes place varying under different +conditions. The chief part in the regeneration of bone is played by the +osteoblasts in the adjacent marrow and in the deeper layer of the +periosteum. The shaft of a long bone may be reproduced after having been +destroyed by disease or removed by operation. The flat bones of the +skull and the bones of the face, which are primarily developed in +membrane, have little capacity of regeneration; hence, when bone has +been lost or removed in these situations, there results a permanent +defect. + +Wounds or defects in articular cartilage are repaired by fibrous or +osseous tissue derived from the subjacent cancellous spaces. + +_Transplantation of Bone--Bone-grafting._--Clinical experience is +conclusive that a portion of bone which has been completely detached +from its surroundings--for example, a trephine circle, or a flap of bone +detached with the saw, or the loose fragments in a compound +fracture--may become, if replaced in position, firmly and permanently +incorporated with the surrounding bone. Embedded foreign bodies, on the +other hand, such as ivory pegs or decalcified bone, exhibit, on removal +after a sufficient interval, evidence of having been eroded, in the +shape of worm-eaten depressions and perforations, and do not become +united or fused to the surrounding bone. It follows from this that the +implanting of living bone is to be preferred to the implanting of dead +bone or of foreign material. We believe that transplanted living bone +when placed under favourable conditions survives and becomes +incorporated with the bone with which it is in contact, and does not +merely act as a scaffolding. We believe also that the retention of the +periosteum on the graft is not essential, but, by favouring the +establishment of vascular connections, it contributes to the survival of +the graft and the success of the transplantation. Macewen maintains that +bone grafts "take" better if broken up into small fragments; we regard +this as unnecessary. Bone grafts yield better functional results when +they are immovably fixed to the adjacent bone by suture, pegs, or +plates. As in all grafting procedures, asepsis is essential. + +Transplanted bone retains its vitality when embedded in the soft parts, +but is gradually absorbed and replaced by fibrous tissue. + + +DISEASES OF BONE + +The morbid processes met with in bone originate in the same way and lead +to the same results as do similar processes in other tissues. The +structural peculiarities of bone, however, and the important changes +which take place in the skeleton during the period of growth, modify +certain of the clinical and pathological features. + +_Definition of Terms._--Any diseased process that affects the periosteum +is spoken of as _periostitis_; the term _osteomyelitis_ is employed when +it is located in the marrow. The term _epiphysitis_ has been applied to +an inflammatory process in two distinct situations--namely, the +ossifying nucleus in the epiphysis, and the ossifying junction or +metaphysis between the epiphysial cartilage and the diaphysis. We shall +restrict the term to inflammation in the first of these situations. +Inflammation at the ossifying junction is included under the term +osteomyelitis. + +The term _rarefying ostitis_ is applied to any process that is attended +with excessive absorption of the framework of a bone, whereby it becomes +more porous or spongy than it was before, a condition known as +_osteoporosis_. + +The term _caries_ is employed to indicate any diseased process +associated with crumbling away of the trabecular framework of a bone. It +may be considered as the equivalent of ulceration or molecular +destruction in the soft parts. The carious process is preceded by the +formation of granulation tissue in the marrow or periosteum, which eats +away and replaces the bone in contact with it. The subsequent +degeneration and death of the granulation tissue under the necrotic +influence of bacterial toxins results in disintegration and crumbling +away of the trabecular framework of the portion of bone affected. +Clinically, carious bone yields a soft grating sensation under the +pressure of the probe. The macerated bone presents a rough, eroded +surface. + +The term _dry caries_ (_caries sicca_) is applied to that variety which +is unattended with suppuration. + +_Necrosis_ is the term applied to the death of a tangible portion of +bone, and the dead portion when separated is called a _sequestrum_. The +term _exfoliation_ is sometimes employed to indicate the separation or +throwing off of a superficial sequestrum. The edges and deep surface of +the sequestrum present a serrated or worm-eaten appearance due to the +process of erosion by which the dead bone has been separated from the +living. + + +BACTERIAL DISEASES + +The most important diseases in this group are the pyogenic, the +tuberculous, and the syphilitic. + +PYOGENIC DISEASES OF BONE.--These diseases result from +infection with pyogenic organisms, and two varieties or types are +recognised according to whether the organisms concerned reach their seat +of action by way of the blood-stream, or through an infection of the +soft parts in contact with the bone. + + +INFECTIONS THROUGH THE BLOOD-STREAM + +#Diseases caused by the Staphylococcus Aureus.#--As the majority of +pyogenic diseases are due to infection with the staphylococcus aureus, +these will be described first. + +#Acute osteomyelitis# is a suppurative process beginning in the marrow +and tending to spread to the periosteum. The disease is common in +children, but is rare after the skeleton has attained maturity. Boys are +affected more often than girls, in the proportion of three to one, +probably because they are more liable to exposure, to injury, and to +violent exertion. + +_Etiology._--Staphylococci gain access to the blood-stream in various +ways, it may be through the skin or through a mucous surface. + +Such conditions as, for example, a blow, some extra exertion such as a +long walk, or exposure to cold, as in wading, may act as localising +factors. + +The long bones are chiefly affected, and the commonest sites are: either +end of the tibia and the lower end of the femur; the other bones of the +skeleton are affected in rare instances. + +_Pathology._--The disease commences and is most intense in the marrow of +the ossifying junction at one end of the diaphysis; it may commence at +both ends simultaneously--_bipolar osteomyelitis_; or, commencing at one +end, may spread to the other. + +The changes observed are those of intense engorgement of the marrow, +going on to greenish-yellow purulent infiltration. Where the process is +most advanced--that is, at the ossifying junction--there are evidences +of absorption of the framework of the bone; the marrow spaces and +Haversian canals undergo enlargement and become filled with +greenish-yellow pus. This rarefaction of the spongy bone is the earliest +change seen with the X-rays. + +The process may remain localised to the ossifying junction, but usually +spreads along the medullary canal for a varying distance, and also +extends to the periosteum by way of the enlarged Haversian canals. The +pus accumulates under the periosteum and lifts it up from the bone. The +extent of spread in the medullary canal and beneath the periosteum is in +close correspondence. The periosteum of the diaphysis is easily +separated--hence the facility with which the pus spreads along the +shaft; but in the region of the ossifying junction it is raised with +difficulty because of its intimate connection with the epiphysial +cartilage. Less frequently there is more than one collection of pus +under the periosteum, each being derived from a focus of suppuration in +the subjacent marrow. The pus perforates the periosteum, and makes its +way to the surface by the easiest anatomical route, and discharges +externally, forming one or more sinuses through which fresh infection +may take place. The infection may spread to the adjacent joint, either +directly through the epiphysis and articular cartilage, or along the +deep layer of the periosteum and its continuation--the capsular +ligament. When the epiphysis is intra-articular, as, for example, in the +head of the femur, the pus when it reaches the surface of the bone +necessarily erupts directly into the joint. + +While the occurrence of purely periosteal suppuration is regarded as +possible, we are of opinion that the embolic form of staphylococcal +osteomyelitis always originates in the marrow. + +The portion of the diaphysis which has sustained the action of the +concentrated toxins has its vitality further impaired as a result of the +stripping of the periosteum and thrombosis of the blood vessels of the +marrow, so that _necrosis_ of bone is one of the most striking results +of the disease, and as this takes place rapidly, that is, in a day or +two, the term _acute necrosis_, formerly applied to the disease, was +amply justified. + +When there is marked rarefaction of the bone at the ossifying junction, +the epiphysis is liable to be separated--_epiphysiolysis_. The +separation usually takes place through the young bone of the ossifying +junction, and the surfaces of the diaphysis and epiphysis are opposed to +each other by irregular eroded surfaces bathed in pus. The separated +epiphysis may be kept in place by the periosteum, but when this has been +detached by the formation of pus beneath it, the epiphysis is liable to +be displaced by muscular action or by some movement of the limb, or it +is the diaphysis that is displaced, for example, the lower end of the +diaphysis of the femur may be projected into the popliteal space. + +The epiphysial cartilage usually continues its bone-forming functions, +but when it has been seriously damaged or displaced, the further growth +of the bone in length may be interfered with. Sometimes the separated +and displaced epiphysis dies and constitutes a sequestrum. + +The adjacent joint may become filled at an early stage with a serous +effusion, which may be sterile. When the cocci gain access to the joint, +the lesion assumes the characters of a purulent arthritis, which, from +its frequency during the earlier years of life, has been called _the +acute arthritis of infants_. + +Separation of an epiphysis nearly always results in infection and +destruction of the adjacent joint. + +Osteomyelitis is rare in the bones of the carpus and tarsus, and the +associated joints are usually infected from the outset. In flat bones, +such as the skull, the scapula, or the ilium, suppuration usually occurs +on both aspects of the bone as well as in the marrow. + +_Clinical Features._--The constitutional symptoms, which are due to the +associated toxaemia, vary considerably in different cases. In mild cases +they may be so slight as to escape recognition. In exceptionally severe +cases the patient may succumb before there are obvious signs of the +localisation of the staphylococci in the bone marrow. In average cases +the temperature rises rapidly with a rigor and runs an irregular course +with morning remissions, there is marked general illness accompanied by +headache, vomiting, and sometimes delirium. + +The local manifestations are pain and tenderness in relation to one of +the long bones; the pain may be so severe as to prevent sleep and to +cause the child to cry out. Tenderness on pressure over the bone is the +most valuable diagnostic sign. At a later stage there is an ill-defined +swelling in the region of the ossifying junction, with oedema of the +overlying skin and dilatation of the superficial veins. + +The swelling appears earlier and is more definite in superficial bones +such as the tibia, than in those more deeply placed such as the upper +end of the femur. It may be less evident to the eye than to the fingers, +and is best appreciated by gently stroking the bone from the middle of +its shaft towards the end. The maximum thickening and tenderness usually +correspond to the junction of the diaphysis with the epiphysis, and the +swelling tails off gradually along the shaft. As time goes on there is +redness of the skin, especially over a superficial bone, such as the +tibia, the swelling becomes softer, and gives evidence of fluctuation. +This stage may be reached at the end of twenty-four hours, or not for +some days. + +Suppuration spreads towards the surface, until, some days later, the +skin sloughs and pus escapes, after which the fever usually remits and +the pain and other symptoms are relieved. The pus may contain blood and +droplets of fat derived from the marrow, and in some cases minute +particles of bone are present also. The presence of fat and bony +particles in the pus confirms the medullary origin of the suppuration. + +If an incision is made, the periosteum is found to be raised from the +bone; the extent of the bare bone will be found to correspond fairly +accurately with the extent of the lesion in the marrow. + +_Local Complications._--The adjacent joint may exhibit symptoms which +vary from those of a simple effusion to those of a purulent _arthritis_. +The joint symptoms may count for little in the clinical picture, or, as +in the case of the hip, may so predominate as to overshadow those of the +bone lesion from which they originated. + +_Separation and displacement of the epiphysis_ usually reveals itself by +an alteration in the attitude of the limb; it is nearly always +associated with suppuration in the adjacent joint. + +When _pathological fracture_ of the shaft occurs, as it may do, from +some muscular effort or strain, it is attended with the usual signs of +fracture. + +_Dislocation_ of the adjacent joint has been chiefly observed at the +hip; it may result from effusion into the joint and stretching of the +ligaments, or may be the sequel of a purulent arthritis; the signs of +dislocation are not so obvious as might be expected, but it is attended +with an alteration in the attitude of the limb, and the displacement of +the head of the bone is readily shown in a skiagram. + +_General Complications._--In some cases a _multiplicity of lesions_ in +the bones and joints imparts to the disease the features of pyaemia. The +occurrence of endocarditis, as indicated by alterations in the heart +sounds and the development of murmurs, may cause widespread infective +embolism, and metastatic suppurations in the kidneys, heart-wall, and +lungs, as well as in other bones and joints than those primarily +affected. The secondary suppurations are liable to be overlooked unless +sought for, as they are rarely attended with much pain. + +In these multiple forms of osteomyelitis the toxaemic symptoms +predominate; the patient is dull and listless, or he may be restless and +talkative, or actually delirious. The tongue is dry and coated, the lips +and teeth are covered with sordes, the motions are loose and offensive, +and may be passed involuntarily. The temperature is remittent and +irregular, the pulse small and rapid, and the urine may contain blood +and albumen. Sometimes the skin shows erythematous and purpuric rashes, +and the patient may cry out as in meningitis. The post-mortem +appearances are those of pyaemia. + +_Differential Diagnosis._--Acute osteomyelitis is to be diagnosed from +infections of the soft parts, such as erysipelas and cellulitis, and, in +the case of the tibia, from erythema nodosum. Tenderness localised to +the ossifying junction is the most valuable diagnostic sign of +osteomyelitis. + +When there is early and pronounced general intoxication, there is likely +to be confusion with other acute febrile illnesses, such as scarlet +fever. In all febrile conditions in children and adolescents, the +ossifying junctions of the long bones should be examined for areas of +pain and tenderness. + +Osteomyelitis has many features in common with acute articular +rheumatism, and some authorities believe them to be different forms of +the same disease (Kocher). In acute rheumatism, however, the joint +symptoms predominate, there is an absence of suppuration, and the pains +and temperature yield to salicylates. + +The _prognosis_ varies with the type of the disease, with its +location--the vertebrae, skull, pelvis, and lower jaw being specially +unfavourable--with the multiplicity of the lesions, and with the +development of endocarditis and internal metastases. + +_Treatment._--This is carried out on the same lines as in other pyogenic +infections. + +In the earliest stages of the disease, the induction of hyperaemia is +indicated, and should be employed until the diagnosis is definitely +established, and in the meantime preparations for operation should be +made. An incision is made down to and through the periosteum, and +whether pus is found or not, the bone should be opened in the vicinity +of the ossifying junction by means of a drill, gouge, or trephine. If +pus is found, the opening in the bone is extended along the shaft as far +as the periosteum has been separated, and the infected marrow is removed +with the spoon. The cavity is then lightly packed with rubber dam, or, +as recommended by Bier, the skin edges are brought together by sutures +which are loosely tied to afford sufficient space between them for the +exit of discharge, and the hyperaemic treatment is continued. + +When there is widespread suppuration in the marrow, and the shaft is +extensively bared of periosteum and appears likely to die, it may be +resected straight away or after an interval of a day or two. Early +resection of the shaft is also indicated if the opening of the medullary +canal is not followed by relief of symptoms. In the leg and forearm, the +unaffected bone maintains the length and contour of the limb; in the +case of the femur and humerus, extension with weight and pulley along +with some form of moulded gutter splint is employed with a similar +object. + +Amputation of the limb is reserved for grave cases, in which life is +endangered by toxaemia, which is attributed to the primary lesion. It may +be called for later if the limb is likely to be useless, as, for +example, when the whole shaft of the bone is dead without the formation +of a new case, when the epiphyses are separated and displaced, and the +joints are disorganised. + +Flat bones, such as the skull or ilium, must be trephined and the pus +cleared out from both aspects of the bone. In the vertebrae, operative +interference is usually restricted to opening and draining the +associated abscess. + +#Nature's Effort at Repair.#--_In cases which are left to nature_, and +in which necrosis of bone has occurred, those portions of the periosteum +and marrow which have retained their vitality resume their osteogenetic +functions, often to an exaggerated degree. Where the periosteum has been +lifted up by an accumulation of pus, or is in contact with bone that is +dead, it proceeds to form new bone with great activity, so that the dead +shaft becomes surrounded by a sheath or case of new bone, known as the +_involucrum_ (Fig. 118). Where the periosteum has been perforated by pus +making its way to the surface, there are defects or holes in the +involucrum, called _cloacae_. As these correspond more or less in +position to the sinuses in the skin, in passing a probe down one of the +sinuses it usually passes through a cloaca and strikes the dead bone +lying in the interior. If the periosteum has been extensively +destroyed, new bone may only be formed in patches, or not at all. The +dead bone is separated from the living by the agency of granulation +tissue with its usual complements of phagocytes and osteoclasts, so that +the sequestrum presents along its margins and on its deep surface a +pitted, grooved, and worm-eaten appearance, except on the periosteal +aspect, which is unaltered. Ultimately the dead bone becomes loose and +lies in a cavity a little larger than itself; the wall of the cavity is +formed by the new case, lined with granulation tissue. The separation of +the sequestrum takes place more rapidly in the spongy bone of the +ossifying junction than in the compact bone of the shaft. + +When foci of suppuration have been scattered up and down the medullary +cavity, and the bone has died in patches, several sequestra may be +included by the new case; each portion of dead bone is slowly separated, +and comes to lie in a cavity lined by granulations. + +Even at a distance from the actual necrosis there is formation of new +bone by the marrow; the medullary canal is often obliterated, and the +bone becomes heavier and denser--sclerosis; and the new bone which is +deposited on the original shaft results in an increase in the girth of +the bone--hyperostosis. + +[Illustration: FIG. 118.--Shaft of Femur after Acute Osteomyelitis. The +shaft has undergone extensive necrosis, and a shell of new bone has been +formed by the periosteum.] + +_Pathological fracture_ of the shaft may occur at the site of necrosis, +when the new case is incapable of resisting the strain put upon it, and +is most frequently met with in the shaft of the femur. Short of +fracture, there may be bending or curving of the new case, and this +results in deformity and shortening of the limb (Fig. 119). + +The _extrusion of a sequestrum_ may occur, provided there is a cloaca +large enough to allow of its escape, but the surgeon has usually to +interfere by performing the operation of sequestrectomy. Displacement or +partial extrusion of the dead bone may cause complications, as when a +sequestrum derived from the trigone of the femur perforates the +popliteal artery or the cavity of the knee-joint, or a sequestrum of the +pelvis perforates the wall of the urinary bladder. + +The extent to which bone which has been lost is reproduced varies in +different parts of the skeleton: while the long bones, the scapula, the +mandible, and other bones which are developed in cartilage are almost +completely re-formed, bones which are entirely developed in membrane, +such as the flat bones of the skull and the maxilla, are not reproduced. + +[Illustration: FIG. 119.--Femur and Tibia showing results of Acute +Osteomyelitis affecting Trigone of Femur; sequestrum partly surrounded +by new case; backward displacement of lower epiphysis and implication of +knee-joint.] + +It may be instructive to describe _the X-ray appearances of a long bone +that has passed through an attack of acute osteomyelitis_ severe enough +to have caused necrosis of part of the diaphysis. The shadow of the dead +bone is seen in the position of the original shaft which it represents; +it is of the same shape and density as the original shaft, while its +margins present an irregular contour from the erosion concerned in its +separation. The sequestrum is separated from the living bone by a clear +zone which corresponds to the layer of granulations lining the cavity in +which it lies. This clear zone separating the shadow of the dead bone +from that of the living bone by which it is surrounded is conclusive +evidence of a sequestrum. The medullary canal in the vicinity of the +sequestrum being obliterated, is represented by a shadow of varying +density, continuous with that of the surrounding bone. The shadow of the +new case or involucrum with its wavy contour is also in evidence, with +its openings or cloacae, and is mainly responsible for the increase in +the diameter of the bone. + +The skiagram may also show separation and displacement of the adjacent +epiphysis and destruction of the articular surfaces or dislocation of +the joint. + +_Sequelae of Acute Suppurative Osteomyelitis._--The commonest sequel is +the presence of a sequestrum with one or more discharging sinuses; owing +to the abundant formation of scar tissue these sinuses have rigid edges +which are usually depressed and adherent to the bone. + +_The Recognition and Removal of Sequestra._--So long as there is dead +bone there will be suppuration from the granulations lining the cavity +in which it lies, and a discharge of pus from the sinuses, so that the +mere persistence of discharge after an attack of osteomyelitis, is +presumptive evidence of the occurrence of necrosis. Where there are one +or more sinuses, the passage of a probe which strikes bare bone affords +corroboration of the view that the bone has perished. When the dead bone +has been separated from the living, the X-rays yield the most exact +information. + +The traditional practice is to wait until the dead bone is entirely +separated before undertaking an operation for its removal, from fear, on +the one hand, of leaving portions behind which may keep up the +discharge, and, on the other, of removing more bone than is necessary. +This practice need not be adhered to, as by operating at an earlier +stage healing is greatly hastened. If it is decided to wait for +separation of the dead bone, drainage should be improved, and the +infective element combated by the induction of hyperaemia. + +_The operation_ for the removal of the dead bone (_sequestrectomy_) +consists in opening up the periosteum and the new case sufficiently to +allow of the removal of all the dead bone, including the most minute +sequestra. The limb having been rendered bloodless, existing sinuses are +enlarged, but if these are inconveniently situated--for example, in the +centre of the popliteal space in necrosis of the femoral trigone--it is +better to make a fresh wound down to the bone on that aspect of the +limb which affords best access, and which entails the least injury of +the soft parts. The periosteum, which is thick and easily separable, is +raised from the new case with an elevator, and with the chisel or gouge +enough of the new bone is taken away to allow of the removal of the +sequestrum. Care must be taken not to leave behind any fragment of dead +bone, as this will interfere with healing, and may determine a relapse +of suppuration. + +The dead bone having been removed, the lining granulations are scraped +away with a spoon, and the cavity is disinfected. + +There are different ways of dealing with a _bone cavity_. It may be +packed with gauze (impregnated with "bipp" or with iodoform), which is +changed at intervals until healing takes place from the bottom; it may +be filled with a flap of bone and periosteum raised from the vicinity, +or with bone grafts; or the wall of bone on one side of the cavity may +be chiselled through at its base, so that it can be brought into contact +with the opposite wall. The method of filling bone cavities devised by +Mosetig-Moorhof, consists in disinfecting and drying the cavity by a +current of hot air, and filling it with a mixture of powdered iodoform +(60 parts) and oil of sesame and spermaceti (each 40 parts), which is +fluid at a temperature of 112 F.; the soft parts are then brought +together without drainage. As the cavity fills up with new bone the +iodoform is gradually absorbed. Iodoform gives a dark shadow with the +X-rays, so that the process of its absorption can be followed in +skiagrams taken at intervals. + +These procedures may be carried out at the same time as the sequestrum +is removed, or after an interval. In all of them, asepsis is essential +for success. + +The _deformities_ resulting from osteomyelitis are more marked the +earlier in life the disease occurs. Even under favourable conditions, +and with the continuous effort at reconstruction of the bone by Nature's +method, the return to normal is often far from perfect, and there +usually remains a variable amount of hyperostosis and sclerosis and +sometimes curving of the bone. Under less favourable conditions, the +late results of osteomyelitis may be more serious. _Shortening_ is not +uncommon from interference with growth at the ossifying junction. +_Exaggerated growth_ in the length of a bone is rare, and has been +observed chiefly in the bones of the leg. Where there are two parallel +bones--as in the leg, for example--the growth of the diseased bone may +be impaired, and the other continuing its normal growth becomes +disproportionately long; less frequently the growth of the diseased +bone is exaggerated, and it becomes the longer of the two. In either +case, the longer bone becomes curved. An _obliquity_ of the bone may +result when one half of the epiphysial cartilage is destroyed and the +other half continues to form bone, giving rise to such deformities as +knock-knee and club-hand. + +Deformity may also result from vicious union of a pathological fracture, +permanent displacement of an epiphysis, contracture, ankylosis, or +dislocation of the adjacent joint. + +#Relapsing Osteomyelitis.#--As the term indicates, the various forms of +relapsing osteomyelitis date back to an antecedent attack, and their +occurrence depends on the capacity of staphylococci to lie latent in the +marrow. + +Relapse may take place within a few months of the original attack, or +not for many years. Cases are sometimes met with in which relapses recur +at regular intervals for several years, the tendency, however, being for +the attacks to become milder as the virulence of the organisms becomes +more and more attenuated. + +_Clinical Features._--Osteomyelitis in a patient over twenty-five is +nearly always of the relapsing variety. In some cases the bone becomes +enlarged, with pain and tenderness on pressure; in others there are the +usual phenomena which attend suppuration, but the pus is slow in coming +to the surface, and the constitutional symptoms are slight. The pus may +escape by new channels, or one of the old sinuses may re-open. +Radiograms usually furnish useful information as to the condition of the +bone, both as it is altered by the original attack and by the changes +that attend the relapse of the infective process. + +_Treatment._--In cases of thickening of the bone with persistent and +severe pain, if relief is not afforded by the repeated application of +blisters, the thickened periosteum should be incised, and the bone +opened up with the chisel or trephine. In cases attended with +suppuration, the swelling is incised and drained, and if there is a +sequestrum, it must be removed. + +#Circumscribed Abscess of Bone--"Brodie's Abscess."#--The most important +form of relapsing osteomyelitis is the circumscribed abscess of bone +first described by Benjamin Brodie. It is usually met with in young +adults, but we have met with it in patients over fifty. Several years +may intervene between the original attack of osteomyelitis and the onset +of symptoms of abscess. + +_Morbid Anatomy._[7]--The abscess is nearly always situated in the +central axis of the bone in the region of the ossifying junction, +although cases are occasionally met with in which it lies nearer the +middle of the shaft. In exceptional cases there is more than one abscess +(Fig. 120). The tibia is the bone most commonly affected, but the lower +end of the femur, or either end of the humerus, may be the seat of the +abscess. In the quiescent stage the lesion is represented by a small +cavity in the bone, filled with clear serum, and lined by a fibrous +membrane which is engaged in forming bone. Around the cavity the bone is +sclerosed, and the medullary canal is obliterated. When the infection +becomes active, the contents of the cavity are transformed into a +greenish-yellow pus from which the staphylococcus can be isolated, and +the cavity is lined by a thin film of granulation tissue which erodes +the surrounding bone and so causes the abscess to increase in size. If +the erosion proceeds uniformly, the cavity is spherical or oval; if it +is more active at some points than others, diverticula or tunnels are +formed, and one of these may finally erupt through the shell of the bone +or into an adjacent joint. Small irregular sequestra are occasionally +found within the abscess cavity. In long-standing cases it is common to +find extensive obliteration of the medullary canal, and a considerable +increase in the girth of the bone. + +[7] Alexis Thomson, _Edin. Med. Journ._, 1906. + +[Illustration: FIG. 120.--Segment of Tibia resected for Brodie's +Abscess. The specimen shows two separate abscesses in the centre of the +shaft, the lower one quiescent, the upper one active and increasing in +size.] + +The size of the abscess ranges from that of a cherry to that of a +walnut, but specimens in museums show that, if left to Nature, the +abscess may attain much greater dimensions. + +The affected bone is not only thicker and heavier than normal, but may +also be curved or otherwise deformed as a result of the original attack +of osteomyelitis. + +The _clinical features_ are almost exclusively local. Pain, due to +tension within the abscess, is the dominant symptom. At first it is +vague and difficult to localise, later it is referred to the interior of +the bone, and is described as "boring." It is aggravated by use of the +limb, and there are often, especially during the night, exacerbations in +which the pain becomes excruciating. In the early stages there are +periods of days or weeks during which the symptoms abate, but as the +abscess increases these become shorter, until the patient is hardly ever +free from pain. Localised tenderness can almost always be elicited by +percussion, or by compressing the bone between the fingers and thumb. +The pain induced by the traction of muscles attached to the bone, or by +the weight of the body, may interfere with the function of the limb, and +in the lower extremity cause a limp in walking. The limb may be disabled +from _involvement of the adjacent joint_, in which there may be an +intermittent hydrops which comes and goes coincidently with +exacerbations of pain; or the abscess may perforate the joint and set up +an acute arthritis. + +The _diagnosis_ of Brodie's abscess from other affections met with at +the ends of long bones, and particularly from tuberculosis, syphilis, +and new growths, is made by a consideration of the previous history, +especially with reference to an antecedent attack of osteomyelitis. When +the adjacent joint is implicated, the surgeon may be misled by the +patient referring all the symptoms to the joint. + +The X-ray picture is usually diagnostic chiefly because all the lesions +which are liable to be confused with Brodie's abscess--gumma, tubercle, +myeloma, chondroma, and sarcoma--give a well-marked central clear area; +the sclerosis around Brodie's abscess gives a dense shadow in which the +central clear area is either not seen at all or only faintly (Fig. 121). + +_Treatment._--If an abscess is suspected, there should be no hesitation +in exploring the interior of the bone. It is exposed by a suitable +incision; the periosteum is reflected and the bone is opened up by a +trephine or chisel, and the presence of an abscess may be at once +indicated by the escape of pus. If, owing to the small size of the +abscess or the density of the bone surrounding it, the pus is not +reached by this procedure, the bone should be drilled in different +directions. + +[Illustration: FIG. 121.--Radiogram of Brodie's Abscess in Lower End of +Tibia.] + +#Other Forms of Acute Osteomyelitis.#--Among the less severe forms of +osteomyelitis resulting from the action of attenuated organisms are the +_serous_ variety, in which an effusion of serous fluid forms under the +periosteum; and _growth fever_, in which the child complains of vague +evanescent pains (growing pains), and of feeling tired and disinclined +to play; there may be some rise of temperature in the evening. + +Infection with the _staphylococcus albus_, the _streptococcus_, or the +_pneumococcus_ also causes a mild form of osteomyelitis which may go on +to suppuration. + +_Necrosis without suppuration_, described by Paget under the name "quiet +necrosis," is a rare disease, and would appear to be associated with an +attenuated form of staphylococcal infection (Tavel). It occurs in +adults, being met with up to the age of fifty or sixty, and is +characterised by the insidious development of a swelling which involves +a considerable extent of a long bone. The pain varies in intensity, and +may be continuous or intermittent, and there is tenderness on pressure. +The shaft is increased in girth as a result of its being surrounded by a +new case of bone. The resemblance to sarcoma may be very close, but the +swelling is not as defined as in sarcoma, nor does it ever assume the +characteristic "leg of mutton" shape. In both diseases there is a +tendency to pathological fracture. It is difficult also in the absence +of skiagrams to differentiate the condition from syphilitic and from +tuberculous disease. If the diagnosis is not established after +examination with the X-rays, an exploratory incision should be made; if +dead bone is found, it is removed. + +In typhoid fever the bone marrow is liable to be invaded by _the typhoid +bacillus_, which may set up osteomyelitis soon after its lodgment, or it +may lie latent for a considerable period before doing so. The lesions +may be single or multiple, they involve the marrow or the periosteum or +both, and they may or may not be attended with suppuration. They are +most commonly met with in the tibia and in the ribs at the +costo-chondral junctions. + +The bone lesions usually occur during the seventh or eighth week of the +fever, but have been known to occur much later. The chief complaint is +of vague pains, at first referred to several bones, later becoming +localised in one; they are aggravated by movement, or by handling the +bone, and are worst at night. There is redness and oedema of the +overlying soft parts, and swelling with vague fluctuation, and on +incision there escapes a yellow creamy pus, or a brown syrupy fluid +containing the typhoid bacillus in pure culture. Necrosis is +exceptional. + +When the abscess develops slowly, the condition resembles tuberculous +disease, from which it may be diagnosed by the history of typhoid fever, +and by obtaining a positive Widal reaction. + +The prognosis is favourable, but recovery is apt to be slow, and relapse +is not uncommon. + +It is usually sufficient to incise the periosteum, but when the disease +occurs in a rib it may be necessary to resect a portion of bone. + +#Pyogenic Osteomyelitis due to Spread of Infection from the Soft +Parts.#--There still remain those forms of osteomyelitis which result +from infection through a wound involving the bone--for example, compound +fractures, gun-shot injuries, osteotomies, amputations, resections, or +operations for un-united fracture. In all of these the marrow is exposed +to infection by such organisms as are present in the wound. A similar +form of osteomyelitis may occur apart from a wound--for example, +infection may spread to the jaws from lesions of the mouth; to the +skull, from lesions of the scalp or of the cranial bones +themselves--such as a syphilitic gumma or a sarcoma which has fungated +externally; or to the petrous temporal, from suppuration in the middle +ear. + +The most common is an osteomyelitis commencing in the marrow exposed in +a wound infected with pyogenic organisms. In amputation stumps, +fungating granulations protrude from the sawn end of the bone, and if +necrosis takes place, the sequestrum is annular, affecting the +cross-section of the bone at the saw-line; or tubular, extending up the +shaft, and tapering off above. The periosteum is more easily detached, +is thicker than normal, and is actively engaged in forming bone. In the +macerated specimen, the new bone presents a characteristic coral-like +appearance, and may be perforated by cloacae (Fig. 122). + +[Illustration: FIG. 122.--Tubular Sequestrum resulting from Septic +Osteomyelitis in Amputation Stump.] + +Like other pyogenic infections, it may terminate in pyaemia, as a result +of septic phlebitis in the marrow. + +The _clinical features_ of osteomyelitis in _an amputation stump_ are +those of ordinary pyogenic infection; the involvement of the bone may be +suspected from the clinical course, the absence of improvement from +measures directed towards overcoming the sepsis in the soft parts, and +the persistence of suppuration in spite of free drainage, but it is not +recognised unless the bone is exposed by opening up the stump or the +changes in the bone are shown by the X-rays. The first change is due to +the deposit of new bone on the periosteal surface; later, there is the +shadow of the sequestrum. + +Healing does not take place until the sequestrum is extruded or removed +by operation. + +_In compound fractures_, if a fragment dies and forms a sequestrum, it +is apt to be walled in by new bone; the sinuses continue to discharge +until the sequestrum is removed. Even after healing has taken place, +relapse is liable to occur, especially in gun-shot injuries. Months or +years afterwards, the bone may become painful and tender. The symptoms +may subside under rest and elevation of the limb and the application of +a compress, or an abscess forms and bursts with comparatively little +suffering. The contents may be clear yellow serum or watery pus; +sometimes a small spicule of bone is discharged. Valuable information, +both for diagnosis and treatment, is afforded by skiagrams. + +[Illustration: FIG. 123.--New Periosteal Bone on surface of Femur from +Amputation Stump. Osteomyelitis supervened on the amputation, and +resulted in necrosis at the sawn section of the bone. (Anatomical +Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + + +TUBERCULOUS DISEASE + +The tuberculous diseases of bone result from infection of the marrow or +periosteum by tubercle bacilli conveyed through the arteries; it is +exceedingly rare for tubercle to appear in bone as a primary infection, +the bacilli being usually derived from some pre-existing focus in the +bronchial glands or elsewhere. According to the observations of John +Fraser, 60 per cent. of the cases of bone and joint tubercle in children +are due to the bovine bacillus, 37 per cent. to the human variety, and +in 3 per cent. both types are present. + +Tuberculous disease in bone is characterised by its insidious onset and +slow progress, and by the frequency with which it is associated with +disease of the adjacent joint. + +#Periosteal tuberculosis# is met with in the ribs, sternum, vertebral +column, skull, and less frequently in the long bones of the limbs. It +may originate in the periosteum, or may spread thence from the marrow, +or from synovial membrane. + +_In superficial bones_, such as the sternum, the formation of +tuberculous granulation tissue in the deeper layer of the periosteum, +and its subsequent caseation and liquefaction, is attended by the +insidious development of a doughy swelling, which is not as a rule +painful, although tender on pressure. While the swelling often remains +quiescent for some time, it tends to increase in size, to become boggy +or fluctuating, and to assume the characters of a cold abscess. The pus +perforates the fibrous layer of the periosteum, invading and infecting +the overlying soft parts, its spread being influenced by the anatomical +arrangement of the tissues. The size of the abscess affords no +indication of the extent of the bone lesion from which it originates. As +the abscess reaches the surface, the skin becomes of a dusky red or +livid colour, is gradually thinned out, and finally sloughs, forming a +sinus. A probe passed into the sinus strikes carious bone. Small +sequestra may be found embedded in the granulation tissue. The sinus +persists as long as any active tubercle remains in the tissues, and is +apt to form an avenue for pyogenic infection. + +_In deeply seated bones_, such as the upper end of the femur, the +formation of a cold abscess in the soft parts is often the first +evidence of the disease. + +_Diagnosis._--Before the stage of cold abscess is reached, the localised +swelling is to be differentiated from a gumma, from chronic forms of +staphylococcal osteomyelitis, from enlarged bursa or ganglion, from +sub-periosteal lipoma, and from sarcoma. Most difficulty is met with in +relation to periosteal sarcoma, which must be differentiated either by +the X-ray appearances or by an exploratory incision. + +_X-ray appearances in periosteal tubercle_: the surface of the cortical +bone in the area of disease is roughened and irregular by erosion, and +in the vicinity there may be a deposit of new bone on the surface, +particularly if a sinus is present and mixed infection has occurred; in +_syphilis_ the shadow of the bone is denser as a result of sclerosis, +and there is usually more new bone on the surface--hyperostosis; in +_periosteal sarcoma_ there is greater erosion and consequently greater +irregularity in the contour of the cortical bone, and frequently there +is evidence of formation of bone in the form of characteristic spicules +projecting from the surface at a right angle. + +The early recognition of periosteal lesions in the articular ends of +bones is of importance, as the disease, if left to itself, is liable to +spread to the adjacent joint. + +The _treatment_ is that of tuberculous lesions in general; if +conservative measures fail, the choice lies between the injection of +iodoform, and removal of the infected tissues with the sharp spoon. In +the ribs it is more satisfactory to remove the diseased portion of bone +along with the wall of the associated abscess or sinus. If all the +tubercle has been removed and there is no pyogenic infection, the wound +is stitched up with the object of obtaining primary union; otherwise it +is treated by the open method. + +#Tuberculous Osteomyelitis.#--Tuberculous lesions in the marrow occur as +isolated or as multiple foci of granulation tissue, which replace the +marrow and erode the trabeculae of bone in the vicinity (Fig. 124). The +individual focus varies in size from a pea to a walnut. The changes that +ensue resemble in character those in other tissues, and the extent of +the destruction varies according to the way in which the tubercle +bacillus and the marrow interact upon one another. The granulation +tissue may undergo caseation and liquefaction, or may become +encapsulated by fibrous tissue--"encysted tubercle." + +[Illustration: FIG. 124.--Tuberculous Osteomyelitis of Os Magnum, +excised from a boy aet. 8. Note well-defined caseous focus, with several +minute foci in surrounding marrow.] + +Sometimes the tuberculous granulation tissue spreads in the marrow, +assuming the characters of a diffuse infiltration--diffuse tuberculous +osteomyelitis. The trabecular framework of the bone undergoes erosion +and absorption--rarefying ostitis--and either disappears altogether or +only irregular fragments or sequestra of microscopic dimensions remain +in the area affected. Less frequently the trabecular framework is added +to by the formation of new bone, resulting in a remarkable degree of +sclerosis, and if, following upon this, there is caseation of the +tubercle and death of the affected portion of bone, there results a +sequestrum often of considerable size and characteristic shape, which, +because of the sclerosis and surrounding endarteritis, is exceedingly +slow in separating. When the sequestrum involves an articular surface it +is often wedge-shaped; in other situations it is rounded or truncated +and lies in the long axis of the medullary canal (Fig. 125). Finally, +the sequestrum lies loose in a cavity lined by tuberculous granulation +tissue, and is readily identified in a radiogram. This type of sclerosis +preceding death of the bone is highly characteristic of tuberculosis. + +[Illustration: FIG. 125.--Tuberculous Disease of Child's Tibia, +showing sequestrum in medullary cavity, and increase in girth from +excess of new bone.] + +_Clinical Features._--As a rule, it is only in superficially placed +bones, such as the tibia, ulna, clavicle, mandible, or phalanges, that +tuberculous disease in the marrow gives rise to signs sufficiently +definite to allow of its clinical recognition. In the vertebrae, or in +the bones of deeply seated joints, such as the hip or shoulder, the +existence of tuberculous lesions in the marrow can only be inferred from +indirect signs--such, for example, as rigidity and curvature in the case +of the spine, or from the symptoms of grave and persistent joint-disease +in the case of the hip or shoulder. + +With few exceptions, tuberculous disease in the interior of a bone does +not reveal its presence until by extension it reaches one or other of +the surfaces of the bone. In the shaft of a long bone its eruption on +the periosteal surface is usually followed by the formation of a cold +abscess in the overlying soft parts. When situated in the articular ends +of bones, the disease more often erupts in relation to the reflection of +the synovial membrane or directly on the articular surface--in either +case giving rise to disease of the joint (Fig. 156). + +[Illustration: Fig. 126.--Diffuse Tuberculous Osteomyelitis of Right +Tibia. + +(Photograph lent by Sir H. J. Stiles.)] + +#Diffuse Tuberculous Osteomyelitis in the shaft of a long bone# is +comparatively rare, and has been observed chiefly in the tibia and the +ulna in children (Fig. 126). It commences at the growing extremity of +the diaphysis, and spreads along the medulla to a variable extent; it is +attended by the formation of vascular and porous bone on the surface, +which causes thickening of the diaphysis; this is most marked at the +ossifying junction and tapers off along the shaft. The infection not +only spreads along the medulla, but it invades the spongy bone +surrounding this, and then the cortical bone, and is only prevented from +reaching the soft parts by the new bone formed by the periosteum. The +bone is replaced by granulation tissue, and disappears, or part of it +may become sclerosed and in time form a sequestrum. In the macerated +specimen, the sequestrum appears small in proportion to the large cavity +in which it lies. All these changes are revealed in a good skiagram, +which not only confirms the diagnosis, but, in many instances, +demonstrates the extent of the disease, the presence or absence of a +sequestrum, and the amount of new bone on the surface. Finally the +periosteum gives way, and an abscess forms in the soft parts; and if +left to itself ruptures externally, leaving a sinus. The most +satisfactory _treatment_ is to resect sub-periosteally the diseased +portion of the diaphysis. + +_In cancellous bones, such as those of the tarsus_, there is a similar +caseous infiltration in the marrow, and this may be attended with the +formation of a sequestrum either in the interior of the bone or +involving its outer shell, as shown in Fig. 127. The situation and +extent of the disease are shown in X-ray photographs. After the +tuberculous granulation tissue erupts through the cortex of the bone, it +gives rise to a cold abscess or infects adjacent joints or tendon +sheaths. + +[Illustration: FIG. 127.--Advanced Tuberculous Disease in region of +Ankle. The ankle-joint is ankylosed, and there is a large sequestrum in +the calcaneus. + +(Specimen in Anatomical Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + +If an exact diagnosis is made at an early stage of the disease--and this +is often possible with the aid of X-rays--the affected bone is excised +sub-periosteally or its interior is cleared out with the sharp spoon and +gouge, the latter procedure being preferred in the case of the +_calcaneus_ to conserve the stability of the heel. When several bones +and joints are simultaneously affected, and there are sinuses with +mixed infection, amputation is usually indicated, especially in adults. + +#Tuberculous dactylitis# is the name applied to a diffuse form of the +disease as it affects the phalanges, metacarpal or metatarsal bones. The +lesion presents, on a small scale, all the anatomical changes that have +been described as occurring in the medulla of the tibia or ulna, and +they are easily followed in skiagrams. A periosteal type of dactylitis +is also met with. + +The _clinical features_ are those of a spindle-shaped swelling of a +finger or toe, indolent, painless, and interfering but little with the +function of the digit. Recovery may eventually occur without +suppuration, but it is common to have the formation of a cold abscess, +which bursts and forms one or more sinuses. It may be difficult to +differentiate tuberculous dactylitis from the enlargement of the +phalanges in inherited syphilis (syphilitic dactylitis), especially when +the tuberculous lesion occurs in a child who is the subject of inherited +syphilis. + +[Illustration: FIG. 128.--Tuberculous Dactylitis.] + +In the syphilitic lesion, skiagrams usually show a more abundant +formation of new bone, but in many cases the doubt is only cleared up by +observing the results of the tuberculin test or the effects of +anti-syphilitic treatment. + +Sarcoma of a phalanx or metacarpal bone may closely resemble a +dactylitis both clinically and in skiagrams, but it is rare. + +_Treatment._--Recovery under conservative measures is not uncommon, and +the functional results are usually better than those following upon +operative treatment, although in either case the affected finger is +liable to be dwarfed (Fig. 129). The finger should be immobilised in a +splint, and a Bier's bandage applied to the upper arm. Operative +interference is indicated if a cold abscess develops, if there is a +persistent sinus, or if a sequestrum has formed, a point upon which +information is obtained by examination with the X-rays. When a toe is +affected, amputation is the best treatment, but in the case of a finger +it is rarely called for. In the case of a metacarpal or metatarsal bone, +sub-periosteal resection is the procedure of choice, saving the +articular ends if possible. + +[Illustration: FIG. 129.--Shortening of Middle Finger of Adult, the +result of Tuberculous Dactylitis in childhood.] + + +SYPHILITIC DISEASE + +Syphilitic affections of bone may be met with at any period of the +disease, but the graver forms occur in the tertiary stage of acquired +and inherited syphilis. The virus is carried by the blood-stream to all +parts of the skeleton, but the local development of the disease appears +to be influenced by a predisposition on the part of individual bones. + +Syphilitic diseases of bone are much less common in practice than those +due to pyogenic and tuberculous infectious, and they show a marked +predilection for the tibia, sternum, and skull. They differ from +tuberculous affections in the frequency with which they attack the +shafts of bones rather than the articular ends, and in the comparative +rarity of joint complications. + +_Evanescent periostitis_ is met with in acquired syphilis during the +period of the early skin eruptions. The patient complains, especially at +night, of pains over the frontal bone, ribs, sternum, tibiae, or ulnae. +Localised tenderness is elicited on pressure, and there is slight +swelling, which, however, rarely amounts to what may be described as a +_periosteal node_. + +In the later stages of acquired syphilis, _gummatous periostitis and +osteomyelitis_ occur, and are characterised by the formation in the +periosteum and marrow of circumscribed gummata or of a diffuse gummatous +infiltration. The framework of the bone is rarefied in the area +immediately involved, and sclerosed in the parts beyond. If the +gummatous tissue degenerates and breaks down, and especially if the +overlying skin is perforated and septic infection is superadded, the +bone disintegrates and exhibits the condition known as _syphilitic +caries_; sometimes a portion of bone has its blood supply so far +interfered with that it dies--_syphilitic necrosis_. Syphilitic +sequestra are heavier and denser than normal bone, because sclerosis +usually precedes death of the bone. The bones especially affected by +gummatous disease are: the skull, the septum of the nose, the nasal +bones, palate, sternum, femur, tibia, and the bones of the forearm. + +_In the bones of the skull_, gummata may form in the peri-cranium, +diploe, or dura mater. An isolated gumma forms a firm elastic swelling, +shading off into the surroundings. In the macerated bone there is a +depression or an actual perforation of the calvaria; multiple gummata +tend to fuse with one another at their margins, giving the appearance of +a combination of circles: these sometimes surround an area of bone and +cut it off from its blood supply (Fig. 130). If the overlying skin is +destroyed and septic infection superadded, such an isolated area of bone +is apt to die and furnish a sequestrum; the separation of the dead bone +is extremely slow, partly from the want of vascularity in the sclerosed +bone round about, and partly from the density of the sequestrum. In +exceptional cases the necrosis involves the entire vertical plate of the +frontal bone. Pus is formed between the bone and the dura (suppurative +pachymeningitis), and this may be followed by cerebral abscess or by +pyaemia. Gummatous disease in the wall of the orbit may cause +displacement of the eye and paralysis of the ocular muscles. + +[Illustration: FIG. 130.--Syphilitic Disease of Skull, showing a +sequestrum in process of separation.] + +On the inner surface of the skull, the formation of gummatous tissue may +cause pressure on the brain and give rise to intense pain in the head, +Jacksonian epilepsy, or paralysis, the symptoms varying with the seat +and extent of the disease. The cranial nerves may be pressed upon at the +base, especially at their points of exit, and this gives rise to +symptoms of irritation or paralysis in the area of distribution of the +nerves affected. + +_In the septum of the nose, the nasal bones, and the hard palate_, +gummatous disease causes ulceration, which, beginning in the mucous +membrane, spreads to the bones, and being complicated with septic +infection leads to caries and necrosis. In the nose, the disease is +attended with stinking discharge (ozoena), the extrusion of portions of +dead bone, and subsequently with deformity characterised by loss of the +bridge of the nose; in the palate, it is common to have a perforation, +so that the air escapes through the nose in speaking, giving to the +voice a characteristic nasal tone. + +_Syphilitic disease of the tibia_ may be taken as the type of the +affection as it occurs _in the long bones_. Gummatous disease in the +periosteum may be localised and result in the formation of a +well-defined node, or the whole shaft may become the seat of an +irregular nodular enlargement (Fig. 132). If the bone is macerated, it +is found to be heavier and bulkier than normal; there is diffuse +sclerosis with obliteration of the medullary canal, and the surface is +uneven from heaping up of new bone--hyperostosis (Fig. 131). If a +periosteal gumma breaks down and invades the skin, a syphilitic ulcer is +formed with carious bone at the bottom. A central gumma may eat away the +surrounding bone to such an extent that the shaft undergoes pathological +fracture. In the rare cases in which it attacks the articular end of a +long bone, gummatous disease may implicate the adjacent joint and give +rise to syphilitic arthritis. + +[Illustration: FIG. 131.--Syphilitic Hyperostosis and Sclerosis of +Tibia, on section and on surface view.] + +_Clinical Features._--There is severe boring pain--as if a gimlet were +being driven into the bone. It is worst at night, preventing sleep, and +has been ascribed to compression of the nerves in the narrowed Haversian +canals. + +The _periosteal gumma_ appears as a smooth, circumscribed swelling which +is soft and elastic in the centre and firm at the margins, and shades +off into the surrounding bone. The gumma may be completely absorbed or +it may give place to a hard node. In some cases the gumma softens in the +centre, the skin becomes adherent, thin, and red, and finally gives way. +The opening in the skin persists as a sinus, or develops into a typical +ulcer with irregular, crescentic margins; in either case a probe reveals +the presence of carious bone or of a sequestrum. The health may be +impaired as a result of mixed infection, and the absorption of toxins +and waxy degeneration in the viscera may ultimately be induced. + +A _central gumma_ in a long bone may not reveal its presence until it +erupts through the shell and reaches the periosteal surface or invades +an adjacent joint. Sometimes the first manifestation is a fracture of +the bone produced by slight violence. + +In radiograms the appearance of syphilitic bones is usually +characteristic. When there is hyperostosis and sclerosis, the shaft +appears denser and broader than normal, and the contour is uneven or +wavy. When there is a central gumma, the shadow is interrupted by a +rounded clear area, like that of a chondroma or myeloma, but there is +sclerosis round about. + +_Diagnosis._--The conditions most liable to be mistaken for syphilitic +disease of bone are chronic staphylococcal osteomyelitis, tuberculosis, +and sarcoma; and the diagnosis is to be made by the history and progress +of the disease, the result of examination with the X-rays, and the +results of specific tests and treatment. + +_Treatment._--The general health is to be improved by open air, by +nourishing food, and by the administration of cod-liver oil, iron, and +arsenic. Anti-syphilitic remedies should be given, and if they are +administered before there is any destruction of tissue, the benefit +derived from them is usually marked. + +Radiograms show the rapid absorption of the new bone both on the surface +and in the marrow, and are of value in establishing the therapeutic +diagnosis. + +In certain cases, and particularly when there are destructive changes in +the bone complicated with pyogenic infection, specific remedies have +little effect. In cases of persistent or relapsing gummatous disease +with ulceration of skin, it is often necessary to remove the diseased +soft parts with the sharp spoon and scissors, and to gouge or chisel +away the unhealthy bone, on the same lines as in tuberculous disease. +When hyperostosis and sclerosis of the bone is attended with severe pain +which does not yield to blistering, the periosteum may be incised and +the sclerosed bone perforated with a drill or trephine. + +#Lesions of Bone in Inherited Syphilis.#--_Craniotabes_, in which the +flat bones of the skull undergo absorption in patches, was formerly +regarded as syphilitic, but it is now known to result from prolonged +malnutrition from any cause. _Bossing of the skull_ resulting in the +formation of Parrot's nodes is also being withdrawn from the category of +syphilitic affections. The lesions in infancy--epiphysitis, bossing of +the skull, and craniotabes--have been referred to in the chapter on +inherited syphilis. + +_Epiphysitis or Syphilitic Perichondritis._--The first of these terms is +misleading, because the lesion involves the ossifying junction and the +shaft of the bone, and the epiphysis only indirectly. The young bone is +replaced by granulation tissue, so that large clear areas are seen with +the X-rays. The symptoms are referred to the joint, because it is there +that the muscles are inserted and drag on the perichondrium when +movement occurs; swelling is most marked in the vicinity of the joint, +and it may be added to by effusion into the synovial cavity. The baby, +usually under six months, is noticed to be feverish and fretful and to +cry when touched. The mother discovers that the pain is caused by moving +a particular limb, usually the arm, as the humerus, radius, and ulna are +the bones most commonly affected; the limb, moreover, hangs useless at +the side as if paralysed, and the condition was formerly described as +_syphilitic pseudo-paralysis_. + +The lesions met with later correspond to those of the tertiary period of +the acquired disease, but as they affect bones which are still actively +growing, the effects are more striking. Gummatous disease may come and +go over periods of many years, with the result that the external +appearance and architectural arrangement of a long bone come to be +profoundly altered. In the tibia, for example, the shaft is bowed +forward in a gentle curve, which is compared to the curve of a +sabre--"sabre-blade" deformity (Fig. 132). The diffuse thickening all +round the bone obscures the sharp margins so that the bone becomes +circular in section and the anterior and mesial edges are blunted, and +the comparison to a cucumber is deserved. In some cases the tibia is +actually increased in length as well as in girth. + +[Illustration: FIG. 132.--Sabre-blade Deformity of Left Tibia in +Inherited Syphilis. + +(From a photograph lent by Sir George T. Beatson.)] + +The contrast between the grossly enlarged and misshapen tibia and the +normal or even attenuated fibula is a striking one. + +_Treatment_ is carried out on lines similar to those recommended in the +acquired disease. When curving of the tibia causes disability in +walking, the bone may be straightened by a cuneiform resection. + +_Syphilitic dactylitis_ is met with chiefly in children. It may affect +any of the fingers or toes, but is commonest in the first phalanx of the +index-finger or of the thumb. Several fingers may be attacked at the +same time or in succession. The lesion consists in a gummatous +infiltration of the soft parts surrounding the phalanx, or a gummatous +osteomyelitis, but there is practically no tendency to break down and +discharge, or to the formation of a sequestrum as is so common in +tuberculous dactylitis. + +The finger becomes the seat of a swelling, which is more evident on the +dorsal aspect, and, according to the distribution and extent of the +disease, it is acorn-shaped, fusiform, or cylindrical. It is firm and +elastic, and usually painless. The movements are impaired, especially if +the joints are involved. In its early stages the disease is amenable to +anti-syphilitic treatment, and complete recovery is the rule. + + +HYDATID DISEASE + +This rare disease results from the lodgment of the embryos of the taenia +echinoccus, which are conveyed to the marrow by the blood-stream. The +cysts are small, usually about the size of a pin-head, and they are +present in enormous numbers scattered throughout the marrow. The parts +of the skeleton most often affected are the articular ends of the long +bones, the bodies of the vertebrae, and the pelvis. + +As the cysts increase in number and in size, the framework of the bone +is gradually absorbed, and there result excavations or cavities. The +marrow and spongy bone first disappear, the compact tissue then becomes +thin, and pathological fracture may result. The bone becomes expanded, +and the cysts may escape through perforations into the surrounding +cellular tissue, and when thus freed from confinement may attain +considerable dimensions. Suppuration from superadded pyogenic infection +may be attended with extensive necrosis, and lead to disorganisation of +the adjacent joint. + +_Clinical Features._--The patient complains of deep-seated pains. In +superficial bones, such as the tibia, there is enlargement, and it may +be possible to recognise egg-shell crackling, or unequal consistence of +the bone, which is hard in some parts, and doughy and elastic in others. +The disease may pursue an indolent course during months or years until +some complication occurs, such as suppuration or fracture. With the +occurrence of suppuration the disease becomes more active, and abscesses +may form in the soft parts and in the adjacent joint. In the vertebral +column, hydatids give rise to angular deformity and paraplegia. In the +pelvis, there is usually great enlargement of the bones, and when +suppuration occurs it is apt to infect the hip-joint and to terminate +fatally. + +Examination with the X-rays shows the characteristic excavations of the +bone caused by the cysts. The disease is liable to be mistaken for +central tumour, gumma, tuberculosis, or abscess of bone. + +The _treatment_ consists in thorough eradication of the parasite by +operation. The bone is laid open and scraped or resected according to +the extent of the disease, and the raw surfaces swabbed with 1 per cent. +formalin. In advanced cases complicated with spontaneous fracture or +with suppuration, amputation affords the best chance of recovery. + +The lesions in the bones resulting from _actinomycosis_ and from +_mycetoma_, have been described with these diseases. + + +CONSTITUTIONAL DISEASES ATTENDED WITH LESIONS IN THE BONES + +These include rickets, scurvy-rickets, osteomalacia, ostitis deformans, +osteomyelitis fibrosa, fragilitas ossium, and diseases of the nervous +system. + + +RICKETS + +Rickets or rachitis is a constitutional disease associated with +disturbance of nutrition, and attended with changes in the skeleton. +The disease is most common and most severe among the children of the +poorer classes in large cities, who are improperly fed and are brought +up in unhealthy surroundings. There is evidence that the most important +factors in the causation of rickets are ill-health of the mother during +pregnancy, and the administration to the child after its birth of food +which is defective in animal fat, proteids, and salts of lime, or which +contains these in such a form that they are not readily assimilated. The +occurrence of the disease is favoured, and its features are aggravated, +by imperfect oxygenation of the blood as the result of a deficiency of +fresh air and sunlight, want of exercise, and by other conditions which +prevail in the slums of large towns. + +_Pathological Anatomy._--The most striking feature is the softness +(malacia) of the bones, due to excessive absorption of osseous tissue, +and the formation of an imperfectly calcified tissue at the sites of +ossification. The affected bones lose their rigidity, so that they are +bent under the weight of the body, by the traction of muscles, and by +other mechanical forces. + +The _periosteum_ is thick and vascular, and when detached carries with +it plates and spicules of soft porous bone. The new bone may be so +abundant that it forms a thick crust on the surface, and in the flat +bones of the skull this may be heaped up in the form of bosses or ridges +resembling those ascribed to inherited syphilis. + +In the epiphysial cartilages and at the ossifying junctions, all the +processes concerned in ossification, excepting the deposition of lime +salts, occur to an exaggerated degree. The cartilage of the epiphysial +disc proliferates actively and irregularly, so that it becomes softer, +thicker, and wider, and gives rise to a visible swelling, best seen at +the lower end of the radius and lower end of the tibia, and at the +costo-chondral junctions where the series of beaded swellings is known +as the "rickety rosary." + +The ossifying zone is increased in depth; the marrow is abnormally +vascular; and the new bone that is formed is imperfectly calcified. The +result is that the bones may never attain their normal length, and they +remain stunted throughout life as in rickety dwarfs (Fig. 133), or the +shafts may grow unequally and come to deviate from their normal axes as +in knock-knee and bow-knee. + +[Illustration: FIG. 133.--Skeleton of Rickety Dwarf, known as +"Bowed Joseph," leader of the Meal Riots in Edinburgh, who died in 1780. + +(Anatomical Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + +These changes are well brought out in skiagrams; instead of the +well-defined narrow line which represents the epiphysial cartilage, +there is an ill-defined, blurred zone of considerable depth. + +In the shafts of the long bones, owing to the excessive absorption of +bone, the cortex becomes porous, the spongy bone is rarefied, and the +bones readily bend or break under mechanical influences. When the +disease is arrested, a process of repair sets in which often results in +the bones becoming denser and heavier than normal. In the flat bones of +the skull, the absorption may result in the entire disappearance of +areas of bone, leaving a membrane which dimples like thin cardboard +under the pressure of the finger--a condition known as _craniotabes_. + +_Changes in the Skeleton before the Child is able to walk._--The +fontanelles remain open until the end of the second year or longer, and +the frontal and parietal eminences are unduly prominent. There is +sometimes hydrocephalus, and the head is characteristically enlarged. +The jaws are altered so that while the upper jaw is contracted into the +shape of a #V#, the lower jaw is square instead of rounded in outline, +and the teeth do not oppose one another. In the _thorax_, the chief +feature may be the beading at the costo-chondral junctions, principally +of the fifth and sixth ribs or its walls may be contracted, +particularly if respiration is interfered with as a result of bronchial +catarrh or adenoids. The contraction may take the form of a vertical +groove on each side, or of a horizontal groove at the level of the upper +end of the xiphi-sternum; when the sternum and cartilages form a +projection in front, the deformity is known as "pigeon-breast." + +The _spine_ may be curved backwards--_kyphosis_--throughout its +whole extent or only in one part; or it may be curved to one +side--_scoliosis_. + +In the _limbs_, the prominent features are the deficient growth in +length of the long bones, the enlargements at the epiphysial junctions, +and the bending, and occasional greenstick fracture, of the shafts. The +degree of enlargement of the epiphysial junctions is directly +proportionate to the amount of movement to which the bone is subjected +(John Thomson). The curves at this stage depend on the attitude of the +child while sitting or being carried--for example, the arm bones become +bent in children who paddle about the floor with the aid of their arms; +and in a child who lies on its back with the lower limbs everted, the +weight of the limb may lead to curvature of the neck of the femur--coxa +vara. The clavicle or humerus may sustain greenstick fracture from the +child being lifted by the arms; the femur, by a fall. From the extreme +laxity of the ligaments, the joints can be moved beyond the normal +limits, and the child is often observed to twist its limbs into abnormal +attitudes. + +_In Children who have walked._--In these children the most important +deformities occur in the spine, pelvis, and lower extremities, and +result for the most part from yielding of the softened bones under the +weight of the body. Scoliosis is the usual type of spinal curvature, and +in extreme cases it may lead to a pronounced form of hump-back. The +pelvis may remain small (_justo-minor pelvis_), or it may be contracted +in the sagittal plane (_flat pelvis_); when the bones are unusually +soft, the acetabular portions are pushed inwards by the femora bearing +the weight of the body, and the pelvis assumes the shape of a trefoil, +as in the malacia of women. The shaft of the femur is curved forwards +and laterally; the bones of the leg laterally as in bow-leg, or +forwards, or forwards and laterally just above the ankle. The +deformities at the knee (genu valgum, genu varum, and genu recurvatum), +and at the hip (coxa vara), will be described in the volume dealing with +the Extremities. + +The majority of cases seen in surgical practice suffer from the +deformities resulting from rickets rather than from the active disease. +The examination of a large series of children at different ages shows +that the deformities become less and less frequent with each year. Those +who recover may ultimately show no trace of rickets, and this is +especially true of children who grow at the average rate; in those, +however, in whom growth is retarded, especially from the fifth to the +seventh year, the deformities are apt to be permanent. It may be noted +that the scoliosis due to rickets has little tendency towards recovery. + +_Treatment._--The treatment of the disease consists in regulating the +diet, improving the surroundings, and preventing deformity. Phosphorus +in doses of 100th grain may be given dissolved in cod-liver oil, and +preparations of iron and lime may be added with advantage. To avoid +those postures which predispose to deformities, the child should lie as +much as possible. In the well-to-do classes this is readily accomplished +by the aid of a nurse and the use of a perambulator. In hospital +out-patients the child is kept off its feet by the use of a light wooden +splint applied to the lateral aspect of each lower extremity, and +extending from the pelvis to 6 inches beyond the sole. + +When deformities are already present, the treatment depends upon whether +or not there is any prospect of the bone straightening naturally. Under +five years of age this may, as a rule, be confidently expected; the +child should be kept off its feet, and the limbs bathed and massaged. In +children of five or six and upwards, the prospect of natural +straightening is a diminishing one, and it is more satisfactory to +correct the deformity by operation. In rickety curvature of the spine, +the child should lie on a firm mattress, or, to allow of its being taken +into the open air, upon a double Thomas' splint extending from the +occiput to the heels; the muscles acting on the trunk should be braced +up by massage and appropriate exercises. + +#Late Rickets# or #Rachitis Adolescentium# is met with at any age from +nine to seventeen, and is generally believed to be due to a +recrudescence of rickets which had been present in childhood. The +disease is not attended with any disturbance of the general health; the +pathological changes are the same as in infantile rickets, but are for +the most part confined to the ossifying junctions, especially those +which are most active during adolescence, for example at the knee-joint. +The patient is easily tired, complains of pain in the bones, and, unless +care is taken, deformity is liable to ensue. There can be no doubt that +adolescent rickets plays an important part in the production of the +deformities which occur at or near puberty, especially knock-knee and +bow-knee. + +#Scurvy-Rickets# or #Infantile Scurvy#.--This disease, described by +Barlow and Cheadle, is met with in infants under two years who have been +brought up upon sterilised or condensed milk and other proprietary +foods, and is most common in the well-to-do classes. The haemorrhages, +which are so characteristic of the disease, are usually preceded for +some weeks by a cachectic condition, with listlessness and debility and +disinclination for movement. Very commonly the child ceases to move one +of his lower limbs--pseudo-paralysis--and screams if it is touched; a +swelling is found over one of the bones, usually the femur, accompanied +by exquisite tenderness; the skin is tense and shiny, and there may be +some oedema. These symptoms are due to a sub-periosteal haemorrhage, and +associated with this there may be crepitus from separation of an +epiphysis, rarely from fracture of the shaft of the bone. X-ray +photographs show enlargement of the bone, the periosteum being raised +from the shaft and new bone formed in relation to it. Haemorrhages also +occur into the skin, presenting the appearance of bruises, into the +orbit and conjunctiva, and from the mucous membranes. + +The _treatment_ consists in correcting the errors in diet. The infant +should have a wet nurse or a plentiful supply of cow's milk in its +natural state. Anti-scorbutics in the form of orange, lemon, or grape +juice, and of potatoes bruised down in milk, may be given. + +#Osteomalacia.#--The term osteomalacia includes a group of conditions, +closely allied to rickets, in which the bones of adults become soft and +yielding, so that they are unduly liable to bend or break. + +One form occurs in _pregnant and puerperal women_, affecting most +commonly the pelvis and lumbar vertebrae, but sometimes the entire +skeleton. The lime salts are absorbed, the bones lose their rigidity and +bend under the weight of the body and other mechanical influences, with +the result that gross deformities are produced, particularly in the +pelvis, the lumbar spine, and the hip-joints. + +_Neuropathic_ forms occur in certain chronic diseases of the brain and +cord; in some cases the bones lose their lime salts and bend, in others +they become brittle. + +_Osteomalacia associated with New Growths in the Skeleton._--When +_secondary cancer_ is widely distributed throughout the skeleton, it is +associated with softening of the bones, as a result of which they +readily bend or break, and after death are easily cut with a knife. In +the disease known as _multiple myeloma_, the interior of the ribs, +sternum, and bodies of the vertebrae is occupied by a reddish gelatinous +pulp, the structure of which resembles sarcoma; the bones are reduced to +a mere shell, and may break on the slightest pressure; the urine +contains albumose, a substance resembling albumen but coagulating at a +comparatively low temperature (140 F.), and the coagulum is +re-dissolved on boiling, and it is readily precipitated by hydrochloric +acid (Bence-Jones). + +#Ostitis Deformans--Paget's Disease of Bone.#--This rare disease was +first described by Sir James Paget in 1877. In the early stages, the +marrow is transformed into a vascular connective tissue; its bone-eating +functions are exaggerated, and the framework of the bone becomes +rarefied, so that it bends under pressure as in osteomalacia. In course +of time, however, new bone is formed in great abundance; it is at first +devoid of lime salts, but later becomes calcified, so that the bones +regain their rigidity. This formation of new bone is much in excess of +the normal, the bones become large and bulky, their surfaces rough and +uneven, their texture sclerosed in parts, and the medullary canal is +frequently obliterated. These changes are well brought out in X-ray +photographs. The curving of the long bones, which is such a striking +feature of the disease, may be associated with actual lengthening, and +the changes are sometimes remarkably symmetrical (Fig. 135). The bones +forming the cranium may be enormously thickened, the sutures are +obliterated, the distinction into tables and diploe is lost, and, while +the general texture is finely porous, there may be areas as dense as +ivory (Fig. 134). + +[Illustration: FIG. 134.--Changes in the Skull resulting from Ostitis +Deformans. + +(Anatomical Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + +_Clinical Features._--The disease is usually met with in persons over +fifty years of age. It is insidious in its onset, and, the patient's +attention may be first attracted by the occurrence of vague pains in the +back or limbs; by the enlargement and bending of such bones as the tibia +or femur; or by a gradual increase in the size of the head, +necessitating the wearing of larger hats. When the condition is fully +developed, the attitude and general appearance are eminently +characteristic. The height is diminished, and, owing to the curving of +the lower limbs and spine, the arms appear unnaturally long; the head +and upper part of the spine are bent forwards; the legs are held apart, +slightly flexed at the knees, and are rotated out as well as curved; the +whole appearance suggests that of one of the large anthropoid apes. The +muscles of the limbs may waste to such an extent as to leave the large, +curved, misshapen bones covered only by the skin (Fig. 135). In the +majority of cases the bones of the lower extremities are much earlier +and more severely affected than those of the upper extremity, but the +capacity of walking is usually maintained even in the presence of great +deformity. In a case observed by Byrom Bramwell, the patient suffered +from a succession of fractures over a period of years. + +[Illustration: FIG. 135.--Cadaver, illustrating the alterations in the +Lower Limbs resulting from Ostitis Deformans.] + +The disease may last for an indefinite period, the general health +remaining long unaffected. In a considerable number of the recorded +cases one of the bones became the seat of sarcoma. + +#Osteomyelitis Fibrosa.#--This comparatively rare disease, which was +first described by Recklinghausen, presents many interesting features. +Because of its causing deformities of the bones and an undue liability +to fracture, and being chiefly met with in adolescents, it is regarded +by some authors as a juvenile form of Paget's disease. It may be +diffused throughout the skeleton--we have seen it in the skull and in +the bones of the extremities--or it may be confined to a single bone, +usually the femur, or, what is more remarkable, the condition may affect +a portion only of the shaft of a long bone and be sharply defined from +the normal bone in contact with it. + +[Illustration: FIG. 136.--Osteomyelitis Fibrosa affecting Femora in a +man aet. 19. The curving of the bones is due to multiple fractures.] + +On longitudinal section of a long bone during the active stage of the +disease, the marrow is seen to be replaced by a vascular young +connective tissue which encroaches on the surrounding spongy bone, +reducing it to the slenderest proportions; the formation of bone from +the periosteum does not keep pace with the absorption and replacement +going on in the interior, and the cortex may be reduced to a thin shell +of imperfectly calcified bone which can be cut with a knife. The young +connective tissue which replaces the marrow is not unlike that seen in +osteomalacia; it is highly vascular and may show haemorrhages of various +date; there are abundant giant cells of the myeloma type, and +degeneration and liquefaction of tissue may result in the formation of +cysts, which, when they constitute a prominent feature, are responsible +for the name--_osteomyelitis fibrosa cystica_--sometimes applied to the +condition. + +It would appear that most of the recorded cases of _cysts of bone_ owe +their origin to this disease, while the abundance of giant cells with +occasional islands of cartilage in the wall of such cysts is responsible +for the view formerly held that they owed their origin to the +liquefaction of a solid tumour, such as a myeloma, a chondroma, or even +a sarcoma. Although the tissue elements in this disease resemble those +of a new growth arising in the marrow, they differ in their arrangement +and in their method of growth; there is no tendency to erupt through the +cortex of the bone, to invade the soft parts, or to give rise to +secondary growths. + +_Clinical Features._--The onset of the disease is insidious, and +attention is usually first directed to it by the occurrence of fracture +of the shaft of one of the long bones--usually the femur--from violence +that would be insufficient to break a healthy bone. Apart from fracture, +the great increase in the size of one of the long bones and its uneven +contour are sufficiently remarkable to suggest examination with the +X-rays, by means of which the condition is at once recognised. A +systematic examination of the other long bones will often reveal the +presence of the disease at a stage before the bone is altered +externally. + +Symmetrical bossing of the skull was present in the case shown in +Figs. 136 and 137, and there were also scattered patches of brown +pigmentation of the skin of the face, neck, and trunk, similar to those +met with in generalised neuro-fibromatosis. Apart from fracture, the +disease is recognised by the thickening and usually also by the curving +of the shafts of the long bones. It is easy to understand the curvature +of bones that have passed through a soft stage and also of those that +have been broken and badly united, but it is difficult to account for +the curvatures that have no such cause; for example, we have seen +marked curve of the radius in a forearm of which the ulna was quite +straight. The curvature probably resulted from exaggerated growth in +length. + +[Illustration: FIG. 137.--Radiogram of Upper End of Femur showing +appearances in Osteomyelitis Fibrosa.] + +The X-ray appearances vary with the stage of the malady, not estimated +in time, for the condition is chronic and may become stationary, but +according to whether it is progressive or undergoing repair. The shadow +of the bone presents a poor contrast to the soft parts, and no trace of +its original architecture; in extreme cases the shadow of the femur +resembles an unevenly filled sausage (Fig. 137); there is no cortical +layer, the interior shows no trabecular structure, and some of the many +clear areas are probably cysts. The condition extends right up to the +articular cartilage, or, in the case of adolescent bones, up to the +epiphysial cartilage. + +_Prognosis._--The condition does not appear to affect the general +health. The future is concerned with the local conditions, and, +especially in the case of the femur, with its liability to fracture; so +far as we know there is no time limit to this. + +_Treatment_ is confined to protecting the affected bone--usually the +femur--from injury. Operative treatment may be required for lameness due +to a badly united fracture. + +#Neuropathic Atrophy of Bone.#--The conditions included under this +heading occur in association with diseases of the nervous system. + +Most importance attaches to the fragility of the bones met with in +general paralysis of the insane, locomotor ataxia, and other chronic +diseases of the brain and spinal cord. The bones are liable to be +fractured by forces which would be insufficient to break a healthy bone. +In _locomotor ataxia_ the fractures affect especially the bones of the +lower extremity, and may occur before there are any definite nerve +symptoms, but they are more often met with in the ataxic stage, when the +abrupt and uncontrolled movements of the limbs may play a part in their +causation. They may be unattended with pain, and may fail to unite; when +repair does take place, it is sometimes attended with an excessive +formation of callus. Joint lesions of the nature of Charcot's disease +may occur simultaneously with the alterations in the bones. In +_syringomyelia_ pathological fracture is not so frequent as in locomotor +ataxia; it is more likely to occur in the bones of the upper extremity, +and especially in the humerus. In some cases of _epilepsy_ the bones +break when the patient falls in a fit, and there is usually an +exaggerated amount of comminution. + +In these affections the bones present no histological or chemical +alterations, and the X-ray shadow does not differ from the normal. It is +maintained, therefore, that the disposition to fracture does not depend +upon a fragility of the bone, but on the loss of the muscular sense and +of common sensation in the bones, as a result of which there is an +inability properly to throw the muscles into action and dispose the +limbs so as to place them under the most favourable conditions to meet +external violence. + +#Osteogenesis Imperfecta#, #Fragilitas Ossium#, or #Congenital +Osteopsathyrosis#.--These terms are used to describe a condition in +which an undue fragility of the bones dates from intra-uterine life. It +may occur in several members of the same family. In severe cases, +intra-uterine fractures occur, and during parturition fresh fractures +are almost sure to be produced, so that at birth there is a combination +of recent fractures and old fractures united and partly united, with +bendings and thickenings of the bones. Large areas of the cranial vault +may remain membranous. + +After birth the predisposition to fracture continues, the bones are +easily broken, the fractures are attended with little or no pain, the +crepitus is soft, and although union may take place, it may be delayed +and be attended with excess of callus. Cases have been observed in which +a child has sustained over a hundred fractures. + +The bones show a feeble shadow with the X-rays, and appear thin and +atrophied; the medullary canal is increased at the expense of the +cortex. + +In young infants in whom multiple fractures occur the prognosis as to +life is unfavourable, and no satisfactory treatment of the disease has +been formulated. If the patient survives, the tendency to fracture +gradually disappears. + +#Hypertrophic Pulmonary Osteo-Arthropathy.#--This condition, which was +described by Marie in 1890, is secondary to disease in the chest, such +as chronic phthisis, empyema, bronchiectasis, or sarcoma of the lung. +There is symmetrical enlargement and deformity of the hands and feet; +the shafts of the bones are thickened, and the soft tissues of the +terminal segments of the digits hypertrophied. The fingers come to +resemble drum-sticks, and the thumb the clapper of a bell. The nails are +convex, and incurved at their free ends, suggesting a resemblance to the +beak of a parrot. There is also enlargement of the lower ends of the +bones of the forearm and leg, and effusion into the wrist and +ankle-joints. Skiagrams of the hands and feet show a deposit of new bone +along the shafts of the phalanges. + + +TUMOURS OF BONE + +New growths which originate in the skeleton are spoken of as _primary +tumours_; those which invade the bones, either by metastasis from other +parts of the body or by spread from adjacent tissues, as _secondary_. A +tumour of bone may grow from the cellular elements of the periosteum, +the marrow, or the epiphysial cartilage. + +Primary tumours are of the connective-tissue type, and are usually +solitary, although certain forms, such as the chondroma, may be multiple +from the outset. + +_Periosteal tumours_ are at first situated on one side of the bone, but +as they grow they tend to surround it completely. Innocent periosteal +tumours retain the outer fibrous layer as a capsule. Malignant tumours +tend to perforate the periosteal capsule and invade the soft parts. + +_Central_ or _medullary tumours_ as they increase in size replace the +surrounding bone, and simultaneously new bone is formed on the surface; +as this is in its turn absorbed, further bone is formed beneath the +periosteum, so that in time the bone is increased in girth, and is said +to be "expanded" by the growth in its interior. + +#Primary Tumours--Osteoma.#--When the tumour projects from the surface +of a bone it is called an _exostosis_. When growing from bones developed +in membrane, such as the flat bones of the skull, it is usually dense +like ivory, and the term _ivory exostosis_ is employed. When derived +from hyaline cartilage--for example, at the ends of the long bones--it +is known as a _cartilaginous exostosis_. This is invested with a cap of +cartilage from which it continues to grow until the skeleton attains +maturity. + +An exostosis forms a rounded or mushroom-shaped tumour of limited size, +which may be either sessile or pedunculated, and its surface is smooth +or nodulated (Figs. 138 and 139). A cartilaginous exostosis in the +vicinity of a joint may be invested with a synovial sac or bursa--the +so-called _exostosis bursata_. The bursa may be derived from the +synovial membrane of the adjacent joint with which its cavity sometimes +communicates, or it may be of adventitious origin; when it is the seat +of bursitis and becomes distended with fluid, it may mask the underlying +exostosis, which then requires a radiogram for its demonstration. + +[Illustration: FIG. 138.--Radiogram of Right Knee showing Multiple +Exostoses.] + +_Clinically_, the osteoma forms a hard, indolent tumour attached to a +bone. The symptoms to which it gives rise depend on its situation. In +the vicinity of a joint, it may interfere with movement; on the medial +side of the knee it may incapacitate the patient from riding. When +growing from the dorsum of the terminal phalanx of the great +toe--_subungual exostosis_--it displaces the nail, and may project +through its matrix at the point of the toe, while the soft parts over it +may be ulcerated from pressure (Fig. 107). It incapacitates the patient +from wearing a boot. When it presses on a nerve-trunk it causes pains +and cramps. In the orbit it displaces the eyeball; in the nasal fossae +and in the external auditory meatus it causes obstruction, which may be +attended with ulceration and discharge. In the skull it may project +from the outer table, forming a smooth rounded swelling, or it may +project from the inner table and press upon the brain. + +The diagnosis is to be made by the slow growth of the tumour, its +hardness, and by the shadow which it presents with the X-rays (Fig. 138). + +An osteoma which does not cause symptoms may be left alone, as it ceases +to grow when the skeleton is mature and has no tendency to change its +benign character. If causing symptoms, it is removed by dividing the +neck or base of the tumour with a chisel, care being taken to remove the +whole of the overlying cartilage. The dense varieties met with in the +bones of the skull present greater difficulties; if it is necessary to +remove them, the base or neck of the tumour is perforated in many +directions with highly tempered drills rotated by some form of engine, +and the division is completed with the chisel. + +[Illustration: FIG. 139.--Multiple Exotoses of both limbs. + +(Photograph lent by Sir George T. Beatson.)] + +#Multiple Exostoses.#--This disease, which, by custom, is still placed +in the category of tumours, is to be regarded as a disorder of growth, +dating from intra-uterine life and probably due to a disturbance in the +function of the glands of internal secretion, the thyreoid being the one +which is most likely to be at fault (Arthur Keith). The disorder of +growth is confined to those elements of the skeleton where a core of +bone formed in cartilage comes to be encased in a sheath of bone formed +beneath the periosteum. To indicate this abnormality the name +_diaphysial aclasis_ has been employed by Arthur Keith at the suggestion +of Morley Roberts. + +Bones formed entirely in cartilage are exempt, namely, the tarsal and +carpal bones, the epiphyses of the long bones, the sternum, and the +bodies of the vertebrae. Bones formed entirely in membrane, that is, +those of the face and of the cranial vault, are also exempt. The +disorder mainly affects the ossifying junctions of the long bones of the +extremities, the vertebral border of the scapula, and the cristal border +of the ilium. + +_Clinically_ the disease is attended with the gradual and painless +development during childhood or adolescence of a number of tumours or +irregular projections of bone, at the ends of the long bones, the +vertebral border of the scapula, and the cristal border of the ilium. +They exhibit a rough symmetry; they rarely attain any size; and they +usually cease growing when the skeleton attains maturity--the conversion +of cartilage into bone being then completed. While they originate from +the ossifying junctions of the long bones, they tend, as the shaft +increases in length, to project from the surface of the bone at some +distance from the ossifying junction and to "point" away from it. They +may cause symptoms by "locking" the adjacent joint or by pressing upon +nerve-trunks or blood vessels. + +In a considerable proportion of cases, the disturbance of growth is +further manifested by dwarfing of the long bones; these are not only +deficient in length but are sometimes also curved and misshapen, which +accounts for the condition being occasionally confused with the +disturbances of growth resulting from rickets. In about one-third of the +recorded cases there is a dislocation of the head of the radius on one +or on both sides, a result of unequal growth between the bones of the +forearm. + +[Illustration: FIG. 140.--Multiple Cartilaginous Exostoses in a +man aet. 27. The scapular tumour projecting above the right clavicle has +taken on active growth and pressed injuriously on the cords of the +brachial plexus.] + +In early adult life, one of the tumours, instead of undergoing +ossification, may take on active growth and exhibit the features of a +chondro-sarcoma, pressing injuriously upon adjacent structures (Fig. 140) +and giving rise later to metastases in the lungs. + +The _X-ray appearances_ of the bones affected are of a striking +character; apart from the outgrowths of bone or "tumours" there is +evident a widespread alteration in the internal architecture of the +bones, which suggests analogies with other disturbances of ossification +such as achondroplasia and osteomyelitis fibrosa. The condition is one +that runs in families, sometimes through several generations; we have +more than once seen a father and son together in the hospital +waiting-room. + +As regards _treatment_, there is no indication for surgical interference +except when one or other tumour is a source of disability as by pressing +upon a nerve-trunk or by locking a joint, in which case it is easily +removed by chiselling through its neck. + +[Illustration: FIG. 141.--Multiple Cartilaginous Exostoses in a +man aet. 27, the same as in Fig. 140.] + +_Diffuse Osteoma, Leontiasis Ossea._--This rare affection was described +by Virchow, and named leontiasis ossea because of the disfigurement to +which it gives rise. It usually commences in adolescence as a diffuse +overgrowth first of one and then of both maxillae; these bones are +enlarged in all directions and project on the face, and the nasal fossae +and the maxillary and frontal sinuses become filled up with bone, which +encroaches also on the orbital cavities. In addition to the hideous +deformity, the patient suffers from blocking of the nose, loss of smell, +and protrusion of the eyes, sometimes followed by loss of sight. The +condition is liable to spread to the zygomatic and frontal bones, the +vault of the skull, and to the mandible. The base of the skull is not +affected. The disease is of slow progress and may become arrested; life +may be prolonged for many years, or may be terminated by brain +complications or by intercurrent affections. In certain cases it is +possible to remove some of the more disfiguring of the bony masses. + +A less aggressive form, confined to the maxilla on one side, is +sometimes met with, and, in a case of this variety under our own +observation, the disfigurement, which was the only subject of complaint, +was removed, after reflecting the soft parts, by paring away the excess +of bone; this is easily done as the bone is spongy, and at an early +stage, imperfectly calcified. + +A remarkable form of _unilateral hypertrophy and diffuse osteoma of the +skull_, following the distribution of the fifth nerve, has seen +described by Jonathan Hutchinson and Alexis Thomson. + +#Chondroma.#--Cartilaginous tumours, apart from those giving rise to +multiple exostoses, grow from the long bones and from the scapula, +ilium, ribs, or jaws. They usually project from the surface of the bone, +and may attain an enormous size; sometimes they grow in the interior of +a bone, the so-called _enchondroma_. + +The hyaline cartilage composing the tumour frequently undergoes +myxomatous degeneration, resulting in the formation of a glairy, +semi-fluid jelly, and if this change takes place throughout the tumour +it comes to resemble a cyst. On the other hand, the cartilage may +undergo calcification or ossification. The most important transition of +all is that into sarcoma, the so-called _malignant chondroma_ or +_chondro-sarcoma_, which is associated with rapid increase in size, +and parts of the tumour may be carried off in the blood-stream and give +rise to secondary growths, especially in the lungs. + +Cases have been met with in which certain parts of the skeleton--only +those developed in cartilage--were so uniformly permeated with cartilage +that the condition has been described as a "chondromatosis" and is +regarded as dating from an early period of foetal life. Unlike the +condition known as multiple cartilaginous exostoses, it is a malignant +disease. + +[Illustration: FIG. 142.--Multiple Chondromas of Phalanges and +Metacarpals in a boy aet. 10 (cf. Fig. 143).] + +The chondroma is met with as a slowly growing tumour which is specially +common in the bones of the hand, often in a multiple form (Figs. 142 and +144). The surface is smooth or lobulated, and in consistence the tumour +may be dense and elastic like normal cartilage, or may present areas of +softening, or of bony hardness. The skin moves freely over it, except in +relation to the bones of the fingers, where it may become adherent and +ulcerate, simulating the appearance of a malignant tumour. Large tumours +growing from the bones of the extremities may implicate the main +vessels and nerves, either surrounding them or pressing on them. + +Portions of a chondroma, which have undergone calcification or +ossification, throw a dark shadow with the X-rays; unaltered cartilage +and myxomatous tissue appear as clear areas. + +[Illustration: FIG. 143.--Skiagram of Multiple Chondromas shown +in Fig. 142.] + +_Treatment._--It is necessary to remove the whole tumour, and in +chondromas growing from the surface of the bone, especially if they are +pedunculated, this is comparatively easy. When a bone, such as the +scapula or mandible, is involved, it is better to excise the bone, or at +least the part of it which bears the tumour. In the case of central +tumours the shell of bone is removed over an area sufficient to allow of +the enucleation of the tumour, or the affected portion of bone is +resected. Should there be evidence of malignancy, such as increased rate +of growth, a tube of radium should be inserted, and in advanced cases +with destruction of tissue, amputation may be called for. + +[Illustration: FIG. 144.--Multiple Chondromas in Hand of boy aet. 8] + +In multiple chondromas of the hand in young subjects, it was formerly +the custom to amputate the limb; an attempt should be made to avoid this +by shelling out the larger tumours individually, and persevering with +the application of the X-rays or of radium to inhibit the growth of the +smaller ones. + +Chondromas springing from the pelvic bones usually arise in the region +of the sacro-iliac joint; they project into the pelvis and press on the +bladder and rectum, and on the sciatic and obturator nerves; sometimes +also on the iliac veins, causing oedema of the legs. They are liable to +take on malignant characters, and rarely lend themselves to complete +removal by operation. + +#Fibroma# is met with chiefly as a periosteal growth in relation to the +mouth and pharynx, the _simple epulis_ of the alveolar margin and the +_naso-pharyngeal polypus_ being the most common examples. We have met +with a fibroma in the interior of the lower end of the femur of an +adult, causing expansion of the bone with decided increase in girth and +liability to pathological fracture; it is possible that this represents +the cured stage of osteomyelitis fibrosa. + +_Myxoma_, _lipoma_, and _angioma_ of bone are all rare. + +#Myeloma.#--The myeloid tumour, which is sometimes classified with the +sarcomas, contains as its chief elements large giant cells, like those +normally present in the marrow. On section these tumours present a +brownish-red or chocolate colour, and, being highly vascular, are liable +to haemorrhages, and therefore also to pigmentation, and to the formation +of blood cysts. Sometimes the arterial vessels are so dilated as to +impart to the tumour an aneurysmal pulsation and bruit. The enlargement +or "expansion" of the bone results in the cortex being represented by a +thin shell of bone, which may crackle on pressure--parchment or +egg-shell crackling. + +The myeloma is most often met with between the ages of twenty-five and +forty in the upper end of the tibia or lower end of the femur. It grows +slowly and causes little pain, and may long escape recognition unless an +examination is made with the X-rays. Although these tumours have been +known to give rise to metastases, they are, as a rule, innocent and are +to be treated as such. When located in the shaft of a long bone, +pathological fracture is liable to occur. + +_Diagnosis and X-ray Appearances of Myeloma._--The early diagnosis of +myeloma is made with the aid of the X-rays: the typical appearance is +that of a rounded or oval clear area bounded by a shell of bone of +diminishing thickness (Fig. 145). The inflammatory lesions at the ends +of the long bones--tubercle, syphilitic gumma, and Brodie's abscess, +that resemble myeloma, are all attended with the formation of new bone +in greater or lesser amount. The myeloma is also to be diagnosed from +chondroma, from sarcoma, and from osteomyelitis fibrosa cystica. + +[Illustration: FIG. 145.--Radiogram of Myeloma of Humerus. + +(Mr. J. W. Struthers' case.)] + +_Treatment._--In early cases the cortex is opened up to give free access +to the tumour tissue, which is scraped out with the spoon. Bloodgood +advises the use of Esmarch's tourniquet, and that the curetting be +followed by painting with pure carbolic acid and then rinsing with +alcohol; a rod of bone is inserted to fill the gap. In advanced cases +the segment of bone is resected and a portion of the tibia or fibula +from the other limb inserted into the gap; a tube of radium should also +be introduced. + +The coexistence of diffuse myelomatosis of the skeleton and albumosuria +(Bence-Jones) is referred to on p. 474. Myeloma occurs in the jaws, +taking origin in the marrow or from the periosteum of the alveolar +process, and is described elsewhere. + +#Sarcoma# and #endothelioma# are the commonest tumours of bone, and +present wide variations in structure and in clinical features. +Structurally, two main groups may be differentiated: (1) the soft, +rapidly growing cellular tumours, and (2) those containing fully formed +fibrous tissue, cartilage, or bone. + +(1) The _soft cellular tumours_ are composed mainly of spindle or round +cells; they grow from the marrow of the spongy ends or from the +periosteum of the long bones, the diploe of the skull, the pelvis, +vertebrae, and jaws. As they grow they may cause little alteration in the +contour of the bone, but they eat away its framework and replace it, so +that the continuity of the bone is maintained only by tumour tissue, and +pathological fracture is a frequent result. The small round-celled +sarcomas are among the most malignant tumours of bone, growing with +great rapidity, and at an early stage giving rise to secondary growths. + +(2) The second group includes the _fibro-_, _osteo-_, and +_chondro-sarcomas_, and combinations of these; in all of them fully +formed tissues or attempts at fully formed tissues predominate over the +cellular elements. They grow chiefly from the deeper layer of the +periosteum, and at first form a projection on the surface, but later +tend to surround the bone (Fig. 150), and to invade its interior, +filling up the marrow spaces with a white, bone-like substance; in the +flat bones of the skull they may traverse the diploe and erupt on the +inner table. The tumour tissue next the shaft consists of a dense, +white, homogeneous material, from which there radiate into the softer +parts of the tumour, spicules, needles, and plates, often exhibiting a +fan-like arrangement (Fig. 151). The peripheral portion consists of soft +sarcomatous tissue, which invades the overlying soft parts. The +articular cartilage long resists destruction. The ossifying sarcoma is +met with most often in the femur and tibia, less frequently in the +humerus, skull, pelvis, and jaws. In the long bones it may grow from the +shaft, while the chondro-sarcoma more often originates at the +extremities. Sometimes they are multiple, several tumours appearing +simultaneously or one after another. Secondary growths are met with +chiefly in the lungs, metastasis taking place by way of the veins. + +[Illustration: FIG. 146.--Periosteal Sarcoma of Femur in a young +subject.] + +[Illustration: FIG. 147.--Periosteal Sarcoma of Humerus, after +maceration. + +(Anatomical Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + +_Clinical Features._--Sarcoma is usually met with before the age of +thirty, and is comparatively common in children. Males suffer oftener +than females, in the proportion of two to one. + +In _periosteal sarcoma_ the presence of a swelling is usually the first +symptom; the tumour is fusiform, firm, and regular in outline, and when +it occurs near the end of a long bone the limb frequently assumes a +characteristic "leg of mutton" shape (Fig. 146). The surface may be +uniform or bossed, the consistence varies at different parts, and the +swelling gradually tapers off along the shaft. On firm pressure, fine +crepitation may be felt from crushing of the delicate framework of new +bone. + +[Illustration: FIG. 148.--Chondro-Sarcoma of Scapula in a man aet. 63; +removal of the scapula was followed two years later by metastases and +death.] + +In _central sarcoma_ pain is the first symptom, and it is usually +constant, dull, and aching; is not obviously increased by use of the +limb, but is often worse at night. Swelling occurs late, and is due to +expansion of the bone; it is fusiform or globular, and is at first +densely hard, but in time there may be parchment-like or egg-shell +crackling from yielding of the thin shell. The swelling may pulsate, and +a bruit may be heard over it. In advanced cases it may be impossible to +differentiate between a periosteal and a central tumour, either +clinically or after the specimen has been laid open. + +Pathological fracture is more common in central tumours, and sometimes +is the first sign that calls attention to the condition. Consolidation +rarely takes place, although there is often an attempt at union by the +formation of cartilaginous callus. + +[Illustration: FIG. 149.--Central Sarcoma of Lower End of Femur, +invading the knee-joint. + +(Museum of Royal College of Surgeons, Edinburgh.)] + +[Illustration: FIG. 150.--Osseous Shell of Osteo-Sarcoma of Upper Third +of Femur, after maceration.] + +The soft parts over the tumour for a long time preserve their normal +appearance; or they become oedematous, and the subcutaneous venous +network is evident through the skin. Elevation of the temperature over +the tumour, which may amount to two degrees or more, is a point of +diagnostic significance, as it suggests an inflammatory lesion. + +The adjacent joint usually remains intact, although its movements may be +impaired by the bulk of the tumour or by effusion into the cavity. + +Enlargement of the neighbouring lymph glands does not necessarily imply +that they have become infected with sarcoma for the enlargement may +disappear after removal of the primary growth; actual infection of the +glands, however, does sometimes occur, and in them the histological +structure of the parent tumour is reproduced. + +To obtain a reasonable prospect of cure, the _diagnosis_ must be made at +an early stage. Great reliance is to be placed on information gained by +examination with the X-rays. + +[Illustration: FIG. 151.--Radiogram of Osteo-Sarcoma of Upper Third +of Femur.] + +_X-ray Appearances._--In periosteal tumours that do not ossify, there is +merely erosion of bone, and the shadow is not unlike that given by +caries; in ossifying tumours, the arrangement of the new bone on the +surface is characteristic, and when it takes the form of spicules at +right angles to the shaft, it is pathognomic. + +In soft central tumours, there is disappearance of bone shadow in the +area of the tumour, while above and below or around this, the shadow is +that of normal bone right up to the clear area. In many respects the +X-ray appearances resemble those of myeloma. In tumours in which there +is a considerable amount of imperfectly formed new bone, this gives a +shadow which barely replaces that of the original bone, in parts it may +even add to it--the resulting picture differing widely in different +cases; but it is usually possible to differentiate it from that caused +by bacterial infections of the bone and from lesions of the adjacent +joint. + +[Illustration: FIG. 152.--Radiogram of Chondro-Sarcoma of Upper End of +Humerus in a woman aet. 29.] + +Skiagraphy is not only of assistance in differentiating new growths from +other diseases of bone, but may also yield information as to the +situation and nature of the tumour, which may have important bearings on +its treatment by operation. + +When fracture of a long bone takes place in an adolescent or young adult +from comparatively slight violence, disease of the bone should be +suspected and an X-ray examination made. + +In difficult cases the final appeal is to exploratory incision and +microscopical examination of a portion of the tumour; this should be +done when the major operation has been arranged for, the surgeon waiting +until the examination is completed. + +The _prognosis_ varies widely. In general, it may be said that +periosteal tumours are less favourable than central ones, because they +are more liable to give rise to metastases. Permanent cures are +unfortunately the exception. + +_Treatment._--When one of the bones of a limb is involved, the usual +practice has been to perform amputation well above the growth, and this +may still be recommended as a routine procedure. There are reasons, +however, which may be urged against its continuance. High amputation is +unnecessary in the more benign sarcomas, and in the more malignant forms +is usually unavailing to prevent a fatal issue either from local +recurrence or from metastases in the lungs or elsewhere. Following +the lead of Mikulicz, a considerable number of permanent cures have been +obtained by resecting the portion of bone which is the seat of the +tumour, and substituting for it a corresponding portion from the tibia +or fibula of the other limb. In a cellular sarcoma of the humerus of a +boy we resected the shaft and inserted his fibula ten years ago, and he +shows no sign of recurrence. When resection is impracticable, a +subcapsular enucleation is performed, followed by the insertion of +radium. + +#Pulsating Haematoma# or #Aneurysm of Bone#.--A limited number of these +are innocent cavernous tumours dating from a congenital angioma. The +majority would appear to be the result of changes in a sarcoma, +endothelioma, or myeloma. The tumour tissue largely disappears, while +the vessels and vascular spaces undergo a remarkable development. The +tumour may come to be represented by one large blood-containing space +communicating with the arteries of the limb; the walls of the space +consist of the remains of the original tumour, plus a shell of bone of +varying thickness. The most common seats of the condition are the lower +end of the femur, the upper end of the tibia, and the bones of the +pelvis. + +The _clinical features_ are those of a pulsating tumour of slow +development, and as in true aneurysm, the pulsation and bruit disappear +on compression of the main artery. The origin of the tumour from bone +may be revealed by the presence of egg-shell crackling, and by +examination with the X-rays. + +If the condition is believed to be innocent, the treatment is the same +as for aneurysm--preferably by ligation of the main artery; if +malignant, it is the same as for sarcoma. + +#Secondary Tumours of Bone.#--These embrace two groups of new growth, +those which give rise to secondary growths in the marrow of bones and +those which spread to bone by direct continuity. + +_Metastatic Tumours._--Excepting certain cancers which give rise to +metastases by lymphatic permeation (Handley), the common metastases +arising in the bone-marrow reach their destination through the +blood-stream. + +[Illustration: FIG. 153.--Epitheliomatous Ulcer of Leg with direct +extension to Tibia. + +(Lord Lister's specimen. Anatomical Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + +Secondary cancer is a comparatively common disease, and, as in +metastases in other tissues, the secondary growths resemble the parent +tumour. The soft forms grow rapidly, and eat away the bone, without +altering its shape or form. In slowly growing forms there may be +considerable formation of imperfectly formed bone, often deficient in +lime salts; this condition may be widely diffused throughout the +skeleton, and, as it is associated with softening and bending of the +bones, it is known as _cancerous osteomalacia_. Secondary cancer of bone +is attended with pain, or it suddenly attracts notice by the occurrence +of pathological fracture--as, for example, in the shaft of the femur or +humerus. In the vertebrae, it is attended with a painful form of +paraplegia, which may involve the lower or all four extremities. On the +other hand, the disease may show itself clinically as a tumour of bone, +which may attain a considerable size, and may be mistaken for a sarcoma, +unless the existence of the primary cancer is discovered. + +The cancers most liable to give rise to metastasis in bone are those of +the breast, liver, uterus, prostate, colon, and rectum; hyper-nephroma +of the kidney may also give rise to metastases in bone. + +_Secondary tumours derived from the thyreoid gland_ require special +mention, because they are peculiar in that neither the primary growth in +the thyreoid nor the secondary growth in the bones is necessarily +malignant. They are therefore amenable to operative treatment. + +_Secondary sarcoma_, whether derived from a primary growth in the bone +or in the soft parts, is much rarer than secondary cancer. Its removal +by operation is usually contra-indicated, but we have known of cases +terminating fatally in which the _section_ revealed only one metastasis, +the removal of which would have benefited the patient. + +In all of these conditions, examination of the bones with the X-rays +gives valuable information and often disclose unsuspected metastases. + +_Cancer of Bone resulting from Direct Extension from Soft Parts._--In +this group there are also two clinical types. The first is met with in +relation to _epithelioma of a mucous surface_--for example, the palate, +tongue, gums, antrum, frontal sinus, auditory meatus, or middle ear. +They will be described under these special regions. + +The second type is met with in relation to _epithelioma occurring in a +sinus_, the sequel of suppurative osteomyelitis, compound fracture, or +tuberculous disease. The patient has usually had a discharging sinus for +a great number of years: we have known it to last as many as fifty. The +epithelioma originates at the skin orifice of the sinus, and spreads to +the bone and into its interior, where the progress of the cancer is +resisted by dense bone, which obliterates the medullary canal. Although +its progress is slow, the infiltration of the bone is usually more +extensive than appears externally. It is recognised clinically by the +characteristic cauliflower growth at the orifice of the sinus, and by +the offensive nature of the discharge. A similar epithelioma may arise +in connection with a _chronic ulcer of the leg_. The cancer may infect +the femoral lymph glands. The operative treatment is influenced by the +extent of the disease in the soft parts overlying the bone, and consists +in wide removal of the diseased tissues and resection of the bone, or in +amputation. + +#Cysts of Bone.#--With the exception of hydatid cysts, cysts in the +interior of bone are the result of the liquefaction of solid tissue; +this may be that of chondroma, myeloma, or sarcoma, but more commonly of +the marrow in osteomyelitis fibrosa. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +DISEASES OF JOINTS + + +Definition of terms--Ankylosis. DISEASES: Errors of + development--Bacterial diseases: _Pyogenic_; _Gonorrhoeal_; + _Tuberculous_; _Syphilitic_; _Acute rheumatism_--Diseases + associated with certain constitutional conditions: _Gout_; _Chronic + articular rheumatism_; _Arthritis deformans_; + _Haemophilia_--Diseases associated with affections of the nervous + system: _Neuro-arthropathies_; _Charcot's disease_--Hysterical or + mimetic affections of joints--Tumours and cysts--Loose bodies. + +#Definition of Terms.#--The term _synovitis_ is applied to any reaction +which affects the synovial membrane of a joint. It is usually associated +with effusion of fluid, and this may be serous, sero-fibrinous, or +purulent. As the term synovitis merely refers to the tissue involved, it +should always be used with an adjective--such as gouty, gonorrhoeal, or +tuberculous--which indicates its pathological nature. + +The terms _hydrops_, _hydrarthrosis_, and _chronic serous synovitis_ are +synonymous, and are employed when a serous effusion into the joint is +the prominent clinical feature. Hydrops may occur apart from +disease--for example, in the knee-joint from repeated sprains, or when +there is a loose body in the joint--but is met with chiefly in the +chronic forms of synovitis which result from gonorrhoea, tuberculosis, +syphilis, arthritis deformans, or arthropathies of nerve origin. + +_Arthritis_ is the term applied when not only the synovial membrane but +the articular surfaces, and it may be also the ends of the bones, are +involved, and it is necessary to prefix a qualifying adjective which +indicates its nature. When effusion is present, it may be serous, as in +arthritis deformans, or sero-fibrinous or purulent, as in certain forms +of pyogenic and tuberculous arthritis. Wasting of the muscles, +especially the extensors, in the vicinity of the joint is a constant +accompaniment of arthritis. On account of the involvement of the +articular surfaces, arthritis is apt to be followed by ankylosis. + +The term _empyema_ is sometimes employed to indicate that the cavity of +the joint contains pus. This is observed chiefly in chronic disease of +pyogenic or tuberculous origin, and is usually attended with the +formation of abscesses outside the joint. + +_Ulceration of cartilage_ and _caries of the articular surfaces_ are +common accompaniments of the more serious and progressive forms of joint +disease, especially those of bacterial origin. The destruction of +cartilage may be secondary to disease of the synovial membrane or of the +subjacent bone. When the disease begins as a synovitis, the synovial +membrane spreads over the articular surface, fuses with the cartilage +and eats into it, causing defects or holes which are spoken of as +ulcers. When the disease begins in the bone, the marrow is converted +into granulation tissue, which eats into the cartilage and separates it +from the bone. Following on the destruction of the cartilage, the +articular surface of the bone undergoes disintegration, a condition +spoken of as _caries of the articular surface_. The occurrence of +ulceration of cartilage and of articular caries is attended with the +clinical signs of fixation of the joint from involuntary muscular +contraction, wasting of muscles, and starting pains. These _starting +pains_ are the result of sudden involuntary movements of the joint. They +occur most frequently as the patient is dropping off to sleep; the +muscles becoming relaxed, the sensitive ulcerated surfaces jar on one +another, which causes sudden reflex contraction of the muscles, and the +resulting movement being attended with severe pain, wakens the patient +with a start. Advanced articular caries is usually associated with some +abnormal attitude and with shortening of the limb. It may be possible to +feel the bony surfaces grate upon one another. When all its constituent +elements are damaged or destroyed, a joint is said to be _disorganised_. +Should recovery take place, repair is usually attended with union of the +opposing articular surfaces either by fibrous tissue or by bone. + +#Conditions of Impaired Mobility of Joints.#--There are four conditions +of impaired mobility in joints: rigidity, contracture, ankylosis, and +locking. _Rigidity_ is the fixation of a joint by involuntary +contraction of muscles, and is of value as a sign of disease in +deep-seated joints, such as the hip. It disappears under anaesthesia. + +_Contracture_ is the term applied when the fixation is due to permanent +shortening of the soft parts around a joint--muscles, tendons, +ligaments, fasciae, or skin. As the structures on the flexor aspect are +more liable to undergo such shortening, contracture is nearly always +associated with flexion. Contracture may result from disease of the +joint, or from conditions outside it--for example, disease in one of +the adjacent bones, or lesions of the nerves. + +_Ankylosis_ is the term applied when impaired mobility results from +changes involving the articular surfaces. It is frequently combined with +contracture. Three anatomical varieties of ankylosis are +recognised--(a) The _fibrous_, in which there are adhesions between +the opposing surfaces, which may be in the form of loose isolated bands +of fibrous tissue, or may bind the bones so closely together as to +obliterate the cavity of the joint. The resulting stiffness, therefore, +varies from a mere restriction of the normal range of movement, up to a +close union of the bones which prevents movement. Fibrous ankylosis may +follow upon injury, especially dislocation or fracture implicating a +joint, or it may result from any form of arthritis. (b) _Cartilaginous +ankylosis_ implies the fusion of two apposed cartilaginous surfaces. It +is often found between the patella and the trochlear surface of the +femur in tuberculous disease of the knee. The fusion of the +cartilaginous surfaces is preceded by the spreading of a vascular +connective tissue, derived from the synovial membrane, over the +articular cartilage. Clinically, it is associated with absolute +immobility, (c) _Bony ankylosis_ or _synostosis_ is an osseous union +between articulating surfaces (Figs. 154 and 155). It may follow upon +fibrous or cartilaginous ankylosis, or may result from the fusion of two +articular surfaces which have lost their cartilage and become covered +with granulations. In the majority of cases it is to be regarded as a +reparative process, presenting analogies with the union of fracture. + +[Illustration: FIG. 154.--Osseous Ankylosis of Femur and Tibia in +position of flexion.] + +The term _arthritis ossificans_ has been applied by Joseph Griffiths to +a condition in which the articular surfaces become fused without evident +cause. + +The occurrence of ankylosis in a joint before the skeleton has attained +maturity does not appear to impair the growth in length of the bones +affected; ankylosis of the temporo-maxillary joints, however, greatly +impairs the growth of the mandible. When there is arrest of growth +accompanying ankylosis, it usually depends on changes in the ossifying +junctions caused by the original disease. + +To differentiate by manipulation between muscular fixation and +ankylosis, it may be necessary to anaesthetise the patient. The nature +and extent of ankylosis may be learned by skiagraphy; in osseous +ankylosis the shadow of the two bones is a continuous one. In fibrous as +contrasted with osseous ankylosis mobility may be elicited, although +only to a limited extent; while in osseous ankylosis the joint is +rigidly fixed, and attempts to move it are painless. + +[Illustration: FIG. 155.--Osseous Ankylosis of Knee in the flexed +position following upon Tuberculous Arthritis. + +(Anatomical Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + +The _treatment_ is influenced by the nature of the original lesion, the +variety of the ankylosis, and the attitude of the joint. When there is +restriction of movement due to fibrous adhesions, these may be elongated +or ruptured. Elongation of the adhesions may be effected by +manipulations, exercises, and the use of special forms of +apparatus--such as the application of weights to the limb. It may be +necessary to administer an anaesthetic before rupturing strong fibrous +adhesions, and this procedure must be carried out with caution, in view +of such risks as fracture of the bone--which is often rarefied--or +separation of an epiphysis. There is also the risk of fat embolism, and +of re-starting the original disease. The giving way of adhesions may be +attended with an audible crack; and the procedure is often followed by +considerable pain and effusion into the joint, which necessitate rest +for some days before exercises and manipulations can be resumed. + +_Operative treatment_ may be called for in cases in which the bones are +closely bound to one another by fibrous or by osseous tissue. + +_Arthrolysis_, which consists in opening the joint and dividing the +fibrous adhesions, is almost inevitably followed by their reunion. + +_Arthroplasty._--Murphy of Chicago devised this operation for restoring +movement to an ankylosed joint. It consists in transplanting between the +bones a flap of fat-bearing tissue, from which a bursal cavity lined +with endothelium and containing a fluid rich in mucin is ultimately +formed. + +Arthroplasty is most successful in ankylosis following upon injury; when +the ankylosis results from some infective condition such as tuberculosis +or gonorrhoea, it is liable to result in failure either because of a +fresh outbreak of the infection or because the ankylosis recurs. + +When arthroplasty is impracticable, and a movable joint is desired--for +example at the elbow--a considerable amount of bone, and it may be also +of periosteum and capsular ligament, is resected to allow of the +formation of a false joint. + +When bony ankylosis has occurred with the joint in an undesirable +attitude--for example flexion at the hip or knee--it can sometimes be +remedied by osteotomy or by a wedge-shaped resection of the bone, with +or without such additional division of the contracted soft parts as will +permit of the limb being placed in the attitude desired. + +Bony ankylosis of the joints of a finger, whether the result of injury +or disease, is difficult to remedy by any operative procedure, for while +it is possible to restore mobility, the new joint is apt to be +flail-like. + +_Locking._--A joint is said to lock when its movements are abruptly +arrested by the coming together of bony outgrowths around the joint. It +is best illustrated in arthritis deformans of the hip in which new bone +formed round the rim of the acetabulum mechanically arrests the +excursions of the head of the femur. The new bone, which limits the +movements, is readily demonstrated in skiagrams; it may be removed by +operative means. Locking of joints is more often met with as a result of +injuries, especially in fractures occurring in the region of the elbow. +In certain injuries of the semilunar menisci of the knee, also, the +joint is liable to a variety of locking, which differs, however, in many +respects from that described above. + +#Errors of Development.#--These include congenital dislocations and +other deformities of intra-uterine origin, such as abnormal laxity of +joints, absence, displacement, or defective growth of one or other of +the essential constituents of a joint. The more important of these are +described along with the surgery of the Extremities. + + +DISEASES OF JOINTS + +#Bacterial Diseases.#--In most bacterial diseases the organisms are +carried to the joint in the blood-stream, and they lodge either in the +synovial membrane or in one of the bones, whence the disease +subsequently spreads to the other structures of the joint. Organisms may +also be introduced through accidental wounds. It has been shown +experimentally that joints are among the most susceptible parts of the +body to infection, and this would appear to be due to the viscid +character of the synovial fluid, which protects organisms from +bactericidal agents in the tissues and fluids. + + +PYOGENIC DISEASES + +The commoner pyogenic diseases are the result of infection of one or +other of the joint structures with _staphylococci_ or _streptococci_, +which may be demonstrated in the exudate in the joint and in the +substance of the synovial membrane. The mode of infection is the same as +in the pyogenic diseases of bone, the metastasis occurring most +frequently from the mucous membrane of the pharynx (J. B. Murphy). The +localisation of the infection in a particular joint is determined by +injury, exposure to cold, antecedent disease of the joint, or other +factors, the nature of which is not always apparent. + +The effects on the joint vary in severity. In the milder forms, there is +engorgement and infiltration of the synovial membrane, and an effusion +into the cavity of the joint of serous fluid mixed with flakes of +fibrin--_serous synovitis_. In more severe infections the exudate +consists of pus mixed with fibrin, and, it may be, red blood +corpuscles--_purulent_ or _suppurative synovitis_; the synovial membrane +and the ligaments are softened, and the surface of the membrane presents +granulations resembling those on an ulcer; foci of suppuration may +develop in the peri-articular cellular tissue and result in abscesses. +In _acute arthritis_, all the structures of the joint are involved; the +articular cartilage is invaded by granulation tissue derived from the +synovial membrane, and from the marrow of the subjacent bone; it +presents a worm-eaten or ulcerated appearance, or it may undergo +necrosis and separate, exposing the subjacent bone and leading to +disintegration of the osseous trabeculae--_caries_. With the destruction +of the ligaments, the stability of the joint is lost, and it becomes +disorganised. + +The _clinical features_ vary with the extent of the infection. When +this is confined to the synovial and peri-synovial tissues--_acute +serous_ and _purulent synovitis_--there is the usual general reaction, +associated with pyrexia and great pain in the joint. The part is hot and +swollen, the swelling assuming the shape of the distended synovial sac, +fluctuation can usually be elicited, and the joint is held in the flexed +position. + +When the joint is infected by extension from the surrounding cellular +tissue, the joint lesion may not be recognised at an early stage because +of the swollen condition of the limb, and because there are already +symptoms of toxaemia. We have observed a case in which both the hip and +knee joints were infected from the cellular tissue. + +If the infection involves all the joint structures--_acute +arthritis_--the general and local phenomena are intensified, the +temperature rises quickly, often with a rigor, and remains high; the +patient looks ill, and is either unable to sleep or the sleep is +disturbed by starting pains. The joint is held rigid in the flexed +position, and the least attempt at movement causes severe pain; the +slightest jar--even the shaking of the bed--may cause agony. The joint +is hot, tensely distended, and there may be oedema of the peri-articular +tissues or of the limb as a whole. If the pus perforates the joint +capsule, there are signs of abscess or of diffuse suppuration in the +cellular tissue. The final disorganisation of the joint is indicated by +abnormal mobility and grating of the articular surfaces, or by +spontaneous displacement of the bones, and this may amount to +dislocation. In the acute arthritis of infants, the epiphysis concerned +may be separated and displaced. + +When the _joint is infected through an external wound_, the anatomical +features are similar to those observed when the infection has reached +the joint by the blood-stream, but the destructive changes tend to be +more severe and are more likely to result in disorganisation. + +The _terminations_ vary with the gravity of the infection and with the +stage at which treatment is instituted. In the milder forms recovery is +the rule, with more or less complete restoration of function. In more +severe forms the joint may be permanently damaged as a result of fibrous +or bony ankylosis, or from displacement or dislocation. From changes in +the peri-articular structures there may be contracture in an undesirable +position, and in young subjects the growth of the limb may be interfered +with. The persistence of sinuses is usually due to disease in one or +other of the adjacent bones. In the most severe forms, and especially +when several joints are involved, death may result from toxaemia. + +The _treatment_ is carried out on the same principles as in other +pyogenic infections. The limb is immobilised in such an attitude that +should stiffness occur there will be the least interference with +function. Extension by weight and pulley is the most valuable means of +allaying muscular spasm and relieving intra-articular tension and of +counteracting the tendency to flexion; as much as 15 or 20 pounds may be +required to relieve the pain. + +The induction of hyperaemia is sometimes remarkably efficacious in +relieving pain and in arresting the progress of the infection. If the +fluid in the joint is in sufficient quantity to cause tension, if it +persists, or if there is reason to suspect that it is purulent, it +should be withdrawn without delay; an exploring syringe usually +suffices, the skin being punctured with a tenotomy knife, and, as +practised by Murphy, 5 to 15 c.c. of a 2 per cent. solution of formalin +in glycerin are injected and the wound is closed. In virulent infections +the injection may be repeated in twenty-four hours. Drainage by tube or +otherwise is to be condemned (Murphy). A vaccine may be prepared from +the fluid in the joint and injected into the subcutaneous cellular +tissue. + +Suppuration in the peri-articular soft parts or in one of the adjacent +bones must be looked for and dealt with. + +When convalescence is established, attention is directed to the +restoration of the functions of the limb, and to the prevention of +stiffness and deformity by movements and massage, and the use of hot-air +and other baths. + +At a later stage, and especially in neglected cases, operative and other +measures may be required for deformity or ankylosis. + + +#Metastatic Forms of Pyogenic Infection# + +In #pyaemia#, one or more joints may fill with pus without marked +symptoms or signs, and if the pus is aspirated without delay the joint +often recovers without impairment of function. + +In #typhoid fever#, joint lesions result from infection with the typhoid +bacillus alone or along with pyogenic organisms, and run their course +with or without suppuration; there is again a remarkable absence of +symptoms, and attention may only be called to the condition by the +occurrence of dislocation. + +Joint lesions are comparatively common in #scarlet fever#, and were +formerly described as scarlatinal rheumatism. The most frequent clinical +type is that of a serous synovitis, occurring within a week or ten days +from the onset of the fever. Its favourite seat is in the hand and +wrist, the sheaths of the extensor tendons as well as the synovial +membrane of the joints being involved. It does not tend to migrate to +other joints, and rarely lasts longer than a few days. It is probably +due to the specific virus of scarlet fever. + +At a later stage, especially in children and in cases in which the +throat lesion is severe, an arthritis is sometimes observed that is +believed to be a metastasis from the throat; it may be acute and +suppurative, affect several joints, and exhibit a septicaemic or pyaemic +character. + +The joints of the lower extremity are especially apt to suffer; the +child is seriously ill, is delirious at night, develops bed-sores over +the sacrum and, it may happen that, not being expected to recover, the +legs are allowed to assume contracture deformities with ankylosis or +dislocation at the hip and flexion ankylosis at the knees; should the +child survive, the degree of crippling may be pitiable in the extreme; +prolonged orthopaedic treatment and a series of operations--arthroplasty, +osteotomies, and resections--may be required to restore even a limited +capacity of locomotion. + +#Pneumococcal affections of joints#, the result of infection with the +pneumococcus of Fraenkel, are being met with in increasing numbers. The +local lesion varies from a _synovitis_ with infiltration of the synovial +membrane and effusion of serum or pus, to an _acute arthritis_ with +erosion of cartilage, caries of the articular surfaces, and +disorganisation of the joint. The knee is most frequently affected, but +several joints may suffer at the same time. In most cases the joint +affection makes its appearance a few days after the commencement of a +pneumonia, but in a number of instances, especially among children, the +lung is not specially involved, and the condition is an indication of a +generalised pneumococcal infection, which may manifest itself by +endocarditis, empyema, meningitis, or peritonitis, and frequently has a +fatal termination. The differential diagnosis from other forms of +pyogenic infection is established by bacteriological examination of the +fluid withdrawn from the joint. The treatment is carried out on the same +lines as in other pyogenic infections, considerable reliance being +placed on the use of autogenous vaccines. + +In #measles#, #diphtheria#, #smallpox#, #influenza#, and #dysentery#, +similar joint lesions may occur. + +The joint lesions which accompany #acute rheumatism# or "rheumatic +fever" are believed to be due to a diplococcus. In the course of a +general illness in which there is moderate pyrexia and profuse sweating, +some of the larger joints, and not infrequently the smaller ones also, +become swollen and extremely sensitive, so that the sufferer lies in bed +helpless, dreading the slightest movement. From day to day fresh joints +are attacked, while those first affected subside, often with great +rapidity. Affections of the heart-valves and of the pericardium are +commonly present. On recovery from the acute illness, it may be found +that the joints have entirely recovered, but in a small proportion of +cases certain of them remain stiff and pass into the crippled condition +described under chronic rheumatism. There is no call for operative +interference. + +#Gonococcal Affections of Joints.#--These include all forms of joint +lesion occurring in association with gonorrhoeal urethritis, +vulvo-vaginitis, or gonorrhoeal ophthalmia. They may develop at any stage +of the urethritis, but are most frequently met with from the eighteenth +to the twenty-second day after the primary infection, when the organisms +have reached the posterior urethra; they have been observed, however, +after the discharge has ceased. There is no connection between the +severity of the gonorrhoea and the incidence of joint disease. In women, +the gonorrhoeal nature of the discharge must be established by +bacteriological examination. + +As a complication of ophthalmia, the joint lesions are met with in +infants, and occur more commonly towards the end of the second or during +the third week. + +The gonococcus is carried to the joint in the blood-stream and is first +deposited in the synovial membrane, in the tissues of which it can +usually be found; it may be impossible to find it in the exudate within +the joint. The joint lesions may be the only evidence of metastasis, or +they may be part of a general infection involving the endocardium, +pleura, and tendon sheaths. + +The joints most frequently affected are the knee, elbow, ankle, wrist, +and fingers. Usually two or more joints are affected. + +Several clinical types are differentiated. (1) A _dry poly-arthritis_ +met with in the joints and tendon sheaths of the wrist and hand, +formerly described as gonorrhoeal rheumatism, which in some cases is +trifling and evanescent, and in others is persistent and progressive, +and results in stiffness of the affected joints and permanent crippling +of the hand and fingers. + +(2) The commonest type is a _chronic synovitis_ or _hydrops_, in which +the joint--very often the knee--becomes filled with a serous or +sero-fibrinous exudate. There are no reactive changes in the synovial +membrane, cellular tissue, or skin, nor is there any fever or +disturbance of health. The movements are free except in so far as they +are restricted by the amount of fluid in the joint. It usually subsides +in two or three weeks under rest, but tends to relapse. + +(3) An _acute synovitis_ with peri-articular phlegmon is most often met +with in the elbow, but it occurs also in the knee and ankle. There is a +sudden onset of severe pain and swelling in and around the joint, with +considerable fever and disturbance of health. The slightest movement +causes pain, and the part is sensitive to touch. The skin is hot and +tense, and in the case of the elbow may be red and fiery as in +erysipelas. + +The deposit of fibrin on the synovial membrane and on the articular +surfaces may lead to the formation of adhesions, sometimes in the form +of isolated bands, sometimes in the form of a close fibrous union +between the bones. + +(4) A _suppurative arthritis_, like that caused by ordinary pus +microbes, may be the result of gonococcal infection alone or of a mixed +infection. Usually only one joint is affected, but the condition may be +multiple. The articular cartilages are destroyed, the ends of the bones +are covered with granulations, extra-articular abscesses form, and +complete osseous ankylosis results. + +The _diagnosis_ is often missed because the possibility of gonorrhoea is +not suspected. + +The denial of the disease by the patient is not always to be relied +upon, especially in the case of women, as they may be ignorant of its +presence. The chief points in the differential diagnosis from acute +articular rheumatism are, that the gonorrhoeal affection is more often +confined to one or two joints, has little tendency to wander from joint +to joint, and its progress is not appreciably influenced by salicylates, +although these drugs may relieve pain. The conclusive point is the +recognition of a gonorrhoeal discharge or of threads in the urine. + +The disease may persist or may relapse, and the patient may be laid up +for weeks or months, and may finally be crippled in one or in several +joints. + +The _treatment_--besides that of the urethral disease or of the +ophthalmia--consists in rest until all pain and sensitiveness have +disappeared. The pain is relieved by salicylates, but most benefit +follows weight extension, the induction of hyperaemia by the rubber +bandage and hot-air baths; if the joint is greatly distended, the fluid +may be withdrawn by a needle and syringe. Detoxicated vaccines should be +given from the first, and in afebrile cases the injection of a foreign +protein, such as anti-typhoid vaccine, is beneficial (Harrison). + +Murphy has found benefit from the introduction into the joint, in the +early stages, of from 5 to 15 c.c. of a 2 per cent. solution of formalin +in glycerin. This may be repeated within a week, the patient being kept +in bed with light weight extension. In the chronic hydrops the fluid is +withdrawn, and about an ounce of a 1 per cent. solution of protargol +injected; the patient should be warned of the marked reaction which +follows. + +After all symptoms have settled down, but not till then, for fear of +exciting relapse or metastasis, the joint is massaged and exercised. +Stiffness from adhesions is most intractable, and may, in spite of every +attention, terminate in ankylosis even in cases where there has been no +suppuration. Forcible breaking down of adhesions under anaesthesia is +not recommended, as it is followed by great suffering and the adhesions +re-form. Operation for ankylosis--arthroplasty--should not be +undertaken, as the ankylosis recurs. + + +TUBERCULOUS DISEASE + +Tuberculous disease of joints results from bacillary infection through +the arteries. The disease may commence in the synovial membrane or in +the marrow of one of the adjacent bones, and the relative frequency of +these two seats of infection has been the subject of considerable +difference of opinion. The traditional view of Konig is that in the knee +and most of the larger joints the disease arises in the bone and in the +synovial membrane in about equal proportion, and that in the hip the +number of cases beginning in the bones is about five times greater than +that originating in the membrane. This estimate, so far as the actual +frequency of bone lesions is concerned, has been generally accepted, but +recent observers, notably John Fraser, do not accept the presence of +bone lesions as necessarily proving that the disease commenced in the +bones; he maintains, and we think with good grounds, that in many cases +the disease having commenced in the synovial membrane, slowly spreads to +the bone by way of the blood vessels and lymphatics, and gives rise to +lesions in the marrow. + +#Morbid Anatomy.#--Tuberculous disease in the articular end of a long +bone may give rise to _reactive changes_ in the adjacent joint, +characterised by effusion and by the extension of the synovial membrane +over the articular surfaces. This may result in the formation of +adhesions which obliterate the cavity of the joint or divide it into +compartments. These lesions are comparatively common, and are not +necessarily due to actual tuberculous infection of the joint. + +The _infection of the joint_ by tubercle originating in the adjacent +bone may take place at the periphery, the osseous focus reaching the +surface of the bone at the site of reflection of the synovial membrane, +and the infection which begins at this point then spreads to the rest of +the membrane. Or it may take place in the central area, by the +projection of tuberculous granulation tissue into the joint following +upon erosion of the cartilage (Fig. 156). + +[Illustration: FIG. 156.--Section of Upper End of Fibula, showing +caseating focus in marrow, erupting on articular surface and infecting +joint.] + +_Changes in the Synovial Membrane._--In the majority of cases there is a +_diffuse thickening of the synovial membrane_, due to the formation of +granulation tissue, or of young connective tissue, in its substance. +This new tissue is arranged in two layers--the outer composed of fully +formed connective or fibrous tissue, the inner of embryonic tissue, +usually permeated with miliary tubercles. On opening the joint, these +tubercles may be seen on the surface of the membrane, or the surface may +be covered with a layer of fibrinous or caseating tissue. Where there is +greater resistance on the part of the tissues, there is active formation +of young connective tissue which circumscribes or encapsulates the +tubercles, so that they remain embedded in the substance of the +membrane, and are only seen on cutting into it. + +The thickened synovial membrane is projected into the cavity of the +joint, filling up its pouches and recesses, and spreading over the +surface of the articular cartilage "like ivy growing on a wall." +Wherever the synovial tissue covers the cartilage it becomes adherent to +and fused with it. The morbid process may be arrested at this stage, and +fibrous adhesions form between the opposing articular surfaces, or it +may progress, in which case further changes occur, resulting in +destruction of the articular cartilage and exposure of the subjacent +bone. + +In rare instances the synovial membrane presents nodular masses or +lumps, resembling the tuberculous tumours met with in the brain; they +project into the cavity of the joint, are often pedunculated, and may +give rise to the symptoms of loose body. The fringes of synovial +membrane may also undergo a remarkable development, like that observed +in arthritis deformans, and described as arborescent lipoma. Both these +types are almost exclusively met with in the knee. + +_The Contents of Tuberculous Joints._--In a large proportion of cases of +synovial tuberculosis the joint is entirely filled up by the diffuse +thickening of the synovial membrane. In a small number there is an +abundant serous exudate, and with this there may be a considerable +formation of fibrin, covering the surface of the membrane and floating +in the fluid as flakes or masses; under the influence of movement it may +assume the shape of melon-seed bodies. More rarely the joint contains +pus, and the surface of the synovial membrane resembles the wall of a +cold abscess. + +_Ulceration and Necrosis of Cartilage._--The synovial tissue covering +the cartilage causes pitting and perforation of the cartilage and makes +its way through it, and often spreads widely between it and the +subjacent bone; the cartilage may be detached in portions of +considerable size. It may be similarly ulcerated or detached as a result +of disease in the bone. + +_Caries of Articular Surfaces._--Tuberculous infiltration of the marrow +in the surface cancelli breaks up the spongy framework of the bone into +minute irregular fragments, so that it disintegrates or crumbles +away--caries. When there is an absence of caseation and suppuration, the +condition is called _caries sicca_. + +The pressure of the articular surfaces against one another favours the +progress of ulceration of cartilage and of articular caries. These +processes are usually more advanced in the areas most exposed to +pressure--for example, in the hip-joint, on the superior aspect of the +head of the femur, and on the posterior and upper segment of the +acetabulum. + +The occurrence of _pathological dislocation_ is due to softening and +stretching of the ligaments which normally retain the bones in position, +and to some factor causing displacement, which may be the accumulation +of fluid or of granulations in the joint, the involuntary contraction of +muscles, or some movement or twist of the limb. The occurrence of +dislocation is also favoured by destructive changes in the bones. + +_Peri-articular tubercle and abscess_ may result from the spread of +disease from the bone or joint into the surrounding tissues, either +directly or by way of the lymphatics. A peri-articular abscess may +spread in several directions, sometimes invading tendon sheaths or +bursae, and finally reaching the skin surface by tortuous sinuses. + +Reactive changes in the vicinity of tuberculous joints are of common +occurrence, and play a considerable part in the production of what is +clinically known as _white swelling_. New connective tissue forms in the +peri-articular fat and between muscles and tendons. It may be tough and +fibrous, or soft, vascular, and oedematous, and the peri-articular fat +becomes swollen and gelatinous, constituting a layer of considerable +thickness. The fat disappears and is replaced by a mucoid effusion +between the fibrous bundles of connective tissue. This is what was +formerly known as _gelatinous degeneration_ of the synovial membrane. In +the case of the wrist the newly formed connective tissue may fix the +tendons in their sheaths, interfering with the movements of the fingers. +In relation to the bones also there may be reactive changes, resulting +in the formation of spicules of new bone on the periosteal surfaces and +at the attachment of the capsular and other ligaments; these are only +met with where pyogenic infection has been superadded. + +_Terminations and Sequelae._--A natural process of cure may occur at any +stage, the tuberculous tissue being replaced by scar tissue. Recovery is +apt to be attended with impairment of movement due to adhesions, +ankylosis, or contracture of the peri-articular structures. Caseous foci +in the interior of the bones may become encapsulated, and a cure be thus +effected, or they may be the cause of a relapse of the disease at a +later date. Interference with growth is comparatively common, and may +involve only the epiphysial junctions in the immediate vicinity of the +joint affected, or those of all the bones of the limb. This is well seen +in adults who have suffered from severe disease of the hip in +childhood--the entire limb, including the foot, being shorter and +smaller than the corresponding parts of the opposite side. + +Atrophic conditions are also met with, the bones undergoing fatty +atrophy, so that in extreme cases they may be cut with a knife or be +easily fractured. These atrophic conditions are most marked in bedridden +patients, and are largely due to disuse of the limb; they are recovered +from if it is able to resume its functions. + +#Clinical Features.#--These vary with the different anatomical forms of +the disease, and with the joint affected. + +Sometimes the disease is ushered in by a febrile attack attended with +pains in several joints--described by John Duncan as _tuberculous +arthritic fever_. This is liable to be mistaken for rheumatic fever, +from which, however, it differs in that there is no real migration from +joint to joint; there is an absence of sweating and of cardiac +complications; and no benefit follows the administration of salicylates. + +In exceptional cases, tuberculous joint disease follows an acute course +resembling that of the pyogenic arthritis of infants. This has been +observed in children, especially in the knee, the lesion being in the +synovial membrane, and attended with an accumulation of pus in the +joint. If promptly treated by incision and drainage, recovery is rapid, +and free movement of the joint, may be preserved. + +The onset and early stages of tuberculous disease, however, are more +often insidious, and are attended with so few symptoms that the disease +may have obtained a considerable hold before it attracts notice. It is +not uncommon for patients or their friends to attribute the condition to +injury, as it often first attracts attention after some slight trauma or +excessive use of the limb. The symptoms usually subside under rest, only +to relapse again with use of the limb. + +The initial local symptoms may be due to the presence of a focus in the +neighbouring bone, perhaps causing neuralgic pains in the joint, or +weakness, tiredness, stiffness, and inability to use the limb, these +symptoms improving with rest and being aggravated by exertion. + +It is rarely possible by external examination to recognise deep-seated +osseous foci in the vicinity of joints; but if they are near the surface +in a superficial bone--such as the head of the tibia--there may be local +thickening of the periosteum, oedema, pain, and tenderness on pressure +and on percussion. + +_X-ray Appearances of Tuberculous Joints._--Gross lesions such as +caseous foci in the marrow of the adjacent bone show as clear areas with +an ill-defined margin; a sclerosed focus gives a denser shadow than the +surrounding bone, and a sequestrum presents a dark shadow of irregular +contour, and a clear interval between it and the surrounding bone. + +Caries of the articular surface imparts a woolly appearance or irregular +contour in place of the well-defined outline of the articular end of the +bone. In bony ankylosis the shadow of the two bones is a continuous one, +the joint interval having been filled up. The minor changes are best +appreciated on comparison with the normal joint of the other limb. + +_Wasting of muscles_ is a constant accompaniment of tuberculous joint +disease. It is to be attributed partly to want of use, but chiefly to +reflex interference with the trophic innervation of the muscles. It is +specially well seen in the extensor and adductor muscles of the thigh in +disease of the knee, and in the deltoid in disease of the shoulder. The +muscles become soft and flaccid, they exhibit tremors on attempted +movement, and their excitability to the faradic current is diminished. +The muscular tissue may be largely replaced by fat. + +_Impairment of the normal movements_ is one of the most valuable +diagnostic signs, particularly in deeply seated joints such as the +shoulder, hip, and spine. It is due to a protective contraction of the +muscles around the joint, designed to prevent movement. This muscular +fixation disappears under anaesthesia. + +_Abnormal attitudes of the limb_ occur earlier, and are more pronounced +in cases in which pain and other irritative symptoms of articular +disease are well marked, and are best illustrated by the attitudes +assumed in disease of the hip. They are due to reflex or involuntary +contraction of the muscles acting on the joint, with the object of +placing it in the attitude of greatest ease; they also disappear under +anaesthesia. With the lapse of time they not only become exaggerated, but +may become permanent from ankylosis or from contracture of the soft +parts round the joint. + +_Startings at night_ are to be regarded as an indication that there is +progressive disease involving the articular surfaces. + +_The formation of extra-articular abscess_ may take place early, or it +may not occur till long after the disease has subsided. The abscess may +develop so insidiously that it does not attract attention until it has +attained considerable size, especially when associated with disease of +the spine, pelvis, or hip. The position of the abscess in relation to +different joints is fairly constant and is determined by the anatomical +relationships of the capsule and synovial membrane to the surrounding +tissues. The bursae and tendon sheaths in the vicinity may influence the +direction of spread of the abscess and the situation of resulting +sinuses. When the abscess is allowed to burst, or is opened and becomes +infected with pyogenic bacteria, there is not only the risk of +aggravation of the disease and persistent suppuration, but there is a +greater liability to general tuberculosis. + +The sinuses may be so tortuous that a probe cannot be passed to the +primary focus of disease, and their course and disposition can only be +demonstrated by injecting the sinuses with an emulsion of bismuth and +taking X-ray photographs. + +Tuberculous infection of the lymph glands of the limb is exceptional, +but may follow upon infection of the skin around the orifice of a sinus. + +A slight rise of temperature in the evening may be induced in quiescent +joint lesions by injury or by movement of the joint under anaesthesia, or +by the fatigue of a railway journey. When sinuses have formed and become +infected with pyogenic bacteria, there may be a diurnal variation in the +temperature of the type known as hectic fever (Fig. 11). + +_Relative Frequency of Tuberculous Disease in Different +Joints._--Hospital statistics show that joints are affected in the +following order of frequency: Spine, knee, hip, ankle and tarsus, elbow, +wrist, shoulder. The hip and spine are most often affected in childhood +and youth, the shoulder and wrist in adults; the knee, ankle, and elbow +show little age preference. + +_Clinical Variations of Tuberculous Joint Disease._--The above +description applies to tuberculous joint disease in general; it must be +modified to include special manifestations or varieties. + +When the main incidence of the infection affects the synovial membrane, +the clinical picture may assume the form of a _hydrops_, or of an +_empyema_ in which the joint is filled with pus. More common than either +of these is the well-known _white swelling_ or _tumor albus_ (Wiseman, +1676) which is the clinical manifestation of diffuse thickening of the +synovial membrane along with mucoid degeneration of the peri-synovial +cellular tissue. It is well seen in joints which are superficial--such +as the knee, ankle, elbow, and wrist. The swelling, which is the first +and most prominent clinical feature, develops gradually and painlessly, +obliterating the bony prominences by filling up the natural hollows. It +appears greater to the eye than is borne out by measurement, being +thrown into relief by the wasting of the muscles above and below the +joint. In the early stage the swelling is elastic, doughy, and +non-sensitive, and corresponds to the superficial area of the synovial +membrane involved, and there is comparatively little complaint on the +part of the patient, because the articular surfaces and ligaments are +still intact. There may be a feeling of weight in the limb, and in the +case of the knee and ankle the patient tires on walking and drags the +leg with more or less of a limp. Movements of the joint are permitted, +but are limited in range. The disability is increased by use and +exertion, but, for a time at least, it improves under rest. + +If the disease is not arrested, there follow the symptoms and signs of +involvement of the articular surfaces. + +_Influence of Tuberculous Joint Disease on the General +Health._--Experience shows that the early stages of tuberculous joint +disease are compatible with the appearance of good health. As a rule, +however, and especially if there is mixed infection, the health suffers, +the appetite is impaired, the patient is easily tired, and there may be +some loss of weight. + +#Treatment.#--In addition to the general treatment of tuberculosis, +local measures are employed. These may be described under two heads--the +conservative and the operative. + +_Conservative treatment_ is almost always to be employed in the first +instance, as by it a larger proportion of cures is obtained with a +smaller mortality and with better functional results than by operation. + +_Treatment by rest_ implies the immobilisation of the diseased limb +until pain and tenderness have disappeared. The attitude in which the +limb is immobilised should be that in which, in the event of subsequent +stiffness, it will be most serviceable to the patient. Immobilisation +may be secured by bandages, splints, extension, or other apparatus. +_Extension_ with weight and pulley is of value in securing rest, +especially in disease of the hip or knee; it eliminates muscular spasm, +relieves pain and startings at night, and prevents abnormal attitudes of +the limb. If, when the patient first comes under observation, the limb +is in a deformed attitude which does not readily yield to extension, the +deformity should be corrected under an anaesthetic. + +_The induction of hyperaemia_ is often helpful, the rubber bandage or the +hot-air chamber being employed for an hour or so morning and evening. + +_Injection of Iodoform._--This is carried out on the same lines as have +been described for tuberculous abscess. After the fluid contents of the +joint are withdrawn, the iodoform is injected; and this may require to +be repeated in a month or six weeks. + +After the injection of iodoform there is usually considerable reaction, +attended with fever (101 F.), headache, and malaise, and considerable +pain and swelling of the joint. In some cases there is sickness, and +there may be blood pigment in the urine. The severity of these phenomena +diminishes with each subsequent injection. + +The use of Scott's dressing and of blisters and of the actual cautery +has largely gone out of fashion, but the cautery may still be employed +with benefit for the relief of pain in cases in which ulceration of +cartilage is a prominent feature. + +The application of the X-rays has proved beneficial in synovial lesions +in superficial joints such as the wrist or elbow; prolonged exposures +are made at fortnightly intervals, and on account of the cicatricial +contraction which attends upon recovery, the joint must be kept in good +position. + +Conservative treatment is only abandoned if improvement does not show +itself after a thorough trial, or if the disease relapses after apparent +cure. + +_Operative Treatment._--Other things being equal, operation is more +often indicated in adults than in children, because after the age of +twenty there is less prospect of recovery under conservative treatment, +there is more tendency for the disease to relapse and to invade the +internal organs, and there is no fear of interfering with the growth of +the bones. The state of the general health may necessitate operation as +the most rapid method of removing the disease. The social status of the +patient must also be taken into account; the bread-winner, under +existing social conditions, may be unable to give up his work for a +sufficient time to give conservative measures a fair trial. + +The _local conditions_ which decide for or against operation are +differently regarded by different surgeons, but it may be said in +general terms that operative interference is indicated in cases in which +the disease continues to progress in spite of a fair trial of +conservative measures; in cases unsuited for conservative +treatment--that is to say, where there are severe bone lesions. +Operative interference is indicated also when the functional result will +be better than that likely to be obtained by conservative measures, as +is often the case in the knee and elbow. Cold abscesses should, if +possible, be dealt with before operating on the joint. + +In many cases the extent of the operation can only be decided after +exploration. The aim is to remove all the disease with the least +impairment of function and the minimum sacrifice of healthy tissue. The +more open the method of operating the better, so that all parts of the +joint may be available for inspection. The methods of Kocher, which +permit of dislocating the joint, are specially to be recommended, as +this procedure affords the freest possible access. Diseased synovial +membrane is removed with the scissors or knife. If the cartilages are +sound, and if a movable joint is aimed at, they may be left; but if +ankylosis is desired, they must be removed. Localised disease of the +cartilage should be removed with the spoon or gouge, and the bone +beneath investigated. If the articular surface is extensively diseased, +a thin slice of bone should be removed, and if foci in the marrow are +then revealed, it is better to gouge them out than to remove further +slices of bone, as this involves sacrifice of the cortex and periosteum. + +Operative treatment of deformities resulting from tuberculous joint +disease has almost entirely replaced reduction by force; the contracted +soft parts are divided, and the bone is resected. + +_Amputation_ for tuberculous joint disease has become one of the rare +operations of surgery, and is only justified when less radical measures +have failed and the condition of the limb is affecting the general +health. Amputation is more frequently called for in persons past middle +life who are the subjects of pulmonary tuberculosis. + + +SYPHILITIC DISEASE + +Syphilitic affections of joints are comparatively rare. As in +tuberculosis, the disease may be first located in the synovial membrane, +or it may spread to the joint from one of the bones. + +In #acquired syphilis#, at an early stage and before the skin eruptions +appear, one of the large joints, such as the shoulder or knee, may be +the seat of pain--_arthralgia_--which is worse at night. In the +secondary stage, a _synovitis_ with serous effusion is not uncommon, and +may affect several joints. Syphilitic _hydrops_ is met with almost +exclusively in the knee; it is frequently bilateral, and is insidious in +its onset and progress, the patient usually being able to go about. + +In the _tertiary stage_ the joint lesions are persistent and +destructive, and result from the formation of gummata, either in the +deeper layers of the synovial membrane or in the adjacent bone or +periosteum. + +_Peri-synovial_ and _peri-bursal gummata_ are met with in relation to +the knee-joint of middle-aged adults, especially women. They are usually +multiple, develop slowly, and are rarely sensitive or painful. One or +more of the gummata may break down and give rise to tertiary ulcers. The +co-existence of indolent swellings, ulcers, and depressed scars in the +vicinity of the knee is characteristic of tertiary syphilis. + +The disease spreads throughout the capsule and synovial membrane, which +becomes diffusely thickened and infiltrated with granulation tissue +which eats into and replaces the articular cartilage. Clinically, the +condition resembles tuberculous disease of the synovial membrane, for +which it is probably frequently mistaken, but in the syphilitic +affection the swelling is nodular and uneven, and the subjective +symptoms are slight, mobility is little impaired, and yet the deformity +is considerable. + +_Syphilitic osteo-arthritis_ results from a gumma in the periosteum or +marrow of one of the adjacent bones. There is gradual enlargement of one +of the bones, the patient complains of pains, which are worst at night. +The disease may extend to the synovial membrane and be attended with +effusion into the joint, or it may erupt on the periosteal surface and +invade the skin, forming one or more sinuses. The further progress is +complicated by the occurrence of pyogenic infection leading to necrosis +of bone, in the knee-joint, for example, the patella or one of the +condyles of the femur or tibia, may furnish a sequestrum. In such cases, +anti-syphilitic treatment must be supplemented by operation for the +removal of the diseased tissues. In the knee, excision is rarely +necessary; but in the elbow it may be called for to obtain a movable +joint. + +In #inherited syphilis# the earliest joint affections are those in which +there is an effusion into the joint, especially the knee or elbow; and +in exceptional cases pyogenic infection may be superadded, and pus form +in the joint. + +In older children, a gummatous synovitis is met with of which the most +striking features are: its insidious development, its chronic course, +symmetrical distribution, freedom from pain, the free mobility of the +joint, its tendency to relapse, and its association with other +syphilitic stigmata, especially in the eyes. The knees are the joints +most frequently affected, and the condition usually yields readily to +anti-syphilitic treatment without impairment of function. + + +JOINT DISEASES ACCOMPANYING CERTAIN CONSTITUTIONAL CONDITIONS + +#Gout.#--_Arthritis Urica._--One of the manifestations of gout is that +certain joints are liable to attacks of inflammation associated with the +deposit of a chalk-like material composed of sodium biurate, chiefly in +the matrix of the articular cartilage, it may be in streaks or patches +towards the central area of the joint, or throughout the entire extent +of the cartilage, which appears as if it had been painted over with +plaster of Paris. As a result of this uratic infiltration, the cartilage +loses its vitality and crumbles away, leading to the formation of what +are known as gouty ulcers, and these may extend through the cartilage +and invade the bone. The deposit of urates in the synovial membrane is +attended with effusion into the joint and the formation of adhesions, +while in the ligaments and peri-articular structures it leads to the +formation of scar tissue. The metatarso-phalangeal joint of the great +toe, on one or on both sides, is that most frequently affected. The +disease is met with in men after middle life, and while common enough in +England and Ireland, is almost unknown in hospital practice in Scotland. + +The _clinical features_ are characteristic. There is a sudden onset of +excruciating pain, usually during the early hours of the morning, the +joint becomes swollen, red, and glistening, with engorgement of the +veins and some fever and disturbance of health and temper. In the course +of a week or ten days there is a gradual return to the normal. Such +attacks may recur only once a year or they may be more frequent; the +successive attacks tend to become less acute but last longer, and the +local phenomena persist, the joint remaining permanently swollen and +stiff. Masses of chalk form in and around the joint, and those in the +subcutaneous tissue may break through the skin, forming indolent ulcers +with exposure of the chalky masses (_tophi_). The hands may become +seriously crippled, especially when the tendon sheaths and bursae also +are affected; the crippling resembles that resulting from arthritis +deformans but it differs in not being symmetrical. + +The local _treatment_ consists in employing soothing applications and a +Bier's bandage for two or three hours twice daily while the symptoms are +acute; later, hot-air baths, massage, and exercises are indicated. It is +remarkable how completely even the most deformed joints may recover +their function. Dietetic and medicinal treatment must also be employed. + +#Chronic Rheumatism.#--This term is applied to a condition which +sometimes follows upon acute articular rheumatism in persons presenting +a family tendency to acute rheumatism or to inflammations of serous +membranes, and manifesting other evidence of the rheumatic taint, such +as chorea or rheumatic nodules. + +The changes in the joints involve almost exclusively the synovial +membrane and the ligaments; they consist in cellular infiltration and +exudation, resulting in the formation of new connective tissue which +encroaches on the cavity of the joint and gives rise to adhesions, and +by contracting causes stiffness and deformity. The articular cartilages +may subsequently be transformed into connective tissue, with consequent +fibrous ankylosis and obliteration of the joint. The bones are affected +only in so far as they undergo fatty atrophy from disuse of the limb, or +alteration in their configuration as a result of partial dislocation. +Osseous ankylosis may occur, especially in the small joints of the hand +and foot. + +The disease is generally poly-articular and may be met with in childhood +and youth as well as in adult life. In some cases pain is so severe that +the patient resists the least attempt at movement. In others, the +joints, although stiff, can be moved but exhibit pronounced crackings. +When there is much connective tissue formed in relation to the synovial +membrane, the joint is swollen, and as the muscles waste above and +below, the swelling is spindle-shaped. Subacute exacerbations occur from +time to time, with fever and aggravation of the local symptoms and +implication of other joints. After repeated recurrences, there is +ankylosis with deformity, the patient becoming a helpless cripple. On +account of the tendency to visceral complications, the tenure of life is +uncertain. + +From the nature of the disease, _treatment_ is for the most part +palliative. Salicylates are only of service during the exacerbations +attended with pyrexia. The application of soda fomentations, turpentine +cloths, or electric or hot-air baths may be useful. Improvement may +result from the general and local therapeutics available at such places +as Bath, Buxton, Harrogate, Strathpeffer, Wiesbaden, or Aix. In selected +cases, a certain measure of success has followed operative interference, +which consists in a modified excision. The deformities resulting from +chronic rheumatism are but little amenable to surgical treatment, and +forcible attempts to remedy stiffness or deformity are to be avoided. + +#Arthritis Deformans# (_Osteo-arthritis, Rheumatoid Arthritis, Rheumatic +Gout, Malum Senile, Traumatic or Mechanical Arthritis_).--Under the term +arthritis deformans, which was first employed by Virchow, it is +convenient to include a number of joint affections which have many +anatomical and clinical features in common. + +The disease is widely distributed in the animal kingdom, both in +domestic species and in wild animals in the natural state such as the +larger carnivora and the gorilla; evidence of it has also been found in +the bones of animals buried with prehistoric man. + +The morbid changes in the joints present a remarkable combination of +atrophy and degeneration on the one hand and overgrowth on the other, +indicating a profound disturbance of nutrition in the joint structures. +The nature of this disturbance and its etiology are imperfectly known. +By many writers it is believed to depend upon some form of +auto-intoxication, the toxins being absorbed from the gastro-intestinal +tract, and those who suffer are supposed to possess what has been called +an "arthritic diathesis." + +The localisation of the disease in a particular joint may be determined +by several factors, of which trauma appears to be the most important. +The condition is frequently observed to follow, either directly or after +an interval, upon a lesion which involves gross injury of the joint or +of one of the neighbouring bones. It occurs with greater frequency after +repeated minor injuries affecting the joint and its vicinity, such as +sprains and contusions, and particularly those sustained in laborious +occupations. This connection between trauma and arthritis deformans led +Arbuthnot Lane to apply to it the term _traumatic_ or _trade arthritis_. + +The traumatic or strain factor in the production of the disease may be +manifested in a less obvious fashion. In the lower extremity, for +example, _any condition which disturbs the static equilibrium of the +limb as a whole_ would appear to predispose to the disease in one or +other of the joints. The static equilibrium may be disturbed by such +deformities as flat-foot or knock-knee, and badly united fractures of +the lower extremity. In hallux valgus, the metatarso-phalangeal joint of +the great toe undergoes changes characteristic of arthritis deformans. + +A number of cases have been recorded in which arthritis deformans has +followed upon antecedent disease of the joint, such as pyogenic or +gonorrhoeal synovitis, upon repeated haemorrhages into the knee-joint in +bleeders, and in unreduced dislocations in which a new joint has been +established. + +[Illustration: FIG. 157.--Arthritis Deformans of Elbow, showing +destruction of articular surfaces and masses of new bone around the +articular margins. + +(Anatomical Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + +Lastly, Poncet and other members of the Lyons school regard arthritis +deformans as due to an attenuated form of tuberculous infection, and +draw attention to the fact that a tuberculous family history is often +met with in the subjects of the disease. + +[Illustration: FIG. 158.--Arthritis Deformans of Knee, showing +eburnation and grooving of articular surfaces. + +(Anatomical Museum, University of Edinburgh.)] + +_Morbid Anatomy._--The commonest type is that in which the articular +surfaces undergo degenerative changes. The primary change involves the +articular cartilage, which becomes softened and fibrillated and is worn +away until the subjacent bone is exposed. If the bone is rarefied, the +enlarged cancellous spaces are opened into and an eroded and worm-eaten +appearance is brought about; with further use of the joint, the bone is +worn away, so that in a ball-and-socket joint like the hip, the head of +the femur and the acetabulum are markedly altered in size and shape. +More commonly, the bone exposed as a result of disappearance of the +cartilage is denser than normal, and under the influence of the +movements of the joint, becomes smooth and polished--a change described +as _eburnation_ of the articular surfaces (Fig. 158). In hinge-joints +such as the knee and elbow, the influence of movement is shown by a +series of parallel grooves corresponding to the lines of friction +(Fig. 158). + +[Illustration: FIG. 159.--Hypertrophied Fringes of Synovial Membrane in +Arthritis Deformans of Knee. + +(Museum of Royal College of Surgeons, Edinburgh.)] + +While these degenerative changes are gradually causing destruction of +the articular surfaces, reparative and hypertrophic changes are taking +place at the periphery. Along the line of the junction between the +cartilage and synovial membrane, the proliferation of tissue leads to +the formation of nodules or masses of cartilage--_ecchondroses_--which +are subsequently converted into bone (Fig. 157). Gross alterations in +the ends of the bone are thus brought about which can be recognised +clinically and in skiagrams, and which tend to restrict the normal range +of movement. The extension of the ossification into the synovial +reflection and capsular ligament adds a collar or "lip" of new bone, +known as "lipping" of the articular margins, and also into other +ligaments, insertions of tendons and intermuscular septa giving rise to +bony outgrowths or osteophytes not unlike those met with in the +neuro-arthropathies. + +Proliferative changes in the synovial membrane are attended with +increased vascularity and thickening of the membrane and an enlargement +of its villi and fringes. When the fatty fringes are developed to an +exaggerated degree, the condition is described as an _arborescent +lipoma_ (Fig. 159). Individual fringes may attain the size of a hazel +nut, and the fibro-fatty tissue of which they are composed may be +converted into cartilage and bone; such a body may remain attached by a +narrow pedicle or stalk, or this may be torn across and the body becomes +loose and, unless confined in a recess of the joint, it wanders about +and may become impacted between the articular surfaces. These changes in +the synovial membrane are often associated with an abundant exudate or +hydrops. These degenerative and hypertrophic changes, while usually +attended with marked restriction of movement and sometimes by "locking" +of the joint, practically never result in ankylosis. + +The _ankylosing type_ of chronic arthritis is fortunately much rarer +than those described above, and is chiefly met with in the joints of the +fingers and toes and in those of the vertebral column. The synovial +membrane proliferates, grows over the cartilage, and replaces it, and +when two such articular surfaces are in contact they tend to adhere, +thus obliterating the joint, cavity, and resulting in fibrous or bony +ankylosis. The changes progress slowly and, before they result in +ankylosis, various sub-luxations and dislocations may occur with +distortion and deformity which, in the case of the fingers, is extremely +disabling and unsightly (Fig. 160). + +_Clinical Features._--It is usually observed that in patients who are +still young the tendency is for the disease to advance with considerable +rapidity, so that in the course of months it may cause crippling of +several joints. The course of the disease as met with in persons past +middle life is more chronic; it begins insidiously, and many years may +pass before there is pronounced disability. The earliest symptom is +stiffness, especially in the morning after rest, which passes off +temporarily with use of the limb. As time goes on, the range of movement +becomes restricted, and crackings occur. This stage of the disease may +be prolonged indefinitely; if it progresses, stiffness becomes more +pronounced, certain movements are lost, others develop in abnormal +directions, and deformed attitudes add to the disablement. The disease +is compatible with long life, but not with any active occupation, hence +those of the hospital class who suffer from it tend to accumulate in +workhouse infirmaries. + +_Hydrops_ is most marked in the knee, and may affect also the adjacent +bursae. As the joint becomes distended with fluid, the ligaments are +stretched, the limb becomes weak and unstable, and the patient complains +of a feeling of weight, of insecurity, and of tiredness. Pain is +occasional and evanescent, and is usually the result of some extra +exertion, or exposure to cold and wet. This form of the disease is +extremely chronic, and may last for an indefinite number of years. It is +to be diagnosed from the other forms of hydrops already considered--the +purely traumatic, the pyogenic, gonorrhoeal, tuberculous, and +syphilitic--and from that associated with Charcot's disease. + +_Hypertrophied fringes and pedunculated or loose bodies_ often co-exist +with hydrops, and give rise to characteristic clinical features, +particularly in the knee. The fringes, especially when they assume the +type of the arborescent lipoma, project into the cavity of the joint, +filling up its recesses and distending its capsule so that the joint is +swollen and slightly flexed. Pain is not a prominent feature, and the +patient may walk fairly well. On grasping the joint while it is being +actively flexed and extended, the fringes may be felt moving under the +fingers. Symptoms from impaction of a loose body are exceptional. + +[Illustration: FIG. 160.--Arthritis Deformans of Hands, showing +symmetry of lesions, ulnar deviation of fingers, and nodular thickening +at inter-phalangeal joints.] + +_The dry form of arthritis deformans_, although specially common in the +knee, is met with in other joints, either as a mon-articular or +poly-articular disease; and it is also met with in the joints of the +spine and of the fingers as well as in the temporo-mandibular joint. In +the joints of the fingers the disease is remarkably symmetrical, and +tends to assume a nodular type (Heberden's nodes) (Fig. 160); in younger +subjects it assumes a more painful and progressive fusiform type +(Fig. 161). In the larger joints the subjective symptoms usually precede +any palpable evidence of disease, the patient complaining of stiffness, +crackings, and aching, aggravated by changes in the weather. The +roughness due to fibrillation of the articular cartilages causes coarse +friction on moving the joint, or, in the knee, on moving the patella on +the condyles of the femur. It may be months or even years before the +lipping and other hypertrophic changes in the ends of the bones are +recognisable, and before the joint assumes the deformed features which +the name of the disease suggests. + +The capsular ligament, except in hydrops, is the seat of +connective-tissue overgrowth, and tends to become contracted and rigid. +Intra-articular ligaments, such as the ligamentum teres in the hip, are +usually worn away and disappear. The surrounding muscles undergo +atrophy, tendons become adherent to their sheaths and may be ossified, +and the sheaths of nerves may be involved by the cicatricial changes in +the surrounding tissues. + +_The X-ray appearances of arthritis deformans_ necessarily vary with the +type of the disease and the joint affected; in the joints of the fingers +there is a narrowing of the spaces between the articular ends of the +bones as a result of absorption of the articular cartilage, and +rarefaction of the cancellous tissue in the vicinity of the joints; in +the larger joints there is "lipping" of the articular margins, +osteophytes, and other evidence of abnormal ossification in and around +the joint. Eburnation of the articular surfaces is shown by increase in +the density of the shadow of the bone in the areas affected. + +[Illustration: FIG. 161.--Arthritis Deformans affecting several +Joints, in a boy aet. 10. + +(Dr. Dickson's case.)] + +_Treatment._--Treatment is for the most part limited to the relief of +symptoms. On no account should the affected joints be kept at rest by +means of splints or other apparatus. Active movements and exercises of +all kinds are to be persevered with. When pain is a prominent feature, +it may be relieved either by douches of iodine and hot water (tincture +of iodine 1 oz. to the quart), or by the application of lint saturated +with a lotion made up of chloral hydrate, gr. v, glycerin [dram]j, water +[ounce]j, and covered with oil-silk. Strain and over-use of the joint +and sudden changes of temperature are to be avoided. The induction of +hyperaemia by means of massage, the elastic bandage, and hot-air baths is +often of service. Operative interference is indicated when the disease +is of a severe type, when it is mon-articular, and when the general +condition of the patient is otherwise favourable. Excision has been +practised with success in the hip, knee, elbow, and temporo-mandibular +joints. Limitation of movement and locking at the hip-joint when due to +new bone round the edge of the acetabulum may be greatly relieved by +removal of the bone--a procedure known as _cheilotomy_. Loose bodies and +hypertrophied fringes if causing symptoms may also be removed by +operation. + +When stiffness and grating on movement are prominent features we have +found the injection of from half to one ounce of sterilised white +vaseline afford decided relief. + +The patient should be nourished well, and there need be no restriction +in the diet such as is required in gouty patients, so long as the +digestion is not impaired. Benefit is also derived from the +administration of cod-liver oil, and of tonics, such as strychnin, +arsenic, and iron, and in some cases of iodide of potassium. Luff +recommends the administration over long periods of guaiacol carbonate, +in cachets beginning with doses of 5-10 grs. and increased to 15-20 grs. +thrice daily. A course of treatment at one of the reputed spas--Aix, +Bath, Buxton, Gastein, Harrogate, Strathpeffer, Wiesbaden, Wildbad--is +often beneficial. + +In some cases benefit has followed the prolonged internal administration +of liquid paraffin. + +On the assumption that the condition is the result of an +auto-intoxication from the intestinal tract, saline purges and +irrigation of the colon are indicated, and Arbuthnot Lane claims to have +brought about improvement by short-circuiting or by resecting the colon. + +Residence in a warm and dry climate, with an open-air life, has been +known to arrest the disease when other measures have failed to give +relief. + +The application of radium and the ingestion of radio-active waters have +also been recommended. + +#Haemophilic# or #Bleeder's Joint#.--This is a rare but characteristic +affection met with chiefly in the knee-joint of boys who are the +subjects of haemophilia. After some trivial injury, or even without +apparent cause, a haemorrhage takes place into the joint. The joint is +tensely swollen, cannot be completely extended, and is so painful that +the patient is obliged to lie up. The temperature is often raised (101 +to 102 F.), especially if there are also haemorrhages elsewhere. The +blood in the joint is slowly re-absorbed, and by the end of a fortnight +or so, the symptoms completely disappear. As a rule these attacks are +repeated; the pain attending them diminishes, but the joint becomes the +seat of permanent changes: the synovial membrane is thickened, +abnormally vascular, and coloured brown from the deposit of blood +pigment; on its surface, and in parts of the articular cartilage, there +is a deposit of rust-coloured fibrin; there may be extensive adhesions, +and in some cases changes occur like those observed in arthritis +deformans with erosion and ulceration of the cartilage and a form of dry +caries of the articular surfaces, which may terminate in ankylosis. + +As the swelling of the joint is associated with wasting of the muscles, +with stiffness, and with flexion, the condition closely resembles +tuberculous disease of the synovial membrane. From errors in diagnosis +such joints have been operated upon, with disastrous results due to +haemorrhage. + +The treatment of a recent haemorrhage consists in securing absolute rest +and applying elastic compression. The introduction of blood-serum (10-15 +c.c.) into a vein may assist in arresting the haemorrhage; +anti-diphtheritic serum is that most readily obtainable. + +After an interval, measures should be adopted to promote the absorption +of blood and to prevent stiffness and flexion; these include massage, +movements, and extension with weight and pulley. + + +JOINT DISEASES ASSOCIATED WITH LESIONS OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM: +NEURO-ARTHROPATHIES + +_In Lesions of Peripheral Nerves._--In the hand, and more rarely in the +foot, when one or other of the main nerve-trunks has been divided or +compressed, the joints may become swollen and painful and afterwards +become stiff and deformed. Bony ankylosis has been observed. + +_In Affections of the Spinal Medulla._--In myelitis, progressive +muscular atrophy, poliomyelitis, insular sclerosis, and in traumatic +lesions, joint affections are occasionally met with. + +The occurrence of joint lesions in _locomotor ataxia_ (tabes dorsalis) +was first described by Charcot in 1868--hence the term "Charcot's +disease" applied to them. Although they usually develop in the ataxic +stage, one or more years after the initial spinal symptoms, they may +appear before there is any evidence of tabes. The onset is frequently +determined by some injury. The joints of the lower extremity are most +commonly affected, and the disease is bilateral in a considerable +proportion of cases--both knees or both hips, for instance, being +implicated. + +Among the theories suggested in explanation of these arthropathies the +most recent is that by Babinski and Barre, which traces the condition to +vascular lesions of a syphilitic type in the articular arteries. + +The first symptom is usually a swelling of the joint and its vicinity. +There is no redness or heat and no pain on movement. The peri-articular +swelling, unlike ordinary oedema, scarcely pits even on firm pressure. + +[Illustration: FIG. 162.--Bones of Knee-joint in advanced stage of +Charcot's Disease. The medial part of the head of the tibia has +disappeared. + +(Anatomical Museum, University of Edinburgh).] + +In mild cases this condition of affairs may persist for months; in +severe cases destructive changes ensue with remarkable rapidity. The +joint becomes enormously swollen, loses its normal contour, and the ends +of the bones become irregularly deformed (Fig. 162). Sometimes, and +especially in the knee, the clinical features are those of an enormous +hydrops with fibrinous and other loose bodies and hypertrophied +fringes--and great oedema of the peri-articular tissues (Fig. 163). The +joint is wobbly or flail-like from stretching and destruction of the +controlling ligaments, and is devoid of sensation. In other cases, +wearing down and total disappearance of the ends of the bones is the +prominent feature, attended with flail-like movements and with coarse +grating. Dislocation is observed chiefly at the hip, and is rather a +gross displacement with unnatural mobility than a typical dislocation, +and it is usually possible to move the bones freely upon one another and +to reduce the displacement. A striking feature is the extensive +formation of new bone in the capsular ligament and surrounding muscles. +The enormous swelling and its rapid development may suggest the growth +of a malignant tumour. The most useful factor in diagnosis is the entire +absence of pain, of tenderness, and of common sensibility. The freedom +with which a tabetic patient will allow his disorganised joint to be +handled requires to be seen to be appreciated. + +[Illustration: FIG. 163.--Charcot's Disease of Left Knee. The joint is +distended with fluid and the whole limb is oedematous.] + +The rapidity of the destructive changes in certain cases of tabes, and +the entire absence of joint lesions in others, would favour the view +that special parts of the spinal medulla must be implicated in the +former group. + +In _syringomyelia_, joint affections (gliomatous arthropathies) are more +frequent than in tabes, and they usually involve the upper extremity in +correspondence with the seat of the spinal lesion, which usually affects +the lower cervical and upper thoracic segments. Except that the joint +disease is seldom symmetrical, it closely resembles the arthropathy of +tabes. The completeness of the analgesia of the articular structures +and of the overlying soft parts is illustrated by the fact that in one +case the patient himself was in the habit of letting out the fluid from +his elbow with the aid of a pair of scissors, and that in another the +joint was painlessly excised without an anaesthetic. + +[Illustration: FIG. 164.--Charcot's Disease of both Ankles: front view. +Man, aet. 32.] + +The disease may become arrested or may go on to complete +disorganisation; suppuration may ensue from infection through a breach +of the surface, and in rare cases the joint has become the seat of +tuberculosis. + +[Illustration: FIG. 165.--Charcot's Disease of both Ankles: back view. +Man, aet. 32.] + +_Treatment_, in addition to that of the nerve lesion underlying the +arthropathy, consists in supporting and protecting the joint by means of +bandages, splints, and other apparatus. In the lower extremity, the use +of crutches is helpful in taking the strain off the affected limb. When +there is much distension of the joint, considerable relief follows upon +withdrawal of fluid. The best possible result being rigid ankylosis in a +good position, it may be advisable to bring this about artificially by +arthrodesis or resection. Operation is indicated when only one joint is +affected and when the cord lesion is such as will permit of the patient +using the limb. The wounds heal well, but the victims of tabes are +unfavourable subjects for operative interference, on account of their +liability to intercurrent complications. When the limb is quite useless, +amputation may be the best course. + +_In cerebral lesions_ attended with hemiplegia, joint affections, +characterised by evanescent pain, redness, and swelling, are +occasionally met with. The secondary changes in joints which are the +seat of paralytic contracture are considered with the surgery of the +Extremities. + +In cases of _hysteria_ and other _functional affections of the +nervous system_, an intermittent neuropathic hydrops has been +observed--especially in the knee. Without apparent cause, the joint +fills with fluid and its movements become restricted, and after from two +to eight days the swelling subsides and the joint returns to normal. A +remarkable feature of the condition is that the effusion into the joint +recurs at regular intervals, it may be over a period of years. Psychic +conditions have been known to induce attacks, and sometimes to abort +them or even to cause their disappearance. Hence it has been recommended +that treatment by suggestion should be employed along with tonic doses +of quinine and arsenic. + + +HYSTERICAL OR MIMETIC JOINT AFFECTIONS + +Under this heading, Sir Benjamin Brodie, in 1822, described an affection +of joints, characterised by the prominence of subjective symptoms and +the absence of pathological changes. Although most frequently met with +in young women with an impressionable nervous system, and especially +among those in good social circumstances, it occurs occasionally in men. +The onset may be referred to injury or exposure to cold, or may be +associated with some disturbance of the emotions or of the generative +organs; or the condition may be an involuntary imitation of the symptoms +of organic joint disease presented by a relative or friend. + +It is characteristic that the symptoms develop abruptly without +satisfactory cause, that they are exaggerated and wanting in harmony +with one another, and that they do not correspond with the features of +any of the known forms of organic disease. In some cases the only +complaint is of severe pain; more often this is associated with +excessive tenderness and with impairment of the functions of the joint. +On examination the joint presents a normal appearance, but the skin +over it is remarkably sensitive. A light touch is more likely to excite +pain than deep and firm pressure. Stiffness is a variable feature--in +some cases amounting to absolute rigidity, so that no ordinary force +will elicit movement. It is characteristic of this, as of other +neuroses, that the symptoms come and go without sufficient cause. When +the patient's attention is diverted, the pain and stiffness may +disappear. There is no actual swelling of the joint, although there may +be an appearance of this from wasting of the muscles above and below. If +the joint is kept rigid for long periods, secondary contracture may +occur--in the knee with flexion, in the hip with flexion and adduction. + +The _diagnosis_ is often a matter of considerable difficulty, and the +condition is liable to be mistaken for such organic lesions as a +tuberculous or pyogenic focus in the bone close to the joint. + +The greatest difficulty is met with in the knee and hip, where the +condition may closely simulate tuberculous disease. The use of the +Rontgen rays, or examination of the joint under anaesthesia, is helpful. + +The _local treatment_ consists chiefly in improving the nutrition of the +affected limb by means of massage, exercises, baths, and electricity. +Splints are to be avoided. In refractory cases, benefit may follow the +application of blisters or of Corrigan's button. The general condition +of the patient must be treated on the same lines as in other neuroses. +The Weir-Mitchell treatment may have to be employed in obstinate cases, +the patient being secluded from her friends and placed in charge of a +nurse. Complete recovery is the rule, but when the muscles are weak and +wasted from prolonged disuse, a considerable time may elapse before the +limb returns to normal. + + +TUMOURS AND CYSTS + +New growths taking origin in the synovial membrane are rare, and are not +usually diagnosed before operation. They are attended with exudation +into the joint, and in the case of _sarcoma_ the fluid is usually +blood-stained. If the tumour projects in a polypoidal manner into the +joint, it may cause symptoms of loose body. One or two cases have been +recorded in which a _cartilaginous tumour_ growing from the synovial +membrane has erupted through the joint capsule and infiltrated the +adjoining muscles. _Multiple cartilaginous tumours_ forming loose bodies +are described on p. 544. + +_Cysts of joints_ constitute an ill-defined group which includes ganglia +formed in relation to the capsular ligament. Cystic distension of bursae +which communicate with the joint is most often met with in the region of +the knee in cases of long-standing hydrops. It was suggested by Morrant +Baker that cystic swellings may result from the hernial protrusion of +the synovial membrane between the stretched fibres of the capsular +ligament, and the name "Baker's cysts" has been applied to these. + +In the majority of cases, cysts in relation to joints give rise to +little inconvenience and may be left alone. If interfered with at all, +they should be excised. + + +LOOSE BODIES + +It is convenient to describe the varieties of loose bodies under two +heads: those composed of fibrin, and those composed of organised +connective tissue. + +#Fibrinous Loose Bodies# (Corpora oryzoidea).--These are homogeneous or +concentrically laminated masses of fibrin, sometimes resembling rice +grains, melon seeds, or adhesive wafers, sometimes quite irregular in +shape. Usually they are present in large numbers, but sometimes there is +only one, and it may attain considerable dimensions. They are not +peculiar to joints, for they are met with in tendon sheaths and bursae, +and their origin from synovial membrane may be accepted as proved. They +occur in tuberculosis, arthritis deformans, and in Charcot's disease, +and their presence is almost invariably associated with an effusion of +fluid into the joint. While they may result from the coagulation of +fibrin-forming elements in the exudate, their occurrence in tuberculous +hydrops would appear to be the result of coagulation necrosis, or of +fibrinous degeneration of the surface layer of the diseased synovial +membrane. However formed, their shape is the result of mechanical +influences, and especially of the movement of the joint. + +_Clinically_, loose bodies composed of fibrin constitute an unimportant +addition to the features of the disease with which they are associated. +They never give rise to the classical symptoms associated with impaction +of a loose body between the articular surfaces. Their presence may be +recognised, especially in the knee, by the crepitating sensation +imparted to the fingers of the hand grasping the joint while it is +flexed and extended by the patient. + +The _treatment_ is directed towards the disease underlying the hydrops. +If it is desired to empty the joint, this is best done by open +incision. + +[Illustration: FIG. 166.--Radiogram of Multiple Loose Bodies in +Knee-joint and Semi-membranosus Bursa in a man aet. 38. + +(Mr. J. W. Dowden's case.)] + +#Bodies composed of Organised Connective Tissue.#--These are +comparatively common in joints that are already the seat of some chronic +disease, such as arthritis deformans, Charcot's arthropathy, or synovial +tuberculosis. They take origin almost exclusively from an erratic +overgrowth of the fringes of the synovial membrane, and may consist +entirely of fat, the arborescent lipoma (Fig. 159) being the most +pronounced example of this variety. Fibrous tissue or cartilage may +form in one or more of the fatty fringes and give rise to hard nodular +masses, which may attain a considerable size, and in course of time may +undergo ossification. + +Like other hypertrophies on a free surface, they tend to become +pedunculated, and so acquire a limited range of movement. The pedicle +may give way and the body become free. In this condition it may wander +about the joint, or lie snugly in one of its recesses until disturbed by +some sudden movement. A loose body free in a joint is capable of growth, +deriving the necessary nutriment from the surrounding fluid. The size +and number of the bodies vary widely. Single specimens have been known +to attain the size of the patella. The smaller varieties may number +considerably over a hundred. + +[Illustration: FIG. 167.--Loose Body from Knee-joint of man aet. 25. +Natural size. + +a = Convex surface. b = Concave surface.] + +In arthritis deformans a rarer type of loose body is met with, a portion +of the lipping of one of the articular margins being detached by injury. +In Charcot's disease, bodies composed of bone are formed in relation to +the capsular and other ligaments, and may be made to grate upon one +another. + +The _clinical features_ in this group are mainly those of the disease +which has given rise to the loose bodies, and it is exceptional to meet +with symptoms from impaction of the body between the articular surfaces. +Treatment is to be directed towards the primary disease in the joint, as +well as to the removal of the loose bodies. + +[Illustration: FIG. 168.--Multiple partially ossified Chondromas of +Synovial Membrane, from Shoulder-joint, the seat of arthritis deformans, +from a man aet. 35.] + +_Loose Bodies in Joints which are otherwise healthy._--It is in joints +otherwise healthy that loose bodies causing the classical symptoms and +calling for operative treatment are most frequently met with. They occur +chiefly in the knee and elbow of healthy males under the age of thirty. +The complaint may be of vague pains, of occasional cracking on moving +the joint, or of impairment of function--usually an inability to extend +or flex the joint completely. In many cases a clear account is given of +the symptoms which arise when the body is impacted between the articular +surfaces, namely, sudden onset of intense sickening pain, loss of power +in the limb and locking of the joint, followed by effusion and other +accompaniments of a severe sprain. On some particular movement, the +body is disengaged, the locking disappears, and recovery takes place. +Attacks of this kind may recur at irregular intervals, during a period +of many years. On examining the joint, it is usually found to contain +fluid, and there may be points of special tenderness corresponding to +the ligaments that have been overstretched. In cases in which there has +been recurrent attacks of locking, the ligaments become slack, the joint +is wobbly, and the quadriceps is wasted. The patient himself, or the +surgeon, may discover the loose body and feel it roll beneath his +fingers, especially if it is lodged in the supra-patellar pouch in the +knee, or on one or other side of the olecranon in the elbow. In most +instances the patient has carefully observed his own symptoms, and is +aware not only of the existence of the loose body, but of its erratic +appearance at different parts of the joint. This feature serves to +differentiate the lesions from a torn medial meniscus in which the pain +and tenderness are always in the same spot. As the body usually contains +bone, it is recognisable in a skiagram. + +[Illustration: FIG. 169.--Multiple Cartilaginous Loose Bodies from +Knee-joint.] + +There are two methods of _removing the body_; the first and simpler +method is applicable when the body can be palpated, usually in the +supra-patellar pouch; it is preferably transfixed by a needle and can +then be removed through a small incision; otherwise, the joint must be +freely opened and explored, firstly to find the body and further to +remove it. + +The characters of this type of loose body are remarkably constant. It is +usually solitary, about the size of a bean or almond, concavo-convex in +shape, the convex aspect being smooth like an articular surface, the +concave aspect uneven and nodulated and showing reparative changes, +healing over of the raw surface, and the new formation of fibrous +tissue, hyaline cartilage and bone, the necessary nutriment being +derived from the synovial fluid (Fig. 167). The body is sometimes found +to be lodged in a defect or excavation in one of the articular surfaces, +usually the medial condyle of the femur, from which it is readily +shelled out by means of an elevator. It presents on section a layer of +articular cartilage on the convex aspect and a variable thickness of +spongy bone beneath this. + +The origin of these bodies is one of the most debated questions in +surgical pathology; they obviously consist of a portion of the articular +surface of one of the bones, but how this is detached still remains a +mystery; some maintain that it is purely traumatic; Konig regards them +as portions of the articular surface which have been detached by a +morbid process which he calls "osteochondritis dessicans." + +_Multiple Chondromas and Osteomas of the Synovial Membrane._--In this +rare type of loose body, the surface of the synovial membrane is studded +with small sessile or pedunculated tumours composed of pure hyaline +cartilage, or of bone, or of transition stages between cartilage and +bone. They are pearly white in colour, pitted and nodular on the +surface, rarely larger than a pea, although when compressed they may +cake into masses of considerable size. With the movements of the joint +many of the tumours become detached and lie in the serous exudate +excited by their presence. They are found also in the diverticula of the +synovial membrane, in the shoulder in the downward prolongation along +the tendon of the biceps, in the hip in the bursal extension beneath the +psoas. + +The patient complains of increasing disability of the limb, movements of +the joint becoming more and more restricted and painful. There is +swelling corresponding to the distended capsule of the joint, and on +palpation the bodies moving under the fingers yield a sensation as of +grains of rice shifting in a bag. If the bodies are so numerous as to be +tightly packed together, the impression is that of a plastic mass having +the shape of the synovial sac. The stiffness and the cracking on +movement may suggest arthritis deformans, but the X-ray appearances make +the diagnosis an easy one. We have observed two cases of this affection +in the knee-joint of adult women, one in the shoulder-joint of an adult +male (Fig. 168), and Caird has observed one in the hip. The treatment +consists in opening the joint by free incision and removing the bodies. + +_Displacement of the menisci_ of the knee is referred to with injuries +of that joint. + + + + +INDEX + + + Abdominal aneurysm, 313 + aorta, compression of, 269 + embolus of, 93 + + Abscess, 46 + acute circumscribed, 46 + of bone, 448 + Brodie's, 448 + chronic, 139 + cold, 139 + embolic, 66 + formation of, 47 + Hilton's method of opening, 50 + pointing of, 48 + pyaemic, 287 + residual, 141 + of skin, multiple, 382 + stitch, 51 + treatment of, 49 + tuberculous, 139, 141 + peri-articular, 514, 517 + + Achillo-bursitis, 432 + + Achillo-dynia, 422 + + Acidosis, 251 + + Acromion bursa, 429 + + Actinomycosis, 126 + + Active hyperaemia, 39 + + Acupuncture in aneurysm, 308 + + Acute arthritis of infants, 440 + necrosis of bone, 439 + + Adductor longus muscle, rupture of, 408 + + Adenoma, 202 + malignant, 209 + sebaceous, 393 + of skin, 393 + varieties of, 202 + + Adiposus dolorosa, 186 + + Aerobes, 19 + + Air embolism, 265 + hunger, 276 + + Albumosuria, 195, 474, 492 + + Aleppo boil, 129 + + Alexins, 22 + + Ambrine, 13, 238 + + Amputation neuroma, 344 + + Anaerobes, 19 + + Anaesthesia, after nerve injuries, 347 + + Analgesia, 347 + + Anaphylaxis, 23 + + Anatomical tubercle, 134 + + Anatomy. _See_ Surgical Anatomy + + Anel's operation for aneurysm, 307 + + Aneurysm, 300. _See also_ Individual Arteries + abdominal, 313 + acupuncture in, 308 + amputation in, 310 + by anastomosis, 298 + Anel's operation for, 307, 310 + arterio-venous, 263 + axillary, 318 + of bone, 498 + brachial, 318 + Brasdor's operation for, 308 + cirsoid, 299 + Colt's method of wiring for, 309 + compression for, 308 + consolidated, 304, 305 + differential diagnosis of, 305 + diffused, 302 + digital compression in, 308 + excision of, 307 + of forearm and hand, 318 + fusiform, 301 + gelatin injections in, 309 + Hunter's operation for, 307 + iliac, 318 + of individual arteries, 312 + inguinal, 318 + innominate, 314 + intracranial, 316 + of leg and foot, 320 + ligation of artery for, 307 + Macewen's acupuncture for, 308 + Matas' operation for, 307 + Moore-Corradi method, 308 + natural cure of, 305 + old operation for, 307 + of ophthalmic artery, 317 + orbital, 317 + pathological, 301 + pulse in, 304 + rupture of, 306 + sacculated, 302 + suppuration in, 306 + thoracic, 312 + traumatic, 263, 310 + treatment of, 306 + varicose, 311 + Wardrop's operation for, 308 + X-rays in diagnosis of, 304 + + Aneurysmal varix, 311, 316, 318, 319, 320 + + Angioma, 284 + arterial, 299 + capillary, 294 + cavernous, 297 + racemosum venosum, 287 + venous, 294 + + Angio-neurotic oedema, 348 + sarcoma, 199 + + Angler's elbow, 406 + + Ankle, cellulitis of, 58 + + Ankylosis of joints, 503. _See also_ Individual Joints + + Anoci-association, 253 + + Anthracaemia, 121 + + Anthrax, 119 + + Anti-bacterial sera, 23 + -diphtheritic serum, 111 + -streptococcic serum, 23, 109 + -tetanic serum, 117 + + Antibodies, 22 + + Antigens, 22 + + Antiseptics, 242 + + Antitoxic sera, 23 + + Antitoxins, 22 + + Antivenin, 132 + + Aorta, abdominal, compression of, 269 + aneurysm of, 313 + embolism of, 93 + ligation of, 314 + pulsating, 305, 314 + + Arborescent lipoma, 423 + + Arseno-billon, 163 + + Arteries, anatomy of, 258 + compression of individual, 269 + contusion of, 260 + digital compression of, 269 + gangrene following ligation of, 94 + gunshot wounds of, 263 + + Arteries, ligation of, for aneurysm, 307 + punctured wounds of, 262 + repair of, 266, 268 + rupture of, 260 + wounds of, 261, 262 + + Arterio-sclerosis, 282 + + Arterio-venous aneurysm, 310 + + Arteritis, varieties of, 282 + + Arthritis, 501. _See also_ Individual Joints + acute, 506 + of infants, 440 + deformans, 524 + gonococcal, 510 + neuropathic, 532 + ossificans, 503 + pneumococcal, 509 + pyogenic, 506 + rheumatic, 523 + rheumatoid, 524 + septic, 506 + scarlatinal, 508 + trade, 525 + traumatic, 524 + tuberculous, 512 + urica, 522 + + Arthrolysis, 505 + + Arthropathies, 532 + gliomatous, 534 + + Arthroplasty, 505 + + Articular caries, 502, 514 + + Artificial hyperaemia, 39 + + Ascites, chylous, 325 + + Asepsis, 18 + + Asphyxia, local, 97 + traumatic, 254 + + Atheroma, 283 + + Avulsion of nerves, 375 + of tendons, 411 + + Axilla, cellulitis of, 58 + hygroma of, 328 + + Axillary aneurysm, 318 + artery, embolus of, 93 + lymph glands, 336 + nerve, injuries of, 363 + + + Bacilli, 19 + + Bacillus aerogenes capsulatus, 99 + anthracis, 119 + coli communis, 27 + diphtheriae 109 + drum-stick, 112 + of Ducrey, 154 + of glanders, 123 + Klebs-Loffler, 109 + of malignant oedema, 101 + mallei, 123 + pyocyaneus, 29 + of soft sore, 154 + of tetanus, 112 + tubercle, 133 + typhosus, 29, 452 + + Bacteria, death of, 21 + general characters of, 18 + pathogenic properties of, 19 + pyogenic, 24, 29 + + Bacterial intoxication, 21 + + Bacteriology, surgical, 17 + + Baker's cysts, 539 + + Bazin's disease, 74, 169 + + Beck's paste in sinuses, 145 + + Bed-sores, 73, 103 + + Bence-Jones on albumosuria, 195, 474, 492 + + Biceps, bursa under, 430 + dislocation of long tendon of, 409 + rupture of, 407 + + Bier's artificial hyperaemia, 38 + + B.I.P.P., 143 + + Birth palsies, 362 + + Biskra button, 129 + + Bismuth gauze, 247 + injections in sinuses, 145 + + Bites of animals, 223 + + Black eye, 219 + + Bleeder's joint, 531 + + Bleeders, 277 + bruises in, 218 + + Blisters, 376 + purulent, 55 + + Blocking of nerves for shock, 252 + + Blood, count, 30 + cysts, 214, 220 + transfusion of, 11, 253 + + Blood vessels. _See_ Arteries and Veins + + Bloodless state, treatment of, 276 + + Blood letting, general, 42 + + Boil, 379 + Aleppo, 129 + Delhi, 129 + + Bone. _See also_ Individual Bones + abscess of, 448 + aneurysm of, 498 + angioma of, 491 + atrophy of, 479 + bacterial diseases of, 438 + Brodie's abscess of, 448 + cancer of, secondary, 499 + caries of, 437, 438 + changes in ulcers of leg, 79 + chondroma of, 487 + cysts of, 477, 500 + diseases of, 434 + due to staphylococcus aureus, 438 + endothelioma of, 492 + exostoses of, 191, 481 + fibroma of, 491 + fragility of, 479 + grafting, 16, 436 + gumma of, 464 + hydatid disease of, 467 + hyperostosis, 435, 464 + hypertrophic pulmonary osteo-arthropathy, 480 + hypertrophy of, 435 + lipoma of, 491 + lipping of, 527 + malacia of, 473 + marrow, function of, 434 + myeloma of, 491 + myxoma of, 491 + necrosis of, 438 + neuropathic atrophy of, 479 + osteoma of, 481 + osteomalacia of, 473 + osteomyelitis of, 65, 437, 438, 451, 453, 473 + fibrosa, 476 + osteoporosis of, 437 + osteopsathyrosis, 479 + ostitis deformans, 474 + Paget's disease of, 474 + periosteum, function of, 435 + periostitis, 437 + pulsating haematoma of, 498 + pyogenic diseases of, 438 + regeneration of, 436 + rickety affections of, 468 + sarcoma of, 492 + sclerosis of, 435 + scurvy affecting, 473 + secondary tumours of, 499 + surgical anatomy of, 434 + staphylococcal diseases of, 438 + syphilitic diseases of, 461, 465 + transplantation of, 436 + tuberculous diseases of, 454 + tumours of, 480 + malignant, 492, 499 + metastatic, 499 + thyreoid, 500 + typhoid, infection of, 452 + X-ray appearances in diseases of, 445, 455, 485, 491, 496 + + Bovine tuberculosis, 136 + + Brachial aneurysm, 318 + artery, embolus of, 93 + compression of, 269 + birth-paralysis, 362 + fibrositis, 413 + neuralgia, 371 + plexus, lesions of, 360 + + Brain, joint affections in lesions of, 537 + syphilitic lesions of, 161 + + Branchial dermoids, 211 + + Brasdor's operation for aneurysm, 308 + + Brodie's abscess, 448 + + Bruises, 218 + + Bubo, 329 + bullet, 153 + of soft sores, 155 + + Bullet bubo, 153 + + Bullets, embedded, 231 + varieties of, 230 + + Burnol, 238 + + Burns, 233 + classification, of, 234 + electrical, 239 + pathology of, 233 + by X-rays, 239 + + Bursae. _See also_ Individual Bursae + adventitious, 426 + affections of, 426 + individual, 428 + diseases of, 426, 428 + haematoma of, 426 + hydrops of, 427 + hygroma of, 423 + inflammation of, 426 + injuries of, 426 + loose bodies in, 427 + syphilis of, 428 + tuberculosis of, 428 + tumours of, 427, 428 + + + Cachexia, cancerous, 207 + + Calcanean bursa, 432 + + Calcification in arteries, 282 + in muscles, 416 + in tuberculosis, 136 + + Callosities, 376 + + Callous ulcers, 79, 84 + + Cancer, 202 + arsenic, 395 + of bone, 499 + cachexia in, 207 + chimney-sweep's, 395 + colloid, 210 + columnar epithelial, 209 + contagiousness of, 205 + cystic, 210 + definition of, 202 + degeneration of, 205 + encephaloid, 210 + _en cuirasse_, 204 + glandular, 210 + glandular infection in, 203 + increase of, 207 + of lymph glands, 340 + medullary, 210 + melanotic, 210, 341, 397 + paraffin, 395 + pigmented, 210 + radium treatment of, 208 + rodent, 210, 395 + scirrhous, 210 + of skin, 394 + spread of, 204 + squamous epithelial, 208 + ulceration of, 205 + varieties of, 208 + X-ray, 208 + + Cancrum oris, 102 + + Cantharides plaster, 42 + + Capillaries, anatomy of, 258 + + Capillary angioma, 294 + loops, 3 + + Carbolic gangrene, 95 + + Carbon-dioxide snow, 297 + + Carbuncle, 380 + + Carcinoma. _See_ Cancer + + Caries, 437, 438 + of articular surfaces, 502, 514 + sicca, 438 + syphilitic, 462 + tuberculous, 455 + + Carotid aneurysm, 314 + artery, compression of, 269 + tubercle, 269 + + Carpal ganglion, 214 + + Carron oil, 238 + + Cartilage, grafting of, 16 + repair of, 7 + ulceration of, 502, 514 + + Cartilaginous exostosis, 191, 481 + + Caseation in tuberculosis, 136 + + Catalepsy, 116 + + Catgut, infection by, 51 + preparation of, 245 + + Cautery in haemorrhage, 271 + + Cavernous angioma, 298 + lymphangioma, 327 + + Cellulitis, 52 + in different situations, 58 + diffuse, 52 + + Cephalic or Kopf tetanus, 116 + + Cerebro-spinal meningitis, 115 + + Cervical adenitis, 332 + rib, 360 + + Chalk stones in gouty joints, 523 + + Chancre, concealed, 152, 153, 157 + erratic, 153 + extra-genital, 153 + hard, 151 + meatal, 152 + multiple, 152 + relapsing false indurated, 172 + soft, 154 + urethral, 152 + + Chancroid, 154 + + Charcoal poultice, 84 + + Charcot's disease, 533 + + Cheloid. _See_ Keloid + + Chemiotaxis, 32 + + Chigoe, 130 + + Chilblain, 378 + + Chimney-sweep's cancer, 395 + + Chloroma, 200 + + Chondroma, 189, 487 + multiple, 544 + + Chondromatosis, 488 + + Chondro-sarcoma, 189, 200, 487 + + Chordoma, 200 + + Choroiditis, syphilitic, 177 + + Chylorrhoea, 325 + + Chylo-thorax, 325 + + Chylous ascites, 325 + + Cicatrices, varieties of, 400 + + Cicatricial contraction, 4 + tissue, 4 + + Circumflex nerve. _See_ Axillary Nerve + + Cirsoid aneurysm, 299 + + Claw-hand, 369 + + Cloacae in bone, 443 + + Cocci, 18 + + Coeliac artery, aneurysm of, 313 + + Coley's fluid, 201 + + Collapse, 254 + + Collateral circulation, 267 + + Colles' law, 178 + + Colloid cancer, 210 + + Common peroneal nerve, 370 + + Compound palmar ganglion, 217, 423 + + Condylomata, 158, 174 + + Congenital fistulas, 60 + telangiectasis, 294 + + Connective tissue, repair of, 6 + + Contracture of joints, 502 + of muscles, 415 + paralytic, 347 + + Contusions, 218 + + Cornea, syphilitic ulceration of, 177 + + Corns, 377 + + Corpora oryzoidea, 539 + + Counter-irritants, 37, 42 + + Craniotabes, 175, 176, 465 + + Crural fibrositis, 413 + + Crutch paralysis, 351 + + Cupping dry, 39 + wet, 42 + + Cutis anserina, 36 + + Cyanosis, traumatic, 254 + + Cyst, 212 + atheromatous, 389 + Baker's, 539 + blood 214, 220 + of bone, 477, 500 + dentigerous, 193 + derma, 210 + exudation, 212 + ganglionic, 215 + haemorrhagic, 220 + hydatid, 213 + implantation, 212 + of joints, 538 + lymph, 214 + lymphatic, 219, 328 + omental, 329 + parasitic, 213 + retention, 212 + sebaceous, 212, 389 + serous, 219 + venous, 289 + + Cystic adenoma, 202 + carcinoma, 210 + hygroma of neck, 328 + lymphangioma, 327, 328 + + + Dactylitis, syphilitic, 176, 460, 466 + tuberculous, 460 + + Dancer's sprain, 406 + + Deafness, syphilitic, 178 + + Deformities. _See_ Individual Regions + + Delhi boil, 129 + + Delirium, in surgical patients, 255 + traumatic, 257 + + Delirium tremens, 256 + + Dentigerous cyst, 193 + + Dercum on adiposus dolorosa, 186 + + Derma-cysts, 210 + + Dermatitis, 239, 292 + + Dermoids, 210 + + Diabetic gangrene, 96 + + Diarsenol, 163 + + Diapedesis of red corpuscles, 32 + + Diaphysial aclasis, 483 + + Diffuse aneurysm, 302 + cellulitis, 52 + fibromatosis, 194 + lipomatosis, 187 + neuro-fibromatosis, 355 + osteoma, 485 + suppuration, 52 + + Diphtheria, 109 + antitoxin in, 111 + intubation in, 111 + + Diplococci, 19 + + Dislocation of nerves, 351, 369 + pathological, 514 + of tendons, 408 + + Double cyanide gauze, 247 + + Drainage of wounds, 222 + + Dressings, surgical, 247 + + Drill-bone, 418 + + Drop-finger, 411 + -foot, 370 + -wrist, 365 + + Drunkard's palsy, 351, 364 + + Duchenne's paralysis, 361 + + Ducrey's bacillus, 154 + + Duodenum, ulceration of, in burns, 236 + + Dwarf, rickety, 469 + syphilitic, 178 + + + Eburnation of articular surfaces, 557 + + Ecchondroses, 527 + + Ecchymosis, 218 + + Echinococcus, 213 + + Echthyma, 158 + + Eczema, varicose, 292 + + Elbow, angler's, 406 + cellulitis of, 58 + tennis, 406 + + Electricity, injuries by, 239 + + Electrolysis in angioma, 297 + + Elephantiasis, varieties of, 360, 384, 386 + + Embolism, 281 + air, 265 + + Embolism, fat, 254 + of individual arteries, 93 + + Embolus, 281 + + Emigration of leucocytes, 32 + + Emotional shock, 251 + + Emphysema, 99, 102 + + Emprosthotonos, 214 + + Empyema of joints, 501, 518 + + Encephaloid cancer, 210 + + Endarteritis obliterans, 282 + syphilitic, 161 + + Endo-aneurysmorrhaphy, 307 + + Endothelioma, 196 + of bone, 492 + + Epicritic sensibility of nerves, 343 + + Epidermis, grafting, 12 + repair of, 4 + + Epiphysial cartilage, 434 + junction, 434 + in rickets, 469 + + Epiphysiolysis, 440 + + Epiphysitis, 437 + syphilitic, 465 + + Epithelial tumours, 201 + + Epithelioma, 208 + chimney-sweep's, 395 + lupus, 384 + paraffin, 395 + in scars, 402 + sinus, 500 + of skin, 394 + trade, 395 + varieties of, 208 + X-ray, 395 + + Epithelium grafting, 12 + repair of, 6 + + Epulis, 491 + + Erb's paralysis, 361 + + Erysipelas, varieties of, 107 + + Erythema pernio, 378 + nodosum, 442 + + Evaporating lotions, 41 + + Exfoliation, 438 + + Exophthalmos, pulsating, 317 + + Exostosis, 191, 481 + bursata, 481 + cancellous, 481 + cartilaginous, 191, 481 + false, 192 + ivory, 481 + multiple, 483 + spongy, 191, 481 + subungual, 191, 404, 481 + + Explosives, wounds by, 231 + + External iliac artery, embolus of, 93 + + External popliteal nerve. _See_ Common Peroneal Nerve + + Extravasation of blood, 259 + + Exudates, varieties of, 33 + + Exudation cysts, 212 + + Eye, syphilitic lesions of, 160, 176, 177 + + + Facial artery, compression of, 269 + erysipelas, 107 + + Fainting, 249 + + Farcy, 125 + + Fascia, grafting of, 16 + + Fat embolism, 254 + grafting of, 16 + + Fatty hernia, 187 + tumours, 184 + + Feet, trench, 96 + + Femoral aneurysm, 318 + artery compression of, 269 + embolus of, 93 + lymph glands, 323 + + Fever, 35 + + Fibro-adenoma, 202 + + Fibroblasts, 3 + + Fibroid, recurrent, of Paget, 199, 392, 420 + uterine, 195 + + Fibroma, 194 + of bone, 491 + diffuse, 194 + recurrent, of Paget, 199, 392, 420 + of skin, 391 + varieties of, 194 + + Fibromatosis, diffuse, 194 + + Fibro-myoma, 195 + + Fibro-sarcoma, 199 + + Fibrositis, varieties of, 372, 412 + + Filaria Bancrofti, 326 + + Filarial disease, 326 + + Finger, chancre of, 154 + drop-, 411 + mallet-, 411 + + Fingers, gouty affections of, 523 + whitlow of, 55 + + Finsen light treatment, 138 + + Firearms, wounds by, 225, 227, 230 + + First intention, healing by, 2 + + Fistula, 60 + congenital, 60 + lymphatic, 325 + varieties of, 60 + + Fluctuation, 49 + + Fomentations, 37, 41 + + Foot, cellulitis of, 58 + drop-, 370 + Madura, 129 + perforating ulcer of, 73 + + Forci-pressure in haemorrhage, 271 + + Forearm, aneurysm of, 318 + cellulitis of, 58 + + Foreign bodies, embedded, 6, 231 + + Fracture, pathological, 444 + + Fraenkel's pneumococcus, 28 + + Fragilitas ossium, 479 + + Friedlander's pneumo-bacillus, 28 + + Frost-bite, gangrene from, 95 + + Furunculus orientalis, 129 + + + Galyl, 163 + + Ganglion, 214, 215, 217 + compound palmar, 217, 423 + + Ganglionic neuroma, 353 + + Gangrene, 86 + acute infective, 99 + emphysematous, 102 + from angio-sclerosis, 98 + bacterial varieties of, 99 + from burns and scalds, 95 + cancrum oris, 102 + carbolic, 95 + from chemical agents, 95 + clinical types of, 86 + varieties of, 88 + from constriction of vessels, 94 + diabetic, 96 + dry, 86 + embolic, 92 + from ergot, 98 + from frost-bite, 95 + gas, 102 + from interference with circulation, 86 + following ligation of arteries, 94 + line of demarcation in, 87 + malignant oedema, 101 + moist, 87 + noma, 102 + phagedaena, 153 + Raynaud's disease, 97 + senile, 88 + traumatic, 94 + from trench feet, 96 + white, 93 + from whitlow, 99 + + Gas gangrene, 102 + + Gasserian ganglion, removal of, 375 + + Gauze, varieties of, 247 + + Gauze, sterilisation of, 245 + + Gelatin, injection of, in aneurysm, 309 + in haemophilia, 280 + + Gelatinous degeneration of joints, 515 + + Giant cells, 3 + + Glanders, 123 + + Glands, lymph. _See_ Lymph Glands + + Glioma, 196 + + Gliomatous arthropathies, 534 + + Glio-sarcoma, 200 + + Gloves in surgery, 244 + + Gluteal aneurysm, 319 + fibrositis, 372, 413 + + Glycogen reaction, 30 + + Glycosuria in perforating ulcer, 73 + + Golfer's back, 405 + + Gonorrhoeal bursitis, 428 + joint lesions, 510 + lymphangitis, 325 + myositis, 416 + ophthalmia, joint lesions following, 510 + rheumatism, 510 + teno-synovitis, 423 + + Gout, joint affections in, 522 + + Gouty bursitis, 428 + joints, 522 + teno-synovitis, 422 + tophi, 523 + ulcers, 77 + + Grafting of bone, 436 + of epithelium, 12 + of mucous membrane, 16 + of skin, 11 + of tissues, 10 + + Granulation, healing by, 5 + tissue, formation of, 2 + syphilitic, 146 + tuberculous, 136 + + Granulations, 2 + + Granuloma, 42 + + Groin, cellulitis of, 59 + filarial disease in lymphatics of, 326 + + Growing pains, 451 + + Growth fever, 451 + + Gumma, 168 + of bone, 464 + peri-bursal, 521 + periosteal, 521 + peri-synovial, 521 + subcutaneous, 76 + syphilitic, 168 + + Gummatous infiltration, 168 + + Gunshot wounds, 225, 227, 230 + + + Haematemesis, 259 + post-operative, 275 + + Haematoma, 220 + bursal, 426 + pulsating, of bone, 498 + + Haematuria, 259 + + Haemophilia, 277 + + Haemophilic joint, 531 + + Haemoptysis, 259 + + Haemorrhage, 266 + arrest of, 266, 270, 272, 274 + arterial, 259 + capillary, 260 + cautery in, 271 + constitutional effects of, 275 + digital compression in, 269 + external, 259 + forci-pressure in, 271 + intermediate, 272 + internal, 259 + ligature in, 270 + in operations, 269 + prevention of, 269 + primary, 266 + reactionary, 272 + saline infusions in, 276 + secondary, 273 + styptics in, 271 + torsion in, 271 + tourniquets in, 270, 272 + toxic, 275 + from varicose veins, 292 + venous, 259 + + Haemorrhagic diathesis, 277 + + Haemostatics, 271 + + Hair, syphilitic lesions of, 159 + + Hand, claw-, 369 + + Hands, disinfection of, 244 + + Hard chancre, 151 + + Healing by blood-clot, 6 + by first intention, 2 + by granulation, 5 + by primary union, 2 + rate of, 9 + under scab, 6 + by second intention, 5 + sore, 69, 81 + ulcer, 77 + by union of granulating surfaces, 5 + + Heart, massage of, 265 + + Heberden's nodes, 529 + + Hectic fever, 62 + + Heliotherapy, 139 + + Hernia, fatty, 187 + of muscle, 408 + + Herpes, syphilitic, 156 + + Hilton's method of opening abscess, 50 + + Hodgkin's disease, 377 + + Horns, varieties of, 389, 391 + + Housemaid's knee, 426, 431 + + Hunter's operation for aneurysm, 307 + + Hutchinson's teeth, 177 + + Hydatid cysts, 213 + of bone, 467 + of muscle, 421 + thrill, 214 + + Hydrocele of neck, 328 + + Hydrophobia, 115, 118 + + Hydrops, 501, 518 + + Hygroma of axilla, 328 + bursal, 427 + of neck, 328 + + Hyperaemia, 32 + active, 39 + artificial, 36 + passive, 38 + in tuberculosis, 138 + + Hyperostosis, 435 + syphilitic, 464 + + Hypertrophic pulmonary osteo-arthropathy, 480 + + Hysterical joint affections, 537 + + + Ice-bags, 41 + + Ichthyma, syphilitic, 158 + + Igni-puncture in naevus, 297 + + Iliac aneurysm, 318 + + Immunity, 22 + + Imperial drink, 40 + + Implantation cysts, 212 + + Infantile scurvy, 473 + + Infection, accidental, 241 + by catgut, 51 + mixed, 20 + prevention of, 243 + of wounds, 241 + + Inflammation, 31 + changes in, 32 + chronic, 42 + clinical aspects of, 33 + constitutional disturbance in, 35 + general principles of treatment in, 36, 39 + + Inflammation, leucocytosis in, 36 + stages of, 32 + + Infusion of saline solution, 276 + + Ingrowing toe-nail, 403 + + Inguinal aneurysm, 318 + lymph glands, 323 + + Injuries, 218. _See also_ Individual Tissues and Regions + constitutional effects of, 249 + + Innominate aneurysm, 314 + + Inoculation tubercle, 382 + + Insects, poisoning by, 130 + + Instruments, sterilisation of, 245 + + Intercostal fibrositis, 413 + + Intermittent claudication of vessels, 98 + + Internal popliteal nerve. _See_ Tibial Nerve + + Interstitial keratitis, 177 + + Intestine, repair of, 9 + + Intoxication, bacterial, 21 + + Intracranial aneurysm, 316 + + Intra-cystic growths, 202 + + Intubation of larynx, 111 + + Involucrum, 443 + + Iodine, catgut, 246 + for disinfection of skin, 245 + reaction, 30 + + Iodoform gauze, 247 + injection of, 142 + in joint diseases, 519 + + Iritis, syphilitic, 160 + + Irrigation, continuous, 54 + + Irritable ulcers, 79 + + Ischaemic contracture of muscles, 415 + + Ischial bursa, 430 + + Ischias scoliotica, 372 + + Ivory exostosis, 481 + + + Jaws, actinomycosis of, 127 + changes in, in rickets, 470 + cystic tumours of, 193 + + Jigger, 130 + + Joints. _See also_ Individual Joints + ankylosis of, 503 + bacterial diseases of, 506 + bleeder's, 531 + Charcot's disease of, 533 + chondromata, multiple, of, 544 + contracture of, 502 + cysts of, 538 + developmental errors of, 505 + diseases of, general, 501, 506 + disorganisation of, 502 + empyema of, 501 + gelatinous degeneration of, 515 + gliomatous arthropathies, 534 + gonococcal affections of, 510 + gouty affections of, 522 + haemophilic, 531 + hydrops of, 501 + hysterical affections of, 537 + impaired mobility of, 502 + iodoform in diseases of, 519 + loose bodies in, 529, 539 + mimetic affections of, 537 + nerve lesions affecting, 532 + neuro-arthropathies, 532 + osteo-arthritis, 524 + pneumococcal infection of, 509 + pyaemic affections of, 508 + pyogenic diseases of, 506 + rheumatic affections of, 523, 524 + rigidity of, 502 + scarlet fever, infection of, in 508 + spinal diseases affecting, 532 + starting pains in, 502, 517 + synostosis, 503 + syphilitic diseases of, 521 + tuberculous diseases of, 512 + tumours of, 538 + typhoid infection of, 508 + white swelling of, 515, 518 + + Jumper's sprain, 406 + + + Keloid, 194, 401 + + Keratitis, interstitial, in syphilis, 177 + + Keratoma of nail bed, 391 + + Kharsivan, 163 + + Klapp's suction bells, 39 + + Klebs-Loffler bacillus, 109 + + Klumpke's paralysis, 361 + + Knee, cellulitis of, 58 + ganglion of, 215 + housemaid's, 426, 431 + + Kopf or cephalic tetanus, 116 + + Kyphosis, 471 + + + Labourer's back, 405 + + Larynx, syphilis of, 177 + + Leeches, 41 + + Leg ulcer, 72 + varicose veins of, 287 + + Leiter's lead tubes, 41 + + Leontiasis ossea, 485 + + Leucocytes, emigration of, 32 + varieties of, 29 + wandering, 3 + + Leucocythaemia, 340 + + Leucocytosis, 22, 29 + absence of, 30 + digestion, 30 + after haemorrhage, 30 + local, 32 + physiological, 29, 30 + post-operative, 30 + + Leucopenia, 30 + + Leucoplakia, 167 + + Lightning stroke, 240 + + Line of demarcation in gangrene, 87 + + Lingual dermoids, 211 + + Lipoma, 184 + arborescent, 423 + of bone, 187, 491 + diffuse, 187 + intra-muscular, 188 + multiple, 186 + nasi, 393 + periosteal, 187 + subcutaneous, 184, 186 + subserous, 187 + subsynovial, 187 + + Lipomatosis, diffuse, 187 + + Lipping of bone, 527 + + Liquor epispasticus, 42 + puris, 45 + + Listerian methods of wound treatment, 242 + + Locking of joints, 505 + + Lock-jaw, 113 + + Locomotor ataxia, joint lesions in, 532 + + Long thoracic nerve, injuries of, 363 + + Loose bodies in bursae, 427 + in joints, 529, 539 + in tendon sheaths, 423 + varieties of, 539 + + Lotion, evaporating, 41 + + Luargol, 163 + + Luetin, 149 + + Lumbago, 412 + + Lumbo-sacral fibrositis, 412 + + Lupus, 134, 382 + epithelioma, 384 + syphilitic, 169 + tuberculous, 382 + varieties of, 383, 393 + + Lymph, 321 + cysts, 214 + glands, cancer of, 340 + diseases of, 329 + functions of, 221 + sarcoma of, 341 + surgical anatomy of, 321 + syphilitic diseases of, 337 + tuberculosis of, 331 + tumours of, 340 + oedema, 325 + scrotum, 389 + vessels, diseases of, 325 + injuries of, 323 + + Lymphadenitis, 53, 329 + + Lymphadenoma, 337 + + Lymphangiectasis, 214, 326 + + Lymphangioma, varieties of, 327 + + Lymphangioplasty, 325, 386 + + Lymphangio-sarcoma, 199 + + Lymphangitis, 325 + septic, 53 + varieties of, 325 + + Lymphatic cyst, 328 + fistula, 324 + oedema, 325 + + Lymphatics, 321 + + Lymphocytosis, 29 + + Lymphorrhagia, 323 + + Lympho-sarcoma, 199, 340 + + + Macewen's method of compressing abdominal aorta, 269 + + Macrophages, 22 + + Madura foot, 129 + _Main en griffe_, 369 + + Malacia of bones, 473 + + Malignant adenoma, 209 + cachexia, 207 + oedema, 101 + pustule, 120 + tumours, 183 + ulcers, 77 + + Mallein test, 125 + + Mallet-finger, 411 + + Malum senile, 524 + + Marriage and syphilis, 167 + + Matas' operation for aneurysm, 307 + + Median nerve, lesions of, 367 + + Medullary cancer, 210 + + Melaena, 259 + + Melanotic cancer, 210, 397 + sarcoma, 200 + + Melon-seed bodies, 539 + + Meningitis, basal, 115 + cerebro-spinal, 115 + + Mercury in syphilis, administration of, 165 + + Metchnikoff's cream, 157 + + Michel's clips, 222 + + Micrococci, 18 + + Micrococcus tetragenus, 29 + + Micro-organisms, 18 + + Microphages, 22 + + Mimetic joint affections, 537 + + Miner's elbow, 426 + + Mitchell's operation for varicose veins, 294 + + Mixed infection, 20 + naevus, 295 + venereal infection, 156 + + Moist gangrene, 87 + + Moles, 390 + naevoid, 295 + + Molluscum fibrosum, 194, 359, 391 + + Moore-Corradi method of treating aneurysm, 308 + + Mosetig-Moorhof on filling of bone cavities, 447 + + Mother's mark, 294 + + Muco-pus, 52 + + Mucous membrane, grafting of, 16 + suppuration in, 51 + patches, 160, 174 + + Multilocular cystic tumours of jaw, 193 + + Mummification, 86 + + Muscle, affections of, 405 + atrophy of, 412 + calcification of, 416 + congenital absence of, 411 + contracture of, 415 + contusion of, 405 + diseases of, 411 + gonorrhoea of, 416 + grafting of, 16 + hernia of, 408 + hydatid cysts of, 421 + inflammation of, 415 + injuries of, 405 + ossification in, 416 + repair of, 8 + rheumatism of, 412 + rupture of, 405, 406 + sprain of, 405 + syphilis of, 416 + tuberculosis of, 416 + tumours of, 420 + wounds of, 409 + + Muscular rheumatism, 412 + + Musculo-cutaneous nerve, 364 + + Musculo-spiral nerve. _See_ Radial Nerve + + Mustard leaves, 42 + + Mycetoma, 129 + + Myelitis, syphilitic, 161 + + Myeloma, 195, 491 + of bone, 491 + of tendon sheaths, 424 + + Myoma, 195 + + Myo-sarcoma, 200 + + Myositis ossificans, 416, 418 + varieties of, 415 + + Myxo-adenoma, 202 + + Myxoma, 194 + of bone, 491 + + Myxo-sarcoma, 200 + + + Naevoid mole, 295 + + Naevus, 294 + electrolysis of, 297 + operations for, 298 + radium treatment of, 297 + varieties of, 294 + + Nail fold, whitlow of, 56 + horns, 391 + + Nails, affections of, 402 + ingrowing, 403 + regeneration of, 7 + syphilitic lesions of, 159, 402 + + Nasal bones, syphilitic disease of, 188, 462 + + Naso-pharyngeal polypus, 491 + + Natal sore, 129 + + Neck, cystic hygroma of, 328 + glands of, diseases, 332 + hydrocele of, 328 + lipomatosis of, 187 + painful stiff-, 413 + + Necrosis, acute, 439 + of bone, 438 + quiet, of Paget, 452 + syphilitic, 462 + + Neo-diarsenol, 163 + -kharsivan, 163 + -salvarsan, 163 + + Neoplasms, 181 + + Nerve of Bell. _See_ Long Thoracic Nerve + + Nerves, 342. _See also_ Individual Nerves + alcohol injections of, 374 + anatomy of, 342 + avulsion of, 375 + blocking of, 251, 252 + bullet wounds of, 346 + contusion of, 345 + crushing of, 345 + diseases of, 352 + dislocation of, 351, 369 + effects of division of, 344 + gun-shot wounds of, 346 + grafting of, 16 + implicated in scar tissue, 345 + individual, surgery of, 360 + injuries of, 344 + joint affections in lesions of, 532 + reaction of degeneration, 347 + regeneration of, 9, 346 + in scar tissue, 345 + sensibility, forms of, 343 + subcutaneous injuries of, 350 + suture of, primary, 348 + secondary, 349 + Tinel's sign, 349 + torn, 345 + tumours of, 353 + ulcers in lesions of, 73, 82 + + Neuralgia, varieties of, 371 + + Neurectomy, 375 + + Neuritis, multiple peripheral, varieties of, 352 + traumatic, 352 + + Neuro-arthropathies, 352. _See also_ Individual Joints + + Neuro-fibromatosis, 355, 359 + + Neurolysis, 345 + + Neuroma, stump, 344 + varieties of, 353 + "914," 613 + + Nodes, periosteal, 464 + Heberden's 529 + + Noma, 102 + + Nose, sebaceous adenoma of, 393 + + Novo-arseno-billon, 163 + + Nucleinate of soda, 29 + + + Odontoma, 192 + varieties of, 193 + + O'Dwyer's intubation apparatus, 111 + + Oedema, 32, 34 + angio-neurotic, 348 + lymphatic, 325 + malignant, 101 + persistent, 109 + + Olecranon bursa, 428 + + Omental cyst, 329 + + Onychia, varieties of, 402 + + Operations during shock, 252 + + Opisthotonos, 114 + + Opsonins, 22 + + Orbital aneurysm, 317 + + Orthotonos, 114 + + Ossification in muscles, tendons, and fasciae, 416 + + Ossifying junction, 434 + + Osteo-arthritis, 524 + syphilitic, 522 + + Osteo-arthropathy, pulmonary, 480 + + Osteochondritis dessicans, 544 + + Osteogenesis imperfecta, 479 + + Osteoid sarcoma, 200 + + Osteoma, 191, 481 + cancellous, 191 + compact, 192 + diffuse, 485 + ivory, 192 + multiple, 544 + in muscles and tendons, 416 + spongy, 191 + subungual, 191, 404, 481 + + Osteomalacia, varieties of, 473 + + Osteomyelitis, 65, 437 + acute, 65, 438, 451, 453 + after amputation, 453 + bipolar, 439 + fibrosa, 476 + gummatous, 462 + from infection from soft parts, 453 + pyogenic, 438 + relapsing, 448 + sequelae of, 443 + streptococcal, 451 + tuberculous, 456, 458 + in typhoid fever, 452 + + Osteophytes, 435 + + Osteoporosis, 437 + + Osteopsathyrosis, 479 + + Osteosarcoma, 200 + + Osteosclerosis, 435 + + Ostitis deformans, 474 + rarefying, 474 + + Ovarian dermoids, 211 + + Ovary, grafting of, 16 + + Ozoena, 176 + + + Pachydermatocele, 360 + + Paget's disease of bone, 474 + of nipple, 397 + recurrent fibroma, 199, 392, 420 + + Pain, starting, in joint disease, 502, 517 + varieties of, 35 + + Painful subcutaneous nodules, 354, 392 + + Palate, syphilitic lesions of, 178, 462 + + Palmar ganglion, compound, 217, 423 + + Papilloma, varieties of, 201, 392 + + Paraffin cancer, 395 + + Paralysis, brachial birth, 362 + Erb-Duchenne, 361 + Klumpke's, 361 + post-anaesthetic, 360 + pseudo, of syphilis, 174, 466 + + Parasitic bacteria, 20 + cysts, 213 + + Paronychia. _See_ Onychia + + Parotid abscess in pyaemia, 66 + lymph glands, 321 + tumours, 195 + + Parotitis, 66 + + Parrot's nodes, 175, 465 + + Passive hyperaemia, Bier's, 38 + + Pasteur's treatment for hydrophobia, 119 + + Pelvis, rickety changes in, 471 + + Perforating ulcer, 73, 82 + + Perichondritis, syphilitic, 465 + + Peri-lymphangitis, 325 + + Periosteum, function of, 434 + gumma of, 464 + in rickets, 469 + + Periostitis, 437. _See also_ Osteomyelitis + syphilitic, 461 + tuberculous, 455 + + Peripheral neuritis, 352 + + Peroneal nerve, 370 + + Peronei tendons, dislocation of, 409 + + Petrifying sarcoma, 200 + + Phagedaena, 153 + + Phagedaenic ulcers, 80, 85 + + Phagocytes, 3, 22 + + Phagocytosis, 22 + + Phimosis, with hard chancre, 152 + with soft sores, 155 + + Phlebitis, 285, 292 + + Phlegmasia alba dolens, 286 + + Picric acid, 13, 237 + + Pigeon-breast, 471 + + Plantaris, rupture of, 408 + + Pleurodynia, 413 + + Pleurosthotonos, 114 + + Pneumo-bacillus, Friedlander's bacteria, 28 + + Pneumococcal arthritis, 509 + + Pneumococcus, 28 + + Polypi, 195 + + Popliteal aneurysm, 320 + artery, embolus of, 93 + bursae, 432 + lymph glands, 323 + nerves. _See_ Common Peroneal Nerve and Tibial Nerve + + Port-wine stain, 294 + + Post-anaesthetic paralysis, 360 + -anal dimple, 211 + + Posterior auricular lymph glands, 322 + + Post-rectal dermoids, 211 + + Potato-nose, 393 + + Poultice, 37 + charcoal, 84 + + Pre-auricular lymph glands, 322 + + Prepatellar bursa, 431 + + Pressure sores, 70, 82 + + Primary union of wounds, 2 + + Protopathic sensibility of nerves, 343 + + Proud flesh, 79 + + Psammoma, 200 + + Pseudo-leucaemia, 337 + + Pseudo-paralysis of syphilis, 174, 466 + + Psoas bursa, 430 + + Pulmonary osteo-arthropathy, 480 + + Pulsating aorta, 305, 314 + exophthalmos, 317 + haematoma of bone, 498 + + Punctured wounds, 222 + + Purpura, 280 + + Purulent blister, 55 + + Pus, 45 + varieties of, 46 + + Pyaemia, 64 + abscess in joints in, 508 + + Pyogenic bacteria, 24, 29 + + + Quadriceps extensor femoris, rupture of, 408 + + + Rabies, 118 + + Rachitis, 468 + adolescentium, 472 + + Radial nerve, lesions of, 364 + + Radium, in lupus, 385 + in cancer, 208 + in naevus, 297 + ulceration from, 239 + + Ranula, 329 + + Rarefying ostitis, 437 + + Ray fungus, 126 + + Raynaud's disease, 97 + + Reaction of degeneration, 347 + + Reactionary haemorrhage, 272 + + Recklinghausen's disease, 355 + + Recurrent fibroid of Paget, 199, 392, 420 + + Repair. _See_ Individual Tissues + conditions interfering with, 17 + after loss of tissue, 4 + modifications of, 4 + of separated parts, 5 + + Rest, 17 + + Rests, foetal, 181 + + Retention cysts, 212 + + Retro-pharyngeal lymph glands, 322 + + Reverdin's method of skin-grafting, 13 + + Rhabdomyoma, 196 + + Rheumatic arthritis, 524 + fever, 509 + gout, 524 + torticollis, 413 + + Rheumatism, acute, 509 + chronic, 523 + gonorrhoeal, 510 + muscular, 412 + scarlatinal, 508 + + Rheumatoid arthritis, 524 + + Rhinophyma, 393 + + Rickets, 468 + bone lesions in, 469 + changes in skeleton in, 470 + late, 472 + scurvy, 473 + + Rickety, dwarf, 469 + pelvis, 471 + rosary, 469 + scoliosis, 471 + + Rider's bone, 418 + sprain, 407 + + Rigidity of joints, 502 + + Rigor, 36 + + Risus sardonicus, 114 + + Rodent cancer, 210, 395 + ulcer, 210, 395 + + Rontgen rays. _See_ X-rays + + Rose or erysipelas, 107 + + Roseola, syphilitic, 158 + + Rupia, syphilitic, 158 + + + Sabre-blade deformity of tibia, 466 + + Sacculated aneurysm, 302 + + Saddle-nose deformity, 174 + + Saline infusions in haemorrhage, 276 + + Salvarsan in syphilis, 162 + + Sapraemia, 60 + chronic, 62 + + Saprophytic bacteria, 20 + + Sarcoma, 197 + of bone, 492 + inoperable, 201 + of joints, 538 + of lymph glands, 341 + melanotic, 200 + periosteal, 493 + of skin, 398 + of synovial membrane, 538 + of tendon sheaths, 424 + varieties, 199 + + Scab, healing under, 6 + + Scalds, 233 + + Scapula, winged, 363 + + Scarlet fever, joint lesions in, 508 + + Scars. _See_ Cicatrices + + Sciatic nerve, lesions of, 370 + + Sciatica, 371 + + Scirrhous cancer, 210 + + Sclavo's serum, 123 + + Scoliosis, rickety, 471 + in sciatica, 372 + + Scorbutic ulcers, 77 + + Scrotum, elephantiasis of, 389 + + Sculler's sprain, 406 + + Scurvy, 473 + rickets, 473 + + Sebaceous adenoma, 393 + cysts, 389 + horns, 389 + + Secondary haemorrhage, 273 + syphilis, 151, 147 + + Selenium in malignant tumours, 201, 208 + + Semilunar ganglion, 375 + + Semi-membranosus bursa, 432 + + Sepsis, 18 + + Septicaemia, 53, 63 + + Sequestrectomy, 446 + + Sequestrum of bone, 438 + + Serratus anterior muscle, paralysis of, 363 + + Serum, anti-diphtheritic, 109 + anti-bacterial, 23 + anti-tetanic, 117 + disease, 23 + in haemophilia, 280 + polyvalent, 23 + Sclavo's, for anthrax, 123 + treatment, 23 + + Seton, 217 + + Shell wounds, 231 + + Shock, 250 + delayed, 252 + + Shoulder, fibrositis of, 413 + + Sinus, 59 + epithelioma, 500 + tuberculous, 143 + + "606," 162 + + Skewers for prevention of haemorrhage, 270 + + Skin, 376 + abscesses of, 382 + actinomycosis of, 126 + cancer of, 394, 398 + dermoids, 210 + grafting of, 11, 14 + preparation of, for operation, 244 + repair of, 6 + sporotrichosis of, 385 + structure of, 376 + syphilitic lesions of, 157, 166 + tuberculosis of, 382, 385 + tumours of, 391 + + Skull, bossing of, 465 + craniotabes of, 175, 176, 465 + diffuse osteoma of, 485 + natiform, 176 + Parrot's nodes, 465 + syphilitic disease of, 462 + unilateral hypertrophy of, 487 + + Slough, 86 + + Snake-bites, 131 + + Snuffles, 173 + + Soft chancre, 154 + corns, 377 + sore, 154 + + Spas, 531 + + Spasmodic tic, 373 + + Sphagnum moss, 247 + + Spinal arthropathies, 532 + cord, joint affections in lesions of, 532 + repair of, 9 + syphilis of, 161 + + Spine, changes in rickets, 471 + + Spirilla, 19 + + Spirochaete pallida, 147 + + Spironema pallidum, 147 + + Splenic fever, 119 + + Spores, 18 + + Sporotrichosis, 385 + + Sprain of muscle, 405, 407 + + Sprinter's sprain, 406 + + Staphylococci, 19, 24, 438 + + Staphylococcus albus, 26 + aureus, 25 + + Starting pains in joints, 502, 517 + + Stasis, 32 + + Sterilisation, surgical, 243 + + Sterno-mastoid lymph glands, 322 + + Stitch abscess, 51 + + Stitches. _See_ Sutures + + Streptococci, 19, 24 + + Streptococcus pyogenes, 26 + + Streptothrix actinomyces, 126 + + Strychnin poisoning, 115 + + Stump neuroma, 344 + + Styptics, 271 + + Sub-acromial bursa, 429 + + Sub-calcanean bursa, 433 + + Subclavian aneurysm, 317 + + Sub-crural bursa, 430 + + Sub-deltoid bursa, 429 + + Submaxillary lymph glands, 322 + + Submental lymph glands, 322 + + Sub-patellar bursa, 431 + + Subscapularis bursa, 430 + + Subungual exostosis, 191, 404, 481 + + Suction bells, 39 + + Suppuration, 45 + chronic, 59 + diffuse, 52 + in mucous membranes, 52 + in wounds, 50 + + Supra-clavicular lymph glands, 322 + + Supra-hyoid lymph glands, 322 + + Supra-scapular nerve, lesions of, 364 + + Surgery, definition of, 1 + Listerian, 242 + + Surgical anatomy of blood vessels, 258 + of bone, 434 + of epiphyses, 434 + of lymphatics, 321 + of nerves, 342 + of skin, 376 + + Surgical bacteriology, 17, 18 + shock, 250 + + Sutures, 221 + sterilisation of, 245 + + Sweat-glands, tumours of, 393 + + Syncope, 249 + local, 97 + + Synostosis, 503 + + Synovial membrane, tumours of, 538 + + Synovitis, 501, 506 + gonococcal, 510 + septic, 506 + serous, 506, 507 + suppurative, 507 + syphilitic, 521 + + Syphilis, 147. _See also_ Individual Tissues and Organs + + Syphilis, acquired, 146, 149 + in infants, 179 + arsenical preparations in, 162 + arteritis in, 282 + bones, lesions in, 461, 465 + brain, lesions in, 161 + of bursae, 428 + cirrhosis in, 168 + Colles' law, 178 + contracture of muscle in, 416 + dactylitis in, 176, 460, 466 + epiphysitis of infants, 465 + extra-genital, 153 + in female, 152, 164 + gumma, 168, 462 + hydrops in, 521 + incubation of, 151 + in infants, 179 + inherited, 146, 172 + contagiousness of, 178 + diagnosis of, 178 + facies of, 174, 175 + lesions of bone in, 465 + eyes in, 176, 177 + joints in, 522 + skin in, 173, 174 + teeth in, 177 + treatment of, 179 + insontium, 153 + intermediate stage of, 167 + interstitial keratitis in, 177 + iodides in, 171 + iritis in, 166 + joint lesions in, 521 + of larynx, 177 + lupus, 169 + lymphadenitis, 153, 337 + lymphangitis, 326 + in male, 152 + malignant, 161 + and marriage, 167 + mercury in, 164 + mixed infection, 156 + of mouth, 166 + of mucous membranes, 160, 173, 174 + mucous patches, 160, 174 + of muscle, 416 + of nails, 159 + of nose, 188 + onychia in, 403 + osteo-arthritis, 522 + of palate, 178, 462 + phagedaena, 153 + phimosis in, 152 + in pregnant women, 164 + primary, 151 + diagnosis of, 155 + lesion of, 146, 151 + treatment of, 163 + prophylaxis of, 149 + pseudo-paralysis of, 174, 466 + reminders, 167 + second attacks of, 172 + secondary, 151, 157 + diagnosis of, 161 + lesions of eye in, 160 + hair in, 159 + nails in, 159, 402 + skin in, 162 + treatment of, 162 + serum diagnosis, 149 + skin affections in, 157, 166 + skull, lesions of, 462 + spirochaete pallida in, 147 + stages of, 150 + stomatitis, 174 + synovitis, 521 + teeth in, 177 + of tendon sheaths, 424 + tertiary, 151, 167 + diagnosis of, 167 + general manifestations of, 167 + lesions of mucous membrane in, 171 + skin in, 168, 169 + treatment of, 171 + ulcer, 169 + ulcers in, 76, 83, 169 + virus of, 147 + Wassermann reaction in, 156 + + Syphiloma, 168 + + Syringomyelia, joint lesions in, 534 + + + Tabes dorsales, joint lesions in, 532 + + Taenia echinococcus, 213 + + Tailor's ankle, 432 + + Tailor's bottom, 426, 430 + + Tarsal ganglion, 215 + + Tarsus, tuberculosis of, 459 + + Teeth in inherited syphilis, 177 + + Telangiectasis, congenital, 294 + + Temperature in surgical diseases, 35, 40 + + Temporal artery, compression of, 269 + + Tenderness, 34 + + Tendinitis, 416 + + Tendon sheaths, affections of, 421 + syphilitic affections of, 424 + tuberculosis of, 423, 424 + tumours of, 424 + whitlow of, 57 + + Tendons. _See also_ Individual Tendons + avulsion of, 411 + calcification in, 416 + diseases of, 411 + dislocation of, 408 + ganglion of, 217 + grafting of, 16 + inflammation of, 416 + ossification of, 416 + repair of, 8 + rupture of, 406, 408 + tumours of, 420 + wounds of, 409 + + Tennis-player's elbow, 406 + + Teno-synovitis, varieties of, 421 + + Teratoma, 212 + + Tertiary syphilis, 151, 167 + + Tetanus, varieties of, 112 + + Tetany, 116 + + Thiersch's method of skin-grafting, 12 + + Thirst, treatment of, 40 + + Thoracic aneurysm, 312 + duct, subcutaneous rupture of, 325 + surgical anatomy of, 324 + wounds of, 325 + + Thorax, rickety changes in, 469 + + Thrombo-phlebitis, 285 + + Thrombosis, 32, 281, 285, 292 + + Thyreoid gland, grafting of, 16 + secondary tumours derived from, 500 + + Tibia, sabre-blade deformity of, 466 + + Tibial nerve, lesions of, 371 + + Tic, spasmodic, 373 + + Tinel's sign, 349 + + Toe-nail, ingrowing, 403 + + Toes, gouty affections of, 522 + syphilitic dactylitis of, 176, 460, 466 + tuberculous dactylitis, 460 + + Tomato tumour, 393 + + Tophi, gouty, 523 + + Torsion of blood vessels, 271 + + Torticollis, rheumatic, 413 + + Tourniquet, varieties of, 270, 272 + + Toxaemia, 21 + + Toxins, 21, 33 + + Tracheal tug in aneurysm, 312 + + Tracheotomy, 111 + + Trade arthritis, 525 + bursitis, 426 + epithelionia, 395 + + Transfusion of blood, 276 + + Transplantation of tissues, 10 + + Trench feet, 96 + + Trendelenburg's operation for varicose veins, 293 + + Treponema pallidum, 147 + + Trifacial neuralgia, 373 + + Trigeminal neuralgia, 373 + + Trismus, 117 + + Trochanteric bursa, 430 + + Trophic changes after nerve injuries, 348 + ulcer, 73 + + Tropical elephantiasis, 386 + + Trunk neuroma, 354 + + Tubercle, anatomical, 134 + bacillus, 133 + + Tuberculin, 138 + + Tuberculosis, 133. _See also_ Individual Tissues and Organs + bacillus of, 133 + of bone, 454, 456, 458 + bovine, 136 + of bursae, 428 + calcification in, 136 + caseation in, 136 + general, 135 + human, 136 + of joints, 512 + of lymph glands, 331 + of lymph vessels, 326 + modes of infection, 136 + of muscle, 416 + of nails, 403 + open-air treatment of, 137 + passive hyperaemia in, 138 + principles of treatment of, 137 + of skin, 382, 385 + of tendon sheaths, 423, 424 + trauma in causation of, 135 + vaccine treatment in, 138 + + Tuberculous abscess, 139 + arthritic fever, 516 + dactylitis, 460 + granulation tissue, 136 + lupus, 382 + lymphadenitis, 331 + lymphangitis, 326 + onychia, 403 + sinus, 143 + + Tuberculous ulcers, 73, 83 + + Tubulo-dermoids, 211 + + Tumor albus, 518 + + Tumours, 181. _See also_ Individual Tumours and Tissues + + Typhoid, joint lesions in, 508 + osteomyelitis in, 452 + + + Ulceration, of cartilage, 502, 514 + definition of, 68 + + Ulcers, 68 + ambulatory treatment of, 85 + Bazin's disease, 74, 169 + bone changes in, 79 + callous, 79, 84 + cancerous, 205 + classification of, 70 + clinical examination of, 68 + conditions of, 77 + crateriform, 395 + duodenal, in burns, 236 + epithelioma in, 500 + healing, 77 + gouty, 77 + due to imperfect circulation, 71, 82 + due to imperfect nerve-supply, 73, 82 + inflamed, 79, 85 + irritable, 79, 85 + leg, 72, 169 + malignant, 77 + perforating, 73, 82 + phagedaenic, 80, 85 + pressure, 70 + from radium, 70 + rodent, 395 + from Rontgen rays, 70 + scorbutic, 77 + skin-grafting, 14 + spreading, 79 + syphilitic, 76, 83, 158, 160, 169 + traumatic, 70, 81 + treatment of, 80 + trophic, 73 + tuberculous, 73, 83 + varicose, 72 + weak, 77, 83 + + Ulnar nerve, lesions of, 368 + + Uterine fibroids, 195 + + + Vaccine treatment, 23, 40 + + Varicose aneurysm, 311 + eczema, 292 + ulcer, 72 + veins, 287 + + Varix, 287 + + Veins, anatomy of, 258 + entrance of air into, 265 + injuries of, 264 + repair of, 269 + rupture of, 264 + thrombosis of, 281 + varicose, 287 + wounds of, 264 + + Veldt sores, 382 + + Venereal disease. _See_ Syphilis + soft sore, 154 + + Venesection, 42 + + Venous cysts, 289 + + Verruca, 392 + + Vibrion septique, 101 + + Villous papilloma, 201 + + Volkmann's ischaemic contracture, 415 + + Vulva, diphtheria of, 111 + + + Wardrop's operation for aneurysm, 308 + + Wart, 201, 392 + venereal, 393 + X-ray, 239 + + Wassermann's reaction, 156, 162 + + Weaver's bottom, 426, 430 + + Weir-Mitchell treatment in hysterical joint affections, 538 + + Wens, 389 + + Wet-cupping, 42 + + White swelling of joints, 515, 518 + + Whitlow, 55 + gangrene from, 99 + at nail fold, 56 + purulent blister, 55 + subcutaneous, 56 + subperiosteal, 58 + of tendon sheaths, 57 + thecal, 57 + + Whitlow, of toes, 55 + varieties of, 55 + + Winged scapula, 363 + + Wool-sorter's disease, 121 + + Wounds, 220. _See also_ Individual Tissues and Regions + acute suppuration in, 50 + bullet, 229 + contused, 218, 223 + drainage of, 222 + by electricity, 239 + by explosives, 231 + by firearms, 225, 227, 230 + incised, 221 + infection of, 107 + lacerated, 223 + open method of treating, 247, 248 + pistol-shot, 226 + punctured, 222 + shell, 231 + treatment, 241 + in warfare, 225, 230 + + Wrist, drop-, 365 + + Wry-neck, rheumatic, 413 + + + Xanthoma, 188 + + X-rays, burns by, 239 + cancer from, 395 + dermatitis from, 239 + ulcers from, 239 + warts from, 239 + in diagnosis of aneurysm, 304 + arthritis deformans, 530 + bone diseases, 445 + tumours, 485, 491, 496 + tuberculosis, 455 + foreign bodies, 233 + joint tuberculosis, 516 + in treatment of cancer, 208 + lupus, 385 + sarcoma, 201 + tuberculosis, 138 + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Manual of Surgery, by +Alexis Thomson and Alexander Miles + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MANUAL OF SURGERY *** + +***** This file should be named 17921.txt or 17921.zip ***** +This and all associated files of 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: War and Peace + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude + +Release Date: April, 2001 [EBook #2600] +[This file was first posted on October 7, 2003] +[Date last Updated: May 21, 2006] +[Most recently updated on May 07, 2007] + +Edition: 12 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, WAR AND PEACE *** + + + + + +War and Peace + +by Leo Tolstoy/Tolstoi + + + + + +BOOK ONE: 1805 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the +Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don't tell me that this means war, +if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by +that Antichrist--I really believe he is Antichrist--I will have +nothing more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer +my 'faithful slave,' as you call yourself! But how do you do? I see +I have frightened you--sit down and tell me all the news." + +It was in July, 1805, and the speaker was the well-known Anna +Pavlovna Scherer, maid of honor and favorite of the Empress Marya +Fedorovna. With these words she greeted Prince Vasili Kuragin, a man +of high rank and importance, who was the first to arrive at her +reception. Anna Pavlovna had had a cough for some days. She was, as +she said, suffering from la grippe; grippe being then a new word in +St. Petersburg, used only by the elite. + +All her invitations without exception, written in French, and +delivered by a scarlet-liveried footman that morning, ran as follows: + +"If you have nothing better to do, Count [or Prince], and if the +prospect of spending an evening with a poor invalid is not too +terrible, I shall be very charmed to see you tonight between 7 and +10--Annette Scherer." + +"Heavens! what a virulent attack!" replied the prince, not in the +least disconcerted by this reception. He had just entered, wearing +an embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had +stars on his breast and a serene expression on his flat face. He spoke +in that refined French in which our grandfathers not only spoke but +thought, and with the gentle, patronizing intonation natural to a +man of importance who had grown old in society and at court. He went +up to Anna Pavlovna, kissed her hand, presenting to her his bald, +scented, and shining head, and complacently seated himself on the +sofa. + +"First of all, dear friend, tell me how you are. Set your friend's +mind at rest," said he without altering his tone, beneath the +politeness and affected sympathy of which indifference and even +irony could be discerned. + +"Can one be well while suffering morally? Can one be calm in times +like these if one has any feeling?" said Anna Pavlovna. "You are +staying the whole evening, I hope?" + +"And the fete at the English ambassador's? Today is Wednesday. I +must put in an appearance there," said the prince. "My daughter is +coming for me to take me there." + +"I thought today's fete had been canceled. I confess all these +festivities and fireworks are becoming wearisome." + +"If they had known that you wished it, the entertainment would +have been put off," said the prince, who, like a wound-up clock, by +force of habit said things he did not even wish to be believed. + +"Don't tease! Well, and what has been decided about Novosiltsev's +dispatch? You know everything." + +"What can one say about it?" replied the prince in a cold, +listless tone. "What has been decided? They have decided that +Buonaparte has burnt his boats, and I believe that we are ready to +burn ours." + +Prince Vasili always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating a +stale part. Anna Pavlovna Scherer on the contrary, despite her forty +years, overflowed with animation and impulsiveness. To be an +enthusiast had become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she +did not feel like it, she became enthusiastic in order not to +disappoint the expectations of those who knew her. The subdued smile +which, though it did not suit her faded features, always played +round her lips expressed, as in a spoiled child, a continual +consciousness of her charming defect, which she neither wished, nor +could, nor considered it necessary, to correct. + +In the midst of a conversation on political matters Anna Pavlovna +burst out: + +"Oh, don't speak to me of Austria. Perhaps I don't understand +things, but Austria never has wished, and does not wish, for war. +She is betraying us! Russia alone must save Europe. Our gracious +sovereign recognizes his high vocation and will be true to it. That is +the one thing I have faith in! Our good and wonderful sovereign has to +perform the noblest role on earth, and he is so virtuous and noble +that God will not forsake him. He will fulfill his vocation and +crush the hydra of revolution, which has become more terrible than +ever in the person of this murderer and villain! We alone must +avenge the blood of the just one.... Whom, I ask you, can we rely +on?... England with her commercial spirit will not and cannot +understand the Emperor Alexander's loftiness of soul. She has +refused to evacuate Malta. She wanted to find, and still seeks, some +secret motive in our actions. What answer did Novosiltsev get? None. +The English have not understood and cannot understand the +self-abnegation of our Emperor who wants nothing for himself, but only +desires the good of mankind. And what have they promised? Nothing! And +what little they have promised they will not perform! Prussia has +always declared that Buonaparte is invincible, and that all Europe +is powerless before him.... And I don't believe a word that Hardenburg +says, or Haugwitz either. This famous Prussian neutrality is just a +trap. I have faith only in God and the lofty destiny of our adored +monarch. He will save Europe!" + +She suddenly paused, smiling at her own impetuosity. + +"I think," said the prince with a smile, "that if you had been +sent instead of our dear Wintzingerode you would have captured the +King of Prussia's consent by assault. You are so eloquent. Will you +give me a cup of tea?" + +"In a moment. A propos," she added, becoming calm again, "I am +expecting two very interesting men tonight, le Vicomte de Mortemart, +who is connected with the Montmorencys through the Rohans, one of +the best French families. He is one of the genuine emigres, the good +ones. And also the Abbe Morio. Do you know that profound thinker? He +has been received by the Emperor. Had you heard?" + +"I shall be delighted to meet them," said the prince. "But tell me," +he added with studied carelessness as if it had only just occurred +to him, though the question he was about to ask was the chief motive +of his visit, "is it true that the Dowager Empress wants Baron Funke +to be appointed first secretary at Vienna? The baron by all accounts +is a poor creature." + +Prince Vasili wished to obtain this post for his son, but others +were trying through the Dowager Empress Marya Fedorovna to secure it +for the baron. + +Anna Pavlovna almost closed her eyes to indicate that neither she +nor anyone else had a right to criticize what the Empress desired or +was pleased with. + +"Baron Funke has been recommended to the Dowager Empress by her +sister," was all she said, in a dry and mournful tone. + +As she named the Empress, Anna Pavlovna's face suddenly assumed an +expression of profound and sincere devotion and respect mingled with +sadness, and this occurred every time she mentioned her illustrious +patroness. She added that Her Majesty had deigned to show Baron +Funke beaucoup d'estime, and again her face clouded over with sadness. + +The prince was silent and looked indifferent. But, with the +womanly and courtierlike quickness and tact habitual to her, Anna +Pavlovna wished both to rebuke him (for daring to speak he had done of +a man recommended to the Empress) and at the same time to console him, +so she said: + +"Now about your family. Do you know that since your daughter came +out everyone has been enraptured by her? They say she is amazingly +beautiful." + +The prince bowed to signify his respect and gratitude. + +"I often think," she continued after a short pause, drawing nearer +to the prince and smiling amiably at him as if to show that +political and social topics were ended and the time had come for +intimate conversation--"I often think how unfairly sometimes the +joys of life are distributed. Why has fate given you two such splendid +children? I don't speak of Anatole, your youngest. I don't like +him," she added in a tone admitting of no rejoinder and raising her +eyebrows. "Two such charming children. And really you appreciate +them less than anyone, and so you don't deserve to have them." + +And she smiled her ecstatic smile. + +"I can't help it," said the prince. "Lavater would have said I +lack the bump of paternity." + +"Don't joke; I mean to have a serious talk with you. Do you know I +am dissatisfied with your younger son? Between ourselves" (and her +face assumed its melancholy expression), "he was mentioned at Her +Majesty's and you were pitied...." + +The prince answered nothing, but she looked at him significantly, +awaiting a reply. He frowned. + +"What would you have me do?" he said at last. "You know I did all +a father could for their education, and they have both turned out +fools. Hippolyte is at least a quiet fool, but Anatole is an active +one. That is the only difference between them." He said this smiling +in a way more natural and animated than usual, so that the wrinkles +round his mouth very clearly revealed something unexpectedly coarse +and unpleasant. + +"And why are children born to such men as you? If you were not a +father there would be nothing I could reproach you with," said Anna +Pavlovna, looking up pensively. + +"I am your faithful slave and to you alone I can confess that my +children are the bane of my life. It is the cross I have to bear. That +is how I explain it to myself. It can't be helped!" + +He said no more, but expressed his resignation to cruel fate by a +gesture. Anna Pavlovna meditated. + +"Have you never thought of marrying your prodigal son Anatole?" +she asked. "They say old maids have a mania for matchmaking, and +though I don't feel that weakness in myself as yet, I know a little +person who is very unhappy with her father. She is a relation of +yours, Princess Mary Bolkonskaya." + +Prince Vasili did not reply, though, with the quickness of memory +and perception befitting a man of the world, he indicated by a +movement of the head that he was considering this information. + +"Do you know," he said at last, evidently unable to check the sad +current of his thoughts, "that Anatole is costing me forty thousand +rubles a year? And," he went on after a pause, "what will it be in +five years, if he goes on like this?" Presently he added: "That's what +we fathers have to put up with.... Is this princess of yours rich?" + +"Her father is very rich and stingy. He lives in the country. He +is the well-known Prince Bolkonski who had to retire from the army +under the late Emperor, and was nicknamed 'the King of Prussia.' He is +very clever but eccentric, and a bore. The poor girl is very +unhappy. She has a brother; I think you know him, he married Lise +Meinen lately. He is an aide-de-camp of Kutuzov's and will be here +tonight." + +"Listen, dear Annette," said the prince, suddenly taking Anna +Pavlovna's hand and for some reason drawing it downwards. "Arrange +that affair for me and I shall always be your most devoted slave-slafe +with an f, as a village elder of mine writes in his reports. She is +rich and of good family and that's all I want." + +And with the familiarity and easy grace peculiar to him, he raised +the maid of honor's hand to his lips, kissed it, and swung it to and +fro as he lay back in his armchair, looking in another direction. + +"Attendez," said Anna Pavlovna, reflecting, "I'll speak to Lise, +young Bolkonski's wife, this very evening, and perhaps the thing can +be arranged. It shall be on your family's behalf that I'll start my +apprenticeship as old maid." + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Anna Pavlovna's drawing room was gradually filling. The highest +Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age +and character but alike in the social circle to which they belonged. +Prince Vasili's daughter, the beautiful Helene, came to take her +father to the ambassador's entertainment; she wore a ball dress and +her badge as maid of honor. The youthful little Princess +Bolkonskaya, known as la femme la plus seduisante de Petersbourg,* was +also there. She had been married during the previous winter, and being +pregnant did not go to any large gatherings, but only to small +receptions. Prince Vasili's son, Hippolyte, had come with Mortemart, +whom he introduced. The Abbe Morio and many others had also come. + + +*The most fascinating woman in Petersburg. + + +To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, "You have not yet seen my +aunt," or "You do not know my aunt?" and very gravely conducted him or +her to a little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbon in her cap, who +had come sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to +arrive; and slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to her aunt, Anna +Pavlovna mentioned each one's name and then left them. + +Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt whom +not one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of +them cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful +and solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of +them in the same words, about their health and her own, and the health +of Her Majesty, "who, thank God, was better today." And each +visitor, though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left +the old woman with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious +duty and did not return to her the whole evening. + +The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a +gold-embroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a +delicate dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her +teeth, but it lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming +when she occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip. As is always +the case with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect--the shortness +of her upper lip and her half-open mouth--seemed to be her own special +and peculiar form of beauty. Everyone brightened at the sight of +this pretty young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life +and health, and carrying her burden so lightly. Old men and dull +dispirited young ones who looked at her, after being in her company +and talking to her a little while, felt as if they too were +becoming, like her, full of life and health. All who talked to her, +and at each word saw her bright smile and the constant gleam of her +white teeth, thought that they were in a specially amiable mood that +day. + +The little princess went round the table with quick, short, +swaying steps, her workbag on her arm, and gaily spreading out her +dress sat down on a sofa near the silver samovar, as if all she was +doing was a pleasure to herself and to all around her. "I have brought +my work," said she in French, displaying her bag and addressing all +present. "Mind, Annette, I hope you have not played a wicked trick +on me," she added, turning to her hostess. "You wrote that it was to +be quite a small reception, and just see how badly I am dressed." +And she spread out her arms to show her short-waisted, lace-trimmed, +dainty gray dress, girdled with a broad ribbon just below the breast. + +"Soyez tranquille, Lise, you will always be prettier than anyone +else," replied Anna Pavlovna. + +"You know," said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in +French, turning to a general, "my husband is deserting me? He is going +to get himself killed. Tell me what this wretched war is for?" she +added, addressing Prince Vasili, and without waiting for an answer she +turned to speak to his daughter, the beautiful Helene. + +"What a delightful woman this little princess is!" said Prince +Vasili to Anna Pavlovna. + +One of the next arrivals was a stout, heavily built young man with +close-cropped hair, spectacles, the light-colored breeches fashionable +at that time, a very high ruffle, and a brown dress coat. This stout +young man was an illegitimate son of Count Bezukhov, a well-known +grandee of Catherine's time who now lay dying in Moscow. The young man +had not yet entered either the military or civil service, as he had +only just returned from abroad where he had been educated, and this +was his first appearance in society. Anna Pavlovna greeted him with +the nod she accorded to the lowest hierarchy in her drawing room. +But in spite of this lowest-grade greeting, a look of anxiety and +fear, as at the sight of something too large and unsuited to the +place, came over her face when she saw Pierre enter. Though he was +certainly rather bigger than the other men in the room, her anxiety +could only have reference to the clever though shy, but observant +and natural, expression which distinguished him from everyone else +in that drawing room. + +"It is very good of you, Monsieur Pierre, to come and visit a poor +invalid," said Anna Pavlovna, exchanging an alarmed glance with her +aunt as she conducted him to her. + +Pierre murmured something unintelligible, and continued to look +round as if in search of something. On his way to the aunt he bowed to +the little princess with a pleased smile, as to an intimate +acquaintance. + +Anna Pavlovna's alarm was justified, for Pierre turned away from the +aunt without waiting to hear her speech about Her Majesty's health. +Anna Pavlovna in dismay detained him with the words: "Do you know +the Abbe Morio? He is a most interesting man." + +"Yes, I have heard of his scheme for perpetual peace, and it is very +interesting but hardly feasible." + +"You think so?" rejoined Anna Pavlovna in order to say something and +get away to attend to her duties as hostess. But Pierre now +committed a reverse act of impoliteness. First he had left a lady +before she had finished speaking to him, and now he continued to speak +to another who wished to get away. With his head bent, and his big +feet spread apart, he began explaining his reasons for thinking the +abbe's plan chimerical. + +"We will talk of it later," said Anna Pavlovna with a smile. + +And having got rid of this young man who did not know how to behave, +she resumed her duties as hostess and continued to listen and watch, +ready to help at any point where the conversation might happen to +flag. As the foreman of a spinning mill, when he has set the hands +to work, goes round and notices here a spindle that has stopped or +there one that creaks or makes more noise than it should, and +hastens to check the machine or set it in proper motion, so Anna +Pavlovna moved about her drawing room, approaching now a silent, now a +too-noisy group, and by a word or slight rearrangement kept the +conversational machine in steady, proper, and regular motion. But amid +these cares her anxiety about Pierre was evident. She kept an +anxious watch on him when he approached the group round Mortemart to +listen to what was being said there, and again when he passed to +another group whose center was the abbe. + +Pierre had been educated abroad, and this reception at Anna +Pavlovna's was the first he had attended in Russia. He knew that all +the intellectual lights of Petersburg were gathered there and, like +a child in a toyshop, did not know which way to look, afraid of +missing any clever conversation that was to be heard. Seeing the +self-confident and refined expression on the faces of those present he +was always expecting to hear something very profound. At last he +came up to Morio. Here the conversation seemed interesting and he +stood waiting for an opportunity to express his own views, as young +people are fond of doing. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Anna Pavlovna's reception was in full swing. The spindles hummed +steadily and ceaselessly on all sides. With the exception of the aunt, +beside whom sat only one elderly lady, who with her thin careworn face +was rather out of place in this brilliant society, the whole company +had settled into three groups. One, chiefly masculine, had formed +round the abbe. Another, of young people, was grouped round the +beautiful Princess Helene, Prince Vasili's daughter, and the little +Princess Bolkonskaya, very pretty and rosy, though rather too plump +for her age. The third group was gathered round Mortemart and Anna +Pavlovna. + +The vicomte was a nice-looking young man with soft features and +polished manners, who evidently considered himself a celebrity but out +of politeness modestly placed himself at the disposal of the circle in +which he found himself. Anna Pavlovna was obviously serving him up +as a treat to her guests. As a clever maitre d'hotel serves up as a +specially choice delicacy a piece of meat that no one who had seen +it in the kitchen would have cared to eat, so Anna Pavlovna served +up to her guests, first the vicomte and then the abbe, as peculiarly +choice morsels. The group about Mortemart immediately began discussing +the murder of the Duc d'Enghien. The vicomte said that the Duc +d'Enghien had perished by his own magnanimity, and that there were +particular reasons for Buonaparte's hatred of him. + +"Ah, yes! Do tell us all about it, Vicomte," said Anna Pavlovna, +with a pleasant feeling that there was something a la Louis XV in +the sound of that sentence: "Contez nous cela, Vicomte." + +The vicomte bowed and smiled courteously in token of his willingness +to comply. Anna Pavlovna arranged a group round him, inviting everyone +to listen to his tale. + +"The vicomte knew the duc personally," whispered Anna Pavlovna to of +the guests. "The vicomte is a wonderful raconteur," said she to +another. "How evidently he belongs to the best society," said she to a +third; and the vicomte was served up to the company in the choicest +and most advantageous style, like a well-garnished joint of roast beef +on a hot dish. + +The vicomte wished to begin his story and gave a subtle smile. + +"Come over here, Helene, dear," said Anna Pavlovna to the +beautiful young princess who was sitting some way off, the center of +another group. + +The princess smiled. She rose with the same unchanging smile with +which she had first entered the room--the smile of a perfectly +beautiful woman. With a slight rustle of her white dress trimmed +with moss and ivy, with a gleam of white shoulders, glossy hair, and +sparkling diamonds, she passed between the men who made way for her, +not looking at any of them but smiling on all, as if graciously +allowing each the privilege of admiring her beautiful figure and +shapely shoulders, back, and bosom--which in the fashion of those days +were very much exposed--and she seemed to bring the glamour of a +ballroom with her as she moved toward Anna Pavlovna. Helene was so +lovely that not only did she not show any trace of coquetry, but on +the contrary she even appeared shy of her unquestionable and all too +victorious beauty. She seemed to wish, but to be unable, to diminish +its effect. + +"How lovely!" said everyone who saw her; and the vicomte lifted +his shoulders and dropped his eyes as if startled by something +extraordinary when she took her seat opposite and beamed upon him also +with her unchanging smile. + +"Madame, I doubt my ability before such an audience," said he, +smilingly inclining his head. + +The princess rested her bare round arm on a little table and +considered a reply unnecessary. She smilingly waited. All the time the +story was being told she sat upright, glancing now at her beautiful +round arm, altered in shape by its pressure on the table, now at her +still more beautiful bosom, on which she readjusted a diamond +necklace. From time to time she smoothed the folds of her dress, and +whenever the story produced an effect she glanced at Anna Pavlovna, at +once adopted just the expression she saw on the maid of honor's +face, and again relapsed into her radiant smile. + +The little princess had also left the tea table and followed Helene. + +"Wait a moment, I'll get my work.... Now then, what are you thinking +of?" she went on, turning to Prince Hippolyte. "Fetch me my workbag." + +There was a general movement as the princess, smiling and talking +merrily to everyone at once, sat down and gaily arranged herself in +her seat. + +"Now I am all right," she said, and asking the vicomte to begin, she +took up her work. + +Prince Hippolyte, having brought the workbag, joined the circle +and moving a chair close to hers seated himself beside her. + +Le charmant Hippolyte was surprising by his extraordinary +resemblance to his beautiful sister, but yet more by the fact that +in spite of this resemblance he was exceedingly ugly. His features +were like his sister's, but while in her case everything was lit up by +a joyous, self-satisfied, youthful, and constant smile of animation, +and by the wonderful classic beauty of her figure, his face on the +contrary was dulled by imbecility and a constant expression of +sullen self-confidence, while his body was thin and weak. His eyes, +nose, and mouth all seemed puckered into a vacant, wearied grimace, +and his arms and legs always fell into unnatural positions. + +"It's not going to be a ghost story?" said he, sitting down beside +the princess and hastily adjusting his lorgnette, as if without this +instrument he could not begin to speak. + +"Why no, my dear fellow," said the astonished narrator, shrugging +his shoulders. + +"Because I hate ghost stories," said Prince Hippolyte in a tone +which showed that he only understood the meaning of his words after he +had uttered them. + +He spoke with such self-confidence that his hearers could not be +sure whether what he said was very witty or very stupid. He was +dressed in a dark-green dress coat, knee breeches of the color of +cuisse de nymphe effrayee, as he called it, shoes, and silk stockings. + +The vicomte told his tale very neatly. It was an anecdote, then +current, to the effect that the Duc d'Enghien had gone secretly to +Paris to visit Mademoiselle George; that at her house he came upon +Bonaparte, who also enjoyed the famous actress' favors, and that in +his presence Napoleon happened to fall into one of the fainting fits +to which he was subject, and was thus at the duc's mercy. The latter +spared him, and this magnanimity Bonaparte subsequently repaid by +death. + +The story was very pretty and interesting, especially at the point +where the rivals suddenly recognized one another; and the ladies +looked agitated. + +"Charming!" said Anna Pavlovna with an inquiring glance at the +little princess. + +"Charming!" whispered the little princess, sticking the needle +into her work as if to testify that the interest and fascination of +the story prevented her from going on with it. + +The vicomte appreciated this silent praise and smiling gratefully +prepared to continue, but just then Anna Pavlovna, who had kept a +watchful eye on the young man who so alarmed her, noticed that he +was talking too loudly and vehemently with the abbe, so she hurried to +the rescue. Pierre had managed to start a conversation with the abbe +about the balance of power, and the latter, evidently interested by +the young man's simple-minded eagerness, was explaining his pet +theory. Both were talking and listening too eagerly and too naturally, +which was why Anna Pavlovna disapproved. + +"The means are... the balance of power in Europe and the rights of +the people," the abbe was saying. "It is only necessary for one +powerful nation like Russia--barbaric as she is said to be--to place +herself disinterestedly at the head of an alliance having for its +object the maintenance of the balance of power of Europe, and it would +save the world!" + +"But how are you to get that balance?" Pierre was beginning. + +At that moment Anna Pavlovna came up and, looking severely at +Pierre, asked the Italian how he stood Russian climate. The +Italian's face instantly changed and assumed an offensively +affected, sugary expression, evidently habitual to him when conversing +with women. + +"I am so enchanted by the brilliancy of the wit and culture of the +society, more especially of the feminine society, in which I have +had the honor of being received, that I have not yet had time to think +of the climate," said he. + +Not letting the abbe and Pierre escape, Anna Pavlovna, the more +conveniently to keep them under observation, brought them into the +larger circle. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Just then another visitor entered the drawing room: Prince Andrew +Bolkonski, the little princess' husband. He was a very handsome +young man, of medium height, with firm, clearcut features. +Everything about him, from his weary, bored expression to his quiet, +measured step, offered a most striking contrast to his quiet, little +wife. It was evident that he not only knew everyone in the drawing +room, but had found them to be so tiresome that it wearied him to look +at or listen to them. And among all these faces that he found so +tedious, none seemed to bore him so much as that of his pretty wife. +He turned away from her with a grimace that distorted his handsome +face, kissed Anna Pavlovna's hand, and screwing up his eyes scanned +the whole company. + +"You are off to the war, Prince?" said Anna Pavlovna. + +"General Kutuzov," said Bolkonski, speaking French and stressing the +last syllable of the general's name like a Frenchman, "has been +pleased to take me as an aide-de-camp...." + +"And Lise, your wife?" + +"She will go to the country." + +"Are you not ashamed to deprive us of your charming wife?" + +"Andre," said his wife, addressing her husband in the same +coquettish manner in which she spoke to other men, "the vicomte has +been telling us such a tale about Mademoiselle George and Buonaparte!" + +Prince Andrew screwed up his eyes and turned away. Pierre, who +from the moment Prince Andrew entered the room had watched him with +glad, affectionate eyes, now came up and took his arm. Before he +looked round Prince Andrew frowned again, expressing his annoyance +with whoever was touching his arm, but when he saw Pierre's beaming +face he gave him an unexpectedly kind and pleasant smile. + +"There now!... So you, too, are in the great world?" said he to +Pierre. + +"I knew you would be here," replied Pierre. "I will come to supper +with you. May I?" he added in a low voice so as not to disturb the +vicomte who was continuing his story. + +"No, impossible!" said Prince Andrew, laughing and pressing Pierre's +hand to show that there was no need to ask the question. He wished +to say something more, but at that moment Prince Vasili and his +daughter got up to go and the two young men rose to let them pass. + +"You must excuse me, dear Vicomte," said Prince Vasili to the +Frenchman, holding him down by the sleeve in a friendly way to prevent +his rising. "This unfortunate fete at the ambassador's deprives me +of a pleasure, and obliges me to interrupt you. I am very sorry to +leave your enchanting party," said he, turning to Anna Pavlovna. + +His daughter, Princess Helene, passed between the chairs, lightly +holding up the folds of her dress, and the smile shone still more +radiantly on her beautiful face. Pierre gazed at her with rapturous, +almost frightened, eyes as she passed him. + +"Very lovely," said Prince Andrew. + +"Very," said Pierre. + +In passing Prince Vasili seized Pierre's hand and said to Anna +Pavlovna: "Educate this bear for me! He has been staying with me a +whole month and this is the first time I have seen him in society. +Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the society of clever +women." + +Anna Pavlovna smiled and promised to take Pierre in hand. She knew +his father to be a connection of Prince Vasili's. The elderly lady who +had been sitting with the old aunt rose hurriedly and overtook +Prince Vasili in the anteroom. All the affectation of interest she had +assumed had left her kindly and tear-worn face and it now expressed +only anxiety and fear. + +"How about my son Boris, Prince?" said she, hurrying after him +into the anteroom. "I can't remain any longer in Petersburg. Tell me +what news I may take back to my poor boy." + +Although Prince Vasili listened reluctantly and not very politely to +the elderly lady, even betraying some impatience, she gave him an +ingratiating and appealing smile, and took his hand that he might +not go away. + +"What would it cost you to say a word to the Emperor, and then he +would be transferred to the Guards at once?" said she. + +"Believe me, Princess, I am ready to do all I can," answered +Prince Vasili, "but it is difficult for me to ask the Emperor. I +should advise you to appeal to Rumyantsev through Prince Golitsyn. +That would be the best way." + +The elderly lady was a Princess Drubetskaya, belonging to one of the +best families in Russia, but she was poor, and having long been out of +society had lost her former influential connections. She had now +come to Petersburg to procure an appointment in the Guards for her +only son. It was, in fact, solely to meet Prince Vasili that she had +obtained an invitation to Anna Pavlovna's reception and had sat +listening to the vicomte's story. Prince Vasili's words frightened +her, an embittered look clouded her once handsome face, but only for a +moment; then she smiled again and clutched Prince Vasili's arm more +tightly. + +"Listen to me, Prince," said she. "I have never yet asked you for +anything and I never will again, nor have I ever reminded you of my +father's friendship for you; but now I entreat you for God's sake to +do this for my son--and I shall always regard you as a benefactor," +she added hurriedly. "No, don't be angry, but promise! I have asked +Golitsyn and he has refused. Be the kindhearted man you always +were," she said, trying to smile though tears were in her eyes. + +"Papa, we shall be late," said Princess Helene, turning her +beautiful head and looking over her classically molded shoulder as she +stood waiting by the door. + +Influence in society, however, is a capital which has to be +economized if it is to last. Prince Vasili knew this, and having +once realized that if he asked on behalf of all who begged of him, +he would soon be unable to ask for himself, he became chary of using +his influence. But in Princess Drubetskaya's case he felt, after her +second appeal, something like qualms of conscience. She had reminded +him of what was quite true; he had been indebted to her father for the +first steps in his career. Moreover, he could see by her manners +that she was one of those women--mostly mothers--who, having once made +up their minds, will not rest until they have gained their end, and +are prepared if necessary to go on insisting day after day and hour +after hour, and even to make scenes. This last consideration moved +him. + +"My dear Anna Mikhaylovna," said he with his usual familiarity and +weariness of tone, "it is almost impossible for me to do what you ask; +but to prove my devotion to you and how I respect your father's +memory, I will do the impossible--your son shall be transferred to the +Guards. Here is my hand on it. Are you satisfied?" + +"My dear benefactor! This is what I expected from you--I knew your +kindness!" He turned to go. + +"Wait--just a word! When he has been transferred to the Guards..." +she faltered. "You are on good terms with Michael Ilarionovich +Kutuzov... recommend Boris to him as adjutant! Then I shall be at +rest, and then..." + +Prince Vasili smiled. + +"No, I won't promise that. You don't know how Kutuzov is pestered +since his appointment as Commander in Chief. He told me himself that +all the Moscow ladies have conspired to give him all their sons as +adjutants." + +"No, but do promise! I won't let you go! My dear benefactor..." + +"Papa," said his beautiful daughter in the same tone as before, +"we shall be late." + +"Well, au revoir! Good-by! You hear her?" + +"Then tomorrow you will speak to the Emperor?" + +"Certainly; but about Kutuzov, I don't promise." + +"Do promise, do promise, Vasili!" cried Anna Mikhaylovna as he went, +with the smile of a coquettish girl, which at one time probably came +naturally to her, but was now very ill-suited to her careworn face. + +Apparently she had forgotten her age and by force of habit +employed all the old feminine arts. But as soon as the prince had gone +her face resumed its former cold, artificial expression. She +returned to the group where the vicomte was still talking, and again +pretended to listen, while waiting till it would be time to leave. Her +task was accomplished. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +"And what do you think of this latest comedy, the coronation at +Milan?" asked Anna Pavlovna, "and of the comedy of the people of Genoa +and Lucca laying their petitions before Monsieur Buonaparte, and +Monsieur Buonaparte sitting on a throne and granting the petitions +of the nations? Adorable! It is enough to make one's head whirl! It is +as if the whole world had gone crazy." + +Prince Andrew looked Anna Pavlovna straight in the face with a +sarcastic smile. + +"'Dieu me la donne, gare a qui la touche!'* They say he was very +fine when he said that," he remarked, repeating the words in +Italian: "'Dio mi l'ha dato. Guai a chi la tocchi!'" + + +*God has given it to me, let him who touches it beware! + + +"I hope this will prove the last drop that will make the glass run +over," Anna Pavlovna continued. "The sovereigns will not be able to +endure this man who is a menace to everything." + +"The sovereigns? I do not speak of Russia," said the vicomte, polite +but hopeless: "The sovereigns, madame... What have they done for Louis +XVII, for the Queen, or for Madame Elizabeth? Nothing!" and he +became more animated. "And believe me, they are reaping the reward +of their betrayal of the Bourbon cause. The sovereigns! Why, they +are sending ambassadors to compliment the usurper." + +And sighing disdainfully, he again changed his position. + +Prince Hippolyte, who had been gazing at the vicomte for some time +through his lorgnette, suddenly turned completely round toward the +little princess, and having asked for a needle began tracing the Conde +coat of arms on the table. He explained this to her with as much +gravity as if she had asked him to do it. + +"Baton de gueules, engrele de gueules d'azur--maison Conde," said +he. + +The princess listened, smiling. + +"If Buonaparte remains on the throne of France a year longer," the +vicomte continued, with the air of a man who, in a matter with which +he is better acquainted than anyone else, does not listen to others +but follows the current of his own thoughts, "things will have gone +too far. By intrigues, violence, exile, and executions, French +society--I mean good French society--will have been forever destroyed, +and then..." + +He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands. Pierre wished to +make a remark, for the conversation interested him, but Anna Pavlovna, +who had him under observation, interrupted: + +"The Emperor Alexander," said she, with the melancholy which +always accompanied any reference of hers to the Imperial family, +"has declared that he will leave it to the French people themselves to +choose their own form of government; and I believe that once free from +the usurper, the whole nation will certainly throw itself into the +arms of its rightful king," she concluded, trying to be amiable to the +royalist emigrant. + +"That is doubtful," said Prince Andrew. "Monsieur le Vicomte quite +rightly supposes that matters have already gone too far. I think it +will be difficult to return to the old regime." + +"From what I have heard," said Pierre, blushing and breaking into +the conversation, "almost all the aristocracy has already gone over to +Bonaparte's side." + +"It is the Buonapartists who say that," replied the vicomte +without looking at Pierre. "At the present time it is difficult to +know the real state of French public opinion." + +"Bonaparte has said so," remarked Prince Andrew with a sarcastic +smile. + +It was evident that he did not like the vicomte and was aiming his +remarks at him, though without looking at him. + +"'I showed them the path to glory, but they did not follow it,'" +Prince Andrew continued after a short silence, again quoting +Napoleon's words. "'I opened my antechambers and they crowded in.' I +do not know how far he was justified in saying so." + +"Not in the least," replied the vicomte. "After the murder of the +duc even the most partial ceased to regard him as a hero. If to some +people," he went on, turning to Anna Pavlovna, "he ever was a hero, +after the murder of the duc there was one martyr more in heaven and +one hero less on earth." + +Before Anna Pavlovna and the others had time to smile their +appreciation of the vicomte's epigram, Pierre again broke into the +conversation, and though Anna Pavlovna felt sure he would say +something inappropriate, she was unable to stop him. + +"The execution of the Duc d'Enghien," declared Monsieur Pierre, "was +a political necessity, and it seems to me that Napoleon showed +greatness of soul by not fearing to take on himself the whole +responsibility of that deed." + +"Dieu! Mon Dieu!" muttered Anna Pavlovna in a terrified whisper. + +"What, Monsieur Pierre... Do you consider that assassination shows +greatness of soul?" said the little princess, smiling and drawing +her work nearer to her. + +"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed several voices. + +"Capital!" said Prince Hippolyte in English, and began slapping +his knee with the palm of his hand. + +The vicomte merely shrugged his shoulders. Pierre looked solemnly at +his audience over his spectacles and continued. + +"I say so," he continued desperately, "because the Bourbons fled +from the Revolution leaving the people to anarchy, and Napoleon +alone understood the Revolution and quelled it, and so for the general +good, he could not stop short for the sake of one man's life." + +"Won't you come over to the other table?" suggested Anna Pavlovna. + +But Pierre continued his speech without heeding her. + +"No," cried he, becoming more and more eager, "Napoleon is great +because he rose superior to the Revolution, suppressed its abuses, +preserved all that was good in it--equality of citizenship and freedom +of speech and of the press--and only for that reason did he obtain +power." + +"Yes, if having obtained power, without availing himself of it to +commit murder he had restored it to the rightful king, I should have +called him a great man," remarked the vicomte. + +"He could not do that. The people only gave him power that he +might rid them of the Bourbons and because they saw that he was a +great man. The Revolution was a grand thing!" continued Monsieur +Pierre, betraying by this desperate and provocative proposition his +extreme youth and his wish to express all that was in his mind. + +"What? Revolution and regicide a grand thing?... Well, after that... +But won't you come to this other table?" repeated Anna Pavlovna. + +"Rousseau's Contrat social," said the vicomte with a tolerant smile. + +"I am not speaking of regicide, I am speaking about ideas." + +"Yes: ideas of robbery, murder, and regicide," again interjected +an ironical voice. + +"Those were extremes, no doubt, but they are not what is most +important. What is important are the rights of man, emancipation +from prejudices, and equality of citizenship, and all these ideas +Napoleon has retained in full force." + +"Liberty and equality," said the vicomte contemptuously, as if at +last deciding seriously to prove to this youth how foolish his words +were, "high-sounding words which have long been discredited. Who +does not love liberty and equality? Even our Saviour preached +liberty and equality. Have people since the Revolution become happier? +On the contrary. We wanted liberty, but Buonaparte has destroyed it." + +Prince Andrew kept looking with an amused smile from Pierre to the +vicomte and from the vicomte to their hostess. In the first moment +of Pierre's outburst Anna Pavlovna, despite her social experience, was +horror-struck. But when she saw that Pierre's sacrilegious words had +not exasperated the vicomte, and had convinced herself that it was +impossible to stop him, she rallied her forces and joined the +vicomte in a vigorous attack on the orator. + +"But, my dear Monsieur Pierre," said she, "how do you explain the +fact of a great man executing a duc--or even an ordinary man who--is +innocent and untried?" + +"I should like," said the vicomte, "to ask how monsieur explains the +18th Brumaire; was not that an imposture? It was a swindle, and not at +all like the conduct of a great man!" + +"And the prisoners he killed in Africa? That was horrible!" said the +little princess, shrugging her shoulders. + +"He's a low fellow, say what you will," remarked Prince Hippolyte. + +Pierre, not knowing whom to answer, looked at them all and smiled. +His smile was unlike the half-smile of other people. When he smiled, +his grave, even rather gloomy, look was instantaneously replaced by +another--a childlike, kindly, even rather silly look, which seemed +to ask forgiveness. + +The vicomte who was meeting him for the first time saw clearly +that this young Jacobin was not so terrible as his words suggested. +All were silent. + +"How do you expect him to answer you all at once?" said Prince +Andrew. "Besides, in the actions of a statesman one has to distinguish +between his acts as a private person, as a general, and as an emperor. +So it seems to me." + +"Yes, yes, of course!" Pierre chimed in, pleased at the arrival of +this reinforcement. + +"One must admit," continued Prince Andrew, "that Napoleon as a man +was great on the bridge of Arcola, and in the hospital at Jaffa +where he gave his hand to the plague-stricken; but... but there are +other acts which it is difficult to justify." + +Prince Andrew, who had evidently wished to tone down the awkwardness +of Pierre's remarks, rose and made a sign to his wife that it was time +to go. + +Suddenly Prince Hippolyte started up making signs to everyone to +attend, and asking them all to be seated began: + +"I was told a charming Moscow story today and must treat you to +it. Excuse me, Vicomte--I must tell it in Russian or the point will be +lost...." And Prince Hippolyte began to tell his story in such Russian +as a Frenchman would speak after spending about a year in Russia. +Everyone waited, so emphatically and eagerly did he demand their +attention to his story. + +"There is in Moscow a lady, une dame, and she is very stingy. She +must have two footmen behind her carriage, and very big ones. That was +her taste. And she had a lady's maid, also big. She said..." + +Here Prince Hippolyte paused, evidently collecting his ideas with +difficulty. + +"She said... Oh yes! She said, 'Girl,' to the maid, 'put on a +livery, get up behind the carriage, and come with me while I make some +calls.'" + +Here Prince Hippolyte spluttered and burst out laughing long +before his audience, which produced an effect unfavorable to the +narrator. Several persons, among them the elderly lady and Anna +Pavlovna, did however smile. + +"She went. Suddenly there was a great wind. The girl lost her hat +and her long hair came down...." Here he could contain himself no +longer and went on, between gasps of laughter: "And the whole world +knew...." + +And so the anecdote ended. Though it was unintelligible why he had +told it, or why it had to be told in Russian, still Anna Pavlovna +and the others appreciated Prince Hippolyte's social tact in so +agreeably ending Pierre's unpleasant and unamiable outburst. After the +anecdote the conversation broke up into insignificant small talk about +the last and next balls, about theatricals, and who would meet whom, +and when and where. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Having thanked Anna Pavlovna for her charming soiree, the guests +began to take their leave. + +Pierre was ungainly. Stout, about the average height, broad, with +huge red hands; he did not know, as the saying is, how to enter a +drawing room and still less how to leave one; that is, how to say +something particularly agreeable before going away. Besides this he +was absent-minded. When he rose to go, he took up instead of his +own, the general's three-cornered hat, and held it, pulling at the +plume, till the general asked him to restore it. All his +absent-mindedness and inability to enter a room and converse in it +was, however, redeemed by his kindly, simple, and modest expression. +Anna Pavlovna turned toward him and, with a Christian mildness that +expressed forgiveness of his indiscretion, nodded and said: "I hope to +see you again, but I also hope you will change your opinions, my +dear Monsieur Pierre." + +When she said this, he did not reply and only bowed, but again +everybody saw his smile, which said nothing, unless perhaps, "Opinions +are opinions, but you see what a capital, good-natured fellow I am." +And everyone, including Anna Pavlovna, felt this. + +Prince Andrew had gone out into the hall, and, turning his shoulders +to the footman who was helping him on with his cloak, listened +indifferently to his wife's chatter with Prince Hippolyte who had also +come into the hall. Prince Hippolyte stood close to the pretty, +pregnant princess, and stared fixedly at her through his eyeglass. + +"Go in, Annette, or you will catch cold," said the little +princess, taking leave of Anna Pavlovna. "It is settled," she added in +a low voice. + +Anna Pavlovna had already managed to speak to Lise about the match +she contemplated between Anatole and the little princess' +sister-in-law. + +"I rely on you, my dear," said Anna Pavlovna, also in a low tone. +"Write to her and let me know how her father looks at the matter. Au +revoir!"--and she left the hall. + +Prince Hippolyte approached the little princess and, bending his +face close to her, began to whisper something. + +Two footmen, the princess' and his own, stood holding a shawl and +a cloak, waiting for the conversation to finish. They listened to +the French sentences which to them were meaningless, with an air of +understanding but not wishing to appear to do so. The princess as +usual spoke smilingly and listened with a laugh. + +"I am very glad I did not go to the ambassador's," said Prince +Hippolyte "-so dull-. It has been a delightful evening, has it not? +Delightful!" + +"They say the ball will be very good," replied the princess, drawing +up her downy little lip. "All the pretty women in society will be +there." + +"Not all, for you will not be there; not all," said Prince Hippolyte +smiling joyfully; and snatching the shawl from the footman, whom he +even pushed aside, he began wrapping it round the princess. Either +from awkwardness or intentionally (no one could have said which) after +the shawl had been adjusted he kept his arm around her for a long +time, as though embracing her. + +Still smiling, she gracefully moved away, turning and glancing at +her husband. Prince Andrew's eyes were closed, so weary and sleepy did +he seem. + +"Are you ready?" he asked his wife, looking past her. + +Prince Hippolyte hurriedly put on his cloak, which in the latest +fashion reached to his very heels, and, stumbling in it, ran out +into the porch following the princess, whom a footman was helping into +the carriage. + +"Princesse, au revoir," cried he, stumbling with his tongue as +well as with his feet. + +The princess, picking up her dress, was taking her seat in the +dark carriage, her husband was adjusting his saber; Prince +Hippolyte, under pretense of helping, was in everyone's way. + +"Allow me, sir," said Prince Andrew in Russian in a cold, +disagreeable tone to Prince Hippolyte who was blocking his path. + +"I am expecting you, Pierre," said the same voice, but gently and +affectionately. + +The postilion started, the carriage wheels rattled. Prince Hippolyte +laughed spasmodically as he stood in the porch waiting for the vicomte +whom he had promised to take home. + +"Well, mon cher," said the vicomte, having seated himself beside +Hippolyte in the carriage, "your little princess is very nice, very +nice indeed, quite French," and he kissed the tips of his fingers. +Hippolyte burst out laughing. + +"Do you know, you are a terrible chap for all your innocent airs," +continued the vicomte. "I pity the poor husband, that little officer +who gives himself the airs of a monarch." + +Hippolyte spluttered again, and amid his laughter said, "And you +were saying that the Russian ladies are not equal to the French? One +has to know how to deal with them." + + +Pierre reaching the house first went into Prince Andrew's study like +one quite at home, and from habit immediately lay down on the sofa, +took from the shelf the first book that came to his hand (it was +Caesar's Commentaries), and resting on his elbow, began reading it +in the middle. + +"What have you done to Mlle Scherer? She will be quite ill now," +said Prince Andrew, as he entered the study, rubbing his small white +hands. + +Pierre turned his whole body, making the sofa creak. He lifted his +eager face to Prince Andrew, smiled, and waved his hand. + +"That abbe is very interesting but he does not see the thing in +the right light.... In my opinion perpetual peace is possible but--I +do not know how to express it... not by a balance of political +power...." + +It was evident that Prince Andrew was not interested in such +abstract conversation. + +"One can't everywhere say all one thinks, mon cher. Well, have you +at last decided on anything? Are you going to be a guardsman or a +diplomatist?" asked Prince Andrew after a momentary silence. + +Pierre sat up on the sofa, with his legs tucked under him. + +"Really, I don't yet know. I don't like either the one or the +other." + +"But you must decide on something! Your father expects it." + +Pierre at the age of ten had been sent abroad with an abbe as tutor, +and had remained away till he was twenty. When he returned to Moscow +his father dismissed the abbe and said to the young man, "Now go to +Petersburg, look round, and choose your profession. I will agree to +anything. Here is a letter to Prince Vasili, and here is money. +Write to me all about it, and I will help you in everything." Pierre +had already been choosing a career for three months, and had not +decided on anything. It was about this choice that Prince Andrew was +speaking. Pierre rubbed his forehead. + +"But he must be a Freemason," said he, referring to the abbe whom he +had met that evening. + +"That is all nonsense." Prince Andrew again interrupted him, "let us +talk business. Have you been to the Horse Guards?" + +"No, I have not; but this is what I have been thinking and wanted to +tell you. There is a war now against Napoleon. If it were a war for +freedom I could understand it and should be the first to enter the +army; but to help England and Austria against the greatest man in +the world is not right." + +Prince Andrew only shrugged his shoulders at Pierre's childish +words. He put on the air of one who finds it impossible to reply to +such nonsense, but it would in fact have been difficult to give any +other answer than the one Prince Andrew gave to this naive question. + +"If no one fought except on his own conviction, there would be no +wars," he said. + +"And that would be splendid," said Pierre. + +Prince Andrew smiled ironically. + +"Very likely it would be splendid, but it will never come about..." + +"Well, why are you going to the war?" asked Pierre. + +"What for? I don't know. I must. Besides that I am going..." He +paused. "I am going because the life I am leading here does not suit +me!" + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The rustle of a woman's dress was heard in the next room. Prince +Andrew shook himself as if waking up, and his face assumed the look it +had had in Anna Pavlovna's drawing room. Pierre removed his feet +from the sofa. The princess came in. She had changed her gown for a +house dress as fresh and elegant as the other. Prince Andrew rose +and politely placed a chair for her. + +"How is it," she began, as usual in French, settling down briskly +and fussily in the easy chair, "how is it Annette never got married? +How stupid you men all are not to have married her! Excuse me for +saying so, but you have no sense about women. What an argumentative +fellow you are, Monsieur Pierre!" + +"And I am still arguing with your husband. I can't understand why he +wants to go to the war," replied Pierre, addressing the princess +with none of the embarrassment so commonly shown by young men in their +intercourse with young women. + +The princess started. Evidently Pierre's words touched her to the +quick. + +"Ah, that is just what I tell him!" said she. "I don't understand +it; I don't in the least understand why men can't live without wars. +How is it that we women don't want anything of the kind, don't need +it? Now you shall judge between us. I always tell him: Here he is +Uncle's aide-de-camp, a most brilliant position. He is so well +known, so much appreciated by everyone. The other day at the +Apraksins' I heard a lady asking, 'Is that the famous Prince +Andrew?' I did indeed." She laughed. "He is so well received +everywhere. He might easily become aide-de-camp to the Emperor. You +know the Emperor spoke to him most graciously. Annette and I were +speaking of how to arrange it. What do you think?" + +Pierre looked at his friend and, noticing that he did not like the +conversation, gave no reply. + +"When are you starting?" he asked. + +"Oh, don't speak of his going, don't! I won't hear it spoken of," +said the princess in the same petulantly playful tone in which she had +spoken to Hippolyte in the drawing room and which was so plainly +ill-suited to the family circle of which Pierre was almost a member. +"Today when I remembered that all these delightful associations must +be broken off... and then you know, Andre..." (she looked +significantly at her husband) "I'm afraid, I'm afraid!" she whispered, +and a shudder ran down her back. + +Her husband looked at her as if surprised to notice that someone +besides Pierre and himself was in the room, and addressed her in a +tone of frigid politeness. + +"What is it you are afraid of, Lise? I don't understand," said he. + +"There, what egotists men all are: all, all egotists! Just for a +whim of his own, goodness only knows why, he leaves me and locks me up +alone in the country." + +"With my father and sister, remember," said Prince Andrew gently. + +"Alone all the same, without my friends.... And he expects me not to +be afraid." + +Her tone was now querulous and her lip drawn up, giving her not a +joyful, but an animal, squirrel-like expression. She paused as if +she felt it indecorous to speak of her pregnancy before Pierre, though +the gist of the matter lay in that. + +"I still can't understand what you are afraid of," said Prince +Andrew slowly, not taking his eyes off his wife. + +The princess blushed, and raised her arms with a gesture of despair. + +"No, Andrew, I must say you have changed. Oh, how you have..." + +"Your doctor tells you to go to bed earlier," said Prince Andrew. +"You had better go." + +The princess said nothing, but suddenly her short downy lip +quivered. Prince Andrew rose, shrugged his shoulders, and walked about +the room. + +Pierre looked over his spectacles with naive surprise, now at him +and now at her, moved as if about to rise too, but changed his mind. + +"Why should I mind Monsieur Pierre being here?" exclaimed the little +princess suddenly, her pretty face all at once distorted by a +tearful grimace. "I have long wanted to ask you, Andrew, why you +have changed so to me? What have I done to you? You are going to the +war and have no pity for me. Why is it?" + +"Lise!" was all Prince Andrew said. But that one word expressed an +entreaty, a threat, and above all conviction that she would herself +regret her words. But she went on hurriedly: + +"You treat me like an invalid or a child. I see it all! Did you +behave like that six months ago?" + +"Lise, I beg you to desist," said Prince Andrew still more +emphatically. + +Pierre, who had been growing more and more agitated as he listened +to all this, rose and approached the princess. He seemed unable to +bear the sight of tears and was ready to cry himself. + +"Calm yourself, Princess! It seems so to you because... I assure you +I myself have experienced... and so... because... No, excuse me! An +outsider is out of place here... No, don't distress yourself... +Good-by!" + +Prince Andrew caught him by the hand. + +"No, wait, Pierre! The princess is too kind to wish to deprive me of +the pleasure of spending the evening with you." + +"No, he thinks only of himself," muttered the princess without +restraining her angry tears. + +"Lise!" said Prince Andrew dryly, raising his voice to the pitch +which indicates that patience is exhausted. + +Suddenly the angry, squirrel-like expression of the princess' pretty +face changed into a winning and piteous look of fear. Her beautiful +eyes glanced askance at her husband's face, and her own assumed the +timid, deprecating expression of a dog when it rapidly but feebly wags +its drooping tail. + +"Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" she muttered, and lifting her dress with one +hand she went up to her husband and kissed him on the forehead. + +"Good night, Lise," said he, rising and courteously kissing her hand +as he would have done to a stranger. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The friends were silent. Neither cared to begin talking. Pierre +continually glanced at Prince Andrew; Prince Andrew rubbed his +forehead with his small hand. + +"Let us go and have supper," he said with a sigh, going to the door. + +They entered the elegant, newly decorated, and luxurious dining +room. Everything from the table napkins to the silver, china, and +glass bore that imprint of newness found in the households of the +newly married. Halfway through supper Prince Andrew leaned his +elbows on the table and, with a look of nervous agitation such as +Pierre had never before seen on his face, began to talk--as one who +has long had something on his mind and suddenly determines to speak +out. + +"Never, never marry, my dear fellow! That's my advice: never marry +till you can say to yourself that you have done all you are capable +of, and until you have ceased to love the woman of your choice and +have seen her plainly as she is, or else you will make a cruel and +irrevocable mistake. Marry when you are old and good for nothing--or +all that is good and noble in you will be lost. It will all be +wasted on trifles. Yes! Yes! Yes! Don't look at me with such surprise. +If you marry expecting anything from yourself in the future, you +will feel at every step that for you all is ended, all is closed +except the drawing room, where you will be ranged side by side with +a court lackey and an idiot!... But what's the good?..." and he +waved his arm. + +Pierre took off his spectacles, which made his face seem different +and the good-natured expression still more apparent, and gazed at +his friend in amazement. + +"My wife," continued Prince Andrew, "is an excellent woman, one of +those rare women with whom a man's honor is safe; but, O God, what +would I not give now to be unmarried! You are the first and only one +to whom I mention this, because I like you." + +As he said this Prince Andrew was less than ever like that Bolkonski +who had lolled in Anna Pavlovna's easy chairs and with half-closed +eyes had uttered French phrases between his teeth. Every muscle of his +thin face was now quivering with nervous excitement; his eyes, in +which the fire of life had seemed extinguished, now flashed with +brilliant light. It was evident that the more lifeless he seemed at +ordinary times, the more impassioned he became in these moments of +almost morbid irritation. + +"You don't understand why I say this," he continued, "but it is +the whole story of life. You talk of Bonaparte and his career," said +he (though Pierre had not mentioned Bonaparte), "but Bonaparte when he +worked went step by step toward his goal. He was free, he had +nothing but his aim to consider, and he reached it. But tie yourself +up with a woman and, like a chained convict, you lose all freedom! And +all you have of hope and strength merely weighs you down and +torments you with regret. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, and +triviality--these are the enchanted circle I cannot escape from. I +am now going to the war, the greatest war there ever was, and I know +nothing and am fit for nothing. I am very amiable and have a caustic +wit," continued Prince Andrew, "and at Anna Pavlovna's they listen +to me. And that stupid set without whom my wife cannot exist, and +those women... If you only knew what those society women are, and +women in general! My father is right. Selfish, vain, stupid, trivial +in everything--that's what women are when you see them in their true +colors! When you meet them in society it seems as if there were +something in them, but there's nothing, nothing, nothing! No, don't +marry, my dear fellow; don't marry!" concluded Prince Andrew. + +"It seems funny to me," said Pierre, "that you, you should +consider yourself incapable and your life a spoiled life. You have +everything before you, everything. And you..." + +He did not finish his sentence, but his tone showed how highly he +thought of his friend and how much he expected of him in the future. + +"How can he talk like that?" thought Pierre. He considered his +friend a model of perfection because Prince Andrew possessed in the +highest degree just the very qualities Pierre lacked, and which +might be best described as strength of will. Pierre was always +astonished at Prince Andrew's calm manner of treating everybody, his +extraordinary memory, his extensive reading (he had read everything, +knew everything, and had an opinion about everything), but above all +at his capacity for work and study. And if Pierre was often struck +by Andrew's lack of capacity for philosophical meditation (to which he +himself was particularly addicted), he regarded even this not as a +defect but as a sign of strength. + +Even in the best, most friendly and simplest relations of life, +praise and commendation are essential, just as grease is necessary +to wheels that they may run smoothly. + +"My part is played out," said Prince Andrew. "What's the use of +talking about me? Let us talk about you," he added after a silence, +smiling at his reassuring thoughts. + +That smile was immediately reflected on Pierre's face. + +"But what is there to say about me?" said Pierre, his face +relaxing into a careless, merry smile. "What am I? An illegitimate +son!" He suddenly blushed crimson, and it was plain that he had made a +great effort to say this. "Without a name and without means... And +it really..." But he did not say what "it really" was. "For the +present I am free and am all right. Only I haven't the least idea what +I am to do; I wanted to consult you seriously." + +Prince Andrew looked kindly at him, yet his glance--friendly and +affectionate as it was--expressed a sense of his own superiority. + +"I am fond of you, especially as you are the one live man among +our whole set. Yes, you're all right! Choose what you will; it's all +the same. You'll be all right anywhere. But look here: give up +visiting those Kuragins and leading that sort of life. It suits you so +badly--all this debauchery, dissipation, and the rest of it!" + +"What would you have, my dear fellow?" answered Pierre, shrugging +his shoulders. "Women, my dear fellow; women!" + +"I don't understand it," replied Prince Andrew. "Women who are comme +il faut, that's a different matter; but the Kuragins' set of women, +'women and wine' I don't understand!" + +Pierre was staying at Prince Vasili Kuragin's and sharing the +dissipated life of his son Anatole, the son whom they were planning to +reform by marrying him to Prince Andrew's sister. + +"Do you know?" said Pierre, as if suddenly struck by a happy +thought, "seriously, I have long been thinking of it.... Leading +such a life I can't decide or think properly about anything. One's +head aches, and one spends all one's money. He asked me for tonight, +but I won't go." + +"You give me your word of honor not to go?" + +"On my honor!" + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It was past one o'clock when Pierre left his friend. It was a +cloudless, northern, summer night. Pierre took an open cab intending +to drive straight home. But the nearer he drew to the house the more +he felt the impossibility of going to sleep on such a night. It was +light enough to see a long way in the deserted street and it seemed +more like morning or evening than night. On the way Pierre +remembered that Anatole Kuragin was expecting the usual set for +cards that evening, after which there was generally a drinking bout, +finishing with visits of a kind Pierre was very fond of. + +"I should like to go to Kuragin's," thought he. + +But he immediately recalled his promise to Prince Andrew not to go +there. Then, as happens to people of weak character, he desired so +passionately once more to enjoy that dissipation he was so +accustomed to that he decided to go. The thought immediately +occurred to him that his promise to Prince Andrew was of no account, +because before he gave it he had already promised Prince Anatole to +come to his gathering; "besides," thought he, "all such 'words of +honor' are conventional things with no definite meaning, especially if +one considers that by tomorrow one may be dead, or something so +extraordinary may happen to one that honor and dishonor will be all +the same!" Pierre often indulged in reflections of this sort, +nullifying all his decisions and intentions. He went to Kuragin's. + +Reaching the large house near the Horse Guards' barracks, in which +Anatole lived, Pierre entered the lighted porch, ascended the +stairs, and went in at the open door. There was no one in the +anteroom; empty bottles, cloaks, and overshoes were lying about; there +was a smell of alcohol, and sounds of voices and shouting in the +distance. + +Cards and supper were over, but the visitors had not yet +dispersed. Pierre threw off his cloak and entered the first room, in +which were the remains of supper. A footman, thinking no one saw +him, was drinking on the sly what was left in the glasses. From the +third room came sounds of laughter, the shouting of familiar voices, +the growling of a bear, and general commotion. Some eight or nine +young men were crowding anxiously round an open window. Three others +were romping with a young bear, one pulling him by the chain and +trying to set him at the others. + +"I bet a hundred on Stevens!" shouted one. + +"Mind, no holding on!" cried another. + +"I bet on Dolokhov!" cried a third. "Kuragin, you part our hands." + +"There, leave Bruin alone; here's a bet on." + +"At one draught, or he loses!" shouted a fourth. + +"Jacob, bring a bottle!" shouted the host, a tall, handsome fellow +who stood in the midst of the group, without a coat, and with his fine +linen shirt unfastened in front. "Wait a bit, you fellows.... Here +is Petya! Good man!" cried he, addressing Pierre. + +Another voice, from a man of medium height with clear blue eyes, +particularly striking among all these drunken voices by its sober +ring, cried from the window: "Come here; part the bets!" This was +Dolokhov, an officer of the Semenov regiment, a notorious gambler +and duelist, who was living with Anatole. Pierre smiled, looking about +him merrily. + +"I don't understand. What's it all about?" + +"Wait a bit, he is not drunk yet! A bottle here," said Anatole, +taking a glass from the table he went up to Pierre. + +"First of all you must drink!" + +Pierre drank one glass after another, looking from under his brows +at the tipsy guests who were again crowding round the window, and +listening to their chatter. Anatole kept on refilling Pierre's glass +while explaining that Dolokhov was betting with Stevens, an English +naval officer, that he would drink a bottle of rum sitting on the +outer ledge of the third floor window with his legs hanging out. + +"Go on, you must drink it all," said Anatole, giving Pierre the last +glass, "or I won't let you go!" + +"No, I won't," said Pierre, pushing Anatole aside, and he went up to +the window. + +Dolokhov was holding the Englishman's hand and clearly and +distinctly repeating the terms of the bet, addressing himself +particularly to Anatole and Pierre. + +Dolokhov was of medium height, with curly hair and light-blue +eyes. He was about twenty-five. Like all infantry officers he wore +no mustache, so that his mouth, the most striking feature of his face, +was clearly seen. The lines of that mouth were remarkably finely +curved. The middle of the upper lip formed a sharp wedge and closed +firmly on the firm lower one, and something like two distinct smiles +played continually round the two corners of the mouth; this, +together with the resolute, insolent intelligence of his eyes, +produced an effect which made it impossible not to notice his face. +Dolokhov was a man of small means and no connections. Yet, though +Anatole spent tens of thousands of rubles, Dolokhov lived with him and +had placed himself on such a footing that all who knew them, including +Anatole himself, respected him more than they did Anatole. Dolokhov +could play all games and nearly always won. However much he drank, +he never lost his clearheadedness. Both Kuragin and Dolokhov were at +that time notorious among the rakes and scapegraces of Petersburg. + +The bottle of rum was brought. The window frame which prevented +anyone from sitting on the outer sill was being forced out by two +footmen, who were evidently flurried and intimidated by the directions +and shouts of the gentlemen around. + +Anatole with his swaggering air strode up to the window. He wanted +to smash something. Pushing away the footmen he tugged at the frame, +but could not move it. He smashed a pane. + +"You have a try, Hercules," said he, turning to Pierre. + +Pierre seized the crossbeam, tugged, and wrenched the oak frame +out with a crash. + +"Take it right out, or they'll think I'm holding on," said Dolokhov. + +"Is the Englishman bragging?... Eh? Is it all right?" said Anatole. + +"First-rate," said Pierre, looking at Dolokhov, who with a bottle of +rum in his hand was approaching the window, from which the light of +the sky, the dawn merging with the afterglow of sunset, was visible. + +Dolokhov, the bottle of rum still in his hand, jumped onto the +window sill. "Listen!" cried he, standing there and addressing those +in the room. All were silent. + +"I bet fifty imperials"--he spoke French that the Englishman might +understand him, but he did, not speak it very well--"I bet fifty +imperials... or do you wish to make it a hundred?" added he, +addressing the Englishman. + +"No, fifty," replied the latter. + +"All right. Fifty imperials... that I will drink a whole bottle of +rum without taking it from my mouth, sitting outside the window on +this spot" (he stooped and pointed to the sloping ledge outside the +window) "and without holding on to anything. Is that right?" + +"Quite right," said the Englishman. + +Anatole turned to the Englishman and taking him by one of the buttons +of his coat and looking down at him--the Englishman was short--began +repeating the terms of the wager to him in English. + +"Wait!" cried Dolokhov, hammering with the bottle on the window sill +to attract attention. "Wait a bit, Kuragin. Listen! If anyone else +does the same, I will pay him a hundred imperials. Do you understand?" + +The Englishman nodded, but gave no indication whether he intended to +accept this challenge or not. Anatole did not release him, and +though he kept nodding to show that he understood, Anatole went on +translating Dolokhov's words into English. A thin young lad, an hussar +of the Life Guards, who had been losing that evening, climbed on the +window sill, leaned over, and looked down. + +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he muttered, looking down from the window at the +stones of the pavement. + +"Shut up!" cried Dolokhov, pushing him away from the window. The lad +jumped awkwardly back into the room, tripping over his spurs. + +Placing the bottle on the window sill where he could reach it +easily, Dolokhov climbed carefully and slowly through the window and +lowered his legs. Pressing against both sides of the window, he +adjusted himself on his seat, lowered his hands, moved a little to the +right and then to the left, and took up the bottle. Anatole brought +two candles and placed them on the window sill, though it was +already quite light. Dolokhov's back in his white shirt, and his curly +head, were lit up from both sides. Everyone crowded to the window, the +Englishman in front. Pierre stood smiling but silent. One man, older +than the others present, suddenly pushed forward with a scared and +angry look and wanted to seize hold of Dolokhov's shirt. + +"I say, this is folly! He'll be killed," said this more sensible +man. + +Anatole stopped him. + +"Don't touch him! You'll startle him and then he'll be killed. +Eh?... What then?... Eh?" + +Dolokhov turned round and, again holding on with both hands, +arranged himself on his seat. + +"If anyone comes meddling again," said he, emitting the words +separately through his thin compressed lips, "I will throw him down +there. Now then!" + +Saying this he again turned round, dropped his hands, took the +bottle and lifted it to his lips, threw back his head, and raised +his free hand to balance himself. One of the footmen who had stooped +to pick up some broken glass remained in that position without +taking his eyes from the window and from Dolokhov's back. Anatole +stood erect with staring eyes. The Englishman looked on sideways, +pursing up his lips. The man who had wished to stop the affair ran +to a corner of the room and threw himself on a sofa with his face to +the wall. Pierre hid his face, from which a faint smile forgot to fade +though his features now expressed horror and fear. All were still. +Pierre took his hands from his eyes. Dolokhov still sat in the same +position, only his head was thrown further back till his curly hair +touched his shirt collar, and the hand holding the bottle was lifted +higher and higher and trembled with the effort. The bottle was +emptying perceptibly and rising still higher and his head tilting +yet further back. "Why is it so long?" thought Pierre. It seemed to +him that more than half an hour had elapsed. Suddenly Dolokhov made +a backward movement with his spine, and his arm trembled nervously; +this was sufficient to cause his whole body to slip as he sat on the +sloping ledge. As he began slipping down, his head and arm wavered +still more with the strain. One hand moved as if to clutch the +window sill, but refrained from touching it. Pierre again covered +his eyes and thought he would never open them again. Suddenly he +was aware of a stir all around. He looked up: Dolokhov was standing on +the window sill, with a pale but radiant face. + +"It's empty." + +He threw the bottle to the Englishman, who caught it neatly. +Dolokhov jumped down. He smelt strongly of rum. + +"Well done!... Fine fellow!... There's a bet for you!... Devil +take you!" came from different sides. + +The Englishman took out his purse and began counting out the +money. Dolokhov stood frowning and did not speak. Pierre jumped upon +the window sill. + +"Gentlemen, who wishes to bet with me? I'll do the same thing!" he +suddenly cried. "Even without a bet, there! Tell them to bring me a +bottle. I'll do it.... Bring a bottle!" + +"Let him do it, let him do it," said Dolokhov, smiling. + +"What next? Have you gone mad?... No one would let you!... Why, +you go giddy even on a staircase," exclaimed several voices. + +"I'll drink it! Let's have a bottle of rum!" shouted Pierre, banging +the table with a determined and drunken gesture and preparing to climb +out of the window. + +They seized him by his arms; but he was so strong that everyone +who touched him was sent flying. + +"No, you'll never manage him that way," said Anatole. "Wait a bit +and I'll get round him.... Listen! I'll take your bet tomorrow, but +now we are all going to ----'s." + +"Come on then," cried Pierre. "Come on!... And we'll take Bruin with +us." + +And he caught the bear, took it in his arms, lifted it from the +ground, and began dancing round the room with it. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Prince Vasili kept the promise he had given to Princess +Drubetskaya who had spoken to him on behalf of her only son Boris on +the evening of Anna Pavlovna's soiree. The matter was mentioned to the +Emperor, an exception made, and Boris transferred into the regiment of +Semenov Guards with the rank of cornet. He received, however, no +appointment to Kutuzov's staff despite all Anna Mikhaylovna's +endeavors and entreaties. Soon after Anna Pavlovna's reception Anna +Mikhaylovna returned to Moscow and went straight to her rich +relations, the Rostovs, with whom she stayed when in the town and +where her darling Bory, who had only just entered a regiment +of the line and was being at once transferred to the Guards as a +cornet, had been educated from childhood and lived for years at a +time. The Guards had already left Petersburg on the tenth of August, +and her son, who had remained in Moscow for his equipment, was to join +them on the march to Radzivilov. + +It was St. Natalia's day and the name day of two of the Rostovs--the +mother and the youngest daughter--both named Nataly. Ever since the +morning, carriages with six horses had been coming and going +continually, bringing visitors to the Countess Rostova's big house +on the Povarskaya, so well known to all Moscow. The countess herself +and her handsome eldest daughter were in the drawing-room with the +visitors who came to congratulate, and who constantly succeeded one +another in relays. + +The countess was a woman of about forty-five, with a thin Oriental +type of face, evidently worn out with childbearing--she had had +twelve. A languor of motion and speech, resulting from weakness, +gave her a distinguished air which inspired respect. Princess Anna +Mikhaylovna Drubetskaya, who as a member of the household was also +seated in the drawing room, helped to receive and entertain the +visitors. The young people were in one of the inner rooms, not +considering it necessary to take part in receiving the visitors. The +count met the guests and saw them off, inviting them all to dinner. + +"I am very, very grateful to you, mon cher," or "ma chere"--he +called everyone without exception and without the slightest +variation in his tone, "my dear," whether they were above or below him +in rank--"I thank you for myself and for our two dear ones whose +name day we are keeping. But mind you come to dinner or I shall be +offended, ma chere! On behalf of the whole family I beg you to come, +mon cher!" These words he repeated to everyone without exception or +variation, and with the same expression on his full, cheerful, +clean-shaven face, the same firm pressure of the hand and the same +quick, repeated bows. As soon as he had seen a visitor off he returned +to one of those who were still in the drawing room, drew a chair +toward him or her, and jauntily spreading out his legs and putting his +hands on his knees with the air of a man who enjoys life and knows how +to live, he swayed to and fro with dignity, offered surmises about the +weather, or touched on questions of health, sometimes in Russian and +sometimes in very bad but self-confident French; then again, like a +man weary but unflinching in the fulfillment of duty, he rose to see +some visitors off and, stroking his scanty gray hairs over his bald +patch, also asked them to dinner. Sometimes on his way back from the +anteroom he would pass through the conservatory and pantry into the +large marble dining hall, where tables were being set out for eighty +people; and looking at the footmen, who were bringing in silver and +china, moving tables, and unfolding damask table linen, he would +call Dmitri Vasilevich, a man of good family and the manager of all +his affairs, and while looking with pleasure at the enormous table +would say: "Well, Dmitri, you'll see that things are all as they +should be? That's right! The great thing is the serving, that's it." +And with a complacent sigh he would return to the drawing room. + +"Marya Lvovna Karagina and her daughter!" announced the countess' +gigantic footman in his bass voice, entering the drawing room. The +countess reflected a moment and took a pinch from a gold snuffbox with +her husband's portrait on it. + +"I'm quite worn out by these callers. However, I'll see her and no +more. She is so affected. Ask her in," she said to the footman in a +sad voice, as if saying: "Very well, finish me off." + +A tall, stout, and proud-looking woman, with a round-faced smiling +daughter, entered the drawing room, their dresses rustling. + +"Dear Countess, what an age... She has been laid up, poor child... +at the Razumovski's ball... and Countess Apraksina... I was so +delighted..." came the sounds of animated feminine voices, +interrupting one another and mingling with the rustling of dresses and +the scraping of chairs. Then one of those conversations began which +last out until, at the first pause, the guests rise with a rustle of +dresses and say, "I am so delighted... Mamma's health... and +Countess Apraksina..." and then, again rustling, pass into the +anteroom, put on cloaks or mantles, and drive away. The conversation +was on the chief topic of the day: the illness of the wealthy and +celebrated beau of Catherine's day, Count Bezukhov, and about his +illegitimate son Pierre, the one who had behaved so improperly at Anna +Pavlovna's reception. + +"I am so sorry for the poor count," said the visitor. "He is in such +bad health, and now this vexation about his son is enough to kill +him!" + +"What is that?" asked the countess as if she did not know what the +visitor alluded to, though she had already heard about the cause of +Count Bezukhov's distress some fifteen times. + +"That's what comes of a modern education," exclaimed the visitor. +"It seems that while he was abroad this young man was allowed to do as +he liked, now in Petersburg I hear he has been doing such terrible +things that he has been expelled by the police." + +"You don't say so!" replied the countess. + +"He chose his friends badly," interposed Anna Mikhaylovna. "Prince +Vasili's son, he, and a certain Dolokhov have, it is said, been up +to heaven only knows what! And they have had to suffer for it. +Dolokhov has been degraded to the ranks and Bezukhov's son sent back +to Moscow. Anatole Kuragin's father managed somehow to get his son's +affair hushed up, but even he was ordered out of Petersburg." + +"But what have they been up to?" asked the countess. + +"They are regular brigands, especially Dolokhov," replied the +visitor. "He is a son of Marya Ivanovna Dolokhova, such a worthy +woman, but there, just fancy! Those three got hold of a bear +somewhere, put it in a carriage, and set off with it to visit some +actresses! The police tried to interfere, and what did the young men +do? They tied a policeman and the bear back to back and put the bear +into the Moyka Canal. And there was the bear swimming about with the +policeman on his back!" + +"What a nice figure the policeman must have cut, my dear!" shouted +the count, dying with laughter. + +"Oh, how dreadful! How can you laugh at it, Count?" + +Yet the ladies themselves could not help laughing. + +"It was all they could do to rescue the poor man," continued the +visitor. "And to think it is Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov's son who +amuses himself in this sensible manner! And he was said to be so +well educated and clever. This is all that his foreign education has +done for him! I hope that here in Moscow no one will receive him, in +spite of his money. They wanted to introduce him to me, but I quite +declined: I have my daughters to consider." + +"Why do you say this young man is so rich?" asked the countess, +turning away from the girls, who at once assumed an air of +inattention. "His children are all illegitimate. I think Pierre also +is illegitimate." + +The visitor made a gesture with her hand. + +"I should think he has a score of them." + +Princess Anna Mikhaylovna intervened in the conversation, +evidently wishing to show her connections and knowledge of what went +on in society. + +"The fact of the matter is," said she significantly, and also in a +half whisper, "everyone knows Count Cyril's reputation.... He has lost +count of his children, but this Pierre was his favorite." + +"How handsome the old man still was only a year ago!" remarked the +countess. "I have never seen a handsomer man." + +"He is very much altered now," said Anna Mikhaylovna. "Well, as I +was saying, Prince Vasili is the next heir through his wife, but the +count is very fond of Pierre, looked after his education, and wrote to +the Emperor about him; so that in the case of his death--and he is +so ill that he may die at any moment, and Dr. Lorrain has come from +Petersburg--no one knows who will inherit his immense fortune, +Pierre or Prince Vasili. Forty thousand serfs and millions of +rubles! I know it all very well for Prince Vasili told me himself. +Besides, Cyril Vladimirovich is my mother's second cousin. He's also +my Bory's godfather," she added, as if she attached no importance at +all to the fact. + +"Prince Vasili arrived in Moscow yesterday. I hear he has come on +some inspection business," remarked the visitor. + +"Yes, but between ourselves," said the princess, "that is a +pretext. The fact is he has come to see Count Cyril Vladimirovich, +hearing how ill he is." + +"But do you know, my dear, that was a capital joke," said the count; +and seeing that the elder visitor was not listening, he turned to +the young ladies. "I can just imagine what a funny figure that +policeman cut!" + +And as he waved his arms to impersonate the policeman, his portly +form again shook with a deep ringing laugh, the laugh of one who +always eats well and, in particular, drinks well. "So do come and dine +with us!" he said. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Silence ensued. The countess looked at her callers, smiling affably, +but not concealing the fact that she would not be distressed if they +now rose and took their leave. The visitor's daughter was already +smoothing down her dress with an inquiring look at her mother, when +suddenly from the next room were heard the footsteps of boys and girls +running to the door and the noise of a chair falling over, and a +girl of thirteen, hiding something in the folds of her short muslin +frock, darted in and stopped short in the middle of the room. It was +evident that she had not intended her flight to bring her so far. +Behind her in the doorway appeared a student with a crimson coat +collar, an officer of the Guards, a girl of fifteen, and a plump +rosy-faced boy in a short jacket. + +The count jumped up and, swaying from side to side, spread his +arms wide and threw them round the little girl who had run in. + +"Ah, here she is!" he exclaimed laughing. "My pet, whose name day it +is. My dear pet!" + +"Ma chere, there is a time for everything," said the countess with +feigned severity. "You spoil her, Ilya," she added, turning to her +husband. + +"How do you do, my dear? I wish you many happy returns of your +name day," said the visitor. "What a charming child," she added, +addressing the mother. + +This black-eyed, wide-mouthed girl, not pretty but full of life--with +childish bare shoulders which after her run heaved and shook her +bodice, with black curls tossed backward, thin bare arms, little legs +in lace-frilled drawers, and feet in low slippers--was just at that +charming age when a girl is no longer a child, though the child is not +yet a young woman. Escaping from her father she ran to hide her +flushed face in the lace of her mother's mantilla--not paying the +least attention to her severe remark--and began to laugh. She laughed, +and in fragmentary sentences tried to explain about a doll which she +produced from the folds of her frock. + +"Do you see?... My doll... Mimi... You see..." was all Natasha +managed to utter (to her everything seemed funny). She leaned +against her mother and burst into such a loud, ringing fit of laughter +that even the prim visitor could not help joining in. + +"Now then, go away and take your monstrosity with you," said the +mother, pushing away her daughter with pretended sternness, and +turning to the visitor she added: "She is my youngest girl." + +Natasha, raising her face for a moment from her mother's mantilla, +glanced up at her through tears of laughter, and again hid her face. + +The visitor, compelled to look on at this family scene, thought it +necessary to take some part in it. + +"Tell me, my dear," said she to Natasha, "is Mimi a relation of +yours? A daughter, I suppose?" + +Natasha did not like the visitor's tone of condescension to childish +things. She did not reply, but looked at her seriously. + +Meanwhile the younger generation: Boris, the officer, Anna +Mikhaylovna's son; Nicholas, the undergraduate, the count's eldest +son; Sonya, the count's fifteen-year-old niece, and little Petya, +his youngest boy, had all settled down in the drawing room and were +obviously trying to restrain within the bounds of decorum the +excitement and mirth that shone in all their faces. Evidently in the +back rooms, from which they had dashed out so impetuously, the +conversation had been more amusing than the drawing-room talk of +society scandals, the weather, and Countess Apraksina. Now and then +they glanced at one another, hardly able to suppress their laughter. + +The two young men, the student and the officer, friends from +childhood, were of the same age and both handsome fellows, though +not alike. Boris was tall and fair, and his calm and handsome face had +regular, delicate features. Nicholas was short with curly hair and +an open expression. Dark hairs were already showing on his upper +lip, and his whole face expressed impetuosity and enthusiasm. Nicholas +blushed when he entered the drawing room. He evidently tried to find +something to say, but failed. Boris on the contrary at once found +his footing, and related quietly and humorously how he had known that +doll Mimi when she was still quite a young lady, before her nose was +broken; how she had aged during the five years he had known her, and +how her head had cracked right across the skull. Having said this he +glanced at Natasha. She turned away from him and glanced at her +younger brother, who was screwing up his eyes and shaking with +suppressed laughter, and unable to control herself any longer, she +jumped up and rushed from the room as fast as her nimble little feet +would carry her. Boris did not laugh. + +"You were meaning to go out, weren't you, Mamma? Do you want the +carriage?" he asked his mother with a smile. + +"Yes, yes, go and tell them to get it ready," she answered, +returning his smile. + +Boris quietly left the room and went in search of Natasha. The plump +boy ran after them angrily, as if vexed that their program had been +disturbed. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The only young people remaining in the drawing room, not counting +the young lady visitor and the countess' eldest daughter (who was four +years older than her sister and behaved already like a grown-up +person), were Nicholas and Sonya, the niece. Sonya was a slender +little brunette with a tender look in her eyes which were veiled by +long lashes, thick black plaits coiling twice round her head, and a +tawny tint in her complexion and especially in the color of her +slender but graceful and muscular arms and neck. By the grace of her +movements, by the softness and flexibility of her small limbs, and +by a certain coyness and reserve of manner, she reminded one of a +pretty, half-grown kitten which promises to become a beautiful +little cat. She evidently considered it proper to show an interest +in the general conversation by smiling, but in spite of herself her +eyes under their thick long lashes watched her cousin who was going to +join the army, with such passionate girlish adoration that her smile +could not for a single instant impose upon anyone, and it was clear +that the kitten had settled down only to spring up with more energy +and again play with her cousin as soon as they too could, like Natasha +and Boris, escape from the drawing room. + +"Ah yes, my dear," said the count, addressing the visitor and +pointing to Nicholas, "his friend Boris has become an officer, and +so for friendship's sake he is leaving the university and me, his +old father, and entering the military service, my dear. And there +was a place and everything waiting for him in the Archives Department! +Isn't that friendship?" remarked the count in an inquiring tone. + +"But they say that war has been declared," replied the visitor. + +"They've been saying so a long while," said the count, "and +they'll say so again and again, and that will be the end of it. My +dear, there's friendship for you," he repeated. "He's joining the +hussars." + +The visitor, not knowing what to say, shook her head. + +"It's not at all from friendship," declared Nicholas, flaring up and +turning away as if from a shameful aspersion. "It is not from +friendship at all; I simply feel that the army is my vocation." + +He glanced at his cousin and the young lady visitor; and they were +both regarding him with a smile of approbation. + +"Schubert, the colonel of the Pavlograd Hussars, is dining with us +today. He has been here on leave and is taking Nicholas back with him. +It can't be helped!" said the count, shrugging his shoulders and +speaking playfully of a matter that evidently distressed him. + +"I have already told you, Papa," said his son, "that if you don't +wish to let me go, I'll stay. But I know I am no use anywhere except +in the army; I am not a diplomat or a government clerk.--I don't +know how to hide what I feel." As he spoke he kept glancing with the +flirtatiousness of a handsome youth at Sonya and the young lady +visitor. + +The little kitten, feasting her eyes on him, seemed ready at any +moment to start her gambols again and display her kittenish nature. + +"All right, all right!" said the old count. "He always flares up! +This Buonaparte has turned all their heads; they all think of how he +rose from an ensign and became Emperor. Well, well, God grant it," +he added, not noticing his visitor's sarcastic smile. + +The elders began talking about Bonaparte. Julie Karagina turned to +young Rostov. + +"What a pity you weren't at the Arkharovs' on Thursday. It was so +dull without you," said she, giving him a tender smile. + +The young man, flattered, sat down nearer to her with a coquettish +smile, and engaged the smiling Julie in a confidential conversation +without at all noticing that his involuntary smile had stabbed the +heart of Sonya, who blushed and smiled unnaturally. In the midst of +his talk he glanced round at her. She gave him a passionately angry +glance, and hardly able to restrain her tears and maintain the +artificial smile on her lips, she got up and left the room. All +Nicholas' animation vanished. He waited for the first pause in the +conversation, and then with a distressed face left the room to find +Sonya. + +"How plainly all these young people wear their hearts on their +sleeves!" said Anna Mikhaylovna, pointing to Nicholas as he went +out. "Cousinage--dangereux voisinage;"* she added. + + +*Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood. + + +"Yes," said the countess when the brightness these young people +had brought into the room had vanished; and as if answering a question +no one had put but which was always in her mind, "and how much +suffering, how much anxiety one has had to go through that we might +rejoice in them now! And yet really the anxiety is greater now than +the joy. One is always, always anxious! Especially just at this age, +so dangerous both for girls and boys." + +"It all depends on the bringing up," remarked the visitor. + +"Yes, you're quite right," continued the countess. "Till now I +have always, thank God, been my children's friend and had their full +confidence," said she, repeating the mistake of so many parents who +imagine that their children have no secrets from them. "I know I shall +always be my daughters' first confidante, and that if Nicholas, with +his impulsive nature, does get into mischief (a boy can't help it), he +will all the same never be like those Petersburg young men." + +"Yes, they are splendid, splendid youngsters," chimed in the +count, who always solved questions that seemed to him perplexing by +deciding that everything was splendid. "Just fancy: wants to be an +hussar. What's one to do, my dear?" + +"What a charming creature your younger girl is," said the visitor; +"a little volcano!" + +"Yes, a regular volcano," said the count. "Takes after me! And +what a voice she has; though she's my daughter, I tell the truth +when I say she'll be a singer, a second Salomoni! We have engaged an +Italian to give her lessons." + +"Isn't she too young? I have heard that it harms the voice to +train it at that age." + +"Oh no, not at all too young!" replied the count. "Why, our +mothers used to be married at twelve or thirteen." + +"And she's in love with Boris already. Just fancy!" said the +countess with a gentle smile, looking at Boris' and went on, evidently +concerned with a thought that always occupied her: "Now you see if I +were to be severe with her and to forbid it... goodness knows what +they might be up to on the sly" (she meant that they would be +kissing), "but as it is, I know every word she utters. She will come +running to me of her own accord in the evening and tell me everything. +Perhaps I spoil her, but really that seems the best plan. With her +elder sister I was stricter." + +"Yes, I was brought up quite differently," remarked the handsome +elder daughter, Countess Vera, with a smile. + +But the smile did not enhance Vera's beauty as smiles generally do; on +the contrary it gave her an unnatural, and therefore unpleasant, +expression. Vera was good-looking, not at all stupid, quick at +learning, was well brought up, and had a pleasant voice; what she said +was true and appropriate, yet, strange to say, everyone--the visitors +and countess alike--turned to look at her as if wondering why she had +said it, and they all felt awkward. + +"People are always too clever with their eldest children and try +to make something exceptional of them," said the visitor. + +"What's the good of denying it, my dear? Our dear countess was too +clever with Vera," said the count. "Well, what of that? She's turned +out splendidly all the same," he added, winking at Vera. + +The guests got up and took their leave, promising to return to +dinner. + +"What manners! I thought they would never go," said the countess, +when she had seen her guests out. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +When Natasha ran out of the drawing room she only went as far as the +conservatory. There she paused and stood listening to the conversation +in the drawing room, waiting for Boris to come out. She was already +growing impatient, and stamped her foot, ready to cry at his not +coming at once, when she heard the young man's discreet steps +approaching neither quickly nor slowly. At this Natasha dashed swiftly +among the flower tubs and hid there. + +Boris paused in the middle of the room, looked round, brushed a +little dust from the sleeve of his uniform, and going up to a mirror +examined his handsome face. Natasha, very still, peered out from her +ambush, waiting to see what he would do. He stood a little while +before the glass, smiled, and walked toward the other door. Natasha +was about to call him but changed her mind. "Let him look for me," +thought she. Hardly had Boris gone than Sonya, flushed, in tears, +and muttering angrily, came in at the other door. Natasha checked +her first impulse to run out to her, and remained in her hiding place, +watching--as under an invisible cap--to see what went on in the world. +She was experiencing a new and peculiar pleasure. Sonya, muttering +to herself, kept looking round toward the drawing-room door. It opened +and Nicholas came in. + +"Sonya, what is the matter with you? How can you?" said he, +running up to her. + +"It's nothing, nothing; leave me alone!" sobbed Sonya. + +"Ah, I know what it is." + +"Well, if you do, so much the better, and you can go back to her!" + +"So-o-onya! Look here! How can you torture me and yourself like +that, for a mere fancy?" said Nicholas taking her hand. + +Sonya did not pull it away, and left off crying. Natasha, not +stirring and scarcely breathing, watched from her ambush with +sparkling eyes. "What will happen now?" thought she. + +"Sonya! What is anyone in the world to me? You alone are +everything!" said Nicholas. "And I will prove it to you." + +"I don't like you to talk like that." + +"Well, then, I won't; only forgive me, Sonya!" He drew her to him +and kissed her. + +"Oh, how nice," thought Natasha; and when Sonya and Nicholas had +gone out of the conservatory she followed and called Boris to her. + +"Boris, come here," said she with a sly and significant look. "I +have something to tell you. Here, here!" and she led him into the +conservatory to the place among the tubs where she had been hiding. + +Boris followed her, smiling. + +"What is the something?" asked he. + +She grew confused, glanced round, and, seeing the doll she had +thrown down on one of the tubs, picked it up. + +"Kiss the doll," said she. + +Boris looked attentively and kindly at her eager face, but did not +reply. + +"Don't you want to? Well, then, come here," said she, and went +further in among the plants and threw down the doll. "Closer, closer!" +she whispered. + +She caught the young officer by his cuffs, and a look of solemnity +and fear appeared on her flushed face. + +"And me? Would you like to kiss me?" she whispered almost inaudibly, +glancing up at him from under her brows, smiling, and almost crying +from excitement. + +Boris blushed. + +"How funny you are!" he said, bending down to her and blushing still +more, but he waited and did nothing. + +Suddenly she jumped up onto a tub to be higher than he, embraced him +so that both her slender bare arms clasped him above his neck, and, +tossing back her hair, kissed him full on the lips. + +Then she slipped down among the flowerpots on the other side of +the tubs and stood, hanging her head. + +"Natasha," he said, "you know that I love you, but..." + +"You are in love with me?" Natasha broke in. + +"Yes, I am, but please don't let us do like that.... In another four +years... then I will ask for your hand." + +Natasha considered. + +"Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen," she counted on her slender +little fingers. "All right! Then it's settled?" + +A smile of joy and satisfaction lit up her eager face. + +"Settled!" replied Boris. + +"Forever?" said the little girl. "Till death itself?" + +She took his arm and with a happy face went with him into the +adjoining sitting room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +After receiving her visitors, the countess was so tired that she +gave orders to admit no more, but the porter was told to be sure to +invite to dinner all who came "to congratulate." The countess wished +to have a tete-a-tete talk with the friend of her childhood, +Princess Anna Mikhaylovna, whom she had not seen properly since she +returned from Petersburg. Anna Mikhaylovna, with her tear-worn but +pleasant face, drew her chair nearer to that of the countess. + +"With you I will be quite frank," said Anna Mikhaylovna. "There +are not many left of us old friends! That's why I so value your +friendship." + +Anna Mikhaylovna looked at Vera and paused. The countess pressed her +friend's hand. + +"Vera," she said to her eldest daughter who was evidently not a +favorite, "how is it you have so little tact? Don't you see you are +not wanted here? Go to the other girls, or..." + +The handsome Vera smiled contemptuously but did not seem at all +hurt. + +"If you had told me sooner, Mamma, I would have gone," she replied +as she rose to go to her own room. + +But as she passed the sitting room she noticed two couples +sitting, one pair at each window. She stopped and smiled scornfully. +Sonya was sitting close to Nicholas who was copying out some verses +for her, the first he had ever written. Boris and Natasha were at +the other window and ceased talking when Vera entered. Sonya and +Natasha looked at Vera with guilty, happy faces. + +It was pleasant and touching to see these little girls in love; +but apparently the sight of them roused no pleasant feeling in Vera. + +"How often have I asked you not to take my things?" she said. "You +have a room of your own," and she took the inkstand from Nicholas. + +"In a minute, in a minute," he said, dipping his pen. + +"You always manage to do things at the wrong time," continued +Vera. "You came rushing into the drawing room so that everyone felt +ashamed of you." + +Though what she said was quite just, perhaps for that very reason no +one replied, and the four simply looked at one another. She lingered +in the room with the inkstand in her hand. + +"And at your age what secrets can there be between Natasha and +Boris, or between you two? It's all nonsense!" + +"Now, Vera, what does it matter to you?" said Natasha in defense, +speaking very gently. + +She seemed that day to be more than ever kind and affectionate to +everyone. + +"Very silly," said Vera. "I am ashamed of you. Secrets indeed!" + +"All have secrets of their own," answered Natasha, getting warmer. +"We don't interfere with you and Berg." + +"I should think not," said Vera, "because there can never be +anything wrong in my behavior. But I'll just tell Mamma how you are +behaving with Boris." + +"Natalya Ilynichna behaves very well to me," remarked Boris. "I have +nothing to complain of." + +"Don't, Boris! You are such a diplomat that it is really +tiresome," said Natasha in a mortified voice that trembled slightly. +(She used the word "diplomat," which was just then much in vogue among +the children, in the special sense they attached to it.) "Why does she +bother me?" And she added, turning to Vera, "You'll never understand +it, because you've never loved anyone. You have no heart! You are a +Madame de Genlis and nothing more" (this nickname, bestowed on Vera by +Nicholas, was considered very stinging), "and your greatest pleasure +is to be unpleasant to people! Go and flirt with Berg as much as you +please," she finished quickly. + +"I shall at any rate not run after a young man before visitors..." + +"Well, now you've done what you wanted," put in Nicholas--"said +unpleasant things to everyone and upset them. Let's go to the +nursery." + +All four, like a flock of scared birds, got up and left the room. + +"The unpleasant things were said to me," remarked Vera, "I said none +to anyone." + +"Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis!" shouted laughing voices +through the door. + +The handsome Vera, who produced such an irritating and unpleasant +effect on everyone, smiled and, evidently unmoved by what had been +said to her, went to the looking glass and arranged her hair and +scarf. Looking at her own handsome face she seemed to become still +colder and calmer. + + +In the drawing room the conversation was still going on. + +"Ah, my dear," said the countess, "my life is not all roses +either. Don't I know that at the rate we are living our means won't +last long? It's all the Club and his easygoing nature. Even in the +country do we get any rest? Theatricals, hunting, and heaven knows +what besides! But don't let's talk about me; tell me how you managed +everything. I often wonder at you, Annette--how at your age you can +rush off alone in a carriage to Moscow, to Petersburg, to those +ministers and great people, and know how to deal with them all! It's +quite astonishing. How did you get things settled? I couldn't possibly +do it." + +"Ah, my love," answered Anna Mikhaylovna, "God grant you never +know what it is to be left a widow without means and with a son you +love to distraction! One learns many things then," she added with a +certain pride. "That lawsuit taught me much. When I want to see one of +those big people I write a note: 'Princess So-and-So desires an +interview with So and-So,' and then I take a cab and go myself two, +three, or four times--till I get what I want. I don't mind what they +think of me." + +"Well, and to whom did you apply about Bory?" asked the countess. +"You see yours is already an officer in the Guards, while my +Nicholas is going as a cadet. There's no one to interest himself for +him. To whom did you apply?" + +"To Prince Vasili. He was so kind. He at once agreed to +everything, and put the matter before the Emperor," said Princess Anna +Mikhaylovna enthusiastically, quite forgetting all the humiliation she +had endured to gain her end. + +"Has Prince Vasili aged much?" asked the countess. "I have not +seen him since we acted together at the Rumyantsovs' theatricals. I +expect he has forgotten me. He paid me attentions in those days," said +the countess, with a smile. + +"He is just the same as ever," replied Anna Mikhaylovna, +"overflowing with amiability. His position has not turned his head +at all. He said to me, 'I am sorry I can do so little for you, dear +Princess. I am at your command.' Yes, he is a fine fellow and a very +kind relation. But, Nataly, you know my love for my son: I would do +anything for his happiness! And my affairs are in such a bad way +that my position is now a terrible one," continued Anna Mikhaylovna, +sadly, dropping her voice. "My wretched lawsuit takes all I have and +makes no progress. Would you believe it, I have literally not a +penny and don't know how to equip Boris." She took out her +handkerchief and began to cry. "I need five hundred rubles, and have +only one twenty-five-ruble note. I am in such a state.... My only hope +now is in Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov. If he will not assist +his godson--you know he is Bory's godfather--and allow him something +for his maintenance, all my trouble will have been thrown away.... I +shall not be able to equip him." + +The countess' eyes filled with tears and she pondered in silence. + +"I often think, though, perhaps it's a sin," said the princess, +"that here lives Count Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov so rich, all +alone... that tremendous fortune... and what is his life worth? It's a +burden to him, and Bory's life is only just beginning...." + +"Surely he will leave something to Boris," said the countess. + +"Heaven only knows, my dear! These rich grandees are so selfish. +Still, I will take Boris and go to see him at once, and I shall +speak to him straight out. Let people think what they will of me, it's +really all the same to me when my son's fate is at stake." The +princess rose. "It's now two o'clock and you dine at four. There +will just be time." + +And like a practical Petersburg lady who knows how to make the +most of time, Anna Mikhaylovna sent someone to call her son, and +went into the anteroom with him. + +"Good-by, my dear," said she to the countess who saw her to the +door, and added in a whisper so that her son should not hear, "Wish me +good luck." + +"Are you going to Count Cyril Vladimirovich, my dear?" said the +count coming out from the dining hall into the anteroom, and he added: +"If he is better, ask Pierre to dine with us. He has been to the +house, you know, and danced with the children. Be sure to invite +him, my dear. We will see how Taras distinguishes himself today. He +says Count Orlov never gave such a dinner as ours will be!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +"My dear Boris," said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna to her son as +Countess Rostova's carriage in which they were seated drove over the +straw covered street and turned into the wide courtyard of Count Cyril +Vladimirovich Bezukhov's house. "My dear Boris," said the mother, +drawing her hand from beneath her old mantle and laying it timidly and +tenderly on her son's arm, "be affectionate and attentive to him. +Count Cyril Vladimirovich is your godfather after all, your future +depends on him. Remember that, my dear, and be nice to him, as you +so well know how to be." + +"If only I knew that anything besides humiliation would come of +it..." answered her son coldly. "But I have promised and will do it +for your sake." + +Although the hall porter saw someone's carriage standing at the +entrance, after scrutinizing the mother and son (who without asking to +be announced had passed straight through the glass porch between the +rows of statues in niches) and looking significantly at the lady's old +cloak, he asked whether they wanted the count or the princesses, +and, hearing that they wished to see the count, said his excellency +was worse today, and that his excellency was not receiving anyone. + +"We may as well go back," said the son in French. + +"My dear!" exclaimed his mother imploringly, again laying her hand +on his arm as if that touch might soothe or rouse him. + +Boris said no more, but looked inquiringly at his mother without +taking off his cloak. + +"My friend," said Anna Mikhaylovna in gentle tones, addressing the +hall porter, "I know Count Cyril Vladimirovich is very ill... that's +why I have come... I am a relation. I shall not disturb him, my +friend... I only need see Prince Vasili Sergeevich: he is staying +here, is he not? Please announce me." + +The hall porter sullenly pulled a bell that rang upstairs, and +turned away. + +"Princess Drubetskaya to see Prince Vasili Sergeevich," he called to +a footman dressed in knee breeches, shoes, and a swallow-tail coat, +who ran downstairs and looked over from the halfway landing. + +The mother smoothed the folds of her dyed silk dress before a +large Venetian mirror in the wall, and in her trodden-down shoes +briskly ascended the carpeted stairs. + +"My dear," she said to her son, once more stimulating him by a +touch, "you promised me!" + +The son, lowering his eyes, followed her quietly. + +They entered the large hall, from which one of the doors led to +the apartments assigned to Prince Vasili. + +Just as the mother and son, having reached the middle of the hall, +were about to ask their way of an elderly footman who had sprung up as +they entered, the bronze handle of one of the doors turned and +Prince Vasili came out--wearing a velvet coat with a single star on +his breast, as was his custom when at home--taking leave of a +good-looking, dark-haired man. This was the celebrated Petersburg +doctor, Lorrain. + +"Then it is certain?" said the prince. + +"Prince, humanum est errare,* but..." replied the doctor, swallowing +his r's, and pronouncing the Latin words with a French accent. + + +*To err is human. + + +"Very well, very well..." + +Seeing Anna Mikhaylovna and her son, Prince Vasili dismissed the +doctor with a bow and approached them silently and with a look of +inquiry. The son noticed that an expression of profound sorrow +suddenly clouded his mother's face, and he smiled slightly. + +"Ah, Prince! In what sad circumstances we meet again! And how is our +dear invalid?" said she, as though unaware of the cold offensive +look fixed on her. + +Prince Vasili stared at her and at Boris questioningly and +perplexed. Boris bowed politely. Prince Vasili without acknowledging +the bow turned to Anna Mikhaylovna, answering her query by a +movement of the head and lips indicating very little hope for the +patient. + +"Is it possible?" exclaimed Anna Mikhaylovna. "Oh, how awful! It +is terrible to think.... This is my son," she added, indicating Boris. +"He wanted to thank you himself." + +Boris bowed again politely. + +"Believe me, Prince, a mother's heart will never forget what you +have done for us." + +"I am glad I was able to do you a service, my dear Anna +Mikhaylovna," said Prince Vasili, arranging his lace frill, and in +tone and manner, here in Moscow to Anna Mikhaylovna whom he had placed +under an obligation, assuming an air of much greater importance than +he had done in Petersburg at Anna Scherer's reception. + +"Try to serve well and show yourself worthy," added he, addressing +Boris with severity. "I am glad.... Are you here on leave?" he went on +in his usual tone of indifference. + +"I am awaiting orders to join my new regiment, your excellency," +replied Boris, betraying neither annoyance at the prince's brusque +manner nor a desire to enter into conversation, but speaking so +quietly and respectfully that the prince gave him a searching glance. + +"Are you living with your mother?" + +"I am living at Countess Rostova's," replied Boris, again adding, +"your excellency." + +"That is, with Ilya Rostov who married Nataly Shinshina," said +Anna Mikhaylovna. + +"I know, I know," answered Prince Vasili in his monotonous voice. "I +never could understand how Nataly made up her mind to marry that +unlicked bear! A perfectly absurd and stupid fellow, and a gambler +too, I am told." + +"But a very kind man, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna with a pathetic +smile, as though she too knew that Count Rostov deserved this censure, +but asked him not to be too hard on the poor old man. "What do the +doctors say?" asked the princess after a pause, her worn face again +expressing deep sorrow. + +"They give little hope," replied the prince. + +"And I should so like to thank Uncle once for all his kindness to me +and Boris. He is his godson," she added, her tone suggesting that this +fact ought to give Prince Vasili much satisfaction. + +Prince Vasili became thoughtful and frowned. Anna Mikhaylovna saw +that he was afraid of finding in her a rival for Count Bezukhov's +fortune, and hastened to reassure him. + +"If it were not for my sincere affection and devotion to Uncle," +said she, uttering the word with peculiar assurance and unconcern, +"I know his character: noble, upright... but you see he has no one +with him except the young princesses.... They are still young...." She +bent her head and continued in a whisper: "Has he performed his +final duty, Prince? How priceless are those last moments! It can +make things no worse, and it is absolutely necessary to prepare him if +he is so ill. We women, Prince," and she smiled tenderly, "always know +how to say these things. I absolutely must see him, however painful it +may be for me. I am used to suffering." + +Evidently the prince understood her, and also understood, as he +had done at Anna Pavlovna's, that it would be difficult to get rid +of Anna Mikhaylovna. + +"Would not such a meeting be too trying for him, dear Anna +Mikhaylovna?" said he. "Let us wait until evening. The doctors are +expecting a crisis." + +"But one cannot delay, Prince, at such a moment! Consider that the +welfare of his soul is at stake. Ah, it is awful: the duties of a +Christian..." + +A door of one of the inner rooms opened and one of the princesses, +the count's niece, entered with a cold, stern face. The length of +her body was strikingly out of proportion to her short legs. Prince +Vasili turned to her. + +"Well, how is he?" + +"Still the same; but what can you expect, this noise..." said the +princess, looking at Anna Mikhaylovna as at a stranger. + +"Ah, my dear, I hardly knew you," said Anna Mikhaylovna with a happy +smile, ambling lightly up to the count's niece. "I have come, and am +at your service to help you nurse my uncle. I imagine what you have +gone through," and she sympathetically turned up her eyes. + +The princess gave no reply and did not even smile, but left the room +as Anna Mikhaylovna took off her gloves and, occupying the position +she had conquered, settled down in an armchair, inviting Prince Vasili +to take a seat beside her. + +"Boris," she said to her son with a smile, "I shall go in to see the +count, my uncle; but you, my dear, had better go to Pierre meanwhile +and don't forget to give him the Rostovs' invitation. They ask him +to dinner. I suppose he won't go?" she continued, turning to the +prince. + +"On the contrary," replied the prince, who had plainly become +depressed, "I shall be only too glad if you relieve me of that young +man.... Here he is, and the count has not once asked for him." + +He shrugged his shoulders. A footman conducted Boris down one flight +of stairs and up another, to Pierre's rooms. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Pierre, after all, had not managed to choose a career for himself in +Petersburg, and had been expelled from there for riotous conduct and +sent to Moscow. The story told about him at Count Rostov's was true. +Pierre had taken part in tying a policeman to a bear. He had now been +for some days in Moscow and was staying as usual at his father's +house. Though he expected that the story of his escapade would be +already known in Moscow and that the ladies about his father--who were +never favorably disposed toward him--would have used it to turn the +count against him, he nevertheless on the day of his arrival went to +his father's part of the house. Entering the drawing room, where the +princesses spent most of their time, he greeted the ladies, two of +whom were sitting at embroidery frames while a third read aloud. It +was the eldest who was reading--the one who had met Anna Mikhaylovna. +The two younger ones were embroidering: both were rosy and pretty and +they differed only in that one had a little mole on her lip which made +her much prettier. Pierre was received as if he were a corpse or a +leper. The eldest princess paused in her reading and silently stared +at him with frightened eyes; the second assumed precisely the same +expression; while the youngest, the one with the mole, who was of a +cheerful and lively disposition, bent over her frame to hide a smile +probably evoked by the amusing scene she foresaw. She drew her wool +down through the canvas and, scarcely able to refrain from laughing, +stooped as if trying to make out the pattern. + +"How do you do, cousin?" said Pierre. "You don't recognize me?" + +"I recognize you only too well, too well." + +"How is the count? Can I see him?" asked Pierre, awkwardly as usual, +but unabashed. + +"The count is suffering physically and mentally, and apparently +you have done your best to increase his mental sufferings." + +"Can I see the count?" Pierre again asked. + +"Hm.... If you wish to kill him, to kill him outright, you can see +him... Olga, go and see whether Uncle's beef tea is ready--it is +almost time," she added, giving Pierre to understand that they were +busy, and busy making his father comfortable, while evidently he, +Pierre, was only busy causing him annoyance. + +Olga went out. Pierre stood looking at the sisters; then he bowed +and said: "Then I will go to my rooms. You will let me know when I can +see him." + +And he left the room, followed by the low but ringing laughter of +the sister with the mole. + +Next day Prince Vasili had arrived and settled in the count's house. +He sent for Pierre and said to him: "My dear fellow, if you are +going to behave here as you did in Petersburg, you will end very +badly; that is all I have to say to you. The count is very, very +ill, and you must not see him at all." + +Since then Pierre had not been disturbed and had spent the whole +time in his rooms upstairs. + +When Boris appeared at his door Pierre was pacing up and down his +room, stopping occasionally at a corner to make menacing gestures at +the wall, as if running a sword through an invisible foe, and +glaring savagely over his spectacles, and then again resuming his +walk, muttering indistinct words, shrugging his shoulders and +gesticulating. + +"England is done for," said he, scowling and pointing his finger +at someone unseen. "Mr. Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and to the +rights of man, is sentenced to..." But before Pierre--who at that +moment imagined himself to be Napoleon in person and to have just +effected the dangerous crossing of the Straits of Dover and captured +London--could pronounce Pitt's sentence, he saw a well-built and +handsome young officer entering his room. Pierre paused. He had left +Moscow when Boris was a boy of fourteen, and had quite forgotten +him, but in his usual impulsive and hearty way he took Boris by the +hand with a friendly smile. + +"Do you remember me?" asked Boris quietly with a pleasant smile. +"I have come with my mother to see the count, but it seems he is not +well." + +"Yes, it seems he is ill. People are always disturbing him," +answered Pierre, trying to remember who this young man was. + +Boris felt that Pierre did not recognize him but did not consider it +necessary to introduce himself, and without experiencing the least +embarrassment looked Pierre straight in the face. + +"Count Rostov asks you to come to dinner today," said he, after a +considerable pause which made Pierre feel uncomfortable. + +"Ah, Count Rostov!" exclaimed Pierre joyfully. "Then you are his +son, Ilya? Only fancy, I didn't know you at first. Do you remember how +we went to the Sparrow Hills with Madame Jacquot?... It's such an +age..." + +"You are mistaken," said Boris deliberately, with a bold and +slightly sarcastic smile. "I am Boris, son of Princess Anna +Mikhaylovna Drubetskaya. Rostov, the father, is Ilya, and his son is +Nicholas. I never knew any Madame Jacquot." + +Pierre shook his head and arms as if attacked by mosquitoes or bees. + +"Oh dear, what am I thinking about? I've mixed everything up. One +has so many relatives in Moscow! So you are Boris? Of course. Well, +now we know where we are. And what do you think of the Boulogne +expedition? The English will come off badly, you know, if Napoleon +gets across the Channel. I think the expedition is quite feasible. +If only Villeneuve doesn't make a mess of things!" + +Boris knew nothing about the Boulogne expedition; he did not read +the papers and it was the first time he had heard Villeneuve's name. + +"We here in Moscow are more occupied with dinner parties and scandal +than with politics," said he in his quiet ironical tone. "I know +nothing about it and have not thought about it. Moscow is chiefly busy +with gossip," he continued. "Just now they are talking about you and +your father." + +Pierre smiled in his good-natured way as if afraid for his +companion's sake that the latter might say something he would +afterwards regret. But Boris spoke distinctly, clearly, and dryly, +looking straight into Pierre's eyes. + +"Moscow has nothing else to do but gossip," Boris went on. +"Everybody is wondering to whom the count will leave his fortune, +though he may perhaps outlive us all, as I sincerely hope he will..." + +"Yes, it is all very horrid," interrupted Pierre, "very horrid." + +Pierre was still afraid that this officer might inadvertently say +something disconcerting to himself. + +"And it must seem to you," said Boris flushing slightly, but not +changing his tone or attitude, "it must seem to you that everyone is +trying to get something out of the rich man?" + +"So it does," thought Pierre. + +"But I just wish to say, to avoid misunderstandings, that you are +quite mistaken if you reckon me or my mother among such people. We are +very poor, but for my own part at any rate, for the very reason that +your father is rich, I don't regard myself as a relation of his, and +neither I nor my mother would ever ask or take anything from him." + +For a long time Pierre could not understand, but when he did, he +jumped up from the sofa, seized Boris under the elbow in his quick, +clumsy way, and, blushing far more than Boris, began to speak with a +feeling of mingled shame and vexation. + +"Well, this is strange! Do you suppose I... who could think?... I +know very well..." + +But Boris again interrupted him. + +"I am glad I have spoken out fully. Perhaps you did not like it? You +must excuse me," said he, putting Pierre at ease instead of being +put at ease by him, "but I hope I have not offended you. I always make +it a rule to speak out... Well, what answer am I to take? Will you +come to dinner at the Rostovs'?" + +And Boris, having apparently relieved himself of an onerous duty and +extricated himself from an awkward situation and placed another in it, +became quite pleasant again. + +"No, but I say," said Pierre, calming down, "you are a wonderful +fellow! What you have just said is good, very good. Of course you +don't know me. We have not met for such a long time... not since we +were children. You might think that I... I understand, quite +understand. I could not have done it myself, I should not have had the +courage, but it's splendid. I am very glad to have made your +acquaintance. It's queer," he added after a pause, "that you should +have suspected me!" He began to laugh. "Well, what of it! I hope we'll +get better acquainted," and he pressed Boris' hand. "Do you know, I +have not once been in to see the count. He has not sent for me.... I +am sorry for him as a man, but what can one do?" + +"And so you think Napoleon will manage to get an army across?" asked +Boris with a smile. + +Pierre saw that Boris wished to change the subject, and being of the +same mind he began explaining the advantages and disadvantages of +the Boulogne expedition. + +A footman came in to summon Boris--the princess was going. Pierre, +in order to make Boris' better acquaintance, promised to come to +dinner, and warmly pressing his hand looked affectionately over his +spectacles into Boris' eyes. After he had gone Pierre continued pacing +up and down the room for a long time, no longer piercing an +imaginary foe with his imaginary sword, but smiling at the remembrance +of that pleasant, intelligent, and resolute young man. + +As often happens in early youth, especially to one who leads a +lonely life, he felt an unaccountable tenderness for this young man +and made up his mind that they would be friends. + +Prince Vasili saw the princess off. She held a handkerchief to her +eyes and her face was tearful. + +"It is dreadful, dreadful!" she was saying, "but cost me what it may +I shall do my duty. I will come and spend the night. He must not be +left like this. Every moment is precious. I can't think why his nieces +put it off. Perhaps God will help me to find a way to prepare +him!... Adieu, Prince! May God support you..." + +"Adieu, ma bonne," answered Prince Vasili turning away from her. + +"Oh, he is in a dreadful state," said the mother to her son when +they were in the carriage. "He hardly recognizes anybody." + +"I don't understand, Mamma--what is his attitude to Pierre?" asked +the son. + +"The will will show that, my dear; our fate also depends on it." + +"But why do you expect that he will leave us anything?" + +"Ah, my dear! He is so rich, and we are so poor!" + +"Well, that is hardly a sufficient reason, Mamma..." + +"Oh, Heaven! How ill he is!" exclaimed the mother. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +After Anna Mikhaylovna had driven off with her son to visit Count +Cyril Vladimirovich Bezukhov, Countess Rostova sat for a long time all +alone applying her handkerchief to her eyes. At last she rang. + +"What is the matter with you, my dear?" she said crossly to the maid +who kept her waiting some minutes. "Don't you wish to serve me? Then +I'll find you another place." + +The countess was upset by her friend's sorrow and humiliating +poverty, and was therefore out of sorts, a state of mind which with +her always found expression in calling her maid "my dear" and speaking +to her with exaggerated politeness. + +"I am very sorry, ma'am," answered the maid. + +"Ask the count to come to me." + +The count came waddling in to see his wife with a rather guilty look +as usual. + +"Well, little countess? What a saute of game au madere we are to +have, my dear! I tasted it. The thousand rubles I paid for Taras +were not ill-spent. He is worth it!" + +He sat down by his wife, his elbows on his knees and his hands +ruffling his gray hair. + +"What are your commands, little countess?" + +"You see, my dear... What's that mess?" she said, pointing to his +waistcoat. "It's the saute, most likely," she added with a smile. +"Well, you see, Count, I want some money." + +Her face became sad. + +"Oh, little countess!"... and the count began bustling to get out +his pocketbook. + +"I want a great deal, Count! I want five hundred rubles," and taking +out her cambric handkerchief she began wiping her husband's waistcoat. + +"Yes, immediately, immediately! Hey, who's there?" he called out +in a tone only used by persons who are certain that those they call +will rush to obey the summons. "Send Dmitri to me!" + +Dmitri, a man of good family who had been brought up in the +count's house and now managed all his affairs, stepped softly into the +room. + +"This is what I want, my dear fellow," said the count to the +deferential young man who had entered. "Bring me..." he reflected a +moment, "yes, bring me seven hundred rubles, yes! But mind, don't +bring me such tattered and dirty notes as last time, but nice clean +ones for the countess." + +"Yes, Dmitri, clean ones, please," said the countess, sighing +deeply. + +"When would you like them, your excellency?" asked Dmitri. "Allow me +to inform you... But, don't be uneasy," he added, noticing that the +count was beginning to breathe heavily and quickly which was always +a sign of approaching anger. "I was forgetting... Do you wish it +brought at once?" + +"Yes, yes; just so! Bring it. Give it to the countess." + +"What a treasure that Dmitri is," added the count with a smile +when the young man had departed. "There is never any 'impossible' +with him. That's a thing I hate! Everything is possible." + +"Ah, money, Count, money! How much sorrow it causes in the world," +said the countess. "But I am in great need of this sum." + +"You, my little countess, are a notorious spendthrift," said the +count, and having kissed his wife's hand he went back to his study. + +When Anna Mikhaylovna returned from Count Bezukhov's the money, +all in clean notes, was lying ready under a handkerchief on the +countess' little table, and Anna Mikhaylovna noticed that something +was agitating her. + +"Well, my dear?" asked the countess. + +"Oh, what a terrible state he is in! One would not know him, he is +so ill! I was only there a few moments and hardly said a word..." + +"Annette, for heaven's sake don't refuse me," the countess began, +with a blush that looked very strange on her thin, dignified, +elderly face, and she took the money from under the handkerchief. + +Anna Mikhaylovna instantly guessed her intention and stooped to be +ready to embrace the countess at the appropriate moment. + +"This is for Boris from me, for his outfit." + +Anna Mikhaylovna was already embracing her and weeping. The countess +wept too. They wept because they were friends, and because they were +kindhearted, and because they--friends from childhood--had to think +about such a base thing as money, and because their youth was over.... +But those tears were pleasant to them both. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Countess Rostova, with her daughters and a large number of guests, +was already seated in the drawing room. The count took the gentlemen +into his study and showed them his choice collection of Turkish pipes. +From time to time he went out to ask: "Hasn't she come yet?" They were +expecting Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, known in society as le +terrible dragon, a lady distinguished not for wealth or rank, but +for common sense and frank plainness of speech. Marya Dmitrievna was +known to the Imperial family as well as to all Moscow and +Petersburg, and both cities wondered at her, laughed privately at +her rudenesses, and told good stories about her, while none the less +all without exception respected and feared her. + +In the count's room, which was full of tobacco smoke, they talked of +war that had been announced in a manifesto, and about the +recruiting. None of them had yet seen the manifesto, but they all knew +it had appeared. The count sat on the sofa between two guests who were +smoking and talking. He neither smoked nor talked, but bending his +head first to one side and then to the other watched the smokers +with evident pleasure and listened to the conversation of his two +neighbors, whom he egged on against each other. + +One of them was a sallow, clean-shaven civilian with a thin and +wrinkled face, already growing old, though he was dressed like a +most fashionable young man. He sat with his legs up on the sofa as +if quite at home and, having stuck an amber mouthpiece far into his +mouth, was inhaling the smoke spasmodically and screwing up his +eyes. This was an old bachelor, Shinshin, a cousin of the countess', a +man with "a sharp tongue" as they said in Moscow society. He seemed to +be condescending to his companion. The latter, a fresh, rosy officer +of the Guards, irreproachably washed, brushed, and buttoned, held +his pipe in the middle of his mouth and with red lips gently inhaled +the smoke, letting it escape from his handsome mouth in rings. This +was Lieutenant Berg, an officer in the Semenov regiment with whom +Boris was to travel to join the army, and about whom Natasha had, +teased her elder sister Vera, speaking of Berg as her "intended." +The count sat between them and listened attentively. His favorite +occupation when not playing boston, a card game he was very fond of, +was that of listener, especially when he succeeded in setting two +loquacious talkers at one another. + +"Well, then, old chap, mon tres honorable Alphonse Karlovich," +said Shinshin, laughing ironically and mixing the most ordinary +Russian expressions with the choicest French phrases--which was a +peculiarity of his speech. "Vous comptez vous faire des rentes sur +l'etat;* you want to make something out of your company?" + + +*You expect to make an income out of the government. + + +"No, Peter Nikolaevich; I only want to show that in the cavalry +the advantages are far less than in the infantry. Just consider my own +position now, Peter Nikolaevich..." + +Berg always spoke quietly, politely, and with great precision. His +conversation always related entirely to himself; he would remain +calm and silent when the talk related to any topic that had no +direct bearing on himself. He could remain silent for hours without +being at all put out of countenance himself or making others +uncomfortable, but as soon as the conversation concerned himself he +would begin to talk circumstantially and with evident satisfaction. + +"Consider my position, Peter Nikolaevich. Were I in the cavalry I +should get not more than two hundred rubles every four months, even +with the rank of lieutenant; but as it is I receive two hundred and +thirty," said he, looking at Shinshin and the count with a joyful, +pleasant smile, as if it were obvious to him that his success must +always be the chief desire of everyone else. + +"Besides that, Peter Nikolaevich, by exchanging into the Guards I +shall be in a more prominent position," continued Berg, "and vacancies +occur much more frequently in the Foot Guards. Then just think what +can be done with two hundred and thirty rubles! I even manage to put a +little aside and to send something to my father," he went on, emitting +a smoke ring. + +"La balance y est...* A German knows how to skin a flint, as the +proverb says," remarked Shinshin, moving his pipe to the other side of +his mouth and winking at the count. + + +*So that squares matters. + + +The count burst out laughing. The other guests seeing that +Shinshin was talking came up to listen. Berg, oblivious of irony or +indifference, continued to explain how by exchanging into the Guards +he had already gained a step on his old comrades of the Cadet Corps; +how in wartime the company commander might get killed and he, as +senior in the company, might easily succeed to the post; how popular +he was with everyone in the regiment, and how satisfied his father was +with him. Berg evidently enjoyed narrating all this, and did not +seem to suspect that others, too, might have their own interests. +But all he said was so prettily sedate, and the naivete of his +youthful egotism was so obvious, that he disarmed his hearers. + +"Well, my boy, you'll get along wherever you go--foot or horse--that +I'll warrant," said Shinshin, patting him on the shoulder and taking +his feet off the sofa. + +Berg smiled joyously. The count, by his guests, went into the +drawing room. + +It was just the moment before a big dinner when the assembled +guests, expecting the summons to zakuska,* avoid engaging in any +long conversation but think it necessary to move about and talk, in +order to show that they are not at all impatient for their food. The +host and hostess look toward the door, and now and then glance at +one another, and the visitors try to guess from these glances who, +or what, they are waiting for--some important relation who has not yet +arrived, or a dish that is not yet ready. + + +*Hors d'oeuvres. + + +Pierre had come just at dinnertime and was sitting awkwardly in +the middle of the drawing room on the first chair he had come +across, blocking the way for everyone. The countess tried to make +him talk, but he went on naively looking around through his spectacles +as if in search of somebody and answered all her questions in +monosyllables. He was in the way and was the only one who did not +notice the fact. Most of the guests, knowing of the affair with the +bear, looked with curiosity at this big, stout, quiet man, wondering +how such a clumsy, modest fellow could have played such a prank on a +policeman. + +"You have only lately arrived?" the countess asked him. + +"Oui, madame," replied he, looking around him. + +"You have not yet seen my husband?" + +"Non, madame." He smiled quite inappropriately. + +"You have been in Paris recently, I believe? I suppose it's very +interesting." + +"Very interesting." + +The countess exchanged glances with Anna Mikhaylovna. The latter +understood that she was being asked to entertain this young man, and +sitting down beside him she began to speak about his father; but he +answered her, as he had the countess, only in monosyllables. The other +guests were all conversing with one another. "The Razumovskis... It +was charming... You are very kind... Countess Apraksina..." was +heard on all sides. The countess rose and went into the ballroom. + +"Marya Dmitrievna?" came her voice from there. + +"Herself," came the answer in a rough voice, and Marya Dmitrievna +entered the room. + +All the unmarried ladies and even the married ones except the very +oldest rose. Marya Dmitrievna paused at the door. Tall and stout, +holding high her fifty-year-old head with its gray curls, she stood +surveying the guests, and leisurely arranged her wide sleeves as if +rolling them up. Marya Dmitrievna always spoke in Russian. + +"Health and happiness to her whose name day we are keeping and to +her children," she said, in her loud, full-toned voice which drowned +all others. "Well, you old sinner," she went on, turning to the +count who was kissing her hand, "you're feeling dull in Moscow, I +daresay? Nowhere to hunt with your dogs? But what is to be done, old +man? Just see how these nestlings are growing up," and she pointed +to the girls. "You must look for husbands for them whether you like it +or not...." + +"Well," said she, "how's my Cossack?" (Marya Dmitrievna always called +Natasha a Cossack) and she stroked the child's arm as she came up +fearless and gay to kiss her hand. "I know she's a scamp of a girl, +but I like her." + +She took a pair of pear-shaped ruby earrings from her huge +reticule and, having given them to the rosy Natasha, who beamed with +the pleasure of her saint's-day fete, turned away at once and +addressed herself to Pierre. + +"Eh, eh, friend! Come here a bit," said she, assuming a soft high +tone of voice. "Come here, my friend..." and she ominously tucked up +her sleeves still higher. Pierre approached, looking at her in a +childlike way through his spectacles. + +"Come nearer, come nearer, friend! I used to be the only one to tell +your father the truth when he was in favor, and in your case it's my +evident duty." She paused. All were silent, expectant of what was to +follow, for this was dearly only a prelude. + +"A fine lad! My word! A fine lad!... His father lies on his deathbed +and he amuses himself setting a policeman astride a bear! For shame, +sir, for shame! It would be better if you went to the war." + +She turned away and gave her hand to the count, who could hardly +keep from laughing. + +"Well, I suppose it is time we were at table?" said Marya +Dmitrievna. + +The count went in first with Marya Dmitrievna, the countess followed +on the arm of a colonel of hussars, a man of importance to them +because Nicholas was to go with him to the regiment; then came Anna +Mikhaylovna with Shinshin. Berg gave his arm to Vera. The smiling +Julie Karagina went in with Nicholas. After them other couples +followed, filling the whole dining hall, and last of all the children, +tutors, and governesses followed singly. The footmen began moving +about, chairs scraped, the band struck up in the gallery, and the +guests settled down in their places. Then the strains of the count's +household band were replaced by the clatter of knives and forks, the +voices of visitors, and the soft steps of the footmen. At one end of +the table sat the countess with Marya Dmitrievna on her right and Anna +Mikhaylovna on her left, the other lady visitors were farther down. At +the other end sat the count, with the hussar colonel on his left and +Shinshin and the other male visitors on his right. Midway down the +long table on one side sat the grownup young people: Vera beside Berg, +and Pierre beside Boris; and on the other side, the children, +tutors, and governesses. From behind the crystal decanters and fruit +vases the count kept glancing at his wife and her tall cap with its +light-blue ribbons, and busily filled his neighbors' glasses, not +neglecting his own. The countess in turn, without omitting her +duties as hostess, threw significant glances from behind the +pineapples at her husband whose face and bald head seemed by their +redness to contrast more than usual with his gray hair. At the ladies' +end an even chatter of voices was heard all the time, at the men's end +the voices sounded louder and louder, especially that of the colonel +of hussars who, growing more and more flushed, ate and drank so much +that the count held him up as a pattern to the other guests. Berg with +tender smiles was saying to Vera that love is not an earthly but a +heavenly feeling. Boris was telling his new friend Pierre who the +guests were and exchanging glances with Natasha, who was sitting +opposite. Pierre spoke little but examined the new faces, and ate a +great deal. Of the two soups he chose turtle with savory patties and +went on to the game without omitting a single dish or one of the +wines. These latter the butler thrust mysteriously forward, wrapped in +a napkin, from behind the next man's shoulders and whispered: "Dry +Madeira"... "Hungarian"... or "Rhine wine" as the case might be. Of +the four crystal glasses engraved with the count's monogram that stood +before his plate, Pierre held out one at random and drank with +enjoyment, gazing with ever-increasing amiability at the other guests. +Natasha, who sat opposite, was looking at Boris as girls of thirteen +look at the boy they are in love with and have just kissed for the +first time. Sometimes that same look fell on Pierre, and that funny +lively little girl's look made him inclined to laugh without knowing +why. + +Nicholas sat at some distance from Sonya, beside Julie Karagina, +to whom he was again talking with the same involuntary smile. Sonya +wore a company smile but was evidently tormented by jealousy; now +she turned pale, now blushed and strained every nerve to overhear what +Nicholas and Julie were saying to one another. The governess kept +looking round uneasily as if preparing to resent any slight that might +be put upon the children. The German tutor was trying to remember +all the dishes, wines, and kinds of dessert, in order to send a full +description of the dinner to his people in Germany; and he felt +greatly offended when the butler with a bottle wrapped in a napkin +passed him by. He frowned, trying to appear as if he did not want +any of that wine, but was mortified because no one would understand +that it was not to quench his thirst or from greediness that he wanted +it, but simply from a conscientious desire for knowledge. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +At the men's end of the table the talk grew more and more +animated. The colonel told them that the declaration of war had +already appeared in Petersburg and that a copy, which he had himself +seen, had that day been forwarded by courier to the commander in +chief. + +"And why the deuce are we going to fight Bonaparte?" remarked +Shinshin. "He has stopped Austria's cackle and I fear it will be our +turn next." + +The colonel was a stout, tall, plethoric German, evidently devoted +to the service and patriotically Russian. He resented Shinshin's +remark. + +"It is for the reasson, my goot sir," said he, speaking with a +German accent, "for the reasson zat ze Emperor knows zat. He +declares in ze manifessto zat he cannot fiew wiz indifference ze +danger vreatening Russia and zat ze safety and dignity of ze Empire as +vell as ze sanctity of its alliances..." he spoke this last word +with particular emphasis as if in it lay the gist of the matter. + +Then with the unerring official memory that characterized him he +repeated from the opening words of the manifesto: + +... and the wish, which constitutes the Emperor's sole and +absolute aim--to establish peace in Europe on firm foundations--has +now decided him to despatch part of the army abroad and to create a +new condition for the attainment of that purpose. + +"Zat, my dear sir, is vy..." he concluded, drinking a tumbler of +wine with dignity and looking to the count for approval. + +"Connaissez-vous le Proverbe:* 'Jerome, Jerome, do not roam, but +turn spindles at home!'?" said Shinshin, puckering his brows and +smiling. "Cela nous convient a merveille.*[2] Suvorov now--he knew +what he was about; yet they beat him a plate couture,*[3] and where +are we to find Suvorovs now? Je vous demande un peu,"*[4] said he, +continually changing from French to Russian. + + +*Do you know the proverb? + +*[2] That suits us down to the ground. + +*[3] Hollow. + +*[4] I just ask you that. + + +"Ve must vight to the last tr-r-op of our plood!" said the +colonel, thumping the table; "and ve must tie for our Emperor, and zen +all vill pe vell. And ve must discuss it as little as po-o-ossible"... +he dwelt particularly on the word possible... "as po-o-ossible," he +ended, again turning to the count. "Zat is how ve old hussars look +at it, and zere's an end of it! And how do you, a young man and a +young hussar, how do you judge of it?" he added, addressing +Nicholas, who when he heard that the war was being discussed had +turned from his partner with eyes and ears intent on the colonel. + +"I am quite of your opinion," replied Nicholas, flaming up, +turning his plate round and moving his wineglasses about with as +much decision and desperation as though he were at that moment +facing some great danger. "I am convinced that we Russians must die or +conquer," he concluded, conscious--as were others--after the words +were uttered that his remarks were too enthusiastic and emphatic for +the occasion and were therefore awkward. + +"What you said just now was splendid!" said his partner Julie. + +Sonya trembled all over and blushed to her ears and behind them +and down to her neck and shoulders while Nicholas was speaking. + +Pierre listened to the colonel's speech and nodded approvingly. + +"That's fine," said he. + +"The young man's a real hussar!" shouted the colonel, again thumping +the table. + +"What are you making such a noise about over there?" Marya +Dmitrievna's deep voice suddenly inquired from the other end of the +table. "What are you thumping the table for?" she demanded of the +hussar, "and why are you exciting yourself? Do you think the French +are here?" + +"I am speaking ze truce," replied the hussar with a smile. + +"It's all about the war," the count shouted down the table. "You +know my son's going, Marya Dmitrievna? My son is going." + +"I have four sons in the army but still I don't fret. It is all in +God's hands. You may die in your bed or God may spare you in a +battle," replied Marya Dmitrievna's deep voice, which easily carried +the whole length of the table. + +"That's true!" + +Once more the conversations concentrated, the ladies' at the one end +and the men's at the other. + +"You won't ask," Natasha's little brother was saying; "I know you +won't ask!" + +"I will," replied Natasha. + +Her face suddenly flushed with reckless and joyous resolution. She +half rose, by a glance inviting Pierre, who sat opposite, to listen to +what was coming, and turning to her mother: + +"Mamma!" rang out the clear contralto notes of her childish voice, +audible the whole length of the table. + +"What is it?" asked the countess, startled; but seeing by her +daughter's face that it was only mischief, she shook a finger at her +sternly with a threatening and forbidding movement of her head. + +The conversation was hushed. + +"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" and Natasha's voice +sounded still more firm and resolute. + +The countess tried to frown, but could not. Marya Dmitrievna shook +her fat finger. + +"Cossack!" she said threateningly. + +Most of the guests, uncertain how to regard this sally, looked at +the elders. + +"You had better take care!" said the countess. + +"Mamma! What sweets are we going to have?" Natasha again cried +boldly, with saucy gaiety, confident that her prank would be taken +in good part. + +Sonya and fat little Petya doubled up with laughter. + +"You see! I have asked," whispered Natasha to her little brother and +to Pierre, glancing at him again. + +"Ice pudding, but you won't get any," said Marya Dmitrievna. + +Natasha saw there was nothing to be afraid of and so she braved even +Marya Dmitrievna. + +"Marya Dmitrievna! What kind of ice pudding? I don't like ice +cream." + +"Carrot ices." + +"No! What kind, Marya Dmitrievna? What kind?" she almost screamed; +"I want to know!" + +Marya Dmitrievna and the countess burst out laughing, and all the +guests joined in. Everyone laughed, not at Marya Dmitrievna's answer +but at the incredible boldness and smartness of this little girl who +had dared to treat Marya Dmitrievna in this fashion. + +Natasha only desisted when she had been told that there would be +pineapple ice. Before the ices, champagne was served round. The band +again struck up, the count and countess kissed, and the guests, +leaving their seats, went up to "congratulate" the countess, and +reached across the table to clink glasses with the count, with the +children, and with one another. Again the footmen rushed about, chairs +scraped, and in the same order in which they had entered but with +redder faces, the guests returned to the drawing room and to the +count's study. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +The card tables were drawn out, sets made up for boston, and the +count's visitors settled themselves, some in the two drawing rooms, +some in the sitting room, some in the library. + +The count, holding his cards fanwise, kept himself with difficulty +from dropping into his usual after-dinner nap, and laughed at +everything. The young people, at the countess' instigation, gathered +round the clavichord and harp. Julie by general request played +first. After she had played a little air with variations on the +harp, she joined the other young ladies in begging Natasha and +Nicholas, who were noted for their musical talent, to sing +something. Natasha, who was treated as though she were grown up, was +evidently very proud of this but at the same time felt shy. + +"What shall we sing?" she said. + +"'The Brook,'" suggested Nicholas. + +"Well, then, let's be quick. Boris, come here," said Natasha. "But +where is Sonya?" + +She looked round and seeing that her friend was not in the room +ran to look for her. + +Running into Sonya's room and not finding her there, Natasha ran +to the nursery, but Sonya was not there either. Natasha concluded that +she must be on the chest in the passage. The chest in the passage +was the place of mourning for the younger female generation in the +Rostov household. And there in fact was Sonya lying face downward on +Nurse's dirty feather bed on the top of the chest, crumpling her gauzy +pink dress under her, hiding her face with her slender fingers, and +sobbing so convulsively that her bare little shoulders shook. +Natasha's face, which had been so radiantly happy all that saint's +day, suddenly changed: her eyes became fixed, and then a shiver passed +down her broad neck and the corners of her mouth drooped. + +"Sonya! What is it? What is the matter?... Oo... Oo... Oo...!" And +Natasha's large mouth widened, making her look quite ugly, and she +began to wail like a baby without knowing why, except that Sonya was +crying. Sonya tried to lift her head to answer but could not, and +hid her face still deeper in the bed. Natasha wept, sitting on the +blue-striped feather bed and hugging her friend. With an effort +Sonya sat up and began wiping her eyes and explaining. + +"Nicholas is going away in a week's time, his... papers... have +come... he told me himself... but still I should not cry," and she +showed a paper she held in her hand--with the verses Nicholas had +written, "still, I should not cry, but you can't... no one can +understand... what a soul he has!" + +And she began to cry again because he had such a noble soul. + +"It's all very well for you... I am not envious... I love you and +Boris also," she went on, gaining a little strength; "he is nice... +there are no difficulties in your way.... But Nicholas is my cousin... +one would have to... the Metropolitan himself... and even then it +can't be done. And besides, if she tells Mamma" (Sonya looked upon the +countess as her mother and called her so) "that I am spoiling +Nicholas' career and am heartless and ungrateful, while truly... God +is my witness," and she made the sign of the cross, "I love her so +much, and all of you, only Vera... And what for? What have I done to +her? I am so grateful to you that I would willingly sacrifice +everything, only I have nothing...." + +Sonya could not continue, and again hid her face in her hands and in +the feather bed. Natasha began consoling her, but her face showed that +she understood all the gravity of her friend's trouble. + +"Sonya," she suddenly exclaimed, as if she had guessed the true +reason of her friend's sorrow, "I'm sure Vera has said something to +you since dinner? Hasn't she?" + +"Yes, these verses Nicholas wrote himself and I copied some +others, and she found them on my table and said she'd show them to +Mamma, and that I was ungrateful, and that Mamma would never allow him +to marry me, but that he'll marry Julie. You see how he's been with +her all day... Natasha, what have I done to deserve it?..." + +And again she began to sob, more bitterly than before. Natasha +lifted her up, hugged her, and, smiling through her tears, began +comforting her. + +"Sonya, don't believe her, darling! Don't believe her! Do you +remember how we and Nicholas, all three of us, talked in the sitting +room after supper? Why, we settled how everything was to be. I don't +quite remember how, but don't you remember that it could all be +arranged and how nice it all was? There's Uncle Shinshin's brother has +married his first cousin. And we are only second cousins, you know. +And Boris says it is quite possible. You know I have told him all +about it. And he is so clever and so good!" said Natasha. "Don't you +cry, Sonya, dear love, darling Sonya!" and she kissed her and laughed. +"Vera's spiteful; never mind her! And all will come right and she +won't say anything to Mamma. Nicholas will tell her himself, and he +doesn't care at all for Julie." + +Natasha kissed her on the hair. + +Sonya sat up. The little kitten brightened, its eyes shone, and it +seemed ready to lift its tail, jump down on its soft paws, and begin +playing with the ball of worsted as a kitten should. + +"Do you think so?... Really? Truly?" she said, quickly smoothing her +frock and hair. + +"Really, truly!" answered Natasha, pushing in a crisp lock that +had strayed from under her friend's plaits. + +Both laughed. + +"Well, let's go and sing 'The Brook.'" + +"Come along!" + +"Do you know, that fat Pierre who sat opposite me is so funny!" said +Natasha, stopping suddenly. "I feel so happy!" + +And she set off at a run along the passage. + +Sonya, shaking off some down which clung to her and tucking away the +verses in the bosom of her dress close to her bony little chest, ran +after Natasha down the passage into the sitting room with flushed face +and light, joyous steps. At the visitors' request the young people +sang the quartette, "The Brook," with which everyone was delighted. +Then Nicholas sang a song he had just learned: + + + At nighttime in the moon's fair glow + How sweet, as fancies wander free, + To feel that in this world there's one + Who still is thinking but of thee! + + That while her fingers touch the harp + Wafting sweet music o'er the lea, + It is for thee thus swells her heart, + Sighing its message out to thee... + + A day or two, then bliss unspoilt, + But oh! till then I cannot live!... + + +He had not finished the last verse before the young people began +to get ready to dance in the large hall, and the sound of the feet and +the coughing of the musicians were heard from the gallery. + + +Pierre was sitting in the drawing-room where Shinshin had engaged +him, as a man recently returned from abroad, in a political +conversation in which several others joined but which bored Pierre. +When the music began Natasha came in and walking straight up to Pierre +said, laughing and blushing: + +"Mamma told me to ask you to join the dancers." + +"I am afraid of mixing the figures," Pierre replied; "but if you +will be my teacher..." And lowering his big arm he offered it to the +slender little girl. + +While the couples were arranging themselves and the musicians tuning +up, Pierre sat down with his little partner. Natasha was perfectly +happy; she was dancing with a grown-up man, who had been abroad. She +was sitting in a conspicuous place and talking to him like a +grown-up lady. She had a fan in her hand that one of the ladies had +given her to hold. Assuming quite the pose of a society woman +(heaven knows when and where she had learned it) she talked with her +partner, fanning herself and smiling over the fan. + +"Dear, dear! Just look at her!" exclaimed the countess as she +crossed the ballroom, pointing to Natasha. + +Natasha blushed and laughed. + +"Well, really, Mamma! Why should you? What is there to be +surprised at?" + + +In the midst of the third ecossaise there was a clatter of chairs +being pushed back in the sitting room where the count and Marya +Dmitrievna had been playing cards with the majority of the more +distinguished and older visitors. They now, stretching themselves +after sitting so long, and replacing their purses and pocketbooks, +entered the ballroom. First came Marya Dmitrievna and the count, +both with merry countenances. The count, with playful ceremony +somewhat in ballet style, offered his bent arm to Marya Dmitrievna. He +drew himself up, a smile of debonair gallantry lit up his face and +as soon as the last figure of the ecossaise was ended, he clapped +his hands to the musicians and shouted up to their gallery, addressing +the first violin: + +"Semen! Do you know the Daniel Cooper?" + +This was the count's favorite dance, which he had danced in his +youth. (Strictly speaking, Daniel Cooper was one figure of the +anglaise.) + +"Look at Papa!" shouted Natasha to the whole company, and quite +forgetting that she was dancing with a grown-up partner she bent her +curly head to her knees and made the whole room ring with her +laughter. + +And indeed everybody in the room looked with a smile of pleasure +at the jovial old gentleman, who standing beside his tall and stout +partner, Marya Dmitrievna, curved his arms, beat time, straightened +his shoulders, turned out his toes, tapped gently with his foot, +and, by a smile that broadened his round face more and more, +prepared the onlookers for what was to follow. As soon as the +provocatively gay strains of Daniel Cooper (somewhat resembling +those of a merry peasant dance) began to sound, all the doorways of +the ballroom were suddenly filled by the domestic serfs--the men on +one side and the women on the other--who with beaming faces had come +to see their master making merry. + +"Just look at the master! A regular eagle he is!" loudly remarked +the nurse, as she stood in one of the doorways. + +The count danced well and knew it. But his partner could not and did +not want to dance well. Her enormous figure stood erect, her +powerful arms hanging down (she had handed her reticule to the +countess), and only her stern but handsome face really joined in the +dance. What was expressed by the whole of the count's plump figure, in +Marya Dmitrievna found expression only in her more and more beaming +face and quivering nose. But if the count, getting more and more +into the swing of it, charmed the spectators by the unexpectedness +of his adroit maneuvers and the agility with which he capered about on +his light feet, Marya Dmitrievna produced no less impression by slight +exertions--the least effort to move her shoulders or bend her arms +when turning, or stamp her foot--which everyone appreciated in view of +her size and habitual severity. The dance grew livelier and +livelier. The other couples could not attract a moment's attention +to their own evolutions and did not even try to do so. All were +watching the count and Marya Dmitrievna. Natasha kept pulling everyone +by sleeve or dress, urging them to "look at Papa!" though as it was +they never took their eyes off the couple. In the intervals of the +dance the count, breathing deeply, waved and shouted to the +musicians to play faster. Faster, faster, and faster; lightly, more +lightly, and yet more lightly whirled the count, flying round Marya +Dmitrievna, now on his toes, now on his heels; until, turning his +partner round to her seat, he executed the final pas, raising his soft +foot backwards, bowing his perspiring head, smiling and making a +wide sweep with his arm, amid a thunder of applause and laughter led +by Natasha. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily and wiping +their faces with their cambric handkerchiefs. + +"That's how we used to dance in our time, ma chere," said the count. + +"That was a Daniel Cooper!" exclaimed Marya Dmitrievna, tucking up +her sleeves and puffing heavily. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +While in the Rostovs' ballroom the sixth anglaise was being +danced, to a tune in which the weary musicians blundered, and while +tired footmen and cooks were getting the supper, Count Bezukhov had +a sixth stroke. The doctors pronounced recovery impossible. After a +mute confession, communion was administered to the dying man, +preparations made for the sacrament of unction, and in his house there +was the bustle and thrill of suspense usual at such moments. Outside +the house, beyond the gates, a group of undertakers, who hid +whenever a carriage drove up, waited in expectation of an important +order for an expensive funeral. The Military Governor of Moscow, who +had been assiduous in sending aides-de-camp to inquire after the +count's health, came himself that evening to bid a last farewell to +the celebrated grandee of Catherine's court, Count Bezukhov. + +The magnificent reception room was crowded. Everyone stood up +respectfully when the Military Governor, having stayed about half an +hour alone with the dying man, passed out, slightly acknowledging +their bows and trying to escape as quickly as possible from the +glances fixed on him by the doctors, clergy, and relatives of the +family. Prince Vasili, who had grown thinner and paler during the last +few days, escorted him to the door, repeating something to him several +times in low tones. + +When the Military Governor had gone, Prince Vasili sat down all +alone on a chair in the ballroom, crossing one leg high over the +other, leaning his elbow on his knee and covering his face with his +hand. After sitting so for a while he rose, and, looking about him +with frightened eyes, went with unusually hurried steps down the +long corridor leading to the back of the house, to the room of the +eldest princess. + +Those who were in the dimly lit reception room spoke in nervous +whispers, and, whenever anyone went into or came from the dying +man's room, grew silent and gazed with eyes full of curiosity or +expectancy at his door, which creaked slightly when opened. + +"The limits of human life... are fixed and may not be o'erpassed," +said an old priest to a lady who had taken a seat beside him and was +listening naively to his words. + +"I wonder, is it not too late to administer unction?" asked the +lady, adding the priest's clerical title, as if she had no opinion +of her own on the subject. + +"Ah, madam, it is a great sacrament," replied the priest, passing +his hand over the thin grizzled strands of hair combed back across his +bald head. + +"Who was that? The Military Governor himself?" was being asked at +the other side of the room. "How young-looking he is!" + +"Yes, and he is over sixty. I hear the count no longer recognizes +anyone. They wished to administer the sacrament of unction." + +"I knew someone who received that sacrament seven times." + +The second princess had just come from the sickroom with her eyes +red from weeping and sat down beside Dr. Lorrain, who was sitting in a +graceful pose under a portrait of Catherine, leaning his elbow on a +table. + +"Beautiful," said the doctor in answer to a remark about the +weather. "The weather is beautiful, Princess; and besides, in Moscow +one feels as if one were in the country." + +"Yes, indeed," replied the princess with a sigh. "So he may have +something to drink?" + +Lorrain considered. + +"Has he taken his medicine?" + +"Yes." + +The doctor glanced at his watch. + +"Take a glass of boiled water and put a pinch of cream of tartar," +and he indicated with his delicate fingers what he meant by a pinch. + +"Dere has neffer been a gase," a German doctor was saying to an +aide-de-camp, "dat one liffs after de sird stroke." + +"And what a well-preserved man he was!" remarked the aide-de-camp. +"And who will inherit his wealth?" he added in a whisper. + +"It von't go begging," replied the German with a smile. + +Everyone again looked toward the door, which creaked as the second +princess went in with the drink she had prepared according to +Lorrain's instructions. The German doctor went up to Lorrain. + +"Do you think he can last till morning?" asked the German, +addressing Lorrain in French which he pronounced badly. + +Lorrain, pursing up his lips, waved a severely negative finger +before his nose. + +"Tonight, not later," said he in a low voice, and he moved away with +a decorous smile of self-satisfaction at being able clearly to +understand and state the patient's condition. + + +Meanwhile Prince Vasili had opened the door into the princess' room. + +In this room it was almost dark; only two tiny lamps were burning +before the icons and there was a pleasant scent of flowers and burnt +pastilles. The room was crowded with small pieces of furniture, +whatnots, cupboards, and little tables. The quilt of a high, white +feather bed was just visible behind a screen. A small dog began to +bark. + +"Ah, is it you, cousin?" + +She rose and smoothed her hair, which was as usual so extremely +smooth that it seemed to be made of one piece with her head and +covered with varnish. + +"Has anything happened?" she asked. "I am so terrified." + +"No, there is no change. I only came to have a talk about +business, Catiche,"* muttered the prince, seating himself wearily on +the chair she had just vacated. "You have made the place warm, I +must say," he remarked. "Well, sit down: let's have a talk." + + +*Catherine. + + +"I thought perhaps something had happened," she said with her +unchanging stonily severe expression; and, sitting down opposite the +prince, she prepared to listen. + +"I wished to get a nap, mon cousin, but I can't." + +"Well, my dear?" said Prince Vasili, taking her hand and bending +it downwards as was his habit. + +It was plain that this "well?" referred to much that they both +understood without naming. + +The princess, who had a straight, rigid body, abnormally long for +her legs, looked directly at Prince Vasili with no sign of emotion +in her prominent gray eyes. Then she shook her head and glanced up +at the icons with a sigh. This might have been taken as an +expression of sorrow and devotion, or of weariness and hope of resting +before long. Prince Vasili understood it as an expression of +weariness. + +"And I?" he said; "do you think it is easier for me? I am as worn +out as a post horse, but still I must have a talk with you, Catiche, a +very serious talk." + +Prince Vasili said no more and his cheeks began to twitch nervously, +now on one side, now on the other, giving his face an unpleasant +expression which was never to be seen on it in a drawing room. His +eyes too seemed strange; at one moment they looked impudently sly +and at the next glanced round in alarm. + +The princess, holding her little dog on her lap with her thin bony +hands, looked attentively into Prince Vasili's eyes evidently resolved +not to be the first to break silence, if she had to wait till morning. + +"Well, you see, my dear princess and cousin, Catherine Semenovna," +continued Prince Vasili, returning to his theme, apparently not +without an inner struggle; "at such a moment as this one must think of +everything. One must think of the future, of all of you... I love +you all, like children of my own, as you know." + +The princess continued to look at him without moving, and with the +same dull expression. + +"And then of course my family has also to be considered," Prince +Vasili went on, testily pushing away a little table without looking at +her. "You know, Catiche, that we--you three sisters, Mamontov, and +my wife--are the count's only direct heirs. I know, I know how hard it +is for you to talk or think of such matters. It is no easier for me; +but, my dear, I am getting on for sixty and must be prepared for +anything. Do you know I have sent for Pierre? The count," pointing +to his portrait, "definitely demanded that he should be called." + +Prince Vasili looked questioningly at the princess, but could not +make out whether she was considering what he had just said or +whether she was simply looking at him. + +"There is one thing I constantly pray God to grant, mon cousin," she +replied, "and it is that He would be merciful to him and would allow +his noble soul peacefully to leave this..." + +"Yes, yes, of course," interrupted Prince Vasili impatiently, +rubbing his bald head and angrily pulling back toward him the little +table that he had pushed away. "But... in short, the fact is... you +know yourself that last winter the count made a will by which he +left all his property, not to us his direct heirs, but to Pierre." + +"He has made wills enough!" quietly remarked the princess. "But he +cannot leave the estate to Pierre. Pierre is illegitimate." + +"But, my dear," said Prince Vasili suddenly, clutching the little +table and becoming more animated and talking more rapidly: "what if +a letter has been written to the Emperor in which the count asks for +Pierre's legitimation? Do you understand that in consideration of +the count's services, his request would be granted?..." + +The princess smiled as people do who think they know more about +the subject under discussion than those they are talking with. + +"I can tell you more," continued Prince Vasili, seizing her hand, +"that letter was written, though it was not sent, and the Emperor knew +of it. The only question is, has it been destroyed or not? If not, +then as soon as all is over," and Prince Vasili sighed to intimate +what he meant by the words all is over, "and the count's papers are +opened, the will and letter will be delivered to the Emperor, and +the petition will certainly be granted. Pierre will get everything +as the legitimate son." + +"And our share?" asked the princess smiling ironically, as if +anything might happen, only not that. + +"But, my poor Catiche, it is as clear as daylight! He will then be +the legal heir to everything and you won't get anything. You must +know, my dear, whether the will and letter were written, and whether +they have been destroyed or not. And if they have somehow been +overlooked, you ought to know where they are, and must find them, +because..." + +"What next?" the princess interrupted, smiling sardonically and +not changing the expression of her eyes. "I am a woman, and you +think we are all stupid; but I know this: an illegitimate son cannot +inherit... un batard!"* she added, as if supposing that this +translation of the word would effectively prove to Prince Vasili the +invalidity of his contention. + + +*A bastard. + + +"Well, really, Catiche! Can't you understand! You are so +intelligent, how is it you don't see that if the count has written a +letter to the Emperor begging him to recognize Pierre as legitimate, +it follows that Pierre will not be Pierre but will become Count +Bezukhov, and will then inherit everything under the will? And if +the will and letter are not destroyed, then you will have nothing +but the consolation of having been dutiful et tout ce qui s'ensuit!* +That's certain." + + +*And all that follows therefrom. + + +"I know the will was made, but I also know that it is invalid; and +you, mon cousin, seem to consider me a perfect fool," said the +princess with the expression women assume when they suppose they are +saying something witty and stinging. + +"My dear Princess Catherine Semenovna," began Prince Vasili +impatiently, "I came here not to wrangle with you, but to talk about +your interests as with a kinswoman, a good, kind, true relation. And I +tell you for the tenth time that if the letter to the Emperor and +the will in Pierre's favor are among the count's papers, then, my dear +girl, you and your sisters are not heiresses! If you don't believe me, +then believe an expert. I have just been talking to Dmitri Onufrich" +(the family solicitor) "and he says the same." + +At this a sudden change evidently took place in the princess' ideas; +her thin lips grew white, though her eyes did not change, and her +voice when she began to speak passed through such transitions as she +herself evidently did not expect. + +"That would be a fine thing!" said she. "I never wanted anything and +I don't now." + +She pushed the little dog off her lap and smoothed her dress. + +"And this is gratitude--this is recognition for those who have +sacrificed everything for his sake!" she cried. "It's splendid! +Fine! I don't want anything, Prince." + +"Yes, but you are not the only one. There are your sisters..." +replied Prince Vasili. + +But the princess did not listen to him. + +"Yes, I knew it long ago but had forgotten. I knew that I could +expect nothing but meanness, deceit, envy, intrigue, and +ingratitude--the blackest ingratitude--in this house..." + +"Do you or do you not know where that will is?" insisted Prince +Vasili, his cheeks twitching more than ever. + +"Yes, I was a fool! I still believed in people, loved them, and +sacrificed myself. But only the base, the vile succeed! I know who has +been intriguing!" + +The princess wished to rise, but the prince held her by the hand. +She had the air of one who has suddenly lost faith in the whole +human race. She gave her companion an angry glance. + +"There is still time, my dear. You must remember, Catiche, that it +was all done casually in a moment of anger, of illness, and was +afterwards forgotten. Our duty, my dear, is to rectify his mistake, to +ease his last moments by not letting him commit this injustice, and +not to let him die feeling that he is rendering unhappy those who..." + +"Who sacrificed everything for him," chimed in the princess, who +would again have risen had not the prince still held her fast, "though +he never could appreciate it. No, mon cousin," she added with a +sigh, "I shall always remember that in this world one must expect no +reward, that in this world there is neither honor nor justice. In this +world one has to be cunning and cruel." + +"Now come, come! Be reasonable. I know your excellent heart." + +"No, I have a wicked heart." + +"I know your heart," repeated the prince. "I value your friendship +and wish you to have as good an opinion of me. Don't upset yourself, +and let us talk sensibly while there is still time, be it a day or +be it but an hour.... Tell me all you know about the will, and above +all where it is. You must know. We will take it at once and show it to +the count. He has, no doubt, forgotten it and will wish to destroy it. +You understand that my sole desire is conscientiously to carry out his +wishes; that is my only reason for being here. I came simply to help +him and you." + +"Now I see it all! I know who has been intriguing--I know!" cried +the princess. + +"That's not the point, my dear." + +"It's that protege of yours, that sweet Princess Drubetskaya, that +Anna Mikhaylovna whom I would not take for a housemaid... the +infamous, vile woman!" + +"Do not let us lose any time..." + +"Ah, don't talk to me! Last winter she wheedled herself in here +and told the count such vile, disgraceful things about us, +especially about Sophie--I can't repeat them--that it made the count +quite ill and he would not see us for a whole fortnight. I know it was +then he wrote this vile, infamous paper, but I thought the thing was +invalid." + +"We've got to it at last--why did you not tell me about it sooner?" + +"It's in the inlaid portfolio that he keeps under his pillow," +said the princess, ignoring his question. "Now I know! Yes; if I +have a sin, a great sin, it is hatred of that vile woman!" almost +shrieked the princess, now quite changed. "And what does she come +worming herself in here for? But I will give her a piece of my mind. +The time will come!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +While these conversations were going on in the reception room and +the princess' room, a carriage containing Pierre (who had been sent +for) and Anna Mikhaylovna (who found it necessary to accompany him) +was driving into the court of Count Bezukhov's house. As the wheels +rolled softly over the straw beneath the windows, Anna Mikhaylovna, +having turned with words of comfort to her companion, realized that he +was asleep in his corner and woke him up. Rousing himself, Pierre +followed Anna Mikhaylovna out of the carriage, and only then began +to think of the interview with his dying father which awaited him. +He noticed that they had not come to the front entrance but to the +back door. While he was getting down from the carriage steps two +men, who looked like tradespeople, ran hurriedly from the entrance and +hid in the shadow of the wall. Pausing for a moment, Pierre noticed +several other men of the same kind hiding in the shadow of the house +on both sides. But neither Anna Mikhaylovna nor the footman nor the +coachman, who could not help seeing these people, took any notice of +them. "It seems to be all right," Pierre concluded, and followed +Anna Mikhaylovna. She hurriedly ascended the narrow dimly lit stone +staircase, calling to Pierre, who was lagging behind, to follow. +Though he did not see why it was necessary for him to go to the +count at all, still less why he had to go by the back stairs, yet +judging by Anna Mikhaylovna's air of assurance and haste, Pierre +concluded that it was all absolutely necessary. Halfway up the +stairs they were almost knocked over by some men who, carrying +pails, came running downstairs, their boots clattering. These men +pressed close to the wall to let Pierre and Anna Mikhaylovna pass +and did not evince the least surprise at seeing them there. + +"Is this the way to the princesses' apartments?" asked Anna +Mikhaylovna of one of them. + +"Yes," replied a footman in a bold loud voice, as if anything were +now permissible; "the door to the left, ma'am." + +"Perhaps the count did not ask for me," said Pierre when he +reached the landing. "I'd better go to my own room." + +Anna Mikhaylovna paused and waited for him to come up. + +"Ah, my friend!" she said, touching his arm as she had done her +son's when speaking to him that afternoon, "believe me I suffer no +less than you do, but be a man!" + +"But really, hadn't I better go away?" he asked, looking kindly at +her over his spectacles. + +"Ah, my dear friend! Forget the wrongs that may have been done +you. Think that he is your father... perhaps in the agony of death." +She sighed. "I have loved you like a son from the first. Trust +yourself to me, Pierre. I shall not forget your interests." + +Pierre did not understand a word, but the conviction that all this +had to be grew stronger, and he meekly followed Anna Mikhaylovna who +was already opening a door. + +This door led into a back anteroom. An old man, a servant of the +princesses, sat in a corner knitting a stocking. Pierre had never been +in this part of the house and did not even know of the existence of +these rooms. Anna Mikhaylovna, addressing a maid who was hurrying past +with a decanter on a tray as "my dear" and "my sweet," asked about the +princess' health and then led Pierre along a stone passage. The +first door on the left led into the princesses' apartments. The maid +with the decanter in her haste had not closed the door (everything +in the house was done in haste at that time), and Pierre and Anna +Mikhaylovna in passing instinctively glanced into the room, where +Prince Vasili and the eldest princess were sitting close together +talking. Seeing them pass, Prince Vasili drew back with obvious +impatience, while the princess jumped up and with a gesture of +desperation slammed the door with all her might. + +This action was so unlike her usual composure and the fear +depicted on Prince Vasili's face so out of keeping with his dignity +that Pierre stopped and glanced inquiringly over his spectacles at his +guide. Anna Mikhaylovna evinced no surprise, she only smiled faintly +and sighed, as if to say that this was no more than she had expected. + +"Be a man, my friend. I will look after your interests," said she in +reply to his look, and went still faster along the passage. + +Pierre could not make out what it was all about, and still less what +"watching over his interests" meant, but he decided that all these +things had to be. From the passage they went into a large, dimly lit +room adjoining the count's reception room. It was one of those +sumptuous but cold apartments known to Pierre only from the front +approach, but even in this room there now stood an empty bath, and +water had been spilled on the carpet. They were met by a deacon with a +censer and by a servant who passed out on tiptoe without heeding them. +They went into the reception room familiar to Pierre, with two Italian +windows opening into the conservatory, with its large bust and full +length portrait of Catherine the Great. The same people were still +sitting here in almost the same positions as before, whispering to one +another. All became silent and turned to look at the pale tear-worn +Anna Mikhaylovna as she entered, and at the big stout figure of Pierre +who, hanging his head, meekly followed her. + +Anna Mikhaylovna's face expressed a consciousness that the +decisive moment had arrived. With the air of a practical Petersburg +lady she now, keeping Pierre close beside her, entered the room even +more boldly than that afternoon. She felt that as she brought with her +the person the dying man wished to see, her own admission was assured. +Casting a rapid glance at all those in the room and noticing the +count's confessor there, she glided up to him with a sort of amble, +not exactly bowing yet seeming to grow suddenly smaller, and +respectfully received the blessing first of one and then of another +priest. + +"God be thanked that you are in time," said she to one of the +priests; "all we relatives have been in such anxiety. This young man +is the count's son," she added more softly. "What a terrible moment!" + +Having said this she went up to the doctor. + +"Dear doctor," said she, "this young man is the count's son. Is +there any hope?" + +The doctor cast a rapid glance upwards and silently shrugged his +shoulders. Anna Mikhaylovna with just the same movement raised her +shoulders and eyes, almost closing the latter, sighed, and moved +away from the doctor to Pierre. To him, in a particularly respectful +and tenderly sad voice, she said: + +"Trust in His mercy!" and pointing out a small sofa for him to sit +and wait for her, she went silently toward the door that everyone +was watching and it creaked very slightly as she disappeared behind +it. + +Pierre, having made up his mind to obey his monitress implicitly, +moved toward the sofa she had indicated. As soon as Anna Mikhaylovna +had disappeared he noticed that the eyes of all in the room turned +to him with something more than curiosity and sympathy. He noticed +that they whispered to one another, casting significant looks at him +with a kind of awe and even servility. A deference such as he had +never before received was shown him. A strange lady, the one who had +been talking to the priests, rose and offered him her seat; an +aide-de-camp picked up and returned a glove Pierre had dropped; the +doctors became respectfully silent as he passed by, and moved to +make way for him. At first Pierre wished to take another seat so as +not to trouble the lady, and also to pick up the glove himself and +to pass round the doctors who were not even in his way; but all at +once he felt that this would not do, and that tonight he was a +person obliged to perform some sort of awful rite which everyone +expected of him, and that he was therefore bound to accept their +services. He took the glove in silence from the aide-de-camp, and +sat down in the lady's chair, placing his huge hands symmetrically +on his knees in the naive attitude of an Egyptian statue, and +decided in his own mind that all was as it should be, and that in +order not to lose his head and do foolish things he must not act on +his own ideas tonight, but must yield himself up entirely to the +will of those who were guiding him. + +Not two minutes had passed before Prince Vasili with head erect +majestically entered the room. He was wearing his long coat with three +stars on his breast. He seemed to have grown thinner since the +morning; his eyes seemed larger than usual when he glanced round and +noticed Pierre. He went up to him, took his hand (a thing he never +used to do), and drew it downwards as if wishing to ascertain +whether it was firmly fixed on. + +"Courage, courage, my friend! He has asked to see you. That is +well!" and he turned to go. + +But Pierre thought it necessary to ask: "How is..." and hesitated, +not knowing whether it would be proper to call the dying man "the +count," yet ashamed to call him "father." + +"He had another stroke about half an hour ago. Courage, my +friend..." + +Pierre's mind was in such a confused state that the word "stroke" +suggested to him a blow from something. He looked at Prince Vasili +in perplexity, and only later grasped that a stroke was an attack of +illness. Prince Vasili said something to Lorrain in passing and went +through the door on tiptoe. He could not walk well on tiptoe and his +whole body jerked at each step. The eldest princess followed him, +and the priests and deacons and some servants also went in at the +door. Through that door was heard a noise of things being moved about, +and at last Anna Mikhaylovna, still with the same expression, pale but +resolute in the discharge of duty, ran out and touching Pierre lightly +on the arm said: + +"The divine mercy is inexhaustible! Unction is about to be +administered. Come." + +Pierre went in at the door, stepping on the soft carpet, and noticed +that the strange lady, the aide-de-camp, and some of the servants, all +followed him in, as if there were now no further need for permission +to enter that room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Pierre well knew this large room divided by columns and an arch, its +walls hung round with Persian carpets. The part of the room behind the +columns, with a high silk-curtained mahogany bedstead on one side +and on the other an immense case containing icons, was brightly +illuminated with red light like a Russian church during evening +service. Under the gleaming icons stood a long invalid chair, and in +that chair on snowy-white smooth pillows, evidently freshly changed, +Pierre saw--covered to the waist by a bright green quilt--the +familiar, majestic figure of his father, Count Bezukhov, with that +gray mane of hair above his broad forehead which reminded one of a +lion, and the deep characteristically noble wrinkles of his +handsome, ruddy face. He lay just under the icons; his large thick +hands outside the quilt. Into the right hand, which was lying palm +downwards, a wax taper had been thrust between forefinger and thumb, +and an old servant, bending over from behind the chair, held it in +position. By the chair stood the priests, their long hair falling over +their magnificent glittering vestments, with lighted tapers in their +hands, slowly and solemnly conducting the service. A little behind +them stood the two younger princesses holding handkerchiefs to their +eyes, and just in front of them their eldest sister, Catiche, with a +vicious and determined look steadily fixed on the icons, as though +declaring to all that she could not answer for herself should she +glance round. Anna Mikhaylovna, with a meek, sorrowful, and +all-forgiving expression on her face, stood by the door near the +strange lady. Prince Vasili in front of the door, near the invalid +chair, a wax taper in his left hand, was leaning his left arm on the +carved back of a velvet chair he had turned round for the purpose, and +was crossing himself with his right hand, turning his eyes upward each +time he touched his forehead. His face wore a calm look of piety and +resignation to the will of God. "If you do not understand these +sentiments," he seemed to be saying, "so much the worse for you!" + +Behind him stood the aide-de-camp, the doctors, and the menservants; +the men and women had separated as in church. All were silently +crossing themselves, and the reading of the church service, the +subdued chanting of deep bass voices, and in the intervals sighs and +the shuffling of feet were the only sounds that could be heard. Anna +Mikhaylovna, with an air of importance that showed that she felt she +quite knew what she was about, went across the room to where Pierre +was standing and gave him a taper. He lit it and, distracted by +observing those around him, began crossing himself with the hand +that held the taper. + +Sophie, the rosy, laughter-loving, youngest princess with the +mole, watched him. She smiled, hid her face in her handkerchief, and +remained with it hidden for awhile; then looking up and seeing +Pierre she again began to laugh. She evidently felt unable to look +at him without laughing, but could not resist looking at him: so to be +out of temptation she slipped quietly behind one of the columns. In +the midst of the service the voices of the priests suddenly ceased, +they whispered to one another, and the old servant who was holding the +count's hand got up and said something to the ladies. Anna Mikhaylovna +stepped forward and, stooping over the dying man, beckoned to +Lorrain from behind her back. The French doctor held no taper; he +was leaning against one of the columns in a respectful attitude +implying that he, a foreigner, in spite of all differences of faith, +understood the full importance of the rite now being performed and +even approved of it. He now approached the sick man with the noiseless +step of one in full vigor of life, with his delicate white fingers +raised from the green quilt the hand that was free, and turning +sideways felt the pulse and reflected a moment. The sick man was given +something to drink, there was a stir around him, then the people +resumed their places and the service continued. During this interval +Pierre noticed that Prince Vasili left the chair on which he had +been leaning, and--with an air which intimated that he knew what he was +about and if others did not understand him it was so much the worse +for them--did not go up to the dying man, but passed by him, joined +the eldest princess, and moved with her to the side of the room +where stood the high bedstead with its silken hangings. On leaving the +bed both Prince Vasili and the princess passed out by a back door, but +returned to their places one after the other before the service was +concluded. Pierre paid no more attention to this occurrence than to +the rest of what went on, having made up his mind once for all that +what he saw happening around him that evening was in some way +essential. + +The chanting of the service ceased, and the voice of the priest +was heard respectfully congratulating the dying man on having received +the sacrament. The dying man lay as lifeless and immovable as +before. Around him everyone began to stir: steps were audible and +whispers, among which Anna Mikhaylovna's was the most distinct. + +Pierre heard her say: + +"Certainly he must be moved onto the bed; here it will be +impossible..." + +The sick man was so surrounded by doctors, princesses, and +servants that Pierre could no longer see the reddish-yellow face +with its gray mane--which, though he saw other faces as well, he had +not lost sight of for a single moment during the whole service. He +judged by the cautious movements of those who crowded round the +invalid chair that they had lifted the dying man and were moving him. + +"Catch hold of my arm or you'll drop him!" he heard one of the +servants say in a frightened whisper. "Catch hold from underneath. +Here!" exclaimed different voices; and the heavy breathing of the +bearers and the shuffling of their feet grew more hurried, as if the +weight they were carrying were too much for them. + +As the bearers, among whom was Anna Mikhaylovna, passed the young +man he caught a momentary glimpse between their heads and backs of the +dying man's high, stout, uncovered chest and powerful shoulders, +raised by those who were holding him under the armpits, and of his +gray, curly, leonine head. This head, with its remarkably broad brow +and cheekbones, its handsome, sensual mouth, and its cold, majestic +expression, was not disfigured by the approach of death. It was the +same as Pierre remembered it three months before, when the count had +sent him to Petersburg. But now this head was swaying helplessly +with the uneven movements of the bearers, and the cold listless gaze +fixed itself upon nothing. + +After a few minutes' bustle beside the high bedstead, those who +had carried the sick man dispersed. Anna Mikhaylovna touched +Pierre's hand and said, "Come." Pierre went with her to the bed on +which the sick man had been laid in a stately pose in keeping with the +ceremony just completed. He lay with his head propped high on the +pillows. His hands were symmetrically placed on the green silk +quilt, the palms downward. When Pierre came up the count was gazing +straight at him, but with a look the significance of which could not +be understood by mortal man. Either this look meant nothing but that +as long as one has eyes they must look somewhere, or it meant too +much. Pierre hesitated, not knowing what to do, and glanced +inquiringly at his guide. Anna Mikhaylovna made a hurried sign with +her eyes, glancing at the sick man's hand and moving her lips as if to +send it a kiss. Pierre, carefully stretching his neck so as not to +touch the quilt, followed her suggestion and pressed his lips to the +large boned, fleshy hand. Neither the hand nor a single muscle of +the count's face stirred. Once more Pierre looked questioningly at +Anna Mikhaylovna to see what he was to do next. Anna Mikhaylovna +with her eyes indicated a chair that stood beside the bed. Pierre +obediently sat down, his eyes asking if he were doing right. Anna +Mikhaylovna nodded approvingly. Again Pierre fell into the naively +symmetrical pose of an Egyptian statue, evidently distressed that +his stout and clumsy body took up so much room and doing his utmost to +look as small as possible. He looked at the count, who still gazed +at the spot where Pierre's face had been before he sat down. Anna +Mikhaylovna indicated by her attitude her consciousness of the +pathetic importance of these last moments of meeting between the +father and son. This lasted about two minutes, which to Pierre +seemed an hour. Suddenly the broad muscles and lines of the count's +face began to twitch. The twitching increased, the handsome mouth +was drawn to one side (only now did Pierre realize how near death +his father was), and from that distorted mouth issued an indistinct, +hoarse sound. Anna Mikhaylovna looked attentively at the sick man's +eyes, trying to guess what he wanted; she pointed first to Pierre, +then to some drink, then named Prince Vasili in an inquiring +whisper, then pointed to the quilt. The eyes and face of the sick +man showed impatience. He made an effort to look at the servant who +stood constantly at the head of the bed. + +"Wants to turn on the other side," whispered the servant, and got up +to turn the count's heavy body toward the wall. + +Pierre rose to help him. + +While the count was being turned over, one of his arms fell back +helplessly and he made a fruitless effort to pull it forward. +Whether he noticed the look of terror with which Pierre regarded +that lifeless arm, or whether some other thought flitted across his +dying brain, at any rate he glanced at the refractory arm, at Pierre's +terror-stricken face, and again at the arm, and on his face a +feeble, piteous smile appeared, quite out of keeping with his +features, that seemed to deride his own helplessness. At sight of this +smile Pierre felt an unexpected quivering in his breast and a tickling +in his nose, and tears dimmed his eyes. The sick man was turned on +to his side with his face to the wall. He sighed. + +"He is dozing," said Anna Mikhaylovna, observing that one of the +princesses was coming to take her turn at watching. "Let us go." + +Pierre went out. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +There was now no one in the reception room except Prince Vasili +and the eldest princess, who were sitting under the portrait of +Catherine the Great and talking eagerly. As soon as they saw Pierre +and his companion they became silent, and Pierre thought he saw the +princess hide something as she whispered: + +"I can't bear the sight of that woman." + +"Catiche has had tea served in the small drawing room," said +Prince Vasili to Anna Mikhaylovna. "Go and take something, my poor +Anna Mikhaylovna, or you will not hold out." + +To Pierre he said nothing, merely giving his arm a sympathetic +squeeze below the shoulder. Pierre went with Anna Mikhaylovna into the +small drawing room. + +"There is nothing so refreshing after a sleepless night as a cup +of this delicious Russian tea," Lorrain was saying with an air of +restrained animation as he stood sipping tea from a delicate Chinese +handleless cup before a table on which tea and a cold supper were laid +in the small circular room. Around the table all who were at Count +Bezukhov's house that night had gathered to fortify themselves. Pierre +well remembered this small circular drawing room with its mirrors +and little tables. During balls given at the house Pierre, who did not +know how to dance, had liked sitting in this room to watch the +ladies who, as they passed through in their ball dresses with diamonds +and pearls on their bare shoulders, looked at themselves in the +brilliantly lighted mirrors which repeated their reflections several +times. Now this same room was dimly lighted by two candles. On one +small table tea things and supper dishes stood in disorder, and in the +middle of the night a motley throng of people sat there, not +merrymaking, but somberly whispering, and betraying by every word +and movement that they none of them forgot what was happening and what +was about to happen in the bedroom. Pierre did not eat anything though +he would very much have liked to. He looked inquiringly at his +monitress and saw that she was again going on tiptoe to the +reception room where they had left Prince Vasili and the eldest +princess. Pierre concluded that this also was essential, and after a +short interval followed her. Anna Mikhaylovna was standing beside +the princess, and they were both speaking in excited whispers. + +"Permit me, Princess, to know what is necessary and what is not +necessary," said the younger of the two speakers, evidently in the +same state of excitement as when she had slammed the door of her room. + +"But, my dear princess," answered Anna Mikhaylovna blandly but +impressively, blocking the way to the bedroom and preventing the other +from passing, "won't this be too much for poor Uncle at a moment +when he needs repose? Worldly conversation at a moment when his soul +is already prepared..." + +Prince Vasili was seated in an easy chair in his familiar +attitude, with one leg crossed high above the other. His cheeks, which +were so flabby that they looked heavier below, were twitching +violently; but he wore the air of a man little concerned in what the +two ladies were saying. + +"Come, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna, let Catiche do as she pleases. +You know how fond the count is of her." + +"I don't even know what is in this paper," said the younger of the +two ladies, addressing Prince Vasili and pointing to an inlaid +portfolio she held in her hand. "All I know is that his real will is +in his writing table, and this is a paper he has forgotten...." + +She tried to pass Anna Mikhaylovna, but the latter sprang so as to +bar her path. + +"I know, my dear, kind princess," said Anna Mikhaylovna, seizing the +portfolio so firmly that it was plain she would not let go easily. +"Dear princess, I beg and implore you, have some pity on him! Je +vous en conjure..." + +The princess did not reply. Their efforts in the struggle for the +portfolio were the only sounds audible, but it was evident that if the +princess did speak, her words would not be flattering to Anna +Mikhaylovna. Though the latter held on tenaciously, her voice lost +none of its honeyed firmness and softness. + +"Pierre, my dear, come here. I think he will not be out of place +in a family consultation; is it not so, Prince?" + +"Why don't you speak, cousin?" suddenly shrieked the princess so +loud that those in the drawing room heard her and were startled. +"Why do you remain silent when heaven knows who permits herself to +interfere, making a scene on the very threshold of a dying man's room? +Intriguer!" she hissed viciously, and tugged with all her might at the +portfolio. + +But Anna Mikhaylovna went forward a step or two to keep her hold +on the portfolio, and changed her grip. + +Prince Vasili rose. "Oh!" said he with reproach and surprise, +"this is absurd! Come, let go I tell you." + +The princess let go. + +"And you too!" + +But Anna Mikhaylovna did not obey him. + +"Let go, I tell you! I will take the responsibility. I myself will +go and ask him, I!... does that satisfy you?" + +"But, Prince," said Anna Mikhaylovna, "after such a solemn +sacrament, allow him a moment's peace! Here, Pierre, tell them your +opinion," said she, turning to the young man who, having come quite +close, was gazing with astonishment at the angry face of the +princess which had lost all dignity, and at the twitching cheeks of +Prince Vasili. + +"Remember that you will answer for the consequences," said Prince +Vasili severely. "You don't know what you are doing." + +"Vile woman!" shouted the princess, darting unexpectedly at Anna +Mikhaylovna and snatching the portfolio from her. + +Prince Vasili bent his head and spread out his hands. + +At this moment that terrible door, which Pierre had watched so +long and which had always opened so quietly, burst noisily open and +banged against the wall, and the second of the three sisters rushed +out wringing her hands. + +"What are you doing!" she cried vehemently. "He is dying and you +leave me alone with him!" + +Her sister dropped the portfolio. Anna Mikhaylovna, stooping, +quickly caught up the object of contention and ran into the bedroom. +The eldest princess and Prince Vasili, recovering themselves, followed +her. A few minutes later the eldest sister came out with a pale hard +face, again biting her underlip. At sight of Pierre her expression +showed an irrepressible hatred. + +"Yes, now you may be glad!" said she; "this is what you have been +waiting for." And bursting into tears she hid her face in her +handkerchief and rushed from the room. + +Prince Vasili came next. He staggered to the sofa on which Pierre +was sitting and dropped onto it, covering his face with his hand. +Pierre noticed that he was pale and that his jaw quivered and shook as +if in an ague. + +"Ah, my friend!" said he, taking Pierre by the elbow; and there +was in his voice a sincerity and weakness Pierre had never observed in +it before. "How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? I +am near sixty, dear friend... I too... All will end in death, all! +Death is awful..." and he burst into tears. + +Anna Mikhaylovna came out last. She approached Pierre with slow, +quiet steps. + +"Pierre!" she said. + +Pierre gave her an inquiring look. She kissed the young man on his +forehead, wetting him with her tears. Then after a pause she said: + +"He is no more...." + +Pierre looked at her over his spectacles. + +"Come, I will go with you. Try to weep, nothing gives such relief as +tears." + +She led him into the dark drawing room and Pierre was glad no one +could see his face. Anna Mikhaylovna left him, and when she returned +he was fast asleep with his head on his arm. + +In the morning Anna Mikhaylovna said to Pierre: + +"Yes, my dear, this is a great loss for us all, not to speak of you. +But God will support you: you are young, and are now, I hope, in +command of an immense fortune. The will has not yet been opened. I +know you well enough to be sure that this will not turn your head, but +it imposes duties on you, and you must be a man." + +Pierre was silent. + +"Perhaps later on I may tell you, my dear boy, that if I had not +been there, God only knows what would have happened! You know, Uncle +promised me only the day before yesterday not to forget Boris. But +he had no time. I hope, my dear friend, you will carry out your +father's wish?" + +Pierre understood nothing of all this and coloring shyly looked in +silence at Princess Anna Mikhaylovna. After her talk with Pierre, Anna +Mikhaylovna returned to the Rostovs' and went to bed. On waking in the +morning she told the Rostovs and all her acquaintances the details +of Count Bezukhov's death. She said the count had died as she would +herself wish to die, that his end was not only touching but +edifying. As to the last meeting between father and son, it was so +touching that she could not think of it without tears, and did not +know which had behaved better during those awful moments--the father +who so remembered everything and everybody at last and had +spoken such pathetic words to the son, or Pierre, whom it had been +pitiful to see, so stricken was he with grief, though he tried hard to +hide it in order not to sadden his dying father. "It is painful, but +it does one good. It uplifts the soul to see such men as the old count +and his worthy son," said she. Of the behavior of the eldest +princess and Prince Vasili she spoke disapprovingly, but in whispers +and as a great secret. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +At Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Andreevich Bolkonski's estate, the +arrival of young Prince Andrew and his wife was daily expected, but +this expectation did not upset the regular routine of life in the old +prince's household. General in Chief Prince Nicholas Andreevich +(nicknamed in society, "the King of Prussia") ever since the Emperor +Paul had exiled him to his country estate had lived there continuously +with his daughter, Princess Mary, and her companion, Mademoiselle +Bourienne. Though in the new reign he was free to return to the +capitals, he still continued to live in the country, remarking that +anyone who wanted to see him could come the hundred miles from Moscow +to Bald Hills, while he himself needed no one and nothing. He used to +say that there are only two sources of human vice--idleness and +superstition, and only two virtues--activity and intelligence. He +himself undertook his daughter's education, and to develop these two +cardinal virtues in her gave her lessons in algebra and geometry till +she was twenty, and arranged her life so that her whole time was +occupied. He was himself always occupied: writing his memoirs, solving +problems in higher mathematics, turning snuffboxes on a lathe, working +in the garden, or superintending the building that was always going on +at his estate. As regularity is a prime condition facilitating +activity, regularity in his household was carried to the highest point +of exactitude. He always came to table under precisely the same +conditions, and not only at the same hour but at the same minute. With +those about him, from his daughter to his serfs, the prince was sharp +and invariably exacting, so that without being a hardhearted man he +inspired such fear and respect as few hardhearted men would have +aroused. Although he was in retirement and had now no influence in +political affairs, every high official appointed to the province in +which the prince's estate lay considered it his duty to visit him and +waited in the lofty antechamber just as the architect, gardener, or +Princess Mary did, till the prince appeared punctually to the +appointed hour. Everyone sitting in this antechamber experienced the +same feeling of respect and even fear when the enormously high study +door opened and showed the figure of a rather small old man, with +powdered wig, small withered hands, and bushy gray eyebrows which, +when he frowned, sometimes hid the gleam of his shrewd, youthfully +glittering eyes. + +On the morning of the day that the young couple were to arrive, +Princess Mary entered the antechamber as usual at the time appointed +for the morning greeting, crossing herself with trepidation and +repeating a silent prayer. Every morning she came in like that, and +every morning prayed that the daily interview might pass off well. + +An old powdered manservant who was sitting in the antechamber rose +quietly and said in a whisper: "Please walk in." + +Through the door came the regular hum of a lathe. The princess +timidly opened the door which moved noiselessly and easily. She paused +at the entrance. The prince was working at the lathe and after +glancing round continued his work. + +The enormous study was full of things evidently in constant use. The +large table covered with books and plans, the tall glass-fronted +bookcases with keys in the locks, the high desk for writing while +standing up, on which lay an open exercise book, and the lathe with +tools laid ready to hand and shavings scattered around--all +indicated continuous, varied, and orderly activity. The motion of +the small foot shod in a Tartar boot embroidered with silver, and +the firm pressure of the lean sinewy hand, showed that the prince +still possessed the tenacious endurance and vigor of hardy old age. +After a few more turns of the lathe he removed his foot from the +pedal, wiped his chisel, dropped it into a leather pouch attached to +the lathe, and, approaching the table, summoned his daughter. He never +gave his children a blessing, so he simply held out his bristly +cheek (as yet unshaven) and, regarding her tenderly and attentively, +said severely: + +"Quite well? All right then, sit down." He took the exercise book +containing lessons in geometry written by himself and drew up a +chair with his foot. + +"For tomorrow!" said he, quickly finding the page and making a +scratch from one paragraph to another with his hard nail. + +The princess bent over the exercise book on the table. + +"Wait a bit, here's a letter for you," said the old man suddenly, +taking a letter addressed in a woman's hand from a bag hanging above +the table, onto which he threw it. + +At the sight of the letter red patches showed themselves on the +princess' face. She took it quickly and bent her head over it. + +"From Heloise?" asked the prince with a cold smile that showed his +still sound, yellowish teeth. + +"Yes, it's from Julie," replied the princess with a timid glance and +a timid smile. + +"I'll let two more letters pass, but the third I'll read," said +the prince sternly; "I'm afraid you write much nonsense. I'll read the +third!" + +"Read this if you like, Father," said the princess, blushing still +more and holding out the letter. + +"The third, I said the third!" cried the prince abruptly, pushing +the letter away, and leaning his elbows on the table he drew toward +him the exercise book containing geometrical figures. + +"Well, madam," he began, stooping over the book close to his +daughter and placing an arm on the back of the chair on which she sat, +so that she felt herself surrounded on all sides by the acrid scent of +old age and tobacco, which she had known so long. "Now, madam, these +triangles are equal; please note that the angle ABC..." + +The princess looked in a scared way at her father's eyes +glittering close to her; the red patches on her face came and went, +and it was plain that she understood nothing and was so frightened +that her fear would prevent her understanding any of her father's +further explanations, however clear they might be. Whether it was +the teacher's fault or the pupil's, this same thing happened every +day: the princess' eyes grew dim, she could not see and could not hear +anything, but was only conscious of her stern father's withered face +close to her, of his breath and the smell of him, and could think only +of how to get away quickly to her own room to make out the problem +in peace. The old man was beside himself: moved the chair on which +he was sitting noisily backward and forward, made efforts to control +himself and not become vehement, but almost always did become +vehement, scolded, and sometimes flung the exercise book away. + +The princess gave a wrong answer. + +"Well now, isn't she a fool!" shouted the prince, pushing the book +aside and turning sharply away; but rising immediately, he paced up +and down, lightly touched his daughter's hair and sat down again. + +He drew up his chair, and continued to explain. + +"This won't do, Princess; it won't do," said he, when Princess Mary, +having taken and closed the exercise book with the next day's +lesson, was about to leave: "Mathematics are most important, madam! +I don't want to have you like our silly ladies. Get used to it and +you'll like it," and he patted her cheek. "It will drive all the +nonsense out of your head." + +She turned to go, but he stopped her with a gesture and took an +uncut book from the high desk. + +"Here is some sort of Key to the Mysteries that your Heloise has +sent you. Religious! I don't interfere with anyone's belief... I +have looked at it. Take it. Well, now go. Go." + +He patted her on the shoulder and himself closed the door after her. + +Princess Mary went back to her room with the sad, scared +expression that rarely left her and which made her plain, sickly +face yet plainer. She sat down at her writing table, on which stood +miniature portraits and which was littered with books and papers. +The princess was as untidy as her father was tidy. She put down the +geometry book and eagerly broke the seal of her letter. It was from +her most intimate friend from childhood; that same Julie Karagina +who had been at the Rostovs' name-day party. + +Julie wrote in French: + + +Dear and precious Friend, How terrible and frightful a thing is +separation! Though I tell myself that half my life and half my +happiness are wrapped up in you, and that in spite of the distance +separating us our hearts are united by indissoluble bonds, my heart +rebels against fate and in spite of the pleasures and distractions +around me I cannot overcome a certain secret sorrow that has been in +my heart ever since we parted. Why are we not together as we were last +summer, in your big study, on the blue sofa, the confidential sofa? +Why cannot I now, as three months ago, draw fresh moral strength +from your look, so gentle, calm, and penetrating, a look I loved so +well and seem to see before me as I write? + + +Having read thus far, Princess Mary sighed and glanced into the +mirror which stood on her right. It reflected a weak, ungraceful +figure and thin face. Her eyes, always sad, now looked with particular +hopelessness at her reflection in the glass. "She flatters me," +thought the princess, turning away and continuing to read. But Julie +did not flatter her friend, the princess' eyes--large, deep and +luminous (it seemed as if at times there radiated from them shafts +of warm light)--were so beautiful that very often in spite of the +plainness of her face they gave her an attraction more powerful than +that of beauty. But the princess never saw the beautiful expression of +her own eyes--the look they had when she was not thinking of +herself. As with everyone, her face assumed a forced unnatural +expression as soon as she looked in a glass. She went on reading: + + +All Moscow talks of nothing but war. One of my two brothers is +already abroad, the other is with the Guards, who are starting on +their march to the frontier. Our dear Emperor has left Petersburg +and it is thought intends to expose his precious person to the chances +of war. God grant that the Corsican monster who is destroying the +peace of Europe may be overthrown by the angel whom it has pleased the +Almighty, in His goodness, to give us as sovereign! To say nothing +of my brothers, this war has deprived me of one of the associations +nearest my heart. I mean young Nicholas Rostov, who with his +enthusiasm could not bear to remain inactive and has left the +university to join the army. I will confess to you, dear Mary, that in +spite of his extreme youth his departure for the army was a great +grief to me. This young man, of whom I spoke to you last summer, is so +noble-minded and full of that real youthfulness which one seldom finds +nowadays among our old men of twenty and, particularly, he is so frank +and has so much heart. He is so pure and poetic that my relations with +him, transient as they were, have been one of the sweetest comforts to +my poor heart, which has already suffered so much. Someday I will tell +you about our parting and all that was said then. That is still too +fresh. Ah, dear friend, you are happy not to know these poignant +joys and sorrows. You are fortunate, for the latter are generally +the stronger! I know very well that Count Nicholas is too young ever +to be more to me than a friend, but this sweet friendship, this poetic +and pure intimacy, were what my heart needed. But enough of this! +The chief news, about which all Moscow gossips, is the death of old +Count Bezukhov, and his inheritance. Fancy! The three princesses +have received very little, Prince Vasili nothing, and it is Monsieur +Pierre who has inherited all the property and has besides been +recognized as legitimate; so that he is now Count Bezukhov and +possessor of the finest fortune in Russia. It is rumored that Prince +Vasili played a very despicable part in this affair and that he +returned to Petersburg quite crestfallen. + +I confess I understand very little about all these matters of +wills and inheritance; but I do know that since this young man, whom +we all used to know as plain Monsieur Pierre, has become Count +Bezukhov and the owner of one of the largest fortunes in Russia, I +am much amused to watch the change in the tone and manners of the +mammas burdened by marriageable daughters, and of the young ladies +themselves, toward him, though, between you and me, he always seemed +to me a poor sort of fellow. As for the past two years people have +amused themselves by finding husbands for me (most of whom I don't +even know), the matchmaking chronicles of Moscow now speak of me as +the future Countess Bezukhova. But you will understand that I have +no desire for the post. A propos of marriages: do you know that a +while ago that universal auntie Anna Mikhaylovna told me, under the +seal of strict secrecy, of a plan of marriage for you. It is neither +more nor less than with Prince Vasili's son Anatole, whom they wish to +reform by marrying him to someone rich and distinguee, and it is on +you that his relations' choice has fallen. I don't know what you +will think of it, but I consider it my duty to let you know of it. +He is said to be very handsome and a terrible scapegrace. That is +all I have been able to find out about him. + +But enough of gossip. I am at the end of my second sheet of paper, +and Mamma has sent for me to go and dine at the Apraksins'. Read the +mystical book I am sending you; it has an enormous success here. +Though there are things in it difficult for the feeble human mind to +grasp, it is an admirable book which calms and elevates the soul. +Adieu! Give my respects to monsieur your father and my compliments +to Mademoiselle Bourienne. I embrace you as I love you. + +JULIE + +P.S. Let me have news of your brother and his charming little wife. + + +The princess pondered awhile with a thoughtful smile and her +luminous eyes lit up so that her face was entirely transformed. Then +she suddenly rose and with her heavy tread went up to the table. She +took a sheet of paper and her hand moved rapidly over it. This is +the reply she wrote, also in French: + + +Dear and precious Friend, Your letter of the 13th has given me great +delight. So you still love me, my romantic Julie? Separation, of which +you say so much that is bad, does not seem to have had its usual +effect on you. You complain of our separation. What then should I say, +if I dared complain, I who am deprived of all who are dear to me? +Ah, if we had not religion to console us life would be very sad. Why +do you suppose that I should look severely on your affection for +that young man? On such matters I am only severe with myself. I +understand such feelings in others, and if never having felt them I +cannot approve of them, neither do I condemn them. Only it seems to me +that Christian love, love of one's neighbor, love of one's enemy, is +worthier, sweeter, and better than the feelings which the beautiful +eyes of a young man can inspire in a romantic and loving young girl +like yourself. + +The news of Count Bezukhov's death reached us before your letter and +my father was much affected by it. He says the count was the last +representative but one of the great century, and that it is his own +turn now, but that he will do all he can to let his turn come as +late as possible. God preserve us from that terrible misfortune! + +I cannot agree with you about Pierre, whom I knew as a child. He +always seemed to me to have an excellent heart, and that is the +quality I value most in people. As to his inheritance and the part +played by Prince Vasili, it is very sad for both. Ah, my dear +friend, our divine Saviour's words, that it is easier for a camel to +go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the +Kingdom of God, are terribly true. I pity Prince Vasili but am still +more sorry for Pierre. So young, and burdened with such riches--to +what temptations he will be exposed! If I were asked what I desire +most on earth, it would be to be poorer than the poorest beggar. A +thousand thanks, dear friend, for the volume you have sent me and +which has such success in Moscow. Yet since you tell me that among +some good things it contains others which our weak human understanding +cannot grasp, it seems to me rather useless to spend time in reading +what is unintelligible and can therefore bear no fruit. I never +could understand the fondness some people have for confusing their +minds by dwelling on mystical books that merely awaken their doubts +and excite their imagination, giving them a bent for exaggeration +quite contrary to Christian simplicity. Let us rather read the +Epistles and Gospels. Let us not seek to penetrate what mysteries they +contain; for how can we, miserable sinners that we are, know the +terrible and holy secrets of Providence while we remain in this +flesh which forms an impenetrable veil between us and the Eternal? Let +us rather confine ourselves to studying those sublime rules which +our divine Saviour has left for our guidance here below. Let us try to +conform to them and follow them, and let us be persuaded that the less +we let our feeble human minds roam, the better we shall please God, +who rejects all knowledge that does not come from Him; and the less we +seek to fathom what He has been pleased to conceal from us, the sooner +will He vouchsafe its revelation to us through His divine Spirit. + +My father has not spoken to me of a suitor, but has only told me +that he has received a letter and is expecting a visit from Prince +Vasili. In regard to this project of marriage for me, I will tell you, +dear sweet friend, that I look on marriage as a divine institution +to which we must conform. However painful it may be to me, should +the Almighty lay the duties of wife and mother upon me I +shall try to perform them as faithfully as I can, without +disquieting myself by examining my feelings toward him whom He may +give me for husband. + +I have had a letter from my brother, who announces his speedy +arrival at Bald Hills with his wife. This pleasure will be but a brief +one, however, for he will leave, us again to take part in this unhappy +war into which we have been drawn, God knows how or why. Not only +where you are--at the heart of affairs and of the world--is the talk +all of war, even here amid fieldwork and the calm of nature--which +townsfolk consider characteristic of the country--rumors of war are +heard and painfully felt. My father talks of nothing but marches and +countermarches, things of which I understand nothing; and the day +before yesterday during my daily walk through the village I +witnessed a heartrending scene.... It was a convoy of conscripts +enrolled from our people and starting to join the army. You should +have seen the state of the mothers, wives, and children of the men who +were going and should have heard the sobs. It seems as though +mankind has forgotten the laws of its divine Saviour, Who preached +love and forgiveness of injuries--and that men attribute the +greatest merit to skill in killing one another. + +Adieu, dear and kind friend; may our divine Saviour and His most +Holy Mother keep you in their holy and all-powerful care! + +MARY + + +"Ah, you are sending off a letter, Princess? I have already +dispatched mine. I have written to my poor mother," said the smiling +Mademoiselle Bourienne rapidly, in her pleasant mellow tones and +with guttural r's. She brought into Princess Mary's strenuous, +mournful, and gloomy world a quite different atmosphere, careless, +lighthearted, and self-satisfied. + +"Princess, I must warn you," she added, lowering her voice and +evidently listening to herself with pleasure, and speaking with +exaggerated grasseyement, "the prince has been scolding Michael +Ivanovich. He is in a very bad humor, very morose. Be prepared." + +"Ah, dear friend," replied Princess Mary, "I have asked you never to +warn me of the humor my father is in. I do not allow myself to judge +him and would not have others do so." + +The princess glanced at her watch and, seeing that she was five +minutes late in starting her practice on the clavichord, went into the +sitting room with a look of alarm. Between twelve and two o'clock, +as the day was mapped out, the prince rested and the princess played +the clavichord. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +The gray-haired valet was sitting drowsily listening to the +snoring of the prince, who was in his large study. From the far side +of the house through the closed doors came the sound of difficult +passages--twenty times repeated--of a sonata by Dussek. + +Just then a closed carriage and another with a hood drove up to +the porch. Prince Andrew got out of the carriage, helped his little +wife to alight, and let her pass into the house before him. Old +Tikhon, wearing a wig, put his head out of the door of the +antechamber, reported in a whisper that the prince was sleeping, and +hastily closed the door. Tikhon knew that neither the son's arrival +nor any other unusual event must be allowed to disturb the appointed +order of the day. Prince Andrew apparently knew this as well as +Tikhon; he looked at his watch as if to ascertain whether his father's +habits had changed since he was at home last, and, having assured +himself that they had not, he turned to his wife. + +"He will get up in twenty minutes. Let us go across to Mary's room," +he said. + +The little princess had grown stouter during this time, but her eyes +and her short, downy, smiling lip lifted when she began to speak +just as merrily and prettily as ever. + +"Why, this is a palace!" she said to her husband, looking around +with the expression with which people compliment their host at a ball. +"Let's come, quick, quick!" And with a glance round, she smiled at +Tikhon, at her husband, and at the footman who accompanied them. + +"Is that Mary practicing? Let's go quietly and take her by +surprise." + +Prince Andrew followed her with a courteous but sad expression. + +"You've grown older, Tikhon," he said in passing to the old man, who +kissed his hand. + +Before they reached the room from which the sounds of the clavichord +came, the pretty, fair haired Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Bourienne, +rushed out apparently beside herself with delight. + +"Ah! what joy for the princess!" exclaimed she: "At last! I must let +her know." + +"No, no, please not... You are Mademoiselle Bourienne," said the +little princess, kissing her. "I know you already through my +sister-in-law's friendship for you. She was not expecting us?" + +They went up to the door of the sitting room from which came the +sound of the oft-repeated passage of the sonata. Prince Andrew stopped +and made a grimace, as if expecting something unpleasant. + +The little princess entered the room. The passage broke off in the +middle, a cry was heard, then Princess Mary's heavy tread and the +sound of kissing. When Prince Andrew went in the two princesses, who +had only met once before for a short time at his wedding, were in each +other's arms warmly pressing their lips to whatever place they +happened to touch. Mademoiselle Bourienne stood near them pressing her +hand to her heart, with a beatific smile and obviously equally ready +to cry or to laugh. Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders and +frowned, as lovers of music do when they hear a false note. The two +women let go of one another, and then, as if afraid of being too late, +seized each other's hands, kissing them and pulling them away, and +again began kissing each other on the face, and then to Prince +Andrew's surprise both began to cry and kissed again. Mademoiselle +Bourienne also began to cry. Prince Andrew evidently felt ill at ease, +but to the two women it seemed quite natural that they should cry, and +apparently it never entered their heads that it could have been +otherwise at this meeting. + +"Ah! my dear!... Ah! Mary!" they suddenly exclaimed, and then +laughed. "I dreamed last night..."--"You were not expecting us?..." +"Ah! Mary, you have got thinner?..." "And you have grown stouter!..." + +"I knew the princess at once," put in Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +"And I had no idea!..." exclaimed Princess Mary. "Ah, Andrew, I +did not see you." + +Prince Andrew and his sister, hand in hand, kissed one another, +and he told her she was still the same crybaby as ever. Princess +Mary had turned toward her brother, and through her tears the +loving, warm, gentle look of her large luminous eyes, very beautiful +at that moment, rested on Prince Andrew's face. + +The little princess talked incessantly, her short, downy upper lip +continually and rapidly touching her rosy nether lip when necessary +and drawing up again next moment when her face broke into a smile of +glittering teeth and sparkling eyes. She told of an accident they +had had on the Spasski Hill which might have been serious for her in +her condition, and immediately after that informed them that she had +left all her clothes in Petersburg and that heaven knew what she would +have to dress in here; and that Andrew had quite changed, and that +Kitty Odyntsova had married an old man, and that there was a suitor +for Mary, a real one, but that they would talk of that later. Princess +Mary was still looking silently at her brother and her beautiful +eyes were full of love and sadness. It was plain that she was +following a train of thought independent of her sister-in-law's words. +In the midst of a description of the last Petersburg fete she +addressed her brother: + +"So you are really going to the war, Andrew?" she said sighing. + +Lise sighed too. + +"Yes, and even tomorrow," replied her brother. + +"He is leaving me here, God knows why, when he might have had +promotion..." + +Princess Mary did not listen to the end, but continuing her train of +thought turned to her sister-in-law with a tender glance at her +figure. + +"Is it certain?" she said. + +The face of the little princess changed. She sighed and said: +"Yes, quite certain. Ah! it is very dreadful..." + +Her lip descended. She brought her face close to her sister-in-law's +and unexpectedly again began to cry. + +"She needs rest," said Prince Andrew with a frown. "Don't you, Lise? +Take her to your room and I'll go to Father. How is he? Just the +same?" + +"Yes, just the same. Though I don't know what your opinion will be," +answered the princess joyfully. + +"And are the hours the same? And the walks in the avenues? And the +lathe?" asked Prince Andrew with a scarcely perceptible smile which +showed that, in spite of all his love and respect for his father, he +was aware of his weaknesses. + +"The hours are the same, and the lathe, and also the mathematics and +my geometry lessons," said Princess Mary gleefully, as if her +lessons in geometry were among the greatest delights of her life. + +When the twenty minutes had elapsed and the time had come for the +old prince to get up, Tikhon came to call the young prince to his +father. The old man made a departure from his usual routine in honor +of his son's arrival: he gave orders to admit him to his apartments +while he dressed for dinner. The old prince always dressed in +old-fashioned style, wearing an antique coat and powdered hair; and +when Prince Andrew entered his father's dressing room (not with the +contemptuous look and manner he wore in drawing rooms, but with the +animated face with which he talked to Pierre), the old man was sitting +on a large leather-covered chair, wrapped in a powdering mantle, +entrusting his head to Tikhon. + +"Ah! here's the warrior! Wants to vanquish Buonaparte?" said the old +man, shaking his powdered head as much as the tail, which Tikhon was +holding fast to plait, would allow. + +"You at least must tackle him properly, or else if he goes on like +this he'll soon have us, too, for his subjects! How are you?" And he +held out his cheek. + +The old man was in a good temper after his nap before dinner. (He +used to say that a nap "after dinner was silver--before dinner, +golden.") He cast happy, sidelong glances at his son from under his +thick, bushy eyebrows. Prince Andrew went up and kissed his father +on the spot indicated to him. He made no reply on his father's +favorite topic--making fun of the military men of the day, and more +particularly of Bonaparte. + +"Yes, Father, I have come to you and brought my wife who is pregnant," +said Prince Andrew, following every movement of his father's face with +an eager and respectful look. "How is your health?" + +"Only fools and rakes fall ill, my boy. You know me: I am busy +from morning till night and abstemious, so of course I am well." + +"Thank God," said his son smiling. + +"God has nothing to do with it! Well, go on," he continued, +returning to his hobby; "tell me how the Germans have taught you to +fight Bonaparte by this new science you call 'strategy.'" + +Prince Andrew smiled. + +"Give me time to collect my wits, Father," said he, with a smile +that showed that his father's foibles did not prevent his son from +loving and honoring him. "Why, I have not yet had time to settle +down!" + +"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried the old man, shaking his pigtail to +see whether it was firmly plaited, and grasping his by the hand. +"The house for your wife is ready. Princess Mary will take her there +and show her over, and they'll talk nineteen to the dozen. That's +their woman's way! I am glad to have her. Sit down and talk. About +Mikhelson's army I understand--Tolstoy's too... a simultaneous +expedition.... But what's the southern army to do? Prussia is +neutral... I know that. What about Austria?" said he, rising from +his chair and pacing up and down the room followed by Tikhon, who +ran after him, handing him different articles of clothing. "What of +Sweden? How will they cross Pomerania?" + +Prince Andrew, seeing that his father insisted, began--at first +reluctantly, but gradually with more and more animation, and from +habit changing unconsciously from Russian to French as he went on--to +explain the plan of operation for the coming campaign. He explained +how an army, ninety thousand strong, was to threaten Prussia so as to +bring her out of her neutrality and draw her into the war; how part of +that army was to join some Swedish forces at Stralsund; how two +hundred and twenty thousand Austrians, with a hundred thousand +Russians, were to operate in Italy and on the Rhine; how fifty +thousand Russians and as many English were to land at Naples, and how +a total force of five hundred thousand men was to attack the French +from different sides. The old prince did not evince the least interest +during this explanation, but as if he were not listening to it +continued to dress while walking about, and three times unexpectedly +interrupted. Once he stopped it by shouting: "The white one, the white +one!" + +This meant that Tikhon was not handing him the waistcoat he +wanted. Another time he interrupted, saying: + +"And will she soon be confined?" and shaking his head +reproachfully said: "That's bad! Go on, go on." + +The third interruption came when Prince Andrew was finishing his +description. The old man began to sing, in the cracked voice of old +age: "Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre. Dieu sait quand reviendra."* + + +*"Marlborough is going to the wars; God knows when he'll return." + + +His son only smiled. + +"I don't say it's a plan I approve of," said the son; "I am only +telling you what it is. Napoleon has also formed his plan by now, +not worse than this one." + +"Well, you've told me nothing new," and the old man repeated, +meditatively and rapidly: + +"Dieu sait quand reviendra. Go to the dining room." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +At the appointed hour the prince, powdered and shaven, entered the +dining room where his daughter-in-law, Princess Mary, and Mademoiselle +Bourienne were already awaiting him together with his architect, who +by a strange caprice of his employer's was admitted to table though +the position of that insignificant individual was such as could +certainly not have caused him to expect that honor. The prince, who +generally kept very strictly to social distinctions and rarely +admitted even important government officials to his table, had +unexpectedly selected Michael Ivanovich (who always went into a corner +to blow his nose on his checked handkerchief) to illustrate the theory +that all men are equals, and had more than once impressed on his +daughter that Michael Ivanovich was "not a whit worse than you or +I." At dinner the prince usually spoke to the taciturn Michael +Ivanovich more often than to anyone else. + +In the dining room, which like all the rooms in the house was +exceedingly lofty, the members of the household and the footmen--one +behind each chair--stood waiting for the prince to enter. The head +butler, napkin on arm, was scanning the setting of the table, making +signs to the footmen, and anxiously glancing from the clock to the +door by which the prince was to enter. Prince Andrew was looking at +a large gilt frame, new to him, containing the genealogical tree of +the Princes Bolkonski, opposite which hung another such frame with a +badly painted portrait (evidently by the hand of the artist +belonging to the estate) of a ruling prince, in a crown--an alleged +descendant of Rurik and ancestor of the Bolkonskis. Prince Andrew, +looking again at that genealogical tree, shook his head, laughing as a +man laughs who looks at a portrait so characteristic of the original +as to be amusing. + +"How thoroughly like him that is!" he said to Princess Mary, who had +come up to him. + +Princess Mary looked at her brother in surprise. She did not +understand what he was laughing at. Everything her father did inspired +her with reverence and was beyond question. + +"Everyone has his Achilles' heel," continued Prince Andrew. +"Fancy, with his powerful mind, indulging in such nonsense!" + +Princess Mary could not understand the boldness of her brother's +criticism and was about to reply, when the expected footsteps were +heard coming from the study. The prince walked in quickly and jauntily +as was his wont, as if intentionally contrasting the briskness of +his manners with the strict formality of his house. At that moment the +great clock struck two and another with a shrill tone joined in from +the drawing room. The prince stood still; his lively glittering eyes +from under their thick, bushy eyebrows sternly scanned all present and +rested on the little princess. She felt, as courtiers do when the Tsar +enters, the sensation of fear and respect which the old man inspired +in all around him. He stroked her hair and then patted her awkwardly +on the back of her neck. + +"I'm glad, glad, to see you," he said, looking attentively into +her eyes, and then quickly went to his place and sat down. "Sit +down, sit down! Sit down, Michael Ianovich!" + +He indicated a place beside him to his daughter-in-law. A footman +moved the chair for her. + +"Ho, ho!" said the old man, casting his eyes on her rounded +figure. "You've been in a hurry. That's bad!" + +He laughed in his usual dry, cold, unpleasant way, with his lips +only and not with his eyes. + +"You must walk, walk as much as possible, as much as possible," he +said. + +The little princess did not, or did not wish to, hear his words. She +was silent and seemed confused. The prince asked her about her father, +and she began to smile and talk. He asked about mutual acquaintances, +and she became still more animated and chattered away giving him +greetings from various people and retailing the town gossip. + +"Countess Apraksina, poor thing, has lost her husband and she has +cried her eyes out," she said, growing more and more lively. + +As she became animated the prince looked at her more and more +sternly, and suddenly, as if he had studied her sufficiently and had +formed a definite idea of her, he turned away and addressed Michael +Ivanovich. + +"Well, Michael Ivanovich, our Bonaparte will be having a bad time of +it. Prince Andrew" (he always spoke thus of his son) "has been telling +me what forces are being collected against him! While you and I +never thought much of him." + +Michael Ivanovich did not at all know when "you and I" had said such +things about Bonaparte, but understanding that he was wanted as a +peg on which to hang the prince's favorite topic, he looked +inquiringly at the young prince, wondering what would follow. + +"He is a great tactician!" said the prince to his son, pointing to +the architect. + +And the conversation again turned on the war, on Bonaparte, and +the generals and statesmen of the day. The old prince seemed convinced +not only that all the men of the day were mere babies who did not know +the A B C of war or of politics, and that Bonaparte was an +insignificant little Frenchy, successful only because there were no +longer any Potemkins or Suvorovs left to oppose him; but he was also +convinced that there were no political difficulties in Europe and no +real war, but only a sort of puppet show at which the men of the day +were playing, pretending to do something real. Prince Andrew gaily +bore with his father's ridicule of the new men, and drew him on and +listened to him with evident pleasure. + +"The past always seems good," said he, "but did not Suvorov +himself fall into a trap Moreau set him, and from which he did not +know how to escape?" + +"Who told you that? Who?" cried the prince. "Suvorov!" And he jerked +away his plate, which Tikhon briskly caught. "Suvorov!... Consider, +Prince Andrew. Two... Frederick and Suvorov; Moreau!... Moreau would +have been a prisoner if Suvorov had had a free hand; but he had the +Hofs-kriegs-wurst-schnapps-Rath on his hands. It would have puzzled +the devil himself! When you get there you'll find out what those +Hofs-kriegs-wurst-Raths are! Suvorov couldn't manage them so what +chance has Michael Kutuzov? No, my dear boy," he continued, "you and +your generals won't get on against Buonaparte; you'll have to call +in the French, so that birds of a feather may fight together. The +German, Pahlen, has been sent to New York in America, to fetch the +Frenchman, Moreau," he said, alluding to the invitation made that year +to Moreau to enter the Russian service.... "Wonderful!... Were the +Potemkins, Suvorovs, and Orlovs Germans? No, lad, either you fellows +have all lost your wits, or I have outlived mine. May God help you, +but we'll see what will happen. Buonaparte has become a great +commander among them! Hm!..." + +"I don't at all say that all the plans are good," said Prince +Andrew, "I am only surprised at your opinion of Bonaparte. You may +laugh as much as you like, but all the same Bonaparte is a great +general!" + +"Michael Ivanovich!" cried the old prince to the architect who, busy +with his roast meat, hoped he had been forgotten: "Didn't I tell you +Buonaparte was a great tactician? Here, he says the same thing." + +"To be sure, your excellency," replied the architect. + +The prince again laughed his frigid laugh. + +"Buonaparte was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has got +splendid soldiers. Besides he began by attacking Germans. And only +idlers have failed to beat the Germans. Since the world began +everybody has beaten the Germans. They beat no one--except one +another. He made his reputation fighting them." + +And the prince began explaining all the blunders which, according to +him, Bonaparte had made in his campaigns and even in politics. His son +made no rejoinder, but it was evident that whatever arguments were +presented he was as little able as his father to change his opinion. +He listened, refraining from a reply, and involuntarily wondered how +this old man, living alone in the country for so many years, could +know and discuss so minutely and acutely all the recent European +military and political events. + +"You think I'm an old man and don't understand the present state +of affairs?" concluded his father. "But it troubles me. I don't +sleep at night. Come now, where has this great commander of yours +shown his skill?" he concluded. + +"That would take too long to tell," answered the son. + +"Well, then go to your Buonaparte! Mademoiselle Bourienne, here's +another admirer of that powder-monkey emperor of yours," he +exclaimed in excellent French. + +"You know, Prince, I am not a Bonapartist!" + +"Dieu sait quand reviendra..." hummed the prince out of tune and, +with a laugh still more so, he quitted the table. + +The little princess during the whole discussion and the rest of +the dinner sat silent, glancing with a frightened look now at her +father-in-law and now at Princess Mary. When they left the table she +took her sister-in-law's arm and drew her into another room. + +"What a clever man your father is," said she; "perhaps that is why I +am afraid of him." + +"Oh, he is so kind!" answered Princess Mary. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Prince Andrew was to leave next evening. The old prince, not +altering his routine, retired as usual after dinner. The little +princess was in her sister-in-law's room. Prince Andrew in a traveling +coat without epaulettes had been packing with his valet in the rooms +assigned to him. After inspecting the carriage himself and seeing +the trunks put in, he ordered the horses to be harnessed. Only those +things he always kept with him remained in his room; a small box, a +large canteen fitted with silver plate, two Turkish pistols and a +saber--a present from his father who had brought it from the siege +of Ochakov. All these traveling effects of Prince Andrew's were in +very good order: new, clean, and in cloth covers carefully tied with +tapes. + +When starting on a journey or changing their mode of life, men +capable of reflection are generally in a serious frame of mind. At +such moments one reviews the past and plans for the future. Prince +Andrew's face looked very thoughtful and tender. With his hands behind +him he paced briskly from corner to corner of the room, looking +straight before him and thoughtfully shaking his head. Did he fear +going to the war, or was he sad at leaving his wife?--perhaps both, +but evidently he did not wish to be seen in that mood, for hearing +footsteps in the passage he hurriedly unclasped his hands, stopped +at a table as if tying the cover of the small box, and assumed his +usual tranquil and impenetrable expression. It was the heavy tread +of Princess Mary that he heard. + +"I hear you have given orders to harness," she cried, panting (she +had apparently been running), "and I did so wish to have another +talk with you alone! God knows how long we may again be parted. You +are not angry with me for coming? You have changed so, Andrusha," +she added, as if to explain such a question. + +She smiled as she uttered his pet name, "Andrusha." It was obviously +strange to her to think that this stern handsome man should be +Andrusha--the slender mischievous boy who had been her playfellow in +childhood. + +"And where is Lise?" he asked, answering her question only by a +smile. + +"She was so tired that she has fallen asleep on the sofa in my room. +Oh, Andrew! What a treasure of a wife you have," said she, sitting +down on the sofa, facing her brother. "She is quite a child: such a +dear, merry child. I have grown so fond of her." + +Prince Andrew was silent, but the princess noticed the ironical +and contemptuous look that showed itself on his face. + +"One must be indulgent to little weaknesses; who is free from them, +Andrew? Don't forget that she has grown up and been educated in +society, and so her position now is not a rosy one. We should enter +into everyone's situation. Tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner.* +Think what it must be for her, poor thing, after what she has been +used to, to be parted from her husband and be left alone in the +country, in her condition! It's very hard." + + +*To understand all is to forgive all. + + +Prince Andrew smiled as he looked at his sister, as we smile at +those we think we thoroughly understand. + +"You live in the country and don't think the life terrible," he +replied. + +"I... that's different. Why speak of me? I don't want any other +life, and can't, for I know no other. But think, Andrew: for a young +society woman to be buried in the country during the best years of her +life, all alone--for Papa is always busy, and I... well, you know what +poor resources I have for entertaining a woman used to the best +society. There is only Mademoiselle Bourienne...." + +"I don't like your Mademoiselle Bourienne at all," said Prince +Andrew. + +"No? She is very nice and kind and, above all, she's much to be +pitied. She has no one, no one. To tell the truth, I don't need her, +and she's even in my way. You know I always was a savage, and now am +even more so. I like being alone.... Father likes her very much. She +and Michael Ivanovich are the two people to whom he is always gentle +and kind, because he has been a benefactor to them both. As Sterne +says: 'We don't love people so much for the good they have done us, as +for the good we have done them.' Father took her when she was homeless +after losing her own father. She is very good-natured, and my father +likes her way of reading. She reads to him in the evenings and reads +splendidly." + +"To be quite frank, Mary, I expect Father's character sometimes +makes things trying for you, doesn't it?" Prince Andrew asked +suddenly. + +Princess Mary was first surprised and then aghast at this question. + +"For me? For me?... Trying for me!..." said she. + +"He always was rather harsh; and now I should think he's getting +very trying," said Prince Andrew, apparently speaking lightly of their +father in order to puzzle or test his sister. + +"You are good in every way, Andrew, but you have a kind of +intellectual pride," said the princess, following the train of her own +thoughts rather than the trend of the conversation--"and that's a +great sin. How can one judge Father? But even if one might, what +feeling except veneration could such a man as my father evoke? And I +am so contented and happy with him. I only wish you were all as +happy as I am." + +Her brother shook his head incredulously. + +"The only thing that is hard for me... I will tell you the truth, +Andrew... is Father's way of treating religious subjects. I don't +understand how a man of his immense intellect can fail to see what +is as clear as day, and can go so far astray. That is the only thing +that makes me unhappy. But even in this I can see lately a shade of +improvement. His satire has been less bitter of late, and there was +a monk he received and had a long talk with." + +"Ah! my dear, I am afraid you and your monk are wasting your +powder," said Prince Andrew banteringly yet tenderly. + +"Ah! mon ami, I only pray, and hope that God will hear me. +Andrew..." she said timidly after a moment's silence, "I have a +great favor to ask of you." + +"What is it, dear?" + +"No--promise that you will not refuse! It will give you no trouble +and is nothing unworthy of you, but it will comfort me. Promise, +Andrusha!..." said she, putting her hand in her reticule but not yet +taking out what she was holding inside it, as if what she held were +the subject of her request and must not be shown before the request +was granted. + +She looked timidly at her brother. + +"Even if it were a great deal of trouble..." answered Prince Andrew, +as if guessing what it was about. + +"Think what you please! I know you are just like Father. Think as +you please, but do this for my sake! Please do! Father's father, our +grandfather, wore it in all his wars." (She still did not take out +what she was holding in her reticule.) "So you promise?" + +"Of course. What is it?" + +"Andrew, I bless you with this icon and you must promise me you will +never take it off. Do you promise?" + +"If it does not weigh a hundredweight and won't break my neck... +To please you..." said Prince Andrew. But immediately, noticing the +pained expression his joke had brought to his sister's face, he +repented and added: "I am glad; really, dear, I am very glad." + +"Against your will He will save and have mercy on you and bring +you to Himself, for in Him alone is truth and peace," said she in a +voice trembling with emotion, solemnly holding up in both hands before +her brother a small, oval, antique, dark-faced icon of the Saviour +in a gold setting, on a finely wrought silver chain. + +She crossed herself, kissed the icon, and handed it to Andrew. + +"Please, Andrew, for my sake!..." + +Rays of gentle light shone from her large, timid eyes. Those eyes +lit up the whole of her thin, sickly face and made it beautiful. Her +brother would have taken the icon, but she stopped him. Andrew +understood, crossed himself and kissed the icon. There was a look of +tenderness, for he was touched, but also a gleam of irony on his face. + +"Thank you, my dear." She kissed him on the forehead and sat down +again on the sofa. They were silent for a while. + +"As I was saying to you, Andrew, be kind and generous as you +always used to be. Don't judge Lise harshly," she began. "She is so +sweet, so good-natured, and her position now is a very hard one." + +"I do not think I have complained of my wife to you, Masha, or +blamed her. Why do you say all this to me?" + +Red patches appeared on Princess Mary's face and she was silent as +if she felt guilty. + +"I have said nothing to you, but you have already been talked to. +And I am sorry for that," he went on. + +The patches grew deeper on her forehead, neck, and cheeks. She tried +to say something but could not. Her brother had guessed right: the +little princess had been crying after dinner and had spoken of her +forebodings about her confinement, and how she dreaded it, and had +complained of her fate, her father-in-law, and her husband. After +crying she had fallen asleep. Prince Andrew felt sorry for his sister. + +"Know this, Masha: I can't reproach, have not reproached, and +never shall reproach my wife with anything, and I cannot reproach +myself with anything in regard to her; and that always will be so in +whatever circumstances I may be placed. But if you want to know the +truth... if you want to know whether I am happy? No! Is she happy? No! +But why this is so I don't know..." + +As he said this he rose, went to his sister, and, stooping, kissed +her forehead. His fine eyes lit up with a thoughtful, kindly, and +unaccustomed brightness, but he was looking not at his sister but over +her head toward the darkness of the open doorway. + +"Let us go to her, I must say good-by. Or--go and wake and I'll come +in a moment. Petrushka!" he called to his valet: "Come here, take +these away. Put this on the seat and this to the right." + +Princess Mary rose and moved to the door, then stopped and said: +"Andrew, if you had faith you would have turned to God and asked Him +to give you the love you do not feel, and your prayer would have +been answered." + +"Well, may be!" said Prince Andrew. "Go, Masha; I'll come +immediately." + +On the way to his sister's room, in the passage which connected +one wing with the other, Prince Andrew met Mademoiselle Bourienne +smiling sweetly. It was the third time that day that, with an ecstatic +and artless smile, she had met him in secluded passages. + +"Oh! I thought you were in your room," she said, for some reason +blushing and dropping her eyes. + +Prince Andrew looked sternly at her and an expression of anger +suddenly came over his face. He said nothing to her but looked at +her forehead and hair, without looking at her eyes, with such contempt +that the Frenchwoman blushed and went away without a word. When he +reached his sister's room his wife was already awake and her merry +voice, hurrying one word after another, came through the open door. +She was speaking as usual in French, and as if after long +self-restraint she wished to make up for lost time. + +"No, but imagine the old Countess Zubova, with false curls and her +mouth full of false teeth, as if she were trying to cheat old +age.... Ha, ha, ha! Mary!" + +This very sentence about Countess Zubova and this same laugh +Prince Andrew had already heard from his wife in the presence of +others some five times. He entered the room softly. The little +princess, plump and rosy, was sitting in an easy chair with her work +in her hands, talking incessantly, repeating Petersburg +reminiscences and even phrases. Prince Andrew came up, stroked her +hair, and asked if she felt rested after their journey. She answered +him and continued her chatter. + +The coach with six horses was waiting at the porch. It was an autumn +night, so dark that the coachman could not see the carriage pole. +Servants with lanterns were bustling about in the porch. The immense +house was brilliant with lights shining through its lofty windows. The +domestic serfs were crowding in the hall, waiting to bid good-by to +the young prince. The members of the household were all gathered in +the reception hall: Michael Ivanovich, Mademoiselle Bourienne, +Princess Mary, and the little princess. Prince Andrew had been +called to his father's study as the latter wished to say good-by to +him alone. All were waiting for them to come out. + +When Prince Andrew entered the study the old man in his old-age +spectacles and white dressing gown, in which he received no one but +his son, sat at the table writing. He glanced round. + +"Going?" And he went on writing. + +"I've come to say good-by." + +"Kiss me here," and he touched his cheek: "Thanks, thanks!" + +"What do you thank me for?" + +"For not dilly-dallying and not hanging to a woman's apron +strings. The Service before everything. Thanks, thanks!" And he went +on writing, so that his quill spluttered and squeaked. "If you have +anything to say, say it. These two things can be done together," he +added. + +"About my wife... I am ashamed as it is to leave her on your +hands..." + +"Why talk nonsense? Say what you want." + +"When her confinement is due, send to Moscow for an accoucheur.... +Let him be here...." + +The old prince stopped writing and, as if not understanding, fixed +his stern eyes on his son. + +"I know that no one can help if nature does not do her work," said +Prince Andrew, evidently confused. "I know that out of a million cases +only one goes wrong, but it is her fancy and mine. They have been +telling her things. She has had a dream and is frightened." + +"Hm... Hm..." muttered the old prince to himself, finishing what +he was writing. "I'll do it." + +He signed with a flourish and suddenly turning to his son began to +laugh. + +"It's a bad business, eh?" + +"What is bad, Father?" + +"The wife!" said the old prince, briefly and significantly. + +"I don't understand!" said Prince Andrew. + +"No, it can't be helped, lad," said the prince. "They're all like +that; one can't unmarry. Don't be afraid; I won't tell anyone, but you +know it yourself." + +He seized his son by the hand with small bony fingers, shook it, +looked straight into his son's face with keen eyes which seemed to see +through him, and again laughed his frigid laugh. + +The son sighed, thus admitting that his father had understood him. +The old man continued to fold and seal his letter, snatching up and +throwing down the wax, the seal, and the paper, with his accustomed +rapidity. + +"What's to be done? She's pretty! I will do everything. Make your +mind easy," said he in abrupt sentences while sealing his letter. + +Andrew did not speak; he was both pleased and displeased that his +father understood him. The old man got up and gave the letter to his +son. + +"Listen!" said he; "don't worry about your wife: what can be done +shall be. Now listen! Give this letter to Michael Ilarionovich.* I +have written that he should make use of you in proper places and not +keep you long as an adjutant: a bad position! Tell him I remember +and like him. Write and tell me how he receives you. If he is all +right--serve him. Nicholas Bolkonski's son need not serve under anyone +if he is in disfavor. Now come here." + + +*Kutuzov. + + +He spoke so rapidly that he did not finish half his words, but his +son was accustomed to understand him. He led him to the desk, raised +the lid, drew out a drawer, and took out an exercise book filled +with his bold, tall, close handwriting. + +"I shall probably die before you. So remember, these are my memoirs; +hand them to the Emperor after my death. Now here is a Lombard bond +and a letter; it is a premium for the man who writes a history of +Suvorov's wars. Send it to the Academy. Here are some jottings for you +to read when I am gone. You will find them useful." + +Andrew did not tell his father that he would no doubt live a long +time yet. He felt that he must not say it. + +"I will do it all, Father," he said. + +"Well, now, good-by!" He gave his son his hand to kiss, and embraced +him. "Remember this, Prince Andrew, if they kill you it will hurt +me, your old father..." he paused unexpectedly, and then in a +querulous voice suddenly shrieked: "but if I hear that you have not +behaved like a son of Nicholas Bolkonski, I shall be ashamed!" + +"You need not have said that to me, Father," said the son with a +smile. + +The old man was silent. + +"I also wanted to ask you," continued Prince Andrew, "if I'm killed +and if I have a son, do not let him be taken away from you--as I said +yesterday... let him grow up with you.... Please." + +"Not let the wife have him?" said the old man, and laughed. + +They stood silent, facing one another. The old man's sharp eyes were +fixed straight on his son's. Something twitched in the lower part of +the old prince's face. + +"We've said good-by. Go!" he suddenly shouted in a loud, angry +voice, opening his door. + +"What is it? What?" asked both princesses when they saw for a moment +at the door Prince Andrew and the figure of the old man in a white +dressing gown, spectacled and wigless, shouting in an angry voice. + +Prince Andrew sighed and made no reply. + +"Well!" he said, turning to his wife. + +And this "Well!" sounded coldly ironic, as if he were saying,: +"Now go through your performance." + +"Andrew, already!" said the little princess, turning pale and +looking with dismay at her husband. + +He embraced her. She screamed and fell unconscious on his shoulder. + +He cautiously released the shoulder she leaned on, looked into her +face, and carefully placed her in an easy chair. + +"Adieu, Mary," said he gently to his sister, taking her by the +hand and kissing her, and then he left the room with rapid steps. + +The little princess lay in the armchair, Mademoiselle Bourienne +chafing her temples. Princess Mary, supporting her sister-in-law, +still looked with her beautiful eyes full of tears at the door through +which Prince Andrew had gone and made the sign of the cross in his +direction. From the study, like pistol shots, came the frequent +sound of the old man angrily blowing his nose. Hardly had Prince +Andrew gone when the study door opened quickly and the stern figure of +the old man in the white dressing gown looked out. + +"Gone? That's all right!" said he; and looking angrily at the +unconscious little princess, he shook his head reprovingly and slammed +the door. + + + + + +BOOK TWO: 1805 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +In October, 1805, a Russian army was occupying the villages and +towns of the Archduchy of Austria, and yet other regiments freshly +arriving from Russia were settling near the fortress of Braunau and +burdening the inhabitants on whom they were quartered. Braunau was the +headquarters of the commander-in-chief, Kutuzov. + +On October 11, 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had just +reached Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, waiting to be +inspected by the commander in chief. Despite the un-Russian appearance +of the locality and surroundings--fruit gardens, stone fences, tiled +roofs, and hills in the distance--and despite the fact that the +inhabitants (who gazed with curiosity at the soldiers) were not +Russians, the regiment had just the appearance of any Russian regiment +preparing for an inspection anywhere in the heart of Russia. + +On the evening of the last day's march an order had been received +that the commander in chief would inspect the regiment on the march. +Though the words of the order were not clear to the regimental +commander, and the question arose whether the troops were to be in +marching order or not, it was decided at a consultation between the +battalion commanders to present the regiment in parade order, on the +principle that it is always better to "bow too low than not bow low +enough." So the soldiers, after a twenty-mile march, were kept mending +and cleaning all night long without closing their eyes, while the +adjutants and company commanders calculated and reckoned, and by +morning the regiment--instead of the straggling, disorderly crowd it +had been on its last march the day before--presented a well-ordered +array of two thousand men each of whom knew his place and his duty, +had every button and every strap in place, and shone with cleanliness. +And not only externally was all in order, but had it pleased the +commander in chief to look under the uniforms he would have found on +every man a clean shirt, and in every knapsack the appointed number of +articles, "awl, soap, and all," as the soldiers say. There was only +one circumstance concerning which no one could be at ease. It was +the state of the soldiers' boots. More than half the men's boots +were in holes. But this defect was not due to any fault of the +regimental commander, for in spite of repeated demands boots had not +been issued by the Austrian commissariat, and the regiment had marched +some seven hundred miles. + +The commander of the regiment was an elderly, choleric, stout, and +thick-set general with grizzled eyebrows and whiskers, and wider +from chest to back than across the shoulders. He had on a brand-new +uniform showing the creases where it had been folded and thick gold +epaulettes which seemed to stand rather than lie down on his massive +shoulders. He had the air of a man happily performing one of the +most solemn duties of his life. He walked about in front of the line +and at every step pulled himself up, slightly arching his back. It was +plain that the commander admired his regiment, rejoiced in it, and +that his whole mind was engrossed by it, yet his strut seemed to +indicate that, besides military matters, social interests and the fair +sex occupied no small part of his thoughts. + +"Well, Michael Mitrich, sir?" he said, addressing one of the +battalion commanders who smilingly pressed forward (it was plain +that they both felt happy). "We had our hands full last night. +However, I think the regiment is not a bad one, eh?" + +The battalion commander perceived the jovial irony and laughed. + +"It would not be turned off the field even on the Tsaritsin Meadow." + +"What?" asked the commander. + +At that moment, on the road from the town on which signalers had +been posted, two men appeared on horse back. They were an +aide-de-camp followed by a Cossack. + +The aide-de-camp was sent to confirm the order which had not been +clearly worded the day before, namely, that the commander in chief +wished to see the regiment just in the state in which it had been on +the march: in their greatcoats, and packs, and without any preparation +whatever. + +A member of the Hofkriegsrath from Vienna had come to Kutuzov the +day before with proposals and demands for him to join up with the army +of the Archduke Ferdinand and Mack, and Kutuzov, not considering +this junction advisable, meant, among other arguments in support of +his view, to show the Austrian general the wretched state in which the +troops arrived from Russia. With this object he intended to meet the +regiment; so the worse the condition it was in, the better pleased the +commander in chief would be. Though the aide-de-camp did not know +these circumstances, he nevertheless delivered the definite order that +the men should be in their greatcoats and in marching order, and +that the commander in chief would otherwise be dissatisfied. On +hearing this the regimental commander hung his head, silently shrugged +his shoulders, and spread out his arms with a choleric gesture. + +"A fine mess we've made of it!" he remarked. + +"There now! Didn't I tell you, Michael Mitrich, that if it was +said 'on the march' it meant in greatcoats?" said he reproachfully +to the battalion commander. "Oh, my God!" he added, stepping +resolutely forward. "Company commanders!" he shouted in a voice +accustomed to command. "Sergeants major!... How soon will he be here?" +he asked the aide-de-camp with a respectful politeness evidently +relating to the personage he was referring to. + +"In an hour's time, I should say." + +"Shall we have time to change clothes?" + +"I don't know, General...." + +The regimental commander, going up to the line himself, ordered +the soldiers to change into their greatcoats. The company commanders +ran off to their companies, the sergeants major began bustling (the +greatcoats were not in very good condition), and instantly the squares +that had up to then been in regular order and silent began to sway and +stretch and hum with voices. On all sides soldiers were running to and +fro, throwing up their knapsacks with a jerk of their shoulders and +pulling the straps over their heads, unstrapping their overcoats and +drawing the sleeves on with upraised arms. + +In half an hour all was again in order, only the squares had +become gray instead of black. The regimental commander walked with his +jerky steps to the front of the regiment and examined it from a +distance. + +"Whatever is this? This!" he shouted and stood still. "Commander +of the third company!" + +"Commander of the third company wanted by the general!... +commander to the general... third company to the commander." The words +passed along the lines and an adjutant ran to look for the missing +officer. + +When the eager but misrepeated words had reached their destination +in a cry of: "The general to the third company," the missing officer +appeared from behind his company and, though he was a middle-aged +man and not in the habit of running, trotted awkwardly stumbling on +his toes toward the general. The captain's face showed the +uneasiness of a schoolboy who is told to repeat a lesson he has not +learned. Spots appeared on his nose, the redness of which was +evidently due to intemperance, and his mouth twitched nervously. The +general looked the captain up and down as he came up panting, +slackening his pace as he approached. + +"You will soon be dressing your men in petticoats! What is this?" +shouted the regimental commander, thrusting forward his jaw and +pointing at a soldier in the ranks of the third company in a greatcoat +of bluish cloth, which contrasted with the others. "What have you been +after? The commander in chief is expected and you leave your place? +Eh? I'll teach you to dress the men in fancy coats for a parade.... +Eh...?" + +The commander of the company, with his eyes fixed on his superior, +pressed two fingers more and more rigidly to his cap, as if in this +pressure lay his only hope of salvation. + +"Well, why don't you speak? Whom have you got there dressed up as +a Hungarian?" said the commander with an austere gibe. + +"Your excellency..." + +"Well, your excellency, what? Your excellency! But what about your +excellency?... nobody knows." + +"Your excellency, it's the officer Dolokhov, who has been reduced to +the ranks," said the captain softly. + +"Well? Has he been degraded into a field marshal, or into a soldier? +If a soldier, he should be dressed in regulation uniform like the +others." + +"Your excellency, you gave him leave yourself, on the march." + +"Gave him leave? Leave? That's just like you young men," said the +regimental commander cooling down a little. "Leave indeed.... One says +a word to you and you... What?" he added with renewed irritation, "I +beg you to dress your men decently." + +And the commander, turning to look at the adjutant, directed his +jerky steps down the line. He was evidently pleased at his own display +of anger and walking up to the regiment wished to find a further +excuse for wrath. Having snapped at an officer for an unpolished +badge, at another because his line was not straight, he reached the +third company. + +"H-o-o-w are you standing? Where's your leg? Your leg?" shouted +the commander with a tone of suffering in his voice, while there +were still five men between him and Dolokhov with his bluish-gray +uniform. + +Dolokhov slowly straightened his bent knee, looking straight with +his clear, insolent eyes in the general's face. + +"Why a blue coat? Off with it... Sergeant major! Change his +coat... the ras..." he did not finish. + +"General, I must obey orders, but I am not bound to endure..." +Dolokhov hurriedly interrupted. + +"No talking in the ranks!... No talking, no talking!" + +"Not bound to endure insults," Dolokhov concluded in loud, ringing +tones. + +The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general became +silent, angrily pulling down his tight scarf. + +"I request you to have the goodness to change your coat," he said as +he turned away. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +"He's coming!" shouted the signaler at that moment. + +The regimental commander, flushing, ran to his horse, seized the +stirrup with trembling hands, threw his body across the saddle, +righted himself, drew his saber, and with a happy and resolute +countenance, opening his mouth awry, prepared to shout. The regiment +fluttered like a bird preening its plumage and became motionless. + +"Att-ention!" shouted the regimental commander in a soul-shaking +voice which expressed joy for himself, severity for the regiment, +and welcome for the approaching chief. + +Along the broad country road, edged on both sides by trees, came a +high, light blue Viennese caleche, slightly creaking on its springs +and drawn by six horses at a smart trot. Behind the caleche galloped +the suite and a convoy of Croats. Beside Kutuzov sat an Austrian +general, in a white uniform that looked strange among the Russian +black ones. The caleche stopped in front of the regiment. Kutuzov +and the Austrian general were talking in low voices and Kutuzov smiled +slightly as treading heavily he stepped down from the carriage just as +if those two thousand men breathlessly gazing at him and the +regimental commander did not exist. + +The word of command rang out, and again the regiment quivered, as +with a jingling sound it presented arms. Then amidst a dead silence +the feeble voice of the commander in chief was heard. The regiment +roared, "Health to your ex... len... len... lency!" and again all +became silent. At first Kutuzov stood still while the regiment +moved; then he and the general in white, accompanied by the suite, +walked between the ranks. + +From the way the regimental commander saluted the commander in chief +and devoured him with his eyes, drawing himself up obsequiously, and +from the way he walked through the ranks behind the generals, +bending forward and hardly able to restrain his jerky movements, and +from the way he darted forward at every word or gesture of the +commander in chief, it was evident that he performed his duty as a +subordinate with even greater zeal than his duty as a commander. +Thanks to the strictness and assiduity of its commander the +regiment, in comparison with others that had reached Braunau at the +same time, was in splendid condition. There were only 217 sick and +stragglers. Everything was in good order except the boots. + +Kutuzov walked through the ranks, sometimes stopping to say a few +friendly words to officers he had known in the Turkish war, +sometimes also to the soldiers. Looking at their boots he several +times shook his head sadly, pointing them out to the Austrian +general with an expression which seemed to say that he was not blaming +anyone, but could not help noticing what a bad state of things it was. +The regimental commander ran forward on each such occasion, fearing to +miss a single word of the commander in chief's regarding the regiment. +Behind Kutuzov, at a distance that allowed every softly spoken word to +be heard, followed some twenty men of his suite. These gentlemen +talked among themselves and sometimes laughed. Nearest of all to the +commander in chief walked a handsome adjutant. This was Prince +Bolkonski. Beside him was his comrade Nesvitski, a tall staff officer, +extremely stout, with a kindly, smiling, handsome face and moist eyes. +Nesvitski could hardly keep from laughter provoked by a swarthy hussar +officer who walked beside him. This hussar, with a grave face and +without a smile or a change in the expression of his fixed eyes, +watched the regimental commander's back and mimicked his every +movement. Each time the commander started and bent forward, the hussar +started and bent forward in exactly the same manner. Nesvitski laughed +and nudged the others to make them look at the wag. + +Kutuzov walked slowly and languidly past thousands of eyes which +were starting from their sockets to watch their chief. On reaching the +third company he suddenly stopped. His suite, not having expected +this, involuntarily came closer to him. + +"Ah, Timokhin!" said he, recognizing the red-nosed captain who had +been reprimanded on account of the blue greatcoat. + +One would have thought it impossible for a man to stretch himself +more than Timokhin had done when he was reprimanded by the +regimental commander, but now that the commander in chief addressed +him he drew himself up to such an extent that it seemed he could not +have sustained it had the commander in chief continued to look at him, +and so Kutuzov, who evidently understood his case and wished him +nothing but good, quickly turned away, a scarcely perceptible smile +flitting over his scarred and puffy face. + +"Another Ismail comrade," said he. "A brave officer! Are you +satisfied with him?" he asked the regimental commander. + +And the latter--unconscious that he was being reflected in the +hussar officer as in a looking glass--started, moved forward, and +answered: "Highly satisfied, your excellency!" + +"We all have our weaknesses," said Kutuzov smiling and walking +away from him. "He used to have a predilection for Bacchus." + +The regimental commander was afraid he might be blamed for this +and did not answer. The hussar at that moment noticed the face of +the red-nosed captain and his drawn-in stomach, and mimicked his +expression and pose with such exactitude that Nesvitski could not help +laughing. Kutuzov turned round. The officer evidently had complete +control of his face, and while Kutuzov was turning managed to make a +grimace and then assume a most serious, deferential, and innocent +expression. + +The third company was the last, and Kutuzov pondered, apparently +trying to recollect something. Prince Andrew stepped forward from +among the suite and said in French: + +"You told me to remind you of the officer Dolokhov, reduced to the +ranks in this regiment." + +"Where is Dolokhov?" asked Kutuzov. + +Dolokhov, who had already changed into a soldier's gray greatcoat, +did not wait to be called. The shapely figure of the fair-haired +soldier, with his clear blue eyes, stepped forward from the ranks, +went up to the commander in chief, and presented arms. + +"Have you a complaint to make?" Kutuzov asked with a slight frown. + +"This is Dolokhov," said Prince Andrew. + +"Ah!" said Kutuzov. "I hope this will be a lesson to you. Do your +duty. The Emperor is gracious, and I shan't forget you if you +deserve well." + +The clear blue eyes looked at the commander in chief just as +boldly as they had looked at the regimental commander, seeming by +their expression to tear open the veil of convention that separates +a commander in chief so widely from a private. + +"One thing I ask of your excellency," Dolokhov said in his firm, +ringing, deliberate voice. "I ask an opportunity to atone for my fault +and prove my devotion to His Majesty the Emperor and to Russia!" + +Kutuzov turned away. The same smile of the eyes with which he had +turned from Captain Timokhin again flitted over his face. He turned +away with a grimace as if to say that everything Dolokhov had said +to him and everything he could say had long been known to him, that he +was weary of it and it was not at all what he wanted. He turned away +and went to the carriage. + +The regiment broke up into companies, which went to their +appointed quarters near Braunau, where they hoped to receive boots and +clothes and to rest after their hard marches. + +"You won't bear me a grudge, Prokhor Ignatych?" said the +regimental commander, overtaking the third company on its way to its +quarters and riding up to Captain Timokhin who was walking in front. +(The regimental commander's face now that the inspection was happily +over beamed with irrepressible delight.) "It's in the Emperor's +service... it can't be helped... one is sometimes a bit hasty on +parade... I am the first to apologize, you know me!... He was very +pleased!" And he held out his hand to the captain. + +"Don't mention it, General, as if I'd be so bold!" replied the +captain, his nose growing redder as he gave a smile which showed where +two front teeth were missing that had been knocked out by the butt end +of a gun at Ismail. + +"And tell Mr. Dolokhov that I won't forget him--he may be quite easy. +And tell me, please--I've been meaning to ask--how is he behaving +himself, and in general..." + +"As far as the service goes he is quite punctilious, your +excellency; but his character..." said Timokhin. + +"And what about his character?" asked the regimental commander. + +"It's different on different days," answered the captain. "One day +he is sensible, well educated, and good-natured, and the next he's a +wild beast.... In Poland, if you please, he nearly killed a Jew." + +"Oh, well, well!" remarked the regimental commander. "Still, one +must have pity on a young man in misfortune. You know he has important +connections... Well, then, you just..." + +"I will, your excellency," said Timokhin, showing by his smile +that he understood his commander's wish. + +"Well, of course, of course!" + +The regimental commander sought out Dolokhov in the ranks and, +reining in his horse, said to him: + +"After the next affair... epaulettes." + +Dolokhov looked round but did not say anything, nor did the +mocking smile on his lips change. + +"Well, that's all right," continued the regimental commander. "A cup +of vodka for the men from me," he added so that the soldiers could +hear. "I thank you all! God be praised!" and he rode past that company +and overtook the next one. + +"Well, he's really a good fellow, one can serve under him," said +Timokhin to the subaltern beside him. + +"In a word, a hearty one..." said the subaltern, laughing (the +regimental commander was nicknamed King of Hearts). + +The cheerful mood of their officers after the inspection infected +the soldiers. The company marched on gaily. The soldiers' voices could +be heard on every side. + +"And they said Kutuzov was blind of one eye?" + +"And so he is! Quite blind!" + +"No, friend, he is sharper-eyed than you are. Boots and leg bands... +he noticed everything..." + +"When he looked at my feet, friend... well, thinks I..." + +"And that other one with him, the Austrian, looked as if he were +smeared with chalk--as white as flour! I suppose they polish him up as +they do the guns." + +"I say, Fedeshon!... Did he say when the battles are to begin? You +were near him. Everybody said that Buonaparte himself was at Braunau." + +"Buonaparte himself!... Just listen to the fool, what he doesn't +know! The Prussians are up in arms now. The Austrians, you see, are +putting them down. When they've been put down, the war with Buonaparte +will begin. And he says Buonaparte is in Braunau! Shows you're a fool. +You'd better listen more carefully!" + +"What devils these quartermasters are! See, the fifth company is +turning into the village already... they will have their buckwheat +cooked before we reach our quarters." + +"Give me a biscuit, you devil!" + +"And did you give me tobacco yesterday? That's just it, friend! +Ah, well, never mind, here you are." + +"They might call a halt here or we'll have to do another four +miles without eating." + +"Wasn't it fine when those Germans gave us lifts! You just sit still +and are drawn along." + +"And here, friend, the people are quite beggarly. There they all +seemed to be Poles--all under the Russian crown--but here they're +all regular Germans." + +"Singers to the front" came the captain's order. + +And from the different ranks some twenty men ran to the front. A +drummer, their leader, turned round facing the singers, and +flourishing his arm, began a long-drawn-out soldiers' song, commencing +with the words: "Morning dawned, the sun was rising," and +concluding: "On then, brothers, on to glory, led by Father +Kamenski." This song had been composed in the Turkish campaign and now +being sung in Austria, the only change being that the words "Father +Kamenski" were replaced by "Father Kutuzov." + +Having jerked out these last words as soldiers do and waved his arms +as if flinging something to the ground, the drummer--a lean, +handsome soldier of forty--looked sternly at the singers and screwed +up his eyes. Then having satisfied himself that all eyes were fixed on +him, he raised both arms as if carefully lifting some invisible but +precious object above his head and, holding it there for some seconds, +suddenly flung it down and began: + +"Oh, my bower, oh, my bower...!" + +"Oh, my bower new...!" chimed in twenty voices, and the castanet +player, in spite of the burden of his equipment, rushed out to the +front and, walking backwards before the company, jerked his +shoulders and flourished his castanets as if threatening someone. +The soldiers, swinging their arms and keeping time spontaneously, +marched with long steps. Behind the company the sound of wheels, the +creaking of springs, and the tramp of horses' hoofs were heard. +Kutuzov and his suite were returning to the town. The commander in +chief made a sign that the men should continue to march at ease, and +he and all his suite showed pleasure at the sound of the singing and +the sight of the dancing soldier and the gay and smartly marching men. +In the second file from the right flank, beside which the carriage +passed the company, a blue-eyed soldier involuntarily attracted +notice. It was Dolokhov marching with particular grace and boldness in +time to the song and looking at those driving past as if he pitied all +who were not at that moment marching with the company. The hussar +cornet of Kutuzov's suite who had mimicked the regimental commander, +fell back from the carriage and rode up to Dolokhov. + +Hussar cornet Zherkov had at one time, in Petersburg, belonged to +the wild set led by Dolokhov. Zherkov had met Dolokhov abroad as a +private and had not seen fit to recognize him. But now that Kutuzov +had spoken to the gentleman ranker, he addressed him with the +cordiality of an old friend. + +"My dear fellow, how are you?" said he through the singing, making +his horse keep pace with the company. + +"How am I?" Dolokhov answered coldly. "I am as you see." + +The lively song gave a special flavor to the tone of free and easy +gaiety with which Zherkov spoke, and to the intentional coldness of +Dolokhov's reply. + +"And how do you get on with the officers?" inquired Zherkov. + +"All right. They are good fellows. And how have you wriggled onto +the staff?" + +"I was attached; I'm on duty." + +Both were silent. + +"She let the hawk fly upward from her wide right sleeve," went the +song, arousing an involuntary sensation of courage and cheerfulness. +Their conversation would probably have been different but for the +effect of that song. + +"Is it true that Austrians have been beaten?" asked Dolokhov. + +"The devil only knows! They say so." + +"I'm glad," answered Dolokhov briefly and clearly, as the song +demanded. + +"I say, come round some evening and we'll have a game of faro!" said +Zherkov. + +"Why, have you too much money?" + +"Do come." + +"I can't. I've sworn not to. I won't drink and won't play till I get +reinstated." + +"Well, that's only till the first engagement." + +"We shall see." + +They were again silent. + +"Come if you need anything. One can at least be of use on the +staff..." + +Dolokhov smiled. "Don't trouble. If I want anything, I won't beg--I'll +take it!" + +"Well, never mind; I only..." + +"And I only..." + +"Good-by." + +"Good health..." + + "It's a long, long way. + To my native land..." + + +Zherkov touched his horse with the spurs; it pranced excitedly +from foot to foot uncertain with which to start, then settled down, +galloped past the company, and overtook the carriage, still keeping +time to the song. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On returning from the review, Kutuzov took the Austrian general into +his private room and, calling his adjutant, asked for some papers +relating to the condition of the troops on their arrival, and the +letters that had come from the Archduke Ferdinand, who was in +command of the advanced army. Prince Andrew Bolkonski came into the +room with the required papers. Kutuzov and the Austrian member of +the Hofkriegsrath were sitting at the table on which a plan was spread +out. + +"Ah!..." said Kutuzov glancing at Bolkonski as if by this +exclamation he was asking the adjutant to wait, and he went on with +the conversation in French. + +"All I can say, General," said he with a pleasant elegance of +expression and intonation that obliged one to listen to each +deliberately spoken word. It was evident that Kutuzov himself listened +with pleasure to his own voice. "All I can say, General, is that if +the matter depended on my personal wishes, the will of His Majesty the +Emperor Francis would have been fulfilled long ago. I should long +ago have joined the archduke. And believe me on my honour that to me +personally it would be a pleasure to hand over the supreme command +of the army into the hands of a better informed and more skillful +general--of whom Austria has so many--and to lay down all this heavy +responsibility. But circumstances are sometimes too strong for us, +General." + +And Kutuzov smiled in a way that seemed to say, "You are quite at +liberty not to believe me and I don't even care whether you do or not, +but you have no grounds for telling me so. And that is the whole +point." + +The Austrian general looked dissatisfied, but had no option but to +reply in the same tone. + +"On the contrary," he said, in a querulous and angry tone that +contrasted with his flattering words, "on the contrary, your +excellency's participation in the common action is highly valued by +His Majesty; but we think the present delay is depriving the +splendid Russian troops and their commander of the laurels they have +been accustomed to win in their battles," he concluded his evidently +prearranged sentence. + +Kutuzov bowed with the same smile. + +"But that is my conviction, and judging by the last letter with +which His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand has honored me, I imagine +that the Austrian troops, under the direction of so skillful a +leader as General Mack, have by now already gained a decisive +victory and no longer need our aid," said Kutuzov. + +The general frowned. Though there was no definite news of an +Austrian defeat, there were many circumstances confirming the +unfavorable rumors that were afloat, and so Kutuzov's suggestion of an +Austrian victory sounded much like irony. But Kutuzov went on +blandly smiling with the same expression, which seemed to say that +he had a right to suppose so. And, in fact, the last letter he had +received from Mack's army informed him of a victory and stated +strategically the position of the army was very favorable. + +"Give me that letter," said Kutuzov turning to Prince Andrew. +"Please have a look at it"--and Kutuzov with an ironical smile about +the corners of his mouth read to the Austrian general the following +passage, in German, from the Archduke Ferdinand's letter: + + +We have fully concentrated forces of nearly seventy thousand men +with which to attack and defeat the enemy should he cross the Lech. +Also, as we are masters of Ulm, we cannot be deprived of the advantage +of commanding both sides of the Danube, so that should the enemy not +cross the Lech, we can cross the Danube, throw ourselves on his line +of communications, recross the river lower down, and frustrate his +intention should he try to direct his whole force against our faithful +ally. We shall therefore confidently await the moment when the +Imperial Russian army will be fully equipped, and shall then, in +conjunction with it, easily find a way to prepare for the enemy the +fate he deserves. + + +Kutuzov sighed deeply on finishing this paragraph and looked at +the member of the Hofkriegsrath mildly and attentively. + +"But you know the wise maxim your excellency, advising one to expect +the worst," said the Austrian general, evidently wishing to have +done with jests and to come to business. He involuntarily looked round +at the aide-de-camp. + +"Excuse me, General," interrupted Kutuzov, also turning to Prince +Andrew. "Look here, my dear fellow, get from Kozlovski all the reports +from our scouts. Here are two letters from Count Nostitz and here is +one from His Highness the Archduke Ferdinand and here are these," he +said, handing him several papers, "make a neat memorandum in French +out of all this, showing all the news we have had of the movements +of the Austrian army, and then give it to his excellency." + +Prince Andrew bowed his head in token of having understood from +the first not only what had been said but also what Kutuzov would have +liked to tell him. He gathered up the papers and with a bow to both, +stepped softly over the carpet and went out into the waiting room. + +Though not much time had passed since Prince Andrew had left Russia, +he had changed greatly during that period. In the expression of his +face, in his movements, in his walk, scarcely a trace was left of +his former affected languor and indolence. He now looked like a man +who has time to think of the impression he makes on others, but is +occupied with agreeable and interesting work. His face expressed +more satisfaction with himself and those around him, his smile and +glance were brighter and more attractive. + +Kutuzov, whom he had overtaken in Poland, had received him very +kindly, promised not to forget him, distinguished him above the +other adjutants, and had taken him to Vienna and given him the more +serious commissions. From Vienna Kutuzov wrote to his old comrade, +Prince Andrew's father. + + +Your son bids fair to become an officer distinguished by his +industry, firmness, and expedition. I consider myself fortunate to +have such a subordinate by me. + + +On Kutuzov's staff, among his fellow officers and in the army +generally, Prince Andrew had, as he had had in Petersburg society, two +quite opposite reputations. Some, a minority, acknowledged him to be +different from themselves and from everyone else, expected great +things of him, listened to him, admired, and imitated him, and with +them Prince Andrew was natural and pleasant. Others, the majority, +disliked him and considered him conceited, cold, and disagreeable. But +among these people Prince Andrew knew how to take his stand so that +they respected and even feared him. + +Coming out of Kutuzov's room into the waiting room with the papers +in his hand Prince Andrew came up to his comrade, the aide-de-camp +on duty, Kozlovski, who was sitting at the window with a book. + +"Well, Prince?" asked Kozlovski. + +"I am ordered to write a memorandum explaining why we are not +advancing." + +"And why is it?" + +Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders. + +"Any news from Mack?" + +"No." + +"If it were true that he has been beaten, news would have come." + +"Probably," said Prince Andrew moving toward the outer door. + +But at that instant a tall Austrian general in a greatcoat, with the +order of Maria Theresa on his neck and a black bandage round his head, +who had evidently just arrived, entered quickly, slamming the door. +Prince Andrew stopped short. + +"Commander in Chief Kutuzov?" said the newly arrived general +speaking quickly with a harsh German accent, looking to both sides and +advancing straight toward the inner door. + +"The commander in chief is engaged," said Kozlovski, going hurriedly +up to the unknown general and blocking his way to the door. "Whom +shall I announce?" + +The unknown general looked disdainfully down at Kozlovski, who was +rather short, as if surprised that anyone should not know him. + +"The commander in chief is engaged," repeated Kozlovski calmly. + +The general's face clouded, his lips quivered and trembled. He +took out a notebook, hurriedly scribbled something in pencil, tore out +the leaf, gave it to Kozlovski, stepped quickly to the window, and +threw himself into a chair, gazing at those in the room as if +asking, "Why do they look at me?" Then he lifted his head, stretched +his neck as if he intended to say something, but immediately, with +affected indifference, began to hum to himself, producing a queer +sound which immediately broke off. The door of the private room opened +and Kutuzov appeared in the doorway. The general with the bandaged +head bent forward as though running away from some danger, and, making +long, quick strides with his thin legs, went up to Kutuzov. + +"Vous voyez le malheureux Mack," he uttered in a broken voice. + +Kutuzov's face as he stood in the open doorway remained perfectly +immobile for a few moments. Then wrinkles ran over his face like a +wave and his forehead became smooth again, he bowed his head +respectfully, closed his eyes, silently let Mack enter his room before +him, and closed the door himself behind him. + +The report which had been circulated that the Austrians had been +beaten and that the whole army had surrendered at Ulm proved to be +correct. Within half an hour adjutants had been sent in various +directions with orders which showed that the Russian troops, who had +hitherto been inactive, would also soon have to meet the enemy. + +Prince Andrew was one of those rare staff officers whose chief +interest lay in the general progress of the war. When he saw Mack +and heard the details of his disaster he understood that half the +campaign was lost, understood all the difficulties of the Russian +army's position, and vividly imagined what awaited it and the part +he would have to play. Involuntarily he felt a joyful agitation at the +thought of the humiliation of arrogant Austria and that in a week's +time he might, perhaps, see and take part in the first Russian +encounter with the French since Suvorov met them. He feared that +Bonaparte's genius might outweigh all the courage of the Russian +troops, and at the same time could not admit the idea of his hero +being disgraced. + +Excited and irritated by these thoughts Prince Andrew went toward +his room to write to his father, to whom he wrote every day. In the +corridor he met Nesvitski, with whom he shared a room, and the wag +Zherkov; they were as usual laughing. + +"Why are you so glum?" asked Nesvitski noticing Prince Andrew's pale +face and glittering eyes. + +"There's nothing to be gay about," answered Bolkonski. + +Just as Prince Andrew met Nesvitski and Zherkov, there came toward +them from the other end of the corridor, Strauch, an Austrian +general who on Kutuzov's staff in charge of the provisioning of the +Russian army, and the member of the Hofkriegsrath who had arrived +the previous evening. There was room enough in the wide corridor for +the generals to pass the three officers quite easily, but Zherkov, +pushing Nesvitski aside with his arm, said in a breathless voice, + +"They're coming!... they're coming!... Stand aside, make way, please +make way!" + +The generals were passing by, looking as if they wished to avoid +embarrassing attentions. On the face of the wag Zherkov there suddenly +appeared a stupid smile of glee which he seemed unable to suppress. + +"Your excellency," said he in German, stepping forward and +addressing the Austrian general, "I have the honor to congratulate +you." + +He bowed his head and scraped first with one foot and then with +the other, awkwardly, like a child at a dancing lesson. + +The member of the Hofkriegsrath looked at him severely but, seeing +the seriousness of his stupid smile, could not but give him a moment's +attention. He screwed up his eyes showing that he was listening. + +"I have the honor to congratulate you. General Mack has arrived, +quite well, only a little bruised just here," he added, pointing +with a beaming smile to his head. + +The general frowned, turned away, and went on. + +"Gott, wie naiv!"* said he angrily, after he had gone a few steps. + +*"Good God, what simplicity!" + + +Nesvitski with a laugh threw his arms round Prince Andrew, but +Bolkonski, turning still paler, pushed him away with an angry look and +turned to Zherkov. The nervous irritation aroused by the appearance of +Mack, the news of his defeat, and the thought of what lay before the +Russian army found vent in anger at Zherkov's untimely jest. + +"If you, sir, choose to make a buffoon of yourself," he said +sharply, with a slight trembling of the lower jaw, "I can't prevent +your doing so; but I warn you that if you dare to play the fool in +my presence, I will teach you to behave yourself." + +Nesvitski and Zherkov were so surprised by this outburst that they +gazed at Bolkonski silently with wide-open eyes. + +"What's the matter? I only congratulated them," said Zherkov. + +"I am not jesting with you; please be silent!" cried Bolkonski, +and taking Nesvitski's arm he left Zherkov, who did not know what to +say. + +"Come, what's the matter, old fellow?" said Nesvitski trying to +soothe him. + +"What's the matter?" exclaimed Prince Andrew standing still in his +excitement. "Don't you understand that either we are officers serving +our Tsar and our country, rejoicing in the successes and grieving at +the misfortunes of our common cause, or we are merely lackeys who care +nothing for their master's business. Quarante mille hommes massacres +et l'armee de nos allies detruite, et vous trouvez la le mot pour +rire,"* he said, as if strengthening his views by this French +sentence. "C'est bien pour un garcon de rien comme cet individu dont +vous avez fait un ami, mais pas pour vous, pas pour vous.*[2] Only a +hobbledehoy could amuse himself in this way," he added in Russian--but +pronouncing the word with a French accent--having noticed that Zherkov +could still hear him. + + +*"Forty thousand men massacred and the army of our allies destroyed, +and you find that a cause for jesting!" + +*[2] "It is all very well for that good-for-nothing fellow of whom +you have made a friend, but not for you, not for you." + + +He waited a moment to see whether the cornet would answer, but he +turned and went out of the corridor. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The Pavlograd Hussars were stationed two miles from Braunau. The +squadron in which Nicholas Rostov served as a cadet was quartered in +the German village of Salzeneck. The best quarters in the village were +assigned to cavalry-captain Denisov, the squadron commander, known +throughout the whole cavalry division as Vaska Denisov. Cadet +Rostov, ever since he had overtaken the regiment in Poland, had +lived with the squadron commander. + +On October 11, the day when all was astir at headquarters over the +news of Mack's defeat, the camp life of the officers of this +squadron was proceeding as usual. Denisov, who had been losing at +cards all night, had not yet come home when Rostov rode back early +in the morning from a foraging expedition. Rostov in his cadet +uniform, with a jerk to his horse, rode up to the porch, swung his leg +over the saddle with a supple youthful movement, stood for a moment in +the stirrup as if loathe to part from his horse, and at last sprang +down and called to his orderly. + +"Ah, Bondarenko, dear friend!" said he to the hussar who rushed up +headlong to the horse. "Walk him up and down, my dear fellow," he +continued, with that gay brotherly cordiality which goodhearted +young people show to everyone when they are happy. + +"Yes, your excellency," answered the Ukrainian gaily, tossing his +head. + +"Mind, walk him up and down well!" + +Another hussar also rushed toward the horse, but Bondarenko had +already thrown the reins of the snaffle bridle over the horse's +head. It was evident that the cadet was liberal with his tips and that +it paid to serve him. Rostov patted the horse's neck and then his +flank, and lingered for a moment. + +"Splendid! What a horse he will be!" he thought with a smile, and +holding up his saber, his spurs jingling, he ran up the steps of the +porch. His landlord, who in a waistcoat and a pointed cap, pitchfork +in hand, was clearing manure from the cowhouse, looked out, and his +face immediately brightened on seeing Rostov. "Schon gut Morgen! Schon +gut Morgen!"* he said winking with a merry smile, evidently pleased to +greet the young man. + + +*"A very good morning! A very good morning!" + + +"Schon fleissig?"* said Rostov with the same gay brotherly smile +which did not leave his eager face. "Hoch Oestreicher! Hoch Russen! +Kaiser Alexander hoch!"*[2] said he, quoting words often repeated by +the German landlord. + + +*"Busy already?" + +*[2] "Hurrah for the Austrians! Hurrah for the Russians! Hurrah +for Emperor Alexander!" + + +The German laughed, came out of the cowshed, pulled off his cap, and +waving it above his head cried: + +"Und die ganze Welt hoch!"* + + +*"And hurrah for the whole world!" + + +Rostov waved his cap above his head like the German and cried +laughing, "Und vivat die ganze Welt!" Though neither the German +cleaning his cowshed nor Rostov back with his platoon from foraging +for hay had any reason for rejoicing, they looked at each other with +joyful delight and brotherly love, wagged their heads in token of +their mutual affection, and parted smiling, the German returning to +his cowshed and Rostov going to the cottage he occupied with Denisov. + +"What about your master?" he asked Lavrushka, Denisov's orderly, +whom all the regiment knew for a rogue. + +"Hasn't been in since the evening. Must have been losing," +answered Lavrushka. "I know by now, if he wins he comes back early +to brag about it, but if he stays out till morning it means he's +lost and will come back in a rage. Will you have coffee?" + +"Yes, bring some." + +Ten minutes later Lavrushka brought the coffee. "He's coming!" +said he. "Now for trouble!" Rostov looked out of the window and saw +Denisov coming home. Denisov was a small man with a red face, +sparkling black eyes, and black tousled mustache and hair. He wore +an unfastened cloak, wide breeches hanging down in creases, and a +crumpled shako on the back of his head. He came up to the porch +gloomily, hanging his head. + +"Lavwuska!" he shouted loudly and angrily, "take it off, blockhead!" + +"Well, I am taking it off," replied Lavrushka's voice. + +"Ah, you're up already," said Denisov, entering the room. + +"Long ago," answered Rostov, "I have already been for the hay, and +have seen Fraulein Mathilde." + +"Weally! And I've been losing, bwother. I lost yesterday like a +damned fool!" cried Denisov, not pronouncing his r's. "Such ill +luck! Such ill luck. As soon as you left, it began and went on. +Hullo there! Tea!" + +Puckering up his face though smiling, and showing his short strong +teeth, he began with stubby fingers of both hands to ruffle up his +thick tangled black hair. + +"And what devil made me go to that wat?" (an officer nicknamed +"the rat") he said, rubbing his forehead and whole face with both +hands. "Just fancy, he didn't let me win a single cahd, not one cahd." + +He took the lighted pipe that was offered to him, gripped it in +his fist, and tapped it on the floor, making the sparks fly, while +he continued to shout. + +"He lets one win the singles and collahs it as soon as one doubles +it; gives the singles and snatches the doubles!" + +He scattered the burning tobacco, smashed the pipe, and threw it +away. Then he remained silent for a while, and all at once looked +cheerfully with his glittering, black eyes at Rostov. + +"If at least we had some women here; but there's nothing foh one +to do but dwink. If we could only get to fighting soon. Hullo, who's +there?" he said, turning to the door as he heard a tread of heavy +boots and the clinking of spurs that came to a stop, and a +respectful cough. + +"The squadron quartermaster!" said Lavrushka. + +Denisov's face puckered still more. + +"Wetched!" he muttered, throwing down a purse with some gold in +it. "Wostov, deah fellow, just see how much there is left and shove +the purse undah the pillow," he said, and went out to the +quartermaster. + +Rostov took the money and, mechanically arranging the old and new +coins in separate piles, began counting them. + +"Ah! Telyanin! How d'ye do? They plucked me last night," came +Denisov's voice from the next room. + +"Where? At Bykov's, at the rat's... I knew it," replied a piping +voice, and Lieutenant Telyanin, a small officer of the same +squadron, entered the room. + +Rostov thrust the purse under the pillow and shook the damp little +hand which was offered him. Telyanin for some reason had been +transferred from the Guards just before this campaign. He behaved very +well in the regiment but was not liked; Rostov especially detested him +and was unable to overcome or conceal his groundless antipathy to +the man. + +"Well, young cavalryman, how is my Rook behaving?" he asked. (Rook +was a young horse Telyanin had sold to Rostov.) + +The lieutenant never looked the man he was speaking to straight in +the face; his eyes continually wandered from one object to another. + +"I saw you riding this morning..." he added. + +"Oh, he's all right, a good horse," answered Rostov, though the +horse for which he had paid seven hundred rubbles was not worth half +that sum. "He's begun to go a little lame on the left foreleg," he +added. + +"The hoof's cracked! That's nothing. I'll teach you what to do and +show you what kind of rivet to use." + +"Yes, please do," said Rostov. + +"I'll show you, I'll show you! It's not a secret. And it's a horse +you'll thank me for." + +"Then I'll have it brought round," said Rostov wishing to avoid +Telyanin, and he went out to give the order. + +In the passage Denisov, with a pipe, was squatting on the +threshold facing the quartermaster who was reporting to him. On seeing +Rostov, Denisov screwed up his face and pointing over his shoulder +with his thumb to the room where Telyanin was sitting, he frowned +and gave a shudder of disgust. + +"Ugh! I don't like that fellow," he said, regardless of the +quartermaster's presence. + +Rostov shrugged his shoulders as much as to say: "Nor do I, but +what's one to do?" and, having given his order, he returned to +Telyanin. + +Telyanin was sitting in the same indolent pose in which Rostov had +left him, rubbing his small white hands. + +"Well there certainly are disgusting people," thought Rostov as he +entered. + +"Have you told them to bring the horse?" asked Telyanin, getting +up and looking carelessly about him. + +"I have." + +"Let us go ourselves. I only came round to ask Denisov about +yesterday's order. Have you got it, Denisov?" + +"Not yet. But where are you off to?" + +"I want to teach this young man how to shoe a horse," said Telyanin. + +They went through the porch and into the stable. The lieutenant +explained how to rivet the hoof and went away to his own quarters. + +When Rostov went back there was a bottle of vodka and a sausage on +the table. Denisov was sitting there scratching with his pen on a +sheet of paper. He looked gloomily in Rostov's face and said: "I am +witing to her." + +He leaned his elbows on the table with his pen in his hand and, +evidently glad of a chance to say quicker in words what he wanted to +write, told Rostov the contents of his letter. + +"You see, my fwiend," he said, "we sleep when we don't love. We +are childwen of the dust... but one falls in love and one is a God, +one is pua' as on the first day of cweation... Who's that now? Send +him to the devil, I'm busy!" he shouted to Lavrushka, who went up to +him not in the least abashed. + +"Who should it be? You yourself told him to come. It's the +quartermaster for the money." + +Denisov frowned and was about to shout some reply but stopped. + +"Wetched business," he muttered to himself. "How much is left in the +puhse?" he asked, turning to Rostov. + +"Seven new and three old imperials." + +"Oh, it's wetched! Well, what are you standing there for, you +sca'cwow? Call the quahtehmasteh," he shouted to Lavrushka. + +"Please, Denisov, let me lend you some: I have some, you know," said +Rostov, blushing. + +"Don't like bowwowing from my own fellows, I don't," growled +Denisov. + +"But if you won't accept money from me like a comrade, you will +offend me. Really I have some," Rostov repeated. + +"No, I tell you." + +And Denisov went to the bed to get the purse from under the pillow. + +"Where have you put it, Wostov?" + +"Under the lower pillow." + +"It's not there." + +Denisov threw both pillows on the floor. The purse was not there. + +"That's a miwacle." + +"Wait, haven't you dropped it?" said Rostov, picking up the +pillows one at a time and shaking them. + +He pulled off the quilt and shook it. The purse was not there. + +"Dear me, can I have forgotten? No, I remember thinking that you +kept it under your head like a treasure," said Rostov. "I put it +just here. Where is it?" he asked, turning to Lavrushka. + +"I haven't been in the room. It must be where you put it." + +"But it isn't?..." + +"You're always like that; you thwow a thing down anywhere and forget +it. Feel in your pockets." + +"No, if I hadn't thought of it being a treasure," said Rostov, +"but I remember putting it there." + +Lavrushka turned all the bedding over, looked under the bed and +under the table, searched everywhere, and stood still in the middle of +the room. Denisov silently watched Lavrushka's movements, and when the +latter threw up his arms in surprise saying it was nowhere to be found +Denisov glanced at Rostov. + +"Wostov, you've not been playing schoolboy twicks..." + +Rostov felt Denisov's gaze fixed on him, raised his eyes, and +instantly dropped them again. All the blood which had seemed congested +somewhere below his throat rushed to his face and eyes. He could not +draw breath. + +"And there hasn't been anyone in the room except the lieutenant +and yourselves. It must be here somewhere," said Lavrushka. + +"Now then, you devil's puppet, look alive and hunt for it!" +shouted Denisov, suddenly, turning purple and rushing at the man +with a threatening gesture. "If the purse isn't found I'll flog you, +I'll flog you all." + +Rostov, his eyes avoiding Denisov, began buttoning his coat, buckled +on his saber, and put on his cap. + +"I must have that purse, I tell you," shouted Denisov, shaking his +orderly by the shoulders and knocking him against the wall. + +"Denisov, let him alone, I know who has taken it," said Rostov, +going toward the door without raising his eyes. Denisov paused, +thought a moment, and, evidently understanding what Rostov hinted +at, seized his arm. + +"Nonsense!" he cried, and the veins on his forehead and neck stood +out like cords. "You are mad, I tell you. I won't allow it. The +purse is here! I'll flay this scoundwel alive, and it will be found." + +"I know who has taken it," repeated Rostov in an unsteady voice, and +went to the door. + +"And I tell you, don't you dahe to do it!" shouted Denisov, +rushing at the cadet to restrain him. + +But Rostov pulled away his arm and, with as much anger as though +Denisov were his worst enemy, firmly fixed his eyes directly on his +face. + +"Do you understand what you're saying?" he said in a trembling +voice. "There was no one else in the room except myself. So that if it +is not so, then..." + +He could not finish, and ran out of the room. + +"Ah, may the devil take you and evewybody," were the last words +Rostov heard. + +Rostov went to Telyanin's quarters. + +"The master is not in, he's gone to headquarters," said Telyanin's +orderly. "Has something happened?" he added, surprised at the +cadet's troubled face. + +"No, nothing." + +"You've only just missed him," said the orderly. + +The headquarters were situated two miles away from Salzeneck, and +Rostov, without returning home, took a horse and rode there. There was +an inn in the village which the officers frequented. Rostov rode up to +it and saw Telyanin's horse at the porch. + +In the second room of the inn the lieutenant was sitting over a dish +of sausages and a bottle of wine. + +"Ah, you've come here too, young man!" he said, smiling and +raising his eyebrows. + +"Yes," said Rostov as if it cost him a great deal to utter the word; +and he sat down at the nearest table. + +Both were silent. There were two Germans and a Russian officer in +the room. No one spoke and the only sounds heard were the clatter of +knives and the munching of the lieutenant. + +When Telyanin had finished his lunch he took out of his pocket a +double purse and, drawing its rings aside with his small, white, +turned-up fingers, drew out a gold imperial, and lifting his +eyebrows gave it to the waiter. + +"Please be quick," he said. + +The coin was a new one. Rostov rose and went up to Telyanin. + +"Allow me to look at your purse," he said in a low, almost +inaudible, voice. + +With shifting eyes but eyebrows still raised, Telyanin handed him +the purse. + +"Yes, it's a nice purse. Yes, yes," he said, growing suddenly +pale, and added, "Look at it, young man." + +Rostov took the purse in his hand, examined it and the money in +it, and looked at Telyanin. The lieutenant was looking about in his +usual way and suddenly seemed to grow very merry. + +"If we get to Vienna I'll get rid of it there but in these +wretched little towns there's nowhere to spend it," said he. "Well, +let me have it, young man, I'm going." + +Rostov did not speak. + +"And you? Are you going to have lunch too? They feed you quite +decently here," continued Telyanin. "Now then, let me have it." + +He stretched out his hand to take hold of the purse. Rostov let go +of it. Telyanin took the purse and began carelessly slipping it into +the pocket of his riding breeches, with his eyebrows lifted and his +mouth slightly open, as if to say, "Yes, yes, I am putting my purse in +my pocket and that's quite simple and is no one else's business." + +"Well, young man?" he said with a sigh, and from under his lifted +brows he glanced into Rostov's eyes. + +Some flash as of an electric spark shot from Telyanin's eyes to +Rostov's and back, and back again and again in an instant. + +"Come here," said Rostov, catching hold of Telyanin's arm and almost +dragging him to the window. "That money is Denisov's; you took +it..." he whispered just above Telyanin's ear. + +"What? What? How dare you? What?" said Telyanin. + +But these words came like a piteous, despairing cry and an +entreaty for pardon. As soon as Rostov heard them, an enormous load of +doubt fell from him. He was glad, and at the same instant began to +pity the miserable man who stood before him, but the task he had begun +had to be completed. + +"Heaven only knows what the people here may imagine," muttered +Telyanin, taking up his cap and moving toward a small empty room. +"We must have an explanation..." + +"I know it and shall prove it," said Rostov. + +"I..." + +Every muscle of Telyanin's pale, terrified face began to quiver, his +eyes still shifted from side to side but with a downward look not +rising to Rostov's face, and his sobs were audible. + +"Count!... Don't ruin a young fellow... here is this wretched money, +take it..." He threw it on the table. "I have an old father and +mother!..." + +Rostov took the money, avoiding Telyanin's eyes, and went out of the +room without a word. But at the door he stopped and then retraced +his steps. "O God," he said with tears in his eyes, "how could you +do it?" + +"Count..." said Telyanin drawing nearer to him. + +"Don't touch me," said Rostov, drawing back. "If you need it, take +the money," and he threw the purse to him and ran out of the inn. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +That same evening there was an animated discussion among the +squadron's officers in Denisov's quarters. + +"And I tell you, Rostov, that you must apologize to the colonel!" +said a tall, grizzly-haired staff captain, with enormous mustaches and +many wrinkles on his large features, to Rostov who was crimson with +excitement. + +The staff captain, Kirsten, had twice been reduced to the ranks +for affairs of honor and had twice regained his commission. + +"I will allow no one to call me a liar!" cried Rostov. "He told me I +lied, and I told him he lied. And there it rests. He may keep me on +duty every day, or may place me under arrest, but no one can make me +apologize, because if he, as commander of this regiment, thinks it +beneath his dignity to give me satisfaction, then..." + +"You just wait a moment, my dear fellow, and listen," interrupted +the staff captain in his deep bass, calmly stroking his long mustache. +"You tell the colonel in the presence of other officers that an +officer has stolen..." + +"I'm not to blame that the conversation began in the presence of +other officers. Perhaps I ought not to have spoken before them, but +I am not a diplomatist. That's why I joined the hussars, thinking that +here one would not need finesse; and he tells me that I am lying--so +let him give me satisfaction..." + +"That's all right. No one thinks you a coward, but that's not the +point. Ask Denisov whether it is not out of the question for a cadet +to demand satisfaction of his regimental commander?" + +Denisov sat gloomily biting his mustache and listening to the +conversation, evidently with no wish to take part in it. He answered +the staff captain's question by a disapproving shake of his head. + +"You speak to the colonel about this nasty business before other +officers," continued the staff captain, "and Bogdanich" (the colonel +was called Bogdanich) "shuts you up." + +"He did not shut me up, he said I was telling an untruth." + +"Well, have it so, and you talked a lot of nonsense to him and +must apologize." + +"Not on any account!" exclaimed Rostov. + +"I did not expect this of you," said the staff captain seriously and +severely. "You don't wish to apologize, but, man, it's not only to him +but to the whole regiment--all of us--you're to blame all round. The +case is this: you ought to have thought the matter over and taken +advice; but no, you go and blurt it all straight out before the +officers. Now what was the colonel to do? Have the officer tried and +disgrace the whole regiment? Disgrace the whole regiment because of +one scoundrel? Is that how you look at it? We don't see it like +that. And Bogdanich was a brick: he told you you were saying what +was not true. It's not pleasant, but what's to be done, my dear +fellow? You landed yourself in it. And now, when one wants to smooth +the thing over, some conceit prevents your apologizing, and you wish +to make the whole affair public. You are offended at being put on duty +a bit, but why not apologize to an old and honorable officer? Whatever +Bogdanich may be, anyway he is an honorable and brave old colonel! +You're quick at taking offense, but you don't mind disgracing the +whole regiment!" The staff captain's voice began to tremble. "You have +been in the regiment next to no time, my lad, you're here today and +tomorrow you'll be appointed adjutant somewhere and can snap your +fingers when it is said 'There are thieves among the Pavlograd +officers!' But it's not all the same to us! Am I not right, Denisov? +It's not the same!" + +Denisov remained silent and did not move, but occasionally looked +with his glittering black eyes at Rostov. + +"You value your own pride and don't wish to apologize," continued +the staff captain, "but we old fellows, who have grown up in and, +God willing, are going to die in the regiment, we prize the honor of +the regiment, and Bogdanich knows it. Oh, we do prize it, old +fellow! And all this is not right, it's not right! You may take +offense or not but I always stick to mother truth. It's not right!" + +And the staff captain rose and turned away from Rostov. + +"That's twue, devil take it!" shouted Denisov, jumping up. "Now then, +Wostov, now then!" + + Rostov, growing red and pale alternately, looked first at one +officer and then at the other. + +"No, gentlemen, no... you mustn't think... I quite understand. +You're wrong to think that of me... I... for me... for the honor of +the regiment I'd... Ah well, I'll show that in action, and for me +the honor of the flag... Well, never mind, it's true I'm to blame, +to blame all round. Well, what else do you want?..." + +"Come, that's right, Count!" cried the staff captain, turning +round and clapping Rostov on the shoulder with his big hand. + +"I tell you," shouted Denisov, "he's a fine fellow." + +"That's better, Count," said the staff captain, beginning to address +Rostov by his title, as if in recognition of his confession. "Go and +apologize, your excellency. Yes, go!" + +"Gentlemen, I'll do anything. No one shall hear a word from me," +said Rostov in an imploring voice, "but I can't apologize, by God I +can't, do what you will! How can I go and apologize like a little +boy asking forgiveness?" + +Denisov began to laugh. + +"It'll be worse for you. Bogdanich is vindictive and you'll pay +for your obstinacy," said Kirsten. + +"No, on my word it's not obstinacy! I can't describe the feeling. +I can't..." + +"Well, it's as you like," said the staff captain. "And what has +become of that scoundrel?" he asked Denisov. + +"He has weported himself sick, he's to be stwuck off the list +tomowwow," muttered Denisov. + +"It is an illness, there's no other way of explaining it," said +the staff captain. + +"Illness or not, he'd better not cwoss my path. I'd kill him!" +shouted Denisov in a bloodthirsty tone. + +Just then Zherkov entered the room. + +"What brings you here?" cried the officers turning to the newcomer. + +"We're to go into action, gentlemen! Mack has surrendered with his +whole army." + +"It's not true!" + +"I've seen him myself!" + +"What? Saw the real Mack? With hands and feet?" + +"Into action! Into action! Bring him a bottle for such news! But how +did you come here?" + +"I've been sent back to the regiment all on account of that devil, +Mack. An Austrian general complained of me. I congratulated him on +Mack's arrival... What's the matter, Rostov? You look as if you'd just +come out of a hot bath." + +"Oh, my dear fellow, we're in such a stew here these last two days." + +The regimental adjutant came in and confirmed the news brought by +Zherkov. They were under orders to advance next day. + +"We're going into action, gentlemen!" + +"Well, thank God! We've been sitting here too long!" + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Kutuzov fell back toward Vienna, destroying behind him the bridges +over the rivers Inn (at Braunau) and Traun (near Linz). On October +23 the Russian troops were crossing the river Enns. At midday the +Russian baggage train, the artillery, and columns of troops were +defiling through the town of Enns on both sides of the bridge. + +It was a warm, rainy, autumnal day. The wide expanse that opened out +before the heights on which the Russian batteries stood guarding the +bridge was at times veiled by a diaphanous curtain of slanting rain, +and then, suddenly spread out in the sunlight, far-distant objects +could be clearly seen glittering as though freshly varnished. Down +below, the little town could be seen with its white, red-roofed +houses, its cathedral, and its bridge, on both sides of which streamed +jostling masses of Russian troops. At the bend of the Danube, vessels, +an island, and a castle with a park surrounded by the waters of the +confluence of the Enns and the Danube became visible, and the rocky +left bank of the Danube covered with pine forests, with a mystic +background of green treetops and bluish gorges. The turrets of a +convent stood out beyond a wild virgin pine forest, and far away on +the other side of the Enns the enemy's horse patrols could be +discerned. + +Among the field guns on the brow of the hill the general in +command of the rearguard stood with a staff officer, scanning the +country through his fieldglass. A little behind them Nesvitski, who +had been sent to the rearguard by the commander in chief, was +sitting on the trail of a gun carriage. A Cossack who accompanied +him had handed him a knapsack and a flask, and Nesvitski was +treating some officers to pies and real doppelkummel. The officers +gladly gathered round him, some on their knees, some squatting Turkish +fashion on the wet grass. + +"Yes, the Austrian prince who built that castle was no fool. It's +a fine place! Why are you not eating anything, gentlemen?" Nesvitski +was saying. + +"Thank you very much, Prince," answered one of the officers, pleased +to be talking to a staff officer of such importance. "It's a lovely +place! We passed close to the park and saw two deer... and what a +splendid house!" + +"Look, Prince," said another, who would have dearly liked to take +another pie but felt shy, and therefore pretended to be examining +the countryside--"See, our infantrymen have already got there. Look +there in the meadow behind the village, three of them are dragging +something. They'll ransack that castle," he remarked with evident +approval. + +"So they will," said Nesvitski. "No, but what I should like," +added he, munching a pie in his moist-lipped handsome mouth, "would be +to slip in over there." + +He pointed with a smile to a turreted nunnery, and his eyes narrowed +and gleamed. + +"That would be fine, gentlemen!" + +The officers laughed. + +"Just to flutter the nuns a bit. They say there are Italian girls +among them. On my word I'd give five years of my life for it!" + +"They must be feeling dull, too," said one of the bolder officers, +laughing. + +Meanwhile the staff officer standing in front pointed out +something to the general, who looked through his field glass. + +"Yes, so it is, so it is," said the general angrily, lowering the +field glass and shrugging his shoulders, "so it is! They'll be fired +on at the crossing. And why are they dawdling there?" + +On the opposite side the enemy could be seen by the naked eye, and +from their battery a milk-white cloud arose. Then came the distant +report of a shot, and our troops could be seen hurrying to the +crossing. + +Nesvitski rose, puffing, and went up to the general, smiling. + +"Would not your excellency like a little refreshment?" he said. + +"It's a bad business," said the general without answering him, +"our men have been wasting time." + +"Hadn't I better ride over, your excellency?" asked Nesvitski. + +"Yes, please do," answered the general, and he repeated the order +that had already once been given in detail: "and tell the hussars that +they are to cross last and to fire the bridge as I ordered; and the +inflammable material on the bridge must be reinspected." + +"Very good," answered Nesvitski. + +He called the Cossack with his horse, told him to put away the +knapsack and flask, and swung his heavy person easily into the saddle. + +"I'll really call in on the nuns," he said to the officers who +watched him smilingly, and he rode off by the winding path down the +hill. + +"Now then, let's see how far it will carry, Captain. Just try!" said +the general, turning to an artillery officer. "Have a little fun to +pass the time." + +"Crew, to your guns!" commanded the officer. + +In a moment the men came running gaily from their campfires and +began loading. + +"One!" came the command. + +Number one jumped briskly aside. The gun rang out with a deafening +metallic roar, and a whistling grenade flew above the heads of our +troops below the hill and fell far short of the enemy, a little +smoke showing the spot where it burst. + +The faces of officers and men brightened up at the sound. Everyone +got up and began watching the movements of our troops below, as +plainly visible as if but a stone's throw away, and the movements of +the approaching enemy farther off. At the same instant the sun came +fully out from behind the clouds, and the clear sound of the +solitary shot and the brilliance of the bright sunshine merged in a +single joyous and spirited impression. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Two of the enemy's shots had already flown across the bridge, +where there was a crush. Halfway across stood Prince Nesvitski, who +had alighted from his horse and whose big body was jammed +against the railings. He looked back laughing to the Cossack who stood +a few steps behind him holding two horses by their bridles. Each +time Prince Nesvitski tried to move on, soldiers and carts pushed +him back again and pressed him against the railings, and all he +could do was to smile. + +"What a fine fellow you are, friend!" said the Cossack to a convoy +soldier with a wagon, who was pressing onto the infantrymen who were +crowded together close to his wheels and his horses. "What a fellow! +You can't wait a moment! Don't you see the general wants to pass?" + +But the convoyman took no notice of the word "general" and shouted +at the soldiers who were blocking his way. "Hi there, boys! Keep to +the left! Wait a bit." But the soldiers, crowded together shoulder +to shoulder, their bayonets interlocking, moved over the bridge in a +dense mass. Looking down over the rails Prince Nesvitski saw the +rapid, noisy little waves of the Enns, which rippling and eddying +round the piles of the bridge chased each other along. Looking on +the bridge he saw equally uniform living waves of soldiers, shoulder +straps, covered shakos, knapsacks, bayonets, long muskets, and, +under the shakos, faces with broad cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and +listless tired expressions, and feet that moved through the sticky mud +that covered the planks of the bridge. Sometimes through the +monotonous waves of men, like a fleck of white foam on the waves of +the Enns, an officer, in a cloak and with a type of face different +from that of the men, squeezed his way along; sometimes like a chip of +wood whirling in the river, an hussar on foot, an orderly, or a +townsman was carried through the waves of infantry; and sometimes like +a log floating down the river, an officers' or company's baggage +wagon, piled high, leather covered, and hemmed in on all sides, +moved across the bridge. + +"It's as if a dam had burst," said the Cossack hopelessly. "Are +there many more of you to come?" + +"A million all but one!" replied a waggish soldier in a torn coat, +with a wink, and passed on followed by another, an old man. + +"If he" (he meant the enemy) "begins popping at the bridge now," +said the old soldier dismally to a comrade, "you'll forget to +scratch yourself." + +That soldier passed on, and after him came another sitting on a +cart. + +"Where the devil have the leg bands been shoved to?" said an +orderly, running behind the cart and fumbling in the back of it. + +And he also passed on with the wagon. Then came some merry +soldiers who had evidently been drinking. + +"And then, old fellow, he gives him one in the teeth with the butt +end of his gun..." a soldier whose greatcoat was well tucked up said +gaily, with a wide swing of his arm. + +"Yes, the ham was just delicious..." answered another with a loud +laugh. And they, too, passed on, so that Nesvitski did not learn who +had been struck on the teeth, or what the ham had to do with it. + +"Bah! How they scurry. He just sends a ball and they think they'll +all be killed," a sergeant was saying angrily and reproachfully. + +"As it flies past me, Daddy, the ball I mean," said a young +soldier with an enormous mouth, hardly refraining from laughing, "I +felt like dying of fright. I did, 'pon my word, I got that +frightened!" said he, as if bragging of having been frightened. + +That one also passed. Then followed a cart unlike any that had +gone before. It was a German cart with a pair of horses led by a +German, and seemed loaded with a whole houseful of effects. A fine +brindled cow with a large udder was attached to the cart behind. A +woman with an unweaned baby, an old woman, and a healthy German girl +with bright red cheeks were sitting on some feather beds. Evidently +these fugitives were allowed to pass by special permission. The eyes +of all the soldiers turned toward the women, and while the vehicle was +passing at foot pace all the soldiers' remarks related to the two +young ones. Every face bore almost the same smile, expressing unseemly +thoughts about the women. + +"Just see, the German sausage is making tracks, too!" + +"Sell me the missis," said another soldier, addressing the German, +who, angry and frightened, strode energetically along with downcast +eyes. + +"See how smart she's made herself! Oh, the devils!" + +"There, Fedotov, you should be quartered on them!" + +"I have seen as much before now, mate!" + +"Where are you going?" asked an infantry officer who was eating an +apple, also half smiling as he looked at the handsome girl. + +The German closed his eyes, signifying that he did not understand. + +"Take it if you like," said the officer, giving the girl an apple. + +The girl smiled and took it. Nesvitski like the rest of the men on +the bridge did not take his eyes off the women till they had passed. +When they had gone by, the same stream of soldiers followed, with +the same kind of talk, and at last all stopped. As often happens, +the horses of a convoy wagon became restive at the end of the +bridge, and the whole crowd had to wait. + +"And why are they stopping? There's no proper order!" said the +soldiers. "Where are you shoving to? Devil take you! Can't you wait? +It'll be worse if he fires the bridge. See, here's an officer jammed +in too"--different voices were saying in the crowd, as the men +looked at one another, and all pressed toward the exit from the +bridge. + +Looking down at the waters of the Enns under the bridge, Nesvitski +suddenly heard a sound new to him, of something swiftly approaching... +something big, that splashed into the water. + +"Just see where it carries to!" a soldier near by said sternly, +looking round at the sound. + +"Encouraging us to get along quicker," said another uneasily. + +The crowd moved on again. Nesvitski realized that it was a cannon +ball. + +"Hey, Cossack, my horse!" he said. "Now, then, you there! get out of +the way! Make way!" + +With great difficulty he managed to get to his horse, and shouting +continually he moved on. The soldiers squeezed themselves to make +way for him, but again pressed on him so that they jammed his leg, and +those nearest him were not to blame for they were themselves pressed +still harder from behind. + +"Nesvitski, Nesvitski! you numskull!" came a hoarse voice from +behind him. + +Nesvitski looked round and saw, some fifteen paces away but +separated by the living mass of moving infantry, Vaska Denisov, red +and shaggy, with his cap on the back of his black head and a cloak +hanging jauntily over his shoulder. + +"Tell these devils, these fiends, to let me pass!" shouted Denisov +evidently in a fit of rage, his coal-black eyes with their bloodshot +whites glittering and rolling as he waved his sheathed saber in a +small bare hand as red as his face. + +"Ah, Vaska!" joyfully replied Nesvitski. "What's up with you?" + +"The squadwon can't pass," shouted Vaska Denisov, showing his +white teeth fiercely and spurring his black thoroughbred Arab, which +twitched its ears as the bayonets touched it, and snorted, spurting +white foam from his bit, tramping the planks of the bridge with his +hoofs, and apparently ready to jump over the railings had his rider +let him. "What is this? They're like sheep! Just like sheep! Out of +the way!... Let us pass!... Stop there, you devil with the cart! +I'll hack you with my saber!" he shouted, actually drawing his saber +from its scabbard and flourishing it. + +The soldiers crowded against one another with terrified faces, and +Denisov joined Nesvitski. + +"How's it you're not drunk today?" said Nesvitski when the other had +ridden up to him. + +"They don't even give one time to dwink!" answered Vaska Denisov. +"They keep dwagging the wegiment to and fwo all day. If they mean to +fight, let's fight. But the devil knows what this is." + +"What a dandy you are today!" said Nesvitski, looking at Denisov's +new cloak and saddlecloth. + +Denisov smiled, took out of his sabretache a handkerchief that +diffused a smell of perfume, and put it to Nesvitski's nose. + +"Of course. I'm going into action! I've shaved, bwushed my teeth, +and scented myself." + +The imposing figure of Nesvitski followed by his Cossack, and the +determination of Denisov who flourished his sword and shouted +frantically, had such an effect that they managed to squeeze through +to the farther side of the bridge and stopped the infantry. Beside the +bridge Nesvitski found the colonel to whom he had to deliver the +order, and having done this he rode back. + +Having cleared the way Denisov stopped at the end of the bridge. +Carelessly holding in his stallion that was neighing and pawing the +ground, eager to rejoin its fellows, he watched his squadron draw +nearer. Then the clang of hoofs, as of several horses galloping, +resounded on the planks of the bridge, and the squadron, officers in +front and men four abreast, spread across the bridge and began to +emerge on his side of it. + +The infantry who had been stopped crowded near the bridge in the +trampled mud and gazed with that particular feeling of ill-will, +estrangement, and ridicule with which troops of different arms usually +encounter one another at the clean, smart hussars who moved past +them in regular order. + +"Smart lads! Only fit for a fair!" said one. + +"What good are they? They're led about just for show!" remarked +another. + +"Don't kick up the dust, you infantry!" jested an hussar whose +prancing horse had splashed mud over some foot soldiers. + +"I'd like to put you on a two days' march with a knapsack! Your fine +cords would soon get a bit rubbed," said an infantryman, wiping the +mud off his face with his sleeve. "Perched up there, you're more +like a bird than a man." + +"There now, Zikin, they ought to put you on a horse. You'd look +fine," said a corporal, chaffing a thin little soldier who bent +under the weight of his knapsack. + +"Take a stick between your legs, that'll suit you for a horse!" +the hussar shouted back. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The last of the infantry hurriedly crossed the bridge, squeezing +together as they approached it as if passing through a funnel. At last +the baggage wagons had all crossed, the crush was less, and the last +battalion came onto the bridge. Only Denisov's squadron of hussars +remained on the farther side of the bridge facing the enemy, who could +be seen from the hill on the opposite bank but was not yet visible +from the bridge, for the horizon as seen from the valley through which +the river flowed was formed by the rising ground only half a mile +away. At the foot of the hill lay wasteland over which a few groups of +our Cossack scouts were moving. Suddenly on the road at the top of the +high ground, artillery and troops in blue uniform were seen. These +were the French. A group of Cossack scouts retired down the hill at +a trot. All the officers and men of Denisov's squadron, though they +tried to talk of other things and to look in other directions, thought +only of what was there on the hilltop, and kept constantly looking +at the patches appearing on the skyline, which they knew to be the +enemy's troops. The weather had cleared again since noon and the sun +was descending brightly upon the Danube and the dark hills around +it. It was calm, and at intervals the bugle calls and the shouts of +the enemy could be heard from the hill. There was no one now between +the squadron and the enemy except a few scattered skirmishers. An +empty space of some seven hundred yards was all that separated them. +The enemy ceased firing, and that stern, threatening, inaccessible, +and intangible line which separates two hostile armies was all the +more clearly felt. + +"One step beyond that boundary line which resembles the line +dividing the living from the dead lies uncertainty, suffering, and +death. And what is there? Who is there?--there beyond that field, that +tree, that roof lit up by the sun? No one knows, but one wants to +know. You fear and yet long to cross that line, and know that sooner +or later it must be crossed and you will have to find out what is +there, just as you will inevitably have to learn what lies the other +side of death. But you are strong, healthy, cheerful, and excited, and +are surrounded by other such excitedly animated and healthy men." So +thinks, or at any rate feels, anyone who comes in sight of the +enemy, and that feeling gives a particular glamour and glad keenness +of impression to everything that takes place at such moments. + +On the high ground where the enemy was, the smoke of a cannon +rose, and a ball flew whistling over the heads of the hussar squadron. +The officers who had been standing together rode off to their +places. The hussars began carefully aligning their horses. Silence +fell on the whole squadron. All were looking at the enemy in front and +at the squadron commander, awaiting the word of command. A second +and a third cannon ball flew past. Evidently they were firing at the +hussars, but the balls with rapid rhythmic whistle flew over the heads +of the horsemen and fell somewhere beyond them. The hussars did not +look round, but at the sound of each shot, as at the word of +command, the whole squadron with its rows of faces so alike yet so +different, holding its breath while the ball flew past, rose in the +stirrups and sank back again. The soldiers without turning their heads +glanced at one another, curious to see their comrades' impression. +Every face, from Denisov's to that of the bugler, showed one common +expression of conflict, irritation, and excitement, around chin and +mouth. The quartermaster frowned, looking at the soldiers as if +threatening to punish them. Cadet Mironov ducked every time a ball +flew past. Rostov on the left flank, mounted on his Rook--a handsome +horse despite its game leg--had the happy air of a schoolboy called up +before a large audience for an examination in which he feels sure he +will distinguish himself. He was glancing at everyone with a clear, +bright expression, as if asking them to notice how calmly he sat under +fire. But despite himself, on his face too that same indication of +something new and stern showed round the mouth. + +"Who's that curtseying there? Cadet Miwonov! That's not wight! +Look at me," cried Denisov who, unable to keep still on one spot, kept +turning his horse in front of the squadron. + +The black, hairy, snub-nosed face of Vaska Denisov, and his whole +short sturdy figure with the sinewy hairy hand and stumpy fingers in +which he held the hilt of his naked saber, looked just as it usually +did, especially toward evening when he had emptied his second +bottle; he was only redder than usual. With his shaggy head thrown +back like birds when they drink, pressing his spurs mercilessly into +the sides of his good horse, Bedouin, and sitting as though falling +backwards in the saddle, he galloped to the other flank of the +squadron and shouted in a hoarse voice to the men to look to their +pistols. He rode up to Kirsten. The staff captain on his broad-backed, +steady mare came at a walk to meet him. His face with its long +mustache was serious as always, only his eyes were brighter than +usual. + +"Well, what about it?" said he to Denisov. "It won't come to a +fight. You'll see--we shall retire." + +"The devil only knows what they're about!" muttered Denisov. "Ah, +Wostov," he cried noticing the cadet's bright face, "you've got it +at last." + +And he smiled approvingly, evidently pleased with the cadet. +Rostov felt perfectly happy. Just then the commander appeared on the +bridge. Denisov galloped up to him. + +"Your excellency! Let us attack them! I'll dwive them off." + +"Attack indeed!" said the colonel in a bored voice, puckering up his +face as if driving off a troublesome fly. "And why are you stopping +here? Don't you see the skirmishers are retreating? Lead the +squadron back." + +The squadron crossed the bridge and drew out of range of fire +without having lost a single man. The second squadron that had been in +the front line followed them across and the last Cossacks quitted +the farther side of the river. + +The two Pavlograd squadrons, having crossed the bridge, retired up +the hill one after the other. Their colonel, Karl Bogdanich +Schubert, came up to Denisov's squadron and rode at a footpace not far +from Rostov, without taking any notice of him although they were now +meeting for the first time since their encounter concerning +Telyanin. Rostov, feeling that he was at the front and in the power of +a man toward whom he now admitted that he had been to blame, did not +lift his eyes from the colonel's athletic back, his nape covered +with light hair, and his red neck. It seemed to Rostov that +Bogdanich was only pretending not to notice him, and that his whole +aim now was to test the cadet's courage, so he drew himself up and +looked around him merrily; then it seemed to him that Bogdanich rode +so near in order to show him his courage. Next he thought that his +enemy would send the squadron on a desperate attack just to punish +him--Rostov. Then he imagined how, after the attack, Bogdanich would +come up to him as he lay wounded and would magnanimously extend the +hand of reconciliation. + +The high-shouldered figure of Zherkov, familiar to the Pavlograds as +he had but recently left their regiment, rode up to the colonel. After +his dismissal from headquarters Zherkov had not remained in the +regiment, saying he was not such a fool as to slave at the front +when he could get more rewards by doing nothing on the staff, and +had succeeded in attaching himself as an orderly officer to Prince +Bagration. He now came to his former chief with an order from the +commander of the rear guard. + +"Colonel," he said, addressing Rostov's enemy with an air of +gloomy gravity and glancing round at his comrades, "there is an +order to stop and fire the bridge." + +"An order to who?" asked the colonel morosely. + +"I don't myself know 'to who,'" replied the cornet in a serious +tone, "but the prince told me to 'go and tell the colonel that the +hussars must return quickly and fire the bridge.'" + +Zherkov was followed by an officer of the suite who rode up to the +colonel of hussars with the same order. After him the stout +Nesvitski came galloping up on a Cossack horse that could scarcely +carry his weight. + +"How's this, Colonel?" he shouted as he approached. "I told you to +fire the bridge, and now someone has gone and blundered; they are +all beside themselves over there and one can't make anything out." + +The colonel deliberately stopped the regiment and turned to +Nesvitski. + +"You spoke to me of inflammable material," said he, "but you said +nothing about firing it." + +"But, my dear sir," said Nesvitski as he drew up, taking off his cap +and smoothing his hair wet with perspiration with his plump hand, +"wasn't I telling you to fire the bridge, when inflammable material +had been put in position?" + +"I am not your 'dear sir,' Mr. Staff Officer, and you did not tell +me to burn the bridge! I know the service, and it is my habit orders +strictly to obey. You said the bridge would be burned, but who would +it burn, I could not know by the holy spirit!" + +"Ah, that's always the way!" said Nesvitski with a wave of the hand. +"How did you get here?" said he, turning to Zherkov. + +"On the same business. But you are damp! Let me wring you out!" + +"You were saying, Mr. Staff Officer..." continued the colonel in +an offended tone. + +"Colonel," interrupted the officer of the suite, "You must be +quick or the enemy will bring up his guns to use grapeshot." + +The colonel looked silently at the officer of the suite, at the +stout staff officer, and at Zherkov, and he frowned. + +"I will the bridge fire," he said in a solemn tone as if to announce +that in spite of all the unpleasantness he had to endure he would +still do the right thing. + +Striking his horse with his long muscular legs as if it were to +blame for everything, the colonel moved forward and ordered the second +squadron, that in which Rostov was serving under Denisov, to return to +the bridge. + +"There, it's just as I thought," said Rostov to himself. "He +wishes to test me!" His heart contracted and the blood rushed to his +face. "Let him see whether I am a coward!" he thought. + +Again on all the bright faces of the squadron the serious expression +appeared that they had worn when under fire. Rostov watched his enemy, +the colonel, closely--to find in his face confirmation of his own +conjecture, but the colonel did not once glance at Rostov, and +looked as he always did when at the front, solemn and stern. Then came +the word of command. + +"Look sharp! Look sharp!" several voices repeated around him. + +Their sabers catching in the bridles and their spurs jingling, the +hussars hastily dismounted, not knowing what they were to do. The +men were crossing themselves. Rostov no longer looked at the +colonel, he had no time. He was afraid of falling behind the +hussars, so much afraid that his heart stood still. His hand +trembled as he gave his horse into an orderly's charge, and he felt +the blood rush to his heart with a thud. Denisov rode past him, +leaning back and shouting something. Rostov saw nothing but the +hussars running all around him, their spurs catching and their +sabers clattering. + +"Stretchers!" shouted someone behind him. + +Rostov did not think what this call for stretchers meant; he ran on, +trying only to be ahead of the others; but just at the bridge, not +looking at the ground, he came on some sticky, trodden mud, +stumbled, and fell on his hands. The others outstripped him. + +"At boss zides, Captain," he heard the voice of the colonel, who, +having ridden ahead, had pulled up his horse near the bridge, with a +triumphant, cheerful face. + +Rostov wiping his muddy hands on his breeches looked at his enemy +and was about to run on, thinking that the farther he went to the +front the better. But Bogdanich, without looking at or recognizing +Rostov, shouted to him: + +"Who's that running on the middle of the bridge? To the right! +Come back, Cadet!" he cried angrily; and turning to Denisov, who, +showing off his courage, had ridden on to the planks of the bridge: + +"Why run risks, Captain? You should dismount," he said. + +"Oh, every bullet has its billet," answered Vaska Denisov, turning +in his saddle. + + +Meanwhile Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer of the suite were +standing together out of range of the shots, watching, now the small +group of men with yellow shakos, dark-green jackets braided with cord, +and blue riding breeches, who were swarming near the bridge, and then +at what was approaching in the distance from the opposite side--the +blue uniforms and groups with horses, easily recognizable as +artillery. + +"Will they burn the bridge or not? Who'll get there first? Will they +get there and fire the bridge or will the French get within +grapeshot range and wipe them out?" These were the questions each +man of the troops on the high ground above the bridge involuntarily +asked himself with a sinking heart--watching the bridge and the +hussars in the bright evening light and the blue tunics advancing from +the other side with their bayonets and guns. + +"Ugh. The hussars will get it hot!" said Nesvitski; "they are within +grapeshot range now." + +"He shouldn't have taken so many men," said the officer of the +suite. + +"True enough," answered Nesvitski; "two smart fellows could have +done the job just as well." + +"Ah, your excellency," put in Zherkov, his eyes fixed on the +hussars, but still with that naive air that made it impossible to know +whether he was speaking in jest or in earnest. "Ah, your excellency! +How you look at things! Send two men? And who then would give us the +Vladimir medal and ribbon? But now, even if they do get peppered, +the squadron may be recommended for honors and he may get a ribbon. +Our Bogdanich knows how things are done." + +"There now!" said the officer of the suite, "that's grapeshot." + +He pointed to the French guns, the limbers of which were being +detached and hurriedly removed. + +On the French side, amid the groups with cannon, a cloud of smoke +appeared, then a second and a third almost simultaneously, and at +the moment when the first report was heard a fourth was seen. Then two +reports one after another, and a third. + +"Oh! Oh!" groaned Nesvitski as if in fierce pain, seizing the +officer of the suite by the arm. "Look! A man has fallen! Fallen, +fallen!" + +"Two, I think." + +"If I were Tsar I would never go to war," said Nesvitski, turning +away. + +The French guns were hastily reloaded. The infantry in their blue +uniforms advanced toward the bridge at a run. Smoke appeared again but +at irregular intervals, and grapeshot cracked and rattled onto the +bridge. But this time Nesvitski could not see what was happening +there, as a dense cloud of smoke arose from it. The hussars had +succeeded in setting it on fire and the French batteries were now +firing at them, no longer to hinder them but because the guns were +trained and there was someone to fire at. + +The French had time to fire three rounds of grapeshot before the +hussars got back to their horses. Two were misdirected and the shot +went too high, but the last round fell in the midst of a group of +hussars and knocked three of them over. + +Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanich, had paused on +the bridge not knowing what to do. There was no one to hew down (as he +had always imagined battles to himself), nor could he help to fire the +bridge because he had not brought any burning straw with him like +the other soldiers. He stood looking about him, when suddenly he heard +a rattle on the bridge as if nuts were being spilt, and the hussar +nearest to him fell against the rails with a groan. Rostov ran up to +him with the others. Again someone shouted, "Stretchers!" Four men +seized the hussar and began lifting him. + +"Oooh! For Christ's sake let me alone!" cried the wounded man, but +still he was lifted and laid on the stretcher. + +Nicholas Rostov turned away and, as if searching for something, +gazed into the distance, at the waters of the Danube, at the sky, +and at the sun. How beautiful the sky looked; how blue, how calm, +and how deep! How bright and glorious was the setting sun! With what +soft glitter the waters of the distant Danube shone. And fairer +still were the faraway blue mountains beyond the river, the nunnery, +the mysterious gorges, and the pine forests veiled in the mist of +their summits... There was peace and happiness... "I should wish +for nothing else, nothing, if only I were there," thought Rostov. +"In myself alone and in that sunshine there is so much happiness; +but here... groans, suffering, fear, and this uncertainty and hurry... +There--they are shouting again, and again are all running back +somewhere, and I shall run with them, and it, death, is here above +me and around... Another instant and I shall never again see the +sun, this water, that gorge!..." + +At that instant the sun began to hide behind the clouds, and other +stretchers came into view before Rostov. And the fear of death and +of the stretchers, and love of the sun and of life, all merged into +one feeling of sickening agitation. + +"O Lord God! Thou who art in that heaven, save, forgive, and protect +me!" Rostov whispered. + +The hussars ran back to the men who held their horses; their +voices sounded louder and calmer, the stretchers disappeared from +sight. + +"Well, fwiend? So you've smelt powdah!" shouted Vaska Denisov just +above his ear. + +"It's all over; but I am a coward--yes, a coward!" thought Rostov, +and sighing deeply he took Rook, his horse, which stood resting one +foot, from the orderly and began to mount. + +"Was that grapeshot?" he asked Denisov. + +"Yes and no mistake!" cried Denisov. "You worked like wegular bwicks +and it's nasty work! An attack's pleasant work! Hacking away at the +dogs! But this sort of thing is the very devil, with them shooting +at you like a target." + +And Denisov rode up to a group that had stopped near Rostov, +composed of the colonel, Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer from +the suite. + +"Well, it seems that no one has noticed," thought Rostov. And this +was true. No one had taken any notice, for everyone knew the sensation +which the cadet under fire for the first time had experienced. + +"Here's something for you to report," said Zherkov. "See if I +don't get promoted to a sublieutenancy." + +"Inform the prince that I the bridge fired!" said the colonel +triumphantly and gaily. + +"And if he asks about the losses?" + +"A trifle," said the colonel in his bass voice: "two hussars +wounded, and one knocked out," he added, unable to restrain a happy +smile, and pronouncing the phrase "knocked out" with ringing +distinctness. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Pursued by the French army of a hundred thousand men under the +command of Bonaparte, encountering a population that was unfriendly to +it, losing confidence in its allies, suffering from shortness of +supplies, and compelled to act under conditions of war unlike anything +that had been foreseen, the Russian army of thirty-five thousand men +commanded by Kutuzov was hurriedly retreating along the Danube, +stopping where overtaken by the enemy and fighting rearguard actions +only as far as necessary to enable it to retreat without losing its +heavy equipment. There had been actions at Lambach, Amstetten, and +Melk; but despite the courage and endurance--acknowledged even by +the enemy--with which the Russians fought, the only consequence of +these actions was a yet more rapid retreat. Austrian troops that had +escaped capture at Ulm and had joined Kutuzov at Braunau now separated +from the Russian army, and Kutuzov was left with only his own weak and +exhausted forces. The defense of Vienna was no longer to be thought +of. Instead of an offensive, the plan of which, carefully prepared +in accord with the modern science of strategics, had been handed to +Kutuzov when he was in Vienna by the Austrian Hofkriegsrath, the +sole and almost unattainable aim remaining for him was to effect a +junction with the forces that were advancing from Russia, without +losing his army as Mack had done at Ulm. + +On the twenty-eighth of October Kutuzov with his army crossed to the +left bank of the Danube and took up a position for the first time with +the river between himself and the main body of the French. On the +thirtieth he attacked Mortier's division, which was on the left +bank, and broke it up. In this action for the first time trophies were +taken: banners, cannon, and two enemy generals. For the first time, +after a fortnight's retreat, the Russian troops had halted and after a +fight had not only held the field but had repulsed the French. +Though the troops were ill-clad, exhausted, and had lost a third of +their number in killed, wounded, sick, and stragglers; though a number +of sick and wounded had been abandoned on the other side of the Danube +with a letter in which Kutuzov entrusted them to the humanity of the +enemy; and though the big hospitals and the houses in Krems +converted into military hospitals could no longer accommodate all +the sick and wounded, yet the stand made at Krems and the victory over +Mortier raised the spirits of the army considerably. Throughout the +whole army and at headquarters most joyful though erroneous rumors +were rife of the imaginary approach of columns from Russia, of some +victory gained by the Austrians, and of the retreat of the +frightened Bonaparte. + +Prince Andrew during the battle had been in attendance on the +Austrian General Schmidt, who was killed in the action. His horse +had been wounded under him and his own arm slightly grazed by a +bullet. As a mark of the commander in chief's special favor he was +sent with the news of this victory to the Austrian court, now no +longer at Vienna (which was threatened by the French) but at Brunn. +Despite his apparently delicate build Prince Andrew could endure +physical fatigue far better than many very muscular men, and on the +night of the battle, having arrived at Krems excited but not weary, +with dispatches from Dokhturov to Kutuzov, he was sent immediately +with a special dispatch to Brunn. To be so sent meant not only a +reward but an important step toward promotion. + +The night was dark but starry, the road showed black in the snow +that had fallen the previous day--the day of the battle. Reviewing his +impressions of the recent battle, picturing pleasantly to himself +the impression his news of a victory would create, or recalling the +send-off given him by the commander in chief and his fellow +officers, Prince Andrew was galloping along in a post chaise +enjoying the feelings of a man who has at length begun to attain a +long-desired happiness. As soon as he closed his eyes his ears +seemed filled with the rattle of the wheels and the sensation of +victory. Then he began to imagine that the Russians were running +away and that he himself was killed, but he quickly roused himself +with a feeling of joy, as if learning afresh that this was not so +but that on the contrary the French had run away. He again recalled +all the details of the victory and his own calm courage during the +battle, and feeling reassured he dozed off.... The dark starry night +was followed by a bright cheerful morning. The snow was thawing in the +sunshine, the horses galloped quickly, and on both sides of the road +were forests of different kinds, fields, and villages. + +At one of the post stations he overtook a convoy of Russian wounded. +The Russian officer in charge of the transport lolled back in the +front cart, shouting and scolding a soldier with coarse abuse. In each +of the long German carts six or more pale, dirty, bandaged men were +being jolted over the stony road. Some of them were talking (he +heard Russian words), others were eating bread; the more severely +wounded looked silently, with the languid interest of sick children, +at the envoy hurrying past them. + +Prince Andrew told his driver to stop, and asked a soldier in what +action they had been wounded. "Day before yesterday, on the Danube," +answered the soldier. Prince Andrew took out his purse and gave the +soldier three gold pieces. + +"That's for them all," he said to the officer who came up. + +"Get well soon, lads!" he continued, turning to the soldiers. +"There's plenty to do still." + +"What news, sir?" asked the officer, evidently anxious to start a +conversation. + +"Good news!... Go on!" he shouted to the driver, and they galloped +on. + +It was already quite dark when Prince Andrew rattled over the +paved streets of Brunn and found himself surrounded by high buildings, +the lights of shops, houses, and street lamps, fine carriages, and all +that atmosphere of a large and active town which is always so +attractive to a soldier after camp life. Despite his rapid journey and +sleepless night, Prince Andrew when he drove up to the palace felt +even more vigorous and alert than he had done the day before. Only his +eyes gleamed feverishly and his thoughts followed one another with +extraordinary clearness and rapidity. He again vividly recalled the +details of the battle, no longer dim, but definite and in the +concise form in which he imagined himself stating them to +the Emperor Francis. He vividly imagined the casual questions that +might be put to him and the answers he would give. He expected to be +at once presented to the Emperor. At the chief entrance to the palace, +however, an official came running out to meet him, and learning that +he was a special messenger led him to another entrance. + +"To the right from the corridor, Euer Hochgeboren! There you will +find the adjutant on duty," said the official. "He will conduct you to +the Minister of War." + +The adjutant on duty, meeting Prince Andrew, asked him to wait, +and went in to the Minister of War. Five minutes later he returned and +bowing with particular courtesy ushered Prince Andrew before him along +a corridor to the cabinet where the Minister of War was at work. The +adjutant by his elaborate courtesy appeared to wish to ward off any +attempt at familiarity on the part of the Russian messenger. + +Prince Andrew's joyous feeling was considerably weakened as he +approached the door of the minister's room. He felt offended, and +without his noticing it the feeling of offense immediately turned into +one of disdain which was quite uncalled for. His fertile mind +instantly suggested to him a point of view which gave him a right to +despise the adjutant and the minister. "Away from the smell of powder, +they probably think it easy to gain victories!" he thought. His eyes +narrowed disdainfully, he entered the room of the Minister of War with +peculiarly deliberate steps. This feeling of disdain was heightened +when he saw the minister seated at a large table reading some papers +and making pencil notes on them, and for the first two or three +minutes taking no notice of his arrival. A wax candle stood at each +side of the minister's bent bald head with its gray temples. He went +on reading to the end, without raising his eyes at the opening of +the door and the sound of footsteps. + +"Take this and deliver it," said he to his adjutant, handing him the +papers and still taking no notice of the special messenger. + +Prince Andrew felt that either the actions of Kutuzov's army +interested the Minister of War less than any of the other matters he +was concerned with, or he wanted to give the Russian special messenger +that impression. "But that is a matter of perfect indifference to me," +he thought. The minister drew the remaining papers together, +arranged them evenly, and then raised his head. He had an intellectual +and distinctive head, but the instant he turned to Prince Andrew the +firm, intelligent expression on his face changed in a way evidently +deliberate and habitual to him. His face took on the stupid artificial +smile (which does not even attempt to hide its artificiality) of a man +who is continually receiving many petitioners one after another. + +"From General Field Marshal Kutuzov?" he asked. "I hope it is good +news? There has been an encounter with Mortier? A victory? It was high +time!" + +He took the dispatch which was addressed to him and began to read it +with a mournful expression. + +"Oh, my God! My God! Schmidt!" he exclaimed in German. "What a +calamity! What a calamity!" + +Having glanced through the dispatch he laid it on the table and +looked at Prince Andrew, evidently considering something. + +"Ah what a calamity! You say the affair was decisive? But Mortier is +not captured." Again he pondered. "I am very glad you have brought +good news, though Schmidt's death is a heavy price to pay for the +victory. His Majesty will no doubt wish to see you, but not today. I +thank you! You must have a rest. Be at the levee tomorrow after the +parade. However, I will let you know." + +The stupid smile, which had left his face while he was speaking, +reappeared. + +"Au revoir! Thank you very much. His Majesty will probably desire to +see you," he added, bowing his head. + +When Prince Andrew left the palace he felt that all the interest and +happiness the victory had afforded him had been now left in the +indifferent hands of the Minister of War and the polite adjutant. +The whole tenor of his thoughts instantaneously changed; the battle +seemed the memory of a remote event long past. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Prince Andrew stayed at Brunn with Bilibin, a Russian acquaintance +of his in the diplomatic service. + +"Ah, my dear prince! I could not have a more welcome visitor," +said Bilibin as he came out to meet Prince Andrew. "Franz, put the +prince's things in my bedroom," said he to the servant who was +ushering Bolkonski in. "So you're a messenger of victory, eh? +Splendid! And I am sitting here ill, as you see." + +After washing and dressing, Prince Andrew came into the diplomat's +luxurious study and sat down to the dinner prepared for him. Bilibin +settled down comfortably beside the fire. + +After his journey and the campaign during which he had been deprived +of all the comforts of cleanliness and all the refinements of life, +Prince Andrew felt a pleasant sense of repose among luxurious +surroundings such as he had been accustomed to from childhood. Besides +it was pleasant, after his reception by the Austrians, to speak if not +in Russian (for they were speaking French) at least with a Russian who +would, he supposed, share the general Russian antipathy to the +Austrians which was then particularly strong. + +Bilibin was a man of thirty-five, a bachelor, and of the same circle +as Prince Andrew. They had known each other previously in +Petersburg, but had become more intimate when Prince Andrew was in +Vienna with Kutuzov. Just as Prince Andrew was a young man who gave +promise of rising high in the military profession, so to an even +greater extent Bilibin gave promise of rising in his diplomatic +career. He still a young man but no longer a young diplomat, as he had +entered the service at the age of sixteen, had been in Paris and +Copenhagen, and now held a rather important post in Vienna. Both the +foreign minister and our ambassador in Vienna knew him and valued him. +He was not one of those many diplomats who are esteemed because they +have certain negative qualities, avoid doing certain things, and speak +French. He was one of those, who, liking work, knew how to do it, +and despite his indolence would sometimes spend a whole night at his +writing table. He worked well whatever the import of his work. It +was not the question "What for?" but the question "How?" that +interested him. What the diplomatic matter might be he did not care, +but it gave him great pleasure to prepare a circular, memorandum, or +report, skillfully, pointedly, and elegantly. Bilibin's services +were valued not only for what he wrote, but also for his skill in +dealing and conversing with those in the highest spheres. + +Bilibin liked conversation as he liked work, only when it could be +made elegantly witty. In society he always awaited an opportunity to +say something striking and took part in a conversation only when +that was possible. His conversation was always sprinkled with +wittily original, finished phrases of general interest. These +sayings were prepared in the inner laboratory of his mind in a +portable form as if intentionally, so that insignificant society +people might carry them from drawing room to drawing room. And, in +fact, Bilibin's witticisms were hawked about in the Viennese drawing +rooms and often had an influence on matters considered important. + +His thin, worn, sallow face was covered with deep wrinkles, which +always looked as clean and well washed as the tips of one's fingers +after a Russian bath. The movement of these wrinkles formed the +principal play of expression on his face. Now his forehead would +pucker into deep folds and his eyebrows were lifted, then his eyebrows +would descend and deep wrinkles would crease his cheeks. His small, +deep-set eyes always twinkled and looked out straight. + +"Well, now tell me about your exploits," said he. + +Bolkonski, very modestly without once mentioning himself, +described the engagement and his reception by the Minister of War. + +"They received me and my news as one receives a dog in a game of +skittles," said he in conclusion. + +Bilibin smiled and the wrinkles on his face disappeared. + +"Cependant, mon cher," he remarked, examining his nails from a +distance and puckering the skin above his left eye, "malgre la haute +estime que je professe pour the Orthodox Russian army, j'avoue que +votre victoire n'est pas des plus victorieuses."* + + +*"But my dear fellow, with all my respect for the Orthodox Russian +army, I must say that your victory was not particularly victorious." + + +He went on talking in this way in French, uttering only those +words in Russian on which he wished to put a contemptuous emphasis. + +"Come now! You with all your forces fall on the unfortunate +Mortier and his one division, and even then Mortier slips through your +fingers! Where's the victory?" + +"But seriously," said Prince Andrew, "we can at any rate say without +boasting that it was a little better than at Ulm..." + +"Why didn't you capture one, just one, marshal for us?" + +"Because not everything happens as one expects or with the +smoothness of a parade. We had expected, as I told you, to get at +their rear by seven in the morning but had not reached it by five in +the afternoon." + +"And why didn't you do it at seven in the morning? You ought to have +been there at seven in the morning," returned Bilibin with a smile. +"You ought to have been there at seven in the morning." + +"Why did you not succeed in impressing on Bonaparte by diplomatic +methods that he had better leave Genoa alone?" retorted Prince +Andrew in the same tone. + +"I know," interrupted Bilibin, "you're thinking it's very easy to +take marshals, sitting on a sofa by the fire! That is true, but +still why didn't you capture him? So don't be surprised if not only +the Minister of War but also his Most August Majesty the Emperor and +King Francis is not much delighted by your victory. Even I, a poor +secretary of the Russian Embassy, do not feel any need in token of +my joy to give my Franz a thaler, or let him go with his Liebchen to +the Prater... True, we have no Prater here..." + +He looked straight at Prince Andrew and suddenly unwrinkled his +forehead. + +"It is now my turn to ask you 'why?' mon cher," said Bolkonski. "I +confess I do not understand: perhaps there are diplomatic subtleties +here beyond my feeble intelligence, but I can't make it out. Mack +loses a whole army, the Archduke Ferdinand and the Archduke Karl +give no signs of life and make blunder after blunder. Kutuzov alone at +last gains a real victory, destroying the spell of the invincibility +of the French, and the Minister of War does not even care to hear +the details." + +"That's just it, my dear fellow. You see it's hurrah for the Tsar, +for Russia, for the Orthodox Greek faith! All that is beautiful, but +what do we, I mean the Austrian court, care for your victories? +Bring us nice news of a victory by the Archduke Karl or Ferdinand (one +archduke's as good as another, as you know) and even if it is only +over a fire brigade of Bonaparte's, that will be another story and +we'll fire off some cannon! But this sort of thing seems done on +purpose to vex us. The Archduke Karl does nothing, the Archduke +Ferdinand disgraces himself. You abandon Vienna, give up its +defense--as much as to say: 'Heaven is with us, but heaven help you +and your capital!' The one general whom we all loved, Schmidt, you +expose to a bullet, and then you congratulate us on the victory! Admit +that more irritating news than yours could not have been conceived. +It's as if it had been done on purpose, on purpose. Besides, suppose +you did gain a brilliant victory, if even the Archduke Karl gained a +victory, what effect would that have on the general course of +events? It's too late now when Vienna is occupied by the French army!" + +"What? Occupied? Vienna occupied?" + +"Not only occupied, but Bonaparte is at Schonbrunn, and the count, +our dear Count Vrbna, goes to him for orders." + +After the fatigues and impressions of the journey, his reception, +and especially after having dined, Bolkonski felt that he could not +take in the full significance of the words he heard. + +"Count Lichtenfels was here this morning," Bilibin continued, "and +showed me a letter in which the parade of the French in Vienna was +fully described: Prince Murat et tout le tremblement... You see that +your victory is not a matter for great rejoicing and that you can't be +received as a savior." + +"Really I don't care about that, I don't care at all," said Prince +Andrew, beginning to understand that his news of the battle before +Krems was really of small importance in view of such events as the +fall of Austria's capital. "How is it Vienna was taken? What of the +bridge and its celebrated bridgehead and Prince Auersperg? We heard +reports that Prince Auersperg was defending Vienna?" he said. + +"Prince Auersperg is on this, on our side of the river, and is +defending us--doing it very badly, I think, but still he is +defending us. But Vienna is on the other side. No, the bridge has +not yet been taken and I hope it will not be, for it is mined and +orders have been given to blow it up. Otherwise we should long ago +have been in the mountains of Bohemia, and you and your army would +have spent a bad quarter of an hour between two fires." + +"But still this does not mean that the campaign is over," said +Prince Andrew. + +"Well, I think it is. The bigwigs here think so too, but they +daren't say so. It will be as I said at the beginning of the campaign, +it won't be your skirmishing at Durrenstein, or gunpowder at all, that +will decide the matter, but those who devised it," said Bilibin +quoting one of his own mots, releasing the wrinkles on his forehead, +and pausing. "The only question is what will come of the meeting +between the Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia in Berlin? If +Prussia joins the Allies, Austria's hand will be forced and there will +be war. If not it is merely a question of settling where the +preliminaries of the new Campo Formio are to be drawn up." + +"What an extraordinary genius!" Prince Andrew suddenly exclaimed, +clenching his small hand and striking the table with it, "and what +luck the man has!" + +"Buonaparte?" said Bilibin inquiringly, puckering up his forehead to +indicate that he was about to say something witty. "Buonaparte?" he +repeated, accentuating the u: "I think, however, now that he lays down +laws for Austria at Schonbrunn, il faut lui faire grace de l'u!* I +shall certainly adopt an innovation and call him simply Bonaparte!" + + +*"We must let him off the u!" + + +"But joking apart," said Prince Andrew, "do you really think the +campaign is over?" + +"This is what I think. Austria has been made a fool of, and she is +not used to it. She will retaliate. And she has been fooled in the +first place because her provinces have been pillaged--they say the +Holy Russian army loots terribly--her army is destroyed, her capital +taken, and all this for the beaux yeux* of His Sardinian Majesty. +And therefore--this is between ourselves--I instinctively feel that we +are being deceived, my instinct tells me of negotiations with France +and projects for peace, a secret peace concluded separately." + + +*Fine eyes. + + +"Impossible!" cried Prince Andrew. "That would be too base." + +"If we live we shall see," replied Bilibin, his face again +becoming smooth as a sign that the conversation was at an end. + +When Prince Andrew reached the room prepared for him and lay down in +a clean shirt on the feather bed with its warmed and fragrant pillows, +he felt that the battle of which he had brought tidings was far, far +away from him. The alliance with Prussia, Austria's treachery, +Bonaparte's new triumph, tomorrow's levee and parade, and the audience +with the Emperor Francis occupied his thoughts. + +He closed his eyes, and immediately a sound of cannonading, of +musketry and the rattling of carriage wheels seemed to fill his +ears, and now again drawn out in a thin line the musketeers were +descending the hill, the French were firing, and he felt his heart +palpitating as he rode forward beside Schmidt with the bullets merrily +whistling all around, and he experienced tenfold the joy of living, as +he had not done since childhood. + +He woke up... + +"Yes, that all happened!" he said, and, smiling happily to himself +like a child, he fell into a deep, youthful slumber. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Next day he woke late. Recalling his recent impressions, the first +thought that came into his mind was that today he had to be +presented to the Emperor Francis; he remembered the Minister of War, +the polite Austrian adjutant, Bilibin, and last night's +conversation. Having dressed for his attendance at court in full +parade uniform, which he had not worn for a long time, he went into +Bilibin's study fresh, animated, and handsome, with his hand bandaged. +In the study were four gentlemen of the diplomatic corps. With +Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, who was a secretary to the embassy, +Bolkonski was already acquainted. Bilibin introduced him to the +others. + +The gentlemen assembled at Bilibin's were young, wealthy, gay +society men, who here, as in Vienna, formed a special set which +Bilibin, their leader, called les notres.* This set, consisting almost +exclusively of diplomats, evidently had its own interests which had +nothing to do with war or politics but related to high society, to +certain women, and to the official side of the service. These +gentlemen received Prince Andrew as one of themselves, an honor they +did not extend to many. From politeness and to start conversation, +they asked him a few questions about the army and the battle, and then +the talk went off into merry jests and gossip. + + +*Ours. + + +"But the best of it was," said one, telling of the misfortune of a +fellow diplomat, "that the Chancellor told him flatly that his +appointment to London was a promotion and that he was so to regard it. +Can you fancy the figure he cut?..." + +"But the worst of it, gentlemen--I am giving Kuragin away to you--is +that that man suffers, and this Don Juan, wicked fellow, is taking +advantage of it!" + +Prince Hippolyte was lolling in a lounge chair with his legs over +its arm. He began to laugh. + +"Tell me about that!" he said. + +"Oh, you Don Juan! You serpent!" cried several voices. + +"You, Bolkonski, don't know," said Bilibin turning to Prince Andrew, +"that all the atrocities of the French army (I nearly said of the +Russian army) are nothing compared to what this man has been doing +among the women!" + +"La femme est la compagne de l'homme,"* announced Prince +Hippolyte, and began looking through a lorgnette at his elevated legs. + + +*"Woman is man's companion." + + +Bilibin and the rest of "ours" burst out laughing in Hippolyte's +face, and Prince Andrew saw that Hippolyte, of whom--he had to +admit--he had almost been jealous on his wife's account, was the +butt of this set. + +"Oh, I must give you a treat," Bilibin whispered to Bolkonski. +"Kuragin is exquisite when he discusses politics--you should see his +gravity!" + +He sat down beside Hippolyte and wrinkling his forehead began +talking to him about politics. Prince Andrew and the others gathered +round these two. + +"The Berlin cabinet cannot express a feeling of alliance," began +Hippolyte gazing round with importance at the others, "without +expressing... as in its last note... you understand... Besides, unless +His Majesty the Emperor derogates from the principle of our +alliance... + +"Wait, I have not finished..." he said to Prince Andrew, seizing him +by the arm, "I believe that intervention will be stronger than +nonintervention. And..." he paused. "Finally one cannot impute the +nonreceipt of our dispatch of November 18. That is how it will end." +And he released Bolkonski's arm to indicate that he had now quite +finished. + +"Demosthenes, I know thee by the pebble thou secretest in thy golden +mouth!" said Bilibin, and the mop of hair on his head moved with +satisfaction. + +Everybody laughed, and Hippolyte louder than anyone. He was +evidently distressed, and breathed painfully, but could not restrain +the wild laughter that convulsed his usually impassive features. + +"Well now, gentlemen," said Bilibin, "Bolkonski is my guest in +this house and in Brunn itself. I want to entertain him as far as I +can, with all the pleasures of life here. If we were in Vienna it +would be easy, but here, in this wretched Moravian hole, it is more +difficult, and I beg you all to help me. Brunn's attractions must be +shown him. You can undertake the theater, I society, and you, +Hippolyte, of course the women." + +"We must let him see Amelie, she's exquisite!" said one of "ours," +kissing his finger tips. + +"In general we must turn this bloodthirsty soldier to more humane +interests," said Bilibin. + +"I shall scarcely be able to avail myself of your hospitality, +gentlemen, it is already time for me to go," replied Prince Andrew +looking at his watch. + +"Where to?" + +"To the Emperor." + +"Oh! Oh! Oh! Well, au revoir, Bolkonski! Au revoir, Prince! Come +back early to dinner," cried several voices. "We'll take you in hand." + +"When speaking to the Emperor, try as far as you can to praise the +way that provisions are supplied and the routes indicated," said +Bilibin, accompanying him to the hall. + +"I should like to speak well of them, but as far as I know the facts, +I can't," replied Bolkonski, smiling. + +"Well, talk as much as you can, anyway. He has a passion for +giving audiences, but he does not like talking himself and can't do +it, as you will see." + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +At the levee Prince Andrew stood among the Austrian officers as he had +been told to, and the Emperor Francis merely looked fixedly into his +face and just nodded to him with his long head. But after it was over, +the adjutant he had seen the previous day ceremoniously informed +Bolkonski that the Emperor desired to give him an audience. The +Emperor Francis received him standing in the middle of the room. +Before the conversation began Prince Andrew was struck by the fact +that the Emperor seemed confused and blushed as if not knowing what to +say. + +"Tell me, when did the battle begin?" he asked hurriedly. + +Prince Andrew replied. Then followed other questions just as simple: +"Was Kutuzov well? When had he left Krems?" and so on. The Emperor +spoke as if his sole aim were to put a given number of questions--the +answers to these questions, as was only too evident, did not interest +him. + +"At what o'clock did the battle begin?" asked the Emperor. + +"I cannot inform Your Majesty at what o'clock the battle began at +the front, but at Durrenstein, where I was, our attack began after +five in the afternoon," replied Bolkonski growing more animated and +expecting that he would have a chance to give a reliable account, +which he had ready in his mind, of all he knew and had seen. But the +Emperor smiled and interrupted him. + +"How many miles?" + +"From where to where, Your Majesty?" + +"From Durrenstein to Krems." + +"Three and a half miles, Your Majesty." + +"The French have abandoned the left bank?" + +"According to the scouts the last of them crossed on rafts during +the night." + +"Is there sufficient forage in Krems?" + +"Forage has not been supplied to the extent..." + +The Emperor interrupted him. + +"At what o'clock was General Schmidt killed?" + +"At seven o'clock, I believe." + +"At seven o'clock? It's very sad, very sad!" + +The Emperor thanked Prince Andrew and bowed. Prince Andrew +withdrew and was immediately surrounded by courtiers on all sides. +Everywhere he saw friendly looks and heard friendly words. Yesterday's +adjutant reproached him for not having stayed at the palace, and +offered him his own house. The Minister of War came up and +congratulated him on the Maria Theresa Order of the third grade, which +the Emperor was conferring on him. The Empress' chamberlain invited +him to see Her Majesty. The archduchess also wished to see him. He did +not know whom to answer, and for a few seconds collected his thoughts. +Then the Russian ambassador took him by the shoulder, led him to the +window, and began to talk to him. + +Contrary to Bilibin's forecast the news he had brought was +joyfully received. A thanksgiving service was arranged, Kutuzov was +awarded the Grand Cross of Maria Theresa, and the whole army +received rewards. Bolkonski was invited everywhere, and had to spend +the whole morning calling on the principal Austrian dignitaries. +Between four and five in the afternoon, having made all his calls, +he was returning to Bilibin's house thinking out a letter to his +father about the battle and his visit to Brunn. At the door he found a +vehicle half full of luggage. Franz, Bilibin's man, was dragging a +portmanteau with some difficulty out of the front door. + +Before returning to Bilibin's Prince Andrew had gone to a bookshop +to provide himself with some books for the campaign, and had spent +some time in the shop. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"Oh, your excellency!" said Franz, with difficulty rolling the +portmanteau into the vehicle, "we are to move on still farther. The +scoundrel is again at our heels!" + +"Eh? What?" asked Prince Andrew. + +Bilibin came out to meet him. His usually calm face showed +excitement. + +"There now! Confess that this is delightful," said he. "This +affair of the Thabor Bridge, at Vienna.... They have crossed without +striking a blow!" + +Prince Andrew could not understand. + +"But where do you come from not to know what every coachman in the +town knows?" + +"I come from the archduchess'. I heard nothing there." + +"And you didn't see that everybody is packing up?" + +"I did not... What is it all about?" inquired Prince Andrew +impatiently. + +"What's it all about? Why, the French have crossed the bridge that +Auersperg was defending, and the bridge was not blown up: so Murat +is now rushing along the road to Brunn and will be here in a day or +two." + +"What? Here? But why did they not blow up the bridge, if it was +mined?" + +"That is what I ask you. No one, not even Bonaparte, knows why." + +Bolkonski shrugged his shoulders. + +"But if the bridge is crossed it means that the army too is lost? It +will be cut off," said he. + +"That's just it," answered Bilibin. "Listen! The French entered +Vienna as I told you. Very well. Next day, which was yesterday, +those gentlemen, messieurs les marechaux,* Murat, Lannes, and Belliard, +mount and ride to the bridge. (Observe that all three are Gascons.) +'Gentlemen,' says one of them, 'you know the Thabor Bridge is mined +and doubly mined and that there are menacing fortifications at its +head and an army of fifteen thousand men has been ordered to blow up +the bridge and not let us cross? But it will please our sovereign +the Emperor Napoleon if we take this bridge, so let us three go and +take it!' 'Yes, let's!' say the others. And off they go and take the +bridge, cross it, and now with their whole army are on this side of +the Danube, marching on us, you, and your lines of communication." + + +*The marshalls. + + +"Stop jesting," said Prince Andrew sadly and seriously. This news +grieved him and yet he was pleased. + +As soon as he learned that the Russian army was in such a hopeless +situation it occurred to him that it was he who was destined to lead +it out of this position; that here was the Toulon that would lift +him from the ranks of obscure officers and offer him the first step to +fame! Listening to Bilibin he was already imagining how on reaching +the army he would give an opinion at the war council which would be +the only one that could save the army, and how he alone would be +entrusted with the executing of the plan. + +"Stop this jesting," he said + +"I am not jesting," Bilibin went on. "Nothing is truer or sadder. +These gentlemen ride onto the bridge alone and wave white +handkerchiefs; they assure the officer on duty that they, the +marshals, are on their way to negotiate with Prince Auersperg. He lets +them enter the tete-de-pont.* They spin him a thousand gasconades, +saying that the war is over, that the Emperor Francis is arranging a +meeting with Bonaparte, that they desire to see Prince Auersperg, +and so on. The officer sends for Auersperg; these gentlemen embrace +the officers, crack jokes, sit on the cannon, and meanwhile a French +battalion gets to the bridge unobserved, flings the bags of incendiary +material into the water, and approaches the tete-de-pont. At length +appears the lieutenant general, our dear Prince Auersperg von +Mautern himself. 'Dearest foe! Flower of the Austrian army, hero of +the Turkish wars Hostilities are ended, we can shake one another's +hand.... The Emperor Napoleon burns with impatience to make Prince +Auersperg's acquaintance.' In a word, those gentlemen, Gascons indeed, +so bewildered him with fine words, and he is so flattered by his +rapidly established intimacy with the French marshals, and so +dazzled by the sight of Murat's mantle and ostrich plumes, qu'il n'y +voit que du feu, et oublie celui qu'il devait faire faire sur +l'ennemi!"*[2] In spite of the animation of his speech, Bilibin did +not forget to pause after this mot to give time for its due +appreciation. "The French battalion rushes to the bridgehead, spikes +the guns, and the bridge is taken! But what is best of all," he went +on, his excitement subsiding under the delightful interest of his +own story, "is that the sergeant in charge of the cannon which was +to give the signal to fire the mines and blow up the bridge, this +sergeant, seeing that the French troops were running onto the +bridge, was about to fire, but Lannes stayed his hand. The sergeant, +who was evidently wiser than his general, goes up to Auersperg and +says: 'Prince, you are being deceived, here are the French!' Murat, +seeing that all is lost if the sergeant is allowed to speak, turns +to Auersperg with feigned astonishment (he is a true Gascon) and says: +'I don't recognize the world-famous Austrian discipline, if you +allow a subordinate to address you like that!' It was a stroke of +genius. Prince Auersperg feels his dignity at stake and orders the +sergeant to be arrested. Come, you must own that this affair of the +Thabor Bridge is delightful! It is not exactly stupidity, nor +rascality...." + + +*Bridgehead. + +*[2] That their fire gets into his eyes and he forgets that he ought +to be firing at the enemy. + + +"It may be treachery," said Prince Andrew, vividly imagining the +gray overcoats, wounds, the smoke of gunpowder, the sounds of +firing, and the glory that awaited him. + +"Not that either. That puts the court in too bad a light," replied +Bilibin. "It's not treachery nor rascality nor stupidity: it is just as +at Ulm... it is..."--he seemed to be trying to find the right +expression. "C'est... c'est du Mack. Nous sommes mackes [It is... it +is a bit of Mack. We are Macked]," he concluded, feeling that he had +produced a good epigram, a fresh one that would be repeated. His +hitherto puckered brow became smooth as a sign of pleasure, and with a +slight smile he began to examine his nails. + +"Where are you off to?" he said suddenly to Prince Andrew who had +risen and was going toward his room. + +"I am going away." + +"Where to?" + +"To the army." + +"But you meant to stay another two days?" + +"But now I am off at once." + +And Prince Andrew after giving directions about his departure went +to his room. + +"Do you know, mon cher," said Bilibin following him, "I have been +thinking about you. Why are you going?" + +And in proof of the conclusiveness of his opinion all the wrinkles +vanished from his face. + +Prince Andrew looked inquiringly at him and gave no reply. + +"Why are you going? I know you think it your duty to gallop back +to the army now that it is in danger. I understand that. Mon cher, +it is heroism!" + +"Not at all," said Prince Andrew. + +"But as you are a philosopher, be a consistent one, look at the +other side of the question and you will see that your duty, on the +contrary, is to take care of yourself. Leave it to those who are no +longer fit for anything else.... You have not been ordered to return +and have not been dismissed from here; therefore, you can stay and +go with us wherever our ill luck takes us. They say we are going to +Olmutz, and Olmutz is a very decent town. You and I will travel +comfortably in my caleche." + +"Do stop joking, Bilibin," cried Bolkonski. + +"I am speaking sincerely as a friend! Consider! Where and why are +you going, when you might remain here? You are faced by one of two +things," and the skin over his left temple puckered, "either you +will not reach your regiment before peace is concluded, or you will +share defeat and disgrace with Kutuzov's whole army." + +And Bilibin unwrinkled his temple, feeling that the dilemma was +insoluble. + +"I cannot argue about it," replied Prince Andrew coldly, but he +thought: "I am going to save the army." + +"My dear fellow, you are a hero!" said Bilibin. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +That same night, having taken leave of the Minister of War, +Bolkonski set off to rejoin the army, not knowing where he would +find it and fearing to be captured by the French on the way to Krems. + +In Brunn everybody attached to the court was packing up, and the +heavy baggage was already being dispatched to Olmutz. Near Hetzelsdorf +Prince Andrew struck the high road along which the Russian army was +moving with great haste and in the greatest disorder. The road was +so obstructed with carts that it was impossible to get by in a +carriage. Prince Andrew took a horse and a Cossack from a Cossack +commander, and hungry and weary, making his way past the baggage +wagons, rode in search of the commander in chief and of his own +luggage. Very sinister reports of the position of the army reached him +as he went along, and the appearance of the troops in their disorderly +flight confirmed these rumors. + +"Cette armee russe que l'or de l'Angleterre a transportee des +extremites de l'univers, nous allons lui faire eprouver le meme +sort--(le sort de l'armee d'Ulm)."* He remembered these words in +Bonaparte's address to his army at the beginning of the campaign, +and they awoke in him astonishment at the genius of his hero, a +feeling of wounded pride, and a hope of glory. "And should there be +nothing left but to die?" he thought. "Well, if need be, I shall do it +no worse than others." + + +*"That Russian army which has been brought from the ends of the +earth by English gold, we shall cause to share the same fate--(the +fate of the army at Ulm)." + + +He looked with disdain at the endless confused mass of +detachments, carts, guns, artillery, and again baggage wagons and +vehicles of all kinds overtaking one another and blocking the muddy +road, three and sometimes four abreast. From all sides, behind and +before, as far as ear could reach, there were the rattle of wheels, +the creaking of carts and gun carriages, the tramp of horses, the +crack of whips, shouts, the urging of horses, and the swearing of +soldiers, orderlies, and officers. All along the sides of the road +fallen horses were to be seen, some flayed, some not, and +broken-down carts beside which solitary soldiers sat waiting for +something, and again soldiers straggling from their companies, +crowds of whom set off to the neighboring villages, or returned from +them dragging sheep, fowls, hay, and bulging sacks. At each ascent +or descent of the road the crowds were yet denser and the din of +shouting more incessant. Soldiers floundering knee-deep in mud +pushed the guns and wagons themselves. Whips cracked, hoofs slipped, +traces broke, and lungs were strained with shouting. The officers +directing the march rode backward and forward between the carts. Their +voices were but feebly heard amid the uproar and one saw by their +faces that they despaired of the possibility of checking this +disorder. + +"Here is our dear Orthodox Russian army," thought Bolkonski, +recalling Bilibin's words. + +Wishing to find out where the commander in chief was, he rode up +to a convoy. Directly opposite to him came a strange one-horse +vehicle, evidently rigged up by soldiers out of any available +materials and looking like something between a cart, a cabriolet, +and a caleche. A soldier was driving, and a woman enveloped in +shawls sat behind the apron under the leather hood of the vehicle. +Prince Andrew rode up and was just putting his question to a soldier +when his attention was diverted by the desperate shrieks of the +woman in the vehicle. An officer in charge of transport was beating +the soldier who was driving the woman's vehicle for trying to get +ahead of others, and the strokes of his whip fell on the apron of +the equipage. The woman screamed piercingly. Seeing Prince Andrew +she leaned out from behind the apron and, waving her thin arms from +under the woolen shawl, cried: + +"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Mr. Aide-de-camp!... For heaven's sake... Protect +me! What will become of us? I am the wife of the doctor of the Seventh +Chasseurs.... They won't let us pass, we are left behind and have lost +our people..." + +"I'll flatten you into a pancake!" shouted the angry officer to +the soldier. "Turn back with your slut!" + +"Mr. Aide-de-camp! Help me!... What does it all mean?" screamed +the doctor's wife. + +"Kindly let this cart pass. Don't you see it's a woman?" said Prince +Andrew riding up to the officer. + +The officer glanced at him, and without replying turned again to the +soldier. "I'll teach you to push on!... Back!" + +"Let them pass, I tell you!" repeated Prince Andrew, compressing his +lips. + +"And who are you?" cried the officer, turning on him with tipsy +rage, "who are you? Are you in command here? Eh? I am commander +here, not you! Go back or I'll flatten you into a pancake," repeated +he. This expression evidently pleased him. + +"That was a nice snub for the little aide-de-camp," came a voice +from behind. + +Prince Andrew saw that the officer was in that state of senseless, +tipsy rage when a man does not know what he is saying. He saw that his +championship of the doctor's wife in her queer trap might expose him +to what he dreaded more than anything in the world--to ridicule; but +his instinct urged him on. Before the officer finished his sentence +Prince Andrew, his face distorted with fury, rode up to him and raised +his riding whip. + +"Kind...ly let--them--pass!" + +The officer flourished his arm and hastily rode away. + +"It's all the fault of these fellows on the staff that there's +this disorder," he muttered. "Do as you like." + +Prince Andrew without lifting his eyes rode hastily away from the +doctor's wife, who was calling him her deliverer, and recalling with a +sense of disgust the minutest details of this humiliating scene he +galloped on to the village where he was told that the commander in +chief was. + +On reaching the village he dismounted and went to the nearest house, +intending to rest if but for a moment, eat something, and try to +sort out the stinging and tormenting thoughts that confused his +mind. "This is a mob of scoundrels and not an army," he was thinking +as he went up to the window of the first house, when a familiar +voice called him by name. + +He turned round. Nesvitski's handsome face looked out of the +little window. Nesvitski, moving his moist lips as he chewed +something, and flourishing his arm, called him to enter. + +"Bolkonski! Bolkonski!... Don't you hear? Eh? Come quick..." he +shouted. + +Entering the house, Prince Andrew saw Nesvitski and another adjutant +having something to eat. They hastily turned round to him asking if he +had any news. On their familiar faces he read agitation and alarm. +This was particularly noticeable on Nesvitski's usually laughing +countenance. + +"Where is the commander in chief?" asked Bolkonski. + +"Here, in that house," answered the adjutant. + +"Well, is it true that it's peace and capitulation?" asked +Nesvitski. + +"I was going to ask you. I know nothing except that it was all I +could do to get here." + +"And we, my dear boy! It's terrible! I was wrong to laugh at Mack, +we're getting it still worse," said Nesvitski. "But sit down and +have something to eat." + +"You won't be able to find either your baggage or anything else now, +Prince. And God only knows where your man Peter is," said the other +adjutant. + +"Where are headquarters?" + +"We are to spend the night in Znaim." + +"Well, I have got all I need into packs for two horses," said +Nesvitski. "They've made up splendid packs for me--fit to cross the +Bohemian mountains with. It's a bad lookout, old fellow! But what's +the matter with you? You must be ill to shiver like that," he added, +noticing that Prince Andrew winced as at an electric shock. + +"It's nothing," replied Prince Andrew. + +He had just remembered his recent encounter with the doctor's wife +and the convoy officer. + +"What is the commander in chief doing here?" he asked. + +"I can't make out at all," said Nesvitski. + +"Well, all I can make out is that everything is abominable, +abominable, quite abominable!" said Prince Andrew, and he went off +to the house where the commander in chief was. + +Passing by Kutuzov's carriage and the exhausted saddle horses of his +suite, with their Cossacks who were talking loudly together, Prince +Andrew entered the passage. Kutuzov himself, he was told, was in the +house with Prince Bagration and Weyrother. Weyrother was the +Austrian general who had succeeded Schmidt. In the passage little +Kozlovski was squatting on his heels in front of a clerk. The clerk, +with cuffs turned up, was hastily writing at a tub turned bottom +upwards. Kozlovski's face looked worn--he too had evidently not +slept all night. He glanced at Prince Andrew and did not even nod to +him. + +"Second line... have you written it?" he continued dictating to +the clerk. "The Kiev Grenadiers, Podolian..." + +"One can't write so fast, your honor," said the clerk, glancing +angrily and disrespectfully at Kozlovski. + +Through the door came the sounds of Kutuzov's voice, excited and +dissatisfied, interrupted by another, an unfamiliar voice. From the +sound of these voices, the inattentive way Kozlovski looked at him, +the disrespectful manner of the exhausted clerk, the fact that the +clerk and Kozlovski were squatting on the floor by a tub so near to +the commander in chief, and from the noisy laughter of the Cossacks +holding the horses near the window, Prince Andrew felt that +something important and disastrous was about to happen. + +He turned to Kozlovski with urgent questions. + +"Immediately, Prince," said Kozlovski. "Dispositions for Bagration." + +"What about capitulation?" + +"Nothing of the sort. Orders are issued for a battle." + +Prince Andrew moved toward the door from whence voices were heard. +Just as he was going to open it the sounds ceased, the door opened, +and Kutuzov with his eagle nose and puffy face appeared in the +doorway. Prince Andrew stood right in front of Kutuzov but the +expression of the commander in chief's one sound eye showed him to +be so preoccupied with thoughts and anxieties as to be oblivious of +his presence. He looked straight at his adjutant's face without +recognizing him. + +"Well, have you finished?" said he to Kozlovski. + +"One moment, your excellency." + +Bagration, a gaunt middle-aged man of medium height with a firm, +impassive face of Oriental type, came out after the commander in +chief. + +"I have the honor to present myself," repeated Prince Andrew +rather loudly, handing Kutuzov an envelope. + +"Ah, from Vienna? Very good. Later, later!" + +Kutuzov went out into the porch with Bagration. + +"Well, good-by, Prince," said he to Bagration. "My blessing, and may +Christ be with you in your great endeavor!" + +His face suddenly softened and tears came into his eyes. With his +left hand he drew Bagration toward him, and with his right, on which +he wore a ring, he made the sign of the cross over him with a +gesture evidently habitual, offering his puffy cheek, but Bagration +kissed him on the neck instead. + +"Christ be with you!" Kutuzov repeated and went toward his carriage. +"Get in with me," said he to Bolkonski. + +"Your excellency, I should like to be of use here. Allow me to +remain with Prince Bagration's detachment." + +"Get in," said Kutuzov, and noticing that Bolkonski still delayed, +he added: "I need good officers myself, need them myself!" + +They got into the carriage and drove for a few minutes in silence. + +"There is still much, much before us," he said, as if with an old +man's penetration he understood all that was passing in Bolkonski's +mind. "If a tenth part of his detachment returns I shall thank God," +he added as if speaking to himself. + +Prince Andrew glanced at Kutuzov's face only a foot distant from him +and involuntarily noticed the carefully washed seams of the scar +near his temple, where an Ismail bullet had pierced his skull, and the +empty eye socket. "Yes, he has a right to speak so calmly of those +men's death," thought Bolkonski. + +"That is why I beg to be sent to that detachment," he said. + +Kutuzov did not reply. He seemed to have forgotten what he had +been saying, and sat plunged in thought. Five minutes later, gently +swaying on the soft springs of the carriage, he turned to Prince +Andrew. There was not a trace of agitation on his face. With +delicate irony he questioned Prince Andrew about the details of his +interview with the Emperor, about the remarks he had heard at court +concerning the Krems affair, and about some ladies they both knew. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +On November 1 Kutuzov had received, through a spy, news that the +army he commanded was in an almost hopeless position. The spy reported +that the French, after crossing the bridge at Vienna, were advancing +in immense force upon Kutuzov's line of communication with the +troops that were arriving from Russia. If Kutuzov decided to remain at +Krems, Napoleon's army of one hundred and fifty thousand men would cut +him off completely and surround his exhausted army of forty +thousand, and he would find himself in the position of Mack at Ulm. If +Kutuzov decided to abandon the road connecting him with the troops +arriving from Russia, he would have to march with no road into unknown +parts of the Bohemian mountains, defending himself against superior +forces of the enemy and abandoning all hope of a junction with +Buxhowden. If Kutuzov decided to retreat along the road from Krems +to Olmutz, to unite with the troops arriving from Russia, he risked +being forestalled on that road by the French who had crossed the +Vienna bridge, and encumbered by his baggage and transport, having +to accept battle on the march against an enemy three times as +strong, who would hem him in from two sides. + +Kutuzov chose this latter course. + +The French, the spy reported, having crossed the Vienna bridge, were +advancing by forced marches toward Znaim, which lay sixty-six miles +off on the line of Kutuzov's retreat. If he reached Znaim before the +French, there would be great hope of saving the army; to let the +French forestall him at Znaim meant the exposure of his whole army +to a disgrace such as that of Ulm, or to utter destruction. But to +forestall the French with his whole army was impossible. The road +for the French from Vienna to Znaim was shorter and better than the +road for the Russians from Krems to Znaim. + +The night he received the news, Kutuzov sent Bagration's vanguard, +four thousand strong, to the right across the hills from the +Krems-Znaim to the Vienna-Znaim road. Bagration was to make this march +without resting, and to halt facing Vienna with Znaim to his rear, and +if he succeeded in forestalling the French he was to delay them as +long as possible. Kutuzov himself with all his transport took the road +to Znaim. + +Marching thirty miles that stormy night across roadless hills, +with his hungry, ill-shod soldiers, and losing a third of his men as +stragglers by the way, Bagration came out on the Vienna-Znaim road +at Hollabrunn a few hours ahead of the French who were approaching +Hollabrunn from Vienna. Kutuzov with his transport had still to +march for some days before he could reach Znaim. Hence Bagration +with his four thousand hungry, exhausted men would have to detain +for days the whole enemy army that came upon him at Hollabrunn, +which was clearly impossible. But a freak of fate made the +impossible possible. The success of the trick that had placed the +Vienna bridge in the hands of the French without a fight led Murat +to try to deceive Kutuzov in a similar way. Meeting Bagration's weak +detachment on the Znaim road he supposed it to be Kutuzov's whole +army. To be able to crush it absolutely he awaited the arrival of +the rest of the troops who were on their way from Vienna, and with +this object offered a three days' truce on condition that both +armies should remain in position without moving. Murat declared that +negotiations for peace were already proceeding, and that he +therefore offered this truce to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Count +Nostitz, the Austrian general occupying the advanced posts, believed +Murat's emissary and retired, leaving Bagration's division exposed. +Another emissary rode to the Russian line to announce the peace +negotiations and to offer the Russian army the three days' truce. +Bagration replied that he was not authorized either to accept or +refuse a truce and sent his adjutant to Kutuzov to report the offer he +had received. + +A truce was Kutuzov's sole chance of gaining time, giving +Bagration's exhausted troops some rest, and letting the transport +and heavy convoys (whose movements were concealed from the French) +advance if but one stage nearer Znaim. The offer of a truce gave the +only, and a quite unexpected, chance of saving the army. On +receiving the news he immediately dispatched Adjutant General +Wintzingerode, who was in attendance on him, to the enemy camp. +Wintzingerode was not merely to agree to the truce but also to offer +terms of capitulation, and meanwhile Kutuzov sent his adjutants back +to hasten to the utmost the movements of the baggage trains of the +entire army along the Krems-Znaim road. Bagration's exhausted and +hungry detachment, which alone covered this movement of the +transport and of the whole army, had to remain stationary in face of +an enemy eight times as strong as itself. + +Kutuzov's expectations that the proposals of capitulation (which +were in no way binding) might give time for part of the transport to +pass, and also that Murat's mistake would very soon be discovered, +proved correct. As soon as Bonaparte (who was at Schonbrunn, sixteen +miles from Hollabrunn) received Murat's dispatch with the proposal +of a truce and a capitulation, he detected a ruse and wrote the +following letter to Murat: + + +Schonbrunn, 25th Brumaire, 1805, + +at eight o'clock in the morning + +To PRINCE MURAT, + +I cannot find words to express to you my displeasure. You command +only my advance guard, and have no right to arrange an armistice +without my order. You are causing me to lose the fruits of a campaign. +Break the armistice immediately and march on the enemy. Inform him +that the general who signed that capitulation had no right to do so, +and that no one but the Emperor of Russia has that right. + +If, however, the Emperor of Russia ratifies that convention, I +will ratify it; but it is only a trick. March on, destroy the +Russian army.... You are in a position to seize its baggage and +artillery. + +The Russian Emperor's aide-de-camp is an impostor. Officers are +nothing when they have no powers; this one had none.... The +Austrians let themselves be tricked at the crossing of the Vienna +bridge, you are letting yourself be tricked by an aide-de-camp of +the Emperor. + +NAPOLEON + + +Bonaparte's adjutant rode full gallop with this menacing letter to +Murat. Bonaparte himself, not trusting to his generals, moved with all +the Guards to the field of battle, afraid of letting a ready victim +escape, and Bagration's four thousand men merrily lighted campfires, +dried and warmed themselves, cooked their porridge for the first +time for three days, and not one of them knew or imagined what was +in store for him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Between three and four o'clock in the afternoon Prince Andrew, who +had persisted in his request to Kutuzov, arrived at Grunth and +reported himself to Bagration. Bonaparte's adjutant had not yet +reached Murat's detachment and the battle had not yet begun. In +Bagration's detachment no one knew anything of the general position of +affairs. They talked of peace but did not believe in its +possibility; others talked of a battle but also disbelieved in the +nearness of an engagement. Bagration, knowing Bolkonski to be a +favorite and trusted adjutant, received him with distinction and +special marks of favor, explaining to him that there would probably be +an engagement that day or the next, and giving him full liberty to +remain with him during the battle or to join the rearguard and have an +eye on the order of retreat, "which is also very important." + +"However, there will hardly be an engagement today," said +Bagration as if to reassure Prince Andrew. + +"If he is one of the ordinary little staff dandies sent to earn a +medal he can get his reward just as well in the rearguard, but if he +wishes to stay with me, let him... he'll be of use here if he's a +brave officer," thought Bagration. Prince Andrew, without replying, +asked the prince's permission to ride round the position to see the +disposition of the forces, so as to know his bearings should he be +sent to execute an order. The officer on duty, a handsome, elegantly +dressed man with a diamond ring on his forefinger, who was fond of +speaking French though he spoke it badly, offered to conduct Prince +Andrew. + +On all sides they saw rain-soaked officers with dejected faces who +seemed to be seeking something, and soldiers dragging doors, +benches, and fencing from the village. + +"There now, Prince! We can't stop those fellows," said the staff +officer pointing to the soldiers. "The officers don't keep them in +hand. And there," he pointed to a sutler's tent, "they crowd in and +sit. This morning I turned them all out and now look, it's full again. +I must go there, Prince, and scare them a bit. It won't take a +moment." + +"Yes, let's go in and I will get myself a roll and some cheese," +said Prince Andrew who had not yet had time to eat anything. + +"Why didn't you mention it, Prince? I would have offered you +something." + +They dismounted and entered the tent. Several officers, with flushed +and weary faces, were sitting at the table eating and drinking. + +"Now what does this mean, gentlemen?" said the staff officer, in the +reproachful tone of a man who has repeated the same thing more than +once. "You know it won't do to leave your posts like this. The +prince gave orders that no one should leave his post. Now you, +Captain," and he turned to a thin, dirty little artillery officer +who without his boots (he had given them to the canteen keeper to +dry), in only his stockings, rose when they entered, smiling not +altogether comfortably. + +"Well, aren't you ashamed of yourself, Captain Tushin?" he +continued. "One would think that as an artillery officer you would set +a good example, yet here you are without your boots! The alarm will be +sounded and you'll be in a pretty position without your boots!" (The +staff officer smiled.) "Kindly return to your posts, gentlemen, all of +you, all!" he added in a tone of command. + +Prince Andrew smiled involuntarily as he looked at the artillery +officer Tushin, who silent and smiling, shifting from one stockinged +foot to the other, glanced inquiringly with his large, intelligent, +kindly eyes from Prince Andrew to the staff officer. + +"The soldiers say it feels easier without boots," said Captain +Tushin smiling shyly in his uncomfortable position, evidently +wishing to adopt a jocular tone. But before he had finished he felt +that his jest was unacceptable and had not come off. He grew confused. + +"Kindly return to your posts," said the staff officer trying to +preserve his gravity. + +Prince Andrew glanced again at the artillery officer's small figure. +There was something peculiar about it, quite unsoldierly, rather +comic, but extremely attractive. + +The staff officer and Prince Andrew mounted their horses and rode +on. + +Having ridden beyond the village, continually meeting and overtaking +soldiers and officers of various regiments, they saw on their left +some entrenchments being thrown up, the freshly dug clay of which +showed up red. Several battalions of soldiers, in their shirt +sleeves despite the cold wind, swarmed in these earthworks like a host +of white ants; spadefuls of red clay were continually being thrown +up from behind the bank by unseen hands. Prince Andrew and the officer +rode up, looked at the entrenchment, and went on again. Just behind it +they came upon some dozens of soldiers, continually replaced by +others, who ran from the entrenchment. They had to hold their noses +and put their horses to a trot to escape from the poisoned +atmosphere of these latrines. + +"Voila l'agrement des camps, monsieur le Prince,"* said the staff +officer. + + +*"This is a pleasure one gets in camp, Prince." + + +They rode up the opposite hill. From there the French could +already be seen. Prince Andrew stopped and began examining the +position. + +"That's our battery," said the staff officer indicating the +highest point. "It's in charge of the queer fellow we saw without +his boots. You can see everything from there; let's go there, Prince." + +"Thank you very much, I will go on alone," said Prince Andrew, +wishing to rid himself of this staff officer's company, "please +don't trouble yourself further." + +The staff officer remained behind and Prince Andrew rode on alone. + +The farther forward and nearer the enemy he went, the more orderly +and cheerful were the troops. The greatest disorder and depression had +been in the baggage train he had passed that morning on the Znaim road +seven miles away from the French. At Grunth also some apprehension and +alarm could be felt, but the nearer Prince Andrew came to the French +lines the more confident was the appearance of our troops. The +soldiers in their greatcoats were ranged in lines, the sergeants major +and company officers were counting the men, poking the last man in +each section in the ribs and telling him to hold his hand up. Soldiers +scattered over the whole place were dragging logs and brushwood and +were building shelters with merry chatter and laughter; around the +fires sat others, dressed and undressed, drying their shirts and leg +bands or mending boots or overcoats and crowding round the boilers and +porridge cookers. In one company dinner was ready, and the soldiers +were gazing eagerly at the steaming boiler, waiting till the sample, +which a quartermaster sergeant was carrying in a wooden bowl to an +officer who sat on a log before his shelter, had been tasted. + +Another company, a lucky one for not all the companies had vodka, +crowded round a pockmarked, broad-shouldered sergeant major who, +tilting a keg, filled one after another the canteen lids held out to +him. The soldiers lifted the canteen lids to their lips with +reverential faces, emptied them, rolling the vodka in their mouths, +and walked away from the sergeant major with brightened expressions, +licking their lips and wiping them on the sleeves of their greatcoats. +All their faces were as serene as if all this were happening at home +awaiting peaceful encampment, and not within sight of the enemy before +an action in which at least half of them would be left on the field. +After passing a chasseur regiment and in the lines of the Kiev +grenadiers--fine fellows busy with similar peaceful affairs--near +the shelter of the regimental commander, higher than and different +from the others, Prince Andrew came out in front of a platoon of +grenadiers before whom lay a naked man. Two soldiers held him while +two others were flourishing their switches and striking him +regularly on his bare back. The man shrieked unnaturally. A stout +major was pacing up and down the line, and regardless of the screams +kept repeating: + +"It's a shame for a soldier to steal; a soldier must be honest, +honorable, and brave, but if he robs his fellows there is no honor +in him, he's a scoundrel. Go on! Go on!" + +So the swishing sound of the strokes, and the desperate but +unnatural screams, continued. + +"Go on, go on!" said the major. + +A young officer with a bewildered and pained expression on his +face stepped away from the man and looked round inquiringly at the +adjutant as he rode by. + +Prince Andrew, having reached the front line, rode along it. Our +front line and that of the enemy were far apart on the right and +left flanks, but in the center where the men with a flag of truce +had passed that morning, the lines were so near together that the +men could see one another's faces and speak to one another. Besides +the soldiers who formed the picket line on either side, there were +many curious onlookers who, jesting and laughing, stared at their +strange foreign enemies. + +Since early morning--despite an injunction not to approach the +picket line--the officers had been unable to keep sight-seers away. +The soldiers forming the picket line, like showmen exhibiting a +curiosity, no longer looked at the French but paid attention to the +sight-seers and grew weary waiting to be relieved. Prince Andrew +halted to have a look at the French. + +"Look! Look there!" one soldier was saying to another, pointing to a +Russian musketeer who had gone up to the picket line with an officer +and was rapidly and excitedly talking to a French grenadier. "Hark +to him jabbering! Fine, isn't it? It's all the Frenchy can do to +keep up with him. There now, Sidorov!" + +"Wait a bit and listen. It's fine!" answered Sidorov, who was +considered an adept at French. + +The soldier to whom the laughers referred was Dolokhov. Prince +Andrew recognized him and stopped to listen to what he was saying. +Dolokhov had come from the left flank where their regiment was +stationed, with his captain. + +"Now then, go on, go on!" incited the officer, bending forward and +trying not to lose a word of the speech which was incomprehensible +to him. "More, please: more! What's he saying?" + +Dolokhov did not answer the captain; he had been drawn into a hot +dispute with the French grenadier. They were naturally talking about +the campaign. The Frenchman, confusing the Austrians with the +Russians, was trying to prove that the Russians had surrendered and +had fled all the way from Ulm, while Dolokhov maintained that the +Russians had not surrendered but had beaten the French. + +"We have orders to drive you off here, and we shall drive you +off," said Dolokhov. + +"Only take care you and your Cossacks are not all captured!" said +the French grenadier. + +The French onlookers and listeners laughed. + +"We'll make you dance as we did under Suvorov...,"* said Dolokhov. + + +*"On vous fera danser." + + +"Qu' est-ce qu'il chante?"* asked a Frenchman. + + +*"What's he singing about?" + + +"It's ancient history," said another, guessing that it referred to a +former war. "The Emperor will teach your Suvara as he has taught the +others..." + +"Bonaparte..." began Dolokhov, but the Frenchman interrupted him. + +"Not Bonaparte. He is the Emperor! Sacre nom...!" cried he angrily. + +"The devil skin your Emperor." + +And Dolokhov swore at him in coarse soldier's Russian and +shouldering his musket walked away. + +"Let us go, Ivan Lukich," he said to the captain. + +"Ah, that's the way to talk French," said the picket soldiers. "Now, +Sidorov, you have a try!" + +Sidorov, turning to the French, winked, and began to jabber +meaningless sounds very fast: "Kari, mala, tafa, safi, muter, +Kaska," he said, trying to give an expressive intonation to his voice. + +"Ho! ho! ho! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Ouh! ouh!" came peals of such healthy and +good-humored laughter from the soldiers that it infected the French +involuntarily, so much so that the only thing left to do seemed to be +to unload the muskets, explode the ammunition, and all return home as +quickly as possible. + +But the guns remained loaded, the loopholes in blockhouses and +entrenchments looked out just as menacingly, and the unlimbered cannon +confronted one another as before. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Having ridden round the whole line from right flank to left, +Prince Andrew made his way up to the battery from which the staff +officer had told him the whole field could be seen. Here he +dismounted, and stopped beside the farthest of the four unlimbered +cannon. Before the guns an artillery sentry was pacing up and down; he +stood at attention when the officer arrived, but at a sign resumed his +measured, monotonous pacing. Behind the guns were their limbers and +still farther back picket ropes and artillerymen's bonfires. To the +left, not far from the farthest cannon, was a small, newly constructed +wattle shed from which came the sound of officers' voices in eager +conversation. + +It was true that a view over nearly the whole Russian position and +the greater part of the enemy's opened out from this battery. Just +facing it, on the crest of the opposite hill, the village of Schon +Grabern could be seen, and in three places to left and right the +French troops amid the smoke of their campfires, the greater part of +whom were evidently in the village itself and behind the hill. To +the left from that village, amid the smoke, was something resembling a +battery, but it was impossible to see it clearly with the naked eye. +Our right flank was posted on a rather steep incline which dominated +the French position. Our infantry were stationed there, and at the +farthest point the dragoons. In the center, where Tushin's battery +stood and from which Prince Andrew was surveying the position, was the +easiest and most direct descent and ascent to the brook separating +us from Schon Grabern. On the left our troops were close to a copse, +in which smoked the bonfires of our infantry who were felling wood. +The French line was wider than ours, and it was plain that they +could easily outflank us on both sides. Behind our position was a +steep and deep dip, making it difficult for artillery and cavalry to +retire. Prince Andrew took out his notebook and, leaning on the +cannon, sketched a plan of the position. He made some notes on two +points, intending to mention them to Bagration. His idea was, first, +to concentrate all the artillery in the center, and secondly, to +withdraw the cavalry to the other side of the dip. Prince Andrew, +being always near the commander in chief, closely following the mass +movements and general orders, and constantly studying historical +accounts of battles, involuntarily pictured to himself the course of +events in the forthcoming action in broad outline. He imagined only +important possibilities: "If the enemy attacks the right flank," he +said to himself, "the Kiev grenadiers and the Podolsk chasseurs must +hold their position till reserves from the center come up. In that +case the dragoons could successfully make a flank counterattack. If +they attack our center we, having the center battery on this high +ground, shall withdraw the left flank under its cover, and retreat +to the dip by echelons." So he reasoned.... All the time he had been +beside the gun, he had heard the voices of the officers distinctly, +but as often happens had not understood a word of what they were +saying. Suddenly, however, he was struck by a voice coming from the +shed, and its tone was so sincere that he could not but listen. + +"No, friend," said a pleasant and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, +a familiar voice, "what I say is that if it were possible to know what +is beyond death, none of us would be afraid of it. That's so, friend." + +Another, a younger voice, interrupted him: "Afraid or not, you can't +escape it anyhow." + +"All the same, one is afraid! Oh, you clever people," said a third +manly voice interrupting them both. "Of course you artillery men are +very wise, because you can take everything along with you--vodka and +snacks." + +And the owner of the manly voice, evidently an infantry officer, +laughed. + +"Yes, one is afraid," continued the first speaker, he of the +familiar voice. "One is afraid of the unknown, that's what it is. +Whatever we may say about the soul going to the sky... we know there +is no sky but only an atmosphere." + +The manly voice again interrupted the artillery officer. + +"Well, stand us some of your herb vodka, Tushin," it said. + +"Why," thought Prince Andrew, "that's the captain who stood up in +the sutler's hut without his boots." He recognized the agreeable, +philosophizing voice with pleasure. + +"Some herb vodka? Certainly!" said Tushin. "But still, to conceive a +future life..." + +He did not finish. Just then there was a whistle in the air; +nearer and nearer, faster and louder, louder and faster, a cannon +ball, as if it had not finished saying what was necessary, thudded +into the ground near the shed with super human force, throwing up a +mass of earth. The ground seemed to groan at the terrible impact. + +And immediately Tushin, with a short pipe in the corner of his mouth +and his kind, intelligent face rather pale, rushed out of the shed +followed by the owner of the manly voice, a dashing infantry officer +who hurried off to his company, buttoning up his coat as he ran. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Mounting his horse again Prince Andrew lingered with the battery, +looking at the puff from the gun that had sent the ball. His eyes +ran rapidly over the wide space, but he only saw that the hitherto +motionless masses of the French now swayed and that there really was a +battery to their left. The smoke above it had not yet dispersed. Two +mounted Frenchmen, probably adjutants, were galloping up the hill. A +small but distinctly visible enemy column was moving down the hill, +probably to strengthen the front line. The smoke of the first shot had +not yet dispersed before another puff appeared, followed by a +report. The battle had begun! Prince Andrew turned his horse and +galloped back to Grunth to find Prince Bagration. He heard the +cannonade behind him growing louder and more frequent. Evidently our +guns had begun to reply. From the bottom of the slope, where the +parleys had taken place, came the report of musketry. + +Lemarrois had just arrived at a gallop with Bonaparte's stern +letter, and Murat, humiliated and anxious to expiate his fault, had at +once moved his forces to attack the center and outflank both the +Russian wings, hoping before evening and before the arrival of the +Emperor to crush the contemptible detachment that stood before him. + +"It has begun. Here it is!" thought Prince Andrew, feeling the blood +rush to his heart. "But where and how will my Toulon present itself?" + +Passing between the companies that had been eating porridge and +drinking vodka a quarter of an hour before, he saw everywhere the same +rapid movement of soldiers forming ranks and getting their muskets +ready, and on all their faces he recognized the same eagerness that +filled his heart. "It has begun! Here it is, dreadful but +enjoyable!" was what the face of each soldier and each officer +seemed to say. + +Before he had reached the embankments that were being thrown up, +he saw, in the light of the dull autumn evening, mounted men coming +toward him. The foremost, wearing a Cossack cloak and lambskin cap and +riding a white horse, was Prince Bagration. Prince Andrew stopped, +waiting for him to come up; Prince Bagration reined in his horse and +recognizing Prince Andrew nodded to him. He still looked ahead while +Prince Andrew told him what he had seen. + +The feeling, "It has begun! Here it is!" was seen even on Prince +Bagration's hard brown face with its half-closed, dull, sleepy eyes. +Prince Andrew gazed with anxious curiosity at that impassive face +and wished he could tell what, if anything, this man was thinking +and feeling at that moment. "Is there anything at all behind that +impassive face?" Prince Andrew asked himself as he looked. Prince +Bagration bent his head in sign of agreement with what Prince Andrew +told him, and said, "Very good!" in a tone that seemed to imply that +everything that took place and was reported to him was exactly what he +had foreseen. Prince Andrew, out of breath with his rapid ride, +spoke quickly. Prince Bagration, uttering his words with an Oriental +accent, spoke particularly slowly, as if to impress the fact that +there was no need to hurry. However, he put his horse to a trot in the +direction of Tushin's battery. Prince Andrew followed with the +suite. Behind Prince Bagration rode an officer of the suite, the +prince's personal adjutant, Zherkov, an orderly officer, the staff +officer on duty, riding a fine bobtailed horse, and a civilian--an +accountant who had asked permission to be present at the battle out of +curiosity. The accountant, a stout, full-faced man, looked around +him with a naive smile of satisfaction and presented a strange +appearance among the hussars, Cossacks, and adjutants, in his camlet +coat, as he jolted on his horse with a convoy officer's saddle. + +"He wants to see a battle," said Zherkov to Bolkonski, pointing to +the accountant, "but he feels a pain in the pit of his stomach +already." + +"Oh, leave off!" said the accountant with a beaming but rather +cunning smile, as if flattered at being made the subject of +Zherkov's joke, and purposely trying to appear stupider than he really +was. + +"It is very strange, mon Monsieur Prince," said the staff officer. +(He remembered that in French there is some peculiar way of addressing +a prince, but could not get it quite right.) + +By this time they were all approaching Tushin's battery, and a +ball struck the ground in front of them. + +"What's that that has fallen?" asked the accountant with a naive +smile. + +"A French pancake," answered Zherkov. + +"So that's what they hit with?" asked the accountant. "How awful!" + +He seemed to swell with satisfaction. He had hardly finished +speaking when they again heard an unexpectedly violent whistling which +suddenly ended with a thud into something soft... f-f-flop! and a +Cossack, riding a little to their right and behind the accountant, +crashed to earth with his horse. Zherkov and the staff officer bent +over their saddles and turned their horses away. The accountant +stopped, facing the Cossack, and examined him with attentive +curiosity. The Cossack was dead, but the horse still struggled. + +Prince Bagration screwed up his eyes, looked round, and, seeing +the cause of the confusion, turned away with indifference, as if to +say, "Is it worth while noticing trifles?" He reined in his horse with +the case of a skillful rider and, slightly bending over, disengaged +his saber which had caught in his cloak. It was an old-fashioned saber +of a kind no longer in general use. Prince Andrew remembered the story +of Suvorov giving his saber to Bagration in Italy, and the +recollection was particularly pleasant at that moment. They had +reached the battery at which Prince Andrew had been when he examined +the battlefield. + +"Whose company?" asked Prince Bagration of an artilleryman +standing by the ammunition wagon. + +He asked, "Whose company?" but he really meant, "Are you +frightened here?" and the artilleryman understood him. + +"Captain Tushin's, your excellency!" shouted the red-haired, +freckled gunner in a merry voice, standing to attention. + +"Yes, yes," muttered Bagration as if considering something, and he +rode past the limbers to the farthest cannon. + +As he approached, a ringing shot issued from it deafening him and +his suite, and in the smoke that suddenly surrounded the gun they +could see the gunners who had seized it straining to roll it quickly +back to its former position. A huge, broad-shouldered gunner, Number +One, holding a mop, his legs far apart, sprang to the wheel; while +Number Two with a trembling hand placed a charge in the cannon's +mouth. The short, round-shouldered Captain Tushin, stumbling over +the tail of the gun carriage, moved forward and, not noticing the +general, looked out shading his eyes with his small hand. + +"Lift it two lines more and it will be just right," cried he in a +feeble voice to which he tried to impart a dashing note, ill suited to +his weak figure. "Number Two!" he squeaked. "Fire, Medvedev!" + +Bagration called to him, and Tushin, raising three fingers to his +cap with a bashful and awkward gesture not at all like a military +salute but like a priest's benediction, approached the general. Though +Tushin's guns had been intended to cannonade the valley, he was firing +incendiary balls at the village of Schon Grabern visible just +opposite, in front of which large masses of French were advancing. + +No one had given Tushin orders where and at what to fire, but +after consulting his sergeant major, Zakharchenko, for whom he had +great respect, he had decided that it would be a good thing to set +fire to the village. "Very good!" said Bagration in reply to the +officer's report, and began deliberately to examine the whole +battlefield extended before him. The French had advanced nearest on +our right. Below the height on which the Kiev regiment was +stationed, in the hollow where the rivulet flowed, the soul-stirring +rolling and crackling of musketry was heard, and much farther to the +right beyond the dragoons, the officer of the suite pointed out to +Bagration a French column that was outflanking us. To the left the +horizon bounded by the adjacent wood. Prince Bagration ordered two +battalions from the center to be sent to reinforce the right flank. +The officer of the suite ventured to remark to the prince that if +these battalions went away, the guns would remain without support. +Prince Bagration turned to the officer and with his dull eyes looked +at him in silence. It seemed to Prince Andrew that the officer's +remark was just and that really no answer could be made to it. But +at that moment an adjutant galloped up with a message from the +commander of the regiment in the hollow and news that immense masses +of the French were coming down upon them and that his regiment was +in disorder and was retreating upon the Kiev grenadiers. Prince +Bagration bowed his head in sign of assent and approval. He rode off +at a walk to the right and sent an adjutant to the dragoons with +orders to attack the French. But this adjutant returned half an hour +later with the news that the commander of the dragoons had already +retreated beyond the dip in the ground, as a heavy fire had been +opened on him and he was losing men uselessly, and so had hastened +to throw some sharpshooters into the wood. + +"Very good!" said Bagration. + +As he was leaving the battery, firing was heard on the left also, +and as it was too far to the left flank for him to have time to go +there himself, Prince Bagration sent Zherkov to tell the general in +command (the one who had paraded his regiment before Kutuzov at +Braunau) that he must retreat as quickly as possible behind the hollow +in the rear, as the right flank would probably not be able to +withstand the enemy's attack very long. About Tushin and the battalion +that had been in support of his battery all was forgotten. Prince +Andrew listened attentively to Bagration's colloquies with the +commanding officers and the orders he gave them and, to his +surprise, found that no orders were really given, but that Prince +Bagration tried to make it appear that everything done by necessity, +by accident, or by the will of subordinate commanders was done, if not +by his direct command, at least in accord with his intentions. +Prince Andrew noticed, however, that though what happened was due to +chance and was independent of the commander's will, owing to the +tact Bagration showed, his presence was very valuable. Officers who +approached him with disturbed countenances became calm; soldiers and +officers greeted him gaily, grew more cheerful in his presence, and +were evidently anxious to display their courage before him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Prince Bagration, having reached the highest point of our right +flank, began riding downhill to where the roll of musketry was heard +but where on account of the smoke nothing could be seen. The nearer +they got to the hollow the less they could see but the more they +felt the nearness of the actual battlefield. They began to meet +wounded men. One with a bleeding head and no cap was being dragged +along by two soldiers who supported him under the arms. There was a +gurgle in his throat and he was spitting blood. A bullet had evidently +hit him in the throat or mouth. Another was walking sturdily by +himself but without his musket, groaning aloud and swinging his arm +which had just been hurt, while blood from it was streaming over his +greatcoat as from a bottle. He had that moment been wounded and his +face showed fear rather than suffering. Crossing a road they descended +a steep incline and saw several men lying on the ground; they also met +a crowd of soldiers some of whom were unwounded. The soldiers were +ascending the hill breathing heavily, and despite the general's +presence were talking loudly and gesticulating. In front of them +rows of gray cloaks were already visible through the smoke, and an +officer catching sight of Bagration rushed shouting after the crowd of +retreating soldiers, ordering them back. Bagration rode up to the +ranks along which shots crackled now here and now there, drowning +the sound of voices and the shouts of command. The whole air reeked +with smoke. The excited faces of the soldiers were blackened with +it. Some were using their ramrods, others putting powder on the +touchpans or taking charges from their pouches, while others were +firing, though who they were firing at could not be seen for the smoke +which there was no wind to carry away. A pleasant humming and +whistling of bullets were often heard. "What is this?" thought +Prince Andrew approaching the crowd of soldiers. "It can't be an +attack, for they are not moving; it can't be a square--for they are +not drawn up for that." + +The commander of the regiment, a thin, feeble-looking old man with a +pleasant smile--his eyelids drooping more than half over his old eyes, +giving him a mild expression, rode up to Bagration and welcomed him as +a host welcomes an honored guest. He reported that his regiment had +been attacked by French cavalry and that, though the attack had been +repulsed, he had lost more than half his men. He said the attack had +been repulsed, employing this military term to describe what had +occurred to his regiment, but in reality he did not himself know +what had happened during that half-hour to the troops entrusted to +him, and could not say with certainty whether the attack had been +repulsed or his regiment had been broken up. All he knew was that at +the commencement of the action balls and shells began flying all +over his regiment and hitting men and that afterwards someone had +shouted "Cavalry!" and our men had begun firing. They were still +firing, not at the cavalry which had disappeared, but at French +infantry who had come into the hollow and were firing at our men. +Prince Bagration bowed his head as a sign that this was exactly what +he had desired and expected. Turning to his adjutant he ordered him to +bring down the two battalions of the Sixth Chasseurs whom they had +just passed. Prince Andrew was struck by the changed expression on +Prince Bagration's face at this moment. It expressed the +concentrated and happy resolution you see on the face of a man who +on a hot day takes a final run before plunging into the water. The +dull, sleepy expression was no longer there, nor the affectation of +profound thought. The round, steady, hawk's eyes looked before him +eagerly and rather disdainfully, not resting on anything although +his movements were still slow and measured. + +The commander of the regiment turned to Prince Bagration, entreating +him to go back as it was too dangerous to remain where they were. +"Please, your excellency, for God's sake!" he kept saying, glancing +for support at an officer of the suite who turned away from him. +"There, you see!" and he drew attention to the bullets whistling, +singing, and hissing continually around them. He spoke in the tone +of entreaty and reproach that a carpenter uses to a gentleman who +has picked up an ax: "We are used to it, but you, sir, will blister +your hands." He spoke as if those bullets could not kill him, and +his half-closed eyes gave still more persuasiveness to his words. +The staff officer joined in the colonel's appeals, but Bagration did +not reply; he only gave an order to cease firing and re-form, so as to +give room for the two approaching battalions. While he was speaking, +the curtain of smoke that had concealed the hollow, driven by a rising +wind, began to move from right to left as if drawn by an invisible +hand, and the hill opposite, with the French moving about on it, +opened out before them. All eyes fastened involuntarily on this French +column advancing against them and winding down over the uneven ground. +One could already see the soldiers' shaggy caps, distinguish the +officers from the men, and see the standard flapping against its +staff. + +"They march splendidly," remarked someone in Bagration's suite. + +The head of the column had already descended into the hollow. The +clash would take place on this side of it... + +The remains of our regiment which had been in action rapidly +formed up and moved to the right; from behind it, dispersing the +laggards, came two battalions of the Sixth Chasseurs in fine order. +Before they had reached Bagration, the weighty tread of the mass of +men marching in step could be heard. On their left flank, nearest to +Bagration, marched a company commander, a fine round-faced man, with a +stupid and happy expression--the same man who had rushed out of the +wattle shed. At that moment he was clearly thinking of nothing but how +dashing a fellow he would appear as he passed the commander. + +With the self-satisfaction of a man on parade, he stepped lightly +with his muscular legs as if sailing along, stretching himself to +his full height without the smallest effort, his ease contrasting with +the heavy tread of the soldiers who were keeping step with him. He +carried close to his leg a narrow unsheathed sword (small, curved, and +not like a real weapon) and looked now at the superior officers and +now back at the men without losing step, his whole powerful body +turning flexibly. It was as if all the powers of his soul were +concentrated on passing the commander in the best possible manner, and +feeling that he was doing it well he was happy. "Left... left... +left..." he seemed to repeat to himself at each alternate step; and in +time to this, with stern but varied faces, the wall of soldiers +burdened with knapsacks and muskets marched in step, and each one of +these hundreds of soldiers seemed to be repeating to himself at each +alternate step, "Left... left... left..." A fat major skirted a +bush, puffing and falling out of step; a soldier who had fallen +behind, his face showing alarm at his defection, ran at a trot, +panting to catch up with his company. A cannon ball, cleaving the air, +flew over the heads of Bagration and his suite, and fell into the +column to the measure of "Left... left!" "Close up!" came the +company commander's voice in jaunty tones. The soldiers passed in a +semicircle round something where the ball had fallen, and an old +trooper on the flank, a noncommissioned officer who had stopped beside +the dead men, ran to catch up his line and, falling into step with a +hop, looked back angrily, and through the ominous silence and the +regular tramp of feet beating the ground in unison, one seemed to hear +left... left... left. + +"Well done, lads!" said Prince Bagration. + +"Glad to do our best, your ex'len-lency!" came a confused shout from +the ranks. A morose soldier marching on the left turned his eyes on +Bagration as he shouted, with an expression that seemed to say: "We +know that ourselves!" Another, without looking round, as though +fearing to relax, shouted with his mouth wide open and passed on. + +The order was given to halt and down knapsacks. + +Bagration rode round the ranks that had marched past him and +dismounted. He gave the reins to a Cossack, took off and handed over +his felt coat, stretched his legs, and set his cap straight. The +head of the French column, with its officers leading, appeared from +below the hill. + +"Forward, with God!" said Bagration, in a resolute, sonorous +voice, turning for a moment to the front line, and slightly swinging +his arms, he went forward uneasily over the rough field with the +awkward gait of a cavalryman. Prince Andrew felt that an invisible +power was leading him forward, and experienced great happiness. + +The French were already near. Prince Andrew, walking beside +Bagration, could clearly distinguish their bandoliers, red epaulets, +and even their faces. (He distinctly saw an old French officer who, +with gaitered legs and turned-out toes, climbed the hill with +difficulty.) Prince Bagration gave no further orders and silently +continued to walk on in front of the ranks. Suddenly one shot after +another rang out from the French, smoke appeared all along their +uneven ranks, and musket shots sounded. Several of our men fell, among +them the round-faced officer who had marched so gaily and +complacently. But at the moment the first report was heard, +Bagration looked round and shouted, "Hurrah!" + +"Hurrah--ah!--ah!" rang a long-drawn shout from our ranks, and +passing Bagration and racing one another they rushed in an irregular +but joyous and eager crowd down the hill at their disordered foe. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +The attack of the Sixth Chasseurs secured the retreat of our right +flank. In the center Tushin's forgotten battery, which had managed +to set fire to the Schon Grabern village, delayed the French +advance. The French were putting out the fire which the wind was +spreading, and thus gave us time to retreat. The retirement of the +center to the other side of the dip in the ground at the rear was +hurried and noisy, but the different companies did not get mixed. +But our left--which consisted of the Azov and Podolsk infantry and the +Pavlograd hussars--was simultaneously attacked and outflanked by +superior French forces under Lannes and was thrown into confusion. +Bagration had sent Zherkov to the general commanding that left flank +with orders to retreat immediately. + +Zherkov, not removing his hand from his cap, turned his horse +about and galloped off. But no sooner had he left Bagration than his +courage failed him. He was seized by panic and could not go where it +was dangerous. + +Having reached the left flank, instead of going to the front where +the firing was, he began to look for the general and his staff where +they could not possibly be, and so did not deliver the order. + +The command of the left flank belonged by seniority to the commander +of the regiment Kutuzov had reviewed at Braunau and in which +Dolokhov was serving as a private. But the command of the extreme left +flank had been assigned to the commander of the Pavlograd regiment +in which Rostov was serving, and a misunderstanding arose. The two +commanders were much exasperated with one another and, long after +the action had begun on the right flank and the French were already +advancing, were engaged in discussion with the sole object of +offending one another. But the regiments, both cavalry and infantry, +were by no means ready for the impending action. From privates to +general they were not expecting a battle and were engaged in +peaceful occupations, the cavalry feeding the horses and the +infantry collecting wood. + +"He higher iss dan I in rank," said the German colonel of the +hussars, flushing and addressing an adjutant who had ridden up, "so +let him do what he vill, but I cannot sacrifice my hussars... +Bugler, sount ze retreat!" + +But haste was becoming imperative. Cannon and musketry, mingling +together, thundered on the right and in the center, while the +capotes of Lannes' sharpshooters were already seen crossing the +milldam and forming up within twice the range of a musket shot. The +general in command of the infantry went toward his horse with jerky +steps, and having mounted drew himself up very straight and tall and +rode to the Pavlograd commander. The commanders met with polite bows +but with secret malevolence in their hearts. + +"Once again, Colonel," said the general, "I can't leave half my +men in the wood. I beg of you, I beg of you," he repeated, "to +occupy the position and prepare for an attack." + +"I peg of you yourself not to mix in vot is not your business!" +suddenly replied the irate colonel. "If you vere in the cavalry..." + +"I am not in the cavalry, Colonel, but I am a Russian general and if +you are not aware of the fact..." + +"Quite avare, your excellency," suddenly shouted the colonel, +touching his horse and turning purple in the face. "Vill you be so +goot to come to ze front and see dat zis position iss no goot? I don't +vish to destroy my men for your pleasure!" + +"You forget yourself, Colonel. I am not considering my own +pleasure and I won't allow it to be said!" + +Taking the colonel's outburst as a challenge to his courage, the +general expanded his chest and rode, frowning, beside him to the front +line, as if their differences would be settled there amongst the +bullets. They reached the front, several bullets sped over them, and +they halted in silence. There was nothing fresh to be seen from the +line, for from where they had been before it had been evident that +it was impossible for cavalry to act among the bushes and broken +ground, as well as that the French were outflanking our left. The +general and colonel looked sternly and significantly at one another +like two fighting cocks preparing for battle, each vainly trying to +detect signs of cowardice in the other. Both passed the examination +successfully. As there was nothing to be said, and neither wished to give +occasion for it to be alleged that he had been the first to leave +the range of fire, they would have remained there for a long time +testing each other's courage had it not been that just then they heard +the rattle of musketry and a muffled shout almost behind them in the +wood. The French had attacked the men collecting wood in the copse. It +was no longer possible for the hussars to retreat with the infantry. +They were cut off from the line of retreat on the left by the +French. However inconvenient the position, it was now necessary to +attack in order to cut away through for themselves. + +The squadron in which Rostov was serving had scarcely time to mount +before it was halted facing the enemy. Again, as at the Enns bridge, +there was nothing between the squadron and the enemy, and again that +terrible dividing line of uncertainty and fear--resembling the line +separating the living from the dead--lay between them. All were +conscious of this unseen line, and the question whether they would +cross it or not, and how they would cross it, agitated them all. + +The colonel rode to the front, angrily gave some reply to +questions put to him by the officers, and, like a man desperately +insisting on having his own way, gave an order. No one said anything +definite, but the rumor of an attack spread through the squadron. +The command to form up rang out and the sabers whizzed as they were +drawn from their scabbards. Still no one moved. The troops of the left +flank, infantry and hussars alike, felt that the commander did not +himself know what to do, and this irresolution communicated itself +to the men. + +"If only they would be quick!" thought Rostov, feeling that at +last the time had come to experience the joy of an attack of which +he had so often heard from his fellow hussars. + +"Fo'ward, with God, lads!" rang out Denisov's voice. "At a twot +fo'ward!" + +The horses' croups began to sway in the front line. Rook pulled at +the reins and started of his own accord. + +Before him, on the right, Rostov saw the front lines of his +hussars and still farther ahead a dark line which he could not see +distinctly but took to be the enemy. Shots could be heard, but some +way off. + +"Faster!" came the word of command, and Rostov felt Rook's flanks +drooping as he broke into a gallop. + +Rostov anticipated his horse's movements and became more and more +elated. He had noticed a solitary tree ahead of him. This tree had +been in the middle of the line that had seemed so terrible--and now he +had crossed that line and not only was there nothing terrible, but +everything was becoming more and more happy and animated. "Oh, how I +will slash at him!" thought Rostov, gripping the hilt of his saber. + +"Hur-a-a-a-ah!" came a roar of voices. "Let anyone come my way now," +thought Rostov driving his spurs into Rook and letting him go at a +full gallop so that he outstripped the others. Ahead, the enemy was +already visible. Suddenly something like a birch broom seemed to sweep +over the squadron. Rostov raised his saber, ready to strike, but at +that instant the trooper Nikitenko, who was galloping ahead, shot away +from him, and Rostov felt as in a dream that he continued to be +carried forward with unnatural speed but yet stayed on the same +spot. From behind him Bondarchuk, an hussar he knew, jolted against +him and looked angrily at him. Bondarchuk's horse swerved and galloped +past. + +"How is it I am not moving? I have fallen, I am killed!" Rostov +asked and answered at the same instant. He was alone in the middle +of a field. Instead of the moving horses and hussars' backs, he saw +nothing before him but the motionless earth and the stubble around +him. There was warm blood under his arm. "No, I am wounded and the +horse is killed." Rook tried to rise on his forelegs but fell back, +pinning his rider's leg. Blood was flowing from his head; he struggled +but could not rise. Rostov also tried to rise but fell back, his +sabretache having become entangled in the saddle. Where our men +were, and where the French, he did not know. There was no one near. + +Having disentangled his leg, he rose. "Where, on which side, was now +the line that had so sharply divided the two armies?" he asked himself +and could not answer. "Can something bad have happened to me?" he +wondered as he got up: and at that moment he felt that something +superfluous was hanging on his benumbed left arm. The wrist felt as if +it were not his. He examined his hand carefully, vainly trying to find +blood on it. "Ah, here are people coming," he thought joyfully, seeing +some men running toward him. "They will help me!" In front came a +man wearing a strange shako and a blue cloak, swarthy, sunburned, +and with a hooked nose. Then came two more, and many more running +behind. One of them said something strange, not in Russian. In among +the hindmost of these men wearing similar shakos was a Russian hussar. +He was being held by the arms and his horse was being led behind him. + +"It must be one of ours, a prisoner. Yes. Can it be that they will +take me too? Who are these men?" thought Rostov, scarcely believing +his eyes. "Can they be French?" He looked at the approaching +Frenchmen, and though but a moment before he had been galloping to get +at them and hack them to pieces, their proximity now seemed so awful +that he could not believe his eyes. "Who are they? Why are they +running? Can they be coming at me? And why? To kill me? Me whom +everyone is so fond of?" He remembered his mother's love for him, +and his family's, and his friends', and the enemy's intention to +kill him seemed impossible. "But perhaps they may do it!" For more +than ten seconds he stood not moving from the spot or realizing the +situation. The foremost Frenchman, the one with the hooked nose, was +already so close that the expression of his face could be seen. And +the excited, alien face of that man, his bayonet hanging down, holding +his breath, and running so lightly, frightened Rostov. He seized his +pistol and, instead of firing it, flung it at the Frenchman and ran +with all his might toward the bushes. He did not now run with the +feeling of doubt and conflict with which he had trodden the Enns +bridge, but with the feeling of a hare fleeing from the hounds. One +single sentiment, that of fear for his young and happy life, possessed +his whole being. Rapidly leaping the furrows, he fled across the field +with the impetuosity he used to show at catchplay, now and then +turning his good-natured, pale, young face to look back. A shudder +of terror went through him: "No, better not look," he thought, but +having reached the bushes he glanced round once more. The French had +fallen behind, and just as he looked round the first man changed his +run to a walk and, turning, shouted something loudly to a comrade +farther back. Rostov paused. "No, there's some mistake," thought he. +"They can't have wanted to kill me." But at the same time, his left +arm felt as heavy as if a seventy-pound weight were tied to it. He +could run no more. The Frenchman also stopped and took aim. Rostov +closed his eyes and stooped down. One bullet and then another whistled +past him. He mustered his last remaining strength, took hold of his +left hand with his right, and reached the bushes. Behind these were +some Russian sharpshooters. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +The infantry regiments that had been caught unawares in the +outskirts of the wood ran out of it, the different companies getting +mixed, and retreated as a disorderly crowd. One soldier, in his +fear, uttered the senseless cry, "Cut off!" that is so terrible in +battle, and that word infected the whole crowd with a feeling of +panic. + +"Surrounded! Cut off? We're lost!" shouted the fugitives. + +The moment he heard the firing and the cry from behind, the +general realized that something dreadful had happened to his regiment, +and the thought that he, an exemplary officer of many years' service +who had never been to blame, might be held responsible at headquarters +for negligence or inefficiency so staggered him that, forgetting the +recalcitrant cavalry colonel, his own dignity as a general, and +above all quite forgetting the danger and all regard for +self-preservation, he clutched the crupper of his saddle and, spurring +his horse, galloped to the regiment under a hail of bullets which fell +around, but fortunately missed him. His one desire was to know what +was happening and at any cost correct, or remedy, the mistake if he +had made one, so that he, an exemplary officer of twenty-two years' +service, who had never been censured, should not be held to blame. + +Having galloped safely through the French, he reached a field behind +the copse across which our men, regardless of orders, were running and +descending the valley. That moment of moral hesitation which decides +the fate of battles had arrived. Would this disorderly crowd of +soldiers attend to the voice of their commander, or would they, +disregarding him, continue their flight? Despite his desperate +shouts that used to seem so terrible to the soldiers, despite his +furious purple countenance distorted out of all likeness to his former +self, and the flourishing of his saber, the soldiers all continued +to run, talking, firing into the air, and disobeying orders. The moral +hesitation which decided the fate of battles was evidently culminating +in a panic. + +The general had a fit of coughing as a result of shouting and of the +powder smoke and stopped in despair. Everything seemed lost. But at +that moment the French who were attacking, suddenly and without any +apparent reason, ran back and disappeared from the outskirts, and +Russian sharpshooters showed themselves in the copse. It was +Timokhin's company, which alone had maintained its order in the wood +and, having lain in ambush in a ditch, now attacked the French +unexpectedly. Timokhin, armed only with a sword, had rushed at the +enemy with such a desperate cry and such mad, drunken determination +that, taken by surprise, the French had thrown down their muskets +and run. Dolokhov, running beside Timokhin, killed a Frenchman at +close quarters and was the first to seize the surrendering French +officer by his collar. Our fugitives returned, the battalions +re-formed, and the French who had nearly cut our left flank in half +were for the moment repulsed. Our reserve units were able to join +up, and the fight was at an end. The regimental commander and Major +Ekonomov had stopped beside a bridge, letting the retreating companies +pass by them, when a soldier came up and took hold of the +commander's stirrup, almost leaning against him. The man was wearing a +bluish coat of broadcloth, he had no knapsack or cap, his head was +bandaged, and over his shoulder a French munition pouch was slung. +He had an officer's sword in his hand. The soldier was pale, his +blue eyes looked impudently into the commander's face, and his lips +were smiling. Though the commander was occupied in giving instructions +to Major Ekonomov, he could not help taking notice of the soldier. + +"Your excellency, here are two trophies," said Dolokhov, pointing to +the French sword and pouch. "I have taken an officer prisoner. I +stopped the company." Dolokhov breathed heavily from weariness and +spoke in abrupt sentences. "The whole company can bear witness. I +beg you will remember this, your excellency!" + +"All right, all right," replied the commander, and turned to Major +Ekonomov. + +But Dolokhov did not go away; he untied the handkerchief around +his head, pulled it off, and showed the blood congealed on his hair. + +"A bayonet wound. I remained at the front. Remember, your +excellency!" + + +Tushin's battery had been forgotten and only at the very end of the +action did Prince Bagration, still hearing the cannonade in the +center, send his orderly staff officer, and later Prince Andrew also, +to order the battery to retire as quickly as possible. When the +supports attached to Tushin's battery had been moved away in the +middle of the action by someone's order, the battery had continued +firing and was only not captured by the French because the enemy could +not surmise that anyone could have the effrontery to continue firing +from four quite undefended guns. On the contrary, the energetic action +of that battery led the French to suppose that here--in the +center--the main Russian forces were concentrated. Twice they had +attempted to attack this point, but on each occasion had been driven +back by grapeshot from the four isolated guns on the hillock. + +Soon after Prince Bagration had left him, Tushin had succeeded in +setting fire to Schon Grabern. + +"Look at them scurrying! It's burning! Just see the smoke! Fine! +Grand! Look at the smoke, the smoke!" exclaimed the artillerymen, +brightening up. + +All the guns, without waiting for orders, were being fired in the +direction of the conflagration. As if urging each other on, the +soldiers cried at each shot: "Fine! That's good! Look at it... Grand!" +The fire, fanned by the breeze, was rapidly spreading. The French +columns that had advanced beyond the village went back; but as +though in revenge for this failure, the enemy placed ten guns to the +right of the village and began firing them at Tushin's battery. + +In their childlike glee, aroused by the fire and their luck in +successfully cannonading the French, our artillerymen only noticed +this battery when two balls, and then four more, fell among our +guns, one knocking over two horses and another tearing off a +munition-wagon driver's leg. Their spirits once roused were, +however, not diminished, but only changed character. The horses were +replaced by others from a reserve gun carriage, the wounded were +carried away, and the four guns were turned against the ten-gun +battery. Tushin's companion officer had been killed at the beginning +of the engagement and within an hour seventeen of the forty men of the +guns' crews had been disabled, but the artillerymen were still as +merry and lively as ever. Twice they noticed the French appearing +below them, and then they fired grapeshot at them. + +Little Tushin, moving feebly and awkwardly, kept telling his orderly +to "refill my pipe for that one!" and then, scattering sparks from it, +ran forward shading his eyes with his small hand to look at the +French. + +"Smack at 'em, lads!" he kept saying, seizing the guns by the wheels +and working the screws himself. + +Amid the smoke, deafened by the incessant reports which always +made him jump, Tushin not taking his pipe from his mouth ran from +gun to gun, now aiming, now counting the charges, now giving orders +about replacing dead or wounded horses and harnessing fresh ones, +and shouting in his feeble voice, so high pitched and irresolute. +His face grew more and more animated. Only when a man was killed or +wounded did he frown and turn away from the sight, shouting angrily at +the men who, as is always the case, hesitated about lifting the +injured or dead. The soldiers, for the most part handsome fellows and, +as is always the case in an artillery company, a head and shoulders +taller and twice as broad as their officer--all looked at their +commander like children in an embarrassing situation, and the +expression on his face was invariably reflected on theirs. + +Owing to the terrible uproar and the necessity for concentration and +activity, Tushin did not experience the slightest unpleasant sense +of fear, and the thought that he might be killed or badly wounded +never occurred to him. On the contrary, he became more and more +elated. It seemed to him that it was a very long time ago, almost a +day, since he had first seen the enemy and fired the first shot, and +that the corner of the field he stood on was well-known and familiar +ground. Though he thought of everything, considered everything, and +did everything the best of officers could do in his position, he was +in a state akin to feverish delirium or drunkenness. + +From the deafening sounds of his own guns around him, the whistle +and thud of the enemy's cannon balls, from the flushed and +perspiring faces of the crew bustling round the guns, from the sight +of the blood of men and horses, from the little puffs of smoke on +the enemy's side (always followed by a ball flying past and striking +the earth, a man, a gun, a horse), from the sight of all these +things a fantastic world of his own had taken possession of his +brain and at that moment afforded him pleasure. The enemy's guns +were in his fancy not guns but pipes from which occasional puffs +were blown by an invisible smoker. + +"There... he's puffing again," muttered Tushin to himself, as a +small cloud rose from the hill and was borne in a streak to the left +by the wind. + +"Now look out for the ball... we'll throw it back." + +"What do you want, your honor?" asked an artilleryman, standing +close by, who heard him muttering. + +"Nothing... only a shell..." he answered. + +"Come along, our Matvevna!" he said to himself. "Matvevna"* was +the name his fancy gave to the farthest gun of the battery, which +was large and of an old pattern. The French swarming round their +guns seemed to him like ants. In that world, the handsome drunkard +Number One of the second gun's crew was "uncle"; Tushin looked at +him more often than at anyone else and took delight in his every +movement. The sound of musketry at the foot of the hill, now +diminishing, now increasing, seemed like someone's breathing. He +listened intently to the ebb and flow of these sounds. + + +*Daughter of Matthew. + + +"Ah! Breathing again, breathing!" he muttered to himself. + +He imagined himself as an enormously tall, powerful man who was +throwing cannon balls at the French with both hands. + +"Now then, Matvevna, dear old lady, don't let me down!" he was +saying as he moved from the gun, when a strange, unfamiliar voice +called above his head: "Captain Tushin! Captain!" + +Tushin turned round in dismay. It was the staff officer who had +turned him out of the booth at Grunth. He was shouting in a gasping +voice: + +"Are you mad? You have twice been ordered to retreat, and you..." + +"Why are they down on me?" thought Tushin, looking in alarm at his +superior. + +"I... don't..." he muttered, holding up two fingers to his cap. +"I..." + +But the staff officer did not finish what he wanted to say. A cannon +ball, flying close to him, caused him to duck and bend over his horse. +He paused, and just as he was about to say something more, another +ball stopped him. He turned his horse and galloped off. + +"Retire! All to retire!" he shouted from a distance. + +The soldiers laughed. A moment later, an adjutant arrived with the +same order. + +It was Prince Andrew. The first thing he saw on riding up to the +space where Tushin's guns were stationed was an unharnessed horse with +a broken leg, that lay screaming piteously beside the harnessed +horses. Blood was gushing from its leg as from a spring. Among the +limbers lay several dead men. One ball after another passed over as he +approached and he felt a nervous shudder run down his spine. But the +mere thought of being afraid roused him again. "I cannot be afraid," +thought he, and dismounted slowly among the guns. He delivered the +order and did not leave the battery. He decided to have the guns +removed from their positions and withdrawn in his presence. Together +with Tushin, stepping across the bodies and under a terrible fire from +the French, he attended to the removal of the guns. + +"A staff officer was here a minute ago, but skipped off," said an +artilleryman to Prince Andrew. "Not like your honor!" + +Prince Andrew said nothing to Tushin. They were both so busy as to +seem not to notice one another. When having limbered up the only two +cannon that remained uninjured out of the four, they began moving down +the hill (one shattered gun and one unicorn were left behind), +Prince Andrew rode up to Tushin. + +"Well, till we meet again..." he said, holding out his hand to +Tushin. + +"Good-by, my dear fellow," said Tushin. "Dear soul! Good-by, my dear +fellow!" and for some unknown reason tears suddenly filled his eyes. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The wind had fallen and black clouds, merging with the powder smoke, +hung low over the field of battle on the horizon. It was growing +dark and the glow of two conflagrations was the more conspicuous. +The cannonade was dying down, but the rattle of musketry behind and on +the right sounded oftener and nearer. As soon as Tushin with his guns, +continually driving round or coming upon wounded men, was out of range +of fire and had descended into the dip, he was met by some of the +staff, among them the staff officer and Zherkov, who had been twice +sent to Tushin's battery but had never reached it. Interrupting one +another, they all gave, and transmitted, orders as to how to +proceed, reprimanding and reproaching him. Tushin gave no orders, and, +silently--fearing to speak because at every word he felt ready to weep +without knowing why--rode behind on his artillery nag. Though the +orders were to abandon the wounded, many of them dragged themselves +after troops and begged for seats on the gun carriages. The jaunty +infantry officer who just before the battle had rushed out of Tushin's +wattle shed was laid, with a bullet in his stomach, on "Matvevna's" +carriage. At the foot of the hill, a pale hussar cadet, supporting one +hand with the other, came up to Tushin and asked for a seat. + +"Captain, for God's sake! I've hurt my arm," he said timidly. "For +God's sake... I can't walk. For God's sake!" + +It was plain that this cadet had already repeatedly asked for a lift +and been refused. He asked in a hesitating, piteous voice. + +"Tell them to give me a seat, for God's sake!" + +"Give him a seat," said Tushin. "Lay a cloak for him to sit on, +lad," he said, addressing his favorite soldier. "And where is the +wounded officer?" + +"He has been set down. He died," replied someone. + +"Help him up. Sit down, dear fellow, sit down! Spread out the cloak, +Antonov." + +The cadet was Rostov. With one hand he supported the other; he was +pale and his jaw trembled, shivering feverishly. He was placed on +"Matvevna," the gun from which they had removed the dead officer. +The cloak they spread under him was wet with blood which stained his +breeches and arm. + +"What, are you wounded, my lad?" said Tushin, approaching the gun on +which Rostov sat. + +"No, it's a sprain." + +"Then what is this blood on the gun carriage?" inquired Tushin. + +"It was the officer, your honor, stained it," answered the +artilleryman, wiping away the blood with his coat sleeve, as if +apologizing for the state of his gun. + +It was all that they could do to get the guns up the rise aided by +the infantry, and having reached the village of Gruntersdorf they +halted. It had grown so dark that one could not distinguish the +uniforms ten paces off, and the firing had begun to subside. Suddenly, +near by on the right, shouting and firing were again heard. Flashes of +shot gleamed in the darkness. This was the last French attack and +was met by soldiers who had sheltered in the village houses. They +all rushed out of the village again, but Tushin's guns could not move, +and the artillerymen, Tushin, and the cadet exchanged silent glances +as they awaited their fate. The firing died down and soldiers, talking +eagerly, streamed out of a side street. + +"Not hurt, Petrov?" asked one. + +"We've given it 'em hot, mate! They won't make another push now," +said another. + +"You couldn't see a thing. How they shot at their own fellows! +Nothing could be seen. Pitch-dark, brother! Isn't there something to +drink?" + +The French had been repulsed for the last time. And again and +again in the complete darkness Tushin's guns moved forward, surrounded +by the humming infantry as by a frame. + +In the darkness, it seemed as though a gloomy unseen river was +flowing always in one direction, humming with whispers and talk and +the sound of hoofs and wheels. Amid the general rumble, the groans and +voices of the wounded were more distinctly heard than any other +sound in the darkness of the night. The gloom that enveloped the +army was filled with their groans, which seemed to melt into one +with the darkness of the night. After a while the moving mass became +agitated, someone rode past on a white horse followed by his suite, +and said something in passing: "What did he say? Where to, now? +Halt, is it? Did he thank us?" came eager questions from all sides. +The whole moving mass began pressing closer together and a report +spread that they were ordered to halt: evidently those in front had +halted. All remained where they were in the middle of the muddy road. + +Fires were lighted and the talk became more audible. Captain Tushin, +having given orders to his company, sent a soldier to find a +dressing station or a doctor for the cadet, and sat down by a +bonfire the soldiers had kindled on the road. Rostov, too, dragged +himself to the fire. From pain, cold, and damp, a feverish shivering +shook his whole body. Drowsiness was irresistibly mastering him, but +he kept awake by an excruciating pain in his arm, for which +he could find no satisfactory position. He kept closing his eyes and +then again looking at the fire, which seemed to him dazzlingly red, +and at the feeble, round-shouldered figure of Tushin who was sitting +cross-legged like a Turk beside him. Tushin's large, kind, intelligent +eyes were fixed with sympathy and commiseration on Rostov, who saw +that Tushin with his whole heart wished to help him but could not. + +From all sides were heard the footsteps and talk of the infantry, +who were walking, driving past, and settling down all around. The +sound of voices, the tramping feet, the horses' hoofs moving in mud, +the crackling of wood fires near and afar, merged into one tremulous +rumble. + +It was no longer, as before, a dark, unseen river flowing through +the gloom, but a dark sea swelling and gradually subsiding after a +storm. Rostov looked at and listened listlessly to what passed +before and around him. An infantryman came to the fire, squatted on +his heels, held his hands to the blaze, and turned away his face. + +"You don't mind your honor?" he asked Tushin. "I've lost my company, +your honor. I don't know where... such bad luck!" + +With the soldier, an infantry officer with a bandaged cheek came +up to the bonfire, and addressing Tushin asked him to have the guns +moved a trifle to let a wagon go past. After he had gone, two soldiers +rushed to the campfire. They were quarreling and fighting desperately, +each trying to snatch from the other a boot they were both holding +on to. + +"You picked it up?... I dare say! You're very smart!" one of them +shouted hoarsely. + +Then a thin, pale soldier, his neck bandaged with a bloodstained leg +band, came up and in angry tones asked the artillerymen for water. + +"Must one die like a dog?" said he. + +Tushin told them to give the man some water. Then a cheerful soldier +ran up, begging a little fire for the infantry. + +"A nice little hot torch for the infantry! Good luck to you, +fellow countrymen. Thanks for the fire--we'll return it with +interest," said he, carrying away into the darkness a glowing stick. + +Next came four soldiers, carrying something heavy on a cloak, and +passed by the fire. One of them stumbled. + +"Who the devil has put the logs on the road?" snarled he. + +"He's dead--why carry him?" said another. + +"Shut up!" + +And they disappeared into the darkness with their load. + +"Still aching?" Tushin asked Rostov in a whisper. + +"Yes." + +"Your honor, you're wanted by the general. He is in the hut here," +said a gunner, coming up to Tushin. + +"Coming, friend." + +Tushin rose and, buttoning his greatcoat and pulling it straight, +walked away from the fire. + +Not far from the artillery campfire, in a hut that had been prepared +for him, Prince Bagration sat at dinner, talking with some +commanding officers who had gathered at his quarters. The little old +man with the half-closed eyes was there greedily gnawing a mutton +bone, and the general who had served blamelessly for twenty-two years, +flushed by a glass of vodka and the dinner; and the staff officer with +the signet ring, and Zherkov, uneasily glancing at them all, and +Prince Andrew, pale, with compressed lips and feverishly glittering +eyes. + +In a corner of the hut stood a standard captured from the French, +and the accountant with the naive face was feeling its texture, +shaking his head in perplexity--perhaps because the banner really +interested him, perhaps because it was hard for him, hungry as he was, +to look on at a dinner where there was no place for him. In the next +hut there was a French colonel who had been taken prisoner by our +dragoons. Our officers were flocking in to look at him. Prince +Bagration was thanking the individual commanders and inquiring into +details of the action and our losses. The general whose regiment had +been inspected at Braunau was informing the prince that as soon as the +action began he had withdrawn from the wood, mustered the men who were +woodcutting, and, allowing the French to pass him, had made a +bayonet charge with two battalions and had broken up the French +troops. + +"When I saw, your excellency, that their first battalion was +disorganized, I stopped in the road and thought: 'I'll let them come +on and will meet them with the fire of the whole battalion'--and +that's what I did." + +The general had so wished to do this and was so sorry he had not +managed to do it that it seemed to him as if it had really happened. +Perhaps it might really have been so? Could one possibly make out amid +all that confusion what did or did not happen? + +"By the way, your excellency, I should inform you," he +continued--remembering Dolokhov's conversation with Kutuzov and his +last interview with the gentleman-ranker--"that Private Dolokhov, who +was reduced to the ranks, took a French officer prisoner in my +presence and particularly distinguished himself." + +"I saw the Pavlograd hussars attack there, your excellency," +chimed in Zherkov, looking uneasily around. He had not seen the +hussars all that day, but had heard about them from an infantry +officer. "They broke up two squares, your excellency." + +Several of those present smiled at Zherkov's words, expecting one of +his usual jokes, but noticing that what he was saying redounded to the +glory of our arms and of the day's work, they assumed a serious +expression, though many of them knew that what he was saying was a lie +devoid of any foundation. Prince Bagration turned to the old colonel: + +"Gentlemen, I thank you all; all arms have behaved heroically: +infantry, cavalry, and artillery. How was it that two guns were +abandoned in the center?" he inquired, searching with his eyes for +someone. (Prince Bagration did not ask about the guns on the left +flank; he knew that all the guns there had been abandoned at the +very beginning of the action.) "I think I sent you?" he added, turning +to the staff officer on duty. + +"One was damaged," answered the staff officer, "and the other I +can't understand. I was there all the time giving orders and had +only just left.... It is true that it was hot there," he added, +modestly. + +Someone mentioned that Captain Tushin was bivouacking close to the +village and had already been sent for. + +"Oh, but you were there?" said Prince Bagration, addressing Prince +Andrew. + +"Of course, we only just missed one another," said the staff +officer, with a smile to Bolkonski. + +"I had not the pleasure of seeing you," said Prince Andrew, coldly +and abruptly. + +All were silent. Tushin appeared at the threshold and made his way +timidly from behind the backs of the generals. As he stepped past +the generals in the crowded hut, feeling embarrassed as he always +was by the sight of his superiors, he did not notice the staff of +the banner and stumbled over it. Several of those present laughed. + +"How was it a gun was abandoned?" asked Bagration, frowning, not +so much at the captain as at those who were laughing, among whom +Zherkov laughed loudest. + +Only now, when he was confronted by the stern authorities, did his +guilt and the disgrace of having lost two guns and yet remaining alive +present themselves to Tushin in all their horror. He had been so +excited that he had not thought about it until that moment. The +officers' laughter confused him still more. He stood before +Bagration with his lower jaw trembling and was hardly able to +mutter: "I don't know... your excellency... I had no men... your +excellency." + +"You might have taken some from the covering troops." + +Tushin did not say that there were no covering troops, though that +was perfectly true. He was afraid of getting some other officer into +trouble, and silently fixed his eyes on Bagration as a schoolboy who +has blundered looks at an examiner. + +The silence lasted some time. Prince Bagration, apparently not +wishing to be severe, found nothing to say; the others did not venture +to intervene. Prince Andrew looked at Tushin from under his brows +and his fingers twitched nervously. + +"Your excellency!" Prince Andrew broke the silence with his abrupt +voice," you were pleased to send me to Captain Tushin's battery. I +went there and found two thirds of the men and horses knocked out, two +guns smashed, and no supports at all." + +Prince Bagration and Tushin looked with equal intentness at +Bolkonski, who spoke with suppressed agitation. + +"And, if your excellency will allow me to express my opinion," he +continued, "we owe today's success chiefly to the action of that +battery and the heroic endurance of Captain Tushin and his company," +and without awaiting a reply, Prince Andrew rose and left the table. + +Prince Bagration looked at Tushin, evidently reluctant to show +distrust in Bolkonski's emphatic opinion yet not feeling able fully to +credit it, bent his head, and told Tushin that he could go. Prince +Andrew went out with him. + +"Thank you; you saved me, my dear fellow!" said Tushin. + +Prince Andrew gave him a look, but said nothing and went away. He +felt sad and depressed. It was all so strange, so unlike what he had +hoped. + + +"Who are they? Why are they here? What do they want? And when will all +this end?" thought Rostov, looking at the changing shadows before him. +The pain in his arm became more and more intense. Irresistible +drowsiness overpowered him, red rings danced before his eyes, and the +impression of those voices and faces and a sense of loneliness merged +with the physical pain. It was they, these soldiers--wounded and +unwounded--it was they who were crushing, weighing down, and twisting +the sinews and scorching the flesh of his sprained arm and shoulder. +To rid himself of them he closed his eyes. + +For a moment he dozed, but in that short interval innumerable things +appeared to him in a dream: his mother and her large white hand, +Sonya's thin little shoulders, Natasha's eyes and laughter, Denisov +with his voice and mustache, and Telyanin and all that affair with +Telyanin and Bogdanich. That affair was the same thing as this soldier +with the harsh voice, and it was that affair and this soldier that +were so agonizingly, incessantly pulling and pressing his arm and +always dragging it in one direction. He tried to get away from them, +but they would not for an instant let his shoulder move a hair's +breadth. It would not ache--it would be well--if only they did not +pull it, but it was impossible to get rid of them. + +He opened his eyes and looked up. The black canopy of night hung +less than a yard above the glow of the charcoal. Flakes of falling +snow were fluttering in that light. Tushin had not returned, the +doctor had not come. He was alone now, except for a soldier who was +sitting naked at the other side of the fire, warming his thin yellow +body. + +"Nobody wants me!" thought Rostov. "There is no one to help me or +pity me. Yet I was once at home, strong, happy, and loved." He +sighed and, doing so, groaned involuntarily. + +"Eh, is anything hurting you?" asked the soldier, shaking his +shirt out over the fire, and not waiting for an answer he gave a grunt +and added: "What a lot of men have been crippled today--frightful!" + +Rostov did not listen to the soldier. He looked at the snowflakes +fluttering above the fire and remembered a Russian winter at his warm, +bright home, his fluffy fur coat, his quickly gliding sleigh, his +healthy body, and all the affection and care of his family. "And why +did I come here?" he wondered. + +Next day the French army did not renew their attack, and the remnant +of Bagration's detachment was reunited to Kutuzov's army. + + + + + +BOOK THREE: 1805 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Prince Vasili was not a man who deliberately thought out his +plans. Still less did he think of injuring anyone for his own +advantage. He was merely a man of the world who had got on and to whom +getting on had become a habit. Schemes and devices for which he +never rightly accounted to himself, but which formed the whole +interest of his life, were constantly shaping themselves in his +mind, arising from the circumstances and persons he met. Of these +plans he had not merely one or two in his head but dozens, some only +beginning to form themselves, some approaching achievement, and some +in course of disintegration. He did not, for instance, say to himself: +"This man now has influence, I must gain his confidence and friendship +and through him obtain a special grant." Nor did he say to himself: +"Pierre is a rich man, I must entice him to marry my daughter and lend +me the forty thousand rubles I need." But when he came across +a man of position his instinct immediately told him that this +man could be useful, and without any premeditation Prince Vasili +took the first opportunity to gain his confidence, flatter him, become +intimate with him, and finally make his request. + +He had Pierre at hand in Moscow and procured for him an +appointment as Gentleman of the Bedchamber, which at that time +conferred the status of Councilor of State, and insisted on the +young man accompanying him to Petersburg and staying at his house. +With apparent absent-mindedness, yet with unhesitating assurance +that he was doing the right thing, Prince Vasili did everything to get +Pierre to marry his daughter. Had he thought out his plans +beforehand he could not have been so natural and shown such unaffected +familiarity in intercourse with everybody both above and below him +in social standing. Something always drew him toward those richer +and more powerful than himself and he had rare skill in seizing the +most opportune moment for making use of people. + +Pierre, on unexpectedly becoming Count Bezukhov and a rich man, felt +himself after his recent loneliness and freedom from cares so beset +and preoccupied that only in bed was he able to be by himself. He +had to sign papers, to present himself at government offices, the +purpose of which was not clear to him, to question his chief +steward, to visit his estate near Moscow, and to receive many people +who formerly did not even wish to know of his existence but would +now have been offended and grieved had he chosen not to see them. +These different people--businessmen, relations, and acquaintances +alike--were all disposed to treat the young heir in the most +friendly and flattering manner: they were all evidently firmly +convinced of Pierre's noble qualities. He was always hearing such +words as: "With your remarkable kindness," or, "With your excellent +heart," "You are yourself so honorable Count," or, "Were he as +clever as you," and so on, till he began sincerely to believe in his +own exceptional kindness and extraordinary intelligence, the more so +as in the depth of his heart it had always seemed to him that he +really was very kind and intelligent. Even people who had formerly +been spiteful toward him and evidently unfriendly now became gentle +and affectionate. The angry eldest princess, with the long waist and +hair plastered down like a doll's, had come into Pierre's room after +the funeral. With drooping eyes and frequent blushes she told him +she was very sorry about their past misunderstandings and did not +now feel she had a right to ask him for anything, except only for +permission, after the blow she had received, to remain for a few weeks +longer in the house she so loved and where she had sacrificed so much. +She could not refrain from weeping at these words. Touched that this +statuesque princess could so change, Pierre took her hand and begged +her forgiveness, without knowing what for. From that day the eldest +princess quite changed toward Pierre and began knitting a striped +scarf for him. + +"Do this for my sake, mon cher; after all, she had to put up with +a great deal from the deceased," said Prince Vasili to him, handing +him a deed to sign for the princess' benefit. + +Prince Vasili had come to the conclusion that it was necessary to +throw this bone--a bill for thirty thousand rubles--to the poor +princess that it might not occur to her to speak of his share in the +affair of the inlaid portfolio. Pierre signed the deed and after +that the princess grew still kinder. The younger sisters also became +affectionate to him, especially the youngest, the pretty one with +the mole, who often made him feel confused by her smiles and her own +confusion when meeting him. + +It seemed so natural to Pierre that everyone should like him, and it +would have seemed so unnatural had anyone disliked him, that he +could not but believe in the sincerity of those around him. Besides, +he had no time to ask himself whether these people were sincere or +not. He was always busy and always felt in a state of mild and +cheerful intoxication. He felt as though he were the center of some +important and general movement; that something was constantly expected +of him, that if he did not do it he would grieve and disappoint many +people, but if he did this and that, all would be well; and he did +what was demanded of him, but still that happy result always +remained in the future. + +More than anyone else, Prince Vasili took possession of Pierre's +affairs and of Pierre himself in those early days. From the death of +Count Bezukhov he did not let go his hold of the lad. He had the air +of a man oppressed by business, weary and suffering, who yet would +not, for pity's sake, leave this helpless youth who, after all, was +the son of his old friend and the possessor of such enormous wealth, +to the caprice of fate and the designs of rogues. During the few +days he spent in Moscow after the death of Count Bezukhov, he would +call Pierre, or go to him himself, and tell him what ought to be +done in a tone of weariness and assurance, as if he were adding +every time: "You know I am overwhelmed with business and it is +purely out of charity that I trouble myself about you, and you also +know quite well that what I propose is the only thing possible." + +"Well, my dear fellow, tomorrow we are off at last," said Prince +Vasili one day, closing his eyes and fingering Pierre's elbow, +speaking as if he were saying something which had long since been +agreed upon and could not now be altered. "We start tomorrow and I'm +giving you a place in my carriage. I am very glad. All our important +business here is now settled, and I ought to have been off long ago. +Here is something I have received from the chancellor. I asked him for +you, and you have been entered in the diplomatic corps and made a +Gentleman of the Bedchamber. The diplomatic career now lies open +before you." + +Notwithstanding the tone of wearied assurance with which these words +were pronounced, Pierre, who had so long been considering his +career, wished to make some suggestion. But Prince Vasili +interrupted him in the special deep cooing tone, precluding the +possibility of interrupting his speech, which he used in extreme cases +when special persuasion was needed. + +"Mais, mon cher, I did this for my own sake, to satisfy my +conscience, and there is nothing to thank me for. No one has ever +complained yet of being too much loved; and besides, you are free, you +could throw it up tomorrow. But you will see everything for yourself +when you get to Petersburg. It is high time for you to get away from +these terrible recollections." Prince Vasili sighed. "Yes, yes, my +boy. And my valet can go in your carriage. Ah! I was nearly +forgetting," he added. "You know, mon cher, your father and I had some +accounts to settle, so I have received what was due from the Ryazan +estate and will keep it; you won't require it. We'll go into the +accounts later." + +By "what was due from the Ryazan estate" Prince Vasili meant several +thousand rubles quitrent received from Pierre's peasants, which the +prince had retained for himself. + +In Petersburg, as in Moscow, Pierre found the same atmosphere of +gentleness and affection. He could not refuse the post, or rather +the rank (for he did nothing), that Prince Vasili had procured for +him, and acquaintances, invitations, and social occupations were so +numerous that, even more than in Moscow, he felt a sense of +bewilderment, bustle, and continual expectation of some good, always +in front of him but never attained. + +Of his former bachelor acquaintances many were no longer in +Petersburg. The Guards had gone to the front; Dolokhov had been +reduced to the ranks; Anatole was in the army somewhere in the +provinces; Prince Andrew was abroad; so Pierre had not the opportunity +to spend his nights as he used to like to spend them, or to open his +mind by intimate talks with a friend older than himself and whom he +respected. His whole time was taken up with dinners and balls and +was spent chiefly at Prince Vasili's house in the company of the stout +princess, his wife, and his beautiful daughter Helene. + +Like the others, Anna Pavlovna Scherer showed Pierre the change of +attitude toward him that had taken place in society. + +Formerly in Anna Pavlovna's presence, Pierre had always felt that +what he was saying was out of place, tactless and unsuitable, that +remarks which seemed to him clever while they formed in his mind +became foolish as soon as he uttered them, while on the contrary +Hippolyte's stupidest remarks came out clever and apt. Now +everything Pierre said was charmant. Even if Anna Pavlovna did not say +so, he could see that she wished to and only refrained out of regard +for his modesty. + +In the beginning of the winter of 1805-6 Pierre received one of Anna +Pavlovna's usual pink notes with an invitation to which was added: +"You will find the beautiful Helene here, whom it is always delightful +to see." + +When he read that sentence, Pierre felt for the first time that some +link which other people recognized had grown up between himself and +Helene, and that thought both alarmed him, as if some obligation +were being imposed on him which he could not fulfill, and pleased +him as an entertaining supposition. + +Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" was like the former one, only the +novelty she offered her guests this time was not Mortemart, but a +diplomatist fresh from Berlin with the very latest details of the +Emperor Alexander's visit to Potsdam, and of how the two august +friends had pledged themselves in an indissoluble alliance to uphold +the cause of justice against the enemy of the human race. Anna +Pavlovna received Pierre with a shade of melancholy, evidently +relating to the young man's recent loss by the death of Count Bezukhov +(everyone constantly considered it a duty to assure Pierre that he was +greatly afflicted by the death of the father he had hardly known), and +her melancholy was just like the august melancholy she showed at the +mention of her most august Majesty the Empress Marya Fedorovna. Pierre +felt flattered by this. Anna Pavlovna arranged the different groups in +her drawing room with her habitual skill. The large group, in which +were Prince Vasili and the generals, had the benefit of the +diplomat. Another group was at the tea table. Pierre wished to join +the former, but Anna Pavlovna--who was in the excited condition of a +commander on a battlefield to whom thousands of new and brilliant +ideas occur which there is hardly time to put in action--seeing +Pierre, touched his sleeve with her finger, saying: + +"Wait a bit, I have something in view for you this evening." (She +glanced at Helene and smiled at her.) "My dear Helene, be charitable +to my poor aunt who adores you. Go and keep her company for ten +minutes. And that it will not be too dull, here is the dear count +who will not refuse to accompany you." + +The beauty went to the aunt, but Anna Pavlovna detained Pierre, +looking as if she had to give some final necessary instructions. + +"Isn't she exquisite?" she said to Pierre, pointing to the stately +beauty as she glided away. "And how she carries herself! For so +young a girl, such tact, such masterly perfection of manner! It +comes from her heart. Happy the man who wins her! With her the least +worldly of men would occupy a most brilliant position in society. +Don't you think so? I only wanted to know your opinion," and Anna +Pavlovna let Pierre go. + +Pierre, in reply, sincerely agreed with her as to Helene's +perfection of manner. If he ever thought of Helene, it was just of her +beauty and her remarkable skill in appearing silently dignified in +society. + +The old aunt received the two young people in her corner, but seemed +desirous of hiding her adoration for Helene and inclined rather to +show her fear of Anna Pavlovna. She looked at her niece, as if +inquiring what she was to do with these people. On leaving them, +Anna Pavlovna again touched Pierre's sleeve, saying: "I hope you won't +say that it is dull in my house again," and she glanced at Helene. + +Helene smiled, with a look implying that she did not admit the +possibility of anyone seeing her without being enchanted. The aunt +coughed, swallowed, and said in French that she was very pleased to +see Helene, then she turned to Pierre with the same words of welcome +and the same look. In the middle of a dull and halting conversation, +Helene turned to Pierre with the beautiful bright smile that she +gave to everyone. Pierre was so used to that smile, and it had so +little meaning for him, that he paid no attention to it. The aunt +was just speaking of a collection of snuffboxes that had belonged to +Pierre's father, Count Bezukhov, and showed them her own box. Princess +Helene asked to see the portrait of the aunt's husband on the box lid. + +"That is probably the work of Vinesse," said Pierre, mentioning a +celebrated miniaturist, and he leaned over the table to take the +snuffbox while trying to hear what was being said at the other table. + +He half rose, meaning to go round, but the aunt handed him the +snuffbox, passing it across Helene's back. Helene stooped forward to +make room, and looked round with a smile. She was, as always at +evening parties, wearing a dress such as was then fashionable, cut +very low at front and back. Her bust, which had always seemed like +marble to Pierre, was so close to him that his shortsighted eyes could +not but perceive the living charm of her neck and shoulders, so near +to his lips that he need only have bent his head a little to have +touched them. He was conscious of the warmth of her body, the scent of +perfume, and the creaking of her corset as she moved. He did not see +her marble beauty forming a complete whole with her dress, but all the +charm of her body only covered by her garments. And having once seen +this he could not help being aware of it, just as we cannot renew an +illusion we have once seen through. + +"So you have never noticed before how beautiful I am?" Helene seemed +to say. "You had not noticed that I am a woman? Yes, I am a woman +who may belong to anyone--to you too," said her glance. And at that +moment Pierre felt that Helene not only could, but must, be his +wife, and that it could not be otherwise. + +He knew this at that moment as surely as if he had been standing +at the altar with her. How and when this would be he did not know, +he did not even know if it would be a good thing (he even felt, he +knew not why, that it would be a bad thing), but he knew it would +happen. + +Pierre dropped his eyes, lifted them again, and wished once more +to see her as a distant beauty far removed from him, as he had seen +her every day until then, but he could no longer do it. He could +not, any more than a man who has been looking at a tuft of steppe +grass through the mist and taking it for a tree can again take it +for a tree after he has once recognized it to be a tuft of grass. +She was terribly close to him. She already had power over him, and +between them there was no longer any barrier except the barrier of his +own will. + +"Well, I will leave you in your little corner," came Anna Pavlovna's +voice, "I see you are all right there." + +And Pierre, anxiously trying to remember whether he had done +anything reprehensible, looked round with a blush. It seemed to him +that everyone knew what had happened to him as he knew it himself. + +A little later when he went up to the large circle, Anna Pavlovna +said to him: "I hear you are refitting your Petersburg house?" + +This was true. The architect had told him that it was necessary, and +Pierre, without knowing why, was having his enormous Petersburg +house done up. + +"That's a good thing, but don't move from Prince Vasili's. It is +good to have a friend like the prince," she said, smiling at Prince +Vasili. "I know something about that. Don't I? And you are still so +young. You need advice. Don't be angry with me for exercising an old +woman's privilege." + +She paused, as women always do, expecting something after they +have mentioned their age. "If you marry it will be a different thing," +she continued, uniting them both in one glance. Pierre did not look at +Helene nor she at him. But she was just as terribly close to him. He +muttered something and colored. + +When he got home he could not sleep for a long time for thinking +of what had happened. What had happened? Nothing. He had merely +understood that the woman he had known as a child, of whom when her +beauty was mentioned he had said absent-mindedly: "Yes, she's good +looking," he had understood that this woman might belong to him. + +"But she's stupid. I have myself said she is stupid," he thought. +"There is something nasty, something wrong, in the feeling she excites +in me. I have been told that her brother Anatole was in love with +her and she with him, that there was quite a scandal and that that's +why he was sent away. Hippolyte is her brother... Prince Vasili is her +father... It's bad...." he reflected, but while he was thinking this +(the reflection was still incomplete), he caught himself smiling and +was conscious that another line of thought had sprung up, and while +thinking of her worthlessness he was also dreaming of how she would be +his wife, how she would love him become quite different, and how all +he had thought and heard of her might be false. And he again saw her +not as the daughter of Prince Vasili, but visualized her whole body +only veiled by its gray dress. "But no! Why did this thought never +occur to me before?" and again he told himself that it was impossible, +that there would be something unnatural, and as it seemed to him +dishonorable, in this marriage. He recalled her former words and looks +and the words and looks of those who had seen them together. He +recalled Anna Pavlovna's words and looks when she spoke to him about +his house, recalled thousands of such hints from Prince Vasili and +others, and was seized by terror lest he had already, in some way, +bound himself to do something that was evidently wrong and that he +ought not to do. But at the very time he was expressing this +conviction to himself, in another part of his mind her image rose in +all its womanly beauty. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +In November, 1805, Prince Vasili had to go on a tour of inspection +in four different provinces. He had arranged this for himself so as to +visit his neglected estates at the same time and pick up his son +Anatole where his regiment was stationed, and take him to visit Prince +Nicholas Bolkonski in order to arrange a match for him with the +daughter of that rich old man. But before leaving home and undertaking +these new affairs, Prince Vasili had to settle matters with Pierre, +who, it is true, had latterly spent whole days at home, that is, in +Prince Vasili's house where he was staying, and had been absurd, +excited, and foolish in Helene's presence (as a lover should be), +but had not yet proposed to her. + +"This is all very fine, but things must be settled," said Prince +Vasili to himself, with a sorrowful sigh, one morning, feeling that +Pierre who was under such obligations to him ("But never mind that") +was not behaving very well in this matter. "Youth, frivolity... well, +God be with him," thought he, relishing his own goodness of heart, +"but it must be brought to a head. The day after tomorrow will be +Lelya's name day. I will invite two or three people, and if he does +not understand what he ought to do then it will be my affair--yes, my +affair. I am her father." + +Six weeks after Anna Pavlovna's "At Home" and after the sleepless +night when he had decided that to marry Helene would be a calamity and +that he ought to avoid her and go away, Pierre, despite that decision, +had not left Prince Vasili's and felt with terror that in people's +eyes he was every day more and more connected with her, that it was +impossible for him to return to his former conception of her, that +he could not break away from her, and that though it would be a +terrible thing he would have to unite his fate with hers. He might +perhaps have been able to free himself but that Prince Vasili (who had +rarely before given receptions) now hardly let a day go by without +having an evening party at which Pierre had to be present unless he +wished to spoil the general pleasure and disappoint everyone's +expectation. Prince Vasili, in the rare moments when he was at home, +would take Pierre's hand in passing and draw it downwards, or +absent-mindedly hold out his wrinkled, clean-shaven cheek for Pierre +to kiss and would say: "Till tomorrow," or, "Be in to dinner or I +shall not see you," or, "I am staying in for your sake," and so on. +And though Prince Vasili, when he stayed in (as he said) for +Pierre's sake, hardly exchanged a couple of words with him, Pierre +felt unable to disappoint him. Every day he said to himself one and +the same thing: "It is time I understood her and made up my mind +what she really is. Was I mistaken before, or am I mistaken now? No, +she is not stupid, she is an excellent girl," he sometimes said to +himself "she never makes a mistake, never says anything stupid. She +says little, but what she does say is always clear and simple, so +she is not stupid. She never was abashed and is not abashed now, so +she cannot be a bad woman!" He had often begun to make reflections +or think aloud in her company, and she had always answered him +either by a brief but appropriate remark--showing that it did not +interest her--or by a silent look and smile which more palpably than +anything else showed Pierre her superiority. She was right in +regarding all arguments as nonsense in comparison with that smile. + +She always addressed him with a radiantly confiding smile meant +for him alone, in which there was something more significant than in +the general smile that usually brightened her face. Pierre knew that +everyone was waiting for him to say a word and cross a certain line, +and he knew that sooner or later he would step across it, but an +incomprehensible terror seized him at the thought of that dreadful +step. A thousand times during that month and a half while he felt +himself drawn nearer and nearer to that dreadful abyss, Pierre said to +himself: "What am I doing? I need resolution. Can it be that I have +none?" + +He wished to take a decision, but felt with dismay that in this +matter he lacked that strength of will which he had known in himself +and really possessed. Pierre was one of those who are only strong when +they feel themselves quite innocent, and since that day when he was +overpowered by a feeling of desire while stooping over the snuffbox at +Anna Pavlovna's, an unacknowledged sense of the guilt of that desire +paralyzed his will. + +On Helene's name day, a small party of just their own people--as his +wife said--met for supper at Prince Vasili's. All these friends and +relations had been given to understand that the fate of the young girl +would be decided that evening. The visitors were seated at supper. +Princess Kuragina, a portly imposing woman who had once been handsome, +was sitting at the head of the table. On either side of her sat the +more important guests--an old general and his wife, and Anna +Pavlovna Scherer. At the other end sat the younger and less +important guests, and there too sat the members of the family, and +Pierre and Helene, side by side. Prince Vasili was not having any +supper: he went round the table in a merry mood, sitting down now by +one, now by another, of the guests. To each of them he made some +careless and agreeable remark except to Pierre and Helene, whose +presence he seemed not to notice. He enlivened the whole party. The +wax candles burned brightly, the silver and crystal gleamed, so did +the ladies' toilets and the gold and silver of the men's epaulets; +servants in scarlet liveries moved round the table, the clatter of +plates, knives, and glasses mingled with the animated hum of several +conversations. At one end of the table, the old chamberlain was +heard assuring an old baroness that he loved her passionately, at +which she laughed; at the other could be heard the story of the +misfortunes of some Mary Viktorovna or other. At the center of the +table, Prince Vasili attracted everybody's attention. With a facetious +smile on his face, he was telling the ladies about last Wednesday's +meeting of the Imperial Council, at which Sergey Kuzmich +Vyazmitinov, the new military governor general of Petersburg, had +received and read the then famous rescript of the Emperor Alexander +from the army to Sergey Kuzmich, in which the Emperor said that he was +receiving from all sides declarations of the people's loyalty, that +the declaration from Petersburg gave him particular pleasure, and that +he was proud to be at the head of such a nation and would endeavor +to be worthy of it. This rescript began with the words: "Sergey +Kuzmich, From all sides reports reach me," etc. + +"Well, and so he never got farther than: 'Sergey Kuzmich'?" asked +one of the ladies. + +"Exactly, not a hair's breadth farther," answered Prince Vasili, +laughing, "'Sergey Kuzmich... From all sides... From all sides... +Sergey Kuzmich...' Poor Vyazmitinov could not get any farther! He +began the rescript again and again, but as soon as he uttered 'Sergey' +he sobbed, 'Kuz-mi-ch,' tears, and 'From all sides' was smothered in +sobs and he could get no farther. And again his handkerchief, and +again: 'Sergey Kuzmich, From all sides,'... and tears, till at last +somebody else was asked to read it." + +"Kuzmich... From all sides... and then tears," someone repeated +laughing. + +"Don't be unkind," cried Anna Pavlovna from her end of the table +holding up a threatening finger. "He is such a worthy and excellent +man, our dear Vyazmitinov...." + +Everybody laughed a great deal. At the head of the table, where +the honored guests sat, everyone seemed to be in high spirits and +under the influence of a variety of exciting sensations. Only Pierre +and Helene sat silently side by side almost at the bottom of the +table, a suppressed smile brightening both their faces, a smile that +had nothing to do with Sergey Kuzmich--a smile of bashfulness at their +own feelings. But much as all the rest laughed, talked, and joked, +much as they enjoyed their Rhine wine, saute, and ices, and however +they avoided looking at the young couple, and heedless and unobservant +as they seemed of them, one could feel by the occasional glances +they gave that the story about Sergey Kuzmich, the laughter, and the +food were all a pretense, and that the whole attention of that company +was directed to--Pierre and Helene. Prince Vasili mimicked the sobbing +of Sergey Kuzmich and at the same time his eyes glanced toward his +daughter, and while he laughed the expression on his face clearly +said: "Yes... it's getting on, it will all be settled today." Anna +Pavlovna threatened him on behalf of "our dear Vyazmitinov," and in +her eyes, which, for an instant, glanced at Pierre, Prince Vasili read +a congratulation on his future son-in-law and on his daughter's +happiness. The old princess sighed sadly as she offered some wine to +the old lady next to her and glanced angrily at her daughter, and +her sigh seemed to say: "Yes, there's nothing left for you and me +but to sip sweet wine, my dear, now that the time has come for these +young ones to be thus boldly, provocatively happy." "And what nonsense +all this is that I am saying!" thought a diplomatist, glancing at +the happy faces of the lovers. "That's happiness!" + +Into the insignificant, trifling, and artificial interests uniting +that society had entered the simple feeling of the attraction of a +healthy and handsome young man and woman for one another. And this +human feeling dominated everything else and soared above all their +affected chatter. Jests fell flat, news was not interesting, and the +animation was evidently forced. Not only the guests but even the +footmen waiting at table seemed to feel this, and they forgot their +duties as they looked at the beautiful Helene with her radiant face +and at the red, broad, and happy though uneasy face of Pierre. It +seemed as if the very light of the candles was focused on those two +happy faces alone. + +Pierre felt that he was the center of it all, and this both pleased +and embarrassed him. He was like a man entirely absorbed in some +occupation. He did not see, hear, or understand anything clearly. Only +now and then detached ideas and impressions from the world of +reality shot unexpectedly through his mind. + +"So it is all finished!" he thought. "And how has it all happened? +How quickly! Now I know that not because of her alone, nor of myself +alone, but because of everyone, it must inevitably come about. They +are all expecting it, they are so sure that it will happen that I +cannot, I cannot, disappoint them. But how will it be? I do not +know, but it will certainly happen!" thought Pierre, glancing at those +dazzling shoulders close to his eyes. + +Or he would suddenly feel ashamed of he knew not what. He felt it +awkward to attract everyone's attention and to be considered a lucky +man and, with his plain face, to be looked on as a sort of Paris +possessed of a Helen. "But no doubt it always is and must be so!" he +consoled himself. "And besides, what have I done to bring it about? +How did it begin? I traveled from Moscow with Prince Vasili. Then +there was nothing. So why should I not stay at his house? Then I +played cards with her and picked up her reticule and drove out with +her. How did it begin, when did it all come about?" And here he was +sitting by her side as her betrothed, seeing, hearing, feeling her +nearness, her breathing, her movements, her beauty. Then it would +suddenly seem to him that it was not she but he was so unusually +beautiful, and that that was why they all looked so at him, and +flattered by this general admiration he would expand his chest, +raise his head, and rejoice at his good fortune. Suddenly he heard a +familiar voice repeating something to him a second time. But Pierre +was so absorbed that he did not understand what was said. + +"I am asking you when you last heard from Bolkonski," repeated +Prince Vasili a third time. "How absent-minded you are, my dear +fellow." + +Prince Vasili smiled, and Pierre noticed that everyone was smiling +at him and Helene. "Well, what of it, if you all know it?" thought +Pierre. "What of it? It's the truth!" and he himself smiled his gentle +childlike smile, and Helene smiled too. + +"When did you get the letter? Was it from Olmutz?" repeated Prince +Vasili, who pretended to want to know this in order to settle a +dispute. + +"How can one talk or think of such trifles?" thought Pierre. + +"Yes, from Olmutz," he answered, with a sigh. + +After supper Pierre with his partner followed the others into the +drawing room. The guests began to disperse, some without taking +leave of Helene. Some, as if unwilling to distract her from an +important occupation, came up to her for a moment and made haste to go +away, refusing to let her see them off. The diplomatist preserved a +mournful silence as he left the drawing room. He pictured the vanity +of his diplomatic career in comparison with Pierre's happiness. The +old general grumbled at his wife when she asked how his leg was. +"Oh, the old fool," he thought. "That Princess Helene will be +beautiful still when she's fifty." + +"I think I may congratulate you," whispered Anna Pavlovna to the old +princess, kissing her soundly. "If I hadn't this headache I'd have +stayed longer." + +The old princess did not reply, she was tormented by jealousy of her +daughter's happiness. + +While the guests were taking their leave Pierre remained for a +long time alone with Helene in the little drawing room where they were +sitting. He had often before, during the last six weeks, remained +alone with her, but had never spoken to her of love. Now he felt +that it was inevitable, but he could not make up his mind to take +the final step. He felt ashamed; he felt that he was occupying someone +else's place here beside Helene. "This happiness is not for you," some +inner voice whispered to him. "This happiness is for those who have +not in them what there is in you." + +But, as he had to say something, he began by asking her whether +she was satisfied with the party. She replied in her usual simple +manner that this name day of hers had been one of the pleasantest +she had ever had. + +Some of the nearest relatives had not yet left. They were sitting in +the large drawing room. Prince Vasili came up to Pierre with languid +footsteps. Pierre rose and said it was getting late. Prince Vasili +gave him a look of stern inquiry, as though what Pierre had just +said was so strange that one could not take it in. But then the +expression of severity changed, and he drew Pierre's hand downwards, +made him sit down, and smiled affectionately. + +"Well, Lelya?" he asked, turning instantly to his daughter and +addressing her with the careless tone of habitual tenderness natural +to parents who have petted their children from babyhood, but which +Prince Vasili had only acquired by imitating other parents. + +And he again turned to Pierre. + +"Sergey Kuzmich--From all sides-" he said, unbuttoning the top +button of his waistcoat. + +Pierre smiled, but his smile showed that he knew it was not the +story about Sergey Kuzmich that interested Prince Vasili just then, +and Prince Vasili saw that Pierre knew this. He suddenly muttered +something and went away. It seemed to Pierre that even the prince +was disconcerted. The sight of the discomposure of that old man of the +world touched Pierre: he looked at Helene and she too seemed +disconcerted, and her look seemed to say: "Well, it is your own +fault." + +"The step must be taken but I cannot, I cannot!" thought Pierre, and +he again began speaking about indifferent matters, about Sergey +Kuzmich, asking what the point of the story was as he had not heard it +properly. Helene answered with a smile that she too had missed it. + +When Prince Vasili returned to the drawing room, the princess, his +wife, was talking in low tones to the elderly lady about Pierre. + +"Of course, it is a very brilliant match, but happiness, my dear..." + +"Marriages are made in heaven," replied the elderly lady. + +Prince Vasili passed by, seeming not to hear the ladies, and sat +down on a sofa in a far corner of the room. He closed his eyes and +seemed to be dozing. His head sank forward and then he roused himself. + +"Aline," he said to his wife, "go and see what they are about." + +The princess went up to the door, passed by it with a dignified +and indifferent air, and glanced into the little drawing room. +Pierre and Helene still sat talking just as before. + +"Still the same," she said to her husband. + +Prince Vasili frowned, twisting his mouth, his cheeks quivered and +his face assumed the coarse, unpleasant expression peculiar to him. +Shaking himself, he rose, threw back his head, and with resolute steps +went past the ladies into the little drawing room. With quick steps he +went joyfully up to Pierre. His face was so unusually triumphant +that Pierre rose in alarm on seeing it. + +"Thank God!" said Prince Vasili. "My wife has told me everything!" +(He put one arm around Pierre and the other around his daughter.)--"My +dear boy... Lelya... I am very pleased." (His voice trembled.) "I +loved your father... and she will make you a good wife... God bless +you!..." + +He embraced his daughter, and then again Pierre, and kissed him with +his malodorous mouth. Tears actually moistened his cheeks. + +"Princess, come here!" he shouted. + +The old princess came in and also wept. The elderly lady was using +her handkerchief too. Pierre was kissed, and he kissed the beautiful +Helene's hand several times. After a while they were left alone again. + +"All this had to be and could not be otherwise," thought Pierre, "so +it is useless to ask whether it is good or bad. It is good because +it's definite and one is rid of the old tormenting doubt." Pierre held +the hand of his betrothed in silence, looking at her beautiful bosom +as it rose and fell. + +"Helene!" he said aloud and paused. + +"Something special is always said in such cases," he thought, but +could not remember what it was that people say. He looked at her face. +She drew nearer to him. Her face flushed. + +"Oh, take those off... those..." she said, pointing to his +spectacles. + +Pierre took them off, and his eyes, besides the strange look eyes +have from which spectacles have just been removed, had also a +frightened and inquiring look. He was about to stoop over her hand and +kiss it, but with a rapid, almost brutal movement of her head, she +intercepted his lips and met them with her own. Her face struck +Pierre, by its altered, unpleasantly excited expression. + +"It is too late now, it's done; besides I love her," thought Pierre. + +"Je vous aime!"* he said, remembering what has to be said at such +moments: but his words sounded so weak that he felt ashamed of +himself. + + +*"I love you." + + +Six weeks later he was married, and settled in Count Bezukhov's +large, newly furnished Petersburg house, the happy possessor, as +people said, of a wife who was a celebrated beauty and of millions +of money. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Old Prince Nicholas Bolkonski received a letter from Prince Vasili +in November, 1805, announcing that he and his son would be paying +him a visit. "I am starting on a journey of inspection, and of +course I shall think nothing of an extra seventy miles to come and see +you at the same time, my honored benefactor," wrote Prince Vasili. "My +son Anatole is accompanying me on his way to the army, so I hope you +will allow him personally to express the deep respect that, +emulating his father, he feels for you." + +"It seems that there will be no need to bring Mary out, suitors +are coming to us of their own accord," incautiously remarked the +little princess on hearing the news. + +Prince Nicholas frowned, but said nothing. + +A fortnight after the letter Prince Vasili's servants came one +evening in advance of him, and he and his son arrived next day. + +Old Bolkonski had always had a poor opinion of Prince Vasili's +character, but more so recently, since in the new reigns of Paul and +Alexander Prince Vasili had risen to high position and honors. And +now, from the hints contained in his letter and given by the little +princess, he saw which way the wind was blowing, and his low opinion +changed into a feeling of contemptuous ill will. He snorted whenever +he mentioned him. On the day of Prince Vasili's arrival, Prince +Bolkonski was particularly discontented and out of temper. Whether +he was in a bad temper because Prince Vasili was coming, or whether +his being in a bad temper made him specially annoyed at Prince +Vasili's visit, he was in a bad temper, and in the morning Tikhon +had already advised the architect not to go to the prince with his +report. + +"Do you hear how he's walking?" said Tikhon, drawing the architect's +attention to the sound of the prince's footsteps. "Stepping flat on +his heels--we know what that means...." + +However, at nine o'clock the prince, in his velvet coat with a sable +collar and cap, went out for his usual walk. It had snowed the day +before and the path to the hothouse, along which the prince was in the +habit of walking, had been swept: the marks of the broom were still +visible in the snow and a shovel had been left sticking in one of +the soft snowbanks that bordered both sides of the path. The prince +went through the conservatories, the serfs' quarters, and the +outbuildings, frowning and silent. + +"Can a sleigh pass?" he asked his overseer, a venerable man, +resembling his master in manners and looks, who was accompanying him +back to the house. + +"The snow is deep. I am having the avenue swept, your honor." + +The prince bowed his head and went up to the porch. "God be +thanked," thought the overseer, "the storm has blown over!" + +"It would have been hard to drive up, your honor," he added. "I +heard, your honor, that a minister is coming to visit your honor." + +The prince turned round to the overseer and fixed his eyes on him, +frowning. + +"What? A minister? What minister? Who gave orders?" he said in his +shrill, harsh voice. "The road is not swept for the princess my +daughter, but for a minister! For me, there are no ministers!" + +"Your honor, I thought..." + +"You thought!" shouted the prince, his words coming more and more +rapidly and indistinctly. "You thought!... Rascals! Blackguards!... +I'll teach you to think!" and lifting his stick he swung it and +would have hit Alpatych, the overseer, had not the latter +instinctively avoided the blow. "Thought... Blackguards..." shouted +the prince rapidly. + +But although Alpatych, frightened at his own temerity in avoiding +the stroke, came up to the prince, bowing his bald head resignedly +before him, or perhaps for that very reason, the prince, though he +continued to shout: "Blackguards!... Throw the snow back on the road!" +did not lift his stick again but hurried into the house. + +Before dinner, Princess Mary and Mademoiselle Bourienne, who knew +that the prince was in a bad humor, stood awaiting him; Mademoiselle +Bourienne with a radiant face that said: "I know nothing, I am the +same as usual," and Princess Mary pale, frightened, and with +downcast eyes. What she found hardest to bear was to know that on such +occasions she ought to behave like Mademoiselle Bourienne, but could +not. She thought: "If I seem not to notice he will think that I do not +sympathize with him; if I seem sad and out of spirits myself, he +will say (as he has done before) that I'm in the dumps." + +The prince looked at his daughter's frightened face and snorted. + +"Fool... or dummy!" he muttered. + +"And the other one is not here. They've been telling tales," he +thought--referring to the little princess who was not in the dining +room. + +"Where is the princess?" he asked. "Hiding?" + +"She is not very well," answered Mademoiselle Bourienne with a +bright smile, "so she won't come down. It is natural in her state." + +"Hm! Hm!" muttered the prince, sitting down. + +His plate seemed to him not quite clean, and pointing to a spot he +flung it away. Tikhon caught it and handed it to a footman. The little +princess was not unwell, but had such an overpowering fear of the +prince that, hearing he was in a bad humor, she had decided not to +appear. + +"I am afraid for the baby," she said to Mademoiselle Bourienne: +"Heaven knows what a fright might do." + +In general at Bald Hills the little princess lived in constant fear, +and with a sense of antipathy to the old prince which she did not +realize because the fear was so much the stronger feeling. The +prince reciprocated this antipathy, but it was overpowered by his +contempt for her. When the little princess had grown accustomed to +life at Bald Hills, she took a special fancy to Mademoiselle +Bourienne, spent whole days with her, asked her to sleep in her +room, and often talked with her about the old prince and criticized +him. + +"So we are to have visitors, mon prince?" remarked Mademoiselle +Bourienne, unfolding her white napkin with her rosy fingers. "His +Excellency Prince Vasili Kuragin and his son, I understand?" she +said inquiringly. + +"Hm!--his excellency is a puppy.... I got him his appointment in the +service," said the prince disdainfully. "Why his son is coming I don't +understand. Perhaps Princess Elizabeth and Princess Mary know. I don't +want him." (He looked at his blushing daughter.) "Are you unwell +today? Eh? Afraid of the 'minister' as that idiot Alpatych called +him this morning?" + +"No, mon pere." + +Though Mademoiselle Bourienne had been so unsuccessful in her choice +of a subject, she did not stop talking, but chattered about the +conservatories and the beauty of a flower that had just opened, and +after the soup the prince became more genial. + +After dinner, he went to see his daughter-in-law. The little +princess was sitting at a small table, chattering with Masha, her +maid. She grew pale on seeing her father-in-law. + +She was much altered. She was now plain rather than pretty. Her +cheeks had sunk, her lip was drawn up, and her eyes drawn down. + +"Yes, I feel a kind of oppression," she said in reply to the +prince's question as to how she felt. + +"Do you want anything?" + +"No, merci, mon pere." + +"Well, all right, all right." + +He left the room and went to the waiting room where Alpatych stood +with bowed head. + +"Has the snow been shoveled back?" + +"Yes, your excellency. Forgive me for heaven's sake... It was only +my stupidity." + +"All right, all right," interrupted the prince, and laughing his +unnatural way, he stretched out his hand for Alpatych to kiss, and +then proceeded to his study. + +Prince Vasili arrived that evening. He was met in the avenue by +coachmen and footmen, who, with loud shouts, dragged his sleighs up to +one of the lodges over the road purposely laden with snow. + +Prince Vasili and Anatole had separate rooms assigned to them. + +Anatole, having taken off his overcoat, sat with arms akimbo +before a table on a corner of which he smilingly and absent-mindedly +fixed his large and handsome eyes. He regarded his whole life as a +continual round of amusement which someone for some reason had to +provide for him. And he looked on this visit to a churlish old man and +a rich and ugly heiress in the same way. All this might, he thought, +turn out very well and amusingly. "And why not marry her if she really +has so much money? That never does any harm," thought Anatole. + +He shaved and scented himself with the care and elegance which had +become habitual to him and, his handsome head held high, entered his +father's room with the good-humored and victorious air natural to him. +Prince Vasili's two valets were busy dressing him, and he looked round +with much animation and cheerfully nodded to his son as the latter +entered, as if to say: "Yes, that's how I want you to look." + +"I say, Father, joking apart, is she very hideous?" Anatole asked, +as if continuing a conversation the subject of which had often been +mentioned during the journey. + +"Enough! What nonsense! Above all, try to be respectful and cautious +with the old prince." + +"If he starts a row I'll go away," said Prince Anatole. "I can't +bear those old men! Eh?" + +"Remember, for you everything depends on this." + +In the meantime, not only was it known in the maidservants' rooms +that the minister and his son had arrived, but the appearance of +both had been minutely described. Princess Mary was sitting alone in +her room, vainly trying to master her agitation. + +"Why did they write, why did Lise tell me about it? It can never +happen!" she said, looking at herself in the glass. "How shall I enter +the drawing room? Even if I like him I can't now be myself with +him." The mere thought of her father's look filled her with terror. +The little princess and Mademoiselle Bourienne had already received +from Masha, the lady's maid, the necessary report of how handsome +the minister's son was, with his rosy cheeks and dark eyebrows, and +with what difficulty the father had dragged his legs upstairs while +the son had followed him like an eagle, three steps at a time. +Having received this information, the little princess and Mademoiselle +Bourienne, whose chattering voices had reached her from the +corridor, went into Princess Mary's room. + +"You know they've come, Marie?" said the little princess, waddling +in, and sinking heavily into an armchair. + +She was no longer in the loose gown she generally wore in the +morning, but had on one of her best dresses. Her hair was carefully +done and her face was animated, which, however, did not conceal its +sunken and faded outlines. Dressed as she used to be in Petersburg +society, it was still more noticeable how much plainer she had become. +Some unobtrusive touch had been added to Mademoiselle Bourienne's +toilet which rendered her fresh and pretty face yet more attractive. + +"What! Are you going to remain as you are, dear princess?" she +began. "They'll be announcing that the gentlemen are in the drawing +room and we shall have to go down, and you have not smartened yourself +up at all!" + +The little princess got up, rang for the maid, and hurriedly and +merrily began to devise and carry out a plan of how Princess Mary +should be dressed. Princess Mary's self-esteem was wounded by the fact +that the arrival of a suitor agitated her, and still more so by both +her companions' not having the least conception that it could be +otherwise. To tell them that she felt ashamed for herself and for them +would be to betray her agitation, while to decline their offers to +dress her would prolong their banter and insistence. She flushed, +her beautiful eyes grew dim, red blotches came on her face, and it +took on the unattractive martyrlike expression it so often wore, as +she submitted herself to Mademoiselle Bourienne and Lise. Both these +women quite sincerely tried to make her look pretty. She was so +plain that neither of them could think of her as a rival, so they +began dressing her with perfect sincerity, and with the naive and firm +conviction women have that dress can make a face pretty. + +"No really, my dear, this dress is not pretty," said Lise, looking +sideways at Princess Mary from a little distance. "You have a maroon +dress, have it fetched. Really! You know the fate of your whole life +may be at stake. But this one is too light, it's not becoming!" + +It was not the dress, but the face and whole figure of Princess Mary +that was not pretty, but neither Mademoiselle Bourienne nor the little +princess felt this; they still thought that if a blue ribbon were +placed in the hair, the hair combed up, and the blue scarf arranged +lower on the best maroon dress, and so on, all would be well. They +forgot that the frightened face and the figure could not be altered, +and that however they might change the setting and adornment of that +face, it would still remain piteous and plain. After two or three +changes to which Princess Mary meekly submitted, just as her hair +had been arranged on the top of her head (a style that quite altered +and spoiled her looks) and she had put on a maroon dress with a +pale-blue scarf, the little princess walked twice round her, now +adjusting a fold of the dress with her little hand, now arranging +the scarf and looking at her with her head bent first on one side +and then on the other. + +"No, it will not do," she said decidedly, clasping her hands. "No, +Mary, really this dress does not suit you. I prefer you in your little +gray everyday dress. Now please, do it for my sake. Katie," she said +to the maid, "bring the princess her gray dress, and you'll see, +Mademoiselle Bourienne, how I shall arrange it," she added, smiling +with a foretaste of artistic pleasure. + +But when Katie brought the required dress, Princess Mary remained +sitting motionless before the glass, looking at her face, and saw in +the mirror her eyes full of tears and her mouth quivering, ready to +burst into sobs. + +"Come, dear princess," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "just one more +little effort." + +The little princess, taking the dress from the maid, came up to +Princess Mary. + +"Well, now we'll arrange something quite simple and becoming," she +said. + +The three voices, hers, Mademoiselle Bourienne's, and Katie's, who +was laughing at something, mingled in a merry sound, like the chirping +of birds. + +"No, leave me alone," said Princess Mary. + +Her voice sounded so serious and so sad that the chirping of the +birds was silenced at once. They looked at the beautiful, large, +thoughtful eyes full of tears and of thoughts, gazing shiningly and +imploringly at them, and understood that it was useless and even cruel +to insist. + +"At least, change your coiffure," said the little princess. +"Didn't I tell you," she went on, turning reproachfully to +Mademoiselle Bourienne, "Mary's is a face which such a coiffure does +not suit in the least. Not in the least! Please change it." + +"Leave me alone, please leave me alone! It is all quite the same +to me," answered a voice struggling with tears. + +Mademoiselle Bourienne and the little princess had to own to +themselves that Princess Mary in this guise looked very plain, worse +than usual, but it was too late. She was looking at them with an +expression they both knew, an expression thoughtful and sad. This +expression in Princess Mary did not frighten them (she never +inspired fear in anyone), but they knew that when it appeared on her +face, she became mute and was not to be shaken in her determination. + +"You will change it, won't you?" said Lise. And as Princess Mary +gave no answer, she left the room. + +Princess Mary was left alone. She did not comply with Lise's +request, she not only left her hair as it was, but did not even look +in her glass. Letting her arms fall helplessly, she sat with +downcast eyes and pondered. A husband, a man, a strong dominant and +strangely attractive being rose in her imagination, and carried her +into a totally different happy world of his own. She fancied a +child, her own--such as she had seen the day before in the arms of her +nurse's daughter--at her own breast, the husband standing by and +gazing tenderly at her and the child. "But no, it is impossible, I +am too ugly," she thought. + +"Please come to tea. The prince will be out in a moment," came the +maid's voice at the door. + +She roused herself, and felt appalled at what she had been thinking, +and before going down she went into the room where the icons hung and, +her eyes fixed on the dark face of a large icon of the Saviour lit +by a lamp, she stood before it with folded hands for a few moments. +A painful doubt filled her soul. Could the joy of love, of earthly +love for a man, be for her? In her thoughts of marriage Princess +Mary dreamed of happiness and of children, but her strongest, most +deeply hidden longing was for earthly love. The more she tried to hide +this feeling from others and even from herself, the stronger it +grew. "O God," she said, "how am I to stifle in my heart these +temptations of the devil? How am I to renounce forever these vile +fancies, so as peacefully to fulfill Thy will?" And scarcely had she +put that question than God gave her the answer in her own heart. +"Desire nothing for thyself, seek nothing, be not anxious or +envious. Man's future and thy own fate must remain hidden from thee, +but live so that thou mayest be ready for anything. If it be God's +will to prove thee in the duties of marriage, be ready to fulfill +His will." With this consoling thought (but yet with a hope for the +fulfillment of her forbidden earthly longing) Princess Mary sighed, +and having crossed herself went down, thinking neither of her gown and +coiffure nor of how she would go in nor of what she would say. What +could all that matter in comparison with the will of God, without +Whose care not a hair of man's head can fall? + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +When Princess Mary came down, Prince Vasili and his son were already +in the drawing room, talking to the little princess and Mademoiselle +Bourienne. When she entered with her heavy step, treading on her +heels, the gentlemen and Mademoiselle Bourienne rose and the little +princess, indicating her to the gentlemen, said: "Voila Marie!" +Princess Mary saw them all and saw them in detail. She saw Prince +Vasili's face, serious for an instant at the sight of her, but +immediately smiling again, and the little princess curiously noting +the impression "Marie" produced on the visitors. And she saw +Mademoiselle Bourienne, with her ribbon and pretty face, and her +unusually animated look which was fixed on him, but him she could not +see, she only saw something large, brilliant, and handsome moving +toward her as she entered the room. Prince Vasili approached first, +and she kissed the bold forehead that bent over her hand and answered +his question by saying that, on the contrary, she remembered him quite +well. Then Anatole came up to her. She still could not see him. She +only felt a soft hand taking hers firmly, and she touched with her +lips a white forehead, over which was beautiful light-brown hair +smelling of pomade. When she looked up at him she was struck by his +beauty. Anatole stood with his right thumb under a button of his +uniform, his chest expanded and his back drawn in, slightly swinging +one foot, and, with his head a little bent, looked with beaming face +at the princess without speaking and evidently not thinking about her +at all. Anatole was not quick-witted, nor ready or eloquent in +conversation, but he had the faculty, so invaluable in society, of +composure and imperturbable self-possession. If a man lacking in +self-confidence remains dumb on a first introduction and betrays a +consciousness of the impropriety of such silence and an anxiety to +find something to say, the effect is bad. But Anatole was dumb, swung +his foot, and smilingly examined the princess' hair. It was evident +that he could be silent in this way for a very long time. "If anyone +finds this silence inconvenient, let him talk, but I don't want to," +he seemed to say. Besides this, in his behavior to women Anatole had a +manner which particularly inspires in them curiosity, awe, and even +love--a supercilious consciousness of his own superiority. It was as +if he said to them: "I know you, I know you, but why should I bother +about you? You'd be only too glad, of course." Perhaps he did not +really think this when he met women--even probably he did not, for in +general he thought very little--but his looks and manner gave that +impression. The princess felt this, and as if wishing to show him that +she did not even dare expect to interest him, she turned to his +father. The conversation was general and animated, thanks to Princess +Lise's voice and little downy lip that lifted over her white teeth. +She met Prince Vasili with that playful manner often employed by +lively chatty people, and consisting in the assumption that between +the person they so address and themselves there are some semi-private, +long-established jokes and amusing reminiscences, though no such +reminiscences really exist--just as none existed in this case. Prince +Vasili readily adopted her tone and the little princess also drew +Anatole, whom she hardly knew, into these amusing recollections of +things that had never occurred. Mademoiselle Bourienne also shared +them and even Princess Mary felt herself pleasantly made to share in +these merry reminiscences. + +"Here at least we shall have the benefit of your company all to +ourselves, dear prince," said the little princess (of course, in +French) to Prince Vasili. "It's not as at Annette's* receptions +where you always ran away; you remember cette chere Annette!" + + +*Anna Pavlovna. + + +"Ah, but you won't talk politics to me like Annette!" + +"And our little tea table?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"Why is it you were never at Annette's?" the little princess asked +Anatole. "Ah, I know, I know," she said with a sly glance, "your +brother Hippolyte told me about your goings on. Oh!" and she shook her +finger at him, "I have even heard of your doings in Paris!" + +"And didn't Hippolyte tell you?" asked Prince Vasili, turning to his +son and seizing the little princess' arm as if she would have run away +and he had just managed to catch her, "didn't he tell you how he +himself was pining for the dear princess, and how she showed him the +door? Oh, she is a pearl among women, Princess," he added, turning +to Princess Mary. + +When Paris was mentioned, Mademoiselle Bourienne for her part seized +the opportunity of joining in the general current of recollections. + +She took the liberty of inquiring whether it was long since +Anatole had left Paris and how he had liked that city. Anatole +answered the Frenchwoman very readily and, looking at her with a +smile, talked to her about her native land. When he saw the pretty +little Bourienne, Anatole came to the conclusion that he would not +find Bald Hills dull either. "Not at all bad!" he thought, examining +her, "not at all bad, that little companion! I hope she will bring her +along with her when we're married, la petite est gentille."* + + +*The little one is charming. + + +The old prince dressed leisurely in his study, frowning and +considering what he was to do. The coming of these visitors annoyed +him. "What are Prince Vasili and that son of his to me? Prince +Vasili is a shallow braggart and his son, no doubt, is a fine +specimen," he grumbled to himself. What angered him was that the +coming of these visitors revived in his mind an unsettled question +he always tried to stifle, one about which he always deceived himself. +The question was whether he could ever bring himself to part from +his daughter and give her to a husband. The prince never directly +asked himself that question, knowing beforehand that he would have +to answer it justly, and justice clashed not only with his feelings +but with the very possibility of life. Life without Princess Mary, +little as he seemed to value her, was unthinkable to him. "And why +should she marry?" he thought. "To be unhappy for certain. There's +Lise, married to Andrew--a better husband one would think could hardly +be found nowadays--but is she contented with her lot? And who would +marry Marie for love? Plain and awkward! They'll take her for her +connections and wealth. Are there no women living unmarried, and +even the happier for it?" So thought Prince Bolkonski while +dressing, and yet the question he was always putting off demanded an +immediate answer. Prince Vasili had brought his son with the evident +intention of proposing, and today or tomorrow he would probably ask +for an answer. His birth and position in society were not bad. +"Well, I've nothing against it," the prince said to himself, "but he +must be worthy of her. And that is what we shall see." + +"That is what we shall see! That is what we shall see!" he added +aloud. + +He entered the drawing room with his usual alert step, glancing +rapidly round the company. He noticed the change in the little +princess' dress, Mademoiselle Bourienne's ribbon, Princess Mary's +unbecoming coiffure, Mademoiselle Bourienne's and Anatole's smiles, +and the loneliness of his daughter amid the general conversation. "Got +herself up like a fool!" he thought, looking irritably at her. "She is +shameless, and he ignores her!" + +He went straight up to Prince Vasili. + +"Well! How d'ye do? How d'ye do? Glad to see you!" + +"Friendship laughs at distance," began Prince Vasili in his usual +rapid, self-confident, familiar tone. "Here is my second son; please +love and befriend him." + +Prince Bolkonski surveyed Anatole. + +"Fine young fellow! Fine young fellow!" he said. "Well, come and +kiss me," and he offered his cheek. + +Anatole kissed the old man, and looked at him with curiosity and +perfect composure, waiting for a display of the eccentricities his +father had told him to expect. + +Prince Bolkonski sat down in his usual place in the corner of the +sofa and, drawing up an armchair for Prince Vasili, pointed to it +and began questioning him about political affairs and news. He +seemed to listen attentively to what Prince Vasili said, but kept +glancing at Princess Mary. + +"And so they are writing from Potsdam already?" he said, repeating +Prince Vasili's last words. Then rising, he suddenly went up to his +daughter. + +"Is it for visitors you've got yourself up like that, eh?" said +he. "Fine, very fine! You have done up your hair in this new way for +the visitors, and before the visitors I tell you that in future you +are never to dare to change your way of dress without my consent." + +"It was my fault, mon pere," interceded the little princess, with +a blush. + +"You must do as you please," said Prince Bolkonski, bowing to his +daughter-in-law, "but she need not make a fool of herself, she's plain +enough as it is." + +And he sat down again, paying no more attention to his daughter, who +was reduced to tears. + +"On the contrary, that coiffure suits the princess very well," +said Prince Vasili. + +"Now you, young prince, what's your name?" said Prince Bolkonski, +turning to Anatole, "come here, let us talk and get acquainted." + +"Now the fun begins," thought Anatole, sitting down with a smile +beside the old prince. + +"Well, my dear boy, I hear you've been educated abroad, not taught +to read and write by the deacon, like your father and me. Now tell me, +my dear boy, are you serving in the Horse Guards?" asked the old +man, scrutinizing Anatole closely and intently. + +"No, I have been transferred to the line," said Anatole, hardly able +to restrain his laughter. + +"Ah! That's a good thing. So, my dear boy, you wish to serve the +Tsar and the country? It is wartime. Such a fine fellow must serve. +Well, are you off to the front?" + +"No, Prince, our regiment has gone to the front, but I am +attached... what is it I am attached to, Papa?" said Anatole, +turning to his father with a laugh. + +"A splendid soldier, splendid! 'What am I attached to!' Ha, ha, ha!" +laughed Prince Bolkonski, and Anatole laughed still louder. Suddenly +Prince Bolkonski frowned. + +"You may go," he said to Anatole. + +Anatole returned smiling to the ladies. + +"And so you've had him educated abroad, Prince Vasili, haven't you?" +said the old prince to Prince Vasili. + +"I have done my best for him, and I can assure you the education +there is much better than ours." + +"Yes, everything is different nowadays, everything is changed. The +lad's a fine fellow, a fine fellow! Well, come with me now." He took +Prince Vasili's arm and led him to his study. As soon as they were +alone together, Prince Vasili announced his hopes and wishes to the +old prince. + +"Well, do you think I shall prevent her, that I can't part from +her?" said the old prince angrily. "What an idea! I'm ready for it +tomorrow! Only let me tell you, I want to know my son-in-law better. +You know my principles--everything aboveboard? I will ask her tomorrow +in your presence; if she is willing, then he can stay on. He can +stay and I'll see." The old prince snorted. "Let her marry, it's all +the same to me!" he screamed in the same piercing tone as when parting +from his son. + +"I will tell you frankly," said Prince Vasili in the tone of a +crafty man convinced of the futility of being cunning with so +keen-sighted companion. "You know, you see right through people. +Anatole is no genius, but he is an honest, goodhearted lad; an +excellent son or kinsman." + +"All right, all right, we'll see!" + +As always happens when women lead lonely lives for any length of +time without male society, on Anatole's appearance all the three women +of Prince Bolkonski's household felt that their life had not been real +till then. Their powers of reasoning, feeling, and observing +immediately increased tenfold, and their life, which seemed to have +been passed in darkness, was suddenly lit up by a new brightness, full +of significance. + +Princess Mary grew quite unconscious of her face and coiffure. The +handsome open face of the man who might perhaps be her husband +absorbed all her attention. He seemed to her kind, brave, +determined, manly, and magnanimous. She felt convinced of that. +Thousands of dreams of a future family life continually rose in her +imagination. She drove them away and tried to conceal them. + +"But am I not too cold with him?" thought the princess. "I try to be +reserved because in the depth of my soul I feel too near to him +already, but then he cannot know what I think of him and may imagine +that I do not like him." + +And Princess Mary tried, but could not manage, to be cordial to +her new guest. "Poor girl, she's devilish ugly!" thought Anatole. + +Mademoiselle Bourienne, also roused to great excitement by Anatole's +arrival, thought in another way. Of course, she, a handsome young +woman without any definite position, without relations or even a +country, did not intend to devote her life to serving Prince +Bolkonski, to reading aloud to him and being friends with Princess +Mary. Mademoiselle Bourienne had long been waiting for a Russian +prince who, able to appreciate at a glance her superiority to the +plain, badly dressed, ungainly Russian princesses, would fall in +love with her and carry her off; and here at last was a Russian +prince. Mademoiselle Bourienne knew a story, heard from her aunt but +finished in her own way, which she liked to repeat to herself. It +was the story of a girl who had been seduced, and to whom her poor +mother (sa pauvre mere) appeared, and reproached her for yielding to a +man without being married. Mademoiselle Bourienne was often touched to +tears as in imagination she told this story to him, her seducer. And +now he, a real Russian prince, had appeared. He would carry her away +and then sa pauvre mere would appear and he would marry her. So her +future shaped itself in Mademoiselle Bourienne's head at the very time +she was talking to Anatole about Paris. It was not calculation that +guided her (she did not even for a moment consider what she should +do), but all this had long been familiar to her, and now that +Anatole had appeared it just grouped itself around him and she +wished and tried to please him as much as possible. + +The little princess, like an old war horse that hears the trumpet, +unconsciously and quite forgetting her condition, prepared for the +familiar gallop of coquetry, without any ulterior motive or any +struggle, but with naive and lighthearted gaiety. + +Although in female society Anatole usually assumed the role of a man +tired of being run after by women, his vanity was flattered by the +spectacle of his power over these three women. Besides that, he was +beginning to feel for the pretty and provocative Mademoiselle +Bourienne that passionate animal feeling which was apt to master him +with great suddenness and prompt him to the coarsest and most reckless +actions. + +After tea, the company went into the sitting room and Princess +Mary was asked to play on the clavichord. Anatole, laughing and in +high spirits, came and leaned on his elbows, facing her and beside +Mademoiselle Bourienne. Princess Mary felt his look with a painfully +joyous emotion. Her favorite sonata bore her into a most intimately +poetic world and the look she felt upon her made that world still more +poetic. But Anatole's expression, though his eyes were fixed on her, +referred not to her but to the movements of Mademoiselle Bourienne's +little foot, which he was then touching with his own under the +clavichord. Mademoiselle Bourienne was also looking at Princess +Mary, and in her lovely eyes there was a look of fearful joy and +hope that was also new to the princess. + +"How she loves me!" thought Princess Mary. "How happy I am now, +and how happy I may be with such a friend and such a husband! Husband? +Can it be possible?" she thought, not daring to look at his face, +but still feeling his eyes gazing at her. + +In the evening, after supper, when all were about to retire, Anatole +kissed Princess Mary's hand. She did not know how she found the +courage, but she looked straight into his handsome face as it came +near to her shortsighted eyes. Turning from Princess Mary he went up +and kissed Mademoiselle Bourienne's hand. (This was not etiquette, but +then he did everything so simply and with such assurance!) +Mademoiselle Bourienne flushed, and gave the princess a frightened +look. + +"What delicacy!" thought the princess. "Is it possible that Amelie" +(Mademoiselle Bourienne) "thinks I could be jealous of her, and not +value her pure affection and devotion to me?" She went up to her and +kissed her warmly. Anatole went up to kiss the little princess' hand. + +"No! No! No! When your father writes to tell me that you are +behaving well I will give you my hand to kiss. Not till then!" she +said. And smilingly raising a finger at him, she left the room. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +They all separated, but, except Anatole who fell asleep as soon as +he got into bed, all kept awake a long time that night. + +"Is he really to be my husband, this stranger who is so kind--yes, +kind, that is the chief thing," thought Princess Mary; and fear, which +she had seldom experienced, came upon her. She feared to look round, +it seemed to her that someone was there standing behind the screen +in the dark corner. And this someone was he--the devil--and he was +also this man with the white forehead, black eyebrows, and red lips. + +She rang for her maid and asked her to sleep in her room. + +Mademoiselle Bourienne walked up and down the conservatory for a +long time that evening, vainly expecting someone, now smiling at +someone, now working herself up to tears with the imaginary words of +her pauvre mere rebuking her for her fall. + +The little princess grumbled to her maid that her bed was badly +made. She could not lie either on her face or on her side. Every +position was awkward and uncomfortable, and her burden oppressed her +now more than ever because Anatole's presence had vividly recalled +to her the time when she was not like that and when everything was +light and gay. She sat in an armchair in her dressing jacket and +nightcap and Katie, sleepy and disheveled, beat and turned the heavy +feather bed for the third time, muttering to herself. + +"I told you it was all lumps and holes!" the little princess +repeated. "I should be glad enough to fall asleep, so it's not my +fault!" and her voice quivered like that of a child about to cry. + +The old prince did not sleep either. Tikhon, half asleep, heard +him pacing angrily about and snorting. The old prince felt as though +he had been insulted through his daughter. The insult was the more +pointed because it concerned not himself but another, his daughter, +whom he loved more than himself. He kept telling himself that he would +consider the whole matter and decide what was right and how he +should act, but instead of that he only excited himself more and more. + +"The first man that turns up--she forgets her father and +everything else, runs upstairs and does up her hair and wags her +tail and is unlike herself! Glad to throw her father over! And she +knew I should notice it. Fr... fr... fr! And don't I see that that +idiot had eyes only for Bourienne--I shall have to get rid of her. And +how is it she has not pride enough to see it? If she has no pride +for herself she might at least have some for my sake! She must be +shown that the blockhead thinks nothing of her and looks only at +Bourienne. No, she has no pride... but I'll let her see...." + +The old prince knew that if he told his daughter she was making a +mistake and that Anatole meant to flirt with Mademoiselle Bourienne, +Princess Mary's self-esteem would be wounded and his point (not to +be parted from her) would be gained, so pacifying himself with this +thought, he called Tikhon and began to undress. + +"What devil brought them here?" thought he, while Tikhon was putting +the nightshirt over his dried-up old body and gray-haired chest. "I +never invited them. They came to disturb my life--and there is not +much of it left." + +"Devil take 'em!" he muttered, while his head was still covered by +the shirt. + +Tikhon knew his master's habit of sometimes thinking aloud, and +therefore met with unaltered looks the angrily inquisitive +expression of the face that emerged from the shirt. + +"Gone to bed?" asked the prince. + +Tikhon, like all good valets, instinctively knew the direction of +his master's thoughts. He guessed that the question referred to Prince +Vasili and his son. + +"They have gone to bed and put out their lights, your excellency." + +"No good... no good..." said the prince rapidly, and thrusting his +feet into his slippers and his arms into the sleeves of his dressing +gown, he went to the couch on which he slept. + +Though no words had passed between Anatole and Mademoiselle +Bourienne, they quite understood one another as to the first part of +their romance, up to the appearance of the pauvre mere; they +understood that they had much to say to one another in private and +so they had been seeking an opportunity since morning to meet one +another alone. When Princess Mary went to her father's room at the +usual hour, Mademoiselle Bourienne and Anatole met in the +conservatory. + +Princess Mary went to the door of the study with special +trepidation. It seemed to her that not only did everybody know that +her fate would be decided that day, but that they also knew what she +thought about it. She read this in Tikhon's face and in that of Prince +Vasili's valet, who made her a low bow when she met him in the +corridor carrying hot water. + +The old prince was very affectionate and careful in his treatment of +his daughter that morning. Princess Mary well knew this painstaking +expression of her father's. His face wore that expression when his dry +hands clenched with vexation at her not understanding a sum in +arithmetic, when rising from his chair he would walk away from her, +repeating in a low voice the same words several times over. + +He came to the point at once, treating her ceremoniously. + +"I have had a proposition made me concerning you," he said with an +unnatural smile. "I expect you have guessed that Prince Vasili has not +come and brought his pupil with him" (for some reason Prince Bolkonski +referred to Anatole as a "pupil") "for the sake of my beautiful +eyes. Last night a proposition was made me on your account and, as you +know my principles, I refer it to you." + +"How am I to understand you, mon pere?" said the princess, growing +pale and then blushing. + +"How understand me!" cried her father angrily. "Prince Vasili +finds you to his taste as a daughter-in-law and makes a proposal to +you on his pupil's behalf. That's how it's to be understood! 'How +understand it'!... And I ask you!" + +"I do not know what you think, Father," whispered the princess. + +"I? I? What of me? Leave me out of the question. I'm not going to +get married. What about you? That's what I want to know." + +The princess saw that her father regarded the matter with +disapproval, but at that moment the thought occurred to her that her +fate would be decided now or never. She lowered her eyes so as not +to see the gaze under which she felt that she could not think, but +would only be able to submit from habit, and she said: "I wish only to +do your will, but if I had to express my own desire..." She had no +time to finish. The old prince interrupted her. + +"That's admirable!" he shouted. "He will take you with your dowry +and take Mademoiselle Bourienne into the bargain. She'll be the +wife, while you..." + +The prince stopped. He saw the effect these words had produced on +his daughter. She lowered her head and was ready to burst into tears. + +"Now then, now then, I'm only joking!" he said. "Remember this, +Princess, I hold to the principle that a maiden has a full right to +choose. I give you freedom. Only remember that your life's happiness +depends on your decision. Never mind me!" + +"But I do not know, Father!" + +"There's no need to talk! He receives his orders and will marry +you or anybody; but you are free to choose.... Go to your room, +think it over, and come back in an hour and tell me in his presence: +yes or no. I know you will pray over it. Well, pray if you like, but +you had better think it over. Go! Yes or no, yes or no, yes or no!" he +still shouted when the princess, as if lost in a fog, had already +staggered out of the study. + +Her fate was decided and happily decided. But what her father had +said about Mademoiselle Bourienne was dreadful. It was untrue to be +sure, but still it was terrible, and she could not help thinking of +it. She was going straight on through the conservatory, neither seeing +nor hearing anything, when suddenly the well-known whispering of +Mademoiselle Bourienne aroused her. She raised her eyes, and two steps +away saw Anatole embracing the Frenchwoman and whispering something to +her. With a horrified expression on his handsome face, Anatole +looked at Princess Mary, but did not at once take his arm from the +waist of Mademoiselle Bourienne who had not yet seen her. + +"Who's that? Why? Wait a moment!" Anatole's face seemed to say. +Princess Mary looked at them in silence. She could not understand +it. At last Mademoiselle Bourienne gave a scream and ran away. Anatole +bowed to Princess Mary with a gay smile, as if inviting her to join in +a laugh at this strange incident, and then shrugging his shoulders +went to the door that led to his own apartments. + +An hour later, Tikhon came to call Princess Mary to the old +prince; he added that Prince Vasili was also there. When Tikhon came +to her Princess Mary was sitting on the sofa in her room, holding +the weeping Mademoiselle Bourienne in her arms and gently stroking her +hair. The princess' beautiful eyes with all their former calm radiance +were looking with tender affection and pity at Mademoiselle +Bourienne's pretty face. + +"No, Princess, I have lost your affection forever!" said +Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +"Why? I love you more than ever," said Princess Mary, "and I will +try to do all I can for your happiness." + +"But you despise me. You who are so pure can never understand +being so carried away by passion. Oh, only my poor mother..." + +"I quite understand," answered Princess Mary, with a sad smile. +"Calm yourself, my dear. I will go to my father," she said, and went +out. + +Prince Vasili, with one leg thrown high over the other and a +snuffbox in his hand, was sitting there with a smile of deep emotion +on his face, as if stirred to his heart's core and himself +regretting and laughing at his own sensibility, when Princess Mary +entered. He hurriedly took a pinch of snuff. + +"Ah, my dear, my dear!" he began, rising and taking her by both +hands. Then, sighing, he added: "My son's fate is in your hands. +Decide, my dear, good, gentle Marie, whom I have always loved as a +daughter!" + +He drew back and a real tear appeared in his eye. + +"Fr... fr..." snorted Prince Bolkonski. "The prince is making a +proposition to you in his pupil's--I mean, his son's--name. Do you +wish or not to be Prince Anatole Kuragin's wife? Reply: yes or no," he +shouted, "and then I shall reserve the right to state my opinion also. +Yes, my opinion, and only my opinion," added Prince Bolkonski, turning +to Prince Vasili and answering his imploring look. "Yes, or no?" + +"My desire is never to leave you, Father, never to separate my +life from yours. I don't wish to marry," she answered positively, +glancing at Prince Vasili and at her father with her beautiful eyes. + +"Humbug! Nonsense! Humbug, humbug, humbug!" cried Prince +Bolkonski, frowning and taking his daughter's hand; he did not kiss +her, but only bending his forehead to hers just touched it, and +pressed her hand so that she winced and uttered a cry. + +Prince Vasili rose. + +"My dear, I must tell you that this is a moment I shall never, never +forget. But, my dear, will you not give us a little hope of touching +this heart, so kind and generous? Say 'perhaps'... The future is so +long. Say 'perhaps.'" + +"Prince, what I have said is all there is in my heart. I thank you +for the honor, but I shall never be your son's wife." + +"Well, so that's finished, my dear fellow! I am very glad to have +seen you. Very glad! Go back to your rooms, Princess. Go!" said the +old prince. "Very, very glad to have seen you," repeated he, +embracing Prince Vasili. + +"My vocation is a different one," thought Princess Mary. "My +vocation is to be happy with another kind of happiness, the +happiness of love and self-sacrifice. And cost what it may, I will +arrange poor Amelie's happiness, she loves him so passionately, and so +passionately repents. I will do all I can to arrange the match between +them. If he is not rich I will give her the means; I will ask my +father and Andrew. I shall be so happy when she is his wife. She is so +unfortunate, a stranger, alone, helpless! And, oh God, how +passionately she must love him if she could so far forget herself! +Perhaps I might have done the same!..." thought Princess Mary. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was long since the Rostovs had news of Nicholas. Not till +midwinter was the count at last handed a letter addressed in his son's +handwriting. On receiving it, he ran on tiptoe to his study in alarm +and haste, trying to escape notice, closed the door, and began to read +the letter. + +Anna Mikhaylovna, who always knew everything that passed in the +house, on hearing of the arrival of the letter went softly into the +room and found the count with it in his hand, sobbing and laughing +at the same time. + +Anna Mikhaylovna, though her circumstances had improved, was still +living with the Rostovs. + +"My dear friend?" said she, in a tone of pathetic inquiry, +prepared to sympathize in any way. + +The count sobbed yet more. + +"Nikolenka... a letter... wa... a... s... wounded... my darling +boy... the countess... promoted to be an officer... thank God... How +tell the little countess!" + +Anna Mikhaylovna sat down beside him, with her own handkerchief +wiped the tears from his eyes and from the letter, then having dried +her own eyes she comforted the count, and decided that at dinner and +till teatime she would prepare the countess, and after tea, with God's +help, would inform her. + +At dinner Anna Mikhaylovna talked the whole time about the war +news and about Nikolenka, twice asked when the last letter had been +received from him, though she knew that already, and remarked that +they might very likely be getting a letter from him that day. Each +time that these hints began to make the countess anxious and she +glanced uneasily at the count and at Anna Mikhaylovna, the latter very +adroitly turned the conversation to insignificant matters. Natasha, +who, of the whole family, was the most gifted with a capacity to +feel any shades of intonation, look, and expression, pricked up her +ears from the beginning of the meal and was certain that there was +some secret between her father and Anna Mikhaylovna, that it had +something to do with her brother, and that Anna Mikhaylovna was +preparing them for it. Bold as she was, Natasha, who knew how +sensitive her mother was to anything relating to Nikolenka, did not +venture to ask any questions at dinner, but she was too excited to eat +anything and kept wriggling about on her chair regardless of her +governess' remarks. After dinner, she rushed head long after Anna +Mikhaylovna and, dashing at her, flung herself on her neck as soon +as she overtook her in the sitting room. + +"Auntie, darling, do tell me what it is!" + +"Nothing, my dear." + +"No, dearest, sweet one, honey, I won't give up--I know you know +something." + +Anna Mikhaylovna shook her head. + +"You are a little slyboots," she said. + +"A letter from Nikolenka! I'm sure of it!" exclaimed Natasha, +reading confirmation in Anna Mikhaylovna's face. + +"But for God's sake, be careful, you know how it may affect your +mamma." + +"I will, I will, only tell me! You won't? Then I will go and tell at +once." + +Anna Mikhaylovna, in a few words, told her the contents of the +letter, on condition that she should tell no one. + +"No, on my true word of honor," said Natasha, crossing herself, +"I won't tell anyone!" and she ran off at once to Sonya. + +"Nikolenka... wounded... a letter," she announced in gleeful +triumph. + +"Nicholas!" was all Sonya said, instantly turning white. + +Natasha, seeing the impression the news of her brother's wound +produced on Sonya, felt for the first time the sorrowful side of the +news. + +She rushed to Sonya, hugged her, and began to cry. + +"A little wound, but he has been made an officer; he is well now, he +wrote himself," said she through her tears. + +"There now! It's true that all you women are crybabies," remarked +Petya, pacing the room with large, resolute strides. "Now I'm very +glad, very glad indeed, that my brother has distinguished himself +so. You are all blubberers and understand nothing." + +Natasha smiled through her tears. + +"You haven't read the letter?" asked Sonya. + +"No, but she said that it was all over and that he's now an +officer." + +"Thank God!" said Sonya, crossing herself. "But perhaps she deceived +you. Let us go to Mamma." + +Petya paced the room in silence for a time. + +"If I'd been in Nikolenka's place I would have killed even more of +those Frenchmen," he said. "What nasty brutes they are! I'd have +killed so many that there'd have been a heap of them." + +"Hold your tongue, Petya, what a goose you are!" + +"I'm not a goose, but they are who cry about trifles," said Petya. + +"Do you remember him?" Natasha suddenly asked, after a moment's +silence. + +Sonya smiled. + +"Do I remember Nicholas?" + +"No, Sonya, but do you remember so that you remember him +perfectly, remember everything?" said Natasha, with an expressive +gesture, evidently wishing to give her words a very definite +meaning. "I remember Nikolenka too, I remember him well," she said. +"But I don't remember Boris. I don't remember him a bit." + +"What! You don't remember Boris?" asked Sonya in surprise. + +"It's not that I don't remember--I know what he is like, but not +as I remember Nikolenka. Him--I just shut my eyes and remember, but +Boris... No!" (She shut her eyes.)"No! there's nothing at all." + +"Oh, Natasha!" said Sonya, looking ecstatically and earnestly at her +friend as if she did not consider her worthy to hear what she meant to +say and as if she were saying it to someone else, with whom joking was +out of the question, "I am in love with your brother once for all and, +whatever may happen to him or to me, shall never cease to love him +as long as I live." + +Natasha looked at Sonya with wondering and inquisitive eyes, and +said nothing. She felt that Sonya was speaking the truth, that there +was such love as Sonya was speaking of. But Natasha had not yet felt +anything like it. She believed it could be, but did not understand it. + +"Shall you write to him?" she asked. + +Sonya became thoughtful. The question of how to write to Nicholas, +and whether she ought to write, tormented her. Now that he was already +an officer and a wounded hero, would it be right to remind him of +herself and, as it might seem, of the obligations to her he had +taken on himself? + +"I don't know. I think if he writes, I will write too," she said, +blushing. + +"And you won't feel ashamed to write to him?" + +Sonya smiled. + +"No." + +"And I should be ashamed to write to Boris. I'm not going to." + +"Why should you be ashamed?" + +"Well, I don't know. It's awkward and would make me ashamed." + +"And I know why she'd be ashamed," said Petya, offended by Natasha's +previous remark. "It's because she was in love with that fat one in +spectacles" (that was how Petya described his namesake, the new +Count Bezukhov) "and now she's in love with that singer" (he meant +Natasha's Italian singing master), "that's why she's ashamed!" + +"Petya, you're a stupid!" said Natasha. + +"Not more stupid than you, madam," said the nine-year-old Petya, +with the air of an old brigadier. + +The countess had been prepared by Anna Mikhaylovna's hints at +dinner. On retiring to her own room, she sat in an armchair, her +eyes fixed on a miniature portrait of her son on the lid of a +snuffbox, while the tears kept coming into her eyes. Anna Mikhaylovna, +with the letter, came on tiptoe to the countess' door and paused. + +"Don't come in," she said to the old count who was following her. +"Come later." And she went in, closing the door behind her. + +The count put his ear to the keyhole and listened. + +At first he heard the sound of indifferent voices, then Anna +Mikhaylovna's voice alone in a long speech, then a cry, then +silence, then both voices together with glad intonations, and then +footsteps. Anna Mikhaylovna opened the door. Her face wore the proud +expression of a surgeon who has just performed a difficult operation +and admits the public to appreciate his skill. + +"It is done!" she said to the count, pointing triumphantly to the +countess, who sat holding in one hand the snuffbox with its portrait +and in the other the letter, and pressing them alternately to her +lips. + +When she saw the count, she stretched out her arms to him, +embraced his bald head, over which she again looked at the letter +and the portrait, and in order to press them again to her lips, she +slightly pushed away the bald head. Vera, Natasha, Sonya, and Petya +now entered the room, and the reading of the letter began. After a +brief description of the campaign and the two battles in which he +had taken part, and his promotion, Nicholas said that he kissed his +father's and mother's hands asking for their blessing, and that he +kissed Vera, Natasha, and Petya. Besides that, he sent greetings to +Monsieur Schelling, Madame Schoss, and his old nurse, and asked them +to kiss for him "dear Sonya, whom he loved and thought of just the +same as ever." When she heard this Sonya blushed so that tears came +into her eyes and, unable to bear the looks turned upon her, ran +away into the dancing hall, whirled round it at full speed with her +dress puffed out like a balloon, and, flushed and smiling, plumped +down on the floor. The countess was crying. + +"Why are you crying, Mamma?" asked Vera. "From all he says one +should be glad and not cry." + +This was quite true, but the count, the countess, and Natasha looked +at her reproachfully. "And who is it she takes after?" thought the +countess. + +Nicholas' letter was read over hundreds of times, and those who were +considered worthy to hear it had to come to the countess, for she +did not let it out of her hands. The tutors came, and the nurses, +and Dmitri, and several acquaintances, and the countess reread the +letter each time with fresh pleasure and each time discovered in it +fresh proofs of Nikolenka's virtues. How strange, how extraordinary, +how joyful it seemed, that her son, the scarcely perceptible motion of +whose tiny limbs she had felt twenty years ago within her, that son +about whom she used to have quarrels with the too indulgent count, +that son who had first learned to say "pear" and then "granny," that +this son should now be away in a foreign land amid strange +surroundings, a manly warrior doing some kind of man's work of his +own, without help or guidance. The universal experience of ages, +showing that children do grow imperceptibly from the cradle to +manhood, did not exist for the countess. Her son's growth toward +manhood, at each of its stages, had seemed as extraordinary to her +as if there had never existed the millions of human beings who grew up +in the same way. As twenty years before, it seemed impossible that the +little creature who lived somewhere under her heart would ever cry, +suck her breast, and begin to speak, so now she could not believe that +that little creature could be this strong, brave man, this model son +and officer that, judging by this letter, he now was. + +"What a style! How charmingly he describes!" said she, reading the +descriptive part of the letter. "And what a soul! Not a word about +himself.... Not a word! About some Denisov or other, though he +himself, I dare say, is braver than any of them. He says nothing about +his sufferings. What a heart! How like him it is! And how he has +remembered everybody! Not forgetting anyone. I always said when he was +only so high--I always said...." + +For more than a week preparations were being made, rough drafts of +letters to Nicholas from all the household were written and copied +out, while under the supervision of the countess and the solicitude of +the count, money and all things necessary for the uniform and +equipment of the newly commissioned officer were collected. Anna +Mikhaylovna, practical woman that she was, had even managed by favor +with army authorities to secure advantageous means of communication +for herself and her son. She had opportunities of sending her +letters to the Grand Duke Constantine Pavlovich, who commanded the +Guards. The Rostovs supposed that The Russian Guards, Abroad, was +quite a definite address, and that if a letter reached the Grand +Duke in command of the Guards there was no reason why it should not +reach the Pavlograd regiment, which was presumably somewhere in the +same neighborhood. And so it was decided to send the letters and money +by the Grand Duke's courier to Boris and Boris was to forward them +to Nicholas. The letters were from the old count, the countess, Petya, +Vera, Natasha, and Sonya, and finally there were six thousand rubles +for his outfit and various other things the old count sent to his son. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +On the twelfth of November, Kutuzov's active army, in camp before +Olmutz, was preparing to be reviewed next day by the two Emperors--the +Russian and the Austrian. The Guards, just arrived from Russia, +spent the night ten miles from Olmutz and next morning were to come +straight to the review, reaching the field at Olmutz by ten o'clock. + +That day Nicholas Rostov received a letter from Boris, telling him +that the Ismaylov regiment was quartered for the night ten miles +from Olmutz and that he wanted to see him as he had a letter and money +for him. Rostov was particularly in need of money now that the troops, +after their active service, were stationed near Olmutz and the camp +swarmed with well-provisioned sutlers and Austrian Jews offering all +sorts of tempting wares. The Pavlograds held feast after feast, +celebrating awards they had received for the campaign, and made +expeditions to Olmutz to visit a certain Caroline the Hungarian, who +had recently opened a restaurant there with girls as waitresses. +Rostov, who had just celebrated his promotion to a cornetcy and bought +Denisov's horse, Bedouin, was in debt all round, to his comrades and +the sutlers. On receiving Boris' letter he rode with a fellow +officer to Olmutz, dined there, drank a bottle of wine, and then set +off alone to the Guards' camp to find his old playmate. Rostov had not +yet had time to get his uniform. He had on a shabby cadet jacket, +decorated with a soldier's cross, equally shabby cadet's riding +breeches lined with worn leather, and an officer's saber with a +sword knot. The Don horse he was riding was one he had bought from a +Cossack during the campaign, and he wore a crumpled hussar cap stuck +jauntily back on one side of his head. As he rode up to the camp he +thought how he would impress Boris and all his comrades of the +Guards by his appearance--that of a fighting hussar who had been under +fire. + +The Guards had made their whole march as if on a pleasure trip, +parading their cleanliness and discipline. They had come by easy +stages, their knapsacks conveyed on carts, and the Austrian +authorities had provided excellent dinners for the officers at every +halting place. The regiments had entered and left the town with +their bands playing, and by the Grand Duke's orders the men had +marched all the way in step (a practice on which the Guards prided +themselves), the officers on foot and at their proper posts. Boris had +been quartered, and had marched all the way, with Berg who was already +in command of a company. Berg, who had obtained his captaincy during +the campaign, had gained the confidence of his superiors by his +promptitude and accuracy and had arranged his money matters very +satisfactorily. Boris, during the campaign, had made the +acquaintance of many persons who might prove useful to him, and by a +letter of recommendation he had brought from Pierre had become +acquainted with Prince Andrew Bolkonski, through whom he hoped to +obtain a post on the commander in chief's staff. Berg and Boris, +having rested after yesterday's march, were sitting, clean and +neatly dressed, at a round table in the clean quarters allotted to +them, playing chess. Berg held a smoking pipe between his knees. +Boris, in the accurate way characteristic of him, was building a +little pyramid of chessmen with his delicate white fingers while +awaiting Berg's move, and watched his opponent's face, evidently +thinking about the game as he always thought only of whatever he was +engaged on. + +"Well, how are you going to get out of that?" he remarked. + +"We'll try to," replied Berg, touching a pawn and then removing +his hand. + +At that moment the door opened. + +"Here he is at last!" shouted Rostov. "And Berg too! Oh, you +petisenfans, allay cushay dormir!" he exclaimed, imitating his Russian +nurse's French, at which he and Boris used to laugh long ago. + +"Dear me, how you have changed!" + +Boris rose to meet Rostov, but in doing so did not omit to steady +and replace some chessmen that were falling. He was about to embrace +his friend, but Nicholas avoided him. With that peculiar feeling of +youth, that dread of beaten tracks, and wish to express itself in a +manner different from that of its elders which is often insincere, +Nicholas wished to do something special on meeting his friend. He +wanted to pinch him, push him, do anything but kiss him--a thing +everybody did. But notwithstanding this, Boris embraced him in a +quiet, friendly way and kissed him three times. + +They had not met for nearly half a year and, being at the age when +young men take their first steps on life's road, each saw immense +changes in the other, quite a new reflection of the society in which +they had taken those first steps. Both had changed greatly since +they last met and both were in a hurry to show the changes that had +taken place in them. + +"Oh, you damned dandies! Clean and fresh as if you'd been to a fete, +not like us sinners of the line," cried Rostov, with martial swagger +and with baritone notes in his voice, new to Boris, pointing to his +own mud-bespattered breeches. The German landlady, hearing Rostov's +loud voice, popped her head in at the door. + +"Eh, is she pretty?" he asked with a wink. + +"Why do you shout so? You'll frighten them!" said Boris. "I did +not expect you today," he added. "I only sent you the note yesterday +by Bolkonski--an adjutant of Kutuzov's, who's a friend of mine. I +did not think he would get it to you so quickly.... Well, how are you? +Been under fire already?" asked Boris. + +Without answering, Rostov shook the soldier's Cross of St. George +fastened to the cording of his uniform and, indicating a bandaged arm, +glanced at Berg with a smile. + +"As you see," he said. + +"Indeed? Yes, yes!" said Boris, with a smile. "And we too have had a +splendid march. You know, of course, that His Imperial Highness rode +with our regiment all the time, so that we had every comfort and every +advantage. What receptions we had in Poland! What dinners and balls! I +can't tell you. And the Tsarevich was very gracious to all our +officers." + +And the two friends told each other of their doings, the one of +his hussar revels and life in the fighting line, the other of the +pleasures and advantages of service under members of the Imperial +family. + +"Oh, you Guards!" said Rostov. "I say, send for some wine." + +Boris made a grimace. + +"If you really want it," said he. + +He went to his bed, drew a purse from under the clean pillow, and +sent for wine. + +"Yes, and I have some money and a letter to give you," he added. + +Rostov took the letter and, throwing the money on the sofa, put both +arms on the table and began to read. After reading a few lines, he +glanced angrily at Berg, then, meeting his eyes, hid his face behind +the letter. + +"Well, they've sent you a tidy sum," said Berg, eying the heavy +purse that sank into the sofa. "As for us, Count, we get along on +our pay. I can tell you for myself..." + +"I say, Berg, my dear fellow," said Rostov, "when you get a letter +from home and meet one of your own people whom you want to talk +everything over with, and I happen to be there, I'll go at once, to be +out of your way! Do go somewhere, anywhere... to the devil!" he +exclaimed, and immediately seizing him by the shoulder and looking +amiably into his face, evidently wishing to soften the rudeness of his +words, he added, "Don't be hurt, my dear fellow; you know I speak from +my heart as to an old acquaintance." + +"Oh, don't mention it, Count! I quite understand," said Berg, +getting up and speaking in a muffled and guttural voice. + +"Go across to our hosts: they invited you," added Boris. + +Berg put on the cleanest of coats, without a spot or speck of +dust, stood before a looking glass and brushed the hair on his temples +upwards, in the way affected by the Emperor Alexander, and, having +assured himself from the way Rostov looked at it that his coat had +been noticed, left the room with a pleasant smile. + +"Oh dear, what a beast I am!" muttered Rostov, as he read the +letter. + +"Why?" + +"Oh, what a pig I am, not to have written and to have given them +such a fright! Oh, what a pig I am!" he repeated, flushing suddenly. +"Well, have you sent Gabriel for some wine? All right let's have +some!" + +In the letter from his parents was enclosed a letter of +recommendation to Bagration which the old countess at Anna +Mikhaylovna's advice had obtained through an acquaintance and sent +to her son, asking him to take it to its destination and make use of +it. + +"What nonsense! Much I need it!" said Rostov, throwing the letter +under the table. + +"Why have you thrown that away?" asked Boris. + +"It is some letter of recommendation... what the devil do I want +it for!" + +"Why 'What the devil'?" said Boris, picking it up and reading the +address. "This letter would be of great use to you." + +"I want nothing, and I won't be anyone's adjutant." + +"Why not?" inquired Boris. + +"It's a lackey's job!" + +"You are still the same dreamer, I see," remarked Boris, shaking his +head. + +"And you're still the same diplomatist! But that's not the +point... Come, how are you?" asked Rostov. + +"Well, as you see. So far everything's all right, but I confess I +should much like to be an adjutant and not remain at the front." + +"Why?" + +"Because when once a man starts on military service, he should try +to make as successful a career of it as possible." + +"Oh, that's it!" said Rostov, evidently thinking of something else. + +He looked intently and inquiringly into his friend's eyes, evidently +trying in vain to find the answer to some question. + +Old Gabriel brought in the wine. + +"Shouldn't we now send for Berg?" asked Boris. "He would drink +with you. I can't." + +"Well, send for him... and how do you get on with that German?" +asked Rostov, with a contemptuous smile. + +"He is a very, very nice, honest, and pleasant fellow," answered +Boris. + +Again Rostov looked intently into Boris' eyes and sighed. Berg +returned, and over the bottle of wine conversation between the three +officers became animated. The Guardsmen told Rostov of their march and +how they had been made much of in Russia, Poland, and abroad. They +spoke of the sayings and doings of their commander, the Grand Duke, +and told stories of his kindness and irascibility. Berg, as usual, +kept silent when the subject did not relate to himself, but in +connection with the stories of the Grand Duke's quick temper he +related with gusto how in Galicia he had managed to deal with the +Grand Duke when the latter made a tour of the regiments and was +annoyed at the irregularity of a movement. With a pleasant smile +Berg related how the Grand Duke had ridden up to him in a violent +passion, shouting: "Arnauts!" ("Arnauts" was the Tsarevich's +favorite expression when he was in a rage) and called for the +company commander. + +"Would you believe it, Count, I was not at all alarmed, because I +knew I was right. Without boasting, you know, I may say that I know +the Army Orders by heart and know the Regulations as well as I do +the Lord's Prayer. So, Count, there never is any negligence in my +company, and so my conscience was at ease. I came forward...." (Berg +stood up and showed how he presented himself, with his hand to his +cap, and really it would have been difficult for a face to express +greater respect and self-complacency than his did.) "Well, he +stormed at me, as the saying is, stormed and stormed and stormed! It +was not a matter of life but rather of death, as the saying is. +'Albanians!' and 'devils!' and 'To Siberia!'" said Berg with a +sagacious smile. "I knew I was in the right so I kept silent; was +not that best, Count?... 'Hey, are you dumb?' he shouted. Still I +remained silent. And what do you think, Count? The next day it was not +even mentioned in the Orders of the Day. That's what keeping one's +head means. That's the way, Count," said Berg, lighting his pipe and +emitting rings of smoke. + +"Yes, that was fine," said Rostov, smiling. + +But Boris noticed that he was preparing to make fun of Berg, and +skillfully changed the subject. He asked him to tell them how and +where he got his wound. This pleased Rostov and he began talking about +it, and as he went on became more and more animated. He told them of +his Schon Grabern affair, just as those who have taken part in a +battle generally do describe it, that is, as they would like it to +have been, as they have heard it described by others, and as sounds +well, but not at all as it really was. Rostov was a truthful young man +and would on no account have told a deliberate lie. He began his story +meaning to tell everything just as it happened, but imperceptibly, +involuntarily, and inevitably he lapsed into falsehood. If he had told +the truth to his hearers--who like himself had often heard stories +of attacks and had formed a definite idea of what an attack was and +were expecting to hear just such a story--they would either not have +believed him or, still worse, would have thought that Rostov was +himself to blame since what generally happens to the narrators of +cavalry attacks had not happened to him. He could not tell them simply +that everyone went at a trot and that he fell off his horse and +sprained his arm and then ran as hard as he could from a Frenchman +into the wood. Besides, to tell everything as it really happened, it +would have been necessary to make an effort of will to tell only +what happened. It is very difficult to tell the truth, and young +people are rarely capable of it. His hearers expected a story of how +beside himself and all aflame with excitement, he had flown like a +storm at the square, cut his way in, slashed right and left, how his +saber had tasted flesh and he had fallen exhausted, and so on. And +so he told them all that. + +In the middle of his story, just as he was saying: "You cannot +imagine what a strange frenzy one experiences during an attack," +Prince Andrew, whom Boris was expecting, entered the room. Prince +Andrew, who liked to help young men, was flattered by being asked +for his assistance and being well disposed toward Boris, who had +managed to please him the day before, he wished to do what the young +man wanted. Having been sent with papers from Kutuzov to the +Tsarevich, he looked in on Boris, hoping to find him alone. When he +came in and saw an hussar of the line recounting his military exploits +(Prince Andrew could not endure that sort of man), he gave Boris a +pleasant smile, frowned as with half-closed eyes he looked at +Rostov, bowed slightly and wearily, and sat down languidly on the +sofa: he felt it unpleasant to have dropped in on bad company. +Rostov flushed up on noticing this, but he did not care, this was a +mere stranger. Glancing, however, at Boris, he saw that he too +seemed ashamed of the hussar of the line. + +In spite of Prince Andrew's disagreeable, ironical tone, in spite of +the contempt with which Rostov, from his fighting army point of +view, regarded all these little adjutants on the staff of whom the +newcomer was evidently one, Rostov felt confused, blushed, and +became silent. Boris inquired what news there might be on the staff, +and what, without indiscretion, one might ask about our plans. + +"We shall probably advance," replied Bolkonski, evidently +reluctant to say more in the presence of a stranger. + +Berg took the opportunity to ask, with great politeness, whether, as +was rumored, the allowance of forage money to captains of companies +would be doubled. To this Prince Andrew answered with a smile that +he could give no opinion on such an important government order, and +Berg laughed gaily. + +"As to your business," Prince Andrew continued, addressing Boris, +"we will talk of it later" (and he looked round at Rostov). "Come to +me after the review and we will do what is possible." + +And, having glanced round the room, Prince Andrew turned to +Rostov, whose state of unconquerable childish embarrassment now +changing to anger he did not condescend to notice, and said: "I +think you were talking of the Schon Grabern affair? Were you there?" + +"I was there," said Rostov angrily, as if intending to insult the +aide-de-camp. + +Bolkonski noticed the hussar's state of mind, and it amused him. +With a slightly contemptuous smile, he said: "Yes, there are many +stories now told about that affair!" + +"Yes, stories!" repeated Rostov loudly, looking with eyes suddenly +grown furious, now at Boris, now at Bolkonski. "Yes, many stories! But +our stories are the stories of men who have been under the enemy's +fire! Our stories have some weight, not like the stories of those +fellows on the staff who get rewards without doing anything!" + +"Of whom you imagine me to be one?" said Prince Andrew, with a quiet +and particularly amiable smile. + +A strange feeling of exasperation and yet of respect for this +man's self-possession mingled at that moment in Rostov's soul. + +"I am not talking about you," he said, "I don't know you and, +frankly, I don't want to. I am speaking of the staff in general." + +"And I will tell you this," Prince Andrew interrupted in a tone of +quiet authority, "you wish to insult me, and I am ready to agree +with you that it would be very easy to do so if you haven't sufficient +self-respect, but admit that the time and place are very badly chosen. +In a day or two we shall all have to take part in a greater and more +serious duel, and besides, Drubetskoy, who says he is an old friend of +yours, is not at all to blame that my face has the misfortune to +displease you. However," he added rising, "you know my name and +where to find me, but don't forget that I do not regard either +myself or you as having been at all insulted, and as a man older +than you, my advice is to let the matter drop. Well then, on Friday +after the review I shall expect you, Drubetskoy. Au revoir!" exclaimed +Prince Andrew, and with a bow to them both he went out. + +Only when Prince Andrew was gone did Rostov think of what he ought +to have said. And he was still more angry at having omitted to say it. +He ordered his horse at once and, coldly taking leave of Boris, rode +home. Should he go to headquarters next day and challenge that +affected adjutant, or really let the matter drop, was the question +that worried him all the way. He thought angrily of the pleasure he +would have at seeing the fright of that small and frail but proud +man when covered by his pistol, and then he felt with surprise that of +all the men he knew there was none he would so much like to have for a +friend as that very adjutant whom he so hated. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The day after Rostov had been to see Boris, a review was held of the +Austrian and Russian troops, both those freshly arrived from Russia +and those who had been campaigning under Kutuzov. The two Emperors, +the Russian with his heir the Tsarevich, and the Austrian with the +Archduke, inspected the allied army of eighty thousand men. + +From early morning the smart clean troops were on the move, forming up +on the field before the fortress. Now thousands of feet and bayonets +moved and halted at the officers' command, turned with banners flying, +formed up at intervals, and wheeled round other similar masses of +infantry in different uniforms; now was heard the rhythmic beat of +hoofs and the jingling of showy cavalry in blue, red, and green +braided uniforms, with smartly dressed bandsmen in front mounted on +black, roan, or gray horses; then again, spreading out with the brazen +clatter of the polished shining cannon that quivered on the gun +carriages and with the smell of linstocks, came the artillery which +crawled between the infantry and cavalry and took up its appointed +position. Not only the generals in full parade uniforms, with their +thin or thick waists drawn in to the utmost, their red necks squeezed +into their stiff collars, and wearing scarves and all their +decorations, not only the elegant, pomaded officers, but every soldier +with his freshly washed and shaven face and his weapons clean and +polished to the utmost, and every horse groomed till its coat shone +like satin and every hair of its wetted mane lay smooth--felt that no +small matter was happening, but an important and solemn affair. Every +general and every soldier was conscious of his own insignificance, +aware of being but a drop in that ocean of men, and yet at the same +time was conscious of his strength as a part of that enormous whole. + +From early morning strenuous activities and efforts had begun and by +ten o'clock all had been brought into due order. The ranks were +drawn up on the vast field. The whole army was extended in three +lines: the cavalry in front, behind it the artillery, and behind +that again the infantry. + +A space like a street was left between each two lines of troops. The +three parts of that army were sharply distinguished: Kutuzov's +fighting army (with the Pavlograds on the right flank of the front); +those recently arrived from Russia, both Guards and regiments of the +line; and the Austrian troops. But they all stood in the same lines, +under one command, and in a like order. + +Like wind over leaves ran an excited whisper: "They're coming! +They're coming!" Alarmed voices were heard, and a stir of final +preparation swept over all the troops. + +From the direction of Olmutz in front of them, a group was seen +approaching. And at that moment, though the day was still, a light +gust of wind blowing over the army slightly stirred the streamers on +the lances and the unfolded standards fluttered against their +staffs. It looked as if by that slight motion the army itself was +expressing its joy at the approach of the Emperors. One voice was +heard shouting: "Eyes front!" Then, like the crowing of cocks at +sunrise, this was repeated by others from various sides and all became +silent. + +In the deathlike stillness only the tramp of horses was heard. +This was the Emperors' suites. The Emperors rode up to the flank, +and the trumpets of the first cavalry regiment played the general +march. It seemed as though not the trumpeters were playing, but as +if the army itself, rejoicing at the Emperors' approach, had naturally +burst into music. Amid these sounds, only the youthful kindly voice of +the Emperor Alexander was clearly heard. He gave the words of +greeting, and the first regiment roared "Hurrah!" so deafeningly, +continuously, and joyfully that the men themselves were awed by +their multitude and the immensity of the power they constituted. + +Rostov, standing in the front lines of Kutuzov's army which the Tsar +approached first, experienced the same feeling as every other man in +that army: a feeling of self-forgetfulness, a proud consciousness of +might, and a passionate attraction to him who was the cause of this +triumph. + +He felt that at a single word from that man all this vast mass +(and he himself an insignificant atom in it) would go through fire and +water, commit crime, die, or perform deeds of highest heroism, and +so he could not but tremble and his heart stand still at the imminence +of that word. + +"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" thundered from all sides, one regiment +after another greeting the Tsar with the strains of the march, and +then "Hurrah!"... Then the general march, and again "Hurrah! +Hurrah!" growing ever stronger and fuller and merging into a deafening +roar. + +Till the Tsar reached it, each regiment in its silence and +immobility seemed like a lifeless body, but as soon as he came up it +became alive, its thunder joining the roar of the whole line along +which he had already passed. Through the terrible and deafening roar +of those voices, amid the square masses of troops standing +motionless as if turned to stone, hundreds of riders composing the +suites moved carelessly but symmetrically and above all freely, and in +front of them two men--the Emperors. Upon them the undivided, +tensely passionate attention of that whole mass of men was +concentrated. + +The handsome young Emperor Alexander, in the uniform of the Horse +Guards, wearing a cocked hat with its peaks front and back, with his +pleasant face and resonant though not loud voice, attracted everyone's +attention. + +Rostov was not far from the trumpeters, and with his keen sight +had recognized the Tsar and watched his approach. When he was within +twenty paces, and Nicholas could clearly distinguish every detail of +his handsome, happy young face, he experienced a feeling tenderness +and ecstasy such as he had never before known. Every trait and every +movement of the Tsar's seemed to him enchanting. + +Stopping in front of the Pavlograds, the Tsar said something in +French to the Austrian Emperor and smiled. + +Seeing that smile, Rostov involuntarily smiled himself and felt a +still stronger flow of love for his sovereign. He longed to show +that love in some way and knowing that this was impossible was ready +to cry. The Tsar called the colonel of the regiment and said a few +words to him. + +"Oh God, what would happen to me if the Emperor spoke to me?" +thought Rostov. "I should die of happiness!" + +The Tsar addressed the officers also: "I thank you all, gentlemen, I +thank you with my whole heart." To Rostov every word sounded like a +voice from heaven. How gladly would he have died at once for his Tsar! + +"You have earned the St. George's standards and will be worthy of +them." + +"Oh, to die, to die for him," thought Rostov. + +The Tsar said something more which Rostov did not hear, and the +soldiers, straining their lungs, shouted "Hurrah!" + +Rostov too, bending over his saddle, shouted "Hurrah!" with all +his might, feeling that he would like to injure himself by that shout, +if only to express his rapture fully. + +The Tsar stopped a few minutes in front of the hussars as if +undecided. + +"How can the Emperor be undecided?" thought Rostov, but then even +this indecision appeared to him majestic and enchanting, like +everything else the Tsar did. + +That hesitation lasted only an instant. The Tsar's foot, in the +narrow pointed boot then fashionable, touched the groin of the +bobtailed bay mare he rode, his hand in a white glove gathered up +the reins, and he moved off accompanied by an irregularly swaying +sea of aides-de-camp. Farther and farther he rode away, stopping at +other regiments, till at last only his white plumes were visible to +Rostov from amid the suites that surrounded the Emperors. + +Among the gentlemen of the suite, Rostov noticed Bolkonski, +sitting his horse indolently and carelessly. Rostov recalled their +quarrel of yesterday and the question presented itself whether he +ought or ought not to challenge Bolkonski. "Of course not!" he now +thought. "Is it worth thinking or speaking of it at such a moment? +At a time of such love, such rapture, and such self-sacrifice, what do +any of our quarrels and affronts matter? I love and forgive +everybody now." + +When the Emperor had passed nearly all the regiments, the troops began +a ceremonial march past him, and Rostov on Bedouin, recently purchased +from Denisov, rode past too, at the rear of his squadron--that is, +alone and in full view of the Emperor. + +Before he reached him, Rostov, who was a splendid horseman, +spurred Bedouin twice and successfully put him to the showy trot in +which the animal went when excited. Bending his foaming muzzle to +his chest, his tail extended, Bedouin, as if also conscious of the +Emperor's eye upon him, passed splendidly, lifting his feet with a +high and graceful action, as if flying through the air without +touching the ground. + +Rostov himself, his legs well back and his stomach drawn in and +feeling himself one with his horse, rode past the Emperor with a +frowning but blissful face "like a vewy devil," as Denisov expressed +it. + +"Fine fellows, the Pavlograds!" remarked the Emperor. + +"My God, how happy I should be if he ordered me to leap into the +fire this instant!" thought Rostov. + +When the review was over, the newly arrived officers, and also +Kutuzov's, collected in groups and began to talk about the awards, +about the Austrians and their uniforms, about their lines, about +Bonaparte, and how badly the latter would fare now, especially if +the Essen corps arrived and Prussia took our side. + +But the talk in every group was chiefly about the Emperor Alexander. +His every word and movement was described with ecstasy. + +They all had but one wish: to advance as soon as possible against +the enemy under the Emperor's command. Commanded by the Emperor +himself they could not fail to vanquish anyone, be it whom it might: +so thought Rostov and most of the officers after the review. + +All were then more confident of victory than the winning of two +battles would have made them. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The day after the review, Boris, in his best uniform and with his +comrade Berg's best wishes for success, rode to Olmutz to see +Bolkonski, wishing to profit by his friendliness and obtain for +himself the best post he could--preferably that of adjutant to some +important personage, a position in the army which seemed to him most +attractive. "It is all very well for Rostov, whose father sends him +ten thousand rubles at a time, to talk about not wishing to cringe +to anybody and not be anyone's lackey, but I who have nothing but my +brains have to make a career and must not miss opportunities, but must +avail myself of them!" he reflected. + +He did not find Prince Andrew in Olmutz that day, but the appearance +of the town where the headquarters and the diplomatic corps were +stationed and the two Emperors were living with their suites, +households, and courts only strengthened his desire to belong to +that higher world. + +He knew no one, and despite his smart Guardsman's uniform, all these +exalted personages passing in the streets in their elegant carriages +with their plumes, ribbons, and medals, both courtiers and military +men, seemed so immeasurably above him, an insignificant officer of the +Guards, that they not only did not wish to, but simply could not, be +aware of his existence. At the quarters of the commander in chief, +Kutuzov, where he inquired for Bolkonski, all the adjutants and even +the orderlies looked at him as if they wished to impress on him that a +great many officers like him were always coming there and that +everybody was heartily sick of them. In spite of this, or rather +because of it, next day, November 15, after dinner he again went to +Olmutz and, entering the house occupied by Kutuzov, asked for +Bolkonski. Prince Andrew was in and Boris was shown into a large +hall probably formerly used for dancing, but in which five beds now +stood, and furniture of various kinds: a table, chairs, and a +clavichord. One adjutant, nearest the door, was sitting at the table +in a Persian dressing gown, writing. Another, the red, stout +Nesvitski, lay on a bed with his arms under his head, laughing with an +officer who had sat down beside him. A third was playing a Viennese +waltz on the clavichord, while a fourth, lying on the clavichord, sang +the tune. Bolkonski was not there. None of these gentlemen changed his +position on seeing Boris. The one who was writing and whom Boris +addressed turned round crossly and told him Bolkonski was on duty +and that he should go through the door on the left into the +reception room if he wished to see him. Boris thanked him and went +to the reception room, where he found some ten officers and generals. + +When he entered, Prince Andrew, his eyes drooping contemptuously +(with that peculiar expression of polite weariness which plainly says, +"If it were not my duty I would not talk to you for a moment"), was +listening to an old Russian general with decorations, who stood very +erect, almost on tiptoe, with a soldier's obsequious expression on his +purple face, reporting something. + +"Very well, then, be so good as to wait," said Prince Andrew to +the general, in Russian, speaking with the French intonation he +affected when he wished to speak contemptuously, and noticing Boris, +Prince Andrew, paying no more heed to the general who ran after him +imploring him to hear something more, nodded and turned to him with +a cheerful smile. + +At that moment Boris clearly realized what he had before surmised, +that in the army, besides the subordination and discipline +prescribed in the military code, which he and the others knew in the +regiment, there was another, more important, subordination, which made +this tight-laced, purple-faced general wait respectfully while Captain +Prince Andrew, for his own pleasure, chose to chat with Lieutenant +Drubetskoy. More than ever was Boris resolved to serve in future not +according to the written code, but under this unwritten law. He felt +now that merely by having been recommended to Prince Andrew he had +already risen above the general who at the front had the power to +annihilate him, a lieutenant of the Guards. Prince Andrew came up to +him and took his hand. + +"I am very sorry you did not find me in yesterday. I was fussing +about with Germans all day. We went with Weyrother to survey the +dispositions. When Germans start being accurate, there's no end to +it!" + +Boris smiled, as if he understood what Prince Andrew was alluding to +as something generally known. But it was the first time he had heard +Weyrother's name, or even the term "dispositions." + +"Well, my dear fellow, so you still want to be an adjutant? I have +been thinking about you." + +"Yes, I was thinking"--for some reason Boris could not help +blushing--"of asking the commander in chief. He has had a letter +from Prince Kuragin about me. I only wanted to ask because I fear +the Guards won't be in action," he added as if in apology. + +"All right, all right. We'll talk it over," replied Prince Andrew. +"Only let me report this gentleman's business, and I shall be at +your disposal." + +While Prince Andrew went to report about the purple-faced general, +that gentleman--evidently not sharing Boris' conception of the +advantages of the unwritten code of subordination--looked so fixedly +at the presumptuous lieutenant who had prevented his finishing what he +had to say to the adjutant that Boris felt uncomfortable. He turned +away and waited impatiently for Prince Andrew's return from the +commander in chief's room. + +"You see, my dear fellow, I have been thinking about you," said +Prince Andrew when they had gone into the large room where the +clavichord was. "It's no use your going to the commander in chief. +He would say a lot of pleasant things, ask you to dinner" ("That would +not be bad as regards the unwritten code," thought Boris), "but +nothing more would come of it. There will soon be a battalion of us +aides-de-camp and adjutants! But this is what we'll do: I have a +good friend, an adjutant general and an excellent fellow, Prince +Dolgorukov; and though you may not know it, the fact is that now +Kutuzov with his staff and all of us count for nothing. Everything +is now centered round the Emperor. So we will go to Dolgorukov; I have +to go there anyhow and I have already spoken to him about you. We +shall see whether he cannot attach you to himself or find a place +for you somewhere nearer the sun." + +Prince Andrew always became specially keen when he had to guide a +young man and help him to worldly success. Under cover of obtaining +help of this kind for another, which from pride he would never +accept for himself, he kept in touch with the circle which confers +success and which attracted him. He very readily took up Boris' +cause and went with him to Dolgorukov. + +It was late in the evening when they entered the palace at Olmutz +occupied by the Emperors and their retinues. + +That same day a council of war had been held in which all the +members of the Hofkriegsrath and both Emperors took part. At that +council, contrary to the views of the old generals Kutuzov and +Prince Schwartzenberg, it had been decided to advance immediately +and give battle to Bonaparte. The council of war was just over when +Prince Andrew accompanied by Boris arrived at the palace to find +Dolgorukov. Everyone at headquarters was still under the spell of +the day's council, at which the party of the young had triumphed. +The voices of those who counseled delay and advised waiting for +something else before advancing had been so completely silenced and +their arguments confuted by such conclusive evidence of the advantages +of attacking that what had been discussed at the council--the coming +battle and the victory that would certainly result from it--no +longer seemed to be in the future but in the past. All the +advantages were on our side. Our enormous forces, undoubtedly superior +to Napoleon's, were concentrated in one place, the troops inspired +by the Emperors' presence were eager for action. The strategic +position where the operations would take place was familiar in all its +details to the Austrian General Weyrother: a lucky accident had +ordained that the Austrian army should maneuver the previous year on +the very fields where the French had now to be fought; the adjacent +locality was known and shown in every detail on the maps, and +Bonaparte, evidently weakened, was undertaking nothing. + +Dolgorukov, one of the warmest advocates of an attack, had just +returned from the council, tired and exhausted but eager and proud +of the victory that had been gained. Prince Andrew introduced his +protege, but Prince Dolgorukov politely and firmly pressing his hand +said nothing to Boris and, evidently unable to suppress the thoughts +which were uppermost in his mind at that moment, addressed Prince +Andrew in French. + +"Ah, my dear fellow, what a battle we have gained! God grant that +the one that will result from it will be as victorious! However, +dear fellow," he said abruptly and eagerly, "I must confess to +having been unjust to the Austrians and especially to Weyrother. +What exactitude, what minuteness, what knowledge of the locality, what +foresight for every eventuality, every possibility even to the +smallest detail! No, my dear fellow, no conditions better than our +present ones could have been devised. This combination of Austrian +precision with Russian valor--what more could be wished for?" + +"So the attack is definitely resolved on?" asked Bolkonski. + +"And do you know, my dear fellow, it seems to me that Bonaparte +has decidedly lost bearings, you know that a letter was received +from him today for the Emperor." Dolgorukov smiled significantly. + +"Is that so? And what did he say?" inquired Bolkonski. + +"What can he say? Tra-di-ri-di-ra and so on... merely to gain +time. I tell you he is in our hands, that's certain! But what was most +amusing," he continued, with a sudden, good-natured laugh, "was that +we could not think how to address the reply! If not as 'Consul' and of +course not as 'Emperor,' it seemed to me it should be to 'General +Bonaparte.'" + +"But between not recognizing him as Emperor and calling him +General Bonaparte, there is a difference," remarked Bolkonski. + +"That's just it," interrupted Dolgorukov quickly, laughing. "You +know Bilibin--he's a very clever fellow. He suggested addressing him +as 'Usurper and Enemy of Mankind.'" + +Dolgorukov laughed merrily. + +"Only that?" said Bolkonski. + +"All the same, it was Bilibin who found a suitable form for the +address. He is a wise and clever fellow." + +"What was it?" + +"To the Head of the French Government... Au chef du gouvernement +francais," said Dolgorukov, with grave satisfaction. "Good, wasn't +it?" + +"Yes, but he will dislike it extremely," said Bolkonski. + +"Oh yes, very much! My brother knows him, he's dined with him--the +present Emperor--more than once in Paris, and tells me he never met +a more cunning or subtle diplomatist--you know, a combination of +French adroitness and Italian play-acting! Do you know the tale +about him and Count Markov? Count Markov was the only man who knew how +to handle him. You know the story of the handkerchief? It is +delightful!" + +And the talkative Dolgorukov, turning now to Boris, now to Prince +Andrew, told how Bonaparte wishing to test Markov, our ambassador, +purposely dropped a handkerchief in front of him and stood looking +at Markov, probably expecting Markov to pick it up for him, and how +Markov immediately dropped his own beside it and picked it up +without touching Bonaparte's. + +"Delightful!" said Bolkonski. "But I have come to you, Prince, as +a petitioner on behalf of this young man. You see..." but before +Prince Andrew could finish, an aide-de-camp came in to summon +Dolgorukov to the Emperor. + +"Oh, what a nuisance," said Dolgorukov, getting up hurriedly and +pressing the hands of Prince Andrew and Boris. "You know I should be +very glad to do all in my power both for you and for this dear young +man." Again he pressed the hand of the latter with an expression of +good-natured, sincere, and animated levity. "But you see... another +time!" + +Boris was excited by the thought of being so close to the higher +powers as he felt himself to be at that moment. He was conscious +that here he was in contact with the springs that set in motion the +enormous movements of the mass of which in his regiment he felt +himself a tiny, obedient, and insignificant atom. They followed Prince +Dolgorukov out into the corridor and met--coming out of the door of +the Emperor's room by which Dolgorukov had entered--a short man in +civilian clothes with a clever face and sharply projecting jaw +which, without spoiling his face, gave him a peculiar vivacity and +shiftiness of expression. This short man nodded to Dolgorukov as to an +intimate friend and stared at Prince Andrew with cool intensity, +walking straight toward him and evidently expecting him to bow or to +step out of his way. Prince Andrew did neither: a look of animosity +appeared on his face and the other turned away and went down the +side of the corridor. + +"Who was that?" asked Boris. + +"He is one of the most remarkable, but to me most unpleasant of +men--the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Prince Adam Czartoryski.... It +is such men as he who decide the fate of nations," added Bolkonski +with a sigh he could not suppress, as they passed out of the palace. + +Next day, the army began its campaign, and up to the very battle +of Austerlitz, Boris was unable to see either Prince Andrew or +Dolgorukov again and remained for a while with the Ismaylov regiment. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +At dawn on the sixteenth of November, Denisov's squadron, in which +Nicholas Rostov served and which was in Prince Bagration's detachment, +moved from the place where it had spent the night, advancing into +action as arranged, and after going behind other columns for about two +thirds of a mile was stopped on the highroad. Rostov saw the +Cossacks and then the first and second squadrons of hussars and +infantry battalions and artillery pass by and go forward and then +Generals Bagration and Dolgorukov ride past with their adjutants. +All the fear before action which he had experienced as previously, all +the inner struggle to conquer that fear, all his dreams of +distinguishing himself as a true hussar in this battle, had been +wasted. Their squadron remained in reserve and Nicholas Rostov spent +that day in a dull and wretched mood. At nine in the morning, he heard +firing in front and shouts of hurrah, and saw wounded being brought +back (there were not many of them), and at last he saw how a whole +detachment of French cavalry was brought in, convoyed by a sotnya +of Cossacks. Evidently the affair was over and, though not big, had +been a successful engagement. The men and officers returning spoke +of a brilliant victory, of the occupation of the town of Wischau and +the capture of a whole French squadron. The day was bright and sunny +after a sharp night frost, and the cheerful glitter of that autumn day +was in keeping with the news of victory which was conveyed, not only +by the tales of those who had taken part in it, but also by the joyful +expression on the faces of soldiers, officers, generals, and +adjutants, as they passed Rostov going or coming. And Nicholas, who +had vainly suffered all the dread that precedes a battle and had spent +that happy day in inactivity, was all the more depressed. + +"Come here, Wostov. Let's dwink to dwown our gwief!" shouted +Denisov, who had settled down by the roadside with a flask and some +food. + +The officers gathered round Denisov's canteen, eating and talking. + +"There! They are bringing another!" cried one of the officers, +indicating a captive French dragoon who was being brought in on foot +by two Cossacks. + +One of them was leading by the bridle a fine large French horse he +had taken from the prisoner. + +"Sell us that horse!" Denisov called out to the Cossacks. + +"If you like, your honor!" + +The officers got up and stood round the Cossacks and their prisoner. +The French dragoon was a young Alsatian who spoke French with a German +accent. He was breathless with agitation, his face was red, and when +he heard some French spoken he at once began speaking to the officers, +addressing first one, then another. He said he would not have been +taken, it was not his fault but the corporal's who had sent him to +seize some horsecloths, though he had told him the Russians were +there. And at every word he added: "But don't hurt my little horse!" +and stroked the animal. It was plain that he did not quite grasp where +he was. Now he excused himself for having been taken prisoner and now, +imagining himself before his own officers, insisted on his soldierly +discipline and zeal in the service. He brought with him into our +rearguard all the freshness of atmosphere of the French army, which +was so alien to us. + +The Cossacks sold the horse for two gold pieces, and Rostov, being +the richest of the officers now that he had received his money, bought +it. + +"But don't hurt my little horse!" said the Alsatian good-naturedly +to Rostov when the animal was handed over to the hussar. + +Rostov smilingly reassured the dragoon and gave him money. + +"Alley! Alley!" said the Cossack, touching the prisoner's arm to +make him go on. + +"The Emperor! The Emperor!" was suddenly heard among the hussars. + +All began to run and bustle, and Rostov saw coming up the road +behind him several riders with white plumes in their hats. In a moment +everyone was in his place, waiting. + +Rostov did not know or remember how he ran to his place and mounted. +Instantly his regret at not having been in action and his dejected +mood amid people of whom he was weary had gone, instantly every +thought of himself had vanished. He was filled with happiness at his +nearness to the Emperor. He felt that this nearness by itself made +up to him for the day he had lost. He was happy as a lover when the +longed-for moment of meeting arrives. Not daring to look round and +without looking round, he was ecstatically conscious of his +approach. He felt it not only from the sound of the hoofs of the +approaching cavalcade, but because as he drew near everything grew +brighter, more joyful, more significant, and more festive around +him. Nearer and nearer to Rostov came that sun shedding beams of +mild and majestic light around, and already he felt himself +enveloped in those beams, he heard his voice, that kindly, calm, and +majestic voice that was yet so simple! And as if in accord with +Rostov's feeling, there was a deathly stillness amid which was heard +the Emperor's voice. + +"The Pavlograd hussars?" he inquired. + +"The reserves, sire!" replied a voice, a very human one compared +to that which had said: "The Pavlograd hussars?" + +The Emperor drew level with Rostov and halted. Alexander's face +was even more beautiful than it had been three days before at the +review. It shone with such gaiety and youth, such innocent youth, that +it suggested the liveliness of a fourteen-year-old boy, and yet it was +the face of the majestic Emperor. Casually, while surveying the +squadron, the Emperor's eyes met Rostov's and rested on them for not +more than two seconds. Whether or no the Emperor understood what was +going on in Rostov's soul (it seemed to Rostov that he understood +everything), at any rate his light-blue eyes gazed for about two +seconds into Rostov's face. A gentle, mild light poured from them. +Then all at once he raised his eyebrows, abruptly touched his horse +with his left foot, and galloped on. + +The younger Emperor could not restrain his wish to be present at the +battle and, in spite of the remonstrances of his courtiers, at +twelve o'clock left the third column with which he had been and +galloped toward the vanguard. Before he came up with the hussars, +several adjutants met him with news of the successful result of the +action. + +This battle, which consisted in the capture of a French squadron, +was represented as a brilliant victory over the French, and so the +Emperor and the whole army, especially while the smoke hung over the +battlefield, believed that the French had been defeated and were +retreating against their will. A few minutes after the Emperor had +passed, the Pavlograd division was ordered to advance. In Wischau +itself, a petty German town, Rostov saw the Emperor again. In the +market place, where there had been some rather heavy firing before the +Emperor's arrival, lay several killed and wounded soldiers whom +there had not been time to move. The Emperor, surrounded by his +suite of officers and courtiers, was riding a bobtailed chestnut mare, +a different one from that which he had ridden at the review, and +bending to one side he gracefully held a gold lorgnette to his eyes +and looked at a soldier who lay prone, with blood on his uncovered +head. The wounded soldier was so dirty, coarse, and revolting that his +proximity to the Emperor shocked Rostov. Rostov saw how the +Emperor's rather round shoulders shuddered as if a cold shiver had run +down them, how his left foot began convulsively tapping the horse's +side with the spur, and how the well-trained horse looked round +unconcerned and did not stir. An adjutant, dismounting, lifted the +soldier under the arms to place him on a stretcher that had been +brought. The soldier groaned. + +"Gently, gently! Can't you do it more gently?" said the Emperor +apparently suffering more than the dying soldier, and he rode away. + +Rostov saw tears filling the Emperor's eyes and heard him, as he was +riding away, say to Czartoryski: "What a terrible thing war is: what a +terrible thing! Quelle terrible chose que la guerre!" + +The troops of the vanguard were stationed before Wischau, within +sight of the enemy's lines, which all day long had yielded ground to +us at the least firing. The Emperor's gratitude was announced to the +vanguard, rewards were promised, and the men received a double +ration of vodka. The campfires crackled and the soldiers' songs +resounded even more merrily than on the previous night. Denisov +celebrated his promotion to the rank of major, and Rostov, who had +already drunk enough, at the end of the feast proposed the Emperor's +health. "Not 'our Sovereign, the Emperor,' as they say at official +dinners," said he, "but the health of our Sovereign, that good, +enchanting, and great man! Let us drink to his health and to the +certain defeat of the French!" + +"If we fought before," he said, "not letting the French pass, as +at Schon Grabern, what shall we not do now when he is at the front? We +will all die for him gladly! Is it not so, gentlemen? Perhaps I am not +saying it right, I have drunk a good deal--but that is how I feel, and +so do you too! To the health of Alexander the First! Hurrah!" + +"Hurrah!" rang the enthusiastic voices of the officers. + +And the old cavalry captain, Kirsten, shouted enthusiastically and +no less sincerely than the twenty-year-old Rostov. + +When the officers had emptied and smashed their glasses, Kirsten +filled others and, in shirt sleeves and breeches, went glass in hand +to the soldiers' bonfires and with his long gray mustache, his white +chest showing under his open shirt, he stood in a majestic pose in the +light of the campfire, waving his uplifted arm. + +"Lads! here's to our Sovereign, the Emperor, and victory over our +enemies! Hurrah!" he exclaimed in his dashing, old, hussar's baritone. + +The hussars crowded round and responded heartily with loud shouts. + +Late that night, when all had separated, Denisov with his short hand +patted his favorite, Rostov, on the shoulder. + +"As there's no one to fall in love with on campaign, he's fallen +in love with the Tsar," he said. + +"Denisov, don't make fun of it!" cried Rostov. "It is such a +lofty, beautiful feeling, such a..." + +"I believe it, I believe it, fwiend, and I share and appwove..." + +"No, you don't understand!" + +And Rostov got up and went wandering among the campfires, dreaming +of what happiness it would be to die--not in saving the Emperor's life +(he did not even dare to dream of that), but simply to die before +his eyes. He really was in love with the Tsar and the glory of the +Russian arms and the hope of future triumph. And he was not the only +man to experience that feeling during those memorable days preceding +the battle of Austerlitz: nine tenths of the men in the Russian army +were then in love, though less ecstatically, with their Tsar and the +glory of the Russian arms. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +The next day the Emperor stopped at Wischau, and Villier, his +physician, was repeatedly summoned to see him. At headquarters and +among the troops near by the news spread that the Emperor was +unwell. He ate nothing and had slept badly that night, those around +him reported. The cause of this indisposition was the strong +impression made on his sensitive mind by the sight of the killed and +wounded. + +At daybreak on the seventeenth, a French officer who had come with a +flag of truce, demanding an audience with the Russian Emperor, was +brought into Wischau from our outposts. This officer was Savary. The +Emperor had only just fallen asleep and so Savary had to wait. At +midday he was admitted to the Emperor, and an hour later he rode off +with Prince Dolgorukov to the advanced post of the French army. + +It was rumored that Savary had been sent to propose to Alexander a +meeting with Napoleon. To the joy and pride of the whole army, a +personal interview was refused, and instead of the Sovereign, Prince +Dolgorukov, the victor at Wischau, was sent with Savary to negotiate +with Napoleon if, contrary to expectations, these negotiations were +actuated by a real desire for peace. + +Toward evening Dolgorukov came back, went straight to the Tsar, +and remained alone with him for a long time. + +On the eighteenth and nineteenth of November, the army advanced +two days' march and the enemy's outposts after a brief interchange +of shots retreated. In the highest army circles from midday on the +nineteenth, a great, excitedly bustling activity began which lasted +till the morning of the twentieth, when the memorable battle of +Austerlitz was fought. + +Till midday on the nineteenth, the activity--the eager talk, running +to and fro, and dispatching of adjutants--was confined to the +Emperor's headquarters. But on the afternoon of that day, this +activity reached Kutuzov's headquarters and the staffs of the +commanders of columns. By evening, the adjutants had spread it to +all ends and parts of the army, and in the night from the nineteenth +to the twentieth, the whole eighty thousand allied troops rose from +their bivouacs to the hum of voices, and the army swayed and started +in one enormous mass six miles long. + +The concentrated activity which had begun at the Emperor's +headquarters in the morning and had started the whole movement that +followed was like the first movement of the main wheel of a large +tower clock. One wheel slowly moved, another was set in motion, and +a third, and wheels began to revolve faster and faster, levers and +cogwheels to work, chimes to play, figures to pop out, and the hands +to advance with regular motion as a result of all that activity. + +Just as in the mechanism of a clock, so in the mechanism of the +military machine, an impulse once given leads to the final result; and +just as indifferently quiescent till the moment when motion is +transmitted to them are the parts of the mechanism which the impulse +has not yet reached. Wheels creak on their axles as the cogs engage +one another and the revolving pulleys whirr with the rapidity of their +movement, but a neighboring wheel is as quiet and motionless as though +it were prepared to remain so for a hundred years; but the moment +comes when the lever catches it and obeying the impulse that wheel +begins to creak and joins in the common motion the result and aim of +which are beyond its ken. + +Just as in a clock, the result of the complicated motion of +innumerable wheels and pulleys is merely a slow and regular movement +of the hands which show the time, so the result of all the complicated +human activities of 160,000 Russians and French--all their passions, +desires, remorse, humiliations, sufferings, outbursts of pride, +fear, and enthusiasm--was only the loss of the battle of Austerlitz, +the so-called battle of the three Emperors--that is to say, a slow +movement of the hand on the dial of human history. + +Prince Andrew was on duty that day and in constant attendance on the +commander in chief. + +At six in the evening, Kutuzov went to the Emperor's headquarters +and after staying but a short time with the Tsar went to see the grand +marshal of the court, Count Tolstoy. + +Bolkonski took the opportunity to go in to get some details of the +coming action from Dolgorukov. He felt that Kutuzov was upset and +dissatisfied about something and that at headquarters they were +dissatisfied with him, and also that at the Emperor's headquarters +everyone adopted toward him the tone of men who know something +others do not know: he therefore wished to speak to Dolgorukov. + +"Well, how d'you do, my dear fellow?" said Dolgorukov, who was +sitting at tea with Bilibin. "The fete is for tomorrow. How is your +old fellow? Out of sorts?" + +"I won't say he is out of sorts, but I fancy he would like to be +heard." + +"But they heard him at the council of war and will hear him when +he talks sense, but to temporize and wait for something now when +Bonaparte fears nothing so much as a general battle is impossible." + +"Yes, you have seen him?" said Prince Andrew. "Well, what is +Bonaparte like? How did he impress you?" + +"Yes, I saw him, and am convinced that he fears nothing so much as a +general engagement," repeated Dolgorukov, evidently prizing this +general conclusion which he had arrived at from his interview with +Napoleon. "If he weren't afraid of a battle why did he ask for that +interview? Why negotiate, and above all why retreat, when to retreat +is so contrary to his method of conducting war? Believe me, he is +afraid, afraid of a general battle. His hour has come! Mark my words!" + +"But tell me, what is he like, eh?" said Prince Andrew again. + +"He is a man in a gray overcoat, very anxious that I should call him +'Your Majesty,' but who, to his chagrin, got no title from me! +That's the sort of man he is, and nothing more," replied Dolgorukov, +looking round at Bilibin with a smile. + +"Despite my great respect for old Kutuzov," he continued, "we should +be a nice set of fellows if we were to wait about and so give him a +chance to escape, or to trick us, now that we certainly have him in +our hands! No, we mustn't forget Suvorov and his rule--not to put +yourself in a position to be attacked, but yourself to attack. Believe +me in war the energy of young men often shows the way better than +all the experience of old Cunctators." + +"But in what position are we going to attack him? I have been at the +outposts today and it is impossible to say where his chief forces +are situated," said Prince Andrew. + +He wished to explain to Dolgorukov a plan of attack he had himself +formed. + +"Oh, that is all the same," Dolgorukov said quickly, and getting +up he spread a map on the table. "All eventualities have been +foreseen. If he is standing before Brunn..." + +And Prince Dolgorukov rapidly but indistinctly explained Weyrother's +plan of a flanking movement. + +Prince Andrew began to reply and to state his own plan, which +might have been as good as Weyrother's, but for the disadvantage +that Weyrother's had already been approved. As soon as Prince Andrew +began to demonstrate the defects of the latter and the merits of his +own plan, Prince Dolgorukov ceased to listen to him and gazed +absent-mindedly not at the map, but at Prince Andrew's face. + +"There will be a council of war at Kutuzov's tonight, though; you +can say all this there," remarked Dolgorukov. + +"I will do so," said Prince Andrew, moving away from the map. + +"Whatever are you bothering about, gentlemen?" said Bilibin, who, +till then, had listened with an amused smile to their conversation and +now was evidently ready with a joke. "Whether tomorrow brings +victory or defeat, the glory of our Russian arms is secure. Except +your Kutuzov, there is not a single Russian in command of a column! +The commanders are: Herr General Wimpfen, le Comte de Langeron, le +Prince de Lichtenstein, le Prince, de Hohenlohe, and finally +Prishprish, and so on like all those Polish names." + +"Be quiet, backbiter!" said Dolgorukov. "It is not true; there are +now two Russians, Miloradovich, and Dokhturov, and there would be a +third, Count Arakcheev, if his nerves were not too weak." + +"However, I think General Kutuzov has come out," said Prince Andrew. +"I wish you good luck and success, gentlemen!" he added and went out +after shaking hands with Dolgorukov and Bilibin. + +On the way home, Prince Andrew could not refrain from asking +Kutuzov, who was sitting silently beside him, what he thought of +tomorrow's battle. + +Kutuzov looked sternly at his adjutant and, after a pause, +replied: "I think the battle will be lost, and so I told Count Tolstoy +and asked him to tell the Emperor. What do you think he replied? 'But, +my dear general, I am engaged with rice and cutlets, look after +military matters yourself!' Yes... That was the answer I got!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Shortly after nine o'clock that evening, Weyrother drove with his +plans to Kutuzov's quarters where the council of war was to be held. +All the commanders of columns were summoned to the commander in +chief's and with the exception of Prince Bagration, who declined to +come, were all there at the appointed time. + +Weyrother, who was in full control of the proposed battle, by his +eagerness and briskness presented a marked contrast to the +dissatisfied and drowsy Kutuzov, who reluctantly played the part of +chairman and president of the council of war. Weyrother evidently felt +himself to be at the head of a movement that had already become +unrestrainable. He was like a horse running downhill harnessed to a +heavy cart. Whether he was pulling it or being pushed by it he did not +know, but rushed along at headlong speed with no time to consider what +this movement might lead to. Weyrother had been twice that evening +to the enemy's picket line to reconnoiter personally, and twice to the +Emperors, Russian and Austrian, to report and explain, and to his +headquarters where he had dictated the dispositions in German, and +now, much exhausted, he arrived at Kutuzov's. + +He was evidently so busy that he even forgot to be polite to the +commander in chief. He interrupted him, talked rapidly and +indistinctly, without looking at the man he was addressing, and did +not reply to questions put to him. He was bespattered with mud and had +a pitiful, weary, and distracted air, though at the same time he was +haughty and self-confident. + +Kutuzov was occupying a nobleman's castle of modest dimensions +near Ostralitz. In the large drawing room which had become the +commander in chief's office were gathered Kutuzov himself, +Weyrother, and the members of the council of war. They were drinking +tea, and only awaited Prince Bagration to begin the council. At last +Bagration's orderly came with the news that the prince could not +attend. Prince Andrew came in to inform the commander in chief of this +and, availing himself of permission previously given him by Kutuzov to +be present at the council, he remained in the room. + +"Since Prince Bagration is not coming, we may begin," said +Weyrother, hurriedly rising from his seat and going up to the table on +which an enormous map of the environs of Brunn was spread out. + +Kutuzov, with his uniform unbuttoned so that his fat neck bulged +over his collar as if escaping, was sitting almost asleep in a low +chair, with his podgy old hands resting symmetrically on its arms. +At the sound of Weyrother's voice, he opened his one eye with an +effort. + +"Yes, yes, if you please! It is already late," said he, and +nodding his head he let it droop and again closed his eye. + +If at first the members of the council thought that Kutuzov was +pretending to sleep, the sounds his nose emitted during the reading +that followed proved that the commander in chief at that moment was +absorbed by a far more serious matter than a desire to show his +contempt for the dispositions or anything else--he was engaged in +satisfying the irresistible human need for sleep. He really was +asleep. Weyrother, with the gesture of a man too busy to lose a +moment, glanced at Kutuzov and, having convinced himself that he was +asleep, took up a paper and in a loud, monotonous voice began to +read out the dispositions for the impending battle, under a heading +which he also read out: + +"Dispositions for an attack on the enemy position behind Kobelnitz +and Sokolnitz, November 30, 1805." + +The dispositions were very complicated and difficult. They began +as follows: + +"As the enemy's left wing rests on wooded hills and his right +extends along Kobelnitz and Sokolnitz behind the ponds that are there, +while we, on the other hand, with our left wing by far outflank his +right, it is advantageous to attack the enemy's latter wing especially +if we occupy the villages of Sokolnitz and Kobelnitz, whereby we can +both fall on his flank and pursue him over the plain between +Schlappanitz and the Thuerassa forest, avoiding the defiles of +Schlappanitz and Bellowitz which cover the enemy's front. For this +object it is necessary that... The first column marches... The +second column marches... The third column marches..." and so on, +read Weyrother. + +The generals seemed to listen reluctantly to the difficult +dispositions. The tall, fair-haired General Buxhowden stood, leaning +his back against the wall, his eyes fixed on a burning candle, and +seemed not to listen or even to wish to be thought to listen. +Exactly opposite Weyrother, with his glistening wide-open eyes fixed +upon him and his mustache twisted upwards, sat the ruddy +Miloradovich in a military pose, his elbows turned outwards, his hands +on his knees, and his shoulders raised. He remained stubbornly silent, +gazing at Weyrother's face, and only turned away his eyes when the +Austrian chief of staff finished reading. Then Miloradovich looked +round significantly at the other generals. But one could not tell from +that significant look whether he agreed or disagreed and was satisfied +or not with the arrangements. Next to Weyrother sat Count Langeron +who, with a subtle smile that never left his typically southern French +face during the whole time of the reading, gazed at his delicate +fingers which rapidly twirled by its corners a gold snuffbox on +which was a portrait. In the middle of one of the longest sentences, +he stopped the rotary motion of the snuffbox, raised his head, and +with inimical politeness lurking in the corners of his thin lips +interrupted Weyrother, wishing to say something. But the Austrian +general, continuing to read, frowned angrily and jerked his elbows, as +if to say: "You can tell me your views later, but now be so good as to +look at the map and listen." Langeron lifted his eyes with an +expression of perplexity, turned round to Miloradovich as if seeking +an explanation, but meeting the latter's impressive but meaningless +gaze drooped his eyes sadly and again took to twirling his snuffbox. + +"A geography lesson!" he muttered as if to himself, but loud +enough to be heard. + +Przebyszewski, with respectful but dignified politeness, held his +hand to his ear toward Weyrother, with the air of a man absorbed in +attention. Dohkturov, a little man, sat opposite Weyrother, with an +assiduous and modest mien, and stooping over the outspread map +conscientiously studied the dispositions and the unfamiliar +locality. He asked Weyrother several times to repeat words he had +not clearly heard and the difficult names of villages. Weyrother +complied and Dohkturov noted them down. + +When the reading which lasted more than an hour was over, Langeron +again brought his snuffbox to rest and, without looking at Weyrother +or at anyone in particular, began to say how difficult it was to carry +out such a plan in which the enemy's position was assumed to be known, +whereas it was perhaps not known, since the enemy was in movement. +Langeron's objections were valid but it was obvious that their chief +aim was to show General Weyrother--who had read his dispositions with +as much self-confidence as if he were addressing school children--that +he had to do, not with fools, but with men who could teach him +something in military matters. + +When the monotonous sound of Weyrother's voice ceased, Kutuzov +opened his eye as a miller wakes up when the soporific drone of the +mill wheel is interrupted. He listened to what Langeron said, as if +remarking, "So you are still at that silly business!" quickly closed +his eye again, and let his head sink still lower. + +Langeron, trying as virulently as possible to sting Weyrother's +vanity as author of the military plan, argued that Bonaparte might +easily attack instead of being attacked, and so render the whole of +this plan perfectly worthless. Weyrother met all objections with a +firm and contemptuous smile, evidently prepared beforehand to meet all +objections be they what they might. + +"If he could attack us, he would have done so today," said he. + +"So you think he is powerless?" said Langeron. + +"He has forty thousand men at most," replied Weyrother, with the +smile of a doctor to whom an old wife wishes to explain the +treatment of a case. + +"In that case he is inviting his doom by awaiting our attack," +said Langeron, with a subtly ironical smile, again glancing round +for support to Miloradovich who was near him. + +But Miloradovich was at that moment evidently thinking of anything +rather than of what the generals were disputing about. + +"Ma foi!" said he, "tomorrow we shall see all that on the +battlefield." + +Weyrother again gave that smile which seemed to say that to him it +was strange and ridiculous to meet objections from Russian generals +and to have to prove to them what he had not merely convinced +himself of, but had also convinced the sovereign Emperors of. + +"The enemy has quenched his fires and a continual noise is heard +from his camp," said he. "What does that mean? Either he is +retreating, which is the only thing we need fear, or he is changing +his position." (He smiled ironically.) "But even if he also took up +a position in the Thuerassa, he merely saves us a great deal of +trouble and all our arrangements to the minutest detail remain the +same." + +"How is that?..." began Prince Andrew, who had for long been waiting +an opportunity to express his doubts. + +Kutuzov here woke up, coughed heavily, and looked round at the +generals. + +"Gentlemen, the dispositions for tomorrow--or rather for today, +for it is past midnight--cannot now be altered," said he. "You have +heard them, and we shall all do our duty. But before a battle, there +is nothing more important..." he paused, "than to have a good sleep." + +He moved as if to rise. The generals bowed and retired. It was +past midnight. Prince Andrew went out. + + +The council of war, at which Prince Andrew had not been able to +express his opinion as he had hoped to, left on him a vague and uneasy +impression. Whether Dolgorukov and Weyrother, or Kutuzov, Langeron, +and the others who did not approve of the plan of attack, were +right--he did not know. "But was it really not possible for Kutuzov to +state his views plainly to the Emperor? Is it possible that on account +of court and personal considerations tens of thousands of lives, and +my life, my life," he thought, "must be risked?" + +"Yes, it is very likely that I shall be killed tomorrow," he +thought. And suddenly, at this thought of death, a whole series of +most distant, most intimate, memories rose in his imagination: he +remembered his last parting from his father and his wife; he +remembered the days when he first loved her. He thought of her +pregnancy and felt sorry for her and for himself, and in a nervously +emotional and softened mood he went out of the hut in which he was +billeted with Nesvitski and began to walk up and down before it. + +The night was foggy and through the fog the moonlight gleamed +mysteriously. "Yes, tomorrow, tomorrow!" he thought. "Tomorrow +everything may be over for me! All these memories will be no more, +none of them will have any meaning for me. Tomorrow perhaps, even +certainly, I have a presentiment that for the first time I shall have +to show all I can do." And his fancy pictured the battle, its loss, +the concentration of fighting at one point, and the hesitation of all +the commanders. And then that happy moment, that Toulon for which he +had so long waited, presents itself to him at last. He firmly and +clearly expresses his opinion to Kutuzov, to Weyrother, and to the +Emperors. All are struck by the justness of his views, but no one +undertakes to carry them out, so he takes a regiment, a +division-stipulates that no one is to interfere with his +arrangements--leads his division to the decisive point, and gains the +victory alone. "But death and suffering?" suggested another voice. +Prince Andrew, however, did not answer that voice and went on dreaming +of his triumphs. The dispositions for the next battle are planned by +him alone. Nominally he is only an adjutant on Kutuzov's staff, but he +does everything alone. The next battle is won by him alone. Kutuzov is +removed and he is appointed... "Well and then?" asked the other voice. +"If before that you are not ten times wounded, killed, or betrayed, +well... what then?..." "Well then," Prince Andrew answered himself, "I +don't know what will happen and don't want to know, and can't, but if +I want this--want glory, want to be known to men, want to be loved by +them, it is not my fault that I want it and want nothing but that and +live only for that. Yes, for that alone! I shall never tell anyone, +but, oh God! what am I to do if I love nothing but fame and men's +esteem? Death, wounds, the loss of family--I fear nothing. And +precious and dear as many persons are to me--father, sister, +wife--those dearest to me--yet dreadful and unnatural as it seems, I +would give them all at once for a moment of glory, of triumph over +men, of love from men I don't know and never shall know, for the love +of these men here," he thought, as he listened to voices in Kutuzov's +courtyard. The voices were those of the orderlies who were packing up; +one voice, probably a coachman's, was teasing Kutuzov's old cook whom +Prince Andrew knew, and who was called Tit. He was saying, "Tit, I +say, Tit!" + +"Well?" returned the old man. + +"Go, Tit, thresh a bit!" said the wag. + +"Oh, go to the devil!" called out a voice, drowned by the laughter +of the orderlies and servants. + +"All the same, I love and value nothing but triumph over them all, I +value this mystic power and glory that is floating here above me in +this mist!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +That same night, Rostov was with a platoon on skirmishing duty in +front of Bagration's detachment. His hussars were placed along the +line in couples and he himself rode along the line trying to master +the sleepiness that kept coming over him. An enormous space, with +our army's campfires dimly glowing in the fog, could be seen behind +him; in front of him was misty darkness. Rostov could see nothing, +peer as he would into that foggy distance: now something gleamed gray, +now there was something black, now little lights seemed to glimmer +where the enemy ought to be, now he fancied it was only something in +his own eyes. His eyes kept closing, and in his fancy appeared--now +the Emperor, now Denisov, and now Moscow memories--and he again +hurriedly opened his eyes and saw close before him the head and ears +of the horse he was riding, and sometimes, when he came within six +paces of them, the black figures of hussars, but in the distance was +still the same misty darkness. "Why not?... It might easily happen," +thought Rostov, "that the Emperor will meet me and give me an order as +he would to any other officer; he'll say: 'Go and find out what's +there.' There are many stories of his getting to know an officer in +just such a chance way and attaching him to himself! What if he gave +me a place near him? Oh, how I would guard him, how I would tell him +the truth, how I would unmask his deceivers!" And in order to +realize vividly his love devotion to the sovereign, Rostov pictured to +himself an enemy or a deceitful German, whom he would not only kill +with pleasure but whom he would slap in the face before the Emperor. +Suddenly a distant shout aroused him. He started and opened his eyes. + +"Where am I? Oh yes, in the skirmishing line... pass and +watchword--shaft, Olmutz. What a nuisance that our squadron will be in +reserve tomorrow," he thought. "I'll ask leave to go to the front, +this may be my only chance of seeing the Emperor. It won't be long now +before I am off duty. I'll take another turn and when I get back +I'll go to the general and ask him." He readjusted himself in the +saddle and touched up his horse to ride once more round his hussars. +It seemed to him that it was getting lighter. To the left he saw a +sloping descent lit up, and facing it a black knoll that seemed as +steep as a wall. On this knoll there was a white patch that Rostov +could not at all make out: was it a glade in the wood lit up by the +moon, or some unmelted snow, or some white houses? He even thought +something moved on that white spot. "I expect it's snow... that +spot... a spot--une tache," he thought. "There now... it's not a +tache... Natasha... sister, black eyes... Na... tasha... (Won't she be +surprised when I tell her how I've seen the Emperor?) Natasha... +take my sabretache..."--"Keep to the right, your honor, there are +bushes here," came the voice of an hussar, past whom Rostov was riding +in the act of falling asleep. Rostov lifted his head that had sunk +almost to his horse's mane and pulled up beside the hussar. He was +succumbing to irresistible, youthful, childish drowsiness. "But what +was I thinking? I mustn't forget. How shall I speak to the Emperor? +No, that's not it--that's tomorrow. Oh yes! Natasha... sabretache... +saber them... Whom? The hussars... Ah, the hussars with mustaches. +Along the Tverskaya Street rode the hussar with mustaches... I thought +about him too, just opposite Guryev's house... Old Guryev.... Oh, +but Denisov's a fine fellow. But that's all nonsense. The chief +thing is that the Emperor is here. How he looked at me and wished to +say something, but dared not.... No, it was I who dared not. But +that's nonsense, the chief thing is not to forget the important +thing I was thinking of. Yes, Na-tasha, sabretache, oh, yes, yes! +That's right!" And his head once more sank to his horse's neck. All at +once it seemed to him that he was being fired at. "What? What? +What?... Cut them down! What?..." said Rostov, waking up. At the +moment he opened his eyes he heard in front of him, where the +enemy was, the long-drawn shouts of thousands of voices. His horse and +the horse of the hussar near him pricked their ears at these shouts. +Over there, where the shouting came from, a fire flared up and went +out again, then another, and all along the French line on the hill +fires flared up and the shouting grew louder and louder. Rostov +could hear the sound of French words but could not distinguish them. +The din of many voices was too great; all he could hear was: "ahahah!" +and "rrrr!" + +"What's that? What do you make of it?" said Rostov to the hussar +beside him. "That must be the enemy's camp!" + +The hussar did not reply. + +"Why, don't you hear it?" Rostov asked again, after waiting for a +reply. + +"Who can tell, your honor?" replied the hussar reluctantly. + +"From the direction, it must be the enemy," repeated Rostov. + +"It may be he or it may be nothing," muttered the hussar. "It's +dark... Steady!" he cried to his fidgeting horse. + +Rostov's horse was also getting restive: it pawed the frozen ground, +pricking its ears at the noise and looking at the lights. The shouting +grew still louder and merged into a general roar that only an army +of several thousand men could produce. The lights spread farther and +farther, probably along the line of the French camp. Rostov no +longer wanted to sleep. The gay triumphant shouting of the enemy +army had a stimulating effect on him. "Vive l'Empereur! L'Empereur!" +he now heard distinctly. + +"They can't be far off, probably just beyond the stream," he said to +the hussar beside him. + +The hussar only sighed without replying and coughed angrily. The +sound of horse's hoofs approaching at a trot along the line of hussars +was heard, and out of the foggy darkness the figure of a sergeant of +hussars suddenly appeared, looming huge as an elephant. + +"Your honor, the generals!" said the sergeant, riding up to Rostov. + +Rostov, still looking round toward the fires and the shouts, rode +with the sergeant to meet some mounted men who were riding along the +line. One was on a white horse. Prince Bagration and Prince Dolgorukov +with their adjutants had come to witness the curious phenomenon of the +lights and shouts in the enemy's camp. Rostov rode up to Bagration, +reported to him, and then joined the adjutants listening to what the +generals were saying. + +"Believe me," said Prince Dolgorukov, addressing Bagration, "it is +nothing but a trick! He has retreated and ordered the rearguard to +kindle fires and make a noise to deceive us." + +"Hardly," said Bagration. "I saw them this evening on that knoll; if +they had retreated they would have withdrawn from that too.... +Officer!" said Bagration to Rostov, "are the enemy's skirmishers still +there?" + +"They were there this evening, but now I don't know, your +excellency. Shall I go with some of my hussars to see?" replied +Rostov. + +Bagration stopped and, before replying, tried to see Rostov's face +in the mist. + +"Well, go and see," he said, after a pause. + +"Yes, sir." + +Rostov spurred his horse, called to Sergeant Fedchenko and two other +hussars, told them to follow him, and trotted downhill in the +direction from which the shouting came. He felt both frightened and +pleased to be riding alone with three hussars into that mysterious and +dangerous misty distance where no one had been before him. Bagration +called to him from the hill not to go beyond the stream, but Rostov +pretended not to hear him and did not stop but rode on and on, +continually mistaking bushes for trees and gullies for men and +continually discovering his mistakes. Having descended the hill at a +trot, he no longer saw either our own or the enemy's fires, but +heard the shouting of the French more loudly and distinctly. In the +valley he saw before him something like a river, but when he reached +it he found it was a road. Having come out onto the road he reined +in his horse, hesitating whether to ride along it or cross it and ride +over the black field up the hillside. To keep to the road which +gleamed white in the mist would have been safer because it would be +easier to see people coming along it. "Follow me!" said he, crossed +the road, and began riding up the hill at a gallop toward the point +where the French pickets had been standing that evening. + +"Your honor, there he is!" cried one of the hussars behind him. +And before Rostov had time to make out what the black thing was that +had suddenly appeared in the fog, there was a flash, followed by a +report, and a bullet whizzing high up in the mist with a plaintive +sound passed out of hearing. Another musket missed fire but flashed in +the pan. Rostov turned his horse and galloped back. Four more +reports followed at intervals, and the bullets passed somewhere in the +fog singing in different tones. Rostov reined in his horse, whose +spirits had risen, like his own, at the firing, and went back at a +footpace. "Well, some more! Some more!" a merry voice was saying in +his soul. But no more shots came. + +Only when approaching Bagration did Rostov let his horse gallop +again, and with his hand at the salute rode up to the general. + +Dolgorukov was still insisting that the French had retreated and had +only lit fires to deceive us. + +"What does that prove?" he was saying as Rostov rode up. "They might +retreat and leave the pickets." + +"It's plain that they have not all gone yet, Prince," said +Bagration. "Wait till tomorrow morning, we'll find out everything +tomorrow." + +"The picket is still on the hill, your excellency, just where it was +in the evening," reported Rostov, stooping forward with his hand at +the salute and unable to repress the smile of delight induced by his +ride and especially by the sound of the bullets. + +"Very good, very good," said Bagration. "Thank you, officer." + +"Your excellency," said Rostov, "may I ask a favor?" + +"What is it?" + +"Tomorrow our squadron is to be in reserve. May I ask to be attached +to the first squadron?" + +"What's your name?" + +"Count Rostov." + +"Oh, very well, you may stay in attendance on me." + +"Count Ilya Rostov's son?" asked Dolgorukov. + +But Rostov did not reply. + +"Then I may reckon on it, your excellency?" + +"I will give the order." + +"Tomorrow very likely I may be sent with some message to the +Emperor," thought Rostov. + +"Thank God!" + + +The fires and shouting in the enemy's army were occasioned by the +fact that while Napoleon's proclamation was being read to the troops +the Emperor himself rode round his bivouacs. The soldiers, on seeing +him, lit wisps of straw and ran after him, shouting, "Vive +l'Empereur!" Napoleon's proclamation was as follows: + + +Soldiers! The Russian army is advancing against you to avenge the +Austrian army of Ulm. They are the same battalions you broke at +Hollabrunn and have pursued ever since to this place. The position +we occupy is a strong one, and while they are marching to go round +me on the right they will expose a flank to me. Soldiers! I will +myself direct your battalions. I will keep out of fire if you with +your habitual valor carry disorder and confusion into the enemy's +ranks, but should victory be in doubt, even for a moment, you will see +your Emperor exposing himself to the first blows of the enemy, for +there must be no doubt of victory, especially on this day when what is +at stake is the honor of the French infantry, so necessary to the +honor of our nation. + +Do not break your ranks on the plea of removing the wounded! Let +every man be fully imbued with the thought that we must defeat these +hirelings of England, inspired by such hatred of our nation! This +victory will conclude our campaign and we can return to winter +quarters, where fresh French troops who are being raised in France +will join us, and the peace I shall conclude will be worthy of my +people, of you, and of myself. + +NAPOLEON + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +At five in the morning it was still quite dark. The troops of the +center, the reserves, and Bagration's right flank had not yet moved, +but on the left flank the columns of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, +which were to be the first to descend the heights to attack the French +right flank and drive it into the Bohemian mountains according to +plan, were already up and astir. The smoke of the campfires, into +which they were throwing everything superfluous, made the eyes +smart. It was cold and dark. The officers were hurriedly drinking +tea and breakfasting, the soldiers, munching biscuit and beating a +tattoo with their feet to warm themselves, gathering round the fires +throwing into the flames the remains of sheds, chairs, tables, wheels, +tubs, and everything that they did not want or could not carry away +with them. Austrian column guides were moving in and out among the +Russian troops and served as heralds of the advance. As soon as an +Austrian officer showed himself near a commanding officer's +quarters, the regiment began to move: the soldiers ran from the fires, +thrust their pipes into their boots, their bags into the carts, got +their muskets ready, and formed rank. The officers buttoned up their +coats, buckled on their swords and pouches, and moved along the +ranks shouting. The train drivers and orderlies harnessed and packed +the wagons and tied on the loads. The adjutants and battalion and +regimental commanders mounted, crossed themselves, gave final +instructions, orders, and commissions to the baggage men who +remained behind, and the monotonous tramp of thousands of feet +resounded. The column moved forward without knowing where and +unable, from the masses around them, the smoke and the increasing fog, +to see either the place they were leaving or that to which they were +going. + +A soldier on the march is hemmed in and borne along by his +regiment as much as a sailor is by his ship. However far he has +walked, whatever strange, unknown, and dangerous places he reaches, +just as a sailor is always surrounded by the same decks, masts, and +rigging of his ship, so the soldier always has around him the same +comrades, the same ranks, the same sergeant major Ivan Mitrich, the +same company dog Jack, and the same commanders. The sailor rarely +cares to know the latitude in which his ship is sailing, but on the +day of battle--heaven knows how and whence--a stern note of which +all are conscious sounds in the moral atmosphere of an army, +announcing the approach of something decisive and solemn, and +awakening in the men an unusual curiosity. On the day of battle the +soldiers excitedly try to get beyond the interests of their +regiment, they listen intently, look about, and eagerly ask concerning +what is going on around them. + +The fog had grown so dense that though it was growing light they +could not see ten paces ahead. Bushes looked like gigantic trees and +level ground like cliffs and slopes. Anywhere, on any side, one +might encounter an enemy invisible ten paces off. But the columns +advanced for a long time, always in the same fog, descending and +ascending hills, avoiding gardens and enclosures, going over new and +unknown ground, and nowhere encountering the enemy. On the contrary, +the soldiers became aware that in front, behind, and on all sides, +other Russian columns were moving in the same direction. Every soldier +felt glad to know that to the unknown place where he was going, many +more of our men were going too. + +"There now, the Kurskies have also gone past," was being said in the +ranks. + +"It's wonderful what a lot of our troops have gathered, lads! Last +night I looked at the campfires and there was no end of them. A +regular Moscow!" + +Though none of the column commanders rode up to the ranks or +talked to the men (the commanders, as we saw at the council of war, +were out of humor and dissatisfied with the affair, and so did not +exert themselves to cheer the men but merely carried out the +orders), yet the troops marched gaily, as they always do when going +into action, especially to an attack. But when they had marched for +about an hour in the dense fog, the greater part of the men had to +halt and an unpleasant consciousness of some dislocation and blunder +spread through the ranks. How such a consciousness is communicated +is very difficult to define, but it certainly is communicated very +surely, and flows rapidly, imperceptibly, and irrepressibly, as +water does in a creek. Had the Russian army been alone without any +allies, it might perhaps have been a long time before this +consciousness of mismanagement became a general conviction, but as +it was, the disorder was readily and naturally attributed to the +stupid Germans, and everyone was convinced that a dangerous muddle had +been occasioned by the sausage eaters. + +"Why have we stopped? Is the way blocked? Or have we already come up +against the French?" + +"No, one can't hear them. They'd be firing if we had." + +"They were in a hurry enough to start us, and now here we stand in +the middle of a field without rhyme or reason. It's all those damned +Germans' muddling! What stupid devils!" + +"Yes, I'd send them on in front, but no fear, they're crowding up +behind. And now here we stand hungry." + +"I say, shall we soon be clear? They say the cavalry are blocking +the way," said an officer. + +"Ah, those damned Germans! They don't know their own country!" +said another. + +"What division are you?" shouted an adjutant, riding up. + +"The Eighteenth." + +"Then why are you here? You should have gone on long ago, now you +won't get there till evening." + +"What stupid orders! They don't themselves know what they are +doing!" said the officer and rode off. + +Then a general rode past shouting something angrily, not in Russian. + +"Tafa-lafa! But what he's jabbering no one can make out," said a +soldier, mimicking the general who had ridden away. "I'd shoot them, +the scoundrels!" + +"We were ordered to be at the place before nine, but we haven't +got halfway. Fine orders!" was being repeated on different sides. + +And the feeling of energy with which the troops had started began to +turn into vexation and anger at the stupid arrangements and at the +Germans. + +The cause of the confusion was that while the Austrian cavalry was +moving toward our left flank, the higher command found that our center +was too far separated from our right flank and the cavalry were all +ordered to turn back to the right. Several thousand cavalry crossed in +front of the infantry, who had to wait. + +At the front an altercation occurred between an Austrian guide and a +Russian general. The general shouted a demand that the cavalry +should be halted, the Austrian argued that not he, but the higher +command, was to blame. The troops meanwhile stood growing listless and +dispirited. After an hour's delay they at last moved on, descending +the hill. The fog that was dispersing on the hill lay still more +densely below, where they were descending. In front in the fog a +shot was heard and then another, at first irregularly at varying +intervals--trata... tat--and then more and more regularly and rapidly, +and the action at the Goldbach Stream began. + +Not expecting to come on the enemy down by the stream, and having +stumbled on him in the fog, hearing no encouraging word from their +commanders, and with a consciousness of being too late spreading +through the ranks, and above all being unable to see anything in front +or around them in the thick fog, the Russians exchanged shots with the +enemy lazily and advanced and again halted, receiving no timely orders +from the officers or adjutants who wandered about in the fog in +those unknown surroundings unable to find their own regiments. In this +way the action began for the first, second, and third columns, which +had gone down into the valley. The fourth column, with which Kutuzov +was, stood on the Pratzen Heights. + +Below, where the fight was beginning, there was still thick fog; +on the higher ground it was clearing, but nothing could be seen of +what was going on in front. Whether all the enemy forces were, as we +supposed, six miles away, or whether they were near by in that sea +of mist, no one knew till after eight o'clock. + +It was nine o'clock in the morning. The fog lay unbroken like a +sea down below, but higher up at the village of Schlappanitz where +Napoleon stood with his marshals around him, it was quite light. Above +him was a clear blue sky, and the sun's vast orb quivered like a +huge hollow, crimson float on the surface of that milky sea of mist. +The whole French army, and even Napoleon himself with his staff, +were not on the far side of the streams and hollows of Sokolnitz and +Schlappanitz beyond which we intended to take up our position and +begin the action, but were on this side, so close to our own forces +that Napoleon with the naked eye could distinguish a mounted man +from one on foot. Napoleon, in the blue cloak which he had worn on his +Italian campaign, sat on his small gray Arab horse a little in front +of his marshals. He gazed silently at the hills which seemed to rise +out of the sea of mist and on which the Russian troops were moving +in the distance, and he listened to the sounds of firing in the +valley. Not a single muscle of his face--which in those days was still +thin--moved. His gleaming eyes were fixed intently on one spot. His +predictions were being justified. Part of the Russian force had +already descended into the valley toward the ponds and lakes and +part were leaving these Pratzen Heights which he intended to attack +and regarded as the key to the position. He saw over the mist that +in a hollow between two hills near the village of Pratzen, the Russian +columns, their bayonets glittering, were moving continuously in one +direction toward the valley and disappearing one after another into +the mist. From information he had received the evening before, from +the sound of wheels and footsteps heard by the outposts during the +night, by the disorderly movement of the Russian columns, and from all +indications, he saw clearly that the allies believed him to be far +away in front of them, and that the columns moving near Pratzen +constituted the center of the Russian army, and that that center was +already sufficiently weakened to be successfully attacked. But still +he did not begin the engagement. + +Today was a great day for him--the anniversary of his coronation. +Before dawn he had slept for a few hours, and refreshed, vigorous, and +in good spirits, he mounted his horse and rode out into the field in +that happy mood in which everything seems possible and everything +succeeds. He sat motionless, looking at the heights visible above +the mist, and his cold face wore that special look of confident, +self-complacent happiness that one sees on the face of a boy happily +in love. The marshals stood behind him not venturing to distract his +attention. He looked now at the Pratzen Heights, now at the sun +floating up out of the mist. + +When the sun had entirely emerged from the fog, and fields and +mist were aglow with dazzling light--as if he had only awaited this to +begin the action--he drew the glove from his shapely white hand, +made a sign with it to the marshals, and ordered the action to +begin. The marshals, accompanied by adjutants, galloped off in +different directions, and a few minutes later the chief forces of +the French army moved rapidly toward those Pratzen Heights which +were being more and more denuded by Russian troops moving down the +valley to their left. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +At eight o'clock Kutuzov rode to Pratzen at the head of the fourth +column, Miloradovich's, the one that was to take the place of +Przebyszewski's and Langeron's columns which had already gone down +into the valley. He greeted the men of the foremost regiment and +gave them the order to march, thereby indicating that he intended to +lead that column himself. When he had reached the village of Pratzen +he halted. Prince Andrew was behind, among the immense number +forming the commander in chief's suite. He was in a state of +suppressed excitement and irritation, though controlledly calm as a +man is at the approach of a long-awaited moment. He was firmly +convinced that this was the day of his Toulon, or his bridge of +Arcola. How it would come about he did not know, but he felt sure it +would do so. The locality and the position of our troops were known to +him as far as they could be known to anyone in our army. His own +strategic plan, which obviously could not now be carried out, was +forgotten. Now, entering into Weyrother's plan, Prince Andrew +considered possible contingencies and formed new projects such as +might call for his rapidity of perception and decision. + +To the left down below in the mist, the musketry fire of unseen +forces could be heard. It was there Prince Andrew thought the fight +would concentrate. "There we shall encounter difficulties, and there," +thought he, "I shall be sent with a brigade or division, and there, +standard in hand, I shall go forward and break whatever is in front of +me." + +He could not look calmly at the standards of the passing battalions. +Seeing them he kept thinking, "That may be the very standard with +which I shall lead the army." + +In the morning all that was left of the night mist on the heights +was a hoar frost now turning to dew, but in the valleys it still lay +like a milk-white sea. Nothing was visible in the valley to the left +into which our troops had descended and from whence came the sounds of +firing. Above the heights was the dark clear sky, and to the right the +vast orb of the sun. In front, far off on the farther shore of that +sea of mist, some wooded hills were discernible, and it was there +the enemy probably was, for something could be descried. On the +right the Guards were entering the misty region with a sound of +hoofs and wheels and now and then a gleam of bayonets; to the left +beyond the village similar masses of cavalry came up and disappeared +in the sea of mist. In front and behind moved infantry. The +commander in chief was standing at the end of the village letting +the troops pass by him. That morning Kutuzov seemed worn and +irritable. The infantry passing before him came to a halt without +any command being given, apparently obstructed by something in front. + +"Do order them to form into battalion columns and go round the +village!" he said angrily to a general who had ridden up. "Don't you +understand, your excellency, my dear sir, that you must not defile +through narrow village streets when we are marching against the +enemy?" + +"I intended to re-form them beyond the village, your excellency," +answered the general. + +Kutuzov laughed bitterly. + +"You'll make a fine thing of it, deploying in sight of the enemy! +Very fine!" + +"The enemy is still far away, your excellency. According to the +dispositions..." + +"The dispositions!" exclaimed Kutuzov bitterly. "Who told you +that?... Kindly do as you are ordered." + +"Yes, sir." + +"My dear fellow," Nesvitski whispered to Prince Andrew, "the old man +is as surly as a dog." + +An Austrian officer in a white uniform with green plumes in his +hat galloped up to Kutuzov and asked in the Emperor's name had the +fourth column advanced into action. + +Kutuzov turned round without answering and his eye happened to +fall upon Prince Andrew, who was beside him. Seeing him, Kutuzov's +malevolent and caustic expression softened, as if admitting that +what was being done was not his adjutant's fault, and still not +answering the Austrian adjutant, he addressed Bolkonski. + +"Go, my dear fellow, and see whether the third division has passed +the village. Tell it to stop and await my orders." + +Hardly had Prince Andrew started than he stopped him. + +"And ask whether sharpshooters have been posted," he added. "What +are they doing? What are they doing?" he murmured to himself, still +not replying to the Austrian. + +Prince Andrew galloped off to execute the order. + +Overtaking the battalions that continued to advance, he stopped +the third division and convinced himself that there really were no +sharpshooters in front of our columns. The colonel at the head of +the regiment was much surprised at the commander in chief's order to +throw out skirmishers. He had felt perfectly sure that there were +other troops in front of him and that the enemy must be at least six +miles away. There was really nothing to be seen in front except a +barren descent hidden by dense mist. Having given orders in the +commander in chief's name to rectify this omission, Prince Andrew +galloped back. Kutuzov still in the same place, his stout body resting +heavily in the saddle with the lassitude of age, sat yawning wearily +with closed eyes. The troops were no longer moving, but stood with the +butts of their muskets on the ground. + +"All right, all right!" he said to Prince Andrew, and turned to a +general who, watch in hand, was saying it was time they started as all +the left-flank columns had already descended. + +"Plenty of time, your excellency," muttered Kutuzov in the midst +of a yawn. "Plenty of time," he repeated. + +Just then at a distance behind Kutuzov was heard the sound of +regiments saluting, and this sound rapidly came nearer along the whole +extended line of the advancing Russian columns. Evidently the person +they were greeting was riding quickly. When the soldiers of the +regiment in front of which Kutuzov was standing began to shout, he +rode a little to one side and looked round with a frown. Along the +road from Pratzen galloped what looked like a squadron of horsemen +in various uniforms. Two of them rode side by side in front, at full +gallop. One in a black uniform with white plumes in his hat rode a +bobtailed chestnut horse, the other who was in a white uniform rode +a black one. These were the two Emperors followed by their suites. +Kutuzov, affecting the manners of an old soldier at the front, gave +the command "Attention!" and rode up to the Emperors with a salute. +His whole appearance and manner were suddenly transformed. He put on +the air of a subordinate who obeys without reasoning. With an +affectation of respect which evidently struck Alexander +unpleasantly, he rode up and saluted. + +This unpleasant impression merely flitted over the young and happy +face of the Emperor like a cloud of haze across a clear sky and +vanished. After his illness he looked rather thinner that day than +on the field of Olmutz where Bolkonski had seen him for the first time +abroad, but there was still the same bewitching combination of majesty +and mildness in his fine gray eyes, and on his delicate lips the +same capacity for varying expression and the same prevalent appearance +of goodhearted innocent youth. + +At the Olmutz review he had seemed more majestic; here he seemed +brighter and more energetic. He was slightly flushed after galloping +two miles, and reining in his horse he sighed restfully and looked +round at the faces of his suite, young and animated as his own. +Czartoryski, Novosiltsev, Prince Volkonsky, Strogonov, and the others, +all richly dressed gay young men on splendid, well-groomed, fresh, +only slightly heated horses, exchanging remarks and smiling, had +stopped behind the Emperor. The Emperor Francis, a rosy, long faced +young man, sat very erect on his handsome black horse, looking about +him in a leisurely and preoccupied manner. He beckoned to one of his +white adjutants and asked some question--"Most likely he is asking +at what o'clock they started," thought Prince Andrew, watching his old +acquaintance with a smile he could not repress as he recalled his +reception at Brunn. In the Emperors' suite were the picked young +orderly officers of the Guard and line regiments, Russian and +Austrian. Among them were grooms leading the Tsar's beautiful relay +horses covered with embroidered cloths. + +As when a window is opened a whiff of fresh air from the fields +enters a stuffy room, so a whiff of youthfulness, energy, and +confidence of success reached Kutuzov's cheerless staff with the +galloping advent of all these brilliant young men. + +"Why aren't you beginning, Michael Ilarionovich?" said the Emperor +Alexander hurriedly to Kutuzov, glancing courteously at the same +time at the Emperor Francis. + +"I am waiting, Your Majesty," answered Kutuzov, bending forward +respectfully. + +The Emperor, frowning slightly, bent his ear forward as if he had +not quite heard. + +"Waiting, Your Majesty," repeated Kutuzov. (Prince Andrew noted that +Kutuzov's upper lip twitched unnaturally as he said the word +"waiting.") "Not all the columns have formed up yet, Your Majesty." + +The Tsar heard but obviously did not like the reply; he shrugged his +rather round shoulders and glanced at Novosiltsev who was near him, as +if complaining of Kutuzov. + +"You know, Michael Ilarionovich, we are not on the +Empress' Field where a parade does not begin till all the troops are +assembled," said the Tsar with another glance at the Emperor +Francis, as if inviting him if not to join in at least to listen to +what he was saying. But the Emperor Francis continued to look about +him and did not listen. + +"That is just why I do not begin, sire," said Kutuzov in a +resounding voice, apparently to preclude the possibility of not +being heard, and again something in his face twitched--"That is just +why I do not begin, sire, because we are not on parade and not on +the Empress' Field," said clearly and distinctly. + +In the Emperor's suite all exchanged rapid looks that expressed +dissatisfaction and reproach. "Old though he may be, he should not, he +certainly should not, speak like that," their glances seemed to say. + +The Tsar looked intently and observantly into Kutuzov's eye +waiting to hear whether he would say anything more. But Kutuzov, +with respectfully bowed head, seemed also to be waiting. The silence +lasted for about a minute. + +"However, if you command it, Your Majesty," said Kutuzov, lifting +his head and again assuming his former tone of a dull, unreasoning, +but submissive general. + +He touched his horse and having called Miloradovich, the commander +of the column, gave him the order to advance. + +The troops again began to move, and two battalions of the Novgorod +and one of the Apsheron regiment went forward past the Emperor. + +As this Apsheron battalion marched by, the red-faced Miloradovich, +without his greatcoat, with his Orders on his breast and an enormous +tuft of plumes in his cocked hat worn on one side with its corners +front and back, galloped strenuously forward, and with a dashing +salute reined in his horse before the Emperor. + +"God be with you, general!" said the Emperor. + +"Ma foi, sire, nous ferons ce qui sera dans notre possibilite, +sire,"* he answered gaily, raising nevertheless ironic smiles among +the gentlemen of the Tsar's suite by his poor French. + + +*"Indeed, Sire, we shall do everything it is possible to do, Sire." + + +Miloradovich wheeled his horse sharply and stationed himself a +little behind the Emperor. The Apsheron men, excited by the Tsar's +presence, passed in step before the Emperors and their suites at a +bold, brisk pace. + +"Lads!" shouted Miloradovich in a loud, self-confident, and cheery +voice, obviously so elated by the sound of firing, by the prospect +of battle, and by the sight of the gallant Apsherons, his comrades +in Suvorov's time, now passing so gallantly before the Emperors, +that he forgot the sovereigns' presence. "Lads, it's not the first +village you've had to take," cried he. + +"Glad to do our best!" shouted the soldiers. + +The Emperor's horse started at the sudden cry. This horse that had +carried the sovereign at reviews in Russia bore him also here on the +field of Austerlitz, enduring the heedless blows of his left foot +and pricking its ears at the sound of shots just as it had done on the +Empress' Field, not understanding the significance of the firing, +nor of the nearness of the Emperor Francis' black cob, nor of all that +was being said, thought, and felt that day by its rider. + +The Emperor turned with a smile to one of his followers and made a +remark to him, pointing to the gallant Apsherons. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Kutuzov accompanied by his adjutants rode at a walking pace behind +the carabineers. + +When he had gone less than half a mile in the rear of the column +he stopped at a solitary, deserted house that had probably once been +an inn, where two roads parted. Both of them led downhill and troops +were marching along both. + +The fog had begun to clear and enemy troops were already dimly +visible about a mile and a half off on the opposite heights. Down +below, on the left, the firing became more distinct. Kutuzov had +stopped and was speaking to an Austrian general. Prince Andrew, who +was a little behind looking at them, turned to an adjutant to ask +him for a field glass. + +"Look, look!" said this adjutant, looking not at the troops in the +distance, but down the hill before him. "It's the French!" + +The two generals and the adjutant took hold of the field glass, +trying to snatch it from one another. The expression on all their +faces suddenly changed to one of horror. The French were supposed to +be a mile and a half away, but had suddenly and unexpectedly +appeared just in front of us. + +"It's the enemy?... No!... Yes, see it is!... for certain.... But +how is that?" said different voices. + +With the naked eye Prince Andrew saw below them to the right, not +more than five hundred paces from where Kutuzov was standing, a +dense French column coming up to meet the Apsherons. + +"Here it is! The decisive moment has arrived. My turn has come," +thought Prince Andrew, and striking his horse he rode up to Kutuzov. + +"The Apsherons must be stopped, your excellency," cried he. But at +that very instant a cloud of smoke spread all round, firing was +heard quite close at hand, and a voice of naive terror barely two +steps from Prince Andrew shouted, "Brothers! All's lost!" And at +this as if at a command, everyone began to run. + +Confused and ever-increasing crowds were running back to where +five minutes before the troops had passed the Emperors. Not only would +it have been difficult to stop that crowd, it was even impossible +not to be carried back with it oneself. Bolkonski only tried not to +lose touch with it, and looked around bewildered and unable to grasp +what was happening in front of him. Nesvitski with an angry face, +red and unlike himself, was shouting to Kutuzov that if he did not +ride away at once he would certainly be taken prisoner. Kutuzov +remained in the same place and without answering drew out a +handkerchief. Blood was flowing from his cheek. Prince Andrew forced +his way to him. + +"You are wounded?" he asked, hardly able to master the trembling +of his lower jaw. + +"The wound is not here, it is there!" said Kutuzov, pressing the +handkerchief to his wounded cheek and pointing to the fleeing +soldiers. "Stop them!" he shouted, and at the same moment, probably +realizing that it was impossible to stop them, spurred his horse and +rode to the right. + +A fresh wave of the flying mob caught him and bore him back with it. + +The troops were running in such a dense mass that once surrounded by +them it was difficult to get out again. One was shouting, "Get on! Why +are you hindering us?" Another in the same place turned round and +fired in the air; a third was striking the horse Kutuzov himself rode. +Having by a great effort got away to the left from that flood of +men, Kutuzov, with his suite diminished by more than half, rode toward +a sound of artillery fire near by. Having forced his way out of the +crowd of fugitives, Prince Andrew, trying to keep near Kutuzov, saw on +the slope of the hill amid the smoke a Russian battery that was +still firing and Frenchmen running toward it. Higher up stood some +Russian infantry, neither moving forward to protect the battery nor +backward with the fleeing crowd. A mounted general separated himself +from the infantry and approached Kutuzov. Of Kutuzov's suite only four +remained. They were all pale and exchanged looks in silence. + +"Stop those wretches!" gasped Kutuzov to the regimental commander, +pointing to the flying soldiers; but at that instant, as if to +punish him for those words, bullets flew hissing across the regiment +and across Kutuzov's suite like a flock of little birds. + +The French had attacked the battery and, seeing Kutuzov, were firing +at him. After this volley the regimental commander clutched at his +leg; several soldiers fell, and a second lieutenant who was holding +the flag let it fall from his hands. It swayed and fell, but caught on +the muskets of the nearest soldiers. The soldiers started firing +without orders. + +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" groaned Kutuzov despairingly and looked around.... +"Bolkonski!" he whispered, his voice trembling from a consciousness of +the feebleness of age, "Bolkonski!" he whispered, pointing to the +disordered battalion and at the enemy, "what's that?" + +But before he had finished speaking, Prince Andrew, feeling tears of +shame and anger choking him, had already leapt from his horse and +run to the standard. + +"Forward, lads!" he shouted in a voice piercing as a child's. + +"Here it is!" thought he, seizing the staff of the standard and +hearing with pleasure the whistle of bullets evidently aimed at him. +Several soldiers fell. + +"Hurrah!" shouted Prince Andrew, and, scarcely able to hold up the +heavy standard, he ran forward with full confidence that the whole +battalion would follow him. + +And really he only ran a few steps alone. One soldier moved and then +another and soon the whole battalion ran forward shouting "Hurrah!" +and overtook him. A sergeant of the battalion ran up and took the flag +that was swaying from its weight in Prince Andrew's hands, but he +was immediately killed. Prince Andrew again seized the standard and, +dragging it by the staff, ran on with the battalion. In front he saw +our artillerymen, some of whom were fighting, while others, having +abandoned their guns, were running toward him. He also saw French +infantry soldiers who were seizing the artillery horses and turning +the guns round. Prince Andrew and the battalion were already within +twenty paces of the cannon. He heard the whistle of bullets above +him unceasingly and to right and left of him soldiers continually +groaned and dropped. But he did not look at them: he looked only at +what was going on in front of him--at the battery. He now saw +clearly the figure of a red-haired gunner with his shako knocked awry, +pulling one end of a mop while a French soldier tugged at the other. +He could distinctly see the distraught yet angry expression on the +faces of these two men, who evidently did not realize what they were +doing. + +"What are they about?" thought Prince Andrew as he gazed at them. +"Why doesn't the red-haired gunner run away as he is unarmed? Why +doesn't the Frenchman stab him? He will not get away before the +Frenchman remembers his bayonet and stabs him...." + +And really another French soldier, trailing his musket, ran up to +the struggling men, and the fate of the red-haired gunner, who had +triumphantly secured the mop and still did not realize what awaited +him, was about to be decided. But Prince Andrew did not see how it +ended. It seemed to him as though one of the soldiers near him hit him +on the head with the full swing of a bludgeon. It hurt a little, but +the worst of it was that the pain distracted him and prevented his +seeing what he had been looking at. + +"What's this? Am I falling? My legs are giving way," thought he, and +fell on his back. He opened his eyes, hoping to see how the struggle +of the Frenchmen with the gunners ended, whether the red-haired gunner +had been killed or not and whether the cannon had been captured or +saved. But he saw nothing. Above him there was now nothing but the +sky--the lofty sky, not clear yet still immeasurably lofty, with +gray clouds gliding slowly across it. "How quiet, peaceful, and +solemn; not at all as I ran," thought Prince Andrew--"not as we ran, +shouting and fighting, not at all as the gunner and the Frenchman with +frightened and angry faces struggled for the mop: how differently do +those clouds glide across that lofty infinite sky! How was it I did +not see that lofty sky before? And how happy I am to have found it +at last! Yes! All is vanity, all falsehood, except that infinite +sky. There is nothing, nothing, but that. But even it does not +exist, there is nothing but quiet and peace. Thank God!..." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +On our right flank commanded by Bagration, at nine o'clock the +battle had not yet begun. Not wishing to agree to Dolgorukov's +demand to commence the action, and wishing to avert responsibility +from himself, Prince Bagration proposed to Dolgorukov to send to +inquire of the commander in chief. Bagration knew that as the distance +between the two flanks was more than six miles, even if the +messenger were not killed (which he very likely would be), and found +the commander in chief (which would be very difficult), he would not +be able to get back before evening. + +Bagration cast his large, expressionless, sleepy eyes round his +suite, and the boyish face Rostov, breathless with excitement and +hope, was the first to catch his eye. He sent him. + +"And if I should meet His Majesty before I meet the commander in +chief, your excellency?" said Rostov, with his hand to his cap. + +"You can give the message to His Majesty," said Dolgorukov, +hurriedly interrupting Bagration. + +On being relieved from picket duty Rostov had managed to get a few +hours' sleep before morning and felt cheerful, bold, and resolute, +with elasticity of movement, faith in his good fortune, and +generally in that state of mind which makes everything seem +possible, pleasant, and easy. + +All his wishes were being fulfilled that morning: there was to be +a general engagement in which he was taking part, more than that, he +was orderly to the bravest general, and still more, he was going +with a message to Kutuzov, perhaps even to the sovereign himself. +The morning was bright, he had a good horse under him, and his heart +was full of joy and happiness. On receiving the order he gave his +horse the rein and galloped along the line. At first he rode along the +line of Bagration's troops, which had not yet advanced into action but +were standing motionless; then he came to the region occupied by +Uvarov's cavalry and here he noticed a stir and signs of preparation +for battle; having passed Uvarov's cavalry he clearly heard the +sound of cannon and musketry ahead of him. The firing grew louder +and louder. + +In the fresh morning air were now heard, not two or three musket +shots at irregular intervals as before, followed by one or two +cannon shots, but a roll of volleys of musketry from the slopes of the +hill before Pratzen, interrupted by such frequent reports of cannon +that sometimes several of them were not separated from one another but +merged into a general roar. + +He could see puffs of musketry smoke that seemed to chase one +another down the hillsides, and clouds of cannon smoke rolling, +spreading, and mingling with one another. He could also, by the +gleam of bayonets visible through the smoke, make out moving masses of +infantry and narrow lines of artillery with green caissons. + +Rostov stopped his horse for a moment on a hillock to see what was +going on, but strain his attention as he would he could not understand +or make out anything of what was happening: there in the smoke men +of some sort were moving about, in front and behind moved lines of +troops; but why, whither, and who they were, it was impossible to make +out. These sights and sounds had no depressing or intimidating +effect on him; on the contrary, they stimulated his energy and +determination. + +"Go on! Go on! Give it them!" he mentally exclaimed at these sounds, +and again proceeded to gallop along the line, penetrating farther +and farther into the region where the army was already in action. + +"How it will be there I don't know, but all will be well!" thought +Rostov. + +After passing some Austrian troops he noticed that the next part +of the line (the Guards) was already in action. + +"So much the better! I shall see it close," he thought. + +He was riding almost along the front line. A handful of men came +galloping toward him. They were our Uhlans who with disordered ranks +were returning from the attack. Rostov got out of their way, +involuntarily noticed that one of them was bleeding, and galloped on. + +"That is no business of mine," he thought. He had not ridden many +hundred yards after that before he saw to his left, across the whole +width of the field, an enormous mass of cavalry in brilliant white +uniforms, mounted on black horses, trotting straight toward him and +across his path. Rostov put his horse to full gallop to get out of the +way of these men, and he would have got clear had they continued at +the same speed, but they kept increasing their pace, so that some of +the horses were already galloping. Rostov heard the thud of their +hoofs and the jingle of their weapons and saw their horses, their +figures, and even their faces, more and more distinctly. They were our +Horse Guards, advancing to attack the French cavalry that was coming +to meet them. + +The Horse Guards were galloping, but still holding in their +horses. Rostov could already see their faces and heard the command: +"Charge!" shouted by an officer who was urging his thoroughbred to +full speed. Rostov, fearing to be crushed or swept into the attack +on the French, galloped along the front as hard as his horse could go, +but still was not in time to avoid them. + +The last of the Horse Guards, a huge pockmarked fellow, frowned +angrily on seeing Rostov before him, with whom he would inevitably +collide. This Guardsman would certainly have bowled Rostov and his +Bedouin over (Rostov felt himself quite tiny and weak compared to +these gigantic men and horses) had it not occurred to Rostov to +flourish his whip before the eyes of the Guardsman's horse. The +heavy black horse, sixteen hands high, shied, throwing back its +ears; but the pockmarked Guardsman drove his huge spurs in +violently, and the horse, flourishing its tail and extending its neck, +galloped on yet faster. Hardly had the Horse Guards passed Rostov +before he heard them shout, "Hurrah!" and looking back saw that +their foremost ranks were mixed up with some foreign cavalry with +red epaulets, probably French. He could see nothing more, for +immediately afterwards cannon began firing from somewhere and smoke +enveloped everything. + +At that moment, as the Horse Guards, having passed him, +disappeared in the smoke, Rostov hesitated whether to gallop after +them or to go where he was sent. This was the brilliant charge of +the Horse Guards that amazed the French themselves. Rostov was +horrified to hear later that of all that mass of huge and handsome +men, of all those brilliant, rich youths, officers and cadets, who had +galloped past him on their thousand-ruble horses, only eighteen were +left after the charge. + +"Why should I envy them? My chance is not lost, and maybe I shall +see the Emperor immediately!" thought Rostov and galloped on. + +When he came level with the Foot Guards he noticed that about them +and around them cannon balls were flying, of which he was aware not so +much because he heard their sound as because he saw uneasiness on +the soldiers' faces and unnatural warlike solemnity on those of the +officers. + +Passing behind one of the lines of a regiment of Foot Guards he +heard a voice calling him by name. + +"Rostov!" + +"What?" he answered, not recognizing Boris. + +"I say, we've been in the front line! Our regiment attacked!" said +Boris with the happy smile seen on the faces of young men who have +been under fire for the first time. + +Rostov stopped. + +"Have you?" he said. "Well, how did it go?" + +"We drove them back!" said Boris with animation, growing +talkative. "Can you imagine it?" and he began describing how the +Guards, having taken up their position and seeing troops before +them, thought they were Austrians, and all at once discovered from the +cannon balls discharged by those troops that they were themselves in +the front line and had unexpectedly to go into action. Rostov +without hearing Boris to the end spurred his horse. + +"Where are you off to?" asked Boris. + +"With a message to His Majesty." + +"There he is!" said Boris, thinking Rostov had said "His +Highness," and pointing to the Grand Duke who with his high +shoulders and frowning brows stood a hundred paces away from them in +his helmet and Horse Guards' jacket, shouting something to a pale, +white uniformed Austrian officer. + +"But that's the Grand Duke, and I want the commander in chief or the +Emperor," said Rostov, and was about to spur his horse. + +"Count! Count!" shouted Berg who ran up from the other side as eager +as Boris. "Count! I am wounded in my right hand" (and he showed his +bleeding hand with a handkerchief tied round it) "and I remained at +the front. I held my sword in my left hand, Count. All our family--the +von Bergs--have been knights!" + +He said something more, but Rostov did not wait to hear it and +rode away. + +Having passed the Guards and traversed an empty space, Rostov, to +avoid again getting in front of the first line as he had done when the +Horse Guards charged, followed the line of reserves, going far round +the place where the hottest musket fire and cannonade were heard. +Suddenly he heard musket fire quite close in front of him and behind +our troops, where he could never have expected the enemy to be. + +"What can it be?" he thought. "The enemy in the rear of our army? +Impossible!" And suddenly he was seized by a panic of fear for himself +and for the issue of the whole battle. "But be that what it may," he +reflected, "there is no riding round it now. I must look for the +commander in chief here, and if all is lost it is for me to perish +with the rest." + +The foreboding of evil that had suddenly come over Rostov was more +and more confirmed the farther he rode into the region behind the +village of Pratzen, which was full of troops of all kinds. + +"What does it mean? What is it? Whom are they firing at? Who is +firing?" Rostov kept asking as he came up to Russian and Austrian +soldiers running in confused crowds across his path. + +"The devil knows! They've killed everybody! It's all up now!" he was +told in Russian, German, and Czech by the crowd of fugitives who +understood what was happening as little as he did. + +"Kill the Germans!" shouted one. + +"May the devil take them--the traitors!" + +"Zum Henker diese Russen!"* muttered a German. + + +*"Hang these Russians!" + + +Several wounded men passed along the road, and words of abuse, +screams, and groans mingled in a general hubbub, then the firing +died down. Rostov learned later that Russian and Austrian soldiers had +been firing at one another. + +"My God! What does it all mean?" thought he. "And here, where at any +moment the Emperor may see them.... But no, these must be only a +handful of scoundrels. It will soon be over, it can't be that, it +can't be! Only to get past them quicker, quicker!" + +The idea of defeat and flight could not enter Rostov's head. +Though he saw French cannon and French troops on the Pratzen Heights +just where he had been ordered to look for the commander in chief, +he could not, did not wish to, believe that. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Rostov had been ordered to look for Kutuzov and the Emperor near the +village of Pratzen. But neither they nor a single commanding officer +were there, only disorganized crowds of troops of various kinds. He +urged on his already weary horse to get quickly past these crowds, but +the farther he went the more disorganized they were. The highroad on +which he had come out was thronged with caleches, carriages of all +sorts, and Russian and Austrian soldiers of all arms, some wounded and +some not. This whole mass droned and jostled in confusion under the +dismal influence of cannon balls flying from the French batteries +stationed on the Pratzen Heights. + +"Where is the Emperor? Where is Kutuzov?" Rostov kept asking +everyone he could stop, but got no answer from anyone. + +At last seizing a soldier by his collar he forced him to answer. + +"Eh, brother! They've all bolted long ago!" said the soldier, +laughing for some reason and shaking himself free. + +Having left that soldier who was evidently drunk, Rostov stopped the +horse of a batman or groom of some important personage and began to +question him. The man announced that the Tsar had been driven in a +carriage at full speed about an hour before along that very road and +that he was dangerously wounded. + +"It can't be!" said Rostov. "It must have been someone else." + +"I saw him myself," replied the man with a self-confident smile of +derision. "I ought to know the Emperor by now, after the times I've +seen him in Petersburg. I saw him just as I see you.... There he sat +in the carriage as pale as anything. How they made the four black +horses fly! Gracious me, they did rattle past! It's time I knew the +Imperial horses and Ilya Ivanych. I don't think Ilya drives anyone +except the Tsar!" + +Rostov let go of the horse and was about to ride on, when a +wounded officer passing by addressed him: + +"Who is it you want?" he asked. "The commander in chief? He was +killed by a cannon ball--struck in the breast before our regiment." + +"Not killed--wounded!" another officer corrected him. + +"Who? Kutuzov?" asked Rostov. + +"Not Kutuzov, but what's his name--well, never mind... there are not +many left alive. Go that way, to that village, all the commanders +are there," said the officer, pointing to the village of Hosjeradek, +and he walked on. + +Rostov rode on at a footpace not knowing why or to whom he was now +going. The Emperor was wounded, the battle lost. It was impossible +to doubt it now. Rostov rode in the direction pointed out to him, in +which he saw turrets and a church. What need to hurry? What was he now +to say to the Tsar or to Kutuzov, even if they were alive and +unwounded? + +"Take this road, your honor, that way you will be killed at once!" a +soldier shouted to him. "They'd kill you there!" + +"Oh, what are you talking about?" said another. "Where is he to +go? That way is nearer." + +Rostov considered, and then went in the direction where they said he +would be killed. + +"It's all the same now. If the Emperor is wounded, am I to try to +save myself?" he thought. He rode on to the region where the +greatest number of men had perished in fleeing from Pratzen. The +French had not yet occupied that region, and the Russians--the +uninjured and slightly wounded--had left it long ago. All about the +field, like heaps of manure on well-kept plowland, lay from ten to +fifteen dead and wounded to each couple of acres. The wounded crept +together in twos and threes and one could hear their distressing +screams and groans, sometimes feigned--or so it seemed to Rostov. He +put his horse to a trot to avoid seeing all these suffering men, and +he felt afraid--afraid not for his life, but for the courage he needed +and which he knew would not stand the sight of these unfortunates. + +The French, who had ceased firing at this field strewn with dead and +wounded where there was no one left to fire at, on seeing an +adjutant riding over it trained a gun on him and fired several +shots. The sensation of those terrible whistling sounds and of the +corpses around him merged in Rostov's mind into a single feeling of +terror and pity for himself. He remembered his mother's last letter. +"What would she feel," thought he, "if she saw me here now on this +field with the cannon aimed at me?" + +In the village of Hosjeradek there were Russian troops retiring from +the field of battle, who though still in some confusion were less +disordered. The French cannon did not reach there and the musketry +fire sounded far away. Here everyone clearly saw and said that the +battle was lost. No one whom Rostov asked could tell him where the +Emperor or Kutuzov was. Some said the report that the Emperor was +wounded was correct, others that it was not, and explained the false +rumor that had spread by the fact that the Emperor's carriage had +really galloped from the field of battle with the pale and terrified +Ober-Hofmarschal Count Tolstoy, who had ridden out to the +battlefield with others in the Emperor's suite. One officer told +Rostov that he had seen someone from headquarters behind the village +to the left, and thither Rostov rode, not hoping to find anyone but +merely to ease his conscience. When he had ridden about two miles +and had passed the last of the Russian troops, he saw, near a +kitchen garden with a ditch round it, two men on horseback facing +the ditch. One with a white plume in his hat seemed familiar to +Rostov; the other on a beautiful chestnut horse (which Rostov +fancied he had seen before) rode up to the ditch, struck his horse +with his spurs, and giving it the rein leaped lightly over. Only a +little earth crumbled from the bank under the horse's hind hoofs. +Turning the horse sharply, he again jumped the ditch, and +deferentially addressed the horseman with the white plumes, +evidently suggesting that he should do the same. The rider, whose +figure seemed familiar to Rostov and involuntarily riveted his +attention, made a gesture of refusal with his head and hand and by +that gesture Rostov instantly recognized his lamented and adored +monarch. + +"But it can't be he, alone in the midst of this empty field!" +thought Rostov. At that moment Alexander turned his head and Rostov +saw the beloved features that were so deeply engraved on his memory. +The Emperor was pale, his cheeks sunken and his eyes hollow, but the +charm, the mildness of his features, was all the greater. Rostov was +happy in the assurance that the rumors about the Emperor being wounded +were false. He was happy to be seeing him. He knew that he might and +even ought to go straight to him and give the message Dolgorukov had +ordered him to deliver. + +But as a youth in love trembles, is unnerved, and dares not utter +the thoughts he has dreamed of for nights, but looks around for help +or a chance of delay and flight when the longed-for moment comes and +he is alone with her, so Rostov, now that he had attained what he +had longed for more than anything else in the world, did not know +how to approach the Emperor, and a thousand reasons occurred to him +why it would be inconvenient, unseemly, and impossible to do so. + +"What! It is as if I were glad of a chance to take advantage of +his being alone and despondent! A strange face may seem unpleasant +or painful to him at this moment of sorrow; besides, what can I say to +him now, when my heart fails me and my mouth feels dry at the mere +sight of him?" Not one of the innumerable speeches addressed to the +Emperor that he had composed in his imagination could he now recall. +Those speeches were intended for quite other conditions, they were for +the most part to be spoken at a moment of victory and triumph, +generally when he was dying of wounds and the sovereign had thanked +him for heroic deeds, and while dying he expressed the love his +actions had proved. + +"Besides how can I ask the Emperor for his instructions for the +right flank now that it is nearly four o'clock and the battle is lost? +No, certainly I must not approach him, I must not intrude on his +reflections. Better die a thousand times than risk receiving an unkind +look or bad opinion from him," Rostov decided; and sorrowfully and +with a heart full despair he rode away, continually looking back at +the Tsar, who still remained in the same attitude of indecision. + +While Rostov was thus arguing with himself and riding sadly away, +Captain von Toll chanced to ride to the same spot, and seeing the +Emperor at once rode up to him, offered his services, and assisted him +to cross the ditch on foot. The Emperor, wishing to rest and feeling +unwell, sat down under an apple tree and von Toll remained beside him. +Rostov from a distance saw with envy and remorse how von Toll spoke +long and warmly to the Emperor and how the Emperor, evidently weeping, +covered his eyes with his hand and pressed von Toll's hand. + +"And I might have been in his place!" thought Rostov, and hardly +restraining his tears of pity for the Emperor, he rode on in utter +despair, not knowing where to or why he was now riding. + +His despair was all the greater from feeling that his own weakness +was the cause of his grief. + +He might... not only might but should, have gone up to the +sovereign. It was a unique chance to show his devotion to the +Emperor and he had not made use of it.... "What have I done?" +thought he. And he turned round and galloped back to the place where +he had seen the Emperor, but there was no one beyond the ditch now. +Only some carts and carriages were passing by. From one of the drivers +he learned that Kutuzov's staff were not far off, in the village the +vehicles were going to. Rostov followed them. In front of him walked +Kutuzov's groom leading horses in horsecloths. Then came a cart, and +behind that walked an old, bandy-legged domestic serf in a peaked +cap and sheepskin coat. + +"Tit! I say, Tit!" said the groom. + +"What?" answered the old man absent-mindedly. + +"Go, Tit! Thresh a bit!" + +"Oh, you fool!" said the old man, spitting angrily. Some time passed +in silence, and then the same joke was repeated. + + +Before five in the evening the battle had been lost at all points. +More than a hundred cannon were already in the hands of the French. + +Przebyszewski and his corps had laid down their arms. Other +columns after losing half their men were retreating in disorderly +confused masses. + +The remains of Langeron's and Dokhturov's mingled forces were +crowding around the dams and banks of the ponds near the village of +Augesd. + +After five o'clock it was only at the Augesd Dam that a hot +cannonade (delivered by the French alone) was still to be heard from +numerous batteries ranged on the slopes of the Pratzen Heights, +directed at our retreating forces. + +In the rearguard, Dokhturov and others rallying some battalions kept +up a musketry fire at the French cavalry that was pursuing our troops. +It was growing dusk. On the narrow Augesd Dam where for so many +years the old miller had been accustomed to sit in his tasseled cap +peacefully angling, while his grandson, with shirt sleeves rolled +up, handled the floundering silvery fish in the watering can, on +that dam over which for so many years Moravians in shaggy caps and +blue jackets had peacefully driven their two-horse carts loaded with +wheat and had returned dusty with flour whitening their carts--on that +narrow dam amid the wagons and the cannon, under the horses' hoofs and +between the wagon wheels, men disfigured by fear of death now +crowded together, crushing one another, dying, stepping over the dying +and killing one another, only to move on a few steps and be killed +themselves in the same way. + +Every ten seconds a cannon ball flew compressing the air around, +or a shell burst in the midst of that dense throng, killing some and +splashing with blood those near them. + +Dolokhov--now an officer--wounded in the arm, and on foot, with +the regimental commander on horseback and some ten men of his company, +represented all that was left of that whole regiment. Impelled by +the crowd, they had got wedged in at the approach to the dam and, +jammed in on all sides, had stopped because a horse in front had +fallen under a cannon and the crowd were dragging it out. A cannon +ball killed someone behind them, another fell in front and splashed +Dolokhov with blood. The crowd, pushing forward desperately, +squeezed together, moved a few steps, and again stopped. + +"Move on a hundred yards and we are certainly saved, remain here +another two minutes and it is certain death," thought each one. + +Dolokhov who was in the midst of the crowd forced his way to the +edge of the dam, throwing two soldiers off their feet, and ran onto +the slippery ice that covered the millpool. + +"Turn this way!" he shouted, jumping over the ice which creaked +under him; "turn this way!" he shouted to those with the gun. "It +bears!..." + +The ice bore him but it swayed and creaked, and it was plain that it +would give way not only under a cannon or a crowd, but very soon +even under his weight alone. The men looked at him and pressed to +the bank, hesitating to step onto the ice. The general on horseback at +the entrance to the dam raised his hand and opened his mouth to +address Dolokhov. Suddenly a cannon ball hissed so low above the crowd +that everyone ducked. It flopped into something moist, and the general +fell from his horse in a pool of blood. Nobody gave him a look or +thought of raising him. + +"Get onto the ice, over the ice! Go on! Turn! Don't you hear? Go +on!" innumerable voices suddenly shouted after the ball had struck the +general, the men themselves not knowing what, or why, they were +shouting. + +One of the hindmost guns that was going onto the dam turned off onto +the ice. Crowds of soldiers from the dam began running onto the frozen +pond. The ice gave way under one of the foremost soldiers, and one leg +slipped into the water. He tried to right himself but fell in up to +his waist. The nearest soldiers shrank back, the gun driver stopped +his horse, but from behind still came the shouts: "Onto the ice, why +do you stop? Go on! Go on!" And cries of horror were heard in the +crowd. The soldiers near the gun waved their arms and beat the +horses to make them turn and move on. The horses moved off the bank. +The ice, that had held under those on foot, collapsed in a great mass, +and some forty men who were on it dashed, some forward and some +back, drowning one another. + +Still the cannon balls continued regularly to whistle and flop +onto the ice and into the water and oftenest of all among the crowd +that covered the dam, the pond, and the bank. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +On the Pratzen Heights, where he had fallen with the flagstaff in +his hand, lay Prince Andrew Bolkonski bleeding profusely and +unconsciously uttering a gentle, piteous, and childlike moan. + +Toward evening he ceased moaning and became quite still. He did +not know how long his unconsciousness lasted. Suddenly he again felt +that he was alive and suffering from a burning, lacerating pain in his +head. + +"Where is it, that lofty sky that I did not know till now, but saw +today?" was his first thought. "And I did not know this suffering +either," he thought. "Yes, I did not know anything, anything at all +till now. But where am I?" + +He listened and heard the sound of approaching horses, and voices +speaking French. He opened his eyes. Above him again was the same +lofty sky with clouds that had risen and were floating still higher, +and between them gleamed blue infinity. He did not turn his head and +did not see those who, judging by the sound of hoofs and voices, had +ridden up and stopped near him. + +It was Napoleon accompanied by two aides-de-camp. Bonaparte riding +over the battlefield had given final orders to strengthen the +batteries firing at the Augesd Dam and was looking at the killed and +wounded left on the field. + +"Fine men!" remarked Napoleon, looking at a dead Russian +grenadier, who, with his face buried in the ground and a blackened +nape, lay on his stomach with an already stiffened arm flung wide. + +"The ammunition for the guns in position is exhausted, Your +Majesty," said an adjutant who had come from the batteries that were +firing at Augesd. + +"Have some brought from the reserve," said Napoleon, and having gone +on a few steps he stopped before Prince Andrew, who lay on his back +with the flagstaff that had been dropped beside him. (The flag had +already been taken by the French as a trophy.) + +"That's a fine death!" said Napoleon as he gazed at Bolkonski. + +Prince Andrew understood that this was said of him and that it was +Napoleon who said it. He heard the speaker addressed as Sire. But he +heard the words as he might have heard the buzzing of a fly. Not +only did they not interest him, but he took no notice of them and at +once forgot them. His head was burning, he felt himself bleeding to +death, and he saw above him the remote, lofty, and everlasting sky. He +knew it was Napoleon--his hero--but at that moment Napoleon seemed +to him such a small, insignificant creature compared with what was +passing now between himself and that lofty infinite sky with the +clouds flying over it. At that moment it meant nothing to him who +might be standing over him, or what was said of him; he was only +glad that people were standing near him and only wished that they +would help him and bring him back to life, which seemed to him so +beautiful now that he had today learned to understand it so +differently. He collected all his strength, to stir and utter a sound. +He feebly moved his leg and uttered a weak, sickly groan which aroused +his own pity. + +"Ah! He is alive," said Napoleon. "Lift this young man up and +carry him to the dressing station." + +Having said this, Napoleon rode on to meet Marshal Lannes, who, +hat in hand, rode up smiling to the Emperor to congratulate him on the +victory. + +Prince Andrew remembered nothing more: he lost consciousness from +the terrible pain of being lifted onto the stretcher, the jolting +while being moved, and the probing of his wound at the dressing +station. He did not regain consciousness till late in the day, when +with other wounded and captured Russian officers he was carried to the +hospital. During this transfer he felt a little stronger and was +able to look about him and even speak. + +The first words he heard on coming to his senses were those of a +French convoy officer, who said rapidly: "We must halt here: the +Emperor will pass here immediately; it will please him to see these +gentlemen prisoners." + +"There are so many prisoners today, nearly the whole Russian army, +that he is probably tired of them," said another officer. + +"All the same! They say this one is the commander of all the Emperor +Alexander's Guards," said the first one, indicating a Russian +officer in the white uniform of the Horse Guards. + +Bolkonski recognized Prince Repnin whom he had met in Petersburg +society. Beside him stood a lad of nineteen, also a wounded officer of +the Horse Guards. + +Bonaparte, having come up at a gallop, stopped his horse. + +"Which is the senior?" he asked, on seeing the prisoners. + +They named the colonel, Prince Repnin. + +"You are the commander of the Emperor Alexander's regiment of +Horse Guards?" asked Napoleon. + +"I commanded a squadron," replied Repnin. + +"Your regiment fulfilled its duty honorably," said Napoleon. + +"The praise of a great commander is a soldier's highest reward," +said Repnin. + +"I bestow it with pleasure," said Napoleon. "And who is that young +man beside you?" + +Prince Repnin named Lieutenant Sukhtelen. + +After looking at him Napoleon smiled. + +"He's very young to come to meddle with us." + +"Youth is no hindrance to courage," muttered Sukhtelen in a +failing voice. + +"A splendid reply!" said Napoleon. "Young man, you will go far!" + +Prince Andrew, who had also been brought forward before the +Emperor's eyes to complete the show of prisoners, could not fail to +attract his attention. Napoleon apparently remembered seeing him on +the battlefield and, addressing him, again used the epithet "young +man" that was connected in his memory with Prince Andrew. + +"Well, and you, young man," said he. "How do you feel, mon brave?" + +Though five minutes before, Prince Andrew had been able to say a few +words to the soldiers who were carrying him, now with his eyes fixed +straight on Napoleon, he was silent.... So insignificant at that +moment seemed to him all the interests that engrossed Napoleon, so +mean did his hero himself with his paltry vanity and joy in victory +appear, compared to the lofty, equitable, and kindly sky which he +had seen and understood, that he could not answer him. + +Everything seemed so futile and insignificant in comparison with the +stern and solemn train of thought that weakness from loss of blood, +suffering, and the nearness of death aroused in him. Looking into +Napoleon's eyes Prince Andrew thought of the insignificance of +greatness, the unimportance of life which no one could understand, and +the still greater unimportance of death, the meaning of which no one +alive could understand or explain. + +The Emperor without waiting for an answer turned away and said to +one of the officers as he went: "Have these gentlemen attended to +and taken to my bivouac; let my doctor, Larrey, examine their +wounds. Au revoir, Prince Repnin!" and he spurred his horse and +galloped away. + +His face shone with self-satisfaction and pleasure. + +The soldiers who had carried Prince Andrew had noticed and taken the +little gold icon Princess Mary had hung round her brother's neck, +but seeing the favor the Emperor showed the prisoners, they now +hastened to return the holy image. + +Prince Andrew did not see how and by whom it was replaced, but the +little icon with its thin gold chain suddenly appeared upon his +chest outside his uniform. + +"It would be good," thought Prince Andrew, glancing at the icon his +sister had hung round his neck with such emotion and reverence, "it +would be good if everything were as clear and simple as it seems to +Mary. How good it would be to know where to seek for help in this life, +and what to expect after it beyond the grave! How happy and calm I +should be if I could now say: 'Lord, have mercy on me!'... But to whom +should I say that? Either to a Power indefinable, incomprehensible, +which I not only cannot address but which I cannot even express in +words--the Great All or Nothing-" said he to himself, "or to that God +who has been sewn into this amulet by Mary! There is nothing certain, +nothing at all except the unimportance of everything I understand, and +the greatness of something incomprehensible but all-important." + +The stretchers moved on. At every jolt he again felt unendurable +pain; his feverishness increased and he grew delirious. Visions of his +father, wife, sister, and future son, and the tenderness he had felt +the night before the battle, the figure of the insignificant little +Napoleon, and above all this the lofty sky, formed the chief +subjects of his delirious fancies. + +The quiet home life and peaceful happiness of Bald Hills presented +itself to him. He was already enjoying that happiness when that little +Napoleon had suddenly appeared with his unsympathizing look of +shortsighted delight at the misery of others, and doubts and +torments had followed, and only the heavens promised peace. Toward +morning all these dreams melted and merged into the chaos and darkness +of unconciousness and oblivion which in the opinion of Napoleon's +doctor, Larrey, was much more likely to end in death than in +convalescence. + +"He is a nervous, bilious subject," said Larrey, "and will not +recover." + +And Prince Andrew, with others fatally wounded, was left to the care +of the inhabitants of the district. + + + + + +BOOK FOUR: 1806 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Early in the year 1806 Nicholas Rostov returned home on leave. +Denisov was going home to Voronezh and Rostov persuaded him to +travel with him as far as Moscow and to stay with him there. Meeting a +comrade at the last post station but one before Moscow, Denisov had +drunk three bottles of wine with him and, despite the jolting ruts +across the snow-covered road, did not once wake up on the way to +Moscow, but lay at the bottom of the sleigh beside Rostov, who grew +more and more impatient the nearer they got to Moscow. + +"How much longer? How much longer? Oh, these insufferable streets, +shops, bakers' signboards, street lamps, and sleighs!" thought Rostov, +when their leave permits had been passed at the town gate and they had +entered Moscow. + +"Denisov! We're here! He's asleep," he added, leaning forward with +his whole body as if in that position he hoped to hasten the speed +of the sleigh. + +Denisov gave no answer. + +"There's the corner at the crossroads, where the cabman, Zakhar, has +his stand, and there's Zakhar himself and still the same horse! And +here's the little shop where we used to buy gingerbread! Can't you +hurry up? Now then!" + +"Which house is it?" asked the driver. + +"Why, that one, right at the end, the big one. Don't you see? That's +our house," said Rostov. "Of course, it's our house! Denisov, Denisov! +We're almost there!" + +Denisov raised his head, coughed, and made no answer. + +"Dmitri," said Rostov to his valet on the box, "those lights are +in our house, aren't they?" + +"Yes, sir, and there's a light in your father's study." + +"Then they've not gone to bed yet? What do you think? Mind now, +don't forget to put out my new coat," added Rostov, fingering his +new mustache. "Now then, get on," he shouted to the driver. "Do wake +up, Vaska!" he went on, turning to Denisov, whose head was again +nodding. "Come, get on! You shall have three rubles for vodka--get +on!" Rostov shouted, when the sleigh was only three houses from his +door. It seemed to him the horses were not moving at all. At last +the sleigh bore to the right, drew up at an entrance, and Rostov saw +overhead the old familiar cornice with a bit of plaster broken off, +the porch, and the post by the side of the pavement. He sprang out +before the sleigh stopped, and ran into the hall. The house stood cold +and silent, as if quite regardless of who had come to it. There was no +one in the hall. "Oh God! Is everyone all right?" he thought, stopping +for a moment with a sinking heart, and then immediately starting to +run along the hall and up the warped steps of the familiar +staircase. The well-known old door handle, which always angered the +countess when it was not properly cleaned, turned as loosely as +ever. A solitary tallow candle burned in the anteroom. + +Old Michael was asleep on the chest. Prokofy, the footman, who was +so strong that he could lift the back of the carriage from behind, sat +plaiting slippers out of cloth selvedges. He looked up at the +opening door and his expression of sleepy indifference suddenly +changed to one of delighted amazement. + +"Gracious heavens! The young count!" he cried, recognizing his young +master. "Can it be? My treasure!" and Prokofy, trembling with +excitement, rushed toward the drawing-room door, probably in order +to announce him, but, changing his mind, came back and stooped to kiss +the young man's shoulder. + +"All well?" asked Rostov, drawing away his arm. + +"Yes, God be thanked! Yes! They've just finished supper. Let me have +a look at you, your excellency." + +"Is everything quite all right?" + +"The Lord be thanked, yes!" + +Rostov, who had completely forgotten Denisov, not wishing anyone +to forestall him, threw off his fur coat and ran on tiptoe through the +large dark ballroom. All was the same: there were the same old card +tables and the same chandelier with a cover over it; but someone had +already seen the young master, and, before he had reached the +drawing room, something flew out from a side door like a tornado and +began hugging and kissing him. Another and yet another creature of the +same kind sprang from a second door and a third; more hugging, more +kissing, more outcries, and tears of joy. He could not distinguish +which was Papa, which Natasha, and which Petya. Everyone shouted, +talked, and kissed him at the same time. Only his mother was not +there, he noticed that. + +"And I did not know... Nicholas... My darling!..." + +"Here he is... our own... Kolya,* dear fellow... How he has +changed!... Where are the candles?... Tea!..." + + +*Nicholas. + + +"And me, kiss me!" + +"Dearest... and me!" + +Sonya, Natasha, Petya, Anna Mikhaylovna, Vera, and the old count +were all hugging him, and the serfs, men and maids, flocked into the +room, exclaiming and oh-ing and ah-ing. + +Petya, clinging to his legs, kept shouting, "And me too!" + +Natasha, after she had pulled him down toward her and covered his +face with kisses, holding him tight by the skirt of his coat, sprang +away and pranced up and down in one place like a goat and shrieked +piercingly. + +All around were loving eyes glistening with tears of joy, and all +around were lips seeking a kiss. + +Sonya too, all rosy red, clung to his arm and, radiant with bliss, +looked eagerly toward his eyes, waiting for the look for which she +longed. Sonya now was sixteen and she was very pretty, especially at +this moment of happy, rapturous excitement. She gazed at him, not +taking her eyes off him, and smiling and holding her breath. He gave +her a grateful look, but was still expectant and looking for +someone. The old countess had not yet come. But now steps were heard +at the door, steps so rapid that they could hardly be his mother's. + +Yet it was she, dressed in a new gown which he did not know, made +since he had left. All the others let him go, and he ran to her. +When they met, she fell on his breast, sobbing. She could not lift her +face, but only pressed it to the cold braiding of his hussar's jacket. +Denisov, who had come into the room unnoticed by anyone, stood there +and wiped his eyes at the sight. + +"Vasili Denisov, your son's friend," he said, introducing himself to +the count, who was looking inquiringly at him. + +"You are most welcome! I know, I know," said the count, kissing +and embracing Denisov. "Nicholas wrote us... Natasha, Vera, look! Here +is Denisov!" + +The same happy, rapturous faces turned to the shaggy figure of +Denisov. + +"Darling Denisov!" screamed Natasha, beside herself with rapture, +springing to him, putting her arms round him, and kissing him. This +escapade made everybody feel confused. Denisov blushed too, but smiled +and, taking Natasha's hand, kissed it. + +Denisov was shown to the room prepared for him, and the Rostovs +all gathered round Nicholas in the sitting room. + +The old countess, not letting go of his hand and kissing it every +moment, sat beside him: the rest, crowding round him, watched every +movement, word, or look of his, never taking their blissfully +adoring eyes off him. His brother and sisters struggled for the places +nearest to him and disputed with one another who should bring him +his tea, handkerchief, and pipe. + +Rostov was very happy in the love they showed him; but the first +moment of meeting had been so beatific that his present joy seemed +insufficient, and he kept expecting something more, more and yet more. + +Next morning, after the fatigues of their journey, the travelers +slept till ten o'clock. + +In the room next their bedroom there was a confusion of sabers, +satchels, sabretaches, open portmanteaus, and dirty boots. Two freshly +cleaned pairs with spurs had just been placed by the wall. The +servants were bringing in jugs and basins, hot water for shaving, +and their well-brushed clothes. There was a masculine odor and a smell +of tobacco. + +"Hallo, Gwiska--my pipe!" came Vasili Denisov's husky voice. +"Wostov, get up!" + +Rostov, rubbing his eyes that seemed glued together, raised his +disheveled head from the hot pillow. + +"Why, is it late?" + +"Late! It's nearly ten o'clock," answered Natasha's voice. A +rustle of starched petticoats and the whispering and laughter of +girls' voices came from the adjoining room. The door was opened a +crack and there was a glimpse of something blue, of ribbons, black +hair, and merry faces. It was Natasha, Sonya, and Petya, who had +come to see whether they were getting up. + +"Nicholas! Get up!" Natasha's voice was again heard at the door. + +"Directly!" + +Meanwhile, Petya, having found and seized the sabers in the outer +room, with the delight boys feel at the sight of a military elder +brother, and forgetting that it was unbecoming for the girls to see +men undressed, opened the bedroom door. + +"Is this your saber?" he shouted. + +The girls sprang aside. Denisov hid his hairy legs under the +blanket, looking with a scared face at his comrade for help. The door, +having let Petya in, closed again. A sound of laughter came from +behind it. + +"Nicholas! Come out in your dressing gown!" said Natasha's voice. + +"Is this your saber?" asked Petya. "Or is it yours?" he said, +addressing the black-mustached Denisov with servile deference. + +Rostov hurriedly put something on his feet, drew on his dressing +gown, and went out. Natasha had put on one spurred boot and was just +getting her foot into the other. Sonya, when he came in, was +twirling round and was about to expand her dresses into a balloon +and sit down. They were dressed alike, in new pale-blue frocks, and +were both fresh, rosy, and bright. Sonya ran away, but Natasha, taking +her brother's arm, led him into the sitting room, where they began +talking. They hardly gave one another time to ask questions and give +replies concerning a thousand little matters which could not +interest anyone but themselves. Natasha laughed at every word he +said or that she said herself, not because what they were saying was +amusing, but because she felt happy and was unable to control her +joy which expressed itself by laughter. + +"Oh, how nice, how splendid!" she said to everything. + +Rostov felt that, under the influence of the warm rays of love, that +childlike smile which had not once appeared on his face since he +left home now for the first time after eighteen months again +brightened his soul and his face. + +"No, but listen," she said, "now you are quite a man, aren't you? +I'm awfully glad you're my brother." She touched his mustache. "I want +to know what you men are like. Are you the same as we? No?" + +"Why did Sonya run away?" asked Rostov. + +"Ah, yes! That's a whole long story! How are you going to speak to +her--thou or you?" + +"As may happen," said Rostov. + +"No, call her you, please! I'll tell you all about it some other +time. No, I'll tell you now. You know Sonya's my dearest friend. +Such a friend that I burned my arm for her sake. Look here!" + +She pulled up her muslin sleeve and showed him a red scar on her +long, slender, delicate arm, high above the elbow on that part that is +covered even by a ball dress. + +"I burned this to prove my love for her. I just heated a ruler in +the fire and pressed it there!" + +Sitting on the sofa with the little cushions on its arms, in what +used to be his old schoolroom, and looking into Natasha's wildly +bright eyes, Rostov re-entered that world of home and childhood +which had no meaning for anyone else, but gave him some of the best +joys of his life; and the burning of an arm with a ruler as a proof of +love did not seem to him senseless, he understood and was not +surprised at it. + +"Well, and is that all?" he asked. + +"We are such friends, such friends! All that ruler business was just +nonsense, but we are friends forever. She, if she loves anyone, does +it for life, but I don't understand that, I forget quickly." + +"Well, what then?" + +"Well, she loves me and you like that." + +Natasha suddenly flushed. + +"Why, you remember before you went away?... Well, she says you are +to forget all that.... She says: 'I shall love him always, but let him +be free.' Isn't that lovely and noble! Yes, very noble? Isn't it?" +asked Natasha, so seriously and excitedly that it was evident that +what she was now saying she had talked of before, with tears. + +Rostov became thoughtful. + +"I never go back on my word," he said. "Besides, Sonya is so +charming that only a fool would renounce such happiness." + +"No, no!" cried Natasha, "she and I have already talked it over. +We knew you'd say so. But it won't do, because you see, if you say +that--if you consider yourself bound by your promise--it will seem +as if she had not meant it seriously. It makes it as if you were +marrying her because you must, and that wouldn't do at all." + +Rostov saw that it had been well considered by them. Sonya had +already struck him by her beauty on the preceding day. Today, when +he had caught a glimpse of her, she seemed still more lovely. She +was a charming girl of sixteen, evidently passionately in love with +him (he did not doubt that for an instant). Why should he not love her +now, and even marry her, Rostov thought, but just now there were so +many other pleasures and interests before him! "Yes, they have taken a +wise decision," he thought, "I must remain free." + +"Well then, that's excellent," said he. "We'll talk it over later +on. Oh, how glad I am to have you!" + +"Well, and are you still true to Boris?" he continued. + +"Oh, what nonsense!" cried Natasha, laughing. "I don't think about +him or anyone else, and I don't want anything of the kind." + +"Dear me! Then what are you up to now?" + +"Now?" repeated Natasha, and a happy smile lit up her face. "Have +you seen Duport?" + +"No." + +"Not seen Duport--the famous dancer? Well then, you won't +understand. That's what I'm up to." + +Curving her arms, Natasha held out her skirts as dancers do, ran +back a few steps, turned, cut a caper, brought her little feet sharply +together, and made some steps on the very tips of her toes. + +"See, I'm standing! See!" she said, but could not maintain herself +on her toes any longer. "So that's what I'm up to! I'll never marry +anyone, but will be a dancer. Only don't tell anyone." + +Rostov laughed so loud and merrily that Denisov, in his bedroom, +felt envious and Natasha could not help joining in. + +"No, but don't you think it's nice?" she kept repeating. + +"Nice! And so you no longer wish to marry Boris?" + +Natasha flared up. "I don't want to marry anyone. And I'll tell +him so when I see him!" + +"Dear me!" said Rostov. + +"But that's all rubbish," Natasha chattered on. "And is Denisov +nice?" she asked. + +"Yes, indeed!" + +"Oh, well then, good-by: go and dress. Is he very terrible, +Denisov?" + +"Why terrible?" asked Nicholas. "No, Vaska is a splendid fellow." + +"You call him Vaska? That's funny! And is he very nice?" + +"Very." + +"Well then, be quick. We'll all have breakfast together." + +And Natasha rose and went out of the room on tiptoe, like a ballet +dancer, but smiling as only happy girls of fifteen can smile. When +Rostov met Sonya in the drawing room, he reddened. He did not know how +to behave with her. The evening before, in the first happy moment of +meeting, they had kissed each other, but today they felt it could not +be done; he felt that everybody, including his mother and sisters, was +looking inquiringly at him and watching to see how he would behave +with her. He kissed her hand and addressed her not as thou but as +you--Sonya. But their eyes met and said thou, and exchanged tender +kisses. Her looks asked him to forgive her for having dared, by +Natasha's intermediacy, to remind him of his promise, and then thanked +him for his love. His looks thanked her for offering him his freedom +and told her that one way or another he would never cease to love her, +for that would be impossible. + +"How strange it is," said Vera, selecting a moment when all were +silent, "that Sonya and Nicholas now say you to one another and meet +like strangers." + +Vera's remark was correct, as her remarks always were, but, like most +of her observations, it made everyone feel uncomfortable, not only +Sonya, Nicholas, and Natasha, but even the old countess, who--dreading +this love affair which might hinder Nicholas from making a brilliant +match--blushed like a girl. + +Denisov, to Rostov's surprise, appeared in the drawing room with +pomaded hair, perfumed, and in a new uniform, looking just as smart as +he made himself when going into battle, and he was more amiable to the +ladies and gentlemen than Rostov had ever expected to see him. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +On his return to Moscow from the army, Nicholas Rostov was +welcomed by his home circle as the best of sons, a hero, and their +darling Nikolenka; by his relations as a charming, attractive, and +polite young man; by his acquaintances as a handsome lieutenant of +hussars, a good dancer, and one of the best matches in the city. + +The Rostovs knew everybody in Moscow. The old count had money enough +that year, as all his estates had been remortgaged, and so Nicholas, +acquiring a trotter of his own, very stylish riding breeches of the +latest cut, such as no one else yet had in Moscow, and boots of the +latest fashion, with extremely pointed toes and small silver spurs, +passed his time very gaily. After a short period of adapting himself +to the old conditions of life, Nicholas found it very pleasant to be +at home again. He felt that he had grown up and matured very much. His +despair at failing in a Scripture examination, his borrowing money +from Gavril to pay a sleigh driver, his kissing Sonya on the sly--he +now recalled all this as childishness he had left immeasurably behind. +Now he was a lieutenant of hussars, in a jacket laced with silver, and +wearing the Cross of St. George, awarded to soldiers for bravery in +action, and in the company of well-known, elderly, and respected +racing men was training a trotter of his own for a race. He knew a +lady on one of the boulevards whom he visited of an evening. He led +the mazurka at the Arkharovs' ball, talked about the war with Field +Marshal Kamenski, visited the English Club, and was on intimate +terms with a colonel of forty to whom Denisov had introduced him. + +His passion for the Emperor had cooled somewhat in Moscow. But +still, as he did not see him and had no opportunity of seeing him, +he often spoke about him and about his love for him, letting it be +understood that he had not told all and that there was something in +his feelings for the Emperor not everyone could understand, and with +his whole soul he shared the adoration then common in Moscow for the +Emperor, who was spoken of as the "angel incarnate." + +During Rostov's short stay in Moscow, before rejoining the army, +he did not draw closer to Sonya, but rather drifted away from her. She +was very pretty and sweet, and evidently deeply in love with him, +but he was at the period of youth when there seems so much to do +that there is no time for that sort of thing and a young man fears +to bind himself and prizes his freedom which he needs for so many +other things. When he thought of Sonya, during this stay in Moscow, he +said to himself, "Ah, there will be, and there are, many more such +girls somewhere whom I do not yet know. There will be time enough to +think about love when I want to, but now I have no time." Besides, +it seemed to him that the society of women was rather derogatory to +his manhood. He went to balls and into ladies' society with an +affectation of doing so against his will. The races, the English Club, +sprees with Denisov, and visits to a certain house--that was another +matter and quite the thing for a dashing young hussar! + +At the beginning of March, old Count Ilya Rostov was very busy +arranging a dinner in honor of Prince Bagration at the English Club. + +The count walked up and down the hall in his dressing gown, giving +orders to the club steward and to the famous Feoktist, the Club's head +cook, about asparagus, fresh cucumbers, strawberries, veal, and fish +for this dinner. The count had been a member and on the committee of +the Club from the day it was founded. To him the Club entrusted the +arrangement of the festival in honor of Bagration, for few men knew so +well how to arrange a feast on an open-handed, hospitable scale, and +still fewer men would be so well able and willing to make up out of +their own resources what might be needed for the success of the +fete. The club cook and the steward listened to the count's orders +with pleased faces, for they knew that under no other management could +they so easily extract a good profit for themselves from a dinner +costing several thousand rubles. + +"Well then, mind and have cocks' comb in the turtle soup, you know!" + +"Shall we have three cold dishes then?" asked the cook. + +The count considered. + +"We can't have less--yes, three... the mayonnaise, that's one," said +he, bending down a finger. + +"Then am I to order those large sterlets?" asked the steward. + +"Yes, it can't be helped if they won't take less. Ah, dear me! I was +forgetting. We must have another entree. Ah, goodness gracious!" he +clutched at his head. "Who is going to get me the flowers? Dmitri! Eh, +Dmitri! Gallop off to our Moscow estate," he said to the factotum +who appeared at his call. "Hurry off and tell Maksim, the gardener, to +set the serfs to work. Say that everything out of the hothouses must +be brought here well wrapped up in felt. I must have two hundred +pots here on Friday." + +Having given several more orders, he was about to go to his +"little countess" to have a rest, but remembering something else of +importance, he returned again, called back the cook and the club +steward, and again began giving orders. A light footstep and the +clinking of spurs were heard at the door, and the young count, +handsome, rosy, with a dark little mustache, evidently rested and made +sleeker by his easy life in Moscow, entered the room. + +"Ah, my boy, my head's in a whirl!" said the old man with a smile, +as if he felt a little confused before his son. "Now, if you would +only help a bit! I must have singers too. I shall have my own +orchestra, but shouldn't we get the gypsy singers as well? You +military men like that sort of thing." + +"Really, Papa, I believe Prince Bagration worried himself less +before the battle of Schon Grabern than you do now," said his son with +a smile. + +The old count pretended to be angry. + +"Yes, you talk, but try it yourself!" + +And the count turned to the cook, who, with a shrewd and +respectful expression, looked observantly and sympathetically at the +father and son. + +"What have the young people come to nowadays, eh, Feoktist?" said +he. "Laughing at us old fellows!" + +"That's so, your excellency, all they have to do is to eat a good +dinner, but providing it and serving it all up, that's not their +business!" + +"That's it, that's it!" exclaimed the count, and gaily seizing his +son by both hands, he cried, "Now I've got you, so take the sleigh and +pair at once, and go to Bezukhov's, and tell him 'Count Ilya has +sent you to ask for strawberries and fresh pineapples.' We can't get +them from anyone else. He's not there himself, so you'll have to go in +and ask the princesses; and from there go on to the Rasgulyay--the +coachman Ipatka knows--and look up the gypsy Ilyushka, the one who +danced at Count Orlov's, you remember, in a white Cossack coat, and +bring him along to me." + +"And am I to bring the gypsy girls along with him?" asked +Nicholas, laughing. "Dear, dear!..." + +At that moment, with noiseless footsteps and with the +businesslike, preoccupied, yet meekly Christian look which never +left her face, Anna Mikhaylovna entered the hall. Though she came upon +the count in his dressing gown every day, he invariably became +confused and begged her to excuse his costume. + +"No matter at all, my dear count," she said, meekly closing her +eyes. "But I'll go to Bezukhov's myself. Pierre has arrived, and now +we shall get anything we want from his hothouses. I have to see him in +any case. He has forwarded me a letter from Boris. Thank God, Boris is +now on the staff." + +The count was delighted at Anna Mikhaylovna's taking upon herself +one of his commissions and ordered the small closed carriage for her. + +"Tell Bezukhov to come. I'll put his name down. Is his wife with +him?" he asked. + +Anna Mikhaylovna turned up her eyes, and profound sadness was +depicted on her face. + +"Ah, my dear friend, he is very unfortunate," she said. "If what +we hear is true, it is dreadful. How little we dreamed of such a thing +when we were rejoicing at his happiness! And such a lofty angelic soul +as young Bezukhov! Yes, I pity him from my heart, and shall try to +give him what consolation I can." + +"Wh-what is the matter?" asked both the young and old Rostov. + +Anna Mikhaylovna sighed deeply. + +"Dolokhov, Mary Ivanovna's son," she said in a mysterious whisper, +"has compromised her completely, they say. Pierre took him up, invited +him to his house in Petersburg, and now... she has come here and +that daredevil after her!" said Anna Mikhaylovna, wishing to show +her sympathy for Pierre, but by involuntary intonations and a half +smile betraying her sympathy for the "daredevil," as she called +Dolokhov. "They say Pierre is quite broken by his misfortune." + +"Dear, dear! But still tell him to come to the Club--it will all +blow over. It will be a tremendous banquet." + +Next day, the third of March, soon after one o'clock, two hundred +and fifty members of the English Club and fifty guests were awaiting +the guest of honor and hero of the Austrian campaign, Prince +Bagration, to dinner. + +On the first arrival of the news of the battle of Austerlitz, Moscow +had been bewildered. At that time, the Russians were so used to +victories that on receiving news of the defeat some would simply not +believe it, while others sought some extraordinary explanation of so +strange an event. In the English Club, where all who were +distinguished, important, and well informed foregathered when the +news began to arrive in December, nothing was said about the war and +the last battle, as though all were in a conspiracy of silence. The +men who set the tone in conversation--Count Rostopchin, Prince Yuri +Dolgorukov, Valuev, Count Markov, and Prince Vyazemski--did not show +themselves at the Club, but met in private houses in intimate circles, +and the Moscovites who took their opinions from others--Ilya Rostov +among them--remained for a while without any definite opinion on the +subject of the war and without leaders. The Moscovites felt that +something was wrong and that to discuss the bad news was difficult, +and so it was best to be silent. But after a while, just as a jury +comes out of its room, the bigwigs who guided the Club's opinion +reappeared, and everybody began speaking clearly and definitely. +Reasons were found for the incredible, unheard-of, and impossible +event of a Russian defeat, everything became clear, and in all corners +of Moscow the same things began to be said. These reasons were the +treachery of the Austrians, a defective commissariat, the treachery of +the Pole Przebyszewski and of the Frenchman Langeron, Kutuzov's +incapacity, and (it was whispered) the youth and inexperience of the +sovereign, who had trusted worthless and insignificant people. But the +army, the Russian army, everyone declared, was extraordinary and had +achieved miracles of valor. The soldiers, officers, and generals were +heroes. But the hero of heroes was Prince Bagration, distinguished +by his Schon Grabern affair and by the retreat from Austerlitz, +where he alone had withdrawn his column unbroken and had all day +beaten back an enemy force twice as numerous as his own. What also +conduced to Bagration's being selected as Moscow's hero was the fact +that he had no connections in the city and was a stranger there. In +his person, honor was shown to a simple fighting Russian soldier +without connections and intrigues, and to one who was associated by +memories of the Italian campaign with the name of Suvorov. Moreover, +paying such honor to Bagration was the best way of expressing +disapproval and dislike of Kutuzov. + +"Had there been no Bagration, it would have been necessary to invent +him," said the wit Shinshin, parodying the words of Voltaire. +Kutuzov no one spoke of, except some who abused him in whispers, +calling him a court weathercock and an old satyr. + +All Moscow repeated Prince Dolgorukov's saying: "If you go on +modeling and modeling you must get smeared with clay," suggesting +consolation for our defeat by the memory of former victories; and +the words of Rostopchin, that French soldiers have to be incited to +battle by highfalutin words, and Germans by logical arguments to +show them that it is more dangerous to run away than to advance, but +that Russian soldiers only need to be restrained and held back! On all +sides, new and fresh anecdotes were heard of individual examples of +heroism shown by our officers and men at Austerlitz. One had saved a +standard, another had killed five Frenchmen, a third had loaded five +cannon singlehanded. Berg was mentioned, by those who did not know +him, as having, when wounded in the right hand, taken his sword in the +left, and gone forward. Of Bolkonski, nothing was said, and only those +who knew him intimately regretted that he had died so young, leaving a +pregnant wife with his eccentric father. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On that third of March, all the rooms in the English Club were +filled with a hum of conversation, like the hum of bees swarming in +springtime. The members and guests of the Club wandered hither and +thither, sat, stood, met, and separated, some in uniform and some in +evening dress, and a few here and there with powdered hair and in +Russian kaftans. Powdered footmen, in livery with buckled shoes and +smart stockings, stood at every door anxiously noting visitors' +every movement in order to offer their services. Most of those present +were elderly, respected men with broad, self-confident faces, fat +fingers, and resolute gestures and voices. This class of guests and +members sat in certain habitual places and met in certain habitual +groups. A minority of those present were casual guests--chiefly +young men, among whom were Denisov, Rostov, and Dolokhov--who was +now again an officer in the Semenov regiment. The faces of these young +people, especially those who were military men, bore that expression of +condescending respect for their elders which seems to say to the older +generation, "We are prepared to respect and honor you, but all the +same remember that the future belongs to us." + +Nesvitski was there as an old member of the Club. Pierre, who at his +wife's command had let his hair grow and abandoned his spectacles, +went about the rooms fashionably dressed but looking sad and dull. +Here, as elsewhere, he was surrounded by an atmosphere of subservience +to his wealth, and being in the habit of lording it over these people, +he treated them with absent-minded contempt. + +By his age he should have belonged to the younger men, but by his +wealth and connections he belonged to the groups old and honored +guests, and so he went from one group to another. Some of the most +important old men were the center of groups which even strangers +approached respectfully to hear the voices of well-known men. The +largest circles formed round Count Rostopchin, Valuev, and +Naryshkin. Rostopchin was describing how the Russians had been +overwhelmed by flying Austrians and had had to force their way through +them with bayonets. + +Valuev was confidentially telling that Uvarov had been sent from +Petersburg to ascertain what Moscow was thinking about Austerlitz. + +In the third circle, Naryshkin was speaking of the meeting of the +Austrian Council of War at which Suvorov crowed like a cock in reply +to the nonsense talked by the Austrian generals. Shinshin, standing +close by, tried to make a joke, saying that Kutuzov had evidently +failed to learn from Suvorov even so simple a thing as the art of +crowing like a cock, but the elder members glanced severely at the +wit, making him feel that in that place and on that day, it was +improper to speak so of Kutuzov. + +Count Ilya Rostov, hurried and preoccupied, went about in his soft +boots between the dining and drawing rooms, hastily greeting the +important and unimportant, all of whom he knew, as if they were all +equals, while his eyes occasionally sought out his fine well-set-up +young son, resting on him and winking joyfully at him. Young Rostov +stood at a window with Dolokhov, whose acquaintance he had lately made +and highly valued. The old count came up to them and pressed +Dolokhov's hand. + +"Please come and visit us... you know my brave boy... been +together out there... both playing the hero... Ah, Vasili +Ignatovich... How d'ye do, old fellow?" he said, turning to an old man +who was passing, but before he had finished his greeting there was a +general stir, and a footman who had run in announced, with a +frightened face: "He's arrived!" + +Bells rang, the stewards rushed forward, and--like rye shaken +together in a shovel--the guests who had been scattered about in +different rooms came together and crowded in the large drawing room by +the door of the ballroom. + +Bagration appeared in the doorway of the anteroom without hat or +sword, which, in accord with the Club custom, he had given up to the +hall porter. He had no lambskin cap on his head, nor had he a loaded +whip over his shoulder, as when Rostov had seen him on the eve of +the battle of Austerlitz, but wore a tight new uniform with Russian +and foreign Orders, and the Star of St. George on his left breast. +Evidently just before coming to the dinner he had had his hair and +whiskers trimmed, which changed his appearance for the worse. There +was something naively festive in his air, which, in conjunction with +his firm and virile features, gave him a rather comical expression. +Bekleshev and Theodore Uvarov, who had arrived with him, paused at the +doorway to allow him, as the guest of honor, to enter first. Bagration +was embarrassed, not wishing to avail himself of their courtesy, and +this caused some delay at the doors, but after all he did at last +enter first. He walked shyly and awkwardly over the parquet floor of +the reception room, not knowing what to do with his hands; he was more +accustomed to walk over a plowed field under fire, as he had done at +the head of the Kursk regiment at Schon Grabern--and he would have +found that easier. The committeemen met him at the first door and, +expressing their delight at seeing such a highly honored guest, took +possession of him as it were, without waiting for his reply, +surrounded him, and led him to the drawing room. It was at first +impossible to enter the drawing-room door for the crowd of members and +guests jostling one another and trying to get a good look at Bagration +over each other's shoulders, as if he were some rare animal. Count +Ilya Rostov, laughing and repeating the words, "Make way, dear boy! +Make way, make way!" pushed through the crowd more energetically +than anyone, led the guests into the drawing room, and seated them +on the center sofa. The bigwigs, the most respected members of the +Club, beset the new arrivals. Count Ilya, again thrusting his way +through the crowd, went out of the drawing room and reappeared a +minute later with another committeeman, carrying a large silver salver +which he presented to Prince Bagration. On the salver lay some +verses composed and printed in the hero's honor. Bagration, on +seeing the salver, glanced around in dismay, as though seeking help. +But all eyes demanded that he should submit. Feeling himself in +their power, he resolutely took the salver with both hands and +looked sternly and reproachfully at the count who had presented it +to him. Someone obligingly took the dish from Bagration (or he +would, it seemed, have held it till evening and have gone in to dinner +with it) and drew his attention to the verses. + +"Well, I will read them, then!" Bagration seemed to say, and, fixing +his weary eyes on the paper, began to read them with a fixed and +serious expression. But the author himself took the verses and began +reading them aloud. Bagration bowed his head and listened: + + Bring glory then to Alexander's reign + And on the throne our Titus shield. + A dreaded foe be thou, kindhearted as a man, + A Rhipheus at home, a Caesar in the field! + E'en fortunate Napoleon + Knows by experience, now, Bagration, + And dare not Herculean Russians trouble... + +But before he had finished reading, a stentorian major-domo +announced that dinner was ready! The door opened, and from the +dining room came the resounding strains of the polonaise: + + Conquest's joyful thunder waken, + Triumph, valiant Russians, now!... + +and Count Rostov, glancing angrily at the author who went on reading +his verses, bowed to Bagration. Everyone rose, feeling that dinner was +more important than verses, and Bagration, again preceding all the +rest, went in to dinner. He was seated in the place of honor between +two Alexanders--Bekleshev and Naryshkin--which was a significant +allusion to the name of the sovereign. Three hundred persons took +their seats in the dining room, according to their rank and +importance: the more important nearer to the honored guest, as +naturally as water flows deepest where the land lies lowest. + +Just before dinner, Count Ilya Rostov presented his son to +Bagration, who recognized him and said a few words to him, +disjointed and awkward, as were all the words he spoke that day, and +Count Ilya looked joyfully and proudly around while Bagration spoke to +his son. + +Nicholas Rostov, with Denisov and his new acquaintance, Dolokhov, +sat almost at the middle of the table. Facing them sat Pierre, +beside Prince Nesvitski. Count Ilya Rostov with the other members of +the committee sat facing Bagration and, as the very personification of +Moscow hospitality, did the honors to the prince. + +His efforts had not been in vain. The dinner, both the Lenten and +the other fare, was splendid, yet he could not feel quite at ease till +the end of the meal. He winked at the butler, whispered directions +to the footmen, and awaited each expected dish with some anxiety. +Everything was excellent. With the second course, a gigantic sterlet +(at sight of which Ilya Rostov blushed with self-conscious +pleasure), the footmen began popping corks and filling the champagne +glasses. After the fish, which made a certain sensation, the count +exchanged glances with the other committeemen. "There will be many +toasts, it's time to begin," he whispered, and taking up his glass, he +rose. All were silent, waiting for what he would say. + +"To the health of our Sovereign, the Emperor!" he cried, and at +the same moment his kindly eyes grew moist with tears of joy and +enthusiasm. The band immediately struck up "Conquest's joyful +thunder waken..." All rose and cried "Hurrah!" Bagration also rose and +shouted "Hurrah!" in exactly the same voice in which he had shouted it +on the field at Schon Grabern. Young Rostov's ecstatic voice could +be heard above the three hundred others. He nearly wept. "To the +health of our Sovereign, the Emperor!" he roared, "Hurrah!" and +emptying his glass at one gulp he dashed it to the floor. Many +followed his example, and the loud shouting continued for a long time. +When the voices subsided, the footmen cleared away the broken glass +and everybody sat down again, smiling at the noise they had made and +exchanging remarks. The old count rose once more, glanced at a note +lying beside his plate, and proposed a toast, "To the health of the +hero of our last campaign, Prince Peter Ivanovich Bagration!" and +again his blue eyes grew moist. "Hurrah!" cried the three hundred +voices again, but instead of the band a choir began singing a +cantata composed by Paul Ivanovich Kutuzov: + + Russians! O'er all barriers on! + Courage conquest guarantees; + Have we not Bagration? + He brings foe men to their knees,... etc. + + +As soon as the singing was over, another and another toast was +proposed and Count Ilya Rostov became more and more moved, more +glass was smashed, and the shouting grew louder. They drank to +Bekleshev, Naryshkin, Uvarov, Dolgorukov, Apraksin, Valuev, to the +committee, to all the Club members and to all the Club guests, and +finally to Count Ilya Rostov separately, as the organizer of the +banquet. At that toast, the count took out his handkerchief and, +covering his face, wept outright. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Pierre sat opposite Dolokhov and Nicholas Rostov. As usual, he ate +and drank much, and eagerly. But those who knew him intimately noticed +that some great change had come over him that day. He was silent all +through dinner and looked about, blinking and scowling, or, with fixed +eyes and a look of complete absent-mindedness, kept rubbing the bridge +of his nose. His face was depressed and gloomy. He seemed to see and +hear nothing of what was going on around him and to be absorbed by +some depressing and unsolved problem. + +The unsolved problem that tormented him was caused by hints given by +the princess, his cousin, at Moscow, concerning Dolokhov's intimacy +with his wife, and by an anonymous letter he had received that +morning, which in the mean jocular way common to anonymous letters +said that he saw badly through his spectacles, but that his wife's +connection with Dolokhov was a secret to no one but himself. Pierre +absolutely disbelieved both the princess' hints and the letter, but he +feared now to look at Dolokhov, who was sitting opposite him. Every +time he chanced to meet Dolokhov's handsome insolent eyes, Pierre felt +something terrible and monstrous rising in his soul and turned quickly +away. Involuntarily recalling his wife's past and her relations with +Dolokhov, Pierre saw clearly that what was said in the letter might be +true, or might at least seem to be true had it not referred to his +wife. He involuntarily remembered how Dolokhov, who had fully +recovered his former position after the campaign, had returned to +Petersburg and come to him. Availing himself of his friendly relations +with Pierre as a boon companion, Dolokhov had come straight to his +house, and Pierre had put him up and lent him money. Pierre recalled +how Helene had smilingly expressed disapproval of Dolokhov's living at +their house, and how cynically Dolokhov had praised his wife's +beauty to him and from that time till they came to Moscow had not left +them for a day. + +"Yes, he is very handsome," thought Pierre, "and I know him. It +would be particularly pleasant to him to dishonor my name and ridicule +me, just because I have exerted myself on his behalf, befriended +him, and helped him. I know and understand what a spice that would add +to the pleasure of deceiving me, if it really were true. Yes, if it +were true, but I do not believe it. I have no right to, and can't, +believe it." He remembered the expression Dolokhov's face assumed in +his moments of cruelty, as when tying the policeman to the bear and +dropping them into the water, or when he challenged a man to a duel +without any reason, or shot a post-boy's horse with a pistol. That +expression was often on Dolokhov's face when looking at him. "Yes, +he is a bully," thought Pierre, "to kill a man means nothing to him. +It must seem to him that everyone is afraid of him, and that must +please him. He must think that I, too, am afraid of him--and in fact I +am afraid of him," he thought, and again he felt something terrible +and monstrous rising in his soul. Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov were +now sitting opposite Pierre and seemed very gay. Rostov was talking +merrily to his two friends, one of whom was a dashing hussar and the +other a notorious duelist and rake, and every now and then he +glanced ironically at Pierre, whose preoccupied, absent-minded, and +massive figure was a very noticeable one at the dinner. Rostov +looked inimically at Pierre, first because Pierre appeared to his +hussar eyes as a rich civilian, the husband of a beauty, and in a +word--an old woman; and secondly because Pierre in his preoccupation +and absent-mindedness had not recognized Rostov and had not +responded to his greeting. When the Emperor's health was drunk, +Pierre, lost in thought, did not rise or lift his glass. + +"What are you about?" shouted Rostov, looking at him in an ecstasy +of exasperation. "Don't you hear it's His Majesty the Emperor's +health?" + +Pierre sighed, rose submissively, emptied his glass, and, waiting +till all were seated again, turned with his kindly smile to Rostov. + +"Why, I didn't recognize you!" he said. But Rostov was otherwise +engaged; he was shouting "Hurrah!" + +"Why don't you renew the acquaintance?" said Dolokhov to Rostov. + +"Confound him, he's a fool!" said Rostov. + +"One should make up to the husbands of pretty women," said Denisov. + +Pierre did not catch what they were saying, but knew they were +talking about him. He reddened and turned away. + +"Well, now to the health of handsome women!" said Dolokhov, and with +a serious expression, but with a smile lurking at the corners of his +mouth, he turned with his glass to Pierre. + +"Here's to the health of lovely women, Peterkin--and their +lovers!" he added. + +Pierre, with downcast eyes, drank out of his glass without looking +at Dolokhov or answering him. The footman, who was distributing +leaflets with Kutuzov's cantata, laid one before Pierre as one of +the principal guests. He was just going to take it when Dolokhov, +leaning across, snatched it from his hand and began reading it. Pierre +looked at Dolokhov and his eyes dropped, the something terrible and +monstrous that had tormented him all dinnertime rose and took +possession of him. He leaned his whole massive body across the table. + +"How dare you take it?" he shouted. + +Hearing that cry and seeing to whom it was addressed, Nesvitski +and the neighbor on his right quickly turned in alarm to Bezukhov. + +"Don't! Don't! What are you about?" whispered their frightened +voices. + +Dolokhov looked at Pierre with clear, mirthful, cruel eyes, and that +smile of his which seemed to say, "Ah! This is what I like!" + +"You shan't have it!" he said distinctly. + +Pale, with quivering lips, Pierre snatched the copy. + +"You...! you... scoundrel! I challenge you!" he ejaculated, and, +pushing back his chair, he rose from the table. + +At the very instant he did this and uttered those words, Pierre felt +that the question of his wife's guilt which had been tormenting him +the whole day was finally and indubitably answered in the affirmative. +He hated her and was forever sundered from her. Despite Denisov's +request that he would take no part in the matter, Rostov agreed to +be Dolokhov's second, and after dinner he discussed the arrangements +for the duel with Nesvitski, Bezukhov's second. Pierre went home, +but Rostov with Dolokhov and Denisov stayed on at the Club till +late, listening to the gypsies and other singers. + +"Well then, till tomorrow at Sokolniki," said Dolokhov, as he took +leave of Rostov in the Club porch. + +"And do you feel quite calm?" Rostov asked. + +Dolokhov paused. + +"Well, you see, I'll tell you the whole secret of dueling in two +words. If you are going to fight a duel, and you make a will and write +affectionate letters to your parents, and if you think you may be +killed, you are a fool and are lost for certain. But go with the +firm intention of killing your man as quickly and surely as +possible, and then all will be right, as our bear huntsman at Kostroma +used to tell me. 'Everyone fears a bear,' he says, 'but when you see +one your fear's all gone, and your only thought is not to let him +get away!' And that's how it is with me. A demain, mon cher."* + + +*Till tomorrow, my dear fellow. + + +Next day, at eight in the morning, Pierre and Nesvitski drove to the +Sokolniki forest and found Dolokhov, Denisov, and Rostov already +there. Pierre had the air of a man preoccupied with considerations +which had no connection with the matter in hand. His haggard face +was yellow. He had evidently not slept that night. He looked about +distractedly and screwed up his eyes as if dazzled by the sun. He +was entirely absorbed by two considerations: his wife's guilt, of +which after his sleepless night he had not the slightest doubt, and +the guiltlessness of Dolokhov, who had no reason to preserve the honor +of a man who was nothing to him.... "I should perhaps have done the +same thing in his place," thought Pierre. "It's even certain that I +should have done the same, then why this duel, this murder? Either I +shall kill him, or he will hit me in the head, or elbow, or knee. +Can't I go away from here, run away, bury myself somewhere?" passed +through his mind. But just at moments when such thoughts occurred to +him, he would ask in a particularly calm and absent-minded way, +which inspired the respect of the onlookers, "Will it be long? Are +things ready?" + +When all was ready, the sabers stuck in the snow to mark the +barriers, and the pistols loaded, Nesvitski went up to Pierre. + +"I should not be doing my duty, Count," he said in timid tones, "and +should not justify your confidence and the honor you have done me in +choosing me for your second, if at this grave, this very grave, moment +I did not tell you the whole truth. I think there is no sufficient +ground for this affair, or for blood to be shed over it.... You were +not right, not quite in the right, you were impetuous..." + +"Oh yes, it is horribly stupid," said Pierre. + +"Then allow me to express your regrets, and I am sure your +opponent will accept them," said Nesvitski (who like the others +concerned in the affair, and like everyone in similar cases, did not +yet believe that the affair had come to an actual duel). "You know, +Count, it is much more honorable to admit one's mistake than to let +matters become irreparable. There was no insult on either side. +Allow me to convey...." + +"No! What is there to talk about?" said Pierre. "It's all the +same.... Is everything ready?" he added. "Only tell me where to go and +where to shoot," he said with an unnaturally gentle smile. + +He took the pistol in his hand and began asking about the working of +the trigger, as he had not before held a pistol in his hand--a fact +that he did not wish to confess. + +"Oh yes, like that, I know, I only forgot," said he. + +"No apologies, none whatever," said Dolokhov to Denisov (who on +his side had been attempting a reconciliation), and he also went up to +the appointed place. + +The spot chosen for the duel was some eighty paces from the road, +where the sleighs had been left, in a small clearing in the pine +forest covered with melting snow, the frost having begun to break up +during the last few days. The antagonists stood forty paces apart at +the farther edge of the clearing. The seconds, measuring the paces, +left tracks in the deep wet snow between the place where they had been +standing and Nesvitski's and Dolokhov's sabers, which were stuck +into the ground ten paces apart to mark the barrier. It was thawing and +misty; at forty paces' distance nothing could be seen. For three +minutes all had been ready, but they still delayed and all were +silent. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +"Well begin!" said Dolokhov. + +"All right," said Pierre, still smiling in the same way. A feeling +of dread was in the air. It was evident that the affair so lightly +begun could no longer be averted but was taking its course +independently of men's will. + +Denisov first went to the barrier and announced: "As the adve'sawies +have wefused a weconciliation, please pwoceed. Take your pistols, +and at the word thwee begin to advance. + +"O-ne! T-wo! Thwee!" he shouted angrily and stepped aside. + +The combatants advanced along the trodden tracks, nearer and +nearer to one another, beginning to see one another through the +mist. They had the right to fire when they liked as they approached +the barrier. Dolokhov walked slowly without raising his pistol, +looking intently with his bright, sparkling blue eyes into his +antagonist's face. His mouth wore its usual semblance of a smile. + +"So I can fire when I like!" said Pierre, and at the word "three," +he went quickly forward, missing the trodden path and stepping into +the deep snow. He held the pistol in his right hand at arm's length, +apparently afraid of shooting himself with it. His left hand he held +carefully back, because he wished to support his right hand with it +and knew he must not do so. Having advanced six paces and strayed +off the track into the snow, Pierre looked down at his feet, then +quickly glanced at Dolokhov and, bending his finger as he had been +shown, fired. Not at all expecting so loud a report, Pierre +shuddered at the sound and then, smiling at his own sensations, +stood still. The smoke, rendered denser by the mist, prevented him +from seeing anything for an instant, but there was no second report as +he had expected. He only heard Dolokhov's hurried steps, and his +figure came in view through the smoke. He was pressing one hand to his +left side, while the other clutched his drooping pistol. His face +was pale. Rostov ran toward him and said something. + +"No-o-o!" muttered Dolokhov through his teeth, "no, it's not +over." And after stumbling a few staggering steps right up to the +saber, he sank on the snow beside it. His left hand was bloody; he +wiped it on his coat and supported himself with it. His frowning +face was pallid and quivered. + +"Plea..." began Dolokhov, but could not at first pronounce the word. + +"Please," he uttered with an effort. + +Pierre, hardly restraining his sobs, began running toward Dolokhov +and was about to cross the space between the barriers, when Dolokhov +cried: + +"To your barrier!" and Pierre, grasping what was meant, stopped by +his saber. Only ten paces divided them. Dolokhov lowered his head to +the snow, greedily bit at it, again raised his head, adjusted himself, +drew in his legs and sat up, seeking a firm center of gravity. He +sucked and swallowed the cold snow, his lips quivered but +his eyes, still smiling, glittered with effort and exasperation as +he mustered his remaining strength. He raised his pistol and aimed. + +"Sideways! Cover yourself with your pistol!" ejaculated Nesvitski. + +"Cover yourself!" even Denisov cried to his adversary. + +Pierre, with a gentle smile of pity and remorse, his arms and legs +helplessly spread out, stood with his broad chest directly facing +Dolokhov looked sorrowfully at him. Denisov, Rostov, and Nesvitski +closed their eyes. At the same instant they heard a report and +Dolokhov's angry cry. + +"Missed!" shouted Dolokhov, and he lay helplessly, face downwards on +the snow. + +Pierre clutched his temples, and turning round went into the forest, +trampling through the deep snow, and muttering incoherent words: + +"Folly... folly! Death... lies..." he repeated, puckering his face. + +Nesvitski stopped him and took him home. + +Rostov and Denisov drove away with the wounded Dolokhov. + +The latter lay silent in the sleigh with closed eyes and did not +answer a word to the questions addressed to him. But on entering +Moscow he suddenly came to and, lifting his head with an effort, +took Rostov, who was sitting beside him, by the hand. Rostov was +struck by the totally altered and unexpectedly rapturous and tender +expression on Dolokhov's face. + +"Well? How do you feel?" he asked. + +"Bad! But it's not that, my friend-" said Dolokhov with a gasping +voice. "Where are we? In Moscow, I know. I don't matter, but I have +killed her, killed... She won't get over it! She won't survive...." + +"Who?" asked Rostov. + +"My mother! My mother, my angel, my adored angel mother," and +Dolokhov pressed Rostov's hand and burst into tears. + +When he had become a little quieter, he explained to Rostov that +he was living with his mother, who, if she saw him dying, would not +survive it. He implored Rostov to go on and prepare her. + +Rostov went on ahead to do what was asked, and to his great surprise +learned that Dolokhov the brawler, Dolokhov the bully, lived in Moscow +with an old mother and a hunchback sister, and was the most +affectionate of sons and brothers. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Pierre had of late rarely seen his wife alone. Both in Petersburg +and in Moscow their house was always full of visitors. The night after +the duel he did not go to his bedroom but, as he often did, remained +in his father's room, that huge room in which Count Bezukhov had died. + +He lay down on the sofa meaning to fall asleep and forget all that +had happened to him, but could not do so. Such a storm of feelings, +thoughts, and memories suddenly arose within him that he could not +fall asleep, nor even remain in one place, but had to jump up and pace +the room with rapid steps. Now he seemed to see her in the early +days of their marriage, with bare shoulders and a languid, +passionate look on her face, and then immediately he saw beside her +Dolokhov's handsome, insolent, hard, and mocking face as he had seen +it at the banquet, and then that same face pale, quivering, and +suffering, as it had been when he reeled and sank on the snow. + +"What has happened?" he asked himself. "I have killed her lover, +yes, killed my wife's lover. Yes, that was it! And why? How did I come +to do it?"--"Because you married her," answered an inner voice. + +"But in what was I to blame?" he asked. "In marrying her without +loving her; in deceiving yourself and her." And he vividly recalled +that moment after supper at Prince Vasili's, when he spoke those words +he had found so difficult to utter: "I love you." "It all comes from +that! Even then I felt it," he thought. "I felt then that it was not +so, that I had no right to do it. And so it turns out." + +He remembered his honeymoon and blushed at the recollection. +Particularly vivid, humiliating, and shameful was the recollection +of how one day soon after his marriage he came out of the bedroom into +his study a little before noon in his silk dressing gown and found his +head steward there, who, bowing respectfully, looked into his face and +at his dressing gown and smiled slightly, as if expressing +respectful understanding of his employer's happiness. + +"But how often I have felt proud of her, proud of her majestic +beauty and social tact," thought he; "been proud of my house, in +which she received all Petersburg, proud of her unapproachability and +beauty. So this is what I was proud of! I then thought that I did +not understand her. How often when considering her character I have +told myself that I was to blame for not understanding her, for not +understanding that constant composure and complacency and lack of +all interests or desires, and the whole secret lies in the terrible +truth that she is a depraved woman. Now I have spoken that terrible +word to myself all has become clear. + +"Anatole used to come to borrow money from her and used to kiss her +naked shoulders. She did not give him the money, but let herself be +kissed. Her father in jest tried to rouse her jealousy, and she replied +with a calm smile that she was not so stupid as to be jealous: 'Let him +do what he pleases,' she used to say of me. One day I asked her if she +felt any symptoms of pregnancy. She laughed contemptuously and said she +was not a fool to want to have children, and that she was not going to +have any children by me." + +Then he recalled the coarseness and bluntness of her thoughts and +the vulgarity of the expressions that were natural to her, though +she had been brought up in the most aristocratic circles. + +"I'm not such a fool.... Just you try it on.... Allez-vous +promener,"* she used to say. Often seeing the success she had with +young and old men and women Pierre could not understand why he did not +love her. + + +*"You clear out of this." + + +"Yes, I never loved her," said he to himself; "I knew she was a +depraved woman," he repeated, "but dared not admit it to myself. And +now there's Dolokhov sitting in the snow with a forced smile and +perhaps dying, while meeting my remorse with some forced bravado!" + +Pierre was one of those people who, in spite of an appearance of +what is called weak character, do not seek a confidant in their +troubles. He digested his sufferings alone. + +"It is all, all her fault," he said to himself; "but what of that? +Why did I bind myself to her? Why did I say 'Je vous aime'* to her, +which was a lie, and worse than a lie? I am guilty and must +endure... what? A slur on my name? A misfortune for life? Oh, that's +nonsense," he thought. "The slur on my name and honor--that's all +apart from myself. + + +*I love you. + + +"Louis XVI was executed because they said he was dishonorable and a +criminal," came into Pierre's head, "and from their point of view they +were right, as were those too who canonized him and died a martyr's +death for his sake. Then Robespierre was beheaded for being a despot. +Who is right and who is wrong? No one! But if you are alive--live: +tomorrow you'll die as I might have died an hour ago. And is it worth +tormenting oneself, when one has only a moment of life in comparison +with eternity?" + +But at the moment when he imagined himself calmed by such +reflections, she suddenly came into his mind as she was at the moments +when he had most strongly expressed his insincere love for her, and he +felt the blood rush to his heart and had again to get up and move +about and break and tear whatever came to his hand. "Why did I tell +her that 'Je vous aime'?" he kept repeating to himself. And when he +had said it for the tenth time, Molibre's words: "Mais que diable +alloit-il faire dans cette galere?" occurred to him, and he began to +laugh at himself. + +In the night he called his valet and told him to pack up to go to +Petersburg. He could not imagine how he could speak to her now. He +resolved to go away next day and leave a letter informing her of his +intention to part from her forever. + +Next morning when the valet came into the room with his coffee, +Pierre was lying asleep on the ottoman with an open book in his hand. + +He woke up and looked round for a while with a startled +expression, unable to realize where he was. + +"The countess told me to inquire whether your excellency was at +home," said the valet. + +But before Pierre could decide what answer he would send, the +countess herself in a white satin dressing gown embroidered with +silver and with simply dressed hair (two immense plaits twice round +her lovely head like a coronet) entered the room, calm and majestic, +except that there was a wrathful wrinkle on her rather prominent +marble brow. With her imperturbable calm she did not begin to speak in +front of the valet. She knew of the duel and had come to speak about +it. She waited till the valet had set down the coffee things and +left the room. Pierre looked at her timidly over his spectacles, and +like a hare surrounded by hounds who lays back her ears and +continues to crouch motionless before her enemies, he tried to +continue reading. But feeling this to be senseless and impossible, +he again glanced timidly at her. She did not sit down but looked at +him with a contemptuous smile, waiting for the valet to go. + +"Well, what's this now? What have you been up to now, I should +like to know?" she asked sternly. + +"I? What have I...?" stammered Pierre. + +"So it seems you're a hero, eh? Come now, what was this duel +about? What is it meant to prove? What? I ask you." + +Pierre turned over heavily on the ottoman and opened his mouth, +but could not reply. + +"If you won't answer, I'll tell you..." Helene went on. "You believe +everything you're told. You were told..." Helene laughed, "that +Dolokhov was my lover," she said in French with her coarse plainness +of speech, uttering the word amant as casually as any other word, "and +you believed it! Well, what have you proved? What does this duel +prove? That you're a fool, que vous etes un sot, but everybody knew +that. What will be the result? That I shall be the laughingstock of +all Moscow, that everyone will say that you, drunk and not knowing +what you were about, challenged a man you are jealous of without +cause." Helene raised her voice and became more and more excited, "A +man who's a better man than you in every way..." + +"Hm... Hm...!" growled Pierre, frowning without looking at her, +and not moving a muscle. + +"And how could you believe he was my lover? Why? Because I like +his company? If you were cleverer and more agreeable, I should +prefer yours." + +"Don't speak to me... I beg you," muttered Pierre hoarsely. + +"Why shouldn't I speak? I can speak as I like, and I tell you +plainly that there are not many wives with husbands such as you who +would not have taken lovers (des amants), but I have not done so," +said she. + +Pierre wished to say something, looked at her with eyes whose +strange expression she did not understand, and lay down again. He +was suffering physically at that moment, there was a weight on his +chest and he could not breathe. He knew that he must do something to +put an end to this suffering, but what he wanted to do was too +terrible. + +"We had better separate," he muttered in a broken voice. + +"Separate? Very well, but only if you give me a fortune," said +Helene. "Separate! That's a thing to frighten me with!" + +Pierre leaped up from the sofa and rushed staggering toward her. + +"I'll kill you!" he shouted, and seizing the marble top of a table +with a strength he had never before felt, he made a step toward her +brandishing the slab. + +Helene's face became terrible, she shrieked and sprang aside. His +father's nature showed itself in Pierre. He felt the fascination and +delight of frenzy. He flung down the slab, broke it, and swooping down +on her with outstretched hands shouted, "Get out!" in such a +terrible voice that the whole house heard it with horror. God knows +what he would have done at that moment had Helene not fled from the +room. + + +A week later Pierre gave his wife full power to control all his +estates in Great Russia, which formed the larger part of his property, +and left for Petersburg alone. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Two months had elapsed since the news of the battle of Austerlitz +and the loss of Prince Andrew had reached Bald Hills, and in spite +of the letters sent through the embassy and all the searches made, his +body had not been found nor was he on the list of prisoners. What +was worst of all for his relations was the fact that there was still a +possibility of his having been picked up on the battlefield by the +people of the place and that he might now be lying, recovering or +dying, alone among strangers and unable to send news of himself. The +gazettes from which the old prince first heard of the defeat at +Austerlitz stated, as usual very briefly and vaguely, that after +brilliant engagements the Russians had had to retreat and had made +their withdrawal in perfect order. The old prince understood from this +official report that our army had been defeated. A week after the +gazette report of the battle of Austerlitz came a letter from +Kutuzov informing the prince of the fate that had befallen his son. + +"Your son," wrote Kutuzov, "fell before my eyes, a standard in his +hand and at the head of a regiment--he fell as a hero, worthy of his +father and his fatherland. To the great regret of myself and of the +whole army it is still uncertain whether he is alive or not. I comfort +myself and you with the hope that your son is alive, for otherwise +he would have been mentioned among the officers found on the field +of battle, a list of whom has been sent me under flag of truce." + +After receiving this news late in the evening, when he was alone +in his study, the old prince went for his walk as usual next +morning, but he was silent with his steward, the gardener, and the +architect, and though he looked very grim he said nothing to anyone. + +When Princess Mary went to him at the usual hour he was working at +his lathe and, as usual, did not look round at her. + +"Ah, Princess Mary!" he said suddenly in an unnatural voice, +throwing down his chisel. (The wheel continued to revolve by its own +impetus, and Princess Mary long remembered the dying creak of that +wheel, which merged in her memory with what followed.) + +She approached him, saw his face, and something gave way within her. +Her eyes grew dim. By the expression of her father's face, not sad, +not crushed, but angry and working unnaturally, she saw that hanging +over her and about to crush her was some terrible misfortune, the +worst in life, one she had not yet experienced, irreparable and +incomprehensible--the death of one she loved. + +"Father! Andrew!"--said the ungraceful, awkward princess with such +an indescribable charm of sorrow and self-forgetfulness that her +father could not bear her look but turned away with a sob. + +"Bad news! He's not among the prisoners nor among the killed! +Kutuzov writes..." and he screamed as piercingly as if he wished to +drive the princess away by that scream... "Killed!" + +The princess did not fall down or faint. She was already pale, but +on hearing these words her face changed and something brightened in +her beautiful, radiant eyes. It was as if joy--a supreme joy apart +from the joys and sorrows of this world--overflowed the great grief +within her. She forgot all fear of her father, went up to him, took +his hand, and drawing him down put her arm round his thin, scraggy +neck. + +"Father," she said, "do not turn away from me, let us weep together." + +"Scoundrels! Blackguards!" shrieked the old man, turning his face +away from her. "Destroying the army, destroying the men! And why? +Go, go and tell Lise." + +The princess sank helplessly into an armchair beside her father +and wept. She saw her brother now as he had been at the moment when he +took leave of her and of Lise, his look tender yet proud. She saw +him tender and amused as he was when he put on the little icon. "Did +he believe? Had he repented of his unbelief? Was he now there? There +in the realms of eternal peace and blessedness?" she thought. + +"Father, tell me how it happened," she asked through her tears. + +"Go! Go! Killed in battle, where the best of Russian men and +Russia's glory were led to destruction. Go, Princess Mary. Go and tell +Lise. I will follow." + +When Princess Mary returned from her father, the little princess sat +working and looked up with that curious expression of inner, happy +calm peculiar to pregnant women. It was evident that her eyes did +not see Princess Mary but were looking within... into herself... at +something joyful and mysterious taking place within her. + +"Mary," she said, moving away from the embroidery frame and lying +back, "give me your hand." She took her sister-in-law's hand and +held it below her waist. + +Her eyes were smiling expectantly, her downy lip rose and remained +lifted in childlike happiness. + +Princess Mary knelt down before her and hid her face in the folds of +her sister-in-law's dress. + +"There, there! Do you feel it? I feel so strange. And do you know, +Mary, I am going to love him very much," said Lise, looking with +bright and happy eyes at her sister-in-law. + +Princess Mary could not lift her head, she was weeping. + +"What is the matter, Mary?" + +"Nothing... only I feel sad... sad about Andrew," she said, wiping +away her tears on her sister-in-law's knee. + +Several times in the course of the morning Princess Mary began +trying to prepare her sister-in-law, and every time began to cry. +Unobservant as was the little princess, these tears, the cause of +which she did not understand, agitated her. She said nothing but +looked about uneasily as if in search of something. Before dinner +the old prince, of whom she was always afraid, came into her room with +a peculiarly restless and malign expression and went out again without +saying a word. She looked at Princess Mary, then sat thinking for a +while with that expression of attention to something within her that +is only seen in pregnant women, and suddenly began to cry. + +"Has anything come from Andrew?" she asked. + +"No, you know it's too soon for news. But my father is anxious and I +feel afraid." + +"So there's nothing?" + +"Nothing," answered Princess Mary, looking firmly with her radiant +eyes at her sister-in-law. + +She had determined not to tell her and persuaded her father to +hide the terrible news from her till after her confinement, which +was expected within a few days. Princess Mary and the old prince +each bore and hid their grief in their own way. The old prince would +not cherish any hope: he made up his mind that Prince Andrew had +been killed, and though he sent an official to Austria to seek for +traces of his son, he ordered a monument from Moscow which he intended +to erect in his own garden to his memory, and he told everybody that +his son had been killed. He tried not to change his former way of +life, but his strength failed him. He walked less, ate less, slept +less, and became weaker every day. Princess Mary hoped. She prayed for +her brother as living and was always awaiting news of his return. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"Dearest," said the little princess after breakfast on the morning +of the nineteenth March, and her downy little lip rose from old habit, +but as sorrow was manifest in every smile, the sound of every word, +and even every footstep in that house since the terrible news had +come, so now the smile of the little princess--influenced by the +general mood though without knowing its cause--was such as to remind +one still more of the general sorrow. + +"Dearest, I'm afraid this morning's fruschtique*--as Foka the cook +calls it--has disagreed with me." + + +*Fruhstuck: breakfast. + + +"What is the matter with you, my darling? You look pale. Oh, you are +very pale!" said Princess Mary in alarm, running with her soft, +ponderous steps up to her sister-in-law. + +"Your excellency, should not Mary Bogdanovna be sent for?" said +one of the maids who was present. (Mary Bogdanovna was a midwife +from the neighboring town, who had been at Bald Hills for the last +fortnight.) + +"Oh yes," assented Princess Mary, "perhaps that's it. I'll go. +Courage, my angel." She kissed Lise and was about to leave the room. + +"Oh, no, no!" And besides the pallor and the physical suffering on +the little princess' face, an expression of childish fear of +inevitable pain showed itself. + +"No, it's only indigestion?... Say it's only indigestion, say so, +Mary! Say..." And the little princess began to cry capriciously like a +suffering child and to wring her little hands even with some +affectation. Princess Mary ran out of the room to fetch Mary +Bogdanovna. + +"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Oh!" she heard as she left the room. + +The midwife was already on her way to meet her, rubbing her small, +plump white hands with an air of calm importance. + +"Mary Bogdanovna, I think it's beginning!" said Princess Mary +looking at the midwife with wide-open eyes of alarm. + +"Well, the Lord be thanked, Princess," said Mary Bogdanovna, not +hastening her steps. "You young ladies should not know anything +about it." + +"But how is it the doctor from Moscow is not here yet?" said the +princess. (In accordance with Lise's and Prince Andrew's wishes they +had sent in good time to Moscow for a doctor and were expecting him at +any moment.) + +"No matter, Princess, don't be alarmed," said Mary Bogdanovna. +"We'll manage very well without a doctor." + +Five minutes later Princess Mary from her room heard something heavy +being carried by. She looked out. The men servants were carrying the +large leather sofa from Prince Andrew's study into the bedroom. On +their faces was a quiet and solemn look. + +Princess Mary sat alone in her room listening to the sounds in the +house, now and then opening her door when someone passed and +watching what was going on in the passage. Some women passing with +quiet steps in and out of the bedroom glanced at the princess and +turned away. She did not venture to ask any questions, and shut the +door again, now sitting down in her easy chair, now taking her +prayer book, now kneeling before the icon stand. To her surprise and +distress she found that her prayers did not calm her excitement. +Suddenly her door opened softly and her old nurse, Praskovya Savishna, +who hardly ever came to that room as the old prince had forbidden +it, appeared on the threshold with a shawl round her head. + +"I've come to sit with you a bit, Masha," said the nurse, "and +here I've brought the prince's wedding candles to light before his +saint, my angel," she said with a sigh. + +"Oh, nurse, I'm so glad!" + +"God is merciful, birdie." + +The nurse lit the gilt candles before the icons and sat down by +the door with her knitting. Princess Mary took a book and began +reading. Only when footsteps or voices were heard did they look at one +another, the princess anxious and inquiring, the nurse encouraging. +Everyone in the house was dominated by the same feeling that +Princess Mary experienced as she sat in her room. But owing to the +superstition that the fewer the people who know of it the less a woman +in travail suffers, everyone tried to pretend not to know; no one +spoke of it, but apart from the ordinary staid and respectful good +manners habitual in the prince's household, a common anxiety, a +softening of the heart, and a consciousness that something great and +mysterious was being accomplished at that moment made itself felt. + +There was no laughter in the maids' large hall. In the men servants' +hall all sat waiting, silently and alert. In the outlying serfs' +quarters torches and candles were burning and no one slept. The old +prince, stepping on his heels, paced up and down his study and sent +Tikhon to ask Mary Bogdanovna what news.--"Say only that 'the prince +told me to ask,' and come and tell me her answer." + +"Inform the prince that labor has begun," said Mary Bogdanovna, +giving the messenger a significant look. + +Tikhon went and told the prince. + +"Very good!" said the prince closing the door behind him, and Tikhon +did not hear the slightest sound from the study after that. + +After a while he re-entered it as if to snuff the candles, and, +seeing the prince was lying on the sofa, looked at him, noticed his +perturbed face, shook his head, and going up to him silently kissed +him on the shoulder and left the room without snuffing the candles +or saying why he had entered. The most solemn mystery in the world +continued its course. Evening passed, night came, and the feeling of +suspense and softening of heart in the presence of the unfathomable +did not lessen but increased. No one slept. + +It was one of those March nights when winter seems to wish to resume +its sway and scatters its last snows and storms with desperate fury. A +relay of horses had been sent up the highroad to meet the German +doctor from Moscow who was expected every moment, and men on horseback +with lanterns were sent to the crossroads to guide him over the +country road with its hollows and snow-covered pools of water. + +Princess Mary had long since put aside her book: she sat silent, her +luminous eyes fixed on her nurse's wrinkled face (every line of +which she knew so well), on the lock of gray hair that escaped from +under the kerchief, and the loose skin that hung under her chin. + +Nurse Savishna, knitting in hand, was telling in low tones, scarcely +hearing or understanding her own words, what she had told hundreds +of times before: how the late princess had given birth to Princess +Mary in Kishenev with only a Moldavian peasant woman to help instead +of a midwife. + +"God is merciful, doctors are never needed," she said. + +Suddenly a gust of wind beat violently against the casement of the +window, from which the double frame had been removed (by order of +the prince, one window frame was removed in each room as soon as the +larks returned), and, forcing open a loosely closed latch, set the +damask curtain flapping and blew out the candle with its chill, +snowy draft. Princess Mary shuddered; her nurse, putting down the +stocking she was knitting, went to the window and leaning out tried to +catch the open casement. The cold wind flapped the ends of her +kerchief and her loose locks of gray hair. + +"Princess, my dear, there's someone driving up the avenue!" she +said, holding the casement and not closing it. "With lanterns. Most +likely the doctor." + +"Oh, my God! thank God!" said Princess Mary. "I must go and meet +him, he does not know Russian." + +Princess Mary threw a shawl over her head and ran to meet the +newcomer. As she was crossing the anteroom she saw through the +window a carriage with lanterns, standing at the entrance. She went +out on the stairs. On a banister post stood a tallow candle which +guttered in the draft. On the landing below, Philip, the footman, +stood looking scared and holding another candle. Still lower, beyond +the turn of the staircase, one could hear the footstep of someone in +thick felt boots, and a voice that seemed familiar to Princess Mary +was saying something. + +"Thank God!" said the voice. "And Father?" + +"Gone to bed," replied the voice of Demyan the house steward, who +was downstairs. + +Then the voice said something more, Demyan replied, and the steps in +the felt boots approached the unseen bend of the staircase more +rapidly. + +"It's Andrew!" thought Princess Mary. "No it can't be, that would be +too extraordinary," and at the very moment she thought this, the +face and figure of Prince Andrew, in a fur cloak the deep collar of +which covered with snow, appeared on the landing where the footman +stood with the candle. Yes, it was he, pale, thin, with a changed +and strangely softened but agitated expression on his face. He came up +the stairs and embraced his sister. + +"You did not get my letter?" he asked, and not waiting for a +reply--which he would not have received, for the princess was unable +to speak--he turned back, rapidly mounted the stairs again with the +doctor who had entered the hall after him (they had met at the last +post station), and again embraced his sister. + +"What a strange fate, Masha darling!" And having taken off his cloak +and felt boots, he went to the little princess' apartment. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The little princess lay supported by pillows, with a white cap on +her head (the pains had just left her). Strands of her black hair +lay round her inflamed and perspiring cheeks, her charming rosy +mouth with its downy lip was open and she was smiling joyfully. Prince +Andrew entered and paused facing her at the foot of the sofa on +which she was lying. Her glittering eyes, filled with childlike fear +and excitement, rested on him without changing their expression. "I +love you all and have done no harm to anyone; why must I suffer so? +Help me!" her look seemed to say. She saw her husband, but did not +realize the significance of his appearance before her now. Prince +Andrew went round the sofa and kissed her forehead. + +"My darling!" he said--a word he had never used to her before. +"God is merciful...." + +She looked at him inquiringly and with childlike reproach. + +"I expected help from you and I get none, none from you either!" +said her eyes. She was not surprised at his having come; she did not +realize that he had come. His coming had nothing to do with her +sufferings or with their relief. The pangs began again and Mary +Bogdanovna advised Prince Andrew to leave the room. + +The doctor entered. Prince Andrew went out and, meeting Princess +Mary, again joined her. They began talking in whispers, but their talk +broke off at every moment. They waited and listened. + +"Go, dear," said Princess Mary. + +Prince Andrew went again to his wife and sat waiting in the room +next to hers. A woman came from the bedroom with a frightened face and +became confused when she saw Prince Andrew. He covered his face with +his hands and remained so for some minutes. Piteous, helpless, +animal moans came through the door. Prince Andrew got up, went to +the door, and tried to open it. Someone was holding it shut. + +"You can't come in! You can't!" said a terrified voice from within. + +He began pacing the room. The screaming ceased, and a few more +seconds went by. Then suddenly a terrible shriek--it could not be +hers, she could not scream like that--came from the bedroom. Prince +Andrew ran to the door; the scream ceased and he heard the wail of +an infant. + +"What have they taken a baby in there for?" thought Prince Andrew in +the first second. "A baby? What baby...? Why is there a baby there? Or +is the baby born?" + +Then suddenly he realized the joyful significance of that wail; +tears choked him, and leaning his elbows on the window sill be began +to cry, sobbing like a child. The door opened. The doctor with his +shirt sleeves tucked up, without a coat, pale and with a trembling +jaw, came out of the room. Prince Andrew turned to him, but the doctor +gave him a bewildered look and passed by without a word. A woman +rushed out and seeing Prince Andrew stopped, hesitating on the +threshold. He went into his wife's room. She was lying dead, in the +same position he had seen her in five minutes before and, despite +the fixed eyes and the pallor of the cheeks, the same expression was +on her charming childlike face with its upper lip covered with tiny +black hair. + +"I love you all, and have done no harm to anyone; and what have +you done to me?"--said her charming, pathetic, dead face. + +In a corner of the room something red and tiny gave a grunt and +squealed in Mary Bogdanovna's trembling white hands. + + +Two hours later Prince Andrew, stepping softly, went into his +father's room. The old man already knew everything. He was standing +close to the door and as soon as it opened his rough old arms closed +like a vise round his son's neck, and without a word he began to sob +like a child. + + +Three days later the little princess was buried, and Prince Andrew +went up the steps to where the coffin stood, to give her the +farewell kiss. And there in the coffin was the same face, though +with closed eyes. "Ah, what have you done to me?" it still seemed to +say, and Prince Andrew felt that something gave way in his soul and +that he was guilty of a sin he could neither remedy nor forget. He +could not weep. The old man too came up and kissed the waxen little +hands that lay quietly crossed one on the other on her breast, and +to him, too, her face seemed to say: "Ah, what have you done to me, +and why?" And at the sight the old man turned angrily away. + + +Another five days passed, and then the young Prince Nicholas +Andreevich was baptized. The wet nurse supported the coverlet with her +chin, while the priest with a goose feather anointed the boy's little +red and wrinkled soles and palms. + +His grandfather, who was his godfather, trembling and afraid of +dropping him, carried the infant round the battered tin font and +handed him over to the godmother, Princess Mary. Prince Andrew sat +in another room, faint with fear lest the baby should be drowned in +the font, and awaited the termination of the ceremony. He looked up +joyfully at the baby when the nurse brought it to him and nodded +approval when she told him that the wax with the baby's hair had not +sunk in the font but had floated. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Rostov's share in Dolokhov's duel with Bezukhov was hushed up by the +efforts of the old count, and instead of being degraded to the ranks +as he expected he was appointed an adjutant to the governor general of +Moscow. As a result he could not go to the country with the rest of +the family, but was kept all summer in Moscow by his new duties. +Dolokhov recovered, and Rostov became very friendly with him during +his convalescence. Dolokhov lay ill at his mother's who loved him +passionately and tenderly, and old Mary Ivanovna, who had grown fond +of Rostov for his friendship to her Fedya, often talked to him about +her son. + +"Yes, Count," she would say, "he is too noble and pure-souled for +our present, depraved world. No one now loves virtue; it seems like +a reproach to everyone. Now tell me, Count, was it right, was it +honorable, of Bezukhov? And Fedya, with his noble spirit, loved him +and even now never says a word against him. Those pranks in Petersburg +when they played some tricks on a policeman, didn't they do it +together? And there! Bezukhov got off scotfree, while Fedya had to +bear the whole burden on his shoulders. Fancy what he had to go +through! It's true he has been reinstated, but how could they fail +to do that? I think there were not many such gallant sons of the +fatherland out there as he. And now--this duel! Have these people no +feeling, or honor? Knowing him to be an only son, to challenge him and +shoot so straight! It's well God had mercy on us. And what was it for? +Who doesn't have intrigues nowadays? Why, if he was so jealous, as I +see things he should have shown it sooner, but he lets it go on for +months. And then to call him out, reckoning on Fedya not fighting +because he owed him money! What baseness! What meanness! I know you +understand Fedya, my dear count; that, believe me, is why I am so fond +of you. Few people do understand him. He is such a lofty, heavenly +soul!" + +Dolokhov himself during his convalescence spoke to Rostov in a way +no one would have expected of him. + +"I know people consider me a bad man!" he said. "Let them! I don't +care a straw about anyone but those I love; but those I love, I love +so that I would give my life for them, and the others I'd throttle +if they stood in my way. I have an adored, a priceless mother, and two +or three friends--you among them--and as for the rest I only care +about them in so far as they are harmful or useful. And most of them +are harmful, especially the women. Yes, dear boy," he continued, "I +have met loving, noble, high-minded men, but I have not yet met any +women--countesses or cooks--who were not venal. I have not yet met +that divine purity and devotion I look for in women. If I found such a +one I'd give my life for her! But those!..." and he made a gesture of +contempt. "And believe me, if I still value my life it is only because +I still hope to meet such a divine creature, who will regenerate, +purify, and elevate me. But you don't understand it." + +"Oh, yes, I quite understand," answered Rostov, who was under his +new friend's influence. + +In the autumn the Rostovs returned to Moscow. Early in the winter +Denisov also came back and stayed with them. The first half of the +winter of 1806, which Nicholas Rostov spent in Moscow, was one of +the happiest, merriest times for him and the whole family. Nicholas +brought many young men to his parents' house. Vera was a handsome girl +of twenty; Sonya a girl of sixteen with all the charm of an opening +flower; Natasha, half grown up and half child, was now childishly +amusing, now girlishly enchanting. + +At that time in the Rostovs' house there prevailed an amorous atmosphere +characteristic of homes where there are very young and very charming +girls. Every young man who came to the house--seeing those +impressionable, smiling young faces (smiling probably at their own +happiness), feeling the eager bustle around him, and hearing the fitful +bursts of song and music and the inconsequent but friendly prattle of +young girls ready for anything and full of hope--experienced the same +feeling; sharing with the young folk of the Rostovs' household a +readiness to fall in love and an expectation of happiness. + +Among the young men introduced by Rostov one of the first was +Dolokhov, whom everyone in the house liked except Natasha. She +almost quarreled with her brother about him. She insisted that he +was a bad man, and that in the duel with Bezukhov, Pierre was right +and Dolokhov wrong, and further that he was disagreeable and +unnatural. + +"There's nothing for me to understand," she cried out with resolute +self-will, "he is wicked and heartless. There now, I like your Denisov +though he is a rake and all that, still I like him; so you see I do +understand. I don't know how to put it... with this one everything +is calculated, and I don't like that. But Denisov..." + +"Oh, Denisov is quite different," replied Nicholas, implying that +even Denisov was nothing compared to Dolokhov--"you must understand +what a soul there is in Dolokhov, you should see him with his +mother. What a heart!" + +"Well, I don't know about that, but I am uncomfortable with him. And +do you know he has fallen in love with Sonya?" + +"What nonsense..." + +"I'm certain of it; you'll see." + +Natasha's prediction proved true. Dolokhov, who did not usually care +for the society of ladies, began to come often to the house, and the +question for whose sake he came (though no one spoke of it) was soon +settled. He came because of Sonya. And Sonya, though she would never +have dared to say so, knew it and blushed scarlet every time +Dolokhov appeared. + +Dolokhov often dined at the Rostovs', never missed a performance +at which they were present, and went to Iogel's balls for young people +which the Rostovs always attended. He was pointedly attentive to Sonya +and looked at her in such a way that not only could she not bear his +glances without coloring, but even the old countess and Natasha +blushed when they saw his looks. + +It was evident that this strange, strong man was under the +irresistible influence of the dark, graceful girl who loved another. + +Rostov noticed something new in Dolokhov's relations with Sonya, but +he did not explain to himself what these new relations were. +"They're always in love with someone," he thought of Sonya and +Natasha. But he was not as much at ease with Sonya and Dolokhov as +before and was less frequently at home. + +In the autumn of 1806 everybody had again begun talking of the war +with Napoleon with even greater warmth than the year before. Orders +were given to raise recruits, ten men in every thousand for the +regular army, and besides this, nine men in every thousand for the +militia. Everywhere Bonaparte was anathematized and in Moscow +nothing but the coming war was talked of. For the Rostov family the +whole interest of these preparations for war lay in the fact that +Nicholas would not hear of remaining in Moscow, and only awaited the +termination of Denisov's furlough after Christmas to return with him +to their regiment. His approaching departure did not prevent his +amusing himself, but rather gave zest to his pleasures. He spent the +greater part of his time away from home, at dinners, parties, and +balls. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +On the third day after Christmas Nicholas dined at home, a thing +he had rarely done of late. It was a grand farewell dinner, as he +and Denisov were leaving to join their regiment after Epiphany. +About twenty people were present, including Dolokhov and Denisov. + +Never had love been so much in the air, and never had the amorous +atmosphere made itself so strongly felt in the Rostovs' house as at +this holiday time. "Seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved! +That is the only reality in the world, all else is folly. It is the +one thing we are interested in here," said the spirit of the place. + +Nicholas, having as usual exhausted two pairs of horses, without +visiting all the places he meant to go to and where he had been +invited, returned home just before dinner. As soon as he entered he +noticed and felt the tension of the amorous air in the house, and also +noticed a curious embarrassment among some of those present. Sonya, +Dolokhov, and the old countess were especially disturbed, and to a +lesser degree Natasha. Nicholas understood that something must have +happened between Sonya and Dolokhov before dinner, and with the kindly +sensitiveness natural to him was very gentle and wary with them both +at dinner. On that same evening there was to be one of the balls +that Iogel (the dancing master) gave for his pupils during the +holidays. + +"Nicholas, will you come to Iogel's? Please do!" said Natasha. "He +asked you, and Vasili Dmitrich* is also going." + + +*Denisov. + + +"Where would I not go at the countess' command!" said Denisov, who +at the Rostovs' had jocularly assumed the role of Natasha's knight. +"I'm even weady to dance the pas de chale." + +"If I have time," answered Nicholas. "But I promised the +Arkharovs; they have a party." + +"And you?" he asked Dolokhov, but as soon as he had asked the +question he noticed that it should not have been put. + +"Perhaps," coldly and angrily replied Dolokhov, glancing at Sonya, +and, scowling, he gave Nicholas just such a look as he had given +Pierre at the Club dinner. + +"There is something up," thought Nicholas, and he was further +confirmed in this conclusion by the fact that Dolokhov left +immediately after dinner. He called Natasha and asked her what was the +matter. + +"And I was looking for you," said Natasha running out to him. "I +told you, but you would not believe it," she said triumphantly. "He +has proposed to Sonya!" + +Little as Nicholas had occupied himself with Sonya of late, +something seemed to give way within him at this news. Dolokhov was a +suitable and in some respects a brilliant match for the dowerless, +orphan girl. From the point of view of the old countess and of society +it was out of the question for her to refuse him. And therefore +Nicholas' first feeling on hearing the news was one of anger with +Sonya.... He tried to say, "That's capital; of course she'll forget +her childish promises and accept the offer," but before he had time to +say it Natasha began again. + +"And fancy! she refused him quite definitely!" adding, after a +pause, "she told him she loved another." + +"Yes, my Sonya could not have done otherwise!" thought Nicholas. + +"Much as Mamma pressed her, she refused, and I know she won't change +once she has said..." + +"And Mamma pressed her!" said Nicholas reproachfully. + +"Yes," said Natasha. "Do you know, Nicholas--don't be angry--but I +know you will not marry her. I know, heaven knows how, but I know +for certain that you won't marry her." + +"Now you don't know that at all!" said Nicholas. "But I must talk to +her. What a darling Sonya is!" he added with a smile. + +"Ah, she is indeed a darling! I'll send her to you." + +And Natasha kissed her brother and ran away. + +A minute later Sonya came in with a frightened, guilty, and scared +look. Nicholas went up to her and kissed her hand. This was the +first time since his return that they had talked alone and about their +love. + +"Sophie," he began, timidly at first and then more and more +boldly, "if you wish to refuse one who is not only a brilliant and +advantageous match but a splendid, noble fellow... he is my friend..." + +Sonya interrupted him. + +"I have already refused," she said hurriedly. + +"If you are refusing for my sake, I am afraid that I..." + +Sonya again interrupted. She gave him an imploring, frightened look. + +"Nicholas, don't tell me that!" she said. + +"No, but I must. It may be arrogant of me, but still it is best to +say it. If you refuse him on my account, I must tell you the whole +truth. I love you, and I think I love you more than anyone else...." + +"That is enough for me," said Sonya, blushing. + +"No, but I have been in love a thousand times and shall fall in love +again, though for no one have I such a feeling of friendship, +confidence, and love as I have for you. Then I am young. Mamma does +not wish it. In a word, I make no promise. And I beg you to consider +Dolokhov's offer," he said, articulating his friend's name with +difficulty. + +"Don't say that to me! I want nothing. I love you as a brother and +always shall, and I want nothing more." + +"You are an angel: I am not worthy of you, but I am afraid of +misleading you." + +And Nicholas again kissed her hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Iogel's were the most enjoyable balls in Moscow. So said the mothers +as they watched their young people executing their newly learned +steps, and so said the youths and maidens themselves as they danced +till they were ready to drop, and so said the grown-up young men and +women who came to these balls with an air of condescension and found +them most enjoyable. That year two marriages had come of these +balls. The two pretty young Princesses Gorchakov met suitors there and +were married and so further increased the fame of these dances. What +distinguished them from others was the absence of host or hostess +and the presence of the good-natured Iogel, flying about like a +feather and bowing according to the rules of his art, as he +collected the tickets from all his visitors. There was the fact that +only those came who wished to dance and amuse themselves as girls of +thirteen and fourteen do who are wearing long dresses for the first +time. With scarcely any exceptions they all were, or seemed to be, +pretty--so rapturous were their smiles and so sparkling their eyes. +Sometimes the best of the pupils, of whom Natasha, who was +exceptionally graceful, was first, even danced the pas de chale, but +at this last ball only the ecossaise, the anglaise, and the mazurka, +which was just coming into fashion, were danced. Iogel had taken a +ballroom in Bezukhov's house, and the ball, as everyone said, was a +great success. There were many pretty girls and the Rostov girls +were among the prettiest. They were both particularly happy and gay. +That evening, proud of Dolokhov's proposal, her refusal, and her +explanation with Nicholas, Sonya twirled about before she left home so +that the maid could hardly get her hair plaited, and she was +transparently radiant with impulsive joy. + +Natasha no less proud of her first long dress and of being at a real +ball was even happier. They were both dressed in white muslin with +pink ribbons. + +Natasha fell in love the very moment she entered the ballroom. She +was not in love with anyone in particular, but with everyone. Whatever +person she happened to look at she was in love with for that moment. + +"Oh, how delightful it is!" she kept saying, running up to Sonya. + +Nicholas and Denisov were walking up and down, looking with kindly +patronage at the dancers. + +"How sweet she is--she will be a weal beauty!" said Denisov. + +"Who?" + +"Countess Natasha," answered Denisov. + +"And how she dances! What gwace!" he said again after a pause. + +"Who are you talking about?" + +"About your sister," ejaculated Denisov testily. + +Rostov smiled. + +"My dear count, you were one of my best pupils--you must dance," +said little Iogel coming up to Nicholas. "Look how many charming young +ladies-" He turned with the same request to Denisov who was also a +former pupil of his. + +"No, my dear fellow, I'll be a wallflower," said Denisov. "Don't you +wecollect what bad use I made of your lessons?" + +"Oh no!" said Iogel, hastening to reassure him. "You were only +inattentive, but you had talent--oh yes, you had talent!" + + The band struck up the newly introduced mazurka. Nicholas could not +refuse Iogel and asked Sonya to dance. Denisov sat down by the old +ladies and, leaning on his saber and beating time with his foot, +told them something funny and kept them amused, while he watched the +young people dancing, Iogel with Natasha, his pride and his best +pupil, were the first couple. Noiselessly, skillfully stepping with +his little feet in low shoes, Iogel flew first across the hall with +Natasha, who, though shy, went on carefully executing her steps. +Denisov did not take his eyes off her and beat time with his saber +in a way that clearly indicated that if he was not dancing it was +because he would not and not because he could not. In the middle of +a figure he beckoned to Rostov who was passing: + +"This is not at all the thing," he said. "What sort of Polish +mazuwka is this? But she does dance splendidly." + +Knowing that Denisov had a reputation even in Poland for the +masterly way in which he danced the mazurka, Nicholas ran up to +Natasha: + +"Go and choose Denisov. He is a real dancer, a wonder!" he said. + +When it came to Natasha's turn to choose a partner, she rose and, +tripping rapidly across in her little shoes trimmed with bows, ran +timidly to the corner where Denisov sat. She saw that everybody was +looking at her and waiting. Nicholas saw that Denisov was refusing +though he smiled delightedly. He ran up to them. + +"Please, Vasili Dmitrich," Natasha was saying, "do come!" + +"Oh no, let me off, Countess," Denisov replied. + +"Now then, Vaska," said Nicholas. + +"They coax me as if I were Vaska the cat!" said Denisov jokingly. + +"I'll sing for you a whole evening," said Natasha. + +"Oh, the faiwy! She can do anything with me!" said Denisov, and he +unhooked his saber. He came out from behind the chairs, clasped his +partner's hand firmly, threw back his head, and advanced his foot, +waiting for the beat. Only on horse back and in the mazurka was +Denisov's short stature not noticeable and he looked the fine fellow +he felt himself to be. At the right beat of the music he looked +sideways at his partner with a merry and triumphant air, suddenly +stamped with one foot, bounded from the floor like a ball, and flew +round the room taking his partner with him. He glided silently on +one foot half across the room, and seeming not to notice the chairs +was dashing straight at them, when suddenly, clinking his spurs and +spreading out his legs, he stopped short on his heels, stood so a +second, stamped on the spot clanking his spurs, whirled rapidly round, +and, striking his left heel against his right, flew round again in a +circle. Natasha guessed what he meant to do, and abandoning herself to +him followed his lead hardly knowing how. First he spun her round, +holding her now with his left, now with his right hand, then falling +on one knee he twirled her round him, and again jumping up, dashed +so impetuously forward that it seemed as if he would rush through +the whole suite of rooms without drawing breath, and then he +suddenly stopped and performed some new and unexpected steps. When +at last, smartly whirling his partner round in front of her chair, +he drew up with a click of his spurs and bowed to her, Natasha did not +even make him a curtsy. She fixed her eyes on him in amazement, +smiling as if she did not recognize him. + +"What does this mean?" she brought out. + +Although Iogel did not acknowledge this to be the real mazurka, +everyone was delighted with Denisov's skill, he was asked again and +again as a partner, and the old men began smilingly to talk about +Poland and the good old days. Denisov, flushed after the mazurka and +mopping himself with his handkerchief, sat down by Natasha and did not +leave her for the rest of the evening. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +For two days after that Rostov did not see Dolokhov at his own or at +Dolokhov's home: on the third day he received a note from him: + + +As I do not intend to be at your house again for reasons you know +of, and am going to rejoin my regiment, I am giving a farewell +supper tonight to my friends--come to the English Hotel. + + +About ten o'clock Rostov went to the English Hotel straight from the +theater, where he had been with his family and Denisov. He was at once +shown to the best room, which Dolokhov had taken for that evening. +Some twenty men were gathered round a table at which Dolokhov sat +between two candles. On the table was a pile of gold and paper +money, and he was keeping the bank. Rostov had not seen him since +his proposal and Sonya's refusal and felt uncomfortable at the thought +of how they would meet. + +Dolokhov's clear, cold glance met Rostov as soon as he entered the +door, as though he had long expected him. + +"It's a long time since we met," he said. "Thanks for coming. I'll +just finish dealing, and then Ilyushka will come with his chorus." + +"I called once or twice at your house," said Rostov, reddening. + +Dolokhov made no reply. + +"You may punt," he said. + +Rostov recalled at that moment a strange conversation he had once +had with Dolokhov. "None but fools trust to luck in play," Dolokhov +had then said. + +"Or are you afraid to play with me?" Dolokhov now asked as if +guessing Rostov's thought. + +Beneath his smile Rostov saw in him the mood he had shown at the +Club dinner and at other times, when as if tired of everyday life he +had felt a need to escape from it by some strange, and usually +cruel, action. + +Rostov felt ill at ease. He tried, but failed, to find some joke +with which to reply to Dolokhov's words. But before he had thought +of anything, Dolokhov, looking straight in his face, said slowly and +deliberately so that everyone could hear: + +"Do you remember we had a talk about cards... 'He's a fool who +trusts to luck, one should make certain,' and I want to try." + +"To try his luck or the certainty?" Rostov asked himself. + +"Well, you'd better not play," Dolokhov added, and springing a new +pack of cards said: "Bank, gentlemen!" + +Moving the money forward he prepared to deal. Rostov sat down by his +side and at first did not play. Dolokhov kept glancing at him. + +"Why don't you play?" he asked. + +And strange to say Nicholas felt that he could not help taking up +a card, putting a small stake on it, and beginning to play. + +"I have no money with me," he said. + +"I'll trust you." + +Rostov staked five rubles on a card and lost, staked again, and +again lost. Dolokhov "killed," that is, beat, ten cards of Rostov's +running. + +"Gentlemen," said Dolokhov after he had dealt for some time. "Please +place your money on the cards or I may get muddled in the reckoning." + +One of the players said he hoped he might be trusted. + +"Yes, you might, but I am afraid of getting the accounts mixed. So I +ask you to put the money on your cards," replied Dolokhov. "Don't +stint yourself, we'll settle afterwards," he added, turning to Rostov. + +The game continued; a waiter kept handing round champagne. + +All Rostov's cards were beaten and he had eight hundred rubles +scored up against him. He wrote "800 rubles" on a card, but while +the waiter filled his glass he changed his mind and altered it to +his usual stake of twenty rubles. + +"Leave it," said Dolokhov, though he did not seem to be even looking +at Rostov, "you'll win it back all the sooner. I lose to the others +but win from you. Or are you afraid of me?" he asked again. + +Rostov submitted. He let the eight hundred remain and laid down a +seven of hearts with a torn corner, which he had picked up from the +floor. He well remembered that seven afterwards. He laid down the +seven of hearts, on which with a broken bit of chalk he had written +"800 rubles" in clear upright figures; he emptied the glass of warm +champagne that was handed him, smiled at Dolokhov's words, and with +a sinking heart, waiting for a seven to turn up, gazed at Dolokhov's +hands which held the pack. Much depended on Rostov's winning or losing +on that seven of hearts. On the previous Sunday the old count had +given his son two thousand rubles, and though he always disliked +speaking of money difficulties had told Nicholas that this was all +he could let him have till May, and asked him to be more economical +this time. Nicholas had replied that it would be more than enough +for him and that he gave his word of honor not to take anything more +till the spring. Now only twelve hundred rubles was left of that +money, so that this seven of hearts meant for him not only the loss of +sixteen hundred rubles, but the necessity of going back on his word. +With a sinking heart he watched Dolokhov's hands and thought, "Now +then, make haste and let me have this card and I'll take my cap and +drive home to supper with Denisov, Natasha, and Sonya, and will +certainly never touch a card again." At that moment his home life, +jokes with Petya, talks with Sonya, duets with Natasha, piquet with +his father, and even his comfortable bed in the house on the +Povarskaya rose before him with such vividness, clearness, and charm +that it seemed as if it were all a lost and unappreciated bliss, +long past. He could not conceive that a stupid chance, letting the +seven be dealt to the right rather than to the left, might deprive him +of all this happiness, newly appreciated and newly illumined, and +plunge him into the depths of unknown and undefined misery. That could +not be, yet he awaited with a sinking heart the movement of Dolokhov's +hands. Those broad, reddish hands, with hairy wrists visible from +under the shirt cuffs, laid down the pack and took up a glass and a +pipe that were handed him. + +"So you are not afraid to play with me?" repeated Dolokhov, and as +if about to tell a good story he put down the cards, leaned back in +his chair, and began deliberately with a smile: + +"Yes, gentlemen, I've been told there's a rumor going about Moscow +that I'm a sharper, so I advise you to be careful." + +"Come now, deal!" exclaimed Rostov. + +"Oh, those Moscow gossips!" said Dolokhov, and he took up the +cards with a smile. + +"Aah!" Rostov almost screamed lifting both hands to his head. The +seven he needed was lying uppermost, the first card in the pack. He +had lost more than he could pay. + +"Still, don't ruin yourself!" said Dolokhov with a side glance at +Rostov as he continued to deal. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +An hour and a half later most of the players were but little +interested in their own play. + +The whole interest was concentrated on Rostov. Instead of sixteen +hundred rubles he had a long column of figures scored against him, +which he had reckoned up to ten thousand, but that now, as he +vaguely supposed, must have risen to fifteen thousand. In reality it +already exceeded twenty thousand rubles. Dolokhov was no longer +listening to stories or telling them, but followed every movement of +Rostov's hands and occasionally ran his eyes over the score against +him. He had decided to play until that score reached forty-three +thousand. He had fixed on that number because forty-three was the +sum of his and Sonya's joint ages. Rostov, leaning his head on both +hands, sat at the table which was scrawled over with figures, wet with +spilled wine, and littered with cards. One tormenting impression did +not leave him: that those broad-boned reddish hands with hairy +wrists visible from under the shirt sleeves, those hands which he +loved and hated, held him in their power. + +"Six hundred rubles, ace, a corner, a nine... winning it back's +impossible... Oh, how pleasant it was at home!... The knave, double or +quits... it can't be!... And why is he doing this to me?" Rostov +pondered. Sometimes he staked a large sum, but Dolokhov refused to +accept it and fixed the stake himself. Nicholas submitted to him, +and at one moment prayed to God as he had done on the battlefield at +the bridge over the Enns, and then guessed that the card that came +first to hand from the crumpled heap under the table would save him, +now counted the cords on his coat and took a card with that number and +tried staking the total of his losses on it, then he looked round +for aid from the other players, or peered at the now cold face of +Dolokhov and tried to read what was passing in his mind. + +"He knows of course what this loss means to me. He can't want my +ruin. Wasn't he my friend? Wasn't I fond of him? But it's not his +fault. What's he to do if he has such luck?... And it's not my fault +either," he thought to himself, "I have done nothing wrong. Have I +killed anyone, or insulted or wished harm to anyone? Why such a +terrible misfortune? And when did it begin? Such a little while ago +I came to this table with the thought of winning a hundred rubles to +buy that casket for Mamma's name day and then going home. I was so +happy, so free, so lighthearted! And I did not realize how happy I +was! When did that end and when did this new, terrible state of things +begin? What marked the change? I sat all the time in this same place +at this table, chose and placed cards, and watched those broad-boned +agile hands in the same way. When did it happen and what has happened? +I am well and strong and still the same and in the same place. No, +it can't be! Surely it will all end in nothing!" + +He was flushed and bathed in perspiration, though the room was not +hot. His face was terrible and piteous to see, especially from its +helpless efforts to seem calm. + +The score against him reached the fateful sum of forty-three +thousand. Rostov had just prepared a card, by bending the corner of +which he meant to double the three thousand just put down to his +score, when Dolokhov, slamming down the pack of cards, put it aside +and began rapidly adding up the total of Rostov's debt, breaking the +chalk as he marked the figures in his clear, bold hand. + +"Supper, it's time for supper! And here are the gypsies!" + +Some swarthy men and women were really entering from the cold +outside and saying something in their gypsy accents. Nicholas +understood that it was all over; but he said in an indifferent tone: + +"Well, won't you go on? I had a splendid card all ready," as if it +were the fun of the game which interested him most. + +"It's all up! I'm lost!" thought he. "Now a bullet through my +brain--that's all that's left me!" And at the same time he said in a +cheerful voice: + +"Come now, just this one more little card!" + +"All right!" said Dolokhov, having finished the addition. "All +right! Twenty-one rubles," he said, pointing to the figure +twenty-one by which the total exceeded the round sum of forty-three +thousand; and taking up a pack he prepared to deal. Rostov +submissively unbent the corner of his card and, instead of the six +thousand he had intended, carefully wrote twenty-one. + +"It's all the same to me," he said. "I only want to see whether +you will let me win this ten, or beat it." + +Dolokhov began to deal seriously. Oh, how Rostov detested at that +moment those hands with their short reddish fingers and hairy +wrists, which held him in their power.... The ten fell to him. + +"You owe forty-three thousand, Count," said Dolokhov, and stretching +himself he rose from the table. "One does get tired sitting so +long," he added. + +"Yes, I'm tired too," said Rostov. + +Dolokhov cut him short, as if to remind him that it was not for +him to jest. + +"When am I to receive the money, Count?" + +Rostov, flushing, drew Dolokhov into the next room. + +"I cannot pay it all immediately. Will you take an I.O.U.?" he said. + +"I say, Rostov," said Dolokhov clearly, smiling and looking Nicholas +straight in the eyes, "you know the saying, 'Lucky in love, unlucky at +cards.' Your cousin is in love with you, I know." + +"Oh, it's terrible to feel oneself so in this man's power," +thought Rostov. He knew what a shock he would inflict on his father +and mother by the news of this loss, he knew what a relief it would be +to escape it all, and felt that Dolokhov knew that he could save him +from all this shame and sorrow, but wanted now to play with him as a +cat does with a mouse. + +"Your cousin..." Dolokhov started to say, but Nicholas interrupted +him. + +"My cousin has nothing to do with this and it's not necessary to +mention her!" he exclaimed fiercely. + +"Then when am I to have it?" + +"Tomorrow," replied Rostov and left the room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +To say "tomorrow" and keep up a dignified tone was not difficult, +but to go home alone, see his sisters, brother, mother, and father, +confess and ask for money he had no right to after giving his word +of honor, was terrible. + +At home, they had not yet gone to bed. The young people, after +returning from the theater, had had supper and were grouped round +the clavichord. As soon as Nicholas entered, he was enfolded in that +poetic atmosphere of love which pervaded the Rostov household that +winter and, now after Dolokhov's proposal and Iogel's ball, seemed +to have grown thicker round Sonya and Natasha as the air does before a +thunderstorm. Sonya and Natasha, in the light-blue dresses they had +worn at the theater, looking pretty and conscious of it, were standing +by the clavichord, happy and smiling. Vera was playing chess with +Shinshin in the drawing room. The old countess, waiting for the return +of her husband and son, sat playing patience with the old +gentlewoman who lived in their house. Denisov, with sparkling eyes and +ruffled hair, sat at the clavichord striking chords with his short +fingers, his legs thrown back and his eyes rolling as he sang, with +his small, husky, but true voice, some verses called "Enchantress," +which he had composed, and to which he was trying to fit music: + + Enchantress, say, to my forsaken lyre + What magic power is this recalls me still? + What spark has set my inmost soul on fire, + What is this bliss that makes my fingers thrill? + +He was singing in passionate tones, gazing with his +sparkling black-agate eyes at the frightened and happy Natasha. + +"Splendid! Excellent!" exclaimed Natasha. "Another verse," she +said, without noticing Nicholas. + +"Everything's still the same with them," thought Nicholas, +glancing into the drawing room, where he saw Vera and his mother +with the old lady. + +"Ah, and here's Nicholas!" cried Natasha, running up to him. + +"Is Papa at home?" he asked. + +"I am so glad you've come!" said Natasha, without answering him. "We +are enjoying ourselves! Vasili Dmitrich is staying a day longer for my +sake! Did you know?" + +"No, Papa is not back yet," said Sonya. + +"Nicholas, have you come? Come here, dear!" called the old +countess from the drawing room. + +Nicholas went to her, kissed her hand, and sitting down silently +at her table began to watch her hands arranging the cards. From the +dancing room, they still heard the laughter and merry voices trying to +persuade Natasha to sing. + +"All wight! All wight!" shouted Denisov. "It's no good making +excuses now! It's your turn to sing the ba'cawolla--I entweat you!" + +The countess glanced at her silent son. + +"What is the matter?" she asked. + +"Oh, nothing," said he, as if weary of being continually asked the +same question. "Will Papa be back soon?" + +"I expect so." + +"Everything's the same with them. They know nothing about it! +Where am I to go?" thought Nicholas, and went again into the dancing +room where the clavichord stood. + +Sonya was sitting at the clavichord, playing the prelude to +Denisov's favorite barcarolle. Natasha was preparing to sing. +Denisov was looking at her with enraptured eyes. + +Nicholas began pacing up and down the room. + +"Why do they want to make her sing? How can she sing? There's +nothing to be happy about!" thought he. + +Sonya struck the first chord of the prelude. + +"My God, I'm a ruined and dishonored man! A bullet through my +brain is the only thing left me--not singing!" his thoughts ran on. +"Go away? But where to? It's one--let them sing!" + +He continued to pace the room, looking gloomily at Denisov and the +girls and avoiding their eyes. + +"Nikolenka, what is the matter?" Sonya's eyes fixed on him seemed to +ask. She noticed at once that something had happened to him. + +Nicholas turned away from her. Natasha too, with her quick instinct, +had instantly noticed her brother's condition. But, though she noticed +it, she was herself in such high spirits at that moment, so far from +sorrow, sadness, or self-reproach, that she purposely deceived herself +as young people often do. "No, I am too happy now to spoil my +enjoyment by sympathy with anyone's sorrow," she felt, and she said to +herself: "No, I must be mistaken, he must be feeling happy, just as +I am." + +"Now, Sonya!" she said, going to the very middle of the room, +where she considered the resonance was best. + +Having lifted her head and let her arms droop lifelessly, as +ballet dancers do, Natasha, rising energetically from her heels to her +toes, stepped to the middle of the room and stood still. + +"Yes, that's me!" she seemed to say, answering the rapt gaze with +which Denisov followed her. + +"And what is she so pleased about?" thought Nicholas, looking at his +sister. "Why isn't she dull and ashamed?" + +Natasha took the first note, her throat swelled, her chest rose, her +eyes became serious. At that moment she was oblivious of her +surroundings, and from her smiling lips flowed sounds which anyone may +produce at the same intervals and hold for the same time, but which +leave you cold a thousand times and the thousand and first time thrill +you and make you weep. + +Natasha, that winter, had for the first time begun to sing +seriously, mainly because Denisov so delighted in her singing. She +no longer sang as a child, there was no longer in her singing that +comical, childish, painstaking effect that had been in it before; +but she did not yet sing well, as all the connoisseurs who heard her +said: "It is not trained, but it is a beautiful voice that must be +trained." Only they generally said this some time after she had +finished singing. While that untrained voice, with its incorrect +breathing and labored transitions, was sounding, even the connoisseurs +said nothing, but only delighted in it and wished to hear it again. In +her voice there was a virginal freshness, an unconsciousness of her +own powers, and an as yet untrained velvety softness, which so mingled +with her lack of art in singing that it seemed as if nothing in that +voice could be altered without spoiling it. + +"What is this?" thought Nicholas, listening to her with widely +opened eyes. "What has happened to her? How she is singing today!" And +suddenly the whole world centered for him on anticipation of the +next note, the next phrase, and everything in the world was divided +into three beats: "Oh mio crudele affetto."... One, two, three... one, +two, three... One... "Oh mio crudele affetto."... One, two, three... +One. "Oh, this senseless life of ours!" thought Nicholas. "All this +misery, and money, and Dolokhov, and anger, and honor--it's all +nonsense... but this is real.... Now then, Natasha, now then, dearest! +Now then, darling! How will she take that si? She's taken it! Thank +God!" And without noticing that he was singing, to strengthen the si +he sung a second, a third below the high note. "Ah, God! How fine! Did +I really take it? How fortunate!" he thought. + +Oh, how that chord vibrated, and how moved was something that was +finest in Rostov's soul! And this something was apart from +everything else in the world and above everything in the world. +"What were losses, and Dolokhov, and words of honor?... All +nonsense! One might kill and rob and yet be happy..." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +It was long since Rostov had felt such enjoyment from music as he +did that day. But no sooner had Natasha finished her barcarolle than +reality again presented itself. He got up without saying a word and +went downstairs to his own room. A quarter of an hour later the old +count came in from his Club, cheerful and contented. Nicholas, hearing +him drive up, went to meet him. + +"Well--had a good time?" said the old count, smiling gaily and +proudly at his son. + +Nicholas tried to say "Yes," but could not: and he nearly burst into +sobs. The count was lighting his pipe and did not notice his son's +condition. + +"Ah, it can't be avoided!" thought Nicholas, for the first and +last time. And suddenly, in the most casual tone, which made him +feel ashamed of himself, he said, as if merely asking his +father to let him have the carriage to drive to town: + +"Papa, I have come on a matter of business. I was nearly forgetting. +I need some money." + +"Dear me!" said his father, who was in a specially good humor. "I +told you it would not be enough. How much?" + +"Very much," said Nicholas flushing, and with a stupid careless +smile, for which he was long unable to forgive himself, "I have lost a +little, I mean a good deal, a great deal--forty three thousand." + +"What! To whom?... Nonsense!" cried the count, suddenly reddening +with an apoplectic flush over neck and nape as old people do. + +"I promised to pay tomorrow," said Nicholas. + +"Well!..." said the old count, spreading out his arms and sinking +helplessly on the sofa. + +"It can't be helped It happens to everyone!" said the son, with a +bold, free, and easy tone, while in his soul he regarded himself as +a worthless scoundrel whose whole life could not atone for his +crime. He longed to kiss his father's hands and kneel to beg his +forgiveness, but said, in a careless and even rude voice, that it +happens to everyone! + +The old count cast down his eyes on hearing his son's words and +began bustlingly searching for something. + +"Yes, yes," he muttered, "it will be difficult, I fear, difficult to +raise... happens to everybody! Yes, who has not done it?" + +And with a furtive glance at his son's face, the count went out of +the room.... Nicholas had been prepared for resistance, but had not at +all expected this. + +"Papa! Pa-pa!" he called after him, sobbing, "forgive me!" And +seizing his father's hand, he pressed it to his lips and burst into +tears. + +While father and son were having their explanation, the mother and +daughter were having one not less important. Natasha came running to +her mother, quite excited. + +"Mamma!... Mamma!... He has made me..." + +"Made what?" + +"Made, made me an offer, Mamma! Mamma!" she exclaimed. + +The countess did not believe her ears. Denisov had proposed. To +whom? To this chit of a girl, Natasha, who not so long ago was playing +with dolls and who was still having lessons. + +"Don't, Natasha! What nonsense!" she said, hoping it was a joke. + +"Nonsense, indeed! I am telling you the fact," said Natasha +indignantly. "I come to ask you what to do, and you call it +'nonsense!'" + +The countess shrugged her shoulders. + +"If it is true that Monsieur Denisov has made you a proposal, tell him +he is a fool, that's all!" + +"No, he's not a fool!" replied Natasha indignantly and seriously. + +"Well then, what do you want? You're all in love nowadays. Well, +if you are in love, marry him!" said the countess, with a laugh of +annoyance. "Good luck to you!" + +"No, Mamma, I'm not in love with him, I suppose I'm not in love with +him." + +"Well then, tell him so." + +"Mamma, are you cross? Don't be cross, dear! Is it my fault?" + +"No, but what is it, my dear? Do you want me to go and tell him?" +said the countess smiling. + +"No, I will do it myself, only tell me what to say. It's all very +well for you," said Natasha, with a responsive smile. "You should have +seen how he said it! I know he did not mean to say it, but it came out +accidently." + +"Well, all the same, you must refuse him." + +"No, I mustn't. I am so sorry for him! He's so nice." + +"Well then, accept his offer. It's high time for you to be married," +answered the countess sharply and sarcastically. + +"No, Mamma, but I'm so sorry for him. I don't know how I'm to say +it." + +"And there's nothing for you to say. I shall speak to him myself," +said the countess, indignant that they should have dared to treat this +little Natasha as grown up. + +"No, not on any account! I will tell him myself, and you'll listen +at the door," and Natasha ran across the drawing room to the dancing +hall, where Denisov was sitting on the same chair by the clavichord +with his face in his hands. + +He jumped up at the sound of her light step. + +"Nataly," he said, moving with rapid steps toward her, "decide my +fate. It is in your hands." + +"Vasili Dmitrich, I'm so sorry for you!... No, but you are so +nice... but it won't do...not that... but as a friend, I shall +always love you." + +Denisov bent over her hand and she heard strange sounds she did +not understand. She kissed his rough curly black head. At this +instant, they heard the quick rustle of the countess' dress. She +came up to them. + +"Vasili Dmitrich, I thank you for the honor," she said, with an +embarrassed voice, though it sounded severe to Denisov--"but my +daughter is so young, and I thought that, as my son's friend, you +would have addressed yourself first to me. In that case you would +not have obliged me to give this refusal." + +"Countess..." said Denisov, with downcast eyes and a guilty face. He +tried to say more, but faltered. + +Natasha could not remain calm, seeing him in such a plight. She +began to sob aloud. + +"Countess, I have done w'ong," Denisov went on in an unsteady voice, +"but believe me, I so adore your daughter and all your family that I +would give my life twice over..." He looked at the countess, and +seeing her severe face said: "Well, good-by, Countess," and kissing +her hand, he left the room with quick resolute strides, without +looking at Natasha. + + +Next day Rostov saw Denisov off. He did not wish to stay another day +in Moscow. All Denisov's Moscow friends gave him a farewell +entertainment at the gypsies', with the result that he had no +recollection of how he was put in the sleigh or of the first three +stages of his journey. + +After Denisov's departure, Rostov spent another fortnight in Moscow, +without going out of the house, waiting for the money his father could +not at once raise, and he spent most of his time in the girls' room. + +Sonya was more tender and devoted to him than ever. It was as if she +wanted to show him that his losses were an achievement that made her +love him all the more, but Nicholas now considered himself unworthy of +her. + +He filled the girls' albums with verses and music, and having at +last sent Dolokhov the whole forty-three thousand rubles and +received his receipt, he left at the end of November, without taking +leave of any of his acquaintances, to overtake his regiment which +was already in Poland. + + + + + +BOOK FIVE: 1806 --07 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +After his interview with his wife Pierre left for Petersburg. At the +Torzhok post station, either there were no horses or the postmaster +would not supply them. Pierre was obliged to wait. Without undressing, +he lay down on the leather sofa in front of a round table, put his big +feet in their overboots on the table, and began to reflect. + +"Will you have the portmanteaus brought in? And a bed got ready, and +tea?" asked his valet. + +Pierre gave no answer, for he neither heard nor saw anything. He had +begun to think of the last station and was still pondering on the same +question--one so important that he took no notice of what went on +around him. Not only was he indifferent as to whether he got to +Petersburg earlier or later, or whether he secured accommodation at +this station, but compared to the thoughts that now occupied him it +was a matter of indifference whether he remained there for a few hours +or for the rest of his life. + +The postmaster, his wife, the valet, and a peasant woman selling +Torzhok embroidery came into the room offering their services. Without +changing his careless attitude, Pierre looked at them over his +spectacles unable to understand what they wanted or how they could +go on living without having solved the problems that so absorbed +him. He had been engrossed by the same thoughts ever since the day +he returned from Sokolniki after the duel and had spent that first +agonizing, sleepless night. But now, in the solitude of the journey, +they seized him with special force. No matter what he thought about, +he always returned to these same questions which he could not solve +and yet could not cease to ask himself. It was as if the thread of the +chief screw which held his life together were stripped, so that the +screw could not get in or out, but went on turning uselessly in the +same place. + +The postmaster came in and began obsequiously to beg his +excellency to wait only two hours, when, come what might, he would let +his excellency have the courier horses. It was plain that he was lying +and only wanted to get more money from the traveler. + +"Is this good or bad?" Pierre asked himself. "It is good for me, bad +for another traveler, and for himself it's unavoidable, because he +needs money for food; the man said an officer had once given him a +thrashing for letting a private traveler have the courier horses. +But the officer thrashed him because he had to get on as quickly as +possible. And I," continued Pierre, "shot Dolokhov because I +considered myself injured, and Louis XVI was executed because they +considered him a criminal, and a year later they executed those who +executed him--also for some reason. What is bad? What is good? What +should one love and what hate? What does one live for? And what am +I? What is life, and what is death? What power governs all?" + +There was no answer to any of these questions, except one, and +that not a logical answer and not at all a reply to them. The answer +was: "You'll die and all will end. You'll die and know all, or cease +asking." But dying was also dreadful. + +The Torzhok peddler woman, in a whining voice, went on offering +her wares, especially a pair of goatskin slippers. "I have hundreds of +rubles I don't know what to do with, and she stands in her tattered +cloak looking timidly at me," he thought. "And what does she want +the money for? As if that money could add a hair's breadth to +happiness or peace of mind. Can anything in the world make her or me +less a prey to evil and death?--death which ends all and must come +today or tomorrow--at any rate, in an instant as compared with +eternity." And again he twisted the screw with the stripped thread, +and again it turned uselessly in the same place. + +His servant handed him a half-cut novel, in the form of letters, +by Madame de Souza. He began reading about the sufferings and virtuous +struggles of a certain Emilie de Mansfeld. "And why did she resist her +seducer when she loved him?" he thought. "God could not have put +into her heart an impulse that was against His will. My wife--as she +once was--did not struggle, and perhaps she was right. Nothing has +been found out, nothing discovered," Pierre again said to himself. +"All we can know is that we know nothing. And that's the height of +human wisdom." + +Everything within and around him seemed confused, senseless, and +repellent. Yet in this very repugnance to all his circumstances Pierre +found a kind of tantalizing satisfaction. + +"I make bold to ask your excellency to move a little for this +gentleman," said the postmaster, entering the room followed by another +traveler, also detained for lack of horses. + +The newcomer was a short, large-boned, yellow-faced, wrinkled old +man, with gray bushy eyebrows overhanging bright eyes of an indefinite +grayish color. + +Pierre took his feet off the table, stood up, and lay down on a +bed that had been got ready for him, glancing now and then at the +newcomer, who, with a gloomy and tired face, was wearily taking off +his wraps with the aid of his servant, and not looking at Pierre. With +a pair of felt boots on his thin bony legs, and keeping on a worn, +nankeen-covered, sheepskin coat, the traveler sat down on the sofa, +leaned back his big head with its broad temples and close-cropped +hair, and looked at Bezukhov. The stern, shrewd, and penetrating +expression of that look struck Pierre. He felt a wish to speak to +the stranger, but by the time he had made up his mind to ask him a +question about the roads, the traveler had closed his eyes. His +shriveled old hands were folded and on the finger of one of them +Pierre noticed a large cast iron ring with a seal representing a +death's head. The stranger sat without stirring, either resting or, as +it seemed to Pierre, sunk in profound and calm meditation. His servant +was also a yellow, wrinkled old man, without beard or mustache, +evidently not because he was shaven but because they had never +grown. This active old servant was unpacking the traveler's canteen +and preparing tea. He brought in a boiling samovar. When everything +was ready, the stranger opened his eyes, moved to the table, filled +a tumbler with tea for himself and one for the beardless old man to +whom he passed it. Pierre began to feel a sense of uneasiness, and the +need, even the inevitability, of entering into conversation with +this stranger. + +The servant brought back his tumbler turned upside down,* with an +unfinished bit of nibbled sugar, and asked if anything more would be +wanted. + + +*To indicate he did not want more tea. + + +"No. Give me the book," said the stranger. + +The servant handed him a book which Pierre took to be a devotional +work, and the traveler became absorbed in it. Pierre looked at him. +All at once the stranger closed the book, putting in a marker, and +again, leaning with his arms on the back of the sofa, sat in his +former position with his eyes shut. Pierre looked at him and had not +time to turn away when the old man, opening his eyes, fixed his steady +and severe gaze straight on Pierre's face. + +Pierre felt confused and wished to avoid that look, but the bright +old eyes attracted him irresistibly. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +"I have the pleasure of addressing Count Bezukhov, if I am not +mistaken," said the stranger in a deliberate and loud voice. + +Pierre looked silently and inquiringly at him over his spectacles. + +"I have heard of you, my dear sir," continued the stranger, "and +of your misfortune." He seemed to emphasize the last word, as if to +say--"Yes, misfortune! Call it what you please, I know that what +happened to you in Moscow was a misfortune."--"I regret it very +much, my dear sir." + +Pierre flushed and, hurriedly putting his legs down from the bed, +bent forward toward the old man with a forced and timid smile. + +"I have not referred to this out of curiosity, my dear sir, but +for greater reasons." + +He paused, his gaze still on Pierre, and moved aside on the sofa +by way of inviting the other to take a seat beside him. Pierre felt +reluctant to enter into conversation with this old man, but, +submitting to him involuntarily, came up and sat down beside him. + +"You are unhappy, my dear sir," the stranger continued. "You are +young and I am old. I should like to help you as far as lies in my +power." + +"Oh, yes!" said Pierre, with a forced smile. "I am very grateful +to you. Where are you traveling from?" + +The stranger's face was not genial, it was even cold and severe, but +in spite of this, both the face and words of his new acquaintance were +irresistibly attractive to Pierre. + +"But if for reason you don't feel inclined to talk to me," said +the old man, "say so, my dear sir." And he suddenly smiled, in an +unexpected and tenderly paternal way. + +"Oh no, not at all! On the contrary, I am very glad to make your +acquaintance," said Pierre. And again, glancing at the stranger's +hands, he looked more closely at the ring, with its skull--a Masonic +sign. + +"Allow me to ask," he said, "are you a Mason?" + +"Yes, I belong to the Brotherhood of the Freemasons," said the +stranger, looking deeper and deeper into Pierre's eyes. "And in +their name and my own I hold out a brotherly hand to you." + +"I am afraid," said Pierre, smiling, and wavering between the +confidence the personality of the Freemason inspired in him and his +own habit of ridiculing the Masonic beliefs--"I am afraid I am very +far from understanding--how am I to put it?--I am afraid my way of +looking at the world is so opposed to yours that we shall not +understand one another." + +"I know your outlook," said the Mason, "and the view of life you +mention, and which you think is the result of your own mental efforts, +is the one held by the majority of people, and is the invariable fruit +of pride, indolence, and ignorance. Forgive me, my dear sir, but if +I had not known it I should not have addressed you. Your view of +life is a regrettable delusion." + +"Just as I may suppose you to be deluded," said Pierre, with a faint +smile. + +"I should never dare to say that I know the truth," said the +Mason, whose words struck Pierre more and more by their precision +and firmness. "No one can attain to truth by himself. Only by laying +stone on stone with the cooperation of all, by the millions of +generations from our forefather Adam to our own times, is that +temple reared which is to be a worthy dwelling place of the Great +God," he added, and closed his eyes. + +"I ought to tell you that I do not believe... do not believe in God," +said Pierre, regretfully and with an effort, feeling it essential to +speak the whole truth. + +The Mason looked intently at Pierre and smiled as a rich man with +millions in hand might smile at a poor fellow who told him that he, +poor man, had not the five rubles that would make him happy. + +"Yes, you do not know Him, my dear sir," said the Mason. "You cannot +know Him. You do not know Him and that is why you are unhappy." + +"Yes, yes, I am unhappy," assented Pierre. "But what am I to do?" + +"You know Him not, my dear sir, and so you are very unhappy. You +do not know Him, but He is here, He is in me, He is in my words, He +is in thee, and even in those blasphemous words thou hast just +uttered!" pronounced the Mason in a stern and tremulous voice. + +He paused and sighed, evidently trying to calm himself. + +"If He were not," he said quietly, "you and I would not be speaking of +Him, my dear sir. Of what, of whom, are we speaking? Whom hast thou +denied?" he suddenly asked with exulting austerity and authority in +his voice. "Who invented Him, if He did not exist? Whence came thy +conception of the existence of such an incomprehensible Being? didst +thou, and why did the whole world, conceive the idea of the existence +of such an incomprehensible Being, a Being all-powerful, eternal, and +infinite in all His attributes?..." + +He stopped and remained silent for a long time. + +Pierre could not and did not wish to break this silence. + +"He exists, but to understand Him is hard," the Mason began again, +looking not at Pierre but straight before him, and turning the +leaves of his book with his old hands which from excitement he could +not keep still. "If it were a man whose existence thou didst doubt I +could bring him to thee, could take him by the hand and show him to +thee. But how can I, an insignificant mortal, show His omnipotence, +His infinity, and all His mercy to one who is blind, or who shuts +his eyes that he may not see or understand Him and may not see or +understand his own vileness and sinfulness?" He paused again. "Who art +thou? Thou dreamest that thou art wise because thou couldst utter +those blasphemous words," he went on, with a somber and scornful +smile. "And thou art more foolish and unreasonable than a little +child, who, playing with the parts of a skillfully made watch, dares +to say that, as he does not understand its use, he does not believe in +the master who made it. To know Him is hard.... For ages, from our +forefather Adam to our own day, we labor to attain that knowledge +and are still infinitely far from our aim; but in our lack of +understanding we see only our weakness and His greatness...." + +Pierre listened with swelling heart, gazing into the Mason's face +with shining eyes, not interrupting or questioning him, but +believing with his whole soul what the stranger said. Whether he +accepted the wise reasoning contained in the Mason's words, or +believed as a child believes, in the speaker's tone of conviction +and earnestness, or the tremor of the speaker's voice--which sometimes +almost broke--or those brilliant aged eyes grown old in this +conviction, or the calm firmness and certainty of his vocation, +which radiated from his whole being (and which struck Pierre +especially by contrast with his own dejection and hopelessness)--at +any rate, Pierre longed with his whole soul to believe and he did +believe, and felt a joyful sense of comfort, regeneration, and +return to life. + +"He is not to be apprehended by reason, but by life," said the +Mason. + +"I do not understand," said Pierre, feeling with dismay doubts +reawakening. He was afraid of any want of clearness, any weakness, +in the Mason's arguments; he dreaded not to be able to believe in him. +"I don't understand," he said, "how it is that the mind of man +cannot attain the knowledge of which you speak." + +The Mason smiled with his gentle fatherly smile. + +"The highest wisdom and truth are like the purest liquid we may wish +to imbibe," he said. "Can I receive that pure liquid into an impure +vessel and judge of its purity? Only by the inner purification of +myself can I retain in some degree of purity the liquid I receive." + +"Yes, yes, that is so," said Pierre joyfully. + +"The highest wisdom is not founded on reason alone, not on those +worldly sciences of physics, history, chemistry, and the like, into +which intellectual knowledge is divided. The highest wisdom is one. +The highest wisdom has but one science--the science of the whole--the +science explaining the whole creation and man's place in it. To +receive that science it is necessary to purify and renew one's inner +self, and so before one can know, it is necessary to believe and to +perfect one's self. And to attain this end, we have the light called +conscience that God has implanted in our souls." + +"Yes, yes," assented Pierre. + +"Look then at thy inner self with the eyes of the spirit, and ask +thyself whether thou art content with thyself. What hast thou attained +relying on reason only? What art thou? You are young, you are rich, +you are clever, you are well educated. And what have you done with all +these good gifts? Are you content with yourself and with your life?" + +"No, I hate my life," Pierre muttered, wincing. + +"Thou hatest it. Then change it, purify thyself; and as thou art +purified, thou wilt gain wisdom. Look at your life, my dear sir. How +have you spent it? In riotous orgies and debauchery, receiving +everything from society and giving nothing in return. You have +become the possessor of wealth. How have you used it? What have you +done for your neighbor? Have you ever thought of your tens of +thousands of slaves? Have you helped them physically and morally? +No! You have profited by their toil to lead a profligate life. That is +what you have done. Have you chosen a post in which you might be of +service to your neighbor? No! You have spent your life in idleness. +Then you married, my dear sir--took on yourself responsibility for the +guidance of a young woman; and what have you done? You have not helped +her to find the way of truth, my dear sir, but have thrust her into an +abyss of deceit and misery. A man offended you and you shot him, and +you say you do not know God and hate your life. There is nothing +strange in that, my dear sir!" + +After these words, the Mason, as if tired by his long discourse, +again leaned his arms on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. +Pierre looked at that aged, stern, motionless, almost lifeless face +and moved his lips without uttering a sound. He wished to say, "Yes, a +vile, idle, vicious life!" but dared not break the silence. + +The Mason cleared his throat huskily, as old men do, and called +his servant. + +"How about the horses?" he asked, without looking at Pierre. + +"The exchange horses have just come," answered the servant. "Will +you not rest here?" + +"No, tell them to harness." + +"Can he really be going away leaving me alone without having told me +all, and without promising to help me?" thought Pierre, rising with +downcast head; and he began to pace the room, glancing occasionally at +the Mason. "Yes, I never thought of it, but I have led a +contemptible and profligate life, though I did not like it and did not +want to," thought Pierre. "But this man knows the truth and, if he +wished to, could disclose it to me." + +Pierre wished to say this to the Mason, but did not dare to. The +traveler, having packed his things with his practiced hands, began +fastening his coat. When he had finished, he turned to Bezukhov, and +said in a tone of indifferent politeness: + +"Where are you going to now, my dear sir?" + +"I?... I'm going to Petersburg," answered Pierre, in a childlike, +hesitating voice. "I thank you. I agree with all you have said. But do +not suppose me to be so bad. With my whole soul I wish to be what +you would have me be, but I have never had help from anyone.... But it +is I, above all, who am to blame for everything. Help me, teach me, +and perhaps I may..." + +Pierre could not go on. He gulped and turned away. + +The Mason remained silent for a long time, evidently considering. + +"Help comes from God alone," he said, "but such measure of help as +our Order can bestow it will render you, my dear sir. You are going to +Petersburg. Hand this to Count Willarski" (he took out his notebook +and wrote a few words on a large sheet of paper folded in four). +"Allow me to give you a piece of advice. When you reach the capital, +first of all devote some time to solitude and self-examination and +do not resume your former way of life. And now I wish you a good +journey, my dear sir," he added, seeing that his servant had +entered... "and success." + +The traveler was Joseph Alexeevich Bazdeev, as Pierre saw from the +postmaster's book. Bazdeev had been one of the best-known Freemasons +and Martinists, even in Novikov's time. For a long while after he +had gone, Pierre did not go to bed or order horses but paced up and +down the room, pondering over his vicious past, and with a rapturous +sense of beginning anew pictured to himself the blissful, +irreproachable, virtuous future that seemed to him so easy. It +seemed to him that he had been vicious only because he had somehow +forgotten how good it is to be virtuous. Not a trace of his former +doubts remained in his soul. He firmly believed in the possibility +of the brotherhood of men united in the aim of supporting one +another in the path of virtue, and that is how Freemasonry presented +itself to him. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On reaching Petersburg Pierre did not let anyone know of his +arrival, he went nowhere and spent whole days in reading Thomas a +Kempis, whose book had been sent him by someone unknown. One thing +he continually realized as he read that book: the joy, hitherto +unknown to him, of believing in the possibility of attaining +perfection, and in the possibility of active brotherly love among men, +which Joseph Alexeevich had revealed to him. A week after his arrival, +the young Polish count, Willarski, whom Pierre had known slightly in +Petersburg society, came into his room one evening in the official and +ceremonious manner in which Dolokhov's second had called on him, +and, having closed the door behind him and satisfied himself that +there was nobody else in the room, addressed Pierre. + +"I have come to you with a message and an offer, Count," he said +without sitting down. "A person of very high standing in our +Brotherhood has made application for you to be received into our Order +before the usual term and has proposed to me to be your sponsor. I +consider it a sacred duty to fulfill that person's wishes. Do you wish +to enter the Brotherhood of Freemasons under my sponsorship?" + +The cold, austere tone of this man, whom he had almost always +before met at balls, amiably smiling in the society of the most +brilliant women, surprised Pierre. + +"Yes, I do wish it," said he. + +Willarski bowed his head. + +"One more question, Count," he said, "which I beg you to answer in all +sincerity--not as a future Mason but as an honest man: have you +renounced your former convictions--do you believe in God?" + +Pierre considered. + +"Yes... yes, I believe in God," he said. + +"In that case..." began Willarski, but Pierre interrupted him. + +"Yes, I do believe in God," he repeated. + +"In that case we can go," said Willarski. "My carriage is at your +service." + +Willarski was silent throughout the drive. To Pierre's inquiries +as to what he must do and how he should answer, Willarski only replied +that brothers more worthy than he would test him and that Pierre had +only to tell the truth. + +Having entered the courtyard of a large house where the Lodge had +its headquarters, and having ascended a dark staircase, they entered a +small well-lit anteroom where they took off their cloaks without the +aid of a servant. From there they passed into another room. A man in +strange attire appeared at the door. Willarski, stepping toward him, +said something to him in French in an undertone and then went up to +a small wardrobe in which Pierre noticed garments such as he had never +seen before. Having taken a kerchief from the cupboard, Willarski +bound Pierre's eyes with it and tied it in a knot behind, catching +some hairs painfully in the knot. Then he drew his face down, kissed +him, and taking him by the hand led him forward. The hairs tied in the +knot hurt Pierre and there were lines of pain on his face and a +shamefaced smile. His huge figure, with arms hanging down and with a +puckered, though smiling face, moved after Willarski with uncertain, +timid steps. + +Having led him about ten paces, Willarski stopped. + +"Whatever happens to you," he said, "you must bear it all manfully +if you have firmly resolved to join our Brotherhood." (Pierre nodded +affirmatively.) "When you hear a knock at the door, you will uncover +your eyes," added Willarski. "I wish you courage and success," and, +pressing Pierre's hand, he went out. + +Left alone, Pierre went on smiling in the same way. Once or twice he +shrugged his and raised his hand to the kerchief, as if wishing to +take it off, but let it drop again. The five minutes spent with his +eyes bandaged seemed to him an hour. His arms felt numb, his legs +almost gave way, it seemed to him that he was tired out. He +experienced a variety of most complex sensations. He felt afraid of +what would happen to him and still more afraid of showing his fear. He +felt curious to know what was going to happen and what would be +revealed to him; but most of all, he felt joyful that the moment had +come when he would at last start on that path of regeneration and on +the actively virtuous life of which he had been dreaming since he +met Joseph Alexeevich. Loud knocks were heard at the door. Pierre took +the bandage off his eyes and glanced around him. The room was in black +darkness, only a small lamp was burning inside something white. Pierre +went nearer and saw that the lamp stood on a black table on which +lay an open book. The book was the Gospel, and the white thing with +the lamp inside was a human skull with its cavities and teeth. After +reading the first words of the Gospel: "In the beginning was the +Word and the Word was with God," Pierre went round the table and saw a +large open box filled with something. It was a coffin with bones +inside. He was not at all surprised by what he saw. Hoping to enter on +an entirely new life quite unlike the old one, he expected +everything to be unusual, even more unusual than what he was seeing. A +skull, a coffin, the Gospel--it seemed to him that he had expected all +this and even more. Trying to stimulate his emotions he looked around. +"God, death, love, the brotherhood of man," he kept saying to himself, +associating these words with vague yet joyful ideas. The door opened +and someone came in. + +By the dim light, to which Pierre had already become accustomed, +he saw rather short man. Having evidently come from the light into the +darkness, the man paused, then moved with cautious steps toward the +table and placed on it his small leather-gloved hands. + +This short man had on a white leather apron which covered his +chest and part of his legs; he had on a kind of necklace above which +rose a high white ruffle, outlining his rather long face which was lit +up from below. + +"For what have you come hither?" asked the newcomer, turning in +Pierre's direction at a slight rustle made by the latter. "Why have +you, who do not believe in the truth of the light and who have not +seen the light, come here? What do you seek from us? Wisdom, virtue, +enlightenment?" + +At the moment the door opened and the stranger came in, Pierre +felt a sense of awe and veneration such as he had experienced in his +boyhood at confession; he felt himself in the presence of one socially +a complete stranger, yet nearer to him through the brotherhood of man. +With bated breath and beating heart he moved toward the Rhetor (by +which name the brother who prepared a seeker for entrance into the +Brotherhood was known). Drawing nearer, he recognized in the Rhetor +a man he knew, Smolyaninov, and it mortified him to think that the +newcomer was an acquaintance--he wished him simply a brother and a +virtuous instructor. For a long time he could not utter a word, so +that the Rhetor had to repeat his question. + +"Yes... I... I... desire regeneration," Pierre uttered with +difficulty. + +"Very well," said Smolyaninov, and went on at once: "Have you any +idea of the means by which our holy Order will help you to reach +your aim?" said he quietly and quickly. + +"I... hope... for guidance... help... in regeneration," said Pierre, +with a trembling voice and some difficulty in utterance due to his +excitement and to being unaccustomed to speak of abstract matters in +Russian. + +"What is your conception of Freemasonry?" + +"I imagine that Freemasonry is the fraternity and equality of men +who have virtuous aims," said Pierre, feeling ashamed of the +inadequacy of his words for the solemnity of the moment, as he +spoke. "I imagine..." + +"Good!" said the Rhetor quickly, apparently satisfied with this +answer. "Have you sought for means of attaining your aim in religion?" + +"No, I considered it erroneous and did not follow it," said +Pierre, so softly that the Rhetor did not hear him and asked him +what he was saying. "I have been an atheist," answered Pierre. + +"You are seeking for truth in order to follow its laws in your life, +therefore you seek wisdom and virtue. Is that not so?" said the +Rhetor, after a moment's pause. + +"Yes, yes," assented Pierre. + +The Rhetor cleared his throat, crossed his gloved hands on his +breast, and began to speak. + +"Now I must disclose to you the chief aim of our Order," he said, +"and if this aim coincides with yours, you may enter our Brotherhood +with profit. The first and chief object of our Order, the foundation +on which it rests and which no human power can destroy, is the +preservation and handing on to posterity of a certain important +mystery... which has come down to us from the remotest ages, even from +the first man--a mystery on which perhaps the fate of mankind depends. +But since this mystery is of such a nature that nobody can know or use +it unless he be prepared by long and diligent self-purification, not +everyone can hope to attain it quickly. Hence we have a secondary aim, +that of preparing our members as much as possible to reform their +hearts, to purify and enlighten their minds, by means handed on to +us by tradition from those who have striven to attain this mystery, +and thereby to render them capable of receiving it. + +"By purifying and regenerating our members we try, thirdly, to +improve the whole human race, offering it in our members an example of +piety and virtue, and thereby try with all our might to combat the +evil which sways the world. Think this over and I will come to you +again." + +"To combat the evil which sways the world..." Pierre repeated, and a +mental image of his future activity in this direction rose in his +mind. He imagined men such as he had himself been a fortnight ago, and +he addressed an edifying exhortation to them. He imagined to himself +vicious and unfortunate people whom he would assist by word and +deed, imagined oppressors whose victims he would rescue. Of the +three objects mentioned by the Rhetor, this last, that of improving +mankind, especially appealed to Pierre. The important mystery +mentioned by the Rhetor, though it aroused his curiosity, did not seem +to him essential, and the second aim, that of purifying and +regenerating himself, did not much interest him because at that moment +he felt with delight that he was already perfectly cured of his former +faults and was ready for all that was good. + +Half an hour later, the Rhetor returned to inform the seeker of +the seven virtues, corresponding to the seven steps of Solomon's +temple, which every Freemason should cultivate in himself. These +virtues were: 1. Discretion, the keeping of the secrets of the Order. + 2. Obedience to those of higher ranks in the Order. 3. Morality. 4. +Love of mankind. 5. Courage. 6. Generosity. 7. The love of death. + +"In the seventh place, try, by the frequent thought of death," the +Rhetor said, "to bring yourself to regard it not as a dreaded foe, but +as a friend that frees the soul grown weary in the labors of virtue +from this distressful life, and leads it to its place of recompense +and peace." + +"Yes, that must be so," thought Pierre, when after these words the +Rhetor went away, leaving him to solitary meditation. "It must be +so, but I am still so weak that I love my life, the meaning of which +is only now gradually opening before me." But five of the other +virtues which Pierre recalled, counting them on his fingers, he felt +already in his soul: courage, generosity, morality, love of mankind, +and especially obedience--which did not even seem to him a virtue, but +a joy. (He now felt so glad to be free from his own lawlessness and to +submit his will to those who knew the indubitable truth.) He forgot +what the seventh virtue was and could not recall it. + +The third time the Rhetor came back more quickly and asked Pierre +whether he was still firm in his intention and determined to submit to +all that would be required of him. + +"I am ready for everything," said Pierre. + +"I must also inform you," said the Rhetor, "that our Order +delivers its teaching not in words only but also by other means, which +may perhaps have a stronger effect on the sincere seeker after +wisdom and virtue than mere words. This chamber with what you see +therein should already have suggested to your heart, if it is sincere, +more than words could do. You will perhaps also see in your further +initiation a like method of enlightenment. Our Order imitates the +ancient societies that explained their teaching by hieroglyphics. A +hieroglyph," said the Rhetor, "is an emblem of something not +cognizable by the senses but which possesses qualities resembling +those of the symbol." + +Pierre knew very well what a hieroglyph was, but dared not speak. He +listened to the Rhetor in silence, feeling from all he said that his +ordeal was about to begin. + +"If you are resolved, I must begin your initiation," said the Rhetor +coming closer to Pierre. "In token of generosity I ask you to give +me all your valuables." + +"But I have nothing here," replied Pierre, supposing that he was +asked to give up all he possessed. + +"What you have with you: watch, money, rings...." + +Pierre quickly took out his purse and watch, but could not manage +for some time to get the wedding ring off his fat finger. When that +had been done, the Rhetor said: + +"In token of obedience, I ask you to undress." + +Pierre took off his coat, waistcoat, and left boot according to +the Rhetor's instructions. The Mason drew the shirt back from Pierre's +left breast, and stooping down pulled up the left leg of his +trousers to above the knee. Pierre hurriedly began taking off his +right boot also and was going to tuck up the other trouser leg to save +this stranger the trouble, but the Mason told him that was not +necessary and gave him a slipper for his left foot. With a childlike +smile of embarrassment, doubt, and self-derision, which appeared on +his face against his will, Pierre stood with his arms hanging down and +legs apart, before his brother Rhetor, and awaited his further +commands. + +"And now, in token of candor, I ask you to reveal to me your chief +passion," said the latter. + +"My passion! I have had so many," replied Pierre. + +"That passion which more than all others caused you to waver on +the path of virtue," said the Mason. + +Pierre paused, seeking a reply. + +"Wine? Gluttony? Idleness? Laziness? Irritability? Anger? Women?" He +went over his vices in his mind, not knowing to which of them to +give the pre-eminence. + +"Women," he said in a low, scarcely audible voice. + +The Mason did not move and for a long time said nothing after this +answer. At last he moved up to Pierre and, taking the kerchief that +lay on the table, again bound his eyes. + +"For the last time I say to you--turn all your attention upon +yourself, put a bridle on your senses, and seek blessedness, not in +passion but in your own heart. The source of blessedness is not +without us but within...." + +Pierre had already long been feeling in himself that refreshing +source of blessedness which now flooded his heart with glad emotion. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Soon after this there came into the dark chamber to fetch Pierre, +not the Rhetor but Pierre's sponsor, Willarski, whom he recognized +by his voice. To fresh questions as to the firmness of his +resolution Pierre replied: "Yes, yes, I agree," and with a beaming, +childlike smile, his fat chest uncovered, stepping unevenly and +timidly in one slippered and one booted foot, he advanced, while +Willarski held a sword to his bare chest. He was conducted from that +room along passages that turned backwards and forwards and was at last +brought to the doors of the Lodge. Willarski coughed, he was +answered by the Masonic knock with mallets, the doors opened before +them. A bass voice (Pierre was still blindfolded) questioned him as to +who he was, when and where he was born, and so on. Then he was again +led somewhere still blindfolded, and as they went along he was told +allegories of the toils of his pilgrimage, of holy friendship, of +the Eternal Architect of the universe, and of the courage with which +he should endure toils and dangers. During these wanderings, Pierre +noticed that he was spoken of now as the "Seeker," now as the +"Sufferer," and now as the "Postulant," to the accompaniment of +various knockings with mallets and swords. As he was being led up to +some object he noticed a hesitation and uncertainty among his +conductors. He heard those around him disputing in whispers and one of +them insisting that he should be led along a certain carpet. After +that they took his right hand, placed it on something, and told him to +hold a pair of compasses to his left breast with the other hand and to +repeat after someone who read aloud an oath of fidelity to the laws of +the Order. The candles were then extinguished and some spirit lighted, +as Pierre knew by the smell, and he was told that he would now see the +lesser light. The bandage was taken off his eyes and, by the faint +light of the burning spirit, Pierre, as in a dream, saw several men +standing before him, wearing aprons like the Rhetor's and holding +swords in their hands pointed at his breast. Among them stood a man +whose white shirt was stained with blood. On seeing this, Pierre moved +forward with his breast toward the swords, meaning them to pierce +it. But the swords were drawn back from him and he was at once +blindfolded again. + +"Now thou hast seen the lesser light," uttered a voice. Then the +candles were relit and he was told that he would see the full light; +the bandage was again removed and more than ten voices said +together: "Sic transit gloria mundi." + +Pierre gradually began to recover himself and looked about at the +room and at the people in it. Round a long table covered with black +sat some twelve men in garments like those he had already seen. Some +of them Pierre had met in Petersburg society. In the President's chair +sat a young man he did not know, with a peculiar cross hanging from +his neck. On his right sat the Italian abbe whom Pierre had met at +Anna Pavlovna's two years before. There were also present a very +distinguished dignitary and a Swiss who had formerly been tutor at the +Kuragins'. All maintained a solemn silence, listening to the words +of the President, who held a mallet in his hand. Let into the wall was +a star-shaped light. At one side of the table was a small carpet +with various figures worked upon it, at the other was something +resembling an altar on which lay a Testament and a skull. Round it +stood seven large candlesticks like those used in churches. Two of the +brothers led Pierre up to the altar, placed his feet at right +angles, and bade him lie down, saying that he must prostrate himself +at the Gates of the Temple. + +"He must first receive the trowel," whispered one of the brothers. + +"Oh, hush, please!" said another. + +Pierre, perplexed, looked round with his shortsighted eyes without +obeying, and suddenly doubts arose in his mind. "Where am I? What am I +doing? Aren't they laughing at me? Shan't I be ashamed to remember +this?" But these doubts only lasted a moment. Pierre glanced at the +serious faces of those around, remembered all he had already gone +through, and realized that he could not stop halfway. He was aghast at +his hesitation and, trying to arouse his former devotional feeling, +prostrated himself before the Gates of the Temple. And really, the +feeling of devotion returned to him even more strongly than before. +When he had lain there some time, he was told to get up, and a white +leather apron, such as the others wore, was put on him: he was given a +trowel and three pairs of gloves, and then the Grand Master +addressed him. He told him that he should try to do nothing to stain +the whiteness of that apron, which symbolized strength and purity; +then of the unexplained trowel, he told him to toil with it to cleanse +his own heart from vice, and indulgently to smooth with it the heart +of his neighbor. As to the first pair of gloves, a man's, he said that +Pierre could not know their meaning but must keep them. The second +pair of man's gloves he was to wear at the meetings, and finally of +the third, a pair of women's gloves, he said: "Dear brother, these +woman's gloves are intended for you too. Give them to the woman whom +you shall honor most of all. This gift will be a pledge of your purity +of heart to her whom you select to be your worthy helpmeet in +Masonry." And after a pause, he added: "But beware, dear brother, that +these gloves do not deck hands that are unclean." While the Grand +Master said these last words it seemed to Pierre that he grew +embarrassed. Pierre himself grew still more confused, blushed like a +child till tears came to his eyes, began looking about him uneasily, +and an awkward pause followed. + +This silence was broken by one of the brethren, who led Pierre up to +the rug and began reading to him from a manuscript book an explanation +of all the figures on it: the sun, the moon, a hammer, a plumb line, a +trowel, a rough stone and a squared stone, a pillar, three windows, +and so on. Then a place was assigned to Pierre, he was shown the signs +of the Lodge, told the password, and at last was permitted to sit +down. The Grand Master began reading the statutes. They were very +long, and Pierre, from joy, agitation, and embarrassment, was not in a +state to understand what was being read. He managed to follow only the +last words of the statutes and these remained in his mind. + +"In our temples we recognize no other distinctions," read the +Grand Master, "but those between virtue and vice. Beware of making any +distinctions which may infringe equality. Fly to a brother's aid +whoever he may be, exhort him who goeth astray, raise him that +falleth, never bear malice or enmity toward thy brother. Be kindly and +courteous. Kindle in all hearts the flame of virtue. Share thy +happiness with thy neighbor, and may envy never dim the purity of that +bliss. Forgive thy enemy, do not avenge thyself except by doing him +good. Thus fulfilling the highest law thou shalt regain traces of +the ancient dignity which thou hast lost." + +He finished and, getting up, embraced and kissed Pierre, who, with +tears of joy in his eyes, looked round him, not knowing how to +answer the congratulations and greetings from acquaintances that met +him on all sides. He acknowledged no acquaintances but saw in all +these men only brothers, and burned with impatience to set to work +with them. + +The Grand Master rapped with his mallet. All the Masons sat down +in their places, and one of them read an exhortation on the +necessity of humility. + +The Grand Master proposed that the last duty should be performed, +and the distinguished dignitary who bore the title of "Collector of +Alms" went round to all the brothers. Pierre would have liked to +subscribe all he had, but fearing that it might look like pride +subscribed the same amount as the others. + +The meeting was at an end, and on reaching home Pierre felt as if he +had returned from a long journey on which he had spent dozens of +years, had become completely changed, and had quite left behind his +former habits and way of life. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The day after he had been received into the Lodge, Pierre was +sitting at home reading a book and trying to fathom the significance +of the Square, one side of which symbolized God, another moral things, +a third physical things, and the fourth a combination of these. Now +and then his attention wandered from the book and the Square and he +formed in imagination a new plan of life. On the previous evening at +the Lodge, he had heard that a rumor of his duel had reached the +Emperor and that it would be wiser for him to leave Petersburg. Pierre +proposed going to his estates in the south and there attending to +the welfare of his serfs. He was joyfully planning this new life, when +Prince Vasili suddenly entered the room. + +"My dear fellow, what have you been up to in Moscow? Why have you +quarreled with Helene, mon cher? You are under a delusion," said +Prince Vasili, as he entered. "I know all about it, and I can tell you +positively that Helene is as innocent before you as Christ was +before the Jews." + +Pierre was about to reply, but Prince Vasili interrupted him. + +"And why didn't you simply come straight to me as to a friend? I +know all about it and understand it all," he said. "You behaved as +becomes a man who values his honor, perhaps too hastily, but we won't go +into that. But consider the position in which you are placing her +and me in the eyes of society, and even of the court," he added, +lowering his voice. "She is living in Moscow and you are here. +Remember, dear boy," and he drew Pierre's arm downwards, "it is simply +a misunderstanding. I expect you feel it so yourself. Let us write her +a letter at once, and she'll come here and all will be explained, or +else, my dear boy, let me tell you it's quite likely you'll have to +suffer for it." + +Prince Vasili gave Pierre a significant look. + +"I know from reliable sources that the Dowager Empress is taking a +keen interest in the whole affair. You know she is very gracious to +Helene." + +Pierre tried several times to speak, but, on one hand, Prince Vasili +did not let him and, on the other, Pierre himself feared to begin to +speak in the tone of decided refusal and disagreement in which he +had firmly resolved to answer his father-in-law. Moreover, the words +of the Masonic statutes, "be kindly and courteous," recurred to him. +He blinked, went red, got up and sat down again, struggling with +himself to do what was for him the most difficult thing in life--to +say an unpleasant thing to a man's face, to say what the other, +whoever he might be, did not expect. He was so used to submitting to +Prince Vasili's tone of careless self-assurance that he felt he +would be unable to withstand it now, but he also felt that on what +he said now his future depended--whether he would follow the same +old road, or that new path so attractively shown him by the Masons, on +which he firmly believed he would be reborn to a new life. + +"Now, dear boy," said Prince Vasili playfully, "say 'yes,' and +I'll write to her myself, and we will kill the fatted calf." + +But before Prince Vasili had finished his playful speech, Pierre, +without looking at him, and with a kind of fury that made him like his +father, muttered in a whisper: + +"Prince, I did not ask you here. Go, please go!" And he jumped up +and opened the door for him. + +"Go!" he repeated, amazed at himself and glad to see the look of +confusion and fear that showed itself on Prince Vasili's face. + +"What's the matter with you? Are you ill?" + +"Go!" the quivering voice repeated. And Prince Vasili had to go +without receiving any explanation. + +A week later, Pierre, having taken leave of his new friends, the +Masons, and leaving large sums of money with them for alms, went +away to his estates. His new brethren gave him letters to the Kiev and +Odessa Masons and promised to write to him and guide him in his new +activity. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The duel between Pierre and Dolokhov was hushed up and, in spite +of the Emperor's severity regarding duels at that time, neither the +principals nor their seconds suffered for it. But the story of the +duel, confirmed by Pierre's rupture with his wife, was the talk of +society. Pierre who had been regarded with patronizing condescension +when he was an illegitimate son, and petted and extolled when he was +the best match in Russia, had sunk greatly in the esteem of society +after his marriage--when the marriageable daughters and their +mothers had nothing to hope from him--especially as he did not know +how, and did not wish, to court society's favor. Now he alone was +blamed for what had happened, he was said to be insanely jealous and +subject like his father to fits of bloodthirsty rage. And when after +Pierre's departure Helene returned to Petersburg, she was received +by all her acquaintances not only cordially, but even with a shade +of deference due to her misfortune. When conversation turned on her +husband Helene assumed a dignified expression, which with +characteristic tact she had acquired though she did not understand its +significance. This expression suggested that she had resolved to +endure her troubles uncomplainingly and that her husband was a cross +laid upon her by God. Prince Vasili expressed his opinion more openly. +He shrugged his shoulders when Pierre was mentioned and, pointing to +his forehead, remarked: + +"A bit touched--I always said so." + +"I said from the first," declared Anna Pavlovna referring to Pierre, +"I said at the time and before anyone else" (she insisted on her +priority) "that that senseless young man was spoiled by the depraved +ideas of these days. I said so even at the time when everybody was +in raptures about him, when he had just returned from abroad, and +when, if you remember, he posed as a sort of Marat at one of my +soirees. And how has it ended? I was against this marriage even then +and foretold all that has happened." + +Anna Pavlovna continued to give on free evenings the same kind of +soirees as before--such as she alone had the gift of arranging--at +which was to be found "the cream of really good society, the bloom +of the intellectual essence of Petersburg," as she herself put it. +Besides this refined selection of society Anna Pavlovna's receptions +were also distinguished by the fact that she always presented some new +and interesting person to the visitors and that nowhere else was the +state of the political thermometer of legitimate Petersburg court +society so dearly and distinctly indicated. + +Toward the end of 1806, when all the sad details of Napoleon's +destruction of the Prussian army at Jena and Auerstadt and the +surrender of most of the Prussian fortresses had been received, when +our troops had already entered Prussia and our second war with +Napoleon was beginning, Anna Pavlovna gave one of her soirees. The +"cream of really good society" consisted of the fascinating Helene, +forsaken by her husband, Mortemart, the delightful Prince Hippolyte +who had just returned from Vienna, two diplomatists, the old aunt, a +young man referred to in that drawing room as "a man of great merit" +(un homme de beaucoup de merite), a newly appointed maid of honor +and her mother, and several other less noteworthy persons. + +The novelty Anna Pavlovna was setting before her guests that evening +was Boris Drubetskoy, who had just arrived as a special messenger from +the Prussian army and was aide-de-camp to a very important personage. + +The temperature shown by the political thermometer to the company +that evening was this: + +"Whatever the European sovereigns and commanders may do to +countenance Bonaparte, and to cause me, and us in general, annoyance +and mortification, our opinion of Bonaparte cannot alter. We shall not +cease to express our sincere views on that subject, and can only say +to the King of Prussia and others: 'So much the worse for you. Tu l'as +voulu, George Dandin,' that's all we have to say about it!" + +When Boris, who was to be served up to the guests, entered the +drawing room, almost all the company had assembled, and the +conversation, guided by Anna Pavlovna, was about our diplomatic +relations with Austria and the hope of an alliance with her. + +Boris, grown more manly and looking fresh, rosy and +self-possessed, entered the drawing room elegantly dressed in the +uniform of an aide-de-camp and was duly conducted to pay his +respects to the aunt and then brought back to the general circle. + +Anna Pavlovna gave him her shriveled hand to kiss and introduced him +to several persons whom he did not know, giving him a whispered +description of each. + +"Prince Hippolyte Kuragin, M. Krug, the charge d'affaires from +Copenhagen--a profound intellect," and simply, "Mr. Shitov--a +man of great merit"--this of the man usually so described. + +Thanks to Anna Mikhaylovna's efforts, his own tastes, and the +peculiarities of his reserved nature, Boris had managed during his +service to place himself very advantageously. He was aide-de-camp to a +very important personage, had been sent on a very important mission to +Prussia, and had just returned from there as a special messenger. He +had become thoroughly conversant with that unwritten code with which +he had been so pleased at Olmutz and according to which an ensign +might rank incomparably higher than a general, and according to +which what was needed for success in the service was not effort or +work, or courage, or perseverance, but only the knowledge of how to +get on with those who can grant rewards, and he was himself often +surprised at the rapidity of his success and at the inability of +others to understand these things. In consequence of this discovery +his whole manner of life, all his relations with old friends, all +his plans for his future, were completely altered. He was not rich, +but would spend his last groat to be better dressed than others, and +would rather deprive himself of many pleasures than allow himself to +be seen in a shabby equipage or appear in the streets of Petersburg in +an old uniform. He made friends with and sought the acquaintance of +only those above him in position and who could therefore be of use +to him. He liked Petersburg and despised Moscow. The remembrance of +the Rostovs' house and of his childish love for Natasha was unpleasant +to him and he had not once been to see the Rostovs since the day of +his departure for the army. To be in Anna Pavlovna's drawing room he +considered an important step up in the service, and he at once +understood his role, letting his hostess make use of whatever interest +he had to offer. He himself carefully scanned each face, appraising +the possibilities of establishing intimacy with each of those present, +and the advantages that might accrue. He took the seat indicated to +him beside the fair Helene and listened to the general conversation. + +"Vienna considers the bases of the proposed treaty so unattainable +that not even a continuity of most brilliant successes would secure +them, and she doubts the means we have of gaining them. That is the +actual phrase used by the Vienna cabinet," said the Danish charge +d'affaires. + +"The doubt is flattering," said "the man of profound intellect," +with a subtle smile. + +"We must distinguish between the Vienna cabinet and the Emperor of +Austria," said Mortemart. "The Emperor of Austria can never have +thought of such a thing, it is only the cabinet that says it." + +"Ah, my dear vicomte," put in Anna Pavlovna, "L'Urope" (for some +reason she called it Urope as if that were a specially refined +French pronunciation which she could allow herself when conversing +with a Frenchman), "L'Urope ne sera jamais notre alliee sincere."* + + +*"Europe will never be our sincere ally." + + +After that Anna Pavlovna led up to the courage and firmness of the +King of Prussia, in order to draw Boris into the conversation. + +Boris listened attentively to each of the speakers, awaiting his +turn, but managed meanwhile to look round repeatedly at his +neighbor, the beautiful Helene, whose eyes several times met those +of the handsome young aide-de-camp with a smile. + +Speaking of the position of Prussia, Anna Pavlovna very naturally +asked Boris to tell them about his journey to Glogau and in what state +he found the Prussian army. Boris, speaking with deliberation, told +them in pure, correct French many interesting details about the armies +and the court, carefully abstaining from expressing an opinion of +his own about the facts he was recounting. For some time he +engrossed the general attention, and Anna Pavlovna felt that the +novelty she had served up was received with pleasure by all her +visitors. The greatest attention of all to Boris' narrative was +shown by Helene. She asked him several questions about his journey and +seemed greatly interested in the state of the Prussian army. As soon +as he had finished she turned to him with her usual smile. + +"You absolutely must come and see me," she said in a tone that +implied that, for certain considerations he could not know of, this +was absolutely necessary. + +"On Tuesday between eight and nine. It will give me great pleasure." + +Boris promised to fulfill her wish and was about to begin a +conversation with her, when Anna Pavlovna called him away on the +pretext that her aunt wished to hear him. + +"You know her husband, of course?" said Anna Pavlovna, closing her +eyes and indicating Helene with a sorrowful gesture. "Ah, she is +such an unfortunate and charming woman! Don't mention him before +her--please don't! It is too painful for her!" + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +When Boris and Anna Pavlovna returned to the others Prince Hippolyte +had the ear of the company. + +Bending forward in his armchair he said: "Le Roi de Prusse!" and +having said this laughed. Everyone turned toward him. + +"Le Roi de Prusse?" Hippolyte said interrogatively, again +laughing, and then calmly and seriously sat back in his chair. Anna +Pavlovna waited for him to go on, but as he seemed quite decided to +say no more she began to tell of how at Potsdam the impious +Bonaparte had stolen the sword of Frederick the Great. + +"It is the sword of Frederick the Great which I..." she began, but +Hippolyte interrupted her with the words: "Le Roi de Prusse..." and +again, as soon as all turned toward him, excused himself and +said no more. + +Anna Pavlovna frowned. Mortemart, Hippolyte's friend, addressed +him firmly. + +"Come now, what about your Roi de Prusse?" + +Hippolyte laughed as if ashamed of laughing. + +"Oh, it's nothing. I only wished to say..." (he wanted to repeat a +joke he had heard in Vienna and which he had been trying all that +evening to get in) "I only wished to say that we are wrong to fight +pour le Roi de Prusse!" + +Boris smiled circumspectly, so that it might be taken as ironical or +appreciative according to the way the joke was received. Everybody +laughed. + +"Your joke is too bad, it's witty but unjust," said Anna Pavlovna, +shaking her little shriveled finger at him. + +"We are not fighting pour le Roi de Prusse, but for right +principles. Oh, that wicked Prince Hippolyte!" she said. + +The conversation did not flag all evening and turned chiefly on +the political news. It became particularly animated toward the end +of the evening when the rewards bestowed by the Emperor were +mentioned. + +"You know N-- N-- received a snuffbox with the portrait last +year?" said "the man of profound intellect." "Why shouldn't +S-- S-- get the same distinction?" + +"Pardon me! A snuffbox with the Emperor's portrait is a reward but +not a distinction," said the diplomatist--"a gift, rather." + +"There are precedents, I may mention Schwarzenberg." + +"It's impossible," replied another. + +"Will you bet? The ribbon of the order is a different matter...." + +When everybody rose to go, Helene who had spoken very little all the +evening again turned to Boris, asking him in a tone of caressing +significant command to come to her on Tuesday. + +"It is of great importance to me," she said, turning with a smile +toward Anna Pavlovna, and Anna Pavlovna, with the same sad smile +with which she spoke of her exalted patroness, supported Helene's +wish. + +It seemed as if from some words Boris had spoken that evening +about the Prussian army, Helene had suddenly found it necessary to see +him. She seemed to promise to explain that necessity to him when he +came on Tuesday. + +But on Tuesday evening, having come to Helene's splendid salon, +Boris received no clear explanation of why it had been necessary for +him to come. There were other guests and the countess talked little to +him, and only as he kissed her hand on taking leave said +unexpectedly and in a whisper, with a strangely unsmiling face: +"Come to dinner tomorrow... in the evening. You must come.... Come!" + +During that stay in Petersburg, Boris became an intimate in the +countess' house. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The war was flaming up and nearing the Russian frontier. +Everywhere one heard curses on Bonaparte, "the enemy of mankind." +Militiamen and recruits were being enrolled in the villages, and +from the seat of war came contradictory news, false as usual and +therefore variously interpreted. The life of old Prince Bolkonski, +Prince Andrew, and Princess Mary had greatly changed since 1805. + +In 1806 the old prince was made one of the eight commanders in chief +then appointed to supervise the enrollment decreed throughout +Russia. Despite the weakness of age, which had become particularly +noticeable since the time when he thought his son had been killed, +he did not think it right to refuse a duty to which he had been +appointed by the Emperor himself, and this fresh opportunity for +action gave him new energy and strength. He was continually +traveling through the three provinces entrusted to him, was pedantic +in the fulfillment of his duties, severe to cruelty with his +subordinates, and went into everything down to the minutest details +himself. Princess Mary had ceased taking lessons in mathematics from +her father, and when the old prince was at home went to his study with +the wet nurse and little Prince Nicholas (as his grandfather called +him). The baby Prince Nicholas lived with his wet nurse and nurse +Savishna in the late princess' rooms and Princess Mary spent most of +the day in the nursery, taking a mother's place to her little nephew +as best she could. Mademoiselle Bourienne, too, seemed passionately +fond of the boy, and Princess Mary often deprived herself to give +her friend the pleasure of dandling the little angel--as she called +her nephew--and playing with him. + +Near the altar of the church at Bald Hills there was a chapel over +the tomb of the little princess, and in this chapel was a marble +monument brought from Italy, representing an angel with outspread +wings ready to fly upwards. The angel's upper lip was slightly +raised as though about to smile, and once on coming out of the +chapel Prince Andrew and Princess Mary admitted to one another that +the angel's face reminded them strangely of the little princess. But +what was still stranger, though of this Prince Andrew said nothing +to his sister, was that in the expression the sculptor had happened to +give the angel's face, Prince Andrew read the same mild reproach he +had read on the face of his dead wife: "Ah, why have you done this +to me?" + +Soon after Prince Andrew's return the old prince made over to him +a large estate, Bogucharovo, about twenty-five miles from Bald +Hills. Partly because of the depressing memories associated with +Bald Hills, partly because Prince Andrew did not always feel equal +to bearing with his father's peculiarities, and partly because he +needed solitude, Prince Andrew made use of Bogucharovo, began building +and spent most of his time there. + +After the Austerlitz campaign Prince Andrew had firmly resolved +not to continue his military service, and when the war recommenced and +everybody had to serve, he took a post under his father in the +recruitment so as to avoid active service. The old prince and his +son seemed to have changed roles since the campaign of 1805. The old +man, roused by activity, expected the best results from the new +campaign, while Prince Andrew on the contrary, taking no part in the +war and secretly regretting this, saw only the dark side. + +On February 26, 1807, the old prince set off on one of his circuits. +Prince Andrew remained at Bald Hills as usual during his father's +absence. Little Nicholas had been unwell for four days. The coachman +who had driven the old prince to town returned bringing papers and +letters for Prince Andrew. + +Not finding the young prince in his study the valet went with the +letters to Princess Mary's apartments, but did not find him there. +He was told that the prince had gone to the nursery. + +"If you please, your excellency, Petrusha has brought some +papers," said one of the nursemaids to Prince Andrew who was sitting +on a child's little chair while, frowning and with trembling hands, he +poured drops from a medicine bottle into a wineglass half full of +water. + +"What is it?" he said crossly, and, his hand shaking +unintentionally, he poured too many drops into the glass. He threw the +mixture onto the floor and asked for some more water. The maid brought +it. + +There were in the room a child's cot, two boxes, two armchairs, a +table, a child's table, and the little chair on which Prince Andrew +was sitting. The curtains were drawn, and a single candle was +burning on the table, screened by a bound music book so that the light +did not fall on the cot. + +"My dear," said Princess Mary, addressing her brother from beside +the cot where she was standing, "better wait a bit... later..." + +"Oh, leave off, you always talk nonsense and keep putting things +off--and this is what comes of it!" said Prince Andrew in an +exasperated whisper, evidently meaning to wound his sister. + +"My dear, really... it's better not to wake him... he's asleep," +said the princess in a tone of entreaty. + +Prince Andrew got up and went on tiptoe up to the little bed, +wineglass in hand. + +"Perhaps we'd really better not wake him," he said hesitating. + +"As you please... really... I think so... but as you please," said +Princess Mary, evidently intimidated and confused that her opinion had +prevailed. She drew her brother's attention to the maid who was +calling him in a whisper. + +It was the second night that neither of them had slept, watching the +boy who was in a high fever. These last days, mistrusting their +household doctor and expecting another for whom they had sent to town, +they had been trying first one remedy and then another. Worn out by +sleeplessness and anxiety they threw their burden of sorrow on one +another and reproached and disputed with each other. + +"Petrusha has come with papers from your father," whispered the +maid. + +Prince Andrew went out. + +"Devil take them!" he muttered, and after listening to the verbal +instructions his father had sent and taking the correspondence and his +father's letter, he returned to the nursery. + +"Well?" he asked. + +"Still the same. Wait, for heaven's sake. Karl Ivanich always says +that sleep is more important than anything," whispered Princess Mary +with a sigh. + +Prince Andrew went up to the child and felt him. He was burning hot. + +"Confound you and your Karl Ivanich!" He took the glass with the +drops and again went up to the cot. + +"Andrew, don't!" said Princess Mary. + +But he scowled at her angrily though also with suffering in his +eyes, and stooped glass in hand over the infant. + +"But I wish it," he said. "I beg you--give it him!" + +Princess Mary shrugged her shoulders but took the glass submissively +and calling the nurse began giving the medicine. The child screamed +hoarsely. Prince Andrew winced and, clutching his head, went out and +sat down on a sofa in the next room. + +He still had all the letters in his hand. Opening them +mechanically he began reading. The old prince, now and then using +abbreviations, wrote in his large elongated hand on blue paper as +follows: + + +Have just this moment received by special messenger very joyful +news--if it's not false. Bennigsen seems to have obtained a complete +victory over Buonaparte at Eylau. In Petersburg everyone is rejoicing, +and the rewards sent to the army are innumerable. Though he is a +German--I congratulate him! I can't make out what the commander at +Korchevo--a certain Khandrikov--is up to; till now the additional +men and provisions have not arrived. Gallop off to him at once and say +I'll have his head off if everything is not here in a week. Have +received another letter about the Preussisch-Eylau battle from +Petenka--he took part in it--and it's all true. When mischief-makers +don't meddle even a German beats Buonaparte. He is said to be +fleeing in great disorder. Mind you gallop off to Korchevo without +delay and carry out instructions! + + +Prince Andrew sighed and broke the seal of another envelope. It +was a closely written letter of two sheets from Bilibin. He folded +it up without reading it and reread his father's letter, ending with +the words: "Gallop off to Korchevo and carry out instructions!" + +"No, pardon me, I won't go now till the child is better," thought +he, going to the door and looking into the nursery. + +Princess Mary was still standing by the cot, gently rocking the +baby. + +"Ah yes, and what else did he say that's unpleasant?" thought Prince +Andrew, recalling his father's letter. "Yes, we have gained a +victory over Bonaparte, just when I'm not serving. Yes, yes, he's +always poking fun at me.... Ah, well! Let him!" And he began reading +Bilibin's letter which was written in French. He read without +understanding half of it, read only to forget, if but for a moment, +what he had too long been thinking of so painfully to the exclusion of +all else. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Bilibin was now at army headquarters in a diplomatic capacity, and +though he wrote in French and used French jests and French idioms, +he described the whole campaign with a fearless self-censure and +self-derision genuinely Russian. Bilibin wrote that the obligation +of diplomatic discretion tormented him, and he was happy to have in +Prince Andrew a reliable correspondent to whom he could pour out the +bile he had accumulated at the sight of all that was being done in the +army. The letter was old, having been written before the battle at +Preussisch-Eylau. + +"Since the day of our brilliant success at Austerlitz," wrote +Bilibin, "as you know, my dear prince, I never leave headquarters. I +have certainly acquired a taste for war, and it is just as well for +me; what I have seen during these last three months is incredible. + +"I begin ab ovo. 'The enemy of the human race,' as you know, attacks +the Prussians. The Prussians are our faithful allies who have only +betrayed us three times in three years. We take up their cause, but it +turns out that 'the enemy of the human race' pays no heed to our +fine speeches and in his rude and savage way throws himself on the +Prussians without giving them time to finish the parade they had +begun, and in two twists of the hand he breaks them to smithereens and +installs himself in the palace at Potsdam. + +"'I most ardently desire,' writes the King of Prussia to +Bonaparte, 'that Your Majesty should be received and treated in my +palace in a manner agreeable to yourself, and in so far as +circumstances allowed, I have hastened to take all steps to that +end. May I have succeeded!' The Prussian generals pride themselves +on being polite to the French and lay down their arms at the first +demand. + +"The head of the garrison at Glogau, with ten thousand men, asks the +King of Prussia what he is to do if he is summoned to surrender.... +All this is absolutely true. + +"In short, hoping to settle matters by taking up a warlike attitude, +it turns out that we have landed ourselves in war, and what is more, +in war on our own frontiers, with and for the King of Prussia. We have +everything in perfect order, only one little thing is lacking, namely, +a commander in chief. As it was considered that the Austerlitz success +might have been more decisive had the commander in chief not been so +young, all our octogenarians were reviewed, and of Prozorovski and +Kamenski the latter was preferred. The general comes to us, +Suvorov-like, in a kibitka, and is received with acclamations of joy +and triumph. + +"On the 4th, the first courier arrives from Petersburg. The mails +are taken to the field marshal's room, for he likes to do everything +himself. I am called in to help sort the letters and take those +meant for us. The field marshal looks on and waits for letters +addressed to him. We search, but none are to be found. The field +marshal grows impatient and sets to work himself and finds letters +from the Emperor to Count T., Prince V., and others. Then he bursts +into one of his wild furies and rages at everyone and everything, +seizes the letters, opens them, and reads those from the Emperor +addressed to others. 'Ah! So that's the way they treat me! No +confidence in me! Ah, ordered to keep an eye on me! Very well then! +Get along with you!' So he writes the famous order of the day to +General Bennigsen: + +'I am wounded and cannot ride and consequently cannot command the +army. You have brought your army corps to Pultusk, routed: here it +is exposed, and without fuel or forage, so something must be done, +and, as you yourself reported to Count Buxhowden yesterday, you must +think of retreating to our frontier--which do today.' + +"'From all my riding,' he writes to the Emperor, 'I have got a +saddle sore which, coming after all my previous journeys, quite +prevents my riding and commanding so vast an army, so I have passed on +the command to the general next in seniority, Count Buxhowden, +having sent him my whole staff and all that belongs to it, advising +him if there is a lack of bread, to move farther into the interior +of Prussia, for only one day's ration of bread remains, and in some +regiments none at all, as reported by the division commanders, +Ostermann and Sedmoretzki, and all that the peasants had has been +eaten up. I myself will remain in hospital at Ostrolenka till I +recover. In regard to which I humbly submit my report, with the +information that if the army remains in its present bivouac another +fortnight there will not be a healthy man left in it by spring. + +"'Grant leave to retire to his country seat to an old man who is +already in any case dishonored by being unable to fulfill the great +and glorious task for which he was chosen. I shall await your most +gracious permission here in hospital, that I may not have to play +the part of a secretary rather than commander in the army. My +removal from the army does not produce the slightest stir--a blind man +has left it. There are thousands such as I in Russia.' + +"The field marshal is angry with the Emperor and he punishes us all, +isn't it logical? + +"This is the first act. Those that follow are naturally increasingly +interesting and entertaining. After the field marshal's departure it +appears that we are within sight of the enemy and must give battle. +Buxhowden is commander in chief by seniority, but General Bennigsen +does not quite see it; more particularly as it is he and his corps who +are within sight of the enemy and he wishes to profit by the +opportunity to fight a battle 'on his own hand' as the Germans say. He +does so. This is the battle of Pultusk, which is considered a great +victory but in my opinion was nothing of the kind. We civilians, as +you know, have a very bad way of deciding whether a battle was won or +lost. Those who retreat after a battle have lost it is what we say; +and according to that it is we who lost the battle of Pultusk. In +short, we retreat after the battle but send a courier to Petersburg +with news of a victory, and General Bennigsen, hoping to receive from +Petersburg the post of commander in chief as a reward for his victory, +does not give up the command of the army to General Buxhowden. During +this interregnum we begin a very original and interesting series of +maneuvers. Our aim is no longer, as it should be, to avoid or attack +the enemy, but solely to avoid General Buxhowden who by right of +seniority should be our chief. So energetically do we pursue this aim +that after crossing an unfordable river we burn the bridges to +separate ourselves from our enemy, who at the moment is not Bonaparte +but Buxhowden. General Buxhowden was all but attacked and captured by +a superior enemy force as a result of one of these maneuvers that +enabled us to escape him. Buxhowden pursues us--we scuttle. He hardly +crosses the river to our side before we recross to the other. At last +our enemy. Buxhowden, catches us and attacks. Both generals are angry, +and the result is a challenge on Buxhowden's part and an epileptic fit +on Bennigsen's. But at the critical moment the courier who carried the +news of our victory at Pultusk to Petersburg returns bringing our +appointment as commander in chief, and our first foe, Buxhowden, is +vanquished; we can now turn our thoughts to the second, Bonaparte. But +as it turns out, just at that moment a third enemy rises before +us--namely the Orthodox Russian soldiers, loudly demanding bread, +meat, biscuits, fodder, and whatnot! The stores are empty, the roads +impassable. The Orthodox begin looting, and in a way of which our last +campaign can give you no idea. Half the regiments form bands and scour +the countryside and put everything to fire and sword. The inhabitants +are totally ruined, the hospitals overflow with sick, and famine is +everywhere. Twice the marauders even attack our headquarters, and the +commander in chief has to ask for a battalion to disperse them. During +one of these attacks they carried off my empty portmanteau and my +dressing gown. The Emperor proposes to give all commanders of +divisions the right to shoot marauders, but I much fear this will +oblige one half the army to shoot the other." + +At first Prince Andrew read with his eyes only, but after a while, +in spite of himself (although he knew how far it was safe to trust +Bilibin), what he had read began to interest him more and more. When +he had read thus far, he crumpled the letter up and threw it away. +It was not what he had read that vexed him, but the fact that the life +out there in which he had now no part could perturb him. He shut his +eyes, rubbed his forehead as if to rid himself of all interest in what +he had read, and listened to what was passing in the nursery. Suddenly +he thought he heard a strange noise through the door. He was seized +with alarm lest something should have happened to the child while he +was reading the letter. He went on tiptoe to the nursery door and +opened it. + +Just as he went in he saw that the nurse was hiding something from +him with a scared look and that Princess Mary was no longer by the +cot. + +"My dear," he heard what seemed to him her despairing whisper behind +him. + +As often happens after long sleeplessness and long anxiety, he was +seized by an unreasoning panic--it occurred to him that the child +was dead. All that he saw and heard seemed to confirm this terror. + +"All is over," he thought, and a cold sweat broke out on his +forehead. He went to the cot in confusion, sure that he would find +it empty and that the nurse had been hiding the dead baby. He drew the +curtain aside and for some time his frightened, restless eyes could +not find the baby. At last he saw him: the rosy boy had tossed about +till he lay across the bed with his head lower than the pillow, and +was smacking his lips in his sleep and breathing evenly. + +Prince Andrew was as glad to find the boy like that, as if he had +already lost him. He bent over him and, as his sister had taught +him, tried with his lips whether the child was still feverish. The +soft forehead was moist. Prince Andrew touched the head with his hand; +even the hair was wet, so profusely had the child perspired. He was +not dead, but evidently the crisis was over and he was convalescent. +Prince Andrew longed to snatch up, to squeeze, to hold to his heart, +this helpless little creature, but dared not do so. He stood over him, +gazing at his head and at the little arms and legs which showed +under the blanket. He heard a rustle behind him and a shadow +appeared under the curtain of the cot. He did not look round, but +still gazing at the infant's face listened to his regular breathing. +The dark shadow was Princess Mary, who had come up to the cot with +noiseless steps, lifted the curtain, and dropped it again behind +her. Prince Andrew recognized her without looking and held out his +hand to her. She pressed it. + +"He has perspired," said Prince Andrew. + +"I was coming to tell you so." + +The child moved slightly in his sleep, smiled, and rubbed his +forehead against the pillow. + +Prince Andrew looked at his sister. In the dim shadow of the curtain +her luminous eyes shone more brightly than usual from the tears of joy +that were in them. She leaned over to her brother and kissed him, +slightly catching the curtain of the cot. Each made the other a +warning gesture and stood still in the dim light beneath the curtain +as if not wishing to leave that seclusion where they three were shut +off from all the world. Prince Andrew was the first to move away, +ruffling his hair against the muslin of the curtain. + +"Yes, this is the one thing left me now," he said with a sigh. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Soon after his admission to the Masonic Brotherhood, Pierre went +to the Kiev province, where he had the greatest number of serfs, +taking with him full directions which he had written down for his +own guidance as to what he should do on his estates. + +When he reached Kiev he sent for all his stewards to the head office +and explained to them his intentions and wishes. He told them that +steps would be taken immediately to free his serfs--and that till then +they were not to be overburdened with labor, women while nursing their +babies were not to be sent to work, assistance was to be given to +the serfs, punishments were to be admonitory and not corporal, and +hospitals, asylums, and schools were to be established on all the +estates. Some of the stewards (there were semiliterate foremen among +them) listened with alarm, supposing these words to mean that the +young count was displeased with their management and embezzlement of +money, some after their first fright were amused by Pierre's lisp +and the new words they had not heard before, others simply enjoyed +hearing how the master talked, while the cleverest among them, +including the chief steward, understood from this speech how they +could best handle the master for their own ends. + +The chief steward expressed great sympathy with Pierre's intentions, +but remarked that besides these changes it would be necessary to go +into the general state of affairs which was far from satisfactory. + +Despite Count Bezukhov's enormous wealth, since he had come into +an income which was said to amount to five hundred thousand rubles a +year, Pierre felt himself far poorer than when his father had made him +an allowance of ten thousand rubles. He had a dim perception of the +following budget: + +About 80,000 went in payments on all the estates to the Land Bank, +about 30,000 went for the upkeep of the estate near Moscow, the town +house, and the allowance to the three princesses; about 15,000 was +given in pensions and the same amount for asylums; 150,000 alimony was +sent to the countess; about 70,000 went for interest on debts. The +building of a new church, previously begun, had cost about 10,000 in +each of the last two years, and he did not know how the rest, about +100,000 rubles, was spent, and almost every year he was obliged to +borrow. Besides this the chief steward wrote every year telling him of +fires and bad harvests, or of the necessity of rebuilding factories +and workshops. So the first task Pierre had to face was one for +which he had very little aptitude or inclination--practical business. + +He discussed estate affairs every day with his chief steward. But he +felt that this did not forward matters at all. He felt that these +consultations were detached from real affairs and did not link up with +them or make them move. On the one hand, the chief steward put the +state of things to him in the very worst light, pointing out the +necessity of paying off the debts and undertaking new activities +with serf labor, to which Pierre did not agree. On the other hand, +Pierre demanded that steps should be taken to liberate the serfs, +which the steward met by showing the necessity of first paying off the +loans from the Land Bank, and the consequent impossibility of a speedy +emancipation. + +The steward did not say it was quite impossible, but suggested +selling the forests in the province of Kostroma, the land lower down +the river, and the Crimean estate, in order to make it possible: all +of which operations according to him were connected with such +complicated measures--the removal of injunctions, petitions, +permits, and so on--that Pierre became quite bewildered and only +replied: + +"Yes, yes, do so." + +Pierre had none of the practical persistence that would have enabled +him to attend to the business himself and so he disliked it and only +tried to pretend to the steward that he was attending to it. The +steward for his part tried to pretend to the count that he +considered these consultations very valuable for the proprietor and +troublesome to himself. + +In Kiev Pierre found some people he knew, and strangers hastened +to make his acquaintance and joyfully welcomed the rich newcomer, +the largest landowner of the province. Temptations to Pierre's +greatest weakness--the one to which he had confessed when admitted +to the Lodge--were so strong that he could not resist them. Again +whole days, weeks, and months of his life passed in as great a rush +and were as much occupied with evening parties, dinners, lunches, +and balls, giving him no time for reflection, as in Petersburg. +Instead of the new life he had hoped to lead he still lived the old +life, only in new surroundings. + +Of the three precepts of Freemasonry Pierre realized that he did not +fulfill the one which enjoined every Mason to set an example of moral +life, and that of the seven virtues he lacked two--morality and the +love of death. He consoled himself with the thought that he fulfilled +another of the precepts--that of reforming the human race--and had +other virtues--love of his neighbor, and especially generosity. + +In the spring of 1807 he decided to return to Petersburg. On the way +he intended to visit all his estates and see for himself how far his +orders had been carried out and in what state were the serfs whom +God had entrusted to his care and whom he intended to benefit. + +The chief steward, who considered the young count's attempts +almost insane--unprofitable to himself, to the count, and to the +serfs--made some concessions. Continuing to represent the liberation +of the serfs as impracticable, he arranged for the erection of large +buildings--schools, hospitals, and asylums--on all the estates +before the master arrived. Everywhere preparations were made not for +ceremonious welcomes (which he knew Pierre would not like), but for +just such gratefully religious ones, with offerings of icons and the +bread and salt of hospitality, as, according to his understanding of +his master, would touch and delude him. + +The southern spring, the comfortable rapid traveling in a Vienna +carriage, and the solitude of the road, all had a gladdening effect on +Pierre. The estates he had not before visited were each more +picturesque than the other; the serfs everywhere seemed thriving and +touchingly grateful for the benefits conferred on them. Everywhere +were receptions, which though they embarrassed Pierre awakened a +joyful feeling in the depth of his heart. In one place the peasants +presented him with bread and salt and an icon of Saint Peter and Saint +Paul, asking permission, as a mark of their gratitude for the benefits +he had conferred on them, to build a new chantry to the church at +their own expense in honor of Peter and Paul, his patron saints. In +another place the women with infants in arms met him to thank him +for releasing them from hard work. On a third estate the priest, +bearing a cross, came to meet him surrounded by children whom, by +the count's generosity, he was instructing in reading, writing, and +religion. On all his estates Pierre saw with his own eyes brick +buildings erected or in course of erection, all on one plan, for +hospitals, schools, and almshouses, which were soon to be opened. +Everywhere he saw the stewards' accounts, according to which the +serfs' manorial labor had been diminished, and heard the touching +thanks of deputations of serfs in their full-skirted blue coats. + +What Pierre did not know was that the place where they presented him +with bread and salt and wished to build a chantry in honor of Peter +and Paul was a market village where a fair was held on St. Peter's +day, and that the richest peasants (who formed the deputation) had +begun the chantry long before, but that nine tenths of the peasants in +that villages were in a state of the greatest poverty. He did not know +that since the nursing mothers were no longer sent to work on his +land, they did still harder work on their own land. He did not know +that the priest who met him with the cross oppressed the peasants by +his exactions, and that the pupils' parents wept at having to let +him take their children and secured their release by heavy payments. +He did not know that the brick buildings, built to plan, were being +built by serfs whose manorial labor was thus increased, though +lessened on paper. He did not know that where the steward had shown +him in the accounts that the serfs' payments had been diminished by +a third, their obligatory manorial work had been increased by a +half. And so Pierre was delighted with his visit to his estates and +quite recovered the philanthropic mood in which he had left +Petersburg, and wrote enthusiastic letters to his "brother-instructor" +as he called the Grand Master. + +"How easy it is, how little effort it needs, to do so much good," +thought Pierre, "and how little attention we pay to it!" + +He was pleased at the gratitude he received, but felt abashed at +receiving it. This gratitude reminded him of how much more he might do +for these simple, kindly people. + +The chief steward, a very stupid but cunning man who saw perfectly +through the naive and intelligent count and played with him as with +a toy, seeing the effect these prearranged receptions had on Pierre, +pressed him still harder with proofs of the impossibility and above +all the uselessness of freeing the serfs, who were quite happy as it +was. + +Pierre in his secret soul agreed with the steward that it would be +difficult to imagine happier people, and that God only knew what would +happen to them when they were free, but he insisted, though +reluctantly, on what he thought right. The steward promised to do +all in his power to carry out the count's wishes, seeing clearly +that not only would the count never be able to find out whether all +measures had been taken for the sale of the land and forests and to +release them from the Land Bank, but would probably never even inquire +and would never know that the newly erected buildings were standing +empty and that the serfs continued to give in money and work all +that other people's serfs gave--that is to say, all that could be +got out of them. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Returning from his journey through South Russia in the happiest +state of mind, Pierre carried out an intention he had long had of +visiting his friend Bolkonski, whom he had not seen for two years. + +Bogucharovo lay in a flat uninteresting part of the country among +fields and forests of fir and birch, which were partly cut down. The +house lay behind a newly dug pond filled with water to the brink and +with banks still bare of grass. It was at the end of a village that +stretched along the highroad in the midst of a young copse in which +were a few fir trees. + +The homestead consisted of a threshing floor, outhouses, stables, +a bathhouse, a lodge, and a large brick house with semicircular facade +still in course of construction. Round the house was a garden newly +laid out. The fences and gates were new and solid; two fire pumps +and a water cart, painted green, stood in a shed; the paths were +straight, the bridges were strong and had handrails. Everything bore +an impress of tidiness and good management. Some domestic serfs Pierre +met, in reply to inquiries as to where the prince lived, pointed out a +small newly built lodge close to the pond. Anton, a man who had looked +after Prince Andrew in his boyhood, helped Pierre out of his carriage, +said that the prince was at home, and showed him into a clean little +anteroom. + +Pierre was struck by the modesty of the small though clean house +after the brilliant surroundings in which he had last met his friend +in Petersburg. + +He quickly entered the small reception room with its +still-unplastered wooden walls redolent of pine, and would have gone +farther, but Anton ran ahead on tiptoe and knocked at a door. + +"Well, what is it?" came a sharp, unpleasant voice. + +"A visitor," answered Anton. + +"Ask him to wait," and the sound was heard of a chair being pushed +back. + +Pierre went with rapid steps to the door and suddenly came face to +face with Prince Andrew, who came out frowning and looking old. Pierre +embraced him and lifting his spectacles kissed his friend on the cheek +and looked at him closely. + +"Well, I did not expect you, I am very glad," said Prince Andrew. + +Pierre said nothing; he looked fixedly at his friend with +surprise. He was struck by the change in him. His words were kindly +and there was a smile on his lips and face, but his eyes were dull and +lifeless and in spite of his evident wish to do so he could not give +them a joyous and glad sparkle. Prince Andrew had grown thinner, +paler, and more manly-looking, but what amazed and estranged Pierre +till he got used to it were his inertia and a wrinkle on his brow +indicating prolonged concentration on some one thought. + +As is usually the case with people meeting after a prolonged +separation, it was long before their conversation could settle on +anything. They put questions and gave brief replies about things +they knew ought to be talked over at length. At last the +conversation gradually settled on some of the topics at first +lightly touched on: their past life, plans for the future, Pierre's +journeys and occupations, the war, and so on. The preoccupation and +despondency which Pierre had noticed in his friend's look was now +still more clearly expressed in the smile with which he listened to +Pierre, especially when he spoke with joyful animation of the past +or the future. It was as if Prince Andrew would have liked to +sympathize with what Pierre was saying, but could not. The latter +began to feel that it was in bad taste to speak of his enthusiasms, +dreams, and hopes of happiness or goodness, in Prince Andrew's +presence. He was ashamed to express his new Masonic views, which had +been particularly revived and strengthened by his late tour. He +checked himself, fearing to seem naive, yet he felt an irresistible +desire to show his friend as soon as possible that he was now a +quite different, and better, Pierre than he had been in Petersburg. + +"I can't tell you how much I have lived through since then. I hardly +know myself again." + +"Yes, we have altered much, very much, since then," said Prince +Andrew. + +"Well, and you? What are your plans?" + +"Plans!" repeated Prince Andrew ironically. "My plans?" he said, +as if astonished at the word. "Well, you see, I'm building. I mean +to settle here altogether next year...." + +Pierre looked silently and searchingly into Prince Andrew's face, +which had grown much older. + +"No, I meant to ask..." Pierre began, but Prince Andrew +interrupted him. + +"But why talk of me?... Talk to me, yes, tell me about your +travels and all you have been doing on your estates." + +Pierre began describing what he had done on his estates, trying as +far as possible to conceal his own part in the improvements that had +been made. Prince Andrew several times prompted Pierre's story of what +he had been doing, as though it were all an old-time story, and he +listened not only without interest but even as if ashamed of what +Pierre was telling him. + +Pierre felt uncomfortable and even depressed in his friend's company +and at last became silent. + +"I'll tell you what, my dear fellow," said Prince Andrew, who +evidently also felt depressed and constrained with his visitor, "I +am only bivouacking here and have just come to look round. I am +going back to my sister today. I will introduce you to her. But of +course you know her already," he said, evidently trying to entertain a +visitor with whom he now found nothing in common. "We will go after +dinner. And would you now like to look round my place?" + +They went out and walked about till dinnertime, talking of the +political news and common acquaintances like people who do not know +each other intimately. Prince Andrew spoke with some animation and +interest only of the new homestead he was constructing and its +buildings, but even here, while on the scaffolding, in the midst of +a talk explaining the future arrangements of the house, he interrupted +himself: + +"However, this is not at all interesting. Let us have dinner, and +then we'll set off." + +At dinner, conversation turned on Pierre's marriage. + +"I was very much surprised when I heard of it," said Prince Andrew. + +Pierre blushed, as he always did when it was mentioned, and said +hurriedly: "I will tell you some time how it all happened. But you +know it is all over, and forever." + +"Forever?" said Prince Andrew. "Nothing's forever." + +"But you know how it all ended, don't you? You heard of the duel?" + +"And so you had to go through that too!" + +"One thing I thank God for is that I did not kill that man," said +Pierre. + +"Why so?" asked Prince Andrew. "To kill a vicious dog is a very good +thing really." + +"No, to kill a man is bad--wrong." + +"Why is it wrong?" urged Prince Andrew. "It is not given to man to +know what is right and what is wrong. Men always did and always will +err, and in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong." + +"What does harm to another is wrong," said Pierre, feeling with +pleasure that for the first time since his arrival Prince Andrew was +roused, had begun to talk, and wanted to express what had brought +him to his present state. + +"And who has told you what is bad for another man?" he asked. + +"Bad! Bad!" exclaimed Pierre. "We all know what is bad for +ourselves." + +"Yes, we know that, but the harm I am conscious of in myself is +something I cannot inflict on others," said Prince Andrew, growing +more and more animated and evidently wishing to express his new +outlook to Pierre. He spoke in French. "I only know two very real +evils in life: remorse and illness. The only good is the absence of +those evils. To live for myself avoiding those two evils is my whole +philosophy now." + +"And love of one's neighbor, and self-sacrifice?" began Pierre. "No, +I can't agree with you! To live only so as not to do evil and not to +have to repent is not enough. I lived like that, I lived for myself +and ruined my life. And only now when I am living, or at least trying" +(Pierre's modesty made him correct himself) "to live for others, +only now have I understood all the happiness of life. No, I shall +not agree with you, and you do not really believe what you are +saying." Prince Andrew looked silently at Pierre with an ironic smile. + +"When you see my sister, Princess Mary, you'll get on with her," +he said. "Perhaps you are right for yourself," he added after a +short pause, "but everyone lives in his own way. You lived for +yourself and say you nearly ruined your life and only found +happiness when you began living for others. I experienced just the +reverse. I lived for glory.--And after all what is glory? The same +love of others, a desire to do something for them, a desire for +their approval.--So I lived for others, and not almost, but quite, +ruined my life. And I have become calmer since I began to live only +for myself." + +"But what do you mean by living only for yourself?" asked Pierre, +growing excited. "What about your son, your sister, and your father?" + +"But that's just the same as myself--they are not others," explained +Prince Andrew. "The others, one's neighbors, le prochain, as you and +Princess Mary call it, are the chief source of all error and evil. +Le prochain--your Kiev peasants to whom you want to do good." + +And he looked at Pierre with a mocking, challenging expression. He +evidently wished to draw him on. + +"You are joking," replied Pierre, growing more and more excited. +"What error or evil can there be in my wishing to do good, and even +doing a little--though I did very little and did it very badly? What +evil can there be in it if unfortunate people, our serfs, people +like ourselves, were growing up and dying with no idea of God and +truth beyond ceremonies and meaningless prayers and are now instructed +in a comforting belief in future life, retribution, recompense, and +consolation? What evil and error are there in it, if people were dying +of disease without help while material assistance could so easily be +rendered, and I supplied them with a doctor, a hospital, and an asylum +for the aged? And is it not a palpable, unquestionable good if a +peasant, or a woman with a baby, has no rest day or night and I give +them rest and leisure?" said Pierre, hurrying and lisping. "And I have +done that though badly and to a small extent; but I have done +something toward it and you cannot persuade me that it was not a +good action, and more than that, you can't make me believe that you do +not think so yourself. And the main thing is," he continued, "that I +know, and know for certain, that the enjoyment of doing this good is +the only sure happiness in life." + +"Yes, if you put it like that it's quite a different matter," said +Prince Andrew. "I build a house and lay out a garden, and you build +hospitals. The one and the other may serve as a pastime. But what's +right and what's good must be judged by one who knows all, but not +by us. Well, you want an argument," he added, "come on then." + +They rose from the table and sat down in the entrance porch which +served as a veranda. + +"Come, let's argue then," said Prince Andrew, "You talk of schools," +he went on, crooking a finger, "education and so forth; that is, you +want to raise him" (pointing to a peasant who passed by them taking +off his cap) "from his animal condition and awaken in him spiritual +needs, while it seems to me that animal happiness is the only +happiness possible, and that is just what you want to deprive him +of. I envy him, but you want to make him what I am, without giving him +my means. Then you say, 'lighten his toil.' But as I see it, +physical labor is as essential to him, as much a condition of his +existence, as mental activity is to you or me. You can't help +thinking. I go to bed after two in the morning, thoughts come and I +can't sleep but toss about till dawn, because I think and can't help +thinking, just as he can't help plowing and mowing; if he didn't, he +would go to the drink shop or fall ill. Just as I could not stand +his terrible physical labor but should die of it in a week, so he +could not stand my physical idleness, but would grow fat and die. +The third thing--what else was it you talked about?" and Prince Andrew +crooked a third finger. "Ah, yes, hospitals, medicine. He has a fit, +he is dying, and you come and bleed him and patch him up. He will drag +about as a cripple, a burden to everybody, for another ten years. It +would be far easier and simpler for him to die. Others are being +born and there are plenty of them as it is. It would be different if +you grudged losing a laborer--that's how I regard him--but you want to +cure him from love of him. And he does not want that. And besides, +what a notion that medicine ever cured anyone! Killed them, yes!" said +he, frowning angrily and turning away from Pierre. + +Prince Andrew expressed his ideas so clearly and distinctly that +it was evident he had reflected on this subject more than once, and he +spoke readily and rapidly like a man who has not talked for a long +time. His glance became more animated as his conclusions became more +hopeless. + +"Oh, that is dreadful, dreadful!" said Pierre. "I don't understand +how one can live with such ideas. I had such moments myself not long +ago, in Moscow and when traveling, but at such times I collapsed so +that I don't live at all--everything seems hateful to me... myself +most of all. Then I don't eat, don't wash... and how is it with +you?..." + +"Why not wash? That is not cleanly," said Prince Andrew; "on the +contrary one must try to make one's life as pleasant as possible. +I'm alive, that is not my fault, so I must live out my life as best +I can without hurting others." + +"But with such ideas what motive have you for living? One would +sit without moving, undertaking nothing...." + +"Life as it is leaves one no peace. I should be thankful to do +nothing, but here on the one hand the local nobility have done me +the honor to choose me to be their marshal; it was all I could do to +get out of it. They could not understand that I have not the necessary +qualifications for it--the kind of good-natured, fussy shallowness +necessary for the position. Then there's this house, which must be +built in order to have a nook of one's own in which to be quiet. And +now there's this recruiting." + +"Why aren't you serving in the army?" + +"After Austerlitz!" said Prince Andrew gloomily. "No, thank you very +much! I have promised myself not to serve again in the active +Russian army. And I won't--not even if Bonaparte were here at Smolensk +threatening Bald Hills--even then I wouldn't serve in the Russian +army! Well, as I was saying," he continued, recovering his +composure, "now there's this recruiting. My father is chief in command +of the Third District, and my only way of avoiding active service is +to serve under him." + +"Then you are serving?" + +"I am." + +He paused a little while. + +"And why do you serve?" + +"Why, for this reason! My father is one of the most remarkable men +of his time. But he is growing old, and though not exactly cruel he +has too energetic a character. He is so accustomed to unlimited +power that he is terrible, and now he has this authority of a +commander in chief of the recruiting, granted by the Emperor. If I had +been two hours late a fortnight ago he would have had a paymaster's +clerk at Yukhnovna hanged," said Prince Andrew with a smile. "So I +am serving because I alone have any influence with my father, and +now and then can save him from actions which would torment him +afterwards." + +"Well, there you see!" + +"Yes, but it is not as you imagine," Prince Andrew continued. "I did +not, and do not, in the least care about that scoundrel of a clerk who +had stolen some boots from the recruits; I should even have been +very glad to see him hanged, but I was sorry for my father--that again +is for myself." + +Prince Andrew grew more and more animated. His eyes glittered +feverishly while he tried to prove to Pierre that in his actions there +was no desire to do good to his neighbor. + +"There now, you wish to liberate your serfs," he continued; "that is +a very good thing, but not for you--I don't suppose you ever had +anyone flogged or sent to Siberia--and still less for your serfs. If +they are beaten, flogged, or sent to Siberia, I don't suppose they are +any the worse off. In Siberia they lead the same animal life, and +the stripes on their bodies heal, and they are happy as before. But it +is a good thing for proprietors who perish morally, bring remorse upon +themselves, stifle this remorse and grow callous, as a result of being +able to inflict punishments justly and unjustly. It is those people +I pity, and for their sake I should like to liberate the serfs. You +may not have seen, but I have seen, how good men brought up in those +traditions of unlimited power, in time when they grow more +irritable, become cruel and harsh, are conscious of it, but cannot +restrain themselves and grow more and more miserable." + +Prince Andrew spoke so earnestly that Pierre could not help thinking +that these thoughts had been suggested to Prince Andrew by his +father's case. + +He did not reply. + +"So that's what I'm sorry for--human dignity, peace of mind, purity, +and not the serfs' backs and foreheads, which, beat and shave as you +may, always remain the same backs and foreheads." + +"No, no! A thousand times no! I shall never agree with you," said +Pierre. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +In the evening Andrew and Pierre got into the open carriage and +drove to Bald Hills. Prince Andrew, glancing at Pierre, broke the +silence now and then with remarks which showed that he was in a good +temper. + +Pointing to the fields, he spoke of the improvements he was making +in his husbandry. + +Pierre remained gloomily silent, answering in monosyllables and +apparently immersed in his own thoughts. + +He was thinking that Prince Andrew was unhappy, had gone astray, did +not see the true light, and that he, Pierre, ought to aid, +enlighten, and raise him. But as soon as he thought of what he +should say, he felt that Prince Andrew with one word, one argument, +would upset all his teaching, and he shrank from beginning, afraid +of exposing to possible ridicule what to him was precious and sacred. + +"No, but why do you think so?" Pierre suddenly began, lowering his +head and looking like a bull about to charge, "why do you think so? +You should not think so." + +"Think? What about?" asked Prince Andrew with surprise. + +"About life, about man's destiny. It can't be so. I myself thought +like that, and do you know what saved me? Freemasonry! No, don't +smile. Freemasonry is not a religious ceremonial sect, as I thought it +was: Freemasonry is the best expression of the best, the eternal, +aspects of humanity." + +And he began to explain Freemasonry as he understood it to Prince +Andrew. He said that Freemasonry is the teaching of Christianity freed +from the bonds of State and Church, a teaching of equality, +brotherhood, and love. + +"Only our holy brotherhood has the real meaning of life, all the +rest is a dream," said Pierre. "Understand, my dear fellow, that +outside this union all is filled with deceit and falsehood and I agree +with you that nothing is left for an intelligent and good man but to +live out his life, like you, merely trying not to harm others. But +make our fundamental convictions your own, join our brotherhood, +give yourself up to us, let yourself be guided, and you will at once +feel yourself, as I have felt myself, a part of that vast invisible +chain the beginning of which is hidden in heaven," said Pierre. + +Prince Andrew, looking straight in front of him, listened in silence +to Pierre's words. More than once, when the noise of the wheels +prevented his catching what Pierre said, he asked him to repeat it, +and by the peculiar glow that came into Prince Andrew's eyes and by +his silence, Pierre saw that his words were not in vain and that +Prince Andrew would not interrupt him or laugh at what he said. + +They reached a river that had overflowed its banks and which they +had to cross by ferry. While the carriage and horses were being placed +on it, they also stepped on the raft. + +Prince Andrew, leaning his arms on the raft railing, gazed +silently at the flooding waters glittering in the setting sun. + +"Well, what do you think about it?" Pierre asked. "Why are you +silent?" + +"What do I think about it? I am listening to you. It's all very +well.... You say: join our brotherhood and we will show you the aim of +life, the destiny of man, and the laws which govern the world. But who +are we? Men. How is it you know everything? Why do I alone not see +what you see? You see a reign of goodness and truth on earth, but I +don't see it." + +Pierre interrupted him. + +"Do you believe in a future life?" he asked. + +"A future life?" Prince Andrew repeated, but Pierre, giving him no +time to reply, took the repetition for a denial, the more readily as +he knew Prince Andrew's former atheistic convictions. + +"You say you can't see a reign of goodness and truth on earth. Nor +could I, and it cannot be seen if one looks on our life here as the +end of everything. On earth, here on this earth" (Pierre pointed to +the fields), "there is no truth, all is false and evil; but in the +universe, in the whole universe there is a kingdom of truth, and we +who are now the children of earth are--eternally--children of the +whole universe. Don't I feel in my soul that I am part of this vast +harmonious whole? Don't I feel that I form one link, one step, between +the lower and higher beings, in this vast harmonious multitude of +beings in whom the Deity--the Supreme Power if you prefer the term--is +manifest? If I see, clearly see, that ladder leading from plant to +man, why should I suppose it breaks off at me and does not go +farther and farther? I feel that I cannot vanish, since nothing +vanishes in this world, but that I shall always exist and always +have existed. I feel that beyond me and above me there are spirits, +and that in this world there is truth." + +"Yes, that is Herder's theory," said Prince Andrew, "but it is not +that which can convince me, dear friend--life and death are what +convince. What convinces is when one sees a being dear to one, bound +up with one's own life, before whom one was to blame and had hoped +to make it right" (Prince Andrew's voice trembled and he turned away), +"and suddenly that being is seized with pain, suffers, and ceases to +exist.... Why? It cannot be that there is no answer. And I believe +there is.... That's what convinces, that is what has convinced me," +said Prince Andrew. + +"Yes, yes, of course," said Pierre, "isn't that what I'm saying?" + +"No. All I say is that it is not argument that convinces me of the +necessity of a future life, but this: when you go hand in hand with +someone and all at once that person vanishes there, into nowhere, +and you yourself are left facing that abyss, and look in. And I have +looked in...." + +"Well, that's it then! You know that there is a there and there is a +Someone? There is the future life. The Someone is--God." + +Prince Andrew did not reply. The carriage and horses had long +since been taken off, onto the farther bank, and reharnessed. The +sun had sunk half below the horizon and an evening frost was +starring the puddles near the ferry, but Pierre and Andrew, to the +astonishment of the footmen, coachmen, and ferrymen, still stood on +the raft and talked. + +"If there is a God and future life, there is truth and good, and +man's highest happiness consists in striving to attain them. We must +live, we must love, and we must believe that we live not only today on +this scrap of earth, but have lived and shall live forever, there, +in the Whole," said Pierre, and he pointed to the sky. + +Prince Andrew stood leaning on the railing of the raft listening +to Pierre, and he gazed with his eyes fixed on the red reflection of +the sun gleaming on the blue waters. There was perfect stillness. +Pierre became silent. The raft had long since stopped and only the +waves of the current beat softly against it below. Prince Andrew +felt as if the sound of the waves kept up a refrain to Pierre's words, +whispering: + +"It is true, believe it." + +He sighed, and glanced with a radiant, childlike, tender look at +Pierre's face, flushed and rapturous, but yet shy before his +superior friend. + +"Yes, if it only were so!" said Prince Andrew. "However, it is +time to get on," he added, and, stepping off the raft, he looked up at +the sky to which Pierre had pointed, and for the first time since +Austerlitz saw that high, everlasting sky he had seen while lying on +that battlefield; and something that had long been slumbering, +something that was best within him, suddenly awoke, joyful and +youthful, in his soul. It vanished as soon as he returned to the +customary conditions of his life, but he knew that this feeling +which he did not know how to develop existed within him. His meeting +with Pierre formed an epoch in Prince Andrew's life. Though +outwardly he continued to live in the same old way, inwardly he +began a new life. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +It was getting dusk when Prince Andrew and Pierre drove up to the +front entrance of the house at Bald Hills. As they approached the +house, Prince Andrew with a smile drew Pierre's attention to a +commotion going on at the back porch. A woman, bent with age, with a +wallet on her back, and a short, long-haired, young man in a black +garment had rushed back to the gate on seeing the carriage driving up. +Two women ran out after them, and all four, looking round at the +carriage, ran in dismay up the steps of the back porch. + +"Those are Mary's 'God's folk,'" said Prince Andrew. "They have +mistaken us for my father. This is the one matter in which she +disobeys him. He orders these pilgrims to be driven away, but she +receives them." + +"But what are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre. + +Prince Andrew had no time to answer. The servants came out to meet +them, and he asked where the old prince was and whether he was +expected back soon. + +The old prince had gone to the town and was expected back any +minute. + +Prince Andrew led Pierre to his own apartments, which were always +kept in perfect order and readiness for him in his father's house; +he himself went to the nursery. + +"Let us go and see my sister," he said to Pierre when he returned. +"I have not found her yet, she is hiding now, sitting with her +'God's folk.' It will serve her right, she will be confused, but you +will see her 'God's folk.' It's really very curious." + +"What are 'God's folk'?" asked Pierre. + +"Come, and you'll see for yourself." + +Princess Mary really was disconcerted and red patches came on her +face when they went in. In her snug room, with lamps burning before +the icon stand, a young lad with a long nose and long hair, wearing +a monk's cassock, sat on the sofa beside her, behind a samovar. Near +them, in an armchair, sat a thin, shriveled, old woman, with a meek +expression on her childlike face. + +"Andrew, why didn't you warn me?" said the princess, with mild +reproach, as she stood before her pilgrims like a hen before her +chickens. + +"Charmee de vous voir. Je suis tres contente de vous voir,"* she +said to Pierre as he kissed her hand. She had known him as a child, +and now his friendship with Andrew, his misfortune with his wife, +and above all his kindly, simple face disposed her favorably toward +him. She looked at him with her beautiful radiant eyes and seemed to +say, "I like you very much, but please don't laugh at my people." +After exchanging the first greetings, they sat down. + + +*"Delighted to see you. I am very glad to see you." + + +"Ah, and Ivanushka is here too!" said Prince Andrew, glancing with a +smile at the young pilgrim. + +"Andrew!" said Princess Mary, imploringly. "Il faut que vous sachiez +que c'est une femme,"* said Prince Andrew to Pierre. + +"Andrew, au nom de Dieu!"*[2] Princess Mary repeated. + + +*"You must know that this is a woman." + +*[2] "For heaven's sake." + + +It was evident that Prince Andrew's ironical tone toward the +pilgrims and Princess Mary's helpless attempts to protect them were +their customary long-established relations on the matter. + +"Mais, ma bonne amie," said Prince Andrew, "vous devriez au +contraire m'etre reconnaissante de ce que j'explique a Pierre votre +intimite avec ce jeune homme."* + + +*"But, my dear, you ought on the contrary to be grateful to me for +explaining to Pierre your intimacy with this young man." + + +"Really?" said Pierre, gazing over his spectacles with curiosity and +seriousness (for which Princess Mary was specially grateful to him) +into Ivanushka's face, who, seeing that she was being spoken about, +looked round at them all with crafty eyes. + +Princess Mary's embarrassment on her people's account was quite +unnecessary. They were not in the least abashed. The old woman, +lowering her eyes but casting side glances at the newcomers, had +turned her cup upside down and placed a nibbled bit of sugar beside +it, and sat quietly in her armchair, though hoping to be offered +another cup of tea. Ivanushka, sipping out of her saucer, looked +with sly womanish eyes from under her brows at the young men. + +"Where have you been? To Kiev?" Prince Andrew asked the old woman. + +"I have, good sir," she answered garrulously. "Just at Christmastime +I was deemed worthy to partake of the holy and heavenly sacrament at +the shrine of the saint. And now I'm from Kolyazin, master, where a +great and wonderful blessing has been revealed." + +"And was Ivanushka with you?" + +"I go by myself, benefactor," said Ivanushka, trying to speak in a +bass voice. "I only came across Pelageya in Yukhnovo..." + +Pelageya interrupted her companion; she evidently wished to tell +what she had seen. + +"In Kolyazin, master, a wonderful blessing has been revealed." + +"What is it? Some new relics?" asked Prince Andrew. + +"Andrew, do leave off," said Princess Mary. "Don't tell him, +Pelageya." + +"No... why not, my dear, why shouldn't I? I like him. He is kind, he +is one of God's chosen, he's a benefactor, he once gave me ten rubles, +I remember. When I was in Kiev, Crazy Cyril says to me (he's one of +God's own and goes barefoot summer and winter), he says, 'Why are +you not going to the right place? Go to Kolyazin where a +wonder-working icon of the Holy Mother of God has been revealed.' On +hearing those words I said good-by to the holy folk and went." + +All were silent, only the pilgrim woman went on in measured tones, +drawing in her breath. + +"So I come, master, and the people say to me: 'A great blessing +has been revealed, holy oil trickles from the cheeks of our blessed +Mother, the Holy Virgin Mother of God'...." + +"All right, all right, you can tell us afterwards," said Princess +Mary, flushing. + +"Let me ask her," said Pierre. "Did you see it yourselves?" he +inquired. + +"Oh, yes, master, I was found worthy. Such a brightness on the +face like the light of heaven, and from the blessed Mother's cheek +it drops and drops...." + +"But, dear me, that must be a fraud!" said Pierre, naively, who +had listened attentively to the pilgrim. + +"Oh, master, what are you saying?" exclaimed the horrified Pelageya, +turning to Princess Mary for support. + +"They impose on the people," he repeated. + +"Lord Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the pilgrim woman, crossing +herself. "Oh, don't speak so, master! There was a general who did +not believe, and said, 'The monks cheat,' and as soon as he'd said +it he went blind. And he dreamed that the Holy Virgin Mother of the +Kiev catacombs came to him and said, 'Believe in me and I will make +you whole.' So he begged: 'Take me to her, take me to her.' It's the +real truth I'm telling you, I saw it myself. So he was brought, +quite blind, straight to her, and he goes up to her and falls down and +says, 'Make me whole,' says he, 'and I'll give thee what the Tsar +bestowed on me.' I saw it myself, master, the star is fixed into the +icon. Well, and what do you think? He received his sight! It's a sin +to speak so. God will punish you," she said admonishingly, turning +to Pierre. + +"How did the star get into the icon?" Pierre asked. + +"And was the Holy Mother promoted to the rank of general?" said +Prince Andrew, with a smile. + +Pelageya suddenly grew quite pale and clasped her hands. + +"Oh, master, master, what a sin! And you who have a son!" she began, +her pallor suddenly turning to a vivid red. "Master, what have you +said? God forgive you!" And she crossed herself. "Lord forgive him! My +dear, what does it mean?..." she asked, turning to Princess Mary. +She got up and, almost crying, began to arrange her wallet. She +evidently felt frightened and ashamed to have accepted charity in a +house where such things could be said, and was at the same time +sorry to have now to forgo the charity of this house. + +"Now, why need you do it?" said Princess Mary. "Why did you come +to me?..." + +"Come, Pelageya, I was joking," said Pierre. "Princesse, ma +parole, je n'ai pas voulu l'offenser.* I did not mean anything, I +was only joking," he said, smiling shyly and trying to efface his +offense. "It was all my fault, and Andrew was only joking." + + +*"Princess, on my word, I did not wish to offend her." + + +Pelageya stopped doubtfully, but in Pierre's face there was such a +look of sincere penitence, and Prince Andrew glanced so meekly now +at her and now at Pierre, that she was gradually reassured. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +The pilgrim woman was appeased and, being encouraged to talk, gave a +long account of Father Amphilochus, who led so holy a life that his +hands smelled of incense, and how on her last visit to Kiev some monks +she knew let her have the keys of the catacombs, and how she, taking +some dried bread with her, had spent two days in the catacombs with +the saints. "I'd pray awhile to one, ponder awhile, then go on to +another. I'd sleep a bit and then again go and kiss the relics, and +there was such peace all around, such blessedness, that one don't want +to come out, even into the light of heaven again." + +Pierre listened to her attentively and seriously. Prince Andrew went +out of the room, and then, leaving "God's folk" to finish their tea, +Princess Mary took Pierre into the drawing room. + +"You are very kind," she said to him. + +"Oh, I really did not mean to hurt her feelings. I understand them +so well and have the greatest respect for them." + +Princess Mary looked at him silently and smiled affectionately. + +"I have known you a long time, you see, and am as fond of you as +of a brother," she said. "How do you find Andrew?" she added +hurriedly, not giving him time to reply to her affectionate words. +"I am very anxious about him. His health was better in the winter, but +last spring his wound reopened and the doctor said he ought to go away +for a cure. And I am also very much afraid for him spiritually. He has +not a character like us women who, when we suffer, can weep away our +sorrows. He keeps it all within him. Today he is cheerful and in +good spirits, but that is the effect of your visit--he is not often +like that. If you could persuade him to go abroad. He needs +activity, and this quiet regular life is very bad for him. Others +don't notice it, but I see it." + +Toward ten o'clock the men servants rushed to the front door, +hearing the bells of the old prince's carriage approaching. Prince +Andrew and Pierre also went out into the porch. + +"Who's that?" asked the old prince, noticing Pierre as he got out +of the carriage. + +"Ah! Very glad! Kiss me," he said, having learned who the young +stranger was. + +The old prince was in a good temper and very gracious to Pierre. + +Before supper, Prince Andrew, coming back to his father's study, +found him disputing hotly with his visitor. Pierre was maintaining +that a time would come when there would be no more wars. The old +prince disputed it chaffingly, but without getting angry. + +"Drain the blood from men's veins and put in water instead, then +there will be no more war! Old women's nonsense--old women's +nonsense!" he repeated, but still he patted Pierre affectionately on +the shoulder, and then went up to the table where Prince Andrew, +evidently not wishing to join in the conversation, was looking over +the papers his father had brought from town. The old prince went up to +him and began to talk business. + +"The marshal, a Count Rostov, hasn't sent half his contingent. He +came to town and wanted to invite me to dinner--I gave him a pretty +dinner!... And there, look at this.... Well, my boy," the old prince +went on, addressing his son and patting Pierre on the shoulder. "A +fine fellow--your friend--I like him! He stirs me up. Another says +clever things and one doesn't care to listen, but this one talks +rubbish yet stirs an old fellow up. Well, go! Get along! Perhaps +I'll come and sit with you at supper. We'll have another dispute. Make +friends with my little fool, Princess Mary," he shouted after +Pierre, through the door. + +Only now, on his visit to Bald Hills, did Pierre fully realize the +strength and charm of his friendship with Prince Andrew. That charm +was not expressed so much in his relations with him as with all his +family and with the household. With the stern old prince and the +gentle, timid Princess Mary, though he had scarcely known them, Pierre +at once felt like an old friend. They were all fond of him already. +Not only Princess Mary, who had been won by his gentleness with the +pilgrims, gave him her most radiant looks, but even the one-year-old +"Prince Nicholas" (as his grandfather called him) smiled at Pierre and +let himself be taken in his arms, and Michael Ivanovich and +Mademoiselle Bourienne looked at him with pleasant smiles when he +talked to the old prince. + +The old prince came in to supper; this was evidently on Pierre's +account. And during the two days of the young man's visit he was +extremely kind to him and told him to visit them again. + +When Pierre had gone and the members of the household met +together, they began to express their opinions of him as people always +do after a new acquaintance has left, but as seldom happens, no one +said anything but what was good of him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +When returning from his leave, Rostov felt, for the first time, how +close was the bond that united him to Denisov and the whole regiment. + +On approaching it, Rostov felt as he had done when approaching his +home in Moscow. When he saw the first hussar with the unbuttoned +uniform of his regiment, when he recognized red-haired Dementyev and +saw the picket ropes of the roan horses, when Lavrushka gleefully +shouted to his master, "The count has come!" and Denisov, who had been +asleep on his bed, ran all disheveled out of the mud hut to embrace +him, and the officers collected round to greet the new arrival, Rostov +experienced the same feeling as when his mother, his father, and his +sister had embraced him, and tears of joy choked him so that he could +not speak. The regiment was also a home, and as unalterably dear and +precious as his parents' house. + +When he had reported himself to the commander of the regiment and +had been reassigned to his former squadron, had been on duty and had +gone out foraging, when he had again entered into all the little +interests of the regiment and felt himself deprived of liberty and +bound in one narrow, unchanging frame, he experienced the same sense +of peace, of moral support, and the same sense of being at home here in +his own place, as he had felt under the parental roof. But here was +none of all that turmoil of the world at large, where he did not +know his right place and took mistaken decisions; here was no Sonya +with whom he ought, or ought not, to have an explanation; here was +no possibility of going there or not going there; here there were +not twenty-four hours in the day which could be spent in such a +variety of ways; there was not that innumerable crowd of people of +whom not one was nearer to him or farther from him than another; there +were none of those uncertain and undefined money relations with his +father, and nothing to recall that terrible loss to Dolokhov. Here, in +the regiment, all was clear and simple. The whole world was divided +into two unequal parts: one, our Pavlograd regiment; the other, all +the rest. And the rest was no concern of his. In the regiment, +everything was definite: who was lieutenant, who captain, who was a +good fellow, who a bad one, and most of all, who was a comrade. The +canteenkeeper gave one credit, one's pay came every four months, there +was nothing to think out or decide, you had only to do nothing that +was considered bad in the Pavlograd regiment and, when given an order, +to do what was clearly, distinctly, and definitely ordered--and all +would be well. + +Having once more entered into the definite conditions of this +regimental life, Rostov felt the joy and relief a tired man feels on +lying down to rest. Life in the regiment, during this campaign, was +all the pleasanter for him, because, after his loss to Dolokhov (for +which, in spite of all his family's efforts to console him, he could +not forgive himself), he had made up his mind to atone for his fault +by serving, not as he had done before, but really well, and by being a +perfectly first-rate comrade and officer--in a word, a splendid man +altogether, a thing which seemed so difficult out in the world, but so +possible in the regiment. + +After his losses, he had determined to pay back his debt to his +parents in five years. He received ten thousand rubles a year, but now +resolved to take only two thousand and leave the rest to repay the +debt to his parents. + +Our army, after repeated retreats and advances and battles at +Pultusk and Preussisch-Eylau, was concentrated near Bartenstein. It +was awaiting the Emperor's arrival and the beginning of a new +campaign. + +The Pavlograd regiment, belonging to that part of the army which had +served in the 1805 campaign, had been recruiting up to strength in +Russia, and arrived too late to take part in the first actions of +the campaign. It had been neither at Pultusk nor at Preussisch-Eylau +and, when it joined the army in the field in the second half of the +campaign, was attached to Platov's division. + +Platov's division was acting independently of the main army. Several +times parts of the Pavlograd regiment had exchanged shots with the +enemy, had taken prisoners, and once had even captured Marshal +Oudinot's carriages. In April the Pavlograds were stationed +immovably for some weeks near a totally ruined and deserted German +village. + +A thaw had set in, it was muddy and cold, the ice on the river +broke, and the roads became impassable. For days neither provisions +for the men nor fodder for the horses had been issued. As no +transports could arrive, the men dispersed about the abandoned and +deserted villages, searching for potatoes, but found few even of +these. + +Everything had been eaten up and the inhabitants had all fled--if +any remained, they were worse than beggars and nothing more could be +taken from them; even the soldiers, usually pitiless enough, instead +of taking anything from them, often gave them the last of their +rations. + +The Pavlograd regiment had had only two men wounded in action, but +had lost nearly half its men from hunger and sickness. In the +hospitals, death was so certain that soldiers suffering from fever, or +the swelling that came from bad food, preferred to remain on duty, and +hardly able to drag their legs went to the front rather than to the +hospitals. When spring came on, the soldiers found a plant just +showing out of the ground that looked like asparagus, which, for +some reason, they called "Mashka's sweet root." It was very bitter, +but they wandered about the fields seeking it and dug it out with +their sabers and ate it, though they were ordered not to do so, as +it was a noxious plant. That spring a new disease broke +out among the soldiers, a swelling of the arms, legs, and face, +which the doctors attributed to eating this root. But in spite of +all this, the soldiers of Denisov's squadron fed chiefly on +"Mashka's sweet root," because it was the second week that the last of +the biscuits were being doled out at the rate of half a pound a man +and the last potatoes received had sprouted and frozen. + +The horses also had been fed for a fortnight on straw from the +thatched roofs and had become terribly thin, though still covered with +tufts of felty winter hair. + +Despite this destitution, the soldiers and officers went on living +just as usual. Despite their pale swollen faces and tattered uniforms, +the hussars formed line for roll call, kept things in order, groomed +their horses, polished their arms, brought in straw from the +thatched roofs in place of fodder, and sat down to dine round the +caldrons from which they rose up hungry, joking about their nasty food +and their hunger. As usual, in their spare time, they lit bonfires, +steamed themselves before them naked; smoked, picked out and baked +sprouting rotten potatoes, told and listened to stories of +Potemkin's and Suvorov's campaigns, or to legends of Alesha the Sly, +or the priest's laborer Mikolka. + +The officers, as usual, lived in twos and threes in the roofless, +half-ruined houses. The seniors tried to collect straw and potatoes +and, in general, food for the men. The younger ones occupied +themselves as before, some playing cards (there was plenty of money, +though there was no food), some with more innocent games, such as +quoits and skittles. The general trend of the campaign was rarely +spoken of, partly because nothing certain was known about it, partly +because there was a vague feeling that in the main it was going badly. + +Rostov lived, as before, with Denisov, and since their furlough they +had become more friendly than ever. Denisov never spoke of Rostov's +family, but by the tender friendship his commander showed him, +Rostov felt that the elder hussar's luckless love for Natasha played a +part in strengthening their friendship. Denisov evidently tried to +expose Rostov to danger as seldom as possible, and after an action +greeted his safe return with evident joy. On one of his foraging +expeditions, in a deserted and ruined village to which he had come +in search of provisions, Rostov found a family consisting of an old +Pole and his daughter with an infant in arms. They were half clad, +hungry, too weak to get away on foot and had no means of obtaining a +conveyance. Rostov brought them to his quarters, placed them in his +own lodging, and kept them for some weeks while the old man was +recovering. One of his comrades, talking of women, began chaffing +Rostov, saying that he was more wily than any of them and that it +would not be a bad thing if he introduced to them the pretty Polish +girl he had saved. Rostov took the joke as an insult, flared up, and +said such unpleasant things to the officer that it was all Denisov +could do to prevent a duel. When the officer had gone away, Denisov, +who did not himself know what Rostov's relations with the Polish +girl might be, began to upbraid him for his quickness of temper, and +Rostov replied: + +"Say what you like.... She is like a sister to me, and I can't +tell you how it offended me... because... well, for that reason...." + +Denisov patted him on the shoulder and began rapidly pacing the room +without looking at Rostov, as was his way at moments of deep feeling. + +"Ah, what a mad bweed you Wostovs are!" he muttered, and Rostov +noticed tears in his eyes. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +In April the troops were enlivened by news of the Emperor's arrival, +but Rostov had no chance of being present at the review he held at +Bartenstein, as the Pavlograds were at the outposts far beyond that +place. + +They were bivouacking. Denisov and Rostov were living in an earth hut, +dug out for them by the soldiers and roofed with branches and turf. +The hut was made in the following manner, which had then come into +vogue. A trench was dug three and a half feet wide, four feet eight +inches deep, and eight feet long. At one end of the trench, steps were +cut out and these formed the entrance and vestibule. The trench itself +was the room, in which the lucky ones, such as the squadron commander, +had a board, lying on piles at the end opposite the entrance, to serve +as a table. On each side of the trench, the earth was cut out to a +breadth of about two and a half feet, and this did duty for bedsteads +and couches. The roof was so constructed that one could stand up in +the middle of the trench and could even sit up on the beds if one drew +close to the table. Denisov, who was living luxuriously because the +soldiers of his squadron liked him, had also a board in the roof at +the farther end, with a piece of (broken but mended) glass in it for a +window. When it was very cold, embers from the soldiers' campfire were +placed on a bent sheet of iron on the steps in the "reception +room"--as Denisov called that part of the hut--and it was then so warm +that the officers, of whom there were always some with Denisov and +Rostov, sat in their shirt sleeves. + +In April, Rostov was on orderly duty. One morning, between seven and +eight, returning after a sleepless night, he sent for embers, +changed his rain-soaked underclothes, said his prayers, drank tea, got +warm, then tidied up the things on the table and in his own corner, +and, his face glowing from exposure to the wind and with nothing on +but his shirt, lay down on his back, putting his arms under his +head. He was pleasantly considering the probability of being +promoted in a few days for his last reconnoitering expedition, and +was awaiting Denisov, who had gone out somewhere and with whom he +wanted a talk. + +Suddenly he heard Denisov shouting in a vibrating voice behind the +hut, evidently much excited. Rostov moved to the window to see whom he +was speaking to, and saw the quartermaster, Topcheenko. + +"I ordered you not to let them eat that Mashka woot stuff!" Denisov +was shouting. "And I saw with my own eyes how Lazarchuk bwought some +fwom the fields." + +"I have given the order again and again, your honor, but they +don't obey," answered the quartermaster. + +Rostov lay down again on his bed and thought complacently: "Let +him fuss and bustle now, my job's done and I'm lying down--capitally!" +He could hear that Lavrushka--that sly, bold orderly of Denisov's--was +talking, as well as the quartermaster. Lavrushka was saying +something about loaded wagons, biscuits, and oxen he had seen when +he had gone out for provisions. + +Then Denisov's voice was heard shouting farther and farther away. +"Saddle! Second platoon!" + +"Where are they off to now?" thought Rostov. + +Five minutes later, Denisov came into the hut, climbed with muddy +boots on the bed, lit his pipe, furiously scattered his things +about, took his leaded whip, buckled on his saber, and went out again. +In answer to Rostov's inquiry where he was going, he answered +vaguely and crossly that he had some business. + +"Let God and our gweat monarch judge me afterwards!" said Denisov +going out, and Rostov heard the hoofs of several horses splashing +through the mud. He did not even trouble to find out where Denisov had +gone. Having got warm in his corner, he fell asleep and did not +leave the hut till toward evening. Denisov had not yet returned. The +weather had cleared up, and near the next hut two officers and a cadet +were playing svayka, laughing as they threw their missiles which +buried themselves in the soft mud. Rostov joined them. In the middle +of the game, the officers saw some wagons approaching with fifteen +hussars on their skinny horses behind them. The wagons escorted by the +hussars drew up to the picket ropes and a crowd of hussars +surrounded them. + +"There now, Denisov has been worrying," said Rostov, "and here are +the provisions." + +"So they are!" said the officers. "Won't the soldiers be glad!" + +A little behind the hussars came Denisov, accompanied by two +infantry officers with whom he was talking. + +Rostov went to meet them. + +"I warn you, Captain," one of the officers, a short thin man, +evidently very angry, was saying. + +"Haven't I told you I won't give them up?" replied Denisov. + +"You will answer for it, Captain. It is mutiny--seizing the +transport of one's own army. Our men have had nothing to eat for two +days." + +"And mine have had nothing for two weeks," said Denisov. + +"It is robbery! You'll answer for it, sir!" said the infantry +officer, raising his voice. + +"Now, what are you pestewing me for?" cried Denisov, suddenly losing +his temper. "I shall answer for it and not you, and you'd better not +buzz about here till you get hurt. Be off! Go!" he shouted at the +officers. + +"Very well, then!" shouted the little officer, undaunted and not +riding away. "If you are determined to rob, I'll..." + +"Go to the devil! quick ma'ch, while you're safe and sound!" and +Denisov turned his horse on the officer. + +"Very well, very well!" muttered the officer, threateningly, and +turning his horse he trotted away, jolting in his saddle. + +"A dog astwide a fence! A weal dog astwide a fence!" shouted Denisov +after him (the most insulting expression a cavalryman can address to a +mounted infantryman) and riding up to Rostov, he burst out laughing. + +"I've taken twansports from the infantwy by force!" he said. +"After all, can't let our men starve." + +The wagons that had reached the hussars had been consigned to an +infantry regiment, but learning from Lavrushka that the transport +was unescorted, Denisov with his hussars had seized it by force. The +soldiers had biscuits dealt out to them freely, and they even shared +them with the other squadrons. + +The next day the regimental commander sent for Denisov, and +holding his fingers spread out before his eyes said: + +"This is how I look at this affair: I know nothing about it and +won't begin proceedings, but I advise you to ride over to the staff +and settle the business there in the commissariat department and if +possible sign a receipt for such and such stores received. If not, +as the demand was booked against an infantry regiment, there will be a +row and the affair may end badly." + +From the regimental commander's, Denisov rode straight to the +staff with a sincere desire to act on this advice. In the evening he +came back to his dugout in a state such as Rostov had never yet seen +him in. Denisov could not speak and gasped for breath. When Rostov +asked what was the matter, he only uttered some incoherent oaths and +threats in a hoarse, feeble voice. + +Alarmed at Denisov's condition, Rostov suggested that he should +undress, drink some water, and send for the doctor. + +"Twy me for wobbewy... oh! Some more water... Let them twy me, but +I'll always thwash scoundwels... and I'll tell the Empewo'... +Ice..." he muttered. + +The regimental doctor, when he came, said it was absolutely +necessary to bleed Denisov. A deep saucer of black blood was taken +from his hairy arm and only then was he able to relate what had +happened to him. + +"I get there," began Denisov. "'Now then, where's your chief's +quarters?' They were pointed out. 'Please to wait.' 'I've widden +twenty miles and have duties to attend to and no time to wait. +Announce me.' Vewy well, so out comes their head chief--also took it +into his head to lecture me: 'It's wobbewy!'--'Wobbewy,' I say, 'is +not done by man who seizes pwovisions to feed his soldiers, but by him +who takes them to fill his own pockets!' 'Will you please be silent?' +'Vewy good!' Then he says: 'Go and give a weceipt to the commissioner, +but your affair will be passed on to headquarters.' I go to the +commissioner. I enter, and at the table... who do you think? No, but +wait a bit!... Who is it that's starving us?" shouted Denisov, hitting +the table with the fist of his newly bled arm so violently that the +table nearly broke down and the tumblers on it jumped about. +"Telyanin! 'What? So it's you who's starving us to death! Is it? Take +this and this!' and I hit him so pat, stwaight on his snout... 'Ah, +what a... what a...!' and I sta'ted fwashing him... Well, I've had a +bit of fun I can tell you!" cried Denisov, gleeful and yet angry, his +white teeth showing under his black mustache. "I'd have killed him if +they hadn't taken him away!" + +"But what are you shouting for? Calm yourself," said Rostov. "You've +set your arm bleeding afresh. Wait, we must tie it up again." + +Denisov was bandaged up again and put to bed. Next day he woke +calm and cheerful. + +But at noon the adjutant of the regiment came into Rostov's and +Denisov's dugout with a grave and serious face and regretfully +showed them a paper addressed to Major Denisov from the regimental +commander in which inquiries were made about yesterday's occurrence. +The adjutant told them that the affair was likely to take a very bad +turn: that a court-martial had been appointed, and that in view of the +severity with which marauding and insubordination were now regarded, +degradation to the ranks would be the best that could be hoped for. + +The case, as represented by the offended parties, was that, after +seizing the transports, Major Denisov, being drunk, went to the +chief quartermaster and without any provocation called him a thief, +threatened to strike him, and on being led out had rushed into the +office and given two officials a thrashing, and dislocated the arm +of one of them. + +In answer to Rostov's renewed questions, Denisov said, laughing, +that he thought he remembered that some other fellow had got mixed +up in it, but that it was all nonsense and rubbish, and he did not +in the least fear any kind of trial, and that if those scoundrels +dared attack him he would give them an answer that they would not +easily forget. + +Denisov spoke contemptuously of the whole matter, but Rostov knew +him too well not to detect that (while hiding it from others) at heart +he feared a court-martial and was worried over the affair, which was +evidently taking a bad turn. Every day, letters of inquiry and notices +from the court arrived, and on the first of May, Denisov was ordered +to hand the squadron over to the next in seniority and appear before +the staff of his division to explain his violence at the +commissariat office. On the previous day Platov reconnoitered with two +Cossack regiments and two squadrons of hussars. Denisov, as was his +wont, rode out in front of the outposts, parading his courage. A +bullet fired by a French sharpshooter hit him in the fleshy part of +his leg. Perhaps at another time Denisov would not have left the +regiment for so slight a wound, but now he took advantage of it to +excuse himself from appearing at the staff and went into hospital. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +In June the battle of Friedland was fought, in which the +Pavlograds did not take part, and after that an armistice was +proclaimed. Rostov, who felt his friend's absence very much, having no +news of him since he left and feeling very anxious about his wound and +the progress of his affairs, took advantage of the armistice to get +leave to visit Denisov in hospital. + +The hospital was in a small Prussian town that had been twice +devastated by Russian and French troops. Because it was summer, when +it is so beautiful out in the fields, the little town presented a +particularly dismal appearance with its broken roofs and fences, its +foul streets, tattered inhabitants, and the sick and drunken +soldiers wandering about. + +The hospital was in a brick building with some of the window +frames and panes broken and a courtyard surrounded by the remains of a +wooden fence that had been pulled to pieces. Several bandaged +soldiers, with pale swollen faces, were sitting or walking about in +the sunshine in the yard. + +Directly Rostov entered the door he was enveloped by a smell of +putrefaction and hospital air. On the stairs he met a Russian army +doctor smoking a cigar. The doctor was followed by a Russian +assistant. + +"I can't tear myself to pieces," the doctor was saying. "Come to +Makar Alexeevich in the evening. I shall be there." + +The assistant asked some further questions. + +"Oh, do the best you can! Isn't it all the same?" The doctor noticed +Rostov coming upstairs. + +"What do you want, sir?" said the doctor. "What do you want? The +bullets having spared you, do you want to try typhus? This is a +pesthouse, sir." + +"How so?" asked Rostov. + +"Typhus, sir. It's death to go in. Only we two, Makeev and I" (he +pointed to the assistant), "keep on here. Some five of us doctors have +died in this place.... When a new one comes he is done for in a week," +said the doctor with evident satisfaction. "Prussian doctors have been +invited here, but our allies don't like it at all." + +Rostov explained that he wanted to see Major Denisov of the hussars, +who was wounded. + +"I don't know. I can't tell you, sir. Only think! I am alone in +charge of three hospitals with more than four hundred patients! It's +well that the charitable Prussian ladies send us two pounds of +coffee and some lint each month or we should be lost!" he laughed. +"Four hundred, sir, and they're always sending me fresh ones. There +are four hundred? Eh?" he asked, turning to the assistant. + +The assistant looked fagged out. He was evidently vexed and +impatient for the talkative doctor to go. + +"Major Denisov," Rostov said again. "He was wounded at Molliten." + +"Dead, I fancy. Eh, Makeev?" queried the doctor, in a tone of +indifference. + +The assistant, however, did not confirm the doctor's words. + +"Is he tall and with reddish hair?" asked the doctor. + +Rostov described Denisov's appearance. + +"There was one like that," said the doctor, as if pleased. "That one +is dead, I fancy. However, I'll look up our list. We had a list. +Have you got it, Makeev?" + +"Makar Alexeevich has the list," answered the assistant. "But if +you'll step into the officers' wards you'll see for yourself," he +added, turning to Rostov. + +"Ah, you'd better not go, sir," said the doctor, "or you may have to +stay here yourself." + +But Rostov bowed himself away from the doctor and asked the +assistant to show him the way. + +"Only don't blame me!" the doctor shouted up after him. + +Rostov and the assistant went into the dark corridor. The smell +was so strong there that Rostov held his nose and had to pause and +collect his strength before he could go on. A door opened to the +right, and an emaciated sallow man on crutches, barefoot and in +underclothing, limped out and, leaning against the doorpost, looked +with glittering envious eyes at those who were passing. Glancing in at +the door, Rostov saw that the sick and wounded were lying on the floor +on straw and overcoats. + +"May I go in and look?" + +"What is there to see?" said the assistant. + +But, just because the assistant evidently did not want him to go in, +Rostov entered the soldiers' ward. The foul air, to which he had +already begun to get used in the corridor, was still stronger here. It +was a little different, more pungent, and one felt that this was where +it originated. + +In the long room, brightly lit up by the sun through the large +windows, the sick and wounded lay in two rows with their heads to +the walls, and leaving a passage in the middle. Most of them were +unconscious and paid no attention to the newcomers. Those who were +conscious raised themselves or lifted their thin yellow faces, and all +looked intently at Rostov with the same expression of hope, of relief, +reproach, and envy of another's health. Rostov went to the middle of +the room and looking through the open doors into the two adjoining +rooms saw the same thing there. He stood still, looking silently +around. He had not at all expected such a sight. Just before him, +almost across the middle of the passage on the bare floor, lay a +sick man, probably a Cossack to judge by the cut of his hair. The +man lay on his back, his huge arms and legs outstretched. His face was +purple, his eyes were rolled back so that only the whites were seen, +and on his bare legs and arms which were still red, the veins stood +out like cords. He was knocking the back of his head against the +floor, hoarsely uttering some word which he kept repeating. Rostov +listened and made out the word. It was "drink, drink, a drink!" Rostov +glanced round, looking for someone who would put this man back in +his place and bring him water. + +"Who looks after the sick here?" he asked the assistant. + +Just then a commissariat soldier, a hospital orderly, came in from +the next room, marching stiffly, and drew up in front of Rostov. + +"Good day, your honor!" he shouted, rolling his eyes at Rostov and +evidently mistaking him for one of the hospital authorities. + +"Get him to his place and give him some water," said Rostov, +pointing to the Cossack. + +"Yes, your honor," the soldier replied complacently, and rolling his +eyes more than ever he drew himself up still straighter, but did not +move. + +"No, it's impossible to do anything here," thought Rostov, +lowering his eyes, and he was going out, but became aware of an +intense look fixed on him on his right, and he turned. Close to the +corner, on an overcoat, sat an old, unshaven, gray-bearded soldier +as thin as a skeleton, with a stern sallow face and eyes intently +fixed on Rostov. The man's neighbor on one side whispered something to +him, pointing at Rostov, who noticed that the old man wanted to +speak to him. He drew nearer and saw that the old man had only one leg +bent under him, the other had been amputated above the knee. His +neighbor on the other side, who lay motionless some distance from +him with his head thrown back, was a young soldier with a snub nose. +His pale waxen face was still freckled and his eyes were rolled +back. Rostov looked at the young soldier and a cold chill ran down his +back. + +"Why, this one seems..." he began, turning to the assistant. + +"And how we've been begging, your honor," said the old soldier, +his jaw quivering. "He's been dead since morning. After all we're men, +not dogs." + +"I'll send someone at once. He shall be taken away--taken away at +once," said the assistant hurriedly. "Let us go, your honor." + +"Yes, yes, let us go," said Rostov hastily, and lowering his eyes +and shrinking, he tried to pass unnoticed between the rows of +reproachful envious eyes that were fixed upon him, and went out of the +room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Going along the corridor, the assistant led Rostov to the +officers' wards, consisting of three rooms, the doors of which stood +open. There were beds in these rooms and the sick and wounded officers +were lying or sitting on them. Some were walking about the rooms in +hospital dressing gowns. The first person Rostov met in the +officers' ward was a thin little man with one arm, who was walking +about the first room in a nightcap and hospital dressing gown, with +a pipe between his teeth. Rostov looked at him, trying to remember +where he had seen him before. + +"See where we've met again!" said the little man. "Tushin, Tushin, +don't you remember, who gave you a lift at Schon Grabern? And I've had +a bit cut off, you see..." he went on with a smile, pointing to the +empty sleeve of his dressing gown. "Looking for Vasili Dmitrich +Denisov? My neighbor," he added, when he heard who Rostov wanted. +"Here, here," and Tushin led him into the next room, from whence +came sounds of several laughing voices. + +"How can they laugh, or even live at all here?" thought Rostov, +still aware of that smell of decomposing flesh that had been so strong +in the soldiers' ward, and still seeming to see fixed on him those +envious looks which had followed him out from both sides, and the face +of that young soldier with eyes rolled back. + +Denisov lay asleep on his bed with his head under the blanket, +though it was nearly noon. + +"Ah, Wostov? How are you, how are you?" he called out, still in +the same voice as in the regiment, but Rostov noticed sadly that under +this habitual ease and animation some new, sinister, hidden feeling +showed itself in the expression of Denisov's face and the +intonations of his voice. + +His wound, though a slight one, had not yet healed even now, six +weeks after he had been hit. His face had the same swollen pallor as +the faces of the other hospital patients, but it was not this that +struck Rostov. What struck him was that Denisov did not seem glad to +see him, and smiled at him unnaturally. He did not ask about the +regiment, nor about the general state of affairs, and when Rostov +spoke of these matters did not listen. + +Rostov even noticed that Denisov did not like to be reminded of the +regiment, or in general of that other free life which was going on +outside the hospital. He seemed to try to forget that old life and was +only interested in the affair with the commissariat officers. On +Rostov's inquiry as to how the matter stood, he at once produced from +under his pillow a paper he had received from the commission and the +rough draft of his answer to it. He became animated when he began +reading his paper and specially drew Rostov's attention to the +stinging rejoinders he made to his enemies. His hospital companions, +who had gathered round Rostov--a fresh arrival from the world +outside--gradually began to disperse as soon as Denisov began reading +his answer. Rostov noticed by their faces that all those gentlemen had +already heard that story more than once and were tired of it. Only the +man who had the next bed, a stout Uhlan, continued to sit on his bed, +gloomily frowning and smoking a pipe, and little one-armed Tushin +still listened, shaking his head disapprovingly. In the middle of the +reading, the Uhlan interrupted Denisov. + +"But what I say is," he said, turning to Rostov, "it would be best +simply to petition the Emperor for pardon. They say great rewards will +now be distributed, and surely a pardon would be granted...." + +"Me petition the Empewo'!" exclaimed Denisov, in a voice to which he +tried hard to give the old energy and fire, but which sounded like +an expression of irritable impotence. "What for? If I were a wobber +I would ask mercy, but I'm being court-martialed for bwinging +wobbers to book. Let them twy me, I'm not afwaid of anyone. I've +served the Tsar and my countwy honowably and have not stolen! And am I +to be degwaded?... Listen, I'm w'iting to them stwaight. This is +what I say: 'If I had wobbed the Tweasuwy...'" + +"It's certainly well written," said Tushin, "but that's not the +point, Vasili Dmitrich," and he also turned to Rostov. "One has to +submit, and Vasili Dmitrich doesn't want to. You know the auditor told +you it was a bad business." + +"Well, let it be bad," said Denisov. + +"The auditor wrote out a petition for you," continued Tushin, "and +you ought to sign it and ask this gentleman to take it. No doubt he" +(indicating Rostov) "has connections on the staff. You won't find a +better opportunity." + +"Haven't I said I'm not going to gwovel?" Denisov interrupted him, +went on reading his paper. + +Rostov had not the courage to persuade Denisov, though he +instinctively felt that the way advised by Tushin and the other +officers was the safest, and though he would have been glad to be of +service to Denisov. He knew his stubborn will and straightforward +hasty temper. + +When the reading of Denisov's virulent reply, which took more than an +hour, was over, Rostov said nothing, and he spent the rest of the day +in a most dejected state of mind amid Denisov's hospital comrades, who +had gathered round him, telling them what he knew and listening to +their stories. Denisov was moodily silent all the evening. + +Late in the evening, when Rostov was about to leave, he asked +Denisov whether he had no commission for him. + +"Yes, wait a bit," said Denisov, glancing round at the officers, and +taking his papers from under his pillow he went to the window, where +he had an inkpot, and sat down to write. + +"It seems it's no use knocking one's head against a wall!" he +said, coming from the window and giving Rostov a large envelope. In it +was the petition to the Emperor drawn up by the auditor, in which +Denisov, without alluding to the offenses of the commissariat +officials, simply asked for pardon. + +"Hand it in. It seems..." + +He did not finish, but gave a painfully unnatural smile. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Having returned to the regiment and told the commander the state +of Denisov's affairs, Rostov rode to Tilsit with the letter to the +Emperor. + +On the thirteenth of June the French and Russian Emperors arrived in +Tilsit. Boris Drubetskoy had asked the important personage on whom +he was in attendance, to include him in the suite appointed for the +stay at Tilsit. + +"I should like to see the great man," he said, alluding to Napoleon, +whom hitherto he, like everyone else, had always called Buonaparte. + +"You are speaking of Buonaparte?" asked the general, smiling. + +Boris looked at his general inquiringly and immediately saw that +he was being tested. + +"I am speaking, Prince, of the Emperor Napoleon," he replied. The +general patted him on the shoulder, with a smile. + +"You will go far," he said, and took him to Tilsit with him. + +Boris was among the few present at the Niemen on the day the two +Emperors met. He saw the raft, decorated with monograms, saw Napoleon +pass before the French Guards on the farther bank of the river, saw +the pensive face of the Emperor Alexander as he sat in silence in a +tavern on the bank of the Niemen awaiting Napoleon's arrival, saw both +Emperors get into boats, and saw how Napoleon--reaching the raft +first--stepped quickly forward to meet Alexander and held out his hand +to him, and how they both retired into the pavilion. Since he had +begun to move in the highest circles Boris had made it his habit to +watch attentively all that went on around him and to note it down. At +the time of the meeting at Tilsit he asked the names of those who had +come with Napoleon and about the uniforms they wore, and listened +attentively to words spoken by important personages. At the moment the +Emperors went into the pavilion he looked at his watch, and did not +forget to look at it again when Alexander came out. The interview had +lasted an hour and fifty-three minutes. He noted this down that same +evening, among other facts he felt to be of historic importance. As +the Emperor's suite was a very small one, it was a matter of great +importance, for a man who valued his success in the service, to be at +Tilsit on the occasion of this interview between the two Emperors, and +having succeeded in this, Boris felt that henceforth his position was +fully assured. He had not only become known, but people had grown +accustomed to him and accepted him. Twice he had executed commissions +to the Emperor himself, so that the latter knew his face, and all +those at court, far from cold-shouldering him as at first when they +considered him a newcomer, would now have been surprised had he been +absent. + +Boris lodged with another adjutant, the Polish Count Zhilinski. +Zhilinski, a Pole brought up in Paris, was rich, and passionately fond +of the French, and almost every day of the stay at Tilsit, French +officers of the Guard and from French headquarters were dining and +lunching with him and Boris. + +On the evening of the twenty-fourth of June, Count Zhilinski +arranged a supper for his French friends. The guest of honor was an +aide-de-camp of Napoleon's, there were also several French officers of +the Guard, and a page of Napoleon's, a young lad of an old +aristocratic French family. That same day, Rostov, profiting by the +darkness to avoid being recognized in civilian dress, came to Tilsit +and went to the lodging occupied by Boris and Zhilinski. + +Rostov, in common with the whole army from which he came, was far +from having experienced the change of feeling toward Napoleon and +the French--who from being foes had suddenly become friends--that +had taken place at headquarters and in Boris. In the army, Bonaparte +and the French were still regarded with mingled feelings of anger, +contempt, and fear. Only recently, talking with one of Platov's +Cossack officers, Rostov had argued that if Napoleon were taken +prisoner he would be treated not as a sovereign, but as a criminal. +Quite lately, happening to meet a wounded French colonel on the +road, Rostov had maintained with heat that peace was impossible +between a legitimate sovereign and the criminal Bonaparte. Rostov +was therefore unpleasantly struck by the presence of French officers +in Boris' lodging, dressed in uniforms he had been accustomed to see +from quite a different point of view from the outposts of the flank. +As soon as he noticed a French officer, who thrust his head out of the +door, that warlike feeling of hostility which he always experienced at +the sight of the enemy suddenly seized him. He stopped at the +threshold and asked in Russian whether Drubetskoy lived there. +Boris, hearing a strange voice in the anteroom, came out to meet +him. An expression of annoyance showed itself for a moment on his face +on first recognizing Rostov. + +"Ah, it's you? Very glad, very glad to see you," he said, however, +coming toward him with a smile. But Rostov had noticed his first +impulse. + +"I've come at a bad time I think. I should not have come, but I have +business," he said coldly. + +"No, I only wonder how you managed to get away from your regiment. +Dans un moment je suis a vous,"* he said, answering someone who called +him. + + +*"In a minute I shall be at your disposal." + + +"I see I'm intruding," Rostov repeated. + +The look of annoyance had already disappeared from Boris' face: +having evidently reflected and decided how to act, he very quietly +took both Rostov's hands and led him into the next room. His eyes, +looking serenely and steadily at Rostov, seemed to be veiled by +something, as if screened by blue spectacles of conventionality. So it +seemed to Rostov. + +"Oh, come now! As if you could come at a wrong time!" said Boris, +and he led him into the room where the supper table was laid and +introduced him to his guests, explaining that he was not a civilian, +but an hussar officer, and an old friend of his. + +"Count Zhilinski--le Comte N. N.--le Capitaine S. S.," said he, +naming his guests. Rostov looked frowningly at the Frenchmen, bowed +reluctantly, and remained silent. + +Zhilinski evidently did not receive this new Russian person very +willingly into his circle and did not speak to Rostov. Boris did not +appear to notice the constraint the newcomer produced and, with the +same pleasant composure and the same veiled look in his eyes with +which he had met Rostov, tried to enliven the conversation. One of the +Frenchmen, with the politeness characteristic of his countrymen, +addressed the obstinately taciturn Rostov, saying that the latter +had probably come to Tilsit to see the Emperor. + +"No, I came on business," replied Rostov, briefly. + +Rostov had been out of humor from the moment he noticed the look +of dissatisfaction on Boris' face, and as always happens to those in a +bad humor, it seemed to him that everyone regarded him with aversion +and that he was in everybody's way. He really was in their way, for he +alone took no part in the conversation which again became general. The +looks the visitors cast on him seemed to say: "And what is he +sitting here for?" He rose and went up to Boris. + +"Anyhow, I'm in your way," he said in a low tone. "Come and talk +over my business and I'll go away." + +"Oh, no, not at all," said Boris. "But if you are tired, come and +lie down in my room and have a rest." + +"Yes, really..." + +They went into the little room where Boris slept. Rostov, without +sitting down, began at once, irritably (as if Boris were to blame in +some way) telling him about Denisov's affair, asking him whether, +through his general, he could and would intercede with the Emperor +on Denisov's behalf and get Denisov's petition handed in. When he +and Boris were alone, Rostov felt for the first time that he could not +look Boris in the face without a sense of awkwardness. Boris, with one +leg crossed over the other and stroking his left hand with the slender +fingers of his right, listened to Rostov as a general listens to the +report of a subordinate, now looking aside and now gazing straight +into Rostov's eyes with the same veiled look. Each time this +happened Rostov felt uncomfortable and cast down his eyes. + +"I have heard of such cases and know that His Majesty is very severe +in such affairs. I think it would be best not to bring it before the +Emperor, but to apply to the commander of the corps.... But in +general, I think..." + +"So you don't want to do anything? Well then, say so!" Rostov almost +shouted, not looking Boris in the face. + +Boris smiled. + +"On the contrary, I will do what I can. Only I thought..." + +At that moment Zhilinski's voice was heard calling Boris. + +"Well then, go, go, go..." said Rostov, and refusing supper and +remaining alone in the little room, he walked up and down for a long +time, hearing the lighthearted French conversation from the next room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Rostov had come to Tilsit the day least suitable for a petition on +Denisov's behalf. He could not himself go to the general in attendance +as he was in mufti and had come to Tilsit without permission to do so, +and Boris, even had he wished to, could not have done so on the +following day. On that day, June 27, the preliminaries of peace were +signed. The Emperors exchanged decorations: Alexander received the +Cross of the Legion of Honor and Napoleon the Order of St. Andrew of +the First Degree, and a dinner had been arranged for the evening, +given by a battalion of the French Guards to the Preobrazhensk +battalion. The Emperors were to be present at that banquet. + +Rostov felt so ill at ease and uncomfortable with Boris that, when +the latter looked in after supper, he pretended to be asleep, and +early next morning went away, avoiding Boris. In his civilian +clothes and a round hat, he wandered about the town, staring at the +French and their uniforms and at the streets and houses where the +Russian and French Emperors were staying. In a square he saw tables +being set up and preparations made for the dinner; he saw the +Russian and French colors draped from side to side of the streets, +with huge monograms A and N. In the windows of the houses also flags +and bunting were displayed. + +"Boris doesn't want to help me and I don't want to ask him. That's +settled," thought Nicholas. "All is over between us, but I won't leave +here without having done all I can for Denisov and certainly not +without getting his letter to the Emperor. The Emperor!... He is +here!" thought Rostov, who had unconsciously returned to the house +where Alexander lodged. + +Saddled horses were standing before the house and the suite were +assembling, evidently preparing for the Emperor to come out. + +"I may see him at any moment," thought Rostov. "If only I were to +hand the letter direct to him and tell him all... could they really +arrest me for my civilian clothes? Surely not! He would understand +on whose side justice lies. He understands everything, knows +everything. Who can be more just, more magnanimous than he? And even +if they did arrest me for being here, what would it matter?" thought +he, looking at an officer who was entering the house the Emperor +occupied. "After all, people do go in.... It's all nonsense! I'll go +in and hand the letter to the Emperor myself so much the worse for +Drubetskoy who drives me to it!" And suddenly with a determination +he himself did not expect, Rostov felt for the letter in his pocket +and went straight to the house. + +"No, I won't miss my opportunity now, as I did after Austerlitz," he +thought, expecting every moment to meet the monarch, and conscious +of the blood that rushed to his heart at the thought. "I will fall +at his feet and beseech him. He will lift me up, will listen, and will +even thank me. 'I am happy when I can do good, but to remedy injustice +is the greatest happiness,'" Rostov fancied the sovereign saying. +And passing people who looked after him with curiosity, he entered the +porch of the Emperor's house. + +A broad staircase led straight up from the entry, and to the right +he saw a closed door. Below, under the staircase, was a door leading +to the lower floor. + +"Whom do you want?" someone inquired. + +"To hand in a letter, a petition, to His Majesty," said Nicholas, +with a tremor in his voice. + +"A petition? This way, to the officer on duty" (he was +shown the door leading downstairs), "only it won't be accepted." + +On hearing this indifferent voice, Rostov grew frightened at what he +was doing; the thought of meeting the Emperor at any moment was so +fascinating and consequently so alarming that he was ready to run +away, but the official who had questioned him opened the door, and +Rostov entered. + +A short stout man of about thirty, in white breeches and high boots +and a batiste shirt that he had evidently only just put on, standing +in that room, and his valet was buttoning on to the back of his +breeches a new pair of handsome silk-embroidered braces that, for some +reason, attracted Rostov's attention. This man was speaking to someone +in the adjoining room. + +"A good figure and in her first bloom," he was saying, but on seeing +Rostov, he stopped short and frowned. + +"What is it? A petition?" + +"What is it?" asked the person in the other room. + +"Another petitioner," answered the man with the braces. + +"Tell him to come later. He'll be coming out directly, we must go." + +"Later... later! Tomorrow. It's too late..." + +Rostov turned and was about to go, but the man in the braces stopped +him. + +"Whom have you come from? Who are you?" + +"I come from Major Denisov," answered Rostov. + +"Are you an officer?" + +"Lieutenant Count Rostov." + +"What audacity! Hand it in through your commander. And go along with +you... go," and he continued to put on the uniform the valet handed +him. + +Rostov went back into the hall and noticed that in the porch there +were many officers and generals in full parade uniform, whom he had to +pass. + +Cursing his temerity, his heart sinking at the thought of finding +himself at any moment face to face with the Emperor and being put to +shame and arrested in his presence, fully alive now to the impropriety +of his conduct and repenting of it, Rostov, with downcast eyes, was +making his way out of the house through the brilliant suite when a +familiar voice called him and a hand detained him. + +"What are you doing here, sir, in civilian dress?" asked a deep +voice. + +It was a cavalry general who had obtained the Emperor's special +favor during this campaign, and who had formerly commanded the +division in which Rostov was serving. + +Rostov, in dismay, began justifying himself, but seeing the +kindly, jocular face of the general, he took him aside and in an +excited voice told him the whole affair, asking him to intercede for +Denisov, whom the general knew. Having heard Rostov to the end, the +general shook his head gravely. + +"I'm sorry, sorry for that fine fellow. Give me the letter." + +Hardly had Rostov handed him the letter and finished explaining +Denisov's case, when hasty steps and the jingling of spurs were +heard on the stairs, and the general, leaving him, went to the +porch. The gentlemen of the Emperor's suite ran down the stairs and +went to their horses. Hayne, the same groom who had been at +Austerlitz, led up the Emperor's horse, and the faint creak of a +footstep Rostov knew at once was heard on the stairs. Forgetting the +danger of being recognized, Rostov went close to the porch, together +with some inquisitive civilians, and again, after two years, saw those +features he adored: that same face and same look and step, and the +same union of majesty and mildness.... And the feeling of enthusiasm +and love for his sovereign rose again in Rostov's soul in all its +old force. In the uniform of the Preobrazhensk regiment--white +chamois-leather breeches and high boots--and wearing a star Rostov did +not know (it was that of the Legion d'honneur), the monarch came out +into the porch, putting on his gloves and carrying his hat under his +arm. He stopped and looked about him, brightening everything around by +his glance. He spoke a few words to some of the generals, and, +recognizing the former commander of Rostov's division, smiled and +beckoned to him. + +All the suite drew back and Rostov saw the general talking for +some time to the Emperor. + +The Emperor said a few words to him and took a step toward his +horse. Again the crowd of members of the suite and street gazers +(among whom was Rostov) moved nearer to the Emperor. Stopping beside +his horse, with his hand on the saddle, the Emperor turned to the +cavalry general and said in a loud voice, evidently wishing to be +heard by all: + +"I cannot do it, General. I cannot, because the law is stronger than +I," and he raised his foot to the stirrup. + +The general bowed his head respectfully, and the monarch mounted and +rode down the street at a gallop. Beside himself with enthusiasm, +Rostov ran after him with the crowd. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The Emperor rode to the square where, facing one another, a +battalion of the Preobrazhensk regiment stood on the right and a +battalion of the French Guards in their bearskin caps on the left. + +As the Tsar rode up to one flank of the battalions, which +presented arms, another group of horsemen galloped up to the +opposite flank, and at the head of them Rostov recognized Napoleon. It +could be no one else. He came at a gallop, wearing a small hat, a blue +uniform open over a white vest, and the St. Andrew ribbon over his +shoulder. He was riding a very fine thoroughbred gray Arab horse +with a crimson gold-embroidered saddlecloth. On approaching +Alexander he raised his hat, and as he did so, Rostov, with his +cavalryman's eye, could not help noticing that Napoleon did not sit +well or firmly in the saddle. The battalions shouted "Hurrah!" and +"Vive l'Empereur!" Napoleon said something to Alexander, and both +Emperors dismounted and took each other's hands. Napoleon's face +wore an unpleasant and artificial smile. Alexander was saying +something affable to him. + +In spite of the trampling of the French gendarmes' horses, which +were pushing back the crowd, Rostov kept his eyes on every movement of +Alexander and Bonaparte. It struck him as a surprise that Alexander +treated Bonaparte as an equal and that the latter was quite at ease +with the Tsar, as if such relations with an Emperor were an everyday +matter to him. + +Alexander and Napoleon, with the long train of their suites, +approached the right flank of the Preobrazhensk battalion and came +straight up to the crowd standing there. The crowd unexpectedly +found itself so close to the Emperors that Rostov, standing in the +front row, was afraid he might be recognized. + +"Sire, I ask your permission to present the Legion of Honor to the +bravest of your soldiers," said a sharp, precise voice, articulating +every letter. + +This was said by the undersized Napoleon, looking up straight into +Alexander's eyes. Alexander listened attentively to what was said to +him and, bending his head, smiled pleasantly. + +"To him who has borne himself most bravely in this last war," +added Napoleon, accentuating each syllable, as with a composure and +assurance exasperating to Rostov, he ran his eyes over the Russian +ranks drawn up before him, who all presented arms with their eyes +fixed on their Emperor. + +"Will Your Majesty allow me to consult the colonel?" said +Alexander and took a few hasty steps toward Prince Kozlovski, the +commander of the battalion. + +Bonaparte meanwhile began taking the glove off his small white hand, +tore it in doing so, and threw it away. An aide-de-camp behind him +rushed forward and picked it up. + +"To whom shall it be given?" the Emperor Alexander asked +Koslovski, in Russian in a low voice. + +"To whomever Your Majesty commands." + +The Emperor knit his brows with dissatisfaction and, glancing +back, remarked: + +"But we must give him an answer." + +Kozlovski scanned the ranks resolutely and included Rostov in his +scrutiny. + +"Can it be me?" thought Rostov. + +"Lazarev!" the colonel called, with a frown, and Lazarev, the +first soldier in the rank, stepped briskly forward. + +"Where are you off to? Stop here!" voices whispered to Lazarev who +did not know where to go. Lazarev stopped, casting a sidelong look +at his colonel in alarm. His face twitched, as often happens to +soldiers called before the ranks. + +Napoleon slightly turned his head, and put his plump little hand out +behind him as if to take something. The members of his suite, guessing +at once what he wanted, moved about and whispered as they passed +something from one to another, and a page--the same one Rostov had +seen the previous evening at Boris'--ran forward and, bowing +respectfully over the outstretched hand and not keeping it waiting a +moment, laid in it an Order on a red ribbon. Napoleon, without +looking, pressed two fingers together and the badge was between +them. Then he approached Lazarev (who rolled his eyes and persistently +gazed at his own monarch), looked round at the Emperor Alexander to +imply that what he was now doing was done for the sake of his ally, +and the small white hand holding the Order touched one of Lazarev's +buttons. It was as if Napoleon knew that it was only necessary for his +hand to deign to touch that soldier's breast for the soldier to be +forever happy, rewarded, and distinguished from everyone else in the +world. Napoleon merely laid the cross on Lazarev's breast and, +dropping his hand, turned toward Alexander as though sure that the +cross would adhere there. And it really did. + +Officious hands, Russian and French, immediately seized the cross +and fastened it to the uniform. Lazarev glanced morosely at the little +man with white hands who was doing something to him and, still +standing motionless presenting arms, looked again straight into +Alexander's eyes, as if asking whether he should stand there, or go +away, or do something else. But receiving no orders, he remained for +some time in that rigid position. + +The Emperors remounted and rode away. The Preobrazhensk battalion, +breaking rank, mingled with the French Guards and sat down at the +tables prepared for them. + +Lazarev sat in the place of honor. Russian and French officers +embraced him, congratulated him, and pressed his hands. Crowds of +officers and civilians drew near merely to see him. A rumble of +Russian and French voices and laughter filled the air round the tables +in the square. Two officers with flushed faces, looking cheerful and +happy, passed by Rostov. + +"What d'you think of the treat? All on silver plate," one of them +was saying. "Have you seen Lazarev?" + +"I have." + +"Tomorrow, I hear, the Preobrazhenskis will give them a dinner." + +"Yes, but what luck for Lazarev! Twelve hundred francs' pension +for life." + +"Here's a cap, lads!" shouted a Preobrazhensk soldier, donning a +shaggy French cap. + +"It's a fine thing! First-rate!" + +"Have you heard the password?" asked one Guards' officer of another. +"The day before yesterday it was 'Napoleon, France, bravoure'; +yesterday, 'Alexandre, Russie, grandeur.' One day our Emperor gives it +and next day Napoleon. Tomorrow our Emperor will send a St. George's +Cross to the bravest of the French Guards. It has to be done. He +must respond in kind." + +Boris, too, with his friend Zhilinski, came to see the Preobrazhensk +banquet. On his way back, he noticed Rostov standing by the corner +of a house. + +"Rostov! How d'you do? We missed one another," he said, and could +not refrain from asking what was the matter, so strangely dismal and +troubled was Rostov's face. + +"Nothing, nothing," replied Rostov. + +"You'll call round?" + +"Yes, I will." + +Rostov stood at that corner for a long time, watching the feast from +a distance. In his mind, a painful process was going on +which he could not bring to a conclusion. Terrible doubts rose in +his soul. Now he remembered Denisov with his changed expression, his +submission, and the whole hospital, with arms and legs torn off and +its dirt and disease. So vividly did he recall that hospital stench of +dead flesh that he looked round to see where the smell came from. Next +he thought of that self-satisfied Bonaparte, with his small white +hand, who was now an Emperor, liked and respected by Alexander. Then +why those severed arms and legs and those dead men?... Then again he +thought of Lazarev rewarded and Denisov punished and unpardoned. He +caught himself harboring such strange thoughts that he was frightened. + +The smell of the food the Preobrazhenskis were eating and a sense of +hunger recalled him from these reflections; he had to get something to +eat before going away. He went to a hotel he had noticed that morning. +There he found so many people, among them officers who, like +himself, had come in civilian clothes, that he had difficulty in +getting a dinner. Two officers of his own division joined him. The +conversation naturally turned on the peace. The officers, his +comrades, like most of the army, were dissatisfied with the peace +concluded after the battle of Friedland. They said that had we held +out a little longer Napoleon would have been done for, as his troops +had neither provisions nor ammunition. Nicholas ate and drank (chiefly +the latter) in silence. He finished a couple of bottles of wine by +himself. The process in his mind went on tormenting him without +reaching a conclusion. He feared to give way to his thoughts, yet +could not get rid of them. Suddenly, on one of the officers' saying +that it was humiliating to look at the French, Rostov began shouting +with uncalled-for wrath, and therefore much to the surprise of the +officers: + +"How can you judge what's best?" he cried, the blood suddenly rushing +to his face. "How can you judge the Emperor's actions? What right have +we to argue? We cannot comprehend either the Emperor's aims or his +actions!" + +"But I never said a word about the Emperor!" said the officer, +justifying himself, and unable to understand Rostov's outburst, except +on the supposition that he was drunk. + +But Rostov did not listen to him. + +"We are not diplomatic officials, we are soldiers and nothing more," +he went on. "If we are ordered to die, we must die. If we're punished, +it means that we have deserved it, it's not for us to judge. If the +Emperor pleases to recognize Bonaparte as Emperor and to conclude an +alliance with him, it means that that is the right thing to do. If +once we begin judging and arguing about everything, nothing sacred +will be left! That way we shall be saying there is no God--nothing!" +shouted Nicholas, banging the table--very little to the point as it +seemed to his listeners, but quite relevantly to the course of his own +thoughts. + +"Our business is to do our duty, to fight and not to think! That's +all...." said he. + +"And to drink," said one of the officers, not wishing to quarrel. + +"Yes, and to drink," assented Nicholas. "Hullo there! Another +bottle!" he shouted. + +In 1808 the Emperor Alexander went to Erfurt for a fresh interview +with the Emperor Napoleon, and in the upper circles of Petersburg +there was much talk of the grandeur of this important meeting. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +In 1809 the intimacy between "the world's two arbiters," as Napoleon +and Alexander were called, was such that when Napoleon declared war on +Austria a Russian corps crossed the frontier to co-operate with our +old enemy Bonaparte against our old ally the Emperor of Austria, and +in court circles the possibility of marriage between Napoleon and +one of Alexander's sisters was spoken of. But besides considerations +of foreign policy, the attention of Russian society was at that time +keenly directed on the internal changes that were being undertaken +in all the departments of government. + +Life meanwhile--real life, with its essential interests of health +and sickness, toil and rest, and its intellectual interests in +thought, science, poetry, music, love, friendship, hatred, and +passions--went on as usual, independently of and apart from +political friendship or enmity with Napoleon Bonaparte and from all +the schemes of reconstruction. + + + + + +BOOK SIX: 1808 --10 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Prince Andrew had spent two years continuously in the country. + +All the plans Pierre had attempted on his estates--and constantly +changing from one thing to another had never accomplished--were +carried out by Prince Andrew without display and without perceptible +difficulty. + +He had in the highest degree a practical tenacity which Pierre +lacked, and without fuss or strain on his part this set things going. + +On one of his estates the three hundred serfs were liberated and +became free agricultural laborers--this being one of the first +examples of the kind in Russia. On other estates the serfs' compulsory +labor was commuted for a quitrent. A trained midwife was engaged for +Bogucharovo at his expense, and a priest was paid to teach reading and +writing to the children of the peasants and household serfs. + +Prince Andrew spent half his time at Bald Hills with his father +and his son, who was still in the care of nurses. The other half he +spent in "Bogucharovo Cloister," as his father called Prince +Andrew's estate. Despite the indifference to the affairs of the +world he had expressed to Pierre, he diligently followed all that went +on, received many books, and to his surprise noticed that when he or +his father had visitors from Petersburg, the very vortex of life, +these people lagged behind himself--who never left the country--in +knowledge of what was happening in home and foreign affairs. + +Besides being occupied with his estates and reading a great variety of +books, Prince Andrew was at this time busy with a critical survey of our +last two unfortunate campaigns, and with drawing up a proposal for a +reform of the army rules and regulations. + +In the spring of 1809 he went to visit the Ryazan estates which +had been inherited by his son, whose guardian he was. + +Warmed by the spring sunshine he sat in the caleche looking at the +new grass, the first leaves on the birches, and the first puffs of +white spring clouds floating across the clear blue sky. He was not +thinking of anything, but looked absent-mindedly and cheerfully from +side to side. + +They crossed the ferry where he had talked with Pierre the year +before. They went through the muddy village, past threshing floors and +green fields of winter rye, downhill where snow still lodged near +the bridge, uphill where the clay had been liquefied by the rain, past +strips of stubble land and bushes touched with green here and there, +and into a birch forest growing on both sides of the road. In the +forest it was almost hot, no wind could be felt. The birches with +their sticky green leaves were motionless, and lilac-colored flowers +and the first blades of green grass were pushing up and lifting last +year's leaves. The coarse evergreen color of the small fir trees +scattered here and there among the birches was an unpleasant +reminder of winter. On entering the forest the horses began to snort +and sweated visibly. + +Peter the footman made some remark to the coachman; the latter +assented. But apparently the coachman's sympathy was not enough for +Peter, and he turned on the box toward his master. + +"How pleasant it is, your excellency!" he said with a respectful +smile. + +"What?" + +"It's pleasant, your excellency!" + +"What is he talking about?" thought Prince Andrew. "Oh, the +spring, I suppose," he thought as he turned round. "Yes, really +everything is green already.... How early! The birches and cherry +and alders too are coming out.... But the oaks show no sign yet. Ah, +here is one oak!" + + At the edge of the road stood an oak. Probably ten times the age of +the birches that formed the forest, it was ten times as thick and +twice as tall as they. It was an enormous tree, its girth twice as +great as a man could embrace, and evidently long ago some of its +branches had been broken off and its bark scarred. With its huge +ungainly limbs sprawling unsymmetrically, and its gnarled hands and +fingers, it stood an aged, stern, and scornful monster among the +smiling birch trees. Only the dead-looking evergreen firs dotted about +in the forest, and this oak, refused to yield to the charm of spring +or notice either the spring or the sunshine. + +"Spring, love, happiness!" this oak seemed to say. "Are you not +weary of that stupid, meaningless, constantly repeated fraud? Always +the same and always a fraud? There is no spring, no sun, no happiness! +Look at those cramped dead firs, ever the same, and at me too, +sticking out my broken and barked fingers just where they have +grown, whether from my back or my sides: as they have grown so I +stand, and I do not believe in your hopes and your lies." + +As he passed through the forest Prince Andrew turned several times +to look at that oak, as if expecting something from it. Under the oak, +too, were flowers and grass, but it stood among them scowling, +rigid, misshapen, and grim as ever. + +"Yes, the oak is right, a thousand times right," thought Prince +Andrew. "Let others--the young--yield afresh to that fraud, but we +know life, our life is finished!" + +A whole sequence of new thoughts, hopeless but mournfully +pleasant, rose in his soul in connection with that tree. During this +journey he, as it were, considered his life afresh and arrived at +his old conclusion, restful in its hopelessness: that it was not for +him to begin anything anew--but that he must live out his life, +content to do no harm, and not disturbing himself or desiring +anything. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Prince Andrew had to see the Marshal of the Nobility for the +district in connection with the affairs of the Ryazan estate of +which he was trustee. This Marshal was Count Ilya Rostov, and in the +middle of May Prince Andrew went to visit him. + +It was now hot spring weather. The whole forest was already +clothed in green. It was dusty and so hot that on passing near water +one longed to bathe. + +Prince Andrew, depressed and preoccupied with the business about +which he had to speak to the Marshal, was driving up the avenue in the +grounds of the Rostovs' house at Otradnoe. He heard merry girlish +cries behind some trees on the right and saw a group of girls running to +cross the path of his caleche. Ahead of the rest and nearer to him ran +a dark-haired, remarkably slim, pretty girl in a yellow chintz +dress, with a white handkerchief on her head from under which loose +locks of hair escaped. The girl was shouting something but, seeing +that he was a stranger, ran back laughing without looking at him. + +Suddenly, he did not know why, he felt a pang. The day was so +beautiful, the sun so bright, everything around so gay, but that slim +pretty girl did not know, or wish to know, of his existence and was +contented and cheerful in her own separate--probably foolish--but +bright and happy life. "What is she so glad about? What is she +thinking of? Not of the military regulations or of the arrangement of +the Ryazan serfs' quitrents. Of what is she thinking? Why is she so +happy?" Prince Andrew asked himself with instinctive curiosity. + +In 1809 Count Ilya Rostov was living at Otradnoe just as he had done +in former years, that is, entertaining almost the whole province +with hunts, theatricals, dinners, and music. He was glad to see Prince +Andrew, as he was to see any new visitor, and insisted on his +staying the night. + +During the dull day, in the course of which he was entertained by +his elderly hosts and by the more important of the visitors (the old +count's house was crowded on account of an approaching name day), +Prince Andrew repeatedly glanced at Natasha, gay and laughing among +the younger members of the company, and asked himself each time, "What +is she thinking about? Why is she so glad?" + +That night, alone in new surroundings, he was long unable to +sleep. He read awhile and then put out his candle, but relit it. It +was hot in the room, the inside shutters of which were closed. He +was cross with the stupid old man (as he called Rostov), who had +made him stay by assuring him that some necessary documents had not +yet arrived from town, and he was vexed with himself for having +stayed. + +He got up and went to the window to open it. As soon as he opened +the shutters the moonlight, as if it had long been watching for +this, burst into the room. He opened the casement. The night was +fresh, bright, and very still. Just before the window was a row of +pollard trees, looking black on one side and with a silvery light on +the other. Beneath the trees grewsome kind of lush, wet, bushy +vegetation with silver-lit leaves and stems here and there. Farther +back beyond the dark trees a roof glittered with dew, to the right was +a leafy tree with brilliantly white trunk and branches, and above it +shone the moon, nearly at its full, in a pale, almost starless, spring +sky. Prince Andrew leaned his elbows on the window ledge and his +eyes rested on that sky. + +His room was on the first floor. Those in the rooms above were +also awake. He heard female voices overhead. + +"Just once more," said a girlish voice above him which Prince Andrew +recognized at once. + +"But when are you coming to bed?" replied another voice. + +"I won't, I can't sleep, what's the use? Come now for the last +time." + + Two girlish voices sang a musical passage--the end of some song. + +"Oh, how lovely! Now go to sleep, and there's an end of it." + +"You go to sleep, but I can't," said the first voice, coming +nearer to the window. She was evidently leaning right out, for the +rustle of her dress and even her breathing could be heard. +Everything was stone-still, like the moon and its light and the +shadows. Prince Andrew, too, dared not stir, for fear of betraying his +unintentional presence. + +"Sonya! Sonya!" he again heard the first speaker. "Oh, how can you +sleep? Only look how glorious it is! Ah, how glorious! Do wake up, +Sonya!" she said almost with tears in her voice. "There never, never +was such a lovely night before!" + +Sonya made some reluctant reply. + +"Do just come and see what a moon!... Oh, how lovely! Come +here.... Darling, sweetheart, come here! There, you see? I feel like +sitting down on my heels, putting my arms round my knees like this, +straining tight, as tight as possible, and flying away! Like this...." + +"Take care, you'll fall out." + +He heard the sound of a scuffle and Sonya's disapproving voice: +"It's past one o'clock." + +"Oh, you only spoil things for me. All right, go, go!" + +Again all was silent, but Prince Andrew knew she was still sitting +there. From time to time he heard a soft rustle and at times a sigh. + +"O God, O God! What does it mean?" she suddenly exclaimed. "To bed +then, if it must be!" and she slammed the casement. + +"For her I might as well not exist!" thought Prince Andrew while +he listened to her voice, for some reason expecting yet fearing that +she might say something about him. "There she is again! As if it +were on purpose," thought he. + +In his soul there suddenly arose such an unexpected turmoil of +youthful thoughts and hopes, contrary to the whole tenor of his +life, that unable to explain his condition to himself he lay down +and fell asleep at once. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Next morning, having taken leave of no one but the count, and not +waiting for the ladies to appear, Prince Andrew set off for home. + +It was already the beginning of June when on his return journey he +drove into the birch forest where the gnarled old oak had made so +strange and memorable an impression on him. In the forest the +harness bells sounded yet more muffled than they had done six weeks +before, for now all was thick, shady, and dense, and the young firs +dotted about in the forest did not jar on the general beauty but, +lending themselves to the mood around, were delicately green with +fluffy young shoots. + +The whole day had been hot. Somewhere a storm was gathering, but +only a small cloud had scattered some raindrops lightly, sprinkling +the road and the sappy leaves. The left side of the forest was dark in +the shade, the right side glittered in the sunlight, wet and shiny and +scarcely swayed by the breeze. Everything was in blossom, the +nightingales trilled, and their voices reverberated now near, now +far away. + +"Yes, here in this forest was that oak with which I agreed," thought +Prince Andrew. "But where is it?" he again wondered, gazing at the +left side of the road, and without recognizing it he looked with +admiration at the very oak he sought. The old oak, quite transfigured, +spreading out a canopy of sappy dark-green foliage, stood rapt and +slightly trembling in the rays of the evening sun. Neither gnarled +fingers nor old scars nor old doubts and sorrows were any of them in +evidence now. Through the hard century-old bark, even where there were +no twigs, leaves had sprouted such as one could hardly believe the old +veteran could have produced. + +"Yes, it is the same oak," thought Prince Andrew, and all at once he +was seized by an unreasoning springtime feeling of joy and renewal. +All the best moments of his life suddenly rose to his memory. +Austerlitz with the lofty heavens, his wife's dead reproachful face, +Pierre at the ferry, that girl thrilled by the beauty of the night, +and that night itself and the moon, and.... all this rushed suddenly +to his mind. + +"No, life is not over at thirty-one!" Prince Andrew suddenly decided +finally and decisively. "It is not enough for me to know what I have +in me--everyone must know it: Pierre, and that young girl who wanted +to fly away into the sky, everyone must know me, so that my life may +not be lived for myself alone while others live so apart from it, +but so that it may be reflected in them all, and they and I may live +in harmony!" + + +On reaching home Prince Andrew decided to go to Petersburg that +autumn and found all sorts of reasons for this decision. A whole +series of sensible and logical considerations showing it to be +essential for him to go to Petersburg, and even to re-enter the +service, kept springing up in his mind. He could not now understand +how he could ever even have doubted the necessity of taking an +active share in life, just as a month before he had not understood how +the idea of leaving the quiet country could ever enter his head. It +now seemed clear to him that all his experience of life must be +senselessly wasted unless he applied it to some kind of work and again +played an active part in life. He did not even remember how +formerly, on the strength of similar wretched logical arguments, it +had seemed obvious that he would be degrading himself if he now, after +the lessons he had had in life, allowed himself to believe in the +possibility of being useful and in the possibility of happiness or +love. Now reason suggested quite the opposite. After that journey to +Ryazan he found the country dull; his former pursuits no longer +interested him, and often when sitting alone in his study he got up, +went to the mirror, and gazed a long time at his own face. Then he +would turn away to the portrait of his dead Lise, who with hair curled +a la grecque looked tenderly and gaily at him out of the gilt frame. +She did not now say those former terrible words to him, but looked +simply, merrily, and inquisitively at him. And Prince Andrew, crossing +his arms behind him, long paced the room, now frowning, now smiling, +as he reflected on those irrational, inexpressible thoughts, secret as +a crime, which altered his whole life and were connected with +Pierre, with fame, with the girl at the window, the oak, and woman's +beauty and love. And if anyone came into his room at such moments he +was particularly cold, stern, and above all unpleasantly logical. + +"My dear," Princess Mary entering at such a moment would say, +"little Nicholas can't go out today, it's very cold." + +"If it were hot," Prince Andrew would reply at such times very dryly +to his sister, "he could go out in his smock, but as it is cold he +must wear warm clothes, which were designed for that purpose. That +is what follows from the fact that it is cold; and not that a child +who needs fresh air should remain at home," he would add with +extreme logic, as if punishing someone for those secret illogical +emotions that stirred within him. + +At such moments Princess Mary would think how intellectual work +dries men up. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Prince Andrew arrived in Petersburg in August, 1809. It was the time +when the youthful Speranski was at the zenith of his fame and his +reforms were being pushed forward with the greatest energy. That +same August the Emperor was thrown from his caleche, injured his +leg, and remained three weeks at Peterhof, receiving Speranski every +day and no one else. At that time the two famous decrees were being +prepared that so agitated society--abolishing court ranks and +introducing examinations to qualify for the grades of Collegiate +Assessor and State Councilor--and not merely these but a whole state +constitution, intended to change the existing order of government in +Russia: legal, administrative, and financial, from the Council of +State down to the district tribunals. Now those vague liberal dreams +with which the Emperor Alexander had ascended the throne, and which he +had tried to put into effect with the aid of his associates, +Czartoryski, Novosiltsev, Kochubey, and Strogonov--whom he himself +in jest had called his Comite de salut public--were taking shape and +being realized. + +Now all these men were replaced by Speranski on the civil side, +and Arakcheev on the military. Soon after his arrival Prince Andrew, +as a gentleman of the chamber, presented himself at court and at a +levee. The Emperor, though he met him twice, did not favor him with +a single word. It had always seemed to Prince Andrew before that he +was antipathetic to the Emperor and that the latter disliked his +face and personality generally, and in the cold, repellent glance +the Emperor gave him, he now found further confirmation of this +surmise. The courtiers explained the Emperor's neglect of him by His +Majesty's displeasure at Bolkonski's not having served since 1805. + +"I know myself that one cannot help one's sympathies and +antipathies," thought Prince Andrew, "so it will not do to present +my proposal for the reform of the army regulations to the Emperor +personally, but the project will speak for itself." + +He mentioned what he had written to an old field marshal, a friend +of his father's. The field marshal made an appointment to see him, +received him graciously, and promised to inform the Emperor. A few +days later Prince Andrew received notice that he was to go to see +the Minister of War, Count Arakcheev. + + +On the appointed day Prince Andrew entered Count Arakcheev's waiting +room at nine in the morning. + +He did not know Arakcheev personally, had never seen him, and all he +had heard of him inspired him with but little respect for the man. + +"He is Minister of War, a man trusted by the Emperor, and I need not +concern myself about his personal qualities: he has been +commissioned to consider my project, so he alone can get it +adopted," thought Prince Andrew as he waited among a number of +important and unimportant people in Count Arakcheev's waiting room. + +During his service, chiefly as an adjutant, Prince Andrew had seen +the anterooms of many important men, and the different types of such +rooms were well known to him. Count Arakcheev's anteroom had quite a +special character. The faces of the unimportant people awaiting +their turn for an audience showed embarrassment and servility; the +faces of those of higher rank expressed a common feeling of +awkwardness, covered by a mask of unconcern and ridicule of +themselves, their situation, and the person for whom they were +waiting. Some walked thoughtfully up and down, others whispered and +laughed. Prince Andrew heard the nickname "Sila Andreevich" and the +words, "Uncle will give it to us hot," in reference to Count +Arakcheev. One general (an important personage), evidently feeling +offended at having to wait so long, sat crossing and uncrossing his +legs and smiling contemptuously to himself. + +But the moment the door opened one feeling alone appeared on all +faces--that of fear. Prince Andrew for the second time asked the +adjutant on duty to take in his name, but received an ironical look +and was told that his turn would come in due course. After some others +had been shown in and out of the minister's room by the adjutant on +duty, an officer who struck Prince Andrew by his humiliated and +frightened air was admitted at that terrible door. This officer's +audience lasted a long time. Then suddenly the grating sound of a +harsh voice was heard from the other side of the door, and the +officer--with pale face and trembling lips--came out and passed +through the waiting room, clutching his head. + +After this Prince Andrew was conducted to the door and the officer +on duty said in a whisper, "To the right, at the window." + +Prince Andrew entered a plain tidy room and saw at the table a man +of forty with a long waist, a long closely cropped head, deep +wrinkles, scowling brows above dull greenish-hazel eyes and an +overhanging red nose. Arakcheev turned his head toward him without +looking at him. + +"What is your petition?" asked Arakcheev. + +"I am not petitioning, your excellency," returned Prince Andrew +quietly. + +Arakcheev's eyes turned toward him. + +"Sit down," said he. "Prince Bolkonski?" + +"I am not petitioning about anything. His Majesty the Emperor has +deigned to send your excellency a project submitted by me..." + +"You see, my dear sir, I have read your project," interrupted +Arakcheev, uttering only the first words amiably and then--again +without looking at Prince Andrew--relapsing gradually into a tone of +grumbling contempt. "You are proposing new military laws? There are +many laws but no one to carry out the old ones. Nowadays everybody +designs laws, it is easier writing than doing." + +"I came at His Majesty the Emperor's wish to learn from your +excellency how you propose to deal with the memorandum I have +presented," said Prince Andrew politely. + +"I have endorsed a resolution on your memorandum and sent it to +the committee. I do not approve of it," said Arakcheev, rising and +taking a paper from his writing table. "Here!" and he handed it to +Prince Andrew. + +Across the paper was scrawled in pencil, without capital letters, +misspelled, and without punctuation: "Unsoundly constructed because +resembles an imitation of the French military code and from the +Articles of War needlessly deviating." + +"To what committee has the memorandum been referred?" inquired +Prince Andrew. + +"To the Committee on Army Regulations, and I have recommended that +your honor should be appointed a member, but without a salary." + +Prince Andrew smiled. + +"I don't want one." + +"A member without salary," repeated Arakcheev. "I have the +honor... Eh! Call the next one! Who else is there?" he shouted, bowing +to Prince Andrew. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +While waiting for the announcement of his appointment to the +committee Prince Andrew looked up his former acquaintances, +particularly those he knew to be in power and whose aid he might need. +In Petersburg he now experienced the same feeling he had had on the +eve of a battle, when troubled by anxious curiosity and irresistibly +attracted to the ruling circles where the future, on which the fate of +millions depended, was being shaped. From the irritation of the +older men, the curiosity of the uninitiated, the reserve of the +initiated, the hurry and preoccupation of everyone, and the +innumerable committees and commissions of whose existence he learned +every day, he felt that now, in 1809, here in Petersburg a vast +civil conflict was in preparation, the commander in chief of which was +a mysterious person he did not know, but who was supposed to be a +man of genius--Speranski. And this movement of reconstruction of which +Prince Andrew had a vague idea, and Speranski its chief promoter, +began to interest him so keenly that the question of the army +regulations quickly receded to a secondary place in his consciousness. + +Prince Andrew was most favorably placed to secure good reception +in the highest and most diverse Petersburg circles of the day. The +reforming party cordially welcomed and courted him, in the first place +because he was reputed to be clever and very well read, and secondly +because by liberating his serfs he had obtained the reputation of +being a liberal. The party of the old and dissatisfied, who censured +the innovations, turned to him expecting his sympathy in their +disapproval of the reforms, simply because he was the son of his +father. The feminine society world welcomed him gladly, because he was +rich, distinguished, a good match, and almost a newcomer, with a +halo of romance on account of his supposed death and the tragic loss +of his wife. Besides this the general opinion of all who had known him +previously was that he had greatly improved during these last five +years, having softened and grown more manly, lost his former +affectation, pride, and contemptuous irony, and acquired the +serenity that comes with years. People talked about him, were +interested in him, and wanted to meet him. + +The day after his interview with Count Arakcheev, Prince Andrew +spent the evening at Count Kochubey's. He told the count of his +interview with Sila Andreevich (Kochubey spoke of Arakcheev by that +nickname with the same vague irony Prince Andrew had noticed in the +Minister of War's anteroom). + +"Mon cher, even in this case you can't do without Michael +Mikhaylovich Speranski. He manages everything. I'll speak to him. He +has promised to come this evening." + +"What has Speranski to do with the army regulations?" asked Prince +Andrew. + +Kochubey shook his head smilingly, as if surprised at Bolkonski's +simplicity. + +"We were talking to him about you a few days ago," Kochubey +continued, "and about your freed plowmen." + +"Oh, is it you, Prince, who have freed your serfs?" said an old +man of Catherine's day, turning contemptuously toward Bolkonski. + +"It was a small estate that brought in no profit," replied Prince +Andrew, trying to extenuate his action so as not to irritate the old +man uselessly. + +"Afraid of being late..." said the old man, looking at Kochubey. + +"There's one thing I don't understand," he continued. "Who will plow +the land if they are set free? It is easy to write laws, but difficult +to rule.... Just the same as now--I ask you, Count--who will be +heads of the departments when everybody has to pass examinations?" + +"Those who pass the examinations, I suppose," replied Kochubey, +crossing his legs and glancing round. + +"Well, I have Pryanichnikov serving under me, a splendid man, a +priceless man, but he's sixty. Is he to go up for examination?" + +"Yes, that's a difficulty, as education is not at all general, +but..." + +Count Kochubey did not finish. He rose, took Prince Andrew by the +arm, and went to meet a tall, bald, fair man of about forty with a +large open forehead and a long face of unusual and peculiar whiteness, +who was just entering. The newcomer wore a blue swallow-tail coat with +a cross suspended from his neck and a star on his left breast. It +was Speranski. Prince Andrew recognized him at once, and felt a +throb within him, as happens at critical moments of life. Whether it +was from respect, envy, or anticipation, he did not know. +Speranski's whole figure was of a peculiar type that made him easily +recognizable. In the society in which Prince Andrew lived he had never +seen anyone who together with awkward and clumsy gestures possessed +such calmness and self-assurance; he had never seen so resolute yet +gentle an expression as that in those half-closed, rather humid +eyes, or so firm a smile that expressed nothing; nor had he heard such +a refined, smooth, soft voice; above all he had never seen such +delicate whiteness of face or hands--hands which were broad, but +very plump, soft, and white. Such whiteness and softness Prince Andrew +had only seen on the faces of soldiers who had been long in +hospital. This was Speranski, Secretary of State, reporter to the +Emperor and his companion at Erfurt, where he had more than once met +and talked with Napoleon. + +Speranski did not shift his eyes from one face to another as +people involuntarily do on entering a large company and was in no +hurry to speak. He spoke slowly, with assurance that he would be +listened to, and he looked only at the person with whom he was +conversing. + +Prince Andrew followed Speranski's every word and movement with +particular attention. As happens to some people, especially to men who +judge those near to them severely, he always on meeting anyone +new--especially anyone whom, like Speranski, he knew by +reputation--expected to discover in him the perfection of human +qualities. + +Speranski told Kochubey he was sorry he had been unable to come +sooner as he had been detained at the palace. He did not say that +the Emperor had kept him, and Prince Andrew noticed this affectation +of modesty. When Kochubey introduced Prince Andrew, Speranski slowly +turned his eyes to Bolkonski with his customary smile and looked at +him in silence. + +"I am very glad to make your acquaintance. I had heard of you, as +everyone has," he said after a pause. + +Kochubey said a few words about the reception Arakcheev had given +Bolkonski. Speranski smiled more markedly. + +"The chairman of the Committee on Army Regulations is my good friend +Monsieur Magnitski," he said, fully articulating every word and +syllable, "and if you like I can put you in touch with him." He paused +at the full stop. "I hope you will find him sympathetic and ready to +co-operate in promoting all that is reasonable." + +A circle soon formed round Speranski, and the old man who had talked +about his subordinate Pryanichnikov addressed a question to him. + +Prince Andrew without joining in the conversation watched every +movement of Speranski's: this man, not long since an insignificant +divinity student, who now, Bolkonski thought, held in his hands--those +plump white hands--the fate of Russia. Prince Andrew was struck by the +extraordinarily disdainful composure with which Speranski answered the +old man. He appeared to address condescending words to him from an +immeasurable height. When the old man began to speak too loud, +Speranski smiled and said he could not judge of the advantage or +disadvantage of what pleased the sovereign. + +Having talked for a little while in the general circle, Speranski +rose and coming up to Prince Andrew took him along to the other end of +the room. It was clear that he thought it necessary to interest +himself in Bolkonski. + +"I had no chance to talk with you, Prince, during the animated +conversation in which that venerable gentleman involved me," he said +with a mildly contemptuous smile, as if intimating by that smile +that he and Prince Andrew understood the insignificance of the +people with whom he had just been talking. This flattered Prince +Andrew. "I have known of you for a long time: first from your action +with regard to your serfs, a first example, of which it is very +desirable that there should be more imitators; and secondly because +you are one of those gentlemen of the chamber who have not +considered themselves offended by the new decree concerning the +ranks allotted to courtiers, which is causing so much gossip and +tittle-tattle." + +"No," said Prince Andrew, "my father did not wish me to take +advantage of the privilege. I began the service from the lower grade." + +"Your father, a man of the last century, evidently stands above +our contemporaries who so condemn this measure which merely +reestablishes natural justice." + +"I think, however, that these condemnations have some ground," +returned Prince Andrew, trying to resist Speranski's influence, of +which he began to be conscious. He did not like to agree with him in +everything and felt a wish to contradict. Though he usually spoke +easily and well, he felt a difficulty in expressing himself now +while talking with Speranski. He was too much absorbed in observing +the famous man's personality. + +"Grounds of personal ambition maybe," Speranski put in quietly. + +"And of state interest to some extent," said Prince Andrew. + +"What do you mean?" asked Speranski quietly, lowering his eyes. + +"I am an admirer of Montesquieu," replied Prince Andrew, "and his +idea that le principe des monarchies est l'honneur me parait +incontestable. Certains droits et privileges de la noblesse me +paraissent etre des moyens de soutenir ce sentiment."* + + +*"The principle of monarchies is honor seems to me incontestable. +Certain rights and privileges for the aristocracy appear to me a means +of maintaining that sentiment." + + +The smile vanished from Speranski's white face, which was much +improved by the change. Probably Prince Andrew's thought interested +him. + +"Si vous envisagez la question sous ce point de vue,"* he began, +pronouncing French with evident difficulty, and speaking even slower +than in Russian but quite calmly. + + +*"If you regard the question from that point of view." + + +Speranski went on to say that honor, l'honeur, cannot be upheld by +privileges harmful to the service; that honor, l'honneur, is either +a negative concept of not doing what is blameworthy or it is a +source of emulation in pursuit of commendation and rewards, which +recognize it. His arguments were concise, simple, and clear. + +"An institution upholding honor, the source of emulation, is one +similar to the Legion d'honneur of the great Emperor Napoleon, not +harmful but helpful to the success of the service, but not a class +or court privilege." + +"I do not dispute that, but it cannot be denied that court +privileges have attained the same end," returned Prince Andrew. "Every +courtier considers himself bound to maintain his position worthily." + +"Yet you do not care to avail yourself of the privilege, Prince," +said Speranski, indicating by a smile that he wished to finish amiably +an argument which was embarrassing for his companion. "If you will +do me the honor of calling on me on Wednesday," he added, "I will, +after talking with Magnitski, let you know what may interest you, +and shall also have the pleasure of a more detailed chat with you." + +Closing his eyes, he bowed a la francaise, without taking leave, and +trying to attract as little attention as possible, he left the room. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +During the first weeks of his stay in Petersburg Prince Andrew +felt the whole trend of thought he had formed during his life of +seclusion quite overshadowed by the trifling cares that engrossed +him in that city. + +On returning home in the evening he would jot down in his notebook +four or five necessary calls or appointments for certain hours. The +mechanism of life, the arrangement of the day so as to be in time +everywhere, absorbed the greater part of his vital energy. He did +nothing, did not even think or find time to think, but only talked, +and talked successfully, of what he had thought while in the country. + +He sometimes noticed with dissatisfaction that he repeated the +same remark on the same day in different circles. But he was so busy +for whole days together that he had no time to notice that he was +thinking of nothing. + +As he had done on their first meeting at Kochubey's, Speranski +produced a strong impression on Prince Andrew on the Wednesday, when +he received him tete-a-tate at his own house and talked to him long +and confidentially. + +To Bolkonski so many people appeared contemptible and insignificant +creatures, and he so longed to find in someone the living ideal of +that perfection toward which he strove, that he readily believed that +in Speranski he had found this ideal of a perfectly rational and +virtuous man. Had Speranski sprung from the same class as himself and +possessed the same breeding and traditions, Bolkonski would soon have +discovered his weak, human, unheroic sides; but as it was, Speranski's +strange and logical turn of mind inspired him with respect all the +more because he did not quite understand him. Moreover, Speranski, +either because he appreciated the other's capacity or because he +considered it necessary to win him to his side, showed off his +dispassionate calm reasonableness before Prince Andrew and flattered +him with that subtle flattery which goes hand in hand with +self-assurance and consists in a tacit assumption that one's companion +is the only man besides oneself capable of understanding the folly of +the rest of mankind and the reasonableness and profundity of one's own +ideas. + +During their long conversation on Wednesday evening, Speranski +more than once remarked: "We regard everything that is above the +common level of rooted custom..." or, with a smile: "But we want the +wolves to be fed and the sheep to be safe..." or: "They cannot +understand this..." and all in a way that seemed to say: "We, you +and I, understand what they are and who we are." + +This first long conversation with Speranski only strengthened in +Prince Andrew the feeling he had experienced toward him at their first +meeting. He saw in him a remarkable, clear-thinking man of vast +intellect who by his energy and persistence had attained power, +which he was using solely for the welfare of Russia. In Prince +Andrew's eyes Speranski was the man he would himself have wished to +be--one who explained all the facts of life reasonably, considered +important only what was rational, and was capable of applying the +standard of reason to everything. Everything seemed so simple and +clear in Speranski's exposition that Prince Andrew involuntarily +agreed with him about everything. If he replied and argued, it was +only because he wished to maintain his independence and not submit +to Speranski's opinions entirely. Everything was right and +everything was as it should be: only one thing disconcerted Prince +Andrew. This was Speranski's cold, mirrorlike look, which did not +allow one to penetrate to his soul, and his delicate white hands, +which Prince Andrew involuntarily watched as one does watch the +hands of those who possess power. This mirrorlike gaze and those +delicate hands irritated Prince Andrew, he knew not why. He was +unpleasantly struck, too, by the excessive contempt for others that he +observed in Speranski, and by the diversity of lines of argument he +used to support his opinions. He made use of every kind of mental +device, except analogy, and passed too boldly, it seemed to Prince +Andrew, from one to another. Now he would take up the position of a +practical man and condemn dreamers; now that of a satirist, and +laugh ironically at his opponents; now grow severely logical, or +suddenly rise to the realm of metaphysics. (This last resource was one +he very frequently employed.) He would transfer a question to +metaphysical heights, pass on to definitions of space, time, and +thought, and, having deduced the refutation he needed, would again +descend to the level of the original discussion. + +In general the trait of Speranski's mentality which struck Prince +Andrew most was his absolute and unshakable belief in the power and +authority of reason. It was evident that the thought could never occur +to him which to Prince Andrew seemed so natural, namely, that it is +after all impossible to express all one thinks; and that he had +never felt the doubt, "Is not all I think and believe nonsense?" And +it was just this peculiarity of Speranski's mind that particularly +attracted Prince Andrew. + +During the first period of their acquaintance Bolkonski felt a +passionate admiration for him similar to that which he had once felt +for Bonaparte. The fact that Speranski was the son of a village +priest, and that stupid people might meanly despise him on account +of his humble origin (as in fact many did), caused Prince Andrew to +cherish his sentiment for him the more, and unconsciously to +strengthen it. + +On that first evening Bolkonski spent with him, having mentioned the +Commission for the Revision of the Code of Laws, Speranski told him +sarcastically that the Commission had existed for a hundred and +fifty years, had cost millions, and had done nothing except that +Rosenkampf had stuck labels on the corresponding paragraphs of the +different codes. + +"And that is all the state has for the millions it has spent," +said he. "We want to give the Senate new juridical powers, but we have +no laws. That is why it is a sin for men like you, Prince, not to +serve in these times!" + +Prince Andrew said that for that work an education in +jurisprudence was needed which he did not possess. + +"But nobody possesses it, so what would you have? It is a vicious +circle from which we must break a way out." + +A week later Prince Andrew was a member of the Committee on Army +Regulations and--what he had not at all expected--was chairman of a +section of the committee for the revision of the laws. At +Speranski's request he took the first part of the Civil Code that +was being drawn up and, with the aid of the Code Napoleon and the +Institutes of Justinian, he worked at formulating the section on +Personal Rights. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Nearly two years before this, in 1808, Pierre on returning to +Petersburg after visiting his estates had involuntarily found +himself in a leading position among the Petersburg Freemasons. He +arranged dining and funeral lodge meetings, enrolled new members, +and busied himself uniting various lodges and acquiring authentic +charters. He gave money for the erection of temples and supplemented +as far as he could the collection of alms, in regard to which the +majority of members were stingy and irregular. He supported almost +singlehanded a poorhouse the order had founded in Petersburg. + +His life meanwhile continued as before, with the same infatuations +and dissipations. He liked to dine and drink well, and though he +considered it immoral and humiliating could not resist the temptations +of the bachelor circles in which he moved. + +Amid the turmoil of his activities and distractions, however, Pierre +at the end of a year began to feel that the more firmly he tried to +rest upon it, the more Masonic ground on which he stood gave way under +him. At the same time he felt that the deeper the ground sank under +him the closer bound he involuntarily became to the order. When he had +joined the Freemasons he had experienced the feeling of one who +confidently steps onto the smooth surface of a bog. When he put his +foot down it sank in. To make quite sure of the firmness of the ground, +he put his other foot down and sank deeper still, became stuck in +it, and involuntarily waded knee-deep in the bog. + +Joseph Alexeevich was not in Petersburg--he had of late stood +aside from the affairs of the Petersburg lodges, and lived almost +entirely in Moscow. All the members of the lodges were men Pierre knew +in ordinary life, and it was difficult for him to regard them merely +as Brothers in Freemasonry and not as Prince B. or Ivan Vasilevich D., +whom he knew in society mostly as weak and insignificant men. Under +the Masonic aprons and insignia he saw the uniforms and decorations at +which they aimed in ordinary life. Often after collecting alms, and +reckoning up twenty to thirty rubles received for the most part in +promises from a dozen members, of whom half were as well able to pay +as himself, Pierre remembered the Masonic vow in which each Brother +promised to devote all his belongings to his neighbor, and doubts on +which he tried not to dwell arose in his soul. + +He divided the Brothers he knew into four categories. In the first +he put those who did not take an active part in the affairs of the +lodges or in human affairs, but were exclusively occupied with the +mystical science of the order: with questions of the threefold +designation of God, the three primordial elements--sulphur, mercury, +and salt--or the meaning of the square and all the various figures +of the temple of Solomon. Pierre respected this class of Brothers to +which the elder ones chiefly belonged, including, Pierre thought, +Joseph Alexeevich himself, but he did not share their interests. His +heart was not in the mystical aspect of Freemasonry. + +In the second category Pierre reckoned himself and others like +him, seeking and vacillating, who had not yet found in Freemasonry a +straight and comprehensible path, but hoped to do so. + +In the third category he included those Brothers (the majority) +who saw nothing in Freemasonry but the external forms and +ceremonies, and prized the strict performance of these forms without +troubling about their purport or significance. Such were Willarski and +even the Grand Master of the principal lodge. + +Finally, to the fourth category also a great many Brothers belonged, +particularly those who had lately joined. These according to +Pierre's observations were men who had no belief in anything, nor +desire for anything, but joined the Freemasons merely to associate +with the wealthy young Brothers who were influential through their +connections or rank, and of whom there were very many in the lodge. + +Pierre began to feel dissatisfied with what he was doing. +Freemasonry, at any rate as he saw it here, sometimes seemed to him +based merely on externals. He did not think of doubting Freemasonry +itself, but suspected that Russian Masonry had taken a wrong path +and deviated from its original principles. And so toward the end of +the year he went abroad to be initiated into the higher secrets of the +order. + +In the summer of 1809 Pierre returned to Petersburg. Our +Freemasons knew from correspondence with those abroad that Bezukhov +had obtained the confidence of many highly placed persons, had been +initiated into many mysteries, had been raised to a higher grade, +and was bringing back with him much that might conduce to the +advantage of the Masonic cause in Russia. The Petersburg Freemasons +all came to see him, tried to ingratiate themselves with him, and it +seemed to them all that he was preparing something for them and +concealing it. + +A solemn meeting of the lodge of the second degree was convened, +at which Pierre promised to communicate to the Petersburg Brothers +what he had to deliver to them from the highest leaders of their +order. The meeting was a full one. After the usual ceremonies Pierre +rose and began his address. + +"Dear Brothers," he began, blushing and stammering, with a written +speech in his hand, "it is not sufficient to observe our mysteries +in the seclusion of our lodge--we must act--act! We are drowsing, +but we must act." Pierre raised his notebook and began to read. + +"For the dissemination of pure truth and to secure the triumph of +virtue," he read, "we must cleanse men from prejudice, diffuse +principles in harmony with the spirit of the times, undertake the +education of the young, unite ourselves in indissoluble bonds with the +wisest men, boldly yet prudently overcome superstitions, infidelity, +and folly, and form of those devoted to us a body linked together by +unity of purpose and possessed of authority and power. + +"To attain this end we must secure a preponderance of virtue over +vice and must endeavor to secure that the honest man may, even in this +world, receive a lasting reward for his virtue. But in these great +endeavors we are gravely hampered by the political institutions of +today. What is to be done in these circumstances? To favor +revolutions, overthrow everything, repel force by force?... No! We are +very far from that. Every violent reform deserves censure, for it +quite fails to remedy evil while men remain what they are, and also +because wisdom needs no violence. + +"The whole plan of our order should be based on the idea of +preparing men of firmness and virtue bound together by unity of +conviction--aiming at the punishment of vice and folly, and +patronizing talent and virtue: raising worthy men from the dust and +attaching them to our Brotherhood. Only then will our order have the +power unobtrusively to bind the hands of the protectors of disorder +and to control them without their being aware of it. In a word, we +must found a form of government holding universal sway, which should +be diffused over the whole world without destroying the bonds of +citizenship, and beside which all other governments can continue in +their customary course and do everything except what impedes the great +aim of our order, which is to obtain for virtue the victory over vice. +This aim was that of Christianity itself. It taught men to be wise and +good and for their own benefit to follow the example and instruction +of the best and wisest men. + +"At that time, when everything was plunged in darkness, preaching +alone was of course sufficient. The novelty of Truth endowed her +with special strength, but now we need much more powerful methods. +It is now necessary that man, governed by his senses, should find in +virtue a charm palpable to those senses. It is impossible to eradicate +the passions; but we must strive to direct them to a noble aim, and it +is therefore necessary that everyone should be able to satisfy his +passions within the limits of virtue. Our order should provide means +to that end. + +"As soon as we have a certain number of worthy men in every state, +each of them again training two others and all being closely united, +everything will be possible for our order, which has already in secret +accomplished much for the welfare of mankind." + +This speech not only made a strong impression, but created +excitement in the lodge. The majority of the Brothers, seeing in it +dangerous designs of Illuminism,* met it with a coldness that +surprised Pierre. The Grand Master began answering him, and Pierre +began developing his views with more and more warmth. It was long +since there had been so stormy a meeting. Parties were formed, some +accusing Pierre of Illuminism, others supporting him. At that +meeting he was struck for the first time by the endless variety of +men's minds, which prevents a truth from ever presenting itself +identically to two persons. Even those members who seemed to be on his +side understood him in their own way with limitations and +alterations he could not agree to, as what he always wanted most was +to convey his thought to others just as he himself understood it. + + +*The Illuminati sought to substitute republican for monarchical +institutions. + + +At the end of the meeting the Grand Master with irony and ill-will +reproved Bezukhov for his vehemence and said it was not love of virtue +alone, but also a love of strife that had moved him in the dispute. +Pierre did not answer him and asked briefly whether his proposal would +be accepted. He was told that it would not, and without waiting for +the usual formalities he left the lodge and went home. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Again Pierre was overtaken by the depression he so dreaded. For +three days after the delivery of his speech at the lodge he lay on a +sofa at home receiving no one and going nowhere. + +It was just then that he received a letter from his wife, who +implored him to see her, telling him how grieved she was about him and +how she wished to devote her whole life to him. + +At the end of the letter she informed him that in a few days she +would return to Petersburg from abroad. + +Following this letter one of the Masonic Brothers whom Pierre +respected less than the others forced his way in to see him and, +turning the conversation upon Pierre's matrimonial affairs, by way +of fraternal advice expressed the opinion that his severity to his +wife was wrong and that he was neglecting one of the first rules of +Freemasonry by not forgiving the penitent. + +At the same time his mother-in-law, Prince Vasili's wife, sent to +him imploring him to come if only for a few minutes to discuss a +most important matter. Pierre saw that there was a conspiracy +against him and that they wanted to reunite him with his wife, and +in the mood he then was, this was not even unpleasant to him. +Nothing mattered to him. Nothing in life seemed to him of much +importance, and under the influence of the depression that possessed +him he valued neither his liberty nor his resolution to punish his +wife. + +"No one is right and no one is to blame; so she too is not to +blame," he thought. + +If he did not at once give his consent to a reunion with his wife, +it was only because in his state of depression he did not feel able to +take any step. Had his wife come to him, he would not have turned +her away. Compared to what preoccupied him, was it not a matter of +indifference whether he lived with his wife or not? + +Without replying either to his wife or his mother-in-law, Pierre +late one night prepared for a journey and started for Moscow to see +Joseph Alexeevich. This is what he noted in his diary: + + +Moscow, 17th November + +I have just returned from my benefactor, and hasten to write down what I +have experienced. Joseph Alexeevich is living poorly and has for three +years been suffering from a painful disease of the bladder. No one has +ever heard him utter a groan or a word of complaint. From morning till +late at night, except when he eats his very plain food, he is working at +science. He received me graciously and made me sit down on the bed on +which he lay. I made the sign of the Knights of the East and of +Jerusalem, and he responded in the same manner, asking me with a mild +smile what I had learned and gained in the Prussian and Scottish lodges. +I told him everything as best I could, and told him what I had proposed +to our Petersburg lodge, of the bad reception I had encountered, and of +my rupture with the Brothers. Joseph Alexeevich, having remained silent +and thoughtful for a good while, told me his view of the matter, which +at once lit up for me my whole past and the future path I should follow. +He surprised me by asking whether I remembered the threefold aim of the +order: (1) The preservation and study of the mystery. (2) The +purification and reformation of oneself for its reception, and (3) The +improvement of the human race by striving for such purification. Which +is the principal aim of these three? Certainly self-reformation and +self-purification. Only to this aim can we always strive independently +of circumstances. But at the same time just this aim demands the +greatest efforts of us; and so, led astray by pride, losing sight of +this aim, we occupy ourselves either with the mystery which in our +impurity we are unworthy to receive, or seek the reformation of the +human race while ourselves setting an example of baseness and +profligacy. Illuminism is not a pure doctrine, just because it is +attracted by social activity and puffed up by pride. On this ground +Joseph Alexeevich condemned my speech and my whole activity, and in the +depth of my soul I agreed with him. Talking of my family affairs he said +to me, "the chief duty of a true Mason, as I have told you, lies in +perfecting himself. We often think that by removing all the difficulties +of our life we shall more quickly reach our aim, but on the contrary, my +dear sir, it is only in the midst of worldly cares that we can attain +our three chief aims: (1) Self-knowledge--for man can only know himself +by comparison, (2) Self-perfecting, which can only be attained by +conflict, and (3) The attainment of the chief virtue--love of death. +Only the vicissitudes of life can show us its vanity and develop our +innate love of death or of rebirth to a new life." These words are all +the more remarkable because, in spite of his great physical sufferings, +Joseph Alexeevich is never weary of life though he loves death, for +which--in spite of the purity and loftiness of his inner man--he does +not yet feel himself sufficiently prepared. My benefactor then explained +to me fully the meaning of the Great Square of creation and pointed out +to me that the numbers three and seven are the basis of everything. He +advised me not to avoid intercourse with the Petersburg Brothers, but to +take up only second-grade posts in the lodge, to try, while diverting +the Brothers from pride, to turn them toward the true path +self-knowledge and self-perfecting. Besides this he advised me for +myself personally above all to keep a watch over myself, and to that end +he gave me a notebook, the one I am now writing in and in which I will +in future note down all my actions. + + +Petersburg, 23rd November + +I am again living with my wife. My mother-in-law came to me in tears +and said that Helene was here and that she implored me to hear her; +that she was innocent and unhappy at my desertion, and much more. I +knew that if I once let myself see her I should not have strength to +go on refusing what she wanted. In my perplexity I did not know +whose aid and advice to seek. Had my benefactor been here he would +have told me what to do. I went to my room and reread Joseph +Alexeevich's letters and recalled my conversations with him, and +deduced from it all that I ought not to refuse a suppliant, and +ought to reach a helping hand to everyone--especially to one so +closely bound to me--and that I must bear my cross. But if I forgive +her for the sake of doing right, then let union with her have only a +spiritual aim. That is what I decided, and what I wrote to Joseph +Alexeevich. I told my wife that I begged her to forget the past, to +forgive me whatever wrong I may have done her, and that I had +nothing to forgive. It gave me joy to tell her this. She need not know +how hard it was for me to see her again. I have settled on the upper +floor of this big house and am experiencing a happy feeling of +regeneration. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +At that time, as always happens, the highest society that met at +court and at the grand balls was divided into several circles, each +with its own particular tone. The largest of these was the French +circle of the Napoleonic alliance, the circle of Count Rumyantsev +and Caulaincourt. In this group Helene, as soon as she had settled +in Petersburg with her husband, took a very prominent place. She was +visited by the members of the French embassy and by many belonging +to that circle and noted for their intellect and polished manners. + +Helene had been at Erfurt during the famous meeting of the +Emperors and had brought from there these connections with the +Napoleonic notabilities. At Erfurt her success had been brilliant. +Napoleon himself had noticed her in the theater and said of her: +"C'est un superbe animal."* Her success as a beautiful and elegant +woman did not surprise Pierre, for she had become even handsomer +than before. What did surprise him was that during these last two +years his wife had succeeded in gaining the reputation "d' une femme +charmante, aussi spirituelle que belle."*[2] The distinguished +Prince de Ligne wrote her eight-page letters. Bilibin saved up his +epigrams to produce them in Countess Bezukhova's presence. To be +received in the Countess Bezukhova's salon was regarded as a diploma +of intellect. Young men read books before attending Helene's evenings, +to have something to say in her salon, and secretaries of the embassy, +and even ambassadors, confided diplomatic secrets to her, so that in a +way Helene was a power. Pierre, who knew she was very stupid, +sometimes attended, with a strange feeling of perplexity and fear, her +evenings and dinner parties, where politics, poetry, and philosophy +were discussed. At these parties his feelings were like those of a +conjuror who always expects his trick to be found out at any moment. +But whether because stupidity was just what was needed to run such a +salon, or because those who were deceived found pleasure in the +deception, at any rate it remained unexposed and Helene Bezukhova's +reputation as a lovely and clever woman became so firmly established +that she could say the emptiest and stupidest things and everybody +would go into raptures over every word of hers and look for a profound +meaning in it of which she herself had no conception. + + +*"That's a superb animal." + +*[2] "Of a charming woman, as witty as she is lovely." + + +Pierre was just the husband needed for a brilliant society woman. He +was that absent-minded crank, a grand seigneur husband who was in no +one's way, and far from spoiling the high tone and general +impression of the drawing room, he served, by the contrast he +presented to her, as an advantageous background to his elegant and +tactful wife. Pierre during the last two years, as a result of his +continual absorption in abstract interests and his sincere contempt +for all else, had acquired in his wife's circle, which did not +interest him, that air of unconcern, indifference, and benevolence +toward all, which cannot be acquired artificially and therefore +inspires involuntary respect. He entered his wife's drawing room as +one enters a theater, was acquainted with everybody, equally pleased +to see everyone, and equally indifferent to them all. Sometimes he +joined in a conversation which interested him and, regardless of +whether any "gentlemen of the embassy" were present or not, +lispingly expressed his views, which were sometimes not at all in +accord with the accepted tone of the moment. But the general opinion +concerning the queer husband of "the most distinguished woman in +Petersburg" was so well established that no one took his freaks +seriously. + +Among the many young men who frequented her house every day, Boris +Drubetskoy, who had already achieved great success in the service, was +the most intimate friend of the Bezukhov household since Helene's +return from Erfurt. Helene spoke of him as "mon page" and treated +him like a child. Her smile for him was the same as for everybody, but +sometimes that smile made Pierre uncomfortable. Toward him Boris +behaved with a particularly dignified and sad deference. This shade of +deference also disturbed Pierre. He had suffered so painfully three +years before from the mortification to which his wife had subjected +him that he now protected himself from the danger of its repetition, +first by not being a husband to his wife, and secondly by not allowing +himself to suspect. + +"No, now that she has become a bluestocking she has finally +renounced her former infatuations," he told himself. "There has +never been an instance of a bluestocking being carried away by affairs +of the heart"--a statement which, though gathered from an unknown +source, he believed implicitly. Yet strange to say Boris' presence +in his wife's drawing room (and he was almost always there) had a +physical effect upon Pierre; it constricted his limbs and destroyed +the unconsciousness and freedom of his movements. + +"What a strange antipathy," thought Pierre, "yet I used to like +him very much." + +In the eyes of the world Pierre was a great gentleman, the rather +blind and absurd husband of a distinguished wife, a clever crank who +did nothing but harmed nobody and was a first-rate, good-natured +fellow. But a complex and difficult process of internal development +was taking place all this time in Pierre's soul, revealing much to him +and causing him many spiritual doubts and joys. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Pierre went on with his diary, and this is what he wrote in it +during that time: + + +24th November + +Got up at eight, read the Scriptures, then went to my duties. [By +Joseph Alexeevich's advice Pierre had entered the service of the state +and served on one of the committees.] Returned home for dinner and +dined alone--the countess had many visitors I do not like. I ate and +drank moderately and after dinner copied out some passages for the +Brothers. In the evening I went down to the countess and told a +funny story about B., and only remembered that I ought not to have +done so when everybody laughed loudly at it. + +I am going to bed with a happy and tranquil mind. Great God, help me +to walk in Thy paths, (1) to conquer anger by calmness and +deliberation, (2) to vanquish lust by self-restraint and repulsion, +(3) to withdraw from worldliness, but not avoid (a) the service of the +state, (b) family duties, (c) relations with my friends, and the +management of my affairs. + + +27th November + +I got up late. On waking I lay long in bed yielding to sloth. O God, +help and strengthen me that I may walk in Thy ways! Read the +Scriptures, but without proper feeling. Brother Urusov came and we +talked about worldly vanities. He told me of the Emperor's new +projects. I began to criticize them, but remembered my rules and my +benefactor's words--that a true Freemason should be a zealous worker +for the state when his aid is required and a quiet onlooker when not +called on to assist. My tongue is my enemy. Brothers G. V. and O. +visited me and we had a preliminary talk about the reception of a +new Brother. They laid on me the duty of Rhetor. I feel myself weak +and unworthy. Then our talk turned to the interpretation of the +seven pillars and steps of the Temple, the seven sciences, the seven +virtues, the seven vices, and the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. +Brother O. was very eloquent. In the evening the admission took place. +The new decoration of the Premises contributed much to the +magnificence of the spectacle. It was Boris Drubetskoy who was +admitted. I nominated him and was the Rhetor. A strange feeling +agitated me all the time I was alone with him in the dark chamber. I +caught myself harboring a feeling of hatred toward him which I +vainly tried to overcome. That is why I should really like to save him +from evil and lead him into the path of truth, but evil thoughts of +him did not leave me. It seemed to me that his object in entering +the Brotherhood was merely to be intimate and in favor with members of +our lodge. Apart from the fact that he had asked me several times +whether N. and S. were members of our lodge (a question to which I +could not reply) and that according to my observation he is +incapable of feeling respect for our holy order and is too preoccupied +and satisfied with the outer man to desire spiritual improvement, I +had no cause to doubt him, but he seemed to me insincere, and all +the time I stood alone with him in the dark temple it seemed to me +that he was smiling contemptuously at my words, and I wished really to +stab his bare breast with the sword I held to it. I could not be +eloquent, nor could I frankly mention my doubts to the Brothers and to +the Grand Master. Great Architect of Nature, help me to find the +true path out of the labyrinth of lies! + + + After this, three pages were left blank in the diary, and then +the following was written: + + +I have had a long and instructive talk alone with Brother V., who +advised me to hold fast by brother A. Though I am unworthy, much was +revealed to me. Adonai is the name of the creator of the world. Elohim +is the name of the ruler of all. The third name is the name +unutterable which means the All. Talks with Brother V. strengthen, +refresh, and support me in the path of virtue. In his presence doubt +has no place. The distinction between the poor teachings of mundane +science and our sacred all-embracing teaching is clear to me. Human +sciences dissect everything to comprehend it, and kill everything to +examine it. In the holy science of our order all is one, all is +known in its entirety and life. The Trinity--the three elements of +matter--are sulphur, mercury, and salt. Sulphur is of an oily and +fiery nature; in combination with salt by its fiery nature it +arouses a desire in the latter by means of which it attracts +mercury, seizes it, holds it, and in combination produces other +bodies. Mercury is a fluid, volatile, spiritual essence. Christ, the +Holy Spirit, Him!... + + +3rd December + +Awoke late, read the Scriptures but was apathetic. Afterwards went +and paced up and down the large hall. I wished to meditate, but +instead my imagination pictured an occurrence of four years ago, +when Dolokhov, meeting me in Moscow after our duel, said he hoped I +was enjoying perfect peace of mind in spite of my wife's absence. At +the time I gave him no answer. Now I recalled every detail of that +meeting and in my mind gave him the most malevolent and bitter +replies. I recollected myself and drove away that thought only when +I found myself glowing with anger, but I did not sufficiently +repent. Afterwards Boris Drubetskoy came and began relating various +adventures. His coming vexed me from the first, and I said something +disagreeable to him. He replied. I flared up and said much that was +unpleasant and even rude to him. He became silent, and I recollected +myself only when it was too late. My God, I cannot get on with him +at all. The cause of this is my egotism. I set myself above him and so +become much worse than he, for he is lenient to my rudeness while I on +the contrary nourish contempt for him. O God, grant that in his +presence I may rather see my own vileness, and behave so that he too +may benefit. After dinner I fell asleep and as I was drowsing off I +clearly heard a voice saying in my left ear, "Thy day!" + +I dreamed that I was walking in the dark and was suddenly surrounded +by dogs, but I went on undismayed. Suddenly a smallish dog seized my +left thigh with its teeth and would not let go. I began to throttle it +with my hands. Scarcely had I torn it off before another, a bigger +one, began biting me. I lifted it up, but the higher I lifted it the +bigger and heavier it grew. And suddenly Brother A. came and, taking +my arm, led me to a building to enter which we had to pass along a +narrow plank. I stepped on it, but it bent and gave way and I began to +clamber up a fence which I could scarcely reach with my hands. After +much effort I dragged myself up, so that my leg hung down on one +side and my body on the other. I looked round and saw Brother A. +standing on the fence and pointing me to a broad avenue and garden, +and in the garden was a large and beautiful building. I woke up. O +Lord, great Architect of Nature, help me to tear from myself these +dogs--my passions especially the last, which unites in itself the +strength of all the former ones, and aid me to enter that temple of +virtue to a vision of which I attained in my dream. + + +7th December + +I dreamed that Joseph Alexeevich was sitting in my house, and that I +was very glad and wished to entertain him. It seemed as if I chattered +incessantly with other people and suddenly remembered that this +could not please him, and I wished to come close to him and embrace +him. But as soon as I drew near I saw that his face had changed and +grown young, and he was quietly telling me something about the +teaching of our order, but so softly that I could not hear it. Then it +seemed that we all left the room and something strange happened. We +were sitting or lying on the floor. He was telling me something, and I +wished to show him my sensibility, and not listening to what he was +saying I began picturing to myself the condition of my inner man and +the grace of God sanctifying me. And tears came into my eyes, and I +was glad he noticed this. But he looked at me with vexation and jumped +up, breaking off his remarks. I felt abashed and asked whether what he +had been saying did not concern me; but he did not reply, gave me a +kind look, and then we suddenly found ourselves in my bedroom where +there is a double bed. He lay down on the edge of it and I burned with +longing to caress him and lie down too. And he said, "Tell me +frankly what is your chief temptation? Do you know it? I think you +know it already." Abashed by this question, I replied that sloth was +my chief temptation. He shook his head incredulously; and even more +abashed, I said that though I was living with my wife as he advised, I +was not living with her as her husband. To this he replied that one +should not deprive a wife of one's embraces and gave me to +understand that that was my duty. But I replied that I should be +ashamed to do it, and suddenly everything vanished. And I awoke and +found in my mind the text from the Gospel: "The life was the light +of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness +comprehended it not." Joseph Alexeevich's face had looked young and +bright. That day I received a letter from my benefactor in which he +wrote about "conjugal duties." + + +9th December + +I had a dream from which I awoke with a throbbing heart. I saw +that I was in Moscow in my house, in the big sitting room, and +Joseph Alexeevich came in from the drawing room. I seemed to know at +once that the process of regeneration had already taken place in +him, and I rushed to meet him. I embraced him and kissed his hands, +and he said, "Hast thou noticed that my face is different?" I looked +at him, still holding him in my arms, and saw that his face was young, +but that he had no hair on his head and his features were quite +changed. And I said, "I should have known you had I met you by +chance," and I thought to myself, "Am I telling the truth?" And +suddenly I saw him lying like a dead body; then he gradually recovered +and went with me into my study carrying a large book of sheets of +drawing paper; I said, "I drew that," and he answered by bowing his +head. I opened the book, and on all the pages there were excellent +drawings. And in my dream I knew that these drawings represented the +love adventures of the soul with its beloved. And on its pages I saw a +beautiful representation of a maiden in transparent garments and +with a transparent body, flying up to the clouds. And I seemed to know +that this maiden was nothing else than a representation of the Song of +Songs. And looking at those drawings I dreamed I felt that I was doing +wrong, but could not tear myself away from them. Lord, help me! My +God, if Thy forsaking me is Thy doing, Thy will be done; but if I am +myself the cause, teach me what I should do! I shall perish of my +debauchery if Thou utterly desertest me! + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +The Rostovs' monetary affairs had not improved during the two +years they had spent in the country. + +Though Nicholas Rostov had kept firmly to his resolution and was +still serving modestly in an obscure regiment, spending +comparatively little, the way of life at Otradnoe--Mitenka's +management of affairs, in particular--was such that the debts +inevitably increased every year. The only resource obviously +presenting itself to the old count was to apply for an official +post, so he had come to Petersburg to look for one and also, as he +said, to let the lassies enjoy themselves for the last time. + +Soon after their arrival in Petersburg Berg proposed to Vera and was +accepted. + +Though in Moscow the Rostovs belonged to the best society without +themselves giving it a thought, yet in Petersburg their circle of +acquaintances was a mixed and indefinite one. In Petersburg they +were provincials, and the very people they had entertained in Moscow +without inquiring to what set they belonged, here looked down on them. + +The Rostovs lived in the same hospitable way in Petersburg as in +Moscow, and the most diverse people met at their suppers. Country +neighbors from Otradnoe, impoverished old squires and their daughters, +Peronskaya a maid of honor, Pierre Bezukhov, and the son of their +district postmaster who had obtained a post in Petersburg. Among the +men who very soon became frequent visitors at the Rostovs' house in +Petersburg were Boris, Pierre whom the count had met in the street and +dragged home with him, and Berg who spent whole days at the Rostovs' +and paid the eldest daughter, Countess Vera, the attentions a young +man pays when he intends to propose. + +Not in vain had Berg shown everybody his right hand wounded at +Austerlitz and held a perfectly unnecessary sword in his left. He +narrated that episode so persistently and with so important an air +that everyone believed in the merit and usefulness of his deed, and he +had obtained two decorations for Austerlitz. + +In the Finnish war he also managed to distinguish himself. He had +picked up the scrap of a grenade that had killed an aide-de-camp +standing near the commander in chief and had taken it to his +commander. Just as he had done after Austerlitz, he related this +occurrence at such length and so insistently that everyone again +believed it had been necessary to do this, and he received two +decorations for the Finnish war also. In 1809 he was a captain in +the Guards, wore medals, and held some special lucrative posts in +Petersburg. + +Though some skeptics smiled when told of Berg's merits, it could not +be denied that he was a painstaking and brave officer, on excellent +terms with his superiors, and a moral young man with a brilliant +career before him and an assured position in society. + +Four years before, meeting a German comrade in the stalls of a +Moscow theater, Berg had pointed out Vera Rostova to him and had +said in German, "das soll mein Weib werden,"* and from that moment had +made up his mind to marry her. Now in Petersburg, having considered +the Rostovs' position and his own, he decided that the time had come +to propose. + + +*"That girl shall be my wife." + + +Berg's proposal was at first received with a perplexity that was not +flattering to him. At first it seemed strange that the son of an +obscure Livonian gentleman should propose marriage to a Countess +Rostova; but Berg's chief characteristic was such a naive and good +natured egotism that the Rostovs involuntarily came to think it +would be a good thing, since he himself was so firmly convinced that +it was good, indeed excellent. Moreover, the Rostovs' affairs were +seriously embarrassed, as the suitor could not but know; and above +all, Vera was twenty-four, had been taken out everywhere, and though +she was certainly good-looking and sensible, no one up to now had +proposed to her. So they gave their consent. + +"You see," said Berg to his comrade, whom he called "friend" only +because he knew that everyone has friends, "you see, I have considered +it all, and should not marry if I had not thought it all out or if +it were in any way unsuitable. But on the contrary, my papa and +mamma are now provided for--I have arranged that rent for them in +the Baltic Provinces--and I can live in Petersburg on my pay, and with +her fortune and my good management we can get along nicely. I am not +marrying for money--I consider that dishonorable--but a wife should +bring her share and a husband his. I have my position in the +service, she has connections and some means. In our times that is +worth something, isn't it? But above all, she is a handsome, estimable +girl, and she loves me..." + +Berg blushed and smiled. + +"And I love her, because her character is sensible and very good. +Now the other sister, though they are the same family, is quite +different--an unpleasant character and has not the same +intelligence. She is so... you know?... Unpleasant... But my +fiancee!... Well, you will be coming," he was going to say, "to dine," +but changed his mind and said "to take tea with us," and quickly +doubling up his tongue he blew a small round ring of tobacco smoke, +perfectly embodying his dream of happiness. + +After the first feeling of perplexity aroused in the parents by +Berg's proposal, the holiday tone of joyousness usual at such times +took possession of the family, but the rejoicing was external and +insincere. In the family's feeling toward this wedding a certain +awkwardness and constraint was evident, as if they were ashamed of not +having loved Vera sufficiently and of being so ready to get her off +their hands. The old count felt this most. He would probably have been +unable to state the cause of his embarrassment, but it resulted from +the state of his affairs. He did not know at all how much he had, what +his debts amounted to, or what dowry he could give Vera. When his +daughters were born he had assigned to each of them, for her dowry, an +estate with three hundred serfs; but one of these estates had +already been sold, and the other was mortgaged and the interest so +much in arrears that it would have to be sold, so that it was +impossible to give it to Vera. Nor had he any money. + +Berg had already been engaged a month, and only a week remained +before the wedding, but the count had not yet decided in his own +mind the question of the dowry, nor spoken to his wife about it. At +one time the count thought of giving her the Ryazan estate or of +selling a forest, at another time of borrowing money on a note of +hand. A few days before the wedding Berg entered the count's study +early one morning and, with a pleasant smile, respectfully asked his +future father-in-law to let him know what Vera's dowry would be. The +count was so disconcerted by this long-foreseen inquiry that without +consideration he gave the first reply that came into his head. "I like +your being businesslike about it.... I like it. You shall be +satisfied...." + +And patting Berg on the shoulder he got up, wishing to end the +conversation. But Berg, smiling pleasantly, explained that if he did +not know for certain how much Vera would have and did not receive at +least part of the dowry in advance, he would have to break matters +off. + +"Because, consider, Count--if I allowed myself to marry now +without having definite means to maintain my wife, I should be +acting badly...." + +The conversation ended by the count, who wished to be generous and +to avoid further importunity, saying that he would give a note of hand +for eighty thousand rubles. Berg smiled meekly, kissed the count on +the shoulder, and said that he was very grateful, but that it was +impossible for him to arrange his new life without receiving thirty +thousand in ready money. "Or at least twenty thousand, Count," he +added, "and then a note of hand for only sixty thousand." + +"Yes, yes, all right!" said the count hurriedly. "Only excuse me, my +dear fellow, I'll give you twenty thousand and a note of hand for +eighty thousand as well. Yes, yes! Kiss me." + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Natasha was sixteen and it was the year 1809, the very year to which +she had counted on her fingers with Boris after they had kissed four +years ago. Since then she had not seen him. Before Sonya and her +mother, if Boris happened to be mentioned, she spoke quite freely of +that episode as of some childish, long-forgotten matter that was not +worth mentioning. But in the secret depths of her soul the question +whether her engagement to Boris was a jest or an important, binding +promise tormented her. + +Since Boris left Moscow in 1805 to join the army he had not seen +the Rostovs. He had been in Moscow several times, and had passed +near Otradnoe, but had never been to see them. + +Sometimes it occurred to Natasha that he did not wish to see her, and +this conjecture was confirmed by the sad tone in which her elders +spoke of him. + +"Nowadays old friends are not remembered," the countess would say +when Boris was mentioned. + +Anna Mikhaylovna also had of late visited them less frequently, +seemed to hold herself with particular dignity, and always spoke +rapturously and gratefully of the merits of her son and the +brilliant career on which he had entered. When the Rostovs came to +Petersburg Boris called on them. + +He drove to their house in some agitation. The memory of Natasha was +his most poetic recollection. But he went with the firm intention of +letting her and her parents feel that the childish relations between +himself and Natasha could not be binding either on her or on him. He +had a brilliant position in society thanks to his intimacy with +Countess Bezukhova, a brilliant position in the service thanks to +the patronage of an important personage whose complete confidence he +enjoyed, and he was beginning to make plans for marrying one of the +richest heiresses in Petersburg, plans which might very easily be +realized. When he entered the Rostovs' drawing room Natasha was in her +own room. When she heard of his arrival she almost ran into the +drawing room, flushed and beaming with a more than cordial smile. + +Boris remembered Natasha in a short dress, with dark eyes shining +from under her curls and boisterous, childish laughter, as he had +known her four years before; and so he was taken aback when quite a +different Natasha entered, and his face expressed rapturous +astonishment. This expression on his face pleased Natasha. + +"Well, do you recognize your little madcap playmate?" asked the +countess. + +Boris kissed Natasha's hand and said that he was astonished at the +change in her. + +"How handsome you have grown!" + +"I should think so!" replied Natasha's laughing eyes. + +"And is Papa older?" she asked. + +Natasha sat down and, without joining in Boris' conversation with +the countess, silently and minutely studied her childhood's suitor. He +felt the weight of that resolute and affectionate scrutiny and glanced +at her occasionally. + +Boris' uniform, spurs, tie, and the way his hair was brushed were +all comme il faut and in the latest fashion. This Natasha noticed at +once. He sat rather sideways in the armchair next to the countess, +arranging with his right hand the cleanest of gloves that fitted his +left hand like a skin, and he spoke with a particularly refined +compression of his lips about the amusements of the highest Petersburg +society, recalling with mild irony old times in Moscow and Moscow +acquaintances. It was not accidentally, Natasha felt, that he alluded, +when speaking of the highest aristocracy, to an ambassador's ball he +had attended, and to invitations he had received from N.N. and S.S. + +All this time Natasha sat silent, glancing up at him from under her +brows. This gaze disturbed and confused Boris more and more. He looked +round more frequently toward her, and broke off in what he was saying. +He did not stay more than ten minutes, then rose and took his leave. +The same inquisitive, challenging, and rather mocking eyes still +looked at him. After his first visit Boris said to himself that +Natasha attracted him just as much as ever, but that he must not yield +to that feeling, because to marry her, a girl almost without fortune, +would mean ruin to his career, while to renew their former relations +without intending to marry her would be dishonorable. Boris made up +his mind to avoid meeting Natasha, but despite that resolution he +called again a few days later and began calling often and spending +whole days at the Rostovs'. It seemed to him that he ought to have an +explanation with Natasha and tell her that the old times must be +forgotten, that in spite of everything... she could not be his wife, +that he had no means, and they would never let her marry him. But he +failed to do so and felt awkward about entering on such an +explanation. From day to day he became more and more entangled. It +seemed to her mother and Sonya that Natasha was in love with Boris as +of old. She sang him his favorite songs, showed him her album, making +him write in it, did not allow him to allude to the past, letting it +be understood how delightful was the present; and every day he went +away in a fog, without having said what he meant to, and not knowing +what he was doing or why he came, or how it would all end. He left off +visiting Helene and received reproachful notes from her every day, and +yet he continued to spend whole days with the Rostovs. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +One night when the old countess, in nightcap and dressing jacket, +without her false curls, and with her poor little knob of hair showing +under her white cotton cap, knelt sighing and groaning on a rug and +bowing to the ground in prayer, her door creaked and Natasha, also +in a dressing jacket with slippers on her bare feet and her hair in +curlpapers, ran in. The countess--her prayerful mood dispelled--looked +round and frowned. She was finishing her last prayer: "Can it be +that this couch will be my grave?" Natasha, flushed and eager, +seeing her mother in prayer, suddenly checked her rush, half sat down, +and unconsciously put out her tongue as if chiding herself. Seeing +that her mother was still praying she ran on tiptoe to the bed and, +rapidly slipping one little foot against the other, pushed off her +slippers and jumped onto the bed the countess had feared might +become her grave. This couch was high, with a feather bed and five +pillows each smaller than the one below. Natasha jumped on it, sank +into the feather bed, rolled over to the wall, and began snuggling +up the bedclothes as she settled down, raising her knees to her +chin, kicking out and laughing almost inaudibly, now covering +herself up head and all, and now peeping at her mother. The countess +finished her prayers and came to the bed with a stern face, but +seeing, that Natasha's head was covered, she smiled in her kind, +weak way. + +"Now then, now then!" said she. + +"Mamma, can we have a talk? Yes?" said Natasha. "Now, just one on +your throat and another... that'll do!" And seizing her mother round +the neck, she kissed her on the throat. In her behavior to her +mother Natasha seemed rough, but she was so sensitive and tactful that +however she clasped her mother she always managed to do it without +hurting her or making her feel uncomfortable or displeased. + +"Well, what is it tonight?" said the mother, having arranged her +pillows and waited until Natasha, after turning over a couple of +times, had settled down beside her under the quilt, spread out her +arms, and assumed a serious expression. + +These visits of Natasha's at night before the count returned from +his club were one of the greatest pleasures of both mother, and +daughter. + +"What is it tonight?--But I have to tell you..." + +Natasha put her hand on her mother's mouth. + +"About Boris... I know," she said seriously; "that's what I have +come about. Don't say it--I know. No, do tell me!" and she removed her +hand. "Tell me, Mamma! He's nice?" + +"Natasha, you are sixteen. At your age I was married. You say +Boris is nice. He is very nice, and I love him like a son. But what +then?... What are you thinking about? You have quite turned his +head, I can see that...." + +As she said this the countess looked round at her daughter. +Natasha was lying looking steadily straight before her at one of the +mahogany sphinxes carved on the corners of the bedstead, so that the +countess only saw her daughter's face in profile. That face struck her +by its peculiarly serious and concentrated expression. + +Natasha was listening and considering. + +"Well, what then?" said she. + +"You have quite turned his head, and why? What do you want of him? +You know you can't marry him." + +"Why not?" said Natasha, without changing her position. + +"Because he is young, because he is poor, because he is a +relation... and because you yourself don't love him." + +"How do you know?" + +"I know. It is not right, darling!" + + "But if I want to..." said Natasha. + +"Leave off talking nonsense," said the countess. + +"But if I want to..." + +"Natasha, I am in earnest..." + +Natasha did not let her finish. She drew the countess' large hand to +her, kissed it on the back and then on the palm, then again turned +it over and began kissing first one knuckle, then the space between +the knuckles, then the next knuckle, whispering, "January, February, +March, April, May. Speak, Mamma, why don't you say anything? Speak!" +said she, turning to her mother, who was tenderly gazing at her +daughter and in that contemplation seemed to have forgotten all she +had wished to say. + +"It won't do, my love! Not everyone will understand this +friendship dating from your childish days, and to see him so +intimate with you may injure you in the eyes of other young men who +visit us, and above all it torments him for nothing. He may already +have found a suitable and wealthy match, and now he's half crazy." + +"Crazy?" repeated Natasha. + +"I'll tell you some things about myself. I had a cousin..." + +"I know! Cyril Matveich... but he is old." + +"He was not always old. But this is what I'll do, Natasha, I'll have +a talk with Boris. He need not come so often...." + +"Why not, if he likes to?" + +"Because I know it will end in nothing...." + +"How can you know? No, Mamma, don't speak to him! What nonsense!" +said Natasha in the tone of one being deprived of her property. "Well, +I won't marry, but let him come if he enjoys it and I enjoy it." +Natasha smiled and looked at her mother. "Not to marry, but just +so," she added. + +"How so, my pet?" + +"Just so. There's no need for me to marry him. But... just so." + +"Just so, just so," repeated the countess, and shaking all over, she +went off into a good humored, unexpected, elderly laugh. + +"Don't laugh, stop!" cried Natasha. "You're shaking the whole bed! +You're awfully like me, just such another giggler.... Wait..." and she +seized the countess' hands and kissed a knuckle of the little +finger, saying, "June," and continued, kissing, "July, August," on the +other hand. "But, Mamma, is he very much in love? What do you think? +Was anybody ever so much in love with you? And he's very nice, very, +very nice. Only not quite my taste--he is so narrow, like the +dining-room clock.... Don't you understand? Narrow, you know--gray, +light gray..." + +"What rubbish you're talking!" said the countess. + +Natasha continued: "Don't you really understand? Nicholas would +understand.... Bezukhov, now, is blue, dark-blue and red, and he is +square." + +"You flirt with him too," said the countess, laughing. + +"No, he is a Freemason, I have found out. He is fine, dark-blue +and red.... How can I explain it to you?" + +"Little countess!" the count's voice called from behind the door. +"You're not asleep?" Natasha jumped up, snatched up her slippers, +and ran barefoot to her own room. + +It was a long time before she could sleep. She kept thinking that no +one could understand all that she understood and all there was in her. + +"Sonya?" she thought, glancing at that curled-up, sleeping little +kitten with her enormous plait of hair. "No, how could she? She's +virtuous. She fell in love with Nicholas and does not wish to know +anything more. Even Mamma does not understand. It is wonderful how +clever I am and how... charming she is," she went on, speaking of +herself in the third person, and imagining it was some very wise +man--the wisest and best of men--who was saying it of her. "There is +everything, everything in her," continued this man. "She is +unusually intelligent, charming... and then she is pretty, +uncommonly pretty, and agile--she swims and rides splendidly... and +her voice! One can really say it's a wonderful voice!" + +She hummed a scrap from her favorite opera by Cherubini, threw +herself on her bed, laughed at the pleasant thought that she would +immediately fall asleep, called Dunyasha the maid to put out the +candle, and before Dunyasha had left the room had already passed +into yet another happier world of dreams, where everything was as +light and beautiful as in reality, and even more so because it was +different. + + +Next day the countess called Boris aside and had a talk with him, +after which he ceased coming to the Rostovs'. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +On the thirty-first of December, New Year's Eve, 1809 --10 an old +grandee of Catherine's day was giving a ball and midnight supper. +The diplomatic corps and the Emperor himself were to be present. + +The grandee's well-known mansion on the English Quay glittered +with innumerable lights. Police were stationed at the brightly lit +entrance which was carpeted with red baize, and not only gendarmes but +dozens of police officers and even the police master himself stood +at the porch. Carriages kept driving away and fresh ones arriving, +with red-liveried footmen and footmen in plumed hats. From the +carriages emerged men wearing uniforms, stars, and ribbons, while +ladies in satin and ermine cautiously descended the carriage steps +which were let down for them with a clatter, and then walked hurriedly +and noiselessly over the baize at the entrance. + +Almost every time a new carriage drove up a whisper ran through +the crowd and caps were doffed. + +"The Emperor?... No, a minister.... prince... ambassador. Don't +you see the plumes?..." was whispered among the crowd. + +One person, better dressed than the rest, seemed to know everyone +and mentioned by name the greatest dignitaries of the day. + +A third of the visitors had already arrived, but the Rostovs, who +were to be present, were still hurrying to get dressed. + +There had been many discussions and preparations for this ball in +the Rostov family, many fears that the invitation would not arrive, +that the dresses would not be ready, or that something would not be +arranged as it should be. + +Marya Ignatevna Peronskaya, a thin and shallow maid of honor at +the court of the Dowager Empress, who was a friend and relation of the +countess and piloted the provincial Rostovs in Petersburg high +society, was to accompany them to the ball. + +They were to call for her at her house in the Taurida Gardens at ten +o'clock, but it was already five minutes to ten, and the girls were +not yet dressed. + +Natasha was going to her first grand ball. She had got up at eight +that morning and had been in a fever of excitement and activity all +day. All her powers since morning had been concentrated on ensuring +that they all--she herself, Mamma, and Sonya--should be as well +dressed as possible. Sonya and her mother put themselves entirely in +her hands. The countess was to wear a claret-colored velvet dress, and +the two girls white gauze over pink silk slips, with roses on their +bodices and their hair dressed a la grecque. + +Everything essential had already been done; feet, hands, necks, +and ears washed, perfumed, and powdered, as befits a ball; the +openwork silk stockings and white satin shoes with ribbons were +already on; the hairdressing was almost done. Sonya was finishing +dressing and so was the countess, but Natasha, who had bustled about +helping them all, was behindhand. She was still sitting before a +looking-glass with a dressing jacket thrown over her slender +shoulders. Sonya stood ready dressed in the middle of the room and, +pressing the head of a pin till it hurt her dainty finger, was +fixing on a last ribbon that squeaked as the pin went through it. + +"That's not the way, that's not the way, Sonya!" cried Natasha +turning her head and clutching with both hands at her hair which the +maid who was dressing it had not time to release. "That bow is not +right. Come here!" + +Sonya sat down and Natasha pinned the ribbon on differently. + +"Allow me, Miss! I can't do it like that," said the maid who was +holding Natasha's hair. + +"Oh, dear! Well then, wait. That's right, Sonya." + +"Aren't you ready? It is nearly ten," came the countess' voice. + +"Directly! Directly! And you, Mamma?" + +"I have only my cap to pin on." + +"Don't do it without me!" called Natasha. "You won't do it right." + +"But it's already ten." + +They had decided to be at the ball by half past ten, and Natasha had +still to get dressed and they had to call at the Taurida Gardens. + +When her hair was done, Natasha, in her short petticoat from under +which her dancing shoes showed, and in her mother's dressing jacket, +ran up to Sonya, scrutinized her, and then ran to her mother. +Turning her mother's head this way and that, she fastened on the cap +and, hurriedly kissing her gray hair, ran back to the maids who were +turning up the hem of her skirt. + +The cause of the delay was Natasha's skirt, which was too long. +Two maids were turning up the hem and hurriedly biting off the ends of +thread. A third with pins in her mouth was running about between the +countess and Sonya, and a fourth held the whole of the gossamer +garment up high on one uplifted hand. + +"Mavra, quicker, darling!" + +"Give me my thimble, Miss, from there..." + +"Whenever will you be ready?" asked the count coming to the door. +"Here is some scent. Peronskaya must be tired of waiting." + +"It's ready, Miss," said the maid, holding up the shortened gauze +dress with two fingers, and blowing and shaking something off it, as +if by this to express a consciousness of the airiness and purity of +what she held. + +Natasha began putting on the dress. + +"In a minute! In a minute! Don't come in, Papa!" she cried to her +father as he opened the door--speaking from under the filmy skirt +which still covered her whole face. + +Sonya slammed the door to. A minute later they let the count in. +He was wearing a blue swallow-tail coat, shoes and stockings, and +was perfumed and his hair pomaded. + +"Oh, Papa! how nice you look! Charming!" cried Natasha, as she stood +in the middle of the room smoothing out the folds of the gauze. + +"If you please, Miss! allow me," said the maid, who on her knees was +pulling the skirt straight and shifting the pins from one side of +her mouth to the other with her tongue. + +"Say what you like," exclaimed Sonya, in a despairing voice as she +looked at Natasha, "say what you like, it's still too long." + +Natasha stepped back to look at herself in the pier glass. The dress +was too long. + +"Really, madam, it is not at all too long," said Mavra, crawling +on her knees after her young lady. + +"Well, if it's too long we'll take it up... we'll tack it up in +one minute," said the resolute Dunyasha taking a needle that was stuck +on the front of her little shawl and, still kneeling on the floor, set +to work once more. + +At that moment, with soft steps, the countess came in shyly, in +her cap and velvet gown. + +"Oo-oo, my beauty!" exclaimed the count, "she looks better than +any of you!" + +He would have embraced her but, blushing, she stepped aside +fearing to be rumpled. + +"Mamma, your cap, more to this side," said Natasha. "I'll arrange +it," and she rushed forward so that the maids who were tacking up +her skirt could not move fast enough and a piece of gauze was torn +off. + +"Oh goodness! What has happened? Really it was not my fault!" + +"Never mind, I'll run it up, it won't show," said Dunyasha. + +"What a beauty--a very queen!" said the nurse as she came to the +door. "And Sonya! They are lovely!" + +At a quarter past ten they at last got into their carriages and +started. But they had still to call at the Taurida Gardens. + +Peronskaya was quite ready. In spite of her age and plainness she +had gone through the same process as the Rostovs, but with less +flurry--for to her it was a matter of routine. Her ugly old body was +washed, perfumed, and powdered in just the same way. She had washed +behind her ears just as carefully, and when she entered her drawing +room in her yellow dress, wearing her badge as maid of honor, her +old lady's maid was as full of rapturous admiration as the Rostovs' +servants had been. + +She praised the Rostovs' toilets. They praised her taste and toilet, +and at eleven o'clock, careful of their coiffures and dresses, they +settled themselves in their carriages and drove off. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Natasha had not had a moment free since early morning and had not +once had time to think of what lay before her. + +In the damp chill air and crowded closeness of the swaying carriage, +she for the first time vividly imagined what was in store for her +there at the ball, in those brightly lighted rooms--with music, +flowers, dances, the Emperor, and all the brilliant young people of +Petersburg. The prospect was so splendid that she hardly believed it +would come true, so out of keeping was it with the chill darkness +and closeness of the carriage. She understood all that awaited her +only when, after stepping over the red baize at the entrance, she +entered the hall, took off her fur cloak, and, beside Sonya and in +front of her mother, mounted the brightly illuminated stairs between +the flowers. Only then did she remember how she must behave at a ball, +and tried to assume the majestic air she considered indispensable +for a girl on such an occasion. But, fortunately for her, she felt her +eyes growing misty, she saw nothing clearly, her pulse beat a +hundred to the minute, and the blood throbbed at her heart. She +could not assume that pose, which would have made her ridiculous, +and she moved on almost fainting from excitement and trying with all +her might to conceal it. And this was the very attitude that became +her best. Before and behind them other visitors were entering, also +talking in low tones and wearing ball dresses. The mirrors on the +landing reflected ladies in white, pale-blue, and pink dresses, with +diamonds and pearls on their bare necks and arms. + +Natasha looked in the mirrors and could not distinguish her +reflection from the others. All was blended into one brilliant +procession. On entering the ballroom the regular hum of voices, +footsteps, and greetings deafened Natasha, and the light and glitter +dazzled her still more. The host and hostess, who had already been +standing at the door for half an hour repeating the same words to +the various arrivals, "Charme de vous voir,"* greeted the Rostovs +and Peronskaya in the same manner. + + +*"Delighted to see you." + + +The two girls in their white dresses, each with a rose in her +black hair, both curtsied in the same way, but the hostess' eye +involuntarily rested longer on the slim Natasha. She looked at her and +gave her alone a special smile in addition to her usual smile as +hostess. Looking at her she may have recalled the golden, +irrecoverable days of her own girlhood and her own first ball. The +host also followed Natasha with his eyes and asked the count which was +his daughter. + +"Charming!" said he, kissing the tips of his fingers. + +In the ballroom guests stood crowding at the entrance doors awaiting +the Emperor. The countess took up a position in one of the front +rows of that crowd. Natasha heard and felt that several people were +asking about her and looking at her. She realized that those +noticing her liked her, and this observation helped to calm her. + +"There are some like ourselves and some worse," she thought. + +Peronskaya was pointing out to the countess the most important +people at the ball. + +"That is the Dutch ambassador, do you see? That gray-haired man," +she said, indicating an old man with a profusion of silver-gray +curly hair, who was surrounded by ladies laughing at something he +said. + +"Ah, here she is, the Queen of Petersburg, Countess Bezukhova," said +Peronskaya, indicating Helene who had just entered. "How lovely! She +is quite equal to Marya Antonovna. See how the men, young and old, pay +court to her. Beautiful and clever... they say Prince--is quite mad +about her. But see, those two, though not good-looking, are even +more run after." + +She pointed to a lady who was crossing the room followed by a very +plain daughter. + +"She is a splendid match, a millionairess," said Peronskaya. "And +look, here come her suitors." + +"That is Bezukhova's brother, Anatole Kuragin," she said, indicating +a handsome officer of the Horse Guards who passed by them with head +erect, looking at something over the heads of the ladies. "He's +handsome, isn't he? I hear they will marry him to that rich girl. +But your cousin, Drubetskoy, is also very attentive to her. They say +she has millions. Oh yes, that's the French ambassador himself!" she +replied to the countess' inquiry about Caulaincourt. "Looks as if he +were a king! All the same, the French are charming, very charming. +No one more charming in society. Ah, here she is! Yes, she is still +the most beautiful of them all, our Marya Antonovna! And how simply +she is dressed! Lovely! And that stout one in spectacles is the +universal Freemason," she went on, indicating Pierre. "Put him +beside his wife and he looks a regular buffoon!" + +Pierre, swaying his stout body, advanced, making way through the +crowd and nodding to right and left as casually and good-naturedly +as if he were passing through a crowd at a fair. He pushed through, +evidently looking for someone. + +Natasha looked joyfully at the familiar face of Pierre, "the +buffoon," as Peronskaya had called him, and knew he was looking for +them, and for her in particular. He had promised to be at the ball and +introduce partners to her. + +But before he reached them Pierre stopped beside a very handsome, +dark man of middle height, and in a white uniform, who stood by a +window talking to a tall man wearing stars and a ribbon. Natasha at +once recognized the shorter and younger man in the white uniform: it +was Bolkonski, who seemed to her to have grown much younger, +happier, and better-looking. + +"There's someone else we know--Bolkonski, do you see, Mamma?" said +Natasha, pointing out Prince Andrew. "You remember, he stayed a +night with us at Otradnoe." + +"Oh, you know him?" said Peronskaya. "I can't bear him. Il fait a +present la pluie et le beau temps.* He's too proud for anything. +Takes after his father. And he's hand in glove with Speranski, writing +some project or other. Just look how he treats the ladies! There's one +talking to him and he has turned away," she said, pointing at him. +"I'd give it to him if he treated me as he does those ladies." + + +*"He is all the rage just now." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Suddenly everybody stirred, began talking, and pressed forward and +then back, and between the two rows, which separated, the Emperor +entered to the sounds of music that had immediately struck up. +Behind him walked his host and hostess. He walked in rapidly, bowing +to right and left as if anxious to get the first moments of the +reception over. The band played the polonaise in vogue at that time on +account of the words that had been set to it, beginning: "Alexander, +Elisaveta, all our hearts you ravish quite..." The Emperor passed on +to the drawing room, the crowd made a rush for the doors, and +several persons with excited faces hurried there and back again. +Then the crowd hastily retired from the drawing-room door, at which +the Emperor reappeared talking to the hostess. A young man, looking +distraught, pounced down on the ladies, asking them to move aside. +Some ladies, with faces betraying complete forgetfulness of all the +rules of decorum, pushed forward to the detriment of their toilets. +The men began to choose partners and take their places for the +polonaise. + +Everyone moved back, and the Emperor came smiling out of the drawing +room leading his hostess by the hand but not keeping time to the +music. The host followed with Marya Antonovna Naryshkina; then came +ambassadors, ministers, and various generals, whom Peronskaya +diligently named. More than half the ladies already had partners and +were taking up, or preparing to take up, their positions for the +polonaise. Natasha felt that she would be left with her mother and +Sonya among a minority of women who crowded near the wall, not +having been invited to dance. She stood with her slender arms +hanging down, her scarcely defined bosom rising and falling regularly, +and with bated breath and glittering, frightened eyes gazed straight +before her, evidently prepared for the height of joy or misery. She +was not concerned about the Emperor or any of those great people +whom Peronskaya was pointing out--she had but one thought: "Is it +possible no one will ask me, that I shall not be among the first to +dance? Is it possible that not one of all these men will notice me? +They do not even seem to see me, or if they do they look as if they +were saying, 'Ah, she's not the one I'm after, so it's not worth +looking at her!' No, it's impossible," she thought. "They must know +how I long to dance, how splendidly I dance, and how they would +enjoy dancing with me." + +The strains of the polonaise, which had continued for a considerable +time, had begun to sound like a sad reminiscence to Natasha's ears. +She wanted to cry. Peronskaya had left them. The count was at the +other end of the room. She and the countess and Sonya were standing by +themselves as in the depths of a forest amid that crowd of +strangers, with no one interested in them and not wanted by anyone. +Prince Andrew with a lady passed by, evidently not recognizing them. +The handsome Anatole was smilingly talking to a partner on his arm and +looked at Natasha as one looks at a wall. Boris passed them twice +and each time turned away. Berg and his wife, who were not dancing, +came up to them. + +This family gathering seemed humiliating to Natasha--as if there +were nowhere else for the family to talk but here at the ball. She did +not listen to or look at Vera, who was telling her something about her +own green dress. + +At last the Emperor stopped beside his last partner (he had danced +with three) and the music ceased. A worried aide-de-camp ran up to the +Rostovs requesting them to stand farther back, though as it was they +were already close to the wall, and from the gallery resounded the +distinct, precise, enticingly rhythmical strains of a waltz. The +Emperor looked smilingly down the room. A minute passed but no one had +yet begun dancing. An aide-de-camp, the Master of Ceremonies, went +up to Countess Bezukhova and asked her to dance. She smilingly +raised her hand and laid it on his shoulder without looking at him. +The aide-de-camp, an adept in his art, grasping his partner firmly +round her waist, with confident deliberation started smoothly, gliding +first round the edge of the circle, then at the corner of the room +he caught Helene's left hand and turned her, the only sound audible, +apart from the ever-quickening music, being the rhythmic click of +the spurs on his rapid, agile feet, while at every third beat his +partner's velvet dress spread out and seemed to flash as she whirled +round. Natasha gazed at them and was ready to cry because it was not +she who was dancing that first turn of the waltz. + +Prince Andrew, in the white uniform of a cavalry colonel, wearing +stockings and dancing shoes, stood looking animated and bright in +the front row of the circle not far from the Rostovs. Baron Firhoff +was talking to him about the first sitting of the Council of State +to be held next day. Prince Andrew, as one closely connected with +Speranski and participating in the work of the legislative commission, +could give reliable information about that sitting, concerning which +various rumors were current. But not listening to what Firhoff was +saying, he was gazing now at the sovereign and now at the men +intending to dance who had not yet gathered courage to enter the +circle. + +Prince Andrew was watching these men abashed by the Emperor's +presence, and the women who were breathlessly longing to be asked to +dance. + +Pierre came up to him and caught him by the arm. + +"You always dance. I have a protegee, the young Rostova, here. Ask +her," he said. + +"Where is she?" asked Bolkonski. "Excuse me!" he added, turning to +the baron, "we will finish this conversation elsewhere--at a ball +one must dance." He stepped forward in the direction Pierre indicated. +The despairing, dejected expression of Natasha's face caught his +eye. He recognized her, guessed her feelings, saw that it was her +debut, remembered her conversation at the window, and with an +expression of pleasure on his face approached Countess Rostova. + +"Allow me to introduce you to my daughter," said the countess, +with heightened color. + +"I have the pleasure of being already acquainted, if the countess +remembers me," said Prince Andrew with a low and courteous bow quite +belying Peronskaya's remarks about his rudeness, and approaching +Natasha he held out his arm to grasp her waist before he had completed +his invitation. He asked her to waltz. That tremulous expression on +Natasha's face, prepared either for despair or rapture, suddenly +brightened into a happy, grateful, childlike smile. + +"I have long been waiting for you," that frightened happy little +girl seemed to say by the smile that replaced the threatened tears, as +she raised her hand to Prince Andrew's shoulder. They were the +second couple to enter the circle. Prince Andrew was one of the best +dancers of his day and Natasha danced exquisitely. Her little feet +in their white satin dancing shoes did their work swiftly, lightly, +and independently of herself, while her face beamed with ecstatic +happiness. Her slender bare arms and neck were not beautiful--compared +to Helene's her shoulders looked thin and her bosom undeveloped. But +Helene seemed, as it were, hardened by a varnish left by the thousands +of looks that had scanned her person, while Natasha was like a girl +exposed for the first time, who would have felt very much ashamed +had she not been assured that this was absolutely necessary. + +Prince Andrew liked dancing, and wishing to escape as quickly as +possible from the political and clever talk which everyone addressed +to him, wishing also to break up the circle of restraint he +disliked, caused by the Emperor's presence, he danced, and had +chosen Natasha because Pierre pointed her out to him and because she +was the first pretty girl who caught his eye; but scarcely had he +embraced that slender supple figure and felt her stirring so close +to him and smiling so near him than the wine of her charm rose to +his head, and he felt himself revived and rejuvenated when after +leaving her he stood breathing deeply and watching the other dancers. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +After Prince Andrew, Boris came up to ask Natasha for a dance, and +then the aide-de-camp who had opened the ball, and several other young +men, so that, flushed and happy, and passing on her superfluous +partners to Sonya, she did not cease dancing all the evening. She +noticed and saw nothing of what occupied everyone else. Not only did +she fail to notice that the Emperor talked a long time with the French +ambassador, and how particularly gracious he was to a certain lady, or +that Prince So-and-so and So-and-so did and said this and that, and +that Helene had great success and was honored by the special attention +of So-and-so, but she did not even see the Emperor, and only noticed +that he had gone because the ball became livelier after his departure. +For one of the merry cotillions before supper Prince Andrew was again +her partner. He reminded her of their first encounter in the Otradnoe +avenue, and how she had been unable to sleep that moonlight night, and +told her how he had involuntarily overheard her. Natasha blushed at +that recollection and tried to excuse herself, as if there had been +something to be ashamed of in what Prince Andrew had overheard. + +Like all men who have grown up in society, Prince Andrew liked +meeting someone there not of the conventional society stamp. And +such was Natasha, with her surprise, her delight, her shyness, and +even her mistakes in speaking French. With her he behaved with special +care and tenderness, sitting beside her and talking of the simplest +and most unimportant matters; he admired her shy grace. In the +middle of the cotillion, having completed one of the figures, Natasha, +still out of breath, was returning to her seat when another dancer +chose her. She was tired and panting and evidently thought of +declining, but immediately put her hand gaily on the man's shoulder, +smiling at Prince Andrew. + +"I'd be glad to sit beside you and rest: I'm tired; but you see +how they keep asking me, and I'm glad of it, I'm happy and I love +everybody, and you and I understand it all," and much, much more was +said in her smile. When her partner left her Natasha ran across the +room to choose two ladies for the figure. + +"If she goes to her cousin first and then to another lady, she +will be my wife," said Prince Andrew to himself quite to his own +surprise, as he watched her. She did go first to her cousin. + +"What rubbish sometimes enters one's head!" thought Prince Andrew, +"but what is certain is that that girl is so charming, so original, +that she won't be dancing here a month before she will be +married.... Such as she are rare here," he thought, as Natasha, +readjusting a rose that was slipping on her bodice, settled herself +beside him. + +When the cotillion was over the old count in his blue coat came up +to the dancers. He invited Prince Andrew to come and see them, and +asked his daughter whether she was enjoying herself. Natasha did not +answer at once but only looked up with a smile that said +reproachfully: "How can you ask such a question?" + +"I have never enjoyed myself so much before!" she said, and Prince +Andrew noticed how her thin arms rose quickly as if to embrace her +father and instantly dropped again. Natasha was happier than she had +ever been in her life. She was at that height of bliss when one +becomes completely kind and good and does not believe in the +possibility of evil, unhappiness, or sorrow. + +At that ball Pierre for the first time felt humiliated by the +position his wife occupied in court circles. He was gloomy and +absent-minded. A deep furrow ran across his forehead, and standing +by a window he stared over his spectacles seeing no one. + +On her way to supper Natasha passed him. + +Pierre's gloomy, unhappy look struck her. She stopped in front of +him. She wished to help him, to bestow on him the superabundance of +her own happiness. + +"How delightful it is, Count!" said she. "Isn't it?" + +Pierre smiled absent-mindedly, evidently not grasping what she said. + +"Yes, I am very glad," he said. + +"How can people be dissatisfied with anything?" thought Natasha. +"Especially such a capital fellow as Bezukhov!" In Natasha's eyes +all the people at the ball alike were good, kind, and splendid people, +loving one another; none of them capable of injuring another--and so +they ought all to be happy. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Next day Prince Andrew thought of the ball, but his mind did not +dwell on it long. "Yes, it was a very brilliant ball," and then... +"Yes, that little Rostova is very charming. There's something fresh, +original, un-Petersburg-like about her that distinguishes her." That +was all he thought about yesterday's ball, and after his morning tea +he set to work. + +But either from fatigue or want of sleep he was ill-disposed for +work and could get nothing done. He kept criticizing his own work, +as he often did, and was glad when he heard someone coming. + +The visitor was Bitski, who served on various committees, frequented +all the societies in Petersburg, and a passionate devotee of the new +ideas and of Speranski, and a diligent Petersburg newsmonger--one of +those men who choose their opinions like their clothes according to +the fashion, but who for that very reason appear to be the warmest +partisans. Hardly had he got rid of his hat before he ran into +Prince Andrew's room with a preoccupied air and at once began talking. +He had just heard particulars of that morning's sitting of the Council +of State opened by the Emperor, and he spoke of it enthusiastically. +The Emperor's speech had been extraordinary. It had been a speech such +as only constitutional monarchs deliver. "The Sovereign plainly said +that the Council and Senate are estates of the realm, he said that the +government must rest not on authority but on secure bases. The Emperor +said that the fiscal system must be reorganized and the accounts +published," recounted Bitski, emphasizing certain words and opening +his eyes significantly. + +"Ah, yes! Today's events mark an epoch, the greatest epoch in our +history," he concluded. + +Prince Andrew listened to the account of the opening of the +Council of State, which he had so impatiently awaited and to which +he had attached such importance, and was surprised that this event, +now that it had taken place, did not affect him, and even seemed quite +insignificant. He listened with quiet irony to Bitski's enthusiastic +account of it. A very simple thought occurred to him: "What does it +matter to me or to Bitski what the Emperor was pleased to say at the +Council? Can all that make me any happier or better?" + +And this simple reflection suddenly destroyed all the interest +Prince Andrew had felt in the impending reforms. He was going to +dine that evening at Speranski's, "with only a few friends," as the +host had said when inviting him. The prospect of that dinner in the +intimate home circle of the man he so admired had greatly interested +Prince Andrew, especially as he had not yet seen Speranski in his +domestic surroundings, but now he felt disinclined to go to it. + +At the appointed hour, however, he entered the modest house +Speranski owned in the Taurida Gardens. In the parqueted dining room +this small house, remarkable for its extreme cleanliness (suggesting +that of a monastery), Prince Andrew, who was rather late, found the +friendly gathering of Speranski's intimate acquaintances already +assembled at five o'clock. There were no ladies present except +Speranski's little daughter (long-faced like her father) and her +governess. The other guests were Gervais, Magnitski, and Stolypin. +While still in the anteroom Prince Andrew heard loud voices and a +ringing staccato laugh--a laugh such as one hears on the stage. +Someone--it sounded like Speranski--was distinctly ejaculating +ha-ha-ha. Prince Andrew had never before heard Speranski's famous +laugh, and this ringing, high pitched laughter from a statesman made a +strange impression on him. + +He entered the dining room. The whole company were standing +between two windows at a small table laid with hors-d'oeuvres. +Speranski, wearing a gray swallow-tail coat with a star on the breast, +and evidently still the same waistcoat and high white stock he had +worn at the meeting of the Council of State, stood at the table with a +beaming countenance. His guests surrounded him. Magnitski, +addressing himself to Speranski, was relating an anecdote, and +Speranski was laughing in advance at what Magnitski was going to +say. When Prince Andrew entered the room Magnitski's words were +again crowned by laughter. Stolypin gave a deep bass guffaw as he +munched a piece of bread and cheese. Gervais laughed softly with a +hissing chuckle, and Speranski in a high-pitched staccato manner. + +Still laughing, Speranski held out his soft white hand to Prince +Andrew. + +"Very pleased to see you, Prince," he said. "One moment..." he +went on, turning to Magnitski and interrupting his story. "We have +agreed that this is a dinner for recreation, with not a word about +business!" and turning again to the narrator he began to laugh afresh. + +Prince Andrew looked at the laughing Speranski with astonishment, +regret, and disillusionment. It seemed to him that this was not +Speranski but someone else. Everything that had formerly appeared +mysterious and fascinating in Speranski suddenly became plain and +unattractive. + +At dinner the conversation did not cease for a moment and seemed +to consist of the contents of a book of funny anecdotes. Before +Magnitski had finished his story someone else was anxious to relate +something still funnier. Most of the anecdotes, if not relating to the +state service, related to people in the service. It seemed that in +this company the insignificance of those people was so definitely +accepted that the only possible attitude toward them was one of good +humored ridicule. Speranski related how at the Council that morning +a deaf dignitary, when asked his opinion, replied that he thought so +too. Gervais gave a long account of an official revision, remarkable +for the stupidity of everybody concerned. Stolypin, stuttering, +broke into the conversation and began excitedly talking of the +abuses that existed under the former order of things--threatening to +give a serious turn to the conversation. Magnitski starting quizzing +Stolypin about his vehemence. Gervais intervened with a joke, and +the talk reverted to its former lively tone. + +Evidently Speranski liked to rest after his labors and find +amusement in a circle of friends, and his guests, understanding his +wish, tried to enliven him and amuse themselves. But their gaiety +seemed to Prince Andrew mirthless and tiresome. Speranski's +high-pitched voice struck him unpleasantly, and the incessant laughter +grated on him like a false note. Prince Andrew did not laugh and +feared that he would be a damper on the spirits of the company, but no +one took any notice of his being out of harmony with the general mood. +They all seemed very gay. + +He tried several times to join in the conversation, but his +remarks were tossed aside each time like a cork thrown out of the +water, and he could not jest with them. + +There was nothing wrong or unseemly in what they said, it was +witty and might have been funny, but it lacked just that something +which is the salt of mirth, and they were not even aware that such a +thing existed. + +After dinner Speranski's daughter and her governess rose. He +patted the little girl with his white hand and kissed her. And that +gesture, too, seemed unnatural to Prince Andrew. + +The men remained at table over their port--English fashion. In the +midst of a conversation that was started about Napoleon's Spanish +affairs, which they all agreed in approving, Prince Andrew began to +express a contrary opinion. Speranski smiled and, with an evident wish +to prevent the conversation from taking an unpleasant course, told a +story that had no connection with the previous conversation. For a few +moments all were silent. + +Having sat some time at table, Speranski corked a bottle of wine +and, remarking, "Nowadays good wine rides in a carriage and pair," +passed it to the servant and got up. All rose and continuing to talk +loudly went into the drawing room. Two letters brought by a courier +were handed to Speranski and he took them to his study. As soon as +he had left the room the general merriment stopped and the guests +began to converse sensibly and quietly with one another. + +"Now for the recitation!" said Speranski on returning from his +study. "A wonderful talent!" he said to Prince Andrew, and Magnitski +immediately assumed a pose and began reciting some humorous verses +in French which he had composed about various well-known Petersburg +people. He was interrupted several times by applause. When the +verses were finished Prince Andrew went up to Speranski and took his +leave. + +"Where are you off to so early?" asked Speranski. + +"I promised to go to a reception." + +They said no more. Prince Andrew looked closely into those +mirrorlike, impenetrable eyes, and felt that it had been ridiculous of +him to have expected anything from Speranski and from any of his own +activities connected with him, or ever to have attributed importance +to what Speranski was doing. That precise, mirthless laughter rang +in Prince Andrew's ears long after he had left the house. + +When he reached home Prince Andrew began thinking of his life in +Petersburg during those last four months as if it were something +new. He recalled his exertions and solicitations, and the history of +his project of army reform, which had been accepted for +consideration and which they were trying to pass over in silence +simply because another, a very poor one, had already been prepared and +submitted to the Emperor. He thought of the meetings of a committee of +which Berg was a member. He remembered how carefully and at what +length everything relating to form and procedure was discussed at +those meetings, and how sedulously and promptly all that related to +the gist of the business was evaded. He recalled his labors on the +Legal Code, and how painstakingly he had translated the articles of +the Roman and French codes into Russian, and he felt ashamed of +himself. Then he vividly pictured to himself Bogucharovo, his +occupations in the country, his journey to Ryazan; he remembered the +peasants and Dron the village elder, and mentally applying to them the +Personal Rights he had divided into paragraphs, he felt astonished +that he could have spent so much time on such useless work. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Next day Prince Andrew called at a few houses he had not visited +before, and among them at the Rostovs' with whom he had renewed +acquaintance at the ball. Apart from considerations of politeness +which demanded the call, he wanted to see that original, eager girl +who had left such a pleasant impression on his mind, in her own home. + +Natasha was one of the first to meet him. She was wearing a +dark-blue house dress in which Prince Andrew thought her even prettier +than in her ball dress. She and all the Rostov family welcomed him +as an old friend, simply and cordially. The whole family, whom he +had formerly judged severely, now seemed to him to consist of +excellent, simple, and kindly people. The old count's hospitality +and good nature, which struck one especially in Petersburg as a +pleasant surprise, were such that Prince Andrew could not refuse to +stay to dinner. "Yes," he thought, "they are capital people, who of +course have not the slightest idea what a treasure they possess in +Natasha; but they are kindly folk and form the best possible setting +for this strikingly poetic, charming girl, overflowing with life!" + +In Natasha Prince Andrew was conscious of a strange world completely +alien to him and brimful of joys unknown to him, a different world, +that in the Otradnoe avenue and at the window that moonlight night had +already begun to disconcert him. Now this world disconcerted him no +longer and was no longer alien to him, but he himself having entered +it found in it a new enjoyment. + +After dinner Natasha, at Prince Andrew's request, went to the +clavichord and began singing. Prince Andrew stood by a window +talking to the ladies and listened to her. In the midst of a phrase he +ceased speaking and suddenly felt tears choking him, a thing he had +thought impossible for him. He looked at Natasha as she sang, and +something new and joyful stirred in his soul. He felt happy and at the +same time sad. He had absolutely nothing to weep about yet he was +ready to weep. What about? His former love? The little princess? His +disillusionments?... His hopes for the future?... Yes and no. The +chief reason was a sudden, vivid sense of the terrible contrast +between something infinitely great and illimitable within him and that +limited and material something that he, and even she, was. This +contrast weighed on and yet cheered him while she sang. + +As soon as Natasha had finished she went up to him and asked how +he liked her voice. She asked this and then became confused, feeling +that she ought not to have asked it. He smiled, looking at her, and +said he liked her singing as he liked everything she did. + +Prince Andrew left the Rostovs' late in the evening. He went to +bed from habit, but soon realized that he could not sleep. Having +lit his candle he sat up in bed, then got up, then lay down again +not at all troubled by his sleeplessness: his soul was as fresh and +joyful as if he had stepped out of a stuffy room into God's own +fresh air. It did not enter his head that he was in love with Natasha; +he was not thinking about her, but only picturing her to himself, +and in consequence all life appeared in a new light. "Why do I strive, +why do I toil in this narrow, confined frame, when life, all life with +all its joys, is open to me?" said he to himself. And for the first +time for a very long while he began making happy plans for the future. +He decided that he must attend to his son's education by finding a +tutor and putting the boy in his charge, then he ought to retire +from the service and go abroad, and see England, Switzerland and +Italy. "I must use my freedom while I feel so much strength and +youth in me," he said to himself. "Pierre was right when he said one +must believe in the possibility of happiness in order to be happy, and +now I do believe in it. Let the dead bury their dead, but while one +has life one must live and be happy!" thought he. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +One morning Colonel Berg, whom Pierre knew as he knew everybody in +Moscow and Petersburg, came to see him. Berg arrived in an +immaculate brand-new uniform, with his hair pomaded and brushed +forward over his temples as the Emperor Alexander wore his hair. + +"I have just been to see the countess, your wife. Unfortunately +she could not grant my request, but I hope, Count, I shall be more +fortunate with you," he said with a smile. + +"What is it you wish, Colonel? I am at your service." + +"I have now quite settled in my new rooms, Count" (Berg said this +with perfect conviction that this information could not but be +agreeable), "and so I wish to arrange just a small party for my own +and my wife's friends." (He smiled still more pleasantly.) "I wished +to ask the countess and you to do me the honor of coming to tea and to +supper." + +Only Countess Helene, considering the society of such people as +the Bergs beneath her, could be cruel enough to refuse such an +invitation. Berg explained so clearly why he wanted to collect at +his house a small but select company, and why this would give him +pleasure, and why though he grudged spending money on cards or +anything harmful, he was prepared to run into some expense for the +sake of good society--that Pierre could not refuse, and promised to +come. + +"But don't be late, Count, if I may venture to ask; about ten +minutes to eight, please. We shall make up a rubber. Our general is +coming. He is very good to me. We shall have supper, Count. So you +will do me the favor." + +Contrary to his habit of being late, Pierre on that day arrived at +the Bergs' house, not at ten but at fifteen minutes to eight. + +Having prepared everything necessary for the party, the Bergs were +ready for their guests' arrival. + +In their new, clean, and light study with its small busts and +pictures and new furniture sat Berg and his wife. Berg, closely +buttoned up in his new uniform, sat beside his wife explaining to +her that one always could and should be acquainted with people above +one, because only then does one get satisfaction from acquaintances. + +"You can get to know something, you can ask for something. See how I +managed from my first promotion." (Berg measured his life not by years +but by promotions.) "My comrades are still nobodies, while I am only +waiting for a vacancy to command a regiment, and have the happiness to +be your husband." (He rose and kissed Vera's hand, and on the way to +her straightened out a turned-up corner of the carpet.) "And how +have I obtained all this? Chiefly by knowing how to choose my +aquaintances. It goes without saying that one must be conscientious +and methodical." + +Berg smiled with a sense of his superiority over a weak woman, and +paused, reflecting that this dear wife of his was after all but a weak +woman who could not understand all that constitutes a man's dignity, +what it was ein Mann zu sein.* Vera at the same time smiling with a +sense of superiority over her good, conscientious husband, who all the +same understood life wrongly, as according to Vera all men did. +Berg, judging by his wife, thought all women weak and foolish. Vera, +judging only by her husband and generalizing from that observation, +supposed that all men, though they understand nothing and are +conceited and selfish, ascribe common sense to themselves alone. + + +*To be a man. + + +Berg rose and embraced his wife carefully, so as not to crush her +lace fichu for which he had paid a good price, kissing her straight on +the lips. + +"The only thing is, we mustn't have children too soon," he +continued, following an unconscious sequence of ideas. + +"Yes," answered Vera, "I don't at all want that. We must live for +society." + +"Princess Yusupova wore one exactly like this," said Berg, +pointing to the fichu with a happy and kindly smile. + +Just then Count Bezukhov was announced. Husband and wife glanced +at one another, both smiling with self-satisfaction, and each mentally +claiming the honor of this visit. + +"This is what comes of knowing how to make acquaintances," thought +Berg. "This is what comes of knowing how to conduct oneself." + +"But please don't interrupt me when I am entertaining the guests," +said Vera, "because I know what interests each of them and what to say +to different people." + +Berg smiled again. + +"It can't be helped: men must sometimes have masculine +conversation," said he. + +They received Pierre in their small, new drawing-room, where it +was impossible to sit down anywhere without disturbing its symmetry, +neatness, and order; so it was quite comprehensible and not strange +that Berg, having generously offered to disturb the symmetry of an +armchair or of the sofa for his dear guest, but being apparently +painfully undecided on the matter himself, eventually left the visitor +to settle the question of selection. Pierre disturbed the symmetry +by moving a chair for himself, and Berg and Vera immediately began +their evening party, interrupting each other in their efforts to +entertain their guest. + +Vera, having decided in her own mind that Pierre ought to be +entertained with conversation about the French embassy, at once +began accordingly. Berg, having decided that masculine conversation +was required, interrupted his wife's remarks and touched on the +question of the war with Austria, and unconsciously jumped from the +general subject to personal considerations as to the proposals made +him to take part in the Austrian campaign and the reasons why he had +declined them. Though the conversation was very incoherent and Vera +was angry at the intrusion of the masculine element, both husband +and wife felt with satisfaction that, even if only one guest was +present, their evening had begun very well and was as like as two peas +to every other evening party with its talk, tea, and lighted candles. + +Before long Boris, Berg's old comrade, arrived. There was a shade of +condescension and patronage in his treatment of Berg and Vera. After +Boris came a lady with the colonel, then the general himself, then the +Rostovs, and the party became unquestionably exactly like all other +evening parties. Berg and Vera could not repress their smiles of +satisfaction at the sight of all this movement in their drawing +room, at the sound of the disconnected talk, the rustling of +dresses, and the bowing and scraping. Everything was just as everybody +always has it, especially so the general, who admired the apartment, +patted Berg on the shoulder, and with parental authority superintended +the setting out of the table for boston. The general sat down by Count +Ilya Rostov, who was next to himself the most important guest. The old +people sat with the old, the young with the young, and the hostess +at the tea table, on which stood exactly the same kind of cakes in a +silver cake basket as the Panins had at their party. Everything was +just as it was everywhere else. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Pierre, as one of the principal guests, had to sit down to boston +with Count Rostov, the general, and the colonel. At the card table +he happened to be directly facing Natasha, and was struck by a curious +change that had come over her since the ball. She was silent, and +not only less pretty than at the ball, but only redeemed from +plainness by her look of gentle indifference to everything around. + +"What's the matter with her?" thought Pierre, glancing at her. She +was sitting by her sister at the tea table, and reluctantly, without +looking at him, made some reply to Boris who sat down beside her. +After playing out a whole suit and to his partner's delight taking +five tricks, Pierre, hearing greetings and the steps of someone who +had entered the room while he was picking up his tricks, glanced again +at Natasha. + +"What has happened to her?" he asked himself with still greater +surprise. + +Prince Andrew was standing before her, saying something to her +with a look of tender solicitude. She, having raised her head, was +looking up at him, flushed and evidently trying to master her rapid +breathing. And the bright glow of some inner fire that had been +suppressed was again alight in her. She was completely transformed and +from a plain girl had again become what she had been at the ball. + +Prince Andrew went up to Pierre, and the latter noticed a new and +youthful expression in his friend's face. + +Pierre changed places several times during the game, sitting now +with his back to Natasha and now facing her, but during the whole of +the six rubbers he watched her and his friend. + +"Something very important is happening between them," thought +Pierre, and a feeling that was both joyful and painful agitated him +and made him neglect the game. + +After six rubbers the general got up, saying that it was no use +playing like that, and Pierre was released. Natasha on one side was +talking with Sonya and Boris, and Vera with a subtle smile was +saying something to Prince Andrew. Pierre went up to his friend and, +asking whether they were talking secrets, sat down beside them. +Vera, having noticed Prince Andrew's attentions to Natasha, decided +that at a party, a real evening party, subtle allusions to the +tender passion were absolutely necessary and, seizing a moment when +Prince Andrew was alone, began a conversation with him about +feelings in general and about her sister. With so intellectual a guest +as she considered Prince Andrew to be, she felt that she had to employ +her diplomatic tact. + +When Pierre went up to them he noticed that Vera was being carried +away by her self-satisfied talk, but that Prince Andrew seemed +embarrassed, a thing that rarely happened with him. + +"What do you think?" Vera was saying with an arch smile. "You are so +discerning, Prince, and understand people's characters so well at a +glance. What do you think of Natalie? Could she be constant in her +attachments? Could she, like other women" (Vera meant herself), +"love a man once for all and remain true to him forever? That is +what I consider true love. What do you think, Prince?" + +"I know your sister too little," replied Prince Andrew, with a +sarcastic smile under which he wished to hide his embarrassment, "to +be able to solve so delicate a question, and then I have noticed +that the less attractive a woman is the more constant she is likely to +be," he added, and looked up at Pierre who was just approaching them. + +"Yes, that is true, Prince. In our days," continued Vera--mentioning +"our days" as people of limited intelligence are fond of doing, +imagining that they have discovered and appraised the peculiarities of +"our days" and that human characteristics change with the times--"in +our days a girl has so much freedom that the pleasure of being courted +often stifles real feeling in her. And it must be confessed that +Natalie is very susceptible." This return to the subject of Natalie +caused Prince Andrew to knit his brows with discomfort: he was about +to rise, but Vera continued with a still more subtle smile: + +"I think no one has been more courted than she," she went on, "but +till quite lately she never cared seriously for anyone. Now you +know, Count," she said to Pierre, "even our dear cousin Boris, who, +between ourselves, was very far gone in the land of tenderness..." +(alluding to a map of love much in vogue at that time). + +Prince Andrew frowned and remained silent. + +"You are friendly with Boris, aren't you?" asked Vera. + +"Yes, I know him..." + +"I expect he has told you of his childish love for Natasha?" + +"Oh, there was childish love?" suddenly asked Prince Andrew, +blushing unexpectedly. + +"Yes, you know between cousins intimacy often leads to love. Le +cousinage est un dangereux voisinage.* Don't you think so?" + + +*"Cousinhood is a dangerous neighborhood." + + +"Oh, undoubtedly!" said Prince Andrew, and with sudden and unnatural +liveliness he began chaffing Pierre about the need to be very +careful with his fifty-year-old Moscow cousins, and in the midst of +these jesting remarks he rose, taking Pierre by the arm, and drew +him aside. + +"Well?" asked Pierre, seeing his friend's strange animation with +surprise, and noticing the glance he turned on Natasha as he rose. + +"I must... I must have a talk with you," said Prince Andrew. "You +know that pair of women's gloves?" (He referred to the Masonic +gloves given to a newly initiated Brother to present to the woman he +loved.) "I... but no, I will talk to you later on," and with a strange +light in his eyes and restlessness in his movements, Prince Andrew +approached Natasha and sat down beside her. Pierre saw how Prince +Andrew asked her something and how she flushed as she replied. + +But at that moment Berg came to Pierre and began insisting that he +should take part in an argument between the general and the colonel on +the affairs in Spain. + +Berg was satisfied and happy. The smile of pleasure never left his +face. The party was very successful and quite like other parties he +had seen. Everything was similar: the ladies' subtle talk, the +cards, the general raising his voice at the card table, and the +samovar and the tea cakes; only one thing was lacking that he had +always seen at the evening parties he wished to imitate. They had +not yet had a loud conversation among the men and a dispute about +something important and clever. Now the general had begun such a +discussion and so Berg drew Pierre to it. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Next day, having been invited by the count, Prince Andrew dined with +the Rostovs and spent the rest of the day there. + +Everyone in the house realized for whose sake Prince Andrew came, +and without concealing it he tried to be with Natasha all day. Not +only in the soul of the frightened yet happy and enraptured Natasha, +but in the whole house, there was a feeling of awe at something +important that was bound to happen. The countess looked with sad and +sternly serious eyes at Prince Andrew when he talked to Natasha and +timidly started some artificial conversation about trifles as soon +as he looked her way. Sonya was afraid to leave Natasha and afraid +of being in the way when she was with them. Natasha grew pale, in a +panic of expectation, when she remained alone with him for a moment. +Prince Andrew surprised her by his timidity. She felt that he wanted +to say something to her but could not bring himself to do so. + +In the evening, when Prince Andrew had left, the countess went up to +Natasha and whispered: "Well, what?" + +"Mamma! For heaven's sake don't ask me anything now! One can't +talk about that," said Natasha. + +But all the same that night Natasha, now agitated and now +frightened, lay a long time in her mother's bed gazing straight +before her. She told her how he had complimented her, how he told +her he was going abroad, asked her where they were going to spend +the summer, and then how he had asked her about Boris. + +"But such a... such a... never happened to me before!" she said. +"Only I feel afraid in his presence. I am always afraid when I'm +with him. What does that mean? Does it mean that it's the real +thing? Yes? Mamma, are you asleep?" + +"No, my love; I am frightened myself," answered her mother. "Now +go!" + +"All the same I shan't sleep. What silliness, to sleep! Mummy! +Mummy! such a thing never happened to me before," she said, +surprised and alarmed at the feeling she was aware of in herself. "And +could we ever have thought!..." + +It seemed to Natasha that even at the time she first saw Prince +Andrew at Otradnoe she had fallen in love with him. It was as if she +feared this strange, unexpected happiness of meeting again the very +man she had then chosen (she was firmly convinced she had done so) and +of finding him, as it seemed, not indifferent to her. + +"And it had to happen that he should come specially to Petersburg +while we are here. And it had to happen that we should meet at that +ball. It is fate. Clearly it is fate that everything led up to this! +Already then, directly I saw him I felt something peculiar." + +"What else did he say to you? What are those verses? Read them..." +said her mother, thoughtfully, referring to some verses Prince +Andrew had written in Natasha's album. + +"Mamma, one need not be ashamed of his being a widower?" + +"Don't, Natasha! Pray to God. 'Marriages are made in heaven,'" +said her mother. + +"Darling Mummy, how I love you! How happy I am!" cried Natasha, +shedding tears of joy and excitement and embracing her mother. + +At that very time Prince Andrew was sitting with Pierre and +telling him of his love for Natasha and his firm resolve to make her +his wife. + +That day Countess Helene had a reception at her house. The French +ambassador was there, and a foreign prince of the blood who had of +late become a frequent visitor of hers, and many brilliant ladies +and gentlemen. Pierre, who had come downstairs, walked through the +rooms and struck everyone by his preoccupied, absent-minded, and +morose air. + +Since the ball he had felt the approach of a fit of nervous +depression and had made desperate efforts to combat it. Since the +intimacy of his wife with the royal prince, Pierre had unexpectedly +been made a gentleman of the bedchamber, and from that time he had +begun to feel oppressed and ashamed in court society, and dark +thoughts of the vanity of all things human came to him oftener than +before. At the same time the feeling he had noticed between his +protegee Natasha and Prince Andrew accentuated his gloom by the +contrast between his own position and his friend's. He tried equally +to avoid thinking about his wife, and about Natasha and Prince Andrew; +and again everything seemed to him insignificant in comparison with +eternity; again the question: for what? presented itself; and he +forced himself to work day and night at Masonic labors, hoping to +drive away the evil spirit that threatened him. Toward midnight, after +he had left the countess' apartments, he was sitting upstairs in a +shabby dressing gown, copying out the original transaction of the +Scottish lodge of Freemasons at a table in his low room cloudy with +tobacco smoke, when someone came in. It was Prince Andrew. + +"Ah, it's you!" said Pierre with a preoccupied, dissatisfied air. +"And I, you see, am hard at it." He pointed to his manuscript book +with that air of escaping from the ills of life with which unhappy +people look at their work. + +Prince Andrew, with a beaming, ecstatic expression of renewed life +on his face, paused in front of Pierre and, not noticing his sad look, +smiled at him with the egotism of joy. + +"Well, dear heart," said he, "I wanted to tell you about it +yesterday and I have come to do so today. I never experienced anything +like it before. I am in love, my friend!" + +Suddenly Pierre heaved a deep sigh and dumped his heavy person +down on the sofa beside Prince Andrew. + +"With Natasha Rostova, yes?" said he. + +"Yes, yes! Who else should it be? I should never have believed it, +but the feeling is stronger than I. Yesterday I tormented myself and +suffered, but I would not exchange even that torment for anything in +the world, I have not lived till now. At last I live, but I can't live +without her! But can she love me?... I am too old for her.... Why +don't you speak?" + +"I? I? What did I tell you?" said Pierre suddenly, rising and +beginning to pace up and down the room. "I always thought it.... +That girl is such a treasure... she is a rare girl.... My dear friend, +I entreat you, don't philosophize, don't doubt, marry, marry, +marry.... And I am sure there will not be a happier man than you." + +"But what of her?" + +"She loves you." + +"Don't talk rubbish..." said Prince Andrew, smiling and looking into +Pierre's eyes. + +"She does, I know," Pierre cried fiercely. + +"But do listen," returned Prince Andrew, holding him by the arm. "Do +you know the condition I am in? I must talk about it to someone." + +"Well, go on, go on. I am very glad," said Pierre, and his face +really changed, his brow became smooth, and he listened gladly to +Prince Andrew. Prince Andrew seemed, and really was, quite a +different, quite a new man. Where was his spleen, his contempt for +life, his disillusionment? Pierre was the only person to whom he +made up his mind to speak openly; and to him he told all that was in +his soul. Now he boldly and lightly made plans for an extended future, +said he could not sacrifice his own happiness to his father's caprice, +and spoke of how he would either make his father consent to this +marriage and love her, or would do without his consent; then he +marveled at the feeling that had mastered him as at something strange, +apart from and independent of himself. + +"I should not have believed anyone who told me that I was capable of +such love," said Prince Andrew. "It is not at all the same feeling +that I knew in the past. The whole world is now for me divided into +two halves: one half is she, and there all is joy, hope, light: the +other half is everything where she is not, and there is all gloom +and darkness...." + +"Darkness and gloom," reiterated Pierre: "yes, yes, I understand +that." + +"I cannot help loving the light, it is not my fault. And I am very +happy! You understand me? I know you are glad for my sake." + +"Yes, yes," Pierre assented, looking at his friend with a touched +and sad expression in his eyes. The brighter Prince Andrew's lot +appeared to him, the gloomier seemed his own. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Prince Andrew needed his father's consent to his marriage, and to +obtain this he started for the country next day. + +His father received his son's communication with external composure, +but inward wrath. He could not comprehend how anyone could wish to +alter his life or introduce anything new into it, when his own life +was already ending. "If only they would let me end my days as I want +to," thought the old man, "then they might do as they please." With +his son, however, he employed the diplomacy he reserved for +important occasions and, adopting a quiet tone, discussed the whole +matter. + +In the first place the marriage was not a brilliant one as regards +birth, wealth, or rank. Secondly, Prince Andrew was no longer as young +as he had been and his health was poor (the old man laid special +stress on this), while she was very young. Thirdly, he had a son +whom it would be a pity to entrust to a chit of a girl. "Fourthly +and finally," the father said, looking ironically at his son, "I beg +you to put it off for a year: go abroad, take a cure, look out as +you wanted to for a German tutor for Prince Nicholas. Then if your +love or passion or obstinacy--as you please--is still as great, marry! +And that's my last word on it. Mind, the last..." concluded the +prince, in a tone which showed that nothing would make him alter his +decision. + +Prince Andrew saw clearly that the old man hoped that his +feelings, or his fiancee's, would not stand a year's test, or that +he (the old prince himself) would die before then, and he decided to +conform to his father's wish--to propose, and postpone the wedding for +a year. + +Three weeks after the last evening he had spent with the Rostovs, +Prince Andrew returned to Petersburg. + + +Next day after her talk with her mother Natasha expected Bolkonski +all day, but he did not come. On the second and third day it was the +same. Pierre did not come either and Natasha, not knowing that +Prince Andrew had gone to see his father, could not explain his +absence to herself. + +Three weeks passed in this way. Natasha had no desire to go out +anywhere and wandered from room to room like a shadow, idle and +listless; she wept secretly at night and did not go to her mother in +the evenings. She blushed continually and was irritable. It seemed +to her that everybody knew about her disappointment and was laughing +at her and pitying her. Strong as was her inward grief, this wound +to her vanity intensified her misery. + +Once she came to her mother, tried to say something, and suddenly +began to cry. Her tears were those of an offended child who does not +know why it is being punished. + +The countess began to soothe Natasha, who after first listening to +her mother's words, suddenly interrupted her: + +"Leave off, Mamma! I don't think, and don't want to think about +it! He just came and then left off, left off..." + +Her voice trembled, and she again nearly cried, but recovered and +went on quietly: + +"And I don't at all want to get married. And I am afraid of him; I +have now become quite calm, quite calm." + +The day after this conversation Natasha put on the old dress which +she knew had the peculiar property of conducing to cheerfulness in the +mornings, and that day she returned to the old way of life which she +had abandoned since the ball. Having finished her morning tea she went +to the ballroom, which she particularly liked for its loud +resonance, and began singing her solfeggio. When she had finished +her first exercise she stood still in the middle of the room and +sang a musical phrase that particularly pleased her. She listened +joyfully (as though she had not expected it) to the charm of the notes +reverberating, filling the whole empty ballroom, and slowly dying +away; and all at once she felt cheerful. "What's the good of making so +much of it? Things are nice as it is," she said to herself, and she +began walking up and down the room, not stepping simply on the +resounding parquet but treading with each step from the heel to the +toe (she had on a new and favorite pair of shoes) and listening to the +regular tap of the heel and creak of the toe as gladly as she had to +the sounds of her own voice. Passing a mirror she glanced into it. +"There, that's me!" the expression of her face seemed to say as she +caught sight of herself. "Well, and very nice too! I need nobody." + +A footman wanted to come in to clear away something in the room +but she would not let him, and having closed the door behind him +continued her walk. That morning she had returned to her favorite +mood--love of, and delight in, herself. "How charming that Natasha +is!" she said again, speaking as some third, collective, male +person. "Pretty, a good voice, young, and in nobody's way if only they +leave her in peace." But however much they left her in peace she could +not now be at peace, and immediately felt this. + +In the hall the porch door opened, and someone asked, "At home?" and +then footsteps were heard. Natasha was looking at the mirror, but +did not see herself. She listened to the sounds in the hall. When +she saw herself, her face was pale. It was he. She knew this for +certain, though she hardly heard his voice through the closed doors. + +Pale and agitated, Natasha ran into the drawing room. + +"Mamma! Bolkonski has come!" she said. "Mamma, it is awful, it is +unbearable! I don't want... to be tormented? What am I to do?..." + +Before the countess could answer, Prince Andrew entered the room +with an agitated and serious face. As soon as he saw Natasha his +face brightened. He kissed the countess' hand and Natasha's, and sat +down beside the sofa. + +"It is long since we had the pleasure..." began the countess, but +Prince Andrew interrupted her by answering her intended question, +obviously in haste to say what he had to. + +"I have not been to see you all this time because I have been at my +father's. I had to talk over a very important matter with him. I +only got back last night," he said glancing at Natasha; "I want to +have a talk with you, Countess," he added after a moment's pause. + +The countess lowered her eyes, sighing deeply. + +"I am at your disposal," she murmured. + +Natasha knew that she ought to go away, but was unable to do so: +something gripped her throat, and regardless of manners she stared +straight at Prince Andrew with wide-open eyes. + +"At once? This instant!... No, it can't be!" she thought. + +Again he glanced at her, and that glance convinced her that she +was not mistaken. Yes, at once, that very instant, her fate would be +decided. + +"Go, Natasha! I will call you," said the countess in a whisper. + +Natasha glanced with frightened imploring eyes at Prince Andrew +and at her mother and went out. + +"I have come, Countess, to ask for your daughter's hand," said +Prince Andrew. + +The countess' face flushed hotly, but she said nothing. + +"Your offer..." she began at last sedately. He remained silent, +looking into her eyes. "Your offer..." (she grew confused) "is +agreeable to us, and I accept your offer. I am glad. And my husband... +I hope... but it will depend on her...." + +"I will speak to her when I have your consent.... Do you give it +to me?" said Prince Andrew. + +"Yes," replied the countess. She held out her hand to him, and +with a mixed feeling of estrangement and tenderness pressed her lips +to his forehead as he stooped to kiss her hand. She wished to love him +as a son, but felt that to her he was a stranger and a terrifying man. +"I am sure my husband will consent," said the countess, "but your +father..." + +"My father, to whom I have told my plans, has made it an express +condition of his consent that the wedding is not to take place for a +year. And I wished to tell you of that," said Prince Andrew. + +"It is true that Natasha is still young, but--so long as that?..." + +"It is unavoidable," said Prince Andrew with a sigh. + +"I will send her to you," said the countess, and left the room. + +"Lord have mercy upon us!" she repeated while seeking her daughter. + +Sonya said that Natasha was in her bedroom. Natasha was sitting on +the bed, pale and dry eyed, and was gazing at the icons and whispering +something as she rapidly crossed herself. Seeing her mother she jumped +up and flew to her. + +"Well, Mamma?... Well?..." + +"Go, go to him. He is asking for your hand," said the countess, +coldly it seemed to Natasha. "Go... go," said the mother, sadly and +reproachfully, with a deep sigh, as her daughter ran away. + +Natasha never remembered how she entered the drawing room. When +she came in and saw him she paused. "Is it possible that this stranger +has now become everything to me?" she asked herself, and immediately +answered, "Yes, everything! He alone is now dearer to me than +everything in the world." Prince Andrew came up to her with downcast +eyes. + +"I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you. May I hope?" + +He looked at her and was struck by the serious impassioned +expression of her face. Her face said: "Why ask? Why doubt what you +cannot but know? Why speak, when words cannot express what one feels?" + +She drew near to him and stopped. He took her hand and kissed it. + +"Do you love me?" + +"Yes, yes!" Natasha murmured as if in vexation. Then she sighed +loudly and, catching her breath more and more quickly, began to sob. + +"What is it? What's the matter?" + +"Oh, I am so happy!" she replied, smiled through her tears, bent +over closer to him, paused for an instant as if asking herself whether +she might, and then kissed him. + +Prince Andrew held her hands, looked into her eyes, and did not find +in his heart his former love for her. Something in him had suddenly +changed; there was no longer the former poetic and mystic charm of +desire, but there was pity for her feminine and childish weakness, +fear at her devotion and trustfulness, and an oppressive yet joyful +sense of the duty that now bound him to her forever. The present +feeling, though not so bright and poetic as the former, was stronger +and more serious. + +"Did your mother tell you that it cannot be for a year?" asked +Prince Andrew, still looking into her eyes. + +"Is it possible that I--the 'chit of a girl,' as everybody called +me," thought Natasha--"is it possible that I am now to be the wife and +the equal of this strange, dear, clever man whom even my father +looks up to? Can it be true? Can it be true that there can be no +more playing with life, that now I am grown up, that on me now lies +a responsibility for my every word and deed? Yes, but what did he +ask me?" + +"No," she replied, but she had not understood his question. + +"Forgive me!" he said. "But you are so young, and I have already +been through so much in life. I am afraid for you, you do not yet know +yourself." + +Natasha listened with concentrated attention, trying but failing +to take in the meaning of his words. + +"Hard as this year which delays my happiness will be," continued +Prince Andrew, "it will give you time to be sure of yourself. I ask +you to make me happy in a year, but you are free: our engagement shall +remain a secret, and should you find that you do not love me, or +should you come to love..." said Prince Andrew with an unnatural +smile. + +"Why do you say that?" Natasha interrupted him. "You know that +from the very day you first came to Otradnoe I have loved you," she +cried, quite convinced that she spoke the truth. + +"In a year you will learn to know yourself...." + +"A whole year!" Natasha repeated suddenly, only now realizing that +the marriage was to be postponed for a year. "But why a year? Why a +year?..." + +Prince Andrew began to explain to her the reasons for this delay. +Natasha did not hear him. + +"And can't it be helped?" she asked. Prince Andrew did not reply, +but his face expressed the impossibility of altering that decision. + +"It's awful! Oh, it's awful! awful!" Natasha suddenly cried, and +again burst into sobs. "I shall die, waiting a year: it's +impossible, it's awful!" She looked into her lover's face and saw in +it a look of commiseration and perplexity. + +"No, no! I'll do anything!" she said, suddenly checking her tears. +"I am so happy." + +The father and mother came into the room and gave the betrothed +couple their blessing. + +From that day Prince Andrew began to frequent the Rostovs' as +Natasha's affianced lover. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +No betrothal ceremony took place and Natasha's engagement to +Bolkonski was not announced; Prince Andrew insisted on that. He said +that as he was responsible for the delay he ought to bear the whole +burden of it; that he had given his word and bound himself forever, +but that he did not wish to bind Natasha and gave her perfect freedom. +If after six months she felt that she did not love him she would +have full right to reject him. Naturally neither Natasha nor her +parents wished to hear of this, but Prince Andrew was firm. He came +every day to the Rostovs', but did not behave to Natasha as an +affianced lover: he did not use the familiar thou, but said you to +her, and kissed only her hand. After their engagement, quite +different, intimate, and natural relations sprang up between them. +It was as if they had not known each other till now. Both liked to +recall how they had regarded each other when as yet they were +nothing to one another; they felt themselves now quite different +beings: then they were artificial, now natural and sincere. At first +the family felt some constraint in intercourse with Prince Andrew; +he seemed a man from another world, and for a long time Natasha +trained the family to get used to him, proudly assuring them all +that he only appeared to be different, but was really just like all of +them, and that she was not afraid of him and no one else ought to +be. After a few days they grew accustomed to him, and without +restraint in his presence pursued their usual way of life, in which he +took his part. He could talk about rural economy with the count, +fashions with the countess and Natasha, and about albums and fancywork +with Sonya. Sometimes the household both among themselves and in his +presence expressed their wonder at how it had all happened, and at the +evident omens there had been of it: Prince Andrew's coming to Otradnoe +and their coming to Petersburg, and the likeness between Natasha and +Prince Andrew which her nurse had noticed on his first visit, and +Andrew's encounter with Nicholas in 1805, and many other incidents +betokening that it had to be. + +In the house that poetic dullness and quiet reigned which always +accompanies the presence of a betrothed couple. Often when all sitting +together everyone kept silent. Sometimes the others would get up and +go away and the couple, left alone, still remained silent. They rarely +spoke of their future life. Prince Andrew was afraid and ashamed to +speak of it. Natasha shared this as she did all his feelings, which +she constantly divined. Once she began questioning him about his +son. Prince Andrew blushed, as he often did now--Natasha +particularly liked it in him--and said that his son would not live +with them. + +"Why not?" asked Natasha in a frightened tone. + +"I cannot take him away from his grandfather, and besides..." + +"How I should have loved him!" said Natasha, immediately guessing +his thought; "but I know you wish to avoid any pretext for finding +fault with us." + +Sometimes the old count would come up, kiss Prince Andrew, and ask +his advice about Petya's education or Nicholas' service. The old +countess sighed as she looked at them; Sonya was always getting +frightened lest she should be in the way and tried to find excuses for +leaving them alone, even when they did not wish it. When Prince Andrew +spoke (he could tell a story very well), Natasha listened to him +with pride; when she spoke she noticed with fear and joy that he gazed +attentively and scrutinizingly at her. She asked herself in +perplexity: "What does he look for in me? He is trying to discover +something by looking at me! What if what he seeks in me is not there?" +Sometimes she fell into one of the mad, merry moods characteristic +of her, and then she particularly loved to hear and see how Prince +Andrew laughed. He seldom laughed, but when he did he abandoned +himself entirely to his laughter, and after such a laugh she always +felt nearer to him. Natasha would have been completely happy if the +thought of the separation awaiting her and drawing near had not +terrified her, just as the mere thought of it made him turn pale and +cold. + +On the eve of his departure from Petersburg Prince Andrew brought +with him Pierre, who had not been to the Rostovs' once since the ball. +Pierre seemed disconcerted and embarrassed. He was talking to the +countess, and Natasha sat down beside a little chess table with Sonya, +thereby inviting Prince Andrew to come too. He did so. + +"You have known Bezukhov a long time?" he asked. "Do you like him?" + +"Yes, he's a dear, but very absurd." + +And as usual when speaking of Pierre, she began to tell anecdotes of +his absent-mindedness, some of which had even been invented about him. + +"Do you know I have entrusted him with our secret? I have known +him from childhood. He has a heart of gold. I beg you, Natalie," +Prince Andrew said with sudden seriousness--"I am going away and +heaven knows what may happen. You may cease to... all right, I know +I am not to say that. Only this, then: whatever may happen to you when +I am not here..." + +"What can happen?" + +"Whatever trouble may come," Prince Andrew continued, "I beg you, +Mademoiselle Sophie, whatever may happen, to turn to him alone for +advice and help! He is a most absent-minded and absurd fellow, but +he has a heart of gold." + +Neither her father, nor her mother, nor Sonya, nor Prince Andrew +himself could have foreseen how the separation from her lover would +act on Natasha. Flushed and agitated she went about the house all that +day, dry-eyed, occupied with most trivial matters as if not +understanding what awaited her. She did not even cry when, on taking +leave, he kissed her hand for the last time. "Don't go!" she said in a +tone that made him wonder whether he really ought not to stay and +which he remembered long afterwards. Nor did she cry when he was gone; +but for several days she sat in her room dry-eyed, taking no +interest in anything and only saying now and then, "Oh, why did he +go away?" + +But a fortnight after his departure, to the surprise of those around +her, she recovered from her mental sickness just as suddenly and +became her old self again, but with a change in her moral physiognomy, +as a child gets up after a long illness with a changed expression of +face. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +During that year after his son's departure, Prince Nicholas +Bolkonski's health and temper became much worse. He grew still more +irritable, and it was Princess Mary who generally bore the brunt of +his frequent fits of unprovoked anger. He seemed carefully to seek out +her tender spots so as to torture her mentally as harshly as possible. +Princess Mary had two passions and consequently two joys--her +nephew, little Nicholas, and religion--and these were the favorite +subjects of the prince's attacks and ridicule. Whatever was spoken +of he would bring round to the superstitiousness of old maids, or +the petting and spoiling of children. "You want to make him"--little +Nicholas--"into an old maid like yourself! A pity! Prince Andrew wants +a son and not an old maid," he would say. Or, turning to +Mademoiselle Bourienne, he would ask her in Princess Mary's presence +how she liked our village priests and icons and would joke about them. + +He continually hurt Princess Mary's feelings and tormented her, +but it cost her no effort to forgive him. Could he be to blame +toward her, or could her father, whom she knew loved her in spite of +it all, be unjust? And what is justice? The princess never thought +of that proud word "justice." All the complex laws of man centered for +her in one clear and simple law--the law of love and self-sacrifice +taught us by Him who lovingly suffered for mankind though He Himself +was God. What had she to do with the justice or injustice of other +people? She had to endure and love, and that she did. + +During the winter Prince Andrew had come to Bald Hills and had +been gay, gentle, and more affectionate than Princess Mary had known +him for a long time past. She felt that something had happened to him, +but he said nothing to her about his love. Before he left he had a +long talk with his father about something, and Princess Mary noticed +that before his departure they were dissatisfied with one another. + +Soon after Prince Andrew had gone, Princess Mary wrote to her friend +Julie Karagina in Petersburg, whom she had dreamed (as all girls +dream) of marrying to her brother, and who was at that time in +mourning for her own brother, killed in Turkey. + + +Sorrow, it seems, is our common lot, my dear, tender friend Julie. + +Your loss is so terrible that I can only explain it to myself as a +special providence of God who, loving you, wishes to try you and your +excellent mother. Oh, my friend! Religion, and religion alone, can--I +will not say comfort us--but save us from despair. Religion alone can +explain to us what without its help man cannot comprehend: why, for what +cause, kind and noble beings able to find happiness in life--not merely +harming no one but necessary to the happiness of others--are called away +to God, while cruel, useless, harmful persons, or such as are a burden +to themselves and to others, are left living. The first death I saw, and +one I shall never forget--that of my dear sister-in-law--left that +impression on me. Just as you ask destiny why your splendid brother had +to die, so I asked why that angel Lise, who not only never wronged +anyone, but in whose soul there were never any unkind thoughts, had to +die. And what do you think, dear friend? Five years have passed since +then, and already I, with my petty understanding, begin to see clearly +why she had to die, and in what way that death was but an expression of +the infinite goodness of the Creator, whose every action, though +generally incomprehensible to us, is but a manifestation of His infinite +love for His creatures. Perhaps, I often think, she was too angelically +innocent to have the strength to perform all a mother's duties. As a +young wife she was irreproachable; perhaps she could not have been so as +a mother. As it is, not only has she left us, and particularly Prince +Andrew, with the purest regrets and memories, but probably she will +there receive a place I dare not hope for myself. But not to speak of +her alone, that early and terrible death has had the most beneficent +influence on me and on my brother in spite of all our grief. Then, at +the moment of our loss, these thoughts could not occur to me; I should +then have dismissed them with horror, but now they are very clear and +certain. I write all this to you, dear friend, only to convince you of +the Gospel truth which has become for me a principle of life: not a +single hair of our heads will fall without His will. And His will is +governed only by infinite love for us, and so whatever befalls us is for +our good. + +You ask whether we shall spend next winter in Moscow. In spite of my +wish to see you, I do not think so and do not want to do so. You +will be surprised to hear that the reason for this is Buonaparte! +The case is this: my father's health is growing noticeably worse, he +cannot stand any contradiction and is becoming irritable. This +irritability is, as you know, chiefly directed to political questions. +He cannot endure the notion that Buonaparte is negotiating on equal +terms with all the sovereigns of Europe and particularly with our own, +the grandson of the Great Catherine! As you know, I am quite +indifferent to politics, but from my father's remarks and his talks +with Michael Ivanovich I know all that goes on in the world and +especially about the honors conferred on Buonaparte, who only at +Bald Hills in the whole world, it seems, is not accepted as a great +man, still less as Emperor of France. And my father cannot stand this. +It seems to me that it is chiefly because of his political views +that my father is reluctant to speak of going to Moscow; for he +foresees the encounters that would result from his way of expressing +his views regardless of anybody. All the benefit he might derive +from a course of treatment he would lose as a result of the disputes +about Buonaparte which would be inevitable. In any case it will be +decided very shortly. + +Our family life goes on in the old way except for my brother +Andrew's absence. He, as I wrote you before, has changed very much +of late. After his sorrow he only this year quite recovered his +spirits. He has again become as I used to know him when a child: kind, +affectionate, with that heart of gold to which I know no equal. He has +realized, it seems to me, that life is not over for him. But +together with this mental change he has grown physically much +weaker. He has become thinner and more nervous. I am anxious about him +and glad he is taking this trip abroad which the doctors recommended +long ago. I hope it will cure him. You write that in Petersburg he +is spoken of as one of the most active, cultivated, and capable of the +young men. Forgive my vanity as a relation, but I never doubted it. +The good he has done to everybody here, from his peasants up to the +gentry, is incalculable. On his arrival in Petersburg he received only +his due. I always wonder at the way rumors fly from Petersburg to +Moscow, especially such false ones as that you write about--I mean the +report of my brother's betrothal to the little Rostova. I do not think +my brother will ever marry again, and certainly not her; and this is +why: first, I know that though he rarely speaks about the wife he +has lost, the grief of that loss has gone too deep in his heart for +him ever to decide to give her a successor and our little angel a +stepmother. Secondly because, as far as I know, that girl is not the +kind of girl who could please Prince Andrew. I do not think he would +choose her for a wife, and frankly I do not wish it. But I am +running on too long and am at the end of my second sheet. Good-by, +my dear friend. May God keep you in His holy and mighty care. My +dear friend, Mademoiselle Bourienne, sends you kisses. + +MARY + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +In the middle of the summer Princess Mary received an unexpected +letter from Prince Andrew in Switzerland in which he gave her +strange and surprising news. He informed her of his engagement to +Natasha Rostova. The whole letter breathed loving rapture for his +betrothed and tender and confiding affection for his sister. He +wrote that he had never loved as he did now and that only now did he +understand and know what life was. He asked his sister to forgive +him for not having told her of his resolve when he had last visited +Bald Hills, though he had spoken of it to his father. He had not +done so for fear Princess Mary should ask her father to give his +consent, irritating him and having to bear the brunt of his +displeasure without attaining her object. "Besides," he wrote, "the +matter was not then so definitely settled as it is now. My father then +insisted on a delay of a year and now already six months, half of that +period, have passed, and my resolution is firmer than ever. If the +doctors did not keep me here at the spas I should be back in Russia, +but as it is I have to postpone my return for three months. You know +me and my relations with Father. I want nothing from him. I have +been and always shall be independent; but to go against his will and +arouse his anger, now that he may perhaps remain with us such a +short time, would destroy half my happiness. I am now writing to him +about the same question, and beg you to choose a good moment to hand +him the letter and to let me know how he looks at the whole matter and +whether there is hope that he may consent to reduce the term by four +months." + +After long hesitations, doubts, and prayers, Princess Mary gave +the letter to her father. The next day the old prince said to her +quietly: + +"Write and tell your brother to wait till I am dead.... It won't +be long--I shall soon set him free." + +The princess was about to reply, but her father would not let her +speak and, raising his voice more and more, cried: + +"Marry, marry, my boy!... A good family!... Clever people, eh? Rich, +eh? Yes, a nice stepmother little Nicholas will have! Write and tell +him that he may marry tomorrow if he likes. She will be little +Nicholas' stepmother and I'll marry Bourienne!... Ha, ha, ha! He +mustn't be without a stepmother either! Only one thing, no more +women are wanted in my house--let him marry and live by himself. +Perhaps you will go and live with him too?" he added, turning to +Princess Mary. "Go in heavens name! Go out into the frost... the +frost... the frost!" + +After this outburst the prince did not speak any more about the +matter. But repressed vexation at his son's poor-spirited behavior +found expression in his treatment of his daughter. To his former +pretexts for irony a fresh one was now added--allusions to stepmothers +and amiabilities to Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +"Why shouldn't I marry her?" he asked his daughter. "She'll make a +splendid princess!" + +And latterly, to her surprise and bewilderment, Princess Mary +noticed that her father was really associating more and more with +the Frenchwoman. She wrote to Prince Andrew about the reception of his +letter, but comforted him with hopes of reconciling their father to +the idea. + +Little Nicholas and his education, her brother Andrew, and religion +were Princess Mary's joys and consolations; but besides that, since +everyone must have personal hopes, Princess Mary in the profoundest +depths of her heart had a hidden dream and hope that supplied the +chief consolation of her life. This comforting dream and hope were +given her by God's folk--the half-witted and other pilgrims who +visited her without the prince's knowledge. The longer she lived, the +more experience and observation she had of life, the greater was her +wonder at the short-sightedness of men who seek enjoyment and +happiness here on earth: toiling, suffering, struggling, and harming +one another, to obtain that impossible, visionary, sinful happiness. +Prince Andrew had loved his wife, she died, but that was not enough: +he wanted to bind his happiness to another woman. Her father objected +to this because he wanted a more distinguished and wealthier match for +Andrew. And they all struggled and suffered and tormented one another +and injured their souls, their eternal souls, for the attainment of +benefits which endure but for an instant. Not only do we know this +ourselves, but Christ, the Son of God, came down to earth and told us +that this life is but for a moment and is a probation; yet we cling to +it and think to find happiness in it. "How is it that no one realizes +this?" thought Princess Mary. "No one except these despised God's folk +who, wallet on back, come to me by the back door, afraid of being seen +by the prince, not for fear of ill-usage by him but for fear of +causing him to sin. To leave family, home, and all the cares of +worldly welfare, in order without clinging to anything to wander in +hempen rags from place to place under an assumed name, doing no one +any harm but praying for all--for those who drive one away as well as +for those who protect one: higher than that life and truth there is no +life or truth!" + +There was one pilgrim, a quiet pockmarked little woman of fifty +called Theodosia, who for over thirty years had gone about barefoot +and worn heavy chains. Princess Mary was particularly fond of her. +Once, when in a room with a lamp dimly lit before the icon Theodosia +was talking of her life, the thought that Theodosia alone had found +the true path of life suddenly came to Princess Mary with such force +that she resolved to become a pilgrim herself. When Theodosia had gone +to sleep Princess Mary thought about this for a long time, and at last +made up her mind that, strange as it might seem, she must go on a +pilgrimage. She disclosed this thought to no one but to her confessor, +Father Akinfi, the monk, and he approved of her intention. Under guise +of a present for the pilgrims, Princess Mary prepared a pilgrim's +complete costume for herself: a coarse smock, bast shoes, a rough +coat, and a black kerchief. Often, approaching the chest of drawers +containing this secret treasure, Princess Mary paused, uncertain +whether the time had not already come to put her project into +execution. + +Often, listening to the pilgrims' tales, she was so stimulated by +their simple speech, mechanical to them but to her so full of deep +meaning, that several times she was on the point of abandoning +everything and running away from home. In imagination she already +pictured herself by Theodosia's side, dressed in coarse rags, +walking with a staff, a wallet on her back, along the dusty road, +directing her wanderings from one saint's shrine to another, free from +envy, earthly love, or desire, and reaching at last the place where +there is no more sorrow or sighing, but eternal joy and bliss. + +"I shall come to a place and pray there, and before having time to +get used to it or getting to love it, I shall go farther. I will go on +till my legs fail, and I'll lie down and die somewhere, and shall at +last reach that eternal, quiet haven, where there is neither sorrow +nor sighing..." thought Princess Mary. + +But afterwards, when she saw her father and especially little Koko +(Nicholas), her resolve weakened. She wept quietly, and felt that +she was a sinner who loved her father and little nephew more than God. + + + + + +BOOK SEVEN: 1810 --11 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Bible legend tells us that the absence of labor--idleness--was a +condition of the first man's blessedness before the Fall. Fallen man +has retained a love of idleness, but the curse weighs on the race not +only because we have to seek our bread in the sweat of our brows, but +because our moral nature is such that we cannot be both idle and at +ease. An inner voice tells us we are in the wrong if we are idle. If +man could find a state in which he felt that though idle he was +fulfilling his duty, he would have found one of the conditions of +man's primitive blessedness. And such a state of obligatory and +irreproachable idleness is the lot of a whole class--the military. The +chief attraction of military service has consisted and will consist in +this compulsory and irreproachable idleness. + +Nicholas Rostov experienced this blissful condition to the full +when, after 1807, he continued to serve in the Pavlograd regiment, +in which he already commanded the squadron he had taken over from +Denisov. + +Rostov had become a bluff, good-natured fellow, whom his Moscow +acquaintances would have considered rather bad form, but who was liked +and respected by his comrades, subordinates, and superiors, and was +well contented with his life. Of late, in 1809, he found in letters +from home more frequent complaints from his mother that their +affairs were falling into greater and greater disorder, and that it +was time for him to come back to gladden and comfort his old parents. + +Reading these letters, Nicholas felt a dread of their wanting to +take him away from surroundings in which, protected from all the +entanglements of life, he was living so calmly and quietly. He felt +that sooner or later he would have to re-enter that whirlpool of life, +with its embarrassments and affairs to be straightened out, its +accounts with stewards, quarrels, and intrigues, its ties, society, +and with Sonya's love and his promise to her. It was all dreadfully +difficult and complicated; and he replied to his mother in cold, +formal letters in French, beginning: "My dear Mamma," and ending: +"Your obedient son," which said nothing of when he would return. In +1810 he received letters from his parents, in which they told him of +Natasha's engagement to Bolkonski, and that the wedding would be in +a year's time because the old prince made difficulties. This letter +grieved and mortified Nicholas. In the first place he was sorry that +Natasha, for whom he cared more than for anyone else in the family, +should be lost to the home; and secondly, from his hussar point of +view, he regretted not to have been there to show that fellow +Bolkonski that connection with him was no such great honor after +all, and that if he loved Natasha he might dispense with permission +from his dotard father. For a moment he hesitated whether he should +not apply for leave in order to see Natasha before she was married, +but then came the maneuvers, and considerations about Sonya and +about the confusion of their affairs, and Nicholas again put it off. +But in the spring of that year, he received a letter from his +mother, written without his father's knowledge, and that letter +persuaded him to return. She wrote that if he did not come and take +matters in hand, their whole property would be sold by auction and +they would all have to go begging. The count was so weak, and +trusted Mitenka so much, and was so good-natured, that everybody +took advantage of him and things were going from bad to worse. "For +God's sake, I implore you, come at once if you do not wish to make +me and the whole family wretched," wrote the countess. + +This letter touched Nicholas. He had that common sense of a +matter-of-fact man which showed him what he ought to do. + +The right thing now was, if not to retire from the service, at any +rate to go home on leave. Why he had to go he did not know; but +after his after-dinner nap he gave orders to saddle Mars, an extremely +vicious gray stallion that had not been ridden for a long time, and +when he returned with the horse all in a lather, he informed Lavrushka +(Denisov's servant who had remained with him) and his comrades who +turned up in the evening that he was applying for leave and was +going home. Difficult and strange as it was for him to reflect that he +would go away without having heard from the staff--and this interested +him extremely--whether he was promoted to a captaincy or would receive +the Order of St. Anne for the last maneuvers; strange as it was to +think that he would go away without having sold his three roans to the +Polish Count Golukhovski, who was bargaining for the horses Rostov had +betted he would sell for two thousand rubles; incomprehensible as it +seemed that the ball the hussars were giving in honor of the Polish +Mademoiselle Przazdziecka (out of rivalry to the Uhlans who had +given one in honor of their Polish Mademoiselle Borzozowska) would +take place without him--he knew he must go away from this good, bright +world to somewhere where everything was stupid and confused. A week +later he obtained his leave. His hussar comrades--not only those of +his own regiment, but the whole brigade--gave Rostov a dinner to which +the subscription was fifteen rubles a head, and at which there were +two bands and two choirs of singers. Rostov danced the Trepak with +Major Basov; the tipsy officers tossed, embraced, and dropped +Rostov; the soldiers of the third squadron tossed him too, and shouted +"hurrah!" and then they put him in his sleigh and escorted him as +far as the first post station. + +During the first half of the journey--from Kremenchug to Kiev--all +Rostov's thoughts, as is usual in such cases, were behind him, with +the squadron; but when he had gone more than halfway he began to +forget his three roans and Dozhoyveyko, his quartermaster, and to +wonder anxiously how things would be at Otradnoe and what he would +find there. Thoughts of home grew stronger the nearer he approached +it--far stronger, as though this feeling of his was subject to the law +by which the force of attraction is in inverse proportion to the +square of the distance. At the last post station before Otradnoe he +gave the driver a three-ruble tip, and on arriving he ran +breathlessly, like a boy, up the steps of his home. + +After the rapture of meeting, and after that odd feeling of +unsatisfied expectation--the feeling that "everything is just the +same, so why did I hurry?"--Nicholas began to settle down in his old +home world. His father and mother were much the same, only a little +older. What was new in them was a certain uneasiness and occasional +discord, which there used not to be, and which, as Nicholas soon found +out, was due to the bad state of their affairs. Sonya was nearly +twenty; she had stopped growing prettier and promised nothing more +than she was already, but that was enough. She exhaled happiness and +love from the time Nicholas returned, and the faithful, unalterable +love of this girl had a gladdening effect on him. Petya and Natasha +surprised Nicholas most. Petya was a big handsome boy of thirteen, +merry, witty, and mischievous, with a voice that was already breaking. +As for Natasha, for a long while Nicholas wondered and laughed +whenever he looked at her. + +"You're not the same at all," he said. + +"How? Am I uglier?" + +"On the contrary, but what dignity? A princess!" he whispered to +her. + +"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Natasha, joyfully. + +She told him about her romance with Prince Andrew and of his visit +to Otradnoe and showed him his last letter. + +"Well, are you glad?" Natasha asked. "I am so tranquil and happy +now." + +"Very glad," answered Nicholas. "He is an excellent fellow.... And +are you very much in love?" + +"How shall I put it?" replied Natasha. "I was in love with Boris, +with my teacher, and with Denisov, but this is quite different. I feel +at peace and settled. I know that no better man than he exists, and +I am calm and contented now. Not at all as before." + +Nicholas expressed his disapproval of the postponement of the +marriage for a year; but Natasha attacked her brother with +exasperation, proving to him that it could not be otherwise, and +that it would be a bad thing to enter a family against the father's +will, and that she herself wished it so. + +"You don't at all understand," she said. + +Nicholas was silent and agreed with her. + +Her brother often wondered as he looked at her. She did not seem +at all like a girl in love and parted from her affianced husband. +She was even-tempered and calm and quite as cheerful as of old. This +amazed Nicholas and even made him regard Bolkonski's courtship +skeptically. He could not believe that her fate was sealed, especially +as he had not seen her with Prince Andrew. It always seemed to him +that there was something not quite right about this intended marriage. + +"Why this delay? Why no betrothal?" he thought. Once, when he had +touched on this topic with his mother, he discovered, to his +surprise and somewhat to his satisfaction, that in the depth of her +soul she too had doubts about this marriage. + +"You see he writes," said she, showing her son a letter of Prince +Andrew's, with that latent grudge a mother always has in regard to a +daughter's future married happiness, "he writes that he won't come +before December. What can be keeping him? Illness, probably! His +health is very delicate. Don't tell Natasha. And don't attach +importance to her being so bright: that's because she's living through +the last days of her girlhood, but I know what she is like every +time we receive a letter from him! However, God grant that +everything turns out well!" (She always ended with these words.) "He +is an excellent man!" + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +After reaching home Nicholas was at first serious and even dull. +He was worried by the impending necessity of interfering in the stupid +business matters for which his mother had called him home. To throw +off this burden as quickly as possible, on the third day after his +arrival he went, angry and scowling and without answering questions as +to where he was going, to Mitenka's lodge and demanded an account of +everything. But what an account of everything might be Nicholas knew +even less than the frightened and bewildered Mitenka. The conversation +and the examination of the accounts with Mitenka did not last long. +The village elder, a peasant delegate, and the village clerk, who were +waiting in the passage, heard with fear and delight first the young +count's voice roaring and snapping and rising louder and louder, and +then words of abuse, dreadful words, ejaculated one after the other. + +"Robber!... Ungrateful wretch!... I'll hack the dog to pieces! I'm +not my father!... Robbing us!..." and so on. + +Then with no less fear and delight they saw how the young count, red +in the face and with bloodshot eyes, dragged Mitenka out by the scruff +of the neck and applied his foot and knee to his behind with great +agility at convenient moments between the words, shouting, "Be off! +Never let me see your face here again, you villain!" + +Mitenka flew headlong down the six steps and ran away into the +shrubbery. (This shrubbery was a well-known haven of refuge for +culprits at Otradnoe. Mitenka himself, returning tipsy from the +town, used to hide there, and many of the residents at Otradnoe, +hiding from Mitenka, knew of its protective qualities.) + +Mitenka's wife and sisters-in-law thrust their heads and +frightened faces out of the door of a room where a bright samovar +was boiling and where the steward's high bedstead stood with its +patchwork quilt. + +The young count paid no heed to them, but, breathing hard, passed by +with resolute strides and went into the house. + +The countess, who heard at once from the maids what had happened +at the lodge, was calmed by the thought that now their affairs would +certainly improve, but on the other hand felt anxious as to the effect +this excitement might have on her son. She went several times to his +door on tiptoe and listened, as he lighted one pipe after another. + +Next day the old count called his son aside and, with an embarrassed +smile, said to him: + +"But you know, my dear boy, it's a pity you got excited! Mitenka has +told me all about it." + +"I knew," thought Nicholas, "that I should never understand anything +in this crazy world." + +"You were angry that he had not entered those 700 rubles. But they +were carried forward--and you did not look at the other page." + +"Papa, he is a blackguard and a thief! I know he is! And what I have +done, I have done; but, if you like, I won't speak to him again." + +"No, my dear boy" (the count, too, felt embarrassed. He knew he +had mismanaged his wife's property and was to blame toward his +children, but he did not know how to remedy it). "No, I beg you to +attend to the business. I am old. I..." + +"No, Papa. Forgive me if I have caused you unpleasantness. I +understand it all less than you do." + +"Devil take all these peasants, and money matters, and carryings +forward from page to page," he thought. "I used to understand what a +'corner' and the stakes at cards meant, but carrying forward to +another page I don't understand at all," said he to himself, and after +that he did not meddle in business affairs. But once the countess +called her son and informed him that she had a promissory note from +Anna Mikhaylovna for two thousand rubles, and asked him what he +thought of doing with it. + +"This," answered Nicholas. "You say it rests with me. Well, I +don't like Anna Mikhaylovna and I don't like Boris, but they were +our friends and poor. Well then, this!" and he tore up the note, and +by so doing caused the old countess to weep tears of joy. After +that, young Rostov took no further part in any business affairs, but +devoted himself with passionate enthusiasm to what was to him a new +pursuit--the chase--for which his father kept a large establishment. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The weather was already growing wintry and morning frosts +congealed an earth saturated by autumn rains. The verdure had +thickened and its bright green stood out sharply against the +brownish strips of winter rye trodden down by the cattle, and +against the pale-yellow stubble of the spring buckwheat. The wooded +ravines and the copses, which at the end of August had still been +green islands amid black fields and stubble, had become golden and +bright-red islands amid the green winter rye. The hares had already +half changed their summer coats, the fox cubs were beginning to +scatter, and the young wolves were bigger than dogs. It was the best +time of the year for the chase. The hounds of that ardent young +sportsman Rostov had not merely reached hard winter condition, but +were so jaded that at a meeting of the huntsmen it was decided to give +them a three days' rest and then, on the sixteenth of September, to go +on a distant expedition, starting from the oak grove where there was +an undisturbed litter of wolf cubs. + +All that day the hounds remained at home. It was frosty and the +air was sharp, but toward evening the sky became overcast and it began +to thaw. On the fifteenth, when young Rostov, in his dressing gown, +looked out of the window, he saw it was an unsurpassable morning for +hunting: it was as if the sky were melting and sinking to the earth +without any wind. The only motion in the air was that of the dripping, +microscopic particles of drizzling mist. The bare twigs in the +garden were hung with transparent drops which fell on the freshly +fallen leaves. The earth in the kitchen garden looked wet and black +and glistened like poppy seed and at a short distance merged into +the dull, moist veil of mist. Nicholas went out into the wet and muddy +porch. There was a smell of decaying leaves and of dog. Milka, a +black-spotted, broad-haunched bitch with prominent black eyes, got +up on seeing her master, stretched her hind legs, lay down like a +hare, and then suddenly jumped up and licked him right on his nose and +mustache. Another borzoi, a dog, catching sight of his master from the +garden path, arched his back and, rushing headlong toward the porch +with lifted tail, began rubbing himself against his legs. + +"O-hoy!" came at that moment, that inimitable huntsman's call +which unites the deepest bass with the shrillest tenor, and round +the corner came Daniel the head huntsman and head kennelman, a gray, +wrinkled old man with hair cut straight over his forehead, Ukrainian +fashion, a long bent whip in his hand, and that look of independence +and scorn of everything that is only seen in huntsmen. He doffed his +Circassian cap to his master and looked at him scornfully. This +scorn was not offensive to his master. Nicholas knew that this Daniel, +disdainful of everybody and who considered himself above them, was all +the same his serf and huntsman. + +"Daniel!" Nicholas said timidly, conscious at the sight of the +weather, the hounds, and the huntsman that he was being carried away +by that irresistible passion for sport which makes a man forget all +his previous resolutions, as a lover forgets in the presence of his +mistress. + +"What orders, your excellency?" said the huntsman in his deep +bass, deep as a proto-deacon's and hoarse with hallooing--and two +flashing black eyes gazed from under his brows at his master, who +was silent. "Can you resist it?" those eyes seemed to be asking. + +"It's a good day, eh? For a hunt and a gallop, eh?" asked +Nicholas, scratching Milka behind the ears. + +Daniel did not answer, but winked instead. + +"I sent Uvarka at dawn to listen," his bass boomed out after a +minute's pause. "He says she's moved them into the Otradnoe enclosure. +They were howling there." (This meant that the she-wolf, about whom +they both knew, had moved with her cubs to the Otradnoe copse, a small +place a mile and a half from the house.) + +"We ought to go, don't you think so?" said Nicholas. "Come to me +with Uvarka." + +"As you please." + +"Then put off feeding them." + +"Yes, sir." + +Five minutes later Daniel and Uvarka were standing in Nicholas' +big study. Though Daniel was not a big man, to see him in a room was +like seeing a horse or a bear on the floor among the furniture and +surroundings of human life. Daniel himself felt this, and as usual +stood just inside the door, trying to speak softly and not move, for +fear of breaking something in the master's apartment, and he +hastened to say all that was necessary so as to get from under that +ceiling, out into the open under the sky once more. + +Having finished his inquiries and extorted from Daniel an opinion +that the hounds were fit (Daniel himself wished to go hunting), +Nicholas ordered the horses to be saddled. But just as Daniel was +about to go Natasha came in with rapid steps, not having done up her +hair or finished dressing and with her old nurse's big shawl wrapped +round her. Petya ran in at the same time. + +"You are going?" asked Natasha. "I knew you would! Sonya said you +wouldn't go, but I knew that today is the sort of day when you +couldn't help going." + +"Yes, we are going," replied Nicholas reluctantly, for today, as +he intended to hunt seriously, he did not want to take Natasha and +Petya. "We are going, but only wolf hunting: it would be dull for +you." + +"You know it is my greatest pleasure," said Natasha. "It's not fair; +you are going by yourself, are having the horses saddled and said +nothing to us about it." + +"'No barrier bars a Russian's path'--we'll go!" shouted Petya. + +"But you can't. Mamma said you mustn't," said Nicholas to Natasha. + +"Yes, I'll go. I shall certainly go," said Natasha decisively. +"Daniel, tell them to saddle for us, and Michael must come with my +dogs," she added to the huntsman. + +It seemed to Daniel irksome and improper to be in a room at all, but +to have anything to do with a young lady seemed to him impossible. +He cast down his eyes and hurried out as if it were none of his +business, careful as he went not to inflict any accidental injury on +the young lady. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The old count, who had always kept up an enormous hunting +establishment but had now handed it all completely over to his son's +care, being in very good spirits on this fifteenth of September, +prepared to go out with the others. + +In an hour's time the whole hunting party was at the porch. +Nicholas, with a stern and serious air which showed that now was no +time for attending to trifles, went past Natasha and Petya who were +trying to tell him something. He had a look at all the details of +the hunt, sent a pack of hounds and huntsmen on ahead to find the +quarry, mounted his chestnut Donets, and whistling to his own leash of +borzois, set off across the threshing ground to a field leading to the +Otradnoe wood. The old count's horse, a sorrel gelding called +Viflyanka, was led by the groom in attendance on him, while the +count himself was to drive in a small trap straight to a spot reserved +for him. + +They were taking fifty-four hounds, with six hunt attendants and +whippers-in. Besides the family, there were eight borzoi kennelmen and +more than forty borzois, so that, with the borzois on the leash +belonging to members of the family, there were about a hundred and +thirty dogs and twenty horsemen. + +Each dog knew its master and its call. Each man in the hunt knew his +business, his place, what he had to do. As soon as they had passed the +fence they all spread out evenly and quietly, without noise or talk, +along the road and field leading to the Otradnoe covert. + +The horses stepped over the field as over a thick carpet, now and +then splashing into puddles as they crossed a road. The misty sky +still seemed to descend evenly and imperceptibly toward the earth, the +air was still, warm, and silent. Occasionally the whistle of a +huntsman, the snort of a horse, the crack of a whip, or the whine of a +straggling hound could be heard. + +When they had gone a little less than a mile, five more riders +with dogs appeared out of the mist, approaching the Rostovs. In +front rode a fresh-looking, handsome old man with a large gray +mustache. + +"Good morning, Uncle!" said Nicholas, when the old man drew near. + +"That's it. Come on!... I was sure of it," began "Uncle." (He was +a distant relative of the Rostovs', a man of small means, and their +neighbor.) "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist it and it's a good +thing you're going. That's it! Come on! (This was "Uncle's" favorite +expression.) "Take the covert at once, for my Girchik says the Ilagins +are at Korniki with their hounds. That's it. Come on!... They'll +take the cubs from under your very nose." + +"That's where I'm going. Shall we join up our packs?" asked +Nicholas. + +The hounds were joined into one pack, and "Uncle" and Nicholas +rode on side by side. Natasha, muffled up in shawls which did not hide +her eager face and shining eyes, galloped up to them. She was followed +by Petya who always kept close to her, by Michael, a huntsman, and +by a groom appointed to look after her. Petya, who was laughing, +whipped and pulled at his horse. Natasha sat easily and confidently on +her black Arabchik and reined him in without effort with a firm hand. + +"Uncle" looked round disapprovingly at Petya and Natasha. He did not +like to combine frivolity with the serious business of hunting. + +"Good morning, Uncle! We are going too!" shouted Petya. + +"Good morning, good morning! But don't go overriding the hounds," +said "Uncle" sternly. + +"Nicholas, what a fine dog Trunila is! He knew me," said Natasha, +referring to her favorite hound. + +"In the first place, Trunila is not a 'dog,' but a harrier," thought +Nicholas, and looked sternly at his sister, trying to make her feel +the distance that ought to separate them at that moment. Natasha +understood it. + +"You mustn't think we'll be in anyone's way, Uncle," she said. +"We'll go to our places and won't budge." + +"A good thing too, little countess," said "Uncle," "only mind you +don't fall off your horse," he added, "because--that's it, come +on!--you've nothing to hold on to." + +The oasis of the Otradnoe covert came in sight a few hundred yards +off, the huntsmen were already nearing it. Rostov, having finally +settled with "Uncle" where they should set on the hounds, and having +shown Natasha where she was to stand--a spot where nothing could +possibly run out--went round above the ravine. + +"Well, nephew, you're going for a big wolf," said "Uncle." "Mind and +don't let her slip!" + +"That's as may happen," answered Rostov. "Karay, here!" he +shouted, answering "Uncle's" remark by this call to his borzoi. +Karay was a shaggy old dog with a hanging jowl, famous for having +tackled a big wolf unaided. They all took up their places. + +The old count, knowing his son's ardor in the hunt, hurried so as +not to be late, and the huntsmen had not yet reached their places when +Count Ilya Rostov, cheerful, flushed, and with quivering cheeks, drove +up with his black horses over the winter rye to the place reserved for +him, where a wolf might come out. Having straightened his coat and +fastened on his hunting knives and horn, he mounted his good, sleek, +well-fed, and comfortable horse, Viflyanka, which was turning gray, +like himself. His horses and trap were sent home. Count Ilya Rostov, +though not at heart a keen sportsman, knew the rules of the hunt well, +and rode to the bushy edge of the road where he was to stand, arranged +his reins, settled himself in the saddle, and, feeling that he was +ready, looked about with a smile. + +Beside him was Simon Chekmar, his personal attendant, an old +horseman now somewhat stiff in the saddle. Chekmar held in leash three +formidable wolfhounds, who had, however, grown fat like their master +and his horse. Two wise old dogs lay down unleashed. Some hundred +paces farther along the edge of the wood stood Mitka, the count's +other groom, a daring horseman and keen rider to hounds. Before the +hunt, by old custom, the count had drunk a silver cupful of mulled +brandy, taken a snack, and washed it down with half a bottle of his +favorite Bordeaux. + +He was somewhat flushed with the wine and the drive. His eyes were +rather moist and glittered more than usual, and as he sat in his +saddle, wrapped up in his fur coat, he looked like a child taken out +for an outing. + +The thin, hollow-cheeked Chekmar, having got everything ready, +kept glancing at his master with whom he had lived on the best of +terms for thirty years, and understanding the mood he was in +expected a pleasant chat. A third person rode up circumspectly through +the wood (it was plain that he had had a lesson) and stopped behind +the count. This person was a gray-bearded old man in a woman's +cloak, with a tall peaked cap on his head. He was the buffoon, who +went by a woman's name, Nastasya Ivanovna. + +"Well, Nastasya Ivanovna!" whispered the count, winking at him. +"If you scare away the beast, Daniel'll give it you!" + +"I know a thing or two myself!" said Nastasya Ivanovna. + +"Hush!" whispered the count and turned to Simon. "Have you seen +the young countess?" he asked. "Where is she?" + +"With young Count Peter, by the Zharov rank grass," answered +Simon, smiling. "Though she's a lady, she's very fond of hunting." + +"And you're surprised at the way she rides, Simon, eh?" said the +count. "She's as good as many a man!" + +"Of course! It's marvelous. So bold, so easy!" + +"And Nicholas? Where is he? By the Lyadov upland, isn't he?" + +"Yes, sir. He knows where to stand. He understands the matter so +well that Daniel and I are often quite astounded," said Simon, well +knowing what would please his master. + +"Rides well, eh? And how well he looks on his horse, eh?" + +"A perfect picture! How he chased a fox out of the rank grass by the +Zavarzinsk thicket the other day! Leaped a fearful place; what a sight +when they rushed from the covert... the horse worth a thousand +rubles and the rider beyond all price! Yes, one would have to search +far to find another as smart." + +"To search far..." repeated the count, evidently sorry Simon had not +said more. "To search far," he said, turning back the skirt of his +coat to get at his snuffbox. + +"The other day when he came out from Mass in full uniform, Michael +Sidorych..." Simon did not finish, for on the still air he had +distinctly caught the music of the hunt with only two or three +hounds giving tongue. He bent down his head and listened, shaking a +warning finger at his master. "They are on the scent of the cubs..." +he whispered, "straight to the Lyadov uplands." + +The count, forgetting to smooth out the smile on his face, looked +into the distance straight before him, down the narrow open space, +holding the snuffbox in his hand but not taking any. After the cry +of the hounds came the deep tones of the wolf call from Daniel's +hunting horn; the pack joined the first three hounds and they could be +heard in full cry, with that peculiar lift in the note that +indicates that they are after a wolf. The whippers-in no longer set on +the hounds, but changed to the cry of ulyulyu, and above the others +rose Daniel's voice, now a deep bass, now piercingly shrill. His voice +seemed to fill the whole wood and carried far beyond out into the open +field. + +After listening a few moments in silence, the count and his +attendant convinced themselves that the hounds had separated into +two packs: the sound of the larger pack, eagerly giving tongue, +began to die away in the distance, the other pack rushed by the wood +past the count, and it was with this that Daniel's voice was heard +calling ulyulyu. The sounds of both packs mingled and broke apart +again, but both were becoming more distant. + +Simon sighed and stooped to straighten the leash a young borzoi +had entangled; the count too sighed and, noticing the snuffbox in +his hand, opened it and took a pinch. "Back!" cried Simon to a +borzoi that was pushing forward out of the wood. The count started and +dropped the snuffbox. Nastasya Ivanovna dismounted to pick it up. +The count and Simon were looking at him. + +Then, unexpectedly, as often happens, the sound of the hunt suddenly +approached, as if the hounds in full cry and Daniel ulyulyuing were +just in front of them. + +The count turned and saw on his right Mitka staring at him with eyes +starting out of his head, raising his cap and pointing before him to +the other side. + +"Look out!" he shouted, in a voice plainly showing that he had +long fretted to utter that word, and letting the borzois slip he +galloped toward the count. + +The count and Simon galloped out of the wood and saw on their left a +wolf which, softly swaying from side to side, was coming at a quiet +lope farther to the left to the very place where they were standing. +The angry borzois whined and getting free of the leash rushed past the +horses' feet at the wolf. + +The wolf paused, turned its heavy forehead toward the dogs +awkwardly, like a man suffering from the quinsy, and, still slightly +swaying from side to side, gave a couple of leaps and with a swish +of its tail disappeared into the skirt of the wood. At the same +instant, with a cry like a wail, first one hound, then another, and +then another, sprang helter-skelter from the wood opposite and the +whole pack rushed across the field toward the very spot where the wolf +had disappeared. The hazel bushes parted behind the hounds and +Daniel's chestnut horse appeared, dark with sweat. On its long back +sat Daniel, hunched forward, capless, his disheveled gray hair hanging +over his flushed, perspiring face. + +"Ulyulyulyu! ulyulyu!..." he cried. When he caught sight of the +count his eyes flashed lightning. + +"Blast you!" he shouted, holding up his whip threateningly at the +count. + +"You've let the wolf go!... What sportsmen!" and as if scorning to +say more to the frightened and shamefaced count, he lashed the heaving +flanks of his sweating chestnut gelding with all the anger the count +had aroused and flew off after the hounds. The count, like a +punished schoolboy, looked round, trying by a smile to win Simon's +sympathy for his plight. But Simon was no longer there. He was +galloping round by the bushes while the field was coming up on both +sides, all trying to head the wolf, but it vanished into the wood +before they could do so. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Nicholas Rostov meanwhile remained at his post, waiting for the +wolf. By the way the hunt approached and receded, by the cries of +the dogs whose notes were familiar to him, by the way the voices of +the huntsmen approached, receded, and rose, he realized what was +happening at the copse. He knew that young and old wolves were +there, that the hounds had separated into two packs, that somewhere +a wolf was being chased, and that something had gone wrong. He +expected the wolf to come his way any moment. He made thousands of +different conjectures as to where and from what side the beast would +come and how he would set upon it. Hope alternated with despair. +Several times he addressed a prayer to God that the wolf should come +his way. He prayed with that passionate and shamefaced feeling with +which men pray at moments of great excitement arising from trivial +causes. "What would it be to Thee to do this for me?" he said to +God. "I know Thou art great, and that it is a sin to ask this of Thee, +but for God's sake do let the old wolf come my way and let Karay +spring at it--in sight of 'Uncle' who is watching from over there--and +seize it by the throat in a death grip!" A thousand times during +that half-hour Rostov cast eager and restless glances over the edge of +the wood, with the two scraggy oaks rising above the aspen undergrowth +and the gully with its water-worn side and "Uncle's" cap just +visible above the bush on his right. + +"No, I shan't have such luck," thought Rostov, "yet what wouldn't it +be worth! It is not to be! Everywhere, at cards and in war, I am +always unlucky." Memories of Austerlitz and of Dolokhov flashed +rapidly and clearly through his mind. "Only once in my life to get +an old wolf, I want only that!" thought he, straining eyes and ears +and looking to the left and then to the right and listening to the +slightest variation of note in the cries of the dogs. + +Again he looked to the right and saw something running toward him +across the deserted field. "No, it can't be!" thought Rostov, taking a +deep breath, as a man does at the coming of something long hoped +for. The height of happiness was reached--and so simply, without +warning, or noise, or display, that Rostov could not believe his +eyes and remained in doubt for over a second. The wolf ran forward and +jumped heavily over a gully that lay in her path. She was an old +animal with a gray back and big reddish belly. She ran without +hurry, evidently feeling sure that no one saw her. Rostov, holding his +breath, looked round at the borzois. They stood or lay not seeing +the wolf or understanding the situation. Old Karay had turned his head +and was angrily searching for fleas, baring his yellow teeth and +snapping at his hind legs. + +"Ulyulyulyu!" whispered Rostov, pouting his lips. The borzois jumped +up, jerking the rings of the leashes and pricking their ears. Karay +finished scratching his hindquarters and, cocking his ears, got up +with quivering tail from which tufts of matted hair hung down. + +"Shall I loose them or not?" Nicholas asked himself as the wolf +approached him coming from the copse. Suddenly the wolf's whole +physiognomy changed: she shuddered, seeing what she had probably never +seen before--human eyes fixed upon her--and turning her head a +little toward Rostov, she paused. + +"Back or forward? Eh, no matter, forward..." the wolf seemed to +say to herself, and she moved forward without again looking round +and with a quiet, long, easy yet resolute lope. + +"Ulyulyu!" cried Nicholas, in a voice not his own, and of its own +accord his good horse darted headlong downhill, leaping over gullies +to head off the wolf, and the borzois passed it, running faster still. +Nicholas did not hear his own cry nor feel that he was galloping, +nor see the borzois, nor the ground over which he went: he saw only +the wolf, who, increasing her speed, bounded on in the same +direction along the hollow. The first to come into view was Milka, +with her black markings and powerful quarters, gaining upon the +wolf. Nearer and nearer... now she was ahead of it; but the wolf +turned its head to face her, and instead of putting on speed as she +usually did Milka suddenly raised her tail and stiffened her forelegs. + +"Ulyulyulyulyu!" shouted Nicholas. + +The reddish Lyubim rushed forward from behind Milka, sprang +impetuously at the wolf, and seized it by its hindquarters, but +immediately jumped aside in terror. The wolf crouched, gnashed her +teeth, and again rose and bounded forward, followed at the distance of +a couple of feet by all the borzois, who did not get any closer to +her. + +"She'll get away! No, it's impossible!" thought Nicholas, still +shouting with a hoarse voice. + +"Karay, ulyulyu!..." he shouted, looking round for the old borzoi +who was now his only hope. Karay, with all the strength age had left +him, stretched himself to the utmost and, watching the wolf, +galloped heavily aside to intercept it. But the quickness of the +wolf's lope and the borzoi's slower pace made it plain that Karay +had miscalculated. Nicholas could already see not far in front of +him the wood where the wolf would certainly escape should she reach +it. But, coming toward him, he saw hounds and a huntsman galloping +almost straight at the wolf. There was still hope. A long, yellowish +young borzoi, one Nicholas did not know, from another leash, rushed +impetuously at the wolf from in front and almost knocked her over. But +the wolf jumped up more quickly than anyone could have expected and, +gnashing her teeth, flew at the yellowish borzoi, which, with a +piercing yelp, fell with its head on the ground, bleeding from a +gash in its side. + +"Karay? Old fellow!..." wailed Nicholas. + +Thanks to the delay caused by this crossing of the wolf's path, +the old dog with its felted hair hanging from its thigh was within +five paces of it. As if aware of her danger, the wolf turned her +eyes on Karay, tucked her tail yet further between her legs, and +increased her speed. But here Nicholas only saw that something +happened to Karay--the borzoi was suddenly on the wolf, and they +rolled together down into a gully just in front of them. + +That instant, when Nicholas saw the wolf struggling in the gully +with the dogs, while from under them could be seen her gray hair and +outstretched hind leg and her frightened choking head, with her ears +laid back (Karay was pinning her by the throat), was the happiest +moment of his life. With his hand on his saddlebow, he was ready to +dismount and stab the wolf, when she suddenly thrust her head up +from among that mass of dogs, and then her forepaws were on the edge +of the gully. She clicked her teeth (Karay no longer had her by the +throat), leaped with a movement of her hind legs out of the gully, and +having disengaged herself from the dogs, with tail tucked in again, +went forward. Karay, his hair bristling, and probably bruised or +wounded, climbed with difficulty out of the gully. + +"Oh my God! Why?" Nicholas cried in despair. + +"Uncle's" huntsman was galloping from the other side across the +wolf's path and his borzois once more stopped the animal's advance. +She was again hemmed in. + +Nicholas and his attendant, with "Uncle" and his huntsman, were +all riding round the wolf, crying "ulyulyu!" shouting and preparing to +dismount each moment that the wolf crouched back, and starting forward +again every time she shook herself and moved toward the wood where she +would be safe. + +Already, at the beginning of this chase, Daniel, hearing the +ulyulyuing, had rushed out from the wood. He saw Karay seize the wolf, +and checked his horse, supposing the affair to be over. But when he +saw that the horsemen did not dismount and that the wolf shook herself +and ran for safety, Daniel set his chestnut galloping, not at the wolf +but straight toward the wood, just as Karay had run to cut the +animal off. As a result of this, he galloped up to the wolf just +when she had been stopped a second time by "Uncle's" borzois. + +Daniel galloped up silently, holding a naked dagger in his left hand +and thrashing the laboring sides of his chestnut horse with his whip +as if it were a flail. + +Nicholas neither saw nor heard Daniel until the chestnut, +breathing heavily, panted past him, and he heard the fall of a body +and saw Daniel lying on the wolf's back among the dogs, trying to +seize her by the ears. It was evident to the dogs, the hunters, and to +the wolf herself that all was now over. The terrified wolf pressed +back her ears and tried to rise, but the borzois stuck to her. +Daniel rose a little, took a step, and with his whole weight, as if +lying down to rest, fell on the wolf, seizing her by the ears. +Nicholas was about to stab her, but Daniel whispered, "Don't! We'll +gag her!" and, changing his position, set his foot on the wolf's neck. +A stick was thrust between her jaws and she was fastened with a leash, +as if bridled, her legs were bound together, and Daniel rolled her +over once or twice from side to side. + +With happy, exhausted faces, they laid the old wolf, alive, on a +shying and snorting horse and, accompanied by the dogs yelping at her, +took her to the place where they were all to meet. The hounds had +killed two of the cubs and the borzois three. The huntsmen assembled +with their booty and their stories, and all came to look at the +wolf, which, with her broad-browed head hanging down and the bitten +stick between her jaws, gazed with great glassy eyes at this crowd +of dogs and men surrounding her. When she was touched, she jerked +her bound legs and looked wildly yet simply at everybody. Old Count +Rostov also rode up and touched the wolf. + +"Oh, what a formidable one!" said he. "A formidable one, eh?" he +asked Daniel, who was standing near. + +"Yes, your excellency," answered Daniel, quickly doffing his cap. + +The count remembered the wolf he had let slip and his encounter with +Daniel. + +"Ah, but you are a crusty fellow, friend!" said the count. + +For sole reply Daniel gave him a shy, childlike, meek, and amiable +smile. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The old count went home, and Natasha and Petya promised to return +very soon, but as it was still early the hunt went farther. At +midday they put the hounds into a ravine thickly overgrown with +young trees. Nicholas standing in a fallow field could see all his +whips. + +Facing him lay a field of winter rye, there his own huntsman stood +alone in a hollow behind a hazel bush. The hounds had scarcely been +loosed before Nicholas heard one he knew, Voltorn, giving tongue at +intervals; other hounds joined in, now pausing and now again giving +tongue. A moment later he heard a cry from the wooded ravine that a +fox had been found, and the whole pack, joining together, rushed along +the ravine toward the ryefield and away from Nicholas. + +He saw the whips in their red caps galloping along the edge of the +ravine, he even saw the hounds, and was expecting a fox to show itself +at any moment on the ryefield opposite. + +The huntsman standing in the hollow moved and loosed his borzois, +and Nicholas saw a queer, short-legged red fox with a fine brush going +hard across the field. The borzois bore down on it.... Now they drew +close to the fox which began to dodge between the field in sharper and +sharper curves, trailing its brush, when suddenly a strange white +borzoi dashed in followed by a black one, and everything was in +confusion; the borzois formed a star-shaped figure, scarcely swaying +their bodies and with tails turned away from the center of the +group. Two huntsmen galloped up to the dogs; one in a red cap, the +other, a stranger, in a green coat. + +"What's this?" thought Nicholas. "Where's that huntsman from? He +is not 'Uncle's' man." + +The huntsmen got the fox, but stayed there a long time without +strapping it to the saddle. Their horses, bridled and with high +saddles, stood near them and there too the dogs were lying. The +huntsmen waved their arms and did something to the fox. Then from that +spot came the sound of a horn, with the signal agreed on in case of +a fight. + +"That's Ilagin's huntsman having a row with our Ivan," said +Nicholas' groom. + +Nicholas sent the man to call Natasha and Petya to him, and rode +at a footpace to the place where the whips were getting the hounds +together. Several of the field galloped to the spot where the fight +was going on. + +Nicholas dismounted, and with Natasha and Petya, who had ridden +up, stopped near the hounds, waiting to see how the matter would +end. Out of the bushes came the huntsman who had been fighting and +rode toward his young master, with the fox tied to his crupper. +While still at a distance he took off his cap and tried to speak +respectfully, but he was pale and breathless and his face was angry. +One of his eyes was black, but he probably was not even aware of it. + +"What has happened?" asked Nicholas. + +"A likely thing, killing a fox our dogs had hunted! And it was my +gray bitch that caught it! Go to law, indeed!... He snatches at the +fox! I gave him one with the fox. Here it is on my saddle! Do you want +a taste of this?..." said the huntsman, pointing to his dagger and +probably imagining himself still speaking to his foe. + +Nicholas, not stopping to talk to the man, asked his sister and +Petya to wait for him and rode to the spot where the enemy's, +Ilagin's, hunting party was. + +The victorious huntsman rode off to join the field, and there, +surrounded by inquiring sympathizers, recounted his exploits. + +The facts were that Ilagin, with whom the Rostovs had a quarrel +and were at law, hunted over places that belonged by custom to the +Rostovs, and had now, as if purposely, sent his men to the very +woods the Rostovs were hunting and let his man snatch a fox their dogs +had chased. + +Nicholas, though he had never seen Ilagin, with his usual absence of +moderation in judgment, hated him cordially from reports of his +arbitrariness and violence, and regarded him as his bitterest foe. +He rode in angry agitation toward him, firmly grasping his whip and +fully prepared to take the most resolute and desperate steps to punish +his enemy. + +Hardly had he passed an angle of the wood before a stout gentleman +in a beaver cap came riding toward him on a handsome raven-black +horse, accompanied by two hunt servants. + +Instead of an enemy, Nicholas found in Ilagin a stately and +courteous gentleman who was particularly anxious to make the young +count's acquaintance. Having ridden up to Nicholas, Ilagin raised +his beaver cap and said he much regretted what had occurred and +would have the man punished who had allowed himself to seize a fox +hunted by someone else's borzois. He hoped to become better acquainted +with the count and invited him to draw his covert. + +Natasha, afraid that her brother would do something dreadful, had +followed him in some excitement. Seeing the enemies exchanging +friendly greetings, she rode up to them. Ilagin lifted his beaver +cap still higher to Natasha and said, with a pleasant smile, that +the young countess resembled Diana in her passion for the chase as +well as in her beauty, of which he had heard much. + +To expiate his huntsman's offense, Ilagin pressed the Rostovs to +come to an upland of his about a mile away which he usually kept for +himself and which, he said, swarmed with hares. Nicholas agreed, and +the hunt, now doubled, moved on. + +The way to Iligin's upland was across the fields. The hunt +servants fell into line. The masters rode together. "Uncle," Rostov, +and Ilagin kept stealthily glancing at one another's dogs, trying +not to be observed by their companions and searching uneasily for +rivals to their own borzois. + +Rostov was particularly struck by the beauty of a small, +pure-bred, red-spotted bitch on Ilagin's leash, slender but with +muscles like steel, a delicate muzzle, and prominent black eyes. He +had heard of the swiftness of Ilagin's borzois, and in that +beautiful bitch saw a rival to his own Milka. + +In the middle of a sober conversation begun by Ilagin about the +year's harvest, Nicholas pointed to the red-spotted bitch. + +"A fine little bitch, that!" said he in a careless tone. "Is she +swift?" + +"That one? Yes, she's a good dog, gets what she's after," answered +Ilagin indifferently, of the red-spotted bitch Erza, for which, a year +before, he had given a neighbor three families of house serfs. "So +in your parts, too, the harvest is nothing to boast of, Count?" he +went on, continuing the conversation they had begun. And considering +it polite to return the young count's compliment, Ilagin looked at his +borzois and picked out Milka who attracted his attention by her +breadth. "That black-spotted one of yours is fine--well shaped!" +said he. + +"Yes, she's fast enough," replied Nicholas, and thought: "If only +a full-grown hare would cross the field now I'd show you what sort +of borzoi she is," and turning to his groom, he said he would give a +ruble to anyone who found a hare. + +"I don't understand," continued Ilagin, "how some sportsmen can be +so jealous about game and dogs. For myself, I can tell you, Count, I +enjoy riding in company such as this... what could be better?" (he +again raised his cap to Natasha) "but as for counting skins and what +one takes, I don't care about that." + +"Of course not!" + +"Or being upset because someone else's borzoi and not mine catches +something. All I care about is to enjoy seeing the chase, is it not +so, Count? For I consider that..." + +"A-tu!" came the long-drawn cry of one of the borzoi whippers-in, +who had halted. He stood on a knoll in the stubble, holding his whip +aloft, and again repeated his long-drawn cry, "A-tu!" (This call and +the uplifted whip meant that he saw a sitting hare.) + +"Ah, he has found one, I think," said Ilagin carelessly. "Yes, we +must ride up.... Shall we both course it?" answered Nicholas, seeing +in Erza and "Uncle's" red Rugay two rivals he had never yet had a +chance of pitting against his own borzois. "And suppose they outdo +my Milka at once!" he thought as he rode with "Uncle" and Ilagin +toward the hare. + +"A full-grown one?" asked Ilagin as he approached the whip who had +sighted the hare--and not without agitation he looked round and +whistled to Erza. + +"And you, Michael Nikanorovich?" he said, addressing "Uncle." + +The latter was riding with a sullen expression on his face. + +"How can I join in? Why, you've given a village for each of your +borzois! That's it, come on! Yours are worth thousands. Try yours +against one another, you two, and I'll look on!" + +"Rugay, hey, hey!" he shouted. "Rugayushka!" he added, involuntarily +by this diminutive expressing his affection and the hopes he placed on +this red borzoi. Natasha saw and felt the agitation the two elderly +men and her brother were trying to conceal, and was herself excited by +it. + +The huntsman stood halfway up the knoll holding up his whip and +the gentlefolk rode up to him at a footpace; the hounds that were +far off on the horizon turned away from the hare, and the whips, but +not the gentlefolk, also moved away. All were moving slowly and +sedately. + +"How is it pointing?" asked Nicholas, riding a hundred paces +toward the whip who had sighted the hare. + +But before the whip could reply, the hare, scenting the frost coming +next morning, was unable to rest and leaped up. The pack on leash +rushed downhill in full cry after the hare, and from all sides the +borzois that were not on leash darted after the hounds and the hare. +All the hunt, who had been moving slowly, shouted, "Stop!" calling +in the hounds, while the borzoi whips, with a cry of "A-tu!" galloped +across the field setting the borzois on the hare. The tranquil Ilagin, +Nicholas, Natasha, and "Uncle" flew, reckless of where and how they +went, seeing only the borzois and the hare and fearing only to lose +sight even for an instant of the chase. The hare they had started +was a strong and swift one. When he jumped up he did not run at +once, but pricked his ears listening to the shouting and trampling +that resounded from all sides at once. He took a dozen bounds, not +very quickly, letting the borzois gain on him, and, finally having +chosen his direction and realized his danger, laid back his ears and +rushed off headlong. He had been lying in the stubble, but in front of +him was the autumn sowing where the ground was soft. The two borzois +of the huntsman who had sighted him, having been the nearest, were the +first to see and pursue him, but they had not gone far before Ilagin's +red-spotted Erza passed them, got within a length, flew at the hare +with terrible swiftness aiming at his scut, and, thinking she had +seized him, rolled over like a ball. The hare arched his back and +bounded off yet more swiftly. From behind Erza rushed the +broad-haunched, black-spotted Milka and began rapidly gaining on the +hare. + +"Milashka, dear!" rose Nicholas' triumphant cry. It looked as if +Milka would immediately pounce on the hare, but she overtook him and +flew past. The hare had squatted. Again the beautiful Erza reached +him, but when close to the hare's scut paused as if measuring the +distance, so as not to make a mistake this time but seize his hind +leg. + +"Erza, darling!" Ilagin wailed in a voice unlike his own. Erza did +not hearken to his appeal. At the very moment when she would have +seized her prey, the hare moved and darted along the balk between +the winter rye and the stubble. Again Erza and Milka were abreast, +running like a pair of carriage horses, and began to overtake the +hare, but it was easier for the hare to run on the balk and the +borzois did not overtake him so quickly. + +"Rugay, Rugayushka! That's it, come on!" came a third voice just +then, and "Uncle's" red borzoi, straining and curving its back, caught +up with the two foremost borzois, pushed ahead of them regardless of +the terrible strain, put on speed close to the hare, knocked it off +the balk onto the ryefield, again put on speed still more viciously, +sinking to his knees in the muddy field, and all one could see was +how, muddying his back, he rolled over with the hare. A ring of +borzois surrounded him. A moment later everyone had drawn up round the +crowd of dogs. Only the delighted "Uncle" dismounted, and cut off a +pad, shaking the hare for the blood to drip off, and anxiously +glancing round with restless eyes while his arms and legs twitched. He +spoke without himself knowing whom to or what about. "That's it, +come on! That's a dog!... There, it has beaten them all, the +thousand-ruble as well as the one-ruble borzois. That's it, come +on!" said he, panting and looking wrathfully around as if he were +abusing someone, as if they were all his enemies and had insulted him, +and only now had he at last succeeded in justifying himself. "There +are your thousand-ruble ones.... That's it, come on!..." + +"Rugay, here's a pad for you!" he said, throwing down the hare's +muddy pad. "You've deserved it, that's it, come on!" + +"She'd tired herself out, she'd run it down three times by herself," +said Nicholas, also not listening to anyone and regardless of +whether he were heard or not. + +"But what is there in running across it like that?" said Ilagin's +groom. + +"Once she had missed it and turned it away, any mongrel could take +it," Ilagin was saying at the same time, breathless from his gallop +and his excitement. At the same moment Natasha, without drawing +breath, screamed joyously, ecstatically, and so piercingly that it set +everyone's ear tingling. By that shriek she expressed what the +others expressed by all talking at once, and it was so strange that +she must herself have been ashamed of so wild a cry and everyone +else would have been amazed at it at any other time. "Uncle" himself +twisted up the hare, threw it neatly and smartly across his horse's +back as if by that gesture he meant to rebuke everybody, and, with +an air of not wishing to speak to anyone, mounted his bay and rode +off. The others all followed, dispirited and shamefaced, and only much +later were they able to regain their former affectation of +indifference. For a long time they continued to look at red Rugay who, +his arched back spattered with mud and clanking the ring of his leash, +walked along just behind "Uncle's" horse with the serene air of a +conqueror. + +"Well, I am like any other dog as long as it's not a question of +coursing. But when it is, then look out!" his appearance seemed to +Nicholas to be saying. + +When, much later, "Uncle" rode up to Nicholas and began talking to +him, he felt flattered that, after what had happened, "Uncle" +deigned to speak to him. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Toward evening Ilagin took leave of Nicholas, who found that they +were so far from home that he accepted "Uncle's" offer that the +hunting party should spend the night in his little village of +Mikhaylovna. + +"And if you put up at my house that will be better still. That's it, +come on!" said "Uncle." "You see it's damp weather, and you could +rest, and the little countess could be driven home in a trap." + +"Uncle's" offer was accepted. A huntsman was sent to Otradnoe for +a trap, while Nicholas rode with Natasha and Petya to "Uncle's" house. + +Some five male domestic serfs, big and little, rushed out to the front +porch to meet their master. A score of women serfs, old and young, as +well as children, popped out from the back entrance to have a look at +the hunters who were arriving. The presence of Natasha--a woman, a +lady, and on horseback--raised the curiosity of the serfs to such a +degree that many of them came up to her, stared her in the face, and +unabashed by her presence made remarks about her as though she were +some prodigy on show and not a human being able to hear or understand +what was said about her. + +"Arinka! Look, she sits sideways! There she sits and her skirt +dangles.... See, she's got a little hunting horn!" + +"Goodness gracious! See her knife?..." + +"Isn't she a Tartar!" + +"How is it you didn't go head over heels?" asked the boldest of all, +addressing Natasha directly. + +"Uncle" dismounted at the porch of his little wooden house which +stood in the midst of an overgrown garden and, after a glance at his +retainers, shouted authoritatively that the superfluous ones should +take themselves off and that all necessary preparations should be made +to receive the guests and the visitors. + +The serfs all dispersed. "Uncle" lifted Natasha off her horse and +taking her hand led her up the rickety wooden steps of the porch. +The house, with its bare, unplastered log walls, was not overclean--it +did not seem that those living in it aimed at keeping it spotless--but +neither was it noticeably neglected. In the entry there was a smell of +fresh apples, and wolf and fox skins hung about. + +"Uncle" led the visitors through the anteroom into a small hall with +a folding table and red chairs, then into the drawing room with a +round birchwood table and a sofa, and finally into his private room +where there was a tattered sofa, a worn carpet, and portraits of +Suvorov, of the host's father and mother, and of himself in military +uniform. The study smelt strongly of tobacco and dogs. "Uncle" asked +his visitors to sit down and make themselves at home, and then went +out of the room. Rugay, his back still muddy, came into the room and +lay down on the sofa, cleaning himself with his tongue and teeth. +Leading from the study was a passage in which a partition with +ragged curtains could be seen. From behind this came women's +laughter and whispers. Natasha, Nicholas, and Petya took off their +wraps and sat down on the sofa. Petya, leaning on his elbow, fell +asleep at once. Natasha and Nicholas were silent. Their faces +glowed, they were hungry and very cheerful. They looked at one another +(now that the hunt was over and they were in the house, Nicholas no +longer considered it necessary to show his manly superiority over +his sister), Natasha gave him a wink, and neither refrained long +from bursting into a peal of ringing laughter even before they had a +pretext ready to account for it. + +After a while "Uncle" came in, in a Cossack coat, blue trousers, and +small top boots. And Natasha felt that this costume, the very one +she had regarded with surprise and amusement at Otradnoe, was just the +right thing and not at all worse than a swallow-tail or frock coat. +"Uncle" too was in high spirits and far from being offended by the +brother's and sister's laughter (it could never enter his head that +they might be laughing at his way of life) he himself joined in the +merriment. + +"That's right, young countess, that's it, come on! I never saw +anyone like her!" said he, offering Nicholas a pipe with a long stem +and, with a practiced motion of three fingers, taking down another +that had been cut short. "She's ridden all day like a man, and is as +fresh as ever!" + +Soon after "Uncle's" reappearance the door was opened, evidently +from the sound by a barefooted girl, and a stout, rosy, good-looking +woman of about forty, with a double chin and full red lips, entered +carrying a large loaded tray. With hospitable dignity and cordiality +in her glance and in every motion, she looked at the visitors and, +with a pleasant smile, bowed respectfully. In spite of her exceptional +stoutness, which caused her to protrude her chest and stomach and +throw back her head, this woman (who was "Uncle's" housekeeper) trod +very lightly. She went to the table, set down the tray, and with her +plump white hands deftly took from it the bottles and various hors +d'oeuvres and dishes and arranged them on the table. When she had +finished, she stepped aside and stopped at the door with a smile on +her face. "Here I am. I am she! Now do you understand 'Uncle'?" her +expression said to Rostov. How could one help understanding? Not +only Nicholas, but even Natasha understood the meaning of his puckered +brow and the happy complacent smile that slightly puckered his lips +when Anisya Fedorovna entered. On the tray was a bottle of herb +wine, different kinds of vodka, pickled mushrooms, rye cakes made with +buttermilk, honey in the comb, still mead and sparkling mead, +apples, nuts (raw and roasted), and nut-and-honey sweets. Afterwards +she brought a freshly roasted chicken, ham, preserves made with honey, +and preserves made with sugar. + +All this was the fruit of Anisya Fedorovna's housekeeping, +gathered and prepared by her. The smell and taste of it all had a +smack of Anisya Fedorovna herself: a savor of juiciness, +cleanliness, whiteness, and pleasant smiles. + +"Take this, little Lady-Countess!" she kept saying, as she offered +Natasha first one thing and then another. + +Natasha ate of everything and thought she had never seen or eaten +such buttermilk cakes, such aromatic jam, such honey-and-nut sweets, +or such a chicken anywhere. Anisya Fedorovna left the room. + +After supper, over their cherry brandy, Rostov and "Uncle" talked of +past and future hunts, of Rugay and Ilagin's dogs, while Natasha sat +upright on the sofa and listened with sparkling eyes. She tried +several times to wake Petya that he might eat something, but he only +muttered incoherent words without waking up. Natasha felt so +lighthearted and happy in these novel surroundings that she only +feared the trap would come for her too soon. After a casual pause, +such as often occurs when receiving friends for the first time in +one's own house, "Uncle," answering a thought that was in his +visitors' mind, said: + +"This, you see, is how I am finishing my days... Death will come. +That's it, come on! Nothing will remain. Then why harm anyone?" + +"Uncle's" face was very significant and even handsome as he said +this. Involuntarily Rostov recalled all the good he had heard about +him from his father and the neighbors. Throughout the whole province +"Uncle" had the reputation of being the most honorable and +disinterested of cranks. They called him in to decide family disputes, +chose him as executor, confided secrets to him, elected him to be a +justice and to other posts; but he always persistently refused +public appointments, passing the autumn and spring in the fields on +his bay gelding, sitting at home in winter, and lying in his overgrown +garden in summer. + +"Why don't you enter the service, Uncle?" + +"I did once, but gave it up. I am not fit for it. That's it, come +on! I can't make head or tail of it. That's for you--I haven't +brains enough. Now, hunting is another matter--that's it, come on! +Open the door, there!" he shouted. "Why have you shut it?" + +The door at the end of the passage led to the huntsmen's room, as +they called the room for the hunt servants. + +There was a rapid patter of bare feet, and an unseen hand opened the +door into the huntsmen's room, from which came the clear sounds of a +balalayka on which someone, who was evidently a master of the art, was +playing. Natasha had been listening to those strains for some time and +now went out into the passage to hear better. + +"That's Mitka, my coachman.... I have got him a good balalayka. +I'm fond of it," said "Uncle." + +It was the custom for Mitka to play the balalayka in the +huntsmen's room when "Uncle" returned from the chase. "Uncle" was fond +of such music. + +"How good! Really very good!" said Nicholas with some +unintentional superciliousness, as if ashamed to confess that the +sounds pleased him very much. + +"Very good?" said Natasha reproachfully, noticing her brother's +tone. "Not 'very good' it's simply delicious!" + +Just as "Uncle's" pickled mushrooms, honey, and cherry brandy had +seemed to her the best in the world, so also that song, at that +moment, seemed to her the acme of musical delight. + +"More, please, more!" cried Natasha at the door as soon as the +balalayka ceased. Mitka tuned up afresh, and recommenced thrumming the +balalayka to the air of My Lady, with trills and variations. "Uncle" +sat listening, slightly smiling, with his head on one side. The air +was repeated a hundred times. The balalayka was retuned several +times and the same notes were thrummed again, but the listeners did +not grow weary of it and wished to hear it again and again. Anisya +Fedorovna came in and leaned her portly person against the doorpost. + +"You like listening?" she said to Natasha, with a smile extremely +like "Uncle's." "That's a good player of ours," she added. + +"He doesn't play that part right!" said "Uncle" suddenly, with an +energetic gesture. "Here he ought to burst out--that's it, come +on!--ought to burst out." + +"Do you play then?" asked Natasha. + +"Uncle" did not answer, but smiled. + +"Anisya, go and see if the strings of my guitar are all right. I +haven't touched it for a long time. That's it--come on! I've given +it up." + +Anisya Fedorovna, with her light step, willingly went to fulfill her +errand and brought back the guitar. + +Without looking at anyone, "Uncle" blew the dust off it and, tapping +the case with his bony fingers, tuned the guitar and settled himself +in his armchair. He took the guitar a little above the fingerboard, +arching his left elbow with a somewhat theatrical gesture, and, with a +wink at Anisya Fedorovna, struck a single chord, pure and sonorous, +and then quietly, smoothly, and confidently began playing in very slow +time, not My Lady, but the well-known song: Came a maiden down the +street. The tune, played with precision and in exact time, began to +thrill in the hearts of Nicholas and Natasha, arousing in them the +same kind of sober mirth as radiated from Anisya Fedorovna's whole +being. Anisya Fedorovna flushed, and drawing her kerchief over her +face went laughing out of the room. "Uncle" continued to play +correctly, carefully, with energetic firmness, looking with a +changed and inspired expression at the spot where Anisya Fedorovna had +just stood. Something seemed to be laughing a little on one side of +his face under his gray mustaches, especially as the song grew brisker +and the time quicker and when, here and there, as he ran his fingers +over the strings, something seemed to snap. + +"Lovely, lovely! Go on, Uncle, go on!" shouted Natasha as soon as he +had finished. She jumped up and hugged and kissed him. "Nicholas, +Nicholas!" she said, turning to her brother, as if asking him: "What +is it moves me so?" + +Nicholas too was greatly pleased by "Uncle's" playing, and "Uncle" +played the piece over again. Anisya Fedorovna's smiling face +reappeared in the doorway and behind hers other faces... + + Fetching water clear and sweet, + Stop, dear maiden, I entreat-- + +played "Uncle" once more, running his fingers skillfully over the +strings, and then he stopped short and jerked his shoulders. + +"Go on, Uncle dear," Natasha wailed in an imploring tone as if her +life depended on it. + +"Uncle" rose, and it was as if there were two men in him: one of +them smiled seriously at the merry fellow, while the merry fellow +struck a naive and precise attitude preparatory to a folk dance. + +"Now then, niece!" he exclaimed, waving to Natasha the hand that had +just struck a chord. + +Natasha threw off the shawl from her shoulders, ran forward to +face "Uncle," and setting her arms akimbo also made a motion with +her shoulders and struck an attitude. + +Where, how, and when had this young countess, educated by an emigree +French governess, imbibed from the Russian air she breathed that +spirit and obtained that manner which the pas de chale* would, one +would have supposed, long ago have effaced? But the spirit and the +movements were those inimitable and unteachable Russian ones that +"Uncle" had expected of her. As soon as she had struck her pose, and +smiled triumphantly, proudly, and with sly merriment, the fear that +had at first seized Nicholas and the others that she might not do +the right thing was at an end, and they were already admiring her. + + +*The French shawl dance. + + +She did the right thing with such precision, such complete +precision, that Anisya Fedorovna, who had at once handed her the +handkerchief she needed for the dance, had tears in her eyes, though +she laughed as she watched this slim, graceful countess, reared in +silks and velvets and so different from herself, who yet was able to +understand all that was in Anisya and in Anisya's father and mother +and aunt, and in every Russian man and woman. + +"Well, little countess; that's it--come on!" cried "Uncle," with a +joyous laugh, having finished the dance. "Well done, niece! Now a fine +young fellow must be found as husband for you. That's it--come on!" + +"He's chosen already," said Nicholas smiling. + +"Oh?" said "Uncle" in surprise, looking inquiringly at Natasha, +who nodded her head with a happy smile. + +"And such a one!" she said. But as soon as she had said it a new +train of thoughts and feelings arose in her. "What did Nicholas' smile +mean when he said 'chosen already'? Is he glad of it or not? It is +as if he thought my Bolkonski would not approve of or understand our +gaiety. But he would understand it all. Where is he now?" she thought, +and her face suddenly became serious. But this lasted only a second. +"Don't dare to think about it," she said to herself, and sat down +again smilingly beside "Uncle," begging him to play something more. + +"Uncle" played another song and a valse; then after a pause he +cleared his throat and sang his favorite hunting song: + + As 'twas growing dark last night + Fell the snow so soft and light... + + +"Uncle" sang as peasants sing, with full and naive conviction that +the whole meaning of a song lies in the words and that the tune +comes of itself, and that apart from the words there is no tune, which +exists only to give measure to the words. As a result of this the +unconsidered tune, like the song of a bird, was extraordinarily +good. Natasha was in ecstasies over "Uncle's" singing. She resolved to +give up learning the harp and to play only the guitar. She asked +"Uncle" for his guitar and at once found the chords of the song. + +After nine o'clock two traps and three mounted men, who had been +sent to look for them, arrived to fetch Natasha and Petya. The count +and countess did not know where they were and were very anxious, +said one of the men. + +Petya was carried out like a log and laid in the larger of the two +traps. Natasha and Nicholas got into the other. "Uncle" wrapped +Natasha up warmly and took leave of her with quite a new tenderness. +He accompanied them on foot as far as the bridge that could not be +crossed, so that they had to go round by the ford, and he sent +huntsmen to ride in front with lanterns. + +"Good-by, dear niece," his voice called out of the darkness--not the +voice Natasha had known previously, but the one that had sung As 'twas +growing dark last night. + +In the village through which they passed there were red lights and a +cheerful smell of smoke. + +"What a darling Uncle is!" said Natasha, when they had come out onto +the highroad. + +"Yes," returned Nicholas. "You're not cold?" + +"No. I'm quite, quite all right. I feel so comfortable!" answered +Natasha, almost perplexed by her feelings. They remained silent a long +while. The night was dark and damp. They could not see the horses, but +only heard them splashing through the unseen mud. + +What was passing in that receptive childlike soul that so eagerly +caught and assimilated all the diverse impressions of life? How did +they all find place in her? But she was very happy. As they were +nearing home she suddenly struck up the air of As 'twas growing dark +last night--the tune of which she had all the way been trying to get +and had at last caught. + +"Got it?" said Nicholas. + +"What were you thinking about just now, Nicholas?" inquired Natasha. + +They were fond of asking one another that question. + +"I?" said Nicholas, trying to remember. "Well, you see, first I +thought that Rugay, the red hound, was like Uncle, and that if he were +a man he would always keep Uncle near him, if not for his riding, then +for his manner. What a good fellow Uncle is! Don't you think so?... +Well, and you?" + +"I? Wait a bit, wait.... Yes, first I thought that we are driving +along and imagining that we are going home, but that heaven knows +where we are really going in the darkness, and that we shall arrive +and suddenly find that we are not in Otradnoe, but in Fairyland. And +then I thought... No, nothing else." + +"I know, I expect you thought of him," said Nicholas, smiling as +Natasha knew by the sound of his voice. + +"No," said Natasha, though she had in reality been thinking about +Prince Andrew at the same time as of the rest, and of how he would +have liked "Uncle." "And then I was saying to myself all the way, 'How +well Anisya carried herself, how well!'" And Nicholas heard her +spontaneous, happy, ringing laughter. "And do you know," she +suddenly said, "I know that I shall never again be as happy and +tranquil as I am now." + +"Rubbish, nonsense, humbug!" exclaimed Nicholas, and he thought: +"How charming this Natasha of mine is! I have no other friend like her +and never shall have. Why should she marry? We might always drive +about together!" + +"What a darling this Nicholas of mine is!" thought Natasha. + +"Ah, there are still lights in the drawingroom!" she said, +pointing to the windows of the house that gleamed invitingly in the +moist velvety darkness of the night. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Count Ilya Rostov had resigned the position of Marshal of the Nobility +because it involved him in too much expense, but still his affairs did +not improve. Natasha and Nicholas often noticed their parents +conferring together anxiously and privately and heard suggestions of +selling the fine ancestral Rostov house and estate near Moscow. It was +not necessary to entertain so freely as when the count had been +Marshal, and life at Otradnoe was quieter than in former years, but +still the enormous house and its lodges were full of people and more +than twenty sat down to table every day. These were all their own +people who had settled down in the house almost as members of the +family, or persons who were, it seemed, obliged to live in the count's +house. Such were Dimmler the musician and his wife, Vogel the dancing +master and his family, Belova, an old maiden lady, an inmate of the +house, and many others such as Petya's tutors, the girls' former +governess, and other people who simply found it preferable and more +advantageous to live in the count's house than at home. They had not +as many visitors as before, but the old habits of life without which +the count and countess could not conceive of existence remained +unchanged. There was still the hunting establishment which Nicholas +had even enlarged, the same fifty horses and fifteen grooms in the +stables, the same expensive presents and dinner parties to the whole +district on name days; there were still the count's games of whist and +boston, at which--spreading out his cards so that everybody could see +them--he let himself be plundered of hundreds of rubles every day by +his neighbors, who looked upon an opportunity to play a rubber with +Count Rostov as a most profitable source of income. + +The count moved in his affairs as in a huge net, trying not to +believe that he was entangled but becoming more and more so at every +step, and feeling too feeble to break the meshes or to set to work +carefully and patiently to disentangle them. The countess, with her +loving heart, felt that her children were being ruined, that it was +not the count's fault for he could not help being what he was--that +(though he tried to hide it) he himself suffered from the +consciousness of his own and his children's ruin, and she tried to +find means of remedying the position. From her feminine point of +view she could see only one solution, namely, for Nicholas to marry +a rich heiress. She felt this to be their last hope and that if +Nicholas refused the match she had found for him, she would have to +abandon the hope of ever getting matters right. This match was with +Julie Karagina, the daughter of excellent and virtuous parents, a girl +the Rostovs had known from childhood, and who had now become a wealthy +heiress through the death of the last of her brothers. + +The countess had written direct to Julie's mother in Moscow +suggesting a marriage between their children and had received a +favorable answer from her. Karagina had replied that for her part +she was agreeable, and everything depend on her daughter's +inclination. She invited Nicholas to come to Moscow. + +Several times the countess, with tears in her eyes, told her son +that now both her daughters were settled, her only wish was to see him +married. She said she could lie down in her grave peacefully if that +were accomplished. Then she told him that she knew of a splendid +girl and tried to discover what he thought about marriage. + +At other times she praised Julie to him and advised him to go to +Moscow during the holidays to amuse himself. Nicholas guessed what his +mother's remarks were leading to and during one of these conversations +induced her to speak quite frankly. She told him that her only hope of +getting their affairs disentangled now lay in his marrying Julie +Karagina. + +"But, Mamma, suppose I loved a girl who has no fortune, would you +expect me to sacrifice my feelings and my honor for the sake of +money?" he asked his mother, not realizing the cruelty of his question +and only wishing to show his noble-mindedness. + +"No, you have not understood me," said his mother, not knowing how +to justify herself. "You have not understood me, Nikolenka. It is your +happiness I wish for," she added, feeling that she was telling an +untruth and was becoming entangled. She began to cry. + +"Mamma, don't cry! Only tell me that you wish it, and you know I +will give my life, anything, to put you at ease," said Nicholas. "I +would sacrifice anything for you--even my feelings." + +But the countess did not want the question put like that: she did +not want a sacrifice from her son, she herself wished to make a +sacrifice for him. + +"No, you have not understood me, don't let us talk about it," she +replied, wiping away her tears. + +"Maybe I do love a poor girl," said Nicholas to himself. "Am I to +sacrifice my feelings and my honor for money? I wonder how Mamma could +speak so to me. Because Sonya is poor I must not love her," he +thought, "must not respond to her faithful, devoted love? Yet I should +certainly be happier with her than with some doll-like Julie. I can +always sacrifice my feelings for my family's welfare," he said to +himself, "but I can't coerce my feelings. If I love Sonya, that +feeling is for me stronger and higher than all else." + +Nicholas did not go to Moscow, and the countess did not renew the +conversation with him about marriage. She saw with sorrow, and +sometimes with exasperation, symptoms of a growing attachment +between her son and the portionless Sonya. Though she blamed herself +for it, she could not refrain from grumbling at and worrying Sonya, +often pulling her up without reason, addressing her stiffly as "my +dear," and using the formal "you" instead of the intimate "thou" in +speaking to her. The kindhearted countess was the more vexed with +Sonya because that poor, dark-eyed niece of hers was so meek, so kind, +so devotedly grateful to her benefactors, and so faithfully, +unchangingly, and unselfishly in love with Nicholas, that there were +no grounds for finding fault with her. + +Nicholas was spending the last of his leave at home. A fourth letter +had come from Prince Andrew, from Rome, in which he wrote that he +would have been on his way back to Russia long ago had not his wound +unexpectedly reopened in the warm climate, which obliged him to +defer his return till the beginning of the new year. Natasha was still +as much in love with her betrothed, found the same comfort in that +love, and was still as ready to throw herself into all the pleasures +of life as before; but at the end of the fourth month of their +separation she began to have fits of depression which she could not +master. She felt sorry for herself: sorry that she was being wasted +all this time and of no use to anyone--while she felt herself so +capable of loving and being loved. + +Things were not cheerful in the Rostovs' home. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Christmas came and except for the ceremonial Mass, the solemn and +wearisome Christmas congratulations from neighbors and servants, and +the new dresses everyone put on, there were no special festivities, +though the calm frost of twenty degrees Reaumur, the dazzling sunshine +by day, and the starlight of the winter nights seemed to call for some +special celebration of the season. + +On the third day of Christmas week, after the midday dinner, all the +inmates of the house dispersed to various rooms. It was the dullest +time of the day. Nicholas, who had been visiting some neighbors that +morning, was asleep on the sitting-room sofa. The old count was +resting in his study. Sonya sat in the drawing room at the round +table, copying a design for embroidery. The countess was playing +patience. Nastasya Ivanovna the buffoon sat with a sad face at the +window with two old ladies. Natasha came into the room, went up to +Sonya, glanced at what she was doing, and then went up to her mother +and stood without speaking. + +"Why are you wandering about like an outcast?" asked her mother. +"What do you want?" + +"Him... I want him... now, this minute! I want him!" said Natasha, +with glittering eyes and no sign of a smile. + +The countess lifted her head and looked attentively at her daughter. + +"Don't look at me, Mamma! Don't look; I shall cry directly." + +"Sit down with me a little," said the countess. + +"Mamma, I want him. Why should I be wasted like this, Mamma?" + +Her voice broke, tears gushed from her eyes, and she turned +quickly to hide them and left the room. + +She passed into the sitting room, stood there thinking awhile, and +then went into the maids' room. There an old maidservant was grumbling +at a young girl who stood panting, having just run in through the cold +from the serfs' quarters. + +"Stop playing--there's a time for everything," said the old woman. + +"Let her alone, Kondratevna," said Natasha. "Go, Mavrushka, go." + +Having released Mavrushka, Natasha crossed the dancing hall and went +to the vestibule. There an old footman and two young ones were playing +cards. They broke off and rose as she entered. + +"What can I do with them?" thought Natasha. + +"Oh, Nikita, please go... where can I send him?... Yes, go to the +yard and fetch a fowl, please, a cock, and you, Misha, bring me some +oats." + +"Just a few oats?" said Misha, cheerfully and readily. + +"Go, go quickly," the old man urged him. + +"And you, Theodore, get me a piece of chalk." + +On her way past the butler's pantry she told them to set a +samovar, though it was not at all the time for tea. + +Foka, the butler, was the most ill-tempered person in the house. +Natasha liked to test her power over him. He distrusted the order +and asked whether the samovar was really wanted. + +"Oh dear, what a young lady!" said Foka, pretending to frown at +Natasha. + +No one in the house sent people about or gave them as much trouble +as Natasha did. She could not see people unconcernedly, but had to +send them on some errand. She seemed to be trying whether any of +them would get angry or sulky with her; but the serfs fulfilled no +one's orders so readily as they did hers. "What can I do, where can +I go?" thought she, as she went slowly along the passage. + +"Nastasya Ivanovna, what sort of children shall I have?" she asked +the buffoon, who was coming toward her in a woman's jacket. + +"Why, fleas, crickets, grasshoppers," answered the buffoon. + +"O Lord, O Lord, it's always the same! Oh, where am I to go? What am +I to do with myself?" And tapping with her heels, she ran quickly +upstairs to see Vogel and his wife who lived on the upper story. + +Two governesses were sitting with the Vogels at a table, on which +were plates of raisins, walnuts, and almonds. The governesses were +discussing whether it was cheaper to live in Moscow or Odessa. Natasha +sat down, listened to their talk with a serious and thoughtful air, +and then got up again. + +"The island of Madagascar," she said, "Ma-da-gas-car," she repeated, +articulating each syllable distinctly, and, not replying to Madame +Schoss who asked her what she was saying, she went out of the room. + +Her brother Petya was upstairs too; with the man in attendance on +him he was preparing fireworks to let off that night. + +"Petya! Petya!" she called to him. "Carry me downstairs." + +Petya ran up and offered her his back. She jumped on it, putting her +arms round his neck, and he pranced along with her. + +"No, don't... the island of Madagascar!" she said, and jumping off +his back she went downstairs. + +Having as it were reviewed her kingdom, tested her power, and made +sure that everyone was submissive, but that all the same it was +dull, Natasha betook herself to the ballroom, picked up her guitar, +sat down in a dark corner behind a bookcase, and began to run her +fingers over the strings in the bass, picking out a passage she +recalled from an opera she had heard in Petersburg with Prince Andrew. +What she drew from the guitar would have had no meaning for other +listeners, but in her imagination a whole series of reminiscences +arose from those sounds. She sat behind the bookcase with her eyes +fixed on a streak of light escaping from the pantry door and +listened to herself and pondered. She was in a mood for brooding on +the past. + +Sonya passed to the pantry with a glass in her hand. Natasha glanced +at her and at the crack in the pantry door, and it seemed to her +that she remembered the light falling through that crack once before +and Sonya passing with a glass in her hand. "Yes it was exactly the +same," thought Natasha. + +"Sonya, what is this?" she cried, twanging a thick string. + +"Oh, you are there!" said Sonya with a start, and came near and +listened. "I don't know. A storm?" she ventured timidly, afraid of +being wrong. + +"There! That's just how she started and just how she came up smiling +timidly when all this happened before," thought Natasha, "and in +just the same way I thought there was something lacking in her." + +"No, it's the chorus from The Water-Carrier, listen!" and Natasha +sang the air of the chorus so that Sonya should catch it. "Where +were you going?" she asked. + +"To change the water in this glass. I am just finishing the design." + +"You always find something to do, but I can't," said Natasha. "And +where's Nicholas?" + +"Asleep, I think." + +"Sonya, go and wake him," said Natasha. "Tell him I want him to come +and sing." + +She sat awhile, wondering what the meaning of it all having happened +before could be, and without solving this problem, or at all +regretting not having done so, she again passed in fancy to the time +when she was with him and he was looking at her with a lover's eyes. + +"Oh, if only he would come quicker! I am so afraid it will never be! +And, worst of all, I am growing old--that's the thing! There won't +then be in me what there is now. But perhaps he'll come today, will +come immediately. Perhaps he has come and is sitting in the drawing +room. Perhaps he came yesterday and I have forgotten it." She rose, +put down the guitar, and went to the drawing room. + +All the domestic circle, tutors, governesses, and guests, were +already at the tea table. The servants stood round the table--but +Prince Andrew was not there and life was going on as before. + +"Ah, here she is!" said the old count, when he saw Natasha enter. +"Well, sit down by me." But Natasha stayed by her mother and glanced +round as if looking for something. + +"Mamma!" she muttered, "give him to me, give him, Mamma, quickly, +quickly!" and she again had difficulty in repressing her sobs. + +She sat down at the table and listened to the conversation between +the elders and Nicholas, who had also come to the table. "My God, my +God! The same faces, the same talk, Papa holding his cup and blowing +in the same way!" thought Natasha, feeling with horror a sense of +repulsion rising up in her for the whole household, because they +were always the same. + +After tea, Nicholas, Sonya, and Natasha went to the sitting room, to +their favorite corner where their most intimate talks always began. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +"Does it ever happen to you," said Natasha to her brother, when +they settled down in the sitting room, "does it ever happen to you +to feel as if there were nothing more to come--nothing; that +everything good is past? And to feel not exactly dull, but sad?" + +"I should think so!" he replied. "I have felt like that when +everything was all right and everyone was cheerful. The thought has +come into my mind that I was already tired of it all, and that we must +all die. Once in the regiment I had not gone to some merrymaking where +there was music... and suddenly I felt so depressed..." + +"Oh yes, I know, I know, I know!" Natasha interrupted him. "When I +was quite little that used to be so with me. Do you remember when I +was punished once about some plums? You were all dancing, and I sat +sobbing in the schoolroom? I shall never forget it: I felt sad and +sorry for everyone, for myself, and for everyone. And I was +innocent--that was the chief thing," said Natasha. "Do you remember?" + +"I remember," answered Nicholas. "I remember that I came to you +afterwards and wanted to comfort you, but do you know, I felt +ashamed to. We were terribly absurd. I had a funny doll then and +wanted to give it to you. Do you remember?" + +"And do you remember," Natasha asked with a pensive smile, "how +once, long, long ago, when we were quite little, Uncle called us +into the study--that was in the old house--and it was dark--we went in +and suddenly there stood..." + +"A Negro," chimed in Nicholas with a smile of delight. "Of course +I remember. Even now I don't know whether there really was a Negro, or +if we only dreamed it or were told about him." + +"He was gray, you remember, and had white teeth, and stood and +looked at us..." + +"Sonya, do you remember?" asked Nicholas. + +"Yes, yes, I do remember something too," Sonya answered timidly. + +"You know I have asked Papa and Mamma about that Negro," said +Natasha, "and they say there was no Negro at all. But you see, you +remember!" + +"Of course I do, I remember his teeth as if I had just seen them." + +"How strange it is! It's as if it were a dream! I like that." + +"And do you remember how we rolled hard-boiled eggs in the ballroom, +and suddenly two old women began spinning round on the carpet? Was +that real or not? Do you remember what fun it was?" + +"Yes, and you remember how Papa in his blue overcoat fired a gun +in the porch?" + +So they went through their memories, smiling with pleasure: not +the sad memories of old age, but poetic, youthful ones--those +impressions of one's most distant past in which dreams and realities +blend--and they laughed with quiet enjoyment. + +Sonya, as always, did not quite keep pace with them, though they +shared the same reminiscences. + +Much that they remembered had slipped from her mind, and what she +recalled did not arouse the same poetic feeling as they experienced. +She simply enjoyed their pleasure and tried to fit in with it. + +She only really took part when they recalled Sonya's first +arrival. She told them how afraid she had been of Nicholas because +he had on a corded jacket and her nurse had told her that she, too, +would be sewn up with cords. + +"And I remember their telling me that you had been born under a +cabbage," said Natasha, "and I remember that I dared not disbelieve +it then, but knew that it was not true, and I felt so uncomfortable." + +While they were talking a maid thrust her head in at the other +door of the sitting room. + +"They have brought the cock, Miss," she said in a whisper. + +"It isn't wanted, Petya. Tell them to take it away," replied +Natasha. + +In the middle of their talk in the sitting room, Dimmler came in and +went up to the harp that stood there in a corner. He took off its +cloth covering, and the harp gave out a jarring sound. + +"Mr. Dimmler, please play my favorite nocturne by Field," came the +old countess' voice from the drawing room. + +Dimmler struck a chord and, turning to Natasha, Nicholas, and Sonya, +remarked: "How quiet you young people are!" + +"Yes, we're philosophizing," said Natasha, glancing round for a +moment and then continuing the conversation. They were now +discussing dreams. + +Dimmler began to play; Natasha went on tiptoe noiselessly to the +table, took up a candle, carried it out, and returned, seating herself +quietly in her former place. It was dark in the room especially +where they were sitting on the sofa, but through the big windows the +silvery light of the full moon fell on the floor. Dimmler had finished +the piece but still sat softly running his fingers over the strings, +evidently uncertain whether to stop or to play something else. + +"Do you know," said Natasha in a whisper, moving closer to +Nicholas and Sonya, "that when one goes on and on recalling +memories, one at last begins to remember what happened before one +was in the world..." + +"That is metempsychosis," said Sonya, who had always learned well, +and remembered everything. "The Egyptians believed that our souls have +lived in animals, and will go back into animals again." + +"No, I don't believe we ever were in animals," said Natasha, still +in a whisper though the music had ceased. "But I am certain that we +were angels somewhere there, and have been here, and that is why we +remember...." + +"May I join you?" said Dimmler who had come up quietly, and he sat +down by them. + +"If we have been angels, why have we fallen lower?" said Nicholas. +"No, that can't be!" + +"Not lower, who said we were lower?... How do I know what I was +before?" Natasha rejoined with conviction. "The soul is immortal--well +then, if I shall always live I must have lived before, lived for a +whole eternity." + +"Yes, but it is hard for us to imagine eternity," remarked +Dimmler, who had joined the young folk with a mildly condescending +smile but now spoke as quietly and seriously as they. + +"Why is it hard to imagine eternity?" said Natasha. "It is now +today, and it will be tomorrow, and always; and there was yesterday, +and the day before..." + +"Natasha! Now it's your turn. Sing me something," they heard the +countess say. "Why are you sitting there like conspirators?" + +"Mamma, I don't at all want to," replied Natasha, but all the same +she rose. + +None of them, not even the middle-aged Dimmler, wanted to break +off their conversation and quit that corner in the sitting room, but +Natasha got up and Nicholas sat down at the clavichord. Standing as +usual in the middle of the hall and choosing the place where the +resonance was best, Natasha began to sing her mother's favorite song. + +She had said she did not want to sing, but it was long since she had +sung, and long before she again sang, as she did that evening. The +count, from his study where he was talking to Mitenka, heard her +and, like a schoolboy in a hurry to run out to play, blundered in +his talk while giving orders to the steward, and at last stopped, +while Mitenka stood in front of him also listening and smiling. +Nicholas did not take his eyes off his sister and drew breath in +time with her. Sonya, as she listened, thought of the immense +difference there was between herself and her friend, and how +impossible it was for her to be anything like as bewitching as her +cousin. The old countess sat with a blissful yet sad smile and with +tears in her eyes, occasionally shaking her head. She thought of +Natasha and of her own youth, and of how there was something unnatural +and dreadful in this impending marriage of Natasha and Prince Andrew. + +Dimmler, who had seated himself beside the countess, listened with +closed eyes. + +"Ah, Countess," he said at last, "that's a European talent, she +has nothing to learn--what softness, tenderness, and strength...." + +"Ah, how afraid I am for her, how afraid I am!" said the countess, +not realizing to whom she was speaking. Her maternal instinct told her +that Natasha had too much of something, and that because of this she +would not be happy. Before Natasha had finished singing, +fourteen-year-old Petya rushed in delightedly, to say that some +mummers had arrived. + +Natasha stopped abruptly. + +"Idiot!" she screamed at her brother and, running to a chair, +threw herself on it, sobbing so violently that she could not stop +for a long time. + +"It's nothing, Mamma, really it's nothing; only Petya startled +me," she said, trying to smile, but her tears still flowed and sobs +still choked her. + +The mummers (some of the house serfs) dressed up as bears, Turks, +innkeepers, and ladies--frightening and funny--bringing in with them +the cold from outside and a feeling of gaiety, crowded, at first +timidly, into the anteroom, then hiding behind one another they pushed +into the ballroom where, shyly at first and then more and more merrily +and heartily, they started singing, dancing, and playing Christmas +games. The countess, when she had identified them and laughed at their +costumes, went into the drawing room. The count sat in the ballroom, +smiling radiantly and applauding the players. The young people had +disappeared. + +Half an hour later there appeared among the other mummers in the +ballroom an old lady in a hooped skirt--this was Nicholas. A Turkish +girl was Petya. A clown was Dimmler. An hussar was Natasha, and a +Circassian was Sonya with burnt-cork mustache and eyebrows. + +After the condescending surprise, nonrecognition, and praise, from +those who were not themselves dressed up, the young people decided +that their costumes were so good that they ought to be shown +elsewhere. + +Nicholas, who, as the roads were in splendid condition, wanted to +take them all for a drive in his troyka, proposed to take with them +about a dozen of the serf mummers and drive to "Uncle's." + +"No, why disturb the old fellow?" said the countess. "Besides, you +wouldn't have room to turn round there. If you must go, go to the +Melyukovs'." + +Melyukova was a widow, who, with her family and their tutors and +governesses, lived three miles from the Rostovs. + +"That's right, my dear," chimed in the old count, thoroughly +aroused. "I'll dress up at once and go with them. I'll make Pashette +open her eyes." + +But the countess would not agree to his going; he had had a bad +leg all these last days. It was decided that the count must not go, +but that if Louisa Ivanovna (Madame Schoss) would go with them, the +young ladies might go to the Melyukovs', Sonya, generally so timid and +shy, more urgently than anyone begging Louisa Ivanovna not to refuse. + +Sonya's costume was the best of all. Her mustache and eyebrows +were extraordinarily becoming. Everyone told her she looked very +handsome, and she was in a spirited and energetic mood unusual with +her. Some inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be +decided, and in her male attire she seemed quite a different person. +Louisa Ivanovna consented to go, and in half an hour four troyka +sleighs with large and small bells, their runners squeaking and +whistling over the frozen snow, drove up to the porch. + +Natasha was foremost in setting a merry holiday tone, which, passing +from one to another, grew stronger and reached its climax +when they all came out into the frost and got into the sleighs, +talking, calling to one another, laughing, and shouting. + +Two of the troykas were the usual household sleighs, the third was +the old count's with a trotter from the Orlov stud as shaft horse, the +fourth was Nicholas' own with a short shaggy black shaft horse. +Nicholas, in his old lady's dress over which he had belted his +hussar overcoat, stood in the middle of the sleigh, reins in hand. + +It was so light that he could see the moonlight reflected from the +metal harness disks and from the eyes of the horses, who looked +round in alarm at the noisy party under the shadow of the porch roof. + +Natasha, Sonya, Madame Schoss, and two maids got into Nicholas' +sleigh; Dimmler, his wife, and Petya, into the old count's, and the +rest of the mummers seated themselves in the other two sleighs. + +"You go ahead, Zakhar!" shouted Nicholas to his father's coachman, +wishing for a chance to race past him. + +The old count's troyka, with Dimmler and his party, started forward, +squeaking on its runners as though freezing to the snow, its +deep-toned bell clanging. The side horses, pressing against the shafts +of the middle horse, sank in the snow, which was dry and glittered +like sugar, and threw it up. + +Nicholas set off, following the first sleigh; behind him the +others moved noisily, their runners squeaking. At first they drove +at a steady trot along the narrow road. While they drove past the +garden the shadows of the bare trees often fell across the road and +hid the brilliant moonlight, but as soon as they were past the +fence, the snowy plain bathed in moonlight and motionless spread out +before them glittering like diamonds and dappled with bluish +shadows. Bang, bang! went the first sleigh over a cradle hole in the +snow of the road, and each of the other sleighs jolted in the same +way, and rudely breaking the frost-bound stillness, the troykas +began to speed along the road, one after the other. + +"A hare's track, a lot of tracks!" rang out Natasha's voice +through the frost-bound air. + +"How light it is, Nicholas!" came Sonya's voice. + +Nicholas glanced round at Sonya, and bent down to see her face closer. +Quite a new, sweet face with black eyebrows and mustaches peeped up at +him from her sable furs--so close and yet so distant--in the +moonlight. + +"That used to be Sonya," thought he, and looked at her closer and +smiled. + +"What is it, Nicholas?" + +"Nothing," said he and turned again to the horses. + +When they came out onto the beaten highroad--polished by sleigh +runners and cut up by rough-shod hoofs, the marks of which were +visible in the moonlight--the horses began to tug at the reins of +their own accord and increased their pace. The near side horse, +arching his head and breaking into a short canter, tugged at his +traces. The shaft horse swayed from side to side, moving his ears as +if asking: "Isn't it time to begin now?" In front, already far ahead +the deep bell of the sleigh ringing farther and farther off, the black +horses driven by Zakhar could be clearly seen against the white +snow. From that sleigh one could hear the shouts, laughter, and voices +of the mummers. + +"Gee up, my darlings!" shouted Nicholas, pulling the reins to one +side and flourishing the whip. + +It was only by the keener wind that met them and the jerks given by +the side horses who pulled harder--ever increasing their gallop--that +one noticed how fast the troyka was flying. Nicholas looked back. With +screams squeals, and waving of whips that caused even the shaft horses +to gallop--the other sleighs followed. The shaft horse swung steadily +beneath the bow over its head, with no thought of slackening pace and +ready to put on speed when required. + +Nicholas overtook the first sleigh. They were driving downhill and +coming out upon a broad trodden track across a meadow, near a river. + +"Where are we?" thought he. "It's the Kosoy meadow, I suppose. But +no--this is something new I've never seen before. This isn't the Kosoy +meadow nor the Demkin hill, and heaven only knows what it is! It is +something new and enchanted. Well, whatever it may be..." And shouting +to his horses, he began to pass the first sleigh. + +Zakhar held back his horses and turned his face, which was already +covered with hoarfrost to his eyebrows. + +Nicholas gave the horses the rein, and Zakhar, stretching out his +arms, clucked his tongue and let his horses go. + +"Now, look out, master!" he cried. + +Faster still the two troykas flew side by side, and faster moved the +feet of the galloping side horses. Nicholas began to draw ahead. +Zakhar, while still keeping his arms extended, raised one hand with +the reins. + +"No you won't, master!" he shouted. + +Nicholas put all his horses to a gallop and passed Zakhar. The horses +showered the fine dry snow on the faces of those in the sleigh--beside +them sounded quick ringing bells and they caught confused glimpses of +swiftly moving legs and the shadows of the troyka they were passing. +The whistling sound of the runners on the snow and the voices of girls +shrieking were heard from different sides. + +Again checking his horses, Nicholas looked around him. They were +still surrounded by the magic plain bathed in moonlight and spangled +with stars. + +"Zakhar is shouting that I should turn to the left, but why to the +left?" thought Nicholas. "Are we getting to the Melyukovs'? Is this +Melyukovka? Heaven only knows where we are going, and heaven knows +what is happening to us--but it is very strange and pleasant +whatever it is." And he looked round in the sleigh. + +"Look, his mustache and eyelashes are all white!" said one of the +strange, pretty, unfamiliar people--the one with fine eyebrows and +mustache. + +"I think this used to be Natasha," thought Nicholas, "and that was +Madame Schoss, but perhaps it's not, and this Circassian with the +mustache I don't know, but I love her." + +"Aren't you cold?" he asked. + +They did not answer but began to laugh. Dimmler from the sleigh +behind shouted something--probably something funny--but they could not +make out what he said. + +"Yes, yes!" some voices answered, laughing. + +"But here was a fairy forest with black moving shadows, and a +glitter of diamonds and a flight of marble steps and the silver +roofs of fairy buildings and the shrill yells of some animals. And +if this is really Melyukovka, it is still stranger that we drove +heaven knows where and have come to Melyukovka," thought Nicholas. + +It really was Melyukovka, and maids and footmen with merry faces +came running, out to the porch carrying candles. + +"Who is it?" asked someone in the porch. + +"The mummers from the count's. I know by the horses," replied some +voices. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Pelageya Danilovna Melyukova, a broadly built, energetic woman +wearing spectacles, sat in the drawing room in a loose dress, +surrounded by her daughters whom she was trying to keep from feeling +dull. They were quietly dropping melted wax into snow and looking at +the shadows the wax figures would throw on the wall, when they heard +the steps and voices of new arrivals in the vestibule. + +Hussars, ladies, witches, clowns, and bears, after clearing their +throats and wiping the hoarfrost from their faces in the vestibule, +came into the ballroom where candles were hurriedly lighted. The +clown--Dimmler--and the lady--Nicholas--started a dance. Surrounded by +the screaming children the mummers, covering their faces and +disguising their voices, bowed to their hostess and arranged +themselves about the room. + +"Dear me! there's no recognizing them! And Natasha! See whom she +looks like! She really reminds me of somebody. But Herr Dimmler--isn't +he good! I didn't know him! And how he dances. Dear me, there's a +Circassian. Really, how becoming it is to dear Sonya. And who is that? +Well, you have cheered us up! Nikita and Vanya--clear away the tables! +And we were sitting so quietly. Ha, ha, ha!... The hussar, the hussar! +Just like a boy! And the legs!... I can't look at him..." different +voices were saying. + +Natasha, the young Melyukovs' favorite, disappeared with them into +the back rooms where a cork and various dressing gowns and male +garments were called for and received from the footman by bare girlish +arms from behind the door. Ten minutes later, all the young +Melyukovs joined the mummers. + +Pelageya Danilovna, having given orders to clear the rooms for the +visitors and arranged about refreshments for the gentry and the serfs, +went about among the mummers without removing her spectacles, +peering into their faces with a suppressed smile and failing to +recognize any of them. It was not merely Dimmler and the Rostovs she +failed to recognize, she did not even recognize her own daughters, +or her late husband's, dressing gowns and uniforms, which they had put +on. + +"And who is this?" she asked her governess, peering into the face +of her own daughter dressed up as a Kazan-Tartar. "I suppose it is one +of the Rostovs! Well, Mr. Hussar, and what regiment do you serve +in?" she asked Natasha. "Here, hand some fruit jelly to the Turk!" she +ordered the butler who was handing things round. "That's not forbidden +by his law." + +Sometimes, as she looked at the strange but amusing capers cut by +the dancers, who--having decided once for all that being disguised, no +one would recognize them--were not at all shy, Pelageya Danilovna +hid her face in her handkerchief, and her whole stout body shook +with irrepressible, kindly, elderly laughter. + +"My little Sasha! Look at Sasha!" she said. + +After Russian country dances and chorus dances, Pelageya Danilovna +made the serfs and gentry join in one large circle: a ring, a +string, and a silver ruble were fetched and they all played games +together. + +In an hour, all the costumes were crumpled and disordered. The +corked eyebrows and mustaches were smeared over the perspiring, +flushed, and merry faces. Pelageya Danilovna began to recognize the +mummers, admired their cleverly contrived costumes, and particularly +how they suited the young ladies, and she thanked them all for +having entertained her so well. The visitors were invited to supper in +the drawing room, and the serfs had something served to them in the +ballroom. + +"Now to tell one's fortune in the empty bathhouse is frightening!" +said an old maid who lived with the Melyukovs, during supper. + +"Why?" said the eldest Melyukov girl. + +"You wouldn't go, it takes courage..." + +"I'll go," said Sonya. + +"Tell what happened to the young lady!" said the second Melyukov +girl. + +"Well," began the old maid, "a young lady once went out, took a +cock, laid the table for two, all properly, and sat down. After +sitting a while, she suddenly hears someone coming... a sleigh +drives up with harness bells; she hears him coming! He comes in, +just in the shape of a man, like an officer--comes in and sits down to +table with her." + +"Ah! ah!" screamed Natasha, rolling her eyes with horror. + +"Yes? And how... did he speak?" + +"Yes, like a man. Everything quite all right, and he began +persuading her; and she should have kept him talking till cockcrow, +but she got frightened, just got frightened and hid her face in her +hands. Then he caught her up. It was lucky the maids ran in just +then..." + +"Now, why frighten them?" said Pelageya Danilovna. + +"Mamma, you used to try your fate yourself..." said her daughter. + +"And how does one do it in a barn?" inquired Sonya. + +"Well, say you went to the barn now, and listened. It depends on +what you hear; hammering and knocking--that's bad; but a sound of +shifting grain is good and one sometimes hears that, too." + +"Mamma, tell us what happened to you in the barn." + +Pelageya Danilovna smiled. + +"Oh, I've forgotten..." she replied. "But none of you would go?" + +"Yes, I will; Pelageya Danilovna, let me! I'll go," said Sonya. + +"Well, why not, if you're not afraid?" + +"Louisa Ivanovna, may I?" asked Sonya. + +Whether they were playing the ring and string game or the ruble game +or talking as now, Nicholas did not leave Sonya's side, and gazed at +her with quite new eyes. It seemed to him that it was only today, +thanks to that burnt-cork mustache, that he had fully learned to +know her. And really, that evening, Sonya was brighter, more animated, +and prettier than Nicholas had ever seen her before. + +"So that's what she is like; what a fool I have been!" he thought +gazing at her sparkling eyes, and under the mustache a happy rapturous +smile dimpled her cheeks, a smile he had never seen before. + +"I'm not afraid of anything," said Sonya. "May I go at once?" She +got up. + +They told her where the barn was and how she should stand and +listen, and they handed her a fur cloak. She threw this over her +head and shoulders and glanced at Nicholas. + +"What a darling that girl is!" thought he. "And what have I been +thinking of till now?" + +Sonya went out into the passage to go to the barn. Nicholas went +hastily to the front porch, saying he felt too hot. The crowd of +people really had made the house stuffy. + +Outside, there was the same cold stillness and the same moon, but +even brighter than before. The light was so strong and the snow +sparkled with so many stars that one did not wish to look up at the +sky and the real stars were unnoticed. The sky was black and dreary, +while the earth was gay. + +"I am a fool, a fool! what have I been waiting for?" thought +Nicholas, and running out from the porch he went round the corner of +the house and along the path that led to the back porch. He knew Sonya +would pass that way. Halfway lay some snow-covered piles of firewood +and across and along them a network of shadows from the bare old +lime trees fell on the snow and on the path. This path led to the +barn. The log walls of the barn and its snow-covered roof, that looked +as if hewn out of some precious stone, sparkled in the moonlight. A +tree in the garden snapped with the frost, and then all was again +perfectly silent. His bosom seemed to inhale not air but the +strength of eternal youth and gladness. + +From the back porch came the sound of feet descending the steps, the +bottom step upon which snow had fallen gave a ringing creak and he +heard the voice of an old maidservant saying, "Straight, straight, +along the path, Miss. Only, don't look back." + +"I am not afraid," answered Sonya's voice, and along the path toward +Nicholas came the crunching, whistling sound of Sonya's feet in her +thin shoes. + +Sonya came along, wrapped in her cloak. She was only a couple of +paces away when she saw him, and to her too he was not the Nicholas +she had known and always slightly feared. He was in a woman's dress, +with tousled hair and a happy smile new to Sonya. She ran rapidly +toward him. + +"Quite different and yet the same," thought Nicholas, looking at her +face all lit up by the moonlight. He slipped his arms under the +cloak that covered her head, embraced her, pressed her to him, and +kissed her on the lips that wore a mustache and had a smell of burnt +cork. Sonya kissed him full on the lips, and disengaging her little +hands pressed them to his cheeks. + +"Sonya!... Nicholas!"... was all they said. They ran to the barn and +then back again, re-entering, he by the front and she by the back +porch. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +When they all drove back from Pelageya Danilovna's, Natasha, who +always saw and noticed everything, arranged that she and Madame Schoss +should go back in the sleigh with Dimmler, and Sonya with Nicholas and +the maids. + +On the way back Nicholas drove at a steady pace instead of racing +and kept peering by that fantastic all-transforming light into Sonya's +face and searching beneath the eyebrows and mustache for his former +and his present Sonya from whom he had resolved never to be parted +again. He looked and recognizing in her both the old and the new +Sonya, and being reminded by the smell of burnt cork of the +sensation of her kiss, inhaled the frosty air with a full breast +and, looking at the ground flying beneath him and at the sparkling +sky, felt himself again in fairyland. + +"Sonya, is it well with thee?" he asked from time to time. + +"Yes!" she replied. "And with thee?" + +When halfway home Nicholas handed the reins to the coachman and +ran for a moment to Natasha's sleigh and stood on its wing. + +"Natasha!" he whispered in French, "do you know I have made up my +mind about Sonya?" + +"Have you told her?" asked Natasha, suddenly beaming all over with +joy. + +"Oh, how strange you are with that mustache and those eyebrows!... +Natasha--are you glad?" + +"I am so glad, so glad! I was beginning to be vexed with you. I +did not tell you, but you have been treating her badly. What a heart +she has, Nicholas! I am horrid sometimes, but I was ashamed to be +happy while Sonya was not," continued Natasha. "Now I am so glad! +Well, run back to her." + +"No, wait a bit.... Oh, how funny you look!" cried Nicholas, peering +into her face and finding in his sister too something new, unusual, +and bewitchingly tender that he had not seen in her before. +"Natasha, it's magical, isn't it?" + +"Yes," she replied. "You have done splendidly." + +"Had I seen her before as she is now," thought Nicholas, "I should +long ago have asked her what to do and have done whatever she told me, +and all would have been well." + +"So you are glad and I have done right?" + +"Oh, quite right! I had a quarrel with Mamma some time ago about it. +Mamma said she was angling for you. How could she say such a thing! +I nearly stormed at Mamma. I will never let anyone say anything bad of +Sonya, for there is nothing but good in her." + +"Then it's all right?" said Nicholas, again scrutinizing the +expression of his sister's face to see if she was in earnest. Then +he jumped down and, his boots scrunching the snow, ran back to his +sleigh. The same happy, smiling Circassian, with mustache and +beaming eyes looking up from under a sable hood, was still sitting +there, and that Circassian was Sonya, and that Sonya was certainly his +future happy and loving wife. + +When they reached home and had told their mother how they had +spent the evening at the Melyukovs', the girls went to their +bedroom. When they had undressed, but without washing off the cork +mustaches, they sat a long time talking of their happiness. They +talked of how they would live when they were married, how their +husbands would be friends, and how happy they would be. On Natasha's +table stood two looking glasses which Dunyasha had prepared +beforehand. + +"Only when will all that be? I am afraid never.... It would be too +good!" said Natasha, rising and going to the looking glasses. + +"Sit down, Natasha; perhaps you'll see him," said Sonya. + +Natasha lit the candles, one on each side of one of the looking +glasses, and sat down. + +"I see someone with a mustache," said Natasha, seeing her own face. + +"You mustn't laugh, Miss," said Dunyasha. + +With Sonya's help and the maid's, Natasha got the glass she held +into the right position opposite the other; her face assumed a serious +expression and she sat silent. She sat a long time looking at the +receding line of candles reflected in the glasses and expecting +(from tales she had heard) to see a coffin, or him, Prince Andrew, +in that last dim, indistinctly outlined square. But ready as she was +to take the smallest speck for the image of a man or of a coffin, +she saw nothing. She began blinking rapidly and moved away from the +looking glasses. + +"Why is it others see things and I don't?" she said. "You sit down +now, Sonya. You absolutely must, tonight! Do it for me.... Today I +feel so frightened!" + +Sonya sat down before the glasses, got the right position, and began +looking. + +"Now, Miss Sonya is sure to see something," whispered Dunyasha; +"while you do nothing but laugh." + +Sonya heard this and Natasha's whisper: + +"I know she will. She saw something last year." + +For about three minutes all were silent. + +"Of course she will!" whispered Natasha, but did not finish... +suddenly Sonya pushed away the glass she was holding and covered her +eyes with her hand. + +"Oh, Natasha!" she cried. + +"Did you see? Did you? What was it?" exclaimed Natasha, holding up +the looking glass. + +Sonya had not seen anything, she was just wanting to blink and to +get up when she heard Natasha say, "Of course she will!" She did not +wish to disappoint either Dunyasha or Natasha, but it was hard to +sit still. She did not herself know how or why the exclamation escaped +her when she covered her eyes. + +"You saw him?" urged Natasha, seizing her hand. + +"Yes. Wait a bit... I... saw him," Sonya could not help saying, +not yet knowing whom Natasha meant by him, Nicholas or Prince Andrew. + +"But why shouldn't I say I saw something? Others do see! Besides who +can tell whether I saw anything or not?" flashed through Sonya's mind. + +"Yes, I saw him," she said. + +"How? Standing or lying?" + +"No, I saw... At first there was nothing, then I saw him lying +down." + +"Andrew lying? Is he ill?" asked Natasha, her frightened eyes +fixed on her friend. + +"No, on the contrary, on the contrary! His face was cheerful, and he +turned to me." And when saying this she herself fancied she had really +seen what she described. + +"Well, and then, Sonya?..." + +"After that, I could not make out what there was; something blue and +red..." + +"Sonya! When will he come back? When shall I see him! O, God, how +afraid I am for him and for myself and about everything!..." Natasha +began, and without replying to Sonya's words of comfort she got into +bed, and long after her candle was out lay open-eyed and motionless, +gazing at the moonlight through the frosty windowpanes. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Soon after the Christmas holidays Nicholas told his mother of his +love for Sonya and of his firm resolve to marry her. The countess, who +had long noticed what was going on between them and was expecting this +declaration, listened to him in silence and then told her son that +he might marry whom he pleased, but that neither she nor his father +would give their blessing to such a marriage. Nicholas, for the +first time, felt that his mother was displeased with him and that, +despite her love for him, she would not give way. Coldly, without +looking at her son, she sent for her husband and, when he came, +tried briefly and coldly to inform him of the facts, in her son's +presence, but unable to restrain herself she burst into tears of +vexation and left the room. The old count began irresolutely to +admonish Nicholas and beg him to abandon his purpose. Nicholas replied +that he could not go back on his word, and his father, sighing and +evidently disconcerted, very soon became silent and went in to the +countess. In all his encounters with his son, the count was always +conscious of his own guilt toward him for having wasted the family +fortune, and so he could not be angry with him for refusing to marry +an heiress and choosing the dowerless Sonya. On this occasion, he +was only more vividly conscious of the fact that if his affairs had +not been in disorder, no better wife for Nicholas than Sonya could +have been wished for, and that no one but himself with his Mitenka and +his uncomfortable habits was to blame for the condition of the +family finances. + +The father and mother did not speak of the matter to their son +again, but a few days later the countess sent for Sonya and, with a +cruelty neither of them expected, reproached her niece for trying to +catch Nicholas and for ingratitude. Sonya listened silently with +downcast eyes to the countess' cruel words, without understanding what +was required of her. She was ready to sacrifice everything for her +benefactors. Self-sacrifice was her most cherished idea but in this +case she could not see what she ought to sacrifice, or for whom. She +could not help loving the countess and the whole Rostov family, but +neither could she help loving Nicholas and knowing that his +happiness depended on that love. She was silent and sad and did not +reply. Nicholas felt the situation to be intolerable and went to +have an explanation with his mother. He first implored her to +forgive him and Sonya and consent to their marriage, then he +threatened that if she molested Sonya he would at once marry her +secretly. + +The countess, with a coldness her son had never seen in her +before, replied that he was of age, that Prince Andrew was marrying +without his father's consent, and he could do the same, but that she +would never receive that intriguer as her daughter. + +Exploding at the word intriguer, Nicholas, raising his voice, told +his mother he had never expected her to try to force him to sell his +feelings, but if that were so, he would say for the last time.... +But he had no time to utter the decisive word which the expression +of his face caused his mother to await with terror, and which would +perhaps have forever remained a cruel memory to them both. He had +not time to say it, for Natasha, with a pale and set face, entered the +room from the door at which she had been listening. + +"Nicholas, you are talking nonsense! Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, I +tell you!..." she almost screamed, so as to drown his voice. + +"Mamma darling, it's not at all so... my poor, sweet darling," she +said to her mother, who conscious that they had been on the brink of a +rupture gazed at her son with terror, but in the obstinacy and +excitement of the conflict could not and would not give way. + +"Nicholas, I'll explain to you. Go away! Listen, Mamma darling," +said Natasha. + +Her words were incoherent, but they attained the purpose at which +she was aiming. + +The countess, sobbing heavily, hid her face on her daughter's +breast, while Nicholas rose, clutching his head, and left the room. + +Natasha set to work to effect a reconciliation, and so far succeeded +that Nicholas received a promise from his mother that Sonya should not +be troubled, while he on his side promised not to undertake anything +without his parents' knowledge. + +Firmly resolved, after putting his affairs in order in the regiment, +to retire from the army and return and marry Sonya, Nicholas, serious, +sorrowful, and at variance with his parents, but, as it seemed to him, +passionately in love, left at the beginning of January to rejoin his +regiment. + +After Nicholas had gone things in the Rostov household were more +depressing than ever, and the countess fell ill from mental agitation. + +Sonya was unhappy at the separation from Nicholas and still more +so on account of the hostile tone the countess could not help adopting +toward her. The count was more perturbed than ever by the condition of +his affairs, which called for some decisive action. Their town house +and estate near Moscow had inevitably to be sold, and for this they +had to go to Moscow. But the countess' health obliged them to delay +their departure from day to day. + +Natasha, who had borne the first period of separation from her +betrothed lightly and even cheerfully, now grew more agitated and +impatient every day. The thought that her best days, which she would +have employed in loving him, were being vainly wasted, with no +advantage to anyone, tormented her incessantly. His letters for the +most part irritated her. It hurt her to think that while she lived +only in the thought of him, he was living a real life, seeing new +places and new people that interested him. The more interesting his +letters were the more vexed she felt. Her letters to him, far from +giving her any comfort, seemed to her a wearisome and artificial +obligation. She could not write, because she could not conceive the +possibility of expressing sincerely in a letter even a thousandth part +of what she expressed by voice, smile, and glance. She wrote to him +formal, monotonous, and dry letters, to which she attached no +importance herself, and in the rough copies of which the countess +corrected her mistakes in spelling. + +There was still no improvement in the countess' health, but it was +impossible to defer the journey to Moscow any longer. Natasha's +trousseau had to be ordered and the house sold. Moreover, Prince +Andrew was expected in Moscow, where old Prince Bolkonski was spending +the winter, and Natasha felt sure he had already arrived. + +So the countess remained in the country, and the count, taking Sonya +and Natasha with him, went to Moscow at the end of January. + + + + + +BOOK EIGHT: 1811 --12 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +After Prince Andrews engagement to Natasha, Pierre without any +apparent cause suddenly felt it impossible to go on living as before. +Firmly convinced as he was of the truths revealed to him by his +benefactor, and happy as he had been in perfecting his inner man, to +which he had devoted himself with such ardor--all the zest of such a +life vanished after the engagement of Andrew and Natasha and the death +of Joseph Alexeevich, the news of which reached him almost at the same +time. Only the skeleton of life remained: his house, a brilliant wife +who now enjoyed the favors of a very important personage, acquaintance +with all Petersburg, and his court service with its dull formalities. +And this life suddenly seemed to Pierre unexpectedly loathsome. He +ceased keeping a diary, avoided the company of the Brothers, began +going to the Club again, drank a great deal, and came once more in +touch with the bachelor sets, leading such a life that the Countess +Helene thought it necessary to speak severely to him about it. Pierre +felt that she was right, and to avoid compromising her went away to +Moscow. + +In Moscow as soon as he entered his huge house in which the faded +and fading princesses still lived, with its enormous retinue; as +soon as, driving through the town, he saw the Iberian shrine with +innumerable tapers burning before the golden covers of the icons, +the Kremlin Square with its snow undisturbed by vehicles, the sleigh +drivers and hovels of the Sivtsev Vrazhok, those old Moscovites who +desired nothing, hurried nowhere, and were ending their days +leisurely; when he saw those old Moscow ladies, the Moscow balls, +and the English Club, he felt himself at home in a quiet haven. In +Moscow he felt at peace, at home, warm and dirty as in an old dressing +gown. + +Moscow society, from the old women down to the children, received +Pierre like a long-expected guest whose place was always ready +awaiting him. For Moscow society Pierre was the nicest, kindest, +most intellectual, merriest, and most magnanimous of cranks, a +heedless, genial nobleman of the old Russian type. His purse was +always empty because it was open to everyone. + +Benefit performances, poor pictures, statues, benevolent +societies, gypsy choirs, schools, subscription dinners, sprees, +Freemasons, churches, and books--no one and nothing met with a refusal +from him, and had it not been for two friends who had borrowed large +sums from him and taken him under their protection, he would have +given everything away. There was never a dinner or soiree at the +Club without him. As soon as he sank into his place on the sofa +after two bottles of Margaux he was surrounded, and talking, +disputing, and joking began. When there were quarrels, his kindly +smile and well-timed jests reconciled the antagonists. The Masonic +dinners were dull and dreary when he was not there. + +When after a bachelor supper he rose with his amiable and kindly +smile, yielding to the entreaties of the festive company to drive +off somewhere with them, shouts of delight and triumph arose among the +young men. At balls he danced if a partner was needed. Young ladies, +married and unmarried, liked him because without making love to any of +them, he was equally amiable to all, especially after supper. "Il +est charmant; il n'a pas de sexe,"* they said of him. + + +*"He is charming; he has no sex." + + +Pierre was one of those retired gentlemen-in-waiting of whom there +were hundreds good-humoredly ending their days in Moscow. + +How horrified he would have been seven years before, when he first +arrived from abroad, had he been told that there was no need for him +to seek or plan anything, that his rut had long been shaped, eternally +predetermined, and that wriggle as he might, he would be what all in +his position were. He could not have believed it! Had he not at one +time longed with all his heart to establish a republic in Russia; then +himself to be a Napoleon; then to be a philosopher; and then a +strategist and the conqueror of Napoleon? Had he not seen the +possibility of, and passionately desired, the regeneration of the +sinful human race, and his own progress to the highest degree of +perfection? Had he not established schools and hospitals and liberated +his serfs? + +But instead of all that--here he was, the wealthy husband of an +unfaithful wife, a retired gentleman-in-waiting, fond of eating and +drinking and, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, of abusing the +government a bit, a member of the Moscow English Club, and a universal +favorite in Moscow society. For a long time he could not reconcile +himself to the idea that he was one of those same retired Moscow +gentlemen-in-waiting he had so despised seven years before. + +Sometimes he consoled himself with the thought that he was only +living this life temporarily; but then he was shocked by the thought +of how many, like himself, had entered that life and that Club +temporarily, with all their teeth and hair, and had only left it +when not a single tooth or hair remained. + +In moments of pride, when he thought of his position it seemed to +him that he was quite different and distinct from those other +retired gentlemen-in-waiting he had formerly despised: they were +empty, stupid, contented fellows, satisfied with their position, +"while I am still discontented and want to do something for mankind. +But perhaps all these comrades of mine struggled just like me and +sought something new, a path in life of their own, and like me were +brought by force of circumstances, society, and race--by that +elemental force against which man is powerless--to the condition I +am in," said he to himself in moments of humility; and after living +some time in Moscow he no longer despised, but began to grow fond +of, to respect, and to pity his comrades in destiny, as he pitied +himself. + +Pierre no longer suffered moments of despair, hypochondria, and disgust +with life, but the malady that had formerly found expression in such +acute attacks was driven inwards and never left him for a moment. +"What for? Why? What is going on in the world?" he would ask himself +in perplexity several times a day, involuntarily beginning to +reflect anew on the meaning of the phenomena of life; but knowing by +experience that there were no answers to these questions he made haste +to turn away from them, and took up a book, or hurried of to the +Club or to Apollon Nikolaevich's, to exchange the gossip of the town. + +"Helene, who has never cared for anything but her own body and is one +of the stupidest women in the world," thought Pierre, "is regarded by +people as the acme of intelligence and refinement, and they pay homage +to her. Napoleon Bonaparte was despised by all as long as he was +great, but now that he has become a wretched comedian the Emperor +Francis wants to offer him his daughter in an illegal marriage. The +Spaniards, through the Catholic clergy, offer praise to God for their +victory over the French on the fourteenth of June, and the French, +also through the Catholic clergy, offer praise because on that same +fourteenth of June they defeated the Spaniards. My brother Masons +swear by the blood that they are ready to sacrifice everything for +their neighbor, but they do not give a ruble each to the collections +for the poor, and they intrigue, the Astraea Lodge against the Manna +Seekers, and fuss about an authentic Scotch carpet and a charter that +nobody needs, and the meaning of which the very man who wrote it does +not understand. We all profess the Christian law of forgiveness of +injuries and love of our neighbors, the law in honor of which we have +built in Moscow forty times forty churches--but yesterday a deserter +was knouted to death and a minister of that same law of love and +forgiveness, a priest, gave the soldier a cross to kiss before his +execution." So thought Pierre, and the whole of this general deception +which everyone accepts, accustomed as he was to it, astonished him +each time as if it were something new. "I understand the deception and +confusion," he thought, "but how am I to tell them all that I see? I +have tried, and have always found that they too in the depths of their +souls understand it as I do, and only try not to see it. So it appears +that it must be so! But I--what is to become of me?" thought he. He +had the unfortunate capacity many men, especially Russians, have of +seeing and believing in the possibility of goodness and truth, but of +seeing the evil and falsehood of life too clearly to be able to take a +serious part in it. Every sphere of work was connected, in his eyes, +with evil and deception. Whatever he tried to be, whatever he engaged +in, the evil and falsehood of it repulsed him and blocked every path +of activity. Yet he had to live and to find occupation. It was too +dreadful to be under the burden of these insoluble problems, so he +abandoned himself to any distraction in order to forget them. He +frequented every kind of society, drank much, bought pictures, engaged +in building, and above all--read. + +He read, and read everything that came to hand. On coming home, +while his valets were still taking off his things, he picked up a book +and began to read. From reading he passed to sleeping, from sleeping +to gossip in drawing rooms of the Club, from gossip to carousals and +women; from carousals back to gossip, reading, and wine. Drinking +became more and more a physical and also a moral necessity. Though the +doctors warned him that with his corpulence wine was dangerous for +him, he drank a great deal. He was only quite at ease when having +poured several glasses of wine mechanically into his large mouth he +felt a pleasant warmth in his body, an amiability toward all his +fellows, and a readiness to respond superficially to every idea +without probing it deeply. Only after emptying a bottle or two did +he feel dimly that the terribly tangled skein of life which previously +had terrified him was not as dreadful as he had thought. He was always +conscious of some aspect of that skein, as with a buzzing in his +head after dinner or supper he chatted or listened to conversation +or read. But under the influence of wine he said to himself: "It +doesn't matter. I'll get it unraveled. I have a solution ready, but +have no time now--I'll think it all out later on!" But the later on +never came. + +In the morning, on an empty stomach, all the old questions +appeared as insoluble and terrible as ever, and Pierre hastily +picked up a book, and if anyone came to see him he was glad. + +Sometimes he remembered how he had heard that soldiers in war when +entrenched under the enemy's fire, if they have nothing to do, try +hard to find some occupation the more easily to bear the danger. To +Pierre all men seemed like those soldiers, seeking refuge from life: +some in ambition, some in cards, some in framing laws, some in +women, some in toys, some in horses, some in politics, some in +sport, some in wine, and some in governmental affairs. "Nothing is +trivial, and nothing is important, it's all the same--only to save +oneself from it as best one can," thought Pierre. "Only not to see it, +that dreadful it!" + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +At the beginning of winter Prince Nicholas Bolkonski and his +daughter moved to Moscow. At that time enthusiasm for the Emperor +Alexander's regime had weakened and a patriotic and anti-French +tendency prevailed there, and this, together with his past and his +intellect and his originality, at once made Prince Nicholas +Bolkonski an object of particular respect to the Moscovites and the +center of the Moscow opposition to the government. + +The prince had aged very much that year. He showed marked signs of +senility by a tendency to fall asleep, forgetfulness of quite recent +events, remembrance of remote ones, and the childish vanity with which +he accepted the role of head of the Moscow opposition. In spite of +this the old man inspired in all his visitors alike a feeling of +respectful veneration--especially of an evening when he came in to tea +in his old-fashioned coat and powdered wig and, aroused by anyone, +told his abrupt stories of the past, or uttered yet more abrupt and +scathing criticisms of the present. For them all, that old-fashioned +house with its gigantic mirrors, pre-Revolution furniture, powdered +footmen, and the stern shrewd old man (himself a relic of the past +century) with his gentle daughter and the pretty Frenchwoman who +were reverently devoted to him presented a majestic and agreeable +spectacle. But the visitors did not reflect that besides the couple of +hours during which they saw their host, there were also twenty-two +hours in the day during which the private and intimate life of the +house continued. + +Latterly that private life had become very trying for Princess Mary. +There in Moscow she was deprived of her greatest pleasures--talks with +the pilgrims and the solitude which refreshed her at Bald Hills--and +she had none of the advantages and pleasures of city life. She did not +go out into society; everyone knew that her father would not let her +go anywhere without him, and his failing health prevented his going +out himself, so that she was not invited to dinners and evening +parties. She had quite abandoned the hope of getting married. She +saw the coldness and malevolence with which the old prince received +and dismissed the young men, possible suitors, who sometimes +appeared at their house. She had no friends: during this visit to +Moscow she had been disappointed in the two who had been nearest to +her. Mademoiselle Bourienne, with whom she had never been able to be +quite frank, had now become unpleasant to her, and for various reasons +Princess Mary avoided her. Julie, with whom she had corresponded for +the last five years, was in Moscow, but proved to be quite alien to +her when they met. Just then Julie, who by the death of her brothers +had become one of the richest heiresses in Moscow, was in the full +whirl of society pleasures. She was surrounded by young men who, she +fancied, had suddenly learned to appreciate her worth. Julie was at +that stage in the life of a society woman when she feels that her last +chance of marrying has come and that her fate must be decided now or +never. On Thursdays Princess Mary remembered with a mournful smile +that she now had no one to write to, since Julie--whose presence +gave her no pleasure was here and they met every week. Like the old +emigre who declined to marry the lady with whom he had spent his +evenings for years, she regretted Julie's presence and having no one +to write to. In Moscow Princess Mary had no one to talk to, no one +to whom to confide her sorrow, and much sorrow fell to her lot just +then. The time for Prince Andrew's return and marriage was +approaching, but his request to her to prepare his father for it had +not been carried out; in fact, it seemed as if matters were quite +hopeless, for at every mention of the young Countess Rostova the old +prince (who apart from that was usually in a bad temper) lost +control of himself. Another lately added sorrow arose from the lessons +she gave her six year-old nephew. To her consternation she detected in +herself in relation to little Nicholas some symptoms of her father's +irritability. However often she told herself that she must not get +irritable when teaching her nephew, almost every time that, pointer in +hand, she sat down to show him the French alphabet, she so longed to +pour her own knowledge quickly and easily into the child--who was +already afraid that Auntie might at any moment get angry--that at +his slightest inattention she trembled, became flustered and heated, +raised her voice, and sometimes pulled him by the arm and put him in +the corner. Having put him in the corner she would herself begin to +cry over her cruel, evil nature, and little Nicholas, following her +example, would sob, and without permission would leave his corner, +come to her, pull her wet hands from her face, and comfort her. But +what distressed the princess most of all was her father's +irritability, which was always directed against her and had of late +amounted to cruelty. Had he forced her to prostrate herself to the +ground all night, had he beaten her or made her fetch wood or water, +it would never have entered her mind to think her position hard; but +this loving despot--the more cruel because he loved her and for that +reason tormented himself and her--knew how not merely to hurt and +humiliate her deliberately, but to show her that she was always to +blame for everything. Of late he had exhibited a new trait that +tormented Princess Mary more than anything else; this was his +ever-increasing intimacy with Mademoiselle Bourienne. The idea that at +the first moment of receiving the news of his son's intentions had +occurred to him in jest--that if Andrew got married he himself would +marry Bourienne--had evidently pleased him, and latterly he had +persistently, and as it seemed to Princess Mary merely to offend +her, shown special endearments to the companion and expressed his +dissatisfaction with his daughter by demonstrations of love of +Bourienne. + +One day in Moscow in Princess Mary's presence (she thought her +father did it purposely when she was there) the old prince kissed +Mademoiselle Bourienne's hand and, drawing her to him, embraced her +affectionately. Princess Mary flushed and ran out of the room. A few +minutes later Mademoiselle Bourienne came into Princess Mary's room +smiling and making cheerful remarks in her agreeable voice. Princess +Mary hastily wiped away her tears, went resolutely up to +Mademoiselle Bourienne, and evidently unconscious of what she was +doing began shouting in angry haste at the Frenchwoman, her voice +breaking: "It's horrible, vile, inhuman, to take advantage of the +weakness..." She did not finish. "Leave my room," she exclaimed, and +burst into sobs. + +Next day the prince did not say a word to his daughter, but she +noticed that at dinner he gave orders that Mademoiselle Bourienne +should be served first. After dinner, when the footman handed coffee +and from habit began with the princess, the prince suddenly grew +furious, threw his stick at Philip, and instantly gave instructions to +have him conscripted for the army. + +"He doesn't obey... I said it twice... and he doesn't obey! She is +the first person in this house; she's my best friend," cried the +prince. "And if you allow yourself," he screamed in a fury, addressing +Princess Mary for the first time, "to forget yourself again before her +as you dared to do yesterday, I will show you who is master in this +house. Go! Don't let me set eyes on you; beg her pardon!" + +Princess Mary asked Mademoiselle Bourienne's pardon, and also her +father's pardon for herself and for Philip the footman, who had begged +for her intervention. + +At such moments something like a pride of sacrifice gathered in +her soul. And suddenly that father whom she had judged would look +for his spectacles in her presence, fumbling near them and not +seeing them, or would forget something that had just occurred, or take +a false step with his failing legs and turn to see if anyone had +noticed his feebleness, or, worst of all, at dinner when there were no +visitors to excite him would suddenly fall asleep, letting his +napkin drop and his shaking head sink over his plate. "He is old and +feeble, and I dare to condemn him!" she thought at such moments, +with a feeling of revulsion against herself. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +In 1811 there was living in Moscow a French doctor--Metivier--who +had rapidly become the fashion. He was enormously tall, handsome, +amiable as Frenchmen are, and was, as all Moscow said, an +extraordinarily clever doctor. He was received in the best houses +not merely as a doctor, but as an equal. + +Prince Nicholas had always ridiculed medicine, but latterly on +Mademoiselle Bourienne's advice had allowed this doctor to visit him +and had grown accustomed to him. Metivier came to see the prince about +twice a week. + +On December 6--St. Nicholas' Day and the prince's name day--all +Moscow came to the prince's front door but he gave orders to admit +no one and to invite to dinner only a small number, a list of whom +he gave to Princess Mary. + +Metivier, who came in the morning with his felicitations, considered +it proper in his quality of doctor de forcer la consigne,* as he +told Princess Mary, and went in to see the prince. It happened that on +that morning of his name day the prince was in one of his worst moods. +He had been going about the house all the morning finding fault with +everyone and pretending not to understand what was said to him and not +to be understood himself. Princess Mary well knew this mood of quiet +absorbed querulousness, which generally culminated in a burst of rage, +and she went about all that morning as though facing a cocked and +loaded gun and awaited the inevitable explosion. Until the doctor's +arrival the morning had passed off safely. After admitting the doctor, +Princess Mary sat down with a book in the drawing room near the door +through which she could hear all that passed in the study. + + +*To force the guard. + + +At first she heard only Metivier's voice, then her father's, then +both voices began speaking at the same time, the door was flung +open, and on the threshold appeared the handsome figure of the +terrified Metivier with his shock of black hair, and the prince in his +dressing gown and fez, his face distorted with fury and the pupils +of his eyes rolled downwards. + +"You don't understand?" shouted the prince, "but I do! French spy, +slave of Buonaparte, spy, get out of my house! Be off, I tell you..." + +Metivier, shrugging his shoulders, went up to Mademoiselle Bourienne +who at the sound of shouting had run in from an adjoining room. + +"The prince is not very well: bile and rush of blood to the head. +Keep calm, I will call again tomorrow," said Metivier; and putting his +fingers to his lips he hastened away. + +Through the study door came the sound of slippered feet and the cry: +"Spies, traitors, traitors everywhere! Not a moment's peace in my +own house!" + +After Metivier's departure the old prince called his daughter in, +and the whole weight of his wrath fell on her. She was to blame that a +spy had been admitted. Had he not told her, yes, told her to make a +list, and not to admit anyone who was not on that list? Then why was +that scoundrel admitted? She was the cause of it all. With her, he +said, he could not have a moment's peace and could not die quietly. + +"No, ma'am! We must part, we must part! Understand that, +understand it! I cannot endure any more," he said, and left the +room. Then, as if afraid she might find some means of consolation, +he returned and trying to appear calm added: "And don't imagine I have +said this in a moment of anger. I am calm. I have thought it over, and +it will be carried out--we must part; so find some place for +yourself...." But he could not restrain himself and with the virulence +of which only one who loves is capable, evidently suffering himself, +he shook his fists at her and screamed: + +"If only some fool would marry her!" Then he slammed the door, +sent for Mademoiselle Bourienne, and subsided into his study. + +At two o'clock the six chosen guests assembled for dinner. + +These guests--the famous Count Rostopchin, Prince Lopukhin with +his nephew, General Chatrov an old war comrade of the prince's, and of +the younger generation Pierre and Boris Drubetskoy--awaited the prince +in the drawing room. + +Boris, who had come to Moscow on leave a few days before, had been +anxious to be presented to Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, and had +contrived to ingratiate himself so well that the old prince in his +case made an exception to the rule of not receiving bachelors in his +house. + +The prince's house did not belong to what is known as fashionable +society, but his little circle--though not much talked about in +town--was one it was more flattering to be received in than any other. +Boris had realized this the week before when the commander in chief in +his presence invited Rostopchin to dinner on St. Nicholas' Day, and +Rostopchin had replied that he could not come: + +"On that day I always go to pay my devotions to the relics of Prince +Nicholas Bolkonski." + +"Oh, yes, yes!" replied the commander in chief. "How is he?..." + +The small group that assembled before dinner in the lofty +old-fashioned drawing room with its old furniture resembled the solemn +gathering of a court of justice. All were silent or talked in low +tones. Prince Nicholas came in serious and taciturn. Princess Mary +seemed even quieter and more diffident than usual. The guests were +reluctant to address her, feeling that she was in no mood for their +conversation. Count Rostopchin alone kept the conversation going, +now relating the latest town news, and now the latest political +gossip. + +Lopukhin and the old general occasionally took part in the +conversation. Prince Bolkonski listened as a presiding judge +receives a report, only now and then, silently or by a brief word, +showing that he took heed of what was being reported to him. The +tone of the conversation was such as indicated that no one approved of +what was being done in the political world. Incidents were related +evidently confirming the opinion that everything was going from bad to +worse, but whether telling a story or giving an opinion the speaker +always stopped, or was stopped, at the point beyond which his +criticism might touch the sovereign himself. + +At dinner the talk turned on the latest political news: Napoleon's +seizure of the Duke of Oldenburg's territory, and the Russian Note, +hostile to Napoleon, which had been sent to all the European courts. + +"Bonaparte treats Europe as a pirate does a captured vessel," said +Count Rostopchin, repeating a phrase he had uttered several times +before. "One only wonders at the long-suffering or blindness of the +crowned heads. Now the Pope's turn has come and Bonaparte doesn't +scruple to depose the head of the Catholic Church--yet all keep +silent! Our sovereign alone has protested against the seizure of the +Duke of Oldenburg's territory, and even..." Count Rostopchin paused, +feeling that he had reached the limit beyond which censure was +impossible. + +"Other territories have been offered in exchange for the Duchy of +Oldenburg," said Prince Bolkonski. "He shifts the Dukes about as I +might move my serfs from Bald Hills to Bogucharovo or my Ryazan +estates." + +"The Duke of Oldenburg bears his misfortunes with admirable strength +of character and resignation," remarked Boris, joining in +respectfully. + +He said this because on his journey from Petersburg he had had the +honor of being presented to the Duke. Prince Bolkonski glanced at +the young man as if about to say something in reply, but changed his +mind, evidently considering him too young. + +"I have read our protests about the Oldenburg affair and was +surprised how badly the Note was worded," remarked Count Rostopchin in +the casual tone of a man dealing with a subject quite familiar to him. + +Pierre looked at Rostopchin with naive astonishment, not +understanding why he should be disturbed by the bad composition of the +Note. + +"Does it matter, Count, how the Note is worded," he asked, "so +long as its substance is forcible?" + +"My dear fellow, with our five hundred thousand troops it should +be easy to have a good style," returned Count Rostopchin. + +Pierre now understood the count's dissatisfaction with the wording +of the Note. + +"One would have thought quill drivers enough had sprung up," remarked +the old prince. "There in Petersburg they are always writing--not +notes only but even new laws. My Andrew there has written a whole +volume of laws for Russia. Nowadays they are always writing!" and he +laughed unnaturally. + +There was a momentary pause in the conversation; the old general +cleared his throat to draw attention. + +"Did you hear of the last event at the review in Petersburg? The +figure cut by the new French ambassador." + +"Eh? Yes, I heard something: he said something awkward in His +Majesty's presence." + +"His Majesty drew attention to the Grenadier division and to the +march past," continued the general, "and it seems the ambassador +took no notice and allowed himself to reply that: 'We in France pay no +attention to such trifles!' The Emperor did not condescend to reply. +At the next review, they say, the Emperor did not once deign to +address him." + +All were silent. On this fact relating to the Emperor personally, it +was impossible to pass any judgment. + +"Impudent fellows!" said the prince. "You know Metivier? I turned him +out of my house this morning. He was here; they admitted him in spite +of my request that they should let no one in," he went on, glancing +angrily at his daughter. + +And he narrated his whole conversation with the French doctor and +the reasons that convinced him that Metivier was a spy. Though these +reasons were very insufficient and obscure, no one made any rejoinder. + +After the roast, champagne was served. The guests rose to +congratulate the old prince. Princess Mary, too, went round to him. + +He gave her a cold, angry look and offered her his wrinkled, +clean-shaven cheek to kiss. The whole expression of his face told +her that he had not forgotten the morning's talk, that his decision +remained in force, and only the presence of visitors hindered his +speaking of it to her now. + +When they went into the drawing room where coffee was served, the +old men sat together. + +Prince Nicholas grew more animated and expressed his views on the +impending war. + +He said that our wars with Bonaparte would be disastrous so long +as we sought alliances with the Germans and thrust ourselves into +European affairs, into which we had been drawn by the Peace of Tilsit. +"We ought not to fight either for or against Austria. Our political +interests are all in the East, and in regard to Bonaparte the only +thing is to have an armed frontier and a firm policy, and he will +never dare to cross the Russian frontier, as was the case in 1807!" + +"How can we fight the French, Prince?" said Count Rostopchin. "Can +we arm ourselves against our teachers and divinities? Look at our +youths, look at our ladies! The French are our Gods: Paris is our +Kingdom of Heaven." + +He began speaking louder, evidently to be heard by everyone. + +"French dresses, French ideas, French feelings! There now, you +turned Metivier out by the scruff of his neck because he is a +Frenchman and a scoundrel, but our ladies crawl after him on their +knees. I went to a party last night, and there out of five ladies +three were Roman Catholics and had the Pope's indulgence for doing +woolwork on Sundays. And they themselves sit there nearly naked, +like the signboards at our Public Baths if I may say so. Ah, when +one looks at our young people, Prince, one would like to take Peter +the Great's old cudgel out of the museum and belabor them in the +Russian way till all the nonsense jumps out of them." + +All were silent. The old prince looked at Rostopchin with a smile +and wagged his head approvingly. + +"Well, good-by, your excellency, keep well!" said Rostopchin, +getting up with characteristic briskness and holding out his hand to +the prince. + +"Good-by, my dear fellow.... His words are music, I never tire of +hearing him!" said the old prince, keeping hold of the hand and +offering his cheek to be kissed. + +Following Rostopchin's example the others also rose. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Princess Mary as she sat listening to the old men's talk and +faultfinding, understood nothing of what she heard; she only +wondered whether the guests had all observed her father's hostile +attitude toward her. She did not even notice the special attentions +and amiabilities shown her during dinner by Boris Drubetskoy, who +was visiting them for the third time already. + +Princess Mary turned with absent-minded questioning look to +Pierre, who hat in hand and with a smile on his face was the last of +the guests to approach her after the old prince had gone out and +they were left alone in the drawing room. + +"May I stay a little longer?" he said, letting his stout body sink +into an armchair beside her. + +"Oh yes," she answered. "You noticed nothing?" her look asked. + +Pierre was in an agreeable after-dinner mood. He looked straight +before him and smiled quietly. + +"Have you known that young man long, Princess?" he asked. + +"Who?" + +"Drubetskoy." + +"No, not long..." + +"Do you like him?" + +"Yes, he is an agreeable young man.... Why do you ask me that?" said +Princess Mary, still thinking of that morning's conversation with +her father. + +"Because I have noticed that when a young man comes on leave from +Petersburg to Moscow it is usually with the object of marrying an +heiress." + +"You have observed that?" said Princess Mary. + +"Yes," returned Pierre with a smile, "and this young man now manages +matters so that where there is a wealthy heiress there he is too. I +can read him like a book. At present he is hesitating whom to lay +siege to--you or Mademoiselle Julie Karagina. He is very attentive +to her." + +"He visits them?" + +"Yes, very often. And do you know the new way of courting?" said +Pierre with an amused smile, evidently in that cheerful mood of good +humored raillery for which he so often reproached himself in his +diary. + +"No," replied Princess Mary. + +"To please Moscow girls nowadays one has to be melancholy. He is +very melancholy with Mademoiselle Karagina," said Pierre. + +"Really?" asked Princess Mary, looking into Pierre's kindly face and +still thinking of her own sorrow. "It would be a relief," thought she, +"if I ventured to confide what I am feeling to someone. I should +like to tell everything to Pierre. He is kind and generous. It would +be a relief. He would give me advice." + +"Would you marry him?" + +"Oh, my God, Count, there are moments when I would marry anybody!" +she cried suddenly to her own surprise and with tears in her voice. +"Ah, how bitter it is to love someone near to you and to feel that..." +she went on in a trembling voice, "that you can do nothing for him but +grieve him, and to know that you cannot alter this. Then there is only +one thing left--to go away, but where could I go?" + +"What is wrong? What is it, Princess?" + +But without finishing what she was saying, Princess Mary burst +into tears. + +"I don't know what is the matter with me today. Don't take any +notice--forget what I have said!" + +Pierre's gaiety vanished completely. He anxiously questioned the +princess, asked her to speak out fully and confide her grief to him; +but she only repeated that she begged him to forget what she had said, +that she did not remember what she had said, and that she had no +trouble except the one he knew of--that Prince Andrew's marriage +threatened to cause a rupture between father and son. + +"Have you any news of the Rostovs?" she asked, to change the +subject. "I was told they are coming soon. I am also expecting +Andrew any day. I should like them to meet here." + +"And how does he now regard the matter?" asked Pierre, referring +to the old prince. + +Princess Mary shook her head. + +"What is to be done? In a few months the year will be up. The +thing is impossible. I only wish I could spare my brother the first +moments. I wish they would come sooner. I hope to be friends with her. +You have known them a long time," said Princess Mary. "Tell me +honestly the whole truth: what sort of girl is she, and what do you +think of her?--The real truth, because you know Andrew is risking so +much doing this against his father's will that I should like to +know..." + +An undefined instinct told Pierre that these explanations, and +repeated requests to be told the whole truth, expressed ill-will on +the princess' part toward her future sister-in-law and a wish that +he should disapprove of Andrew's choice; but in reply he said what +he felt rather than what he thought. + +"I don't know how to answer your question," he said, blushing +without knowing why. "I really don't know what sort of girl she is; +I can't analyze her at all. She is enchanting, but what makes her so I +don't know. That is all one can say about her." + +Princess Mary sighed, and the expression on her face said: "Yes, +that's what I expected and feared." + +"Is she clever?" she asked. + +Pierre considered. + +"I think not," he said, "and yet--yes. She does not deign to be +clever.... Oh no, she is simply enchanting, and that is all." + +Princess Mary again shook her head disapprovingly. + +"Ah, I so long to like her! Tell her so if you see her before I do." + +"I hear they are expected very soon," said Pierre. + +Princess Mary told Pierre of her plan to become intimate with her +future sister-in-law as soon as the Rostovs arrived and to try to +accustom the old prince to her. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Boris had not succeeded in making a wealthy match in Petersburg, +so with the same object in view he came to Moscow. There he wavered +between the two richest heiresses, Julie and Princess Mary. Though +Princess Mary despite her plainness seemed to him more attractive than +Julie, he, without knowing why, felt awkward about paying court to +her. When they had last met on the old prince's name day, she had +answered at random all his attempts to talk sentimentally, evidently +not listening to what he was saying. + +Julie on the contrary accepted his attentions readily, though in a +manner peculiar to herself. + +She was twenty-seven. After the death of her brothers she had become +very wealthy. She was by now decidedly plain, but thought herself +not merely as good-looking as before but even far more attractive. She +was confirmed in this delusion by the fact that she had become a +very wealthy heiress and also by the fact that the older she grew +the less dangerous she became to men, and the more freely they could +associate with her and avail themselves of her suppers, soirees, and +the animated company that assembled at her house, without incurring +any obligation. A man who would have been afraid ten years before of +going every day to the house when there was a girl of seventeen there, +for fear of compromising her and committing himself, would now go +boldly every day and treat her not as a marriageable girl but as a +sexless acquaintance. + +That winter the Karagins' house was the most agreeable and +hospitable in Moscow. In addition to the formal evening and dinner +parties, a large company, chiefly of men, gathered there every day, +supping at midnight and staying till three in the morning. Julie never +missed a ball, a promenade, or a play. Her dresses were always of +the latest fashion. But in spite of that she seemed to be +disillusioned about everything and told everyone that she did not +believe either in friendship or in love, or any of the joys of life, +and expected peace only "yonder." She adopted the tone of one who +has suffered a great disappointment, like a girl who has either lost +the man she loved or been cruelly deceived by him. Though nothing of +the kind had happened to her she was regarded in that light, and had +even herself come to believe that she had suffered much in life. +This melancholy, which did not prevent her amusing herself, did not +hinder the young people who came to her house from passing the time +pleasantly. Every visitor who came to the house paid his tribute to +the melancholy mood of the hostess, and then amused himself with +society gossip, dancing, intellectual games, and bouts rimes, which +were in vogue at the Karagins'. Only a few of these young men, among +them Boris, entered more deeply into Julie's melancholy, and with +these she had prolonged conversations in private on the vanity of +all worldly things, and to them she showed her albums filled with +mournful sketches, maxims, and verses. + +To Boris, Julie was particularly gracious: she regretted his early +disillusionment with life, offered him such consolation of +friendship as she who had herself suffered so much could render, and +showed him her album. Boris sketched two trees in the album and wrote: +"Rustic trees, your dark branches shed gloom and melancholy upon me." + +On another page he drew a tomb, and wrote: + + La mort est secourable et la mort est tranquille. + Ah! contre les douleurs il n'y a pas d'autre asile.* + + +*Death gives relief and death is peaceful. + + +Ah! from suffering there is no other refuge. + +Julie said this was charming + +"There is something so enchanting in the smile of melancholy," she +said to Boris, repeating word for word a passage she had copied from a +book. "It is a ray of light in the darkness, a shade between sadness +and despair, showing the possibility of consolation." + +In reply Boris wrote these lines: + + Aliment de poison d'une ame trop sensible, + Toi, sans qui le bonheur me serait impossible, + Tendre melancholie, ah, viens me consoler, + Viens calmer les tourments de ma sombre retraite, + Et mele une douceur secrete + A ces pleurs que je sens couler.* + + +*Poisonous nourishment of a too sensitive soul, + + Thou, without whom happiness would for me be impossible, + + Tender melancholy, ah, come to console me, + + Come to calm the torments of my gloomy retreat, + + And mingle a secret sweetness + + With these tears that I feel to be flowing. + + +For Boris, Julie played most doleful nocturnes on her harp. Boris +read Poor Liza aloud to her, and more than once interrupted the +reading because of the emotions that choked him. Meeting at large +gatherings Julie and Boris looked on one another as the only souls who +understood one another in a world of indifferent people. + +Anna Mikhaylovna, who often visited the Karagins, while playing +cards with the mother made careful inquiries as to Julie's dowry +(she was to have two estates in Penza and the Nizhegorod forests). +Anna Mikhaylovna regarded the refined sadness that united her son to +the wealthy Julie with emotion, and resignation to the Divine will. + +"You are always charming and melancholy, my dear Julie," she said to +the daughter. "Boris says his soul finds repose at your house. He +has suffered so many disappointments and is so sensitive," said she to +the mother. "Ah, my dear, I can't tell you how fond I have grown of +Julie latterly," she said to her son. "But who could help loving +her? She is an angelic being! Ah, Boris, Boris!"--she paused. "And how +I pity her mother," she went on; "today she showed me her accounts and +letters from Penza (they have enormous estates there), and she, poor +thing, has no one to help her, and they do cheat her so!" + +Boris smiled almost imperceptibly while listening to his mother. +He laughed blandly at her naive diplomacy but listened to what she had +to say, and sometimes questioned her carefully about the Penza and +Nizhegorod estates. + +Julie had long been expecting a proposal from her melancholy +adorer and was ready to accept it; but some secret feeling of +repulsion for her, for her passionate desire to get married, for her +artificiality, and a feeling of horror at renouncing the possibility +of real love still restrained Boris. His leave was expiring. He +spent every day and whole days at the Karagins', and every day on +thinking the matter over told himself that he would propose +tomorrow. But in Julie's presence, looking at her red face and chin +(nearly always powdered), her moist eyes, and her expression of +continual readiness to pass at once from melancholy to an unnatural +rapture of married bliss, Boris could not utter the decisive words, +though in imagination he had long regarded himself as the possessor of +those Penza and Nizhegorod estates and had apportioned the use of +the income from them. Julie saw Boris' indecision, and sometimes the +thought occurred to her that she was repulsive to him, but her +feminine self-deception immediately supplied her with consolation, and +she told herself that he was only shy from love. Her melancholy, +however, began to turn to irritability, and not long before Boris' +departure she formed a definite plan of action. Just as Boris' leave +of absence was expiring, Anatole Kuragin made his appearance in +Moscow, and of course in the Karagins' drawing room, and Julie, +suddenly abandoning her melancholy, became cheerful and very attentive +to Kuragin. + +"My dear," said Anna Mikhaylovna to her son, "I know from a reliable +source that Prince Vasili has sent his son to Moscow to get him +married to Julie. I am so fond of Julie that I should be sorry for +her. What do you think of it, my dear?" + +The idea of being made a fool of and of having thrown away that +whole month of arduous melancholy service to Julie, and of seeing +all the revenue from the Penza estates which he had already mentally +apportioned and put to proper use fall into the hands of another, +and especially into the hands of that idiot Anatole, pained Boris. +He drove to the Karagins' with the firm intention of proposing. +Julie met him in a gay, careless manner, spoke casually of how she had +enjoyed yesterday's ball, and asked when he was leaving. Though +Boris had come intentionally to speak of his love and therefore +meant to be tender, he began speaking irritably of feminine +inconstancy, of how easily women can turn from sadness to joy, and how +their moods depend solely on who happens to be paying court to them. +Julie was offended and replied that it was true that a woman needs +variety, and the same thing over and over again would weary anyone. + +"Then I should advise you..." Boris began, wishing to sting her; but +at that instant the galling thought occurred to him that he might have +to leave Moscow without having accomplished his aim, and have vainly +wasted his efforts--which was a thing he never allowed to happen. + +He checked himself in the middle of the sentence, lowered his eyes +to avoid seeing her unpleasantly irritated and irresolute face, and +said: + +"I did not come here at all to quarrel with you. On the contrary..." + +He glanced at her to make sure that he might go on. Her irritability +had suddenly quite vanished, and her anxious, imploring eyes were +fixed on him with greedy expectation. "I can always arrange so as +not to see her often," thought Boris. "The affair has been begun and +must be finished!" He blushed hotly, raised his eyes to hers, and +said: + +"You know my feelings for you!" + +There was no need to say more: Julie's face shone with triumph and +self-satisfaction; but she forced Boris to say all that is said on +such occasions--that he loved her and had never loved any other +woman more than her. She knew that for the Penza estates and +Nizhegorod forests she could demand this, and she received what she +demanded. + +The affianced couple, no longer alluding to trees that shed gloom +and melancholy upon them, planned the arrangements of a splendid house +in Petersburg, paid calls, and prepared everything for a brilliant +wedding. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +At the end of January old Count Rostov went to Moscow with Natasha +and Sonya. The countess was still unwell and unable to travel but it +was impossible to wait for her recovery. Prince Andrew was expected in +Moscow any day, the trousseau had to be ordered and the estate near +Moscow had to be sold, besides which the opportunity of presenting his +future daughter-in-law to old Prince Bolkonski while he was in +Moscow could not be missed. The Rostovs' Moscow house had not been +heated that winter and, as they had come only for a short time and the +countess was not with them, the count decided to stay with Marya +Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, who had long been pressing her hospitality +on them. + +Late one evening the Rostovs' four sleighs drove into Marya +Dmitrievna's courtyard in the old Konyusheny street. Marya +Dmitrievna lived alone. She had already married off her daughter, +and her sons were all in the service. + +She held herself as erect, told everyone her opinion as candidly, +loudly, and bluntly as ever, and her whole bearing seemed a reproach +to others for any weakness, passion, or temptation--the possibility of +which she did not admit. From early in the morning, wearing a dressing +jacket, she attended to her household affairs, and then she drove out: +on holy days to church and after the service to jails and prisons on +affairs of which she never spoke to anyone. On ordinary days, after +dressing, she received petitioners of various classes, of whom there +were always some. Then she had dinner, a substantial and appetizing +meal at which there were always three or four guests; after dinner she +played a game of boston, and at night she had the newspapers or a +new book read to her while she knitted. She rarely made an exception +and went out to pay visits, and then only to the most important +persons in the town. + +She had not yet gone to bed when the Rostovs arrived and the +pulley of the hall door squeaked from the cold as it let in the +Rostovs and their servants. Marya Dmitrievna, with her spectacles +hanging down on her nose and her head flung back, stood in the hall +doorway looking with a stern, grim face at the new arrivals. One might +have thought she was angry with the travelers and would immediately +turn them out, had she not at the same time been giving careful +instructions to the servants for the accommodation of the visitors and +their belongings. + +"The count's things? Bring them here," she said, pointing to the +portmanteaus and not greeting anyone. "The young ladies'? There to the +left. Now what are you dawdling for?" she cried to the maids. "Get the +samovar ready!... You've grown plumper and prettier," she remarked, +drawing Natasha (whose cheeks were glowing from the cold) to her by +the hood. "Foo! You are cold! Now take off your things, quick!" she +shouted to the count who was going to kiss her hand. "You're half +frozen, I'm sure! Bring some rum for tea!... Bonjour, Sonya dear!" she +added, turning to Sonya and indicating by this French greeting her +slightly contemptuous though affectionate attitude toward her. + +When they came in to tea, having taken off their outdoor things +and tidied themselves up after their journey, Marya Dmitrievna +kissed them all in due order. + +"I'm heartily glad you have come and are staying with me. It was +high time," she said, giving Natasha a significant look. "The old +man is here and his son's expected any day. You'll have to make his +acquaintance. But we'll speak of that later on," she added, glancing at +Sonya with a look that showed she did not want to speak of it in her +presence. "Now listen," she said to the count. "What do you want +tomorrow? Whom will you send for? Shinshin?" she crooked one of her +fingers. "The sniveling Anna Mikhaylovna? That's two. She's here +with her son. The son is getting married! Then Bezukhov, eh? He is +here too, with his wife. He ran away from her and she came galloping +after him. He dined with me on Wednesday. As for them"--and she +pointed to the girls--"tomorrow I'll take them first to the Iberian +shrine of the Mother of God, and then we'll drive to the +Super-Rogue's. I suppose you'll have everything new. Don't judge by +me: sleeves nowadays are this size! The other day young Princess Irina +Vasilevna came to see me; she was an awful sight--looked as if she had +put two barrels on her arms. You know not a day passes now without +some new fashion.... And what have you to do yourself?" she asked +the count sternly. + +"One thing has come on top of another: her rags to buy, and now a +purchaser has turned up for the Moscow estate and for the house. If +you will be so kind, I'll fix a time and go down to the estate just +for a day, and leave my lassies with you." + +"All right. All right. They'll be safe with me, as safe as in +Chancery! I'll take them where they must go, scold them a bit, and pet +them a bit," said Marya Dmitrievna, touching her goddaughter and +favorite, Natasha, on the cheek with her large hand. + +Next morning Marya Dmitrievna took the young ladies to the Iberian +shrine of the Mother of God and to Madame Suppert-Roguet, who was so +afraid of Marya Dmitrievna that she always let her have costumes at +a loss merely to get rid of her. Marya Dmitrievna ordered almost the +whole trousseau. When they got home she turned everybody out of the +room except Natasha, and then called her pet to her armchair. + +"Well, now we'll talk. I congratulate you on your betrothed. +You've hooked a fine fellow! I am glad for your sake and I've known +him since he was so high." She held her hand a couple of feet from the +ground. Natasha blushed happily. "I like him and all his family. Now +listen! You know that old Prince Nicholas much dislikes his son's +marrying. The old fellow's crotchety! Of course Prince Andrew is not a +child and can shift without him, but it's not nice to enter a family +against a father's will. One wants to do it peacefully and lovingly. +You're a clever girl and you'll know how to manage. Be kind, and use +your wits. Then all will be well." + +Natasha remained silent, from shyness Marya Dmitrievna supposed, but +really because she disliked anyone interfering in what touched her +love of Prince Andrew, which seemed to her so apart from all human +affairs that no one could understand it. She loved and knew Prince +Andrew, he loved her only, and was to come one of these days and +take her. She wanted nothing more. + +"You see I have known him a long time and am also fond of Mary, your +future sister-in-law. 'Husbands' sisters bring up blisters,' but +this one wouldn't hurt a fly. She has asked me to bring you two +together. Tomorrow you'll go with your father to see her. Be very nice +and affectionate to her: you're younger than she. When he comes, he'll +find you already know his sister and father and are liked by them. +Am I right or not? Won't that be best?" + +"Yes, it will," Natasha answered reluctantly. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Next day, by Marya Dmitrievna's advice, Count Rostov took Natasha to +call on Prince Nicholas Bolkonski. The count did not set out +cheerfully on this visit, at heart he felt afraid. He well +remembered the last interview he had had with the old prince at the +time of the enrollment, when in reply to an invitation to dinner he +had had to listen to an angry reprimand for not having provided his +full quota of men. Natasha, on the other hand, having put on her +best gown, was in the highest spirits. "They can't help liking me," +she thought. "Everybody always has liked me, and I am so willing to do +anything they wish, so ready to be fond of him--for being his +father--and of her--for being his sister--that there is no reason +for them not to like me..." + +They drove up to the gloomy old house on the Vozdvizhenka and +entered the vestibule. + +"Well, the Lord have mercy on us!" said the count, half in jest, +half in earnest; but Natasha noticed that her father was flurried on +entering the anteroom and inquired timidly and softly whether the +prince and princess were at home. + +When they had been announced a perturbation was noticeable among the +servants. The footman who had gone to announce them was stopped by +another in the large hall and they whispered to one another. Then a +maidservant ran into the hall and hurriedly said something, mentioning +the princess. At last an old, cross looking footman came and announced +to the Rostovs that the prince was not receiving, but that the +princess begged them to walk up. The first person who came to meet the +visitors was Mademoiselle Bourienne. She greeted the father and +daughter with special politeness and showed them to the princess' +room. The princess, looking excited and nervous, her face flushed in +patches, ran in to meet the visitors, treading heavily, and vainly +trying to appear cordial and at ease. From the first glance Princess +Mary did not like Natasha. She thought her too fashionably dressed, +frivolously gay and vain. She did not at all realize that before +having seen her future sister-in-law she was prejudiced against her by +involuntary envy of her beauty, youth, and happiness, as well as by +jealousy of her brother's love for her. Apart from this insuperable +antipathy to her, Princess Mary was agitated just then because on +the Rostovs' being announced, the old prince had shouted that he did +not wish to see them, that Princess Mary might do so if she chose, but +they were not to be admitted to him. She had decided to receive +them, but feared lest the prince might at any moment indulge in some +freak, as he seemed much upset by the Rostovs' visit. + +"There, my dear princess, I've brought you my songstress," said +the count, bowing and looking round uneasily as if afraid the old +prince might appear. "I am so glad you should get to know one +another... very sorry the prince is still ailing," and after a few +more commonplace remarks he rose. "If you'll allow me to leave my +Natasha in your hands for a quarter of an hour, Princess, I'll drive +round to see Anna Semenovna, it's quite near in the Dogs' Square, +and then I'll come back for her." + +The count had devised this diplomatic ruse (as he afterwards told +his daughter) to give the future sisters-in-law an opportunity to talk +to one another freely, but another motive was to avoid the danger of +encountering the old prince, of whom he was afraid. He did not mention +this to his daughter, but Natasha noticed her father's nervousness and +anxiety and felt mortified by it. She blushed for him, grew still +angrier at having blushed, and looked at the princess with a bold +and defiant expression which said that she was not afraid of +anybody. The princess told the count that she would be delighted, +and only begged him to stay longer at Anna Semenovna's, and he +departed. + +Despite the uneasy glances thrown at her by Princess Mary--who +wished to have a tete-a-tete with Natasha--Mademoiselle Bourienne +remained in the room and persistently talked about Moscow amusements +and theaters. Natasha felt offended by the hesitation she had +noticed in the anteroom, by her father's nervousness, and by the +unnatural manner of the princess who--she thought--was making a +favor of receiving her, and so everything displeased her. She did +not like Princess Mary, whom she thought very plain, affected, and +dry. Natasha suddenly shrank into herself and involuntarily assumed an +offhand air which alienated Princess Mary still more. After five +minutes of irksome, constrained conversation, they heard the sound +of slippered feet rapidly approaching. Princess Mary looked +frightened. + +The door opened and the old prince, in a dressing gown and a white +nightcap, came in. + +"Ah, madam!" he began. "Madam, Countess... Countess Rostova, if I am +not mistaken... I beg you to excuse me, to excuse me... I did not +know, madam. God is my witness, I did not know you had honored us with +a visit, and I came in such a costume only to see my daughter. I beg +you to excuse me... God is my witness, I didn't know-" he repeated, +stressing the word "God" so unnaturally and so unpleasantly that +Princess Mary stood with downcast eyes not daring to look either at +her father or at Natasha. + +Nor did the latter, having risen and curtsied, know what to do. +Mademoiselle Bourienne alone smiled agreeably. + +"I beg you to excuse me, excuse me! God is my witness, I did not +know," muttered the old man, and after looking Natasha over from +head to foot he went out. + +Mademoiselle Bourienne was the first to recover herself after this +apparition and began speaking about the prince's indisposition. +Natasha and Princess Mary looked at one another in silence, and the +longer they did so without saying what they wanted to say, the greater +grew their antipathy to one another. + +When the count returned, Natasha was impolitely pleased and hastened +to get away: at that moment she hated the stiff, elderly princess, who +could place her in such an embarrassing position and had spent half an +hour with her without once mentioning Prince Andrew. "I couldn't begin +talking about him in the presence of that Frenchwoman," thought +Natasha. The same thought was meanwhile tormenting Princess Mary. +She knew what she ought to have said to Natasha, but she had been +unable to say it because Mademoiselle Bourienne was in the way, and +because, without knowing why, she felt it very difficult to speak of +the marriage. When the count was already leaving the room, Princess +Mary went up hurriedly to Natasha, took her by the hand, and said with +a deep sigh: + +"Wait, I must..." + +Natasha glanced at her ironically without knowing why. + +"Dear Natalie," said Princess Mary, "I want you to know that I am +glad my brother has found happiness...." + +She paused, feeling that she was not telling the truth. Natasha +noticed this and guessed its reason. + +"I think, Princess, it is not convenient to speak of that now," +she said with external dignity and coldness, though she felt the tears +choking her. + +"What have I said and what have I done?" thought she, as soon as she +was out of the room. + +They waited a long time for Natasha to come to dinner that day. +She sat in her room crying like a child, blowing her nose and sobbing. +Sonya stood beside her, kissing her hair. + +"Natasha, what is it about?" she asked. "What do they matter to you? +It will all pass, Natasha." + +"But if you only knew how offensive it was... as if I..." + +"Don't talk about it, Natasha. It wasn't your fault so why should +you mind? Kiss me," said Sonya. + +Natasha raised her head and, kissing her friend on the lips, pressed +her wet face against her. + +"I can't tell you, I don't know. No one's to blame," said +Natasha--"It's my fault. But it all hurts terribly. Oh, why doesn't he +come?..." + +She came in to dinner with red eyes. Marya Dmitrievna, who knew +how the prince had received the Rostovs, pretended not to notice how +upset Natasha was and jested resolutely and loudly at table with the +count and the other guests. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +That evening the Rostovs went to the Opera, for which Marya +Dmitrievna had taken a box. + +Natasha did not want to go, but could not refuse Marya +Dmitrievna's kind offer which was intended expressly for her. When she +came ready dressed into the ballroom to await her father, and +looking in the large mirror there saw that she was pretty, very +pretty, she felt even more sad, but it was a sweet, tender sadness. + +"O God, if he were here now I would not behave as I did then, but +differently. I would not be silly and afraid of things, I would simply +embrace him, cling to him, and make him look at me with those +searching inquiring eyes with which he has so often looked at me, +and then I would make him laugh as he used to laugh. And his eyes--how +I see those eyes!" thought Natasha. "And what do his father and sister +matter to me? I love him alone, him, him, with that face and those +eyes, with his smile, manly and yet childlike.... No, I had better not +think of him; not think of him but forget him, quite forget him for +the present. I can't bear this waiting and I shall cry in a minute!" +and she turned away from the glass, making an effort not to cry. +"And how can Sonya love Nicholas so calmly and quietly and wait so +long and so patiently?" thought she, looking at Sonya, who also came +in quite ready, with a fan in her hand. "No, she's altogether +different. I can't!" + +Natasha at that moment felt so softened and tender that it was not +enough for her to love and know she was beloved, she wanted now, at +once, to embrace the man she loved, to speak and hear from him words +of love such as filled her heart. While she sat in the carriage beside +her father, pensively watching the lights of the street lamps +flickering on the frozen window, she felt still sadder and more in +love, and forgot where she was going and with whom. Having fallen into +the line of carriages, the Rostovs' carriage drove up to the +theater, its wheels squeaking over the snow. Natasha and Sonya, +holding up their dresses, jumped out quickly. The count got out helped +by the footmen, and, passing among men and women who were entering and +the program sellers, they all three went along the corridor to the +first row of boxes. Through the closed doors the music was already +audible. + +"Natasha, your hair!..." whispered Sonya. + +An attendant deferentially and quickly slipped before the ladies and +opened the door of their box. The music sounded louder and through the +door rows of brightly lit boxes in which ladies sat with bare arms and +shoulders, and noisy stalls brilliant with uniforms, glittered +before their eyes. A lady entering the next box shot a glance of +feminine envy at Natasha. The curtain had not yet risen and the +overture was being played. Natasha, smoothing her gown, went in with +Sonya and sat down, scanning the brilliant tiers of boxes opposite. +A sensation she had not experienced for a long time--that of +hundreds of eyes looking at her bare arms and neck--suddenly +affected her both agreeably and disagreeably and called up a whole +crowd of memories, desires and emotions associated with that feeling. + +The two remarkably pretty girls, Natasha and Sonya, with Count +Rostov who had not been seen in Moscow for a long time, attracted +general attention. Moreover, everybody knew vaguely of Natasha's +engagement to Prince Andrew, and knew that the Rostovs had lived in +the country ever since, and all looked with curiosity at a fiancee who +was making one of the best matches in Russia. + +Natasha's looks, as everyone told her, had improved in the +country, and that evening thanks to her agitation she was particularly +pretty. She struck those who saw her by her fullness of life and +beauty, combined with her indifference to everything about her. Her +black eyes looked at the crowd without seeking anyone, and her +delicate arm, bare to above the elbow, lay on the velvet edge of the +box, while, evidently unconsciously, she opened and closed her hand in +time to the music, crumpling her program. "Look, there's Alenina," +said Sonya, "with her mother, isn't it?" + +"Dear me, Michael Kirilovich has grown still stouter!" remarked +the count. + +"Look at our Anna Mikhaylovna--what a headdress she has on!" + +"The Karagins, Julie--and Boris with them. One can see at once +that they're engaged...." + +"Drubetskoy has proposed?" + +"Oh yes, I heard it today," said Shinshin, coming into the +Rostovs' box. + +Natasha looked in the direction in which her father's eyes were +turned and saw Julie sitting beside her mother with a happy look on +her face and a string of pearls round her thick red neck--which +Natasha knew was covered with powder. Behind them, wearing a smile and +leaning over with an ear to Julie's mouth, was Boris' handsome +smoothly brushed head. He looked at the Rostovs from under his brows +and said something, smiling, to his betrothed. + +"They are talking about us, about me and him!" thought Natasha. "And +he no doubt is calming her jealousy of me. They needn't trouble +themselves! If only they knew how little I am concerned about any of +them." + +Behind them sat Anna Mikhaylovna wearing a green headdress and +with a happy look of resignation to the will of God on her face. Their +box was pervaded by that atmosphere of an affianced couple which +Natasha knew so well and liked so much. She turned away and suddenly +remembered all that had been so humiliating in her morning's visit. + +"What right has he not to wish to receive me into his family? Oh, +better not think of it--not till he comes back!" she told herself, and +began looking at the faces, some strange and some familiar, in the +stalls. In the front, in the very center, leaning back against the +orchestra rail, stood Dolokhov in a Persian dress, his curly hair +brushed up into a huge shock. He stood in full view of the audience, +well aware that he was attracting everyone's attention, yet as much at +ease as though he were in his own room. Around him thronged Moscow's +most brilliant young men, whom he evidently dominated. + +The count, laughing, nudged the blushing Sonya and pointed to her +former adorer. + +"Do you recognize him?" said he. "And where has he sprung from?" +he asked, turning to Shinshin. "Didn't he vanish somewhere?" + +"He did," replied Shinshin. "He was in the Caucasus and ran away +from there. They say he has been acting as minister to some ruling +prince in Persia, where he killed the Shah's brother. Now all the +Moscow ladies are mad about him! It's 'Dolokhov the Persian' that does +it! We never hear a word but Dolokhov is mentioned. They swear by him, +they offer him to you as they would a dish of choice sterlet. Dolokhov +and Anatole Kuragin have turned all our ladies' heads." + +A tall, beautiful woman with a mass of plaited hair and much exposed +plump white shoulders and neck, round which she wore a double string +of large pearls, entered the adjoining box rustling her heavy silk +dress and took a long time settling into her place. + +Natasha involuntarily gazed at that neck, those shoulders, and +pearls and coiffure, and admired the beauty of the shoulders and the +pearls. While Natasha was fixing her gaze on her for the second time +the lady looked round and, meeting the count's eyes, nodded to him and +smiled. She was the Countess Bezukhova, Pierre's wife, and the +count, who knew everyone in society, leaned over and spoke to her. + +"Have you been here long, Countess?" he inquired. "I'll call, I'll +call to kiss your hand. I'm here on business and have brought my girls +with me. They say Semenova acts marvelously. Count Pierre never used +to forget us. Is he here?" + +"Yes, he meant to look in," answered Helene, and glanced attentively +at Natasha. + +Count Rostov resumed his seat. + +"Handsome, isn't she?" he whispered to Natasha. + +"Wonderful!" answered Natasha. "She's a woman one could easily +fall in love with." + +Just then the last chords of the overture were heard and the +conductor tapped with his stick. Some latecomers took their seats in +the stalls, and the curtain rose. + +As soon as it rose everyone in the boxes and stalls became silent, +and all the men, old and young, in uniform and evening dress, and +all the women with gems on their bare flesh, turned their whole +attention with eager curiosity to the stage. Natasha too began to look +at it. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The floor of the stage consisted of smooth boards, at the sides +was some painted cardboard representing trees, and at the back was a +cloth stretched over boards. In the center of the stage sat some girls +in red bodices and white skirts. One very fat girl in a white silk +dress sat apart on a low bench, to the back of which a piece of +green cardboard was glued. They all sang something. When they had +finished their song the girl in white went up to the prompter's box +and a man with tight silk trousers over his stout legs, and holding +a plume and a dagger, went up to her and began singing, waving his +arms about. + +First the man in the tight trousers sang alone, then she sang, +then they both paused while the orchestra played and the man +fingered the hand of the girl in white, obviously awaiting the beat to +start singing with her. They sang together and everyone in the theater +began clapping and shouting, while the man and woman on the stage--who +represented lovers--began smiling, spreading out their arms, and +bowing. + +After her life in the country, and in her present serious mood, +all this seemed grotesque and amazing to Natasha. She could not follow +the opera nor even listen to the music; she saw only the painted +cardboard and the queerly dressed men and women who moved, spoke, +and sang so strangely in that brilliant light. She knew what it was +all meant to represent, but it was so pretentiously false and +unnatural that she first felt ashamed for the actors and then amused +at them. She looked at the faces of the audience, seeking in them +the same sense of ridicule and perplexity she herself experienced, but +they all seemed attentive to what was happening on the stage, and +expressed delight which to Natasha seemed feigned. "I suppose it has +to be like this!" she thought. She kept looking round in turn at the +rows of pomaded heads in the stalls and then at the seminude women +in the boxes, especially at Helene in the next box, who--apparently +quite unclothed--sat with a quiet tranquil smile, not taking her +eyes off the stage. And feeling the bright light that flooded the +whole place and the warm air heated by the crowd, Natasha little by +little began to pass into a state of intoxication she had not +experienced for a long while. She did not realize who and where she +was, nor what was going on before her. As she looked and thought, +the strangest fancies unexpectedly and disconnectedly passed through +her mind: the idea occurred to her of jumping onto the edge of the box +and singing the air the actress was singing, then she wished to +touch with her fan an old gentleman sitting not far from her, then +to lean over to Helene and tickle her. + +At a moment when all was quiet before the commencement of a song, +a door leading to the stalls on the side nearest the Rostovs' box +creaked, and the steps of a belated arrival were heard. "There's +Kuragin!" whispered Shinshin. Countess Bezukhova turned smiling to the +newcomer, and Natasha, following the direction of that look, saw an +exceptionally handsome adjutant approaching their box with a +self-assured yet courteous bearing. This was Anatole Kuragin whom +she had seen and noticed long ago at the ball in Petersburg. He was +now in an adjutant's uniform with one epaulet and a shoulder knot. +He moved with a restrained swagger which would have been ridiculous +had he not been so good-looking and had his handsome face not worn +such an expression of good-humored complacency and gaiety. Though +the performance was proceeding, he walked deliberately down the +carpeted gangway, his sword and spurs slightly jingling and his +handsome perfumed head held high. Having looked at Natasha he +approached his sister, laid his well gloved hand on the edge of her +box, nodded to her, and leaning forward asked a question, with a +motion toward Natasha. + +"Mais charmante!" said he, evidently referring to Natasha, who did +not exactly hear his words but understood them from the movement of +his lips. Then he took his place in the first row of the stalls and +sat down beside Dolokhov, nudging with his elbow in a friendly and +offhand way that Dolokhov whom others treated so fawningly. He +winked at him gaily, smiled, and rested his foot against the orchestra +screen. + +"How like the brother is to the sister," remarked the count. "And +how handsome they both are!" + +Shinshin, lowering his voice, began to tell the count of some +intrigue of Kuragin's in Moscow, and Natasha tried to overhear it just +because he had said she was "charmante." + +The first act was over. In the stalls everyone began moving about, +going out and coming in. + +Boris came to the Rostovs' box, received their congratulations +very simply, and raising his eyebrows with an absent-minded smile +conveyed to Natasha and Sonya his fiancee's invitation to her wedding, +and went away. Natasha with a gay, coquettish smile talked to him, and +congratulated on his approaching wedding that same Boris with whom she +had formerly been in love. In the state of intoxication she was in, +everything seemed simple and natural. + +The scantily clad Helene smiled at everyone in the same way, and +Natasha gave Boris a similar smile. + +Helene's box was filled and surrounded from the stalls by the most +distinguished and intellectual men, who seemed to vie with one another +in their wish to let everyone see that they knew her. + +During the whole of that entr'acte Kuragin stood with Dolokhov in +front of the orchestra partition, looking at the Rostovs' box. Natasha +knew he was talking about her and this afforded her pleasure. She even +turned so that he should see her profile in what she thought was its +most becoming aspect. Before the beginning of the second act Pierre +appeared in the stalls. The Rostovs had not seen him since their +arrival. His face looked sad, and he had grown still stouter since +Natasha last saw him. He passed up to the front rows, not noticing +anyone. Anatole went up to him and began speaking to him, looking at +and indicating the Rostovs' box. On seeing Natasha Pierre grew +animated and, hastily passing between the rows, came toward their box. +When he got there he leaned on his elbows and, smiling, talked to +her for a long time. While conversing with Pierre, Natasha heard a +man's voice in Countess Bezukhova's box and something told her it +was Kuragin. She turned and their eyes met. Almost smiling, he gazed +straight into her eyes with such an enraptured caressing look that +it seemed strange to be so near him, to look at him like that, to be +so sure he admired her, and not to be acquainted with him. + +In the second act there was scenery representing tombstones, there +was a round hole in the canvas to represent the moon, shades were +raised over the footlights, and from horns and contrabass came deep +notes while many people appeared from right and left wearing black +cloaks and holding things like daggers in their hands. They began +waving their arms. Then some other people ran in and began dragging +away the maiden who had been in white and was now in light blue. +They did not drag her away at once, but sang with her for a long +time and then at last dragged her off, and behind the scenes something +metallic was struck three times and everyone knelt down and sang a +prayer. All these things were repeatedly interrupted by the +enthusiastic shouts of the audience. + +During this act every time Natasha looked toward the stalls she +saw Anatole Kuragin with an arm thrown across the back of his chair, +staring at her. She was pleased to see that he was captivated by her +and it did not occur to her that there was anything wrong in it. + +When the second act was over Countess Bezukhova rose, turned to +the Rostovs' box--her whole bosom completely exposed--beckoned the old +count with a gloved finger, and paying no attention to those who had +entered her box began talking to him with an amiable smile. + +"Do make me acquainted with your charming daughters," said she. "The +whole town is singing their praises and I don't even know then!" + +Natasha rose and curtsied to the splendid countess. She was so +pleased by praise from this brilliant beauty that she blushed with +pleasure. + +"I want to become a Moscovite too, now," said Helene. "How is it +you're not ashamed to bury such pearls in the country?" + +Countess Bezukhova quite deserved her reputation of being a +fascinating woman. She could say what she did not think--especially +what was flattering--quite simply and naturally. + +"Dear count, you must let me look after your daughters! Though I +am not staying here long this time--nor are you--I will try to amuse +them. I have already heard much of you in Petersburg and wanted to get +to know you," said she to Natasha with her stereotyped and lovely +smile. "I had heard about you from my page, Drubetskoy. Have you heard +he is getting married? And also from my husband's friend Bolkonski, +Prince Andrew Bolkonski," she went on with special emphasis, +implying that she knew of his relation to Natasha. To get better +acquainted she asked that one of the young ladies should come into her +box for the rest of the performance, and Natasha moved over to it. + +The scene of the third act represented a palace in which many +candles were burning and pictures of knights with short beards hung on +the walls. In the middle stood what were probably a king and a +queen. The king waved his right arm and, evidently nervous, sang +something badly and sat down on a crimson throne. The maiden who had +been first in white and then in light blue, now wore only a smock, and +stood beside the throne with her hair down. She sang something +mournfully, addressing the queen, but the king waved his arm severely, +and men and women with bare legs came in from both sides and began +dancing all together. Then the violins played very shrilly and merrily +and one of the women with thick bare legs and thin arms, separating +from the others, went behind the wings, adjusted her bodice, +returned to the middle of the stage, and began jumping and striking +one foot rapidly against the other. In the stalls everyone clapped and +shouted "bravo!" Then one of the men went into a corner of the +stage. The cymbals and horns in the orchestra struck up more loudly, +and this man with bare legs jumped very high and waved his feet +about very rapidly. (He was Duport, who received sixty thousand rubles +a year for this art.) Everybody in the stalls, boxes, and galleries +began clapping and shouting with all their might, and the man +stopped and began smiling and bowing to all sides. Then other men +and women danced with bare legs. Then the king again shouted to the +sound of music, and they all began singing. But suddenly a storm +came on, chromatic scales and diminished sevenths were heard in the +orchestra, everyone ran off, again dragging one of their number +away, and the curtain dropped. Once more there was a terrible noise +and clatter among the audience, and with rapturous faces everyone +began shouting: "Duport! Duport! Duport!" Natasha no longer thought +this strange. She looked about with pleasure, smiling joyfully. + +"Isn't Duport delightful?" Helene asked her. + +"Oh, yes," replied Natasha. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +During the entr'acte a whiff of cold air came into Helene's box, the +door opened, and Anatole entered, stooping and trying not to brush +against anyone. + +"Let me introduce my brother to you," said Helene, her eyes shifting +uneasily from Natasha to Anatole. + +Natasha turned her pretty little head toward the elegant young +officer and smiled at him over her bare shoulder. Anatole, who was +as handsome at close quarters as at a distance, sat down beside her +and told her he had long wished to have this happiness--ever since the +Naryshkins' ball in fact, at which he had had the well-remembered +pleasure of seeing her. Kuragin was much more sensible and simple with +women than among men. He talked boldly and naturally, and Natasha +was strangely and agreeably struck by the fact that there was +nothing formidable in this man about whom there was so much talk, +but that on the contrary his smile was most naive, cheerful, and +good-natured. + +Kuragin asked her opinion of the performance and told her how at a +previous performance Semenova had fallen down on the stage. + +"And do you know, Countess," he said, suddenly addressing her as +an old, familiar acquaintance, "we are getting up a costume +tournament; you ought to take part in it! It will be great fun. We +shall all meet at the Karagins'! Please come! No! Really, eh?" said +he. + +While saying this he never removed his smiling eyes from her face, +her neck, and her bare arms. Natasha knew for certain that he was +enraptured by her. This pleased her, yet his presence made her feel +constrained and oppressed. When she was not looking at him she felt +that he was looking at her shoulders, and she involuntarily caught his +eye so that he should look into hers rather than this. But looking +into his eyes she was frightened, realizing that there was not that +barrier of modesty she had always felt between herself and other +men. She did not know how it was that within five minutes she had come +to feel herself terribly near to this man. When she turned away she +feared he might seize her from behind by her bare arm and kiss her +on the neck. They spoke of most ordinary things, yet she felt that +they were closer to one another than she had ever been to any man. +Natasha kept turning to Helene and to her father, as if asking what it +all meant, but Helene was engaged in conversation with a general and +did not answer her look, and her father's eyes said nothing but what +they always said: "Having a good time? Well, I'm glad of it!" + +During one of these moments of awkward silence when Anatole's +prominent eyes were gazing calmly and fixedly at her, Natasha, to +break the silence, asked him how he liked Moscow. She asked the +question and blushed. She felt all the time that by talking to him she +was doing something improper. Anatole smiled as though to encourage +her. + +"At first I did not like it much, because what makes a town pleasant +ce sont les jolies femmes,* isn't that so? But now I like it very much +indeed," he said, looking at her significantly. "You'll come to the +costume tournament, Countess? Do come!" and putting out his hand to +her bouquet and dropping his voice, he added, "You will be the +prettiest there. Do come, dear countess, and give me this flower as +a pledge!" + + +*Are the pretty women. + + +Natasha did not understand what he was saying any more than he did +himself, but she felt that his incomprehensible words had an +improper intention. She did not know what to say and turned away as if +she had not heard his remark. But as soon as she had turned away she +felt that he was there, behind, so close behind her. + +"How is he now? Confused? Angry? Ought I to put it right?" she asked +herself, and she could not refrain from turning round. She looked +straight into his eyes, and his nearness, self-assurance, and the +good-natured tenderness of his smile vanquished her. She smiled just +as he was doing, gazing straight into his eyes. And again she felt +with horror that no barrier lay between him and her. + +The curtain rose again. Anatole left the box, serene and gay. +Natasha went back to her father in the other box, now quite submissive +to the world she found herself in. All that was going on before her +now seemed quite natural, but on the other hand all her previous +thoughts of her betrothed, of Princess Mary, or of life in the country +did not once recur to her mind and were as if belonging to a remote +past. + +In the fourth act there was some sort of devil who sang waving his +arm about, till the boards were withdrawn from under him and he +disappeared down below. That was the only part of the fourth act +that Natasha saw. She felt agitated and tormented, and the cause of +this was Kuragin whom she could not help watching. As they were +leaving the theater Anatole came up to them, called their carriage, +and helped them in. As he was putting Natasha in he pressed her arm +above the elbow. Agitated and flushed she turned round. He was looking +at her with glittering eyes, smiling tenderly. + + +Only after she had reached home was Natasha able clearly to think +over what had happened to her, and suddenly remembering Prince +Andrew she was horrified, and at tea to which all had sat down after +the opera, she gave a loud exclamation, flushed, and ran out of the +room. + +"O God! I am lost!" she said to herself. "How could I let him?" +She sat for a long time hiding her flushed face in her hands trying to +realize what had happened to her, but was unable either to +understand what had happened or what she felt. Everything seemed dark, +obscure, and terrible. There in that enormous, illuminated theater +where the bare-legged Duport, in a tinsel-decorated jacket, jumped +about to the music on wet boards, and young girls and old men, and the +nearly naked Helene with her proud, calm smile, rapturously cried +"bravo!"--there in the presence of that Helene it had all seemed clear +and simple; but now, alone by herself, it was incomprehensible. +"What is it? What was that terror I felt of him? What is this +gnawing of conscience I am feeling now?" she thought. + +Only to the old countess at night in bed could Natasha have told all +she was feeling. She knew that Sonya with her severe and simple +views would either not understand it at all or would be horrified at +such a confession. So Natasha tried to solve what was torturing her by +herself. + +"Am I spoiled for Andrew's love or not?" she asked herself, and with +soothing irony replied: "What a fool I am to ask that! What did happen +to me? Nothing! I have done nothing, I didn't lead him on at all. +Nobody will know and I shall never see him again," she told herself. +"So it is plain that nothing has happened and there is nothing to +repent of, and Andrew can love me still. But why 'still?' O God, why +isn't he here?" Natasha quieted herself for a moment, but again some +instinct told her that though all this was true, and though nothing +had happened, yet the former purity of her love for Prince Andrew +had perished. And again in imagination she went over her whole +conversation with Kuragin, and again saw the face, gestures, and +tender smile of that bold handsome man when he pressed her arm. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Anatole Kuragin was staying in Moscow because his father had sent +him away from Petersburg, where he had been spending twenty thousand +rubles a year in cash, besides running up debts for as much more, +which his creditors demanded from his father. + +His father announced to him that he would now pay half his debts for +the last time, but only on condition that he went to Moscow as +adjutant to the commander in chief--a post his father had procured for +him--and would at last try to make a good match there. He indicated to +him Princess Mary and Julie Karagina. + +Anatole consented and went to Moscow, where he put up at Pierre's +house. Pierre received him unwillingly at first, but got used to him +after a while, sometimes even accompanied him on his carousals, and +gave him money under the guise of loans. + +As Shinshin had remarked, from the time of his arrival Anatole had +turned the heads of the Moscow ladies, especially by the fact that +he slighted them and plainly preferred the gypsy girls and French +actresses--with the chief of whom, Mademoiselle George, he was said to +be on intimate relations. He had never missed a carousal at +Danilov's or other Moscow revelers', drank whole nights through, +outvying everyone else, and was at all the balls and parties of the +best society. There was talk of his intrigues with some of the ladies, +and he flirted with a few of them at the balls. But he did not run +after the unmarried girls, especially the rich heiresses who were most +of them plain. There was a special reason for this, as he had got +married two years before--a fact known only to his most intimate +friends. At that time while with his regiment in Poland, a Polish +landowner of small means had forced him to marry his daughter. Anatole +had very soon abandoned his wife and, for a payment which he agreed to +send to his father-in-law, had arranged to be free to pass himself off +as a bachelor. + +Anatole was always content with his position, with himself, and with +others. He was instinctively and thoroughly convinced that it was +impossible for him to live otherwise than as he did and that he had +never in his life done anything base. He was incapable of +considering how his actions might affect others or what the +consequences of this or that action of his might be. He was +convinced that, as a duck is so made that it must live in water, so +God had made him such that he must spend thirty thousand rubles a year +and always occupy a prominent position in society. He believed this so +firmly that others, looking at him, were persuaded of it too and did +not refuse him either a leading place in society or money, which he +borrowed from anyone and everyone and evidently would not repay. + +He was not a gambler, at any rate he did not care about winning. +He was not vain. He did not mind what people thought of him. Still +less could he be accused of ambition. More than once he had vexed +his father by spoiling his own career, and he laughed at +distinctions of all kinds. He was not mean, and did not refuse +anyone who asked of him. All he cared about was gaiety and women, +and as according to his ideas there was nothing dishonorable in +these tastes, and he was incapable of considering what the +gratification of his tastes entailed for others, he honestly +considered himself irreproachable, sincerely despised rogues and bad +people, and with a tranquil conscience carried his head high. + +Rakes, those male Magdalenes, have a secret feeling of innocence +similar to that which female Magdalenes have, based on the same hope +of forgiveness. "All will be forgiven her, for she loved much; and all +will be forgiven him, for he enjoyed much." + +Dolokhov, who had reappeared that year in Moscow after his exile and +his Persian adventures, and was leading a life of luxury, gambling, +and dissipation, associated with his old Petersburg comrade Kuragin +and made use of him for his own ends. + +Anatole was sincerely fond of Dolokhov for his cleverness and +audacity. Dolokhov, who needed Anatole Kuragin's name, position, and +connections as a bait to draw rich young men into his gambling set, +made use of him and amused himself at his expense without letting +the other feel it. Apart from the advantage he derived from Anatole, +the very process of dominating another's will was in itself a +pleasure, a habit, and a necessity to Dolokhov. + +Natasha had made a strong impression on Kuragin. At supper after the +opera he described to Dolokhov with the air of a connoisseur the +attractions of her arms, shoulders, feet, and hair and expressed his +intention of making love to her. Anatole had no notion and was +incapable of considering what might come of such love-making, as he +never had any notion of the outcome of any of his actions. + +"She's first-rate, my dear fellow, but not for us," replied +Dolokhov. + +"I will tell my sister to ask her to dinner," said Anatole. "Eh?" + +"You'd better wait till she's married...." + +"You know, I adore little girls, they lose their heads at once," +pursued Anatole. + +"You have been caught once already by a 'little girl,'" said +Dolokhov who knew of Kuragin's marriage. "Take care!" + +"Well, that can't happen twice! Eh?" said Anatole, with a +good-humored laugh. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The day after the opera the Rostovs went nowhere and nobody came +to see them. Marya Dmitrievna talked to the count about something +which they concealed from Natasha. Natasha guessed they were talking +about the old prince and planning something, and this disquieted and +offended her. She was expecting Prince Andrew any moment and twice +that day sent a manservant to the Vozdvizhenka to ascertain whether he +had come. He had not arrived. She suffered more now than during her +first days in Moscow. To her impatience and pining for him were now +added the unpleasant recollection of her interview with Princess +Mary and the old prince, and a fear and anxiety of which she did not +understand the cause. She continually fancied that either he would +never come or that something would happen to her before he came. She +could no longer think of him by herself calmly and continuously as she +had done before. As soon as she began to think of him, the +recollection of the old prince, of Princess Mary, of the theater, +and of Kuragin mingled with her thoughts. The question again presented +itself whether she was not guilty, whether she had not already +broken faith with Prince Andrew, and again she found herself recalling +to the minutest detail every word, every gesture, and every shade in +the play of expression on the face of the man who had been able to +arouse in her such an incomprehensible and terrifying feeling. To +the family Natasha seemed livelier than usual, but she was far less +tranquil and happy than before. + +On Sunday morning Marya Dmitrievna invited her visitors to Mass at +her parish church--the Church of the Assumption built over the +graves of victims of the plague. + +"I don't like those fashionable churches," she said, evidently +priding herself on her independence of thought. "God is the same every +where. We have an excellent priest, he conducts the service decently +and with dignity, and the deacon is the same. What holiness is there +in giving concerts in the choir? I don't like it, it's just +self-indulgence!" + +Marya Dmitrievna liked Sundays and knew how to keep them. Her +whole house was scrubbed and cleaned on Saturdays; neither she nor the +servants worked, and they all wore holiday dress and went to church. +At her table there were extra dishes at dinner, and the servants had +vodka and roast goose or suckling pig. But in nothing in the house was +the holiday so noticeable as in Marya Dmitrievna's broad, stern +face, which on that day wore an invariable look of solemn festivity. + +After Mass, when they had finished their coffee in the dining room +where the loose covers had been removed from the furniture, a +servant announced that the carriage was ready, and Marya Dmitrievna +rose with a stern air. She wore her holiday shawl, in which she paid +calls, and announced that she was going to see Prince Nicholas +Bolkonski to have an explanation with him about Natasha. + +After she had gone, a dressmaker from Madame Suppert-Roguet waited on +the Rostovs, and Natasha, very glad of this diversion, having shut +herself into a room adjoining the drawing room, occupied herself +trying on the new dresses. Just as she had put on a bodice without +sleeves and only tacked together, and was turning her head to see in +the glass how the back fitted, she heard in the drawing room the +animated sounds of her father's voice and another's--a woman's--that +made her flush. It was Helene. Natasha had not time to take off the +bodice before the door opened and Countess Bezukhova, dressed in a +purple velvet gown with a high collar, came into the room beaming with +good-humored amiable smiles. + +"Oh, my enchantress!" she cried to the blushing Natasha. +"Charming! No, this is really beyond anything, my dear count," said +she to Count Rostov who had followed her in. "How can you live in +Moscow and go nowhere? No, I won't let you off! Mademoiselle George +will recite at my house tonight and there'll be some people, and if +you don't bring your lovely girls--who are prettier than +Mademoiselle George--I won't know you! My husband is away in Tver or I +would send him to fetch you. You must come. You positively must! +Between eight and nine." + +She nodded to the dressmaker, whom she knew and who had curtsied +respectfully to her, and seated herself in an armchair beside the +looking glass, draping the folds of her velvet dress picturesquely. +She did not cease chattering good-naturedly and gaily, continually +praising Natasha's beauty. She looked at Natasha's dresses and praised +them, as well as a new dress of her own made of "metallic gauze," +which she had received from Paris, and advised Natasha to have one +like it. + +"But anything suits you, my charmer!" she remarked. + +A smile of pleasure never left Natasha's face. She felt happy and as +if she were blossoming under the praise of this dear Countess +Bezukhova who had formerly seemed to her so unapproachable and +important and was now so kind to her. Natasha brightened up and felt +almost in love with this woman, who was so beautiful and so kind. +Helene for her part was sincerely delighted with Natasha and wished to +give her a good time. Anatole had asked her to bring him and Natasha +together, and she was calling on the Rostovs for that purpose. The +idea of throwing her brother and Natasha together amused her. + +Though at one time, in Petersburg, she had been annoyed with Natasha +for drawing Boris away, she did not think of that now, and in her +own way heartily wished Natasha well. As she was leaving the Rostovs +she called her protegee aside. + +"My brother dined with me yesterday--we nearly died of laughter--he +ate nothing and kept sighing for you, my charmer! He is madly, quite +madly, in love with you, my dear." + +Natasha blushed scarlet when she heard this. + +"How she blushes, how she blushes, my pretty!" said Helene. "You +must certainly come. If you love somebody, my charmer, that is not a +reason to shut yourself up. Even if you are engaged, I am sure your +fiance would wish you to go into society rather than be bored to +death." + +"So she knows I am engaged, and she and her husband Pierre--that +good Pierre--have talked and laughed about this. So it's all right." +And again, under Helene's influence, what had seemed terrible now +seemed simple and natural. "And she is such a grande dame, so kind, +and evidently likes me so much. And why not enjoy myself?" thought +Natasha, gazing at Helene with wide-open, wondering eyes. + +Marya Dmitrievna came back to dinner taciturn and serious, having +evidently suffered a defeat at the old prince's. She was still too +agitated by the encounter to be able to talk of the affair calmly. +In answer to the count's inquiries she replied that things were all +right and that she would tell about it next day. On hearing of +Countess Bezukhova's visit and the invitation for that evening, +Marya Dmitrievna remarked: + +"I don't care to have anything to do with Bezukhova and don't advise +you to; however, if you've promised--go. It will divert your +thoughts," she added, addressing Natasha. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Count Rostov took the girls to Countess Bezukhova's. There were a +good many people there, but nearly all strangers to Natasha. Count +Rostov was displeased to see that the company consisted almost +entirely of men and women known for the freedom of their conduct. +Mademoiselle George was standing in a corner of the drawing room +surrounded by young men. There were several Frenchmen present, among +them Metivier who from the time Helene reached Moscow had been an +intimate in her house. The count decided not to sit down to cards or +let his girls out of his sight and to get away as soon as Mademoiselle +George's performance was over. + +Anatole was at the door, evidently on the lookout for the Rostovs. +Immediately after greeting the count he went up to Natasha and +followed her. As soon as she saw him she was seized by the same +feeling she had had at the opera--gratified vanity at his admiration +of her and fear at the absence of a moral barrier between them. + +Helene welcomed Natasha delightedly and was loud in admiration of +her beauty and her dress. Soon after their arrival Mademoiselle George +went out of the room to change her costume. In the drawing room people +began arranging the chairs and taking their seats. Anatole moved a +chair for Natasha and was about to sit down beside her, but the count, +who never lost sight of her, took the seat himself. Anatole sat down +behind her. + +Mademoiselle George, with her bare, fat, dimpled arms, and a red +shawl draped over one shoulder, came into the space left vacant for +her, and assumed an unnatural pose. Enthusiastic whispering was +audible. + +Mademoiselle George looked sternly and gloomily at the audience +and began reciting some French verses describing her guilty love for +her son. In some places she raised her voice, in others she whispered, +lifting her head triumphantly; sometimes she paused and uttered hoarse +sounds, rolling her eyes. + +"Adorable! divine! delicious!" was heard from every side. + +Natasha looked at the fat actress, but neither saw nor heard nor +understood anything of what went on before her. She only felt herself +again completely borne away into this strange senseless world--so +remote from her old world--a world in which it was impossible to know +what was good or bad, reasonable or senseless. Behind her sat Anatole, +and conscious of his proximity she experienced a frightened sense of +expectancy. + +After the first monologue the whole company rose and surrounded +Mademoiselle George, expressing their enthusiasm. + +"How beautiful she is!" Natasha remarked to her father who had +also risen and was moving through the crowd toward the actress. + +"I don't think so when I look at you!" said Anatole, following +Natasha. He said this at a moment when she alone could hear him. +"You are enchanting... from the moment I saw you I have never +ceased..." + +"Come, come, Natasha!" said the count, as he turned back for his +daughter. "How beautiful she is!" Natasha without saying anything +stepped up to her father and looked at him with surprised inquiring +eyes. + +After giving several recitations, Mademoiselle George left, and +Countess Bezukhova asked her visitors into the ballroom. + +The count wished to go home, but Helene entreated him not to spoil +her improvised ball, and the Rostovs stayed on. Anatole asked +Natasha for a valse and as they danced he pressed her waist and hand +and told her she was bewitching and that he loved her. During the +ecossaise, which she also danced with him, Anatole said nothing when +they happened to be by themselves, but merely gazed at her. Natasha +lifted her frightened eyes to him, but there was such confident +tenderness in his affectionate look and smile that she could not, +whilst looking at him, say what she had to say. She lowered her eyes. + +"Don't say such things to me. I am betrothed and love another," +she said rapidly.... She glanced at him. + +Anatole was not upset or pained by what she had said. + +"Don't speak to me of that! What can I do?" said he. "I tell you I +am madly, madly, in love with you! Is it my fault that you are +enchanting?... It's our turn to begin." + +Natasha, animated and excited, looked about her with wide-open +frightened eyes and seemed merrier than usual. She understood hardly +anything that went on that evening. They danced the ecossaise and +the Grossvater. Her father asked her to come home, but she begged to +remain. Wherever she went and whomever she was speaking to, she felt +his eyes upon her. Later on she recalled how she had asked her +father to let her go to the dressing room to rearrange her dress, that +Helene had followed her and spoken laughingly of her brother's love, +and that she again met Anatole in the little sitting room. Helene +had disappeared leaving them alone, and Anatole had taken her hand and +said in a tender voice: + +"I cannot come to visit you but is it possible that I shall never +see you? I love you madly. Can I never...?" and, blocking her path, he +brought his face close to hers. + +His large, glittering, masculine eyes were so close to hers that she +saw nothing but them. + +"Natalie?" he whispered inquiringly while she felt her hands being +painfully pressed. "Natalie?" + +"I don't understand. I have nothing to say," her eyes replied. + +Burning lips were pressed to hers, and at the same instant she +felt herself released, and Helene's footsteps and the rustle of her +dress were heard in the room. Natasha looked round at her, and then, +red and trembling, threw a frightened look of inquiry at Anatole and +moved toward the door. + +"One word, just one, for God's sake!" cried Anatole. + +She paused. She so wanted a word from him that would explain to +her what had happened and to which she could find no answer. + +"Natalie, just a word, only one!" he kept repeating, evidently not +knowing what to say and he repeated it till Helene came up to them. + +Helene returned with Natasha to the drawing room. The Rostovs went +away without staying for supper. + +After reaching home Natasha did not sleep all night. She was +tormented by the insoluble question whether she loved Anatole or +Prince Andrew. She loved Prince Andrew--she remembered distinctly +how deeply she loved him. But she also loved Anatole, of that there +was no doubt. "Else how could all this have happened?" thought she. +"If, after that, I could return his smile when saying good-by, if I +was able to let it come to that, it means that I loved him from the +first. It means that he is kind, noble, and splendid, and I could +not help loving him. What am I to do if I love him and the other one +too?" she asked herself, unable to find an answer to these terrible +questions. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Morning came with its cares and bustle. Everyone got up and began to +move about and talk, dressmakers came again. Marya Dmitrievna +appeared, and they were called to breakfast. Natasha kept looking +uneasily at everybody with wide-open eyes, as if wishing to +intercept every glance directed toward her, and tried to appear the +same as usual. + +After breakfast, which was her best time, Marya Dmitrievna sat +down in her armchair and called Natasha and the count to her. + +"Well, friends, I have now thought the whole matter over and this is +my advice," she began. "Yesterday, as you know, I went to see Prince +Bolkonski. Well, I had a talk with him.... He took it into his head to +begin shouting, but I am not one to be shouted down. I said what I had +to say!" + +"Well, and he?" asked the count. + +"He? He's crazy... he did not want to listen. But what's the use +of talking? As it is we have worn the poor girl out," said Marya +Dmitrievna. "My advice to you is finish your business and go back home +to Otradnoe... and wait there." + +"Oh, no!" exclaimed Natasha. + +"Yes, go back," said Marya Dmitrievna, "and wait there. If your +betrothed comes here now--there will be no avoiding a quarrel; but +alone with the old man he will talk things over and then come on to +you." + +Count Rostov approved of this suggestion, appreciating its +reasonableness. If the old man came round it would be all the better +to visit him in Moscow or at Bald Hills later on; and if not, the +wedding, against his wishes, could only be arranged at Otradnoe. + +"That is perfectly true. And I am sorry I went to see him and took +her," said the old count. + +"No, why be sorry? Being here, you had to pay your respects. But +if he won't--that's his affair," said Marya Dmitrievna, looking for +something in her reticule. "Besides, the trousseau is ready, so +there is nothing to wait for; and what is not ready I'll send after +you. Though I don't like letting you go, it is the best way. So go, +with God's blessing!" + +Having found what she was looking for in the reticule she handed +it to Natasha. It was a letter from Princess Mary. + +"She has written to you. How she torments herself, poor thing! She's +afraid you might think that she does not like you." + +"But she doesn't like me," said Natasha. + +"Don't talk nonsense!" cried Marya Dmitrievna. + +"I shan't believe anyone, I know she doesn't like me," replied +Natasha boldly as she took the letter, and her face expressed a cold +and angry resolution that caused Marya Dmitrievna to look at her +more intently and to frown. + +"Don't answer like that, my good girl!" she said. "What I say is +true! Write an answer!" Natasha did not reply and went to her own room +to read Princess Mary's letter. + +Princess Mary wrote that she was in despair at the +misunderstanding that had occurred between them. Whatever her father's +feelings might be, she begged Natasha to believe that she could not +help loving her as the one chosen by her brother, for whose +happiness she was ready to sacrifice everything. + +"Do not think, however," she wrote, "that my father is +ill-disposed toward you. He is an invalid and an old man who must be +forgiven; but he is good and magnanimous and will love her who makes +his son happy." Princess Mary went on to ask Natasha to fix a time +when she could see her again. + +After reading the letter Natasha sat down at the writing table to +answer it. "Dear Princess," she wrote in French quickly and +mechanically, and then paused. What more could she write after all +that had happened the evening before? "Yes, yes! All that has +happened, and now all is changed," she thought as she sat with the +letter she had begun before her. "Must I break off with him? Must I +really? That's awful..." and to escape from these dreadful thoughts +she went to Sonya and began sorting patterns with her. + +After dinner Natasha went to her room and again took up Princess +Mary's letter. "Can it be that it is all over?" she thought. "Can it +be that all this has happened so quickly and has destroyed all that +went before?" She recalled her love for Prince Andrew in all its +former strength, and at the same time felt that she loved Kuragin. She +vividly pictured herself as Prince Andrew's wife, and the scenes of +happiness with him she had so often repeated in her imagination, and +at the same time, aglow with excitement, recalled every detail of +yesterday's interview with Anatole. + +"Why could that not be as well?" she sometimes asked herself in +complete bewilderment. "Only so could I be completely happy; but now I +have to choose, and I can't be happy without either of them. Only," +she thought, "to tell Prince Andrew what has happened or to hide it +from him are both equally impossible. But with that one nothing is +spoiled. But am I really to abandon forever the joy of Prince Andrew's +love, in which I have lived so long?" + +"Please, Miss!" whispered a maid entering the room with a mysterious +air. "A man told me to give you this-" and she handed Natasha a +letter. + +"Only, for Christ's sake..." the girl went on, as Natasha, without +thinking, mechanically broke the seal and read a love letter from +Anatole, of which, without taking in a word, she understood only +that it was a letter from him--from the man she loved. Yes, she +loved him, or else how could that have happened which had happened? +And how could she have a love letter from him in her hand? + +With trembling hands Natasha held that passionate love letter +which Dolokhov had composed for Anatole, and as she read it she +found in it an echo of all that she herself imagined she was feeling. + +"Since yesterday evening my fate has been sealed; to be loved by you +or to die. There is no other way for me," the letter began. Then he +went on to say that he knew her parents would not give her to him--for +this there were secret reasons he could reveal only to her--but that +if she loved him she need only say the word yes, and no human power +could hinder their bliss. Love would conquer all. He would steal her +away and carry her off to the ends of the earth. + +"Yes, yes! I love him!" thought Natasha, reading the letter for +the twentieth time and finding some peculiarly deep meaning in each +word of it. + +That evening Marya Dmitrievna was going to the Akharovs' and +proposed to take the girls with her. Natasha, pleading a headache, +remained at home. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +On returning late in the evening Sonya went to Natasha's room, and +to her surprise found her still dressed and asleep on the sofa. Open +on the table, beside her lay Anatole's letter. Sonya picked it up +and read it. + +As she read she glanced at the sleeping Natasha, trying to find in +her face an explanation of what she was reading, but did not find +it. Her face was calm, gentle, and happy. Clutching her breast to keep +herself from choking, Sonya, pale and trembling with fear and +agitation, sat down in an armchair and burst into tears. + +"How was it I noticed nothing? How could it go so far? Can she +have left off loving Prince Andrew? And how could she let Kuragin go +to such lengths? He is a deceiver and a villain, that's plain! What +will Nicholas, dear noble Nicholas, do when he hears of it? So this is +the meaning of her excited, resolute, unnatural look the day before +yesterday, yesterday, and today," thought Sonya. "But it can't be that +she loves him! She probably opened the letter without knowing who it +was from. Probably she is offended by it. She could not do such a +thing!" + +Sonya wiped away her tears and went up to Natasha, again scanning +her face. + +"Natasha!" she said, just audibly. + +Natasha awoke and saw Sonya. + +"Ah, you're back?" + +And with the decision and tenderness that often come at the moment +of awakening, she embraced her friend, but noticing Sonya's look of +embarrassment, her own face expressed confusion and suspicion. + +"Sonya, you've read that letter?" she demanded. + +"Yes," answered Sonya softly. + +Natasha smiled rapturously. + +"No, Sonya, I can't any longer!" she said. "I can't hide it from you +any longer. You know, we love one another! Sonya, darling, he +writes... Sonya..." + +Sonya stared open-eyed at Natasha, unable to believe her ears. + +"And Bolkonski?" she asked. + +"Ah, Sonya, if you only knew how happy I am!" cried Natasha. "You +don't know what love is...." + +"But, Natasha, can that be all over?" + +Natasha looked at Sonya with wide-open eyes as if she could not +grasp the question. + +"Well, then, are you refusing Prince Andrew?" said Sonya. + +"Oh, you don't understand anything! Don't talk nonsense, just +listen!" said Natasha, with momentary vexation. + +"But I can't believe it," insisted Sonya. "I don't understand. How +is it you have loved a man for a whole year and suddenly... Why, you +have only seen him three times! Natasha, I don't believe you, you're +joking! In three days to forget everything and so..." + +"Three days?" said Natasha. "It seems to me I've loved him a hundred +years. It seems to me that I have never loved anyone before. You can't +understand it.... Sonya, wait a bit, sit here," and Natasha embraced +and kissed her. + +"I had heard that it happens like this, and you must have heard it +too, but it's only now that I feel such love. It's not the same as +before. As soon as I saw him I felt he was my master and I his +slave, and that I could not help loving him. Yes, his slave! +Whatever he orders I shall do. You don't understand that. What can I +do? What can I do, Sonya?" cried Natasha with a happy yet frightened +expression. + +"But think what you are doing," cried Sonya. "I can't leave it +like this. This secret correspondence... How could you let him go so +far?" she went on, with a horror and disgust she could hardly conceal. + +"I told you that I have no will," Natasha replied. "Why can't you +understand? I love him!" + +"Then I won't let it come to that... I shall tell!" cried Sonya, +bursting into tears. + +"What do you mean? For God's sake... If you tell, you are my enemy!" +declared Natasha. "You want me to be miserable, you want us to be +separated...." + +When she saw Natasha's fright, Sonya shed tears of shame and pity +for her friend. + +"But what has happened between you?" she asked. "What has he said to +you? Why doesn't he come to the house?" + +Natasha did not answer her questions. + +"For God's sake, Sonya, don't tell anyone, don't torture me," +Natasha entreated. "Remember no one ought to interfere in such +matters! I have confided in you...." + +"But why this secrecy? Why doesn't he come to the house?" asked +Sonya. "Why doesn't he openly ask for your hand? You know Prince +Andrew gave you complete freedom--if it is really so; but I don't +believe it! Natasha, have you considered what these secret reasons can +be?" + +Natasha looked at Sonya with astonishment. Evidently this question +presented itself to her mind for the first time and she did not know +how to answer it. + +"I don't know what the reasons are. But there must be reasons!" + +Sonya sighed and shook her head incredulously. + +"If there were reasons..." she began. + +But Natasha, guessing her doubts, interrupted her in alarm. + +"Sonya, one can't doubt him! One can't, one can't! Don't you +understand?" she cried. + +"Does he love you?" + +"Does he love me?" Natasha repeated with a smile of pity at her +friend's lack of comprehension. "Why, you have read his letter and you +have seen him." + +"But if he is dishonorable?" + +"He! dishonorable? If you only knew!" exclaimed Natasha. + +"If he is an honorable man he should either declare his intentions +or cease seeing you; and if you won't do this, I will. I will write to +him, and I will tell Papa!" said Sonya resolutely. + +"But I can't live without him!" cried Natasha. + +"Natasha, I don't understand you. And what are you saying! Think +of your father and of Nicholas." + +"I don't want anyone, I don't love anyone but him. How dare you +say he is dishonorable? Don't you know that I love him?" screamed +Natasha. "Go away, Sonya! I don't want to quarrel with you, but go, +for God's sake go! You see how I am suffering!" Natasha cried angrily, +in a voice of despair and repressed irritation. Sonya burst into +sobs and ran from the room. + +Natasha went to the table and without a moment's reflection wrote +that answer to Princess Mary which she had been unable to write all +the morning. In this letter she said briefly that all their +misunderstandings were at an end; that availing herself of the +magnanimity of Prince Andrew who when he went abroad had given her her +freedom, she begged Princess Mary to forget everything and forgive her +if she had been to blame toward her, but that she could not be his wife. +At that moment this all seemed quite easy, simple, and clear to Natasha. + + +On Friday the Rostovs were to return to the country, but on +Wednesday the count went with the prospective purchaser to his +estate near Moscow. + +On the day the count left, Sonya and Natasha were invited to a big +dinner party at the Karagins', and Marya Dmitrievna took them there. +At that party Natasha again met Anatole, and Sonya noticed that she +spoke to him, trying not to be overheard, and that all through +dinner she was more agitated than ever. When they got home Natasha was +the first to begin the explanation Sonya expected. + +"There, Sonya, you were talking all sorts of nonsense about him," +Natasha began in a mild voice such as children use when they wish to +be praised. "We have had an explanation today." + +"Well, what happened? What did he say? Natasha, how glad I am you're +not angry with me! Tell me everything--the whole truth. What did he +say?" + +Natasha became thoughtful. + +"Oh, Sonya, if you knew him as I do! He said... He asked me what I +had promised Bolkonski. He was glad I was free to refuse him." + +Sonya sighed sorrowfully. + +"But you haven't refused Bolkonski?" said she. + +"Perhaps I have. Perhaps all is over between me and Bolkonski. Why +do you think so badly of me?" + +"I don't think anything, only I don't understand this..." + +"Wait a bit, Sonya, you'll understand everything. You'll see what +a man he is! Now don't think badly of me or of him. I don't think +badly of anyone: I love and pity everybody. But what am I to do?" + +Sonya did not succumb to the tender tone Natasha used toward her. +The more emotional and ingratiating the expression of Natasha's face +became, the more serious and stern grew Sonya's. + +"Natasha," said she, "you asked me not to speak to you, and I +haven't spoken, but now you yourself have begun. I don't trust him, +Natasha. Why this secrecy?" + +"Again, again!" interrupted Natasha. + +"Natasha, I am afraid for you!" + +"Afraid of what?" + +"I am afraid you're going to your ruin," said Sonya resolutely, +and was herself horrified at what she had said. + +Anger again showed in Natasha's face. + +"And I'll go to my ruin, I will, as soon as possible! It's not +your business! It won't be you, but I, who'll suffer. Leave me +alone, leave me alone! I hate you!" + +"Natasha!" moaned Sonya, aghast. + +"I hate you, I hate you! You're my enemy forever!" And Natasha ran +out of the room. + +Natasha did not speak to Sonya again and avoided her. With the +same expression of agitated surprise and guilt she went about the +house, taking up now one occupation, now another, and at once +abandoning them. + +Hard as it was for Sonya, she watched her friend and did not let her +out of her sight. + +The day before the count was to return, Sonya noticed that Natasha +sat by the drawingroom window all the morning as if expecting +something and that she made a sign to an officer who drove past, +whom Sonya took to be Anatole. + +Sonya began watching her friend still more attentively and noticed +that at dinner and all that evening Natasha was in a strange and +unnatural state. She answered questions at random, began sentences she +did not finish, and laughed at everything. + +After tea Sonya noticed a housemaid at Natasha's door timidly +waiting to let her pass. She let the girl go in, and then listening at +the door learned that another letter had been delivered. + +Then suddenly it became clear to Sonya that Natasha had some +dreadful plan for that evening. Sonya knocked at her door. Natasha did +not let her in. + +"She will run away with him!" thought Sonya. "She is capable of +anything. There was something particularly pathetic and resolute in +her face today. She cried as she said good-by to Uncle," Sonya +remembered. "Yes, that's it, she means to elope with him, but what +am I to do?" thought she, recalling all the signs that clearly +indicated that Natasha had some terrible intention. "The count is +away. What am I to do? Write to Kuragin demanding an explanation? +But what is there to oblige him to reply? Write to Pierre, as Prince +Andrew asked me to in case of some misfortune?... But perhaps she +really has already refused Bolkonski--she sent a letter to Princess +Mary yesterday. And Uncle is away...." To tell Marya Dmitrievna who +had such faith in Natasha seemed to Sonya terrible. "Well, anyway," +thought Sonya as she stood in the dark passage, "now or never I must +prove that I remember the family's goodness to me and that I love +Nicholas. Yes! If I don't sleep for three nights I'll not leave this +passage and will hold her back by force and will and not let the +family be disgraced," thought she. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Anatole had lately moved to Dolokhov's. The plan for Natalie +Rostova's abduction had been arranged and the preparations made by +Dolokhov a few days before, and on the day that Sonya, after listening +at Natasha's door, resolved to safeguard her, it was to have been +put into execution. Natasha had promised to come out to Kuragin at the +back porch at ten that evening. Kuragin was to put her into a troyka +he would have ready and to drive her forty miles to the village of +Kamenka, where an unfrocked priest was in readiness to perform a +marriage ceremony over them. At Kamenka a relay of horses was to +wait which would take them to the Warsaw highroad, and from there they +would hasten abroad with post horses. + +Anatole had a passport, an order for post horses, ten thousand +rubles he had taken from his sister and another ten thousand +borrowed with Dolokhov's help. + +Two witnesses for the mock marriage--Khvostikov, a retired petty +official whom Dolokhov made use of in his gambling transactions, and +Makarin, a retired hussar, a kindly, weak fellow who had an +unbounded affection for Kuragin--were sitting at tea in Dolokhov's +front room. + +In his large study, the walls of which were hung to the ceiling with +Persian rugs, bearskins, and weapons, sat Dolokhov in a traveling +cloak and high boots, at an open desk on which lay abacus and some +bundles of paper money. Anatole, with uniform unbuttoned, walked to +and fro from the room where the witnesses were sitting, through the +study to the room behind, where his French valet and others were +packing the last of his things. Dolokhov was counting the money and +noting something down. + +"Well," he said, "Khvostikov must have two thousand." + +"Give it to him, then," said Anatole. + +"Makarka" (their name for Makarin) "will go through fire and water +for you for nothing. So here are our accounts all settled," said +Dolokhov, showing him the memorandum. "Is that right?" + +"Yes, of course," returned Anatole, evidently not listening to +Dolokhov and looking straight before him with a smile that did not +leave his face. + +Dolokhov banged down the lid of his desk and turned to Anatole with an +ironic smile: + +"Do you know? You'd really better drop it all. There's still time!" + +"Fool," retorted Anatole. "Don't talk nonsense! If you only +knew... it's the devil knows what!" + +"No, really, give it up!" said Dolokhov. "I am speaking seriously. +It's no joke, this plot you've hatched." + +"What, teasing again? Go to the devil! Eh?" said Anatole, making a +grimace. "Really it's no time for your stupid jokes," and he left +the room. + +Dolokhov smiled contemptuously and condescendingly when Anatole +had gone out. + +"You wait a bit," he called after him. "I'm not joking, I'm +talking sense. Come here, come here!" + +Anatole returned and looked at Dolokhov, trying to give him his +attention and evidently submitting to him involuntarily. + +"Now listen to me. I'm telling you this for the last time. Why +should I joke about it? Did I hinder you? Who arranged everything +for you? Who found the priest and got the passport? Who raised the +money? I did it all." + +"Well, thank you for it. Do you think I am not grateful?" And +Anatole sighed and embraced Dolokhov. + +"I helped you, but all the same I must tell you the truth; it is a +dangerous business, and if you think about it--a stupid business. +Well, you'll carry her off--all right! Will they let it stop at +that? It will come out that you're already married. Why, they'll +have you in the criminal court...." + +"Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" Anatole ejaculated and again made a +grimace. "Didn't I explain to you? What?" And Anatole, with the +partiality dull-witted people have for any conclusion they have +reached by their own reasoning, repeated the argument he had already +put to Dolokhov a hundred times. "Didn't I explain to you that I +have come to this conclusion: if this marriage is invalid," he went +on, crooking one finger, "then I have nothing to answer for; but if it +is valid, no matter! Abroad no one will know anything about it. +Isn't that so? And don't talk to me, don't, don't." + +"Seriously, you'd better drop it! You'll only get yourself into a +mess!" + +"Go to the devil!" cried Anatole and, clutching his hair, left the +room, but returned at once and dropped into an armchair in front of +Dolokhov with his feet turned under him. "It's the very devil! What? +Feel how it beats!" He took Dolokhov's hand and put it on his heart. +"What a foot, my dear fellow! What a glance! A goddess!" he added in +French. "What?" + +Dolokhov with a cold smile and a gleam in his handsome insolent eyes +looked at him--evidently wishing to get some more amusement out of +him. + +"Well and when the money's gone, what then?" + +"What then? Eh?" repeated Anatole, sincerely perplexed by a +thought of the future. "What then?... Then, I don't know.... But why +talk nonsense!" He glanced at his watch. "It's time!" + +Anatole went into the back room. + +"Now then! Nearly ready? You're dawdling!" he shouted to the +servants. + +Dolokhov put away the money, called a footman whom he ordered to +bring something for them to eat and drink before the journey, and went +into the room where Khvostikov and Makarin were sitting. + +Anatole lay on the sofa in the study leaning on his elbow and +smiling pensively, while his handsome lips muttered tenderly to +himself. + +"Come and eat something. Have a drink!" Dolokhov shouted to him from +the other room. + +"I don't want to," answered Anatole continuing to smile. + +"Come! Balaga is here." + +Anatole rose and went into the dining room. Balaga was a famous +troyka driver who had known Dolokhov and Anatole some six years and +had given them good service with his troykas. More than once when +Anatole's regiment was stationed at Tver he had taken him from Tver in +the evening, brought him to Moscow by daybreak, and driven him back +again the next night. More than once he had enabled Dolokhov to escape +when pursued. More than once he had driven them through the town +with gypsies and "ladykins" as he called the cocottes. More than +once in their service he had run over pedestrians and upset vehicles +in the streets of Moscow and had always been protected from the +consequences by "my gentlemen" as he called them. He had ruined more +than one horse in their service. More than once they had beaten him, +and more than once they had made him drunk on champagne and Madeira, +which he loved; and he knew more than one thing about each of them +which would long ago have sent an ordinary man to Siberia. They +often called Balaga into their orgies and made him drink and dance +at the gypsies', and more than one thousand rubles of their money +had passed through his hands. In their service he risked his skin +and his life twenty times a year, and in their service had lost more +horses than the money he had from them would buy. But he liked them; +liked that mad driving at twelve miles an hour, liked upsetting a +driver or running down a pedestrian, and flying at full gallop through +the Moscow streets. He liked to hear those wild, tipsy shouts behind +him: "Get on! Get on!" when it was impossible to go any faster. He +liked giving a painful lash on the neck to some peasant who, more dead +than alive, was already hurrying out of his way. "Real gentlemen!" +he considered them. + +Anatole and Dolokhov liked Balaga too for his masterly driving and +because he liked the things they liked. With others Balaga +bargained, charging twenty-five rubles for a two hours' drive, and +rarely drove himself, generally letting his young men do so. But +with "his gentlemen" he always drove himself and never demanded +anything for his work. Only a couple of times a year--when he knew +from their valets that they had money in hand--he would turn up of a +morning quite sober and with a deep bow would ask them to help him. +The gentlemen always made him sit down. + +"Do help me out, Theodore Ivanych, sir," or "your excellency," he +would say. "I am quite out of horses. Let me have what you can to go +to the fair." + +And Anatole and Dolokhov, when they had money, would give him a +thousand or a couple of thousand rubles. + +Balaga was a fair-haired, short, and snub-nosed peasant of about +twenty-seven; red-faced, with a particularly red thick neck, +glittering little eyes, and a small beard. He wore a fine, +dark-blue, silk-lined cloth coat over a sheepskin. + +On entering the room now he crossed himself, turning toward the +front corner of the room, and went up to Dolokhov, holding out a +small, black hand. + +"Theodore Ivanych!" he said, bowing. + +"How d'you do, friend? Well, here he is!" + +"Good day, your excellency!" he said, again holding out his hand +to Anatole who had just come in. + +"I say, Balaga," said Anatole, putting his hands on the man's +shoulders, "do you care for me or not? Eh? Now, do me a service.... +What horses have you come with? Eh?" + +"As your messenger ordered, your special beasts," replied Balaga. + +"Well, listen, Balaga! Drive all three to death but get me there +in three hours. Eh?" + +"When they are dead, what shall I drive?" said Balaga with a wink. + +"Mind, I'll smash your face in! Don't make jokes!" cried Anatole, +suddenly rolling his eyes. + +"Why joke?" said the driver, laughing. "As if I'd grudge my +gentlemen anything! As fast as ever the horses can gallop, so fast +we'll go!" + +"Ah!" said Anatole. "Well, sit down." + +"Yes, sit down!" said Dolokhov. + +"I'll stand, Theodore Ivanych." + +"Sit down; nonsense! Have a drink!" said Anatole, and filled a large +glass of Madeira for him. + +The driver's eyes sparkled at the sight of the wine. After +refusing it for manners' sake, he drank it and wiped his mouth with +a red silk handkerchief he took out of his cap. + +"And when are we to start, your excellency?" + +"Well..." Anatole looked at his watch. "We'll start at once. Mind, +Balaga! You'll get there in time? Eh?" + +"That depends on our luck in starting, else why shouldn't we be +there in time?" replied Balaga. "Didn't we get you to Tver in seven +hours? I think you remember that, your excellency?" + +"Do you know, one Christmas I drove from Tver," said Anatole, +smilingly at the recollection and turning to Makarin who gazed +rapturously at him with wide-open eyes. "Will you believe it, Makarka, +it took one's breath away, the rate we flew. We came across a train of +loaded sleighs and drove right over two of them. Eh?" + +"Those were horses!" Balaga continued the tale. "That time I'd +harnessed two young side horses with the bay in the shafts," he went +on, turning to Dolokhov. "Will you believe it, Theodore Ivanych, those +animals flew forty miles? I couldn't hold them in, my hands grew +numb in the sharp frost so that I threw down the reins--'Catch hold +yourself, your excellency!' says I, and I just tumbled on the bottom +of the sleigh and sprawled there. It wasn't a case of urging them +on, there was no holding them in till we reached the place. The devils +took us there in three hours! Only the near one died of it." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Anatole went out of the room and returned a few minutes later +wearing a fur coat girt with a silver belt, and a sable cap jauntily +set on one side and very becoming to his handsome face. Having +looked in a mirror, and standing before Dolokhov in the same pose he +had assumed before it, he lifted a glass of wine. + +"Well, good-by, Theodore. Thank you for everything and farewell!" +said Anatole. "Well, comrades and friends..." he considered for a +moment "...of my youth, farewell!" he said, turning to Makarin and the +others. + +Though they were all going with him, Anatole evidently wished to +make something touching and solemn out of this address to his +comrades. He spoke slowly in a loud voice and throwing out his chest +slightly swayed one leg. + +"All take glasses; you too, Balaga. Well, comrades and friends of my +youth, we've had our fling and lived and reveled. Eh? And now, when +shall we meet again? I am going abroad. We have had a good time--now +farewell, lads! To our health! Hurrah!..." he cried, and emptying +his glass flung it on the floor. + +"To your health!" said Balaga who also emptied his glass, and +wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. + +Makarin embraced Anatole with tears in his eyes. + +"Ah, Prince, how sorry I am to part from you! + +"Let's go. Let's go!" cried Anatole. + +Balaga was about to leave the room. + +"No, stop!" said Anatole. "Shut the door; we have first to sit down. +That's the way." + +They shut the door and all sat down. + +"Now, quick march, lads!" said Anatole, rising. + +Joseph, his valet, handed him his sabretache and saber, and they all +went out into the vestibule. + +"And where's the fur cloak?" asked Dolokhov. "Hey, Ignatka! Go to +Matrena Matrevna and ask her for the sable cloak. I have heard what +elopements are like," continued Dolokhov with a wink. "Why, she'll +rush out more dead than alive just in the things she is wearing; if +you delay at all there'll be tears and 'Papa' and 'Mamma,' and she's +frozen in a minute and must go back--but you wrap the fur cloak +round her first thing and carry her to the sleigh." + +The valet brought a woman's fox-lined cloak. + +"Fool, I told you the sable one! Hey, Matrena, the sable!" he +shouted so that his voice rang far through the rooms. + +A handsome, slim, and pale-faced gypsy girl with glittering black +eyes and curly blue-black hair, wearing a red shawl, ran out with a +sable mantle on her arm. + +"Here, I don't grudge it--take it!" she said, evidently afraid of +her master and yet regretful of her cloak. + +Dolokhov, without answering, took the cloak, threw it over +Matrena, and wrapped her up in it. + +"That's the way," said Dolokhov, "and then so!" and he turned the +collar up round her head, leaving only a little of the face uncovered. +"And then so, do you see?" and he pushed Anatole's head forward to +meet the gap left by the collar, through which Matrena's brilliant +smile was seen. + +"Well, good-by, Matrena," said Anatole, kissing her. "Ah, my +revels here are over. Remember me to Steshka. There, good-by! Good-by, +Matrena, wish me luck!" + +"Well, Prince, may God give you great luck!" said Matrena in her +gypsy accent. + +Two troykas were standing before the porch and two young drivers +were holding the horses. Balaga took his seat in the front one and +holding his elbows high arranged the reins deliberately. Anatole and +Dolokhov got in with him. Makarin, Khvostikov, and a valet seated +themselves in the other sleigh. + +"Well, are you ready?" asked Balaga. + +"Go!" he cried, twisting the reins round his hands, and the troyka +tore down the Nikitski Boulevard. + +"Tproo! Get out of the way! Hi!... Tproo!..." The shouting of Balaga +and of the sturdy young fellow seated on the box was all that could be +heard. On the Arbat Square the troyka caught against a carriage; +something cracked, shouts were heard, and the troyka flew along the +Arbat Street. + +After taking a turn along the Podnovinski Boulevard, Balaga began to +rein in, and turning back drew up at the crossing of the old +Konyusheny Street. + +The young fellow on the box jumped down to hold the horses and +Anatole and Dolokhov went along the pavement. When they reached the +gate Dolokhov whistled. The whistle was answered, and a maidservant +ran out. + +"Come into the courtyard or you'll be seen; she'll come out +directly," said she. + +Dolokhov stayed by the gate. Anatole followed the maid into the +courtyard, turned the corner, and ran up into the porch. + +He was met by Gabriel, Marya Dmitrievna's gigantic footman. + +"Come to the mistress, please," said the footman in his deep bass, +intercepting any retreat. + +"To what Mistress? Who are you?" asked Anatole in a breathless +whisper. + +"Kindly step in, my orders are to bring you in." + +"Kuragin! Come back!" shouted Dolokhov. "Betrayed! Back!" + +Dolokhov, after Anatole entered, had remained at the wicket gate and +was struggling with the yard porter who was trying to lock it. With +a last desperate effort Dolokhov pushed the porter aside, and when +Anatole ran back seized him by the arm, pulled him through the wicket, +and ran back with him to the troyka. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Marya Dmitrievna, having found Sonya weeping in the corridor, made +her confess everything, and intercepting the note to Natasha she +read it and went into Natasha's room with it in her hand. + +"You shameless good-for-nothing!" said she. "I won't hear a word." + +Pushing back Natasha who looked at her with astonished but +tearless eyes, she locked her in; and having given orders to the +yard porter to admit the persons who would be coming that evening, but +not to let them out again, and having told the footman to bring them +up to her, she seated herself in the drawing room to await the +abductors. + +When Gabriel came to inform her that the men who had come had run +away again, she rose frowning, and clasping her hands behind her paced +through the rooms a long time considering what she should do. Toward +midnight she went to Natasha's room fingering the key in her pocket. +Sonya was sitting sobbing in the corridor. "Marya Dmitrievna, for +God's sake let me in to her!" she pleaded, but Marya Dmitrievna +unlocked the door and went in without giving her an answer.... +"Disgusting, abominable... In my house... horrid girl, hussy! I'm only +sorry for her father!" thought she, trying to restrain her wrath. +"Hard as it may be, I'll tell them all to hold their tongues and +will hide it from the count." She entered the room with resolute +steps. Natasha lying on the sofa, her head hidden in her hands, and +she did not stir. She was in just the same position in which Marya +Dmitrievna had left her. + +"A nice girl! Very nice!" said Marya Dmitrievna. "Arranging meetings +with lovers in my house! It's no use pretending: you listen when I +speak to you!" And Marya Dmitrievna touched her arm. "Listen when I +speak! You've disgraced yourself like the lowest of hussies. I'd treat +you differently, but I'm sorry for your father, so I will conceal it." + +Natasha did not change her position, but her whole body heaved +with noiseless, convulsive sobs which choked her. Marya Dmitrievna +glanced round at Sonya and seated herself on the sofa beside Natasha. + +"It's lucky for him that he escaped me; but I'll find him!" she said +in her rough voice. "Do you hear what I am saying or not?" she added. + +She put her large hand under Natasha's face and turned it toward +her. Both Marya Dmitrievna and Sonya were amazed when they saw how +Natasha looked. Her eyes were dry and glistening, her lips compressed, +her cheeks sunken. + +"Let me be!... What is it to me?... I shall die!" she muttered, +wrenching herself from Marya Dmitrievna's hands with a vicious +effort and sinking down again into her former position. + +"Natalie!" said Marya Dmitrievna. "I wish for your good. Lie +still, stay like that then, I won't touch you. But listen. I won't +tell you how guilty you are. You know that yourself. But when your +father comes back tomorrow what am I to tell him? Eh?" + +Again Natasha's body shook with sobs. + +"Suppose he finds out, and your brother, and your betrothed?" + +"I have no betrothed: I have refused him!" cried Natasha. + +"That's all the same," continued Marya Dmitrievna. "If they hear of +this, will they let it pass? He, your father, I know him... if he +challenges him to a duel will that be all right? Eh?" + +"Oh, let me be! Why have you interfered at all? Why? Why? Who +asked you to?" shouted Natasha, raising herself on the sofa and +looking malignantly at Marya Dmitrievna. + +"But what did you want?" cried Marya Dmitrievna, growing angry +again. "Were you kept under lock and key? Who hindered his coming to +the house? Why carry you off as if you were some gypsy singing +girl?... Well, if he had carried you off... do you think they wouldn't +have found him? Your father, or brother, or your betrothed? And he's a +scoundrel, a wretch--that's a fact!" + +"He is better than any of you!" exclaimed Natasha getting up. "If +you hadn't interfered... Oh, my God! What is it all? What is it? +Sonya, why?... Go away!" + +And she burst into sobs with the despairing vehemence with which +people bewail disasters they feel they have themselves occasioned. +Marya Dmitrievna was to speak again but Natasha cried out: + +"Go away! Go away! You all hate and despise me!" and she threw +herself back on the sofa. + +Marya Dmitrievna went on admonishing her for some time, enjoining on +her that it must all be kept from her father and assuring her that +nobody would know anything about it if only Natasha herself would +undertake to forget it all and not let anyone see that something had +happened. Natasha did not reply, nor did she sob any longer, but she +grew cold and had a shivering fit. Marya Dmitrievna put a pillow under +her head, covered her with two quilts, and herself brought her some +lime-flower water, but Natasha did not respond to her. + +"Well, let her sleep," said Marya Dmitrievna as she went out of the +room supposing Natasha to be asleep. + +But Natasha was not asleep; with pale face and fixed wide-open +eyes she looked straight before her. All that night she did not +sleep or weep and did not speak to Sonya who got up and went to her +several times. + +Next day Count Rostov returned from his estate near Moscow in time +for lunch as he had promised. He was in very good spirits; the +affair with the purchaser was going on satisfactorily, and there was +nothing to keep him any longer in Moscow, away from the countess +whom he missed. Marya Dmitrievna met him and told him that Natasha had +been very unwell the day before and that they had sent for the doctor, +but that she was better now. Natasha had not left her room that +morning. With compressed and parched lips and dry fixed eyes, she +sat at the window, uneasily watching the people who drove past and +hurriedly glancing round at anyone who entered the room. She was +evidently expecting news of him and that he would come or would +write to her. + +When the count came to see her she turned anxiously round at the +sound of a man's footstep, and then her face resumed its cold and +malevolent expression. She did not even get up to greet him. "What +is the matter with you, my angel? Are you ill?" asked the count. + +After a moment's silence Natasha answered: "Yes, ill." + +In reply to the count's anxious inquiries as to why she was so +dejected and whether anything had happened to her betrothed, she +assured him that nothing had happened and asked him not to worry. +Marya Dmitrievna confirmed Natasha's assurances that nothing had +happened. From the pretense of illness, from his daughter's +distress, and by the embarrassed faces of Sonya and Marya +Dmitrievna, the count saw clearly that something had gone wrong during +his absence, but it was so terrible for him to think that anything +disgraceful had happened to his beloved daughter, and he so prized his +own cheerful tranquillity, that he avoided inquiries and tried to +assure himself that nothing particularly had happened; and he was only +dissatisfied that her indisposition delayed their return to the +country. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +From the day his wife arrived in Moscow Pierre had been intending to +go away somewhere, so as not to be near her. Soon after the Rostovs +came to Moscow the effect Natasha had on him made him hasten to +carry out his intention. He went to Tver to see Joseph Alexeevich's +widow, who had long since promised to hand over to him some papers +of her deceased husband's. + +When he returned to Moscow Pierre was handed a letter from Marya +Dmitrievna asking him to come and see her on a matter of great +importance relating to Andrew Bolkonski and his betrothed. Pierre +had been avoiding Natasha because it seemed to him that his feeling +for her was stronger than a married man's should be for his friend's +fiancee. Yet some fate constantly threw them together. + +"What can have happened? And what can they want with me?" thought he +as he dressed to go to Marya Dmitrievna's. "If only Prince Andrew +would hurry up and come and marry her!" thought he on his way to the +house. + +On the Tverskoy Boulevard a familiar voice called to him. + +"Pierre! Been back long?" someone shouted. Pierre raised his head. +In a sleigh drawn by two gray trotting-horses that were bespattering +the dashboard with snow, Anatole and his constant companion Makarin +dashed past. Anatole was sitting upright in the classic pose of +military dandies, the lower part of his face hidden by his beaver +collar and his head slightly bent. His face was fresh and rosy, his +white-plumed hat, tilted to one side, disclosed his curled and pomaded +hair besprinkled with powdery snow. + +"Yes, indeed, that's a true sage," thought Pierre. "He sees +nothing beyond the pleasure of the moment, nothing troubles him and so +he is always cheerful, satisfied, and serene. What wouldn't I give +to be like him!" he thought enviously. + +In Marya Dmitrievna's anteroom the footman who helped him off with +his fur coat said that the mistress asked him to come to her bedroom. + +When he opened the ballroom door Pierre saw Natasha sitting at the +window, with a thin, pale, and spiteful face. She glanced round at +him, frowned, and left the room with an expression of cold dignity. + +"What has happened?" asked Pierre, entering Marya Dmitrievna's room. + +"Fine doings!" answered Dmitrievna. "For fifty-eight years have I +lived in this world and never known anything so disgraceful!" + +And having put him on his honor not to repeat anything she told him, +Marya Dmitrievna informed him that Natasha had refused Prince Andrew +without her parents' knowledge and that the cause of this was +Anatole Kuragin into whose society Pierre's wife had thrown her and +with whom Natasha had tried to elope during her father's absence, in +order to be married secretly. + +Pierre raised his shoulders and listened open-mouthed to what was +told him, scarcely able to believe his own ears. That Prince +Andrew's deeply loved affianced wife--the same Natasha Rostova who +used to be so charming--should give up Bolkonski for that fool Anatole +who was already secretly married (as Pierre knew), and should be so in +love with him as to agree to run away with him, was something Pierre +could not conceive and could not imagine. + +He could not reconcile the charming impression he had of Natasha, +whom he had known from a child, with this new conception of her +baseness, folly, and cruelty. He thought of his wife. "They are all +alike!" he said to himself, reflecting that he was not the only man +unfortunate enough to be tied to a bad woman. But still he pitied +Prince Andrew to the point of tears and sympathized with his wounded +pride, and the more he pitied his friend the more did he think with +contempt and even with disgust of that Natasha who had just passed him +in the ballroom with such a look of cold dignity. He did not know that +Natasha's soul was overflowing with despair, shame, and humiliation, +and that it was not her fault that her face happened to assume an +expression of calm dignity and severity. + +"But how get married?" said Pierre, in answer to Marya Dmitrievna. +"He could not marry--he is married!" + +"Things get worse from hour to hour!" ejaculated Marya Dmitrievna. +"A nice youth! What a scoundrel! And she's expecting him--expecting +him since yesterday. She must be told! Then at least she won't go on +expecting him." + +After hearing the details of Anatole's marriage from Pierre, and +giving vent to her anger against Anatole in words of abuse, Marya +Dmitrievna told Pierre why she had sent for him. She was afraid that +the count or Bolkonski, who might arrive at any moment, if they knew +of this affair (which she hoped to hide from them) might challenge +Anatole to a duel, and she therefore asked Pierre to tell his +brother-in-law in her name to leave Moscow and not dare to let her set +eyes on him again. Pierre--only now realizing the danger to the old +count, Nicholas, and Prince Andrew--promised to do as she wished. +Having briefly and exactly explained her wishes to him, she let him go +to the drawing room. + +"Mind, the count knows nothing. Behave as if you know nothing +either," she said. "And I will go and tell her it is no use +expecting him! And stay to dinner if you care to!" she called after +Pierre. + +Pierre met the old count, who seemed nervous and upset. That morning +Natasha had told him that she had rejected Bolkonski. + +"Troubles, troubles, my dear fellow!" he said to Pierre. "What +troubles one has with these girls without their mother! I do so regret +having come here.... I will be frank with you. Have you heard she +has broken off her engagement without consulting anybody? It's true +this engagement never was much to my liking. Of course he is an +excellent man, but still, with his father's disapproval they +wouldn't have been happy, and Natasha won't lack suitors. Still, it +has been going on so long, and to take such a step without father's or +mother's consent! And now she's ill, and God knows what! It's hard, +Count, hard to manage daughters in their mother's absence...." + +Pierre saw that the count was much upset and tried to change the +subject, but the count returned to his troubles. + +Sonya entered the room with an agitated face. + +"Natasha is not quite well; she's in her room and would like to +see you. Marya Dmitrievna is with her and she too asks you to come." + +"Yes, you are a great friend of Bolkonski's, no doubt she wants to +send him a message," said the count. "Oh dear! Oh dear! How happy it +all was!" + +And clutching the spare gray locks on his temples the count left the +room. + +When Marya Dmitrievna told Natasha that Anatole was married, Natasha +did not wish to believe it and insisted on having it confirmed by +Pierre himself. Sonya told Pierre this as she led him along the +corridor to Natasha's room. + +Natasha, pale and stern, was sitting beside Marya Dmitrievna, and +her eyes, glittering feverishly, met Pierre with a questioning look +the moment he entered. She did not smile or nod, but only gazed +fixedly at him, and her look asked only one thing: was he a friend, or +like the others an enemy in regard to Anatole? As for Pierre, he +evidently did not exist for her. + +"He knows all about it," said Marya Dmitrievna pointing to Pierre +and addressing Natasha. "Let him tell you whether I have told the +truth." + +Natasha looked from one to the other as a hunted and wounded +animal looks at the approaching dogs and sportsmen. + +"Natalya Ilynichna," Pierre began, dropping his eyes with a +feeling of pity for her and loathing for the thing he had to do, +"whether it is true or not should make no difference to you, +because..." + +"Then it is not true that he's married!" + +"Yes, it is true." + +"Has he been married long?" she asked. "On your honor?..." + +Pierre gave his word of honor. + +"Is he still here?" she asked, quickly. + +"Yes, I have just seen him." + +She was evidently unable to speak and made a sign with her hands +that they should leave her alone. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Pierre did not stay for dinner, but left the room and went away at +once. He drove through the town seeking Anatole Kuragin, at the +thought of whom now the blood rushed to his heart and he felt a +difficulty in breathing. He was not at the ice hills, nor at the +gypsies', nor at Komoneno's. Pierre drove to the Club. In the Club all +was going on as usual. The members who were assembling for dinner were +sitting about in groups; they greeted Pierre and spoke of the town +news. The footman having greeted him, knowing his habits and his +acquaintances, told him there was a place left for him in the small +dining room and that Prince Michael Zakharych was in the library, +but Paul Timofeevich had not yet arrived. One of Pierre's +acquaintances, while they were talking about the weather, asked if +he had heard of Kuragin's abduction of Rostova which was talked of +in the town, and was it true? Pierre laughed and said it was +nonsense for he had just come from the Rostovs'. He asked everyone +about Anatole. One man told him he had not come yet, and another +that he was coming to dinner. Pierre felt it strange to see this calm, +indifferent crowd of people unaware of what was going on in his +soul. He paced through the ballroom, waited till everyone had come, +and as Anatole had not turned up did not stay for dinner but drove +home. + +Anatole, for whom Pierre was looking, dined that day with +Dolokhov, consulting him as to how to remedy this unfortunate +affair. It seemed to him essential to see Natasha. In the evening he +drove to his sister's to discuss with her how to arrange a meeting. +When Pierre returned home after vainly hunting all over Moscow, his +valet informed him that Prince Anatole was with the countess. The +countess' drawing room was full of guests. + +Pierre without greeting his wife whom he had not seen since his +return--at that moment she was more repulsive to him than +ever--entered the drawing room and seeing Anatole went up to him. + +"Ah, Pierre," said the countess going up to her husband. "You +don't know what a plight our Anatole..." + +She stopped, seeing in the forward thrust of her husband's head, +in his glowing eyes and his resolute gait, the terrible indications of +that rage and strength which she knew and had herself experienced +after his duel with Dolokhov. + +"Where you are, there is vice and evil!" said Pierre to his wife. +"Anatole, come with me! I must speak to you," he added in French. + +Anatole glanced round at his sister and rose submissively, ready +to follow Pierre. Pierre, taking him by the arm, pulled him toward +himself and was leading him from the room. + +"If you allow yourself in my drawing room..." whispered Helene, +but Pierre did not reply and went out of the room. + +Anatole followed him with his usual jaunty step but his face +betrayed anxiety. + +Having entered his study Pierre closed the door and addressed +Anatole without looking at him. + +"You promised Countess Rostova to marry her and were about to +elope with her, is that so?" + +"Mon cher," answered Anatole (their whole conversation was in +French), "I don't consider myself bound to answer questions put to +me in that tone." + +Pierre's face, already pale, became distorted by fury. He seized +Anatole by the collar of his uniform with his big hand and shook him +from side to side till Anatole's face showed a sufficient degree of +terror. + +"When I tell you that I must talk to you!..." repeated Pierre. + +"Come now, this is stupid. What?" said Anatole, fingering a button +of his collar that had been wrenched loose with a bit of the cloth. + +"You're a scoundrel and a blackguard, and I don't know what deprives +me from the pleasure of smashing your head with this!" said Pierre, +expressing himself so artificially because he was talking French. + +He took a heavy paperweight and lifted it threateningly, but at once +put it back in its place. + +"Did you promise to marry her?" + +"I... I didn't think of it. I never promised, because..." + +Pierre interrupted him. + +"Have you any letters of hers? Any letters?" he said, moving +toward Anatole. + +Anatole glanced at him and immediately thrust his hand into his +pocket and drew out his pocketbook. + +Pierre took the letter Anatole handed him and, pushing aside a table +that stood in his way, threw himself on the sofa. + +"I shan't be violent, don't be afraid!" said Pierre in answer to a +frightened gesture of Anatole's. "First, the letters," said he, as +if repeating a lesson to himself. "Secondly," he continued after a +short pause, again rising and again pacing the room, "tomorrow you +must get out of Moscow." + +"But how can I?..." + +"Thirdly," Pierre continued without listening to him, "you must +never breathe a word of what has passed between you and Countess +Rostova. I know I can't prevent your doing so, but if you have a spark +of conscience..." Pierre paced the room several times in silence. + +Anatole sat at a table frowning and biting his lips. + +"After all, you must understand that besides your pleasure there +is such a thing as other people's happiness and peace, and that you +are ruining a whole life for the sake of amusing yourself! Amuse +yourself with women like my wife--with them you are within your +rights, for they know what you want of them. They are armed against +you by the same experience of debauchery; but to promise a maid to +marry her... to deceive, to kidnap.... Don't you understand that it is +as mean as beating an old man or a child?..." + +Pierre paused and looked at Anatole no longer with an angry but with +a questioning look. + +"I don't know about that, eh?" said Anatole, growing more +confident as Pierre mastered his wrath. "I don't know that and don't +want to," he said, not looking at Pierre and with a slight tremor of +his lower jaw, "but you have used such words to me--'mean' and so +on--which as a man of honor I can't allow anyone to use." + +Pierre glanced at him with amazement, unable to understand what he +wanted. + +"Though it was tete-a-tete," Anatole continued, "still I can't..." + +"Is it satisfaction you want?" said Pierre ironically. + +"You could at least take back your words. What? If you want me to do +as you wish, eh?" + +"I take them back, I take them back!" said Pierre, "and I ask you to +forgive me." Pierre involuntarily glanced at the loose button. "And if +you require money for your journey..." + +Anatole smiled. The expression of that base and cringing smile, +which Pierre knew so well in his wife, revolted him. + +"Oh, vile and heartless brood!" he exclaimed, and left the room. + +Next day Anatole left for Petersburg. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Pierre drove to Marya Dmitrievna's to tell her of the fulfillment of +her wish that Kuragin should be banished from Moscow. The whole +house was in a state of alarm and commotion. Natasha was very ill, +having, as Marya Dmitrievna told him in secret, poisoned herself the +night after she had been told that Anatole was married, with some +arsenic she had stealthily procured. After swallowing a little she had +been so frightened that she woke Sonya and told her what she had done. +The necessary antidotes had been administered in time and she was +now out of danger, though still so weak that it was out of the +question to move her to the country, and so the countess had been sent +for. Pierre saw the distracted count, and Sonya, who had a +tear-stained face, but he could not see Natasha. + +Pierre dined at the club that day and heard on all sides gossip +about the attempted abduction of Rostova. He resolutely denied these +rumors, assuring everyone that nothing had happened except that his +brother-in-law had proposed to her and been refused. It seemed to +Pierre that it was his duty to conceal the whole affair and +re-establish Natasha's reputation. + +He was awaiting Prince Andrew's return with dread and went every day +to the old prince's for news of him. + +Old Prince Bolkonski heard all the rumors current in the town from +Mademoiselle Bourienne and had read the note to Princess Mary in which +Natasha had broken off her engagement. He seemed in better spirits +than usual and awaited his son with great impatience. + +Some days after Anatole's departure Pierre received a note from +Prince Andrew, informing him of his arrival and asking him to come +to see him. + +As soon as he reached Moscow, Prince Andrew had received from his +father Natasha's note to Princess Mary breaking off her engagement +(Mademoiselle Bourienne had purloined it from Princess Mary and +given it to the old prince), and he heard from him the story of +Natasha's elopement, with additions. + +Prince Andrew had arrived in the evening and Pierre came to see +him next morning. Pierre expected to find Prince Andrew in almost +the same state as Natasha and was therefore surprised on entering +the drawing room to hear him in the study talking in a loud animated +voice about some intrigue going on in Petersburg. The old prince's +voice and another now and then interrupted him. Princess Mary came out +to meet Pierre. She sighed, looking toward the door of the room +where Prince Andrew was, evidently intending to express her sympathy +with his sorrow, but Pierre saw by her face that she was glad both +at what had happened and at the way her brother had taken the news +of Natasha's faithlessness. + +"He says he expected it," she remarked. "I know his pride will not +let him express his feelings, but still he has taken it better, far +better, than I expected. Evidently it had to be...." + +"But is it possible that all is really ended?" asked Pierre. + +Princess Mary looked at him with astonishment. She did not +understand how he could ask such a question. Pierre went into the +study. Prince Andrew, greatly changed and plainly in better health, +but with a fresh horizontal wrinkle between his brows, stood in +civilian dress facing his father and Prince Meshcherski, warmly +disputing and vigorously gesticulating. The conversation was about +Speranski--the news of whose sudden exile and alleged treachery had +just reached Moscow. + +"Now he is censured and accused by all who were enthusiastic about +him a month ago," Prince Andrew was saying, "and by those who were +unable to understand his aims. To judge a man who is in disfavor and +to throw on him all the blame of other men's mistakes is very easy, +but I maintain that if anything good has been accomplished in this +reign it was done by him, by him alone." + +He paused at the sight of Pierre. His face quivered and +immediately assumed a vindictive expression. + +"Posterity will do him justice," he concluded, and at once turned to +Pierre. + +"Well, how are you? Still getting stouter?" he said with +animation, but the new wrinkle on his forehead deepened. "Yes, I am +well," he said in answer to Pierre's question, and smiled. + +To Pierre that smile said plainly: "I am well, but my health is +now of no use to anyone." + +After a few words to Pierre about the awful roads from the Polish +frontier, about people he had met in Switzerland who knew Pierre, +and about M. Dessalles, whom he had brought from abroad to be his +son's tutor, Prince Andrew again joined warmly in the conversation +about Speranski which was still going on between the two old men. + +"If there were treason, or proofs of secret relations with Napoleon, +they would have been made public," he said with warmth and haste. "I +do not, and never did, like Speranski personally, but I like justice!" + +Pierre now recognized in his friend a need with which he was only +too familiar, to get excited and to have arguments about extraneous +matters in order to stifle thoughts that were too oppressive and too +intimate. When Prince Meshcherski had left, Prince Andrew took +Pierre's arm and asked him into the room that had been assigned him. A +bed had been made up there, and some open portmanteaus and trunks +stood about. Prince Andrew went to one and took out a small casket, +from which he drew a packet wrapped in paper. He did it all silently +and very quickly. He stood up and coughed. His face was gloomy and his +lips compressed. + +"Forgive me for troubling you..." + +Pierre saw that Prince Andrew was going to speak of Natasha, and his +broad face expressed pity and sympathy. This expression irritated +Prince Andrew, and in a determined, ringing, and unpleasant tone he +continued: + +"I have received a refusal from Countess Rostova and have heard +reports of your brother-in-law having sought her hand, or something of +that kind. Is that true?" + +"Both true and untrue," Pierre began; but Prince Andrew +interrupted him. + +"Here are her letters and her portrait," said he. + +He took the packet from the table and handed it to Pierre. + +"Give this to the countess... if you see her." + +"She is very ill," said Pierre. + +"Then she is here still?" said Prince Andrew. "And Prince +Kuragin?" he added quickly. + +"He left long ago. She has been at death's door." + +"I much regret her illness," said Prince Andrew; and he smiled +like his father, coldly, maliciously, and unpleasantly. + +"So Monsieur Kuragin has not honored Countess Rostova with his +hand?" said Prince Andrew, and he snorted several times. + +"He could not marry, for he was married already," said Pierre. + +Prince Andrew laughed disagreeably, again reminding one of his +father. + +"And where is your brother-in-law now, if I may ask?" he said. + +"He has gone to Peters... But I don't know," said Pierre. + +"Well, it doesn't matter," said Prince Andrew. "Tell Countess +Rostova that she was and is perfectly free and that I wish her all +that is good." + +Pierre took the packet. Prince Andrew, as if trying to remember +whether he had something more to say, or waiting to see if Pierre +would say anything, looked fixedly at him. + +"I say, do you remember our discussion in Petersburg?" asked Pierre, +"about..." + +"Yes," returned Prince Andrew hastily. "I said that a fallen woman +should be forgiven, but I didn't say I could forgive her. I can't." + +"But can this be compared...?" said Pierre. + +Prince Andrew interrupted him and cried sharply: "Yes, ask her +hand again, be magnanimous, and so on?... Yes, that would be very +noble, but I am unable to follow in that gentleman's footsteps. If you +wish to be my friend never speak to me of that... of all that! Well, +good-by. So you'll give her the packet?" + +Pierre left the room and went to the old prince and Princess Mary. + +The old man seemed livelier than usual. Princess Mary was the same +as always, but beneath her sympathy for her brother, Pierre noticed +her satisfaction that the engagement had been broken off. Looking at +them Pierre realized what contempt and animosity they all felt for the +Rostovs, and that it was impossible in their presence even to +mention the name of her who could give up Prince Andrew for anyone +else. + +At dinner the talk turned on the war, the approach of which was +becoming evident. Prince Andrew talked incessantly, arguing now with +his father, now with the Swiss tutor Dessalles, and showing an +unnatural animation, the cause of which Pierre so well understood. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +That same evening Pierre went to the Rostovs' to fulfill the +commission entrusted to him. Natasha was in bed, the count at the +Club, and Pierre, after giving the letters to Sonya, went to Marya +Dmitrievna who was interested to know how Prince Andrew had taken +the news. Ten minutes later Sonya came to Marya Dmitrievna. + +"Natasha insists on seeing Count Peter Kirilovich," said she. + +"But how? Are we to take him up to her? The room there has not +been tidied up." + +"No, she has dressed and gone into the drawing room," said Sonya. + +Marya Dmitrievna only shrugged her shoulders. + +"When will her mother come? She has worried me to death! Now mind, +don't tell her everything!" said she to Pierre. "One hasn't the +heart to scold her, she is so much to be pitied, so much to be +pitied." + +Natasha was standing in the middle of the drawing room, emaciated, +with a pale set face, but not at all shamefaced as Pierre expected +to find her. When he appeared at the door she grew flurried, evidently +undecided whether to go to meet him or to wait till he came up. + +Pierre hastened to her. He thought she would give him her hand as +usual; but she, stepping up to him, stopped, breathing heavily, her +arms hanging lifelessly just in the pose she used to stand in when she +went to the middle of the ballroom to sing, but with quite a different +expression of face. + +"Peter Kirilovich," she began rapidly, "Prince Bolkonski was your +friend--is your friend," she corrected herself. (It seemed to her that +everything that had once been must now be different.) "He told me once +to apply to you..." + +Pierre sniffed as he looked at her, but did not speak. Till then +he had reproached her in his heart and tried to despise her, but he +now felt so sorry for her that there was no room in his soul for +reproach. + +"He is here now: tell him... to for... forgive me!" She stopped +and breathed still more quickly, but did not shed tears. + +"Yes... I will tell him," answered Pierre; "but..." + +He did not know what to say. + +Natasha was evidently dismayed at the thought of what he might think +she had meant. + +"No, I know all is over," she said hurriedly. "No, that can never +be. I'm only tormented by the wrong I have done him. Tell him only +that I beg him to forgive, forgive, forgive me for everything...." + +She trembled all over and sat down on a chair. + +A sense of pity he had never before known overflowed Pierre's heart. + +"I will tell him, I will tell him everything once more," said +Pierre. "But... I should like to know one thing...." + +"Know what?" Natasha's eyes asked. + +"I should like to know, did you love..." Pierre did not know how +to refer to Anatole and flushed at the thought of him--"did you love +that bad man?" + +"Don't call him bad!" said Natasha. "But I don't know, don't know at +all...." + +She began to cry and a still greater sense of pity, tenderness, +and love welled up in Pierre. He felt the tears trickle under his +spectacles and hoped they would not be noticed. + +"We won't speak of it any more, my dear," said Pierre, and his +gentle, cordial tone suddenly seemed very strange to Natasha. + +"We won't speak of it, my dear--I'll tell him everything; but one +thing I beg of you, consider me your friend and if you want help, +advice, or simply to open your heart to someone--not now, but when +your mind is clearer think of me!" He took her hand and kissed it. +"I shall be happy if it's in my power..." + +Pierre grew confused. + +"Don't speak to me like that. I am not worth it!" exclaimed +Natasha and turned to leave the room, but Pierre held her hand. + +He knew he had something more to say to her. But when he said it +he was amazed at his own words. + +"Stop, stop! You have your whole life before you," said he to her. + +"Before me? No! All is over for me," she replied with shame and +self-abasement. + + "All over?" he repeated. "If I were not myself, but the handsomest, +cleverest, and best man in the world, and were free, I would this +moment ask on my knees for your hand and your love!" + +For the first time for many days Natasha wept tears of gratitude and +tenderness, and glancing at Pierre she went out of the room. + +Pierre too when she had gone almost ran into the anteroom, +restraining tears of tenderness and joy that choked him, and without +finding the sleeves of his fur cloak threw it on and got into his +sleigh. + +"Where to now, your excellency?" asked the coachman. + +"Where to?" Pierre asked himself. "Where can I go now? Surely not to +the Club or to pay calls?" All men seemed so pitiful, so poor, in +comparison with this feeling of tenderness and love he experienced: in +comparison with that softened, grateful, last look she had given him +through her tears. + +"Home!" said Pierre, and despite twenty-two degrees of frost +Fahrenheit he threw open the bearskin cloak from his broad chest and +inhaled the air with joy. + +It was clear and frosty. Above the dirty, ill-lit streets, above the +black roofs, stretched the dark starry sky. Only looking up at the sky +did Pierre cease to feel how sordid and humiliating were all mundane +things compared with the heights to which his soul had just been +raised. At the entrance to the Arbat Square an immense expanse of dark +starry sky presented itself to his eyes. Almost in the center of it, +above the Prechistenka Boulevard, surrounded and sprinkled on all +sides by stars but distinguished from them all by its nearness to the +earth, its white light, and its long uplifted tail, shone the enormous +and brilliant comet of 1812--the comet which was said to portend all +kinds of woes and the end of the world. In Pierre, however, that comet +with its long luminous tail aroused no feeling of fear. On the +contrary he gazed joyfully, his eyes moist with tears, at this bright +comet which, having traveled in its orbit with inconceivable velocity +through immeasurable space, seemed suddenly--like an arrow piercing +the earth--to remain fixed in a chosen spot, vigorously holding its +tail erect, shining and displaying its white light amid countless +other scintillating stars. It seemed to Pierre that this comet fully +responded to what was passing in his own softened and uplifted soul, +now blossoming into a new life. + + + + + +BOOK NINE: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +From the close of the year 1811 intensified arming and concentrating +of the forces of Western Europe began, and in 1812 these +forces--millions of men, reckoning those transporting and feeding the +army--moved from the west eastwards to the Russian frontier, toward +which since 1811 Russian forces had been similarly drawn. On the +twelfth of June, 1812, the forces of Western Europe crossed the +Russian frontier and war began, that is, an event took place opposed +to human reason and to human nature. Millions of men perpetrated +against one another such innumerable crimes, frauds, treacheries, +thefts, forgeries, issues of false money, burglaries, incendiarisms, +and murders as in whole centuries are not recorded in the annals of +all the law courts of the world, but which those who committed them +did not at the time regard as being crimes. + +What produced this extraordinary occurrence? What were its causes? +The historians tell us with naive assurance that its causes were the +wrongs inflicted on the Duke of Oldenburg, the nonobservance of the +Continental System, the ambition of Napoleon, the firmness of +Alexander, the mistakes of the diplomatists, and so on. + +Consequently, it would only have been necessary for Metternich, +Rumyantsev, or Talleyrand, between a levee and an evening party, to +have taken proper pains and written a more adroit note, or for +Napoleon to have written to Alexander: "My respected Brother, I +consent to restore the duchy to the Duke of Oldenburg"--and there +would have been no war. + +We can understand that the matter seemed like that to +contemporaries. It naturally seemed to Napoleon that the war was +caused by England's intrigues (as in fact he said on the island of St. +Helena). It naturally seemed to members of the English Parliament that +the cause of the war was Napoleon's ambition; to the Duke of +Oldenburg, that the cause of the war was the violence done to him; +to businessmen that the cause of the war was the Continental System +which was ruining Europe; to the generals and old soldiers that the +chief reason for the war was the necessity of giving them +employment; to the legitimists of that day that it was the need of +re-establishing les bons principes, and to the diplomatists of that +time that it all resulted from the fact that the alliance between +Russia and Austria in 1809 had not been sufficiently well concealed +from Napoleon, and from the awkward wording of Memorandum No. 178. +It is natural that these and a countless and infinite quantity of +other reasons, the number depending on the endless diversity of points +of view, presented themselves to the men of that day; but to us, to +posterity who view the thing that happened in all its magnitude and +perceive its plain and terrible meaning, these causes seem +insufficient. To us it is incomprehensible that millions of +Christian men killed and tortured each other either because Napoleon +was ambitious or Alexander was firm, or because England's policy was +astute or the Duke of Oldenburg wronged. We cannot grasp what +connection such circumstances have with the actual fact of slaughter +and violence: why because the Duke was wronged, thousands of men +from the other side of Europe killed and ruined the people of Smolensk +and Moscow and were killed by them. + +To us, their descendants, who are not historians and are not carried +away by the process of research and can therefore regard the event +with unclouded common sense, an incalculable number of causes +present themselves. The deeper we delve in search of these causes +the more of them we find; and each separate cause or whole series of +causes appears to us equally valid in itself and equally false by +its insignificance compared to the magnitude of the events, and by its +impotence--apart from the cooperation of all the other coincident +causes--to occasion the event. To us, the wish or objection of this or +that French corporal to serve a second term appears as much a cause as +Napoleon's refusal to withdraw his troops beyond the Vistula and to +restore the duchy of Oldenburg; for had he not wished to serve, and +had a second, a third, and a thousandth corporal and private also +refused, there would have been so many less men in Napoleon's army and +the war could not have occurred. + +Had Napoleon not taken offense at the demand that he should withdraw +beyond the Vistula, and not ordered his troops to advance, there would +have been no war; but had all his sergeants objected to serving a +second term then also there could have been no war. Nor could there +have been a war had there been no English intrigues and no Duke of +Oldenburg, and had Alexander not felt insulted, and had there not been +an autocratic government in Russia, or a Revolution in France and a +subsequent dictatorship and Empire, or all the things that produced +the French Revolution, and so on. Without each of these causes nothing +could have happened. So all these causes--myriads of causes--coincided +to bring it about. And so there was no one cause for that +occurrence, but it had to occur because it had to. Millions of men, +renouncing their human feelings and reason, had to go from west to +east to slay their fellows, just as some centuries previously hordes +of men had come from the east to the west, slaying their fellows. + +The actions of Napoleon and Alexander, on whose words the event seemed +to hang, were as little voluntary as the actions of any soldier who +was drawn into the campaign by lot or by conscription. This could not +be otherwise, for in order that the will of Napoleon and Alexander (on +whom the event seemed to depend) should be carried out, the +concurrence of innumerable circumstances was needed without any one of +which the event could not have taken place. It was necessary that +millions of men in whose hands lay the real power--the soldiers who +fired, or transported provisions and guns--should consent to carry out +the will of these weak individuals, and should have been induced to do +so by an infinite number of diverse and complex causes. + +We are forced to fall back on fatalism as an explanation of +irrational events (that is to say, events the reasonableness of +which we do not understand). The more we try to explain such events in +history reasonably, the more unreasonable and incomprehensible do they +become to us. + +Each man lives for himself, using his freedom to attain his personal +aims, and feels with his whole being that he can now do or abstain +from doing this or that action; but as soon as he has done it, that +action performed at a certain moment in time becomes irrevocable and +belongs to history, in which it has not a free but a predestined +significance. + +There are two sides to the life of every man, his individual life, +which is the more free the more abstract its interests, and his +elemental hive life in which he inevitably obeys laws laid down for +him. + +Man lives consciously for himself, but is an unconscious +instrument in the attainment of the historic, universal, aims of +humanity. A deed done is irrevocable, and its result coinciding in +time with the actions of millions of other men assumes an historic +significance. The higher a man stands on the social ladder, the more +people he is connected with and the more power he has over others, the +more evident is the predestination and inevitability of his every +action. + +"The king's heart is in the hands of the Lord." + +A king is history's slave. + +History, that is, the unconscious, general, hive life of mankind, +uses every moment of the life of kings as a tool for its own purposes. + +Though Napoleon at that time, in 1812, was more convinced than ever +that it depended on him, verser (ou ne pas verser) le sang de ses +peuples*--as Alexander expressed it in the last letter he wrote +him--he had never been so much in the grip of inevitable laws, which +compelled him, while thinking that he was acting on his own volition, +to perform for the hive life--that is to say, for history--whatever +had to be performed. + + +*"To shed (or not to shed) the blood of his peoples." + + +The people of the west moved eastwards to slay their fellow men, and +by the law of coincidence thousands of minute causes fitted in and +co-ordinated to produce that movement and war: reproaches for the +nonobservance of the Continental System, the Duke of Oldenburg's +wrongs, the movement of troops into Prussia--undertaken (as it +seemed to Napoleon) only for the purpose of securing an armed peace, +the French Emperor's love and habit of war coinciding with his +people's inclinations, allurement by the grandeur of the preparations, +and the expenditure on those preparations and the need of obtaining +advantages to compensate for that expenditure, the intoxicating honors +he received in Dresden, the diplomatic negotiations which, in the +opinion of contemporaries, were carried on with a sincere desire to +attain peace, but which only wounded the self-love of both sides, +and millions of other causes that adapted themselves to +the event that was happening or coincided with it. + +When an apple has ripened and falls, why does it fall? Because of +its attraction to the earth, because its stalk withers, because it +is dried by the sun, because it grows heavier, because the wind shakes +it, or because the boy standing below wants to eat it? + +Nothing is the cause. All this is only the coincidence of conditions +in which all vital organic and elemental events occur. And the +botanist who finds that the apple falls because the cellular tissue +decays and so forth is equally right with the child who stands under +the tree and says the apple fell because he wanted to eat it and +prayed for it. Equally right or wrong is he who says that Napoleon +went to Moscow because he wanted to, and perished because Alexander +desired his destruction, and he who says that an undermined hill +weighing a million tons fell because the last navvy struck it for +the last time with his mattock. In historic events the so-called great +men are labels giving names to events, and like labels they have but +the smallest connection with the event itself. + +Every act of theirs, which appears to them an act of their own will, +is in an historical sense involuntary and is related to the whole +course of history and predestined from eternity. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +On the twenty-ninth of May Napoleon left Dresden, where he had spent +three weeks surrounded by a court that included princes, dukes, kings, +and even an emperor. Before leaving, Napoleon showed favor to the +emperor, kings, and princes who had deserved it, reprimanded the kings +and princes with whom he was dissatisfied, presented pearls and +diamonds of his own--that is, which he had taken from other kings--to +the Empress of Austria, and having, as his historian tells us, +tenderly embraced the Empress Marie Louise--who regarded him as her +husband, though he had left another wife in Paris--left her grieved by +the parting which she seemed hardly able to bear. Though the +diplomatists still firmly believed in the possibility of peace and +worked zealously to that end, and though the Emperor Napoleon himself +wrote a letter to Alexander, calling him Monsieur mon frere, and +sincerely assured him that he did not want war and would always love +and honor him--yet he set off to join his army, and at every station +gave fresh orders to accelerate the movement of his troops from west +to east. He went in a traveling coach with six horses, surrounded by +pages, aides-de-camp, and an escort, along the road to Posen, Thorn, +Danzig, and Konigsberg. At each of these towns thousands of people met +him with excitement and enthusiasm. + +The army was moving from west to east, and relays of six horses +carried him in the same direction. On the tenth of June,* coming up +with the army, he spent the night in apartments prepared for him on +the estate of a Polish count in the Vilkavisski forest. + + +*Old style. + + +Next day, overtaking the army, he went in a carriage to the +Niemen, and, changing into a Polish uniform, he drove to the riverbank +in order to select a place for the crossing. + +Seeing, on the other side, some Cossacks (les Cosaques) and the +wide-spreading steppes in the midst of which lay the holy city of +Moscow (Moscou, la ville sainte), the capital of a realm such as the +Scythia into which Alexander the Great had marched--Napoleon +unexpectedly, and contrary alike to strategic and diplomatic +considerations, ordered an advance, and the next day his army began to +cross the Niemen. + +Early in the morning of the twelfth of June he came out of his tent, +which was pitched that day on the steep left bank of the Niemen, and +looked through a spyglass at the streams of his troops pouring out +of the Vilkavisski forest and flowing over the three bridges thrown +across the river. The troops, knowing of the Emperor's presence, +were on the lookout for him, and when they caught sight of a figure in +an overcoat and a cocked hat standing apart from his suite in front of +his tent on the hill, they threw up their caps and shouted: "Vive +l'Empereur!" and one after another poured in a ceaseless stream out of +the vast forest that had concealed them and, separating, flowed on and +on by the three bridges to the other side. + +"Now we'll go into action. Oh, when he takes it in hand himself, +things get hot... by heaven!... There he is!... Vive l'Empereur! So +these are the steppes of Asia! It's a nasty country all the same. Au +revoir, Beauche; I'll keep the best palace in Moscow for you! Au +revoir. Good luck!... Did you see the Emperor? Vive l'Empereur!... +preur!--If they make me Governor of India, Gerard, I'll make you +Minister of Kashmir--that's settled. Vive l'Empereur! Hurrah! +hurrah! hurrah! The Cossacks--those rascals--see how they run! Vive +l'Empereur! There he is, do you see him? I've seen him twice, as I see +you now. The little corporal... I saw him give the cross to one of the +veterans.... Vive l'Empereur!" came the voices of men, old and +young, of most diverse characters and social positions. On the faces +of all was one common expression of joy at the commencement of the +long-expected campaign and of rapture and devotion to the man in the +gray coat who was standing on the hill. + +On the thirteenth of June a rather small, thoroughbred Arab horse +was brought to Napoleon. He mounted it and rode at a gallop to one +of the bridges over the Niemen, deafened continually by incessant +and rapturous acclamations which he evidently endured only because +it was impossible to forbid the soldiers to express their love of +him by such shouting, but the shouting which accompanied him +everywhere disturbed him and distracted him from the military cares +that had occupied him from the time he joined the army. He rode across +one of the swaying pontoon bridges to the farther side, turned sharply +to the left, and galloped in the direction of Kovno, preceded by +enraptured, mounted chasseurs of the Guard who, breathless with +delight, galloped ahead to clear a path for him through the troops. On +reaching the broad river Viliya, he stopped near a regiment of +Polish Uhlans stationed by the river. + +"Vivat!" shouted the Poles, ecstatically, breaking their ranks and +pressing against one another to see him. + +Napoleon looked up and down the river, dismounted, and sat down on a +log that lay on the bank. At a mute sign from him, a telescope was +handed him which he rested on the back of a happy page who had run +up to him, and he gazed at the opposite bank. Then he became +absorbed in a map laid out on the logs. Without lifting his head he +said something, and two of his aides-de-camp galloped off to the +Polish Uhlans. + +"What? What did he say?" was heard in the ranks of the Polish Uhlans +when one of the aides-de-camp rode up to them. + +The order was to find a ford and to cross the river. The colonel +of the Polish Uhlans, a handsome old man, flushed and, fumbling in his +speech from excitement, asked the aide-de-camp whether he would be +permitted to swim the river with his Uhlans instead of seeking a ford. +In evident fear of refusal, like a boy asking for permission to get on +a horse, he begged to be allowed to swim across the river before the +Emperor's eyes. The aide-de-camp replied that probably the Emperor +would not be displeased at this excess of zeal. + +As soon as the aide-de-camp had said this, the old mustached +officer, with happy face and sparkling eyes, raised his saber, shouted +"Vivat!" and, commanding the Uhlans to follow him, spurred his horse +and galloped into the river. He gave an angry thrust to his horse, +which had grown restive under him, and plunged into the water, heading +for the deepest part where the current was swift. Hundreds of Uhlans +galloped in after him. It was cold and uncanny in the rapid current in +the middle of the stream, and the Uhlans caught hold of one another as +they fell off their horses. Some of the horses were drowned and some +of the men; the others tried to swim on, some in the saddle and some +clinging to their horses' manes. They tried to make their way +forward to the opposite bank and, though there was a ford one third of +a mile away, were proud that they were swimming and drowning in this +river under the eyes of the man who sat on the log and was not even +looking at what they were doing. When the aide-de-camp, having +returned and choosing an opportune moment, ventured to draw the +Emperor's attention to the devotion of the Poles to his person, the +little man in the gray overcoat got up and, having summoned +Berthier, began pacing up and down the bank with him, giving him +instructions and occasionally glancing disapprovingly at the +drowning Uhlans who distracted his attention. + +For him it was no new conviction that his presence in any part of +the world, from Africa to the steppes of Muscovy alike, was enough +to dumfound people and impel them to insane self-oblivion. He called +for his horse and rode to his quarters. + +Some forty Uhlans were drowned in the river, though boats were +sent to their assistance. The majority struggled back to the bank from +which they had started. The colonel and some of his men got across and +with difficulty clambered out on the further bank. And as soon as they +had got out, in their soaked and streaming clothes, they shouted +"Vivat!" and looked ecstatically at the spot where Napoleon had been +but where he no longer was and at that moment considered themselves +happy. + +That evening, between issuing one order that the forged Russian +paper money prepared for use in Russia should be delivered as +quickly as possible and another that a Saxon should be shot, on whom a +letter containing information about the orders to the French army +had been found, Napoleon also gave instructions that the Polish +colonel who had needlessly plunged into the river should be enrolled +in the Legion d'honneur of which Napoleon was himself the head. + +Quos vult perdere dementat.* + + +*Those whom (God) wishes to destroy he drives mad. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The Emperor of Russia had, meanwhile, been in Vilna for more than +a month, reviewing troops and holding maneuvers. Nothing was ready for +the war that everyone expected and to prepare for which the Emperor +had come from Petersburg. There was no general plan of action. The +vacillation between the various plans that were proposed had even +increased after the Emperor had been at headquarters for a month. Each +of the three armies had its own commander in chief, but there was no +supreme commander of all the forces, and the Emperor did not assume +that responsibility himself. + +The longer the Emperor remained in Vilna the less did everybody--tired +of waiting--prepare for the war. All the efforts of those who surrounded +the sovereign seemed directed merely to making him spend his time +pleasantly and forget that war was impending. + +In June, after many balls and fetes given by the Polish magnates, by +the courtiers, and by the Emperor himself, it occurred to one of the +Polish aides-de-camp in attendance that a dinner and ball should be +given for the Emperor by his aides-de-camp. This idea was eagerly +received. The Emperor gave his consent. The aides-de-camp collected +money by subscription. The lady who was thought to be most pleasing to +the Emperor was invited to act as hostess. Count Bennigsen, being a +landowner in the Vilna province, offered his country house for the +fete, and the thirteenth of June was fixed for a ball, dinner, +regatta, and fireworks at Zakret, Count Bennigsen's country seat. + +The very day that Napoleon issued the order to cross the Niemen, and +his vanguard, driving off the Cossacks, crossed the Russian +frontier, Alexander spent the evening at the entertainment given by +his aides-de-camp at Bennigsen's country house. + +It was a gay and brilliant fete. Connoisseurs of such matters +declared that rarely had so many beautiful women been assembled in one +place. Countess Bezukhova was present among other Russian ladies who +had followed the sovereign from Petersburg to Vilna and eclipsed the +refined Polish ladies by her massive, so called Russian type of +beauty. The Emperor noticed her and honored her with a dance. + +Boris Drubetskoy, having left his wife in Moscow and being for the +present en garcon (as he phrased it), was also there and, though not +an aide-de-camp, had subscribed a large sum toward the expenses. Boris +was now a rich man who had risen to high honors and no longer sought +patronage but stood on an equal footing with the highest of those of +his own age. He was meeting Helene in Vilna after not having seen +her for a long time and did not recall the past, but as Helene was +enjoying the favors of a very important personage and Boris had only +recently married, they met as good friends of long standing. + +At midnight dancing was still going on. Helene, not having a +suitable partner, herself offered to dance the mazurka with Boris. +They were the third couple. Boris, coolly looking at Helene's dazzling +bare shoulders which emerged from a dark, gold-embroidered, gauze +gown, talked to her of old acquaintances and at the same time, unaware +of it himself and unnoticed by others, never for an instant ceased +to observe the Emperor who was in the same room. The Emperor was not +dancing, he stood in the doorway, stopping now one pair and now +another with gracious words which he alone knew how to utter. + +As the mazurka began, Boris saw that Adjutant General Balashev, +one of those in closest attendance on the Emperor, went up to him +and contrary to court etiquette stood near him while he was talking to +a Polish lady. Having finished speaking to her, the Emperor looked +inquiringly at Balashev and, evidently understanding that he only +acted thus because there were important reasons for so doing, nodded +slightly to the lady and turned to him. Hardly had Balashev begun to +speak before a look of amazement appeared on the Emperor's face. He +took Balashev by the arm and crossed the room with him, +unconsciously clearing a path seven yards wide as the people on both +sides made way for him. Boris noticed Arakcheev's excited face when +the sovereign went out with Balashev. Arakcheev looked at the +Emperor from under his brow and, sniffing with his red nose, stepped +forward from the crowd as if expecting the Emperor to address him. +(Boris understood that Arakcheev envied Balashev and was displeased +that evidently important news had reached the Emperor otherwise than +through himself.) + +But the Emperor and Balashev passed out into the illuminated +garden without noticing Arakcheev who, holding his sword and +glancing wrathfully around, followed some twenty paces behind them. + +All the time Boris was going through the figures of the mazurka, +he was worried by the question of what news Balashev had brought and +how he could find it out before others. In the figure in which he +had to choose two ladies, he whispered to Helene that he meant to +choose Countess Potocka who, he thought, had gone out onto the +veranda, and glided over the parquet to the door opening into the +garden, where, seeing Balashev and the Emperor returning to the +veranda, he stood still. They were moving toward the door. Boris, +fluttering as if he had not had time to withdraw, respectfully pressed +close to the doorpost with bowed head. + +The Emperor, with the agitation of one who has been personally +affronted, was finishing with these words: + +"To enter Russia without declaring war! I will not make peace as +long as a single armed enemy remains in my country!" It seemed to +Boris that it gave the Emperor pleasure to utter these words. He was +satisfied with the form in which he had expressed his thoughts, but +displeased that Boris had overheard it. + +"Let no one know of it!" the Emperor added with a frown. + +Boris understood that this was meant for him and, closing his +eyes, slightly bowed his head. The Emperor re-entered the ballroom and +remained there about another half-hour. + +Boris was thus the first to learn the news that the French army +had crossed the Niemen and, thanks to this, was able to show certain +important personages that much that was concealed from others was +usually known to him, and by this means he rose higher in their +estimation. + + +The unexpected news of the French having crossed the Niemen was +particularly startling after a month of unfulfilled expectations, +and at a ball. On first receiving the news, under the influence of +indignation and resentment the Emperor had found a phrase that pleased +him, fully expressed his feelings, and has since become famous. On +returning home at two o'clock that night he sent for his secretary, +Shishkov, and told him to write an order to the troops and a +rescript to Field Marshal Prince Saltykov, in which he insisted on the +words being inserted that he would not make peace so long as a +single armed Frenchman remained on Russian soil. + +Next day the following letter was sent to Napoleon: + + +Monsieur mon frere, + +Yesterday I learned that, despite the loyalty with which I have kept my +engagements with Your Majesty, your troops have crossed the Russian +frontier, and I have this moment received from Petersburg a note, in +which Count Lauriston informs me, as a reason for this aggression, +that Your Majesty has considered yourself to be in a state of war with +me from the time Prince Kuragin asked for his passports. The reasons +on which the Duc de Bassano based his refusal to deliver them to him +would never have led me to suppose that that could serve as a +pretext for aggression. In fact, the ambassador, as he himself has +declared, was never authorized to make that demand, and as soon as I +was informed of it I let him know how much I disapproved of it and +ordered him to remain at his post. If Your Majesty does not intend +to shed the blood of our peoples for such a misunderstanding, and +consents to withdraw your troops from Russian territory, I will regard +what has passed as not having occurred and an understanding between us +will be possible. In the contrary case, Your Majesty, I shall see +myself forced to repel an attack that nothing on my part has provoked. +It still depends on Your Majesty to preserve humanity from the +calamity of another war. I am, etc., + (signed) Alexander + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +At two in the morning of the fourteenth of June, the Emperor, having +sent for Balashev and read him his letter to Napoleon, ordered him +to take it and hand it personally to the French Emperor. When +dispatching Balashev, the Emperor repeated to him the words that he +would not make peace so long as a single armed enemy remained on +Russian soil and told him to transmit those words to Napoleon. +Alexander did not insert them in his letter to Napoleon, because +with his characteristic tact he felt it would be injudicious to use +them at a moment when a last attempt at reconciliation was being made, +but he definitely instructed Balashev to repeat them personally to +Napoleon. + +Having set off in the small hours of the fourteenth, accompanied +by a bugler and two Cossacks, Balashev reached the French outposts +at the village of Rykonty, on the Russian side of the Niemen, by dawn. +There he was stopped by French cavalry sentinels. + +A French noncommissioned officer of hussars, in crimson uniform +and a shaggy cap, shouted to the approaching Balashev to halt. +Balashev did not do so at once, but continued to advance along the +road at a walking pace. + +The noncommissioned officer frowned and, muttering words of abuse, +advanced his horse's chest against Balashev, put his hand to his +saber, and shouted rudely at the Russian general, asking: was he +deaf that he did not do as he was told? Balashev mentioned who he was. +The noncommissioned officer began talking with his comrades about +regimental matters without looking at the Russian general. + +After living at the seat of the highest authority and power, after +conversing with the Emperor less than three hours before, and in +general being accustomed to the respect due to his rank in the +service, Balashev found it very strange here on Russian soil to +encounter this hostile, and still more this disrespectful, application +of brute force to himself. + +The sun was only just appearing from behind the clouds, the air +was fresh and dewy. A herd of cattle was being driven along the road +from the village, and over the fields the larks rose trilling, one +after another, like bubbles rising in water. + +Balashev looked around him, awaiting the arrival of an officer +from the village. The Russian Cossacks and bugler and the French +hussars looked silently at one another from time to time. + +A French colonel of hussars, who had evidently just left his bed, +came riding from the village on a handsome sleek gray horse, +accompanied by two hussars. The officer, the soldiers, and their +horses all looked smart and well kept. + +It was that first period of a campaign when troops are still in full +trim, almost like that of peacetime maneuvers, but with a shade of +martial swagger in their clothes, and a touch of the gaiety and spirit +of enterprise which always accompany the opening of a campaign. + +The French colonel with difficulty repressed a yawn, but was +polite and evidently understood Balashev's importance. He led him past +his soldiers and behind the outposts and told him that his wish to +be presented to the Emperor would most likely be satisfied +immediately, as the Emperor's quarters were, he believed, not far off. + +They rode through the village of Rykonty, past tethered French +hussar horses, past sentinels and men who saluted their colonel and +stared with curiosity at a Russian uniform, and came out at the +other end of the village. The colonel said that the commander of the +division was a mile and a quarter away and would receive Balashev +and conduct him to his destination. + +The sun had by now risen and shone gaily on the bright verdure. + +They had hardly ridden up a hill, past a tavern, before they saw a +group of horsemen coming toward them. In front of the group, on a +black horse with trappings that glittered in the sun, rode a tall +man with plumes in his hat and black hair curling down to his +shoulders. He wore a red mantle, and stretched his long legs forward +in French fashion. This man rode toward Balashev at a gallop, his +plumes flowing and his gems and gold lace glittering in the bright +June sunshine. + +Balashev was only two horses' length from the equestrian with the +bracelets, plumes, necklaces, and gold embroidery, who was +galloping toward him with a theatrically solemn countenance, when +Julner, the French colonel, whispered respectfully: "The King of +Naples!" It was, in fact, Murat, now called "King of Naples." Though +it was quite incomprehensible why he should be King of Naples, he +was called so, and was himself convinced that he was so, and therefore +assumed a more solemn and important air than formerly. He was so +sure that he really was the King of Naples that when, on the eve of +his departure from that city, while walking through the streets with +his wife, some Italians called out to him: "Viva il re!"* he turned to +his wife with a pensive smile and said: "Poor fellows, they don't know +that I am leaving them tomorrow!" + + +*"Long live the king." + + +But though he firmly believed himself to be King of Naples and +pitied the grief felt by the subjects he was abandoning, latterly, +after he had been ordered to return to military service--and +especially since his last interview with Napoleon in Danzig, when +his august brother-in-law had told him: "I made you King that you +should reign in my way, but not in yours!"--he had cheerfully taken up +his familiar business, and--like a well-fed but not overfat horse that +feels himself in harness and grows skittish between the shafts--he +dressed up in clothes as variegated and expensive as possible, and +gaily and contentedly galloped along the roads of Poland, without +himself knowing why or whither. + +On seeing the Russian general he threw back his head, with its +long hair curling to his shoulders, in a majestically royal manner, +and looked inquiringly at the French colonel. The colonel respectfully +informed His Majesty of Balashev's mission, whose name he could not +pronounce. + +"De Bal-macheve!" said the King (overcoming by his assurance the +difficulty that had presented itself to the colonel). "Charmed to make +your acquaintance, General!" he added, with a gesture of kingly +condescension. + +As soon as the King began to speak loud and fast his royal dignity +instantly forsook him, and without noticing it he passed into his +natural tone of good-natured familiarity. He laid his hand on the +withers of Balashev's horse and said: + +"Well, General, it all looks like war," as if regretting a +circumstance of which he was unable to judge. + +"Your Majesty," replied Balashev, "my master, the Emperor, does +not desire war and as Your Majesty sees..." said Balashev, using the +words Your Majesty at every opportunity, with the affectation +unavoidable in frequently addressing one to whom the title was still a +novelty. + +Murat's face beamed with stupid satisfaction as he listened to +"Monsieur de Bal-macheve." But royaute oblige!* and he felt it +incumbent on him, as a king and an ally, to confer on state affairs +with Alexander's envoy. He dismounted, took Balashev's arm, and moving +a few steps away from his suite, which waited respectfully, began to +pace up and down with him, trying to speak significantly. He +referred to the fact that the Emperor Napoleon had resented the demand +that he should withdraw his troops from Prussia, especially when +that demand became generally known and the dignity of France was +thereby offended. + + +*"Royalty has its obligations." + + +Balashev replied that there was "nothing offensive in the demand, +because..." but Murat interrupted him. + +"Then you don't consider the Emperor Alexander the aggressor?" he +asked unexpectedly, with a kindly and foolish smile. + +Balashev told him why he considered Napoleon to be the originator of +the war. + +"Oh, my dear general!" Murat again interrupted him, "with all my +heart I wish the Emperors may arrange the affair between them, and +that the war begun by no wish of mine may finish as quickly as +possible!" said he, in the tone of a servant who wants to remain +good friends with another despite a quarrel between their masters. + +And he went on to inquiries about the Grand Duke and the state of +his health, and to reminiscences of the gay and amusing times he had +spent with him in Naples. Then suddenly, as if remembering his royal +dignity, Murat solemnly drew himself up, assumed the pose in which +he had stood at his coronation, and, waving his right arm, said: + +"I won't detain you longer, General. I wish success to your +mission," and with his embroidered red mantle, his flowing feathers, +and his glittering ornaments, he rejoined his suite who were +respectfully awaiting him. + +Balashev rode on, supposing from Murat's words that he would very +soon be brought before Napoleon himself. But instead of that, at the +next village the sentinels of Davout's infantry corps detained him +as the pickets of the vanguard had done, and an adjutant of the +corps commander, who was fetched, conducted him into the village to +Marshal Davout. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Davout was to Napoleon what Arakcheev was to Alexander--though not a +coward like Arakcheev, he was as precise, as cruel, and as unable to +express his devotion to his monarch except by cruelty. + +In the organism of states such men are necessary, as wolves are +necessary in the organism of nature, and they always exist, always +appear and hold their own, however incongruous their presence and +their proximity to the head of the government may be. This +inevitability alone can explain how the cruel Arakcheev, who tore +out a grenadier's mustache with his own hands, whose weak nerves +rendered him unable to face danger, and who was neither an educated +man nor a courtier, was able to maintain his powerful position with +Alexander, whose own character was chivalrous, noble, and gentle. + +Balashev found Davout seated on a barrel in the shed of a +peasant's hut, writing--he was auditing accounts. Better quarters +could have been found him, but Marshal Davout was one of those men who +purposely put themselves in most depressing conditions to have a +justification for being gloomy. For the same reason they are always +hard at work and in a hurry. "How can I think of the bright side of +life when, as you see, I am sitting on a barrel and working in a dirty +shed?" the expression of his face seemed to say. The chief pleasure +and necessity of such men, when they encounter anyone who shows +animation, is to flaunt their own dreary, persistent activity. +Davout allowed himself that pleasure when Balashev was brought in. +He became still more absorbed in his task when the Russian general +entered, and after glancing over his spectacles at Balashev's face, +which was animated by the beauty of the morning and by his talk with +Murat, he did not rise or even stir, but scowled still more and +sneered malevolently. + +When he noticed in Balashev's face the disagreeable impression +this reception produced, Davout raised his head and coldly asked +what he wanted. + +Thinking he could have been received in such a manner only because +Davout did not know that he was adjutant general to the Emperor +Alexander and even his envoy to Napoleon, Balashev hastened to +inform him of his rank and mission. Contrary to his expectation, +Davout, after hearing him, became still surlier and ruder. + +"Where is your dispatch?" he inquired. "Give it to me. I will send +it to the Emperor." + +Balashev replied that he had been ordered to hand it personally to +the Emperor. + +"Your Emperor's orders are obeyed in your army, but here," said +Davout, "you must do as you're told." + +And, as if to make the Russian general still more conscious of his +dependence on brute force, Davout sent an adjutant to call the officer +on duty. + +Balashev took out the packet containing the Emperor's letter and +laid it on the table (made of a door with its hinges still hanging +on it, laid across two barrels). Davout took the packet and read the +inscription. + +"You are perfectly at liberty to treat me with respect or not," +protested Balashev, "but permit me to observe that I have the honor to +be adjutant general to His Majesty...." + +Davout glanced at him silently and plainly derived pleasure from the +signs of agitation and confusion which appeared on Balashev's face. + +"You will be treated as is fitting," said he and, putting the packet +in his pocket, left the shed. + +A minute later the marshal's adjutant, de Castres, came in and +conducted Balashev to the quarters assigned him. + +That day he dined with the marshal, at the same board on the +barrels. + +Next day Davout rode out early and, after asking Balashev to come to +him, peremptorily requested him to remain there, to move on with the +baggage train should orders come for it to move, and to talk to no one +except Monsieur de Castres. + +After four days of solitude, ennui, and consciousness of his +impotence and insignificance--particularly acute by contrast with +the sphere of power in which he had so lately moved--and after several +marches with the marshal's baggage and the French army, which occupied +the whole district, Balashev was brought to Vilna--now occupied by the +French--through the very gate by which he had left it four days +previously. + +Next day the imperial gentleman-in-waiting, the Comte de Turenne, +came to Balashev and informed him of the Emperor Napoleon's wish to +honor him with an audience. + +Four days before, sentinels of the Preobrazhensk regiment had +stood in front of the house to which Balashev was conducted, and now +two French grenadiers stood there in blue uniforms unfastened in front +and with shaggy caps on their heads, and an escort of hussars and +Uhlans and a brilliant suite of aides-de-camp, pages, and generals, +who were waiting for Napoleon to come out, were standing at the porch, +round his saddle horse and his Mameluke, Rustan. Napoleon received +Balashev in the very house in Vilna from which Alexander had +dispatched him on his mission. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Though Balashev was used to imperial pomp, he was amazed at the +luxury and magnificence of Napoleon's court. + +The Comte de Turenne showed him into a big reception room where many +generals, gentlemen-in-waiting, and Polish magnates--several of whom +Balashev had seen at the court of the Emperor of Russia--were waiting. +Duroc said that Napoleon would receive the Russian general before +going for his ride. + +After some minutes, the gentleman-in-waiting who was on duty came +into the great reception room and, bowing politely, asked Balashev +to follow him. + +Balashev went into a small reception room, one door of which led +into a study, the very one from which the Russian Emperor had +dispatched him on his mission. He stood a minute or two, waiting. He +heard hurried footsteps beyond the door, both halves of it were opened +rapidly; all was silent and then from the study the sound was heard of +other steps, firm and resolute--they were those of Napoleon. He had +just finished dressing for his ride, and wore a blue uniform, +opening in front over a white waistcoat so long that it covered his +rotund stomach, white leather breeches tightly fitting the fat +thighs of his short legs, and Hessian boots. His short hair had +evidently just been brushed, but one lock hung down in the middle of +his broad forehead. His plump white neck stood out sharply above the +black collar of his uniform, and he smelled of Eau de Cologne. His +full face, rather young-looking, with its prominent chin, wore a +gracious and majestic expression of imperial welcome. + +He entered briskly, with a jerk at every step and his head +slightly thrown back. His whole short corpulent figure with broad +thick shoulders, and chest and stomach involuntarily protruding, had +that imposing and stately appearance one sees in men of forty who live +in comfort. It was evident, too, that he was in the best of spirits +that day. + +He nodded in answer to Balashav's low and respectful bow, and coming +up to him at once began speaking like a man who values every moment of +his time and does not condescend to prepare what he has to say but +is sure he will always say the right thing and say it well. + +"Good day, General!" said he. "I have received the letter you +brought from the Emperor Alexander and am very glad to see you." He +glanced with his large eyes into Balashav's face and immediately +looked past him. + +It was plain that Balashev's personality did not interest him at +all. Evidently only what took place within his own mind interested +him. Nothing outside himself had any significance for him, because +everything in the world, it seemed to him, depended entirely on his +will. + +"I do not, and did not, desire war," he continued, "but it has +been forced on me. Even now" (he emphasized the word) "I am ready to +receive any explanations you can give me." + +And he began clearly and concisely to explain his reasons for +dissatisfaction with the Russian government. Judging by the calmly +moderate and amicable tone in which the French Emperor spoke, Balashev +was firmly persuaded that he wished for peace and intended to enter +into negotiations. + +When Napoleon, having finished speaking, looked inquiringly at the +Russian envoy, Balashev began a speech he had prepared long before: +"Sire! The Emperor, my master..." but the sight of the Emperor's +eyes bent on him confused him. "You are flurried--compose yourself!" +Napoleon seemed to say, as with a scarcely perceptible smile he looked +at Balashev's uniform and sword. + +Balashev recovered himself and began to speak. He said that the +Emperor Alexander did not consider Kurakin's demand for his +passports a sufficient cause for war; that Kurakin had acted on his +own initiative and without his sovereign's assent, that the Emperor +Alexander did not desire war, and had no relations with England. + +"Not yet!" interposed Napoleon, and, as if fearing to give vent to +his feelings, he frowned and nodded slightly as a sign that Balashev +might proceed. + +After saying all he had been instructed to say, Balashev added +that the Emperor Alexander wished for peace, but would not enter +into negotiations except on condition that... Here Balashev hesitated: +he remembered the words the Emperor Alexander had not written in his +letter, but had specially inserted in the rescript to Saltykov and had +told Balashev to repeat to Napoleon. Balashev remembered these +words, "So long as a single armed foe remains on Russian soil," but +some complex feeling restrained him. He could not utter them, though +he wished to do so. He grew confused and said: "On condition that +the French army retires beyond the Niemen." + +Napoleon noticed Balashev's embarrassment when uttering these last +words; his face twitched and the calf of his left leg began to +quiver rhythmically. Without moving from where he stood he began +speaking in a louder tone and more hurriedly than before. During the +speech that followed, Balashev, who more than once lowered his eyes, +involuntarily noticed the quivering of Napoleon's left leg which +increased the more Napoleon raised his voice. + +"I desire peace, no less than the Emperor Alexander," he began. +"Have I not for eighteen months been doing everything to obtain it? +I have waited eighteen months for explanations. But in order to +begin negotiations, what is demanded of me?" he said, frowning and +making an energetic gesture of inquiry with his small white plump +hand. + +"The withdrawal of your army beyond the Niemen, sire," replied +Balashev. + +"The Niemen?" repeated Napoleon. "So now you want me to retire +beyond the Niemen--only the Niemen?" repeated Napoleon, looking +straight at Balashev. + +The latter bowed his head respectfully. + +Instead of the demand of four months earlier to withdraw from +Pomerania, only a withdrawal beyond the Niemen was now demanded. +Napoleon turned quickly and began to pace the room. + +"You say the demand now is that I am to withdraw beyond the Niemen +before commencing negotiations, but in just the same way two months +ago the demand was that I should withdraw beyond the Vistula and the +Oder, and yet you are willing to negotiate." + +He went in silence from one corner of the room to the other and +again stopped in front of Balashev. Balashev noticed that his left leg +was quivering faster than before and his face seemed petrified in +its stern expression. This quivering of his left leg was a thing +Napoleon was conscious of. "The vibration of my left calf is a great +sign with me," he remarked at a later date. + +"Such demands as to retreat beyond the Vistula and Oder may be +made to a Prince of Baden, but not to me!" Napoleon almost screamed, +quite to his own surprise. "If you gave me Petersburg and Moscow I +could not accept such conditions. You say I have begun this war! But +who first joined his army? The Emperor Alexander, not I! And you offer +me negotiations when I have expended millions, when you are in +alliance with England, and when your position is a bad one. You +offer me negotiations! But what is the aim of your alliance with +England? What has she given you?" he continued hurriedly, evidently no +longer trying to show the advantages of peace and discuss its +possibility, but only to prove his own rectitude and power and +Alexander's errors and duplicity. + +The commencement of his speech had obviously been made with the +intention of demonstrating the advantages of his position and +showing that he was nevertheless willing to negotiate. But he had +begun talking, and the more he talked the less could he control his +words. + +The whole purport of his remarks now was evidently to exalt +himself and insult Alexander--just what he had least desired at the +commencement of the interview. + +"I hear you have made peace with Turkey?" + +Balashev bowed his head affirmatively. + +"Peace has been concluded..." he began. + +But Napoleon did not let him speak. He evidently wanted to do all +the talking himself, and continued to talk with the sort of +eloquence and unrestrained irritability to which spoiled people are so +prone. + +"Yes, I know you have made peace with the Turks without obtaining +Moldavia and Wallachia; I would have given your sovereign those +provinces as I gave him Finland. Yes," he went on, "I promised and +would have given the Emperor Alexander Moldavia and Wallachia, and now +he won't have those splendid provinces. Yet he might have united +them to his empire and in a single reign would have extended Russia +from the Gulf of Bothnia to the mouths of the Danube. Catherine the +Great could not have done more," said Napoleon, growing more and +more excited as he paced up and down the room, repeating to Balashev +almost the very words he had used to Alexander himself at Tilsit. "All +that, he would have owed to my friendship. Oh, what a splendid reign!" +he repeated several times, then paused, drew from his pocket a gold +snuffbox, lifted it to his nose, and greedily sniffed at it. + +"What a splendid reign the Emperor Alexander's might have been!" + +He looked compassionately at Balashev, and as soon as the latter +tried to make some rejoinder hastily interrupted him. + +"What could he wish or look for that he would not have obtained +through my friendship?" demanded Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders in +perplexity. "But no, he has preferred to surround himself with my +enemies, and with whom? With Steins, Armfeldts, Bennigsens, and +Wintzingerodes! Stein, a traitor expelled from his own country; +Armfeldt, a rake and an intriguer; Wintzingerode, a fugitive French +subject; Bennigsen, rather more of a soldier than the others, but all +the same an incompetent who was unable to do anything in 1807 and who +should awaken terrible memories in the Emperor Alexander's mind.... +Granted that were they competent they might be made use of," continued +Napoleon--hardly able to keep pace in words with the rush of thoughts +that incessantly sprang up, proving how right and strong he was (in +his perception the two were one and the same)--"but they are not even +that! They are neither fit for war nor peace! Barclay is said to be +the most capable of them all, but I cannot say so, judging by his +first movements. And what are they doing, all these courtiers? Pfuel +proposes, Armfeldt disputes, Bennigsen considers, and Barclay, called +on to act, does not know what to decide on, and time passes bringing +no result. Bagration alone is a military man. He's stupid, but he has +experience, a quick eye, and resolution.... And what role is your +young monarch playing in that monstrous crowd? They compromise him and +throw on him the responsibility for all that happens. A sovereign +should not be with the army unless he is a general!" said Napoleon, +evidently uttering these words as a direct challenge to the Emperor. +He knew how Alexander desired to be a military commander. + +"The campaign began only a week ago, and you haven't even been +able to defend Vilna. You are cut in two and have been driven out of +the Polish provinces. Your army is grumbling." + +"On the contrary, Your Majesty," said Balashev, hardly able to +remember what had been said to him and following these verbal +fireworks with difficulty, "the troops are burning with eagerness..." + +"I know everything!" Napoleon interrupted him. "I know everything. I +know the number of your battalions as exactly as I know my own. You +have not two hundred thousand men, and I have three times that number. +I give you my word of honor," said Napoleon, forgetting that his +word of honor could carry no weight--"I give you my word of honor that +I have five hundred and thirty thousand men this side of the +Vistula. The Turks will be of no use to you; they are worth nothing +and have shown it by making peace with you. As for the Swedes--it is +their fate to be governed by mad kings. Their king was insane and they +changed him for another--Bernadotte, who promptly went mad--for no +Swede would ally himself with Russia unless he were mad." + +Napoleon grinned maliciously and again raised his snuffbox to his +nose. + +Balashev knew how to reply to each of Napoleon's remarks, and +would have done so; he continually made the gesture of a man wishing +to say something, but Napoleon always interrupted him. To the +alleged insanity of the Swedes, Balashev wished to reply that when +Russia is on her side Sweden is practically an island: but Napoleon +gave an angry exclamation to drown his voice. Napoleon was in that +state of irritability in which a man has to talk, talk, and talk, +merely to convince himself that he is in the right. Balashev began +to feel uncomfortable: as envoy he feared to demean his dignity and +felt the necessity of replying; but, as a man, he shrank before the +transport of groundless wrath that had evidently seized Napoleon. He +knew that none of the words now uttered by Napoleon had any +significance, and that Napoleon himself would be ashamed of them +when he came to his senses. Balashev stood with downcast eyes, looking +at the movements of Napoleon's stout legs and trying to avoid +meeting his eyes. + +"But what do I care about your allies?" said Napoleon. "I have +allies--the Poles. There are eighty thousand of them and they fight +like lions. And there will be two hundred thousand of them." + +And probably still more perturbed by the fact that he had uttered +this obvious falsehood, and that Balashev still stood silently +before him in the same attitude of submission to fate, Napoleon +abruptly turned round, drew close to Balashev's face, and, +gesticulating rapidly and energetically with his white hands, almost +shouted: + +"Know that if you stir up Prussia against me, I'll wipe it off the +map of Europe!" he declared, his face pale and distorted by anger, and +he struck one of his small hands energetically with the other. "Yes, I +will throw you back beyond the Dvina and beyond the Dnieper, and +will re-erect against you that barrier which it was criminal and blind +of Europe to allow to be destroyed. Yes, that is what will happen to +you. That is what you have gained by alienating me!" And he walked +silently several times up and down the room, his fat shoulders +twitching. + +He put his snuffbox into his waistcoat pocket, took it out again, +lifted it several times to his nose, and stopped in front of Balashev. +He paused, looked ironically straight into Balashev's eyes, and said +in a quiet voice: + +"And yet what a splendid reign your master might have had!" + +Balashev, feeling it incumbent on him to reply, said that from the +Russian side things did not appear in so gloomy a light. Napoleon +was silent, still looking derisively at him and evidently not +listening to him. Balashev said that in Russia the best results were +expected from the war. Napoleon nodded condescendingly, as if to +say, "I know it's your duty to say that, but you don't believe it +yourself. I have convinced you." + +When Balashev had ended, Napoleon again took out his snuffbox, +sniffed at it, and stamped his foot twice on the floor as a signal. +The door opened, a gentleman-in-waiting, bending respectfully, +handed the Emperor his hat and gloves; another brought him a pocket +handkerchief. Napoleon, without giving them a glance, turned to +Balashev: + +"Assure the Emperor Alexander from me," said he, taking his hat, +"that I am as devoted to him as before: I know him thoroughly and very +highly esteem his lofty qualities. I will detain you no longer, +General; you shall receive my letter to the Emperor." + +And Napoleon went quickly to the door. Everyone in the reception +room rushed forward and descended the staircase. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +After all that Napoleon had said to him--those bursts of anger and +the last dryly spoken words: "I will detain you no longer, General; +you shall receive my letter," Balashev felt convinced that Napoleon +would not wish to see him, and would even avoid another meeting with +him--an insulted envoy--especially as he had witnessed his unseemly +anger. But, to his surprise, Balashev received, through Duroc, an +invitation to dine with the Emperor that day. + +Bessieres, Caulaincourt, and Berthier were present at that dinner. + +Napoleon met Balashev cheerfully and amiably. He not only showed +no sign of constraint or self-reproach on account of his outburst that +morning, but, on the contrary, tried to reassure Balashev. It was +evident that he had long been convinced that it was impossible for him +to make a mistake, and that in his perception whatever he did was +right, not because it harmonized with any idea of right and wrong, but +because he did it. + +The Emperor was in very good spirits after his ride through Vilna, +where crowds of people had rapturously greeted and followed him. +From all the windows of the streets through which he rode, rugs, +flags, and his monogram were displayed, and the Polish ladies, +welcoming him, waved their handkerchiefs to him. + +At dinner, having placed Balashev beside him, Napoleon not only +treated him amiably but behaved as if Balashev were one of his own +courtiers, one of those who sympathized with his plans and ought to +rejoice at his success. In the course of conversation he mentioned +Moscow and questioned Balashev about the Russian capital, not merely +as an interested traveler asks about a new city he intends to visit, +but as if convinced that Balashev, as a Russian, must be flattered +by his curiosity. + +"How many inhabitants are there in Moscow? How many houses? Is it +true that Moscow is called 'Holy Moscow'? How many churches are +there in Moscow?" he asked. + +And receiving the reply that there were more than two hundred +churches, he remarked: + +"Why such a quantity of churches?" + +"The Russians are very devout," replied Balashev. + +"But a large number of monasteries and churches is always a sign +of the backwardness of a people," said Napoleon, turning to +Caulaincourt for appreciation of this remark. + +Balashev respectfully ventured to disagree with the French Emperor. + +"Every country has its own character," said he. + +"But nowhere in Europe is there anything like that," said Napoleon. + +"I beg your Majesty's pardon," returned Balashev, "besides Russia +there is Spain, where there are also many churches and monasteries." + +This reply of Balashev's, which hinted at the recent defeats of +the French in Spain, was much appreciated when he related it at +Alexander's court, but it was not much appreciated at Napoleon's +dinner, where it passed unnoticed. + +The uninterested and perplexed faces of the marshals showed that +they were puzzled as to what Balashev's tone suggested. "If there is a +point we don't see it, or it is not at all witty," their expressions +seemed to say. So little was his rejoinder appreciated that Napoleon +did not notice it at all and naively asked Balashev through what towns +the direct road from there to Moscow passed. Balashev, who was on +the alert all through the dinner, replied that just as "all roads lead +to Rome," so all roads lead to Moscow: there were many roads, and +"among them the road through Poltava, which Charles XII chose." +Balashev involuntarily flushed with pleasure at the aptitude of this +reply, but hardly had he uttered the word Poltava before +Caulaincourt began speaking of the badness of the road from Petersburg +to Moscow and of his Petersburg reminiscences. + +After dinner they went to drink coffee in Napoleon's study, which +four days previously had been that of the Emperor Alexander. +Napoleon sat down, toying with his Sevres coffee cup, and motioned +Balashev to a chair beside him. + +Napoleon was in that well-known after-dinner mood which, more than +any reasoned cause, makes a man contented with himself and disposed to +consider everyone his friend. It seemed to him that he was +surrounded by men who adored him: and he felt convinced that, after +his dinner, Balashev too was his friend and worshiper. Napoleon turned +to him with a pleasant, though slightly ironic, smile. + +"They tell me this is the room the Emperor Alexander occupied? +Strange, isn't it, General?" he said, evidently not doubting that this +remark would be agreeable to his hearer since it went to prove his, +Napoleon's, superiority to Alexander. + +Balashev made no reply and bowed his head in silence. + +"Yes. Four days ago in this room, Wintzingerode and Stein were +deliberating," continued Napoleon with the same derisive and +self-confident smile. "What I can't understand," he went on, "is +that the Emperor Alexander has surrounded himself with my personal +enemies. That I do not... understand. Has he not thought that I may do +the same?" and he turned inquiringly to Balashev, and evidently this +thought turned him back on to the track of his morning's anger, +which was still fresh in him. + +"And let him know that I will do so!" said Napoleon, rising and +pushing his cup away with his hand. "I'll drive all his Wurttemberg, +Baden, and Weimar relations out of Germany.... Yes. I'll drive them +out. Let him prepare an asylum for them in Russia!" + +Balashev bowed his head with an air indicating that he would like to +make his bow and leave, and only listened because he could not help +hearing what was said to him. Napoleon did not notice this expression; +he treated Balashev not as an envoy from his enemy, but as a man now +fully devoted to him and who must rejoice at his former master's +humiliation. + +"And why has the Emperor Alexander taken command of the armies? What +is the good of that? War is my profession, but his business is to +reign and not to command armies! Why has he taken on himself such a +responsibility?" + +Again Napoleon brought out his snuffbox, paced several times up +and down the room in silence, and then, suddenly and unexpectedly, +went up to Balashev and with a slight smile, as confidently, +quickly, and simply as if he were doing something not merely +important but pleasing to Balashev, he raised his hand to the +forty-year-old Russian general's face and, taking him by the ear, +pulled it gently, smiling with his lips only. + +To have one's ear pulled by the Emperor was considered the +greatest honor and mark of favor at the French court. + +"Well, adorer and courtier of the Emperor Alexander, why don't you +say anything?" said he, as if it was ridiculous, in his presence, to +be the adorer and courtier of anyone but himself, Napoleon. "Are the +horses ready for the general?" he added, with a slight inclination +of his head in reply to Balashev's bow. "Let him have mine, he has a +long way to go!" + +The letter taken by Balashev was the last Napoleon sent to +Alexander. Every detail of the interview was communicated to the +Russian monarch, and the war began... + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +After his interview with Pierre in Moscow, Prince Andrew went to +Petersburg, on business as he told his family, but really to meet +Anatole Kuragin whom he felt it necessary to encounter. On reaching +Petersburg he inquired for Kuragin but the latter had already left the +city. Pierre had warned his brother-in-law that Prince Andrew was on +his track. Anatole Kuragin promptly obtained an appointment from the +Minister of War and went to join the army in Moldavia. While in +Petersburg Prince Andrew met Kutuzov, his former commander who was +always well disposed toward him, and Kutuzov suggested that he +should accompany him to the army in Moldavia, to which the old general +had been appointed commander in chief. So Prince Andrew, having +received an appointment on the headquarters staff, left for Turkey. + +Prince Andrew did not think it proper to write and challenge +Kuragin. He thought that if he challenged him without some fresh cause +it might compromise the young Countess Rostova and so he wanted to +meet Kuragin personally in order to find a fresh pretext for a duel. +But he again failed to meet Kuragin in Turkey, for soon after Prince +Andrew arrived, the latter returned to Russia. In a new country, +amid new conditions, Prince Andrew found life easier to bear. After +his betrothed had broken faith with him--which he felt the more +acutely the more he tried to conceal its effects--the surroundings +in which he had been happy became trying to him, and the freedom and +independence he had once prized so highly were still more so. Not only +could he no longer think the thoughts that had first come to him as he +lay gazing at the sky on the field of Austerlitz and had later +enlarged upon with Pierre, and which had filled his solitude at +Bogucharovo and then in Switzerland and Rome, but he even dreaded to +recall them and the bright and boundless horizons they had +revealed. He was now concerned only with the nearest practical matters +unrelated to his past interests, and he seized on these the more +eagerly the more those past interests were closed to him. It was as if +that lofty, infinite canopy of heaven that had once towered above +him had suddenly turned into a low, solid vault that weighed him down, +in which all was clear, but nothing eternal or mysterious. + +Of the activities that presented themselves to him, army service was +the simplest and most familiar. As a general on duty on Kutuzov's +staff, he applied himself to business with zeal and perseverance and +surprised Kutuzov by his willingness and accuracy in work. Not +having found Kuragin in Turkey, Prince Andrew did not think it +necessary to rush back to Russia after him, but all the same he knew +that however long it might be before he met Kuragin, despite his +contempt for him and despite all the proofs he deduced to convince +himself that it was not worth stooping to a conflict with him--he knew +that when he did meet him he would not be able to resist calling him +out, any more than a ravenous man can help snatching at food. And +the consciousness that the insult was not yet avenged, that his rancor +was still unspent, weighed on his heart and poisoned the artificial +tranquillity which he managed to obtain in Turkey by means of +restless, plodding, and rather vainglorious and ambitious activity. + +In the year 1812, when news of the war with Napoleon reached +Bucharest--where Kutuzov had been living for two months, passing his +days and nights with a Wallachian woman--Prince Andrew asked Kutuzov +to transfer him to the Western Army. Kutuzov, who was already weary of +Bolkonski's activity which seemed to reproach his own idleness, very +readily let him go and gave him a mission to Barclay de Tolly. + +Before joining the Western Army which was then, in May, encamped +at Drissa, Prince Andrew visited Bald Hills which was directly on +his way, being only two miles off the Smolensk highroad. During the +last three years there had been so many changes in his life, he had +thought, felt, and seen so much (having traveled both in the east +and the west), that on reaching Bald Hills it struck him as strange +and unexpected to find the way of life there unchanged and still the +same in every detail. He entered through the gates with their stone +pillars and drove up the avenue leading to the house as if he were +entering an enchanted, sleeping castle. The same old stateliness, +the same cleanliness, the same stillness reigned there, and inside +there was the same furniture, the same walls, sounds, and smell, and +the same timid faces, only somewhat older. Princess Mary was still the +same timid, plain maiden getting on in years, uselessly and +joylessly passing the best years of her life in fear and constant +suffering. Mademoiselle Bourienne was the same coquettish, +self-satisfied girl, enjoying every moment of her existence and full +of joyous hopes for the future. She had merely become more +self-confident, Prince Andrew thought. Dessalles, the tutor he had +brought from Switzerland, was wearing a coat of Russian cut and +talking broken Russian to the servants, but was still the same +narrowly intelligent, conscientious, and pedantic preceptor. The old +prince had changed in appearance only by the loss of a tooth, which +left a noticeable gap on one side of his mouth; in character he was +the same as ever, only showing still more irritability and +skepticism as to what was happening in the world. Little Nicholas +alone had changed. He had grown, become rosier, had curly dark hair, +and, when merry and laughing, quite unconsciously lifted the upper lip +of his pretty little mouth just as the little princess used to do. +He alone did not obey the law of immutability in the enchanted, +sleeping castle. But though externally all remained as of old, the +inner relations of all these people had changed since Prince Andrew +had seen them last. The household was divided into two alien and +hostile camps, who changed their habits for his sake and only met +because he was there. To the one camp belonged the old prince, +Mademoiselle Bourienne, and the architect; to the other Princess +Mary, Dessalles, little Nicholas, and all the old nurses and maids. + +During his stay at Bald Hills all the family dined together, but +they were ill at ease and Prince Andrew felt that he was a visitor for +whose sake an exception was being made and that his presence made them +all feel awkward. Involuntarily feeling this at dinner on the first +day, he was taciturn, and the old prince noticing this also became +morosely dumb and retired to his apartments directly after dinner. +In the evening, when Prince Andrew went to him and, trying to rouse +him, began to tell him of the young Count Kamensky's campaign, the old +prince began unexpectedly to talk about Princess Mary, blaming her for +her superstitions and her dislike of Mademoiselle Bourienne, who, he +said, was the only person really attached to him. + +The old prince said that if he was ill it was only because of +Princess Mary: that she purposely worried and irritated him, and +that by indulgence and silly talk she was spoiling little Prince +Nicholas. The old prince knew very well that he tormented his daughter +and that her life was very hard, but he also knew that he could not +help tormenting her and that she deserved it. "Why does Prince Andrew, +who sees this, say nothing to me about his sister? Does he think me +a scoundrel, or an old fool who, without any reason, keeps his own +daughter at a distance and attaches this Frenchwoman to himself? He +doesn't understand, so I must explain it, and he must hear me out," +thought the old prince. And he began explaining why he could not put +up with his daughter's unreasonable character. + +"If you ask me," said Prince Andrew, without looking up (he was +censuring his father for the first time in his life), "I did not +wish to speak about it, but as you ask me I will give you my frank +opinion. If there is any misunderstanding and discord between you +and Mary, I can't blame her for it at all. I know how she loves and +respects you. Since you ask me," continued Prince Andrew, becoming +irritable--as he was always liable to do of late--"I can only say that +if there are any misunderstandings they are caused by that worthless +woman, who is not fit to be my sister's companion." + +The old man at first stared fixedly at his son, and an unnatural +smile disclosed the fresh gap between his teeth to which Prince Andrew +could not get accustomed. + +"What companion, my dear boy? Eh? You've already been talking it +over! Eh?" + +"Father, I did not want to judge," said Prince Andrew, in a hard and +bitter tone, "but you challenged me, and I have said, and always shall +say, that Mary is not to blame, but those to blame--the one to +blame--is that Frenchwoman." + +"Ah, he has passed judgment... passed judgement!" said the old man +in a low voice and, as it seemed to Prince Andrew, with some +embarrassment, but then he suddenly jumped up and cried: "Be off, be +off! Let not a trace of you remain here!..." + + +Prince Andrew wished to leave at once, but Princess Mary persuaded +him to stay another day. That day he did not see his father, who did +not leave his room and admitted no one but Mademoiselle Bourienne +and Tikhon, but asked several times whether his son had gone. Next +day, before leaving, Prince Andrew went to his son's rooms. The boy, +curly-headed like his mother and glowing with health, sat on his knee, +and Prince Andrew began telling him the story of Bluebeard, but fell +into a reverie without finishing the story. He thought not of this +pretty child, his son whom he held on his knee, but of himself. He +sought in himself either remorse for having angered his father or +regret at leaving home for the first time in his life on bad terms +with him, and was horrified to find neither. What meant still more +to him was that he sought and did not find in himself the former +tenderness for his son which he had hoped to reawaken by caressing the +boy and taking him on his knee. + +"Well, go on!" said his son. + +Prince Andrew, without replying, put him down from his knee and went +out of the room. + +As soon as Prince Andrew had given up his daily occupations, and +especially on returning to the old conditions of life amid which he +had been happy, weariness of life overcame him with its former +intensity, and he hastened to escape from these memories and to find +some work as soon as possible. + +"So you've decided to go, Andrew?" asked his sister. + +"Thank God that I can," replied Prince Andrew. "I am very sorry +you can't." + +"Why do you say that?" replied Princess Mary. "Why do you say +that, when you are going to this terrible war, and he is so old? +Mademoiselle Bourienne says he has been asking about you...." + +As soon as she began to speak of that, her lips trembled and her +tears began to fall. Prince Andrew turned away and began pacing the +room. + +"Ah, my God! my God! When one thinks who and what--what trash--can +cause people misery!" he said with a malignity that alarmed Princess +Mary. + +She understood that when speaking of "trash" he referred not only to +Mademoiselle Bourienne, the cause of her misery, but also to the man +who had ruined his own happiness. + +"Andrew! One thing I beg, I entreat of you!" she said, touching +his elbow and looking at him with eyes that shone through her tears. +"I understand you" (she looked down). "Don't imagine that sorrow is +the work of men. Men are His tools." She looked a little above +Prince Andrew's head with the confident, accustomed look with which +one looks at the place where a familiar portrait hangs. "Sorrow is +sent by Him, not by men. Men are His instruments, they are not to +blame. If you think someone has wronged you, forget it and forgive! We +have no right to punish. And then you will know the happiness of +forgiving." + +"If I were a woman I would do so, Mary. That is a woman's virtue. +But a man should not and cannot forgive and forget," he replied, and +though till that moment he had not been thinking of Kuragin, all his +unexpended anger suddenly swelled up in his heart. + +"If Mary is already persuading me forgive, it means that I ought +long ago to have punished him," he thought. And giving her no +further reply, he began thinking of the glad vindictive moment when he +would meet Kuragin who he knew was now in the army. + +Princess Mary begged him to stay one day more, saying that she +knew how unhappy her father would be if Andrew left without being +reconciled to him, but Prince Andrew replied that he would probably +soon be back again from the army and would certainly write to his +father, but that the longer he stayed now the more embittered their +differences would become. + +"Good-by, Andrew! Remember that misfortunes come from God, and men +are never to blame," were the last words he heard from his sister when +he took leave of her. + +"Then it must be so!" thought Prince Andrew as he drove out of the +avenue from the house at Bald Hills. "She, poor innocent creature, +is left to be victimized by an old man who has outlived his wits. +The old man feels he is guilty, but cannot change himself. My boy is +growing up and rejoices in life, in which like everybody else he +will deceive or be deceived. And I am off to the army. Why? I myself +don't know. I want to meet that man whom I despise, so as to give +him a chance to kill and laugh at me!" + +These conditions of life had been the same before, but then they +were all connected, while now they had all tumbled to pieces. Only +senseless things, lacking coherence, presented themselves one after +another to Prince Andrew's mind. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Prince Andrew reached the general headquarters of the army at the +end of June. The first army, with which was the Emperor, occupied +the fortified camp at Drissa; the second army was retreating, trying +to effect a junction with the first one from which it was said to be +cut off by large French forces. Everyone was dissatisfied with the +general course of affairs in the Russian army, but no one +anticipated any danger of invasion of the Russian provinces, and no +one thought the war would extend farther than the western, the Polish, +provinces. + +Prince Andrew found Barclay de Tolly, to whom he had been assigned, on +the bank of the Drissa. As there was not a single town or large +village in the vicinity of the camp, the immense number of generals +and courtiers accompanying the army were living in the best houses of +the villages on both sides of the river, over a radius of six miles. +Barclay de Tolly was quartered nearly three miles from the Emperor. He +received Bolkonski stiffly and coldly and told him in his foreign +accent that he would mention him to the Emperor for a decision as to +his employment, but asked him meanwhile to remain on his staff. +Anatole Kuragin, whom Prince Andrew had hoped to find with the army, +was not there. He had gone to Petersburg, but Prince Andrew was glad +to hear this. His mind was occupied by the interests of the center +that was conducting a gigantic war, and he was glad to be free for a +while from the distraction caused by the thought of Kuragin. During +the first four days, while no duties were required of him, Prince +Andrew rode round the whole fortified camp and, by the aid of his own +knowledge and by talks with experts, tried to form a definite opinion +about it. But the question whether the camp was advantageous or +disadvantageous remained for him undecided. Already from his military +experience and what he had seen in the Austrian campaign, he had come +to the conclusion that in war the most deeply considered plans have no +significance and that all depends on the way unexpected movements of +the enemy--that cannot be foreseen--are met, and on how and by whom +the whole matter is handled. To clear up this last point for himself, +Prince Andrew, utilizing his position and acquaintances, tried to +fathom the character of the control of the army and of the men and +parties engaged in it, and he deduced for himself the following of the +state of affairs. + +While the Emperor had still been at Vilna, the forces had been +divided into three armies. First, the army under Barclay de Tolly, +secondly, the army under Bagration, and thirdly, the one commanded +by Tormasov. The Emperor was with the first army, but not as commander +in chief. In the orders issued it was stated, not that the Emperor +would take command, but only that he would be with the army. The +Emperor, moreover, had with him not a commander in chief's staff but +the imperial headquarters staff. In attendance on him was the head +of the imperial staff, Quartermaster General Prince Volkonski, as well +as generals, imperial aides-de-camp, diplomatic officials, and a large +number of foreigners, but not the army staff. Besides these, there +were in attendance on the Emperor without any definite appointments: +Arakcheev, the ex-Minister of War; Count Bennigsen, the senior general +in rank; the Grand Duke Tsarevich Constantine Pavlovich; Count +Rumyantsev, the Chancellor; Stein, a former Prussian minister; +Armfeldt, a Swedish general; Pfuel, the chief author of the plan of +campaign; Paulucci, an adjutant general and Sardinian emigre; +Wolzogen--and many others. Though these men had no military +appointment in the army, their position gave them influence, and often +a corps commander, or even the commander in chief, did not know in +what capacity he was questioned by Bennigsen, the Grand Duke, +Arakcheev, or Prince Volkonski, or was given this or that advice and +did not know whether a certain order received in the form of advice +emanated from the man who gave it or from the Emperor and whether it +had to be executed or not. But this was only the external condition; +the essential significance of the presence of the Emperor and of all +these people, from a courtier's point of view (and in an Emperor's +vicinity all became courtiers), was clear to everyone. It was this: +the Emperor did not assume the title of commander in chief, but +disposed of all the armies; the men around him were his assistants. +Arakcheev was a faithful custodian to enforce order and acted as the +sovereign's bodyguard. Bennigsen was a landlord in the Vilna +province who appeared to be doing the honors of the district, but +was in reality a good general, useful as an adviser and ready at +hand to replace Barclay. The Grand Duke was there because it suited +him to be. The ex-Minister Stein was there because his advice was +useful and the Emperor Alexander held him in high esteem personally. +Armfeldt virulently hated Napoleon and was a general full of +self-confidence, a quality that always influenced Alexander. +Paulucci was there because he was bold and decided in speech. The +adjutants general were there because they always accompanied the +Emperor, and lastly and chiefly Pfuel was there because he had drawn +up the plan of campaign against Napoleon and, having induced Alexander +to believe in the efficacy of that plan, was directing the whole +business of the war. With Pfuel was Wolzogen, who expressed Pfuel's +thoughts in a more comprehensible way than Pfuel himself (who was a +harsh, bookish theorist, self-confident to the point of despising +everyone else) was able to do. + +Besides these Russians and foreigners who propounded new and +unexpected ideas every day--especially the foreigners, who did so with +a boldness characteristic of people employed in a country not their +own--there were many secondary personages accompanying the army +because their principals were there. + +Among the opinions and voices in this immense, restless, +brilliant, and proud sphere, Prince Andrew noticed the following +sharply defined subdivisions of tendencies and parties: + +The first party consisted of Pfuel and his adherents--military +theorists who believed in a science of war with immutable laws--laws +of oblique movements, outflankings, and so forth. Pfuel and his +adherents demanded a retirement into the depths of the country in +accordance with precise laws defined by a pseudo-theory of war, and +they saw only barbarism, ignorance, or evil intention in every +deviation from that theory. To this party belonged the foreign nobles, +Wolzogen, Wintzingerode, and others, chiefly Germans. + +The second party was directly opposed to the first; one extreme, +as always happens, was met by representatives of the other. The +members of this party were those who had demanded an advance from +Vilna into Poland and freedom from all prearranged plans. Besides +being advocates of bold action, this section also represented +nationalism, which made them still more one-sided in the dispute. They +were Russians: Bagration, Ermolov (who was beginning to come to the +front), and others. At that time a famous joke of Ermolov's was +being circulated, that as a great favor he had petitioned the +Emperor to make him a German. The men of that party, remembering +Suvorov, said that what one had to do was not to reason, or stick pins +into maps, but to fight, beat the enemy, keep him out of Russia, and +not let the army get discouraged. + +To the third party--in which the Emperor had most confidence--belonged +the courtiers who tried to arrange compromises between the other two. +The members of this party, chiefly civilians and to whom Arakcheev +belonged, thought and said what men who have no convictions but wish +to seem to have some generally say. They said that undoubtedly war, +particularly against such a genius as Bonaparte (they called him +Bonaparte now), needs most deeply devised plans and profound +scientific knowledge and in that respect Pfuel was a genius, but at +the same time it had to be acknowledged that the theorists are often +one sided, and therefore one should not trust them absolutely, but +should also listen to what Pfuel's opponents and practical men of +experience in warfare had to say, and then choose a middle course. +They insisted on the retention of the camp at Drissa, according to +Pfuel's plan, but on changing the movements of the other armies. +Though, by this course, neither one aim nor the other could be +attained, yet it seemed best to the adherents of this third party. + +Of a fourth opinion the most conspicuous representative was the +Tsarevich, who could not forget his disillusionment at Austerlitz, +where he had ridden out at the head of the Guards, in his casque and +cavalry uniform as to a review, expecting to crush the French +gallantly; but unexpectedly finding himself in the front line had +narrowly escaped amid the general confusion. The men of this party had +both the quality and the defect of frankness in their opinions. They +feared Napoleon, recognized his strength and their own weakness, and +frankly said so. They said: "Nothing but sorrow, shame, and ruin +will come of all this! We have abandoned Vilna and Vitebsk and shall +abandon Drissa. The only reasonable thing left to do is to conclude +peace as soon as possible, before we are turned out of Petersburg." + +This view was very general in the upper army circles and found +support also in Petersburg and from the chancellor, Rumyantsev, who, +for other reasons of state, was in favor of peace. + +The fifth party consisted of those who were adherents of Barclay +de Tolly, not so much as a man but as minister of war and commander in +chief. "Be he what he may" (they always began like that), "he is an +honest, practical man and we have nobody better. Give him real +power, for war cannot be conducted successfully without unity of +command, and he will show what he can do, as he did in Finland. If our +army is well organized and strong and has withdrawn to Drissa +without suffering any defeats, we owe this entirely to Barclay. If +Barclay is now to be superseded by Bennigsen all will be lost, for +Bennigsen showed his incapacity already in 1807." + +The sixth party, the Bennigsenites, said, on the contrary, that at +any rate there was no one more active and experienced than +Bennigsen: "and twist about as you may, you will have to come to +Bennigsen eventually. Let the others make mistakes now!" said they, +arguing that our retirement to Drissa was a most shameful reverse +and an unbroken series of blunders. "The more mistakes that are made +the better. It will at any rate be understood all the sooner that +things cannot go on like this. What is wanted is not some Barclay or +other, but a man like Bennigsen, who made his mark in 1807, and to +whom Napoleon himself did justice--a man whose authority would be +willingly recognized, and Bennigsen is the only such man." + +The seventh party consisted of the sort of people who are always +to be found, especially around young sovereigns, and of whom there +were particularly many round Alexander--generals and imperial +aides-de-camp passionately devoted to the Emperor, not merely as a +monarch but as a man, adoring him sincerely and disinterestedly, as +Rostov had done in 1805, and who saw in him not only all the virtues +but all human capabilities as well. These men, though enchanted with +the sovereign for refusing the command of the army, yet blamed him for +such excessive modesty, and only desired and insisted that their +adored sovereign should abandon his diffidence and openly announce +that he would place himself at the head of the army, gather round +him a commander in chief's staff, and, consulting experienced +theoreticians and practical men where necessary, would himself lead +the troops, whose spirits would thereby be raised to the highest +pitch. + +The eighth and largest group, which in its enormous numbers was to +the others as ninety-nine to one, consisted of men who desired neither +peace nor war, neither an advance nor a defensive camp at the Drissa +or anywhere else, neither Barclay nor the Emperor, neither Pfuel nor +Bennigsen, but only the one most essential thing--as much advantage +and pleasure for themselves as possible. In the troubled waters of +conflicting and intersecting intrigues that eddied about the Emperor's +headquarters, it was possible to succeed in many ways unthinkable at +other times. A man who simply wished to retain his lucrative post +would today agree with Pfuel, tomorrow with his opponent, and the +day after, merely to avoid responsibility or to please the Emperor, +would declare that he had no opinion at all on the matter. Another who +wished to gain some advantage would attract the Emperor's attention by +loudly advocating the very thing the Emperor had hinted at the day +before, and would dispute and shout at the council, beating his breast +and challenging those who did not agree with him to duels, thereby +proving that he was prepared to sacrifice himself for the common good. +A third, in the absence of opponents, between two councils would +simply solicit a special gratuity for his faithful services, well +knowing that at that moment people would be too busy to refuse him. +A fourth while seemingly overwhelmed with work would often come +accidentally under the Emperor's eye. A fifth, to achieve his +long-cherished aim of dining with the Emperor, would stubbornly insist +on the correctness or falsity of some newly emerging opinion and for +this object would produce arguments more or less forcible and correct. + +All the men of this party were fishing for rubles, decorations, +and promotions, and in this pursuit watched only the weathercock of +imperial favor, and directly they noticed it turning in any direction, +this whole drone population of the army began blowing hard that way, +so that it was all the harder for the Emperor to turn it elsewhere. +Amid the uncertainties of the position, with the menace of serious +danger giving a peculiarly threatening character to everything, amid +this vortex of intrigue, egotism, conflict of views and feelings, +and the diversity of race among these people--this eighth and +largest party of those preoccupied with personal interests imparted +great confusion and obscurity to the common task. Whatever question +arose, a swarm of these drones, without having finished their +buzzing on a previous theme, flew over to the new one and by their hum +drowned and obscured the voices of those who were disputing honestly. + +From among all these parties, just at the time Prince Andrew reached +the army, another, a ninth party, was being formed and was beginning +to raise its voice. This was the party of the elders, reasonable men +experienced and capable in state affairs, who, without sharing any +of those conflicting opinions, were able to take a detached view of +what was going on at the staff at headquarters and to consider means +of escape from this muddle, indecision, intricacy, and weakness. + +The men of this party said and thought that what was wrong +resulted chiefly from the Emperor's presence in the army with his +military court and from the consequent presence there of an +indefinite, conditional, and unsteady fluctuation of relations, +which is in place at court but harmful in an army; that a sovereign +should reign but not command the army, and that the only way out of +the position would be for the Emperor and his court to leave the army; +that the mere presence of the Emperor paralyzed the action of fifty +thousand men required to secure his personal safety, and that the +worst commander in chief if independent would be better than the +very best one trammeled by the presence and authority of the monarch. + +Just at the time Prince Andrew was living unoccupied at Drissa, +Shishkov, the Secretary of State and one of the chief representatives +of this party, wrote a letter to the Emperor which Arakcheev and +Balashev agreed to sign. In this letter, availing himself of +permission given him by the Emperor to discuss the general course of +affairs, he respectfully suggested--on the plea that it was necessary +for the sovereign to arouse a warlike spirit in the people of the +capital--that the Emperor should leave the army. + +That arousing of the people by their sovereign and his call to +them to defend their country--the very incitement which was the +chief cause of Russia's triumph in so far as it was produced by the +Tsar's personal presence in Moscow--was suggested to the Emperor, +and accepted by him, as a pretext for quitting the army. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +This letter had not yet been presented to the Emperor when +Barclay, one day at dinner, informed Bolkonski that the sovereign +wished to see him personally, to question him about Turkey, and that +Prince Andrew was to present himself at Bennigsen's quarters at six +that evening. + +News was received at the Emperor's quarters that very day of a fresh +movement by Napoleon which might endanger the army--news +subsequently found to be false. And that morning Colonel Michaud had +ridden round the Drissa fortifications with the Emperor and had +pointed out to him that this fortified camp constructed by Pfuel, +and till then considered a chef-d'oeuvre of tactical science which +would ensure Napoleon's destruction, was an absurdity, threatening the +destruction of the Russian army. + +Prince Andrew arrived at Bennigsen's quarters--a country gentleman's +house of moderate size, situated on the very banks of the river. +Neither Bennigsen nor the Emperor was there, but Chernyshev, the +Emperor's aide-de-camp, received Bolkonski and informed him that the +Emperor, accompanied by General Bennigsen and Marquis Paulucci, had +gone a second time that day to inspect the fortifications of the +Drissa camp, of the suitability of which serious doubts were beginning +to be felt. + +Chernyshev was sitting at a window in the first room with a French +novel in his hand. This room had probably been a music room; there was +still an organ in it on which some rugs were piled, and in one +corner stood the folding bedstead of Bennigsen's adjutant. This +adjutant was also there and sat dozing on the rolled-up bedding, +evidently exhausted by work or by feasting. Two doors led from the +room, one straight on into what had been the drawing room, and +another, on the right, to the study. Through the first door came the +sound of voices conversing in German and occasionally in French. In +that drawing room were gathered, by the Emperor's wish, not a military +council (the Emperor preferred indefiniteness), but certain persons +whose opinions he wished to know in view of the impending +difficulties. It was not a council of war, but, as it were, a +council to elucidate certain questions for the Emperor personally. +To this semicouncil had been invited the Swedish General Armfeldt, +Adjutant General Wolzogen, Wintzingerode (whom Napoleon had referred +to as a renegade French subject), Michaud, Toll, Count Stein who was +not a military man at all, and Pfuel himself, who, as Prince Andrew +had heard, was the mainspring of the whole affair. Prince Andrew had +an opportunity of getting a good look at him, for Pfuel arrived soon +after himself and, in passing through to the drawing room, stopped a +minute to speak to Chernyshev. + +At first sight, Pfuel, in his ill-made uniform of a Russian general, +which fitted him badly like a fancy costume, seemed familiar to Prince +Andrew, though he saw him now for the first time. There was about +him something of Weyrother, Mack, and Schmidt, and many other German +theorist-generals whom Prince Andrew had seen in 1805, but he was more +typical than any of them. Prince Andrew had never yet seen a German +theorist in whom all the characteristics of those others were united +to such an extent. + +Pfuel was short and very thin but broad-boned, of coarse, robust +build, broad in the hips, and with prominent shoulder blades. His face +was much wrinkled and his eyes deep set. His hair had evidently been +hastily brushed smooth in front of the temples, but stuck up behind in +quaint little tufts. He entered the room, looking restlessly and +angrily around, as if afraid of everything in that large apartment. +Awkwardly holding up his sword, he addressed Chernyshev and asked in +German where the Emperor was. One could see that he wished to pass +through the rooms as quickly as possible, finish with the bows and +greetings, and sit down to business in front of a map, where he +would feel at home. He nodded hurriedly in reply to Chernyshev, and +smiled ironically on hearing that the sovereign was inspecting the +fortifications that he, Pfuel, had planned in accord with his +theory. He muttered something to himself abruptly and in a bass voice, +as self-assured Germans do--it might have been "stupid fellow"... or +"the whole affair will be ruined," or "something absurd will come of +it."... Prince Andrew did not catch what he said and would have passed +on, but Chernyshev introduced him to Pfuel, remarking that Prince +Andrew was just back from Turkey where the war had terminated so +fortunately. Pfuel barely glanced--not so much at Prince Andrew as +past him--and said, with a laugh: "That must have been a fine tactical +war"; and, laughing contemptuously, went on into the room from which +the sound of voices was heard. + +Pfuel, always inclined to be irritably sarcastic, was particularly +disturbed that day, evidently by the fact that they had dared to inspect +and criticize his camp in his absence. From this short interview with +Pfuel, Prince Andrew, thanks to his Austerlitz experiences, was able to +form a clear conception of the man. Pfuel was one of those hopelessly and +immutably self-confident men, self-confident to the point of martyrdom as +only Germans are, because only Germans are self-confident on the basis of +an abstract notion--science, that is, the supposed knowledge of absolute +truth. A Frenchman is self-assured because he regards himself personally, +both in mind and body, as irresistibly attractive to men and women. An +Englishman is self-assured, as being a citizen of the best-organized state +in the world, and therefore as an Englishman always knows what he should +do and knows that all he does as an Englishman is undoubtedly correct. An +Italian is self-assured because he is excitable and easily forgets himself +and other people. A Russian is self-assured just because he knows nothing +and does not want to know anything, since he does not believe that +anything can be known. The German's self-assurance is worst of all, +stronger and more repulsive than any other, because he imagines that he +knows the truth--science--which he himself has invented but which is for +him the absolute truth. + +Pfuel was evidently of that sort. He had a science--the theory of +oblique movements deduced by him from the history of Frederick the +Great's wars, and all he came across in the history of more recent +warfare seemed to him absurd and barbarous--monstrous collisions in +which so many blunders were committed by both sides that these wars +could not be called wars, they did not accord with the theory, and +therefore could not serve as material for science. + +In 1806 Pfuel had been one of those responsible, for the plan of +campaign that ended in Jena and Auerstadt, but he did not see the +least proof of the fallibility of his theory in the disasters of +that war. On the contrary, the deviations made from his theory were, +in his opinion, the sole cause of the whole disaster, and with +characteristically gleeful sarcasm he would remark, "There, I said the +whole affair would go to the devil!" Pfuel was one of those +theoreticians who so love their theory that they lose sight of the +theory's object--its practical application. His love of theory made +him hate everything practical, and he would not listen to it. He was +even pleased by failures, for failures resulting from deviations in +practice from the theory only proved to him the accuracy of his +theory. + +He said a few words to Prince Andrew and Chernyshev about the +present war, with the air of a man who knows beforehand that all +will go wrong, and who is not displeased that it should be so. The +unbrushed tufts of hair sticking up behind and the hastily brushed +hair on his temples expressed this most eloquently. + +He passed into the next room, and the deep, querulous sounds of +his voice were at once heard from there. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Prince Andrew's eyes were still following Pfuel out of the room when +Count Bennigsen entered hurriedly, and nodding to Bolkonski, but not +pausing, went into the study, giving instructions to his adjutant as +he went. The Emperor was following him, and Bennigsen had hastened +on to make some preparations and to be ready to receive the sovereign. +Chernyshev and Prince Andrew went out into the porch, where the +Emperor, who looked fatigued, was dismounting. Marquis Paulucci was +talking to him with particular warmth and the Emperor, with his head +bent to the left, was listening with a dissatisfied air. The Emperor +moved forward evidently wishing to end the conversation, but the +flushed and excited Italian, oblivious of decorum, followed him and +continued to speak. + +"And as for the man who advised forming this camp--the Drissa camp," +said Paulucci, as the Emperor mounted the steps and noticing Prince +Andrew scanned his unfamiliar face, "as to that person, sire..." +continued Paulucci, desperately, apparently unable to restrain +himself, "the man who advised the Drissa camp--I see no alternative +but the lunatic asylum or the gallows!" + +Without heeding the end of the Italian's remarks, and as though +not hearing them, the Emperor, recognizing Bolkonski, addressed him +graciously. + +"I am very glad to see you! Go in there where they are meeting, +and wait for me." + +The Emperor went into the study. He was followed by Prince Peter +Mikhaylovich Volkonski and Baron Stein, and the door closed behind +them. Prince Andrew, taking advantage of the Emperor's permission, +accompanied Paulucci, whom he had known in Turkey, into the drawing +room where the council was assembled. + +Prince Peter Mikhaylovich Volkonski occupied the position, as it +were, of chief of the Emperor's staff. He came out of the study into +the drawing room with some maps which he spread on a table, and put +questions on which he wished to hear the opinion of the gentlemen +present. What had happened was that news (which afterwards proved to +be false) had been received during the night of a movement by the +French to outflank the Drissa camp. + +The first to speak was General Armfeldt who, to meet the difficulty +that presented itself, unexpectedly proposed a perfectly new position +away from the Petersburg and Moscow roads. The reason for this was +inexplicable (unless he wished to show that he, too, could have an +opinion), but he urged that at this point the army should unite and +there await the enemy. It was plain that Armfeldt had thought out that +plan long ago and now expounded it not so much to answer the questions +put--which, in fact, his plan did not answer--as to avail himself of +the opportunity to air it. It was one of the millions of proposals, +one as good as another, that could be made as long as it was quite +unknown what character the war would take. Some disputed his +arguments, others defended them. Young Count Toll objected to the +Swedish general's views more warmly than anyone else, and in the +course of the dispute drew from his side pocket a well-filled +notebook, which he asked permission to read to them. In these +voluminous notes Toll suggested another scheme, totally different from +Armfeldt's or Pfuel's plan of campaign. In answer to Toll, Paulucci +suggested an advance and an attack, which, he urged, could alone +extricate us from the present uncertainty and from the trap (as he +called the Drissa camp) in which we were situated. + +During all these discussions Pfuel and his interpreter, Wolzogen +(his "bridge" in court relations), were silent. Pfuel only snorted +contemptuously and turned away, to show that he would never demean +himself by replying to such nonsense as he was now hearing. So when +Prince Volkonski, who was in the chair, called on him to give his +opinion, he merely said: + +"Why ask me? General Armfeldt has proposed a splendid position +with an exposed rear, or why not this Italian gentleman's attack--very +fine, or a retreat, also good! Why ask me?" said he. "Why, you +yourselves know everything better than I do." + +But when Volkonski said, with a frown, that it was in the +Emperor's name that he asked his opinion, Pfuel rose and, suddenly +growing animated, began to speak: + +"Everything has been spoiled, everything muddled, everybody +thought they knew better than I did, and now you come to me! How +mend matters? There is nothing to mend! The principles laid down by me +must be strictly adhered to," said he, drumming on the table with +his bony fingers. "What is the difficulty? Nonsense, childishness!" + +He went up to the map and speaking rapidly began proving that no +eventuality could alter the efficiency of the Drissa camp, that +everything had been foreseen, and that if the enemy were really +going to outflank it, the enemy would inevitably be destroyed. + +Paulucci, who did not know German, began questioning him in +French. Wolzogen came to the assistance of his chief, who spoke French +badly, and began translating for him, hardly able to keep pace with +Pfuel, who was rapidly demonstrating that not only all that had +happened, but all that could happen, had been foreseen in his +scheme, and that if there were now any difficulties the whole fault +lay in the fact that his plan had not been precisely executed. He kept +laughing sarcastically, he demonstrated, and at last contemptuously +ceased to demonstrate, like a mathematician who ceases to prove in +various ways the accuracy of a problem that has already been proved. +Wolzogen took his place and continued to explain his views in +French, every now and then turning to Pfuel and saying, "Is it not so, +your excellency?" But Pfuel, like a man heated in a fight who +strikes those on his own side, shouted angrily at his own supporter, +Wolzogen: + +"Well, of course, what more is there to explain?" + +Paulucci and Michaud both attacked Wolzogen simultaneously in +French. Armfeldt addressed Pfuel in German. Toll explained to +Volkonski in Russian. Prince Andrew listened and observed in silence. + +Of all these men Prince Andrew sympathized most with Pfuel, angry, +determined, and absurdly self-confident as he was. Of all those +present, evidently he alone was not seeking anything for himself, +nursed no hatred against anyone, and only desired that the plan, +formed on a theory arrived at by years of toil, should be carried out. +He was ridiculous, and unpleasantly sarcastic, but yet he inspired +involuntary respect by his boundless devotion to an idea. Besides +this, the remarks of all except Pfuel had one common trait that had +not been noticeable at the council of war in 1805: there was now a +panic fear of Napoleon's genius, which, though concealed, was +noticeable in every rejoinder. Everything was assumed to be possible +for Napoleon, they expected him from every side, and invoked his +terrible name to shatter each other's proposals. Pfuel alone seemed to +consider Napoleon a barbarian like everyone else who opposed his +theory. But besides this feeling of respect, Pfuel evoked pity in +Prince Andrew. From the tone in which the courtiers addressed him +and the way Paulucci had allowed himself to speak of him to the +Emperor, but above all from a certain desperation in Pfuel's own +expressions, it was clear that the others knew, and Pfuel himself +felt, that his fall was at hand. And despite his self-confidence and +grumpy German sarcasm he was pitiable, with his hair smoothly +brushed on the temples and sticking up in tufts behind. Though he +concealed the fact under a show of irritation and contempt, he was +evidently in despair that the sole remaining chance of verifying his +theory by a huge experiment and proving its soundness to the whole +world was slipping away from him. + +The discussions continued a long time, and the longer they lasted +the more heated became the disputes, culminating in shouts and +personalities, and the less was it possible to arrive at any general +conclusion from all that had been said. Prince Andrew, listening to +this polyglot talk and to these surmises, plans, refutations, and +shouts, felt nothing but amazement at what they were saying. A thought +that had long since and often occurred to him during his military +activities--the idea that there is not and cannot be any science of +war, and that therefore there can be no such thing as a military +genius--now appeared to him an obvious truth. "What theory and science +is possible about a matter the conditions and circumstances of which +are unknown and cannot be defined, especially when the strength of the +acting forces cannot be ascertained? No one was or is able to +foresee in what condition our or the enemy's armies will be in a day's +time, and no one can gauge the force of this or that detachment. +Sometimes--when there is not a coward at the front to shout, 'We are +cut off!' and start running, but a brave and jolly lad who shouts, +'Hurrah!'--a detachment of five thousand is worth thirty thousand, +as at Schon Grabern, while at times fifty thousand run from eight +thousand, as at Austerlitz. What science can there be in a matter in +which, as in all practical matters, nothing can be defined and +everything depends on innumerable conditions, the significance of +which is determined at a particular moment which arrives no one +knows when? Armfeldt says our army is cut in half, and Paulucci says +we have got the French army between two fires; Michaud says that the +worthlessness of the Drissa camp lies in having the river behind it, +and Pfuel says that is what constitutes its strength; Toll proposes +one plan, Armfeldt another, and they are all good and all bad, and the +advantages of any suggestions can be seen only at the moment of trial. +And why do they all speak of a 'military genius'? Is a man a genius +who can order bread to be brought up at the right time and say who +is to go to the right and who to the left? It is only because military +men are invested with pomp and power and crowds of sychophants flatter +power, attributing to it qualities of genius it does not possess. +The best generals I have known were, on the contrary, stupid or +absent-minded men. Bagration was the best, Napoleon himself admitted +that. And of Bonaparte himself! I remember his limited, self-satisfied +face on the field of Austerlitz. Not only does a good army commander +not need any special qualities, on the contrary he needs the absence +of the highest and best human attributes--love, poetry, tenderness, +and philosophic inquiring doubt. He should be limited, firmly +convinced that what he is doing is very important (otherwise he will +not have sufficient patience), and only then will he be a brave +leader. God forbid that he should be humane, should love, or pity, +or think of what is just and unjust. It is understandable that a +theory of their 'genius' was invented for them long ago because they +have power! The success of a military action depends not on them, +but on the man in the ranks who shouts, 'We are lost!' or who +shouts, 'Hurrah!' And only in the ranks can one serve with assurance +of being useful." + +So thought Prince Andrew as he listened to the talking, and he +roused himself only when Paulucci called him and everyone was leaving. + +At the review next day the Emperor asked Prince Andrew where he +would like to serve, and Prince Andrew lost his standing in court +circles forever by not asking to remain attached to the sovereign's +person, but for permission to serve in the army. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Before the beginning of the campaign, Rostov had received a letter +from his parents in which they told him briefly of Natasha's illness +and the breaking off of her engagement to Prince Andrew (which they +explained by Natasha's having rejected him) and again asked Nicholas +to retire from the army and return home. On receiving this letter, +Nicholas did not even make any attempt to get leave of absence or to +retire from the army, but wrote to his parents that he was sorry +Natasha was ill and her engagement broken off, and that he would do +all he could to meet their wishes. To Sonya he wrote separately. + +"Adored friend of my soul!" he wrote. "Nothing but honor could +keep me from returning to the country. But now, at the commencement of +the campaign, I should feel dishonored, not only in my comrades' +eyes but in my own, if I preferred my own happiness to my love and +duty to the Fatherland. But this shall be our last separation. Believe +me, directly the war is over, if I am still alive and still loved by +you, I will throw up everything and fly to you, to press you forever +to my ardent breast." + +It was, in fact, only the commencement of the campaign that +prevented Rostov from returning home as he had promised and marrying +Sonya. The autumn in Otradnoe with the hunting, and the winter with +the Christmas holidays and Sonya's love, had opened out to him a vista +of tranquil rural joys and peace such as he had never known before, +and which now allured him. "A splendid wife, children, a good pack +of hounds, a dozen leashes of smart borzois, agriculture, neighbors, +service by election..." thought he. But now the campaign was +beginning, and he had to remain with his regiment. And since it had to +be so, Nicholas Rostov, as was natural to him, felt contented with the +life he led in the regiment and was able to find pleasure in that +life. + +On his return from his furlough Nicholas, having been joyfully +welcomed by his comrades, was sent to obtain remounts and brought back +from the Ukraine excellent horses which pleased him and earned him +commendation from his commanders. During his absence he had been +promoted captain, and when the regiment was put on war footing with an +increase in numbers, he was again allotted his old squadron. + +The campaign began, the regiment was moved into Poland on double +pay, new officers arrived, new men and horses, and above all everybody +was infected with the merrily excited mood that goes with the +commencement of a war, and Rostov, conscious of his advantageous +position in the regiment, devoted himself entirely to the pleasures +and interests of military service, though he knew that sooner or later +he would have to relinquish them. + +The troops retired from Vilna for various complicated reasons of +state, political and strategic. Each step of the retreat was +accompanied by a complicated interplay of interests, arguments, and +passions at headquarters. For the Pavlograd hussars, however, the +whole of this retreat during the finest period of summer and with +sufficient supplies was a very simple and agreeable business. + +It was only at headquarters that there was depression, uneasiness, +and intriguing; in the body of the army they did not ask themselves +where they were going or why. If they regretted having to retreat, +it was only because they had to leave billets they had grown +accustomed to, or some pretty young Polish lady. If the thought that +things looked bad chanced to enter anyone's head, he tried to be as +cheerful as befits a good soldier and not to think of the general +trend of affairs, but only of the task nearest to hand. First they +camped gaily before Vilna, making acquaintance with the Polish +landowners, preparing for reviews and being reviewed by the Emperor +and other high commanders. Then came an order to retreat to Sventsyani +and destroy any provisions they could not carry away with them. +Sventsyani was remembered by the hussars only as the drunken camp, a +name the whole army gave to their encampment there, and because many +complaints were made against the troops, who, taking advantage of +the order to collect provisions, took also horses, carriages, and +carpets from the Polish proprietors. Rostov remembered Sventsyani, +because on the first day of their arrival at that small town he +changed his sergeant major and was unable to manage all the drunken +men of his squadron who, unknown to him, had appropriated five barrels +of old beer. From Sventsyani they retired farther and farther to +Drissa, and thence again beyond Drissa, drawing near to the frontier +of Russia proper. + +On the thirteenth of July the Pavlograds took part in a serious +action for the first time. + +On the twelfth of July, on the eve of that action, there was a heavy +storm of rain and hail. In general, the summer of 1812 was +remarkable for its storms. + +The two Pavlograd squadrons were bivouacking on a field of rye, +which was already in ear but had been completely trodden down by +cattle and horses. The rain was descending in torrents, and Rostov, +with a young officer named Ilyin, his protege, was sitting in a +hastily constructed shelter. An officer of their regiment, with long +mustaches extending onto his cheeks, who after riding to the staff had +been overtaken by the rain, entered Rostov's shelter. + +"I have come from the staff, Count. Have you heard of Raevski's +exploit?" + +And the officer gave them details of the Saltanov battle, which he +had heard at the staff. + +Rostov, smoking his pipe and turning his head about as the water +trickled down his neck, listened inattentively, with an occasional +glance at Ilyin, who was pressing close to him. This officer, a lad of +sixteen who had recently joined the regiment, was now in the same +relation to Nicholas that Nicholas had been to Denisov seven years +before. Ilyin tried to imitate Rostov in everything and adored him +as a girl might have done. + +Zdrzhinski, the officer with the long mustache, spoke +grandiloquently of the Saltanov dam being "a Russian Thermopylae," and +of how a deed worthy of antiquity had been performed by General +Raevski. He recounted how Raevski had led his two sons onto the dam +under terrific fire and had charged with them beside him. Rostov heard +the story and not only said nothing to encourage Zdrzhinski's +enthusiasm but, on the contrary, looked like a man ashamed of what +he was hearing, though with no intention of contradicting it. Since +the campaigns of Austerlitz and of 1807 Rostov knew by experience that +men always lie when describing military exploits, as he himself had +done when recounting them; besides that, he had experience enough to +know that nothing happens in war at all as we can imagine or relate +it. And so he did not like Zdrzhinski's tale, nor did he like +Zdrzhinski himself who, with his mustaches extending over his +cheeks, bent low over the face of his hearer, as was his habit, and +crowded Rostov in the narrow shanty. Rostov looked at him in +silence. "In the first place, there must have been such a confusion +and crowding on the dam that was being attacked that if Raevski did +lead his sons there, it could have had no effect except perhaps on +some dozen men nearest to him," thought he, "the rest could not have +seen how or with whom Raevski came onto the dam. And even those who +did see it would not have been much stimulated by it, for what had +they to do with Raevski's tender paternal feelings when their own +skins were in danger? And besides, the fate of the Fatherland did +not depend on whether they took the Saltanov dam or not, as we are +told was the case at Thermopylae. So why should he have made such a +sacrifice? And why expose his own children in the battle? I would +not have taken my brother Petya there, or even Ilyin, who's a stranger +to me but a nice lad, but would have tried to put them somewhere under +cover," Nicholas continued to think, as he listened to Zdrzhinski. But +he did not express his thoughts, for in such matters, too, he had +gained experience. He knew that this tale redounded to the glory of +our arms and so one had to pretend not to doubt it. And he acted +accordingly. + +"I can't stand this any more," said Ilyin, noticing that Rostov +did not relish Zdrzhinski's conversation. "My stockings and shirt... +and the water is running on my seat! I'll go and look for shelter. The +rain seems less heavy." + +Ilyin went out and Zdrzhinski rode away. + +Five minutes later Ilyin, splashing through the mud, came running +back to the shanty. + +"Hurrah! Rostov, come quick! I've found it! About two hundred +yards away there's a tavern where ours have already gathered. We can +at least get dry there, and Mary Hendrikhovna's there." + +Mary Hendrikhovna was the wife of the regimental doctor, a pretty +young German woman he had married in Poland. The doctor, whether +from lack of means or because he did not like to part from his young +wife in the early days of their marriage, took her about with him +wherever the hussar regiment went and his jealousy had become a +standing joke among the hussar officers. + +Rostov threw his cloak over his shoulders, shouted to Lavrushka to +follow with the things, and--now slipping in the mud, now splashing +right through it--set off with Ilyin in the lessening rain and the +darkness that was occasionally rent by distant lightning. + +"Rostov, where are you?" + +"Here. What lightning!" they called to one another. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +In the tavern, before which stood the doctor's covered cart, there +were already some five officers. Mary Hendrikhovna, a plump little +blonde German, in a dressing jacket and nightcap, was sitting on a +broad bench in the front corner. Her husband, the doctor, lay asleep +behind her. Rostov and Ilyin, on entering the room, were welcomed with +merry shouts and laughter. + +"Dear me, how jolly we are!" said Rostov laughing. + +"And why do you stand there gaping?" + +"What swells they are! Why, the water streams from them! Don't +make our drawing room so wet." + +"Don't mess Mary Hendrikhovna's dress!" cried other voices. + +Rostov and Ilyin hastened to find a corner where they could change +into dry clothes without offending Mary Hendrikhovna's modesty. They +were going into a tiny recess behind a partition to change, but +found it completely filled by three officers who sat playing cards +by the light of a solitary candle on an empty box, and these +officers would on no account yield their position. Mary Hendrikhovna +obliged them with the loan of a petticoat to be used as a curtain, and +behind that screen Rostov and Ilyin, helped by Lavrushka who had +brought their kits, changed their wet things for dry ones. + +A fire was made up in the dilapidated brick stove. A board was +found, fixed on two saddles and covered with a horsecloth, a small +samovar was produced and a cellaret and half a bottle of rum, and +having asked Mary Hendrikhovna to preside, they all crowded round her. +One offered her a clean handkerchief to wipe her charming hands, +another spread a jacket under her little feet to keep them from the +damp, another hung his coat over the window to keep out the draft, and +yet another waved the flies off her husband's face, lest he should +wake up. + +"Leave him alone," said Mary Hendrikhovna, smiling timidly and +happily. "He is sleeping well as it is, after a sleepless night." + +"Oh, no, Mary Hendrikhovna," replied the officer, "one must look +after the doctor. Perhaps he'll take pity on me someday, when it comes +to cutting off a leg or an arm for me." + +There were only three tumblers, the water was so muddy that one +could not make out whether the tea was strong or weak, and the samovar +held only six tumblers of water, but this made it all the pleasanter +to take turns in order of seniority to receive one's tumbler from Mary +Hendrikhovna's plump little hands with their short and not overclean +nails. All the officers appeared to be, and really were, in love +with her that evening. Even those playing cards behind the partition +soon left their game and came over to the samovar, yielding to the +general mood of courting Mary Hendrikhovna. She, seeing herself +surrounded by such brilliant and polite young men, beamed with +satisfaction, try as she might to hide it, and perturbed as she +evidently was each time her husband moved in his sleep behind her. + +There was only one spoon, sugar was more plentiful than anything +else, but it took too long to dissolve, so it was decided that Mary +Hendrikhovna should stir the sugar for everyone in turn. Rostov +received his tumbler, and adding some rum to it asked Mary +Hendrikhovna to stir it. + +"But you take it without sugar?" she said, smiling all the time, +as if everything she said and everything the others said was very +amusing and had a double meaning. + +"It is not the sugar I want, but only that your little hand should +stir my tea." + +Mary Hendrikhovna assented and began looking for the spoon which +someone meanwhile had pounced on. + +"Use your finger, Mary Hendrikhovna, it will be still nicer," said +Rostov. + +"Too hot!" she replied, blushing with pleasure. + +Ilyin put a few drops of rum into the bucket of water and brought it +to Mary Hendrikhovna, asking her to stir it with her finger. + +"This is my cup," said he. "Only dip your finger in it and I'll +drink it all up." + +When they had emptied the samovar, Rostov took a pack of cards and +proposed that they should play "Kings" with Mary Hendrikhovna. They +drew lots to settle who should make up her set. At Rostov's suggestion +it was agreed that whoever became "King" should have the right to kiss +Mary Hendrikhovna's hand, and that the "Booby" should go to refill and +reheat the samovar for the doctor when the latter awoke. + +"Well, but supposing Mary Hendrikhovna is 'King'?" asked Ilyin. + +"As it is, she is Queen, and her word is law!" + +They had hardly begun to play before the doctor's disheveled head +suddenly appeared from behind Mary Hendrikhovna. He had been awake for +some time, listening to what was being said, and evidently found +nothing entertaining or amusing in what was going on. His face was sad +and depressed. Without greeting the officers, he scratched himself and +asked to be allowed to pass as they were blocking the way. As soon +as he had left the room all the officers burst into loud laughter +and Mary Hendrikhovna blushed till her eyes filled with tears and +thereby became still more attractive to them. Returning from the yard, +the doctor told his wife (who had ceased to smile so happily, and +looked at him in alarm, awaiting her sentence) that the rain had +ceased and they must go to sleep in their covered cart, or +everything in it would be stolen. + +"But I'll send an orderly.... Two of them!" said Rostov. "What an +idea, doctor!" + +"I'll stand guard on it myself!" said Ilyin. + +"No, gentlemen, you have had your sleep, but I have not slept for +two nights," replied the doctor, and he sat down morosely beside his +wife, waiting for the game to end. + +Seeing his gloomy face as he frowned at his wife, the officers +grew still merrier, and some of them could not refrain from +laughter, for which they hurriedly sought plausible pretexts. When +he had gone, taking his wife with him, and had settled down with her +in their covered cart, the officers lay down in the tavern, covering +themselves with their wet cloaks, but they did not sleep for a long +time; now they exchanged remarks, recalling the doctor's uneasiness +and his wife's delight, now they ran out into the porch and reported +what was taking place in the covered trap. Several times Rostov, +covering his head, tried to go to sleep, but some remark would +arouse him and conversation would be resumed, to the accompaniment +of unreasoning, merry, childlike laughter. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +It was nearly three o'clock but no one was yet asleep, when the +quartermaster appeared with an order to move on to the little town +of Ostrovna. Still laughing and talking, the officers began +hurriedly getting ready and again boiled some muddy water +in the samovar. But Rostov went off to his squadron without waiting +for tea. Day was breaking, the rain had ceased, and the clouds were +dispersing. It felt damp and cold, especially in clothes that were +still moist. As they left the tavern in the twilight of the dawn, +Rostov and Ilyin both glanced under the wet and glistening leather +hood of the doctor's cart, from under the apron of which his feet were +sticking out, and in the middle of which his wife's nightcap was +visible and her sleepy breathing audible. + +"She really is a dear little thing," said Rostov to Ilyin, who was +following him. + +"A charming woman!" said Ilyin, with all the gravity of a boy of +sixteen. + +Half an hour later the squadron was lined up on the road. The +command was heard to "mount" and the soldiers crossed themselves and +mounted. Rostov riding in front gave the order "Forward!" and the +hussars, with clanking sabers and subdued talk, their horses' hoofs +splashing in the mud, defiled in fours and moved along the broad +road planted with birch trees on each side, following the infantry and +a battery that had gone on in front. + +Tattered, blue-purple clouds, reddening in the east, were scudding +before the wind. It was growing lighter and lighter. That curly +grass which always grows by country roadsides became clearly +visible, still wet with the night's rain; the drooping branches of the +birches, also wet, swayed in the wind and flung down bright drops of +water to one side. The soldiers' faces were more and more clearly +visible. Rostov, always closely followed by Ilyin, rode along the side +of the road between two rows of birch trees. + +When campaigning, Rostov allowed himself the indulgence of riding +not a regimental but a Cossack horse. A judge of horses and a +sportsman, he had lately procured himself a large, fine, mettlesome, +Donets horse, dun-colored, with light mane and tail, and when he +rode it no one could outgallop him. To ride this horse was a +pleasure to him, and he thought of the horse, of the morning, of the +doctor's wife, but not once of the impending danger. + +Formerly, when going into action, Rostov had felt afraid; now he had +not the least feeling of fear. He was fearless, not because he had +grown used to being under fire (one cannot grow used to danger), but +because he had learned how to manage his thoughts when in danger. He +had grown accustomed when going into action to think about anything +but what would seem most likely to interest him--the impending danger. +During the first period of his service, hard as he tried and much as +he reproached himself with cowardice, he had not been able to do this, +but with time it had come of itself. Now he rode beside Ilyin under +the birch trees, occasionally plucking leaves from a branch that met +his hand, sometimes touching his horse's side with his foot, or, +without turning round, handing a pipe he had finished to an hussar +riding behind him, with as calm and careless an air as though he +were merely out for a ride. He glanced with pity at the excited face +of Ilyin, who talked much and in great agitation. He knew from +experience the tormenting expectation of terror and death the cornet +was suffering and knew that only time could help him. + +As soon as the sun appeared in a clear strip of sky beneath the +clouds, the wind fell, as if it dared not spoil the beauty of the +summer morning after the storm; drops still continued to fall, but +vertically now, and all was still. The whole sun appeared on the +horizon and disappeared behind a long narrow cloud that hung above it. +A few minutes later it reappeared brighter still from behind the top +of the cloud, tearing its edge. Everything grew bright and +glittered. And with that light, and as if in reply to it, came the +sound of guns ahead of them. + +Before Rostov had had time to consider and determine the distance of +that firing, Count Ostermann-Tolstoy's adjutant came galloping from +Vitebsk with orders to advance at a trot along the road. + +The squadron overtook and passed the infantry and the battery--which +had also quickened their pace--rode down a hill, and passing through +an empty and deserted village again ascended. The horses began to +lather and the men to flush. + +"Halt! Dress your ranks!" the order of the regimental commander +was heard ahead. "Forward by the left. Walk, march!" came the order +from in front. + +And the hussars, passing along the line of troops on the left +flank of our position, halted behind our Uhlans who were in the +front line. To the right stood our infantry in a dense column: they +were the reserve. Higher up the hill, on the very horizon, our guns +were visible through the wonderfully clear air, brightly illuminated +by slanting morning sunbeams. In front, beyond a hollow dale, could be +seen the enemy's columns and guns. Our advanced line, already in +action, could be heard briskly exchanging shots with the enemy in +the dale. + +At these sounds, long unheard, Rostov's spirits rose, as at the +strains of the merriest music. Trap-ta-ta-tap! cracked the shots, +now together, now several quickly one after another. Again all was +silent and then again it sounded as if someone were walking on +detonators and exploding them. + +The hussars remained in the same place for about an hour. A +cannonade began. Count Ostermann with his suite rode up behind the +squadron, halted, spoke to the commander of the regiment, and rode +up the hill to the guns. + +After Ostermann had gone, a command rang out to the Uhlans. + +"Form column! Prepare to charge!" + +The infantry in front of them parted into platoons to allow the +cavalry to pass. The Uhlans started, the streamers on their spears +fluttering, and trotted downhill toward the French cavalry which was +seen below to the left. + +As soon as the Uhlans descended the hill, the hussars were ordered +up the hill to support the battery. As they took the places vacated by +the Uhlans, bullets came from the front, whining and whistling, but +fell spent without taking effect. + +The sounds, which he had not heard for so long, had an even more +pleasurable and exhilarating effect on Rostov than the previous sounds +of firing. Drawing himself up, he viewed the field of battle opening +out before him from the hill, and with his whole soul followed the +movement of the Uhlans. They swooped down close to the French +dragoons, something confused happened there amid the smoke, and five +minutes later our Uhlans were galloping back, not to the place they +had occupied but more to the left, and among the orange-colored Uhlans +on chestnut horses and behind them, in a large group, blue French +dragoons on gray horses could be seen. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Rostov, with his keen sportsman's eye, was one of the first to catch +sight of these blue French dragoons pursuing our Uhlans. Nearer and +nearer in disorderly crowds came the Uhlans and the French dragoons +pursuing them. He could already see how these men, who looked so small +at the foot of the hill, jostled and overtook one another, waving +their arms and their sabers in the air. + +Rostov gazed at what was happening before him as at a hunt. He +felt instinctively that if the hussars struck at the French dragoons +now, the latter could not withstand them, but if a charge was to be +made it must be done now, at that very moment, or it would be too +late. He looked around. A captain, standing beside him, was gazing +like himself with eyes fixed on the cavalry below them. + +"Andrew Sevastyanych!" said Rostov. "You know, we could crush +them...." + +"A fine thing too!" replied the captain, "and really..." + +Rostov, without waiting to hear him out, touched his horse, galloped +to the front of his squadron, and before he had time to finish +giving the word of command, the whole squadron, sharing his feeling, +was following him. Rostov himself did not know how or why he did it. +He acted as he did when hunting, without reflecting or considering. He +saw the dragoons near and that they were galloping in disorder; he +knew they could not withstand an attack--knew there was only that +moment and that if he let it slip it would not return. The bullets +were whining and whistling so stimulatingly around him and his horse +was so eager to go that he could not restrain himself. He touched +his horse, gave the word of command, and immediately, hearing behind +him the tramp of the horses of his deployed squadron, rode at full +trot downhill toward the dragoons. Hardly had they reached the +bottom of the hill before their pace instinctively changed to a +gallop, which grew faster and faster as they drew nearer to our Uhlans +and the French dragoons who galloped after them. The dragoons were now +close at hand. On seeing the hussars, the foremost began to turn, +while those behind began to halt. With the same feeling with which +he had galloped across the path of a wolf, Rostov gave rein to his +Donets horse and galloped to intersect the path of the dragoons' +disordered lines. One Uhlan stopped, another who was on foot flung +himself to the ground to avoid being knocked over, and a riderless +horse fell in among the hussars. Nearly all the French dragoons were +galloping back. Rostov, picking out one on a gray horse, dashed +after him. On the way he came upon a bush, his gallant horse cleared +it, and almost before he had righted himself in his saddle he saw that +he would immediately overtake the enemy he had selected. That +Frenchman, by his uniform an officer, was going at a gallop, crouching +on his gray horse and urging it on with his saber. In another moment +Rostov's horse dashed its breast against the hindquarters of the +officer's horse, almost knocking it over, and at the same instant +Rostov, without knowing why, raised his saber and struck the Frenchman +with it. + +The instant he had done this, all Rostov's animation vanished. The +officer fell, not so much from the blow--which had but slightly cut +his arm above the elbow--as from the shock to his horse and from +fright. Rostov reined in his horse, and his eyes sought his foe to see +whom he had vanquished. The French dragoon officer was hopping with +one foot on the ground, the other being caught in the stirrup. His +eyes, screwed up with fear as if he every moment expected another +blow, gazed up at Rostov with shrinking terror. His pale and +mud-stained face--fair and young, with a dimple in the chin and +light-blue eyes--was not an enemy's face at all suited to a +battlefield, but a most ordinary, homelike face. Before Rostov had +decided what to do with him, the officer cried, "I surrender!" He +hurriedly but vainly tried to get his foot out of the stirrup and +did not remove his frightened blue eyes from Rostov's face. Some +hussars who galloped up disengaged his foot and helped him into the +saddle. On all sides, the hussars were busy with the dragoons; one was +wounded, but though his face was bleeding, he would not give up his +horse; another was perched up behind an hussar with his arms round +him; a third was being helped by an hussar to mount his horse. In +front, the French infantry were firing as they ran. The hussars +galloped hastily back with their prisoners. Rostov galloped back +with the rest, aware of an unpleasant feeling of depression in his +heart. Something vague and confused, which he could not at all account +for, had come over him with the capture of that officer and the blow +he had dealt him. + +Count Ostermann-Tolstoy met the returning hussars, sent for +Rostov, thanked him, and said he would report his gallant deed to +the Emperor and would recommend him for a St. George's Cross. When +sent for by Count Ostermann, Rostov, remembering that he had charged +without orders, felt sure his commander was sending for him to +punish him for breach of discipline. Ostermann's flattering words +and promise of a reward should therefore have struck him all the +more pleasantly, but he still felt that same vaguely disagreeable +feeling of moral nausea. "But what on earth is worrying me?" he +asked himself as he rode back from the general. "Ilyin? No, he's safe. +Have I disgraced myself in any way? No, that's not it." Something +else, resembling remorse, tormented him. "Yes, oh yes, that French +officer with the dimple. And I remember how my arm paused when I +raised it." + +Rostov saw the prisoners being led away and galloped after them to +have a look at his Frenchman with the dimple on his chin. He was +sitting in his foreign uniform on an hussar packhorse and looked +anxiously about him; The sword cut on his arm could scarcely be called +a wound. He glanced at Rostov with a feigned smile and waved his +hand in greeting. Rostov still had the same indefinite feeling, as +of shame. + +All that day and the next his friends and comrades noticed that +Rostov, without being dull or angry, was silent, thoughtful, and +preoccupied. He drank reluctantly, tried to remain alone, and kept +turning something over in his mind. + +Rostov was always thinking about that brilliant exploit of his, which +to his amazement had gained him the St. George's Cross and even given +him a reputation for bravery, and there was something he could not at +all understand. "So others are even more afraid than I am!" he +thought. "So that's all there is in what is called heroism! And did I +do it for my country's sake? And how was he to blame, with his dimple +and blue eyes? And how frightened he was! He thought that I should +kill him. Why should I kill him? My hand trembled. And they have given +me a St. George's Cross.... I can't make it out at all." + +But while Nicholas was considering these questions and still could +reach no clear solution of what puzzled him so, the wheel of fortune +in the service, as often happens, turned in his favor. After the +affair at Ostrovna he was brought into notice, received command of +an hussar battalion, and when a brave officer was needed he was +chosen. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +On receiving news of Natasha's illness, the countess, though not +quite well yet and still weak, went to Moscow with Petya and the +rest of the household, and the whole family moved from Marya +Dmitrievna's house to their own and settled down in town. + +Natasha's illness was so serious that, fortunately for her and for +her parents, the consideration of all that had caused the illness, her +conduct and the breaking off of her engagement, receded into the +background. She was so ill that it was impossible for them to consider +in how far she was to blame for what had happened. She could not eat +or sleep, grew visibly thinner, coughed, and, as the doctors made them +feel, was in danger. They could not think of anything but how to +help her. Doctors came to see her singly and in consultation, talked +much in French, German, and Latin, blamed one another, and +prescribed a great variety of medicines for all the diseases known +to them, but the simple idea never occurred to any of them that they +could not know the disease Natasha was suffering from, as no disease +suffered by a live man can be known, for every living person has his +own peculiarities and always has his own peculiar, personal, novel, +complicated disease, unknown to medicine--not a disease of the +lungs, liver, skin, heart, nerves, and so on mentioned in medical +books, but a disease consisting of one of the innumerable combinations +of the maladies of those organs. This simple thought could not occur +to the doctors (as it cannot occur to a wizard that he is unable to +work his charms) because the business of their lives was to cure, +and they received money for it and had spent the best years of their +lives on that business. But, above all, that thought was kept out of +their minds by the fact that they saw they were really useful, as in +fact they were to the whole Rostov family. Their usefulness did not +depend on making the patient swallow substances for the most part +harmful (the harm was scarcely perceptible, as they were given in +small doses), but they were useful, necessary, and indispensable +because they satisfied a mental need of the invalid and of those who +loved her--and that is why there are, and always will be, +pseudo-healers, wise women, homeopaths, and allopaths. They +satisfied that eternal human need for hope of relief, for sympathy, +and that something should be done, which is felt by those who are +suffering. They satisfied the need seen in its most elementary form in +a child, when it wants to have a place rubbed that has been hurt. A +child knocks itself and runs at once to the arms of its mother or +nurse to have the aching spot rubbed or kissed, and it feels better +when this is done. The child cannot believe that the strongest and +wisest of its people have no remedy for its pain, and the hope of +relief and the expression of its mother's sympathy while she rubs +the bump comforts it. The doctors were of use to Natasha because +they kissed and rubbed her bump, assuring her that it would soon +pass if only the coachman went to the chemist's in the Arbat and got a +powder and some pills in a pretty box for a ruble and seventy kopeks, +and if she took those powders in boiled water at intervals of +precisely two hours, neither more nor less. + +What would Sonya and the count and countess have done, how would +they have looked, if nothing had been done, if there had not been +those pills to give by the clock, the warm drinks, the chicken +cutlets, and all the other details of life ordered by the doctors, the +carrying out of which supplied an occupation and consolation to the +family circle? How would the count have borne his dearly loved +daughter's illness had he not known that it was costing him a thousand +rubles, and that he would not grudge thousands more to benefit her, or +had he not known that if her illness continued he would not grudge yet +other thousands and would take her abroad for consultations there, and +had he not been able to explain the details of how Metivier and Feller +had not understood the symptoms, but Frise had, and Mudrov had +diagnosed them even better? What would the countess have done had +she not been able sometimes to scold the invalid for not strictly +obeying the doctor's orders? + +"You'll never get well like that," she would say, forgetting her +grief in her vexation, "if you won't obey the doctor and take your +medicine at the right time! You mustn't trifle with it, you know, or +it may turn to pneumonia," she would go on, deriving much comfort from +the utterance of that foreign word, incomprehensible to others as well +as to herself. + +What would Sonya have done without the glad consciousness that she +had not undressed during the first three nights, in order to be +ready to carry out all the doctor's injunctions with precision, and +that she still kept awake at night so as not to miss the proper time +when the slightly harmful pills in the little gilt box had to be +administered? Even to Natasha herself it was pleasant to see that so +many sacrifices were being made for her sake, and to know that she had +to take medicine at certain hours, though she declared that no +medicine would cure her and that it was all nonsense. And it was +even pleasant to be able to show, by disregarding the orders, that she +did not believe in medical treatment and did not value her life. + +The doctor came every day, felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, and +regardless of her grief-stricken face joked with her. But when he +had gone into another room, to which the countess hurriedly followed +him, he assumed a grave air and thoughtfully shaking his head said +that though there was danger, he had hopes of the effect of this +last medicine and one must wait and see, that the malady was chiefly +mental, but... And the countess, trying to conceal the action from +herself and from him, slipped a gold coin into his hand and always +returned to the patient with a more tranquil mind. + +The symptoms of Natasha's illness were that she ate little, slept +little, coughed, and was always low-spirited. The doctors said that +she could not get on without medical treatment, so they kept her in +the stifling atmosphere of the town, and the Rostovs did not move to +the country that summer of 1812. + +In spite of the many pills she swallowed and the drops and powders +out of the little bottles and boxes of which Madame Schoss who was +fond of such things made a large collection, and in spite of being +deprived of the country life to which she was accustomed, youth +prevailed. Natasha's grief began to be overlaid by the impressions +of daily life, it ceased to press so painfully on her heart, it +gradually faded into the past, and she began to recover physically. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Natasha was calmer but no happier. She not merely avoided all external +forms of pleasure--balls, promenades, concerts, and theaters--but she +never laughed without a sound of tears in her laughter. She could not +sing. As soon as she began to laugh, or tried to sing by herself, +tears choked her: tears of remorse, tears at the recollection of those +pure times which could never return, tears of vexation that she should +so uselessly have ruined her young life which might have been so +happy. Laughter and singing in particular seemed to her like a +blasphemy, in face of her sorrow. Without any need of self-restraint, +no wish to coquet ever entered her head. She said and felt at that +time that no man was more to her than Nastasya Ivanovna, the buffoon. +Something stood sentinel within her and forbade her every joy. +Besides, she had lost all the old interests of her carefree girlish +life that had been so full of hope. The previous autumn, the hunting, +"Uncle," and the Christmas holidays spent with Nicholas at Otradnoe +were what she recalled oftenest and most painfully. What would she not +have given to bring back even a single day of that time! But it was +gone forever. Her presentiment at the time had not deceived her--that +that state of freedom and readiness for any enjoyment would not return +again. Yet it was necessary to live on. + +It comforted her to reflect that she was not better as she had +formerly imagined, but worse, much worse, than anybody else in the +world. But this was not enough. She knew that, and asked herself, +"What next?" But there was nothing to come. There was no joy in +life, yet life was passing. Natasha apparently tried not to be a +burden or a hindrance to anyone, but wanted nothing for herself. She +kept away from everyone in the house and felt at ease only with her +brother Petya. She liked to be with him better than with the others, +and when alone with him she sometimes laughed. She hardly ever left +the house and of those who came to see them was glad to see only one +person, Pierre. It would have been impossible to treat her with more +delicacy, greater care, and at the same time more seriously than did +Count Bezukhov. Natasha unconsciously felt this delicacy and so +found great pleasure in his society. But she was not even grateful +to him for it; nothing good on Pierre's part seemed to her to be an +effort, it seemed so natural for him to be kind to everyone that there +was no merit in his kindness. Sometimes Natasha noticed +embarrassment and awkwardness on his part in her presence, +especially when he wanted to do something to please her, or feared +that something they spoke of would awaken memories distressing to her. +She noticed this and attributed it to his general kindness and +shyness, which she imagined must be the same toward everyone as it was +to her. After those involuntary words--that if he were free he would +have asked on his knees for her hand and her love--uttered at a moment +when she was so strongly agitated, Pierre never spoke to Natasha of +his feelings; and it seemed plain to her that those words, which had +then so comforted her, were spoken as all sorts of meaningless words +are spoken to comfort a crying child. It was not because Pierre was +a married man, but because Natasha felt very strongly with him that +moral barrier the absence of which she had experienced with Kuragin +that it never entered her head that the relations between him and +herself could lead to love on her part, still less on his, or even +to the kind of tender, self-conscious, romantic friendship between a +man and a woman of which she had known several instances. + +Before the end of the fast of St. Peter, Agrafena Ivanovna Belova, a +country neighbor of the Rostovs, came to Moscow to pay her devotions +at the shrines of the Moscow saints. She suggested that Natasha should +fast and prepare for Holy Communion, and Natasha gladly welcomed the +idea. Despite the doctor's orders that she should not go out early +in the morning, Natasha insisted on fasting and preparing for the +sacrament, not as they generally prepared for it in the Rostov +family by attending three services in their own house, but as Agrafena +Ivanovna did, by going to church every day for a week and not once +missing Vespers, Matins, or Mass. + +The countess was pleased with Natasha's zeal; after the poor results +of the medical treatment, in the depths of her heart she hoped that +prayer might help her daughter more than medicines and, though not +without fear and concealing it from the doctor, she agreed to +Natasha's wish and entrusted her to Belova. Agrafena Ivanovna used +to come to wake Natasha at three in the morning, but generally found +her already awake. She was afraid of being late for Matins. Hastily +washing, and meekly putting on her shabbiest dress and an old +mantilla, Natasha, shivering in the fresh air, went out into the +deserted streets lit by the clear light of dawn. By Agrafena +Ivanovna's advice Natasha prepared herself not in their own parish, +but at a church where, according to the devout Agrafena Ivanovna, +the priest was a man of very severe and lofty life. There were never +many people in the church; Natasha always stood beside Belova in the +customary place before an icon of the Blessed Virgin, let into the +screen before the choir on the left side, and a feeling, new to her, +of humility before something great and incomprehensible, seized her +when at that unusual morning hour, gazing at the dark face of the +Virgin illuminated by the candles burning before it and by the morning +light falling from the window, she listened to the words of the +service which she tried to follow with understanding. When she +understood them her personal feeling became interwoven in the +prayers with shades of its own. When she did not understand, it was +sweeter still to think that the wish to understand everything is +pride, that it is impossible to understand all, that it is only +necessary to believe and to commit oneself to God, whom she felt +guiding her soul at those moments. She crossed herself, bowed low, and +when she did not understand, in horror at her own vileness, simply +asked God to forgive her everything, everything, to have mercy upon +her. The prayers to which she surrendered herself most of all were +those of repentance. On her way home at an early hour when she met +no one but bricklayers going to work or men sweeping the street, and +everybody within the houses was still asleep, Natasha experienced a +feeling new to her, a sense of the possibility of correcting her +faults, the possibility of a new, clean life, and of happiness. + +During the whole week she spent in this way, that feeling grew every +day. And the happiness of taking communion, or "communing" as Agrafena +Ivanovna, joyously playing with the word, called it, seemed to Natasha +so great that she felt she should never live till that blessed Sunday. + +But the happy day came, and on that memorable Sunday, when, +dressed in white muslin, she returned home after communion, for the +first time for many months she felt calm and not oppressed by the +thought of the life that lay before her. + +The doctor who came to see her that day ordered her to continue +the powders he had prescribed a fortnight previously. + +"She must certainly go on taking them morning and evening," said he, +evidently sincerely satisfied with his success. "Only, please be +particular about it. + +"Be quite easy," he continued playfully, as he adroitly took the +gold coin in his palm. "She will soon be singing and frolicking about. +The last medicine has done her a very great deal of good. She has +freshened up very much." + +The countess, with a cheerful expression on her face, looked down at +her nails and spat a little for luck as she returned to the drawing +room. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +At the beginning of July more and more disquieting reports about the +war began to spread in Moscow; people spoke of an appeal by the +Emperor to the people, and of his coming himself from the army to +Moscow. And as up to the eleventh of July no manifesto or appeal had +been received, exaggerated reports became current about them and about +the position of Russia. It was said that the Emperor was leaving the +army because it was in danger, it was said that Smolensk had +surrendered, that Napoleon had an army of a million and only a miracle +could save Russia. + +On the eleventh of July, which was Saturday, the manifesto was +received but was not yet in print, and Pierre, who was at the +Rostovs', promised to come to dinner next day, Sunday, and bring a +copy of the manifesto and appeal, which he would obtain from Count +Rostopchin. + +That Sunday, the Rostovs went to Mass at the Razumovskis' private +chapel as usual. It was a hot July day. Even at ten o'clock, when +the Rostovs got out of their carriage at the chapel, the sultry air, +the shouts of hawkers, the light and gay summer clothes of the +crowd, the dusty leaves of the trees on the boulevard, the sounds of +the band and the white trousers of a battalion marching to parade, the +rattling of wheels on the cobblestones, and the brilliant, hot +sunshine were all full of that summer languor, that content and +discontent with the present, which is most strongly felt on a +bright, hot day in town. All the Moscow notabilities, all the Rostovs' +acquaintances, were at the Razumovskis' chapel, for, as if expecting +something to happen, many wealthy families who usually left town for +their country estates had not gone away that summer. As Natasha, at +her mother's side, passed through the crowd behind a liveried +footman who cleared the way for them, she heard a young man speaking +about her in too loud a whisper. + +"That's Rostova, the one who..." + +"She's much thinner, but all the same she's pretty!" + +She heard, or thought she heard, the names of Kuragin and Bolkonski. +But she was always imagining that. It always seemed to her that +everyone who looked at her was thinking only of what had happened to +her. With a sinking heart, wretched as she always was now when she +found herself in a crowd, Natasha in her lilac silk dress trimmed with +black lace walked--as women can walk--with the more repose and +stateliness the greater the pain and shame in her soul. She knew for +certain that she was pretty, but this no longer gave her +satisfaction as it used to. On the contrary it tormented her more than +anything else of late, and particularly so on this bright, hot +summer day in town. "It's Sunday again--another week past," she +thought, recalling that she had been here the Sunday before, "and +always the same life that is no life, and the same surroundings in +which it used to be so easy to live. I'm pretty, I'm young, and I know +that now I am good. I used to be bad, but now I know I am good," she +thought, "but yet my best years are slipping by and are no good to +anyone." She stood by her mother's side and exchanged nods with +acquaintances near her. From habit she scrutinized the ladies' +dresses, condemned the bearing of a lady standing close by who was not +crossing herself properly but in a cramped manner, and again she +thought with vexation that she was herself being judged and was +judging others, and suddenly, at the sound of the service, she felt +horrified at her own vileness, horrified that the former purity of her +soul was again lost to her. + +A comely, fresh-looking old man was conducting the service with that +mild solemnity which has so elevating and soothing an effect on the +souls of the worshipers. The gates of the sanctuary screen were +closed, the curtain was slowly drawn, and from behind it a soft +mysterious voice pronounced some words. Tears, the cause of which +she herself did not understand, made Natasha's breast heave, and a +joyous but oppressive feeling agitated her. + +"Teach me what I should do, how to live my life, how I may grow good +forever, forever!" she pleaded. + +The deacon came out onto the raised space before the altar screen +and, holding his thumb extended, drew his long hair from under his +dalmatic and, making the sign of the cross on his breast, began in a +loud and solemn voice to recite the words of the prayer... + +"In peace let us pray unto the Lord." + +"As one community, without distinction of class, without enmity, +united by brotherly love--let us pray!" thought Natasha. + +"For the peace that is from above, and for the salvation of our +souls." + +"For the world of angels and all the spirits who dwell above us," +prayed Natasha. + +When they prayed for the warriors, she thought of her brother and +Denisov. When they prayed for all traveling by land and sea, she +remembered Prince Andrew, prayed for him, and asked God to forgive her +all the wrongs she had done him. When they prayed for those who love +us, she prayed for the members of her own family, her father and +mother and Sonya, realizing for the first time how wrongly she had +acted toward them, and feeling all the strength of her love for +them. When they prayed for those who hate us, she tried to think of +her enemies and people who hated her, in order to pray for them. She +included among her enemies the creditors and all who had business +dealings with her father, and always at the thought of enemies and +those who hated her she remembered Anatole who had done her so much +harm--and though he did not hate her she gladly prayed for him as +for an enemy. Only at prayer did she feel able to think clearly and +calmly of Prince Andrew and Anatole, as men for whom her feelings were +as nothing compared with her awe and devotion to God. When they prayed +for the Imperial family and the Synod, she bowed very low and made the +sign of the cross, saying to herself that even if she did not +understand, still she could not doubt, and at any rate loved the +governing Synod and prayed for it. + +When he had finished the Litany the deacon crossed the stole over +his breast and said, "Let us commit ourselves and our whole lives to +Christ the Lord!" + +"Commit ourselves to God," Natasha inwardly repeated. "Lord God, I +submit myself to Thy will!" she thought. "I want nothing, wish for +nothing; teach me what to do and how to use my will! Take me, take +me!" prayed Natasha, with impatient emotion in her heart, not crossing +herself but letting her slender arms hang down as if expecting some +invisible power at any moment to take her and deliver her from +herself, from her regrets, desires, remorse, hopes, and sins. + +The countess looked round several times at her daughter's softened +face and shining eyes and prayed God to help her. + +Unexpectedly, in the middle of the service, and not in the usual +order Natasha knew so well, the deacon brought out a small stool, +the one he knelt on when praying on Trinity Sunday, and placed it +before the doors of the sanctuary screen. The priest came out with his +purple velvet biretta on his head, adjusted his hair, and knelt down +with an effort. Everybody followed his example and they looked at +one another in surprise. Then came the prayer just received from the +Synod--a prayer for the deliverance of Russia from hostile invasion. + +"Lord God of might, God of our salvation!" began the priest in +that voice, clear, not grandiloquent but mild, in which only the +Slav clergy read and which acts so irresistibly on a Russian heart. + +"Lord God of might, God of our salvation! Look this day in mercy and +blessing on Thy humble people, and graciously hear us, spare us, and +have mercy upon us! This foe confounding Thy land, desiring to lay +waste the whole world, rises against us; these lawless men are +gathered together to overthrow Thy kingdom, to destroy Thy dear +Jerusalem, Thy beloved Russia; to defile Thy temples, to overthrow +Thine altars, and to desecrate our holy shrines. How long, O Lord, how +long shall the wicked triumph? How long shall they wield unlawful +power? + +"Lord God! Hear us when we pray to Thee; strengthen with Thy might +our most gracious sovereign lord, the Emperor Alexander Pavlovich; +be mindful of his uprightness and meekness, reward him according to +his righteousness, and let it preserve us, Thy chosen Israel! Bless +his counsels, his undertakings, and his work; strengthen his kingdom +by Thine almighty hand, and give him victory over his enemy, even as +Thou gavest Moses the victory over Amalek, Gideon over Midian, and +David over Goliath. Preserve his army, put a bow of brass in the hands +of those who have armed themselves in Thy Name, and gird their loins +with strength for the fight. Take up the spear and shield and arise to +help us; confound and put to shame those who have devised evil against +us, may they be before the faces of Thy faithful warriors as dust +before the wind, and may Thy mighty Angel confound them and put them +to flight; may they be ensnared when they know it not, and may the +plots they have laid in secret be turned against them; let them fall +before Thy servants' feet and be laid low by our hosts! Lord, Thou art +able to save both great and small; Thou art God, and man cannot +prevail against Thee! + +"God of our fathers! Remember Thy bounteous mercy and +loving-kindness which are from of old; turn not Thy face from us, +but be gracious to our unworthiness, and in Thy great goodness and Thy +many mercies regard not our transgressions and iniquities! Create in +us a clean heart and renew a right spirit within us, strengthen us all +in Thy faith, fortify our hope, inspire us with true love one for +another, arm us with unity of spirit in the righteous defense of the +heritage Thou gavest to us and to our fathers, and let not the scepter +of the wicked be exalted against the destiny of those Thou hast +sanctified. + +"O Lord our God, in whom we believe and in whom we put our trust, +let us not be confounded in our hope of Thy mercy, and give us a token +of Thy blessing, that those who hate us and our Orthodox faith may see +it and be put to shame and perish, and may all the nations know that +Thou art the Lord and we are Thy people. Show Thy mercy upon us this +day, O Lord, and grant us Thy salvation; make the hearts of Thy +servants to rejoice in Thy mercy; smite down our enemies and destroy +them swiftly beneath the feet of Thy faithful servants! For Thou art +the defense, the succor, and the victory of them that put their +trust in Thee, and to Thee be all glory, to Father, Son, and Holy +Ghost, now and forever, world without end. Amen." + +In Natasha's receptive condition of soul this prayer affected her +strongly. She listened to every word about the victory of Moses over +Amalek, of Gideon over Midian, and of David over Goliath, and about +the destruction of "Thy Jerusalem," and she prayed to God with the +tenderness and emotion with which her heart was overflowing, but +without fully understanding what she was asking of God in that prayer. +She shared with all her heart in the prayer for the spirit of +righteousness, for the strengthening of the heart by faith and hope, +and its animation by love. But she could not pray that her enemies +might be trampled under foot when but a few minutes before she had +been wishing she had more of them that she might pray for them. But +neither could she doubt the righteousness of the prayer that was being +read on bended knees. She felt in her heart a devout and tremulous awe +at the thought of the punishment that overtakes men for their sins, +and especially of her own sins, and she prayed to God to forgive +them all, and her too, and to give them all, and her too, peace and +happiness. And it seemed to her that God heard her prayer. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +From the day when Pierre, after leaving the Rostovs' with +Natasha's grateful look fresh in his mind, had gazed at the comet that +seemed to be fixed in the sky and felt that something new was +appearing on his own horizon--from that day the problem of the +vanity and uselessness of all earthly things, that had incessantly +tormented him, no longer presented itself. That terrible question +"Why?" "Wherefore?" which had come to him amid every occupation, was +now replaced, not by another question or by a reply to the former +question, but by her image. When he listened to, or himself took +part in, trivial conversations, when he read or heard of human +baseness or folly, he was not horrified as formerly, and did not ask +himself why men struggled so about these things when all is so +transient and incomprehensible--but he remembered her as he had last +seen her, and all his doubts vanished--not because she had answered +the questions that had haunted him, but because his conception of +her transferred him instantly to another, a brighter, realm of +spiritual activity in which no one could be justified or guilty--a +realm of beauty and love which it was worth living for. Whatever +worldly baseness presented itself to him, he said to himself: + +"Well, supposing N. N. swindled the country and the Tsar, and the +country and the Tsar confer honors upon him, what does that matter? +She smiled at me yesterday and asked me to come again, and I love her, +and no one will ever know it." And his soul felt calm and peaceful. + +Pierre still went into society, drank as much and led the same +idle and dissipated life, because besides the hours he spent at the +Rostovs' there were other hours he had to spend somehow, and the +habits and acquaintances he had made in Moscow formed a current that +bore him along irresistibly. But latterly, when more and more +disquieting reports came from the seat of war and Natasha's health +began to improve and she no longer aroused in him the former feeling +of careful pity, an ever-increasing restlessness, which he could not +explain, took possession of him. He felt that the condition he was +in could not continue long, that a catastrophe was coming which +would change his whole life, and he impatiently sought everywhere +for signs of that approaching catastrophe. One of his brother Masons +had revealed to Pierre the following prophecy concerning Napoleon, +drawn from the Revelation of St. John. + +In chapter 13, verse 18, of the Apocalypse, it is said: + + +Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number +of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six +hundred threescore and six. + +And in the fifth verse of the same chapter: + + +And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and +blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two +months. + + +The French alphabet, written out with the same numerical values as +the Hebrew, in which the first nine letters denote units and the +others tens, will have the following significance: + + a b c d e f g h i k + 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 + l m n o p q r s + 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 + t u v w x y + 100 110 120 130 140 150 + z + 160 + + +Writing the words L'Empereur Napoleon in numbers, it appears that the +sum of them is 666, and that Napoleon was therefore the beast foretold +in the Apocalypse. Moreover, by applying the same system to the words +quarante-deux,* which was the term allowed to the beast that "spoke +great things and blasphemies," the same number 666 was obtained; from +which it followed that the limit fixed for Napoleon's power had come +in the year 1812 when the French emperor was forty-two. This prophecy +pleased Pierre very much and he often asked himself what would put an +end to the power of the beast, that is, of Napoleon, and tried by the +same system of using letters as numbers and adding them up, to find an +answer to the question that engrossed him. He wrote the words +L'Empereur Alexandre, La nation russe and added up their numbers, but +the sums were either more or less than 666. Once when making such +calculations he wrote down his own name in French, Comte Pierre +Besouhoff, but the sum of the numbers did not come right. Then he +changed the spelling, substituting a z for the s and adding de and the +article le, still without obtaining the desired result. Then it +occurred to him: if the answer to the question were contained in his +name, his nationality would also be given in the answer. So he wrote +Le russe Besuhof and adding up the numbers got 671. This was only five +too much, and five was represented by e, the very letter elided from +the article le before the word Empereur. By omitting the e, though +incorrectly, Pierre got the answer he sought. L'russe Besuhof made +666. This discovery excited him. How, or by what means, he was +connected with the great event foretold in the Apocalypse he did not +know, but he did not doubt that connection for a moment. His love for +Natasha, Antichrist, Napoleon, the invasion, the comet, 666, +L'Empereur Napoleon, and L'russe Besuhof--all this had to mature and +culminate, to lift him out of that spellbound, petty sphere of Moscow +habits in which he felt himself held captive and lead him to a great +achievement and great happiness. + + +*Forty-two. + + +On the eve of the Sunday when the special prayer was read, Pierre +had promised the Rostovs to bring them, from Count Rostopchin whom +he knew well, both the appeal to the people and the news from the +army. In the morning, when he went to call at Rostopchin's he met +there a courier fresh from the army, an acquaintance of his own, who +often danced at Moscow balls. + +"Do, please, for heaven's sake, relieve me of something!" said the +courier. "I have a sackful of letters to parents." + +Among these letters was one from Nicholas Rostov to his father. +Pierre took that letter, and Rostopchin also gave him the Emperor's +appeal to Moscow, which had just been printed, the last army orders, +and his own most recent bulletin. Glancing through the army orders, +Pierre found in one of them, in the lists of killed, wounded, and +rewarded, the name of Nicholas Rostov, awarded a St. George's Cross of +the Fourth Class for courage shown in the Ostrovna affair, and in +the same order the name of Prince Andrew Bolkonski, appointed to the +command of a regiment of Chasseurs. Though he did not want to remind +the Rostovs of Bolkonski, Pierre could not refrain from making them +happy by the news of their son's having received a decoration, so he +sent that printed army order and Nicholas' letter to the Rostovs, +keeping the appeal, the bulletin, and the other orders to take with +him when he went to dinner. + +His conversation with Count Rostopchin and the latter's tone of +anxious hurry, the meeting with the courier who talked casually of how +badly things were going in the army, the rumors of the discovery of +spies in Moscow and of a leaflet in circulation stating that +Napoleon promised to be in both the Russian capitals by the autumn, +and the talk of the Emperor's being expected to arrive next day--all +aroused with fresh force that feeling of agitation and expectation +in Pierre which he had been conscious of ever since the appearance +of the comet, and especially since the beginning of the war. + +He had long been thinking of entering the army and would have done +so had he not been hindered, first, by his membership of the Society +of Freemasons to which he was bound by oath and which preached +perpetual peace and the abolition of war, and secondly, by the fact +that when he saw the great mass of Muscovites who had donned uniform +and were talking patriotism, he somehow felt ashamed to take the step. +But the chief reason for not carrying out his intention to enter the +army lay in the vague idea that he was L'russe Besuhof who had the +number of the beast, 666; that his part in the great affair of setting +a limit to the power of the beast that spoke great and blasphemous +things had been predestined from eternity, and that therefore he ought +not to undertake anything, but wait for what was bound to come to +pass. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +A few intimate friends were dining with the Rostovs that day, as +usual on Sundays. + +Pierre came early so as to find them alone. + +He had grown so stout this year that he would have been abnormal had +he not been so tall, so broad of limb, and so strong that he carried +his bulk with evident ease. + +He went up the stairs, puffing and muttering something. His coachman +did not even ask whether he was to wait. He knew that when his +master was at the Rostovs' he stayed till midnight. The Rostovs' +footman rushed eagerly forward to help him off with his cloak and take +his hat and stick. Pierre, from club habit, always left both hat and +stick in the anteroom. + +The first person he saw in the house was Natasha. Even before he saw +her, while taking off his cloak, he heard her. She was practicing +solfa exercises in the music room. He knew that she had not sung since +her illness, and so the sound of her voice surprised and delighted +him. He opened the door softly and saw her, in the lilac dress she had +worn at church, walking about the room singing. She had her back to +him when he opened the door, but when, turning quickly, she saw his +broad, surprised face, she blushed and came rapidly up to him. + +"I want to try to sing again," she said, adding as if by way of +excuse, "it is, at least, something to do." + +"That's capital!" + +"How glad I am you've come! I am so happy today," she said, with the +old animation Pierre had not seen in her for along time. "You know +Nicholas has received a St. George's Cross? I am so proud of him." + +"Oh yes, I sent that announcement. But I don't want to interrupt +you," he added, and was about to go to the drawing room. + +Natasha stopped him. + +"Count, is it wrong of me to sing?" she said blushing, and fixing +her eyes inquiringly on him. + +"No... Why should it be? On the contrary... But why do you ask me?" + +"I don't know myself," Natasha answered quickly, "but I should not +like to do anything you disapproved of. I believe in you completely. +You don't know how important you are to me, how much you've done for +me...." She spoke rapidly and did not notice how Pierre flushed at her +words. "I saw in that same army order that he, Bolkonski" (she +whispered the name hastily), "is in Russia, and in the army again. +What do you think?"--she was speaking hurriedly, evidently afraid +her strength might fail her--"Will he ever forgive me? Will he not +always have a bitter feeling toward me? What do you think? What do you +think?" + +"I think..." Pierre replied, "that he has nothing to forgive.... +If I were in his place..." + +By association of ideas, Pierre was at once carried back to the +day when, trying to comfort her, he had said that if he were not +himself but the best man in the world and free, he would ask on his +knees for her hand; and the same feeling of pity, tenderness, and love +took possession of him and the same words rose to his lips. But she +did not give him time to say them. + +"Yes, you... you..." she said, uttering the word you +rapturously--"that's a different thing. I know no one kinder, more +generous, or better than you; nobody could be! Had you not been there +then, and now too, I don't know what would have become of me, +because..." + +Tears suddenly rose in her eyes, she turned away, lifted her music +before her eyes, began singing again, and again began walking up and +down the room. + +Just then Petya came running in from the drawing room. + +Petya was now a handsome rosy lad of fifteen with full red lips +and resembled Natasha. He was preparing to enter the university, but +he and his friend Obolenski had lately, in secret, agreed to join +the hussars. + +Petya had come rushing out to talk to his namesake about this +affair. He had asked Pierre to find out whether he would be accepted +in the hussars. + +Pierre walked up and down the drawing room, not listening to what +Petya was saying. + +Petya pulled him by the arm to attract his attention. + +"Well, what about my plan? Peter Kirilych, for heaven's sake! You +are my only hope," said Petya. + +"Oh yes, your plan. To join the hussars? I'll mention it, I'll bring +it all up today." + +"Well, mon cher, have you got the manifesto?" asked the old count. +"The countess has been to Mass at the Razumovskis' and heard the new +prayer. She says it's very fine." + +"Yes, I've got it," said Pierre. "The Emperor is to be here +tomorrow... there's to be an Extraordinary Meeting of the nobility, +and they are talking of a levy of ten men per thousand. Oh yes, let me +congratulate you!" + +"Yes, yes, thank God! Well, and what news from the army?" + +"We are again retreating. They say we're already near Smolensk," +replied Pierre. + +"O Lord, O Lord!" exclaimed the count. "Where is the manifesto?" + +"The Emperor's appeal? Oh yes!" + +Pierre began feeling in his pockets for the papers, but could not +find them. Still slapping his pockets, he kissed the hand of the +countess who entered the room and glanced uneasily around, evidently +expecting Natasha, who had left off singing but had not yet come +into the drawing room. + +"On my word, I don't know what I've done with it," he said. + +"There he is, always losing everything!" remarked the countess. + +Natasha entered with a softened and agitated expression of face +and sat down looking silently at Pierre. As soon as she entered, +Pierre's features, which had been gloomy, suddenly lighted up, and +while still searching for the papers he glanced at her several times. + +"No, really! I'll drive home, I must have left them there. I'll +certainly..." + +"But you'll be late for dinner." + +"Oh! And my coachman has gone." + +But Sonya, who had gone to look for the papers in the anteroom, +had found them in Pierre's hat, where he had carefully tucked them +under the lining. Pierre was about to begin reading. + +"No, after dinner," said the old count, evidently expecting much +enjoyment from that reading. + +At dinner, at which champagne was drunk to the health of the new +chevalier of St. George, Shinshin told them the town news, of the +illness of the old Georgian princess, of Metivier's disappearance from +Moscow, and of how some German fellow had been brought to Rostopchin +and accused of being a French "spyer" (so Count Rostopchin had told +the story), and how Rostopchin let him go and assured the people +that he was "not a spire at all, but only an old German ruin." + +"People are being arrested..." said the count. "I've told the +countess she should not speak French so much. It's not the time for it +now." + +"And have you heard?" Shinshin asked. "Prince Golitsyn has engaged a +master to teach him Russian. It is becoming dangerous to speak +French in the streets." + +"And how about you, Count Peter Kirilych? If they call up the +militia, you too will have to mount a horse," remarked the old +count, addressing Pierre. + +Pierre had been silent and preoccupied all through dinner, seeming +not to grasp what was said. He looked at the count. + +"Oh yes, the war," he said. "No! What sort of warrior should I make? +And yet everything is so strange, so strange! I can't make it out. I +don't know, I am very far from having military tastes, but in these +times no one can answer for himself." + +After dinner the count settled himself comfortably in an easy +chair and with a serious face asked Sonya, who was considered an +excellent reader, to read the appeal. + + +"To Moscow, our ancient Capital! + +"The enemy has entered the borders of Russia with immense forces. He +comes to despoil our beloved country." + + +Sonya read painstakingly in her high-pitched voice. The count +listened with closed eyes, heaving abrupt sighs at certain passages. + +Natasha sat erect, gazing with a searching look now at her father +and now at Pierre. + +Pierre felt her eyes on him and tried not to look round. The +countess shook her head disapprovingly and angrily at every solemn +expression in the manifesto. In all these words she saw only that +the danger threatening her son would not soon be over. Shinshin, +with a sarcastic smile on his lips, was evidently preparing to make +fun of anything that gave him the opportunity: Sonya's reading, any +remark of the count's, or even the manifesto itself should no better +pretext present itself. + +After reading about the dangers that threatened Russia, the hopes +the Emperor placed on Moscow and especially on its illustrious +nobility, Sonya, with a quiver in her voice due chiefly to the +attention that was being paid to her, read the last words: + + +"We ourselves will not delay to appear among our people in that +Capital and in other parts of our realm for consultation, and for the +direction of all our levies, both those now barring the enemy's path +and those freshly formed to defeat him wherever he may appear. May the +ruin he hopes to bring upon us recoil on his own head, and may +Europe delivered from bondage glorify the name of Russia!" + + +"Yes, that's it!" cried the count, opening his moist eyes and +sniffing repeatedly, as if a strong vinaigrette had been held to his +nose; and he added, "Let the Emperor but say the word and we'll +sacrifice everything and begrudge nothing." + +Before Shinshin had time to utter the joke he was ready to make on +the count's patriotism, Natasha jumped up from her place and ran to +her father. + +"What a darling our Papa is!" she cried, kissing him, and she +again looked at Pierre with the unconscious coquetry that had returned +to her with her better spirits. + +"There! Here's a patriot for you!" said Shinshin. + +"Not a patriot at all, but simply..." Natasha replied in an +injured tone. "Everything seems funny to you, but this isn't at all +a joke...." + +"A joke indeed!" put in the count. "Let him but say the word and +we'll all go.... We're not Germans!" + +"But did you notice, it says, 'for consultation'?" said Pierre. + +"Never mind what it's for...." + +At this moment, Petya, to whom nobody was paying any attention, came +up to his father with a very flushed face and said in his breaking +voice that was now deep and now shrill: + +"Well, Papa, I tell you definitely, and Mamma too, it's as you +please, but I say definitely that you must let me enter the army, +because I can't... that's all...." + +The countess, in dismay, looked up to heaven, clasped her hands, and +turned angrily to her husband. + +"That comes of your talking!" said she. + +But the count had already recovered from his excitement. + +"Come, come!" said he. "Here's a fine warrior! No! Nonsense! You +must study." + +"It's not nonsense, Papa. Fedya Obolenski is younger than I, and +he's going too. Besides, all the same I can't study now when..." Petya +stopped short, flushed till he perspired, but still got out the words, +"when our Fatherland is in danger." + +"That'll do, that'll do--nonsense...." + +"But you said yourself that we would sacrifice everything." + +"Petya! Be quiet, I tell you!" cried the count, with a glance at his +wife, who had turned pale and was staring fixedly at her son. + +"And I tell you--Peter Kirilych here will also tell you..." + +"Nonsense, I tell you. Your mother's milk has hardly dried on your +lips and you want to go into the army! There, there, I tell you," +and the count moved to go out of the room, taking the papers, probably +to reread them in his study before having a nap. + +"Well, Peter Kirilych, let's go and have a smoke," he said. + +Pierre was agitated and undecided. Natasha's unwontedly brilliant +eyes, continually glancing at him with a more than cordial look, had +reduced him to this condition. + +"No, I think I'll go home." + +"Home? Why, you meant to spend the evening with us.... You don't +often come nowadays as it is, and this girl of mine," said the count +good-naturedly, pointing to Natasha, "only brightens up when you're +here." + +"Yes, I had forgotten... I really must go home... business..." +said Pierre hurriedly. + +"Well, then, au revoir!" said the count, and went out of the room. + +"Why are you going? Why are you upset?" asked Natasha, and she +looked challengingly into Pierre's eyes. + +"Because I love you!" was what he wanted to say, but he did not +say it, and only blushed till the tears came, and lowered his eyes. + +"Because it is better for me to come less often... because... No, +simply I have business...." + +"Why? No, tell me!" Natasha began resolutely and suddenly stopped. + +They looked at each other with dismayed and embarrassed faces. He +tried to smile but could not: his smile expressed suffering, and he +silently kissed her hand and went out. + +Pierre made up his mind not to go to the Rostovs' any more. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +After the definite refusal he had received, Petya went to his room +and there locked himself in and wept bitterly. When he came in to tea, +silent, morose, and with tear-stained face, everybody pretended not to +notice anything. + +Next day the Emperor arrived in Moscow, and several of the Rostovs' +domestic serfs begged permission to go to have a look at him. That +morning Petya was a long time dressing and arranging his hair and collar +to look like a grown-up man. He frowned before his looking glass, +gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and finally, without saying a word +to anyone, took his cap and left the house by the back door, trying to +avoid notice. Petya decided to go straight to where the Emperor was and +to explain frankly to some gentleman-in-waiting (he imagined the Emperor +to be always surrounded by gentlemen-in-waiting) that he, Count Rostov, +in spite of his youth wished to serve his country; that youth could be +no hindrance to loyalty, and that he was ready to... While dressing, +Petya had prepared many fine things he meant to say to the +gentleman-in-waiting. + +It was on the very fact of being so young that Petya counted for +success in reaching the Emperor--he even thought how surprised +everyone would be at his youthfulness--and yet in the arrangement of +his collar and hair and by his sedate deliberate walk he wished to +appear a grown-up man. But the farther he went and the more his +attention was diverted by the ever-increasing crowds moving toward the +Kremlin, the less he remembered to walk with the sedateness and +deliberation of a man. As he approached the Kremlin he even began to +avoid being crushed and resolutely stuck out his elbows in a +menacing way. But within the Trinity Gateway he was so pressed to +the wall by people who probably were unaware of the patriotic +intentions with which he had come that in spite of all his +determination he had to give in, and stop while carriages passed in, +rumbling beneath the archway. Beside Petya stood a peasant woman, a +footman, two tradesmen, and a discharged soldier. After standing +some time in the gateway, Petya tried to move forward in front of +the others without waiting for all the carriages to pass, and he began +resolutely working his way with his elbows, but the woman just in +front of him, who was the first against whom he directed his +efforts, angrily shouted at him: + +"What are you shoving for, young lordling? Don't you see we're all +standing still? Then why push?" + +"Anybody can shove," said the footman, and also began working his +elbows to such effect that he pushed Petya into a very filthy corner +of the gateway. + +Petya wiped his perspiring face with his hands and pulled up the +damp collar which he had arranged so well at home to seem like a +man's. + +He felt that he no longer looked presentable, and feared that if +he were now to approach the gentlemen-in-waiting in that plight he +would not be admitted to the Emperor. But it was impossible to smarten +oneself up or move to another place, because of the crowd. One of +the generals who drove past was an acquaintance of the Rostovs', and +Petya thought of asking his help, but came to the conclusion that that +would not be a manly thing to do. When the carriages had all passed +in, the crowd, carrying Petya with it, streamed forward into the +Kremlin Square which was already full of people. There were people not +only in the square, but everywhere--on the slopes and on the roofs. As +soon as Petya found himself in the square he clearly heard the sound +of bells and the joyous voices of the crowd that filled the whole +Kremlin. + +For a while the crowd was less dense, but suddenly all heads were +bared, and everyone rushed forward in one direction. Petya was being +pressed so that he could scarcely breathe, and everybody shouted, +"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" Petya stood on tiptoe and pushed and +pinched, but could see nothing except the people about him. + +All the faces bore the same expression of excitement and enthusiasm. +A tradesman's wife standing beside Petya sobbed, and the tears ran +down her cheeks. + +"Father! Angel! Dear one!" she kept repeating, wiping away her tears +with her fingers. + +"Hurrah!" was heard on all sides. + +For a moment the crowd stood still, but then it made another rush +forward. + +Quite beside himself, Petya, clinching his teeth and rolling his +eyes ferociously, pushed forward, elbowing his way and shouting +"hurrah!" as if he were prepared that instant to kill himself and +everyone else, but on both sides of him other people with similarly +ferocious faces pushed forward and everybody shouted "hurrah!" + +"So this is what the Emperor is!" thought Petya. "No, I can't +petition him myself--that would be too bold." But in spite of this +he continued to struggle desperately forward, and from between the +backs of those in front he caught glimpses of an open space with a +strip of red cloth spread out on it; but just then the crowd swayed +back--the police in front were pushing back those who had pressed +too close to the procession: the Emperor was passing from the palace +to the Cathedral of the Assumption--and Petya unexpectedly received +such a blow on his side and ribs and was squeezed so hard that +suddenly everything grew dim before his eyes and he lost +consciousness. When he came to himself, a man of clerical appearance +with a tuft of gray hair at the back of his head and wearing a +shabby blue cassock--probably a church clerk and chanter--was +holding him under the arm with one hand while warding off the pressure +of the crowd with the other. + +"You've crushed the young gentleman!" said the clerk. "What are +you up to? Gently!... They've crushed him, crushed him!" + +The Emperor entered the Cathedral of the Assumption. The crowd +spread out again more evenly, and the clerk led Petya--pale and +breathless--to the Tsar-cannon. Several people were sorry for Petya, +and suddenly a crowd turned toward him and pressed round him. Those +who stood nearest him attended to him, unbuttoned his coat, seated him +on the raised platform of the cannon, and reproached those others +(whoever they might be) who had crushed him. + +"One might easily get killed that way! What do they mean by it? +Killing people! Poor dear, he's as white as a sheet!"--various +voices were heard saying. + +Petya soon came to himself, the color returned to his face, the pain +had passed, and at the cost of that temporary unpleasantness he had +obtained a place by the cannon from where he hoped to see the +Emperor who would be returning that way. Petya no longer thought of +presenting his petition. If he could only see the Emperor he would +be happy! + +While the service was proceeding in the Cathedral of the +Assumption--it was a combined service of prayer on the occasion of the +Emperor's arrival and of thanksgiving for the conclusion of peace with +the Turks--the crowd outside spread out and hawkers appeared, selling +kvas, gingerbread, and poppyseed sweets (of which Petya was +particularly fond), and ordinary conversation could again be heard. A +tradesman's wife was showing a rent in her shawl and telling how much +the shawl had cost; another was saying that all silk goods had now got +dear. The clerk who had rescued Petya was talking to a functionary +about the priests who were officiating that day with the bishop. The +clerk several times used the word "plenary" (of the service), a word +Petya did not understand. Two young citizens were joking with some +serf girls who were cracking nuts. All these conversations, especially +the joking with the girls, were such as might have had a particular +charm for Petya at his age, but they did not interest him now. He sat +on his elevation--the pedestal of the cannon--still agitated as before +by the thought of the Emperor and by his love for him. The feeling of +pain and fear he had experienced when he was being crushed, together +with that of rapture, still further intensified his sense of the +importance of the occasion. + +Suddenly the sound of a firing of cannon was heard from the +embankment, to celebrate the signing of peace with the Turks, and +the crowd rushed impetuously toward the embankment to watch the +firing. Petya too would have run there, but the clerk who had taken +the young gentleman under his protection stopped him. The firing was +still proceeding when officers, generals, and gentlemen-in-waiting +came running out of the cathedral, and after them others in a more +leisurely manner: caps were again raised, and those who had run to +look at the cannon ran back again. At last four men in uniforms and +sashes emerged from the cathedral doors. "Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the +crowd again. + +"Which is he? Which?" asked Petya in a tearful voice, of those around +him, but no one answered him, everybody was too excited; and Petya, +fixing on one of those four men, whom he could not clearly see for the +tears of joy that filled his eyes, concentrated all his enthusiasm on +him--though it happened not to be the Emperor--frantically shouted +"Hurrah!" and resolved that tomorrow, come what might, he would join +the army. + +The crowd ran after the Emperor, followed him to the palace, and +began to disperse. It was already late, and Petya had not eaten +anything and was drenched with perspiration, yet he did not go home +but stood with that diminishing, but still considerable, crowd +before the palace while the Emperor dined--looking in at the palace +windows, expecting he knew not what, and envying alike the notables he +saw arriving at the entrance to dine with the Emperor and the court +footmen who served at table, glimpses of whom could be seen through +the windows. + +While the Emperor was dining, Valuev, looking out of the window, +said: + +"The people are still hoping to see Your Majesty again." + +The dinner was nearly over, and the Emperor, munching a biscuit, +rose and went out onto the balcony. The people, with Petya among them, +rushed toward the balcony. + +"Angel! Dear one! Hurrah! Father!..." cried the crowd, and Petya +with it, and again the women and men of weaker mold, Petya among them, +wept with joy. + +A largish piece of the biscuit the Emperor was holding in his hand +broke off, fell on the balcony parapet, and then to the ground. A +coachman in a jerkin, who stood nearest, sprang forward and snatched +it up. Several people in the crowd rushed at the coachman. Seeing this +the Emperor had a plateful of biscuits brought him and began +throwing them down from the balcony. Petya's eyes grew bloodshot, +and still more excited by the danger of being crushed, he rushed at +the biscuits. He did not know why, but he had to have a biscuit from +the Tsar's hand and he felt that he must not give way. He sprang +forward and upset an old woman who was catching at a biscuit; the +old woman did not consider herself defeated though she was lying on +the ground--she grabbed at some biscuits but her hand did not reach +them. Petya pushed her hand away with his knee, seized a biscuit, +and as if fearing to be too late, again shouted "Hurrah!" with a voice +already hoarse. + +The Emperor went in, and after that the greater part of the crowd +began to disperse. + +"There! I said if only we waited--and so it was!" was being joyfully +said by various people. + +Happy as Petya was, he felt sad at having to go home knowing that +all the enjoyment of that day was over. He did not go straight home +from the Kremlin, but called on his friend Obolenski, who was +fifteen and was also entering the regiment. On returning home Petya +announced resolutely and firmly that if he was not allowed to enter +the service he would run away. And next day, Count Ilya Rostov--though +he had not yet quite yielded--went to inquire how he could arrange for +Petya to serve where there would be least danger. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Two days later, on the fifteenth of July, an immense number of +carriages were standing outside the Sloboda Palace. + +The great halls were full. In the first were the nobility and gentry +in their uniforms, in the second bearded merchants in full-skirted +coats of blue cloth and wearing medals. In the noblemen's hall there +was an incessant movement and buzz of voices. The chief magnates sat +on high-backed chairs at a large table under the portrait of the +Emperor, but most of the gentry were strolling about the room. + +All these nobles, whom Pierre met every day at the Club or in +their own houses, were in uniform--some in that of Catherine's day, +others in that of Emperor Paul, others again in the new uniforms of +Alexander's time or the ordinary uniform of the nobility, and the +general characteristic of being in uniform imparted something +strange and fantastic to these diverse and familiar personalities, +both old and young. The old men, dim-eyed, toothless, bald, sallow, +and bloated, or gaunt and wrinkled, were especially striking. For +the most part they sat quietly in their places and were silent, or, if +they walked about and talked, attached themselves to someone +younger. On all these faces, as on the faces of the crowd Petya had +seen in the Square, there was a striking contradiction: the general +expectation of a solemn event, and at the same time the everyday +interests in a boston card party, Peter the cook, Zinaida Dmitrievna's +health, and so on. + +Pierre was there too, buttoned up since early morning in a nobleman's +uniform that had become too tight for him. He was agitated; this +extraordinary gathering not only of nobles but also of the +merchant-class--les etats generaux (States-General)--evoked in him a +whole series of ideas he had long laid aside but which were deeply +graven in his soul: thoughts of the Contrat social and the French +Revolution. The words that had struck him in the Emperor's +appeal--that the sovereign was coming to the capital for consultation +with his people--strengthened this idea. And imagining that in this +direction something important which he had long awaited was drawing +near, he strolled about watching and listening to conversations, but +nowhere finding any confirmation of the ideas that occupied him. + +The Emperor's manifesto was read, evoking enthusiasm, and then all +moved about discussing it. Besides the ordinary topics of +conversation, Pierre heard questions of where the marshals of the +nobility were to stand when the Emperor entered, when a ball should be +given in the Emperor's honor, whether they should group themselves +by districts or by whole provinces... and so on; but as soon as the +war was touched on, or what the nobility had been convened for, the +talk became undecided and indefinite. Then all preferred listening +to speaking. + +A middle-aged man, handsome and virile, in the uniform of a +retired naval officer, was speaking in one of the rooms, and a small +crowd was pressing round him. Pierre went up to the circle that had +formed round the speaker and listened. Count Ilya Rostov, in a +military uniform of Catherine's time, was sauntering with a pleasant +smile among the crowd, with all of whom he was acquainted. He too +approached that group and listened with a kindly smile and nods of +approval, as he always did, to what the speaker was saying. The +retired naval man was speaking very boldly, as was evident from the +expression on the faces of the listeners and from the fact that some +people Pierre knew as the meekest and quietest of men walked away +disapprovingly or expressed disagreement with him. Pierre pushed his +way into the middle of the group, listened, and convinced himself that +the man was indeed a liberal, but of views quite different from his +own. The naval officer spoke in a particularly sonorous, musical, +and aristocratic baritone voice, pleasantly swallowing his r's and +generally slurring his consonants: the voice of a man calling out to +his servant, "Heah! Bwing me my pipe!" It was indicative of +dissipation and the exercise of authority. + +"What if the Smolensk people have offahd to waise militia for the +Empewah? Ah we to take Smolensk as our patte'n? If the noble +awistocwacy of the pwovince of Moscow thinks fit, it can show its +loyalty to our sov'weign the Empewah in other ways. Have we +fo'gotten the waising of the militia in the yeah 'seven? All that +did was to enwich the pwiests' sons and thieves and wobbahs...." + +Count Ilya Rostov smiled blandly and nodded approval. + +"And was our militia of any use to the Empia? Not at all! It only +wuined our farming! Bettah have another conscwiption... o' ou' men +will wetu'n neithah soldiers no' peasants, and we'll get only +depwavity fwom them. The nobility don't gwudge theah lives--evewy +one of us will go and bwing in more wecwuits, and the sov'weign" (that +was the way he referred to the Emperor) "need only say the word and +we'll all die fo' him!" added the orator with animation. + +Count Rostov's mouth watered with pleasure and he nudged Pierre, but +Pierre wanted to speak himself. He pushed forward, feeling stirred, +but not yet sure what stirred him or what he would say. Scarcely had +he opened his mouth when one of the senators, a man without a tooth in +his head, with a shrewd though angry expression, standing near the +first speaker, interrupted him. Evidently accustomed to managing +debates and to maintaining an argument, he began in low but distinct +tones: + +"I imagine, sir," said he, mumbling with his toothless mouth, +"that we have been summoned here not to discuss whether it's best +for the empire at the present moment to adopt conscription or to +call out the militia. We have been summoned to reply to the appeal +with which our sovereign the Emperor has honored us. But to judge what +is best--conscription or the militia--we can leave to the supreme +authority...." + +Pierre suddenly saw an outlet for his excitement. He hardened his +heart against the senator who was introducing this set and narrow +attitude into the deliberations of the nobility. Pierre stepped +forward and interrupted him. He himself did not yet know what he would +say, but he began to speak eagerly, occasionally lapsing into French +or expressing himself in bookish Russian. + +"Excuse me, your excellency," he began. (He was well acquainted with +the senator, but thought it necessary on this occasion to address +him formally.) "Though I don't agree with the gentleman..." (he +hesitated: he wished to say, "Mon tres honorable preopinant"--"My very +honorable opponent") "with the gentleman... whom I have not the +honor of knowing, I suppose that the nobility have been summoned not +merely to express their sympathy and enthusiasm but also to consider +the means by which we can assist our Fatherland! I imagine," he went +on, warming to his subject, "that the Emperor himself would not be +satisfied to find in us merely owners of serfs whom we are willing +to devote to his service, and chair a canon* we are ready to make of +ourselves--and not to obtain from us any co-co-counsel." + + +*"Food for cannon." + + +Many persons withdrew from the circle, noticing the senator's +sarcastic smile and the freedom of Pierre's remarks. Only Count Rostov +was pleased with them as he had been pleased with those of the naval +officer, the senator, and in general with whatever speech he had +last heard. + +"I think that before discussing these questions," Pierre +continued, "we should ask the Emperor--most respectfully ask His +Majesty--to let us know the number of our troops and the position in +which our army and our forces now are, and then..." + +But scarcely had Pierre uttered these words before he was attacked +from three sides. The most vigorous attack came from an old +acquaintance, a boston player who had always been well disposed toward +him, Stepan Stepanovich Adraksin. Adraksin was in uniform, and whether +as a result of the uniform or from some other cause Pierre saw +before him quite a different man. With a sudden expression of +malevolence on his aged face, Adraksin shouted at Pierre: + +"In the first place, I tell you we have no right to question the +Emperor about that, and secondly, if the Russian nobility had that +right, the Emperor could not answer such a question. The troops are +moved according to the enemy's movements and the number of men +increases and decreases..." + +Another voice, that of a nobleman of medium height and about forty +years of age, whom Pierre had formerly met at the gypsies' and knew as +a bad cardplayer, and who, also transformed by his uniform, came up to +Pierre, interrupted Adraksin. + +"Yes, and this is not a time for discussing," he continued, "but for +acting: there is war in Russia! The enemy is advancing to destroy +Russia, to desecrate the tombs of our fathers, to carry off our +wives and children." The nobleman smote his breast. "We will all +arise, every one of us will go, for our father the Tsar!" he +shouted, rolling his bloodshot eyes. Several approving voices were +heard in the crowd. "We are Russians and will not grudge our blood +in defense of our faith, the throne, and the Fatherland! We must cease +raving if we are sons of our Fatherland! We will show Europe how +Russia rises to the defense of Russia!" + +Pierre wished to reply, but could not get in a word. He felt that +his words, apart from what meaning they conveyed, were less audible +than the sound of his opponent's voice. + +Count Rostov at the back of the crowd was expressing approval; +several persons, briskly turning a shoulder to the orator at the end +of a phrase, said: + +"That's right, quite right! Just so!" + +Pierre wished to say that he was ready to sacrifice his money, his +serfs, or himself, only one ought to know the state of affairs in +order to be able to improve it, but he was unable to speak. Many +voices shouted and talked at the same time, so that Count Rostov had +not time to signify his approval of them all, and the group increased, +dispersed, re-formed, and then moved with a hum of talk into the +largest hall and to the big table. Not only was Pierre's attempt to +speak unsuccessful, but he was rudely interrupted, pushed aside, and +people turned away from him as from a common enemy. This happened +not because they were displeased by the substance of his speech, which +had even been forgotten after the many subsequent speeches, but to +animate it the crowd needed a tangible object to love and a tangible +object to hate. Pierre became the latter. Many other orators spoke +after the excited nobleman, and all in the same tone. Many spoke +eloquently and with originality. + +Glinka, the editor of the Russian Messenger, who was recognized +(cries of "author! author!" were heard in the crowd), said that +"hell must be repulsed by hell," and that he had seen a child +smiling at lightning flashes and thunderclaps, but "we will not be +that child." + +"Yes, yes, at thunderclaps!" was repeated approvingly in the back +rows of the crowd. + +The crowd drew up to the large table, at which sat gray-haired or +bald seventy-year-old magnates, uniformed and besashed almost all of +whom Pierre had seen in their own homes with their buffoons, or +playing boston at the clubs. With an incessant hum of voices the crowd +advanced to the table. Pressed by the throng against the high backs of +the chairs, the orators spoke one after another and sometimes two +together. Those standing behind noticed what a speaker omitted to +say and hastened to supply it. Others in that heat and crush racked +their brains to find some thought and hastened to utter it. The old +magnates, whom Pierre knew, sat and turned to look first at one and +then at another, and their faces for the most part only expressed +the fact that they found it very hot. Pierre, however, felt excited, +and the general desire to show that they were ready to go to all +lengths--which found expression in the tones and looks more than in +the substance of the speeches--infected him too. He did not renounce +his opinions, but felt himself in some way to blame and wished to +justify himself. + +"I only said that it would be more to the purpose to make sacrifices +when we know what is needed!" said he, trying to be heard above the +other voices. + +One of the old men nearest to him looked round, but his attention +was immediately diverted by an exclamation at the other side of the +table. + +"Yes, Moscow will be surrendered! She will be our expiation!" +shouted one man. + +"He is the enemy of mankind!" cried another. "Allow me to speak...." +"Gentlemen, you are crushing me!..." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +At that moment Count Rostopchin with his protruding chin and alert +eyes, wearing the uniform of a general with sash over his shoulder, +entered the room, stepping briskly to the front of the crowd of +gentry. + +"Our sovereign the Emperor will be here in a moment," said +Rostopchin. "I am straight from the palace. Seeing the position we are +in, I think there is little need for discussion. The Emperor has +deigned to summon us and the merchants. Millions will pour forth +from there"--he pointed to the merchants' hall--"but our business is +to supply men and not spare ourselves... That is the least we can do!" + +A conference took place confined to the magnates sitting at the +table. The whole consultation passed more than quietly. After all +the preceding noise the sound of their old voices saying one after +another, "I agree," or for variety, "I too am of that opinion," and so +on had even a mournful effect. + +The secretary was told to write down the resolution of the Moscow +nobility and gentry, that they would furnish ten men, fully +equipped, out of every thousand serfs, as the Smolensk gentry had +done. Their chairs made a scraping noise as the gentlemen who had +conferred rose with apparent relief, and began walking up and down, +arm in arm, to stretch their legs and converse in couples. + +"The Emperor! The Emperor!" a sudden cry resounded through the halls +and the whole throng hurried to the entrance. + +The Emperor entered the hall through a broad path between two +lines of nobles. Every face expressed respectful, awe-struck +curiosity. Pierre stood rather far off and could not hear all that the +Emperor said. From what he did hear he understood that the Emperor +spoke of the danger threatening the empire and of the hopes he +placed on the Moscow nobility. He was answered by a voice which +informed him of the resolution just arrived at. + +"Gentlemen!" said the Emperor with a quivering voice. + +There was a rustling among the crowd and it again subsided, so +that Pierre distinctly heard the pleasantly human voice of the Emperor +saying with emotion: + +"I never doubted the devotion of the Russian nobles, but today it +has surpassed my expectations. I thank you in the name of the +Fatherland! Gentlemen, let us act! Time is most precious..." + +The Emperor ceased speaking, the crowd began pressing round him, and +rapturous exclamations were heard from all sides. + +"Yes, most precious... a royal word," said Count Rostov, with a sob. +He stood at the back, and, though he had heard hardly anything, +understood everything in his own way. + +From the hall of the nobility the Emperor went to that of the +merchants. There he remained about ten minutes. Pierre was among those +who saw him come out from the merchants' hall with tears of emotion in +his eyes. As became known later, he had scarcely begun to address +the merchants before tears gushed from his eyes and he concluded in +a trembling voice. When Pierre saw the Emperor he was coming out +accompanied by two merchants, one of whom Pierre knew, a fat +otkupshchik. The other was the mayor, a man with a thin sallow face +and narrow beard. Both were weeping. Tears filled the thin man's eyes, +and the fat otkupshchik sobbed outright like a child and kept +repeating: + +"Our lives and property--take them, Your Majesty!" + +Pierre's one feeling at the moment was a desire to show that he was +ready to go all lengths and was prepared to sacrifice everything. He +now felt ashamed of his speech with its constitutional tendency and +sought an opportunity of effacing it. Having heard that Count Mamonov +was furnishing a regiment, Bezukhov at once informed Rostopchin that +he would give a thousand men and their maintenance. + +Old Rostov could not tell his wife of what had passed without tears, +and at once consented to Petya's request and went himself to enter his +name. + +Next day the Emperor left Moscow. The assembled nobles all took +off their uniforms and settled down again in their homes and clubs, +and not without some groans gave orders to their stewards about the +enrollment, feeling amazed themselves at what they had done. + + + + + +BOOK TEN: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Napoleon began the war with Russia because he could not resist going +to Dresden, could not help having his head turned by the homage he +received, could not help donning a Polish uniform and yielding to +the stimulating influence of a June morning, and could not refrain +from bursts of anger in the presence of Kurakin and then of Balashev. + +Alexander refused negotiations because he felt himself to be +personally insulted. Barclay de Tolly tried to command the army in the +best way, because he wished to fulfill his duty and earn fame as a +great commander. Rostov charged the French because he could not +restrain his wish for a gallop across a level field; and in the same +way the innumerable people who took part in the war acted in accord +with their personal characteristics, habits, circumstances, and +aims. They were moved by fear or vanity, rejoiced or were indignant, +reasoned, imagining that they knew what they were doing and did it +of their own free will, but they all were involuntary tools of +history, carrying on a work concealed from them but comprehensible +to us. Such is the inevitable fate of men of action, and the higher +they stand in the social hierarchy the less are they free. + +The actors of 1812 have long since left the stage, their personal +interests have vanished leaving no trace, and nothing remains of +that time but its historic results. + +Providence compelled all these men, striving to attain personal +aims, to further the accomplishment of a stupendous result no one of +them at all expected--neither Napoleon, nor Alexander, nor still +less any of those who did the actual fighting. + +The cause of the destruction of the French army in 1812 is clear +to us now. No one will deny that that cause was, on the one hand, +its advance into the heart of Russia late in the season without any +preparation for a winter campaign and, on the other, the character +given to the war by the burning of Russian towns and the hatred of the +foe this aroused among the Russian people. But no one at the time +foresaw (what now seems so evident) that this was the only way an army +of eight hundred thousand men--the best in the world and led by the +best general--could be destroyed in conflict with a raw army of half +its numerical strength, and led by inexperienced commanders as the +Russian army was. Not only did no one see this, but on the Russian +side every effort was made to hinder the only thing that could save +Russia, while on the French side, despite Napoleon's experience and +so-called military genius, every effort was directed to pushing on +to Moscow at the end of the summer, that is, to doing the very thing +that was bound to lead to destruction. + +In historical works on the year 1812 French writers are very fond of +saying that Napoleon felt the danger of extending his line, that he +sought a battle and that his marshals advised him to stop at Smolensk, +and of making similar statements to show that the danger of the +campaign was even then understood. Russian authors are still fonder of +telling us that from the commencement of the campaign a Scythian war +plan was adopted to lure Napoleon into the depths of Russia, and this +plan some of them attribute to Pfuel, others to a certain Frenchman, +others to Toll, and others again to Alexander himself--pointing to +notes, projects, and letters which contain hints of such a line of +action. But all these hints at what happened, both from the French +side and the Russian, are advanced only because they fit in with the +event. Had that event not occurred these hints would have been +forgotten, as we have forgotten the thousands and millions of hints +and expectations to the contrary which were current then but have now +been forgotten because the event falsified them. There are always so +many conjectures as to the issue of any event that however it may end +there will always be people to say: "I said then that it would be so," +quite forgetting that amid their innumerable conjectures many were to +quite the contrary effect. + +Conjectures as to Napoleon's awareness of the danger of extending +his line, and (on the Russian side) as to luring the enemy into the +depths of Russia, are evidently of that kind, and only by much +straining can historians attribute such conceptions to Napoleon and +his marshals, or such plans to the Russian commanders. All the facts +are in flat contradiction to such conjectures. During the whole period +of the war not only was there no wish on the Russian side to draw +the French into the heart of the country, but from their first entry +into Russia everything was done to stop them. And not only was +Napoleon not afraid to extend his line, but he welcomed every step +forward as a triumph and did not seek battle as eagerly as in former +campaigns, but very lazily. + +At the very beginning of the war our armies were divided, and our +sole aim was to unite them, though uniting the armies was no advantage +if we meant to retire and lure the enemy into the depths of the +country. Our Emperor joined the army to encourage it to defend every +inch of Russian soil and not to retreat. The enormous Drissa camp +was formed on Pfuel's plan, and there was no intention of retiring +farther. The Emperor reproached the commanders in chief for every step +they retired. He could not bear the idea of letting the enemy even +reach Smolensk, still less could he contemplate the burning of Moscow, +and when our armies did unite he was displeased that Smolensk was +abandoned and burned without a general engagement having been fought +under its walls. + +So thought the Emperor, and the Russian commanders and people were +still more provoked at the thought that our forces were retreating +into the depths of the country. + +Napoleon having cut our armies apart advanced far into the country +and missed several chances of forcing an engagement. In August he +was at Smolensk and thought only of how to advance farther, though +as we now see that advance was evidently ruinous to him. + +The facts clearly show that Napoleon did not foresee the danger of +the advance on Moscow, nor did Alexander and the Russian commanders +then think of luring Napoleon on, but quite the contrary. The luring +of Napoleon into the depths of the country was not the result of any +plan, for no one believed it to be possible; it resulted from a most +complex interplay of intrigues, aims, and wishes among those who +took part in the war and had no perception whatever of the inevitable, +or of the one way of saving Russia. Everything came about +fortuitously. The armies were divided at the commencement of the +campaign. We tried to unite them, with the evident intention of giving +battle and checking the enemy's advance, and by this effort to unite +them while avoiding battle with a much stronger enemy, and necessarily +withdrawing the armies at an acute angle--we led the French on to +Smolensk. But we withdrew at an acute angle not only because the +French advanced between our two armies; the angle became still more +acute and we withdrew still farther, because Barclay de Tolly was an +unpopular foreigner disliked by Bagration (who would come under his +command), and Bagration--being in command of the second army--tried to +postpone joining up and coming under Barclay's command as long as he +could. Bagration was slow in effecting the junction--though that was +the chief aim of all at headquarters--because, as he alleged, he +exposed his army to danger on this march, and it was best for him to +retire more to the left and more to the south, worrying the enemy from +flank and rear and securing from the Ukraine recruits for his army; +and it looks as if he planned this in order not to come under the +command of the detested foreigner Barclay, whose rank was inferior +to his own. + +The Emperor was with the army to encourage it, but his presence +and ignorance of what steps to take, and the enormous number of +advisers and plans, destroyed the first army's energy and it retired. + +The intention was to make a stand at the Drissa camp, but +Paulucci, aiming at becoming commander in chief, unexpectedly employed +his energy to influence Alexander, and Pfuel's whole plan was +abandoned and the command entrusted to Barclay. But as Barclay did not +inspire confidence his power was limited. The armies were divided, +there was no unity of command, and Barclay was unpopular; but from +this confusion, division, and the unpopularity of the foreign +commander in chief, there resulted on the one hand indecision and +the avoidance of a battle (which we could not have refrained from +had the armies been united and had someone else, instead of Barclay, +been in command) and on the other an ever-increasing indignation +against the foreigners and an increase in patriotic zeal. + +At last the Emperor left the army, and as the most convenient and +indeed the only pretext for his departure it was decided that it was +necessary for him to inspire the people in the capitals and arouse the +nation in general to a patriotic war. And by this visit of the Emperor +to Moscow the strength of the Russian army was trebled. + +He left in order not to obstruct the commander in chief's +undivided control of the army, and hoping that more decisive action +would then be taken, but the command of the armies became still more +confused and enfeebled. Bennigsen, the Tsarevich, and a swarm of +adjutants general remained with the army to keep the commander in +chief under observation and arouse his energy, and Barclay, feeling +less free than ever under the observation of all these "eyes of the +Emperor," became still more cautious of undertaking any decisive +action and avoided giving battle. + +Barclay stood for caution. The Tsarevich hinted at treachery and +demanded a general engagement. Lubomirski, Bronnitski, Wlocki, and the +others of that group stirred up so much trouble that Barclay, under +pretext of sending papers to the Emperor, dispatched these Polish +adjutants general to Petersburg and plunged into an open struggle with +Bennigsen and the Tsarevich. + +At Smolensk the armies at last reunited, much as Bagration +disliked it. + +Bagration drove up in a carriage to the house occupied by Barclay. +Barclay donned his sash and came out to meet and report to his senior +officer Bagration. + +Despite his seniority in rank Bagration, in this contest of +magnanimity, took his orders from Barclay, but, having submitted, +agreed with him less than ever. By the Emperor's orders Bagration +reported direct to him. He wrote to Arakcheev, the Emperor's +confidant: "It must be as my sovereign pleases, but I cannot work with +the Minister (meaning Barclay). For God's sake send me somewhere +else if only in command of a regiment. I cannot stand it here. +Headquarters are so full of Germans that a Russian cannot exist and +there is no sense in anything. I thought I was really serving my +sovereign and the Fatherland, but it turns out that I am serving +Barclay. I confess I do not want to." + +The swarm of Bronnitskis and Wintzingerodes and their like still +further embittered the relations between the commanders in chief, +and even less unity resulted. Preparations were made to fight the +French before Smolensk. A general was sent to survey the position. +This general, hating Barclay, rode to visit a friend of his own, a +corps commander, and, having spent the day with him, returned to +Barclay and condemned, as unsuitable from every point of view, the +battleground he had not seen. + +While disputes and intrigues were going on about the future field of +battle, and while we were looking for the French--having lost touch +with them--the French stumbled upon Neverovski's division and +reached the walls of Smolensk. + +It was necessary to fight an unexpected battle at Smolensk to save +our lines of communication. The battle was fought and thousands were +killed on both sides. + +Smolensk was abandoned contrary to the wishes of the Emperor and +of the whole people. But Smolensk was burned by its own +inhabitants-who had been misled by their governor. And these ruined +inhabitants, setting an example to other Russians, went to Moscow +thinking only of their own losses but kindling hatred of the foe. +Napoleon advanced farther and we retired, thus arriving at the very +result which caused his destruction. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The day after his son had left, Prince Nicholas sent for Princess +Mary to come to his study. + +"Well? Are you satisfied now?" said he. "You've made me quarrel with +my son! Satisfied, are you? That's all you wanted! Satisfied?... It +hurts me, it hurts. I'm old and weak and this is what you wanted. Well +then, gloat over it! Gloat over it!" + +After that Princess Mary did not see her father for a whole week. He +was ill and did not leave his study. + +Princess Mary noticed to her surprise that during this illness the +old prince not only excluded her from his room, but did not admit +Mademoiselle Bourienne either. Tikhon alone attended him. + +At the end of the week the prince reappeared and resumed his +former way of life, devoting himself with special activity to building +operations and the arrangement of the gardens and completely +breaking off his relations with Mademoiselle Bourienne. His looks +and cold tone to his daughter seemed to say: "There, you see? You +plotted against me, you lied to Prince Andrew about my relations +with that Frenchwoman and made me quarrel with him, but you see I need +neither her nor you!" + +Princess Mary spent half of every day with little Nicholas, watching +his lessons, teaching him Russian and music herself, and talking to +Dessalles; the rest of the day she spent over her books, with her +old nurse, or with "God's folk" who sometimes came by the back door to +see her. + +Of the war Princess Mary thought as women do think about wars. She +feared for her brother who was in it, was horrified by and amazed at +the strange cruelty that impels men to kill one another, but she did +not understand the significance of this war, which seemed to her +like all previous wars. She did not realize the significance of this +war, though Dessalles with whom she constantly conversed was +passionately interested in its progress and tried to explain his own +conception of it to her, and though the "God's folk" who came to see +her reported, in their own way, the rumors current among the people of +an invasion by Antichrist, and though Julie (now Princess +Drubetskaya), who had resumed correspondence with her, wrote patriotic +letters from Moscow. + +"I write you in Russian, my good friend," wrote Julie in her +Frenchified Russian, "because I have a detestation for all the French, +and the same for their language which I cannot support to hear +spoken.... We in Moscow are elated by enthusiasm for our adored +Emperor. + +"My poor husband is enduring pains and hunger in Jewish taverns, but +the news which I have inspires me yet more. + +"You heard probably of the heroic exploit of Raevski, embracing +his two sons and saying: 'I will perish with them but we will not be +shaken!' And truly though the enemy was twice stronger than we, we +were unshakable. We pass the time as we can, but in war as in war! The +princesses Aline and Sophie sit whole days with me, and we, unhappy +widows of live men, make beautiful conversations over our charpie, +only you, my friend, are missing..." and so on. + +The chief reason Princess Mary did not realize the full significance +of this war was that the old prince never spoke of it, did not +recognize it, and laughed at Dessalles when he mentioned it at dinner. +The prince's tone was so calm and confident that Princess Mary +unhesitatingly believed him. + +All that July the old prince was exceedingly active and even +animated. He planned another garden and began a new building for the +domestic serfs. The only thing that made Princess Mary anxious about +him was that he slept very little and, instead of sleeping in his +study as usual, changed his sleeping place every day. One day he would +order his camp bed to be set up in the glass gallery, another day he +remained on the couch or on the lounge chair in the drawing room and +dozed there without undressing, while--instead of Mademoiselle +Bourienne--a serf boy read to him. Then again he would spend a night +in the dining room. + +On August 1, a second letter was received from Prince Andrew. In his +first letter which came soon after he had left home, Prince Andrew had +dutifully asked his father's forgiveness for what he had allowed +himself to say and begged to be restored to his favor. To this +letter the old prince had replied affectionately, and from that time +had kept the Frenchwoman at a distance. Prince Andrew's second letter, +written near Vitebsk after the French had occupied that town, gave a +brief account of the whole campaign, enclosed for them a plan he had +drawn and forecasts as to the further progress of the war. In this +letter Prince Andrew pointed out to his father the danger of staying +at Bald Hills, so near the theater of war and on the army's direct +line of march, and advised him to move to Moscow. + +At dinner that day, on Dessalles' mentioning that the French were +said to have already entered Vitebsk, the old prince remembered his +son's letter. + +"There was a letter from Prince Andrew today," he said to Princess +Mary--"Haven't you read it?" + +"No, Father," she replied in a frightened voice. + +She could not have read the letter as she did not even know it had +arrived. + +"He writes about this war," said the prince, with the ironic smile +that had become habitual to him in speaking of the present war. + +"That must be very interesting," said Dessalles. "Prince Andrew is +in a position to know..." + +"Oh, very interesting!" said Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +"Go and get it for me," said the old prince to Mademoiselle +Bourienne. "You know--under the paperweight on the little table." + +Mademoiselle Bourienne jumped up eagerly. + +"No, don't!" he exclaimed with a frown. "You go, Michael Ivanovich." + +Michael Ivanovich rose and went to the study. But as soon as he +had left the room the old prince, looking uneasily round, threw down +his napkin and went himself. + +"They can't do anything... always make some muddle," he muttered. + +While he was away Princess Mary, Dessalles, Mademoiselle +Bourienne, and even little Nicholas exchanged looks in silence. The +old prince returned with quick steps, accompanied by Michael +Ivanovich, bringing the letter and a plan. These he put down beside +him--not letting anyone read them at dinner. + +On moving to the drawing room he handed the letter to Princess +Mary and, spreading out before him the plan of the new building and +fixing his eyes upon it, told her to read the letter aloud. When she +had done so Princess Mary looked inquiringly at her father. He was +examining the plan, evidently engrossed in his own ideas. + +"What do you think of it, Prince?" Dessalles ventured to ask. + +"I? I?..." said the prince as if unpleasantly awakened, and not +taking his eyes from the plan of the building. + +"Very possibly the theater of war will move so near to us that..." + +"Ha ha ha! The theater of war!" said the prince. "I have said and +still say that the theater of war is Poland and the enemy will never +get beyond the Niemen." + +Dessalles looked in amazement at the prince, who was talking of +the Niemen when the enemy was already at the Dnieper, but Princess +Mary, forgetting the geographical position of the Niemen, thought that +what her father was saying was correct. + +"When the snow melts they'll sink in the Polish swamps. Only they +could fail to see it," the prince continued, evidently thinking of the +campaign of 1807 which seemed to him so recent. "Bennigsen should have +advanced into Prussia sooner, then things would have taken a different +turn..." + +"But, Prince," Dessalles began timidly, "the letter mentions +Vitebsk...." + +"Ah, the letter? Yes..." replied the prince peevishly. "Yes... +yes..." His face suddenly took on a morose expression. He paused. +"Yes, he writes that the French were beaten at... at... what river +is it?" + +Dessalles dropped his eyes. + +"The prince says nothing about that," he remarked gently. + +"Doesn't he? But I didn't invent it myself." + +No one spoke for a long time. + +"Yes... yes... Well, Michael Ivanovich," he suddenly went on, +raising his head and pointing to the plan of the building, "tell me +how you mean to alter it...." + +Michael Ivanovich went up to the plan, and the prince after speaking +to him about the building looked angrily at Princess Mary and +Dessalles and went to his own room. + +Princess Mary saw Dessalles' embarrassed and astonished look fixed +on her father, noticed his silence, and was struck by the fact that +her father had forgotten his son's letter on the drawing-room table; +but she was not only afraid to speak of it and ask Dessalles the +reason of his confusion and silence, but was afraid even to think +about it. + +In the evening Michael Ivanovich, sent by the prince, came to +Princess Mary for Prince Andrew's letter which had been forgotten in +the drawing room. She gave it to him and, unpleasant as it was to +her to do so, ventured to ask him what her father was doing. + +"Always busy," replied Michael Ivanovich with a respectfully +ironic smile which caused Princess Mary to turn pale. "He's worrying +very much about the new building. He has been reading a little, but +now"--Michael Ivanovich went on, lowering his voice--"now he's at +his desk, busy with his will, I expect." (One of the prince's favorite +occupations of late had been the preparation of some papers he meant +to leave at his death and which he called his "will.") + +"And Alpatych is being sent to Smolensk?" asked Princess Mary. + +"Oh, yes, he has been waiting to start for some time." + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +When Michael Ivanovich returned to the study with the letter, the +old prince, with spectacles on and a shade over his eyes, was +sitting at his open bureau with screened candles, holding a paper in +his outstretched hand, and in a somewhat dramatic attitude was reading +his manuscript--his "Remarks" as he termed it--which was to be +transmitted to the Emperor after his death. + +When Michael Ivanovich went in there were tears in the prince's eyes +evoked by the memory of the time when the paper he was now reading had +been written. He took the letter from Michael Ivanovich's hand, put it +in his pocket, folded up his papers, and called in Alpatych who had +long been waiting. + +The prince had a list of things to be bought in Smolensk and, +walking up and down the room past Alpatych who stood by the door, he +gave his instructions. + +"First, notepaper--do you hear? Eight quires, like this sample, +gilt-edged... it must be exactly like the sample. Varnish, sealing +wax, as in Michael Ivanovich's list." + +He paced up and down for a while and glanced at his notes. + +"Then hand to the governor in person a letter about the deed." + +Next, bolts for the doors of the new building were wanted and had to +be of a special shape the prince had himself designed, and a leather +case had to be ordered to keep the "will" in. + +The instructions to Alpatych took over two hours and still the +prince did not let him go. He sat down, sank into thought, closed +his eyes, and dozed off. Alpatych made a slight movement. + +"Well, go, go! If anything more is wanted I'll send after you." + +Alpatych went out. The prince again went to his bureau, glanced into +it, fingered his papers, closed the bureau again, and sat down at +the table to write to the governor. + +It was already late when he rose after sealing the letter. He wished +to sleep, but he knew he would not be able to and that most depressing +thoughts came to him in bed. So he called Tikhon and went through +the rooms with him to show him where to set up the bed for that night. + +He went about looking at every corner. Every place seemed +unsatisfactory, but worst of all was his customary couch in the study. +That couch was dreadful to him, probably because of the oppressive +thoughts he had had when lying there. It was unsatisfactory +everywhere, but the corner behind the piano in the sitting room was +better than other places: he had never slept there yet. + +With the help of a footman Tikhon brought in the bedstead and +began putting it up. + +"That's not right! That's not right!" cried the prince, and +himself pushed it a few inches from the corner and then closer in +again. + +"Well, at last I've finished, now I'll rest," thought the prince, +and let Tikhon undress him. + +Frowning with vexation at the effort necessary to divest himself +of his coat and trousers, the prince undressed, sat down heavily on +the bed, and appeared to be meditating as he looked contemptuously +at his withered yellow legs. He was not meditating, but only deferring +the moment of making the effort to lift those legs up and turn over on +the bed. "Ugh, how hard it is! Oh, that this toil might end and you +would release me!" thought he. Pressing his lips together he made that +effort for the twenty-thousandth time and lay down. But hardly had +he done so before he felt the bed rocking backwards and forwards +beneath him as if it were breathing heavily and jolting. This happened +to him almost every night. He opened his eyes as they were closing. + +"No peace, damn them!" he muttered, angry he knew not with whom. "Ah +yes, there was something else important, very important, that I was +keeping till I should be in bed. The bolts? No, I told him about them. +No, it was something, something in the drawing room. Princess Mary +talked some nonsense. Dessalles, that fool, said something. +Something in my pocket--can't remember..." + +"Tikhon, what did we talk about at dinner?" + +"About Prince Michael..." + +"Be quiet, quiet!" The prince slapped his hand on the table. "Yes, I +know, Prince Andrew's letter! Princess Mary read it. Dessalles said +something about Vitebsk. Now I'll read it." + +He had the letter taken from his pocket and the table--on which +stood a glass of lemonade and a spiral wax candle--moved close to +the bed, and putting on his spectacles he began reading. Only now in +the stillness of the night, reading it by the faint light under the +green shade, did he grasp its meaning for a moment. + +"The French at Vitebsk, in four days' march they may be at Smolensk; +perhaps are already there! Tikhon!" Tikhon jumped up. "No, no, I don't +want anything!" he shouted. + +He put the letter under the candlestick and closed his eyes. And +there rose before him the Danube at bright noonday: reeds, the Russian +camp, and himself a young general without a wrinkle on his ruddy face, +vigorous and alert, entering Potemkin's gaily colored tent, and a +burning sense of jealousy of "the favorite" agitated him now as +strongly as it had done then. He recalled all the words spoken at that +first meeting with Potemkin. And he saw before him a plump, rather +sallow-faced, short, stout woman, the Empress Mother, with her smile +and her words at her first gracious reception of him, and then that +same face on the catafalque, and the encounter he had with Zubov +over her coffin about his right to kiss her hand. + +"Oh, quicker, quicker! To get back to that time and have done with +all the present! Quicker, quicker--and that they should leave me in +peace!" + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Bald Hills, Prince Nicholas Bolkonski's estate, lay forty miles east +from Smolensk and two miles from the main road to Moscow. + +The same evening that the prince gave his instructions to +Alpatych, Dessalles, having asked to see Princess Mary, told her that, +as the prince was not very well and was taking no steps to secure +his safety, though from Prince Andrew's letter it was evident that +to remain at Bald Hills might be dangerous, he respectfully advised +her to send a letter by Alpatych to the Provincial Governor at +Smolensk, asking him to let her know the state of affairs and the +extent of the danger to which Bald Hills was exposed. Dessalles +wrote this letter to the Governor for Princess Mary, she signed it, +and it was given to Alpatych with instructions to hand it to the +Governor and to come back as quickly as possible if there was danger. + +Having received all his orders Alpatych, wearing a white beaver hat--a +present from the prince--and carrying a stick as the prince did, went +out accompanied by his family. Three well-fed roans stood ready +harnessed to a small conveyance with a leather hood. + +The larger bell was muffled and the little bells on the harness +stuffed with paper. The prince allowed no one at Bald Hills to drive +with ringing bells; but on a long journey Alpatych liked to have them. +His satellites--the senior clerk, a countinghouse clerk, a scullery +maid, a cook, two old women, a little pageboy, the coachman, and +various domestic serfs--were seeing him off. + +His daughter placed chintz-covered down cushions for him to sit on +and behind his back. His old sister-in-law popped in a small bundle, +and one of the coachmen helped him into the vehicle. + +"There! There! Women's fuss! Women, women!" said Alpatych, puffing +and speaking rapidly just as the prince did, and he climbed into the +trap. + +After giving the clerk orders about the work to be done, Alpatych, +not trying to imitate the prince now, lifted the hat from his bald +head and crossed himself three times. + +"If there is anything... come back, Yakov Alpatych! For Christ's +sake think of us!" cried his wife, referring to the rumors of war +and the enemy. + +"Women, women! Women's fuss!" muttered Alpatych to himself and +started on his journey, looking round at the fields of yellow rye +and the still-green, thickly growing oats, and at other quite black +fields just being plowed a second time. + +As he went along he looked with pleasure at the year's splendid crop +of corn, scrutinized the strips of ryefield which here and there +were already being reaped, made his calculations as to the sowing +and the harvest, and asked himself whether he had not forgotten any of +the prince's orders. + +Having baited the horses twice on the way, he arrived at the town +toward evening on the fourth of August. + +Alpatych kept meeting and overtaking baggage trains and troops on +the road. As he approached Smolensk he heard the sounds of distant +firing, but these did not impress him. What struck him most was the +sight of a splendid field of oats in which a camp had been pitched and +which was being mown down by the soldiers, evidently for fodder. +This fact impressed Alpatych, but in thinking about his own business +he soon forgot it. + +All the interests of his life for more than thirty years had been +bounded by the will of the prince, and he never went beyond that +limit. Everything not connected with the execution of the prince's +orders did not interest and did not even exist for Alpatych. + +On reaching Smolensk on the evening of the fourth of August he put +up in the Gachina suburb across the Dnieper, at the inn kept by +Ferapontov, where he had been in the habit of putting up for the +last thirty years. Some thirty years ago Ferapontov, by Alpatych's +advice, had bought a wood from the prince, had begun to trade, and now +had a house, an inn, and a corn dealer's shop in that province. He was +a stout, dark, red-faced peasant in the forties, with thick lips, a +broad knob of a nose, similar knobs over his black frowning brows, and +a round belly. + +Wearing a waistcoat over his cotton shirt, Ferapontov was standing +before his shop which opened onto the street. On seeing Alpatych he +went up to him. + +"You're welcome, Yakov Alpatych. Folks are leaving the town, but you +have come to it," said he. + +"Why are they leaving the town?" asked Alpatych. + +"That's what I say. Folks are foolish! Always afraid of the French." + +"Women's fuss, women's fuss!" said Alpatych. + +"Just what I think, Yakov Alpatych. What I say is: orders have +been given not to let them in, so that must be right. And the peasants +are asking three rubles for carting--it isn't Christian!" + +Yakov Alpatych heard without heeding. He asked for a samovar and for +hay for his horses, and when he had had his tea he went to bed. + +All night long troops were moving past the inn. Next morning +Alpatych donned a jacket he wore only in town and went out on +business. It was a sunny morning and by eight o'clock it was already +hot. "A good day for harvesting," thought Alpatych. + +From beyond the town firing had been heard since early morning. At +eight o'clock the booming of cannon was added to the sound of +musketry. Many people were hurrying through the streets and there were +many soldiers, but cabs were still driving about, tradesmen stood at +their shops, and service was being held in the churches as usual. +Alpatych went to the shops, to government offices, to the post office, +and to the Governor's. In the offices and shops and at the post office +everyone was talking about the army and about the enemy who was +already attacking the town, everybody was asking what should be +done, and all were trying to calm one another. + +In front of the Governor's house Alpatych found a large number of +people, Cossacks, and a traveling carriage of the Governor's. At the +porch he met two of the landed gentry, one of whom he knew. This +man, an ex-captain of police, was saying angrily: + +"It's no joke, you know! It's all very well if you're single. 'One +man though undone is but one,' as the proverb says, but with +thirteen in your family and all the property... They've brought us +to utter ruin! What sort of governors are they to do that? They +ought to be hanged--the brigands!..." + +"Oh come, that's enough!" said the other. + +"What do I care? Let him hear! We're not dogs," said the +ex-captain of police, and looking round he noticed Alpatych. + +"Oh, Yakov Alpatych! What have you come for?" + +"To see the Governor by his excellency's order," answered +Alpatych, lifting his head and proudly thrusting his hand into the +bosom of his coat as he always did when he mentioned the prince.... +"He has ordered me to inquire into the position of affairs," he added. + +"Yes, go and find out!" shouted the angry gentleman. "They've +brought things to such a pass that there are no carts or +anything!... There it is again, do you hear?" said he, pointing +in the direction whence came the sounds of firing. + +"They've brought us all to ruin... the brigands!" he repeated, and +descended the porch steps. + +Alpatych swayed his head and went upstairs. In the waiting room were +tradesmen, women, and officials, looking silently at one another. +The door of the Governor's room opened and they all rose and moved +forward. An official ran out, said some words to a merchant, called +a stout official with a cross hanging on his neck to follow him, and +vanished again, evidently wishing to avoid the inquiring looks and +questions addressed to him. Alpatych moved forward and next time the +official came out addressed him, one hand placed in the breast of +his buttoned coat, and handed him two letters. + +"To his Honor Baron Asch, from General-in-Chief Prince Bolkonski," +he announced with such solemnity and significance that the official +turned to him and took the letters. + +A few minutes later the Governor received Alpatych and hurriedly +said to him: + +"Inform the prince and princess that I knew nothing: I acted on +the highest instructions--here..." and he handed a paper to +Alpatych. "Still, as the prince is unwell my advice is that they +should go to Moscow. I am just starting myself. Inform them..." + +But the Governor did not finish: a dusty perspiring officer ran into +the room and began to say something in French. The Governor's face +expressed terror. + +"Go," he said, nodding his head to Alpatych, and began questioning +the officer. + +Eager, frightened, helpless glances were turned on Alpatych when +he came out of the Governor's room. Involuntarily listening now to the +firing, which had drawn nearer and was increasing in strength, +Alpatych hurried to his inn. The paper handed to him by the Governor +said this: + + +"I assure you that the town of Smolensk is not in the slightest +danger as yet and it is unlikely that it will be threatened with +any. I from the one side and Prince Bagration from the other are +marching to unite our forces before Smolensk, which junction will be +effected on the 22nd instant, and both armies with their united forces +will defend our compatriots of the province entrusted to your care +till our efforts shall have beaten back the enemies of our Fatherland, +or till the last warrior in our valiant ranks has perished. From +this you will see that you have a perfect right to reassure the +inhabitants of Smolensk, for those defended by two such brave armies +may feel assured of victory." (Instructions from Barclay de Tolly to +Baron Asch, the civil governor of Smolensk, 1812.) + + +People were anxiously roaming about the streets. + +Carts piled high with household utensils, chairs, and cupboards kept +emerging from the gates of the yards and moving along the streets. +Loaded carts stood at the house next to Ferapontov's and women were +wailing and lamenting as they said good-by. A small watchdog ran round +barking in front of the harnessed horses. + +Alpatych entered the innyard at a quicker pace than usual and went +straight to the shed where his horses and trap were. The coachman +was asleep. He woke him up, told him to harness, and went into the +passage. From the host's room came the sounds of a child crying, the +despairing sobs of a woman, and the hoarse angry shouting of +Ferapontov. The cook began running hither and thither in the passage +like a frightened hen, just as Alpatych entered. + +"He's done her to death. Killed the mistress!... Beat her... dragged +her about so!..." + +"What for?" asked Alpatych. + +"She kept begging to go away. She's a woman! 'Take me away,' says +she, 'don't let me perish with my little children! Folks,' she says, +'are all gone, so why,' she says, 'don't we go?' And he began +beating and pulling her about so!" + +At these words Alpatych nodded as if in approval, and not wishing to +hear more went to the door of the room opposite the innkeeper's, where +he had left his purchases. + +"You brute, you murderer!" screamed a thin, pale woman who, with a +baby in her arms and her kerchief torn from her head, burst through +the door at that moment and down the steps into the yard. + +Ferapontov came out after her, but on seeing Alpatych adjusted his +waistcoat, smoothed his hair, yawned, and followed Alpatych into the +opposite room. + +"Going already?" said he. + +Alpatych, without answering or looking at his host, sorted his +packages and asked how much he owed. + +"We'll reckon up! Well, have you been to the Governor's?" asked +Ferapontov. "What has been decided?" + +Alpatych replied that the Governor had not told him anything +definite. + +"With our business, how can we get away?" said Ferapontov. "We'd +have to pay seven rubles a cartload to Dorogobuzh and I tell them +they're not Christians to ask it! Selivanov, now, did a good stroke +last Thursday--sold flour to the army at nine rubles a sack. Will +you have some tea?" he added. + +While the horses were being harnessed Alpatych and Ferapontov over +their tea talked of the price of corn, the crops, and the good weather +for harvesting. + +"Well, it seems to be getting quieter," remarked Ferapontov, +finishing his third cup of tea and getting up. "Ours must have got the +best of it. The orders were not to let them in. So we're in force, +it seems.... They say the other day Matthew Ivanych Platov drove +them into the river Marina and drowned some eighteen thousand in one +day." + +Alpatych collected his parcels, handed them to the coachman who +had come in, and settled up with the innkeeper. The noise of wheels, +hoofs, and bells was heard from the gateway as a little trap passed +out. + +It was by now late in the afternoon. Half the street was in +shadow, the other half brightly lit by the sun. Alpatych looked out of +the window and went to the door. Suddenly the strange sound of a +far-off whistling and thud was heard, followed by a boom of cannon +blending into a dull roar that set the windows rattling. + +He went out into the street: two men were running past toward the +bridge. From different sides came whistling sounds and the thud of +cannon balls and bursting shells falling on the town. But these sounds +were hardly heard in comparison with the noise of the firing outside +the town and attracted little attention from the inhabitants. The town +was being bombarded by a hundred and thirty guns which Napoleon had +ordered up after four o'clock. The people did not at once realize +the meaning of this bombardment. + +At first the noise of the falling bombs and shells only aroused +curiosity. Ferapontov's wife, who till then had not ceased wailing +under the shed, became quiet and with the baby in her arms went to the +gate, listening to the sounds and looking in silence at the people. + +The cook and a shop assistant came to the gate. With lively +curiosity everyone tried to get a glimpse of the projectiles as they +flew over their heads. Several people came round the corner talking +eagerly. + +"What force!" remarked one. "Knocked the roof and ceiling all to +splinters!" + +"Routed up the earth like a pig," said another. + +"That's grand, it bucks one up!" laughed the first. "Lucky you +jumped aside, or it would have wiped you out!" + +Others joined those men and stopped and told how cannon balls had +fallen on a house close to them. Meanwhile still more projectiles, now +with the swift sinister whistle of a cannon ball, now with the +agreeable intermittent whistle of a shell, flew over people's heads +incessantly, but not one fell close by, they all flew over. Alpatych +was getting into his trap. The innkeeper stood at the gate. + +"What are you staring at?" he shouted to the cook, who in her red +skirt, with sleeves rolled up, swinging her bare elbows, had stepped +to the corner to listen to what was being said. + +"What marvels!" she exclaimed, but hearing her master's voice she +turned back, pulling down her tucked-up skirt. + +Once more something whistled, but this time quite close, swooping +downwards like a little bird; a flame flashed in the middle of the +street, something exploded, and the street was shrouded in smoke. + +"Scoundrel, what are you doing?" shouted the innkeeper, rushing to +the cook. + +At that moment the pitiful wailing of women was heard from different +sides, the frightened baby began to cry, and people crowded silently +with pale faces round the cook. The loudest sound in that crowd was +her wailing. + +"Oh-h-h! Dear souls, dear kind souls! Don't let me die! My good +souls!..." + +Five minutes later no one remained in the street. The cook, with her +thigh broken by a shell splinter, had been carried into the kitchen. +Alpatych, his coachman, Ferapontov's wife and children and the house +porter were all sitting in the cellar, listening. The roar of guns, +the whistling of projectiles, and the piteous moaning of the cook, +which rose above the other sounds, did not cease for a moment. The +mistress rocked and hushed her baby and when anyone came into the +cellar asked in a pathetic whisper what had become of her husband +who had remained in the street. A shopman who entered told her that +her husband had gone with others to the cathedral, whence they were +fetching the wonder-working icon of Smolensk. + +Toward dusk the cannonade began to subside. Alpatych left the cellar +and stopped in the doorway. The evening sky that had been so clear was +clouded with smoke, through which, high up, the sickle of the new moon +shone strangely. Now that the terrible din of the guns had ceased a +hush seemed to reign over the town, broken only by the rustle of +footsteps, the moaning, the distant cries, and the crackle of fires +which seemed widespread everywhere. The cook's moans had now subsided. +On two sides black curling clouds of smoke rose and spread from the +fires. Through the streets soldiers in various uniforms walked or +ran confusedly in different directions like ants from a ruined +ant-hill. Several of them ran into Ferapontov's yard before Alpatych's +eyes. Alpatych went out to the gate. A retreating regiment, +thronging and hurrying, blocked the street. + +Noticing him, an officer said: "The town is being abandoned. Get +away, get away!" and then, turning to the soldiers, shouted: + +"I'll teach you to run into the yards!" + +Alpatych went back to the house, called the coachman, and told him +to set off. Ferapontov's whole household came out too, following +Alpatych and the coachman. The women, who had been silent till then, +suddenly began to wail as they looked at the fires--the smoke and even +the flames of which could be seen in the failing twilight--and as if +in reply the same kind of lamentation was heard from other parts of +the street. Inside the shed Alpatych and the coachman arranged the +tangled reins and traces of their horses with trembling hands. + +As Alpatych was driving out of the gate he saw some ten soldiers +in Ferapontov's open shop, talking loudly and filling their bags and +knapsacks with flour and sunflower seeds. Just then Ferapontov +returned and entered his shop. On seeing the soldiers he was about +to shout at them, but suddenly stopped and, clutching at his hair, +burst into sobs and laughter: + +"Loot everything, lads! Don't let those devils get it!" he cried, +taking some bags of flour himself and throwing them into the street. + +Some of the soldiers were frightened and ran away, others went on +filling their bags. On seeing Alpatych, Ferapontov turned to him: + +"Russia is done for!" he cried. "Alpatych, I'll set the place on +fire myself. We're done for!..." and Ferapontov ran into the yard. + +Soldiers were passing in a constant stream along the street blocking +it completely, so that Alpatych could not pass out and had to wait. +Ferapontov's wife and children were also sitting in a cart waiting +till it was possible to drive out. + +Night had come. There were stars in the sky and the new moon shone +out amid the smoke that screened it. On the sloping descent to the +Dnieper Alpatych's cart and that of the innkeeper's wife, which were +slowly moving amid the rows of soldiers and of other vehicles, had +to stop. In a side street near the crossroads where the vehicles had +stopped, a house and some shops were on fire. This fire was already +burning itself out. The flames now died down and were lost in the +black smoke, now suddenly flared up again brightly, lighting up with +strange distinctness the faces of the people crowding at the +crossroads. Black figures flitted about before the fire, and through +the incessant crackling of the flames talking and shouting could be +heard. Seeing that his trap would not be able to move on for some +time, Alpatych got down and turned into the side street to look at the +fire. Soldiers were continually rushing backwards and forwards near +it, and he saw two of them and a man in a frieze coat dragging burning +beams into another yard across the street, while others carried +bundles of hay. + +Alpatych went up to a large crowd standing before a high barn +which was blazing briskly. The walls were all on fire and the back +wall had fallen in, the wooden roof was collapsing, and the rafters +were alight. The crowd was evidently watching for the roof to fall in, +and Alpatych watched for it too. + +"Alpatych!" a familiar voice suddenly hailed the old man. + +"Mercy on us! Your excellency!" answered Alpatych, immediately +recognizing the voice of his young prince. + +Prince Andrew in his riding cloak, mounted on a black horse, was +looking at Alpatych from the back of the crowd. + +"Why are you here?" he asked. + +"Your... your excellency," stammered Alpatych and broke into sobs. +"Are we really lost? Master!..." + +"Why are you here?" Prince Andrew repeated. + +At that moment the flames flared up and showed his young master's +pale worn face. Alpatych told how he had been sent there and how +difficult it was to get away. + +"Are we really quite lost, your excellency?" he asked again. + +Prince Andrew without replying took out a notebook and raising his +knee began writing in pencil on a page he tore out. He wrote to his +sister: + + +"Smolensk is being abandoned. Bald Hills will be occupied by the +enemy within a week. Set off immediately for Moscow. Let me know at +once when you will start. Send by special messenger to Usvyazh." + + +Having written this and given the paper to Alpatych, he told him how +to arrange for departure of the prince, the princess, his son, and the +boy's tutor, and how and where to let him know immediately. Before +he had had time to finish giving these instructions, a chief of +staff followed by a suite galloped up to him. + +"You are a colonel?" shouted the chief of staff with a German +accent, in a voice familiar to Prince Andrew. "Houses are set on +fire in your presence and you stand by! What does this mean? You +will answer for it!" shouted Berg, who was now assistant to the +chief of staff of the commander of the left flank of the infantry of +the first army, a place, as Berg said, "very agreeable and well en +evidence." + +Prince Andrew looked at him and without replying went on speaking to +Alpatych. + +"So tell them that I shall await a reply till the tenth, and if by +the tenth I don't receive news that they have all got away I shall +have to throw up everything and come myself to Bald Hills." + +"Prince," said Berg, recognizing Prince Andrew, "I only spoke +because I have to obey orders, because I always do obey exactly.... +You must please excuse me," he went on apologetically. + +Something cracked in the flames. The fire died down for a moment and +wreaths of black smoke rolled from under the roof. There was another +terrible crash and something huge collapsed. + +"Ou-rou-rou!" yelled the crowd, echoing the crash of the +collapsing roof of the barn, the burning grain in which diffused a +cakelike aroma all around. The flames flared up again, lighting the +animated, delighted, exhausted faces of the spectators. + +The man in the frieze coat raised his arms and shouted: + +"It's fine, lads! Now it's raging... It's fine!" + +"That's the owner himself," cried several voices. + +"Well then," continued Prince Andrew to Alpatych, "report to them as +I have told you"; and not replying a word to Berg who was now mute +beside him, he touched his horse and rode down the side street. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +From Smolensk the troops continued to retreat, followed by the +enemy. On the tenth of August the regiment Prince Andrew commanded was +marching along the highroad past the avenue leading to Bald Hills. +Heat and drought had continued for more than three weeks. Each day +fleecy clouds floated across the sky and occasionally veiled the +sun, but toward evening the sky cleared again and the sun set in +reddish-brown mist. Heavy night dews alone refreshed the earth. The +unreaped corn was scorched and shed its grain. The marshes dried up. +The cattle lowed from hunger, finding no food on the sun-parched +meadows. Only at night and in the forests while the dew lasted was +there any freshness. But on the road, the highroad along which the +troops marched, there was no such freshness even at night or when +the road passed through the forest; the dew was imperceptible on the +sandy dust churned up more than six inches deep. As soon as day dawned +the march began. The artillery and baggage wagons moved noiselessly +through the deep dust that rose to the very hubs of the wheels, and +the infantry sank ankle-deep in that soft, choking, hot dust that +never cooled even at night. Some of this dust was kneaded by the +feet and wheels, while the rest rose and hung like a cloud over the +troops, settling in eyes, ears, hair, and nostrils, and worst of all +in the lungs of the men and beasts as they moved along that road. +The higher the sun rose the higher rose that cloud of dust, and +through the screen of its hot fine particles one could look with naked +eye at the sun, which showed like a huge crimson ball in the unclouded +sky. There was no wind, and the men choked in that motionless +atmosphere. They marched with handkerchiefs tied over their noses +and mouths. When they passed through a village they all rushed to +the wells and fought for the water and drank it down to the mud. + +Prince Andrew was in command of a regiment, and the management of +that regiment, the welfare of the men and the necessity of receiving +and giving orders, engrossed him. The burning of Smolensk and its +abandonment made an epoch in his life. A novel feeling of anger +against the foe made him forget his own sorrow. He was entirely +devoted to the affairs of his regiment and was considerate and kind to +his men and officers. In the regiment they called him "our prince," +were proud of him and loved him. But he was kind and gentle only to +those of his regiment, to Timokhin and the like--people quite new to +him, belonging to a different world and who could not know and +understand his past. As soon as he came across a former acquaintance +or anyone from the staff, he bristled up immediately and grew +spiteful, ironical, and contemptuous. Everything that reminded him +of his past was repugnant to him, and so in his relations with that +former circle he confined himself to trying to do his duty and not +to be unfair. + +In truth everything presented itself in a dark and gloomy light to +Prince Andrew, especially after the abandonment of Smolensk on the +sixth of August (he considered that it could and should have been +defended) and after his sick father had had to flee to Moscow, +abandoning to pillage his dearly beloved Bald Hills which he had built +and peopled. But despite this, thanks to his regiment, Prince Andrew +had something to think about entirely apart from general questions. +Two days previously he had received news that his father, son, and +sister had left for Moscow; and though there was nothing for him to do +at Bald Hills, Prince Andrew with a characteristic desire to foment +his own grief decided that he must ride there. + +He ordered his horse to be saddled and, leaving his regiment on +the march, rode to his father's estate where he had been born and +spent his childhood. Riding past the pond where there used always to +be dozens of women chattering as they rinsed their linen or beat it +with wooden beetles, Prince Andrew noticed that there was not a soul +about and that the little washing wharf, torn from its place and +half submerged, was floating on its side in the middle of the pond. He +rode to the keeper's lodge. No one at the stone entrance gates of +the drive and the door stood open. Grass had already begun to grow +on the garden paths, and horses and calves were straying in the +English park. Prince Andrew rode up to the hothouse; some of the glass +panes were broken, and of the trees in tubs some were overturned and +others dried up. He called for Taras the gardener, but no one replied. +Having gone round the corner of the hothouse to the ornamental garden, +he saw that the carved garden fence was broken and branches of the +plum trees had been torn off with the fruit. An old peasant whom +Prince Andrew in his childhood had often seen at the gate was +sitting on a green garden seat, plaiting a bast shoe. + +He was deaf and did not hear Prince Andrew ride up. He was sitting +on the seat the old prince used to like to sit on, and beside him +strips of bast were hanging on the broken and withered branch of a +magnolia. + +Prince Andrew rode up to the house. Several limes in the old +garden had been cut down and a piebald mare and her foal were +wandering in front of the house among the rosebushes. The shutters +were all closed, except at one window which was open. A little serf +boy, seeing Prince Andrew, ran into the house. Alpatych, having sent +his family away, was alone at Bald Hills and was sitting indoors +reading the Lives of the Saints. On hearing that Prince Andrew had +come, he went out with his spectacles on his nose, buttoning his coat, +and, hastily stepping up, without a word began weeping and kissing +Prince Andrew's knee. + +Then, vexed at his own weakness, he turned away and began to +report on the position of affairs. Everything precious and valuable +had been removed to Bogucharovo. Seventy quarters of grain had also +been carted away. The hay and the spring corn, of which Alpatych +said there had been a remarkable crop that year, had been commandeered +by the troops and mown down while still green. The peasants were +ruined; some of them too had gone to Bogucharovo, only a few remained. + +Without waiting to hear him out, Prince Andrew asked: + +"When did my father and sister leave?" meaning when did they leave +for Moscow. + +Alpatych, understanding the question to refer to their departure for +Bogucharovo, replied that they had left on the seventh and again +went into details concerning the estate management, asking for +instructions. + +"Am I to let the troops have the oats, and to take a receipt for +them? We have still six hundred quarters left," he inquired. + +"What am I to say to him?" thought Prince Andrew, looking down on +the old man's bald head shining in the sun and seeing by the +expression on his face that the old man himself understood how +untimely such questions were and only asked them to allay his grief. + +"Yes, let them have it," replied Prince Andrew. + +"If you noticed some disorder in the garden," said Alpatych, "it was +impossible to prevent it. Three regiments have been here and spent the +night, dragoons mostly. I took down the name and rank of their +commanding officer, to hand in a complaint about it." + +"Well, and what are you going to do? Will you stay here if the enemy +occupies the place?" asked Prince Andrew. + +Alpatych turned his face to Prince Andrew, looked at him, and +suddenly with a solemn gesture raised his arm. + +"He is my refuge! His will be done!" he exclaimed. + +A group of bareheaded peasants was approaching across the meadow +toward the prince. + +"Well, good-by!" said Prince Andrew, bending over to Alpatych. +"You must go away too, take away what you can and tell the serfs to go +to the Ryazan estate or to the one near Moscow." + +Alpatych clung to Prince Andrew's leg and burst into sobs. Gently +disengaging himself, the prince spurred his horse and rode down the +avenue at a gallop. + +The old man was still sitting in the ornamental garden, like a fly +impassive on the face of a loved one who is dead, tapping the last on +which he was making the bast shoe, and two little girls, running out +from the hot house carrying in their skirts plums they had plucked +from the trees there, came upon Prince Andrew. On seeing the young +master, the elder one with frightened look clutched her younger +companion by the hand and hid with her behind a birch tree, not +stopping to pick up some green plums they had dropped. + +Prince Andrew turned away with startled haste, unwilling to let them +see that they had been observed. He was sorry for the pretty +frightened little girl, was afraid of looking at her, and yet felt +an irresistible desire to do so. A new sensation of comfort and relief +came over him when, seeing these girls, he realized the existence of +other human interests entirely aloof from his own and just as +legitimate as those that occupied him. Evidently these girls +passionately desired one thing--to carry away and eat those green +plums without being caught--and Prince Andrew shared their wish for +the success of their enterprise. He could not resist looking at them +once more. Believing their danger past, they sprang from their +ambush and, chirruping something in their shrill little voices and +holding up their skirts, their bare little sunburned feet scampered +merrily and quickly across the meadow grass. + +Prince Andrew was somewhat refreshed by having ridden off the +dusty highroad along which the troops were moving. But not far from +Bald Hills he again came out on the road and overtook his regiment +at its halting place by the dam of a small pond. It was past one +o'clock. The sun, a red ball through the dust, burned and scorched his +back intolerably through his black coat. The dust always hung +motionless above the buzz of talk that came from the resting troops. +There was no wind. As he crossed the dam Prince Andrew smelled the +ooze and freshness of the pond. He longed to get into that water, +however dirty it might be, and he glanced round at the pool from +whence came sounds of shrieks and laughter. The small, muddy, green +pond had risen visibly more than a foot, flooding the dam, because +it was full of the naked white bodies of soldiers with brick-red +hands, necks, and faces, who were splashing about in it. All this +naked white human flesh, laughing and shrieking, floundered about in +that dirty pool like carp stuffed into a watering can, and the +suggestion of merriment in that floundering mass rendered it specially +pathetic. + +One fair-haired young soldier of the third company, whom Prince +Andrew knew and who had a strap round the calf of one leg, crossed +himself, stepped back to get a good run, and plunged into the water; +another, a dark noncommissioned officer who was always shaggy, stood +up to his waist in the water joyfully wriggling his muscular figure +and snorted with satisfaction as he poured the water over his head +with hands blackened to the wrists. There were sounds of men +slapping one another, yelling, and puffing. + +Everywhere on the bank, on the dam, and in the pond, there was +healthy, white, muscular flesh. The officer, Timokhin, with his red +little nose, standing on the dam wiping himself with a towel, felt +confused at seeing the prince, but made up his mind to address him +nevertheless. + +"It's very nice, your excellency! Wouldn't you like to?" said he. + +"It's dirty," replied Prince Andrew, making a grimace. + +"We'll clear it out for you in a minute," said Timokhin, and, +still undressed, ran off to clear the men out of the pond. + +"The prince wants to bathe." + +"What prince? Ours?" said many voices, and the men were in such +haste to clear out that the prince could hardly stop them. He +decided that he would rather wash himself with water in the barn. + +"Flesh, bodies, cannon fodder!" he thought, and he looked at his own +naked body and shuddered, not from cold but from a sense of disgust +and horror he did not himself understand, aroused by the sight of that +immense number of bodies splashing about in the dirty pond. + + +On the seventh of August Prince Bagration wrote as follows from +his quarters at Mikhaylovna on the Smolensk road: + + +Dear Count Alexis Andreevich--(He was writing to Arakcheev but +knew that his letter would be read by the Emperor, and therefore +weighed every word in it to the best of his ability.) + +I expect the Minister [Barclay de Tolly] has already reported the +abandonment of Smolensk to the enemy. It is pitiable and sad, and +the whole army is in despair that this most important place has been +wantonly abandoned. I, for my part, begged him personally most +urgently and finally wrote him, but nothing would induce him to +consent. I swear to you on my honor that Napoleon was in such a fix as +never before and might have lost half his army but could not have +taken Smolensk. Our troops fought, and are fighting, as never +before. With fifteen thousand men I held the enemy at bay for +thirty-five hours and beat him; but he would not hold out even for +fourteen hours. It is disgraceful, a stain on our army, and as for +him, he ought, it seems to me, not to live. If he reports that our +losses were great, it is not true; perhaps about four thousand, not +more, and not even that; but even were they ten thousand, that's +war! But the enemy has lost masses... + +What would it have cost him to hold out for another two days? They +would have had to retire of their own accord, for they had no water +for men or horses. He gave me his word he would not retreat, but +suddenly sent instructions that he was retiring that night. We +cannot fight in this way, or we may soon bring the enemy to Moscow... + +There is a rumor that you are thinking of peace. God forbid that you +should make peace after all our sacrifices and such insane retreats! +You would set all Russia against you and every one of us would feel +ashamed to wear the uniform. If it has come to this--we must fight +as long as Russia can and as long as there are men able to stand... + +One man ought to be in command, and not two. Your Minister may +perhaps be good as a Minister, but as a general he is not merely bad +but execrable, yet to him is entrusted the fate of our whole +country.... I am really frantic with vexation; forgive my writing +boldly. It is clear that the man who advocates the conclusion of a +peace, and that the Minister should command the army, does not love +our sovereign and desires the ruin of us all. So I write you +frankly: call out the militia. For the Minister is leading these +visitors after him to Moscow in a most masterly way. The whole army +feels great suspicion of the Imperial aide-de-camp Wolzogen. He is +said to be more Napoleon's man than ours, and he is always advising +the Minister. I am not merely civil to him but obey him like a +corporal, though I am his senior. This is painful, but, loving my +benefactor and sovereign, I submit. Only I am sorry for the Emperor +that he entrusts our fine army to such as he. Consider that on our +retreat we have lost by fatigue and left in the hospital more than +fifteen thousand men, and had we attacked this would not have +happened. Tell me, for God's sake, what will Russia, our mother +Russia, say to our being so frightened, and why are we abandoning +our good and gallant Fatherland to such rabble and implanting feelings +of hatred and shame in all our subjects? What are we scared at and +of whom are we afraid? I am not to blame that the Minister is +vacillating, a coward, dense, dilatory, and has all bad qualities. The +whole army bewails it and calls down curses upon him... + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Among the innumerable categories applicable to the phenomena of +human life one may discriminate between those in which substance +prevails and those in which form prevails. To the latter--as +distinguished from village, country, provincial, or even Moscow +life--we may allot Petersburg life, and especially the life of its +salons. That life of the salons is unchanging. Since the year 1805 +we had made peace and had again quarreled with Bonaparte and had +made constitutions and unmade them again, but the salons of Anna +Pavlovna and Helene remained just as they had been--the one seven and +the other five years before. At Anna Pavlovna's they talked with +perplexity of Bonaparte's successes just as before and saw in them and +in the subservience shown to him by the European sovereigns a +malicious conspiracy, the sole object of which was to cause +unpleasantness and anxiety to the court circle of which Anna +Pavlovna was the representative. And in Helene's salon, which +Rumyantsev himself honored with his visits, regarding Helene as a +remarkably intelligent woman, they talked with the same ecstasy in +1812 as in 1808 of the "great nation" and the "great man," and +regretted our rupture with France, a rupture which, according to them, +ought to be promptly terminated by peace. + +Of late, since the Emperor's return from the army, there had been some +excitement in these conflicting salon circles and some demonstrations of +hostility to one another, but each camp retained its own tendency. In +Anna Pavlovna's circle only those Frenchmen were admitted who were +deep-rooted legitimists, and patriotic views were expressed to the +effect that one ought not to go to the French theater and that to +maintain the French troupe was costing the government as much as a whole +army corps. The progress of the war was eagerly followed, and only the +reports most flattering to our army were circulated. In the French +circle of Helene and Rumyantsev the reports of the cruelty of the enemy +and of the war were contradicted and all Napoleon's attempts at +conciliation were discussed. In that circle they discountenanced those +who advised hurried preparations for a removal to Kazan of the court and +the girls' educational establishments under the patronage of the Dowager +Empress. In Helene's circle the war in general was regarded as a series +of formal demonstrations which would very soon end in peace, and the +view prevailed expressed by Bilibin--who now in Petersburg was quite at +home in Helene's house, which every clever man was obliged to +visit--that not by gunpowder but by those who invented it would matters +be settled. In that circle the Moscow enthusiasm--news of which had +reached Petersburg simultaneously with the Emperor's return--was +ridiculed sarcastically and very cleverly, though with much caution. + +Anna Pavlovna's circle on the contrary was enraptured by this +enthusiasm and spoke of it as Plutarch speaks of the deeds of the +ancients. Prince Vasili, who still occupied his former important +posts, formed a connecting link between these two circles. He +visited his "good friend Anna Pavlovna" as well as his daughter's +"diplomatic salon," and often in his constant comings and goings +between the two camps became confused and said at Helene's what he +should have said at Anna Pavlovna's and vice versa. + +Soon after the Emperor's return Prince Vasili in a conversation +about the war at Anna Pavlovna's severely condemned Barclay de +Tolly, but was undecided as to who ought to be appointed commander +in chief. One of the visitors, usually spoken of as "a man of great +merit," having described how he had that day seen Kutuzov, the newly +chosen chief of the Petersburg militia, presiding over the +enrollment of recruits at the Treasury, cautiously ventured to suggest +that Kutuzov would be the man to satisfy all requirements. + +Anna Pavlovna remarked with a melancholy smile that Kutuzov had done +nothing but cause the Emperor annoyance. + +"I have talked and talked at the Assembly of the Nobility," Prince +Vasili interrupted, "but they did not listen to me. I told them his +election as chief of the militia would not please the Emperor. They +did not listen to me. + +"It's all this mania for opposition," he went on. "And who for? It is +all because we want to ape the foolish enthusiasm of those +Muscovites," Prince Vasili continued, forgetting for a moment that +though at Helene's one had to ridicule the Moscow enthusiasm, at Anna +Pavlovna's one had to be ecstatic about it. But he retrieved his +mistake at once. "Now, is it suitable that Count Kutuzov, the oldest +general in Russia, should preside at that tribunal? He will get +nothing for his pains! How could they make a man commander in chief +who cannot mount a horse, who drops asleep at a council, and has the +very worst morals! A good reputation he made for himself at Bucharest! +I don't speak of his capacity as a general, but at a time like this +how they appoint a decrepit, blind old man, positively blind? A fine +idea to have a blind general! He can't see anything. To play +blindman's bluff? He can't see at all!" + +No one replied to his remarks. + +This was quite correct on the twenty-fourth of July. But on the +twenty-ninth of July Kutuzov received the title of Prince. This +might indicate a wish to get rid of him, and therefore Prince Vasili's +opinion continued to be correct though he was not now in any hurry +to express it. But on the eighth of August a committee, consisting +of Field Marshal Saltykov, Arakcheev, Vyazmitinov, Lopukhin, and +Kochubey met to consider the progress of the war. This committee +came to the conclusion that our failures were due to a want of unity +in the command and though the members of the committee were aware of +the Emperor's dislike of Kutuzov, after a short deliberation they +agreed to advise his appointment as commander in chief. That same +day Kutuzov was appointed commander in chief with full powers over the +armies and over the whole region occupied by them. + +On the ninth of August Prince Vasili at Anna Pavlovna's again met +the "man of great merit." The latter was very attentive to Anna +Pavlovna because he wanted to be appointed director of one of the +educational establishments for young ladies. Prince Vasili entered the +room with the air of a happy conqueror who has attained the object +of his desires. + +"Well, have you heard the great news? Prince Kutuzov is field +marshal! All dissensions are at an end! I am so glad, so delighted! At +last we have a man!" said he, glancing sternly and significantly round +at everyone in the drawing room. + +The "man of great merit," despite his desire to obtain the post of +director, could not refrain from reminding Prince Vasili of his former +opinion. Though this was impolite to Prince Vasili in Anna +Pavlovna's drawing room, and also to Anna Pavlovna herself who had +received the news with delight, he could not resist the temptation. + +"But, Prince, they say he is blind!" said he, reminding Prince +Vasili of his own words. + +"Eh? Nonsense! He sees well enough," said Prince Vasili rapidly, +in a deep voice and with a slight cough--the voice and cough with +which he was wont to dispose of all difficulties. + +"He sees well enough," he added. "And what I am so pleased about," +he went on, "is that our sovereign has given him full powers over +all the armies and the whole region--powers no commander in chief ever +had before. He is a second autocrat," he concluded with a victorious +smile. + +"God grant it! God grant it!" said Anna Pavlovna. + +The "man of great merit," who was still a novice in court circles, +wishing to flatter Anna Pavlovna by defending her former position on +this question, observed: + +"It is said that the Emperor was reluctant to give Kutuzov those +powers. They say he blushed like a girl to whom Joconde is read, +when he said to Kutuzov: 'Your Emperor and the Fatherland award you +this honor.'" + +"Perhaps the heart took no part in that speech," said Anna Pavlovna. + +"Oh, no, no!" warmly rejoined Prince Vasili, who would not now yield +Kutuzov to anyone; in his opinion Kutuzov was not only admirable +himself, but was adored by everybody. "No, that's impossible," said +he, "for our sovereign appreciated him so highly before." + +"God grant only that Prince Kutuzov assumes real power and does +not allow anyone to put a spoke in his wheel," observed Anna Pavlovna. + +Understanding at once to whom she alluded, Prince Vasili said in a +whisper: + +"I know for a fact that Kutuzov made it an absolute condition that +the Tsarevich should not be with the army. Do you know what he said to +the Emperor?" + +And Prince Vasili repeated the words supposed to have been spoken by +Kutuzov to the Emperor. "I can neither punish him if he does wrong nor +reward him if he does right." + +"Oh, a very wise man is Prince Kutuzov! I have known him a long +time!" + +"They even say," remarked the "man of great merit" who did not yet +possess courtly tact, "that his excellency made it an express +condition that the sovereign himself should not be with the army." + +As soon as he said this both Prince Vasili and Anna Pavlovna +turned away from him and glanced sadly at one another with a sigh at +his naivete. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +While this was taking place in Petersburg the French had already +passed Smolensk and were drawing nearer and nearer to Moscow. +Napoleon's historian Thiers, like other of his historians, trying to +justify his hero says that he was drawn to the walls of Moscow against +his will. He is as right as other historians who look for the +explanation of historic events in the will of one man; he is as +right as the Russian historians who maintain that Napoleon was drawn +to Moscow by the skill of the Russian commanders. Here besides the law +of retrospection, which regards all the past as a preparation for +events that subsequently occur, the law of reciprocity comes in, +confusing the whole matter. A good chessplayer having lost a game is +sincerely convinced that his loss resulted from a mistake he made +and looks for that mistake in the opening, but forgets that at each +stage of the game there were similar mistakes and that none of his +moves were perfect. He only notices the mistake to which he pays +attention, because his opponent took advantage of it. How much more +complex than this is the game of war, which occurs under certain +limits of time, and where it is not one will that manipulates lifeless +objects, but everything results from innumerable conflicts of +various wills! + +After Smolensk Napoleon sought a battle beyond Dorogobuzh at Vyazma, +and then at Tsarevo-Zaymishche, but it happened that owing to a +conjunction of innumerable circumstances the Russians could not give +battle till they reached Borodino, seventy miles from Moscow. From +Vyazma Napoleon ordered a direct advance on Moscow. + +Moscou, la capitale asiatique de ce grand empire, la ville sacree +des peuples d'Alexandre, Moscou avec ses innombrables eglises en forme +de pagodes chinoises,* this Moscow gave Napoleon's imagination no +rest. On the march from Vyazma to Tsarevo-Zaymishche he rode his light +bay bobtailed ambler accompanied by his Guards, his bodyguard, his +pages, and aides-de-camp. Berthier, his chief of staff, dropped behind +to question a Russian prisoner captured by the cavalry. Followed by +Lelorgne d'Ideville, an interpreter, he overtook Napoleon at a +gallop and reined in his horse with an amused expression. + + +*"Moscow, the Asiatic capital of this great empire, the sacred +city of Alexander's people, Moscow with its innumerable churches +shaped like Chinese pagodas." + + +"Well?" asked Napoleon. + +"One of Platov's Cossacks says that Platov's corps is joining up +with the main army and that Kutuzov has been appointed commander in +chief. He is a very shrewd and garrulous fellow." + +Napoleon smiled and told them to give the Cossack a horse and +bring the man to him. He wished to talk to him himself. Several +adjutants galloped off, and an hour later, Lavrushka, the serf Denisov +had handed over to Rostov, rode up to Napoleon in an orderly's +jacket and on a French cavalry saddle, with a merry, and tipsy face. +Napoleon told him to ride by his side and began questioning him. + +"You are a Cossack?" + +"Yes, a Cossack, your Honor." + +"The Cossack, not knowing in what company he was, for Napoleon's +plain appearance had nothing about it that would reveal to an Oriental +mind the presence of a monarch, talked with extreme familiarity of the +incidents of the war," says Thiers, narrating this episode. In reality +Lavrushka, having got drunk the day before and left his master +dinnerless, had been whipped and sent to the village in quest of +chickens, where he engaged in looting till the French took him +prisoner. Lavrushka was one of those coarse, bare-faced lackeys who +have seen all sorts of things, consider it necessary to do +everything in a mean and cunning way, are ready to render any sort +of service to their master, and are keen at guessing their master's +baser impulses, especially those prompted by vanity and pettiness. + +Finding himself in the company of Napoleon, whose identity he had +easily and surely recognized, Lavrushka was not in the least abashed +but merely did his utmost to gain his new master's favor. + +He knew very well that this was Napoleon, but Napoleon's presence +could no more intimidate him than Rostov's, or a sergeant major's with +the rods, would have done, for he had nothing that either the sergeant +major or Napoleon could deprive him of. + +So he rattled on, telling all the gossip he had heard among the +orderlies. Much of it true. But when Napoleon asked him whether the +Russians thought they would beat Bonaparte or not, Lavrushka screwed +up his eyes and considered. + +In this question he saw subtle cunning, as men of his type see +cunning in everything, so he frowned and did not answer immediately. + +"It's like this," he said thoughtfully, "if there's a battle soon, +yours will win. That's right. But if three days pass, then after that, +well, then that same battle will not soon be over." + +Lelorgne d'Ideville smilingly interpreted this speech to Napoleon +thus: "If a battle takes place within the next three days the French +will win, but if later, God knows what will happen." Napoleon did +not smile, though he was evidently in high good humor, and he +ordered these words to be repeated. + +Lavrushka noticed this and to entertain him further, pretending +not to know who Napoleon was, added: + +"We know that you have Bonaparte and that he has beaten everybody in +the world, but we are a different matter..."--without knowing why or +how this bit of boastful patriotism slipped out at the end. + +The interpreter translated these words without the last phrase, +and Bonaparte smiled. "The young Cossack made his mighty +interlocutor smile," says Thiers. After riding a few paces in silence, +Napoleon turned to Berthier and said he wished to see how the news +that he was talking to the Emperor himself, to that very Emperor who +had written his immortally victorious name on the Pyramids, would +affect this enfant du Don.* + + +*"Child of the Don." + + +The fact was accordingly conveyed to Lavrushka. + +Lavrushka, understanding that this was done to perplex him and +that Napoleon expected him to be frightened, to gratify his new +masters promptly pretended to be astonished and awe-struck, opened his +eyes wide, and assumed the expression he usually put on when taken +to be whipped. "As soon as Napoleon's interpreter had spoken," says +Thiers, "the Cossack, seized by amazement, did not utter another word, +but rode on, his eyes fixed on the conqueror whose fame had reached +him across the steppes of the East. All his loquacity was suddenly +arrested and replaced by a naive and silent feeling of admiration. +Napoleon, after making the Cossack a present, had him set free like +a bird restored to its native fields." + +Napoleon rode on, dreaming of the Moscow that so appealed to his +imagination, and "the bird restored to its native fields" galloped +to our outposts, inventing on the way all that had not taken place but +that he meant to relate to his comrades. What had really taken place +he did not wish to relate because it seemed to him not worth +telling. He found the Cossacks, inquired for the regiment operating +with Platov's detachment and by evening found his master, Nicholas +Rostov, quartered at Yankovo. Rostov was just mounting to go for a +ride round the neighboring villages with Ilyin; he let Lavrushka +have another horse and took him along with him. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Princess Mary was not in Moscow and out of danger as Prince Andrew +supposed. + +After the return of Alpatych from Smolensk the old prince suddenly +seemed to awake as from a dream. He ordered the militiamen to be +called up from the villages and armed, and wrote a letter to the +commander in chief informing him that he had resolved to remain at +Bald Hills to the last extremity and to defend it, leaving to the +commander in chief's discretion to take measures or not for the +defense of Bald Hills, where one of Russia's oldest generals would +be captured or killed, and he announced to his household that he would +remain at Bald Hills. + +But while himself remaining, he gave instructions for the +departure of the princess and Dessalles with the little prince to +Bogucharovo and thence to Moscow. Princess Mary, alarmed by her +father's feverish and sleepless activity after his previous apathy, +could not bring herself to leave him alone and for the first time in +her life ventured to disobey him. She refused to go away and her +father's fury broke over her in a terrible storm. He repeated every +injustice he had ever inflicted on her. Trying to convict her, he told +her she had worn him out, had caused his quarrel with his son, had +harbored nasty suspicions of him, making it the object of her life +to poison his existence, and he drove her from his study telling her +that if she did not go away it was all the same to him. He declared +that he did not wish to remember her existence and warned her not to +dare to let him see her. The fact that he did not, as she had +feared, order her to be carried away by force but only told her not to +let him see her cheered Princess Mary. She knew it was a proof that in +the depth of his soul he was glad she was remaining at home and had +not gone away. + +The morning after little Nicholas had left, the old prince donned +his full uniform and prepared to visit the commander in chief. His +caleche was already at the door. Princess Mary saw him walk out of the +house in his uniform wearing all his orders and go down the garden +to review his armed peasants and domestic serfs. She sat by the window +listening to his voice which reached her from the garden. Suddenly +several men came running up the avenue with frightened faces. + +Princess Mary ran out to the porch, down the flower-bordered path, +and into the avenue. A large crowd of militiamen and domestics were +moving toward her, and in their midst several men were supporting by +the armpits and dragging along a little old man in a uniform and +decorations. She ran up to him and, in the play of the sunlight that +fell in small round spots through the shade of the lime-tree avenue, +could not be sure what change there was in his face. All she could see +was that his former stern and determined expression had altered to one +of timidity and submission. On seeing his daughter he moved his +helpless lips and made a hoarse sound. It was impossible to make out +what he wanted. He was lifted up, carried to his study, and laid on +the very couch he had so feared of late. + +The doctor, who was fetched that same night, bled him and said +that the prince had had a seizure paralyzing his right side. + +It was becoming more and more dangerous to remain at Bald Hills, and +next day they moved the prince to Bogucharovo, the doctor accompanying +him. + +By the time they reached Bogucharovo, Dessalles and the little +prince had already left for Moscow. + +For three weeks the old prince lay stricken by paralysis in the +new house Prince Andrew had built at Bogucharovo, ever in the same +state, getting neither better nor worse. He was unconscious and lay +like a distorted corpse. He muttered unceasingly, his eyebrows and +lips twitching, and it was impossible to tell whether he understood +what was going on around him or not. One thing was certain--that he +was suffering and wished to say something. But what it was, no one +could tell: it might be some caprice of a sick and half-crazy man, +or it might relate to public affairs, or possibly to family concerns. + +The doctor said this restlessness did not mean anything and was +due to physical causes; but Princess Mary thought he wished to tell +her something, and the fact that her presence always increased his +restlessness confirmed her opinion. + +He was evidently suffering both physically and mentally. There was +no hope of recovery. It was impossible for him to travel, it would not +do to let him die on the road. "Would it not be better if the end +did come, the very end?" Princess Mary sometimes thought. Night and +day, hardly sleeping at all, she watched him and, terrible to say, +often watched him not with hope of finding signs of improvement but +wishing to find symptoms of the approach of the end. + +Strange as it was to her to acknowledge this feeling in herself, yet +there it was. And what seemed still more terrible to her was that +since her father's illness began (perhaps even sooner, when she stayed +with him expecting something to happen), all the personal desires +and hopes that had been forgotten or sleeping within her had awakened. +Thoughts that had not entered her mind for years--thoughts of a life +free from the fear of her father, and even the possibility of love and +of family happiness--floated continually in her imagination like +temptations of the devil. Thrust them aside as she would, questions +continually recurred to her as to how she would order her life now, +after that. These were temptations of the devil and Princess Mary knew +it. She knew that the sole weapon against him was prayer, and she +tried to pray. She assumed an attitude of prayer, looked at the icons, +repeated the words of a prayer, but she could not pray. She felt +that a different world had now taken possession of her--the life of +a world of strenuous and free activity, quite opposed to the spiritual +world in which till now she had been confined and in which her +greatest comfort had been prayer. She could not pray, could not +weep, and worldly cares took possession of her. + +It was becoming dangerous to remain in Bogucharovo. News of the +approach of the French came from all sides, and in one village, ten +miles from Bogucharovo, a homestead had been looted by French +marauders. + +The doctor insisted on the necessity of moving the prince; the +provincial Marshal of the Nobility sent an official to Princess Mary +to persuade her to get away as quickly as possible, and the head of +the rural police having come to Bogucharovo urged the same thing, +saying that the French were only some twenty-five miles away, that +French proclamations were circulating in the villages, and that if the +princess did not take her father away before the fifteenth, he could +not answer for the consequences. + +The princess decided to leave on the fifteenth. The cares of +preparation and giving orders, for which everyone came to her, +occupied her all day. She spent the night of the fourteenth as +usual, without undressing, in the room next to the one where the +prince lay. Several times, waking up, she heard his groans and +muttering, the creak of his bed, and the steps of Tikhon and the +doctor when they turned him over. Several times she listened at the +door, and it seemed to her that his mutterings were louder than +usual and that they turned him over oftener. She could not sleep and +several times went to the door and listened, wishing to enter but +not deciding to do so. Though he did not speak, Princess Mary saw +and knew how unpleasant every sign of anxiety on his account was to +him. She had noticed with what dissatisfaction he turned from the look +she sometimes involuntarily fixed on him. She knew that her going in +during the night at an unusual hour would irritate him. + +But never had she felt so grieved for him or so much afraid of +losing him. She recalled all her life with him and in every word and +act of his found an expression of his love of her. Occasionally amid +these memories temptations of the devil would surge into her +imagination: thoughts of how things would be after his death, and +how her new, liberated life would be ordered. But she drove these +thoughts away with disgust. Toward morning he became quiet and she +fell asleep. + +She woke late. That sincerity which often comes with waking showed +her clearly what chiefly concerned her about her father's illness. +On waking she listened to what was going on behind the door and, +hearing him groan, said to herself with a sigh that things were +still the same. + +"But what could have happened? What did I want? I want his death!" +she cried with a feeling of loathing for herself. + +She washed, dressed, said her prayers, and went out to the porch. In +front of it stood carriages without horses and things were being +packed into the vehicles. + +It was a warm, gray morning. Princess Mary stopped at the porch, +still horrified by her spiritual baseness and trying to arrange her +thoughts before going to her father. The doctor came downstairs and +went out to her. + +"He is a little better today," said he. "I was looking for you. +One can make out something of what he is saying. His head is +clearer. Come in, he is asking for you..." + +Princess Mary's heart beat so violently at this news that she grew +pale and leaned against the wall to keep from falling. To see him, +talk to him, feel his eyes on her now that her whole soul was +overflowing with those dreadful, wicked temptations, was a torment +of joy and terror. + +"Come," said the doctor. + +Princess Mary entered her father's room and went up to his bed. He +was lying on his back propped up high, and his small bony hands with +their knotted purple veins were lying on the quilt; his left eye gazed +straight before him, his right eye was awry, and his brows and lips +motionless. He seemed altogether so thin, small, and pathetic. His +face seemed to have shriveled or melted; his features had grown +smaller. Princess Mary went up and kissed his hand. His left hand +pressed hers so that she understood that he had long been waiting +for her to come. He twitched her hand, and his brows and lips quivered +angrily. + +She looked at him in dismay trying to guess what he wanted of her. +When she changed her position so that his left eye could see her +face he calmed down, not taking his eyes off her for some seconds. +Then his lips and tongue moved, sounds came, and he began to speak, +gazing timidly and imploringly at her, evidently afraid that she might +not understand. + +Straining all her faculties Princess Mary looked at him. The comic +efforts with which he moved his tongue made her drop her eyes and with +difficulty repress the sobs that rose to her throat. He said +something, repeating the same words several times. She could not +understand them, but tried to guess what he was saying and inquiringly +repeated the words he uttered. + +"Mmm...ar...ate...ate..." he repeated several times. + +It was quite impossible to understand these sounds. The doctor +thought he had guessed them, and inquiringly repeated: "Mary, are +you afraid?" The prince shook his head, again repeated the same +sounds. + +"My mind, my mind aches?" questioned Princess Mary. + +He made a mumbling sound in confirmation of this, took her hand, and +began pressing it to different parts of his breast as if trying to +find the right place for it. + +"Always thoughts... about you... thoughts..." he then uttered much +more clearly than he had done before, now that he was sure of being +understood. + +Princess Mary pressed her head against his hand, trying to hide +her sobs and tears. + +He moved his hand over her hair. + +"I have been calling you all night..." he brought out. + +"If only I had known..." she said through her tears. "I was afraid +to come in." + +He pressed her hand. + +"Weren't you asleep?" + +"No, I did not sleep," said Princess Mary, shaking her head. + +Unconsciously imitating her father, she now tried to express herself +as he did, as much as possible by signs, and her tongue too seemed +to move with difficulty. + +"Dear one... Dearest..." Princess Mary could not quite make out what +he had said, but from his look it was clear that he had uttered a +tender caressing word such as he had never used to her before. "Why +didn't you come in?" + +"And I was wishing for his death!" thought Princess Mary. + +He was silent awhile. + +"Thank you... daughter dear!... for all, for all... forgive!... +thank you!... forgive!... thank you!..." and tears began to flow +from his eyes. "Call Andrew!" he said suddenly, and a childish, +timid expression of doubt showed itself on his face as he spoke. + +He himself seemed aware that his demand was meaningless. So at least +it seemed to Princess Mary. + +"I have a letter from him," she replied. + +He glanced at her with timid surprise. + +"Where is he?" + +"He's with the army, Father, at Smolensk." + +He closed his eyes and remained silent a long time. Then as if in +answer to his doubts and to confirm the fact that now he understood +and remembered everything, he nodded his head and reopened his eyes. + +"Yes," he said, softly and distinctly. "Russia has perished. They've +destroyed her." + +And he began to sob, and again tears flowed from his eyes. +Princess Mary could no longer restrain herself and wept while she +gazed at his face. + +Again he closed his eyes. His sobs ceased, he pointed to his eyes, +and Tikhon, understanding him, wiped away the tears. + +Then he again opened his eyes and said something none of them +could understand for a long time, till at last Tikhon understood and +repeated it. Princess Mary had sought the meaning of his words in +the mood in which he had just been speaking. She thought he was +speaking of Russia, or Prince Andrew, of herself, of his grandson, +or of his own death, and so she could not guess his words. + +"Put on your white dress. I like it," was what he said. + +Having understood this Princess Mary sobbed still louder, and the +doctor taking her arm led her out to the veranda, soothing her and +trying to persuade her to prepare for her journey. When she had left +the room the prince again began speaking about his son, about the war, +and about the Emperor, angrily twitching his brows and raising his +hoarse voice, and then he had a second and final stroke. + +Princess Mary stayed on the veranda. The day had cleared, it was hot +and sunny. She could understand nothing, think of nothing and feel +nothing, except passionate love for her father, love such as she +thought she had never felt till that moment. She ran out sobbing +into the garden and as far as the pond, along the avenues of young +lime trees Prince Andrew had planted. + +"Yes... I... I... I wished for his death! Yes, I wanted it to end +quicker.... I wished to be at peace.... And what will become of me? +What use will peace be when he is no longer here?" Princess Mary +murmured, pacing the garden with hurried steps and pressing her +hands to her bosom which heaved with convulsive sobs. + +When she had completed the tour of the garden, which brought her +again to the house, she saw Mademoiselle Bourienne--who had remained +at Bogucharovo and did not wish to leave it--coming toward her with +a stranger. This was the Marshal of the Nobility of the district, +who had come personally to point out to the princess the necessity for +her prompt departure. Princess Mary listened without understanding +him; she led him to the house, offered him lunch, and sat down with +him. Then, excusing herself, she went to the door of the old +prince's room. The doctor came out with an agitated face and said +she could not enter. + +"Go away, Princess! Go away... go away!" + +She returned to the garden and sat down on the grass at the foot +of the slope by the pond, where no one could see her. She did not know +how long she had been there when she was aroused by the sound of a +woman's footsteps running along the path. She rose and saw Dunyasha +her maid, who was evidently looking for her, and who stopped +suddenly as if in alarm on seeing her mistress. + +"Please come, Princess... The Prince," said Dunyasha in a breaking +voice. + +"Immediately, I'm coming, I'm coming!" replied the princess +hurriedly, not giving Dunyasha time to finish what she was saying, and +trying to avoid seeing the girl she ran toward the house. + +"Princess, it's God's will! You must be prepared for everything," +said the Marshal, meeting her at the house door. + +"Let me alone; it's not true!" she cried angrily to him. + +The doctor tried to stop her. She pushed him aside and ran to her +father's door. "Why are these people with frightened faces stopping +me? I don't want any of them! And what are they doing here?" she +thought. She opened the door and the bright daylight in that +previously darkened room startled her. In the room were her nurse +and other women. They all drew back from the bed, making way for +her. He was still lying on the bed as before, but the stern expression +of his quiet face made Princess Mary stop short on the threshold. + +"No, he's not dead--it's impossible!" she told herself and +approached him, and repressing the terror that seized her, she pressed +her lips to his cheek. But she stepped back immediately. All the force +of the tenderness she had been feeling for him vanished instantly +and was replaced by a feeling of horror at what lay there before +her. "No, he is no more! He is not, but here where he was is something +unfamiliar and hostile, some dreadful, terrifying, and repellent +mystery!" And hiding her face in her hands, Princess Mary sank into +the arms of the doctor, who held her up. + + +In the presence of Tikhon and the doctor the women washed what had +been the prince, tied his head up with a handkerchief that the mouth +should not stiffen while open, and with another handkerchief tied +together the legs that were already spreading apart. Then they dressed +him in uniform with his decorations and placed his shriveled little +body on a table. Heaven only knows who arranged all this and when, but +it all got done as if of its own accord. Toward night candles were +burning round his coffin, a pall was spread over it, the floor was +strewn with sprays of juniper, a printed band was tucked in under +his shriveled head, and in a corner of the room sat a chanter +reading the psalms. + +Just as horses shy and snort and gather about a dead horse, so the +inmates of the house and strangers crowded into the drawing room round +the coffin--the Marshal, the village Elder, peasant women--and all +with fixed and frightened eyes, crossing themselves, bowed and +kissed the old prince's cold and stiffened hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Until Prince Andrew settled in Bogucharovo its owners had always +been absentees, and its peasants were of quite a different character +from those of Bald Hills. They differed from them in speech, dress, +and disposition. They were called steppe peasants. The old prince used +to approve of them for their endurance at work when they came to +Bald Hills to help with the harvest or to dig ponds, and ditches, +but he disliked them for their boorishness. + +Prince Andrew's last stay at Bogucharovo, when he introduced +hospitals and schools and reduced the quitrent the peasants had to +pay, had not softened their disposition but had on the contrary +strengthened in them the traits of character the old prince called +boorishness. Various obscure rumors were always current among them: at +one time a rumor that they would all be enrolled as Cossacks; at +another of a new religion to which they were all to be converted; then +of some proclamation of the Tsar's and of an oath to the Tsar Paul +in 1797 (in connection with which it was rumored that freedom had been +granted them but the landowners had stopped it), then of Peter +Fedorovich's return to the throne in seven years' time, when +everything would be made free and so "simple" that there would be no +restrictions. Rumors of the war with Bonaparte and his invasion were +connected in their minds with the same sort of vague notions of +Antichrist, the end of the world, and "pure freedom." + +In the vicinity of Bogucharovo were large villages belonging to +the crown or to owners whose serfs paid quitrent and could work +where they pleased. There were very few resident landlords in the +neighborhood and also very few domestic or literate serfs, and in +the lives of the peasantry of those parts the mysterious undercurrents +in the life of the Russian people, the causes and meaning of which are +so baffling to contemporaries, were more clearly and strongly +noticeable than among others. One instance, which had occurred some +twenty years before, was a movement among the peasants to emigrate +to some unknown "warm rivers." Hundreds of peasants, among them the +Bogucharovo folk, suddenly began selling their cattle and moving in +whole families toward the southeast. As birds migrate to somewhere +beyond the sea, so these men with their wives and children streamed to +the southeast, to parts where none of them had ever been. They set off +in caravans, bought their freedom one by one or ran away, and drove or +walked toward the "warm rivers." Many of them were punished, some sent +to Siberia, many died of cold and hunger on the road, many returned of +their own accord, and the movement died down of itself just as it +had sprung up, without apparent reason. But such undercurrents still +existed among the people and gathered new forces ready to manifest +themselves just as strangely, unexpectedly, and at the same time +simply, naturally, and forcibly. Now in 1812, to anyone living in +close touch with these people it was apparent that these undercurrents +were acting strongly and nearing an eruption. + +Alpatych, who had reached Bogucharovo shortly before the old +prince's death, noticed an agitation among the peasants, and that +contrary to what was happening in the Bald Hills district, where +over a radius of forty miles all the peasants were moving away and +leaving their villages to be devastated by the Cossacks, the +peasants in the steppe region round Bogucharovo were, it was +rumored, in touch with the French, received leaflets from them that +passed from hand to hand, and did not migrate. He learned from +domestic serfs loyal to him that the peasant Karp, who possessed great +influence in the village commune and had recently been away driving +a government transport, had returned with news that the Cossacks +were destroying deserted villages, but that the French did not harm +them. Alpatych also knew that on the previous day another peasant +had even brought from the village of Visloukhovo, which was occupied +by the French, a proclamation by a French general that no harm would +be done to the inhabitants, and if they remained they would be paid +for anything taken from them. As proof of this the peasant had brought +from Visloukhovo a hundred rubles in notes (he did not know that +they were false) paid to him in advance for hay. + +More important still, Alpatych learned that on the morning of the +very day he gave the village Elder orders to collect carts to move the +princess' luggage from Bogucharovo, there had been a village meeting +at which it had been decided not to move but to wait. Yet there was no +time to waste. On the fifteenth, the day of the old prince's death, +the Marshal had insisted on Princess Mary's leaving at once, as it was +becoming dangerous. He had told her that after the sixteenth he +could not be responsible for what might happen. On the evening of +the day the old prince died the Marshal went away, promising to return +next day for the funeral. But this he was unable to do, for he +received tidings that the French had unexpectedly advanced, and had +barely time to remove his own family and valuables from his estate. + +For some thirty years Bogucharovo had been managed by the village +Elder, Dron, whom the old prince called by the diminutive "Dronushka." + +Dron was one of those physically and mentally vigorous peasants +who grow big beards as soon as they are of age and go on unchanged +till they are sixty or seventy, without a gray hair or the loss of a +tooth, as straight and strong at sixty as at thirty. + +Soon after the migration to the "warm rivers," in which he had taken +part like the rest, Dron was made village Elder and overseer of +Bogucharovo, and had since filled that post irreproachably for +twenty-three years. The peasants feared him more than they did their +master. The masters, both the old prince and the young, and the +steward respected him and jestingly called him "the Minister." +During the whole time of his service Dron had never been drunk or ill, +never after sleepless nights or the hardest tasks had he shown the +least fatigue, and though he could not read he had never forgotten a +single money account or the number of quarters of flour in any of +the endless cartloads he sold for the prince, nor a single shock of +the whole corn crop on any single acre of the Bogucharovo fields. + +Alpatych, arriving from the devastated Bald Hills estate, sent for +his Dron on the day of the prince's funeral and told him to have +twelve horses got ready for the princess' carriages and eighteen carts +for the things to be removed from Bogucharovo. Though the peasants +paid quitrent, Alpatych thought no difficulty would be made about +complying with this order, for there were two hundred and thirty +households at work in Bogucharovo and the peasants were well to do. +But on hearing the order Dron lowered his eyes and remained silent. +Alpatych named certain peasants he knew, from whom he told him to take +the carts. + +Dron replied that the horses of these peasants were away carting. +Alpatych named others, but they too, according to Dron, had no +horses available: some horses were carting for the government, +others were too weak, and others had died for want of fodder. It +seemed that no horses could be had even for the carriages, much less +for the carting. + +Alpatych looked intently at Dron and frowned. Just as Dron was a +model village Elder, so Alpatych had not managed the prince's +estates for twenty years in vain. He was a model steward, possessing in +the highest degree the faculty of divining the needs and instincts +of those he dealt with. Having glanced at Dron he at once understood +that his answers did not express his personal views but the general +mood of the Bogucharovo commune, by which the Elder had already been +carried away. But he also knew that Dron, who had acquired property +and was hated by the commune, must be hesitating between the two +camps: the masters' and the serfs'. He noticed this hesitation in +Dron's look and therefore frowned and moved closer up to him. + +"Now just listen, Dronushka," said he. "Don't talk nonsense to me. +His excellency Prince Andrew himself gave me orders to move all the +people away and not leave them with the enemy, and there is an order +from the Tsar about it too. Anyone who stays is a traitor to the Tsar. +Do you hear?" + +"I hear," Dron answered without lifting his eyes. + +Alpatych was not satisfied with this reply. + +"Eh, Dron, it will turn out badly!" he said, shaking his head. + +"The power is in your hands," Dron rejoined sadly. + +"Eh, Dron, drop it!" Alpatych repeated, withdrawing his hand from +his bosom and solemnly pointing to the floor at Dron's feet. "I can +see through you and three yards into the ground under you," he +continued, gazing at the floor in front of Dron. + +Dron was disconcerted, glanced furtively at Alpatych and again +lowered his eyes. + +"You drop this nonsense and tell the people to get ready to leave +their homes and go to Moscow and to get carts ready for tomorrow +morning for the princess' things. And don't go to any meeting +yourself, do you hear?" + +Dron suddenly fell on his knees. + +"Yakov Alpatych, discharge me! Take the keys from me and discharge +me, for Christ's sake!" + +"Stop that!" cried Alpatych sternly. "I see through you and three +yards under you," he repeated, knowing that his skill in beekeeping, +his knowledge of the right time to sow the oats, and the fact that +he had been able to retain the old prince's favor for twenty years had +long since gained him the reputation of being a wizard, and that the +power of seeing three yards under a man is considered an attribute +of wizards. + +Dron got up and was about to say something, but Alpatych interrupted +him. + +"What is it you have got into your heads, eh?... What are you +thinking of, eh?" + +"What am I to do with the people?" said Dron. "They're quite +beside themselves; I have already told them..." + +"'Told them,' I dare say!" said Alpatych. "Are they drinking?" he +asked abruptly. + +"Quite beside themselves, Yakov Alpatych; they've fetched another +barrel." + +"Well, then, listen! I'll go to the police officer, and you tell +them so, and that they must stop this and the carts must be got +ready." + +"I understand." + +Alpatych did not insist further. He had managed people for a long +time and knew that the chief way to make them obey is to show no +suspicion that they can possibly disobey. Having wrung a submissive "I +understand" from Dron, Alpatych contented himself with that, though he +not only doubted but felt almost certain that without the help of +troops the carts would not be forthcoming. + +And so it was, for when evening came no carts had been provided. +In the village, outside the drink shop, another meeting was being +held, which decided that the horses should be driven out into the +woods and the carts should not be provided. Without saying anything of +this to the princess, Alpatych had his own belongings taken out of the +carts which had arrived from Bald Hills and had those horses got ready +for the princess' carriages. Meanwhile he went himself to the police +authorities. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +After her father's funeral Princess Mary shut herself up in her room +and did not admit anyone. A maid came to the door to say that Alpatych +was asking for orders about their departure. (This was before his talk +with Dron.) Princess Mary raised herself on the sofa on which she +had been lying and replied through the closed door that she did not +mean to go away and begged to be left in peace. + +The windows of the room in which she was lying looked westward. +She lay on the sofa with her face to the wall, fingering the buttons +of the leather cushion and seeing nothing but that cushion, and her +confused thoughts were centered on one subject--the irrevocability +of death and her own spiritual baseness, which she had not +suspected, but which had shown itself during her father's illness. She +wished to pray but did not dare to, dared not in her present state +of mind address herself to God. She lay for a long time in that +position. + +The sun had reached the other side of the house, and its slanting +rays shone into the open window, lighting up the room and part of +the morocco cushion at which Princess Mary was looking. The flow of +her thoughts suddenly stopped. Unconsciously she sat up, smoothed +her hair, got up, and went to the window, involuntarily inhaling the +freshness of the clear but windy evening. + +"Yes, you can well enjoy the evening now! He is gone and no one will +hinder you," she said to herself, and sinking into a chair she let her +head fall on the window sill. + +Someone spoke her name in a soft and tender voice from the garden +and kissed her head. She looked up. It was Mademoiselle Bourienne in a +black dress and weepers. She softly approached Princess Mary, +sighed, kissed her, and immediately began to cry. The princess +looked up at her. All their former disharmony and her own jealousy +recurred to her mind. But she remembered too how he had changed of +late toward Mademoiselle Bourienne and could not bear to see her, +thereby showing how unjust were the reproaches Princess Mary had +mentally addressed to her. "Besides, is it for me, for me who +desired his death, to condemn anyone?" she thought. + +Princess Mary vividly pictured to herself the position of +Mademoiselle Bourienne, whom she had of late kept at a distance, but +who yet was dependent on her and living in her house. She felt sorry +for her and held out her hand with a glance of gentle inquiry. +Mademoiselle Bourienne at once began crying again and kissed that +hand, speaking of the princess' sorrow and making herself a partner in +it. She said her only consolation was the fact that the princess +allowed her to share her sorrow, that all the old misunderstandings +should sink into nothing but this great grief; that she felt herself +blameless in regard to everyone, and that he, from above, saw her +affection and gratitude. The princess heard her, not heeding her words +but occasionally looking up at her and listening to the sound of her +voice. + +"Your position is doubly terrible, dear princess," said Mademoiselle +Bourienne after a pause. "I understand that you could not, and cannot, +think of yourself, but with my love for you I must do so.... Has +Alpatych been to you? Has he spoken to you of going away?" she asked. + +Princess Mary did not answer. She did not understand who was to go +or where to. "Is it possible to plan or think of anything now? Is it +not all the same?" she thought, and did not reply. + +"You know, chere Marie," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, "that we are +in danger--are surrounded by the French. It would be dangerous to move +now. If we go we are almost sure to be taken prisoners, and God +knows..." + +Princess Mary looked at her companion without understanding what she +was talking about. + +"Oh, if anyone knew how little anything matters to me now," she +said. "Of course I would on no account wish to go away from him.... +Alpatych did say something about going.... Speak to him; I can do +nothing, nothing, and don't want to...." + +"I've spoken to him. He hopes we should be in time to get away +tomorrow, but I think it would now be better to stay here," said +Mademoiselle Bourienne. "Because, you will agree, chere Marie, to fall +into the hands of the soldiers or of riotous peasants would be +terrible." + +Mademoiselle Bourienne took from her reticule a proclamation (not +printed on ordinary Russian paper) of General Rameau's, telling people +not to leave their homes and that the French authorities would +afford them proper protection. She handed this to the princess. + +"I think it would be best to appeal to that general," she continued, +"and I am sure that all due respect would be shown you." + +Princess Mary read the paper, and her face began to quiver with +stifled sobs. + +"From whom did you get this?" she asked. + +"They probably recognized that I am French, by my name," replied +Mademoiselle Bourienne blushing. + +Princess Mary, with the paper in her hand, rose from the window +and with a pale face went out of the room and into what had been +Prince Andrew's study. + +"Dunyasha, send Alpatych, or Dronushka, or somebody to me!" she +said, "and tell Mademoiselle Bourienne not to come to me," she +added, hearing Mademoiselle Bourienne's voice. "We must go at once, at +once!" she said, appalled at the thought of being left in the hands of +the French. + +"If Prince Andrew heard that I was in the power of the French! +That I, the daughter of Prince Nicholas Bolkonski, asked General +Rameau for protection and accepted his favor!" This idea horrified +her, made her shudder, blush, and feel such a rush of anger and +pride as she had never experienced before. All that was distressing, +and especially all that was humiliating, in her position rose +vividly to her mind. "They, the French, would settle in this house: M. +le General Rameau would occupy Prince Andrew's study and amuse himself +by looking through and reading his letters and papers. Mademoiselle +Bourienne would do the honors of Bogucharovo for him. I should be +given a small room as a favor, the soldiers would violate my +father's newly dug grave to steal his crosses and stars, they would +tell me of their victories over the Russians, and would pretend to +sympathize with my sorrow..." thought Princess Mary, not thinking +her own thoughts but feeling bound to think like her father and her +brother. For herself she did not care where she remained or what +happened to her, but she felt herself the representative of her dead +father and of Prince Andrew. Involuntarily she thought their +thoughts and felt their feelings. What they would have said and what +they would have done she felt bound to say and do. She went into +Prince Andrew's study, trying to enter completely into his ideas, +and considered her position. + +The demands of life, which had seemed to her annihilated by her +father's death, all at once rose before her with a new, previously +unknown force and took possession of her. + +Agitated and flushed she paced the room, sending now for Michael +Ivanovich and now for Tikhon or Dron. Dunyasha, the nurse, and the +other maids could not say in how far Mademoiselle Bourienne's +statement was correct. Alpatych was not at home, he had gone to the +police. Neither could the architect Michael Ivanovich, who on being +sent for came in with sleepy eyes, tell Princess Mary anything. With +just the same smile of agreement with which for fifteen years he had +been accustomed to answer the old prince without expressing views of +his own, he now replied to Princess Mary, so that nothing definite +could be got from his answers. The old valet Tikhon, with sunken, +emaciated face that bore the stamp of inconsolable grief, replied: +"Yes, Princess" to all Princess Mary's questions and hardly +refrained from sobbing as he looked at her. + +At length Dron, the village Elder, entered the room and with a +deep bow to Princess Mary came to a halt by the doorpost. + +Princess Mary walked up and down the room and stopped in front of +him. + +"Dronushka," she said, regarding as a sure friend this Dronushka who +always used to bring a special kind of gingerbread from his visit to +the fair at Vyazma every year and smilingly offer it to her, +"Dronushka, now since our misfortune..." she began, but could not go +on. + +"We are all in God's hands," said he, with a sigh. + +They were silent for a while. + +"Dronushka, Alpatych has gone off somewhere and I have no one to +turn to. Is it true, as they tell me, that I can't even go away?" + +"Why shouldn't you go away, your excellency? You can go," said Dron. + +"I was told it would be dangerous because of the enemy. Dear friend, +I can do nothing. I understand nothing. I have nobody! I want to go +away tonight or early tomorrow morning." + +Dron paused. He looked askance at Princess Mary and said: "There are +no horses; I told Yakov Alpatych so." + +"Why are there none?" asked the princess. + +"It's all God's scourge," said Dron. "What horses we had have been +taken for the army or have died--this is such a year! It's not a +case of feeding horses--we may die of hunger ourselves! As it is, some +go three days without eating. We've nothing, we've been ruined." + +Princess Mary listened attentively to what he told her. + +"The peasants are ruined? They have no bread?" she asked. + +"They're dying of hunger," said Dron. "It's not a case of carting." + +"But why didn't you tell me, Dronushka? Isn't it possible to help +them? I'll do all I can...." + +To Princess Mary it was strange that now, at a moment when such +sorrow was filling her soul, there could be rich people and poor, +and the rich could refrain from helping the poor. She had heard +vaguely that there was such a thing as "landlord's corn" which was +sometimes given to the peasants. She also knew that neither her father +nor her brother would refuse to help the peasants in need, she only +feared to make some mistake in speaking about the distribution of +the grain she wished to give. She was glad such cares presented +themselves, enabling her without scruple to forget her own grief. +She began asking Dron about the peasants' needs and what there was +in Bogucharovo that belonged to the landlord. + +"But we have grain belonging to my brother?" she said. + +"The landlord's grain is all safe," replied Dron proudly. "Our +prince did not order it to be sold." + +"Give it to the peasants, let them have all they need; I give you +leave in my brother's name," said she. + +Dron made no answer but sighed deeply. + +"Give them that corn if there is enough of it. Distribute it all. +I give this order in my brother's name; and tell them that what is +ours is theirs. We do not grudge them anything. Tell them so." + +Dron looked intently at the princess while she was speaking. + +"Discharge me, little mother, for God's sake! Order the keys to be +taken from me," said he. "I have served twenty-three years and have +done no wrong. Discharge me, for God's sake!" + +Princess Mary did not understand what he wanted of her or why he was +asking to be discharged. She replied that she had never doubted his +devotion and that she was ready to do anything for him and for the +peasants. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +An hour later Dunyasha came to tell the princess that Dron had come, +and all the peasants had assembled at the barn by the princess' +order and wished to have word with their mistress. + +"But I never told them to come," said Princess Mary. "I only told +Dron to let them have the grain." + +"Only, for God's sake, Princess dear, have them sent away and +don't go out to them. It's all a trick," said Dunyasha, "and when +Yakov Alpatych returns let us get away... and please don't..." + +"What is a trick?" asked Princess Mary in surprise. + +"I know it is, only listen to me for God's sake! Ask nurse too. They +say they don't agree to leave Bogucharovo as you ordered." + +"You're making some mistake. I never ordered them to go away," +said Princess Mary. "Call Dronushka." + +Dron came and confirmed Dunyasha's words; the peasants had come by +the princess' order. + +"But I never sent for them," declared the princess. "You must have +given my message wrong. I only said that you were to give them the +grain." + +Dron only sighed in reply. + +"If you order it they will go away," said he. + +"No, no. I'll go out to them," said Princess Mary, and in spite of +the nurse's and Dunyasha's protests she went out into the porch; Dron, +Dunyasha, the nurse, and Michael Ivanovich following her. + +"They probably think I am offering them the grain to bribe them to +remain here, while I myself go away leaving them to the mercy of the +French," thought Princess Mary. "I will offer them monthly rations and +housing at our Moscow estate. I am sure Andrew would do even more in +my place," she thought as she went out in the twilight toward the +crowd standing on the pasture by the barn. + +The men crowded closer together, stirred, and rapidly took off their +hats. Princess Mary lowered her eyes and, tripping over her skirt, +came close up to them. So many different eyes, old and young, were +fixed on her, and there were so many different faces, that she could +not distinguish any of them and, feeling that she must speak to them +all at once, did not know how to do it. But again the sense that she +represented her father and her brother gave her courage, and she +boldly began her speech. + +"I am very glad you have come," she said without raising her eyes, +and feeling her heart beating quickly and violently. "Dronushka +tells me that the war has ruined you. That is our common misfortune, +and I shall grudge nothing to help you. I am myself going away because +it is dangerous here... the enemy is near... because... I am giving +you everything, my friends, and I beg you to take everything, all +our grain, so that you may not suffer want! And if you have been +told that I am giving you the grain to keep you here--that is not +true. On the contrary, I ask you to go with all your belongings to our +estate near Moscow, and I promise you I will see to it that there +you shall want for nothing. You shall be given food and lodging." + +The princess stopped. Sighs were the only sound heard in the crowd. + +"I am not doing this on my own account," she continued, "I do it +in the name of my dead father, who was a good master to you, and of my +brother and his son." + +Again she paused. No one broke the silence. + +"Ours is a common misfortune and we will share it together. All that +is mine is yours," she concluded, scanning the faces before her. + +All eyes were gazing at her with one and the same expression. She +could not fathom whether it was curiosity, devotion, gratitude, or +apprehension and distrust--but the expression on all the faces was +identical. + +"We are all very thankful for your bounty, but it won't do for us to +take the landlord's grain," said a voice at the back of the crowd. + +"But why not?" asked the princess. + +No one replied and Princess Mary, looking round at the crowd, +found that every eye she met now was immediately dropped. + +"But why don't you want to take it?" she asked again. + +No one answered. + +The silence began to oppress the princess and she tried to catch +someone's eye. + +"Why don't you speak?" she inquired of a very old man who stood just +in front of her leaning on his stick. "If you think something more +is wanted, tell me! I will do anything," said she, catching his eye. + +But as if this angered him, he bent his head quite low and muttered: + +"Why should we agree? We don't want the grain." + +"Why should we give up everything? We don't agree. Don't agree.... +We are sorry for you, but we're not willing. Go away yourself, +alone..." came from various sides of the crowd. + +And again all the faces in that crowd bore an identical +expression, though now it was certainly not an expression of curiosity +or gratitude, but of angry resolve. + +"But you can't have understood me," said Princess Mary with a sad +smile. "Why don't you want to go? I promise to house and feed you, +while here the enemy would ruin you..." + +But her voice was drowned by the voices of the crowd. + +"We're not willing. Let them ruin us! We won't take your grain. We +don't agree." + +Again Princess Mary tried to catch someone's eye, but not a single +eye in the crowd was turned to her; evidently they were all trying +to avoid her look. She felt strange and awkward. + +"Oh yes, an artful tale! Follow her into slavery! Pull down your +houses and go into bondage! I dare say! 'I'll give you grain, indeed!' +she says," voices in the crowd were heard saying. + +With drooping head Princess Mary left the crowd and went back to the +house. Having repeated her order to Dron to have horses ready for +her departure next morning, she went to her room and remained alone +with her own thoughts. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +For a long time that night Princess Mary sat by the open window of +her room hearing the sound of the peasants' voices that reached her +from the village, but it was not of them she was thinking. She felt +that she could not understand them however much she might think +about them. She thought only of one thing, her sorrow, which, after +the break caused by cares for the present, seemed already to belong to +the past. Now she could remember it and weep or pray. + +After sunset the wind had dropped. The night was calm and fresh. +Toward midnight the voices began to subside, a cock crowed, the full +moon began to show from behind the lime trees, a fresh white dewy mist +began to rise, and stillness reigned over the village and the house. + +Pictures of the near past--her father's illness and last moments--rose +one after another to her memory. With mournful pleasure she now +lingered over these images, repelling with horror only the last one, +the picture of his death, which she felt she could not contemplate +even in imagination at this still and mystic hour of night. And these +pictures presented themselves to her so clearly and in such detail +that they seemed now present, now past, and now future. + +She vividly recalled the moment when he had his first stroke and was +being dragged along by his armpits through the garden at Bald Hills, +muttering something with his helpless tongue, twitching his gray +eyebrows and looking uneasily and timidly at her. + +"Even then he wanted to tell me what he told me the day he died," +she thought. "He had always thought what he said then." And she +recalled in all its detail the night at Bald Hills before he had the +last stroke, when with a foreboding of disaster she had remained at +home against his will. She had not slept and had stolen downstairs +on tiptoe, and going to the door of the conservatory where he slept +that night had listened at the door. In a suffering and weary voice he +was saying something to Tikhon, speaking of the Crimea and its warm +nights and of the Empress. Evidently he had wanted to talk. "And why +didn't he call me? Why didn't he let me be there instead of Tikhon?" +Princess Mary had thought and thought again now. "Now he will never +tell anyone what he had in his soul. Never will that moment return for +him or for me when he might have said all he longed to say, and not +Tikhon but I might have heard and understood him. Why didn't I enter +the room?" she thought. "Perhaps he would then have said to me what he +said the day he died. While talking to Tikhon he asked about me twice. +He wanted to see me, and I was standing close by, outside the door. It +was sad and painful for him to talk to Tikhon who did not understand +him. I remember how he began speaking to him about Lise as if she were +alive--he had forgotten she was dead--and Tikhon reminded him that she +was no more, and he shouted, 'Fool!' He was greatly depressed. From +behind the door I heard how he lay down on his bed groaning and loudly +exclaimed, 'My God!' Why didn't I go in then? What could he have +done to me? What could I have lost? And perhaps he would then have +been comforted and would have said that word to me." And Princess Mary +uttered aloud the caressing word he had said to her on the day of +his death. "Dear-est!" she repeated, and began sobbing, with tears +that relieved her soul. She now saw his face before her. And not the +face she had known ever since she could remember and had always seen +at a distance, but the timid, feeble face she had seen for the first +time quite closely, with all its wrinkles and details, when she +stooped near to his mouth to catch what he said. + +"Dear-est!" she repeated again. + +"What was he thinking when he uttered that word? What is he thinking +now?" This question suddenly presented itself to her, and in answer +she saw him before her with the expression that was on his face as +he lay in his coffin with his chin bound up with a white handkerchief. +And the horror that had seized her when she touched him and +convinced herself that that was not he, but something mysterious and +horrible, seized her again. She tried to think of something else and +to pray, but could do neither. With wide-open eyes she gazed at the +moonlight and the shadows, expecting every moment to see his dead +face, and she felt that the silence brooding over the house and within +it held her fast. + +"Dunyasha," she whispered. "Dunyasha!" she screamed wildly, and +tearing herself out of this silence she ran to the servants' +quarters to meet her old nurse and the maidservants who came running +toward her. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +On the seventeenth of August Rostov and Ilyin, accompanied by +Lavrushka who had just returned from captivity and by an hussar +orderly, left their quarters at Yankovo, ten miles from Bogucharovo, +and went for a ride--to try a new horse Ilyin had bought and to find +out whether there was any hay to be had in the villages. + +For the last three days Bogucharovo had lain between the two hostile +armies, so that it was as easy for the Russian rearguard to get to +it as for the French vanguard; Rostov, as a careful squadron +commander, wished to take such provisions as remained at Bogucharovo +before the French could get them. + +Rostov and Ilyin were in the merriest of moods. On the way to +Bogucharovo, a princely estate with a dwelling house and farm where +they hoped to find many domestic serfs and pretty girls, they +questioned Lavrushka about Napoleon and laughed at his stories, and +raced one another to try Ilyin's horse. + +Rostov had no idea that the village he was entering was the property +of that very Bolkonski who had been engaged to his sister. + +Rostov and Ilyin gave rein to their horses for a last race along the +incline before reaching Bogucharovo, and Rostov, outstripping Ilyin, +was the first to gallop into the village street. + +"You're first!" cried Ilyin, flushed. + +"Yes, always first both on the grassland and here," answered Rostov, +stroking his heated Donets horse. + +"And I'd have won on my Frenchy, your excellency," said Lavrushka +from behind, alluding to his shabby cart horse, "only I didn't wish to +mortify you." + +They rode at a footpace to the barn, where a large crowd of peasants +was standing. + +Some of the men bared their heads, others stared at the new arrivals +without doffing their caps. Two tall old peasants with wrinkled +faces and scanty beards emerged from the tavern, smiling, +staggering, and singing some incoherent song, and approached the +officers. + +"Fine fellows!" said Rostov laughing. "Is there any hay here?" + +"And how like one another," said Ilyin. + +"A mo-o-st me-r-r-y co-o-m-pa...!" sang one of the peasants with a +blissful smile. + +One of the men came out of the crowd and went up to Rostov. + +"Who do you belong to?" he asked. + +"The French," replied Ilyin jestingly, "and here is Napoleon +himself"--and he pointed to Lavrushka. + +"Then you are Russians?" the peasant asked again. + +"And is there a large force of you here?" said another, a short man, +coming up. + +"Very large," answered Rostov. "But why have you collected here?" he +added. "Is it a holiday?" + +"The old men have met to talk over the business of the commune," +replied the peasant, moving away. + +At that moment, on the road leading from the big house, two women +and a man in a white hat were seen coming toward the officers. + +"The one in pink is mine, so keep off!" said Ilyin on seeing +Dunyasha running resolutely toward him. + +"She'll be ours!" said Lavrushka to Ilyin, winking. + +"What do you want, my pretty?" said Ilyin with a smile. + +"The princess ordered me to ask your regiment and your name." + +"This is Count Rostov, squadron commander, and I am your humble +servant." + +"Co-o-om-pa-ny!" roared the tipsy peasant with a beatific smile as +he looked at Ilyin talking to the girl. Following Dunyasha, Alpatych +advanced to Rostov, having bared his head while still at a distance. + +"May I make bold to trouble your honor?" said he respectfully, but +with a shade of contempt for the youthfulness of this officer and with +a hand thrust into his bosom. "My mistress, daughter of General in +Chief Prince Nicholas Bolkonski who died on the fifteenth of this +month, finding herself in difficulties owing to the boorishness of +these people"--he pointed to the peasants--"asks you to come up to the +house.... Won't you, please, ride on a little farther," said +Alpatych with a melancholy smile, "as it is not convenient in the +presence of...?" He pointed to the two peasants who kept as close to +him as horseflies to a horse. + +"Ah!... Alpatych... Ah, Yakov Alpatych... Grand! Forgive us for +Christ's sake, eh?" said the peasants, smiling joyfully at him. + +Rostov looked at the tipsy peasants and smiled. + +"Or perhaps they amuse your honor?" remarked Alpatych with a staid +air, as he pointed at the old men with his free hand. + +"No, there's not much to be amused at here," said Rostov, and rode +on a little way. "What's the matter?" he asked. + +"I make bold to inform your honor that the rude peasants here +don't wish to let the mistress leave the estate, and threaten to +unharness her horses, so that though everything has been packed up +since morning, her excellency cannot get away." + +"Impossible!" exclaimed Rostov. + +"I have the honor to report to you the actual truth," said Alpatych. + +Rostov dismounted, gave his horse to the orderly, and followed +Alpatych to the house, questioning him as to the state of affairs. +It appeared that the princess' offer of corn to the peasants the +previous day, and her talk with Dron and at the meeting, had +actually had so bad an effect that Dron had finally given up the +keys and joined the peasants and had not appeared when Alpatych sent +for him; and that in the morning when the princess gave orders to +harness for her journey, the peasants had come in a large crowd to the +barn and sent word that they would not let her leave the village: that +there was an order not to move, and that they would unharness the +horses. Alpatych had gone out to admonish them, but was told (it was +chiefly Karp who did the talking, Dron not showing himself in the +crowd) that they could not let the princess go, that there was an +order to the contrary, but that if she stayed they would serve her +as before and obey her in everything. + +At the moment when Rostov and Ilyin were galloping along the road, +Princess Mary, despite the dissuasions of Alpatych, her nurse, and the +maids, had given orders to harness and intended to start, but when the +cavalrymen were espied they were taken for Frenchmen, the coachman ran +away, and the women in the house began to wail. + +"Father! Benefactor! God has sent you!" exclaimed deeply moved +voices as Rostov passed through the anteroom. + +Princess Mary was sitting helpless and bewildered in the large +sitting room, when Rostov was shown in. She could not grasp who he was +and why he had come, or what was happening to her. When she saw his +Russian face, and by his walk and the first words he uttered +recognized him as a man of her own class, she glanced at him with +her deep radiant look and began speaking in a voice that faltered +and trembled with emotion. This meeting immediately struck Rostov as a +romantic event. "A helpless girl overwhelmed with grief, left to the +mercy of coarse, rioting peasants! And what a strange fate sent me +here! What gentleness and nobility there are in her features and +expression!" thought he as he looked at her and listened to her +timid story. + +When she began to tell him that all this had happened the day +after her father's funeral, her voiced trembled. She turned away, +and then, as if fearing he might take her words as meant to move him +to pity, looked at him with an apprehensive glance of inquiry. There +were tears in Rostov's eyes. Princess Mary noticed this and glanced +gratefully at him with that radiant look which caused the plainness of +her face to be forgotten. + +"I cannot express, Princess, how glad I am that I happened to ride +here and am able to show my readiness to serve you," said Rostov, +rising. "Go when you please, and I give you my word of honor that no +one shall dare to cause you annoyance if only you will allow me to act +as your escort." And bowing respectfully, as if to a lady of royal +blood, he moved toward the door. + +Rostov's deferential tone seemed to indicate that though he would +consider himself happy to be acquainted with her, he did not wish to +take advantage of her misfortunes to intrude upon her. + +Princess Mary understood this and appreciated his delicacy. + +"I am very, very grateful to you," she said in French, "but I hope +it was all a misunderstanding and that no one is to blame for it." She +suddenly began to cry. + +"Excuse me!" she said. + +Rostov, knitting his brows, left the room with another low bow. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +"Well, is she pretty? Ah, friend--my pink one is delicious; her +name is Dunyasha...." + +But on glancing at Rostov's face Ilyin stopped short. He saw that +his hero and commander was following quite a different train of +thought. + +Rostov glanced angrily at Ilyin and without replying strode off with +rapid steps to the village. + +"I'll show them; I'll give it to them, the brigands!" said he to +himself. + +Alpatych at a gliding trot, only just managing not to run, kept up +with him with difficulty. + +"What decision have you been pleased to come to?" said he. + +Rostov stopped and, clenching his fists, suddenly and sternly turned +on Alpatych. + +"Decision? What decision? Old dotard!..." cried he. "What have you +been about? Eh? The peasants are rioting, and you can't manage them? +You're a traitor yourself! I know you. I'll flay you all alive!..." +And as if afraid of wasting his store of anger, he left Alpatych and +went rapidly forward. Alpatych, mastering his offended feelings, +kept pace with Rostov at a gliding gait and continued to impart his +views. He said the peasants were obdurate and that at the present +moment it would be imprudent to "overresist" them without an armed +force, and would it not be better first to send for the military? + +"I'll give them armed force... I'll 'overresist' them!" uttered +Rostov meaninglessly, breathless with irrational animal fury and the +need to vent it. + +Without considering what he would do he moved unconciously with +quick, resolute steps toward the crowd. And the nearer he drew to it +the more Alpatych felt that this unreasonable action might produce +good results. The peasants in the crowd were similarly impressed +when they saw Rostov's rapid, firm steps and resolute, frowning face. + +After the hussars had come to the village and Rostov had gone to see +the princess, a certain confusion and dissension had arisen among +the crowd. Some of the peasants said that these new arrivals were +Russians and might take it amiss that the mistress was being detained. +Dron was of this opinion, but as soon as he expressed it Karp and +others attacked their ex-Elder. + +"How many years have you been fattening on the commune?" Karp +shouted at him. "It's all one to you! You'll dig up your pot of +money and take it away with you.... What does it matter to you whether +our homes are ruined or not?" + +"We've been told to keep order, and that no one is to leave their +homes or take away a single grain, and that's all about it!" cried +another. + +"It was your son's turn to be conscripted, but no fear! You +begrudged your lump of a son," a little old man suddenly began +attacking Dron--"and so they took my Vanka to be shaved for a soldier! +But we all have to die." + +"To be sure, we all have to die. I'm not against the commune," +said Dron. + +"That's it--not against it! You've filled your belly...." + +The two tall peasants had their say. As soon as Rostov, followed +by Ilyin, Lavrushka, and Alpatych, came up to the crowd, Karp, +thrusting his fingers into his belt and smiling a little, walked to +the front. Dron on the contrary retired to the rear and the crowd drew +closer together. + +"Who is your Elder here? Hey?" shouted Rostov, coming up to the +crowd with quick steps. + +"The Elder? What do you want with him?..." asked Karp. + +But before the words were well out of his mouth, his cap flew off +and a fierce blow jerked his head to one side. + +"Caps off, traitors!" shouted Rostov in a wrathful voice. "Where's +the Elder?" he cried furiously. + +"The Elder.... He wants the Elder!... Dron Zakharych, you!" meek and +flustered voices here and there were heard calling and caps began to +come off their heads. + +"We don't riot, we're following the orders," declared Karp, and at +that moment several voices began speaking together. + +"It's as the old men have decided--there's too many of you giving +orders." + +"Arguing? Mutiny!... Brigands! Traitors!" cried Rostov unmeaningly +in a voice not his own, gripping Karp by the collar. "Bind him, bind +him!" he shouted, though there was no one to bind him but Lavrushka +and Alpatych. + +Lavrushka, however, ran up to Karp and seized him by the arms from +behind. + +"Shall I call up our men from beyond the hill?" he called out. + +Alpatych turned to the peasants and ordered two of them by name to +come and bind Karp. The men obediently came out of the crowd and began +taking off their belts. + +"Where's the Elder?" demanded Rostov in a loud voice. + +With a pale and frowning face Dron stepped out of the crowd. + +"Are you the Elder? Bind him, Lavrushka!" shouted Rostov, as if that +order, too, could not possibly meet with any opposition. + +And in fact two more peasants began binding Dron, who took off his +own belt and handed it to them, as if to aid them. + +"And you all listen to me!" said Rostov to the peasants. "Be off +to your houses at once, and don't let one of your voices be heard!" + +"Why, we've not done any harm! We did it just out of foolishness. +It's all nonsense... I said then that it was not in order," voices +were heard bickering with one another. + +"There! What did I say?" said Alpatych, coming into his own again. +"It's wrong, lads!" + + "All our stupidity, Yakov Alpatych," came the answers, and the +crowd began at once to disperse through the village. + +The two bound men were led off to the master's house. The two +drunken peasants followed them. + +"Aye, when I look at you!..." said one of them to Karp. + +"How can one talk to the masters like that? What were you thinking +of, you fool?" added the other--"A real fool!" + +Two hours later the carts were standing in the courtyard of the +Bogucharovo house. The peasants were briskly carrying out the +proprietor's goods and packing them on the carts, and Dron, +liberated at Princess Mary's wish from the cupboard where he had +been confined, was standing in the yard directing the men. + +"Don't put it in so carelessly," said one of the peasants, a man +with a round smiling face, taking a casket from a housemaid. "You know +it has cost money! How can you chuck it in like that or shove it under +the cord where it'll get rubbed? I don't like that way of doing +things. Let it all be done properly, according to rule. Look here, put +it under the bast matting and cover it with hay--that's the way!" + +"Eh, books, books!" said another peasant, bringing out Prince +Andrew's library cupboards. "Don't catch up against it! It's heavy, +lads--solid books." + +"Yes, they worked all day and didn't play!" remarked the tall, +round-faced peasant gravely, pointing with a significant wink at the +dictionaries that were on the top. + + +Unwilling to obtrude himself on the princess, Rostov did not go back +to the house but remained in the village awaiting her departure. +When her carriage drove out of the house, he mounted and accompanied +her eight miles from Bogucharovo to where the road was occupied by our +troops. At the inn at Yankovo he respectfully took leave of her, for +the first time permitting himself to kiss her hand. + +"How can you speak so!" he blushingly replied to Princess Mary's +expressions of gratitude for her deliverance, as she termed what had +occurred. "Any police officer would have done as much! If we had had +only peasants to fight, we should not have let the enemy come so far," +said he with a sense of shame and wishing to change the subject. "I am +only happy to have had the opportunity of making your acquaintance. +Good-by, Princess. I wish you happiness and consolation and hope to +meet you again in happier circumstances. If you don't want to make +me blush, please don't thank me!" + +But the princess, if she did not again thank him in words, thanked him +with the whole expression of her face, radiant with gratitude and +tenderness. She could not believe that there was nothing to thank him +for. On the contrary, it seemed to her certain that had he not been +there she would have perished at the hands of the mutineers and of the +French, and that he had exposed himself to terrible and obvious danger +to save her, and even more certain was it that he was a man of lofty +and noble soul, able to understand her position and her sorrow. His +kind, honest eyes, with the tears rising in them when she herself had +begun to cry as she spoke of her loss, did not leave her memory. + +When she had taken leave of him and remained alone she suddenly felt +her eyes filling with tears, and then not for the first time the +strange question presented itself to her: did she love him? + +On the rest of the way to Moscow, though the princess' position +was not a cheerful one, Dunyasha, who went with her in the carriage, +more than once noticed that her mistress leaned out of the window +and smiled at something with an expression of mingled joy and sorrow. + +"Well, supposing I do love him?" thought Princess Mary. + +Ashamed as she was of acknowledging to herself that she had fallen +in love with a man who would perhaps never love her, she comforted +herself with the thought that no one would ever know it and that she +would not be to blame if, without ever speaking of it to anyone, she +continued to the end of her life to love the man with whom she had +fallen in love for the first and last time in her life. + +Sometimes when she recalled his looks, his sympathy, and his +words, happiness did not appear impossible to her. It was at those +moments that Dunyasha noticed her smiling as she looked out of the +carriage window. + +"Was it not fate that brought him to Bogucharovo, and at that very +moment?" thought Princess Mary. "And that caused his sister to +refuse my brother?" And in all this Princess Mary saw the hand of +Providence. + +The impression the princess made on Rostov was a very agreeable one. +To remember her gave him pleasure, and when his comrades, hearing of +his adventure at Bogucharovo, rallied him on having gone to look for +hay and having picked up one of the wealthiest heiresses in Russia, he +grew angry. It made him angry just because the idea of marrying the +gentle Princess Mary, who was attractive to him and had an enormous +fortune, had against his will more than once entered his head. For +himself personally Nicholas could not wish for a better wife: by +marrying her he would make the countess his mother happy, would be +able to put his father's affairs in order, and would even--he felt +it--ensure Princess Mary's happiness. + +But Sonya? And his plighted word? That was why Rostov grew angry +when he was rallied about Princess Bolkonskaya. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +On receiving command of the armies Kutuzov remembered Prince +Andrew and sent an order for him to report at headquarters. + +Prince Andrew arrived at Tsarevo-Zaymishche on the very day and at +the very hour that Kutuzov was reviewing the troops for the first +time. He stopped in the village at the priest's house in front of +which stood the commander in chief's carriage, and he sat down on +the bench at the gate awaiting his Serene Highness, as everyone now +called Kutuzov. From the field beyond the village came now sounds of +regimental music and now the roar of many voices shouting "Hurrah!" to +the new commander in chief. Two orderlies, a courier and a major-domo, +stood near by, some ten paces from Prince Andrew, availing +themselves of Kutuzov's absence and of the fine weather. A short, +swarthy lieutenant colonel of hussars with thick mustaches and +whiskers rode up to the gate and, glancing at Prince Andrew, +inquired whether his Serene Highness was putting up there and +whether he would soon be back. + +Prince Andrew replied that he was not on his Serene Highness' +staff but was himself a new arrival. The lieutenant colonel turned +to a smart orderly, who, with the peculiar contempt with which a +commander in chief's orderly speaks to officers, replied: + +"What? His Serene Highness? I expect he'll be here soon. What do you +want?" + +The lieutenant colonel of hussars smiled beneath his mustache at the +orderly's tone, dismounted, gave his horse to a dispatch runner, and +approached Bolkonski with a slight bow. Bolkonski made room for him on +the bench and the lieutenant colonel sat down beside him. + +"You're also waiting for the commander in chief?" said he. "They say +he weceives evewyone, thank God!... It's awful with those sausage +eaters! Ermolov had weason to ask to be pwomoted to be a German! Now +p'waps Wussians will get a look in. As it was, devil only knows what +was happening. We kept wetweating and wetweating. Did you take part in +the campaign?" he asked. + +"I had the pleasure," replied Prince Andrew, "not only of taking +part in the retreat but of losing in that retreat all I held dear--not +to mention the estate and home of my birth--my father, who died of +grief. I belong to the province of Smolensk." + +"Ah? You're Pwince Bolkonski? Vewy glad to make your acquaintance! +I'm Lieutenant Colonel Denisov, better known as 'Vaska,'" said +Denisov, pressing Prince Andrew's hand and looking into his face +with a particularly kindly attention. "Yes, I heard," said he +sympathetically, and after a short pause added: "Yes, it's Scythian +warfare. It's all vewy well--only not for those who get it in the +neck. So you are Pwince Andwew Bolkonski?" He swayed his head. "Vewy +pleased, Pwince, to make your acquaintance!" he repeated again, +smiling sadly, and he again pressed Prince Andrew's hand. + +Prince Andrew knew Denisov from what Natasha had told him of her +first suitor. This memory carried him sadly and sweetly back to +those painful feelings of which he had not thought lately, but which +still found place in his soul. Of late he had received so many new and +very serious impressions--such as the retreat from Smolensk, his visit +to Bald Hills, and the recent news of his father's death--and had +experienced so many emotions, that for a long time past those memories +had not entered his mind, and now that they did, they did not act on +him with nearly their former strength. For Denisov, too, the +memories awakened by the name of Bolkonski belonged to a distant, +romantic past, when after supper and after Natasha's singing he had +proposed to a little girl of fifteen without realizing what he was +doing. He smiled at the recollection of that time and of his love +for Natasha, and passed at once to what now interested him +passionately and exclusively. This was a plan of campaign he had +devised while serving at the outposts during the retreat. He had +proposed that plan to Barclay de Tolly and now wished to propose it to +Kutuzov. The plan was based on the fact that the French line of +operation was too extended, and it proposed that instead of, or +concurrently with, action on the front to bar the advance of the +French, we should attack their line of communication. He began +explaining his plan to Prince Andrew. + +"They can't hold all that line. It's impossible. I will undertake to +bweak thwough. Give me five hundwed men and I will bweak the line, +that's certain! There's only one way--guewilla warfare!" + +Denisov rose and began gesticulating as he explained his plan to +Bolkonski. In the midst of his explanation shouts were heard from +the army, growing more incoherent and more diffused, mingling with +music and songs and coming from the field where the review was held. +Sounds of hoofs and shouts were nearing the village. + +"He's coming! He's coming!" shouted a Cossack standing at the gate. + +Bolkonski and Denisov moved to the gate, at which a knot of soldiers +(a guard of honor) was standing, and they saw Kutuzov coming down +the street mounted on a rather small sorrel horse. A huge suite of +generals rode behind him. Barclay was riding almost beside him, and +a crowd of officers ran after and around them shouting, "Hurrah!" + +His adjutants galloped into the yard before him. Kutuzov was +impatiently urging on his horse, which ambled smoothly under his +weight, and he raised his hand to his white Horse Guard's cap with a +red band and no peak, nodding his head continually. When he came up to +the guard of honor, a fine set of Grenadiers mostly wearing +decorations, who were giving him the salute, he looked at them +silently and attentively for nearly a minute with the steady gaze of a +commander and then turned to the crowd of generals and officers +surrounding him. Suddenly his face assumed a subtle expression, he +shrugged his shoulders with an air of perplexity. + +"And with such fine fellows to retreat and retreat! Well, good-by, +General," he added, and rode into the yard past Prince Andrew and +Denisov. + +"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted those behind him. + +Since Prince Andrew had last seen him Kutuzov had grown still more +corpulent, flaccid, and fat. But the bleached eyeball, the scar, and +the familiar weariness of his expression were still the same. He was +wearing the white Horse Guard's cap and a military overcoat with a +whip hanging over his shoulder by a thin strap. He sat heavily and +swayed limply on his brisk little horse. + +"Whew... whew... whew!" he whistled just audibly as he rode into the +yard. His face expressed the relief of relaxed strain felt by a man +who means to rest after a ceremony. He drew his left foot out of the +stirrup and, lurching with his whole body and puckering his face +with the effort, raised it with difficulty onto the saddle, leaned +on his knee, groaned, and slipped down into the arms of the Cossacks +and adjutants who stood ready to assist him. + +He pulled himself together, looked round, screwing up his eyes, +glanced at Prince Andrew, and, evidently not recognizing him, moved +with his waddling gait to the porch. "Whew... whew... whew!" he +whistled, and again glanced at Prince Andrew. As often occurs with old +men, it was only after some seconds that the impression produced by +Prince Andrew's face linked itself up with Kutuzov's remembrance of +his personality. + +"Ah, how do you do, my dear prince? How do you do, my dear boy? Come +along..." said he, glancing wearily round, and he stepped onto the +porch which creaked under his weight. + +He unbuttoned his coat and sat down on a bench in the porch. + +"And how's your father?" + +"I received news of his death, yesterday," replied Prince Andrew +abruptly. + +Kutuzov looked at him with eyes wide open with dismay and then +took off his cap and crossed himself: + +"May the kingdom of Heaven be his! God's will be done to us all!" He +sighed deeply, his whole chest heaving, and was silent for a while. "I +loved him and respected him, and sympathize with you with all my +heart." + +He embraced Prince Andrew, pressing him to his fat breast, and for +some time did not let him go. When he released him Prince Andrew saw +that Kutuzov's flabby lips were trembling and that tears were in his +eyes. He sighed and pressed on the bench with both hands to raise +himself. + +"Come! Come with me, we'll have a talk," said he. + +But at that moment Denisov, no more intimidated by his superiors +than by the enemy, came with jingling spurs up the steps of the porch, +despite the angry whispers of the adjutants who tried to stop him. +Kutuzov, his hands still pressed on the seat, glanced at him glumly. +Denisov, having given his name, announced that he had to communicate +to his Serene Highness a matter of great importance for their +country's welfare. Kutuzov looked wearily at him and, lifting his +hands with a gesture of annoyance, folded them across his stomach, +repeating the words: "For our country's welfare? Well, what is it? +Speak!" Denisov blushed like a girl (it was strange to see the color +rise in that shaggy, bibulous, time-worn face) and boldly began to +expound his plan of cutting the enemy's lines of communication between +Smolensk and Vyazma. Denisov came from those parts and knew the +country well. His plan seemed decidedly a good one, especially from +the strength of conviction with which he spoke. Kutuzov looked down at +his own legs, occasionally glancing at the door of the adjoining hut +as if expecting something unpleasant to emerge from it. And from +that hut, while Denisov was speaking, a general with a portfolio under +his arm really did appear. + +"What?" said Kutuzov, in the midst of Denisov's explanations, "are +you ready so soon?" + +"Ready, your Serene Highness," replied the general. + +Kutuzov swayed his head, as much as to say: "How is one man to +deal with it all?" and again listened to Denisov. + +"I give my word of honor as a Wussian officer," said Denisov, +"that I can bweak Napoleon's line of communication!" + +"What relation are you to Intendant General Kiril Andreevich +Denisov?" asked Kutuzov, interrupting him. + +"He is my uncle, your Sewene Highness." + +"Ah, we were friends," said Kutuzov cheerfully. "All right, all +right, friend, stay here at the staff and tomorrow we'll have a talk." + +With a nod to Denisov he turned away and put out his hand for the +papers Konovnitsyn had brought him. + +"Would not your Serene Highness like to come inside?" said the +general on duty in a discontented voice, "the plans must be examined +and several papers have to be signed." + +An adjutant came out and announced that everything was in +readiness within. But Kutuzov evidently did not wish to enter that +room till he was disengaged. He made a grimace... + +"No, tell them to bring a small table out here, my dear boy. I'll +look at them here," said he. "Don't go away," he added, turning to +Prince Andrew, who remained in the porch and listened to the general's +report. + +While this was being given, Prince Andrew heard the whisper of a +woman's voice and the rustle of a silk dress behind the door. +Several times on glancing that way he noticed behind that door a +plump, rosy, handsome woman in a pink dress with a lilac silk kerchief +on her head, holding a dish and evidently awaiting the entrance of the +commander in chief. Kutuzov's adjutant whispered to Prince Andrew +that this was the wife of the priest whose home it was, and that she +intended to offer his Serene Highness bread and salt. "Her husband has +welcomed his Serene Highness with the cross at the church, and she +intends to welcome him in the house.... She's very pretty," added +the adjutant with a smile. At those words Kutuzov looked round. He was +listening to the general's report--which consisted chiefly of a +criticism of the position at Tsarevo-Zaymishche--as he had listened to +Denisov, and seven years previously had listened to the discussion +at the Austerlitz council of war. He evidently listened only because +he had ears which, though there was a piece of tow in one of them, +could not help hearing; but it was evident that nothing the general +could say would surprise or even interest him, that he knew all that +would be said beforehand, and heard it all only because he had to, +as one has to listen to the chanting of a service of prayer. All +that Denisov had said was clever and to the point. What the general +was saying was even more clever and to the point, but it was evident +that Kutuzov despised knowledge and cleverness, and knew of +something else that would decide the matter--something independent +of cleverness and knowledge. Prince Andrew watched the commander +in chief's face attentively, and the only expression he could see +there was one of boredom, curiosity as to the meaning of the +feminine whispering behind the door, and a desire to observe +propriety. It was evident that Kutuzov despised cleverness and +learning and even the patriotic feeling shown by Denisov, but despised +them not because of his own intellect, feelings, or knowledge--he +did not try to display any of these--but because of something else. He +despised them because of his old age and experience of life. The +only instruction Kutuzov gave of his own accord during that report +referred to looting by the Russian troops. At the end of the report +the general put before him for signature a paper relating to the +recovery of payment from army commanders for green oats mown down by +the soldiers, when landowners lodged petitions for compensation. + +After hearing the matter, Kutuzov smacked his lips together and +shook his head. + +"Into the stove... into the fire with it! I tell you once for all, +my dear fellow," said he, "into the fire with all such things! Let +them cut the crops and burn wood to their hearts' content. I don't +order it or allow it, but I don't exact compensation either. One can't +get on without it. 'When wood is chopped the chips will fly.'" He +looked at the paper again. "Oh, this German precision!" he muttered, +shaking his head. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +"Well, that's all!" said Kutuzov as he signed the last of the +documents, and rising heavily and smoothing out the folds in his fat +white neck he moved toward the door with a more cheerful expression. + +The priest's wife, flushing rosy red, caught up the dish she had +after all not managed to present at the right moment, though she had +so long been preparing for it, and with a low bow offered it to +Kutuzov. + +He screwed up his eyes, smiled, lifted her chin with his hand, and +said: + +"Ah, what a beauty! Thank you, sweetheart!" + +He took some gold pieces from his trouser pocket and put them on the +dish for her. "Well, my dear, and how are we getting on?" he asked, +moving to the door of the room assigned to him. The priest's wife +smiled, and with dimples in her rosy cheeks followed him into the +room. The adjutant came out to the porch and asked Prince Andrew to +lunch with him. Half an hour later Prince Andrew was again called to +Kutuzov. He found him reclining in an armchair, still in the same +unbuttoned overcoat. He had in his hand a French book which he +closed as Prince Andrew entered, marking the place with a knife. +Prince Andrew saw by the cover that it was Les Chevaliers du Cygne +by Madame de Genlis. + +"Well, sit down, sit down here. Let's have a talk," said Kutuzov. +"It's sad, very sad. But remember, my dear fellow, that I am a +father to you, a second father...." + +Prince Andrew told Kutuzov all he knew of his father's death, and +what he had seen at Bald Hills when he passed through it. + +"What... what they have brought us to!" Kutuzov suddenly cried in an +agitated voice, evidently picturing vividly to himself from Prince +Andrew's story the condition Russia was in. "But give me time, give me +time!" he said with a grim look, evidently not wishing to continue +this agitating conversation, and added: "I sent for you to keep you +with me." + +"I thank your Serene Highness, but I fear I am no longer fit for the +staff," replied Prince Andrew with a smile which Kutuzov noticed. + +Kutuzov glanced inquiringly at him. + +"But above all," added Prince Andrew, "I have grown used to my +regiment, am fond of the officers, and I fancy the men also like me. I +should be sorry to leave the regiment. If I decline the honor of being +with you, believe me..." + +A shrewd, kindly, yet subtly derisive expression lit up Kutuzov's +podgy face. He cut Bolkonski short. + +"I am sorry, for I need you. But you're right, you're right! It's +not here that men are needed. Advisers are always plentiful, but men +are not. The regiments would not be what they are if the would-be +advisers served there as you do. I remember you at Austerlitz.... I +remember, yes, I remember you with the standard!" said Kutuzov, and +a flush of pleasure suffused Prince Andrew's face at this +recollection. + +Taking his hand and drawing him downwards, Kutuzov offered his cheek +to be kissed, and again Prince Andrew noticed tears in the old man's +eyes. Though Prince Andrew knew that Kutuzov's tears came easily, +and that he was particularly tender to and considerate of him from a +wish to show sympathy with his loss, yet this reminder of Austerlitz +was both pleasant and flattering to him. + +"Go your way and God be with you. I know your path is the path of +honor!" He paused. "I missed you at Bucharest, but I needed someone to +send." And changing the subject, Kutuzov began to speak of the Turkish +war and the peace that had been concluded. "Yes, I have been much +blamed," he said, "both for that war and the peace... but everything +came at the right time. Tout vient a point a celui qui sait attendre.* +And there were as many advisers there as here..." he went on, +returning to the subject of "advisers" which evidently occupied him. +"Ah, those advisers!" said he. "If we had listened to them all we +should not have made peace with Turkey and should not have been +through with that war. Everything in haste, but more haste, less +speed. Kamenski would have been lost if he had not died. He stormed +fortresses with thirty thousand men. It is not difficult to capture +a fortress but it is difficult to win a campaign. For that, not storming +and attacking but patience and time are wanted. Kamenski sent soldiers +to Rustchuk, but I only employed these two things and took more +fortresses than Kamenski and made them Turks eat horseflesh!" He swayed +his head. "And the French shall too, believe me," he went on, +growing warmer and beating his chest, "I'll make them eat horseflesh!" +And tears again dimmed his eyes. + + +*"Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait." + + +"But shan't we have to accept battle?" remarked Prince Andrew. + +"We shall if everybody wants it; it can't be helped.... But +believe me, my dear boy, there is nothing stronger than those two: +patience and time, they will do it all. But the advisers n'entendent +pas de cette oreille, voila le mal.* Some want a thing--others +don't. What's one to do?" he asked, evidently expecting an answer. +"Well, what do you want us to do?" he repeated and his eye shone +with a deep, shrewd look. "I'll tell you what to do," he continued, as +Prince Andrew still did not reply: "I will tell you what to do, and +what I do. Dans le doute, mon cher," he paused, "abstiens-toi"*[2]--he +articulated the French proverb deliberately. + + +*"Don't see it that way, that's the trouble." + +*[2] "When in doubt, my dear fellow, do nothing." + + +"Well, good-by, my dear fellow; remember that with all my heart I +share your sorrow, and that for you I am not a Serene Highness, nor +a prince, nor a commander in chief, but a father! If you want anything +come straight to me. Good-by, my dear boy." + +Again he embraced and kissed Prince Andrew, but before the latter +had left the room Kutuzov gave a sigh of relief and went on with his +unfinished novel, Les Chevaliers du Cygne by Madame de Genlis. + +Prince Andrew could not have explained how or why it was, but +after that interview with Kutuzov he went back to his regiment +reassured as to the general course of affairs and as to the man to +whom it had been entrusted. The more he realized the absence of all +personal motive in that old man--in whom there seemed to remain only +the habit of passions, and in place of an intellect (grouping events +and drawing conclusions) only the capacity calmly to contemplate the +course of events--the more reassured he was that everything would be +as it should. "He will not bring in any plan of his own. He will not +devise or undertake anything," thought Prince Andrew, "but he will +hear everything, remember everything, and put everything in its place. +He will not hinder anything useful nor allow anything harmful. He +understands that there is something stronger and more important than +his own will--the inevitable course of events, and he can see them and +grasp their significance, and seeing that significance can refrain +from meddling and renounce his personal wish directed to something +else. And above all," thought Prince Andrew, "one believes in him +because he's Russian, despite the novel by Genlis and the French +proverbs, and because his voice shook when he said: 'What they have +brought us to!' and had a sob in it when he said he would 'make them +eat horseflesh!'" + +On such feelings, more or less dimly shared by all, the unanimity +and general approval were founded with which, despite court +influences, the popular choice of Kutuzov as commander in chief was +received. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +After the Emperor had left Moscow, life flowed on there in its usual +course, and its course was so very usual that it was difficult to +remember the recent days of patriotic elation and ardor, hard to +believe that Russia was really in danger and that the members of the +English Club were also sons of the Fatherland ready to sacrifice +everything for it. The one thing that recalled the patriotic fervor +everyone had displayed during the Emperor's stay was the call for +contributions of men and money, a necessity that as soon as the +promises had been made assumed a legal, official form and became +unavoidable. + +With the enemy's approach to Moscow, the Moscovites' view of their +situation did not grow more serious but on the contrary became even +more frivolous, as always happens with people who see a great danger +approaching. At the approach of danger there are always two voices +that speak with equal power in the human soul: one very reasonably +tells a man to consider the nature of the danger and the means of +escaping it; the other, still more reasonably, says that it is too +depressing and painful to think of the danger, since it is not in +man's power to foresee everything and avert the general course of +events, and it is therefore better to disregard what is painful till +it comes, and to think about what is pleasant. In solitude a man +generally listens to the first voice, but in society to the second. So +it was now with the inhabitants of Moscow. It was long since people +had been as gay in Moscow as that year. + +Rostopchin's broadsheets, headed by woodcuts of a drink shop, a +potman, and a Moscow burgher called Karpushka Chigirin, "who--having +been a militiaman and having had rather too much at the pub--heard +that Napoleon wished to come to Moscow, grew angry, abused the +French in very bad language, came out of the drink shop, and, under +the sign of the eagle, began to address the assembled people," were +read and discussed, together with the latest of Vasili Lvovich +Pushkin's bouts rimes. + +In the corner room at the Club, members gathered to read these +broadsheets, and some liked the way Karpushka jeered at the French, +saying: "They will swell up with Russian cabbage, burst with our +buckwheat porridge, and choke themselves with cabbage soup. They are +all dwarfs and one peasant woman will toss three of them with a +hayfork." Others did not like that tone and said it was stupid and +vulgar. It was said that Rostopchin had expelled all Frenchmen and +even all foreigners from Moscow, and that there had been some spies +and agents of Napoleon among them; but this was told chiefly to +introduce Rostopchin's witty remark on that occasion. The foreigners +were deported to Nizhni by boat, and Rostopchin had said to them in +French: "Rentrez en vousmemes; entrez dans la barque, et n'en faites +pas une barque de Charon."* There was talk of all the government +offices having been already removed from Moscow, and to this +Shinshin's witticism was added--that for that alone Moscow ought to be +grateful to Napoleon. It was said that Mamonov's regiment would cost +him eight hundred thousand rubles, and that Bezukhov had spent even +more on his, but that the best thing about Bezukhov's action was +that he himself was going to don a uniform and ride at the head of his +regiment without charging anything for the show. + + +*"Think it over; get into the barque, and take care not to make it a +barque of Charon." + + +"You don't spare anyone," said Julie Drubetskaya as she collected +and pressed together a bunch of raveled lint with her thin, beringed +fingers. + +Julie was preparing to leave Moscow next day and was giving a +farewell soiree. + +"Bezukhov est ridicule, but he is so kind and good-natured. What +pleasure is there to be so caustique?" + +"A forfeit!" cried a young man in militia uniform whom Julie +called "mon chevalier," and who was going with her to Nizhni. + +In Julie's set, as in many other circles in Moscow, it had been +agreed that they would speak nothing but Russian and that those who +made a slip and spoke French should pay fines to the Committee of +Voluntary Contributions. + +"Another forfeit for a Gallicism," said a Russian writer who was +present. "'What pleasure is there to be' is not Russian!" + +"You spare no one," continued Julie to the young man without heeding +the author's remark. + +"For caustique--I am guilty and will pay, and I am prepared to pay +again for the pleasure of telling you the truth. For Gallicisms I +won't be responsible," she remarked, turning to the author: "I have +neither the money nor the time, like Prince Galitsyn, to engage a +master to teach me Russian!" + +"Ah, here he is!" she added. "Quand on... No, no," she said to the +militia officer, "you won't catch me. Speak of the sun and you see its +rays!" and she smiled amiably at Pierre. "We were just talking of +you," she said with the facility in lying natural to a society +woman. "We were saying that your regiment would be sure to be better +than Mamonov's." + +"Oh, don't talk to me of my regiment," replied Pierre, kissing his +hostess' hand and taking a seat beside her. "I am so sick of it." + +"You will, of course, command it yourself?" said Julie, directing +a sly, sarcastic glance toward the militia officer. + +The latter in Pierre's presence had ceased to be caustic, and his +face expressed perplexity as to what Julie's smile might mean. In +spite of his absent-mindedness and good nature, Pierre's personality +immediately checked any attempt to ridicule him to his face. + +"No," said Pierre, with a laughing glance at his big, stout body. "I +should make too good a target for the French, besides I am afraid I +should hardly be able to climb onto a horse." + +Among those whom Julie's guests happened to choose to gossip about +were the Rostovs. + +"I hear that their affairs are in a very bad way," said Julie. +"And he is so unreasonable, the count himself I mean. The +Razumovskis wanted to buy his house and his estate near Moscow, but it +drags on and on. He asks too much." + +"No, I think the sale will come off in a few days," said someone. +"Though it is madness to buy anything in Moscow now." + +"Why?" asked Julie. "You don't think Moscow is in danger?" + +"Then why are you leaving?" + +"I? What a question! I am going because... well, because everyone is +going: and besides--I am not Joan of Arc or an Amazon." + +"Well, of course, of course! Let me have some more strips of linen." + +"If he manages the business properly he will be able to pay off +all his debts," said the militia officer, speaking of Rostov. + +"A kindly old man but not up to much. And why do they stay on so +long in Moscow? They meant to leave for the country long ago. +Natalie is quite well again now, isn't she?" Julie asked Pierre with a +knowing smile. + +"They are waiting for their younger son," Pierre replied. "He joined +Obolenski's Cossacks and went to Belaya Tserkov where the regiment +is being formed. But now they have had him transferred to my +regiment and are expecting him every day. The count wanted to leave +long ago, but the countess won't on any account leave Moscow till +her son returns." + +"I met them the day before yesterday at the Arkharovs'. Natalie +has recovered her looks and is brighter. She sang a song. How easily +some people get over everything!" + +"Get over what?" inquired Pierre, looking displeased. + +Julie smiled. + +"You know, Count, such knights as you are only found in Madame de +Souza's novels." + +"What knights? What do you mean?" demanded Pierre, blushing. + +"Oh, come, my dear count! C'est la fable de tout Moscou. Je vous +admire, ma parole d'honneur!"* + + +*"It is the talk of all Moscow. My word, I admire you!" + + +"Forfeit, forfeit!" cried the militia officer. + +"All right, one can't talk--how tiresome!" + +"What is 'the talk of all Moscow'?" Pierre asked angrily, rising +to his feet. + +"Come now, Count, you know!" + +"I don't know anything about it," said Pierre. + +"I know you were friendly with Natalie, and so... but I was always +more friendly with Vera--that dear Vera." + +"No, madame!" Pierre continued in a tone of displeasure, "I have not +taken on myself the role of Natalie Rostova's knight at all, and +have not been to their house for nearly a month. But I cannot +understand the cruelty..." + +"Qui s'excuse s'accuse,"* said Julie, smiling and waving the lint +triumphantly, and to have the last word she promptly changed the +subject. "Do you know what I heard today? Poor Mary Bolkonskaya +arrived in Moscow yesterday. Do you know that she has lost her +father?" + + +*"Who excuses himself, accuses himself." + + +"Really? Where is she? I should like very much to see her," said +Pierre. + +"I spent the evening with her yesterday. She is going to their +estate near Moscow either today or tomorrow morning, with her nephew." + +"Well, and how is she?" asked Pierre. + +"She is well, but sad. But do you know who rescued her? It is +quite a romance. Nicholas Rostov! She was surrounded, and they +wanted to kill her and had wounded some of her people. He rushed in +and saved her...." + +"Another romance," said the militia officer. "Really, this general +flight has been arranged to get all the old maids married off. Catiche +is one and Princess Bolkonskaya another." + +"Do you know, I really believe she is un petit peu amoureuse du +jeune homme."* + + +*"A little bit in love with the young man." + + +"Forfeit, forfeit, forfeit!" + +"But how could one say that in Russian?" + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +When Pierre returned home he was handed two of Rostopchin's +broadsheets that had been brought that day. + +The first declared that the report that Count Rostopchin had +forbidden people to leave Moscow was false; on the contrary he was +glad that ladies and tradesmen's wives were leaving the city. "There +will be less panic and less gossip," ran the broadsheet "but I will +stake my life on it that scoundrel will not enter Moscow." These words +showed Pierre clearly for the first time that the French would enter +Moscow. The second broadsheet stated that our headquarters were at +Vyazma, that Count Wittgenstein had defeated the French, but that as +many of the inhabitants of Moscow wished to be armed, weapons were +ready for them at the arsenal: sabers, pistols, and muskets which +could be had at a low price. The tone of the proclamation was not as +jocose as in the former Chigirin talks. Pierre pondered over these +broadsheets. Evidently the terrible stormcloud he had desired with the +whole strength of his soul but which yet aroused involuntary horror in +him was drawing near. + +"Shall I join the army and enter the service, or wait?" he asked +himself for the hundredth time. He took a pack of cards that lay on +the table and began to lay them out for a game of patience. + +"If this patience comes out," he said to himself after shuffling the +cards, holding them in his hand, and lifting his head, "if it comes +out, it means... what does it mean?" + +He had not decided what it should mean when he heard the voice of +the eldest princess at the door asking whether she might come in. + +"Then it will mean that I must go to the army," said Pierre to +himself. "Come in, come in!" he added to the princess. + +Only the eldest princess, the one with the stony face and long +waist, was still living in Pierre's house. The two younger ones had +both married. + +"Excuse my coming to you, cousin," she said in a reproachful and +agitated voice. "You know some decision must be come to. What is going +to happen? Everyone has left Moscow and the people are rioting. How is +it that we are staying on?" + +"On the contrary, things seem satisfactory, ma cousine," said Pierre +in the bantering tone he habitually adopted toward her, always feeling +uncomfortable in the role of her benefactor. + +"Satisfactory, indeed! Very satisfactory! Barbara Ivanovna told me +today how our troops are distinguishing themselves. It certainly +does them credit! And the people too are quite mutinous--they no +longer obey, even my maid has taken to being rude. At this rate they +will soon begin beating us. One can't walk in the streets. But, +above all, the French will be here any day now, so what are we waiting +for? I ask just one thing of you, cousin," she went on, "arrange for +me to be taken to Petersburg. Whatever I may be, I can't live under +Bonaparte's rule." + +"Oh, come, ma cousine! Where do you get your information from? On +the contrary..." + +"I won't submit to your Napoleon! Others may if they please.... If +you don't want to do this..." + +"But I will, I'll give the order at once." + +The princess was apparently vexed at not having anyone to be angry +with. Muttering to herself, she sat down on a chair. + +"But you have been misinformed," said Pierre. "Everything is quiet +in the city and there is not the slightest danger. See! I've just been +reading..." He showed her the broadsheet. "Count Rostopchin writes +that he will stake his life on it that the enemy will not enter +Moscow." + +"Oh, that count of yours!" said the princess malevolently. "He is +a hypocrite, a rascal who has himself roused the people to riot. +Didn't he write in those idiotic broadsheets that anyone, 'whoever +it might be, should be dragged to the lockup by his hair'? (How +silly!) 'And honor and glory to whoever captures him,' he says. This +is what his cajolery has brought us to! Barbara Ivanovna told me the +mob near killed her because she said something in French." + +"Oh, but it's so... You take everything so to heart," said Pierre, +and began laying out his cards for patience. + +Although that patience did come out, Pierre did not join the army, +but remained in deserted Moscow ever in the same state of agitation, +irresolution, and alarm, yet at the same time joyfully expecting +something terrible. + +Next day toward evening the princess set off, and Pierre's head +steward came to inform him that the money needed for the equipment +of his regiment could not be found without selling one of the estates. +In general the head steward made out to Pierre that his project of +raising a regiment would ruin him. Pierre listened to him, scarcely +able to repress a smile. + +"Well then, sell it," said he. "What's to be done? I can't draw back +now!" + +The worse everything became, especially his own affairs, the +better was Pierre pleased and the more evident was it that the +catastrophe he expected was approaching. Hardly anyone he knew was +left in town. Julie had gone, and so had Princess Mary. Of his +intimate friends only the Rostovs remained, but he did not go to see +them. + +To distract his thoughts he drove that day to the village of +Vorontsovo to see the great balloon Leppich was constructing to +destroy the foe, and a trial balloon that was to go up next day. The +balloon was not yet ready, but Pierre learned that it was being +constructed by the Emperor's desire. The Emperor had written to +Count Rostopchin as follows: + + +As soon as Leppich is ready, get together a crew of reliable and +intelligent men for his car and send a courier to General Kutuzov to +let him know. I have informed him of the matter. + +Please impress upon Leppich to be very careful where he descends for +the first time, that he may not make a mistake and fall into the +enemy's hands. It is essential for him to combine his movements with +those of the commander in chief. + + +On his way home from Vorontsovo, as he was passing the Bolotnoe +Place Pierre, seeing a large crowd round the Lobnoe Place, stopped and +got out of his trap. A French cook accused of being a spy was being +flogged. The flogging was only just over, and the executioner was +releasing from the flogging bench a stout man with red whiskers, in +blue stockings and a green jacket, who was moaning piteously. +Another criminal, thin and pale, stood near. Judging by their faces +they were both Frenchmen. With a frightened and suffering look +resembling that on the thin Frenchman's face, Pierre pushed his way in +through the crowd. + +"What is it? Who is it? What is it for?" he kept asking. + +But the attention of the crowd--officials, burghers, shopkeepers, +peasants, and women in cloaks and in pelisses--was so eagerly centered +on what was passing in Lobnoe Place that no one answered him. The +stout man rose, frowned, shrugged his shoulders, and evidently +trying to appear firm began to pull on his jacket without looking +about him, but suddenly his lips trembled and he began to cry, in +the way full-blooded grown-up men cry, though angry with himself for +doing so. In the crowd people began talking loudly, to stifle their +feelings of pity as it seemed to Pierre. + +"He's cook to some prince." + +"Eh, mounseer, Russian sauce seems to be sour to a Frenchman... sets +his teeth on edge!" said a wrinkled clerk who was standing behind +Pierre, when the Frenchman began to cry. + +The clerk glanced round, evidently hoping that his joke would be +appreciated. Some people began to laugh, others continued to watch +in dismay the executioner who was undressing the other man. + +Pierre choked, his face puckered, and he turned hastily away, went +back to his trap muttering something to himself as he went, and took +his seat. As they drove along he shuddered and exclaimed several times +so audibly that the coachman asked him: + +"What is your pleasure?" + +"Where are you going?" shouted Pierre to the man, who was driving to +Lubyanka Street. + +"To the Governor's, as you ordered," answered the coachman. + +"Fool! Idiot!" shouted Pierre, abusing his coachman--a thing he +rarely did. "Home, I told you! And drive faster, blockhead!" "I must +get away this very day," he murmured to himself. + +At the sight of the tortured Frenchman and the crowd surrounding the +Lobnoe Place, Pierre had so definitely made up his mind that he +could no longer remain in Moscow and would leave for the army that +very day that it seemed to him that either he had told the coachman +this or that the man ought to have known it for himself. + +On reaching home Pierre gave orders to Evstafey--his head coachman who +knew everything, could do anything, and was known to all Moscow--that +he would leave that night for the army at Mozhaysk, and that his +saddle horses should be sent there. This could not all be arranged +that day, so on Evstafey's representation Pierre had to put off his +departure till next day to allow time for the relay horses to be sent +on in advance. + +On the twenty-fourth the weather cleared up after a spell of rain, +and after dinner Pierre left Moscow. When changing horses that night +in Perkhushkovo, he learned that there had been a great battle that +evening. (This was the battle of Shevardino.) He was told that there +in Perkhushkovo the earth trembled from the firing, but nobody could +answer his questions as to who had won. At dawn next day Pierre was +approaching Mozhaysk. + +Every house in Mozhaysk had soldiers quartered in it, and at the +hostel where Pierre was met by his groom and coachman there was no +room to be had. It was full of officers. + +Everywhere in Mozhaysk and beyond it, troops were stationed or on +the march. Cossacks, foot and horse soldiers, wagons, caissons, and +cannon were everywhere. Pierre pushed forward as fast as he could, and +the farther he left Moscow behind and the deeper he plunged into +that sea of troops the more was he overcome by restless agitation +and a new and joyful feeling he had not experienced before. It was a +feeling akin to what he had felt at the Sloboda Palace during the +Emperor's visit--a sense of the necessity of undertaking something and +sacrificing something. He now experienced a glad consciousness that +everything that constitutes men's happiness--the comforts of life, +wealth, even life itself--is rubbish it is pleasant to throw away, +compared with something... With what? Pierre could not say, and he did +not try to determine for whom and for what he felt such particular +delight in sacrificing everything. He was not occupied with the +question of what to sacrifice for; the fact of sacrificing in itself +afforded him a new and joyous sensation. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +On the twenty-fourth of August the battle of the Shevardino +Redoubt was fought, on the twenty-fifth not a shot was fired by either +side, and on the twenty-sixth the battle of Borodino itself took +place. + +Why and how were the battles of Shevardino and Borodino given and +accepted? Why was the battle of Borodino fought? There was not the +least sense in it for either the French or the Russians. Its immediate +result for the Russians was, and was bound to be, that we were brought +nearer to the destruction of Moscow--which we feared more than +anything in the world; and for the French its immediate result was +that they were brought nearer to the destruction of their whole +army--which they feared more than anything in the world. What the +result must be was quite obvious, and yet Napoleon offered and Kutuzov +accepted that battle. + +If the commanders had been guided by reason, it would seem that it +must have been obvious to Napoleon that by advancing thirteen +hundred miles and giving battle with a probability of losing a quarter +of his army, he was advancing to certain destruction, and it must have +been equally clear to Kutuzov that by accepting battle and risking the +loss of a quarter of his army he would certainly lose Moscow. For +Kutuzov this was mathematically clear, as it is that if when playing +draughts I have one man less and go on exchanging, I shall certainly +lose, and therefore should not exchange. When my opponent has +sixteen men and I have fourteen, I am only one eighth weaker than +he, but when I have exchanged thirteen more men he will be three times +as strong as I am. + +Before the battle of Borodino our strength in proportion to the +French was about as five to six, but after that battle it was little +more than one to two: previously we had a hundred thousand against a +hundred and twenty thousand; afterwards little more than fifty +thousand against a hundred thousand. Yet the shrewd and experienced +Kutuzov accepted the battle, while Napoleon, who was said to be a +commander of genius, gave it, losing a quarter of his army and +lengthening his lines of communication still more. If it is said +that he expected to end the campaign by occupying Moscow as he had +ended a previous campaign by occupying Vienna, there is much +evidence to the contrary. Napoleon's historians themselves tell us +that from Smolensk onwards he wished to stop, knew the danger of his +extended position, and knew that the occupation of Moscow would not be +the end of the campaign, for he had seen at Smolensk the state in +which Russian towns were left to him, and had not received a single +reply to his repeated announcements of his wish to negotiate. + +In giving and accepting battle at Borodino, Kutuzov acted +involuntarily and irrationally. But later on, to fit what had +occurred, the historians provided cunningly devised evidence of the +foresight and genius of the generals who, of all the blind tools of +history were the most enslaved and involuntary. + +The ancients have left us model heroic poems in which the heroes +furnish the whole interest of the story, and we are still unable to +accustom ourselves to the fact that for our epoch histories of that +kind are meaningless. + +On the other question, how the battle of Borodino and the +preceding battle of Shevardino were fought, there also exists a +definite and well-known, but quite false, conception. All the +historians describe the affair as follows: + +The Russian army, they say, in its retreat from Smolensk sought +out for itself the best position for a general engagement and found +such a position at Borodino. + +The Russians, they say, fortified this position in advance on the +left of the highroad (from Moscow to Smolensk) and almost at a right +angle to it, from Borodino to Utitsa, at the very place where the +battle was fought. + +In front of this position, they say, a fortified outpost was set +up on the Shevardino mound to observe the enemy. On the twenty-fourth, +we are told, Napoleon attacked this advanced post and took it, and, on +the twenty-sixth, attacked the whole Russian army, which was in +position on the field of Borodino. + +So the histories say, and it is all quite wrong, as anyone who cares +to look into the matter can easily convince himself. + +The Russians did not seek out the best position but, on the +contrary, during the retreat passed many positions better than +Borodino. They did not stop at any one of these positions because +Kutuzov did not wish to occupy a position he had not himself chosen, +because the popular demand for a battle had not yet expressed itself +strongly enough, and because Miloradovich had not yet arrived with the +militia, and for many other reasons. The fact is that other +positions they had passed were stronger, and that the position at +Borodino (the one where the battle was fought), far from being strong, +was no more a position than any other spot one might find in the +Russian Empire by sticking a pin into the map at hazard. + +Not only did the Russians not fortify the position on the field of +Borodino to the left of, and at a right angle to, the highroad (that +is, the position on which the battle took place), but never till the +twenty-fifth of August, 1812, did they think that a battle might be +fought there. This was shown first by the fact that there were no +entrenchments there by the twenty fifth and that those begun on the +twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth were not completed, and secondly, by the +position of the Shevardino Redoubt. That redoubt was quite senseless +in front of the position where the battle was accepted. Why was it +more strongly fortified than any other post? And why were all +efforts exhausted and six thousand men sacrificed to defend it till +late at night on the twenty-fourth? A Cossack patrol would have +sufficed to observe the enemy. Thirdly, as proof that the position +on which the battle was fought had not been foreseen and that the +Shevardino Redoubt was not an advanced post of that position, we +have the fact that up to the twenty-fifth, Barclay de Tolly and +Bagration were convinced that the Shevardino Redoubt was the left +flank of the position, and that Kutuzov himself in his report, written +in hot haste after the battle, speaks of the Shevardino Redoubt as the +left flank of the position. It was much later, when reports on the +battle of Borodino were written at leisure, that the incorrect and +extraordinary statement was invented (probably to justify the mistakes +of a commander in chief who had to be represented as infallible) +that the Shevardino Redoubt was an advanced post--whereas in reality +it was simply a fortified point on the left flank--and that the battle +of Borodino was fought by us on an entrenched position previously +selected, where as it was fought on a quite unexpected spot which +was almost unentrenched. + +The case was evidently this: a position was selected along the river +Kolocha--which crosses the highroad not at a right angle but at an +acute angle--so that the left flank was at Shevardino, the right flank +near the village of Novoe, and the center at Borodino at the +confluence of the rivers Kolocha and Voyna. + +To anyone who looks at the field of Borodino without thinking of how +the battle was actually fought, this position, protected by the +river Kolocha, presents itself as obvious for an army whose object was +to prevent an enemy from advancing along the Smolensk road to Moscow. + +Napoleon, riding to Valuevo on the twenty-fourth, did not see (as +the history books say he did) the position of the Russians from Utitsa +to Borodino (he could not have seen that position because it did not +exist), nor did he see an advanced post of the Russian army, but while +pursuing the Russian rearguard he came upon the left flank of the +Russian position--at the Shevardino Redoubt--and unexpectedly for +the Russians moved his army across the Kolocha. And the Russians, +not having time to begin a general engagement, withdrew their left +wing from the position they had intended to occupy and took up a new +position which had not been foreseen and was not fortified. By +crossing to the other side of the Kolocha to the left of the highroad, +Napoleon shifted the whole forthcoming battle from right to left +(looking from the Russian side) and transferred it to the plain +between Utitsa, Semenovsk, and Borodino--a plain no more +advantageous as a position than any other plain in Russia--and there +the whole battle of the twenty-sixth of August took place. + +Had Napoleon not ridden out on the evening of the twenty-fourth to the +Kolocha, and had he not then ordered an immediate attack on the +redoubt but had begun the attack next morning, no one would have +doubted that the Shevardino Redoubt was the left flank of our +position, and the battle would have taken place where we expected it. +In that case we should probably have defended the Shevardino +Redoubt--our left flank--still more obstinately. We should have +attacked Napoleon in the center or on the right, and the engagement +would have taken place on the twenty-fifth, in the position we +intended and had fortified. But as the attack on our left flank took +place in the evening after the retreat of our rear guard (that is, +immediately after the fight at Gridneva), and as the Russian +commanders did not wish, or were not in time, to begin a general +engagement then on the evening of the twenty-fourth, the first and +chief action of the battle of Borodino was already lost on the +twenty-fourth, and obviously led to the loss of the one fought on the +twenty-sixth. + +After the loss of the Shevardino Redoubt, we found ourselves on +the morning of the twenty-fifth without a position for our left flank, +and were forced to bend it back and hastily entrench it where it +chanced to be. + +Not only was the Russian army on the twenty-sixth defended by +weak, unfinished entrenchments, but the disadvantage of that +position was increased by the fact that the Russian commanders--not +having fully realized what had happened, namely the loss of our +position on the left flank and the shifting of the whole field of +the forthcoming battle from right to left--maintained their extended +position from the village of Novoe to Utitsa, and consequently had +to move their forces from right to left during the battle. So it +happened that throughout the whole battle the Russians opposed the +entire French army launched against our left flank with but half as +many men. (Poniatowski's action against Utitsa, and Uvarov's on the +right flank against the French, were actions distinct from the main +course of the battle.) So the battle of Borodino did not take place at +all as (in an effort to conceal our commanders' mistakes even at the +cost of diminishing the glory due to the Russian army and people) it +has been described. The battle of Borodino was not fought on a +chosen and entrenched position with forces only slightly weaker than +those of the enemy, but, as a result of the loss of the Shevardino +Redoubt, the Russians fought the battle of Borodino on an open and +almost unentrenched position, with forces only half as numerous as the +French; that is to say, under conditions in which it was not merely +unthinkable to fight for ten hours and secure an indecisive result, +but unthinkable to keep an army even from complete disintegration +and flight. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +On the morning of the twenty-fifth Pierre was leaving Mozhaysk. At +the descent of the high steep hill, down which a winding road led +out of the town past the cathedral on the right, where a service was +being held and the bells were ringing, Pierre got out of his vehicle +and proceeded on foot. Behind him a cavalry regiment was coming down +the hill preceded by its singers. Coming up toward him was a train +of carts carrying men who had been wounded in the engagement the day +before. The peasant drivers, shouting and lashing their horses, kept +crossing from side to side. The carts, in each of which three or +four wounded soldiers were lying or sitting, jolted over the stones +that had been thrown on the steep incline to make it something like +a road. The wounded, bandaged with rags, with pale cheeks, +compressed lips, and knitted brows, held on to the sides of the +carts as they were jolted against one another. Almost all of them +stared with naive, childlike curiosity at Pierre's white hat and green +swallow-tail coat. + +Pierre's coachman shouted angrily at the convoy of wounded to keep +to one side of the road. The cavalry regiment, as it descended the +hill with its singers, surrounded Pierre's carriage and blocked the +road. Pierre stopped, being pressed against the side of the cutting in +which the road ran. The sunshine from behind the hill did not +penetrate into the cutting and there it was cold and damp, but above +Pierre's head was the bright August sunshine and the bells sounded +merrily. One of the carts with wounded stopped by the side of the road +close to Pierre. The driver in his bast shoes ran panting up to it, +placed a stone under one of its tireless hind wheels, and began +arranging the breech-band on his little horse. + +One of the wounded, an old soldier with a bandaged arm who was +following the cart on foot, caught hold of it with his sound hand +and turned to look at Pierre. + +"I say, fellow countryman! Will they set us down here or take us +on to Moscow?" he asked. + +Pierre was so deep in thought that he did not hear the question. +He was looking now at the cavalry regiment that had met the convoy +of wounded, now at the cart by which he was standing, in which two +wounded men were sitting and one was lying. One of those sitting up in +the cart had probably been wounded in the cheek. His whole head was +wrapped in rags and one cheek was swollen to the size of a baby's +head. His nose and mouth were twisted to one side. This soldier was +looking at the cathedral and crossing himself. Another, a young lad, a +fair-haired recruit as white as though there was no blood in his +thin face, looked at Pierre kindly, with a fixed smile. The third +lay prone so that his face was not visible. The cavalry singers were +passing close by: + + Ah lost, quite lost... is my head so keen, + Living in a foreign land. + +they sang their soldiers' dance song. + +As if responding to them but with a different sort of merriment, the +metallic sound of the bells reverberated high above and the hot rays +of the sun bathed the top of the opposite slope with yet another +sort of merriment. But beneath the slope, by the cart with the wounded +near the panting little nag where Pierre stood, it was damp, somber, +and sad. + +The soldier with the swollen cheek looked angrily at the cavalry +singers. + +"Oh, the coxcombs!" he muttered reproachfully. + +"It's not the soldiers only, but I've seen peasants today, too.... +The peasants--even they have to go," said the soldier behind the cart, +addressing Pierre with a sad smile. "No distinctions made nowadays.... +They want the whole nation to fall on them--in a word, it's Moscow! +They want to make an end of it." + +In spite of the obscurity of the soldier's words Pierre understood +what he wanted to say and nodded approval. + +The road was clear again; Pierre descended the hill and drove on. + +He kept looking to either side of the road for familiar faces, but +only saw everywhere the unfamiliar faces of various military men of +different branches of the service, who all looked with astonishment at +his white hat and green tail coat. + +Having gone nearly three miles he at last met an acquaintance and +eagerly addressed him. This was one of the head army doctors. He was +driving toward Pierre in a covered gig, sitting beside a young +surgeon, and on recognizing Pierre he told the Cossack who occupied +the driver's seat to pull up. + +"Count! Your excellency, how come you to be here?" asked the doctor. + +"Well, you know, I wanted to see..." + +"Yes, yes, there will be something to see...." + +Pierre got out and talked to the doctor, explaining his intention of +taking part in a battle. + +The doctor advised him to apply direct to Kutuzov. + +"Why should you be God knows where out of sight, during the battle?" +he said, exchanging glances with his young companion. "Anyhow his +Serene Highness knows you and will receive you graciously. That's what +you must do." + +The doctor seemed tired and in a hurry. + +"You think so?... Ah, I also wanted to ask you where our position is +exactly?" said Pierre. + +"The position?" repeated the doctor. "Well, that's not my line. +Drive past Tatarinova, a lot of digging is going on there. Go up the +hillock and you'll see." + +"Can one see from there?... If you would..." + +But the doctor interrupted him and moved toward his gig. + +"I would go with you but on my honor I'm up to here"--and he pointed +to his throat. "I'm galloping to the commander of the corps. How do +matters stand?... You know, Count, there'll be a battle tomorrow. +Out of an army of a hundred thousand we must expect at least twenty +thousand wounded, and we haven't stretchers, or bunks, or dressers, or +doctors enough for six thousand. We have ten thousand carts, but we +need other things as well--we must manage as best we can!" + +The strange thought that of the thousands of men, young and old, who +had stared with merry surprise at his hat (perhaps the very men he had +noticed), twenty thousand were inevitably doomed to wounds and death +amazed Pierre. + +"They may die tomorrow; why are they thinking of anything but +death?" And by some latent sequence of thought the descent of the +Mozhaysk hill, the carts with the wounded, the ringing bells, the +slanting rays of the sun, and the songs of the cavalrymen vividly +recurred to his mind. + +"The cavalry ride to battle and meet the wounded and do not for a +moment think of what awaits them, but pass by, winking at the wounded. +Yet from among these men twenty thousand are doomed to die, and they +wonder at my hat! Strange!" thought Pierre, continuing his way to +Tatarinova. + +In front of a landowner's house to the left of the road stood +carriages, wagons, and crowds of orderlies and sentinels. The +commander in chief was putting up there, but just when Pierre +arrived he was not in and hardly any of the staff were there--they had +gone to the church service. Pierre drove on toward Gorki. + +When he had ascended the hill and reached the little village street, +he saw for the first time peasant militiamen in their white shirts and +with crosses on their caps, who, talking and laughing loudly, animated +and perspiring, were at work on a huge knoll overgrown with grass to +the right of the road. + +Some of them were digging, others were wheeling barrowloads of earth +along planks, while others stood about doing nothing. + +Two officers were standing on the knoll, directing the men. On +seeing these peasants, who were evidently still amused by the +novelty of their position as soldiers, Pierre once more thought of the +wounded men at Mozhaysk and understood what the soldier had meant when +he said: "They want the whole nation to fall on them." The sight of +these bearded peasants at work on the battlefield, with their queer, +clumsy boots and perspiring necks, and their shirts opening from the +left toward the middle, unfastened, exposing their sunburned +collarbones, impressed Pierre more strongly with the solemnity and +importance of the moment than anything he had yet seen or heard. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Pierre stepped out of his carriage and, passing the toiling +militiamen, ascended the knoll from which, according to the doctor, +the battlefield could be seen. + +It was about eleven o'clock. The sun shone somewhat to the left +and behind him and brightly lit up the enormous panorama which, rising +like an amphitheater, extended before him in the clear rarefied +atmosphere. + +From above on the left, bisecting that amphitheater, wound the +Smolensk highroad, passing through a village with a white church +some five hundred paces in front of the knoll and below it. This was +Borodino. Below the village the road crossed the river by a bridge +and, winding down and up, rose higher and higher to the village of +Valuevo visible about four miles away, where Napoleon was then +stationed. Beyond Valuevo the road disappeared into a yellowing forest +on the horizon. Far in the distance in that birch and fir forest to +the right of the road, the cross and belfry of the Kolocha Monastery +gleamed in the sun. Here and there over the whole of that blue +expanse, to right and left of the forest and the road, smoking +campfires could be seen and indefinite masses of troops--ours and +the enemy's. The ground to the right--along the course of the +Kolocha and Moskva rivers--was broken and hilly. Between the hollows +the villages of Bezubova and Zakharino showed in the distance. On +the left the ground was more level; there were fields of grain, and +the smoking ruins of Semenovsk, which had been burned down, could be +seen. + +All that Pierre saw was so indefinite that neither the left nor +the right side of the field fully satisfied his expectations. +Nowhere could he see the battlefield he had expected to find, but only +fields, meadows, troops, woods, the smoke of campfires, villages, +mounds, and streams; and try as he would he could descry no military +"position" in this place which teemed with life, nor could he even +distinguish our troops from the enemy's. + +"I must ask someone who knows," he thought, and addressed an officer +who was looking with curiosity at his huge unmilitary figure. + +"May I ask you," said Pierre, "what village that is in front?" + +"Burdino, isn't it?" said the officer, turning to his companion. + +"Borodino," the other corrected him. + +The officer, evidently glad of an opportunity for a talk, moved up +to Pierre. + +"Are those our men there?" Pierre inquired. + +"Yes, and there, further on, are the French," said the officer. +"There they are, there... you can see them." + +"Where? Where?" asked Pierre. + +"One can see them with the naked eye... Why, there!" + +The officer pointed with his hand to the smoke visible on the left +beyond the river, and the same stern and serious expression that +Pierre had noticed on many of the faces he had met came into his face. + +"Ah, those are the French! And over there?..." Pierre pointed to a +knoll on the left, near which some troops could be seen. + +"Those are ours." + +"Ah, ours! And there?..." Pierre pointed to another knoll in the +distance with a big tree on it, near a village that lay in a hollow +where also some campfires were smoking and something black was +visible. + +"That's his again," said the officer. (It was the Shevardino +Redoubt.) "It was ours yesterday, but now it is his." + +"Then how about our position?" + +"Our position?" replied the officer with a smile of satisfaction. "I +can tell you quite clearly, because I constructed nearly all our +entrenchments. There, you see? There's our center, at Borodino, just +there," and he pointed to the village in front of them with the +white church. "That's where one crosses the Kolocha. You see down +there where the rows of hay are lying in the hollow, there's the +bridge. That's our center. Our right flank is over there"--he +pointed sharply to the right, far away in the broken ground--"That's +where the Moskva River is, and we have thrown up three redoubts there, +very strong ones. The left flank..." here the officer paused. "Well, +you see, that's difficult to explain.... Yesterday our left flank +was there at Shevardino, you see, where the oak is, but now we have +withdrawn our left wing--now it is over there, do you see that village +and the smoke? That's Semenovsk, yes, there," he pointed to +Raevski's knoll. "But the battle will hardly be there. His having +moved his troops there is only a ruse; he will probably pass round +to the right of the Moskva. But wherever it may be, many a man will be +missing tomorrow!" he remarked. + +An elderly sergeant who had approached the officer while he was +giving these explanations had waited in silence for him to finish +speaking, but at this point, evidently not liking the officer's +remark, interrupted him. + +"Gabions must be sent for," said he sternly. + +The officer appeared abashed, as though he understood that one might +think of how many men would be missing tomorrow but ought not to speak +of it. + +"Well, send number three company again," the officer replied +hurriedly. + +"And you, are you one of the doctors?" + +"No, I've come on my own," answered Pierre, and he went down the +hill again, passing the militiamen. + +"Oh, those damned fellows!" muttered the officer who followed him, +holding his nose as he ran past the men at work. + +"There they are... bringing her, coming... There they are... They'll +be here in a minute..." voices were suddenly heard saying; and +officers, soldiers, and militiamen began running forward along the +road. + +A church procession was coming up the hill from Borodino. First +along the dusty road came the infantry in ranks, bareheaded and with +arms reversed. From behind them came the sound of church singing. + +Soldiers and militiamen ran bareheaded past Pierre toward the +procession. + +"They are bringing her, our Protectress!... The Iberian Mother of +God!" someone cried. + +"The Smolensk Mother of God," another corrected him. + +The militiamen, both those who had been in the village and those who +had been at work on the battery, threw down their spades and ran to +meet the church procession. Following the battalion that marched along +the dusty road came priests in their vestments--one little old man in +a hood with attendants and singers. Behind them soldiers and officers +bore a large, dark-faced icon with an embossed metal cover. This was +the icon that had been brought from Smolensk and had since accompanied +the army. Behind, before, and on both sides, crowds of militiamen with +bared heads walked, ran, and bowed to the ground. + +At the summit of the hill they stopped with the icon; the men who had +been holding it up by the linen bands attached to it were relieved by +others, the chanters relit their censers, and service began. The hot +rays of the sun beat down vertically and a fresh soft wind played with +the hair of the bared heads and with the ribbons decorating the icon. +The singing did not sound loud under the open sky. An immense crowd of +bareheaded officers, soldiers, and militiamen surrounded the icon. +Behind the priest and a chanter stood the notabilities on a spot +reserved for them. A bald general with a St. George's Cross on his +neck stood just behind the priest's back, and without crossing himself +(he was evidently a German) patiently awaited the end of the service, +which he considered it necessary to hear to the end, probably to +arouse the patriotism of the Russian people. Another general stood in +a martial pose, crossing himself by shaking his hand in front of his +chest while looking about him. Standing among the crowd of peasants, +Pierre recognized several acquaintances among these notables, but did +not look at them--his whole attention was absorbed in watching the +serious expression on the faces of the crowd of soldiers and +militiamen who were all gazing eagerly at the icon. As soon as the +tired chanters, who were singing the service for the twentieth time +that day, began lazily and mechanically to sing: "Save from calamity +Thy servants, O Mother of God," and the priest and deacon chimed in: +"For to Thee under God we all flee as to an inviolable bulwark and +protection," there again kindled in all those faces the same +expression of consciousness of the solemnity of the impending moment +that Pierre had seen on the faces at the foot of the hill at Mozhaysk +and momentarily on many and many faces he had met that morning; and +heads were bowed more frequently and hair tossed back, and sighs and +the sound men made as they crossed themselves were heard. + +The crowd round the icon suddenly parted and pressed against Pierre. +Someone, a very important personage judging by the haste with which +way was made for him, was approaching the icon. + +It was Kutuzov, who had been riding round the position and on his +way back to Tatarinova had stopped where the service was being held. +Pierre recognized him at once by his peculiar figure, which +distinguished him from everybody else. + +With a long overcoat on his exceedingly stout, round-shouldered body, +with uncovered white head and puffy face showing the white ball of the +eye he had lost, Kutuzov walked with plunging, swaying gait into the +crowd and stopped behind the priest. He crossed himself with an +accustomed movement, bent till he touched the ground with his hand, +and bowed his white head with a deep sigh. Behind Kutuzov was +Bennigsen and the suite. Despite the presence of the commander in +chief, who attracted the attention of all the superior officers, the +militiamen and soldiers continued their prayers without looking at +him. + +When the service was over, Kutuzov stepped up to the icon, sank +heavily to his knees, bowed to the ground, and for a long time tried +vainly to rise, but could not do so on account of his weakness and +weight. His white head twitched with the effort. At last he rose, +kissed the icon as a child does with naively pouting lips, and again +bowed till he touched the ground with his hand. The other generals +followed his example, then the officers, and after them with excited +faces, pressing on one another, crowding, panting, and pushing, +scrambled the soldiers and militiamen. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Staggering amid the crush, Pierre looked about him. + +"Count Peter Kirilovich! How did you get here?" said a voice. + +Pierre looked round. Boris Drubetskoy, brushing his knees with his +hand (he had probably soiled them when he, too, had knelt before the +icon), came up to him smiling. Boris was elegantly dressed, with a +slightly martial touch appropriate to a campaign. He wore a long +coat and like Kutuzov had a whip slung across his shoulder. + +Meanwhile Kutuzov had reached the village and seated himself in +the shade of the nearest house, on a bench which one Cossack had run +to fetch and another had hastily covered with a rug. An immense and +brilliant suite surrounded him. + +The icon was carried further, accompanied by the throng. Pierre +stopped some thirty paces from Kutuzov, talking to Boris. + +He explained his wish to be present at the battle and to see the +position. + +"This is what you must do," said Boris. "I will do the honors of the +camp to you. You will see everything best from where Count Bennigsen +will be. I am in attendance on him, you know; I'll mention it to +him. But if you want to ride round the position, come along with us. +We are just going to the left flank. Then when we get back, do spend +the night with me and we'll arrange a game of cards. Of course you +know Dmitri Sergeevich? Those are his quarters," and he pointed to the +third house in the village of Gorki. + +"But I should like to see the right flank. They say it's very +strong," said Pierre. "I should like to start from the Moskva River +and ride round the whole position." + +"Well, you can do that later, but the chief thing is the left +flank." + +"Yes, yes. But where is Prince Bolkonski's regiment? Can you point +it out to me?" + +"Prince Andrew's? We shall pass it and I'll take you to him." + +"What about the left flank?" asked Pierre + +"To tell you the truth, between ourselves, God only knows what state +our left flank is in," said Boris confidentially lowering his voice. +"It is not at all what Count Bennigsen intended. He meant to fortify +that knoll quite differently, but..." Boris shrugged his shoulders, +"his Serene Highness would not have it, or someone persuaded him. +You see..." but Boris did not finish, for at that moment Kaysarov, +Kutuzov's adjutant, came up to Pierre. "Ah, Kaysarov!" said Boris, +addressing him with an unembarrassed smile, "I was just trying to +explain our position to the count. It is amazing how his Serene +Highness could so foresee the intentions of the French!" + +"You mean the left flank?" asked Kaysarov. + +"Yes, exactly; the left flank is now extremely strong." + +Though Kutuzov had dismissed all unnecessary men from the staff, +Boris had contrived to remain at headquarters after the changes. He +had established himself with Count Bennigsen, who, like all on whom +Boris had been in attendance, considered young Prince Drubetskoy an +invaluable man. + +In the higher command there were two sharply defined parties: +Kutuzov's party and that of Bennigsen, the chief of staff. Boris +belonged to the latter and no one else, while showing servile +respect to Kutuzov, could so create an impression that the old +fellow was not much good and that Bennigsen managed everything. Now +the decisive moment of battle had come when Kutuzov would be destroyed +and the power pass to Bennigsen, or even if Kutuzov won the battle +it would be felt that everything was done by Bennigsen. In any case +many great rewards would have to be given for tomorrow's action, and +new men would come to the front. So Boris was full of nervous vivacity +all day. + +After Kaysarov, others whom Pierre knew came up to him, and he had +not time to reply to all the questions about Moscow that were showered +upon him, or to listen to all that was told him. The faces all +expressed animation and apprehension, but it seemed to Pierre that the +cause of the excitement shown in some of these faces lay chiefly in +questions of personal success; his mind, however, was occupied by +the different expression he saw on other faces--an expression that +spoke not of personal matters but of the universal questions of life +and death. Kutuzov noticed Pierre's figure and the group gathered +round him. + +"Call him to me," said Kutuzov. + +An adjutant told Pierre of his Serene Highness' wish, and Pierre +went toward Kutuzov's bench. But a militiaman got there before him. It +was Dolokhov. + +"How did that fellow get here?" asked Pierre. + +"He's a creature that wriggles in anywhere!" was the answer. "He has +been degraded, you know. Now he wants to bob up again. He's been +proposing some scheme or other and has crawled into the enemy's picket +line at night.... He's a brave fellow." + +Pierre took off his hat and bowed respectfully to Kutuzov. + +"I concluded that if I reported to your Serene Highness you might +send me away or say that you knew what I was reporting, but then I +shouldn't lose anything..." Dolokhov was saying. + +"Yes, yes." + +"But if I were right, I should be rendering a service to my +Fatherland for which I am ready to die." + +"Yes, yes." + +"And should your Serene Highness require a man who will not spare +his skin, please think of me.... Perhaps I may prove useful to your +Serene Highness." + +"Yes... Yes..." Kutuzov repeated, his laughing eye narrowing more +and more as he looked at Pierre. + +Just then Boris, with his courtierlike adroitness, stepped up to +Pierre's side near Kutuzov and in a most natural manner, without +raising his voice, said to Pierre, as though continuing an interrupted +conversation: + +"The militia have put on clean white shirts to be ready to die. What +heroism, Count!" + +Boris evidently said this to Pierre in order to be overheard by +his Serene Highness. He knew Kutuzov's attention would be caught by +those words, and so it was. + +"What are you saying about the militia?" he asked Boris. + +"Preparing for tomorrow, your Serene Highness--for death--they +have put on clean shirts." + +"Ah... a wonderful, a matchless people!" said Kutuzov; and he closed +his eyes and swayed his head. "A matchless people!" he repeated with a +sigh. + +"So you want to smell gunpowder?" he said to Pierre. "Yes, it's a +pleasant smell. I have the honor to be one of your wife's adorers. +Is she well? My quarters are at your service." + +And as often happens with old people, Kutuzov began looking about +absent-mindedly as if forgetting all he wanted to say or do. + +Then, evidently remembering what he wanted, he beckoned to Andrew +Kaysarov, his adjutant's brother. + +"Those verses... those verses of Marin's... how do they go, eh? +Those he wrote about Gerakov: 'Lectures for the corps inditing'... +Recite them, recite them!" said he, evidently preparing to laugh. + +Kaysarov recited.... Kutuzov smilingly nodded his head to the rhythm +of the verses. + +When Pierre had left Kutuzov, Dolokhov came up to him and took his +hand. + +"I am very glad to meet you here, Count," he said aloud, +regardless of the presence of strangers and in a particularly resolute +and solemn tone. "On the eve of a day when God alone knows who of us +is fated to survive, I am glad of this opportunity to tell you that +I regret the misunderstandings that occurred between us and should +wish you not to have any ill feeling for me. I beg you to forgive me." + +Pierre looked at Dolokhov with a smile, not knowing what to say to +him. With tears in his eyes Dolokhov embraced Pierre and kissed him. + +Boris said a few words to his general, and Count Bennigsen turned to +Pierre and proposed that he should ride with him along the line. + +"It will interest you," said he. + +"Yes, very much," replied Pierre. + +Half an hour later Kutuzov left for Tatarinova, and Bennigsen and +his suite, with Pierre among them, set out on their ride along the +line. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +From Gorki, Bennigsen descended the highroad to the bridge which, +when they had looked at it from the hill, the officer had pointed out +as being the center of our position and where rows of fragrant +new-mown hay lay by the riverside. They rode across that bridge into +the village of Borodino and thence turned to the left, passing an +enormous number of troops and guns, and came to a high knoll where +militiamen were digging. This was the redoubt, as yet unnamed, which +afterwards became known as the Raevski Redoubt, or the Knoll +Battery, but Pierre paid no special attention to it. He did not know +that it would become more memorable to him than any other spot on +the plain of Borodino. + +They then crossed the hollow to Semenovsk, where the soldiers were +dragging away the last logs from the huts and barns. Then they rode +downhill and uphill, across a ryefield trodden and beaten down as if +by hail, following a track freshly made by the artillery over the +furrows of the plowed land, and reached some fleches* which were still +being dug. + + +*A kind of entrenchment. + + +At the fleches Bennigsen stopped and began looking at the Shevardino +Redoubt opposite, which had been ours the day before and where several +horsemen could be descried. The officers said that either Napoleon +or Murat was there, and they all gazed eagerly at this little group of +horsemen. Pierre also looked at them, trying to guess which of the +scarcely discernible figures was Napoleon. At last those mounted men +rode away from the mound and disappeared. + +Bennigsen spoke to a general who approached him, and began +explaining the whole position of our troops. Pierre listened to him, +straining each faculty to understand the essential points of the +impending battle, but was mortified to feel that his mental capacity +was inadequate for the task. He could make nothing of it. Bennigsen +stopped speaking and, noticing that Pierre was listening, suddenly +said to him: + +"I don't think this interests you?" + +"On the contrary it's very interesting!" replied Pierre not quite +truthfully. + +From the fleches they rode still farther to the left, along a road +winding through a thick, low-growing birch wood. In the middle of +the wood a brown hare with white feet sprang out and, scared by the +tramp of the many horses, grew so confused that it leaped along the +road in front of them for some time, arousing general attention and +laughter, and only when several voices shouted at it did it dart to +one side and disappear in the thicket. After going through the wood +for about a mile and a half they came out on a glade where troops of +Tuchkov's corps were stationed to defend the left flank. + +Here, at the extreme left flank, Bennigsen talked a great deal and +with much heat, and, as it seemed to Pierre, gave orders of great +military importance. In front of Tuchkov's troops was some high ground +not occupied by troops. Bennigsen loudly criticized this mistake, +saying that it was madness to leave a height which commanded the +country around unoccupied and to place troops below it. Some of the +generals expressed the same opinion. One in particular declared with +martial heat that they were put there to be slaughtered. Bennigsen +on his own authority ordered the troops to occupy the high ground. +This disposition on the left flank increased Pierre's doubt of his own +capacity to understand military matters. Listening to Bennigsen and +the generals criticizing the position of the troops behind the hill, +he quite understood them and shared their opinion, but for that very +reason he could not understand how the man who put them there behind +the hill could have made so gross and palpable a blunder. + +Pierre did not know that these troops were not, as Bennigsen +supposed, put there to defend the position, but were in a concealed +position as an ambush, that they should not be seen and might be +able to strike an approaching enemy unexpectedly. Bennigsen did not +know this and moved the troops forward according to his own ideas +without mentioning the matter to the commander in chief. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +On that bright evening of August 25, Prince Andrew lay leaning on +his elbow in a broken-down shed in the village of Knyazkovo at the +further end of his regiment's encampment. Through a gap in the +broken wall he could see, beside the wooden fence, a row of thirty +year-old birches with their lower branches lopped off, a field on +which shocks of oats were standing, and some bushes near which rose +the smoke of campfires--the soldiers' kitchens. + +Narrow and burdensome and useless to anyone as his life now seemed +to him, Prince Andrew on the eve of battle felt agitated and irritable +as he had done seven years before at Austerlitz. + +He had received and given the orders for next day's battle and had +nothing more to do. But his thoughts--the simplest, clearest, and +therefore most terrible thoughts--would give him no peace. He knew +that tomorrow's battle would be the most terrible of all he had +taken part in, and for the first time in his life the possibility of +death presented itself to him--not in relation to any worldly matter +or with reference to its effect on others, but simply in relation to +himself, to his own soul--vividly, plainly, terribly, and almost as +a certainty. And from the height of this perception all that had +previously tormented and preoccupied him suddenly became illumined +by a cold white light without shadows, without perspective, without +distinction of outline. All life appeared to him like magic-lantern +pictures at which he had long been gazing by artificial light +through a glass. Now he suddenly saw those badly daubed pictures in +clear daylight and without a glass. "Yes, yes! There they are, those +false images that agitated, enraptured, and tormented me," said he +to himself, passing in review the principal pictures of the magic +lantern of life and regarding them now in the cold white daylight of +his clear perception of death. "There they are, those rudely painted +figures that once seemed splendid and mysterious. Glory, the good of +society, love of a woman, the Fatherland itself--how important these +pictures appeared to me, with what profound meaning they seemed to +be filled! And it is all so simple, pale, and crude in the cold +white light of this morning which I feel is dawning for me." The three +great sorrows of his life held his attention in particular: his love +for a woman, his father's death, and the French invasion which had +overrun half Russia. "Love... that little girl who seemed to me +brimming over with mystic forces! Yes, indeed, I loved her. I made +romantic plans of love and happiness with her! Oh, what a boy I +was!" he said aloud bitterly. "Ah me! I believed in some ideal love +which was to keep her faithful to me for the whole year of my absence! +Like the gentle dove in the fable she was to pine apart from me.... +But it was much simpler really.... It was all very simple and +horrible." + +"When my father built Bald Hills he thought the place was his: his +land, his air, his peasants. But Napoleon came and swept him aside, +unconscious of his existence, as he might brush a chip from his +path, and his Bald Hills and his whole life fell to pieces. Princess +Mary says it is a trial sent from above. What is the trial for, when +he is not here and will never return? He is not here! For whom then is +the trial intended? The Fatherland, the destruction of Moscow! And +tomorrow I shall be killed, perhaps not even by a Frenchman but by one +of our own men, by a soldier discharging a musket close to my ear as +one of them did yesterday, and the French will come and take me by +head and heels and fling me into a hole that I may not stink under +their noses, and new conditions of life will arise, which will seem +quite ordinary to others and about which I shall know nothing. I shall +not exist..." + +He looked at the row of birches shining in the sunshine, with +their motionless green and yellow foliage and white bark. "To die... +to be killed tomorrow... That I should not exist... That all this +should still be, but no me...." + +And the birches with their light and shade, the curly clouds, the +smoke of the campfires, and all that was around him changed and seemed +terrible and menacing. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He rose +quickly, went out of the shed, and began to walk about. + +After he had returned, voices were heard outside the shed. "Who's +that?" he cried. + +The red-nosed Captain Timokhin, formerly Dolokhov's squadron +commander, but now from lack of officers a battalion commander, +shyly entered the shed followed by an adjutant and the regimental +paymaster. + +Prince Andrew rose hastily, listened to the business they had come +about, gave them some further instructions, and was about to dismiss +them when he heard a familiar, lisping, voice behind the shed. + +"Devil take it!" said the voice of a man stumbling over something. + +Prince Andrew looked out of the shed and saw Pierre, who had tripped +over a pole on the ground and had nearly fallen, coming his way. It +was unpleasant to Prince Andrew to meet people of his own set in +general, and Pierre especially, for he reminded him of all the painful +moments of his last visit to Moscow. + +"You? What a surprise!" said he. "What brings you here? This is +unexpected!" + +As he said this his eyes and face expressed more than coldness--they +expressed hostility, which Pierre noticed at once. He had approached +the shed full of animation, but on seeing Prince Andrew's face he felt +constrained and ill at ease. + +"I have come... simply... you know... come... it interests me," said +Pierre, who had so often that day senselessly repeated that word +"interesting." "I wish to see the battle." + +"Oh yes, and what do the Masonic brothers say about war? How would +they stop it?" said Prince Andrew sarcastically. "Well, and how's +Moscow? And my people? Have they reached Moscow at last?" he asked +seriously. + +"Yes, they have. Julie Drubetskaya told me so. I went to see them, +but missed them. They have gone to your estate near Moscow." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +The officers were about to take leave, but Prince Andrew, apparently +reluctant to be left alone with his friend, asked them to stay and +have tea. Seats were brought in and so was the tea. The officers gazed +with surprise at Pierre's huge stout figure and listened to his talk +of Moscow and the position of our army, round which he had ridden. +Prince Andrew remained silent, and his expression was so forbidding +that Pierre addressed his remarks chiefly to the good-natured +battalion commander. + +"So you understand the whole position of our troops?" Prince +Andrew interrupted him. + +"Yes--that is, how do you mean?" said Pierre. "Not being a +military man I can't say I have understood it fully, but I +understand the general position." + +"Well, then, you know more than anyone else, be it who it may," said +Prince Andrew. + +"Oh!" said Pierre, looking over his spectacles in perplexity at Prince +Andrew. "Well, and what do you think of Kutuzov's appointment?" he +asked. + +"I was very glad of his appointment, that's all I know," replied +Prince Andrew. + +"And tell me your opinion of Barclay de Tolly. In Moscow they are +saying heaven knows what about him.... What do you think of him?" + +"Ask them," replied Prince Andrew, indicating the officers. + +Pierre looked at Timokhin with the condescendingly interrogative +smile with which everybody involuntarily addressed that officer. + +"We see light again, since his Serenity has been appointed, your +excellency," said Timokhin timidly, and continually turning to +glance at his colonel. + +"Why so?" asked Pierre. + +"Well, to mention only firewood and fodder, let me inform you. +Why, when we were retreating from Sventsyani we dare not touch a stick +or a wisp of hay or anything. You see, we were going away, so he would +get it all; wasn't it so, your excellency?" and again Timokhin +turned to the prince. "But we daren't. In our regiment two officers +were court-martialed for that kind of thing. But when his Serenity +took command everything became straight forward. Now we see light..." + +"Then why was it forbidden?" + +Timokhin looked about in confusion, not knowing what or how to +answer such a question. Pierre put the same question to Prince Andrew. + +"Why, so as not to lay waste the country we were abandoning to the +enemy," said Prince Andrew with venomous irony. "It is very sound: one +can't permit the land to be pillaged and accustom the troops to +marauding. At Smolensk too he judged correctly that the French might +outflank us, as they had larger forces. But he could not understand +this," cried Prince Andrew in a shrill voice that seemed to escape him +involuntarily: "he could not understand that there, for the first +time, we were fighting for Russian soil, and that there was a spirit +in the men such as I had never seen before, that we had held the +French for two days, and that that success had increased our +strength tenfold. He ordered us to retreat, and all our efforts and +losses went for nothing. He had no thought of betraying us, he tried +to do the best he could, he thought out everything, and that is why he +is unsuitable. He is unsuitable now, just because he plans out +everything very thoroughly and accurately as every German has to. +How can I explain?... Well, say your father has a German valet, and he +is a splendid valet and satisfies your father's requirements better +than you could, then it's all right to let him serve. But if your +father is mortally sick you'll send the valet away and attend to +your father with your own unpracticed, awkward hands, and will +soothe him better than a skilled man who is a stranger could. So it +has been with Barclay. While Russia was well, a foreigner could +serve her and be a splendid minister; but as soon as she is in +danger she needs one of her own kin. But in your Club they have been +making him out a traitor! They slander him as a traitor, and the +only result will be that afterwards, ashamed of their false +accusations, they will make him out a hero or a genius instead of a +traitor, and that will be still more unjust. He is an honest and +very punctilious German." + +"And they say he's a skillful commander," rejoined Pierre. + +"I don't understand what is meant by 'a skillful commander,'" +replied Prince Andrew ironically. + +"A skillful commander?" replied Pierre. "Why, one who foresees all +contingencies... and foresees the adversary's intentions." + +"But that's impossible," said Prince Andrew as if it were a matter +settled long ago. + +Pierre looked at him in surprise. + +"And yet they say that war is like a game of chess?" he remarked. + +"Yes," replied Prince Andrew, "but with this little difference, that +in chess you may think over each move as long as you please and are +not limited for time, and with this difference too, that a knight is +always stronger than a pawn, and two pawns are always stronger than +one, while in war a battalion is sometimes stronger than a division +and sometimes weaker than a company. The relative strength of bodies +of troops can never be known to anyone. Believe me," he went on, "if +things depended on arrangements made by the staff, I should be there +making arrangements, but instead of that I have the honor to serve +here in the regiment with these gentlemen, and I consider that on us +tomorrow's battle will depend and not on those others.... Success +never depends, and never will depend, on position, or equipment, or +even on numbers, and least of all on position." + +"But on what then?" + +"On the feeling that is in me and in him," he pointed to Timokhin, +"and in each soldier." + +Prince Andrew glanced at Timokhin, who looked at his commander in +alarm and bewilderment. In contrast to his former reticent taciturnity +Prince Andrew now seemed excited. He could apparently not refrain from +expressing the thoughts that had suddenly occurred to him. + +"A battle is won by those who firmly resolve to win it! Why did we +lose the battle at Austerlitz? The French losses were almost equal +to ours, but very early we said to ourselves that we were losing the +battle, and we did lose it. And we said so because we had nothing to +fight for there, we wanted to get away from the battlefield as soon as +we could. 'We've lost, so let us run,' and we ran. If we had not +said that till the evening, heaven knows what might not have happened. +But tomorrow we shan't say it! You talk about our position, the left +flank weak and the right flank too extended," he went on. "That's +all nonsense, there's nothing of the kind. But what awaits us +tomorrow? A hundred million most diverse chances which will be decided +on the instant by the fact that our men or theirs run or do not run, +and that this man or that man is killed, but all that is being done at +present is only play. The fact is that those men with whom you have +ridden round the position not only do not help matters, but hinder. +They are only concerned with their own petty interests." + +"At such a moment?" said Pierre reproachfully. + +"At such a moment!" Prince Andrew repeated. "To them it is only a +moment affording opportunities to undermine a rival and obtain an +extra cross or ribbon. For me tomorrow means this: a Russian army of a +hundred thousand and a French army of a hundred thousand have met to +fight, and the thing is that these two hundred thousand men will fight +and the side that fights more fiercely and spares itself least will +win. And if you like I will tell you that whatever happens and +whatever muddles those at the top may make, we shall win tomorrow's +battle. Tomorrow, happen what may, we shall win!" + +"There now, your excellency! That's the truth, the real truth," said +Timokhin. "Who would spare himself now? The soldiers in my +battalion, believe me, wouldn't drink their vodka! 'It's not the day +for that!' they say." + +All were silent. The officers rose. Prince Andrew went out of the +shed with them, giving final orders to the adjutant. After they had +gone Pierre approached Prince Andrew and was about to start a +conversation when they heard the clatter of three horses' hoofs on the +road not far from the shed, and looking in that direction Prince +Andrew recognized Wolzogen and Clausewitz accompanied by a Cossack. +They rode close by continuing to converse, and Prince Andrew +involuntarily heard these words: + +"Der Krieg muss in Raum verlegt werden. Der Ansicht kann ich nicht +genug Preis geben,"* said one of them. + + +*"The war must be extended widely. I cannot sufficiently commend +that view." + + +"Oh, ja," said the other, "der Zweck ist nur den Feind zu schwachen, +so kann man gewiss nicht den Verlust der Privat-Personen in Achtung +nehmen."* + + +*"Oh, yes, the only aim is to weaken the enemy, so of course one +cannot take into account the loss of private individuals." + + +"Oh, no," agreed the other. + +"Extend widely!" said Prince Andrew with an angry snort, when they +had ridden past. "In that 'extend' were my father, son, and sister, at +Bald Hills. That's all the same to him! That's what I was saying to +you--those German gentlemen won't win the battle tomorrow but will +only make all the mess they can, because they have nothing in their +German heads but theories not worth an empty eggshell and haven't in +their hearts the one thing needed tomorrow--that which Timokhin has. +They have yielded up all Europe to him, and have now come to teach us. +Fine teachers!" and again his voice grew shrill. + +"So you think we shall win tomorrow's battle?" asked Pierre. + +"Yes, yes," answered Prince Andrew absently. "One thing I would do +if I had the power," he began again, "I would not take prisoners. +Why take prisoners? It's chivalry! The French have destroyed my home +and are on their way to destroy Moscow, they have outraged and are +outraging me every moment. They are my enemies. In my opinion they are +all criminals. And so thinks Timokhin and the whole army. They +should be executed! Since they are my foes they cannot be my +friends, whatever may have been said at Tilsit." + +"Yes, yes," muttered Pierre, looking with shining eyes at Prince +Andrew. "I quite agree with you!" + +The question that had perturbed Pierre on the Mozhaysk hill and +all that day now seemed to him quite clear and completely solved. He +now understood the whole meaning and importance of this war and of the +impending battle. All he had seen that day, all the significant and +stern expressions on the faces he had seen in passing, were lit up for +him by a new light. He understood that latent heat (as they say in +physics) of patriotism which was present in all these men he had seen, +and this explained to him why they all prepared for death calmly, +and as it were lightheartedly. + +"Not take prisoners," Prince Andrew continued: "That by itself would +quite change the whole war and make it less cruel. As it is we have +played at war--that's what's vile! We play at magnanimity and all that +stuff. Such magnanimity and sensibility are like the magnanimity and +sensibility of a lady who faints when she sees a calf being killed: +she is so kindhearted that she can't look at blood, but enjoys eating +the calf served up with sauce. They talk to us of the rules of war, of +chivalry, of flags of truce, of mercy to the unfortunate and so on. +It's all rubbish! I saw chivalry and flags of truce in 1805; they +humbugged us and we humbugged them. They plunder other people's +houses, issue false paper money, and worst of all they kill my +children and my father, and then talk of rules of war and +magnanimity to foes! Take no prisoners, but kill and be killed! He who +has come to this as I have through the same sufferings..." + +Prince Andrew, who had thought it was all the same to him whether or +not Moscow was taken as Smolensk had been, was suddenly checked in his +speech by an unexpected cramp in his throat. He paced up and down a +few times in silence, but his eyes glittered feverishly and his lips +quivered as he began speaking. + +"If there was none of this magnanimity in war, we should go to war +only when it was worth while going to certain death, as now. Then +there would not be war because Paul Ivanovich had offended Michael +Ivanovich. And when there was a war, like this one, it would be war! +And then the determination of the troops would be quite different. +Then all these Westphalians and Hessians whom Napoleon is leading +would not follow him into Russia, and we should not go to fight in +Austria and Prussia without knowing why. War is not courtesy but the +most horrible thing in life; and we ought to understand that and not +play at war. We ought to accept this terrible necessity sternly and +seriously. It all lies in that: get rid of falsehood and let war be +war and not a game. As it is now, war is the favorite pastime of the +idle and frivolous. The military calling is the most highly honored. + +"But what is war? What is needed for success in warfare? What are +the habits of the military? The aim of war is murder; the methods of +war are spying, treachery, and their encouragement, the ruin of a +country's inhabitants, robbing them or stealing to provision the army, +and fraud and falsehood termed military craft. The habits of the +military class are the absence of freedom, that is, discipline, +idleness, ignorance, cruelty, debauchery, and drunkenness. And in +spite of all this it is the highest class, respected by everyone. +All the kings, except the Chinese, wear military uniforms, and he +who kills most people receives the highest rewards. + +"They meet, as we shall meet tomorrow, to murder one another; they +kill and maim tens of thousands, and then have thanksgiving services +for having killed so many people (they even exaggerate the number), +and they announce a victory, supposing that the more people they +have killed the greater their achievement. How does God above look +at them and hear them?" exclaimed Prince Andrew in a shrill, +piercing voice. "Ah, my friend, it has of late become hard for me to +live. I see that I have begun to understand too much. And it doesn't +do for man to taste of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.... +Ah, well, it's not for long!" he added. + +"However, you're sleepy, and it's time for me to sleep. Go back to +Gorki!" said Prince Andrew suddenly. + +"Oh no!" Pierre replied, looking at Prince Andrew with frightened, +compassionate eyes. + +"Go, go! Before a battle one must have one's sleep out," repeated +Prince Andrew. + +He came quickly up to Pierre and embraced and kissed him. +"Good-by, be off!" he shouted. "Whether we meet again or not..." +and turning away hurriedly he entered the shed. + +It was already dark, and Pierre could not make out whether the +expression of Prince Andrew's face was angry or tender. + +For some time he stood in silence considering whether he should +follow him or go away. "No, he does not want it!" Pierre concluded. +"And I know that this is our last meeting!" He sighed deeply and +rode back to Gorki. + +On re-entering the shed Prince Andrew lay down on a rug, but he +could not sleep. + +He closed his eyes. One picture succeeded another in his +imagination. On one of them he dwelt long and joyfully. He vividly +recalled an evening in Petersburg. Natasha with animated and excited +face was telling him how she had gone to look for mushrooms the +previous summer and had lost her way in the big forest. She +incoherently described the depths of the forest, her feelings, and a +talk with a beekeeper she met, and constantly interrupted her story to +say: "No, I can't! I'm not telling it right; no, you don't +understand," though he encouraged her by saying that he did +understand, and he really had understood all she wanted to say. But +Natasha was not satisfied with her own words: she felt that they did +not convey the passionately poetic feeling she had experienced that +day and wished to convey. "He was such a delightful old man, and it +was so dark in the forest... and he had such kind... No, I can't +describe it," she had said, flushed and excited. Prince Andrew +smiled now the same happy smile as then when he had looked into her +eyes. "I understood her," he thought. "I not only understood her, +but it was just that inner, spiritual force, that sincerity, that +frankness of soul--that very soul of hers which seemed to be +fettered by her body--it was that soul I loved in her... loved so +strongly and happily..." and suddenly he remembered how his love had +ended. "He did not need anything of that kind. He neither saw nor +understood anything of the sort. He only saw in her a pretty and fresh +young girl, with whom he did not deign to unite his fate. And I?... +and he is still alive and gay!" + +Prince Andrew jumped up as if someone had burned him, and again +began pacing up and down in front of the shed. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +On August 25, the eve of the battle of Borodino, M. de Beausset, +prefect of the French Emperor's palace, arrived at Napoleon's quarters +at Valuevo with Colonel Fabvier, the former from Paris and the +latter from Madrid. + +Donning his court uniform, M. de Beausset ordered a box he had +brought for the Emperor to be carried before him and entered the first +compartment of Napoleon's tent, where he began opening the box while +conversing with Napoleon's aides-de-camp who surrounded him. + +Fabvier, not entering the tent, remained at the entrance talking +to some generals of his acquaintance. + +The Emperor Napoleon had not yet left his bedroom and was +finishing his toilet. Slightly snorting and grunting, he presented now +his back and now his plump hairy chest to the brush with which his +valet was rubbing him down. Another valet, with his finger over the +mouth of a bottle, was sprinkling Eau de Cologne on the Emperor's +pampered body with an expression which seemed to say that he alone +knew where and how much Eau de Cologne should be sprinkled. Napoleon's +short hair was wet and matted on the forehead, but his face, though +puffy and yellow, expressed physical satisfaction. "Go on, harder, +go on!" he muttered to the valet who was rubbing him, slightly +twitching and grunting. An aide-de-camp, who had entered the bedroom +to report to the Emperor the number of prisoners taken in +yesterday's action, was standing by the door after delivering his +message, awaiting permission to withdraw. Napoleon, frowning, looked +at him from under his brows. + +"No prisoners!" said he, repeating the aide-de-camp's words. "They +are forcing us to exterminate them. So much the worse for the +Russian army.... Go on... harder, harder!" he muttered, hunching his +back and presenting his fat shoulders. + +"All right. Let Monsieur de Beausset enter, and Fabvier too," he +said, nodding to the aide-de-camp. + +"Yes, sire," and the aide-de-camp disappeared through the door of +the tent. + +Two valets rapidly dressed His Majesty, and wearing the blue uniform +of the Guards he went with firm quick steps to the reception room. + +De Beausset's hands meanwhile were busily engaged arranging the +present he had brought from the Empress, on two chairs directly in +front of the entrance. But Napoleon had dressed and come out with such +unexpected rapidity that he had not time to finish arranging the +surprise. + +Napoleon noticed at once what they were about and guessed that +they were not ready. He did not wish to deprive them of the pleasure +of giving him a surprise, so he pretended not to see de Beausset and +called Fabvier to him, listening silently and with a stern frown to +what Fabvier told him of the heroism and devotion of his troops +fighting at Salamanca, at the other end of Europe, with but one +thought--to be worthy of their Emperor--and but one fear--to fail to +please him. The result of that battle had been deplorable. Napoleon +made ironic remarks during Fabvier's account, as if he had not +expected that matters could go otherwise in his absence. + +"I must make up for that in Moscow," said Napoleon. "I'll see you +later," he added, and summoned de Beausset, who by that time had +prepared the surprise, having placed something on the chairs and +covered it with a cloth. + +De Beausset bowed low, with that courtly French bow which only the +old retainers of the Bourbons knew how to make, and approached him, +presenting an envelope. + +Napoleon turned to him gaily and pulled his ear. + +"You have hurried here. I am very glad. Well, what is Paris saying?" +he asked, suddenly changing his former stern expression for a most +cordial tone. + +"Sire, all Paris regrets your absence," replied de Beausset as was +proper. + +But though Napoleon knew that de Beausset had to say something of +this kind, and though in his lucid moments he knew it was untrue, he +was pleased to hear it from him. Again he honored him by touching +his ear. + +"I am very sorry to have made you travel so far," said he. + +"Sire, I expected nothing less than to find you at the gates of +Moscow," replied de Beausset. + +Napoleon smiled and, lifting his head absent-mindedly, glanced to the +right. An aide-de-camp approached with gliding steps and offered him a +gold snuffbox, which he took. + +"Yes, it has happened luckily for you," he said, raising the open +snuffbox to his nose. "You are fond of travel, and in three days you +will see Moscow. You surely did not expect to see that Asiatic +capital. You will have a pleasant journey." + +De Beausset bowed gratefully at this regard for his taste for travel +(of which he had not till then been aware). + +"Ha, what's this?" asked Napoleon, noticing that all the courtiers +were looking at something concealed under a cloth. + +With courtly adroitness de Beausset half turned and without +turning his back to the Emperor retired two steps, twitching off the +cloth at the same time, and said: + +"A present to Your Majesty from the Empress." + +It was a portrait, painted in bright colors by Gerard, of the son +borne to Napoleon by the daughter of the Emperor of Austria, the boy +whom for some reason everyone called "The King of Rome." + +A very pretty curly-headed boy with a look of the Christ in the +Sistine Madonna was depicted playing at stick and ball. The ball +represented the terrestrial globe and the stick in his other hand a +scepter. + +Though it was not clear what the artist meant to express by +depicting the so-called King of Rome spiking the earth with a stick, +the allegory apparently seemed to Napoleon, as it had done to all +who had seen it in Paris, quite clear and very pleasing. + +"The King of Rome!" he said, pointing to the portrait with a +graceful gesture. "Admirable!" + +With the natural capacity of an Italian for changing the +expression of his face at will, he drew nearer to the portrait and +assumed a look of pensive tenderness. He felt that what he now said +and did would be historical, and it seemed to him that it would now be +best for him--whose grandeur enabled his son to play stick and ball +with the terrestrial globe--to show, in contrast to that grandeur, the +simplest paternal tenderness. His eyes grew dim, he moved forward, +glanced round at a chair (which seemed to place itself under him), and +sat down on it before the portrait. At a single gesture from him +everyone went out on tiptoe, leaving the great man to himself and +his emotion. + +Having sat still for a while he touched--himself not knowing why--the +thick spot of paint representing the highest light in the portrait, +rose, and recalled de Beausset and the officer on duty. He ordered the +portrait to be carried outside his tent, that the Old Guard, stationed +round it, might not be deprived of the pleasure of seeing the King of +Rome, the son and heir of their adored monarch. + +And while he was doing M. de Beausset the honor of breakfasting with +him, they heard, as Napoleon had anticipated, the rapturous cries of +the officers and men of the Old Guard who had run up to see the +portrait. + +"Vive l'Empereur! Vive le roi de Rome! Vive l'Empereur!" came +those ecstatic cries. + +After breakfast Napoleon in de Beausset's presence dictated his +order of the day to the army. + +"Short and energetic!" he remarked when he had read over the +proclamation which he had dictated straight off without corrections. +It ran: + + +Soldiers! This is the battle you have so longed for. Victory depends +on you. It is essential for us; it will give us all we need: +comfortable quarters and a speedy return to our country. Behave as you +did at Austerlitz, Friedland, Vitebsk, and Smolensk. Let our +remotest posterity recall your achievements this day with pride. Let +it be said of each of you: "He was in the great battle before Moscow!" + + +"Before Moscow!" repeated Napoleon, and inviting M. de Beausset, who +was so fond of travel, to accompany him on his ride, he went out of +the tent to where the horses stood saddled. + +"Your Majesty is too kind!" replied de Beausset to the invitation to +accompany the Emperor; he wanted to sleep, did not know how to ride +and was afraid of doing so. + +But Napoleon nodded to the traveler, and de Beausset had to mount. +When Napoleon came out of the tent the shouting of the Guards before +his son's portrait grew still louder. Napoleon frowned. + +"Take him away!" he said, pointing with a gracefully majestic +gesture to the portrait. "It is too soon for him to see a field of +battle." + +De Beausset closed his eyes, bowed his head, and sighed deeply, to +indicate how profoundly he valued and comprehended the Emperor's +words. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +On the twenty-fifth of August, so his historians tell us, Napoleon +spent the whole day on horseback inspecting the locality, +considering plans submitted to him by his marshals, and personally +giving commands to his generals. + +The original line of the Russian forces along the river Kolocha +had been dislocated by the capture of the Shevardino Redoubt on the +twenty-fourth, and part of the line--the left flank--had been drawn +back. That part of the line was not entrenched and in front of it +the ground was more open and level than elsewhere. It was evident to +anyone, military or not, that it was here the French should attack. It +would seem that not much consideration was needed to reach this +conclusion, nor any particular care or trouble on the part of the +Emperor and his marshals, nor was there any need of that special and +supreme quality called genius that people are so apt to ascribe to +Napoleon; yet the historians who described the event later and the men +who then surrounded Napoleon, and he himself, thought otherwise. + +Napoleon rode over the plain and surveyed the locality with a +profound air and in silence, nodded with approval or shook his head +dubiously, and without communicating to the generals around him the +profound course of ideas which guided his decisions merely gave them +his final conclusions in the form of commands. Having listened to a +suggestion from Davout, who was now called Prince d'Eckmuhl, to turn +the Russian left wing, Napoleon said it should not be done, without +explaining why not. To a proposal made by General Campan (who was to +attack the fleches) to lead his division through the woods, Napoleon +agreed, though the so-called Duke of Elchingen (Ney) ventured to +remark that a movement through the woods was dangerous and might +disorder the division. + +Having inspected the country opposite the Shevardino Redoubt, +Napoleon pondered a little in silence and then indicated the spots +where two batteries should be set up by the morrow to act against +the Russian entrenchments, and the places where, in line with them, +the field artillery should be placed. + +After giving these and other commands he returned to his tent, and +the dispositions for the battle were written down from his dictation. + +These dispositions, of which the French historians write with +enthusiasm and other historians with profound respect, were as +follows: + + +At dawn the two new batteries established during the night on the +plain occupied by the Prince d'Eckmuhl will open fire on the +opposing batteries of the enemy. + +At the same time the commander of the artillery of the 1st Corps, +General Pernetti, with thirty cannon of Campan's division and all +the howitzers of Dessaix's and Friant's divisions, will move +forward, open fire, and overwhelm with shellfire the enemy's +battery, against which will operate: + + 24 guns of the artillery of the Guards + 30 guns of Campan's division + +and 8 guns of Friant's and Dessaix's divisions + -- + +in all 62 guns. + + +The commander of the artillery of the 3rd Corps, General Fouche, +will place the howitzers of the 3rd and 8th Corps, sixteen in all, +on the flanks of the battery that is to bombard the entrenchment on +the left, which will have forty guns in all directed against it. + +General Sorbier must be ready at the first order to advance with all +the howitzers of the Guard's artillery against either one or other +of the entrenchments. + +During the cannonade Prince Poniatowski is to advance through the +wood on the village and turn the enemy's position. + +General Campan will move through the wood to seize the first +fortification. + +After the advance has begun in this manner, orders will be given +in accordance with the enemy's movements. + +The cannonade on the left flank will begin as soon as the guns of +the right wing are heard. The sharpshooters of Morand's division and +of the vice-King's division will open a heavy fire on seeing the +attack commence on the right wing. + +The vice-King will occupy the village and cross by its three +bridges, advancing to the same heights as Morand's and Gibrard's +divisions, which under his leadership will be directed against the +redoubt and come into line with the rest of the forces. + +All this must be done in good order (le tout se fera avec ordre et +methode) as far as possible retaining troops in reserve. + The Imperial Camp near Mozhaysk, + September, 6, 1812. + + +These dispositions, which are very obscure and confused if one +allows oneself to regard the arrangements without religious awe of his +genius, related to Napoleon's orders to deal with four points--four +different orders. Not one of these was, or could be, carried out. + +In the disposition it is said first that the batteries placed on the +spot chosen by Napoleon, with the guns of Pernetti and Fouche; which +were to come in line with them, 102 guns in all, were to open fire and +shower shells on the Russian fleches and redoubts. This could not be +done, as from the spots selected by Napoleon the projectiles did not +carry to the Russian works, and those 102 guns shot into the air until +the nearest commander, contrary to Napoleon's instructions, moved them +forward. + +The second order was that Poniatowski, moving to the village through +the wood, should turn the Russian left flank. This could not be done +and was not done, because Poniatowski, advancing on the village +through the wood, met Tuchkov there barring his way, and could not and +did not turn the Russian position. + +The third order was: General Campan will move through the wood to +seize the first fortification. General Campan's division did not seize +the first fortification but was driven back, for on emerging from +the wood it had to reform under grapeshot, of which Napoleon was +unaware. + +The fourth order was: The vice-King will occupy the village +(Borodino) and cross by its three bridges, advancing to the same +heights as Morand's and Gdrard's divisions (for whose movements no +directions are given), which under his leadership will be directed +against the redoubt and come into line with the rest of the forces. + +As far as one can make out, not so much from this unintelligible +sentence as from the attempts the vice-King made to execute the orders +given him, he was to advance from the left through Borodino to the +redoubt while the divisions of Morand and Gerard were to advance +simultaneously from the front. + +All this, like the other parts of the disposition, was not and could +not be executed. After passing through Borodino the vice-King was +driven back to the Kolocha and could get no farther; while the +divisions of Morand and Gerard did not take the redoubt but were +driven back, and the redoubt was only taken at the end of the battle +by the cavalry (a thing probably unforeseen and not heard of by +Napoleon). So not one of the orders in the disposition was, or could +be, executed. But in the disposition it is said that, after the +fight has commenced in this manner, orders will be given in accordance +with the enemy's movements, and so it might be supposed that all +necessary arrangements would be made by Napoleon during the battle. +But this was not and could not be done, for during the whole battle +Napoleon was so far away that, as appeared later, he could not know +the course of the battle and not one of his orders during the fight +could be executed. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Many historians say that the French did not win the battle of +Borodino because Napoleon had a cold, and that if he had not had a +cold the orders he gave before and during the battle would have been +still more full of genius and Russia would have been lost and the face +of the world have been changed. To historians who believe that +Russia was shaped by the will of one man--Peter the Great--and that +France from a republic became an empire and French armies went to +Russia at the will of one man--Napoleon--to say that Russia remained a +power because Napoleon had a bad cold on the twenty-fourth of August +may seem logical and convincing. + +If it had depended on Napoleon's will to fight or not to fight the +battle of Borodino, and if this or that other arrangement depended +on his will, then evidently a cold affecting the manifestation of +his will might have saved Russia, and consequently the valet who +omitted to bring Napoleon his waterproof boots on the twenty-fourth +would have been the savior of Russia. Along that line of thought +such a deduction is indubitable, as indubitable as the deduction +Voltaire made in jest (without knowing what he was jesting at) when he +saw that the Massacre of St. Bartholomew was due to Charles IX's +stomach being deranged. But to men who do not admit that Russia was +formed by the will of one man, Peter I, or that the French Empire +was formed and the war with Russia begun by the will of one man, +Napoleon, that argument seems not merely untrue and irrational, but +contrary to all human reality. To the question of what causes historic +events another answer presents itself, namely, that the course of +human events is predetermined from on high--depends on the coincidence +of the wills of all who take part in the events, and that a Napoleon's +influence on the course of these events is purely external and +fictitious. + +Strange as at first glance it may seem to suppose that the +Massacre of St. Bartholomew was not due to Charles IX's will, though +he gave the order for it and thought it was done as a result of that +order; and strange as it may seem to suppose that the slaughter of +eighty thousand men at Borodino was not due to Napoleon's will, though +he ordered the commencement and conduct of the battle and thought it +was done because he ordered it; strange as these suppositions +appear, yet human dignity--which tells me that each of us is, if not +more at least not less a man than the great Napoleon--demands the +acceptance of that solution of the question, and historic +investigation abundantly confirms it. + +At the battle of Borodino Napoleon shot at no one and killed no one. +That was all done by the soldiers. Therefore it was not he who +killed people. + +The French soldiers went to kill and be killed at the battle of +Borodino not because of Napoleon's orders but by their own volition. +The whole army--French, Italian, German, Polish, and Dutch--hungry, +ragged, and weary of the campaign, felt at the sight of an army +blocking their road to Moscow that the wine was drawn and must be +drunk. Had Napoleon then forbidden them to fight the Russians, they +would have killed him and have proceeded to fight the Russians because +it was inevitable. + +When they heard Napoleon's proclamation offering them, as +compensation for mutilation and death, the words of posterity about +their having been in the battle before Moscow, they cried "Vive +l'Empereur!" just as they had cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at the sight of +the portrait of the boy piercing the terrestrial globe with a toy +stick, and just as they would have cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at any +nonsense that might be told them. There was nothing left for them to +do but cry "Vive l'Empereur!" and go to fight, in order to get food +and rest as conquerors in Moscow. So it was not because of +Napoleon's commands that they killed their fellow men. + +And it was not Napoleon who directed the course of the battle, for +none of his orders were executed and during the battle he did not know +what was going on before him. So the way in which these people +killed one another was not decided by Napoleon's will but occurred +independently of him, in accord with the will of hundreds of thousands +of people who took part in the common action. It only seemed to +Napoleon that it all took place by his will. And so the question +whether he had or had not a cold has no more historic interest than +the cold of the least of the transport soldiers. + +Moreover, the assertion made by various writers that his cold was +the cause of his dispositions not being as well planned as on former +occasions, and of his orders during the battle not being as good as +previously, is quite baseless, which again shows that Napoleon's +cold on the twenty-sixth of August was unimportant. + +The dispositions cited above are not at all worse, but are even +better, than previous dispositions by which he had won victories. +His pseudo-orders during the battle were also no worse than +formerly, but much the same as usual. These dispositions and orders +only seem worse than previous ones because the battle of Borodino +was the first Napoleon did not win. The profoundest and most excellent +dispositions and orders seem very bad, and every learned militarist +criticizes them with looks of importance, when they relate to a +battle that has been lost, and the very worst dispositions and +orders seem very good, and serious people fill whole volumes to +demonstrate their merits, when they relate to a battle that has been +won. + +The dispositions drawn up by Weyrother for the battle of +Austerlitz were a model of perfection for that kind of composition, +but still they were criticized--criticized for their very +perfection, for their excessive minuteness. + +Napoleon at the battle of Borodino fulfilled his office as +representative of authority as well as, and even better than, at other +battles. He did nothing harmful to the progress of the battle; he +inclined to the most reasonable opinions, he made no confusion, did +not contradict himself, did not get frightened or run away from the +field of battle, but with his great tact and military experience +carried out his role of appearing to command, calmly and with dignity. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +On returning from a second inspection of the lines, Napoleon +remarked: + +"The chessmen are set up, the game will begin tomorrow!" + +Having ordered punch and summoned de Beausset, he began to talk to him +about Paris and about some changes he meant to make in the Empress' +household, surprising the prefect by his memory of minute details +relating to the court. + +He showed an interest in trifles, joked about de Beausset's love +of travel, and chatted carelessly, as a famous, self-confident surgeon +who knows his job does when turning up his sleeves and putting on +his apron while a patient is being strapped to the operating table. +"The matter is in my hands and is clear and definite in my head. +When the time comes to set to work I shall do it as no one else +could, but now I can jest, and the more I jest and the calmer I am the +more tranquil and confident you ought to be, and the more amazed at my +genius." + +Having finished his second glass of punch, Napoleon went to rest +before the serious business which, he considered, awaited him next +day. He was so much interested in that task that he was unable to +sleep, and in spite of his cold which had grown worse from the +dampness of the evening, he went into the large division of the tent +at three o'clock in the morning, loudly blowing his nose. He asked +whether the Russians had not withdrawn, and was told that the +enemy's fires were still in the same places. He nodded approval. + +The adjutant in attendance came into the tent. + +"Well, Rapp, do you think we shall do good business today?" Napoleon +asked him. + +"Without doubt, sire," replied Rapp. + +Napoleon looked at him. + +"Do you remember, sire, what you did me the honor to say at +Smolensk?" continued Rapp. "The wine is drawn and must be drunk." + +Napoleon frowned and sat silent for a long time leaning his head +on his hand. + +"This poor army!" he suddenly remarked. "It has diminished greatly +since Smolensk. Fortune is frankly a courtesan, Rapp. I have always +said so and I am beginning to experience it. But the Guards, Rapp, the +Guards are intact?" he remarked interrogatively. + +"Yes, sire," replied Rapp. + +Napoleon took a lozenge, put it in his mouth, and glanced at his +watch. He was not sleepy and it was still not nearly morning. It was +impossible to give further orders for the sake of killing time, for +the orders had all been given and were now being executed. + +"Have the biscuits and rice been served out to the regiments of +the Guards?" asked Napoleon sternly. + +"Yes, sire." + +"The rice too?" + +Rapp replied that he had given the Emperor's order about the rice, +but Napoleon shook his head in dissatisfaction as if not believing +that his order had been executed. An attendant came in with punch. +Napoleon ordered another glass to be brought for Rapp, and silently +sipped his own. + +"I have neither taste nor smell," he remarked, sniffing at his glass. +"This cold is tiresome. They talk about medicine--what is the good of +medicine when it can't cure a cold! Corvisart gave me these lozenges +but they don't help at all. What can doctors cure? One can't cure +anything. Our body is a machine for living. It is organized for that, +it is its nature. Let life go on in it unhindered and let it defend +itself, it will do more than if you paralyze it by encumbering it with +remedies. Our body is like a perfect watch that should go for a +certain time; the watchmaker cannot open it, he can only adjust it by +fumbling, and that blindfold.... Yes, our body is just a machine for +living, that is all." + +And having entered on the path of definition, of which he was +fond, Napoleon suddenly and unexpectedly gave a new one. + +"Do you know, Rapp, what military art is?" asked he. "It is the +art of being stronger than the enemy at a given moment. That's all." + +Rapp made no reply. + +"Tomorrow we shall have to deal with Kutuzov!" said Napoleon. "We +shall see! Do you remember at Braunau he commanded an army for three +weeks and did not once mount a horse to inspect his entrenchments.... +We shall see!" + +He looked at his watch. It was still only four o'clock. He did not +feel sleepy. The punch was finished and there was still nothing to do. +He rose, walked to and fro, put on a warm overcoat and a hat, and went +out of the tent. The night was dark and damp, a scarcely perceptible +moisture was descending from above. Near by, the campfires were +dimly burning among the French Guards, and in the distance those of +the Russian line shone through the smoke. The weather was calm, and +the rustle and tramp of the French troops already beginning to move to +take up their positions were clearly audible. + +Napoleon walked about in front of his tent, looked at the fires +and listened to these sounds, and as he was passing a tall guardsman +in a shaggy cap, who was standing sentinel before his tent and had +drawn himself up like a black pillar at sight of the Emperor, Napoleon +stopped in front of him. + +"What year did you enter the service?" he asked with that +affectation of military bluntness and geniality with which he always +addressed the soldiers. + +The man answered the question. + +"Ah! One of the old ones! Has your regiment had its rice?" + +"It has, Your Majesty." + +Napoleon nodded and walked away. + + +At half-past five Napoleon rode to the village of Shevardino. + +It was growing light, the sky was clearing, only a single cloud +lay in the east. The abandoned campfires were burning themselves out +in the faint morning light. + +On the right a single deep report of a cannon resounded and died +away in the prevailing silence. Some minutes passed. A second and a +third report shook the air, then a fourth and a fifth boomed +solemnly near by on the right. + +The first shots had not yet ceased to reverberate before others rang +out and yet more were heard mingling with and overtaking one another. + +Napoleon with his suite rode up to the Shevardino Redoubt where he +dismounted. The game had begun. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +On returning to Gorki after having seen Prince Andrew, Pierre +ordered his groom to get the horses ready and to call him early in the +morning, and then immediately fell asleep behind a partition in a +corner Boris had given up to him. + +Before he was thoroughly awake next morning everybody had already +left the hut. The panes were rattling in the little windows and his +groom was shaking him. + +"Your excellency! Your excellency! Your excellency!" he kept +repeating pertinaciously while he shook Pierre by the shoulder without +looking at him, having apparently lost hope of getting him to wake up. + +"What? Has it begun? Is it time?" Pierre asked, waking up. + +"Hear the firing," said the groom, a discharged soldier. "All the +gentlemen have gone out, and his Serene Highness himself rode past +long ago." + +Pierre dressed hastily and ran out to the porch. Outside all was +bright, fresh, dewy, and cheerful. The sun, just bursting forth from +behind a cloud that had concealed it, was shining, with rays still +half broken by the clouds, over the roofs of the street opposite, on +the dew-besprinkled dust of the road, on the walls of the houses, on +the windows, the fence, and on Pierre's horses standing before the +hut. The roar of guns sounded more distinct outside. An adjutant +accompanied by a Cossack passed by at a sharp trot. + +"It's time, Count; it's time!" cried the adjutant. + +Telling the groom to follow him with the horses, Pierre went down +the street to the knoll from which he had looked at the field of +battle the day before. A crowd of military men was assembled there, +members of the staff could be heard conversing in French, and +Kutuzov's gray head in a white cap with a red band was visible, his +gray nape sunk between his shoulders. He was looking through a field +glass down the highroad before him. + +Mounting the steps to the knoll Pierre looked at the scene before +him, spellbound by beauty. It was the same panorama he had admired +from that spot the day before, but now the whole place was full of +troops and covered by smoke clouds from the guns, and the slanting +rays of the bright sun, rising slightly to the left behind Pierre, +cast upon it through the clear morning air penetrating streaks of +rosy, golden tinted light and long dark shadows. The forest at the +farthest extremity of the panorama seemed carved in some precious +stone of a yellowish-green color; its undulating outline was +silhouetted against the horizon and was pierced beyond Valuevo by +the Smolensk highroad crowded with troops. Nearer at hand glittered +golden cornfields interspersed with copses. There were troops to be +seen everywhere, in front and to the right and left. All this was +vivid, majestic, and unexpected; but what impressed Pierre most of all +was the view of the battlefield itself, of Borodino and the hollows on +both sides of the Kolocha. + +Above the Kolocha, in Borodino and on both sides of it, especially +to the left where the Voyna flowing between its marshy banks falls +into the Kolocha, a mist had spread which seemed to melt, to dissolve, +and to become translucent when the brilliant sun appeared and +magically colored and outlined everything. The smoke of the guns +mingled with this mist, and over the whole expanse and through that +mist the rays of the morning sun were reflected, flashing back like +lightning from the water, from the dew, and from the bayonets of the +troops crowded together by the riverbanks and in Borodino. A white +church could be seen through the mist, and here and there the roofs of +huts in Borodino as well as dense masses of soldiers, or green +ammunition chests and ordnance. And all this moved, or seemed to move, +as the smoke and mist spread out over the whole space. Just as in +the mist-enveloped hollow near Borodino, so along the entire line +outside and above it and especially in the woods and fields to the +left, in the valleys and on the summits of the high ground, clouds +of powder smoke seemed continually to spring up out of nothing, now +singly, now several at a time, some translucent, others dense, +which, swelling, growing, rolling, and blending, extended over the +whole expanse. + +These puffs of smoke and (strange to say) the sound of +the firing produced the chief beauty of the spectacle. + +"Puff!"--suddenly a round compact cloud of smoke was seen merging +from violet into gray and milky white, and "boom!" came the report a +second later. + +"Puff! puff!"--and two clouds arose pushing one another and blending +together; and "boom, boom!" came the sounds confirming what the eye +had seen. + +Pierre glanced round at the first cloud, which he had seen as a +round compact ball, and in its place already were balloons of smoke +floating to one side, and--"puff" (with a pause)--"puff, puff!" +three and then four more appeared and then from each, with the same +interval--"boom--boom, boom!" came the fine, firm, precise sounds in +reply. It seemed as if those smoke clouds sometimes ran and +sometimes stood still while woods, fields, and glittering bayonets ran +past them. From the left, over fields and bushes, those large balls of +smoke were continually appearing followed by their solemn reports, +while nearer still, in the hollows and woods, there burst from the +muskets small cloudlets that had no time to become balls, but had +their little echoes in just the same way. "Trakh-ta-ta-takh!" came the +frequent crackle of musketry, but it was irregular and feeble in +comparison with the reports of the cannon. + +Pierre wished to be there with that smoke, those shining bayonets, +that movement, and those sounds. He turned to look at Kutuzov and +his suite, to compare his impressions with those of others. They +were all looking at the field of battle as he was, and, as it seemed +to him, with the same feelings. All their faces were now shining +with that latent warmth of feeling Pierre had noticed the day before +and had fully understood after his talk with Prince Andrew. + +"Go, my dear fellow, go... and Christ be with you!" Kutuzov was +saying to a general who stood beside him, not taking his eye from +the battlefield. + +Having received this order the general passed by Pierre on his way +down the knoll. + +"To the crossing!" said the general coldly and sternly in reply to +one of the staff who asked where he was going. + +"I'll go there too, I too!" thought Pierre, and followed the +general. + +The general mounted a horse a Cossack had brought him. Pierre went +to his groom who was holding his horses and, asking which was the +quietest, clambered onto it, seized it by the mane, and turning out +his toes pressed his heels against its sides and, feeling that his +spectacles were slipping off but unable to let go of the mane and +reins, he galloped after the general, causing the staff officers to +smile as they watched him from the knoll. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Having descended the hill the general after whom Pierre was galloping +turned sharply to the left, and Pierre, losing sight of him, galloped +in among some ranks of infantry marching ahead of him. He tried to +pass either in front of them or to the right or left, but there were +soldiers everywhere, all with the same preoccupied expression and busy +with some unseen but evidently important task. They all gazed with the +same dissatisfied and inquiring expression at this stout man in a +white hat, who for some unknown reason threatened to trample them +under his horse's hoofs. + +"Why ride into the middle of the battalion?" one of them shouted +at him. + +Another prodded his horse with the butt end of a musket, and Pierre, +bending over his saddlebow and hardly able to control his shying +horse, galloped ahead of the soldiers where there was a free space. + +There was a bridge ahead of him, where other soldiers stood +firing. Pierre rode up to them. Without being aware of it he had +come to the bridge across the Kolocha between Gorki and Borodino, +which the French (having occupied Borodino) were attacking in the +first phase of the battle. Pierre saw that there was a bridge in front +of him and that soldiers were doing something on both sides of it +and in the meadow, among the rows of new-mown hay which he had taken +no notice of amid the smoke of the campfires the day before; but +despite the incessant firing going on there he had no idea that this +was the field of battle. He did not notice the sound of the bullets +whistling from every side, or the projectiles that flew over him, +did not see the enemy on the other side of the river, and for a long +time did not notice the killed and wounded, though many fell near him. +He looked about him with a smile which did not leave his face. + +"Why's that fellow in front of the line?" shouted somebody at him +again. + +"To the left!... Keep to the right!" the men shouted to him. + +Pierre went to the right, and unexpectedly encountered one of +Raevski's adjutants whom he knew. The adjutant looked angrily at +him, evidently also intending to shout at him, but on recognizing +him he nodded. + +"How have you got here?" he said, and galloped on. + +Pierre, feeling out of place there, having nothing to do, and afraid +of getting in someone's way again, galloped after the adjutant. + +"What's happening here? May I come with you?" he asked. + +"One moment, one moment!" replied the adjutant, and riding up to a +stout colonel who was standing in the meadow, he gave him some message +and then addressed Pierre. + +"Why have you come here, Count?" he asked with a smile. "Still +inquisitive?" + +"Yes, yes," assented Pierre. + +But the adjutant turned his horse about and rode on. + +"Here it's tolerable," said he, "but with Bagration on the left +flank they're getting it frightfully hot." + +"Really?" said Pierre. "Where is that?" + +"Come along with me to our knoll. We can get a view from there and +in our battery it is still bearable," said the adjutant. "Will you +come?" + +"Yes, I'll come with you," replied Pierre, looking round for his +groom. + +It was only now that he noticed wounded men staggering along or +being carried on stretchers. On that very meadow he had ridden over +the day before, a soldier was lying athwart the rows of scented hay, +with his head thrown awkwardly back and his shako off. + +"Why haven't they carried him away?" Pierre was about to ask, but +seeing the stern expression of the adjutant who was also looking +that way, he checked himself. + +Pierre did not find his groom and rode along the hollow with the +adjutant to Raevski's Redoubt. His horse lagged behind the +adjutant's and jolted him at every step. + +"You don't seem to be used to riding, Count?" remarked the adjutant. + +"No it's not that, but her action seems so jerky," said Pierre in +a puzzled tone. + +"Why... she's wounded!" said the adjutant. "In the off foreleg above +the knee. A bullet, no doubt. I congratulate you, Count, on your +baptism of fire!" + +Having ridden in the smoke past the Sixth Corps, behind the +artillery which had been moved forward and was in action, deafening +them with the noise of firing, they came to a small wood. There it was +cool and quiet, with a scent of autumn. Pierre and the adjutant +dismounted and walked up the hill on foot. + +"Is the general here?" asked the adjutant on reaching the knoll. + +"He was here a minute ago but has just gone that way," someone +told him, pointing to the right. + +The adjutant looked at Pierre as if puzzled what to do with him now. + +"Don't trouble about me," said Pierre. "I'll go up onto the knoll if +I may?" + +"Yes, do. You'll see everything from there and it's less +dangerous, and I'll come for you." + +Pierre went to the battery and the adjutant rode on. They did not +meet again, and only much later did Pierre learn that he lost an arm +that day. + +The knoll to which Pierre ascended was that famous one afterwards +known to the Russians as the Knoll Battery or Raevski's Redoubt, and +to the French as la grande redoute, la fatale redoute, la redoute du +centre, around which tens of thousands fell, and which the French +regarded as the key to the whole position. + +This redoubt consisted of a knoll, on three sides of which +trenches had been dug. Within the entrenchment stood ten guns that +were being fired through openings in the earthwork. + +In line with the knoll on both sides stood other guns which also +fired incessantly. A little behind the guns stood infantry. When +ascending that knoll Pierre had no notion that this spot, on which +small trenches had been dug and from which a few guns were firing, was +the most important point of the battle. + +On the contrary, just because he happened to be there he thought +it one of the least significant parts of the field. + +Having reached the knoll, Pierre sat down at one end of a trench +surrounding the battery and gazed at what was going on around him with +an unconsciously happy smile. Occasionally he rose and walked about +the battery still with that same smile, trying not to obstruct the +soldiers who were loading, hauling the guns, and continually running +past him with bags and charges. The guns of that battery were being +fired continually one after another with a deafening roar, +enveloping the whole neighborhood in powder smoke. + +In contrast with the dread felt by the infantrymen placed in +support, here in the battery where a small number of men busy at their +work were separated from the rest by a trench, everyone experienced +a common and as it were family feeling of animation. + +The intrusion of Pierre's nonmilitary figure in a white hat made +an unpleasant impression at first. The soldiers looked askance at +him with surprise and even alarm as they went past him. The senior +artillery officer, a tall, long-legged, pockmarked man, moved over +to Pierre as if to see the action of the farthest gun and looked at +him with curiosity. + +A young round-faced officer, quite a boy still and evidently only +just out of the Cadet College, who was zealously commanding the two +guns entrusted to him, addressed Pierre sternly. + +"Sir," he said, "permit me to ask you to stand aside. You must not +be here." + +The soldiers shook their heads disapprovingly as they looked at +Pierre. But when they had convinced themselves that this man in the +white hat was doing no harm, but either sat quietly on the slope of +the trench with a shy smile or, politely making way for the +soldiers, paced up and down the battery under fire as calmly as if +he were on a boulevard, their feeling of hostile distrust gradually +began to change into a kindly and bantering sympathy, such as soldiers +feel for their dogs, cocks, goats, and in general for the animals that +live with the regiment. The men soon accepted Pierre into their +family, adopted him, gave him a nickname ("our gentleman"), and made +kindly fun of him among themselves. + +A shell tore up the earth two paces from Pierre and he looked around +with a smile as he brushed from his clothes some earth it had thrown +up. + +"And how's it you're not afraid, sir, really now?" a red-faced, +broad-shouldered soldier asked Pierre, with a grin that disclosed a +set of sound, white teeth. + +"Are you afraid, then?" said Pierre. + +"What else do you expect?" answered the soldier. "She has no +mercy, you know! When she comes spluttering down, out go your innards. +One can't help being afraid," he said laughing. + +Several of the men, with bright kindly faces, stopped beside Pierre. +They seemed not to have expected him to talk like anybody else, and +the discovery that he did so delighted them. + +"It's the business of us soldiers. But in a gentleman it's +wonderful! There's a gentleman for you!" + +"To your places!" cried the young officer to the men gathered +round Pierre. + +The young officer was evidently exercising his duties for the +first or second time and therefore treated both his superiors and +the men with great precision and formality. + +The booming cannonade and the fusillade of musketry were growing +more intense over the whole field, especially to the left where +Bagration's fleches were, but where Pierre was the smoke of the firing +made it almost impossible to distinguish anything. Moreover, his whole +attention was engrossed by watching the family circle--separated +from all else--formed by the men in the battery. His first unconscious +feeling of joyful animation produced by the sights and sounds of the +battlefield was now replaced by another, especially since he had +seen that soldier lying alone in the hayfield. Now, seated on the +slope of the trench, he observed the faces of those around him. + +By ten o'clock some twenty men had already been carried away from +the battery; two guns were smashed and cannon balls fell more and more +frequently on the battery and spent bullets buzzed and whistled +around. But the men in the battery seemed not to notice this, and +merry voices and jokes were heard on all sides. + +"A live one!" shouted a man as a whistling shell approached. + +"Not this way! To the infantry!" added another with loud laughter, +seeing the shell fly past and fall into the ranks of the supports. + +"Are you bowing to a friend, eh?" remarked another, chaffing a +peasant who ducked low as a cannon ball flew over. + +Several soldiers gathered by the wall of the trench, looking out +to see what was happening in front. + +"They've withdrawn the front line, it has retired," said they, +pointing over the earthwork. + +"Mind your own business," an old sergeant shouted at them. "If +they've retired it's because there's work for them to do farther +back." + +And the sergeant, taking one of the men by the shoulders, gave him a +shove with his knee. This was followed by a burst of laughter. + +"To the fifth gun, wheel it up!" came shouts from one side. + +"Now then, all together, like bargees!" rose the merry voices of +those who were moving the gun. + +"Oh, she nearly knocked our gentleman's hat off!" cried the +red-faced humorist, showing his teeth chaffing Pierre. "Awkward +baggage!" he added reproachfully to a cannon ball that struck a cannon +wheel and a man's leg. + +"Now then, you foxes!" said another, laughing at some militiamen +who, stooping low, entered the battery to carry away the wounded man. + +"So this gruel isn't to your taste? Oh, you crows! You're scared!" +they shouted at the militiamen who stood hesitating before the man +whose leg had been torn off. + +"There, lads... oh, oh!" they mimicked the peasants, "they don't +like it at all!" + +Pierre noticed that after every ball that hit the redoubt, and after +every loss, the liveliness increased more and more. + +As the flames of the fire hidden within come more and more vividly +and rapidly from an approaching thundercloud, so, as if in +opposition to what was taking place, the lightning of hidden fire +growing more and more intense glowed in the faces of these men. + +Pierre did not look out at the battlefield and was not concerned +to know what was happening there; he was entirely absorbed in watching +this fire which burned ever more brightly and which he felt was +flaming up in the same way in his own soul. + +At ten o'clock the infantry that had been among the bushes in +front of the battery and along the Kamenka streamlet retreated. From +the battery they could be seen running back past it carrying their +wounded on their muskets. A general with his suite came to the +battery, and after speaking to the colonel gave Pierre an angry look +and went away again having ordered the infantry supports behind the +battery to lie down, so as to be less exposed to fire. After this from +amid the ranks of infantry to the right of the battery came the +sound of a drum and shouts of command, and from the battery one saw +how those ranks of infantry moved forward. + +Pierre looked over the wall of the trench and was particularly +struck by a pale young officer who, letting his sword hang down, was +walking backwards and kept glancing uneasily around. + +The ranks of the infantry disappeared amid the smoke but their +long-drawn shout and rapid musketry firing could still be heard. A few +minutes later crowds of wounded men and stretcher-bearers came back +from that direction. Projectiles began to fall still more frequently +in the battery. Several men were lying about who had not been removed. +Around the cannon the men moved still more briskly and busily. No +one any longer took notice of Pierre. Once or twice he was shouted +at for being in the way. The senior officer moved with big, rapid +strides from one gun to another with a frowning face. The young +officer, with his face still more flushed, commanded the men more +scrupulously than ever. The soldiers handed up the charges, turned, +loaded, and did their business with strained smartness. They gave +little jumps as they walked, as though they were on springs. + +The stormcloud had come upon them, and in every face the fire +which Pierre had watched kindle burned up brightly. Pierre standing +beside the commanding officer. The young officer, his hand to his +shako, ran up to his superior. + +"I have the honor to report, sir, that only eight rounds are left. +Are we to continue firing?" he asked. + +"Grapeshot!" the senior shouted, without answering the question, +looking over the wall of the trench. + +Suddenly something happened: the young officer gave a gasp and +bending double sat down on the ground like a bird shot on the wing. +Everything became strange, confused, and misty in Pierre's eyes. + +One cannon ball after another whistled by and struck the +earthwork, a soldier, or a gun. Pierre, who had not noticed these +sounds before, now heard nothing else. On the right of the battery +soldiers shouting "Hurrah!" were running not forwards but backwards, +it seemed to Pierre. + +A cannon ball struck the very end of the earth work by which he +was standing, crumbling down the earth; a black ball flashed before +his eyes and at the same instant plumped into something. Some +militiamen who were entering the battery ran back. + +"All with grapeshot!" shouted the officer. + +The sergeant ran up to the officer and in a frightened whisper +informed him (as a butler at dinner informs his master that there is +no more of some wine asked for) that there were no more charges. + +"The scoundrels! What are they doing?" shouted the officer, +turning to Pierre. + +The officer's face was red and perspiring and his eyes glittered +under his frowning brow. + +"Run to the reserves and bring up the ammunition boxes!" he +yelled, angrily avoiding Pierre with his eyes and speaking to his men. + +"I'll go," said Pierre. + +The officer, without answering him, strode across to the opposite +side. + +"Don't fire.... Wait!" he shouted. + +The man who had been ordered to go for ammunition stumbled against +Pierre. + +"Eh, sir, this is no place for you," said he, and ran down the +slope. + +Pierre ran after him, avoiding the spot where the young officer +was sitting. + +One cannon ball, another, and a third flew over him, falling in +front, beside, and behind him. Pierre ran down the slope. "Where am +I going?" he suddenly asked himself when he was already near the green +ammunition wagons. He halted irresolutely, not knowing whether to +return or go on. Suddenly a terrible concussion threw him backwards to +the ground. At the same instant he was dazzled by a great flash of +flame, and immediately a deafening roar, crackling, and whistling made +his ears tingle. + +When he came to himself he was sitting on the ground leaning on +his hands; the ammunition wagons he had been approaching no longer +existed, only charred green boards and rags littered the scorched +grass, and a horse, dangling fragments of its shaft behind it, +galloped past, while another horse lay, like Pierre, on the ground, +uttering prolonged and piercing cries. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Beside himself with terror Pierre jumped up and ran back to the +battery, as to the only refuge from the horrors that surrounded him. + +On entering the earthwork he noticed that there were men doing +something there but that no shots were being fired from the battery. +He had no time to realize who these men were. He saw the senior +officer lying on the earth wall with his back turned as if he were +examining something down below and that one of the soldiers he had +noticed before was struggling forward shouting "Brothers!" and +trying to free himself from some men who were holding him by the +arm. He also saw something else that was strange. + +But he had not time to realize that the colonel had been killed, +that the soldier shouting "Brothers!" was a prisoner, and that another +man had been bayoneted in the back before his eyes, for hardly had +he run into the redoubt before a thin, sallow-faced, perspiring man in +a blue uniform rushed on him sword in hand, shouting something. +Instinctively guarding against the shock--for they had been running +together at full speed before they saw one another--Pierre put out his +hands and seized the man (a French officer) by the shoulder with one +hand and by the throat with the other. The officer, dropping his +sword, seized Pierre by his collar. + +For some seconds they gazed with frightened eyes at one another's +unfamiliar faces and both were perplexed at what they had done and +what they were to do next. "Am I taken prisoner or have I taken him +prisoner?" each was thinking. But the French officer was evidently +more inclined to think he had been taken prisoner because Pierre's +strong hand, impelled by instinctive fear, squeezed his throat ever +tighter and tighter. The Frenchman was about to say something, when +just above their heads, terrible and low, a cannon ball whistled, +and it seemed to Pierre that the French officer's head had been torn +off, so swiftly had he ducked it. + +Pierre too bent his head and let his hands fall. Without further +thought as to who had taken whom prisoner, the Frenchman ran back to +the battery and Pierre ran down the slope stumbling over the dead +and wounded who, it seemed to him, caught at his feet. But before he +reached the foot of the knoll he was met by a dense crowd of Russian +soldiers who, stumbling, tripping up, and shouting, ran merrily and +wildly toward the battery. (This was the attack for which Ermolov +claimed the credit, declaring that only his courage and good luck made +such a feat possible: it was the attack in which he was said to have +thrown some St. George's Crosses he had in his pocket into the battery +for the first soldiers to take who got there.) + +The French who had occupied the battery fled, and our troops +shouting "Hurrah!" pursued them so far beyond the battery that it +was difficult to call them back. + +The prisoners were brought down from the battery and among them +was a wounded French general, whom the officers surrounded. Crowds +of wounded--some known to Pierre and some unknown--Russians and +French, with faces distorted by suffering, walked, crawled, and were +carried on stretchers from the battery. Pierre again went up onto +the knoll where he had spent over an hour, and of that family circle +which had received him as a member he did not find a single one. There +were many dead whom he did not know, but some he recognized. The young +officer still sat in the same way, bent double, in a pool of blood +at the edge of the earth wall. The red-faced man was still +twitching, but they did not carry him away. + +Pierre ran down the slope once more. + +"Now they will stop it, now they will be horrified at what they have +done!" he thought, aimlessly going toward a crowd of stretcher bearers +moving from the battlefield. + +But behind the veil of smoke the sun was still high, and in front +and especially to the left, near Semenovsk, something seemed to be +seething in the smoke, and the roar of cannon and musketry did not +diminish, but even increased to desperation like a man who, +straining himself, shrieks with all his remaining strength. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +The chief action of the battle of Borodino was fought within the +seven thousand feet between Borodino and Bagration's fleches. Beyond +that space there was, on the one side, a demonstration made by the +Russians with Uvarov's cavalry at midday, and on the other side, +beyond Utitsa, Poniatowski's collision with Tuchkov; but these two +were detached and feeble actions in comparison with what took place in +the center of the battlefield. On the field between Borodino and the +fleches, beside the wood, the chief action of the day took place on an +open space visible from both sides and was fought in the simplest +and most artless way. + +The battle began on both sides with a cannonade from several hundred +guns. + +Then when the whole field was covered with smoke, two divisions, +Campan's and Dessaix's, advanced from the French right, while +Murat's troops advanced on Borodino from their left. + +From the Shevardino Redoubt where Napoleon was standing the +fleches were two thirds of a mile away, and it was more than a mile as +the crow flies to Borodino, so that Napoleon could not see what was +happening there, especially as the smoke mingling with the mist hid +the whole locality. The soldiers of Dessaix's division advancing +against the fleches could only be seen till they had entered the +hollow that lay between them and the fleches. As soon as they had +descended into that hollow, the smoke of the guns and musketry on +the fleches grew so dense that it covered the whole approach on that +side of it. Through the smoke glimpses could be caught of something +black--probably men--and at times the glint of bayonets. But whether +they were moving or stationary, whether they were French or Russian, +could not be discovered from the Shevardino Redoubt. + +The sun had risen brightly and its slanting rays struck straight +into Napoleon's face as, shading his eyes with his hand, he looked +at the fleches. The smoke spread out before them, and at times it +looked as if the smoke were moving, at times as if the troops moved. +Sometimes shouts were heard through the firing, but it was +impossible to tell what was being done there. + +Napoleon, standing on the knoll, looked through a field glass, and +in its small circlet saw smoke and men, sometimes his own and +sometimes Russians, but when he looked again with the naked eye, he +could not tell where what he had seen was. + +He descended the knoll and began walking up and down before it. + +Occasionally he stopped, listened to the firing, and gazed +intently at the battlefield. + +But not only was it impossible to make out what was happening from +where he was standing down below, or from the knoll above on which +some of his generals had taken their stand, but even from the +fleches themselves--in which by this time there were now Russian and +now French soldiers, alternately or together, dead, wounded, alive, +frightened, or maddened--even at those fleches themselves it was +impossible to make out what was taking place. There for several +hours amid incessant cannon and musketry fire, now Russians were +seen alone, now Frenchmen alone, now infantry, and now cavalry: they +appeared, fired, fell, collided, not knowing what to do with one +another, screamed, and ran back again. + +From the battlefield adjutants he had sent out, and orderlies from his +marshals, kept galloping up to Napoleon with reports of the progress +of the action, but all these reports were false, both because it was +impossible in the heat of battle to say what was happening at any +given moment and because many of the adjutants did not go to the +actual place of conflict but reported what they had heard from others; +and also because while an adjutant was riding more than a mile to +Napoleon circumstances changed and the news he brought was already +becoming false. Thus an adjutant galloped up from Murat with tidings +that Borodino had been occupied and the bridge over the Kolocha was in +the hands of the French. The adjutant asked whether Napoleon wished +the troops to cross it? Napoleon gave orders that the troops should +form up on the farther side and wait. But before that order was +given--almost as soon in fact as the adjutant had left Borodino--the +bridge had been retaken by the Russians and burned, in the very +skirmish at which Pierre had been present at the beginning of the +battle. + +An adjutant galloped up from the fleches with a pale and +frightened face and reported to Napoleon that their attack had been +repulsed, Campan wounded, and Davout killed; yet at the very time +the adjutant had been told that the French had been repulsed, the +fleches had in fact been recaptured by other French troops, and Davout +was alive and only slightly bruised. On the basis of these necessarily +untrustworthy reports Napoleon gave his orders, which had either +been executed before he gave them or could not be and were not +executed. + +The marshals and generals, who were nearer to the field of battle +but, like Napoleon, did not take part in the actual fighting and +only occasionally went within musket range, made their own +arrangements without asking Napoleon and issued orders where and in +what direction to fire and where cavalry should gallop and infantry +should run. But even their orders, like Napoleon's, were seldom +carried out, and then but partially. For the most part things happened +contrary to their orders. Soldiers ordered to advance ran back on +meeting grapeshot; soldiers ordered to remain where they were, +suddenly, seeing Russians unexpectedly before them, sometimes rushed +back and sometimes forward, and the cavalry dashed without orders in +pursuit of the flying Russians. In this way two cavalry regiments +galloped through the Semenovsk hollow and as soon as they reached +the top of the incline turned round and galloped full speed back +again. The infantry moved in the same way, sometimes running to +quite other places than those they were ordered to go to. All orders +as to where and when to move the guns, when to send infantry to +shoot or horsemen to ride down the Russian infantry--all such orders +were given by the officers on the spot nearest to the units concerned, +without asking either Ney, Davout, or Murat, much less Napoleon. +They did not fear getting into trouble for not fulfilling orders or +for acting on their own initiative, for in battle what is at stake +is what is dearest to man--his own life--and it sometimes seems that +safety lies in running back, sometimes in running forward; and these +men who were right in the heat of the battle acted according to the +mood of the moment. In reality, however, all these movements forward +and backward did not improve or alter the position of the troops. +All their rushing and galloping at one another did little harm, the +harm of disablement and death was caused by the balls and bullets that +flew over the fields on which these men were floundering about. As +soon as they left the place where the balls and bullets were flying +about, their superiors, located in the background, re-formed them +and brought them under discipline and under the influence of that +discipline led them back to the zone of fire, where under the +influence of fear of death they lost their discipline and rushed about +according to the chance promptings of the throng. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Napoleon's generals--Davout, Ney, and Murat, who were near that +region of fire and sometimes even entered it--repeatedly led into it +huge masses of well-ordered troops. But contrary to what had always +happened in their former battles, instead of the news they expected of +the enemy's flight, these orderly masses returned thence as +disorganized and terrified mobs. The generals re-formed them, but +their numbers constantly decreased. In the middle of the day Murat +sent his adjutant to Napoleon to demand reinforcements. + +Napoleon sat at the foot of the knoll, drinking punch, when +Murat's adjutant galloped up with an assurance that the Russians would +be routed if His Majesty would let him have another division. + +"Reinforcements?" said Napoleon in a tone of stern surprise, looking +at the adjutant--a handsome lad with long black curls arranged like +Murat's own--as though he did not understand his words. + +"Reinforcements!" thought Napoleon to himself. "How can they need +reinforcements when they already have half the army directed against a +weak, unentrenched Russian wing?" + +"Tell the King of Naples," said he sternly, "that it is not noon +yet, and I don't yet see my chessboard clearly. Go!..." + +The handsome boy adjutant with the long hair sighed deeply without +removing his hand from his hat and galloped back to where men were +being slaughtered. + +Napoleon rose and having summoned Caulaincourt and Berthier began +talking to them about matters unconnected with the battle. + +In the midst of this conversation, which was beginning to interest +Napoleon, Berthier's eyes turned to look at a general with a suite, +who was galloping toward the knoll on a lathering horse. It was +Belliard. Having dismounted he went up to the Emperor with rapid +strides and in a loud voice began boldly demonstrating the necessity +of sending reinforcements. He swore on his honor that the Russians +were lost if the Emperor would give another division. + +Napoleon shrugged his shoulders and continued to pace up and down +without replying. Belliard began talking loudly and eagerly to the +generals of the suite around him. + +"You are very fiery, Belliard," said Napoleon, when he again came up +to the general. "In the heat of a battle it is easy to make a mistake. +Go and have another look and then come back to me." + +Before Belliard was out of sight, a messenger from another part of +the battlefield galloped up. + +"Now then, what do you want?" asked Napoleon in the tone of a man +irritated at being continually disturbed. + +"Sire, the prince..." began the adjutant. + +"Asks for reinforcements?" said Napoleon with an angry gesture. + +The adjutant bent his head affirmatively and began to report, but +the Emperor turned from him, took a couple of steps, stopped, came +back, and called Berthier. + +"We must give reserves," he said, moving his arms slightly apart. +"Who do you think should be sent there?" he asked of Berthier (whom he +subsequently termed "that gosling I have made an eagle"). + +"Send Claparede's division, sire," replied Berthier, who knew all +the divisions regiments, and battalions by heart. + +Napoleon nodded assent. + +The adjutant galloped to Claparede's division and a few minutes +later the Young Guards stationed behind the knoll moved forward. +Napoleon gazed silently in that direction. + +"No!" he suddenly said to Berthier. "I can't send Claparede. Send +Friant's division." + +Though there was no advantage in sending Friant's division instead +of Claparede's, and even in obvious inconvenience and delay in +stopping Claparede and sending Friant now, the order was carried out +exactly. Napoleon did not notice that in regard to his army he was +playing the part of a doctor who hinders by his medicines--a role he +so justly understood and condemned. + +Friant's division disappeared as the others had done into the +smoke of the battlefield. From all sides adjutants continued to arrive +at a gallop and as if by agreement all said the same thing. They all +asked for reinforcements and all said that the Russians were holding +their positions and maintaining a hellish fire under which the +French army was melting away. + +Napoleon sat on a campstool, wrapped in thought. + +M. de Beausset, the man so fond of travel, having fasted since +morning, came up to the Emperor and ventured respectfully to suggest +lunch to His Majesty. + +"I hope I may now congratulate Your Majesty on a victory?" said he. + +Napoleon silently shook his head in negation. Assuming the +negation to refer only to the victory and not to the lunch, M. de +Beausset ventured with respectful jocularity to remark that there is +no reason for not having lunch when one can get it. + +"Go away..." exclaimed Napoleon suddenly and morosely, and turned +aside. + +A beatific smile of regret, repentance, and ecstasy beamed on M. +de Beausset's face and he glided away to the other generals. + +Napoleon was experiencing a feeling of depression like that of an +ever-lucky gambler who, after recklessly flinging money about and +always winning, suddenly just when he has calculated all the chances +of the game, finds that the more he considers his play the more surely +he loses. + +His troops were the same, his generals the same, the same +preparations had been made, the same dispositions, and the same +proclamation courte et energique, he himself was still the same: he +knew that and knew that he was now even more experienced and +skillful than before. Even the enemy was the same as at Austerlitz and +Friedland--yet the terrible stroke of his arm had supernaturally +become impotent. + +All the old methods that had been unfailingly crowned with +success: the concentration of batteries on one point, an attack by +reserves to break the enemy's line, and a cavalry attack by "the men +of iron," all these methods had already been employed, yet not only +was there no victory, but from all sides came the same news of +generals killed and wounded, of reinforcements needed, of the +impossibility of driving back the Russians, and of disorganization +among his own troops. + +Formerly, after he had given two or three orders and uttered a few +phrases, marshals and adjutants had come galloping up with +congratulations and happy faces, announcing the trophies taken, the +corps of prisoners, bundles of enemy eagles and standards, cannon +and stores, and Murat had only begged leave to loose the cavalry to +gather in the baggage wagons. So it had been at Lodi, Marengo, Arcola, +Jena, Austerlitz, Wagram, and so on. But now something strange was +happening to his troops. + +Despite news of the capture of the fleches, Napoleon saw that this +was not the same, not at all the same, as what had happened in his +former battles. He saw that what he was feeling was felt by all the +men about him experienced in the art of war. All their faces looked +dejected, and they all shunned one another's eyes--only a de +Beausset could fail to grasp the meaning of what was happening. + +But Napoleon with his long experience of war well knew the meaning +of a battle not gained by the attacking side in eight hours, after all +efforts had been expended. He knew that it was a lost battle and +that the least accident might now--with the fight balanced on such a +strained center--destroy him and his army. + +When he ran his mind over the whole of this strange Russian campaign +in which not one battle had been won, and in which not a flag, or +cannon, or army corps had been captured in two months, when he +looked at the concealed depression on the faces around him and heard +reports of the Russians still holding their ground--a terrible feeling +like a nightmare took possession of him, and all the unlucky accidents +that might destroy him occurred to his mind. The Russians might fall +on his left wing, might break through his center, he himself might +be killed by a stray cannon ball. All this was possible. In former +battles he had only considered the possibilities of success, but now +innumerable unlucky chances presented themselves, and he expected them +all. Yes, it was like a dream in which a man fancies that a ruffian is +coming to attack him, and raises his arm to strike that ruffian a +terrible blow which he knows should annihilate him, but then feels +that his arm drops powerless and limp like a rag, and the horror of +unavoidable destruction seizes him in his helplessness. + +The news that the Russians were attacking the left flank of the +French army aroused that horror in Napoleon. He sat silently on a +campstool below the knoll, with head bowed and elbows on his knees. +Berthier approached and suggested that they should ride along the line +to ascertain the position of affairs. + +"What? What do you say?" asked Napoleon. "Yes, tell them to bring me +my horse." + +He mounted and rode toward Semenovsk. + +Amid the powder smoke, slowly dispersing over the whole space +through which Napoleon rode, horses and men were lying in pools of +blood, singly or in heaps. Neither Napoleon nor any of his generals +had ever before seen such horrors or so many slain in such a small +area. The roar of guns, that had not ceased for ten hours, wearied the +ear and gave a peculiar significance to the spectacle, as music does +to tableaux vivants. Napoleon rode up the high ground at Semenovsk, +and through the smoke saw ranks of men in uniforms of a color +unfamiliar to him. They were Russians. + +The Russians stood in serried ranks behind Semenovsk village and its +knoll, and their guns boomed incessantly along their line and sent +forth clouds of smoke. It was no longer a battle: it was a +continuous slaughter which could be of no avail either to the French +or the Russians. Napoleon stopped his horse and again fell into the +reverie from which Berthier had aroused him. He could not stop what +was going on before him and around him and was supposed to be directed +by him and to depend on him, and from its lack of success this affair, +for the first time, seemed to him unnecessary and horrible. + +One of the generals rode up to Napoleon and ventured to offer to +lead the Old Guard into action. Ney and Berthier, standing near +Napoleon, exchanged looks and smiled contemptuously at this +general's senseless offer. + +Napoleon bowed his head and remained silent a long time. + +"At eight hundred leagues from France, I will not have my Guard +destroyed!" he said, and turning his horse rode back to Shevardino. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +On the rug-covered bench where Pierre had seen him in the morning +sat Kutuzov, his gray head hanging, his heavy body relaxed. He gave no +orders, but only assented to or dissented from what others suggested. + +"Yes, yes, do that," he replied to various proposals. "Yes, yes: go, +dear boy, and have a look," he would say to one or another of those +about him; or, "No, don't, we'd better wait!" He listened to the +reports that were brought him and gave directions when his +subordinates demanded that of him; but when listening to the reports +it seemed as if he were not interested in the import of the words +spoken, but rather in something else--in the expression of face and +tone of voice of those who were reporting. By long years of military +experience he knew, and with the wisdom of age understood, that it +is impossible for one man to direct hundreds of thousands of others +struggling with death, and he knew that the result of a battle is +decided not by the orders of a commander in chief, nor the place where +the troops are stationed, nor by the number of cannon or of +slaughtered men, but by that intangible force called the spirit of the +army, and he watched this force and guided it in as far as that was in +his power. + +Kutuzov's general expression was one of concentrated quiet +attention, and his face wore a strained look as if he found it +difficult to master the fatigue of his old and feeble body. + +At eleven o'clock they brought him news that the fleches captured by +the French had been retaken, but that Prince Bagration was wounded. +Kutuzov groaned and swayed his head. + +"Ride over to Prince Peter Ivanovich and find out about it exactly," +he said to one of his adjutants, and then turned to the Duke of +Wurttemberg who was standing behind him. + +"Will Your Highness please take command of the first army?" + +Soon after the duke's departure--before he could possibly have +reached Semenovsk--his adjutant came back from him and told Kutuzov +that the duke asked for more troops. + +Kutuzov made a grimace and sent an order to Dokhturov to take over +the command of the first army, and a request to the duke--whom he said +he could not spare at such an important moment--to return to him. When +they brought him news that Murat had been taken prisoner, and the +staff officers congratulated him, Kutuzov smiled. + +"Wait a little, gentlemen," said he. "The battle is won, and there +is nothing extraordinary in the capture of Murat. Still, it is +better to wait before we rejoice." + +But he sent an adjutant to take the news round the army. + +When Scherbinin came galloping from the left flank with news that +the French had captured the fleches and the village of Semenovsk, +Kutuzov, guessing by the sounds of the battle and by Scherbinin's +looks that the news was bad, rose as if to stretch his legs and, +taking Scherbinin's arm, led him aside. + +"Go, my dear fellow," he said to Ermolov, "and see whether something +can't be done." + +Kutuzov was in Gorki, near the center of the Russian position. The +attack directed by Napoleon against our left flank had been several +times repulsed. In the center the French had not got beyond +Borodino, and on their left flank Uvarov's cavalry had put the +French to flight. + +Toward three o'clock the French attacks ceased. On the faces of +all who came from the field of battle, and of those who stood around +him, Kutuzov noticed an expression of extreme tension. He was +satisfied with the day's success--a success exceeding his +expectations, but the old man's strength was failing him. Several +times his head dropped low as if it were falling and he dozed off. +Dinner was brought him. + +Adjutant General Wolzogen, the man who when riding past Prince +Andrew had said, "the war should be extended widely," and whom +Bagration so detested, rode up while Kutuzov was at dinner. Wolzogen +had come from Barclay de Tolly to report on the progress of affairs on +the left flank. The sagacious Barclay de Tolly, seeing crowds of +wounded men running back and the disordered rear of the army, +weighed all the circumstances, concluded that the battle was lost, and +sent his favorite officer to the commander in chief with that news. + +Kutuzov was chewing a piece of roast chicken with difficulty and +glanced at Wolzogen with eyes that brightened under their puckering +lids. + +Wolzogen, nonchalantly stretching his legs, approached Kutuzov +with a half-contemptuous smile on his lips, scarcely touching the peak +of his cap. + +He treated his Serene Highness with a somewhat affected +nonchalance intended to show that, as a highly trained military man, +he left it to Russians to make an idol of this useless old man, but +that he knew whom he was dealing with. "Der alte Herr" (as in their +own set the Germans called Kutuzov) "is making himself very +comfortable," thought Wolzogen, and looking severely at the dishes +in front of Kutuzov he began to report to "the old gentleman" the +position of affairs on the left flank as Barclay had ordered him to +and as he himself had seen and understood it. + +"All the points of our position are in the enemy's hands and we +cannot dislodge them for lack of troops, the men are running away +and it is impossible to stop them," he reported. + +Kutuzov ceased chewing and fixed an astonished gaze on Wolzogen, as if +not understanding what was said to him. Wolzogen, noticing "the old +gentleman's" agitation, said with a smile: + +"I have not considered it right to conceal from your Serene Highness +what I have seen. The troops are in complete disorder..." + +"You have seen? You have seen?..." Kutuzov shouted frowning, and +rising quickly he went up to Wolzogen. + +"How... how dare you!..." he shouted, choking and making a +threatening gesture with his trembling arms: "How dare you, sir, say +that to me? You know nothing about it. Tell General Barclay from me +that his information is incorrect and that the real course of the +battle is better known to me, the commander in chief, than to him." + +Wolzogen was about to make a rejoinder, but Kutuzov interrupted him. + +"The enemy has been repulsed on the left and defeated on the right +flank. If you have seen amiss, sir, do not allow yourself to say +what you don't know! Be so good as to ride to General Barclay and +inform him of my firm intention to attack the enemy tomorrow," said +Kutuzov sternly. + +All were silent, and the only sound audible was the heavy +breathing of the panting old general. + +"They are repulsed everywhere, for which I thank God and our brave +army! The enemy is beaten, and tomorrow we shall drive him from the +sacred soil of Russia," said Kutuzov crossing himself, and he suddenly +sobbed as his eyes filled with tears. + +Wolzogen, shrugging his shoulders and curling his lips, stepped +silently aside, marveling at "the old gentleman's" conceited +stupidity. + +"Ah, here he is, my hero!" said Kutuzov to a portly, handsome, +dark-haired general who was just ascending the knoll. + +This was Raevski, who had spent the whole day at the most +important part of the field of Borodino. + +Raevski reported that the troops were firmly holding their ground +and that the French no longer ventured to attack. + +After hearing him, Kutuzov said in French: + +"Then you do not think, like some others, that we must retreat?" + +"On the contrary, your Highness, in indecisive actions it is +always the most stubborn who remain victors," replied Raevski, "and in +my opinion..." + +"Kaysarov!" Kutuzov called to his adjutant. "Sit down and write out +the order of the day for tomorrow. And you," he continued, addressing +another, "ride along the line and announce that tomorrow we attack." + +While Kutuzov was talking to Raevski and dictating the order of +the day, Wolzogen returned from Barclay and said that General +Barclay wished to have written confirmation of the order the field +marshal had given. + +Kutuzov, without looking at Wolzogen, gave directions for the +order to be written out which the former commander in chief, to +avoid personal responsibility, very judiciously wished to receive. + +And by means of that mysterious indefinable bond which maintains +throughout an army one and the same temper, known as "the spirit of +the army," and which constitutes the sinew of war, Kutuzov's words, +his order for a battle next day, immediately became known from one end +of the army to the other. + +It was far from being the same words or the same order that +reached the farthest links of that chain. The tales passing from mouth +to mouth at different ends of the army did not even resemble what +Kutuzov had said, but the sense of his words spread everywhere because +what he said was not the outcome of cunning calculations, but of a +feeling that lay in the commander in chief's soul as in that of +every Russian. + +And on learning that tomorrow they were to attack the enemy, and +hearing from the highest quarters a confirmation of what they wanted +to believe, the exhausted, wavering men felt comforted and inspirited. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +Prince Andrew's regiment was among the reserves which till after one +o'clock were stationed inactive behind Semenovsk, under heavy +artillery fire. Toward two o'clock the regiment, having already lost +more than two hundred men, was moved forward into a trampled +oatfield in the gap between Semenovsk and the Knoll Battery, where +thousands of men perished that day and on which an intense, +concentrated fire from several hundred enemy guns was directed between +one and two o'clock. + +Without moving from that spot or firing a single shot the regiment +here lost another third of its men. From in front and especially +from the right, in the unlifting smoke the guns boomed, and out of the +mysterious domain of smoke that overlay the whole space in front, +quick hissing cannon balls and slow whistling shells flew unceasingly. +At times, as if to allow them a respite, a quarter of an hour passed +during which the cannon balls and shells all flew overhead, but +sometimes several men were torn from the regiment in a minute and +the slain were continually being dragged away and the wounded +carried off. + +With each fresh blow less and less chance of life remained for those +not yet killed. The regiment stood in columns of battalion, three +hundred paces apart, but nevertheless the men were always in one and +the same mood. All alike were taciturn and morose. Talk was rarely +heard in the ranks, and it ceased altogether every time the thud of +a successful shot and the cry of "stretchers!" was heard. Most of +the time, by their officers' order, the men sat on the ground. One, +having taken off his shako, carefully loosened the gathers of its +lining and drew them tight again; another, rubbing some dry clay +between his palms, polished his bayonet; another fingered the strap +and pulled the buckle of his bandolier, while another smoothed and +refolded his leg bands and put his boots on again. Some built little +houses of the tufts in the plowed ground, or plaited baskets from +the straw in the cornfield. All seemed fully absorbed in these +pursuits. When men were killed or wounded, when rows of stretchers +went past, when some troops retreated, and when great masses of the +enemy came into view through the smoke, no one paid any attention to +these things. But when our artillery or cavalry advanced or some of +our infantry were seen to move forward, words of approval were heard +on all sides. But the liveliest attention was attracted by occurrences +quite apart from, and unconnected with, the battle. It was as if the +minds of these morally exhausted men found relief in everyday, +commonplace occurrences. A battery of artillery was passing in front +of the regiment. The horse of an ammunition cart put its leg over a +trace. "Hey, look at the trace horse!... Get her leg out! She'll +fall.... Ah, they don't see it!" came identical shouts from the +ranks all along the regiment. Another time, general attention was +attracted by a small brown dog, coming heaven knows whence, which +trotted in a preoccupied manner in front of the ranks with tail +stiffly erect till suddenly a shell fell close by, when it yelped, +tucked its tail between its legs, and darted aside. Yells and +shrieks of laughter rose from the whole regiment. But such +distractions lasted only a moment, and for eight hours the men had +been inactive, without food, in constant fear of death, and their pale +and gloomy faces grew ever paler and gloomier. + +Prince Andrew, pale and gloomy like everyone in the regiment, +paced up and down from the border of one patch to another, at the edge +of the meadow beside an oatfield, with head bowed and arms behind +his back. There was nothing for him to do and no orders to be given. +Everything went on of itself. The killed were dragged from the +front, the wounded carried away, and the ranks closed up. If any +soldiers ran to the rear they returned immediately and hastily. At +first Prince Andrew, considering it his duty to rouse the courage of +the men and to set them an example, walked about among the ranks, +but he soon became convinced that this was unnecessary and that +there was nothing he could teach them. All the powers of his soul, +as of every soldier there, were unconsciously bent on avoiding the +contemplation of the horrors of their situation. He walked along the +meadow, dragging his feet, rustling the grass, and gazing at the +dust that covered his boots; now he took big strides trying to keep to +the footprints left on the meadow by the mowers, then he counted his +steps, calculating how often he must walk from one strip to another to +walk a mile, then he stripped the flowers from the wormwood that +grew along a boundary rut, rubbed them in his palms, and smelled their +pungent, sweetly bitter scent. Nothing remained of the previous +day's thoughts. He thought of nothing. He listened with weary ears +to the ever-recurring sounds, distinguishing the whistle of flying +projectiles from the booming of the reports, glanced at the tiresomely +familiar faces of the men of the first battalion, and waited. "Here it +comes... this one is coming our way again!" he thought, listening to +an approaching whistle in the hidden region of smoke. "One, another! +Again! It has hit...." He stopped and looked at the ranks. "No, it has +gone over. But this one has hit!" And again he started trying to reach +the boundary strip in sixteen paces. A whizz and a thud! Five paces +from him, a cannon ball tore up the dry earth and disappeared. A chill +ran down his back. Again he glanced at the ranks. Probably many had +been hit--a large crowd had gathered near the second battalion. + +"Adjutant!" he shouted. "Order them not to crowd together." + +The adjutant, having obeyed this instruction, approached Prince +Andrew. From the other side a battalion commander rode up. + +"Look out!" came a frightened cry from a soldier and, like a bird +whirring in rapid flight and alighting on the ground, a shell +dropped with little noise within two steps of Prince Andrew and +close to the battalion commander's horse. The horse first, +regardless of whether it was right or wrong to show fear, snorted, +reared almost throwing the major, and galloped aside. The horse's +terror infected the men. + +"Lie down!" cried the adjutant, throwing himself flat on the ground. + +Prince Andrew hesitated. The smoking shell spun like a top between +him and the prostrate adjutant, near a wormwood plant between the +field and the meadow. + +"Can this be death?" thought Prince Andrew, looking with a quite +new, envious glance at the grass, the wormwood, and the streamlet of +smoke that curled up from the rotating black ball. "I cannot, I do not +wish to die. I love life--I love this grass, this earth, this air...." +He thought this, and at the same time remembered that people were +looking at him. + +"It's shameful, sir!" he said to the adjutant. "What..." + +He did not finish speaking. At one and the same moment came the +sound of an explosion, a whistle of splinters as from a breaking +window frame, a suffocating smell of powder, and Prince Andrew started +to one side, raising his arm, and fell on his chest. Several +officers ran up to him. From the right side of his abdomen, blood +was welling out making a large stain on the grass. + +The militiamen with stretchers who were called up stood behind the +officers. Prince Andrew lay on his chest with his face in the grass, +breathing heavily and noisily. + +"What are you waiting for? Come along!" + +The peasants went up and took him by his shoulders and legs, but +he moaned piteously and, exchanging looks, they set him down again. + +"Pick him up, lift him, it's all the same!" cried someone. + +They again took him by the shoulders and laid him on the stretcher. + +"Ah, God! My God! What is it? The stomach? That means death! My +God!"--voices among the officers were heard saying. + +"It flew a hair's breadth past my ear," said the adjutant. + +The peasants, adjusting the stretcher to their shoulders, started +hurriedly along the path they had trodden down, to the dressing +station. + +"Keep in step! Ah... those peasants!" shouted an officer, seizing by +their shoulders and checking the peasants, who were walking unevenly +and jolting the stretcher. + +"Get into step, Fedor... I say, Fedor!" said the foremost peasant. + +"Now that's right!" said the one behind joyfully, when he had got +into step. + +"Your excellency! Eh, Prince!" said the trembling voice of Timokhin, +who had run up and was looking down on the stretcher. + +Prince Andrew opened his eyes and looked up at the speaker from +the stretcher into which his head had sunk deep and again his +eyelids drooped. + + +The militiamen carried Prince Andrew to the dressing station by the +wood, where wagons were stationed. The dressing station consisted of +three tents with flaps turned back, pitched at the edge of a birch +wood. In the wood, wagons and horses were standing. The horses were +eating oats from their movable troughs and sparrows flew down and +pecked the grains that fell. Some crows, scenting blood, flew among +the birch trees cawing impatiently. Around the tents, over more than +five acres, bloodstained men in various garbs stood, sat, or lay. +Around the wounded stood crowds of soldier stretcher-bearers with +dismal and attentive faces, whom the officers keeping order tried in +vain to drive from the spot. Disregarding the officers' orders, the +soldiers stood leaning against their stretchers and gazing intently, +as if trying to comprehend the difficult problem of what was taking +place before them. From the tents came now loud angry cries and now +plaintive groans. Occasionally dressers ran out to fetch water, or +to point out those who were to be brought in next. The wounded men +awaiting their turn outside the tents groaned, sighed, wept, screamed, +swore, or asked for vodka. Some were delirious. Prince Andrew's +bearers, stepping over the wounded who had not yet been bandaged, took +him, as a regimental commander, close up to one of the tents and there +stopped, awaiting instructions. Prince Andrew opened his eyes and +for a long time could not make out what was going on around him. He +remembered the meadow, the wormwood, the field, the whirling black +ball, and his sudden rush of passionate love of life. Two steps from +him, leaning against a branch and talking loudly and attracting +general attention, stood a tall, handsome, black-haired +noncommissioned officer with a bandaged head. He had been wounded in +the head and leg by bullets. Around him, eagerly listening to his +talk, a crowd of wounded and stretcher-bearers was gathered. + +"We kicked him out from there so that he chucked everything, we +grabbed the King himself!" cried he, looking around him with eyes that +glittered with fever. "If only reserves had come up just then, lads, +there wouldn't have been nothing left of him! I tell you surely..." + +Like all the others near the speaker, Prince Andrew looked at him +with shining eyes and experienced a sense of comfort. "But isn't it +all the same now?" thought he. "And what will be there, and what has +there been here? Why was I so reluctant to part with life? There was +something in this life I did not and do not understand." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +One of the doctors came out of the tent in a bloodstained apron, +holding a cigar between the thumb and little finger of one of his +small bloodstained hands, so as not to smear it. He raised his head +and looked about him, but above the level of the wounded men. He +evidently wanted a little respite. After turning his head from right +to left for some time, he sighed and looked down. + +"All right, immediately," he replied to a dresser who pointed Prince +Andrew out to him, and he told them to carry him into the tent. + +Murmurs arose among the wounded who were waiting. + +"It seems that even in the next world only the gentry are to have +a chance!" remarked one. + +Prince Andrew was carried in and laid on a table that had only +just been cleared and which a dresser was washing down. Prince +Andrew could not make out distinctly what was in that tent. The +pitiful groans from all sides and the torturing pain in his thigh, +stomach, and back distracted him. All he saw about him merged into a +general impression of naked, bleeding human bodies that seemed to fill +the whole of the low tent, as a few weeks previously, on that hot +August day, such bodies had filled the dirty pond beside the +Smolensk road. Yes, it was the same flesh, the same chair a canon, the +sight of which had even then filled him with horror, as by a +presentiment. + +There were three operating tables in the tent. Two were occupied, +and on the third they placed Prince Andrew. For a little while he +was left alone and involuntarily witnessed what was taking place on +the other two tables. On the nearest one sat a Tartar, probably a +Cossack, judging by the uniform thrown down beside him. Four +soldiers were holding him, and a spectacled doctor was cutting into +his muscular brown back. + +"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" grunted the Tartar, and suddenly lifting up his +swarthy snub-nosed face with its high cheekbones, and baring his white +teeth, he began to wriggle and twitch his body and utter piercing, +ringing, and prolonged yells. On the other table, round which many +people were crowding, a tall well-fed man lay on his back with his +head thrown back. His curly hair, its color, and the shape of his head +seemed strangely familiar to Prince Andrew. Several dressers were +pressing on his chest to hold him down. One large, white, plump leg +twitched rapidly all the time with a feverish tremor. The man was +sobbing and choking convulsively. Two doctors--one of whom was pale +and trembling--were silently doing something to this man's other, gory +leg. When he had finished with the Tartar, whom they covered with an +overcoat, the spectacled doctor came up to Prince Andrew, wiping his +hands. + +He glanced at Prince Andrew's face and quickly turned away. + +"Undress him! What are you waiting for?" he cried angrily to the +dressers. + +His very first, remotest recollections of childhood came back to +Prince Andrew's mind when the dresser with sleeves rolled up began +hastily to undo the buttons of his clothes and undressed him. The +doctor bent down over the wound, felt it, and sighed deeply. Then he +made a sign to someone, and the torturing pain in his abdomen caused +Prince Andrew to lose consciousness. When he came to himself the +splintered portions of his thighbone had been extracted, the torn +flesh cut away, and the wound bandaged. Water was being sprinkled on +his face. As soon as Prince Andrew opened his eyes, the doctor bent +over, kissed him silently on the lips, and hurried away. + +After the sufferings he had been enduring, Prince Andrew enjoyed a +blissful feeling such as he had not experienced for a long time. All +the best and happiest moments of his life--especially his earliest +childhood, when he used to be undressed and put to bed, and when +leaning over him his nurse sang him to sleep and he, burying his head +in the pillow, felt happy in the mere consciousness of life--returned +to his memory, not merely as something past but as something present. + +The doctors were busily engaged with the wounded man the shape of +whose head seemed familiar to Prince Andrew: they were lifting him +up and trying to quiet him. + +"Show it to me.... Oh, ooh... Oh! Oh, ooh!" his frightened moans +could be heard, subdued by suffering and broken by sobs. + +Hearing those moans Prince Andrew wanted to weep. +Whether because he was dying without glory, or because he was sorry to +part with life, or because of those memories of a childhood that could +not return, or because he was suffering and others were suffering +and that man near him was groaning so piteously--he felt like +weeping childlike, kindly, and almost happy tears. + +The wounded man was shown his amputated leg stained with clotted +blood and with the boot still on. + +"Oh! Oh, ooh!" he sobbed, like a woman. + +The doctor who had been standing beside him, preventing Prince +Andrew from seeing his face, moved away. + +"My God! What is this? Why is he here?" said Prince Andrew to +himself. + +In the miserable, sobbing, enfeebled man whose leg had just been +amputated, he recognized Anatole Kuragin. Men were supporting him in +their arms and offering him a glass of water, but his trembling, +swollen lips could not grasp its rim. Anatole was sobbing painfully. +"Yes, it is he! Yes, that man is somehow closely and painfully +connected with me," thought Prince Andrew, not yet clearly grasping +what he saw before him. "What is the connection of that man with my +childhood and life?" he asked himself without finding an answer. And +suddenly a new unexpected memory from that realm of pure and loving +childhood presented itself to him. He remembered Natasha as he had +seen her for the first time at the ball in 1810, with her slender neck +and arms and with a frightened happy face ready for rapture, and +love and tenderness for her, stronger and more vivid than ever, +awoke in his soul. He now remembered the connection that existed +between himself and this man who was dimly gazing at him through tears +that filled his swollen eyes. He remembered everything, and ecstatic +pity and love for that man overflowed his happy heart. + +Prince Andrew could no longer restrain himself and wept tender +loving tears for his fellow men, for himself, and for his own and +their errors. + +"Compassion, love of our brothers, for those who love us and for +those who hate us, love of our enemies; yes, that love which God +preached on earth and which Princess Mary taught me and I did not +understand--that is what made me sorry to part with life, that is what +remained for me had I lived. But now it is too late. I know it!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +The terrible spectacle of the battlefield covered with dead and +wounded, together with the heaviness of his head and the news that +some twenty generals he knew personally had been killed or wounded, +and the consciousness of the impotence of his once mighty arm, +produced an unexpected impression on Napoleon who usually liked to +look at the killed and wounded, thereby, he considered, testing his +strength of mind. This day the horrible appearance of the +battlefield overcame that strength of mind which he thought +constituted his merit and his greatness. He rode hurriedly from the +battlefield and returned to the Shevardino knoll, where he sat on +his campstool, his sallow face swollen and heavy, his eyes dim, his +nose red, and his voice hoarse, involuntarily listening, with downcast +eyes, to the sounds of firing. With painful dejection he awaited the +end of this action, in which he regarded himself as a participant +and which he was unable to arrest. A personal, human feeling for a +brief moment got the better of the artificial phantasm of life he +had served so long. He felt in his own person the sufferings and death +he had witnessed on the battlefield. The heaviness of his head and +chest reminded him of the possibility of suffering and death for +himself. At that moment he did not desire Moscow, or victory, or glory +(what need had he for any more glory?). The one thing he wished for +was rest, tranquillity, and freedom. But when he had been on the +Semenovsk heights the artillery commander had proposed to him to bring +several batteries of artillery up to those heights to strengthen the +fire on the Russian troops crowded in front of Knyazkovo. Napoleon had +assented and had given orders that news should be brought to him of +the effect those batteries produced. + +An adjutant came now to inform him that the fire of two hundred guns +had been concentrated on the Russians, as he had ordered, but that +they still held their ground. + +"Our fire is mowing them down by rows, but still they hold on," said +the adjutant. + +"They want more!..." said Napoleon in a hoarse voice. + +"Sire?" asked the adjutant who had not heard the remark. + +"They want more!" croaked Napoleon frowning. "Let them have it!" + +Even before he gave that order the thing he did not desire, and +for which he gave the order only because he thought it was expected of +him, was being done. And he fell back into that artificial realm of +imaginary greatness, and again--as a horse walking a treadmill +thinks it is doing something for itself--he submissively fulfilled the +cruel, sad, gloomy, and inhuman role predestined for him. + +And not for that day and hour alone were the mind and conscience +darkened of this man on whom the responsibility for what was happening +lay more than on all the others who took part in it. Never to the +end of his life could he understand goodness, beauty, or truth, or the +significance of his actions which were too contrary to goodness and +truth, too remote from everything human, for him ever to be able to +grasp their meaning. He could not disavow his actions, belauded as +they were by half the world, and so he had to repudiate truth, +goodness, and all humanity. + +Not only on that day, as he rode over the battlefield strewn with +men killed and maimed (by his will as he believed), did he reckon as +he looked at them how many Russians there were for each Frenchman and, +deceiving himself, find reason for rejoicing in the calculation that +there were five Russians for every Frenchman. Not on that day alone +did he write in a letter to Paris that "the battle field was +superb," because fifty thousand corpses lay there, but even on the +island of St. Helena in the peaceful solitude where he said he +intended to devote his leisure to an account of the great deeds he had +done, he wrote: + + +The Russian war should have been the most popular war of modern +times: it was a war of good sense, for real interests, for the +tranquillity and security of all; it was purely pacific and +conservative. + +It was a war for a great cause, the end of uncertainties and the +beginning of security. A new horizon and new labors were opening +out, full of well-being and prosperity for all. The European system +was already founded; all that remained was to organize it. + +Satisfied on these great points and with tranquility everywhere, I +too should have had my Congress and my Holy Alliance. Those ideas were +stolen from me. In that reunion of great sovereigns we should have +discussed our interests like one family, and have rendered account +to the peoples as clerk to master. + +Europe would in this way soon have been, in fact, but one people, +and anyone who traveled anywhere would have found himself always in +the common fatherland. I should have demanded the freedom of all +navigable rivers for everybody, that the seas should be common to all, +and that the great standing armies should be reduced henceforth to +mere guards for the sovereigns. + +On returning to France, to the bosom of the great, strong, +magnificent, peaceful, and glorious fatherland, I should have +proclaimed her frontiers immutable; all future wars purely +defensive, all aggrandizement antinational. I should have associated +my son in the Empire; my dictatorship would have been finished, and +his constitutional reign would have begun. + +Paris would have been the capital of the world, and the French the +envy of the nations! + +My leisure then, and my old age, would have been devoted, in company +with the Empress and during the royal apprenticeship of my son, to +leisurely visiting, with our own horses and like a true country +couple, every corner of the Empire, receiving complaints, redressing +wrongs, and scattering public buildings and benefactions on all +sides and everywhere. + + +Napoleon, predestined by Providence for the gloomy role of +executioner of the peoples, assured himself that the aim of his +actions had been the peoples' welfare and that he could control the +fate of millions and by the employment of power confer benefactions. + + +"Of four hundred thousand who crossed the Vistula," he wrote further +of the Russian war, "half were Austrians, Prussians, Saxons, Poles, +Bavarians, Wurttembergers, Mecklenburgers, Spaniards, Italians, and +Neapolitans. The Imperial army, strictly speaking, was one third +composed of Dutch, Belgians, men from the borders of the Rhine, +Piedmontese, Swiss, Genevese, Tuscans, Romans, inhabitants of the +Thirty-second Military Division, of Bremen, of Hamburg, and so on: +it included scarcely a hundred and forty thousand who spoke French. +The Russian expedition actually cost France less than fifty thousand +men; the Russian army in its retreat from Vilna to Moscow lost in +the various battles four times more men than the French army; the +burning of Moscow cost the lives of a hundred thousand Russians who +died of cold and want in the woods; finally, in its march from +Moscow to the Oder the Russian army also suffered from the severity of +the season; so that by the time it reached Vilna it numbered +only fifty thousand, and at Kalisch less than eighteen thousand." + + +He imagined that the war with Russia came about by his will, and the +horrors that occurred did not stagger his soul. He boldly took the +whole responsibility for what happened, and his darkened mind found +justification in the belief that among the hundreds of thousands who +perished there were fewer Frenchmen than Hessians and Bavarians. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +Several tens of thousands of the slain lay in diverse postures and +various uniforms on the fields and meadows belonging to the Davydov +family and to the crown serfs--those fields and meadows where for +hundreds of years the peasants of Borodino, Gorki, Shevardino, and +Semenovsk had reaped their harvests and pastured their cattle. At +the dressing stations the grass and earth were soaked with blood for a +space of some three acres around. Crowds of men of various arms, +wounded and unwounded, with frightened faces, dragged themselves +back to Mozhaysk from the one army and back to Valuevo from the other. +Other crowds, exhausted and hungry, went forward led by their +officers. Others held their ground and continued to fire. + +Over the whole field, previously so gaily beautiful with the glitter +of bayonets and cloudlets of smoke in the morning sun, there now +spread a mist of damp and smoke and a strange acid smell of +saltpeter and blood. Clouds gathered and drops of rain began to fall +on the dead and wounded, on the frightened, exhausted, and +hesitating men, as if to say: "Enough, men! Enough! Cease... bethink +yourselves! What are you doing?" + +To the men of both sides alike, worn out by want of food and rest, +it began equally to appear doubtful whether they should continue to +slaughter one another; all the faces expressed hesitation, and the +question arose in every soul: "For what, for whom, must I kill and +be killed?... You may go and kill whom you please, but I don't want to +do so anymore!" By evening this thought had ripened in every soul. +At any moment these men might have been seized with horror at what +they were doing and might have thrown up everything and run away +anywhere. + +But though toward the end of the battle the men felt all the +horror of what they were doing, though they would have been glad to +leave off, some incomprehensible, mysterious power continued to +control them, and they still brought up the charges, loaded, aimed, +and applied the match, though only one artilleryman survived out of +every three, and though they stumbled and panted with fatigue, +perspiring and stained with blood and powder. The cannon balls flew +just as swiftly and cruelly from both sides, crushing human bodies, +and that terrible work which was not done by the will of a man but +at the will of Him who governs men and worlds continued. + +Anyone looking at the disorganized rear of the Russian army would +have said that, if only the French made one more slight effort, it +would disappear; and anyone looking at the rear of the French army +would have said that the Russians need only make one more slight +effort and the French would be destroyed. But neither the French nor +the Russians made that effort, and the flame of battle burned slowly +out. + +The Russians did not make that effort because they were not +attacking the French. At the beginning of the battle they stood +blocking the way to Moscow and they still did so at the end of the +battle as at the beginning. But even had the aim of the Russians +been to drive the French from their positions, they could not have +made this last effort, for all the Russian troops had been broken +up, there was no part of the Russian army that had not suffered in the +battle, and though still holding their positions they had lost ONE +HALF of their army. + +The French, with the memory of all their former victories during +fifteen years, with the assurance of Napoleon's invincibility, with +the consciousness that they had captured part of the battlefield and +had lost only a quarter of their men and still had their Guards +intact, twenty thousand strong, might easily have made that effort. +The French who had attacked the Russian army in order to drive it from +its position ought to have made that effort, for as long as the +Russians continued to block the road to Moscow as before, the aim of +the French had not been attained and all their efforts and losses were +in vain. But the French did not make that effort. Some historians say +that Napoleon need only have used his Old Guards, who were intact, and +the battle would have been won. To speak of what would have happened +had Napoleon sent his Guards is like talking of what would happen if +autumn became spring. It could not be. Napoleon did not give his +Guards, not because he did not want to, but because it could not be +done. All the generals, officers, and soldiers of the French army knew +it could not be done, because the flagging spirit of the troops would +not permit it. + +It was not Napoleon alone who had experienced that nightmare feeling +of the mighty arm being stricken powerless, but all the generals and +soldiers of his army whether they had taken part in the battle or not, +after all their experience of previous battles--when after one tenth +of such efforts the enemy had fled--experienced a similar feeling of +terror before an enemy who, after losing HALF his men, stood as +threateningly at the end as at the beginning of the battle. The +moral force of the attacking French army was exhausted. Not that +sort of victory which is defined by the capture of pieces of +material fastened to sticks, called standards, and of the ground on +which the troops had stood and were standing, but a moral victory that +convinces the enemy of the moral superiority of his opponent and of +his own impotence was gained by the Russians at Borodino. The French +invaders, like an infuriated animal that has in its onslaught received +a mortal wound, felt that they were perishing, but could not stop, any +more than the Russian army, weaker by one half, could help swerving. +By impetus gained, the French army was still able to roll forward to +Moscow, but there, without further effort on the part of the Russians, +it had to perish, bleeding from the mortal wound it had received at +Borodino. The direct consequence of the battle of Borodino was +Napoleon's senseless flight from Moscow, his retreat along the old +Smolensk road, the destruction of the invading army of five hundred +thousand men, and the downfall of Napoleonic France, on which at +Borodino for the first time the hand of an opponent of stronger spirit +had been laid. + + + + + +BOOK ELEVEN: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Absolute continuity of motion is not comprehensible to the human +mind. Laws of motion of any kind become comprehensible to man only +when he examines arbitrarily selected elements of that motion; but +at the same time, a large proportion of human error comes from the +arbitrary division of continuous motion into discontinuous elements. +There is a well known, so-called sophism of the ancients consisting in +this, that Achilles could never catch up with a tortoise he was +following, in spite of the fact that he traveled ten times as fast +as the tortoise. By the time Achilles has covered the distance that +separated him from the tortoise, the tortoise has covered one tenth of +that distance ahead of him: when Achilles has covered that tenth, +the tortoise has covered another one hundredth, and so on forever. +This problem seemed to the ancients insoluble. The absurd answer (that +Achilles could never overtake the tortoise) resulted from this: that +motion was arbitrarily divided into discontinuous elements, whereas +the motion both of Achilles and of the tortoise was continuous. + +By adopting smaller and smaller elements of motion we only +approach a solution of the problem, but never reach it. Only when we +have admitted the conception of the infinitely small, and the +resulting geometrical progression with a common ratio of one tenth, +and have found the sum of this progression to infinity, do we reach +a solution of the problem. + +A modern branch of mathematics having achieved the art of dealing +with the infinitely small can now yield solutions in other more +complex problems of motion which used to appear insoluble. + +This modern branch of mathematics, unknown to the ancients, when +dealing with problems of motion admits the conception of the +infinitely small, and so conforms to the chief condition of motion +(absolute continuity) and thereby corrects the inevitable error +which the human mind cannot avoid when it deals with separate elements +of motion instead of examining continuous motion. + +In seeking the laws of historical movement just the same thing +happens. The movement of humanity, arising as it does from innumerable +arbitrary human wills, is continuous. + +To understand the laws of this continuous movement is the aim of +history. But to arrive at these laws, resulting from the sum of all +those human wills, man's mind postulates arbitrary and disconnected +units. The first method of history is to take an arbitrarily +selected series of continuous events and examine it apart from others, +though there is and can be no beginning to any event, for one event +always flows uninterruptedly from another. + +The second method is to consider the actions of some one man--a king +or a commander--as equivalent to the sum of many individual wills; +whereas the sum of individual wills is never expressed by the activity +of a single historic personage. + +Historical science in its endeavor to draw nearer to truth +continually takes smaller and smaller units for examination. But +however small the units it takes, we feel that to take any unit +disconnected from others, or to assume a beginning of any +phenomenon, or to say that the will of many men is expressed by the +actions of any one historic personage, is in itself false. + +It needs no critical exertion to reduce utterly to dust any +deductions drawn from history. It is merely necessary to select some +larger or smaller unit as the subject of observation--as criticism has +every right to do, seeing that whatever unit history observes must +always be arbitrarily selected. + +Only by taking infinitesimally small units for observation (the +differential of history, that is, the individual tendencies of men) +and attaining to the art of integrating them (that is, finding the sum +of these infinitesimals) can we hope to arrive at the laws of history. + +The first fifteen years of the nineteenth century in Europe +present an extraordinary movement of millions of people. Men leave +their customary pursuits, hasten from one side of Europe to the other, +plunder and slaughter one another, triumph and are plunged in despair, +and for some years the whole course of life is altered and presents an +intensive movement which first increases and then slackens. What was +the cause of this movement, by what laws was it governed? asks the +mind of man. + +The historians, replying to this question, lay before us the sayings +and doings of a few dozen men in a building in the city of Paris, +calling these sayings and doings "the Revolution"; then they give a +detailed biography of Napoleon and of certain people favorable or +hostile to him; tell of the influence some of these people had on +others, and say: that is why this movement took place and those are +its laws. + +But the mind of man not only refuses to believe this explanation, +but plainly says that this method of explanation is fallacious, +because in it a weaker phenomenon is taken as the cause of a stronger. +The sum of human wills produced the Revolution and Napoleon, and +only the sum of those wills first tolerated and then destroyed them. + +"But every time there have been conquests there have been +conquerors; every time there has been a revolution in any state +there have been great men," says history. And, indeed, human reason +replies: every time conquerors appear there have been wars, but this +does not prove that the conquerors caused the wars and that it is +possible to find the laws of a war in the personal activity of a +single man. Whenever I look at my watch and its hands point to ten, +I hear the bells of the neighboring church; but because the bells +begin to ring when the hands of the clock reach ten, I have no right +to assume that the movement of the bells is caused by the position +of the hands of the watch. + +Whenever I see the movement of a locomotive I hear the whistle and +see the valves opening and wheels turning; but I have no right to +conclude that the whistling and the turning of wheels are the cause of +the movement of the engine. + +The peasants say that a cold wind blows in late spring because the +oaks are budding, and really every spring cold winds do blow when +the oak is budding. But though I do not know what causes the cold +winds to blow when the oak buds unfold, I cannot agree with the +peasants that the unfolding of the oak buds is the cause of the cold +wind, for the force of the wind is beyond the influence of the buds. I +see only a coincidence of occurrences such as happens with all the +phenomena of life, and I see that however much and however carefully I +observe the hands of the watch, and the valves and wheels of the +engine, and the oak, I shall not discover the cause of the bells +ringing, the engine moving, or of the winds of spring. To that I +must entirely change my point of view and study the laws of the +movement of steam, of the bells, and of the wind. History must do +the same. And attempts in this direction have already been made. + +To study the laws of history we must completely change the subject of +our observation, must leave aside kings, ministers, and generals, and +study the common, infinitesimally small elements by which the masses +are moved. No one can say in how far it is possible for man to advance +in this way toward an understanding of the laws of history; but it is +evident that only along that path does the possibility of discovering +the laws of history lie, and that as yet not a millionth part as much +mental effort has been applied in this direction by historians as has +been devoted to describing the actions of various kings, commanders, +and ministers and propounding the historians' own reflections +concerning these actions. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The forces of a dozen European nations burst into Russia. The +Russian army and people avoided a collision till Smolensk was reached, +and again from Smolensk to Borodino. The French army pushed on to +Moscow, its goal, its impetus ever increasing as it neared its aim, +just as the velocity of a falling body increases as it approaches +the earth. Behind it were seven hundred miles of hunger-stricken, +hostile country; ahead were a few dozen miles separating it from its +goal. Every soldier in Napoleon's army felt this and the invasion +moved on by its own momentum. + +The more the Russian army retreated the more fiercely a spirit of +hatred of the enemy flared up, and while it retreated the army +increased and consolidated. At Borodino a collision took place. +Neither army was broken up, but the Russian army retreated immediately +after the collision as inevitably as a ball recoils after colliding +with another having a greater momentum, and with equal inevitability +the ball of invasion that had advanced with such momentum rolled on +for some distance, though the collision had deprived it of all its +force. + +The Russians retreated eighty miles--to beyond Moscow--and the +French reached Moscow and there came to a standstill. For five weeks +after that there was not a single battle. The French did not move. +As a bleeding, mortally wounded animal licks its wounds, they remained +inert in Moscow for five weeks, and then suddenly, with no fresh +reason, fled back: they made a dash for the Kaluga road, and (after +a victory--for at Malo-Yaroslavets the field of conflict again +remained theirs) without undertaking a single serious battle, they +fled still more rapidly back to Smolensk, beyond Smolensk, beyond +the Berezina, beyond Vilna, and farther still. + +On the evening of the twenty-sixth of August, Kutuzov and the +whole Russian army were convinced that the battle of Borodino was a +victory. Kutuzov reported so to the Emperor. He gave orders to prepare +for a fresh conflict to finish the enemy and did this not to deceive +anyone, but because he knew that the enemy was beaten, as everyone who +had taken part in the battle knew it. + +But all that evening and next day reports came in one after +another of unheard-of losses, of the loss of half the army, and a +fresh battle proved physically impossible. + +It was impossible to give battle before information had been +collected, the wounded gathered in, the supplies of ammunition +replenished, the slain reckoned up, new officers appointed to +replace those who had been killed, and before the men had had food and +sleep. And meanwhile, the very next morning after the battle, the +French army advanced of itself upon the Russians, carried forward by +the force of its own momentum now seemingly increased in inverse +proportion to the square of the distance from its aim. Kutuzov's +wish was to attack next day, and the whole army desired to do so. +But to make an attack the wish to do so is not sufficient, there +must also be a possibility of doing it, and that possibility did not +exist. It was impossible not to retreat a day's march, and then in the +same way it was impossible not to retreat another and a third day's +march, and at last, on the first of September when the army drew +near Moscow--despite the strength of the feeling that had arisen in +all ranks--the force of circumstances compelled it to retire beyond +Moscow. And the troops retired one more, last, day's march, and +abandoned Moscow to the enemy. + +For people accustomed to think that plans of campaign and battles are +made by generals--as any one of us sitting over a map in his study may +imagine how he would have arranged things in this or that battle--the +questions present themselves: Why did Kutuzov during the retreat not +do this or that? Why did he not take up a position before reaching +Fili? Why did he not retire at once by the Kaluga road, abandoning +Moscow? and so on. People accustomed to think in that way forget, or +do not know, the inevitable conditions which always limit the +activities of any commander in chief. The activity of a commander in +chief does not at all resemble the activity we imagine to ourselves +when we sit at ease in our studies examining some campaign on the map, +with a certain number of troops on this and that side in a certain +known locality, and begin our plans from some given moment. A +commander in chief is never dealing with the beginning of any +event--the position from which we always contemplate it. The commander +in chief is always in the midst of a series of shifting events and so +he never can at any moment consider the whole import of an event that +is occurring. Moment by moment the event is imperceptibly shaping +itself, and at every moment of this continuous, uninterrupted shaping +of events the commander in chief is in the midst of a most complex +play of intrigues, worries, contingencies, authorities, projects, +counsels, threats, and deceptions and is continually obliged to reply +to innumerable questions addressed to him, which constantly conflict +with one another. + +Learned military authorities quite seriously tell us that Kutuzov +should have moved his army to the Kaluga road long before reaching +Fili, and that somebody actually submitted such a proposal to him. But +a commander in chief, especially at a difficult moment, has always +before him not one proposal but dozens simultaneously. And all these +proposals, based on strategics and tactics, contradict each other. + +A commander in chief's business, it would seem, is simply to +choose one of these projects. But even that he cannot do. Events and +time do not wait. For instance, on the twenty-eighth it is suggested +to him to cross to the Kaluga road, but just then an adjutant +gallops up from Miloradovich asking whether he is to engage the French +or retire. An order must be given him at once, that instant. And the +order to retreat carries us past the turn to the Kaluga road. And +after the adjutant comes the commissary general asking where the +stores are to be taken, and the chief of the hospitals asks where +the wounded are to go, and a courier from Petersburg brings a letter +from the sovereign which does not admit of the possibility of +abandoning Moscow, and the commander in chief's rival, the man who +is undermining him (and there are always not merely one but several +such), presents a new project diametrically opposed to that of turning +to the Kaluga road, and the commander in chief himself needs sleep and +refreshment to maintain his energy and a respectable general who has +been overlooked in the distribution of rewards comes to complain, +and the inhabitants of the district pray to be defended, and an +officer sent to inspect the locality comes in and gives a report quite +contrary to what was said by the officer previously sent; and a spy, a +prisoner, and a general who has been on reconnaissance, all describe +the position of the enemy's army differently. People accustomed to +misunderstand or to forget these inevitable conditions of a +commander in chief's actions describe to us, for instance, the +position of the army at Fili and assume that the commander in chief +could, on the first of September, quite freely decide whether to +abandon Moscow or defend it; whereas, with the Russian army less +than four miles from Moscow, no such question existed. When had that +question been settled? At Drissa and at Smolensk and most palpably +of all on the twenty-fourth of August at Shevardino and on the +twenty-sixth at Borodino, and each day and hour and minute of the +retreat from Borodino to Fili. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +When Ermolov, having been sent by Kutuzov to inspect the position, +told the field marshal that it was impossible to fight there before +Moscow and that they must retreat, Kutuzov looked at him in silence. + +"Give me your hand," said he and, turning it over so as to feel +the pulse, added: "You are not well, my dear fellow. Think what you +are saying!" + +Kutuzov could not yet admit the possibility of retreating beyond +Moscow without a battle. + +On the Poklonny Hill, four miles from the Dorogomilov gate of +Moscow, Kutuzov got out of his carriage and sat down on a bench by the +roadside. A great crowd of generals gathered round him, and Count +Rostopchin, who had come out from Moscow, joined them. This +brilliant company separated into several groups who all discussed +the advantages and disadvantages of the position, the state of the +army, the plans suggested, the situation of Moscow, and military +questions generally. Though they had not been summoned for the +purpose, and though it was not so called, they all felt that this +was really a council of war. The conversations all dealt with public +questions. If anyone gave or asked for personal news, it was done in a +whisper and they immediately reverted to general matters. No jokes, or +laughter, or smiles even, were seen among all these men. They +evidently all made an effort to hold themselves at the height the +situation demanded. And all these groups, while talking among +themselves, tried to keep near the commander in chief (whose bench +formed the center of the gathering) and to speak so that he might +overhear them. The commander in chief listened to what was being +said and sometimes asked them to repeat their remarks, but did not +himself take part in the conversations or express any opinion. After +hearing what was being said by one or other of these groups he +generally turned away with an air of disappointment, as though they +were not speaking of anything he wished to hear. Some discussed the +position that had been chosen, criticizing not the position itself +so much as the mental capacity of those who had chosen it. Others +argued that a mistake had been made earlier and that a battle should +have been fought two days before. Others again spoke of the battle +of Salamanca, which was described by Crosart, a newly arrived +Frenchman in a Spanish uniform. (This Frenchman and one of the +German princes serving with the Russian army were discussing the siege +of Saragossa and considering the possibility of defending Moscow in +a similar manner.) Count Rostopchin was telling a fourth group that he +was prepared to die with the city train bands under the walls of the +capital, but that he still could not help regretting having been +left in ignorance of what was happening, and that had he known it +sooner things would have been different.... A fifth group, +displaying the profundity of their strategic perceptions, discussed +the direction the troops would now have to take. A sixth group was +talking absolute nonsense. Kutuzov's expression grew more and more +preoccupied and gloomy. From all this talk he saw only one thing: that +to defend Moscow was a physical impossibility in the full meaning of +those words, that is to say, so utterly impossible that if any +senseless commander were to give orders to fight, confusion would +result but the battle would still not take place. It would not take +place because the commanders not merely all recognized the position to +be impossible, but in their conversations were only discussing what +would happen after its inevitable abandonment. How could the +commanders lead their troops to a field of battle they considered +impossible to hold? The lower-grade officers and even the soldiers +(who too reason) also considered the position impossible and therefore +could not go to fight, fully convinced as they were of defeat. If +Bennigsen insisted on the position being defended and others still +discussed it, the question was no longer important in itself but +only as a pretext for disputes and intrigue. This Kutuzov knew well. + +Bennigsen, who had chosen the position, warmly displayed his Russian +patriotism (Kutuzov could not listen to this without wincing) by +insisting that Moscow must be defended. His aim was as clear as +daylight to Kutuzov: if the defense failed, to throw the blame on +Kutuzov who had brought the army as far as the Sparrow Hills without +giving battle; if it succeeded, to claim the success as his own; or if +battle were not given, to clear himself of the crime of abandoning +Moscow. But this intrigue did not now occupy the old man's mind. One +terrible question absorbed him and to that question he heard no +reply from anyone. The question for him now was: "Have I really +allowed Napoleon to reach Moscow, and when did I do so? When was it +decided? Can it have been yesterday when I ordered Platov to +retreat, or was it the evening before, when I had a nap and told +Bennigsen to issue orders? Or was it earlier still?... When, when +was this terrible affair decided? Moscow must be abandoned. The army +must retreat and the order to do so must be given." To give that +terrible order seemed to him equivalent to resigning the command of +the army. And not only did he love power to which he was accustomed +(the honours awarded to Prince Prozorovski, under whom he had served +in Turkey, galled him), but he was convinced that he was destined to +save Russia and that that was why, against the Emperor's wish and by +the will of the people, he had been chosen commander in chief. He +was convinced that he alone could maintain command of the army in +these difficult circumstances, and that in all the world he alone +could encounter the invincible Napoleon without fear, and he was +horrified at the thought of the order he had to issue. But something +had to be decided, and these conversations around him which were +assuming too free a character must be stopped. + +He called the most important generals to him. + +"My head, be it good or bad, must depend on itself," said he, rising +from the bench, and he rode to Fili where his carriages were waiting. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The Council of War began to assemble at two in the afternoon in +the better and roomier part of Andrew Savostyanov's hut. The men, +women, and children of the large peasant family crowded into the +back room across the passage. Only Malasha, Andrew's six-year-old +granddaughter whom his Serene Highness had petted and to whom he had +given a lump of sugar while drinking his tea, remained on the top of +the brick oven in the larger room. Malasha looked down from the oven +with shy delight at the faces, uniforms, and decorations of the +generals, who one after another came into the room and sat down on the +broad benches in the corner under the icons. "Granddad" himself, as +Malasha in her own mind called Kutuzov, sat apart in a dark corner +behind the oven. He sat, sunk deep in a folding armchair, and +continually cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his coat +which, though it was unbuttoned, still seemed to pinch his neck. Those +who entered went up one by one to the field marshal; he pressed the +hands of some and nodded to others. His adjutant Kaysarov was about to +draw back the curtain of the window facing Kutuzov, but the latter +moved his hand angrily and Kaysarov understood that his Serene +Highness did not wish his face to be seen. + +Round the peasant's deal table, on which lay maps, plans, pencils, +and papers, so many people gathered that the orderlies brought in +another bench and put it beside the table. Ermolov, Kaysarov, and +Toll, who had just arrived, sat down on this bench. In the foremost +place, immediately under the icons, sat Barclay de Tolly, his high +forehead merging into his bald crown. He had a St. George's Cross +round his neck and looked pale and ill. He had been feverish for two +days and was now shivering and in pain. Beside him sat Uvarov, who +with rapid gesticulations was giving him some information, speaking in +low tones as they all did. Chubby little Dokhturov was listening +attentively with eyebrows raised and arms folded on his stomach. On +the other side sat Count Ostermann-Tolstoy, seemingly absorbed in +his own thoughts. His broad head with its bold features and glittering +eyes was resting on his hand. Raevski, twitching forward the black +hair on his temples as was his habit, glanced now at Kutuzov and now +at the door with a look of impatience. Konovnitsyn's firm, handsome, +and kindly face was lit up by a tender, sly smile. His glance met +Malasha's, and the expression of his eyes caused the little girl to +smile. + +They were all waiting for Bennigsen, who on the pretext of +inspecting the position was finishing his savory dinner. They waited +for him from four till six o'clock and did not begin their +deliberations all that time but talked in low tones of other matters. + +Only when Bennigsen had entered the hut did Kutuzov leave his corner +and draw toward the table, but not near enough for the candles that +had been placed there to light up his face. + +Bennigsen opened the council with the question: "Are we to abandon +Russia's ancient and sacred capital without a struggle, or are we to +defend it?" A prolonged and general silence followed. There was a +frown on every face and only Kutuzov's angry grunts and occasional +cough broke the silence. All eyes were gazing at him. Malasha too +looked at "Granddad." She was nearest to him and saw how his face +puckered; he seemed about to cry, but this did not last long. + +"Russia's ancient and sacred capital!" he suddenly said, repeating +Bennigsen's words in an angry voice and thereby drawing attention to +the false note in them. "Allow me to tell you, your excellency, that +that question has no meaning for a Russian." (He lurched his heavy +body forward.) "Such a question cannot be put; it is senseless! The +question I have asked these gentlemen to meet to discuss is a military +one. The question is that of saving Russia. Is it better to give up +Moscow without a battle, or by accepting battle to risk losing the +army as well as Moscow? That is the question on which I want your +opinion," and he sank back in his chair. + +The discussion began. Bennigsen did not yet consider his game +lost. Admitting the view of Barclay and others that a defensive battle +at Fili was impossible, but imbued with Russian patriotism and the +love of Moscow, he proposed to move troops from the right to the +left flank during the night and attack the French right flank the +following day. Opinions were divided, and arguments were advanced +for and against that project. Ermolov, Dokhturov, and Raevski agreed +with Bennigsen. Whether feeling it necessary to make a sacrifice +before abandoning the capital or guided by other, personal +considerations, these generals seemed not to understand that this +council could not alter the inevitable course of events and that +Moscow was in effect already abandoned. The other generals, however, +understood it and, leaving aside the question of Moscow, spoke of the +direction the army should take in its retreat. Malasha, who kept her +eyes fixed on what was going on before her, understood the meaning +of the council differently. It seemed to her that it was only a +personal struggle between "Granddad" and "Long-coat" as she termed +Bennigsen. She saw that they grew spiteful when they spoke to one +another, and in her heart she sided with "Granddad." In the midst of +the conversation she noticed "Granddad" give Bennigsen a quick, subtle +glance, and then to her joys he saw that "Granddad" said something +to "Long-coat" which settled him. Bennigsen suddenly reddened and +paced angrily up and down the room. What so affected him was Kutuzov's +calm and quiet comment on the advantage or disadvantage of Bennigsen's +proposal to move troops by night from the right to the left flank to +attack the French right wing. + +"Gentlemen," said Kutuzov, "I cannot approve of the count's plan. +Moving troops in close proximity to an enemy is always dangerous, +and military history supports that view. For instance..." Kutuzov +seemed to reflect, searching for an example, then with a clear, +naive look at Bennigsen he added: "Oh yes; take the battle of +Friedland, which I think the count well remembers, and which was... +not fully successful, only because our troops were rearranged too near +the enemy..." + +There followed a momentary pause, which seemed very long to them +all. + +The discussion recommenced, but pauses frequently occurred and +they all felt that there was no more to be said. + +During one of these pauses Kutuzov heaved a deep sigh as if +preparing to speak. They all looked at him. + +"Well, gentlemen, I see that it is I who will have to pay for the +broken crockery," said he, and rising slowly he moved to the table. +"Gentlemen, I have heard your views. Some of you will not agree with +me. But I," he paused, "by the authority entrusted to me by my +Sovereign and country, order a retreat." + +After that the generals began to disperse with the solemnity and +circumspect silence of people who are leaving, after a funeral. + +Some of the generals, in low tones and in a strain very different +from the way they had spoken during the council, communicated +something to their commander in chief. + +Malasha, who had long been expected for supper, climbed carefully +backwards down from the oven, her bare little feet catching at its +projections, and slipping between the legs of the generals she +darted out of the room. + +When he had dismissed the generals Kutuzov sat a long time with +his elbows on the table, thinking always of the same terrible +question: "When, when did the abandonment of Moscow become inevitable? +When was that done which settled the matter? And who was to blame +for it?" + +"I did not expect this," said he to his adjutant Schneider when +the latter came in late that night. "I did not expect this! I did +not think this would happen." + +"You should take some rest, your Serene Highness," replied +Schneider. + +"But no! They shall eat horseflesh yet, like the Turks!" exclaimed +Kutuzov without replying, striking the table with his podgy fist. +"They shall too, if only..." + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +At that very time, in circumstances even more important than +retreating without a battle, namely the evacuation and burning of +Moscow, Rostopchin, who is usually represented as being the instigator +of that event, acted in an altogether different manner from Kutuzov. + +After the battle of Borodino the abandonment and burning of Moscow +was as inevitable as the retreat of the army beyond Moscow without +fighting. + +Every Russian might have predicted it, not by reasoning but by the +feeling implanted in each of us and in our fathers. + +The same thing that took place in Moscow had happened in all the +towns and villages on Russian soil beginning with Smolensk, without +the participation of Count Rostopchin and his broadsheets. The +people awaited the enemy unconcernedly, did not riot or become excited +or tear anyone to pieces, but faced its fate, feeling within it the +strength to find what it should do at that most difficult moment. +And as soon as the enemy drew near the wealthy classes went away +abandoning their property, while the poorer remained and burned and +destroyed what was left. + +The consciousness that this would be so and would always be so was +and is present in the heart of every Russian. And a consciousness of +this, and a foreboding that Moscow would be taken, was present in +Russian Moscow society in 1812. Those who had quitted Moscow already +in July and at the beginning of August showed that they expected this. +Those who went away, taking what they could and abandoning their +houses and half their belongings, did so from the latent patriotism +which expresses itself not by phrases or by giving one's children to +save the fatherland and similar unnatural exploits, but unobtrusively, +simply, organically, and therefore in the way that always produces the +most powerful results. + +"It is disgraceful to run away from danger; only cowards are running +away from Moscow," they were told. In his broadsheets Rostopchin +impressed on them that to leave Moscow was shameful. They were ashamed +to be called cowards, ashamed to leave, but still they left, knowing +it had to be done. Why did they go? It is impossible to suppose that +Rostopchin had scared them by his accounts of horrors Napoleon had +committed in conquered countries. The first people to go away were the +rich educated people who knew quite well that Vienna and Berlin had +remained intact and that during Napoleon's occupation the +inhabitants had spent their time pleasantly in the company of the +charming Frenchmen whom the Russians, and especially the Russian +ladies, then liked so much. + +They went away because for Russians there could be no question as to +whether things would go well or ill under French rule in Moscow. It +was out of the question to be under French rule, it would be the worst +thing that could happen. They went away even before the battle of +Borodino and still more rapidly after it, despite Rostopchin's calls +to defend Moscow or the announcement of his intention to take the +wonder-working icon of the Iberian Mother of God and go to fight, or +of the balloons that were to destroy the French, and despite all the +nonsense Rostopchin wrote in his broadsheets. They knew that it was +for the army to fight, and that if it could not succeed it would not +do to take young ladies and house serfs to the Three Hills quarter +of Moscow to fight Napoleon, and that they must go away, sorry as they +were to abandon their property to destruction. They went away +without thinking of the tremendous significance of that immense and +wealthy city being given over to destruction, for a great city with +wooden buildings was certain when abandoned by its inhabitants to be +burned. They went away each on his own account, and yet it was only in +consequence of their going away that the momentous event was +accomplished that will always remain the greatest glory of the Russian +people. The lady who, afraid of being stopped by Count Rostopchin's +orders, had already in June moved with her Negroes and her women +jesters from Moscow to her Saratov estate, with a vague +consciousness that she was not Bonaparte's servant, was really, +simply, and truly carrying out the great work which saved Russia. +But Count Rostopchin, who now taunted those who left Moscow and now +had the government offices removed; now distributed quite useless +weapons to the drunken rabble; now had processions displaying the +icons, and now forbade Father Augustin to remove icons or the relics +of saints; now seized all the private carts in Moscow and on one +hundred and thirty-six of them removed the balloon that was being +constructed by Leppich; now hinted that he would burn Moscow and +related how he had set fire to his own house; now wrote a proclamation +to the French solemnly upbraiding them for having destroyed his +Orphanage; now claimed the glory of having hinted that he would burn +Moscow and now repudiated the deed; now ordered the people to catch +all spies and bring them to him, and now reproached them for doing so; +now expelled all the French residents from Moscow, and now allowed +Madame Aubert-Chalme (the center of the whole French colony in Moscow) +to remain, but ordered the venerable old postmaster Klyucharev to be +arrested and exiled for no particular offense; now assembled the +people at the Three Hills to fight the French and now, to get rid of +them, handed over to them a man to be killed and himself drove away by +a back gate; now declared that he would not survive the fall of +Moscow, and now wrote French verses in albums concerning his share +in the affair--this man did not understand the meaning of what was +happening but merely wanted to do something himself that would +astonish people, to perform some patriotically heroic feat; and like a +child he made sport of the momentous, and unavoidable event--the +abandonment and burning of Moscow--and tried with his puny hand now to +speed and now to stay the enormous, popular tide that bore him along +with it. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Helene, having returned with the court from Vilna to Petersburg, +found herself in a difficult position. + +In Petersburg she had enjoyed the special protection of a grandee +who occupied one of the highest posts in the Empire. In Vilna she +had formed an intimacy with a young foreign prince. When she +returned to Petersburg both the magnate and the prince were there, and +both claimed their rights. Helene was faced by a new problem--how to +preserve her intimacy with both without offending either. + +What would have seemed difficult or even impossible to another woman +did not cause the least embarrassment to Countess Bezukhova, who +evidently deserved her reputation of being a very clever woman. Had +she attempted concealment, or tried to extricate herself from her +awkward position by cunning, she would have spoiled her case by +acknowledging herself guilty. But Helene, like a really great man +who can do whatever he pleases, at once assumed her own position to be +correct, as she sincerely believed it to be, and that everyone else +was to blame. + +The first time the young foreigner allowed himself to reproach +her, she lifted her beautiful head and, half turning to him, said +firmly: "That's just like a man--selfish and cruel! I expected nothing +else. A woman sacrifices herself for you, she suffers, and this is her +reward! What right have you, monseigneur, to demand an account of my +attachments and friendships? He is a man who has been more than a +father to me!" The prince was about to say something, but Helene +interrupted him. + +"Well, yes," said she, "it may be that he has other sentiments for +me than those of a father, but that is not a reason for me to shut +my door on him. I am not a man, that I should repay kindness with +ingratitude! Know, monseigneur, that in all that relates to my +intimate feelings I render account only to God and to my +conscience," she concluded, laying her hand on her beautiful, fully +expanded bosom and looking up to heaven. + +"But for heaven's sake listen to me!" + +"Marry me, and I will be your slave!" + +"But that's impossible." + +"You won't deign to demean yourself by marrying me, you..." said +Helene, beginning to cry. + +The prince tried to comfort her, but Helene, as if quite distraught, +said through her tears that there was nothing to prevent her marrying, +that there were precedents (there were up to that time very few, but +she mentioned Napoleon and some other exalted personages), that she +had never been her husband's wife, and that she had been sacrificed. + +"But the law, religion..." said the prince, already yielding. + +"The law, religion... What have they been invented for if they can't +arrange that?" said Helene. + +The prince was surprised that so simple an idea had not occurred +to him, and he applied for advice to the holy brethren of the +Society of Jesus, with whom he was on intimate terms. + +A few days later at one of those enchanting fetes which Helene +gave at her country house on the Stone Island, the charming Monsieur +de Jobert, a man no longer young, with snow white hair and brilliant +black eyes, a Jesuit a robe courte* was presented to her, and in the +garden by the light of the illuminations and to the sound of music +talked to her for a long time of the love of God, of Christ, of the +Sacred Heart, and of the consolations the one true Catholic religion +affords in this world and the next. Helene was touched, and more +than once tears rose to her eyes and to those of Monsieur de Jobert +and their voices trembled. A dance, for which her partner came to seek +her, put an end to her discourse with her future directeur de +conscience, but the next evening Monsieur de Jobert came to see Helene +when she was alone, and after that often came again. + + +*Lay member of the Society of Jesus. + + +One day he took the countess to a Roman Catholic church, where she +knelt down before the altar to which she was led. The enchanting, +middle-aged Frenchman laid his hands on her head and, as she herself +afterward described it, she felt something like a fresh breeze +wafted into her soul. It was explained to her that this was la grace. + +After that a long-frocked abbe was brought to her. She confessed +to him, and he absolved her from her sins. Next day she received a box +containing the Sacred Host, which was left at her house for her to +partake of. A few days later Helene learned with pleasure that she had +now been admitted to the true Catholic Church and that in a few days +the Pope himself would hear of her and would send her a certain +document. + +All that was done around her and to her at this time, all the +attention devoted to her by so many clever men and expressed in such +pleasant, refined ways, and the state of dove-like purity she was now +in (she wore only white dresses and white ribbons all that time) gave +her pleasure, but her pleasure did not cause her for a moment to +forget her aim. And as it always happens in contests of cunning that a +stupid person gets the better of cleverer ones, Helene--having +realized that the main object of all these words and all this trouble +was, after converting her to Catholicism, to obtain money from her for +Jesuit institutions (as to which she received indications)-before +parting with her money insisted that the various operations necessary +to free her from her husband should be performed. In her view the aim +of every religion was merely to preserve certain proprieties while +affording satisfaction to human desires. And with this aim, in one of +her talks with her Father Confessor, she insisted on an answer to the +question, in how far was she bound by her marriage? + +They were sitting in the twilight by a window in the drawing room. +The scent of flowers came in at the window. Helene was wearing a white +dress, transparent over her shoulders and bosom. The abbe, a +well-fed man with a plump, clean-shaven chin, a pleasant firm mouth, +and white hands meekly folded on his knees, sat close to Helene and, +with a subtle smile on his lips and a peaceful look of delight at +her beauty, occasionally glanced at her face as he explained his +opinion on the subject. Helene with an uneasy smile looked at his +curly hair and his plump, clean-shaven, blackish cheeks and every +moment expected the conversation to take a fresh turn. But the abbe, +though he evidently enjoyed the beauty of his companion, was +absorbed in his mastery of the matter. + +The course of the Father Confessor's arguments ran as follows: +"Ignorant of the import of what you were undertaking, you made a vow +of conjugal fidelity to a man who on his part, by entering the married +state without faith in the religious significance of marriage, +committed an act of sacrilege. That marriage lacked the dual +significance it should have had. Yet in spite of this your vow was +binding. You swerved from it. What did you commit by so acting? A +venial, or a mortal, sin? A venial sin, for you acted without evil +intention. If now you married again with the object of bearing +children, your sin might be forgiven. But the question is again a +twofold one: firstly..." + +But suddenly Helene, who was getting bored, said with one of her +bewitching smiles: "But I think that having espoused the true religion +I cannot be bound by what a false religion laid upon me." + +The director of her conscience was astounded at having the case +presented to him thus with the simplicity of Columbus' egg. He was +delighted at the unexpected rapidity of his pupil's progress, but +could not abandon the edifice of argument he had laboriously +constructed. + +"Let us understand one another, Countess," said he with a smile, and +began refuting his spiritual daughter's arguments. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Helene understood that the question was very simple and easy from +the ecclesiastical point of view, and that her directors were making +difficulties only because they were apprehensive as to how the +matter would be regarded by the secular authorities. + +So she decided that it was necessary to prepare the opinion of +society. She provoked the jealousy of the elderly magnate and told him +what she had told her other suitor; that is, she put the matter so +that the only way for him to obtain a right over her was to marry her. +The elderly magnate was at first as much taken aback by this +suggestion of marriage with a woman whose husband was alive, as the +younger man had been, but Helene's imperturbable conviction that it +was as simple and natural as marrying a maiden had its effect on him +too. Had Helene herself shown the least sign of hesitation, shame, +or secrecy, her cause would certainly have been lost; but not only did +she show no signs of secrecy or shame, on the contrary, with +good-natured naivete she told her intimate friends (and these were all +Petersburg) that both the prince and the magnate had proposed to her +and that she loved both and was afraid of grieving either. + +A rumor immediately spread in Petersburg, not that Helene wanted +to be divorced from her husband (had such a report spread many would +have opposed so illegal an intention) but simply that the +unfortunate and interesting Helene was in doubt which of the two men +she should marry. The question was no longer whether this was +possible, but only which was the better match and how the matter would +be regarded at court. There were, it is true, some rigid individuals +unable to rise to the height of such a question, who saw in the +project a desecration of the sacrament of marriage, but there were not +many such and they remained silent, while the majority were interested +in Helene's good fortune and in the question which match would be +the more advantageous. Whether it was right or wrong to remarry +while one had a husband living they did not discuss, for that question +had evidently been settled by people "wiser than you or me," as they +said, and to doubt the correctness of that decision would be to risk +exposing one's stupidity and incapacity to live in society. + +Only Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, who had come to Petersburg that +summer to see one of her sons, allowed herself plainly to express an +opinion contrary to the general one. Meeting Helene at a ball she +stopped her in the middle of the room and, amid general silence, +said in her gruff voice: "So wives of living men have started marrying +again! Perhaps you think you have invented a novelty? You have been +forestalled, my dear! It was thought of long ago. It is done in all +the brothels," and with these words Marya Dmitrievna, turning up her +wide sleeves with her usual threatening gesture and glancing sternly +round, moved across the room. + +Though people were afraid of Marya Dmitrievna she was regarded in +Petersburg as a buffoon, and so of what she had said they only +noticed, and repeated in a whisper, the one coarse word she had +used, supposing the whole sting of her remark to lie in that word. + +Prince Vasili, who of late very often forgot what he had said and +repeated one and the same thing a hundred times, remarked to his +daughter whenever he chanced to see her: + +"Helene, I have a word to say to you," and he would lead her +aside, drawing her hand downward. "I have heard of certain projects +concerning... you know. Well my dear child, you know how your father's +heart rejoices to know that you... You have suffered so much.... +But, my dear child, consult only your own heart. That is all I have to +say," and concealing his unvarying emotion he would press his cheek +against his daughter's and move away. + +Bilibin, who had not lost his reputation of an exceedingly clever man, +and who was one of the disinterested friends so brilliant a woman as +Helene always has--men friends who can never change into lovers--once +gave her his view of the matter at a small and intimate gathering. + +"Listen, Bilibin," said Helene (she always called friends of that +sort by their surnames), and she touched his coat sleeve with her +white, beringed fingers. "Tell me, as you would a sister, what I ought +to do. Which of the two?" + +Bilibin wrinkled up the skin over his eyebrows and pondered, with +a smile on his lips. + +"You are not taking me unawares, you know," said he. "As a true +friend, I have thought and thought again about your affair. You see, +if you marry the prince"--he meant the younger man--and he crooked one +finger, "you forever lose the chance of marrying the other, and you +will displease the court besides. (You know there is some kind of +connection.) But if you marry the old count you will make his last +days happy, and as widow of the Grand... the prince would no longer be +making a mesalliance by marrying you," and Bilibin smoothed out his +forehead. + +"That's a true friend!" said Helene beaming, and again touching +Bilibin's sleeve. "But I love them, you know, and don't want to +distress either of them. I would give my life for the happiness of +them both." + +Bilibin shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say that not even he +could help in that difficulty. + +"Une maitresse-femme!* That's what is called putting things +squarely. She would like to be married to all three at the same time," +thought he. + + +*A masterly woman. + + +"But tell me, how will your husband look at the matter?" Bilibin +asked, his reputation being so well established that he did not fear +to ask so naive a question. "Will he agree?" + +"Oh, he loves me so!" said Helene, who for some reason imagined that +Pierre too loved her. "He will do anything for me." + +Bilibin puckered his skin in preparation for something witty. + +"Even divorce you?" said he. + +Helene laughed. + +Among those who ventured to doubt the justifiability of the proposed +marriage was Helene's mother, Princess Kuragina. She was continually +tormented by jealousy of her daughter, and now that jealousy concerned +a subject near to her own heart, she could not reconcile herself to +the idea. She consulted a Russian priest as to the possibility of +divorce and remarriage during a husband's lifetime, and the priest +told her that it was impossible, and to her delight showed her a text +in the Gospel which (as it seemed to him) plainly forbids remarriage +while the husband is alive. + +Armed with these arguments, which appeared to her unanswerable, +she drove to her daughter's early one morning so as to find her alone. + +Having listened to her mother's objections, Helene smiled blandly +and ironically. + +"But it says plainly: 'Whosoever shall marry her that is +divorced...'" said the old princess. + +"Ah, Maman, ne dites pas de betises. Vous ne comprenez rein. Dans ma +position j'ai des devoirs,"* said Helene changing from Russian, in +which language she always felt that her case did not sound quite +clear, into French which suited it better. + + +*"Oh, Mamma, don't talk nonsense! You don't understand anything. +In my position I have obligations." + + +"But, my dear...." + +"Oh, Mamma, how is it you don't understand that the Holy Father, who +has the right to grant dispensations..." + +Just then the lady companion who lived with Helene came in to +announce that His Highness was in the ballroom and wished to see her. + +"Non, dites-lui que je ne veux pas le voir, que je suis furieuse +contre lui, parce qu'il m'a manque parole."* + + +*"No, tell him I don't wish to see him, I am furious with him for +not keeping his word to me." + + +"Comtesse, a tout peche misericorde,"* said a fair-haired young +man with a long face and nose, as he entered the room. + + +*"Countess, there is mercy for every sin." + + +The old princess rose respectfully and curtsied. The young man who +had entered took no notice of her. The princess nodded to her daughter +and sidled out of the room. + +"Yes, she is right," thought the old princess, all her convictions +dissipated by the appearance of His Highness. "She is right, but how +is it that we in our irrecoverable youth did not know it? Yet it is so +simple," she thought as she got into her carriage. + + +By the beginning of August Helene's affairs were clearly defined and +she wrote a letter to her husband--who, as she imagined, loved her +very much--informing him of her intention to marry N.N. and of her +having embraced the one true faith, and asking him to carry out all +the formalities necessary for a divorce, which would be explained to +him by the bearer of the letter. + + +And so I pray God to have you, my friend, in His holy and powerful +keeping--Your friend Helene. + + +This letter was brought to Pierre's house when he was on the field +of Borodino. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Toward the end of the battle of Borodino, Pierre, having run down +from Raevski's battery a second time, made his way through a gully +to Knyazkovo with a crowd of soldiers, reached the dressing station, +and seeing blood and hearing cries and groans hurried on, still +entangled in the crowds of soldiers. + +The one thing he now desired with his whole soul was to get away +quickly from the terrible sensations amid which he had lived that +day and return to ordinary conditions of life and sleep quietly in a +room in his own bed. He felt that only in the ordinary conditions of +life would he be able to understand himself and all he had seen and +felt. But such ordinary conditions of life were nowhere to be found. + +Though shells and bullets did not whistle over the road along +which he was going, still on all sides there was what there had been +on the field of battle. There were still the same suffering, +exhausted, and sometimes strangely indifferent faces, the same +blood, the same soldiers' overcoats, the same sounds of firing +which, though distant now, still aroused terror, and besides this +there were the foul air and the dust. + +Having gone a couple of miles along the Mozhaysk road, Pierre sat +down by the roadside. + +Dusk had fallen, and the roar of guns died away. Pierre lay +leaning on his elbow for a long time, gazing at the shadows that moved +past him in the darkness. He was continually imagining that a cannon +ball was flying toward him with a terrific whizz, and then he +shuddered and sat up. He had no idea how long he had been there. In +the middle of the night three soldiers, having brought some +firewood, settled down near him and began lighting a fire. + +The soldiers, who threw sidelong glances at Pierre, got the fire +to burn and placed an iron pot on it into which they broke some +dried bread and put a little dripping. The pleasant odor of greasy +viands mingled with the smell of smoke. Pierre sat up and sighed. +The three soldiers were eating and talking among themselves, taking no +notice of him. + +"And who may you be?" one of them suddenly asked Pierre, evidently +meaning what Pierre himself had in mind, namely: "If you want to eat +we'll give you some food, only let us know whether you are an honest +man." + +"I, I..." said Pierre, feeling it necessary to minimize his social +position as much as possible so as to be nearer to the soldiers and +better understood by them. "By rights I am a militia officer, but my +men are not here. I came to the battle and have lost them." + +"There now!" said one of the soldiers. + +Another shook his head. + +"Would you like a little mash?" the first soldier asked, and +handed Pierre a wooden spoon after licking it clean. + +Pierre sat down by the fire and began eating the mash, as they called +the food in the cauldron, and he thought it more delicious than any +food he had ever tasted. As he sat bending greedily over it, helping +himself to large spoonfuls and chewing one after another, his face was +lit up by the fire and the soldiers looked at him in silence. + +"Where have you to go to? Tell us!" said one of them. + +"To Mozhaysk." + +"You're a gentleman, aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +"And what's your name?" + +"Peter Kirilych." + +"Well then, Peter Kirilych, come along with us, we'll take you +there." + +In the total darkness the soldiers walked with Pierre to Mozhaysk. + +By the time they got near Mozhaysk and began ascending the steep +hill into the town, the cocks were already crowing. Pierre went on +with the soldiers, quite forgetting that his inn was at the bottom +of the hill and that he had already passed it. He would not soon +have remembered this, such was his state of forgetfulness, had he +not halfway up the hill stumbled upon his groom, who had been to +look for him in the town and was returning to the inn. The groom +recognized Pierre in the darkness by his white hat. + +"Your excellency!" he said. "Why, we were beginning to despair! +How is it you are on foot? And where are you going, please?" + +"Oh, yes!" said Pierre. + +The soldiers stopped. + +"So you've found your folk?" said one of them. "Well, good-by, Peter +Kirilych--isn't it?" + +"Good-by, Peter Kirilych!" Pierre heard the other voices repeat. + +"Good-by!" he said and turned with his groom toward the inn. + +"I ought to give them something!" he thought, and felt in his +pocket. "No, better not!" said another, inner voice. + +There was not a room to be had at the inn, they were all occupied. +Pierre went out into the yard and, covering himself up head and all, +lay down in his carriage. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Scarcely had Pierre laid his head on the pillow before he felt +himself falling asleep, but suddenly, almost with the distinctness +of reality, he heard the boom, boom, boom of firing, the thud of +projectiles, groans and cries, and smelled blood and powder, and a +feeling of horror and dread of death seized him. Filled with fright he +opened his eyes and lifted his head from under his cloak. All was +tranquil in the yard. Only someone's orderly passed through the +gateway, splashing through the mud, and talked to the innkeeper. Above +Pierre's head some pigeons, disturbed by the movement he had made in +sitting up, fluttered under the dark roof of the penthouse. The +whole courtyard was permeated by a strong peaceful smell of stable +yards, delightful to Pierre at that moment. He could see the clear +starry sky between the dark roofs of two penthouses. + +"Thank God, there is no more of that!" he thought, covering up his +head again. "Oh, what a terrible thing is fear, and how shamefully I +yielded to it! But they... they were steady and calm all the time, +to the end..." thought he. + +They, in Pierre's mind, were the soldiers, those who had been at the +battery, those who had given him food, and those who had prayed before +the icon. They, those strange men he had not previously known, stood +out clearly and sharply from everyone else. + +"To be a soldier, just a soldier!" thought Pierre as he fell asleep, +"to enter communal life completely, to be imbued by what makes them +what they are. But how cast off all the superfluous, devilish burden +of my outer man? There was a time when I could have done it. I could +have run away from my father, as I wanted to. Or I might have been +sent to serve as a soldier after the duel with Dolokhov." And the +memory of the dinner at the English Club when he had challenged +Dolokhov flashed through Pierre's mind, and then he remembered his +benefactor at Torzhok. And now a picture of a solemn meeting of the +lodge presented itself to his mind. It was taking place at the English +Club and someone near and dear to him sat at the end of the table. +"Yes, that is he! It is my benefactor. But he died!" thought Pierre. +"Yes, he died, and I did not know he was alive. How sorry I am that he +died, and how glad I am that he is alive again!" On one side of the +table sat Anatole, Dolokhov, Nesvitski, Denisov, and others like +them (in his dream the category to which these men belonged was as +clearly defined in his mind as the category of those he termed +they), and he heard those people, Anatole and Dolokhov, shouting and +singing loudly; yet through their shouting the voice of his benefactor +was heard speaking all the time and the sound of his words was as +weighty and uninterrupted as the booming on the battlefield, but +pleasant and comforting. Pierre did not understand what his benefactor +was saying, but he knew (the categories of thoughts were also quite +distinct in his dream) that he was talking of goodness and the +possibility of being what they were. And they with their simple, kind, +firm faces surrounded his benefactor on all sides. But though they +were kindly they did not look at Pierre and did not know him. +Wishing to speak and to attract their attention, he got up, but at +that moment his legs grew cold and bare. + +He felt ashamed, and with one arm covered his legs from which his +cloak had in fact slipped. For a moment as he was rearranging his +cloak Pierre opened his eyes and saw the same penthouse roofs, +posts, and yard, but now they were all bluish, lit up, and +glittering with frost or dew. + +"It is dawn," thought Pierre. "But that's not what I want. I want to +hear and understand my benefactor's words." Again he covered himself +up with his cloak, but now neither the lodge nor his benefactor was +there. There were only thoughts clearly expressed in words, thoughts +that someone was uttering or that he himself was formulating. + +Afterwards when he recalled those thoughts Pierre was convinced that +someone outside himself had spoken them, though the impressions of +that day had evoked them. He had never, it seemed to him, been able to +think and express his thoughts like that when awake. + +"To endure war is the most difficult subordination of man's +freedom to the law of God," the voice had said. "Simplicity is +submission to the will of God; you cannot escape from Him. And they +are simple. They do not talk, but act. The spoken word is silver but +the unspoken is golden. Man can be master of nothing while he fears +death, but he who does not fear it possesses all. If there were no +suffering, man would not know his limitations, would not know himself. +The hardest thing [Pierre went on thinking, or hearing, in his +dream] is to be able in your soul to unite the meaning of all. To +unite all?" he asked himself. "No, not to unite. Thoughts cannot be +united, but to harness all these thoughts together is what we need! +Yes, one must harness them, must harness them!" he repeated to himself +with inward rapture, feeling that these words and they alone expressed +what he wanted to say and solved the question that tormented him. + +"Yes, one must harness, it is time to harness." + +"Time to harness, time to harness, your excellency! Your +excellency!" some voice was repeating. "We must harness, it is time to +harness...." + +It was the voice of the groom, trying to wake him. The sun shone +straight into Pierre's face. He glanced at the dirty innyard in the +middle of which soldiers were watering their lean horses at the pump +while carts were passing out of the gate. Pierre turned away with +repugnance, and closing his eyes quickly fell back on the carriage +seat. "No, I don't want that, I don't want to see and understand that. +I want to understand what was revealing itself to me in my dream. +One second more and I should have understood it all! But what am I +to do? Harness, but how can I harness everything?" and Pierre felt +with horror that the meaning of all he had seen and thought in the +dream had been destroyed. + +The groom, the coachman, and the innkeeper told Pierre that an +officer had come with news that the French were already near +Mozhaysk and that our men were leaving it. + +Pierre got up and, having told them to harness and overtake him, +went on foot through the town. + +The troops were moving on, leaving about ten thousand wounded behind +them. There were wounded in the yards, at the windows of the houses, +and the streets were crowded with them. In the streets, around carts +that were to take some of the wounded away, shouts, curses, and +blows could be heard. Pierre offered the use of his carriage, which +had overtaken him, to a wounded general he knew, and drove with him +to Moscow. On the way Pierre was told of the death of his +brother-in-law Anatole and of that of Prince Andrew. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +On the thirteenth of August Pierre reached Moscow. Close to the +gates of the city he was met by Count Rostopchin's adjutant. + +"We have been looking for you everywhere," said the adjutant. "The +count wants to see you particularly. He asks you to come to him at +once on a very important matter." + +Without going home, Pierre took a cab and drove to see the Moscow +commander in chief. + +Count Rostopchin had only that morning returned to town from his +summer villa at Sokolniki. The anteroom and reception room of his +house were full of officials who had been summoned or had come for +orders. Vasilchikov and Platov had already seen the count and +explained to him that it was impossible to defend Moscow and that it +would have to be surrendered. Though this news was being concealed +from the inhabitants, the officials--the heads of the various +government departments--knew that Moscow would soon be in the +enemy's hands, just as Count Rostopchin himself knew it, and to escape +personal responsibility they had all come to the governor to ask how +they were to deal with their various departments. + +As Pierre was entering the reception room a courier from the army +came out of Rostopchin's private room. + +In answer to questions with which he was greeted, the courier made a +despairing gesture with his hand and passed through the room. + +While waiting in the reception room Pierre with weary eyes watched +the various officials, old and young, military and civilian, who +were there. They all seemed dissatisfied and uneasy. Pierre went up to +a group of men, one of whom he knew. After greeting Pierre they +continued their conversation. + +"If they're sent out and brought back again later on it will do no +harm, but as things are now one can't answer for anything." + +"But you see what he writes..." said another, pointing to a +printed sheet he held in his hand. + +"That's another matter. That's necessary for the people," said the +first. + +"What is it?" asked Pierre. + +"Oh, it's a fresh broadsheet." + +Pierre took it and began reading. + + +His Serene Highness has passed through Mozhaysk in order to join +up with the troops moving toward him and has taken up a strong +position where the enemy will not soon attack him. Forty eight guns +with ammunition have been sent him from here, and his Serene +Highness says he will defend Moscow to the last drop of blood and is +even ready to fight in the streets. Do not be upset, brothers, that +the law courts are closed; things have to be put in order, and we will +deal with villains in our own way! When the time comes I shall want +both town and peasant lads and will raise the cry a day or two +beforehand, but they are not wanted yet so I hold my peace. An ax will +be useful, a hunting spear not bad, but a three-pronged fork will be +best of all: a Frenchman is no heavier than a sheaf of rye. Tomorrow +after dinner I shall take the Iberian icon of the Mother of God to the +wounded in the Catherine Hospital where we will have some water +blessed. That will help them to get well quicker. I, too, am well now: +one of my eyes was sore but now I am on the lookout with both. + + +"But military men have told me that it is impossible to fight in the +town," said Pierre, "and that the position..." + +"Well, of course! That's what we were saying," replied the first +speaker. + +"And what does he mean by 'One of my eyes was sore but now I am on +the lookout with both'?" asked Pierre. + +"The count had a sty," replied the adjutant smiling, "and was very +much upset when I told him people had come to ask what was the +matter with him. By the by, Count," he added suddenly, addressing +Pierre with a smile, "we heard that you have family troubles and +that the countess, your wife..." + +"I have heard nothing," Pierre replied unconcernedly. "But what have +you heard?" + +"Oh, well, you know people often invent things. I only say what I +heard." + +"But what did you hear?" + +"Well, they say," continued the adjutant with the same smile, +"that the countess, your wife, is preparing to go abroad. I expect +it's nonsense...." + +"Possibly," remarked Pierre, looking about him absent-mindedly. "And +who is that?" he asked, indicating a short old man in a clean blue +peasant overcoat, with a big snow-white beard and eyebrows and a ruddy +face. + +"He? That's a tradesman, that is to say, he's the restaurant keeper, +Vereshchagin. Perhaps you have heard of that affair with the +proclamation." + +"Oh, so that is Vereshchagin!" said Pierre, looking at the firm, +calm face of the old man and seeking any indication of his being a +traitor. + +"That's not he himself, that's the father of the fellow who wrote +the proclamation," said the adjutant. "The young man is in prison +and I expect it will go hard with him." + +An old gentleman wearing a star and another official, a German +wearing a cross round his neck, approached the speaker. + +"It's a complicated story, you know," said the adjutant. "That +proclamation appeared about two months ago. The count was informed +of it. He gave orders to investigate the matter. Gabriel Ivanovich +here made the inquiries. The proclamation had passed through exactly +sixty-three hands. He asked one, 'From whom did you get it?' 'From +so-and-so.' He went to the next one. 'From whom did you get it?' and +so on till he reached Vereshchagin, a half educated tradesman, you +know, 'a pet of a trader,'" said the adjutant smiling. "They asked +him, 'Who gave it you?' And the point is that we knew whom he had it +from. He could only have had it from the Postmaster. But evidently +they had come to some understanding. He replied: 'From no one; I +made it up myself.' They threatened and questioned him, but he stuck +to that: 'I made it up myself.' And so it was reported to the count, +who sent for the man. 'From whom did you get the proclamation?' 'I +wrote it myself.' Well, you know the count," said the adjutant +cheerfully, with a smile of pride, "he flared up dreadfully--and +just think of the fellow's audacity, lying, and obstinacy!" + + "And the count wanted him to say it was from Klyucharev? I +understand!" said Pierre. + +"Not at all," rejoined the adjutant in dismay. "Klyucharev had his +own sins to answer for without that and that is why he has been +banished. But the point is that the count was much annoyed. 'How could +you have written it yourself?' said he, and he took up the Hamburg +Gazette that was lying on the table. 'Here it is! You did not write it +yourself but translated it, and translated it abominably, because +you don't even know French, you fool.' And what do you think? 'No,' +said he, 'I have not read any papers, I made it up myself.' 'If that's +so, you're a traitor and I'll have you tried, and you'll be hanged! +Say from whom you had it.' 'I have seen no papers, I made it up +myself.' And that was the end of it. The count had the father fetched, +but the fellow stuck to it. He was sent for trial and condemned to +hard labor, I believe. Now the father has come to intercede for him. +But he's a good-for-nothing lad! You know that sort of tradesman's +son, a dandy and lady-killer. He attended some lectures somewhere +and imagines that the devil is no match for him. That's the sort of +fellow he is. His father keeps a cookshop here by the Stone Bridge, +and you know there was a large icon of God Almighty painted with a +scepter in one hand and an orb in the other. Well, he took that icon +home with him for a few days and what did he do? He found some +scoundrel of a painter..." + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +In the middle of this fresh tale Pierre was summoned to the +commander in chief. + +When he entered the private room Count Rostopchin, puckering his +face, was rubbing his forehead and eyes with his hand. A short man was +saying something, but when Pierre entered he stopped speaking and went +out. + +"Ah, how do you do, great warrior?" said Rostopchin as soon as the +short man had left the room. "We have heard of your prowess. But +that's not the point. Between ourselves, mon cher, do you belong to +the Masons?" he went on severely, as though there were something wrong +about it which he nevertheless intended to pardon. Pierre remained +silent. "I am well informed, my friend, but I am aware that there +are Masons and I hope that you are not one of those who +on pretense of saving mankind wish to ruin Russia." + +"Yes, I am a Mason," Pierre replied. + +"There, you see, mon cher! I expect you know that Messrs. Speranski +and Magnitski have been deported to their proper place. Mr. Klyucharev +has been treated in the same way, and so have others who on the plea +of building up the temple of Solomon have tried to destroy the temple +of their fatherland. You can understand that there are reasons for +this and that I could not have exiled the Postmaster had he not been a +harmful person. It has now come to my knowledge that you lent him your +carriage for his removal from town, and that you have even accepted +papers from him for safe custody. I like you and don't wish you any +harm and--as you are only half my age--I advise you, as a father +would, to cease all communication with men of that stamp and to leave +here as soon as possible." + +"But what did Klyucharev do wrong, Count?" asked Pierre. + +"That is for me to know, but not for you to ask," shouted +Rostopchin. + +"If he is accused of circulating Napoleon's proclamation it is not +proved that he did so," said Pierre without looking at Rostopchin, +"and Vereshchagin..." + +"There we are!" Rostopchin shouted at Pierre louder than before, +frowning suddenly. "Vereshchagin is a renegade and a traitor who +will be punished as he deserves," said he with the vindictive heat +with which people speak when recalling an insult. "But I did not +summon you to discuss my actions, but to give you advice--or an +order if you prefer it. I beg you to leave the town and break off +all communication with such men as Klyucharev. And I will knock the +nonsense out of anybody"--but probably realizing that he was +shouting at Bezukhov who so far was not guilty of anything, he +added, taking Pierre's hand in a friendly manner, "We are on the eve +of a public disaster and I haven't time to be polite to everybody +who has business with me. My head is sometimes in a whirl. Well, mon +cher, what are you doing personally?" + +"Why, nothing," answered Pierre without raising his eyes or changing +the thoughtful expression of his face. + +The count frowned. + +"A word of friendly advice, mon cher. Be off as soon as you can, +that's all I have to tell you. Happy he who has ears to hear. Good-by, +my dear fellow. Oh, by the by!" he shouted through the doorway after +Pierre, "is it true that the countess has fallen into the clutches +of the holy fathers of the Society of Jesus?" + +Pierre did not answer and left Rostopchin's room more sullen and +angry than he had ever before shown himself. + +When he reached home it was already getting dark. Some eight +people had come to see him that evening: the secretary of a committee, +the colonel of his battalion, his steward, his major-domo, and various +petitioners. They all had business with Pierre and wanted decisions +from him. Pierre did not understand and was not interested in any of +these questions and only answered them in order to get rid of these +people. When left alone at last he opened and read his wife's letter. + +"They, the soldiers at the battery, Prince Andrew killed... that old +man... Simplicity is submission to God. Suffering is necessary... +the meaning of all... one must harness... my wife is getting +married... One must forget and understand..." And going to his bed +he threw himself on it without undressing and immediately fell asleep. + +When he awoke next morning the major-domo came to inform him that +a special messenger, a police officer, had come from Count +Rostopchin to know whether Count Bezukhov had left or was leaving +the town. + +A dozen persons who had business with Pierre were awaiting him in +the drawing room. Pierre dressed hurriedly and, instead of going to +see them, went to the back porch and out through the gate. + +From that time till the end of the destruction of Moscow no one of +Bezukhov's household, despite all the search they made, saw Pierre +again or knew where he was. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The Rostovs remained in Moscow till the first of September, that is, +till the eve of the enemy's entry into the city. + +After Petya had joined Obolenski's regiment of Cossacks and left for +Belaya Tserkov where that regiment was forming, the countess was +seized with terror. The thought that both her sons were at the war, +had both gone from under her wing, that today or tomorrow either or +both of them might be killed like the three sons of one of her +acquaintances, struck her that summer for the first time with cruel +clearness. She tried to get Nicholas back and wished to go herself to +join Petya, or to get him an appointment somewhere in Petersburg, but +neither of these proved possible. Petya could not return unless his +regiment did so or unless he was transferred to another regiment on +active service. Nicholas was somewhere with the army and had not sent +a word since his last letter, in which he had given a detailed account +of his meeting with Princess Mary. The countess did not sleep at +night, or when she did fall asleep dreamed that she saw her sons lying +dead. After many consultations and conversations, the count at last +devised means to tranquillize her. He got Petya transferred from +Obolenski's regiment to Bezukhov's, which was in training near Moscow. +Though Petya would remain in the service, this transfer would give the +countess the consolation of seeing at least one of her sons under her +wing, and she hoped to arrange matters for her Petya so as not to let +him go again, but always get him appointed to places where he could +not possibly take part in a battle. As long as Nicholas alone was in +danger the countess imagined that she loved her first-born more than +all her other children and even reproached herself for it; but when +her youngest: the scapegrace who had been bad at lessons, was always +breaking things in the house and making himself a nuisance to +everybody, that snub-nosed Petya with his merry black eyes and fresh +rosy cheeks where soft down was just beginning to show--when he was +thrown amid those big, dreadful, cruel men who were fighting somewhere +about something and apparently finding pleasure in it--then his mother +thought she loved him more, much more, than all her other children. +The nearer the time came for Petya to return, the more uneasy grew the +countess. She began to think she would never live to see such +happiness. The presence of Sonya, of her beloved Natasha, or even of +her husband irritated her. "What do I want with them? I want no one +but Petya," she thought. + +At the end of August the Rostovs received another letter from +Nicholas. He wrote from the province of Voronezh where he had been +sent to procure remounts, but that letter did not set the countess +at ease. Knowing that one son was out of danger she became the more +anxious about Petya. + +Though by the twentieth of August nearly all the Rostovs' +acquaintances had left Moscow, and though everybody tried to +persuade the countess to get away as quickly as possible, she would +not hear of leaving before her treasure, her adored Petya, returned. +On the twenty-eighth of August he arrived. The passionate tenderness +with which his mother received him did not please the sixteen-year-old +officer. Though she concealed from him her intention of keeping him +under her wing, Petya guessed her designs, and instinctively fearing +that he might give way to emotion when with her--might "become +womanish" as he termed it to himself--he treated her coldly, avoided +her, and during his stay in Moscow attached himself exclusively to +Natasha for whom he had always had a particularly brotherly +tenderness, almost lover-like. + +Owing to the count's customary carelessness nothing was ready for +their departure by the twenty-eighth of August and the carts that were +to come from their Ryazan and Moscow estates to remove their household +belongings did not arrive till the thirtieth. + +From the twenty-eighth till the thirty-first all Moscow was in a +bustle and commotion. Every day thousands of men wounded at Borodino +were brought in by the Dorogomilov gate and taken to various parts +of Moscow, and thousands of carts conveyed the inhabitants and their +possessions out by the other gates. In spite of Rostopchin's +broadsheets, or because of them or independently of them, the +strangest and most contradictory rumors were current in the town. Some +said that no one was to be allowed to leave the city, others on the +contrary said that all the icons had been taken out of the churches +and everybody was to be ordered to leave. Some said there had been +another battle after Borodino at which the French had been routed, +while others on the contrary reported that the Russian army had been +destroyed. Some talked about the Moscow militia which, preceded by the +clergy, would go to the Three Hills; others whispered that Augustin +had been forbidden to leave, that traitors had been seized, that the +peasants were rioting and robbing people on their way from Moscow, and +so on. But all this was only talk; in reality (though the Council of +Fili, at which it was decided to abandon Moscow, had not yet been +held) both those who went away and those who remained behind felt, +though they did not show it, that Moscow would certainly be abandoned, +and that they ought to get away as quickly as possible and save +their belongings. It was felt that everything would suddenly break +up and change, but up to the first of September nothing had done so. +As a criminal who is being led to execution knows that he must die +immediately, but yet looks about him and straightens the cap that is +awry on his head, so Moscow involuntarily continued its wonted life, +though it knew that the time of its destruction was near when the +conditions of life to which its people were accustomed to submit would +be completely upset. + +During the three days preceding the occupation of Moscow the whole +Rostov family was absorbed in various activities. The head of the +family, Count Ilya Rostov, continually drove about the city collecting +the current rumors from all sides and gave superficial and hasty +orders at home about the preparations for their departure. + +The countess watched the things being packed, was dissatisfied +with everything, was constantly in pursuit of Petya who was always +running away from her, and was jealous of Natasha with whom he spent +all his time. Sonya alone directed the practical side of matters by +getting things packed. But of late Sonya had been particularly sad and +silent. Nicholas' letter in which he mentioned Princess Mary had +elicited, in her presence, joyous comments from the countess, who +saw an intervention of Providence in this meeting of the princess +and Nicholas. + +"I was never pleased at Bolkonski's engagement to Natasha," said the +countess, "but I always wanted Nicholas to marry the princess, and had +a presentiment that it would happen. What a good thing it would be!" + +Sonya felt that this was true: that the only possibility of +retrieving the Rostovs' affairs was by Nicholas marrying a rich woman, +and that the princess was a good match. It was very bitter for her. +But despite her grief, or perhaps just because of it, she took on +herself all the difficult work of directing the storing and packing of +their things and was busy for whole days. The count and countess +turned to her when they had any orders to give. Petya and Natasha on +the contrary, far from helping their parents, were generally a +nuisance and a hindrance to everyone. Almost all day long the house +resounded with their running feet, their cries, and their +spontaneous laughter. They laughed and were gay not because there +was any reason to laugh, but because gaiety and mirth were in their +hearts and so everything that happened was a cause for gaiety and +laughter to them. Petya was in high spirits because having left home a +boy he had returned (as everybody told him) a fine young man, +because he was at home, because he had left Belaya Tserkov where there +was no hope of soon taking part in a battle and had come to Moscow +where there was to be fighting in a few days, and chiefly because +Natasha, whose lead he always followed, was in high spirits. Natasha +was gay because she had been sad too long and now nothing reminded her +of the cause of her sadness, and because she was feeling well. She was +also happy because she had someone to adore her: the adoration of +others was a lubricant the wheels of her machine needed to make them +run freely--and Petya adored her. Above all, they were gay because +there was a war near Moscow, there would be fighting at the town +gates, arms were being given out, everybody was escaping--going away +somewhere, and in general something extraordinary was happening, and +that is always exciting, especially to the young. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +On Saturday, the thirty-first of August, everything in the +Rostovs' house seemed topsy-turvy. All the doors were open, all the +furniture was being carried out or moved about, and the mirrors and +pictures had been taken down. There were trunks in the rooms, and hay, +wrapping paper, and ropes were scattered about. The peasants and house +serfs carrying out the things were treading heavily on the parquet +floors. The yard was crowded with peasant carts, some loaded high +and already corded up, others still empty. + +The voices and footsteps of the many servants and of the peasants +who had come with the carts resounded as they shouted to one another +in the yard and in the house. The count had been out since morning. +The countess had a headache brought on by all the noise and turmoil +and was lying down in the new sitting room with a vinegar compress +on her head. Petya was not at home, he had gone to visit a friend with +whom he meant to obtain a transfer from the militia to the active +army. Sonya was in the ballroom looking after the packing of the glass +and china. Natasha was sitting on the floor of her dismantled room +with dresses, ribbons, and scarves strewn all about her, gazing +fixedly at the floor and holding in her hands the old ball dress +(already out of fashion) which she had worn at her first Petersburg +ball. + +Natasha was ashamed of doing nothing when everyone else was so busy, +and several times that morning had tried to set to work, but her heart +was not in it, and she could not and did not know how to do anything +except with all her heart and all her might. For a while she had stood +beside Sonya while the china was being packed and tried to help, but +soon gave it up and went to her room to pack her own things. At +first she found it amusing to give away dresses and ribbons to the +maids, but when that was done and what was left had still to be +packed, she found it dull. + +"Dunyasha, you pack! You will, won't you, dear?" And when Dunyasha +willingly promised to do it all for her, Natasha sat down on the +floor, took her old ball dress, and fell into a reverie quite +unrelated to what ought to have occupied her thoughts now. She was +roused from her reverie by the talk of the maids in the next room +(which was theirs) and by the sound of their hurried footsteps going +to the back porch. Natasha got up and looked out of the window. An +enormously long row of carts full of wounded men had stopped in the +street. + +The housekeeper, the old nurse, the cooks, coachmen, maids, footmen, +postilions, and scullions stood at the gate, staring at the wounded. + +Natasha, throwing a clean pocket handkerchief over her hair and +holding an end of it in each hand, went out into the street. + +The former housekeeper, old Mavra Kuzminichna, had stepped out of +the crowd by the gate, gone up to a cart with a hood constructed of +bast mats, and was speaking to a pale young officer who lay inside. +Natasha moved a few steps forward and stopped shyly, still holding her +handkerchief, and listened to what the housekeeper was saying. + +"Then you have nobody in Moscow?" she was saying. "You would be more +comfortable somewhere in a house... in ours, for instance... the +family are leaving." + +"I don't know if it would be allowed," replied the officer in a weak +voice. "Here is our commanding officer... ask him," and he pointed +to a stout major who was walking back along the street past the row of +carts. + +Natasha glanced with frightened eyes at the face of the wounded +officer and at once went to meet the major. + +"May the wounded men stay in our house?" she asked. + +The major raised his hand to his cap with a smile. + +"Which one do you want, Ma'am'selle?" said he, screwing up his +eyes and smiling. + +Natasha quietly repeated her question, and her face and whole manner +were so serious, though she was still holding the ends of her +handkerchief, that the major ceased smiling and after some +reflection--as if considering in how far the thing was possible--replied +in the affirmative. + +"Oh yes, why not? They may," he said. + +With a slight inclination of her head, Natasha stepped back +quickly to Mavra Kuzminichna, who stood talking compassionately to the +officer. + +"They may. He says they may!" whispered Natasha. + +The cart in which the officer lay was turned into the Rostovs' yard, +and dozens of carts with wounded men began at the invitation of the +townsfolk to turn into the yards and to draw up at the entrances of +the houses in Povarskaya Street. Natasha was evidently pleased to be +dealing with new people outside the ordinary routine of her life. +She and Mavra Kuzminichna tried to get as many of the wounded as +possible into their yard. + +"Your Papa must be told, though," said Mavra Kuzminichna. + +"Never mind, never mind, what does it matter? For one day we can +move into the drawing room. They can have all our half of the house." + +"There now, young lady, you do take things into your head! Even if +we put them into the wing, the men's room, or the nurse's room, we +must ask permission." + +"Well, I'll ask." + +Natasha ran into the house and went on tiptoe through the +half-open door into the sitting room, where there was a smell of +vinegar and Hoffman's drops. + +"Are you asleep, Mamma?" + +"Oh, what sleep-?" said the countess, waking up just as she was +dropping into a doze. + +"Mamma darling!" said Natasha, kneeling by her mother and bringing +her face close to her mother's, "I am sorry, forgive me, I'll never do +it again; I woke you up! Mavra Kuzminichna has sent me: they have +brought some wounded here--officers. Will you let them come? They have +nowhere to go. I knew you'd let them come!" she said quickly all in +one breath. + +"What officers? Whom have they brought? I don't understand +anything about it," said the countess. + +Natasha laughed, and the countess too smiled slightly. + +"I knew you'd give permission... so I'll tell them," and, having +kissed her mother, Natasha got up and went to the door. + +In the hall she met her father, who had returned with bad news. + +"We've stayed too long!" said the count with involuntary vexation. +"The Club is closed and the police are leaving." + +"Papa, is it all right--I've invited some of the wounded into the +house?" said Natasha. + +"Of course it is," he answered absently. "That's not the point. I +beg you not to indulge in trifles now, but to help to pack, and +tomorrow we must go, go, go!...." + +And the count gave a similar order to the major-domo and the +servants. + +At dinner Petya having returned home told them the news he had +heard. He said the people had been getting arms in the Kremlin, and +that though Rostopchin's broadsheet had said that he would sound a +call two or three days in advance, the order had certainly already +been given for everyone to go armed to the Three Hills tomorrow, and +that there would be a big battle there. + +The countess looked with timid horror at her son's eager, excited +face as he said this. She realized that if she said a word about his +not going to the battle (she knew he enjoyed the thought of the +impending engagement) he would say something about men, honor, and the +fatherland--something senseless, masculine, and obstinate which +there would be no contradicting, and her plans would be spoiled; and +so, hoping to arrange to leave before then and take Petya with her +as their protector and defender, she did not answer him, but after +dinner called the count aside and implored him with tears to take +her away quickly, that very night if possible. With a woman's +involuntary loving cunning she, who till then had not shown any alarm, +said that she would die of fright if they did not leave that very +night. Without any pretense she was now afraid of everything. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Madame Schoss, who had been out to visit her daughter, increased the +countess' fears still more by telling what she had seen at a spirit +dealer's in Myasnitski Street. When returning by that street she had +been unable to pass because of a drunken crowd rioting in front of the +shop. She had taken a cab and driven home by a side street and the +cabman had told her that the people were breaking open the barrels +at the drink store, having received orders to do so. + +After dinner the whole Rostov household set to work with +enthusiastic haste packing their belongings and preparing for their +departure. The old count, suddenly setting to work, kept passing +from the yard to the house and back again, shouting confused +instructions to the hurrying people, and flurrying them still more. +Petya directed things in the yard. Sonya, owing to the count's +contradictory orders, lost her head and did not know what to do. The +servants ran noisily about the house and yard, shouting and disputing. +Natasha, with the ardor characteristic of all she did suddenly set +to work too. At first her intervention in the business of packing +was received skeptically. Everybody expected some prank from her and +did not wish to obey her; but she resolutely and passionately demanded +obedience, grew angry and nearly cried because they did not heed +her, and at last succeeded in making them believe her. Her first +exploit, which cost her immense effort and established her +authority, was the packing of the carpets. The count had valuable +Gobelin tapestries and Persian carpets in the house. When Natasha +set to work two cases were standing open in the ballroom, one almost +full up with crockery, the other with carpets. There was also much +china standing on the tables, and still more was being brought in from +the storeroom. A third case was needed and servants had gone to +fetch it. + +"Sonya, wait a bit--we'll pack everything into these," said Natasha. + +"You can't, Miss, we have tried to," said the butler's assistant. + +"No, wait a minute, please." + +And Natasha began rapidly taking out of the case dishes and plates +wrapped in paper. + +"The dishes must go in here among the carpets," said she. + +"Why, it's a mercy if we can get the carpets alone into three +cases," said the butler's assistant. + +"Oh, wait, please!" And Natasha began rapidly and deftly sorting out +the things. "These aren't needed," said she, putting aside some plates +of Kiev ware. "These--yes, these must go among the carpets," she said, +referring to the Saxony china dishes. + +"Don't, Natasha! Leave it alone! We'll get it all packed," urged +Sonya reproachfully. + +"What a young lady she is!" remarked the major-domo. + +But Natasha would not give in. She turned everything out and began +quickly repacking, deciding that the inferior Russian carpets and +unnecessary crockery should not be taken at all. When everything had +been taken out of the cases, they recommenced packing, and it turned +out that when the cheaper things not worth taking had nearly all +been rejected, the valuable ones really did all go into the two cases. +Only the lid of the case containing the carpets would not shut down. A +few more things might have been taken out, but Natasha insisted on +having her own way. She packed, repacked, pressed, made the butler's +assistant and Petya--whom she had drawn into the business of +packing--press on the lid, and made desperate efforts herself. + +"That's enough, Natasha," said Sonya. "I see you were right, but +just take out the top one." + +"I won't!" cried Natasha, with one hand holding back the hair that +hung over her perspiring face, while with the other she pressed down +the carpets. "Now press, Petya! Press, Vasilich, press hard!" she +cried. + +The carpets yielded and the lid closed; Natasha, clapping her hands, +screamed with delight and tears fell from her eyes. But this only +lasted a moment. She at once set to work afresh and they now trusted +her completely. The count was not angry even when they told him that +Natasha had countermanded an order of his, and the servants now came +to her to ask whether a cart was sufficiently loaded, and whether it +might be corded up. Thanks to Natasha's directions the work now went +on expeditiously, unnecessary things were left, and the most +valuable packed as compactly as possible. + +But hard as they all worked till quite late that night, they could +not get everything packed. The countess had fallen asleep and the +count, having put off their departure till next morning, went to bed. + +Sonya and Natasha slept in the sitting room without undressing. + +That night another wounded man was driven down the Povarskaya, and +Mavra Kuzminichna, who was standing at the gate, had him brought +into the Rostovs' yard. Mavra Kuzminichna concluded that he was a very +important man. He was being conveyed in a caleche with a raised +hood, and was quite covered by an apron. On the box beside the +driver sat a venerable old attendant. A doctor and two soldiers +followed the carriage in a cart. + +"Please come in here. The masters are going away and the whole house +will be empty," said the old woman to the old attendant. + +"Well, perhaps," said he with a sigh. "We don't expect to get him +home alive! We have a house of our own in Moscow, but it's a long +way from here, and there's nobody living in it." + +"Do us the honor to come in, there's plenty of everything in the +master's house. Come in," said Mavra Kuzminichna. "Is he very ill?" +she asked. + +The attendant made a hopeless gesture. + +"We don't expect to get him home! We must ask the doctor." + +And the old servant got down from the box and went up to the cart. + +"All right!" said the doctor. + +The old servant returned to the caleche, looked into it, shook his +head disconsolately, told the driver to turn into the yard, and +stopped beside Mavra Kuzminichna. + +"O, Lord Jesus Christ!" she murmured. + +She invited them to take the wounded man into the house. + +"The masters won't object..." she said. + +But they had to avoid carrying the man upstairs, and so they took +him into the wing and put him in the room that had been Madame +Schoss'. + +This wounded man was Prince Andrew Bolkonski. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Moscow's last day had come. It was a clear bright autumn day, a +Sunday. The church bells everywhere were ringing for service, just +as usual on Sundays. Nobody seemed yet to realize what awaited the +city. + +Only two things indicated the social condition of Moscow--the +rabble, that is the poor people, and the price of commodities. An +enormous crowd of factory hands, house serfs, and peasants, with +whom some officials, seminarists, and gentry were mingled, had gone +early that morning to the Three Hills. Having waited there for +Rostopchin who did not turn up, they became convinced that Moscow +would be surrendered, and then dispersed all about the town to the +public houses and cookshops. Prices too that day indicated the state +of affairs. The price of weapons, of gold, of carts and horses, kept +rising, but the value of paper money and city articles kept falling, +so that by midday there were instances of carters removing valuable +goods, such as cloth, and receiving in payment a half of what they +carted, while peasant horses were fetching five hundred rubles each, +and furniture, mirrors, and bronzes were being given away for nothing. + +In the Rostovs' staid old-fashioned house the dissolution of +former conditions of life was but little noticeable. As to the serfs +the only indication was that three out of their huge retinue +disappeared during the night, but nothing was stolen; and as to the +value of their possessions, the thirty peasant carts that had come +in from their estates and which many people envied proved to be +extremely valuable and they were offered enormous sums of money for +them. Not only were huge sums offered for the horses and carts, but on +the previous evening and early in the morning of the first of +September, orderlies and servants sent by wounded officers came to the +Rostovs' and wounded men dragged themselves there from the Rostovs' +and from neighboring houses where they were accommodated, entreating +the servants to try to get them a lift out of Moscow. The major-domo +to whom these entreaties were addressed, though he was sorry for the +wounded, resolutely refused, saying that he dare not even mention +the matter to the count. Pity these wounded men as one might, it was +evident that if they were given one cart there would be no reason to +refuse another, or all the carts and one's own carriages as well. +Thirty carts could not save all the wounded and in the general +catastrophe one could not disregard oneself and one's own family. So +thought the major-domo on his master's behalf. + +On waking up that morning Count Ilya Rostov left his bedroom softly, +so as not to wake the countess who had fallen asleep only toward +morning, and came out to the porch in his lilac silk dressing gown. In +the yard stood the carts ready corded. The carriages were at the front +porch. The major-domo stood at the porch talking to an elderly orderly +and to a pale young officer with a bandaged arm. On seeing the count +the major-domo made a significant and stern gesture to them both to go +away. + +"Well, Vasilich, is everything ready?" asked the count, and stroking +his bald head he looked good-naturedly at the officer and the +orderly and nodded to them. (He liked to see new faces.) + +"We can harness at once, your excellency." + +"Well, that's right. As soon as the countess wakes we'll be off, God +willing! What is it, gentlemen?" he added, turning to the officer. +"Are you staying in my house?" + +The officer came nearer and suddenly his face flushed crimson. + +"Count, be so good as to allow me... for God's sake, to get into +some corner of one of your carts! I have nothing here with me.... I +shall be all right on a loaded cart..." + +Before the officer had finished speaking the orderly made the same +request on behalf of his master. + +"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" said the count hastily. "I shall be very +pleased, very pleased. Vasilich, you'll see to it. Just unload one +or two carts. Well, what of it... do what's necessary..." said the +count, muttering some indefinite order. + +But at the same moment an expression of warm gratitude on the +officer's face had already sealed the order. The count looked around +him. In the yard, at the gates, at the window of the wings, wounded +officers and their orderlies were to be seen. They were all looking at +the count and moving toward the porch. + +"Please step into the gallery, your excellency," said the +major-domo. "What are your orders about the pictures?" + +The count went into the house with him, repeating his order not to +refuse the wounded who asked for a lift. + +"Well, never mind, some of the things can be unloaded," he added +in a soft, confidential voice, as though afraid of being overheard. + +At nine o'clock the countess woke up, and Matrena Timofeevna, who +had been her lady's maid before her marriage and now performed a +sort of chief gendarme's duty for her, came to say that Madame +Schoss was much offended and the young ladies' summer dresses could +not be left behind. On inquiry, the countess learned that Madame +Schoss was offended because her trunk had been taken down from its +cart, and all the loads were being uncorded and the luggage taken +out of the carts to make room for wounded men whom the count in the +simplicity of his heart had ordered that they should take with them. +The countess sent for her husband. + +"What is this, my dear? I hear that the luggage is being unloaded." + +"You know, love, I wanted to tell you... Countess dear... an officer +came to me to ask for a few carts for the wounded. After all, ours are +things that can be bought but think what being left behind means to +them!... Really now, in our own yard--we asked them in ourselves and +there are officers among them.... You know, I think, my dear... let +them be taken... where's the hurry?" + +The count spoke timidly, as he always did when talking of money +matters. The countess was accustomed to this tone as a precursor of +news of something detrimental to the children's interests, such as the +building of a new gallery or conservatory, the inauguration of a +private theater or an orchestra. She was accustomed always to oppose +anything announced in that timid tone and considered it her duty to do +so. + +She assumed her dolefully submissive manner and said to her husband: +"Listen to me, Count, you have managed matters so that we are getting +nothing for the house, and now you wish to throw away all our--all the +children's property! You said yourself that we have a hundred thousand +rubles' worth of things in the house. I don't consent, my dear, I +don't! Do as you please! It's the government's business to look after +the wounded; they know that. Look at the Lopukhins opposite, they +cleared out everything two days ago. That's what other people do. It's +only we who are such fools. If you have no pity on me, have some for +the children." + +Flourishing his arms in despair the count left the room without +replying. + +"Papa, what are you doing that for?" asked Natasha, who had followed +him into her mother's room. + +"Nothing! What business is it of yours?" muttered the count angrily. + +"But I heard," said Natasha. "Why does Mamma object?" + +"What business is it of yours?" cried the count. + +Natasha stepped up to the window and pondered. + +"Papa! Here's Berg coming to see us," said she, looking out of the +window. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Berg, the Rostovs' son-in-law, was already a colonel wearing the +orders of Vladimir and Anna, and he still filled the quiet and +agreeable post of assistant to the head of the staff of the +assistant commander of the first division of the Second Army. + +On the first of September he had come to Moscow from the army. + +He had nothing to do in Moscow, but he had noticed that everyone +in the army was asking for leave to visit Moscow and had something +to do there. So he considered it necessary to ask for leave of absence +for family and domestic reasons. + +Berg drove up to his father-in-law's house in his spruce little trap +with a pair of sleek roans, exactly like those of a certain prince. He +looked attentively at the carts in the yard and while going up to +the porch took out a clean pocket handkerchief and tied a knot in it. + +From the anteroom Berg ran with smooth though impatient steps into +the drawing room, where he embraced the count, kissed the hands of +Natasha and Sonya, and hastened to inquire after "Mamma's" health. + +"Health, at a time like this?" said the count. "Come, tell us the +news! Is the army retreating or will there be another battle?" + +"God Almighty alone can decide the fate of our fatherland, Papa," +said Berg. "The army is burning with a spirit of heroism and the +leaders, so to say, have now assembled in council. No one knows what +is coming. But in general I can tell you, Papa, that such a heroic +spirit, the truly antique valor of the Russian army, which they--which +it" (he corrected himself) "has shown or displayed in the battle of +the twenty-sixth--there are no words worthy to do it justice! I tell +you, Papa" (he smote himself on the breast as a general he had heard +speaking had done, but Berg did it a trifle late for he should have +struck his breast at the words "Russian army"), "I tell you frankly +that we, the commanders, far from having to urge the men on or +anything of that kind, could hardly restrain those... those... yes, +those exploits of antique valor," he went on rapidly. "General Barclay +de Tolly risked his life everywhere at the head of the troops, I can +assure you. Our corps was stationed on a hillside. You can imagine!" + +And Berg related all that he remembered of the various tales he +had heard those days. Natasha watched him with an intent gaze that +confused him, as if she were trying to find in his face the answer +to some question. + +"Altogether such heroism as was displayed by the Russian warriors +cannot be imagined or adequately praised!" said Berg, glancing round +at Natasha, and as if anxious to conciliate her, replying to her +intent look with a smile. "'Russia is not in Moscow, she lives in +the hearts of her sons!' Isn't it so, Papa?" said he. + +Just then the countess came in from the sitting room with a weary +and dissatisfied expression. Berg hurriedly jumped up, kissed her +hand, asked about her health, and, swaying his head from side to +side to express sympathy, remained standing beside her. + +"Yes, Mamma, I tell you sincerely that these are hard and sad +times for every Russian. But why are you so anxious? You have still +time to get away...." + +"I can't think what the servants are about," said the countess, +turning to her husband. "I have just been told that nothing is ready +yet. Somebody after all must see to things. One misses Mitenka at such +times. There won't be any end to it." + +The count was about to say something, but evidently restrained +himself. He got up from his chair and went to the door. + +At that moment Berg drew out his handkerchief as if to blow his nose +and, seeing the knot in it, pondered, shaking his head sadly and +significantly. + +"And I have a great favor to ask of you, Papa," said he. + +"Hm..." said the count, and stopped. + +"I was driving past Yusupov's house just now," said Berg with a +laugh, "when the steward, a man I know, ran out and asked me whether I +wouldn't buy something. I went in out of curiosity, you know, and +there is a small chiffonier and a dressing table. You know how dear +Vera wanted a chiffonier like that and how we had a dispute about it." +(At the mention of the chiffonier and dressing table Berg +involuntarily changed his tone to one of pleasure at his admirable +domestic arrangements.) "And it's such a beauty! It pulls out and +has a secret English drawer, you know! And dear Vera has long wanted +one. I wish to give her a surprise, you see. I saw so many of those +peasant carts in your yard. Please let me have one, I will pay the man +well, and..." + +The count frowned and coughed. + +"Ask the countess, I don't give orders." + +"If it's inconvenient, please don't," said Berg. "Only I so wanted +it, for dear Vera's sake." + +"Oh, go to the devil, all of you! To the devil, the devil, the +devil..." cried the old count. "My head's in a whirl!" + +And he left the room. The countess began to cry. + +"Yes, Mamma! Yes, these are very hard times!" said Berg. + +Natasha left the room with her father and, as if finding it +difficult to reach some decision, first followed him and then ran +downstairs. + +Petya was in the porch, engaged in giving out weapons to the +servants who were to leave Moscow. The loaded carts were still +standing in the yard. Two of them had been uncorded and a wounded +officer was climbing into one of them helped by an orderly. + +"Do you know what it's about?" Petya asked Natasha. + +She understood that he meant what were their parents quarreling +about. She did not answer. + +"It's because Papa wanted to give up all the carts to the +wounded," said Petya. "Vasilich told me. I consider..." + +"I consider," Natasha suddenly almost shouted, turning her angry +face to Petya, "I consider it so horrid, so abominable, so... I +don't know what. Are we despicable Germans?" + +Her throat quivered with convulsive sobs and, afraid of weakening +and letting the force of her anger run to waste, she turned and rushed +headlong up the stairs. + +Berg was sitting beside the countess consoling her with the +respectful attention of a relative. The count, pipe in hand, was +pacing up and down the room, when Natasha, her face distorted by +anger, burst in like a tempest and approached her mother with rapid +steps. + +"It's horrid! It's abominable!" she screamed. "You can't possibly +have ordered it!" + +Berg and the countess looked at her, perplexed and frightened. The +count stood still at the window and listened. + +"Mamma, it's impossible: see what is going on in the yard!" she +cried. "They will be left!..." + +"What's the matter with you? Who are 'they'? What do you want?" + +"Why, the wounded! It's impossible, Mamma. It's monstrous!... No, +Mamma darling, it's not the thing. Please forgive me, darling.... +Mamma, what does it matter what we take away? Only look what is +going on in the yard... Mamma!... It's impossible!" + +The count stood by the window and listened without turning round. +Suddenly he sniffed and put his face closer to the window. + +The countess glanced at her daughter, saw her face full of shame for +her mother, saw her agitation, and understood why her husband did +not turn to look at her now, and she glanced round quite disconcerted. + +"Oh, do as you like! Am I hindering anyone?" she said, not +surrendering at once. + +"Mamma, darling, forgive me!" + +But the countess pushed her daughter away and went up to her +husband. + +"My dear, you order what is right.... You know I don't understand +about it," said she, dropping her eyes shamefacedly. + +"The eggs... the eggs are teaching the hen," muttered the count +through tears of joy, and he embraced his wife who was glad to hide +her look of shame on his breast. + +"Papa! Mamma! May I see to it? May I?..." asked Natasha. "We will +still take all the most necessary things." + +The count nodded affirmatively, and Natasha, at the rapid pace at +which she used to run when playing at tag, ran through the ballroom to +the anteroom and downstairs into the yard. + +The servants gathered round Natasha, but could not believe the +strange order she brought them until the count himself, in his +wife's name, confirmed the order to give up all the carts to the +wounded and take the trunks to the storerooms. When they understood +that order the servants set to work at this new task with pleasure and +zeal. It no longer seemed strange to them but on the contrary it +seemed the only thing that could be done, just as a quarter of an hour +before it had not seemed strange to anyone that the wounded should +be left behind and the goods carted away but that had seemed the +only thing to do. + +The whole household, as if to atone for not having done it sooner, +set eagerly to work at the new task of placing the wounded in the +carts. The wounded dragged themselves out of their rooms and stood +with pale but happy faces round the carts. The news that carts were to +be had spread to the neighboring houses, from which wounded men +began to come into the Rostovs' yard. Many of the wounded asked them +not to unload the carts but only to let them sit on the top of the +things. But the work of unloading, once started, could not be +arrested. It seemed not to matter whether all or only half the +things were left behind. Cases full of china, bronzes, pictures, and +mirrors that had been so carefully packed the night before now lay +about the yard, and still they went on searching for and finding +possibilities of unloading this or that and letting the wounded have +another and yet another cart. + +"We can take four more men," said the steward. "They can have my +trap, or else what is to become of them?" + +"Let them have my wardrobe cart," said the countess. "Dunyasha can +go with me in the carriage." + +They unloaded the wardrobe cart and sent it to take wounded men from +a house two doors off. The whole household, servants included, was +bright and animated. Natasha was in a state of rapturous excitement +such as she had not known for a long time. + +"What could we fasten this onto?" asked the servants, trying to +fix a trunk on the narrow footboard behind a carriage. "We must keep +at least one cart." + +"What's in it?" asked Natasha. + +"The count's books." + +"Leave it, Vasilich will put it away. It's not wanted." + +The phaeton was full of people and there was a doubt as to where +Count Peter could sit. + +"On the box. You'll sit on the box, won't you, Petya?" cried +Natasha. + +Sonya too was busy all this time, but the aim of her efforts was +quite different from Natasha's. She was putting away the things that +had to be left behind and making a list of them as the countess +wished, and she tried to get as much taken away with them as possible. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Before two o'clock in the afternoon the Rostovs' four carriages, +packed full and with the horses harnessed, stood at the front door. +One by one the carts with the wounded had moved out of the yard. + +The caleche in which Prince Andrew was being taken attracted Sonya's +attention as it passed the front porch. With the help of a maid she +was arranging a seat for the countess in the huge high coach that +stood at the entrance. + +"Whose caleche is that?" she inquired, leaning out of the carriage +window. + +"Why, didn't you know, Miss?" replied the maid. "The wounded prince: +he spent the night in our house and is going with us." + +"But who is it? What's his name?" + +"It's our intended that was--Prince Bolkonski himself! They say he +is dying," replied the maid with a sigh. + +Sonya jumped out of the coach and ran to the countess. The countess, +tired out and already dressed in shawl and bonnet for her journey, was +pacing up and down the drawing room, waiting for the household to +assemble for the usual silent prayer with closed doors before +starting. Natasha was not in the room. + +"Mamma," said Sonya, "Prince Andrew is here, mortally wounded. He is +going with us." + +The countess opened her eyes in dismay and, seizing Sonya's arm, +glanced around. + +"Natasha?" she murmured. + +At that moment this news had only one significance for both of them. +They knew their Natasha, and alarm as to what would happen if she +heard this news stifled all sympathy for the man they both liked. + +"Natasha does not know yet, but he is going with us," said Sonya. + +"You say he is dying?" + +Sonya nodded. + +The countess put her arms around Sonya and began to cry. + +"The ways of God are past finding out!" she thought, feeling that +the Almighty Hand, hitherto unseen, was becoming manifest in all +that was now taking place. + +"Well, Mamma? Everything is ready. What's the matter?" asked +Natasha, as with animated face she ran into the room. + +"Nothing," answered the countess. "If everything is ready let us +start." + +And the countess bent over her reticule to hide her agitated face. +Sonya embraced Natasha and kissed her. + +Natasha looked at her inquiringly. + +"What is it? What has happened?" + +"Nothing... No..." + +"Is it something very bad for me? What is it?" persisted Natasha +with her quick intuition. + +Sonya sighed and made no reply. The count, Petya, Madame Schoss, +Mavra Kuzminichna, and Vasilich came into the drawing room and, having +closed the doors, they all sat down and remained for some moments +silently seated without looking at one another. + +The count was the first to rise, and with a loud sigh crossed +himself before the icon. All the others did the same. Then the count +embraced Mavra Kuzminichna and Vasilich, who were to remain in Moscow, +and while they caught at his hand and kissed his shoulder he patted +their backs lightly with some vaguely affectionate and comforting +words. The countess went into the oratory and there Sonya found her on +her knees before the icons that had been left here and there hanging +on the wall. (The most precious ones, with which some family tradition +was connected, were being taken with them.) + +In the porch and in the yard the men whom Petya had armed with +swords and daggers, with trousers tucked inside their high boots and +with belts and girdles tightened, were taking leave of those remaining +behind. + +As is always the case at a departure, much had been forgotten or put +in the wrong place, and for a long time two menservants stood one on +each side of the open door and the carriage steps waiting to help +the countess in, while maids rushed with cushions and bundles from the +house to the carriages, the caleche, the phaeton, and back again. + +"They always will forget everything!" said the countess. "Don't +you know I can't sit like that?" + +And Dunyasha, with clenched teeth, without replying but with an +aggrieved look on her face, hastily got into the coach to rearrange +the seat. + +"Oh, those servants!" said the count, swaying his head. + +Efim, the old coachman, who was the only one the countess trusted to +drive her, sat perched up high on the box and did not so much as +glance round at what was going on behind him. From thirty years' +experience he knew it would be some time yet before the order, "Be +off, in God's name!" would be given him: and he knew that even when it +was said he would be stopped once or twice more while they sent back +to fetch something that had been forgotten, and even after that he +would again be stopped and the countess herself would lean out of +the window and beg him for the love of heaven to drive carefully +down the hill. He knew all this and therefore waited calmly for what +would happen, with more patience than the horses, especially the +near one, the chestnut Falcon, who was pawing the ground and +champing his bit. At last all were seated, the carriage steps were +folded and pulled up, the door was shut, somebody was sent for a +traveling case, and the countess leaned out and said what she had to +say. Then Efim deliberately doffed his hat and began crossing himself. +The postilion and all the other servants did the same. "Off, in +God's name!" said Efim, putting on his hat. "Start!" The postilion +started the horses, the off pole horse tugged at his collar, the +high springs creaked, and the body of the coach swayed. The footman +sprang onto the box of the moving coach which jolted as it passed +out of the yard onto the uneven roadway; the other vehicles jolted +in their turn, and the procession of carriages moved up the street. In +the carriages, the caleche, and the phaeton, all crossed themselves as +they passed the church opposite the house. Those who were to remain in +Moscow walked on either side of the vehicles seeing the travelers off. + +Rarely had Natasha experienced so joyful a feeling as now, sitting +in the carriage beside the countess and gazing at the slowly +receding walls of forsaken, agitated Moscow. Occasionally she leaned +out of the carriage window and looked back and then forward at the +long train of wounded in front of them. Almost at the head of the line +she could see the raised hood of Prince Andrew's caleche. She did +not know who was in it, but each time she looked at the procession her +eyes sought that caleche. She knew it was right in front. + +In Kudrino, from the Nikitski, Presnya, and Podnovinsk Streets +came several other trains of vehicles similar to the Rostovs', and +as they passed along the Sadovaya Street the carriages and carts +formed two rows abreast. + +As they were going round the Sukharev water tower Natasha, who was +inquisitively and alertly scrutinizing the people driving or walking +past, suddenly cried out in joyful surprise: + +"Dear me! Mamma, Sonya, look, it's he!" + +"Who? Who?" + +"Look! Yes, on my word, it's Bezukhov!" said Natasha, putting her +head out of the carriage and staring at a tall, stout man in a +coachman's long coat, who from his manner of walking and moving was +evidently a gentleman in disguise, and who was passing under the +arch of the Sukharev tower accompanied by a small, sallow-faced, +beardless old man in a frieze coat. + +"Yes, it really is Bezukhov in a coachman's coat, with a +queer-looking old boy. Really," said Natasha, "look, look!" + +"No, it's not he. How can you talk such nonsense?" + +"Mamma," screamed Natasha, "I'll stake my head it's he! I assure +you! Stop, stop!" she cried to the coachman. + +But the coachman could not stop, for from the Meshchanski Street +came more carts and carriages, and the Rostovs were being shouted at +to move on and not block the way. + +In fact, however, though now much farther off than before, the +Rostovs all saw Pierre--or someone extraordinarily like him--in a +coachman's coat, going down the street with head bent and a serious +face beside a small, beardless old man who looked like a footman. That +old man noticed a face thrust out of the carriage window gazing at +them, and respectfully touching Pierre's elbow said something to him +and pointed to the carriage. Pierre, evidently engrossed in thought, +could not at first understand him. At length when he had understood +and looked in the direction the old man indicated, he recognized +Natasha, and following his first impulse stepped instantly and rapidly +toward the coach. But having taken a dozen steps he seemed to remember +something and stopped. + +Natasha's face, leaning out of the window, beamed with quizzical +kindliness. + +"Peter Kirilovich, come here! We have recognized you! This is +wonderful!" she cried, holding out her hand to him. "What are you +doing? Why are you like this?" + +Pierre took her outstretched hand and kissed it awkwardly as he +walked along beside her while the coach still moved on. + +"What is the matter, Count?" asked the countess in a surprised and +commiserating tone. + +"What? What? Why? Don't ask me," said Pierre, and looked round at +Natasha whose radiant, happy expression--of which he was conscious +without looking at her--filled him with enchantment. + +"Are you remaining in Moscow, then?" + +Pierre hesitated. + +"In Moscow?" he said in a questioning tone. "Yes, in Moscow. +Good-by!" + +"Ah, if only I were a man? I'd certainly stay with you. How +splendid!" said Natasha. "Mamma, if you'll let me, I'll stay!" + +Pierre glanced absently at Natasha and was about to say something, +but the countess interrupted him. + +"You were at the battle, we heard." + +"Yes, I was," Pierre answered. "There will be another battle +tomorrow..." he began, but Natasha interrupted him. + +"But what is the matter with you, Count? You are not like +yourself...." + +"Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me! I don't know myself. Tomorrow... +But no! Good-by, good-by!" he muttered. "It's an awful time!" and +dropping behind the carriage he stepped onto the pavement. + +Natasha continued to lean out of the window for a long time, beaming +at him with her kindly, slightly quizzical, happy smile. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +For the last two days, ever since leaving home, Pierre had been +living in the empty house of his deceased benefactor, Bazdeev. This is +how it happened. + +When he woke up on the morning after his return to Moscow and his +interview with Count Rostopchin, he could not for some time make out +where he was and what was expected of him. When he was informed that +among others awaiting him in his reception room there was a +Frenchman who had brought a letter from his wife, the Countess Helene, +he felt suddenly overcome by that sense of confusion and +hopelessness to which he was apt to succumb. He felt that everything +was now at an end, all was in confusion and crumbling to pieces, +that nobody was right or wrong, the future held nothing, and there was +no escape from this position. Smiling unnaturally and muttering to +himself, he first sat down on the sofa in an attitude of despair, then +rose, went to the door of the reception room and peeped through the +crack, returned flourishing his arms, and took up a book. His +major-domo came in a second time to say that the Frenchman who had +brought the letter from the countess was very anxious to see him if +only for a minute, and that someone from Bazdeev's widow had called to +ask Pierre to take charge of her husband's books, as she herself was +leaving for the country. + +"Oh, yes, in a minute; wait... or no! No, of course... go and say +I will come directly," Pierre replied to the major-domo. + +But as soon as the man had left the room Pierre took up his hat +which was lying on the table and went out of his study by the other +door. There was no one in the passage. He went along the whole +length of this passage to the stairs and, frowning and rubbing his +forehead with both hands, went down as far as the first landing. The +hall porter was standing at the front door. From the landing where +Pierre stood there was a second staircase leading to the back +entrance. He went down that staircase and out into the yard. No one +had seen him. But there were some carriages waiting, and as soon as +Pierre stepped out of the gate the coachmen and the yard porter +noticed him and raised their caps to him. When he felt he was being +looked at he behaved like an ostrich which hides its head in a bush in +order not to be seen: he hung his head and quickening his pace went +down the street. + +Of all the affairs awaiting Pierre that day the sorting of Joseph +Bazdeev's books and papers appeared to him the most necessary. + +He hired the first cab he met and told the driver to go to the +Patriarch's Ponds, where the widow Bazdeev's house was. + +Continually turning round to look at the rows of loaded carts that +were making their way from all sides out of Moscow, and balancing +his bulky body so as not to slip out of the ramshackle old vehicle, +Pierre, experiencing the joyful feeling of a boy escaping from school, +began to talk to his driver. + +The man told him that arms were being distributed today at the +Kremlin and that tomorrow everyone would be sent out beyond the +Three Hills gates and a great battle would be fought there. + +Having reached the Patriarch's Ponds Pierre found the Bazdeevs' +house, where he had not been for a long time past. He went up to the +gate. Gerasim, that sallow beardless old man Pierre had seen at +Torzhok five years before with Joseph Bazdeev, came out in answer to +his knock. + +"At home?" asked Pierre. + +"Owing to the present state of things Sophia Danilovna has gone to +the Torzhok estate with the children, your excellency." + +"I will come in all the same, I have to look through the books," +said Pierre. + +"Be so good as to step in. Makar Alexeevich, the brother of my +late master--may the kingdom of heaven be his--has remained here, +but he is in a weak state as you know," said the old servant. + +Pierre knew that Makar Alexeevich was Joseph Bazdeev's half-insane +brother and a hard drinker. + +"Yes, yes, I know. Let us go in..." said Pierre and entered the +house. + +A tall, bald-headed old man with a red nose, wearing a dressing gown +and with galoshes on his bare feet, stood in the anteroom. On seeing +Pierre he muttered something angrily and went away along the passage. + +"He was a very clever man but has now grown quite feeble, as your +honor sees," said Gerasim. "Will you step into the study?" Pierre +nodded. "As it was sealed up so it has remained, but Sophia +Danilovna gave orders that if anyone should come from you they were to +have the books." + +Pierre went into that gloomy study which he had entered with such +trepidation in his benefactor's lifetime. The room, dusty and +untouched since the death of Joseph Bazdeev was now even gloomier. + +Gerasim opened one of the shutters and left the room on tiptoe. +Pierre went round the study, approached the cupboard in which the +manuscripts were kept, and took out what had once been one of the most +important, the holy of holies of the order. This was the authentic +Scotch Acts with Bazdeev's notes and explanations. He sat down at +the dusty writing table, and, having laid the manuscripts before +him, opened them out, closed them, finally pushed them away, and +resting his head on his hand sank into meditation. + +Gerasim looked cautiously into the study several times and saw +Pierre always sitting in the same attitude. + +More than two hours passed and Gerasim took the liberty of making +a slight noise at the door to attract his attention, but Pierre did +not hear him. + +"Is the cabman to be discharged, your honor?" + +"Oh yes!" said Pierre, rousing himself and rising hurriedly. "Look +here," he added, taking Gerasim by a button of his coat and looking +down at the old man with moist, shining, and ecstatic eyes, "I say, do +you know that there is going to be a battle tomorrow?" + +"We heard so," replied the man. + +"I beg you not to tell anyone who I am, and to do what I ask you." + +"Yes, your excellency," replied Gerasim. "Will you have something to +eat?" + +"No, but I want something else. I want peasant clothes and a +pistol," said Pierre, unexpectedly blushing. + +"Yes, your excellency," said Gerasim after thinking for a moment. + +All the rest of that day Pierre spent alone in his benefactor's +study, and Gerasim heard him pacing restlessly from one corner to +another and talking to himself. And he spent the night on a bed made +up for him there. + +Gerasim, being a servant who in his time had seen many strange +things, accepted Pierre's taking up his residence in the house without +surprise, and seemed pleased to have someone to wait on. That same +evening--without even asking himself what they were wanted for--he +procured a coachman's coat and cap for Pierre, and promised to get him +the pistol next day. Makar Alexeevich came twice that evening +shuffling along in his galoshes as far as the door and stopped and +looked ingratiatingly at Pierre. But as soon as Pierre turned toward +him he wrapped his dressing gown around him with a shamefaced and +angry look and hurried away. It was when Pierre (wearing the +coachman's coat which Gerasim had procured for him and had disinfected +by steam) was on his way with the old man to buy the pistol at the +Sukharev market that he met the Rostovs. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Kutuzov's order to retreat through Moscow to the Ryazan road was +issued at night on the first of September. + +The first troops started at once, and during the night they +marched slowly and steadily without hurry. At daybreak, however, those +nearing the town at the Dorogomilov bridge saw ahead of them masses of +soldiers crowding and hurrying across the bridge, ascending on the +opposite side and blocking the streets and alleys, while endless +masses of troops were bearing down on them from behind, and an +unreasoning hurry and alarm overcame them. They all rushed forward +to the bridge, onto it, and to the fords and the boats. Kutuzov +himself had driven round by side streets to the other side of Moscow. + +By ten o'clock in the morning of the second of September, only the +rear guard remained in the Dorogomilov suburb, where they had ample +room. The main army was on the other side of Moscow or beyond it. + +At that very time, at ten in the morning of the second of September, +Napoleon was standing among his troops on the Poklonny Hill looking at +the panorama spread out before him. From the twenty-sixth of August to +the second of September, that is from the battle of Borodino to the +entry of the French into Moscow, during the whole of that agitating, +memorable week, there had been the extraordinary autumn weather that +always comes as a surprise, when the sun hangs low and gives more heat +than in spring, when everything shines so brightly in the rare clear +atmosphere that the eyes smart, when the lungs are strengthened and +refreshed by inhaling the aromatic autumn air, when even the nights +are warm, and when in those dark warm nights, golden stars startle and +delight us continually by falling from the sky. + +At ten in the morning of the second of September this weather +still held. + +The brightness of the morning was magical. Moscow seen from the +Poklonny Hill lay spaciously spread out with her river, her gardens, +and her churches, and she seemed to be living her usual life, her +cupolas glittering like stars in the sunlight. + +The view of the strange city with its peculiar architecture, such as +he had never seen before, filled Napoleon with the rather envious +and uneasy curiosity men feel when they see an alien form of life that +has no knowledge of them. This city was evidently living with the full +force of its own life. By the indefinite signs which, even at a +distance, distinguish a living body from a dead one, Napoleon from the +Poklonny Hill perceived the throb of life in the town and felt, as +it were, the breathing of that great and beautiful body. + +Every Russian looking at Moscow feels her to be a mother; every +foreigner who sees her, even if ignorant of her significance as the +mother city, must feel her feminine character, and Napoleon felt it. + +"Cette ville asiatique aux innombrables eglises, Moscou la sainte. +La voila done enfin, cette fameuse ville! Il etait temps,"* said he, +and dismounting he ordered a plan of Moscow to be spread out before +him, and summoned Lelorgne d'Ideville, the interpreter. + + +*"That Asiatic city of the innumerable churches, holy Moscow! Here +it is then at last, that famous city. It was high time." + + +"A town captured by the enemy is like a maid who has lost her +honor," thought he (he had said so to Tuchkov at Smolensk). From +that point of view he gazed at the Oriental beauty he had not seen +before. It seemed strange to him that his long-felt wish, which had +seemed unattainable, had at last been realized. In the clear morning +light he gazed now at the city and now at the plan, considering its +details, and the assurance of possessing it agitated and awed him. + +"But could it be otherwise?" he thought. "Here is this capital at my +feet. Where is Alexander now, and of what is he thinking? A strange, +beautiful, and majestic city; and a strange and majestic moment! In +what light must I appear to them!" thought he, thinking of his troops. +"Here she is, the reward for all those fainthearted men," he +reflected, glancing at those near him and at the troops who were +approaching and forming up. "One word from me, one movement of my +hand, and that ancient capital of the Tsars would perish. But my +clemency is always ready to descend upon the vanquished. I must be +magnanimous and truly great. But no, it can't be true that I am in +Moscow," he suddenly thought. "Yet here she is lying at my feet, +with her golden domes and crosses scintillating and twinkling in the +sunshine. But I shall spare her. On the ancient monuments of barbarism +and despotism I will inscribe great words of justice and mercy.... +It is just this which Alexander will feel most painfully, I know him." +(It seemed to Napoleon that the chief import of what was taking +place lay in the personal struggle between himself and Alexander.) +"From the height of the Kremlin--yes, there is the Kremlin, yes--I +will give them just laws; I will teach them the meaning of true +civilization, I will make generations of boyars remember their +conqueror with love. I will tell the deputation that I did not, and do +not, desire war, that I have waged war only against the false policy +of their court; that I love and respect Alexander and that in Moscow I +will accept terms of peace worthy of myself and of my people. I do not +wish to utilize the fortunes of war to humiliate an honored monarch. +'Boyars,' I will say to them, 'I do not desire war, I desire the peace +and welfare of all my subjects.' However, I know their presence will +inspire me, and I shall speak to them as I always do: clearly, +impressively, and majestically. But can it be true that I am in +Moscow? Yes, there she lies." + +"Qu'on m'amene les boyars,"* said he to his suite. + + +*"Bring the boyars to me." + + +A general with a brilliant suite galloped off at once to fetch the +boyars. + +Two hours passed. Napoleon had lunched and was again standing in the +same place on the Poklonny Hill awaiting the deputation. His speech to +the boyars had already taken definite shape in his imagination. That +speech was full of dignity and greatness as Napoleon understood it. + +He was himself carried away by the tone of magnanimity he intended +to adopt toward Moscow. In his imagination he appointed days for +assemblies at the palace of the Tsars, at which Russian notables and +his own would mingle. He mentally appointed a governor, one who +would win the hearts of the people. Having learned that there were +many charitable institutions in Moscow he mentally decided that he +would shower favors on them all. He thought that, as in Africa he +had to put on a burnoose and sit in a mosque, so in Moscow he must +be beneficent like the Tsars. And in order finally to touch the hearts +of the Russians--and being like all Frenchmen unable to imagine +anything sentimental without a reference to ma chere, ma tendre, ma +pauvre mere* --he decided that he would place an inscription on all +these establishments in large letters: "This establishment is +dedicated to my dear mother." Or no, it should be simply: Maison de ma +Mere,*[2] he concluded. "But am I really in Moscow? Yes, here it +lies before me, but why is the deputation from the city so long in +appearing?" he wondered. + + +*"My dear, my tender, my poor mother." + +*[2] "House of my Mother." + + +Meanwhile an agitated consultation was being carried on in +whispers among his generals and marshals at the rear of his suite. +Those sent to fetch the deputation had returned with the news that +Moscow was empty, that everyone had left it. The faces of those who +were not conferring together were pale and perturbed. They were not +alarmed by the fact that Moscow had been abandoned by its +inhabitants (grave as that fact seemed), but by the question how to +tell the Emperor--without putting him in the terrible position of +appearing ridiculous--that he had been awaiting the boyars so long +in vain: that there were drunken mobs left in Moscow but no one +else. Some said that a deputation of some sort must be scraped +together, others disputed that opinion and maintained that the Emperor +should first be carefully and skillfully prepared, and then told the +truth. + +"He will have to be told, all the same," said some gentlemen of +the suite. "But, gentlemen..." + +The position was the more awkward because the Emperor, meditating +upon his magnanimous plans, was pacing patiently up and down before +the outspread map, occasionally glancing along the road to Moscow from +under his lifted hand with a bright and proud smile. + +"But it's impossible..." declared the gentlemen of the suite, shrugging +their shoulders but not venturing to utter the implied word--le +ridicule... + +At last the Emperor, tired of futile expectation, his actor's +instinct suggesting to him that the sublime moment having been too +long drawn out was beginning to lose its sublimity, gave a sign with +his hand. A single report of a signaling gun followed, and the troops, +who were already spread out on different sides of Moscow, moved into +the city through Tver, Kaluga, and Dorogomilov gates. Faster and +faster, vying with one another, they moved at the double or at a trot, +vanishing amid the clouds of dust they raised and making the air +ring with a deafening roar of mingling shouts. + +Drawn on by the movement of his troops Napoleon rode with them as +far as the Dorogomilov gate, but there again stopped and, +dismounting from his horse, paced for a long time by the +Kammer-Kollezski rampart, awaiting the deputation. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Meanwhile Moscow was empty. There were still people in it, perhaps a +fiftieth part of its former inhabitants had remained, but it was +empty. It was empty in the sense that a dying queenless hive is empty. + +In a queenless hive no life is left though to a superficial glance +it seems as much alive as other hives. + +The bees circle round a queenless hive in the hot beams of the midday +sun as gaily as around the living hives; from a distance it smells of +honey like the others, and bees fly in and out in the same way. But +one has only to observe that hive to realize that there is no longer +any life in it. The bees do not fly in the same way, the smell and the +sound that meet the beekeeper are not the same. To the beekeeper's tap +on the wall of the sick hive, instead of the former instant unanimous +humming of tens of thousands of bees with their abdomens threateningly +compressed, and producing by the rapid vibration of their wings an +aerial living sound, the only reply is a disconnected buzzing from +different parts of the deserted hive. From the alighting board, +instead of the former spirituous fragrant smell of honey and venom, +and the warm whiffs of crowded life, comes an odor of emptiness and +decay mingling with the smell of honey. There are no longer sentinels +sounding the alarm with their abdomens raised, and ready to die in +defense of the hive. There is no longer the measured quiet sound of +throbbing activity, like the sound of boiling water, but diverse +discordant sounds of disorder. In and out of the hive long black +robber bees smeared with honey fly timidly and shiftily. They do not +sting, but crawl away from danger. Formerly only bees laden with honey +flew into the hive, and they flew out empty; now they fly out laden. +The beekeeper opens the lower part of the hive and peers in. Instead +of black, glossy bees--tamed by toil, clinging to one another's legs +and drawing out the wax, with a ceaseless hum of labor--that used to +hang in long clusters down to the floor of the hive, drowsy shriveled +bees crawl about separately in various directions on the floor and +walls of the hive. Instead of a neatly glued floor, swept by the bees +with the fanning of their wings, there is a floor littered with bits +of wax, excrement, dying bees scarcely moving their legs, and dead +ones that have not been cleared away. + +The beekeeper opens the upper part of the hive and examines the +super. Instead of serried rows of bees sealing up every gap in the +combs and keeping the brood warm, he sees the skillful complex +structures of the combs, but no longer in their former state of +purity. All is neglected and foul. Black robber bees are swiftly and +stealthily prowling about the combs, and the short home bees, +shriveled and listless as if they were old, creep slowly about without +trying to hinder the robbers, having lost all motive and all sense +of life. Drones, bumblebees, wasps, and butterflies knock awkwardly +against the walls of the hive in their flight. Here and there among +the cells containing dead brood and honey an angry buzzing can +sometimes be heard. Here and there a couple of bees, by force of habit +and custom cleaning out the brood cells, with efforts beyond their +strength laboriously drag away a dead bee or bumblebee without knowing +why they do it. In another corner two old bees are languidly fighting, +or cleaning themselves, or feeding one another, without themselves +knowing whether they do it with friendly or hostile intent. In a third +place a crowd of bees, crushing one another, attack some victim and +fight and smother it, and the victim, enfeebled or killed, drops +from above slowly and lightly as a feather, among the heap of corpses. +The keeper opens the two center partitions to examine the brood cells. +In place of the former close dark circles formed by thousands of +bees sitting back to back and guarding the high mystery of generation, +he sees hundreds of dull, listless, and sleepy shells of bees. They +have almost all died unawares, sitting in the sanctuary they had +guarded and which is now no more. They reek of decay and death. Only a +few of them still move, rise, and feebly fly to settle on the +enemy's hand, lacking the spirit to die stinging him; the rest are +dead and fall as lightly as fish scales. The beekeeper closes the +hive, chalks a mark on it, and when he has time tears out its contents +and burns it clean. + +So in the same way Moscow was empty when Napoleon, weary, uneasy, +and morose, paced up and down in front of the Kammer-Kollezski +rampart, awaiting what to his mind was a necessary, if but formal, +observance of the proprieties--a deputation. + +In various corners of Moscow there still remained a few people +aimlessly moving about, following their old habits and hardly aware of +what they were doing. + +When with due circumspection Napoleon was informed that Moscow was +empty, he looked angrily at his informant, turned away, and silently +continued to walk to and fro. + +"My carriage!" he said. + +He took his seat beside the aide-de-camp on duty and drove into +the suburb. "Moscow deserted!" he said to himself. "What an incredible +event!" + +He did not drive into the town, but put up at an inn in the +Dorogomilov suburb. + +The coup de theatre had not come off. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The Russian troops were passing through Moscow from two o'clock at +night till two in the afternoon and bore away with them the wounded +and the last of the inhabitants who were leaving. + +The greatest crush during the movement of the troops took place at +the Stone, Moskva, and Yauza bridges. + +While the troops, dividing into two parts when passing around the +Kremlin, were thronging the Moskva and the Stone bridges, a great many +soldiers, taking advantage of the stoppage and congestion, turned back +from the bridges and slipped stealthily and silently past the church +of Vasili the Beatified and under the Borovitski gate, back up the +hill to the Red Square where some instinct told them they could easily +take things not belonging to them. Crowds of the kind seen at cheap +sales filled all the passages and alleys of the Bazaar. But there were +no dealers with voices of ingratiating affability inviting customers +to enter; there were no hawkers, nor the usual motley crowd of +female purchasers--but only soldiers, in uniforms and overcoats though +without muskets, entering the Bazaar empty-handed and silently +making their way out through its passages with bundles. Tradesmen +and their assistants (of whom there were but few) moved about among +the soldiers quite bewildered. They unlocked their shops and locked +them up again, and themselves carried goods away with the help of their +assistants. On the square in front of the Bazaar were drummers beating +the muster call. But the roll of the drums did not make the looting +soldiers run in the direction of the drum as formerly, but made +them, on the contrary, run farther away. Among the soldiers in the +shops and passages some men were to be seen in gray coats, with +closely shaven heads. Two officers, one with a scarf over his +uniform and mounted on a lean, dark-gray horse, the other in an +overcoat and on foot, stood at the corner of Ilyinka Street, +talking. A third officer galloped up to them. + +"The general orders them all to be driven out at once, without fail. +This is outrageous! Half the men have dispersed." + +"Where are you off to?... Where?..." he shouted to three infantrymen +without muskets who, holding up the skirts of their overcoats, were +slipping past him into the Bazaar passage. "Stop, you rascals!" + +"But how are you going to stop them?" replied another officer. +"There is no getting them together. The army should push on before the +rest bolt, that's all!" + +"How can one push on? They are stuck there, wedged on the bridge, +and don't move. Shouldn't we put a cordon round to prevent the rest +from running away?" + +"Come, go in there and drive them out!" shouted the senior officer. + +The officer in the scarf dismounted, called up a drummer, and went +with him into the arcade. Some soldiers started running away in a +group. A shopkeeper with red pimples on his cheeks near the nose, +and a calm, persistent, calculating expression on his plump face, +hurriedly and ostentatiously approached the officer, swinging his +arms. + +"Your honor!" said he. "Be so good as to protect us! We won't grudge +trifles, you are welcome to anything--we shall be delighted! +Pray!... I'll fetch a piece of cloth at once for such an honorable +gentleman, or even two pieces with pleasure. For we feel how it is; +but what's all this--sheer robbery! If you please, could not guards be +placed if only to let us close the shop...." + +Several shopkeepers crowded round the officer. + +"Eh, what twaddle!" said one of them, a thin, stern-looking man. +"When one's head is gone one doesn't weep for one's hair! Take what +any of you like!" And flourishing his arm energetically he turned +sideways to the officer. + +"It's all very well for you, Ivan Sidorych, to talk," said the first +tradesman angrily. "Please step inside, your honor!" + +"Talk indeed!" cried the thin one. "In my three shops here I have +a hundred thousand rubles' worth of goods. Can they be saved when +the army has gone? Eh, what people! 'Against God's might our hands +can't fight.'" + +"Come inside, your honor!" repeated the tradesman, bowing. + +The officer stood perplexed and his face showed indecision. + +"It's not my business!" he exclaimed, and strode on quickly down one +of the passages. + +From one open shop came the sound of blows and vituperation, and +just as the officer came up to it a man in a gray coat with a shaven +head was flung out violently. + +This man, bent double, rushed past the tradesman and the officer. +The officer pounced on the soldiers who were in the shops, but at that +moment fearful screams reached them from the huge crowd on the +Moskva bridge and the officer ran out into the square. + +"What is it? What is it?" he asked, but his comrade was already +galloping off past Vasili the Beatified in the direction from which +the screams came. + +The officer mounted his horse and rode after him. When he reached +the bridge he saw two unlimbered guns, the infantry crossing the +bridge, several overturned carts, and frightened and laughing faces +among the troops. Beside the cannon a cart was standing to which two +horses were harnessed. Four borzois with collars were pressing close +to the wheels. The cart was loaded high, and at the very top, beside a +child's chair with its legs in the air, sat a peasant woman uttering +piercing and desperate shrieks. He was told by his fellow officers +that the screams of the crowd and the shrieks of the woman were due to +the fact that General Ermolov, coming up to the crowd and learning +that soldiers were dispersing among the shops while crowds of +civilians blocked the bridge, had ordered two guns to be unlimbered +and made a show of firing at the bridge. The crowd, crushing one +another, upsetting carts, and shouting and squeezing desperately, +had cleared off the bridge and the troops were now moving forward. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Meanwhile, the city itself was deserted. There was hardly anyone +in the streets. The gates and shops were all closed, only here and +there round the taverns solitary shouts or drunken songs could be +heard. Nobody drove through the streets and footsteps were rarely +heard. The Povarskaya was quite still and deserted. The huge courtyard +of the Rostovs' house was littered with wisps of hay and with dung +from the horses, and not a soul was to be seen there. In the great +drawing room of the house, which had been left with all it +contained, were two people. They were the yard porter Ignat, and the +page boy Mishka, Vasilich's grandson who had stayed in Moscow with his +grandfather. Mishka had opened the clavichord and was strumming on +it with one finger. The yard porter, his arms akimbo, stood smiling +with satisfaction before the large mirror. + +"Isn't it fine, eh, Uncle Ignat?" said the boy, suddenly beginning +to strike the keyboard with both hands. + +"Only fancy!" answered Ignat, surprised at the broadening grin on +his face in the mirror. + +"Impudence! Impudence!" they heard behind them the voice of Mavra +Kuzminichna who had entered silently. "How he's grinning, the fat mug! +Is that what you're here for? Nothing's cleared away down there and +Vasilich is worn out. Just you wait a bit!" + +Ignat left off smiling, adjusted his belt, and went out of the +room with meekly downcast eyes. + +"Aunt, I did it gently," said the boy. + +"I'll give you something gently, you monkey you!" cried Mavra +Kuzminichna, raising her arm threateningly. "Go and get the samovar to +boil for your grandfather." + +Mavra Kuzminichna flicked the dust off the clavichord and closed it, +and with a deep sigh left the drawing room and locked its main door. + +Going out into the yard she paused to consider where she should go +next--to drink tea in the servants' wing with Vasilich, or into the +storeroom to put away what still lay about. + +She heard the sound of quick footsteps in the quiet street. +Someone stopped at the gate, and the latch rattled as someone tried to +open it. Mavra Kuzminichna went to the gate. + +"Who do you want?" + +"The count--Count Ilya Andreevich Rostov." + +"And who are you?" + +"An officer, I have to see him," came the reply in a pleasant, +well-bred Russian voice. + +Mavra Kuzminichna opened the gate and an officer of eighteen, with +the round face of a Rostov, entered the yard. + +"They have gone away, sir. Went away yesterday at vespertime," +said Mavra Kuzminichna cordially. + +The young officer standing in the gateway, as if hesitating +whether to enter or not, clicked his tongue. + +"Ah, how annoying!" he muttered. "I should have come yesterday.... +Ah, what a pity." + +Meanwhile, Mavra Kuzminichna was attentively and sympathetically +examining the familiar Rostov features of the young man's face, his +tattered coat and trodden-down boots. + +"What did you want to see the count for?" she asked. + +"Oh well... it can't be helped!" said he in a tone of vexation and +placed his hand on the gate as if to leave. + +He again paused in indecision. + +"You see," he suddenly said, "I am a kinsman of the count's and he +has been very kind to me. As you see" (he glanced with an amused air +and good-natured smile at his coat and boots) "my things are worn +out and I have no money, so I was going to ask the count..." + +Mavra Kuzminichna did not let him finish. + +"Just wait a minute, sir. One little moment," said she. + +And as soon as the officer let go of the gate handle she turned and, +hurrying away on her old legs, went through the back yard to the +servants' quarters. + +While Mavra Kuzminichna was running to her room the officer walked +about the yard gazing at his worn-out boots with lowered head and a +faint smile on his lips. "What a pity I've missed Uncle! What a nice +old woman! Where has she run off to? And how am I to find the +nearest way to overtake my regiment, which must by now be getting near +the Rogozhski gate?" thought he. Just then Mavra Kuzminichna +appeared from behind the corner of the house with a frightened yet +resolute look, carrying a rolled-up check kerchief in her hand. +While still a few steps from the officer she unfolded the kerchief and +took out of it a white twenty-five-ruble assignat and hastily handed +it to him. + +"If his excellency had been at home, as a kinsman he would of +course... but as it is..." + +Mavra Kuzminichna grew abashed and confused. The officer did not +decline, but took the note quietly and thanked her. + +"If the count had been at home..." Mavra Kuzminichna went on +apologetically. "Christ be with you, sir! May God preserve you!" +said she, bowing as she saw him out. + +Swaying his head and smiling as if amused at himself, the officer +ran almost at a trot through the deserted streets toward the Yauza +bridge to overtake his regiment. + +But Mavra Kuzminichna stood at the closed gate for some time with +moist eyes, pensively swaying her head and feeling an unexpected +flow of motherly tenderness and pity for the unknown young officer. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +From an unfinished house on the Varvarka, the ground floor of +which was a dramshop, came drunken shouts and songs. On benches +round the tables in a dirty little room sat some ten factory hands. +Tipsy and perspiring, with dim eyes and wide-open mouths, they were +all laboriously singing some song or other. They were singing +discordantly, arduously, and with great effort, evidently not +because they wished to sing, but because they wanted to show they were +drunk and on a spree. One, a tall, fair-haired lad in a clean blue +coat, was standing over the others. His face with its fine straight +nose would have been handsome had it not been for his thin, +compressed, twitching lips and dull, gloomy, fixed eyes. Evidently +possessed by some idea, he stood over those who were singing, and +solemnly and jerkily flourished above their heads his white arm with +the sleeve turned up to the elbow, trying unnaturally to spread out +his dirty fingers. The sleeve of his coat kept slipping down and he +always carefully rolled it up again with his left hand, as if it +were most important that the sinewy white arm he was flourishing +should be bare. In the midst of the song cries were heard, and +fighting and blows in the passage and porch. The tall lad waved his +arm. + +"Stop it!" he exclaimed peremptorily. "There's a fight, lads!" +And, still rolling up his sleeve, he went out to the porch. + +The factory hands followed him. These men, who under the +leadership of the tall lad were drinking in the dramshop that morning, +had brought the publican some skins from the factory and for this +had had drink served them. The blacksmiths from a neighboring +smithy, hearing the sounds of revelry in the tavern and supposing it +to have been broken into, wished to force their way in too and a fight +in the porch had resulted. + +The publican was fighting one of the smiths at the door, and when +the workmen came out the smith, wrenching himself free from the tavern +keeper, fell face downward on the pavement. + +Another smith tried to enter the doorway, pressing against the +publican with his chest. + +The lad with the turned-up sleeve gave the smith a blow in the +face and cried wildly: "They're fighting us, lads!" + +At that moment the first smith got up and, scratching his bruised +face to make it bleed, shouted in a tearful voice: "Police! Murder!... +They've killed a man, lads!" + +"Oh, gracious me, a man beaten to death--killed!..." screamed a +woman coming out of a gate close by. + +A crowd gathered round the bloodstained smith. + +"Haven't you robbed people enough--taking their last shirts?" said a +voice addressing the publican. "What have you killed a man for, you +thief?" + +The tall lad, standing in the porch, turned his bleared eyes from +the publican to the smith and back again as if considering whom he +ought to fight now. + +"Murderer!" he shouted suddenly to the publican. "Bind him, lads!" + +"I daresay you would like to bind me!" shouted the publican, pushing +away the men advancing on him, and snatching his cap from his head +he flung it on the ground. + +As if this action had some mysterious and menacing significance, the +workmen surrounding the publican paused in indecision. + +"I know the law very well, mates! I'll take the matter to the +captain of police. You think I won't get to him? Robbery is not +permitted to anybody now a days!" shouted the publican, picking up his +cap. + +"Come along then! Come along then!" the publican and the tall +young fellow repeated one after the other, and they moved up the +street together. + +The bloodstained smith went beside them. The factory hands and +others followed behind, talking and shouting. + +At the corner of the Moroseyka, opposite a large house with closed +shutters and bearing a bootmaker's signboard, stood a score of thin, +worn-out, gloomy-faced bootmakers, wearing overalls and long +tattered coats. + +"He should pay folks off properly," a thin workingman, with frowning +brows and a straggly beard, was saying. + +"But he's sucked our blood and now he thinks he's quit of us. He's +been misleading us all the week and now that he's brought us to this +pass he's made off." + +On seeing the crowd and the bloodstained man the workman ceased +speaking, and with eager curiosity all the bootmakers joined the +moving crowd. + +"Where are all the folks going?" + +"Why, to the police, of course!" + +"I say, is it true that we have been beaten?" "And what did you +think? Look what folks are saying." + +Questions and answers were heard. The publican, taking advantage +of the increased crowd, dropped behind and returned to his tavern. + +The tall youth, not noticing the disappearance of his foe, waved his +bare arm and went on talking incessantly, attracting general attention +to himself. It was around him that the people chiefly crowded, +expecting answers from him to the questions that occupied all their +minds. + +"He must keep order, keep the law, that's what the government is +there for. Am I not right, good Christians?" said the tall youth, with +a scarcely perceptible smile. "He thinks there's no government! How +can one do without government? Or else there would be plenty who'd rob +us." + +"Why talk nonsense?" rejoined voices in the crowd. "Will they give +up Moscow like this? They told you that for fun, and you believed +it! Aren't there plenty of troops on the march? Let him in, indeed! +That's what the government is for. You'd better listen to what +people are saying," said some of the mob pointing to the tall youth. + +By the wall of China-Town a smaller group of people were gathered +round a man in a frieze coat who held a paper in his hand. + +"An ukase, they are reading an ukase! Reading an ukase!" cried +voices in the crowd, and the people rushed toward the reader. + +The man in the frieze coat was reading the broadsheet of August 31 +When the crowd collected round him he seemed confused, but at the +demand of the tall lad who had pushed his way up to him, he began in a +rather tremulous voice to read the sheet from the beginning. + +"Early tomorrow I shall go to his Serene Highness," he read +("Sirin Highness," said the tall fellow with a triumphant smile on his +lips and a frown on his brow), "to consult with him to act, and to aid +the army to exterminate these scoundrels. We too will take part..." +the reader went on, and then paused ("Do you see," shouted the youth +victoriously, "he's going to clear up the whole affair for +you...."), "in destroying them, and will send these visitors to the +devil. I will come back to dinner, and we'll set to work. We will +do, completely do, and undo these scoundrels." + +The last words were read out in the midst of complete silence. The +tall lad hung his head gloomily. It was evident that no one had +understood the last part. In particular, the words "I will come back +to dinner," evidently displeased both reader and audience. The +people's minds were tuned to a high pitch and this was too simple +and needlessly comprehensible--it was what any one of them might +have said and therefore was what an ukase emanating from the highest +authority should not say. + +They all stood despondent and silent. The tall youth moved his +lips and swayed from side to side. + +"We should ask him... that's he himself?"... "Yes, ask him +indeed!... Why not? He'll explain"... voices in the rear of the +crowd were suddenly heard saying, and the general attention turned +to the police superintendent's trap which drove into the square +attended by two mounted dragoons. + +The superintendent of police, who had gone that morning by Count +Rostopchin's orders to burn the barges and had in connection with that +matter acquired a large sum of money which was at that moment in his +pocket, on seeing a crowd bearing down upon him told his coachman to +stop. + +"What people are these?" he shouted to the men, who were moving +singly and timidly in the direction of his trap. + +"What people are these?" he shouted again, receiving no answer. + +"Your honor..." replied the shopman in the frieze coat, "your honor, +in accord with the proclamation of his highest excellency the count, +they desire to serve, not sparing their lives, and it is not any +kind of riot, but as his highest excellence said..." + +"The count has not left, he is here, and an order will be issued +concerning you," said the superintendent of police. "Go on!" he +ordered his coachman. + +The crowd halted, pressing around those who had heard what the +superintendent had said, and looking at the departing trap. + +The superintendent of police turned round at that moment with a +scared look, said something to his coachman, and his horses +increased their speed. + +"It's a fraud, lads! Lead the way to him, himself!" shouted the tall +youth. "Don't let him go, lads! Let him answer us! Keep him!" +shouted different people and the people dashed in pursuit of the trap. + +Following the superintendent of police and talking loudly the +crowd went in the direction of the Lubyanka Street. + +"There now, the gentry and merchants have gone away and left us to +perish. Do they think we're dogs?" voices in the crowd were heard +saying more and more frequently. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +On the evening of the first of September, after his interview with +Kutuzov, Count Rostopchin had returned to Moscow mortified and +offended because he had not been invited to attend the council of war, +and because Kutuzov had paid no attention to his offer to take part in +the defense of the city; amazed also at the novel outlook revealed +to him at the camp, which treated the tranquillity of the capital +and its patriotic fervor as not merely secondary but quite +irrelevant and unimportant matters. Distressed, offended, and +surprised by all this, Rostopchin had returned to Moscow. After supper +he lay down on a sofa without undressing, and was awakened soon +after midnight by a courier bringing him a letter from Kutuzov. This +letter requested the count to send police officers to guide the troops +through the town, as the army was retreating to the Ryazan road beyond +Moscow. This was not news to Rostopchin. He had known that Moscow +would be abandoned not merely since his interview the previous day +with Kutuzov on the Poklonny Hill but ever since the battle of +Borodino, for all the generals who came to Moscow after that battle +had said unanimously that it was impossible to fight another battle, +and since then the government property had been removed every night, +and half the inhabitants had left the city with Rostopchin's own +permission. Yet all the same this information astonished and irritated +the count, coming as it did in the form of a simple note with an order +from Kutuzov, and received at night, breaking in on his beauty sleep. + +When later on in his memoirs Count Rostopchin explained his +actions at this time, he repeatedly says that he was then actuated +by two important considerations: to maintain tranquillity in Moscow +and expedite the departure of the inhabitants. If one accepts this +twofold aim all Rostopchin's actions appear irreproachable. "Why +were the holy relics, the arms, ammunition, gunpowder, and stores of +corn not removed? Why were thousands of inhabitants deceived into +believing that Moscow would not be given up--and thereby ruined?" +"To preserve the tranquillity of the city," explains Count Rostopchin. +"Why were bundles of useless papers from the government offices, and +Leppich's balloon and other articles removed?" "To leave the town +empty," explains Count Rostopchin. One need only admit that public +tranquillity is in danger and any action finds a justification. + +All the horrors of the reign of terror were based only on solicitude +for public tranquillity. + +On what, then, was Count Rostopchin's fear for the tranquillity of +Moscow based in 1812? What reason was there for assuming any +probability of an uprising in the city? The inhabitants were leaving +it and the retreating troops were filling it. Why should that cause +the masses to riot? + +Neither in Moscow nor anywhere in Russia did anything resembling +an insurrection ever occur when the enemy entered a town. More than +ten thousand people were still in Moscow on the first and second of +September, and except for a mob in the governor's courtyard, assembled +there at his bidding, nothing happened. It is obvious that there would +have been even less reason to expect a disturbance among the people if +after the battle of Borodino, when the surrender of Moscow became +certain or at least probable, Rostopchin instead of exciting the +people by distributing arms and broadsheets had taken steps to +remove all the holy relics, the gunpowder, munitions, and money, and +had told the population plainly that the town would be abandoned. + +Rostopchin, though he had patriotic sentiments, was a sanguine and +impulsive man who had always moved in the highest administrative +circles and had no understanding at all of the people he supposed +himself to be guiding. Ever since the enemy's entry into Smolensk he +had in imagination been playing the role of director of the popular +feeling of "the heart of Russia." Not only did it seem to him (as to +all administrators) that he controlled the external actions of +Moscow's inhabitants, but he also thought he controlled their mental +attitude by means of his broadsheets and posters, written in a +coarse tone which the people despise in their own class and do not +understand from those in authority. Rostopchin was so pleased with the +fine role of leader of popular feeling, and had grown so used to it, +that the necessity of relinquishing that role and abandoning Moscow +without any heroic display took him unawares and he suddenly felt +the ground slip away from under his feet, so that he positively did +not know what to do. Though he knew it was coming, he did not till the +last moment wholeheartedly believe that Moscow would be abandoned, and +did not prepare for it. The inhabitants left against his wishes. If +the government offices were removed, this was only done on the +demand of officials to whom the count yielded reluctantly. He was +absorbed in the role he had created for himself. As is often the +case with those gifted with an ardent imagination, though he had +long known that Moscow would be abandoned he knew it only with his +intellect, he did not believe it in his heart and did not adapt +himself mentally to this new position of affairs. + +All his painstaking and energetic activity (in how far it was useful +and had any effect on the people is another question) had been +simply directed toward arousing in the masses his own feeling of +patriotic hatred of the French. + +But when events assumed their true historical character, when +expressing hatred for the French in words proved insufficient, when it +was not even possible to express that hatred by fighting a battle, +when self-confidence was of no avail in relation to the one question +before Moscow, when the whole population streamed out of Moscow as one +man, abandoning their belongings and proving by that negative action +all the depth of their national feeling, then the role chosen by +Rostopchin suddenly appeared senseless. He unexpectedly felt himself +ridiculous, weak, and alone, with no ground to stand on. + +When, awakened from his sleep, he received that cold, peremptory +note from Kutuzov, he felt the more irritated the more he felt himself +to blame. All that he had been specially put in charge of, the state +property which he should have removed, was still in Moscow and it +was no longer possible to take the whole of it away. + +"Who is to blame for it? Who has let things come to such a pass?" he +ruminated. "Not I, of course. I had everything ready. I had Moscow +firmly in hand. And this is what they have let it come to! Villains! +Traitors!" he thought, without clearly defining who the villains and +traitors were, but feeling it necessary to hate those traitors whoever +they might be who were to blame for the false and ridiculous +position in which he found himself. + +All that night Count Rostopchin issued orders, for which people came +to him from all parts of Moscow. Those about him had never seen the +count so morose and irritable. + +"Your excellency, the Director of the Registrar's Department has +sent for instructions... From the Consistory, from the Senate, from +the University, from the Foundling Hospital, the Suffragan has sent... +asking for information.... What are your orders about the Fire +Brigade? From the governor of the prison... from the superintendent of +the lunatic asylum..." All night long such announcements were +continually being received by the count. + +To all these inquiries he gave brief and angry replies indicating +that orders from him were not now needed, that the whole affair, +carefully prepared by him, had now been ruined by somebody, and that +that somebody would have to bear the whole responsibility for all that +might happen. + +"Oh, tell that blockhead," he said in reply to the question from the +Registrar's Department, "that he should remain to guard his documents. +Now why are you asking silly questions about the Fire Brigade? They +have horses, let them be off to Vladimir, and not leave them to the +French." + +"Your excellency, the superintendent of the lunatic asylum has come: +what are your commands?" + +"My commands? Let them go away, that's all.... And let the +lunatics out into the town. When lunatics command our armies God +evidently means these other madmen to be free." + +In reply to an inquiry about the convicts in the prison, Count +Rostopchin shouted angrily at the governor: + +"Do you expect me to give you two battalions--which we have not +got--for a convoy? Release them, that's all about it!" + +"Your excellency, there are some political prisoners, Meshkov, +Vereshchagin..." + +"Vereshchagin! Hasn't he been hanged yet?" shouted Rostopchin. +"Bring him to me!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Toward nine o'clock in the morning, when the troops were already +moving through Moscow, nobody came to the count any more for +instructions. Those who were able to get away were going of their +own accord, those who remained behind decided for themselves what they +must do. + +The count ordered his carriage that he might drive to Sokolniki, and +sat in his study with folded hands, morose, sallow, and taciturn. + +In quiet and untroubled times it seems to every administrator that +it is only by his efforts that the whole population under his rule +is kept going, and in this consciousness of being indispensable +every administrator finds the chief reward of his labor and efforts. +While the sea of history remains calm the ruler-administrator in his +frail bark, holding on with a boat hook to the ship of the people +and himself moving, naturally imagines that his efforts move the +ship he is holding on to. But as soon as a storm arises and the sea +begins to heave and the ship to move, such a delusion is no longer +possible. The ship moves independently with its own enormous motion, +the boat hook no longer reaches the moving vessel, and suddenly the +administrator, instead of appearing a ruler and a source of power, +becomes an insignificant, useless, feeble man. + +Rostopchin felt this, and it was this which exasperated him. + +The superintendent of police, whom the crowd had stopped, went in to +see him at the same time as an adjutant who informed the count that +the horses were harnessed. They were both pale, and the superintendent +of police, after reporting that he had executed the instructions he +had received, informed the count that an immense crowd had collected +in the courtyard and wished to see him. + +Without saying a word Rostopchin rose and walked hastily to his +light, luxurious drawing room, went to the balcony door, took hold +of the handle, let it go again, and went to the window from which he +had a better view of the whole crowd. The tall lad was standing in +front, flourishing his arm and saying something with a stern look. The +blood stained smith stood beside him with a gloomy face. A drone of +voices was audible through the closed window. + +"Is my carriage ready?" asked Rostopchin, stepping back from the +window. + +"It is, your excellency," replied the adjutant. + +Rostopchin went again to the balcony door. + +"But what do they want?" he asked the superintendent of police. + +"Your excellency, they say they have got ready, according to your +orders, to go against the French, and they shouted something about +treachery. But it is a turbulent crowd, your excellency--I hardly +managed to get away from it. Your excellency, I venture to suggest..." + +"You may go. I don't need you to tell me what to do!" exclaimed +Rostopchin angrily. + +He stood by the balcony door looking at the crowd. + +"This is what they have done with Russia! This is what they have +done with me!" thought he, full of an irrepressible fury that welled +up within him against the someone to whom what was happening might +be attributed. As often happens with passionate people, he was +mastered by anger but was still seeking an object on which to vent it. +"Here is that mob, the dregs of the people," he thought as he gazed at +the crowd: "this rabble they have roused by their folly! They want a +victim," he thought as he looked at the tall lad flourishing his +arm. And this thought occurred to him just because he himself +desired a victim, something on which to vent his rage. + +"Is the carriage ready?" he asked again. + +"Yes, your excellency. What are your orders about Vereshchagin? He +is waiting at the porch," said the adjutant. + +"Ah!" exclaimed Rostopchin, as if struck by an unexpected +recollection. + +And rapidly opening the door he went resolutely out onto the +balcony. The talking instantly ceased, hats and caps were doffed, +and all eyes were raised to the count. + +"Good morning, lads!" said the count briskly and loudly. "Thank +you for coming. I'll come out to you in a moment, but we must first +settle with the villain. We must punish the villain who has caused the +ruin of Moscow. Wait for me!" + +And the count stepped as briskly back into the room and slammed +the door behind him. + +A murmur of approbation and satisfaction ran through the crowd. +"He'll settle with all the villains, you'll see! And you said the +French... He'll show you what law is!" the mob were saying as if +reproving one another for their lack of confidence. + +A few minutes later an officer came hurriedly out of the front door, +gave an order, and the dragoons formed up in line. The crowd moved +eagerly from the balcony toward the porch. Rostopchin, coming out +there with quick angry steps, looked hastily around as if seeking +someone. + +"Where is he?" he inquired. And as he spoke he saw a young man +coming round the corner of the house between two dragoons. He had a +long thin neck, and his head, that had been half shaved, was again +covered by short hair. This young man was dressed in a threadbare blue +cloth coat lined with fox fur, that had once been smart, and dirty +hempen convict trousers, over which were pulled his thin, dirty, +trodden-down boots. On his thin, weak legs were heavy chains which +hampered his irresolute movements. + +"Ah!" said Rostopchin, hurriedly turning away his eyes from the +young man in the fur-lined coat and pointing to the bottom step of the +porch. "Put him there." + +The young man in his clattering chains stepped clumsily to the +spot indicated, holding away with one finger the coat collar which +chafed his neck, turned his long neck twice this way and that, sighed, +and submissively folded before him his thin hands, unused to work. + +For several seconds while the young man was taking his place on +the step the silence continued. Only among the back rows of the +people, who were all pressing toward the one spot, could sighs, +groans, and the shuffling of feet be heard. + +While waiting for the young man to take his place on the step +Rostopchin stood frowning and rubbing his face with his hand. + +"Lads!" said he, with a metallic ring in his voice. "This man, +Vereshchagin, is the scoundrel by whose doing Moscow is perishing." + +The young man in the fur-lined coat, stooping a little, stood in a +submissive attitude, his fingers clasped before him. His emaciated +young face, disfigured by the half-shaven head, hung down +hopelessly. At the count's first words he raised it slowly and +looked up at him as if wishing to say something or at least to meet +his eye. But Rostopchin did not look at him. A vein in the young man's +long thin neck swelled like a cord and went blue behind the ear, and +suddenly his face flushed. + +All eyes were fixed on him. He looked at the crowd, and rendered +more hopeful by the expression he read on the faces there, he smiled +sadly and timidly, and lowering his head shifted his feet on the step. + +"He has betrayed his Tsar and his country, he has gone over to +Bonaparte. He alone of all the Russians has disgraced the Russian +name, he has caused Moscow to perish," said Rostopchin in a sharp, +even voice, but suddenly he glanced down at Vereshchagin who continued +to stand in the same submissive attitude. As if inflamed by the sight, +he raised his arm and addressed the people, almost shouting: + +"Deal with him as you think fit! I hand him over to you." + +The crowd remained silent and only pressed closer and closer to +one another. To keep one another back, to breathe in that stifling +atmosphere, to be unable to stir, and to await something unknown, +uncomprehended, and terrible, was becoming unbearable. Those +standing in front, who had seen and heard what had taken place +before them, all stood with wide open eyes and mouths, straining +with all their strength, and held back the crowd that was pushing +behind them. + +"Beat him!... Let the traitor perish and not disgrace the Russian +name!" shouted Rostopchin. "Cut him down. I command it." + +Hearing not so much the words as the angry tone of Rostopchin's +voice, the crowd moaned and heaved forward, but again paused. + +"Count!" exclaimed the timid yet theatrical voice of Vereshchagin in +the midst of the momentary silence that ensued, "Count! One God is +above us both...." He lifted his head and again the thick vein in +his thin neck filled with blood and the color rapidly came and went in +his face. + +He did not finish what he wished to say. + +"Cut him down! I command it..." shouted Rostopchin, suddenly growing +pale like Vereshchagin. + +"Draw sabers!" cried the dragoon officer, drawing his own. + +Another still stronger wave flowed through the crowd and reaching +the front ranks carried it swaying to the very steps of the porch. The +tall youth, with a stony look on his face, and rigid and uplifted arm, +stood beside Vereshchagin. + +"Saber him!" the dragoon officer almost whispered. + +And one of the soldiers, his face all at once distorted with fury, +struck Vereshchagin on the head with the blunt side of his saber. + +"Ah!" cried Vereshchagin in meek surprise, looking round with a +frightened glance as if not understanding why this was done to him. +A similar moan of surprise and horror ran through the crowd. "O Lord!" +exclaimed a sorrowful voice. + +But after the exclamation of surprise that had escaped from +Vereshchagin he uttered a plaintive cry of pain, and that cry was +fatal. The barrier of human feeling, strained to the utmost, that +had held the crowd in check suddenly broke. The crime had begun and +must now be completed. The plaintive moan of reproach was drowned by +the threatening and angry roar of the crowd. Like the seventh and last +wave that shatters a ship, that last irresistible wave burst from +the rear and reached the front ranks, carrying them off their feet and +engulfing them all. The dragoon was about to repeat his blow. +Vereshchagin with a cry of horror, covering his head with his hands, +rushed toward the crowd. The tall youth, against whom he stumbled, +seized his thin neck with his hands and, yelling wildly, fell with him +under the feet of the pressing, struggling crowd. + +Some beat and tore at Vereshchagin, others at the tall youth. And +the screams of those that were being trampled on and of those who +tried to rescue the tall lad only increased the fury of the crowd. +It was a long time before the dragoons could extricate the bleeding +youth, beaten almost to death. And for a long time, despite the +feverish haste with which the mob tried to end the work that had +been begun, those who were hitting, throttling, and tearing at +Vereshchagin were unable to kill him, for the crowd pressed from all +sides, swaying as one mass with them in the center and rendering it +impossible for them either to kill him or let him go. + +"Hit him with an ax, eh!... Crushed?... Traitor, he sold +Christ.... Still alive... tenacious... serves him right! Torture +serves a thief right. Use the hatchet!... What--still alive?" + +Only when the victim ceased to struggle and his cries changed to a +long-drawn, measured death rattle did the crowd around his +prostrate, bleeding corpse begin rapidly to change places. Each one +came up, glanced at what had been done, and with horror, reproach, and +astonishment pushed back again. + +"O Lord! The people are like wild beasts! How could he be alive?" +voices in the crowd could be heard saying. "Quite a young fellow +too... must have been a merchant's son. What men!... and they say he's +not the right one.... How not the right one?... O Lord! And there's +another has been beaten too--they say he's nearly done for.... Oh, the +people... Aren't they afraid of sinning?..." said the same mob now, +looking with pained distress at the dead body with its long, thin, +half-severed neck and its livid face stained with blood and dust. + +A painstaking police officer, considering the presence of a corpse +in his excellency's courtyard unseemly, told the dragoons to take it +away. Two dragoons took it by its distorted legs and dragged it +along the ground. The gory, dust-stained, half-shaven head with its +long neck trailed twisting along the ground. The crowd shrank back +from it. + +At the moment when Vereshchagin fell and the crowd closed in with +savage yells and swayed about him, Rostopchin suddenly turned pale +and, instead of going to the back entrance where his carriage +awaited him, went with hurried steps and bent head, not knowing +where and why, along the passage leading to the rooms on the ground +floor. The count's face was white and he could not control the +feverish twitching of his lower jaw. + +"This way, your excellency... Where are you going?... This way, +please..." said a trembling, frightened voice behind him. + +Count Rostopchin was unable to reply and, turning obediently, went +in the direction indicated. At the back entrance stood his caleche. +The distant roar of the yelling crowd was audible even there. He +hastily took his seat and told the coachman to drive him to his +country house in Sokolniki. + +When they reached the Myasnitski Street and could no longer hear the +shouts of the mob, the count began to repent. He remembered with +dissatisfaction the agitation and fear he had betrayed before his +subordinates. "The mob is terrible--disgusting," he said to himself in +French. "They are like wolves whom nothing but flesh can appease." +"Count! One God is above us both!"--Vereshchagin's words suddenly +recurred to him, and a disagreeable shiver ran down his back. But this +was only a momentary feeling and Count Rostopchin smiled +disdainfully at himself. "I had other duties," thought he. "The people +had to be appeased. Many other victims have perished and are perishing +for the public good"--and he began thinking of his social duties to +his family and to the city entrusted to him, and of himself--not +himself as Theodore Vasilyevich Rostopchin (he fancied that Theodore +Vasilyevich Rostopchin was sacrificing himself for the public good) +but himself as governor, the representative of authority and of the +Tsar. "Had I been simply Theodore Vasilyevich my course of action +would have been quite different, but it was my duty to safeguard my +life and dignity as commander in chief." + +Lightly swaying on the flexible springs of his carriage and no +longer hearing the terrible sounds of the crowd, Rostopchin grew +physically calm and, as always happens, as soon as he became +physically tranquil his mind devised reasons why he should be mentally +tranquil too. The thought which tranquillized Rostopchin was not a new +one. Since the world began and men have killed one another no one +has ever committed such a crime against his fellow man without +comforting himself with this same idea. This idea is le bien public, +the hypothetical welfare of other people. + +To a man not swayed by passion that welfare is never certain, but he +who commits such a crime always knows just where that welfare lies. +And Rostopchin now knew it. + +Not only did his reason not reproach him for what he had done, but +he even found cause for self-satisfaction in having so successfully +contrived to avail himself of a convenient opportunity to punish a +criminal and at the same time pacify the mob. + +"Vereshchagin was tried and condemned to death," thought +Rostopchin (though the Senate had only condemned Vereshchagin to +hard labor), "he was a traitor and a spy. I could not let him go +unpunished and so I have killed two birds with one stone: to appease +the mob I gave them a victim and at the same time punished a +miscreant." + +Having reached his country house and begun to give orders about +domestic arrangements, the count grew quite tranquil. + +Half an hour later he was driving with his fast horses across the +Sokolniki field, no longer thinking of what had occurred but +considering what was to come. He was driving to the Yauza bridge where +he had heard that Kutuzov was. Count Rostopchin was mentally preparing +the angry and stinging reproaches he meant to address to Kutuzov for +his deception. He would make that foxy old courtier feel that the +responsibility for all the calamities that would follow the +abandonment of the city and the ruin of Russia (as Rostopchin regarded +it) would fall upon his doting old head. Planning beforehand what he +would say to Kutuzov, Rostopchin turned angrily in his caleche and +gazed sternly from side to side. + +The Sokolniki field was deserted. Only at the end of it, in front of +the almshouse and the lunatic asylum, could be seen some people in +white and others like them walking singly across the field shouting +and gesticulating. + +One of these was running to cross the path of Count Rostopchin's +carriage, and the count himself, his coachman, and his dragoons looked +with vague horror and curiosity at these released lunatics and +especially at the one running toward them. + +Swaying from side to side on his long, thin legs in his fluttering +dressing gown, this lunatic was running impetuously, his gaze fixed on +Rostopchin, shouting something in a hoarse voice and making signs to +him to stop. The lunatic's solemn, gloomy face was thin and yellow, +with its beard growing in uneven tufts. His black, agate pupils with +saffron-yellow whites moved restlessly near the lower eyelids. + +"Stop! Pull up, I tell you!" he cried in a piercing voice, and again +shouted something breathlessly with emphatic intonations and gestures. + +Coming abreast of the caleche he ran beside it. + +"Thrice have they slain me, thrice have I risen from the dead. +They stoned me, crucified me... I shall rise... shall rise... shall +rise. They have torn my body. The kingdom of God will be overthrown... +Thrice will I overthrow it and thrice re-establish it!" he cried, +raising his voice higher and higher. + +Count Rostopchin suddenly grew pale as he had done when the crowd +closed in on Vereshchagin. He turned away. "Go fas... faster!" he +cried in a trembling voice to his coachman. The caleche flew over +the ground as fast as the horses could draw it, but for a long time +Count Rostopchin still heard the insane despairing screams growing +fainter in the distance, while his eyes saw nothing but the +astonished, frightened, bloodstained face of "the traitor" in the +fur-lined coat. + +Recent as that mental picture was, Rostopchin already felt that it +had cut deep into his heart and drawn blood. Even now he felt +clearly that the gory trace of that recollection would not pass with +time, but that the terrible memory would, on the contrary, dwell in +his heart ever more cruelly and painfully to the end of his life. He +seemed still to hear the sound of his own words: "Cut him down! I +command it...." + +"Why did I utter those words? It was by some accident I said +them.... I need not have said them," he thought. "And then nothing +would have happened." He saw the frightened and then infuriated face +of the dragoon who dealt the blow, the look of silent, timid +reproach that boy in the fur-lined coat had turned upon him. "But I +did not do it for my own sake. I was bound to act that way.... The +mob, the traitor... the public welfare," thought he. + +Troops were still crowding at the Yauza bridge. It was hot. Kutuzov, +dejected and frowning, sat on a bench by the bridge toying with his +whip in the sand when a caleche dashed up noisily. A man in a +general's uniform with plumes in his hat went up to Kutuzov and said +something in French. It was Count Rostopchin. He told Kutuzov that +he had come because Moscow, the capital, was no more and only the army +remained. + +"Things would have been different if your Serene Highness had not +told me that you would not abandon Moscow without another battle; +all this would not have happened," he said. + +Kutuzov looked at Rostopchin as if, not grasping what was said to +him, he was trying to read something peculiar written at that moment +on the face of the man addressing him. Rostopchin grew confused and +became silent. Kutuzov slightly shook his head and not taking his +penetrating gaze from Rostopchin's face muttered softly: + +"No! I shall not give up Moscow without a battle!" + +Whether Kutuzov was thinking of something entirely different when he +spoke those words, or uttered them purposely, knowing them to be +meaningless, at any rate Rostopchin made no reply and hastily left +him. And strange to say, the Governor of Moscow, the proud Count +Rostopchin, took up a Cossack whip and went to the bridge where he +began with shouts to drive on the carts that blocked the way. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Toward four o'clock in the afternoon Murat's troops were entering +Moscow. In front rode a detachment of Wurttemberg hussars and behind +them rode the King of Naples himself accompanied by a numerous suite. + +About the middle of the Arbat Street, near the Church of the +Miraculous Icon of St. Nicholas, Murat halted to await news from the +advanced detachment as to the condition in which they had found the +citadel, le Kremlin. + +Around Murat gathered a group of those who had remained in Moscow. +They all stared in timid bewilderment at the strange, long-haired +commander dressed up in feathers and gold. + +"Is that their Tsar himself? He's not bad!" low voices could be +heard saying. + +An interpreter rode up to the group. + +"Take off your cap... your caps!" These words went from one to +another in the crowd. The interpreter addressed an old porter and +asked if it was far to the Kremlin. The porter, listening in +perplexity to the unfamiliar Polish accent and not realizing that +the interpreter was speaking Russian, did not understand what was +being said to him and slipped behind the others. + +Murat approached the interpreter and told him to ask where the +Russian army was. One of the Russians understood what was asked and +several voices at once began answering the interpreter. A French +officer, returning from the advanced detachment, rode up to Murat +and reported that the gates of the citadel had been barricaded and +that there was probably an ambuscade there. + +"Good!" said Murat and, turning to one of the gentlemen in his +suite, ordered four light guns to be moved forward to fire at the +gates. + +The guns emerged at a trot from the column following Murat and +advanced up the Arbat. When they reached the end of the Vozdvizhenka +Street they halted and drew in the Square. Several French officers +superintended the placing of the guns and looked at the Kremlin +through field glasses. + +The bells in the Kremlin were ringing for vespers, and this sound +troubled the French. They imagined it to be a call to arms. A few +infantrymen ran to the Kutafyev Gate. Beams and wooden screens had +been put there, and two musket shots rang out from under the gate as +soon as an officer and men began to run toward it. A general who was +standing by the guns shouted some words of command to the officer, and +the latter ran back again with his men. + +The sound of three more shots came from the gate. + +One shot struck a French soldier's foot, and from behind the screens +came the strange sound of a few voices shouting. Instantly as at a +word of command the expression of cheerful serenity on the faces of +the French general, officers, and men changed to one of determined +concentrated readiness for strife and suffering. To all of them from +the marshal to the least soldier, that place was not the Vozdvizhenka, +Mokhavaya, or Kutafyev Street, nor the Troitsa Gate (places familiar +in Moscow), but a new battlefield which would probably prove +sanguinary. And all made ready for that battle. The cries from the +gates ceased. The guns were advanced, the artillerymen blew the ash +off their linstocks, and an officer gave the word "Fire!" This was +followed by two whistling sounds of canister shot, one after +another. The shot rattled against the stone of the gate and upon the +wooden beams and screens, and two wavering clouds of smoke rose over +the Square. + +A few instants after the echo of the reports resounding over the +stone-built Kremlin had died away the French heard a strange sound +above their head. Thousands of crows rose above the walls and +circled in the air, cawing and noisily flapping their wings. +Together with that sound came a solitary human cry from the gateway +and amid the smoke appeared the figure of a bareheaded man in a +peasant's coat. He grasped a musket and took aim at the French. +"Fire!" repeated the officer once more, and the reports of a musket +and of two cannon shots were heard simultaneously. The gate was again +hidden by smoke. + +Nothing more stirred behind the screens and the French infantry +soldiers and officers advanced to the gate. In the gateway lay three +wounded and four dead. Two men in peasant coats ran away at the foot +of the wall, toward the Znamenka. + +"Clear that away!" said the officer, pointing to the beams and the +corpses, and the French soldiers, after dispatching the wounded, threw +the corpses over the parapet. + +Who these men were nobody knew. "Clear that away!" was all that +was said of them, and they were thrown over the parapet and removed +later on that they might not stink. Thiers alone dedicates a few +eloquent lines to their memory: "These wretches had occupied the +sacred citadel, having supplied themselves with guns from the arsenal, +and fired" (the wretches) "at the French. Some of them were sabered +and the Kremlin was purged of their presence." + +Murat was informed that the way had been cleared. The French entered +the gates and began pitching their camp in the Senate Square. Out of +the windows of the Senate House the soldiers threw chairs into the +Square for fuel and kindled fires there. + +Other detachments passed through the Kremlin and encamped along +the Moroseyka, the Lubyanka, and Pokrovka Streets. Others quartered +themselves along the Vozdvizhenka, the Nikolski, and the Tverskoy +Streets. No masters of the houses being found anywhere, the French +were not billeted on the inhabitants as is usual in towns but lived in +it as in a camp. + +Though tattered, hungry, worn out, and reduced to a third of their +original number, the French entered Moscow in good marching order. +It was a weary and famished, but still a fighting and menacing army. +But it remained an army only until its soldiers had dispersed into +their different lodgings. As soon as the men of the various +regiments began to disperse among the wealthy and deserted houses, the +army was lost forever and there came into being something nondescript, +neither citizens nor soldiers but what are known as marauders. When +five weeks later these same men left Moscow, they no longer formed +an army. They were a mob of marauders, each carrying a quantity of +articles which seemed to him valuable or useful. The aim of each man +when he left Moscow was no longer, as it had been, to conquer, but +merely to keep what he had acquired. Like a monkey which puts its +paw into the narrow neck of a jug, and having seized a handful of nuts +will not open its fist for fear of losing what it holds, and therefore +perishes, the French when they left Moscow had inevitably to perish +because they carried their loot with them, yet to abandon what they +had stolen was as impossible for them as it is for the monkey to +open its paw and let go of its nuts. Ten minutes after each regiment +had entered a Moscow district, not a soldier or officer was left. +Men in military uniforms and Hessian boots could be seen through the +windows, laughing and walking through the rooms. In cellars and +storerooms similar men were busy among the provisions, and in the +yards unlocking or breaking open coach house and stable doors, +lighting fires in kitchens and kneading and baking bread with +rolled-up sleeves, and cooking; or frightening, amusing, or +caressing women and children. There were many such men both in the +shops and houses--but there was no army. + +Order after order was issued by the French commanders that day +forbidding the men to disperse about the town, sternly forbidding +any violence to the inhabitants or any looting, and announcing a +roll call for that very evening. But despite all these measures the +men, who had till then constituted an army, flowed all over the +wealthy, deserted city with its comforts and plentiful supplies. As +a hungry herd of cattle keeps well together when crossing a barren +field, but gets out of hand and at once disperses uncontrollably as +soon as it reaches rich pastures, so did the army disperse all over +the wealthy city. + +No residents were left in Moscow, and the soldiers--like water +percolating through sand--spread irresistibly through the city in +all directions from the Kremlin into which they had first marched. The +cavalry, on entering a merchant's house that had been abandoned and +finding there stabling more than sufficient for their horses, went on, +all the same, to the next house which seemed to them better. Many of +them appropriated several houses, chalked their names on them, and +quarreled and even fought with other companies for them. Before they +had had time to secure quarters the soldiers ran out into the +streets to see the city and, hearing that everything had been +abandoned, rushed to places where valuables were to be had for the +taking. The officers followed to check the soldiers and were +involuntarily drawn into doing the same. In Carriage Row carriages had +been left in the shops, and generals flocked there to select +caleches and coaches for themselves. The few inhabitants who had +remained invited commanding officers to their houses, hoping thereby +to secure themselves from being plundered. There were masses of wealth +and there seemed no end to it. All around the quarters occupied by the +French were other regions still unexplored and unoccupied where, +they thought, yet greater riches might be found. And Moscow engulfed +the army ever deeper and deeper. When water is spilled on dry ground +both the dry ground and the water disappear and mud results; and in +the same way the entry of the famished army into the rich and deserted +city resulted in fires and looting and the destruction of both the +army and the wealthy city. + + +The French attributed the Fire of Moscow au patriotisme feroce de +Rostopchine,* the Russians to the barbarity of the French. In reality, +however, it was not, and could not be, possible to explain the burning +of Moscow by making any individual, or any group of people, +responsible for it. Moscow was burned because it found itself in a +position in which any town built of wood was bound to burn, quite +apart from whether it had, or had not, a hundred and thirty inferior +fire engines. Deserted Moscow had to burn as inevitably as a heap of +shavings has to burn on which sparks continually fall for several +days. A town built of wood, where scarcely a day passes without +conflagrations when the house owners are in residence and a police +force is present, cannot help burning when its inhabitants have left +it and it is occupied by soldiers who smoke pipes, make campfires of +the Senate chairs in the Senate Square, and cook themselves meals +twice a day. In peacetime it is only necessary to billet troops in the +villages of any district and the number of fires in that district +immediately increases. How much then must the probability of fire be +increased in an abandoned, wooden town where foreign troops are +quartered. "Le patriotisme feroce de Rostopchine" and the barbarity of +the French were not to blame in the matter. Moscow was set on fire +by the soldiers' pipes, kitchens, and campfires, and by the +carelessness of enemy soldiers occupying houses they did not own. Even +if there was any arson (which is very doubtful, for no one had any +reason to burn the houses--in any case a troublesome and dangerous +thing to do), arson cannot be regarded as the cause, for the same +thing would have happened without any incendiarism. + + +*To Rostopchin's ferocious patriotism. + + +However tempting it might be for the French to blame Rostopchin's +ferocity and for Russians to blame the scoundrel Bonaparte, or later +on to place an heroic torch in the hands of their own people, it is +impossible not to see that there could be no such direct cause of +the fire, for Moscow had to burn as every village, factory, or house +must burn which is left by its owners and in which strangers are +allowed to live and cook their porridge. Moscow was burned by its +inhabitants, it is true, but by those who had abandoned it and not +by those who remained in it. Moscow when occupied by the enemy did not +remain intact like Berlin, Vienna, and other towns, simply because its +inhabitants abandoned it and did not welcome the French with bread and +salt, nor bring them the keys of the city. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +The absorption of the French by Moscow, radiating starwise as it +did, only reached the quarter where Pierre was staying by the +evening of the second of September. + +After the last two days spent in solitude and unusual circumstances, +Pierre was in a state bordering on insanity. He was completely +obsessed by one persistent thought. He did not know how or when this +thought had taken such possession of him, but he remembered nothing of +the past, understood nothing of the present, and all he saw and +heard appeared to him like a dream. + +He had left home only to escape the intricate tangle of life's +demands that enmeshed him, and which in his present condition he was +unable to unravel. He had gone to Joseph Alexeevich's house, on the +plea of sorting the deceased's books and papers, only in search of +rest from life's turmoil, for in his mind the memory of Joseph +Alexeevich was connected with a world of eternal, solemn, and calm +thoughts, quite contrary to the restless confusion into which he +felt himself being drawn. He sought a quiet refuge, and in Joseph +Alexeevich's study he really found it. When he sat with his elbows +on the dusty writing table in the deathlike stillness of the study, +calm and significant memories of the last few days rose one after +another in his imagination, particularly of the battle of Borodino and +of that vague sense of his own insignificance and insincerity compared +with the truth, simplicity, and strength of the class of men he +mentally classed as they. When Gerasim roused him from his reverie the +idea occurred to him of taking part in the popular defense of Moscow +which he knew was projected. And with that object he had asked Gerasim +to get him a peasant's coat and a pistol, confiding to him his +intentions of remaining in Joseph Alexeevich's house and keeping his +name secret. Then during the first day spent in inaction and +solitude (he tried several times to fix his attention on the Masonic +manuscripts, but was unable to do so) the idea that had previously +occurred to him of the cabalistic significance of his name in +connection with Bonaparte's more than once vaguely presented itself. +But the idea that he, L'russe Besuhof, was destined to set a limit +to the power of the Beast was as yet only one of the fancies that +often passed through his mind and left no trace behind. + +When, having bought the coat merely with the object of taking part +among the people in the defense of Moscow, Pierre had met the +Rostovs and Natasha had said to him: "Are you remaining in +Moscow?... How splendid!" the thought flashed into his mind that it +really would be a good thing, even if Moscow were taken, for him to +remain there and do what he was predestined to do. + +Next day, with the sole idea of not sparing himself and not lagging in +any way behind them, Pierre went to the Three Hills gate. But when he +returned to the house convinced that Moscow would not be defended, he +suddenly felt that what before had seemed to him merely a possibility +had now become absolutely necessary and inevitable. He must remain in +Moscow, concealing his name, and must meet Napoleon and kill him, and +either perish or put an end to the misery of all Europe--which it +seemed to him was solely due to Napoleon. + +Pierre knew all the details of the attempt on Bonaparte's life in +1809 by a German student in Vienna, and knew that the student had been +shot. And the risk to which he would expose his life by carrying out +his design excited him still more. + +Two equally strong feelings drew Pierre irresistibly to this +purpose. The first was a feeling of the necessity of sacrifice and +suffering in view of the common calamity, the same feeling that had +caused him to go to Mozhaysk on the twenty-fifth and to make his way +to the very thick of the battle and had now caused him to run away +from his home and, in place of the luxury and comfort to which he +was accustomed, to sleep on a hard sofa without undressing and eat the +same food as Gerasim. The other was that vague and quite Russian +feeling of contempt for everything conventional, artificial, and +human--for everything the majority of men regard as the greatest +good in the world. Pierre had first experienced this strange and +fascinating feeling at the Sloboda Palace, when he had suddenly felt +that wealth, power, and life--all that men so painstakingly acquire +and guard--if it has any worth has so only by reason of the joy with +which it can all be renounced. + +It was the feeling that induces a volunteer recruit to spend his +last penny on drink, and a drunken man to smash mirrors or glasses for +no apparent reason and knowing that it will cost him all the money +he possesses: the feeling which causes a man to perform actions +which from an ordinary point of view are insane, to test, as it +were, his personal power and strength, affirming the existence of a +higher, nonhuman criterion of life. + +From the very day Pierre had experienced this feeling for the +first time at the Sloboda Palace he had been continuously under its +influence, but only now found full satisfaction for it. Moreover, at +this moment Pierre was supported in his design and prevented from +renouncing it by what he had already done in that direction. If he +were now to leave Moscow like everyone else, his flight from home, the +peasant coat, the pistol, and his announcement to the Rostovs that +he would remain in Moscow would all become not merely meaningless +but contemptible and ridiculous, and to this Pierre was very +sensitive. + +Pierre's physical condition, as is always the case, corresponded +to his mental state. The unaccustomed coarse food, the vodka he +drank during those days, the absence of wine and cigars, his dirty +unchanged linen, two almost sleepless nights passed on a short sofa +without bedding--all this kept him in a state of excitement +bordering on insanity. + +It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The French had already +entered Moscow. Pierre knew this, but instead of acting he only +thought about his undertaking, going over its minutest details in +his mind. In his fancy he did not clearly picture to himself either +the striking of the blow or the death of Napoleon, but with +extraordinary vividness and melancholy enjoyment imagined his own +destruction and heroic endurance. + +"Yes, alone, for the sake of all, I must do it or perish!" he +thought. "Yes, I will approach... and then suddenly... with pistol +or dagger? But that is all the same! 'It is not I but the hand of +Providence that punishes thee,' I shall say," thought he, imagining +what he would say when killing Napoleon. "Well then, take me and +execute me!" he went on, speaking to himself and bowing his head +with a sad but firm expression. + +While Pierre, standing in the middle of the room, was talking to +himself in this way, the study door opened and on the threshold +appeared the figure of Makar Alexeevich, always so timid before but +now quite transformed. + +His dressing gown was unfastened, his face red and distorted. He was +obviously drunk. On seeing Pierre he grew confused at first, but +noticing embarrassment on Pierre's face immediately grew bold and, +staggering on his thin legs, advanced into the middle of the room. + +"They're frightened," he said confidentially in a hoarse voice. "I +say I won't surrender, I say... Am I not right, sir?" + +He paused and then suddenly seeing the pistol on the table seized it +with unexpected rapidity and ran out into the corridor. + +Gerasim and the porter, who had followed Makar Alexeevich, stopped +him in the vestibule and tried to take the pistol from him. Pierre, +coming out into the corridor, looked with pity and repulsion at the +half-crazy old man. Makar Alexeevich, frowning with exertion, held +on to the pistol and screamed hoarsely, evidently with some heroic +fancy in his head. + +"To arms! Board them! No, you shan't get it," he yelled. + +"That will do, please, that will do. Have the goodness--please, sir, +to let go! Please, sir..." pleaded Gerasim, trying carefully to +steer Makar Alexeevich by the elbows back to the door. + +"Who are you? Bonaparte!..." shouted Makar Alexeevich. + +"That's not right, sir. Come to your room, please, and rest. Allow +me to have the pistol." + +"Be off, thou base slave! Touch me not! See this?" shouted Makar +Alexeevich, brandishing the pistol. "Board them!" + +"Catch hold!" whispered Gerasim to the porter. + +They seized Makar Alexeevich by the arms and dragged him to the +door. + +The vestibule was filled with the discordant sounds of a struggle +and of a tipsy, hoarse voice. + +Suddenly a fresh sound, a piercing feminine scream, reverberated +from the porch and the cook came running into the vestibule. + +"It's them! Gracious heavens! O Lord, four of them, horsemen!" she +cried. + +Gerasim and the porter let Makar Alexeevich go, and in the now +silent corridor the sound of several hands knocking at the front +door could be heard. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Pierre, having decided that until he had carried out his design he +would disclose neither his identity nor his knowledge of French, stood +at the half-open door of the corridor, intending to conceal himself as +soon as the French entered. But the French entered and still Pierre +did not retire--an irresistible curiosity kept him there. + +There were two of them. One was an officer--a tall, soldierly, +handsome man--the other evidently a private or an orderly, +sunburned, short, and thin, with sunken cheeks and a dull +expression. The officer walked in front, leaning on a stick and +slightly limping. When he had advanced a few steps he stopped, +having apparently decided that these were good quarters, turned +round to the soldiers standing at the entrance, and in a loud voice of +command ordered them to put up the horses. Having done that, the +officer, lifting his elbow with a smart gesture, stroked his +mustache and lightly touched his hat. + +"Bonjour, la compagnie!"* said he gaily, smiling and looking about +him. + + +*"Good day, everybody!" + + +No one gave any reply. + +"Vous etes le bourgeois?"* the officer asked Gerasim. + + +*"Are you the master here?" + + +Gerasim gazed at the officer with an alarmed and inquiring look. + +"Quartier, quartier, logement!" said the officer, looking down at +the little man with a condescending and good-natured smile. "Les +francais sont de bons enfants. Que diable! Voyons! Ne nous fachons +pas, mon vieux!"* added he, clapping the scared and silent Gerasim +on the shoulder. "Well, does no one speak French in this +establishment?" he asked again in French, looking around and meeting +Pierre's eyes. Pierre moved away from the door. + + +*"Quarters, quarters, lodgings! The French are good fellows. What +the devil! There, don't let us be cross, old fellow!" + + +Again the officer turned to Gerasim and asked him to show him the +rooms in the house. + +"Master, not here--don't understand... me, you..." said Gerasim, +trying to render his words more comprehensible by contorting them. + +Still smiling, the French officer spread out his hands before +Gerasim's nose, intimating that he did not understand him either, +and moved, limping, to the door at which Pierre was standing. Pierre +wished to go away and conceal himself, but at that moment he saw Makar +Alexeevich appearing at the open kitchen door with the pistol in his +hand. With a madman's cunning, Makar Alexeevich eyed the Frenchman, +raised his pistol, and took aim. + +"Board them!" yelled the tipsy man, trying to press the trigger. +Hearing the yell the officer turned round, and at the same moment +Pierre threw himself on the drunkard. Just when Pierre snatched at and +struck up the pistol Makar Alexeevich at last got his fingers on the +trigger, there was a deafening report, and all were enveloped in a +cloud of smoke. The Frenchman turned pale and rushed to the door. + +Forgetting his intention of concealing his knowledge of French, +Pierre, snatching away the pistol and throwing it down, ran up to +the officer and addressed him in French. + +"You are not wounded?" he asked. + +"I think not," answered the Frenchman, feeling himself over. "But +I have had a lucky escape this time," he added, pointing to the +damaged plaster of the wall. "Who is that man?" said he, looking +sternly at Pierre. + +"Oh, I am really in despair at what has occurred," said Pierre +rapidly, quite forgetting the part he had intended to play. "He is +an unfortunate madman who did not know what he was doing." + +The officer went up to Makar Alexeevich and took him by the collar. + +Makar Alexeevich was standing with parted lips, swaying, as if about +to fall asleep, as he leaned against the wall. + +"Brigand! You shall pay for this," said the Frenchman, letting go of +him. "We French are merciful after victory, but we do not pardon +traitors," he added, with a look of gloomy dignity and a fine +energetic gesture. + +Pierre continued, in French, to persuade the officer not to hold +that drunken imbecile to account. The Frenchman listened in silence +with the same gloomy expression, but suddenly turned to Pierre with +a smile. For a few seconds he looked at him in silence. His handsome +face assumed a melodramatically gentle expression and he held out +his hand. + +"You have saved my life. You are French," said he. + +For a Frenchman that deduction was indubitable. Only a Frenchman +could perform a great deed, and to save his life--the life of M. +Ramballe, captain of the 13th Light Regiment--was undoubtedly a very +great deed. + +But however indubitable that conclusion and the officer's conviction +based upon it, Pierre felt it necessary to disillusion him. + +"I am Russian," he said quickly. + +"Tut, tut, tut! Tell that to others," said the officer, waving his +finger before his nose and smiling. "You shall tell me all about +that presently. I am delighted to meet a compatriot. Well, and what +are we to do with this man?" he added, addressing himself to Pierre as +to a brother. + +Even if Pierre were not a Frenchman, having once received that +loftiest of human appellations he could not renounce it, said the +officer's look and tone. In reply to his last question Pierre again +explained who Makar Alexeevich was and how just before their arrival +that drunken imbecile had seized the loaded pistol which they had +not had time to recover from him, and begged the officer to let the +deed go unpunished. + +The Frenchman expanded his chest and made a majestic gesture with +his arm. + +"You have saved my life! You are French. You ask his pardon? I grant +it you. Lead that man away!" said he quickly and energetically, and +taking the arm of Pierre whom he had promoted to be a Frenchman for +saving his life, he went with him into the room. + +The soldiers in the yard, hearing the shot, came into the passage +asking what had happened, and expressed their readiness to punish +the culprits, but the officer sternly checked them. + +"You will be called in when you are wanted," he said. + +The soldiers went out again, and the orderly, who had meanwhile +had time to visit the kitchen, came up to his officer. + +"Captain, there is soup and a leg of mutton in the kitchen," said +he. "Shall I serve them up?" + +"Yes, and some wine," answered the captain. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +When the French officer went into the room with Pierre the latter +again thought it his duty to assure him that he was not French and +wished to go away, but the officer would not hear of it. He was so +very polite, amiable, good-natured, and genuinely grateful to Pierre +for saving his life that Pierre had not the heart to refuse, and sat +down with him in the parlor--the first room they entered. To +Pierre's assurances that he was not a Frenchman, the captain, +evidently not understanding how anyone could decline so flattering +an appellation, shrugged his shoulders and said that if Pierre +absolutely insisted on passing for a Russian let it be so, but for all +that he would be forever bound to Pierre by gratitude for saving his +life. + +Had this man been endowed with the slightest capacity for perceiving +the feelings of others, and had he at all understood what Pierre's +feelings were, the latter would probably have left him, but the +man's animated obtuseness to everything other than himself disarmed +Pierre. + +"A Frenchman or a Russian prince incognito," said the officer, +looking at Pierre's fine though dirty linen and at the ring on his +finger. "I owe my life to you and offer you my friendship. A Frenchman +never forgets either an insult or a service. I offer you my +friendship. That is all I can say." + +There was so much good nature and nobility (in the French sense of +the word) in the officer's voice, in the expression of his face and in +his gestures, that Pierre, unconsciously smiling in response to the +Frenchman's smile, pressed the hand held out to him. + +"Captain Ramballe, of the 13th Light Regiment, Chevalier of the +Legion of Honor for the affair on the seventh of September," he +introduced himself, a self-satisfied irrepressible smile puckering his +lips under his mustache. "Will you now be so good as to tell me with +whom I have the honor of conversing so pleasantly, instead of being in +the ambulance with that maniac's bullet in my body?" + +Pierre replied that he could not tell him his name and, blushing, +began to try to invent a name and to say something about his reason +for concealing it, but the Frenchman hastily interrupted him. + +"Oh, please!" said he. "I understand your reasons. You are an +officer... a superior officer perhaps. You have borne arms against us. +That's not my business. I owe you my life. That is enough for me. I am +quite at your service. You belong to the gentry?" he concluded with +a shade of inquiry in his tone. Pierre bent his head. "Your +baptismal name, if you please. That is all I ask. Monsieur Pierre, you +say.... That's all I want to know." + +When the mutton and an omelet had been served and a samovar and +vodka brought, with some wine which the French had taken from a +Russian cellar and brought with them, Ramballe invited Pierre to share +his dinner, and himself began to eat greedily and quickly like a +healthy and hungry man, munching his food rapidly with his strong +teeth, continually smacking his lips, and repeating--"Excellent! +Delicious!" His face grew red and was covered with perspiration. +Pierre was hungry and shared the dinner with pleasure. Morel, the +orderly, brought some hot water in a saucepan and placed a bottle of +claret in it. He also brought a bottle of kvass, taken from the +kitchen for them to try. That beverage was already known to the French +and had been given a special name. They called it limonade de cochon +(pig's lemonade), and Morel spoke well of the limonade de cochon he +had found in the kitchen. But as the captain had the wine they had +taken while passing through Moscow, he left the kvass to Morel and +applied himself to the bottle of Bordeaux. He wrapped the bottle up to +its neck in a table napkin and poured out wine for himself and for +Pierre. The satisfaction of his hunger and the wine rendered the +captain still more lively and he chatted incessantly all through +dinner. + +"Yes, my dear Monsieur Pierre, I owe you a fine votive candle for +saving me from that maniac.... You see, I have bullets enough in my +body already. Here is one I got at Wagram" (he touched his side) +"and a second at Smolensk"--he showed a scar on his cheek--"and this +leg which as you see does not want to march, I got that on the seventh +at the great battle of la Moskowa. Sacre Dieu! It was splendid! That +deluge of fire was worth seeing. It was a tough job you set us +there, my word! You may be proud of it! And on my honor, in spite of +the cough I caught there, I should be ready to begin again. I pity +those who did not see it." + +"I was there," said Pierre. + +"Bah, really? So much the better! You are certainly brave foes. +The great redoubt held out well, by my pipe!" continued the Frenchman. +"And you made us pay dear for it. I was at it three times--sure as I +sit here. Three times we reached the guns and three times we were +thrown back like cardboard figures. Oh, it was beautiful, Monsieur +Pierre! Your grenadiers were splendid, by heaven! I saw them close +up their ranks six times in succession and march as if on parade. Fine +fellows! Our King of Naples, who knows what's what, cried 'Bravo!' Ha, +ha! So you are one of us soldiers!" he added, smiling, after a +momentary pause. "So much the better, so much the better, Monsieur +Pierre! Terrible in battle... gallant... with the fair" (he winked and +smiled), "that's what the French are, Monsieur Pierre, aren't they?" + +The captain was so naively and good-humoredly gay, so real, and so +pleased with himself that Pierre almost winked back as he looked +merrily at him. Probably the word "gallant" turned the captain's +thoughts to the state of Moscow. + +"Apropos, tell me please, is it true that the women have all left +Moscow? What a queer idea! What had they to be afraid of?" + +"Would not the French ladies leave Paris if the Russians entered +it?" asked Pierre. + +"Ha, ha, ha!" The Frenchman emitted a merry, sanguine chuckle, +patting Pierre on the shoulder. "What a thing to say!" he exclaimed. +"Paris?... But Paris, Paris..." + +"Paris--the capital of the world," Pierre finished his remark for +him. + +The captain looked at Pierre. He had a habit of stopping short in +the middle of his talk and gazing intently with his laughing, kindly +eyes. + +"Well, if you hadn't told me you were Russian, I should have wagered +that you were Parisian! You have that... I don't know what, that..." +and having uttered this compliment, he again gazed at him in silence. + +"I have been in Paris. I spent years there," said Pierre. + +"Oh yes, one sees that plainly. Paris!... A man who doesn't know +Paris is a savage. You can tell a Parisian two leagues off. Paris is +Talma, la Duchenois, Potier, the Sorbonne, the boulevards," and +noticing that his conclusion was weaker than what had gone before, +he added quickly: "There is only one Paris in the world. You have been +to Paris and have remained Russian. Well, I don't esteem you the +less for it." + +Under the influence of the wine he had drunk, and after the days +he had spent alone with his depressing thoughts, Pierre +involuntarily enjoyed talking with this cheerful and good-natured man. + +"To return to your ladies--I hear they are lovely. What a wretched +idea to go and bury themselves in the steppes when the French army +is in Moscow. What a chance those girls have missed! Your peasants, +now--that's another thing; but you civilized people, you ought to know +us better than that. We took Vienna, Berlin, Madrid, Naples, Rome, +Warsaw, all the world's capitals.... We are feared, but we are +loved. We are nice to know. And then the Emperor..." he began, but +Pierre interrupted him. + +"The Emperor," Pierre repeated, and his face suddenly became sad and +embarrassed, "is the Emperor...?" + +"The Emperor? He is generosity, mercy, justice, order, genius--that's +what the Emperor is! It is I, Ramballe, who tell you so.... I assure +you I was his enemy eight years ago. My father was an emigrant +count.... But that man has vanquished me. He has taken hold of me. I +could not resist the sight of the grandeur and glory with which he has +covered France. When I understood what he wanted--when I saw that he +was preparing a bed of laurels for us, you know, I said to myself: +'That is a monarch,' and I devoted myself to him! So there! Oh yes, +mon cher, he is the greatest man of the ages past or future." + +"Is he in Moscow?" Pierre stammered with a guilty look. + +The Frenchman looked at his guilty face and smiled. + +"No, he will make his entry tomorrow," he replied, and continued his +talk. + +Their conversation was interrupted by the cries of several voices at +the gate and by Morel, who came to say that some Wurttemberg hussars +had come and wanted to put up their horses in the yard where the +captain's horses were. This difficulty had arisen chiefly because +the hussars did not understand what was said to them in French. + +The captain had their senior sergeant called in, and in a stern +voice asked him to what regiment he belonged, who was his commanding +officer, and by what right he allowed himself to claim quarters that +were already occupied. The German who knew little French, answered the +two first questions by giving the names of his regiment and of his +commanding officer, but in reply to the third question which he did +not understand said, introducing broken French into his own German, +that he was the quartermaster of the regiment and his commander had +ordered him to occupy all the houses one after another. Pierre, who +knew German, translated what the German said to the captain and gave +the captain's reply to the Wurttemberg hussar in German. When he had +understood what was said to him, the German submitted and took his men +elsewhere. The captain went out into the porch and gave some orders in +a loud voice. + +When he returned to the room Pierre was sitting in the same place as +before, with his head in his hands. His face expressed suffering. He +really was suffering at that moment. When the captain went out and +he was left alone, suddenly he came to himself and realized the +position he was in. It was not that Moscow had been taken or that +the happy conquerors were masters in it and were patronizing him. +Painful as that was it was not that which tormented Pierre at the +moment. He was tormented by the consciousness of his own weakness. The +few glasses of wine he had drunk and the conversation with this +good-natured man had destroyed the mood of concentrated gloom in which +he had spent the last few days and which was essential for the +execution of his design. The pistol, dagger, and peasant coat were +ready. Napoleon was to enter the town next day. Pierre still +considered that it would be a useful and worthy action to slay the +evildoer, but now he felt that he would not do it. He did not know +why, but he felt a foreboding that he would not carry out his +intention. He struggled against the confession of his weakness but +dimly felt that he could not overcome it and that his former gloomy +frame of mind, concerning vengeance, killing, and self-sacrifice, +had been dispersed like dust by contact with the first man he met. + +The captain returned to the room, limping slightly and whistling a +tune. + +The Frenchman's chatter which had previously amused Pierre now +repelled him. The tune he was whistling, his gait, and the gesture +with which he twirled his mustache, all now seemed offensive. "I +will go away immediately. I won't say another word to him," thought +Pierre. He thought this, but still sat in the same place. A strange +feeling of weakness tied him to the spot; he wished to get up and go +away, but could not do so. + +The captain, on the other hand, seemed very cheerful. He paced up +and down the room twice. His eyes shone and his mustache twitched as +if he were smiling to himself at some amusing thought. + +"The colonel of those Wurttembergers is delightful," he suddenly +said. "He's a German, but a nice fellow all the same.... But he's a +German." He sat down facing Pierre. "By the way, you know German, +then?" + +Pierre looked at him in silence. + +"What is the German for 'shelter'?" + +"Shelter?" Pierre repeated. "The German for shelter is Unterkunft." + +"How do you say it?" the captain asked quickly and doubtfully. + +"Unterkunft," Pierre repeated. + +"Onterkoff," said the captain and looked at Pierre for some +seconds with laughing eyes. "These Germans are first-rate fools, don't +you think so, Monsieur Pierre?" he concluded. + +"Well, let's have another bottle of this Moscow Bordeaux, shall +we? Morel will warm us up another little bottle. Morel!" he called out +gaily. + +Morel brought candles and a bottle of wine. The captain looked at +Pierre by the candlelight and was evidently struck by the troubled +expression on his companion's face. Ramballe, with genuine distress +and sympathy in his face, went up to Pierre and bent over him. + +"There now, we're sad," said he, touching Pierre's hand. "Have I +upset you? No, really, have you anything against me?" he asked Pierre. +"Perhaps it's the state of affairs?" + +Pierre did not answer, but looked cordially into the Frenchman's +eyes whose expression of sympathy was pleasing to him. + +"Honestly, without speaking of what I owe you, I feel friendship for +you. Can I do anything for you? Dispose of me. It is for life and +death. I say it with my hand on my heart!" said he, striking his +chest. + +"Thank you," said Pierre. + +The captain gazed intently at him as he had done when he learned +that "shelter" was Unterkunft in German, and his face suddenly +brightened. + +"Well, in that case, I drink to our friendship!" he cried gaily, +filling two glasses with wine. + +Pierre took one of the glasses and emptied it. Ramballe emptied +his too, again pressed Pierre's hand, and leaned his elbows on the +table in a pensive attitude. + +"Yes, my dear friend," he began, "such is fortune's caprice. Who +would have said that I should be a soldier and a captain of dragoons +in the service of Bonaparte, as we used to call him? Yet here I am +in Moscow with him. I must tell you, mon cher," he continued in the +sad and measured tones of a man who intends to tell a long story, +"that our name is one of the most ancient in France." + +And with a Frenchman's easy and naive frankness the captain told +Pierre the story of his ancestors, his childhood, youth, and +manhood, and all about his relations and his financial and family +affairs, "ma pauvre mere" playing of course an important part in the +story. + +"But all that is only life's setting, the real thing is love--love! Am +I not right, Monsieur Pierre?" said he, growing animated. "Another +glass?" + +Pierre again emptied his glass and poured himself out a third. + +"Oh, women, women!" and the captain, looking with glistening eyes at +Pierre, began talking of love and of his love affairs. + +There were very many of these, as one could easily believe, +looking at the officer's handsome, self-satisfied face, and noting the +eager enthusiasm with which he spoke of women. Though all Ramballe's +love stories had the sensual character which Frenchmen regard as the +special charm and poetry of love, yet he told his story with such +sincere conviction that he alone had experienced and known all the +charm of love and he described women so alluringly that Pierre +listened to him with curiosity. + +It was plain that l'amour which the Frenchman was so fond of was not +that low and simple kind that Pierre had once felt for his wife, nor +was it the romantic love stimulated by himself that he experienced for +Natasha. (Ramballe despised both these kinds of love equally: the +one he considered the "love of clodhoppers" and the other the "love of +simpletons.") L'amour which the Frenchman worshiped consisted +principally in the unnaturalness of his relation to the woman and in a +combination of incongruities giving the chief charm to the feeling. + +Thus the captain touchingly recounted the story of his love for a +fascinating marquise of thirty-five and at the same time for a +charming, innocent child of seventeen, daughter of the bewitching +marquise. The conflict of magnanimity between the mother and the +daughter, ending in the mother's sacrificing herself and offering +her daughter in marriage to her lover, even now agitated the +captain, though it was the memory of a distant past. Then he recounted +an episode in which the husband played the part of the lover, and +he--the lover--assumed the role of the husband, as well as several +droll incidents from his recollections of Germany, where "shelter" +is called Unterkunft and where the husbands eat sauerkraut and the +young girls are "too blonde." + +Finally, the latest episode in Poland still fresh in the captain's +memory, and which he narrated with rapid gestures and glowing face, +was of how he had saved the life of a Pole (in general, the saving +of life continually occurred in the captain's stories) and the Pole +had entrusted to him his enchanting wife (parisienne de coeur) while +himself entering the French service. The captain was happy, the +enchanting Polish lady wished to elope with him, but, prompted by +magnanimity, the captain restored the wife to the husband, saying as +he did so: "I have saved your life, and I save your honor!" Having +repeated these words the captain wiped his eyes and gave himself a +shake, as if driving away the weakness which assailed him at this +touching recollection. + +Listening to the captain's tales, Pierre--as often happens late in +the evening and under the influence of wine--followed all that was +told him, understood it all, and at the same time followed a train +of personal memories which, he knew not why, suddenly arose in his +mind. While listening to these love stories his own love for Natasha +unexpectedly rose to his mind, and going over the pictures of that +love in his imagination he mentally compared them with Ramballe's +tales. Listening to the story of the struggle between love and duty, +Pierre saw before his eyes every minutest detail of his last meeting +with the object of his love at the Sukharev water tower. At the time +of that meeting it had not produced an effect upon him--he had not +even once recalled it. But now it seemed to him that that meeting +had had in it something very important and poetic. + +"Peter Kirilovich, come here! We have recognized you," he now seemed +to hear the words she had uttered and to see before him her eyes, +her smile, her traveling hood, and a stray lock of her hair... and +there seemed to him something pathetic and touching in all this. + +Having finished his tale about the enchanting Polish lady, the +captain asked Pierre if he had ever experienced a similar impulse to +sacrifice himself for love and a feeling of envy of the legitimate +husband. + +Challenged by this question Pierre raised his head and felt a need +to express the thoughts that filled his mind. He began to explain that +he understood love for a women somewhat differently. He said that in +all his life he had loved and still loved only one woman, and that she +could never be his. + +"Tiens!" said the captain. + +Pierre then explained that he had loved this woman from his earliest +years, but that he had not dared to think of her because she was too +young, and because he had been an illegitimate son without a name. +Afterwards when he had received a name and wealth he dared not think +of her because he loved her too well, placing her far above everything +in the world, and especially therefore above himself. + +When he had reached this point, Pierre asked the captain whether +he understood that. + +The captain made a gesture signifying that even if he did not +understand it he begged Pierre to continue. + +"Platonic love, clouds..." he muttered. + +Whether it was the wine he had drunk, or an impulse of frankness, or +the thought that this man did not, and never would, know any of +those who played a part in his story, or whether it was all these +things together, something loosened Pierre's tongue. Speaking +thickly and with a faraway look in his shining eyes, he told the whole +story of his life: his marriage, Natasha's love for his best friend, +her betrayal of him, and all his own simple relations with her. +Urged on by Ramballe's questions he also told what he had at first +concealed--his own position and even his name. + +More than anything else in Pierre's story the captain was +impressed by the fact that Pierre was very rich, had two mansions in +Moscow, and that he had abandoned everything and not left the city, +but remained there concealing his name and station. + +When it was late at night they went out together into the street. +The night was warm and light. To the left of the house on the Pokrovka +a fire glowed--the first of those that were beginning in Moscow. To +the right and high up in the sky was the sickle of the waning moon and +opposite to it hung that bright comet which was connected in +Pierre's heart with his love. At the gate stood Gerasim, the cook, and +two Frenchmen. Their laughter and their mutually incomprehensible +remarks in two languages could be heard. They were looking at the glow +seen in the town. + +There was nothing terrible in the one small, distant fire in the +immense city. + +Gazing at the high starry sky, at the moon, at the comet, and at the +glow from the fire, Pierre experienced a joyful emotion. "There now, +how good it is, what more does one need?" thought he. And suddenly +remembering his intention he grew dizzy and felt so faint that he +leaned against the fence to save himself from falling. + +Without taking leave of his new friend, Pierre left the gate with +unsteady steps and returning to his room lay down on the sofa and +immediately fell asleep. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +The glow of the first fire that began on the second of September was +watched from the various roads by the fugitive Muscovites and by the +retreating troops, with many different feelings. + +The Rostov party spent the night at Mytishchi, fourteen miles from +Moscow. They had started so late on the first of September, the road +had been so blocked by vehicles and troops, so many things had been +forgotten for which servants were sent back, that they had decided +to spend that night at a place three miles out of Moscow. The next +morning they woke late and were again delayed so often that they +only got as far as Great Mytishchi. At ten o'clock that evening the +Rostov family and the wounded traveling with them were all distributed +in the yards and huts of that large village. The Rostovs' servants and +coachmen and the orderlies of the wounded officers, after attending to +their masters, had supper, fed the horses, and came out into the +porches. + +In a neighboring hut lay Raevski's adjutant with a fractured +wrist. The awful pain he suffered made him moan incessantly and +piteously, and his moaning sounded terrible in the darkness of the +autumn night. He had spent the first night in the same yard as the +Rostovs. The countess said she had been unable to close her eyes on +account of his moaning, and at Mytishchi she moved into a worse hut +simply to be farther away from the wounded man. + +In the darkness of the night one of the servants noticed, above +the high body of a coach standing before the porch, the small glow +of another fire. One glow had long been visible and everybody knew +that it was Little Mytishchi burning--set on fire by Mamonov's +Cossacks. + +"But look here, brothers, there's another fire!" remarked an +orderly. + +All turned their attention to the glow. + +"But they told us Little Mytishchi had been set on fire by Mamonov's +Cossacks." + +"But that's not Mytishchi, it's farther away." + +"Look, it must be in Moscow!" + +Two of the gazers went round to the other side of the coach and +sat down on its steps. + +"It's more to the left, why, Little Mytishchi is over there, and +this is right on the other side." + +Several men joined the first two. + +"See how it's flaring," said one. "That's a fire in Moscow: either +in the Sushchevski or the Rogozhski quarter." + +No one replied to this remark and for some time they all gazed +silently at the spreading flames of the second fire in the distance. + +Old Daniel Terentich, the count's valet (as he was called), came +up to the group and shouted at Mishka. + +"What are you staring at, you good-for-nothing?... The count will be +calling and there's nobody there; go and gather the clothes together." + +"I only ran out to get some water," said Mishka. + +"But what do you think, Daniel Terentich? Doesn't it look as if that +glow were in Moscow?" remarked one of the footmen. + +Daniel Terentich made no reply, and again for a long time they +were all silent. The glow spread, rising and falling, farther and +farther still. + +"God have mercy.... It's windy and dry..." said another voice. + +"Just look! See what it's doing now. O Lord! You can even see the +crows flying. Lord have mercy on us sinners!" + +"They'll put it out, no fear!" + +"Who's to put it out?" Daniel Terentich, who had hitherto been +silent, was heard to say. His voice was calm and deliberate. "Moscow +it is, brothers," said he. "Mother Moscow, the white..." his voice +faltered, and he gave way to an old man's sob. + +And it was as if they had all only waited for this to realize the +significance for them of the glow they were watching. Sighs were +heard, words of prayer, and the sobbing of the count's old valet. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +The valet, returning to the cottage, informed the count that +Moscow was burning. The count donned his dressing gown and went out to +look. Sonya and Madame Schoss, who had not yet undressed, went out +with him. Only Natasha and the countess remained in the room. Petya +was no longer with the family, he had gone on with his regiment +which was making for Troitsa. + +The countess, on hearing that Moscow was on fire, began to cry. +Natasha, pale, with a fixed look, was sitting on the bench under the +icons just where she had sat down on arriving and paid no attention to +her father's words. She was listening to the ceaseless moaning of +the adjutant, three houses off. + +"Oh, how terrible," said Sonya returning from the yard chilled and +frightened. "I believe the whole of Moscow will burn, there's an awful +glow! Natasha, do look! You can see it from the window," she said to +her cousin, evidently wishing to distract her mind. + +But Natasha looked at her as if not understanding what was said to +her and again fixed her eyes on the corner of the stove. She had +been in this condition of stupor since the morning, when Sonya, to the +surprise and annoyance of the countess, had for some unaccountable +reason found it necessary to tell Natasha of Prince Andrew's wound and +of his being with their party. The countess had seldom been so angry +with anyone as she was with Sonya. Sonya had cried and begged to be +forgiven and now, as if trying to atone for her fault, paid +unceasing attention to her cousin. + +"Look, Natasha, how dreadfully it is burning!" said she. + +"What's burning?" asked Natasha. "Oh, yes, Moscow." + +And as if in order not to offend Sonya and to get rid of her, she +turned her face to the window, looked out in such a way that it was +evident that she could not see anything, and again settled down in her +former attitude. + +"But you didn't see it!" + +"Yes, really I did," Natasha replied in a voice that pleaded to be +left in peace. + +Both the countess and Sonya understood that, naturally, neither +Moscow nor the burning of Moscow nor anything else could seem of +importance to Natasha. + +The count returned and lay down behind the partition. The countess +went up to her daughter and touched her head with the back of her hand +as she was wont to do when Natasha was ill, then touched her +forehead with her lips as if to feel whether she was feverish, and +finally kissed her. + +"You are cold. You are trembling all over. You'd better lie down," +said the countess. + +"Lie down? All right, I will. I'll lie down at once," said Natasha. + +When Natasha had been told that morning that Prince Andrew was +seriously wounded and was traveling with their party, she had at first +asked many questions: Where was he going? How was he wounded? Was it +serious? And could she see him? But after she had been told that she +could not see him, that he was seriously wounded but that his life was +not in danger, she ceased to ask questions or to speak at all, +evidently disbelieving what they told her, and convinced that say what +she might she would still be told the same. All the way she had sat +motionless in a corner of the coach with wide open eyes, and the +expression in them which the countess knew so well and feared so much, +and now she sat in the same way on the bench where she had seated +herself on arriving. She was planning something and either deciding or +had already decided something in her mind. The countess knew this, but +what it might be she did not know, and this alarmed and tormented her. + +"Natasha, undress, darling; lie down on my bed." + +A bed had been made on a bedstead for the countess only. Madame +Schoss and the two girls were to sleep on some hay on the floor. + +"No, Mamma, I will lie down here on the floor," Natasha replied +irritably and she went to the window and opened it. Through the open +window the moans of the adjutant could be heard more distinctly. She +put her head out into the damp night air, and the countess saw her +slim neck shaking with sobs and throbbing against the window frame. +Natasha knew it was not Prince Andrew who was moaning. She knew Prince +Andrew was in the same yard as themselves and in a part of the hut +across the passage; but this dreadful incessant moaning made her +sob. The countess exchanged a look with Sonya. + +"Lie down, darling; lie down, my pet," said the countess, softly +touching Natasha's shoulders. "Come, lie down." + +"Oh, yes... I'll lie down at once," said Natasha, and began +hurriedly undressing, tugging at the tapes of her petticoat. + +When she had thrown off her dress and put on a dressing jacket, +she sat down with her foot under her on the bed that had been made +up on the floor, jerked her thin and rather short plait of hair to the +front, and began replaiting it. Her long, thin, practiced fingers +rapidly unplaited, replaited, and tied up her plait. Her head moved +from side to side from habit, but her eyes, feverishly wide, looked +fixedly before her. When her toilet for the night was finished she +sank gently onto the sheet spread over the hay on the side nearest the +door. + +"Natasha, you'd better lie in the middle," said Sonya. + +"I'll stay here," muttered Natasha. "Do lie down," she added +crossly, and buried her face in the pillow. + +The countess, Madame Schoss, and Sonya undressed hastily and lay +down. The small lamp in front of the icons was the only light left +in the room. But in the yard there was a light from the fire at Little +Mytishchi a mile and a half away, and through the night came the noise +of people shouting at a tavern Mamonov's Cossacks had set up across +the street, and the adjutant's unceasing moans could still be heard. + +For a long time Natasha listened attentively to the sounds that +reached her from inside and outside the room and did not move. First +she heard her mother praying and sighing and the creaking of her bed +under her, then Madame Schoss' familiar whistling snore and Sonya's +gentle breathing. Then the countess called to Natasha. Natasha did not +answer. + +"I think she's asleep, Mamma," said Sonya softly. + +After a short silence the countess spoke again but this time no one +replied. + +Soon after that Natasha heard her mother's even breathing. Natasha +did not move, though her little bare foot, thrust out from under the +quilt, was growing cold on the bare floor. + +As if to celebrate a victory over everybody, a cricket chirped in +a crack in the wall. A cock crowed far off and another replied near +by. The shouting in the tavern had died down; only the moaning of +the adjutant was heard. Natasha sat up. + +"Sonya, are you asleep? Mamma?" she whispered. + +No one replied. Natasha rose slowly and carefully, crossed +herself, and stepped cautiously on the cold and dirty floor with her +slim, supple, bare feet. The boards of the floor creaked. Stepping +cautiously from one foot to the other she ran like a kitten the few +steps to the door and grasped the cold door handle. + +It seemed to her that something heavy was beating rhythmically +against all the walls of the room: it was her own heart, sinking +with alarm and terror and overflowing with love. + +She opened the door and stepped across the threshold and onto the +cold, damp earthen floor of the passage. The cold she felt refreshed +her. With her bare feet she touched a sleeping man, stepped over +him, and opened the door into the part of the hut where Prince +Andrew lay. It was dark in there. In the farthest corner, on a bench +beside a bed on which something was lying, stood a tallow candle +with a long, thick, and smoldering wick. + +From the moment she had been told that morning of Prince Andrew's +wound and his presence there, Natasha had resolved to see him. She did +not know why she had to, she knew the meeting would be painful, but +felt the more convinced that it was necessary. + +All day she had lived only in hope of seeing him that night. But now +that the moment had come she was filled with dread of what she might +see. How was he maimed? What was left of him? Was he like that +incessant moaning of the adjutant's? Yes, he was altogether like that. +In her imagination he was that terrible moaning personified. When she +saw an indistinct shape in the corner, and mistook his knees raised +under the quilt for his shoulders, she imagined a horrible body there, +and stood still in terror. But an irresistible impulse drew her +forward. She cautiously took one step and then another, and found +herself in the middle of a small room containing baggage. Another +man--Timokhin--was lying in a corner on the benches beneath the icons, +and two others--the doctor and a valet--lay on the floor. + +The valet sat up and whispered something. Timokhin, kept awake by +the pain in his wounded leg, gazed with wide-open eyes at this strange +apparition of a girl in a white chemise, dressing jacket, and +nightcap. The valet's sleepy, frightened exclamation, "What do you +want? What's the matter?" made Natasha approach more swiftly to what +was lying in the corner. Horribly unlike a man as that body looked, +she must see him. She passed the valet, the snuff fell from the candle +wick, and she saw Prince Andrew clearly with his arms outside the +quilt, and such as she had always seen him. + +He was the same as ever, but the feverish color of his face, his +glittering eyes rapturously turned toward her, and especially his +neck, delicate as a child's, revealed by the turn-down collar of his +shirt, gave him a peculiarly innocent, childlike look, such as she had +never seen on him before. She went up to him and with a swift, +flexible, youthful movement dropped on her knees. + +He smiled and held out his hand to her. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Seven days had passed since Prince Andrew found himself in the +ambulance station on the field of Borodino. His feverish state and the +inflammation of his bowels, which were injured, were in the doctor's +opinion sure to carry him off. But on the seventh day he ate with +pleasure a piece of bread with some tea, and the doctor noticed that +his temperature was lower. He had regained consciousness that morning. +The first night after they left Moscow had been fairly warm and he had +remained in the caleche, but at Mytishchi the wounded man himself +asked to be taken out and given some tea. The pain caused by his +removal into the hut had made him groan aloud and again lose +consciousness. When he had been placed on his camp bed he lay for a +long time motionless with closed eyes. Then he opened them and +whispered softly: "And the tea?" His remembering such a small detail +of everyday life astonished the doctor. He felt Prince Andrew's pulse, +and to his surprise and dissatisfaction found it had improved. He +was dissatisfied because he knew by experience that if his patient did +not die now, he would do so a little later with greater suffering. +Timokhin, the red-nosed major of Prince Andrew's regiment, had +joined him in Moscow and was being taken along with him, having been +wounded in the leg at the battle of Borodino. They were accompanied by +a doctor, Prince Andrew's valet, his coachman, and two orderlies. + +They gave Prince Andrew some tea. He drank it eagerly, looking +with feverish eyes at the door in front of him as if trying to +understand and remember something. + +"I don't want any more. Is Timokhin here?" he asked. + +Timokhin crept along the bench to him. + +"I am here, your excellency." + +"How's your wound?" + +"Mine, sir? All right. But how about you?" + +Prince Andrew again pondered as if trying to remember something. + +"Couldn't one get a book?" he asked. + +"What book?" + +"The Gospels. I haven't one." + +The doctor promised to procure it for him and began to ask how he +was feeling. Prince Andrew answered all his questions reluctantly +but reasonably, and then said he wanted a bolster placed under him +as he was uncomfortable and in great pain. The doctor and valet lifted +the cloak with which he was covered and, making wry faces at the +noisome smell of mortifying flesh that came from the wound, began +examining that dreadful place. The doctor was very much displeased +about something and made a change in the dressings, turning the +wounded man over so that he groaned again and grew unconscious and +delirious from the agony. He kept asking them to get him the book +and put it under him. + +"What trouble would it be to you?" he said. "I have not got one. +Please get it for me and put it under for a moment," he pleaded in a +piteous voice. + +The doctor went into the passage to wash his hands. + +"You fellows have no conscience," said he to the valet who was +pouring water over his hands. "For just one moment I didn't look after +you... It's such pain, you know, that I wonder how he can bear it." + +"By the Lord Jesus Christ, I thought we had put something under +him!" said the valet. + +The first time Prince Andrew understood where he was and what was +the matter with him and remembered being wounded and how was when he +asked to be carried into the hut after his caleche had stopped at +Mytishchi. After growing confused from pain while being carried into +the hut he again regained consciousness, and while drinking tea once +more recalled all that had happened to him, and above all vividly +remembered the moment at the ambulance station when, at the sight of +the sufferings of a man he disliked, those new thoughts had come to +him which promised him happiness. And those thoughts, though now vague +and indefinite, again possessed his soul. He remembered that he had +now a new source of happiness and that this happiness had something to +do with the Gospels. That was why he asked for a copy of them. The +uncomfortable position in which they had put him and turned him over +again confused his thoughts, and when he came to himself a third +time it was in the complete stillness of the night. Everybody near him +was sleeping. A cricket chirped from across the passage; someone was +shouting and singing in the street; cockroaches rustled on the +table, on the icons, and on the walls, and a big fly flopped at the +head of the bed and around the candle beside him, the wick of which +was charred and had shaped itself like a mushroom. + +His mind was not in a normal state. A healthy man usually thinks of, +feels, and remembers innumerable things simultaneously, but has the +power and will to select one sequence of thoughts or events on which +to fix his whole attention. A healthy man can tear himself away from +the deepest reflections to say a civil word to someone who comes in +and can then return again to his own thoughts. But Prince Andrew's +mind was not in a normal state in that respect. All the powers of +his mind were more active and clearer than ever, but they acted +apart from his will. Most diverse thoughts and images occupied him +simultaneously. At times his brain suddenly began to work with a +vigor, clearness, and depth it had never reached when he was in +health, but suddenly in the midst of its work it would turn to some +unexpected idea and he had not the strength to turn it back again. + +"Yes, a new happiness was revealed to me of which man cannot be +deprived," he thought as he lay in the semidarkness of the quiet hut, +gazing fixedly before him with feverish wide open eyes. "A happiness +lying beyond material forces, outside the material influences that act +on man--a happiness of the soul alone, the happiness of loving. +Every man can understand it, but to conceive it and enjoin it was +possible only for God. But how did God enjoin that law? And why was +the Son...?" + +And suddenly the sequence of these thoughts broke off, and Prince +Andrew heard (without knowing whether it was a delusion or reality) +a soft whispering voice incessantly and rhythmically repeating +"piti-piti-piti," and then "titi," and then again "piti-piti-piti," +and "ti-ti" once more. At the same time he felt that above his face, +above the very middle of it, some strange airy structure was being +erected out of slender needles or splinters, to the sound of this +whispered music. He felt that he had to balance carefully (though it +was difficult) so that this airy structure should not collapse; but +nevertheless it kept collapsing and again slowly rising to the sound +of whispered rhythmic music--"it stretches, stretches, spreading out +and stretching," said Prince Andrew to himself. While listening to +this whispering and feeling the sensation of this drawing out and +the construction of this edifice of needles, he also saw by glimpses a +red halo round the candle, and heard the rustle of the cockroaches and +the buzzing of the fly that flopped against his pillow and his face. +Each time the fly touched his face it gave him a burning sensation and +yet to his surprise it did not destroy the structure, though it +knocked against the very region of his face where it was rising. But +besides this there was something else of importance. It was +something white by the door--the statue of a sphinx, which also +oppressed him. + +"But perhaps that's my shirt on the table," he thought, "and +that's my legs, and that is the door, but why is it always +stretching and drawing itself out, and 'piti-piti-piti' and 'ti-ti' +and 'piti-piti-piti'...? That's enough, please leave off!" Prince +Andrew painfully entreated someone. And suddenly thoughts and feelings +again swam to the surface of his mind with peculiar clearness and +force. + +"Yes--love," he thought again quite clearly. "But not love which +loves for something, for some quality, for some purpose, or for some +reason, but the love which I--while dying--first experienced when I +saw my enemy and yet loved him. I experienced that feeling of love +which is the very essence of the soul and does not require an +object. Now again I feel that bliss. To love one's neighbors, to +love one's enemies, to love everything, to love God in all His +manifestations. It is possible to love someone dear to you with +human love, but an enemy can only be loved by divine love. That is why +I experienced such joy when I felt that I loved that man. What has +become of him? Is he alive?... + +"When loving with human love one may pass from love to hatred, but +divine love cannot change. No, neither death nor anything else can +destroy it. It is the very essence of the soul. Yet how many people +have I hated in my life? And of them all, I loved and hated none as +I did her." And he vividly pictured to himself Natasha, not as he +had done in the past with nothing but her charms which gave him +delight, but for the first time picturing to himself her soul. And +he understood her feelings, her sufferings, shame, and remorse. He now +understood for the first time all the cruelty of his rejection of her, +the cruelty of his rupture with her. "If only it were possible for +me to see her once more! Just once, looking into those eyes to say..." + + +"Piti-piti-piti and ti-ti and piti-piti-piti boom!" flopped the +fly... And his attention was suddenly carried into another world, a +world of reality and delirium in which something particular was +happening. In that world some structure was still being erected and +did not fall, something was still stretching out, and the candle +with its red halo was still burning, and the same shirtlike sphinx lay +near the door; but besides all this something creaked, there was a +whiff of fresh air, and a new white sphinx appeared, standing at the +door. And that sphinx had the pale face and shining eyes of the very +Natasha of whom he had just been thinking. + +"Oh, how oppressive this continual delirium is," thought Prince +Andrew, trying to drive that face from his imagination. But the face +remained before him with the force of reality and drew nearer. +Prince Andrew wished to return to that former world of pure thought, +but he could not, and delirium drew him back into its domain. The soft +whispering voice continued its rhythmic murmur, something oppressed +him and stretched out, and the strange face was before him. Prince +Andrew collected all his strength in an effort to recover his +senses, he moved a little, and suddenly there was a ringing in his +ears, a dimness in his eyes, and like a man plunged into water he lost +consciousness. When he came to himself, Natasha, that same living +Natasha whom of all people he most longed to love with this new pure +divine love that had been revealed to him, was kneeling before him. He +realized that it was the real living Natasha, and he was not surprised +but quietly happy. Natasha, motionless on her knees (she was unable to +stir), with frightened eyes riveted on him, was restraining her +sobs. Her face was pale and rigid. Only in the lower part of it +something quivered. + +Prince Andrew sighed with relief, smiled, and held out his hand. + +"You?" he said. "How fortunate!" + +With a rapid but careful movement Natasha drew nearer to him on +her knees and, taking his hand carefully, bent her face over it and +began kissing it, just touching it lightly with her lips. + +"Forgive me!" she whispered, raising her head and glancing at him. +"Forgive me!" + +"I love you," said Prince Andrew. + +"Forgive...!" + +"Forgive what?" he asked. + +"Forgive me for what I ha-ve do-ne!" faltered Natasha in a +scarcely audible, broken whisper, and began kissing his hand more +rapidly, just touching it with her lips. + +"I love you more, better than before," said Prince Andrew, lifting +her face with his hand so as to look into her eyes. + +Those eyes, filled with happy tears, gazed at him timidly, +compassionately, and with joyous love. Natasha's thin pale face, +with its swollen lips, was more than plain--it was dreadful. But +Prince Andrew did not see that, he saw her shining eyes which were +beautiful. They heard the sound of voices behind them. + +Peter the valet, who was now wide awake, had roused the doctor. +Timokhin, who had not slept at all because of the pain in his leg, had +long been watching all that was going on, carefully covering his +bare body with the sheet as he huddled up on his bench. + +"What's this?" said the doctor, rising from his bed. "Please go +away, madam!" + +At that moment a maid sent by the countess, who had noticed her +daughter's absence, knocked at the door. + +Like a somnambulist aroused from her sleep Natasha went out of the +room and, returning to her hut, fell sobbing on her bed. + + +From that time, during all the rest of the Rostovs' journey, at +every halting place and wherever they spent a night, Natasha never +left the wounded Bolkonski, and the doctor had to admit that he had +not expected from a young girl either such firmness or such skill in +nursing a wounded man. + +Dreadful as the countess imagined it would be should Prince Andrew +die in her daughter's arms during the journey--as, judging by what the +doctor said, it seemed might easily happen--she could not oppose +Natasha. Though with the intimacy now established between the +wounded man and Natasha the thought occurred that should he recover +their former engagement would be renewed, no one--least of all Natasha +and Prince Andrew--spoke of this: the unsettled question of life and +death, which hung not only over Bolkonski but over all Russia, shut +out all other considerations. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +On the third of September Pierre awoke late. His head was aching, +the clothes in which he had slept without undressing felt +uncomfortable on his body, and his mind had a dim consciousness of +something shameful he had done the day before. That something shameful +was his yesterday's conversation with Captain Ramballe. + +It was eleven by the clock, but it seemed peculiarly dark out of +doors. Pierre rose, rubbed his eyes, and seeing the pistol with an +engraved stock which Gerasim had replaced on the writing table, he +remembered where he was and what lay before him that very day. + +"Am I not too late?" he thought. "No, probably he won't make his +entry into Moscow before noon." + +Pierre did not allow himself to reflect on what lay before him, +but hastened to act. + +After arranging his clothes, he took the pistol and was about to +go out. But it then occurred to him for the first time that he +certainly could not carry the weapon in his hand through the +streets. It was difficult to hide such a big pistol even under his +wide coat. He could not carry it unnoticed in his belt or under his +arm. Besides, it had been discharged, and he had not had time to +reload it. "No matter, dagger will do," he said to himself, though +when planning his design he had more than once come to the +conclusion that the chief mistake made by the student in 1809 had been +to try to kill Napoleon with a dagger. But as his chief aim +consisted not in carrying out his design, but in proving to himself +that he would not abandon his intention and was doing all he could +to achieve it, Pierre hastily took the blunt jagged dagger in a +green sheath which he had bought at the Sukharev market with the +pistol, and hid it under his waistcoat. + +Having tied a girdle over his coat and pulled his cap low on his +head, Pierre went down the corridor, trying to avoid making a noise or +meeting the captain, and passed out into the street. + +The conflagration, at which he had looked with so much +indifference the evening before, had greatly increased during the +night. Moscow was on fire in several places. The buildings in Carriage +Row, across the river, in the Bazaar and the Povarskoy, as well as the +barges on the Moskva River and the timber yards by the Dorogomilov +Bridge, were all ablaze. + +Pierre's way led through side streets to the Povarskoy and from there +to the church of St. Nicholas on the Arbat, where he had long before +decided that the deed should be done. The gates of most of the houses +were locked and the shutters up. The streets and lanes were deserted. +The air was full of smoke and the smell of burning. Now and then he +met Russians with anxious and timid faces, and Frenchmen with an air +not of the city but of the camp, walking in the middle of the streets. +Both the Russians and the French looked at Pierre with surprise. +Besides his height and stoutness, and the strange morose look of +suffering in his face and whole figure, the Russians stared at Pierre +because they could not make out to what class he could belong. The +French followed him with astonishment in their eyes chiefly because +Pierre, unlike all the other Russians who gazed at the French with +fear and curiosity, paid no attention to them. At the gate of one +house three Frenchmen, who were explaining something to some Russians +who did not understand them, stopped Pierre asking if he did not know +French. + +Pierre shook his head and went on. In another side street a sentinel +standing beside a green caisson shouted at him, but only when the +shout was threateningly repeated and he heard the click of the man's +musket as he raised it did Pierre understand that he had to pass on +the other side of the street. He heard nothing and saw nothing of what +went on around him. He carried his resolution within himself in terror +and haste, like something dreadful and alien to him, for, after the +previous night's experience, he was afraid of losing it. But he was +not destined to bring his mood safely to his destination. And even had +he not been hindered by anything on the way, his intention could not +now have been carried out, for Napoleon had passed the Arbat more than +four hours previously on his way from the Dorogomilov suburb to the +Kremlin, and was now sitting in a very gloomy frame of mind in a royal +study in the Kremlin, giving detailed and exact orders as to +measures to be taken immediately to extinguish the fire, to prevent +looting, and to reassure the inhabitants. But Pierre did not know +this; he was entirely absorbed in what lay before him, and was +tortured--as those are who obstinately undertake a task that is +impossible for them not because of its difficulty but because of its +incompatibility with their natures--by the fear of weakening at the +decisive moment and so losing his self-esteem. + +Though he heard and saw nothing around him he found his way by +instinct and did not go wrong in the side streets that led to the +Povarskoy. + +As Pierre approached that street the smoke became denser and +denser--he even felt the heat of the fire. Occasionally curly tongues +of flame rose from under the roofs of the houses. He met more people +in the streets and they were more excited. But Pierre, though he felt +that something unusual was happening around him, did not realize that +he was approaching the fire. As he was going along a foot path across +a wide-open space adjoining the Povarskoy on one side and the gardens +of Prince Gruzinski's house on the other, Pierre suddenly heard the +desperate weeping of a woman close to him. He stopped as if awakening +from a dream and lifted his head. + +By the side of the path, on the dusty dry grass, all sorts of +household goods lay in a heap: featherbeds, a samovar, icons, and +trunks. On the ground, beside the trunks, sat a thin woman no longer +young, with long, prominent upper teeth, and wearing a black cloak and +cap. This woman, swaying to and fro and muttering something, was +choking with sobs. Two girls of about ten and twelve, dressed in dirty +short frocks and cloaks, were staring at their mother with a look of +stupefaction on their pale frightened faces. The youngest child, a boy +of about seven, who wore an overcoat and an immense cap evidently +not his own, was crying in his old nurse's arms. A dirty, barefooted +maid was sitting on a trunk, and, having undone her pale-colored +plait, was pulling it straight and sniffing at her singed hair. The +woman's husband, a short, round-shouldered man in the undress +uniform of a civilian official, with sausage-shaped whiskers and +showing under his square-set cap the hair smoothly brushed forward +over his temples, with expressionless face was moving the trunks, +which were placed one on another, and was dragging some garments +from under them. + +As soon as she saw Pierre, the woman almost threw herself at his +feet. + +"Dear people, good Christians, save me, help me, dear friends... +help us, somebody," she muttered between her sobs. "My girl... My +daughter! My youngest daughter is left behind. She's burned! Ooh! +Was it for this I nursed you.... Ooh!" + +"Don't, Mary Nikolievna!" said her husband to her in a low voice, +evidently only to justify himself before the stranger. "Sister must +have taken her, or else where can she be?" he added. + +"Monster! Villain!" shouted the woman angrily, suddenly ceasing to +weep. "You have no heart, you don't feel for your own child! Another +man would have rescued her from the fire. But this is a monster and +neither a man nor a father! You, honored sir, are a noble man," she +went on, addressing Pierre rapidly between her sobs. "The fire broke +out alongside, and blew our way, the maid called out 'Fire!' and we +rushed to collect our things. We ran out just as we were.... This is +what we have brought away.... The icons, and my dowry bed, all the +rest is lost. We seized the children. But not Katie! Ooh! O +Lord!..." and again she began to sob. "My child, my dear one! +Burned, burned!" + +"But where was she left?" asked Pierre. + +From the expression of his animated face the woman saw that this man +might help her. + +"Oh, dear sir!" she cried, seizing him by the legs. "My +benefactor, set my heart at ease.... Aniska, go, you horrid girl, show +him the way!" she cried to the maid, angrily opening her mouth and +still farther exposing her long teeth. + +"Show me the way, show me, I... I'll do it," gasped Pierre rapidly. + +The dirty maidservant stepped from behind the trunk, put up her +plait, sighed, and went on her short, bare feet along the path. Pierre +felt as if he had come back to life after a heavy swoon. He held his +head higher, his eyes shone with the light of life, and with swift +steps he followed the maid, overtook her, and came out on the +Povarskoy. The whole street was full of clouds of black smoke. Tongues +of flame here and there broke through that cloud. A great number of +people crowded in front of the conflagration. In the middle of the +street stood a French general saying something to those around him. +Pierre, accompanied by the maid, was advancing to the spot where the +general stood, but the French soldiers stopped him. + +"On ne passe pas!"* cried a voice. + + +*"You can't pass!" + + +"This way, uncle," cried the girl. "We'll pass through the side +street, by the Nikulins'!" + +Pierre turned back, giving a spring now and then to keep up with +her. She ran across the street, turned down a side street to the left, +and, passing three houses, turned into a yard on the right. + +"It's here, close by," said she and, running across the yard, opened +a gate in a wooden fence and, stopping, pointed out to him a small +wooden wing of the house, which was burning brightly and fiercely. One +of its sides had fallen in, another was on fire, and bright flames +issued from the openings of the windows and from under the roof. + +As Pierre passed through the fence gate, he was enveloped by hot air +and involuntarily stopped. + +"Which is it? Which is your house?" he asked. + +"Ooh!" wailed the girl, pointing to the wing. "That's it, that was +our lodging. You've burned to death, our treasure, Katie, my +precious little missy! Ooh!" lamented Aniska, who at the sight of +the fire felt that she too must give expression to her feelings. + +Pierre rushed to the wing, but the heat was so great that he +involuntarily passed round in a curve and came upon the large house +that was as yet burning only at one end, just below the roof, and +around which swarmed a crowd of Frenchmen. At first Pierre did not +realize what these men, who were dragging something out, were about; +but seeing before him a Frenchman hitting a peasant with a blunt saber +and trying to take from him a fox-fur coat, he vaguely understood that +looting was going on there, but he had no time to dwell on that idea. + +The sounds of crackling and the din of falling walls and ceilings, +the whistle and hiss of the flames, the excited shouts of the +people, and the sight of the swaying smoke, now gathering into thick +black clouds and now soaring up with glittering sparks, with here +and there dense sheaves of flame (now red and now like golden fish +scales creeping along the walls), and the heat and smoke and +rapidity of motion, produced on Pierre the usual animating effects +of a conflagration. It had a peculiarly strong effect on him because +at the sight of the fire he felt himself suddenly freed from the ideas +that had weighed him down. He felt young, bright, adroit, and +resolute. He ran round to the other side of the lodge and was about to +dash into that part of it which was still standing, when just above +his head he heard several voices shouting and then a cracking sound +and the ring of something heavy falling close beside him. + +Pierre looked up and saw at a window of the large house some +Frenchmen who had just thrown out the drawer of a chest, filled with +metal articles. Other French soldiers standing below went up to the +drawer. + +"What does this fellow want?" shouted one of them referring to +Pierre. + +"There's a child in that house. Haven't you seen a child?" cried +Pierre. + +"What's he talking about? Get along!" said several voices, and one +of the soldiers, evidently afraid that Pierre might want to take +from them some of the plate and bronzes that were in the drawer, moved +threateningly toward him. + +"A child?" shouted a Frenchman from above. "I did hear something +squealing in the garden. Perhaps it's his brat that the fellow is +looking for. After all, one must be human, you know...." + +"Where is it? Where?" said Pierre. + +"There! There!" shouted the Frenchman at the window, pointing to the +garden at the back of the house. "Wait a bit--I'm coming down." + +And a minute or two later the Frenchman, a black-eyed fellow with +a spot on his cheek, in shirt sleeves, really did jump out of a window +on the ground floor, and clapping Pierre on the shoulder ran with +him into the garden. + +"Hurry up, you others!" he called out to his comrades. "It's getting +hot." + +When they reached a gravel path behind the house the Frenchman +pulled Pierre by the arm and pointed to a round, graveled space +where a three-year-old girl in a pink dress was lying under a seat. + +"There is your child! Oh, a girl, so much the better!" said the +Frenchman. "Good-by, Fatty. We must be human, we are all mortal you +know!" and the Frenchman with the spot on his cheek ran back to his +comrades. + +Breathless with joy, Pierre ran to the little girl and was going +to take her in his arms. But seeing a stranger the sickly, +scrofulous-looking child, unattractively like her mother, began to +yell and run away. Pierre, however, seized her and lifted her in his +arms. She screamed desperately and angrily and tried with her little +hands to pull Pierre's hands away and to bite them with her slobbering +mouth. Pierre was seized by a sense of horror and repulsion such as he +had experienced when touching some nasty little animal. But he made an +effort not to throw the child down and ran with her to the large +house. It was now, however, impossible to get back the way he had +come; the maid, Aniska, was no longer there, and Pierre with a feeling +of pity and disgust pressed the wet, painfully sobbing child to +himself as tenderly as he could and ran with her through the garden +seeking another way out. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Having run through different yards and side streets, Pierre got back +with his little burden to the Gruzinski garden at the corner of the +Povarskoy. He did not at first recognize the place from which he had +set out to look for the child, so crowded was it now with people and +goods that had been dragged out of the houses. Besides Russian +families who had taken refuge here from the fire with their +belongings, there were several French soldiers in a variety of +clothing. Pierre took no notice of them. He hurried to find the family +of that civil servant in order to restore the daughter to her mother +and go to save someone else. Pierre felt that he had still much to +do and to do quickly. Glowing with the heat and from running, he +felt at that moment more strongly than ever the sense of youth, +animation, and determination that had come on him when he ran to +save the child. She had now become quiet and, clinging with her little +hands to Pierre's coat, sat on his arm gazing about her like some +little wild animal. He glanced at her occasionally with a slight +smile. He fancied he saw something pathetically innocent in that +frightened, sickly little face. + +He did not find the civil servant or his wife where he had left +them. He walked among the crowd with rapid steps, scanning the various +faces he met. Involuntarily he noticed a Georgian or Armenian family +consisting of a very handsome old man of Oriental type, wearing a new, +cloth-covered, sheepskin coat and new boots, an old woman of similar +type, and a young woman. That very young woman seemed to Pierre the +perfection of Oriental beauty, with her sharply outlined, arched, +black eyebrows and the extraordinarily soft, bright color of her long, +beautiful, expressionless face. Amid the scattered property and the +crowd on the open space, she, in her rich satin cloak with a bright +lilac shawl on her head, suggested a delicate exotic plant thrown +out onto the snow. She was sitting on some bundles a little behind the +old woman, and looked from under her long lashes with motionless, +large, almond-shaped eyes at the ground before her. Evidently she +was aware of her beauty and fearful because of it. Her face struck +Pierre and, hurrying along by the fence, he turned several times to +look at her. When he had reached the fence, still without finding +those he sought, he stopped and looked about him. + +With the child in his arms his figure was now more conspicuous +than before, and a group of Russians, both men and women, gathered +about him. + +"Have you lost anyone, my dear fellow? You're of the gentry +yourself, aren't you? Whose child is it?" they asked him. + +Pierre replied that the child belonged to a woman in a black coat +who had been sitting there with her other children, and he asked +whether anyone knew where she had gone. + +"Why, that must be the Anferovs," said an old deacon, addressing a +pockmarked peasant woman. "Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy!" he added +in his customary bass. + +"The Anferovs? No," said the woman. "They left in the morning. +That must be either Mary Nikolievna's or the Ivanovs'!" + +"He says 'a woman,' and Mary Nikolievna is a lady," remarked a house +serf. + +"Do you know her? She's thin, with long teeth," said Pierre. + +"That's Mary Nikolievna! They went inside the garden when these +wolves swooped down," said the woman, pointing to the French soldiers. + +"O Lord, have mercy!" added the deacon. + +"Go over that way, they're there. It's she! She kept on lamenting +and crying," continued the woman. "It's she. Here, this way!" + +But Pierre was not listening to the woman. He had for some seconds +been intently watching what was going on a few steps away. He was +looking at the Armenian family and at two French soldiers who had gone +up to them. One of these, a nimble little man, was wearing a blue coat +tied round the waist with a rope. He had a nightcap on his head and +his feet were bare. The other, whose appearance particularly struck +Pierre, was a long, lank, round-shouldered, fair-haired man, slow in +his movements and with an idiotic expression of face. He wore a +woman's loose gown of frieze, blue trousers, and large torn Hessian +boots. The little barefooted Frenchman in the blue coat went up to the +Armenians and, saying something, immediately seized the old man by his +legs and the old man at once began pulling off his boots. The other in +the frieze gown stopped in front of the beautiful Armenian girl and +with his hands in his pockets stood staring at her, motionless and +silent. + +"Here, take the child!" said Pierre peremptorily and hurriedly to +the woman, handing the little girl to her. "Give her back to them, +give her back!" he almost shouted, putting the child, who began +screaming, on the ground, and again looking at the Frenchman and the +Armenian family. + +The old man was already sitting barefoot. The little Frenchman had +secured his second boot and was slapping one boot against the other. +The old man was saying something in a voice broken by sobs, but Pierre +caught but a glimpse of this, his whole attention was directed to +the Frenchman in the frieze gown who meanwhile, swaying slowly from +side to side, had drawn nearer to the young woman and taking his hands +from his pockets had seized her by the neck. + +The beautiful Armenian still sat motionless and in the same +attitude, with her long lashes drooping as if she did not see or +feel what the soldier was doing to her. + +While Pierre was running the few steps that separated him from the +Frenchman, the tall marauder in the frieze gown was already tearing +from her neck the necklace the young Armenian was wearing, and the +young woman, clutching at her neck, screamed piercingly. + +"Let that woman alone!" exclaimed Pierre hoarsely in a furious +voice, seizing the soldier by his round shoulders and throwing him +aside. + +The soldier fell, got up, and ran away. But his comrade, throwing +down the boots and drawing his sword, moved threateningly toward +Pierre. + +"Voyons, Pas de betises!"* he cried. + + +*"Look here, no nonsense!" + + +Pierre was in such a transport of rage that he remembered nothing +and his strength increased tenfold. He rushed at the barefooted +Frenchman and, before the latter had time to draw his sword, knocked +him off his feet and hammered him with his fists. Shouts of approval +were heard from the crowd around, and at the same moment a mounted +patrol of French Uhlans appeared from round the corner. The Uhlans +came up at a trot to Pierre and the Frenchman and surrounded them. +Pierre remembered nothing of what happened after that. He only +remembered beating someone and being beaten and finally feeling that +his hands were bound and that a crowd of French soldiers stood +around him and were searching him. + +"Lieutenant, he has a dagger," were the first words Pierre +understood. + +"Ah, a weapon?" said the officer and turned to the barefooted +soldier who had been arrested with Pierre. "All right, you can tell +all about it at the court-martial." Then he turned to Pierre. "Do +you speak French?" + +Pierre looked around him with bloodshot eyes and did not reply. +His face probably looked very terrible, for the officer said something +in a whisper and four more Uhlans left the ranks and placed themselves +on both sides of Pierre. + +"Do you speak French?" the officer asked again, keeping at a +distance from Pierre. "Call the interpreter." + +A little man in Russian civilian clothes rode out from the ranks, +and by his clothes and manner of speaking Pierre at once knew him to +be a French salesman from one of the Moscow shops. + +"He does not look like a common man," said the interpreter, after +a searching look at Pierre. + +"Ah, he looks very much like an incendiary," remarked the officer. +"And ask him who he is," he added. + +"Who are you?" asked the interpreter in poor Russian. "You must +answer the chief." + +"I will not tell you who I am. I am your prisoner--take me!" +Pierre suddenly replied in French. + +"Ah, ah!" muttered the officer with a frown. "Well then, march!" + +A crowd had collected round the Uhlans. Nearest to Pierre stood +the pockmarked peasant woman with the little girl, and when the patrol +started she moved forward. + +"Where are they taking you to, you poor dear?" said she. "And the +little girl, the little girl, what am I to do with her if she's not +theirs?" said the woman. + +"What does that woman want?" asked the officer. + +Pierre was as if intoxicated. His elation increased at the sight +of the little girl he had saved. + +"What does she want?" he murmured. "She is bringing me my daughter +whom I have just saved from the flames," said he. "Good-by!" And +without knowing how this aimless lie had escaped him, he went along +with resolute and triumphant steps between the French soldiers. + +The French patrol was one of those sent out through the various +streets of Moscow by Durosnel's order to put a stop to the pillage, +and especially to catch the incendiaries who, according to the general +opinion which had that day originated among the higher French +officers, were the cause of the conflagrations. After marching through +a number of streets the patrol arrested five more Russian suspects: +a small shopkeeper, two seminary students, a peasant, and a house +serf, besides several looters. But of all these various suspected +characters, Pierre was considered to be the most suspicious of all. +When they had all been brought for the night to a large house on the +Zubov Rampart that was being used as a guardhouse, Pierre was placed +apart under strict guard. + + + + + +BOOK TWELVE: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +In Petersburg at that time a complicated struggle was being +carried on with greater heat than ever in the highest circles, between +the parties of Rumyantsev, the French, Marya Fedorovna, the Tsarevich, +and others, drowned as usual by the buzzing of the court drones. But +the calm, luxurious life of Petersburg, concerned only about +phantoms and reflections of real life, went on in its old way and made +it hard, except by a great effort, to realize the danger and the +difficult position of the Russian people. There were the same +receptions and balls, the same French theater, the same court +interests and service interests and intrigues as usual. Only in the +very highest circles were attempts made to keep in mind the +difficulties of the actual position. Stories were whispered of how +differently the two Empresses behaved in these difficult +circumstances. The Empress Marya, concerned for the welfare of the +charitable and educational institutions under her patronage, had given +directions that they should all be removed to Kazan, and the things +belonging to these institutions had already been packed up. The +Empress Elisabeth, however, when asked what instructions she would +be pleased to give--with her characteristic Russian patriotism had +replied that she could give no directions about state institutions for +that was the affair of the sovereign, but as far as she personally was +concerned she would be the last to quit Petersburg. + +At Anna Pavlovna's on the twenty-sixth of August, the very day of +the battle of Borodino, there was a soiree, the chief feature of which +was to be the reading of a letter from His Lordship the Bishop when +sending the Emperor an icon of the Venerable Sergius. It was +regarded as a model of ecclesiastical, patriotic eloquence. Prince +Vasili himself, famed for his elocution, was to read it. (He used to +read at the Empress'.) The art of his reading was supposed to lie in +rolling out the words, quite independently of their meaning, in a loud +and singsong voice alternating between a despairing wail and a +tender murmur, so that the wail fell quite at random on one word and +the murmur on another. This reading, as was always the case at Anna +Pavlovna's soirees, had a political significance. That evening she +expected several important personages who had to be made ashamed of +their visits to the French theater and aroused to a patriotic +temper. A good many people had already arrived, but Anna Pavlovna, not +yet seeing all those whom she wanted in her drawing room, did not +let the reading begin but wound up the springs of a general +conversation. + +The news of the day in Petersburg was the illness of Countess +Bezukhova. She had fallen ill unexpectedly a few days previously, +had missed several gatherings of which she was usually ornament, and +was said to be receiving no one, and instead of the celebrated +Petersburg doctors who usually attended her had entrusted herself to +some Italian doctor who was treating her in some new and unusual way. + +They all knew very well that the enchanting countess' illness +arose from an inconvenience resulting from marrying two husbands at +the same time, and that the Italian's cure consisted in removing +such inconvenience; but in Anna Pavlovna's presence no one dared to +think of this or even appear to know it. + +"They say the poor countess is very ill. The doctor says it is +angina pectoris." + +"Angina? Oh, that's a terrible illness!" + +"They say that the rivals are reconciled, thanks to the angina..." +and the word angina was repeated with great satisfaction. + +"The count is pathetic, they say. He cried like a child when the +doctor told him the case was dangerous." + +"Oh, it would be a terrible loss, she is an enchanting woman." + +"You are speaking of the poor countess?" said Anna Pavlovna, +coming up just then. "I sent to ask for news, and hear that she is a +little better. Oh, she is certainly the most charming woman in the +world," she went on, with a smile at her own enthusiasm. "We belong to +different camps, but that does not prevent my esteeming her as she +deserves. She is very unfortunate!" added Anna Pavlovna. + +Supposing that by these words Anna Pavlovna was somewhat lifting the +veil from the secret of the countess' malady, an unwary young man +ventured to express surprise that well known doctors had not been +called in and that the countess was being attended by a charlatan +who might employ dangerous remedies. + +"Your information maybe better than mine," Anna Pavlovna suddenly +and venomously retorted on the inexperienced young man, "but I know on +good authority that this doctor is a very learned and able man. He +is private physician to the Queen of Spain." + +And having thus demolished the young man, Anna Pavlovna turned to +another group where Bilibin was talking about the Austrians: having +wrinkled up his face he was evidently preparing to smooth it out again +and utter one of his mots. + +"I think it is delightful," he said, referring to a diplomatic +note that had been sent to Vienna with some Austrian banners +captured from the French by Wittgenstein, "the hero of Petropol" as he +was then called in Petersburg. + +"What? What's that?" asked Anna Pavlovna, securing silence for the +mot, which she had heard before. + +And Bilibin repeated the actual words of the diplomatic dispatch, +which he had himself composed. + +"The Emperor returns these Austrian banners," said Bilibin, +"friendly banners gone astray and found on a wrong path," and his brow +became smooth again. + +"Charming, charming!" observed Prince Vasili. + +"The path to Warsaw, perhaps," Prince Hippolyte remarked loudly +and unexpectedly. Everybody looked at him, understanding what he +meant. Prince Hippolyte himself glanced around with amused surprise. +He knew no more than the others what his words meant. During his +diplomatic career he had more than once noticed that such utterances +were received as very witty, and at every opportunity he uttered in +that way the first words that entered his head. "It may turn out +very well," he thought, "but if not, they'll know how to arrange +matters." And really, during the awkward silence that ensued, that +insufficiently patriotic person entered whom Anna Pavlovna had been +waiting for and wished to convert, and she, smiling and shaking a +finger at Hippolyte, invited Prince Vasili to the table and bringing +him two candles and the manuscript begged him to begin. Everyone +became silent. + + +"Most Gracious Sovereign and Emperor!" Prince Vasili sternly +declaimed, looking round at his audience as if to inquire whether +anyone had anything to say to the contrary. But no one said +anything. "Moscow, our ancient capital, the New Jerusalem, receives +her Christ"--he placed a sudden emphasis on the word her--"as a mother +receives her zealous sons into her arms, and through the gathering +mists, foreseeing the brilliant glory of thy rule, sings in +exultation, 'Hosanna, blessed is he that cometh!'" + + +Prince Vasili pronounced these last words in a tearful voice. + +Bilibin attentively examined his nails, and many of those present +appeared intimidated, as if asking in what they were to blame. Anna +Pavlovna whispered the next words in advance, like an old woman +muttering the prayer at Communion: "Let the bold and insolent +Goliath..." she whispered. + +Prince Vasili continued. + + +"Let the bold and insolent Goliath from the borders of France +encompass the realms of Russia with death-bearing terrors; humble +Faith, the sling of the Russian David, shall suddenly smite his head +in his bloodthirsty pride. This icon of the Venerable Sergius, the +servant of God and zealous champion of old of our country's weal, is +offered to Your Imperial Majesty. I grieve that my waning strength +prevents rejoicing in the sight of your most gracious presence. I +raise fervent prayers to Heaven that the Almighty may exalt the race +of the just, and mercifully fulfill the desires of Your Majesty." + + +"What force! What a style!" was uttered in approval both of reader +and of author. + +Animated by that address Anna Pavlovna's guests talked for a long +time of the state of the fatherland and offered various conjectures as +to the result of the battle to be fought in a few days. + +"You will see," said Anna Pavlovna, "that tomorrow, on the Emperor's +birthday, we shall receive news. I have a favorable presentiment!" + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was in fact fulfilled. Next day +during the service at the palace church in honor of the Emperor's +birthday, Prince Volkonski was called out of the church and received a +dispatch from Prince Kutuzov. It was Kutuzov's report, written from +Tatarinova on the day of the battle. Kutuzov wrote that the Russians +had not retreated a step, that the French losses were much heavier +than ours, and that he was writing in haste from the field of battle +before collecting full information. It followed that there must have +been a victory. And at once, without leaving the church, thanks were +rendered to the Creator for His help and for the victory. + +Anna Pavlovna's presentiment was justified, and all that morning a +joyously festive mood reigned in the city. Everyone believed the +victory to have been complete, and some even spoke of Napoleon's +having been captured, of his deposition, and of the choice of a new +ruler for France. + +It is very difficult for events to be reflected in their real +strength and completeness amid the conditions of court life and far +from the scene of action. General events involuntarily group +themselves around some particular incident. So now the courtiers' +pleasure was based as much on the fact that the news had arrived on +the Emperor's birthday as on the fact of the victory itself. It was +like a successfully arranged surprise. Mention was made in Kutuzov's +report of the Russian losses, among which figured the names of +Tuchkov, Bagration, and Kutaysov. In the Petersburg world this sad +side of the affair again involuntarily centered round a single +incident: Kutaysov's death. Everybody knew him, the Emperor liked him, +and he was young and interesting. That day everyone met with the +words: + +"What a wonderful coincidence! Just during the service. But what a +loss Kutaysov is! How sorry I am!" + +"What did I tell about Kutuzov?" Prince Vasili now said with a +prophet's pride. "I always said he was the only man capable of +defeating Napoleon." + +But next day no news arrived from the army and the public mood +grew anxious. The courtiers suffered because of the suffering the +suspense occasioned the Emperor. + +"Fancy the Emperor's position!" said they, and instead of +extolling Kutuzov as they had done the day before, they condemned +him as the cause of the Emperor's anxiety. That day Prince Vasili no +longer boasted of his protege Kutuzov, but remained silent when the +commander in chief was mentioned. Moreover, toward evening, as if +everything conspired to make Petersburg society anxious and uneasy, +a terrible piece of news was added. Countess Helene Bezukhova had +suddenly died of that terrible malady it had been so agreeable to +mention. Officially, at large gatherings, everyone said that +Countess Bezukhova had died of a terrible attack of angina pectoris, +but in intimate circles details were mentioned of how the private +physician of the Queen of Spain had prescribed small doses of a +certain drug to produce a certain effect; but Helene, tortured by +the fact that the old count suspected her and that her husband to whom +she had written (that wretched, profligate Pierre) had not replied, +had suddenly taken a very large dose of the drug, and had died in +agony before assistance could be rendered her. It was said that Prince +Vasili and the old count had turned upon the Italian, but the latter +had produced such letters from the unfortunate deceased that they +had immediately let the matter drop. + +Talk in general centered round three melancholy facts: the Emperor's +lack of news, the loss of Kutuzov, and the death of Helene. + +On the third day after Kutuzov's report a country gentleman +arrived from Moscow, and news of the surrender of Moscow to the French +spread through the whole town. This was terrible! What a position +for the Emperor to be in! Kutuzov was a traitor, and Prince Vasili +during the visits of condolence paid to him on the occasion of his +daughter's death said of Kutuzov, whom he had formerly praised (it was +excusable for him in his grief to forget what he had said), that it +was impossible to expect anything else from a blind and depraved old +man. + +"I only wonder that the fate of Russia could have been entrusted +to such a man." + +As long as this news remained unofficial it was possible to doubt +it, but the next day the following communication was received from +Count Rostopchin: + + +Prince Kutuzov's adjutant has brought me a letter in which he +demands police officers to guide the army to the Ryazan road. He +writes that he is regretfully abandoning Moscow. Sire! Kutuzov's +action decides the fate of the capital and of your empire! Russia will +shudder to learn of the abandonment of the city in which her greatness +is centered and in which lie the ashes of your ancestors! I shall +follow the army. I have had everything removed, and it only remains +for me to weep over the fate of my fatherland. + + +On receiving this dispatch the Emperor sent Prince Volkonski to +Kutuzov with the following rescript: + + +Prince Michael Ilarionovich! Since the twenty-ninth of August I have +received no communication from you, yet on the first of September I +received from the commander in chief of Moscow, via Yaroslavl, the sad +news that you, with the army, have decided to abandon Moscow. You +can yourself imagine the effect this news has had on me, and your +silence increases my astonishment. I am sending this by +Adjutant-General Prince Volkonski, to hear from you the situation of +the army and the reasons that have induced you to take this melancholy +decision. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Nine days after the abandonment of Moscow, a messenger from +Kutuzov reached Petersburg with the official announcement of that +event. This messenger was Michaud, a Frenchman who did not know +Russian, but who was quoique etranger, russe de coeur et d'ame,* as he +said of himself. + + +*Though a foreigner, Russian in heart and soul. + + +The Emperor at once received this messenger in his study at the +palace on Stone Island. Michaud, who had never seen Moscow before +the campaign and who did not know Russian, yet felt deeply moved (as +he wrote) when he appeared before notre tres gracieux souverain* +with the news of the burning of Moscow, dont les flammes eclairaient +sa route.*[2] + + +*Our most gracious sovereign. + +*[2] Whose flames illumined his route. + + +Though the source of M. Michaud's chagrin must have been different +from that which caused Russians to grieve, he had such a sad face when +shown into the Emperor's study that the latter at once asked: + +"Have you brought me sad news, Colonel?" + +"Very sad, sire," replied Michaud, lowering his eyes with a sigh. +"The abandonment of Moscow." + +"Have they surrendered my ancient capital without a battle?" asked +the Emperor quickly, his face suddenly flushing. + +Michaud respectfully delivered the message Kutuzov had entrusted +to him, which was that it had been impossible to fight before +Moscow, and that as the only remaining choice was between losing the +army as well as Moscow, or losing Moscow alone, the field marshal +had to choose the latter. + +The Emperor listened in silence, not looking at Michaud. + +"Has the enemy entered the city?" he asked. + +"Yes, sire, and Moscow is now in ashes. I left it all in flames," +replied Michaud in a decided tone, but glancing at the Emperor he +was frightened by what he had done. + +The Emperor began to breathe heavily and rapidly, his lower lip +trembled, and tears instantly appeared in his fine blue eyes. + +But this lasted only a moment. He suddenly frowned, as if blaming +himself for his weakness, and raising his head addressed Michaud in +a firm voice: + +"I see, Colonel, from all that is happening, that Providence +requires great sacrifices of us... I am ready to submit myself in +all things to His will; but tell me, Michaud, how did you leave the +army when it saw my ancient capital abandoned without a battle? Did +you not notice discouragement?..." + +Seeing that his most gracious ruler was calm once more, Michaud also +grew calm, but was not immediately ready to reply to the Emperor's +direct and relevant question which required a direct answer. + +"Sire, will you allow me to speak frankly as befits a loyal +soldier?" he asked to gain time. + +"Colonel, I always require it," replied the Emperor. "Conceal +nothing from me, I wish to know absolutely how things are." + +"Sire!" said Michaud with a subtle, scarcely perceptible smile on +his lips, having now prepared a well-phrased reply, "sire, I left +the whole army, from its chiefs to the lowest soldier, without +exception in desperate and agonized terror..." + +"How is that?" the Emperor interrupted him, frowning sternly. "Would +misfortune make my Russians lose heart?... Never!" + +Michaud had only waited for this to bring out the phrase he had +prepared. + +"Sire," he said, with respectful playfulness, "they are only +afraid lest Your Majesty, in the goodness of your heart, should +allow yourself to be persuaded to make peace. They are burning for the +combat," declared this representative of the Russian nation, "and to +prove to Your Majesty by the sacrifice of their lives how devoted they +are...." + +"Ah!" said the Emperor reassured, and with a kindly gleam in his +eyes, he patted Michaud on the shoulder. "You set me at ease, +Colonel." + +He bent his head and was silent for some time. + +"Well, then, go back to the army," he said, drawing himself up to +his full height and addressing Michaud with a gracious and majestic +gesture, "and tell our brave men and all my good subjects wherever you +go that when I have not a soldier left I shall put myself at the +head of my beloved nobility and my good peasants and so use the last +resources of my empire. It still offers me more than my enemies +suppose," said the Emperor growing more and more animated; "but should +it ever be ordained by Divine Providence," he continued, raising to +heaven his fine eyes shining with emotion, "that my dynasty should +cease to reign on the throne of my ancestors, then after exhausting +all the means at my command, I shall let my beard grow to here" (he +pointed halfway down his chest) "and go and eat potatoes with the +meanest of my peasants, rather than sign the disgrace of my country +and of my beloved people whose sacrifices I know how to appreciate." + +Having uttered these words in an agitated voice the Emperor suddenly +turned away as if to hide from Michaud the tears that rose to his +eyes, and went to the further end of his study. Having stood there a +few moments, he strode back to Michaud and pressed his arm below the +elbow with a vigorous movement. The Emperor's mild and handsome face +was flushed and his eyes gleamed with resolution and anger. + +"Colonel Michaud, do not forget what I say to you here, perhaps we +may recall it with pleasure someday... Napoleon or I," said the +Emperor, touching his breast. "We can no longer both reign together. I +have learned to know him, and he will not deceive me any more...." + +And the Emperor paused, with a frown. + +When he heard these words and saw the expression of firm +resolution in the Emperor's eyes, Michaud--quoique etranger, russe +de coeur et d'ame--at that solemn moment felt himself enraptured by +all that he had heard (as he used afterwards to say), and gave +expression to his own feelings and those of the Russian people whose +representative he considered himself to be, in the following words: + +"Sire!" said he, "Your Majesty is at this moment signing the glory +of the nation and the salvation of Europe!" + +With an inclination of the head the Emperor dismissed him. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It is natural for us who were not living in those days to imagine +that when half Russia had been conquered and the inhabitants were +fleeing to distant provinces, and one levy after another was being +raised for the defense of the fatherland, all Russians from the +greatest to the least were solely engaged in sacrificing themselves, +saving their fatherland, or weeping over its downfall. The tales and +descriptions of that time without exception speak only of the +self-sacrifice, patriotic devotion, despair, grief, and the heroism of +the Russians. But it was not really so. It appears so to us because we +see only the general historic interest of that time and do not see all +the personal human interests that people had. Yet in reality those +personal interests of the moment so much transcend the general +interests that they always prevent the public interest from being felt +or even noticed. Most of the people at that time paid no attention +to the general progress of events but were guided only by their +private interests, and they were the very people whose activities at +that period were most useful. + +Those who tried to understand the general course of events and to +take part in it by self-sacrifice and heroism were the most useless +members of society, they saw everything upside down, and all they +did for the common good turned out to be useless and foolish--like +Pierre's and Mamonov's regiments which looted Russian villages, and +the lint the young ladies prepared and that never reached the wounded, +and so on. Even those, fond of intellectual talk and of expressing +their feelings, who discussed Russia's position at the time +involuntarily introduced into their conversation either a shade of +pretense and falsehood or useless condemnation and anger directed +against people accused of actions no one could possibly be guilty +of. In historic events the rule forbidding us to eat of the fruit of +the Tree of Knowledge is specially applicable. Only unconscious action +bears fruit, and he who plays a part in an historic event never +understands its significance. If he tries to realize it his efforts +are fruitless. + +The more closely a man was engaged in the events then taking place +in Russia the less did he realize their significance. In Petersburg +and in the provinces at a distance from Moscow, ladies, and +gentlemen in militia uniforms, wept for Russia and its ancient capital +and talked of self-sacrifice and so on; but in the army which +retired beyond Moscow there was little talk or thought of Moscow, +and when they caught sight of its burned ruins no one swore to be +avenged on the French, but they thought about their next pay, their +next quarters, of Matreshka the vivandiere, and like matters. + +As the war had caught him in the service, Nicholas Rostov took a +close and prolonged part in the defense of his country, but did so +casually, without any aim at self-sacrifice, and he therefore looked +at what was going on in Russia without despair and without dismally +racking his brains over it. Had he been asked what he thought of the +state of Russia, he would have said that it was not his business to +think about it, that Kutuzov and others were there for that purpose, +but that he had heard that the regiments were to be made up to their +full strength, that fighting would probably go on for a long time yet, +and that things being so it was quite likely he might be in command of +a regiment in a couple of years' time. + +As he looked at the matter in this way, he learned that he was being +sent to Voronezh to buy remounts for his division, not only without +regret at being prevented from taking part in the coming battle, but +with the greatest pleasure--which he did not conceal and which his +comrades fully understood. + +A few days before the battle of Borodino, Nicholas received the +necessary money and warrants, and having sent some hussars on in +advance, he set out with post horses for Voronezh. + +Only a man who has experienced it--that is, has passed some months +continuously in an atmosphere of campaigning and war--can understand +the delight Nicholas felt when he escaped from the region covered by +the army's foraging operations, provision trains, and hospitals. +When--free from soldiers, wagons, and the filthy traces of a camp--he +saw villages with peasants and peasant women, gentlemen's country +houses, fields where cattle were grazing, posthouses with +stationmasters asleep in them, he rejoiced as though seeing all this +for the first time. What for a long while specially surprised and +delighted him were the women, young and healthy, without a dozen +officers making up to each of them; women, too, who were pleased and +flattered that a passing officer should joke with them. + +In the highest spirits Nicholas arrived at night at a hotel in +Voronezh, ordered things he had long been deprived of in camp, and +next day, very clean-shaven and in a full-dress uniform he had not +worn for a long time, went to present himself to the authorities. + +The commander of the militia was a civilian general, an old man +who was evidently pleased with his military designation and rank. He +received Nicholas brusquely (imagining this to be characteristically +military) and questioned him with an important air, as if +considering the general progress of affairs and approving and +disapproving with full right to do so. Nicholas was in such good +spirits that this merely amused him. + +From the commander of the militia he drove to the governor. The +governor was a brisk little man, very simple and affable. He indicated +the stud farms at which Nicholas might procure horses, recommended +to him a horse dealer in the town and a landowner fourteen miles out +of town who had the best horses, and promised to assist him in every +way. + +"You are Count Ilya Rostov's son? My wife was a great friend of your +mother's. We are at home on Thursdays--today is Thursday, so please +come and see us quite informally," said the governor, taking leave +of him. + +Immediately on leaving the governor's, Nicholas hired post horses +and, taking his squadron quartermaster with him, drove at a gallop +to the landowner, fourteen miles away, who had the stud. Everything +seemed to him pleasant and easy during that first part of his stay +in Voronezh and, as usually happens when a man is in a pleasant +state of mind, everything went well and easily. + +The landowner to whom Nicholas went was a bachelor, an old +cavalryman, a horse fancier, a sportsman, the possessor of some +century-old brandy and some old Hungarian wine, who had a snuggery +where he smoked, and who owned some splendid horses. + +In very few words Nicholas bought seventeen picked stallions for six +thousand rubles--to serve, as he said, as samples of his remounts. +After dining and taking rather too much of the Hungarian wine, +Nicholas--having exchanged kisses with the landowner, with whom he was +already on the friendliest terms--galloped back over abominable roads, +in the brightest frame of mind, continually urging on the driver so as +to be in time for the governor's party. + +When he had changed, poured water over his head, and scented +himself, Nicholas arrived at the governor's rather late, but with +the phrase "better late than never" on his lips. + +It was not a ball, nor had dancing been announced, but everyone knew +that Catherine Petrovna would play valses and the ecossaise on the +clavichord and that there would be dancing, and so everyone had come +as to a ball. + +Provincial life in 1812 went on very much as usual, but with this +difference, that it was livelier in the towns in consequence of the +arrival of many wealthy families from Moscow, and as in everything +that went on in Russia at that time a special recklessness was +noticeable, an "in for a penny, in for a pound--who cares?" spirit, +and the inevitable small talk, instead of turning on the weather and +mutual acquaintances, now turned on Moscow, the army, and Napoleon. + +The society gathered together at the governor's was the best in +Voronezh. + +There were a great many ladies and some of Nicholas' Moscow +acquaintances, but there were no men who could at all vie with the +cavalier of St. George, the hussar remount officer, the good-natured +and well-bred Count Rostov. Among the men was an Italian prisoner, +an officer of the French army; and Nicholas felt that the presence +of that prisoner enhanced his own importance as a Russian hero. The +Italian was, as it were, a war trophy. Nicholas felt this, it seemed +to him that everyone regarded the Italian in the same light, and he +treated him cordially though with dignity and restraint. + +As soon as Nicholas entered in his hussar uniform, diffusing +around him a fragrance of perfume and wine, and had uttered the +words "better late than never" and heard them repeated several times +by others, people clustered around him; all eyes turned on him, and he +felt at once that he had entered into his proper position in the +province--that of a universal favorite: a very pleasant position, +and intoxicatingly so after his long privations. At posting +stations, at inns, and in the landowner's snuggery, maidservants had +been flattered by his notice, and here too at the governor's party +there were (as it seemed to Nicholas) an inexhaustible number of +pretty young women, married and unmarried, impatiently awaiting his +notice. The women and girls flirted with him and, from the first +day, the people concerned themselves to get this fine young +daredevil of an hussar married and settled down. Among these was the +governor's wife herself, who welcomed Rostov as a near relative and +called him "Nicholas." + +Catherine Petrovna did actually play valses and the ecossaise, and +dancing began in which Nicholas still further captivated the +provincial society by his agility. His particularly free manner of +dancing even surprised them all. Nicholas was himself rather surprised +at the way he danced that evening. He had never danced like that in +Moscow and would even have considered such a very free and easy manner +improper and in bad form, but here he felt it incumbent on him to +astonish them all by something unusual, something they would have to +accept as the regular thing in the capital though new to them in the +provinces. + +All the evening Nicholas paid attention to a blue-eyed, plump and +pleasing little blonde, the wife of one of the provincial officials. +With the naive conviction of young men in a merry mood that other +men's wives were created for them, Rostov did not leave the lady's +side and treated her husband in a friendly and conspiratorial style, +as if, without speaking of it, they knew how capitally Nicholas and +the lady would get on together. The husband, however, did not seem +to share that conviction and tried to behave morosely with Rostov. But +the latter's good-natured naivete was so boundless that sometimes even +he involuntarily yielded to Nicholas' good humor. Toward the end of +the evening, however, as the wife's face grew more flushed and +animated, the husband's became more and more melancholy and solemn, as +though there were but a given amount of animation between them and +as the wife's share increased the husband's diminished. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Nicholas sat leaning slightly forward in an armchair, bending +closely over the blonde lady and paying her mythological compliments +with a smile that never left his face. Jauntily shifting the +position of his legs in their tight riding breeches, diffusing an odor +of perfume, and admiring his partner, himself, and the fine outlines +of his legs in their well-fitting Hessian boots, Nicholas told the +blonde lady that he wished to run away with a certain lady here in +Voronezh. + +"Which lady?" + +"A charming lady, a divine one. Her eyes" (Nicholas looked at his +partner) "are blue, her mouth coral and ivory; her figure" (he glanced +at her shoulders) "like Diana's...." + +The husband came up and sullenly asked his wife what she was talking +about. + +"Ah, Nikita Ivanych!" cried Nicholas, rising politely, and as if +wishing Nikita Ivanych to share his joke, he began to tell him of +his intention to elope with a blonde lady. + +The husband smiled gloomily, the wife gaily. The governor's +good-natured wife came up with a look of disapproval. + +"Anna Ignatyevna wants to see you, Nicholas," said she, +pronouncing the name so that Nicholas at once understood that Anna +Ignatyevna was a very important person. "Come, Nicholas! You know +you let me call you so?" + +"Oh, yes, Aunt. Who is she?" + +"Anna Ignatyevna Malvintseva. She has heard from her niece how you +rescued her... Can you guess?" + +"I rescued such a lot of them!" said Nicholas. + +"Her niece, Princess Bolkonskaya. She is here in Voronezh with her +aunt. Oho! How you blush. Why, are...?" + +"Not a bit! Please don't, Aunt!" + +"Very well, very well!... Oh, what a fellow you are!" + +The governor's wife led him up to a tall and very stout old lady +with a blue headdress, who had just finished her game of cards with +the most important personages of the town. This was Malvintseva, +Princess Mary's aunt on her mother's side, a rich, childless widow who +always lived in Voronezh. When Rostov approached her she was +standing settling up for the game. She looked at him and, screwing +up her eyes sternly, continued to upbraid the general who had won from +her. + +"Very pleased, mon cher," she then said, holding out her hand to +Nicholas. "Pray come and see me." + +After a few words about Princess Mary and her late father, whom +Malvintseva had evidently not liked, and having asked what Nicholas +knew of Prince Andrew, who also was evidently no favorite of hers, the +important old lady dismissed Nicholas after repeating her invitation +to come to see her. + +Nicholas promised to come and blushed again as he bowed. At the +mention of Princess Mary he experienced a feeling of shyness and +even of fear, which he himself did not understand. + +When he had parted from Malvintseva Nicholas wished to return to the +dancing, but the governor's little wife placed her plump hand on his +sleeve and, saying that she wanted to have a talk with him, led him to +her sitting room, from which those who were there immediately withdrew +so as not to be in her way. + +"Do you know, dear boy," began the governor's wife with a serious +expression on her kind little face, "that really would be the match +for you: would you like me to arrange it?" + +"Whom do you mean, Aunt?" asked Nicholas. + +"I will make a match for you with the princess. Catherine Petrovna +speaks of Lily, but I say, no--the princess! Do you want me to do +it? I am sure your mother will be grateful to me. What a charming girl +she is, really! And she is not at all so plain, either." + +"Not at all," replied Nicholas as if offended at the idea. "As +befits a soldier, Aunt, I don't force myself on anyone or refuse +anything," he said before he had time to consider what he was saying. + +"Well then, remember, this is not a joke!" + +"Of course not!" + +"Yes, yes," the governor's wife said as if talking to herself. "But, +my dear boy, among other things you are too attentive to the other, +the blonde. One is sorry for the husband, really...." + +"Oh no, we are good friends with him," said Nicholas in the +simplicity of his heart; it did not enter his head that a pastime so +pleasant to himself might not be pleasant to someone else. + +"But what nonsense I have been saying to the governor's wife!" +thought Nicholas suddenly at supper. "She will really begin to arrange +a match... and Sonya...?" And on taking leave of the governor's +wife, when she again smilingly said to him, "Well then, remember!" +he drew her aside. + +"But see here, to tell the truth, Aunt..." + +"What is it, my dear? Come, let's sit down here," said she. + +Nicholas suddenly felt a desire and need to tell his most intimate +thoughts (which he would not have told to his mother, his sister, or +his friend) to this woman who was almost a stranger. When he +afterwards recalled that impulse to unsolicited and inexplicable +frankness which had very important results for him, it seemed to +him--as it seems to everyone in such cases--that it was merely some +silly whim that seized him: yet that burst of frankness, together with +other trifling events, had immense consequences for him and for all +his family. + +"You see, Aunt, Mamma has long wanted me to marry an heiress, but +the very idea of marrying for money is repugnant to me." + +"Oh yes, I understand," said the governor's wife. + +"But Princess Bolkonskaya--that's another matter. I will tell you +the truth. In the first place I like her very much, I feel drawn to +her; and then, after I met her under such circumstances--so strangely, +the idea often occurred to me: 'This is fate.' Especially if you +remember that Mamma had long been thinking of it; but I had never +happened to meet her before, somehow it had always happened that we +did not meet. And as long as my sister Natasha was engaged to her +brother it was of course out of the question for me to think of +marrying her. And it must needs happen that I should meet her just +when Natasha's engagement had been broken off... and then +everything... So you see... I never told this to anyone and never +will, only to you." + +The governor's wife pressed his elbow gratefully. + +"You know Sonya, my cousin? I love her, and promised to marry her, +and will do so.... So you see there can be no question about-" said +Nicholas incoherently and blushing. + +"My dear boy, what a way to look at it! You know Sonya has nothing +and you yourself say your Papa's affairs are in a very bad way. And +what about your mother? It would kill her, that's one thing. And +what sort of life would it be for Sonya--if she's a girl with a heart? +Your mother in despair, and you all ruined.... No, my dear, you and +Sonya ought to understand that." + +Nicholas remained silent. It comforted him to hear these arguments. + +"All the same, Aunt, it is impossible," he rejoined with a sigh, +after a short pause. "Besides, would the princess have me? And +besides, she is now in mourning. How can one think of it!" + +"But you don't suppose I'm going to get you married at once? There +is always a right way of doing things," replied the governor's wife. + +"What a matchmaker you are, Aunt..." said Nicholas, kissing her +plump little hand. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +On reaching Moscow after her meeting with Rostov, Princess Mary +had found her nephew there with his tutor, and a letter from Prince +Andrew giving her instructions how to get to her Aunt Malvintseva at +Voronezh. That feeling akin to temptation which had tormented her +during her father's illness, since his death, and especially since her +meeting with Rostov was smothered by arrangements for the journey, +anxiety about her brother, settling in a new house, meeting new +people, and attending to her nephew's education. She was sad. Now, +after a month passed in quiet surroundings, she felt more and more +deeply the loss of her father which was associated in her mind with +the ruin of Russia. She was agitated and incessantly tortured by the +thought of the dangers to which her brother, the only intimate +person now remaining to her, was exposed. She was worried too about +her nephew's education for which she had always felt herself +incompetent, but in the depths of her soul she felt at peace--a +peace arising from consciousness of having stifled those personal +dreams and hopes that had been on the point of awakening within her +and were related to her meeting with Rostov. + +The day after her party the governor's wife came to see +Malvintseva and, after discussing her plan with the aunt, remarked +that though under present circumstances a formal betrothal was, of +course, not to be thought of, all the same the young people might be +brought together and could get to know one another. Malvintseva +expressed approval, and the governor's wife began to speak of Rostov +in Mary's presence, praising him and telling how he had blushed when +Princess Mary's name was mentioned. But Princess Mary experienced a +painful rather than a joyful feeling--her mental tranquillity was +destroyed, and desires, doubts, self-reproach, and hopes reawoke. + +During the two days that elapsed before Rostov called, Princess Mary +continually thought of how she ought to behave to him. First she +decided not to come to the drawing room when he called to see her +aunt--that it would not be proper for her, in her deep mourning, to +receive visitors; then she thought this would be rude after what he +had done for her; then it occurred to her that her aunt and the +governor's wife had intentions concerning herself and Rostov--their +looks and words at times seemed to confirm this supposition--then +she told herself that only she, with her sinful nature, could think +this of them: they could not forget that situated as she was, while +still wearing deep mourning, such matchmaking would be an insult to +her and to her father's memory. Assuming that she did go down to see +him, Princess Mary imagined the words he would say to her and what she +would say to him, and these words sometimes seemed undeservedly cold +and then to mean too much. More than anything she feared lest the +confusion she felt might overwhelm her and betray her as soon as she +saw him. + +But when on Sunday after church the footman announced in the drawing +room that Count Rostov had called, the princess showed no confusion, +only a slight blush suffused her cheeks and her eyes lit up with a new +and radiant light. + +"You have met him, Aunt?" said she in a calm voice, unable herself +to understand that she could be outwardly so calm and natural. + +When Rostov entered the room, the princess dropped her eyes for an +instant, as if to give the visitor time to greet her aunt, and then +just as Nicholas turned to her she raised her head and met his look +with shining eyes. With a movement full of dignity and grace she +half rose with a smile of pleasure, held out her slender, delicate +hand to him, and began to speak in a voice in which for the first time +new deep womanly notes vibrated. Mademoiselle Bourienne, who was in +the drawing room, looked at Princess Mary in bewildered surprise. +Herself a consummate coquette, she could not have maneuvered better on +meeting a man she wished to attract. + +"Either black is particularly becoming to her or she really has +greatly improved without my having noticed it. And above all, what +tact and grace!" thought Mademoiselle Bourienne. + +Had Princess Mary been capable of reflection at that moment, she +would have been more surprised than Mademoiselle Bourienne at the +change that had taken place in herself. From the moment she recognized +that dear, loved face, a new life force took possession of her and +compelled her to speak and act apart from her own will. From the +time Rostov entered, her face became suddenly transformed. It was as +if a light had been kindled in a carved and painted lantern and the +intricate, skillful, artistic work on its sides, that previously +seemed dark, coarse, and meaningless, was suddenly shown up in +unexpected and striking beauty. For the first time all that pure, +spiritual, inward travail through which she had lived appeared on +the surface. All her inward labor, her dissatisfaction with herself, +her sufferings, her strivings after goodness, her meekness, love, +and self-sacrifice--all this now shone in those radiant eyes, in her +delicate smile, and in every trait of her gentle face. + +Rostov saw all this as clearly as if he had known her whole life. He +felt that the being before him was quite different from, and better +than, anyone he had met before, and above all better than himself. + +Their conversation was very simple and unimportant. They spoke of +the war, and like everyone else unconsciously exaggerated their sorrow +about it; they spoke of their last meeting--Nicholas trying to +change the subject--they talked of the governor's kind wife, of +Nicholas' relations, and of Princess Mary's. + +She did not talk about her brother, diverting the conversation as +soon as her aunt mentioned Andrew. Evidently she could speak of +Russia's misfortunes with a certain artificiality, but her brother was +too near her heart and she neither could nor would speak lightly of +him. Nicholas noticed this, as he noticed every shade of Princess +Mary's character with an observation unusual to him, and everything +confirmed his conviction that she was a quite unusual and +extraordinary being. Nicholas blushed and was confused when people +spoke to him about the princess (as she did when he was mentioned) and +even when he thought of her, but in her presence he felt quite at +ease, and said not at all what he had prepared, but what, quite +appropriately, occurred to him at the moment. + +When a pause occurred during his short visit, Nicholas, as is +usual when there are children, turned to Prince Andrew's little son, +caressing him and asking whether he would like to be an hussar. He +took the boy on his knee, played with him, and looked round at +Princess Mary. With a softened, happy, timid look she watched the +boy she loved in the arms of the man she loved. Nicholas also +noticed that look and, as if understanding it, flushed with pleasure +and began to kiss the boy with good natured playfulness. + +As she was in mourning Princess Mary did not go out into society, +and Nicholas did not think it the proper thing to visit her again; but +all the same the governor's wife went on with her matchmaking, passing +on to Nicholas the flattering things Princess Mary said of him and +vice versa, and insisting on his declaring himself to Princess Mary. +For this purpose she arranged a meeting between the young people at +the bishop's house before Mass. + +Though Rostov told the governor's wife that he would not make any +declaration to Princess Mary, he promised to go. + +As at Tilsit Rostov had not allowed himself to doubt that what +everybody considered right was right, so now, after a short but +sincere struggle between his effort to arrange his life by his own +sense of justice, and in obedient submission to circumstances, he +chose the latter and yielded to the power he felt irresistibly +carrying him he knew not where. He knew that after his promise to +Sonya it would be what he deemed base to declare his feelings to +Princess Mary. And he knew that he would never act basely. But he also +knew (or rather felt at the bottom of his heart) that by resigning +himself now to the force of circumstances and to those who were +guiding him, he was not only doing nothing wrong, but was doing +something very important--more important than anything he had ever +done in his life. + +After meeting Princess Mary, though the course of his life went on +externally as before, all his former amusements lost their charm for +him and he often thought about her. But he never thought about her +as he had thought of all the young ladies without exception whom he +had met in society, nor as he had for a long time, and at one time +rapturously, thought about Sonya. He had pictured each of those +young ladies as almost all honest-hearted young men do, that is, as +a possible wife, adapting her in his imagination to all the conditions +of married life: a white dressing gown, his wife at the tea table, his +wife's carriage, little ones, Mamma and Papa, their relations to +her, and so on--and these pictures of the future had given him +pleasure. But with Princess Mary, to whom they were trying to get +him engaged, he could never picture anything of future married life. +If he tried, his pictures seemed incongruous and false. It made him +afraid. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The dreadful news of the battle of Borodino, of our losses in killed +and wounded, and the still more terrible news of the loss of Moscow +reached Voronezh in the middle of September. Princess Mary, having +learned of her brother's wound only from the Gazette and having no +definite news of him, prepared (so Nicholas heard, he had not seen her +again himself) to set off in search of Prince Andrew. + +When he received the news of the battle of Borodino and the +abandonment of Moscow, Rostov was not seized with despair, anger, +the desire for vengeance, or any feeling of that kind, but +everything in Voronezh suddenly seemed to him dull and tiresome, and +he experienced an indefinite feeling of shame and awkwardness. The +conversations he heard seemed to him insincere; he did not know how to +judge all these affairs and felt that only in the regiment would +everything again become clear to him. He made haste to finish buying +the horses, and often became unreasonably angry with his servant and +squadron quartermaster. + +A few days before his departure a special thanksgiving, at which +Nicholas was present, was held in the cathedral for the Russian +victory. He stood a little behind the governor and held himself with +military decorum through the service, meditating on a great variety of +subjects. When the service was over the governor's wife beckoned him +to her. + +"Have you seen the princess?" she asked, indicating with a +movement of her head a lady standing on the opposite side, beyond +the choir. + +Nicholas immediately recognized Princess Mary not so much by the +profile he saw under her bonnet as by the feeling of solicitude, +timidity, and pity that immediately overcame him. Princess Mary, +evidently engrossed by her thoughts, was crossing herself for the last +time before leaving the church. + +Nicholas looked at her face with surprise. It was the same face he +had seen before, there was the same general expression of refined, +inner, spiritual labor, but now it was quite differently lit up. There +was a pathetic expression of sorrow, prayer, and hope in it. As had +occurred before when she was present, Nicholas went up to her +without waiting to be prompted by the governor's wife and not asking +himself whether or not it was right and proper to address her here +in church, and told her he had heard of her trouble and sympathized +with his whole soul. As soon as she heard his voice a vivid glow +kindled in her face, lighting up both her sorrow and her joy. + +"There is one thing I wanted to tell you, Princess," said Rostov. +"It is that if your brother, Prince Andrew Nikolievich, were not +living, it would have been at once announced in the Gazette, as he +is a colonel." + +The princess looked at him, not grasping what he was saying, but +cheered by the expression of regretful sympathy on his face. + +"And I have known so many cases of a splinter wound" (the Gazette +said it was a shell) "either proving fatal at once or being very +slight," continued Nicholas. "We must hope for the best, and I am +sure..." + +Princess Mary interrupted him. + +"Oh, that would be so dread..." she began and, prevented by +agitation from finishing, she bent her head with a movement as +graceful as everything she did in his presence and, looking up at +him gratefully, went out, following her aunt. + +That evening Nicholas did not go out, but stayed at home to settle +some accounts with the horse dealers. When he had finished that +business it was already too late to go anywhere but still too early to +go to bed, and for a long time he paced up and down the room, +reflecting on his life, a thing he rarely did. + +Princess Mary had made an agreeable impression on him when he had +met her in Smolensk province. His having encountered her in such +exceptional circumstances, and his mother having at one time mentioned +her to him as a good match, had drawn his particular attention to her. +When he met her again in Voronezh the impression she made on him was +not merely pleasing but powerful. Nicholas had been struck by the +peculiar moral beauty he observed in her at this time. He was, +however, preparing to go away and it had not entered his head to +regret that he was thus depriving himself of chances of meeting her. +But that day's encounter in church had, he felt, sunk deeper than +was desirable for his peace of mind. That pale, sad, refined face, +that radiant look, those gentle graceful gestures, and especially +the deep and tender sorrow expressed in all her features agitated +him and evoked his sympathy. In men Rostov could not bear to see the +expression of a higher spiritual life (that was why he did not like +Prince Andrew) and he referred to it contemptuously as philosophy +and dreaminess, but in Princess Mary that very sorrow which revealed +the depth of a whole spiritual world foreign to him was an +irresistible attraction. + +"She must be a wonderful woman. A real angel!" he said to himself. +"Why am I not free? Why was I in such a hurry with Sonya?" And he +involuntarily compared the two: the lack of spirituality in the one +and the abundance of it in the other--a spirituality he himself lacked +and therefore valued most highly. He tried to picture what would +happen were he free. How he would propose to her and how she would +become his wife. But no, he could not imagine that. He felt awed, +and no clear picture presented itself to his mind. He had long ago +pictured to himself a future with Sonya, and that was all clear and +simple just because it had all been thought out and he knew all +there was in Sonya, but it was impossible to picture a future with +Princess Mary, because he did not understand her but simply loved her. + +Reveries about Sonya had had something merry and playful in them, +but to dream of Princess Mary was always difficult and a little +frightening. + +"How she prayed!" he thought. "It was plain that her whole soul +was in her prayer. Yes, that was the prayer that moves mountains, +and I am sure her prayer will be answered. Why don't I pray for what I +want?" he suddenly thought. "What do I want? To be free, released from +Sonya... She was right," he thought, remembering what the governor's +wife had said: "Nothing but misfortune can come of marrying Sonya. +Muddles, grief for Mamma... business difficulties... muddles, terrible +muddles! Besides, I don't love her--not as I should. O, God! release +me from this dreadful, inextricable position!" he suddenly began to +pray. "Yes, prayer can move mountains, but one must have faith and not +pray as Natasha and I used to as children, that the snow might turn +into sugar--and then run out into the yard to see whether it had +done so. No, but I am not praying for trifles now," he thought as he +put his pipe down in a corner, and folding his hands placed himself +before the icon. Softened by memories of Princess Mary he began to +pray as he had not done for a long time. Tears were in his eyes and in +his throat when the door opened and Lavrushka came in with some +papers. + +"Blockhead! Why do you come in without being called?" cried +Nicholas, quickly changing his attitude. + +"From the governor," said Lavrushka in a sleepy voice. "A courier +has arrived and there's a letter for you." + +"Well, all right, thanks. You can go!" + +Nicholas took the two letters, one of which was from his mother +and the other from Sonya. He recognized them by the handwriting and +opened Sonya's first. He had read only a few lines when he turned pale +and his eyes opened wide with fear and joy. + +"No, it's not possible!" he cried aloud. + +Unable to sit still he paced up and down the room holding the letter +and reading it. He glanced through it, then read it again, and then +again, and standing still in the middle of the room he raised his +shoulders, stretching out his hands, with his mouth wide open and +his eyes fixed. What he had just been praying for with confidence that +God would hear him had come to pass; but Nicholas was as much +astonished as if it were something extraordinary and unexpected, and +as if the very fact that it had happened so quickly proved that it had +not come from God to whom he had prayed, but by some ordinary +coincidence. + +This unexpected and, as it seemed to Nicholas, quite voluntary +letter from Sonya freed him from the knot that fettered him and from +which there had seemed no escape. She wrote that the last +unfortunate events--the loss of almost the whole of the Rostovs' +Moscow property--and the countess' repeatedly expressed wish that +Nicholas should marry Princess Bolkonskaya, together with his +silence and coldness of late, had all combined to make her decide to +release him from his promise and set him completely free. + + +It would be too painful to me to think that I might be a cause of +sorrow or discord in the family that has been so good to me (she +wrote), and my love has no aim but the happiness of those I love; +so, Nicholas, I beg you to consider yourself free, and to be assured +that, in spite of everything, no one can love you more than does + +Your Sonya + + +Both letters were written from Troitsa. The other, from the +countess, described their last days in Moscow, their departure, the +fire, and the destruction of all their property. In this letter the +countess also mentioned that Prince Andrew was among the wounded +traveling with them; his state was very critical, but the doctor +said there was now more hope. Sonya and Natasha were nursing him. + +Next day Nicholas took his mother's letter and went to see +Princess Mary. Neither he nor she said a word about what "Natasha +nursing him" might mean, but thanks to this letter Nicholas suddenly +became almost as intimate with the princess as if they were relations. + +The following day he saw Princess Mary off on her journey to +Yaroslavl, and a few days later left to rejoin his regiment. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Sonya's letter written from Troitsa, which had come as an answer +to Nicholas' prayer, was prompted by this: the thought of getting +Nicholas married to an heiress occupied the old countess' mind more +and more. She knew that Sonya was the chief obstacle to this +happening, and Sonya's life in the countess' house had grown harder +and harder, especially after they had received a letter from +Nicholas telling of his meeting with Princess Mary in Bogucharovo. The +countess let no occasion slip of making humiliating or cruel allusions +to Sonya. + +But a few days before they left Moscow, moved and excited by all +that was going on, she called Sonya to her and, instead of reproaching +and making demands on her, tearfully implored her to sacrifice herself +and repay all that the family had done for her by breaking off her +engagement with Nicholas. + +"I shall not be at peace till you promise me this." + +Sonya burst into hysterical tears and replied through her sobs +that she would do anything and was prepared for anything, but gave +no actual promise and could not bring herself to decide to do what was +demanded of her. She must sacrifice herself for the family that had +reared and brought her up. To sacrifice herself for others was Sonya's +habit. Her position in the house was such that only by sacrifice could +she show her worth, and she was accustomed to this and loved doing it. +But in all her former acts of self-sacrifice she had been happily +conscious that they raised her in her own esteem and in that of +others, and so made her more worthy of Nicholas whom she loved more +than anything in the world. But now they wanted her to sacrifice the +very thing that constituted the whole reward for her self-sacrifice +and the whole meaning of her life. And for the first time she felt +bitterness against those who had been her benefactors only to +torture her the more painfully; she felt jealous of Natasha who had +never experienced anything of this sort, had never needed to sacrifice +herself, but made others sacrifice themselves for her and yet was +beloved by everybody. And for the first time Sonya felt that out of +her pure, quiet love for Nicholas a passionate feeling was beginning +to grow up which was stronger than principle, virtue, or religion. +Under the influence of this feeling Sonya, whose life of dependence +had taught her involuntarily to be secretive, having answered the +countess in vague general terms, avoided talking with her and resolved +to wait till she should see Nicholas, not in order to set him free but +on the contrary at that meeting to bind him to her forever. + +The bustle and terror of the Rostovs' last days in Moscow stifled +the gloomy thoughts that oppressed Sonya. She was glad to find +escape from them in practical activity. But when she heard of Prince +Andrew's presence in their house, despite her sincere pity for him and +for Natasha, she was seized by a joyful and superstitious feeling that +God did not intend her to be separated from Nicholas. She knew that +Natasha loved no one but Prince Andrew and had never ceased to love +him. She knew that being thrown together again under such terrible +circumstances they would again fall in love with one another, and that +Nicholas would then not be able to marry Princess Mary as they would +be within the prohibited degrees of affinity. Despite all the terror +of what had happened during those last days and during the first +days of their journey, this feeling that Providence was intervening in +her personal affairs cheered Sonya. + +At the Troitsa monastery the Rostovs first broke their journey for a +whole day. + +Three large rooms were assigned to them in the monastery hostelry, +one of which was occupied by Prince Andrew. The wounded man was much +better that day and Natasha was sitting with him. In the next room sat +the count and countess respectfully conversing with the prior, who was +calling on them as old acquaintances and benefactors of the monastery. +Sonya was there too, tormented by curiosity as to what Prince Andrew +and Natasha were talking about. She heard the sound of their voices +through the door. That door opened and Natasha came out, looking +excited. Not noticing the monk, who had risen to greet her and was +drawing back the wide sleeve on his right arm, she went up to Sonya +and took her hand. + +"Natasha, what are you about? Come here!" said the countess. + +Natasha went up to the monk for his blessing, and he advised her to +pray for aid to God and His saint. + +As soon as the prior withdrew, Natasha took her friend by the hand +and went with her into the unoccupied room. + +"Sonya, will he live?" she asked. "Sonya, how happy I am, and how +unhappy!... Sonya, dovey, everything is as it used to be. If only he +lives! He cannot... because... because... of" and Natasha burst into +tears. + +"Yes! I knew it! Thank God!" murmured Sonya. "He will live." + +Sonya was not less agitated than her friend by the latter's fear and +grief and by her own personal feelings which she shared with no one. +Sobbing, she kissed and comforted Natasha. "If only he lives!" she +thought. Having wept, talked, and wiped away their tears, the two +friends went together to Prince Andrew's door. Natasha opened it +cautiously and glanced into the room, Sonya standing beside her at the +half-open door. + +Prince Andrew was lying raised high on three pillows. His pale +face was calm, his eyes closed, and they could see his regular +breathing. + +"O, Natasha!" Sonya suddenly almost screamed, catching her +companion's arm and stepping back from the door. + +"What? What is it?" asked Natasha. + +"It's that, that..." said Sonya, with a white face and trembling +lips. + +Natasha softly closed the door and went with Sonya to the window, +not yet understanding what the latter was telling her. + +"You remember," said Sonya with a solemn and frightened +expression. "You remember when I looked in the mirror for you... at +Otradnoe at Christmas? Do you remember what I saw?" + +"Yes, yes!" cried Natasha opening her eyes wide, and vaguely +recalling that Sonya had told her something about Prince Andrew whom +she had seen lying down. + +"You remember?" Sonya went on. "I saw it then and told everybody, +you and Dunyasha. I saw him lying on a bed," said she, making a +gesture with her hand and a lifted finger at each detail, "and that he +had his eyes closed and was covered just with a pink quilt, and that +his hands were folded," she concluded, convincing herself that the +details she had just seen were exactly what she had seen in the +mirror. + +She had in fact seen nothing then but had mentioned the first +thing that came into her head, but what she had invented then seemed +to her now as real as any other recollection. She not only +remembered what she had then said--that he turned to look at her and +smiled and was covered with something red--but was firmly convinced +that she had then seen and said that he was covered with a pink +quilt and that his eyes were closed. + +"Yes, yes, it really was pink!" cried Natasha, who now thought she +too remembered the word pink being used, and saw in this the most +extraordinary and mysterious part of the prediction. + +"But what does it mean?" she added meditatively. + +"Oh, I don't know, it is all so strange," replied Sonya, clutching +at her head. + +A few minutes later Prince Andrew rang and Natasha went to him, +but Sonya, feeling unusually excited and touched, remained at the +window thinking about the strangeness of what had occurred. + + +They had an opportunity that day to send letters to the army, and +the countess was writing to her son. + +"Sonya!" said the countess, raising her eyes from her letter as +her niece passed, "Sonya, won't you write to Nicholas?" She spoke in a +soft, tremulous voice, and in the weary eyes that looked over her +spectacles Sonya read all that the countess meant to convey with these +words. Those eyes expressed entreaty, shame at having to ask, fear +of a refusal, and readiness for relentless hatred in case of such +refusal. + +Sonya went up to the countess and, kneeling down, kissed her hand. + +"Yes, Mamma, I will write," said she. + +Sonya was softened, excited, and touched by all that had occurred +that day, especially by the mysterious fulfillment she had just seen +of her vision. Now that she knew that the renewal of Natasha's +relations with Prince Andrew would prevent Nicholas from marrying +Princess Mary, she was joyfully conscious of a return of that +self-sacrificing spirit in which she was accustomed to live and +loved to live. So with a joyful consciousness of performing a +magnanimous deed--interrupted several times by the tears that dimmed +her velvety black eyes--she wrote that touching letter the arrival +of which had so amazed Nicholas. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The officer and soldiers who had arrested Pierre treated him with +hostility but yet with respect, in the guardhouse to which he was +taken. In their attitude toward him could still be felt both +uncertainty as to who he might be--perhaps a very important +person--and hostility as a result of their recent personal conflict +with him. + +But when the guard was relieved next morning, Pierre felt that for +the new guard--both officers and men--he was not as interesting as +he had been to his captors; and in fact the guard of the second day +did not recognize in this big, stout man in a peasant coat the +vigorous person who had fought so desperately with the marauder and +the convoy and had uttered those solemn words about saving a child; +they saw in him only No. 17 of the captured Russians, arrested and +detained for some reason by order of the Higher Command. If they +noticed anything remarkable about Pierre, it was only his unabashed, +meditative concentration and thoughtfulness, and the way he spoke +French, which struck them as surprisingly good. In spite of this he +was placed that day with the other arrested suspects, as the +separate room he had occupied was required by an officer. + +All the Russians confined with Pierre were men of the lowest class +and, recognizing him as a gentleman, they all avoided him, more +especially as he spoke French. Pierre felt sad at hearing them +making fun of him. + +That evening he learned that all these prisoners (he, probably, +among them) were to be tried for incendiarism. On the third day he was +taken with the others to a house where a French general with a white +mustache sat with two colonels and other Frenchmen with scarves on +their arms. With the precision and definiteness customary in +addressing prisoners, and which is supposed to preclude human frailty, +Pierre like the others was questioned as to who he was, where he had +been, with what object, and so on. + +These questions, like questions put at trials generally, left the +essence of the matter aside, shut out the possibility of that +essence's being revealed, and were designed only to form a channel +through which the judges wished the answers of the accused to flow +so as to lead to the desired result, namely a conviction. As soon as +Pierre began to say anything that did not fit in with that aim, the +channel was removed and the water could flow to waste. Pierre felt, +moreover, what the accused always feel at their trial, perplexity as +to why these questions were put to him. He had a feeling that it was +only out of condescension or a kind of civility that this device of +placing a channel was employed. He knew he was in these men's power, +that only by force had they brought him there, that force alone gave +them the right to demand answers to their questions, and that the sole +object of that assembly was to inculpate him. And so, as they had +the power and wish to inculpate him, this expedient of an inquiry +and trial seemed unnecessary. It was evident that any answer would +lead to conviction. When asked what he was doing when he was arrested, +Pierre replied in a rather tragic manner that he was restoring to +its parents a child he had saved from the flames. Why had he fought +the marauder? Pierre answered that he "was protecting a woman," and +that "to protect a woman who was being insulted was the duty of +every man; that..." They interrupted him, for this was not to the +point. Why was he in the yard of a burning house where witnesses had +seen him? He replied that he had gone out to see what was happening in +Moscow. Again they interrupted him: they had not asked where he was +going, but why he was found near the fire? Who was he? they asked, +repeating their first question, which he had declined to answer. Again +he replied that he could not answer it. + +"Put that down, that's bad... very bad," sternly remarked the +general with the white mustache and red flushed face. + + +On the fourth day fires broke out on the Zubovski rampart. + +Pierre and thirteen others were moved to the coach house of a +merchant's house near the Crimean bridge. On his way through the +streets Pierre felt stifled by the smoke which seemed to hang over the +whole city. Fires were visible on all sides. He did not then realize +the significance of the burning of Moscow, and looked at the fires +with horror. + +He passed four days in the coach house near the Crimean bridge and +during that time learned, from the talk of the French soldiers, that +all those confined there were awaiting a decision which might come any +day from the marshal. What marshal this was, Pierre could not learn +from the soldiers. Evidently for them "the marshal" represented a very +high and rather mysterious power. + +These first days, before the eighth of September when the +prisoners were had up for a second examination, were the hardest of +all for Pierre. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +On the eighth of September an officer--a very important one +judging by the respect the guards showed him--entered the coach +house where the prisoners were. This officer, probably someone on +the staff, was holding a paper in his hand, and called over all the +Russians there, naming Pierre as "the man who does not give his name." +Glancing indolently and indifferently at all the prisoners, he ordered +the officer in charge to have them decently dressed and tidied up +before taking them to the marshal. An hour later a squad of soldiers +arrived and Pierre with thirteen others was led to the Virgin's Field. +It was a fine day, sunny after rain, and the air was unusually pure. +The smoke did not hang low as on the day when Pierre had been taken +from the guardhouse on the Zubovski rampart, but rose through the pure +air in columns. No flames were seen, but columns of smoke rose on +all sides, and all Moscow as far as Pierre could see was one vast +charred ruin. On all sides there were waste spaces with only stoves +and chimney stacks still standing, and here and there the blackened +walls of some brick houses. Pierre gazed at the ruins and did not +recognize districts he had known well. Here and there he could see +churches that had not been burned. The Kremlin, which was not +destroyed, gleamed white in the distance with its towers and the +belfry of Ivan the Great. The domes of the New Convent of the Virgin +glittered brightly and its bells were ringing particularly clearly. +These bells reminded Pierre that it was Sunday and the feast of the +Nativity of the Virgin. But there seemed to be no one to celebrate +this holiday: everywhere were blackened ruins, and the few Russians to +be seen were tattered and frightened people who tried to hide when +they saw the French. + +It was plain that the Russian nest was ruined and destroyed, but +in place of the Russian order of life that had been destroyed, +Pierre unconsciously felt that a quite different, firm, French order +had been established over this ruined nest. He felt this in the +looks of the soldiers who, marching in regular ranks briskly and +gaily, were escorting him and the other criminals; he felt it in the +looks of an important French official in a carriage and pair driven by +a soldier, whom they met on the way. He felt it in the merry sounds of +regimental music he heard from the left side of the field, and felt +and realized it especially from the list of prisoners the French +officer had read out when he came that morning. Pierre had been +taken by one set of soldiers and led first to one and then to +another place with dozens of other men, and it seemed that they +might have forgotten him, or confused him with the others. But no: the +answers he had given when questioned had come back to him in his +designation as "the man who does not give his name," and under that +appellation, which to Pierre seemed terrible, they were now leading +him somewhere with unhesitating assurance on their faces that he and +all the other prisoners were exactly the ones they wanted and that +they were being taken to the proper place. Pierre felt himself to be +an insignificant chip fallen among the wheels of a machine whose +action he did not understand but which was working well. + +He and the other prisoners were taken to the right side of the +Virgin's Field, to a large white house with an immense garden not +far from the convent. This was Prince Shcherbitov's house, where +Pierre had often been in other days, and which, as he learned from the +talk of the soldiers, was now occupied by the marshal, the Duke of +Eckmuhl (Davout). + +They were taken to the entrance and led into the house one by one. +Pierre was the sixth to enter. He was conducted through a glass +gallery, an anteroom, and a hall, which were familiar to him, into a +long low study at the door of which stood an adjutant. + +Davout, spectacles on nose, sat bent over a table at the further end +of the room. Pierre went close up to him, but Davout, evidently +consulting a paper that lay before him, did not look up. Without +raising his eyes, he said in a low voice: + +"Who are you?" + +Pierre was silent because he was incapable of uttering a word. To +him Davout was not merely a French general, but a man notorious for +his cruelty. Looking at his cold face, as he sat like a stern +schoolmaster who was prepared to wait awhile for an answer, Pierre +felt that every instant of delay might cost him his life; but he did +not know what to say. He did not venture to repeat what he had said at +his first examination, yet to disclose his rank and position was +dangerous and embarrassing. So he was silent. But before he had +decided what to do, Davout raised his head, pushed his spectacles back +on his forehead, screwed up his eyes, and looked intently at him. + +"I know that man," he said in a cold, measured tone, evidently +calculated to frighten Pierre. + +The chill that had been running down Pierre's back now seized his +head as in a vise. + +"You cannot know me, General, I have never seen you..." + +"He is a Russian spy," Davout interrupted, addressing another +general who was present, but whom Pierre had not noticed. + +Davout turned away. With an unexpected reverberation in his voice +Pierre rapidly began: + +"No, monseigneur," he said, suddenly remembering that Davout was a +duke. "No, monseigneur, you cannot have known me. I am a militia +officer and have not quitted Moscow." + +"Your name?" asked Davout. + +"Bezukhov." + +"What proof have I that you are not lying?" + +"Monseigneur!" exclaimed Pierre, not in an offended but in a +pleading voice. + +Davout looked up and gazed intently at him. For some seconds they +looked at one another, and that look saved Pierre. Apart from +conditions of war and law, that look established human relations +between the two men. At that moment an immense number of things passed +dimly through both their minds, and they realized that they were +both children of humanity and were brothers. + +At the first glance, when Davout had only raised his head from the +papers where human affairs and lives were indicated by numbers, Pierre +was merely a circumstance, and Davout could have shot him without +burdening his conscience with an evil deed, but now he saw in him a +human being. He reflected for a moment. + +"How can you show me that you are telling the truth?" said Davout +coldly. + +Pierre remembered Ramballe, and named him and his regiment and the +street where the house was. + +"You are not what you say," returned Davout. + +In a trembling, faltering voice Pierre began adducing proofs of +the truth of his statements. + +But at that moment an adjutant entered and reported something to +Davout. + +Davout brightened up at the news the adjutant brought, and began +buttoning up his uniform. It seemed that he had quite forgotten +Pierre. + +When the adjutant reminded him of the prisoner, he jerked his head +in Pierre's direction with a frown and ordered him to be led away. But +where they were to take him Pierre did not know: back to the coach +house or to the place of execution his companions had pointed out to +him as they crossed the Virgin's Field. + +He turned his head and saw that the adjutant was putting another +question to Davout. + +"Yes, of course!" replied Davout, but what this "yes" meant, +Pierre did not know. + +Pierre could not afterwards remember how he went, whether it was +far, or in which direction. His faculties were quite numbed, he was +stupefied, and noticing nothing around him went on moving his legs +as the others did till they all stopped and he stopped too. The only +thought in his mind at that time was: who was it that had really +sentenced him to death? Not the men on the commission that had first +examined him--not one of them wished to or, evidently, could have done +it. It was not Davout, who had looked at him in so human a way. In +another moment Davout would have realized that he was doing wrong, but +just then the adjutant had come in and interrupted him. The +adjutant, also, had evidently had no evil intent though he might +have refrained from coming in. Then who was executing him, killing +him, depriving him of life--him, Pierre, with all his memories, +aspirations, hopes, and thoughts? Who was doing this? And Pierre +felt that it was no one. + +It was a system--a concurrence of circumstances. + +A system of some sort was killing him--Pierre--depriving him of +life, of everything, annihilating him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +From Prince Shcherbatov's house the prisoners were led straight down +the Virgin's Field, to the left of the nunnery, as far as a kitchen +garden in which a post had been set up. Beyond that post a fresh pit +had been dug in the ground, and near the post and the pit a large +crowd stood in a semicircle. The crowd consisted of a few Russians and +many of Napoleon's soldiers who were not on duty--Germans, Italians, +and Frenchmen, in a variety of uniforms. To the right and left of +the post stood rows of French troops in blue uniforms with red +epaulets and high boots and shakos. + +The prisoners were placed in a certain order, according to the +list (Pierre was sixth), and were led to the post. Several drums +suddenly began to beat on both sides of them, and at that sound Pierre +felt as if part of his soul had been torn away. He lost the power of +thinking or understanding. He could only hear and see. And he had only +one wish--that the frightful thing that had to happen should happen +quickly. Pierre looked round at his fellow prisoners and scrutinized +them. + +The two first were convicts with shaven heads. One was tall and +thin, the other dark, shaggy, and sinewy, with a flat nose. The +third was a domestic serf, about forty-five years old, with grizzled +hair and a plump, well-nourished body. The fourth was a peasant, a +very handsome man with a broad, light-brown beard and black eyes. +The fifth was a factory hand, a thin, sallow-faced lad of eighteen +in a loose coat. + +Pierre heard the French consulting whether to shoot them +separately or two at a time. "In couples," replied the officer in +command in a calm voice. There was a stir in the ranks of the soldiers +and it was evident that they were all hurrying--not as men hurry to do +something they understand, but as people hurry to finish a necessary +but unpleasant and incomprehensible task. + +A French official wearing a scarf came up to the right of the row of +prisoners and read out the sentence in Russian and in French. + +Then two pairs of Frenchmen approached the criminals and at the +officer's command took the two convicts who stood first in the row. +The convicts stopped when they reached the post and, while sacks +were being brought, looked dumbly around as a wounded beast looks at +an approaching huntsman. One crossed himself continually, the other +scratched his back and made a movement of the lips resembling a smile. +With hurried hands the soldiers blindfolded them, drawing the sacks +over their heads, and bound them to the post. + +Twelve sharpshooters with muskets stepped out of the ranks with a +firm regular tread and halted eight paces from the post. Pierre turned +away to avoid seeing what was going to happen. Suddenly a crackling, +rolling noise was heard which seemed to him louder than the most +terrific thunder, and he looked round. There was some smoke, and the +Frenchmen were doing something near the pit, with pale faces and +trembling hands. Two more prisoners were led up. In the same way and +with similar looks, these two glanced vainly at the onlookers with +only a silent appeal for protection in their eyes, evidently unable to +understand or believe what was going to happen to them. They could not +believe it because they alone knew what their life meant to them, +and so they neither understood nor believed that it could be taken +from them. + +Again Pierre did not wish to look and again turned away; but again +the sound as of a frightful explosion struck his ear, and at the +same moment he saw smoke, blood, and the pale, scared faces of the +Frenchmen who were again doing something by the post, their +trembling hands impeding one another. Pierre, breathing heavily, +looked around as if asking what it meant. The same question was +expressed in all the looks that met his. + +On the faces of all the Russians and of the French soldiers and +officers without exception, he read the same dismay, horror, and +conflict that were in his own heart. "But who, after all, is doing +this? They are all suffering as I am. Who then is it? Who?" flashed +for an instant through his mind. + +"Sharpshooters of the 86th, forward!" shouted someone. The fifth +prisoner, the one next to Pierre, was led away--alone. Pierre did +not understand that he was saved, that he and the rest had been +brought there only to witness the execution. With ever-growing horror, +and no sense of joy or relief, he gazed at what was taking place. +The fifth man was the factory lad in the loose cloak. The moment +they laid hands on him he sprang aside in terror and clutched at +Pierre. (Pierre shuddered and shook himself free.) The lad was +unable to walk. They dragged him along, holding him up under the arms, +and he screamed. When they got him to the post he grew quiet, as if he +suddenly understood something. Whether he understood that screaming +was useless or whether he thought it incredible that men should kill +him, at any rate he took his stand at the post, waiting to be +blindfolded like the others, and like a wounded animal looked around +him with glittering eyes. + +Pierre was no longer able to turn away and close his eyes. His +curiosity and agitation, like that of the whole crowd, reached the +highest pitch at this fifth murder. Like the others this fifth man +seemed calm; he wrapped his loose cloak closer and rubbed one bare +foot with the other. + +When they began to blindfold him he himself adjusted the knot +which hurt the back of his head; then when they propped him against +the bloodstained post, he leaned back and, not being comfortable in +that position, straightened himself, adjusted his feet, and leaned +back again more comfortably. Pierre did not take his eyes from him and +did not miss his slightest movement. + +Probably a word of command was given and was followed by the reports +of eight muskets; but try as he would Pierre could not afterwards +remember having heard the slightest sound of the shots. He only saw +how the workman suddenly sank down on the cords that held him, how +blood showed itself in two places, how the ropes slackened under the +weight of the hanging body, and how the workman sat down, his head +hanging unnaturally and one leg bent under him. Pierre ran up to the +post. No one hindered him. Pale, frightened people were doing +something around the workman. The lower jaw of an old Frenchman with a +thick mustache trembled as he untied the ropes. The body collapsed. +The soldiers dragged it awkwardly from the post and began pushing it +into the pit. + +They all plainly and certainly knew that they were criminals who +must hide the traces of their guilt as quickly as possible. + +Pierre glanced into the pit and saw that the factory lad was lying +with his knees close up to his head and one shoulder higher than the +other. That shoulder rose and fell rhythmically and convulsively, +but spadefuls of earth were already being thrown over the whole +body. One of the soldiers, evidently suffering, shouted gruffly and +angrily at Pierre to go back. But Pierre did not understand him and +remained near the post, and no one drove him away. + +When the pit had been filled up a command was given. Pierre was +taken back to his place, and the rows of troops on both sides of the +post made a half turn and went past it at a measured pace. The +twenty-four sharpshooters with discharged muskets, standing in the +center of the circle, ran back to their places as the companies passed +by. + +Pierre gazed now with dazed eyes at these sharpshooters who ran in +couples out of the circle. All but one rejoined their companies. +This one, a young soldier, his face deadly pale, his shako pushed +back, and his musket resting on the ground, still stood near the pit +at the spot from which he had fired. He swayed like a drunken man, +taking some steps forward and back to save himself from falling. An +old, noncommissioned officer ran out of the ranks and taking him by +the elbow dragged him to his company. The crowd of Russians and +Frenchmen began to disperse. They all went away silently and with +drooping heads. + +"That will teach them to start fires," said one of the Frenchmen. + +Pierre glanced round at the speaker and saw that it was a soldier +who was trying to find some relief after what had been done, but was +not able to do so. Without finishing what he had begun to say he +made a hopeless movement with his arm and went away. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +After the execution Pierre was separated from the rest of the +prisoners and placed alone in a small, ruined, and befouled church. + +Toward evening a noncommissioned officer entered with two soldiers +and told him that he had been pardoned and would now go to the +barracks for the prisoners of war. Without understanding what was said +to him, Pierre got up and went with the soldiers. They took him to the +upper end of the field, where there were some sheds built of charred +planks, beams, and battens, and led him into one of them. In the +darkness some twenty different men surrounded Pierre. He looked at +them without understanding who they were, why they were there, or what +they wanted of him. He heard what they said, but did not understand +the meaning of the words and made no kind of deduction from or +application of them. He replied to questions they put to him, but +did not consider who was listening to his replies, nor how they +would understand them. He looked at their faces and figures, but +they all seemed to him equally meaningless. + +From the moment Pierre had witnessed those terrible murders +committed by men who did not wish to commit them, it was as if the +mainspring of his life, on which everything depended and which made +everything appear alive, had suddenly been wrenched out and everything +had collapsed into a heap of meaningless rubbish. Though he did not +acknowledge it to himself, his faith in the right ordering of the +universe, in humanity, in his own soul, and in God, had been +destroyed. He had experienced this before, but never so strongly as +now. When similar doubts had assailed him before, they had been the +result of his own wrongdoing, and at the bottom of his heart he had +felt that relief from his despair and from those doubts was to be +found within himself. But now he felt that the universe had crumbled +before his eyes and only meaningless ruins remained, and this not by +any fault of his own. He felt that it was not in his power to regain +faith in the meaning of life. + +Around him in the darkness men were standing and evidently something +about him interested them greatly. They were telling him something and +asking him something. Then they led him away somewhere, and at last he +found himself in a corner of the shed among men who were laughing +and talking on all sides. + +"Well, then, mates... that very prince who..." some voice at the +other end of the shed was saying, with a strong emphasis on the word +who. + +Sitting silent and motionless on a heap of straw against the wall, +Pierre sometimes opened and sometimes closed his eyes. But as soon +as he closed them he saw before him the dreadful face of the factory +lad--especially dreadful because of its simplicity--and the faces of +the murderers, even more dreadful because of their disquiet. And he +opened his eyes again and stared vacantly into the darkness around +him. + +Beside him in a stooping position sat a small man of whose +presence he was first made aware by a strong smell of perspiration +which came from him every time he moved. This man was doing +something to his legs in the darkness, and though Pierre could not see +his face he felt that the man continually glanced at him. On growing +used to the darkness Pierre saw that the man was taking off his leg +bands, and the way he did it aroused Pierre's interest. + +Having unwound the string that tied the band on one leg, he +carefully coiled it up and immediately set to work on the other leg, +glancing up at Pierre. While one hand hung up the first string the +other was already unwinding the band on the second leg. In this way, +having carefully removed the leg bands by deft circular motions of his +arm following one another uninterruptedly, the man hung the leg +bands up on some pegs fixed above his head. Then he took out a +knife, cut something, closed the knife, placed it under the head of +his bed, and, seating himself comfortably, clasped his arms round +his lifted knees and fixed his eyes on Pierre. The latter was +conscious of something pleasant, comforting, and well rounded in these +deft movements, in the man's well-ordered arrangements in his +corner, and even in his very smell, and he looked at the man without +taking his eyes from him. + +"You've seen a lot of trouble, sir, eh?" the little man suddenly +said. + +And there was so much kindliness and simplicity in his singsong +voice that Pierre tried to reply, but his jaw trembled and he felt +tears rising to his eyes. The little fellow, giving Pierre no time +to betray his confusion, instantly continued in the same pleasant +tones: + +"Eh, lad, don't fret!" said he, in the tender singsong caressing +voice old Russian peasant women employ. "Don't fret, friend--'suffer +an hour, live for an age!' that's how it is, my dear fellow. And +here we live, thank heaven, without offense. Among these folk, too, +there are good men as well as bad," said he, and still speaking, he +turned on his knees with a supple movement, got up, coughed, and +went off to another part of the shed. + +"Eh, you rascal!" Pierre heard the same kind voice saying at the +other end of the shed. "So you've come, you rascal? She remembers... +Now, now, that'll do!" + +And the soldier, pushing away a little dog that was jumping up at +him, returned to his place and sat down. In his hands he had something +wrapped in a rag. + +"Here, eat a bit, sir," said he, resuming his former respectful tone +as he unwrapped and offered Pierre some baked potatoes. "We had soup +for dinner and the potatoes are grand!" + +Pierre had not eaten all day and the smell of the potatoes seemed +extremely pleasant to him. He thanked the soldier and began to eat. + +"Well, are they all right?" said the soldier with a smile. "You +should do like this." + +He took a potato, drew out his clasp knife, cut the potato into +two equal halves on the palm of his hand, sprinkled some salt on it +from the rag, and handed it to Pierre. + +"The potatoes are grand!" he said once more. "Eat some like that!" + +Pierre thought he had never eaten anything that tasted better. + +"Oh, I'm all right," said he, "but why did they shoot those poor +fellows? The last one was hardly twenty." + +"Tss, tt...!" said the little man. "Ah, what a sin... what a sin!" +he added quickly, and as if his words were always waiting ready in his +mouth and flew out involuntarily he went on: "How was it, sir, that +you stayed in Moscow?" + +"I didn't think they would come so soon. I stayed accidentally," +replied Pierre. + +"And how did they arrest you, dear lad? At your house?" + +"No, I went to look at the fire, and they arrested me there, and +tried me as an incendiary." + +"Where there's law there's injustice," put in the little man. + +"And have you been here long?" Pierre asked as he munched the last +of the potato. + +"I? It was last Sunday they took me, out of a hospital in Moscow." + +"Why, are you a soldier then?" + +"Yes, we are soldiers of the Apsheron regiment. I was dying of +fever. We weren't told anything. There were some twenty of us lying +there. We had no idea, never guessed at all." + +"And do you feel sad here?" Pierre inquired. + +"How can one help it, lad? My name is Platon, and the surname is +Karataev," he added, evidently wishing to make it easier for Pierre to +address him. "They call me 'little falcon' in the regiment. How is one +to help feeling sad? Moscow--she's the mother of cities. How can one +see all this and not feel sad? But 'the maggot gnaws the cabbage, +yet dies first'; that's what the old folks used to tell us," he +added rapidly. + +"What? What did you say?" asked Pierre. + +"Who? I?" said Karataev. "I say things happen not as we plan but +as God judges," he replied, thinking that he was repeating what he had +said before, and immediately continued: + +"Well, and you, have you a family estate, sir? And a house? So you +have abundance, then? And a housewife? And your old parents, are +they still living?" he asked. + +And though it was too dark for Pierre to see, he felt that a +suppressed smile of kindliness puckered the soldier's lips as he put +these questions. He seemed grieved that Pierre had no parents, +especially that he had no mother. + +"A wife for counsel, a mother-in-law for welcome, but there's none +as dear as one's own mother!" said he. "Well, and have you little +ones?" he went on asking. + +Again Pierre's negative answer seemed to distress him, and he +hastened to add: + +"Never mind! You're young folks yet, and please God may still have +some. The great thing is to live in harmony...." + +"But it's all the same now," Pierre could not help saying. + +"Ah, my dear fellow!" rejoined Karataev, "never decline a prison +or a beggar's sack!" + +He seated himself more comfortably and coughed, evidently +preparing to tell a long story. + +"Well, my dear fellow, I was still living at home," he began. "We +had a well-to-do homestead, plenty of land, we peasants lived well and +our house was one to thank God for. When Father and we went out mowing +there were seven of us. We lived well. We were real peasants. It so +happened..." + +And Platon Karataev told a long story of how he had gone into +someone's copse to take wood, how he had been caught by the keeper, +had been tried, flogged, and sent to serve as a soldier. + +"Well, lad," and a smile changed the tone of his voice "we thought +it was a misfortune but it turned out a blessing! If it had not been +for my sin, my brother would have had to go as a soldier. But he, my +younger brother, had five little ones, while I, you see, only left a +wife behind. We had a little girl, but God took her before I went as a +soldier. I come home on leave and I'll tell you how it was, I look and +see that they are living better than before. The yard full of +cattle, the women at home, two brothers away earning wages, and only +Michael the youngest, at home. Father, he says, 'All my children are +the same to me: it hurts the same whichever finger gets bitten. But if +Platon hadn't been shaved for a soldier, Michael would have had to +go.' called us all to him and, will you believe it, placed us in front +of the icons. 'Michael,' he says, 'come here and bow down to his feet; +and you, young woman, you bow down too; and you, grandchildren, also +bow down before him! Do you understand?' he says. That's how it is, +dear fellow. Fate looks for a head. But we are always judging, 'that's +not well--that's not right!' Our luck is like water in a dragnet: +you pull at it and it bulges, but when you've drawn it out it's empty! +That's how it is." + +And Platon shifted his seat on the straw. + +After a short silence he rose. + +"Well, I think you must be sleepy," said he, and began rapidly +crossing himself and repeating: + +"Lord Jesus Christ, holy Saint Nicholas, Frola and Lavra! Lord Jesus +Christ, holy Saint Nicholas, Frola and Lavra! Lord Jesus Christ, +have mercy on us and save us!" he concluded, then bowed to the ground, +got up, sighed, and sat down again on his heap of straw. "That's the +way. Lay me down like a stone, O God, and raise me up like a loaf," he +muttered as he lay down, pulling his coat over him. + +"What prayer was that you were saying?" asked Pierre. + +"Eh?" murmured Platon, who had almost fallen asleep. "What was I +saying? I was praying. Don't you pray?" + +"Yes, I do," said Pierre. "But what was that you said: Frola and +Lavra?" + +"Well, of course," replied Platon quickly, "the horses' saints. +One must pity the animals too. Eh, the rascal! Now you've curled up +and got warm, you daughter of a bitch!" said Karataev, touching the +dog that lay at his feet, and again turning over he fell asleep +immediately. + +Sounds of crying and screaming came from somewhere in the distance +outside, and flames were visible through the cracks of the shed, but +inside it was quiet and dark. For a long time Pierre did not sleep, +but lay with eyes open in the darkness, listening to the regular +snoring of Platon who lay beside him, and he felt that the world +that had been shattered was once more stirring in his soul with a +new beauty and on new and unshakable foundations. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Twenty-three soldiers, three officers, and two officials were +confined in the shed in which Pierre had been placed and where he +remained for four weeks. + +When Pierre remembered them afterwards they all seemed misty figures +to him except Platon Karataev, who always remained in his mind a +most vivid and precious memory and the personification of everything +Russian, kindly, and round. When Pierre saw his neighbor next +morning at dawn the first impression of him, as of something round, +was fully confirmed: Platon's whole figure--in a French overcoat +girdled with a cord, a soldier's cap, and bast shoes--was round. His +head was quite round, his back, chest, shoulders, and even his arms, +which he held as if ever ready to embrace something, were rounded, his +pleasant smile and his large, gentle brown eyes were also round. + +Platon Karataev must have been fifty, judging by his stories of +campaigns he had been in, told as by an old soldier. He did not +himself know his age and was quite unable to determine it. But his +brilliantly white, strong teeth which showed in two unbroken +semicircles when he laughed--as he often did--were all sound and good, +there was not a gray hair in his beard or on his head, and his whole +body gave an impression of suppleness and especially of firmness and +endurance. + +His face, despite its fine, rounded wrinkles, had an expression of +innocence and youth, his voice was pleasant and musical. But the chief +peculiarity of his speech was its directness and appositeness. It +was evident that he never considered what he had said or was going +to say, and consequently the rapidity and justice of his intonation +had an irresistible persuasiveness. + +His physical strength and agility during the first days of his +imprisonment were such that he seemed not to know what fatigue and +sickness meant. Every night before lying down, he said: "Lord, lay +me down as a stone and raise me up as a loaf!" and every morning on +getting up, he said: "I lay down and curled up, I get up and shake +myself." And indeed he only had to lie down, to fall asleep like a +stone, and he only had to shake himself, to be ready without a +moment's delay for some work, just as children are ready to play +directly they awake. He could do everything, not very well but not +badly. He baked, cooked, sewed, planed, and mended boots. He was +always busy, and only at night allowed himself conversation--of +which he was fond--and songs. He did not sing like a trained singer +who knows he is listened to, but like the birds, evidently giving vent +to the sounds in the same way that one stretches oneself or walks +about to get rid of stiffness, and the sounds were always +high-pitched, mournful, delicate, and almost feminine, and his face at +such times was very serious. + +Having been taken prisoner and allowed his beard to grow, he seemed to +have thrown off all that had been forced upon him--everything military +and alien to himself--and had returned to his former peasant habits. + +"A soldier on leave--a shirt outside breeches," he would say. + +He did not like talking about his life as a soldier, though he did +not complain, and often mentioned that he had not been flogged once +during the whole of his army service. When he related anything it +was generally some old and evidently precious memory of his +"Christian" life, as he called his peasant existence. The proverbs, of +which his talk was full, were for the most part not the coarse and +indecent saws soldiers employ, but those folk sayings which taken +without a context seem so insignificant, but when used appositely +suddenly acquire a significance of profound wisdom. + +He would often say the exact opposite of what he had said on a +previous occasion, yet both would be right. He liked to talk and he +talked well, adorning his speech with terms of endearment and with +folk sayings which Pierre thought he invented himself, but the chief +charm of his talk lay in the fact that the commonest events--sometimes +just such as Pierre had witnessed without taking notice of +them--assumed in Karataev's a character of solemn fitness. He liked to +hear the folk tales one of the soldiers used to tell of an evening +(they were always the same), but most of all he liked to hear stories +of real life. He would smile joyfully when listening to such stories, +now and then putting in a word or asking a question to make the moral +beauty of what he was told clear to himself. Karataev had no +attachments, friendships, or love, as Pierre understood them, but +loved and lived affectionately with everything life brought him in +contact with, particularly with man--not any particular man, but those +with whom he happened to be. He loved his dog, his comrades, the +French, and Pierre who was his neighbor, but Pierre felt that in spite +of Karataev's affectionate tenderness for him (by which he +unconsciously gave Pierre's spiritual life its due) he would not have +grieved for a moment at parting from him. And Pierre began to feel in +the same way toward Karataev. + +To all the other prisoners Platon Karataev seemed a most ordinary +soldier. They called him "little falcon" or "Platosha," chaffed him +good-naturedly, and sent him on errands. But to Pierre he always +remained what he had seemed that first night: an unfathomable, +rounded, eternal personification of the spirit of simplicity and +truth. + +Platon Karataev knew nothing by heart except his prayers. When he +began to speak he seemed not to know how he would conclude. + +Sometimes Pierre, struck by the meaning of his words, would ask +him to repeat them, but Platon could never recall what he had said a +moment before, just as he never could repeat to Pierre the words of +his favorite song: native and birch tree and my heart is sick occurred +in it, but when spoken and not sung, no meaning could be got out of +it. He did not, and could not, understand the meaning of words apart +from their context. Every word and action of his was the manifestation +of an activity unknown to him, which was his life. But his life, as he +regarded it, had no meaning as a separate thing. It had meaning only +as part of a whole of which he was always conscious. His words and +actions flowed from him as evenly, inevitably, and spontaneously as +fragrance exhales from a flower. He could not understand the value +or significance of any word or deed taken separately. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +When Princess Mary heard from Nicholas that her brother was with the +Rostovs at Yaroslavl she at once prepared to go there, in spite of her +aunt's efforts to dissuade her--and not merely to go herself but to +take her nephew with her. Whether it were difficult or easy, +possible or impossible, she did not ask and did not want to know: it +was her duty not only herself to be near her brother who was perhaps +dying, but to do everything possible to take his son to him, and so +she prepared to set off. That she had not heard from Prince Andrew +himself, Princess Mary attributed to his being too weak to write or to +his considering the long journey too hard and too dangerous for her +and his son. + +In a few days Princess Mary was ready to start. Her equipages were +the huge family coach in which she had traveled to Voronezh, a +semiopen trap, and a baggage cart. With her traveled Mademoiselle +Bourienne, little Nicholas and his tutor, her old nurse, three +maids, Tikhon, and a young footman and courier her aunt had sent to +accompany her. + +The usual route through Moscow could not be thought of, and the +roundabout way Princess Mary was obliged to take through Lipetsk, +Ryazan, Vladimir, and Shuya was very long and, as post horses were not +everywhere obtainable, very difficult, and near Ryazan where the +French were said to have shown themselves was even dangerous. + +During this difficult journey Mademoiselle Bourienne, Dessalles, and +Princess Mary's servants were astonished at her energy and firmness of +spirit. She went to bed later and rose earlier than any of them, and +no difficulties daunted her. Thanks to her activity and energy, +which infected her fellow travelers, they approached Yaroslavl by +the end of the second week. + +The last days of her stay in Voronezh had been the happiest of her +life. Her love for Rostov no longer tormented or agitated her. It +filled her whole soul, had become an integral part of herself, and she +no longer struggled against it. Latterly she had become convinced that +she loved and was beloved, though she never said this definitely to +herself in words. She had become convinced of it at her last interview +with Nicholas, when he had come to tell her that her brother was +with the Rostovs. Not by a single word had Nicholas alluded to the +fact that Prince Andrew's relations with Natasha might, if he +recovered, be renewed, but Princess Mary saw by his face that he +knew and thought of this. + +Yet in spite of that, his relation to her--considerate, delicate, +and loving--not only remained unchanged, but it sometimes seemed to +Princess Mary that he was even glad that the family connection between +them allowed him to express his friendship more freely. She knew +that she loved for the first and only time in her life and felt that +she was beloved, and was happy in regard to it. + +But this happiness on one side of her spiritual nature did not +prevent her feeling grief for her brother with full force; on the +contrary, that spiritual tranquility on the one side made it the +more possible for her to give full play to her feeling for her +brother. That feeling was so strong at the moment of leaving +Voronezh that those who saw her off, as they looked at her careworn, +despairing face, felt sure she would fall ill on the journey. But +the very difficulties and preoccupations of the journey, which she +took so actively in hand, saved her for a while from her grief and +gave her strength. + +As always happens when traveling, Princess Mary thought only of +the journey itself, forgetting its object. But as she approached +Yaroslavl the thought of what might await her there--not after many +days, but that very evening--again presented itself to her and her +agitation increased to its utmost limit. + +The courier who had been sent on in advance to find out where the +Rostovs were staying in Yaroslavl, and in what condition Prince Andrew +was, when he met the big coach just entering the town gates was +appalled by the terrible pallor of the princess' face that looked +out at him from the window. + +"I have found out everything, your excellency: the Rostovs are +staying at the merchant Bronnikov's house, in the Square not far +from here, right above the Volga," said the courier. + +Princess Mary looked at him with frightened inquiry, not +understanding why he did not reply to what she chiefly wanted to know: +how was her brother? Mademoiselle Bourienne put that question for her. + +"How is the prince?" she asked. + +"His excellency is staying in the same house with them." + +"Then he is alive," thought Princess Mary, and asked in a low voice: +"How is he?" + +"The servants say he is still the same." + +What "still the same" might mean Princess Mary did not ask, but with +an unnoticed glance at little seven-year-old Nicholas, who was sitting +in front of her looking with pleasure at the town, she bowed her +head and did not raise it again till the heavy coach, rumbling, +shaking and swaying, came to a stop. The carriage steps clattered as +they were let down. + +The carriage door was opened. On the left there was water--a great +river--and on the right a porch. There were people at the entrance: +servants, and a rosy girl with a large plait of black hair, smiling as +it seemed to Princess Mary in an unpleasantly affected way. (This +was Sonya.) Princess Mary ran up the steps. "This way, this way!" said +the girl, with the same artificial smile, and the princess found +herself in the hall facing an elderly woman of Oriental type, who came +rapidly to meet her with a look of emotion. This was the countess. She +embraced Princess Mary and kissed her. + +"Mon enfant!" she muttered, "je vous aime et vous connais depuis +longtemps."* + + +*"My child! I love you and have known you a long time." + + + Despite her excitement, Princess Mary realized that this was the +countess and that it was necessary to say something to her. Hardly +knowing how she did it, she contrived to utter a few polite phrases in +French in the same tone as those that had been addressed to her, and +asked: "How is he?" + +"The doctor says that he is not in danger," said the countess, but +as she spoke she raised her eyes with a sigh, and her gesture conveyed +a contradiction of her words. + +"Where is he? Can I see him--can I?" asked the princess. + +"One moment, Princess, one moment, my dear! Is this his son?" said +the countess, turning to little Nicholas who was coming in with +Dessalles. "There will be room for everybody, this is a big house. Oh, +what a lovely boy!" + +The countess took Princess Mary into the drawing room, where Sonya +was talking to Mademoiselle Bourienne. The countess caressed the +boy, and the old count came in and welcomed the princess. He had +changed very much since Princess Mary had last seen him. Then he had +been a brisk, cheerful, self-assured old man; now he seemed a pitiful, +bewildered person. While talking to Princess Mary he continually +looked round as if asking everyone whether he was doing the right +thing. After the destruction of Moscow and of his property, thrown out +of his accustomed groove he seemed to have lost the sense of his own +significance and to feel that there was no longer a place for him in +life. + +In spite of her one desire to see her brother as soon as possible, +and her vexation that at the moment when all she wanted was to see him +they should be trying to entertain her and pretending to admire her +nephew, the princess noticed all that was going on around her and felt +the necessity of submitting, for a time, to this new order of things +which she had entered. She knew it to be necessary, and though it +was hard for her she was not vexed with these people. + +"This is my niece," said the count, introducing Sonya--"You don't +know her, Princess?" + +Princess Mary turned to Sonya and, trying to stifle the hostile +feeling that arose in her toward the girl, she kissed her. But she +felt oppressed by the fact that the mood of everyone around her was so +far from what was in her own heart. + +"Where is he?" she asked again, addressing them all. + +"He is downstairs. Natasha is with him," answered Sonya, flushing. +"We have sent to ask. I think you must be tired, Princess." + +Tears of vexation showed themselves in Princess Mary's eyes. She +turned away and was about to ask the countess again how to go to +him, when light, impetuous, and seemingly buoyant steps were heard +at the door. The princess looked round and saw Natasha coming in, +almost running--that Natasha whom she had liked so little at their +meeting in Moscow long since. + +But hardly had the princess looked at Natasha's face before she +realized that here was a real comrade in her grief, and consequently a +friend. She ran to meet her, embraced her, and began to cry on her +shoulder. + +As soon as Natasha, sitting at the head of Prince Andrew's bed, +heard of Princess Mary's arrival, she softly left his room and +hastened to her with those swift steps that had sounded buoyant to +Princess Mary. + +There was only one expression on her agitated face when she ran into +the drawing room--that of love--boundless love for him, for her, and +for all that was near to the man she loved; and of pity, suffering for +others, and passionate desire to give herself entirely to helping +them. It was plain that at that moment there was in Natasha's heart no +thought of herself or of her own relations with Prince Andrew. + +Princess Mary, with her acute sensibility, understood all this at +the first glance at Natasha's face, and wept on her shoulder with +sorrowful pleasure. + +"Come, come to him, Mary," said Natasha, leading her into the +other room. + +Princess Mary raised her head, dried her eyes, and turned to +Natasha. She felt that from her she would be able to understand and +learn everything. + +"How..." she began her question but stopped short. + +She felt that it was impossible to ask, or to answer, in words. +Natasha's face and eyes would have to tell her all more clearly +and profoundly. + +Natasha was gazing at her, but seemed afraid and in doubt whether to +say all she knew or not; she seemed to feel that before those luminous +eyes which penetrated into the very depths of her heart, it was +impossible not to tell the whole truth which she saw. And suddenly, +Natasha's lips twitched, ugly wrinkles gathered round her mouth, and +covering her face with her hands she burst into sobs. + +Princess Mary understood. + +But she still hoped, and asked, in words she herself did not trust: + +"But how is his wound? What is his general condition?" + +"You, you... will see," was all Natasha could say. + +They sat a little while downstairs near his room till they had +left off crying and were able to go to him with calm faces. + +"How has his whole illness gone? Is it long since he grew worse? +When did this happen?" Princess Mary inquired. + +Natasha told her that at first there had been danger from his +feverish condition and the pain he suffered, but at Troitsa that had +passed and the doctor had only been afraid of gangrene. That danger +had also passed. When they reached Yaroslavl the wound had begun to +fester (Natasha knew all about such things as festering) and the +doctor had said that the festering might take a normal course. Then +fever set in, but the doctor had said the fever was not very serious. + +"But two days ago this suddenly happened," said Natasha, +struggling with her sobs. "I don't know why, but you will see what +he is like." + +"Is he weaker? Thinner?" asked the princess. + +"No, it's not that, but worse. You will see. O, Mary, he is too +good, he cannot, cannot live, because..." + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +When Natasha opened Prince Andrew's door with a familiar movement +and let Princess Mary pass into the room before her, the princess felt +the sobs in her throat. Hard as she had tried to prepare herself, +and now tried to remain tranquil, she knew that she would be unable to +look at him without tears. + +The princess understood what Natasha had meant by the words: "two +days ago this suddenly happened." She understood those words to mean +that he had suddenly softened and that this softening and gentleness +were signs of approaching death. As she stepped to the door she +already saw in imagination Andrew's face as she remembered it in +childhood, a gentle, mild, sympathetic face which he had rarely shown, +and which therefore affected her very strongly. She was sure he +would speak soft, tender words to her such as her father had uttered +before his death, and that she would not be able to bear it and +would burst into sobs in his presence. Yet sooner or later it had to +be, and she went in. The sobs rose higher and higher in her throat +as she more and more clearly distinguished his form and her +shortsighted eyes tried to make out his features, and then she saw his +face and met his gaze. + +He was lying in a squirrel-fur dressing gown on a divan, +surrounded by pillows. He was thin and pale. In one thin, +translucently white hand he held a handkerchief, while with the +other he stroked the delicate mustache he had grown, moving his +fingers slowly. His eyes gazed at them as they entered. + +On seeing his face and meeting his eyes Princess Mary's pace +suddenly slackened, she felt her tears dry up and her sobs ceased. She +suddenly felt guilty and grew timid on catching the expression of +his face and eyes. + +"But in what am I to blame?" she asked herself. And his cold, +stern look replied: "Because you are alive and thinking of the living, +while I..." + +In the deep gaze that seemed to look not outwards but +inwards there was an almost hostile expression as he slowly regarded +his sister and Natasha. + +He kissed his sister, holding her hand in his as was their wont. + +"How are you, Mary? How did you manage to get here?" said he in a +voice as calm and aloof as his look. + +Had he screamed in agony, that scream would not have struck such +horror into Princess Mary's heart as the tone of his voice. + +"And have you brought little Nicholas?" he asked in the same slow, +quiet manner and with an obvious effort to remember. + +"How are you now?" said Princess Mary, herself surprised at what she +was saying. + +"That, my dear, you must ask the doctor," he replied, and again +making an evident effort to be affectionate, he said with his lips +only (his words clearly did not correspond to his thoughts): + +"Merci, chere amie, d'etre venue."* + + +*"Thank you for coming, my dear." + + +Princess Mary pressed his hand. The pressure made him wince just +perceptibly. He was silent, and she did not know what to say. She +now understood what had happened to him two days before. In his words, +his tone, and especially in that calm, almost antagonistic look +could be felt an estrangement from everything belonging to this world, +terrible in one who is alive. Evidently only with an effort did he +understand anything living; but it was obvious that he failed to +understand, not because he lacked the power to do so but because he +understood something else--something the living did not and could +not understand--and which wholly occupied his mind. + +"There, you see how strangely fate has brought us together," said +he, breaking the silence and pointing to Natasha. "She looks after +me all the time." + +Princess Mary heard him and did not understand how he could say such +a thing. He, the sensitive, tender Prince Andrew, how could he say +that, before her whom he loved and who loved him? Had he expected to +live he could not have said those words in that offensively cold tone. +If he had not known that he was dying, how could he have failed to +pity her and how could he speak like that in her presence? The only +explanation was that he was indifferent, because something else, +much more important, had been revealed to him. + +The conversation was cold and disconnected and continually broke +off. + +"Mary came by way of Ryazan," said Natasha. + +Prince Andrew did not notice that she called his sister Mary, and +only after calling her so in his presence did Natasha notice it +herself. + +"Really?" he asked. + +"They told her that all Moscow has been burned down, and that..." + +Natasha stopped. It was impossible to talk. It was plain that he was +making an effort to listen, but could not do so. + +"Yes, they say it's burned," he said. "It's a great pity," and he +gazed straight before him, absently stroking his mustache with his +fingers. + +"And so you have met Count Nicholas, Mary?" Prince Andrew suddenly +said, evidently wishing to speak pleasantly to them. "He wrote here +that he took a great liking to you," he went on simply and calmly, +evidently unable to understand all the complex significance his +words had for living people. "If you liked him too, it would be a good +thing for you to get married," he added rather more quickly, as if +pleased at having found words he had long been seeking. + +Princess Mary heard his words but they had no meaning for her, +except as a proof of how far away he now was from everything living. + +"Why talk of me?" she said quietly and glanced at Natasha. + +Natasha, who felt her glance, did not look at her. All three were +again silent. + +"Andrew, would you like..." Princess Mary suddenly said in a +trembling voice, "would you like to see little Nicholas? He is +always talking about you!" + +Prince Andrew smiled just perceptibly and for the first time, but +Princess Mary, who knew his face so well, saw with horror that he +did not smile with pleasure or affection for his son, but with +quiet, gentle irony because he thought she was trying what she +believed to be the last means of arousing him. + +"Yes, I shall be very glad to see him. Is he quite well?" + +When little Nicholas was brought into Prince Andrew's room he looked +at his father with frightened eyes, but did not cry, because no one +else was crying. Prince Andrew kissed him and evidently did not know +what to say to him. + +When Nicholas had been led away, Princess Mary again went up to +her brother, kissed him, and unable to restrain her tears any longer +began to cry. + +He looked at her attentively. + +"Is it about Nicholas?" he asked. + +Princess Mary nodded her head, weeping. + +"Mary, you know the Gosp..." but he broke off. + +"What did you say?" + +"Nothing. You mustn't cry here," he said, looking at her with the +same cold expression. + + +When Princess Mary began to cry, he understood that she was crying +at the thought that little Nicholas would be left without a father. +With a great effort he tried to return to life and to see things +from their point of view. + +"Yes, to them it must seem sad!" he thought. "But how simple it is. + +"The fowls of the air sow not, neither do they reap, yet your Father +feedeth them," he said to himself and wished to say to Princess +Mary; "but no, they will take it their own way, they won't understand! +They can't understand that all those feelings they prize so--all our +feelings, all those ideas that seem so important to us, are +unnecessary. We cannot understand one another," and he remained +silent. + + +Prince Andrew's little son was seven. He could scarcely read, and +knew nothing. After that day he lived through many things, gaining +knowledge, observation, and experience, but had he possessed all the +faculties he afterwards acquired, he could not have had a better or +more profound understanding of the meaning of the scene he had +witnessed between his father, Mary, and Natasha, than he had then. +He understood it completely, and, leaving the room without crying, +went silently up to Natasha who had come out with him and looked shyly +at her with his beautiful, thoughtful eyes, then his uplifted, rosy +upper lip trembled and leaning his head against her he began to cry. + +After that he avoided Dessalles and the countess who caressed him +and either sat alone or came timidly to Princess Mary, or to Natasha +of whom he seemed even fonder than of his aunt, and clung to them +quietly and shyly. + +When Princess Mary had left Prince Andrew she fully understood +what Natasha's face had told her. She did not speak any more to +Natasha of hopes of saving his life. She took turns with her beside +his sofa, and did not cry any more, but prayed continually, turning in +soul to that Eternal and Unfathomable, whose presence above the +dying man was now so evident. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Not only did Prince Andrew know he would die, but he felt that he +was dying and was already half dead. He was conscious of an +aloofness from everything earthly and a strange and joyous lightness +of existence. Without haste or agitation he awaited what was coming. +That inexorable, eternal, distant, and unknown the presence of which +he had felt continually all his life--was now near to him and, by +the strange lightness he experienced, almost comprehensible and +palpable... + + +Formerly he had feared the end. He had twice experienced that +terribly tormenting fear of death--the end--but now he no longer +understood that fear. + + He had felt it for the first time when the shell spun like a top +before him, and he looked at the fallow field, the bushes, and the +sky, and knew that he was face to face with death. When he came to +himself after being wounded and the flower of eternal, unfettered love +had instantly unfolded itself in his soul as if freed from the bondage +of life that had restrained it, he no longer feared death and ceased +to think about it. + +During the hours of solitude, suffering, and partial delirium he +spent after he was wounded, the more deeply he penetrated into the new +principle of eternal love revealed to him, the more he unconsciously +detached himself from earthly life. To love everything and everybody +and always to sacrifice oneself for love meant not to love anyone, not +to live this earthly life. And the more imbued he became with that +principle of love, the more he renounced life and the more +completely he destroyed that dreadful barrier which--in the absence of +such love--stands between life and death. When during those first days +he remembered that he would have to die, he said to himself: "Well, +what of it? So much the better!" + +But after the night in Mytishchi when, half delirious, he had seen +her for whom he longed appear before him and, having pressed her +hand to his lips, had shed gentle, happy tears, love for a +particular woman again crept unobserved into his heart and once more +bound him to life. And joyful and agitating thoughts began to occupy +his mind. Recalling the moment at the ambulance station when he had +seen Kuragin, he could not now regain the feeling he then had, but was +tormented by the question whether Kuragin was alive. And he dared +not inquire. + +His illness pursued its normal physical course, but what Natasha +referred to when she said: "This suddenly happened," had occurred +two days before Princess Mary arrived. It was the last spiritual +struggle between life and death, in which death gained the victory. It +was the unexpected realization of the fact that he still valued life +as presented to him in the form of his love for Natasha, and a last, +though ultimately vanquished, attack of terror before the unknown. + +It was evening. As usual after dinner he was slightly feverish, +and his thoughts were preternaturally clear. Sonya was sitting by +the table. He began to doze. Suddenly a feeling of happiness seized +him. + +"Ah, she has come!" thought he. + +And so it was: in Sonya's place sat Natasha who had just come in +noiselessly. + +Since she had begun looking after him, he had always experienced +this physical consciousness of her nearness. She was sitting in an +armchair placed sideways, screening the light of the candle from +him, and was knitting a stocking. She had learned to knit stockings +since Prince Andrew had casually mentioned that no one nursed the sick +so well as old nurses who knit stockings, and that there is +something soothing in the knitting of stockings. The needles clicked +lightly in her slender, rapidly moving hands, and he could clearly see +the thoughtful profile of her drooping face. She moved, and the ball +rolled off her knees. She started, glanced round at him, and screening +the candle with her hand stooped carefully with a supple and exact +movement, picked up the ball, and regained her former position. + +He looked at her without moving and saw that she wanted to draw a +deep breath after stooping, but refrained from doing so and breathed +cautiously. + +At the Troitsa monastery they had spoken of the past, and he had +told her that if he lived he would always thank God for his wound +which had brought them together again, but after that they never spoke +of the future. + +"Can it or can it not be?" he now thought as he looked at her and +listened to the light click of the steel needles. "Can fate have +brought me to her so strangely only for me to die?... Is it possible +that the truth of life has been revealed to me only to show me that +I have spent my life in falsity? I love her more than anything in +the world! But what am I to do if I love her?" he thought, and he +involuntarily groaned, from a habit acquired during his sufferings. + +On hearing that sound Natasha put down the stocking, leaned nearer +to him, and suddenly, noticing his shining eyes, stepped lightly up to +him and bent over him. + +"You are not asleep?" + +"No, I have been looking at you a long time. I felt you come in. +No one else gives me that sense of soft tranquillity that you do... +that light. I want to weep for joy." + +Natasha drew closer to him. Her face shone with rapturous joy. + +"Natasha, I love you too much! More than anything in the world." + +"And I!"--She turned away for an instant. "Why too much?" she asked. + +"Why too much?... Well, what do you, what do you feel in your +soul, your whole soul--shall I live? What do you think?" + +"I am sure of it, sure!" Natasha almost shouted, taking hold of both +his hands with a passionate movement. + +He remained silent awhile. + +"How good it would be!" and taking her hand he kissed it. + +Natasha felt happy and agitated, but at once remembered that this +would not do and that he had to be quiet. + +"But you have not slept," she said, repressing her joy. "Try to +sleep... please!" + +He pressed her hand and released it, and she went back to the candle +and sat down again in her former position. Twice she turned and looked +at him, and her eyes met his beaming at her. She set herself a task on +her stocking and resolved not to turn round till it was finished. + +Soon he really shut his eyes and fell asleep. He did not sleep +long and suddenly awoke with a start and in a cold perspiration. + +As he fell asleep he had still been thinking of the subject that now +always occupied his mind--about life and death, and chiefly about +death. He felt himself nearer to it. + +"Love? What is love?" he thought. + +"Love hinders death. Love is life. All, everything that I +understand, I understand only because I love. Everything is, +everything exists, only because I love. Everything is united by it +alone. Love is God, and to die means that I, a particle of love, shall +return to the general and eternal source." These thoughts seemed to +him comforting. But they were only thoughts. Something was lacking +in them, they were not clear, they were too one-sidedly personal and +brain-spun. And there was the former agitation and obscurity. He +fell asleep. + +He dreamed that he was lying in the room he really was in, but +that he was quite well and unwounded. Many various, indifferent, and +insignificant people appeared before him. He talked to them and +discussed something trivial. They were preparing to go away somewhere. +Prince Andrew dimly realized that all this was trivial and that he had +more important cares, but he continued to speak, surprising them by +empty witticisms. Gradually, unnoticed, all these persons began to +disappear and a single question, that of the closed door, superseded +all else. He rose and went to the door to bolt and lock it. Everything +depended on whether he was, or was not, in time to lock it. He went, +and tried to hurry, but his legs refused to move and he knew he +would not be in time to lock the door though he painfully strained all +his powers. He was seized by an agonizing fear. And that fear was +the fear of death. It stood behind the door. But just when he was +clumsily creeping toward the door, that dreadful something on the +other side was already pressing against it and forcing its way in. +Something not human--death--was breaking in through that door, and had +to be kept out. He seized the door, making a final effort to hold it +back--to lock it was no longer possible--but his efforts were weak and +clumsy and the door, pushed from behind by that terror, opened and +closed again. + +Once again it pushed from outside. His last superhuman efforts +were vain and both halves of the door noiselessly opened. It +entered, and it was death, and Prince Andrew died. + +But at the instant he died, Prince Andrew remembered that he was +asleep, and at the very instant he died, having made an effort, he +awoke. + +"Yes, it was death! I died--and woke up. Yes, death is an +awakening!" And all at once it grew light in his soul and the veil +that had till then concealed the unknown was lifted from his spiritual +vision. He felt as if powers till then confined within him had been +liberated, and that strange lightness did not again leave him. + +When, waking in a cold perspiration, he moved on the divan, +Natasha went up and asked him what was the matter. He did not answer +and looked at her strangely, not understanding. + +That was what had happened to him two days before Princess Mary's +arrival. From that day, as the doctor expressed it, the wasting +fever assumed a malignant character, but what the doctor said did +not interest Natasha, she saw the terrible moral symptoms which to her +were more convincing. + +From that day an awakening from life came to Prince Andrew +together with his awakening from sleep. And compared to the duration +of life it did not seem to him slower than an awakening from sleep +compared to the duration of a dream. + +There was nothing terrible or violent in this comparatively slow +awakening. + +His last days and hours passed in an ordinary and simple way. Both +Princess Mary and Natasha, who did not leave him, felt this. They +did not weep or shudder and during these last days they themselves +felt that they were not attending on him (he was no longer there, he +had left them) but on what reminded them most closely of him--his +body. Both felt this so strongly that the outward and terrible side of +death did not affect them and they did not feel it necessary to foment +their grief. Neither in his presence nor out of it did they weep, +nor did they ever talk to one another about him. They felt that they +could not express in words what they understood. + +They both saw that he was sinking slowly and quietly, deeper and +deeper, away from them, and they both knew that this had to be so +and that it was right. + +He confessed, and received communion: everyone came to take leave of +him. When they brought his son to him, he pressed his lips to the +boy's and turned away, not because he felt it hard and sad (Princess +Mary and Natasha understood that) but simply because he thought it was +all that was required of him, but when they told him to bless the boy, +he did what was demanded and looked round as if asking whether there +was anything else he should do. + +When the last convulsions of the body, which the spirit was leaving, +occurred, Princess Mary and Natasha were present. + +"Is it over?" said Princess Mary when his body had for a few minutes +lain motionless, growing cold before them. Natasha went up, looked +at the dead eyes, and hastened to close them. She closed them but +did not kiss them, but clung to that which reminded her most nearly of +him--his body. + +"Where has he gone? Where is he now?..." + +When the body, washed and dressed, lay in the coffin on a table, +everyone came to take leave of him and they all wept. + +Little Nicholas cried because his heart was rent by painful +perplexity. The countess and Sonya cried from pity for Natasha and +because he was no more. The old count cried because he felt that +before long, he, too, must take the same terrible step. + +Natasha and Princess Mary also wept now, but not because of their +own personal grief; they wept with a reverent and softening emotion +which had taken possession of their souls at the consciousness of +the simple and solemn mystery of death that had been accomplished in +their presence. + + + + + +BOOK THIRTEEN: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Man's mind cannot grasp the causes of events in their completeness, +but the desire to find those causes is implanted in man's soul. And +without considering the multiplicity and complexity of the conditions +any one of which taken separately may seem to be the cause, he +snatches at the first approximation to a cause that seems to him +intelligible and says: "This is the cause!" In historical events +(where the actions of men are the subject of observation) the first +and most primitive approximation to present itself was the will of the +gods and, after that, the will of those who stood in the most +prominent position--the heroes of history. But we need only penetrate +to the essence of any historic event--which lies in the activity of +the general mass of men who take part in it--to be convinced that the +will of the historic hero does not control the actions of the mass but +is itself continually controlled. It may seem to be a matter of +indifference whether we understand the meaning of historical events +this way or that; yet there is the same difference between a man who +says that the people of the West moved on the East because Napoleon +wished it and a man who says that this happened because it had to +happen, as there is between those who declared that the earth was +stationary and that the planets moved round it and those who admitted +that they did not know what upheld the earth, but knew there were laws +directing its movement and that of the other planets. There is, and +can be, no cause of an historical event except the one cause of all +causes. But there are laws directing events, and some of these laws +are known to us while we are conscious of others we cannot comprehend. +The discovery of these laws is only possible when we have quite +abandoned the attempt to find the cause in the will of some one man, +just as the discovery of the laws of the motion of the planets was +possible only when men abandoned the conception of the fixity of the +earth. + +The historians consider that, next to the battle of Borodino and the +occupation of Moscow by the enemy and its destruction by fire, the +most important episode of the war of 1812 was the movement of the +Russian army from the Ryazana to the Kaluga road and to the Tarutino +camp--the so-called flank march across the Krasnaya Pakhra River. They +ascribe the glory of that achievement of genius to different men and +dispute as to whom the honor is due. Even foreign historians, +including the French, acknowledge the genius of the Russian commanders +when they speak of that flank march. But it is hard to understand +why military writers, and following them others, consider this flank +march to be the profound conception of some one man who saved Russia +and destroyed Napoleon. In the first place it is hard to understand +where the profundity and genius of this movement lay, for not much +mental effort was needed to see that the best position for an army +when it is not being attacked is where there are most provisions; +and even a dull boy of thirteen could have guessed that the best +position for an army after its retreat from Moscow in 1812 was on +the Kaluga road. So it is impossible to understand by what reasoning +the historians reach the conclusion that this maneuver was a +profound one. And it is even more difficult to understand just why +they think that this maneuver was calculated to save Russia and +destroy the French; for this flank march, had it been preceded, +accompanied, or followed by other circumstances, might have proved +ruinous to the Russians and salutary for the French. If the position +of the Russian army really began to improve from the time of that +march, it does not at all follow that the march was the cause of it. + +That flank march might not only have failed to give any advantage to +the Russian army, but might in other circumstances have led to its +destruction. What would have happened had Moscow not burned down? If +Murat had not lost sight of the Russians? If Napoleon had not remained +inactive? If the Russian army at Krasnaya Pakhra had given battle as +Bennigsen and Barclay advised? What would have happened had the French +attacked the Russians while they were marching beyond the Pakhra? What +would have happened if on approaching Tarutino, Napoleon had +attacked the Russians with but a tenth of the energy he had shown when +he attacked them at Smolensk? What would have happened had the +French moved on Petersburg?... In any of these eventualities the flank +march that brought salvation might have proved disastrous. + +The third and most incomprehensible thing is that people studying +history deliberately avoid seeing that this flank march cannot be +attributed to any one man, that no one ever foresaw it, and that in +reality, like the retreat from Fili, it did not suggest itself to +anyone in its entirety, but resulted--moment by moment, step by +step, event by event--from an endless number of most diverse +circumstances and was only seen in its entirety when it had been +accomplished and belonged to the past. + +At the council at Fili the prevailing thought in the minds of the +Russian commanders was the one naturally suggesting itself, namely, +a direct retreat by the Nizhni road. In proof of this there is the +fact that the majority of the council voted for such a retreat, and +above all there is the well-known conversation after the council, +between the commander in chief and Lanskoy, who was in charge of the +commissariat department. Lanskoy informed the commander in chief +that the army supplies were for the most part stored along the Oka +in the Tula and Ryazan provinces, and that if they retreated on Nizhni +the army would be separated from its supplies by the broad river +Oka, which cannot be crossed early in winter. This was the first +indication of the necessity of deviating from what had previously +seemed the most natural course--a direct retreat on Nizhni-Novgorod. +The army turned more to the south, along the Ryazan road and nearer to +its supplies. Subsequently the inactivity of the French (who even +lost sight of the Russian army), concern for the safety of the arsenal +at Tula, and especially the advantages of drawing nearer to its +supplies caused the army to turn still further south to the Tula road. +Having crossed over, by a forced march, to the Tula road beyond the +Pakhra, the Russian commanders intended to remain at Podolsk and had +no thought of the Tarutino position; but innumerable circumstances and +the reappearance of French troops who had for a time lost touch with +the Russians, and projects of giving battle, and above all the +abundance of provisions in Kaluga province, obliged our army to turn +still more to the south and to cross from the Tula to the Kaluga +road and go to Tarutino, which was between the roads along which those +supplies lay. Just as it is impossible to say when it was decided to +abandon Moscow, so it is impossible to say precisely when, or by whom, +it was decided to move to Tarutino. Only when the army had got +there, as the result of innumerable and varying forces, did people +begin to assure themselves that they had desired this movement and +long ago foreseen its result. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The famous flank movement merely consisted in this: after the +advance of the French had ceased, the Russian army, which had been +continually retreating straight back from the invaders, deviated +from that direct course and, not finding itself pursued, was naturally +drawn toward the district where supplies were abundant. + +If instead of imagining to ourselves commanders of genius leading +the Russian army, we picture that army without any leaders, it could +not have done anything but make a return movement toward Moscow, +describing an arc in the direction where most provisions were to be +found and where the country was richest. + +That movement from the Nizhni to the Ryazan, Tula, and Kaluga +roads was so natural that even the Russian marauders moved in that +direction, and demands were sent from Petersburg for Kutuzov to take +his army that way. At Tarutino Kutuzov received what was almost a +reprimand from the Emperor for having moved his army along the +Ryazan road, and the Emperor's letter indicated to him the very +position he had already occupied near Kaluga. + +Having rolled like a ball in the direction of the impetus given by the +whole campaign and by the battle of Borodino, the Russian army--when +the strength of that impetus was exhausted and no fresh push was +received--assumed the position natural to it. + +Kutuzov's merit lay, not in any strategic maneuver of genius, as +it is called, but in the fact that he alone understood the +significance of what had happened. He alone then understood the +meaning of the French army's inactivity, he alone continued to +assert that the battle of Borodino had been a victory, he alone--who +as commander in chief might have been expected to be eager to +attack--employed his whole strength to restrain the Russian army +from useless engagements. + +The beast wounded at Borodino was lying where the fleeing hunter had +left him; but whether he was still alive, whether he was strong and +merely lying low, the hunter did not know. Suddenly the beast was +heard to moan. + +The moan of that wounded beast (the French army) which betrayed +its calamitous condition was the sending of Lauriston to Kutuzov's +camp with overtures for peace. + +Napoleon, with his usual assurance that whatever entered his head +was right, wrote to Kutuzov the first words that occurred to him, +though they were meaningless. + + +MONSIEUR LE PRINCE KOUTOUZOV: I am sending one of my +adjutants-general to discuss several interesting questions with you. I +beg your Highness to credit what he says to you, especially when he +expresses the sentiment of esteem and special regard I have long +entertained for your person. This letter having no other object, I +pray God, monsieur le Prince Koutouzov, to keep you in His holy and +gracious protection! + +NAPOLEON + +MOSCOW, OCTOBER 30, 1812 + + +Kutuzov replied: "I should be cursed by posterity were I looked on +as the initiator of a settlement of any sort. Such is the present +spirit of my nation." But he continued to exert all his powers to +restrain his troops from attacking. + +During the month that the French troops were pillaging in Moscow and +the Russian troops were quietly encamped at Tarutino, a change had +taken place in the relative strength of the two armies--both in spirit +and in number--as a result of which the superiority had passed to +the Russian side. Though the condition and numbers of the French +army were unknown to the Russians, as soon as that change occurred the +need of attacking at once showed itself by countless signs. These +signs were: Lauriston's mission; the abundance of provisions at +Tarutino; the reports coming in from all sides of the inactivity and +disorder of the French; the flow of recruits to our regiments; the +fine weather; the long rest the Russian soldiers had enjoyed, and +the impatience to do what they had been assembled for, which usually +shows itself in an army that has been resting; curiosity as to what +the French army, so long lost sight of, was doing; the boldness with +which our outposts now scouted close up to the French stationed at +Tarutino; the news of easy successes gained by peasants and +guerrilla troops over the French, the envy aroused by this; the desire +for revenge that lay in the heart of every Russian as long as the +French were in Moscow, and (above all) a dim consciousness in every +soldier's mind that the relative strength of the armies had changed +and that the advantage was now on our side. There was a substantial +change in the relative strength, and an advance had become inevitable. +And at once, as a clock begins to strike and chime as soon as the +minute hand has completed a full circle, this change was shown by an +increased activity, whirring, and chiming in the higher spheres. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The Russian army was commanded by Kutuzov and his staff, and also by +the Emperor from Petersburg. Before the news of the abandonment of +Moscow had been received in Petersburg, a detailed plan of the whole +campaign had been drawn up and sent to Kutuzov for his guidance. +Though this plan had been drawn up on the supposition that Moscow +was still in our hands, it was approved by the staff and accepted as a +basis for action. Kutuzov only replied that movements arranged from +a distance were always difficult to execute. So fresh instructions +were sent for the solution of difficulties that might be +encountered, as well as fresh people who were to watch Kutuzov's +actions and report upon them. + +Besides this, the whole staff of the Russian army was now +reorganized. The posts left vacant by Bagration, who had been +killed, and by Barclay, who had gone away in dudgeon, had to be +filled. Very serious consideration was given to the question whether +it would be better to put A in B's place and B in D's, or on the +contrary to put D in A's place, and so on--as if anything more than +A's or B's satisfaction depended on this. + +As a result of the hostility between Kutuzov and Bennigsen, his +Chief of Staff, the presence of confidential representatives of the +Emperor, and these transfers, a more than usually complicated play +of parties was going on among the staff of the army. A was undermining +B, D was undermining C, and so on in all possible combinations and +permutations. In all these plottings the subject of intrigue was +generally the conduct of the war, which all these men believed they +were directing; but this affair of the war went on independently of +them, as it had to go: that is, never in the way people devised, but +flowing always from the essential attitude of the masses. Only in +the highest spheres did all these schemes, crossings, and +interminglings appear to be a true reflection of what had to happen. + + +Prince Michael Ilarionovich! (wrote the Emperor on the second of +October in a letter that reached Kutuzov after the battle at Tarutino) +Since September 2 Moscow has been in the hands of the enemy. Your last +reports were written on the twentieth, and during all this time not +only has no action been taken against the enemy or for the relief of +the ancient capital, but according to your last report you have even +retreated farther. Serpukhov is already occupied by an enemy +detachment and Tula with its famous arsenal so indispensable to the +army, is in danger. From General Wintzingerode's reports, I see that +an enemy corps of ten thousand men is moving on the Petersburg road. +Another corps of several thousand men is moving on Dmitrov. A third +has advanced along the Vladimir road, and a fourth, rather +considerable detachment is stationed between Ruza and Mozhaysk. +Napoleon himself was in Moscow as late as the twenty-fifth. In view of +all this information, when the enemy has scattered his forces in large +detachments, and with Napoleon and his Guards in Moscow, is it +possible that the enemy's forces confronting you are so considerable +as not to allow of your taking the offensive? On the contrary, he is +probably pursuing you with detachments, or at most with an army +corps much weaker than the army entrusted to you. It would seem +that, availing yourself of these circumstances, you might +advantageously attack a weaker one and annihilate him, or at least +oblige him to retreat, retaining in our hands an important part of the +provinces now occupied by the enemy, and thereby averting danger +from Tula and other towns in the interior. You will be responsible +if the enemy is able to direct a force of any size against +Petersburg to threaten this capital in which it has not been +possible to retain many troops; for with the army entrusted to you, +and acting with resolution and energy, you have ample means to avert +this fresh calamity. Remember that you have still to answer to our +offended country for the loss of Moscow. You have experienced my +readiness to reward you. That readiness will not weaken in me, but I +and Russia have a right to expect from you all the zeal, firmness, and +success which your intellect, military talent, and the courage of +the troops you command justify us in expecting. + + +But by the time this letter, which proved that the real relation +of the forces had already made itself felt in Petersburg, was +dispatched, Kutuzov had found himself unable any longer to restrain +the army he commanded from attacking and a battle had taken place. + +On the second of October a Cossack, Shapovalov, who was out +scouting, killed one hare and wounded another. Following the wounded +hare he made his way far into the forest and came upon the left +flank of Murat's army, encamped there without any precautions. The +Cossack laughingly told his comrades how he had almost fallen into the +hands of the French. A cornet, hearing the story, informed his +commander. + +The Cossack was sent for and questioned. The Cossack officers wished +to take advantage of this chance to capture some horses, but one of +the superior officers, who was acquainted with the higher authorities, +reported the incident to a general on the staff. The state of +things on the staff had of late been exceedingly strained. Ermolov had +been to see Bennigsen a few days previously and had entreated him to +use his influence with the commander in chief to induce him to take +the offensive. + +"If I did not know you I should think you did not want what you +are asking for. I need only advise anything and his Highness is sure +to do the opposite," replied Bennigsen. + +The Cossack's report, confirmed by horse patrols who were sent +out, was the final proof that events had matured. The tightly coiled +spring was released, the clock began to whirr and the chimes to +play. Despite all his supposed power, his intellect, his experience, +and his knowledge of men, Kutuzov--having taken into consideration the +Cossack's report, a note from Bennigsen who sent personal reports to +the Emperor, the wishes he supposed the Emperor to hold, and the +fact that all the generals expressed the same wish--could no longer +check the inevitable movement, and gave the order to do what he +regarded as useless and harmful--gave his approval, that is, to the +accomplished fact. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Bennigsen's note and the Cossack's information that the left flank +of the French was unguarded were merely final indications that it +was necessary to order an attack, and it was fixed for the fifth of +October. + +On the morning of the fourth of October Kutuzov signed the +dispositions. Toll read them to Ermolov, asking him to attend to the +further arrangements. + +"All right--all right. I haven't time just now," replied Ermolov, +and left the hut. + +The dispositions drawn up by Toll were very good. As in the +Austerlitz dispositions, it was written--though not in German this +time: + +"The First Column will march here and here," "the Second Column will +march there and there," and so on; and on paper, all these columns +arrived at their places at the appointed time and destroyed the enemy. +Everything had been admirably thought out as is usual in dispositions, +and as is always the case, not a single column reached its place at +the appointed time. + +When the necessary number of copies of the dispositions had been +prepared, an officer was summoned and sent to deliver them to +Ermolov to deal with. A young officer of the Horse Guards, Kutuzov's +orderly, pleased at the importance of the mission entrusted to him, +went to Ermolov's quarters. + +"Gone away," said Ermolov's orderly. + +The officer of the Horse Guards went to a general with whom +Ermolov was often to be found. + +"No, and the general's out too." + +The officer, mounting his horse, rode off to someone else. + +"No, he's gone out." + +"If only they don't make me responsible for this delay! What a +nuisance it is!" thought the officer, and he rode round the whole +camp. One man said he had seen Ermolov ride past with some other +generals, others said he must have returned home. The officer searched +till six o'clock in the evening without even stopping to eat. +Ermolov was nowhere to be found and no one knew where he was. The +officer snatched a little food at a comrade's, and rode again to the +vanguard to find Miloradovich. Miloradovich too was away, but here +he was told that he had gone to a ball at General Kikin's and that +Ermolov was probably there too. + +"But where is it?" + +"Why, there, over at Echkino," said a Cossack officer, pointing to a +country house in the far distance. + +"What, outside our line?" + +"They've put two regiments as outposts, and they're having such a +spree there, it's awful! Two bands and three sets of singers!" + +The officer rode out beyond our lines to Echkino. While still at a +distance he heard as he rode the merry sounds of a soldier's dance +song proceeding from the house. + +"In the meadows... in the meadows!" he heard, accompanied by +whistling and the sound of a torban, drowned every now and then by +shouts. These sounds made his spirits rise, but at the same time he +was afraid that he would be blamed for not having executed sooner +the important order entrusted to him. It was already past eight +o'clock. He dismounted and went up into the porch of a large country +house which had remained intact between the Russian and French forces. +In the refreshment room and the hall, footmen were bustling about with +wine and viands. Groups of singers stood outside the windows. The +officer was admitted and immediately saw all the chief generals of the +army together, and among them Ermolov's big imposing figure. They +all had their coats unbuttoned and were standing in a semicircle +with flushed and animated faces, laughing loudly. In the middle of the +room a short handsome general with a red face was dancing the trepak +with much spirit and agility. + +"Ha, ha, ha! Bravo, Nicholas Ivanych! Ha, ha, ha!" + +The officer felt that by arriving with important orders at such a +moment he was doubly to blame, and he would have preferred to wait; +but one of the generals espied him and, hearing what he had come +about, informed Ermolov. + +Ermolov came forward with a frown on his face and, hearing what +the officer had to say, took the papers from him without a word. + + +"You think he went off just by chance?" said a comrade, who was on +the staff that evening, to the officer of the Horse Guards, +referring to Ermolov. "It was a trick. It was done on purpose to get +Konovnitsyn into trouble. You'll see what a mess there'll be +tomorrow." + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Next day the decrepit Kutuzov, having given orders to be called +early, said his prayers, dressed, and, with an unpleasant +consciousness of having to direct a battle he did not approve of, +got into his caleche and drove from Letashovka (a village three and +a half miles from Tarutino) to the place where the attacking columns +were to meet. He sat in the caleche, dozing and waking up by turns, +and listening for any sound of firing on the right as an indication +that the action had begun. But all was still quiet. A damp dull autumn +morning was just dawning. On approaching Tarutino Kutuzov noticed +cavalrymen leading their horses to water across the road along which +he was driving. Kutuzov looked at them searchingly, stopped his +carriage, and inquired what regiment they belonged to. They belonged +to a column that should have been far in front and in ambush long +before then. "It may be a mistake," thought the old commander in +chief. But a little further on he saw infantry regiments with their +arms piled and the soldiers, only partly dressed, eating their rye +porridge and carrying fuel. He sent for an officer. The officer +reported that no order to advance had been received. + +"How! Not rec..." Kutuzov began, but checked himself immediately and +sent for a senior officer. Getting out of his caleche, he waited +with drooping head and breathing heavily, pacing silently up and down. +When Eykhen, the officer of the general staff whom he had summoned, +appeared, Kutuzov went purple in the face, not because that officer +was to blame for the mistake, but because he was an object of +sufficient importance for him to vent his wrath on. Trembling and +panting the old man fell into that state of fury in which he sometimes +used to roll on the ground, and he fell upon Eykhen, threatening him +with his hands, shouting and loading him with gross abuse. Another +man, Captain Brozin, who happened to turn up and who was not at all to +blame, suffered the same fate. + +"What sort of another blackguard are you? I'll have you shot! +Scoundrels!" yelled Kutuzov in a hoarse voice, waving his arms and +reeling. + +He was suffering physically. He, the commander in chief, a Serene +Highness who everybody said possessed powers such as no man had ever +had in Russia, to be placed in this position--made the laughingstock +of the whole army! "I needn't have been in such a hurry to pray +about today, or have kept awake thinking everything over all night," +thought he to himself. "When I was a chit of an officer no one would +have dared to mock me so... and now!" He was in a state of physical +suffering as if from corporal punishment, and could not avoid +expressing it by cries of anger and distress. But his strength soon +began to fail him, and looking about him, conscious of having said +much that was amiss, he again got into his caleche and drove back in +silence. + +His wrath, once expended, did not return, and blinking feebly he +listened to excuses and self-justifications (Ermolov did not come to +see him till the next day) and to the insistence of Bennigsen, +Konovnitsyn, and Toll that the movement that had miscarried should +be executed next day. And once more Kutuzov had to consent. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Next day the troops assembled in their appointed places in the +evening and advanced during the night. It was an autumn night with +dark purple clouds, but no rain. The ground was damp but not muddy, +and the troops advanced noiselessly, only occasionally a jingling of +the artillery could be faintly heard. The men were forbidden to talk +out loud, to smoke their pipes, or to strike a light, and they tried +to prevent their horses neighing. The secrecy of the undertaking +heightened its charm and they marched gaily. Some columns, +supposing they had reached their destination, halted, piled arms, and +settled down on the cold ground, but the majority marched all night +and arrived at places where they evidently should not have been. + +Only Count Orlov-Denisov with his Cossacks (the least important +detachment of all) got to his appointed place at the right time. +This detachment halted at the outskirts of a forest, on the path +leading from the village of Stromilova to Dmitrovsk. + +Toward dawn, Count Orlov-Denisov, who had dozed off, was awakened by +a deserter from the French army being brought to him. This was a +Polish sergeant of Poniatowski's corps, who explained in Polish that +he had come over because he had been slighted in the service: that +he ought long ago to have been made an officer, that he was braver +than any of them, and so he had left them and wished to pay them +out. He said that Murat was spending the night less than a mile from +where they were, and that if they would let him have a convoy of a +hundred men he would capture him alive. Count Orlov-Denisov +consulted his fellow officers. + +The offer was too tempting to be refused. Everyone volunteered to go +and everybody advised making the attempt. After much disputing and +arguing, Major-General Grekov with two Cossack regiments decided to go +with the Polish sergeant. + +"Now, remember," said Count Orlov-Denisov to the sergeant at +parting, "if you have been lying I'll have you hanged like a dog; +but if it's true you shall have a hundred gold pieces!" + +Without replying, the sergeant, with a resolute air, mounted and +rode away with Grekov whose men had quickly assembled. They +disappeared into the forest, and Count Orlov-Denisov, having seen +Grekov off, returned, shivering from the freshness of the early dawn +and excited by what he had undertaken on his own responsibility, and +began looking at the enemy camp, now just visible in the deceptive +light of dawn and the dying campfires. Our columns ought to have begun +to appear on an open declivity to his right. He looked in that +direction, but though the columns would have been visible quite far +off, they were not to be seen. It seemed to the count that things were +beginning to stir in the French camp, and his keen-sighted adjutant +confirmed this. + +"Oh, it is really too late," said Count Orlov, looking at the camp. + +As often happens when someone we have trusted is no longer before +our eyes, it suddenly seemed quite clear and obvious to him that the +sergeant was an impostor, that he had lied, and that the whole Russian +attack would be ruined by the absence of those two regiments, which he +would lead away heaven only knew where. How could one capture a +commander in chief from among such a mass of troops! + +"I am sure that rascal was lying," said the count. + +"They can still be called back," said one of his suite, who like +Count Orlov felt distrustful of the adventure when he looked at the +enemy's camp. + +"Eh? Really... what do you think? Should we let them go on or not?" + +"Will you have them fetched back?" + +"Fetch them back, fetch them back!" said Count Orlov with sudden +determination, looking at his watch. "It will be too late. It is quite +light." + +And the adjutant galloped through the forest after Grekov. When +Grekov returned, Count Orlov-Denisov, excited both by the abandoned +attempt and by vainly awaiting the infantry columns that still did not +appear, as well as by the proximity of the enemy, resolved to advance. +All his men felt the same excitement. + +"Mount!" he commanded in a whisper. The men took their places and +crossed themselves.... "Forward, with God's aid!" + +"Hurrah-ah-ah!" reverberated in the forest, and the Cossack +companies, trailing their lances and advancing one after another as if +poured out of a sack, dashed gaily across the brook toward the camp. + +One desperate, frightened yell from the first French soldier who saw +the Cossacks, and all who were in the camp, undressed and only just +waking up, ran off in all directions, abandoning cannons, muskets, and +horses. + +Had the Cossacks pursued the French, without heeding what was behind +and around them, they would have captured Murat and everything there. +That was what the officers desired. But it was impossible to make the +Cossacks budge when once they had got booty and prisoners. None of +them listened to orders. Fifteen hundred prisoners and thirty-eight +guns were taken on the spot, besides standards and (what seemed most +important to the Cossacks) horses, saddles, horsecloths, and the like. +All this had to be dealt with, the prisoners and guns secured, the +booty divided--not without some shouting and even a little fighting +among themselves--and it was on this that the Cossacks all busied +themselves. + +The French, not being farther pursued, began to recover +themselves: they formed into detachments and began firing. +Orlov-Denisov, still waiting for the other columns to arrive, advanced +no further. + +Meantime, according to the dispositions which said that "the First +Column will march" and so on, the infantry of the belated columns, +commanded by Bennigsen and directed by Toll, had started in due +order and, as always happens, had got somewhere, but not to their +appointed places. As always happens the men, starting cheerfully, +began to halt; murmurs were heard, there was a sense of confusion, and +finally a backward movement. Adjutants and generals galloped about, +shouted, grew angry, quarreled, said they had come quite wrong and +were late, gave vent to a little abuse, and at last gave it all up and +went forward, simply to get somewhere. "We shall get somewhere or +other!" And they did indeed get somewhere, though not to their right +places; a few eventually even got to their right place, but too late +to be of any use and only in time to be fired at. Toll, who in this +battle played the part of Weyrother at Austerlitz, galloped +assiduously from place to place, finding everything upside down +everywhere. Thus he stumbled on Bagovut's corps in a wood when it +was already broad daylight, though the corps should long before have +joined Orlov-Denisov. Excited and vexed by the failure and supposing +that someone must be responsible for it, Toll galloped up to the +commander of the corps and began upbraiding him severely, saying +that he ought to be shot. General Bagovut, a fighting old soldier of +placid temperament, being also upset by all the delay, confusion, +and cross-purposes, fell into a rage to everybody's surprise and quite +contrary to his usual character and said disagreeable things to Toll. + +"I prefer not to take lessons from anyone, but I can die with my men +as well as anybody," he said, and advanced with a single division. + +Coming out onto a field under the enemy's fire, this brave general +went straight ahead, leading his men under fire, without considering +in his agitation whether going into action now, with a single +division, would be of any use or no. Danger, cannon balls, and bullets +were just what he needed in his angry mood. One of the first bullets +killed him, and other bullets killed many of his men. And his division +remained under fire for some time quite uselessly. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Meanwhile another column was to have attacked the French from the +front, but Kutuzov accompanied that column. He well knew that +nothing but confusion would come of this battle undertaken against his +will, and as far as was in his power held the troops back. He did +not advance. + +He rode silently on his small gray horse, indolently answering +suggestions that they should attack. + +"The word attack is always on your tongue, but you don't see that we +are unable to execute complicated maneuvers," said he to +Miloradovich who asked permission to advance. + +"We couldn't take Murat prisoner this morning or get to the place in +time, and nothing can be done now!" he replied to someone else. + +When Kutuzov was informed that at the French rear--where according +to the reports of the Cossacks there had previously been nobody--there +were now two battalions of Poles, he gave a sidelong glance at Ermolov +who was behind him and to whom he had not spoken since the previous +day. + +"You see! They are asking to attack and making plans of all kinds, +but as soon as one gets to business nothing is ready, and the enemy, +forewarned, takes measures accordingly." + +Ermolov screwed up his eyes and smiled faintly on hearing these +words. He understood that for him the storm had blown over, and that +Kutuzov would content himself with that hint. + +"He's having a little fun at my expense," said Ermolov softly, +nudging with his knee Raevski who was at his side. + +Soon after this, Ermolov moved up to Kutuzov and respectfully +remarked: + +"It is not too late yet, your Highness--the enemy has not gone +away--if you were to order an attack! If not, the Guards will not so +much as see a little smoke." + +Kutuzov did not reply, but when they reported to him that Murat's +troops were in retreat he ordered an advance, though at every +hundred paces he halted for three quarters of an hour. + +The whole battle consisted in what Orlov-Denisov's Cossacks had +done: the rest of the army merely lost some hundreds of men uselessly. + +In consequence of this battle Kutuzov received a diamond decoration, +and Bennigsen some diamonds and a hundred thousand rubles, others also +received pleasant recognitions corresponding to their various +grades, and following the battle fresh changes were made in the staff. + +"That's how everything is done with us, all topsy-turvy!" said the +Russian officers and generals after the Tarutino battle, letting it be +understood that some fool there is doing things all wrong but that +we ourselves should not have done so, just as people speak today. +But people who talk like that either do not know what they are talking +about or deliberately deceive themselves. No battle--Tarutino, +Borodino, or Austerlitz--takes place as those who planned it +anticipated. That is an essential condition. + +A countless number of free forces (for nowhere is man freer than +during a battle, where it is a question of life and death) influence +the course taken by the fight, and that course never can be known in +advance and never coincides with the direction of any one force. + +If many simultaneously and variously directed forces act on a +given body, the direction of its motion cannot coincide with any one +of those forces, but will always be a mean--what in mechanics is +represented by the diagonal of a parallelogram of forces. + +If in the descriptions given by historians, especially French +ones, we find their wars and battles carried out in accordance with +previously formed plans, the only conclusion to be drawn is that those +descriptions are false. + +The battle of Tarutino obviously did not attain the aim Toll had in +view--to lead the troops into action in the order prescribed by the +dispositions; nor that which Count Orlov-Denisov may have had in +view--to take Murat prisoner; nor the result of immediately destroying +the whole corps, which Bennigsen and others may have had in view; nor +the aim of the officer who wished to go into action to distinguish +himself; nor that of the Cossack who wanted more booty than he got, +and so on. But if the aim of the battle was what actually resulted and +what all the Russians of that day desired--to drive the French out of +Russia and destroy their army--it is quite clear that the battle of +Tarutino, just because of its incongruities, was exactly what was +wanted at that stage of the campaign. It would be difficult and even +impossible to imagine any result more opportune than the actual +outcome of this battle. With a minimum of effort and insignificant +losses, despite the greatest confusion, the most important results of +the whole campaign were attained: the transition from retreat to +advance, an exposure of the weakness of the French, and the +administration of that shock which Napoleon's army had only awaited to +begin its flight. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Napoleon enters Moscow after the brilliant victory de la Moskowa; +there can be no doubt about the victory for the battlefield remains in +the hands of the French. The Russians retreat and abandon their +ancient capital. Moscow, abounding in provisions, arms, munitions, and +incalculable wealth, is in Napoleon's hands. The Russian army, only +half the strength of the French, does not make a single attempt to +attack for a whole month. Napoleon's position is most brilliant. He +can either fall on the Russian army with double its strength and +destroy it; negotiate an advantageous peace, or in case of a refusal +make a menacing move on Petersburg, or even, in the case of a reverse, +return to Smolensk or Vilna; or remain in Moscow; in short, no special +genius would seem to be required to retain the brilliant position +the French held at that time. For that, only very simple and easy +steps were necessary: not to allow the troops to loot, to prepare +winter clothing--of which there was sufficient in Moscow for the whole +army--and methodically to collect the provisions, of which +(according to the French historians) there were enough in Moscow to +supply the whole army for six months. Yet Napoleon, that greatest of +all geniuses, who the historians declare had control of the army, took +none of these steps. + +He not merely did nothing of the kind, but on the contrary he used +his power to select the most foolish and ruinous of all the courses +open to him. Of all that Napoleon might have done: wintering in +Moscow, advancing on Petersburg or on Nizhni-Novgorod, or retiring +by a more northerly or more southerly route (say by the road Kutuzov +afterwards took), nothing more stupid or disastrous can be imagined +than what he actually did. He remained in Moscow till October, letting +the troops plunder the city; then, hesitating whether to leave a +garrison behind him, he quitted Moscow, approached Kutuzov without +joining battle, turned to the right and reached Malo-Yaroslavets, +again without attempting to break through and take the road Kutuzov +took, but retiring instead to Mozhaysk along the devastated Smolensk +road. Nothing more stupid than that could have been devised, or more +disastrous for the army, as the sequel showed. Had Napoleon's aim been +to destroy his army, the most skillful strategist could hardly have +devised any series of actions that would so completely have +accomplished that purpose, independently of anything the Russian +army might do. + +Napoleon, the man of genius, did this! But to say that he +destroyed his army because he wished to, or because he was very +stupid, would be as unjust as to say that he had brought his troops to +Moscow because he wished to and because he was very clever and a +genius. + +In both cases his personal activity, having no more force than the +personal activity of any soldier, merely coincided with the laws +that guided the event. + +The historians quite falsely represent Napoleon's faculties as +having weakened in Moscow, and do so only because the results did +not justify his actions. He employed all his ability and strength to +do the best he could for himself and his army, as he had done +previously and as he did subsequently in 1813. His activity at that +time was no less astounding than it was in Egypt, in Italy, in +Austria, and in Prussia. We do not know for certain in how far his +genius was genuine in Egypt--where forty centuries looked down upon +his grandeur--for his great exploits there are all told us by +Frenchmen. We cannot accurately estimate his genius in Austria or +Prussia, for we have to draw our information from French or German +sources, and the incomprehensible surrender of whole corps without +fighting and of fortresses without a siege must incline Germans to +recognize his genius as the only explanation of the war carried on +in Germany. But we, thank God, have no need to recognize his genius in +order to hide our shame. We have paid for the right to look at the +matter plainly and simply, and we will not abandon that right. + +His activity in Moscow was as amazing and as full of genius as +elsewhere. Order after order and plan after plan were issued +by him from the time he entered Moscow till the time he left it. The +absence of citizens and of a deputation, and even the burning of +Moscow, did not disconcert him. He did not lose sight either of the +welfare of his army or of the doings of the enemy, or of the welfare +of the people of Russia, or of the direction of affairs in Paris, or +of diplomatic considerations concerning the terms of the anticipated +peace. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +With regard to military matters, Napoleon immediately on his entry +into Moscow gave General Sabastiani strict orders to observe the +movements of the Russian army, sent army corps out along the different +roads, and charged Murat to find Kutuzov. Then he gave careful +directions about the fortification of the Kremlin, and drew up a +brilliant plan for a future campaign over the whole map of Russia. + +With regard to diplomatic questions, Napoleon summoned Captain +Yakovlev, who had been robbed and was in rags and did not know how +to get out of Moscow, minutely explained to him his whole policy and +his magnanimity, and having written a letter to the Emperor +Alexander in which he considered it his duty to inform his Friend +and Brother that Rostopchin had managed affairs badly in Moscow, he +dispatched Yakovlev to Petersburg. + +Having similarly explained his views and his magnanimity to +Tutolmin, he dispatched that old man also to Petersburg to negotiate. + +With regard to legal matters, immediately after the fires he gave +orders to find and execute the incendiaries. And the scoundrel +Rostopchin was punished by an order to burn down his houses. + +With regard to administrative matters, Moscow was granted a +constitution. A municipality was established and the following +announcement issued: + + +INHABITANTS OF MOSCOW! + +Your misfortunes are cruel, but His Majesty the Emperor and King +desires to arrest their course. Terrible examples have taught you +how he punishes disobedience and crime. Strict measures have been +taken to put an end to disorder and to re-establish public security. A +paternal administration, chosen from among yourselves, will form +your municipality or city government. It will take care of you, of +your needs, and of your welfare. Its members will be distinguished +by a red ribbon worn across the shoulder, and the mayor of the city +will wear a white belt as well. But when not on duty they will only +wear a red ribbon round the left arm. + +The city police is established on its former footing, and better +order already prevails in consequence of its activity. The +government has appointed two commissaries general, or chiefs of +police, and twenty commissaries or captains of wards have been +appointed to the different wards of the city. You will recognize +them by the white ribbon they will wear on the left arm. Several +churches of different denominations are open, and divine service is +performed in them unhindered. Your fellow citizens are returning every +day to their homes and orders have been given that they should find +in them the help and protection due to their misfortunes. These are +the measures the government has adopted to re-establish order and +relieve your condition. But to achieve this aim it is necessary that +you should add your efforts and should, if possible, forget the +misfortunes you have suffered, should entertain the hope of a less +cruel fate, should be certain that inevitable and ignominious death +awaits those who make any attempt on your persons or on what remains +of your property, and finally that you should not doubt that these +will be safeguarded, since such is the will of the greatest and most +just of monarchs. Soldiers and citizens, of whatever nation you may +be, re-establish public confidence, the source of the welfare of a +state, live like brothers, render mutual aid and protection one to +another, unite to defeat the intentions of the evil-minded, obey the +military and civil authorities, and your tears will soon cease to +flow! + + +With regard to supplies for the army, Napoleon decreed that all +the troops in turn should enter Moscow a la maraude* to obtain +provisions for themselves, so that the army might have its future +provided for. + + +*As looters. + + +With regard to religion, Napoleon ordered the priests to be +brought back and services to be again performed in the churches. + +With regard to commerce and to provisioning the army, the +following was placarded everywhere: + + +PROCLAMATION! + +You, peaceful inhabitants of Moscow, artisans and workmen whom +misfortune has driven from the city, and you scattered tillers of +the soil, still kept out in the fields by groundless fear, listen! +Tranquillity is returning to this capital and order is being +restored in it. Your fellow countrymen are emerging boldly from +their hiding places on finding that they are respected. Any violence +to them or to their property is promptly punished. His Majesty the +Emperor and King protects them, and considers no one among you his +enemy except those who disobey his orders. He desires to end your +misfortunes and restore you to your homes and families. Respond, +therefore, to his benevolent intentions and come to us without fear. +Inhabitants, return with confidence to your abodes! You will soon find +means of satisfying your needs. Craftsmen and industrious artisans, +return to your work, your houses, your shops, where the protection +of guards awaits you! You shall receive proper pay for your work. +And lastly you too, peasants, come from the forests where you are +hiding in terror, return to your huts without fear, in full +assurance that you will find protection! Markets are established in +the city where peasants can bring their surplus supplies and the +products of the soil. The government has taken the following steps +to ensure freedom of sale for them: (1) From today, peasants, +husbandmen, and those living in the neighborhood of Moscow may without +any danger bring their supplies of all kinds to two appointed markets, +of which one is on the Mokhovaya Street and the other at the Provision +Market. (2) Such supplies will be bought from them at such prices as +seller and buyer may agree on, and if a seller is unable to obtain a +fair price he will be free to take his goods back to his village and +no one may hinder him under any pretense. (3) Sunday and Wednesday +of each week are appointed as the chief market days and to that end +a sufficient number of troops will be stationed along the highroads on +Tuesdays and Saturdays at such distances from the town as to protect +the carts. (4) Similar measures will be taken that peasants with their +carts and horses may meet with no hindrance on their return journey. +(5) Steps will immediately be taken to re-establish ordinary trading. + +Inhabitants of the city and villages, and you, workingmen and +artisans, to whatever nation you belong, you are called on to carry +out the paternal intentions of His Majesty the Emperor and King and to +co-operate with him for the public welfare! Lay your respect and +confidence at his feet and do not delay to unite with us! + + +With the object of raising the spirits of the troops and of the +people, reviews were constantly held and rewards distributed. The +Emperor rode through the streets to comfort the inhabitants, and, +despite his preoccupation with state affairs, himself visited the +theaters that were established by his order. + +In regard to philanthropy, the greatest virtue of crowned heads, +Napoleon also did all in his power. He caused the words Maison de ma +Mere to be inscribed on the charitable institutions, thereby combining +tender filial affection with the majestic benevolence of a monarch. He +visited the Foundling Hospital and, allowing the orphans saved by +him to kiss his white hands, graciously conversed with Tutolmin. Then, +as Thiers eloquently recounts, he ordered his soldiers to be paid in +forged Russian money which he had prepared: "Raising the use of +these means by an act worthy of himself and of the French army, he let +relief be distributed to those who had been burned out. But as food +was too precious to be given to foreigners, who were for the most part +enemies, Napoleon preferred to supply them with money with which to +purchase food from outside, and had paper rubles distributed to them." + +With reference to army discipline, orders were continually being +issued to inflict severe punishment for the nonperformance of military +duties and to suppress robbery. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +But strange to say, all these measures, efforts, and plans--which +were not at all worse than others issued in similar circumstances--did +not affect the essence of the matter but, like the hands of a clock +detached from the mechanism, swung about in an arbitrary and aimless +way without engaging the cogwheels. + +With reference to the military side--the plan of campaign--that work +of genius of which Thiers remarks that, "His genius never devised +anything more profound, more skillful, or more admirable," and enters +into a polemic with M. Fain to prove that this work of genius must be +referred not to the fourth but to the fifteenth of October--that plan +never was or could be executed, for it was quite out of touch with the +facts of the case. The fortifying of the Kremlin, for which la Mosquee +(as Napoleon termed the church of Basil the Beatified) was to have +been razed to the ground, proved quite useless. The mining of the +Kremlin only helped toward fulfilling Napoleon's wish that it should +be blown up when he left Moscow--as a child wants the floor on which +he has hurt himself to be beaten. The pursuit of the Russian army, +about which Napoleon was so concerned, produced an unheard-of result. +The French generals lost touch with the Russian army of sixty thousand +men, and according to Thiers it was only eventually found, like a lost +pin, by the skill--and apparently the genius--of Murat. + +With reference to diplomacy, all Napoleon's arguments as to his +magnanimity and justice, both to Tutolmin and to Yakovlev (whose chief +concern was to obtain a greatcoat and a conveyance), proved useless; +Alexander did not receive these envoys and did not reply to their +embassage. + +With regard to legal matters, after the execution of the supposed +incendiaries the rest of Moscow burned down. + +With regard to administrative matters, the establishment of a +municipality did not stop the robberies and was only of use to certain +people who formed part of that municipality and under pretext of +preserving order looted Moscow or saved their own property from +being looted. + +With regard to religion, as to which in Egypt matters had so +easily been settled by Napoleon's visit to a mosque, no results were +achieved. Two or three priests who were found in Moscow did try to +carry out Napoleon's wish, but one of them was slapped in the face +by a French soldier while conducting service, and a French official +reported of another that: "The priest whom I found and invited to +say Mass cleaned and locked up the church. That night the doors were +again broken open, the padlocks smashed, the books mutilated, and +other disorders perpetrated." + +With reference to commerce, the proclamation to industrious +workmen and to peasants evoked no response. There were no +industrious workmen, and the peasants caught the commissaries who +ventured too far out of town with the proclamation and killed them. + +As to the theaters for the entertainment of the people and the +troops, these did not meet with success either. The theaters set up in +the Kremlin and in Posnyakov's house were closed again at once because +the actors and actresses were robbed. + +Even philanthropy did not have the desired effect. The genuine as +well as the false paper money which flooded Moscow lost its value. The +French, collecting booty, cared only for gold. Not only was the +paper money valueless which Napoleon so graciously distributed to +the unfortunate, but even silver lost its value in relation to gold. + +But the most amazing example of the ineffectiveness of the orders +given by the authorities at that time was Napoleon's attempt to stop +the looting and re-establish discipline. + +This is what the army authorities were reporting: + +"Looting continues in the city despite the decrees against it. Order +is not yet restored and not a single merchant is carrying on trade +in a lawful manner. The sutlers alone venture to trade, and they +sell stolen goods." + +"The neighborhood of my ward continues to be pillaged by soldiers of +the 3rd Corps who, not satisfied with taking from the unfortunate +inhabitants hiding in the cellars the little they have left, even have +the ferocity to wound them with their sabers, as I have repeatedly +witnessed." + +"Nothing new, except that the soldiers are robbing and +pillaging--October 9." + +"Robbery and pillaging continue. There is a band of thieves in our +district who ought to be arrested by a strong force--October 11." + +"The Emperor is extremely displeased that despite the strict +orders to stop pillage, parties of marauding Guards are continually +seen returning to the Kremlin. Among the Old Guard disorder and +pillage were renewed more violently than ever yesterday evening, +last night, and today. The Emperor sees with regret that the picked +soldiers appointed to guard his person, who should set an example of +discipline, carry disobedience to such a point that they break into +the cellars and stores containing army supplies. Others have disgraced +themselves to the extent of disobeying sentinels and officers, and +have abused and beaten them." + +"The Grand Marshal of the palace," wrote the governor, "complains +bitterly that in spite of repeated orders, the soldiers continue to +commit nuisances in all the courtyards and even under the very windows +of the Emperor." + +That army, like a herd of cattle run wild and trampling underfoot +the provender which might have saved it from starvation, disintegrated +and perished with each additional day it remained in Moscow. But it +did not go away. + +It began to run away only when suddenly seized by a panic caused +by the capture of transport trains on the Smolensk road, and by the +battle of Tarutino. The news of that battle of Tarutino, +unexpectedly received by Napoleon at a review, evoked in him a +desire to punish the Russians (Thiers says), and he issued the order +for departure which the whole army was demanding. + +Fleeing from Moscow the soldiers took with them everything they +had stolen. Napoleon, too, carried away his own personal tresor, but +on seeing the baggage trains that impeded the army, he was (Thiers +says) horror-struck. And yet with his experience of war he did not +order all the superfluous vehicles to be burned, as he had done with +those of a certain marshal when approaching Moscow. He gazed at the +caleches and carriages in which soldiers were riding and remarked that +it was a very good thing, as those vehicles could be used to carry +provisions, the sick, and the wounded. + +The plight of the whole army resembled that of a wounded animal which +feels it is perishing and does not know what it is doing. To study the +skillful tactics and aims of Napoleon and his army from the time it +entered Moscow till it was destroyed is like studying the dying leaps +and shudders of a mortally wounded animal. Very often a wounded +animal, hearing a rustle, rushes straight at the hunter's gun, runs +forward and back again, and hastens its own end. Napoleon, under +pressure from his whole army, did the same thing. The rustle of the +battle of Tarutino frightened the beast, and it rushed forward onto +the hunter's gun, reached him, turned back, and finally--like any wild +beast--ran back along the most disadvantageous and dangerous path, +where the old scent was familiar. + +During the whole of that period Napoleon, who seems to us to have +been the leader of all these movements--as the figurehead of a ship +may seem to a savage to guide the vessel--acted like a child who, +holding a couple of strings inside a carriage, thinks he is driving +it. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Early in the morning of the sixth of October Pierre went out of +the shed, and on returning stopped by the door to play with a little +blue-gray dog, with a long body and short bandy legs, that jumped +about him. This little dog lived in their shed, sleeping beside +Karataev at night; it sometimes made excursions into the town but +always returned again. Probably it had never had an owner, and it +still belonged to nobody and had no name. The French called it Azor; +the soldier who told stories called it Femgalka; Karataev and others +called it Gray, or sometimes Flabby. Its lack of a master, a name, +or even of a breed or any definite color did not seem to trouble the +blue-gray dog in the least. Its furry tail stood up firm and round +as a plume, its bandy legs served it so well that it would often +gracefully lift a hind leg and run very easily and quickly on three +legs, as if disdaining to use all four. Everything pleased it. Now +it would roll on its back, yelping with delight, now bask in the sun +with a thoughtful air of importance, and now frolic about playing with +a chip of wood or a straw. + +Pierre's attire by now consisted of a dirty torn shirt (the only +remnant of his former clothing), a pair of soldier's trousers which by +Karataev's advice he tied with string round the ankles for warmth, and +a peasant coat and cap. Physically he had changed much during this +time. He no longer seemed stout, though he still had the appearance of +solidity and strength hereditary in his family. A beard and mustache +covered the lower part of his face, and a tangle of hair, infested +with lice, curled round his head like a cap. The look of his eyes +was resolute, calm, and animatedly alert, as never before. The +former slackness which had shown itself even in his eyes was now +replaced by an energetic readiness for action and resistance. His feet +were bare. + +Pierre first looked down the field across which vehicles and +horsemen were passing that morning, then into the distance across +the river, then at the dog who was pretending to be in earnest about +biting him, and then at his bare feet which he placed with pleasure in +various positions, moving his dirty thick big toes. Every time he +looked at his bare feet a smile of animated self-satisfaction +flitted across his face. The sight of them reminded him of all he +had experienced and learned during these weeks and this recollection +was pleasant to him. + +For some days the weather had been calm and clear with slight frosts +in the mornings--what is called an "old wives' summer." + +In the sunshine the air was warm, and that warmth was particularly +pleasant with the invigorating freshness of the morning frost still in +the air. + +On everything--far and near--lay the magic crystal glitter seen only +at that time of autumn. The Sparrow Hills were visible in the distance, +with the village, the church, and the large white house. The bare +trees, the sand, the bricks and roofs of the houses, the green +church spire, and the corners of the white house in the distance, +all stood out in the transparent air in most delicate outline and with +unnatural clearness. Near by could be seen the familiar ruins of a +half-burned mansion occupied by the French, with lilac bushes still +showing dark green beside the fence. And even that ruined and befouled +house--which in dull weather was repulsively ugly--seemed quietly +beautiful now, in the clear, motionless brilliance. + +A French corporal, with coat unbuttoned in a homely way, a +skullcap on his head, and a short pipe in his mouth, came from +behind a corner of the shed and approached Pierre with a friendly +wink. + +"What sunshine, Monsieur Kiril!" (Their name for Pierre.) "Eh? +Just like spring!" + +And the corporal leaned against the door and offered Pierre his +pipe, though whenever he offered it Pierre always declined it. + +"To be on the march in such weather..." he began. + +Pierre inquired what was being said about leaving, and the +corporal told him that nearly all the troops were starting and there +ought to be an order about the prisoners that day. Sokolov, one of the +soldiers in the shed with Pierre, was dying, and Pierre told the +corporal that something should be done about him. The corporal replied +that Pierre need not worry about that as they had an ambulance and a +permanent hospital and arrangements would be made for the sick, and +that in general everything that could happen had been foreseen by +the authorities. + +"Besides, Monsieur Kiril, you have only to say a word to the +captain, you know. He is a man who never forgets anything. Speak to +the captain when he makes his round, he will do anything for you." + +(The captain of whom the corporal spoke often had long chats with +Pierre and showed him all sorts of favors.) + +"'You see, St. Thomas,' he said to me the other day. 'Monsieur Kiril +is a man of education, who speaks French. He is a Russian seigneur who +has had misfortunes, but he is a man. He knows what's what.... If he +wants anything and asks me, he won't get a refusal. When one has +studied, you see, one likes education and well-bred people.' It is for +your sake I mention it, Monsieur Kiril. The other day if it had not +been for you that affair would have ended ill." + +And after chatting a while longer, the corporal went away. (The +affair he had alluded to had happened a few days before--a fight +between the prisoners and the French soldiers, in which Pierre had +succeeded in pacifying his comrades.) Some of the prisoners who had +heard Pierre talking to the corporal immediately asked what the +Frenchman had said. While Pierre was repeating what he had been told +about the army leaving Moscow, a thin, sallow, tattered French soldier +came up to the door of the shed. Rapidly and timidly raising his +fingers to his forehead by way of greeting, he asked Pierre whether +the soldier Platoche to whom he had given a shirt to sew was in that +shed. + +A week before the French had had boot leather and linen issued to +them, which they had given out to the prisoners to make up into +boots and shirts for them. + +"Ready, ready, dear fellow!" said Karataev, coming out with a neatly +folded shirt. + +Karataev, on account of the warm weather and for convenience at +work, was wearing only trousers and a tattered shirt as black as soot. +His hair was bound round, workman fashion, with a wisp of lime-tree +bast, and his round face seemed rounder and pleasanter than ever. + +"A promise is own brother to performance! I said Friday and here +it is, ready," said Platon, smiling and unfolding the shirt he had +sewn. + +The Frenchman glanced around uneasily and then, as if overcoming his +hesitation, rapidly threw off his uniform and put on the shirt. He had +a long, greasy, flowered silk waistcoat next to his sallow, thin +bare body, but no shirt. He was evidently afraid the prisoners looking +on would laugh at him, and thrust his head into the shirt hurriedly. +None of the prisoners said a word. + +"See, it fits well!" Platon kept repeating, pulling the shirt +straight. + +The Frenchman, having pushed his head and hands through, without +raising his eyes, looked down at the shirt and examined the seams. + +"You see, dear man, this is not a sewing shop, and I had no proper +tools; and, as they say, one needs a tool even to kill a louse," +said Platon with one of his round smiles, obviously pleased with his +work. + +"It's good, quite good, thank you," said the Frenchman, in French, +"but there must be some linen left over. + +"It will fit better still when it sets to your body," said Karataev, +still admiring his handiwork. "You'll be nice and comfortable...." + +"Thanks, thanks, old fellow.... But the bits left over?" said the +Frenchman again and smiled. He took out an assignation ruble note +and gave it to Karataev. "But give me the pieces that are over." + +Pierre saw that Platon did not want to understand what the Frenchman +was saying, and he looked on without interfering. Karataev thanked the +Frenchman for the money and went on admiring his own work. The +Frenchman insisted on having the pieces returned that were left over +and asked Pierre to translate what he said. + +"What does he want the bits for?" said Karataev. "They'd make fine +leg bands for us. Well, never mind." + +And Karataev, with a suddenly changed and saddened expression, +took a small bundle of scraps from inside his shirt and gave it to the +Frenchman without looking at him. "Oh dear!" muttered Karataev and +went away. The Frenchman looked at the linen, considered for a moment, +then looked inquiringly at Pierre and, as if Pierre's look had told +him something, suddenly blushed and shouted in a squeaky voice: + +"Platoche! Eh, Platoche! Keep them yourself!" And handing back the +odd bits he turned and went out. + +"There, look at that," said Karataev, swaying his head. "People said +they were not Christians, but they too have souls. It's what the old +folk used to say: 'A sweating hand's an open hand, a dry hand's +close.' He's naked, but yet he's given it back." + +Karataev smiled thoughtfully and was silent awhile looking at the +pieces. + +"But they'll make grand leg bands, dear friend," he said, and went +back into the shed. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Four weeks had passed since Pierre had been taken prisoner and +though the French had offered to move him from the men's to the +officers' shed, he had stayed in the shed where he was first put. + +In burned and devastated Moscow Pierre experienced almost the +extreme limits of privation a man can endure; but thanks to his +physical strength and health, of which he had till then been +unconscious, and thanks especially to the fact that the privations +came so gradually that it was impossible to say when they began, he +endured his position not only lightly but joyfully. And just at this +time he obtained the tranquillity and ease of mind he had formerly +striven in vain to reach. He had long sought in different ways that +tranquillity of mind, that inner harmony which had so impressed him in +the soldiers at the battle of Borodino. He had sought it in +philanthropy, in Freemasonry, in the dissipations of town life, in +wine, in heroic feats of self-sacrifice, and in romantic love for +Natasha; he had sought it by reasoning--and all these quests and +experiments had failed him. And now without thinking about it he had +found that peace and inner harmony only through the horror of death, +through privation, and through what he recognized in Karataev. + +Those dreadful moments he had lived through at the executions had as +it were forever washed away from his imagination and memory the +agitating thoughts and feelings that had formerly seemed so important. +It did not now occur to him to think of Russia, or the war, or +politics, or Napoleon. It was plain to him that all these things +were no business of his, and that he was not called on to judge +concerning them and therefore could not do so. "Russia and summer +weather are not bound together," he thought, repeating words of +Karataev's which he found strangely consoling. His intention of +killing Napoleon and his calculations of the cabalistic number of +the beast of the Apocalypse now seemed to him meaningless and even +ridiculous. His anger with his wife and anxiety that his name should +not be smirched now seemed not merely trivial but even amusing. What +concern was it of his that somewhere or other that woman was leading +the life she preferred? What did it matter to anybody, and +especially to him, whether or not they found out that their prisoner's +name was Count Bezukhov? + +He now often remembered his conversation with Prince Andrew and +quite agreed with him, though he understood Prince Andrew's thoughts +somewhat differently. Prince Andrew had thought and said that +happiness could only be negative, but had said it with a shade of +bitterness and irony as though he was really saying that all desire +for positive happiness is implanted in us merely to torment us and +never be satisfied. But Pierre believed it without any mental +reservation. The absence of suffering, the satisfaction of one's needs +and consequent freedom in the choice of one's occupation, that is, +of one's way of life, now seemed to Pierre to be indubitably man's +highest happiness. Here and now for the first time he fully +appreciated the enjoyment of eating when he wanted to eat, drinking +when he wanted to drink, sleeping when he wanted to sleep, of warmth +when he was cold, of talking to a fellow man when he wished to talk +and to hear a human voice. The satisfaction of one's needs--good food, +cleanliness, and freedom--now that he was deprived of all this, seemed +to Pierre to constitute perfect happiness; and the choice of +occupation, that is, of his way of life--now that that was so +restricted--seemed to him such an easy matter that he forgot that a +superfluity of the comforts of life destroys all joy in satisfying +one's needs, while great freedom in the choice of occupation--such +freedom as his wealth, his education, and his social position had +given him in his own life--is just what makes the choice of occupation +insolubly difficult and destroys the desire and possibility of +having an occupation. + +All Pierre's daydreams now turned on the time when he would be free. +Yet subsequently, and for the rest of his life, he thought and spoke +with enthusiasm of that month of captivity, of those irrecoverable, +strong, joyful sensations, and chiefly of the complete peace of mind +and inner freedom which he experienced only during those weeks. + +When on the first day he got up early, went out of the shed at dawn, +and saw the cupolas and crosses of the New Convent of the Virgin still +dark at first, the hoarfrost on the dusty grass, the Sparrow Hills, +and the wooded banks above the winding river vanishing in the purple +distance, when he felt the contact of the fresh air and heard the +noise of the crows flying from Moscow across the field, and when +afterwards light gleamed from the east and the sun's rim appeared +solemnly from behind a cloud, and the cupolas and crosses, the +hoarfrost, the distance and the river, all began to sparkle in the +glad light--Pierre felt a new joy and strength in life such as he +had never before known. And this not only stayed with him during the +whole of his imprisonment, but even grew in strength as the +hardships of his position increased. + +That feeling of alertness and of readiness for anything was still +further strengthened in him by the high opinion his fellow prisoners +formed of him soon after his arrival at the shed. With his knowledge +of languages, the respect shown him by the French, his simplicity, his +readiness to give anything asked of him (he received the allowance +of three rubles a week made to officers); with his strength, which +he showed to the soldiers by pressing nails into the walls of the hut; +his gentleness to his companions, and his capacity for sitting still +and thinking without doing anything (which seemed to them +incomprehensible), he appeared to them a rather mysterious and +superior being. The very qualities that had been a hindrance, if not +actually harmful, to him in the world he had lived in--his strength, +his disdain for the comforts of life, his absent-mindedness and +simplicity--here among these people gave him almost the status of a +hero. And Pierre felt that their opinion placed responsibilities +upon him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The French evacuation began on the night between the sixth and +seventh of October: kitchens and sheds were dismantled, carts +loaded, and troops and baggage trains started. + +At seven in the morning a French convoy in marching trim, wearing +shakos and carrying muskets, knapsacks, and enormous sacks, stood in +front of the sheds, and animated French talk mingled with curses +sounded all along the lines. + +In the shed everyone was ready, dressed, belted, shod, and only +awaited the order to start. The sick soldier, Sokolov, pale and thin +with dark shadows round his eyes, alone sat in his place barefoot +and not dressed. His eyes, prominent from the emaciation of his +face, gazed inquiringly at his comrades who were paying no attention +to him, and he moaned regularly and quietly. It was evidently not so +much his sufferings that caused him to moan (he had dysentery) as +his fear and grief at being left alone. + +Pierre, girt with a rope round his waist and wearing shoes +Karataev had made for him from some leather a French soldier had +torn off a tea chest and brought to have his boots mended with, went +up to the sick man and squatted down beside him. + +"You know, Sokolov, they are not all going away! They have a +hospital here. You may be better off than we others," said Pierre. + +"O Lord! Oh, it will be the death of me! O Lord!" moaned the man +in a louder voice. + +"I'll go and ask them again directly," said Pierre, rising and going +to the door of the shed. + +Just as Pierre reached the door, the corporal who had offered him +a pipe the day before came up to it with two soldiers. The corporal +and soldiers were in marching kit with knapsacks and shakos that had +metal straps, and these changed their familiar faces. + +The corporal came, according to orders, to shut the door. The +prisoners had to be counted before being let out. + +"Corporal, what will they do with the sick man?..." Pierre began. + +But even as he spoke he began to doubt whether this was the corporal +he knew or a stranger, so unlike himself did the corporal seem at that +moment. Moreover, just as Pierre was speaking a sharp rattle of +drums was suddenly heard from both sides. The corporal frowned at +Pierre's words and, uttering some meaningless oaths, slammed the door. +The shed became semidark, and the sharp rattle of the drums on two +sides drowned the sick man's groans. + +"There it is!... It again!..." said Pierre to himself, and an +involuntary shudder ran down his spine. In the corporal's changed +face, in the sound of his voice, in the stirring and deafening noise +of the drums, he recognized that mysterious, callous force which +compelled people against their will to kill their fellow men--that +force the effect of which he had witnessed during the executions. To +fear or to try to escape that force, to address entreaties or +exhortations to those who served as its tools, was useless. Pierre +knew this now. One had to wait and endure. He did not again go to +the sick man, nor turn to look at him, but stood frowning by the +door of the hut. + +When that door was opened and the prisoners, crowding against one +another like a flock of sheep, squeezed into the exit, Pierre pushed +his way forward and approached that very captain who as the corporal +had assured him was ready to do anything for him. The captain was also +in marching kit, and on his cold face appeared that same it which +Pierre had recognized in the corporal's words and in the roll of the +drums. + +"Pass on, pass on!" the captain reiterated, frowning sternly, and +looking at the prisoners who thronged past him. + +Pierre went up to him, though he knew his attempt would be vain. + +"What now?" the officer asked with a cold look as if not recognizing +Pierre. + +Pierre told him about the sick man. + +"He'll manage to walk, devil take him!" said the captain. "Pass +on, pass on!" he continued without looking at Pierre. + +"But he is dying," Pierre again began. + +"Be so good..." shouted the captain, frowning angrily. + +"Dram-da-da-dam, dam-dam..." rattled the drums, and Pierre +understood that this mysterious force completely controlled these +men and that it was now useless to say any more. + +The officer prisoners were separated from the soldiers and told to +march in front. There were about thirty officers, with Pierre among +them, and about three hundred men. + +The officers, who had come from the other sheds, were all +strangers to Pierre and much better dressed than he. They looked at +him and at his shoes mistrustfully, as at an alien. Not far from him +walked a fat major with a sallow, bloated, angry face, who was wearing +a Kazan dressing gown tied round with a towel, and who evidently +enjoyed the respect of his fellow prisoners. He kept one hand, in +which he clasped his tobacco pouch, inside the bosom of his dressing +gown and held the stem of his pipe firmly with the other. Panting +and puffing, the major grumbled and growled at everybody because he +thought he was being pushed and that they were all hurrying when +they had nowhere to hurry to and were all surprised at something +when there was nothing to be surprised at. Another, a thin little +officer, was speaking to everyone, conjecturing where they were now +being taken and how far they would get that day. An official in felt +boots and wearing a commissariat uniform ran round from side to side +and gazed at the ruins of Moscow, loudly announcing his observations +as to what had been burned down and what this or that part of the city +was that they could see. A third officer, who by his accent was a +Pole, disputed with the commissariat officer, arguing that he was +mistaken in his identification of the different wards of Moscow. + +"What are you disputing about?" said the major angrily. "What does +it matter whether it is St. Nicholas or St. Blasius? You see it's +burned down, and there's an end of it.... What are you pushing for? +Isn't the road wide enough?" said he, turning to a man behind him +who was not pushing him at all. + +"Oh, oh, oh! What have they done?" the prisoners on one side and +another were heard saying as they gazed on the charred ruins. "All +beyond the river, and Zubova, and in the Kremlin.... Just look! +There's not half of it left. Yes, I told you--the whole quarter beyond +the river, and so it is." + +"Well, you know it's burned, so what's the use of talking?" said the +major. + +As they passed near a church in the Khamovniki (one of the few +unburned quarters of Moscow) the whole mass of prisoners suddenly +started to one side and exclamations of horror and disgust were heard. + +"Ah, the villains! What heathens! Yes; dead, dead, so he is... And +smeared with something!" + +Pierre too drew near the church where the thing was that evoked +these exclamations, and dimly made out something leaning against the +palings surrounding the church. From the words of his comrades who saw +better than he did, he found that this was the body of a man, set +upright against the palings with its face smeared with soot. + +"Go on! What the devil... Go on! Thirty thousand devils!..." the +convoy guards began cursing and the French soldiers, with fresh +virulence, drove away with their swords the crowd of prisoners who +were gazing at the dead man. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Through the cross streets of the Khamovniki quarter the prisoners +marched, followed only by their escort and the vehicles and wagons +belonging to that escort, but when they reached the supply stores they +came among a huge and closely packed train of artillery mingled with +private vehicles. + +At the bridge they all halted, waiting for those in front to get +across. From the bridge they had a view of endless lines of moving +baggage trains before and behind them. To the right, where the +Kaluga road turns near Neskuchny, endless rows of troops and carts +stretched away into the distance. These were troops of Beauharnais' +corps which had started before any of the others. Behind, along the +riverside and across the Stone Bridge, were Ney's troops and +transport. + +Davout's troops, in whose charge were the prisoners, were crossing +the Crimean bridge and some were already debouching into the Kaluga +road. But the baggage trains stretched out so that the last of +Beauharnais' train had not yet got out of Moscow and reached the +Kaluga road when the vanguard of Ney's army was already emerging +from the Great Ordynka Street. + +When they had crossed the Crimean bridge the prisoners moved a few +steps forward, halted, and again moved on, and from all sides vehicles +and men crowded closer and closer together. They advanced the few +hundred paces that separated the bridge from the Kaluga road, taking +more than an hour to do so, and came out upon the square where the +streets of the Transmoskva ward and the Kaluga road converge, and +the prisoners jammed close together had to stand for some hours at +that crossway. From all sides, like the roar of the sea, were heard +the rattle of wheels, the tramp of feet, and incessant shouts of anger +and abuse. Pierre stood pressed against the wall of a charred house, +listening to that noise which mingled in his imagination with the roll +of the drums. + +To get a better view, several officer prisoners climbed onto the +wall of the half-burned house against which Pierre was leaning. + +"What crowds! Just look at the crowds!... They've loaded goods +even on the cannon! Look there, those are furs!" they exclaimed. "Just +see what the blackguards have looted.... There! See what that one +has behind in the cart.... Why, those are settings taken from some +icons, by heaven!... Oh, the rascals!... See how that fellow has +loaded himself up, he can hardly walk! Good lord, they've even grabbed +those chaises!... See that fellow there sitting on the trunks.... +Heavens! They're fighting." + +"That's right, hit him on the snout--on his snout! Like this, we +shan't get away before evening. Look, look there.... Why, that must be +Napoleon's own. See what horses! And the monograms with a crown! +It's like a portable house.... That fellow's dropped his sack and +doesn't see it. Fighting again... A woman with a baby, and not +bad-looking either! Yes, I dare say, that's the way they'll let you +pass... Just look, there's no end to it. Russian wenches, by heaven, +so they are! In carriages--see how comfortably they've settled +themselves!" + +Again, as at the church in Khamovniki, a wave of general curiosity +bore all the prisoners forward onto the road, and Pierre, thanks to +his stature, saw over the heads of the others what so attracted +their curiosity. In three carriages involved among the munition carts, +closely squeezed together, sat women with rouged faces, dressed in +glaring colors, who were shouting something in shrill voices. + +From the moment Pierre had recognized the appearance of the +mysterious force nothing had seemed to him strange or dreadful: +neither the corpse smeared with soot for fun nor these women +hurrying away nor the burned ruins of Moscow. All that he now +witnessed scarcely made an impression on him--as if his soul, making +ready for a hard struggle, refused to receive impressions that might +weaken it. + +The women's vehicles drove by. Behind them came more carts, +soldiers, wagons, soldiers, gun carriages, carriages, soldiers, +ammunition carts, more soldiers, and now and then women. + +Pierre did not see the people as individuals but saw their movement. + +All these people and horses seemed driven forward by some +invisible power. During the hour Pierre watched them they all came +flowing from the different streets with one and the same desire to get +on quickly; they all jostled one another, began to grow angry and to +fight, white teeth gleamed, brows frowned, ever the same words of +abuse flew from side to side, and all the faces bore the same +swaggeringly resolute and coldly cruel expression that had struck +Pierre that morning on the corporal's face when the drums were +beating. + +It was not till nearly evening that the officer commanding the +escort collected his men and with shouts and quarrels forced his way +in among the baggage trains, and the prisoners, hemmed in on all +sides, emerged onto the Kaluga road. + +They marched very quickly, without resting, and halted only when the +sun began to set. The baggage carts drew up close together and the men +began to prepare for their night's rest. They all appeared angry and +dissatisfied. For a long time, oaths, angry shouts, and fighting could +be heard from all sides. A carriage that followed the escort ran +into one of the carts and knocked a hole in it with its pole. +Several soldiers ran toward the cart from different sides: some beat +the carriage horses on their heads, turning them aside, others +fought among themselves, and Pierre saw that one German was badly +wounded on the head by a sword. + +It seemed that all these men, now that they had stopped amid +fields in the chill dusk of the autumn evening, experienced one and +the same feeling of unpleasant awakening from the hurry and +eagerness to push on that had seized them at the start. Once at a +standstill they all seemed to understand that they did not yet know +where they were going, and that much that was painful and difficult +awaited them on this journey. + +During this halt the escort treated the prisoners even worse than +they had done at the start. It was here that the prisoners for the +first time received horseflesh for their meat ration. + +From the officer down to the lowest soldier they showed what +seemed like personal spite against each of the prisoners, in +unexpected contrast to their former friendly relations. + +This spite increased still more when, on calling over the roll of +prisoners, it was found that in the bustle of leaving Moscow one +Russian soldier, who had pretended to suffer from colic, had +escaped. Pierre saw a Frenchman beat a Russian soldier cruelly for +straying too far from the road, and heard his friend the captain +reprimand and threaten to court-martial a noncommissioned officer on +account of the escape of the Russian. To the noncommissioned officer's +excuse that the prisoner was ill and could not walk, the officer +replied that the order was to shoot those who lagged behind. Pierre +felt that that fatal force which had crushed him during the +executions, but which he had not felt during his imprisonment, now +again controlled his existence. It was terrible, but he felt that in +proportion to the efforts of that fatal force to crush him, there grew +and strengthened in his soul a power of life independent of it. + +He ate his supper of buckwheat soup with horseflesh and chatted with +his comrades. + +Neither Pierre nor any of the others spoke of what they had seen +in Moscow, or of the roughness of their treatment by the French, or of +the order to shoot them which had been announced to them. As if in +reaction against the worsening of their position they were all +particularly animated and gay. They spoke of personal reminiscences, +of amusing scenes they had witnessed during the campaign, and +avoided all talk of their present situation. + +The sun had set long since. Bright stars shone out here and there in +the sky. A red glow as of a conflagration spread above the horizon +from the rising full moon, and that vast red ball swayed strangely +in the gray haze. It grew light. The evening was ending, but the night +had not yet come. Pierre got up and left his new companions, +crossing between the campfires to the other side of the road where +he had been told the common soldier prisoners were stationed. He +wanted to talk to them. On the road he was stopped by a French +sentinel who ordered him back. + +Pierre turned back, not to his companions by the campfire, but to an +unharnessed cart where there was nobody. Tucking his legs under him +and dropping his head he sat down on the cold ground by the wheel of +the cart and remained motionless a long while sunk in thought. +Suddenly he burst out into a fit of his broad, good-natured +laughter, so loud that men from various sides turned with surprise +to see what this strange and evidently solitary laughter could mean. + +"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Pierre. And he said aloud to himself: "The +soldier did not let me pass. They took me and shut me up. They hold me +captive. What, me? Me? My immortal soul? Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!..." and +he laughed till tears started to his eyes. + +A man got up and came to see what this queer big fellow was laughing +at all by himself. Pierre stopped laughing, got up, went farther +away from the inquisitive man, and looked around him. + +The huge, endless bivouac that had previously resounded with the +crackling of campfires and the voices of many men had grown quiet, the +red campfires were growing paler and dying down. High up in the +light sky hung the full moon. Forests and fields beyond the camp, +unseen before, were now visible in the distance. And farther still, +beyond those forests and fields, the bright, oscillating, limitless +distance lured one to itself. Pierre glanced up at the sky and the +twinkling stars in its faraway depths. "And all that is me, all that +is within me, and it is all I!" thought Pierre. "And they caught all +that and put it into a shed boarded up with planks!" He smiled, and +went and lay down to sleep beside his companions. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +In the early days of October another envoy came to Kutuzov with a +letter from Napoleon proposing peace and falsely dated from Moscow, +though Napoleon was already not far from Kutuzov on the old Kaluga +road. Kutuzov replied to this letter as he had done to the one +formerly brought by Lauriston, saying that there could be no +question of peace. + +Soon after that a report was received from Dorokhov's guerrilla +detachment operating to the left of Tarutino that troops of +Broussier's division had been seen at Forminsk and that being +separated from the rest of the French army they might easily be +destroyed. The soldiers and officers again demanded action. Generals +on the staff, excited by the memory of the easy victory at Tarutino, +urged Kutuzov to carry out Dorokhov's suggestion. Kutuzov did not +consider any offensive necessary. The result was a compromise which +was inevitable: a small detachment was sent to Forminsk to attack +Broussier. + +By a strange coincidence, this task, which turned out to be a most +difficult and important one, was entrusted to Dokhturov--that same +modest little Dokhturov whom no one had described to us as drawing +up plans of battles, dashing about in front of regiments, showering +crosses on batteries, and so on, and who was thought to be and was +spoken of as undecided and undiscerning--but whom we find commanding +wherever the position was most difficult all through the +Russo-French wars from Austerlitz to the year 1813. At Austerlitz he +remained last at the Augezd dam, rallying the regiments, saving what +was possible when all were flying and perishing and not a single +general was left in the rear guard. Ill with fever he went to Smolensk +with twenty thousand men to defend the town against Napoleon's whole +army. In Smolensk, at the Malakhov Gate, he had hardly dozed off in +a paroxysm of fever before he was awakened by the bombardment of the +town--and Smolensk held out all day long. At the battle of Borodino, +when Bagration was killed and nine tenths of the men of our left flank +had fallen and the full force of the French artillery fire was +directed against it, the man sent there was this same irresolute and +undiscerning Dokhturov--Kutuzov hastening to rectify a mistake he +had made by sending someone else there first. And the quiet little +Dokhturov rode thither, and Borodino became the greatest glory of +the Russian army. Many heroes have been described to us in verse and +prose, but of Dokhturov scarcely a word has been said. + +It was Dokhturov again whom they sent to Forminsk and from there +to Malo-Yaroslavets, the place where the last battle with the French +was fought and where the obvious disintegration of the French army +began; and we are told of many geniuses and heroes of that period of +the campaign, but of Dokhturov nothing or very little is said and that +dubiously. And this silence about Dokhturov is the clearest +testimony to his merit. + +It is natural for a man who does not understand the workings of a +machine to imagine that a shaving that has fallen into it by chance +and is interfering with its action and tossing about in it is its most +important part. The man who does not understand the construction of +the machine cannot conceive that the small connecting cogwheel which +revolves quietly is one of the most essential parts of the machine, +and not the shaving which merely harms and hinders the working. + +On the tenth of October when Dokhturov had gone halfway to +Forminsk and stopped at the village of Aristovo, preparing +faithfully to execute the orders he had received, the whole French +army having, in its convulsive movement, reached Murat's position +apparently in order to give battle--suddenly without any reason turned +off to the left onto the new Kaluga road and began to enter +Forminsk, where only Broussier had been till then. At that time +Dokhturov had under his command, besides Dorokhov's detachment, the +two small guerrilla detachments of Figner and Seslavin. + +On the evening of October 11 Seslavin came to the Aristovo +headquarters with a French guardsman he had captured. The prisoner +said that the troops that had entered Forminsk that day were the +vanguard of the whole army, that Napoleon was there and the whole army +had left Moscow four days previously. That same evening a house serf +who had come from Borovsk said he had seen an immense army entering +the town. Some Cossacks of Dokhturov's detachment reported having +sighted the French Guards marching along the road to Borovsk. From all +these reports it was evident that where they had expected to meet a +single division there was now the whole French army marching from +Moscow in an unexpected direction--along the Kaluga road. Dokhturov +was unwilling to undertake any action, as it was not clear to him +now what he ought to do. He had been ordered to attack Forminsk. But +only Broussier had been there at that time and now the whole French +army was there. Ermolov wished to act on his own judgment, but +Dokhturov insisted that he must have Kutuzov's instructions. So it was +decided to send a dispatch to the staff. + +For this purpose a capable officer, Bolkhovitinov, was chosen, who +was to explain the whole affair by word of mouth, besides delivering a +written report. Toward midnight Bolkhovitinov, having received the +dispatch and verbal instructions, galloped off to the General Staff +accompanied by a Cossack with spare horses. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +It was a warm, dark, autumn night. It had been raining for four +days. Having changed horses twice and galloped twenty miles in an hour +and a half over a sticky, muddy road, Bolkhovitinov reached Litashevka +after one o'clock at night. Dismounting at a cottage on whose wattle +fence hung a signboard, GENERAL STAFF, and throwing down his reins, he +entered a dark passage. + +"The general on duty, quick! It's very important!" said he to +someone who had risen and was sniffing in the dark passage. + +"He has been very unwell since the evening and this is the third +night he has not slept," said the orderly pleadingly in a whisper. +"You should wake the captain first." + +"But this is very important, from General Dokhturov," said +Bolkhovitinov, entering the open door which he had found by feeling in +the dark. + +The orderly had gone in before him and began waking somebody. + +"Your honor, your honor! A courier." + +"What? What's that? From whom?" came a sleepy voice. + +"From Dokhturov and from Alexey Petrovich. Napoleon is at Forminsk," +said Bolkhovitinov, unable to see in the dark who was speaking but +guessing by the voice that it was not Konovnitsyn. + +The man who had wakened yawned and stretched himself. + +"I don't like waking him," he said, fumbling for something. "He is +very ill. Perhaps this is only a rumor." + +"Here is the dispatch," said Bolkhovitinov. "My orders are to give +it at once to the general on duty." + +"Wait a moment, I'll light a candle. You damned rascal, where do you +always hide it?" said the voice of the man who was stretching himself, +to the orderly. (This was Shcherbinin, Konovnitsyn's adjutant.) +"I've found it, I've found it!" he added. + +The orderly was striking a light and Shcherbinin was fumbling for +something on the candlestick. + +"Oh, the nasty beasts!" said he with disgust. + +By the light of the sparks Bolkhovitinov saw Shcherbinin's +youthful face as he held the candle, and the face of another man who +was still asleep. This was Konovnitsyn. + +When the flame of the sulphur splinters kindled by the tinder burned +up, first blue and then red, Shcherbinin lit the tallow candle, from +the candlestick of which the cockroaches that had been gnawing it were +running away, and looked at the messenger. Bolkhovitinov was +bespattered all over with mud and had smeared his face by wiping it +with his sleeve. + +"Who gave the report?" inquired Shcherbinin, taking the envelope. + +"The news is reliable," said Bolkhovitinov. "Prisoners, Cossacks, +and the scouts all say the same thing." + +"There's nothing to be done, we'll have to wake him," said +Shcherbinin, rising and going up to the man in the nightcap who lay +covered by a greatcoat. "Peter Petrovich!" said he. (Konovnitsyn did +not stir.) "To the General Staff!" he said with a smile, knowing +that those words would be sure to arouse him. + +And in fact the head in the nightcap was lifted at once. On +Konovnitsyn's handsome, resolute face with cheeks flushed by fever, +there still remained for an instant a faraway dreamy expression remote +from present affairs, but then he suddenly started and his face +assumed its habitual calm and firm appearance. + +"Well, what is it? From whom?" he asked immediately but without +hurry, blinking at the light. + +While listening to the officer's report Konovnitsyn broke the seal +and read the dispatch. Hardly had he done so before he lowered his +legs in their woolen stockings to the earthen floor and began +putting on his boots. Then he took off his nightcap, combed his hair +over his temples, and donned his cap. + +"Did you get here quickly? Let us go to his Highness." + +Konovnitsyn had understood at once that the news brought was of +great importance and that no time must be lost. He did not consider or +ask himself whether the news was good or bad. That did not interest +him. He regarded the whole business of the war not with his +intelligence or his reason but by something else. There was within him +a deep unexpressed conviction that all would be well, but that one +must not trust to this and still less speak about it, but must only +attend to one's own work. And he did his work, giving his whole +strength to the task. + +Peter Petrovich Konovnitsyn, like Dokhturov, seems to have been +included merely for propriety's sake in the list of the so-called +heroes of 1812--the Barclays, Raevskis, Ermolovs, Platovs, and +Miloradoviches. Like Dokhturov he had the reputation of being a man of +very limited capacity and information, and like Dokhturov he never +made plans of battle but was always found where the situation was most +difficult. Since his appointment as general on duty he had always +slept with his door open, giving orders that every messenger should be +allowed to wake him up. In battle he was always under fire, so that +Kutuzov reproved him for it and feared to send him to the front, and +like Dokhturov he was one of those unnoticed cogwheels that, without +clatter or noise, constitute the most essential part of the machine. + +Coming out of the hut into the damp, dark night Konovnitsyn +frowned--partly from an increased pain in his head and partly at the +unpleasant thought that occurred to him, of how all that nest of +influential men on the staff would be stirred up by this news, +especially Bennigsen, who ever since Tarutino had been at daggers +drawn with Kutuzov; and how they would make suggestions, quarrel, +issue orders, and rescind them. And this premonition was disagreeable +to him though he knew it could not be helped. + +And in fact Toll, to whom he went to communicate the news, +immediately began to expound his plans to a general sharing his +quarters, until Konovnitsyn, who listened in weary silence, reminded +him that they must go to see his Highness. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Kutuzov like all old people did not sleep much at night. He often +fell asleep unexpectedly in the daytime, but at night, lying on his +bed without undressing, he generally remained awake thinking. + +So he lay now on his bed, supporting his large, heavy, scarred +head on his plump hand, with his one eye open, meditating and +peering into the darkness. + +Since Bennigsen, who corresponded with the Emperor and had more +influence than anyone else on the staff, had begun to avoid him, +Kutuzov was more at ease as to the possibility of himself and his +troops being obliged to take part in useless aggressive movements. The +lesson of the Tarutino battle and of the day before it, which +Kutuzov remembered with pain, must, he thought, have some effect on +others too. + +"They must understand that we can only lose by taking the offensive. +Patience and time are my warriors, my champions," thought Kutuzov. +He knew that an apple should not be plucked while it is green. It will +fall of itself when ripe, but if picked unripe the apple is spoiled, +the tree is harmed, and your teeth are set on edge. Like an +experienced sportsman he knew that the beast was wounded, and +wounded as only the whole strength of Russia could have wounded it, +but whether it was mortally wounded or not was still an undecided +question. Now by the fact of Lauriston and Barthelemi having been +sent, and by the reports of the guerrillas, Kutuzov was almost sure +that the wound was mortal. But he needed further proofs and it was +necessary to wait. + +"They want to run to see how they have wounded it. Wait and we shall +see! Continual maneuvers, continual advances!" thought he. "What +for? Only to distinguish themselves! As if fighting were fun. They are +like children from whom one can't get any sensible account of what has +happened because they all want to show how well they can fight. But +that's not what is needed now. + +"And what ingenious maneuvers they all propose to me! It seems to +them that when they have thought of two or three contingencies" (he +remembered the general plan sent him from Petersburg) "they have +foreseen everything. But the contingencies are endless." + +The undecided question as to whether the wound inflicted at Borodino +was mortal or not had hung over Kutuzov's head for a whole month. On +the one hand the French had occupied Moscow. On the other Kutuzov felt +assured with all his being that the terrible blow into which he and +all the Russians had put their whole strength must have been mortal. +But in any case proofs were needed; he had waited a whole month for +them and grew more impatient the longer he waited. Lying on his bed +during those sleepless nights he did just what he reproached those +younger generals for doing. He imagined all sorts of possible +contingencies, just like the younger men, but with this difference, +that he saw thousands of contingencies instead of two or three and +based nothing on them. The longer he thought the more contingencies +presented themselves. He imagined all sorts of movements of the +Napoleonic army as a whole or in sections--against Petersburg, or +against him, or to outflank him. He thought too of the possibility +(which he feared most of all) that Napoleon might fight him with his +own weapon and remain in Moscow awaiting him. Kutuzov even imagined +that Napoleon's army might turn back through Medyn and Yukhnov, but +the one thing he could not foresee was what happened--the insane, +convulsive stampede of Napoleon's army during its first eleven days +after leaving Moscow: a stampede which made possible what Kutuzov +had not yet even dared to think of--the complete extermination of +the French. Dorokhov's report about Broussier's division, the +guerrillas' reports of distress in Napoleon's army, rumors of +preparations for leaving Moscow, all confirmed the supposition that +the French army was beaten and preparing for flight. But these were +only suppositions, which seemed important to the younger men but not +to Kutuzov. With his sixty years' experience he knew what value to +attach to rumors, knew how apt people who desire anything are to group +all news so that it appears to confirm what they desire, and he knew +how readily in such cases they omit all that makes for the contrary. +And the more he desired it the less he allowed himself to believe +it. This question absorbed all his mental powers. All else was to +him only life's customary routine. To such customary routine +belonged his conversations with the staff, the letters he wrote from +Tarutino to Madame de Stael, the reading of novels, the distribution +of awards, his correspondence with Petersburg, and so on. But the +destruction of the French, which he alone foresaw, was his heart's one +desire. + +On the night of the eleventh of October he lay leaning on his arm +and thinking of that. + +There was a stir in the next room and he heard the steps of Toll, +Konovnitsyn, and Bolkhovitinov. + +"Eh, who's there? Come in, come in! What news?" the field marshal +called out to them. + +While a footman was lighting a candle, Toll communicated the +substance of the news. + +"Who brought it?" asked Kutuzov with a look which, when the candle +was lit, struck Toll by its cold severity. + +"There can be no doubt about it, your Highness." + +"Call him in, call him here." + +Kutuzov sat up with one leg hanging down from the bed and his big +paunch resting against the other which was doubled under him. He +screwed up his seeing eye to scrutinize the messenger more +carefully, as if wishing to read in his face what preoccupied his +own mind. + +"Tell me, tell me, friend," said he to Bolkhovitinov in his low, +aged voice, as he pulled together the shirt which gaped open on his +chest, "come nearer--nearer. What news have you brought me? Eh? That +Napoleon has left Moscow? Are you sure? Eh?" + +Bolkhovitinov gave a detailed account from the beginning of all he +had been told to report. + +"Speak quicker, quicker! Don't torture me!" Kutuzov interrupted him. + +Bolkhovitinov told him everything and was then silent, awaiting +instructions. Toll was beginning to say something but Kutuzov +checked him. He tried to say something, but his face suddenly puckered +and wrinkled; he waved his arm at Toll and turned to the opposite side +of the room, to the corner darkened by the icons that hung there. + +"O Lord, my Creator, Thou has heard our prayer..." said he in a +tremulous voice with folded hands. "Russia is saved. I thank Thee, O +Lord!" and he wept. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +From the time he received this news to the end of the campaign all +Kutuzov's activity was directed toward restraining his troops, by +authority, by guile, and by entreaty, from useless attacks, maneuvers, +or encounters with the perishing enemy. Dokhturov went to +Malo-Yaroslavets, but Kutuzov lingered with the main army and gave +orders for the evacuation of Kaluga--a retreat beyond which town +seemed to him quite possible. + +Everywhere Kutuzov retreated, but the enemy without waiting for +his retreat fled in the opposite direction. + +Napoleon's historians describe to us his skilled maneuvers at +Tarutino and Malo-Yaroslavets, and make conjectures as to what would +have happened had Napoleon been in time to penetrate into the rich +southern provinces. + +But not to speak of the fact that nothing prevented him from +advancing into those southern provinces (for the Russian army did +not bar his way), the historians forget that nothing could have +saved his army, for then already it bore within itself the germs of +inevitable ruin. How could that army--which had found abundant +supplies in Moscow and had trampled them underfoot instead of +keeping them, and on arriving at Smolensk had looted provisions +instead of storing them--how could that army recuperate in Kaluga +province, which was inhabited by Russians such as those who lived in +Moscow, and where fire had the same property of consuming what was set +ablaze? + +That army could not recover anywhere. Since the battle of Borodino +and the pillage of Moscow it had borne within itself, as it were, +the chemical elements of dissolution. + +The members of what had once been an army--Napoleon himself and +all his soldiers fled--without knowing whither, each concerned only to +make his escape as quickly as possible from this position, of the +hopelessness of which they were all more or less vaguely conscious. + +So it came about that at the council at Malo-Yaroslavets, when the +generals pretending to confer together expressed various opinions, all +mouths were closed by the opinion uttered by the simple-minded soldier +Mouton who, speaking last, said what they all felt: that the one thing +needful was to get away as quickly as possible; and no one, not even +Napoleon, could say anything against that truth which they all +recognized. + +But though they all realized that it was necessary to get away, +there still remained a feeling of shame at admitting that they must +flee. An external shock was needed to overcome that shame, and this +shock came in due time. It was what the French called "le hourra de +l'Empereur." + +The day after the council at Malo-Yaroslavets Napoleon rode out +early in the morning amid the lines of his army with his suite of +marshals and an escort, on the pretext of inspecting the army and +the scene of the previous and of the impending battle. Some Cossacks +on the prowl for booty fell in with the Emperor and very nearly +captured him. If the Cossacks did not capture Napoleon then, what +saved him was the very thing that was destroying the French army, +the booty on which the Cossacks fell. Here as at Tarutino they went +after plunder, leaving the men. Disregarding Napoleon they rushed +after the plunder and Napoleon managed to escape. + +When les enfants du Don might so easily have taken the Emperor +himself in the midst of his army, it was clear that there was +nothing for it but to fly as fast as possible along the nearest, +familiar road. Napoleon with his forty-year-old stomach understood +that hint, not feeling his former agility and boldness, and under +the influence of the fright the Cossacks had given him he at once +agreed with Mouton and issued orders--as the historians tell us--to +retreat by the Smolensk road. + +That Napoleon agreed with Mouton, and that the army retreated, +does not prove that Napoleon caused it to retreat, but that the forces +which influenced the whole army and directed it along the Mozhaysk +(that is, the Smolensk) road acted simultaneously on him also. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +A man in motion always devises an aim for that motion. To be able to +go a thousand miles he must imagine that something good awaits him +at the end of those thousand miles. One must have the prospect of a +promised land to have the strength to move. + +The promised land for the French during their advance had been +Moscow, during their retreat it was their native land. But that native +land was too far off, and for a man going a thousand miles it is +absolutely necessary to set aside his final goal and to say to +himself: "Today I shall get to a place twenty-five miles off where I +shall rest and spend the night," and during the first day's journey +that resting place eclipses his ultimate goal and attracts all his +hopes and desires. And the impulses felt by a single person are always +magnified in a crowd. + +For the French retreating along the old Smolensk road, the final +goal--their native land--was too remote, and their immediate goal +was Smolensk, toward which all their desires and hopes, enormously +intensified in the mass, urged them on. It was not that they knew that +much food and fresh troops awaited them in Smolensk, nor that they +were told so (on the contrary their superior officers, and Napoleon +himself, knew that provisions were scarce there), but because this +alone could give them strength to move on and endure their present +privations. So both those who knew and those who did not know deceived +themselves, and pushed on to Smolensk as to a promised land. + +Coming out onto the highroad the French fled with surprising +energy and unheard-of rapidity toward the goal they had fixed on. +Besides the common impulse which bound the whole crowd of French +into one mass and supplied them with a certain energy, there was +another cause binding them together--their great numbers. As with +the physical law of gravity, their enormous mass drew the individual +human atoms to itself. In their hundreds of thousands they moved +like a whole nation. + +Each of them desired nothing more than to give himself up as a +prisoner to escape from all this horror and misery; but on the one +hand the force of this common attraction to Smolensk, their goal, drew +each of them in the same direction; on the other hand an army corps +could not surrender to a company, and though the French availed +themselves of every convenient opportunity to detach themselves and to +surrender on the slightest decent pretext, such pretexts did not +always occur. Their very numbers and their crowded and swift +movement deprived them of that possibility and rendered it not only +difficult but impossible for the Russians to stop this movement, to +which the French were directing all their energies. Beyond a certain +limit no mechanical disruption of the body could hasten the process of +decomposition. + +A lump of snow cannot be melted instantaneously. There is a +certain limit of time in less than which no amount of heat can melt +the snow. On the contrary the greater the heat the more solidified the +remaining snow becomes. + +Of the Russian commanders Kutuzov alone understood this. When the +flight of the French army along the Smolensk road became well defined, +what Konovnitsyn had foreseen on the night of the eleventh of +October began to occur. The superior officers all wanted to +distinguish themselves, to cut off, to seize, to capture, and to +overthrow the French, and all clamored for action. + +Kutuzov alone used all his power (and such power is very limited +in the case of any commander in chief) to prevent an attack. + +He could not tell them what we say now: "Why fight, why block the +road, losing our own men and inhumanly slaughtering unfortunate +wretches? What is the use of that, when a third of their army has +melted away on the road from Moscow to Vyazma without any battle?" But +drawing from his aged wisdom what they could understand, he told +them of the golden bridge, and they laughed at and slandered him, +flinging themselves on, rending and exulting over the dying beast. + +Ermolov, Miloradovich, Platov, and others in proximity to the French +near Vyazma could not resist their desire to cut off and break up +two French corps, and by way of reporting their intention to Kutuzov +they sent him a blank sheet of paper in an envelope. + +And try as Kutuzov might to restrain the troops, our men attacked, +trying to bar the road. Infantry regiments, we are told, advanced to +the attack with music and with drums beating, and killed and lost +thousands of men. + +But they did not cut off or overthrow anybody and the French army, +closing up more firmly at the danger, continued, while steadily +melting away, to pursue its fatal path to Smolensk. + + + + + +BOOK FOURTEEN: 1812 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The Battle of Borodino, with the occupation of Moscow that +followed it and the flight of the French without further conflicts, is +one of the most instructive phenomena in history. + +All historians agree that the external activity of states and +nations in their conflicts with one another is expressed in wars, +and that as a direct result of greater or less success in war the +political strength of states and nations increases or decreases. + +Strange as may be the historical account of how some king or emperor, +having quarreled with another, collects an army, fights his enemy's +army, gains a victory by killing three, five, or ten thousand men, and +subjugates a kingdom and an entire nation of several millions, all the +facts of history (as far as we know it) confirm the truth of the +statement that the greater or lesser success of one army against +another is the cause, or at least an essential indication, of an +increase or decrease in the strength of the nation--even though it is +unintelligible why the defeat of an army--a hundredth part of a +nation--should oblige that whole nation to submit. An army gains a +victory, and at once the rights of the conquering nation have +increased to the detriment of the defeated. An army has suffered +defeat, and at once a people loses its rights in proportion to the +severity of the reverse, and if its army suffers a complete defeat the +nation is quite subjugated. + +So according to history it has been found from the most ancient +times, and so it is to our own day. All Napoleon's wars serve to +confirm this rule. In proportion to the defeat of the Austrian army +Austria loses its rights, and the rights and the strength of France +increase. The victories of the French at Jena and Auerstadt destroy +the independent existence of Prussia. + +But then, in 1812, the French gain a victory near Moscow. Moscow +is taken and after that, with no further battles, it is not Russia +that ceases to exist, but the French army of six hundred thousand, and +then Napoleonic France itself. To strain the facts to fit the rules of +history: to say that the field of battle at Borodino remained in the +hands of the Russians, or that after Moscow there were other battles +that destroyed Napoleon's army, is impossible. + +After the French victory at Borodino there was no general engagement +nor any that were at all serious, yet the French army ceased to exist. +What does this mean? If it were an example taken from the history of +China, we might say that it was not an historic phenomenon (which is +the historians' usual expedient when anything does not fit their +standards); if the matter concerned some brief conflict in which +only a small number of troops took part, we might treat it as an +exception; but this event occurred before our fathers' eyes, and for +them it was a question of the life or death of their fatherland, and +it happened in the greatest of all known wars. + +The period of the campaign of 1812 from the battle of Borodino to +the expulsion of the French proved that the winning of a battle does +not produce a conquest and is not even an invariable indication of +conquest; it proved that the force which decides the fate of peoples +lies not in the conquerors, nor even in armies and battles, but in +something else. + +The French historians, describing the condition of the French army +before it left Moscow, affirm that all was in order in the Grand Army, +except the cavalry, the artillery, and the transport--there was no +forage for the horses or the cattle. That was a misfortune no one +could remedy, for the peasants of the district burned their hay rather +than let the French have it. + +The victory gained did not bring the usual results because the +peasants Karp and Vlas (who after the French had evacuated Moscow +drove in their carts to pillage the town, and in general personally +failed to manifest any heroic feelings), and the whole innumerable +multitude of such peasants, did not bring their hay to Moscow for +the high price offered them, but burned it instead. + +Let us imagine two men who have come out to fight a duel with +rapiers according to all the rules of the art of fencing. The +fencing has gone on for some time; suddenly one of the combatants, +feeling himself wounded and understanding that the matter is no joke +but concerns his life, throws down his rapier, and seizing the first +cudgel that comes to hand begins to brandish it. Then let us imagine +that the combatant who so sensibly employed the best and simplest +means to attain his end was at the same time influenced by +traditions of chivalry and, desiring to conceal the facts of the case, +insisted that he had gained his victory with the rapier according to +all the rules of art. One can imagine what confusion and obscurity +would result from such an account of the duel. + +The fencer who demanded a contest according to the rules of +fencing was the French army; his opponent who threw away the rapier +and snatched up the cudgel was the Russian people; those who try to +explain the matter according to the rules of fencing are the +historians who have described the event. + +After the burning of Smolensk a war began which did not follow any +previous traditions of war. The burning of towns and villages, the +retreats after battles, the blow dealt at Borodino and the renewed +retreat, the burning of Moscow, the capture of marauders, the +seizure of transports, and the guerrilla war were all departures +from the rules. + +Napoleon felt this, and from the time he took up the correct fencing +attitude in Moscow and instead of his opponent's rapier saw a cudgel +raised above his head, he did not cease to complain to Kutuzov and +to the Emperor Alexander that the war was being carried on contrary to +all the rules--as if there were any rules for killing people. In spite +of the complaints of the French as to the nonobservance of the +rules, in spite of the fact that to some highly placed Russians it +seemed rather disgraceful to fight with a cudgel and they wanted to +assume a pose en quarte or en tierce according to all the rules, and +to make an adroit thrust en prime, and so on--the cudgel of the +people's war was lifted with all its menacing and majestic strength, +and without consulting anyone's tastes or rules and regardless of +anything else, it rose and fell with stupid simplicity, but +consistently, and belabored the French till the whole invasion had +perished. + +And it is well for a people who do not--as the French did in 1813--salute +according to all the rules of art, and, presenting the hilt of their +rapier gracefully and politely, hand it to their magnanimous conqueror, +but at the moment of trial, without asking what rules others have adopted +in similar cases, simply and easily pick up the first cudgel that comes to +hand and strike with it till the feeling of resentment and revenge in +their soul yields to a feeling of contempt and compassion. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +One of the most obvious and advantageous departures from the +so-called laws of war is the action of scattered groups against men +pressed together in a mass. Such action always occurs in wars that +take on a national character. In such actions, instead of two crowds +opposing each other, the men disperse, attack singly, run away when +attacked by stronger forces, but again attack when opportunity offers. +This was done by the guerrillas in Spain, by the mountain tribes in +the Caucasus, and by the Russians in 1812. + +People have called this kind of war "guerrilla warfare" and assume +that by so calling it they have explained its meaning. But such a +war does not fit in under any rule and is directly opposed to a +well-known rule of tactics which is accepted as infallible. That +rule says that an attacker should concentrate his forces in order to +be stronger than his opponent at the moment of conflict. + +Guerrilla war (always successful, as history shows) directly +infringes that rule. + +This contradiction arises from the fact that military science +assumes the strength of an army to be identical with its numbers. +Military science says that the more troops the greater the strength. +Les gros bataillons ont toujours raison.* + + +*Large battalions are always victorious. + + +For military science to say this is like defining momentum in +mechanics by reference to the mass only: stating that momenta are +equal or unequal to each other simply because the masses involved +are equal or unequal. + +Momentum (quantity of motion) is the product of mass and velocity. + +In military affairs the strength of an army is the product of its +mass and some unknown x. + +Military science, seeing in history innumerable instances of the +fact that the size of any army does not coincide with its strength and +that small detachments defeat larger ones, obscurely admits the +existence of this unknown factor and tries to discover it--now in a +geometric formation, now in the equipment employed, now, and most +usually, in the genius of the commanders. But the assignment of +these various meanings to the factor does not yield results which +accord with the historic facts. + +Yet it is only necessary to abandon the false view (adopted to +gratify the "heroes") of the efficacy of the directions issued in +wartime by commanders, in order to find this unknown quantity. + +That unknown quantity is the spirit of the army, that is to say, the +greater or lesser readiness to fight and face danger felt by all the +men composing an army, quite independently of whether they are, or are +not, fighting under the command of a genius, in two--or three-line +formation, with cudgels or with rifles that repeat thirty times a +minute. Men who want to fight will always put themselves in the most +advantageous conditions for fighting. + +The spirit of an army is the factor which multiplied by the mass +gives the resulting force. To define and express the significance of +this unknown factor--the spirit of an army--is a problem for science. + +This problem is only solvable if we cease arbitrarily to +substitute for the unknown x itself the conditions under which that +force becomes apparent--such as the commands of the general, the +equipment employed, and so on--mistaking these for the real +significance of the factor, and if we recognize this unknown +quantity in its entirety as being the greater or lesser desire to +fight and to face danger. Only then, expressing known historic facts +by equations and comparing the relative significance of this factor, +can we hope to define the unknown. + +Ten men, battalions, or divisions, fighting fifteen men, battalions, +or divisions, conquer--that is, kill or take captive--all the +others, while themselves losing four, so that on the one side four and +on the other fifteen were lost. Consequently the four were equal to +the fifteen, and therefore 4x = 15y. Consequently x/y = 15/4. This +equation does not give us the value of the unknown factor but gives us +a ratio between two unknowns. And by bringing variously selected +historic units (battles, campaigns, periods of war) into such +equations, a series of numbers could be obtained in which certain laws +should exist and might be discovered. + +The tactical rule that an army should act in masses when +attacking, and in smaller groups in retreat, unconsciously confirms +the truth that the strength of an army depends on its spirit. To +lead men forward under fire more discipline (obtainable only by +movement in masses) is needed than is needed to resist attacks. But +this rule which leaves out of account the spirit of the army +continually proves incorrect and is in particularly striking +contrast to the facts when some strong rise or fall in the spirit of +the troops occurs, as in all national wars. + +The French, retreating in 1812--though according to tactics they should +have separated into detachments to defend themselves--congregated into a +mass because the spirit of the army had so fallen that only the mass +held the army together. The Russians, on the contrary, ought according +to tactics to have attacked in mass, but in fact they split up into +small units, because their spirit had so risen that separate +individuals, without orders, dealt blows at the French without needing +any compulsion to induce them to expose themselves to hardships and +dangers. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The so-called partisan war began with the entry of the French into +Smolensk. + +Before partisan warfare had been officially recognized by the +government, thousands of enemy stragglers, marauders, and foragers had +been destroyed by the Cossacks and the peasants, who killed them off +as instinctively as dogs worry a stray mad dog to death. Denis +Davydov, with his Russian instinct, was the first to recognize the +value of this terrible cudgel which regardless of the rules of +military science destroyed the French, and to him belongs the credit +for taking the first step toward regularizing this method of warfare. + +On August 24 Davydov's first partisan detachment was formed and then +others were recognized. The further the campaign progressed the more +numerous these detachments became. + +The irregulars destroyed the great army piecemeal. They gathered the +fallen leaves that dropped of themselves from that withered tree--the +French army--and sometimes shook that tree itself. By October, when +the French were fleeing toward Smolensk, there were hundreds of such +companies, of various sizes and characters. There were some that +adopted all the army methods and had infantry, artillery, staffs, and +the comforts of life. Others consisted solely of Cossack cavalry. +There were also small scratch groups of foot and horse, and groups of +peasants and landowners that remained unknown. A sacristan commanded +one party which captured several hundred prisoners in the course of a +month; and there was Vasilisa, the wife of a village elder, who slew +hundreds of the French. + +The partisan warfare flamed up most fiercely in the latter days of +October. Its first period had passed: when the partisans themselves, +amazed at their own boldness, feared every minute to be surrounded and +captured by the French, and hid in the forests without unsaddling, +hardly daring to dismount and always expecting to be pursued. By the +end of October this kind of warfare had taken definite shape: it had +become clear to all what could be ventured against the French and what +could not. Now only the commanders of detachments with staffs, and +moving according to rules at a distance from the French, still +regarded many things as impossible. The small bands that had started +their activities long before and had already observed the French +closely considered things possible which the commanders of the big +detachments did not dare to contemplate. The Cossacks and peasants who +crept in among the French now considered everything possible. + +On October 22, Denisov (who was one of the irregulars) was with his +group at the height of the guerrilla enthusiasm. Since early morning +he and his party had been on the move. All day long he had been +watching from the forest that skirted the highroad a large French +convoy of cavalry baggage and Russian prisoners separated from the +rest of the army, which--as was learned from spies and prisoners--was +moving under a strong escort to Smolensk. Besides Denisov and Dolokhov +(who also led a small party and moved in Denisov's vicinity), the +commanders of some large divisions with staffs also knew of this +convoy and, as Denisov expressed it, were sharpening their teeth for +it. Two of the commanders of large parties--one a Pole and the other a +German--sent invitations to Denisov almost simultaneously, requesting +him to join up with their divisions to attack the convoy. + +"No, bwother, I have gwown mustaches myself," said Denisov on +reading these documents, and he wrote to the German that, despite +his heartfelt desire to serve under so valiant and renowned a general, +he had to forgo that pleasure because he was already under the command +of the Polish general. To the Polish general he replied to the same +effect, informing him that he was already under the command of the +German. + +Having arranged matters thus, Denisov and Dolokhov intended, without +reporting matters to the higher command, to attack and seize that +convoy with their own small forces. On October 22 it was moving from +the village of Mikulino to that of Shamshevo. To the left of the road +between Mikulino and Shamshevo there were large forests, extending in +some places up to the road itself though in others a mile or more back +from it. Through these forests Denisov and his party rode all day, +sometimes keeping well back in them and sometimes coming to the very +edge, but never losing sight of the moving French. That morning, +Cossacks of Denisov's party had seized and carried off into the forest +two wagons loaded with cavalry saddles, which had stuck in the mud not +far from Mikulino where the forest ran close to the road. Since then, +and until evening, the party had watched the movements of the French +without attacking. It was necessary to let the French reach Shamshevo +quietly without alarming them and then, after joining Dolokhov who was +to come that evening to a consultation at a watchman's hut in the +forest less than a mile from Shamshevo, to surprise the French at +dawn, falling like an avalanche on their heads from two sides, and +rout and capture them all at one blow. + +In their rear, more than a mile from Mikulino where the forest +came right up to the road, six Cossacks were posted to report if any +fresh columns of French should show themselves. + +Beyond Shamshevo, Dolokhov was to observe the road in the same +way, to find out at what distance there were other French troops. They +reckoned that the convoy had fifteen hundred men. Denisov had two +hundred, and Dolokhov might have as many more, but the disparity of +numbers did not deter Denisov. All that he now wanted to know was what +troops these were and to learn that he had to capture a "tongue"--that +is, a man from the enemy column. That morning's attack on the wagons +had been made so hastily that the Frenchmen with the wagons had all +been killed; only a little drummer boy had been taken alive, and as he +was a straggler he could tell them nothing definite about the troops +in that column. + +Denisov considered it dangerous to make a second attack for fear +of putting the whole column on the alert, so he sent Tikhon +Shcherbaty, a peasant of his party, to Shamshevo to try and seize at +least one of the French quartermasters who had been sent on in +advance. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It was a warm rainy autumn day. The sky and the horizon were both +the color of muddy water. At times a sort of mist descended, and +then suddenly heavy slanting rain came down. + +Denisov in a felt cloak and a sheepskin cap from which the rain +ran down was riding a thin thoroughbred horse with sunken sides. +Like his horse, which turned its head and laid its ears back, he +shrank from the driving rain and gazed anxiously before him. His +thin face with its short, thick black beard looked angry. + +Beside Denisov rode an esaul,* Denisov's fellow worker, also in felt +cloak and sheepskin cap, and riding a large sleek Don horse. + + +*A captain of Cossacks. + + +Esaul Lovayski the Third was a tall man as straight as an arrow, +pale-faced, fair-haired, with narrow light eyes and with calm +self-satisfaction in his face and bearing. Though it was impossible to +say in what the peculiarity of the horse and rider lay, yet at first +glance at the esaul and Denisov one saw that the latter was wet and +uncomfortable and was a man mounted on a horse, while looking at the +esaul one saw that he was as comfortable and as much at ease as always +and that he was not a man who had mounted a horse, but a man who was +one with his horse, a being consequently possessed of twofold +strength. + +A little ahead of them walked a peasant guide, wet to the skin and +wearing a gray peasant coat and a white knitted cap. + +A little behind, on a poor, small, lean Kirghiz mount with an +enormous tail and mane and a bleeding mouth, rode a young officer in a +blue French overcoat. + +Beside him rode an hussar, with a boy in a tattered French uniform +and blue cap behind him on the crupper of his horse. The boy held on +to the hussar with cold, red hands, and raising his eyebrows gazed +about him with surprise. This was the French drummer boy captured that +morning. + +Behind them along the narrow, sodden, cutup forest road came hussars +in threes and fours, and then Cossacks: some in felt cloaks, some in +French greatcoats, and some with horsecloths over their heads. The +horses, being drenched by the rain, all looked black whether +chestnut or bay. Their necks, with their wet, close-clinging manes, +looked strangely thin. Steam rose from them. Clothes, saddles, +reins, were all wet, slippery, and sodden, like the ground and the +fallen leaves that strewed the road. The men sat huddled up trying not +to stir, so as to warm the water that had trickled to their bodies and +not admit the fresh cold water that was leaking in under their +seats, their knees, and at the back of their necks. In the midst of +the outspread line of Cossacks two wagons, drawn by French horses +and by saddled Cossack horses that had been hitched on in front, +rumbled over the tree stumps and branches and splashed through the +water that lay in the ruts. + +Denisov's horse swerved aside to avoid a pool in the track and +bumped his rider's knee against a tree. + +"Oh, the devil!" exclaimed Denisov angrily, and showing his teeth he +struck his horse three times with his whip, splashing himself and +his comrades with mud. + +Denisov was out of sorts both because of the rain and also from +hunger (none of them had eaten anything since morning), and yet more +because he still had no news from Dolokhov and the man sent to capture +a "tongue" had not returned. + +"There'll hardly be another such chance to fall on a transport as +today. It's too risky to attack them by oneself, and if we put it +off till another day one of the big guerrilla detachments will +snatch the prey from under our noses," thought Denisov, continually +peering forward, hoping to see a messenger from Dolokhov. + +On coming to a path in the forest along which he could see far to +the right, Denisov stopped. + +"There's someone coming," said he. + +The esaul looked in the direction Denisov indicated. + +"There are two, an officer and a Cossack. But it is not +presupposable that it is the lieutenant colonel himself," said the +esaul, who was fond of using words the Cossacks did not know. + +The approaching riders having descended a decline were no longer +visible, but they reappeared a few minutes later. In front, at a weary +gallop and using his leather whip, rode an officer, disheveled and +drenched, whose trousers had worked up to above his knees. Behind him, +standing in the stirrups, trotted a Cossack. The officer, a very young +lad with a broad rosy face and keen merry eyes, galloped up to Denisov +and handed him a sodden envelope. + +"From the general," said the officer. "Please excuse its not being +quite dry." + +Denisov, frowning, took the envelope and opened it. + +"There, they kept telling us: 'It's dangerous, it's dangerous,'" +said the officer, addressing the esaul while Denisov was reading the +dispatch. "But Komarov and I"--he pointed to the Cossack--"were +prepared. We have each of us two pistols.... But what's this?" he +asked, noticing the French drummer boy. "A prisoner? You've already +been in action? May I speak to him?" + +"Wostov! Petya!" exclaimed Denisov, having run through the dispatch. +"Why didn't you say who you were?" and turning with a smile he held +out his hand to the lad. + +The officer was Petya Rostov. + +All the way Petya had been preparing himself to behave with +Denisov as befitted a grownup man and an officer--without hinting at +their previous acquaintance. But as soon as Denisov smiled at him +Petya brightened up, blushed with pleasure, forgot the official manner +he had been rehearsing, and began telling him how he had already +been in a battle near Vyazma and how a certain hussar had +distinguished himself there. + +"Well, I am glad to see you," Denisov interrupted him, and his +face again assumed its anxious expression. + +"Michael Feoklitych," said he to the esaul, "this is again fwom that +German, you know. He"--he indicated Petya--"is serving under him." + +And Denisov told the esaul that the dispatch just delivered was a +repetition of the German general's demand that he should join forces +with him for an attack on the transport. + +"If we don't take it tomowwow, he'll snatch it fwom under our +noses," he added. + +While Denisov was talking to the esaul, Petya--abashed by +Denisov's cold tone and supposing that it was due to the condition +of his trousers--furtively tried to pull them down under his greatcoat +so that no one should notice it, while maintaining as martial an air +as possible. + +"Will there be any orders, your honor?" he asked Denisov, holding +his hand at the salute and resuming the game of adjutant and general +for which he had prepared himself, "or shall I remain with your +honor?" + +"Orders?" Denisov repeated thoughtfully. "But can you stay till +tomowwow?" + +"Oh, please... May I stay with you?" cried Petya. + +"But, just what did the genewal tell you? To weturn at once?" +asked Denisov. + +Petya blushed. + +"He gave me no instructions. I think I could?" he returned, +inquiringly. + +"Well, all wight," said Denisov. + +And turning to his men he directed a party to go on to the halting +place arranged near the watchman's hut in the forest, and told the +officer on the Kirghiz horse (who performed the duties of an adjutant) +to go and find out where Dolokhov was and whether he would come that +evening. Denisov himself intended going with the esaul and Petya to +the edge of the forest where it reached out to Shamshevo, to have a +look at the part of the French bivouac they were to attack next day. + +"Well, old fellow," said he to the peasant guide, "lead us to +Shamshevo." + +Denisov, Petya, and the esaul, accompanied by some Cossacks and +the hussar who had the prisoner, rode to the left across a ravine to +the edge of the forest. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The rain had stopped, and only the mist was falling and drops from +the trees. Denisov, the esaul, and Petya rode silently, following +the peasant in the knitted cap who, stepping lightly with outturned +toes and moving noiselessly in his bast shoes over the roots and wet +leaves, silently led them to the edge of the forest. + +He ascended an incline, stopped, looked about him, and advanced to +where the screen of trees was less dense. On reaching a large oak tree +that had not yet shed its leaves, he stopped and beckoned mysteriously +to them with his hand. + +Denisov and Petya rode up to him. From the spot where the peasant +was standing they could see the French. Immediately beyond the forest, +on a downward slope, lay a field of spring rye. To the right, beyond a +steep ravine, was a small village and a landowner's house with a +broken roof. In the village, in the house, in the garden, by the well, +by the pond, over all the rising ground, and all along the road uphill +from the bridge leading to the village, not more than five hundred +yards away, crowds of men could be seen through the shimmering mist. +Their un-Russian shouting at their horses which were straining +uphill with the carts, and their calls to one another, could be +clearly heard. + +"Bwing the prisoner here," said Denisov in a low voice, not taking +his eyes off the French. + +A Cossack dismounted, lifted the boy down, and took him to +Denisov. Pointing to the French troops, Denisov asked him what these +and those of them were. The boy, thrusting his cold hands into his +pockets and lifting his eyebrows, looked at Denisov in affright, but +in spite of an evident desire to say all he knew gave confused +answers, merely assenting to everything Denisov asked him. Denisov +turned away from him frowning and addressed the esaul, conveying his +own conjectures to him. + +Petya, rapidly turning his head, looked now at the drummer boy, +now at Denisov, now at the esaul, and now at the French in the village +and along the road, trying not to miss anything of importance. + +"Whether Dolokhov comes or not, we must seize it, eh?" said +Denisov with a merry sparkle in his eyes. + +"It is a very suitable spot," said the esaul. + +"We'll send the infantwy down by the swamps," Denisov continued. +"They'll cweep up to the garden; you'll wide up fwom there with the +Cossacks"--he pointed to a spot in the forest beyond the village--"and +I with my hussars fwom here. And at the signal shot..." + +"The hollow is impassable--there's a swamp there," said the esaul. +"The horses would sink. We must ride round more to the left...." + +While they were talking in undertones the crack of a shot sounded +from the low ground by the pond, a puff of white smoke appeared, +then another, and the sound of hundreds of seemingly merry French +voices shouting together came up from the slope. For a moment +Denisov and the esaul drew back. They were so near that they thought +they were the cause of the firing and shouting. But the firing and +shouting did not relate to them. Down below, a man wearing something +red was running through the marsh. The French were evidently firing +and shouting at him. + +"Why, that's our Tikhon," said the esaul. + +"So it is! It is!" + +"The wascal!" said Denisov. + +"He'll get away!" said the esaul, screwing up his eyes. + +The man whom they called Tikhon, having run to the stream, plunged +in so that the water splashed in the air, and, having disappeared +for an instant, scrambled out on all fours, all black with the wet, +and ran on. The French who had been pursuing him stopped. + +"Smart, that!" said the esaul. + +"What a beast!" said Denisov with his former look of vexation. "What +has he been doing all this time?" + +"Who is he?" asked Petya. + +"He's our plastun. I sent him to capture a 'tongue.'" + +"Oh, yes," said Petya, nodding at the first words Denisov uttered as +if he understood it all, though he really did not understand +anything of it. + +Tikhon Shcherbaty was one of the most indispensable men in their +band. He was a peasant from Pokrovsk, near the river Gzhat. When +Denisov had come to Pokrovsk at the beginning of his operations and +had as usual summoned the village elder and asked him what he knew +about the French, the elder, as though shielding himself, had replied, +as all village elders did, that he had neither seen nor heard anything +of them. But when Denisov explained that his purpose was to kill the +French, and asked if no French had strayed that way, the elder replied +that some "more-orderers" had really been at their village, but that +Tikhon Shcherbaty was the only man who dealt with such matters. +Denisov had Tikhon called and, having praised him for his activity, +said a few words in the elder's presence about loyalty to the Tsar and +the country and the hatred of the French that all sons of the +fatherland should cherish. + +"We don't do the French any harm," said Tikhon, evidently frightened +by Denisov's words. "We only fooled about with the lads for fun, you +know! We killed a score or so of 'more-orderers,' but we did no harm +else..." + +Next day when Denisov had left Pokrovsk, having quite forgotten +about this peasant, it was reported to him that Tikhon had attached +himself to their party and asked to be allowed to remain with it. +Denisov gave orders to let him do so. + +Tikhon, who at first did rough work, laying campfires, fetching +water, flaying dead horses, and so on, soon showed a great liking +and aptitude for partisan warfare. At night he would go out for +booty and always brought back French clothing and weapons, and when +told to would bring in French captives also. Denisov then relieved him +from drudgery and began taking him with him when he went out on +expeditions and had him enrolled among the Cossacks. + +Tikhon did not like riding, and always went on foot, never lagging +behind the cavalry. He was armed with a musketoon (which he carried +rather as a joke), a pike and an ax, which latter he used as a wolf +uses its teeth, with equal case picking fleas out of its fur or +crunching thick bones. Tikhon with equal accuracy would split logs +with blows at arm's length, or holding the head of the ax would cut +thin little pegs or carve spoons. In Denisov's party he held a +peculiar and exceptional position. When anything particularly +difficult or nasty had to be done--to push a cart out of the mud +with one's shoulders, pull a horse out of a swamp by its tail, skin +it, slink in among the French, or walk more than thirty miles in a +day--everybody pointed laughingly at Tikhon. + +"It won't hurt that devil--he's as strong as a horse!" they said +of him. + +Once a Frenchman Tikhon was trying to capture fired a pistol at him +and shot him in the fleshy part of the back. That wound (which Tikhon +treated only with internal and external applications of vodka) was the +subject of the liveliest jokes by the whole detachment--jokes in which +Tikhon readily joined. + +"Hallo, mate! Never again? Gave you a twist?" the Cossacks would +banter him. And Tikhon, purposely writhing and making faces, pretended +to be angry and swore at the French with the funniest curses. The only +effect of this incident on Tikhon was that after being wounded he +seldom brought in prisoners. + +He was the bravest and most useful man in the party. No one found +more opportunities for attacking, no one captured or killed more +Frenchmen, and consequently he was made the buffoon of all the +Cossacks and hussars and willingly accepted that role. Now he had been +sent by Denisov overnight to Shamshevo to capture a "tongue." But +whether because he had not been content to take only one Frenchman +or because he had slept through the night, he had crept by day into +some bushes right among the French and, as Denisov had witnessed +from above, had been detected by them. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +After talking for some time with the esaul about next day's +attack, which now, seeing how near they were to the French, he +seemed to have definitely decided on, Denisov turned his horse and +rode back. + +"Now, my lad, we'll go and get dwy," he said to Petya. + +As they approached the watchhouse Denisov stopped, peering into the +forest. Among the trees a man with long legs and long, swinging arms, +wearing a short jacket, bast shoes, and a Kazan hat, was approaching +with long, light steps. He had a musketoon over his shoulder and an ax +stuck in his girdle. When he espied Denisov he hastily threw something +into the bushes, removed his sodden hat by its floppy brim, and +approached his commander. It was Tikhon. His wrinkled and pockmarked +face and narrow little eyes beamed with self-satisfied merriment. He +lifted his head high and gazed at Denisov as if repressing a laugh. + +"Well, where did you disappear to?" inquired Denisov. + +"Where did I disappear to? I went to get Frenchmen," answered Tikhon +boldly and hurriedly, in a husky but melodious bass voice. + +"Why did you push yourself in there by daylight? You ass! Well, +why haven't you taken one?" + +"Oh, I took one all right," said Tikhon. + +"Where is he?" + +"You see, I took him first thing at dawn," Tikhon continued, +spreading out his flat feet with outturned toes in their bast shoes. +"I took him into the forest. Then I see he's no good and think I'll go +and fetch a likelier one." + +"You see?... What a wogue--it's just as I thought," said Denisov +to the esaul. "Why didn't you bwing that one?" + +"What was the good of bringing him?" Tikhon interrupted hastily +and angrily--"that one wouldn't have done for you. As if I don't +know what sort you want!" + +"What a bwute you are!... Well?" + +"I went for another one," Tikhon continued, "and I crept like this +through the wood and lay down." (He suddenly lay down on his stomach +with a supple movement to show how he had done it.) "One turned up and +I grabbed him, like this." (He jumped up quickly and lightly.) +"'Come along to the colonel,' I said. He starts yelling, and +suddenly there were four of them. They rushed at me with their +little swords. So I went for them with my ax, this way: 'What are +you up to?' says I. 'Christ be with you!'" shouted Tikhon, waving +his arms with an angry scowl and throwing out his chest. + +"Yes, we saw from the hill how you took to your heels through the +puddles!" said the esaul, screwing up his glittering eyes. + +Petya badly wanted to laugh, but noticed that they all refrained +from laughing. He turned his eyes rapidly from Tikhon's face to the +esaul's and Denisov's, unable to make out what it all meant. + +"Don't play the fool!" said Denisov, coughing angrily. "Why didn't +you bwing the first one?" + +Tikhon scratched his back with one hand and his head with the other, +then suddenly his whole face expanded into a beaming, foolish grin, +disclosing a gap where he had lost a tooth (that was why he was called +Shcherbaty--the gap-toothed). Denisov smiled, and Petya burst into a +peal of merry laughter in which Tikhon himself joined. + +"Oh, but he was a regular good-for-nothing," said Tikhon. "The +clothes on him--poor stuff! How could I bring him? And so rude, your +honor! Why, he says: 'I'm a general's son myself, I won't go!' he +says." + +"You are a bwute!" said Denisov. "I wanted to question..." + +"But I questioned him," said Tikhon. "He said he didn't know much. +'There are a lot of us,' he says, 'but all poor stuff--only soldiers +in name,' he says. 'Shout loud at them,' he says, 'and you'll take +them all,'" Tikhon concluded, looking cheerfully and resolutely into +Denisov's eyes. + +"I'll give you a hundwed sharp lashes--that'll teach you to play the +fool!" said Denisov severely. + +"But why are you angry?" remonstrated Tikhon, "just as if I'd +never seen your Frenchmen! Only wait till it gets dark and I'll +fetch you any of them you want--three if you like." + +"Well, let's go," said Denisov, and rode all the way to the +watchhouse in silence and frowning angrily. + +Tikhon followed behind and Petya heard the Cossacks laughing with +him and at him, about some pair of boots he had thrown into the +bushes. + +When the fit of laughter that had seized him at Tikhon's words and +smile had passed and Petya realized for a moment that this Tikhon +had killed a man, he felt uneasy. He looked round at the captive +drummer boy and felt a pang in his heart. But this uneasiness lasted +only a moment. He felt it necessary to hold his head higher, to +brace himself, and to question the esaul with an air of importance +about tomorrow's undertaking, that he might not be unworthy of the +company in which he found himself. + +The officer who had been sent to inquire met Denisov on the way with +the news that Dolokhov was soon coming and that all was well with him. + +Denisov at once cheered up and, calling Petya to him, said: "Well, +tell me about yourself." + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Petya, having left his people after their departure from Moscow, +joined his regiment and was soon taken as orderly by a general +commanding a large guerrilla detachment. From the time he received his +commission, and especially since he had joined the active army and +taken part in the battle of Vyazma, Petya had been in a constant state +of blissful excitement at being grown-up and in a perpetual ecstatic +hurry not to miss any chance to do something really heroic. He was +highly delighted with what he saw and experienced in the army, but +at the same time it always seemed to him that the really heroic +exploits were being performed just where he did not happen to be. +And he was always in a hurry to get where he was not. + +When on the twenty-first of October his general expressed a wish +to send somebody to Denisov's detachment, Petya begged so piteously to +be sent that the general could not refuse. But when dispatching him he +recalled Petya's mad action at the battle of Vyazma, where instead +of riding by the road to the place to which he had been sent, he had +galloped to the advanced line under the fire of the French and had +there twice fired his pistol. So now the general explicitly forbade +his taking part in any action whatever of Denisov's. That was why +Petya had blushed and grown confused when Denisov asked him whether he +could stay. Before they had ridden to the outskirts of the forest +Petya had considered he must carry out his instructions strictly and +return at once. But when he saw the French and saw Tikhon and +learned that there would certainly be an attack that night, he +decided, with the rapidity with which young people change their views, +that the general, whom he had greatly respected till then, was a +rubbishy German, that Denisov was a hero, the esaul a hero, and Tikhon +a hero too, and that it would be shameful for him to leave them at a +moment of difficulty. + +It was already growing dusk when Denisov, Petya, and the esaul +rode up to the watchhouse. In the twilight saddled horses could be +seen, and Cossacks and hussars who had rigged up rough shelters in the +glade and were kindling glowing fires in a hollow of the forest +where the French could not see the smoke. In the passage of the +small watchhouse a Cossack with sleeves rolled up was chopping some +mutton. In the room three officers of Denisov's band were converting a +door into a tabletop. Petya took off his wet clothes, gave them to +be dried, and at once began helping the officers to fix up the +dinner table. + +In ten minutes the table was ready and a napkin spread on it. On the +table were vodka, a flask of rum, white bread, roast mutton, and salt. + +Sitting at table with the officers and tearing the fat savory mutton +with his hands, down which the grease trickled, Petya was in an +ecstatic childish state of love for all men, and consequently of +confidence that others loved him in the same way. + +"So then what do you think, Vasili Dmitrich?" said he to Denisov. +"It's all right my staying a day with you?" And not waiting for a +reply he answered his own question: "You see I was told to find +out--well, I am finding out.... Only do let me into the very... into +the chief... I don't want a reward... But I want..." + +Petya clenched his teeth and looked around, throwing back his head +and flourishing his arms. + +"Into the vewy chief..." Denisov repeated with a smile. + +"Only, please let me command something, so that I may really +command..." Petya went on. "What would it be to you?... Oh, you want a +knife?" he said, turning to an officer who wished to cut himself a +piece of mutton. + +And he handed him his clasp knife. The officer admired it. + +"Please keep it. I have several like it," said Petya, blushing. +"Heavens! I was quite forgetting!" he suddenly cried. "I have some +raisins, fine ones; you know, seedless ones. We have a new sutler +and he has such capital things. I bought ten pounds. I am used to +something sweet. Would you like some?..." and Petya ran out into the +passage to his Cossack and brought back some bags which contained +about five pounds of raisins. "Have some, gentlemen, have some!" + +"You want a coffeepot, don't you?" he asked the esaul. "I bought a +capital one from our sutler! He has splendid things. And he's very +honest, that's the chief thing. I'll be sure to send it to you. Or +perhaps your flints are giving out, or are worn out--that happens +sometimes, you know. I have brought some with me, here they are"--and +he showed a bag--"a hundred flints. I bought them very cheap. Please +take as many as you want, or all if you like...." + +Then suddenly, dismayed lest he had said too much, Petya stopped and +blushed. + +He tried to remember whether he had not done anything else that +was foolish. And running over the events of the day he remembered +the French drummer boy. "It's capital for us here, but what of him? +Where have they put him? Have they fed him? Haven't they hurt his +feelings?" he thought. But having caught himself saying too much about +the flints, he was now afraid to speak out. + +"I might ask," he thought, "but they'll say: 'He's a boy himself and +so he pities the boy.' I'll show them tomorrow whether I'm a boy. Will +it seem odd if I ask?" Petya thought. "Well, never mind!" and +immediately, blushing and looking anxiously at the officers to see +if they appeared ironical, he said: + +"May I call in that boy who was taken prisoner and give him +something to eat?... Perhaps..." + +"Yes, he's a poor little fellow," said Denisov, who evidently saw +nothing shameful in this reminder. "Call him in. His name is Vincent +Bosse. Have him fetched." + +"I'll call him," said Petya. + +"Yes, yes, call him. A poor little fellow," Denisov repeated. + +Petya was standing at the door when Denisov said this. He slipped in +between the officers, came close to Denisov, and said: + +"Let me kiss you, dear old fellow! Oh, how fine, how splendid!" + +And having kissed Denisov he ran out of the hut. + +"Bosse! Vincent!" Petya cried, stopping outside the door. + +"Who do you want, sir?" asked a voice in the darkness. + +Petya replied that he wanted the French lad who had been captured +that day. + +"Ah, Vesenny?" said a Cossack. + +Vincent, the boy's name, had already been changed by the Cossacks +into Vesenny (vernal) and into Vesenya by the peasants and soldiers. +In both these adaptations the reference to spring (vesna) matched +the impression made by the young lad. + +"He is warming himself there by the bonfire. Ho, Vesenya! +Vesenya!--Vesenny!" laughing voices were heard calling to one +another in the darkness. + +"He's a smart lad," said an hussar standing near Petya. "We gave him +something to eat a while ago. He was awfully hungry!" + +The sound of bare feet splashing through the mud was heard in the +darkness, and the drummer boy came to the door. + +"Ah, c'est vous!" said Petya. "Voulez-vous manger? N'ayez pas +peur, on ne vous fera pas de mal,"* he added shyly and affectionately, +touching the boy's hand. "Entrez, entrez."*[2] + + +*"Ah, it's you! Do you want something to eat? Don't be afraid, +they won't hurt you." + +*[2] "Come in, come in." + + +"Merci, monsieur,"* said the drummer boy in a trembling almost +childish voice, and he began scraping his dirty feet on the threshold. + + +*"Thank you, sir." + + +There were many things Petya wanted to say to the drummer boy, but +did not dare to. He stood irresolutely beside him in the passage. Then +in the darkness he took the boy's hand and pressed it. + +"Come in, come in!" he repeated in a gentle whisper. "Oh, what can I +do for him?" he thought, and opening the door he let the boy pass in +first. + +When the boy had entered the hut, Petya sat down at a distance +from him, considering it beneath his dignity to pay attention to +him. But he fingered the money in his pocket and wondered whether it +would seem ridiculous to give some to the drummer boy. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The arrival of Dolokhov diverted Petya's attention from the +drummer boy, to whom Denisov had had some mutton and vodka given, +and whom he had had dressed in a Russian coat so that he might be kept +with their band and not sent away with the other prisoners. Petya +had heard in the army many stories of Dolokhov's extraordinary bravery +and of his cruelty to the French, so from the moment he entered the +hut Petya did not take his eyes from him, but braced himself up more +and more and held his head high, that he might not be unworthy even of +such company. + +Dolokhov's appearance amazed Petya by its simplicity. + +Denisov wore a Cossack coat, had a beard, had an icon of Nicholas +the Wonder-Worker on his breast, and his way of speaking and +everything he did indicated his unusual position. But Dolokhov, who in +Moscow had worn a Persian costume, had now the appearance of a most +correct officer of the Guards. He was clean-shaven and wore a +Guardsman's padded coat with an Order of St. George at his +buttonhole and a plain forage cap set straight on his head. He took +off his wet felt cloak in a corner of the room, and without greeting +anyone went up to Denisov and began questioning him about the matter +in hand. Denisov told him of the designs the large detachments had +on the transport, of the message Petya had brought, and his own +replies to both generals. Then he told him all he knew of the French +detachment. + +"That's so. But we must know what troops they are and their +numbers," said Dolokhov. "It will be necessary to go there. We can't +start the affair without knowing for certain how many there are. I +like to work accurately. Here now--wouldn't one of these gentlemen +like to ride over to the French camp with me? I have brought a spare +uniform." + +"I, I... I'll go with you!" cried Petya. + +"There's no need for you to go at all," said Denisov, addressing +Dolokhov, "and as for him, I won't let him go on any account." + +"I like that!" exclaimed Petya. "Why shouldn't I go?" + +"Because it's useless." + +"Well, you must excuse me, because... because... I shall go, and +that's all. You'll take me, won't you?" he said, turning to Dolokhov. + +"Why not?" Dolokhov answered absently, scrutinizing the face of +the French drummer boy. "Have you had that youngster with you long?" +he asked Denisov. + +"He was taken today but he knows nothing. I'm keeping him with me." + +"Yes, and where do you put the others?" inquired Dolokhov. + +"Where? I send them away and take a weceipt for them," shouted +Denisov, suddenly flushing. "And I say boldly that I have not a single +man's life on my conscience. Would it be difficult for you to send +thirty or thwee hundwed men to town under escort, instead of +staining--I speak bluntly--staining the honor of a soldier?" + +"That kind of amiable talk would be suitable from this young count +of sixteen," said Dolokhov with cold irony, "but it's time for you +to drop it." + +"Why, I've not said anything! I only say that I'll certainly go with +you," said Petya shyly. + +"But for you and me, old fellow, it's time to drop these amenities," +continued Dolokhov, as if he found particular pleasure in speaking +of this subject which irritated Denisov. "Now, why have you kept +this lad?" he went on, swaying his head. "Because you are sorry for +him! Don't we know those 'receipts' of yours? You send a hundred men +away, and thirty get there. The rest either starve or get killed. So +isn't it all the same not to send them?" + +The esaul, screwing up his light-colored eyes, nodded approvingly. + +"That's not the point. I'm not going to discuss the matter. I do not +wish to take it on my conscience. You say they'll die. All wight. Only +not by my fault!" + +Dolokhov began laughing. + +"Who has told them not to capture me these twenty times over? But if +they did catch me they'd string me up to an aspen tree, and with all +your chivalry just the same." He paused. "However, we must get to +work. Tell the Cossack to fetch my kit. I have two French uniforms +in it. Well, are you coming with me?" he asked Petya. + +"I? Yes, yes, certainly!" cried Petya, blushing almost to tears +and glancing at Denisov. + +While Dolokhov had been disputing with Denisov what should be done +with prisoners, Petya had once more felt awkward and restless; but +again he had no time to grasp fully what they were talking about. +"If grown-up, distinguished men think so, it must be necessary and +right," thought he. "But above all Denisov must not dare to imagine +that I'll obey him and that he can order me about. I will certainly go +to the French camp with Dolokhov. If he can, so can I!" + +And to all Denisov's persuasions, Petya replied that he too was +accustomed to do everything accurately and not just anyhow, and that +he never considered personal danger. + +"For you'll admit that if we don't know for sure how many of them +there are... hundreds of lives may depend on it, while there are +only two of us. Besides, I want to go very much and certainly will go, +so don't hinder me," said he. "It will only make things worse..." + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Having put on French greatcoats and shakos, Petya and Dolokhov +rode to the clearing from which Denisov had reconnoitered the French +camp, and emerging from the forest in pitch darkness they descended +into the hollow. On reaching the bottom, Dolokhov told the Cossacks +accompanying him to await him there and rode on at a quick trot +along the road to the bridge. Petya, his heart in his mouth with +excitement, rode by his side. + +"If we're caught, I won't be taken alive! I have a pistol," +whispered he. + +"Don't talk Russian," said Dolokhov in a hurried whisper, and at +that very moment they heard through the darkness the challenge: "Qui +vive?"* and the click of a musket. + + +*"Who goes there?" + + +The blood rushed to Petya's face and he grasped his pistol. + +"Lanciers du 6-me,"* replied Dolokhov, neither hastening nor +slackening his horse's pace. + + +*"Lancers of the 6th Regiment." + + +The black figure of a sentinel stood on the bridge. + +"Mot d'ordre."* + + +*"Password." + + +Dolokhov reined in his horse and advanced at a walk. + +"Dites donc, le colonel Gerard est ici?"* he asked. + + +*"Tell me, is Colonel Gerard here?" + + +"Mot d'ordre," repeated the sentinel, barring the way and not +replying. + +"Quand un officier fait sa ronde, les sentinelles ne demandent pas +le mot d'ordre..." cried Dolokhov suddenly flaring up and riding +straight at the sentinel. "Je vous demande si le colonel est ici."* + + +*"When an officer is making his round, sentinels don't ask him for +the password.... I am asking you if the colonel is here." + + +And without waiting for an answer from the sentinel, who had stepped +aside, Dolokhov rode up the incline at a walk. + +Noticing the black outline of a man crossing the road, Dolokhov +stopped him and inquired where the commander and officers were. The +man, a soldier with a sack over his shoulder, stopped, came close up +to Dolokhov's horse, touched it with his hand, and explained simply +and in a friendly way that the commander and the officers were +higher up the hill to the right in the courtyard of the farm, as he +called the landowner's house. + +Having ridden up the road, on both sides of which French talk +could be heard around the campfires, Dolokhov turned into the +courtyard of the landowner's house. Having ridden in, he dismounted +and approached a big blazing campfire, around which sat several men +talking noisily. Something was boiling in a small cauldron at the edge +of the fire and a soldier in a peaked cap and blue overcoat, lit up by +the fire, was kneeling beside it stirring its contents with a ramrod. + +"Oh, he's a hard nut to crack," said one of the officers who was +sitting in the shadow at the other side of the fire. + +"He'll make them get a move on, those fellows!" said another, +laughing. + +Both fell silent, peering out through the darkness at the sound of +Dolokhov's and Petya's steps as they advanced to the fire leading +their horses. + +"Bonjour, messieurs!"* said Dolokhov loudly and clearly. + + +*"Good day, gentlemen." + + +There was a stir among the officers in the shadow beyond the fire, +and one tall, long-necked officer, walking round the fire, came up +to Dolokhov. + +"Is that you, Clement?" he asked. "Where the devil...?" But, noticing +his mistake, he broke off short and, with a frown, greeted Dolokhov as +a stranger, asking what he could do for him. + +Dolokhov said that he and his companion were trying to overtake +their regiment, and addressing the company in general asked whether +they knew anything of the 6th Regiment. None of them knew anything, +and Petya thought the officers were beginning to look at him and +Dolokhov with hostility and suspicion. For some seconds all were +silent. + +"If you were counting on the evening soup, you have come too +late," said a voice from behind the fire with a repressed laugh. + +Dolokhov replied that they were not hungry and must push on +farther that night. + +He handed the horses over to the soldier who was stirring the pot +and squatted down on his heels by the fire beside the officer with the +long neck. That officer did not take his eyes from Dolokhov and +again asked to what regiment he belonged. Dolokhov, as if he had not +heard the question, did not reply, but lighting a short French pipe +which he took from his pocket began asking the officer in how far +the road before them was safe from Cossacks. + +"Those brigands are everywhere," replied an officer from behind +the fire. + +Dolokhov remarked that the Cossacks were a danger only to stragglers +such as his companion and himself, "but probably they would not dare +to attack large detachments?" he added inquiringly. No one replied. + +"Well, now he'll come away," Petya thought every moment as he +stood by the campfire listening to the talk. + +But Dolokhov restarted the conversation which had dropped and +began putting direct questions as to how many men there were in the +battalion, how many battalions, and how many prisoners. Asking about +the Russian prisoners with that detachment, Dolokhov said: + +"A horrid business dragging these corpses about with one! It would +be better to shoot such rabble," and burst into loud laughter, so +strange that Petya thought the French would immediately detect their +disguise, and involuntarily took a step back from the campfire. + +No one replied a word to Dolokhov's laughter, and a French officer +whom they could not see (he lay wrapped in a greatcoat) rose and +whispered something to a companion. Dolokhov got up and called to +the soldier who was holding their horses. + +"Will they bring our horses or not?" thought Petya, instinctively +drawing nearer to Dolokhov. + +The horses were brought. + +"Good evening, gentlemen," said Dolokhov. + +Petya wished to say "Good night" but could not utter a word. The +officers were whispering together. Dolokhov was a long time mounting +his horse which would not stand still, then he rode out of the yard at +a footpace. Petya rode beside him, longing to look round to see +whether or not the French were running after them, but not daring to. + +Coming out onto the road Dolokhov did not ride back across the +open country, but through the village. At one spot he stopped and +listened. "Do you hear?" he asked. Petya recognized the sound of +Russian voices and saw the dark figures of Russian prisoners round +their campfires. When they had descended to the bridge Petya and +Dolokhov rode past the sentinel, who without saying a word paced +morosely up and down it, then they descended into the hollow where the +Cossacks awaited them. + +"Well now, good-by. Tell Denisov, 'at the first shot at +daybreak,'" said Dolokhov and was about to ride away, but Petya seized +hold of him. + +"Really!" he cried, "you are such a hero! Oh, how fine, how +splendid! How I love you!" + +"All right, all right!" said Dolokhov. But Petya did not let go of +him and Dolokhov saw through the gloom that Petya was bending toward +him and wanted to kiss him. Dolokhov kissed him, laughed, turned his +horse, and vanished into the darkness. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Having returned to the watchman's hut, Petya found Denisov in the +passage. He was awaiting Petya's return in a state of agitation, +anxiety, and self-reproach for having let him go. + +"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "Yes, thank God!" he repeated, +listening to Petya's rapturous account. "But, devil take you, I +haven't slept because of you! Well, thank God. Now lie down. We can +still get a nap before morning." + +"But... no," said Petya, "I don't want to sleep yet. Besides I +know myself, if I fall asleep it's finished. And then I am used to not +sleeping before a battle." + +He sat awhile in the hut joyfully recalling the details of his +expedition and vividly picturing to himself what would happen next +day. + +Then, noticing that Denisov was asleep, he rose and went out of +doors. + +It was still quite dark outside. The rain was over, but drops were +still falling from the trees. Near the watchman's hut the black shapes +of the Cossacks' shanties and of horses tethered together could be +seen. Behind the hut the dark shapes of the two wagons with their +horses beside them were discernible, and in the hollow the dying +campfire gleamed red. Not all the Cossacks and hussars were asleep; +here and there, amid the sounds of falling drops and the munching of +the horses near by, could be heard low voices which seemed to be +whispering. + +Petya came out, peered into the darkness, and went up to the wagons. +Someone was snoring under them, and around them stood saddled horses +munching their oats. In the dark Petya recognized his own horse, which +he called "Karabakh" though it was of Ukranian breed, and went up to +it. + +"Well, Karabakh! We'll do some service tomorrow," said he, +sniffing its nostrils and kissing it. + +"Why aren't you asleep, sir?" said a Cossack who was sitting under a +wagon. + +"No, ah... Likhachev--isn't that your name? Do you know I have +only just come back! We've been into the French camp." + +And Petya gave the Cossack a detailed account not only of his ride +but also of his object, and why he considered it better to risk his +life than to act "just anyhow." + +"Well, you should get some sleep now," said the Cossack. + +"No, I am used to this," said Petya. "I say, aren't the flints in +your pistols worn out? I brought some with me. Don't you want any? You +can have some." + +The Cossack bent forward from under the wagon to get a closer look +at Petya. + +"Because I am accustomed to doing everything accurately," said +Petya. "Some fellows do things just anyhow, without preparation, and +then they're sorry for it afterwards. I don't like that." + +"Just so," said the Cossack. + +"Oh yes, another thing! Please, my dear fellow, will you sharpen +my saber for me? It's got bl..." (Petya feared to tell a lie, and +the saber never had been sharpened.) "Can you do it?" + +"Of course I can." + +Likhachev got up, rummaged in his pack, and soon Petya heard the +warlike sound of steel on whetstone. He climbed onto the wagon and sat +on its edge. The Cossack was sharpening the saber under the wagon. + +"I say! Are the lads asleep?" asked Petya. + +"Some are, and some aren't--like us." + +"Well, and that boy?" + +"Vesenny? Oh, he's thrown himself down there in the passage. Fast +asleep after his fright. He was that glad!" + +After that Petya remained silent for a long time, listening to the +sounds. He heard footsteps in the darkness and a black figure +appeared. + +"What are you sharpening?" asked a man coming up to the wagon. + +"Why, this gentleman's saber." + +"That's right," said the man, whom Petya took to be an hussar. +"Was the cup left here?" + +"There, by the wheel!" + +The hussar took the cup. + +"It must be daylight soon," said he, yawning, and went away. + +Petya ought to have known that he was in a forest with Denisov's +guerrilla band, less than a mile from the road, sitting on a wagon +captured from the French beside which horses were tethered, that under +it Likhachev was sitting sharpening a saber for him, that the big dark +blotch to the right was the watchman's hut, and the red blotch below +to the left was the dying embers of a campfire, that the man who had +come for the cup was an hussar who wanted a drink; but he neither knew +nor waited to know anything of all this. He was in a fairy kingdom +where nothing resembled reality. The big dark blotch might really be +the watchman's hut or it might be a cavern leading to the very +depths of the earth. Perhaps the red spot was a fire, or it might be +the eye of an enormous monster. Perhaps he was really sitting on a +wagon, but it might very well be that he was not sitting on a wagon +but on a terribly high tower from which, if he fell, he would have +to fall for a whole day or a whole month, or go on falling and never +reach the bottom. Perhaps it was just the Cossack, Likhachev, who +was sitting under the wagon, but it might be the kindest, bravest, +most wonderful, most splendid man in the world, whom no one knew of. +It might really have been that the hussar came for water and went back +into the hollow, but perhaps he had simply vanished--disappeared +altogether and dissolved into nothingness. + +Nothing Petya could have seen now would have surprised him. He was +in a fairy kingdom where everything was possible. + +He looked up at the sky. And the sky was a fairy realm like the +earth. It was clearing, and over the tops of the trees clouds were +swiftly sailing as if unveiling the stars. Sometimes it looked as if +the clouds were passing, and a clear black sky appeared. Sometimes +it seemed as if the black spaces were clouds. Sometimes the sky seemed +to be rising high, high overhead, and then it seemed to sink so low +that one could touch it with one's hand. + +Petya's eyes began to close and he swayed a little. + +The trees were dripping. Quiet talking was heard. The horses neighed +and jostled one another. Someone snored. + +"Ozheg-zheg, Ozheg-zheg..." hissed the saber against the whetstone, +and suddenly Petya heard an harmonious orchestra playing some unknown, +sweetly solemn hymn. Petya was as musical as Natasha and more so than +Nicholas, but had never learned music or thought about it, and so the +melody that unexpectedly came to his mind seemed to him particularly +fresh and attractive. The music became more and more audible. The +melody grew and passed from one instrument to another. And what was +played was a fugue--though Petya had not the least conception of what +a fugue is. Each instrument--now resembling a violin and now a horn, +but better and clearer than violin or horn--played its own part, and +before it had finished the melody merged with another instrument that +began almost the same air, and then with a third and a fourth; and +they all blended into one and again became separate and again blended, +now into solemn church music, now into something dazzlingly brilliant +and triumphant. + +"Oh--why, that was in a dream!" Petya said to himself, as he lurched +forward. "It's in my ears. But perhaps it's music of my own. Well, +go on, my music! Now!..." + +He closed his eyes, and, from all sides as if from a distance, +sounds fluttered, grew into harmonies, separated, blended, and again +all mingled into the same sweet and solemn hymn. "Oh, this is +delightful! As much as I like and as I like!" said Petya to himself. +He tried to conduct that enormous orchestra. + +"Now softly, softly die away!" and the sounds obeyed him. "Now +fuller, more joyful. Still more and more joyful!" And from an +unknown depth rose increasingly triumphant sounds. "Now voices join +in!" ordered Petya. And at first from afar he heard men's voices and +then women's. The voices grew in harmonious triumphant strength, and +Petya listened to their surpassing beauty in awe and joy. + +With a solemn triumphal march there mingled a song, the drip from +the trees, and the hissing of the saber, "Ozheg-zheg-zheg..." and +again the horses jostled one another and neighed, not disturbing the +choir but joining in it. + +Petya did not know how long this lasted: he enjoyed himself all +the time, wondered at his enjoyment and regretted that there was no +one to share it. He was awakened by Likhachev's kindly voice. + +"It's ready, your honor; you can split a Frenchman in half with it!" + +Petya woke up. + +"It's getting light, it's really getting light!" he exclaimed. + +The horses that had previously been invisible could now be seen to +their very tails, and a watery light showed itself through the bare +branches. Petya shook himself, jumped up, took a ruble from his pocket +and gave it to Likhachev; then he flourished the saber, tested it, and +sheathed it. The Cossacks were untying their horses and tightening +their saddle girths. + +"And here's the commander," said Likhachev. + +Denisov came out of the watchman's hut and, having called Petya, +gave orders to get ready. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +The men rapidly picked out their horses in the semidarkness, +tightened their saddle girths, and formed companies. Denisov stood +by the watchman's hut giving final orders. The infantry of the +detachment passed along the road and quickly disappeared amid the +trees in the mist of early dawn, hundreds of feet splashing through +the mud. The esaul gave some orders to his men. Petya held his horse +by the bridle, impatiently awaiting the order to mount. His face, +having been bathed in cold water, was all aglow, and his eyes were +particularly brilliant. Cold shivers ran down his spine and his +whole body pulsed rhythmically. + +"Well, is ev'wything weady?" asked Denisov. "Bwing the horses." + +The horses were brought. Denisov was angry with the Cossack +because the saddle girths were too slack, reproved him, and mounted. +Petya put his foot in the stirrup. His horse by habit made as if to +nip his leg, but Petya leaped quickly into the saddle unconscious of +his own weight and, turning to look at the hussars starting in the +darkness behind him, rode up to Denisov. + +"Vasili Dmitrich, entrust me with some commission! Please... for +God's sake...!" said he. + +Denisov seemed to have forgotten Petya's very existence. He turned +to glance at him. + +"I ask one thing of you," he said sternly, "to obey me and not shove +yourself forward anywhere." + +He did not say another word to Petya but rode in silence all the +way. When they had come to the edge of the forest it was noticeably +growing light over the field. Denisov talked in whispers with the +esaul and the Cossacks rode past Petya and Denisov. When they had +all ridden by, Denisov touched his horse and rode down the hill. +Slipping onto their haunches and sliding, the horses descended with +their riders into the ravine. Petya rode beside Denisov, the pulsation +of his body constantly increasing. It was getting lighter and lighter, +but the mist still hid distant objects. Having reached the valley, +Denisov looked back and nodded to a Cossack beside him. + +"The signal!" said he. + +The Cossack raised his arm and a shot rang out. In an instant the +tramp of horses galloping forward was heard, shouts came from +various sides, and then more shots. + +At the first sound of trampling hoofs and shouting, Petya lashed his +horse and loosening his rein galloped forward, not heeding Denisov who +shouted at him. It seemed to Petya that at the moment the shot was +fired it suddenly became as bright as noon. He galloped to the bridge. +Cossacks were galloping along the road in front of him. On the +bridge he collided with a Cossack who had fallen behind, but he +galloped on. In front of him soldiers, probably Frenchmen, were +running from right to left across the road. One of them fell in the +mud under his horse's feet. + +Cossacks were crowding about a hut, busy with something. From the +midst of that crowd terrible screams arose. Petya galloped up, and the +first thing he saw was the pale face and trembling jaw of a Frenchman, +clutching the handle of a lance that had been aimed at him. + +"Hurrah!... Lads!... ours!" shouted Petya, and giving rein to his +excited horse he galloped forward along the village street. + +He could hear shooting ahead of him. Cossacks, hussars, and ragged +Russian prisoners, who had come running from both sides of the road, +were shouting something loudly and incoherently. A gallant-looking +Frenchman, in a blue overcoat, capless, and with a frowning red +face, had been defending himself against the hussars. When Petya +galloped up the Frenchman had already fallen. "Too late again!" +flashed through Petya's mind and he galloped on to the place from +which the rapid firing could be heard. The shots came from the yard of +the landowner's house he had visited the night before with Dolokhov. +The French were making a stand there behind a wattle fence in a garden +thickly overgrown with bushes and were firing at the Cossacks who +crowded at the gateway. Through the smoke, as he approached the +gate, Petya saw Dolokhov, whose face was of a pale-greenish tint, +shouting to his men. "Go round! Wait for the infantry!" he exclaimed +as Petya rode up to him. + +"Wait?... Hurrah-ah-ah!" shouted Petya, and without pausing a moment +galloped to the place whence came the sounds of firing and where the +smoke was thickest. + +A volley was heard, and some bullets whistled past, while others +plashed against something. The Cossacks and Dolokhov galloped after +Petya into the gateway of the courtyard. In the dense wavering smoke +some of the French threw down their arms and ran out of the bushes +to meet the Cossacks, while others ran down the hill toward the +pond. Petya was galloping along the courtyard, but instead of +holding the reins he waved both his arms about rapidly and +strangely, slipping farther and farther to one side in his saddle. His +horse, having galloped up to a campfire that was smoldering in the +morning light, stopped suddenly, and Petya fell heavily on to the +wet ground. The Cossacks saw that his arms and legs jerked rapidly +though his head was quite motionless. A bullet had pierced his skull. + +After speaking to the senior French officer, who came out of the +house with a white handkerchief tied to his sword and announced that +they surrendered, Dolokhov dismounted and went up to Petya, who lay +motionless with outstretched arms. + +"Done for!" he said with a frown, and went to the gate to meet +Denisov who was riding toward him. + +"Killed?" cried Denisov, recognizing from a distance the +unmistakably lifeless attitude--very familiar to him--in which Petya's +body was lying. + +"Done for!" repeated Dolokhov as if the utterance of these words +afforded him pleasure, and he went quickly up to the prisoners, who +were surrounded by Cossacks who had hurried up. "We won't take +them!" he called out to Denisov. + +Denisov did not reply; he rode up to Petya, dismounted, and with +trembling hands turned toward himself the bloodstained, +mud-bespattered face which had already gone white. + +"I am used to something sweet. Raisins, fine ones... take them all!" +he recalled Petya's words. And the Cossacks looked round in surprise +at the sound, like the yelp of a dog, with which Denisov turned +away, walked to the wattle fence, and seized hold of it. + +Among the Russian prisoners rescued by Denisov and Dolokhov was +Pierre Bezukhov. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +During the whole of their march from Moscow no fresh orders had been +issued by the French authorities concerning the party of prisoners +among whom was Pierre. On the twenty-second of October that party +was no longer with the same troops and baggage trains with which it +had left Moscow. Half the wagons laden with hardtack that had traveled +the first stages with them had been captured by Cossacks, the other +half had gone on ahead. Not one of those dismounted cavalrymen who had +marched in front of the prisoners was left; they had all +disappeared. The artillery the prisoners had seen in front of them +during the first days was now replaced by Marshal Junot's enormous +baggage train, convoyed by Westphalians. Behind the prisoners came a +cavalry baggage train. + +From Vyazma onwards the French army, which had till then moved in +three columns, went on as a single group. The symptoms of disorder +that Pierre had noticed at their first halting place after leaving +Moscow had now reached the utmost limit. + +The road along which they moved was bordered on both sides by dead +horses; ragged men who had fallen behind from various regiments +continually changed about, now joining the moving column, now again +lagging behind it. + +Several times during the march false alarms had been given and the +soldiers of the escort had raised their muskets, fired, and run +headlong, crushing one another, but had afterwards reassembled and +abused each other for their causeless panic. + +These three groups traveling together--the cavalry stores, the +convoy of prisoners, and Junot's baggage train--still constituted a +separate and united whole, though each of the groups was rapidly +melting away. + +Of the artillery baggage train which had consisted of a hundred +and twenty wagons, not more than sixty now remained; the rest had been +captured or left behind. Some of Junot's wagons also had been captured +or abandoned. Three wagons had been raided and robbed by stragglers +from Davout's corps. From the talk of the Germans Pierre learned +that a larger guard had been allotted to that baggage train than to +the prisoners, and that one of their comrades, a German soldier, had +been shot by the marshal's own order because a silver spoon +belonging to the marshal had been found in his possession. + +The group of prisoners had melted away most of all. Of the three +hundred and thirty men who had set out from Moscow fewer than a +hundred now remained. The prisoners were more burdensome to the escort +than even the cavalry saddles or Junot's baggage. They understood that +the saddles and Junot's spoon might be of some use, but that cold +and hungry soldiers should have to stand and guard equally cold and +hungry Russians who froze and lagged behind on the road (in which case +the order was to shoot them) was not merely incomprehensible but +revolting. And the escort, as if afraid, in the grievous condition +they themselves were in, of giving way to the pity they felt for the +prisoners and so rendering their own plight still worse, treated +them with particular moroseness and severity. + +At Dorogobuzh while the soldiers of the convoy, after locking the +prisoners in a stable, had gone off to pillage their own stores, +several of the soldier prisoners tunneled under the wall and ran away, +but were recaptured by the French and shot. + +The arrangement adopted when they started, that the officer +prisoners should be kept separate from the rest, had long since been +abandoned. All who could walk went together, and after the third stage +Pierre had rejoined Karataev and the gray-blue bandy-legged dog that +had chosen Karataev for its master. + +On the third day after leaving Moscow Karataev again fell ill with +the fever he had suffered from in the hospital in Moscow, and as he +grew gradually weaker Pierre kept away from him. Pierre did not know +why, but since Karataev had begun to grow weaker it had cost him an +effort to go near him. When he did so and heard the subdued moaning +with which Karataev generally lay down at the halting places, and when +he smelled the odor emanating from him which was now stronger than +before, Pierre moved farther away and did not think about him. + +While imprisoned in the shed Pierre had learned not with his +intellect but with his whole being, by life itself, that man is +created for happiness, that happiness is within him, in the +satisfaction of simple human needs, and that all unhappiness arises +not from privation but from superfluity. And now during these last +three weeks of the march he had learned still another new, consolatory +truth--that nothing in this world is terrible. He had learned that +as there is no condition in which man can be happy and entirely +free, so there is no condition in which he need be unhappy and lack +freedom. He learned that suffering and freedom have their limits and +that those limits are very near together; that the person in a bed +of roses with one crumpled petal suffered as keenly as he now, +sleeping on the bare damp earth with one side growing chilled while +the other was warming; and that when he had put on tight dancing shoes +he had suffered just as he did now when he walked with bare feet +that were covered with sores--his footgear having long since fallen to +pieces. He discovered that when he had married his wife--of his own +free will as it had seemed to him--he had been no more free than now +when they locked him up at night in a stable. Of all that he himself +subsequently termed his sufferings, but which at the time he +scarcely felt, the worst was the state of his bare, raw, and +scab-covered feet. (The horseflesh was appetizing and nourishing, +the saltpeter flavor of the gunpowder they used instead of salt was +even pleasant; there was no great cold, it was always warm walking +in the daytime, and at night there were the campfires; the lice that +devoured him warmed his body.) The one thing that was at first hard to +bear was his feet. + +After the second day's march Pierre, having examined his feet by the +campfire, thought it would be impossible to walk on them; but when +everybody got up he went along, limping, and, when he had warmed up, +walked without feeling the pain, though at night his feet were more +terrible to look at than before. However, he did not look at them now, +but thought of other things. + +Only now did Pierre realize the full strength of life in man and the +saving power he has of transferring his attention from one thing to +another, which is like the safety valve of a boiler that allows +superfluous steam to blow off when the pressure exceeds a certain +limit. + +He did not see and did not hear how they shot the prisoners who +lagged behind, though more than a hundred perished in that way. He did +not think of Karataev who grew weaker every day and evidently would +soon have to share that fate. Still less did Pierre think about +himself. The harder his position became and the more terrible the +future, the more independent of that position in which he found +himself were the joyful and comforting thoughts, memories, and +imaginings that came to him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +At midday on the twenty-second of October Pierre was going uphill +along the muddy, slippery road, looking at his feet and at the +roughness of the way. Occasionally he glanced at the familiar crowd +around him and then again at his feet. The former and the latter +were alike familiar and his own. The blue-gray bandy legged dog ran +merrily along the side of the road, sometimes in proof of its +agility and self-satisfaction lifting one hind leg and hopping along +on three, and then again going on all four and rushing to bark at +the crows that sat on the carrion. The dog was merrier and sleeker +than it had been in Moscow. All around lay the flesh of different +animals--from men to horses--in various stages of decomposition; and +as the wolves were kept off by the passing men the dog could eat all +it wanted. + +It had been raining since morning and had seemed as if at any moment +it might cease and the sky clear, but after a short break it began +raining harder than before. The saturated road no longer absorbed +the water, which ran along the ruts in streams. + +Pierre walked along, looking from side to side, counting his steps +in threes, and reckoning them off on his fingers. Mentally +addressing the rain, he repeated: "Now then, now then, go on! Pelt +harder!" + +It seemed to him that he was thinking of nothing, but far down and +deep within him his soul was occupied with something important and +comforting. This something was a most subtle spiritual deduction +from a conversation with Karataev the day before. + +At their yesterday's halting place, feeling chilly by a dying +campfire, Pierre had got up and gone to the next one, which was +burning better. There Platon Karataev was sitting covered up--head and +all--with his greatcoat as if it were a vestment, telling the soldiers +in his effective and pleasant though now feeble voice a story Pierre +knew. It was already past midnight, the hour when Karataev was usually +free of his fever and particularly lively. When Pierre reached the +fire and heard Platon's voice enfeebled by illness, and saw his +pathetic face brightly lit up by the blaze, he felt a painful prick at +his heart. His feeling of pity for this man frightened him and he +wished to go away, but there was no other fire, and Pierre sat down, +trying not to look at Platon. + +"Well, how are you?" he asked. + +"How am I? If we grumble at sickness, God won't grant us death," +replied Platon, and at once resumed the story he had begun. + +"And so, brother," he continued, with a smile on his pale +emaciated face and a particularly happy light in his eyes, "you +see, brother..." + +Pierre had long been familiar with that story. Karataev had told +it to him alone some half-dozen times and always with a specially +joyful emotion. But well as he knew it, Pierre now listened to that +tale as to something new, and the quiet rapture Karataev evidently +felt as he told it communicated itself also to Pierre. The story was +of an old merchant who lived a good and God-fearing life with his +family, and who went once to the Nizhni fair with a companion--a +rich merchant. + +Having put up at an inn they both went to sleep, and next morning +his companion was found robbed and with his throat cut. A bloodstained +knife was found under the old merchant's pillow. He was tried, +knouted, and his nostrils having been torn off, "all in due form" as +Karataev put it, he was sent to hard labor in Siberia. + +"And so, brother" (it was at this point that Pierre came up), "ten +years or more passed by. The old man was living as a convict, +submitting as he should and doing no wrong. Only he prayed to God +for death. Well, one night the convicts were gathered just as we +are, with the old man among them. And they began telling what each was +suffering for, and how they had sinned against God. One told how he +had taken a life, another had taken two, a third had set a house on +fire, while another had simply been a vagrant and had done nothing. So +they asked the old man: 'What are you being punished for, Daddy?'--'I, +my dear brothers,' said he, 'am being punished for my own and other +men's sins. But I have not killed anyone or taken anything that was +not mine, but have only helped my poorer brothers. I was a merchant, +my dear brothers, and had much property. 'And he went on to tell +them all about it in due order. 'I don't grieve for myself,' he +says, 'God, it seems, has chastened me. Only I am sorry for my old +wife and the children,' and the old man began to weep. Now it happened +that in the group was the very man who had killed the other +merchant. 'Where did it happen, Daddy?' he said. 'When, and in what +month?' He asked all about it and his heart began to ache. So he comes +up to the old man like this, and falls down at his feet! 'You are +perishing because of me, Daddy,' he says. 'It's quite true, lads, that +this man,' he says, 'is being tortured innocently and for nothing! I,' +he says, 'did that deed, and I put the knife under your head while you +were asleep. Forgive me, Daddy,' he says, 'for Christ's sake!'" + +Karataev paused, smiling joyously as he gazed into the fire, and +he drew the logs together. + +"And the old man said, 'God will forgive you, we are all sinners +in His sight. I suffer for my own sins,' and he wept bitter tears. +Well, and what do you think, dear friends?" Karataev continued, his +face brightening more and more with a rapturous smile as if what he +now had to tell contained the chief charm and the whole meaning of his +story: "What do you think, dear fellows? That murderer confessed to +the authorities. 'I have taken six lives,' he says (he was a great +sinner), 'but what I am most sorry for is this old man. Don't let +him suffer because of me.' So he confessed and it was all written down +and the papers sent off in due form. The place was a long way off, and +while they were judging, what with one thing and another, filling in +the papers all in due form--the authorities I mean--time passed. The +affair reached the Tsar. After a while the Tsar's decree came: to +set the merchant free and give him a compensation that had been +awarded. The paper arrived and they began to look for the old man. +'Where is the old man who has been suffering innocently and in vain? A +paper has come from the Tsar!' so they began looking for him," here +Karataev's lower jaw trembled, "but God had already forgiven him--he +was dead! That's how it was, dear fellows!" Karataev concluded and sat +for a long time silent, gazing before him with a smile. + +And Pierre's soul was dimly but joyfully filled not by the story +itself but by its mysterious significance: by the rapturous joy that +lit up Karataev's face as he told it, and the mystic significance of +that joy. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +"A vos places!"* suddenly cried a voice. + + +*"To your places." + + +A pleasant feeling of excitement and an expectation of something +joyful and solemn was aroused among the soldiers of the convoy and the +prisoners. From all sides came shouts of command, and from the left +came smartly dressed cavalrymen on good horses, passing the +prisoners at a trot. The expression on all faces showed the tension +people feel at the approach of those in authority. The prisoners +thronged together and were pushed off the road. The convoy formed up. + +"The Emperor! The Emperor! The Marshal! The Duke!" and hardly had +the sleek cavalry passed, before a carriage drawn by six gray horses +rattled by. Pierre caught a glimpse of a man in a three-cornered hat +with a tranquil look on his handsome, plump, white face. It was one of +the marshals. His eye fell on Pierre's large and striking figure, +and in the expression with which he frowned and looked away Pierre +thought he detected sympathy and a desire to conceal that sympathy. + +The general in charge of the stores galloped after the carriage with +a red and frightened face, whipping up his skinny horse. Several +officers formed a group and some soldiers crowded round them. Their +faces all looked excited and worried. + +"What did he say? What did he say?" Pierre heard them ask. + +While the marshal was passing, the prisoners had huddled together in +a crowd, and Pierre saw Karataev whom he had not yet seen that +morning. He sat in his short overcoat leaning against a birch tree. On +his face, besides the look of joyful emotion it had worn yesterday +while telling the tale of the merchant who suffered innocently, +there was now an expression of quiet solemnity. + +Karataev looked at Pierre with his kindly round eyes now filled with +tears, evidently wishing him to come near that he might say +something to him. But Pierre was not sufficiently sure of himself. +He made as if he did not notice that look and moved hastily away. + +When the prisoners again went forward Pierre looked round. +Karataev was still sitting at the side of the road under the birch +tree and two Frenchmen were talking over his head. Pierre did not look +round again but went limping up the hill. + +From behind, where Karataev had been sitting, came the sound of a +shot. Pierre heard it plainly, but at that moment he remembered that +he had not yet finished reckoning up how many stages still remained to +Smolensk--a calculation he had begun before the marshal went by. And +he again started reckoning. Two French soldiers ran past Pierre, one +of whom carried a lowered and smoking gun. They both looked pale, +and in the expression on their faces--one of them glanced timidly at +Pierre--there was something resembling what he had seen on the face of +the young soldier at the execution. Pierre looked at the soldier and +remembered that, two days before, that man had burned his shirt +while drying it at the fire and how they had laughed at him. + +Behind him, where Karataev had been sitting, the dog began to +howl. "What a stupid beast! Why is it howling?" thought Pierre. + +His comrades, the prisoner soldiers walking beside him, avoided +looking back at the place where the shot had been fired and the dog +was howling, just as Pierre did, but there was a set look on all their +faces. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The stores, the prisoners, and the marshal's baggage train stopped +at the village of Shamshevo. The men crowded together round the +campfires. Pierre went up to the fire, ate some roast horseflesh, +lay down with his back to the fire, and immediately fell asleep. He +again slept as he had done at Mozhaysk after the battle of Borodino. + +Again real events mingled with dreams and again someone, he or +another, gave expression to his thoughts, and even to the same +thoughts that had been expressed in his dream at Mozhaysk. + +"Life is everything. Life is God. Everything changes and moves and +that movement is God. And while there is life there is joy in +consciousness of the divine. To love life is to love God. Harder and +more blessed than all else is to love this life in one's sufferings, +in innocent sufferings." + +"Karataev!" came to Pierre's mind. + +And suddenly he saw vividly before him a long-forgotten, kindly +old man who had given him geography lessons in Switzerland. "Wait a +bit," said the old man, and showed Pierre a globe. This globe was +alive--a vibrating ball without fixed dimensions. Its whole surface +consisted of drops closely pressed together, and all these drops moved +and changed places, sometimes several of them merging into one, +sometimes one dividing into many. Each drop tried to spread out and +occupy as much space as possible, but others striving to do the same +compressed it, sometimes destroyed it, and sometimes merged with it. + +"That is life," said the old teacher. + +"How simple and clear it is," thought Pierre. "How is it I did not +know it before?" + +"God is in the midst, and each drop tries to expand so as to reflect +Him to the greatest extent. And it grows, merges, disappears from +the surface, sinks to the depths, and again emerges. There now, +Karataev has spread out and disappeared. Do you understand, my child?" +said the teacher. + +"Do you understand, damn you?" shouted a voice, and Pierre woke up. + +He lifted himself and sat up. A Frenchman who had just pushed a +Russian soldier away was squatting by the fire, engaged in roasting +a piece of meat stuck on a ramrod. His sleeves were rolled up and +his sinewy, hairy, red hands with their short fingers deftly turned +the ramrod. His brown morose face with frowning brows was clearly +visible by the glow of the charcoal. + +"It's all the same to him," he muttered, turning quickly to a +soldier who stood behind him. "Brigand! Get away!" + +And twisting the ramrod he looked gloomily at Pierre, who turned +away and gazed into the darkness. A prisoner, the Russian soldier +the Frenchman had pushed away, was sitting near the fire patting +something with his hand. Looking more closely Pierre recognized the +blue-gray dog, sitting beside the soldier, wagging its tail. + +"Ah, he's come?" said Pierre. "And Plat-" he began, but did not +finish. + +Suddenly and simultaneously a crowd of memories awoke in his +fancy--of the look Platon had given him as he sat under the tree, of +the shot heard from that spot, of the dog's howl, of the guilty +faces of the two Frenchmen as they ran past him, of the lowered and +smoking gun, and of Karataev's absence at this halt--and he was on the +point of realizing that Karataev had been killed, but just at that +instant, he knew not why, the recollection came to his mind of a +summer evening he had spent with a beautiful Polish lady on the +veranda of his house in Kiev. And without linking up the events of the +day or drawing a conclusion from them, Pierre closed his eyes, +seeing a vision of the country in summertime mingled with memories +of bathing and of the liquid, vibrating globe, and he sank into +water so that it closed over his head. + +Before sunrise he was awakened by shouts and loud and rapid +firing. French soldiers were running past him. + +"The Cossacks!" one of them shouted, and a moment later a crowd of +Russians surrounded Pierre. + +For a long time he could not understand what was happening to him. +All around he heard his comrades sobbing with joy. + +"Brothers! Dear fellows! Darlings!" old soldiers exclaimed, weeping, +as they embraced Cossacks and hussars. + +The hussars and Cossacks crowded round the prisoners; one offered +them clothes, another boots, and a third bread. Pierre sobbed as he +sat among them and could not utter a word. He hugged the first soldier +who approached him, and kissed him, weeping. + +Dolokhov stood at the gate of the ruined house, letting a crowd of +disarmed Frenchmen pass by. The French, excited by all that had +happened, were talking loudly among themselves, but as they passed +Dolokhov who gently switched his boots with his whip and watched +them with cold glassy eyes that boded no good, they became silent. +On the opposite side stood Dolokhov's Cossack, counting the +prisoners and marking off each hundred with a chalk line on the gate. + +"How many?" Dolokhov asked the Cossack. + +"The second hundred," replied the Cossack. + +"Filez, filez!"* Dolokhov kept saying, having adopted this +expression from the French, and when his eyes met those of the +prisoners they flashed with a cruel light. + + +*"Get along, get along!" + + +Denisov, bareheaded and with a gloomy face, walked behind some +Cossacks who were carrying the body of Petya Rostov to a hole that had +been dug in the garden. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +After the twenty-eighth of October when the frosts began, the flight +of the French assumed a still more tragic character, with men +freezing, or roasting themselves to death at the campfires, while +carriages with people dressed in furs continued to drive past, +carrying away the property that had been stolen by the Emperor, kings, +and dukes; but the process of the flight and disintegration of the +French army went on essentially as before. + +From Moscow to Vyazma the French army of seventy-three thousand +men not reckoning the Guards (who did nothing during the whole war but +pillage) was reduced to thirty-six thousand, though not more than five +thousand had fallen in battle. From this beginning the succeeding +terms of the progression could be determined mathematically. The +French army melted away and perished at the same rate from Moscow to +Vyazma, from Vyazma to Smolensk, from Smolensk to the Berezina, and +from the Berezina to Vilna--independently of the greater or lesser +intensity of the cold, the pursuit, the barring of the way, or any +other particular conditions. Beyond Vyazma the French army instead +of moving in three columns huddled together into one mass, and so went +on to the end. Berthier wrote to his Emperor (we know how far +commanding officers allow themselves to diverge from the truth in +describing the condition of an army) and this is what he said: + + +I deem it my duty to report to Your Majesty the condition of the +various corps I have had occasion to observe during different stages +of the last two or three days' march. They are almost disbanded. +Scarcely a quarter of the soldiers remain with the standards of their +regiments, the others go off by themselves in different directions +hoping to find food and escape discipline. In general they regard +Smolensk as the place where they hope to recover. During the last few +days many of the men have been seen to throw away their cartridges and +their arms. In such a state of affairs, whatever your ultimate plans +may be, the interest of Your Majesty's service demands that the army +should be rallied at Smolensk and should first of all be freed from +ineffectives, such as dismounted cavalry, unnecessary baggage, and +artillery material that is no longer in proportion to the present +forces. The soldiers, who are worn out with hunger and fatigue, need +these supplies as well as a few days' rest. Many have died these last +days on the road or at the bivouacs. This state of things is +continually becoming worse and makes one fear that unless a prompt +remedy is applied the troops will no longer be under control in case +of an engagement. + +November 9: twenty miles from Smolensk. + + +After staggering into Smolensk which seemed to them a promised land, +the French, searching for food, killed one another, sacked their own +stores, and when everything had been plundered fled farther. + +They all went without knowing whither or why they were going. +Still less did that genius, Napoleon, know it, for no one issued any +orders to him. But still he and those about him retained their old +habits: wrote commands, letters, reports, and orders of the day; +called one another sire, mon cousin, prince d'Eckmuhl, roi de +Naples, and so on. But these orders and reports were only on paper, +nothing in them was acted upon for they could not be carried out, +and though they entitled one another Majesties, Highnesses, or +Cousins, they all felt that they were miserable wretches who had +done much evil for which they had now to pay. And though they +pretended to be concerned about the army, each was thinking only of +himself and of how to get away quickly and save himself. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The movements of the Russian and French armies during the campaign +from Moscow back to the Niemen were like those in a game of Russian +blindman's bluff, in which two players are blindfolded and one of them +occasionally rings a little bell to inform the catcher of his +whereabouts. First he rings his bell fearlessly, but when he gets into +a tight place he runs away as quietly as he can, and often thinking to +escape runs straight into his opponent's arms. + +At first while they were still moving along the Kaluga road, +Napoleon's armies made their presence known, but later when they +reached the Smolensk road they ran holding the clapper of their bell +tight--and often thinking they were escaping ran right into the +Russians. + +Owing to the rapidity of the French flight and the Russian pursuit +and the consequent exhaustion of the horses, the chief means of +approximately ascertaining the enemy's position--by cavalry +scouting--was not available. Besides, as a result of the frequent +and rapid change of position by each army, even what information was +obtained could not be delivered in time. If news was received one +day that the enemy had been in a certain position the day before, by +the third day when something could have been done, that army was +already two days' march farther on and in quite another position. + +One army fled and the other pursued. Beyond Smolensk there were +several different roads available for the French, and one would have +thought that during their stay of four days they might have learned +where the enemy was, might have arranged some more advantageous plan +and undertaken something new. But after a four days' halt the mob, +with no maneuvers or plans, again began running along the beaten +track, neither to the right nor to the left but along the old--the +worst--road, through Krasnoe and Orsha. + +Expecting the enemy from behind and not in front, the French +separated in their flight and spread out over a distance of +twenty-four hours. In front of them all fled the Emperor, then the +kings, then the dukes. The Russian army, expecting Napoleon to take +the road to the right beyond the Dnieper--which was the only +reasonable thing for him to do--themselves turned to the right and +came out onto the highroad at Krasnoe. And here as in a game of +blindman's buff the French ran into our vanguard. Seeing their enemy +unexpectedly the French fell into confusion and stopped short from the +sudden fright, but then they resumed their flight, abandoning their +comrades who were farther behind. Then for three days separate +portions of the French army--first Murat's (the vice-king's), then +Davout's, and then Ney's--ran, as it were, the gauntlet of the Russian +army. They abandoned one another, abandoned all their heavy baggage, +their artillery, and half their men, and fled, getting past the +Russians by night by making semicircles to the right. + +Ney, who came last, had been busying himself blowing up the walls of +Smolensk which were in nobody's way, because despite the unfortunate +plight of the French or because of it, they wished to punish the floor +against which they had hurt themselves. Ney, who had had a corps of +ten thousand men, reached Napoleon at Orsha with only one thousand men +left, having abandoned all the rest and all his cannon, and having +crossed the Dnieper at night by stealth at a wooded spot. + +From Orsha they fled farther along the road to Vilna, still +playing at blindman's buff with the pursuing army. At the Berezina +they again became disorganized, many were drowned and many +surrendered, but those who got across the river fled farther. Their +supreme chief donned a fur coat and, having seated himself in a +sleigh, galloped on alone, abandoning his companions. The others who +could do so drove away too, leaving those who could not to surrender +or die. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +This campaign consisted in a flight of the French during which +they did all they could to destroy themselves. From the time they +turned onto the Kaluga road to the day their leader fled from the +army, none of the movements of the crowd had any sense. So one might +have thought that regarding this period of the campaign the +historians, who attributed the actions of the mass to the will of +one man, would have found it impossible to make the story of the +retreat fit their theory. But no! Mountains of books have been written +by the historians about this campaign, and everywhere are described +Napoleon's arrangements, the maneuvers, and his profound plans which +guided the army, as well as the military genius shown by his marshals. + +The retreat from Malo-Yaroslavets when he had a free road into a +well-supplied district and the parallel road was open to him along +which Kutuzov afterwards pursued him--this unnecessary retreat along a +devastated road--is explained to us as being due to profound +considerations. Similarly profound considerations are given for his +retreat from Smolensk to Orsha. Then his heroism at Krasnoe is +described, where he is reported to have been prepared to accept battle +and take personal command, and to have walked about with a birch stick +and said: + +"J'ai assez fait l'empereur; il est temps de faire le general,"* but +nevertheless immediately ran away again, abandoning to its fate the +scattered fragments of the army he left behind. + + +*"I have acted the Emperor long enough; it is time to act the +general." + + +Then we are told of the greatness of soul of the marshals, +especially of Ney--a greatness of soul consisting in this: that he +made his way by night around through the forest and across the Dnieper +and escaped to Orsha, abandoning standards, artillery, and nine tenths +of his men. + +And lastly, the final departure of the great Emperor from his heroic +army is presented to us by the historians as something great and +characteristic of genius. Even that final running away, described in +ordinary language as the lowest depth of baseness which every child is +taught to be ashamed of--even that act finds justification in the +historians' language. + +When it is impossible to stretch the very elastic threads of +historical ratiocination any farther, when actions are clearly +contrary to all that humanity calls right or even just, the historians +produce a saving conception of "greatness." "Greatness," it seems, +excludes the standards of right and wrong. For the "great" man nothing +is wrong, there is no atrocity for which a "great" man can be blamed. + +"C'est grand!"* say the historians, and there no longer exists +either good or evil but only "grand" and "not grand." Grand is good, +not grand is bad. Grand is the characteristic, in their conception, of +some special animals called "heroes." And Napoleon, escaping home in a +warm fur coat and leaving to perish those who were not merely his +comrades but were (in his opinion) men he had brought there, feels que +c'est grand,*[2] and his soul is tranquil. + + +*"It is great." + +*[2] That it is great. + + +"Du sublime (he saw something sublime in himself) au ridicule il n'y +a qu'un pas,"* said he. And the whole world for fifty years has been +repeating: "Sublime! Grand! Napoleon le Grand!" Du sublime au ridicule +il n'y a qu'un pas. + + +*"From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step." + + +And it occurs to no one that to admit a greatness not +commensurable with the standard of right and wrong is merely to +admit one's own nothingness and immeasurable meanness. + +For us with the standard of good and evil given us by Christ, no +human actions are incommensurable. And there is no greatness where +simplicity, goodness, and truth are absent. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +What Russian, reading the account of the last part of the campaign +of 1812, has not experienced an uncomfortable feeling of regret, +dissatisfaction, and perplexity? Who has not asked himself how it is +that the French were not all captured or destroyed when our three +armies surrounded them in superior numbers, when the disordered +French, hungry and freezing, surrendered in crowds, and when (as the +historians relate) the aim of the Russians was to stop the French, +to cut them off, and capture them all? + +How was it that the Russian army, which when numerically weaker than +the French had given battle at Borodino, did not achieve its purpose +when it had surrounded the French on three sides and when its aim +was to capture them? Can the French be so enormously superior to us +that when we had surrounded them with superior forces we could not +beat them? How could that happen? + +History (or what is called by that name) replying to these questions +says that this occurred because Kutuzov and Tormasov and Chichagov, +and this man and that man, did not execute such and such maneuvers... + +But why did they not execute those maneuvers? And why if they were +guilty of not carrying out a prearranged plan were they not tried +and punished? But even if we admitted that Kutuzov, Chichagov, and +others were the cause of the Russian failures, it is still +incomprehensible why, the position of the Russian army being what it +was at Krasnoe and at the Berezina (in both cases we had superior +forces), the French army with its marshals, kings, and Emperor was not +captured, if that was what the Russians aimed at. + +The explanation of this strange fact given by Russian military +historians (to the effect that Kutuzov hindered an attack) is +unfounded, for we know that he could not restrain the troops from +attacking at Vyazma and Tarutino. + +Why was the Russian army--which with inferior forces had withstood +the enemy in full strength at Borodino--defeated at Krasnoe and the +Berezina by the disorganized crowds of the French when it was +numerically superior? + +If the aim of the Russians consisted in cutting off and capturing +Napoleon and his marshals--and that aim was not merely frustrated +but all attempts to attain it were most shamefully baffled--then +this last period of the campaign is quite rightly considered by the +French to be a series of victories, and quite wrongly considered +victorious by Russian historians. + +The Russian military historians in so far as they submit to claims +of logic must admit that conclusion, and in spite of their lyrical +rhapsodies about valor, devotion, and so forth, must reluctantly admit +that the French retreat from Moscow was a series of victories for +Napoleon and defeats for Kutuzov. + +But putting national vanity entirely aside one feels that such a +conclusion involves a contradiction, since the series of French +victories brought the French complete destruction, while the series of +Russian defeats led to the total destruction of their enemy and the +liberation of their country. + +The source of this contradiction lies in the fact that the +historians studying the events from the letters of the sovereigns +and the generals, from memoirs, reports, projects, and so forth, +have attributed to this last period of the war of 1812 an aim that +never existed, namely that of cutting off and capturing Napoleon +with his marshals and his army. + +There never was or could have been such an aim, for it would have +been senseless and its attainment quite impossible. + +It would have been senseless, first because Napoleon's +disorganized army was flying from Russia with all possible speed, that +is to say, was doing just what every Russian desired. So what was +the use of performing various operations on the French who were +running away as fast as they possibly could? + +Secondly, it would have been senseless to block the passage of men +whose whole energy was directed to flight. + +Thirdly, it would have been senseless to sacrifice one's own +troops in order to destroy the French army, which without external +interference was destroying itself at such a rate that, though its +path was not blocked, it could not carry across the frontier more than +it actually did in December, namely a hundredth part of the original +army. + +Fourthly, it would have been senseless to wish to take captive the +Emperor, kings, and dukes--whose capture would have been in the +highest degree embarrassing for the Russians, as the most adroit +diplomatists of the time (Joseph de Maistre and others) recognized. +Still more senseless would have been the wish to capture army corps of +the French, when our own army had melted away to half before +reaching Krasnoe and a whole division would have been needed to convoy +the corps of prisoners, and when our men were not always getting +full rations and the prisoners already taken were perishing of hunger. + +All the profound plans about cutting off and capturing Napoleon +and his army were like the plan of a market gardener who, when driving +out of his garden a cow that had trampled down the beds he had +planted, should run to the gate and hit the cow on the head. The +only thing to be said in excuse of that gardener would be that he +was very angry. But not even that could be said for those who drew +up this project, for it was not they who had suffered from the +trampled beds. + +But besides the fact that cutting off Napoleon with his army would +have been senseless, it was impossible. + +It was impossible first because--as experience shows that a +three-mile movement of columns on a battlefield never coincides with +the plans--the probability of Chichagov, Kutuzov, and Wittgenstein +effecting a junction on time at an appointed place was so remote as to +be tantamount to impossibility, as in fact thought Kutuzov, who when +he received the plan remarked that diversions planned over great +distances do not yield the desired results. + +Secondly it was impossible, because to paralyze the momentum with +which Napoleon's army was retiring, incomparably greater forces than +the Russians possessed would have been required. + +Thirdly it was impossible, because the military term "to cut off" +has no meaning. One can cut off a slice of bread, but not an army. +To cut off an army--to bar its road--is quite impossible, for there is +always plenty of room to avoid capture and there is the night when +nothing can be seen, as the military scientists might convince +themselves by the example of Krasnoe and of the Berezina. It is only +possible to capture prisoners if they agree to be captured, just as it +is only possible to catch a swallow if it settles on one's hand. Men +can only be taken prisoners if they surrender according to the rules +of strategy and tactics, as the Germans did. But the French troops +quite rightly did not consider that this suited them, since death by +hunger and cold awaited them in flight or captivity alike. + +Fourthly and chiefly it was impossible, because never since the +world began has a war been fought under such conditions as those +that obtained in 1812, and the Russian army in its pursuit of the +French strained its strength to the utmost and could not have done +more without destroying itself. + +During the movement of the Russian army from Tarutino to Krasnoe +it lost fifty thousand sick or stragglers, that is a number equal to +the population of a large provincial town. Half the men fell out of +the army without a battle. + +And it is of this period of the campaign--when the army lacked boots +and sheepskin coats, was short of provisions and without vodka, and +was camping out at night for months in the snow with fifteen degrees +of frost, when there were only seven or eight hours of daylight and +the rest was night in which the influence of discipline cannot be +maintained, when men were taken into that region of death where +discipline fails, not for a few hours only as in a battle, but for +months, where they were every moment fighting death from hunger and +cold, when half the army perished in a single month--it is of this +period of the campaign that the historians tell us how Miloradovich +should have made a flank march to such and such a place, Tormasov to +another place, and Chichagov should have crossed (more than +knee-deep in snow) to somewhere else, and how so-and-so "routed" and +"cut off" the French and so on and so on. + +The Russians, half of whom died, did all that could and should +have been done to attain an end worthy of the nation, and they are not +to blame because other Russians, sitting in warm rooms, proposed +that they should do what was impossible. + +All that strange contradiction now difficult to understand between +the facts and the historical accounts only arises because the +historians dealing with the matter have written the history of the +beautiful words and sentiments of various generals, and not the +history of the events. + +To them the words of Miloradovich seem very interesting, and so do +their surmises and the rewards this or that general received; but +the question of those fifty thousand men who were left in hospitals +and in graves does not even interest them, for it does not come within +the range of their investigation. + +Yet one need only discard the study of the reports and general plans +and consider the movement of those hundreds of thousands of men who +took a direct part in the events, and all the questions that seemed +insoluble easily and simply receive an immediate and certain solution. + +The aim of cutting off Napoleon and his army never existed except in +the imaginations of a dozen people. It could not exist because it +was senseless and unattainable. + +The people had a single aim: to free their land from invasion. +That aim was attained in the first place of itself, as the French +ran away, and so it was only necessary not to stop their flight. +Secondly it was attained by the guerrilla warfare which was destroying +the French, and thirdly by the fact that a large Russian army was +following the French, ready to use its strength in case their movement +stopped. + +The Russian army had to act like a whip to a running animal. And the +experienced driver knew it was better to hold the whip raised as a +menace than to strike the running animal on the head. + + + + + +BOOK FIFTEEN: 1812 --13 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +When seeing a dying animal a man feels a sense of horror: +substance similar to his own is perishing before his eyes. But when it +is a beloved and intimate human being that is dying, besides this +horror at the extinction of life there is a severance, a spiritual +wound, which like a physical wound is sometimes fatal and sometimes +heals, but always aches and shrinks at any external irritating touch. + +After Prince Andrew's death Natasha and Princess Mary alike felt +this. Drooping in spirit and closing their eyes before the menacing +cloud of death that overhung them, they dared not look life in the +face. They carefully guarded their open wounds from any rough and +painful contact. Everything: a carriage passing rapidly in the street, +a summons to dinner, the maid's inquiry what dress to prepare, or +worse still any word of insincere or feeble sympathy, seemed an +insult, painfully irritated the wound, interrupting that necessary +quiet in which they both tried to listen to the stern and dreadful +choir that still resounded in their imagination, and hindered their +gazing into those mysterious limitless vistas that for an instant +had opened out before them. + +Only when alone together were they free from such outrage and +pain. They spoke little even to one another, and when they did it +was of very unimportant matters. + +Both avoided any allusion to the future. To admit the possibility of +a future seemed to them to insult his memory. Still more carefully did +they avoid anything relating to him who was dead. It seemed to them +that what they had lived through and experienced could not be +expressed in words, and that any reference to the details of his +life infringed the majesty and sacredness of the mystery that had been +accomplished before their eyes. + +Continued abstention from speech, and constant avoidance of +everything that might lead up to the subject--this halting on all +sides at the boundary of what they might not mention--brought before +their minds with still greater purity and clearness what they were +both feeling. + +But pure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete +joy. Princess Mary, in her position as absolute and independent +arbiter of her own fate and guardian and instructor of her nephew, was +the first to be called back to life from that realm of sorrow in which +she had dwelt for the first fortnight. She received letters from her +relations to which she had to reply; the room in which little Nicholas +had been put was damp and he began to cough; Alpatych came to +Yaroslavl with reports on the state of their affairs and with advice +and suggestions that they should return to Moscow to the house on +the Vozdvizhenka Street, which had remained uninjured and needed +only slight repairs. Life did not stand still and it was necessary +to live. Hard as it was for Princess Mary to emerge from the realm +of secluded contemplation in which she had lived till then, and +sorry and almost ashamed as she felt to leave Natasha alone, yet the +cares of life demanded her attention and she involuntarily yielded +to them. She went through the accounts with Alpatych, conferred with +Dessalles about her nephew, and gave orders and made preparations +for the journey to Moscow. + +Natasha remained alone and, from the time Princess Mary began making +preparations for departure, held aloof from her too. + +Princess Mary asked the countess to let Natasha go with her to +Moscow, and both parents gladly accepted this offer, for they saw +their daughter losing strength every day and thought that a change +of scene and the advice of Moscow doctors would be good for her. + +"I am not going anywhere," Natasha replied when this was proposed to +her. "Do please just leave me alone!" And she ran out of the room, +with difficulty refraining from tears of vexation and irritation +rather than of sorrow. + +After she felt herself deserted by Princes Mary and alone in her +grief, Natasha spent most of the time in her room by herself, +sitting huddled up feet and all in the corner of the sofa, tearing and +twisting something with her slender nervous fingers and gazing +intently and fixedly at whatever her eyes chanced to fall on. This +solitude exhausted and tormented her but she was in absolute need of +it. As soon as anyone entered she got up quickly, changed her position +and expression, and picked up a book or some sewing, evidently waiting +impatiently for the intruder to go. + +She felt all the time as if she might at any moment penetrate that on +which--with a terrible questioning too great for her strength--her +spiritual gaze was fixed. + +One day toward the end of December Natasha, pale and thin, dressed +in a black woolen gown, her plaited hair negligently twisted into a +knot, was crouched feet and all in the corner of her sofa, nervously +crumpling and smoothing out the end of her sash while she looked at +a corner of the door. + +She was gazing in the direction in which he had gone--to the other +side of life. And that other side of life, of which she had never +before thought and which had formerly seemed to her so far away and +improbable, was now nearer and more akin and more comprehensible +than this side of life, where everything was either emptiness and +desolation or suffering and indignity. + +She was gazing where she knew him to be; but she could not imagine +him otherwise than as he had been here. She now saw him again as he +had been at Mytishchi, at Troitsa, and at Yaroslavl. + +She saw his face, heard his voice, repeated his words and her own, +and sometimes devised other words they might have spoken. + +There he is lying back in an armchair in his velvet cloak, leaning +his head on his thin pale hand. His chest is dreadfully hollow and his +shoulders raised. His lips are firmly closed, his eyes glitter, and +a wrinkle comes and goes on his pale forehead. One of his legs +twitches just perceptibly, but rapidly. Natasha knows that he is +struggling with terrible pain. "What is that pain like? Why does he +have that pain? What does he feel? How does it hurt him?" thought +Natasha. He noticed her watching him, raised his eyes, and began to +speak seriously: + +"One thing would be terrible," said he: "to bind oneself forever +to a suffering man. It would be continual torture." And he looked +searchingly at her. Natasha as usual answered before she had time to +think what she would say. She said: "This can't go on--it won't. You +will get well--quite well." + +She now saw him from the commencement of that scene and relived what +she had then felt. She recalled his long sad and severe look at +those words and understood the meaning of the rebuke and despair in +that protracted gaze. + +"I agreed," Natasha now said to herself, "that it would be +dreadful if he always continued to suffer. I said it then only because +it would have been dreadful for him, but he understood it differently. +He thought it would be dreadful for me. He then still wished to live +and feared death. And I said it so awkwardly and stupidly! I did not +say what I meant. I thought quite differently. Had I said what I +thought, I should have said: even if he had to go on dying, to die +continually before my eyes, I should have been happy compared with +what I am now. Now there is nothing... nobody. Did he know that? No, +he did not and never will know it. And now it will never, never be +possible to put it right." And now he again seemed to be saying the +same words to her, only in her imagination Natasha this time gave +him a different answer. She stopped him and said: "Terrible for you, +but not for me! You know that for me there is nothing in life but you, +and to suffer with you is the greatest happiness for me," and he +took her hand and pressed it as he had pressed it that terrible +evening four days before his death. And in her imagination she said +other tender and loving words which she might have said then but +only spoke now: "I love thee!... thee! I love, love..." she said, +convulsively pressing her hands and setting her teeth with a desperate +effort... + +She was overcome by sweet sorrow and tears were already rising in +her eyes; then she suddenly asked herself to whom she was saying this. +Again everything was shrouded in hard, dry perplexity, and again +with a strained frown she peered toward the world where he was. And +now, now it seemed to her she was penetrating the mystery.... But at +the instant when it seemed that the incomprehensible was revealing +itself to her a loud rattle of the door handle struck painfully on her +ears. Dunyasha, her maid, entered the room quickly and abruptly with a +frightened look on her face and showing no concern for her mistress. + +"Come to your Papa at once, please!" said she with a strange, +excited look. "A misfortune... about Peter Ilynich... a letter," she +finished with a sob. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Besides a feeling of aloofness from everybody Natasha was feeling +a special estrangement from the members of her own family. All of +them--her father, mother, and Sonya--were so near to her, so familiar, +so commonplace, that all their words and feelings seemed an insult +to the world in which she had been living of late, and she felt not +merely indifferent to them but regarded them with hostility. She heard +Dunyasha's words about Peter Ilynich and a misfortune, but did not +grasp them. + +"What misfortune? What misfortune can happen to them? They just live +their own old, quiet, and commonplace life," thought Natasha. + +As she entered the ballroom her father was hurriedly coming out of +her mother's room. His face was puckered up and wet with tears. He had +evidently run out of that room to give vent to the sobs that were +choking him. When he saw Natasha he waved his arms despairingly and +burst into convulsively painful sobs that distorted his soft round +face. + +"Pe... Petya... Go, go, she... is calling..." and weeping like a +child and quickly shuffling on his feeble legs to a chair, he almost +fell into it, covering his face with his hands. + +Suddenly an electric shock seemed to run through Natasha's whole +being. Terrible anguish struck her heart, she felt a dreadful ache +as if something was being torn inside her and she were dying. But +the pain was immediately followed by a feeling of release from the +oppressive constraint that had prevented her taking part in life. +The sight of her father, the terribly wild cries of her mother that +she heard through the door, made her immediately forget herself and +her own grief. + +She ran to her father, but he feebly waved his arm, pointing to +her mother's door. Princess Mary, pale and with quivering chin, came +out from that room and taking Natasha by the arm said something to +her. Natasha neither saw nor heard her. She went in with rapid +steps, pausing at the door for an instant as if struggling with +herself, and then ran to her mother. + +The countess was lying in an armchair in a strange and awkward +position, stretching out and beating her head against the wall. +Sonya and the maids were holding her arms. + +"Natasha! Natasha!..." cried the countess. "It's not true... it's +not true... He's lying... Natasha!" she shrieked, pushing those around +her away. "Go away, all of you; it's not true! Killed!... ha, ha, +ha!... It's not true!" + +Natasha put one knee on the armchair, stooped over her mother, +embraced her, and with unexpected strength raised her, turned her face +toward herself, and clung to her. + +"Mummy!... darling!... I am here, my dearest Mummy," she kept on +whispering, not pausing an instant. + +She did not let go of her mother but struggled tenderly with her, +demanded a pillow and hot water, and unfastened and tore open her +mother's dress. + +"My dearest darling... Mummy, my precious!..." she whispered +incessantly, kissing her head, her hands, her face, and feeling her +own irrepressible and streaming tears tickling her nose and cheeks. + +The countess pressed her daughter's hand, closed her eyes, and +became quiet for a moment. Suddenly she sat up with unaccustomed +swiftness, glanced vacantly around her, and seeing Natasha began to +press her daughter's head with all her strength. Then she turned +toward her daughter's face which was wincing with pain and gazed +long at it. + +"Natasha, you love me?" she said in a soft trustful whisper. +"Natasha, you would not deceive me? You'll tell me the whole truth?" + +Natasha looked at her with eyes full of tears and in her look +there was nothing but love and an entreaty for forgiveness. + +"My darling Mummy!" she repeated, straining all the power of her +love to find some way of taking on herself the excess of grief that +crushed her mother. + +And again in a futile struggle with reality her mother, refusing +to believe that she could live when her beloved boy was killed in +the bloom of life, escaped from reality into a world of delirium. + +Natasha did not remember how that day passed nor that night, nor the +next day and night. She did not sleep and did not leave her mother. +Her persevering and patient love seemed completely to surround the +countess every moment, not explaining or consoling, but recalling +her to life. + +During the third night the countess kept very quiet for a few +minutes, and Natasha rested her head on the arm of her chair and +closed her eyes, but opened them again on hearing the bedstead +creak. The countess was sitting up in bed and speaking softly. + +"How glad I am you have come. You are tired. Won't you have some +tea?" Natasha went up to her. "You have improved in looks and grown +more manly," continued the countess, taking her daughter's hand. + +"Mamma! What are you saying..." + +"Natasha, he is no more, no more!" + +And embracing her daughter, the countess began to weep for the first +time. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Princess Mary postponed her departure. Sonya and the count tried +to replace Natasha but could not. They saw that she alone was able +to restrain her mother from unreasoning despair. For three weeks +Natasha remained constantly at her mother's side, sleeping on a lounge +chair in her room, making her eat and drink, and talking to her +incessantly because the mere sound of her tender, caressing tones +soothed her mother. + +The mother's wounded spirit could not heal. Petya's +death had torn from her half her life. When the news of Petya's +death had come she had been a fresh and vigorous woman of fifty, but a +month later she left her room a listless old woman taking no +interest in life. But the same blow that almost killed the countess, +this second blow, restored Natasha to life. + +A spiritual wound produced by a rending of the spiritual body is +like a physical wound and, strange as it may seem, just as a deep +wound may heal and its edges join, physical and spiritual wounds alike +can yet heal completely only as the result of a vital force from +within. + +Natasha's wound healed in that way. She thought her life was +ended, but her love for her mother unexpectedly showed her that the +essence of life--love--was still active within her. Love awoke and +so did life. + +Prince Andrew's last days had bound Princess Mary and Natasha +together; this new sorrow brought them still closer to one another. +Princess Mary put off her departure, and for three weeks looked +after Natasha as if she had been a sick child. The last weeks passed +in her mother's bedroom had strained Natasha's physical strength. + +One afternoon noticing Natasha shivering with fever, Princess Mary +took her to her own room and made her lie down on the bed. Natasha lay +down, but when Princess Mary had drawn the blinds and was going away +she called her back. + +"I don't want to sleep, Mary, sit by me a little." + +"You are tired--try to sleep." + +"No, no. Why did you bring me away? She will be asking for me." + +"She is much better. She spoke so well today," said Princess Mary. + +Natasha lay on the bed and in the semidarkness of the room scanned +Princess Mary's face. + +"Is she like him?" thought Natasha. "Yes, like and yet not like. But +she is quite original, strange, new, and unknown. And she loves me. +What is in her heart? All that is good. But how? What is her mind +like? What does she think about me? Yes, she is splendid!" + +"Mary," she said timidly, drawing Princess Mary's hand to herself, +"Mary, you mustn't think me wicked. No? Mary darling, how I love +you! Let us be quite, quite friends." + +And Natasha, embracing her, began kissing her face and hands, making +Princess Mary feel shy but happy by this demonstration of her +feelings. + +From that day a tender and passionate friendship such as exists only +between women was established between Princess Mary and Natasha. +They were continually kissing and saying tender things to one +another and spent most of their time together. When one went out the +other became restless and hastened to rejoin her. Together they felt +more in harmony with one another than either of them felt with herself +when alone. A feeling stronger than friendship sprang up between them; +an exclusive feeling of life being possible only in each other's +presence. + +Sometimes they were silent for hours; sometimes after they were +already in bed they would begin talking and go on till morning. They +spoke most of what was long past. Princess Mary spoke of her +childhood, of her mother, her father, and her daydreams; and +Natasha, who with a passive lack of understanding had formerly +turned away from that life of devotion, submission, and the poetry +of Christian self-sacrifice, now feeling herself bound to Princess +Mary by affection, learned to love her past too and to understand a +side of life previously incomprehensible to her. She did not think +of applying submission and self-abnegation to her own life, for she +was accustomed to seek other joys, but she understood and loved in +another those previously incomprehensible virtues. For Princess +Mary, listening to Natasha's tales of childhood and early youth, there +also opened out a new and hitherto uncomprehended side of life: belief +in life and its enjoyment. + +Just as before, they never mentioned him so as not to lower (as they +thought) their exalted feelings by words; but this silence about him +had the effect of making them gradually begin to forget him without +being conscious of it. + +Natasha had grown thin and pale and physically so weak that they all +talked about her health, and this pleased her. But sometimes she was +suddenly overcome by fear not only of death but of sickness, weakness, +and loss of good looks, and involuntarily she examined her bare arm +carefully, surprised at its thinness, and in the morning noticed her +drawn and, as it seemed to her, piteous face in her glass. It seemed +to her that things must be so, and yet it was dreadfully sad. + +One day she went quickly upstairs and found herself out of breath. +Unconsciously she immediately invented a reason for going down, and +then, testing her strength, ran upstairs again, observing the result. + +Another time when she called Dunyasha her voice trembled, so she +called again--though she could hear Dunyasha coming--called her in the +deep chest tones in which she had been wont to sing, and listened +attentively to herself. + +She did not know and would not have believed it, but beneath the +layer of slime that covered her soul and seemed to her impenetrable, +delicate young shoots of grass were already sprouting, which taking +root would so cover with their living verdure the grief that weighed +her down that it would soon no longer be seen or noticed. The wound +had begun to heal from within. + +At the end of January Princess Mary left for Moscow, and the count +insisted on Natasha's going with her to consult the doctors. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +After the encounter at Vyazma, where Kutuzov had been unable to hold +back his troops in their anxiety to overwhelm and cut off the enemy +and so on, the farther movement of the fleeing French, and of the +Russians who pursued them, continued as far as Krasnoe without a +battle. The flight was so rapid that the Russian army pursuing the +French could not keep up with them; cavalry and artillery horses broke +down, and the information received of the movements of the French +was never reliable. + +The men in the Russian army were so worn out by this continuous +marching at the rate of twenty-seven miles a day that they could not +go any faster. + +To realize the degree of exhaustion of the Russian army it is only +necessary to grasp clearly the meaning of the fact that, while not +losing more than five thousand killed and wounded after Tarutino and +less than a hundred prisoners, the Russian army which left that +place a hundred thousand strong reached Krasnoe with only fifty +thousand. + +The rapidity of the Russian pursuit was just as destructive to our +army as the flight of the French was to theirs. The only difference +was that the Russian army moved voluntarily, with no such threat of +destruction as hung over the French, and that the sick Frenchmen +were left behind in enemy hands while the sick Russians left behind +were among their own people. The chief cause of the wastage of +Napoleon's army was the rapidity of its movement, and a convincing +proof of this is the corresponding decrease of the Russian army. + +Kutuzov as far as was in his power, instead of trying to check the +movement of the French as was desired in Petersburg and by the Russian +army generals, directed his whole activity here, as he had done at +Tarutino and Vyazma, to hastening it on while easing the movement of +our army. + +But besides this, since the exhaustion and enormous diminution of +the army caused by the rapidity of the advance had become evident, +another reason for slackening the pace and delaying presented itself +to Kutuzov. The aim of the Russian army was to pursue the French. +The road the French would take was unknown, and so the closer our +troops trod on their heels the greater distance they had to cover. +Only by following at some distance could one cut across the zigzag +path of the French. All the artful maneuvers suggested by our generals +meant fresh movements of the army and a lengthening of its marches, +whereas the only reasonable aim was to shorten those marches. To +that end Kutuzov's activity was directed during the whole campaign +from Moscow to Vilna--not casually or intermittently but so +consistently that he never once deviated from it. + +Kutuzov felt and knew--not by reasoning or science but with the +whole of his Russian being--what every Russian soldier felt: that +the French were beaten, that the enemy was flying and must be driven +out; but at the same time he like the soldiers realized all the +hardship of this march, the rapidity of which was unparalleled for +such a time of the year. + +But to the generals, especially the foreign ones in the Russian army, +who wished to distinguish themselves, to astonish somebody, and for +some reason to capture a king or a duke--it seemed that now--when any +battle must be horrible and senseless--was the very time to fight and +conquer somebody. Kutuzov merely shrugged his shoulders when one after +another they presented projects of maneuvers to be made with those +soldiers--ill-shod, insufficiently clad, and half starved--who within +a month and without fighting a battle had dwindled to half their +number, and who at the best if the flight continued would have to go a +greater distance than they had already traversed, before they reached +the frontier. + +This longing to distinguish themselves, to maneuver, to overthrow, +and to cut off showed itself particularly whenever the Russians +stumbled on the French army. + +So it was at Krasnoe, where they expected to find one of the three +French columns and stumbled instead on Napoleon himself with sixteen +thousand men. Despite all Kutuzov's efforts to avoid that ruinous +encounter and to preserve his troops, the massacre of the broken mob +of French soldiers by worn-out Russians continued at Krasnoe for three +days. + +Toll wrote a disposition: "The first column will march to so and +so," etc. And as usual nothing happened in accord with the +disposition. Prince Eugene of Wurttemberg fired from a hill over the +French crowds that were running past, and demanded reinforcements +which did not arrive. The French, avoiding the Russians, dispersed and +hid themselves in the forest by night, making their way round as +best they could, and continued their flight. + +Miloradovich, who said he did not want to know anything about the +commissariat affairs of his detachment, and could never be found +when he was wanted--that chevalier sans peur et sans reproche* as he +styled himself--who was fond of parleys with the French, sent envoys +demanding their surrender, wasted time, and did not do what he was +ordered to do. + + +*Knight without fear and without reproach. + + +"I give you that column, lads," he said, riding up to the troops and +pointing out the French to the cavalry. + +And the cavalry, with spurs and sabers urging on horses that could +scarcely move, trotted with much effort to the column presented to +them--that is to say, to a crowd of Frenchmen stark with cold, +frost-bitten, and starving--and the column that had been presented +to them threw down its arms and surrendered as it had long been +anxious to do. + +At Krasnoe they took twenty-six thousand prisoners, several +hundred cannon, and a stick called a "marshal's staff," and disputed +as to who had distinguished himself and were pleased with their +achievement--though they much regretted not having taken Napoleon, +or at least a marshal or a hero of some sort, and reproached one +another and especially Kutuzov for having failed to do so. + +These men, carried away by their passions, were but blind tools of +the most melancholy law of necessity, but considered themselves heroes +and imagined that they were accomplishing a most noble and honorable +deed. They blamed Kutuzov and said that from the very beginning of the +campaign he had prevented their vanquishing Napoleon, that he +thought of nothing but satisfying his passions and would not advance from +the Linen Factories because he was comfortable there, that at +Krasnoe he checked the advance because on learning that Napoleon was +there he had quite lost his head, and that it was probable that he had +an understanding with Napoleon and had been bribed by him, and so +on, and so on. + +Not only did his contemporaries, carried away by their passions, talk +in this way, but posterity and history have acclaimed Napoleon as +grand, while Kutuzov is described by foreigners as a crafty, +dissolute, weak old courtier, and by Russians as something +indefinite--a sort of puppet useful only because he had a Russian +name. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +In 1812 and 1813 Kutuzov was openly accused of blundering. The +Emperor was dissatisfied with him. And in a history recently written +by order of the Highest Authorities it is said that Kutuzov was a +cunning court liar, frightened of the name of Napoleon, and that by +his blunders at Krasnoe and the Berezina he deprived the Russian +army of the glory of complete victory over the French.* + + +*History of the year 1812. The character of Kutuzov and +reflections on the unsatisfactory results of the battles at Krasnoe, +by Bogdanovich. + + +Such is the fate not of great men (grands hommes) whom the Russian +mind does not acknowledge, but of those rare and always solitary +individuals who, discerning the will of Providence, submit their +personal will to it. The hatred and contempt of the crowd punish +such men for discerning the higher laws. + +For Russian historians, strange and terrible to say, Napoleon--that +most insignificant tool of history who never anywhere, even in exile, +showed human dignity--Napoleon is the object of adulation and +enthusiasm; he is grand. But Kutuzov--the man who from the beginning +to the end of his activity in 1812, never once swerving by word or +deed from Borodino to Vilna, presented an example exceptional in +history of self-sacrifice and a present consciousness of the future +importance of what was happening--Kutuzov seems to them something +indefinite and pitiful, and when speaking of him and of the year 1812 +they always seem a little ashamed. + +And yet it is difficult to imagine an historical character whose +activity was so unswervingly directed to a single aim; and it would be +difficult to imagine any aim more worthy or more consonant with the +will of the whole people. Still more difficult would it be to find +an instance in history of the aim of an historical personage being +so completely accomplished as that to which all Kutuzov's efforts were +directed in 1812. + +Kutuzov never talked of "forty centuries looking down from the +Pyramids," of the sacrifices he offered for the fatherland, or of what +he intended to accomplish or had accomplished; in general he said +nothing about himself, adopted no prose, always appeared to be the +simplest and most ordinary of men, and said the simplest and most +ordinary things. He wrote letters to his daughters and to Madame de +Stael, read novels, liked the society of pretty women, jested with +generals, officers, and soldiers, and never contradicted those who +tried to prove anything to him. When Count Rostopchin at the Yauza +bridge galloped up to Kutuzov with personal reproaches for having +caused the destruction of Moscow, and said: "How was it you promised +not to abandon Moscow without a battle?" Kutuzov replied: "And I shall +not abandon Moscow without a battle," though Moscow was then already +abandoned. When Arakcheev, coming to him from the Emperor, said that +Ermolov ought to be appointed chief of the artillery, Kutuzov replied: +"Yes, I was just saying so myself," though a moment before he had said +quite the contrary. What did it matter to him--who then alone amid a +senseless crowd understood the whole tremendous significance of what +was happening--what did it matter to him whether Rostopchin attributed +the calamities of Moscow to him or to himself? Still less could it +matter to him who was appointed chief of the artillery. + +Not merely in these cases but continually did that old man--who by +experience of life had reached the conviction that thoughts and the +words serving as their expression are not what move people--use +quite meaningless words that happened to enter his head. + +But that man, so heedless of his words, did not once during the +whole time of his activity utter one word inconsistent with the single +aim toward which he moved throughout the whole war. Obviously in spite +of himself, in very diverse circumstances, he repeatedly expressed his +real thoughts with the bitter conviction that he would not be +understood. Beginning with the battle of Borodino, from which time his +disagreement with those about him began, he alone said that the battle +of Borodino was a victory, and repeated this both verbally and in +his dispatches and reports up to the time of his death. He alone +said that the loss of Moscow is not the loss of Russia. In reply to +Lauriston's proposal of peace, he said: There can be no peace, for +such is the people's will. He alone during the retreat of the French +said that all our maneuvers are useless, everything is being +accomplished of itself better than we could desire; that the enemy +must be offered "a golden bridge"; that neither the Tarutino, the +Vyazma, nor the Krasnoe battles were necessary; that we must keep some +force to reach the frontier with, and that he would not sacrifice a +single Russian for ten Frenchmen. + +And this courtier, as he is described to us, who lies to Arakcheev +to please the Emperor, he alone--incurring thereby the Emperor's +displeasure--said in Vilna that to carry the war beyond the frontier +is useless and harmful. + +Nor do words alone prove that only he understood the meaning of +the events. His actions--without the smallest deviation--were all +directed to one and the same threefold end: (1) to brace all his +strength for conflict with the French, (2) to defeat them, and (3) +to drive them out of Russia, minimizing as far as possible the +sufferings of our people and of our army. + +This procrastinator Kutuzov, whose motto was "Patience and Time," +this enemy of decisive action, gave battle at Borodino, investing +the preparations for it with unparalleled solemnity. This Kutuzov +who before the battle of Austerlitz began said that it would be +lost, he alone, in contradiction to everyone else, declared till his +death that Borodino was a victory, despite the assurance of generals +that the battle was lost and despite the fact that for an army to have +to retire after winning a battle was unprecedented. He alone during +the whole retreat insisted that battles, which were useless then, +should not be fought, and that a new war should not be begun nor the +frontiers of Russia crossed. + +It is easy now to understand the significance of these events--if +only we abstain from attributing to the activity of the mass aims that +existed only in the heads of a dozen individuals--for the events and +results now lie before us. + +But how did that old man, alone, in opposition to the general +opinion, so truly discern the importance of the people's view of the +events that in all his activity he was never once untrue to it? + +The source of that extraordinary power of penetrating the meaning of +the events then occuring lay in the national feeling which he +possessed in full purity and strength. + +Only the recognition of the fact that he possessed this feeling +caused the people in so strange a manner, contrary to the Tsar's wish, +to select him--an old man in disfavor--to be their representative in +the national war. And only that feeling placed him on that highest +human pedestal from which he, the commander in chief, devoted all +his powers not to slaying and destroying men but to saving and showing +pity on them. + +That simple, modest, and therefore truly great, figure could not +be cast in the false mold of a European hero--the supposed ruler of +men--that history has invented. + +To a lackey no man can be great, for a lackey has his own conception +of greatness. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The fifth of November was the first day of what is called the battle +of Krasnoe. Toward evening--after much disputing and many mistakes +made by generals who did not go to their proper places, and after +adjutants had been sent about with counterorders--when it had become +plain that the enemy was everywhere in flight and that there could and +would be no battle, Kutuzov left Krasnoe and went to Dobroe whither +his headquarters had that day been transferred. + +The day was clear and frosty. Kutuzov rode to Dobroe on his plump +little white horse, followed by an enormous suite of discontented +generals who whispered among themselves behind his back. All along the +road groups of French prisoners captured that day (there were seven +thousand of them) were crowding to warm themselves at campfires. +Near Dobroe an immense crowd of tattered prisoners, buzzing with +talk and wrapped and bandaged in anything they had been able to get +hold of, were standing in the road beside a long row of unharnessed +French guns. At the approach of the commander in chief the buzz of +talk ceased and all eyes were fixed on Kutuzov who, wearing a white +cap with a red band and a padded overcoat that bulged on his round +shoulders, moved slowly along the road on his white horse. One of +the generals was reporting to him where the guns and prisoners had +been captured. + +Kutuzov seemed preoccupied and did not listen to what the general +was saying. He screwed up his eyes with a dissatisfied look as he +gazed attentively and fixedly at these prisoners, who presented a +specially wretched appearance. Most of them were disfigured by +frost-bitten noses and cheeks, and nearly all had red, swollen and +festering eyes. + +One group of the French stood close to the road, and two of them, +one of whom had his face covered with sores, were tearing a piece of +raw flesh with their hands. There was something horrible and bestial +in the fleeting glance they threw at the riders and in the +malevolent expression with which, after a glance at Kutuzov, the +soldier with the sores immediately turned away and went on with what +he was doing. + +Kutuzov looked long and intently at these two soldiers. He +puckered his face, screwed up his eyes, and pensively swayed his head. +At another spot he noticed a Russian soldier laughingly patting a +Frenchman on the shoulder, saying something to him in a friendly +manner, and Kutuzov with the same expression on his face again +swayed his head. + +"What were you saying?" he asked the general, who continuing his +report directed the commander in chief's attention to some standards +captured from the French and standing in front of the Preobrazhensk +regiment. + +"Ah, the standards!" said Kutuzov, evidently detaching himself +with difficulty from the thoughts that preoccupied him. + +He looked about him absently. Thousands of eyes were looking at +him from all sides awaiting a word from him. + +He stopped in front of the Preobrazhensk regiment, sighed deeply, +and closed his eyes. One of his suite beckoned to the soldiers +carrying the standards to advance and surround the commander in +chief with them. Kutuzov was silent for a few seconds and then, +submitting with evident reluctance to the duty imposed by his +position, raised his head and began to speak. A throng of officers +surrounded him. He looked attentively around at the circle of +officers, recognizing several of them. + +"I thank you all!" he said, addressing the soldiers and then again +the officers. In the stillness around him his slowly uttered words +were distinctly heard. "I thank you all for your hard and faithful +service. The victory is complete and Russia will not forget you! Honor +to you forever." + +He paused and looked around. + +"Lower its head, lower it!" he said to a soldier who had +accidentally lowered the French eagle he was holding before the +Preobrazhensk standards. "Lower, lower, that's it. Hurrah lads!" he +added, addressing the men with a rapid movement of his chin. + +"Hur-r-rah!" roared thousands of voices. + +While the soldiers were shouting Kutuzov leaned forward in his +saddle and bowed his head, and his eye lit up with a mild and +apparently ironic gleam. + +"You see, brothers..." said he when the shouts had ceased... and all +at once his voice and the expression of his face changed. It was no +longer the commander in chief speaking but an ordinary old man who +wanted to tell his comrades something very important. + +There was a stir among the throng of officers and in the ranks of +the soldiers, who moved that they might hear better what he was +going to say. + +"You see, brothers, I know it's hard for you, but it can't be +helped! Bear up; it won't be for long now! We'll see our visitors +off and then we'll rest. The Tsar won't forget your service. It is +hard for you, but still you are at home while they--you see what +they have come to," said he, pointing to the prisoners. "Worse off +than our poorest beggars. While they were strong we didn't spare +ourselves, but now we may even pity them. They are human beings too. +Isn't it so, lads?" + +He looked around, and in the direct, respectful, wondering gaze +fixed upon him he read sympathy with what he had said. His face grew +brighter and brighter with an old man's mild smile, which drew the +corners of his lips and eyes into a cluster of wrinkles. He ceased +speaking and bowed his head as if in perplexity. + +"But after all who asked them here? Serves them right, the bloody +bastards!" he cried, suddenly lifting his head. + +And flourishing his whip he rode off at a gallop for the first +time during the whole campaign, and left the broken ranks of the +soldiers laughing joyfully and shouting "Hurrah!" + +Kutuzov's words were hardly understood by the troops. No one could +have repeated the field marshal's address, begun solemnly and then +changing into an old man's simplehearted talk; but the hearty +sincerity of that speech, the feeling of majestic triumph combined +with pity for the foe and consciousness of the justice of our cause, +exactly expressed by that old man's good-natured expletives, was not +merely understood but lay in the soul of every soldier and found +expression in their joyous and long-sustained shouts. Afterwards +when one of the generals addressed Kutuzov asking whether he wished +his caleche to be sent for, Kutuzov in answering unexpectedly gave a +sob, being evidently greatly moved. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +When the troops reached their night's halting place on the eighth of +November, the last day of the Krasnoe battles, it was already +growing dusk. All day it had been calm and frosty with occasional +lightly falling snow and toward evening it began to clear. Through the +falling snow a purple-black and starry sky showed itself and the frost +grew keener. + +An infantry regiment which had left Tarutino three thousand strong +but now numbered only nine hundred was one of the first to arrive that +night at its halting place--a village on the highroad. The +quartermasters who met the regiment announced that all the huts were +full of sick and dead Frenchmen, cavalrymen, and members of the staff. +There was only one hut available for the regimental commander. + +The commander rode up to his hut. The regiment passed through the +village and stacked its arms in front of the last huts. + +Like some huge many-limbed animal, the regiment began to prepare its +lair and its food. One part of it dispersed and waded knee-deep +through the snow into a birch forest to the right of the village, +and immediately the sound of axes and swords, the crashing of +branches, and merry voices could be heard from there. Another +section amid the regimental wagons and horses which were standing in a +group was busy getting out caldrons and rye biscuit, and feeding the +horses. A third section scattered through the village arranging +quarters for the staff officers, carrying out the French corpses +that were in the huts, and dragging away boards, dry wood, and +thatch from the roofs, for the campfires, or wattle fences to serve +for shelter. + +Some fifteen men with merry shouts were shaking down the high wattle +wall of a shed, the roof of which had already been removed. + +"Now then, all together--shove!" cried the voices, and the huge +surface of the wall, sprinkled with snow and creaking with frost, +was seen swaying in the gloom of the night. The lower stakes cracked +more and more and at last the wall fell, and with it the men who had +been pushing it. Loud, coarse laughter and joyous shouts ensued. + +"Now then, catch hold in twos! Hand up the lever! That's it... Where +are you shoving to?" + +"Now, all together! But wait a moment, boys... With a song!" + +All stood silent, and a soft, pleasant velvety voice began to +sing. At the end of the third verse as the last note died away, twenty +voices roared out at once: "Oo-oo-oo-oo! That's it. All together! +Heave away, boys!..." but despite their united efforts the wattle +hardly moved, and in the silence that followed the heavy breathing +of the men was audible. + +"Here, you of the Sixth Company! Devils that you are! Lend a hand... +will you? You may want us one of these days." + +Some twenty men of the Sixth Company who were on their way into +the village joined the haulers, and the wattle wall, which was about +thirty-five feet long and seven feet high, moved forward along the +village street, swaying, pressing upon and cutting the shoulders of +the gasping men. + +"Get along... Falling? What are you stopping for? There now..." + +Merry senseless words of abuse flowed freely. + +"What are you up to?" suddenly came the authoritative voice of a +sergeant major who came upon the men who were hauling their burden. +"There are gentry here; the general himself is in that hut, and you +foul-mouthed devils, you brutes, I'll give it to you!" shouted he, +hitting the first man who came in his way a swinging blow on the back. +"Can't you make less noise?" + +The men became silent. The soldier who had been struck groaned and +wiped his face, which had been scratched till it bled by his falling +against the wattle. + +"There, how that devil hits out! He's made my face all bloody," said +he in a frightened whisper when the sergeant major had passed on. + +"Don't you like it?" said a laughing voice, and moderating their +tones the men moved forward. + +When they were out of the village they began talking again as loud +as before, interlarding their talk with the same aimless expletives. + +In the hut which the men had passed, the chief officers had gathered +and were in animated talk over their tea about the events of the day +and the maneuvers suggested for tomorrow. It was proposed to make a +flank march to the left, cut off the Vice-King (Murat) and capture +him. + +By the time the soldiers had dragged the wattle fence to its place +the campfires were blazing on all sides ready for cooking, the wood +crackled, the snow was melting, and black shadows of soldiers +flitted to and fro all over the occupied space where the snow had been +trodden down. + +Axes and choppers were plied all around. Everything was done without +any orders being given. Stores of wood were brought for the night, +shelters were rigged up for the officers, caldrons were being +boiled, and muskets and accouterments put in order. + +The wattle wall the men had brought was set up in a semicircle by +the Eighth Company as a shelter from the north, propped up by musket +rests, and a campfire was built before it. They beat the tattoo, +called the roll, had supper, and settled down round the fires for +the night--some repairing their footgear, some smoking pipes, and some +stripping themselves naked to steam the lice out of their shirts. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +One would have thought that under the almost incredibly wretched +conditions the Russian soldiers were in at that time--lacking warm +boots and sheepskin coats, without a roof over their heads, in the +snow with eighteen degrees of frost, and without even full rations +(the commissariat did not always keep up with the troops)--they +would have presented a very sad and depressing spectacle. + +On the contrary, the army had never under the best material +conditions presented a more cheerful and animated aspect. This was +because all who began to grow depressed or who lost strength were +sifted out of the army day by day. All the physically or morally +weak had long since been left behind and only the flower of the +army--physically and mentally--remained. + +More men collected behind the wattle fence of the Eighth Company +than anywhere else. Two sergeants major were sitting with them and +their campfire blazed brighter than others. For leave to sit by +their wattle they demanded contributions of fuel. + +"Eh, Makeev! What has become of you, you son of a bitch? Are you +lost or have the wolves eaten you? Fetch some more wood!" shouted a +red-haired and red-faced man, screwing up his eyes and blinking +because of the smoke but not moving back from the fire. "And you, +Jackdaw, go and fetch some wood!" said he to another soldier. + +This red-haired man was neither a sergeant nor a corporal, but being +robust he ordered about those weaker than himself. The soldier they +called "Jackdaw," a thin little fellow with a sharp nose, rose +obediently and was about to go but at that instant there came into the +light of the fire the slender, handsome figure of a young soldier +carrying a load of wood. + +"Bring it here--that's fine!" + +They split up the wood, pressed it down on the fire, blew at it with +their mouths, and fanned it with the skirts of their greatcoats, +making the flames hiss and crackle. The men drew nearer and lit +their pipes. The handsome young soldier who had brought the wood, +setting his arms akimbo, began stamping his cold feet rapidly and +deftly on the spot where he stood. + +"Mother! The dew is cold but clear.... It's well that I'm a +musketeer..." he sang, pretending to hiccough after each syllable. + +"Look out, your soles will fly off!" shouted the red-haired man, +noticing that the sole of the dancer's boot was hanging loose. "What a +fellow you are for dancing!" + +The dancer stopped, pulled off the loose piece of leather, and threw +it on the fire. + +"Right enough, friend," said he, and, having sat down, took out of +his knapsack a scrap of blue French cloth, and wrapped it round his +foot. "It's the steam that spoils them," he added, stretching out +his feet toward the fire. + +"They'll soon be issuing us new ones. They say that when we've +finished hammering them, we're to receive double kits!" + +"And that son of a bitch Petrov has lagged behind after all, it +seems," said one sergeant major. + +"I've had an eye on him this long while," said the other. + +"Well, he's a poor sort of soldier..." + +"But in the Third Company they say nine men were missing yesterday." + +"Yes, it's all very well, but when a man's feet are frozen how can +he walk?" + +"Eh? Don't talk nonsense!" said a sergeant major. + +"Do you want to be doing the same?" said an old soldier, turning +reproachfully to the man who had spoken of frozen feet. + +"Well, you know," said the sharp-nosed man they called Jackdaw in +a squeaky and unsteady voice, raising himself at the other side of the +fire, "a plump man gets thin, but for a thin one it's death. Take +me, now! I've got no strength left," he added, with sudden +resolution turning to the sergeant major. "Tell them to send me to +hospital; I'm aching all over; anyway I shan't be able to keep up." + +"That'll do, that'll do!" replied the sergeant major quietly. + +The soldier said no more and the talk went on. + +"What a lot of those Frenchies were taken today, and the fact is +that not one of them had what you might call real boots on," said a +soldier, starting a new theme. "They were no more than make-believes." + +"The Cossacks have taken their boots. They were clearing the hut for +the colonel and carried them out. It was pitiful to see them, boys," +put in the dancer. "As they turned them over one seemed still alive +and, would you believe it, he jabbered something in their lingo." + +"But they're a clean folk, lads," the first man went on; "he was +white--as white as birchbark--and some of them are such fine +fellows, you might think they were nobles." + +"Well, what do you think? They make soldiers of all classes there." + +"But they don't understand our talk at all," said the dancer with +a puzzled smile. "I asked him whose subject he was, and he jabbered in +his own way. A queer lot!" + +"But it's strange, friends," continued the man who had wondered at +their whiteness, "the peasants at Mozhaysk were saying that when +they began burying the dead--where the battle was you know--well, +those dead had been lying there for nearly a month, and says the +peasant, 'they lie as white as paper, clean, and not as much smell +as a puff of powder smoke.'" + +"Was it from the cold?" asked someone. + +"You're a clever fellow! From the cold indeed! Why, it was hot. If +it had been from the cold, ours would not have rotted either. 'But,' +he says, 'go up to ours and they are all rotten and maggoty. So,' he +says, 'we tie our faces up with kerchiefs and turn our heads away as +we drag them off: we can hardly do it. But theirs,' he says, 'are +white as paper and not so much smell as a whiff of gunpowder.'" + +All were silent. + +"It must be from their food," said the sergeant major. "They used to +gobble the same food as the gentry." + +No one contradicted him. + +"That peasant near Mozhaysk where the battle was said the men were +all called up from ten villages around and they carted for twenty days +and still didn't finish carting the dead away. And as for the +wolves, he says..." + +"That was a real battle," said an old soldier. "It's the only one +worth remembering; but since that... it's only been tormenting folk." + +"And do you know, Daddy, the day before yesterday we ran at them +and, my word, they didn't let us get near before they just threw +down their muskets and went on their knees. 'Pardon!' they say. That's +only one case. They say Platov took 'Poleon himself twice. But he +didn't know the right charm. He catches him and catches him--no +good! He turns into a bird in his hands and flies away. And there's no +way of killing him either." + +"You're a first-class liar, Kiselev, when I come to look at you!" + +"Liar, indeed! It's the real truth." + +"If he fell into my hands, when I'd caught him I'd bury him in the +ground with an aspen stake to fix him down. What a lot of men he's +ruined!" + +"Well, anyhow we're going to end it. He won't come here again," +remarked the old soldier, yawning. + +The conversation flagged, and the soldiers began settling down to +sleep. + +"Look at the stars. It's wonderful how they shine! You would think +the women had spread out their linen," said one of the men, gazing +with admiration at the Milky Way. + +"That's a sign of a good harvest next year." + +"We shall want some more wood." + +"You warm your back and your belly gets frozen. That's queer." + +"O Lord!" + +"What are you pushing for? Is the fire only for you? Look how he's +sprawling!" + +In the silence that ensued, the snoring of those who had fallen +asleep could be heard. Others turned over and warmed themselves, now +and again exchanging a few words. From a campfire a hundred paces +off came a sound of general, merry laughter. + +"Hark at them roaring there in the Fifth Company!" said one of the +soldiers, "and what a lot of them there are!" + +One of the men got up and went over to the Fifth Company. + +"They're having such fun," said he, coming back. "Two Frenchies have +turned up. One's quite frozen and the other's an awful swaggerer. He's +singing songs...." + +"Oh, I'll go across and have a look...." + +And several of the men went over to the Fifth Company. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The fifth company was bivouacking at the very edge of the forest. +A huge campfire was blazing brightly in the midst of the snow, +lighting up the branches of trees heavy with hoarfrost. + +About midnight they heard the sound of steps in the snow of the +forest, and the crackling of dry branches. + +"A bear, lads," said one of the men. + +They all raised their heads to listen, and out of the forest into +the bright firelight stepped two strangely clad human figures clinging +to one another. + +These were two Frenchmen who had been hiding in the forest. They +came up to the fire, hoarsely uttering something in a language our +soldiers did not understand. One was taller than the other; he wore an +officer's hat and seemed quite exhausted. On approaching the fire he +had been going to sit down, but fell. The other, a short sturdy +soldier with a shawl tied round his head, was stronger. He raised +his companion and said something, pointing to his mouth. The +soldiers surrounded the Frenchmen, spread a greatcoat on the ground +for the sick man, and brought some buckwheat porridge and vodka for +both of them. + +The exhausted French officer was Ramballe and the man with his +head wrapped in the shawl was Morel, his orderly. + +When Morel had drunk some vodka and finished his bowl of porridge he +suddenly became unnaturally merry and chattered incessantly to the +soldiers, who could not understand him. Ramballe refused food and +resting his head on his elbow lay silent beside the campfire, +looking at the Russian soldiers with red and vacant eyes. Occasionally +he emitted a long-drawn groan and then again became silent. Morel, +pointing to his shoulders, tried to impress on the soldiers the fact +that Ramballe was an officer and ought to be warmed. A Russian officer +who had come up to the fire sent to ask his colonel whether he would +not take a French officer into his hut to warm him, and when the +messenger returned and said that the colonel wished the officer to +be brought to him, Ramballe was told to go. He rose and tried to walk, +but staggered and would have fallen had not a soldier standing by held +him up. + +"You won't do it again, eh?" said one of the soldiers, winking and +turning mockingly to Ramballe. + +"Oh, you fool! Why talk rubbish, lout that you are--a real peasant!" +came rebukes from all sides addressed to the jesting soldier. + +They surrounded Ramballe, lifted him on the crossed arms of two +soldiers, and carried him to the hut. Ramballe put his arms around +their necks while they carried him and began wailing plaintively: + +"Oh, you fine fellows, my kind, kind friends! These are men! Oh, +my brave, kind friends," and he leaned his head against the shoulder +of one of the men like a child. + +Meanwhile Morel was sitting in the best place by the fire, +surrounded by the soldiers. + +Morel, a short sturdy Frenchman with inflamed and streaming eyes, +was wearing a woman's cloak and had a shawl tied woman fashion round +his head over his cap. He was evidently tipsy, and was singing a +French song in a hoarse broken voice, with an arm thrown round the +nearest soldier. The soldiers simply held their sides as they +watched him. + +"Now then, now then, teach us how it goes! I'll soon pick it up. How +is it?" said the man--a singer and a wag--whom Morel was embracing. + +"Vive Henri Quatre! Vive ce roi valiant!" sang Morel, winking. "Ce +diable a quatre..."* + + +*"Long live Henry the Fourth, that valiant king! That rowdy devil." + + +"Vivarika! Vif-seruvaru! Sedyablyaka!" repeated the soldier, +flourishing his arm and really catching the tune. + +"Bravo! Ha, ha, ha!" rose their rough, joyous laughter from all +sides. + +Morel, wrinkling up his face, laughed too. + +"Well, go on, go on!" + + "Qui eut le triple talent, + De boire, de battre, + Et d'etre un vert galant."* + + +*Who had a triple talent + + + For drinking, for fighting, + + And for being a gallant old boy... + + +"It goes smoothly, too. Well, now, Zaletaev!" + +"Ke..." Zaletaev, brought out with effort: "ke-e-e-e," he drawled, +laboriously pursing his lips, "le-trip-ta-la-de-bu-de-ba, e +de-tra-va-ga-la" he sang. + +"Fine! Just like the Frenchie! Oh, ho ho! Do you want some more to +eat?" + +"Give him some porridge: it takes a long time to get filled up after +starving." + +They gave him some more porridge and Morel with a laugh set to +work on his third bowl. All the young soldiers smiled gaily as they +watched him. The older men, who thought it undignified to amuse +themselves with such nonsense, continued to lie at the opposite side +of the fire, but one would occasionally raise himself on an elbow +and glance at Morel with a smile. + +"They are men too," said one of them as he wrapped himself up in his +coat. "Even wormwood grows on its own root." + +"O Lord, O Lord! How starry it is! Tremendous! That means a hard +frost...." + +They all grew silent. The stars, as if knowing that no one was +looking at them, began to disport themselves in the dark sky: now +flaring up, now vanishing, now trembling, they were busy whispering +something gladsome and mysterious to one another. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The French army melted away at the uniform rate of a mathematical +progression; and that crossing of the Berezina about which so much has +been written was only one intermediate stage in its destruction, and +not at all the decisive episode of the campaign. If so much has been +and still is written about the Berezina, on the French side this is +only because at the broken bridge across that river the calamities +their army had been previously enduring were suddenly concentrated +at one moment into a tragic spectacle that remained in every memory, +and on the Russian side merely because in Petersburg--far from the +seat of war--a plan (again one of Pfuel's) had been devised to catch +Napoleon in a strategic trap at the Berezina River. Everyone assured +himself that all would happen according to plan, and therefore +insisted that it was just the crossing of the Berezina that +destroyed the French army. In reality the results of the crossing were +much less disastrous to the French--in guns and men lost--than Krasnoe +had been, as the figures show. + +The sole importance of the crossing of the Berezina lies in the fact +that it plainly and indubitably proved the fallacy of all the plans +for cutting off the enemy's retreat and the soundness of the only +possible line of action--the one Kutuzov and the general mass of the +army demanded--namely, simply to follow the enemy up. The French crowd +fled at a continually increasing speed and all its energy was directed +to reaching its goal. It fled like a wounded animal and it was +impossible to block its path. This was shown not so much by the +arrangements it made for crossing as by what took place at the +bridges. When the bridges broke down, unarmed soldiers, people from +Moscow and women with children who were with the French transport, +all--carried on by vis inertiae--pressed forward into boats and into +the ice-covered water and did not, surrender. + +That impulse was reasonable. The condition of fugitives and of +pursuers was equally bad. As long as they remained with their own +people each might hope for help from his fellows and the definite +place he held among them. But those who surrendered, while remaining +in the same pitiful plight, would be on a lower level to claim a share +in the necessities of life. The French did not need to be informed +of the fact that half the prisoners--with whom the Russians did not +know what to do--perished of cold and hunger despite their captors' +desire to save them; they felt that it could not be otherwise. The +most compassionate Russian commanders, those favorable to the +French--and even the Frenchmen in the Russian service--could do +nothing for the prisoners. The French perished from the conditions +to which the Russian army was itself exposed. It was impossible to +take bread and clothes from our hungry and indispensable soldiers to +give to the French who, though not harmful, or hated, or guilty, +were simply unnecessary. Some Russians even did that, but they were +exceptions. + +Certain destruction lay behind the French but in front there was +hope. Their ships had been burned, there was no salvation save in +collective flight, and on that the whole strength of the French was +concentrated. + +The farther they fled the more wretched became the plight of the +remnant, especially after the Berezina, on which (in consequence of +the Petersburg plan) special hopes had been placed by the Russians, +and the keener grew the passions of the Russian commanders, who blamed +one another and Kutuzov most of all. Anticipation that the failure of +the Petersburg Berezina plan would be attributed to Kutuzov led to +dissatisfaction, contempt, and ridicule, more and more strongly +expressed. The ridicule and contempt were of course expressed in a +respectful form, making it impossible for him to ask wherein he was to +blame. They did not talk seriously to him; when reporting to him or +asking for his sanction they appeared to be fulfilling a regrettable +formality, but they winked behind his back and tried to mislead him at +every turn. + +Because they could not understand him all these people assumed +that it was useless to talk to the old man; that he would never +grasp the profundity of their plans, that he would answer with his +phrases (which they thought were mere phrases) about a "golden +bridge," about the impossibility of crossing the frontier with a crowd +of tatterdemalions, and so forth. They had heard all that before. +And all he said--that it was necessary to await provisions, or that +the men had no boots--was so simple, while what they proposed was so +complicated and clever, that it was evident that he was old and stupid +and that they, though not in power, were commanders of genius. + +After the junction with the army of the brilliant admiral and +Petersburg hero Wittgenstein, this mood and the gossip of the staff +reached their maximum. Kutuzov saw this and merely sighed and shrugged +his shoulders. Only once, after the affair of the Berezina, did he get +angry and write to Bennigsen (who reported separately to the +Emperor) the following letter: + +"On account of your spells of ill health, will your excellency +please be so good as to set off for Kaluga on receipt of this, and +there await further commands and appointments from His Imperial +Majesty." + +But after Bennigsen's departure, the Grand Duke Tsarevich +Constantine Pavlovich joined the army. He had taken part in the +beginning of the campaign but had subsequently been removed from the +army by Kutuzov. Now having come to the army, he informed Kutuzov of +the Emperor's displeasure at the poor success of our forces and the +slowness of their advance. The Emperor intended to join the army +personally in a few days' time. + +The old man, experienced in court as well as in military affairs--this +same Kutuzov who in August had been chosen commander in chief against +the sovereign's wishes and who had removed the Grand Duke and +heir--apparent from the army--who on his own authority and contrary to +the Emperor's will had decided on the abandonment of Moscow, now +realized at once that his day was over, that his part was played, and +that the power he was supposed to hold was no longer his. And he +understood this not merely from the attitude of the court. He saw on +the one hand that the military business in which he had played his +part was ended and felt that his mission was accomplished; and at the +same time he began to be conscious of the physical weariness of his +aged body and of the necessity of physical rest. + +On the twenty-ninth of November Kutuzov entered Vilna--his "dear +Vilna" as he called it. Twice during his career Kutuzov had been +governor of Vilna. In that wealthy town, which had not been injured, +he found old friends and associations, besides the comforts of life of +which he had so long been deprived. And he suddenly turned from the +cares of army and state and, as far as the passions that seethed +around him allowed, immersed himself in the quiet life to which he had +formerly been accustomed, as if all that was taking place and all that +had still to be done in the realm of history did not concern him at +all. + +Chichagov, one of the most zealous "cutters-off" and +"breakers-up," who had first wanted to effect a diversion in Greece +and then in Warsaw but never wished to go where he was sent: +Chichagov, noted for the boldness with which he spoke to the +Emperor, and who considered Kutuzov to be under an obligation to him +because when he was sent to make peace with Turkey in 1811 +independently of Kutuzov, and found that peace had already been +concluded, he admitted to the Emperor that the merit of securing +that peace was really Kutuzov's; this Chichagov was the first to +meet Kutuzov at the castle where the latter was to stay. In undress +naval uniform, with a dirk, and holding his cap under his arm, he +handed Kutuzov a garrison report and the keys of the town. The +contemptuously respectful attitude of the younger men to the old man +in his dotage was expressed in the highest degree by the behavior of +Chichagov, who knew of the accusations that were being directed +against Kutuzov. + +When speaking to Chichagov, Kutuzov incidentally mentioned that +the vehicles packed with china that had been captured from him at +Borisov had been recovered and would be restored to him. + +"You mean to imply that I have nothing to eat out of.... On the +contrary, I can supply you with everything even if you want to give +dinner parties," warmly replied Chichagov, who tried by every word +he spoke to prove his own rectitude and therefore imagined Kutuzov +to be animated by the same desire. + +Kutuzov, shrugging his shoulders, replied with his subtle +penetrating smile: "I meant merely to say what I said." + +Contrary to the Emperor's wish Kutuzov detained the greater part +of the army at Vilna. Those about him said that he became +extraordinarily slack and physically feeble during his stay in that +town. He attended to army affairs reluctantly, left everything to +his generals, and while awaiting the Emperor's arrival led a +dissipated life. + +Having left Petersburg on the seventh of December with his +suite--Count Tolstoy, Prince Volkonski, Arakcheev, and others--the +Emperor reached Vilna on the eleventh, and in his traveling sleigh +drove straight to the castle. In spite of the severe frost some +hundred generals and staff officers in full parade uniform stood in +front of the castle, as well as a guard of honor of the Semenov +regiment. + +A courier who galloped to the castle in advance, in a troyka with +three foam-flecked horses, shouted "Coming!" and Konovnitsyn rushed +into the vestibule to inform Kutuzov, who was waiting in the hall +porter's little lodge. + +A minute later the old man's large stout figure in full-dress +uniform, his chest covered with orders and a scarf drawn round his +stomach, waddled out into the porch. He put on his hat with its +peaks to the sides and, holding his gloves in his hand and walking +with an effort sideways down the steps to the level of the street, +took in his hand the report he had prepared for the Emperor. + +There was running to and fro and whispering; another troyka flew +furiously up, and then all eyes were turned on an approaching sleigh +in which the figures of the Emperor and Volkonski could already be +descried. + +From the habit of fifty years all this had a physically agitating +effect on the old general. He carefully and hastily felt himself all +over, readjusted his hat, and pulling himself together drew himself up +and, at the very moment when the Emperor, having alighted from the +sleigh, lifted his eyes to him, handed him the report and began +speaking in his smooth, ingratiating voice. + +The Emperor with a rapid glance scanned Kutuzov from head to foot, +frowned for an instant, but immediately mastering himself went up to +the old man, extended his arms and embraced him. And this embrace too, +owing to a long-standing impression related to his innermost feelings, +had its usual effect on Kutuzov and he gave a sob. + +The Emperor greeted the officers and the Semenov guard, and again +pressing the old man's hand went with him into the castle. + +When alone with the field marshal the Emperor expressed his +dissatisfaction at the slowness of the pursuit and at the mistakes +made at Krasnoe and the Berezina, and informed him of his intentions +for a future campaign abroad. Kutuzov made no rejoinder or remark. The +same submissive, expressionless look with which he had listened to the +Emperor's commands on the field of Austerlitz seven years before +settled on his face now. + +When Kutuzov came out of the study and with lowered head was +crossing the ballroom with his heavy waddling gait, he was arrested by +someone's voice saying: + +"Your Serene Highness!" + +Kutuzov raised his head and looked for a long while into the eyes of +Count Tolstoy, who stood before him holding a silver salver on which +lay a small object. Kutuzov seemed not to understand what was expected +of him. + +Suddenly he seemed to remember; a scarcely perceptible smile flashed +across his puffy face, and bowing low and respectfully he took the +object that lay on the salver. It was the Order of St. George of the +First Class. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Next day the field marshal gave a dinner and ball which the +Emperor honored by his presence. Kutuzov had received the Order of St. +George of the First Class and the Emperor showed him the highest +honors, but everyone knew of the imperial dissatisfaction with him. +The proprieties were observed and the Emperor was the first to set +that example, but everybody understood that the old man was +blameworthy and good-for-nothing. When Kutuzov, conforming to a custom +of Catherine's day, ordered the standards that had been captured to be +lowered at the Emperor's feet on his entering the ballroom, the +Emperor made a wry face and muttered something in which some people +caught the words, "the old comedian." + +The Emperor's displeasure with Kutuzov was specially increased at +Vilna by the fact that Kutuzov evidently could not or would not +understand the importance of the coming campaign. + +When on the following morning the Emperor said to the officers +assembled about him: "You have not only saved Russia, you have saved +Europe!" they all understood that the war was not ended. + +Kutuzov alone would not see this and openly expressed his opinion +that no fresh war could improve the position or add to the glory of +Russia, but could only spoil and lower the glorious position that +Russia had gained. He tried to prove to the Emperor the +impossibility of levying fresh troops, spoke of the hardships +already endured by the people, of the possibility of failure and so +forth. + +This being the field marshal's frame of mind he was naturally +regarded as merely a hindrance and obstacle to the impending war. + +To avoid unpleasant encounters with the old man, the natural +method was to do what had been done with him at Austerlitz and with +Barclay at the beginning of the Russian campaign--to transfer the +authority to the Emperor himself, thus cutting the ground from under +the commander in chief's feet without upsetting the old man by +informing him of the change. + +With this object his staff was gradually reconstructed and its +real strength removed and transferred to the Emperor. Toll, +Konovnitsyn, and Ermolov received fresh appointments. Everyone spoke +loudly of the field marshal's great weakness and failing health. + +His health had to be bad for his place to be taken away and given to +another. And in fact his health was poor. + +So naturally, simply, and gradually--just as he had come from Turkey +to the Treasury in Petersburg to recruit the militia, and then to +the army when he was needed there--now when his part was played out, +Kutuzov's place was taken by a new and necessary performer. + +The war of 1812, besides its national significance dear to every +Russian heart, was now to assume another, a European, significance. + +The movement of peoples from west to east was to be succeeded by a +movement of peoples from east to west, and for this fresh war +another leader was necessary, having qualities and views differing +from Kutuzov's and animated by different motives. + +Alexander I was as necessary for the movement of the peoples from +east to west and for the refixing of national frontiers as Kutuzov had +been for the salvation and glory of Russia. + +Kutuzov did not understand what Europe, the balance of power, or +Napoleon meant. He could not understand it. For the representative +of the Russian people, after the enemy had been destroyed and Russia +had been liberated and raised to the summit of her glory, there was +nothing left to do as a Russian. Nothing remained for the +representative of the national war but to die, and Kutuzov died. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +As generally happens, Pierre did not feel the full effects of the +physical privation and strain he had suffered as prisoner until +after they were over. After his liberation he reached Orel, and on the +third day there, when preparing to go to Kiev, he fell ill and was +laid up for three months. He had what the doctors termed "bilious +fever." But despite the fact that the doctors treated him, bled him, +and gave him medicines to drink, he recovered. + +Scarcely any impression was left on Pierre's mind by all that +happened to him from the time of his rescue till his illness. He +remembered only the dull gray weather now rainy and now snowy, +internal physical distress, and pains in his feet and side. He +remembered a general impression of the misfortunes and sufferings of +people and of being worried by the curiosity of officers and +generals who questioned him, he also remembered his difficulty in +procuring a conveyance and horses, and above all he remembered his +incapacity to think and feel all that time. On the day of his rescue +he had seen the body of Petya Rostov. That same day he had learned +that Prince Andrew, after surviving the battle of Borodino for more +than a month had recently died in the Rostovs' house at Yaroslavl, and +Denisov who told him this news also mentioned Helene's death, +supposing that Pierre had heard of it long before. All this at the +time seemed merely strange to Pierre: he felt he could not grasp its +significance. Just then he was only anxious to get away as quickly +as possible from places where people were killing one another, to some +peaceful refuge where he could recover himself, rest, and think over +all the strange new facts he had learned; but on reaching Orel he +immediately fell ill. When he came to himself after his illness he saw +in attendance on him two of his servants, Terenty and Vaska, who had +come from Moscow; and also his cousin the eldest princess, who had +been living on his estate at Elets and hearing of his rescue and +illness had come to look after him. + +It was only gradually during his convalescence that Pierre lost +the impressions he had become accustomed to during the last few months +and got used to the idea that no one would oblige him to go anywhere +tomorrow, that no one would deprive him of his warm bed, and that he +would be sure to get his dinner, tea, and supper. But for a long +time in his dreams he still saw himself in the conditions of +captivity. In the same way little by little he came to understand +the news he had been told after his rescue, about the death of +Prince Andrew, the death of his wife, and the destruction of the +French. + +A joyous feeling of freedom--that complete inalienable freedom +natural to man which he had first experienced at the first halt +outside Moscow--filled Pierre's soul during his convalescence. He +was surprised to find that this inner freedom, which was independent +of external conditions, now had as it were an additional setting of +external liberty. He was alone in a strange town, without +acquaintances. No one demanded anything of him or sent him anywhere. +He had all he wanted: the thought of his wife which had been a +continual torment to him was no longer there, since she was no more. + +"Oh, how good! How splendid!" said he to himself when a cleanly laid +table was moved up to him with savory beef tea, or when he lay down +for the night on a soft clean bed, or when he remembered that the +French had gone and that his wife was no more. "Oh, how good, how +splendid!" + +And by old habit he asked himself the question: "Well, and what +then? What am I going to do?" And he immediately gave himself the +answer: "Well, I shall live. Ah, how splendid!" + +The very question that had formerly tormented him, the thing he +had continually sought to find--the aim of life--no longer existed for +him now. That search for the aim of life had not merely disappeared +temporarily--he felt that it no longer existed for him and could not +present itself again. And this very absence of an aim gave him the +complete, joyous sense of freedom which constituted his happiness at +this time. + +He could not see an aim, for he now had faith--not faith in any kind +of rule, or words, or ideas, but faith in an ever-living, +ever-manifest God. Formerly he had sought Him in aims he set +himself. That search for an aim had been simply a search for God, +and suddenly in his captivity he had learned not by words or reasoning +but by direct feeling what his nurse had told him long ago: that God +is here and everywhere. In his captivity he had learned that in +Karataev God was greater, more infinite and unfathomable than in the +Architect of the Universe recognized by the Freemasons. He felt like a +man who after straining his eyes to see into the far distance finds +what he sought at his very feet. All his life he had looked over the +heads of the men around him, when he should have merely looked in +front of him without straining his eyes. + +In the past he had never been able to find that great inscrutable +infinite something. He had only felt that it must exist somewhere +and had looked for it. In everything near and comprehensible he had +only what was limited, petty, commonplace, and senseless. He had +equipped himself with a mental telescope and looked into remote space, +where petty worldliness hiding itself in misty distance had seemed +to him great and infinite merely because it was not clearly seen. +And such had European life, politics, Freemasonry, philosophy, and +philanthropy seemed to him. But even then, at moments of weakness as +he had accounted them, his mind had penetrated to those distances +and he had there seen the same pettiness, worldliness, and +senselessness. Now, however, he had learned to see the great, eternal, +and infinite in everything, and therefore--to see it and enjoy its +contemplation--he naturally threw away the telescope through which +he had till now gazed over men's heads, and gladly regarded the +ever-changing, eternally great, unfathomable, and infinite life around +him. And the closer he looked the more tranquil and happy he became. +That dreadful question, "What for?" which had formerly destroyed all +his mental edifices, no longer existed for him. To that question, +"What for?" a simple answer was now always ready in his soul: "Because +there is a God, that God without whose will not one hair falls from +a man's head." + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +In external ways Pierre had hardly changed at all. In appearance +he was just what he used to be. As before he was absent-minded and +seemed occupied not with what was before his eyes but with something +special of his own. The difference between his former and present self +was that formerly when he did not grasp what lay before him or was +said to him, he had puckered his forehead painfully as if vainly +seeking to distinguish something at a distance. At present he still +forgot what was said to him and still did not see what was before +his eyes, but he now looked with a scarcely perceptible and +seemingly ironic smile at what was before him and listened to what was +said, though evidently seeing and hearing something quite different. +Formerly he had appeared to be a kindhearted but unhappy man, and so +people had been inclined to avoid him. Now a smile at the joy of +life always played round his lips, and sympathy for others, shone in +his eyes with a questioning look as to whether they were as +contented as he was, and people felt pleased by his presence. + +Previously he had talked a great deal, grew excited when he +talked, and seldom listened; now he was seldom carried away in +conversation and knew how to listen so that people readily told him +their most intimate secrets. + +The princess, who had never liked Pierre and had been particularly +hostile to him since she had felt herself under obligations to him +after the old count's death, now after staying a short time in +Orel--where she had come intending to show Pierre that in spite of his +ingratitude she considered it her duty to nurse him--felt to her +surprise and vexation that she had become fond of him. Pierre did not +in any way seek her approval, he merely studied her with interest. +Formerly she had felt that he regarded her with indifference and +irony, and so had shrunk into herself as she did with others and had +shown him only the combative side of her nature; but now he seemed to +be trying to understand the most intimate places of her heart, and, +mistrustfully at first but afterwards gratefully, she let him see the +hidden, kindly sides of her character. + +The most cunning man could not have crept into her confidence more +successfully, evoking memories of the best times of her youth and +showing sympathy with them. Yet Pierre's cunning consisted simply in +finding pleasure in drawing out the human qualities of the embittered, +hard, and (in her own way) proud princess. + +"Yes, he is a very, very kind man when he is not under the influence +of bad people but of people such as myself," thought she. + +His servants too--Terenty and Vaska--in their own way noticed the +change that had taken place in Pierre. They considered that he had +become much "simpler." Terenty, when he had helped him undress and +wished him good night, often lingered with his master's boots in his +hands and clothes over his arm, to see whether he would not start a +talk. And Pierre, noticing that Terenty wanted a chat, generally +kept him there. + +"Well, tell me... now, how did you get food?" he would ask. + +And Terenty would begin talking of the destruction of Moscow, and of +the old count, and would stand for a long time holding the clothes and +talking, or sometimes listening to Pierre's stories, and then would go +out into the hall with a pleasant sense of intimacy with his master +and affection for him. + +The doctor who attended Pierre and visited him every day, though +he considered it his duty as a doctor to pose as a man whose every +moment was of value to suffering humanity, would sit for hours with +Pierre telling him his favorite anecdotes and his observations on +the characters of his patients in general, and especially of the +ladies. + +"It's a pleasure to talk to a man like that; he is not like our +provincials," he would say. + +There were several prisoners from the French army in Orel, and the +doctor brought one of them, a young Italian, to see Pierre. + +This officer began visiting Pierre, and the princess used to make +fun of the tenderness the Italian expressed for him. + +The Italian seemed happy only when he could come to see Pierre, talk +with him, tell him about his past, his life at home, and his love, and +pour out to him his indignation against the French and especially +against Napoleon. + +"If all Russians are in the least like you, it is sacrilege to fight +such a nation," he said to Pierre. "You, who have suffered so from the +French, do not even feel animosity toward them." + +Pierre had evoked the passionate affection of the Italian merely +by evoking the best side of his nature and taking a pleasure in so +doing. + +During the last days of Pierre's stay in Orel his old Masonic +acquaintance Count Willarski, who had introduced him to the lodge in +1807, came to see him. Willarski was married to a Russian heiress +who had a large estate in Orel province, and he occupied a temporary +post in the commissariat department in that town. + +Hearing that Bezukhov was in Orel, Willarski, though they had +never been intimate, came to him with the professions of friendship +and intimacy that people who meet in a desert generally express for +one another. Willarski felt dull in Orel and was pleased to meet a man +of his own circle and, as he supposed, of similar interests. + +But to his surprise Willarski soon noticed that Pierre had lagged +much behind the times, and had sunk, as he expressed it to himself, +into apathy and egotism. + +"You are letting yourself go, my dear fellow," he said. + +But for all that Willarski found it pleasanter now than it had +been formerly to be with Pierre, and came to see him every day. To +Pierre as he looked at and listened to Willarski, it seemed strange to +think that he had been like that himself but a short time before. + +Willarski was a married man with a family, busy with his family +affairs, his wife's affairs, and his official duties. He regarded +all these occupations as hindrances to life, and considered that +they were all contemptible because their aim was the welfare of +himself and his family. Military, administrative, political, and +Masonic interests continually absorbed his attention. And Pierre, +without trying to change the other's views and without condemning him, +but with the quiet, joyful, and amused smile now habitual to him, +was interested in this strange though very familiar phenomenon. + +There was a new feature in Pierre's relations with Willarski, with +the princess, with the doctor, and with all the people he now met, +which gained for him the general good will. This was his +acknowledgment of the impossibility of changing a man's convictions by +words, and his recognition of the possibility of everyone thinking, +feeling, and seeing things each from his own point of view. This +legitimate peculiarity of each individual which used to excite and +irritate Pierre now became a basis of the sympathy he felt for, and +the interest he took in, other people. The difference, and sometimes +complete contradiction, between men's opinions and their lives, and +between one man and another, pleased him and drew from him an amused +and gentle smile. + +In practical matters Pierre unexpectedly felt within himself a +center of gravity he had previously lacked. Formerly all pecuniary +questions, especially requests for money to which, as an extremely +wealthy man, he was very exposed, produced in him a state of +hopeless agitation and perplexity. "To give or not to give?" he had +asked himself. "I have it and he needs it. But someone else needs it +still more. Who needs it most? And perhaps they are both impostors?" +In the old days he had been unable to find a way out of all these +surmises and had given to all who asked as long as he had anything +to give. Formerly he had been in a similar state of perplexity with +regard to every question concerning his property, when one person +advised one thing and another something else. + +Now to his surprise he found that he no longer felt either doubt +or perplexity about these questions. There was now within him a +judge who by some rule unknown to him decided what should or should +not be done. + +He was as indifferent as heretofore to money matters, but now he +felt certain of what ought and what ought not to be done. The first +time he had recourse to his new judge was when a French prisoner, a +colonel, came to him and, after talking a great deal about his +exploits, concluded by making what amounted to a demand that Pierre +should give him four thousand francs to send to his wife and children. +Pierre refused without the least difficulty or effort, and was +afterwards surprised how simple and easy had been what used to +appear so insurmountably difficult. At the same time that he refused +the colonel's demand he made up his mind that he must have recourse to +artifice when leaving Orel, to induce the Italian officer to accept +some money of which he was evidently in need. A further proof to +Pierre of his own more settled outlook on practical matters was +furnished by his decision with regard to his wife's debts and to the +rebuilding of his houses in and near Moscow. + +His head steward came to him at Orel and Pierre reckoned up with him +his diminished income. The burning of Moscow had cost him, according +to the head steward's calculation, about two million rubles. + +To console Pierre for these losses the head steward gave him an +estimate showing that despite these losses his income would not be +diminished but would even be increased if he refused to pay his wife's +debts which he was under no obligation to meet, and did not rebuild +his Moscow house and the country house on his Moscow estate, which had +cost him eighty thousand rubles a year and brought in nothing. + +"Yes, of course that's true," said Pierre with a cheerful smile. +"I don't need all that at all. By being ruined I have become much +richer." + +But in January Savelich came from Moscow and gave him an account +of the state of things there, and spoke of the estimate an architect +had made of the cost of rebuilding the town and country houses, +speaking of this as of a settled matter. About the same time he +received letters from Prince Vasili and other Petersburg acquaintances +speaking of his wife's debts. And Pierre decided that the steward's +proposals which had so pleased him were wrong and that he must go to +Petersburg and settle his wife's affairs and must rebuild in Moscow. +Why this was necessary he did not know, but he knew for certain that +it was necessary. His income would be reduced by three fourths, but he +felt it must be done. + +Willarski was going to Moscow and they agreed to travel together. + +During the whole time of his convalescence in Orel Pierre had +experienced a feeling of joy, freedom, and life; but when during his +journey he found himself in the open world and saw hundreds of new +faces, that feeling was intensified. Throughout his journey he felt +like a schoolboy on holiday. Everyone--the stagecoach driver, the +post-house overseers, the peasants on the roads and in the +villages--had a new significance for him. The presence and remarks of +Willarski who continually deplored the ignorance and poverty of Russia +and its backwardness compared with Europe only heightened Pierre's +pleasure. Where Willarski saw deadness Pierre saw an extraordinary +strength and vitality--the strength which in that vast space amid the +snows maintained the life of this original, peculiar, and unique +people. He did not contradict Willarski and even seemed to agree with +him--an apparent agreement being the simplest way to avoid discussions +that could lead to nothing--and he smiled joyfully as he listened to +him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +It would be difficult to explain why and whither ants whose heap has +been destroyed are hurrying: some from the heap dragging bits of +rubbish, larvae, and corpses, others back to the heap, or why they +jostle, overtake one another, and fight, and it would be equally +difficult to explain what caused the Russians after the departure of +the French to throng to the place that had formerly been Moscow. But +when we watch the ants round their ruined heap, the tenacity, energy, +and immense number of the delving insects prove that despite the +destruction of the heap, something indestructible, which though +intangible is the real strength of the colony, still exists; and +similarly, though in Moscow in the month of October there was no +government and no churches, shrines, riches, or houses--it was still +the Moscow it had been in August. All was destroyed, except something +intangible yet powerful and indestructible. + +The motives of those who thronged from all sides to Moscow after +it had been cleared of the enemy were most diverse and personal, and +at first for the most part savage and brutal. One motive only they all +had in common: a desire to get to the place that had been called +Moscow, to apply their activities there. + +Within a week Moscow already had fifteen thousand inhabitants, in +a fortnight twenty-five thousand, and so on. By the autumn of 1813 the +number, ever increasing and increasing, exceeded what it had been in +1812. + +The first Russians to enter Moscow were the Cossacks of +Wintzingerode's detachment, peasants from the adjacent villages, and +residents who had fled from Moscow and had been hiding in its +vicinity. The Russians who entered Moscow, finding it plundered, +plundered it in their turn. They continued what the French had +begun. Trains of peasant carts came to Moscow to carry off to the +villages what had been abandoned in the ruined houses and the streets. +The Cossacks carried off what they could to their camps, and the +householders seized all they could find in other houses and moved it +to their own, pretending that it was their property. + +But the first plunderers were followed by a second and a third +contingent, and with increasing numbers plundering became more and +more difficult and assumed more definite forms. + +The French found Moscow abandoned but with all the organizations of +regular life, with diverse branches of commerce and craftsmanship, +with luxury, and governmental and religious institutions. These forms +were lifeless but still existed. There were bazaars, shops, +warehouses, market stalls, granaries--for the most part still stocked +with goods--and there were factories and workshops, palaces and +wealthy houses filled with luxuries, hospitals, prisons, government +offices, churches, and cathedrals. The longer the French remained the +more these forms of town life perished, until finally all was merged +into one confused, lifeless scene of plunder. + +The more the plundering by the French continued, the more both the +wealth of Moscow and the strength of its plunderers was destroyed. But +plundering by the Russians, with which the reoccupation of the city +began, had an opposite effect: the longer it continued and the greater +the number of people taking part in it the more rapidly was the wealth +of the city and its regular life restored. + +Besides the plunderers, very various people, some drawn by +curiosity, some by official duties, some by self-interest--house +owners, clergy, officials of all kinds, tradesmen, artisans, and +peasants--streamed into Moscow as blood flows to the heart. + +Within a week the peasants who came with empty carts to carry off +plunder were stopped by the authorities and made to cart the corpses +out of the town. Other peasants, having heard of their comrades' +discomfiture, came to town bringing rye, oats, and hay, and beat +down one another's prices to below what they had been in former +days. Gangs of carpenters hoping for high pay arrived in Moscow +every day, and on all sides logs were being hewn, new houses built, +and old, charred ones repaired. Tradesmen began trading in booths. +Cookshops and taverns were opened in partially burned houses. The +clergy resumed the services in many churches that had not been burned. +Donors contributed Church property that had been stolen. Government +clerks set up their baize-covered tables and their pigeonholes of +documents in small rooms. The higher authorities and the police +organized the distribution of goods left behind by the French. The +owners of houses in which much property had been left, brought there +from other houses, complained of the injustice of taking everything to +the Faceted Palace in the Kremlin; others insisted that as the +French had gathered things from different houses into this or that +house, it would be unfair to allow its owner to keep all that was +found there. They abused the police and bribed them, made out +estimates at ten times their value for government stores that had +perished in the fire, and demanded relief. And Count Rostopchin +wrote proclamations. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +At the end of January Pierre went to Moscow and stayed in an annex +of his house which had not been burned. He called on Count +Rostopchin and on some acquaintances who were back in Moscow, and he +intended to leave for Petersburg two days later. Everybody was +celebrating the victory, everything was bubbling with life in the +ruined but reviving city. Everyone was pleased to see Pierre, everyone +wished to meet him, and everyone questioned him about what he had +seen. Pierre felt particularly well disposed toward them all, but +was now instinctively on his guard for fear of binding himself in +any way. To all questions put to him--whether important or quite +trifling--such as: Where would he live? Was he going to rebuild? +When was he going to Petersburg and would he mind taking a parcel +for someone?--he replied: "Yes, perhaps," or, "I think so," and so on. + +He had heard that the Rostovs were at Kostroma but the thought of +Natasha seldom occurred to him. If it did it was only as a pleasant +memory of the distant past. He felt himself not only free from +social obligations but also from that feeling which, it seemed to him, +he had aroused in himself. + +On the third day after his arrival he heard from the Drubetskoys +that Princess Mary was in Moscow. The death, sufferings, and last days +of Prince Andrew had often occupied Pierre's thoughts and now recurred +to him with fresh vividness. Having heard at dinner that Princess Mary +was in Moscow and living in her house--which had not been burned--in +Vozdvizhenka Street, he drove that same evening to see her. + +On his way to the house Pierre kept thinking of Prince Andrew, of +their friendship, of his various meetings with him, and especially +of the last one at Borodino. + +"Is it possible that he died in the bitter frame of mind he was then +in? Is it possible that the meaning of life was not disclosed to him +before he died?" thought Pierre. He recalled Karataev and his death +and involuntarily began to compare these two men, so different, and +yet so similar in that they had both lived and both died and in the +love he felt for both of them. + +Pierre drove up to the house of the old prince in a most serious +mood. The house had escaped the fire; it showed signs of damage but +its general aspect was unchanged. The old footman, who met Pierre with +a stern face as if wishing to make the visitor feel that the absence +of the old prince had not disturbed the order of things in the +house, informed him that the princess had gone to her own +apartments, and that she received on Sundays. + +"Announce me. Perhaps she will see me," said Pierre. + +"Yes, sir," said the man. "Please step into the portrait gallery." + +A few minutes later the footman returned with Dessalles, who brought +word from the princess that she would be very glad to see Pierre if he +would excuse her want of ceremony and come upstairs to her apartment. + +In a rather low room lit by one candle sat the princess and with her +another person dressed in black. Pierre remembered that the princess +always had lady companions, but who they were and what they were +like he never knew or remembered. "This must be one of her +companions," he thought, glancing at the lady in the black dress. + +The princess rose quickly to meet him and held out her hand. + +"Yes," she said, looking at his altered face after he had kissed her +hand, "so this is how we meet again. He spoke of you even at the +very last," she went on, turning her eyes from Pierre to her companion +with a shyness that surprised him for an instant. + +"I was so glad to hear of your safety. It was the first piece of +good news we had received for a long time." + +Again the princess glanced round at her companion with even more +uneasiness in her manner and was about to add something, but Pierre +interrupted her. + +"Just imagine--I knew nothing about him!" said he. "I thought he had +been killed. All I know I heard at second hand from others. I only +know that he fell in with the Rostovs.... What a strange coincidence!" + +Pierre spoke rapidly and with animation. He glanced once at the +companion's face, saw her attentive and kindly gaze fixed on him, and, +as often happens when one is talking, felt somehow that this companion +in the black dress was a good, kind, excellent creature who would +not hinder his conversing freely with Princess Mary. + +But when he mentioned the Rostovs, Princess Mary's face expressed +still greater embarrassment. She again glanced rapidly from Pierre's +face to that of the lady in the black dress and said: + +"Do you really not recognize her?" + +Pierre looked again at the companion's pale, delicate face with +its black eyes and peculiar mouth, and something near to him, long +forgotten and more than sweet, looked at him from those attentive +eyes. + +"But no, it can't be!" he thought. "This stern, thin, pale face that +looks so much older! It cannot be she. It merely reminds me of her." +But at that moment Princess Mary said, "Natasha!" And with difficulty, +effort, and stress, like the opening of a door grown rusty on its +hinges, a smile appeared on the face with the attentive eyes, and from +that opening door came a breath of fragrance which suffused Pierre +with a happiness he had long forgotten and of which he had not even +been thinking--especially at that moment. It suffused him, seized him, +and enveloped him completely. When she smiled doubt was no longer +possible, it was Natasha and he loved her. + +At that moment Pierre involuntarily betrayed to her, to Princess +Mary, and above all to himself, a secret of which he himself had +been unaware. He flushed joyfully yet with painful distress. He +tried to hide his agitation. But the more he tried to hide it the more +clearly--clearer than any words could have done--did he betray to +himself, to her, and to Princess Mary that he loved her. + +"No, it's only the unexpectedness of it," thought Pierre. But as +soon as he tried to continue the conversation he had begun with +Princess Mary he again glanced at Natasha, and a still-deeper flush +suffused his face and a still-stronger agitation of mingled joy and +fear seized his soul. He became confused in his speech and stopped +in the middle of what he was saying. + +Pierre had failed to notice Natasha because he did not at all expect +to see her there, but he had failed to recognize her because the +change in her since he last saw her was immense. She had grown thin +and pale, but that was not what made her unrecognizable; she was +unrecognizable at the moment he entered because on that face whose +eyes had always shone with a suppressed smile of the joy of life, +now when he first entered and glanced at her there was not the least +shadow of a smile: only her eyes were kindly attentive and sadly +interrogative. + +Pierre's confusion was not reflected by any confusion on Natasha's +part, but only by the pleasure that just perceptibly lit up her +whole face. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +"She has come to stay with me," said Princess Mary. "The count and +countess will be here in a few days. The countess is in a dreadful +state; but it was necessary for Natasha herself to see a doctor. +They insisted on her coming with me." + +"Yes, is there a family free from sorrow now?" said Pierre, +addressing Natasha. "You know it happened the very day we were +rescued. I saw him. What a delightful boy he was!" + +Natasha looked at him, and by way of answer to his words her eyes +widened and lit up. + +"What can one say or think of as a consolation?" said Pierre. +"Nothing! Why had such a splendid boy, so full of life, to die?" + +"Yes, in these days it would be hard to live without faith..." +remarked Princess Mary. + +"Yes, yes, that is really true," Pierre hastily interrupted her. + +"Why is it true?" Natasha asked, looking attentively into Pierre's +eyes. + +"How can you ask why?" said Princess Mary. "The thought alone of +what awaits..." + +Natasha without waiting for Princess Mary to finish again looked +inquiringly at Pierre. + +"And because," Pierre continued, "only one who believes that there +is a God ruling us can bear a loss such as hers and... yours." + +Natasha had already opened her mouth to speak but suddenly +stopped. Pierre hurriedly turned away from her and again addressed +Princess Mary, asking about his friend's last days. + +Pierre's confusion had now almost vanished, but at the same time +he felt that his freedom had also completely gone. He felt that +there was now a judge of his every word and action whose judgment +mattered more to him than that of all the rest of the world. As he +spoke now he was considering what impression his words would make on +Natasha. He did not purposely say things to please her, but whatever +he was saying he regarded from her standpoint. + +Princess Mary--reluctantly as is usual in such cases--began +telling of the condition in which she had found Prince Andrew. But +Pierre's face quivering with emotion, his questions and his eager +restless expression, gradually compelled her to go into details +which she feared to recall for her own sake. + +"Yes, yes, and so...?" Pierre kept saying as he leaned toward her +with his whole body and eagerly listened to her story. "Yes, yes... so +he grew tranquil and softened? With all his soul he had always +sought one thing--to be perfectly good--so he could not be afraid of +death. The faults he had--if he had any--were not of his making. So he +did soften?... What a happy thing that he saw you again," he added, +suddenly turning to Natasha and looking at her with eyes full of +tears. + +Natasha's face twitched. She frowned and lowered her eyes for a +moment. She hesitated for an instant whether to speak or not. + +"Yes, that was happiness," she then said in her quiet voice with its +deep chest notes. "For me it certainly was happiness." She paused. +"And he... he... he said he was wishing for it at the very moment I +entered the room...." + +Natasha's voice broke. She blushed, pressed her clasped hands on her +knees, and then controlling herself with an evident effort lifted +her head and began to speak rapidly. + +"We knew nothing of it when we started from Moscow. I did not dare +to ask about him. Then suddenly Sonya told me he was traveling with +us. I had no idea and could not imagine what state he was in, all I +wanted was to see him and be with him," she said, trembling, and +breathing quickly. + +And not letting them interrupt her she went on to tell what she +had never yet mentioned to anyone--all she had lived through during +those three weeks of their journey and life at Yaroslavl. + +Pierre listened to her with lips parted and eyes fixed upon her full +of tears. As he listened he did not think of Prince Andrew, nor of +death, nor of what she was telling. He listened to her and felt only +pity for her, for what she was suffering now while she was speaking. + +Princess Mary, frowning in her effort to hold back her tears, sat +beside Natasha, and heard for the first time the story of those last +days of her brother's and Natasha's love. + +Evidently Natasha needed to tell that painful yet joyful tale. + +She spoke, mingling most trifling details with the intimate +secrets of her soul, and it seemed as if she could never finish. +Several times she repeated the same thing twice. + +Dessalles' voice was heard outside the door asking whether little +Nicholas might come in to say good night. + +"Well, that's all--everything," said Natasha. + +She got up quickly just as Nicholas entered, almost ran to the +door which was hidden by curtains, struck her head against it, and +rushed from the room with a moan either of pain or sorrow. + +Pierre gazed at the door through which she had disappeared and did +not understand why he suddenly felt all alone in the world. + +Princess Mary roused him from his abstraction by drawing his +attention to her nephew who had entered the room. + +At that moment of emotional tenderness young Nicholas' face, which +resembled his father's, affected Pierre so much that when he had +kissed the boy he got up quickly, took out his handkerchief, and +went to the window. He wished to take leave of Princess Mary, but +she would not let him go. + +"No, Natasha and I sometimes don't go to sleep till after two, so +please don't go. I will order supper. Go downstairs, we will come +immediately." + +Before Pierre left the room Princess Mary told him: "This is the +first time she has talked of him like that." + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Pierre was shown into the large, brightly lit dining room; a few +minutes later he heard footsteps and Princess Mary entered with +Natasha. Natasha was calm, though a severe and grave expression had +again settled on her face. They all three of them now experienced that +feeling of awkwardness which usually follows after a serious and +heartfelt talk. It is impossible to go back to the same +conversation, to talk of trifles is awkward, and yet the desire to +speak is there and silence seems like affectation. They went +silently to table. The footmen drew back the chairs and pushed them up +again. Pierre unfolded his cold table napkin and, resolving to break +the silence, looked at Natasha and at Princess Mary. They had +evidently both formed the same resolution; the eyes of both shone with +satisfaction and a confession that besides sorrow life also has joy. + +"Do you take vodka, Count?" asked Princess Mary, and those words +suddenly banished the shadows of the past. "Now tell us about +yourself," said she. "One hears such improbable wonders about you." + +"Yes," replied Pierre with the smile of mild irony now habitual to +him. "They even tell me wonders I myself never dreamed of! Mary +Abramovna invited me to her house and kept telling me what had +happened, or ought to have happened, to me. Stepan Stepanych also +instructed me how I ought to tell of my experiences. In general I have +noticed that it is very easy to be an interesting man (I am an +interesting man now); people invite me out and tell me all about +myself." + +Natasha smiled and was on the point of speaking. + +"We have been told," Princess Mary interrupted her, "that you lost +two millions in Moscow. Is that true?" + +"But I am three times as rich as before," returned Pierre. + +Though the position was now altered by his decision to pay his +wife's debts and to rebuild his houses, Pierre still maintained that +he had become three times as rich as before. + +"What I have certainly gained is freedom," he began seriously, but +did not continue, noticing that this theme was too egotistic. + +"And are you building?" + +"Yes. Savelich says I must!" + +"Tell me, you did not know of the countess' death when you decided +to remain in Moscow?" asked Princess Mary and immediately blushed, +noticing that her question, following his mention of freedom, ascribed +to his words a meaning he had perhaps not intended. + +"No," answered Pierre, evidently not considering awkward the meaning +Princess Mary had given to his words. "I heard of it in Orel and you +cannot imagine how it shocked me. We were not an exemplary couple," he +added quickly, glancing at Natasha and noticing on her face +curiosity as to how he would speak of his wife, "but her death shocked +me terribly. When two people quarrel they are always both in fault, +and one's own guilt suddenly becomes terribly serious when the other +is no longer alive. And then such a death... without friends and +without consolation! I am very, very sorry for her," he concluded, and +was pleased to notice a look of glad approval on Natasha's face. + +"Yes, and so you are once more an eligible bachelor," said +Princess Mary. + +Pierre suddenly flushed crimson and for a long time tried not to +look at Natasha. When he ventured to glance her way again her face was +cold, stern, and he fancied even contemptuous. + +"And did you really see and speak to Napoleon, as we have been +told?" said Princess Mary. + +Pierre laughed. + +"No, not once! Everybody seems to imagine that being taken +prisoner means being Napoleon's guest. Not only did I never see him +but I heard nothing about him--I was in much lower company!" + +Supper was over, and Pierre who at first declined to speak about his +captivity was gradually led on to do so. + +"But it's true that you remained in Moscow to kill Napoleon?" +Natasha asked with a slight smile. "I guessed it then when we met at +the Sukharev tower, do you remember?" + +Pierre admitted that it was true, and from that was gradually led by +Princess Mary's questions and especially by Natasha's into giving a +detailed account of his adventures. + +At first he spoke with the amused and mild irony now customary +with him toward everybody and especially toward himself, but when he +came to describe the horrors and sufferings he had witnessed he was +unconsciously carried away and began speaking with the suppressed +emotion of a man re-experiencing in recollection strong impressions he +has lived through. + +Princess Mary with a gentle smile looked now at Pierre and now at +Natasha. In the whole narrative she saw only Pierre and his +goodness. Natasha, leaning on her elbow, the expression of her face +constantly changing with the narrative, watched Pierre with an +attention that never wandered--evidently herself experiencing all that +he described. Not only her look, but her exclamations and the brief +questions she put, showed Pierre that she understood just what he +wished to convey. It was clear that she understood not only what he +said but also what he wished to, but could not, express in words. +The account Pierre gave of the incident with the child and the woman +for protecting whom he was arrested was this: "It was an awful +sight--children abandoned, some in the flames... One was snatched +out before my eyes... and there were women who had their things +snatched off and their earrings torn out..." he flushed and grew +confused. "Then a patrol arrived and all the men--all those who were +not looting, that is--were arrested, and I among them." + +"I am sure you're not telling us everything; I am sure you did +something..." said Natasha and pausing added, "something fine?" + +Pierre continued. When he spoke of the execution he wanted to pass +over the horrible details, but Natasha insisted that he should not +omit anything. + +Pierre began to tell about Karataev, but paused. By this time he had +risen from the table and was pacing the room, Natasha following him +with her eyes. Then he added: + +"No, you can't understand what I learned from that illiterate +man--that simple fellow." + +"Yes, yes, go on!" said Natasha. "Where is he?" + +"They killed him almost before my eyes." + +And Pierre, his voice trembling continually, went on to tell of +the last days of their retreat, of Karataev's illness and his death. + +He told of his adventures as he had never yet recalled them. He now, +as it were, saw a new meaning in all he had gone through. Now that +he was telling it all to Natasha he experienced that pleasure which +a man has when women listen to him--not clever women who when +listening either try to remember what they hear to enrich their +minds and when opportunity offers to retell it, or who wish to adopt +it to some thought of their own and promptly contribute their own +clever comments prepared in their little mental workshop--but the +pleasure given by real women gifted with a capacity to select and +absorb the very best a man shows of himself. Natasha without knowing +it was all attention: she did not lose a word, no single quiver in +Pierre's voice, no look, no twitch of a muscle in his face, nor a +single gesture. She caught the unfinished word in its flight and +took it straight into her open heart, divining the secret meaning of +all Pierre's mental travail. + +Princess Mary understood his story and sympathized with him, but she +now saw something else that absorbed all her attention. She saw the +possibility of love and happiness between Natasha and Pierre, and +the first thought of this filled her heart with gladness. + +It was three o'clock in the morning. The footmen came in with sad +and stern faces to change the candles, but no one noticed them. + +Pierre finished his story. Natasha continued to look at him intently +with bright, attentive, and animated eyes, as if trying to +understand something more which he had perhaps left untold. Pierre +in shamefaced and happy confusion glanced occasionally at her, and +tried to think what to say next to introduce a fresh subject. Princess +Mary was silent. It occurred to none of them that it was three o'clock +and time to go to bed. + +"People speak of misfortunes and sufferings," remarked Pierre, +"but if at this moment I were asked: 'Would you rather be what you +were before you were taken prisoner, or go through all this again?' +then for heaven's sake let me again have captivity and horseflesh! +We imagine that when we are thrown out of our usual ruts all is +lost, but it is only then that what is new and good begins. While +there is life there is happiness. There is much, much before us. I say +this to you," he added, turning to Natasha. + +"Yes, yes," she said, answering something quite different. "I too +should wish nothing but to relive it all from the beginning." + +Pierre looked intently at her. + +"Yes, and nothing more," said Natasha. + +"It's not true, not true!" cried Pierre. "I am not to blame for +being alive and wishing to live--nor you either." + +Suddenly Natasha bent her head, covered her face with her hands, and +began to cry. + +"What is it, Natasha?" said Princess Mary. + +"Nothing, nothing." She smiled at Pierre through her tears. "Good +night! It is time for bed." + +Pierre rose and took his leave. + + +Princess Mary and Natasha met as usual in the bedroom. They talked +of what Pierre had told them. Princess Mary did not express her +opinion of Pierre nor did Natasha speak of him. + +"Well, good night, Mary!" said Natasha. "Do you know, I am often +afraid that by not speaking of him" (she meant Prince Andrew) "for +fear of not doing justice to our feelings, we forget him." + +Princess Mary sighed deeply and thereby acknowledged the justice +of Natasha's remark, but she did not express agreement in words. + +"Is it possible to forget?" said she. + +"It did me so much good to tell all about it today. It was hard +and painful, but good, very good!" said Natasha. "I am sure he +really loved him. That is why I told him... Was it all right?" she +added, suddenly blushing. + +"To tell Pierre? Oh, yes. What a splendid man he is!" said +Princess Mary. + +"Do you know, Mary..." Natasha suddenly said with a mischievous +smile such as Princess Mary had not seen on her face for a long +time, "he has somehow grown so clean, smooth, and fresh--as if he +had just come out of a Russian bath; do you understand? Out of a moral +bath. Isn't it true?" + +"Yes," replied Princess Mary. "He has greatly improved." + +"With a short coat and his hair cropped; just as if, well, just as +if he had come straight from the bath... Papa used to..." + +"I understand why he" (Prince Andrew) "liked no one so much as him," +said Princess Mary. + +"Yes, and yet he is quite different. They say men are friends when +they are quite different. That must be true. Really he is quite unlike +him--in everything." + +"Yes, but he's wonderful." + +"Well, good night," said Natasha. + +And the same mischievous smile lingered for a long time on her +face as if it had been forgotten there. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +It was a long time before Pierre could fall asleep that night. He +paced up and down his room, now turning his thoughts on a difficult +problem and frowning, now suddenly shrugging his shoulders and +wincing, and now smiling happily. + +He was thinking of Prince Andrew, of Natasha, and of their love, +at one moment jealous of her past, then reproaching himself for that +feeling. It was already six in the morning and he still paced up and +down the room. + +"Well, what's to be done if it cannot be avoided? What's to be done? +Evidently it has to be so," said he to himself, and hastily undressing +he got into bed, happy and agitated but free from hesitation or +indecision. + +"Strange and impossible as such happiness seems, I must do +everything that she and I may be man and wife," he told himself. + +A few days previously Pierre had decided to go to Petersburg on +the Friday. When he awoke on the Thursday, Savelich came to ask him +about packing for the journey. + +"What, to Petersburg? What is Petersburg? Who is there in +Petersburg?" he asked involuntarily, though only to himself. "Oh, yes, +long ago before this happened I did for some reason mean to go to +Petersburg," he reflected. "Why? But perhaps I shall go. What a good +fellow he is and how attentive, and how he remembers everything," he +thought, looking at Savelich's old face, "and what a pleasant smile he +has!" + +"Well, Savelich, do you still not wish to accept your freedom?" +Pierre asked him. + +"What's the good of freedom to me, your excellency? We lived under +the late count--the kingdom of heaven be his!--and we have lived under +you too, without ever being wronged." + +"And your children?" + +"The children will live just the same. With such masters one can +live." + +"But what about my heirs?" said Pierre. "Supposing I suddenly +marry... it might happen," he added with an involuntary smile. + +"If I may take the liberty, your excellency, it would be a good +thing." + +"How easy he thinks it," thought Pierre. "He doesn't know how +terrible it is and how dangerous. Too soon or too late... it is +terrible!" + +"So what are your orders? Are you starting tomorrow?" asked +Savelich. + +"No, I'll put it off for a bit. I'll tell you later. You must +forgive the trouble I have put you to," said Pierre, and seeing +Savelich smile, he thought: "But how strange it is that he should +not know that now there is no Petersburg for me, and that that must be +settled first of all! But probably he knows it well enough and is only +pretending. Shall I have a talk with him and see what he thinks?" +Pierre reflected. "No, another time." + +At breakfast Pierre told the princess, his cousin, that he had +been to see Princess Mary the day before and had there met--"Whom do +you think? Natasha Rostova!" + +The princess seemed to see nothing more extraordinary in that than +if he had seen Anna Semenovna. + +"Do you know her?" asked Pierre. + +"I have seen the princess," she replied. "I heard that they were +arranging a match for her with young Rostov. It would be a very good +thing for the Rostovs, they are said to be utterly ruined." + +"No; I mean do you know Natasha Rostova?" + +"I heard about that affair of hers at the time. It was a great +pity." + +"No, she either doesn't understand or is pretending," thought +Pierre. "Better not say anything to her either." + +The princess too had prepared provisions for Pierre's journey. + +"How kind they all are," thought Pierre. "What is surprising is that +they should trouble about these things now when it can no longer be of +interest to them. And all for me!" + +On the same day the Chief of Police came to Pierre, inviting him +to send a representative to the Faceted Palace to recover things +that were to be returned to their owners that day. + +"And this man too," thought Pierre, looking into the face of the +Chief of Police. "What a fine, good-looking officer and how kind. +Fancy bothering about such trifles now! And they actually say he is +not honest and takes bribes. What nonsense! Besides, why shouldn't +he take bribes? That's the way he was brought up, and everybody does +it. But what a kind, pleasant face and how he smiles as he looks at +me." + +Pierre went to Princess Mary's to dinner. + +As he drove through the streets past the houses that had been burned +down, he was surprised by the beauty of those ruins. The +picturesqueness of the chimney stacks and tumble-down walls of the +burned-out quarters of the town, stretching out and concealing one +another, reminded him of the Rhine and the Colosseum. The cabmen he +met and their passengers, the carpenters cutting the timber for new +houses with axes, the women hawkers, and the shopkeepers, all looked +at him with cheerful beaming eyes that seemed to say: "Ah, there he +is! Let's see what will come of it!" + +At the entrance to Princess Mary's house Pierre felt doubtful +whether he had really been there the night before and really seen +Natasha and talked to her. "Perhaps I imagined it; perhaps I shall +go in and find no one there." But he had hardly entered the room +before he felt her presence with his whole being by the loss of his +sense of freedom. She was in the same black dress with soft folds +and her hair was done the same way as the day before, yet she was +quite different. Had she been like this when he entered the day before +he could not for a moment have failed to recognize her. + +She was as he had known her almost as a child and later on as Prince +Andrew's fiancee. A bright questioning light shone in her eyes, and on +her face was a friendly and strangely roguish expression. + +Pierre dined with them and would have spent the whole evening there, +but Princess Mary was going to vespers and Pierre left the house +with her. + +Next day he came early, dined, and stayed the whole evening. +Though Princess Mary and Natasha were evidently glad to see their +visitor and though all Pierre's interest was now centered in that +house, by the evening they had talked over everything and the +conversation passed from one trivial topic to another and repeatedly +broke off. He stayed so long that Princess Mary and Natasha +exchanged glances, evidently wondering when he would go. Pierre +noticed this but could not go. He felt uneasy and embarrassed, but sat +on because he simply could not get up and take his leave. + +Princess Mary, foreseeing no end to this, rose first, and +complaining of a headache began to say good night. + +"So you are going to Petersburg tomorrow?" she asked. + +"No, I am not going," Pierre replied hastily, in a surprised tone +and as though offended. "Yes... no... to Petersburg? Tomorrow--but I +won't say good-by yet. I will call round in case you have any +commissions for me," said he, standing before Princess Mary and +turning red, but not taking his departure. + +Natasha gave him her hand and went out. Princess Mary on the other +hand instead of going away sank into an armchair, and looked sternly +and intently at him with her deep, radiant eyes. The weariness she had +plainly shown before had now quite passed off. With a deep and +long-drawn sigh she seemed to be prepared for a lengthy talk. + +When Natasha left the room Pierre's confusion and awkwardness +immediately vanished and were replaced by eager excitement. He quickly +moved an armchair toward Princess Mary. + +"Yes, I wanted to tell you," said he, answering her look as if she +had spoken. "Princess, help me! What am I to do? Can I hope? Princess, +my dear friend, listen! I know it all. I know I am not worthy of +her, I know it's impossible to speak of it now. But I want to be a +brother to her. No, not that, I don't, I can't..." + +He paused and rubbed his face and eyes with his hands. + +"Well," he went on with an evident effort at self-control and +coherence. "I don't know when I began to love her, but I have loved +her and her alone all my life, and I love her so that I cannot imagine +life without her. I cannot propose to her at present, but the +thought that perhaps she might someday be my wife and that I may be +missing that possibility... that possibility... is terrible. Tell +me, can I hope? Tell me what I am to do, dear princess!" he added +after a pause, and touched her hand as she did not reply. + +"I am thinking of what you have told me," answered Princess Mary. +"This is what I will say. You are right that to speak to her of love +at present..." + +Princess Mary stopped. She was going to say that to speak of love +was impossible, but she stopped because she had seen by the sudden +change in Natasha two days before that she would not only not be +hurt if Pierre spoke of his love, but that it was the very thing she +wished for. + +"To speak to her now wouldn't do," said the princess all the same. + +"But what am I to do?" + +"Leave it to me," said Princess Mary. "I know..." + +Pierre was looking into Princess Mary's eyes. + +"Well?... Well?..." he said. + +"I know that she loves... will love you," Princess Mary corrected +herself. + +Before her words were out, Pierre had sprung up and with a +frightened expression seized Princess Mary's hand. + +"What makes you think so? You think I may hope? You think...?" + +"Yes, I think so," said Princess Mary with a smile. "Write to her +parents, and leave it to me. I will tell her when I can. I wish it +to happen and my heart tells me it will." + +"No, it cannot be! How happy I am! But it can't be.... How happy I +am! No, it can't be!" Pierre kept saying as he kissed Princess +Mary's hands. + +"Go to Petersburg, that will be best. And I will write to you," +she said. + +"To Petersburg? Go there? Very well, I'll go. But I may come again +tomorrow?" + +Next day Pierre came to say good-by. Natasha was less animated +than she had been the day before; but that day as he looked at her +Pierre sometimes felt as if he was vanishing and that neither he nor +she existed any longer, that nothing existed but happiness. "Is it +possible? No, it can't be," he told himself at every look, gesture, +and word that filled his soul with joy. + +When on saying good-by he took her thin, slender hand, he could +not help holding it a little longer in his own. + +"Is it possible that this hand, that face, those eyes, all this +treasure of feminine charm so strange to me now, is it possible that +it will one day be mine forever, as familiar to me as I am to +myself?... No, that's impossible!..." + +"Good-by, Count," she said aloud. "I shall look forward very much to +your return," she added in a whisper. + +And these simple words, her look, and the expression on her face +which accompanied them, formed for two months the subject of +inexhaustible memories, interpretations, and happy meditations for +Pierre. "'I shall look forward very much to your return....' Yes, yes, +how did she say it? Yes, 'I shall look forward very much to your +return.' Oh, how happy I am! What is happening to me? How happy I am!" +said Pierre to himself. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +There was nothing in Pierre's soul now at all like what had troubled +it during his courtship of Helene. + +He did not repeat to himself with a sickening feeling of shame the +words he had spoken, or say: "Oh, why did I not say that?" and, +"Whatever made me say 'Je vous aime'?" On the contrary, he now +repeated in imagination every word that he or Natasha had spoken and +pictured every detail of her face and smile, and did not wish to +diminish or add anything, but only to repeat it again and again. There +was now not a shadow of doubt in his mind as to whether what he had +undertaken was right or wrong. Only one terrible doubt sometimes +crossed his mind: "Wasn't it all a dream? Isn't Princess Mary +mistaken? Am I not too conceited and self-confident? I believe all +this--and suddenly Princess Mary will tell her, and she will be sure +to smile and say: 'How strange! He must be deluding himself. Doesn't +he know that he is a man, just a man, while I...? I am something +altogether different and higher.'" + +That was the only doubt often troubling Pierre. He did not now +make any plans. The happiness before him appeared so inconceivable +that if only he could attain it, it would be the end of all things. +Everything ended with that. + +A joyful, unexpected frenzy, of which he had thought himself +incapable, possessed him. The whole meaning of life--not for him alone +but for the whole world--seemed to him centered in his love and the +possibility of being loved by her. At times everybody seemed to him to +be occupied with one thing only--his future happiness. Sometimes it +seemed to him that other people were all as pleased as he was +himself and merely tried to hide that pleasure by pretending to be +busy with other interests. In every word and gesture he saw +allusions to his happiness. He often surprised those he met by his +significantly happy looks and smiles which seemed to express a +secret understanding between him and them. And when he realized that +people might not be aware of his happiness, he pitied them with his +whole heart and felt a desire somehow to explain to them that all that +occupied them was a mere frivolous trifle unworthy of attention. + +When it was suggested to him that he should enter the civil service, +or when the war or any general political affairs were discussed on the +assumption that everybody's welfare depended on this or that issue +of events, he would listen with a mild and pitying smile and +surprise people by his strange comments. But at this time he saw +everybody--both those who, as he imagined, understood the real meaning +of life (that is, what he was feeling) and those unfortunates who +evidently did not understand it--in the bright light of the emotion +that shone within himself, and at once without any effort saw in +everyone he met everything that was good and worthy of being loved. + +When dealing with the affairs and papers of his dead wife, her +memory aroused in him no feeling but pity that she had not known the +bliss he now knew. Prince Vasili, who having obtained a new post and +some fresh decorations was particularly proud at this time, seemed +to him a pathetic, kindly old man much to be pitied. + +Often in afterlife Pierre recalled this period of blissful insanity. +All the views he formed of men and circumstances at this time remained +true for him always. He not only did not renounce them subsequently, +but when he was in doubt or inwardly at variance, he referred to the +views he had held at this time of his madness and they always proved +correct. + +"I may have appeared strange and queer then," he thought, "but I was +not so mad as I seemed. On the contrary I was then wiser and had +more insight than at any other time, and understood all that is +worth understanding in life, because... because I was happy." + +Pierre's insanity consisted in not waiting, as he used to do, to +discover personal attributes which he termed "good qualities" in +people before loving them; his heart was now overflowing with love, +and by loving people without cause he discovered indubitable causes +for loving them. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +After Pierre's departure that first evening, when Natasha had said +to Princess Mary with a gaily mocking smile: "He looks just, yes, just +as if he had come out of a Russian bath--in a short coat and with +his hair cropped," something hidden and unknown to herself, but +irrepressible, awoke in Natasha's soul. + +Everything: her face, walk, look, and voice, was suddenly altered. +To her own surprise a power of life and hope of happiness rose to +the surface and demanded satisfaction. From that evening she seemed to +have forgotten all that had happened to her. She no longer +complained of her position, did not say a word about the past, and +no longer feared to make happy plans for the future. She spoke +little of Pierre, but when Princess Mary mentioned him a +long-extinguished light once more kindled in her eyes and her lips +curved with a strange smile. + +The change that took place in Natasha at first surprised Princess +Mary; but when she understood its meaning it grieved her. "Can she +have loved my brother so little as to be able to forget him so +soon?" she thought when she reflected on the change. But when she +was with Natasha she was not vexed with her and did not reproach +her. The reawakened power of life that had seized Natasha was so +evidently irrepressible and unexpected by her that in her presence +Princess Mary felt that she had no right to reproach her even in her +heart. + + Natasha gave herself up so fully and frankly to this new feeling +that she did not try to hide the fact that she was no longer sad, +but bright and cheerful. + +When Princess Mary returned to her room after her nocturnal talk +with Pierre, Natasha met her on the threshold. + +"He has spoken? Yes? He has spoken?" she repeated. + +And a joyful yet pathetic expression which seemed to beg forgiveness +for her joy settled on Natasha's face. + +"I wanted to listen at the door, but I knew you would tell me." + +Understandable and touching as the look with which Natasha gazed +at her seemed to Princess Mary, and sorry as she was to see her +agitation, these words pained her for a moment. She remembered her +brother and his love. + +"But what's to be done? She can't help it," thought the princess. + +And with a sad and rather stern look she told Natasha all that +Pierre had said. On hearing that he was going to Petersburg Natasha +was astounded. + +"To Petersburg!" she repeated as if unable to understand. + +But noticing the grieved expression on Princess Mary's face she +guessed the reason of that sadness and suddenly began to cry. + +"Mary," said she, "tell me what I should do! I am afraid of being +bad. Whatever you tell me, I will do. Tell me...." + +"You love him?" + +"Yes," whispered Natasha. + +"Then why are you crying? I am happy for your sake," said Princess +Mary, who because of those tears quite forgave Natasha's joy. + +"It won't be just yet--someday. Think what fun it will be when I +am his wife and you marry Nicholas!" + +"Natasha, I have asked you not to speak of that. Let us talk about +you." + +They were silent awhile. + +"But why go to Petersburg?" Natasha suddenly asked, and hastily +replied to her own question. "But no, no, he must... Yes, Mary, He +must...." + + + + + +FIRST EPILOGUE: 1813 --20 + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Seven years had passed. The storm-tossed sea of European history had +subsided within its shores and seemed to have become calm. But the +mysterious forces that move humanity (mysterious because the laws of +their motion are unknown to us) continued to operate. + +Though the surface of the sea of history seemed motionless, the +movement of humanity went on as unceasingly as the flow of time. +Various groups of people formed and dissolved, the coming formation +and dissolution of kingdoms and displacement of peoples was in +course of preparation. + +The sea of history was not driven spasmodically from shore to +shore as previously. It was seething in its depths. Historic figures +were not borne by the waves from one shore to another as before. +They now seemed to rotate on one spot. The historical figures at the +head of armies, who formerly reflected the movement of the masses by +ordering wars, campaigns, and battles, now reflected the restless +movement by political and diplomatic combinations, laws, and treaties. + +The historians call this activity of the historical figures "the +reaction." + +In dealing with this period they sternly condemn the historical +personages who, in their opinion, caused what they describe as the +reaction. All the well-known people of that period, from Alexander and +Napoleon to Madame de Stael, Photius, Schelling, Fichte, +Chateaubriand, and the rest, pass before their stern judgment seat and +are acquitted or condemned according to whether they conduced to +progress or to reaction. + +According to their accounts a reaction took place at that time in +Russia also, and the chief culprit was Alexander I, the same man who +according to them was the chief cause of the liberal movement at the +commencement of his reign, being the savior of Russia. + +There is no one in Russian literature now, from schoolboy essayist +to learned historian, who does not throw his little stone at Alexander +for things he did wrong at this period of his reign. + +"He ought to have acted in this way and in that way. In this case he +did well and in that case badly. He behaved admirably at the beginning +of his reign and during 1812, but acted badly by giving a constitution +to Poland, forming the Holy Alliance, entrusting power to Arakcheev, +favoring Golitsyn and mysticism, and afterwards Shishkov and +Photius. He also acted badly by concerning himself with the active +army and disbanding the Semenov regiment." + +It would take a dozen pages to enumerate all the reproaches the +historians address to him, based on their knowledge of what is good +for humanity. + +What do these reproaches mean? + +Do not the very actions for which the historians praise Alexander +I (the liberal attempts at the beginning of his reign, his struggle +with Napoleon, the firmness he displayed in 1812 and the campaign of +1813) flow from the same sources--the circumstances of his birth, +education, and life--that made his personality what it was and from +which the actions for which they blame him (the Holy Alliance, the +restoration of Poland, and the reaction of 1820 and later) also +flowed? + +In what does the substance of those reproaches lie? + +It lies in the fact that an historic character like Alexander I, +standing on the highest possible pinnacle of human power with the +blinding light of history focused upon him; a character exposed to +those strongest of all influences: the intrigues, flattery, and +self-deception inseparable from power; a character who at every moment +of his life felt a responsibility for all that was happening in +Europe; and not a fictitious but a live character who like every man +had his personal habits, passions, and impulses toward goodness, +beauty, and truth--that this character--though not lacking in virtue +(the historians do not accuse him of that)--had not the same +conception of the welfare of humanity fifty years ago as a present-day +professor who from his youth upwards has been occupied with +learning: that is, with books and lectures and with taking notes +from them. + +But even if we assume that fifty years ago Alexander I was +mistaken in his view of what was good for the people, we must +inevitably assume that the historian who judges Alexander will also +after the lapse of some time turn out to be mistaken in his view of +what is good for humanity. This assumption is all the more natural and +inevitable because, watching the movement of history, we see that +every year and with each new writer, opinion as to what is good for +mankind changes; so that what once seemed good, ten years later +seems bad, and vice versa. And what is more, we find at one and the +same time quite contradictory views as to what is bad and what is good +in history: some people regard giving a constitution to Poland and +forming the Holy Alliance as praiseworthy in Alexander, while others +regard it as blameworthy. + +The activity of Alexander or of Napoleon cannot be called useful +or harmful, for it is impossible to say for what it was useful or +harmful. If that activity displeases somebody, this is only because it +does not agree with his limited understanding of what is good. Whether +the preservation of my father's house in Moscow, or the glory of the +Russian arms, or the prosperity of the Petersburg and other +universities, or the freedom of Poland or the greatness of Russia, +or the balance of power in Europe, or a certain kind of European +culture called "progress" appear to me to be good or bad, I must admit +that besides these things the action of every historic character has +other more general purposes inaccessible to me. + +But let us assume that what is called science can harmonize all +contradictions and possesses an unchanging standard of good and bad by +which to try historic characters and events; let us say that Alexander +could have done everything differently; let us say that with +guidance from those who blame him and who profess to know the ultimate +aim of the movement of humanity, he might have arranged matters +according to the program his present accusers would have given him--of +nationality, freedom, equality, and progress (these, I think, cover +the ground). Let us assume that this program was possible and had then +been formulated, and that Alexander had acted on it. What would then +have become of the activity of all those who opposed the tendency that +then prevailed in the government--an activity that in the opinion of +the historians was good and beneficent? Their activity would not +have existed: there would have been no life, there would have been +nothing. + +If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, the +possibility of life is destroyed. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +If we assume as the historians do that great men lead humanity to +the attainment of certain ends--the greatness of Russia or of +France, the balance of power in Europe, the diffusion of the ideas +of the Revolution, general progress, or anything else--then it is +impossible to explain the facts of history without introducing the +conceptions of chance and genius. + +If the aim of the European wars at the beginning of the nineteenth +century had been the aggrandizement of Russia, that aim might have +been accomplished without all the preceding wars and without the +invasion. If the aim was the aggrandizement of France, that might have +been attained without the Revolution and without the Empire. If the +aim was the dissemination of ideas, the printing press could have +accomplished that much better than warfare. If the aim was the +progress of civilization, it is easy to see that there are other +ways of diffusing civilization more expedient than by the +destruction of wealth and of human lives. + +Why did it happen in this and not in some other way? + +Because it happened so! "Chance created the situation; genius +utilized it," says history. + +But what is chance? What is genius? + +The words chance and genius do not denote any really existing +thing and therefore cannot be defined. Those words only denote a +certain stage of understanding of phenomena. I do not know why a +certain event occurs; I think that I cannot know it; so I do not try +to know it and I talk about chance. I see a force producing effects +beyond the scope of ordinary human agencies; I do not understand why +this occurs and I talk of genius. + +To a herd of rams, the ram the herdsman drives each evening into a +special enclosure to feed and that becomes twice as fat as the +others must seem to be a genius. And it must appear an astonishing +conjunction of genius with a whole series of extraordinary chances +that this ram, who instead of getting into the general fold every +evening goes into a special enclosure where there are oats--that +this very ram, swelling with fat, is killed for meat. + +But the rams need only cease to suppose that all that happens to +them happens solely for the attainment of their sheepish aims; they +need only admit that what happens to them may also have purposes +beyond their ken, and they will at once perceive a unity and coherence +in what happened to the ram that was fattened. Even if they do not +know for what purpose they are fattened, they will at least know +that all that happened to the ram did not happen accidentally, and +will no longer need the conceptions of chance or genius. + +Only by renouncing our claim to discern a purpose immediately +intelligible to us, and admitting the ultimate purpose to be beyond +our ken, may we discern the sequence of experiences in the lives of +historic characters and perceive the cause of the effect they +produce (incommensurable with ordinary human capabilities), and then +the words chance and genius become superfluous. + +We need only confess that we do not know the purpose of the European +convulsions and that we know only the facts--that is, the murders, +first in France, then in Italy, in Africa, in Prussia, in Austria, +in Spain, and in Russia--and that the movements from the west to the +east and from the east to the west form the essence and purpose of +these events, and not only shall we have no need to see exceptional +ability and genius in Napoleon and Alexander, but we shall be unable +to consider them to be anything but like other men, and we shall not +be obliged to have recourse to chance for an explanation of those +small events which made these people what they were, but it will be +clear that all those small events were inevitable. + +By discarding a claim to knowledge of the ultimate purpose, we shall +clearly perceive that just as one cannot imagine a blossom or seed for +any single plant better suited to it than those it produces, so it +is impossible to imagine any two people more completely adapted down +to the smallest detail for the purpose they had to fulfill, than +Napoleon and Alexander with all their antecedents. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The fundamental and essential significance of the European events of +the beginning of the nineteenth century lies in the movement of the +mass of the European peoples from west to east and afterwards from +east to west. The commencement of that movement was the movement +from west to east. For the peoples of the west to be able to make +their warlike movement to Moscow it was necessary: (1) that they +should form themselves into a military group of a size able to +endure a collision with the warlike military group of the east, (2) +that they should abandon all established traditions and customs, and +(3) that during their military movement they should have at their head +a man who could justify to himself and to them the deceptions, +robberies, and murders which would have to be committed during that +movement. + +And beginning with the French Revolution the old inadequately +large group was destroyed, as well as the old habits and traditions, +and step by step a group was formed of larger dimensions with new +customs and traditions, and a man was produced who would stand at +the head of the coming movement and bear the responsibility for all +that had to be done. + +A man without convictions, without habits, without traditions, +without a name, and not even a Frenchman, emerges--by what seem the +strangest chances--from among all the seething French parties, and +without joining any one of them is borne forward to a prominent +position. + +The ignorance of his colleagues, the weakness and insignificance +of his opponents, the frankness of his falsehoods, and the dazzling +and self-confident limitations of this man raise him to the head of +the army. The brilliant qualities of the soldiers of the army sent +to Italy, his opponents' reluctance to fight, and his own childish +audacity and self-confidence secure him military fame. Innumerable +so called chances accompany him everywhere. The disfavor into which he +falls with the rulers of France turns to his advantage. His attempts +to avoid his predestined path are unsuccessful: he is not received +into the Russian service, and the appointment he seeks in Turkey comes +to nothing. During the war in Italy he is several times on the verge +of destruction and each time is saved in an unexpected manner. Owing +to various diplomatic considerations the Russian armies--just those +which might have destroyed his prestige--do not appear upon the +scene till he is no longer there. + +On his return from Italy he finds the government in Paris in a process +of dissolution in which all those who are in it are inevitably wiped +out and destroyed. And by chance an escape from this dangerous +position presents itself in the form of an aimless and senseless +expedition to Africa. Again so-called chance accompanies him. +Impregnable Malta surrenders without a shot; his most reckless schemes +are crowned with success. The enemy's fleet, which subsequently did +not let a single boat pass, allows his entire army to elude it. In +Africa a whole series of outrages are committed against the almost +unarmed inhabitants. And the men who commit these crimes, especially +their leader, assure themselves that this is admirable, this is +glory--it resembles Caesar and Alexander the Great and is therefore +good. + +This ideal of glory and grandeur--which consists not merely in +considering nothing wrong that one does but in priding oneself on +every crime one commits, ascribing to it an incomprehensible +supernatural significance--that ideal, destined to guide this man +and his associates, had scope for its development in Africa. +Whatever he does succeeds. The plague does not touch him. The +cruelty of murdering prisoners is not imputed to him as a fault. His +childishly rash, uncalled-for, and ignoble departure from Africa, +leaving his comrades in distress, is set down to his credit, and again +the enemy's fleet twice lets him slip past. When, intoxicated by the +crimes he has committed so successfully, he reaches Paris, the +dissolution of the republican government, which a year earlier might +have ruined him, has reached its extreme limit, and his presence there +now as a newcomer free from party entanglements can only serve to +exalt him--and though he himself has no plan, he is quite ready for +his new role. + +He had no plan, he was afraid of everything, but the parties +snatched at him and demanded his participation. + +He alone--with his ideal of glory and grandeur developed in Italy +and Egypt, his insane self-adulation, his boldness in crime and +frankness in lying--he alone could justify what had to be done. + +He is needed for the place that awaits him, and so almost apart from +his will and despite his indecision, his lack of a plan, and all his +mistakes, he is drawn into a conspiracy that aims at seizing power and +the conspiracy is crowned with success. + +He is pushed into a meeting of the legislature. In alarm he wishes +to flee, considering himself lost. He pretends to fall into a swoon +and says senseless things that should have ruined him. But the once +proud and shrewd rulers of France, feeling that their part is played +out, are even more bewildered than he, and do not say the words they +should have said to destroy him and retain their power. + +Chance, millions of chances, give him power, and all men as if by +agreement co-operate to confirm that power. Chance forms the +characters of the rulers of France, who submit to him; chance forms +the character of Paul I of Russia who recognizes his government; +chance contrives a plot against him which not only fails to harm him +but confirms his power. Chance puts the Duc d'Enghien in his hands and +unexpectedly causes him to kill him--thereby convincing the mob more +forcibly than in any other way that he had the right, since he had the +might. Chance contrives that though he directs all his efforts to +prepare an expedition against England (which would inevitably have +ruined him) he never carries out that intention, but unexpectedly +falls upon Mack and the Austrians, who surrender without a battle. +Chance and genius give him the victory at Austerlitz; and by chance +all men, not only the French but all Europe--except England which does +not take part in the events about to happen--despite their former +horror and detestation of his crimes, now recognize his authority, the +title he has given himself, and his ideal of grandeur and glory, which +seems excellent and reasonable to them all. + +As if measuring themselves and preparing for the coming movement, +the western forces push toward the east several times in 1805, 1806, +1807, and 1809, gaining strength and growing. In 1811 the group of +people that had formed in France unites into one group with the +peoples of Central Europe. The strength of the justification of the +man who stands at the head of the movement grows with the increased +size of the group. During the ten-year preparatory period this man had +formed relations with all the crowned heads of Europe. The discredited +rulers of the world can oppose no reasonable ideal to the insensate +Napoleonic ideal of glory and grandeur. One after another they +hasten to display their insignificance before him. The King of Prussia +sends his wife to seek the great man's mercy; the Emperor of Austria +considers it a favor that this man receives a daughter of the Caesars +into his bed; the Pope, the guardian of all that the nations hold +sacred, utilizes religion for the aggrandizement of the great man. +It is not Napoleon who prepares himself for the accomplishment of +his role, so much as all those round him who prepare him to take on +himself the whole responsibility for what is happening and has to +happen. There is no step, no crime or petty fraud he commits, which in +the mouths of those around him is not at once represented as a great +deed. The most suitable fete the Germans can devise for him is a +celebration of Jena and Auerstadt. Not only is he great, but so are +his ancestors, his brothers, his stepsons, and his brothers-in-law. +Everything is done to deprive him of the remains of his reason and +to prepare him for his terrible part. And when he is ready so too +are the forces. + +The invasion pushes eastward and reaches its final goal--Moscow. +That city is taken; the Russian army suffers heavier losses than the +opposing armies had suffered in the former war from Austerlitz to +Wagram. But suddenly instead of those chances and that genius which +hitherto had so consistently led him by an uninterrupted series of +successes to the predestined goal, an innumerable sequence of +inverse chances occur--from the cold in his head at Borodino to the +sparks which set Moscow on fire, and the frosts--and instead of +genius, stupidity and immeasurable baseness become evident. + +The invaders flee, turn back, flee again, and all the chances are +now not for Napoleon but always against him. + +A countermovement is then accomplished from east to west with a +remarkable resemblance to the preceding movement from west to east. +Attempted drives from east to west--similar to the contrary +movements of 1805, 1807, and 1809--precede the great westward +movement; there is the same coalescence into a group of enormous +dimensions; the same adhesion of the people of Central Europe to the +movement; the same hesitation midway, and the same increasing rapidity +as the goal is approached. + +Paris, the ultimate goal, is reached. The Napoleonic government +and army are destroyed. Napoleon himself is no longer of any +account; all his actions are evidently pitiful and mean, but again +an inexplicable chance occurs. The allies detest Napoleon whom they +regard as the cause of their sufferings. Deprived of power and +authority, his crimes and his craft exposed, he should have appeared +to them what he appeared ten years previously and one year later--an +outlawed brigand. But by some strange chance no one perceives this. +His part is not yet ended. The man who ten years before and a year +later was considered an outlawed brigand is sent to an island two +days' sail from France, which for some reason is presented to him as +his dominion, and guards are given to him and millions of money are +paid him. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The flood of nations begins to subside into its normal channels. The +waves of the great movement abate, and on the calm surface eddies +are formed in which float the diplomatists, who imagine that they have +caused the floods to abate. + +But the smooth sea again suddenly becomes disturbed. The +diplomatists think that their disagreements are the cause of this +fresh pressure of natural forces; they anticipate war between their +sovereigns; the position seems to them insoluble. But the wave they +feel to be rising does not come from the quarter they expect. It rises +again from the same point as before--Paris. The last backwash of the +movement from the west occurs: a backwash which serves to solve the +apparently insuperable diplomatic difficulties and ends the military +movement of that period of history. + +The man who had devastated France returns to France alone, without +any conspiracy and without soldiers. Any guard might arrest him, but +by strange chance no one does so and all rapturously greet the man +they cursed the day before and will curse again a month later. + +This man is still needed to justify the final collective act. + +That act is performed. + +The last role is played. The actor is bidden to disrobe and wash off +his powder and paint: he will not be wanted any more. + +And some years pass during which he plays a pitiful comedy to +himself in solitude on his island, justifying his actions by intrigues +and lies when the justification is no longer needed, and displaying to +the whole world what it was that people had mistaken for strength as +long as an unseen hand directed his actions. + +The manager having brought the drama to a close and stripped the +actor shows him to us. + +"See what you believed in! This is he! Do you now see that it was +not he but I who moved you?" + +But dazed by the force of the movement, it was long before people +understood this. + +Still greater coherence and inevitability is seen in the life of +Alexander I, the man who stood at the head of the countermovement from +east to west. + +What was needed for him who, overshadowing others, stood at the head +of that movement from east to west? + +What was needed was a sense of justice and a sympathy with +European affairs, but a remote sympathy not dulled by petty interests; +a moral superiority over those sovereigns of the day who co-operated +with him; a mild and attractive personality; and a personal +grievance against Napoleon. And all this was found in Alexander I; all +this had been prepared by innumerable so-called chances in his life: +his education, his early liberalism, the advisers who surrounded +him, and by Austerlitz, and Tilsit, and Erfurt. + +During the national war he was inactive because he was not needed. +But as soon as the necessity for a general European war presented +itself he appeared in his place at the given moment and, uniting the +nations of Europe, led them to the goal. + +The goal is reached. After the final war of 1815 Alexander possesses +all possible power. How does he use it? + +Alexander I--the pacifier of Europe, the man who from his early +years had striven only for his people's welfare, the originator of the +liberal innovations in his fatherland--now that he seemed to possess +the utmost power and therefore to have the possibility of bringing +about the welfare of his peoples--at the time when Napoleon in exile +was drawing up childish and mendacious plans of how he would have made +mankind happy had he retained power--Alexander I, having fulfilled his +mission and feeling the hand of God upon him, suddenly recognizes +the insignificance of that supposed power, turns away from it, and +gives it into the hands of contemptible men whom he despises, saying +only: + +"Not unto us, not unto us, but unto Thy Name!... I too am a man like +the rest of you. Let me live like a man and think of my soul and of +God." + +As the sun and each atom of ether is a sphere complete in itself, +and yet at the same time only a part of a whole too immense for man to +comprehend, so each individual has within himself his own aims and yet +has them to serve a general purpose incomprehensible to man. + +A bee settling on a flower has stung a child. And the child is +afraid of bees and declares that bees exist to sting people. A poet +admires the bee sucking from the chalice of a flower and says it +exists to suck the fragrance of flowers. A beekeeper, seeing the bee +collect pollen from flowers and carry it to the hive, says that it +exists to gather honey. Another beekeeper who has studied the life +of the hive more closely says that the bee gathers pollen dust to feed +the young bees and rear a queen, and that it exists to perpetuate +its race. A botanist notices that the bee flying with the pollen of +a male flower to a pistil fertilizes the latter, and sees in this +the purpose of the bee's existence. Another, observing the migration +of plants, notices that the bee helps in this work, and may say that +in this lies the purpose of the bee. But the ultimate purpose of the +bee is not exhausted by the first, the second, or any of the processes +the human mind can discern. The higher the human intellect rises in +the discovery of these purposes, the more obvious it becomes, that the +ultimate purpose is beyond our comprehension. + +All that is accessible to man is the relation of the life of the bee +to other manifestations of life. And so it is with the purpose of +historic characters and nations. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Natasha's wedding to Bezukhov, which took place in 1813, was the +last happy event in the family of the old Rostovs. Count Ilya Rostov +died that same year and, as always happens, after the father's death +the family group broke up. + +The events of the previous year: the burning of Moscow and the +flight from it, the death of Prince Andrew, Natasha's despair, Petya's +death, and the old countess' grief fell blow after blow on the old +count's head. He seemed to be unable to understand the meaning of +all these events, and bowed his old head in a spiritual sense as if +expecting and inviting further blows which would finish him. He seemed +now frightened and distraught and now unnaturally animated and +enterprising. + +The arrangements for Natasha's marriage occupied him for a while. He +ordered dinners and suppers and obviously tried to appear cheerful, +but his cheerfulness was not infectious as it used to be: on the +contrary it evoked the compassion of those who knew and liked him. + +When Pierre and his wife had left, he grew very quiet and began to +complain of depression. A few days later he fell ill and took to his +bed. He realized from the first that he would not get up again, +despite the doctor's encouragement. The countess passed a fortnight in +an armchair by his pillow without undressing. Every time she gave +him his medicine he sobbed and silently kissed her hand. On his last +day, sobbing, he asked her and his absent son to forgive him for +having dissipated their property--that being the chief fault of +which he was conscious. After receiving communion and unction he +quietly died; and next day a throng of acquaintances who came to pay +their last respects to the deceased filled the house rented by the +Rostovs. All these acquaintances, who had so often dined and danced at +his house and had so often laughed at him, now said, with a common +feeling of self-reproach and emotion, as if justifying themselves: +"Well, whatever he may have been he was a most worthy man. You don't +meet such men nowadays.... And which of us has not weaknesses of his +own?" + +It was just when the count's affairs had become so involved that +it was impossible to say what would happen if he lived another year +that he unexpectedly died. + +Nicholas was with the Russian army in Paris when the news of his +father's death reached him. He at once resigned his commission, and +without waiting for it to be accepted took leave of absence and went +to Moscow. The state of the count's affairs became quite obvious a +month after his death, surprising everyone by the immense total of +small debts the existence of which no one had suspected. The debts +amounted to double the value of the property. + +Friends and relations advised Nicholas to decline the inheritance. +But he regarded such a refusal as a slur on his father's memory, which +he held sacred, and therefore would not hear of refusing and +accepted the inheritance together with the obligation to pay the +debts. + +The creditors who had so long been silent, restrained by a vague but +powerful influence exerted on them while he lived by the count's +careless good nature, all proceeded to enforce their claims at once. +As always happens in such cases rivalry sprang up as to which should +get paid first, and those who like Mitenka held promissory notes given +them as presents now became the most exacting of the creditors. +Nicholas was allowed no respite and no peace, and those who had seemed +to pity the old man--the cause of their losses (if they were +losses)--now remorselessly pursued the young heir who had +voluntarily undertaken the debts and was obviously not guilty of +contracting them. + +Not one of the plans Nicholas tried succeeded; the estate was sold +by auction for half its value, and half the debts still remained +unpaid. Nicholas accepted thirty thousand rubles offered him by his +brother-in-law Bezukhov to pay off debts he regarded as genuinely +due for value received. And to avoid being imprisoned for the +remainder, as the creditors threatened, he re-entered the government +service. + +He could not rejoin the army where he would have been made colonel +at the next vacancy, for his mother now clung to him as her one hold +on life; and so despite his reluctance to remain in Moscow among people +who had known him before, and despite his abhorrence of the civil +service, he accepted a post in Moscow in that service, doffed the +uniform of which he was so fond, and moved with his mother and Sonya +to a small house on the Sivtsev Vrazhek. + +Natasha and Pierre were living in Petersburg at the time and had +no clear idea of Nicholas' circumstances. Having borrowed money from +his brother-in-law, Nicholas tried to hide his wretched condition from +him. His position was the more difficult because with his salary of +twelve hundred rubles he had not only to keep himself, his mother, and +Sonya, but had to shield his mother from knowledge of their poverty. +The countess could not conceive of life without the luxurious +conditions she had been used to from childhood and, unable to +realize how hard it was for her son, kept demanding now a carriage +(which they did not keep) to send for a friend, now some expensive +article of food for herself, or wine for her son, or money to buy a +present as a surprise for Natasha or Sonya, or for Nicholas himself. + +Sonya kept house, attended on her aunt, read to her, put up with her +whims and secret ill-will, and helped Nicholas to conceal their +poverty from the old countess. Nicholas felt himself irredeemably +indebted to Sonya for all she was doing for his mother and greatly +admired her patience and devotion, but tried to keep aloof from her. + +He seemed in his heart to reproach her for being too perfect, and +because there was nothing to reproach her with. She had all that +people are valued for, but little that could have made him love her. +He felt that the more he valued her the less he loved her. He had +taken her at her word when she wrote giving him his freedom and now +behaved as if all that had passed between them had been long forgotten +and could never in any case be renewed. + +Nicholas' position became worse and worse. The idea of putting +something aside out of his salary proved a dream. Not only did he +not save anything, but to comply with his mother's demands he even +incurred some small debts. He could see no way out of this +situation. The idea of marrying some rich woman, which was suggested +to him by his female relations, was repugnant to him. The other way +out--his mother's death--never entered his head. He wished for nothing +and hoped for nothing, and deep in his heart experienced a gloomy +and stern satisfaction in an uncomplaining endurance of his +position. He tried to avoid his old acquaintances with their +commiseration and offensive offers of assistance; he avoided all +distraction and recreation, and even at home did nothing but play +cards with his mother, pace silently up and down the room, and smoke +one pipe after another. He seemed carefully to cherish within +himself the gloomy mood which alone enabled him to endure his +position. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +At the beginning of winter Princess Mary came to Moscow. From +reports current in town she learned how the Rostovs were situated, and +how "the son has sacrificed himself for his mother," as people were +saying. + +"I never expected anything else of him," said Princess Mary to +herself, feeling a joyous sense of her love for him. Remembering her +friendly relations with all the Rostovs which had made her almost a +member of the family, she thought it her duty to go to see them. But +remembering her relations with Nicholas in Voronezh she was shy +about doing so. Making a great effort she did however go to call on +them a few weeks after her arrival in Moscow. + +Nicholas was the first to meet her, as the countess' room could only +be reached through his. But instead of being greeted with pleasure +as she had expected, at his first glance at her his face assumed a +cold, stiff, proud expression she had not seen on it before. He +inquired about her health, led the way to his mother, and having sat +there for five minutes left the room. + +When the princess came out of the countess' room Nicholas met her +again, and with marked solemnity and stiffness accompanied her to +the anteroom. To her remarks about his mother's health he made no +reply. "What's that to you? Leave me in peace," his looks seemed to +say. + +"Why does she come prowling here? What does she want? I can't bear +these ladies and all these civilities!" said he aloud in Sonya's +presence, evidently unable to repress his vexation, after the +princess' carriage had disappeared. + +"Oh, Nicholas, how can you talk like that?" cried Sonya, hardly able +to conceal her delight. "She is so kind and Mamma is so fond of her!" + +Nicholas did not reply and tried to avoid speaking of the princess +any more. But after her visit the old countess spoke of her several +times a day. + +She sang her praises, insisted that her son must call on her, +expressed a wish to see her often, but yet always became ill-humored +when she began to talk about her. + +Nicholas tried to keep silence when his mother spoke of the +princess, but his silence irritated her. + +"She is a very admirable and excellent young woman," said she, +"and you must go and call on her. You would at least be seeing +somebody, and I think it must be dull for you only seeing us." + +"But I don't in the least want to, Mamma." + +"You used to want to, and now you don't. Really I don't understand +you, my dear. One day you are dull, and the next you refuse to see +anyone." + +"But I never said I was dull." + +"Why, you said yourself you don't want even to see her. She is a +very admirable young woman and you always liked her, but now +suddenly you have got some notion or other in your head. You hide +everything from me." + +"Not at all, Mamma." + +"If I were asking you to do something disagreeable now--but I only +ask you to return a call. One would think mere politeness required +it.... Well, I have asked you, and now I won't interfere any more +since you have secrets from your mother." + +"Well, then, I'll go if you wish it." + +"It doesn't matter to me. I only wish it for your sake." + +Nicholas sighed, bit his mustache, and laid out the cards for a +patience, trying to divert his mother's attention to another topic. + +The same conversation was repeated next day and the day after, and +the day after that. + +After her visit to the Rostovs and her unexpectedly chilly reception +by Nicholas, Princess Mary confessed to herself that she had been +right in not wishing to be the first to call. + +"I expected nothing else," she told herself, calling her pride to +her aid. "I have nothing to do with him and I only wanted to see the +old lady, who was always kind to me and to whom I am under many +obligations." + +But she could not pacify herself with these reflections; a feeling +akin to remorse troubled her when she thought of her visit. Though she +had firmly resolved not to call on the Rostovs again and to forget the +whole matter, she felt herself all the time in an awkward position. +And when she asked herself what distressed her, she had to admit +that it was her relation to Rostov. His cold, polite manner did not +express his feeling for her (she knew that) but it concealed +something, and until she could discover what that something was, she +felt that she could not be at ease. + +One day in midwinter when sitting in the schoolroom attending to her +nephew's lessons, she was informed that Rostov had called. With a firm +resolution not to betray herself and not show her agitation, she +sent for Mademoiselle Bourienne and went with her to the drawing room. + +Her first glance at Nicholas' face told her that he had only come to +fulfill the demands of politeness, and she firmly resolved to maintain +the tone in which he addressed her. + +They spoke of the countess' health, of their mutual friends, of +the latest war news, and when the ten minutes required by propriety +had elapsed after which a visitor may rise, Nicholas got up to say +good-by. + +With Mademoiselle Bourienne's help the princess had maintained the +conversation very well, but at the very last moment, just when he +rose, she was so tired of talking of what did not interest her, and +her mind was so full of the question why she alone was granted so +little happiness in life, that in a fit of absent-mindedness she sat +still, her luminous eyes gazing fixedly before her, not noticing +that he had risen. + +Nicholas glanced at her and, wishing to appear not to notice her +abstraction, made some remark to Mademoiselle Bourienne and then again +looked at the princess. She still sat motionless with a look of +suffering on her gentle face. He suddenly felt sorry for her and was +vaguely conscious that he might be the cause of the sadness her face +expressed. He wished to help her and say something pleasant, but could +think of nothing to say. + +"Good-by, Princess!" said he. + +She started, flushed, and sighed deeply. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said as if waking up. "Are you going +already, Count? Well then, good-by! Oh, but the cushion for the +countess!" + +"Wait a moment, I'll fetch it," said Mademoiselle Bourienne, and she +left the room. + +They both sat silent, with an occasional glance at one another. + +"Yes, Princess," said Nicholas at last with a sad smile, "it doesn't +seem long ago since we first met at Bogucharovo, but how much water +has flowed since then! In what distress we all seemed to be then, +yet I would give much to bring back that time... but there's no +bringing it back." + +Princess Mary gazed intently into his eyes with her own luminous +ones as he said this. She seemed to be trying to fathom the hidden +meaning of his words which would explain his feeling for her. + +"Yes, yes," said she, "but you have no reason to regret the past, +Count. As I understand your present life, I think you will always +recall it with satisfaction, because the self-sacrifice that fills +it now..." + +"I cannot accept your praise," he interrupted her hurriedly. "On the +contrary I continually reproach myself.... But this is not at all an +interesting or cheerful subject." + +His face again resumed its former stiff and cold expression. But the +princess had caught a glimpse of the man she had known and loved, +and it was to him that she now spoke. + +"I thought you would allow me to tell you this," she said. "I had +come so near to you... and to all your family that I thought you would +not consider my sympathy misplaced, but I was mistaken," and +suddenly her voice trembled. "I don't know why," she continued, +recovering herself, "but you used to be different, and..." + +"There are a thousand reasons why," laying special emphasis on the +why. "Thank you, Princess," he added softly. "Sometimes it is hard." + +"So that's why! That's why!" a voice whispered in Princess Mary's +soul. "No, it was not only that gay, kind, and frank look, not only +that handsome exterior, that I loved in him. I divined his noble, +resolute, self-sacrificing spirit too," she said to herself. "Yes, +he is poor now and I am rich.... Yes, that's the only reason.... +Yes, were it not for that..." And remembering his former tenderness, +and looking now at his kind, sorrowful face, she suddenly understood +the cause of his coldness. + +"But why, Count, why?" she almost cried, unconsciously moving closer +to him. "Why? Tell me. You must tell me!" + +He was silent. + +"I don't understand your why, Count," she continued, "but it's +hard for me... I confess it. For some reason you wish to deprive me of +our former friendship. And that hurts me." There were tears in her +eyes and in her voice. "I have had so little happiness in life that +every loss is hard for me to bear.... Excuse me, good-by!" and +suddenly she began to cry and was hurrying from the room. + +"Princess, for God's sake!" he exclaimed, trying to stop her. +"Princess!" + +She turned round. For a few seconds they gazed silently into one +another's eyes--and what had seemed impossible and remote suddenly +became possible, inevitable, and very near. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +In the winter of 1813 Nicholas married Princess Mary and moved to +Bald Hills with his wife, his mother, and Sonya. + +Within four years he had paid off all his remaining debts without +selling any of his wife's property, and having received a small +inheritance on the death of a cousin he paid his debt to Pierre as +well. + +In another three years, by 1820, he had so managed his affairs +that he was able to buy a small estate adjoining Bald Hills and was +negotiating to buy back Otradnoe--that being his pet dream. + +Having started farming from necessity, he soon grew so devoted to it +that it became his favorite and almost his sole occupation. Nicholas +was a plain farmer: he did not like innovations, especially the +English ones then coming into vogue. He laughed at theoretical +treatises on estate management, disliked factories, the raising of +expensive products, and the buying of expensive seed corn, and did not +make a hobby of any particular part of the work on his estate. He +always had before his mind's eye the estate as a whole and not any +particular part of it. The chief thing in his eyes was not the +nitrogen in the soil, nor the oxygen in the air, nor manures, nor +special plows, but that most important agent by which nitrogen, +oxygen, manure, and plow were made effective--the peasant laborer. +When Nicholas first began farming and began to understand its +different branches, it was the serf who especially attracted his +attention. The peasant seemed to him not merely a tool, but also a +judge of farming and an end in himself. At first he watched the serfs, +trying to understand their aims and what they considered good and bad, +and only pretended to direct them and give orders while in reality +learning from them their methods, their manner of speech, and their +judgment of what was good and bad. Only when he had understood the +peasants' tastes and aspirations, had learned to talk their +language, to grasp the hidden meaning of their words, and felt akin to +them did he begin boldly to manage his serfs, that is, to perform +toward them the duties demanded of him. And Nicholas' management +produced very brilliant results. + +Guided by some gift of insight, on taking up the management of the +estates he at once unerringly appointed as bailiff, village elder, and +delegate, the very men the serfs would themselves have chosen had they +had the right to choose, and these posts never changed hands. Before +analyzing the properties of manure, before entering into the debit and +credit (as he ironically called it), he found out how many cattle +the peasants had and increased the number by all possible means. He +kept the peasant families together in the largest groups possible, not +allowing the family groups to divide into separate households. He +was hard alike on the lazy, the depraved, and the weak, and tried to +get them expelled from the commune. + +He was as careful of the sowing and reaping of the peasants' hay and +corn as of his own, and few landowners had their crops sown and +harvested so early and so well, or got so good a return, as did +Nicholas. + +He disliked having anything to do with the domestic serfs--the +"drones" as he called them--and everyone said he spoiled them by his +laxity. When a decision had to be taken regarding a domestic serf, +especially if one had to be punished, he always felt undecided and +consulted everybody in the house; but when it was possible to have a +domestic serf conscripted instead of a land worker he did so without +the least hesitation. He never felt any hesitation in dealing with the +peasants. He knew that his every decision would be approved by them +all with very few exceptions. + +He did not allow himself either to be hard on or punish a man, or to +make things easy for or reward anyone, merely because he felt inclined +to do so. He could not have said by what standard he judged what he +should or should not do, but the standard was quite firm and +definite in his own mind. + +Often, speaking with vexation of some failure or irregularity, he +would say: "What can one do with our Russian peasants?" and imagined +that he could not bear them. + +Yet he loved "our Russian peasants" and their way of life with his +whole soul, and for that very reason had understood and assimilated +the one way and manner of farming which produced good results. + +Countess Mary was jealous of this passion of her husband's and +regretted that she could not share it; but she could not understand +the joys and vexations he derived from that world, to her so remote +and alien. She could not understand why he was so particularly +animated and happy when, after getting up at daybreak and spending the +whole morning in the fields or on the threshing floor, he returned +from the sowing or mowing or reaping to have tea with her. She did not +understand why he spoke with such admiration and delight of the +farming of the thrifty and well-to-do peasant Matthew Ermishin, who +with his family had carted corn all night; or of the fact that his +(Nicholas') sheaves were already stacked before anyone else had his +harvest in. She did not understand why he stepped out from the +window to the veranda and smiled under his mustache and winked so +joyfully, when warm steady rain began to fall on the dry and thirsty +shoots of the young oats, or why when the wind carried away a +threatening cloud during the hay harvest he would return from the +barn, flushed, sunburned, and perspiring, with a smell of wormwood and +gentian in his hair and, gleefully rubbing his hands, would say: +"Well, one more day and my grain and the peasants' will all be under +cover." + +Still less did she understand why he, kindhearted and always ready +to anticipate her wishes, should become almost desperate when she +brought him a petition from some peasant men or women who had appealed +to her to be excused some work; why he, that kind Nicholas, should +obstinately refuse her, angrily asking her not to interfere in what +was not her business. She felt he had a world apart, which he loved +passionately and which had laws she had not fathomed. + +Sometimes when, trying to understand him, she spoke of the good work +he was doing for his serfs, he would be vexed and reply: "Not in the +least; it never entered my head and I wouldn't do that for their good! +That's all poetry and old wives' talk--all that doing good to one's +neighbor! What I want is that our children should not have to go +begging. I must put our affairs in order while I am alive, that's all. +And to do that, order and strictness are essential.... That's all +about it!" said he, clenching his vigorous fist. "And fairness, of +course," he added, "for if the peasant is naked and hungry and has +only one miserable horse, he can do no good either for himself or +for me." + +And all Nicholas did was fruitful--probably just because he +refused to allow himself to think that he was doing good to others for +virtue's sake. His means increased rapidly; serfs from neighboring +estates came to beg him to buy them, and long after his death the +memory of his administration was devoutly preserved among the serfs. +"He was a master... the peasants' affairs first and then his own. Of +course he was not to be trifled with either--in a word, he was a +real master!" + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +One matter connected with his management sometimes worried Nicholas, +and that was his quick temper together with his old hussar habit of +making free use of his fists. At first he saw nothing reprehensible in +this, but in the second year of his marriage his view of that form +of punishment suddenly changed. + +Once in summer he had sent for the village elder from Bogucharovo, a +man who had succeeded to the post when Dron died and who was accused +of dishonesty and various irregularities. Nicholas went out into the +porch to question him, and immediately after the elder had given a few +replies the sound of cries and blows were heard. On returning to lunch +Nicholas went up to his wife, who sat with her head bent low over +her embroidery frame, and as usual began to tell her what he had +been doing that morning. Among other things he spoke of the +Bogucharovo elder. Countess Mary turned red and then pale, but +continued to sit with head bowed and lips compressed and gave her +husband no reply. + +"Such an insolent scoundrel!" he cried, growing hot again at the +mere recollection of him. "If he had told me he was drunk and did +not see... But what is the matter with you, Mary?" he suddenly asked. + +Countess Mary raised her head and tried to speak, but hastily looked +down again and her lips puckered. + +"Why, whatever is the matter, my dearest?" + +The looks of the plain Countess Mary always improved when she was in +tears. She never cried from pain or vexation, but always from sorrow +or pity, and when she wept her radiant eyes acquired an irresistible +charm. + +The moment Nicholas took her hand she could no longer restrain +herself and began to cry. + +"Nicholas, I saw it... he was to blame, but why do you... Nicholas!" +and she covered her face with her hands. + +Nicholas said nothing. He flushed crimson, left her side, and +paced up and down the room. He understood what she was weeping +about, but could not in his heart at once agree with her that what +he had regarded from childhood as quite an everyday event was wrong. +"Is it just sentimentality, old wives' tales, or is she right?" he +asked himself. Before he had solved that point he glanced again at her +face filled with love and pain, and he suddenly realized that she +was right and that he had long been sinning against himself. + +"Mary," he said softly, going up to her, "it will never happen +again; I give you my word. Never," he repeated in a trembling voice +like a boy asking for forgiveness. + +The tears flowed faster still from the countess' eyes. She took +his hand and kissed it. + +"Nicholas, when did you break your cameo?" she asked to change the +subject, looking at his finger on which he wore a ring with a cameo +of Laocoon's head. + +"Today--it was the same affair. Oh, Mary, don't remind me of it!" +and again he flushed. "I give you my word of honor it shan't occur +again, and let this always be a reminder to me," and he pointed to the +broken ring. + +After that, when in discussions with his village elders or +stewards the blood rushed to his face and his fists began to clench, +Nicholas would turn the broken ring on his finger and would drop his +eyes before the man who was making him angry. But he did forget +himself once or twice within a twelvemonth, and then he would go and +confess to his wife, and would again promise that this should really +be the very last time. + +"Mary, you must despise me!" he would say. "I deserve it." + +"You should go, go away at once, if you don't feel strong enough +to control yourself," she would reply sadly, trying to comfort her +husband. + +Among the gentry of the province Nicholas was respected but not +liked. He did not concern himself with the interests of his own class, +and consequently some thought him proud and others thought him stupid. +The whole summer, from spring sowing to harvest, he was busy with +the work on his farm. In autumn he gave himself up to hunting with the +same business like seriousness--leaving home for a month, or even two, +with his hunt. In winter he visited his other villages or spent his +time reading. The books he read were chiefly historical, and on +these he spent a certain sum every year. He was collecting, as he +said, a serious library, and he made it a rule to read through all the +books he bought. He would sit in his study with a grave air, +reading--a task he first imposed upon himself as a duty, but which +afterwards became a habit affording him a special kind of pleasure and +a consciousness of being occupied with serious matters. In winter, +except for business excursions, he spent most of his time at home +making himself one with his family and entering into all the details +of his children's relations with their mother. The harmony between him +and his wife grew closer and closer and he daily discovered fresh +spiritual treasures in her. + +From the time of his marriage Sonya had lived in his house. Before +that, Nicholas had told his wife all that had passed between himself +and Sonya, blaming himself and commending her. He had asked Princess +Mary to be gentle and kind to his cousin. She thoroughly realized +the wrong he had done Sonya, felt herself to blame toward her, and +imagined that her wealth had influenced Nicholas' choice. She could +not find fault with Sonya in any way and tried to be fond of her, +but often felt ill-will toward her which she could not overcome. + +Once she had a talk with her friend Natasha about Sonya and about +her own injustice toward her. + +"You know," said Natasha, "you have read the Gospels a great +deal--there is a passage in them that just fits Sonya." + +"What?" asked Countess Mary, surprised. + +"'To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not +shall be taken away.' You remember? She is one that hath not; why, I +don't know. Perhaps she lacks egotism, I don't know, but from her is +taken away, and everything has been taken away. Sometimes I am +dreadfully sorry for her. Formerly I very much wanted Nicholas to +marry her, but I always had a sort of presentiment that it would not +come off. She is a sterile flower, you know--like some strawberry +blossoms. Sometimes I am sorry for her, and sometimes I think she +doesn't feel it as you or I would." + +Though Countess Mary told Natasha that those words in the Gospel +must be understood differently, yet looking at Sonya she agreed with +Natasha's explanation. It really seemed that Sonya did not feel her +position trying, and had grown quite reconciled to her lot as a +sterile flower. She seemed to be fond not so much of individuals as of +the family as a whole. Like a cat, she had attached herself not to the +people but to the home. She waited on the old countess, petted and +spoiled the children, was always ready to render the small services +for which she had a gift, and all this was unconsciously accepted from +her with insufficient gratitude. + +The country seat at Bald Hills had been rebuilt, though not on the +same scale as under the old prince. + +The buildings, begun under straitened circumstances, were more +than simple. The immense house on the old stone foundations was of +wood, plastered only inside. It had bare deal floors and was furnished +with very simple hard sofas, armchairs, tables, and chairs made by +their own serf carpenters out of their own birchwood. The house was +spacious and had rooms for the house serfs and apartments for +visitors. Whole families of the Rostovs' and Bolkonskis' relations +sometimes came to Bald Hills with sixteen horses and dozens of +servants and stayed for months. Besides that, four times a year, on +the name days and birthdays of the hosts, as many as a hundred +visitors would gather there for a day or two. The rest of the year +life pursued its unbroken routine with its ordinary occupations, and +its breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and suppers, provided out of the +produce of the estate. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +It was the eve of St. Nicholas, the fifth of December, 1820. Natasha +had been staying at her brother's with her husband and children +since early autumn. Pierre had gone to Petersburg on business of his +own for three weeks as he said, but had remained there nearly seven +weeks and was expected back every minute. + +Besides the Bezukhov family, Nicholas' old friend the retired +General Vasili Dmitrich Denisov was staying with the Rostovs this +fifth of December. + +On the sixth, which was his name day when the house would be full of +visitors, Nicholas knew he would have to exchange his Tartar tunic for +a tail coat, and put on narrow boots with pointed toes, and drive to +the new church he had built, and then receive visitors who would +come to congratulate him, offer them refreshments, and talk about +the elections of the nobility; but he considered himself entitled to +spend the eve of that day in his usual way. He examined the +bailiff's accounts of the village in Ryazan which belonged to his +wife's nephew, wrote two business letters, and walked over to the +granaries, cattle yards and stables before dinner. Having taken +precautions against the general drunkenness to be expected on the +morrow because it was a great saint's day, he returned to dinner, +and without having time for a private talk with his wife sat down at +the long table laid for twenty persons, at which the whole household +had assembled. At that table were his mother, his mother's old lady +companion Belova, his wife, their three children with their +governess and tutor, his wife's nephew with his tutor, Sonya, Denisov, +Natasha, her three children, their governess, and old Michael +Ivanovich, the late prince's architect, who was living on in +retirement at Bald Hills. + +Countess Mary sat at the other end of the table. When her husband +took his place she concluded, from the rapid manner in which after +taking up his table napkin he pushed back the tumbler and wineglass +standing before him, that he was out of humor, as was sometimes the +case when he came in to dinner straight from the farm--especially +before the soup. Countess Mary well knew that mood of his, and when +she herself was in a good frame of mind quietly waited till he had had +his soup and then began to talk to him and make him admit that there +was no cause for his ill-humor. But today she quite forgot that and +was hurt that he should be angry with her without any reason, and +she felt unhappy. She asked him where he had been. He replied. She +again inquired whether everything was going well on the farm. Her +unnatural tone made him wince unpleasantly and he replied hastily. + +"Then I'm not mistaken," thought Countess Mary. "Why is he cross +with me?" She concluded from his tone that he was vexed with her and +wished to end the conversation. She knew her remarks sounded +unnatural, but could not refrain from asking some more questions. + +Thanks to Denisov the conversation at table soon became general +and lively, and she did not talk to her husband. When they left the +table and went as usual to thank the old countess, Countess Mary +held out her hand and kissed her husband, and asked him why he was +angry with her. + +"You always have such strange fancies! I didn't even think of +being angry," he replied. + +But the word always seemed to her to imply: "Yes, I am angry but I +won't tell you why." + +Nicholas and his wife lived together so happily that even Sonya +and the old countess, who felt jealous and would have liked them to +disagree, could find nothing to reproach them with; but even they +had their moments of antagonism. Occasionally, and it was always +just after they had been happiest together, they suddenly had a +feeling of estrangement and hostility, which occurred most +frequently during Countess Mary's pregnancies, and this was such a +time. + +"Well, messieurs et mesdames," said Nicholas loudly and with +apparent cheerfulness (it seemed to Countess Mary that he did it on +purpose to vex her), "I have been on my feet since six this morning. +Tomorrow I shall have to suffer, so today I'll go and rest." + +And without a word to his wife he went to the little sitting room +and lay down on the sofa. + +"That's always the way," thought Countess Mary. "He talks to +everyone except me. I see... I see that I am repulsive to him, +especially when I am in this condition." She looked down at her +expanded figure and in the glass at her pale, sallow, emaciated face +in which her eyes now looked larger than ever. + +And everything annoyed her--Denisov's shouting and laughter, +Natasha's talk, and especially a quick glance Sonya gave her. + +Sonya was always the first excuse Countess Mary found for feeling +irritated. + +Having sat awhile with her visitors without understanding anything +of what they were saying, she softly left the room and went to the +nursery. + +The children were playing at "going to Moscow" in a carriage made of +chairs and invited her to go with them. She sat down and played with +them a little, but the thought of her husband and his unreasonable +crossness worried her. She got up and, walking on tiptoe with +difficulty, went to the small sitting room. + +"Perhaps he is not asleep; I'll have an explanation with him," she +said to herself. Little Andrew, her eldest boy, imitating his +mother, followed her on tiptoe. She did not notice him. + +"Mary, dear, I think he is asleep--he was so tired," said Sonya, +meeting her in the large sitting room (it seemed to Countess Mary that +she crossed her path everywhere). "Andrew may wake him." + +Countess Mary looked round, saw little Andrew following her, felt +that Sonya was right, and for that very reason flushed and with +evident difficulty refrained from saying something harsh. She made +no reply, but to avoid obeying Sonya beckoned to Andrew to follow +her quietly and went to the door. Sonya went away by another door. +From the room in which Nicholas was sleeping came the sound of his +even breathing, every slightest tone of which was familiar to his +wife. As she listened to it she saw before her his smooth handsome +forehead, his mustache, and his whole face, as she had so often seen +it in the stillness of the night when he slept. Nicholas suddenly +moved and cleared his throat. And at that moment little Andrew shouted +from outside the door: "Papa! Mamma's standing here!" Countess Mary +turned pale with fright and made signs to the boy. He grew silent, and +quiet ensued for a moment, terrible to Countess Mary. She knew how +Nicholas disliked being waked. Then through the door she heard +Nicholas clearing his throat again and stirring, and his voice said +crossly: + +"I can't get a moment's peace.... Mary, is that you? Why did you +bring him here?" + +"I only came in to look and did not notice... forgive me..." + +Nicholas coughed and said no more. Countess Mary moved away from the +door and took the boy back to the nursery. Five minutes later little +black-eyed three-year-old Natasha, her father's pet, having learned +from her brother that Papa was asleep and Mamma was in the sitting +room, ran to her father unobserved by her mother. The dark-eyed little +girl boldly opened the creaking door, went up to the sofa with +energetic steps of her sturdy little legs, and having examined the +position of her father, who was asleep with his back to her, rose on +tiptoe and kissed the hand which lay under his head. Nicholas turned +with a tender smile on his face. + +"Natasha, Natasha!" came Countess Mary's frightened whisper from the +door. "Papa wants to sleep." + +"No, Mamma, he doesn't want to sleep," said little Natasha with +conviction. "He's laughing." + +Nicholas lowered his legs, rose, and took his daughter in his arms. + +"Come in, Mary," he said to his wife. + +She went in and sat down by her husband. + +"I did not notice him following me," she said timidly. "I just +looked in." + +Holding his little girl with one arm, Nicholas glanced at his wife +and, seeing her guilty expression, put his other arm around her and +kissed her hair. + +"May I kiss Mamma?" he asked Natasha. + +Natasha smiled bashfully. + +"Again!" she commanded, pointing with a peremptory gesture to the +spot where Nicholas had placed the kiss. + +"I don't know why you think I am cross," said Nicholas, replying +to the question he knew was in his wife's mind. + +"You have no idea how unhappy, how lonely, I feel when you are +like that. It always seems to me..." + +"Mary, don't talk nonsense. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" he +said gaily. + +"It seems to be that you can't love me, that I am so plain... +always... and now... in this cond..." + +"Oh, how absurd you are! It is not beauty that endears, it's love +that makes us see beauty. It is only Malvinas and women of that kind +who are loved for their beauty. But do I love my wife? I don't love +her, but... I don't know how to put it. Without you, or when something +comes between us like this, I seem lost and can't do anything. Now +do I love my finger? I don't love it, but just try to cut it off!" + +"I'm not like that myself, but I understand. So you're not angry +with me?" + +"Awfully angry!" he said, smiling and getting up. And smoothing +his hair he began to pace the room. + +"Do you know, Mary, what I've been thinking?" he began, +immediately thinking aloud in his wife's presence now that they had +made it up. + +He did not ask if she was ready to listen to him. He did not care. A +thought had occurred to him and so it belonged to her also. And he +told her of his intention to persuade Pierre to stay with them till +spring. + +Countess Mary listened till he had finished, made some remark, and +in her turn began thinking aloud. Her thoughts were about the +children. + +"You can see the woman in her already," she said in French, pointing +to little Natasha. "You reproach us women with being illogical. Here +is our logic. I say: 'Papa wants to sleep!' but she says, 'No, he's +laughing.' And she was right," said Countess Mary with a happy smile. + +"Yes, yes." And Nicholas, taking his little daughter in his strong +hand, lifted her high, placed her on his shoulder, held her by the +legs, and paced the room with her. There was an expression of carefree +happiness on the faces of both father and daughter. + +"But you know you may be unfair. You are too fond of this one," +his wife whispered in French. + +"Yes, but what am I to do?... I try not to show..." + +At that moment they heard the sound of the door pulley and footsteps +in the hall and anteroom, as if someone had arrived. + +"Somebody has come." + +"I am sure it is Pierre. I will go and see," said Countess Mary +and left the room. + +In her absence Nicholas allowed himself to give his little +daughter a gallop round the room. Out of breath, he took the +laughing child quickly from his shoulder and pressed her to his heart. +His capers reminded him of dancing, and looking at the child's round +happy little face he thought of what she would be like when he was +an old man, taking her into society and dancing the mazurka with her +as his old father had danced Daniel Cooper with his daughter. + +"It is he, it is he, Nicholas!" said Countess Mary, re-entering +the room a few minutes later. "Now our Natasha has come to life. You +should have seen her ecstasy, and how he caught it for having stayed +away so long. Well, come along now, quick, quick! It's time you two +were parted," she added, looking smilingly at the little girl who +clung to her father. + +Nicholas went out holding the child by the hand. + +Countess Mary remained in the sitting room. + +"I should never, never have believed that one could be so happy," +she whispered to herself. A smile lit up her face but at the same time +she sighed, and her deep eyes expressed a quiet sadness as though +she felt, through her happiness, that there is another sort of +happiness unattainable in this life and of which she involuntarily +thought at that instant. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Natasha had married in the early spring of 1813, and in 1820 already +had three daughters besides a son for whom she had longed and whom she +was now nursing. She had grown stouter and broader, so that it was +difficult to recognize in this robust, motherly woman the slim, lively +Natasha of former days. Her features were more defined and had a calm, +soft, and serene expression. In her face there was none of the +ever-glowing animation that had formerly burned there and constituted +its charm. Now her face and body were often all that one saw, and her +soul was not visible at all. All that struck the eye was a strong, +handsome, and fertile woman. The old fire very rarely kindled in her +face now. That happened only when, as was the case that day, her +husband returned home, or a sick child was convalescent, or when she +and Countess Mary spoke of Prince Andrew (she never mentioned him to +her husband, who she imagined was jealous of Prince Andrew's memory), +or on the rare occasions when something happened to induce her to +sing, a practice she had quite abandoned since her marriage. At the +rare moments when the old fire did kindle in her handsome, fully +developed body she was even more attractive than in former days. + +Since their marriage Natasha and her husband had lived in Moscow, in +Petersburg, on their estate near Moscow, or with her mother, that is +to say, in Nicholas' house. The young Countess Bezukhova was not often +seen in society, and those who met her there were not pleased with her +and found her neither attractive nor amiable. Not that Natasha liked +solitude--she did not know whether she liked it or not, she even +thought that she did not--but with her pregnancies, her +confinements, the nursing of her children, and sharing every moment of +her husband's life, she had demands on her time which could be +satisfied only by renouncing society. All who had known Natasha before +her marriage wondered at the change in her as at something +extraordinary. Only the old countess with her maternal instinct had +realized that all Natasha's outbursts had been due to her need of +children and a husband--as she herself had once exclaimed at +Otradnoe not so much in fun as in earnest--and her mother was now +surprised at the surprise expressed by those who had never +understood Natasha, and she kept saying that she had always known that +Natasha would make an exemplary wife and mother. + +"Only she lets her love of her husband and children overflow all +bounds," said the countess, "so that it even becomes absurd." + +Natasha did not follow the golden rule advocated by clever folk, +especially by the French, which says that a girl should not let +herself go when she marries, should not neglect her accomplishments, +should be even more careful of her appearance than when she was +unmarried, and should fascinate her husband as much as she did before +he became her husband. Natasha on the contrary had at once abandoned +all her witchery, of which her singing had been an unusually powerful +part. She gave it up just because it was so powerfully seductive. She +took no pains with her manners or with delicacy of speech, or with her +toilet, or to show herself to her husband in her most becoming +attitudes, or to avoid inconveniencing him by being too exacting. She +acted in contradiction to all those rules. She felt that the +allurements instinct had formerly taught her to use would now be +merely ridiculous in the eyes of her husband, to whom she had from the +first moment given herself up entirely--that is, with her whole soul, +leaving no corner of it hidden from him. She felt that her unity with +her husband was not maintained by the poetic feelings that had +attracted him to her, but by something else--indefinite but firm as +the bond between her own body and soul. + +To fluff out her curls, put on fashionable dresses, and sing +romantic songs to fascinate her husband would have seemed as strange +as to adorn herself to attract herself. To adorn herself for others +might perhaps have been agreeable--she did not know--but she had no +time at all for it. The chief reason for devoting no time either to +singing, to dress, or to choosing her words was that she really had no +time to spare for these things. + +We know that man has the faculty of becoming completely absorbed +in a subject however trivial it may be, and that there is no subject +so trivial that it will not grow to infinite proportions if one's +entire attention is devoted to it. + +The subject which wholly engrossed Natasha's attention was her +family: that is, her husband whom she had to keep so that he should +belong entirely to her and to the home, and the children whom she +had to bear, bring into the world, nurse, and bring up. + +And the deeper she penetrated, not with her mind only but with her +whole soul, her whole being, into the subject that absorbed her, the +larger did that subject grow and the weaker and more inadequate did +her powers appear, so that she concentrated them wholly on that one +thing and yet was unable to accomplish all that she considered +necessary. + +There were then as now conversations and discussions about women's +rights, the relations of husband and wife and their freedom and +rights, though these themes were not yet termed questions as they +are now; but these topics were not merely uninteresting to Natasha, +she positively did not understand them. + +These questions, then as now, existed only for those who see nothing +in marriage but the pleasure married people get from one another, that +is, only the beginnings of marriage and not its whole significance, +which lies in the family. + +Discussions and questions of that kind, which are like the +question of how to get the greatest gratification from one's dinner, +did not then and do not now exist for those for whom the purpose of +a dinner is the nourishment it affords; and the purpose of marriage is +the family. + +If the purpose of dinner is to nourish the body, a man who eats +two dinners at once may perhaps get more enjoyment but will not attain +his purpose, for his stomach will not digest the two dinners. + +If the purpose of marriage is the family, the person who wishes to +have many wives or husbands may perhaps obtain much pleasure, but in +that case will not have a family. + +If the purpose of food is nourishment and the purpose of marriage is +the family, the whole question resolves itself into not eating more +than one can digest, and not having more wives or husbands than are +needed for the family--that is, one wife or one husband. Natasha +needed a husband. A husband was given her and he gave her a family. +And she not only saw no need of any other or better husband, but as +all the powers of her soul were intent on serving that husband and +family, she could not imagine and saw no interest in imagining how +it would be if things were different. + +Natasha did not care for society in general, but prized the more the +society of her relatives--Countess Mary, and her brother, her +mother, and Sonya. She valued the company of those to whom she could +come striding disheveled from the nursery in her dressing gown, and +with joyful face show a yellow instead of a green stain on baby's +napkin, and from whom she could hear reassuring words to the effect +that baby was much better. + +To such an extent had Natasha let herself go that the way she dressed +and did her hair, her ill-chosen words, and her jealousy--she was +jealous of Sonya, of the governess, and of every woman, pretty or +plain--were habitual subjects of jest to those about her. The general +opinion was that Pierre was under his wife's thumb, which was really +true. From the very first days of their married life Natasha had +announced her demands. Pierre was greatly surprised by his wife's +view, to him a perfectly novel one, that every moment of his life +belonged to her and to the family. His wife's demands astonished him, +but they also flattered him, and he submitted to them. + +Pierre's subjection consisted in the fact that he not only dared not +flirt with, but dared not even speak smilingly to, any other woman; +did not dare dine at the Club as a pastime, did not dare spend money +on a whim, and did not dare absent himself for any length of time, +except on business--in which his wife included his intellectual +pursuits, which she did not in the least understand but to which she +attributed great importance. To make up for this, at home Pierre had +the right to regulate his life and that of the whole family exactly as +he chose. At home Natasha placed herself in the position of a slave to +her husband, and the whole household went on tiptoe when he was +occupied--that is, was reading or writing in his study. Pierre had but +to show a partiality for anything to get just what he liked done +always. He had only to express a wish and Natasha would jump up and +run to fulfill it. + +The entire household was governed according to Pierre's supposed +orders, that is, by his wishes which Natasha tried to guess. Their way +of life and place of residence, their acquaintances and ties, +Natasha's occupations, the children's upbringing, were all selected +not merely with regard to Pierre's expressed wishes, but to what +Natasha from the thoughts he expressed in conversation supposed his +wishes to be. And she deduced the essentials of his wishes quite +correctly, and having once arrived at them clung to them +tenaciously. When Pierre himself wanted to change his mind she would +fight him with his own weapons. + +Thus in a time of trouble ever memorable to him after the birth of +their first child who was delicate, when they had to change the wet +nurse three times and Natasha fell ill from despair, Pierre one day +told her of Rousseau's view, with which he quite agreed, that to have +a wet nurse is unnatural and harmful. When her next baby was born, +despite the opposition of her mother, the doctors, and even of her +husband himself--who were all vigorously opposed to her nursing her +baby herself, a thing then unheard of and considered injurious--she +insisted on having her own way, and after that nursed all her babies +herself. + +It very often happened that in a moment of irritation husband and +wife would have a dispute, but long afterwards Pierre to his +surprise and delight would find in his wife's ideas and actions the +very thought against which she had argued, but divested of +everything superfluous that in the excitement of the dispute he had +added when expressing his opinion. + +After seven years of marriage Pierre had the joyous and firm +consciousness that he was not a bad man, and he felt this because he +saw himself reflected in his wife. He felt the good and bad within +himself inextricably mingled and overlapping. But only what was really +good in him was reflected in his wife, all that was not quite good was +rejected. And this was not the result of logical reasoning but was a +direct and mysterious reflection. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Two months previously when Pierre was already staying with the +Rostovs he had received a letter from Prince Theodore, asking him to +come to Petersburg to confer on some important questions that were +being discussed there by a society of which Pierre was one of the +principal founders. + +On reading that letter (she always read her husband's letters) +Natasha herself suggested that he should go to Petersburg, though +she would feel his absence very acutely. She attributed immense +importance to all her husband's intellectual and abstract interests +though she did not understand them, and she always dreaded being a +hindrance to him in such matters. To Pierre's timid look of inquiry +after reading the letter she replied by asking him to go, but to fix a +definite date for his return. He was given four weeks' leave of +absence. + +Ever since that leave of absence had expired, more than a +fortnight before, Natasha had been in a constant state of alarm, +depression, and irritability. + +Denisov, now a general on the retired list and much dissatisfied +with the present state of affairs, had arrived during that +fortnight. He looked at Natasha with sorrow and surprise as at a bad +likeness of a person once dear. A dull, dejected look, random replies, +and talk about the nursery was all he saw and heard from his former +enchantress. + +Natasha was sad and irritable all that time, especially when her +mother, her brother, Sonya, or Countess Mary in their efforts to +console her tried to excuse Pierre and suggested reasons for his delay +in returning. + +"It's all nonsense, all rubbish--those discussions which lead to +nothing and all those idiotic societies!" Natasha declared of the very +affairs in the immense importance of which she firmly believed. + +And she would go to the nursery to nurse Petya, her only boy. No one +else could tell her anything so comforting or so reasonable as this +little three-month-old creature when he lay at her breast and she +was conscious of the movement of his lips and the snuffling of his +little nose. That creature said: "You are angry, you are jealous, +you would like to pay him out, you are afraid--but here am I! And I am +he..." and that was unanswerable. It was more than true. + +During that fortnight of anxiety Natasha resorted to the baby for +comfort so often, and fussed over him so much, that she overfed him +and he fell ill. She was terrified by his illness, and yet that was +just what she needed. While attending to him she bore the anxiety +about her husband more easily. + +She was nursing her boy when the sound of Pierre's sleigh was +heard at the front door, and the old nurse--knowing how to please +her mistress--entered the room inaudibly but hurriedly and with a +beaming face. + +"Has he come?" Natasha asked quickly in a whisper, afraid to move +lest she should rouse the dozing baby. + +"He's come, ma'am," whispered the nurse. + +The blood rushed to Natasha's face and her feet involuntarily moved, +but she could not jump up and run out. The baby again opened his +eyes and looked at her. "You're here?" he seemed to be saying, and +again lazily smacked his lips. + +Cautiously withdrawing her breast, Natasha rocked him a little, +handed him to the nurse, and went with rapid steps toward the door. +But at the door she stopped as if her conscience reproached her for +having in her joy left the child too soon, and she glanced round. +The nurse with raised elbows was lifting the infant over the rail of +his cot. + +"Go, ma'am! Don't worry, go!" she whispered, smiling, with the +kind of familiarity that grows up between a nurse and her mistress. + +Natasha ran with light footsteps to the anteroom. + +Denisov, who had come out of the study into the dancing room with +his pipe, now for the first time recognized the old Natasha. A flood +of brilliant, joyful light poured from her transfigured face. + +"He's come!" she exclaimed as she ran past, and Denisov felt that he +too was delighted that Pierre, whom he did not much care for, had +returned. + +On reaching the vestibule Natasha saw a tall figure in a fur coat +unwinding his scarf. "It's he! It's really he! He has come!" she +said to herself, and rushing at him embraced him, pressed his head +to her breast, and then pushed him back and gazed at his ruddy, +happy face, covered with hoarfrost. "Yes, it is he, happy and +contented..." + +Then all at once she remembered the tortures of suspense she had +experienced for the last fortnight, and the joy that had lit up her +face vanished; she frowned and overwhelmed Pierre with a torrent of +reproaches and angry words. + +"Yes, it's all very well for you. You are pleased, you've had a good +time.... But what about me? You might at least have shown +consideration for the children. I am nursing and my milk was +spoiled.... Petya was at death's door. But you were enjoying yourself. +Yes, enjoying..." + +Pierre knew he was not to blame, for he could not have come +sooner; he knew this outburst was unseemly and would blow over in a +minute or two; above all he knew that he himself was bright and happy. +He wanted to smile but dared not even think of doing so. He made a +piteous, frightened face and bent down. + +"I could not, on my honor. But how is Petya?" + +"All right now. Come along! I wonder you're not ashamed! If only you +could see what I was like without you, how I suffered!" + +"You are well?" + +"Come, come!" she said, not letting go of his arm. And they went +to their rooms. + +When Nicholas and his wife came to look for Pierre he was in the +nursery holding his baby son, who was again awake, on his huge right +palm and dandling him. A blissful bright smile was fixed on the baby's +broad face with its toothless open mouth. The storm was long since +over and there was bright, joyous sunshine on Natasha's face as she +gazed tenderly at her husband and child. + +"And have you talked everything well over with Prince Theodore?" she +asked. + +"Yes, capitally." + +"You see, he holds it up." (She meant the baby's head.) "But how +he did frighten me... You've seen the princess? Is it true she's in +love with that..." + +"Yes, just fancy..." + +At that moment Nicholas and Countess Mary came in. Pierre with the +baby on his hand stooped, kissed them, and replied to their inquiries. +But in spite of much that was interesting and had to be discussed, the +baby with the little cap on its unsteady head evidently absorbed all +his attention. + +"How sweet!" said Countess Mary, looking at and playing with the +baby. "Now, Nicholas," she added, turning to her husband, "I can't +understand how it is you don't see the charm of these delicious +marvels." + +"I don't and can't," replied Nicholas, looking coldly at the baby. +"A lump of flesh. Come along, Pierre!" + +"And yet he's such an affectionate father," said Countess Mary, +vindicating her husband, "but only after they are a year old or so..." + +"Now, Pierre nurses them splendidly," said Natasha. "He says his +hand is just made for a baby's seat. Just look!" + +"Only not for this..." Pierre suddenly exclaimed with a laugh, and +shifting the baby he gave him to the nurse. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +As in every large household, there were at Bald Hills several +perfectly distinct worlds which merged into one harmonious whole, +though each retained its own peculiarities and made concessions to the +others. Every event, joyful or sad, that took place in that house +was important to all these worlds, but each had its own special +reasons to rejoice or grieve over that occurrence independently of the +others. + +For instance, Pierre's return was a joyful and important event and +they all felt it to be so. + +The servants--the most reliable judges of their masters because they +judge not by their conversation or expressions of feeling but by their +acts and way of life--were glad of Pierre's return because they knew +that when he was there Count Nicholas would cease going every day +to attend to the estate, and would be in better spirits and temper, +and also because they would all receive handsome presents for the +holidays. + +The children and their governesses were glad of Pierre's return +because no one else drew them into the social life of the household as +he did. He alone could play on the clavichord that ecossaise (his only +piece) to which, as he said, all possible dances could be danced, +and they felt sure he had brought presents for them all. + +Young Nicholas, now a slim lad of fifteen, delicate and intelligent, +with curly light-brown hair and beautiful eyes, was delighted +because Uncle Pierre as he called him was the object of his +rapturous and passionate affection. No one had instilled into him this +love for Pierre whom he saw only occasionally. Countess Mary who had +brought him up had done her utmost to make him love her husband as she +loved him, and little Nicholas did love his uncle, but loved him +with just a shade of contempt. Pierre, however, he adored. He did +not want to be an hussar or a Knight of St. George like his uncle +Nicholas; he wanted to be learned, wise, and kind like Pierre. In +Pierre's presence his face always shone with pleasure and he flushed +and was breathless when Pierre spoke to him. He did not miss a +single word he uttered, and would afterwards, with Dessalles or by +himself, recall and reconsider the meaning of everything Pierre had +said. Pierre's past life and his unhappiness prior to 1812 (of which +young Nicholas had formed a vague poetic picture from some words he +had overheard), his adventures in Moscow, his captivity, Platon +Karataev (of whom he had heard from Pierre), his love for Natasha +(of whom the lad was also particularly fond), and especially +Pierre's friendship with the father whom Nicholas could not +remember--all this made Pierre in his eyes a hero and a saint. + +From broken remarks about Natasha and his father, from the emotion +with which Pierre spoke of that dead father, and from the careful, +reverent tenderness with which Natasha spoke of him, the boy, who +was only just beginning to guess what love is, derived the notion that +his father had loved Natasha and when dying had left her to his +friend. But the father whom the boy did not remember appeared to him a +divinity who could not be pictured, and of whom he never thought +without a swelling heart and tears of sadness and rapture. So the +boy also was happy that Pierre had arrived. + +The guests welcomed Pierre because he always helped to enliven and +unite any company he was in. + +The grown-up members of the family, not to mention his wife, were +pleased to have back a friend whose presence made life run more +smoothly and peacefully. + +The old ladies were pleased with the presents he brought them, and +especially that Natasha would now be herself again. + +Pierre felt the different outlooks of these various worlds and +made haste to satisfy all their expectations. + +Though the most absent-minded and forgetful of men, Pierre, with the +aid of a list his wife drew up, had now bought everything, not +forgetting his mother--and brother-in-law's commissions, nor the dress +material for a present to Belova, nor toys for his wife's nephews. +In the early days of his marriage it had seemed strange to him that +his wife should expect him not to forget to procure all the things +he undertook to buy, and he had been taken aback by her serious +annoyance when on his first trip he forgot everything. But in time +he grew used to this demand. Knowing that Natasha asked nothing for +herself, and gave him commissions for others only when he himself +had offered to undertake them, he now found an unexpected and +childlike pleasure in this purchase of presents for everyone in the +house, and never forgot anything. If he now incurred Natasha's censure +it was only for buying too many and too expensive things. To her other +defects (as most people thought them, but which to Pierre were +qualities) of untidiness and neglect of herself, she now added +stinginess. + +From the time that Pierre began life as a family man on a footing +entailing heavy expenditure, he had noticed to his surprise that he +spent only half as much as before, and that his affairs--which had +been in disorder of late, chiefly because of his first wife's +debts--had begun to improve. + +Life was cheaper because it was circumscribed: that most expensive +luxury, the kind of life that can be changed at any moment, was no +longer his nor did he wish for it. He felt that his way of life had +now been settled once for all till death and that to change it was not +in his power, and so that way of life proved economical. + +With a merry, smiling face Pierre was sorting his purchases. + +"What do you think of this?" said he, unrolling a piece of stuff +like a shopman. + +Natasha, who was sitting opposite to him with her eldest daughter on +her lap, turned her sparkling eyes swiftly from her husband to the +things he showed her. + +"That's for Belova? Excellent!" She felt the quality of the +material. "It was a ruble an arshin, I suppose?" + +Pierre told her the price. + +"Too dear!" Natasha remarked. "How pleased the children will be +and Mamma too! Only you need not have bought me this," she added, +unable to suppress a smile as she gazed admiringly at a gold comb +set with pearls, of a kind then just coming into fashion. + +"Adele tempted me: she kept on telling me to buy it," returned +Pierre. + +"When am I to wear it?" and Natasha stuck it in her coil of hair. +"When I take little Masha into society? Perhaps they will be +fashionable again by then. Well, let's go now." + +And collecting the presents they went first to the nursery and +then to the old countess' rooms. + +The countess was sitting with her companion Belova, playing +grand-patience as usual, when Pierre and Natasha came into the drawing +room with parcels under their arms. + +The countess was now over sixty, was quite gray, and wore a cap with +a frill that surrounded her face. Her face had shriveled, her upper +lip had sunk in, and her eyes were dim. + +After the deaths of her son and husband in such rapid succession, +she felt herself a being accidentally forgotten in this world and left +without aim or object for her existence. She ate, drank, slept, or +kept awake, but did not live. Life gave her no new impressions. She +wanted nothing from life but tranquillity, and that tranquillity +only death could give her. But until death came she had to go on +living, that is, to use her vital forces. A peculiarity one sees in +very young children and very old people was particularly evident in +her. Her life had no external aims--only a need to exercise her +various functions and inclinations was apparent. She had to eat, +sleep, think, speak, weep, work, give vent to her anger, and so on, +merely because she had a stomach, a brain, muscles, nerves, and a +liver. She did these things not under any external impulse as people +in the full vigor of life do, when behind the purpose for which they +strive that of exercising their functions remains unnoticed. She +talked only because she physically needed to exercise her tongue and +lungs. She cried as a child does, because her nose had to be +cleared, and so on. What for people in their full vigor is an aim +was for her evidently merely a pretext. + +Thus in the morning--especially if she had eaten anything rich the +day before--she felt a need of being angry and would choose as the +handiest pretext Belova's deafness. + +She would begin to say something to her in a low tone from the other +end of the room. + +"It seems a little warmer today, my dear," she would murmur. + +And when Belova replied: "Oh yes, they've come," she would mutter +angrily: "O Lord! How stupid and deaf she is!" + +Another pretext would be her snuff, which would seem too dry or +too damp or not rubbed fine enough. After these fits of irritability +her face would grow yellow, and her maids knew by infallible +symptoms when Belova would again be deaf, the snuff damp, and the +countess' face yellow. Just as she needed to work off her spleen so +she had sometimes to exercise her still-existing faculty of +thinking--and the pretext for that was a game of patience. When she +needed to cry, the deceased count would be the pretext. When she +wanted to be agitated, Nicholas and his health would be the pretext, +and when she felt a need to speak spitefully, the pretext would be +Countess Mary. When her vocal organs needed exercise, which was +usually toward seven o'clock when she had had an after-dinner rest +in a darkened room, the pretext would be the retelling of the same +stories over and over again to the same audience. + +The old lady's condition was understood by the whole household +though no one ever spoke of it, and they all made every possible +effort to satisfy her needs. Only by a rare glance exchanged with a +sad smile between Nicholas, Pierre, Natasha, and Countess Mary was the +common understanding of her condition expressed. + +But those glances expressed something more: they said that she had +played her part in life, that what they now saw was not her whole +self, that we must all become like her, and that they were glad to +yield to her, to restrain themselves for this once precious being +formerly as full of life as themselves, but now so much to be +pitied. "Memento mori," said these glances. + +Only the really heartless, the stupid ones of that household, and +the little children failed to understand this and avoided her. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +When Pierre and his wife entered the drawing room the countess was +in one of her customary states in which she needed the mental exertion +of playing patience, and so--though by force of habit she greeted +him with the words she always used when Pierre or her son returned +after an absence: "High time, my dear, high time! We were all weary of +waiting for you. Well, thank God!" and received her presents with +another customary remark: "It's not the gift that's precious, my dear, +but that you give it to me, an old woman..."--yet it was evident +that she was not pleased by Pierre's arrival at that moment when it +diverted her attention from the unfinished game. + +She finished her game of patience and only then examined the +presents. They consisted of a box for cards, of splendid +workmanship, a bright-blue Sevres tea cup with shepherdesses +depicted on it and with a lid, and a gold snuffbox with the count's +portrait on the lid which Pierre had had done by a miniaturist in +Petersburg. The countess had long wished for such a box, but as she +did not want to cry just then she glanced indifferently at the +portrait and gave her attention chiefly to the box for cards. + +"Thank you, my dear, you have cheered me up," said she as she always +did. "But best of all you have brought yourself back--for I never +saw anything like it, you ought to give your wife a scolding! What are +we to do with her? She is like a mad woman when you are away. +Doesn't see anything, doesn't remember anything," she went on, +repeating her usual phrases. "Look, Anna Timofeevna," she added to her +companion, "see what a box for cards my son has brought us!" + +Belova admired the presents and was delighted with her dress +material. + +Though Pierre, Natasha, Nicholas, Countess Mary, and Denisov had +much to talk about that they could not discuss before the old +countess--not that anything was hidden from her, but because she had +dropped so far behindhand in many things that had they begun to +converse in her presence they would have had to answer inopportune +questions and to repeat what they had already told her many times: +that so-and-so was dead and so-and-so was married, which she would +again be unable to remember--yet they sat at tea round the samovar +in the drawing room from habit, and Pierre answered the countess' +questions as to whether Prince Vasili had aged and whether Countess +Mary Alexeevna had sent greetings and still thought of them, and other +matters that interested no one and to which she herself was +indifferent. + +Conversation of this kind, interesting to no one yet unavoidable, +continued all through teatime. All the grown-up members of the +family were assembled near the round tea table at which Sonya presided +beside the samovar. The children with their tutors and governesses had +had tea and their voices were audible from the next room. At tea all +sat in their accustomed places: Nicholas beside the stove at a small +table where his tea was handed to him; Milka, the old gray borzoi +bitch (daughter of the first Milka), with a quite gray face and +large black eyes that seemed more prominent than ever, lay on the +armchair beside him; Denisov, whose curly hair, mustache, and whiskers +had turned half gray, sat beside countess Mary with his general's +tunic unbuttoned; Pierre sat between his wife and the old countess. He +spoke of what he knew might interest the old lady and that she could +understand. He told her of external social events and of the people +who had formed the circle of her contemporaries and had once been a +real, living, and distinct group, but who were now for the most part +scattered about the world and like herself were garnering the last +ears of the harvests they had sown in earlier years. But to the old +countess those contemporaries of hers seemed to be the only serious +and real society. Natasha saw by Pierre's animation that his visit had +been interesting and that he had much to tell them but dare not say it +before the old countess. Denisov, not being a member of the family, +did not understand Pierre's caution and being, as a malcontent, much +interested in what was occurring in Petersburg, kept urging Pierre +to tell them about what had happened in the Semenovsk regiment, then +about Arakcheev, and then about the Bible Society. Once or twice +Pierre was carried away and began to speak of these things, but +Nicholas and Natasha always brought him back to the health of Prince +Ivan and Countess Mary Alexeevna. + +"Well, and all this idiocy--Gossner and Tatawinova?" Denisov +asked. "Is that weally still going on?" + +"Going on?" Pierre exclaimed. "Why more than ever! The Bible Society +is the whole government now!" + + "What is that, mon cher ami?" asked the countess, who had +finished her tea and evidently needed a pretext for being angry +after her meal. "What are you saying about the government? I don't +understand." + +"Well, you know, Maman," Nicholas interposed, knowing how to +translate things into his mother's language, "Prince Alexander +Golitsyn has founded a society and in consequence has great influence, +they say." + +"Arakcheev and Golitsyn," incautiously remarked Pierre, "are now the +whole government! And what a government! They see treason everywhere +and are afraid of everything." + +"Well, and how is Prince Alexander to blame? He is a most +estimable man. I used to meet him at Mary Antonovna's," said the +countess in an offended tone; and still more offended that they all +remained silent, she went on: "Nowadays everyone finds fault. A Gospel +Society! Well, and what harm is there in that?" and she rose +(everybody else got up too) and with a severe expression sailed back +to her table in the sitting room. + +The melancholy silence that followed was broken by the sounds of the +children's voices and laughter from the next room. Evidently some +jolly excitement was going on there. + +"Finished, finished!" little Natasha's gleeful yell rose above +them all. + +Pierre exchanged glances with Countess Mary and Nicholas (Natasha he +never lost sight of) and smiled happily. + +"That's delightful music!" said he. + +"It means that Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking," said +Countess Mary. + +"Oh, I'll go and see," said Pierre, jumping up. "You know," he +added, stopping at the door, "why I'm especially fond of that music? +It is always the first thing that tells me all is well. When I was +driving here today, the nearer I got to the house the more anxious I +grew. As I entered the anteroom I heard Andrusha's peals of laughter +and that meant that all was well." + +"I know! I know that feeling," said Nicholas. "But I mustn't go +there--those stockings are to be a surprise for me." + +Pierre went to the children, and the shouting and laughter grew +still louder. + +"Come, Anna Makarovna," Pierre's voice was heard saying, "come here +into the middle of the room and at the word of command, 'One, two,' +and when I say 'three'... You stand here, and you in my arms--well +now! One, two!..." said Pierre, and a silence followed: "three!" and a +rapturously breathless cry of children's voices filled the room. "Two, +two!" they shouted. + +This meant two stockings, which by a secret process known only to +herself Anna Makarovna used to knit at the same time on the same +needles, and which, when they were ready, she always triumphantly +drew, one out of the other, in the children's presence. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Soon after this the children came in to say good night. They +kissed everyone, the tutors and governesses made their bows, and +they went out. Only young Nicholas and his tutor remained. Dessalles +whispered to the boy to come downstairs. + +"No, Monsieur Dessalles, I will ask my aunt to let me stay," replied +Nicholas Bolkonski also in a whisper. + +"Ma tante, please let me stay," said he, going up to his aunt. + +His face expressed entreaty, agitation, and ecstasy. Countess Mary +glanced at him and turned to Pierre. + +"When you are here he can't tear himself away," she said. + +"I will bring him to you directly, Monsieur Dessalles. Good +night!" said Pierre, giving his hand to the Swiss tutor, and he turned +to young Nicholas with a smile. "You and I haven't seen anything of +one another yet... How like he is growing, Mary!" he added, addressing +Countess Mary. + +"Like my father?" asked the boy, flushing crimson and looking up +at Pierre with bright, ecstatic eyes. + +Pierre nodded, and went on with what he had been saying when the +children had interrupted. Countess Mary sat down doing woolwork; +Natasha did not take her eyes off her husband. Nicholas and Denisov +rose, asked for their pipes, smoked, went to fetch more tea from +Sonya--who sat weary but resolute at the samovar--and questioned +Pierre. The curly-headed, delicate boy sat with shining eyes unnoticed +in a corner, starting every now and then and muttering something to +himself, and evidently experiencing a new and powerful emotion as he +turned his curly head, with his thin neck exposed by his turn-down +collar, toward the place where Pierre sat. + +The conversation turned on the contemporary gossip about those in +power, in which most people see the chief interest of home politics. +Denisov, dissatisfied with the government on account of his own +disappointments in the service, heard with pleasure of the things done +in Petersburg which seemed to him stupid, and made forcible and +sharp comments on what Pierre told them. + +"One used to have to be a German--now one must dance with Tatawinova +and Madame Kwudener, and wead Ecka'tshausen and the bwethwen. Oh, they +should let that fine fellow Bonaparte lose--he'd knock all this +nonsense out of them! Fancy giving the command of the Semenov wegiment +to a fellow like that Schwa'tz!" he cried. + +Nicholas, though free from Denisov's readiness to find fault with +everything, also thought that discussion of the government was a +very serious and weighty matter, and the fact that A had been +appointed Minister of This and B Governor General of That, and that +the Emperor had said so-and-so and this minister so-and-so, seemed +to him very important. And so he thought it necessary to take an +interest in these things and to question Pierre. The questions put +by these two kept the conversation from changing its ordinary +character of gossip about the higher government circles. + +But Natasha, knowing all her husband's ways and ideas, saw that he +had long been wishing but had been unable to divert the conversation +to another channel and express his own deeply felt idea for the sake +of which he had gone to Petersburg to consult with his new friend +Prince Theodore, and she helped him by asking how his affairs with +Prince Theodore had gone. + +"What was it about?" asked Nicholas. + +"Always the same thing," said Pierre, looking round at his +listeners. "Everybody sees that things are going so badly that they +cannot be allowed to go on so and that it is the duty of all decent +men to counteract it as far as they can." + +"What can decent men do?" Nicholas inquired, frowning slightly. +"What can be done?" + +"Why, this..." + +"Come into my study," said Nicholas. + +Natasha, who had long expected to be fetched to nurse her baby, +now heard the nurse calling her and went to the nursery. Countess Mary +followed her. The men went into the study and little Nicholas +Bolkonski followed them unnoticed by his uncle and sat down at the +writing table in a shady corner by the window. + +"Well, what would you do?" asked Denisov. + +"Always some fantastic schemes," said Nicholas. + +"Why this," began Pierre, not sitting down but pacing the room, +sometimes stopping short, gesticulating, and lisping: "the position in +Petersburg is this: the Emperor does not look into anything. He has +abandoned himself altogether to this mysticism" (Pierre could not +tolerate mysticism in anyone now). "He seeks only for peace, and +only these people sans foi ni loi* can give it him--people who +recklessly hack at and strangle everything--Magnitski, Arakcheev, +and tutti quanti.... You will agree that if you did not look after +your estates yourself but only wanted a quiet life, the harsher your +steward was the more readily your object might be attained," he said +to Nicholas. + + +*Without faith or law. + + +"Well, what does that lead up to?" said Nicholas. + +"Well, everything is going to ruin! Robbery in the law courts, in +the army nothing but flogging, drilling, and Military Settlements; the +people are tortured, enlightenment is suppressed. All that is young +and honest is crushed! Everyone sees that this cannot go on. +Everything is strained to such a degree that it will certainly break," +said Pierre (as those who examine the actions of any government have +always said since governments began). "I told them just one thing in +Petersburg." + +"Told whom?" + +"Well, you know whom," said Pierre, with a meaning glance from under +his brows. "Prince Theodore and all those. To encourage culture and +philanthropy is all very well of course. The aim is excellent but in +the present circumstances something else is needed." + +At that moment Nicholas noticed the presence of his nephew. His face +darkened and he went up to the boy. + +"Why are you here?" + +"Why? Let him be," said Pierre, taking Nicholas by the arm and +continuing. "That is not enough, I told them. Something else is +needed. When you stand expecting the overstrained string to snap at +any moment, when everyone is expecting the inevitable catastrophe, +as many as possible must join hands as closely as they can to +withstand the general calamity. Everything that is young and strong is +being enticed away and depraved. One is lured by women, another by +honors, a third by ambition or money, and they go over to that camp. +No independent men, such as you or I, are left. What I say is widen +the scope of our society, let the mot d'ordre be not virtue alone +but independence and action as well!" + +Nicholas, who had left his nephew, irritably pushed up an +armchair, sat down in it, and listened to Pierre, coughing +discontentedly and frowning more and more. + +"But action with what aim?" he cried. "And what position will you +adopt toward the government?" + +"Why, the position of assistants. The society need not be secret +if the government allows it. Not merely is it not hostile to +government, but it is a society of true conservatives--a society of +gentlemen in the full meaning of that word. It is only to prevent some +Pugachev or other from killing my children and yours, and Arakcheev +from sending me off to some Military Settlement. We join hands only +for the public welfare and the general safety." + +"Yes, but it's a secret society and therefore a hostile and +harmful one which can only cause harm." + +"Why? Did the Tugendbund which saved Europe" (they did not then +venture to suggest that Russia had saved Europe) "do any harm? The +Tugendbund is an alliance of virtue: it is love, mutual help... it +is what Christ preached on the Cross." + +Natasha, who had come in during the conversation, looked joyfully at +her husband. It was not what he was saying that pleased her--that +did not even interest her, for it seemed to her that was all extremely +simple and that she had known it a long time (it seemed so to her +because she knew that it sprang from Pierre's whole soul), but it +was his animated and enthusiastic appearance that made her glad. + +The boy with the thin neck stretching out from the turn-down +collar--whom everyone had forgotten--gazed at Pierre with even greater +and more rapturous joy. Every word of Pierre's burned into his heart, +and with a nervous movement of his fingers he unconsciously broke the +sealing wax and quill pens his hands came upon on his uncle's table. + +"It is not at all what you suppose; but that is what the German +Tugendbund was, and what I am proposing." + +"No, my fwiend! The Tugendbund is all vewy well for the sausage +eaters, but I don't understand it and can't even pwonounce it," +interposed Denisov in a loud and resolute voice. "I agwee that +evewything here is wotten and howwible, but the Tugendbund I don't +understand. If we're not satisfied, let us have a bunt of our own. +That's all wight. Je suis vot'e homme!"* + + +*"I'm your man." + + +Pierre smiled, Natasha began to laugh, but Nicholas knitted his +brows still more and began proving to Pierre that there was no +prospect of any great change and that all the danger he spoke of +existed only in his imagination. Pierre maintained the contrary, and +as his mental faculties were greater and more resourceful, Nicholas +felt himself cornered. This made him still angrier, for he was fully +convinced, not by reasoning but by something within him stronger +than reason, of the justice of his opinion. + +"I will tell you this," he said, rising and trying with nervously +twitching fingers to prop up his pipe in a corner, but finally +abandoning the attempt. "I can't prove it to you. You say that +everything here is rotten and that an overthrow is coming: I don't see +it. But you also say that our oath of allegiance is a conditional +matter, and to that I reply: 'You are my best friend, as you know, but +if you formed a secret society and began working against the +government--be it what it may--I know it is my duty to obey the +government. And if Arakcheev ordered me to lead a squadron against you +and cut you down, I should not hesitate an instant, but should do it.' +And you may argue about that as you like!" + +An awkward silence followed these words. Natasha was the first to +speak, defending her husband and attacking her brother. Her defense +was weak and inapt but she attained her object. The conversation was +resumed, and no longer in the unpleasantly hostile tone of Nicholas' +last remark. + +When they all got up to go in to supper, little Nicholas Bolkonski +went up to Pierre, pale and with shining, radiant eyes. + +"Uncle Pierre, you... no... If Papa were alive... would he agree +with you?" he asked. + +And Pierre suddenly realized what a special, independent, complex, +and powerful process of thought and feeling must have been going on in +this boy during that conversation, and remembering all he had said +he regretted that the lad should have heard him. He had, however, to +give him an answer. + +"Yes, I think so," he said reluctantly, and left the study. + +The lad looked down and seemed now for the first time to notice what +he had done to the things on the table. He flushed and went up to +Nicholas. + +"Uncle, forgive me, I did that... unintentionally," he said, +pointing to the broken sealing wax and pens. + +Nicholas started angrily. + +"All right, all right," he said, throwing the bits under the table. + +And evidently suppressing his vexation with difficulty, he turned +away from the boy. + +"You ought not to have been here at all," he said. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The conversation at supper was not about politics or societies, +but turned on the subject Nicholas liked best--recollections of +1812. Denisov started these and Pierre was particularly agreeable +and amusing about them. The family separated on the most friendly +terms. + +After supper Nicholas, having undressed in his study and given +instructions to the steward who had been waiting for him, went to +the bedroom in his dressing gown, where he found his wife still at her +table, writing. + +"What are you writing, Mary?" Nicholas asked. + +Countess Mary blushed. She was afraid that what she was writing +would not be understood or approved by her husband. + +She had wanted to conceal what she was writing from him, but at +the same time was glad he had surprised her at it and that she would +now have to tell him. + +"A diary, Nicholas," she replied, handing him a blue exercise book +filled with her firm, bold writing. + +"A diary?" Nicholas repeated with a shade of irony, and he took up +the book. + +It was in French. + + +December 4. Today when Andrusha (her eldest boy) woke up he did +not wish to dress and Mademoiselle Louise sent for me. He was +naughty and obstinate. I tried threats, but he only grew angrier. Then +I took the matter in hand: I left him alone and began with nurse's +help to get the other children up, telling him that I did not love +him. For a long time he was silent, as if astonished, then he jumped +out of bed, ran to me in his shirt, and sobbed so that I could not +calm him for a long time. It was plain that what troubled him most was +that he had grieved me. Afterwards in the evening when I gave him +his ticket, he again began crying piteously and kissing me. One can do +anything with him by tenderness. + + +"What is a 'ticket'?" Nicholas inquired. + +"I have begun giving the elder ones marks every evening, showing how +they have behaved." + +Nicholas looked into the radiant eyes that were gazing at him, and +continued to turn over the pages and read. In the diary was set down +everything in the children's lives that seemed noteworthy to their +mother as showing their characters or suggesting general reflections +on educational methods. They were for the most part quite +insignificant trifles, but did not seem so to the mother or to the +father either, now that he read this diary about his children for +the first time. + +Under the date "5" was entered: + + +Mitya was naughty at table. Papa said he was to have no pudding. +He had none, but looked so unhappily and greedily at the others +while they were eating! I think that punishment by depriving +children of sweets only develops their greediness. Must tell +Nicholas this. + + +Nicholas put down the book and looked at his wife. The radiant +eyes gazed at him questioningly: would he approve or disapprove of her +diary? There could be no doubt not only of his approval but also of +his admiration for his wife. + +Perhaps it need not be done so pedantically, thought Nicholas, or +even done at all, but this untiring, continual spiritual effort of +which the sole aim was the children's moral welfare delighted him. Had +Nicholas been able to analyze his feelings he would have found that +his steady, tender, and proud love of his wife rested on his feeling +of wonder at her spirituality and at the lofty moral world, almost +beyond his reach, in which she had her being. + +He was proud of her intelligence and goodness, recognized his own +insignificance beside her in the spiritual world, and rejoiced all the +more that she with such a soul not only belonged to him but was part +of himself. + +"I quite, quite approve, my dearest!" said he with a significant +look, and after a short pause he added: "And I behaved badly today. +You weren't in the study. We began disputing--Pierre and I--and I lost +my temper. But he is impossible: such a child! I don't know what would +become of him if Natasha didn't keep him in hand.... Have you any idea +why he went to Petersburg? They have formed..." + +"Yes, I know," said Countess Mary. "Natasha told me." + +"Well, then, you know," Nicholas went on, growing hot at the mere +recollection of their discussion, "he wanted to convince me that it is +every honest man's duty to go against the government, and that the +oath of allegiance and duty... I am sorry you weren't there. They +all fell on me--Denisov and Natasha... Natasha is absurd. How she +rules over him! And yet there need only be a discussion and she has no +words of her own but only repeats his sayings..." added Nicholas, +yielding to that irresistible inclination which tempts us to judge +those nearest and dearest to us. He forgot that what he was saying +about Natasha could have been applied word for word to himself in +relation to his wife. + +"Yes, I have noticed that," said Countess Mary. + +"When I told him that duty and the oath were above everything, he +started proving goodness knows what! A pity you were not there--what +would you have said?" + +"As I see it you were quite right, and I told Natasha so. Pierre +says everybody is suffering, tortured, and being corrupted, and that +it is our duty to help our neighbor. Of course he is right there," +said Countess Mary, "but he forgets that we have other duties nearer +to us, duties indicated to us by God Himself, and that though we might +expose ourselves to risks we must not risk our children." + +"Yes, that's it! That's just what I said to him," put in Nicholas, +who fancied he really had said it. "But they insisted on their own +view: love of one's neighbor and Christianity--and all this in the +presence of young Nicholas, who had gone into my study and broke all +my things." + +"Ah, Nicholas, do you know I am often troubled about little +Nicholas," said Countess Mary. "He is such an exceptional boy. I am +afraid I neglect him in favor of my own: we all have children and +relations while he has no one. He is constantly alone with his +thoughts." + +"Well, I don't think you need reproach yourself on his account. +All that the fondest mother could do for her son you have done and are +doing for him, and of course I am glad of it. He is a fine lad, a fine +lad! This evening he listened to Pierre in a sort of trance, and +fancy--as we were going in to supper I looked and he had broken +everything on my table to bits, and he told me of it himself at +once! I never knew him to tell an untruth. A fine lad, a fine lad!" +repeated Nicholas, who at heart was not fond of Nicholas Bolkonski but +was always anxious to recognize that he was a fine lad. + +"Still, I am not the same as his own mother," said Countess Mary. "I +feel I am not the same and it troubles me. A wonderful boy, but I am +dreadfully afraid for him. It would be good for him to have +companions." + +"Well it won't be for long. Next summer I'll take him to +Petersburg," said Nicholas. "Yes, Pierre always was a dreamer and +always will be," he continued, returning to the talk in the study +which had evidently disturbed him. "Well, what business is it of +mine what goes on there--whether Arakcheev is bad, and all that? +What business was it of mine when I married and was so deep in debt +that I was threatened with prison, and had a mother who could not +see or understand it? And then there are you and the children and +our affairs. Is it for my own pleasure that I am at the farm or in the +office from morning to night? No, but I know I must work to comfort my +mother, to repay you, and not to leave the children such beggars as +I was." + +Countess Mary wanted to tell him that man does not live by bread +alone and that he attached too much importance to these matters. But +she knew she must not say this and that it would be useless to do +so. She only took his hand and kissed it. He took this as a sign of +approval and a confirmation of his thoughts, and after a few +minutes' reflection continued to think aloud. + +"You know, Mary, today Elias Mitrofanych" (this was his overseer) +"came back from the Tambov estate and told me they are already +offering eighty thousand rubles for the forest." + +And with an eager face Nicholas began to speak of the possibility of +repurchasing Otradnoe before long, and added: "Another ten years of +life and I shall leave the children... in an excellent position." + +Countess Mary listened to her husband and understood all that he +told her. She knew that when he thought aloud in this way he would +sometimes ask her what he had been saying, and be vexed if he +noticed that she had been thinking about something else. But she had +to force herself to attend, for what he was saying did not interest +her at all. She looked at him and did not think, but felt, about +something different. She felt a submissive tender love for this man +who would never understand all that she understood, and this seemed to +make her love for him still stronger and added a touch of passionate +tenderness. Besides this feeling which absorbed her altogether and +hindered her from following the details of her husband's plans, +thoughts that had no connection with what he was saying flitted +through her mind. She thought of her nephew. Her husband's account +of the boy's agitation while Pierre was speaking struck her +forcibly, and various traits of his gentle, sensitive character +recurred to her mind; and while thinking of her nephew she thought +also of her own children. She did not compare them with him, but +compared her feeling for them with her feeling for him, and felt +with regret that there was something lacking in her feeling for +young Nicholas. + +Sometimes it seemed to her that this difference arose from the +difference in their ages, but she felt herself to blame toward him and +promised in her heart to do better and to accomplish the +impossible--in this life to love her husband, her children, little +Nicholas, and all her neighbors, as Christ loved mankind. Countess +Mary's soul always strove toward the infinite, the eternal, and the +absolute, and could therefore never be at peace. A stern expression of +the lofty, secret suffering of a soul burdened by the body appeared on +her face. Nicholas gazed at her. "O God! What will become of us if she +dies, as I always fear when her face is like that?" thought he, and +placing himself before the icon he began to say his evening prayers. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Natasha and Pierre, left alone, also began to talk as only a husband +and wife can talk, that is, with extraordinary clearness and rapidity, +understanding and expressing each other's thoughts in ways contrary to +all rules of logic, without premises, deductions, or conclusions, and +in a quite peculiar way. Natasha was so used to this kind of talk with +her husband that for her it was the surest sign of something being +wrong between them if Pierre followed a line of logical reasoning. +When he began proving anything, or talking argumentatively and calmly +and she, led on by his example, began to do the same, she knew that +they were on the verge of a quarrel. + +From the moment they were alone and Natasha came up to him with +wide-open happy eyes, and quickly seizing his head pressed it to her +bosom, saying: "Now you are all mine, mine! You won't escape!"--from +that moment this conversation began, contrary to all the laws of logic +and contrary to them because quite different subjects were talked +about at one and the same time. This simultaneous discussion of many +topics did not prevent a clear understanding but on the contrary was +the surest sign that they fully understood one another. + +Just as in a dream when all is uncertain, unreasoning, and +contradictory, except the feeling that guides the dream, so in this +intercourse contrary to all laws of reason, the words themselves +were not consecutive and clear but only the feeling that prompted +them. + +Natasha spoke to Pierre about her brother's life and doings, of +how she had suffered and lacked life during his own absence, and of +how she was fonder than ever of Mary, and how Mary was in every way +better than herself. In saying this Natasha was sincere in +acknowledging Mary's superiority, but at the same time by saying it +she made a demand on Pierre that he should, all the same, prefer her +to Mary and to all other women, and that now, especially after +having seen many women in Petersburg, he should tell her so afresh. + +Pierre, answering Natasha's words, told her how intolerable it had +been for him to meet ladies at dinners and balls in Petersburg. + +"I have quite lost the knack of talking to ladies," he said. "It was +simply dull. Besides, I was very busy." + +Natasha looked intently at him and went on: + +"Mary is so splendid," she said. "How she understands children! It +is as if she saw straight into their souls. Yesterday, for instance, +Mitya was naughty..." + +"How like his father he is," Pierre interjected. + +Natasha knew why he mentioned Mitya's likeness to Nicholas: the +recollection of his dispute with his brother-in-law was unpleasant and +he wanted to know what Natasha thought of it. + +"Nicholas has the weakness of never agreeing with anything not +generally accepted. But I understand that you value what opens up a +fresh line," said she, repeating words Pierre had once uttered. + +"No, the chief point is that to Nicholas ideas and discussions are +an amusement--almost a pastime," said Pierre. "For instance, he is +collecting a library and has made it a rule not to buy a new book till +he has read what he had already bought--Sismondi and Rousseau and +Montesquieu," he added with a smile. "You know how much I..." he began +to soften down what he had said; but Natasha interrupted him to show +that this was unnecessary. + +"So you say ideas are an amusement to him...." + +"Yes, and for me nothing else is serious. All the time in Petersburg +I saw everyone as in a dream. When I am taken up by a thought, all +else is mere amusement." + +"Ah, I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you met the children," said +Natasha. "Which was most delighted? Lisa, I'm sure." + +"Yes," Pierre replied, and went on with what was in his mind. +"Nicholas says we ought not to think. But I can't help it. Besides, +when I was in Petersburg I felt (I can say this to you) that the whole +affair would go to pieces without me--everyone was pulling his own +way. But I succeeded in uniting them all; and then my idea is so clear +and simple. You see, I don't say that we ought to oppose this and +that. We may be mistaken. What I say is: 'Join hands, you who love the +right, and let there be but one banner--that of active virtue.' Prince +Sergey is a fine fellow and clever." + +Natasha would have had no doubt as to the greatness of Pierre's +idea, but one thing disconcerted her. "Can a man so important and +necessary to society be also my husband? How did this happen?" She +wished to express this doubt to him. "Now who could decide whether +he is really cleverer than all the others?" she asked herself, and +passed in review all those whom Pierre most respected. Judging by what +he had said there was no one he had respected so highly as Platon +Karataev. + +"Do you know what I am thinking about?" she asked. "About Platon +Karataev. Would he have approved of you now, do you think?" + +Pierre was not at all surprised at this question. He understood +his wife's line of thought. + +"Platon Karataev?" he repeated, and pondered, evidently sincerely +trying to imagine Karataev's opinion on the subject. "He would not +have understood... yet perhaps he would." + +"I love you awfully!" Natasha suddenly said. "Awfully, awfully!" + +"No, he would not have approved," said Pierre, after reflection. +"What he would have approved of is our family life. He was always so +anxious to find seemliness, happiness, and peace in everything, and +I should have been proud to let him see us. There now--you talk of +my absence, but you wouldn't believe what a special feeling I have for +you after a separation...." + +"Yes, I should think..." Natasha began. + +"No, it's not that. I never leave off loving you. And one couldn't +love more, but this is something special.... Yes, of course-" he did +not finish because their eyes meeting said the rest. + +"What nonsense it is," Natasha suddenly exclaimed, "about +honeymoons, and that the greatest happiness is at first! On the +contrary, now is the best of all. If only you did not go away! Do +you remember how we quarreled? And it was always my fault. Always +mine. And what we quarreled about--I don't even remember!" + +"Always about the same thing," said Pierre with a smile. "Jealo..." + +"Don't say it! I can't bear it!" Natasha cried, and her eyes +glittered coldly and vindictively. "Did you see her?" she added, after +a pause. + +"No, and if I had I shouldn't have recognized her." + +They were silent for a while. + +"Oh, do you know? While you were talking in the study I was looking at +you," Natasha began, evidently anxious to disperse the cloud that had +come over them. "You are as like him as two peas--like the boy." (She +meant her little son.) "Oh, it's time to go to him.... The milk's +come.... But I'm sorry to leave you." + +They were silent for a few seconds. Then suddenly turning to one +another at the same time they both began to speak. Pierre began with +self-satisfaction and enthusiasm, Natasha with a quiet, happy smile. +Having interrupted one another they both stopped to let the other +continue. + +"No. What did you say? Go on, go on." + +"No, you go on, I was talking nonsense," said Natasha. + +Pierre finished what he had begun. It was the sequel to his +complacent reflections on his success in Petersburg. At that moment it +seemed to him that he was chosen to give a new direction to the +whole of Russian society and to the whole world. + +"I only wished to say that ideas that have great results are +always simple ones. My whole idea is that if vicious people are united +and constitute a power, then honest folk must do the same. Now +that's simple enough." + +"Yes." + +"And what were you going to say?" + +"I? Only nonsense." + +"But all the same?" + +"Oh nothing, only a trifle," said Natasha, smilingly still more +brightly. "I only wanted to tell you about Petya: today nurse was +coming to take him from me, and he laughed, shut his eyes, and clung +to me. I'm sure he thought he was hiding. Awfully sweet! There, now +he's crying. Well, good-by!" and she left the room. + + +Meanwhile downstairs in young Nicholas Bolkonski's bedroom a +little lamp was burning as usual. (The boy was afraid of the dark +and they could not cure him of it.) Dessalles slept propped up on four +pillows and his Roman nose emitted sounds of rhythmic snoring. +Little Nicholas, who had just waked up in a cold perspiration, sat +up in bed and gazed before him with wide-open eyes. He had awaked from +a terrible dream. He had dreamed that he and Uncle Pierre, wearing +helmets such as were depicted in his Plutarch, were leading a huge +army. The army was made up of white slanting lines that filled the air +like the cobwebs that float about in autumn and which Dessalles called +les fils de la Vierge. In front was Glory, which was similar to +those threads but rather thicker. He and Pierre were borne along +lightly and joyously, nearer and nearer to their goal. Suddenly the +threads that moved them began to slacken and become entangled and it +grew difficult to move. And Uncle Nicholas stood before them in a +stern and threatening attitude. + +"Have you done this?" he said, pointing to some broken sealing wax and +pens. "I loved you, but I have orders from Arakcheev and will kill the +first of you who moves forward." Little Nicholas turned to look at +Pierre but Pierre was no longer there. In his place was his +father--Prince Andrew--and his father had neither shape nor form, but +he existed, and when little Nicholas perceived him he grew faint with +love: he felt himself powerless, limp, and formless. His father +caressed and pitied him. But Uncle Nicholas came nearer and nearer to +them. Terror seized young Nicholas and he awoke. + +"My father!" he thought. (Though there were two good portraits of +Prince Andrew in the house, Nicholas never imagined him in human +form.) "My father has been with me and caressed me. He approved of +me and of Uncle Pierre. Whatever he may tell me, I will do it. +Mucius Scaevola burned his hand. Why should not the same sort of thing +happen to me? I know they want me to learn. And I will learn. But +someday I shall have finished learning, and then I will do +something. I only pray God that something may happen to me such as +happened to Plutarch's men, and I will act as they did. I will do +better. Everyone shall know me, love me, and be delighted with me!" +And suddenly his bosom heaved with sobs and he began to cry. + +"Are you ill?" he heard Dessalles' voice asking. + +"No," answered Nicholas, and lay back on his pillow. + +"He is good and kind and I am fond of him!" he thought of Dessalles. +"But Uncle Pierre! Oh, what a wonderful man he is! And my father? +Oh, Father, Father! Yes, I will do something with which even he +would be satisfied...." + + + + + +SECOND EPILOGUE + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +History is the life of nations and of humanity. To seize and put +into words, to describe directly the life of humanity or even of a +single nation, appears impossible. + +The ancient historians all employed one and the same method to +describe and seize the apparently elusive--the life of a people. +They described the activity of individuals who ruled the people, and +regarded the activity of those men as representing the activity of the +whole nation. + +The question: how did individuals make nations act as they wished +and by what was the will of these individuals themselves guided? the +ancients met by recognizing a divinity which subjected the nations +to the will of a chosen man, and guided the will of that chosen man so +as to accomplish ends that were predestined. + +For the ancients these questions were solved by a belief in the +direct participation of the Deity in human affairs. + +Modern history, in theory, rejects both these principles. + +It would seem that having rejected the belief of the ancients in +man's subjection to the Deity and in a predetermined aim toward +which nations are led, modern history should study not the +manifestations of power but the causes that produce it. But modern +history has not done this. Having in theory rejected the view held +by the ancients, it still follows them in practice. + +Instead of men endowed with divine authority and directly guided by +the will of God, modern history has given us either heroes endowed +with extraordinary, superhuman capacities, or simply men of very +various kinds, from monarchs to journalists, who lead the masses. +Instead of the former divinely appointed aims of the Jewish, Greek, or +Roman nations, which ancient historians regarded as representing the +progress of humanity, modern history has postulated its own aims--the +welfare of the French, German, or English people, or, in its highest +abstraction, the welfare and civilization of humanity in general, by +which is usually meant that of the peoples occupying a small +northwesterly portion of a large continent. + +Modern history has rejected the beliefs of the ancients without +replacing them by a new conception, and the logic of the situation has +obliged the historians, after they had apparently rejected the +divine authority of the kings and the "fate" of the ancients, to reach +the same conclusion by another road, that is, to recognize (1) nations +guided by individual men, and (2) the existence of a known aim to +which these nations and humanity at large are tending. + +At the basis of the works of all the modern historians from Gibbon +to Buckle, despite their seeming disagreements and the apparent +novelty of their outlooks, lie those two old, unavoidable assumptions. + +In the first place the historian describes the activity of +individuals who in his opinion have directed humanity (one historian +considers only monarchs, generals, and ministers as being such men, +while another includes also orators, learned men, reformers, +philosophers, and poets). Secondly, it is assumed that the goal toward +which humanity is being led is known to the historians: to one of them +this goal is the greatness of the Roman, Spanish, or French realm; +to another it is liberty, equality, and a certain kind of civilization +of a small corner of the world called Europe. + +In 1789 a ferment arises in Paris; it grows, spreads, and is +expressed by a movement of peoples from west to east. Several times it +moves eastward and collides with a countermovement from the east +westward. In 1812 it reaches its extreme limit, Moscow, and then, with +remarkable symmetry, a countermovement occurs from east to west, +attracting to it, as the first movement had done, the nations of +middle Europe. The counter movement reaches the starting point of +the first movement in the west--Paris--and subsides. + +During that twenty-year period an immense number of fields were left +untilled, houses were burned, trade changed its direction, millions of +men migrated, were impoverished, or were enriched, and millions of +Christian men professing the law of love of their fellows slew one +another. + +What does all this mean? Why did it happen? What made those people +burn houses and slay their fellow men? What were the causes of these +events? What force made men act so? These are the instinctive, +plain, and most legitimate questions humanity asks itself when it +encounters the monuments and tradition of that period. + +For a reply to these questions the common sense of mankind turns +to the science of history, whose aim is to enable nations and humanity +to know themselves. + +If history had retained the conception of the ancients it would have +said that God, to reward or punish his people, gave Napoleon power and +directed his will to the fulfillment of the divine ends, and that +reply, would have been clear and complete. One might believe or +disbelieve in the divine significance of Napoleon, but for anyone +believing in it there would have been nothing unintelligible in the +history of that period, nor would there have been any contradictions. + +But modern history cannot give that reply. Science does not admit +the conception of the ancients as to the direct participation of the +Deity in human affairs, and therefore history ought to give other +answers. + +Modern history replying to these questions says: you want to know +what this movement means, what caused it, and what force produced +these events? Then listen: + +"Louis XIV was a very proud and self-confident man; he had such +and such mistresses and such and such ministers and he ruled France +badly. His descendants were weak men and they too ruled France +badly. And they had such and such favorites and such and such +mistresses. Moreover, certain men wrote some books at that time. At +the end of the eighteenth century there were a couple of dozen men +in Paris who began to talk about all men being free and equal. This +caused people all over France to begin to slash at and drown one +another. They killed the king and many other people. At that time +there was in France a man of genius--Napoleon. He conquered +everybody everywhere--that is, he killed many people because he was +a great genius. And for some reason he went to kill Africans, and +killed them so well and was so cunning and wise that when he +returned to France he ordered everybody to obey him, and they all +obeyed him. Having become an Emperor he again went out to kill +people in Italy, Austria, and Prussia. And there too he killed a great +many. In Russia there was an Emperor, Alexander, who decided to +restore order in Europe and therefore fought against Napoleon. In 1807 +he suddenly made friends with him, but in 1811 they again quarreled +and again began killing many people. Napoleon led six hundred thousand +men into Russia and captured Moscow; then he suddenly ran away from +Moscow, and the Emperor Alexander, helped by the advice of Stein and +others, united Europe to arm against the disturber of its peace. All +Napoleon's allies suddenly became his enemies and their forces +advanced against the fresh forces he raised. The Allies defeated +Napoleon, entered Paris, forced Napoleon to abdicate, and sent him +to the island of Elba, not depriving him of the title of Emperor and +showing him every respect, though five years before and one year later +they all regarded him as an outlaw and a brigand. Then Louis XVIII, +who till then had been the laughingstock both of the French and the +Allies, began to reign. And Napoleon, shedding tears before his Old +Guards, renounced the throne and went into exile. Then the skillful +statesmen and diplomatists (especially Talleyrand, who managed to +sit down in a particular chair before anyone else and thereby extended +the frontiers of France) talked in Vienna and by these conversations +made the nations happy or unhappy. Suddenly the diplomatists and +monarchs nearly quarreled and were on the point of again ordering +their armies to kill one another, but just then Napoleon arrived in +France with a battalion, and the French, who had been hating him, +immediately all submitted to him. But the Allied monarchs were angry +at this and went to fight the French once more. And they defeated +the genius Napoleon and, suddenly recognizing him as a brigand, sent +him to the island of St. Helena. And the exile, separated from the +beloved France so dear to his heart, died a lingering death on that +rock and bequeathed his great deeds to posterity. But in Europe a +reaction occurred and the sovereigns once again all began to oppress +their subjects." + +It would be a mistake to think that this is ironic--a caricature +of the historical accounts. On the contrary it is a very mild +expression of the contradictory replies, not meeting the questions, +which all the historians give, from the compilers of memoirs and the +histories of separate states to the writers of general histories and +the new histories of the culture of that period. + +The strangeness and absurdity of these replies arise from the fact +that modern history, like a deaf man, answers questions no one has +asked. + +If the purpose of history be to give a description of the movement +of humanity and of the peoples, the first question--in the absence +of a reply to which all the rest will be incomprehensible--is: what is +the power that moves peoples? To this, modern history laboriously +replies either that Napoleon was a great genius, or that Louis XIV was +very proud, or that certain writers wrote certain books. + +All that may be so and mankind is ready to agree with it, but it +is not what was asked. All that would be interesting if we +recognized a divine power based on itself and always consistently +directing its nations through Napoleons, Louis-es, and writers; but we +do not acknowledge such a power, and therefore before speaking about +Napoleons, Louis-es, and authors, we ought to be shown the +connection existing between these men and the movement of the nations. + +If instead of a divine power some other force has appeared, it +should be explained in what this new force consists, for the whole +interest of history lies precisely in that force. + +History seems to assume that this force is self-evident and known to +everyone. But in spite of every desire to regard it as known, anyone +reading many historical works cannot help doubting whether this new +force, so variously understood by the historians themselves, is really +quite well known to everybody. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +What force moves the nations? + +Biographical historians and historians of separate nations +understand this force as a power inherent in heroes and rulers. In +their narration events occur solely by the will of a Napoleon, and +Alexander, or in general of the persons they describe. The answers +given by this kind of historian to the question of what force causes +events to happen are satisfactory only as long as there is but one +historian to each event. As soon as historians of different +nationalities and tendencies begin to describe the same event, the +replies they give immediately lose all meaning, for this force is +understood by them all not only differently but often in quite +contradictory ways. One historian says that an event was produced by +Napoleon's power, another that it was produced by Alexander's, a third +that it was due to the power of some other person. Besides this, +historians of that kind contradict each other even in their +statement as to the force on which the authority of some particular +person was based. Thiers, a Bonapartist, says that Napoleon's power +was based on his virtue and genius. Lanfrey, a Republican, says it was +based on his trickery and deception of the people. So the historians +of this class, by mutually destroying one another's positions, destroy +the understanding of the force which produces events, and furnish no +reply to history's essential question. + +Writers of universal history who deal with all the nations seem to +recognize how erroneous is the specialist historians' view of the +force which produces events. They do not recognize it as a power +inherent in heroes and rulers, but as the resultant of a +multiplicity of variously directed forces. In describing a war or +the subjugation of a people, a general historian looks for the cause +of the event not in the power of one man, but in the interaction of +many persons connected with the event. + +According to this view the power of historical personages, +represented as the product of many forces, can no longer, it would +seem, be regarded as a force that itself produces events. Yet in +most cases universal historians still employ the conception of power +as a force that itself produces events, and treat it as their cause. +In their exposition, an historic character is first the product of his +time, and his power only the resultant of various forces, and then his +power is itself a force producing events. Gervinus, Schlosser, and +others, for instance, at one time prove Napoleon to be a product of +the Revolution, of the ideas of 1789 and so forth, and at another +plainly say that the campaign of 1812 and other things they do not +like were simply the product of Napoleon's misdirected will, and +that the very ideas of 1789 were arrested in their development by +Napoleon's caprice. The ideas of the Revolution and the general temper +of the age produced Napoleon's power. But Napoleon's power +suppressed the ideas of the Revolution and the general temper of the +age. + +This curious contradiction is not accidental. Not only does it occur +at every step, but the universal historians' accounts are all made +up of a chain of such contradictions. This contradiction occurs +because after entering the field of analysis the universal +historians stop halfway. + +To find component forces equal to the composite or resultant +force, the sum of the components must equal the resultant. This +condition is never observed by the universal historians, and so to +explain the resultant forces they are obliged to admit, in addition to +the insufficient components, another unexplained force affecting the +resultant action. + +Specialist historians describing the campaign of 1813 or the +restoration of the Bourbons plainly assert that these events were +produced by the will of Alexander. But the universal historian +Gervinus, refuting this opinion of the specialist historian, tries to +prove that the campaign of 1813 and the restoration of the Bourbons +were due to other things beside Alexander's will--such as the activity +of Stein, Metternich, Madame de Stael, Talleyrand, Fichte +Chateaubriand, and others. The historian evidently decomposes +Alexander's power into the components: Talleyrand, Chateaubriand, and +the rest--but the sum of the components, that is, the interactions of +Chateaubriand, Talleyrand, Madame de Stael, and the others, evidently +does not equal the resultant, namely the phenomenon of millions of +Frenchmen submitting to the Bourbons. That Chateaubriand, Madame de +Stael, and others spoke certain words to one another only affected +their mutual relations but does not account for the submission of +millions. And therefore to explain how from these relations of theirs +the submission of millions of people resulted--that is, how component +forces equal to one A gave a resultant equal to a thousand times +A--the historian is again obliged to fall back on power--the force he +had denied--and to recognize it as the resultant of the forces, that +is, he has to admit an unexplained force acting on the resultant. And +that is just what the universal historians do, and consequently they +not only contradict the specialist historians but contradict +themselves. + +Peasants having no clear idea of the cause of rain, say, according to +whether they want rain or fine weather: "The wind has blown the clouds +away," or, "The wind has brought up the clouds." And in the same way +the universal historians sometimes, when it pleases them and fits in +with their theory, say that power is the result of events, and +sometimes, when they want to prove something else, say that power +produces events. + +A third class of historians--the so-called historians of +culture--following the path laid down by the universal historians who +sometimes accept writers and ladies as forces producing events--again +take that force to be something quite different. They see it in what +is called culture--in mental activity. + +The historians of culture are quite consistent in regard to their +progenitors, the writers of universal histories, for if historical +events may be explained by the fact that certain persons treated one +another in such and such ways, why not explain them by the fact that +such and such people wrote such and such books? Of the immense +number of indications accompanying every vital phenomenon, these +historians select the indication of intellectual activity and say that +this indication is the cause. But despite their endeavors to prove +that the cause of events lies in intellectual activity, only by a +great stretch can one admit that there is any connection between +intellectual activity and the movement of peoples, and in no case +can one admit that intellectual activity controls people's actions, +for that view is not confirmed by such facts as the very cruel murders +of the French Revolution resulting from the doctrine of the equality +of man, or the very cruel wars and executions resulting from the +preaching of love. + +But even admitting as correct all the cunningly devised arguments +with which these histories are filled--admitting that nations are +governed by some undefined force called an idea--history's essential +question still remains unanswered, and to the former power of monarchs +and to the influence of advisers and other people introduced by the +universal historians, another, newer force--the idea--is added, the +connection of which with the masses needs explanation. It is +possible to understand that Napoleon had power and so events occurred; +with some effort one may even conceive that Napoleon together with +other influences was the cause of an event; but how a book, Le Contrat +social, had the effect of making Frenchmen begin to drown one +another cannot be understood without an explanation of the causal +nexus of this new force with the event. + +Undoubtedly some relation exists between all who live +contemporaneously, and so it is possible to find some connection +between the intellectual activity of men and their historical +movements, just as such a connection may be found between the +movements of humanity and commerce, handicraft, gardening, or anything +else you please. But why intellectual activity is considered by the +historians of culture to be the cause or expression of the whole +historical movement is hard to understand. Only the following +considerations can have led the historians to such a conclusion: (1) +that history is written by learned men, and so it is natural and +agreeable for them to think that the activity of their class +supplies the basis of the movement of all humanity, just as a +similar belief is natural and agreeable to traders, agriculturists, +and soldiers (if they do not express it, that is merely because +traders and soldiers do not write history), and (2) that spiritual +activity, enlightenment, civilization, culture, ideas, are all +indistinct, indefinite conceptions under whose banner it is very +easy to use words having a still less definite meaning, and which +can therefore be readily introduced into any theory. + +But not to speak of the intrinsic quality of histories of this +kind (which may possibly even be of use to someone for something) +the histories of culture, to which all general histories tend more and +more to approximate, are significant from the fact that after +seriously and minutely examining various religious, philosophic, and +political doctrines as causes of events, as soon as they have to +describe an actual historic event such as the campaign of 1812 for +instance, they involuntarily describe it as resulting from an exercise +of power--and say plainly that that was the result of Napoleon's will. +Speaking so, the historians of culture involuntarily contradict +themselves, and show that the new force they have devised does not +account for what happens in history, and that history can only be +explained by introducing a power which they apparently do not +recognize. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +A locomotive is moving. Someone asks: "What moves it?" A peasant +says the devil moves it. Another man says the locomotive moves because +its wheels go round. A third asserts that the cause of its movement +lies in the smoke which the wind carries away. + +The peasant is irrefutable. He has devised a complete explanation. +To refute him someone would have to prove to him that there is no +devil, or another peasant would have to explain to him that it is +not the devil but a German, who moves the locomotive. Only then, as +a result of the contradiction, will they see that they are both wrong. +But the man who says that the movement of the wheels is the cause +refutes himself, for having once begun to analyze he ought to go on +and explain further why the wheels go round; and till he has reached +the ultimate cause of the movement of the locomotive in the pressure +of steam in the boiler, he has no right to stop in his search for +the cause. The man who explains the movement of the locomotive by +the smoke that is carried back has noticed that the wheels do not +supply an explanation and has taken the first sign that occurs to +him and in his turn has offered that as an explanation. + +The only conception that can explain the movement of the +locomotive is that of a force commensurate with the movement observed. + +The only conception that can explain the movement of the peoples +is that of some force commensurate with the whole movement of the +peoples. + +Yet to supply this conception various historians take forces of +different kinds, all of which are incommensurate with the movement +observed. Some see it as a force directly inherent in heroes, as the +peasant sees the devil in the locomotive; others as a force +resulting from several other forces, like the movement of the +wheels; others again as an intellectual influence, like the smoke that +is blown away. + +So long as histories are written of separate individuals, whether +Caesars, Alexanders, Luthers, or Voltaires, and not the histories of +all, absolutely all those who take part in an event, it is quite +impossible to describe the movement of humanity without the conception +of a force compelling men to direct their activity toward a certain +end. And the only such conception known to historians is that of +power. + +This conception is the one handle by means of which the material +of history, as at present expounded, can be dealt with, and anyone who +breaks that handle off, as Buckle did, without finding some other +method of treating historical material, merely deprives himself of the +one possible way of dealing with it. The necessity of the conception +of power as an explanation of historical events is best demonstrated +by the universal historians and historians of culture themselves, +for they professedly reject that conception but inevitably have +recourse to it at every step. + +In dealing with humanity's inquiry, the science of history up to now +is like money in circulation--paper money and coin. The biographies +and special national histories are like paper money. They can be +used and can circulate and fulfill their purpose without harm to +anyone and even advantageously, as long as no one asks what is the +security behind them. You need only forget to ask how the will of +heroes produces events, and such histories as Thiers' will be +interesting and instructive and may perhaps even possess a tinge of +poetry. But just as doubts of the real value of paper money arise +either because, being easy to make, too much of it gets made or +because people try to exchange it for gold, so also doubts +concerning the real value of such histories arise either because too +many of them are written or because in his simplicity of heart someone +inquires: by what force did Napoleon do this?--that is, wants to +exchange the current paper money for the real gold of actual +comprehension. + +The writers of universal histories and of the history of culture are +like people who, recognizing the defects of paper money, decide to +substitute for it money made of metal that has not the specific +gravity of gold. It may indeed make jingling coin, but will do no more +than that. Paper money may deceive the ignorant, but nobody is +deceived by tokens of base metal that have no value but merely jingle. +As gold is gold only if it is serviceable not merely for exchange +but also for use, so universal historians will be valuable only when +they can reply to history's essential question: what is power? The +universal historians give contradictory replies to that question, +while the historians of culture evade it and answer something quite +different. And as counters of imitation gold can be used only among +a group of people who agree to accept them as gold, or among those who +do not know the nature of gold, so universal historians and historians +of culture, not answering humanity's essential question, serve as +currency for some purposes of their own, only in universities and +among the mass of readers who have a taste for what they call "serious +reading." + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Having abandoned the conception of the ancients as to the divine +subjection of the will of a nation to some chosen man and the +subjection of that man's will to the Deity, history cannot without +contradictions take a single step till it has chosen one of two +things: either a return to the former belief in the direct +intervention of the Deity in human affairs or a definite explanation +of the meaning of the force producing historical events and termed +"power." + +A return to the first is impossible, the belief has been +destroyed; and so it is essential to explain what is meant by power. + +Napoleon ordered an army to be raised and go to war. We are so +accustomed to that idea and have become so used to it that the +question: why did six hundred thousand men go to fight when Napoleon +uttered certain words, seems to us senseless. He had the power and +so what he ordered was done. + +This reply is quite satisfactory if we believe that the power was +given him by God. But as soon as we do not admit that, it becomes +essential to determine what is this power of one man over others. + +It cannot be the direct physical power of a strong man over a weak +one--a domination based on the application or threat of physical +force, like the power of Hercules; nor can it be based on the effect +of moral force, as in their simplicity some historians think who say +that the leading figures in history are heroes, that is, men gifted +with a special strength of soul and mind called genius. This power +cannot be based on the predominance of moral strength, for, not to +mention heroes such as Napoleon about whose moral qualities opinions +differ widely, history shows us that neither a Louis XI nor a +Metternich, who ruled over millions of people, had any particular +moral qualities, but on the contrary were generally morally weaker +than any of the millions they ruled over. + +If the source of power lies neither in the physical nor in the moral +qualities of him who possesses it, it must evidently be looked for +elsewhere--in the relation to the people of the man who wields the +power. + +And that is how power is understood by the science of jurisprudence, +that exchange bank of history which offers to exchange history's +understanding of power for true gold. + +Power is the collective will of the people transferred, by expressed +or tacit consent, to their chosen rulers. + +In the domain of jurisprudence, which consists of discussions of how +a state and power might be arranged were it possible for all that to +be arranged, it is all very clear; but when applied to history that +definition of power needs explanation. + +The science of jurisprudence regards the state and power as the +ancients regarded fire--namely, as something existing absolutely. +But for history, the state and power are merely phenomena, just as for +modern physics fire is not an element but a phenomenon. + +From this fundamental difference between the view held by history +and that held by jurisprudence, it follows that jurisprudence can tell +minutely how in its opinion power should be constituted and what +power--existing immutably outside time--is, but to history's questions +about the meaning of the mutations of power in time it can answer +nothing. + +If power be the collective will of the people transferred to their +ruler, was Pugachev a representative of the will of the people? If +not, then why was Napoleon I? Why was Napoleon III a criminal when +he was taken prisoner at Boulogne, and why, later on, were those +criminals whom he arrested? + +Do palace revolutions--in which sometimes only two or three people +take part--transfer the will of the people to a new ruler? In +international relations, is the will of the people also transferred to +their conqueror? Was the will of the Confederation of the Rhine +transferred to Napoleon in 1806? Was the will of the Russian people +transferred to Napoleon in 1809, when our army in alliance with the +French went to fight the Austrians? + +To these questions three answers are possible: + +Either to assume (1) that the will of the people is always +unconditionally transferred to the ruler or rulers they have chosen, +and that therefore every emergence of a new power, every struggle +against the power once appointed, should be absolutely regarded as +an infringement of the real power; or (2) that the will of the +people is transferred to the rulers conditionally, under definite +and known conditions, and to show that all limitations, conflicts, and +even destructions of power result from a nonobservance by the rulers +of the conditions under which their power was entrusted to them; or +(3) that the will of the people is delegated to the rulers +conditionally, but that the conditions are unknown and indefinite, and +that the appearance of several authorities, their struggles and +their falls, result solely from the greater or lesser fulfillment by +the rulers of these unknown conditions on which the will of the people +is transferred from some people to others. + +And these are the three ways in which the historians do explain +the relation of the people to their rulers. + +Some historians--those biographical and specialist historians +already referred to--in their simplicity failing to understand the +question of the meaning of power, seem to consider that the collective +will of the people is unconditionally transferred to historical +persons, and therefore when describing some single state they assume +that particular power to be the one absolute and real power, and +that any other force opposing this is not a power but a violation of +power--mere violence. + +Their theory, suitable for primitive and peaceful periods of +history, has the inconvenience--in application to complex and stormy +periods in the life of nations during which various powers arise +simultaneously and struggle with one another--that a Legitimist +historian will prove that the National Convention, the Directory, +and Bonaparte were mere infringers of the true power, while a +Republican and a Bonapartist will prove: the one that the Convention +and the other that the Empire was the real power, and that all the +others were violations of power. Evidently the explanations +furnished by these historians being mutually contradictory can only +satisfy young children. + +Recognizing the falsity of this view of history, another set of +historians say that power rests on a conditional delegation of the +will of the people to their rulers, and that historical leaders have +power only conditionally on carrying out the program that the will +of the people has by tacit agreement prescribed to them. But what this +program consists in these historians do not say, or if they do they +continually contradict one another. + +Each historian, according to his view of what constitutes a nation's +progress, looks for these conditions in the greatness, wealth, +freedom, or enlightenment of citizens of France or some other country. +But not to mention the historians' contradictions as to the nature +of this program--or even admitting that some one general program of +these conditions exists--the facts of history almost always contradict +that theory. If the conditions under which power is entrusted +consist in the wealth, freedom, and enlightenment of the people, how +is it that Louis XIV and Ivan the Terrible end their reigns +tranquilly, while Louis XVI and Charles I are executed by their +people? To this question historians reply that Louis XIV's activity, +contrary to the program, reacted on Louis XVI. But why did it not +react on Louis XIV or on Louis XV--why should it react just on Louis +XVI? And what is the time limit for such reactions? To these questions +there are and can be no answers. Equally little does this view explain +why for several centuries the collective will is not withdrawn from +certain rulers and their heirs, and then suddenly during a period of +fifty years is transferred to the Convention, to the Directory, to +Napoleon, to Alexander, to Louis XVIII, to Napoleon again, to +Charles X, to Louis Philippe, to a Republican government, and to +Napoleon III. When explaining these rapid transfers of the people's +will from one individual to another, especially in view of +international relations, conquests, and alliances, the historians +are obliged to admit that some of these transfers are not normal +delegations of the people's will but are accidents dependent on +cunning, on mistakes, on craft, or on the weakness of a diplomatist, a +ruler, or a party leader. So that the greater part of the events of +history--civil wars, revolutions, and conquests--are presented by +these historians not as the results of free transferences of the +people's will, but as results of the ill-directed will of one or +more individuals, that is, once again, as usurpations of power. And so +these historians also see and admit historical events which are +exceptions to the theory. + +These historians resemble a botanist who, having noticed that some +plants grow from seeds producing two cotyledons, should insist that +all that grows does so by sprouting into two leaves, and that the +palm, the mushroom, and even the oak, which blossom into full growth +and no longer resemble two leaves, are deviations from the theory. + +Historians of the third class assume that the will of the people +is transferred to historic personages conditionally, but that the +conditions are unknown to us. They say that historical personages have +power only because they fulfill the will of the people which has +been delegated to them. + +But in that case, if the force that moves nations lies not in the +historic leaders but in the nations themselves, what significance have +those leaders? + +The leaders, these historians tell us, express the will of the +people: the activity of the leaders represents the activity of the +people. + +But in that case the question arises whether all the activity of the +leaders serves as an expression of the people's will or only some part +of it. If the whole activity of the leaders serves as the expression +of the people's will, as some historians suppose, then all the details +of the court scandals contained in the biographies of a Napoleon or +a Catherine serve to express the life of the nation, which is +evident nonsense; but if it is only some particular side of the +activity of an historical leader which serves to express the +people's life, as other so-called "philosophical" historians +believe, then to determine which side of the activity of a leader +expresses the nation's life, we have first of all to know in what +the nation's life consists. + +Met by this difficulty historians of that class devise some most +obscure, impalpable, and general abstraction which can cover all +conceivable occurrences, and declare this abstraction to be the aim of +humanity's movement. The most usual generalizations adopted by +almost all the historians are: freedom, equality, enlightenment, +progress, civilization, and culture. Postulating some generalization +as the goal of the movement of humanity, the historians study the +men of whom the greatest number of monuments have remained: kings, +ministers, generals, authors, reformers, popes, and journalists, to +the extent to which in their opinion these persons have promoted or +hindered that abstraction. But as it is in no way proved that the +aim of humanity does consist in freedom, equality, enlightenment, or +civilization, and as the connection of the people with the rulers +and enlighteners of humanity is only based on the arbitrary assumption +that the collective will of the people is always transferred to the +men whom we have noticed, it happens that the activity of the millions +who migrate, burn houses, abandon agriculture, and destroy one another +never is expressed in the account of the activity of some dozen people +who did not burn houses, practice agriculture, or slay their fellow +creatures. + +History proves this at every turn. Is the ferment of the peoples +of the west at the end of the eighteenth century and their drive +eastward explained by the activity of Louis XIV, XV, and XVI, their +mistresses and ministers, and by the lives of Napoleon, Rousseau, +Diderot, Beaumarchais, and others? + +Is the movement of the Russian people eastward to Kazan and +Siberia expressed by details of the morbid character of Ivan the +Terrible and by his correspondence with Kurbski? + +Is the movement of the peoples at the time of the Crusades explained +by the life and activity of the Godfreys and the Louis-es and their +ladies? For us that movement of the peoples from west to east, without +leaders, with a crowd of vagrants, and with Peter the Hermit, +remains incomprehensible. And yet more incomprehensible is the +cessation of that movement when a rational and sacred aim for the +Crusade--the deliverance of Jerusalem--had been clearly defined by +historic leaders. Popes, kings, and knights incited the peoples to +free the Holy Land; but the people did not go, for the unknown cause +which had previously impelled them to go no longer existed. The +history of the Godfreys and the Minnesingers can evidently not cover +the life of the peoples. And the history of the Godfreys and the +Minnesingers has remained the history of Godfreys and Minnesingers, +but the history of the life of the peoples and their impulses has +remained unknown. + +Still less does the history of authors and reformers explain to us +the life of the peoples. + +The history of culture explains to us the impulses and conditions of +life and thought of a writer or a reformer. We learn that Luther had a +hot temper and said such and such things; we learn that Rousseau was +suspicious and wrote such and such books; but we do not learn why +after the Reformation the peoples massacred one another, nor why +during the French Revolution they guillotined one another. + +If we unite both these kinds of history, as is done by the newest +historians, we shall have the history of monarchs and writers, but not +the history of the life of the peoples. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The life of the nations is not contained in the lives of a few +men, for the connection between those men and the nations has not been +found. The theory that this connection is based on the transference of +the collective will of a people to certain historical personages is an +hypothesis unconfirmed by the experience of history. + +The theory of the transference of the collective will of the +people to historic persons may perhaps explain much in the domain of +jurisprudence and be essential for its purposes, but in its +application to history, as soon as revolutions, conquests, or civil +wars occur--that is, as soon as history begins--that theory explains +nothing. + +The theory seems irrefutable just because the act of transference of +the people's will cannot be verified, for it never occurred. + +Whatever happens and whoever may stand at the head of affairs, the +theory can always say that such and such a person took the lead +because the collective will was transferred to him. + +The replies this theory gives to historical questions are like the +replies of a man who, watching the movements of a herd of cattle and +paying no attention to the varying quality of the pasturage in +different parts of the field, or to the driving of the herdsman, +should attribute the direction the herd takes to what animal happens +to be at its head. + +"The herd goes in that direction because the animal in front leads +it and the collective will of all the other animals is vested in +that leader." This is what historians of the first class say--those +who assume the unconditional transference of the people's will. + +"If the animals leading the herd change, this happens because the +collective will of all the animals is transferred from one leader to +another, according to whether the animal is or is not leading them +in the direction selected by the whole herd." Such is the reply +historians who assume that the collective will of the people is +delegated to rulers under conditions which they regard as known. (With +this method of observation it often happens that the observer, +influenced by the direction he himself prefers, regards those as +leaders who, owing to the people's change of direction, are no +longer in front, but on one side, or even in the rear.) + +"If the animals in front are continually changing and the +direction of the whole herd is constantly altered, this is because +in order to follow a given direction the animals transfer their will +to the animals that have attracted our attention, and to study the +movements of the herd we must watch the movements of all the prominent +animals moving on all sides of the herd." So say the third class of +historians who regard all historical persons, from monarchs to +journalists, as the expression of their age. + +The theory of the transference of the will of the people to historic +persons is merely a paraphrase--a restatement of the question in other +words. + +What causes historical events? Power. What is power? Power is the +collective will of the people transferred to one person. Under what +condition is the will of the people delegated to one person? On +condition that that person expresses the will of the whole people. +That is, power is power: in other words, power is a word the meaning +of which we do not understand. + + +If the realm of human knowledge were confined to abstract reasoning, +then having subjected to criticism the explanation of "power" that +juridical science gives us, humanity would conclude that power is +merely a word and has no real existence. But to understand phenomena +man has, besides abstract reasoning, experience by which he verifies +his reflections. And experience tells us that power is not merely a +word but an actually existing phenomenon. + +Not to speak of the fact that no description of the collective +activity of men can do without the conception of power, the +existence of power is proved both by history and by observing +contemporary events. + +Whenever an event occurs a man appears or men appear, by whose +will the event seems to have taken place. Napoleon III issues a decree +and the French go to Mexico. The King of Prussia and Bismarck issue +decrees and an army enters Bohemia. Napoleon I issues a decree and +an army enters Russia. Alexander I gives a command and the French +submit to the Bourbons. Experience shows us that whatever event occurs +it is always related to the will of one or of several men who have +decreed it. + +The historians, in accord with the old habit of acknowledging divine +intervention in human affairs, want to see the cause of events in +the expression of the will of someone endowed with power, but that +supposition is not confirmed either by reason or by experience. + +On the one side reflection shows that the expression of a man's +will--his words--are only part of the general activity expressed in an +event, as for instance in a war or a revolution, and so without +assuming an incomprehensible, supernatural force--a miracle--one +cannot admit that words can be the immediate cause of the movements of +millions of men. On the other hand, even if we admitted that words +could be the cause of events, history shows that the expression of the +will of historical personages does not in most cases produce any +effect, that is to say, their commands are often not executed, and +sometimes the very opposite of what they order occurs. + +Without admitting divine intervention in the affairs of humanity +we cannot regard "power" as the cause of events. + +Power, from the standpoint of experience, is merely the relation +that exists between the expression of someone's will and the execution +of that will by others. + +To explain the conditions of that relationship we must first +establish a conception of the expression of will, referring it to +man and not to the Deity. + +If the Deity issues a command, expresses His will, as ancient +history tells us, the expression of that will is independent of time +and is not caused by anything, for the Divinity is not controlled by +an event. But speaking of commands that are the expression of the will +of men acting in time and in relation to one another, to explain the +connection of commands with events we must restore: (1) the +condition of all that takes place: the continuity of movement in +time both of the events and of the person who commands, and (2) the +inevitability of the connection between the person commanding and +those who execute his command. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Only the expression of the will of the Deity, not dependent on time, +can relate to a whole series of events occurring over a period of +years or centuries, and only the Deity, independent of everything, can +by His sole will determine the direction of humanity's movement; but +man acts in time and himself takes part in what occurs. + +Reinstating the first condition omitted, that of time, we see that +no command can be executed without some preceding order having been +given rendering the execution of the last command possible. + +No command ever appears spontaneously, or itself covers a whole +series of occurrences; but each command follows from another, and +never refers to a whole series of events but always to one moment only +of an event. + +When, for instance, we say that Napoleon ordered armies to go to +war, we combine in one simultaneous expression a whole series of +consecutive commands dependent one on another. Napoleon could not have +commanded an invasion of Russia and never did so. Today he ordered +such and such papers to be written to Vienna, to Berlin, and to +Petersburg; tomorrow such and such decrees and orders to the army, the +fleet, the commissariat, and so on and so on--millions of commands, +which formed a whole series corresponding to a series of events +which brought the French armies into Russia. + +If throughout his reign Napoleon gave commands concerning an +invasion of England and expended on no other undertaking so much +time and effort, and yet during his whole reign never once attempted +to execute that design but undertook an expedition into Russia, with +which country he considered it desirable to be in alliance (a +conviction he repeatedly expressed)--this came about because his +commands did not correspond to the course of events in the first case, +but did so correspond in the latter. + +For an order to be certainly executed, it is necessary that a man +should order what can be executed. But to know what can and what +cannot be executed is impossible, not only in the case of Napoleon's +invasion of Russia in which millions participated, but even in the +simplest event, for in either case millions of obstacles may arise +to prevent its execution. Every order executed is always one of an +immense number unexecuted. All the impossible orders inconsistent with +the course of events remain unexecuted. Only the possible ones get +linked up with a consecutive series of commands corresponding to a +series of events, and are executed. + +Our false conception that an event is caused by a command which +precedes it is due to the fact that when the event has taken place and +out of thousands of others those few commands which were consistent +with that event have been executed, we forget about the others that +were not executed because they could not be. Apart from that, the +chief source of our error in this matter is due to the fact that in +the historical accounts a whole series of innumerable, diverse, and +petty events, such for instance as all those which led the French +armies to Russia, is generalized into one event in accord with the +result produced by that series of events, and corresponding with +this generalization the whole series of commands is also generalized +into a single expression of will. + +We say that Napoleon wished to invade Russia and invaded it. In +reality in all Napoleon's activity we never find anything resembling +an expression of that wish, but find a series of orders, or +expressions of his will, very variously and indefinitely directed. +Amid a long series of unexecuted orders of Napoleon's one series, +for the campaign of 1812, was carried out--not because those orders +differed in any way from the other, unexecuted orders but because they +coincided with the course of events that led the French army into +Russia; just as in stencil work this or that figure comes out not +because the color was laid on from this side or in that way, but +because it was laid on from all sides over the figure cut in the +stencil. + +So that examining the relation in time of the commands to the +events, we find that a command can never be the cause of the event, +but that a certain definite dependence exists between the two. + +To understand in what this dependence consists it is necessary to +reinstate another omitted condition of every command proceeding not +from the Deity but from a man, which is, that the man who gives the +command himself takes part in the event. + +This relation of the commander to those he commands is just what +is called power. This relation consists in the following: + +For common action people always unite in certain combinations, in +which regardless of the difference of the aims set for the common +action, the relation between those taking part in it is always the +same. + +Men uniting in these combinations always assume such relations +toward one another that the larger number take a more direct share, +and the smaller number a less direct share, in the collective action +for which they have combined. + +Of all the combinations in which men unite for collective action one +of the most striking and definite examples is an army. + +Every army is composed of lower grades of the service--the rank +and file--of whom there are always the greatest number; of the next +higher military rank--corporals and noncommissioned officers of whom +there are fewer, and of still-higher officers of whom there are +still fewer, and so on to the highest military command which is +concentrated in one person. + +A military organization may be quite correctly compared to a cone, +of which the base with the largest diameter consists of the rank and +file; the next higher and smaller section of the cone consists of +the next higher grades of the army, and so on to the apex, the point +of which will represent the commander in chief. + +The soldiers, of whom there are the most, form the lower section +of the cone and its base. The soldier himself does the stabbing, +hacking, burning, and pillaging, and always receives orders for +these actions from men above him; he himself never gives an order. The +noncommissioned officers (of whom there are fewer) perform the +action itself less frequently than the soldiers, but they already give +commands. An officer still less often acts directly himself, but +commands still more frequently. A general does nothing but command the +troops, indicates the objective, and hardly ever uses a weapon +himself. The commander in chief never takes direct part in the +action itself, but only gives general orders concerning the movement +of the mass of the troops. A similar relation of people to one another +is seen in every combination of men for common activity--in +agriculture, trade, and every administration. + +And so without particularly analyzing all the contiguous sections of +a cone and of the ranks of an army, or the ranks and positions in +any administrative or public business whatever from the lowest to +the highest, we see a law by which men, to take associated action, +combine in such relations that the more directly they participate in +performing the action the less they can command and the more +numerous they are, while the less their direct participation in the +action itself, the more they command and the fewer of them there +are; rising in this way from the lowest ranks to the man at the top, +who takes the least direct share in the action and directs his +activity chiefly to commanding. + +This relation of the men who command to those they command is what +constitutes the essence of the conception called power. + +Having restored the condition of time under which all events +occur, we find that a command is executed only when it is related to a +corresponding series of events. Restoring the essential condition of +relation between those who command and those who execute, we find that +by the very nature of the case those who command take the smallest +part in the action itself and that their activity is exclusively +directed to commanding. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +When an event is taking place people express their opinions and +wishes about it, and as the event results from the collective activity +of many people, some one of the opinions or wishes expressed is sure +to be fulfilled if but approximately. When one of the opinions +expressed is fulfilled, that opinion gets connected with the event +as a command preceding it. + +Men are hauling a log. Each of them expresses his opinion as to +how and where to haul it. They haul the log away, and it happens +that this is done as one of them said. He ordered it. There we have +command and power in their primary form. The man who worked most +with his hands could not think so much about what he was doing, or +reflect on or command what would result from the common activity; +while the man who commanded more would evidently work less with his +hands on account of his greater verbal activity. + +When some larger concourse of men direct their activity to a common +aim there is a yet sharper division of those who, because their +activity is given to directing and commanding, take less part in the +direct work. + +When a man works alone he always has a certain set of reflections +which as it seems to him directed his past activity, justify his +present activity, and guide him in planning his future actions. Just +the same is done by a concourse of people, allowing those who do not +take a direct part in the activity to devise considerations, +justifications, and surmises concerning their collective activity. + +For reasons known or unknown to us the French began to drown and +kill one another. And corresponding to the event its justification +appears in people's belief that this was necessary for the welfare +of France, for liberty, and for equality. People ceased to kill one +another, and this event was accompanied by its justification in the +necessity for a centralization of power, resistance to Europe, and +so on. Men went from the west to the east killing their fellow men, +and the event was accompanied by phrases about the glory of France, +the baseness of England, and so on. History shows us that these +justifications of the events have no common sense and are all +contradictory, as in the case of killing a man as the result of +recognizing his rights, and the killing of millions in Russia for +the humiliation of England. But these justifications have a very +necessary significance in their own day. + +These justifications release those who produce the events from moral +responsibility. These temporary aims are like the broom fixed in front +of a locomotive to clear the snow from the rails in front: they +clear men's moral responsibilities from their path. + +Without such justification there would be no reply to the simplest +question that presents itself when examining each historical event. +How is it that millions of men commit collective crimes--make war, +commit murder, and so on? + +With the present complex forms of political and social life in +Europe can any event that is not prescribed, decreed, or ordered by +monarchs, ministers, parliaments, or newspapers be imagined? Is +there any collective action which cannot find its justification in +political unity, in patriotism, in the balance of power, or in +civilization? So that every event that occurs inevitably coincides +with some expressed wish and, receiving a justification, presents +itself as the result of the will of one man or of several men. + +In whatever direction a ship moves, the flow of the waves it cuts +will always be noticeable ahead of it. To those on board the ship +the movement of those waves will be the only perceptible motion. + +Only by watching closely moment by moment the movement of that +flow and comparing it with the movement of the ship do we convince +ourselves that every bit of it is occasioned by the forward movement +of the ship, and that we were led into error by the fact that we +ourselves were imperceptibly moving. + +We see the same if we watch moment by moment the movement of +historical characters (that is, re-establish the inevitable +condition of all that occurs--the continuity of movement in time) +and do not lose sight of the essential connection of historical +persons with the masses. + +When the ship moves in one direction there is one and the same +wave ahead of it, when it turns frequently the wave ahead of it also +turns frequently. But wherever it may turn there always will be the +wave anticipating its movement. + +Whatever happens it always appears that just that event was foreseen +and decreed. Wherever the ship may go, the rush of water which neither +directs nor increases its movement foams ahead of it, and at a +distance seems to us not merely to move of itself but to govern the +ship's movement also. + + +Examining only those expressions of the will of historical persons +which, as commands, were related to events, historians have assumed +that the events depended on those commands. But examining the events +themselves and the connection in which the historical persons stood to +the people, we have found that they and their orders were dependent on +events. The incontestable proof of this deduction is that, however +many commands were issued, the event does not take place unless +there are other causes for it, but as soon as an event occurs--be it +what it may--then out of all the continually expressed wishes of +different people some will always be found which by their meaning +and their time of utterance are related as commands to the events. + +Arriving at this conclusion we can reply directly and positively +to these two essential questions of history: + +(1) What is power? + +(2) What force produces the movement of the nations? + +(1) Power is the relation of a given person to other individuals, in +which the more this person expresses opinions, predictions, and +justifications of the collective action that is performed, the less is +his participation in that action. + +(2) The movement of nations is caused not by power, nor by +intellectual activity, nor even by a combination of the two as +historians have supposed, but by the activity of all the people who +participate in the events, and who always combine in such a way that +those taking the largest direct share in the event take on +themselves the least responsibility and vice versa. + +Morally the wielder of power appears to cause the event; +physically it is those who submit to the power. But as the moral +activity is inconceivable without the physical, the cause of the event +is neither in the one nor in the other but in the union of the two. + +Or in other words, the conception of a cause is inapplicable to +the phenomena we are examining. + +In the last analysis we reach the circle of infinity--that final +limit to which in every domain of thought man's reason arrives if it +is not playing with the subject. Electricity produces heat, heat +produces electricity. Atoms attract each other and atoms repel one +another. + +Speaking of the interaction of heat and electricity and of atoms, we +cannot say why this occurs, and we say that it is so because it is +inconceivable otherwise, because it must be so and that it is a law. +The same applies to historical events. Why war and revolution occur we +do not know. We only know that to produce the one or the other action, +people combine in a certain formation in which they all take part, and +we say that this is so because it is unthinkable otherwise, or in +other words that it is a law. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +If history dealt only with external phenomena, the establishment +of this simple and obvious law would suffice and we should have +finished our argument. But the law of history relates to man. A +particle of matter cannot tell us that it does not feel the law of +attraction or repulsion and that that law is untrue, but man, who is +the subject of history, says plainly: I am free and am therefore not +subject to the law. + +The presence of the problem of man's free will, though +unexpressed, is felt at every step of history. + +All seriously thinking historians have involuntarily encountered +this question. All the contradictions and obscurities of history and +the false path historical science has followed are due solely to the +lack of a solution of that question. + +If the will of every man were free, that is, if each man could act +as he pleased, all history would be a series of disconnected +incidents. + +If in a thousand years even one man in a million could act freely, +that is, as he chose, it is evident that one single free act of that +man's in violation of the laws governing human action would destroy +the possibility of the existence of any laws for the whole of +humanity. + +If there be a single law governing the actions of men, free will +cannot exist, for then man's will is subject to that law. + +In this contradiction lies the problem of free will, which from most +ancient times has occupied the best human minds and from most +ancient times has been presented in its whole tremendous significance. + +The problem is that regarding man as a subject of observation from +whatever point of view--theological, historical, ethical, or +philosophic--we find a general law of necessity to which he (like +all that exists) is subject. But regarding him from within ourselves +as what we are conscious of, we feel ourselves to be free. + +This consciousness is a source of self-cognition quite apart from +and independent of reason. Through his reason man observes himself, +but only through consciousness does he know himself. + +Apart from consciousness of self no observation or application of +reason is conceivable. + +To understand, observe, and draw conclusions, man must first of +all be conscious of himself as living. A man is only conscious of +himself as a living being by the fact that he wills, that is, is +conscious of his volition. But his will--which forms the essence of +his life--man recognizes (and can but recognize) as free. + +If, observing himself, man sees that his will is always directed +by one and the same law (whether he observes the necessity of taking +food, using his brain, or anything else) he cannot recognize this +never-varying direction of his will otherwise than as a limitation +of it. Were it not free it could not be limited. A man's will seems to +him to be limited just because he is not conscious of it except as +free. + +You say: I am not free. But I have lifted my hand and let it fall. +Everyone understands that this illogical reply is an irrefutable +demonstration of freedom. + +That reply is the expression of a consciousness that is not +subject to reason. + +If the consciousness of freedom were not a separate and +independent source of self-consciousness it would be subject to +reasoning and to experience, but in fact such subjection does not +exist and is inconceivable. + +A series of experiments and arguments proves to every man that he, +as an object of observation, is subject to certain laws, and man +submits to them and never resists the laws of gravity or +impermeability once he has become acquainted with them. But the same +series of experiments and arguments proves to him that the complete +freedom of which he is conscious in himself is impossible, and that +his every action depends on his organization, his character, and the +motives acting upon him; yet man never submits to the deductions of +these experiments and arguments. Having learned from experiment and +argument that a stone falls downwards, a man indubitably believes this +and always expects the law that he has learned to be fulfilled. + +But learning just as certainly that his will is subject to laws, +he does not and cannot believe this. + +However often experiment and reasoning may show a man that under the +same conditions and with the same character he will do the same +thing as before, yet when under the same conditions and with the +same character he approaches for the thousandth time the action that +always ends in the same way, he feels as certainly convinced as before +the experiment that he can act as he pleases. Every man, savage or +sage, however incontestably reason and experiment may prove to him +that it is impossible to imagine two different courses of action in +precisely the same conditions, feels that without this irrational +conception (which constitutes the essence of freedom) he cannot +imagine life. He feels that however impossible it may be, it is so, +for without this conception of freedom not only would he be unable +to understand life, but he would be unable to live for a single +moment. + +He could not live, because all man's efforts, all his impulses to +life, are only efforts to increase freedom. Wealth and poverty, fame +and obscurity, power and subordination, strength and weakness, +health and disease, culture and ignorance, work and leisure, repletion +and hunger, virtue and vice, are only greater or lesser degrees of +freedom. + +A man having no freedom cannot be conceived of except as deprived of +life. + +If the conception of freedom appears to reason to be a senseless +contradiction like the possibility of performing two actions at one +and the same instant of time, or of an effect without a cause, that +only proves that consciousness is not subject to reason. + +This unshakable, irrefutable consciousness of freedom, +uncontrolled by experiment or argument, recognized by all thinkers and +felt by everyone without exception, this consciousness without which +no conception of man is possible constitutes the other side of the +question. + +Man is the creation of an all-powerful, all-good, and all-seeing +God. What is sin, the conception of which arises from the +consciousness of man's freedom? That is a question for theology. + +The actions of men are subject to general immutable laws expressed +in statistics. What is man's responsibility to society, the conception +of which results from the conception of freedom? That is a question +for jurisprudence. + +Man's actions proceed from his innate character and the motives +acting upon him. What is conscience and the perception of right and +wrong in actions that follows from the consciousness of freedom? +That is a question for ethics. + +Man in connection with the general life of humanity appears +subject to laws which determine that life. But the same man apart from +that connection appears to be free. How should the past life of nations +and of humanity be regarded--as the result of the free, or as the +result of the constrained, activity of man? That is a question for +history. + +Only in our self-confident day of the popularization of +knowledge--thanks to that most powerful engine of ignorance, the +diffusion of printed matter--has the question of the freedom of will +been put on a level on which the question itself cannot exist. In our +time the majority of so-called advanced people--that is, the crowd of +ignoramuses--have taken the work of the naturalists who deal with one +side of the question for a solution of the whole problem. + +They say and write and print that the soul and freedom do not exist, +for the life of man is expressed by muscular movements and muscular +movements are conditioned by the activity of the nerves; the soul +and free will do not exist because at an unknown period of time we +sprang from the apes. They say this, not at all suspecting that +thousands of years ago that same law of necessity which with such +ardor they are now trying to prove by physiology and comparative +zoology was not merely acknowledged by all the religions and all the +thinkers, but has never been denied. They do not see that the role +of the natural sciences in this matter is merely to serve as an +instrument for the illumination of one side of it. For the fact +that, from the point of view of observation, reason and the will are +merely secretions of the brain, and that man following the general law +may have developed from lower animals at some unknown period of +time, only explains from a fresh side the truth admitted thousands +of years ago by all the religious and philosophic theories--that +from the point of view of reason man is subject to the law of +necessity; but it does not advance by a hair's breadth the solution of +the question, which has another, opposite, side, based on the +consciousness of freedom. + +If men descended from the apes at an unknown period of time, that is +as comprehensible as that they were made from a handful of earth at +a certain period of time (in the first case the unknown quantity is +the time, in the second case it is the origin); and the question of +how man's consciousness of freedom is to be reconciled with the law of +necessity to which he is subject cannot be solved by comparative +physiology and zoology, for in a frog, a rabbit, or an ape, we can +observe only the muscular nervous activity, but in man we observe +consciousness as well as the muscular and nervous activity. + +The naturalists and their followers, thinking they can solve this +question, are like plasterers set to plaster one side of the walls +of a church who, availing themselves of the absence of the chief +superintendent of the work, should in an access of zeal plaster over +the windows, icons, woodwork, and still unbuttressed walls, and should +be delighted that from their point of view as plasterers, everything +is now so smooth and regular. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +For the solution of the question of free will or inevitability, +history has this advantage over other branches of knowledge in which +the question is dealt with, that for history this question does not +refer to the essence of man's free will but its manifestation in the +past and under certain conditions. + +In regard to this question, history stands to the other sciences +as experimental science stands to abstract science. + +The subject for history is not man's will itself but our +presentation of it. + +And so for history, the insoluble mystery presented by the +incompatibility of free will and inevitability does not exist as it +does for theology, ethics, and philosophy. History surveys a +presentation of man's life in which the union of these two +contradictions has already taken place. + +In actual life each historic event, each human action, is very clearly +and definitely understood without any sense of contradiction, although +each event presents itself as partly free and partly compulsory. + +To solve the question of how freedom and necessity are combined +and what constitutes the essence of these two conceptions, the +philosophy of history can and should follow a path contrary to that +taken by other sciences. Instead of first defining the conceptions +of freedom and inevitability in themselves, and then ranging the +phenomena of life under those definitions, history should deduce a +definition of the conception of freedom and inevitability themselves +from the immense quantity of phenomena of which it is cognizant and +that always appear dependent on these two elements. + +Whatever presentation of the activity of many men or of an +individual we may consider, we always regard it as the result partly +of man's free will and partly of the law of inevitability. + +Whether we speak of the migration of the peoples and the +incursions of the barbarians, or of the decrees of Napoleon III, or of +someone's action an hour ago in choosing one direction out of +several for his walk, we are unconscious of any contradiction. The +degree of freedom and inevitability governing the actions of these +people is clearly defined for us. + +Our conception of the degree of freedom often varies according to +differences in the point of view from which we regard the event, but +every human action appears to us as a certain combination of freedom +and inevitability. In every action we examine we see a certain measure +of freedom and a certain measure of inevitability. And always the more +freedom we see in any action the less inevitability do we perceive, +and the more inevitability the less freedom. + +The proportion of freedom to inevitability decreases and increases +according to the point of view from which the action is regarded, +but their relation is always one of inverse proportion. + +A sinking man who clutches at another and drowns him; or a hungry +mother exhausted by feeding her baby, who steals some food; or a man +trained to discipline who on duty at the word of command kills a +defenseless man--seem less guilty, that is, less free and more subject +to the law of necessity, to one who knows the circumstances in which +these people were placed, and more free to one who does not know +that the man was himself drowning, that the mother was hungry, that +the soldier was in the ranks, and so on. Similarly a man who committed +a murder twenty years ago and has since lived peaceably and harmlessly +in society seems less guilty and his action more due to the law of +inevitability, to someone who considers his action after twenty +years have elapsed than to one who examined it the day after it was +committed. And in the same way every action of an insane, intoxicated, +or highly excited man appears less free and more inevitable to one who +knows the mental condition of him who committed the action, and +seems more free and less inevitable to one who does not know it. In +all these cases the conception of freedom is increased or diminished +and the conception of compulsion is correspondingly decreased or +increased, according to the point of view from which the action is +regarded. So that the greater the conception of necessity the +smaller the conception of freedom and vice versa. + +Religion, the common sense of mankind, the science of jurisprudence, +and history itself understand alike this relation between necessity +and freedom. + +All cases without exception in which our conception of freedom and +necessity is increased and diminished depend on three considerations: + +(1) The relation to the external world of the man who commits the +deeds. + +(2) His relation to time. + +(3) His relation to the causes leading to the action. + +The first consideration is the clearness of our perception of the +man's relation to the external world and the greater or lesser +clearness of our understanding of the definite position occupied by +the man in relation to everything coexisting with him. This is what +makes it evident that a drowning man is less free and more subject +to necessity than one standing on dry ground, and that makes the +actions of a man closely connected with others in a thickly +populated district, or of one bound by family, official, or business +duties, seem certainly less free and more subject to necessity than +those of a man living in solitude and seclusion. + +If we consider a man alone, apart from his relation to everything +around him, each action of his seems to us free. But if we see his +relation to anything around him, if we see his connection with +anything whatever--with a man who speaks to him, a book he reads, +the work on which he is engaged, even with the air he breathes or +the light that falls on the things about him--we see that each of +these circumstances has an influence on him and controls at least some +side of his activity. And the more we perceive of these influences the +more our conception of his freedom diminishes and the more our +conception of the necessity that weighs on him increases. + +The second consideration is the more or less evident time relation +of the man to the world and the clearness of our perception of the +place the man's action occupies in time. That is the ground which +makes the fall of the first man, resulting in the production of the +human race, appear evidently less free than a man's entry into +marriage today. It is the reason why the life and activity of people +who lived centuries ago and are connected with me in time cannot +seem to me as free as the life of a contemporary, the consequences +of which are still unknown to me. + +The degree of our conception of freedom or inevitability depends +in this respect on the greater or lesser lapse of time between the +performance of the action and our judgment of it. + +If I examine an act I performed a moment ago in approximately the same +circumstances as those I am in now, my action appears to me +undoubtedly free. But if I examine an act performed a month ago, then +being in different circumstances, I cannot help recognizing that if +that act had not been committed much that resulted from it--good, +agreeable, and even essential--would not have taken place. If I +reflect on an action still more remote, ten years ago or more, then +the consequences of my action are still plainer to me and I find it +hard to imagine what would have happened had that action not been +performed. The farther I go back in memory, or what is the same thing +the farther I go forward in my judgment, the more doubtful becomes my +belief in the freedom of my action. + +In history we find a very similar progress of conviction +concerning the part played by free will in the general affairs of +humanity. A contemporary event seems to us to be indubitably the doing +of all the known participants, but with a more remote event we already +see its inevitable results which prevent our considering anything else +possible. And the farther we go back in examining events the less +arbitrary do they appear. + +The Austro-Prussian war appears to us undoubtedly the result of +the crafty conduct of Bismarck, and so on. The Napoleonic wars still +seem to us, though already questionably, to be the outcome of their +heroes' will. But in the Crusades we already see an event occupying +its definite place in history and without which we cannot imagine +the modern history of Europe, though to the chroniclers of the +Crusades that event appeared as merely due to the will of certain +people. In regard to the migration of the peoples it does not enter +anyone's head today to suppose that the renovation of the European +world depended on Attila's caprice. The farther back in history the +object of our observation lies, the more doubtful does the free will +of those concerned in the event become and the more manifest the law +of inevitability. + +The third consideration is the degree to which we apprehend that +endless chain of causation inevitably demanded by reason, in which +each phenomenon comprehended, and therefore man's every action, must +have its definite place as a result of what has gone before and as a +cause of what will follow. + +The better we are acquainted with the physiological, +psychological, and historical laws deduced by observation and by which +man is controlled, and the more correctly we perceive the +physiological, psychological, and historical causes of the action, and +the simpler the action we are observing and the less complex the +character and mind of the man in question, the more subject to +inevitability and the less free do our actions and those of others +appear. + +When we do not at all understand the cause of an action, whether a +crime, a good action, or even one that is simply nonmoral, we +ascribe a greater amount of freedom to it. In the case of a crime we +most urgently demand the punishment for such an act; in the case of +a virtuous act we rate its merit most highly. In an indifferent case +we recognize in it more individuality, originality, and +independence. But if even one of the innumerable causes of the act +is known to us we recognize a certain element of necessity and are +less insistent on punishment for the crime, or the acknowledgment of +the merit of the virtuous act, or the freedom of the apparently +original action. That a criminal was reared among male factors +mitigates his fault in our eyes. The self-sacrifice of a father or +mother, or self-sacrifice with the possibility of a reward, is more +comprehensible than gratuitous self-sacrifice, and therefore seems +less deserving of sympathy and less the result of free will. The +founder of a sect or party, or an inventor, impresses us less when +we know how or by what the way was prepared for his activity. If we +have a large range of examples, if our observation is constantly +directed to seeking the correlation of cause and effect in people's +actions, their actions appear to us more under compulsion and less +free the more correctly we connect the effects with the causes. If +we examined simple actions and had a vast number of such actions under +observation, our conception of their inevitability would be still +greater. The dishonest conduct of the son of a dishonest father, the +misconduct of a woman who had fallen into bad company, a drunkard's +relapse into drunkenness, and so on are actions that seem to us less +free the better we understand their cause. If the man whose actions we +are considering is on a very low stage of mental development, like a +child, a madman, or a simpleton--then, knowing the causes of the act +and the simplicity of the character and intelligence in question, we +see so large an element of necessity and so little free will that as +soon as we know the cause prompting the action we can foretell the +result. + +On these three considerations alone is based the conception of +irresponsibility for crimes and the extenuating circumstances admitted +by all legislative codes. The responsibility appears greater or less +according to our greater or lesser knowledge of the circumstances in +which the man was placed whose action is being judged, and according +to the greater or lesser interval of time between the commission of +the action and its investigation, and according to the greater or +lesser understanding of the causes that led to the action. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Thus our conception of free will and inevitability gradually +diminishes or increases according to the greater or lesser +connection with the external world, the greater or lesser remoteness +of time, and the greater or lesser dependence on the causes in +relation to which we contemplate a man's life. + +So that if we examine the case of a man whose connection with the +external world is well known, where the time between the action and +its examination is great, and where the causes of the action are +most accessible, we get the conception of a maximum of inevitability +and a minimum of free will. If we examine a man little dependent on +external conditions, whose action was performed very recently, and the +causes of whose action are beyond our ken, we get the conception of +a minimum of inevitability and a maximum of freedom. + +In neither case--however we may change our point of view, however +plain we may make to ourselves the connection between the man and the +external world, however inaccessible it may be to us, however long or +short the period of time, however intelligible or incomprehensible the +causes of the action may be--can we ever conceive either complete +freedom or complete necessity. + +(1) To whatever degree we may imagine a man to be exempt from the +influence of the external world, we never get a conception of +freedom in space. Every human action is inevitably conditioned by what +surrounds him and by his own body. I lift my arm and let it fall. My +action seems to me free; but asking myself whether I could raise my +arm in every direction, I see that I raised it in the direction in +which there was least obstruction to that action either from things +around me or from the construction of my own body. I chose one out +of all the possible directions because in it there were fewest +obstacles. For my action to be free it was necessary that it should +encounter no obstacles. To conceive of a man being free we must +imagine him outside space, which is evidently impossible. + +(2) However much we approximate the time of judgment to the time +of the deed, we never get a conception of freedom in time. For if I +examine an action committed a second ago I must still recognize it +as not being free, for it is irrevocably linked to the moment at which +it was committed. Can I lift my arm? I lift it, but ask myself: +could I have abstained from lifting my arm at the moment that has +already passed? To convince myself of this I do not lift it the next +moment. But I am not now abstaining from doing so at the first +moment when I asked the question. Time has gone by which I could not +detain, the arm I then lifted is no longer the same as the arm I now +refrain from lifting, nor is the air in which I lifted it the same +that now surrounds me. The moment in which the first movement was made +is irrevocable, and at that moment I could make only one movement, and +whatever movement I made would be the only one. That I did not lift my +arm a moment later does not prove that I could have abstained from +lifting it then. And since I could make only one movement at that +single moment of time, it could not have been any other. To imagine it +as free, it is necessary to imagine it in the present, on the boundary +between the past and the future--that is, outside time, which is +impossible. + +(3) However much the difficulty of understanding the causes may be +increased, we never reach a conception of complete freedom, that is, +an absence of cause. However inaccessible to us may be the cause of +the expression of will in any action, our own or another's, the +first demand of reason is the assumption of and search for a cause, +for without a cause no phenomenon is conceivable. I raise my arm to +perform an action independently of any cause, but my wish to perform +an action without a cause is the cause of my action. + +But even if--imagining a man quite exempt from all influences, +examining only his momentary action in the present, unevoked by any +cause--we were to admit so infinitely small a remainder of +inevitability as equaled zero, we should even then not have arrived at +the conception of complete freedom in man, for a being uninfluenced by +the external world, standing outside of time and independent of cause, +is no longer a man. + +In the same way we can never imagine the action of a man quite +devoid of freedom and entirely subject to the law of inevitability. + +(1) However we may increase our knowledge of the conditions of space +in which man is situated, that knowledge can never be complete, for +the number of those conditions is as infinite as the infinity of +space. And therefore so long as not all the conditions influencing men +are defined, there is no complete inevitability but a certain +measure of freedom remains. + +(2) However we may prolong the period of time between the action +we are examining and the judgment upon it, that period will be finite, +while time is infinite, and so in this respect too there can never +be absolute inevitability. + +(3) However accessible may be the chain of causation of any +action, we shall never know the whole chain since it is endless, and +so again we never reach absolute inevitability. + +But besides this, even if, admitting the remaining minimum of +freedom to equal zero, we assumed in some given case--as for +instance in that of a dying man, an unborn babe, or an idiot--complete +absence of freedom, by so doing we should destroy the very +conception of man in the case we are examining, for as soon as there +is no freedom there is also no man. And so the conception of the +action of a man subject solely to the law of inevitability without any +element of freedom is just as impossible as the conception of a +man's completely free action. + +And so to imagine the action of a man entirely subject to the law of +inevitability without any freedom, we must assume the knowledge of +an infinite number of space relations, an infinitely long period of +time, and an infinite series of causes. + +To imagine a man perfectly free and not subject to the law of +inevitability, we must imagine him all alone, beyond space, beyond +time, and free from dependence on cause. + +In the first case, if inevitability were possible without freedom we +should have reached a definition of inevitability by the laws of +inevitability itself, that is, a mere form without content. + +In the second case, if freedom were possible without inevitability +we should have arrived at unconditioned freedom beyond space, time, +and cause, which by the fact of its being unconditioned and +unlimited would be nothing, or mere content without form. + +We should in fact have reached those two fundamentals of which man's +whole outlook on the universe is constructed--the incomprehensible +essence of life, and the laws defining that essence. + +Reason says: (1) space with all the forms of matter that give it +visibility is infinite, and cannot be imagined otherwise. (2) Time +is infinite motion without a moment of rest and is unthinkable +otherwise. (3) The connection between cause and effect has no +beginning and can have no end. + +Consciousness says: (1) I alone am, and all that exists is but me, +consequently I include space. (2) I measure flowing time by the +fixed moment of the present in which alone I am conscious of myself as +living, consequently I am outside time. (3) I am beyond cause, for I +feel myself to be the cause of every manifestation of my life. + +Reason gives expression to the laws of inevitability. +Consciousness gives expression to the essence of freedom. + +Freedom not limited by anything is the essence of life, in man's +consciousness. Inevitability without content is man's reason in its +three forms. + +Freedom is the thing examined. Inevitability is what examines. +Freedom is the content. Inevitability is the form. + +Only by separating the two sources of cognition, related to one +another as form to content, do we get the mutually exclusive and +separately incomprehensible conceptions of freedom and inevitability. + +Only by uniting them do we get a clear conception of man's life. + +Apart from these two concepts which in their union mutually define +one another as form and content, no conception of life is possible. + +All that we know of the life of man is merely a certain relation +of free will to inevitability, that is, of consciousness to the laws +of reason. + +All that we know of the external world of nature is only a certain +relation of the forces of nature to inevitability, or of the essence +of life to the laws of reason. + +The great natural forces lie outside us and we are not conscious +of them; we call those forces gravitation, inertia, electricity, +animal force, and so on, but we are conscious of the force of life +in man and we call that freedom. + +But just as the force of gravitation, incomprehensible in itself but +felt by every man, is understood by us only to the extent to which +we know the laws of inevitability to which it is subject (from the +first knowledge that all bodies have weight, up to Newton's law), so +too the force of free will, incomprehensible in itself but of which +everyone is conscious, is intelligible to us only in as far as we know +the laws of inevitability to which it is subject (from the fact that +every man dies, up to the knowledge of the most complex economic and +historic laws). + +All knowledge is merely a bringing of this essence of life under the +laws of reason. + +Man's free will differs from every other force in that man is +directly conscious of it, but in the eyes of reason it in no way +differs from any other force. The forces of gravitation, +electricity, or chemical affinity are only distinguished from one +another in that they are differently defined by reason. Just so the +force of man's free will is distinguished by reason from the other +forces of nature only by the definition reason gives it. Freedom, +apart from necessity, that is, apart from the laws of reason that +define it, differs in no way from gravitation, or heat, or the force +that makes things grow; for reason, it is only a momentary undefinable +sensation of life. + +And as the undefinable essence of the force moving the heavenly +bodies, the undefinable essence of the forces of heat and electricity, +or of chemical affinity, or of the vital force, forms the content of +astronomy, physics, chemistry, botany, zoology, and so on, just in the +same way does the force of free will form the content of history. +But just as the subject of every science is the manifestation of +this unknown essence of life while that essence itself can only be the +subject of metaphysics, even the manifestation of the force of free +will in human beings in space, in time, and in dependence on cause +forms the subject of history, while free will itself is the subject of +metaphysics. + +In the experimental sciences what we know we call the laws of +inevitability, what is unknown to us we call vital force. Vital +force is only an expression for the unknown remainder over and above +what we know of the essence of life. + +So also in history what is known to us we call laws of +inevitability, what is unknown we call free will. Free will is for +history only an expression for the unknown remainder of what we know +about the laws of human life. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +History examines the manifestations of man's free will in connection +with the external world in time and in dependence on cause, that is, +it defines this freedom by the laws of reason, and so history is a +science only in so far as this free will is defined by those laws. + +The recognition of man's free will as something capable of +influencing historical events, that is, as not subject to laws, is the +same for history as the recognition of a free force moving the +heavenly bodies would be for astronomy. + +That assumption would destroy the possibility of the existence of +laws, that is, of any science whatever. If there is even a single body +moving freely, then the laws of Kepler and Newton are negatived and no +conception of the movement of the heavenly bodies any longer exists. +If any single action is due to free will, then not a single historical +law can exist, nor any conception of historical events. + +For history, lines exist of the movement of human wills, one end +of which is hidden in the unknown but at the other end of which a +consciousness of man's will in the present moves in space, time, and +dependence on cause. + +The more this field of motion spreads out before our eyes, the +more evident are the laws of that movement. To discover and define +those laws is the problem of history. + +From the standpoint from which the science of history now regards +its subject on the path it now follows, seeking the causes of events +in man's freewill, a scientific enunciation of those laws is +impossible, for however man's free will may be restricted, as soon +as we recognize it as a force not subject to law, the existence of law +becomes impossible. + +Only by reducing this element of free will to the infinitesimal, +that is, by regarding it as an infinitely small quantity, can we +convince ourselves of the absolute inaccessibility of the causes, +and then instead of seeking causes, history will take the discovery of +laws as its problem. + +The search for these laws has long been begun and the new methods of +thought which history must adopt are being worked out simultaneously +with the self-destruction toward which--ever dissecting and dissecting +the causes of phenomena--the old method of history is moving. + +All human sciences have traveled along that path. Arriving at +infinitesimals, mathematics, the most exact of sciences, abandons +the process of analysis and enters on the new process of the +integration of unknown, infinitely small, quantities. Abandoning the +conception of cause, mathematics seeks law, that is, the property +common to all unknown, infinitely small, elements. + +In another form but along the same path of reflection the other +sciences have proceeded. When Newton enunciated the law of gravity +he did not say that the sun or the earth had a property of attraction; +he said that all bodies from the largest to the smallest have the +property of attracting one another, that is, leaving aside the +question of the cause of the movement of the bodies, he expressed +the property common to all bodies from the infinitely large to the +infinitely small. The same is done by the natural sciences: leaving +aside the question of cause, they seek for laws. History stands on the +same path. And if history has for its object the study of the movement +of the nations and of humanity and not the narration of episodes in +the lives of individuals, it too, setting aside the conception of +cause, should seek the laws common to all the inseparably +interconnected infinitesimal elements of free will. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +From the time the law of Copernicus was discovered and proved, the +mere recognition of the fact that it was not the sun but the earth +that moves sufficed to destroy the whole cosmography of the +ancients. By disproving that law it might have been possible to retain +the old conception of the movements of the bodies, but without +disproving it, it would seem impossible to continue studying the +Ptolemaic worlds. But even after the discovery of the law of +Copernicus the Ptolemaic worlds were still studied for a long time. + +From the time the first person said and proved that the number of +births or of crimes is subject to mathematical laws, and that this +or that mode of government is determined by certain geographical and +economic conditions, and that certain relations of population to +soil produce migrations of peoples, the foundations on which history +had been built were destroyed in their essence. + +By refuting these new laws the former view of history might have +been retained; but without refuting them it would seem impossible to +continue studying historic events as the results of man's free will. +For if a certain mode of government was established or certain +migrations of peoples took place in consequence of such and such +geographic, ethnographic, or economic conditions, then the free will +of those individuals who appear to us to have established that mode of +government or occasioned the migrations can no longer be regarded as +the cause. + +And yet the former history continues to be studied side by side with +the laws of statistics, geography, political economy, comparative +philology, and geology, which directly contradict its assumptions. + +The struggle between the old views and the new was long and +stubbornly fought out in physical philosophy. Theology stood on +guard for the old views and accused the new of violating revelation. +But when truth conquered, theology established itself just as firmly +on the new foundation. + +Just as prolonged and stubborn is the struggle now proceeding +between the old and the new conception of history, and theology in the +same way stands on guard for the old view, and accuses the new view of +subverting revelation. + +In the one case as in the other, on both sides the struggle provokes +passion and stifles truth. On the one hand there is fear and regret +for the loss of the whole edifice constructed through the ages, on the +other is the passion for destruction. + +To the men who fought against the rising truths of physical +philosophy, it seemed that if they admitted that truth it would +destroy faith in God, in the creation of the firmament, and in the +miracle of Joshua the son of Nun. To the defenders of the laws of +Copernicus and Newton, to Voltaire for example, it seemed that the +laws of astronomy destroyed religion, and he utilized the law of +gravitation as a weapon against religion. + +Just so it now seems as if we have only to admit the law of +inevitability, to destroy the conception of the soul, of good and +evil, and all the institutions of state and church that have been +built up on those conceptions. + +So too, like Voltaire in his time, uninvited defenders of the law of +inevitability today use that law as a weapon against religion, +though the law of inevitability in history, like the law of Copernicus +in astronomy, far from destroying, even strengthens the foundation +on which the institutions of state and church are erected. + +As in the question of astronomy then, so in the question of +history now, the whole difference of opinion is based on the +recognition or nonrecognition of something absolute, serving as the +measure of visible phenomena. In astronomy it was the immovability +of the earth, in history it is the independence of personality--free +will. + +As with astronomy the difficulty of recognizing the motion of the +earth lay in abandoning the immediate sensation of the earth's +fixity and of the motion of the planets, so in history the +difficulty of recognizing the subjection of personality to the laws of +space, time, and cause lies in renouncing the direct feeling of the +independence of one's own personality. But as in astronomy the new +view said: "It is true that we do not feel the movement of the +earth, but by admitting its immobility we arrive at absurdity, while +by admitting its motion (which we do not feel) we arrive at laws," +so also in history the new view says: "It is true that we are not +conscious of our dependence, but by admitting our free will we +arrive at absurdity, while by admitting our dependence on the external +world, on time, and on cause, we arrive at laws." + +In the first case it was necessary to renounce the consciousness +of an unreal immobility in space and to recognize a motion we did +not feel; in the present case it is similarly necessary to renounce +a freedom that does not exist, and to recognize a dependence of +which we are not conscious. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, WAR AND PEACE *** + +This file should be named wrnpc12.txt or wrnpc12.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, wrnpc13.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, wrnpc11a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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And it's almost impossible to find in the US, so I'm posting it here. + + It was the first Ile-Rien book, before I knew there were going to be any other Ile-Rien books. Since then Vienne, altered by time, war, and general rough usage, has been a setting for The Death of the Necromancer (nominated for the Nebula Award in 1998 and also becoming impossible to find in the US) and The Wizard Hunters, The Ships of Air, and The Gate of Gods, available in paperback from HarperCollins. Kade Carrion also appears in the short story "The Potter's Daughter" in the anthology Elemental, edited by Steve Savile and Alethea Kontis, published in 2006 by Tor Books. + + The text posted here does not match the original US edition; I've edited it to make the prose a little smoother and more in line with my current style, but haven't made any substantial changes to plot, storyline, characterization, or anything else. + + + + The Element of Fire + + by Martha Wells + + And New Philosophy calls all in doubt, + + The Element of fire is quite put out; + + The Sun is lost, and th'earth, and no man's wit + + Can well direct him where to looke for it. + + -John Donne + + "An Anatomie of the World" + + Chapter One + + THE GRAPPLING HOOK skittered across the rain-slick stone of the ledge before dropping to catch in the grillwork below the third-story window. Berham leaned back on the rope to test it. "That's it, Captain Sir. Tight as may be," the servant whispered. + + "Well done," Thomas Boniface told him. He stepped back from the wall and looked down the alley. "Now where in hell is Dr. Braun?" + + "He's coming," Gideon Townsend, Thomas's lieutenant, said as he made his way toward them out of the heavy shadows. Reaching them, he glanced up at the full moon, stark white against the backdrop of wind-driven rain clouds, and muttered, "Not the best night for this work." The three men stood in the muddy alley, the dark brocades and soft wools of their doublets and breeches blending into the grimy stones and shadow, moonlight catching only the pale lace at the wrists or shirt collars of Thomas and his lieutenant, the glint of an earring, or the cold metal sheen on rapiers and wheellock pistol barrels. It was a cool night and they were surrounded by failed counting houses and the crumbling elegance of the decaying once-wealthy homes of the River Quarter. + + Thomas personally couldn't think of a good time to forcibly invade a foreign sorcerer's house. "The point of it is to go and be killed where you're told," he said. "Is everyone in position?" + + "Martin and Castero are up on the tannery roof, watching the street and the other alley. I put Gaspard and two others at the back of the house and left the servants to watch the horses. The rest are across the street, waiting for the signal," Gideon answered, his blue eyes deceptively guileless. "We're all quite ready to go and be killed where we're told." + + "Good," Thomas said. He knew Gideon was still young enough to see this as a challenge, to care nothing for the political reality that sent them on a mission as deadly as this with so little support. Glancing down the alley again, he saw Dr. Braun was finally coming, creeping along the wall and uncomfortably holding his velvet-trimmed scholar's robes out of the stinking mud. "Well?" Thomas asked as the sorcerer came within earshot. "What have you done?" + + "I've countered the wards on the doors and windows, but the inside... This person Grandier is either very strong or very subtle. I can't divine what protections he's used." The young sorcerer looked up at him, his watery eyes blinking fitfully. His long sandy hair and drooping mustache made him look like a sad-faced spaniel. + + "You can't give us any hint of what we're to find in there?" Thomas said, thinking, This would have been better done if I hadn't been saddled with a sorcerer who has obviously escaped from a market-day farce. + + Braun's expression was both distressed and obstinate. "He is too strong, or... He might have the help of some creature of the Fay." + + "God protect us," Berham muttered, and uneasily studied the cloudy darkness above. The others ignored him. Berham was short, rotund, and had been wounded three times manning barricades in the last Bisran War. He claimed that the only reason he had left the army was that servants' wages were better. Despite the little man's vocal quavering, Thomas was not worried about his courage. + + "What are you saying?" Gideon asked the sorcerer. "You mean we could fall down dead or burst into flame the moment we cross the threshold?" + + "The uninitiated so often have ill-conceived ideas about these matters, like the fools who believe sorcerers change their shapes or fly like the fay. It would be exceedingly dangerous to create heat or cold out of nothing..." + + "So you say, but..." + + "That's enough," Thomas interrupted. He took the rope and tested it again with his own weight. The first floor of the house would be given over to stables, storage for coaches or wagons, and servants' quarters. The second would hold salons and other rooms for entertaining guests, and the third and fourth would be the owner's private quarters. That would be where the sorcerer would keep his laboratory, and very likely his prisoner. Thomas only hoped the information from the King's Watch was correct and that the Bisran bastard Grandier wasn't here. He told Gideon, "You follow me. Unless, of course, you'd like to go first?" + + The lieutenant swept off his feathered hat and bowed extravagantly. "Oh, not at all, Sir, after you." + + "So kind, Sir." + + The brickwork was rough and Thomas found footholds easily. He reached the window and pulled himself up on the rusted grating, balancing cautiously. He felt the rope jerk and tighten as Gideon started to climb. + + The window was set with small panes of leaded glass and divided into four tall panels. Thomas drew a thin dagger from the sheath in his boot and slipped the point between the wooden frames of the lower half. Working the dagger gently, he eased the inside catch up. The panels opened inward with only a faint creak. Moonlight touched the polished surface of a table set directly in front of the window, but the darkness of the deeper interior of the room was impenetrable. It was silent, but it was a peculiar waiting silence that he disliked. + + Then the window ledge cracked loudly under his boots and he took a hasty step forward onto the table, thinking, Now we'll know, at any rate. Dust rose from the heavy draperies as he brushed against them, but the room remained quiet. + + "Was that wise?" Gideon asked softly from below the windowsill. + + "Possibly not. Don't come up yet." Thomas slipped the dagger back into his boot sheath and drew his rapier. If something came at him out of that darkness, he preferred to keep it at as great a distance as possible. "Tell Berham to hand up a light." + + There was some soft cursing below as a dark lantern, its front covered by a metal slide to keep the light dimmed, was lit and passed upward. Thomas waited impatiently, feeling the darkness press in on him like a solid wall. He would have preferred the presence of another sorcerer besides Braun, the rest of the Queen's Guard, and a conscripted city troop to quell any possibility of riot when the restive River Quarter neighborhood discovered it had a mad foreign sorcerer in its midst. But orders were orders, and if Queen's guards or their captain were killed while entering Grandier's house secretly, then at least civil unrest was prevented. An inspired intrigue, Thomas had to admit, even if he was the one it was meant to eliminate. + + As he reached down to take the shuttered lamp from Gideon, something moved in the corner of his eye. Thomas dropped the lamp onto the table and studied the darkness, trying to decide if the hesitant motion was actually there or in his imagination. + + The flicker of light escaping from the edges of the lamp's iron cover touched the room with moving shadows. With the toe of his boot Thomas knocked the lantern slide up. + + The wan candlelight was reflected from a dozen points around the unoccupied room, from lacquered cabinets, the gilt leather of a chair, the metallic threads in brocaded satin hangings. + + Then the wooden cherub supporting the right-hand corner of the table Thomas was standing on turned its head. + + He took an involuntary step backward. + + "Captain, what is it?" Gideon's whisper was harsh. + + Thomas didn't answer. He was looking around the room as the faces in the floral carving over the chimneypiece shifted their blank white eyes, their tiny mouths working silently. The bronze snake twined around the supporting pole of a candlestand stirred sluggishly. In the woolen carpet the interwoven pattern of vines writhed. + + Keeping hold of the rope, Gideon chinned himself on the window ledge to see in. He cursed softly. + + "Worse than I thought," Thomas agreed, not looking away from the hideously animate room. Unblinking eyes of marbleized wood stared sightlessly, limbs and mouths moved without sound. Can they see? Or hear? he wondered grimly. Most likely they can. He doubted they were here only to frighten intruders, however effective they might be at it. + + "We should burn this house to the ground," Gideon whispered. + + "We want to get Dubell out alive, not scrape his ashes out of the wreckage." + + "How?" + + Good question, Thomas thought. The vines in the carpet were lifting themselves above the surface of the floor like the tentacles of a sea beast. They were as thick around as a man's wrist and looked strong, and metallic glints that had been gilt threads in the weaving were growing into knife-edged thorns. It was only going to get more difficult. Thomas caught up the lantern and stepped down into a chair with arms shaped into gilded lampreys. They were struggling viciously but were unable to turn their heads back far enough to reach him. From there he stepped down to the hardwood floor and backed toward the doorway. + + Gideon made a move to climb into the window but the viselike tentacles were reaching up above waist-height and groping along the edge of the table. Thomas said, "No, stay back." + + At the sound of his voice the vines whipped around and stretched out for him, growing prodigiously longer in a sudden bound, and Thomas threw himself at the door. + + The latch was weak and snapped as his weight struck it. He stumbled through and caught himself, just as something thudded into the dark paneled wall in front of him. He dropped the lantern and dove sideways, scrambling for cover between two brocaded chairs and the fireplace. + + Embedded in the wall, still quivering, was a short metal arrow; if he had come through the doorway cautiously it would have struck his chest. The lion heads on the iron firedogs snapped ineffectually at him as he pushed himself further behind the chairs, thinking, Where the hell is he? The sputtering candle sent shadows chasing across crowded furniture and everything was moving. Then in the far corner he saw the life-sized statue of a Parscen archer. Naked to the waist and balancing a candleholder on his turbaned head, he was drawing a second arrow out of the bronze quiver at his side and putting it to his short bow. + + Rolling onto his back to make himself a smaller target, Thomas dropped the rapier and drew one of his wheellocks. He'd loaded both pistols down in the alley, and now as he wound up the mainspring, an arrow thudded into the over-stuffed chair seat. The other chair began to edge sideways using the clawed feet at the ends of its splayed legs; without thinking Thomas muttered, "Stop that." He set the spring, braced the pistol on his forearm and fired. + + The plaster statue shattered in the deafening impact. The shot scarred the wall behind it and filled the room with the stink of gunpowder. + + Thomas got to his feet, tucking away the empty pistol and picking up his rapier. Now the whole damned house knows I'm here. He hadn't planned to do this alone either, but the vines filling up the first room and curling round the doorway into this one committed him to it. + + Avoiding the animate furniture, he went to the door in the opposite wall and tried the handle. It was unlocked, and he eased it open carefully. The room within was dark, but the archway beyond revealed a chamber lit by a dozen or so red glass candelabra. + + Thomas pulled the door closed behind him and moved forward. The dim light revealed stealthy movement in the carvings on the fireplace mantel and along the bordered paneling. In the more brightly lit chamber beyond the arch, he could see an open door looking out onto the main stairwell. + + He stopped just before the fall of light from the next room would have revealed his presence. There was something... Then he heard the creak of leather and a harsh rasp of breath. It came from just beyond his range of sight, past the left side of the arch. They knew Grandier had hired men to guard the house; it was the only way the King's Watch had been able to trace the sorcerer, since there was no one in the city who could identify him. The man in the next room must have heard the shot; possibly he was waiting for the protective spells to dispose of any intruders. Thomas had planned on something to distract the sorcerer's human watchdogs, to send them down to the lower part of the house, if Gideon would just get on with it... + + From somewhere below there was a muffled thump, and the floorboards trembled under his feet. Thomas smiled to himself; shouts and running footsteps sounded from the stairs as the hired swords hastened for the front door. In theory, he wasn't disobeying the King's orders to keep the raid on Grandier's house secret. Placed correctly, a small charge of gunpowder could blow a wooden door to pieces while making little noise, and the houses to either side of Grandier's were empty anyway. + + The waiting guard did not take the bait with the others, but went forward to stand at the doorway into the stairwell, his rapier drawn. He was big, with greasy blond hair tied back from his face, and dressed in a dun-colored doublet. Thomas had already decided to kill him and had started forward when the man turned and saw him. + + The hired sword's shout was muffled by the clatter of his comrades on the stairs and he rushed forward without waiting for help. Thomas parried two wild blows, then beat his opponent's sword aside and lunged for the kill. The man jerked away and took the point between the ribs instead of under the breastbone, dropping his weapon and staggering back. Cursing his own sloppiness, Thomas leapt after him, grappling with him and trying to drive his main gauche up under the man's chin. In another moment Thomas was easing the limp body to the floor. There was blood pooling on the rug and on his boots, but hopefully the others were occupied below and there was no one left to follow his trail. + + He glanced quickly around the room and noted it was free of the sorcerous animation. There was a closed door on the opposite wall, and it bore examining before he ventured out onto the main stairs. + + As Thomas was reaching for the handle, he felt a sharp stab of unease. He stepped back, his hand tightening on his sword-hilt, baffled by his own reaction. It was only a door, as the others had been. He reached out slowly and felt his heart pound faster with anxiety as his hand neared the knob. + + Either I've gone mad, he thought, or this door is warded. Testing it with his own reactions, he found the ward began about a foot from the door and stretched out to completely cover the surface. It was a warning, with a relatively mild effect, more than likely meant to keep the hired swords and servants away from this portion of the house. It could also explain why the dead man hadn't left his post to investigate the pistol shot or to follow his comrades to the front entrance. He had been guarding something of crucial importance. + + Thomas stepped back and kicked the center panel, sending the door crashing open. Beyond was a staircase leading upward, softly lit by candlelight glowing down from the floor above. + + Bracing himself, Thomas stepped through the ward and onto the first step, and had to steady himself against the wall as the effect faded. He shook his head and started up the stairs. + + The banister was carved with roses which swayed under a sorcerous breeze only they could sense. Thomas climbed slowly, looking for the next trap. When he stopped at the first landing, he could see that the top of the stairs opened into a long gallery, lit by dozens of candles in mirror-backed sconces. Red draperies framed mythological paintings and classical landscapes. At the far end was a door, guarded on either side by a man-sized statuary niche. One niche held an angel with flowing locks, wings, and a beatific smile. The other niche was empty. + + Thomas climbed almost to the head of the stairs, looking up at the archway that was the entrance to the room. Something suspiciously like plaster dust drifted down from the carved bunting. + + A tactical error, Thomas thought. Whatever was hiding up there wasn't doing it to be decorative. He took a quiet step back down the stairs, drawing his empty pistol. The air felt warm; beneath his doublet, sweat was sticking the thin fabric of his shirt to his ribs. From the powder flask on his belt he measured out a double charge and poured it into the barrel. He pushed the bullet and wadding down with the short ramrod, thinking that it would be quite ironic if the pistol exploded and ended the matter here. + + Thomas wound and set the spring, carefully aimed the pistol at the top of the archway and fired. The fifty-caliber ball tore through the light ornamental wood and into the body of the plaster statue that had perched up on the opposite side of the arch. Thomas shielded his face as splintered wood and fragments of plaster rained down. A sculpted head, arm, and pieces of a foot thudded to the floor in front of him. + + He climbed the last few steps and stopped at the front of the gallery, which was now wreathed in the heavy white smoke of the pistol's discharge. This next trap wasn't bothering to conceal itself. + + Ponderously the angel statue turned its head toward him and stepped out of its niche in the far wall. Thomas shoved the empty pistol back into his sash and drew the second loaded one, circling away from the angel. It was slow, its feet striking the polished floor heavily, plaster wings flapping stiffly. + + It stalked him like a stiff cat as he backed away. He wanted to save the pistol for whatever was behind the next door, so he was reluctant to fire. + + Then his boot knocked against something that seized his ankle. He fell heavily and dropped the wheellock, which spun across the polished floor and somehow managed not to go off. Rolling over, he saw that the hand and arm of the broken statue had tripped him and was still holding onto his ankle. He drew his main gauche and smashed at it with the hilt. The hand shattered and fell away, but the angel was almost on top of him. + + Scrambling desperately backward, he caught the base of a tall bronze candlestand and pulled it down on the angel. The heavy holder in the top struck the statue in the temple, knocking loose a chunk of plaster. It reared back and Thomas got to his feet, keeping hold of the candlestand. As it lurched toward him again he swung the stand. A large piece of the wing cracked and fell away as the blow connected, and the creature staggered, suddenly unbalanced. + + Past the stumbling statue he saw movement on the stairs. There were dark writhing shapes climbing the steps, dragging themselves upward on the banisters. He backed away, realizing it was the vines that had sprung out of the carpet in the first room. Are they filling the entire house? The situation was horrible enough, it hardly needed that. And he had known he couldn't get out the way he had gotten in, but he had hoped to have the front door as an option. Now that way was blocked. Thomas dropped the candlestand and turned to the other door. + + He pulled it open and one quick glance told him the room seemed unoccupied by statues. He slammed the door closed as the angel lumbered awkwardly toward him, bracing against it as he shoved the bolt home. He stepped back as the thing battered against the other side. + + Moonlight from high undraped windows revealed shelf-lined walls stacked with leatherbound books, most chained to the shelves. It was a large room, crowded with the paraphernalia of both library and alchemical laboratory, quiet except for the erratic tick of several lantern docks. There was a writing desk untidily crammed with paper, and workbenches cluttered with flasks and long-necked bottles of colored glass. It smelled of tallow from cheap candles, the musty odor of books, and an acrid scent from residue left in the containers or staining floors and tabletops. He drew his rapier again and moved around the overladen tables, inbred caution making him avoid the stained patches left by alchemical accidents on the floor. He knew he would have to come back to this house at some point: the desks and cabinets crammed with scribbled papers would undoubtedly hold some of Grandier's secrets, but now he hadn't time to sort the vital information from the trash. + + Thomas circled the rotting bulk of a printing press and a cabinet overflowing with ink-stained type, and stopped. At the far end of the room, hidden by stacked furniture and shadows, was a man seated in a plain chair. He faced the wall and seemed to be lost in thought. Dressed in a black cope and a baggy scholar's cap, his face was angular and lean in profile and his hair and beard were gray. He didn't seem to be breathing. + + Then Thomas saw the shimmer of reflected moonlight from the window and realized the man was encased in an immense glass ball. Wondering at it, he took a step forward. The enigmatic figure didn't move. He went closer and lifted a hand to touch the glass prison, but thought better of it. + + As if the gesture was somehow perceptible to the man inside, he turned his head slowly toward Thomas. For a moment his expression was vacant, eyes fixed on nothing. Then the blue eyes focused and the mouth smiled, and he said, "Captain Thomas Boniface. We haven't formally met, but I have heard of you." + + Thomas had not known Galen Dubell closely, the fifteen years ago when the old sorcerer had been at court, but he had seen the portraits. "Dr. Dubell, I presume." Thomas circled the glass prison. "I hope you have some idea of how I'm to get you out of there." + + There was another heavy crash against the door. The statue, the animate vines, or something else was intent on battering its way in. + + "The power in this bauble is directed inward, toward me. You should be able to break it from the outside," Dubell said, his composure undisturbed by the pounding from the door. + + It would be dangerous for the old sorcerer but Thomas couldn't see any other way. At least the heavy wool of his scholar's robe would provide some protection. "Cover your head." + + Using the hilt of his rapier, Thomas struck the glass sphere. Lines of white fire radiated out along the cracks. The material was considerably stronger than it looked, and cracked like eggshell rather than glass. He hit it twice more, then it started to shatter. A few of the larger shards broke loose, but none fell near the old man. + + Galen Dubell stood carefully and shook the smaller fragments out of his robes. "That is a welcome relief, Captain." He looked exhausted and bedraggled as he stepped free of his prison, glass crackling under his boots. + + Thomas had already sheathed his rapier and was overturning one of the cabinets beneath the window. He stepped atop it and twisted the window's catch. Cool night air entered the stuffy room as he pushed it open. An ornamental sill just below formed a narrow slanted ledge. Leaning out, he could see the edge of the roof above. They would have to climb the rough brickwork. + + He pulled his head back in and said, "I'm afraid we'll have to take the footpad's way out, Doctor." He just hoped the old man could make it, and speedily; the battering at the door was growing louder. + + Dubell scrambled up the cabinet easily enough. As if he'd read Thomas's thought, he said, "It's quite all right, Captain. I prefer the risk to more of Urbain Grandier's hospitality." He might have the easier time of it; he was almost a head taller than Thomas. + + As Dubell pulled himself carefully out onto the narrow sill, the door gave way. + + The sorcerer used the scrollwork around the window casement as a ladder, drawing himself up toward the roof. Thomas swung out onto the sill after him and stood, holding onto the window frame. Broken fragments of brick sprinkled down as Dubell grasped the edge of the roof above. + + Thomas boosted him from below and the scholar scrambled over the edge. Digging fingertips into the soft stone, Thomas started to pull himself upward. Dubell had barely been able to grasp the ledge from here; Thomas knew he would have to stand on top of the cornice before he could reach safety. + + There was a crash just inside. Straining to reach the edge of the roof, Thomas bit his lip as something gave way beneath his left boot. Fingers wedged between the soft brick, he groped for another hold and felt the mortar under his hand crumble. + + Then from above, Galen Dubell caught his arm in an iron grip, supporting him as he found another foothold. For a man who must do little with his hands besides write or do scholarly experiments, Dubell was surprisingly strong. The man's gentle demeanor made it easy to think of him as nothing more than an aged university don and to forget that he was also a wizard. + + Thomas scrambled over the edge, his muscles trembling with the strain. "I thank you, Doctor," he said, sitting up, "but there are those at court who won't appreciate it." + + "I won't tell them about it, then." Dubell looked around, the damp breeze tearing at his gray hair and his cap. "Are those your companions?" + + There was a shout. The two men he had stationed atop the tannery were waving from the edge of the next roof. + + "Stay there," Thomas shouted back. "We'll come to you." + + Slowly they made their way up the crest of the pitched roof to the edge where the others were throwing down some planks to bridge the gap. The slate tiles were cracked and broken, slipping under their feet. They had just crossed the makeshift bridge to the tannery when Thomas turned to say something to Dubell; in the next instant he was lying flat on the rough planks with the others as the timber frame of the building was shaken by a muffled explosion. Then they were all retreating hastily across the tannery roof, choking on acrid smoke, as flames rose from the Bisran sorcerer's house. + + * * * + + "So much for keeping this quiet," Thomas remarked to Gideon. The two men sat their nervous horses, watching from a few lengths down the street as Grandier's house burned. There was a crash as the facade collapsed inward, sending up a fireworks display of sparks and an intense wave of heat. The neighborhood had turned out to throw buckets of water and mud on the surrounding roofs and mill about in confusion and panicked excitement. The real fear had subsided when the residents had realized the fire was confining itself to the sorcerer's home, and that only a few stray sparks had lit on the surrounding structures. + + Three of the hired swords had been taken alive, though Thomas doubted they would know much, if anything, about Grandier's intentions. His own men had obeyed their orders and come no further than the front hall, so they had been able to escape the fire. There had been one casualty. + + Gaspard, one of the men who had been posted in the court behind the house, had been hit by a splintered piece of flaming wood as he tried to escape from the explosion. His back and shoulder had been badly burned and he'd only escaped worse by rolling in the muddy street. Dubell had insisted on treating the injury immediately, and Thomas had been only too glad to permit it. Now Gaspard sat on a stone bench in the shelter of a hostler's stall, his shirt and doublet cut away so Dubell could treat the blistering wound. The servant Berham was handing the sorcerer supplies from Dr. Braun's medical box and Dr. Braun himself was hovering at Dubell's elbow. Thomas suspected that Berham was providing more practical assistance than the younger sorcerer. + + "The fire is hardly our fault" Gideon shrugged. "Blame Grandier for it." + + "Yes, he's a cunning bastard." + + Gideon glanced at him, frowning. "How do you mean?" + + Thomas didn't answer. Dubell had finished tying the bandage and Martin helped Gaspard stand. As Castero led their horses forward, Thomas nudged his mare close enough to be heard over the shouting and the roar of the fire. "Gaspard, I want you to ride with Martin." + + "Sir, I do not need to be carried." The younger man's face was flushed and sickly. + + "That was not a request, Sir." Thomas was in no mood for a debate. "You can ride behind him or you can hang head down over his saddlebow; the choice is yours." + + Gaspard looked less combative as he contemplated that thought, and let Martin pull him unresisting to the horses. + + Berham was packing the medical box under Braun's direction and Dubell was staring at the fire. Thomas had been considering the question of why Grandier had not killed Galen Dubell. The answer could simply be that Grandier might have wanted to extract information from the old scholar, and his plan had gone awry when the King's Watch located the house. But somehow he didn't think it was going to be simple. The fire should have started when I broke the glass ball. Yes, it served the purpose of destroying Grandier's papers, but why not kill all the birds with one stone? Unless he wanted us to rescue Dubell. But why? To announce his presence? To show them how powerful and frightening he was? To make them distrust Dubell? + + As Berham took the box away to pack on his horse, Thomas waved Dr. Braun over and leaned down to ask him, "Is it possible for Grandier to... tamper with another sorcerer, to put a geas on him?" + + Braun looked shocked. "A geas can be laid on an untrained mind, yes, but not on a sorcerer like Dr. Dubell." + + "Are you very sure about that?" + + "Of course." After a moment, under Thomas's close scrutiny, Braun coughed and said, "Well, I am quite sure. I had to put gascoign powder in my eyes to see the wards around the house, and a geas, or any kind of spell, would be visible on Dr. Dubell." + + "Very well." That was as good as they were going to get without taking the old scholar to Lodun to be examined by the sorcerer-philosophers there, and there was no time for that. + + Dubell came toward them. "An unfortunate fire," he said. "There was much to learn there." + + "I thought you said it was dangerous to create fire out of nothing?" Thomas asked Braun. + + "It is," Braun protested, flustered. + + Dubell smiled. "It depends on one's appreciation of danger." + + "So much does," Thomas agreed. "They'll have some questions for you at the palace." + + "Of course. I only hope my small knowledge can aid you." + + "We'll find Grandier," Gideon said, coming up beside them. + + Dubell's eyes were troubled. "If he continues his mischief on such a grand scale, he will be hard to miss. He'll also be a fool, of course, but he may not see it that way." + + "Oh, I hardly think he's a fool," Thomas said. Castero and Berham had gotten Gaspard mounted up behind Martin, and they began to turn their horses away from the crowded street. As the others went down the alley, Thomas took one last look at the burning house. So far Grandier had shown an odd combination of ruthlessness and restraint, and he was not sure which he found more daunting. The sorcerer had snatched Galen Dubell out of his home in Lodun, indiscriminately slaughtering the servants who had witnessed it. For no practical reason, since Lodun University was full of wizards and scholars of magic who had been able to divine Grandier's identity within hours of examining the scene. Yet the fire that could have been so devastating stuck to Grandier's house like pitch and refused to spread to the ready tinder of the other old buildings. As much as he might wish to, Thomas couldn't see it as a gesture of defiance. He only wondered where, in what corner of the crowded city, the word had passed to watch for a sorcerous blaze in the night, and what to do then. + + Chapter Two + + "DOES THE MASK fit?" Anton Baraselli looked up at the young woman who sat on the balcony railing, her feet swinging under her tattered red skirt. + + Gray eyes stared back at him from the pale features of the distorted half-mask. "It fits. Do I have the part?" + + Baraselli sat at his table on a balcony overhanging the main room of the Mummer's Mask tavern, where his acting troupe made its home. He was middle-aged, his dark hair wispy on his nearly bald head, but his plumpness and the newness of his clothes reflected his troupe's recent prosperity. He could barely hear the woman's deep voice over the shouted conversation, drunken arguments, and the competing strains of mandolin and viola that rose up from the rowdy crowd on the tavern's main floor below. The wealthier patrons were drinking in the small private rooms off the second-floor gallery, the shutters propped open so the music could reach them clearly. + + "Well, you've no troupe to recommend you," Baraselli said, leaning back. He didn't want to pay her as much as she might ask. His last Columbine had run off to be married, leaving without a backward glance yesterday morning. + + Baraselli had come to Ile-Rien from conquered Adera years ago when all forms of the Aderassi theater were despised and confined to back alleys and peasant festivals. Now the war with Bisra was over and Ile-Rien's capital was more cosmopolitan and free with its money. Vienne was a jewel of a city in a rich setting, standing on temperate plains roughly in the center of the country, with rolling hills and olive groves on the warmer coast to the southwest, rich forested midlands, and black-soiled farmland in the terraced valleys of the high country to the north. Baraselli had liked it, and now that Commedia and other foreign theatricals were popular he liked it a great deal more. + + The woman took the mask off and tossed it onto the table. Her hair was dirty blond and her narrow face with its long nose and direct eyes was plain, too plain to ever play the unmasked heroines. Her faded red dress was old and well-worn, better than a country woman's but no bawd's false finery either. Whatever the rumormongers thought, whores made terrible actresses. + + She looked toward him with a grin. Smoke from the candles and clay pipes below reached up to touch the tavern's high beamed ceiling and spread out like a cloud behind her. It was an interesting theatrical effect, but there was something about the image that Baraselli found faintly disquieting. She said, "I'm not here to make my fortune. I'll take what you paid the last one." + + She had good teeth, too. "All right, you're our Columbine. But on sufferance, mind. We've got an important engagement, a very important engagement. It happens when you attract the crowds and praise we have. If you don't give a fine performance, you're out. If you do, well, it's one silver per fortnight and a fair share of whatever they throw onto the stage." + + "That's well, I agree." + + "Anton! Look out the window." Garin, still wearing the gray beard from his Pantalone costume, came pounding up the stairs. + + "What? I'm busy." + + Garin pushed past him and threw open the shutters of the window behind Baraselli's table. + + "Damn it, you'll let the night air and the bogles in, you fool." Baraselli stood abruptly, jarring the table and slopping wine onto the stained floor. + + "But look at this." Garin pointed. The Mummer's Mask stood in a huddle of taverns and old houses on the side of a low hill commanding a good view of the River Quarter. Lying before them were the narrow overhung streets of the older and poorer area, which eventually led into the vast plazas and pillared promenades surrounded by the garden courts of the wealthy. Farther to the west and standing high above the slate and wooden roofs were the domes of churches, the fantastic and fanciful statues ornamenting the gables of the fortified Great Houses, the spires of the stone-filigree palaces on the artificial islands on the river's upper reaches, all transformed into anonymous shapes of alternating black and silver as clouds drifted past the moon. But now, against the stark shadowy forms of the crowded structures of the River Quarter, they could see the bright glow of fire, a harsh splash of color in the darkness. + + "Down near Cross Street, I think," Garin said. + + More of the troupe had drifted up the stairs in his wake, curious. "Lord save it doesn't spread," one of them whispered. + + "Another bad omen," Baraselli muttered. One of the clowns had died of fever last month. Clowns were traditionally good luck in Adera, if not in Ile-Rien, and having one of them die unexpectedly had shaken the other performers. Gods and spirits, no more omens before this of all performances, Baraselli prayed. + + "Maybe it's a good omen," the new Columbine said, selecting an apple out of the bowl on the table and watching the worried actors with oblique amusement. "Some people think fire is." + + Dark smoke streamed into the night sky. + + * * * + + They rode through St. Anne's Gate and into the cobbled court between the high walls of the Mews and the Cisternan Guard Barracks. The facades of the two buildings were almost identical, though time and weather had scarred the dressed stone in different ways. Each was entered by three great archways that faced one another across the length of the court. Now torches threw reflections up onto the mist-slick stone as grooms and stablehands hurried to take the horses or curious Cisternans wandered out to see what the excitement was. + + Thomas dismounted and handed the reins to one of the grooms. He took off a glove to rub the horse's nape, then let the man lead her away. This was Cisternan Guard territory, but it was also the closest entrance to the palace, and he wanted Galen Dubell within a warded structure before Grandier made another attempt on the old sorcerer. + + The palace wards repelled fay, sendings, and any other form of magical attack. They were fitted together like the pieces of a puzzlebox, or a stained glass window, and drifted constantly, moving past each other, folding over each other, wandering at will over their domain. They would prevent the sorcerous abduction that Grandier had used to snatch Galen Dubell from his home in Lodun, and the palace's other defenses were more than adequate to hold off hired swords. + + As Thomas crossed the court toward the two sorcerers, the Cisternan Commander Vivan joined him. The Cisternans were the regular guard for the palace, their ranks drawn from the families of the wealthy merchant classes or the gentlemen landowners. Vivan had held the post of Commander for the past five years, and even though the Cisternans were ultimately under the King's authority, Vivan had no particular political ax to grind, and Thomas found him easy to deal with. The Commander said, "A midnight expedition? How exciting." + + "I would have preferred to stay here and help you guard the stables, but duty called," Thomas told him. + + Vivan snorted. The old king Fulstan had made the Cisternans his bodyguard out of dislike for the Albonate Knights, who had held the post traditionally. When Fulstan's son Roland had taken the throne, his mistrust of anything belonging to his father had led him to demote the Cisternans and return to the Albons. Going from the King's Own to the King's Old had been a great loss of prestige for them and the Queen's Own had never let them forget it. Another sore point was that their ceremonial tabards were dark green trimmed with gold, making them good targets and appropriate decor during midwinter festivals. + + Gideon reined in near them and dismounted, asking, "Captain, what orders?" + + "Send these gentlemen back to the Guard House." As the lieutenant came closer and Thomas could lower his voice, he added, "Go to Lucas. Tell him what happened and then wait to see if the Dowager Queen has questions for you. I'll see him after this meeting." He wanted to double his share of the guard placements and put a watch on Dubell. + + "Yes, Captain." Gideon nodded. + + Vivan was eyeing the old sorcerer with grudging curiosity as Galen Dubell and Braun dismounted. He asked, "What were you doing, kidnapping scholars out of the Philosopher's Cross?" + + "Exactly," Thomas said as he went to join the sorcerers. "I could never keep anything from you." + + Thomas led Dubell out of the wet chill of the courtyard and through the inner gate at its far end, passing under the spikes of an old portcullis. Dr. Braun trailed behind them. In the wall beyond, a heavy ironbound door guarded by two alert Cisternans led into one of the corridors that ran inside the protective inner siege walls. The corridor was raw stone, lit by oil lamps and undecorated except for scribbled writings by present and long-dead occupants. Dubell shook his head. "I lived here for many years and there are still parts of this place I have never seen. I am quite lost, Captain." + + "We're in the siege wall opposite the south curtain wall. The Summer Residence and the Adamantine Way are behind us at the opposite end of the corridor, and we're going toward the King's Bastion." This siege wall divided the newer section of the palace with its open garden courts, domed Summer Residence, and the terraces and windowed facades of the Gallery Wing from the jumbled collection of ancient blocky bastions, towers, and walls on the west side. + + A steep stairway led up into the King's Bastion, which loomed above the Old Courts and the Mews. As they climbed, the surroundings began to show rapid signs of improvement, the rough stone softened by hangings and overlaid by carved paneling. The ancient cracked tiles had been recently scrubbed and polished, reflecting the light from hall lanterns of stamped metal and glass as soft pools of gold. They passed Cisternan guards posted on each landing, and began to hear the bastion's hum of activity, never still at any time of night. At the fourth level, Thomas led them out of the older stairwell and across the landing to the carved-oak Queen's Staircase. They were in the heart of the bastion now, and the men posted here were Queen's Guards. + + Dubell paused on the landing, looking up at the wide staircase with its dark wood carved into flowing bands and banisters set with fragments of mirror glass. Then he shook his head as if at his own folly and said, "It has been a long time." + + The old sorcerer had been led this way the day of his exile ten years ago, to see the Dowager Queen and to hear his sentence, which so easily could have been death. Thomas acknowledged the guards' salute, and thought it fortunate all around that Ravenna had been lenient with Galen Dubell. + + The top of the staircase opened into a vestibule, the first room in the Dowager Queen's State Apartments. The King's State Apartments were on the opposite side of the bastion, and the young Queen Falaise lived in another suite on the floor just below. They passed the young pages waiting in the vestibule and went in to the Guard Chamber, a long richly paneled room lit by several glass drop chandeliers. Gideon was already there and several Queen's guards surrounded him, demanding to know how the night's work had gone. They called greetings as Thomas entered, and he went forward to ask Gideon, "Did you see Lucas?" + + "Yes, and he spoke to Ravenna. But the Bisran ambassador came in and demanded to see her. They're in the Privy Council Chamber now." + + "Damn. What does he want at this time of night?" + + "Who knows?" Gideon shrugged. The ambassador was a diplomat, not a soldier, and the young lieutenant didn't think him a matter of much importance. + + Thomas considered a moment. Something to do with Grandier? If it was, then there went all hope of keeping the River Quarter incident quiet. + + "Queen Falaise has been asking for me." Gideon looked uncomfortable. "Will you need me anymore tonight?" + + Thomas eyed him a moment, but said, "No, you can go on." + + As Gideon left, Thomas saw Dubell was taking his leave of Dr. Braun, who had apparently decided not to brave an interview with the Dowager Queen. The other guards were watching the sorcerer curiously, which at least meant that news of their adventure hadn't flown too far ahead of them. There were also two young Albonate squires waiting self-consciously in the corner. So Renier is already here, Thomas thought. Whether that was good or bad depended on what mood the King had been in when he had sent him. He said, "We'll wait in here, Doctor," as Dubell turned back toward him, and they went into the anteroom. + + Tapestried hangings with a Garden of Paradise theme matched the carpet and table covers, cloaking the large, high-ceilinged room in rich shades of green. Renier stood before the immense marble hearth, abstractedly watching a manservant build up the fire. He was Preceptor of the palace's chapter of Albonate Knights, which was a military order founded for the protection of the King's person, and the only order of knighthood in Ile-Rien that still meant more than a courtesy title. They were members of some of the highest families in Ile-Rien, brought into the Order as boys, living in monastic discipline until they were knighted by the King. Renier would probably have made a better country bishop than a preceptor, but in his tenure he had kept the Order's tendency toward religious fanaticism under tight control. He had broad shoulders and was muscled like a bear, and still rode to tourney on King's Ascension Day, easily managing the weight of the heavy ceremonial mail. Over his court doublet and lace-trimmed collar, he wore the bedraggled coat of sackcloth and poorly cured leather all Albon knights bore in honor of St. Albon, who had done some wandering in the wilderness before his sainthood. + + Renier looked up at their entrance, saw Dubell, and smiled. "Success." + + Thomas watched the Preceptor greet the old sorcerer, and wondered just how much Renier had known of tonight's expedition. + + The door opened again and Lord Aviler stood there a moment, eyeing them thoughtfully. He was dark haired, dressed in the blood red state robes of the Ministry, and his handsome sallow face was carefully controlled. He nodded to Renier and Galen Dubell, then his gaze shifted to Thomas. He said, "The River Quarter is on fire." + + Thomas smiled slightly to himself and went to lean casually against the mantelpiece. "Only a small portion of it." Aviler had followed so quickly behind them that he knew the man must have been lying in wait. + + "A stupid mistake." Aviler moved farther into the room, his folded hands covered by the hang of his sleeves. Thomas wondered if the pose was intentionally copied from the High Minister's late father, or if it was only habit. Aviler had recently inherited the post of High Minister of the body of nobles and wealthy merchants who formally advised, or were supposed to advise, the King, and had a great deal of theoretical power. But the Dowager Queen Ravenna actively opposed him, Queen Falaise ignored him except on social occasions, and no one had been able to do anything with Roland one way or the other since he had taken the throne at the end of Ravenna's regency last year. Aviler was statesman enough to resent this and just inexperienced enough to occasionally reveal his feelings. + + "Really, my lord, what do you want me to say?" Thomas raised his brows inquiringly. "That the mission was in danger of being found out so I set the city on fire to confuse the issue?" + + Before Aviler could reply, Galen Dubell said quietly, "It was unavoidable." + + "Dr. Dubell." Aviler acknowledged him stiffly. "It's a pity you couldn't have returned sooner and avoided this consternation." + + "That was my intention, my lord, but my plans went somewhat astray when my household was murdered and I was abducted." Dubell said it with such good grace that Aviler was actually caught off guard. + + "So Galen Dubell is a diplomat as well as a scholar," Renier said softly to Thomas as Aviler recovered his composure. "He was something of a recluse when I knew him, but I suppose years of academic infighting at Lodun will give anyone eyes in the back of his head. It's good he's returned." + + Thomas wasn't about to admit he missed Dr. Surete, who had held the post of Court Sorcerer since he could remember and had died suddenly last month of pleurisy. Surete had been seventy years old, had called every man under the age of sixty "boy," and had been the terror of the court for his ability to use sardonic invective like a bludgeon. + + Thomas said, "Let's hope Dubell's not anxious to get back to Lodun soon. We're going to need his help." Dr. Surete's assistant Milam had been killed in an accident before Surete himself had died, and since then there had been nothing but argument over who would receive the appointment while lesser talents like Dr. Braun vied for attention. + + Renier looked at him thoughtfully. "Lose anyone?" + + Thomas's expression betrayed nothing. "Does it matter?" + + Renier said softly, "Forgive him, Thomas. He's a boy and he was angry." + + "I thought you'd given up on the priesthood," Thomas answered, thinking, If His Majesty Roland wants me to die in the line of duty, it's his business, but he could have chosen a better time. If he doesn't see that Grandier is a danger to the state... At Renier's look he added, "It isn't my place to condemn him or forgive him. But tell me, did Denzil suggest the plan to Roland, or was it someone else?" + + Renier stiffened visibly. "I know of no plan." + + The double doors into the Privy Council Chamber beyond the anteroom opened and the Bisran ambassador stepped out, his expression grim. He was an older man, with the olive skin and hawklike profile of the Bisran aristocracy. Ile-Rien and its capital and court were alien to him, and his disapproval was evident. The excessive formality of the Bisran Court made it stagnant and stultified, while in Ile-Rien landlaw had traditionally permitted high officers and even personal servants to address kings and queens as "my lord" or "my lady," and to forgo obeisance in informal circumstances. The ambassador's dark plain clothing and simple white collar also marked him as a member of their sect that regarded any kind of ornamentation as a work of Hell; the opulence of the palace must seem almost a personal insult. + + The ambassador's hard eyes swept the room, pausing on Galen Dubell's scholar's cope and narrowing in dismayed disgust. Turning to the High Minister, he said, "Another sorcerer for the King's menagerie, Lord Aviler?" In Bisra, the magical as well as most of the philosophical arts were condemned, though the theurgic magic their priest-magicians practiced had been a deadly barrier against outside attack during the war. Sorcery that was not performed under the auspices of the Bisran Church was outlawed, and punishable by death. + + Aviler hesitated, his diplomatic smile turning thin with annoyance, unable to find the right words to defend Dubell's honor without insulting the ambassador. + + Before the silence could last long enough to give the Bisran a victory, Thomas interposed, "Perhaps that's a subject you should discuss with the King himself?" + + The ambassador flicked a resentful glance at him and received only an ingenuous smile in response. As a matter of policy, Roland did not receive the Bisran ambassador, who was not very pleased with this arrangement, since it required him to address his demands to the considerably less malleable Dowager Queen. But why is he here in the middle of the night? It could be only obstinate determination to get a hearing no matter who he inconvenienced, but Thomas doubted it. To compound the Bisran's discomfort, he added, "But I'm sure my lady Ravenna dealt with you to her best ability." + + The ambassador said, "Her Majesty was most... civil," and favored him with the same cold scrutiny he had employed on Dubell. The Bisran Court did not allow favorites to wield political power, so the ambassador tended to discount Thomas's position and influence, and cordially hated him as well. It probably didn't help either that the shape and tilt of Thomas's black eyes gave his face a naturally cynical slant, and that with his dark hair and beard this effect made him resemble certain popular portraits of the Prince of Hell. If the ambassador had noticed the evidence Thomas's climb on a wet and dirty building had left on his clothing, no doubt he attributed it to some adventure in debauchery. + + Turning stiffly back to Aviler, the ambassador said, "Another matter. I wanted to make certain you understood that if Ile-Rien offers shelter to the devil's son Grandier, the cost may be more than you are prepared to pay." + + Aviler bowed, his reserved manner masking a certain wariness. "I assure you, my lord Ambassador, Ile-Rien has no intention of offering shelter to a criminal sorcerer who has caused your land such pain." + + Besides, Grandier hasn't asked for shelter, Thomas thought. Unfortunately. And since the Bisran sorcerer had announced his arrival in Ile-Rien by abducting a prominent Lodun scholar of Galen Dubell's reputation, it hardly seemed possible that he would. + + But it was likely that the ambassador was only using Grandier's presence in the city as an excuse for a confrontation with Ravenna, and if he was being prodded by the Bisran War College to take a more aggressive stance with the Dowager Queen, it could only mean trouble. Bisra was miles of dry flat plains, and only tribute from its conquered states kept its coffers full. The Bisran Church exercised rigid controls on a populace that was land-poor and half-starved in the country and hovered at the brink of mob violence in the crowded cities. Ile-Rien had its uprisings and city mobs as well, but usually over taxes, and they were scattered outbreaks that were settled within a few days. Bisra seemed to teeter always on the edge of chaos, and with Ile-Rien's rich land and its Church's policy of tolerance toward the pagan Old Faith as a constant irritant, war had been inevitable and frequent. + + And now Urbain Grandier's depredations had made them even more desperate. + + Thomas watched critically as the ambassador nodded with bare courtesy to Lord Aviler and strode to the anteroom door, the page stationed there barely managing to swing open the heavy portal in time. + + As the door closed Aviler shook his head and said softly to Galen Dubell, "My apologies, Doctor. To a Bisran, any man in a scholar's gown is half demon." + + Dubell's expression was closed and enigmatic. "And a sorcerer, of course, is all demon." + + From the Privy Council Chamber two Queen's guards entered and stepped to either side of the doors as the Dowager Queen came into the room. Everyone bowed and she acknowledged them with a nod and a slight smile. "Gentlemen. Forgive the delay." Her graying red hair was tucked up into a lace cap and she wore a dark informal morning gown. She was over fifty now, and the years hadn't diminished her beauty, but transformed and refined it. Only the faint laugh lines around her mouth and the shadow of strain at the corners of her eyes betrayed her age. She took a seat in the brocaded canopy chair beside the hearth, her attendant gentlewoman settling on a cushioned stool behind her. "Dr. Galen Dubell, I'm glad to find you in good health. Perhaps you can help us in explaining this matter." + + "Yes, my lady. You saw my letters concerning Urbain Grandier?" Dubell said, stepping forward. + + "Yes. Dr. Surete brought them to me when he requested your return to court. His unfortunate death delayed the matter just long enough, it seems. When the messages came from Lodun telling of your disappearance I had already sent an order lifting the ban and requesting your return." As she spoke she was already unfolding a square of half-completed black-work embroidery and looking for the needle that marked her place. Ravenna always had to have something to do with her hands. It was a habit that disconcerted all but the most resolute of petitioners and foreign ambassadors, but Thomas noted it didn't seem to faze Dubell. + + The old sorcerer bowed to her. "I am honored, my lady." + + Ravenna gestured that away. "Tell me more about this Grandier. He has an odd name for a Bisran." + + Watching the Dowager guardedly, Aviler said, "We have some knowledge about his early life. Urbain Grandier was a Bisran sorcerer and scholar, though it is believed his father was from Ile-Rien, possibly a visiting priest, or even a noble, journeying there during one of the temporary treaties in force in the year of Grandier's birth. This would explain his surname, which is certainly not Bisran. Stubbornly, he refused to take another name, and this probably contributed to the suspicion with which he was regarded there." + + She frowned at her embroidery. "His original offense was some outrage concerning nuns, and the Bisran Church removed his sanction to perform sorcery? And then he was arrested by the Inquisition?" + + "Yes, my lady. After his escape from the Inquisition, Grandier brought on a plague and apparently made subtle changes in the weather over the Kiseran plain, some of their richest farmland, and destroyed most of their last year's harvest. The Bisran theurgic sorcerers are said to be near exhaustion with holding off magical attacks on Church officials and the War College." + + Ravenna smiled tightly without looking up from her embroidery. She hated Bisra even more than she had hated her dead husband, the old king Fulstan. "One might point out that it is nothing more than they deserve." + + "One might," Aviler agreed. "But the point is that Grandier has suddenly chosen to come to Ile-Rien." + + Thomas shook his head, briefly amused. Aviler's relationship with the Dowager Queen was an acrimonious one. + + For her part Ravenna merely studied the High Minister a moment. Her fine long-fingered hands had paused on the embroidery, the gold needle catching the firelight. That might mean anything; Thomas had known her to order an execution, explain to the culprit why it had to be done, and deny the family's fervent pleas for mercy, all without missing a stitch. Then she drew the strand of thread up tight and said, "Tell me about the events at the convent, Lord Aviler." She nodded to her gentlewoman. "Lady Anne knows she has permission to leave the room should she hear anything that causes her to fear for her modesty." + + As Lady Anne bit her lip and looked studiously at the floor, Aviler frowned and said, "The original incident took place at a convent in a town called Lindre, in the northern part of Bisra. Grandier was accused of corrupting the nuns, causing them to blaspheme against their own Church, to attack each other, to perform rituals that..." + + "According to the Inquisitors General of Bisra," Galen Dubell interrupted gently, "he caused them to corrupt themselves." The old scholar had moved toward the hearth and was staring into the fire, an expression in his eyes that Thomas couldn't interpret. "They found evidence of human blood used in rituals, symbols and books banned for centuries, the darkest magic... There was even some evidence of an agreement with a Lord of Hell." + + As the others watched Dubell in silence, Thomas said, "In Bisra they still burn hedgepriests for putting curses on cows. Why do you feel you can trust the Inquisition's reports?" + + "True, Captain." Dubell turned back to them. "The Inquisitors were, of course, lying. They manufactured the evidence, or most of it. Scholars who are not even sorcerers may have items in their possession that an evil mind can misinterpret. And Urbain Grandier was a scholar. He studied the stars, as well as the body and its ills and humors. He was also very outspoken in his opinions, and involved in the printing of inflammatory pamphlets. It was for this that he came under the Inquisition's scrutiny. The incident of some hysterical nuns at the Lindre Convent was used against him and he was given the usual sentence of torture and imprisonment." + + Dubell's voice had an enthralling quality. It might have been facilitated by the growing warmth in the room or the fatigue that was catching up with Thomas, but the old sorcerer seemed to be painting a particularly vivid picture of the man Grandier had been. + + After a moment Dubell shook his head. "It turned him, you might say. He escaped eventually, and began to commit many of the crimes of which they had accused him, but on a larger scale. The plague, for instance. It caused pockets of a poisonous humor to form beneath the skin, which burst when the victim was in death agony and spread the disease to anyone who stood nearby. It caused so much chaos entire cities were disrupted; the sick went untended... Only a man well versed in healing-sorcery could have devised something so terrible, and only a man driven mad with the lust for revenge could have brought himself to implement it." In the firelight, Dubell's face was a mask of pain. Then he sighed. "When I heard that a man calling himself Grandier had become established in the city and was believed to be a sorcerer, I thought it best to bring the matter to Dr. Surete's attention. I only wish I'd acted sooner." + + Renier had gone to the round table in the center of the room and was looking through the faded parchment and leather maps stacked there. He pulled one out and found Lindre, then thoughtfully tapped the red cross that marked the town. "You knew Grandier very well?" + + "No. His excesses and the motivation for them were much discussed at Lodun, where there is great interest in the natural, as well as the magical, arts." Dubell smiled. "And the printing of an occasional pamphlet." + + "We know," Aviler said dryly. He paced a few steps, his face severe and only half-visible in the candlelight. Aviler's late father had made his fortune in trading voyages to the East before he had settled down to take over the Ministry, and the stigma of those origins made Aviler the Younger careful to preserve the proper aristocratic disdain toward the occasional political commentary from Lodun. But the High Minister dropped the subject and only asked, "Why does Grandier come here now?" + + Dubell spread his hands. "I don't know. But whatever his reason, he must be stopped and driven away." + + Ravenna nodded. "Excesses in Bisra are all well and good, but he cannot be allowed to commit them here. I agree, Doctor. But why did he seek you out? Some special grudge?" + + Dubell looked thoughtful. "It has been ten years since Dr. Surete and I last tended to the palace wards. With Surete dead and Grandier rumored to be in the city, I thought it best that I should see to them again. The warding stones that hold the etheric structure of spells in formation around the newer sections of the palace must be examined individually, though in the Old Courts where the wards are tied to the structures themselves such attention is not necessary. But now I realize the situation is even more urgent than I thought. If Grandier meant to keep me from examining the wards after Dr. Surete's death, then he must have some way to circumvent them." + + Aviler looked up, frowning. "How is that possible?" + + "The wards are not unlimited or infallible. The sorcerers who constructed them directed them to react to certain situations in certain ways. But their creators could not, and did not, think of every situation. If a fay knew where the gaps were that their movement occasionally creates, it could pass through them unharmed." Galen Dubell smiled. "Dr. Surete knew the most about the wards. He could tell you their names." + + "I see," Aviler muttered. + + "Do you? Good." Ravenna finished part of the pattern and spread the square of needlework out on her lap. "Dr. Dubell, when can you begin this examination of the wards?" + + "Immediately," Dubell told her. "It will take several days, as some portions may only be performed during certain hours of the night." + + "Good, but we must continue the search for Grandier." + + Thomas said, "The King's Watch found that house; they'll find him." The King's Watch was a euphemism for the network of spies set up by the late Aviler the Elder to keep an eye on discontented nobles living in the city and the foreign cults that had begun to appear then. It was they who had been able to find Grandier's River Quarter house when the Lodun sorcerers had named him as Galen Dubell's abductor. + + "Very well. That is enough for now. Dr. Dubell must rest before he begins his work and I know you gentlemen have much to attend to." + + As they made to leave, Ravenna added, "Stay a moment, Captain." + + Thomas waited, and when the doors had closed behind the last of the others, she asked, "It was difficult?" + + "Fairly." + + Ravenna lifted a brow. "That's hardly an answer." + + He watched her a moment thoughtfully. That Roland had sent him on a mission designed to cause his death probably rankled her more than it did him. "Is that why you wanted me to stay, to indulge my sense of self-pity?" + + "Oh, don't start. Roland could send you to the edge of the earth and I would not care." She smiled for a moment, but her expression became bitter as she smoothed a section of the embroidery. "Master Conadine was sent for today from the Granges to help deal with Grandier. He should be here within the week. It was the worst stupidity not to wait for him and to send you with only Dr. Braun." + + "If I'd had the choice, I might have gone anyway," he admitted. "If we had waited any longer Grandier could have killed Dubell." + + "And taken a handful of men, and only Dr. Braun?" Her lips thinned. "Never mind. Roland did it to aggravate me, and we know who encouraged him to it, don't we?" Ravenna tested the sharpness of her needle with a finger, then selected another out of the case Lady Anne held ready for her. "And what other mischief has Denzil been up to lately?" + + Thomas took a seat on one of the stools near her chair, feeling his weariness as a tight pain across his shoulders. The episode with Grandier had worried Ravenna more than she had revealed to Aviler or the others, but he let her change the subject. He said, "He visited a banker on the Riverside Way yesterday, but that was about a gambling debt. If he's planning something now, he's taking more care with it." + + "Perhaps." Ravenna carefully threaded the needle. "Someday he will miscalculate." + + Thomas shrugged. "Roland can always pardon him." Denzil was Duke of Alsene, Roland's older cousin on his father's side, and acknowledged favorite. There were men who had more respect for the finer feelings of their dogs than Denzil had for Roland, but the young King still clung to him. It was undoubtedly Denzil who had talked Roland into sending a small contingent of the Queen's Guard to beard Grandier in his lair, knowing Thomas would be bound to lead them, and knowing that it would infuriate Ravenna. Thomas reminded himself there was nothing to be done about it tonight. But he was looking forward to the moment when the news reached Denzil that he had gone into Grandier's house and brought Galen Dubell out alive without losing a single man. "What did the Bisran ambassador want?" + + "To accuse us of harboring Grandier." She made a gesture of exasperation, willing to be led away from the subject of her son's favorite. "And also to present a new list of their heretics sheltering in Ile-Rien, so they could be arrested and returned to Bisra to burn for their crimes. That the Bisran Inquisition has no authority within our borders is immaterial, apparently. I wish I knew why the ambassador is so certain that Grandier is here with our blessings." She coughed, and Lady Anne hastily produced a lace-edged cloth for her. + + Watching her accusingly, Thomas said, "You're not feeling well." She had caught a lung flux last winter when they had gone to Bannot-on-the-Shore to quell a minor upheaval among the March Barons. Her vitality made it difficult to remember that she was not a young woman anymore, and Thomas still regretted allowing her to ride with the Guard instead of going in an enclosed carriage, even if it had let her surprise the barons in the middle of their secret conference. The disease had weakened her lungs despite the best efforts of apothecaries and sorcerer-healers, and she wasn't up to any more midnight rides over ice fields, whatever she might think. "You didn't have to see Dubell tonight, or the ambassador." + + "It is very damp out, and you are not my nursemaid." She tucked the cloth into her sleeve, unperturbed. "I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. And if the palace wards are weakening..." After a moment, Ravenna shook her head. "And what do you think of Dr. Dubell?" + + Thomas knew she wasn't asking about the old scholar's abilities as a sorcerer. "He's no fool. He handles himself very well." + + "Lord Aviler, the old Lord Aviler, not that young puppy of a High Minister, had great faith in Dubell. Despite his past disgrace." She sighed. "But I've kept you long enough." + + Thomas stood up, took her hand, and kissed it. She said, "Oh, and I'd almost forgotten." She rummaged in her sewing case, and pulled out a ribbon-tied packet of letters to hand to him. + + "What is it?" + + "An annoyance for you to deal with." + + He accepted the packet with an expression of distaste. "And I was afraid I might have to sleep tonight." + + "Oh, it isn't urgent. At least not to me." She smiled. "Enjoy." + + Stepping out into the Guard Room, Thomas turned the packet over curiously. Ravenna never forgot anything; it must be something she didn't want to discuss. Before he could untie the bound letters, he saw that Galen Dubell was waiting for him. "A moment, Captain?" the old sorcerer asked. + + "Yes?" + + "Forgive me if the question is intrusive, but Lord Aviler does not care for you?" The High Minister had already gone, though Renier was still in the Guard Chamber, speaking quietly to the two Albonate squires. + + "Lord Aviler is like that." Dubell's expression held nothing but mild curiosity. After a moment, Thomas found himself saying, "He doesn't approve of favorites. He's studied enough history to know what damage I could do if I were inclined to it." + + "I see." Dubell smiled. "Does Queen Falaise still have her entourage of poets?" + + Falaise had been a princess of Umberwald when Ravenna had chosen her to marry Roland a year ago. At eighteen she was four years younger than the King, and if Ravenna's motive in choosing her for a daughter-in-law had been to pick someone she could teach and influence, she had made one of her few mistakes. Falaise might have been the quiet studious girl that the ambassadors had described when she was a third daughter with few prospects, but once here and safely wed to Roland she had taken to palace life like a beggar child let loose in a bakery. "Yes, she does. City gossip reaches you all the way out in Lodun?" + + "City gossip is a treasured commodity. The servants bring it in with the milk every morning. The general opinion, I gathered, was one of relief that she had chosen to turn her attentions to harmless poets, considering what else she could have done." + + "She could have had guardsmen." + + "Or sorcerers." Dubell's expression turned serious. "I owe you a great debt, Captain." + + Thomas looked at him sharply. "I think you've already repaid that debt." + + Dubell gestured that away. "Nevertheless, if I can help you in any way, do not hesitate to call on me." + + As the sorcerer turned to follow the servants waiting to take him to his rooms, Renier intercepted Thomas. "There's something I have to show you." He looked worried. + + Resigned, Thomas followed Renier to a quieter corner of the Guard Room. "What is it?" + + "A letter. It arrived today in a packet of dispatches from Portier. The courier's a trusted man who swears he never let the packet out of his sight." The big man unfolded a square of paper. "This is a translation I had a priest do." + + Thomas took the paper. "What language was it in?" + + "Old Church Script." + + Thomas read the first scribbled sentence aloud, " 'O Best Beloved'?" He looked up, puzzled. "To whom was it sent?" + + "Roland. But the priest said that's the proper way to begin an old riddle-song, which is what this is." + + Where the music is not heard, + + There was a light not seen, + + There are barren hills home to multitudes, + + And dry lakes where fish are caught above a + + city's towers. Catch the incantation, solve the song. + + "The answer is a simple one: the Fay," Renier said. + + There was only one person acquainted with Roland whose feelings would naturally express themselves in poetic forms of the past. "You know who this is from," Thomas said, looking up at him. + + "The country folk are calling her Kade Carrion now." Renier shrugged, uneasy. "I suppose we're lucky; she could have sent something that exploded or told the secrets of whomever picked it up." + + Roland's older sister, the bastard princess who had never forgiven anything. Thomas tapped the rolled paper against his palm. "An odd coincidence, with Galen Dubell here. Ravenna decides to pardon the man who first told the bane of our lives that she was a witch, and the witch herself starts meddling again." She had chosen her moment well. We have more than enough to deal with from Grandier, and Kade is too dangerous to ignore. + + "She's been quiet for almost six months. Why now?" + + Across the room, a musician had taken a seat at the spinet and now played the opening verse of a popular new ballad, about a man who fell in love with a fayre queen and was taken away by her. He couldn't have chosen an air more inappropriate to the moment, Thomas thought. He said, "One hundred and ninety-seven days. I keep count. She might be in league with Grandier." Though Grandier had killed to protect himself, and Kade was rather like a cat--if the mouse was dead it was no good playing with it anymore. But people change. + + Renier shook his head. "There's not much else we can do. The sentry positions have already been doubled and tripled for Grandier's sake." His eyes flicked up to meet Thomas's. "Dubell is going to tend the wards." + + "Yes, he is, isn't he?" + + "We've nothing to go on." + + Thomas handed him back the letter. "Watch him anyway." + + Chapter Three + + AT THE FIRST creak of the door, Thomas was up on one elbow and drawing the main gauche from the belt hung over the bedpost. Then he recognized the man entering the room and shoved the long dagger back into its sheath. "Damn you, Phaistus." + + The young servant shrugged and knelt beside the hearth to scrape the ashes out, muttering to the unresponsive andirons, "Well, he's in a mood." + + Thomas struggled out of bed. Despite the high ceiling and the natural tendency for drafts, the room was almost too warm; daylight shining through the high windows was reflected dazzlingly off the whitewashed plaster of the walls. His scabbarded rapier leaned against a red brocaded chair and his other three civilian dueling swords hung on the wall, along with the heavier, broad-bladed weapons used for cavalry combat. He ran a distracted hand through his hair, working the tangles out, and said, "What's the hour?" + + "Nearly midday, Sir. Ephraim's outside. He said you wanted him. And Master Lucas brought that Gambin fellow in." + + "Good." Thomas stretched and grimaced. A few hours of sleep had done little besides give his bruised muscles time to stiffen. While Phaistus banged things on the hearth, he found his trousers and top boots on the floor underneath the bed's rumbled white counterpoint and started to dress. "Clean that pistol." + + The servant stood, wiping his hands on his shirt tail and glancing over the draw table where Thomas had left his wheellock and reloading gear. "Where's the other one?" + + Thomas grabbed up a pewter jug and threw it at Phaistus, who ducked, grinned, and went on with what he was doing. Phaistus had come to the Guard House as a kitchen boy, silent and terrified, but had grown out of it before his voice changed. "I obviously don't beat you enough." Thomas went to the table and pushed back his sleeves to splash water on his face from the bowl there. + + Undisturbed, the boy asked, "Going to kill Gambin, Sir?" + + "It's a thought." Deciding he could wait to trim his beard. Thomas picked up the scabbarded rapier and went into the small anteroom. + + Ephraim was waiting for him. He was a little old man, the pockets of his faded brown doublet and breeches stuffed with sheaves of paper, the ballads he sold on the street. His stockings were mud-stained and one of his shoes had a large hole in the toe. He grinned and pulled his battered hat off. "You wanted to see me, Captain?" + + "Someone sent a packet of letters to the Dowager Queen through Gambin. I want you and your people to find out who hired him." + + Ephraim rubbed his grizzled chin. The best of the civilian spies Thomas employed, Ephraim was discreet enough for the occasional official mission as well as for Thomas's own needs. "That could be difficult, Sir. That Gambin lad hires out to so many there's no telling whose business he's on today, and he mightn't have a reason to go back to the fellow, you know." + + "Gambin's here now. I'll make sure he does." + + "Ahh. That's a different matter. The usual wages?" + + "A bonus if you find out by tomorrow." + + "Oh, I can't make any promises." Ephraim looked flattered. "But we'll do our poor best." + + Thomas left him and went down the staircase toward the clash of steel and loud talk from the large hall on the lower floor. The old, rambling house stood just inside the Prince's Gate, where it was dwarfed by the bulk of the King's Bastion and the Albon Tower. For seventy years the house had been the headquarters of the Queen's Guard and the property of whomever held the commission of Captain. The carved knobs topping the stairway's balusters were gashed and chipped from practice bouts up and down the steps, and the walls still bore the faint scars of powder burns from more serious skirmishes. + + The Queen's Guard were all scions of province nobility or second sons of landed families, with few expectations of large inheritances. The requirement for membership was a term of service with a crown troop, preferably cavalry, and an appointment from the Queen. In general the Queen's Own were unruly and hard drinking, and carried on jealous and obsessive rivalries with both the Cisternans and the Albon Order. They were also the most effective elite force in a country where until a few years ago private armies had abounded; commanding them had been Thomas's only ambition for a long time. + + As he reached the second-floor landing, Dr. Lambe was just coming out of the archway that led into the other wing. Dressed in a stained smock, the apothecary was followed by a young boy weighed down with various satchels and bags of medical paraphernalia. Thomas asked Lambe, "Did you see Gaspard?" + + "I did, Captain, and I'm not sure I believe it." Lambe adjusted the cap on his balding head. Apothecaries prepared the herbal remedies used by sorcerer-healers, and many, like Lambe, also made good physicians, even without any sorcerous skill. Healers learned in magic were in short supply everywhere but in Lodun, where the university drew them by the dozens. + + "What do you mean?" + + "The burns are scarred over already." He shrugged. "I knew Galen Dubell had a reputation for healing-sorcery, but what did the man do?" + + "Whatever it was, he did it quickly. He used some things Braun had." + + "Dr. Braun's not so bad." Lambe caught Thomas's expression and added, "He's not a steady sort, I'll give you that, Sir, but he has the makings of a fine practitioner in him. But this work of Dr. Dubell's... It would be an honor to hand the man bandages." + + Thomas watched Lambe go, thoughtfully, then turned into the small second-floor council room where Lucas waited for him. + + The dingy walls were hung with old maps and a few tattered remnants of flags, some of which were trophies from the last war, while others were more recent acquisitions from the Cisternan Guard, who would undoubtedly give a great deal to learn where they were. In the glass-fronted bookpress were classical treatises on warfare, manuals of drilling, musketry, fencing, and tactics, The Compleat Body of the Art Military and Directions For Musters. Lucas, the First Lieutenant of the Queen's Guard, was leaning back in a chair, nursing a tankard, his boots propped up on the heavy plank table beside a wine bottle and another tankard. + + Gambin was standing in the corner in an attitude that suggested he wanted to be as far away from Lucas as possible, and his long face was sullen. Gambin was a spy as well, but without Ephraim's sense of professional integrity. He worked most often for the lesser lords of the court, and this was the first time Thomas had considered him anything more than a minor irritant. He was dressed in a red and gold slashed doublet, the peacock finery of a court hanger-on that was particularly hateful to the eyes after a hard night and little sleep. Gambin said, "I've business elsewhere, Captain, if you don't mind." The bravado in his voice was unconvincing. + + Lucas raised an eyebrow. Thomas glanced at the lieutenant as he set his rapier down. Ignoring Gambin, he poured wine into the other tankard, tasted it, and winced in disgust. He said to Lucas, "Adijan '22? Are you mad?" + + Lucas shrugged. "It wakes me up." + + "It wakes the dead." Thomas dropped into a chair and looked at the spy. He waited until Gambin's pale eyes shifted away from his, then said, "Someone gave you a package." + + "They do. I'm handy for that," Gambin muttered. + + "This was for the Dowager Queen." + + The spy licked his lips. "Was it?" + + "Was it?" Lucas echoed. + + "It was," Thomas said. He drew the rapier from the fine black leather of the scabbard and out of the corner of his eye saw Gambin shift nervously. The hilt was unadorned beyond the inherent elegance in the shapes of the half-shell guard and the blunt points of the quillions, and the metal was worn smooth from use. Thomas ran a finger down the flat of the narrow blade, apparently giving all his attention to the shallow dents and scratches it had collected. "Who gave it to you?" + + "I'm not saying I had any package." + + Lucas pulled the packet of letters out of his rumpled doublet and dropped it on the table. Last night, after discovering that it was Gambin who had delivered the packet to one of Ravenna's gentlewomen, Thomas had given it to Lucas along with instructions to bring in the spy. + + Thomas held the rapier up and sighted along the blade. Despite last night's misadventures, it was still unbent. "Where'd this package come from, then?" + + Gambin laughed nervously. "There's no proof I had anything to do with that." + + Thomas looked up at him. "A Queen's word is not good enough?" he asked softly. "That's dangerously close to treason." + + "I... That's..." + + "Who gave it to you?" + + Gambin made the mistake of changing defensive tactics. "I can't tell you that." + + "'Can't'? Surely not 'can't,' " Lucas pointed out. "Perhaps you mean 'shouldn't'? There is a distinct difference." + + "I meant I don't know who it was; he had his man give it to me," Gambin protested. + + "That's a pity." Thomas laid the rapier gently back on the table and stood up. "You're no use to us, then, are you?" + + "So I'll be on my way, then." + + "Yes, do that." + + The spy hesitated, started to speak, then made a sudden dash for the door. Thomas caught him as Gambin faltered in the doorway at the sight of a group of guards dicing in the next room. He slung the spy around and slammed him face first onto the table. + + Lucas deftly rescued the wine bottle and moved it out of the way. + + Gambin yelped, the cry escalating into a scream as Thomas twisted the spy's arm upward at an unnatural angle. He said, "Keep yelling. There's no one to hear you who gives a damn. Now I suggest you consider an answer." + + "Look here, I... I'll find out who it is for you. I swear, he... I've got friends that can find him." The spy's voice rose in desperation. + + "I think you're lying. Doesn't it seem like he's lying?" Thomas asked Lucas. + + Lucas shrugged. "Well, he is handy that way." + + "No, no, it's the truth," Gambin panted. "I'll find him." + + "Are you sure?" Thomas put a little more of his weight on the man's abused arm bone. + + Gambin shrieked. "Yes, yes! I swear it!" + + Thomas let him go and stepped back. Gambin fell to the floor, gasping. He staggered to his feet, clutching his arm, and stumbled for the door. Thomas stood his chair upright and recovered his tankard from the floor. He gestured at the wine bottle Lucas was holding protectively. "Are you keeping that all for yourself?" + + Lucas passed it to him as he took his own seat. "I thought it woke the dead." + + "It does. That's what bad years are for." He poured the tankard full and took a long drink. He resented wasting the time on Gambin, and wanted to get back to the problem of Grandier. The three prisoners they had taken last night had known nothing. The man who had hired them had worn a hood and a mask, which was a common practice for nobles and the wealthy slumming in low taverns, and they had not been able to decide if he was a Bisran. Which might mean Grandier spoke without an accent, that the man who had done the hiring had not been the sorcerer but another confederate, or that the hirelings were too witless to have known him for Bisran if he had been wearing a Bisran cornet officer's tabard. We know nothing about Grandier, Thomas thought in disgust, except rumor and common knowledge. "I suppose Gideon relieved you at dawn." + + "Yes, and he was disgustingly cheery about it." Lucas sighed. "I can't recall being that energetic as a youth. Who's following Gambin?" + + "Ephraim, the one that pretends to be a ballad-seller." + + "Oh, hiring out, are we?" + + "Had to. All the regulars from the King's Watch are still looking for Grandier." + + "Grandier's a bad business." Lucas picked up the packet of letters and glanced through it. "So you're having an affair with the Countess of Mayence?" + + "A long, torrid affair. I get very effusive about it in the one dated last month." Thomas didn't mind his lieutenant's raillery. Lucas was perhaps the first man Thomas had learned to trust entirely, when with the rest of the Queen's Guard they had been employed as couriers and intelligence-gatherers during the last Bisran War. Since they were both dark enough to pass for Aderassi, the two of them had once spent six days disguised as mercenaries from that small country in a Bisran cavalry encampment on the wrong side of a wide and rising river. The Bisran commander had staged executions of captured officers of the Ile-Rien army as after-dinner entertainment, and the bounty he had offered for Queen's Guardsmen was enough to support a well-to-do merchant family for a year. + + "Yes, I particularly enjoyed that one." The older lieutenant spread the letter out on the table to examine the signature. "It's a good forgery. I'd think there were some truth to it if I didn't know you were too proper a gentleman to stand in line with the good countess's grooms and lackeys. I expect it's a lucky thing the Dowager thinks so too." + + "It's hardly luck. If Ravenna had asked me if I'd actually slept with the countess, I would've had to tell her I honestly couldn't remember. Most of the court ladies are starting to look alike to me." Thomas and Ravenna had not been lovers for more than a year, since her health had first begun to fail, and she knew that he had had other women since then. It hadn't changed anything between them; their relationship had passed that point long ago. The only woman she would have objected to was Falaise. Not too many years ago palace coups had ignited as quickly as fires in a dry summer; Ravenna could not afford to have the man who commanded her guard become attached to a daughter-queen who in many ways was still an unknown quantity, and who one day might like to rid herself of a dominating mother-in-law. + + But even though the letters had failed in their purpose, they were an annoyance at a time when Ravenna needed him free to help her, and not constantly guarding his own back. Thomas tapped the packet. "This was done by someone who doesn't know Ravenna." + + Lucas nodded. "Someone who doesn't realize how little she appreciates people who trouble with her personal..." He paused and his mouth quirked. "Matters." + + Thomas strongly suspected his friend had been about to say "affairs." He let it pass and said, "It's more the sort of thing that would work with Roland. I wonder if our anonymous schemer plans to try it." If some disgruntled courtier also tried to drive a wedge between Roland and his cousin Denzil in this manner, Thomas wished him luck, but it was far more likely this asinine trick was the brainchild of one of the Duke of Alsene's cronies. Inspired by a few casually dropped hints by Denzil himself, of course. + + Lucas looked thoughtful. "I wonder if it's been tried already." + + "I'd think the screams would have been audible even over on this end of the court. But there's no way to be certain." + + "Surely Renier, the ideal of perfect knighthood, would know." + + Thomas snorted. As the ideal of perfect knighthood, Renier was not without flaws. He was a skilled swordsman but tended to depend too much on his weight and size, using his greater strength to bowl over smaller opponents. This technique had some merit: there were many men who unwisely dueled with the Preceptor of the Albon Knights only to end with his footprints down their backs. Renier had knocked Thomas down once in a friendly duel, and when the Preceptor had stepped in close to follow up, Thomas had retaliated by slamming him in the groin with the hilt of his main gauche. Renier didn't seem to hold it against Thomas, and his good humor never seemed to suffer. But Renier had a misguided perception of loyalty, and while he was not a bad influence on the young King, he was not a good one either. He often went out of his way to repeat to Roland what everyone else in his hearing said, without regard for Roland's sensibilities or the safety of those whose careless words were later used against them. Thomas said, "The ideal of perfect knighthood thinks it's his duty to tell Roland every word I say to him, and God knows what His Majesty would make of the question." + + "Well, whatever you think." Lucas got to his feet slowly. He was only a few years older than his captain, but he moved like a much older man when he was tired. The reflexes go, Thomas thought, looking at the rapier lying on the table. And that's that. + + Lucas said, "I'm off to a well-deserved rest. Oh, there's that entertainment at court tonight. Will you need me?" + + "No, Gideon and I will take it. I've doubled the duty list for it, what with all our other little troubles." The acting troupes brought to court by the Master of Revels didn't ordinarily present much of a problem. Before they reached the palace they were examined for foreign spies or suspected anarchists, and the actors seldom turned mad and attacked anyone. "What sort of play is it?" + + "An Aderassi Commedia." + + Thomas winced. "Well, it could've been a pastoral." He drained the tankard. + + "Oh, there's this. I'd forgotten." Lucas picked up a leather dispatch case from a pile along the wall and tossed it onto the table. It was stuffed with papers. + + Thomas looked at it without enthusiasm. "What's that?" + + "The King's Watch sent it over. It's some writings and copies of documents from Grandier's heresy trial in Bisra." + + "You're joking," Sitting up, Thomas pulled out the papers and thumbed through the pages of faded script. "How did they get it?" + + "A Viscondin monk who was traveling in Bisra attended the trial. He asked one of the officiating priests if he could copy the documents, and they allowed it. None of it was considered secret, or important, apparently. The King's Watch said it wouldn't be of any use, but they know how you are about these things so they sent it along." + + As Lucas left, Thomas spread out the papers. The Viscondin Order was one of the few brotherhoods that could still cross the border to Bisra freely. The Church of Ile-Rien and the Church of Bisra had declared ecclesiastical war on each other when the bishops of Ile-Rien decided against purging the countryside of the pagan Old Faith. The Bisran Inquisition had started its persecution of sorcerers at about the same time, and the Church of Ile-Rien's objections to it had caused Bisra to outlaw most of the independent religious orders. + + The Viscondin monk had copied the court documents in the original Bisran. Thomas could read Low Bisran, but not the elaborate High Script used for their official documents. He doubted the monk had been able to either, and the King's Watch had probably not bothered. He sorted the unreadable documents aside to send to the palace clerks for translation. + + It was clear even from the monk's crabbed notes on the evidence that Grandier had been a victim. The nuns' testimony had been confused and contradictory, and the details of how Grandier had enchanted them were vague at best; if they had brought such charges in Ile-Rien a magistrate would have had them all hauled off to gaol for false witness and wasting the time of a law court. According to the monk, one nun had even tried to recant her testimony but the judges had refused to hear her. + + Grandier had been tortured with fire, the choking-pear, and the other devices the Inquisition used to obtain confessions of heresy. Despite this the sorcerer had refused to confess, and had been sentenced to the question ordinary and extraordinary. He had been subjected to both strappado, having been hoisted by his bound arms and dropped to a stone floor, and squassation, during which the executioner had attached heavy weights to the victim's feet, then hoisted and dropped him to within a few inches of the floor until limbs had been dislocated. The scars would be visible on his face, his hands. Even if he's healed himself, he can't conceal that kind of injury. It would be a miracle if he could straighten his back or walk without limping, Thomas thought. + + Grandier disappeared from his cell a few weeks after his torture. A month later the priest who had brought the original complaint died insane. Within another month the bishop who headed the Inquisitorial Committee followed him. The witch-pricker, who had probably falsified the demon marks he had reported finding on Grandier's body during torture, died later in "terrible delirium," as the monk described it. The account ended there, before the plague and the other horrific disasters now attributed to the outlaw sorcerer. + + If he wasn't working dark magic before the trial, Thomas thought, he is now. + + * * * + + The afternoon at the Mummer's Mask passed slowly as the tavernkeepers recovered from the night before and the acting troupe prepared for the night to come. Baraselli and his assistants sat at a big round table on the tavern's main floor arguing over which characters they would use tonight, while the actors lounged nearby feigning disinterest. Shafts of sunlight from the cracked windows glittered off the dust in the air and the various paraphernalia of the stage that had been hauled out for inspection. + + Silvetta, the actress who played one of the heroines, said, "What did you say your name was?" + + There was a moment of hesitation before the woman who had been hired for the Columbine mask answered, "It's Kade." She was sitting on top of one of the wine-stained tables, her legs folded beneath her skirt in a position that most women of better breeding would have found difficult if not impossible. The playing cards she shuffled were a tattered pack belonging to the tavern. + + "Really? Don't tell Baraselli." Silvetta shuddered, rolling her eyes in a gesture better suited for the stage. "Bad luck, ill omens, that's all he talks about. But they don't give children that name here anymore, do they? Except in the country. Are you from the country?" + + "Yes." + + "When did you learn Commedia?" + + "I traveled around with one for a while and learned the Columbine mask. That was after I got out of the convent," Kade told her. + + Silvetta leaned forward. "Why were you in a convent?" + + "My wicked stepmother sent me there." + + "Oh, you're telling me a tale." Personal questions out of the way, she said, "Do my fortune again." + + Kade's brows quirked. "I doubt it's changed any in the past hour." + + "You can't tell; it might have." + + "You can tell," Kade said, but began to lay out the cards for the fortune anyway. + + Corrine, the other heroine, appeared out of one of the back rooms carrying two dresses visible only as tumbled confections of sparkled fabric and lace. "What do you think, this blue or that blue?" + + Both women paused to give the matter serious consideration. "That one," Silvetta said finally. + + "I think so," Kade agreed. + + "What are you wearing?" Corrine asked her. + + Kade suspected she was anxious to make sure she wasn't going to be outshone by the woman playing her maid. With a shrug of one shoulder, Kade indicated the loose red gown she wore over the low-necked smock. "This." + + "You can't wear that," Silvetta objected. + + "I'm playing a maid." She laughed. "What else should I wear?" + + The free fortune-telling had won Silvetta over completely. She said, "At least let me curl your hair." + + Kade ran a hand through fine limp hair that the dusty sunlight was temporarily transforming into spun gold. Ordinarily she considered it the color of wheat suffering from rotting blight. "With an iron?" + + "Of course, you goose, what else?" + + "I hate that." + + Corrine draped the gowns over a chair and said, "The thing to do is to attract attention to yourself. There's plenty of men there, gentlemen, lords, wealthy men, on the lookout for mistresses. Of course, it's not often you can get something permanent, you understand, but it's worth a go." + + "Really?" Kade asked, her tone a shade too ingenuous, but not so much so that the other two women suspected subtle mockery. + + "Much better than an actor," Silvetta said, and jerked her head in the direction of the tavern entrance. The actor who played the Arlequin stood there talking to one of the tavern-keeps, having just come in from the street. He was darkly handsome, clean-shaven after the current fashion in Adera, and didn't look at all like the other actors who played clowns. + + After a moment, Kade said, "How well do you know him?" + + Silvetta answered, "He's new. Baraselli hired him last month when the other Arlequin died." + + Kade glanced at her. "Was he an old man?" + + "Oh, no, all our clowns are young. He died of a fever. It was very bad luck." + + The Arlequin had looked in their direction, and seemed to be staring at Kade. Corrine, who apparently had only one thought in her head, grinned and said, "He likes you." + + But Kade, who could read wolfish contempt in those dark eyes, snorted. "Hardly," she said, and by sleight of hand managed to insinuate the card for future wealth into Silvetta's fortune. + + * * * + + Thomas had spent the afternoon checking on the progress of the inquiries he had set in motion last night, but the King's Watch had made little headway so far. He had wanted to sound out Galen Dubell on the subject of his one time student Kade Carrion, but last night hadn't seemed the right moment after the sorcerer's rescue from three harrowing days as Urbain Grandier's prisoner. + + Galen Dubell had moved into the late Dr. Surete's old rooms, and Thomas found him there when the afternoon sun was glowing through the windows and filling the high-ceilinged room with light. The old Court Sorcerer had needed this room when his eyes had started to fail; the multipaned windows in the west wall took full advantage of the daylight. Gold-trimmed bookshelves covered the other walls and a globe still shielded by its protective leather cover stood in the corner. The rest of the furniture was buried under piles of more books and a fine layer of dust. + + When the servant led Thomas into the room, Dubell looked up from his writing desk and smiled. "Captain." He was wearing a battered pair of gold-rimmed reading spectacles and open books were spread out on one side of the partners desk Dr. Surete had once shared with his assistant Milan. + + Thomas said, "I wanted to thank you for what you did for my man last night. He would have died if you hadn't healed him." + + Dubell smiled. "You are welcome, but I don't think that is the only thing you came to speak about. Please be direct." + + Well, well. Thomas leaned on a bookshelf and tipped his plumed hat back, finding himself more amused than discomfited. Directness was not something one encountered often at court. "We've had a message from an old acquaintance of yours. His Majesty Roland's half sister Kade." + + "So that is it." Dubell took off his spectacles and tapped them thoughtfully against the carved arm of his chair. For the first time he looked like a young man who had gradually grown old rather than the model of an aged wizard-scholar who had sprung fully formed out of the fertile ground at Lodun University. "Indeed, I know Kade." + + "She was your apprentice." + + "Not quite. I was the first to show her the uses for the talent she already had. A mistake I have already paid for. Ten years is a long time to be banished from the city of one's birth." He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "But you have had a message from her?" + + "Yes. It seems to suggest she's about to pay a visit." + + "In person? That is odd. She usually sends tricks disguised as gifts, doesn't she?" + + "If you can call them that." Kade's tricks ranged from the dangerous to the ridiculous. The goblet that no adulterer could drink from had provided some embarrassing and humorous moments for the entire court. A gift of a necklet that, once clasped, contracted and cut the wearer's head off had been considerably less entertaining. The ancient knight who had arrived last midwinter with his beheading game had been one of the most frightening but the least substantive. Of course, Renier had fallen for it like a sack of rocks off a wall. It had taken the Preceptor of the Albon Knights off on a two-month quest that was notable for its pointlessness and not much else. Presumably the fay sorceress had watched from a distance, laughing her own head off. When violent, Kade was about as subtle as a thrown hammer; when devious, she still preferred to sign her name to the deed. As an enemy Thomas would have preferred Kade over Urbain Grandier; she, at least, was a known danger. "Could she be coming to see you?" he asked Dubell. + + The sorcerer got to his feet and went toward one of the windows that looked out on the Rose Court five stories below. Thomas followed him. + + The stone paths below formed gray rivers among islands of small red and white fall roses. On one of those shaded rivers were a gallant and a court lady, standing close together in conversation. There was something furtive in the turn of the woman's head that spoke of an assignation. They couldn't know they were being watched by the Captain of the Queen's Guard and the man who would probably be made Court Sorcerer sometime in the next few months, but in the palace someone was always watching. + + After a moment Dubell said, "Kade could have seen me more easily at Lodun. Why should she wait until now?" + + "I can't answer that, Doctor. She's only half human and I don't understand why she does anything." No one had been able to answer the question "why" when Kade's mother appeared at court twenty-five years ago to captivate the old king Fulstan. No one had known she was Moire, a great queen in her own right from one of the multitude of fayre kingdoms that hid under ancient barrows, deceptively deep lakes, or the disappearing islands that lay off the southern coast. She had held Fulstan's attention constantly, day and night, for one year before departing and leaving behind her a baby daughter like a forgotten piece of baggage and a man who was far worse a king than he had ever been before. + + Dubell had a way of seeming to pick up on someone else's train of thought. He said, "I remember her mother. I was a young man then. The King's Company was performing The Fortunate Lands and suddenly she was there, dressed in black and her jewels like stars. The Queen of Air and Darkness." He picked up a book from the window ledge and absently added it to a stack on a nearby chair. "A wiser man might have seen a potential danger in Kade. The fay who appear the most human are often more changeable and vindictive than their monstrous brethren. But I saw only an isolated child with the first stirrings of real power and the wit and the will to use it. I admit I have never felt guilty, Captain. I gave her only an elementary tutoring in the craft. If I hadn't, she would have found someone else. I'm sorry for what she has done with the knowledge since then, but I assume no responsibility for it." He looked back at Thomas seriously. "I suspect that may be lese-majeste." + + "Perhaps, but it's a mild form of it." Compared to most of what goes on here. "And we do need your help." He was sure Dubell realized that until another court sorcerer could arrive he had them over a barrel, and Thomas was curious to see if the old scholar would come out and admit it. + + Dubell shook his head. "I took a vow of fealty when I first came here years ago. Whatever differences of opinion have arisen since then can have no bearing on it." + + The old sorcerer stood there watching the garden below, his stooped shoulders revealing his bone-weary exhaustion. Galen Dubell spoke so freely it made suspicion difficult, even for someone in whom suspicion was a deeply ingrained habit. And how many times does a man have to swear undying loyalty before you have to give him the benefit of the doubt? Thomas thought. At least until events prove otherwise. + + The couple in the court below had moved somewhere out of sight. Dubell asked, "Has anything been heard of Grandier?" + + "No, not so far. He's not going to be so easy to find again. You haven't remembered anything else you heard that might hint of his plans?" Thomas asked without much hope. They had gone over all this exhaustively last night on the way back to the palace. + + "No, I saw and heard very little of anyone." Dubell spread his hands. "A thing to be glad of, since I expect that is why they allowed me to live." + + "I don't know. This is a very complex game he's playing." + + Dubell nodded. "So it is," he agreed. "So it is." + + * * * + + With winter on the way, the days were growing shorter, but as night dropped over the city on this particular day, Thomas felt he had done a great deal and gotten absolutely no results for any of it. As he leaned on the balustrade of the Queen's loggia and repeated to his young lieutenant Gideon the last message from the King's Watch commander, he was even more convinced of it. + + One of the roofed terrace's walls was open to the night and to a view of the park and the river canal where it ran for a time within the towering bulk of the palace's outer curtain wall. Paintings on oiled silk hung from the edge of the roof, rippling slightly in the sharp coolness of the evening breeze. + + "They've lost Grandier's trail completely," Thomas told Gideon. Both were dressed in dark brocades for court, with lace at collars and cuffs and overlapping their top boots. Thomas wore Ravenna's signature color of red in the ribbons on his sleeves and his sword knot. "Which isn't surprising at this point. He was here secretly long enough to establish that house; he could have bolt holes all over the city by now." + + "That's not very encouraging," the lieutenant said with a rueful expression. One of Gideon's duties was the command of the group of Queen's guards that formed Queen Falaise's escort, and he had been attending to her most of the day instead of participating in the more exciting search for Grandier. + + "That's an understatement." Thomas watched the breeze ripple the surface of the canal. Gideon had been Falaise's lover for the past month, and he wondered if the younger man realized that he knew it. Thomas hoped it didn't become awkward. I've known him since he was a boy, he thought. I'd hate to have to kill him. Muted music and laughter drifted up the graceful staircase to the loggia. The open doors in the archway below led into the entrance hall of the Grand Gallery where the night's entertainment for the court was being staged. Thomas said, "Grandier's playing with us. I think he wanted us to find him the first time, and the question of why isn't an easy one." He shook his head. "I'll have to talk to the King's Watch commander again tonight." + + "Yes. Well, there's one other thing." Gideon lowered his voice. "My lady Falaise wants to see you. I know what you've said about that, Captain, and I have put her off, but..." + + "I'll take care of it." You'd think the woman didn't have any sense of self-preservation, he thought. Thomas was trying to avoid giving Queen Falaise an opportunity to make him any offers he would be honor-bound to tell her mother-in-law Ravenna about. "Who is she with at the moment?" + + "Aristofan, he calls himself." Gideon grinned. "His real name is Semuel Porter." + + "Which one is he?" + + "The pimply one." + + Thomas sighed. "They're all pimply, Gideon." + + "The pimply one with the red hair." He hesitated. "Braun's coming this way." + + Thomas glanced around. Dr. Braun, dressed for court in a black velvet scholar's gown, was gesturing erratically at them from the landing below the loggia. "He seems to have something on his mind," Thomas said. + + Gideon looked down at the young sorcerer with thinly veiled contempt. "He nearly got Gaspard killed fumbling around with the wards at that wizard-house." + + "Then perhaps it will offset all the times that Gaspard has nearly gotten himself killed," Thomas said, his voice dry. "Go on back to Falaise. See if you can tactfully encourage her to show up for court." + + "Sir." Gideon saluted and headed for the stairway leading to the upper levels and Thomas went down to meet Dr. Braun. + + "I have something I need to discuss with you," the sorcerer said hurriedly as Thomas reached him. + + Dr. Braun was worried, and his normal hangdog expression had given way to a look of frightened intelligence. Thomas found himself asking seriously, "What is it?" + + "Captain!" The voice hailed him from the arched entrance to the Grand Gallery. + + Hell, it's Denzil, Thomas thought. He told Braun, "If it can't wait, tell me quickly." + + Braun hesitated, his nervous eyes on the approaching Denzil. "It can wait," he said. "I'll come to the Grand Gallery later." + + "Are you certain?" + + "Yes." The young man began to sidle uneasily away. + + "Very well." + + Braun nodded and all but bolted out of the entrance hall. + + Thomas went to join Denzil. + + The Duke of Alsene's father had been a wastrel and little better than a border bandit who managed to lose most of the family properties by the time of his death. Denzil had inherited the Duchy of Alsene at age eight, surrounded by a large family of grasping and impoverished noble relatives. Seven years later when he had come to court and captured Roland's favor, all those properties had been restored, and he had been made generous gifts of land, court offices, and the incomes that came with them. Now he had his own cadre of debauched and worthless young nobles, and he encouraged them to plot and spread rumors and otherwise annoy Ravenna, even though two of his foolish friends had gone too far, and died for it on the Traitor's Block outside the city. Ravenna was continually balked by his influence over Roland, and if Denzil's family had deliberately trained him for the part he played now, they couldn't have done better. + + "I've heard some unpleasant rumors about the crown's intentions toward my manor at Bel Garde, Captain," Denzil said, adjusting the set of his gloves and deliberately not looking at Thomas. The King's cousin was the mirror of the perfect courtier. His blond hair was curled to perfection, his beard perfectly trimmed, his handsome features unscarred by the ravages of battle, work, or time, his amber doublet trimmed with aglets and his gold-embroidered breeches the height of fashion. That might be part of the attraction Denzil had for Roland; the King had always been an awkward boy. "Perhaps you can put me right on it." + + "I would be happy to put you right, my lord," Thomas said easily. + + At that the Duke's eyes lifted to meet his, cold blue and opaque, and very much at odds with the pettiness he was affecting. After a moment he smiled ingenuously. "I've heard that a cavalry officer thinks my manor there is some sort of threat." + + That was enough to tell Thomas that Denzil already knew all and was only trying to bait him. Bel Garde was built around a fortified tower overlooking the city. In the last century it had withstood a two-year siege and it would make an ideal staging area for an attack on the city wall. That Denzil should be owner of such a valuable and potentially dangerous property was a sore point with the older nobility and particularly Ravenna. Thomas silently damned whoever had let slip their plans to the young Duke and said, "It isn't a manor, Sir. It's a fortress, and in violation of the edict against private fortifications." The edict helped discourage rebellious nobles, but Roland had managed to avoid the issue of Denzil's property at Bel Garde for the past year. He had finally given in to Lord General Villon's diplomatic prodding, but the difficulty had lain in keeping it from Denzil until they could get a signed warrant from Roland. + + "Who has said this?" + + "Lord General Villon, the commander of the siege engine cavalry." + + Denzil snorted. "He's a fool." + + Thomas lifted his brows. "It is possible he was misled by the moat and the crenellated walls." + + Denzil fingered one of the tawny stones set into the cup hilt of his rapier, apparently trying to decide if the mockery was worth taking issue with or not. Thomas knew the gesture for an empty one, perhaps put on for the benefit of a group of courtiers now crossing the foyer to the gallery behind them: Denzil was a superb duelist, but Thomas couldn't challenge him because of his loyalty oaths to the royal family. Denzil could initiate a challenge himself, but despite provocation, he seemed to be saving it for a time when Thomas was badly wounded or on his deathbed. Denzil finally said, "And so he will destroy it?" + + "Only fill in the moat and tear down the walls. The estate itself will be better for it in the long run. I'm told by those who should know that it presents a golden opportunity to extend the park and put in formal gardens." + + Denzil's expression suggested this was the equivalent of prostituting one's children. He said, "Surely this plot did not originate with the King." + + "This edict has been posted in the Council Chamber for two years and a great many lords have already submitted to it. I would hardly call it a plot, Sir." + + Denzil gestured that logic away. "You would not call it so, Sir," he said stiffly. "I would like to know why you are my enemy, Sir, and despise me so." + + It was one of Denzil's best tactics with Roland; he could turn any mild criticism into a personal attack on himself. Thomas said, "I suppose if I ever gave you any thought, I might despise you, Sir, but I can't imagine circumstances in which I would be compelled to give you any notice at all." + + The expression of artificial indignance in Denzil's eyes hardened to real anger, and for a moment Thomas was hopeful, but the young Duke was only foolish about things that endangered other people's lives, not his own, and the moment passed. + + "We will see, Sir," Denzil said softly. + + Thomas waited until the Duke had vanished through the main doors of the Grand Gallery before starting down the steps after him. Denzil couldn't have gotten wind of the plans for Bel Garde any time before this afternoon, at the earliest, or he would have confronted Roland about it when he saw him this morning. Wager then that Denzil had approached Thomas impulsively. Wager then also that he would approach Roland sometime tonight, instead of waiting for a private audience, in the hopes of provoking Ravenna into an unflattering and public argument with the King. + + Walking through the oversized double doors of the archway was like walking into a wall of sound. The combination of the music from the musicians' galleries above the raised dais and the babble of conversation echoed off the high sculpted contours of the ceiling and shivered the rock-crystal chandeliers. The room was so immense that what Thomas knew to be a large crowd appeared sparse. Visiting nobles, courtiers, ministers, and wealthy merchants invited out of courtesy or political necessity milled in large groups around the bases of the marble-sheathed columns, the orange trees potted in silver tubs, or the fountains running with wine. + + Thomas made his way through the crowds toward the dais, occasionally greeting an acquaintance. In the center of the room, the play had just started on a raised plank stage with wooden classical columns and a painted backdrop of an Aderassi marketplace. A gaudily dressed Pantalone with a pointed beard and a mask with a long hooked nose was in loud mock argument with a grotesque Pulchinella with a humped back, protruding stomach, and a high peaked cap. Some of the crowd were even paying attention to it. + + Cisternan guards were stationed at all the entrances to the gallery, though they were armed only with swords. The Queen's Guard and the Albonate Knights were permitted to carry firearms in the royal presence at court, but no one else. + + The polished-stone dais supported the three chairs of state for Ravenna, Falaise, and Roland. Roland was surrounded by his servants and a few courtiers who had been called up to speak to him. An Albon knight stood guard at his back. Next to him Falaise's chair was empty. + + Ravenna was firmly established on the opposite side of the dais from her son. Four guards were gathered near her and a lady-in-waiting sat on a stool at her side. + + Thomas swept off his hat and bowed to Roland who was hidden behind his wall of servants and hangers-on, to Falaise's empty chair as a matter of form, and to Ravenna, who smiled down at him. As he climbed the dais, the guard nearest her caught his signal and stepped out of earshot. Thomas kneeled beside Ravenna's brocaded chair and said, "There's news." + + Ravenna put her sewing down. "Elaine dear, come and stand in front of me, there's a good girl. Here, wind this thread back on the spindle." The young woman's full skirt, puffed sleeves, and wide plumed hat effectively shielded them from curious eyes. + + "Denzil knows about the plans for Bel Garde. It's likely he'll confront Roland about it tonight. You know what will happen," Thomas told Ravenna. + + Ravenna's face set. "Villon's been working on Roland for the past two months. He said he'd give the order." She shoved her sewing into her satchel and started to stand. + + Thomas said, "Don't." + + She stopped, looking down at him, her hands white-knuckled on the arms of her chair. + + "Roland won't listen to you. Or worse, he'll do the opposite." + + "He will do what I..." + + He regarded her steadily. "Face it, Ravenna; it's a fact." + + She sat back down with a thump. "Damn Denzil to hell. Damn you to hell. Hand me that fan, Elaine. Oh, don't cringe so, child; I'm not angry with you, am I?" She fanned herself rapidly, the delicate silk construction somehow holding up under the pressure of her grip. "I want you to kill Denzil, Thomas." + + Thomas nodded. "Fine. Is now soon enough? I believe I can hit him from here if Elaine would step out of the line of fire." + + "No, no. I'll get him eventually. I'll think of something. You'll think of something; it's your duty." + + "My duty is protecting you and Falaise," he reminded her. + + Ravenna snorted in disdain. "Damn Falaise to hell. What I mind most is that Denzil's making a fool of the boy. Treating him like a puppy to be petted or kicked as the mood takes him. God, I hate that." + + Thomas didn't answer. + + She twisted the fan between her fingers, then extended it with a snap. "Well?" she asked softly. + + Thomas turned over a couple of options, then said, "Send the order tonight. Tell them to start a breach in Bel Garde's curtain wall." + + She hesitated. + + He continued, "There was a mistake. You thought Roland had signed the warrant, or was about to sign it. You sent the order yesterday." + + "Ah." She bit her lip thoughtfully and the fan's motion slowed. "I will order them to stop work immediately when I realize what an unfortunate mistake has been made. I will be properly apologetic. I will repair it with my own funds." + + Thomas waited, watching her as she thought it over. A breach in a supporting section of the curtain wall would be difficult to repair, especially with gentle mismanagement, and could be made to buy them at least six months. It would also keep General Villon, who was away with his troop at the moment, from being compromised. + + "It will do," Ravenna said. "Elaine, find me that lapdesk, please." + + As the girl brought the flat wooden box with the ink bottle and pen set, Thomas noticed the crowd around Roland had cleared and one of the stewards was presenting Dr. Galen Dubell to the King. As the old sorcerer bowed deeply, Roland said, "Come up here, Sir, and tell me how things are at Lodun." + + Roland had wanted to go to Lodun or the smaller university further off in Duncanny, but Ravenna had needed him here during her regency, and before that, Fulstan had refused to even let the boy make a progress there to see the place. It couldn't have hurt, Thomas thought as Ravenna's pen scratched across the parchment. He'd have tired of it in a few months, but it would have made him happy. God knows, they might even have been able to teach him something. Roland resembled his father, with his curling brown hair and blue eyes, but his features were a good deal more delicate. The King's servants would never have let him out of his rooms looking anything other than immaculate, but he still managed to look incongruous in his cloth-of-gold slashed doublet, and the lace of his falling band was beginning to turn. + + Galen Dubell climbed the dais and took a seat on the stool a servant whisked into place for him. Roland asked a question and the sorcerer's answer made him laugh. Thomas looked over the crowd for Denzil and spotted him in deep conversation with a man he didn't recognize. Denzil's companion had dark hair and sharp features, and though he was dressed in the heavy brocades of court finery, he was obviously ill at ease. That might not be due to the lofty company: most of the city's monied class was here, bringing with them all the rivalries and old scores that wanted settling. But something about the way he was standing, the way he turned his head, made Thomas think he was observing the crowd and the room with particular care. + + If this was some new advisor of Denzil's, he hadn't been in the last report. And if the spies paid to watch Denzil were taking bribes to leave out certain details, then there were going to be a few new heads adorning the spikes on the Prince's Gate come morning. But in that case, surely the man wouldn't casually wander into a court function. He might be only an acquaintance, Thomas thought. But Denzil seemed to draw all of his acquaintances into his plots eventually. + + Then Denzil broke off the conversation and started toward the dais. "Here it comes," Thomas said quietly to Ravenna. + + When the Duke of Alsene bowed in the Dowager Queen's direction she smiled sweetly back at him and nodded graciously. + + The steward caught Roland's attention unobtrusively and stepped aside as Denzil bowed. + + Roland said, "Welcome, cousin." He looked pitifully glad to see the older man. + + With just the right amount of theater Denzil said, "Your Majesty, my home is in danger." + + Caught by surprise, Roland said, "You told me your home was here." + + Thomas winced. Roland's reply had the distinctive sound of a lovers' quarrel rather than a sovereign dressing down a lord, and the courtiers near the dais were growing quiet to listen. + + Denzil recovered smoothly. "It is, Your Majesty. I was speaking of my home at Bel Garde." + + "General Villon has spoken to me about it. It's in violation of my edict because the walls are greater than twelve feet in height." Roland shifted uncomfortably. "They will be careful of the surrounding land, and it will improve the view." + + Denzil's expression remained stern. "Your Majesty, it is my ancestral home. Its walls have defended our family for generations, and are a symbol of my allegiance to your crown." + + Roland's brow furrowed. "I will give you another manor in compensation. There is an estate at Terrebonne that--" + + "My cousin, it is Bel Garde that concerns me." The carefully calculated interruption, the appeal in his expression, were all part of the deliberate assertion of his personality over the younger man's. + + Thomas could see Roland waver. The King said, "You are a trusted councilor." + + Denzil bowed again. "There is none more loyal than I, my cousin, and I need Bel Garde to defend that loyalty." + + Then Galen Dubell, forgotten at the King's side, said something to Roland. The King looked down at him, startled. + + Denzil caught a hint of something that worried him. Almost too sharply he said, "What was that, Sir?" + + Frowning in thought, Roland said, "It is an interesting point. Why do you need the fortress, Sir, when you are under my protection?" + + There was a tension in Roland's voice that quieted the rest of the conversations around the dais and stopped Ravenna's pen. Denzil hesitated, staring at the young King. Then he made a gracious bow. "I need it...to present it to you, Sire." + + There was a moment's silence as the surrounding courtiers digested that, then a polite murmur of congratulations and applause. "Oh, how delightful," Ravenna exclaimed loudly. + + "I accept it, Sir," Roland said happily. "I'll have my best architect put in magnificent gardens, and then I will return it to you." + + There was more applause. Ravenna folded the half-written order and handed it to Thomas. "I shall like Bel Garde a great deal with a new formal park." + + Thomas allowed himself a slight smile, and dropped the paper into a nearby brazier. "You'll like it even better with your troops all over it." + + Chapter Four + + BEHIND THE WOODEN backdrop of the stage, in the small actors' area curtained off from the glories of the gallery by dusty velvet drapes and a canopy, confusion reigned. + + Ignoring the outcries and exclamations from the actors and clowns rushing around in the lamp-lit gloom and musty heat behind her, Kade had enlarged a hole in one of the dark blue curtains and was looking out at the rear of the gallery. The back wall was mostly paned glass, its windows looking out onto the terraces and a wide expanse of garden designed to provide a harmonious view. + + She remembered that garden, though she could see little of it now through the glare of candlelight on window glass and the darkness beyond. She could have pointed to the stand of sycamore trees, or the hill with its classical ruins carefully constructed to look aged and abandoned. She had expected to remember the palace, but she had not expected its sights, textures, and scents to press in on her in such an overpowering way. The walls were stained with powerful auras of old battles, old anger, love, pain. They hummed with the revenants of the emotions and magics of long-dead sorcerers. She had left her own marks here, somewhere. She was not pleased at the idea of coming upon one of them suddenly. + + Here Kade had learned her first real sorcery from Galen Dubell. He had taught her High Magic, with its slow painstaking formulas that used alchemy and the powers of the astral bodies to understand and compel the forces that governed the universe. Galen had been an excellent teacher, his instruction touching on everything from the simplest healing charms to the architectures of the Great Spells that eventually took on lives of their own. When he was banished for that teaching, Kade had been sent to the Monelite Convent, where she had learned about herbal poisons and the Low Magic of witchcraft from the village women. Later she had learned what she could of fay magic from her mother, but her human blood kept her from shape-changing and practicing many of the other skills that came so easily to the fay. It had been Galen's teaching that had enabled her to survive. Human sorcery was painstaking and slow, but powerful, using numbers, symbols, carved stones, music, and other tools to explain the unexplainable, to control and direct the astral forces the fay only toyed with. + + I shouldn't have come back, Kade thought. Somewhere between here and the Mummer's Mask, her courage had fled, leaving her to pick up the pieces of her plan alone. Not that it was a good plan to begin with. She felt an overwhelming desire to discard it and stay with Baraselli's acting troupe for a few weeks. The gods of the wood knew the actors could use the help. Only one thing stopped her. + + I might be able to stand feeling like a coward, but I can't live with feeling like this much of a fool. And it would be foolish to turn back when she had come this far. But the more she thought about it, the more the idea of returning to Knockma or Fayre with nothing solved and facing the same old difficulties seemed worse than continuing on this course. + + It had become apparent to her that she needed to go home, to the palace at the heart of Ile-Rien, to face her past. To face her half brother Roland, to see if it was really him she hated or the memories and the father he represented. And perhaps to face Ravenna as well, to show the Dowager Queen what that once-unlovely changeling fay child had become. To get her approval? Kade asked herself suddenly. I bloody well hope not. She bit her lip, fingering the frayed edge of the curtain. So it's either stay with Baraselli's troupe forever, or go on with what I came to do, what I said I had to do, she thought. A group of women passed by in front of the windows, the light glittering on their satin gowns, gems, and starched lace collars, their motions hampered by layers of underskirts, hip rolls, and fashionable puffed sleeves. Perhaps I'll wait and see how the play does before I decide. + + She turned back to the troupe's frantic clamor as Garin hopped through the curtained stage doorway. He was immediately attacked by three other actors and their helpers, who began to tear off his Pantalone costume and wrestle him into the Brighella outfit. Kade picked the wig and cap off the floor and handed it to them, trying not to get her fingers torn off by their frantic grasping. + + Baraselli peered through a gap in the backdrop. "Terrible," he moaned. "It isn't going well at all." + + "Damn it, man, I've done my best," Garin snapped, his voice muffled because Uoshe was forcing a new shirt over his head. "If it isn't good enough, then you get out there." + + Unlike other theatricals, Commedia had no playbook for the actors to learn. The plot was determined by the characters, and the actors learned only the standard lines for one role and supplemented them by whatever jokes or local gossip came to mind. Garin was doing the unfamiliar Brighella role more ad lib than usual and using the standard lines only when he could remember them; it was confusing everyone else terribly. + + Garin had taken the extra role because the worst had happened. The Master of Revels and the Cisternan guards who examined entertainers for the court had refused to allow the clown who played Brighella entrance into the palace. The clown had a cousin who was on a list of participants in an ill-fated Aderassi independence revolt. The officials had been terrifyingly polite about the whole thing, and Baraselli, suspecting them all to be magicians of the blackest kind for knowing about it in the first place, had not dared to speak even a word of protest. + + In the prisonlike barrenness of the questioning rooms of the St. Anne's Gate Guard House, the troupe had been kept waiting for hours. Partly, Kade knew, to give those who had reason to be nervous a chance to betray themselves, but mostly to allow the clerks to look through the rolls of "undesirable" names that the King's Watch endlessly compiled. + + "And what's your name, darling?" the Cisternan guard had asked Kade when it came her turn. + + Kade knew the robed academician in the corner of the whitewashed questioning room was a sorcerer, using spells to search out hostile magic. As the guard asked her the question, Kade felt the sorcerer's spell settle over her like a cold mist, invisible and intangible to anyone not trained in magic. It met the masking spell she had prepared and set around herself hours earlier, then slid across and away without friction. The sorcerer's second and third spells did the same. He stopped there, just as her masking spell was beginning to fray on the edges. He might have cast five or six spells and caught her out; Kade, being Kade, had taken that risk. If the sorcerer had detected either her magic or that she was fay, she would have thought of something else. + + In answer to the guard's question, she had said, "Katherine of Merewatch. They call me Kade, short for Katherine." Merewatch was a hamlet near the place she made her home much of the time, and so it was factual enough not to set off the truth spell that blanketed the whole room. It was a complex spell, older than she was, as intricate and detailed as the inside of a Portier clockwork toy. It had the combination of ruthless logic and artistry about it that marked it as old Dr. Surete's work. Despite great temptation, she decided not to tamper with it. + + The guard stared at her a moment. She had a minor qualm, wondering if they had really burned the only portrait of her, as Roland had claimed they had so long ago. But the man only said, "You ought to change that, you know. Could make trouble for you." + + "But it's what my mum calls me." + + "Your lookout then. And how's your mum's family called?" + + "She didn't have one that I knew of. In Merewatch they called her Maira." Also true; the deep northern brogue of the Merewatch inhabitants rendered Moire as Maira. Kade sensed a faint tremor in Surete's truth spell, but her statement was on that very narrow line of truth and falsehood, and it didn't betray her. + + Neither questions nor spells had shown anything odd about the actor who played Arlequin, and that puzzled Kade. + + She had suspected him of something, of what she wasn't completely sure, but she knew the palace's protections to be good ones. She had gotten through them with a substantial helping of fayre luck and the willingness to take a risk, and she knew that having been born inside the wards had let her pass them and any other traps Surete might have laid. It didn't seem possible that an ordinary human sorcerer could accomplish it. + + Perhaps he's just an ass, she thought, watching the Arlequin now in the backstage confusion. He was sitting on a props box, watching the others with a grin, cool and unaffected by the frantic activity. + + Kade lifted her leather Columbine mask and wiped the sweat off her face. She knew she should be going onstage again soon, but with all the Brighella confusion, she couldn't tell if they were getting close to her part or not. Possibly overwhelmed with relief at sighting the end of the play, the others might skip her last entrance entirely. + + Kade moved to where she could glimpse the front of the Grand Gallery through a gap where the curtain met the stage's edge. There was a good view of the dais from here. + + If seeing the palace again affected her, it was even more of a shock to see its inhabitants. Roland has changed--for the worse, she thought. Worse still, Ravenna hasn't changed at all. Despite the new gray in her red hair, the Dowager Queen was still delicate, still lovely, and still ruthlessly self-assured. And every woman at court was still hiding behind a fan while following Thomas Boniface with her eyes. That Kade had joined in this pastime enthusiastically as a child somehow did not make it any better. She had to admit, at least in the privacy of her own thoughts, that while he was a touchy and arrogant bastard, he was still well worth looking at. + + She remembered deep-set dark eyes, and a remarkably ironic smile. He had long been known as one of the jewels of the court, even when blond gallants were more often in fashion. She watched him leave the dais and cross the crowded gallery until he was out of her view. He must be nearing forty now, but the years hadn't changed him much and there was only a little gray in that dark hair. Don't be an even bigger fool than you already are, Kade told herself. He and Ravenna had been made for each other. + + Baraselli had given off moaning and was now racing around like a madman trying to collect the props for the finish. He rushed up to Kade and thrust a gold candelabrum at her. "Quick, hold this." + + An instant later she realized it was gold paint over iron and dropped the thing with a curse. It clanged on the tiled floor. + + "What is it?" Baraselli cried out, with the same hysterical urgency he would've shown if she had fallen to the floor in a dead faint. + + "I sprained a finger," she growled at him, tucking her smarting hands under her armpits. + + "A sprain? Oh god, it could've been your foot!" He grabbed up the candelabrum and fled toward the stage with it. + + Fayre luck, hell, Kade thought. She could hear Silvetta shouting at one of the heroes and vaguely remembered she should be onstage for that. + + She headed for the curtain. If she hadn't stood there like a dolt and held the thing... The intensity of her magic could be affected for a short time. + + * * * + + When Queen Falaise entered with Aristofan, or Semuel Porter, on her arm, and Lieutenant Gideon and the rest of her escort trailing her, Thomas had decided it would be more politic at the moment to leave the dais and take a turn through the crowd. He also wanted to find Dr. Dubell, and caught up with him as the sorcerer was leaving the gallery. + + They stood in one of the gracefully arched doorways at the opposite end of the room, just far enough away from the milling groups of guests to be able to hear each other. + + "You may have made an enemy," Thomas told him. + + "Possibly, but I certainly didn't intend to provoke all that." Dubell looked back toward the dais, frowning a little. + + Thomas leaned back against the curve of the archway and regarded him thoughtfully. "What did you say to Roland?" + + "Well, he asked me what I taught at Lodun besides sorcery, and I told him it was debate and logic, and we spoke a bit about how orators use it. Then Lord Denzil started his speech. Finally I couldn't contain myself. I said, 'It's an invalid argument.' His Majesty said, 'What is?' and I said, 'He seems to be claiming that he needs the fortress to protect you, but under landlaw of course you're his protector.' The King quite liked that idea, I think." Dubell shook his head, ruefully amused. "It's almost the right phase of the moon to start the crucial work on the palace wards, and I'd hate to be distracted. At Lodun we're all very experienced in how to give each other the cold shoulder at dinner, but I've been away from court so long I'm out of practice dealing with quarrels of this kind." + + "The thing to do would be to bring it to my attention, at least in your case," Thomas said. + + "Would it?" Dubell met his eyes seriously. + + "It would." + + "Then I will remember to do that." Dubell inclined his head. "Goodnight, Captain." + + Dubell left, and Thomas turned back into the gallery. He had never offered either support or protection to anyone at court lightly, and he wasn't really certain what had prompted him to do it for Galen Dubell. Except perhaps that the old sorcerer had survived decades of court intrigues and still seemed to have retained both his optimism and his honesty, and Thomas didn't want to see that change. He looked back toward the dais where Denzil now sat at Roland's feet, making his King laugh at something, all ill feeling apparently forgotten. + + Apparently. + + Thomas turned away from the dais and looked around for Dr. Braun, but if the young sorcerer was here he was lost in the crowd. + + The Commedia was almost over. Thomas hadn't paid much attention to it, except to notice that it was a little better than the farces performed almost nonstop for market-day crowds. This troupe had apparently altered its performance to accommodate a more sophisticated audience. He stopped near the stage beside a group of outland nobility to watch two of the clowns performing the climactic sword duel. Instead of uncoordinated acrobatics that would have bored most of their audience, with its connoisseur's appreciation of dueling, they did it in exaggeratedly slow motion, allowing them to perform intricate moves that would otherwise have been beyond them. + + Thomas had also noticed the masked actress who was playing Columbine. She was standing within about twenty feet of him on the opposite end of the stage from the other actors and was the apparent instigator of the duel for some reason that he assumed would make sense if he had seen the entire thing. With tousled blond hair and a red dress that would have been more appropriate on a disreputable wood nymph, she was hardly as glamorous as the two demure heroines, but she had her tattered skirts kilted to the knee for the acrobatics and undoubtedly had the most attractive legs. + + Oddly, the actor playing the Arlequin was standing behind her in the shadow of a painted scenery column, not quite off the stage but not on it enough to be a part of the action. There was something in the man's stance that kept Thomas's attention. The Arlequin seemed to be focused on the actress a few feet in front of him, and not on the mock duel. His half-mask was dark and trimmed with coarse false hair, with deep scarring wrinkles around its pinhole eyes and snub nose. His brown baggy clothes were patched and torn, and there was a bedraggled rabbit tail on the top of his cap. Then the Arlequin took a half step forward and the air around his bare feet seemed to blur. The shadows near the column were pooling around him as if they were solid. + + Thomas swore, turned and brushed past the spectators, heading toward the Cisternan guard stationed at the nearest archway. He grabbed the guard's pike and said, "Get Galen Dubell; get him now." + + The guard stared. "Sir...?" + + "He should be on his way to the North Bastion. Tell him we're under attack. And give me that." + + This settled the Cisternan's hesitation at taking orders from another officer. He surrendered the pike and slipped back out of the archway. + + "What is it?" The Cisternan Commander Vivan was coming over from his post. + + Thomas said curtly, "The actor playing the Arlequin is in the process of transforming into something. Get ready to contain it or we're all going to be dead." + + Vivan looked toward the stage, startled, then headed toward the next Cisternan guardpost at a run. + + Thomas took the pike and started toward the Arlequin, ignoring the curious stares. His pistols weren't loaded and there wasn't time to do it. He came up behind the Arlequin at an angle, out of its line of vision. Through the breaks in the scenery he saw more Cisternans moving up behind the stage. A murmur of unease grew as the crowd saw the guards moving and began to sense something wrong. + + The change was so quick it was moments before the panic started. Suddenly the Arlequin's exposed flesh turned mottled and patchy and the actor's leather mask and rough costume seemed to enlarge and meld with its face and body. Then it was twice the size of the man it had been and its legs were taking on the demon-shape of a goat's hindquarters. + + A woman in the crowd screamed, and up on the stage the Columbine actress whirled and saw the Arlequin just as the creature rocked forward to leap at her. Not close enough yet to do anything else, Thomas threw the pike. + + The weapon struck the Arlequin's arm, staggering it. Wailing, it jerked the pike out and tossed it away, scattering yellowed bits of flesh. + + The crowd and the actors were scattering in panic and the Cisternans were fighting their way through the rush. + + Trying to push past the panicked spectators himself, Thomas saw the Arlequin strike one of the actors who hadn't fled quickly enough, slamming him through the wooden backdrop. It pushed a column aside, knocking another actress down, then charged the woman playing Columbine. Incredibly, she waited until the last moment, then ducked out of the way and leapt off the stage. Its own momentum carried the Arlequin to the end of the platform before it could stop itself and turn. + + Thomas broke free of the crowd and picked up the fallen pike. The Cisternan guards were circling the stage, pikes leveled at the snarling creature. Thomas moved to join them, noting that some of his own men were coming up to help. He hoped Gideon was getting Ravenna and Falaise out of the gallery, but he couldn't spare a look over his shoulder. + + A shot went off from somewhere behind them, then another, echoing thunderously against the marble facings, but the Arlequin wasn't affected. Thomas knew there were some creatures of Fayre immune to gunfire and silently damned Galen Dubell for not being here. The Arlequin made a darting motion at one of the Cisternans, testing them. It seemed reluctant to face the pikes again. Thomas shouted, "Steady, we can hold it!" + + He glanced sideways and saw the masked Columbine actress, a little to the side and behind him, watching the Arlequin. + + Everyone else with any sense had long since fled. "Get out of here," he yelled at her. + + She glanced at him and obligingly backed up a few steps. Madwoman, Thomas thought. + + Abruptly the Arlequin rushed forward, moving with sudden and blinding speed. It slammed into two Cisternans, knocking both men aside with a force that must have broken their necks, then changed course and darted toward Thomas. + + It caught the top of his pike before he could brace the butt against the floor. He let go and dove out of the way. The Arlequin overshot and crashed into a brandywine fountain in an explosion of plaster and brass pipes. Dripping with brandywine, it struggled out of the debris and turned to come at him again as he rolled to his feet. A guard threw another pike at the creature and caught it a glancing blow as Thomas drew his rapier. The Arlequin pounced forward and was almost on top of Thomas when he shoved the sword into its chest. + + The creature's forward motion against the rapier sent Thomas falling backward, his back striking the hard floor, momentarily knocking the breath out of him. Then the Arlequin was straddling him, falling forward on top of him. Its smell was foul, like rancid milk. Desperately he twisted the hilt and pushed, the creature's own weight helping to drive the rapier through cartilage and muscle. He felt the vibration through the hilt as the blade snapped, then the Arlequin shrieked and leapt away from him. + + Thomas scrambled back and shoved to his feet. One of the Cisternans tossed him a sword, but the Arlequin had leapt backward onto the stage. At least the thing was slowing down--and still dripping brandywine. Thomas glanced around and spotted one of his men. "Martin, go get a torch." + + The Arlequin paced around on the creaking wood of the stage, snarling at them. As Thomas looked back he saw that the actress who had been struck down in the first attack was on her hands and knees and trying to crawl toward the edge of the stage. Before he could move to distract the Arlequin, it whirled and saw her. She screamed and the Arlequin grabbed up a section of one of the painted columns and hurled it at her. + + Suddenly Columbine was on the stage and shoving the other woman out of the way. The wooden missile hit her in the back and knocked her off the stage, sending her crashing to the floor in a heap of splintered wood. + + Damn it, Thomas thought. Damn brave madwoman. He looked around as Martin ran up with the lit torch, a makeshift affair of a chair leg, a torn piece of someone's underskirt, and lamp oil. Thomas took it and moved forward slowly. The Arlequin shifted away, wary, ready to charge again. + + Thomas's first thought was to lure it away from the wooden stage, knowing the stone and marble facings in the rest of the room would give them time to put the fire out. But he suspected the Arlequin's instinct would be to take as many people with it as possible; when it was racing around like a monstrous torch, it would have plenty of opportunity. + + In the pile of shattered wood, the Columbine actress stirred. She pushed herself up, shaking her head dizzily as her actor's mask fell away. Thomas was thinking, She must have a head as hard as a brick... Then she looked up and saw the Arlequin just as it turned and saw her. + + Instead of rushing her, it gave that wailing cry again. Thomas took the moment of distraction to run forward and hurl the torch. + + He saw the actress struggling to her knees, her hands a flurry of motion. Thinking it over later, he thought she had scraped up a handful of splinters, spat on them, and tossed them at the Arlequin. They flew further than their weight allowed, blown by some invisible wind to scatter around the creature's feet. + + The torch struck the brandy-soaked fur on the Arlequin's chest, which caught fire as if it had been dipped in pitch. The Arlequin wailed and battered at the air around it, fighting an invisible wall. There was something containing it, a hardening of the air that the heat of the flames shivered against. + + The Arlequin dissolved into a cloud of thick black smoke. Its wails ceased and it curled up like a roll of paper kindling. Thomas saw Dubell arriving through the arched doorway leading from the long hall, and realized the fight had lasted only a short time. + + Actors and guests who had scattered around the room behind columns or furniture began to emerge from hiding. + + The guards were beginning to look around for wounded and dead. Thomas walked slowly over to where the Columbine actress still sat in a pile of scrap wood. She was watching the monster burn with a grin of undisguised triumph. + + He already knew who she must be, but it still took him what seemed moments to put together the direct gray eyes and the long straight nose with a forgotten portrait in an upstairs hall, and with the wildness of the magic she had just performed. + + Kade looked up at him, met his gaze, then winked. + + Chapter Five + + THOMAS SAID, "MAY I congratulate you on a spectacular entrance?" + + The sorceress looked up at him from the floor. After a moment, her lips twisted ruefully. "It was one of my best." + + Dubell moved to Thomas's side. He looked at what was left of the Arlequin, at the destruction in the gallery, and down at Kade. "Was this your doing?" His voice was incredulous. + + For a moment her expression was that of a small boy caught stealing an apple. "No." As she got to her feet, Thomas saw there were wood chips in her hair from the broken column the Arlequin had thrown at her. She looked defensive. "It followed me here." + + Thomas moved a few paces away from them. The Cisternans and his own men were scattered, collecting the wounded and the dead. There were still courtiers milling around toward the end of the room. Now would be a terrible time for a pitched battle. + + Dubell met Kade's eyes a long moment, then he said thoughtfully, "Did it really?" + + "Well, in a way it did." She began to pull the splinters out of her hair. "But it joined the troupe before I did, and I think it killed one of the clowns to get a place. I would have stopped it sooner but I'd touched some iron, and it took a bit to wear off." + + Renier and a group of Albon knights burst in through the archway and started toward them. The hide and sackcloth coats they wore over the lace and velvets of court finery made them look like ancient barbarians arriving to loot a city. Thomas went forward quickly to stop Renier. "Let Dubell handle her," he said in a low voice. + + Renier signaled his knights to halt. "Who is she?" + + "Kade Carrion." + + Renier stared. "My God, we've got to..." + + "No," Thomas said pointedly. "If he can get us out of this without a bloodbath, we've got to let him try." + + The big knight considered a moment, then nodded tensely. "Very well." He signaled the other knights to move back. + + Thomas nodded, thankful that while Renier wasn't a particularly brilliant statesman, he wasn't a bloodthirsty idiot either. + + "Did she cause all this?" Renier asked, looking around at the chaos in the gallery. + + Thomas glanced back at Kade and Galen Dubell. She was watching them, wary and a little angry. Her brows were darker than the pale blond of her hair, so the effect was that when she was looking at you, you knew it. He thought about her leaping to push the other actress out of danger and said slowly, "I don't think so." + + Then Kade's eyes focused past them and her expression changed. Thomas followed her gaze and swore. Roland stood in the archway the knights had come through. Thomas said, "Renier..." + + "What?" The knight looked around and gasped, "Damn that boy." He sheathed his sword and strode toward Roland, deliberately placing himself between the King and the sorceress. + + Thomas looked back toward Kade, aware that the other guards in the room had held off on his order. He would have to decide what he minded more, dying or behaving this stupidly. + + Galen Dubell was watching Kade thoughtfully. With gentle firmness he said, "Kade, don't." + + She looked up at the older man, her eyes losing some of their intensity. "I didn't come here to kill anyone--even him." + + Renier, as Preceptor of the Albon Knights and the only man in Ile-Rien allowed to touch the King without his permission, seized Roland's arm and hustled him out of sight. Dubell watched as they disappeared, then turned a worried eye on Kade. "Then why did you come here?" + + She smiled. "For an audience with my dear brother, of course." + + And that, Thomas thought, is not going to help matters at all. + + * * * + + The gallery smelled of ash and sour wine. Many of the chandeliers and lamps had gone out, throwing the upper half of the huge chamber into shadow. The court had been dispersed, and Ravenna, Roland, and Falaise had retired to a nearby solar with watchful guards. A breeze, created by an open door or window somewhere up one of the long galleries, swept gently through the huge chamber, lifting the heat and the stench for a moment. + + "How long had he been with the troupe?" Thomas asked Baraselli. + + The Aderassi actor-manager moaned and would have sunk to his knees again but for the two Queen's guards who were struggling to hold him up. The Master of Revels hovered worriedly nearby; it was on his responsibility the troupe had passed the final check at the gate. + + "No one's done anything to you, and no one will, if you just answer the question." Thomas kept his voice mild, despite his growing irritation. It was easier to question recalcitrant anarchists under torture than someone who was so busy collapsing that he could hardly stay coherent enough to speak. + + "Only a month. Only a month. I didn't know." + + Dubell had moved quietly up behind the actor-manager. His lips moved soundlessly for a moment, then he looked up at Thomas and nodded. Baraselli was telling the truth. + + "Who recommended him?" Thomas nodded to the guards, who cautiously released their hold of the man and stepped back. + + Baraselli swayed on his feet, but stayed upright. "It was his first mask, he told me. He'd learned it from an old actor he lived near. He did it well, and he came to us just after Derani died..." + + "Who was Derani?" + + "He played the Arlequin until he died of fever." + + Dubell asked, "What were the symptoms?" + + Baraselli whipped around, staring up at the tall sorcerer in fear, but something in Dubell's expression and mild demeanor calmed him and he said, "He... His skin was hot to the touch, and his wife said he couldn't keep anything down, not even water, and he had blood in his, pardon, piss, and... We paid to have the apothecary in to him, but he just died." + + There was something familiar about that. And convenient, for the Arlequin. Thomas asked, "When was this?" + + "Last month. Well, a month and a fortnight ago." + + Thomas shook his head, pressing his lips together. There was a pattern here, a deadly one. He looked up at Dubell. "About a month and a fortnight ago Dr. Surete's assistant Milam fell down a stairway in the North Bastion and broke his neck. A week after that Surete himself died of pleurisy. It came on suddenly, and by the time anyone realized how serious it was, he was dead." + + Dubell's brows drew together as he considered it. He said, "It's the easiest of dark magics to bring sickness, and the hardest to detect. It's simplicity itself to send a bookish and uncoordinated young scholar down a staircase. If one has the stomach for that sort of thing, of course." He nodded at Baraselli. "He's telling the truth, and I doubt he can reasonably be held responsible for Kade's actions. What will be done with him?" + + Even without the confirmation of Dubell's truth spell, Thomas was inclined to believe Baraselli. He had observed enough people under stress to read the sincerity in those hysterics. He told the Master of Revels, "Give him his money and tell him to take the others and go away." + + Baraselli sobbed and tried to fall to his knees in thanks. The Master of Revels gestured sharply to the Cisternans waiting nearby, who intercepted the actor-manager in mid-grovel and hauled him away. + + "It's either a hell of a coincidence, or a hell of a plot," Thomas said quietly to Dubell. He knew which he favored. + + The old sorcerer sighed. "There are no coincidences." + + Thomas watched him thoughtfully. "I would have thought it difficult for a wizard to hex another wizard, especially someone like Dr. Surete. He was the Court Sorcerer for two decades." + + "If a sorcerer is in fear for his life, he might test every object he is about to touch with a sprinkle of gascoign powder or some other preparation that reveals the presence of magic." Dubell made an absent gesture. "But Surete and Milam were not in fear for their lives. The spell could have come to them on anything--a forged letter purporting to be from a friend, an apple sold to them by a street vendor..." + + As Dubell stood lost in thought, Thomas watched the sorceress. Kade Carrion was pacing around the remains of the stage which the servants were dismantling. As she walked around the painted panels scattered on the floor and the stacks of singed planks, he had two distinct impressions of her. The first was that she was only a young girl with a tangled mop of hair and a tattered red dress, not oblivious to the consternation she was causing but not particularly worried by it, either. The other was that here was a creature ephemeral yet solid and real, who walked with the night and the wild hunt. Dubell is the only one who really knows her, Thomas thought. And even he isn't certain what her game is now. + + If she hated her brother and the rest of the royal family as much as she claimed, she wasn't without motive. Their father Fulstan hadn't been much use as a king: he had neither Ravenna's head for finance and diplomacy nor the ability to listen intelligently to advisors who did. The fayre queen Moire had drained him of what vitality and strength of character he possessed, leaving him bitter and old before his time. He had taken out his anger at Moire's abrupt departure on anyone in his reach, especially on Moire's daughter. No one directly in his power had mourned his death. + + Urbain Grandier, however, had no motive, at least not one that Thomas knew. + + Kade might be in league with the Bisran sorcerer, but discovering what she knew wasn't going to be easy. + + Dubell was looking toward the center of the stage platform, where what was left of the Arlequin had burned down into a heap of some foul-smelling dark powder. "Be careful not to step in that black powder," he called to the servants who were warily clearing away the debris. Then the old sorcerer turned and saw Kade, whose curiosity had already led her ankle-deep into the black powder. She lifted her head, surreptitiously rubbed a stained bare foot against her calf and looked the other way. Dubell shook his head irritably. + + The Albon knights had by now arrived in force. There were about forty of them in the gallery now, guarding the arched doorways and the terrace windows, pacing the musicians' balconies, and watching the sorceress. The rest of their number were patrolling the palace with most of Thomas's men and the Cisternans. + + Behind the dais, Renier emerged from the wide oak door inset with panels of stained glass. It was the gallery entrance to the solar where the royal family had retired to fight things out. He walked up to Thomas and said softly, "Roland wanted to put her under arrest, but Ravenna has talked him out of it. Apparently she's in favor of giving the sorceress the audience she wants, and trying to settle it quietly." + + Thomas thought wearily, Yes, Renier, tell me all about how the anointed King still can't win an argument with his mother. He said, "Really." + + Renier either did not recognize the sarcasm or ignored it out of habit. "My guess is they'll give her the audience." + + Thomas eyed him. "Very likely. I suppose, in the long run, it is better than going to war with her in the middle of the palace, killing everyone who stumbles into the way." + + As Galen Dubell turned back to them, Renier asked, "Dr. Dubell, could you tell what that creature was?" + + The old sorcerer nodded, gesturing back toward the ruin of the stage. "It wasn't fay. It was a construction of wood and animal bone, animated by a very powerful spell, called a golem. I'm not sure, but I imagine it was designed to resist anything the weight and size of a pistol ball. It's a relatively new technique which I believe will come in quite handy on the battlefield once it's perfected. Doesn't help at all for cannonballs, though. The combination of the weight and size..." Dubell recollected himself and shook his head. "But that is neither here nor there." + + "How did it get past the wards?" Thomas asked, looking at the heap of black powder. + + Dubell met his eyes frankly. "I've done some work with the wards, nothing that should weaken them. They shouldn't have let this creature pass through. I believe something has affected the ward structure, making the gaps their continual movement creates larger, making those gaps appear in locations predictable to someone. It would take an intimate knowledge of the construction of the wards, at least as great a knowledge as Dr. Surete had, but it would be possible. And, perhaps more disturbing, the spell that caused the golem to shape-change from the appearance of a man to that of the creature we saw here would have to be actuated by someone close at hand." + + Slowly, Thomas said, "You mean the sorcerer was here, in the gallery." + + "Or an assistant, who carried in the charm designed to trigger the golem. I have looked for Grandier's power-signature, but the ether in this room is free of it." Dubell nodded to himself. "Yes, I believe it was only an assistant who was here tonight." + + "What a chance to take," Renier said sourly. "There was a Parscen witchman who tried to cause trouble last year. Surete said there was a disturbance in the wards, and had some of us come with him while he tracked it to the source. We found the witchman hiding in an empty house in the Philosopher's Cross, sitting on the floor and crying like a baby. Surete said he must have tried to do a sending against someone in the palace, but the wards stopped it and followed his magic back to him and took his mind away. We knew that he tried something because he had more witch-poisons and hair amulets on him than you can imagine, but it didn't help him at all." + + Dubell's attention had gone back to Kade; his expression was worried. As well it might be, Thomas thought. Had the golem been activated by a confederate of Grandier's or by Kade herself? He nodded to Kade, who was still wandering the stage. "Did she tell you why she wanted an audience with Roland?" + + "No." Dubell was silent a moment. "Her abilities here, in the mortal world, are not as great as when she is in Fayre, and it is difficult to fatally wound her with anything other than a weapon of iron, but... It appeared the creature was attacking her?" + + "Yes," Thomas admitted. + + "I hope so, for all our sakes." + + The door to the solarium opened and one of the stewards emerged, looking harried and somewhat the worse for wear. He hesitated, then approached Thomas and Renier. He said, "His Majesty will see the sorceress now." + + Thomas said, "Good. Go and tell her." + + The steward blanched visibly. + + Thomas relented. "Very well, I'll tell her." + + As Thomas approached Kade looked up, a strange creature not at all like the child he barely remembered, or the fifteen-year-old girl in the portrait. He said, "His Majesty will see you now." + + She lifted her brows. "Will he?" + + "Yes." + + "And I thought he would be so glad to see me he'd have run out into my arms long before this." There was a bitterness underneath the light irony in her voice. + + "You were mistaken." + + "I suppose." She shrugged, abandoning repartee with a disconcerting abruptness. + + Thomas turned and walked back toward the solarium's door without looking to see if she followed. + + After a moment she caught up with him. "This isn't turning out right at all," she muttered. + + He glanced down at her. "Oh? Who did you plan for the Arlequin to kill?" + + She snorted. "You don't really believe that. And I don't know who sent it so you won't find out from me." Her mouth quirked. "Oh, was I supposed to pale and let something slip at that point? I'm sorry, I was thinking of something else." + + Thomas didn't slam the door of the solar open with any more force than necessary, and bowed her in with elaborate courtesy. + + The old solar wasn't used much, and the three huge windows covering the further wall had already been shuttered by painted panels in preparation for winter. The scene on the panels was a lurid traditional hunting landscape, subtly at odds with the other paintings on the oak-sheathed walls, the hangings of brocaded satin and striped silk, and the delicately carved furniture. Thomas remembered that this room was one of those that had been redecorated after the death of Roland's father; the painted panels reflected the old king's taste, and had probably been left unaltered by mistake. He thought Ravenna might have chosen the room for that rather than its convenience to the gallery. + + Roland was slumped in his chair in a sulk, Denzil seated beside him. Falaise's face was still a little reddened under the powder, as if she had been weeping from anger rather than hysteria. She had chestnut hair and blue eyes, and her natural prettiness had been transformed by her coiffure and costume into fashionable beauty. She wore a blue gown trimmed with gold ribbons and seed pearls, and against the somber colors of the rest of the room she looked like an orchid thrown into a dirty alley. Ravenna was the only one who appeared calm. Her hands were busy on her embroidery and she didn't look up at their arrival. + + There was a stiff silence in the room and the dregs of a bitter argument lay heavy in the air. + + Thomas realized it was his duty to announce Kade, the steward having apparently seized the opportunity to escape. Sensing that calling her "the evil fay sorceress" would probably please her no end, he said, "The Princess Katherine Fontainon," then moved to take his place at Ravenna's side. + + Kade's fair skin made her helpless against a sudden blush. + + Ravenna looked up and said, "How lovely to see you again, dear child." + + Kade curtsied in what had to be an intentionally graceless fashion. "I'm sure it's just as lovely for you as it is for me, stepmother." + + "I'm not your stepmother, dear," Ravenna reminded her calmly. "Your mother did not bother with the travesty of marriage with your father, and it would hardly have served the purpose if she had, because he was already my husband at the time. You know this, but it seems to please you to hear me repeat it." + + In a whisper plainly audible to the rest of the room, Denzil said to Roland, "Cousin, this is all too dull." + + Ravenna snapped, "Roland, send him away. This is private." + + Roland glared. "I could ask you to send your paramour away too, mother." + + In the ensuing moment of silence, Kade snickered. + + Thomas glanced briefly heavenward. Denzil looked at Roland in irritation as the implication in the unfortunate phrasing of the King's retort sunk in. + + Realizing what he had said and reddening faintly, Roland continued defiantly, "This is a family matter and he is the only one of my family who is truly fond of me." + + "What a sad thought," Kade added helpfully. "Sad, but true." + + Roland stared at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since she had entered the room. "What do you want here?" + + Kade ignored the question. She looked to Ravenna, who had gone back to her embroidery. After a moment the Dowager Queen said, "And how is your dear mother, child?" as if her prepared greeting had never been interrupted. + + Ravenna's expression was as polite as a judge passing sentence; Kade looked ironic and amused. "She's in Hell," she said. + + Ravenna's brows lifted. "Wishful thinking, certainly." + + "Oh no, she really is," Kade assured her. "We saw her go. She lost a wager." + + "My condolences," Ravenna said dryly, as the rest of the room digested that. Kade had just reminded them all of her strangeness, and Ravenna had taken the point. "Now tell us why you've come here in this unseemly fashion, as an actress of all things, bringing an enemy with you and disturbing our peace." + + "What are you more worried about, that I brought you a battle or that I was with an acting troupe? Never mind." Kade shrugged, playing with the frayed threads on the edge of her sleeve. "I have quite a few enemies; I can't help it if they follow me about. As to why I'm here..." She paced a few steps, not looking at them, hands clasped behind her back and the dingy lace of her petticoats swirling around her feet. "I just wanted to see my family, and my dear younger brother." + + The slight emphasis on the word "younger" made Roland sit up and flush. + + Kade looked from Ravenna to Roland, her gray eyes passing over the quietly watching Falaise. + + This isn't turning out right at all, she had said outside, Thomas remembered. + + Ravenna just watched her, until Kade said, "I want to make an agreement with you." + + "Was it agreement you wanted when you sent my court those cursed gifts?" Roland demanded. "How many of us have you tried to kill?" + + "Then there's the death of King Fulstan," Denzil added helpfully, before Kade could answer. "His illness was very sudden, was it not?" + + "I see no point in resurrecting either the dead, or the rumors of years past." The gaze Ravenna turned on Roland's cousin should have transformed him into stone. He only nodded politely at her. "Kade, what agreement are you--" + + Unable to contain himself, Roland interrupted, "Why would we want to deal with you, sister?" Contempt twisted his voice. "You've threatened us, ridiculed us--" + + "Threatened? Oh, what a King you are, Roland." Kade clasped her hands dramatically and said mockingly in falsetto, "Oh, help, my sister is threatening me!" She looked down at her brother, lip curled in disgust. "If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead." + + Roland was on his feet. "You think so?" he said. "When you cursed the name of our family--" + + "You mewling idiot, so did you," Kade shouted, her sarcasm abruptly giving way to rage. + + "You're lying; I never did. It was you who--" + + "Silence, both of you," Ravenna said, but something in her tone told Thomas she had rather enjoyed the argument. + + Brother and sister stared at each other a long moment. Kade's hands were at her sides, curling into fists, uncurling. + + Damn it, he's too close to her, Thomas thought. The Albon knight nearest Roland had eased forward, ready to snatch him out of his sister's reach. + + Then Roland turned away from her and threw himself down in his chair. Kade turned her back on him and walked stiffly to the other side of the room, her hands shaking. + + Into the silence Ravenna said, "You haven't said what agreement you want to make, dear." + + In a voice almost a whisper, Kade said, "You make me wish I never..." She stopped, shook her head. "Landlaw and courtlaw, stepmother. Landlaw favors the first-blooded child of the female line. That's Roland. But courtlaw favors the first-blooded child of the male ruler. That's me." Kade stopped to watch them a moment, their silence, their concentration. + + She shrugged. "Roland's little ass is planted firmly on the throne. That gives him the advantage. And you base your power on landlaw, stepmother. You founded your regency on the rights it gave you. You keep your guard by its traditions." She met Thomas's eyes a moment. He returned her gaze imperturbably. She went on, "But there are still those who think I should have been the heir." + + Without looking up from her embroidery, Ravenna said, "Do you want to be Queen, dear? When you were fifteen you said you didn't. You spat on the throne and said it was a foul thing and you wouldn't have it as a gift. And yes, there are still those who would put you on it, or at least long enough to secure the succession for a more manageable candidate." + + Kade shrugged. "It's caused you no more trouble than it has me." + + "Then what is your solution, dear?" + + "I'll sign an agreement formally giving up my claim on the throne and any Fontainon family properties. Have your counselors draw it up." She gestured eloquently at the King. "And I'll even stop 'threatening' Roland." + + Ravenna frowned. "And what do you want in return?" + + Kade was deliberately silent until Ravenna looked up at her. "The freedom of my old home," the sorceress said softly. + + "That's impossible," Roland said, his voice low and harsh. + + "Oh, it's hardly that," Kade told him. + + Ravenna still looked thoughtful. "And what has brought this change of heart about?" + + "I have my own reasons." Kade smiled thinly. "You don't have anything I want enough to make me tell you what they are." + + "But why, dear?" + + "Because I want it." + + Ravenna lifted her brows. "That isn't much of a reason." + + Kade made her a half-bow. "It's always been enough for you." + + Have to give her that one, Thomas thought. Good shot. + + Ravenna's hands paused on the fabric and she stared at Kade. Her voice hardened. "You don't know enough to judge me, Katherine." + + Kade tilted her head. "Don't I? You've always thought yourself fit to judge me. It's only fair." + + "You are young, you know nothing, and life is not fair." + + "I know enough, and life is what you make it." + + There was a pause. + + Ravenna said quietly, "If you are to stay here, there are proprieties that must be observed..." + + "No conditions. I haven't made any." Kade smiled. "It's only fair." + + The whole idea was so unlikely it took Thomas a few moments to realize that Ravenna was seriously considering it. In a low voice, he said to her, "It isn't worth it, my lady. It's too dangerous." + + "Very likely," Kade agreed, idly twisting a lock of her pale hair. + + Thomas knelt beside Ravenna's chair so he could see her face. "Don't do it." + + Ravenna looked at him, then regarded Kade for a long moment. Her opaque blue eyes betrayed no emotion. She said, "I accept your proposition, dear." + + "No," Roland said, his voice unsteady. "I forbid it." + + Ravenna turned a basilisk gaze on her son. He trembled, whether from anger or fear it was difficult to tell, but said, "I won't have her here." + + For a long moment the outcome was in doubt. Thomas realized he was holding his breath. The room was silent in suspense, as if they observed someone poised on the brink of a chasm. Even Denzil had lost his expression of detached amusement and watched the struggle in fascination. + + Then Roland's nerve broke. He pounded his fist on the chair arm and shouted, "I don't want her here! Damn you, can't you listen to me?" + + It was a retreat. A shadow crossed Denzil's face that might almost have been disappointment. Ravenna started to speak but Kade interrupted her. "Oh, come now, Roland." The sorceress smiled. "You have more to worry about than my presence here." + + He looked at her uncertainly. "What do you mean?" + + She said, "The palace wards are still in place. I felt them when I came in." She frowned thoughtfully and laid a hand flat on the marble veneer of the fireplace. She curled her fingers, drawing something out of the stone that was gray and wriggled. + + It came out with a shower of stone chips, but without leaving a hole in the mantel. Kade held it between thumb and forefinger like a boy with a rat, a spidery, boneless thing that struggled frantically. It was hard for the eyes to fix on it. "This is a frid. It's harmless. It lives in stone and eats crumbs spilled on the floor. But it shouldn't be here." + + She dropped it. It hit the hardwood floor with a splat, hopped once to reach the hearthstone, and disappeared beneath the pitted gray rock like a duck diving under water. + + "I'd say the wards aren't proof against the fay anymore. You have a problem, stepmother." Kade bowed to the room in general and was out the door before anyone could react. + + Roland leapt up and moved to stand over Ravenna's chair. "You have overreached yourself this time, mother," he said. The protest convinced no one. His face was red with thwarted anger, but he had lost his chance to defy her. + + "Have I? What would you have done, Roland?" she asked, as if not terribly concerned with his answer. + + "Arrested her!" + + "And if she didn't want to go with the guards? Power is relative, my lord." Ravenna let heat creep into her voice. "I thought I'd taught you that if nothing else. Tell me you understand." + + She looked up at him, waiting, while Roland stared at her. + + Lounging back in his chair, Denzil said, smiling, "Really, cousin, it's beneath your notice." + + Roland looked back at him. After a moment he nodded. "Perhaps you're right." He turned back to Ravenna, lips twisted with contempt. "Do what you like, mother; it doesn't concern me." + + Then Roland turned and stalked toward the door, his page scrambling to open it for him and his knights smoothly surrounding him. + + Denzil stood and bowed to Ravenna with an ironic smile. "Congratulations, my lady. Very well played." + + Ravenna looked up at him, her eyes opaque. "How old are you, Denzil?" + + "I am twenty-six, my lady." + + "And do you intend to be twenty-seven?" + + Denzil's smile widened. "I depend upon it, my lady." He bowed again and followed Roland's departing retainers. + + "What a good idea," Ravenna said to the room at large. "Why doesn't everyone go?" + + When Ravenna phrased an order as a question it was a good indication that her temper had reached the boiling point. Falaise started to speak, reconsidered, and stood up to let Gideon conduct her out. Ravenna's guards and attendants all moved hurriedly to wait for her outside. + + Thomas had started for the door when Ravenna said, "Stay here, Captain." + + Unwillingly he stopped, his back to her, waiting until the others had filed out before turning around. + + Ravenna had shoved her sewing aside and was resting her face in her hands. The flicker of light from the hearth played about the red highlights in her hair and the metallic threads in the embroidery of her gown. Without moving, she said, "Don't look at me like that." + + He folded his arms. "I am not looking at you in any particular way." + + "The hell you're not." She lifted her head and rubbed her temples. "If she had been my daughter I'd have married her off to the God-King of Parscia. Civil war would have been the least of his worries." + + Thomas gave up pretense and let her see how angry he was. He leaned on one of the flimsy rosewood tables that looked so out of place next to the blood-splashed hunting scenes that dominated the room and said, "Civil war may be the least of your worries now that you've let her in here. Before this she was taking out her revenge in small pieces, which was a damn sight better than what she could've chosen to do. Now she wants something more." + + Ravenna sat back and looked up at him. "She may well get it, whatever it is," she said seriously. "Did you see the way she dealt with me? And I think there was a moment when Roland actually forgot Denzil was in the room. She makes a fine enemy." + + "She could be a deadly enemy. She's grown now and she doesn't want a child's revenge anymore," Thomas told her. Ravenna was single-minded and ruthless in a way that would have been devastating had it not been for the lack of any sadism. She had been born to be an absolute ruler as some men were born to paint or write music. She wanted to bring Kade back into the fold, to direct the sorceress's powers and talents to her own ends. He didn't think Ravenna would understand the bitterness of wounds that had never healed. + + "A child's revenge," Ravenna said, looking into the fire. "I wish I had a child's revenge. Fulstan wore away at them, both of them. When I discovered all he had done... And I didn't realize it until he'd made my son a coward." + + Fulstan's treatment of Roland and Kade had been at its worst when Kade was fourteen and Roland twelve, at the time when Ravenna was away on the borders during the last Bisran War. Thomas had been a lieutenant then, traveling with Ravenna and the rest of the Guard. There had been no one at the palace with the courage to inform the Queen that while she was managing supply lines and browbeating her generals into cooperation, Fulstan was destroying Ile-Rien's future through its heir. Thomas had long wondered if Fulstan hadn't known exactly what he was doing. If he wasn't striking back at Ravenna in the only way open to him. God knew she had been indifferent to anything else he'd ever done. + + At this time it had also been an open secret that Thomas was Ravenna's lover. Most of his conversations with the late king had been limited to details of the execution Fulstan had planned for Thomas the day Ravenna died, or grew tired of him. He did have a gift for words. Perhaps he would have been happier as a poet than a king. + + Ravenna was saying, "Had my children been bastards I think all of us would be the happier for it." + + Thomas let his breath out, suddenly weary. "Very eloquent. Now what are you going to do about it?" + + She stood up and flung her sewing to the floor. "Sixteen years ago when I approved your appointment into my guard, I knew I was making a mistake," she shouted. + + "Probably," Thomas agreed. "And I suppose that bit of misdirection, while admirable, though not quite up to your usual standards, is the only answer I'm going to get." + + She stared at him a moment, then shook her head, her expression turning wry. "If I had an answer, I wouldn't need misdirection." After a moment of thought, she asked, "Can we trust Galen Dubell?" + + And that was that, even if he stood there and argued until he fell down dead of old age. Thomas rubbed the bridge of his nose. It wasn't the first time Ravenna had given him a headache. He said, "I think so." + + "Really?" + + "I don't think he knew she was coming here." Thomas shrugged. "But he's genuinely fond of the girl, and there are people who are going to mistake that for collusion. It would be against your best interests to be one of them." + + "Yes, we need him. Braun and his little apprentices are no good for serious work like this. The sorcerers we sent for from the Granges and Lodun haven't even reached the city yet. That's suspicious in itself. I'll tell Renier to send more messengers." Ravenna paused, her back to him, her slender form silhouetted against the light of the fire. "I want you to watch her, Thomas." + + "I gathered that," he said dryly. "I've already arranged for it." + + There was a discreet tap on the door, and Ravenna irritably called, "Enter." + + It was the steward who had made his escape from the solar earlier. He said nervously, "My lord High Minister Aviler is requesting an audience, my lady." + + "Oh, he is? Well, I'm in the mood for him, as a matter of fact. Tell him he may enter, and don't think I didn't notice when you disappeared earlier, Saisan. Let's not make a habit of that, hmm?" + + The steward bowed. "No, my lady." + + As the servant withdrew, Thomas said, "Fond as I am of Aviler, I have some things to attend to." + + "Thomas?" she said quietly. + + "Yes?" He stopped halfway to the door. + + "You're the only man I know who doesn't hate, dislike, or fear me, and it is a blessed relief simply to speak to you; did you know that?" + + Because the High Minister was already coming through the door behind him, Thomas swept off his hat in his best formal court bow and said, "My lady, it is my very great pleasure." + + * * * + + On his way back to the Guard House, Thomas took the immense circular stairwell that led up from what had been the main hall of the Old Palace two centuries earlier and now linked the wing that held the Grand Gallery with the older defensive bastions. The gray age-old stone of the banisters and the central supporting column were carved into flowing ribbons and bands that ended in the heads of gryphons, lions, and unrecognizable animals from the artisan's imagination. The lamplit twilight of the stairwell was cool, and echoed faintly with the humming activity of the rest of the palace. + + Thomas wondered what Kade Carrion the fay sorceress was doing now. + + The first time Kade had used her power against the court had been on a Saints' Day ten years ago. It was held on Midsummer Eve because combining the Church's holy days with the Old Faith's festivals made it easier for the priests to get a respectable turnout for the services, especially in the country where most of the population still considered themselves pagan. Outside, the city streets had been packed with costumed entertainers, traveling merchants, and celebrating crowds, while in the High Cathedral the bishop was saying the Saints' Day Mass before the royal court. At the culmination of the service, pandemonium had erupted. Objects levitated and smashed into walls. Candlelamps, altar vessels, and stained glass windows shattered. It had been a display of raw uncontrolled sorcerous power. + + Dr. Surete had been Court Sorcerer then, and he had immediately sensed the cause of the disturbance. It was Kade. + + Galen Dubell, who had been at court working with Surete, admitted that for most of the past two years he had been secretly teaching Kade the rudiments of sorcery. This in itself was not much of a crime. But Kade was the illegitimate daughter of the king. She was older than Roland and courtlaw gave her a claim on the throne. She was also half fay, and elements at court and in the Ministry had been advising Ravenna that Kade was dangerous almost since the girl's birth. The next day Ravenna had banished Dubell to Lodun and sent Kade out of the city to the Monelite Convent, perhaps knowing she would not long remain there. Many had wondered at the time why Ravenna had shown the daughter of her husband's mistress that much mercy, when no one in Ile-Rien except the disgraced Galen Dubell would have objected to Kade's execution. But they knew that Ravenna did everything for her own reasons, and asking for an explanation when none was offered was useless. + + In the solar, Ravenna had unintentionally said "my children" and Thomas didn't think she was including the two stillborn girls buried in the High Cathedral's crypt. Ravenna had wanted Kade to be the canny beautiful daughter she had never had, and in some ways she still wanted that. But that was exactly what that brave, daft, strange-eyed sorceress would never be. + + There was a clatter as Martin appeared on the landing above and called, "Captain?" + + "What is it?" Martin had been sent with the other Queen's guards to see that the palace was secure after the Arlequin's disturbance. Thomas suspected the expression of relief on the young man's face indicated that he was about to pass a thorny problem on to someone else. + + "Trouble, Sir," Martin said as Thomas reached him. The young guard led the way off the landing to a short pillared hall. "We just found him. It's Dr. Braun." + + On one side of the hall an oaken door stood open. Thomas followed Martin into a small room furnished as a salon which had been used as a waiting room for foreign ambassadors when the Old Hall had been an audience chamber. + + Braun lay crumpled on an eastern carpet whose rich color was distorted by his blood. He lay as if he had been sitting on the stool at the high writing desk when he had slumped to the side and fallen to the floor. + + Two more Queen's guards waited there, Castero and Baserat. Both were looking at the corpse as if trying to decide what to do with it. Thomas went past them and knelt beside the body. The carpet was soaked with blood and squished unpleasantly underfoot. Carefully he lifted the young sorcerer's head and saw that his throat had been cut. The edges of the wound were straight, not ragged. It had been done smoothly, with a very sharp knife. The body was cold and beginning to stiffen. "Who found him?" he asked. + + "I did," Martin said. "We came past this room earlier on the first quick search and missed him. You can't see the body from the door since the secretaire is in the way. When we were working our way back just now doing it thoroughly I walked all the way in and saw him." + + "He's cold, so he must have been here before that, Sir," Baserat added. + + "Yes, and he must have been killed here," Thomas agreed. The carpet was evidence enough of that. Braun had been leaving from the gallery, going back to the King's Bastion, and must have stepped into the little room to speak to someone. Someone who had come up behind him at some point during the course of the conversation and skillfully slit his throat. + + "What is this?" + + Thomas looked up to see High Minister Aviler standing in the doorway, watching them suspiciously. It wasn't surprising that the High Minister's audience with Ravenna had been a short one; in her current mood it would have been succinct, to say the least. Thomas answered, "At first glance it appears to be a dead man." + + "I realize that." Aviler stepped into the room, his long state robes brushing the floor, keeping a wary eye on the other guards. As he well might, Thomas thought, if this were really the murder in progress the man obviously half hoped it was. Martin and the others, who were probably still uncertain whether they had neglected their duty and didn't appreciate Aviler's presence as a witness to it, were no doubt helping this impression by their obvious attitudes of belligerence and guilt. + + The High Minister came to the edge of the blood-soaked carpet and stopped, frowning, as it became apparent the death was some hours old. "Braun," he said in surprise, recognizing the young sorcerer. "Who did it?" + + "That's a good question." Why? is another good question, Thomas thought, though he could guess at least part of the answer. Poor bastard. He said it wasn't important... + + Chapter Six + + THE AIR SMELLED like rain. Kade sat on the ledge of the fourth story of the North Bastion, leaning on a stone porpoise and watching the sky. The clouds were gray and heavy, though sunlight broke through in occasional patches. Across the maze of paved courts and formal gardens below were the high walls and steeply pitched roof of the Gallery Wing, more modern and airy in its design than the blocky bastion at her back. It was a cool day, and a damp breeze tore at her hair. + + She could feel the wards. They stretched from the bottom of the outer walls to a point high above the palace, forming an invisible, constantly shifting dome. Years ago Galen Dubell had shown her how to use gascoign powder made from hart's horn and crab's eyes to see the corona of light that marked their presence, and to use ash or flakes of charcoal to track their movements. Bad weather tended to push them closer to the earth; perhaps that was why they seemed to be intruding into her thoughts today. + + The frid must have slipped in through one of the naturally occurring gaps between the individual wards. If it had blundered directly into one, the harmless powerless creature would have been eaten in an instant. If the motion of the wards was slowing, then the frid--and the golem for that matter--might simply have been lucky enough to slip through. The new sorcerer Braun might have been as incompetent at tending the wards since Dr. Surete's death as he had been at defending himself from whoever killed him. Galen Dubell had only been back a day: not much time to make up lost ground with as complex an etheric structure as the wards. + + However it had gotten in, Kade was fairly sure the golem had been sent for her. She had enemies enough among the courts of Fayre, without even considering those among the mortal sorcerers. There were many fay who wanted Moire's strongholds, especially Knockma, and Kade was determined not to give them up. + + Someone moving through the garden below reminded her that she was being followed, but the passerby did not glance up. Kade had dodged the men who were watching her, though they probably knew she was somewhere in this bastion. It didn't matter; all she needed was a few moments' privacy. + + Seeing Roland and Ravenna again had stirred a whole nest of unpleasant memories. He stood there and said I cursed the name of our father, as if nothing had ever happened. As if I hadn't held him while he prayed to the Church's God for our father to die, she thought. Roland was only two years younger than she; he couldn't fail to remember. + + Fulstan had always been a frightening presence in their lives, but during Ravenna's long absences from court in the last years of the Bisran War, he had been at his worst. Kade's memories of those times were particularly vivid. The day Fulstan had beaten to death one of Roland's servants, a boy no older than the ten-year-old Prince. Gods, how can Roland forget that. Those little bones breaking... In sheer terror Roland had sent away his other young servants, and even his pages, sons of high nobility meant to grow up with him and become his companions and advisors. Fulstan had permitted this, because it had left Roland alone. + + Except for me, Kade thought. Looking back, she could see that they should have spoken to someone, that Roland could have sent a letter to Ravenna... As the daughter of the king's supernatural and despised leman, Kade had had fewer options, but neither she nor Roland had been able to believe that a world existed where help was available. + + Landlaw expected even a sovereign to be responsible for his behavior, even if courtlaw did not, but Fulstan had been careful. He had made the Cisternans his personal guard instead of the Albon Order, thereby ridding himself of the interfering presence of an Albon Preceptor. He had never done anything to Roland that would leave an outward sign. He had surrounded himself with sycophants and cronies, and he had been a terror to the palace women. + + For a long time he had been wary of Kade, perhaps half hoping, half fearing that her mother Moire would return to claim her. He had treated his daughter with contempt, reviled her, held her up to the court as an object of ridicule, but he had never touched her. Until that day of her fifteenth summer, when he had pinned her in a corner of her room and told her that as she grew older her looks were almost passable... + + The next day had been Midsummer Eve and the Saints' Day episode in the cathedral. She had been banished to the convent, and six months later Fulstan was dead. + + Kade cursed softly to herself, coming back out of the past to the cloudy day and the breeze lifting her hair. It's no good to think about it; it's over. If Roland hates you for leaving him, that's his decision. You were a prisoner escaping a cell, and you took the first chance you had. At least that was what Galen Dubell had told her, two years ago at Lodun. + + From the open window a few paces along the ledge to her left came the sound of a door squeaking open, then a moment later the muted thump of something heavy being shifted. That's Galen, Kade thought, easing herself up the wall to stand on the ledge. The servants never moved anything. + + She stepped around the elaborately figured window casement and onto the wooden sill. Galen Dubell was in a corner of his room, piling stacks of books atop a stout wooden chest. He finished and straightened his back with a sigh, turned, and saw her. "Kade." + + His expression was disturbingly neutral. She wondered at his lack of reaction. Even though she had never fallen off anything high enough to hurt herself, he hated to see her walk on ledges. She said, "I wrote and told you that I was coming back. Didn't you get the letter?" + + "No, I never received it," he said slowly. "I would have tried to dissuade you." + + "You told me I should face my anger and that would help me get rid of it. I take it this wasn't exactly what you meant." Kade spoke with a sinking heart. And she had thought her decision to return to the palace to confront her past was sensible and wise. + + "Perhaps I didn't know what I meant." He almost smiled. "Perhaps I've become too used to dealing with old men who would rather talk than act. But if this is the way you must do it, then I wish you luck." + + "But you don't want me to involve you," she said, and thought, How calmly that came out. The wooden window frame was rough against her hand and she realized she was gripping it very tightly. + + He held her gaze gravely. "That might be for the best." + + It was not what she had wanted to hear. She had wanted him to look exasperated and say, That wasn't what I meant at all, you little fool; now stop feeling sorry for yourself and come down out of that window. + + "Something is going to happen here, Kade," he was saying. "I don't know what it is yet, but I have to be free to deal with it." + + And not be banished again because of me. She said, "I know. It's someone called Grandier." + + He frowned. "What do you know about him?" + + "He tried to kill you." Kade shrugged. + + "He failed." + + She shook her head, trying to put the anger away. "The lesser fay won't even speak his name. They're more afraid of him than they are of me. The ones from the higher courts say they've never heard of him, but it's pretense. They wouldn't tell me the truth anyway." + + "He's in the city, perhaps closer than anyone realizes. Dr. Braun was killed last night. I'm certain Grandier had something to do with it, and that means he must have someone inside the wall already." Galen let out his breath, his face weary. "I could use your help, but I dare not take it. Do you understand?" + + "Yes, well, I suppose I do." She managed not to say it with too poor grace. + + He watched her carefully. "And you must give me your word that you won't harm anyone here, no matter what provocation." + + Kade couldn't look at him anymore. Her voice was more bitter than she intended. "You know I can't promise that." She slipped out of the window and began to make her way down the ledge to an unused balcony. Behind her, he called with a trace of his old exasperation, "Be careful, damn it." + + The guards spotted her again when she had reached the ground floor and was coming out of the entrance into the Rose Court. Kade picked up her skirt and bolted down one of the stone-paved paths between the rosebushes. As she reached the wall of the court, she heard heavy bodies crashing into the thorny and not-so-delicate hedges. The wall was rough and pitted and she scaled it easily. + + Reaching the top, she crouched amid the tangled vines and took a quick glance around. As she had seen from above, the area between the bastion and the high walls of the Gallery Wing was a honeycomb of intersecting gardens and courts, some old and familiar and others that were recent additions. She ran lightly along the wall, jumped to a narrower intersecting wall, and ran along its length. She heard a yelp and a crash as the vines on the first wall gave way on someone. As she spun around to look, her lace underskirt caught on a lionhead spout on the wall's rain gutter, throwing her off balance and forcing her to jump down. + + She landed heavily in a pile of raked leaves. She was in a long and irregularly shaped garden, with a clipped lawn and overflowing flower borders, most of it rambling out of sight behind the wall and sheltering hedges. + + Kade got to her feet and strolled toward the mossy fountain just around the curve of the wall, prepared to be mildly amused when they caught up with her. + + In the fountain, water spouted from pitchers in the hands of stone nymphs. Kade wriggled her toes in the cool grass. The garden widened out from this point on, becoming larger and more grand than she had first supposed. In the wide area of lawn were yew bushes shaped into a scaled-down battlement with towers half-circling a large round mosaic of a massive sundial. Distracted, it was moments before her eyes focused on the man and the woman seated on a bench beneath a honeysuckle arbor only a few yards from her; the play of the fountain had covered their voices. It was Queen Falaise and Denzil. + + Falaise saw Kade at almost the same moment. She stood, jerking her hand free of Denzil's grasp, and hurried toward her. Kade, who was more used to catching people unawares than being caught, stood there and stared. + + The Queen stopped a few feet from her, said uncertainly, "My lady Katherine...ah, Kade?" She wore a dress of rose and pearl and was clutching a small book in a white-knuckled grasp. like most aristocratic women would have been, she was out of breath from the exertion of walking quickly across the garden. Falaise hadn't been crying, but there was something stricken in her blue eyes that amounted to the same thing. + + Kade felt herself looking stupid. She said, "Yes?" hoping to provoke an explanation. + + A little desperately, Falaise said, "We had an appointment." + + Kade realized that the Queen was not seeing her as a sorceress or as her husband's mad sister, but only as another woman. "An appointment," she repeated helpfully, nodding. + + Denzil reached them and caught Falaise's arm again. The Queen flinched and dropped her book, which barely missed the fountain. Kade stooped immediately to rescue it from the damp ground. + + Denzil said, "Another appointment, my lady?" His smile was confident and amused. A brief glow of sunlight breaking through the cloudy sky touched his blond hair, the powder blue of has doublet, the gems ornamenting his sword. He and Falaise made a beautiful couple. + + Falaise hesitated. "Yes, I..." + + "I was late," Kade said, brushing dirt off the little book's sheepskin binding. + + "Yes, she was," Falaise agreed instantly. She stepped away from Denzil, the movement stiff and awkward. + + He chuckled and bowed slightly to make the point that he was allowing her to escape. "Then I'll leave you to your appointment." + + His arrogance was too obvious for Kade to leave well enough alone. "Do that," she said. + + Amused and ironic, he met her eyes and bowed. "My lady." + + They watched him cross the garden toward the gate behind the hedges. Kade didn't know Denzil very well. He had been presented to court shortly before she had left. He had attached himself to Roland shortly thereafter. + + There was nothing she hated more than people who didn't take her seriously. + + Falaise sat down on the edge of the fountain, heedless of what the moss would do to her silk damask skirts. + + This near to the Queen, Kade was suddenly conscious that the climb on the bastion's ledge and her fall into the leaves hadn't done her dress any good. But her grubbiness was bound to aggravate Ravenna, and she resolved to let her clothing degenerate as far as modesty allowed. "Where are your guards?" she asked Falaise. + + Falaise shook her head slightly. "This is my private garden. When I give audiences here they wait beside the gate. I bribed my ladies to go down to the grotto." + + "Why didn't you call them back?" + + "That wouldn't do any good." Her face was bleak, + + Falaise had the calm of someone who has been miserable for a long time and expects to go on being miserable. Kade + + Shifted uneasily. "It's difficult for someone to make advances when there are a lot of men standing around looking at him as if they want to kill him. They're Queen's guards; even Roland can't order them away when they're protecting you." + + Falaise looked away wearily, the wind playing with her curls and ribbons. "It isn't that sort of advances." + + "It doesn't matter what sort of advances. It always worked for Ravenna's ladies when..." When my father... "when they needed it," she finished, but Falaise didn't notice the lapse. + + "He wouldn't let me call them." + + Kade snorted. "Do it anyway." + + "It's easy for you to say." Falaise gestured helplessly, the puffed sleeves of her gown almost hiding the movement. + + Kade watched her a moment, then sat on the fountain rim beside her. "Not always." + + But Falaise opened the book on her lap and turned the pages distractedly. By craning her neck Kade could see it was written instead of printed, and by a hand not as fine as a professional clerk's. Poetry, she guessed, and it would hardly be from Roland. Falaise slammed the book closed and said abruptly, "What do I call you, Katherine or Kade?" + + "Kade." + + "Kade. Did you ever turn yourself into a bird?" Her expression was wistful. + + Kade lifted her brows. "I thought about it, but I decided I wanted to live." It came to her that Falaise wasn't really much of a coward. Denzil must have browbeaten her thoroughly. Possibly most men in authority over her had browbeaten her thoroughly. "Human sorcerers can't shape-change, not if they ever want to turn back into themselves. Most fay can, but I never had to badly enough to make the experiment. " + + "That's a shame." Falaise fingered the book again. "It would be wonderful to just turn into something and fly away." + + They sat in the quiet a moment, with not even birds to interrupt the fountain's bubbling. Then Kade remembered something and asked her, "What did you mean when you said Denzil wasn't making that sort of--" + + A man came running around one of the yew hedges toward them. He threw himself at Falaise s feet so enthusiastically Kade had to scramble out of the way to avoid being tumbled into the fountain. + + More graceful than the sorceress, Falaise kept her balance and said in exasperation, "Aristofan, please--" + + The young man kneeling at her feet was handsome with russet hair and eager brown eyes. He was dressed for court in blue and gray and had lost his feathered hat in his run across the lawn. "It was him, wasn't it? That was why you didn't want me to come to you today. You must tell me what he wants from you." + + Kade looked down at herself to make sure she hadn't inadvertently faded from sight. + + "No, I can't, I told you." Falaise spoke firmly, but then she stroked his hair. "Really, it's all right." + + "Don't mind me," Kade said. "I'll just stand over here, shall I?" + + Aristofan clasped the Queen's hand ardently. "Don't you trust me? I'd do anything for you." + + Falaise smiled fondly. "Sometimes I almost think you would." + + One of the men following Kade appeared at the top of the wall, spotted her, and waved back to his companions. "Well," Kade said, "I have to leave before they decide I'm holding you prisoner and roll in a couple of cannon." + + "Please." Falaise looked up at her. "You won't say anything?" + + "I don't know anything." Kade started away, then stopped and looked back at the other woman. "If you're going to tell someone, tell Ravenna." + + Falaise looked down at Aristofan's head, her expression drawn and troubled. + + To avoid Falaise's guards, Kade left the garden by going over the wall behind the battlement hedge. She was still not quite ready to be followed again, and she rejoined the path that led away from the Queen's garden only when she was out of sight of the garden gates. The path wandered past walled herb gardens then abruptly opened out to the paved area below the terraces of the Gallery Wing. The smooth stone of the Gallery Wing's walls was butter colored and would glow like gold in the full sunlight. She climbed the steps and walked along the terrace, looked at the view of the rolling lawn, the trees, and the artificial temple ruins, and wondered about Galen Dubell. + + I'm not going to sit like a lump while he fights this Bisran bastard Grandier single-handed. Does he honestly expect me to do that? No, he couldn't, she decided. It was incredible. If she were going to behave in that ridiculous fashion to one of the few friends she had, then she might as well have stayed in the convent and saved years of trouble. Galen isn't an idiot. Grandier trapped him once; he might do it again. He knows he needs help; he just can't ask for it. + + She stopped, drew a toe meditatively over a pattern in the paving stone. She was tired of being followed. + + Kade closed her eyes and pulled glamour out of the damp air and the dew on the grass, wove it with the afternoon sunlight filtered through the clouds, and drew it over herself like a concealing blanket. If anyone saw her she would appear as another courtier, a servant, whatever they expected to see. + + She would help Dubell, and she had an inkling of how to go about it. + + * * * + + "Well, that's been a waste of time," Thomas told Lucas. + + They had just finished questioning the last of Dr. Braun's apprentices and servants and had elicited nothing but a tearful confession from the sixty-year-old chamberlain about a few pennies' worth of misappropriated household funds. + + During the questioning, Lucas had been entertaining himself by flipping a small boot dagger from hand to hand, and now he sent it into the table with a thud. "So, who killed the poor bastard? The chamberlain?" + + The room was damp and too warm, despite the open window. Thomas stood up from the table piled with papers and moved restlessly to the room's little balcony, unbuttoning the top of his doublet. From here he could look down onto the hall where servants wandered, off-duty guards gathered, and the main life of the Queen's Guard House was concentrated. He leaned against the rough pillar in the corner of the balcony and said, "He's too short. Braun was sitting at a clerk's writing desk and the stool was a foot or so taller than an ordinary chair. Whoever cut the good doctor's throat was at least my height. The way that old man's back is bent he'd never have been able to reach him." + + On the stone-paved floor of the hall below, some of the men had discarded their doublets to practice swordplay on wooden targets and one another. Constant work was required to keep in top form for the real duels, which usually lasted no more than a few moments, depending on the relative skill of the opponents, and often ended with a death or a crippling. All used their regular dueling swords rather than the blunt-tipped weapons often employed for practice, and it was only due to the skill of the combatants that so little blood was being shed. There were not as many men off-duty as usual; all the guardposts and duty shifts had been doubled since last night. + + All this morning Thomas had noted a tension on the wind that hadn't been there yesterday. Everyone knew the danger of dark and deserted places, but the palace had always been safe ground from any but human opponents. Two Cisternan guards had been sent back to their families in boxes today, the first casualties in a new and uncertain war. The rest of the court had also finally bothered to notice the danger, and today there were complaints, mild hysteria, and loud questions about why someone wasn't doing something. + + "If you're going to be clever about it, we won't be able to arrest anyone," Lucas pointed out. + + The pillar Thomas leaned against still bore the nine-year-old bullet hole that had signaled the end of his predecessor's career. He picked at the splintered area thoughtfully and said, "We're looking for a throat-slitter who takes an unprepared man from behind but who still scruples at robbery." Braun had been wearing a respectable amount of court jewelry, including a diamond-studded presentation medal from Lodun and several gemstones given to him by past wealthy patrons. All had been left on the body. "That eliminates most of the servants but certainly throws suspicion on every member of the nobility in the palace. And Grandier." + + Lucas tipped his chair back against the yellowed plaster wall. "Always Grandier. What did Braun have that Grandier would want to kill him for?" + + "Information." And thinking of information, Thomas wished the clerks would hurry with the translation of the documents chronicling Grandier's trial in Bisra. They knew so little about the man, and he wanted to take advantage of every resource, no matter how sparse it might be. + + Lucas nodded. "You think Braun saw something someone preferred he didn't..." + + "Or remembered something. He tried to talk to me last night but we were interrupted by Denzil." + + "Coincidence?" Lucas lifted his brows in speculation. + + Thomas glanced back at him. "Which coincidence? Braun wanting to tell me something or Denzil interrupting at the opportune moment?" + + "We're not going to get anywhere if you keep inventing new questions." Lucas glanced briefly toward the window, which opened onto the narrow alley between the house and the stone wall of the old armory. "Half the palace is saying that it was the sorceress." + + "Not a bad suggestion, except she was already in the gallery performing bad Commedia in front of everyone who matters in the city when I saw Braun alive. The body was long cold by the time she left." Thomas shook his head. She was also too short. "Today she lost her guards in the Queen's garden. One of them reported it an hour ago." + + "What was she doing there?" + + "Talking to the Queen, apparently." + + "Odd." Lucas frowned, looking puzzled at the idea that anyone might want to talk to Falaise. Possibly because they were all so used to discounting her influence, it was hard to remember that she had any power in her own right at all. "What's going to come of that, do you think?" + + "Not much." Thomas smiled. "They can't banish Falaise." + + Lucas was silent a moment, watching Thomas. "Your great friend High Minister Aviler is implying it was a Queen's guard." + + Thomas's lips twisted in annoyance. "What a helpful suggestion. How in hell did he come up with it?" + + Lucas shrugged uneasily. "The usual way. There was some loud muttering about Braun, some of the men blaming him for his incompetence when you were trying to get Galen Dubell out of Grandier's house. Braun was never half the help old Dr. Surete was." + + "So one of them takes it on himself to remove the irritant? It's unlikely." But Gideon had said something about Braun last night. And Lucas clearly believed it was a possibility, though he wouldn't say it outright. + + Thomas was struck by an unpleasant image. Braun, unable to find Thomas in the crowded gallery, stopping a faceless Queen's guard on a deserted stair. Asking him to take a message to his captain, stepping into a quiet parlor to use the writing desk... But Thomas had always seen Braun as a pitiable figure, and the young sorcerer had been coldly eliminated in a way that didn't agree with the theory of a guard murdering him in sudden anger. Then again, Braun was a sorcerer and would surely have had some means of defending himself; he would almost have to be taken from behind... + + The door creaked as a servant opened it to usher in Ephraim, the ragged ballad-seller and professional spy. + + "Good news?" Thomas asked as the old man grinned and bowed to both of them. + + Ephraim pulled off his cloth cap and began to knead it conversationally. "In a manner of speaking, Sir. It's quite a tale. The Gambin lad's dead, you see." + + If he had his throat slit around the same time as Braun did, I'm going to retire, Thomas thought, and kept the surprise off his face. "What happened?" + + "From the beginning it was that a couple of my own boys followed Gambin to see if he would lead us to the fellow who hired him, and he led them a merry way, Sir, but he ended up back at the palace quarter and entered Lord Lestrac's house." Ephraim hesitated. Not from trepidation, but more as if he were still trying to sort things out in his own mind. "After a bit he came out, and the boys followed Gambin on a wandering way back to his home ground, and waited outside his house, as they hadn't any instructions to do otherwise. Before dawn this morning a young woman arrives, and she goes in and starts to scream. The boys figured they should go in and see what the matter was, and as Gambin didn't know either of them they could say they were passersby. Well, they didn't have to say much at all, because Gambin was dead, you see, without a mark on him. + + "When I got there I sent for a lady who lives down in the Philosopher's Cross and knows a bit about these things, and in her opinion it had the look of a wicked sending about it, though I never heard of Gambin to trouble with sorcerers before. She said it was most likely in something he was given, some token, that was enspelled to murder the lad whenever the master was finished and didn't want the likes of anyone asking questions. It cost extra for her to search for the token, and I thought you'd want your own people to do that, so I locked up the house and came on here." + + "You've done your best," Thomas told him, preoccupied. This was another piece in the puzzle. And it was a damn good thing he had set Ephraim on this job; without him, it might have been days before news of Gambin's death reached Thomas, and the evidence of sorcery in the killing might have been gone by then. "Tell them to get you a drink, and the Paymaster has your fee." + + Ephraim's bow was unpolished but sincere. "Oh, that's very good of you, Captain." + + When the spy had left, Lucas grimaced. "Well, well. Lord Lestrac is our nameless letter-forger, and Gambin is silenced the same way you think Dr. Surete and Milam were. Another connection to Grandier?" + + "Maybe." The attempt with the letters was the sort of unsubtle ineffective trick Denzil's friends were famous for in their attempts to please him, and of which the Duke unconcernedly let them suffer the consequences. "It almost seems as if there are two different men, or factions, at work. Grandier with his sorcery, and then someone else plaguing us with little distractions. Gambin was hired by the second man, and when he was compromised, Grandier killed him." + + "If they're working together. They might not be." Lucas worked his dagger out of the table, frowning at it. "There's no way to tell." + + Thomas bit his lip thoughtfully, considering his options. He said, "I want you to send men to search Gambin's house and pick up the body; I'll want an opinion on it from Dubell." + + "How lovely for him," Lucas said dryly, getting to his feet. "You know, if I'm not mistaken, Lestrac is also a friend of Denzil's. I think the good Duke of Alsene maintains that house for him." + + "He does. And it was searched by the King's Watch about two days ago. They didn't discover anything." Lestrac's house was one of a group of manses for royal dependents that were built up against the outside of the palace's west wall. Lestrac was a landless dissipated young nobleman, useful occasionally as a tool for Denzil but not much else. He had never been implicated in one of Denzil's plots deeply enough to send him to the traitors' graves outside the city, but he assisted Roland's cousin in the spreading of rumors and lies. Thinking it over, Thomas shook his head. "Even if we did connect a friend of Denzil's to Grandier, it won't prove anything to Roland. To convince him we'd have to catch Denzil standing over the royal bed with a drawn sword, and even then I'm not sure he'd believe it." + + "Lestrac was supposed to have dabbled in black magic in his wilder days, and bargained with demons, like Grandier. The letters might have been his own idea, and he could have killed Gambin himself," Lucas pointed out. + + Thomas wasn't convinced. "I heard he dabbled, but I never heard he dabbled all that successfully. Finding the token should settle it. Have them be especially careful of anything valuable on Gambin's body. If I were Grandier, I would have put the spell on the payment that was given him." He paused. "I'll see Lestrac myself." + + Lucas frowned. "Will you take Dubell with you?" + + Thomas shook his head. "He's still a target for Grandier and I'm not sure I want to risk him. He may be the only protection the palace has." + + Lucas eyed him, not happily. "So you go to Lestrac's house where Grandier is hiding and he kills you because Galen Dubell is safe back here. Does that make sense?" + + Thomas had to concede the point. "It's not a perfect plan, I'll admit. I'll take one of Braun's apprentices. They aren't completely useless." + + "Or take me." + + Kade Carrion was sitting in the window, perfectly composed, the ragged hem of her dress tucked under her feet. How she had gotten there without either one of them hearing her was incredible; from her attitude she might have been there for the past hour. + + "What are you doing here?" Lucas asked, so startled he dropped a hand to his sword. + + Her look said she suspected his sanity. "Listening. Next you'll ask me how much I heard, to which I'll very likely reply 'enough.' Can't we dispense with all that?" + + Lucas looked at his captain and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Thomas shook his head minutely, and asked Kade, "Take you where?" + + She made an impatient gesture. "To what's-his-name's house where you think Grandier is." + + Thomas leaned back against the pillar and folded his arms. "Why do you want to go?" + + She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'm offering to help." + + "And in such a touching and spontaneous way. If I refuse your help?" + + She appeared to seriously consider the question. "I might follow anyway. I'm good at that. Or not. I might do a lot of things; the day is young." + + This was ominous. "And I'm expected to trust you?" + + Apparently outraged, she sat up straight against the window casement and said, "I gave my word." + + "No, you did not." Thomas was fairly certain he would have recalled that. + + "I did." + + "When?" + + He saw her hesitate, then she gave in and grinned. She said, "So I didn't. Come on, you know you want me to go. I'm lucky." + + "Lucky for whom?" Lucas muttered. + + "This isn't a game," Thomas said, wary. She had her own brand of charm, that was certain. And Thomas realized that even against his will he was tempted by that charm. Because she's different, or because she's dangerous? he asked himself, irritated. Stop being ridiculous and concentrate. "You've said you want to help, but you haven't told me why. And you haven't been terribly helpful in the past." + + "The past is the past." Kade tilted her head to one side, watching him with those very direct eyes. "Grandier would have killed Galen Dubell, who is my oldest friend." She finished lightly, "I can't have that, can I?" + + Trusting her was a decided risk, but if Grandier was in that house, or had been there and left more traps, Kade would be their best hope. And so far Thomas had come across nothing to suggest that she was the Bisran sorcerer's ally. And this is certainly one way to find her out if she is. He said, "Very well." + + Chapter Seven + + THE HOUSES THAT clustered against the palace's west wall presented blank stone faades to the public, most of their life and wealth turned inward. The clouds had closed up overhead and a light rain had started, settling the dust and washing away the habitual stench of the street, preparing to turn it into a river of mud. Street vendors who sold ribbons, trinkets, foodstuffs, and amulets to protect against night-dwelling fay were gathered in damp clumps around the pillars of the promenade that faced the line of houses. Coaches splashed by, trying to reach their destinations before the storm started in earnest; few of the wealthier residents were abroad at this hour, and most had retreated into the rich shops further under the sheltering roof of the promenade. The street was mostly unobserved, for which Thomas was glad. He hated an audience for this sort of work. + + Lestrac's house was four stories topped by a steeply pitched red tile roof, set between the towering residence of a ship owner and the winter home of a minor noble. + + Rain dripping off his hat, Thomas stepped back to look up at the barred windows while Castero banged on the door. Another Queen's guard tried the double carriage doors while the others spread out in front of the house and attempted to look innocuous. There was no back alley and no other exit. He had brought twenty men, which was overkill if this was Lestrac's own plot. If Grandier himself was in there despite the earlier search by the King's Watch, the entire troop might not be enough. + + There was no answer at the door. Thomas started to tell Castero to break it in when he glanced down and found Kade Carrion at his elbow. The water that was beading on his dark cloak was dripping from her hair and her dingy red dress. She had appeared so suddenly it was possible that she had simply risen out of the mud. She had been investigating the street on her own, wandering about in a random fashion and poking around doorways. "There's someone in there," she said positively. + + Thomas eyed her. "Is it warded?" + + She stared at the door, brows drawn down in concentration. "No. It should be." + + "Open it," Thomas told Castero. + + The guard drew his pistol and used the heavy butt to pound the lock. The wood around it cracked and Castero used his shoulder. As he struck the door it swung backward and came off its hinges. + + Kade slipped past Thomas almost before the door gave way. As she ducked inside Castero jumped back and muttered, "Pardon me." + + If it's a trap, she's determined to spring it first. Thomas signaled Baserat and another two guards to stand watch outside and followed her, drawing his rapier. + + Inside was a high-ceilinged area with a stone staircase curving up the wall to the second-floor entrance. The floor was stone paved, and a black coach with polished brass fittings stood in front of the carriage doors. Light came in through high narrow windows in the outside wall. There was stabling beneath the stairs, and Thomas nodded for one of his men to investigate it. + + Kade was halfway up the steps. Thomas called to her, "Give us a moment, please." She threw her arms up in exasperation, but stopped, tapping her foot impatiently. + + The guard flushed a couple of frightened grooms out of the stalls where they had been attempting to hide. From the number of horses stabled there, Lestrac was indeed home and entertaining. + + Thomas put two more men to watch the servants and to keep any fugitives from escaping behind them, then headed toward the stairs, the others following him. Kade was off again as soon as he started up. Behind him, Castero whispered, "Captain, should we let her go first? I mean, she is a woman." + + "Presumably she knows that," Thomas told him. + + At the top of the steps, just before the wooden doors, Kade stopped them with an outflung arm. After a moment of intense study of the dirty stone of the landing, she tore a scrap of cloth from her skirt hem, licked it, and stooped to rub it over some invisible spot on the flagstones. Something came away bright blue, and Kade flicked the cloth over the edge of the landing. + + "A ward, but it wasn't working anymore. It was old," she admitted, and stepped up to push the door open. + + It was the first room of a suite of salons, the dying embers in the hearth revealing landscape paintings, papered walls, heavy oak cabinets, and brocaded chairs. Sprawled around on the fine furnishings and all drunk into unconsciousness were three young men Thomas recognized as sprigs of nobility and two women whose elaborate and revealing costumes proclaimed them upper-class bawds. A bottle had broken on the floor and wine had seeped into the carpet. From the smell, they had been lacing the stuff with syrup of poppies. Some of the candles were still lit, their holders half-buried under bizarre shapes of dripped wax. + + "We've interrupted a party," Thomas told Castero, who grinned, and tipped one of the unconscious young men off a couch. + + "A dull one," Kade said, looking around with a puzzled expression. + + Thomas considered her a moment, suddenly recalling that she was a member of the royal family and had spent some of her youth in a convent, then decided to let it go. If he had known Lestrac was going to be hosting an orgy, he would have reconsidered allowing Kade to accompany them into the upstairs rooms, but he was damned if he was going to say anything about it now. + + "A livelier brood in here, Captain," one of the guards called from ahead, and Thomas followed him into the next room. + + There were five of them in a central parlor, and they had leapt up from a card table, overturning their chairs, fumbling clumsily for swords. They were all drunk, though not quite to the advanced stage of their companions in the other room. "What is this?" one of them demanded muzzily. Thomas thought he might be the second son of the Count of Belennier, though he wasn't certain. He ignored the question and nodded to the guard who was covering them with a pistol, who immediately said, "Drop your swords, gentlemen." + + While they disarmed, Thomas quietly told Castero, "Leave a few men down here to watch this lot, and take the others on ahead to search the rest of the house. Lestrac is the one I want." + + "What about me?" Kade whispered, standing at his elbow again. + + "You go with him," Thomas snapped. + + "Why?" + + "You're here to spring sorcerous traps, not to stand about and be entertained by me." + + "Oh. My mistake." She didn't sound particularly chastened, but she followed Castero and the others. + + Turning back to the group held at bay, Thomas suddenly recognized what he had thought at first to be a completely unfamiliar face. It was the dark-haired stranger he had seen with Denzil at the disastrous court last night. There was nothing unusual about him; he had the same pale bedraggled look as the others, the early lines on his face that came from too much drinking. But there was something about his eyes... Guarding a queen of stubborn and definite opinions in the crowded courts had made Thomas preternaturally sensitive, and people who were hiding something usually betrayed it in some way, either in look or gesture or simply by the way they stood. This man was hiding something. + + The object under scrutiny seemed to realize he was being watched, and swayed a little against the table. Thomas smiled to himself. He's also not as drunk as he's pretending. "Where's Lestrac?" Thomas asked the group in general. + + "He's about somewhere," answered the second son of the Count of Belennier, who seemed to have elected himself the spokesman. "You'll pay for this, forcing your way into a gentleman's house--" + + "I'll discuss that with the gentleman in question." + + "Well, he's about somewhere." The young man stared around blearily, as if expecting Lestrac to suddenly appear. + + "How long have you been here?" + + "Oh, all day." Recalling he was outraged, he protested, "And you've no right to question us, if it's Lestrac you're after." + + And he's about somewhere. That would be all Thomas could get out of them until he actually produced Lestrac, but the chances were they hadn't been here yesterday when Gambin had visited the house. At least, if Lestrac had any sense at all they wouldn't have been here. + + "Don't let them talk to each other," Thomas told the guard with the pistol, and moved on after the others. + + They went from one well-appointed room to another and up the central staircase to the third floor, the guards spreading out to search more thoroughly as Kade flitted before them checking for magical traps. + + After a short while, it became apparent that the only inhabitants were those they had already discovered and that Lord Lestrac was nowhere to be found. Thomas and Castero met back in a central parlor on the second floor. + + "He must be on the run, Captain." The young guard absently kicked a chair. + + "Unfortunately." Thomas looked around, one eyebrow lifted in an ironic appraisal of the empty room. It seemed clear. Lestrac had used Gambin in a minor plot against Thomas. When it failed to have the expected result, Lestrac had panicked, used magic to dispose of Gambin, and fled. "How very neat and tidy." The other guests had been herded into the next salon under guard. A few had families influential enough that they would have to be released, but Thomas hated to do it before he knew where Lestrac had gone. Each one was a potential accomplice. + + Kade wandered into the room from the stairwell. She looked around, apparently in a state of deep consternation. "It's here. I don't know what, but it's here. And it's not." She moved around the room, touching things, stooping to look under the furniture. + + Madwoman, Thomas thought. But the longer he was in the house the more suspicious it seemed to him. There was more here than appeared, or something out of place, and he wasn't willing to leave until he found what it was. + + Kade straightened suddenly. Her examination of the parlor had led her to the far wall. "How many rooms on this floor?" + + Castero stared at her. "Nine." + + "Eleven upstairs." Thomas saw what she was getting at, and suddenly realized what was wrong about the place. It was the position of the stairwell in relation to the second floor. He went to stand beside the sorceress and ran a hand across the paneled wall. "Look at the way the top of this meets the ceiling. It's a false wall. There must be a moving panel or--" + + Kade said, "No, not a panel." She placed a palm on the center of the wall and leaned in, whispering to it. Thomas stepped back as the shape of a door slowly formed out of the dark wood, as if a sculptor were molding it out of clay. Grinning with triumph, Kade stepped back as it solidified. + + As she was reaching for the handle, Thomas caught a handful of her tattered smock and hauled her out of the way. He stepped to one side of the door, motioning for Castero to take the other. Castero stepped hastily into position, winding his pistol. At Thomas's elbow, Kade was silently bouncing with excitement. + + Thomas twisted the handle and flung the door open. + + It was a banqueting room with a long table and sideboards, lit by a dripping candelabrum and chandeliers. There was a man seated at the end of the table, slumped over forward. + + Thomas advanced cautiously toward him. There was a half-empty wine bottle on the table, two more on the floor beneath it. + + Thomas used a handful of the man's unkempt blond hair to pull him upright. It was Lestrac. The lean, dissipated features were slack and sickly red. His eyes didn't focus, and the pupils were so wide they seemed to cover most of the white. His breath was quick and panting, as if he were running for his life. It's poison, Thomas realized. Belladonna or henbane, something that the Aderassi are always using to put each other out of the way. Holding the young lord up, he could feel his burning skin. "Who did this to you, Lestrac? Was it Grandier?" + + The dying eyes seemed finally to focus. "No, no, not him..." Lestrac shuddered weakly, the effort of speaking almost too much. + + "But you know him. Was he here?" + + "No, he's... He told me he'd teach...power. I should have known." + + "Where is he now?" + + "It was Dontane, on Grandier's orders," Lestrac said suddenly, his voice growing stronger. He made a convulsive movement and caught the front of Thomas's doublet "Captain Boniface, you've got to get that bastard Dontane." + + Lestrac started to slide out of the chair and Thomas caught him and shoved him back. The nobleman's head lolled and his eyes were wide open and staring, though he still breathed. Thomas let him go and stepped back. That was it, Lestrac would stay like this, impossible to wake, until he died in a few hours. But they've made a mistake, perhaps their first, Thomas thought. Someone, perhaps Lestrac himself when he hired Gambin, had acted out of turn, revealing that Grandier had the help of others who could come and go inside the palace. And if Denzil Isn't involved somehow... He told Castero, "Send someone for the men from the gate watch. We're going to tear this place apart." + + As Castero left, Kade did a quick circuit of the room, checking the walls for more concealed doors. Watching her, Thomas knew that at least to some extent she was enjoying herself, and that she certainly didn't give a damn for the fact that Lestrac had all but expired a few moments ago. He didn't know why that should bother him, since he didn't care either and knew that if even half of what he suspected was true, Lestrac would have been executed anyway. And to some extent he was also enjoying himself. Perhaps her reaction annoyed him because it was so much in tune with his own. + + Kade had drifted back to the table and now took the wine bottle and emptied the last of its contents onto the polished surface. She stirred the pool twice with a finger and stared into it intently. + + Unwilling to ask, Thomas stepped up behind her to see what she was doing. + + Without looking up, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. Before he could pull away, he saw a shadow come over the wine pool and something move within it. It was a man. At first the image was shifting and muddy like a poor mirror, but abruptly it cleared, revealing the face of the man in the other room, the man who had been with Denzil at court last night. + + Kade said quietly, "I thought so. He was in here, and they fought, or at least argued. Violent emotions always make the strongest impressions." + + She let Thomas go and he stepped back, and the pool became only spilled wine again. He hadn't realized until then how the sounds of his men searching the next room and the occasional drunken protests of Lestrac's friends had temporarily faded as the picture appeared in the pool. "Is he a sorcerer? Did he conceal the door?" + + "Maybe. But that one might have done it, too." She nodded toward Lestrac's still form. "You said he knew some of the art, and it wasn't a very powerful illusion, though it was tricky." + + Thomas nodded to himself. "He brought Dontane in here, Dontane killed him, then walked out through the unconcealed door on this side. He stayed with the others to make sure Lestrac didn't come staggering out gasping accusations. He must have known how long it would take to die from the stuff. Any later and we would have missed him." + + Kade looked thoughtful, then turned for the door, remarking pointedly, "Well, I'm certainly glad I bothered to come." + + After considering Lestrac's slumped body a moment more, he followed her. + + Later, Thomas had the guards carry Lestrac out past the group gathered in the parlor. Leaning on the billiard table, which was extravagantly covered in green velvet and lit by candleholders mounted on its raised sides, he watched the nobles react with varied degrees of befuddled shock. Including Dontane, whose reaction was perfectly in keeping with the rest. + + "When do we carry out this lot, Captain?" Castero asked. + + "Now. Take them to the Cisternan Guard House for the present" He touched one of the silver bells fitted above the billiard table's goal. "All except Dontane." + + Dontane looked up, but if he was startled he concealed it well. As Castero and the other guards herded Lestrac's guests out, Thomas waited patiently. When they were gone, that left Dontane, three watchful guards at the door, and Kade, who was sitting on top of a sideboard and swinging her feet. As Thomas looked at her and started to speak, she announced, "I've been a help, and shown quite a bit of restraint, and I think I should be allowed to stay and watch." + + It was harder than Thomas would've thought to conceal his smile. He said, "Well put." + + Watching them with contempt, Dontane said, "I assume there is some reason for my being singled out." He swayed slightly and steadied himself on a chair. + + "You assume correctly." Thomas watched him a moment more, wondering how long the playacting would last. "How long have you known Lord Lestrac?" + + "Not long. But I am a friend of the Duke of Alsene." + + "That puts you in the minority, then, because no one else here is." It would have been foolish to deny the connection; Dontane must realize he would've been seen at court last night. And why attend court at all, except to activate the golem so it could attack a certain sorceress. Thomas folded his arms, deciding on a more direct attack. "I know you poisoned Lestrac." + + Dontane drew himself up. "That is an insult, and I will challenge you for it." He stiffened resentfully as one of the guards at the door chuckled. + + The man was certainly presenting a good performance of a foolish young noble. Thomas said, "You were in that room with Lestrac. Were you discussing a spy named Gambin, perhaps?" + + "I don't know what you're talking about." + + "He's lying," Kade interrupted. + + "Yes, thank you, I know," Thomas told her patiently. + + "I suppose I should be flattered that you find it necessary to have your pet witch here to deal with me," Dontane sneered. But he had lost a little of his pretense of drunken nonchalance. Thomas thought Kade's presence was making the man uneasy. As well it might. + + "'Pet witch.' I like that," Kade said, apparently addressing the blue faience vase sitting next to her on the sideboard. "I'm going to put a curse on him." + + "If you can't be quiet you'll have to leave, pet," Thomas said. + + Kade turned a look of narrow-eyed reproach on him, then regarded Dontane with so much sly malice it had to be artificial. + + Thomas studied him thoughtfully a moment, then asked, "Are you a sorcerer?" + + Dontane's expression was calm. "I am not." + + "Then are you a dabbler in magic, like Lestrac?" He hadn't forgotten the young lord's last words: he said he'd teach power. If one had a taste of power, enough to hide a door by illusion, or to witch a useless spy dead, the temptation to learn more at the hands of a master like Grandier might be overwhelming. + + "No, I am not," Dontane said, looking away in disgust. + + Had he hesitated, deciding how to answer? "Is he a sorcerer?" Thomas asked Kade. + + She dug a moment in the pocket of her smock, and when she drew her hand out her fingers were covered with a dark powdery substance. She touched her forefinger carefully to the corner of each eye, then looked up at Dontane. + + He smiled, scornfully. "Well, witch?" + + She held his eyes a moment, then said, "I think he knew what I was doing." + + Dontane snorted derision and looked away. Watching him carefully, Thomas asked, "And what was that?" + + "Putting gascoign powder in my eyes. If he had been using a spell, or if there had been a spell on him, I would see it. It doesn't prove he isn't a sorcerer." + + Dontane smiled. "Alchemical powders are hardly a secret." + + "Maybe," Thomas agreed. He had heard of gascoign powder as well, but that explanation for Kade's actions hadn't immediately leapt to mind. If Dontane wasn't trained in the craft of sorcery, he had at least been much around those who were. "Where's Grandier keeping himself these days?" + + "Who? I don't know the name." It was said admirably, with just the right amount of confusion. + + Thomas smiled. "Then you must have been under a bushel. Everyone else knows it" After Dr. Braun's murder, rumor had spread out of control in court circles and Urbain Grandier's name had been prominent, though without any real detail. + + Dontane's expression froze and for a moment he looked dangerous, and not at all like the drunken puppies that Castero had herded out. + + Dangerous, Thomas thought, but weak, like Lestrac, Someone's useful tool. He said, "You will be glad to know that I am extending the hospitality of the palace to you." + + "You'll regret this." Dontane had gathered up the remains of his faade, and spoke with drunken arrogance. + + "I'm sure one of us will," Thomas agreed. + + * * * + + It was evening by the time they returned to the palace. The rain had stopped but the clouds still obscured the stars and the waning moon. Thomas had seen the prisoners settled in the Cisternan Barracks, with Dontane in one of the cells specially warded against the use of sorcery. Then he set off through the corridor within the outer wall toward the King's Bastion. He wanted to find Lucas and hear what they had found at Gambin's house, though he suspected it wouldn't be much. The answers he needed would have to be pried out of Dontane. It was pure luck they had managed to catch him at all. + + Pure luck, and Kade, who had disappeared again after they passed through the Prince's Gate, taking her confused motives with her. She couldn't be here simply to cause trouble. Thomas might have realized Lestrac's hidden room was there without her help, but he would never have gotten into it in time to question the dying noble. + + He climbed the rough-cut stone staircase that angled up into the King's Bastion. The tapestry-concealed entrance on the third floor gave onto a long central mirror-lined gallery, which was unusually crowded and noisy for this time of night. + + Thomas made his way past a group of loudly talking courtiers and saw the cause of the excitement. + + Denzil was dueling with Aristofan, Queen Falaise's poet-companion. They had stripped to their shirts and were stalking each other up and down the length of the candlelit room. The young poet was intent but breathing hard, and was obviously having the more difficult time. Denzil, his blond hair tied back, was moving with easy grace and confidence. It was the social event of the night, the women watching from behind fluttering fans, the men commenting on the performance and quietly placing wagers. + + Thomas joined Lucas, who was watching from the sidelines with the old Count of Duncanny and a few other bystanders. "How did it start?" Thomas asked him. + + Lucas shrugged. "The boy accused Denzil of insulting the Queen in some way and Denzil challenged him. It's all very mysterious. Neither will say exactly what the insult was." + + Arms folded and eyes critical, the old count said, "I don't think they know." + + Most duels were sparked by boredom. Courtiers and city-dwelling nobles with little to do except drink, gamble, and argue fought over everything from their wives' honor to the score of card games. This one had a certain impromptu look; there were no seconds and they were fighting in the flickering inadequate light of the long gallery. + + Face shining with exertion, Aristofan was quick to take advantage of the openings in Denzil's guard, but his blade never seemed to connect. After a few moments, Thomas recognized Denzil's technique, which was one he had often used himself for training inexperienced swordsmen. Denzil was completely controlling the fight by maintaining a constant distance between himself and the young poet. Denzil was the taller man, and with his longer reach and better control, Aristofan hadn't even a chance of wounding him. + + The Duke of Alsene was using a special dueling sword with a black metal cup hilt that matched his main gauche. Thomas noticed Aristofan was using a businesslike dueling rapier. "Where did he get that sword?" He looked at Lucas. + + Lucas shifted uncomfortably. "You should have seen the one I took away from him. The boy was going to try to defend himself with a piece of jewelry." + + Thomas snorted. "Getting sentimental in our old age, are we?" + + "Won't help," the count said quietly. + + Thomas sensed movement near him and looked down to find Kade Carrion at his elbow again, watching the fight with a faint look of contempt. He was beginning to wonder if the woman was intentionally following him. As if aware her presence had been noted, she asked, "What's this about?" + + Several nearby watchers looked around at the shabby figure of the sorceress in surprise, having not realized she was there until that moment. Thomas said, "Possibly the Queen's honor, possibly nothing. Public opinion is divided at the moment." + + She glanced up at him suspiciously. "Oh." + + Denzil was continuing to play with Aristofan, turning the duel into a cat-and-mouse game Thomas began to find repellent. He should end it. Bastard. + + Kade asked suddenly, "Are the rumors about Denzil and Roland true?" + + Thomas automatically glanced around to see if any of Denzil's tale-bearing friends were within earshot. Roland had a morbid fear of idle talk, and what the gossips would make of Kade's innocent question would reach his ears in no time. Her presence had cleared the immediate vicinity of everyone except himself, Lucas, and the Count of Duncanny, who was a staunch supporter of Ravenna's faction, and Thomas didn't see any real reason not to answer her question. "If they are, it isn't because of any affection or desire on Denzil's part, at least." He had always seen Roland and Denzil's attachment as a strange sort of parasitic relationship on both sides, and he found himself searching for a way to explain it. "And I don't think it matters. Denzil's real control over Roland is the friendship they had when they were boys. If Roland had other favorites, or even if he managed to notice Falaise's existence for once, it would mean taking his attention away from Denzil, which Denzil can't allow. Roland must know how easy it is for a king to attract admirers; Denzil doesn't want him to discover how easy it would be to use a rival against him." + + Denzil was apparently finding the fight as it was boring. He stepped back, tossing away his main gauche and drawing a second one from his sash. The hilt on the long dagger was overelaborate and the blade looked oddly heavy. + + A moment later this was explained as Denzil pressed a hidden catch on the weapon's hilt. Two metal rods popped out of the central blade and snapped into positions at acute angles to it. Their movement revealed that the center blade had a serrated edge. + + The Count of Duncanny shook his head in disgust and walked away. + + Kade squinted, frowning. "What is that?" + + "It's for breaking blades," Thomas explained. + + "I thought that's what quillions were for." + + Thomas said dryly, "Obviously we were all mistaken." + + Aristofan shifted his stance and adjusted his grip on his rapier. The weapon was obviously heavier than what he was used to, but it still wouldn't hold up against the main gauche's serrated edge. Aristofan and Denzil circled each other. + + "You're about to lose a blade," Thomas told Lucas. + + "I've been doing this twenty years and I never needed anything like that," Lucas said, exasperated. "This isn't a duel; it's a murder. That young idiot ought to give over." + + "It would look bad. People would talk." Thomas's voice was heavy with irony. + + Lucas made an impatient gesture. "He'd be alive to hear them. He's only a poet; why should he care what people say?" + + "Everyone does," Kade said. + + Thomas looked down at her and saw the tension in the way she was standing, the intent look in her gray eyes, and realized what she was about to do. He decided to let her. + + Aristofan attempted a desperate parry and Denzil trapped the boy's sword in his elaborate main gauche and snapped the blade. The Duke's first slash opened a long cut on Aristofan's cheek; his second never landed. + + Kade slammed into Denzil from the side. He staggered and twisted away from her, landing heavily. Before she could leap on him, Thomas caught up with her from behind and pulled her out of the way. Denzil leapt to his feet, threw down his sword, and started toward her. + + Thomas shoved him backward and said, "Temper, my lord. Take them one at a time." + + They were treated to a good view of Denzil with the veneer of civility stripped away. "How dare that bitch interfere with me?" he shouted. + + Aristofan had fallen to the floor and was pressing his arm to his face, trying to staunch the blood flow. A couple of watching servants ran forward to help him. + + "I'll do more than interfere with you, posturing monkey," Kade sneered at the infuriated Denzil. "Why don't you take on someone with a chance against you?" + + "There's a thought," Thomas remarked pleasantly. + + Denzil focused on him and his expression changed. He smiled and gestured back toward the fallen poet. "Is that the problem, Captain? Am I usurping your duty?" + + They regarded each other for a moment, long enough to realize the entire chamber had fallen silent. Thomas turned and saw Roland standing in the doorway at the far end of the room, his attendants grouped around him. After a moment of angry contemplation, the King strode forward and shouted, "What is this?" + + "What do you think it is?" Kade asked him with withering contempt. + + Roland turned a slightly darker shade of red, embarrassment added to anger, and said, "You will all stop this immediately." + + There was some shuffling among the spectators as they tried to look as if they were obeying. The main figures in the drama simply stood there and stared at him. + + Roland looked at Denzil and started to speak, then abruptly wheeled and stormed out of the room. Denzil recovered his sword and went after him without even a glare for anyone else. + + * * * + + As Thomas expected, Lucas and the others had found nothing incriminating at Gambia's house that had any bearing on Urbain Grandier. They had brought the body and its effects back to the palace and Galen Dubell had promised to examine them. + + Thomas had gone out to the portico that extended off the third floor to take a shortcut across to the main part of the building when Kade caught up with him. + + She asked loudly, "Why did you stop me?" + + He turned to face her. The threatened afternoon storm had never produced more than a light rain, but the evening breeze was damp and strong, rocking the lamps hanging from the columns and tearing at her hair. He asked, "Why did you let me?" + + He watched her mentally back up to begin again. She demanded, "What did Denzil mean by 'usurping your duty'?" + + She could hear it from anyone, and was perfectly capable of badgering him about it for hours. He said, "Queen Falaise had a lover, a young stupid man like Aristofan, nearly helpless with a sword. He became too arrogant, she sent him away, and he insulted her in front of important witnesses. I killed him." + + Kade turned that over for a moment. Her eyes narrowed. "You wanted to stop the duel." + + "Yes." In spite of everything, he was surprised. For someone who leapt to conclusions as often as she did, her leaps were fairly accurate. + + She stared at him. "You bastard, if you want to kill Denzil, have the guts to do it yourself; don't use me for it." + + It was foolish to be angry with her, but Thomas found himself saying tightly, "If you don't want to be used, then don't open yourself to it by behaving stupidly and leaving other people to pick up the pieces. You can't play the spoiled witless child all your life." + + "Well it's better than what you're playing at, isn't it?" + + "I wouldn't know, having never been so lacking in initiative that I had to act like a raving idiot to get what I wanted." + + As Kade was drawing breath to answer, there was a crash beneath their feet as a glass-paned door was flung violently open on the balcony of the floor below. Both of them flinched. + + "My lord--" Denzil's voice said. + + "Don't call me that, not while we're alone." It was Roland. + + Thomas remembered that this terrace was directly above the balcony of one of Roland's private solars. He and Kade regarded each other in silence. They could hardly object to each other's eavesdropping, Thomas supposed, having just come to the mutual conclusion that they were both too despicable to live in polite company anyway. + + Denzil asked, "Are you all right?" + + "You ask me that?" + + The voices below had grown softer. Thomas took a silent step forward to the railing to hear more clearly. After a moment Kade joined him. + + "What? Were you worried?" Denzil's voice had a laugh in it. "That was barely worth the effort." + + "You take too many chances. But you should have left that boy alone. He's nothing." Roland was oblivious to the fact that Aristofan was perhaps a year or two older than himself. + + "He insulted me. And you should thank me for ridding you of him. He's your wife's lover." + + "He's nothing. All the married women in the city have lovers. My mother has lovers. God knows my father had worse habits--" + + "Don't. If your honor means nothing to you, it means something to me." + + And how is Roland's honor affected by an insult to Denzil, Thomas wondered. Where was Dr. Dubell to ask the pertinent question? + + "Sometimes I think you're the only one." + + Denzil did not dispute this. "I'm sorry I upset you. That bitch of a sorceress--" + + "Is my sister." + + At his side Thomas sensed Kade stiffen. + + "And where was she when you needed her?" + + "She ran away. I loved her and she left me behind without a second thought." + + Kade shivered once, a slight movement with all the intensity of a restrained convulsion. Thomas found himself unwillingly sympathetic. Roland had been the Crown Prince; his exiled sister could hardly have taken him with her, as if they were farm children escaping a harsh master. And the choice to stay with him in the city had been taken from her by Ravenna's command. + + Kade drew back as if to leave. Impulsively, Thomas put a hand on top of hers on the railing and she froze. At that moment an army probably couldn't have kept her on that balcony by force, but that gentle touch seemed enough to hold her there. + + "Who stayed with you?" Denzil asked. + + "You did. I'd have died without someone." + + "Then it's a good thing she wasn't all you had." There was silence, then a creak as one of the men below opened the door. + + Thomas released Kade's hand, and she vanished back through the archway. + + Chapter Eight + + KADE FOUND HERSELF in need of company. Falaise was the only person she could think of who might possibly be willing to put up with her, and Kade was in such a mood that she was willing to put up with moping, which was probably what Falaise was doing at the moment. + + The Queen's apartments were on the fifth level of the King's Bastion, but when Kade came up the stairs to where she could see the doorway of the first antechamber, it looked like a disturbed anthill. Gentlewomen and maidservants were running in and out, and Queen's guards were stalking around outside the door. That doesn't look promising, Kade thought. She didn't particularly want to start another sensation, so she crept back down the stairs and out of sight. + + The next stairwell gave onto the cathedral-like entrance of an old gallery, and she stopped in front of the oaken doors carved with willows and birds of paradise. This was the hall where the royal portraits were kept, "where the family was interred," as some long-ago courtier had referred to it. + + After a moment, Kade went inside. + + It was cold with the chill of marble, fine wood laid over stone, and gilded frames, and it felt barren as rooms that have never been lived in feel. The hall lanterns illuminated ancestors, distant relations, and the notables of this or other ages, which Kade passed by without more than a cursory glance. There was only one set of portraits here anyone ever came to see. They were the Greancos, the portraits of the royal family. + + Other painters had done royal portraits which were scattered about the palace or presented to favored nobles, but Greanco had been a seventh son of a seventh son, with half his mind in the Otherworld. Having a portrait done by him was to take a chance at having one's soul revealed. Fortunately for Greanco, this held a fascination for Ravenna and her family that had kept him at court longer than anyone else would have put up with him. + + Knowing the effect and having felt it before didn't help; shivers ran up Kade's back as she stood beneath those canvas eyes. She had to fight the conviction that there were people watching her who disappeared when she turned to face them. + + She stopped before the portraits of the old kings: Ravenna's father and grandfather. Their hard eyes stared down at her. Both men had been beleaguered warrior kings, and the primary impressions the portraits gave were those of guile and strength. Undoubtedly they would have found Ravenna a proper daughter; her strong features were echoed in theirs. But what would they think of Roland, Kade wondered. Or herself, for that matter? Probably not much, she decided. Why Ravenna's father had chosen to settle the ruling right on Fulstan and not on her was a mystery. Perhaps he had not entirely trusted her, or perhaps he mistook independence for willfulness. Kade had heard that Fulstan had always put on a good show for his father-in-law. It hadn't mattered in the end, and Ravenna had had the kingdom in reality, if not in name. We all make mistakes, she told the portrait silently, as she moved on. But some of us have to live with them. + + There were solemn representations of other relatives, and courtiers she should have known, generals or statesmen who had walked these rooms when she was a child and had since died. But like the children she had played with until her father found reasons to send their families away, she only dimly remembered their faces and couldn't quite recall their names. + + Then she circled a pillar and found herself facing the portrait of Fulstan in his prime. Surprisingly, Kade could look at it without emotion; Greanco had painted an empty slate, a weak vessel that had not yet been subjected to the stresses that would deform it. He had faithfully depicted the handsome features, the full brown hair, and the wide-set blue eyes but had managed to give the impression that the beauty was transitory, and not something that grew out of character, that would last through age. The later portrait that revealed the older bitter man was said to hang in Ravenna's bedchamber, there only because the Dowager had reportedly said that she couldn't think of a better place for him than nailed up there on the wall, watching. + + After the Arlequin's attack, Denzil had brought up the subject of Fulstan's suspiciously quick illness and death, and Kade had felt an odd mingling of triumph and guilt. She had been almost certain for years that she had caused Fulstan's death with that same unskilled power that had smashed the cathedral's windows, that she had wished him dead all the way from the Monelite Convent. But she was a little afraid of those thoughts, too. She wanted to think her sorcery had some control, that it wasn't as wild as her fay magic. But study was the only cure for lack of control; she should be studying in the quiet peace of Knockma instead of stirring up trouble here. + + The next portrait was of Roland as a child. The better-known and inferior portrait by Avisjon hung in a more prominent location downstairs. Despite the trappings of royal tunic and mantle, the scepter and the Hand of Justice, Greanco had captured Roland's frightened eyes all too well. + + She wandered down the wall a little and unexpectedly encountered her own portrait. + + I should have known, she thought, staring. Ravenna wouldn't have let Roland burn the rags Greanco used to wipe his brushes, let alone one of his paintings. + + When it had first been painted so long ago, Kade had been upset that her awkwardness and anxiety had been so well revealed. Now she saw what had really been there. It was pain. + + So that's what it was like, she thought. It seems I might have forgotten. + + Kade now understood why Ravenna had had the portrait put away after it was complete. It was also a reproach. How it had found its way up here she couldn't imagine. + + She stepped back to where she could see both her own and Roland's portraits and thought, Did I run away? At the time it had seemed a glorious escape. What would have happened if I'd stayed? Nothing or everything. She couldn't remember being angry at Roland when she left for the convent. She felt like a contributor to that expression on Roland's young face which Greanco had captured so well, and she didn't like the feeling. I should leave, tonight, now, she thought wearily. This isn't turning out the way I imagined and I'm just in the way. Now that they've seen me again they probably won't even be afraid of me anymore. + + Kade remembered that hot Midsummer Eve's day when the power had come flowing out of her as if she were a bottle shattered from pressure within. She hadn't had any grudge against the cathedral itself; in fact, she rather regretted the destruction of those stained glass windows. She had done simple magics under Galen Dubell's tutelage, but that had been the first time the ability had risen in her with such strength, the first time she could focus it at will. It had been marvelous. But it was the first and only time. She would not reach that peak so easily again. The only road to that kind of power was the one of hard study, and she had dedicated the years since to mastering her abilities, though it had never been easy. And perhaps she had let the more painstaking magics of sorcery take second place to the easy power of fayre. + + She turned to go, but she had missed the paintings on the other side of the gallery and now one caught her eye. It was an informal portrait of a younger Ravenna with an elite group of her Queen's Guard and the officers. She sat in the center, dressed in a mantua of black velvet and flame silk, a rose of diamonds on her breast. A younger Thomas Boniface leaned on the chair at her side and slightly behind her, with the rest of the guards grouped around, all handsome and all with a pronounced air of danger. + + Kade didn't remember seeing it before. It must have been done after she had left, to commemorate the recently victorious Bisran War, when Ravenna had brought the years of fighting to an end. It was odd that it wasn't somewhere downstairs, but Kade supposed that it had been scandalous for an independent queen with a useless husband to have her portrait done with a group of young men. But then that was Ravenna down to the bone, and Greanco had conveyed that, too. During that war, Ravenna had traveled extensively around the disputed borders with her guard and one or two maidservants. Knowing Ravenna, she had probably chaperoned the maidservants more than they had chaperoned her. A few bishops had spoken out against her, but the rest of the country thought the Church poked into other people's morals too much as it was; landlaw barely took notice of adultery, and queens had traditionally taken lovers among their personal bodyguard. + + It was the tacit rules of landlaw that allowed Ravenna to keep command of the Queen's Guard when she should have passed it on to Falaise as the younger woman was crowned. Under landlaw, a personal bodyguard could not be inherited or given away without the liege's permission. If there was something Ravenna was good at, it was manipulating laws and circumstances to her own ends. + + I should learn to do that, Kade thought, bitterly amused at herself. But fayre had few laws, or at least few that made sense. Like the court, the denizens of the Kingdoms of Fay fought, plotted, and stabbed one another in the back to excess, but they were soulless creatures and their passions were short-lived and shallow. The outcomes of their games didn't really matter to them, and there was nothing like the solid trust that was reflected in this portrait... + + You are getting sentimental, you idiot. + + The next portrait was of Thomas Boniface, also in informal dress. Even for a Greanco it was dark and elusive. Though Thomas was more than ten years the elder, he and Denzil had much the same presence in person: arrogant and sensual and well aware of their own worth, both wolves in lapdogs' clothing. The portrait suggested that in the Captain's case the arrogance might be tempered by irony. + + Tradition dictated that the Captain of the Queen's Guard as well as the Preceptor of the Albonate Knights renounce all familial connections so their whole loyalty would be to the crown. Nepotism and interfering relations could be permitted with other nobles who served in the palace, but these positions were seen as too important. Renier had been Duke of something, Kade remembered, when he handed the whole thing over to a younger brother and took his post for Roland. Thomas had been Viscount Boniface. + + Both court offices came with a huge amount of wealth and some land, but gave up the right to leave that wealth to any heir other than the next man appointed to the position. If the Albonate Preceptors lived to retire they were usually created a duke and awarded estates and income. It was assumed the same thing would be done for the Captains of the Queen's Guard, but in recent history all of them had died at duty. + + Kade realized abruptly that Thomas Boniface probably expected the same to happen to him. If he outlived Ravenna his position at court would not be a good one. Roland and Denzil were both against him, and Falaise seemed helpless to protect anyone including herself. That was what the portrait conveyed, Kade knew suddenly. It was the face of a man who took service with the crown accepting the possibility of eventual betrayal and a violent death, but not one who enjoyed having to kill people whose main crime seemed to be stupidity. + + Kade turned away and started resolutely for the stairs, telling herself, I don't know why I care; I don't even like him anymore anyway. + + Then the nagging restlessness that had plagued her coalesced into dread, and she stopped in the doorway. Her heart was fluttering. She took a deep breath, her hand pressed to her chest, and tried to think what it could be. + + Something's gone wrong; something's happening. She forced herself to move forward, to start down the stairs. I've got to get to Galen. + + * * * + + "What kind of a man is Grandier?" Thomas asked. + + Kneeling on the floor beside the wall niche, Galen Dubell paused to give the question serious consideration. "He is driven," he said finally, looking up at Thomas seriously. "And in pain. The worst sort of opponent to face." + + They were in one of the deep cellars of the Old Palace, the rough stone walls glistening faintly in the flickering light of the candlelamp. Stone pillars as wide as draft carts stretched up into darkness to meet the arched ceiling somewhere overhead. The dirty straw-dusted floor was littered with broken or empty barrels, boxes, and odd pieces of ironwork. Battered and forgotten siege engines, lowered through traps in the ceiling sometime in the dim past, looked like the metal skeletons of beached sea monsters in the half-light. Wandering at the edges of the light were the three Queen's guards Thomas had assigned to watch Dubell when the old man's work took him into deserted corners of the palace. They were fighting both boredom and nerves and trying to look unaffected. + + In an effort to discover what was wrong with the wards, Dubell was examining the warding stones buried in various locations around the palace. He was also planning on moving the keystone. He could remove it with Thomas and the guards present, but he would have to convey it to its new resting place alone. Thomas wasn't happy about Dubell moving about the undercellars of the palace unguarded, but the keystone was kept safe by being hidden away among the hundreds of other warding stones. Dubell was the only one who would know its exact location. + + After carefully examining the dull-colored egg-shaped warding stone, Dubell replaced it in its wall niche and sealed it up with clay, handing the bucket back to the unwilling servant boy who had been drafted for the task. + + "Driven by what?" Thomas asked, though he wasn't sure why he was pursuing the subject. Though if it provided no insight into Grandier, it might reveal something about the way Dubell thought. + + "By his convictions." Dubell climbed to his feet awkwardly and they started toward the pillars in the center of the cavernous room, the boy trailing behind. + + The cellar was damp, but the air was neither too hot nor too cold, and not at all stale, as if the airshafts within the thick walls of the Old Palace overhead might have openings somewhere in the cellar's ceiling. + + Thomas had followed Dubell down here to ask him what he had found out about Gambin's death, but Dubell hadn't been able to discover what the spy had been killed with or how it had been done. Now that Thomas was down here, he might as well wait until Dubell was finished; the old sorcerer might be helpful during Dontane's questioning. Thomas said, "I don't understand why his convictions would lead him against us. This isn't Bisra. If a sorcerer steals or kills his neighbor, he's hanged just like anyone else, but not for practicing magic." + + Dubell gestured with his trowel. "That, of course, is the difficult point. Why is he here at all? In Lodun we believe he has never been across our borders before, even though his father was from Ile-Rien. He has certainly never been accused of a crime, justly or unjustly, by our crown. Which leads me unfortunately to believe that his grudge against this land or this city is ideological, in which case there is little that can be done to deter him." + + Thomas shook his head. "I can't agree with that. There's a member of the city Philosophers' Academy who has invented some kind of clockwork that can add figures when he turns the knobs on the outside. The Inquisitors General in Bisra heard about it and have declared him a devil's servant, and if he ever crosses their border they'll kill him. If Grandier considers himself such a scholar, why isn't he still over the border giving hell to the Bisran crown?" + + "It would certainly seem more sensible of him. Unless," Dubell paused as the idea occurred to him, "he has been offered money by someone to persecute us." + + "That's been considered." In Bisra, mobs surrounded the churches where the Inquisition held court, accusing each other of witchcraft and seeing demons under every bush. If it came out that the Bisran crown had employed a man who had escaped the death sentence for black magic, there would be riots it would take them weeks to put down. Thomas kicked a pillar thoughtfully. He would have to consider ways to let the appropriate rumors slip across the border. "Grandier might do it, if they offered him something he wanted badly enough." + + Dubell shook his head, brow furrowed. "If I were him, I think my quarrel against them would run too deeply." + + "There are several possibilities as to who could have hired him." Thomas had no wish to discuss the possibilities who were nearer at hand than Bisra; not with Galen Dubell, at any rate. "And you have never heard of this man Dontane?" + + "Not in connection with Urbain Grandier. Not at all, in fact. The poison that the poor fellow Lestrac was given tends to cause hallucinations and delusions before the sleep that soon turns to death. He might have accused the man falsely." + + Thomas didn't think it had been a delusion. Lestrac had been too certain, too angry in his betrayal. "Kade seemed sure that he was the one in the room with Lestrac. She made his likeness form in a pool of wine." + + "That is not entirely a tried-and-true method. Kade is," Dubell hesitated, "quite brilliant in a peculiar way. But she also tends to let her imagination get the best of her." + + Thomas, who also thought of Dubell as brilliant in a peculiar way, didn't comment. + + Dubell stopped at one of the huge pillars and pointed to a square section near the base that had been carved out and refilled with clay. "This is where the keystone is buried. I've already prepared the new location for it, and it will only take me a short time to convey it there. Not long enough to cause any degeneration in the wards." + + Frowning, Thomas knelt to look at the clay seal more closely. "This is recent. Have you looked at it before?" + + "No." Dubell stooped anxiously, and started to pry out the clay. "Perhaps Dr. Surete... God, if it's been this all along..." + + The explosion was like a cannon going off directly over their heads. The stone pillars trembled with the shock of it, releasing a rain of dust and rock chips from above. Thomas stood, then staggered as the floor slipped suddenly under his feet. Deafened by the noise, he waited for the thousands of tons of stone to come crashing down on top of them. + + The walls shuddered back into stillness. + + For a moment Thomas and the other guards stared at each other. "What..." whispered Baserat. + + Dubell had rocked back on his heels with the concussion but he kept digging away at the clay seal. It broke under the pressure and he shoved his hand back into the niche. "It's empty," he said, and began to curse Grandier. + + Thomas hauled Dubell to his feet. "Come on," he said and led them at a run toward the stairs. It might have been the city armories, he thought. The two long stone buildings housed stores of gunpowder and stood on the opposite side of the inner wall from the Gallery Wing. But even if both had gone up at once... No, there was no accidental cause for an explosion like that; the palace was under attack, from outside or from within. He tried to remember who had been on duty in the building overhead, and where Ravenna was likely to be at this time. + + They reached the staircase at the far end of the shadowy darkness. Thomas took the lamp from the guard who had had the presence of mind to bring it and held it up. The narrow stairs spiraled upward, unblocked as far as the light reached. + + Thomas said, "Load your pistols." + + Dubell took the lamp and moved to peer uneasily up into the stairway as the guards loaded their weapons with the swiftness of long practice. By the time Thomas closed the cover over the priming pan of his second wheellock and tucked it back into his sash, he had calmed himself enough to think clearly. If the few of them were going to do any good, there could be no mistakes. + + He started up the stairs, the others following behind him. The four-story climb might have stretched to infinity. + + They had reached the second flight when there was a yell from behind and Thomas turned back. Treville was slumped on the stairs, clutching his side. The figure standing over him was nightmarish; it looked like a man, but its skin was gray and foul, its clothes in brown tatters, its hair a torn greasy mop. It seemed as though they froze there, staring at the apparition, for moments, but it must have been only half a heartbeat because the creature never had another chance to move. On the stairs below, Baserat struck upward at the same time that Martin fell on it from above, almost succeeding in impaling himself on the other guard's sword. + + Dubell flattened himself back against the wall so Thomas could get past. The two guards were standing back from the creature now, looking down in shock. Thomas had to put a hand on Martin's shoulder and move him out of the way before he could see it. + + Its narrow features twisted in death, it looked like a man who had been held prisoner in a dark place for a very long time and starved. The wound in its chest where the point of Baserat's rapier had emerged was bloody but also burned, as if the metal blade had been red-hot. + + Dubell had edged down past them and was helping Treville to sit up. Thomas picked up the weapon the creature had used. It was a bronze short sword, with a narrow blade and wickedly sharp edges. Not much protection against a steel weapon, but it did its job well enough on human flesh. + + "It was up above us, perched there, Captain," Baserat said, his voice a little unsteady. + + "What is it?" Thomas asked Dubell. + + "Fay, but I don't recognize what sort." He finished staunching Treville's wound and looked up at them. "With the keystone removed from the matrix for more than a few hours, the wards would begin drifting away from the outer walls of the newer sections of the palace. The creatures must have been waiting for a large enough opening." + + Thomas felt everyone's eyes on him. He had known it must be an attack, but he had assumed the enemy was human. Ignoring the cold dread creeping up his spine, he looked down at Treville. "Can you walk?" + + "Out of here I could run." The man grinned weakly. + + "Good." Thomas looked at the others. "Let's go, gentlemen." + + Dubell helped Treville to his feet, then reached back to collar the servant boy and pull him further up the stairs. "Here, boy, carry the lamp, and don't fall behind." + + The boy took the lamp in a shaking hand and whispered, "Yes, Sir." + + The air in the stairwell was growing warmer. It might mean the entrance above them was blocked, or the building overhead had caught fire, or collapsed entirely. It might have been Kade. It might have been her plan all along, Thomas was thinking. He had no idea why that thought made him so angry. She had never promised him anything. + + The final turn brought Thomas to face the wooden doorway at the top of the stairs, which still stood open as they had left it earlier. The darkened corridor was blocked by the collapse of its wood and plaster ceiling. Dim lamplight shone down from the resulting gap in the passage above. + + Thomas climbed the debris and took a cautious look through the opening in the ceiling. Above them was a passageway, its floor and one wall wood while the rest was the original stone. The source of the light was hidden around a corner further up the way. He thought about the layout of the Old Palace and decided they were near the lower kitchens and storerooms. There were many ways leading out into the rest of the structure from here; some would have to be unblocked. + + "All right," he said to the others, "this is our way." + + It took some moments to get Treville up into the passage, his wound making their efforts to help difficult and painful for him. Just as Thomas gave Dubell a hand up, Baserat signaled them hastily for silence. "Hear that?" he whispered. + + In another moment they all did. There were people further down the passageway. For a moment Thomas found it a relief that they were not the only survivors of some immense disaster, then the faint sound turned into a tumult as shouts and a woman's scream echoed down to them. + + "Save your pistols," Thomas told them. The unspoken thought was on all their faces. Because we don't know what we'll find upstairs... + + Thomas ran down the passage and burst through an archway into a large low-ceilinged storeroom. A group of men and women dressed as servants was trapped in a corner, half-surrounded by a dozen or so of the sickly emaciated fay. The servants were fighting the creatures off with torches and makeshift clubs and whatever else they had been able to find. The fay rushed their new attackers as they entered the room. The first leapt at them, waving its sword over its head, and was disemboweled by Thomas's rapier. A bronze sword swung at him from the side and he swept it away and punctured the owner's chest. + + One of the fay kicked over a lamp, sending the room into near darkness. Obviously the creatures can see in the dark, Thomas thought, parrying another thrust. Pity we can't. + + Dubell shouted something and clapped his hands. Immediately a small bright ball of pure light appeared over his head and hovered there, flooding the room with a stark white illumination. + + From behind, something grabbed Thomas's arm and swung him around. The strength was astonishing for a creature so apparently delicate. He slammed the rapier's heavy hilt into its face and it fell away from him with a shriek. + + As he turned, Thomas saw that three more fay had come at them from the door to the passageway. Hell, they must have been following us up the stairs. One had attacked the wounded Treville from behind, and he was now sprawled bleeding on the floor. Martin leapt over his wounded friend to knock the creature away from him; as it staggered back he drove his rapier through it. + + Nearby another fay was grappling with Dubell, trying to plunge its sword toward his face, but the old sorcerer was holding it off. Dubell managed to shift his weight and shove the creature up against the wall. Thomas stepped up behind Dubell, said "Pardon me, Doctor," and finished off the creature. + + All the other fay in the room were down. The spell light above Dubell's head died away as the servants relit their lamps, and the strange unwavering white light was replaced by the familiar flickering yellow. + + "Captain," someone gasped at his side, and Thomas turned and saw Berham. The servant had armed himself with a crude but effective iron club. "Captain, there's fighting in the hall by the round stair. We could hear the shots. That's where we was making for." + + "Good." As an afterthought, Thomas asked, "Do you know what's happened?" + + "No, Sir, I couldn't say that." Bertram's story was like their own. He had been visiting nearby when the explosion had occurred. As a veteran of the last war, his instincts had taken over and he had gathered survivors, armed both men and women with what was available, and set off to join the organized resistance. + + Martin came up to them as Berham finished, saying bitterly, "Dr. Dubell said Treville's gone, Sir. The bastards go for the wounded like wolves." + + "Aye," Berham said softly, looking back toward the bodies of his companions who had not survived the ambush. "I noticed that." + + "Take his sword and give it to Dr. Dubell. Let Berham use the pistols. We'll come back for the bodies when we've secured the palace," Thomas told him, and thought, I sound like a bloody idiot of an optimist. + + But it was what the other two men wanted to hear. As they moved to obey, Thomas went to where Dubell was still kneeling beside Treville. Dubell looked up at Thomas and said, "I'm sorry." + + "It wasn't your fault," Thomas said automatically. + + Dubell's face was drawn. "The fay are attacking in force. This is no raid. It's another damned war, Captain." + + Another damned war, Thomas thought. But the Bisran army fought us for two decades and they never got as close as this. + + As they returned to the others, Baserat was leaning over the fay that Thomas had disemboweled, poking the entrails experimentally with the tip of his sword. "See, it looks human to me." + + "You're right. I wish I had my glasses." Dubell peered down at the creature, then said, "As I thought. The Unseelie Court, or the Host, as they are more commonly called. On their nightly rampages they seize human captives whom they will use to attack their fellows." He paused as Martin came up and handed him Treville's rapier. Dubell looked at the weapon as if he wasn't sure what it was, then said, "Yes, of course." + + "What makes men turn into that?" Thomas nudged the corpse with the toe of his boot. He couldn't believe it, though he knew Dubell must be right. + + "Prolonged exposure to the influence of the Host. Their captives become like them. Iron becomes poison to them. They gain some powers of the fay, but they lose their souls in the process." + + The room had grown silent as the others listened. The servants were watching them with white bruised faces and apprehensive eyes. + + Something bumped his elbow and Thomas looked down to see the servant boy who had somehow managed to survive so far, peering interestedly down at the fay's corpse. + + "Berham," Thomas said. "Keep this one with your lot." + + "Yes, Sir," Berham said, gesturing sharply to the boy. "Come away from there, boy, before you get in the way." + + There would be far too many people wandering about without Berhams to organize them. Unarmed retainers and servants, children who could not fend for or protect themselves, women who would not think to pick up a weapon. "We have to get moving," Thomas muttered. + + * * * + + Kade was on the stairs in the King's Bastion when the explosion shook the Old Palace. She held onto the balustrade as the walls trembled in sympathy with the adjoining building. A stiff breeze poured up the stairwell; the stink it carried made her wince. The shaking stopped and the beams supporting the stairs gave an uneasy creak before deciding to hold. Kade started down again, stumbling occasionally because her legs were trembling for some reason. The inexplicable wind had ceased with the reverberations of the explosion, but it had left the air smelling of mud, stale water, and death. + + It can't be the wards, Kade told herself uneasily. It can't be. + + She found the bottom of the stairway blocked by a panic-stricken crowd of palacefolk and servants and she had to go back up a flight to work her way around by back passages. She could smell smoke now, from fires that had caught when candles and lamps were knocked over. + + When she reached the long gallery that connected the bastion to the Old Palace, it was badly lit and in chaos. + + Albon knights were milling around the doors and Renier was shouting orders. Over the noise, someone was yelling, "If you don't send them to help us fight the fire, they won't have anywhere to retreat!" + + Kade ducked into the crowd, slipping past a mailed arm before it could stop her. She emerged onto the wide balcony of the great spiral staircase that led down into the main hall of the Old Palace. + + It was a pitched battle. + + The main hall was on two levels and the wide sweep of steps leading down to the lower portion of it was where the battle line had been drawn. Furniture, boxes, and other debris had been piled up at the top as cover for the defenders. Queen's guards and a few Albon knights and Cisternans were manning the barricades along with disheveled courtiers, retainers, and servants who had either taken up weapons or were crouching back behind the defenders and reloading pistols. The lower half of the hall was walled away by a palpable unnatural darkness. Missiles flew out of that darkness, bronze-tipped bolts of a deadly effectiveness demonstrated by the number of corpses sprawled on the floor. + + Kade started down the staircase, one hand on its wide banister. The zoomorphs carved on the stair's central column leered out of the shadows as they were briefly illuminated by torches, adding to the nightmare quality of the scene. Refugees struggled past her, palacefolk and wounded guards. + + As she fought her way closer, she began to see past the curtain of shadow in a way the others defending the barricade below could not. There was movement in that darkness, mangled faces, shifting forms, distorted or partly human. The wards must be gone, at least over the Old Palace and the Gallery Wing; that's how this mess got in, Kade thought, and forced herself to keep moving down the stairs toward that chaotic darkness stretched across the hall. But what drove them here? It was the Unseelie Court, the rulers of the dark fay and the other creatures who fed on blood and terror, who rode the night in the form of the Host, preying on humans and destroying every living thing in their path. They traveled the sky on dark windy nights accompanied, the church priests claimed, by the souls of the dead and wreaking havoc wherever they went. + + At the bottom of the stair, Kade started toward the barricade, dodging running forms, ignoring startled glances of recognition. As she reached the hastily erected wall of broken furniture and tried to peer through it, she heard, "If it isn't the Queen of Air and Darkness." + + The voice was sibilant and soft and came to her quite clearly over the noise. She looked down slowly and saw the face through a gap in the barricade. It was Evadne, one of the princes of the Unseelie Court. His narrow features might have been called handsome by someone less picky about character, even if his skin was powder blue. But though his expression was that of a wistful fay child, his eyes were gloating and entirely adult. Kade said, "Your eyesight is as bad as your sense of humor." She had never truly accepted her mother's title, which Evadne must know. + + He grinned up at her, revealing pointed teeth. "Why don't you join us, my sister? What has the Seelie Court ever given you that you should risk your life to side with them and battle us?" + + Kade ignored the growing knot of coldness in her stomach and laughed at him. The Seelie Court was the highest court of the Otherworld. Titania and Oberon ruled it, but spent little time in governing the fay who swore allegiance to them, and occupied most of their days in fetes, rades, contests, or other unreal pastimes of Fayre. The fay loosely attached to the Seelie Court loved daylight and music but were often dangerous to humans, either through acts of mischief or simple lack of concern over human frailties. + + The Queen of Air and Darkness was not truly a member of either court, and Kade did not like to think about what would happen to the balances of power in the Otherworld, which she only vaguely understood herself, if this were to change. Evadne must be very confident to risk making that offer. She said, "The Seelie Court has given me nothing, which is far better than the trouble you've given me. What makes you think I'd throw my fortune in with either of you?" + + His features drew into a pinched sneer. "The Host grows in power by the moment. The mortals' pitiful protections are scattered and you can't stop us. I'll destroy you myself." + + "Promises, promises. Who's your master? Is it Urbain Grandier?" + + The eyes hardened. "We have no master." + + "I'll tell him you said that when I meet him." + + Evadne stepped back, fading away into a darkness even Kade's sight couldn't penetrate. "I expect," he whispered, "that you will..." + + Kade dropped to the floor and used the hem of her dress to wipe a clear spot. Evadne had given her an idea. Those were powerful wards; they couldn't simply dissolve. They must be about somewhere. If she could find one... + + "Hey, come away from there." She looked up to see a man in a Cisternan officer's colors, who started back when he recognized her. + + Kade said, "I need chalk, wax, and some burnt coal." At his expression she shouted furiously, "Do you want help or not?" + + * * * + + An unblocked corridor leading out from the storerooms led Thomas and the others into the main hall. + + Wounded guards and refugees were climbing the huge spiral stair up into the King's Bastion and a thick white pall of smoke from pistols and muskets hung in the air. Out of the confusion, Thomas spotted the Cisternan Commander Vivan. He stepped forward and caught the other man's arm. "What did we lose?" + + Vivan ran a hand through his dark hair and didn't seem to notice when it came away bloody. He said, "They're in the Gallery Wing, and probably all of the east side." + + Thomas kept the shock off his face. "What about the King's Bastion?" + + "Secure. Everything inside the inner wall is secure, They didn't come through there." + + "The wards," said Galen Dubell, who was suddenly standing beside them. "They have drifted away from the newer structures of the palace, but the foundations in the older sections act as keystones themselves and are holding the wards in place there." + + Thomas nodded. "Good, it'll give us breathing room." What he wanted to do most was slam Vivan up against a wall and demand to know where Ravenna and Falaise were, but there was no time, and no sense in it. He knew Lucas and Gideon were on duty and for now he would just have to trust that they had gotten both Queens to safety. He said to Vivan, "You're trying to push them back so you can close the siege doors at the top of the stairs?" + + "Yes, If we fall back now, they'll push forward and we'll all go, but the sorceress said--" + + Thomas stared. "Who?" + + "The sorceress said if we gave her some time she could keep them back long enough to let us retreat." + + "Where is she?" + + "At the barricade." As Thomas started away, Vivan called after him, "Thomas! They're throwing elf-shot." + + That explained the ominously still forms that bore no visible wounds. + + Thomas spotted Kade's tattered form crouching near the center of the barricade between two Cisternan guards firing muskets. He began to make his way over to her. + + She had drawn some kind of design on the floor and was dripping wax from a lighted candle onto it. She was muttering continuously at it and Thomas thought she was saying a spell until he was close enough and realized she was cursing. + + He crouched beside her and said, "How much longer?" + + She tossed her head to get the hair out of her face and said, "Hours, days, weeks, how should I know?" + + A bronze crossbow bolt shot through the barricade and clattered off the stone floor between them. They both hunched their shoulders instinctively and Kade said, "Close," in a conversational tone. She tossed her hair back again. + + Thomas reached over and tucked her hair into the back of her smock for her. + + She muttered, "Thank you," without looking at him, a slow flush spreading up her cheeks. + + He said again, "How much longer?" + + "Not long. I'm almost done. Listen, what I'm doing is calling a ward." She stopped, grimacing as the barricade shuddered under another onslaught. "Impatient bastards." + + "Calling a ward?" he prompted. + + "Yes. Its name is Ableon-Indis and it's supposed to be over the St. Anne's Gate but it's lying across the top of the King's Bastion now. I don't know why." + + "Someone's taken the keystone." + + "Damn. That would be the reason, then. The newer wards float away from their places without the keystone in the etheric structure, but the King's Bastion has the strongest warding spells in the old parts of the palace. It's drawing the drifting wards over to it. Not that it's helping much." Her expression was grim. "Anyway, when I finish this the ward should fall toward us here. If I'm lucky it will come to ground right here along the barricade. When we leave, the Host will surge forward, run into it, and get an unpleasant surprise. But Ableon-Indis will start moving upward again almost immediately. What I'm doing here isn't as strong as the warding spells still drawing it to the King's Bastion." + + Thomas nodded. "So we'll have only a few moments at best?" + + "Yes." + + "It'll be enough." + + She looked up quickly and grinned. + + Berham made it over to them and knelt beside the barricade. "Albons are holding the doors in the bastion, Sir," he reported. + + "Which officers are up there?" + + "Just Sir Renier that I could see, Sir. They said if I came in they wouldn't let me go back because the idea was to get everyone out, you see." + + "All right." Thomas looked around and saw Martin nearby. He waved him over and said, "Find Commander Vivan and spread word that when I give the order to fall back everyone's to stop firing immediately and head for the stairs. We'll have our retreat covered but not for long." As Martin hurried off he told Berham, "You tell the reloaders to make sure they get the wounded out of here before we have to move." + + "Yes, Captain," Berham said, pushing to his feet. "By God, this might work." + + As Berham made his way back to the reloaders, Thomas saw a disturbance on the other side of the hall. Soot was pouring out of the great hearth in a dusty cloud. Thomas stood and started toward it. There was something coming down the chimney. + + Closer, he could see that the head emerging from under the stone mantel was like a horse's in size and shape. But its eyes were glazed over and white and it looked as though its coat had been removed with a dull knife. It had teeth like a lion. Thomas drew his pistol, but before he could wind the mainspring, the creature plunged out of the fireplace and fell on a group of men who had been reloading muskets. It swung its great horse's head from side to side, its teeth tearing as the men scrambled to get away. + + Reaching it, Thomas drew his rapier and slashed at its side. As it turned toward him with a scream of rage, he drove the point through its neck. It teetered, then fell toward him, dragging him down as it slumped onto the floor. + + A second creature was emerging from the fireplace. Thomas dropped the rapier and wound the pistol's spring, then braced it on his forearm and fired. + + The ball hit the creature in its broad chest along with three other shots fired from different areas of the hall and a fourth ball that all but shattered the mantel of the hearth. The creature dropped like a stone. + + Galen Dubell appeared at Thomas's side, pointed at the fireplace, and gestured. The creature's body caught fire as if it had been dipped in pitch and flames shot up the chimney. "That should hold them for awhile," Dubell said with satisfaction. + + Thomas shoved himself upright and went to put a foot on the fay-horse's neck to work his rapier free. He asked, "Can you help Kade?" + + "No, anything I could do might only counteract the effect she is attempting to create and then we would be dead." Dubell smiled grimly. "But I can harry the enemy and perhaps give her more time." + + As the sorcerer strode off Thomas looked after him, a little nonplused. Disasters agree with you. + + As others ran up to carry the wounded, more fay charged the barricade and Thomas joined the defenders. + + Nightmare images flung themselves out of the darkness and were driven back by pistol balls or pikes wielded over the barricade. There were hideous animal-shapes with distorted bodies and wicked intelligent eyes, creatures with oddly human faces and bodies that were marked with startling deformities, and other things that vanished so quickly the mind discounted what the eyes saw. Their shrieking and keening mixed with the blasts of muskets and pistols was deafening. + + Thomas had lost track of time when Vivan grabbed his arm and said, "She's ready." + + Thomas looked around. The wounded and the refugees had vanished up the stairway and Commander Vivan had already sent the reloaders after them. Thomas said, "Pass the word: when I give the order, stop firing and fall back into the bastion." He stepped back where he could see Kade and waited for the word to pass down the line. + + When the guards at each end signaled ready, Thomas looked at Kade. She nodded, and he yelled, "Fall back." + + Discipline held remarkably, even among the Albon knights, who didn't think themselves obliged to listen to anyone. + + The shrieking din from their attackers rose in a crescendo. Thomas moved with the others to the foot of the stairs and looked back for Kade, not seeing her among the crowd. + + She was still crouched beside the barricade. Thomas saw what she had been waiting for. The Host surged up toward the barricade and met a wall of hostile air. Some dissolved into myriad colors that shrieked toward the ceiling and away like fleeing ghosts. Some popped like soap bubbles and disappeared while others fell backward, marked by horrible wounds. + + Kade smiled tightly to herself, leapt to her feet, and ran. + + Thomas waited for her to reach the stairway before starting up. She was a little ahead of him halfway up the second tier when she was thrown back against the banister as if something had struck her. + + The Host started to pour over the barricade. Thomas reached Kade and lifted her up. She was unconscious but still breathing and weighed practically nothing. + + The third tier passed in a blur with the fay on the stairs below. Then the Albon knights were closing the siege doors behind him, foot-thick oak panels sheathed with iron. They slammed them to and shoved the heavy locking-bolts home. The foyer was crowded with wounded guards and refugees, and the light was dim and smoky. + + Kade let him know she was awake and wanted to be put down with a sharp elbow in his ribs. He set her on her feet and she staggered slightly. "What happened to you?" he demanded, his breath coming hard from the climb. + + "I don't know. Ow." She felt the side of her head gingerly. "Where's Galen?" + + The old sorcerer was already on the other side of the gallery, helping with the wounded. As Kade turned away to go to him Thomas said, "Wait." + + She paused, wary, and he asked, "Did you know this was going to happen?" + + "No." Her voice was scornful. "That is the Unseelie Court, the Dark Host, the enemy of light. I wouldn't have anything to do with them. They were the ones who tricked my mother into accepting a wager she couldn't possibly win. I wasn't much fond of her, but no one deserves-- And they would just as soon do the same to me." + + He had to be sure. "You didn't mention you knew how to manipulate the wards." + + "I wouldn't have been able to call that ward down if the keystone had still been in its place. Removing it destroyed the etheric structure that held the wards in their courses." She winced and touched her head again, then continued more calmly. "Galen taught me how to track wards in a puddle of ash, and the way I called Ableon-Indis to me was only a variation on the spells used to temporarily hold a ward in one place, which every apprentice knows. Ask him if you don't believe me." + + There was a muffled thump from the other side of the siege doors, then an echoing roar, as some thwarted creature expressed its displeasure. If Kade had not bothered to aid the defenders, they would have been on the other side of those doors now. Thomas thought, She didn't have to do it, and it certainty wouldn't serve her purpose if she meant us any harm. He said, "It won't be necessary to ask him." + + Kade hesitated, as if she was just as inexperienced at accepting trust as he was at giving it, then she turned without a word and slipped into the crowd. Renier pushed past the other Albons clustering near the siege doors to reach Thomas and said, "The doors are holding." + + Thomas asked, "What started it?" It had occurred to him that he still didn't know exactly what had exploded or where, except that it was somewhere in the Old Palace or the Gallery Wing. + + The big knight looked like he had been run over by a wagon. The final touch was a perfect black eye. He said, "I only know we've lost half the Cisternan Guard and anyone who was posted past the main hall of the Old Palace. Including one of your lieutenants. I saw him going that way just before it happened." + + Gideon would be with Falaise in the King's Bastion. "Lucas Castil?" + + "Yes, that's him." + + "God damn." Thomas leaned back against the wall and used the full sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He could still smell the fay-horse's acrid blood. "Where's Ravenna?" + + "She's here in the bastion; I've seen her. Roland was in the Gallery Wing when it happened. We got him out barely in time." Renier hesitated, then said, "I have to talk to you in private." + + Thomas looked up at him. With Kade on the other side of the gallery, there was no one to eavesdrop except for their own men, who were standing or lying about in various positions of pain or exhaustion, but Renier's expression was deadly serious. + + As they moved off a little, Thomas asked, "How did you get that eye?" Considering everyone else's wounds, it was oddly minor. + + "The King was a trifle upset at certain developments," Renier answered with a noticeable lack of expression. + + "Well, he's a great comfort to all of us," Thomas snapped. We've given our lives for an idiot child. And Lucas was dead. + + Renier didn't seem to notice the comment. He seemed almost dazed. "Thomas, I'm not sure about this but..." + + Renier hesitated such a long moment Thomas had to take a better hold on what was left of his patience. "Go on," he said in a level tone. + + "A knight stationed on the Prince's Gate Tower reported to me a short while ago. He said they could see fires and fighting in the streets. It's not just the palace quarter; it's the city." + + Chapter Nine + + RENIER SPREAD THE gilt-edged map on the table and indicated a spot with one calloused finger. "The Cisternan Barracks were overwhelmed in the first few moments." He cast a worried glance at Commander Vivan, who was slumped in a chair by the fire. + + "They came through St. Anne's Gate, then?" Thomas asked. + + "No. Mind, the reports we have come from grooms and stableboys who were able to seal off the Mews to keep the creatures out of the Old Courts, but they said the attack seemed to come from the inner gate into the palace, not the outer gate. As to how that was managed..." Renier shook his head. + + They were in the Queen's Guard House, in one of the small rooms adjacent to the practice hall. The walls were hung with leather and parchment maps and the door was open to the hum of talk from the hall. They knew the human, or once-human, members of the Host had been used as cannon fodder in the initial attack, and that the fay had come after, but Thomas felt they still did not have an accurate picture of how the invasion had taken place. He said, "We still don't know what that explosion was." + + "It wasn't the city armories. You can see them from the top of the inner wall. But that's what everyone thought. The off-duty Queen's guards were heading that way to repel what they thought was an attack through St. Anne's Gate when they were stopped at the Old Hall. My men were right behind them." + + Thomas saw Gideon drawing breath to make a comment, and cleared his throat. Their eyes met and the younger man subsided with disgruntled reluctance. Most of the guards felt that the main body of the Albon Knights should have followed them down into the Old Hall, instead of staying in the relative safety at the top of the stairs. Thomas was willing to concede that someone had to hold the siege doors; whether the task had required almost the entire Albon troop was another matter. But it had been an act of disorganization rather than cowardice, and he wanted to keep the trouble among the two troops to a minimum. Looking back to Renier, Thomas said, "In the cellars it sounded as if the explosion was almost directly overhead; it must have been somewhere in the Gallery Wing." + + "But there's nothing there to explode, not with that sort of force, not unless they brought it with them," Renier protested. + + "Maybe they did." Vivan's voice startled them. + + Only an accident of history had placed the Queen's Guard House in the area protected by the ancient wards of the inner walls. They had lost far too many men as it was, but the Cisternan Guard, and their families living within the barracks and adjacent to it, had been nearly destroyed. + + After a moment, Renier cleared his throat. "We should hear from the commanders of the city levies by morning." + + Thomas shook his head. There were over six thousand city volunteers, half musketeers and half pikemen, organized into regiments based on their neighborhoods. Both the crown and the Ministry had the right to call them out, but in the chaos of this night that would be impossible. "The city levies won't be able to form; they'll be too busy defending their own homes and it will be suicide to go out into the streets tonight." + + Renier regarded the map again. "The Host has never attacked in force before. It has harried travelers, solitary farmsteads, but never... Well, the gate garrisons will be trapped inside until daylight at least. The Host can't attack when the sun's out." + + Thomas had been told by Kade that the main body of the Host was composed of powerful quarrelsome spirits from the Unseelie Court, who could agree on nothing but revelry and fighting the Seelie Court, their opposites in Fayre. In their wake would be fay predators: hags, bogles, spriggans, things that haunted lonely places or preyed on travelers. Thomas said, "They can't attack in the kind of organized force they used on us in the Old Palace, but there's a mob of dark fay following them like scavengers after an army. They aren't organized, but they can stand the daylight and they will attack at any opportunity." + + Renier pursed his lips in disapproval. "You heard that from Kade Carrion, I assume. I'd prefer another source for that intelligence." + + Thomas controlled an inexplicable surge of irritation, and without too much acid in his voice asked, "Who else did you have in mind to question?" + + Frowning, Renier shook his head. "Still... There's no help for it, I suppose. Does she know if Grandier is aiding them?" + + "No, but he must be involved somehow." Thomas considered a moment. "The Host was depending on surprise, and they had help. Someone knew to go down into that cellar and take the keystone, and whoever it was is probably still here with us." Dontane might have known who that traitor was, but he must have died with the other prisoners and the guards in the Cisternan Guard House. + + Renier looked up. "Perhaps the man who killed Dr. Braun got the location of the keystone out of him before he died." + + Thomas managed not to roll his eyes. "Braun was killed instantly; he wasn't tortured for information." + + "If we could get the keystone back--" + + "It could be hidden anywhere." Thomas shook his head, frustrated. "We can't count on that." + + "Well, we can't beat our heads about it now." Renier leaned over the map. "The corridors in the outer walls have been sealed. The rooftops and the open areas of the Old Courts are protected by the wards, and the iron-shod siege doors are keeping them from coming through the King's Bastion to us. The only thing we can do now is wait it out." + + If Renier wanted to "wait it out" with a traitor in their camp it was his business. But Thomas had no reason to argue the point while he still had a few more preparations to make. + + Lord General Villon and the siege engine cavalry were posted at the Granges, a royal fortress about fifty-five miles to the south. It was the mobile force closest to the city, except for Denzil's small private garrison still in residence at Bel Garde. The fay might be able to take the city, but they couldn't hold it. They couldn't close the iron-hinged gates, use the cannon mounted on the walls, or the stockpiles of arms. Villon had proven troops and a populace that would rise to aid him as soon as they saw his flags. + + Renier rolled up his map and went back out into the hall. Thomas caught Gideon's arm and said softly, "If anyone's going to offer to hold Renier's sword while he falls on it, it's going to be me; is that clear, Sir?" + + Gideon smiled reluctantly. "Yes, Sir, it's clear." + + As the others left, Thomas hesitated a moment over Vivan, but he had no idea what to say to him. + + He walked out through the hall, where things were beginning to calm down as the night wore on without attack. The refugees in the house were mainly palace servants and retainers who didn't mind bedding down on a clear space of floor as long as there was a roof overhead and plenty of iron lying about. They were stretched out on blankets along the walls or huddled in groups telling each other their horror stories from the last few hours. Their children played on the second-floor balconies with nerveless unconcern, but no one apparently felt secure enough to put out any of the lanterns, despite the number of people trying to sleep. The only real disturbance was an old woman kneeling in the far corner praying at the top of her lungs, while a nervous young girl anxiously pleaded with her to stop. + + Queen's guards and the few remaining Cisternans were prowling the house like caged cats, checking their weapons over and over again and alert for anything. The refugees of higher class were crowded in the Albon Tower and the Gate Bastion, with the King's Bastion being kept as a buffer area between the fay in the Old Palace and the fortified court. Thomas had preferred this arrangement, knowing that if he had to have a large group of civilians under his protection in a battle, it was better to have ones who were trained to take orders without question. Ravenna and Falaise and their entourages were safely ensconced on an upper floor. + + In the entrance hall he found Phaistus, standing before the partly open doors and looking tentatively up at the cloudy night sky. "What are you doing?" Thomas asked him. + + Phaistus jumped, then shifted the heavy coil of rope tucked under his arm. "Berham wanted this in the tower, Captain." + + His reluctance was understandable. On the open roads of the country, the Host traditionally attacked from above, swooping down on men like hawks on mice. Except that hawks were unquestionably kinder in dispatching their mice quickly than the Host would be with human captives. The wards still clinging to this side of the palace were supposed to protect them while outside, but the wards had failed before. + + "Well, come on then." Thomas hauled him out into the open court. + + The night air was chill, the court lit only by light seeping through cracks in shutters and closed doors. The Albon Tower high above them was only a dim shape in the darkness, clouds streaming swiftly across the moon. Phaistus hurried along in Thomas's shadow, casting worried glances at the sky. + + The first level of the tower had become an infirmary, and the sick familiar odor of cauterization hit Thomas as soon as he went in. + + The wounded lay on pallets along the walls of the high-ceilinged hall. There were women and children among them, far too many. They had been hacked up by the bronze blades of the human servants of the Host, burned in the sporadic fires that had broken out from overturned lamps, or bitten and clawed by the fay. There were no victims of elf-shot. If someone was hit by one of those tiny harmless-looking stones he fell down and never moved or spoke again, no better than breathing dead, and was lucky if starvation or thirst killed him before the stone found his heart. Anyone struck by elf-shot had been left behind, or smothered by Dr. Lambe or one of the other apothecaries. + + Fires had been lit in the two great hearths, and dozens of lamps and candles added their stains to the smoke-blackened rafters. The furniture had been pushed aside to make way for more pallets, and Thomas had to climb over a couple of tables to reach the other end of the room. It brought back less-than-pleasant memories of the Bisran War, of border villages overrun and taken before the inhabitants could scatter into the forest, and of the aftermath of battle. + + Dr. Lambe stood near the long draw table where bags of instruments and jars of medicinal herbs were laid out. He looked exhausted and considerably the worse for wear. He looked up at Thomas's approach and said, "Captain, when can we leave?" + + "As soon as it's daylight. The Host won't be able to form then." Thomas made himself sound sure despite his own doubts. + + Lambe didn't look reassured. "And how sure are we of that?" + + "I have it on fairly good authority." He had to admit, "What might be wandering the streets is another matter, but they won't be after just anyone." + + Lambe glanced upward. The King was on one of the upper floors, guarded heavily. "You're right about that." + + The palace was a trap, and they couldn't afford to be caught in it. Ravenna and Roland would have to be gotten to safety. Whether Ravenna likes it or not, Thomas thought. His first choice was to get them out of the city and to Villon at the Granges--and they would have to be together. Roland would be swept under by the chaos and lose his throne to the first opportunist with a troop. Ravenna could ride the storm. + + Galen Dubell crossed the room toward them. Like Dr. Lambe, the hem and sleeves of his robe were stained with dried blood. "What sort of protections are we employing for the evacuation?" he asked. + + Before Thomas could answer, an Albon knight stepped up to them and said, "His Majesty requires an audience, Captain Boniface." + + Thomas looked at him, but the knight's face betrayed nothing. After a moment he said, "Very well," and turned to Dubell. "Doctor, could you send a message to my lady Ravenna and let her know I'll be unable to attend her for a short time?" + + Startled, Dubell looked from Dr. Lambe's stricken expression to the other Albon knights who had suddenly appeared in the room. He said, "Yes, of course." + + Thomas followed the knight to the bottom of the narrow stairwell that led up into the tower, where there were two more Albons waiting for them. He took in their appearance without comment and they started up the stair. + + It was a long way up to the fifth level of the tower, the many lamps that illuminated the stone steps making the air smoky and close. There were knights standing guard at each level. + + On the landing there were two more Albons at the wide oaken door. The knight who had come after Thomas smiled and said, "His Majesty has requested that you disarm before coming in to him." + + Thomas met his eyes. As a member of the Queen's Guard and an appointed officer he had the right to go armed in the royal presence, and he also knew what any sort of protest to that effect would mean to Roland, and what would happen if they searched him inside and found a concealed weapon. + + In silence he handed over both pistols, his main gauche, boot dagger, and unbuckled the rapier from his baldric. + + One of the knights opened the door and they went inside. + + The room was far too warm and too crowded. The gold threads in the red tapestries caught the candlelight and cast it back. There were more Albon knights, all showing signs of the past battle. Some of Roland's younger courtiers were playing cards at a table in a corner, and somewhere out of sight a musician played a soprano recorder. Renier wasn't present. Roland was seated in a tapestry-draped armchair, Denzil at his side. + + As Thomas bowed, Roland said, "Kneel, Sir." + + Even though he was hearing the latch of a trap snap shut, it was second nature to make it look like an easy gesture. + + Denzil smiled lazily and said something inaudible to Roland that made the young King giggle and redden with embarrassment. Thomas realized Roland was not drunk yet, but he was definitely well on the way, and he would have bet anything it was Denzil's doing. + + Roland fiddled with a torn piece of lace on his cuff, his eyes large and dark. "What is my mother doing now?" + + "She's resting, Your Majesty." Thomas kept his expression even and his voice level. The room had quieted, and the courtiers were watching with a fascinated intensity that combined sly amusement at someone else's misfortune and fear for their own necks. + + "And my Queen? My cousin has said she refuses to attend me here." + + Thomas wondered if Falaise knew she had refused to attend Roland. Probably not. "She isn't well, Your Majesty, and your mother required her to stay in her rooms." This was a lie, but he wasn't going to throw the young Queen to the wolves to save his own skin. If the matter doesn't become academic in the next few moments. + + Roland said, "Oh." Even at this time, he realized Falaise was not likely to ignore a direct order from Ravenna. But Denzil nudged him with an elbow, causing the knight standing guard behind their chairs to tighten his grip on his sword-hilt. Thus prompted, Roland said, "And my sister?" + + "She's in the Guard House, Your Majesty." + + Denzil idly twisted one of his rings. His hands were trembling slightly, probably from excitement. He said, "She was seen smearing blood on the lintels and cornerposts of the Guard House. Now why was she doing that, we wonder?" + + How the hell should I know? "I don't know, Your Majesty." Thomas directed his answer to Roland, just to see Denzil's expression tighten with anger. It was hardly likely to be anything detrimental; even Kade wouldn't put a curse on a house and then settle down in it for the night. And she obviously hadn't made a secret of what she had done. It sounded more like a feast-day practice one of the foreign cults in the city performed. + + Roland absently rubbed the carved arm of the chair, thinking over his next move. Denzil leaned toward him familiarly, watching Thomas out of the corner of his eye, and whispered something. Roland giggled and looked guilty. + + Thomas allowed himself to look just slightly bored. Denzil's attempts to prey on his nerves were having more effect on the Albon who was standing behind him and could hear what he was saying. + + Finally Roland said, "Perhaps you told her to do it." + + "Why would I do that, Your Majesty?" Thomas had always known that if he had to die to please a royal ego, he wanted it to be as scandalous, messy, and politically inconvenient for as many persons as possible. Disappearing into the depths of the Albon Tower was not a scenario he preferred. + + Roland didn't answer immediately. He bit his lower lip and looked at his cousin. + + Denzil stood and strolled around the room, behind Thomas and out of his sight. He said, "We don't know what part she had in this attack." + + Thomas kept his eyes on Roland. "She was almost killed in the retreat from the main hall." Defending her this way could be dangerous for both of them, but he wasn't sure what Denzil was after. + + Roland looked surprised. "She was?" + + Standing too near him, Denzil brushed Thomas's hair aside to reveal the pearl drop in his right ear. "That's a gift from the Dowager Queen, is it not?" + + The door opened and a knight bowed his way in. "Pardon, Your Majesty." + + Denzil stepped away from Thomas. Roland shifted in his chair nervously. "What is it?" + + "The Queen... The Dowager Queen has sent a messenger requesting Captain Boniface's immediate presence." + + All eyes in the room went to Roland as most of those present realized the implications of this. Thomas thought, Don't provoke her, boy, not now. Ravenna was exhausted and angry and sitting on top of the best-organized force left in the palace with an armory at her back. But if Roland pushed her into a civil war just because he could, then he didn't deserve to be King, let alone to live. + + Roland stared at the knight. Denzil started to speak but abruptly Roland waved him to silence and said, "Fine, then, go on. I'm tired." + + Thomas stood, bowed, and left the room. He collected his weapons in complete silence from the knights on the landing, then went down the stairs. Martin was pacing restlessly near the outside door. + + Reaching him, Thomas said, "Tell her you saw me outside and I'll be there in a few moments." + + Martin said, "Yes, Sir," and bolted back across the court. Thomas went the other way, along the tower's wall, until he came to a place in deep shadow but with a good view of the door. + + He pulled his cloak around him and stood with folded arms, watching the cloud-strewn sky. The cool wind lifted the hair off the back of his neck, and he thought for a few moments about treason and murder. + + But he had learned more from Denzil than the Duke had from him. He thought He had me. He was sure of it. He had tried to provoke Thomas to fight. He wanted Ravenna and Roland at each other's throats; he wanted the palace in chaos. + + Denzil was confident. He had expected the attack. + + He took the keystone, or he ordered it done. Never mind how he knew where it was; I'll work that out later. He may have killed Braun himself. And I don't have a shred of proof against him. + + There was only one thing Denzil could want in return for treason of such a magnitude. + + The young Duke of Alsene had so much already from Roland. Would he abandon a secure existence on a chancy bid for the throne, based on such infirm ground as the help of a foreign sorcerer? But is Denzil's existence secure? Thomas asked himself. Or more importantly, does he think his existence is secure? Roland was still Ravenna's son, and Fulstan's. He could have Denzil killed on a whim, at any time. And he was still a young man; he could become as changeable in later life as his father had. + + As a patch of moonlight illuminated the court, a swift smooth shadow crossed it. Something large enough to be flying above the wards yet throw a man-sized shadow on the pearl gray paving stones. + + Thomas leaned back against the wall, his dark clothing blending into the rough stonework. A reminder from the Host. + + As it passed out of sight and the clouds crept back over the moon, the Albon knight he had suspected was following him stepped quietly out into the court from the door of the tower. + + Thomas waited until the man gave up and disappeared back inside, then started back to the Guard House. + + Denzil was in league with Grandier, and regardless of the consequences, he was going to have to die. + + * * * + + In the Guard House, Kade was sitting on the floor near the stairs. She turned over another card from the deck she had found, winced, swept the scattered cards together, and reshuffled them. Something was happening in the Albon Tower, something interesting, and no one would tell her about it. Who can I pry it out of, she wondered, looking speculatively around the quiet hall and laying out the cards again. + + No one seemed to find her presence objectionable. The refugees had brought her everything from amulets to prayer books to bless for luck, and she had collected several apples, an egg, a few ribbons, and a battered daisy as propitiatory gifts. The guards were all nobles and so less superstitious, but treated her as a sort of mascot, which was better behavior than she had had from anyone connected with the crown in a long time. They knew who had been on the wrong side of the bastion's siege doors with them, and were acting accordingly. + + Falaise had sent her a pair of boots. The woman who had brought them had said they were a boy-page's boots, made for a masque last month and brought along accidentally in the trunk the Queen's ladies had hastily packed before leaving the King's Bastion, but the Queen had "thought they would suit best." She meant they looked big enough, Kade thought. Falaise and her ladies had small perfect feet, not ugly long-toed things better suited for walking on tree branches. But the boots were soft, blue-stamped leather with gold stitching, and she liked them immensely. + + She rubbed the bruised lump on her head thoughtfully. That is, no one objected to her presence openly. She still didn't know what she had been hit with in the retreat to the King's Bastion. An object that small of wood or stone would have certainly startled her, but not knocked her reeling and half-conscious against the banister. No, the object had been cold iron, and no fay had cast it at her. + + And Thomas Boniface had carried her up the stairs. + + That had triggered a memory, a tactile child's memory. She had been six or seven, playing on the warm dusty stones of a palace court with servants' children, and suddenly found herself among a forest of sharp hooves and tall equine legs, horses snorting and dancing around her. For a moment she had found it wonderful. But just as fear had time to set in, a strong arm had caught her around the waist and lifted her out of danger with a muttered "And what do you think you're doing." She had been deposited on the side of the court out of harm's way, and left with a memory of a deep voice and a masculine scent combined with the musky sweat of horses. + + Her father had heard about it somehow. He heard about everything somehow. He had called her a whore. When she had told Galen about it, he had slammed things around his small study and muttered to himself for an hour, but he was not quite worldly enough to realize what was bothering her and explain it away. It wasn't until weeks later when a scrubwoman had explained to her what a whore was that she understood she couldn't possibly be one. A whore, she thought, old stale anger rising again. At that age and about as alluring as an awkward puppy. It's a wonder that I'm not mad as a wool-dyer. It was a wonder she wasn't as helplessly at sea in the world as Roland was. + + "Excuse me, my lady?" + + She looked up to see a nervous dark-haired gentlewoman on the stairs above, looking down at her hesitantly. Kade thought her one of Falaise's ladies, but she wasn't the one who had come before. Then the woman said, "My lady, the lady Ravenna would like to speak to you in her chamber." + + "Oh," Kade said. She collected the cards and stood up. + + She followed the woman up the lamplit stairs to the third floor. The rooms Ravenna and Falaise had taken were in a single suite. There was a group of Queen's guards and two Cisternans standing in the anteroom having a low-voiced, intense, and agitated conversation Kade was sure would have been quite interesting, but the gentlewoman opened the inner door to Ravenna's chamber for her, curtseyed, and fled. + + Ravenna sat alone near the shuttered window, head turned to look down at the empty hearth. A few carved chests stood open, and richly embroidered robes and rugs were tumbled about and piled in the chairs. Kade fought a surge of anxiety that suddenly welled up in her gut; she was not a child anymore. + + "I wanted to know your intentions." Ravenna turned to look at her, finally. "Why you are still here." + + Kade looked down and noticed her feet again. She said, "Why shouldn't I be here?" + + "'Why shouldn't I be,'" Ravenna mocked. "Your wit astonishes me. Of course, everything I've built with my life and my blood is tumbling down around my ears; why shouldn't you stay and watch?" + + "If you already know then why are you asking?" Kade said it quietly, and looked up to deliberately meet Ravenna's eyes. That was good. I did that well. + + "Oh, never mind." It was Ravenna who looked away. "I suppose if you actually had some sort of motive, you would give me an answer." + + Kade sighed, then realized the old Queen's sharp eyes were on her again and felt a chill that didn't come from the air. Ravenna had set a trap for that telltale expression of relief. "Well," Ravenna said slowly. "Do you still want the throne?" + + "No! I just said that; I didn't mean it." I should have known that would come back to haunt me. "Can't you just leave me out of your idiot power struggles?" But it was easy to talk about the throne. Ravenna couldn't understand how little it meant to her. + + Ravenna's mouth hardened. "No, I cannot. I'm old, and frightened. I get angry when I'm frightened and your brother does not know when to stop pressing me. Or rather, he lets Denzil tell him that it is all some sort of game, and that his mother will forgive him anything, because she wants him on the throne. Well, I'm having second thoughts about that." + + "Don't bother having first thoughts about me, because I won't do it." + + Ravenna's hard eyes came back to her again, cynical and doubting. Kade said, "I'm serious. It's hard enough being a queen in Fayre, but this is...real." + + "I wish Roland knew that. I tried to teach him to rule, but he doesn't understand. Our people aren't serf-slaves, like Bisran peasants. They'll riot in the cities and rebel over the vine-growers' excise in the country. The balances of power that must be maintained among the nobles of this city alone..." She tapped her fingers on the chair arm and shook her head. "I push Roland, to test him, to make him strong, but he backs away. Then he lets Denzil goad him into pushing me too far." + + Kade looked at her curiously. Even in the soft candlelight Ravenna was all glinting sharp edges, her sharp profile, her jewels, her eyes. She wondered if her brother understood that someday his mother would be gone, and there would be nothing to cushion him from the battleground of the court. "If not Roland, and not me, then who?" + + Ravenna seemed to ignore the question. She said, "I planned it so carefully. I let the Ministry gain power. The nobles," she invested the word with considerable contempt, "clung to each other in salons all over the city, alternately whining and shouting about it, but they couldn't stop me. I reduced the walls of their private strongholds, took away their private armies, so if the flower of nobility wanted to rebel against Roland they'd have a damned hard time doing it. And Aviler has some concept of how a state should function; he would have been able to keep Roland from making too bloody a fool of himself. I made an enemy of Aviler, even though his father was one of my closest friends, because if I had ever shown him favor Roland would never have listened to him. Of course, Roland never listened to him anyway. And now we don't know where Aviler is, or if he's alive." She stopped and looked away. "If not you, then no one." + + Kade anchored her eyes on the floor. She is already speaking of Roland in the past tense. + + After a long moment of silence Ravenna said, "I'm rather an all-or-nothing sort of person when it comes to violence. Roland doesn't understand that." + + There was a returning quality of strength and calculation in her tone that made Kade look up at her. + + The old Queen was watching her carefully again. "Thomas is rather an all-or-nothing sort of person when it comes to loyalty. I don't think anyone at court understands that, excepting myself and the Guardsmen. You could come to understand it." + + Kade stared at her, feeling completely transparent under that gaze. A slow flush of heat reddened her cheeks. + + Ravenna said, "Are you sure you won't reconsider my offer? The benefits are considerable." + + She said, "Listen, you dried-up old bitch--" + + Ravenna smiled. + + Kade took a deep breath to give herself enough air to get the words out. "If you want my help in pulling your fat out of the fire, then you can damn well keep your offers and your speculations to yourself, because I don't want to hear them and I won't, do you understand?" + + "Quite well, thank you, dear." Ravenna nodded pleasantly. + + Kade stalked out the door and slammed it behind her. + + The anteroom was empty. Why do I stay here? Kade raged at herself. I meant to cut off all these old ties, say what I wanted to say, and forget about all of it. To get some peace at last. But I've done nothing but get into stupid arguments with Roland and make Ravenna think she can put me under her thumb again. How dare she even imply... Imply what? + + She paced a tight circle in the anteroom, remembering Ravenna's smile at her angry response. Did I just make a mistake? + + The door to the hall opened and Thomas walked in. Kade jumped guiltily. + + "Did you put blood on the lintels and the cornerposts of this house?" he asked her, keeping his voice low. + + She held her hand out, to show him the fresh cut across the white skin of her palm, and thought, He has such dark eyes, like velvet. She was starting to blush again, for no accountable reason. To distract herself, she asked, "What happened while you were gone?" + + He regarded her for a moment. "What is it for?" + + God, can no one answer a direct question? She folded her arms and looked at the floor. "To keep fay out. To let them know I'm in here, and that I'm not receiving visitors." + + "Will it work?" + + She shook her head. "Not that well. The ones it will keep out wouldn't be that difficult to deal with anyway. But it's something." + + "Why did you choose here, and not one of the other buildings?" + + Not wanting to answer, she began to tap one foot in growing irritation. He waited. Finally she looked up and said, "I like it here. There, are you happy?" + + He said, "Delighted," and went into Ravenna's room. + + Well, I handled that brilliantly, Kade thought. A soft noise made her glance back and she saw Falaise standing in the doorway to her room. She was wearing a pale blue heavily embroidered mantua and her hair hung like a chestnut curtain. She looked like a startled fawn. "What is it?" Kade asked her, temporarily distracted. + + Falaise made a noise like a strangled gasp and vanished back into her room. + + Kade followed her. Inside was the tumbled splendor of a parlor attached to a small bedchamber, three ladies-in-waiting looking up at them in surprise. Falaise stopped in the middle of the room and shrieked, "Out! I want to be alone." It wasn't the full-throated bellow Ravenna was capable of but it worked well enough. As the gentlewomen scurried for the door, Kade stayed where she was, correctly surmising that the order had not been directed at her. + + As soon as the door closed behind the last woman, Falaise seized a wine glass from the table and dashed its contents onto the polished floorboards. As Kade stared, the Queen shoved a chair away from the wall that adjoined the Dowager Queen's quarters and crawled under a table, placing the glass to the wall and her ear on the glass. + + "What are you doing?" Kade asked, baffled. + + "There's a weak board here. I can hear through to Ravenna's room." + + "Brilliant!" Kade climbed onto the table and pressed her ear to the wall, but couldn't hear anything but muffled voices. "What are they saying?" + + "Shhh." + + Short of dragging Falaise out from under the table by the ankles and taking her place, which would cause them to miss some of the conversation, there was nothing to do but wait. Kade paced, tangled her fingers in her hair, and tried to contain herself. + + Finally, as doors slammed out in the anteroom, Falaise crawled out from under the table and sat back on the floor with a sigh. + + Kade bounced with excitement. "Well?" + + Falaise scrubbed wine out of her ear with the sleeve of her mantua. "It was a terrific fight." + + "About what?" + + "He has a plan for leaving the palace because we're going to be attacked by the fay again. He said they're just waiting, they have a traitor inside helping them, and that when they can come through cracks in the walls, we can't hope to keep them out forever." + + "He's right." + + Falaise sat back on the floor, hugging her knees, looking up at her quizzically. "Are the wards working?" The question was anxious, but not panicky. + + Kade decided to tell her the truth. "They're working up above us. But most of them aren't touching the ground anymore. It's only the siege doors and the gates keeping the Host out." + + "I see." The Queen bit her lip. + + "But what did they fight about?" Kade demanded. + + "We're going to be leaving in the morning. But Ravenna doesn't like some part of the plan, and it made her very angry. She yelled and threw things, and said she didn't intend to die alone." + + "Really?" + + "Yes, and he told her she was too mean to die at all, alone or in company, and if she thought he was fool enough to fall for these mock hysterics then she should think again and she was going anyway if he had to tie her to a horse." Falaise shook her head, an irritated kitten. "Something happened in the Albon Tower, something to do with Roland and Denzil. But she already seemed to know what it was, and they didn't discuss any details." + + "Hell, that's not much." Maybe I can find out more downstairs. As Kade reached for the door Falaise said, "If you find out anything else, will you come and tell me?" + + "All right." + + "Thank you." + + Leaving the room, Kade wondered if Falaise had heard her own conversation with Ravenna, and if it mattered. It might. She is full of surprises. + + * * * + + Thomas crossed the hall and went into the map room. The fire burned low behind the grate and Vivan was gone; he was unsure if that was a good sign or not. He stood for a moment contemplating a faded parchment map of the city on the table. He needed to go back up to Ravenna, but he didn't trust his temper quite yet. + + He knew she would agree to his plan. She wouldn't let emotion get in the way of necessity for too long, and it was only his part in it that disturbed her. + + And whatever she did, he didn't intend to give in to her this time. + + "Captain! Captain, look!" someone shouted from outside the room. Stepping toward the door, he saw Gideon surrounded by a noisy group of guards and conducting another man across the hall in an apparently friendly headlock. + + Thomas started forward as Gideon released his captive with an affectionate shake, and felt an idiot grin spreading over his face as he saw who it was. + + Lucas and a younger guard named Gerard, whom they had also given up for dead, staggered into the room under the enthusiastic greetings of their comrades. + + Lucas grinned back at him. "What are you gaping at?" + + "Why aren't you dead?" Thomas caught the older man in an embrace. "And where the hell have you been?" + + Lucas dropped onto a bench at the table. "I've been banging on a bloody gate, trying to get the idiot on the other side to let us in. Before that we were crawling through the streets on our bellies. Look, God bless that man for a saint!" + + Anticipating the request, Phaistus was bringing in an armful of wine bottles and tankards. + + As the wine was passed around, Lucas said, "It's a wonderful story; do you want to hear the version where I climbed the St. Anne's Gate in a hail of heathen arrows with my sword in my teeth and a fainting Gerard slung over one shoulder?" + + "You lying bastard!" Gerard objected, slamming down the tankard that someone had just handed him, spraying everyone around him with the contents. + + "We got out the Postern Gate, actually," Lucas admitted more soberly. "It's a ruin, no sign of anyone. We couldn't come along the outside wall; there's a lot of somethings-or-others congregated along it that we didn't want too close a look at. We had to go several streets over to get around and back to the Prince's Gate. There's a very large hole in the park side of the Gallery Wing. I couldn't get very close but it looked as though something erupted out of the floor in the Grand Gallery." + + Thomas knew Lucas well enough to recognize the fear in his eyes. That fear was masked by bluff, as it was in most men, and the louder the bluff the greater the fear. It was very loud in that room right now. "Out of the floor?" he asked. "Are you certain?" + + "Yes. Don't ask me what it was; I've no idea. If we hadn't been in the portico and halfway outside already when it happened, we'd be dead." Lucas turned his tankard around thoughtfully. "As it was we lost Arians, Brandon, and Lesard." He looked up. "That I know of." + + Thomas told him. "Twenty-six altogether, not counting you two." + + "That many." Lucas looked away. + + "What's it like in the city?" Gideon asked softly. + + "It was hard to tell. We saw some houses broken into and burned out, but others locked up tight. No one's out on the streets anymore that we could see. There was ten or so palace-folk that crept out after us, but they decided to chance it in the city. We thought we'd try to make it back here so we could die with our friends like gentlemen." He looked around at everyone. "So? How have you lot been keeping busy?" + + Chapter Ten + + THOMAS AWOKE KNOWING what it felt like to be a corpse--stiff and cold. The fire had burnt down to coals, and seemed to be emitting nothing but a dim red glow. Any heat produced was lost in the frigid air. He eased out of the chair and started pulling wood out of the stacked pile beside the hearth. His hands were numb. + + The kindling he dumped on the coals caught and he started to add the logs. After a timeless wait the heavier wood started to burn and he began to feel alive, and only two or three times his age. + + Sitting on the floor in front of the fire and still shivering, he heard the timber frame of the house creak protestingly against the onslaught of a harsh wind. It was an oddly sudden cold spell for this time of year. + + They should be due for two to three more months of fall rain before winter set in. It nevergot this cold until after midwinter. + + He climbed to his feet and found his cloak on the floor across the room and bundled up in it, then went out into the hall. Only two lanterns were lit there now, and it was as cold as a saint's bed. An old house with this many restless bodies crowded into it could never be entirely silent, but all the sounds--footsteps of patrolling guards creaking the boards on an upper story, the fitful stirring of sleepers on the hall floor, a child's frustrated crying--were oddly muted. Shadowy forms wrapped in blankets stumbled around the dark cavern of the hall's huge fireplace, building up a fire in the hearth that had been scraped clean and unused since last winter. Once they got the blaze going, warmth from the chimney would help heat the upper floors, though not nearly enough for comfort. + + Thomas started upstairs, buttoning up the sleeves of his doublet. + + There was a small window looking out into the court from the second-floor landing. Ice was starting to form on it already. Clouds still streamed across the sky, allowing the shrinking moon to briefly illuminate the court one moment, leaving it in pitch darkness the next. He could hear the wind howling, and the front wall protesting faintly in response. + + He didn't hear Kade's footsteps but was somehow unsurprised when he noticed her standing beside him. + + She said, "Grandier had to work on this for days." + + He looked down at her but there wasn't quite enough light to see her expression. She looked like a fanciful drawing of a gypsy with her hair flying in all directions and a torn piece of petticoat dragging the ground. She wore a blanket over her shoulders and the night muted the red of her dress, making her look very human and solid. He asked, "How did he do it?" + + "A shift in the wind one day, gather clouds from over the sea the next. Very slow work, and very subtle. Oh, it might have made it a little cooler than it should have been, or there was less rain or more rain. But who would notice?" + + The slender moon peeping through a gap in the swift-moving darkness above revealed clouds like monoliths, black streaming giants crossing the sky. + + Thomas watched the clouds. This was obviously meant to be the last nail in their coffin, trapping them within the city, forestalling aid. "Can you do anything?" + + She shrugged. "The spells to do this were set and done months ago, when the forces were favorable. Now the planets aren't in the right houses for influencing the weather, and they won't begin to favor atmospheric magic for another month at least. His timing of its arrival is excellent, and there's no saying how long it will last. Galen might know of something to try, but I don't. I'm only the Queen of Air and Darkness by inheritance, and I don't have a degree in philosophy from Lodun." + + They stood there quiet for a time. The wind's fury made the timber and stone wall of the house seem flimsy, as if they were separated from a vicious animal by only a thin layer of decorative fence. Thomas found himself watching Kade. He was no longer certain what to think about her, and that disturbed him far more than it should, considering everything else there was to worry about. I always try to understand my enemies, he thought, but it's time to admit that the one thing she is not is an enemy. Finally, he asked, "What does it mean to be the Queen of Air and Darkness?" + + Her brow furrowed, she said, "I don't have a kingdom, except for the castles my mother kept. Some of them are in little pockets of the Otherworld, some are in this world, but protected by spells. But in a way... From knowing Titania, Oberon, the other rulers of Fayre, I have the sense that what I am somehow defines what they are. I might exist to balance them, the way they exist to balance the Unseelie Court. But it isn't good and evil, either. I'm not particularly evil most of the time, and they aren't particularly good hardly any of the time, at least not by human standards." She shivered, and the moonlight brought silver to her hair. "The Unseelie Court doesn't approve of balance, and they're always scheming to upset things. My mother Moire accepted a wager from them, that she could steal all the grain from Oberon's stables without missing a single seed. She got past the fay guarding the stables by changing herself into a beautiful white mare, and she made all the grain vanish--except for one flax seed. The Unseelie Court had suborned a flower sprite that lived in the stable, and it hid the seed in the bell of a flower, so Moire couldn't find it. So she lost the wager, and they sent her to Hell. They seemed to think I should be grateful for it. She wasn't a nice person and we didn't exactly live in a state of joy together, but she was my mother." After a moment she seemed to shake off the recollection and pulled her blanket more closely around her. "The weather will be worse tomorrow. Grandier wouldn't have spared us the snow." + + Thomas hadn't missed the hurried change of subject. He wondered why she had told him so much. He asked, "Spared us?" + + Kade looked up at him. + + "When did it become 'us'?" + + She turned from the window and started to walk away, but stopped after a few steps. "Do you remember me?" she asked. + + Because of the intimacy of standing here in the shadows watching death come out of the north, or just that he was becoming used to her way of speaking, he knew what she meant. He said, "Not the way you looked, not really. Not very well." + + "I remember you." + + He didn't reply. The silence stretched, and Kade faded back into the shadows. + + Thomas turned away from the window and went down the stairs and back to the map room. The weather was one more thing to worry about, one more factor to take into account. At least a freeze would put off the possibility of a plague brewing up among the unburied dead in the east quarter of the palace, and the rest of the city. + + As he neared the open door of the map room, he saw an outline of a long cloak or robe silhouetted by the edge of the firelight. Someone was there. Thomas stopped in the doorway, feeling an inexplicable chill that had nothing to do with the cold. + + But a flare-up from the fire showed him it was only Galen Dubell warming his hands near the hearth, his stooped shoulders shivering faintly underneath his heavy robe. + + Stepping into the room, Thomas said, "You're awake early, Doctor." + + The sorcerer looked up and smiled. "It's a trifle cold for my old bones." He shook his head. "I'll begin work on counter-measures against this weather as soon as it's light. You realize it is not natural." + + "Kade told me." Thomas lit the candlelamps with a twig from the fire, and began to go through the maps stacked on the table, looking for the one of the city walls and the solid paths through the water meadows. Under the maps, he found the pile of translated Bisran court documents instead. They had been sent over the night of the attack, and he had never had the chance to look at them. + + Dubell took the armchair near the hearth that Commander Vivan had occupied some hours ago. "I must admit, Kade is not the same girl I once tutored," he said. + + Thomas sat down on the bench and began idly paging through the trial documents. He said, "I would hope not." The list of questions and answers was much the same as the monk's account had been. Grandier had refused to name accomplices, which must have cost him a great deal. Thomas also thought the Inquisition showed an unhealthy degree of interest in sexual relations with demons. + + After a long silence Dubell said, "I find myself wondering at her motives." + + Thomas looked up. The sorcerer's expression was vaguely troubled. "I don't think it's as complicated as it seems. She has unfinished business with Roland and Ravenna." Thomas had been younger than Kade was now when he had had the devastating and final confrontation with his father, when he had left to pursue the commission of Captain that would allow him to legally and permanently disown his entire family. The urge to try to settle old arguments and angers had been strong, and his attempts along those lines had turned out just as badly as Kade's seemed destined to. + + "Perhaps you're right." But Dubell didn't seem convinced. + + Thomas turned over the last page of the trial transcript and glanced over the next closely written document. A note at the top described it as a Bisran priest's description of Grandier's confession during his questioning. + + Thomas skipped through most of a page of unconvincing preamble as to why this disclosure wasn't violating the sanctity of confession. The rest of it read: + + ...and he confessed to me quite freely. He had not dealt with the darkness, or at least the Evil One as we recognize it. He had been approached by the aspects of the Fay, who had offered him powers beyond the reach of mortal sorcery in exchange for mortal souls, which they must annually tithe to Hell to preserve their soulless immortality. He had refused these offers, but our ill treatment (I but repeat his words) had caused him to reconsider. They had offered him swift travel and flight, but what he would bargain for was the terrible ability to alter his physical form, that no wizard of human blood had been able to accomplish. This would cause great pain to him, and once done he would never be able to resume his own shape, nor any other shape that he would assume and abandon, and it required that he could not assume a shape in an image worn by a living man, he must destroy its original before he could assume it... + + ...before he could assume it. Thomas found himself wiping his hands off on his trouser legs. It had the ring of truth about it as nothing else in the Bisran documents had. It was far too realistic for a Bisran priest, who had been trained to find evil influence in every lung fever and to hate magic like a mortal enemy, to fabricate. This is true; this is what he told them after they drove him mad with torture and accusations. And if you were Grandier, which shape would you choose... He looked up at Galen Dubell. + + The sorcerer was sitting absolutely still and watching him with an expression of thoughtful speculation. He was no longer shivering from the cold. "What are you reading, Captain, that has apparently been so revealing?" + + "Nothing in particular. A dispatch from Portier." Thomas' rapier stood against the wall near the hearth perhaps four steps away. He started to stand. + + "I don't think so." + + The gentle contradiction held no anger, but Thomas stopped. He had betrayed himself somehow, but Dubell had always shown a talent for guessing at others' thoughts. I can't let him kill me now. If he burns these papers and walks out of here no one will ever know until it's far too late. It may already be too late. + + The old sorcerer said, "Perhaps the time for the masquerade is over anyway. But I think I've been found out." + + "It's a priest's report of Grandier's...of your confession during your trial." Thomas slid the document across the table, but the sorcerer didn't take the bait and reach for it. Thomas kept expecting the mask to drop but it didn't. It was still Dubell's face, Dubell's eyes. Dubell's look of regret. + + "Indeed," Urbain Grandier said softly. "I didn't expect to have anyone take it seriously. Not in Bisra, at least. They all believed I was hand in glove with the Prince of Hell, you know. As to how the incriminating document followed me here, I suppose I can credit the Church's league of brotherly spies." + + The fire popped loudly in the silence. Thomas felt the extreme danger that lay in carrying on this conversation but was unable to stop. Knowing and believing were two different things. If a weapon had been in reach, there was a good chance he would have hesitated with it, and that would have been fatal. And he looked up at me over Trevile's dead body and said, "I'm sorry." He said, "Did you do it when you kidnapped him from Lodun?" + + Grandier looked mildly surprised. "Oh, no. It was long before that. I kidnapped myself, you see." + + It would have had to be that way. Dr. Surete's death, and Milam's. It was simplicity itself, he told us, if one had the stomach for it. Grandier watched him with a dead man's eyes. Thomas said, "Why haven't you let the Host in yet? That's part of your bargain, isn't it? Your payment to them." + + "The Unseelie Court did me a great service," Grandier agreed. "I owe them much. The first shape I took was that of the man who served as the secular judge at that farce the Inquisition deemed my trial. He was so cold, so forbidding even to his own family that aping his manner presented no challenge. He was powerful, and I took my revenge as I liked. I lived as him for nearly half a year, before I tired of it. Then it was a young servant in his house, for I needed to move about without drawing attention to myself..." Grandier gestured the memory away, his expression wry in the firelight. "But my plans do not always coincide with those of my associates, a fact they fail to understand." + + A log shifted in the fire and as Grandier reflexively glanced toward it Thomas rolled backward off the bench, grabbed his sword from where it stood against the wall, and whipped off the scabbard. Grandier leapt out of the chair, his hand moving as if he were gathering something out of the air and tossing it. Thomas saw the sorcerer's quick motion and scrambled sideways, coming to his feet as a blue blaze of light struck the wall where he had been. It splashed on the bricks, sizzling and smoking like acid. Thomas threw himself at Grandier with a suicidal lack of caution. But Grandier dodged backward with surprising agility and the tip of the rapier only slashed a yard-long hole in the hanging fold of his sleeve. + + They both saw Kade standing in the doorway at the same time. + + Thomas's first thought was that faced with the situation the only reasonable conclusion she could come to was that he was attacking Galen Dubell. But it was Grandier she was staring at. + + She looked at Grandier with a kind of growing incredulous fury, a combination of wounded pride at being fooled and all-too-human betrayal. The sorcerer looked back at her, and his eyes held all of Dubell's intelligence and wit and the gentle humor he employed on those who pleased him. He said, "No, it wasn't your fault." + + The fury flared and ignited and she took a step toward him. But Grandier's hand came out of his robes and he tossed something at her. It wasn't a deadly flash of sorcerous light. It was a handful of iron filings. + + Iron wouldn't harm Kade as much as it did other fay, but it would interfere with her ability to do magic. Even as Thomas started forward Kade leapt back to avoid the filings and Grandier pushed past her and out the door. As he crossed the threshold, the candles and the fire were extinguished with a hiss as if all had been doused with water, plunging the room into shadow. + + Thomas banged into the heavy table that had somehow moved into his way, shoved it aside, and ran out into the hall. + + Grandier was halfway to the outside door, Kade running after him. The few lamps that were lit extinguished as the sorcerer passed them. Thomas shouted for the guards in the hall to follow him, but in the confusion and darkness he couldn't tell if any heard. + + Thomas caught up with Kade in the entry hall and together they slammed out the door and into the frozen mud and cold of the court. The clouds had opened up again and the moonlight was stark white, the wind a tearing force, and Grandier was nowhere to be seen. + + Kade spun around, trying to look in every direction at once. Thomas did a quick circuit of the court, but found nothing. + + "Damn it, where is he?" he muttered. Grandier, loose in the confusion of the palace... + + As he reached Kade's side again, she looked up and said, "Oh, no." + + Thomas followed her gaze. A shadow had appeared and now grew on the moon's narrow face, becoming larger and larger. It was a blot of greater darkness dropping toward them out of the night. + + She said, "He's opened the wards." + + Without having to discuss it they both went for the nearest shelter, the lee side of the wellhouse. They were too far from the Guard House, from the entrance of any building. The winged fay plunged toward the ground, then seemed to hover above the courtyard, as insubstantial as a shadow. + + The wellhouse's door was on the far side, Thomas knew. They could edge around to it if they were lucky, if the fay beast was half-blind. + + Thomas started to slide along the wall and Kade grabbed his arm and whispered, "Don't move." He hesitated, thinking, Does she know what she's doing? Then he noticed the quality of the light change as the moon's sparkle on the ground around them became almost palpable, and remembered Kade's ability to eavesdrop without being seen, and that one of her fay powers was supposed to be illusion. + + The creature that touched ground lightly in the courtyard was a living shadow, the moonlight seeming to bend away from it. In the jumble of dark shapes that composed it, Thomas could see only a snakelike motion and the pointed delicate razor-outline of a claw held at an unlikely angle. + + Kade was whispering, "Moonlight, shadow, moonlight, shadow..." + + Thomas thought, Thank God we're downwind. Then he saw Grandier, walking toward the bizarre thing. A moment later the creature was aloft, soaring upward at an incredible speed. + + Kade slid down the wall to sit in the mud. + + The illusion around them dissipated into tiny sparkling droplets of light that fell to the ground like beads of dew and disappeared. Fayre glamour, Thomas realized. He said, "Very good," and gave Kade a hand up. + + Kade swayed a bit as she stood, not bothering to brush the mud and dirt off her dress. She shook her head frustratedly and ran a hand through her hair. "He let the wards move back into place, after he was past them. Why did he do that?" + + Thomas assumed it was a rhetorical question. At least, he had no idea how to answer. The door to the Guard House swung open and torchlight poured into the court. There were shouts from the direction of the Albon Tower. The timing was too good. He wondered if Grandier had cast another spell besides the one to extinguish the candles, a spell to create confusion and keep everyone else inside. + + Then Kade demanded, "What did he do with Galen?" + + She was looking up at him, those clear gray eyes angry and beginning to be afraid. Not having read the priest's document, she would not have understood that part of the conversation. He said, "Galen's dead." + + * * * + + "Mother, this seems like cowardice," Roland said. He stood huddled in a heavy fur cloak, attended by Renier and two servants, all dressed for hard riding in frigid weather. The other knights charged with guarding him paced about warily, a short distance away. It was barely dawn, and the sky was a solid gray roof, low and threatening. A half hour ago the wind had died and the snow had begun to fall. + + Ravenna pulled her hood up over her tightly braided hair and adjusted her gloves. "No, dear, it seems like survival." She turned to Elaine, who stood quietly at her elbow. "Wrap your scarf more carefully, child; this cold could ruin your skin." + + Thomas folded his arms and tried not to show his frustration; it was just like Roland to balk at the eleventh hour. Staying in the palace, at Grandier's mercy, was impossible. + + They stood in the court below the Albon Tower, an island of relative calm amid the bustle of preparations for the evacuation. Under his cloak Renier wore a gold-embossed gorget and back- and breastplates as many of the Albon knights did. Thomas and most of the other guards preferred the heavy leather buff coats which offered almost as much protection as the awkward armor pieces and allowed more freedom of movement. In the dim morning light servants ran past, coaches and wagons were being loaded, horses saddled or harnessed, all in apprehensive haste. Nothing had been said about last night's confrontation in the Albon Tower, and nothing would be said, unless Roland was an utter fool. Which is not entirety out of the realm of possibility, Thomas thought. + + "I'm not deserting my court," the King muttered stubbornly. + + "Roland," Ravenna said with a sigh. "You are the court, the crown, and the throne. This place has only symbolic value; you can rule just as well from Portier or the Granges. But only if you're alive." + + The King looked away, a little mollified. "I dislike having them say we ran, that's all." He hesitated a long moment, and Thomas silently contemplated the gray sky and braced himself to let Ravenna handle the next objection. But Roland said, "Is it really true about Dr. Dubell?" + + Panic and rumor had spread through the crowded halls, and Thomas had spent most of the night trying to quell it. Ravenna's eyes went hard and she said, "Yes, it is true." The news had not sat easily with her; she had hated the thought that she could be deceived along with everyone else. + + Roland bit his lip, not meeting her eyes, then nodded. "I see." He turned abruptly and went back toward the tower, the snow crunching under his boots, his servants and knights trailing him. Renier shook his head and followed. + + Ravenna smiled ruefully. "A pretty speech I gave about symbolic value, don't you think? One might imagine I believed it." She eyed Thomas with mild annoyance. "I'm still angry with you. I didn't enjoy being coerced into this, but you've got your way, and I suppose that's the height of male ambition." + + "That's amusing coming from you," Thomas said without rancor. They had been through this all last night, when he had finally persuaded her to accept his plan for the retreat. + + "Perhaps." She watched him a moment, a flicker of something other than cool control in her eyes. "For all your faults, I trust you'll come out of this alive." She started across the court without waiting for a reply. + + Though he needed to be elsewhere now, Thomas found himself pausing to watch her. Occasionally he was surprised anew by the idea that someone so frail could also be so strong. + + "Captain." + + He looked up. Denzil stood only a few steps away, dressed in heavy brocades and a fur-trimmed cloak, snow collecting in his hair. Ravenna and Roland's presence in this section of the court had for the moment cleared it, and the servants loading wagons near the Guard House were making enough noise to cover their voices. Though, undoubtedly, eyes watched them from most of the surrounding windows. Thomas said, "Are you sure you don't want to save this performance until you have a better audience?" + + The Duke acknowledged that with a smile, but said, "At times your impatience with Roland is ill concealed. From your manner one would be tempted to think you despise your King." + + "I don't despise him, I pity him. He actually loves you." + + "Of course he does." Denzil's smile widened, and for the first time Thomas felt he was being allowed to see the man's real face, the truth behind the sham he put on for Roland, for the court. The petulance, the pretense of shallow vanity, were gone, replaced by intelligence and an amused contempt for those the mask had fooled. "And it was well done, wasn't it?" + + "It furthers your purpose." + + "Whatever that is." Denzil paced a few steps. "I can say anything I want to him, do anything I want to him, cause him to do whatever I want" -- he looked up, his blue eyes mocking -- "I can tell you about it with perfect impunity. And I have made him love me for it." + + Thomas looked away, seeing and not seeing the wounded being helped into a wagon near the door of the tower. He felt stupidly, irrationally angry for Roland's sake. Why? You'd think I'd know better than to give a damn about the feelings of a boy-king who spits on me. He was as block-headed as Renier, who actually believed in his oath of knighthood. But he said, "And what a conquest it was. A boy whose father taught him to take abuse. Undoubtedly he believes he deserves you." + + "Perhaps he does. Weakness is its own reward." + + Denzil was just as crippled as Roland, but in his own way, with his hate turned outward instead of festering within. But Denzil's intelligent enough to see it. Probably he does see it. And probably revels in it. Thomas said slowly, "You are a piece of work." + + "Yes, but it's my own work," Denzil answered easily, sounding pleased. "And I've gotten nearly everything I've ever wanted." + + And now you're getting a reaction from me, something else you've always wanted. Thomas put a little bored doubt in his voice and said, "Have you?" + + "Nearly everything. I wanted you, once, before I realized how much it would have harmed my cause with Roland." + + Still watching the wagons, and inwardly a little amused, Thomas said dryly, "How flattering." + + "My pride demanded it, because I could sense how you hated me." + + A flurry of wind tore through the court, scattering snow around their boots. + + Thomas searched for the words that would deal the deepest wound, and after a moment he said, "I know. I found your motives transparent." He looked back at Denzil, and was rewarded by the ill-concealed anger in those cold blue eyes. + + "Words," the Duke said softly. "Ravenna is growing old, Thomas. Take care that when she falls, you don't fall with her." + + "You take care. When I fall, I'm taking you with me," Thomas said, and walked away. + + * * * + + The Prince's Gate yard, the buffer area between the smaller inner gate and the towering bulk of the outer gate, was closed in by a wall and the south side of the Gate Bastion. Queen's guards and Albon knights manned the walls, last night's tensions forgotten among this morning's fears. + + Thomas's horse danced sideways in the churned mud and snow, glad to be out of the stables, and he reined her in. Fifty of the Queen's guards, with Vivan and most of the surviving Cisternans, sat their horses with him, waiting for the lookouts on the walls to give the clear signal. Snowflakes caught like crystal in their hat brims, hair, and the fur of their cloaks. Renier waved from the top of the wall, then the main gate swung open and they rode out. + + Many of the wealthy houses along the row had been caught by surprise. The doors and windows had been smashed through, revealing dark empty openings, snow blowing freely in. They would prove perfect daytime lurking places for the fay. A few houses across the way were still tightly shuttered and bore no outward sign of invasion, but nothing stirred as they rode out into the street. + + There were a few bodies half-buried in the snow. Their horses, battlefield trained to ignore such things, would have walked right over the first had Thomas not guided them around. The Unseelie Court could not appear while the sun was visible, even when it was dimmed by the gray snow clouds. They would not be faced with the power that had driven them out of the Old Palace unless the clouds grew considerably darker, blocking out most of the light. But the dark fay that followed the Host were not so handicapped. There would be things that flew, that traveled beneath the snow, that would leap down at them from the rooftops and the broken windows of the houses around them. So Kade Carrion had told them. + + Thomas wondered where Kade was, if she was watching or if she was back in Fayre. After Grandier's escape they had gone into the kitchens attached to the Guard House to talk. The servants had fired the ovens and it was almost warm. It was not deserted either; men and women were packing supplies for the journey. Along the side where the stores were kept, among barrels of apples, flour, and barley and shelves stacked with rounds of yellow and white cheeses covered with wax, they had stopped. Kade sat on an apple barrel, fixed her eyes on the rubies in his cloak pin, and said, "How do you know he's dead?" + + He had brought the copy of Grandier's confession, and handed it to her. + + She read it through twice, her eyes bleak. He said quietly, "He wanted us to be completely dependent on one sorcerer, and he chose Galen Dubell. He killed Dr. Surete and Milam after Surete had convinced Ravenna to let Dubell return. He told me how himself, after the golem attacked you in the Grand Gallery. He said it would have been simplicity itself to give either the Court Sorcerer or his assistant an enspelled object, especially if it seemed to come from a friend. So they died, like Dubell himself, his servants at Lodun, that clown in your acting troupe, a spy called Gambin, and Lord Lestrac, who knew too much of their plan and was prone to dangerous mistakes. Maybe there were others. We'll probably never know. + + "I thought Denzil was Grandier's agent in the palace. That he'd taken the keystone. But Denzil didn't know where it was kept--only Dr. Braun and Dubell knew that. The night Braun was killed he must have thought of something or found something that he believed important, and he was afraid to tell me with Denzil so nearby. He was on his way back to the King's Bastion. Dubell was coming along the same way toward the gallery. They met, and Braun must have decided to tell Dubell what he had meant to tell me. They went into that salon and... Braun idolized the man and had no reason to be suspicious. He would never have thought twice about turning his back on him. Neither would I, for that matter, and I don't do that lightly. Grandier played his part very well." + + Kade turned the paper over, and studied the blank back of it. + + Thomas said, "You told him you were going to get into the palace with an acting troupe, didn't you?" + + She nodded. "He said he never received the letter." + + "But he did. You were right when you said the golem was after you. All Grandier had to do was find out which troupe was likely to get the invitation to court and plant the golem among them. You were the one who knew Galen Dubell the best; you were the one most likely to expose an imposter. + + "I think it was Denzil who brought him here. Lestrac and Dontane were the contacts between them, so Denzil wouldn't know that Grandier had taken Dubell's place. That way Grandier could talk Roland out of leaving Bel Garde its walls, and we'd think of Dubell as his own man and no friend to Denzil. Denzil's antagonism would be real, and no one would suspect the link between them. It was the only way for him. Grandier was scarred and crippled by torture, and it would've been impossible to go unnoticed with his own appearance. He used this to move around undetected in Bisra and have his revenge on the priests in the Inquisition, to cause the plague and the crop failure." + + For the first time Kade met his eyes. "Why did he let the wards close again? He could have held them apart and let the Host down on us. He could have done that at any time." + + "I don't know. I don't know why the man does anything," Thomas confessed. He remembered the burning house in the River Quarter, and how the magical fire had considerately failed to spread to the other buildings on the crowded street. He had noted it at the time, the equal portions of viciousness and restraint, and he understood it no more now than he had then. "Why he would help Denzil of all people... I don't think it was malice against Galen Dubell. It was just that he was perfect for Grandier's purposes. He was trusted, well-known, but he'd been a recluse for ten years. He was living alone at Lodun, without family..." + + She interrupted, "He stopped taking students last year. He said he was working on a treatise on..." She stopped, and buried her face in her hands. + + He stepped close and pulled her hands away from her face. She wasn't crying. He might have expected grief and rage, but this wounded silence was pain itself. "I'm going to need your help." + + Kade seemed to realize he was holding her hands and pulled free. Standing up, she moved away a few steps. Not turning to look at him, she said, "I'm leaving. That's what I was going to tell Galen when I heard you call him Grandier." + + "Why?" + + She looked back at him. This time there were tears streaking her face, but her expression was that familiar one of exasperation. "There is nothing for me here, especially now." + + But he had still told her what the plan was, how he had intended for Dubell to cover the escape to Bel Garde, the closest defensible position that could be reached before nightfall. She had listened without comment. Before leaving he had said, "There's a difference between running away from your fears and walking away from your past. For your own sake, make sure you know which is which." + + And that was a damn pompous thing to say to her, he thought now. + + The first of the six wagons carrying the wounded who had survived the night left the shelter of the gate and trundled down the frozen mud of the street. They were guarded by about half the surviving Cisternans and a large party of servants and retainers--men, women, and children. Thomas would rather have kept the Cisternans together, but he knew they would obey his orders whereas there was no guarantee of that with Albon knights. Vivan and the other few remaining Cisternans would come with his group. + + It was a relief to be outside, to be moving. Inside the walls, it seemed everything was held together by threads which were beginning to unravel. + + Thomas looked back at his men grouped around the gate. Baserat was checking the set of his pistols in the holsters on the saddlebow. Thomas also had two long wheellock pistols in saddle holsters and was wearing a rapier with a wide cavalry blade. A dueling rapier was slung over his shoulder. + + One large armed party, mounted with only one wagon for supplies, left the gate and headed down the street in the opposite direction. It was the Count of Duncanny, who had chosen to lead away his family, retainers, and some of the other nobility who could not be counted on to keep up in a hard ride. They had some Albons with them, and Thomas could only guess what their chances might be. + + The count did not turn around as they rode away, but he lifted one hand to them in farewell. + + Thomas noted the similarity to a funeral procession. + + The men on the palace wall had vanished. He hoped the fay, and Grandier, didn't guess the significance of that for another few moments at least. + + The last wagon passed out of the shadow of the Prince's Gate and Thomas nodded a signal to one of the guards waiting there. + + Thomas spurred his horse and they were off. The crash of two coaches barreling through the gate signaled the eruption of the quiet street into pandemonium. + + Surrounding the coaches were Lucas and about twenty Queen's guards, the other Cisternans, and a few volunteer Albon knights. Behind them rode the rest of the Queen's Guard and the Albon troop. + + Grandier would anticipate their escape. He knew they would have to move now, before the snow choked the streets. Thomas hoped he hadn't anticipated any further. + + The promenades and tall houses of the palace quarter flashed by. Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw a horse stumble and go down. He couldn't tell who its rider was. + + The attack came. A large dark-winged creature struck the top of the first coach, leaping away immediately as its claws encountered the iron nails embedded in the roof. But the coach swayed under the weight and fell sideways, two of its wheels crushed beneath it. The driver tumbled free and the horses screamed, staggering and fighting their harness. The second coach shuddered to a halt beyond it as more fay leapt off rooftops and sprang up out of the mud and snow in the street. + + Thomas wheeled his horse, leading the escort group of Queen's guards and Cisternans to surround the two coaches. They fetched up against the dressed stone wall of a fortified town house. + + Thomas looked back toward the second company. If Renier didn't follow his instructions... No, the Albon troop and the rest of his men had split off with the wagons as the fay had attacked the coaches. They were heading up the Avenue of Flowers, riding pell-mell for the gate out of the city. But even as he saw them go, an illusion of a confused roiling mass of horsemen settled in their place. + + She's here, she's done it. A moment later he saw Kade leap off the back of the coach that Berham had driven and disappear into the illusion she had created. He had intended for Dubell to cover the retreat of the second troop with illusion, the plan he had fortunately not had time to reveal to the old sorcerer. Kade could do it with fayre glamour, which neither the fay nor Grandier would be immune to. Until this moment he had not thought she would. + + The coaches had been empty but for their drivers. Ravenna, Roland, and Falaise were on horseback in the midst of the Albon troop, the wagons carrying the supplies and the wounded, and the rest of the Queen's Guard. Ravenna had ridden under conditions almost as desperate during the war, it was one of the few things Roland did well on his own, and Gideon was under orders to keep Falaise on her mount if he had to tie her there. If Grandier was watching, Thomas knew his own presence with the coaches would add verisimilitude to the deception. + + Then the fay were on them and there was no more time for worry about the others. Thomas emptied both pistols at the flying creature that had struck the first coach as it stooped on them again, then used the heavy cavalry rapier to slash down at the fay that clustered about his horse. A gunpowder blast erupted somewhere nearby, with the shriek of wounded men and horses--the barrel of a too hastily loaded wheellock exploding. + + The horses were trained to kick in battle and their iron-shod hooves kept the fay back at first. Then Thomas saw Baserat go down and an instant later something struck the side of his own horse, knocking it sprawling. He managed to fall clear and the horse tore itself free, staggered up, and bolted. As Thomas struggled to get to his feet, a fay leapt on him from behind and slammed him to the ground. He twisted and shoved an elbow back into it, expecting a bronze blade in his vitals, then the hilt of the rapier that was still slung across his back touched the thing's head. He heard the creature's flesh sizzle and it yelped as it leapt away. + + Thomas stood and cleared a path through the creatures with his cavalry blade and put his back to the wall of the house. Blood was slicking his swordhilt--his own possibly, though he couldn't remember being wounded. He saw the second coach collapse and the misshapen dark fay swarming over it, and grimly anticipated their disappointment at its empty interior. He wished Kade had not come with them after all. He hoped she was controlling the illusion from a distance, or had gotten herself away by now. + + Above the screams and shouts of men, horses, and fay, he heard the crash of a door slamming open from further down the side of the house. He thought to work his way down there in case someone had found a way inside where they could retreat, but one of the humanlike servants of the Host came at him, swinging its sword wildly. He stepped forward and neatly speared its throat with the rapier's point, then something struck him in the leg just above his right knee. For a moment he felt only the slight pain of a bee sting. Then the ground was rushing up at him, then nothing. + + Chapter Eleven + + AS KADE TRIED to reach the partial shelter of the wall of the house, a clawed hand caught her hair and the back of her cloak, hauling her around. It was a bogle, a short squat ugly thing with muddy gray skin and harsh yellow eyes, and it was grinning at her. She pulled a handful of glamour out of the cold air and flung it into its eyes, giving it an all too temporary blindness, and it fled away shrieking. Damn things, she thought, dodging one of the coaches and its plunging horses. Why anyone allows them to exist is beyond me. If she ever got back to Fayre she would consider dedicating the rest of her life to removing its inhabitants from the face of the earth. + + Kade fetched up against the wall of the house, just as the carriage doors slammed open and men poured out. Private troops... No, there were sprigs of white and red tucked into some of their hatbands, the colors of city service. A trained band. + + She could feel the iron mixed into the mortar of the wall behind her as a distant heat. The proximity of so much iron made her wary, but she hadn't felt any real emotion she could identify since early this morning. She hadn't been able to leave. The idea of returning to Knockma and being alone with her thoughts was difficult enough to face, and the lump that had been in her throat for hours seemed to be keeping her from any decisive action. + + Men came to the aid of the small group formed into a defensive knot between the two wrecked coaches and the house, and the fay began to disperse. The bulk of the house was probably what had saved many of the Guards. The flighted fay large enough to carry off humans had not been able to reach them. A thick haze of white smoke from pistols and muskets hung over the street now, but Kade could see that the glamour that formed her illusion was beginning to dissipate. The reflective quality of ice and snow had produced glamour in abundance. A trick on Grandier, that his foul weather produced material for her illusions. + + Kade slipped inside the door with the others as the house troops withdrew. In the large stone-floored room within were half a dozen coaches, stabling for many horses, and the confusion of wounded and dying men. + + She made her way across the chamber. Nearly to the bottom of the stair into the main house, she saw a dead man on the floor in Cisternan colors. She recognized him as their commander, Vivan, who had helped her in the palace hall battle. She hesitated, but there was nothing to be done, and in another moment the crowd pushed her on. + + She couldn't see any of the Queen's guards, or Thomas, anywhere. With nothing else to do, she decided to look for them. + + She made her way up the stairs and into the maze of rooms on the second floor. From outside, faced with only the one uncompromising gray wall, she hadn't realized the house was so large. The beautifully appointed rooms were crowded with refugees from the surrounding neighborhood, mostly shopkeepers or members of the more wealthy classes whose homes hadn't withstood the attacks. They were making an awful noise, yelling, screaming, complaining, children crying, though as far as Kade could tell the house had never been penetrated by fay. Surely they were only stirred up by the battle outside. Surely they hadn't been like this since last night. + + She fought her way through crowded rooms until she saw a young servant bustling through, carrying an armload of rolled linen bandages. She caught his arm. "Whose house is this?" + + He didn't even look at her oddly. It probably wasn't the most witless question he had answered today. "Lord Aviler's house, the High Minister." + + Kade let him go. She remembered Aviler a little from the night of the Commedia, but mostly from the conversation between Thomas and Lucas she had eavesdropped on. His position in all this was obscure, at best. And why do I care? + + She found another stairway and went up. The third floor would hold audience chambers and more private entertaining rooms and salons. It was unguarded, since custom and fear of irritating their patrons kept any of the refugees from venturing up there. + + It was mercifully quiet. Then she heard voices raised in argument, and in a sudden silence one familiar voice. It can't be... She followed the sound to a carved double door that let her into a large state dining room with a long polished table and candelabra hung with colored glass drops. A group of battered Queen's guards and the lieutenant Gideon faced Denzil and a group of Albon knights while tall sallow Lord Aviler looked on. But seated nearby was Falaise. + + Kade stood still a moment, trying to disbelieve her eyes. The Queen was sitting in an armchair, her head down and her hands knotted in her lap. She looked like a prisoner. + + Kade started down the room toward them before they saw her. Denzil noticed her first, and Gideon stopped shouting to follow his gaze. She thought, If Denzil smiles at me there will be trouble. But the Duke's expression of angry contempt didn't change. + + Kade focused on Falaise. "What are you doing here?" + + The Queen looked up, her eyes locked on Kade's with desperate intensity. She was dressed for hard riding, in a man's breeches under a plain hunting habit, with a cloak wrapped around her. "We were attacked, and I was separated from my guards. Lord Denzil found me and brought me here." Falaise's voice held suppressed hysteria. + + "He abducted her and brought her here," Gideon corrected Falaise, watching Aviler. "She would be safely out the city gates by now if--" + + "If you had been competent to get her out the gates--" Denzil interrupted. + + "Sorceress," Aviler said. His voice, used to addressing the loud and argumentative city assemblies, overrode theirs. + + Kade looked at him. His expression was watchful and carefully wary. A part of her not concerned with death and the present had time to observe: I must look more than half mad. + + Aviler said, "Lord Denzil told me you had left the city." + + She said, "Ask him why he didn't take her after Roland and the others. Ask him why he didn't take advantage of the escape we bought for them." And when did it become "we," she asked herself. + + Aviler's gaze went from Kade to Denzil. "He has already explained himself." + + Gideon swore in exasperation. "You're in this with him, aren't you?" One of the other guards put a cautioning hand on his shoulder. + + Denzil said, "We were separated from the main troop, and the Queen had to be gotten to safety." His expression reflected angry concern, and Kade thought, He's acting. He's doing it very well, but he's acting. Does Aviler know that? She couldn't tell. Aviler seemed to be mainly worried over what she was going to do. I'm not the danger here, you idiot. + + To Falaise, she said, "Do you want to be here?" + + As the Queen started to answer, Denzil interrupted smoothly, "Of course she doesn't. She would rather be with her king." + + Aviler spared an unreadable glance for him, but kept his attention on Kade. He said, "The Queen must choose for herself whom she wishes to accompany. I offered to let her go with her guards, but--" + + "My lady, please," Gideon begged Falaise, going to his knees beside her chair. "For your honor and your safety, you know we'll protect you." + + Kade looked down at the Queen. "Or come with me." + + Falaise's frightened eyes went to Denzil. She was afraid to accept help from another woman, Kade realized. With that thought came a cold fury, but it was a fury wrapped in cotton wool, like the rest of her reality. Falaise turned back to her and shook her head helplessly. Kade walked out of the room. + + She went out into the maze of salons, seeing servants and a few battered soldiers, but no one she recognized. She could have asked for directions, she supposed, but she was not in the mood for questions. Then she saw Berham disappearing into one of the doorways carrying an armload of firewood. She hurried to catch up with him. + + It was the antechamber to a suite. Inside were Queen's guards she recognized and two men in Cisternan colors. Several were wounded, and all looked up at her in surprise. Berham stopped as he saw her. He said, "Oh, I'm glad to see you. We thought you'd gone off." + + "Where's Thomas?" The words were out before she quite realized it. It crossed her mind that this was the first time she had called him anything but "you bastard." + + Berham eyed her a moment, then he opened the next door and stepped back to let her go in. + + She stopped in the doorway. + + It was a bedchamber, cold and musty despite a new fire in the hearth. Thomas lay unconscious on the bed, still wearing the doublet and bloodstained buff coat from the battle. It took her moments to recognize him. She had never thought to see him so still, so white. A thin elderly man in a velvet doctor's cope sat next to him on the bed. Lucas was standing over him. He was hatless, and looked as if he had been caught too near a pistol blast; his face and the side of his doublet were flecked with powder burns. Martin was standing at the foot of the bed, leaning on the bedpost, and the sleeves of his white shirt were blood soaked. The young servant Phaistus was backed into a corner, trying to stay out of the way. + + Kade took a step into the room, Berham brushing past behind her. + + She asked, "What is it?" Her voice was unsteady and she hated herself for it. + + The doctor glanced back at her, but said nothing. + + Lucas said, "Answer her." + + The lieutenant's tone was even and reasonable but the doctor looked up at him and blanched. He said hastily, "I can't find a wound serious enough to cause this. It has to be elf-shot. There's nothing to be done." + + Sensation returned and hit Kade with the force of a hammer. She stumbled and steadied herself against the wall. "Get him out of here," she said. + + Martin consulted Lucas with a quick glance. He saw something in the other man's expression that constituted agreement, and caught the doctor by the thick collar of his cope and slung him toward the door. + + The doctor had a highly developed sense of self-preservation. He scrambled to his feet and darted out without a threat or protest. + + Kade went to sit on the bed. She touched Thomas's face. His skin was hot but his sweat was freezing. Distractedly she noticed that the striped wool of the bedclothes was faded, but the plumes topping the canopy were still pure white and the headboard had a design of twining laurel leaves. It spoke well for Aviler. She knew Denzil would have been too petty to provide his enemy a decent place in which to die. + + She found the elf-shot by finding the hole it had burnt through his trouser leg. Elf-shot never appeared to leave a mark, and the tiny fragment was lodged just under the skin of his lower thigh. It must have glanced off the heavy leather of his boot top and entered his flesh at an angle. It was why he was still alive. The stone had not had time to work its way further into his body on its eventual track toward his heart. + + She said, "I need a silver knife. It doesn't have to be pure, but it should have as little base metal as possible." + + Martin said, "That's an alchemy tool. Where would--" + + "Or a piece of family plate," Lucas interrupted. "Berham." + + "No sooner said." Berham dropped the wood and hurried for the door. He was limping, Kade noticed. It's not too bad; he's walking. Worry about him later. + + "Have you done this before?" Lucas asked her. + + He didn't ask her if she thought she could do it, and she was so grateful she answered honestly. "No, but I've seen it done." Or at least attempted. Other doctors or sorcerer-healers had tried to cut out a fragment of elf-shot on the rare occasions when it was close enough to the surface of the skin to find, but most made the mistake of using iron rather than silver. And elf-shot didn't lose its power once it was embedded in a human body; if a sorcerer did manage to remove it he was just as likely to have it seek his own heart instead. The fay who cast the shot sometimes removed it for reasons of their own, but those instances were few and far between. + + Victims of elf-shot were usually killed to keep them from suffering further, if they didn't die immediately. It was a perfect opportunity for Denzil, or High Minister Aviler. And Thomas Boniface was a disliked favorite whose patron and troop were out of the city by now, if they lived. The doctor might talk. Maybe we should have killed him. It was too late for that now. And why do I care? + + Because from the moment you set foot in the palace, he did not treat you as a child, a fool, or worse, a court lady. He treated you as exactly what you are, whatever that is, and he knew what Galen's death did to you. + + She paced the room with rabid impatience until Berham returned. He shut the door hastily behind him and brought a small delicate paring knife out of his doublet. "Will this do?" + + Kade took it from him and felt the nearly pure silver resonate through her. "Perfect," she said. "Now all of you get the hell out of the way." + + If she had spared enough notice, she would have been surprised to see that they did just that. + + She passed the knife through a candle quickly, and that would have to do. It was a little too dull but Thomas would be in no position to notice. + + She sat down on the bed and gently probed for the fragment. It wasn't there anymore. It had worked its way deeper already. She cursed, fighting a foolish surge of panic, and thought, Why can't anything ever be easy? She knew where it had to be. It hadn't had time to move more than an inch or so down into the muscle. She saw her hand was trembling, and she was glad Thomas was deeply unconscious because he would otherwise have surely said something infuriating at this point. Now, she thought, and carefully inserted the knife. + + A little blood welled up, and after a long heartbeat she felt the knife vibrate as the elf-shot adhered to it. My God, it worked. Gently she withdrew the blade. As soon as the tiny fragment was free she closed her fist around it to keep it from flying at someone, stood, and started toward the fireplace. Then she felt it pushing at the skin of her palm. + + She froze, staring at her closed hands. If she let it go, God knew who it would head for. But I'm fay, she thought against the rising dread. It can't hurt me. + + There's no such thing as half human, Galen Dubell had told her once long ago, and she had typically ignored his words. One drop of red blood is enough. She whispered a fay charm of warding danger, and felt the elf-shot press at her hand, pushing through the skin. Fighting panic, she hoped the planet of influence was close enough and shouted the Lodun formula for the destruction of dangerous objects. + + The sorcery worked where the fay magic had not. She felt the fragment catch fire and hastily scraped it off her hands onto the hearthstone. It burned bright blue for an instant, then disappeared. + + She sank down and sat on the floor. All those years that elf-shot could have put her out of their misery and the Unseelie Court had never thought to make the experiment, to test to see if she had the same immunity to it as the other fay did. + + Idiots, she thought. Her palm hurt like hell. + + She turned back to the bed and saw Thomas move his head on the pillow. Feverishly, but he had moved. + + She had forgotten anyone else was still in the room, and was startled to find Lucas standing next to her. He took her hand and turned it over. "God damn," he muttered when he saw the burn. "Hey, Ber--" + + Berham appeared with a handful of snow scraped from a window ledge. He slapped it into her palm. + + She snatched her hand away, then realized the cold had cut the intensity of the pain nearly in half. She watched Thomas while Berham fussily bandaged the burn, and was rewarded by seeing him move twice more. + + * * * + + Much later Kade sat on a stool by the fire and looked at the deep red mark on her hand. It didn't seem inclined to blister, so she supposed it couldn't be too bad. Unlike pure fay magic, the craft of mortal sorcery was a messy business and she was used to hurting herself occasionally. Messy, but more certain, she thought. + + She had helped the other wounded as best she could, but without the philtres and salves that were so necessary to healing-sorcery, or the ingredients with which to mix them, there wasn't much she could do. She could have made a healing stone, but that only worked for disease, not torn flesh. A well-stocked apothecary box would have saved lives tonight. The charms to give strength and to hold the soul to the body had little efficacy without the herbal preparations that soothed the wounds. The effort had left her cold and dreadfully tired, and she would have traded all her fay ancestry for half of Galen Dubell's skill at healing-sorcery. And she knew that if she had devoted all her attention to study, she would have had that skill by now. + + Kade was worried about the wound in Thomas's leg. The spell she had used to knit the flesh together had seemed to work, but the wound was deep and there was no telling how the elf-shot had affected it. By the firelight, his hair and beard were inky black against his fever-pale skin. She resisted the + + urge to get up and walk over to the bed again. You thought the world ended when you found out Galen was dead, but when you heard that fool of a doctor say elf-shot... + + She took a deep breath and faced herself. It was idiocy to deny it. How could she not know? But looking back, she couldn't see when it had happened. She was not sure how her childhood passion figured into it, or when her carefully preserved distant appreciation of him had been intensified by intimacy. She was even less certain when the thought I want this man for a friend had become I want this man. + + Simply because she had never felt it before didn't mean she couldn't recognize it, even though it wasn't very much like the poets and books had described it. Some had implied that the depth of the emotion would hurt; they had not said it would be like the blunt end of a poleax in the pit of the stomach. + + She had wondered if being fay would make her unable to love; it had certainly made her unable to feel even the slightest fondness for any of her relations. She had thought she loved Roland once, but then had decided that if she really had, she would not have been able to leave him. She had thought herself as cold as her mother Moire and the rest of the fay, who put on a great show of grand passion but who, underneath their shallow surfaces, had hearts as empty as broken wine barrels. To find that she was capable of love, that it was happening now and under less than ideal circumstances, was more than a shock. It was horrific. And worse, like every other bubbleheaded court lady, she had fallen in love with the Captain of the Queen's Guard. When she was a child at court, someone had proclaimed undying passion for him every other week. Trying to guess who he was going to show interest in and who he was going to brush off had been a game with Ravenna's gentlewomen. Kade felt herself a fool, and she had seen too much bloodshed and horror in the last few days to seek the comfort of childishly wishing herself dead. + + She would have to think about what to do at some point. Not right now, she told herself. Just not right now. + + * * * + + Thomas turned his head toward the light. It resolved into a glowing orange fire in an unfamiliar hearth. The room was dark, except for one candle that he could see as a dim glow through the curtain at the foot of the bed. He felt the sweat-drenched heat of a receding fever, and everything ached. Except the wound in his thigh that felt like a hot coal had been buried beneath the skin. + + He sat up on one elbow and parted the bloody and burned (Burned? he wondered) fabric to examine what looked like an especially clean sword thrust. It was closed over with a new pink scab, a sign of sorcerous healing. + + Then he saw Kade sitting on a footstool by the fire, where she had blended into the light and its reflection on the polished stone hearth, a creature of amber, rose,and old gold. One could never tire of looking at her, he decided. There was always something new to see, an effect made even more interesting because she produced it unintentionally and entirely without artifice. They stared at one another for a time, until Kade blinked and shook herself. + + "Where are we?" he asked her. + + "Lord Aviler's town house. You've been near dead most of the day, because you were hit by elf-shot." + + It took a moment for the words to sink in. He said, "I couldn't have been." + + "Very well, argue about it as if you weren't unconscious when it happened." + + Thomas looked at the wound again. "Did you cut it out?" + + "Yes." + + "It couldn't have been easy." It was supposed to be impossible. + + "I have had a hard day," she admitted with dignity, lifting a handful of sweat-soaked hair away from her forehead. + + He saw the bandage wrapped around her hand and asked, "What happened there?" + + "Nothing." After a moment of hesitation, she said, "Denzil's here, with Falaise." + + Thomas closed his eyes. "No." + + "Yes. He got her away from Gideon and the others when they were attacked. They followed him here, but she's too terrified of Denzil to take their help and Aviler stands about like a great idiot saying the Queen must decide who escorts her." + + Thomas fell back on the bed and contemplated the underside of the tester for a moment. "You realize that a short while ago I was as good as dead and this was all someone else's problem." + + "You're welcome. I think I know why Denzil's here." + + He sat up again, taking a deep breath to steady himself as dizziness threatened. "I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me." + + "Aviler. If he's in this plot with Denzil and Grandier, that's one thing, but if he's not...he isn't just going to stand there and watch." + + The High Minister. A man who would support Roland despite personal differences, knowing he could increase the political power of the Ministry and it would never occur to the young King to stop him. A man with no patience for royal favorites. A man with nothing but suspicion for royal favorites. "You're right." With the help of the bedpost, Thomas hauled himself up and stood carefully, wincing at the tight pain of the wound. Limping around on it wasn't going to do it any good but he hardly had a choice. + + Kade was fiddling with her hair again. She said, "Falaise knows something." + + Thomas looked down at her. She was obviously reluctant. "Why do you think so?" + + "She's afraid of Denzil." + + "She should be." He limped to the foot of the bed and found his dueling rapier and main gauche. He drew the sword to check the blade and saw it was nicked and dented but still unbent. + + "I know that," Kade said with asperity. "But she doesn't know that, not unless she knows more than she should." + + Thomas hesitated, thinking it through. "How much do you think she knows?" + + "She won't tell me. She doesn't think I can protect her. But I think she'll tell you." + + "She may have tried to already, and I thought she was after something else. I should have listened to her but the woman never gave any sign she could think before." If they somehow escaped the current situation, that might save Falaise's neck. He could say she had confided to him early suspicions of Denzil but had been unable to give him anything definite. That would keep Roland or some ambitious courtier from charging her with treason along with Denzil. If they got out of this. Damned optimist. Then he realized the full implication of what Kade had said and looked down at her in surprise. "Doesn't think you could protect her? That's ridiculous. You're not a supporter of Ravenna, Roland, or Denzil; you're the only one who could protect her with impunity." + + Kade considered that. "Maybe she just can't trust anyone anymore." + + Slipping his baldric over his head, Thomas thought, That's an idea we could all have sympathy with. + + The door opened and Lucas entered, then stopped abruptly as he saw Thomas. "You're alive," he said, smiling. "And I thought I was about to be promoted." + + "Careful, I might take you up on that." Thomas gritted his teeth as he put his weight on his bad leg. + + "Oh, I'd have to decline under these circumstances." + + "Typical of you. How many are we?" + + "Eighteen. Not as bad as I thought it would be for a moment there, but bad. Commander Vivan's dead, and Baserat..." + + As he listed the familiar names Thomas shook his head. He would have to deal with it later. Worse that he didn't know if their sacrifice had accomplished anything, if Ravenna and Roland had been able to get out of the city. Lucas finished with, "...and hard as it is to believe, Denzil's here with..." + + "I know. I'm about to go and give him the good news about my premature survival. Do you know where Falaise is?" + + "Yes, Martin found where they're keeping her. Gideon and some of the others are hanging about outside her rooms, making sure no one makes off with her." + + The Queen was ensconced in a suite in the opposite wing. Bloody and ragged, Thomas and Kade drew considerable attention passing through the house. Thomas limped, and resisted the urge to steady himself on the walls. They finally arrived at a suite guarded by five weary battered men with the badges of city service, who were in turn being watched by Gideon and six other Queen's Guards. + + Gideon was pacing, and when Thomas and the others entered the anteroom where the guards were gathered, he looked like he was in agony. Stiffly he began, "Sir, I--" + + Thomas said, "Shut up," and walked past him into the next room. + + The city guards watched with great interest and made no attempt to stop him, but inside were several of Denzil's contingent of Albon Knights, given to him by Roland and sworn to his personal service. Thomas said, "Gentlemen, really." + + The knights were well aware that denying a Queen's Guard lieutenant the right to see the Queen was irregular enough, but denying it to the Queen's Guard Captain was practically equivalent to abduction. One of the older knights looked uneasy. "We have our orders--" he began. + + Falaise threw open the door and stood there, her eyes wide. She was still dressed for riding and her hair was coming down. She said, "Captain, thank God you're all right." + + "I think your orders have just been countermanded." Thomas smiled. + + Falaise tapped the knight who was blocking the door on the shoulder, saying in an irritated tone, "Get out of the way." + + Thomas thought that if Kade were ever foolish enough to get herself into a similar situation, she would have probably punched the man in the kidney. The knights reluctantly moved aside. + + Then from the anteroom Denzil pushed his way in through the city guards, Lord Aviler behind him. The High Minister looked mildly surprised to see them. Denzil stopped when he saw Thomas, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. + + Yes, Thomas thought, how awful that it all doesn't go your way. He said, "I was looking for the Queen. It seems the King has temporarily misplaced her." He wondered if Denzil would challenge him now. + + The air in the room was brittle enough to break. + + "She is under my protection," Denzil said. + + "Yes, I've heard all about that, but it isn't necessary anymore." + + "I have men here--" + + "You have twenty armed men sworn to your service, my lord," Aviler interrupted. "And you, Captain, have about an equal number of Guardsmen in any condition to fight. I have a hundred city troops in service to the Ministry, and I suggest we leave them all to their duty of keeping this house secure." + + "A very diplomatic suggestion." Thomas inclined his head. + + Abruptly Falaise said, "I...thank you for your help, Lord Denzil, but I do not...require it any longer." + + Denzil stared down at her a long moment. "As you wish, Madame." He turned away and left the anteroom. Aviler bowed sardonically and followed him. + + Thomas followed Falaise into the room and closed the door behind him. It was a perfect setting for her, with light sarsenet hangings and mirror-glass set in the paneling. There was no maid in evidence. He wondered briefly if Falaise had sent her female attendants away, or if she had even been offered any. Was Denzil on his way here just now because he heard I was, or because he knew Falaise was alone? And was that why Aviler was trailing after him? He leaned on the back of a tapestry-covered armchair to take the weight off his leg and said, "My lady, I think there are some things we need to discuss." + + "Yes." Falaise sat down on the daybed and looked up at him anxiously. "About Denzil." + + Kade had vanished somewhere along the way, though Thomas suspected she was nearby and within earshot. He wasn't worried about that. She already suspected most of what Falaise was about to tell him. "How much do you know about the Duke of Alsene's plans?" + + "Nothing, not really. He..." Falaise looked away nervously. "Denzil suggested that if my husband were to have to leave the throne, I might consider marrying him." + + Landlaw again. The oldest traditions held that by being the King's wife, Falaise took on part of the mystique of the crown, if not its authority. If Roland died without leaving children, and one of the possible heirs married Falaise, it would go far to strengthen his claim in the minds of a great many people. There were a considerable number of families with enough royal blood to pursue the throne, and many technically closer to it than Denzil's. But none of them had tried to suborn Falaise... It implies he's fairly sure she's soon to become a widow. "That's treason." + + Her expression was earnest. "I know." + + Thomas closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What did you tell him?" + + "I didn't answer him." She made a helpless gesture. "I tried to put him off. I was afraid if I said no he would tell Roland lies about me, but if I said yes, even if I didn't mean it, he might go through with what he planned. I didn't know who to go to." + + Yes, you did. You Just couldn't get me to listen to you. Thomas noticed she had refrained from pointing that error out to him, but it would have been against Falaise's lifelong training to tell a man he had made a mistake. No, she would try to delicately manage him, which would make it all the more difficult to get the truth out of her. Yet that tactic had worked well with Denzil. She must have made a good job of stringing him along, if she had kept it up for several days without the young Duke losing his patience. Thomas could easily imagine Falaise swooning, gracefully weeping, and doing everything a woman about to give in did except actually give in. He looked up. "And he didn't give you any hint of how he was going to accomplish this?" + + "No. If he had, would that make things any better?" + + "Probably not." + + Falaise was knotting the ribbons on the sleeve of her coat. "It is very bad, isn't it?" + + "Yes. If we ever get the evidence against him to bring a formal charge of treason, then he can take you to the gallows with him. You could bring the charge yourself, but I doubt Roland would take your word over Denzil's. There are plenty of others who know Denzil and probably would take your word before his, but their opinions won't count." Thomas shook his head wearily. "We'll just have to make sure it won't come to that." + + "How?" + + It was just one more reason for Denzil to die a hero's death at the earliest opportunity. It might not stop Grandier now, but it would clear up a number of miscellaneous side issues and relieve the feelings of several people, among them Kade, Ravenna, Falaise, and himself. But it didn't make it any easier. They were not under Roland's nervous eye anymore, but with the knights and High Minister Aviler as biased witnesses, it was still a difficult problem. "The less you know now, the better," he told her. + + "Wait." She hesitated. "I wanted to tell you that my patronage is yours, whatever happens. I know that Roland is against you, but if the Duke of Alsene is gone he would be so much easier to deal with and if things get back to the way they were... When Ravenna isn't here anymore, when I'm patron of the Queen's Guard, I want you to stay as Captain." Her eyes lifted to meet his for the first time. "My patronage, and my very sincere...regard." + + Oh, fine, Thomas thought in annoyance. In the language of the court, her meaning was clear. Regard equaled favor, and favor meant access to her bed in return for his support. He looked at her a long moment, keeping his expression neutral. "I'll remember that, my lady." + + * * * + + Listening in the anteroom, Kade knocked her head ungently against the wall and thought, And that is the tale of my life. She slipped out, unnoticed. + + * * * + + When Thomas went out into the anteroom, Lucas was telling Gideon, "--and when he heard about it he went absolutely mad and you're lucky if you're not--" + + They both looked up when he shut the door. Thomas said to Gideon, "When this is over we're going to have a talk, but until then we won't refer to it. Now stay here and make sure no one walks off with her." + + The young lieutenant winced. "Yes, Sir." + + Thomas went out, Martin and Lucas following him. A servant wearing a steward's chain approached them, somewhat warily. "Lord Aviler would like to see you, Captain." + + Lucas raised an eyebrow and casually adjusted one of the pistols in his sash, but Thomas shook his head. He followed the man through a small gallery hung with family portraits and to a door at the far end, the others trailing along. As Aviler's man knocked on the door, Lucas dropped into one of the armchairs and Martin leaned on the wall. The servant eyed them nervously, but didn't voice any objections. + + Inside was a study warmed by a fire in a pink marble hearth and lit by gray late-afternoon light from two windows in the far wall. The floor was covered with bright eastern carpets probably brought back from the trading voyages Aviler the Elder had made his fortune on. Through chance or careful planning, they managed not to clash with the striped red silk covering the walls. The High Minister was standing with his back to the fire as Thomas stepped in. He motioned for the steward to withdraw, then said, "Lord Denzil's preparing to leave. I thought you might be interested." + + Thomas limped to one of the windows. The snow had stopped and the view gave onto the street below where they had fought that morning. The wrecked coaches were still there, though the city troop must have brought in the bodies. The carriage doors below were just opening. Night would fall in an hour or so; it was a nearly suicidal time to be venturing out. + + Aviler said, "For a house under siege, there's a great number of people coming and going. I know what you're planning." + + Thomas watched Denzil emerge on horseback with his men grouped behind him. They began to pick their way down the snow-choked street before he turned back to the High Minister. "Do you?" + + "You're going to take the good Duke of Alsene down. If I hadn't been there, your lieutenant would have killed him in my dining room." Aviler crossed to a long draw table piled with books and papers and sat on one corner, watching him. "I don't mind what you do to each other, and he did put the Queen in unpardonable danger by keeping her from leaving the city." He leaned forward. "But don't do it here." + + Thomas watched him thoughtfully. "I don't have that choice anymore, it seems. And he's done more than put the Queen in danger." + + "I can hardly believe anything you tell me at this point." + + Thomas started for the door. "Then I won't tell you. But if you think he's going to join Roland, you're laughably wrong. Send someone to follow him and you'll find he's taking the street back to the palace. Then ask yourself why." + + He went out. Lucas looked up as he shut the door behind him and said, "Well?" + + Thomas told him, "We're getting the Queen out of here tomorrow, whatever it takes." + + * * * + + The court had ridden into Bel Garde in the late afternoon, and now in the gateyard Ravenna sat her horse amid the turmoil of servants, courtiers, Albons, Cisternans, and her own men, watching as Renier ordered guard placements. The late Dr. Braun's apprentices already stood before the closed outer gates, working with books, incense burners, and other odd tools to temporarily ward those fragile barriers of metal and wood against the fay. They had been attacked again passing through the city gates, and several parties had been scattered or killed, but the fay had not followed them out. Satisfied with the arrangements being made here, Ravenna let her guards urge her further into the fortress. + + Once through the inner gate and the portcullis, Bel Garde's celebrated interior court with its fountains and miniature gardens was visible, though smothered now under a heavy blanket of snow. The stonework on the newer bastion looming over them was as ornate as gilded filigree, with curves, curls, and the faces of classical luck sprites worked into the carving. A gem of a fortress, someone had called this place. Yes, Ravenna thought, but because a sword is jeweled does not mean the blade is no longer deadly. "Find Lieutenant Gideon and tell him to bring Falaise to me at once," she told the nearest guard. + + As he rode off she looked down to see Elaine trotting beside her horse and tugging urgently on her riding skirt. "My lady, if you don't come out of this wind you'll get your sickness again." + + Ravenna leaned down to remonstrate with her and found herself coughing helplessly into her sleeve. + + Acknowledging physical weakness was not something she did gracefully. Once she could speak again, she cursed Elaine, the guards who came to help her down, and, rather unjustly, her horse, who stood rock steady with well-trained patience throughout the whole episode. + + They led her through a wide door into a large, beautifully appointed entry hall. It was too cold to remove her cloak, but Ravenna had to admit the relief from the wind was welcome. She gestured Elaine away impatiently and paced, knotting her fingers together, noting the servants who worked to build up the fire were her own and not those of the fortress. "I want this place searched top to bottom." + + "Yes, my lady." + + The guard she had sent after Falaise came through the door, letting in a blast of cold air. His eyes were worried and Ravenna tensed. "My lady," he said, "Lieutenant Gideon and the other men who rode escort to the Queen aren't anywhere to be found." + + Ravenna stopped, staring at the carved paneling in front of her. "And Falaise?" + + "Not with the Albons or His Majesty's party." + + Ravenna nodded to herself. "Denzil." + + * * * + + Later, Thomas sat in front of the fireplace in the parlor of the suite they had commandeered for a headquarters. Gideon and most of the others were guarding Falaise, and Lucas had led an expeditionary force consisting of himself, Martin, and the two Cisternans down into the kitchens after food. Berham and Phaistus were sitting at a table across the room making bullets, the older man holding the leather-wrapped bullet mold and the younger carefully pouring hot lead from the small crucible. + + The most badly wounded guard had died a short while ago. With men Thomas had led and fought beside for years dying and in constant danger, it was foolish to grieve over the death of someone he had in actuality never really known, but he found his thoughts turning to Galen Dubell. + + He had never been so completely taken in by anyone, Thomas decided, and that was what disturbed him the most. He had first come to court younger than Roland was now, and had made his way through all the traps and pitfalls alone. Never allowing himself to trust anyone, he had escaped machinations that had ruined others and had learned how to deceive with the best of them. Perhaps he had believed Grandier because the old sorcerer had never asked for anything. + + Thomas wondered how Dubell had felt when he had realized the trusted friend or servant that Grandier must have pretended to be had been watching, learning, gathering information for an impersonation that would kill its victim. If the old man had even been allowed to realize that, if he hadn't died in complete ignorance of what was happening to him. + + Kade wandered into the room with the air of someone waiting for a public coach and settled into the other chair, and he was glad of the distraction. Thomas had not asked her why she hadn't left the city. They had all assumed she had the means to do so, though they had never had any proof of it. + + It had occurred to him that he was taking her for granted, like taking gunpowder for granted when one carried pistols much of the time. + + And now she was staring at him. He said, "Yes?" + + She said, "What do you think Roland will do when he finds out about Denzil and Falaise?" + + He had the feeling this wasn't really what was on her mind, but he wasn't willing to pursue that suspicion. He said, "I don't know." At the moment he was too tired to care about a possible outburst from Roland, though he supposed later he would have to manage it. Interesting to think how it was possible to grow out of the need for power, and to desire freedom from the constant wrangling of those who still wanted it. "Roland, Denzil, and Falaise make an interesting triangle. It's a pity I can't confuse the issue any further by pursuing Falaise." The young Queen was beautiful, but so were most of the other women at court. She was also the kind of woman for whom men would continually ruin themselves, and he was past that stage. Did Denzil want Falaise, or was that the only way he knew to approach her? Falaise had evidently not wanted him. Thomas doubted she wanted anybody. Her offer to him had held no warmth. She offered her body because she thought it was part of the process of sealing an agreement. + + Was I like that? Thomas wondered. Was that what I thought when Ravenna first approached me, all those years ago? + + Kade interrupted his thoughts. "Why not?" + + He had time to notice that he had spoken to her in the offhand way he might speak to a friend, without any regard for propriety or anything else. He also suspected he had just opened the way for her to ruthlessly question him about whatever subject occurred to her, but it was too late to stop at this point. "If I were going to raise a child, I'd have started before now." + + Kade greeted this with another long moment of enigmatic silence, then she said, "Oh." She looked into the fire for a little while, then chuckled to herself. + + He glanced at her suspiciously. "What?" + + "Nothing." Another pause, then she asked, "How did Denzil get such a hold on Roland? That he can threaten the Queen, of all people, with her too afraid to ask for help?" + + Thomas watched the fire for a moment, remembering. "Right before your father died, Roland tried to kill himself by cutting his wrists, but he bungled it. Denzil found him, bandaged him up, concocted a story to explain it. He also kept him from attempting it again." + + Kade bit her lip, thinking, then shook her head. "But that almost seems like Denzil must care for him, and I may be odd, but I can't imagine that." + + "You can care for someone and hate them at the same time. And Denzil was nothing without Roland's support then. He needed a live prince to attach himself to." He glanced over at her. "Don't look like that. Roland didn't have to fall into Denzil's clutches. Look at you. You haven't got a Denzil hanging about somewhere in Fayre, have you?" + + "Of course not." She shuddered theatrically. "And I was not looking guilty, I was looking thoughtful." + + Thomas hadn't said the word "guilty," but he didn't intend to point that out. If she could fall into such an obvious trap then she must be considerably distracted. + + A log rolled to the edge of the hearth, and he stood, somewhat awkwardly, supporting himself on the arm of the chair, to push it back in with the poker. + + Kade winced. "I'm sorry about that." + + He dropped back into the chair. "About saving my life? There's a cheery sentiment." + + She refused to be diverted. "What if it never heals?" + + She was just as well aware as he was about what it would do to his speed in a fight. "Well, I'm getting old for a duelist. It probably won't make any difference in the long run." + + "Don't say that; I have enough to worry about." Kade slumped further down in her chair. "How are we going to get rid of Denzil?" + + Thomas wondered how she could sit like that without breaking her back. He answered, "I'm going to kill him, if I ever get the chance. But I'd like to do it without dooming Falaise, myself, or anyone else." + + "I could do it. Roland hates me anyway, and he can't come after me where I live." + + He snorted. "I'm hardly likely to ask you to do a thing like that." + + "It's nothing I haven't done before." + + The somewhat airy way she said this caused him to doubt that she was as indifferent as she pretended, but he answered, "I don't care if you go about murdering people every afternoon. You'd make me look a fool or a worse scoundrel than Denzil, and I'd think of some horrific way to retaliate." + + She shrugged and rubbed the arm of the chair distractedly. "It shouldn't matter, even if I am related to him. I wished my father dead." + + Thomas frowned. "What makes you say that?" + + Her eyes on the fire, Kade said slowly, "I wished it, very hard, with everything I had, which I was beginning to realize might be quite a bit. And he died." + + "He didn't just fall over dead." + + "Yes, he did." She looked stubborn. + + "No, he did not. Were you there?" + + "No, of course not, but I know what happened because I caused it." + + "I don't know why I bother to listen to you argue in circles." + + Kade made an exasperated gesture. "Because you can't come up with anything better than 'No, he did not.' How do you know? My magic was wild then, I didn't know what I was doing, I could have caused any amount of harm." + + He was silent for a long moment. He said finally, "Does it matter, as long as he's dead?" + + "No, I suppose not." She sank further in her chair and stared at the fire. + + Thomas glanced back at the two servants. Berham was deep into a story of one of the last battles of the Bisran War, and Phaistus was so engrossed in it he was getting hot lead all over the table. He turned back to the fire. "Fulstan was poisoned." + + Her expression went blank. It was hard to tell if she was astonished or not. He said, "Ravenna did it. I got the poison for her. It was foxglove, as I recall." + + Kade stood up and walked around the room in a circle. After a few moments she wandered back to the fire and sat down again as if she had just arrived. + + Thomas added, "Believe it or not, Ravenna never quite realized what Fulstan was doing to you or to Roland. She's very single-minded. He knew he should be wary of her, but she couldn't touch him under court- or landlaw, and I suppose he thought his position was safe. After your little outburst in the cathedral, she began to wonder why you'd become such a terror. I discovered some of the details for her so she sent you out of the city to the convent. You'd been gone a week when Roland botched his attempt to bleed to death, and when she heard about that she made the decision." He shrugged. It all seemed a very long time ago. "There wasn't any dancing in the streets, but most of the mourning was insincere." + + She was silent for a long time, and Thomas listened to the fire crackle and Bertram's voice in the background. Finally Kade said quietly, "I never thought anybody wanted to kill him but me. Even Roland thought it was something he did, like not riding well enough or playing games badly." + + Thomas leaned forward and added another log to the fire. "Well, it was time you knew." + + * * * + + It was much later and most of the house was asleep when Kade made her way up to the highest attic and eased up the sash of a window there, mindful of the nails in it. It was cold, bitterly cold, with a patina of frost glittering over every surface and clouds hiding the stars. It was very dark and the moon was in its waning; in the Old Faith, it was the dark time, the death of white magic. The reigning time of the Host. The gray-black rooftops spread around her like an angular un-moving sea. She could just see the palace from here as an odd collection of shapes, some recognizable as towers, another as the dome of the Summer Residence. The faint glow of witch-light flickered over the walls. + + She climbed out onto the slate-shingled roof of the gable just below and sat in front of the window, to keep anything from trying to enter the house behind her back. She shivered and hugged her knees, though she had augmented her clothing with a man's shirt Berham had found for her and Thomas's battered buff coat. + + I did not kill my father. Her emotions were as tangled as a jumbled collection of beaded necklaces. She wished she could untangle the strands and run them through her fingers one by one. Disappointment, that she could understand. It was not an odd emotion for someone who had believed a lie was the truth, particularly as it was a lie she had told herself. Confusion, anger, remembered fear, all these were explicable, if hopelessly intertwined. It was the strange sensation of release, the sense of freedom that she couldn't understand, that made her face hot and her hands numb with the strength of it. As if something tightly coiled inside her chest had relaxed a trifle. It seemed to make other things possible as well. It seemed to imply that it might be possible to forget, eventually. Time to stop dreaming like a child, she told herself with an irritated toss of her head. Time to think and plan. + + She closed her eyes and whispered, "Boliver, come here now; I need to talk to you." A gust of wind carried the words away. + + Nothing happened. I hate it when he makes me do this. "As Queen of Air and Darkness, and on my sovereignty of Knockma, I call Boliver Fay." + + For a long breathless moment there was no answer, then out of the cloud-covered sky a star fell. It plunged toward her and landed lightly at her feet, then resolved with a flash of light into Boliver, who said, "It's not bloody easy getting here, you know." He was about Kade's height, wizened and red bearded, and his vivid blue eyes were worried. He wore a high peaked hat and a somewhat tattered velvet doublet. + + "No, I don't know. That's why I called you. How is Knockma?" + + "Not so good. There are members of the Host drawn up on the border to Fayre, though not a sign of them on the mortal side, so far. They didn't like you much to begin with, and now with you taking the human part in this war--" + + "Is everyone all right?" Kade had worried about her household. Some of them were human, and none terribly good at defending themselves. + + Boliver was offended. "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to them. But why are you doin' this? Have you gone witless? You didn't make up with your brother by chance?" + + "No, of course not." Kade doubted she ever would. Roland wouldn't welcome such an overture, and she wasn't certain she wanted to make it anymore. There was too much history between them, and they might only remind one another of things better forgotten. The news that he had tried to take his own life had been an unpleasant surprise, and her thoughts shied away from it. She looked out over the dark dead city again. "I've got a reason for it." + + "'A reason,' she says. Oh, joy." Boliver rolled his eyes. + + She rubbed her forehead. "I'll hold Knockma for us, don't worry." + + "I'm not worried." He let his knees knock and his teeth chatter convincingly. "I'm petrified. I've no wish to vanish down Evadne's gullet. Or watch me bosom companions do likewise." + + "Neither do I." She shifted impatiently. "I need your help." + + He snorted. "As if I had a choice." + + "Well you don't, so be quiet and listen. I need you to fly over the palace and tell me what you can see." + + "Fly over the palace? What have I done to deserve it? With all those boglie-woglies everywhere?" + + "Yes. I'd do it if I could, but I can't, and that's all there is to it!" Boliver was her oldest friend in Fayre, and she didn't want to risk him, but there was no other way to learn what she needed to know. If there was one thing Kade regretted, it was her lack of the fay ability to shape-change and to fly. + + "Yes, yes. I know. You've got your head set on defeating the Unseelie Court and their minions one-handed, I suppose, and there's no dissuading you. Well, wish me luck." + + She stood as he vanished into starlight and streaked away toward the shadowy bulk of the palace towers. "Luck," she whispered. + + Chapter Twelve + + THOMAS WOKE BEFORE dawn, the wound in his leg stiff and sore. Despite the fire, the room was frosty and he sat on the bed and struggled into his doublet. He stood and limped around until he could walk without obviously hobbling, then tried to do a fencer's full extension. He got halfway down and needed the help of the bedpost to get back up. + + Phaistus was sleeping in front of the doorway, rolled up in a rug and snoring. He hadn't stirred when Thomas was bumping around the room and didn't wake when he stepped over him and opened the door. + + The anteroom was lit only by two candles on the mantel, their soft light making the blue wallpaper dissolve into shadow and hiding the disarray of the fine furnishings. Kade was sitting on the floor with the contents of an ebony trinket cabinet spread out around her. It was probably the silver-gilt curiosities and mother-of-pearl boxes that had attracted her attention, but it was the seashells, the baby's skull, and the ostrich egg that had undoubtedly kept it. + + She looked up at him. "Are you going back to the palace today?" + + It was too early for this. He dropped into an armchair. "Wouldn't that be an extraordinarily foolish thing to do?" + + "I don't know. I don't think about things that way." She held up a seashell with her bandaged hand, passed the other hand in front of it, and the shell disappeared. "I suppose it would depend on why you were going. And who went with you." She pulled the shell out of her right ear. "Do you want to find the keystone?" + + Thomas watched her for a moment. She was giving the shell the sort of concentration usually reserved for a deep philosophical problem. He was certain Denzil had returned to the palace yesterday, and he meant to discover why. He had thought the keystone was a lost cause. "Would that do any good?" + + "The wards themselves are still there, drifting over the older parts of the palace, and the other wardstones are still in place. If we replace the keystone, it will pull the wards back down into their original courses, and the Host will have to leave or be trapped inside." + + Thomas knew Grandier must have taken the stone, probably soon after he had arrived at the palace, but that still didn't leave them a clue of where to look for it. "He could have hidden the keystone anywhere inside the palace. Or more likely, he handed it to Dontane, that night at court when he was there, to hide somewhere in the city. It would be like looking for one certain rock in a quarry." + + "But it's a very special sort of rock. If I could get to one of the plain wardstones, and take a chip from it," Kade said slowly, "I might be able to use it in a spell, to find the keystone." + + Thomas frowned. "How?" + + "Years and years ago when all the stones were placed in the warding spell, they became one. Even when the keystone has been removed, and the matrix isn't there anymore, the stones remember. It's like using a lock of hair to find a person." She stared at the shell in her hand, vexed. "I should have thought of this before we left the palace yesterday." + + "There aren't warding stones in the Old Courts. It would have been just as dangerous to go into the other part of the palace then as it is now," he said. And you had other things to think about. "If you came with me, you could do this spell while we were in the palace, and discover if the keystone is still there?" + + Kade considered this a moment, her eyes moving through the collection of curiosities on the floor. "No. Am I a fool for being honest?" + + "No. Am I a fool for expecting you to be honest?" Even as he said it he realized it was true. He had been prepared to believe her answer, even if it had served her purpose. + + Kade didn't look up at him, staring instead at the shell lying on her bandaged palm. "So, whatever are we going to do?" She closed her hand, and opened it again. The shell had vanished. + + "Don't play coy; it ill becomes you." + + She pulled the shell out of her ear again and for the first time looked at him directly. "All right, will you say I can come with you or do we have to have a loud fight about it and attract the attention and speculation of the entire house?" + + Thomas sighed and looked at the ceiling. "I don't know, I could do with a loud fight. Gets the blood moving." He had seriously considered asking her to come already. She could escape any danger far more readily than he could and with her help his chances of accomplishing something increased to the point of the almost possible. + + Kade made the shell vanish again, stood to lean on his chair arm, and apparently found it in his ear. + + This time he saw it come out of her sleeve. "Get away from me," he told her cordially. + + Kade smiled. "I'm going with you, am I not?" + + He said, "Yes. We'll both be fools together." + + * * * + + Falaise did not complain when told she had another long ride ahead of her. She seemed just as anxious to go as they were to send her on her way. + + The Queen's presence had assured them the loan of some of Aviler's horses, and the servants readied them in the large roofed court that held the house's stables. The large chamber was warmed somewhat by the presence of the animals and was probably one of the more comfortable areas of the house. This did not entirely account for the number of city guardsmen who had ostensibly shown up to see them off, probably on Aviler's orders. + + Thomas was sending all the guards who had survived the flight from the palace, even the most badly wounded. Aviler would probably interpret this as the basest form of distrust, but at the moment the last thing Thomas cared about was the High Minister's opinion of him. + + He drew Lucas aside while Gideon was helping Falaise to mount and said, "I'm not going with you. I'm going back to the palace." + + He hadn't thought this would be well received and he wasn't mistaken. Lucas stared at him incredulously. "Why?" + + They keep asking me that, Thomas thought. Do I seem bored, that I have to invent these things to keep myself busy? "Why do you think? That's where Denzil went. He must realize that we'll get the Queen out of here, and with her gone he's not likely to come back." + + "What if he isn't there?" + + "If he is, it's the best chance I'm likely to have at him. If he's not, I can at least have a look at what's happening there before I go on to Bel Garde." He didn't know if Aviler had sent someone to follow Denzil or not; probably not, and he didn't want to give his own plan away by asking. It seemed unlikely that Aviler was in the plot with Denzil, but it had seemed unlikely that Galen Dubell was anything other than what he had appeared. + + Lucas said, "Send someone else, Thomas. Or I'll go." + + "No, it's a fool's mission. I'm not Roland, to send someone off to die on an idiot whim." Thomas glanced around. The argument, though low voiced, was attracting the attention of the city guards who were loitering in the stable and of Lord Aviler himself, who was watching from the narrow second-floor balcony where an arched door led into the rest of the house. + + Lucas noticed and made a concentrated effort to appear calm. "You're going alone?" he asked. + + Thomas found himself curiously reluctant, as if he were admitting to something. "No, Kade is coming with me." + + Lucas winced. + + "She's a sorceress, and she can get me back in without a fight." + + "I know, I know." Lucas hesitated. He looked toward the other men who were saddling the horses, or waiting half-nervously and half-impatiently for them to get on with it. "She could do it by herself. You don't need to go with her." + + Thomas shook his head. "She's not invincible, she only thinks she is." + + "So do you." Lucas looked back at him, saying deliberately, "In your condition, you'd probably slow her down." + + "Then it's no loss to anyone if I don't come back." + + Thomas had spoken with more heat than he had intended, but Lucas seemed to realize that line of argument was not going to get him anywhere. He said, "I'll wait for you here." + + "I need you to go with Falaise." + + "Gideon can do that. He's not a fool; he'll get her there." + + They were both silent a moment. Thomas didn't want to force the issue, not here, not now, and not with an audience. He said, "All right, then, but keep a couple of the men with you. And don't wait too long. If it takes more than a day, we'll have to hole up somewhere for the night, and this place may not be safe much longer. If something starts to happen, get out and ride like hell for the gates." + + Lucas nodded distractedly, then without looking at him said, "You know that girl's half in love with you." + + "Falaise will keep." Thomas looked over at the Queen, who sat her horse with a kind of delicate ease, a few ringlets escaping from her hood. "If anything, it will make things easier in the long run--" + + "I'm not talking about Falaise." He hesitated. "You didn't see her when she thought you were dying. I did." + + There was only one other "her" he could mean. Thomas said slowly, "Well, she's the excitable type." + + "It was more than just that." + + "You're mad," Thomas told him, but couldn't help thinking about a woman who chuckled wickedly to herself at odd moments and offered to kill people for him. + + "I'm only telling you to watch yourself, that's all," Lucas said, his expression serious. "She's not exactly an ordinary woman." + + "I realize that," Thomas said. Believe me, I realize that. + + "You think you do, but I've known you a long time and you've got a blind eye when it comes to this type of woman." + + Thomas said, "Now I know you've gone mad," and turned and went back toward the others. Gideon was holding the bridle of Falaise's horse and looked up as he approached. Thomas said, "Do you think you can get her back to Roland without losing her somewhere along the way?" + + The younger man's eyes lit up at the chance to redeem himself. "I'll get her there safely if I die for it." + + "Don't die until she's out of the city." + + Falaise leaned down and said, "Captain, remember what I said." + + "I will, my lady," he answered, thinking, Let's all survive the day at least before we start plotting again. + + Kade was waiting beside the sorrel gelding Thomas had chosen for their outing. He had managed to get his buff coat back from her, and she was wearing instead a thick wool doublet that Berham had scavenged for her over about a dozen other layers of assorted clothing. She asked, "What was all that about?" + + He checked the girth, then swung up into the saddle. "None of your concern." + + "I'll wager it was." + + He looked down at her. "Would you like to be left behind?" + + "Not particularly," she answered brightly, dropping the matter with an insight that shouldn't have surprised him. She held up a hand and after a moment he leaned down and helped her climb up behind him. Two grooms opened the carriage doors, allowing in a wave of frigid air, and she said, "What a nice day this is, except for the prospects of being killed and freezing to death and all that." + + Thomas, feeling the light pressure of her weight at his back, tried to avoid thinking about what Lucas had said. + + He guided the horse out onto the street and waited until Gideon, Falaise, and the others had started on their way to the city gates, then turned back toward the palace. The sky was gray, almost the same color as the dingy snow piled deep in the streets, and the wind played roughly over the tops of the houses. He was reluctant to take the direct route they had used to escape, but the first side street he picked was blocked halfway down by rubble and a pile of collapsed scaffolding, some noble's building project that had not withstood the shock of the attack, let alone the test of time. + + They backtracked, then cut through an alley to the next street. It was slow going, the horse picking its way through the knee-deep drifts with some difficulty. The town houses towering up on either side gradually gave way to the more dilapidated structures of the trading classes. The shingled roofs became wood instead of slate, the brick facades showed signs of wear, and ramshackle balconies overhung the street. It was hard to tell how much damage had been done here; the windows were tightly shuttered as if for night, and there was no sign of life. Thomas was keeping an eye on the tops of the buildings, and spotted the fay before it saw them only because he noted the unevenness in the spacing of the ornamental gargoyles atop the roof of an aging church. Kade said, "Wait," and he reined in, the horse sidling uneasily. The quality of the light around them changed as Kade covered them with illusion. They moved slowly on beneath the waiting presence, unnoticed. + + They had ridden a short distance down the deserted street when Kade said suddenly, "I wonder why they did it." + + "Who?" + + "The Unseelie Court." He felt her shrug. "The Bisran document said they wanted souls to trade to Hell for their immortality, but that's nonsense. Not even the Host trades with Hell. Besides, you can't just send someone there; they have to go on their own. So what did Grandier give them?" + + Once Thomas had known who Grandier was, the plot had started to peel away like the layers of an onion, but there was still much they didn't know. Grandier's motivation for helping Denzil for one; Thomas refused to believe Grandier was acting simply out of madness. "Maybe it isn't what he gave them, but what he's promised them. What would they want?" + + "The only thing that stands against them is the Seelie Court. And iron wielded by humans." + + "Destroying us isn't going to do anything to the Seelie Court, is it?" + + "No, they don't care about anyone." + + "So... They can't destroy our ability to make iron. No matter how badly they ravage the countryside, they can't get every blacksmith." He paused as an errant gust of freezing wind whipped down into the street, momentarily making breathing difficult, then continued, "Bisra will invade long before they can get around to that, and they'll have another iron-wielding army to deal with." + + Kade sounded thoughtful. "Will the Bisrans come here?" + + "No, they'll strike at Lodun. It's closer to their border, and they have to eliminate the sorcerers there before they advance any further. If they move fast, if our crown troops are still trying to retake this city, they just might succeed." Lodun had been a small town before the founding of the university. It had since outgrown its confining and protective walls and depended on the strength of the border garrisons for its defense against possible attack from their longtime enemy. With the capital in chaos and unable to send provisions or fresh troops, those garrisons could be swept away. "There are some powerful sorcerers there, but without troops to back them they can't hold off a large assault. The Bisrans would have to cross a countryside where there would be a peasant in every bush with a matchlock; but of course that wouldn't do more than delay them. They would finish us, then tear through Adera and Umberwald." It would be a long bloody war. + + "Human sorcerers," Kade said suddenly. + + "What?" + + "I was wrong. The enemies of the Unseelie Court are the Seelie Court, iron, and human sorcerers." + + "Which Lodun is well supplied with. Grandier could have told them that he would destroy Lodun. And he will. Bisra will do it for him." It was a neat bit of reasoning, but it didn't explain Denzil's position. Could he possibly be bargaining to be a puppet princeling under Bisra's domination? There wouldn't be anything left worth ruling; the Bisran Church would condemn as a heretic everyone from Lodun sorcerer-philosophers to the peasants who kept a sprig of rowan over their doorways. "Right now Grandier has us over a barrel. We're on the defensive, forced to react to whatever he chooses to do. If Bisra invaded again, we would have to forget an attempt to retake this city and use the troops to fortify Lodun and the border." + + "But Grandier must hate Bisra, hate it worse than anything," Kade protested. + + Thomas reined in. "There's something coming down the street." + + Kade leaned around him. "I can't see it." + + "It was near the ground." + + The horse reared suddenly, and it took Thomas all his strength to wrestle it down. Kade slipped off and staggered in a high drift, and Thomas dismounted. He held onto the reins and tried to soothe the horse as the animal whinnied and jerked its head. Behind him Kade murmured a curse. He looked down and saw white mist rising out of the snow. It was no more than a foot or so above the ground, but it was becoming thick and solid with alarming speed. + + The horse made a violent convulsive movement that nearly yanked Thomas off his feet; he let go of the reins to avoid being knocked down. The horse bolted awkwardly away, leaving a trail of blood in the snow. It was only able to make a short distance up the street before it staggered and collapsed, felled by whatever was rising out of the ground. + + The nearest building, a three-story stone structure that seemed to be leaning slightly under the weight of the snow, had a staircase running up its side to the roof. Though it looked casually put together and was slippery with ice, it seemed a safe haven at the moment. Kade had already retired to a step above the rising mist, and Thomas quickly climbed after her. + + "It's a boneless," Kade said. She was digging in the pockets in her smock and muttering to herself. Above her rough gloves, her wrists were dotted with blood where she had touched the ground to catch herself when she had stumbled. "This may be a problem. It doesn't have eyes to fool, and I don't have a spell that can hold it back, the way it oozes around obstacles." + + Thomas said, "Go further up." + + They climbed to the second floor and Thomas stopped to see what the creature would do. The mist had taken on a kind of half-solidity, becoming a white undulating form. On the step above him, Kade shifted impatiently. + + It reached the stairway and hesitated. A white translucent tendril touched the bottom step, then it flowed onto it and began to climb after them. "I didn't know it could do that," Kade said, obviously taking the thing's action as a personal affront. Thomas gave her a push to get her started and they climbed up to the third floor. + + The houses were so close together that the street might have been lined with one continuous structure. The garrets of one hung over the next roof, and the overhanging balconies were awkwardly shoved together. There was a slippery step down to a projection of ice-covered roof, then a brief scramble over the wooden rail to the next house's balcony. Kade climbed like a monkey. + + They went that way down the street, balcony to balcony, taking to the icy roofs only when it was absolutely necessary. They were more exposed to the wind up here and the cold was intense. Thomas kept up a good pace, trying to ignore the aching wound in his leg. + + They reached the end of the street, which opened into a square with the far side formed by the palace wall and the Postern Gate. + + It was deadly quiet. Before the attack, this area had been a small marketplace, crowded with street vendors, musicians, pickpockets, and madmen proselytizing new cults. Now it looked as if it had been run over by a cavalry charge. The ramshackle stalls that had grown like spiderwebs between the pillars of the large countinghouse were smashed, and the statues atop the public fountain were broken off, their naked copper pipes leaking trails of ice. + + The last house had partially collapsed, and the nearest stairway to the street level was blocked by wooden debris. + + As Thomas wrested the heavy wooden boards aside, Kade said suddenly, "What are you going to do afterward?" + + "After what?" + + "After this is over." + + He stopped and stared at her. She was holding onto the wooden railing and shivering with cold, and had put the question with the same puzzled intensity she had shown during their speculation over the Host's motives. He said, "Don't you think that question is a bit premature?" + + "Would you accept Falaise's offer?" she persisted. + + There was a smudge of dirt on her nose, which he decided not to mention to her. He said, "Do you have to know everything?" + + "I wasn't asking about everything." + + He turned back to clearing the stair. "I might have to accept it." It wasn't a decision he wanted to make at the moment. + + "Only if you wanted things to go back to the way they were before." + + Only if he wanted to hold onto that power he had sentimentally wished to be rid of last night. "Why would I want to change it?" + + It wasn't a question but she answered it anyway. "Because there are things you don't like about it, like killing people who get tricked by Denzil or get in the way of someone powerful--" + + "Do you mind?" he interrupted her. He shoved the last board aside and they climbed down to ground level. + + The Postern was smaller than the huge edifices of Prince's and St. Anne's. It had no gate tower and was much narrower. One of the great doors stood open, the other lay in the plaza. Thomas hoped whatever had rammed into that yard-thick wood now dearly regretted it. "Lucas was right," he said. "The way that door's been flung, something broke out, not in." + + They paused in the rubble-strewn shadow of the last house and Kade considered a moment, frowning. "They'll expect us through the Prince's Gate, since it was safe before." + + "They'll be watching all the gates." + + "They might not. They're not very quick thinkers, most of them, and they might not remember things like that. And Denzil didn't have too many knights with him." + + "He may not have any knights with him now. He can't afford witnesses," Thomas said dryly. + + They skirted the square, staying close to the buildings, finally reaching the shadow of the wall and slipping through the gate. + + To the right of the snow-covered yard there was a high wall, part of the inner defenses designed to trap intruders, and to the left, the three-storied Gate House with gaping holes in its dressed stone wall. Directly ahead was the icy canal, which came in under the north wall and went out under the east, where it was covered over by stone for a mile or so before rejoining the main river that cut through the city. The drawbridge that had allowed access to the rest of the palace compound was a ruined heap, but the siege wall beyond it still stood, blocking the view of the park. Thomas stopped beside a hole in the Gate House wall and took a cautious look inside. "I want to see what's around the Gallery Wing before we rush over there. If I can get up to the second story here, I can see over that wall." + + Kade followed him through the gap, saying, "Why do you think Denzil's in the Gallery Wing?" + + "I don't know where he is, but that's where the Host seemed to hit the hardest, and that's where the explosion was. I'd like to see just what in hell they wanted there." + + Light came down through the torn roof, and the shattered beams had buried many of the defenders. Only the cold kept the atmosphere from resembling a charnel house, and a dull patina of ice hid most of the unpleasant details. The interior staircase had come free of the wall and hung at a crazy angle, but a pile of smashed beams and rubble allowed Thomas to climb to a window on what had been the second floor. + + "They might have any reason for doing that," Kade said. + + Thomas winced as beams shifted underfoot. "Yes, well, I'd like to know what it was." + + "It might have to do with the way they arrived here. However that was." + + Something about the way she said it made Thomas wonder for a moment if she had some suspicion she wasn't ready to explain. He considered pressing her about it but he reached the window and found the shutters jammed shut. He had to brace himself and batter the hinges off with his swordhilt. + + He pried the shutter away. On the other side of the canal, the park stretched out, an ice field marked by the occasional snow-covered tree. Beyond the park, the Gallery Wing stood, the inner wall and the bastions to the other side looming like monoliths, contrasting dramatically with its graceful outlines. Nearer to the Gate House was the dome of the Summer Residence, which doubled as an observatory for astrologically inclined nobles and scholars. A wall sprouted out of the circular building and met the side of the Old Palace, sheltering the Gallery Wing and the gardens from the public areas on the other side. There was a servants' passage in that wall, and in the thick outer wall of the Old Palace. They could make their way out the opposite side of the Gate House and along the curtain wall, cross the canal where the unused mill bridged it, then enter the Summer Residence and take the passages into the Gallery Wing. + + He climbed awkwardly down again, trying to avoid putting weight on his weak leg. Kade, who had been prowling about the place on her own, met him with a worried expression. She said, "The stupid dark fay have used most of the glamour around here. If it's like that all through the inside, I won't be able to hide us from them." + + Thomas considered that. He had come too far to go back at this point. "If you want to stay here and wait for me, or start back--" + + "Do I look like a coward?" she asked, with an exasperated expression. + + "No, you don't look like a coward." + + For some reason this seemed to disconcert her considerably, and Thomas reminded himself again to be careful. She tapped one foot impatiently, then said, "Well, all right then. Let's go." + + Chapter Thirteen + + KADE FOUND HER warding stone along the passage into the Old Palace. It was cold and silent in the narrow little hall, and only the soft glow of a lamp they had appropriated from the Summer Residence held back the darkness. Thomas waited while Kade dug through the clay seal near the bottom of the wall to pull out the round water-smoothed stone. + + He used his dagger to chip a piece off for her, and when he handed the stone back, she said, "That's odd. It's tingling, as if it's still part of the warding spell." + + She was staring at the stone in perplexity, so he said, "Maybe it's something to do with the wards over the Old Courts?" + + "Maybe. It's very odd." But she replaced the stone in its niche and they moved on. + + When they reached the Gallery Wing, the narrow passage opened into a small bare room with a curtained doorway in the far wall. Thomaspushed it open a slit, seeing that they had come out about where he had thought they should. On the right wall was the wide sweep of stairs leading back into the lesser galleries, which would eventually lead to the Grand Gallery with its terrace giving onto the park. To the left was the arched entrance to the Old Palace and the main hall. This area at least was empty, bare of any intrusion except a fall of blown snow across the parquet floor. + + They hadn't seen any fay, though twice in their trek across the palace, Kade had steered them around places where she seemed to sense some presence. Most of the creatures who could stand daylight were out hunting the streets. As for the others, and the main body of the Host, they might be hidden anywhere. It had been a cold trail marked by the dead, and the amount of damage was worse than Thomas had suspected. Now he waited until Kade put out the lamp, then he pushed the curtain aside and went cautiously to look into the entrance of the nearest gallery. At his side, Kade said, baffled, "What is this?" + + Light fell through narrow windows high in the opposite wall to illuminate a formal gallery with a vaulted ceiling and delicately sculpted columns with blue and gold inlay. The floor was littered with refuse and debris, most of it looted from other portions of the palace. There were pallets made of tattered blankets, tapestry work pulled from walls, and the heavy damask of curtain material. Gold and silver plate, dented candleholders, and ornaments prized off statues formed glittering heaps. Thomas picked his way through it, thoughtful and wary of anything that might be lurking under one of those piles. Besides the loot, there were more prosaic items such as a scatter of gunflints, green glass shards from a shattered wine bottle, and more of the trash left by military camps. With the toe of his boot, he turned over an empty wooden powder flask and said, "It's a troops' billet." + + Kade's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Troops? Denzil's troops?" + + "Very likely. Bel Garde is a private estate, and he has the right to maintain a force to garrison it, even if it is within sight of the city." But where are they now? Thomas wondered. Plain to see why he had to have them. You can't take a throne without a private force whose loyalty you can trust, but why aren't they here? Jewelry that must have been stolen from the bodies of the slain had been left casually about. He picked up a pearl clasp and saw it still held strands of long dark hair from where it had been torn from its owner's head. He tossed it back onto the floor in disgust and looked around, entertaining the idea of torching the place. Broken furniture would provide plenty of kindling. But it would reveal their presence, and when the troopers returned they would only move to the next gallery. + + He glanced back at Kade and saw she was staying on the edge of the encampment, looking around uneasily. "What is it?" + + "There's a great lot of iron in here." She retreated to a marble bench along the wall and began to scrape the bottoms of her boots off on it. + + Thomas knelt and brushed gloved fingers across the layer of dust and filth covering the warm butter color of the inlaid wood floor; he found small particles that glinted dully in the light. "Iron filings. They're everywhere." So these men did not quite trust their fay allies. He had wondered if they would find evidence of the human servants of the Host that had led the attack, but they wouldn't be here in the presence of all this iron. They might have been only shock troops, to be expended in the battle. If the siege lasted much longer, the Host would certainly be able to replenish their supplies, when starvation began to drive more people out into the streets. + + He dusted his hands off and went back to where Kade waited at the edge of the camp. + + "If they stayed here last night--" She swiped at her boot one last time, brushing the last of the dust off. "Where are they now?" + + "If we knew that, we'd be a damn sight better off." Thomas considered a moment, weighing the danger against what else they might discover. "We have to go further in." + + She gave a half-shrug. "Very well. But I think it's going to get worse." + + They followed a lesser-used path toward the center of the Gallery Wing, through a connected row of state dining rooms and smaller pillared halls, and it was there they found most of the dead. Many had died running, caught alone by some creature of the Host with the walls shaking from the explosion and lamps going out in the foul wind that had followed. There were small groups of Cisternan guards and sometimes servants and courtiers who must have tried to band together to escape. Worst of all, they came upon a small room with the remains of a smashed barricade across the door, where a group had held out for a time. + + Hours, at least, Thomas thought, leaning against the remains of the doorframe and feeling a rage as cold as the ice outside. Judging by the condition of the room. He recognized some of the men, and one of the women. She was Lady Anne Fhaolain, one of Ravenna's gentlewomen, and she clutched a fireplace poker in a delicate hand that had never held anything more dangerous than a sewing needle. He would have to tell Ravenna that Anne had died bravely, trying to swing a weapon. He would also have to convince himself that if he had been here the result would have been the same, only there would have been one more body in the cold little room. + + He turned away to find Kade standing behind him. She was trembling in impotent fury. She said softly, "There's nothing that can make up for this. Not if I hunt him all the way to Hell itself." + + Somehow he hadn't expected that it would make her as angry as it did him. He said, "You take this all very personally." + + After a moment, Kade shook herself all over, like a cat coming out of the rain. "I take everything personally." + + There was more evidence of the presence of the fay. Not far from the sad little room, they found a silken web stretched across the width of an arched doorway. Kade examined it cautiously, then detached it from the doorframe. It drifted gently to the floor, all in one piece like a fine section of lacework. So far they hadn't found any answers to their questions. The day was getting on and Thomas's bad leg was aching from walking, and he knew they didn't have much time left here before the danger became extreme. They would have to settle for seeing the Gallery Wing and then making their way out. + + They reached the foyer of the Grand Gallery, where there was a heavy foul smell, reminiscent of bats in a deserted cathedral. Thomas whispered to Kade, "They could be in the walls all through here." + + She nodded. "Spriggans. They're asleep. I hope." She flitted past him into the archway. He saw her pause there, and as he came up beside her he saw why. + + Light from the steps that gave onto the loggia illuminated the foyer, and the arched entrances provided a panoramic view of the Grand Gallery. The floor had been blown up from below and the back wall of windows onto the terraces had been smashed outward. This had to be the source of the explosion the night of the attack. This was the center of it then, Thomas thought, and beside him Kade said grimly, "They did a job of work in here." + + The orange trees between the pillars were frozen but still green, the cold had caught them so by surprise. Thomas sensed there was something alive here and looked up from the blasted ruin of the floor to the shadowy stillness of the vaults above. But nothing moved in the silence. + + In the center of the room, the foundation stones had been pushed up from underneath by some powerful force and scattered on the bare twisted earth visible beneath. But not scattered randomly. Thomas took a few steps into the room, wondering at it, then climbed the dais so he could get a better view. As he had thought, the broken area of the floor was in the shape of a large circle, with an outline too perfect to be accidental. The shattered stones formed concentric circles within it. It couldn't be anything but a fayre ring. + + Peasants found them occasionally in the deep country, circles of trampled grass, stones, or strange growth, and avoided them like the signs of a dangerous infestation that they were. Stories about humans who blundered or ventured into them were not pleasant; usually they were found on the edges of the rings as dried withered husks, as if they had aged a hundred years in a moment. Any attempts to recover the bodies caused them to dissolve into dust. + + If they were all like this Thomas couldn't imagine someone foolish enough to wander into one accidentally. It felt dangerous, and it was as unmistakable as a sharp drop off a cliff. + + Kade stood regarding the ring for a long moment, and now she followed Thomas up onto the dais. She said, "Fancy that." She sounded more satisfied than anything else, as if the sight confirmed some hypothesis of her own. + + Looking down at her, Thomas felt the beginning of a new suspicion. He said, "They used that thing to get in somehow, didn't they?" + + Still distracted, she nodded. "They came through it. With the wards confused and floating away, and no spells guarding it, it was the easiest way. I mean, not too easy, with the stones on top of it like that, but all of them together could do it." + + "Through it?" + + "Yes." She glanced at him a little warily, then explained, "It's a doorway." + + "A doorway to where?" + + "To Fayre, maybe. To lots of places." + + He looked back at the ring, its tumbled stones a silent presence in the shadowy room. Kade grabbed his elbow. "Listen." + + After a heartbeat, he heard it too. Voices, echoing down through the long galleries locked in cold silence. + + Thomas hurried back to the archway, trying to pinpoint the direction. Tracking the sound echoing off so much stone and marble wasn't easy. The men might be in any one of the several galleries and long halls that led up to the Grand Gallery. Neither he nor Kade had spoken in louder than a whisper, and it was doubtful that whoever was coming this way had heard them. + + He motioned for Kade to follow and they crossed the spriggan-haunted foyer, and Thomas chose a smaller hall used for diplomatic processions, where the sound had for a moment seemed louder. They went down it, keeping to the partial shelter of its supporting pillars. The voices had ceased. + + "I don't think this was it," Kade whispered. + + "No, it must be another--" + + They both heard the footsteps at the same time. + + Kade looked around frantically. "There's not enough glamour in here." + + Thomas searched hastily along the wall and found the unobtrusive servants' door that was designed to blend into the paneling. He went to it, sliding his hand down the crack that marked it until his fingers touched the catch. He pulled it open. Inside was a cramped stair leading up into the wall. Climbing it, they came to a landing with a damask-curtained doorway and another broader stair leading down and away from the hall. Thomas pulled the curtain back and saw that the door led to a small musicians' balcony, one of many spaced around the gallery. + + He put his hat aside and crouched down, crawling out to look down through the balusters. Kade followed him. + + Denzil and Dontane walked into the gallery from an archway below. So the bastard's alive, Thomas thought, brows lifted. Dontane had been imprisoned in the Cisternan Guard House during the attack, and Thomas had assumed he had been killed with the others. The two men were arguing animatedly; they were trailed by three men armed as common troopers. The Albon knights who had accompanied Denzil at Aviler's house were probably dead; they would not have betrayed Roland, and it must have been obvious at this point that the young Duke's game was more serious than a petty attempt to disgrace the Queen's Guard. + + Denzil was dressed for battle, and Dontane still wore black court brocades. He made quick nervous gestures when he spoke, but it seemed to be more from intensity and anger than anything else. + + The echoes were now a hindrance rather than a help. The two men were speaking more quietly after the first shouting that had revealed their presence, and Thomas couldn't make out what they were saying. He heard Denzil mention Bel Garde, and he thought he heard Roland's name, but the rest was inaudible. + + He edged back and sat up on one elbow, pulling a pistol out of his sash and winding its mainspring. The faint click it made was disguised by the two men's voices. + + Kade glanced back at him, raising her eyebrows inquiringly. + + He motioned for her to go back through the doorway and she crawled backward out of the way. + + The range was not the best; with a pistol, closer was better. Thomas steadied the weapon on his arm and squeezed the trigger. Both men reacted to the sound of the blast; Denzil staggered. Thomas scrambled back out the door, shoving the empty pistol back into his sash. There would be no confusion about where the shot had come from; the white smoke hanging over the little balcony would reveal his presence like a flag. + + Kade was already on the landing, and he followed her down the wider stair. It came out through another servants' door in the foyer, and he could hear running footsteps and a man shouting. Drowning it out was a low humming sound that seemed to come from everywhere. + + Looking around, Kade gasped, "Damn, but that woke them up." + + A gray-skinned spriggan with a face like a melted wax mask dropped out of nowhere to land within arm's length of them; Thomas ran it through with his rapier almost before he realized it was there. It reeled away shrieking and more of the creatures appeared in the doorways, racing toward them down the halls. Something troll-like, squat, and hairy blocked a doorway, snarling at them. + + If they could just get outside and out of the things' sight, Thomas knew Kade could hide them with illusion. He thought of the broken expanse of windows in the Grand Gallery. This idea must have occurred to Kade because she was already dragging him in that direction. + + They ran under the archway and toward the broken windows that led out to the terrace and the park. Skirting the torn section of floor where the ring lay, they were almost there when one of the clawed demon-horses leapt up the terrace steps. Thomas swore, spun around, and drew his last loaded pistol. + + The howling pack of spriggans rushed toward them in leaps and bounds; Thomas fired into the group to make them draw back. They scurried and scattered as the ball tore through them. + + Something shoved him from the side and he stumbled, then felt his bad leg give way. Unable to catch himself, he fell over the edge of the broken floor... + + ...and felt a rush of warm air as he landed in soft verdant grass. He gasped and pushed himself up. He was in a wide open field under a sky of an odd crystalline blue. Nearby Kade rolled to her feet and shook out her hair, dislodging only a small amount of the greenery caught in it. Around them was a ring of stone menhirs, each nearly ten feet in height and weathered by great age. It was warm and the grass was the deep green of spring, touched with splashes of red from poppies. + + Thomas stood up, stumbled a little, and looked around. About a hundred yards away the craggy face of a cliff towered above them, dotted with grassy clumps and hung with a thick growth of ivy. In the distance he could see that the ground rose gently up in a gradually increasing grade, as if they were in a deep bowl-shaped valley. "Where in hell are we?" + + "Knockma," Kade said. She looked defensive. + + He stared down at her. "Fayre?" + + "No. Well, yes. In a way." At his expression she burst out, "If you don't trust me I really can't think why, because I haven't done anything deceptive for days." + + But Thomas had looked up at the sky, and barely heard her. The deep blue was there, and far above floated drifts of puffy whiteness that were clouds, but there was a barrier that seemed to hang at about the level of the cliff top. It seemed solid and yet malleable, and was transparent, allowing the sunlight in but gently muting it. He felt a soft breeze, stirring the grass with a faint rushing sound, and the barrier shimmered with it as if it were made of the most delicate glass or... He managed to tear his eyes away and looked at Kade. "Is this...the bottom of a lake?" + + She bit her lip. "Yes." + + He was getting over the shock, and starting to realize exactly how angry he was. "You knew all along how the Host got into the palace." + + Kade paced around in a circle, not looking at him. "I knew about the ring. It was how my mother got there in the first place years ago, but Galen and Surete and the others added a spell to the wards that blocked it. The ring could have faded away; sometimes they do." Though he hadn't had a chance to reply, she threw her arms up in exasperation and continued, "All right, and I sent Boliver to fly over the palace last night and he said they must be using the old ring because there weren't any new ones. I didn't say anything because I wasn't sure." She stopped and shook herself. "No, that's not true either. I don't know why I didn't tell you." + + "You could have mentioned what you were about to do." + + "There wasn't time." + + "There was time when we were standing there staring at the ring before we heard Denzil and Dontane." He looked around for his rapier and found it buried in the high grass a few feet away. It and his pistols had come through the ring intact, and he wasn't sure whether to be surprised by that or not. He slipped the blade back into the scabbard and said, "Damn it, woman, I trusted you. I told you something I swore I'd take to my grave unsaid. I let you watch while I shot the goddamn King's buggering cousin. You know enough to get me drawn and quartered a dozen times over." He was shouting at her now. "You could have bothered to mention that you not only had a quick method of escape from the palace, but that it involved taking me into Fayre which I think you realize is not a place where I wanted to go!" + + Kade shouted back, "I had to think about it and by the time I did there wasn't time anymore! And this is not exactly Oberon's Court. I mean, I live here and it's not the most dangerous place on the map for humans and you could credit me with some sense." Her smaller lungs gave out and she sat down hard on the grass. After a deep breath, she continued in a normal tone, "...and I'm not used to trusting people either and I find it very frightening, and sometimes I don't know what to think about you." + + What she had said about trust being frightening had hit home with more force than she could have realized. More calmly, he said, "Neither do I." + + Neither spoke for a few moments. Kade sat in the grass and looked tired. Thomas felt he could hardly argue with her for saving their lives, even if it had involved frightening him half to death. He said finally, "So you live here?" + + "Actually, over there." She pointed. + + He looked behind them and then up, and thought, foolishly, No, you haven't seen everything. More than half the length of the lake away, a small round island was suspended in the crystal surface of the illusory water. On top of the island, stretching high overhead, was a castle. It was ancient, its stones tinted green by moss, its three towers capped with round turrets in a style decades out of date, stairways curving up them like twining vines. What was amazing was that its reflection in the water that was not water was not a reflection. + + A second castle grew downward from the island that was the base of the one on the lake's surface, like a stalactite growing from the roof of a cave. It was a mirror image of the castle above, and the sharply pointed top of its tallest, or lowest, turret was gently brushed by a willow tree. + + "It's nice, isn't it," Kade said softly, standing at his side now. + + Thomas felt he had to agree. "Did you make it?" + + "No, it's been here forever. It's a Great Spell, like the palace wards, only more complicated and much older. The people from Merewatch, the village up on the shore, can fish in the lake and row boats on it, and drown in it if someone down here doesn't happen to be watching. But if you know it's a spell, you can walk into it without getting wet." She dragged a foot through the grass thoughtfully, then said, "I'm sorry I brought you here without saying anything first. It was rude." + + He looked down at her, admitting, "I overreacted. I didn't know there would be places like this. I thought it was all blood and bogles, like the city is now." + + "I hate bogles." She pointed back to the ring marked by the stone menhirs. "That's the Knockma Ring. I think it was here before the lake. With it I can make a ring anywhere there isn't iron or wards or something to prevent it. It's the only ring I know of that can do that, and both the Seelie and the Unseelie Courts want it. I can send us back to the street outside Aviler's house, to see if Lucas and the others have left yet." She hesitated. "Now that Denzil's dead..." + + Thomas shook his head. "I don't know if he's dead. I'm sure I hit him, but he might be only wounded." + + Kade frowned. "That would be very inconvenient." + + "To say the least." Thomas couldn't get his mind off the castle. "When you're inside, are you upside down?" + + "No, that would be silly. It's bad enough as it is, with the stairs all funny in some places. In the middle, between the castle on top and the one below, you have to climb a ladder for a bit and no one likes it." + + They stood in silence for a time, until Thomas saw something oddly like a large red dog leaping over the grass toward them. "A friend of yours?" he asked. + + Kade said with a sigh, "I suppose so. That's Boliver." + + By the time Boliver arrived he had managed to become a wizened little man about Kade's height with red hair and an odd peaked hat, and the bluest eyes Thomas had ever seen. + + When he had reached them, Kade asked, "How did you know I was back?" + + "How could I help but know? They must have heard the yelling in the next century." He jerked his head back toward the castle. "The others are watching with a spyglass from the wind tower, and it fell to me to come out and ask just what was doing." He eyed Thomas speculatively. + + Kade shaded her eyes and peered at the castle. "Don't they have anything better to do?" She shook her head in annoyance and turned back to Boliver. "Have the Host tried an attack yet?" + + He said, "No, but I been to the village and they say they've seen a hag in the pond and there's been odd things setting the dogs to barking and the sheep to running." + + Kade winced in genuine pain. "It's what I thought." She nodded to herself, resigned. "The Host will come here soon." + + Thomas hated to see her so torn and desperate. "Look, you've done enough. Send me back to Aviler's house and stay here." + + She shook her head. "No, that's what they want. If I let them chase me about, then they'll know they can make me do anything they please." + + Thomas understood that only too well. It was a damnable trap, one he had been caught in most of his life. He watched her, knowing there was nothing he could do to help her, that his own involvement had made her decision all the more difficult. + + She paced and tugged on her hair. "This place is very strong. It can hold itself against them without me for a time. The village... Damn it, the village." She stopped and told Boliver, "Go up and tell them there's going to be a battle; tell them to run." + + "Very well, I will." The fay hesitated then and, with what had to be uncanny and devastating perception, said, "So here's your reason. Well he's got my heartfelt sympathy." + + Thomas lifted a brow at Kade, though it was a struggle to keep his expression neutral. The look Kade directed at Boliver should have dissolved him into charred coal on the spot. She said quietly, "You're dead." + + Boliver shifted uneasily, as though realizing he might have overstepped himself. He said, "I'll just go and have a word with the village, shall I?" + + "Yes, why don't you do that." + + "Have to be quick, you know. Wouldn't want to be caught by the Host." + + "It wouldn't be nearly as terrible as some things I've just thought of." + + "Ah. I see. Well, I'll be going now." Boliver whirled around rapidly, becoming a ball of heatless flames. He shot toward the lake surface above like a firework. + + "Do me one favor," Thomas said. + + "What?" She was blushing furiously and attempting to ignore the fact. + + "Don't kill Boliver." + + Kade sighed, managing a rueful smile. "I wasn't going to. I just wanted to think about it for a bit." She dug in the pocket of her smock and produced the chip taken from the wardstone. "I can do this now." + + She started toward the castle, and still half-unwilling, he followed her. + + As they reached the base of the hilly garden, the castle had begun to look almost ordinary, as if it were perfectly normal to hang upside down from an island suspended in glass with its top turret brushed by a tree. If he had ever thought about it at all, Thomas would have expected a place like this to be eerily perfect, without blemish, as if it were carved out of marble, all imperfections smoothed away. This fayre castle had cracked stones where heavy climbing vines had silently invaded, moss growing around its windows, and was crumbling around the edge of its parapet. + + Below the lowermost turret, a stone stair curved up the hillside garden to meet one of the windows, and Thomas followed Kade up to the top. The garden itself was a little overgrown, as if it was only tended when someone had the time. The grass was tall, flowers hung out of their beds, and heavy rosebushes had all but taken over the low wall that circled it, but the fountain was running cheerfully. + + The room inside the turret was round, taking up the entire top, or bottom, level. It was lined with book-filled shelves, and clay jars seemed to be crammed into every available space that wasn't occupied by the books. It smelled thickly of herbs and flowers, and sunlight from the wide window had faded the once-bright colors of the carpet and the chair covers. + + Kade hopped down onto the wide stone window seat and then to the floor. She glanced back at Thomas as he was getting his first bemused look at the room. "Not what you were expecting?" she asked. + + He stepped down from the window seat after her. "If I'd ever considered it, I wouldn't have expected to see the place and still be in any kind of condition to comment on it. You were a deadly enemy of the crown not so long ago, remember?" + + "I'd forgotten." She crossed over to the shelves on the far wall. "Well, it doesn't look like the abode of a wicked fay sorceress, but this is where it's all done, all the plots, all the nasty little tricks." Kade ran a hand along the shelves, and selected a large dusty volume. + + She flipped through the book until she found the page she wanted. He watched her as she stood on the lower shelves to take down several of the clay jars. He asked, "How did you find this place?" + + "It belonged to my mother. She had others, but she lived here most of the time. After I left the convent, I looked for her. I looked so long and so hard she eventually had to let me find her." + + Kade dumped the armful of jars on the draw table. "She wasn't a very nice person, not exactly what I was hoping for. But she was taken with the idea of having a daughter, for a while at least." She paused in dumping the herbs and powders out of their containers and smiled at some memory. "She gave me a fayre ointment to take the mortal scales off my eyes, so I could see through fayre glamour. She had more people here, fay and humans, allof them bound to her somehow." She went back to her task. "She had Boliver locked up inside a stone in the garden. He's a phooka, and he likes to change into horses and dogs and fool people, but he's mostly harmless, and he wasn't very happy inside a rock. I broke it and let him out, and Moire threw a terrible fit, but she didn't really do anything about it. That's when I realized that I didn't have to do what she said. I knew sorcery, and she was wary of it." + + While she tossed ingredients into a bowl and muttered to herself, Thomas paced the room. After a time, she stopped to glare at him and he took the hint and settled into the window seat. He looked out into the bright air of Knockma and the realization of what Grandier and the Host had done to the city struck with renewed force. If Ravenna and the others hadn't reached Bel Garde safely... + + It wasn't long before Kade said, "Now we wait until it works." She ran her hands through her hair. "If it does." + + "If it does," Thomas said. "The keystone's place was in the largest undercellar of the Old Palace, in the base of the fourth pillar from the north side on the third row." At her look of surprise, he explained, "I wasn't comfortable being the only one alive besides Urbain Grandier who knew that." + + Kade came to stand next to him at the window seat, looking out into the garden. She was blushing, and he wondered why. He said, "What happened after you released Boliver?" + + She lifted a corner of the faded gold curtain and looked at it as if she had never seen it before. "I disobeyed her frequently. She pretended not to care. Then the Unseelie Court tricked her and she had to go to Hell, and I inherited everything. Most of her people ran away as soon as she was gone. Boliver stayed because he's feckless and hasn't anything better to do, and a few others stayed because they haven't anywhere better to go." She was quiet for a moment, looking out at the overgrown comfortable garden. + + It was hard to believe that Boliver had ever been imprisoned out there, or that anyone but Kade had ever lived in the quiet dusty peace of this room. Thomas said, "Or maybe they liked it well enough where they were, once your mother was gone." + + Kade looked down at him, her gray eyes serious. "I think you like me a little bit, even if it would half kill you to admit it." + + "It would not half kill me to admit it." The sunlight, muted and changed by the layer of illusory water above, transformed the color of her hair to the same dusty gold as the drape. After a moment, he said, "I know what Ravenna told you, that night in the Guard House. She was oversimplifying the case. She does that when she's trying to get something she wants very badly." + + Kade clapped a hand over her eyes, reeled around, and half fell into one of the wooden chairs. "Do you know everything?" she demanded. + + "No. If I knew everything, we wouldn't be in this situation." He smiled. "But I suppose I should be flattered that she considers my presence an inducement. I'm old enough to be your father." + + "But you're not." She slanted a deliberate look at him. "You're not?" + + "No, I wasn't at court then. And I do keep careful track of those things, in the event they become important later." Thomas realized he could hardly be doing a worse job of putting her off if he had actually set out to seduce her. + + Kade shifted uncomfortably. "I told her I didn't want the blasted throne." + + "I know. If you'd accepted, it would have been a rare disaster. Exciting, but a disaster all the same." + + "Well, that's what I thought." She hesitated a long moment, drawing a design with the toe of her boot on the floor. "Do you trust me?" + + Tell her no, he thought, and whatever it is that's happening between us will end. But he didn't want it to end. He wanted to see what would happen next, to follow it to its conclusion. He wanted it more than anything else he had wanted in a long time. He said, "Yes, oddly enough, I do." + + She bolted back across the room, stood for a moment in front of the shelves, then took down a white-and-blue banded jar. She wandered back, and not looking up at him, she said, "This is the fayre ointment my mother gave me. It will let you see through glamour. Not all the time, because fay can use glamour to fool each other, but if they don't know you're there, or that you can see them, they won't know to hide from you. I mean, if you want it." + + There's more to this than just that, Thomas thought. It will make some kind of tie between us, and then what will happen? Anything or nothing. He pulled off his glove and held out his hand. + + * * * + + The room was cold and still, windowless, a single candle sparking color from the blood red fabric of the walls, leaving all else to fade into the gray-black of shadow. Urbain Grandier sat at the table, the polished wood chill under his hands, his face turned toward a framed parchment map of Ile-Rien. The southern border with Bisra was marked in red, Umberwald and Adera to the north and east in blue, and the compass rose and the faces of the four winds were rendered in precise and loving detail. Grandier could not possibly decipher the ornate script that described towns, rivers, and borders in the wan flicker of the single candle, but his eyes were as intent as if he treasured every faded brown scratch of the artist's pen. + + There was noise outside, voices, then an alarmed shout. The door banged open, revealing Dontane and an Alsene trooper, half carrying, half supporting the young Duke of Alsene between them. Denzil's shoulder and left arm were soaked with blood, his doublet and buff coat torn aside to reveal lacerated flesh. There were more troopers out in the brightly lit anteroom, and one of the young lords of Alsene who had arrived with the duchy's troop that day was shouting at them. Grandier rubbed his eyes under Galen Dubell's gold spectacles and said mildly, "Put him on the daybed. And for heaven's sake, shut the door." + + Grandier stood and winced. He still felt the old pain; his mind tracing the path of injuries that this body had never known. He lit the other candles in the room as the two men took Denzil to the couch and gently let him down on it. The Duke's face was bleached white, fierce with pain. One of his young pages had followed them in and now knelt anxiously beside the couch. "How did it happen?" Grandier asked, watching them. + + "The Gallery Wing," Dontane replied. He stepped back from the couch, breathing hard from exertion, sweat gleaming on his forehead. "Someone was there, and fired at us from cover. It woke the fay sleeping in the walls, and they overran the place so quickly we didn't have a chance to pursue him." + + Grandier tut-tutted under his breath, taking his leather-covered apothecary box out of a cabinet. "To be expected." + + Dontane stared. "Expected...?" + + "Of course. It would be a very great mistake to think our opponents are fools. They were bound to investigate at some time." + + "Then they know the Alsene troop is here." Dontane's sharp features were fearful. + + "I would imagine so, yes." + + Dontane strode for the door, gesturing for the Alsene trooper to follow him. Denzil watched him go, perhaps knowing as Grandier did that Dontane would take this opportunity to order the Alsene troops and officers, using the Duke's authority. Denzil was in no position to object; his blond hair was soaked with sweat, and he was biting his lips until blood came from the effort to not cry out. + + And bleeding like a slaughtered pig on good furniture, Grandier thought. After the poverty of his early life in Bisra, the abundance of first Lodun and then Vienne and the palace had astonished him. Ile-Rien had little understanding of its own wealth, of how valuable was the flow of goods from the foreign vessels flocking to its trading ports, of the surfeit of arable land that allowed any peasant with enough coins in his pocket to own it. Of how this wealth would affect those who did not possess it. His voice dry, he told the kneeling page, "You may go. This won't take long, and he can do without the necessity of adoration for a short while." + + The boy was too afraid of Grandier to argue. He left without protest but with several longing backward glances. Denzil took a breath, brow furrowed with exertion, and whispered, "Jealous, sorcerer?" + + It did not surprise Grandier that the Duke would make the effort to say something vicious despite his agony. Grandier examined the large wound in Denzil's shoulder where the pistol ball had penetrated and frowned at the visible bone splinters. "Oh, yes, terribly," he answered. "It affects my judgment, you see." He turned back to the apothecary box to select the necessary powders. Dontane had been the messenger in the forging of the alliance between Grandier and the Duke of Alsene in Ile-Rien, and that alliance had never been anything but uneasy. And Grandier did not like the accord he saw at times now between Dontane and Denzil. + + "Your affectation of superiority is amusing." Denzil gasped, closed his eyes briefly, then continued, "I hardly think you can take the high moral ground in this situation." + + "I, at least, am not a traitor. My homeland turned against me long before I returned the sentiment." Grandier came back to Denzil's side. On the panel supporting the daybed's canopy was a painted scene of nymphs, satyrs, and human shepherds enjoying each other's company in several ways that would have been displeasing to the Bisran Church. The casual displays of sensuality and the acceptance of it in Ile-Rien had also been a surprise. Like the acceptance of sorcery. Grandier had heard about it, about the university at Lodun, but he had not really credited the rumors until he had seen the reality. I wish I had come here as a young man, he thought. So much might have been different. + + "And what excuse do you make for your betrayal?" + + "Attempting to excuse the inexcusable is always a mistake," Grandier said. "Why not simply admit that greed overwhelms loyalty, affection, and common sense." + + "I have no affection or loyalty for Roland," Denzil said, voice grating with pain. "He serves my purpose." + + "I wasn't speaking about you," Grandier said. Denzil might have grown to hate the young King because of the power Roland held over him, even though as Denzil's friend and patron Roland had never exercised that power. Grandier understood this all too well. He knew the danger of allowing any individual, any state, any force of whatever kind, to hold one in its power, to control one's actions. "This is going to hurt, but I can't think why you should mind. You seem to enjoy the pain of others." + + Denzil's chuckle was weak, but it held real amusement. "You mean that as a taunt, but even you would be shocked at how accurate your assessment is." + + For an instant, Grandier hesitated. He knew Denzil to be a smiling killer, as excellent an actor as the hags who lured children to their deaths with their own mothers' voices. No, that was not quite the analogy he was searching for. He is not a monster, Grandier thought, but forces beyond his control have warped him past reason. Even as they have me. "Perhaps I would," he said, actually enjoying Denzil's presence for the first time in their short acquaintance. "We are both in good company." + + Chapter Fourteen + + "ROLAND, I WANT you to come with me." Ravenna stood in the doorway, her look of determination as grim as the faces of the Queen's guards accompanying her. + + Her son looked up at her nervously. He sat in an armchair holding a small lapdesk, though the paper on it was still blank. The room would have been light and airy in the summer, but now the wooden winter shutters covered the large windows and the fire in the hearth could not dispel the cold. There was no one with him but his personal servants; Ravenna had made sure she would not have to do this under the eyes of any courtiers or hangers-on. + + Roland turned the pen over in his hands and got ink on his fingers. "Why?" + + She said, "I have something to show you." + + Roland stood reluctantly. "Has something happened?" + + Ravenna knew he wasn't interested in anything besides news of Denzil's whereabouts and that he would realize she would not be the one to bring such news to him. "Take your cloak; we'll be going out on the wall." + + Immediately an impassive servant brought a thick fur-trimmed cloak from the bedchamber. Roland stood still for the man to arrange it around his shoulders. "Where's Renier?" + + "Downstairs, attending to the guard placements." + + "Oh." He followed her through the other rooms in the suite and out to a landing on the grand stairwell. Ravenna could tell Roland was uneasy, even though the four knights guarding the door to his chamber followed them and she was accompanied by her gentlewoman Elaine. + + They went up the stairs to a lesser-used floor, then waited as one of the Queen's guards unbolted a door and forced it open against the wind's pressure. They walked out onto the wall, which was sheltered by a shoulder-high parapet, and the wind tore through the crenellations like a mad creature. + + Ravenna and Elaine each held onto a guard's arm to steady themselves, and Roland forced himself to walk along unaided. Ravenna held her head down and tried to breathe the shockingly cold air, knowing she would pay for this ordeal later with coughing fits. In the face of everything else, it was a minor consideration. + + The sun was making a brief appearance, though dark clouds were visibly building up in the distance. To the north, if one could have forced oneself close enough to the parapet to take in the view, were several miles of snow-covered fields and then the rise of the city, like a man-fashioned mountain range. The wind had torn away much of the haze of wood and coal smoke that normally hung over it, and the snow made it appear pristine and empty. The other side of the wall looked down on the inner court, where Denzil had hosted gatherings in the summer and displayed the little fortress's wealth and elegance. When they had arrived yesterday, they had found the usual garrison depleted, and the steward had said that the Duke of Alsene had ordered most of his men to one of his other estates to quell some tenant problems over taxes some weeks ago. Messengers had been sent on to the Granges, a day's ride to the south, to General Villon. + + Ravenna wondered if Thomas was alive. + + There was no other man she had ever felt closer to, or who had actually understood how her mind worked without condemning her for it. When he had first been accepted into the Queen's Guard it had not been his political astuteness or his wit that had attracted her, though from the occasional flashes of ironic humor she had witnessed, she had suspected that he might possess those qualities. No, most of that she had discovered later, and that discovery had added more meaning to what had been one of the most pleasurable times of her life. + + You're getting old, my dear, Ravenna told herself. Old and frail and helpless. It was the constant underground war of intrigue that had beaten her down. She and Thomas had once found such subtle battles exhilarating, but now... Palace power struggles had always been intense, but since Roland's maturity, the battles had escalated into full-scale wars with no clear victors. Denzil had much to do with it, but it was also that the wolves sensed Roland's weakness. And her options to remedy that were severely limited. + + She forced her mind back to the present. Grandier had rendered the court's tenuous balance of power a matter for future academics to consider. If Thomas was alive, he would come to her when he could. If he wasn't... That would be for her to face alone. + + They were heading toward the old keep, a rough square tower more than seven stories high. It had been the center of the fortress before the bastionbehind them had been built. + + They reached the door into the side of the tower, and two of Ravenna's guards split off to post themselves at it. The others went inside, and Ravenna shivered gratefully. The keep felt warm after the wind. A guard stopped to light a candlelamp with flint and steel, and Ravenna saw that the Albon knights were standing stiffly together as if anticipating an attack they could do nothing to prevent. Roland saw it too and said, "What are we doing here, mother?" + + Ravenna didn't answer immediately. She started up the stairs, the guard with the lamp going on ahead, and there was only room for Roland to walk beside her. Finally she said, "I've made allowances for you, where Denzil is concerned." + + She could see he was slightly shocked that she brought this up in the presence of her guards, let alone Elaine. In an effort to outdo her effrontery, he said, "Allowances? You've been trying to turn me against him with lies for years." + + Ravenna stopped and looked at her son for a moment. As always, it hurt that he found her eyes hard to meet. She said, "My dear child, I didn't think you had noticed." + + Roland stared at her. "You admit it?" + + "Of course. Recent developments have made it possible." + + She continued on up the stairs, and Roland followed her, bewildered. He said, "I don't understand." + + "That man has made a fool of you." + + "He has been my only friend--" + + "He has used you to accumulate power and wealth beyond his reach under ordinary circumstances." + + "He's been the only one who cared for me; I gave him all those things--" + + "Of course you gave it all to him, Roland; that's the way these people work." + + Ravenna stopped on a landing and faced him. Roland was out of breath and must have forgotten that he was King and able to order her to be silent, if he could enforce it. He said, "You certainly never showed me any affection. You never gave a damn for me." + + "Perhaps you are right," Ravenna said. "You look too much like your father, and God knows I never gave a damn for him." She took a key out of her sleeve and handed it to a guard, who unlocked the door and pushed it open. + + "Go in there," Ravenna said. + + Roland didn't move. He was trembling, and his eyes were dark with hatred. He isn't stupid, Ravenna thought; he must know his cousin's protestations of eternal love are not sincere. But perhaps he thinks he can earn his respect by doing everything Denzil asks. It made her feel sick at heart, though her expression betrayed nothing. The world doesn't work in that fashion, and Denzil is not interested in respecting you, my foolish son. The guard with the lamp stepped into the room but stayed close by the wall. After a moment Roland went through the doorway. + + Inside was a large shadowy room, dark wood a rough veneer over the stone walls. The back half was filled with wine barrels and other boxes stacked to the high ceiling. "You wanted to show me this?" + + "Why would anyone store wine here, Roland, away from the livable portions of the fortress, high up where the air is so very dry, in a place more fit for the storing of other things?" Ravenna nodded to one of her guards. "Open one." + + He went forward and carefully knocked out the bunghole in a barrel at the bottom of a stack. Something dark flowed out. Roland started toward it, stopped when the odor reached him, but still went to kneel and touch the dark granular substance. "It's powder," he whispered. + + Ravenna said, "The four floors above us are as well stocked as this one. The supply does not quite rival the city armory, but I'm told that it approaches it. More than enough to stage a palace coup." + + Roland lifted his head, saw the pity on the face of the guard who had opened the barrel, then looked back at Ravenna. She knew her expression showed only weariness. She folded her arms. "Surely you are not going to say we brought it with us." + + He shook his head mutely. He stood and walked the length of the row. The lid had already been pried off one of the long boxes, and he lifted the coarse wood to see matchlock muskets packed in heavy cloth. + + Ravenna said, "There is another store of powder and shot, a small one, enough to supply the garrison for a few months, set where it should be near the gate. There is only one reason for all this." + + Roland began to tremble. "He will have an explanation." + + "Undoubtedly." + + "I'm going back now." He strode past her and down the stairs. + + His knights came to his side, Ravenna's party following. They reached the landing where the door led out onto the parapet, and Roland stopped, waiting. Ravenna reached him and regarded him quietly for a moment, then nodded for one of her guards to open the door. + + As the door swung back she caught a glimpse of the sky and saw it seemed inexplicably dark. Then she saw the body of a man lying half in front of the threshold, before the guard slammed the door and braced his weight against it. "Run," he said breathlessly. "Something's out--" + + A force struck the door half off its hinges. + + Ravenna ran, pushing Elaine in front of her, all thought for the moment purged from her mind. She saw Roland dragged by one of his knights, half flung up the stairs, shoved on when he stumbled. + + Below them, the door flew off its hinges and smashed into the wall. Someone fired a pistol and the noise seemed to galvanize Roland and he ran up the stairway with them to the landing. Ravenna grabbed the door there and flung it open, and Elaine stumbled inside. Then Ravenna stopped and looked back. She saw that the guards and knights were trying to hold the stairwell; there was already blood on the floor. There was screaming, and something roared, the sheer volume of sound making the ancient walls tremble. + + Roland was standing and watching, blank faced, in shock. He stood there until Ravenna seized his arm and pulled him into the chamber. + + Elaine was holding the candlelamp, trembling and wild-eyed with fear. Ravenna shut the door and bolted it, then stepped back, looking around the room and rubbing her hands together. Roland leaned against the wall, watching her helplessly. + + There is a way out, Ravenna thought. There was always a way out. She had never been trapped yet, and by God, she wouldn't be now. "This is a corner room," she muttered to herself. "There must be..." She took the lamp from Elaine and set it carefully down near the wall, then went toward the back of the room, trying to make her way past the boxes and barrels of powder. "Roland, damn it, help me." + + After a moment he joined her, wrestling a box out of her way but moving stiffly, as if terror had frozen his blood. "What are you looking for?" he gasped. + + "This, perhaps." It was made to look like part of the roughly paneled wall, but Ravenna's fingers found the edges and Roland helped her lift it away in a shower of cobwebs and dust. It concealed a small wooden door set back into the stone wall. Roland tugged on the iron handle and it came open with a protesting squeak. + + Dank freezing air flowed out. It was a well within the outer wall of the tower, and handholds had been carved out of the stone, leading down into darkness below. + + "For sieges." Ravenna nodded to herself. "It will lead all the way down to the bottom floor, with an opening on each level." + + Roland looked down and bit his lip. Ravenna knew what he was thinking: it would not be a pleasant climb for him, let alone the two women. He said, "Do you think you can make it?" + + "Of course not," Ravenna said flatly. She knew someone would have to stay to close the door and draw the cover over it or the fay would have them within moments. "Go on. You'll have to help Elaine." + + "But--" Roland automatically reached for the girl's arm as Ravenna pushed her toward him. "You can't--" + + Elaine said, "No, I'm staying with you." She twined her arms around Ravenna with unsuspected ferocity. "I won't leave you." + + Ravenna tried to pry her loose. "Damn you, you silly child, I--" + + Roland protested, "Mother, you can't stay here, they'll kill you, at least try to--" + + The door cracked as something heavy struck it. "Roland, go on!" Ravenna whispered furiously. + + He stepped onto the little ledge, then cautiously felt for the handholds. He looked back and said, "I--" + + "Climb," she ordered and swung the panel closed. Elaine helped her with the cover, and they wrestled it back in place, moving away from it just as the door gave way. + + Ravenna put her arm around Elaine's shoulders and the girl clung to her as the fay poured into the room. + + There were a dozen at least of varied shapes, bogles with distorted grinning faces, some hulking things with no faces at all, a delicate winged creature that looked something like both a demon and an angel. One of them had blood spattered on its mouth; Ravenna wondered if it was from one of her guards, and it was rage, not fear, that turned her to stone. They scampered or strode through the room, disarranging the boxes, searching, for the moment ignoring the two women. Ravenna wondered if they would casually toss a barrel onto the lamp; they did not seem to have any fear of the powder. + + Another fay entered. This, Ravenna knew, was the leader. He was tall and slight, human in shape but blue skinned, with a face of childlike attractiveness and a horrible leering smile. He bowed mockingly to her. "Greetings, Queen of Nothing. I am Evadne, a prince of the Unseelie Court." + + "What do you want?" she asked. She felt cold down to her bones, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, but her voice was still hard. + + "Your boy-king; why else would we go to this trouble?" He looked around the room. "You've hidden him, of course." + + Ravenna felt Elaine quiver slightly beside her. She said, "He isn't here." + + One of the troll-like creatures left off its search and grunted something at Evadne. He glared at it, then said to Ravenna, "We saw him come into this tower. You will tell us where he is." + + "He did not come into the tower. You can see that for yourself. Whoever saw him must have been mistaken." She didn't look around at the other creatures but she could tell they had stopped searching. They would have looked harder, she knew, if they had really been positive that Roland had come into the tower. They must have observed from a distance, and Evadne had taken the chance. + + Evadne paced across the room, glaring at the other creatures, who shrank back or snarled at him. He stopped and thought for some moments, his smooth brow wrinkling, then leaned down and spoke to the other fay. Ravenna could tell that some of them did not seem happy with his decision, whatever it was. + + He turned and came back toward the two women. "You will tell your men to bring him to us, or we will kill you." + + How daft, she thought. This thing doesn't understand us at all, does he? But it gave her an idea, and she thought she knew how to manage him now. She said, "I can't do that." + + "You can. You will." + + Ravenna pretended to falter. She thought she did it well; she raised a shaking hand to her brow, and said, "Please..." + + Evadne leered at her. "A King or a Queen, what is it to be?" + + "I..." She managed a fairly creditable sob. "I'll send the message." + + Evadne sneered in triumph. He snapped his fingers and a small winged creature with a hideous face produced a gold-chased quill, inkpot, and a ragged piece of parchment out of the air. It set the things down on the box in front of her. + + Ravenna gently disentangled Elaine's hands from her arm until the girl stood alone shivering, and sat down on the box. She picked up the pen and dipped it, then paused to frame her thought. She wrote, Accede to no demands and keep the men away from the tower. By my hand Ravenna Fontainon Regina. + + She hesitated. The fay didn't ask to see the note and had made no attempt to watch her write. He couldn't read, then. It made sense. Why would a fay read? + + Except for Kade, of course. Ravenna would have given quite a bit to have Kade at her side rather than Elaine, whom she had to protect. + + But would Renier and the others obey the note? Without Thomas here, there was no way to be sure. How could she make sure they would do it? There wasn't a way. + + Evadne snapped, "Hurry, old woman." + + Ravenna knew the expected response and tried to compose her features into something like fear. She had spent so much of her life concealing her fear that she had forgotten how to show it. She felt she looked more confused than afraid, but it apparently satisfied the fay. She said, "I'll have to seal it, so they will know I wrote it." + + "Go on, then." + + She folded the note and Elaine took the candle out of the lamp and handed it to her without being told. Ravenna looked up and saw the girl's expression, and knew she had read the note over her shoulder. There were both fear and trust in her eyes. She thinks I have a way out of this. + + Ravenna took the candle and dripped the wax onto the paper, then pressed her ring into it. Her personal seal, the crescent moon embossed by the family symbol of the salamander. It was not until then she realized she had signed herself Queen, not Dowager. Damn. Well, let them put that in their history books. Elaine reached for the candle but Ravenna set it down on the crate, grinding the base into the wood so it would stay upright. Now for the next part. She handed the note to Elaine and said, "Take this to Renier, dear." + + With an awful childlike smile, Evadne said, "I'm not sure I want to part with so lovely a hostage." + + The paper crackled a little in Elaine's grip. Ravenna said, "Perhaps you would take the message yourself, then. No doubt my men would like to meet you." + + He looked amused, enjoying Elaine's fear. "I suppose you're hostage enough for their good behavior. The girl may go." + + And you need no hostage for my good behavior? Ravenna thought. She resisted the urge to kiss Elaine good-bye and merely said, "Go on, dear." + + Elaine looked down at her, bit her lip, then turned and hurried to the door. I taught her not to cry before enemies and she doesn't. Ravenna nodded to herself, satisfied. That one turned out well. + + Evadne watched the girl go, but made no attempt to stop her. Ravenna waited until she heard Elaine's steps on the stairs, then relaxed a little. She settled herself more comfortably on the box and watched Evadne. + + The fay said, "He told me you would be weak. I see he was right again." + + It surprised her. "Who told you that?" + + "Our pet sorcerer, Grandier. He had leisure to study you." + + Your pet sorcerer! Your pet snake is more to the point. She said, "He doesn't like you very well, does he?" + + "He is a human, and therefore a fool." + + She inclined her head. "I see." + + The time passed slowly. Ravenna counted her heartbeats and stared at the candle flame. It kept her mind off wanting something to do with her hands. She saw Evadne grow impatient. He began to pace again, snarling at the other creatures. To distract him, she said, "I thought your kind could not attack during the day, only your servants and the lesser members of your court." + + He grinned at her implied insult. "Our sorcerer has made the sky darken for us, made the clouds turn black so the sun does not disturb us. Even now, one of our great ones perches on the outside of this tower, ready to destroy your men in the courtyard." He glared down at her. "Why don't they send out your king, old woman?" + + "It will take them some time to persuade themselves that there is no alternative." + + Evadne's stare turned curious, and she realized she had spoken with a smile. She thought of trying a fearful expression again, but it was too late for that. Oh, I'm leaving everything undone. Roland, learn from this if nothing else. Probably Elaine had unintentionally helped matters by telling Renier that Ravenna had some plan of escape. Roland had had more than enough time to climb to the bottom of the tower. Or fall to it, God help him, she thought. + + "They take too long. I think I'll tell my friend outside to kill a few men down in the courtyard, to hurry the others along." + + Ravenna said, "I think you won't." + + Evadne laughed. + + She said, "I may be old, but not too old to deal with you." She stood, and before he could think to come at her, she tossed the lit candle into one of the broken barrels of powder. + + The blast blew gaping holes in the outside wall, and brought the upper floors and the roof down on top of them. The flying creature perched on the side drifted to the ground in a ball of flame, keening most of the way. + + * * * + + When Roland's reaching foot touched solid stone he gasped in shock, then leaned against the rough wall and sobbed in relief. His arms were shaking and his fingers had begun to bleed. A hundred times he had seen himself falling to the bottom of the narrow well, bouncing off the walls, dying in filth and darkness. But the most painful thoughts did not concern his own death. He'll have an explanation. Powder and shot hidden in the tower, enough for a small army, and the fay have come and he isn't here, and wherever he is, he's taken Falaise with him... He will have an explanation. After a moment Roland rubbed his sleeve over his face and began to feel for the wooden door in the pitch darkness. + + Roland found a catch but the door was stiff from disuse. He managed to push it open a crack, enough to let in a breath of air, but no further. He hesitated, afraid to make too much noise. If the fay had taken all of Bel Garde, if they had won past the gate Braun's apprentices had said was sealed against them... Then we'll all die, mother and Elaine in the tower, everyone down here, and when they catch me... + + But then he heard voices, rough human voices, the familiar city accent. A woman asked some inaudible question, and a man's louder tone replied, "That's what I said, but they're looking for the King down here, and why he's down here I--" + + "In here!" Roland yelled. "In here! I'm here!" + + There was consternation outside, more voices, then lamplight fell through a crack in the top of the door, and Roland looked up into it gratefully. He saw a brown human eye gazing at him in astonishment. "I'm here," he said again. + + The eye withdrew, to the accompaniment of profane cursing. Then the door was pried open, the wood bending at the center and cracking under the pressure. Roland saw why he had not been able to push it any further. A wooden floor had been built up to it at about waist-height, probably dividing an ancient high-ceilinged room into two usable compartments. The man outside had to break the wood to get it open, and Roland reached upward and was drawn out by strong arms in a rough homespun shirt. + + The man, who was large enough to be a blacksmith, set him on his feet, then steadied him when his legs tried to give way. The room was a storeroom or pantry, shelves on the walls, piled with bags and barrels, and a group of servants and several wide-eyed children were staring at him in astonishment. "God," one woman shrieked, "it's the K--" + + She was leapt upon by several of her companions, one ripping an apron off and shoving it against her mouth. "Those demons are in the tower overhead," another woman hissed. "Who d'you think they're looking for?" + + "He's all over blood," someone else whispered. "They've tried to kill him." + + "No." Roland looked down at his hands and winced. "I was climbing. I have to get to Renier. I have to tell him--" + + "I'll go and fetch him, Your Majesty," the man who had pulled him out said. "Best you stay here; the beasts could be anywhere." + + "Yes, you're right." Roland leaned against the wall and watched the man pick up a musket and hurry out. A voice in his head whispered, Denzil lied to you all along. His friendship ended the day they put the crown on your head. Roland thought, But he saved my life. He did save my life, that wasn't a lie. But he was a boy then, and he wasn't my heir. He needed a live prince. But a dead king is a different matter entirely. One of the older women came forward with a scarf and, without meeting his eyes, started to gently wipe the blood from his hands. "Thank you," he said automatically. + + The woman who had tried to scream had been released and allowed to take the apron out of her mouth. She said in an audible whisper, "Now he seems a nice lad, not like what they say at all." + + Roland started to laugh. He knew they thought he was being brave, or hysterical, but he was laughing at himself. I must have always known what Denzil was, but I didn't care, I didn't care, and now he's going to kill me. + + Then the door opened again and two of his knights stood there gaping at him. + + And Ravenna and Elaine were still in the tower. The memory jolted Roland back into his senses and he started toward the knights. "Where is Renier? We have to--" + + The pure shock of the explosion knocked him to his knees. There was screaming, and Roland knew past his own fear that the others in the room were reliving the moment of the explosion in the palace, when the nightmare had started. One of his knights was standing over him, as if the man could shield him from falling stone and timber with his own body. Dust settled around them, but no stones fell. + + After a moment Roland caught the knight's arm and pulled himself up. He felt pitifully weak from the long climb, from fear, from everything else. Many of the servants were still huddled on the floor, and he heard a woman weeping. "It's all right," he said, then repeated more loudly, "It's all right." He saw Renier then, standing in the doorway and staring at him. "What was that?" Roland asked. "What's happened?" + + Renier came forward and led him out of the room to a narrow passage beyond, out of sight of the others. "What is it?" Roland asked again. + + "Elaine said there was a gunpowder store in the tower." Renier's face was so pale he looked sick. + + "Yes. Elaine's here, they escaped? Where's my mother?" Roland couldn't understand Renier's expression. + + "She was up there with them." + + And Roland knew. To the last he had fooled himself into believing he had been sent for help, not sent away from death. + + But part of him still failed to comprehend, and that part said, "What was that noise?" + + "That was the tower." + + * * * + + The cold was a shock. + + Thomas shook his head and blinked hard. It was almost twilight in a gray world of muted color and dim light. They were in an open square in front of Aviler's house. The walls of other town houses rose up around them, and snow had buried the fountain in the center. Around he and Kade the new fayre ring appeared in the snow as a shallow trench in the shape of a perfect circle. + + The corner of the house loomed above them, the shingled roof dusted with ice and thin gusts of smoke issuing from the chimneys. It was quiet, the dim glow of candlelight showing through the shutters on the upper floors. Thomas said, "I didn't realize it was this late." + + "It takes time to travel through the rings. We've lost an hour or so out of the day," Kade said, but she was looking up and frowning. She folded her arms and shivered. "Though the sky is very dark." + + Thomas started toward the house, thinking that one over, and Kade followed him. He supposed it made sense that time would be lost traveling from ring to ring, even if it didn't make sense that one was not aware of that time's passage. + + The spell that Kade hoped would show her the location of the keystone had still been inert in its bowl when they had left. Once Thomas found out if Lucas was still here, Kade was returning to Knockma to see if there had been any result yet. + + They moved around the side of the High Minister's house to the alley, and there Thomas stopped and loaded his pistols. In making the open attempt to kill Denzil, whether it had succeeded or not, he had crossed a line and there was no going back. As far as the rest of the world knew, he had committed treason, and he had to get to Ravenna and tell her what he had done before Roland learned of it. + + There was a servants' door along the alley wall, and someone had taken the precaution of nailing iron cutlery to it to discourage fay. He listened at it for a moment, then tried the handle. It was locked, but the catch was not strong and he drew his dagger to pry at it. In the deep shadow of the alley the cold was far more intense, and Kade bounced up and down with her hands in her pockets in impatience. Thomas didn't comment; after the mild climate of Knockma, he was feeling the cold more as well. + + The lock broke, and he slowly eased the door open. + + Inside was a servants' passage with doors opening to either side. A candlelamp on the wall was still lit, but the tallow collected in the bottom showed it hadn't been attended to for some time. Kade slipped in behind him and he closed the door silently. + + She whispered, "Something's wrong." + + He nodded. The house was far too quiet. Aviler might have left the city, though Thomas thought the High Minister had meant to hold out here until the last possible moment. If Aviler had abandoned the place, he had had good reason. + + He whispered, "Wait here." + + She drew breath to protest and he put his hand over her mouth and said, "Please." + + After a moment, she nodded. He removed his hand and she said, "Just this once." + + He gave her a smile, then went down the dimly lit passage. He found a half-open door, taking a cautious look through it to see the small room on the other side was dark. There was a curtained doorway on the opposite wall, light flickering just past it. Then he heard the low mutter of voices. + + He tried to ease the door open only to find it stuck against something that lay on the floor. He shoved it open enough to see in and stopped. + + It was Lucas. + + Thomas felt the wood of the doorframe crack under his hand. + + Lucas lay on his back, and he had been shot in the chest, probably just as he had come through the door. He walked into a trap, Thomas thought, just as I have. + + The hesitation undid him. Armed men burst through the curtained doorway, shouting. + + Thomas ducked back out of the room and into the servants' passage, then halted when he saw more men coming out of another narrow hall, blocking his way. In the dim light all he could tell about them was that they were dressed in the ragged buff coats and mixed armor pieces of mercenaries or private troops. One drew a pistol and Thomas ran into a dark scullery and out the opposite door, momentarily losing them. He hadn't seen Kade at the end of the hall behind them; she must have slipped out the door. + + They would expect him to stay on the ground level and look for an exit, not to head for the upper floors. He found a narrow servants' stair behind a curtained door and climbed it swiftly. He heard men pound through the passage below, but they didn't come up. He reached the second floor and made his way through a darkened salon and anteroom set, searching for a windowed room at the back of the house. Climbing down the icy stone would be a problem, but he would risk the drop. + + There were more crumpled bodies on this floor, mainly city troops. Possibly the civilian refugees had been allowed to escape, though small chance that would be once night fell. Thomas was one room away from the family's private staircase and could see it through the open doorway. He heard voices and stepped back against the wall, half behind an arrangement of heavy drapes. It was shadowy and ill-lit here, where most of the candles had guttered. + + The men at the stair paused as someone gave orders, then spread out to the surrounding rooms. The light from the lamp one carried clearly showed Thomas the badge of the Duke of Alsene on their brown soldiers' doublets. It was a troop from one of Denzil's manors. + + There was a shout as someone saw him and Thomas turned and slipped back through the salon. The darkness and confusion worked for him, but they knew where he was now. He stopped in a darkened room to wind both his pistols. It would be dangerous to carry them like that but he was past that point now. He checked the doors as he went through and closed the bolts of the ones that had locks. + + Thomas paused outside the door of the next chamber. The stairs down into the stable court were just beyond it. + + A quick glance showed him two men waiting in the beautifully appointed room, both looking down toward the stairs. He pulled back as one started to turn toward him, and drew his pistol. + + Thomas stepped into the doorway and fired as the first Alsene trooper started forward. The ball struck the man in the chest at a range of no more than ten feet, sending him staggering backward into a row of lacquered cabinets. + + Thomas dropped the first pistol and drew the other just as the second man reached him. He deflected the thrust of the soldier's rapier by hitting the narrow blade with his forearm and batting it away, almost managing to grab the blade and pull it out of his opponent's grasp. As the man closed with him, Thomas's pistol was knocked upward. It went off, the blast deafening him and scattering burning grains of powder down onto his attacker. The soldier faltered at the pain, giving Thomas time to shove him away and draw his main gauche. As the man rushed him again, Thomas stabbed him under the ribs. + + He stepped back as the soldier collapsed, and in the sudden quiet he could hear others breaking through the locked door into the room behind him. He grabbed up his other wheellock from the floor and tucked it into his sash with the second pistol. Drawing his own rapier, he took the dying man's discarded sword and went out onto the landing above the stables. There he shut the door and wedged the extra blade through the catch to keep it closed. It would not hold them for long. + + He turned as the carriage doors below were flung open and a large group of Alsene troops burst in. Thomas judged the odds and knew this was it. He stayed where he was, to let the narrow landing guard his back for him. + + The first one to the top of the stairs came at him like a madman with something to prove. Thomas parried the first flurry of blows, then took the offensive, driving the man back a step. The lack of room worked to his advantage; with his bad leg he would not have been able to fight as effective a running battle. There were more of them waiting on the stairs below, and he knew he wouldn't have a chance to run. + + His opponent tried an unsuccessful feint and Thomas drove his blade deeply into the man's side. The soldier stumbled backward and the man on the step below lunged past him, only to be speared through the neck. He collapsed on the top step, choking and bleeding copiously, and temporarily blocking the landing. + + There was a brief moment of respite as the others below tried to wrestle their fallen comrades out of the way and Thomas hung onto the railing, panting. He could hear them battering away at the other side of the door, and it looked as if the thick wood around the wedged blade was beginning to give. The man with the neck wound made a loud strangled cry and stopped moving. + + Then Thomas saw a trooper on the stable floor below aiming a musket up at him. He flung himself back from the rail in pure reflex; this left room for another attacker to leap over the body blocking the stairs and come at him. Thomas parried the blows, letting himself be put on the defensive, trying to maneuver the man between himself and the musket. But moments passed and there was no impact or even the blast of a missed shot. They were trying to take him alive. + + This realization energized him and he closed with his attacker, bringing their swords hilt to hilt and trapping the other blade in the quillions to hold it away from him. Pushed back, the man stumbled on the corpse behind him and Thomas shoved him down the stairs. He leapt after him into the momentary clear space, slashing at the men below who were struggling to disentangle themselves. He caught one in the face, the point tearing through the man's eye and cheek before glancing off bone. The soldier fell against the wall, screaming. + + Another struck upward at him, and he felt a tug and sudden pain as the point punctured his leather sleeve and stabbed into his arm. He cursed and tore himself free, falling backward on the steps now slippery with blood. The idiots were still trying to incapacitate rather than kill him. No matter what their orders, I've given them enough provocation, he thought in disgust. + + Another man fought past his two fallen comrades in time to be stabbed in the chest, but Thomas's grip on the hilt was weak now and the point slid away instead of going deeply into the trooper's flesh. But it was enough to send his opponent reeling backward into the railing and Thomas struggled to his feet again. + + Then he was struck from behind, between the shoulder blades, knocking him into the wall with stunning impact. He slid down it, unable to catch himself, blackness flowing in at the edges of his vision. + + * * * + + Waiting beside the door in the darkened hall, Kade kept her freezing hands in her pockets and tried to calm her thoughts. Anything to keep her mind off the man who had driven her half-mad standing there on the green plain of Knockma being too much a gentleman to take any notice of what Boliver had said. + + With effort she managed to drag her attention back to the immediate problem. She didn't think Grandier could really be helping Bisra. Why not lure us into invading them? She could shrug and say it didn't matter; she would kill him anyway for what he had done to Galen Dubell. He was so like... + + The soldiers burst out of a door five short paces in front of her. Their backs were to her, and she instinctively searched for glamour to hide. There was hardly any in the dark hall, but the candlelight provided just enough for her to slip out the door unnoticed. + + Outside she dropped the barely adequate illusion and ran down the alley to the front of the house. She would have to get in another way, use glamour from the snow outside... + + The wall just in front of her exploded. + + She hit the icy ground, more from surprise than any impulse to duck. When the building did not collapse on top of her she looked up. Several men crossed the square toward her, one of them carrying a musket, the glow from its slow match just visible in the dusk. + + Shooting a poor little girl like me with something that large is hardly fair, she thought, dazed by the suddenness of it. At a distance and in bad light her red smock probably looked bloody. It wouldn't fool them at close range. + + She dug in her pocket, hiding the movement in the snow, and managed to draw out a piece of guncotton stained with powder she had prepared earlier. She brought it up to where she could see it without having to turn her head and stared at it, trying to conjure a spark. Sympathetic magic, or unsympathetic magic as Galen had preferred to call it, was faulty and difficult to use. She might only burn her fingers. If she could call flame at all. Damn it, Kade thought, a spark, just a little spark. But she did her best work under pressure, and as the men came nearer, her mind stopped chattering and she reached the right level of concentration. The edge of the cotton began to glow. + + Now. Just as the man with the musket suddenly shouted and raised his weapon, Kade sealed the concurrence spell. Every grain of powder within a ten-foot radius ignited. + + The musket exploded almost over her head, there were screams and blasts as pistols went off, then a storm of little popping sounds as the scattered grains of powder from the musket's blast ignited. + + Kade scrambled to her feet, her clothes dotted with someone else's blood. Three men lay dead or dying on the snow, two more running away around the corner of the house. She bolted after them, down the alley between Aviler's house and the next, into the street where they had fought the battle with the fay the day before. + + Kade slid to an abrupt halt as she reached the street. She felt her heart hit the pit of her stomach. The carriage doors stood open and there were armed troops milling in front of them. She could tell by their dress only that they were not city or crown troops. It looked as though there were a hundred of them. + + Someone saw her and shouted, she saw the slow match of a musket glow in the twilight; she darted back around the corner and ran. + + * * * + + "Where's the girl?" Dontane stood in the carriage doorway. + + "Gone," Grandier said. He stood in the middle of the street, wrapped in his scholar's cope, thoughtfully studying the sky. + + Dontane strode out and started around the corner of the house. "I sent five men after her. Damn it, she was running." + + "Perhaps she wanted someone to chase her," Grandier said, and followed him. + + On the other side of the house, they found the remains of the first group in the bloodstained snow. Dontane stared down at them a moment, then looked at the older sorcerer. Grandier was humming to himself and contemplating the sky again. Then Dontane saw what appeared to be a pile of rags on the snow further into the square. He went toward it. + + It must be the men he had sent after the sorceress, though all were dead and none was recognizable. They looked like corpses that had been left to mummify in some desert, dry desiccated husks. + + Dontane started forward but then stopped, his attention caught by Grandier, who was watching him with a speculative half-smile. Dontane took a step back and said, "There's a ring here?" + + Grandier nodded to a faint circular trough in the snow. He said, "It doesn't do to walk uninvited into Fayre. Or run, for that matter." + + Dontane looked down at the pitiful remains of the Alsene troopers and wondered if Grandier would have let him walk unknowing into the ring. But he only said, "Good, we're rid of her then." + + "Oh, I think not." Grandier smiled and turned back toward the house. "We have something she wants, you see." + + Chapter Fifteen + + THOMAS WOKE WHAT must have been only a few moments later, lying on the steps in someone else's blood with one of the soldiers standing over him, slapping him awake. He had been disarmed and his head hurt incredibly, and he made a grab for the man's arm only to miss. They dragged him to his feet and he thought, It can't last too long. + + He made them half drag, half wrestle him down the steps to the stable floor. Troopers wearing Alsene's badge moved around the enclosed court, stripping the weapons from the bodies of dead comrades as well as from those of the city troops who had tried to defend the house. The outside doors were open and cold air poured in as a smothering blast, temporarily lifting the thick odor of death that hung over the room. + + Dontane waited at the bottom of the stairs. He had participated in the battle--the powder-stained buff coat and the pistols proved that--but the pallor of his face made him look half-dead and his eyes were red-rimmed and haunted. He smiled at Thomas and said, "It seems I can now offer you my hospitality." + + Thomas looked past him but couldn't see Kade, not as a prisoner and not as a crumpled little body on the flagstones. The pain radiating through his skull made it impossible to concentrate. He managed to focus on Dontane. "Really? And I was given the distinct impression that your position in all this was a subordinate one." + + Dontane's expression tightened into anger before returning to the studied look of amused contempt. He glanced toward the open carriage doors where the daylight was beginning to fail, where Grandier must be waiting somewhere out of sight. His self-control had slipped since he had been in Lestrac's house biding his time and waiting for that foolish young lord to die. He looked back at Thomas and said softly, "It was you who shot at us in the palace, wasn't it? How very foolish of you to go back there. The Duke of Alsene isn't dead, you see. He's very much alive. And you are going to regret that." + + If they had caught or killed Kade outside, surely Dontane would brag of it. "I have regrets already. I regret you weren't on our side of the siege doors when the Host attacked, where after sufficient persuasion you would have accused Denzil and informed us of Grandier's disguise. I regret I didn't spare the time today to blow your head off--" + + He didn't even sense the blow coming. It rocked his head back and for a moment he sagged in the grip of the troopers as everything went black. He had time to hope that it would stay that way before the world slowly but relentlessly reasserted itself. The stable roof swam into hazy focus, and he swallowed blood and managed to lift his head. He said, "Careful, you might bruise your knuckles." + + "Grandier wants you alive." Dontane stepped closer. "What does he want with you?" + + Thomas heard the underlying tension in that cool contemptuous tone and sensed a possibility opening up before him. If only he could pull his pain-scattered wits together enough to take advantage of it. "Ask him." + + "It's easier to ask you." + + "And I had the impression you two shared confidences." Thomas knew he was provoking the other man too much, losing what little control he had over the situation. He had the sudden impulse to goad Dontane further into rage, just because he could, just because it was so easy, no matter what the consequences to himself. It was astonishing how difficult he found it to suppress that urge. + + Dontane struggled for calm and managed to lower his voice to say confidently, "Cooperate with me and it will go easier on you. Or do you really want to be handed over to that old madman?" + + "If you've taken him as your master, you're far madder than he is." + + Dontane snarled, "That's your last--" and Grandier's mild voice interrupted, "That's enough." + + Grandier stepped into the circle of lamplight, appearing suddenly out of the dim cold twilight outside. From his tone he might have been encountering the younger man at a promenade or a market square, but Dontane whipped around to face him. + + Grandier regarded him imperturbably. Dontane started to speak, thought better of it, and stepped back. + + Moving forward, Grandier said, "An unexpected pleasure, Captain." He still wore the baggy black scholar's cope, still wore Galen Dubell's face. + + That was the hardest part. Now that I know who he is, he should look like a monster, not like... Not like an old friend. Thomas tried to pull free of the troopers and was surprised when they allowed it. He stood on his own, swaying a little. "Are you getting what you want out of all this?" he asked Grandier. About ten of the Alsene troopers were grouped around him; he thought about fighting but his bad leg was trembling, threatening to give way, and the room kept swaying. He thought about attempting it anyway. + + Grandier regarded him silently for a long moment, his gray eyes calm as ever. "Not yet. But soon." + + At that moment it occurred to Thomas just why Grandier might want him alive. + + Grandier turned away, and while the troopers' eyes were on him, Thomas dove sideways and slammed into one of the men, ripping the sword out of his surprised grip and slashing upward at him. But a hilt cracked down on Thomas's head from behind, and in the end they took him alive. + + * * * + + Roland walked along a colonnaded porch open to the interior court of Bel Garde, his knights surrounding him, feeling as if his mind were a rusty clockwork that hadn't been wound in far too long. Everything felt out of proportion, and time seemed to move in fits and starts. He said suddenly, "The steward of this place must have known about the powder store. Arrest him at once." + + "Sir Renier has already done so, my lord." + + "Oh. Good." God, he realized suddenly. My mother is gone and there's no one to think of these things. He looked up, seeing the confusion in the court for the first time, recognizing the figures in the center of the milling crowd of servants and guards. It was Falaise, sitting her horse in her riding clothes with Queen's guards around her, obviously just come through the gates. + + Breaking free of his escort, Roland ran across the court to catch her bridle. He had never made the effort to get to know Falaise very well, but he was glad out of all proportion to see that she still lived. It seemed to promise that the world as it was had not been completely destroyed. "Falaise, we thought you were dead! Where were you?" + + She looked down at him, startled. Her expression was frightened and there were dark circles of weariness under her eyes. Her horse stamped and tried to nibble Roland's sleeve. She said, "My lord, I must see Ravenna at once. There is something I must...something I must..." + + "My lady," he said, not quite recognizing his own voice, "my mother is dead." + + Falaise turned white, the blood draining out of her face as if she were dying in front of him. Shocked, Roland called for help. Guards came to help the Queen from her horse; her ladies and servants appeared in the court. An Albon knight urged Roland away, saying, "My lord, you must come inside. It's not safe out here." Numb, Roland let the man lead him into one of the rooms off the court, thinking, Something has happened. What is she so terrified of? + + The room was long, with many windows to look out onto the garden court, their lace curtains woefully inadequate to stop the drafts. Roland paced tensely, rubbing his cold hands together, ignoring his knights and unsure of just what he was waiting for. + + Falaise appeared in the doorway, half-supported by the Queen's Guard Lieutenant Gideon. Past them, Roland could see two of the Queen's gentlewomen waiting outside, huddled together like children expecting punishment. Holding tightly to the lieutenant's arm, Falaise managed to cross the room, then collapsed at Roland's feet. He looked at Gideon in bewilderment, and the lieutenant bent over the Queen, saying, "My lady, you must tell him." + + "Tell me what?" Roland said. Sickness hit the pit of his stomach suddenly, and he groped for the table to steady himself. He remembered that Falaise had disappeared at the same time as Denzil. + + Falaise looked up at him, her face tear-streaked and frightened, but something in his expression must have encouraged her because she said, "My lord, I should have spoken days ago." + + Roland listened in agonized silence to Falaise's story of more treachery, of how Denzil had deliberately kept the Queen from leaving the city so that she would be in his power. "Before this, he had offered me marriage if you were to die, Your Majesty. I... I don't mean to accuse him but..." + + "No." Roland had to stop her. He didn't want to hear how she had concealed treason out of fear of him. He understood her reaction to his mother's death now. She had been counting on telling this to Ravenna first, counting on Ravenna to protect her from him. More nails in my coffin, he thought. "It's all right, really. I don't blame you. There are... Other things have come to light which... Perhaps you should go to your ladies now." + + The lieutenant led her away, and Roland stood at the table, staring at his own reflection in its polished surface. He had never loved Falaise, knew he never would, but this was the first time he had realized that he might have saved a great deal of trouble bysimply making a friend of her. When Denzil is with me it's as if I can't think. His fist struck the table and the face in the reflection twisted. Oh God, let him have an explanation. + + * * * + + Thomas didn't remember much of the trip back to the palace. They bound his wrists and got him on a horse, and he leaned over the saddlebow, unable to sit up. The cold grew intense as night took the city in a dark wave and the freezing air was raw on his throat and lungs. His stomach was cramping with nausea, and dizziness kept overwhelming him. + + He came back to full consciousness only when they were passing through St. Anne's Gate. He lifted his head and shook back the hood of the cloak someone had thrown over him. + + They were passing between the Cisternan Barracks and the Mews, as he had days earlier bringing Galen Dubell into the palace for the first time. I couldn't have been more helpful if I'd been in the plot with them, he thought. He hadn't even been able to get them to kill him. + + The barracks were a gutted ruin. The wooden panels over the three arched doorways had been torn open, exposing the dark pit of the interior and the piles of snow that had drifted inside. With the outer gate closed and guarded, the assault from within the palace would have caught the Cisternans completely by surprise. In the narrow corridors of the ancient stone structure the attack by the fay must have had the devastating effect of a hunter blocking all the holes but one of a rabbit warren, and then releasing his ferrets. + + The gates into the old siege wall stood open. As they rode through and toward the towering wall of the Old Palace, bogles dropped out of the eaves of the two long stone city armories across the court. Gray-skinned, ugly, distorted creatures, their yellow eyes gleamed in the gathering darkness. Each was short and squat, their arms hanging disproportionately long and their wide mouths grinning with rows of pointed teeth. + + Sniggering in almost human voices, the bogles ambled toward them; the nervous horses shied away. + + They stopped in the paved court beneath the bulk of the Old Palace, where lit sconces illuminated the high double doors of the westside entrance. Thomas managed to get off the horse on his own without falling. He held onto the saddle a moment while his head and legs became reconciled with the notion of standing. The troopers hung back from him now, watching him warily. He wondered if it was due to his unpredictability or his apparent familiarity with Grandier. + + Inside the circular entrance hall the few lamps made hardly a dent in the shadows. This area of the Old Palace seemed remarkably undisturbed, the untouched rooms and short halls leading off into darkness and silence. + + Grandier was standing beside him suddenly, and Thomas was too weary to be startled. Grandier said, "This way." + + Both Dontane and the sergeant in charge of the Alsene troops turned to look at him, but Grandier ignored their unspoken questions. He said to Thomas, "I want to show you something." + + Grandier led the way down a lesser-used series of rooms, lit only by the lamps the soldiers carried, and to a staircase leading down to the lower levels. At the third turn of the stairs Grandier led them into an old stone-walled corridor, and Thomas realized they were going toward the same cellar where the keystone had been concealed. He looked at Grandier walking beside him, but the older man's features betrayed nothing. + + As they moved through the cold rooms the flickering light revealed the sheen of sweat on a soldier's face, a white-knuckled grip on a swordhilt or musket that told volumes about the troops' relationship with the fay invaders. + + They reached a plain wooden stair leading down, and were now roughly backtracking the route they had taken away from the cellar the night of the attack, but heading toward the lower passageways they had been unable to reach because of the collapsed corridor. The strain of the fight had exacerbated the pain in Thomas's bad leg and it was protesting this treatment, but he managed not to limp too obviously. + + The stairs led to an unblocked passage below the storerooms, and the stale air carried the fetid smell of death. Thomas' thoughts kept turning back to Grandier's shape-shifting ability. Not that way. I don't want to die that way. He had given up everything else--his honor, his right to say he had never killed a helpless opponent, his claim on his ancestral lands. Voluntarily or pushed to it by circumstance, bit by bit everything had gone to win a few years or a few months or a few days of political stability in a world where so few others seemed to care, and most of them were dead now. He was willing to die for duty's sake but the thought of giving up his identity turned his heart to ice. + + There was light up ahead, from a place where there should be stygian darkness. Abruptly raucous noise, growling, and a high-pitched keening echoed off the stone walls. A few more uneasy troopers drew their swords. + + The corridor turned, and the first thing Thomas saw was that a large chunk of the stone wall had been knocked out, allowing a view down into the cellar. Grandier moved to the edge, and after a moment Thomas followed him. + + The Unseelie Court had found a home here. Fay with long emaciated bodies and huge leathery wings flew in lazy circles over the foul revelry below. There were hundreds of them, bogles, spriggans, formless creatures like the boneless that had attacked them in the street. The mockery and distortion of human and animal forms was endless and infinitely varied. Thomas could see them much more clearly this time, perhaps because they were not troubling to conceal themselves anymore. The light came from a mist that crept up the walls and wreathed around the giant columns supporting the ceiling. + + This opening had been made at about the second level of the cellar, and the wide pillars met the ceiling another two levels above them. Below were the remains of two flights of stairs and the narrow well that had enclosed them, now a mound of broken stone and shattered wood. Corpse-lights flitted around the stairs and the tops of the columns. + + The unnatural light was bright enough to let Thomas see the dark openings in the ceiling for the air shafts and the doors through which the larger siege engines had been lowered. Chains and frayed ropes hung down from some of those doors, the old system of block and tackle. Thomas said, "They fly up those shafts." + + "Yes." Grandier's gaze was on the unholy revelry below. "It protects them from daylight, but gives them access to the surface." He turned back to the others and said, "Dontane, they seem disturbed. Go down and ask them what's wrong." + + Dontane moved forward, threw an unreadable look at Grandier, then started the awkward climb to the bottom of the cellar. + + "So he is a sorcerer," Thomas said. + + Grandier glanced at him. "He's learning. He had been refused admittance to Lodun, and in anger he came across the border to Bisra, and to me for teaching before my arrest. I refused him, because I felt he lacked moral character." He smiled, amused, apparently, by this earlier self who had had the leisure to make such judgments. "Trust was a very important issue, among those of us who practiced sorcery in Bisra. The merest suspicion of necromancy, or anything else the Church could interpret as traffic with demons, was death. But after I escaped from the Inquisition, I sought him out. I had discovered I needed a man who lacked moral character. He was at Lodun with me after I was Galen Dubell, but one of the masters learned he had been across the border, and became suspicious of him. The rumors that I had come to Ile-Rien had already started, you see. So I sent him on to contact the Duke of Alsene for me, which he did through our unfortunate and foolish Lord Lestrac." + + Dr. Braun had visited Lodun frequently, Thomas remembered. "You killed Braun because he recognized Dontane." + + "I would have had to eventually, anyway." + + Thomas watched Dontane pick his way down the remains of the steps and said, "Are you sure he's not the one who turned you in to the Inquisition?" + + "Oh, good try." Grandier smiled. "No, that man is dead." + + Dontane had climbed halfway to the bottom, and now one of the winged sidhe flew to meet him, cupping its wings to hold itself in midair, gesturing and shouting at him in a high-pitched shriek. Dontane turned and waved at Grandier, his posture betraying irritation. Grandier said, "It appears this needs my attention." He nodded to the Alsene sergeant, then looked back at Thomas. "I'll see you shortly, Captain." + + Without Grandier's presence, the troopers muttered nervously as they made their way back, but Thomas was too preoccupied to notice. Why did he want me to see that? What did it accomplish? A will-o'-the-wisp followed them part of the way, playing in the unlit wall lanterns and taunting them silently. + + Thomas felt each step of the various stairways as a short stabbing pain. By the time they reached the upper floors of the Old Palace he was limping badly. They entered one of the smaller halls that had been set up as temporary barracks, now occupied by a few sullen troopers gathered around the hearth fire, and they passed through it into an attached suite. The last room had been stripped of furniture and wall coverings, and it was dark except for what light flickered uncertainly in from the lamps in the anteroom. + + Thomas watched tiredly as one of them pounded an iron spike with a set of manacles attached to it into the wall. With respect for his unpredictability, one held a pistol to his head when they untied him to put the manacles on. + + The chains were short but he was able to sit down against the wall. The troopers withdrew into the anteroom to huddle in a nervous knot near the hearth. + + He tested the set of the spike in the wall to see if it could be worked loose, but it held firm. Well and truly caught this time. He rested his pounding head back against the cold wood, and tried not to think. + + "I didn't believe they would let you live." It was Aviler's voice. Between the dim light and the distraction of various injuries, Thomas hadn't seen the other man chained to the opposite wall. The High Minister's dark-colored doublet was torn and bloodied, and from the livid bruises on his temple it seemed he had not been taken easily. + + Thomas closed his eyes a moment, damning the fate that had consigned him to be imprisoned with Aviler. Then he said, "Grandier wanted me alive, and if you imply I'm in league with him, I'll kill you." + + At the moment it was a supremely empty threat, but Aviler answered, "Don't take me for a fool, Captain." + + "I don't know what else to take you for." Thomas sat up and gingerly felt the back of his head. His hair was matted with blood, and there was a sizable lump composed of pure pain. + + "You can take me for a man who did not acquire my power in a Queen's bed." + + "Yes," Thomas agreed. "In her bed, on the daybed in the anteroom, on a couch in the west solar of the Summer Palace, and other locations too numerous to mention, and if you had the slightest understanding of Ravenna at all, you would know it never made one damn bit of difference as to whether she took my advice or not. And no, your father handed you your power wrapped in ribbon on his deathbed." + + The High Minister looked away. After a long moment of silence, he said, "I expect it doesn't matter now." + + Already feeling the bite of the manacles on his wrists, Thomas expected it didn't matter either. + + Aviler rubbed his eyes, making his own chains jingle slightly. "Galen Dubell really is the sorcerer Grandier, then. Denzil told me something of it when he brought the Queen to me, but under the circumstances I don't place much confidence in his word." + + "Dubell really is Grandier. He got a shape-changing magic from the fay, and he killedDubell and took his place." The stab wound in Thomas's left arm was still bleeding sluggishly, though the pain of it hardly competed with that in his head. The thinner sleeve leather of his buff coat had absorbed some of the force but the blade had still penetrated a couple of inches at least. He tore a strip of material from the tail of his shirt to use as a crude bandage. "Why are you alive?" + + "I don't know. No one's bothered to say. What's your opinion on the subject?" + + "He wants to keep his options open. He can't stay Dubell forever." + + As Aviler considered the unpleasant implication, Thomas tightened the rag around his arm, taking malicious satisfaction in letting the other man in on his private terror. He knew he had more to worry about on that score than the High Minister did. Grandier hardly knew Aviler. + + With Lucas dead--he hesitated in tying off the makeshift bandage, wondering who had done it, Dontane or some nameless hireling trooper--there was no one but Ravenna who knew him well enough to realize the deception immediately. He didn't think anyone could find a way through the complexities of his relationship with Ravenna, but that would only mean Grandier would have to kill her, the way he had coldly eliminated anyone who might have noticed that Galen Dubell had changed more than time could account for. + + Then there was Kade. + + Kade had done well enough leading her own erratic and dangerous life before Thomas had dragged her into this, talked her into staying with them past the point at which she could have left safely. And made her vulnerable. The little idiot trusts me. Lucas had been right. And he remembered that the last conversation he had had with his friend had been an argument; stupid thing to do in a war, and he would regret it the rest of his no doubt short life. + + Kade was her own woman, and he was too old to bother lying to himself anymore and too young not to want her. But any chance of anything between them was wasted, as pointlessly wasted as Lucas, Vivan, and ail the other lives lost and destroyed by Denzil and Grandier. + + There was a stirring among the men in the anteroom, and after a moment Urbain Grandier appeared in the doorway, carrying a candlelamp and a short stool. + + He set the lamp down on the scuffed floorboards, and glanced once, thoughtfully, at Aviler. Then he looked back to Thomas and said, "I felt I owed you more of an explanation." + + Thomas had a sudden impulse to delay whatever the sorcerer had come to say. He said, "You have Dontane fooled. He thinks you're mad." + + Grandier shook his head, put the stool he had brought just inside the doorway, and sat down. "I give him what he expects." He sighed, and looked like a tired old man. "He imagines himself to be subtle and dangerous, and I suppose he is, but there are things he fails to understand. Denzil, on the other hand, is rather like an incompetent copyist's version of you." + + As the clear gray eyes met his Thomas felt a stab of pure fear. Worry about it later, he thought. Grandier had probably noticed but there was no help for that. He said, "Do they know what you're planning? And there is a plan, isn't there?" + + "Yes. I first conceived it in my cell in the Temple Prison at Bistrita. I had to think about something besides the torturers, and the death by fire that waited for me." He looked down at his hand and stretched the fingers, contemplating the unbroken skin as if he did not quite recognize it as his own. + + And perhaps he doesn't, Thomas thought. He remembered the catalog of tortures the court documents had listed. Grandier was driven, dangerous, and intelligent, but not insane. It was almost as if he had passed into another phase of being that was not madness or sanity but some lawless ground in between. + + Across the room, Aviler shifted a little, breaking the silence with a faint clink of chain, and Grandier said, "Then an emissary of the Unseelie Court appeared with their offer, which you know about already. Part of a scheme on their part to suborn a human sorcerer, to make the Host more powerful in our world. It's a contest they have with the Seelie Court, their opposites in Fayre. Having a sorcerer at their beck and call would be a coup of sorts." He shrugged. "They thought me a likely candidate." + + Thomas realized he was trying to control the conversation out of panic, and that Grandier was allowing him to do it. Try to be a little less transparent, he told himself. You've helped the man enough already. Grandier seemed to expect a comment, so he said only, "The more fools they." + + "I thought so." Grandier smiled a little. "It's not entirely their fault, the trusting creatures. They are accustomed to Fayre, which bends to their will. The mortal world has sharp edges, bends to no man's will, and events occur with fatal finality. Mistakes are not suffered. Evadne was pressing me to give up this game and go on to something more entertaining. He was one of their self-proclaimed leaders, a very annoying character. He's dead now, of course. I rather thought someone might kill him eventually. And I meant to tell you, Kade escaped through the ring and is presumably in Fayre, at the moment." + + That's one mercy. Thomas fought not to show relief and asked, "Why are you helping Denzil?" + + "The Duke has offered me what I want. A war with Bisra." + + "We've had a war with Bisra. It didn't turn out that well for anyone." But things began to fall into place. Ravenna would never have agreed to another war. They had been the victors of the last long conflict with their mortal enemies to the south only by a bare margin. Even if Roland had supported such a suicidal course, Aviler and the other High Lords and advisors would have prevented it at any cost. + + "There was a war," Grandier conceded. "But I was not involved. And I have the Host." + + Thomas thought of the monstrous turmoil in the undercellars. He said, "If you want to turn them loose on Bisra, be my guest, but why do you have to destroy us in the process?" + + "I have no intention of destroying Ile-Rien. But I will have to alter it somewhat. Denzil needs the war to cement his position as usurper. When word leaks out that Vienne is under a virtual state of siege by creatures of Fayre, Bisra will move to take advantage. They need Ile-Rien's wealth to maintain a balance of power with Parscia, on their southern border, and their Church fears any sorcery not under its control. Justifiably so. + + "When the landed lords of Ile-Rien realize Bisra is marshalling its forces to attack, they will support any central authority that has a chance of marshalling a resistance. The Duke of Alsene will be that authority. Oh, that won't be all. There is to be some document of formal abdication, signed by Roland. Under what circumstances, I don't know." He looked over at Aviler, who had been listening in a kind of horrified fascination. "That explains your presence. Your position allows you to deputize the King's seal on state documents during an emergency when the King has been removed for his own safety. I doubt the originator of that particular tenet of courtlaw intended documents of abdication to be included in that category, and it would be laughed off if Roland's supporters took power again, but Denzil intends to keep all his options open." + + Aviler looked away, his face grim. "I will not sign anything for Denzil, for you, or for the Prince of Hell himself." + + "I know." Grandier nodded seriously. He turned back to Thomas. "Once the Bisran army crosses the border, and are no longer protected by their priests' defenses, the Host will help to harry them and they will be driven back. At that time, outrage against the Bisrans will be so high it will not be difficult to turn an army of defense into an army of offense." + + Thomas shook his head in disbelief. "The Host participates in this out of the goodness of its collective heart? What did you offer them, the destruction of Lodun? What arethey going to do when you don't keep up your end of the bargain?" + + Grandier looked up, surprised and pleased. "Oh, very good. Go on." + + "Denzil's motive is plain: he has to own everyone and everything around him. The Host wants the death of as many human sorcerers as possible. And you want Bisra. And I'd wager anything that you mean for no one to get what he wants except you." + + "And how will I accomplish this?" Grandier asked softly, eyes alight. + + "I don't know. But I don't think you'll let them destroy Lodun." + + "No, I would not let them do that." For a moment his expression turned abstract. "Evadne was the one demanding I destroy Lodun. He is not a factor anymore." + + Grandier hesitated, his face craggy and harsh in the candlelight. "I don't like Denzil; he is cunning and I will need help to manage him. But he will give me what I want, and so I must use him. Bisra will be struck by the might of your armies. Once their priests can no longer defend them from the fay, I can further the collapse. In time, there will be nothing left but to sow salt into the empty fields...and Bisra will cease to be. It will probably take many years, I know, but I have the time." He looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "I regret the necessity of a long war that will have ill effect on this land, but I really can't see any other way to start the process of collapse. You will agree that an all-out conflict can be particularly devastating." + + Thomas just looked at him. There was nothing to be said. Grandier was setting forces in motion he couldn't possibly control. The old sorcerer might never see his goal accomplished, but he would see years of destruction. + + Quietly, desperately, Aviler said, "What you are planning--dreaming--will never come to pass." + + Grandier got slowly to his feet, as if the cold hurt his back. "I have ridden the tide of events for many years. I am quite capable of guiding it now." + + Thomas looked up at him, and knew any argument was useless, but he said, "You are mad. You're handing the kingdom to Denzil, and he doesn't give a penny damn for you or your plans." + + "That remains to be seen." + + In a tone of quiet rage, Aviler said, "I hope you burn in Hell with your damned fay allies." + + Grandier chuckled. "I have already burned in Hell. You see the result. Heaven help us all if it happens again." + + Thomas said, "Has Denzil noticed that anyone who gets in your way dies?" + + "I don't think so. Not yet, at any rate. But then, you're not dead, and you were certainly in my way." + + Not nearly enough, Thomas thought. "That's only a matter of time, isn't it?" + + "It's what I'm told." Grandier regarded him silently, then said seriously, "There is one more thing. The Queen... The Dowager Queen Ravenna is dead." + + Thomas felt the silence stretch, felt Aviler staring at him. Calmly he said, "You're lying." + + "Not about this. She was trying to protect Roland. She succeeded and destroyed several important members of the Host in the process." + + "You're lying." Thomas tried to stand and the chains jerked him back to his knees. He didn't notice. + + Grandier closed his eyes a moment. "No. There are some things I regret, but this isn't one of them. She was too dangerous." + + And then he knew it was true. "You fucking bastard!" he shouted at him. + + Grandier turned to go and Thomas said, "You are a coward. You didn't have to do this." + + His back to Thomas, Grandier paused in the doorway, but then continued out. + + Thomas sank back against the wall. Aviler said, "It is a lie, surely." + + "No. No, it's not." It was the last thing he said for several hours. + + Chapter Sixteen + + KADE LANDED AWKWARDLY in the high velvet grass of the Knockma ring and rolled to her feet. She pressed her hands to her temples and tried to concentrate, feeling the lines of force radiating out from the ring around her. She reached out along them to open a ring in the maze court below the Old Palace. She opened her eyes and saw the green sward of Knockma, the menhirs standing around her in silent contemplation, and in the distance, the mist-shrouded column of the castle and its reflection. + + She snarled, shrugged out of her coat, and tried again. + + After four failures she knew it was no good; she couldn't form a ring inside the palace. What did Grandier do? He would have had to ward the palace against her, that would take... But traveling the rings from the palace to Knockma, to Aviler's house and back here, had distorted her sense of time's passage. By the sky, they had lost nearly an hour on coming to Knockma and returning to the city. Moving from the less powerful ring she had made at the High Minister's house and coming back, she could have lost more than that. + + Grandier could have begun the spells against her when he was alerted to her and Thomas's presence in the palace. It would not have taken long if he used the wards already in place. No time at all if he had used another keystone prepared earlier when he had first known she was coming to court. + + Kade knotted her hands in her hair until the pain stopped the rise of bile in her throat. + + She opened her eyes. Boliver was standing at the edge of the ring, watching her and scratching his bearded chin. He said, "What happened?" + + "They have him," she said simply. + + His eyes widened a little. After a moment he shuffled his feet, then said, "What are we going to do, then?" + + "Wait here." She scrambled to her feet, touched the power in the ring, and took that step that carried her away. + + The cold embraced her first. Kade had left her coat in the forever-spring of Knockma. She was outside the palace wall, near the Postern Gate where she and Thomas had got in earlier that day. The square with its broken fountain was still empty of life in the gathering dusk, the buildings staring down at her with gaping dark windows. + + Kade stepped out of the newly formed ring in the snow and moved to the gate, and the hair on the back of her neck rose. Cursing, she dug in a pocket for the last of the gascoign powder she had with her and rubbed it into the corners of her eyes. + + The wards rose up from the ground in front of her in a corona of light, stretching up and curving over the wall. He has put the wards back. + + High above, a razor-winged shadow dove out of the clouds, passed unharmed through the corona it could not see, and disappeared among the palace towers. That was a member of the Host. And it went through the wards. Kade raised a hand toward the light and saw the gooseflesh spring up on her arm. And I can't. He turned the wards against me, to let the Host in and keep me out. + + Kade stepped back, and felt the awareness of the wards' hostile presence recede. There was one other way in. She could go through the ring that already existed in the shattered remains of the Grand Gallery. Yes, that way, the trap. + + Kade went back to the snow ring and took the turn that brought her into the Grand Gallery. + + The cold was no less bitter for the shelter of the walls. The huge hall was dark and silent and a wind flung snow through the broken terrace windows. + + A winged fay with blue skin and an angelic human face was sitting in the middle of the floor, picking its toes. It glanced up, saw her, and screamed. + + As it fled the room, Kade lifted a hand to touch the edge of the ring. Just above the surface, she felt the heat of hostile force. The old ward around the ring was tied to the same etheric structure as the wards around the palace. She could not step outside it. + + The floor was piled with chunky broken stone from the foundation, shattered wooden flooring, and dirt. She began to trace the outer edge of the circle, stepping up onto one of the larger pieces of foundation, leaping to the next. It took concentration. A recently formed ring would have hardly any mark on it at all. The Knockma Ring was ancient and well used, but it was a still pool of power. This ring was a whirlpool of conflicting forces, stirred up like a hornet's nest by the Host's recent passage. It had originally been her mother Moire's work and had rested atop the polished wooden floor of the gallery. Dr. Surete had sealed it off with spells long ago, and the pressure of the wards had eventually pushed it down to this level, even with the foundation. + + After some moments Kade heard footsteps. She looked up to see Dontane and Grandier standing in one of the archways. Dontane was leveling a pistol at her. + + She smiled grimly. He fired, the blast reverberating through the room, echoing off the high sculpted ceiling. Kade didn't see the ball until it entered the ring's sphere of influence, where it veered abruptly from its straight course and began to travel the ring's outer circle, orbiting around her like the philosophers claimed the sun orbited the earth. + + Grandier said, "Don't waste your shot." He crossed the room to stand within a few yards of the ring's outer edge, and after a moment Dontane joined him. Kade had already resumed her halting progress around the outer rim. The pistol ball whizzed past her again, starting a breeze that stirred her hair. + + To Grandier, Dontane snapped, "What are you waiting for? Kill her." + + "She isn't here," Grandier said. "She is a breath away from a thousand other places, aren't you?" + + Without interrupting her progress, Kade glanced up at Dontane. "Come and get me." + + He took an impulsive step forward, then hesitated, looking at Grandier. + + Ignoring him, Grandier said seriously, "I don't have to ask what you want here, Kade." + + She had found the ring's pattern now and hoped her slight hesitation at the cardinal point would be put down to reaction to his remark. She said, "I want you dead." + + "He's alive." + + This time the hesitation was unplanned. She had not allowed herself to think Thomas might be dead, but from the sudden suffocating constriction in her chest, some part of her mind had recognized it as a very real possibility. She forced herself to step to the next rock. I shouldn't have come. This was what Grandier wanted, this was why he had not sealed this ring against her. Now he could ask her for anything he wanted, and she would have to give it to him. She thought about fleeing now, but it was too late. She took a deep breath, and continued her progress around the ring. Her head was buzzing, and she was going to have to leave soon to find somewhere private to be sick. + + Dontane was watching his master carefully. + + Grandier said, "I want you to stay out of this, Kade." + + She took another deep breath, but did not look up at him. + + "I know it won't be easy--" + + All the fear and panic inside her crystallized into an icy knot of pure rage. Without betraying her intentions by the flicker of an eyelash, she tapped the fayre power in the ring and released the orbiting pistol ball. Grandier staggered against Dontane, and the ball struck the far wall with a loud crack and a shower of plaster and dust. + + Grandier reached up and touched his right ear, smiling ruefully when his fingers came away lightly spotted with blood. + + Dontane had drawn his second pistol. "She missed you by a hair's breadth," he hissed. + + "On the contrary, she hit exactly what she aimed at," Grandier answered dryly, straightening up with an effort. "And I'll thank you not to toss her any more shot." + + Kade was waiting for him to look at her. When he did, their eyes locked for a long moment. Then Grandier said, "Very well put. I will not patronize you again." + + Dontane swore. "Are you going to let this mad creature get away with that?" + + "Your appraisal wounds me to the heart," Kade said softly, before Grandier could answer. "Believe me, I shall fall down in agony at some more convenient time." + + "She knows my death will not affect the wards that keep her out, or the presence of the Host, or any of the other plans I have set in motion." Grandier was speaking to Dontane, but his eyes went to Kade. "She has no choice but to cooperate." + + There was a keening howl from outside the gallery, and a sudden eddy lifted a scatter of ice crystals from the floor. + + "The Host is coming," Grandier said. "Perhaps you had better go. They will follow you." + + "Will they?" Kade smiled. No choice, her thought echoed. But appearances are everything. + + The Host streamed in through the doorways, the bogles, the grinning mock-human fay, the distorted animals, the hideous inhuman shapes, flying, crawling or running, bringing the stink of death. Dontane wheeled to face them, involuntarily moving closer to Grandier. + + Kade waited until the first were almost to the edge of the ring, then stepped back into Knockma. + + * * * + + Thomas awoke leaning back against the wall, stiff and freezing. The candlelamp on the floor had burned low, a pool of tallow collecting in its base. An iron brazier had been placed in the center of the room and was putting out just enough heat to keep them from freezing to death. He was surprised that he was alive at all. He had remembered that lapsing into sleep with a head injury was often fatal. + + "Are you all right?" Aviler asked, watching him closely. + + His head hurt so badly he didn't think he could move it, but he said, "Whatever gave you the idea I wasn't?" + + Aviler was not fooled by this sally at all. He said, "Do you know where you are? Forgive my persistence, but we've had this conversation before." + + "Oh." Thomas watched the flicker of light over the sculpted ceiling for a moment. He remembered who was dead. "Yes, I know where I am. Unfortunately. How long was I out?" + + Aviler tried to shift his own position and grimaced in discomfort. "Several hours. I believe it may be near morning, but it's difficult to say." + + Near morning of the third day since the attack. Not much time for travelers or refugees to carry word of the disaster. And if Ravenna was dead, what had happened to the rest of the court? Thomas tried not to care, and was surprised to find it impossible. There were Falaise and Gideon, Berham, Phaistus, his other men. If Denzil realized Falaise had betrayed what little she knew of his plans to Thomas, even if she had done it too late to be of any help... + + He saw that Aviler was trying to loosen the heavy iron spike that held his chains to the wall with an air that spoke of several hours' familiarity with the process. Thomas shifted over enough to reach the peg holding him and started to work on it, for all that it felt absolutely immovable. + + Another Bisran War. All the heroes of the last terrible years of war were gone. All the famous names that had passed into folklegend and ballads were the names of the dead. Aviler the Elder had succumbed to illness or possibly poison; the Warrior-Bishop of Portier had been thrown from a horse; Thomas's old captain was killed at duty; Desero, who had been Renier's predecessor as Preceptor of the Albon Knights, retired and passed quietly away in the country; and all the others had been killed in later battles or by the weight of years. For the last year or so there had only been Ravenna, Lucas, and himself, and they had come into the legend only at its triumphant conclusion. Now there was only himself, who had been the youngest of the lot, and who would not live to be executed by Roland for some imagined offense, or to see his skill degenerate from time and old wounds. It was the end of an age. + + Then Thomas heard someone come into the anteroom, heard one of the troopers reply to some question. He glanced at Aviler, who looked grim, and he remembered that Denzil had wanted the High Minister to sign a falsified document of abdication. + + After a moment Dontane appeared in the doorway. He stood there, smiling down at them coldly. Thomas leaned back against the wall, relieved it wasn't Grandier. He couldn't find it in himself to feel anything but contempt for Dontane, for all that he was a sorcerer. After Grandier's example of how far one man could go for revenge, Dontane seemed nothing but a persistent gadfly of a schemer, not unlike the young nobles Denzil had used as cannon fodder in his plans. + + "The Duke of Alsene has much to discuss with you," Dontane said then, and motioned to the soldiers outside. Two entered the room, one standing back with a drawn rapier and the other unlocking Thomas's manacles. + + Thomas made no attempt to stand, letting the trooper jerk him to his feet. That was the only way he would've been able to get there; his leg had stiffened up again. + + They led him out of the makeshift prison and down one flight of stairs into an area heavily guarded by more of the Alsene troops. Men were crowded into the disordered rooms, and every candle and lamp was lit to fight the darkness and the presence of the fay. The fear was palpable. + + Dontane asked suddenly, "What did Grandier say to you?" + + Thomas remembered Dontane's persistence in demanding why Grandier should want him alive when he had first been captured. He had suspected then that Dontane felt his position was insecure. Only a sane reaction, considering how many people Grandier had disposed of to further his goals. Thomas said, "He told us all his grand plans. Do you want to know if they included you?" + + Dontane did not turn to look at him. Thomas sensed he was struggling to control a bitter anger, which was probably directed at Grandier almost as much as it was at him. After a moment Dontane replied, "If Denzil doesn't rid me of you, I'll just have to think of something myself, won't I?" + + Dontane led the way through a suite piled with supplies, to where servants with the Alsene badge waited outside two large double doors. + + Inside was a long low-ceilinged council room, decorated in blue and gold with a long draw table across the back wall. Three men stood with their backs to Thomas, consulting a map spread out on the table. Dontane went to lean against the wall, watching with folded arms, but the troopers stayed to either side of Thomas. The men wore the heavy velvet brocades of nobles, and two were blond. Alsene lords? he wondered. A couple of servants waited by the other door, with a dark-haired boy-page. Then Thomas saw that the man in the center of the group at the table had his left arm in a sling, and he forgot about Dontane and the others. + + Denzil turned to face him, and Thomas said, "Pity I missed." + + "Pity for you," the Duke of Alsene said, smiling as he came forward. "It was a good shot; it shattered the bone, but our fine sorcerer Grandier healed it." Thomas must have shown his disbelief because Denzil added, "Yes, I thought it impossible too, but it seems he's more skilled than most. Quite an advantage for me." + + Quite an advantage. If not for Grandier, Denzil would have died, or lost his arm. One of the other nobles, watching from across the room, grinned and said, "So this is the one who gave you so much trouble, my lord; you didn't tell us--" + + Denzil spun around and snarled, "Shut up!" + + The silence became absolute. Thomas noted he was the only man in the room who hadn't started at the sudden transformation from urbane calm to nearly blind rage. He had always known Denzil was capable of that kind of anger, but that the young Duke had hidden it from his followers came as no surprise. + + Denzil turned back to him, again the cool amused young noble. Smiling, he said, "Relatives are a necessary encumbrance." + + "For now," Thomas agreed. He could see the family resemblance to Denzil in the other two men's features, the cold blue of their eyes. The one who had spoken looked resentful at being publicly chastened; the other was watching the scene with amusement, as if it were a play put on for his enjoyment. If Denzil succeeded, Thomas wouldn't have bet copper on the chances of either of them living out the year. He said, "Did you get Roland?" + + "No." Denzil's eyes were very bright and he was flushed slightly from excitement. Excitement at the power. He was watching Thomas carefully. "Ravenna's dead." + + "I know," Thomas said, able to keep his expression neutral and wondering if Grandier had told him first only to spoil his ally's fun. + + Denzil was too good at this to betray even a flash of irritation. He only shook his head in mild regret. "Grandier again? And I was so looking forward to telling you myself." + + At that moment Thomas knew for certain that Denzil had brought him up here to kill him. He had suspected it as soon as he had walked in, but now it was all there to be read in the younger man's face, the way he carried himself. He said, "You hide your disappointment well." + + "Do you think so?" Denzil drew the main gauche from the sash at his back and touched the point thoughtfully. This wasn't the deadly toy with the serrated edge and extra rods for breaking blades. It was an elegant weapon with a long utilitarian blade and a gold-chased half-shell guard. Thomas watched Denzil's opaque eyes and tried to keep his mind blank. + + Denzil said, "I don't suppose you're surprised by this," and stabbed him in the stomach. + + For the first moment Thomas only felt the force of the blow. It doubled him over, and as the blade pulled free and air reached his sliced flesh, the pain began. A wave of icy cold rose around him, and his legs gave way. He didn't notice that the troopers had let him go until his knees struck the floor. For a moment he supported himself with one hand braced against the wooden planks, the other pressed to his stomach. The blood felt hot against the chill of his skin, and there was so astonishingly little of it at first. He was distantly aware of noise in the room, voices raised, but then his arm gave way and that was all. + + * * * + + Out of the warm darkness of fevered sleep, he heard voices. + + Galen Dubell... No, Grandier said, "I don't have to justify my actions to you." + + "Don't you? You're putting me on a throne, and I'm going to help you get your heart's desire, and you don't think you owe me a few words of explanation?" Denzil said, his tone soft and reasonable. + + "Correct." + + There was silence. Thomas managed to open his eyes. He lay curled on his side on a couch, and a large spot of the heavy damask upholstery was soaked with blood. He knew this because his left hand lay in it. His doublet had been unbuttoned and his shirt pulled aside. It was cold, though not as frigid as the room where he had been imprisoned. His limbs felt too heavy to move, and there was something about the absence of pain that was shocking. + + Grandier's back was to him, and he could see Denzil across the room. + + Denzil's brows had lifted in gentle inquiry, but when Grandier remained politely attentive, he said, "That man is my enemy." + + "That isn't my concern." + + Denzil was ominously still for a moment, though Grandier's reply had been in the same mild voice. He said, "Consider that you would do better not to antagonize me." + + "Perhaps. But I have already antagonized you, it seems, so I see no point in not continuing on my chosen course." + + "Very well. It means nothing then, but..." Denzil shrugged gracefully, only a slight tremor revealing his rage. "Do be more careful in the future." + + Thomas closed his eyes, feeling darkness sweep up over him in a moment of dizziness, but he heard Denzil's steps cross the room and a door close. + + He opened his eyes again and saw Grandier shake his head and turn around. The sorcerer smiled when he saw him awake and said, "Really, the man is driven mad by anyone who fails to succumb to his particular charm. But then, you are aware of this." + + "Intimately." The sarcasm was automatic, and Thomas's voice slow and rusty. He winced at the sound of it. + + Grandier turned away, and Thomas managed to lift himself a little on one elbow. Pain seized him for one sporadic moment, doubled him up, and let him go, leaving him breathless. His fingers found the small web of tight white scar tissue about five inches below his heart. That was all that was left of the puncture wound where the blade had entered, but his body remembered its presence all too well. + + When he looked up, Grandier was watching him with a puzzled frown. "You are fortunate," Grandier said. "He could have injured you in a way less easily remedied." + + Thomas took a deep breath, but the pain didn't return. The stab wound in his arm had stopped its insistent ache as well. He said, "You don't think he knew that?" + + Grandier shook his head. "He was angry because I did not allow you to die." + + "He was angry because you were so calm about it. Before he did it he was very careful to tell me how you healed his arm after I shot him." + + Grandier hesitated a moment, eyes thoughtful, then he said, "A valuable insight." + + He sent Dontane to contact Denzil for him, Thomas thought. That had undoubtedly gone well for Denzil. Might as well send sheep to bargain with wolves. Grandier had crossed the room to a round table that held a number of jars and bottles, probably apothecary powders. He was tightening the stoppers and putting them back into a leather case. Thomas wanted to ask why Grandier wanted him alive, but he suspected he would find that out anyway in a moment or two. He wished the damned Bisran priest who had heard Grandier's confession in prison had asked for more specifics about the shape-changing magic. How a potential victim could escape it, for example. But there was one thing he wanted to know regardless of what happened to him next, and he asked, "How did Ravenna die?" + + Grandier paused, without turning, and said, "Evadne and a band of fay had trapped her in the tower at Bel Garde, and attempted to exchange her for Roland. She fired a powder magazine Denzil had hidden there, killing Evadne and the others. A few fay who had clung to the outside of the tower survived; I had the story from them." + + Firing a powder magazine. God, woman, did you think about what you were doing to yourself? No, probably not, even if she could have considered it as anything other than a means to an end. She would have given her own life the same weight as anyone else's, done her best, and then proceeded on her course with style. Oh, but the bastards must have been surprised. + + When he looked back, Grandier was watching him thoughtfully. "You wondered why I felt the need to show you the Dark Host." + + "Yes." + + "It was not intended as a threat. It was a test." + + A test I failed, Thomas thought suddenly. + + "There was no light in that cellar," Grandier continued. "Or no light visible to mortal eyes. The men with us heard strange cries and laughter, and caught brief glimpses of foul things darting out of a wall of darkness. I could see the Host, as could Dontane, because we have been touched by their power. How was it that you saw them?" + + Coming out of a wall of darkness, like the attack in the Old Hall. Wary, Thomas answered, "If you knew enough to perform the test, then you must already have a theory." + + "She took you to Knockma, didn't she?" + + Thomas watched him, saying nothing. Kade's Fayre kingdom had been like an island of calm reality in the midst of a nightmare. It had been easy to forget that the pact he had made with her there would have an effect in the violent whirlwind of the present. + + Grandier said, "The change is noticeable, to those who know what to look for. Perhaps even to those who don't. But she did more than take you there, I think. She has opened the Otherworld to you." + + "And what does that mean to you?" + + "I could use your help. With the Duke of Alsene, for one example. As you have pointed out, my understanding of the way his mind works is woefully incomplete." Grandier closed the leather case and leaned back against the table. "Ravenna is gone, and Roland is alone. Even if you could free yourself and reach him, he wouldn't listen to you, not about Denzil's involvement. Those who might have organized resistance to the Duke's bid for power are either dead, scattered, or will not learn of it in time." He shrugged. "I agree with you. Denzil is dangerous, unamenable to my influence, and too clever to control. It will be a battle to make him carry out my wishes, at least until I no longer need him. You could help me win that battle." + + Thomas's first impulse was to play for time. He knew what a flat refusal to cooperate might get him, and he wasn't willing to give up yet. He asked, "What about Kade?" + + "She can no longer enter the palace, as I have turned the wards against her, but I spoke to her some time ago through the ring in the Grand Gallery. She is somewhat angry with me." + + "You've tried to kill her at least twice." + + "And was unsuccessful. You helped her in the Old Hall, and she handled my golem herself without much trouble." Grandier smiled a little, almost in pride, as if he'd been the one to teach her and not Dubell. + + And Thomas thought, I wonder if sometimes he thinks he is Galen Dubell... + + But the smile faded and Grandier said slowly, "He would never talk about her. How much he had taught her, what fay powers she had, where she was likely to be... He kept all her secrets, even at the end, when he became confused and told me what I needed to know about the palace wards." + + Thomas thought of Dubell, who had been so trusting despite his occasionally acerbic wit. He had known him only through the faulty mirror of Grandier's imposture. But that imposture had fooled Kade who had known the old man better than anyone, so much of it must have been accurate. He said, "Is that how you do it? Get someone's confidence, earn their trust, learn their secrets, and gradually draw every scrap of information out of them until there's nothing useful left?" + + "Yes, in a way. It is a domination of the personality." + + "You sound like Denzil." + + "Perhaps I do." + + "Don't pretend to delude yourself," Thomas said, too angry to stop the words, to play the game safely. "You're not like Denzil; you're not blinded by self-absorption or maddened by what the Bisran priests did to you, however much you'd like us to think so. You've calmly made the decision to take your revenge this way, and you're aware of exactly how much pain you're causing." + + "Perhaps that is a sin of which we are all guilty. We sane men who participate in insanity for reasons of our own." Grandier was silent for a moment, then he said, "But you are wrong about my intentions. I do not mean to take you as I took Dubell. Your cooperation is more valuable to me than your body, for the moment. I don't suppose you will care to give me an answer yet. But I suggest you come to a decision soon." + + * * * + + Different troopers brought Thomas back to the makeshift cell and replaced his manacles. Aviler was still there, still relatively unhurt, except for the lines of strain and fatigue on his face, briefly visible in the light of the guard's lamp. + + When they had gone, Aviler asked, "What happened?" + + Thomas leaned back against the wall. On the walk back, he had discovered that the only wound that hadn't yielded to Grandier's unwanted healing had been the hole the elf-shot had left in his leg. He said, "I was offered a place in Grandier's glorious revolution." + + Aviler considered that, then asked softly, "And where did all the blood come from?" + + "Denzil stabbed me, and Grandier took care of the damage. Denzil intends to repeat the performance later. I could see him thinking it." Thomas looked away, glad of the darkness in the cold little room. He hadn't meant to say quite that much. + + Aviler was silent for a time. Thomas wondered if he was thinking about the document he was supposed to sign. Then Aviler said, "An interesting demonstration of the consequences of refusal. What answer did you give Grandier?" + + "I didn't give him any answer. It's called stalling for time." + + "I see." + + * * * + + Kade sat down hard on Knockma's thick grass. She hoped the entire Host had flung itself into the ring after her, but she knew better than that. She had connected one cardinal point of the ring to the other, and any of the fay who followed her into it would find themselves caught in the ring's maelstrom, flung around and around until the connection broke, which it would do fairly soon. Rings were difficult to tamper with at best, and always sought to return to their original state. + + Boliver was still waiting for her. He had settled on the grass outside the circle of menhirs and was smoking a white clay pipe. "No more than an hour," he said, answering her unspoken question. "Did you discover anything useful?" + + Kade stood and stepped out of the ring so she could think without it singing in her ears. "Yes, but I made a mistake. I shouldn't have gone." She sat beside him and put her head in her hands. "Grandier was waiting for me. He knows that I-- He told me Thomas is alive, and that I am to stay out of the way." She felt her mouth twist into a sneer. "He knows it will be difficult for me." + + "Yes, you made a grand cock-up," Boliver agreed. + + She rubber her eyes and said sourly, "Your confidence in me is overwhelming." + + Boliver sighed. "Is your Thomas that important to you, then? Has he said anything of the kind to you?" + + She looked up and saw he was watching her gravely. She stilled the quick flare of anger. "Yes, he is important to me. And if he's dead I'll never know what he thinks about me." And I wouldn't care if he hated me as long as I knew he was alive somewhere... + + "Then stop rushing about like a daft-headed chicken and do something," Boliver said suddenly, scattering her thoughts. + + "I am not rushing about like a daft-headed anything," she said through gritted teeth. + + He pointed the pipe at her. "Oh, you're not weeping or fainting, but you're running about in circles, letting this damned human wizard point you any way he wants you." + + "I am not--" + + "By Puck's pointed ears, woman, you're the Queen of Air and Darkness. Act like it!" + + Kade was on her feet and Boliver was scrambling for cover when it occurred to her that Thomas had said much the same thing to her. He had said it on that cool rainy night on the loggia, when they had listened to Denzil twist Roland's friendship into slavery. + + She supposed she should feel like dying. What she felt was a cold numbness centering around her heart, as if she were already dead. Kade turned away and started to cross the field toward the castle. Reaching the edge of the garden, she climbed the steps and entered her turret workroom. She stood for a moment in the quiet with the sweet smell of herbs and flowers. Then she saw that the bowl on the table was glowing softly. It was the spell she had tried to make to reveal the location of the keystone. She had forgotten it. + + Holding her breath, Kade went to the table. The water at the bottom of the bowl had formed an image: a hazy translucent image of a room. And she recognized the room. + + "Gods above and below take that canny old bastard," she whispered, almost reverently. "It was there all the time." + + Then she had an idea. + + Chapter Seventeen + + THE SUN WAS shining here, too. + + Kade and Boliver stood in an open court, bordered on all sides by a low wall and a sheer drop to the sea. The wide blue vault of the sky stretched over them, and the stiff breeze had the tang of salt and dead fish. Kade went to the edge of the ring, which resisted her for a moment before she stepped free of it. The power swelling it had almost the same force as the Knockma Ring, but it was far more turbulent. But then, this ring saw a great deal more use. + + She went to the wall and looked down. They were atop a pillar of rock that stood a hundred yards or so above the sea that tore at its base. Leaning out, she could see the stairs that climbed it, leading up from a bare stone dock, and the stern of the fantastically painted ship that was moored there. + + On the opposite side of the court, two identical fay with golden skin, red-pupiled eyes, and long amber hair guarded an archway twined with carved oak leaves leading to a narrow delicate bridge. It led from their pillar over the channel of gray-green churning water to the cliff tops of a rocky section of coast. A massive structure grew out of the end of the bridge, with heavy octagonal towers the warm brown of sandstone from the faraway deserts of Parscia. Squinting at it in the afternoon sunlight, Kade saw that light glittered off it at regular points, as if it were adorned with a pattern of jewels, or small round windows. She looked back at Boliver, who was watching the bridge guards warily and cleaning out his pipe onto the immaculate flagstones. "This is the place." + + She went up to the guards, who were dressed in cloth of gold and glittering gems and armed with slender swords of silver. They were both watching Kade and Boliver with disinterested amusement, and one said, "Your name and your errand, fair lady, before you pass." + + The words "fair lady" had no doubt been applied facetiously. She answered, "I'm Kade Carrion, the Queen of Air and Darkness, and I'm here to see Oberon." + + The two exchanged an opaque glance that might have concealed more amusement, or surprise, and the other said, "Then pass gladly, lady." + + She walked down the bridge, Boliver padding behind her. Ahead they could see two large wooden doors surrounded by stonework carved into waves and bubbling seafoam. Closer, and the sun brought out the faint tint of rose in the brown stone; closer still, and she saw that the small round windows that studded the tower were not windows but eyes, with dark iris and blue pupil, and that some were watching them, others staring off to sea. + + Boliver stage-whispered, "We're being watched!" + + Kade ignored him. + + Another fay guard, identical to the two at the bridge except for the graceful amber-glazed wings on his back, pulled open one of the heavy doors for them. + + Inside was a high stone gallery, floored with white tile, airy and cool. They went down it and into the perfect silence of the place. Corridors branched off at intervals, but they might have been the only living creatures inside. + + Thinking over what she had to do--what she was forced to do--Kade was conscious of a curious numbness that might be shock. She was beginning to recognize it as the feeling of anger taken to such a level it was no longer possible to separate it from any other emotion or thought. In a way, it was a liberating sensation. The attitude of the fay guards, or what she suspected was their attitude, would have bothered her very much under any other circumstances; now it seemed the most minor of considerations. Anger this intense defined everything into the goal, and the obstacles that must be overcome to reach the goal, and it would make it very easy to make the decisions to dispose of those obstacles. + + It was probably quite close to how Urbain Grandier felt when the Bisran Inquisition had finished with him. + + As they neared the end of the hall, they could hear a thread of harp music, and voices and laughter. + + "We're going to be roasted," Boliver said, with gloomy relish. "And eaten." + + "Stop sniveling," Kade muttered. Boliver had driven her out of her despair with arguments that she should do something constructive; now that she had embarked on a plan, he was arguing against it. Typical fay perversity. + + The hall made an abrupt turn, and stairs spilled down into a large roofless court that must be at or near the center of the fortress. More of the amber-skinned guards lined the porticoes, lazy but watchful, armed with gold-bladed pikes. + + Most of the Seelie Court was gathered here. + + Lake maidens dripped water and glamour from their gowns like pearls. Beautiful ladies wore clothes of flowers, gossamer spangled with dew, silvery gauze, or were covered only by their long hair. There were men of the same ethereal beauty as the guards, in velvets, fine lace, and gold-shot brocade. Here and there a wing as delicate as a butterfly's and more beautifully hued rose above the crowd. The bright sunlight in the open court made so much glamour the air glowed, and a troupe of gaily dressed fay tumblers performed feats impossible for humans. Most of those here were shape-changers. + + Kade went down the steps and through the crowd. + + They parted for her. There was no stink of unwashed flesh under the perfumes, as there would be in any human gathering. Her faded and dirty smock, her dragging petticoat lace, her page boy's boots, were violently out of place here, and she caught many sidelong glances. She could have used glamour to make herself more pleasing to the eye; several here had done so. But she didn't need to be told that that would have been a mistake. + + Titania lay on a leopard-skin couch under a canopy of ostrich feathers, cool shade under the bright light. A small woman, smaller than Kade, the fayre queen wore a mantua heavily laden with pearls and silver embroidery, and her hair was the color of gold, true gold, and her features were much more beautiful than even Queen Falaise's. But Falaise's face had been touched by fear, worry, and care, and Titania's was as perfect as a carved goddess's; Kade suddenly preferred Falaise, for all that lady's wavering will. + + Two fay pages with the appearance of fair young boys waited on the fayre queen, one holding a wine carafe, the other her fan. They watched Kade with matched expressions of sly mockery. But seated at her feet was a human boy with skin the color of chocolate and dark curly hair, whose gaze remained locked on the tumblers. + + Kade did not curtsey to Titania. She was a queen here in her own right. + + Titania's shrewd sapphire eyes considered her. She held a silver wine goblet beaded with moisture, and ran a thoughtful finger over the rim. "Oberon is not here, my sister." Her voice was like harp strings stirred by the wind. + + "But you are." A few days ago Kade would have replied I am not your sister, but she couldn't afford to be driven now. + + Titania laughed. "And what have you come for?" + + "A favor." Kade looked down at the human boy, and when his brown eyes met hers curiously, she asked him, "Do you want to go home?" + + There was an almost soundless gasp from the assembled fay, the music ceasing and the tumblers staggering to a halt. + + The boy smiled and shook his head. "No, lady," he said into the silence. His voice was a little husky, but still a child's. + + Kade looked back at Titania, who smiled. "I love him," the queen of fayre said. + + "The sad thing is," Kade found herself replying, "you probably do." + + Titania shook her golden head in irritation and set the goblet down on a low jade table. "You always ruin our pastimes, Kade." + + "Good." Kade paced a few idle steps away from the bower, to avoid showing her rabid impatience, to keep Titania from knowing how every passing moment grated. She saw the smaller sprites at the edge of the crowd back hastily away. She was hardly surprised; she probably looked like she should be standing over a battlefield piled with corpses with a raven on one shoulder. She had been right not to try to put on a pleasing appearance with glamour; that would have been catering to their whims. She looked like herself, fey and eldritch even in this company. + + Watching her with perfect brows lifted archly, Titania said, "I only tolerate your interference because of my affection for your mother." + + Words, no sentiment. Copied from some human. Kade smiled at her feet. She couldn't think why she had ever feared Moire, or Titania, when she had spent much of her early life sparring with Ravenna, who could have effortlessly handled both fay queens were she blind, deaf, and lame. Kade said, "I am the Queen of Air and Darkness." + + Titania accepted a fan from her page and drew the delicate ivory construction through her fingers. "You do not know what that means." + + "Someday I'll find out." Kade looked up and smiled. "And here you will be." + + "And what must I do about that?" + + "Make me happy." + + Titania laughed again, this time in genuine amusement. Or at least genuine for her. She waved the two fay pages away, but let the human boy remain. "What do you want?" + + Kade sensed the crowd behind her begin to relax. The clear note of a harp sounded, and the jugglers began to perform again. The boy's eyes strayed in their direction. Boliver was around somewhere; she could smell his pipe. "The first, the power to shape-change." + + "Ah." Titania must know every movement of the Unseelie Court, and she did not ask why. "Best tell me what else you want, for I cannot give you that." + + "You mean, you won't give me that." + + Titania's perfect brow creased in annoyance. "Words. I am not a fool; I can't hand you that much power." + + Kade knew it would come to this. "What if I were to offer you a power in return?" + + Titania shook her head, consideringly. "You are very desperate." + + "Yes. And I am very dangerous, when I am very desperate." That was as close to a threat as she wanted to come. Threats she did not have time to make good on. Kade was at a severe disadvantage and knew it. All she had was bluff and Titania's greed. + + "What would you offer?" + + Kade felt as if she were about to step off a precipice. After this, there was no going back. She took a deep breath, and jumped. "Knockma." Somewhere in the crowd, she heard a thump: Boliver hitting the floor. He had known what she meant to do, but his sense of the dramatic had gotten the better of him. + + Titania stared, honestly shocked. Kade waited, forcing herself to smile lightly. Then Titania shook her head, her expression of honest consternation making her look more human, and, Kade thought, more beautiful. "I cannot do it, not even for so great a prize. I cannot give you that much power." + + Kade sighed. I know. If I were you I wouldn't do it either. But I was hoping you'd be too blinded by greed to care. So forget the first plan and try the second. With Knockma dangling before her like a diamond in the sun, Titania would break down eventually. "We can bargain." + + Titania tapped her fan on the fur couch, watching her. "Bargain. Very well. But why are you doing this?" + + Kade smiled and met Titania's eyes. "For love." The queen of fayre looked frankly disbelieving, but the human boy grinned up at Kade. + + * * * + + Kade met an anxious Boliver at the portico above the court. "How went it?" he asked, nervously hopping from foot to foot. + + "Not as good as I hoped; not as bad as I feared." Out of her pocket, she drew one of the concessions she had wrested from the fayre queen. It looked like a well-crafted glass ball, only a few bubbles marring its perfection. Boliver peered at it closely, and she turned it in the light to show the lines of fire glowing ghostlike within. "It will turn a shape-changed being back to its original form." She pocketed the powerful little construction carefully, and they started up the hall toward the entrance. + + "Is that all? What will you if it doesn't do its work?" + + "What will I? I'll die, that's what will I. Gods below, Boliver, don't ask me these questions at a time like this." Kade had hoped to get the power to shape-change at will from Titania, hoped to get it without having to kill people right and left as Grandier did, but the fayre queen had refused her and she would just have to do it the hard way. It's the only way to get anything done lately. + + "I'm sorry, lass. But one transformation is not much. And you'll need that to get in. You'll be going against all the Host." + + "Yes." She hated to lose Knockma, but it was a tie to the past, to her mother, and to the Seelie Court and all their wrangling. And if the Host did cross into Knockma, she would never be able to defend it and find Thomas at the same time. Titania would defend it now, with every resource at her disposal, and the Unseelie Court would never have it. + + It was also the only home she had ever had. Besides the palace, and that had been taken away. But Knockma had not been taken away, she had given it up, and the difference was important. + + And if it would help her destroy Grandier and Denzil, then it was well given. + + Kade put a hand in her pocket to touch the glass ball. No, losing Knockma she could live through. It was the next part she had doubts about. + + * * * + + Thomas had worked steadily at loosening the spike in the wall and was rewarded by feeling it begin to shift a trifle. If it wasn't his imagination; his hands were numb with cold. "Any luck?" he asked Aviler. + + "No." Aviler left off his own efforts and leaned back against the wall. "I think you should accept Grandier's offer." + + Thomas kept working on the spike, without answering. He supposed he should be flattered that Aviler had not automatically assumed that he would leap at any way out. + + If he did... Grandier would not let him interfere with his plans to start a war. And once that war was started, Thomas would have no choice but to do his best to help win it. Grandier was well aware that Thomas would not be a willing participant, and Grandier had a talent for influencing people, working his way into their thoughts, bringing them unwillingly over to his side. It was how he wrested the needed information out of his victims before he killed them and took their shapes. There was the possibility that after a year or two of helping Grandier, Thomas would find that he no longer wanted to oppose him. + + And then there was Denzil. + + Movement out in the anteroom jolted Thomas out of his thoughts. Aviler looked up, puzzled, and they both listened. It sounded as if the troopers who were guarding them were gathering their weapons and leaving. After a long moment of silence, there was a faint shuffling sound from outside the door, and a low deep snarl. + + Dontane had said he would have to think of something else. Aviler swore softly, looking around hopelessly for something to use as a weapon. Thomas gathered himself to move, watching the lighted doorway. + + A fay appeared in the doorway, the torchlight gleaming from its jaundiced yellow skin. It was perhaps five feet tall, human shaped but with clawed hands and long powerful arms dangling almost to its knees. Its mouth had a wide evil grin revealing far too many sharply pointed teeth, its face distorted by round red eyes and a nose that was an ugly ragged hole. + + It sprang at Thomas too quick for thought. He threw himself sideways as far as the chains would allow, flinging up an arm to shield his face. He felt the hard grip on his wrist, the claws tear through the leather of his sleeve, a pressure that nearly tore his arm from the socket. Then its hand came in contact with the iron manacle around his wrist and it shrieked and leapt away. + + He rolled over and looked back. The fay staggered, keening in rage, its hand dripping burned flesh, the stink of it filling the room. Thomas's shoulder felt dislocated but as he tried to push himself up he realized the chains had far more slack now. The spike holding them to the wall had been pulled half out by the force of the fay's grip. + + The creature turned on Aviler, snarling, and he scrambled back against the wall, swinging a loop of his chains at it. Thomas stretched and hooked the brazier with his boot-heel, bringing it closer with a frantic kick and grabbing the handle. He flung the brazier at the fay's back just as it leapt again at Aviler. + + The iron struck the fay and it staggered. + + Thomas got to his feet and leaned his whole weight on the chain in one solid jerk. With a spray of wood chips and plaster, the spike came out of the wall. + + He grabbed the spike just as the fay reached him again. Its claws sank into his shoulder and it hauled him up and almost off his feet before it felt the tip of the iron in its chest. It tried to shove him away, its other hand finding his throat. With instinct greater than sense, he grabbed its arm and fell against it, driving the iron spike through its thick skin. It fell backward, dragging him down. From the blood on his hands he knew he must have given it a killing blow, but it still had the strength to snap his neck. + + Then Thomas fell against the wooden floor. The fay had vanished. He tried to sit up, looking around, braced for it to appear somewhere else. Then he saw the heavy gray dust that covered the floor, the spike, his hands, and that even the creature's blood had disappeared. It had vanished, but in death, dissolving into dust. + + His buff coat had protected his shoulder, but his neck was covered with shallow scratches from its claws; he was lucky it hadn't managed to tear his throat out. Aviler started to speak and Thomas shook his head hastily. Dontane would not have sent all the guards away, only those not bribed to silence. + + After another moment, Thomas managed to stand. He gathered the chains up and quietly moved along the wall to the door and stood beside it, waiting tensely. Without having to be told, Aviler slumped against the wall, trying to look like a corpse. In the dim light, and for a few moments only, it would fool someone; Thomas would not have long to move. Moments crept by, and Thomas thought impatiently, You can't sit out there forever; you have to see what happened. Come on, damn you. There had to be at least one man out there, to make sure that the fay had done its work. The difficulty was that the one last guard didn't have to sit out there forever, only until Dontane returned with reinforcements. + + Then Thomas heard a low scuffling in the anteroom, someone cautiously approaching the door. He flattened back against the wall and stopped breathing. The swordpoint came first, and there was a hesitation; the trooper had seen the spilled and battered brazier, and Aviler's apparently lifeless form. He stepped inside, and Thomas slipped the loop of chain around his neck. + + The trooper made the mistake of dropping his sword to grab onto the chain. He staggered forward, trying to slam Thomas against the wall. Thomas held on grimly, feeling the strain in his shoulder. The man fell to his knees abruptly, dragging Thomas with him. He felt something give way under the chain and the trooper collapsed. Thomas held on long enough to make sure the man was dead, then glanced back to check the anteroom. It was empty and the fire was guttering in the hearth. + + He searched the trooper's corpse thoroughly and savagely, keeping one eye on the door. Besides the rapier, the trooper had a main gauche with a half-shell guard and a small dagger. He would be armed again at least. After more searching he angrily shoved the body away. "It would be the one without the goddamn keys." + + "What now?" Aviler asked, grimacing. + + Thomas took the trooper's narrow-bladed dagger and began working at the lock of his manacle. It's been a long time since I've done this, he thought. After a long tense wait, the manacle gave and he shook it off and started on the other. + + The chains holding Aviler were of slightly different make and took longer to open. After Thomas had worked over the first one for some time unsuccessfully, Aviler said grimly, "It's not working. Get out of here before they come back." + + "I," Thomas said through gritted teeth, "do not have time for theatrics." + + Aviler stiffened, but didn't voice any more objections. + + The manacles came free finally, and Aviler got to his feet in relief. + + Thomas slipped the plain leather baldric of the trooper's rapier over his head and handed Aviler the main gauche. They passed through the anteroom quickly, hesitating only to make sure the troopers had left behind no other weapons. + + As Thomas stepped out the doorway onto the landing, he knew he had made a mistake. He heard Aviler gasp an incoherent warning and Thomas dove forward, rolling. This didn't help any of his various bruises and when he came to his feet, he staggered. But Aviler was struggling with the trooper who had waited for them beside the door, and as Thomas reached them, Aviler managed to plunge the main gauche up into the other man's rib cage. The soldier collapsed with a choked-off gasp and Thomas and Aviler rolled the body back into the anteroom. Breathing hard, Aviler explained, "He moved just as you went out and I saw him. Was he there all along?" + + "No, he could have easily taken me when I was strangling the other one. Probably came looking for him when he didn't come back for the others." Thomas cast a look back to check the landing, which stretched quietly into darkness in either direction, doorways leading off it and the staircase opening directly in front of them. + + Aviler stripped off the soldier's baldric and tossed the extra main gauche to Thomas. The High Minister slung the baldric over his shoulder and picked up the trooper's fallen rapier. Something that jingled as it hit the floor fell from the trooper's baldric and Aviler nudged it with a boot. "This was the one with the keys," he said, with an ironic lift of an eyebrow. + + Thomas snorted. "My luck." + + They stepped out onto the landing. Hesitating a moment to get his bearings, Thomas saw the bob of lamplight on the stair below. "This way," he said, and led Aviler down to another doorway. It opened onto a progression of rooms that, if Thomas was where he thought he was, would eventually give onto another staircase. The rooms were as dark as the pit, but they had been meant to be viewed as a set, so the doors were all in the same position on the left-hand side of the hearths and were unblocked by furniture, making it relatively easy to cross them even in almost complete darkness. They had made it through the third room when they heard a shout of alarm and running footsteps from the landing. + + They stopped to listen, but no one came in their direction. Aviler whispered, "I don't suppose they're going to think that thing ate both of us, killed the two guards, then wandered off." + + Thomas smiled grimly. "They could try to tell Denzil that, but I don't think it would be very well received." + + They came to the last room, and through its open door, Thomas could see the landing of the other stairwell, lit wanly by one candle in the silver and rock-crystal chandelier hanging above it. Across the threshold was the body of a young woman, the gray and brown of her skirts marking her as a servant. Thomas stepped over her without bothering to pause. He was growing used to seeing dead women and had stopped looking for familiar faces; since it was likely he would be killed at any moment himself, it hardly seemed to matter. After a moment he heard Aviler follow him. + + Just as they came out onto the landing, the muffled explosion of a pistol shot destroyed the silence. They both instinctively dove for the stairs. They reached the landing below and cut through another dark suite back the way they had come. The first room was unlit and crowded with dark shapes of furniture. Soldiers were pounding down the stair behind them and Thomas could not find the doorway. He stumbled on a low table, then turned and put his back against the wall. The men coming after them would have oil lamps, and the light would be momentarily blinding. Then there was a muffled thump and Aviler gasped in pain, then said harshly, "Over here, a door." + + Thomas made his way toward Aviler's voice and found the edge of a narrow door. Aviler whispered, "It's a servants' stair." He climbed down a few steps, and Thomas stepped inside, closing the door after them. + + In the unfamiliar room, it was doubtful the Alsene troopers would find the stair, which had a door meant to blend into the paneling, but Thomas didn't breathe easily until he heard them clatter through the room, cursing and knocking things over, then retreat. After some moments of silence he said lightly, "I won't comment on your clumsiness since it saved our lives." + + "Someone else wasn't so lucky," Aviler replied out of the dark. "There's a body down here." + + Yes, there would be fay roaming here. This is not going to get any easier, Thomas thought, straightening up and feeling for the wall to guide him down. + + "He didn't come down here without a lamp," Aviler was muttering. Before Thomas could point out that he might very well have, Aviler said, "Yes, here it is." + + After more fumbling, Aviler found the man's tinderbox and managed to light the lamp. "Good God," he said softly, standing up and looking down in disgust at the corpse the wan light revealed. "What could have done that to his head... No, don't speculate; I'd rather be surprised." + + They heard footsteps in the rooms overhead and voices from below, and moved a few steps down the narrow stairs. But the door with its heavy covering of carved paneling and flocked paper cut much of the noise from outside. + + Aviler looked around, lifting the lamp high. The original stone of the wall was to one side, radiating cold like a block of ice, and the wooden bones of the lath and plaster facing to the other. The air was stuffy and thick with dust. This was technically a servants' passage, though it had probably been installed more with an eye to moving about quickly and unobtrusively in the event of a palace coup. The years before the reign of Ravenna's father had not been calm or untroubled. + + "We're on the west side of the Old Palace," Aviler said quietly. "We could get out through the siege wall into the Old Courts..." + + Thomas sheathed the rapier and drew the shorter main gauche, which would be more effective in these close surroundings. "If we can get there. The King's Bastion is probably still sealed off from the other side. Most of the troops are quartered right below us." He took a soft step down the narrow stairs, careful of the creaking boards that would betray their presence. + + The bogle dropped from above. It landed on Aviler, knocking him forward. He dropped the candlelamp and the flame guttered wildly, threatening to leave them in darkness. Aviler stumbled into Thomas, who caught himself against the wall. He turned, getting a grip on the thing's greasy skin below its neck and dragging it off the other man. It turned on him more swiftly than a cat, claws flailing, and he stabbed it with the main gauche. It dropped and he saw that Aviler had gotten it from behind with their late guard's dagger. It struggled wildly on the steps, its claws scrabbling on the wood, a random swipe of one long arm sending Thomas staggering back into the wall. Then it froze into immobility. + + They stared at one another, breathing hard, then Aviler wiped the blood from the scratches on his forehead. He said softly, "That was rather a noisy episode. Do you think anyone heard?" + + After listening for a moment, Thomas shook his head. "No, they'd be hacking through the wall by now." He leaned back against the stone, considering their options. They would have to make for one of the rooms along the outside wall. And they could go no lower than this floor: the levels below had no windows. And what was Kade doing now? That she was planning something he had no doubt. Fortunately Grandier would have as little chance to guess what it was as he had. Kade made her strategy on the run, which was poor planning in a chess game, but in real life tended to make opponents waste time bumbling around wondering what in hell she was thinking. The only problem was her inclination to the dramatic. Would Grandier consider that? + + He looked up to find Aviler watching him narrowly. At his look of inquiry Aviler said, "You haven't yet pointed out that I was wrong about Denzil and you were right." + + Thomas said dryly, "I thought the consequences so obvious that calling further attention to it was unnecessary." + + Aviler snorted and shook his head. "Even though you've saved my life, I can't seem to bring myself to like you." + + "That's probably just as well." Thomas was thinking of ways to rooms with outside windows, and that the nearest could only be reached by using this wall passage to travel directly through the part of the palace Denzil had made his stronghold. And why not? They won't be searching for us there. And there's less chance of running into more fay. There was also another possibility in that direction to be explored. "Did you know about the spyhole near the third-floor council chambers?" + + Aviler's eyes widened. "No, I did not." + + "Denzil doesn't either. When Dontane took me to those chambers, they had their maps laid out, so it must be where they plan their troop movements at the very least." + + He could tell the notion appealed to Aviler. "You think it would be worth it, for what we might hear?" + + "Perhaps not, but it is on our way." + + * * * + + There were voices coming from the direction of the faint glow of light. "Why you?" + + It's my plan, Thomas started to say. Instead, he put a properly sardonic note in his voice and said, "Another noble impulse? You're the only one who has a chance of convincing Roland of any of this; don't you consider that a little more important than your pride?" + + They were crouching in the narrow darkened wall passage, beside a gap in the baseboard just large enough for an agile spy. But someone had been through this servants' passage at some point strewing the floor with iron filings, so they couldn't afford to waste time here. The hole in the baseboard had an extra helping of iron sprinkled around it, but there was no sign that its real purpose had been discovered. + + Aviler glared, and gestured reluctantly. "All right, damn you." As Thomas bent to scramble under the lintel, Aviler added, "Eventually that little tactic is going to fail, then what will you do?" + + Thomas grinned to himself. "Hit you over the head." + + From inside the cramped spyhole, he could see the gap carefully cut into the planks below the wall, leading into a narrow crawl space below the first council room. They were there, right enough. He recognized Dontane's voice, but it was impossible to distinguish individual words. He would have to try to get over to the next room. + + The crawl space was perhaps two feet high, the bottom made of planks supported by the thick wooden rafters of the room below, lit by soft candlelight finding its way through the cracks in the floorboards above. On the far side, where the wall of the second council room had been erected, another hole had been torn in the baseboards, allowing access to the crawl space below the next room. That was where the voices were coming from. Well, it would be, Thomas thought. He sat back, pulling off and laying aside the baldric and rapier, which would be far more trouble than it was worth in the narrow space. He hesitated over the main gauche, which would be equally unhandy at his back where it could catch on things or in the front of his sash poking him determinedly in the stomach. He settled for wedging it down into his boot, though he knew if he encountered anything more hostile than a rat, he was a dead man. + + He worked his way slowly across the crawl space, trying to keep from choking on the dust, gasping in pain when his bruised ribs encountered the sharp corners of a rafter. + + About halfway across, something sharp bit through the leather of his glove and he jerked his hand back. It was only a nail loose on the planks. Then he took a closer look and saw the boards of the crawl space were sprinkled with them. They must have fallen down through the cracks from above. Denzil did not trust his fay allies at all. + + Thomas edged closer to the gap. The voices were distinctly louder here. And louder. Damn them, he thought; they're coming in here. There was no time to move as a door squeaked open nearly overhead. He froze as heavy footsteps sounded on the floorboards of the room above and Denzil's voice said, "God, you're such a fool." + + "I didn't have to tell you," Dontane replied, his tone surly. + + You prick, you've been so splendidly stupid, why did you have to ruin it by thinking? Thomas had counted on Dontane being fool enough to try to hide their escape from Denzil as well as from Grandier. + + "You did if you wanted to live. You idiot, I would have gotten rid of him in time." Footsteps paced overhead, a long winter cloak brushed the floor. Thomas winced as Denzil came to stand by a dark area that must be a cabinet or other large piece of furniture, the Duke's boots almost directly over his hiding place. He was cramped and his shoulders were aching, but he dared not shift his position. + + "They can't escape," Dontane protested. + + "Of course they can. Boniface knows the palace very well; he's been spying on everyone in it for years." + + "I'm not a fool, damn you, I was--" + + "It doesn't matter, not at this point." There was a hesitation, then Denzil asked softly, "What position do you want when I take the throne? Court Sorcerer?" + + Ah. I should have known Denzil would contrive to sell everyone to everyone else, Thomas thought. He's lured Dontane away from Grandier, that was why our mercenary friend was so afraid. + + "Will the nobles accept me?" Dontane spoke slowly, diverted by visions of the future. + + "They will if I order it." + + They might at that. Anything to keep Denzil away from home and family. + + The door opened again, and a young man's voice, shy with hero worship said, "My lord, there's a message." + + "Thank you." Denzil's voice warmed, probably out of habit. He would keep no one close to him who was not his absolute slave. How it must gall him that Grandier remained his own man. Dontane had probably been an easy conquest. + + Paper crackled, then with a smile in his voice, Denzil said, "Villon has reached Bel Garde." + + Thomas caught his breath. + + "No." Dontane sounded horror-stricken. "The cavalry--" + + "The siege engine cavalry," Denzil corrected gently. + + "How could he get here so quickly?" + + "If the messages went to the Granges yesterday, if Villon left his Train of Ordnance behind and traveled through the night, it could be done easily." + + "Without Grandier's help I couldn't possibly hold him off." + + "Yes, if Evadne hadn't failed I'd have Roland by now." Denzil was silent for a moment, possibly calculating the time as Thomas was. It would have been impossible to conceal the cavalry's movement up the plain to Bel Garde; they would have been spotted easily from the city wall. But it would have taken time to send the message through the dangerous snow-choked streets. And Villon was a cautious general, preferring maneuver and siegecraft to pitched battle. He had taken Bel Garde as a base from which to stage his attack. + + Denzil said, "It's unfortunate. If I can't keep Bisra from attacking us in what they will perceive as our weakness, Lord General Villon would be useful. But he won't deal with me. I hope he has more amenable officers. You'll have to send the Host against him." + + "Grandier won't allow it. He's counting on Villon to help lead the attack against Bisra." + + "And counting on me to convince Villon to support my claim to the throne. But I can't... I won't do that. He is an old friend of Ravenna's, you see." + + Denzil was not going to allow a war with Bisra. He wouldn't want a kingdom locked in struggle, war torn and poor. And he really didn't need a war to put him on the throne; he only needed the threat of it. He's going to hold Bisra off somehow. If he can. If he gets past Grandier, Thomas thought. + + "I want you to speak to your friends in the Host and persuade them to attack Villon tonight," Denzil said. + + "I'll go now, but--" + + "Don't go now; wait until dusk. I don't want Grandier to learn of it. We can scarcely ask him to arrange the cloud cover for us, so they will have to wait until dark anyway." Footsteps crossed the floor to pause near Dontane. "Take care. Everything depends on you." + + Does it? Thomas thought. Does it really? + + He heard them move toward the door. As soon as it closed he rolled away from his painful position over the rafter and began to work his way back toward the hole in the baseboard, half-formed plans turning in his head. He had almost reached it when there was the thump of a chair pushed aside, hurried steps crossed the floor, and the door banged open. + + Thomas swore and scrambled through the opening into the spyhole. Dontane and Denzil had departed, but he had never heard the messenger boy leave. He grabbed up his sword and baldric and ducked under the lintel back into the passage. + + "Well?" Aviler demanded. + + "Move. Someone heard me." + + They made their way through the twists and turns of the passage and up a narrow flight of rickety stairs. "Villon's reached Bel Garde," Thomas said. + + "Thank God. The court got through." + + "It's not over yet. Denzil's sending the Host against him tonight--despite Grandier's orders to the contrary. Villon will have to be warned." + + They came to a door with a thin line of chill daylight leaking under it. Thomas listened at it, then carefully prized it open. The room outside was a long formal dining room lit by slanting gray morning sunlight from tall windows opening onto a portico. It was undisturbed except for a little snow that had blown in through a window left carelessly open; the scene had the strange still quality of a painting. + + Thomas crossed the room and opened the window further, stepping out onto the portico. The tiled floor was heavily laden with ice, and he held carefully to the light railing and looked out on a view of the garden courts and the siege wall, the bastion rising up beyond. To the north was the open land of the park, and cut off from sight by the side of the Gallery Wing would be the Postern Gate. The ground was two stories down from the bottom of the portico. He stepped back through the window to lift a heavy velvet drapery cord. "Think you could make it?" + + Aviler nodded. "Of course." + + They started to tear down the drapes, pulling loose the cords and discarding the ones that had gotten wet from the open window and had stiffened with ice. + + Aviler tied off a section and tested it, then said, "We can secure it to the table. It's heavy enough to support a dozen men, so--" + + "It won't have to. Just you. I'm staying here." + + Aviler frowned at him. "What do you mean?" + + Thomas tied off two cords and reached for another. "There's barely enough time for you to make it across the city to Bel Garde by nightfall on a good day. I'm going to try to stop them here." + + Aviler looked incredulous. "How?" + + "I don't know," Thomas snapped. He didn't want to give Aviler the chance to talk him out of this. He controlled himself with effort and said more calmly, "Apparently Dontane's the only one who can talk to the Host besides Grandier. If I can stop him--" + + "That would help immeasurably, of course, but Villon is hardly going to be unprepared for an attack by night. That he's here now means he knows what's happened. He will realize the danger." + + "And with Ravenna dead you're the only one who knows for certain that Denzil is a danger. Even if the attack on Villon fails, all Denzil has to do is ride up to Bel Garde tomorrow and ask to speak to Roland alone." + + Aviler hesitated. Thomas could see him turning over that image and not liking what he saw. But Aviler shook his head. "Outright assassination would hardly serve his purpose--" + + "It wouldn't have to be that. But it's hardly politic to allow the man who's near destroyed a city so he can usurp the throne unlimited access to the King." + + "All right, all right." Aviler shook his head impatiently. "I'll go on. But I think you're only going to succeed in killing yourself." + + "Probably," Thomas admitted. + + They finished the makeshift rope and tied it off, and Thomas told Aviler the way over the canal and through the Postern Gate that he and Kade had used. + + They secured the rope to the table, and with Thomas to hold it steady, Aviler started to climb. The High Minister disappeared over the portico with no more than a whispered "good luck" and Thomas was grateful, loath to countenance any attempt at sentimentality at this point. When Aviler had reached the snowy ground and vanished into the shelter of the garden walls and frozen hedges below, Thomas pulled the makeshift rope up and bundled it into the bottom cabinet of one of the sideboards. With luck the tangled draperies would look like an aborted attempt at looting. He closed the window and slipped quietly out of the room. + + Chapter Eighteen + + ROLAND COULD NOT stop shivering. He sat near the fire in a windowless interior chamber at Bel Garde. A salon meant for entertaining, its walls were softened by cloth-of-gold draperies and the overmantel and borders delicately painted with black grotesques on gilt backgrounds. Fretfully looking around the room, Roland's eyes lit on a silver and gold filigreed perfume burner he had given Denzil some months ago, and it occurred to Roland just how isolated he had become from the others in his court. He had no other close confidant or advisor but Denzil; most of those who had surrounded him were his cousin's companions, not his, and he had no wish to see any of them. + + Lord General Villon had arrived with his men not long ago, and the walls of the little fortress had almost trembled from the cheers of the other guards. After Ravenna's death their situation had seemed hopeless, and now for the first time there was a chance for revenge and victory. Roland had been just as glad as the others to see them, but he was nervous of Villon, knowing the General's opinion of him was not a high one. And having to greet the old warrior with news of the Dowager Queen's death... + + Behind Roland, in the center of the room, Villon and his officers, their cloaks still steaming from melting snow, met with Renier and the Queen's Guard lieutenant who had brought Falaise. They were talking intently, pointing to the maps laid out on the round table, making some plan. Roland had no wish to join in their council. They all thought him a coward, or a fool, and perhaps they were right. + + A new voice made Roland look up, and he saw that Elaine had been brought in again. The hem of her skirt was torn and dirty, and her face was a pale oval in the candlelight. Her only companion was an Albon knight standing at her elbow as if she were a prisoner, and Roland wondered if she had been left to sit in some cold anteroom, without even a maid to accompany her. Such treatment suddenly reminded him of one of Fulstan's more subtle tricks, when Roland had been left alone in a bare room to contemplate his fate for hours, only to discover later that the King had left the palace and that there would be no punishment after all. + + "Hasn't anyone even sent for a lady to care for her?" Roland interrupted. All heads turned toward him, and he wished they would stop looking at him as if he were mad, or had just grown an extra limb. "God, just let her alone. Your damned questions are worthless." + + "At once, m'lord," someone said. Roland found himself meeting General Villon's expressionless gaze and quickly looked away. Elaine still stood shivering in the center of the room and he motioned her to come over by the fire. She came obediently, taking a low cushioned stool near his chair, moving stiffly as if the cold and shock had solidified her muscles. Roland felt more at ease in her presence. Here, at least, was someone who knew he could not have disobeyed his mother's order, who did not think him a coward. If he had stayed in the tower he would be dead as well, or Bel Garde overrun by fay and they would all be prisoners. But he wondered if he would have had the courage to order his own son or daughter to safety while he met death. I will never know, because we'll all die here and I will never live to have a son or daughter... + + There was more quiet talk, but the council seemed to be over. Roland stared into the fire, trying not to see images it hurt to think about. Since hearing Falaise's tale, he had sunk deeper into grief and pain, and he felt powerless to help himself. He heard Renier move up behind his chair, and he said the words he had been living on since that moment in the tower. "He will explain himself. There will be some reason." + + "Yes, my lord," a soft voice answered. "But if he meant to betray you, wouldn't he also have a reason, a clever lie?" + + Roland looked down at Elaine, startled, and heard Renier gasp. He glanced up and saw that his Preceptor looked as shocked as if a pet cat had spoken. But Roland knew that his mother would not have had women close to her who were fools; they had been at the focal point of the court with her. + + Renier stepped forward to take Elaine's arm and Roland motioned him away, irritated at the interruption. He wanted to talk, and the young woman's eyes were red and bruised from crying and the expression in them anything but cruel. "If he loved me how could he betray me?" he asked, hearing the tears in his own voice. + + "If he loved you, he couldn't," she whispered. + + Roland hesitated. If his mother had asked it of her, this woman would have flung herself off the roof of the highest tower in the city. She would believe whatever Ravenna had told her to believe. But Ravenna was not here to tell her what to say now. If Elaine was repeating his mother's views, it was only because she believed in them herself. + + "You were close as boys," Elaine persisted. "I remember it. But didn't he change?" + + Didn't he? Roland asked himself. Had the teasing turned to mockery? I know he has a cruel streak. God, he could hardly hide it. "That was because..." Roland began, and thought, because after I tried to die, he knew how much I needed him, and he thought me pathetic, and it made him feel powerful. He felt anger stir in him, old tired anger. "Yes, he changed." + + They sat in silence for a time, until a matron who had been one of Ravenna's gentlewomen came for Elaine. She let the older woman lead her away, but reluctantly, with a worried glance back at Roland. + + * * * + + The frigid wind tore at Kade's hair, blowing it into her face, and she shook it away irritatedly. "You'll be ready?" + + The gold and amber fay leaned on his pikestaff and looked down at her with a smile. "If you can flush the birds, my lady, we can chase them." + + It was late afternoon, the sky a low solid gray like the polished surface of an ancient shield, the housetops around them still sheathed in ice and snow. Kade had left Boliver at Knockma, to help the others pack what was necessary and to take them through the ring to Chariot, another of her mother's enchanted castles. She hadn't been to it for years, so it would not occur to the Host to search for her there. She had little memory of what it was like, except that it was big and old, and hidden rather prosaically in the hills of Monbeaudreux, a province in the south. It was protected from the Bisran border by steadily rising mountains that were too high and rugged to cross except on foot. The summer and spring lasted longer there, and they grew olive trees. At the moment it sounded like heaven. + + The fay from the Seelie Court, with his white blond hair, delicate features, and the embroidered satin of his doublet and cloak, was unreal in this world of gray and white. "Chase them far," Kade told him. "I don't want them turning back on us. I've paid enough for it." + + "To the ends of the earth, and that will be a pleasure." The fay swept a bow to her, and suddenly a golden hawk glittered in the air beside her, and with a powerful sweep of its wings, it shot toward the sky. + + Kade watched him until he disappeared into the clouds. She couldn't afford mistakes, and she wasn't at all sure of herself. She had been lax over the last few years, using what she could of the swift instinctive fay magic, depending on glamour and illusion. Swift, and in the end ineffective against the sorcery that was practiced so painstakingly, using as poor a tool as letters from a dead language's alphabet to symbolize concepts that passed understanding. With fay magic it was impossible to attempt something beyond one's skill; with sorcery it was all too possible, and all too deadly. + + Kade hugged herself and shivered. She hadn't given sorcery the long hours of study it needed. Her efforts seemed so ungainly compared to the elegant and involved work of sorcerers like Galen Dubell and Dr. Surete. Both of whom are dead now, she thought, savagely, and at least I'm alive. But it all came home to rest in the end, and she had taken the easy way out far too often. + + Kade knew she should have returned to make up with Roland at once after their father had died. She would not have had to stay long, and it might have made the difference in so many things. If she went to him now to tell him about Denzil, he would never believe her. + + The glass ball Titania had traded her was in a deep pocket of her smock, and when it brushed against her she could feel the warmth radiating out of it even through all her layers of clothing. God, I hope it's contained, she thought. I hope it's not sapping my strength or power, or leaking something into the ether that's going to interfere with the spell. She was not at all sure that what she was attempting would work. She had bought the Seelie Court's help with Knockma, and they would hound the Host from the city, but she would have to stir the creatures out of the palace herself. + + Kade heard something at the edge of the roof, then saw a small fay with ugly wizened features and cornflower blue hair peering at her over the edge. Its narrow eyes widened at her, and she snarled, "Bugger off." It vanished, and she stretched, easing the tension in her tight shoulders. She was a little shocked to realize it was not the cold that was making her tremble. It's going to work, she told herself. It's not going to work, a little voice answered. I'm going to die. + + She took out a pinch of the gascoign powder and rubbed it into her eyes. Looking toward the palace's towers, she could now see the corona of shifting light that played over them, colors touching and fading into one another. There should still be gaps between the wards high in the air above the palace; there hadn't been time for them to draw all the way together, and the higher they were in the air, the slower they would move. Here I go, she thought, and flung herself into the sky. + + Kade had wings, and for a moment only, an unfamiliar instinct told her to use them. Colors changed; blurred outlines in the distance became sharp and clear. Her vision was incredible. Shadows had edges like razors, and her eyes found movement--the flutter of a curtain's edge through a broken window, the slight rustle of a frost-covered tree's branches in a garden court--that she would never detect with human sight. + + Kade realized she was gliding in a circle over the High Minister's house, then she realized she was flying. For a moment human thought and hawk instinct clashed, and her wings flapped frantically. She dropped like a stone. Kade forced herself to let go, to let the unfamiliar senses guide her, and her wings made the correct angle and she caught the wind again. + + She thought she had the trick of it now. One had to exercise enough control to keep one's memory and purpose, but had to give the hawk enough rein to control the body. She made a slow circle to face toward the palace, watching the ground rush by below in impossibly fine detail and trying not to think about what her wings were doing. + + Kade had not taken this form lightly. She knew that hawks, who could dive from hundreds of feet in the air and pluck a mouse off a forest floor, would have good eyesight and that with the gascoign powder she would have a chance of finding the gap in the wards. The smaller body would make slipping through easier as well. Also, if she failed, this wasn't a bad way to spend one's last hour. But she had chosen better than she could have guessed. She could see the wards as fine shadings of gray mist moving almost imperceptibly above the walls. + + And just a moment ago I thought gray a dull color, she thought, amazed. Who had known that one bland color would have so many distinctions? + + A few powerful strokes of her wings took her higher and she flew toward the palace, astonished again at the power and strength of such a small body. She had risen above the wards and almost overshot the palace before she caught herself and turned back. It was no wonder human sorcerers lost themselves when they changed shape. If her sense of urgency hadn't been so strong, it would have been easy to play on these wind currents until she forgot who she was. Is that what happened to all the human sorcerers who tried the shape-changing experiment? Did they keep saying, "I'll just stay out a little longer," until all the words faded from their minds? If only she could afford that kind of self-indulgence. + + Kade found the gap close to the high point where the edges of the wards met above the palace. It was an irregularly shaped hole, a bare four feet wide at its largest... And closing fast. Hawk instinct seized her and pushed on by her fear she dove for the gap. She had forgotten how fast she could move if she tried, and found herself safely through and frantically cupping her wings to slow herself as the sloped roof of the Queen's Tower rushed upward at her. + + Elated, Kade controlled her dive and slipped sideways, catching the wind current around the tower and letting it steer her toward the North Bastion. She hadn't felt a thing when she had rushed past the wards, and now she knew she was going to beat that Bisran bastard at his own game. + + Kade made one slow circle above the King's Bastion for curiosity's sake. Along the top level, she could see the staining on the stones above the windows where smoke had poured out from the sporadic fires there the night of the attack. Then a play of light over the dark tiles of the multipitched roof caught her attention. It looked almost like a ward. + + Yes, it is a ward. She didn't think it was a new one of Grandier's design; it lay on the roof like a discarded scarf. Kade circled again, losing altitude in her effort to see it more clearly. It could be Ableon-Indis, the ward she had called to route the Host in the Old Hall. Her spell might have pulled it out of the etheric structure entirely, and that was why it was still here instead of with the other wards above. It might not have been affected by Grandier's conversion of the other wards at all. + + Kade saw the black shape out of the corner of her eye, and her hawk's body twisted away, reacting before her human mind had grasped the danger. + + It was a black spraggat, its leathery wings stretched above her, claws raking. She dove again, slipping in and out of the currents, but it followed her, its stronger wings overpowering the wind and forcing itself closer to her. + + Kade slipped sideways and it overshot with a scream of rage. She flapped her wings frantically, trying to gain height and take advantage of its mistake, then she heard its screaming turn from anger to pain. She risked a look and saw it was rolling and scrabbling across the roof of the King's Bastion, its leathery wings smoking and bursts of flame appearing over its dark body. It had fallen into Ableon-Indis. I'm right, she thought with great satisfaction. But it's much weaker than it was without its keystone, or it would have burnt that thing up at once. She had one ward on her side, and she would have to think carefully about the best way to use it. + + She turned, making for the North Bastion. Then claws raked her back, and the force of the blow sent her tumbling, her wings frantically beating the air. The second black spraggat dove toward her again and struck at her. She wheeled and turned desperately to escape. The wall of the North Bastion seemed to spin, all the while rushing closer and closer. + + The instincts Kade had fought off earlier took over in force, letting her right herself and fight her way toward the flat mountain looming in front of her. Her claws grasped stone, and there was a rush of air behind her as the spraggat stooped for the kill. She felt herself fumbling, trying to remember what she had to do now, her thoughts overwhelmed by the hawk's fear and its terrible desire to turn and throw itself at the spraggat in a hopeless attack. With the last bit of herself, she stretched out with her mind and touched the spark of light within her feathers that in another existence was a fayre queen's glass ball. She shattered it. + + Then her fingers were digging into the chinks in the stone face, her boots slipping on the ledge. The spraggat screamed its confusion, suddenly confronted with a human larger than itself and the bright painful backwash of a powerful spell. It swung away in fright, and half sobbing with exhaustion, Kade clung to the stone and kicked at the catch of the window. Once, twice, then it sprang open and she fell through. + + She lay on the wooden floor of a cold empty room, gasping, then reached into her pocket. Titania's glass ball was in shards, still faintly warm with the force of the contained spell. Well, I'm not doing that again soon, she thought, sitting up awkwardly. The fay's claws had torn through her coat, leaving two long tears in her back that sluggishly leaked blood. Her shirt and smock hadn't been torn, only snagged aside, and distractedly she searched her pockets for a pin to pull the fabric of the coat back together. Then Kade saw where she was: the walls covered with gilt-trimmed bookshelves, the large windows, the beautifully carved partners desk still piled with paper, more books, and an upset inkwell. + + In her confusion Kade had all but forgotten which room she was making for. She had meant to approach cautiously and make sure the rooms were empty first. She climbed to her feet, inwardly cursing herself and listening hard for any sign of occupation. Stupid, stupid, have you ruined it all now? Is he still using these rooms? Did you go through all that just to be caught? + + She steadied herself against the wall because her legs were still trembling, and crept to the door. But the next room, a small parlor with furniture buried under more books, was cold and unoccupied as well. She ventured through the rest of the suite, feeling her heartbeat begin to steady. She could hear nothing but the wind against the windows, and the rooms were cold, the candles and hearths unlit. Grandier had not come back here, then. + + Kade returned to the study and started her frantic search. The simplest hiding places were the best. It seemed like a year ago, but the morning that she had stood on the windows and spoken to him, he had been planning to let the Host in that very night. It wasn't Galen who betrayed you, she reminded herself. It was Urbain Grandier the murderer. + + She went to the desk and opened all the drawers and looked through the first layer of papers. They were covered with crabbed half-completed calculations, none of which she could follow for more than a few steps. The books on the desk were Theater of Terrestrial Alchemy and The Black Keys; nothing illuminating there. + + She moved around the room, scanning the shelves, shifting books, looking under chair cushions, then turned to the leatherbound chest on the floor. It had books stacked atop it but not much dust compared with the rest of the room, and she remembered that he had just finished putting something in it when she had come to the window the first time. + + Kade kneeled beside the chest and lifted the books from the top. It wasn't even locked. She opened it and was disappointed by the sight of perfectly ordinary folded linens and fustian blankets. + + Then she moved the top layer aside. It lay on a bed of cloth, a stone from the bottom of some streambed, rounded and smoothed by water, small enough to fit comfortably in her two cupped hands. The keystone was inert and silent now. + + She picked it up, marveling at the symbols, letters, and equations incised into its surface. They started out blocky and large enough to read, then shrank as they wound around the stone, some obviously formed by different hands, becoming so tiny they might have been carved with a jeweler's knife, ultimately shrinking until they disappeared from sight. Kade blinked and shook her head, dizzied. She could follow the sense of it for no more than a few turns of the stone, if that. + + Well, Kade thought, rolling it from one hand to the other. So I've got it. Now find Thomas, and take this down to its place in the cellar. + + She bundled the keystone up in the bag she had brought in a pocket and tied it securely around her waist, then started out of the suite. + + Kade listened at the heavy wooden door a moment, hearing no betraying sounds, then opened it cautiously. The next room was dark, but she had expected that. There was the smell of must and dampness and, far away and barely detectable in the frozen air, of death. + + Kade hesitated, one hand on the doorframe. The hackles on the back of her neck lifted. + + If the black spraggat outside had been a guard, there would be a guard inside, as well. + + She crossed the anteroom in three light-footed leaps and reached the opposite door. Let whatever it was come for her then; she had found the keystone. She could do anything. + + Stretching before her was a suite of rooms, filled with silent shapes, distorted by shadows. + + Kade slipped through the first room, sweat freezing on her back, the heavy lump of the keystone bumping her familiarly in the leg. In the second room she stopped. The cold had changed consistency. She felt it moving over her like a mist, clinging to her face and hair, her clothes. + + There is something here. She touched the wall to keep her orientation, straining her eyes in the darkness and slipping the bronze knife out of the scabbard at her belt. Then something moved. She couldn't tell if she was seeing it with her eyes or inside her head. + + Kade eased back against the wall, her heart pounding. Whatever it was would attack her in a moment. She didn't want to give it an advantage by bolting out of the room screaming. + + The whisper almost made her jump out of her skin. It came from across the room, and she tightened her grip on her knife. The voice was low and harsh, and she couldn't make out the words. + + Kade hesitated, aware of precious time passing. Sweat was freezing on her forehead and she didn't know whether to be afraid or angry, to try to push her way past the thing or retreat. Maybe that was its purpose, to keep her here while something else-- + + The voice was getting louder, and though she still couldn't make out the words. It trembled on the edge of her memory, recognition barely a breath away. + + Then she remembered that The Black Keys contained spells for necromancy. + + Her father's voice said, "Little bastard, why did your bitch of a mother bother to drop you? She didn't have to leave you to devil me." + + Kade didn't remember running; she wasn't aware of anything until she was slamming the door of Grandier's study behind her and leaning against it, shuddering. Her knees hurt and one of her gloves was ripped, and the burn in her palm had torn open. She must have gone over or through a piece of furniture, though she didn't remember it. + + Kade went to the desk, picked up the book on necromancy, and slung it through the window. It hit the open casement and smashed the glass, then tumbled out of sight. It was the first time in her life she had ever mishandled a book. + + She paced the room because the liquid fire of fear and anger was in her veins and it hurt to stand still. She smashed an astrolabe and turned over the globe, and dug her fingernails into the open wound on her hand until she stopped sobbing. Then she asked all the old pagan spirits to visit their curses on Grandier, and the Church God to strike him down. + + Kade stopped in the middle of the room finally, pressed her hands together, and thought. It was a test, a trick, a challenge. Grandier meant her to fail. Had he set the ghost here outside these rooms, or had it wandered the palace, to be drawn to her presence if she won a way inside? + + The latter made more sense. But then... But then it could come in here. Kade was at the window in a moment. + + She climbed out onto the sill, then stepped to the broad ledge. The black spraggat was no longer in sight though it might come back at any moment. She was in a poor position to defend herself. + + The frigid wind tore at her, tearing the air out of her lungs. Kade edged her way along, fingers clinging tightly to the chinks in the stone. She hadn't pinned her coat together again and the cold air poured down her back. She would have to cross the siege wall to get to the Old Palace anyway. Can I do it from the outside? Another laborious ten feet and Kade saw that she couldn't, not without falling to her death. She would have to enter the North Bastion to reach the walkway along the top of the wall. + + Finally Kade could stand the cold no more. She reached a set of windows she could push open, then almost fell through them onto the floor of a small bedchamber. Sitting up on the rug that was stiff with frost, she realized she had not even bothered to glance in first to see if the room was unoccupied. She could have landed headfirst among a whole tribe of spriggans, or a troop of Alsene soldiers. + + She buried her head in her hands. He has you on the run. You're playing into his hands again. + + Kade pushed to her feet and went through the doorway to the next room. It was a beautifully arranged parlor, the wallpaper and upholstery of rose and gold. She didn't know who this suite had belonged to or where she was, except that she was near the corner and would have to find the stairs that let out onto the siege wall. The light from the window in the bedchamber made no inroads on the shadows in the corners. The next room would be dark as pitch. + + Kade dug in her pockets and finally came up with a tinder-box. She would light one of the candles in here and take it with her. She would have to do that anyway if she didn't want to be running into walls and stepping on bogles. Coward, she thought as she fumbled with the flint. Bloody coward. + + It refused to catch, and she pried the candle out of the lamp, sat down on the floor with it, and tried to light it with a spell. Her heart was pounding too fast, distracting her, but finally the wick began to glow gently with spell light. It was beginning to yellow to real flame when it went out, as if invisible fingers had snuffed it. "What?" she said aloud, and looked up. + + It was there, in the darkest corner, looking at her. She could feel its gaze with the inner eye of her own sorcery. Her skin turned to ice and sweat dropped into her eyes. Then it whispered, "I could have you killed tomorrow and no one would notice. Perhaps I will--" + + Kade was through the bedchamber, slamming the door behind her, and poised on the windowsill like a bird about to take flight before her wits caught up to her. She made herself stop, grinding her injured hand against the frozen metal of the casement, forcing herself to think. She could climb out and enter through another window, go around it. But it had taken so little time to find her. It would just follow her again. How could she find Thomas with the damn thing following her and freezing her blood-- + + Had it gone after Thomas too? He had helped Ravenna kill Fulstan. But Thomas had never been particularly impressed with Fulstan when the old king was alive; Kade thought it unlikely that he would be concerned about him now that Fulstan was dead. + + It was coming after her because it could make her afraid. + + Kade hesitated, considering the idea. Fulstan had been nothing in life and was even less in death. Thomas and Ravenna had disposed of him with less regret than a peasant would feel when putting down a mad dog. Kade nodded to herself. + + That was the key to it. + + She had not let the old bastard stop her from living her life. She was not going to let him stop her from finding Thomas. + + Kade pushed away from the windowsill and crossed the cold room to the door. Her legs were trembling; her hand on the doorknob trembled. That was all right. She could shake, cry, scream, as long as she didn't break and run. There was no one who mattered here to see her. + + Outside the door she could hear the muttering of the voice. She opened it and stood on the threshold. + + Light from the room behind her fell only a short distance, then seemed to hit a wall of blackness and stop. The voice rose, ranting at her, words of darkness forming all the old terrible nightmares she remembered. "Little lying bitch, my punishment from God for my sins." + + Anything to stop that. She said, "You're nothing." + + It had no effect. The voice rose in volume. "Do you think your pathetic little brother could help you? He'd kill you himself if I ordered it--" + + Roland do something you ordered? Kade found herself thinking. "Who's the liar now?" she said. "He hates you more than I do." And suddenly the words were just words. They hurt, but not with the sting of truth. They were the same words Fulstan had always flung at her, but she was not a child now. Perhaps she had not needed to return to the city of her birth to face her brother. Perhaps she had needed to return to face this. Her voice gaining strength, she shouted, "You're nothing! Galen Dubell was more a father to me than you ever were. Thomas is more a husband to Ravenna than you ever were." The voice went on, louder, and Kade's voice rose to a shriek, drowning it out, all thought of concealment forgotten. "You were nothing to her, you're nothing to me! She killed you because you got in her way and she wouldn't put up with your stupidity anymore. Roland's King now and he curses your memory whether he admits it or not. You're nothing and you always were!" + + On the last word she stalked forward--not running, not blundering in the dark--until she barked her shin on a chair. Cursing the pain, she fell against the other door, opened it, and stumbled through into the next room. + + It had an open door leading into the stairwell, and wan yellow candlelight came down through it from somewhere above. The silence was complete. + + She looked back and could see the gray daylight from windows of the bedchamber through the open door of the salon. It was just a room, cloaked in shadow, no colder than the stairwell. + + "And don't come back," Kade muttered, leaning against the doorframe. Then she heard heavy footsteps from the floor above, and she started hastily down the stairs. If there had been anyone or anything in the bastion, her idiot screaming would bring it running. + + In the next hour Grandier or the Host or Denzil could kill her. But Kade had never felt more free in her life. + + Chapter Nineteen + + THERE WAS A CLANK somewhere in the passage below, as if hollow metal struck stone. Thomas paused on the edge of the gap in the floor and thoughtfully fingered the hilt of his rapier. He had seen Dontane come down the stairs from the council rooms, and he had taken the chance on going ahead into the lower passages and catching him here. + + This was the large passage Grandier had shown him yesterday, the only unblocked way to the cellar where the Unseelie Court had established itself. Thomas had found a spot where a weak place in its ceiling had partly given way, spilling some debris down onto the floor and creating a hole into the space above. Climbing up through the gap, he had found another narrow corridor which was blocked on one end by a collapse of its own. It led only to more disused rooms and a now-rickety stairway up to the floor above. + + A dim light fell down the stairs, slightly alleviating the darkness. Moving silently, Thomas poised on the edge of the gap, listening as the faint noise below became the footsteps of at least two men. Then Dontane passed below, with two Alsene troopers trailing reluctantly behind him. Thomas felt a rush of both relief and tension; he hadn't been certain until now that he would have his chance. Dontane could have brought twenty troopers with him, but the need to conceal his activities from Grandier must have won out over caution. + + Thomas quietly stepped down to a fallen rafter half blocking the gap, then leapt onto the back of the second trooper. + + His weight slammed the man into the hard stone floor. He rolled off the inert form and came to his feet against the opposite wall, ducking the flailing sword of the other trooper. Thomas parried the second wild blow, feinted, and put his point through the man's neck. The trooper sunk back against the wall, clawing at the wound and gasping, then slid to the floor. + + Dontane had turned, whipping his sword free of the scabbard. He recognized Thomas and stopped, eyes widening in disbelief. "You still here--" + + Thomas moved toward him, making it look like a casual stroll. He doubted he could catch Dontane if the sorcerer bolted toward the cellar. "Afraid of Villon? Things not going quite according to plan?" + + He saw the realization of where those things had been said pass over Dontane's frozen expression, and an awareness of just what else had been said. "So that was you. I thought the boy dreaming when he said something had moved in the floor." + + Dontane rushed forward. Thomas started to bring up his sword to parry but saw the blue flame of spell fire flickering down Dontane's blade. Instead of locking their weapons together he swept his sword around, deflecting the deadly blade and disengaging. Even then the shock of contact with that power was enough to send a jolt down his arm. + + Dontane laughed, but sweat was running down his face and he held his sword en garde, not pressing the attack immediately. Thomas steadied himself against the wall. He thought, Damn, this could finish me. It had taken a moment or so for the blast of power to travel down the long rapier blade to his hand, long enough for him to parry and break contact. If he had connected with the shorter blade of a main gauche he would have a useless arm now. Stupid not to realize that the young sorcerer would have an arcane defense against attack. But Dontane had seen the battle at Aviler's house and knew he was outclassed in swordplay; Thomas could almost smell the fear on him. + + Thomas eased away from the wall. "I hope that isn't all you've got," he said softly. "It's not going to be enough." He circled to the side, trying to get between Dontane and the cellar. + + Dontane backed away, preventing him from blocking the passage. Thomas lunged, pulling the tip of his sword up and over Dontane's parry, nicking him in the opposite shoulder. Dontane cried out and his blade swung wide, the flat of it catching Thomas's sword arm. The force of the spell fire on the blade sent Thomas staggering. Dontane stumbled back and lost his grip on his sword. Pressing a hand to his wounded shoulder, he turned and bolted down the passage. + + Cursing at the pain and forcing his almost-numb fingers to hold onto his swordhilt, Thomas ran after him. + + Around the corner he could see the gap in the wall. The unearthly light of the Host had faded, leaving a well of darkness in the old cellar. With the waning daylight outside, the Host must still be quiescent. But Dontane was just disappearing down the stairway and would have every intention of waking them. + + Thomas plunged down after him. Dontane was moving more slowly, still holding one hand pressed to his bleeding, shoulder. He turned as Thomas reached the landing and swung a fist at him. They grappled, struggling across the narrow landing. His sword arm pinned, Thomas forced Dontane toward the edge, then felt the stone give way under his boot; the next instant they were both falling. + + * * * + + Kade had found enough glamour to make it difficult for human eyes to focus on her and had made her way silently through the cold dark rooms to the Old Palace. Now she crouched in the concealing shadows beneath one of the grand staircases, watching the Alsene troops rush about. Most carried lamps and all seemed to be shouting at each other. They had sprinkled more of the cursed iron filings around the areas on the third and fourth floors where they seemed to have made their main encampment. It was the place where Thomas was most likely being held, but Kade's glamour wouldn't last there, not in such close quarters with the lights and so many wary men. + + Kade was torn between staying here to look for Thomas and continuing on her way to replace the keystone. Frustrated, she gnawed on her thumbnail and tried to consider her options rationally. + + Spells might alert Grandier or some member of the Host. The ether was disturbed enough as it was; Kade didn't want to stir it up further and give them the idea that she was about somewhere. She couldn't afford to be caught until she had at least replaced the keystone and driven the Host out of the palace to the waiting Seelie Court. + + A page boy in a slashed doublet and heavy fur cloak came down the stairs and stopped a few feet from her hiding place. He rested one small hand on the newel post and watched the frantic activity of the other men. + + Kade's ears pricked. She needed information. Here was someone to get it from who was small enough for her to overpower. + + For a moment the landing was almost empty. She waited for the last trooper to step through an arch into the next room and then darted forward. + + Kade wrapped her wiry forearm around the page's throat and dragged him back into the shelter of the darkened stairwell. His choked cry broke off as she put the tip of her bronze knife below his jaw. She hissed, "Be quiet." + + She pulled him further into the shadow and whispered, "Quietly now. Grandier has a prisoner, the Captain of the Queen's Guard. Where is he?" + + She eased the pressure off the boy's windpipe enough to allow him to talk. He drew breath to scream and she pressed the knife down just enough to draw a bead of blood. After a moment the boy whispered, "The prisoners escaped." + + Well, that's just fine, Kade thought in irritation. How am I going to find him now? "When?" + + "Earlier today, sometime, I don't know exactly--" His voice was rising, and she prodded him with the knife again to remind him to be quiet. + + There was no way to tell if Thomas had left the palace yet or was still trapped inside. Kade decided she would just have to replace the keystone and improvise the rest. + + The page was trembling under her arm, but Kade sensed he was angry enough to try to come at her when she released him, instead of the far more sensible act of running away and shouting for help. She shoved him away. As he turned back to lunge at her, she threw a handful of glamour into his eyes. He gasped and stumbled to a halt, staring at her, his eyes widening until they were almost all pupil. She said, "You had a dream. A confusing dream. A jumble of images." + + He was still staring straight ahead when Kade slipped around him and started down the stairs. That should confuse his story long enough for her to accomplish her goal. It would only take a few moments to replace the keystone. + + * * * + + Thomas lay facedown, cold gritty stone against his cheek. He levered himself up a little and shook his head, too stunned to think. He caught his breath at the unexpected pain of a hundred new bruises. Then memory returned. He was on the flagstone floor of the cellar. He had fallen down the last flight of stairs. + + Thomas rolled over and sat up. His sword was near his hand; he must have held onto it in instinctive reflex until he struck the pavement. Dontane lay sprawled perhaps twenty paces away. + + And the Host was stirring around them. + + Thomas looked back to the stairs. A dark winged fay with a sleek narrow dog's head had settled on the landing. It was looking down at them with brilliant red eyes. The cellar's soft light grew brighter as corpse-lights climbed the walls. Creatures slunk from under the piles of discarded wood and trash, or seemed to rise out of the floor. All were uniformly hideous but no two were alike, with grotesquely distorted heads, jagged teeth, long clawed hands, ratlike tails, or bat's wings. One of the columns looked as if it had grown fur; Thomas realized it was covered with a troop of brown and dun-colored spriggans. The smell of the place was as foul as the bottom of a bog, and the creatures were still coming out of hiding. + + Three misshapen bogles leapt to the ground between him and Dontane, drawn by the smell of blood. Thomas looked for cover, or something else to use as a weapon. To his right he saw a long heap of broken wood, an old scaling tower lying on its side. While its supports and platforms had been made of wooden beams, the pulleys and chains that extended them and the plates that had protected the troops manning it were of iron, and there were no fay near it. While their attention was on Dontane, Thomas snatched up his sword and ran to the broken tower. He crouched next to it, his back against a large rusted iron plate propped up by the rotting wood. + + As more fay gathered, the growling mutter of their talk growing louder, Thomas scraped up the bolts and metal scraps scattered nearby into a handy pile. Most of the creatures were moving toward Dontane, drawn by the blood and possibly by the young sorcerer's magic. But one small fay covered with fiery red scales and straggling hair crept toward Thomas. He waited until it was close enough, then used the tip of his sword to flip it back and away. + + Incredibly light, the creature sailed back a good twenty feet before bouncing against the flagstones. It leapt up and yelled, "Hey, 'e saw me!" + + Hell, now they know, Thomas thought. The Host could conceal themselves from him now that they knew he could see through glamour. Idiot. It was the second time he had betrayed himself that way. + + But the fay were distracted again as Dontane stirred. The sorcerer rolled over, moaning, and the Host began to draw around him. A chorus of hags, their emaciated bodies barely recognizable as female, strands of grizzled hair clinging to their skulls, gathered around, laughing at Dontane's efforts to stand. + + Dontane staggered to his feet and looked around, realizing he was trapped. He had lost his sword in the corridor above, and Thomas could tell from the way the blood drained from his face that he knew his danger. But with more bravery than Thomas would have given him credit for, Dontane said hoarsely, "Listen to me! We have more mortals for you." + + The stubborn bastard still means to send them after Villon. Thomas knew his chances of reaching Dontane now were poor at best. Still he had to try. He gathered himself to move. + + The assembled fay seemed to be listening, or at least they hadn't attacked Dontane yet. Dontane pivoted, watching them warily. He licked his lips and said, "An army is outside the city gates--" + + Screeching from up in the ceiling drowned out Dontane's voice. Thomas looked up as with a clatter and bang several fay tumbled out of one of the air shafts. They drifted or cartwheeled to the floor, one landing on the far side of the cellar with a fatal-sounding splat. The odor of burning meat and peat moss descended with them. + + One of the drifting forms reached the floor, landed lightly, and strode toward Dontane. Its tall body had a human shape but that was where the resemblance ended. Its skin was black and rough, and as it moved closer Thomas could see that it had been burned. It still carried raw red wounds in its flesh. + + As it neared Dontane, a smaller fay with a flattened head and limbs with too many joints hopped out of the watching crowd to greet it. The little creature danced around the large wounded fay, singing in a piping, clearly audible voice, "He's here, we told! The human wizard! He's here!" + + The tall fay watched this performance, then leaned down and slapped the little creature out of the way. + + Dontane took a few stumbling steps backward as the fay came toward him. It looked down and said in a harsh croak, "You don't know me? Surely you must. I'm Evadne." + + "But--" Dontane stared up at it, growing fear in his eyes. "The others said you didn't come back, there was an explosion in the tower--" + + "Yes, I saw the explosion. I saw it from the inside. I have only just returned with these few, for it took us this long to drag our poor selves back." The hissing voice rose to a shriek. "Your master sent me to my death, you lying human fool!" + + "No, he couldn't have, he knew Denzil wanted to take the King prisoner--" Dontane said, taking another step back. He halted in confusion when he realized the other dark fay were creeping closer to him. + + He sees it now, Thomas thought. Grandier hadn't trusted Dontane and Denzil either. + + Evadne moved nearer to the sorcerer, and Dontane begged, "Wait--" + + The fay prince paused, staring down at Dontane with burning eyes in a ruined face. The others had gone silent in anticipation. + + Dontane hesitated, then with fatal desperation in his voice, said, "I didn't know--" + + "You admit it," Evadne snarled. Dontane clapped his hands together, shouting something. A blue glow of sorcery grew over his head just as Evadne lunged forward. + + One long clawed hand caught the front of Dontane's doublet, jerking him up off the floor. The sorcery evaporated harmlessly as Dontane panicked, struggling to break Evadne's grip. + + Evadne threw Dontane down, slamming him into the hard stone floor. Thomas started at the dearly audible crack of breaking bone. + + Dontane twitched once, then lay like an unstrung puppet. + + Evadne stared down in satisfaction at the silent form, then slowly lifted his head. My turn, Thomas thought, and shifted his grip on his swordhilt. Evadne's hot eyes found him and the fay grinned. "You are human as well, but you see through glamour. What are you?" + + "Does it matter?" Thomas answered. He heard something move behind the heap of wreckage and gathered the bare handful of iron scraps he had collected. + + "Perhaps not." Evadne shrugged, strolling toward him. + + The dark fay were gathering again, drawn by this new promise of entertainment. This is not going to be pretty, Thomas thought. Then something slammed into the rotten wood of the tower behind him. Before the heavy mass could come down on top of him he rolled forward, then he was in the midst of them. Thomas flung the handful of bolts at the closest, momentarily clearing himself a path. He made it almost ten paces toward the stairway before a pack of bogles blocked his way. The others closed around him again and he swept his sword around, scattering them back. + + A squat troll creature leapt at him wildly and he lunged at it without thinking. It fell on his sword, ripping the weapon out of his grip. He was struck from behind and he staggered forward, caught himself, and turned around, waiting to die. + + * * * + + Kade had arrived at the top of the stairway down into the cellar in time to watch the burned fay kill Dontane. She hadn't recognized Evadne until he spoke and his appearance shocked her. What happened to him? I hope it hurts as terribly as it looks. Then she saw Thomas trapped against the broken siege tower and panic sent every other thought out of her head. + + She started forward to the steps, about to plunge down into the cellar. She caught herself, one hand on the wall, and forced herself to be rational. This is no time to be an idiot. The Host was in force here and it would be a fight to the death she could not win. + + Kade knelt on the cold stone of the passage floor, ripped a piece of fabric from her skirt, and shook out the handful of ash she had collected from one of the fireplaces, thinking, I only need a little time, just a little time; don't get yourself killed. She had already gotten the candle lit before coming down here, thinking the cellar would be dark, and that saved precious moments. Dripping the wax onto the fabric and ash, she whispered the powerful words and begged Ableon-Indis to listen. + + She completed the spell and hesitated. If Ableon-Indis had drifted farther away or dissipated... There was no time for that. Kade leapt to her feet and stepped out onto the stairs, shouting "Evadne!" at the top of her lungs. + + All eyes turned to her and the various voices of the Host stopped their singing and howling. They had forced Thomas away from cover and surrounded him, but he was still on his feet. He looked toward her, but she bit her lip and didn't betray any sign that she had seen him. If Evadne had any idea she meant to help him, then they were both dead and that was that. She reached the first landing, and the large flighted fay that squatted there edged away from her, angling its narrow head to watch her surreptitiously. From below Evadne called out, "What are you doing here, sister? Have you come to join us?" + + "I..." She spoke slowly, and wondered if it was as obvious as it seemed that she had no idea what to say. Inspiration struck and she finished, "I lost Knockma to Titania, and I want your help to get it back." She started down the last flight of steps, holding the scrap of spell-patterned fabric behind her back. The creature on the landing could see it, but it would have no idea that it was anything but a rag. + + Evadne turned suddenly to look down at Thomas. "It wouldn't be because of this human, would it?" + + "No." Kade sounded shocked that he would even think such a thing. Her heart wasn't pounding quite so hard now, and it was a little easier to think. + + "That isn't what I was told," Evadne said slyly. + + "Told by whom?" Kade pounced on the admission. "By Grandier? By Dontane?" + + Evadne hesitated, his eyes bright in the dusky cellar, contemptuous of her but growing doubtful. + + "Do you think that was the only lie they told you?" Kade persisted. + + "I don't think it is the only lie you told me." + + She was almost to the bottom of the steps. Where is the damn thing? she thought desperately. The sweat from her hands was soaking into the scrap of fabric. Why is it taking so long? She had to get closer to Evadne. "But you expect that from me. I never pretended anything else. I never sent you off to your death with a false promise." I am, however, about to destroy you now if I can just get this damned ward to-- + + Behind her the fay who had guarded the stairs shrieked in agony. Kade turned as if she were as surprised as the others. The creature staggered and tried to leap into the air, its flesh melting away like hot wax. + + Ableon-Indis had finally arrived. + + The ward had grown weak, and Kade thought her spell would only hold it for a few moments before it drifted back up from the cellar. More of the Host screamed and fled as the ward fell among them. A burst of hot air from the motion of their wings struck her and Kade stumbled and sat down hard on the bottom step. As the nearest gang of bogles burst into flame, a roar of mingled disbelief and fear from the assembled creatures deafened her. Kade clapped her hands over her ears. The fay remembered the battle in the Old Hall too, and now they realized what she had done. Evadne charged toward her, his mouth open in a silent scream, but he was swept away by the rush of his fleeing companions. + + Kade got to her feet and ran into the chaos. + + * * * + + Thomas took advantage of the confusion to recover the rapier from the body of the troll that had taken it. He turned around as Kade reached him. She shouted, "Are you all right?" + + "I'm better," he told her. One of the flighted creatures flew low over their heads, howling, and Thomas caught Kade around the waist and pulled her to him. + + She had never stopped talking. "I found it! The keystone. Look." She struggled to unwrap a round stone covered with delicate carving. "It was right there in his rooms." + + By God, now me have a chance, Thomas thought. He saw that Evadne was fighting his way free of the milling fay, coming toward them. He said, "I'll distract him, and you put it back in its place." + + Kade shook her head, adamant. "No, you have to do it. You couldn't hold him off long enough and I can." + + He stared down at her. Other fay were joining Evadne, and there was no knowing whether the fay prince realized that they had the crucial keystone, or was only coming after them in a blind rage. Kade shrieked, "There's no time! Go on. I'd do it for you!" + + She was right. He said "Damn you," took the keystone out of her hand, kissed her hard on the mouth, and ran. + + Thomas ducked around the milling creatures still panicked by the ward, forcing himself not to look back. He found the right pillar in moments and saw that the clay seal a foot or so above its base had been recently replaced. He reached down just as something struck him from behind. Claws dug into his back, parting the leather of his buff coat. He spun and slammed the creature and his full weight into the stone pillar. Its hold loosened and Thomas wrenched away. Turning, he stabbed the dazed spriggan and shoved it out of the way. + + Dropping to his knees, Thomas broke the clay seal with the heel of his hand. He dug into the soft dirt and his fingers found the stone buried within, but it seemed to slip away as he tried to get a grip on it. He swore, and shifted against the pillar to reach deeper into the niche. Finally he caught the stone and pulled it out. Flinging it away, he shoved the old keystone into the niche, wondering if it was going to struggle to escape too. But it seemed to slide out of his hand and into the proper spot of its own volition. Thomas sat back, breathing hard. Then he realized that the entire room had gone silent. + + He looked up. In that whole great chamber it seemed that not a single fay moved. All were arrested in midaction by a sound or a sight only they could hear. All except one. + + Evadne was coming toward him, shoving his motionless companions out of the way. + + Thomas picked up his rapier and stood. + + * * * + + Kade had led Evadne and the others in a chase toward the opposite end of the cellar, stopping only when she could put one of the pillars at her back. She had felt Ableon-Indis's withdrawal and knew she hadn't much time. She threw a handful of glamour at the nearest snarling bogle to give herself room, then whispered a spell of blinding. The sorcery had greater effect on the creatures of Fayre than it did on humans, and the nearest of the Host screeched and stumbled away as the mist of sightlessness settled over them. The mist dispersed rapidly. As a large and hideous water-fay bore down on her, Kade thought frantically for another spell. + + Then her ears popped and she felt the ether tremble around her. The nearest fay were staring at her, the others gazing about in astonishment. He did it, she thought in relief. The old keystone was taking control of the wards, and the Host could feel the enmity in the etheric structure re-forming around the palace. To those nearest her, Kade said, "You'd better leave, before you're trapped here forever. If you aren't already." + + The dark fay erupted into sound and motion as one, plunging away from her, taking to the air, running screaming across the floor toward the steps. Kade leaned against one of the pillars, weak from relief, then realized Evadne was nowhere to be seen. + + * * * + + The Host was dispersing in panic. Some charged up the stairs while the flighted fay rose into the air, running into the pillars and each other in their confusion. + + Thomas couldn't see Kade. He put his back against the pillar. If Evadne tore the keystone out this would all be undone. + + Evadne broke through the milling fay, charging at him, his long arms reaching. Thomas ducked and swept his sword up. Evadne was too quick and dodged back, aiming a fist at him. + + The blow caught Thomas in the shoulder and knocked him sprawling into the pavement. He rolled over, tasting blood, dazed for a moment. Evadne was standing over him. The fay's burned flesh hung in ribbons and the death's-head grimace of his mouth below the childishly petulant eyes was terrible. Evadne hesitated, obviously torn between the desire to kill Thomas immediately and the need to rip the keystone out of its niche. Thomas struggled to stand and got no further than his knees. + + Something distracted Evadne. He cocked his ruined head, then turned in a crouch. Urbain Grandier stood at the bottom of the steps. Thomas had not seen him come down either; the old man might have materialized out of the air. + + Evadne straightened his tall frame slowly. "You betrayed me, sorcerer." + + Grandier started toward them, his steps unhurried. "Did I?" + + "But I betrayed you." + + Grandier stopped. His expression had not changed, but something in the very stillness in which he stood there was daunting. + + Evadne's grin was terrible. "I bargained with your creature Dontane to destroy you. The human prince you sought to put on the throne would have given me everything I wanted." + + Grandier sighed. "That hardly surprises me." + + Evadne's look of disappointment would have been comical on any creature less maimed and ruined. Thomas crawled back to the pillar and leaned against the niche concealing the keystone. Grandier would have no difficulty in killing him and taking it away, but he meant to keep it in place as long as he could. If Kade hadn't managed to kill herself for him, it would give her more time to escape. The fay wheeling around in the air overhead were moving with purpose now. At the far end of the great cellar they were whipping themselves into some kind of frenzy, flying in a great circle around one of the pillars. A wind was rising out of nowhere in the chamber. + + Grandier shook his head, his features twisting for a moment in disgust. He said, "And what has your scheming gotten you?" His voice rose. "There is an army at the gates! A human army with iron and sorcerers to destroy you, and an army of the Seelie Court waits for you in the air." + + Thomas realized it was the first time he had ever seen Grandier show anger. Evadne snarled, "They cannot destroy--" The pillar the fay were circling on the far side of the chamber suddenly shattered into dust. More fay were joining the circle and others on the floor below were swept up into it. And disappearing. The Host was forming a ring, Thomas realized, and remembered the broken foundation in the Grand Gallery. They're going to bring the ceiling down. + + "Command your Host then; gather your court!" Grandier gestured contemptuously at the fleeing creatures, at the ring forming in the air. "Could you not control your greed for a few days? Could you not have waited until we won to betray me?" He turned his back, as if he were unable to look at the product of his own folly anymore. + + He's speaking to Denzil, Thomas thought. Denzil, who was very good at causing chaos but not so practiced at bringing order out of it. Grandier had betrayed Evadne as well, or tried to; he must know he had no right to expect loyalty from a prince of the Unseelie Court. It was the defection of his human allies that maddened him. And if Thomas was correctly interpreting the expression on the fay's ruined face, Evadne didn't understand one word in three. + + Evadne shook his head, "Lies again. I made you, sorcerer." His voice dripped contempt. "And I'll destroy you." + + Evadne started forward. Grandier turned, his hand moving suddenly. Evadne started back in surprised anger, raising his arms to protect his face. Yes, Grandier still kept his pocket of iron filings. + + Then Grandier raised his hands, speaking softly. + + Evadne shook his head and raked a hand across his face, leaving bloody streaks where the filings had touched him. He sneered, "And what do you intend to do to me, old man?" + + This creature has no sense of self-preservation, Thomas thought in wonder. + + "I'm going to turn your blood to iron," Grandier told him, and his voice held no anger. "It's a spell I prepared for just such an occasion as this, a derivative of a common alchemical process, which you would know if you studied sorcery." + + "I gave you your power," Evadne said. He smiled at the old man. "Destroy me and you will lose it. You will be trapped in this shape forever." + + Grandier hesitated. Then just as Evadne made to move forward, Grandier gestured sharply. Evadne froze. Grandier walked toward him, and as he moved past the silent fay, he pushed Evadne's arm. The corpse toppled and fell, breaking into dust as it struck the floor. + + The Host was disappearing rapidly now, the ring a wild circle of airborne stones, splintered wood, mangled fay bodies, and other debris. Thomas leaned back against the pillar and looked up as Grandier reached him. "Well," Thomas said, "What now?" + + "I still have no regrets." Grandier smiled. His seamed face showed all the weight of his own years as well as Galen Dubell's. "Except perhaps my choice of allies." + + "And your choice of enemies?" Kade was leaning next to the pillar at Thomas's side. He hadn't seen her approach and felt a surge of relief so intense it was painful. + + Grandier watched her a moment, then said gravely, "Yes, that as well." + + "So Villon's troop is here," Thomas said. Trying to keep his attention on Grandier, he didn't look up at Kade. + + Grandier nodded. "Denzil thought the General would hold Bel Garde and attack from there. He did not. He entered the city late this afternoon and is now attempting to force St. Anne's Gate." + + Aviler got through, and Villon decided to risk an assault rather than be trapped in Bel Garde, Thomas thought. And you think he's forcing St. Anne's Gate, but Aviler can tell him that with the Gate House unmanned, the Postern is indefensible. Raising his voice to be heard over the howling wind, he said, "Why aren't you trying to stop him?" + + "I came to stop Kade from replacing the keystone, and to summon the Host." Grandier could still take the keystone, but he made no move to do so. The wind was tearing at their hair, taking their breath away. Grandier squinted into it, then shook his head regretfully. "I fear you and the High Minister were correct. Despite all my experience with violence and treachery, I am still politically naive." + + Thomas couldn't see Galen Dubell in that lined and weary face anymore, as if it were no longer a disguise. As if Grandier himself was actually completely present in that shell for the first time. + + Kade eyed him, unimpressed. "You killed one of my only friends, and I'll never forgive you." + + Grandier's calm gaze went to her. "I cannot argue with that sentiment." + + Still wary, Thomas asked, "What will you do now?" + + Grandier looked startled. Then his knees buckled and he started to collapse, his thin form giving way like an empty sack. Thomas caught him as the old man sagged against the flagstones. As Grandier slumped over forward he saw the bloody gaping hole in his back. + + He looked up, automatically tracing the line of fire. Denzil stood on the second tier of steps, handing a smoking musket to an Alsene trooper. They had heard nothing; the musket's blast had been carried away in the wind caused by the ring and the Host's departure. + + Kade crouched beside Thomas, her face white and drawn in the rapidly shifting light. The trooper handed Denzil another loaded musket. Thomas pushed Grandier's body aside and stood, dragging Kade with him, putting the pillar between them and Denzil's line of fire. "They'll come after us. We have to--" + + Kade shook her head. "It's too late." He could barely hear her over the growing roar of the wind. + + There was a crash that reverberated through the stone beneath them. The swirling mass of the ring seemed to lose its structure as the last of the Host winked out of existence. It flung out a deadly hail of rocks and splintered wood, then it drifted crazily, moving sideways toward them across the large chamber. The troopers on the stairway panicked, bolting back up to the entrance. Looking back around the pillar, Thomas saw Denzil hesitate, cradling the fresh musket, before the rain of debris moved nearer and he too retreated up the stairs. + + They couldn't escape that way without being felled by the flying rubble. Even the keystone pillar was no longer providing decent cover. Thomas winced as a stinging deluge of splinters struck them. He pulled Kade closer and felt her arm go around his waist. + + A section of the ceiling collapsed almost above them, and fell into the ring, pulverized into dust instantly. The pillars shuddered as the ring brushed against them, the forces that drove it pressing outward at the stone, and chunks began to fall out of the far wall. The ring tilted on its axis, falling toward the cellar floor, directly over their heads. + + Then they were in the empty cold silence of the Grand Gallery. Thomas stumbled and caught himself on one of the broken boulders. He would never get used to this form of travel. He let Kade steady him, and they made their way to the edge of the ring and climbed out onto the cold dirty tiles. + + Kade sat down abruptly, as if her legs had suddenly given out, and after a moment Thomas sank to the ground beside her. Out the broken windows of the terrace they could see Alsene troops running awkwardly in the deep snow across the park. There was a burst of pistol fire and two of the men spun and fell, roses of blood growing around them in the snow. + + Thomas looked at Kade, sitting so close, with her hair in wild disarray, and wondered what it would be like to kiss her when he didn't think he was going to die. So he took her chin gently and turned her face toward him and did. + + He had started to draw back when her hand in his hair stopped him. Her mouth stopped his chuckle. + + There were shouts and musket fire from somewhere inside the Gallery Wing now. + + Kade jumped to her feet. "Come with me." + + Thomas looked involuntarily toward the silent fayre ring in the Grand Gallery's floor. He decided that with sufficient motivation he could grow used to anything. Then he noticed that his hands were still speckled with Grandier's blood and thought of Denzil, and Ravenna. Not now, he thought. For a moment the words stuck in his throat, then he said, "I can't." + + He hadn't expected her to react like anyone else, and she didn't disappoint him. She smiled. "It's not that easy." And she stepped back into the ring and disappeared. + + Chapter Twenty + + THE WIND HAD changed direction and emptied the night sky of clouds; stars were visible for the first time in days. + + Lord General Villon had set up a command post on the siege wall of St. Anne's Gate, under the light of lamps and torches placed all along the high crenellated battlement. Thomas leaned on an embrasure and watched as the old General paced up and down, consulting with his officers through the couriers continuously reporting in. The snow and ice were melting rapidly and it was warmer now than it had been at twilight. + + Villon had wanted to bring Roland back into the city as soon as possible. His men were clearing the palace of any remaining fay and Alsene troops, with the help of the sorcerers from Lodun who had arrived at nightfall just after Villon. It was Grandier's manipulation of the weather that had drawn their attention and brought them to investigate. Lodun had never received any of the messages Ravenna had sent out before the attack. + + Thomas didn't know where Roland was and hadn't asked. He knew the young King had been taken to some secured place inside the city wall. Falaise was at the Bishop's Palace; he had approved Gideon's suggestion that she be taken there a few hours ago. Some of the court at least had returned, and the rest of his own men and the Albon Knights were here helping to hunt down the last of the Alsene troops. + + Fire occasionally blossomed in the dark canyons that were the streets of the city below: the lamps and torches of patrols or of townspeople hesitantly venturing out. They expected reinforcement in the form of the royal garrison at Portier to arrive sometime in the morning. Villon had learned that frantic messengers from the mayor of a village on the trade road had been sent there and to the Granges, bearing confused tidings of a massive attack. + + Thomas had deliberately removed himself from the action. He had been with Villon for the past few hours, answering questions and directing him to the areas where Denzil's men might be concealed. Now he was merely waiting. + + Recently he had noticed that time seemed to be passing in short stretches bordered by periods of less-than-coherent thought, and that his only support was the rough stone of the battlement. At one point he noticed that Berham was standing next to him, and had apparently been there for some time. + + There was a new flurry of activity along the wall as Villon's cornet officer arrived with Dr. Conadine, one of the Lodun sorcerers. After a long consultation with them, Villon turned and came toward Thomas. The General was a small man, half a head shorter than Thomas, with graying dark hair. He had been one of Ravenna's oldest friends, having grown up with her on her father's country residence. Villon said, "They've taken our good Duke of Alsene. He's confessed to Aviler." + + Thomas was not so far gone that he misinterpreted the General's expression. "And?" + + "He's embellished somewhat, trying to make it look as though it were a misunderstanding." Villon's expression became deeply ironic. "That's to be expected. But he also says he killed the sorcerer Urbain Grandier. Conadine truth-tested him, and he's not lying." + + Thomas looked at the night-shrouded city that was slowly creeping out of hiding. "I know." + + Villon nodded, letting out his breath in resignation. "Of course, we look at it and say he's cutting his losses. It's only sense for a man to dispose of his confederates when a plot like this goes wrong. But the boy won't see it that way." + + Roland had always been "the boy" to Villon. Still looking out at the city, Thomas said, "Denzil sent the Unseelie Court to take Roland prisoner and kill Ravenna." + + "No, Grandier did." Villon was not arguing the point, but stating the facts as Roland would see them. "But he made a mistake in not killing Aviler. There's no getting around the point that Denzil brought a private troop into Vienne for the purpose of forcibly removing a High Minister from his home, killing a number of city guardsmen engaged in their rightful duty, not to mention a great lot of folk who were driven out into the street and killed by those demon creatures. And he didn't put that troop at the King's disposal, but used it for his own business which involved imprisoning warranted officers of the crown." Villon shook his head. "If Ravenna were alive I'd order the scaffold built. As it is... There was only one hope, but too many people saw us take him alive. He made sure of that." + + Thomas felt Villon expected a response, so he said, "He would." + + Villon's gaze went to the city. "You can't help us anymore tonight. Go back to the Guard House." + + After a moment, Thomas smiled. "You're bringing Roland back to the palace and you want me out of the way." + + "She taught you everything she ever knew, didn't she? Everything the boy should have learned." Villon sighed. "Do you think you can control your desire for martyrdom and let me manage this?" + + Desire for martyrdom? Thomas thought. "I don't have to be here, you know. I had two better offers." + + "That's not an answer." + + "Of course it is." Thomas pushed away from the wall and turned to leave. + + "The boy won't think so," Villon called after him. + + Thomas decided to walk along the wall as far as he could before going down to the courts below. The sky was beautiful. Berham was following him, and Thomas noted the servant still had the two pistols he had given him the night of the first attack. When they had walked awhile Thomas said, "I'm going to send you and Phaistus over to Renier." + + "Respectfully, Sir, I'm a forgetful man, and I don't think I could remember that I was Lord Renier's servant after all the years of being yours, so if I were asked--" Berham shrugged. "I would just have to speak my mind." + + "That was a very gentle threat." Thomas smiled to himself. + + "I don't know what you mean, Captain." + + The wind picked up, cool but without the frozen edge that took the breath away. They walked along in silence for a time, then Thomas suggested, "You could get yourself up as a highwayman and terrorize the trade road." + + Berham chuckled. "There's a thought; there's a thought indeed." + + * * * + + Even though the Old Courts had been taken over by the Host shortly after the evacuation, the Queen's Guard House had not been much disturbed. Thomas wondered if the sigils Kade had put on the cornerposts had been more effective than she had realized. As he came into the entryway, he could see that the lamps were lit in the practice hall, and there were Queen's and a few of the remaining Cisternan guards there. Out of the original hundred and twenty men in the Queen's Guard, over seventy had survived, and that was more than he had expected. Deciding to avoid the occupied areas of the house, Thomas trudged wearily up the side stairs. + + Phaistus was in the anteroom, building up a fire in the hearth. The bedchamber beyond was musty and cold. Thomas stripped off his buff coat and what was left of the doublet beneath, left them in a ragged bloodstained pile, and sat down on the bed. After a moment he fell over backward and stared at the underside of the tester. + + He fell into a kind of half-conscious doze, only dimly aware of Berham and Phaistus rustling familiarly around the room and laying a fire in the hearth. + + He said "ouch" quite distinctly when Berham pulled his boots off. The servant leaned over him a moment, then said, "Is there something you want us to see to?" + + Thomas shook his head. He heard the door shut as the two servants left, and in moments he was asleep. + + It must have been hours later when he opened his eyes and Kade was kneeling on the bed, leaning over him. She grinned. "Surprise." + + * * * + + Eventually Thomas brushed a tendril of hair back from her forehead and said, "It's a long time since I've been with a woman who giggles." + + Despite the awkwardness of mutual bruises, cuts, and claw-marks, they were good together. There wasn't any other woman he would have felt comfortable making love to in this condition, but there wasn't any other woman who would have pounced on him like that either. He had been trying to decide what would be worse: a taste of what the next twenty years could have been like, or never knowing at all. He was glad she had taken the decision out of his hands. + + "Don't brag," Kade said, smiling. "I know there have been hundreds of others." + + "Not quite hundreds." + + There was a scratch at the door and Berham's voice whispered harshly, "Captain, there's a couple of Albons downstairs. They were sent to tell you the King's giving an audience and he wants you there." + + Couldn't he have waited one damn day? was Thomas's first thought. Reluctantly, he rolled off the bed, found his clothes, and started to dress. + + Kade sat up and pulled her smock on over her head, then watched him quietly. When he sat down on the bed to get his boots on she said, "Leave with me." + + One boot halfway on, Thomas stopped. The words "all right" were on the tip of his tongue. "I can't." + + "Ravenna's gone. There's nothing left for you here." + + "I have that lovely offer from Falaise." + + She grimaced. "Listen to yourself. You know she's afraid of you." + + He finished pulling his boots on. "That makes the situation perfect then, doesn't it." + + "That's not what you want." + + He couldn't ask her how she knew what he wanted, when it was all too obvious that she did know. + + After a moment, Kade said, "I don't know exactly what I'm going to do, after giving up Knockma. I have other places and my household--well, you met Boliver; they're all mostly like that, except some of them are human. We argue sometimes but we never try to kill each other and no one's terribly ambitious, which is why they live with me, I suppose. What I'm trying to say is it wouldn't be like here at all, if you're as sick of this place as I think you are, and I hope you are, because I think I'm going to have some difficulty living without you." + + "I'm not going to make any promises I can't keep." There was a muffled crash from the next room. Thomas grabbed the scabbarded rapier hanging over the bedpost and went to the door. He opened it a crack and saw Berham and Phaistus looking out the far door onto the landing. Thomas stepped out. "What is it?" + + "Nothing, nothing." Berham looked back. "One of the Albons thought he should deliver his message in person, Sir, but some of the men pointed out that he was mistaken." + + "Did they throw him down the stairs?" + + "A little, yes." + + Thomas shook his head, stepping back into the bedroom. Kade was gone, and one of the high windows was open, the morning breeze stirring the curtains. + + * * * + + The court was held in a hall on the ground floor of the King's Bastion. It was relatively undamaged, except for marks of smoke and water where the walls joined the high sculpted ceiling. Massive paneled paintings hung on the walls, views of the canal city of Chaire. Standing in the center of the room was like standing on the Mont Chappelle and looking down at the beautiful ancient city. + + The audience was small: Villon's officers, and men from the city troops that had come out of hiding, the courtiers who had returned from Bel Garde with Roland. Thomas was glad to see the Count of Duncanny in attendance. His party had not been able to make it out of the city, but had taken refuge in one of the fortresslike great houses and survived almost intact. + + Albon knights lined the walls and were posted next to the doors. Thomas went to join Villon. Without looking at him, the old General said, "Don't expect much." + + A worn and haggard Aviler was pacing in front of the chair prepared for Roland. Falaise was already present, seated in an armchair near the front of the room but to one side, so the focus was on the tapestry-draped chair waiting for the King. That was Aviler's touch, Thomas was sure. Renier would not have thought of it. + + Gideon and Martin and several other Queen's guards stood around the Queen's chair. Thomas knew from the way Gideon kept trying to catch his eye that they were wondering why he didn't join them, but he was not going to unless Falaise ordered it. + + The door at the front of the room opened and Roland and Renier entered, followed by more Albons. Thomas was surprised to see Ravenna's gentlewoman Elaine in the King's entourage, but only for a moment. She had learned survival from the best. + + As Roland took his seat Aviler stepped back to the side, waiting with folded arms. At the King's nod, he motioned to one of the knights. + + Roland's eyes were dark hollows in his drawn face. He held his cloak pulled around him tightly, though the hall was almost warm. + + There was a stirring at the back of the room, then the crowd parted for a group of Albons. Thomas felt his nerves go taut. + + The knights were escorting Denzil, of course. + + They crossed the room in silence except for the click of their boots on the parquet floor, stopping before Roland's chair. The Duke of Alsene wore a court doublet in somber colors, and his arm was no longer in a sling. He looked less weary than Roland, but then, after his capture, Denzil had probably been able to sleep through the night. + + Surprisingly, Roland spoke first. He said, "It was all true." His voice was soft, but clearly audible in the room so silent a loud heartbeat could have been heard. + + Denzil said, "My lord--" + + "I did not give you permission to speak." + + Denzil waited, watching Roland. + + "You plotted with the sorcerer Urbain Grandier." Roland closed his eyes. "Against me." + + The gesture might have looked theatrical, to someone who didn't know the actors. Roland was in real pain. He looked up suddenly. "My mother was killed." + + For the first time there was a response from the crowd, a low whisper of comment that was hardly more audible than a wind stirring summer leaves. Thomas knew they were thinking that it had broken Roland. Aviler swayed as if to move forward, then stopped himself. It was a curiously moving gesture of restraint; the High Minister was going to trust that Roland hadn't gone mad, and would not attempt to control what the King said in an open audience. + + Roland fingered the carved chair arm, and his eyes went to Denzil. "Many people were killed. Someone should die for that." + + Thomas realized he was holding his breath. + + Denzil was as still as a statue, and almost as pale, but he didn't look away from Roland's hollow eyes. Thomas knew that people were remembering the two had grown up together, though Denzil was older. + + Roland shifted in his chair suddenly, looking away. "The sorcerer Grandier is dead. Most of the traitors are dead. The charter of the troop of the Duchy of Alsene is to be torn up, the survivors disbanded, their arms taken, and they will not be allowed to form again under those colors on pain of death. The men who hold Officers' commissions in the Troop of Alsene will be ordered executed as traitors, for the act of treason against the crown and the Ministry. Any of the lords of Alsene found in the palace taking part in the conspiracy will be ordered executed as traitors, on the same charge. Denzil Fontainon Alsene, Duke of Alsene, is...is ordered..." Roland did not look at Denzil, or anyone else. His gaze was locked on the pastel haze in a painting of a harbor skyline. The silence stretched, but no one in the crowd made the slightest sound of inattention. Roland closed his eyes to shut out some vision other than the painting. "Is ordered banished from our borders--" He hesitated again, as if he heard himself speaking and wondered at it. Then he continued, "Forever. On pain of death." + + Thomas realized that Villon had moved to his other side and was now companionably holding his sword arm. It wasn't necessary. He didn't move. + + Roland stood and left the room in a flurry of robes, his attendants closing in around him. The crowd began to talk and mill around, speaking softly at first and then more loudly as tension began to ease. Villon said, "For a moment I thought--" He shook his head, wry bitterness in his eyes. "My days of service won't last much longer, and I can't say that I'm sorry." + + Villon had released of Thomas's arm, so he started making his way up toward the front of the hall. Halfway there Aviler met him. The High Minister looked haggard but also energized. He had probably done more of his life's work in the past day than he ever had since first taking office. He said quietly, "Denzil has three days to leave the city. That's not much time. We need to talk." + + "No," Thomas said. + + Aviler looked blank. "You mean, not here?" + + "I mean, not at all." Before he could move on, he saw Renier coming toward them, using his bulk to part the milling crowd. + + He reached them and said, "The King wants a private audience with you, Thomas." + + "Good." He followed Renier to the front of the room, conscious of Aviler and Villon watching him. + + The door at the back of the hall led to a short maze of old council rooms, all crowded with Albon knights, servants, and court functionaries. Thomas recognized no one, conscious of them only as blurs of color and noise. Eventually they reached a chamber with wide double-panel doors standing open and another contingent of knights guarding it. + + Thomas followed Renier inside. It was a large parlor with arabesque wallpapers, thick carpets, and heavy brocaded furniture. There was a fire in a hearth with a mantel supported by two carved-marble nymphs, and all the candles were lit. Roland sat in one of the armchairs, staring unseeing at the far wall. + + Renier said, "My lord." + + Roland looked up, his eyes focusing. "Thank you. Everyone else go." + + Some of the knights stepped out immediately, but the others lingered, looking to Renier for direction. Thomas knew they were not easy with the idea of leaving him alone with Roland, and was almost amused to see that Renier apparently shared their opinion. What surprised him was that Roland realized it as well. + + As Renier started to speak, Roland stood suddenly and shouted, "Get out!" + + The other men moved reluctantly, and Roland crossed the room and flung the heavy carved doors shut after them. The sudden movement seemed to almost exhaust him, and he dropped into the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands. + + Thomas simply stood there, not discomfited by the display, and waited for Roland to recover himself. He looked around the room and was startled to notice a portrait of Fulstan in the far corner. It was a good likeness of Roland's father in his early middle age, and it had probably been moved from some other more prominent location and buried away here, as all the portraits of Fulstan were eventually buried away somewhere. + + Roland looked up and noticed what had caught Thomas' attention. He stared at the portrait for a long moment himself, then said, "He hated you." + + "He hated everyone," Thomas answered. + + Roland sat very still for a time, then looked away. He said, "My Queen has given me to know that she wishes you to remain as Captain of her guard. I agree." + + Roland would allow Denzil to return. Not today, or this month, but perhaps before the year was out. If Denzil had killed Ravenna with his own hands, if Roland had actually seen him casually ordering the destruction of Villon's troops, then it might have been different. But the ties between them were too strong, Denzil was too seasoned a manipulator, and Roland was still too enmeshed in self-hatred to break the link for good. The boy had proved that to himself and everyone else in the audience hall. But now he knew what his lifelong friend was capable of, and in time he might manage to break free. + + But Roland was a King, and could not be allowed the time. + + "That won't be necessary, Your Majesty," Thomas said. "I'm resigning my commission." + + Roland's head jerked up. His hands trembling on the arms of the chair, he asked sharply, "Why?" + + Thomas needed to get away now, before Roland changed his mind. He said, "Your mother would have wanted it this way," bowed, and went out, closing the door behind him. Roland made no attempt to call him back. + + Thomas passed Renier without speaking and made his way back through the passages. Roland already knew what was going to happen. The only one who thankfully hadn't realized it was Kade. She had been away from court too long and must have believed that Denzil would die for his crimes. And so he will, Thomas thought. So he will. + + Denzil was still in the hall. The knights were grouped loosely around him, and he was watching the crowd with folded arms, smiling faintly. + + Thomas went up to him, ignoring the knights who tensed watchfully and the stares from the others in the room. He said, "We have a long-delayed appointment." All Denzil had to do was refuse. Refuse and walk away alive, free to use all the persuasive powers at his command on an oversensitive boy-king who had lost his only companion and his mother in one blow, to trade on old love and loyalty to work his way back into Roland's trust. But he has always been greedy, Thomas thought, and he wants me badly. + + Denzil hesitated, watching Thomas, weighing chances, opportunities, desires. If Roland could have seen that look in the eyes of a man who should be nearly broken by the sentence of banishment from a childhood friend... But that was something Denzil would be far too clever to allow. He nodded. "Is that how it is?" he asked lightly. "Do you want to challenge me or should I challenge you?" + + The room was silent now. "It doesn't matter," Thomas said, and thought, Now I've either gotten what I wanted or handed him the pleasure of killing me on top of all his other victories. + + "Very well then. Now, no seconds, and out in the court." + + "Agreed." + + Thomas started for the double doors at the end of the room without waiting to see what Denzil did. There was a rising murmur of comment among the people still in the hall. Gideon caught up with him on the steps and said, "Captain, what's--" + + Thomas interrupted, "The Queen will give you the appointment. You know as much as I can teach you now; the rest you'll do on your own. Just be careful and don't trust anyone, especially Falaise." + + He went out into the wide paved court between the bastion and the Mews. The clouds had drawn over the sky again and it was raining a light drizzle. It slicked the paving stones and covered everything with a fine coating of moisture. + + Denzil and his escort came out into the court, but they still had to wait while Denzil's swords were sent for. Thomas paced to keep bruised and strained muscles loose and felt a tense excitement building in him. + + He thought of Roland sitting alone in that beautiful unused room, waiting for the news. The young King would not stop the duel. But if Thomas won, and that outcome was much in doubt, he would not forgive him for it either. Burn the bridges after you cross them, not before, Ravenna would say. He had lied to Roland; he didn't know if Ravenna would have wanted it this way or not. To the end, she had always been capable of surprising him. But with Kade or without her, he couldn't live with himself if Denzil survived this. + + A crowd was gathering of Albons, Villon's men, Queen's guards, the servants and courtiers who had returned with Roland and Falaise. A servant brought Denzil's weapons finally, a swept-hilt rapier and main gauche. Both were utilitarian dueling weapons, with silver-chased hilts and no ornamentation. + + Thomas wailed while Denzil examined the blades, then drew his own weapons and moved out into the open area of the court. Denzil wore a tight smile; he had nothing to lose by this and he knew it. + + They circled each other. The first exchange of blows was light, testing. Denzil was strong and quick, and he had excellent instincts. + + And excellent training. Thomas countered a feint and lunge that should have punctured his shoulder and left his sword arm useless. Wanting to see if something unorthodox would rattle the younger man, Thomas parried the next thrust with a broad sweep of his rapier and stepped in to attack with his main gauche. It surprised Denzil but he recovered in time to parry with his own offhand weapon. + + They were both more careful after that, and in the steady exchange of blows that followed, Thomas felt the duel taking on a rhythm. They were evenly matched, but he was feeling the fatigue of the past four days, and the knot of scar tissue the elf-shot had left behind in his leg was starting its persistent ache. If Denzil felt any lingering effects from the pistol wound in his shoulder that Grandier had healed, he didn't reveal it. + + Denzil made a hard lunge and Thomas struck the blade away. He realized an instant later that the parry had not been strong enough as he felt the steel slip past his right side. Denzil whipped the forte of the blade against Thomas's ribs and pulled sharply back. Thomas felt the cut opening in his side even as he stepped away and brought his sword up in a thrust. + + In his eagerness Denzil had overbalanced himself and stumbled, his parry turning into a desperate block with the hilt. The tip of Thomas's rapier caught in the bars of the swept hilt and was trapped for an instant. Thomas slipped on the wet cobblestones and fell as Denzil wrenched the hilt free. Denzil recovered first and lunged at Thomas's chest as he was trying to stand. Thomas twisted away and the point struck the ground behind his back. He rolled back onto the blade, jerking it out of Denzil's grip, his weight snapping it. + + Thomas rolled to his feet. Denzil backed away, wiping his face with his sleeve, then he looked at the watching crowd and yelled, "Another sword!" His glove was torn and his hand bled from where the point had caught him. + + Thomas picked up his own rapier and saw that the tip was broken off. He walked back toward the crowd, shaking the rain-soaked hair out of his face, trying not to press a hand to his side where he could feel the blood soaking through his shirt. The blade hadn't bitten too deeply, but it was more than enough to slow him down. + + He handed the broken weapon to Berham and took the cup-hilted rapier Gideon was holding out to him. Their stricken expressions said it all. + + There was some movement in the crowd, someone pushing through the group of anxiously watching guards. Then suddenly Kade was standing in front of him. She was barefoot again, and with her ragged dress and disarrayed hair, she could have been some wilder variety of nymph. Except her gray eyes were too human, angry and afraid at the same time. Thomas said, "I thought you'd gone." + + She said, "I'm half fay, but I'm not a fool. I've been up on the roof of the Guard House. I was going to wait you out, but Phaistus came and told me." + + Thomas glanced up in time to see the young servant quickly retreating behind Gideon. He looked back down at Kade. + + Almost pleading, she said, "Can't you just let me kill him, or have someone shoot him, and then we could go?" + + "No. I have to do this." + + "But I could--" + + He put a finger over her lips. "No. It has to be this way. You said you'd do it for me, remember?" + + She shook her head, anger temporarily winning out. "Fine. If I'd known you were going to do something like this, I'd have let you stand there and take on all the Unseelie Court and be killed." + + "Fine. But if he wins, I want you to hurt him very badly before you kill him." + + "I will. Very badly." + + He turned and walked back to the center of the open area. Denzil was waiting for him with an unguarded expression of grim rage. Good, Thomas thought. He's angry; that'll help. Thomas was only exhausted and bleeding. Denzil had probably never faced an opponent in a serious duel who was as good or better than he was, and the young Duke was responding to it with anger. Falaise had come out onto the steps of the bastion and was watching with her ladies, her guards around her. She lifted a hand to him, and Thomas saluted her with his sword, then turned back to Denzil. + + Denzil came at him furiously, but was not foolish enough to leave himself open. For a time Thomas was aware of nothing but his screaming muscles, of the flickering danger of the blades, of the blood pounding in his ears. He could see that Denzil's face was white and strained, that he was tiring too. The rain was coming down harder now and they were both slipping on the wet stones; Thomas knew another fall would finish him. + + Then they both lunged at the same moment. Thomas disengaged and circled his rapier around Denzil's blade, twisting his wrist as he sent the point home with his remaining strength. He felt the point of the other rapier graze his arm even as he moved, felt it open a line of fire across his biceps as it went toward his chest; then it dropped away. It wasn't until he stumbled back and felt the resistance on his own blade before it came free that he realized what had happened. + + Denzil was on his knees, one hand pressed to his chest with blood spreading between his fingers. Thomas stepped back, waiting. + + It had been a clean blow, right to the heart. Denzil tried once to take a breath, his cold eyes fixed on nothing and already going blank, then he slumped forward onto the wet pavement. + + Thomas dropped his sword and walked back to where Kade and the others waited. He stopped in front of her, trembling with exhaustion and feeling cold and empty. She shook her head, ran a hand through her tangled hair, and looked up at him. Meeting her eyes, the feeling of emptiness fled. + + Impatient, her voice weak with relief, Kade said, "Now can we go?" + + "Yes, now we can go." + + + + end + + + + Revised edition: Trade paperback, November 2006, ISBN 978-0-6151-3571-7, $18.30. + + Now available at Lulu.com, Barnes and Noble, Amazon, Amazon UK, Amazon.ca, Amazon.fr, Amazon.de, or an independent book store near you through Booksense. + + (c) 2006 by Martha Wells + + + + + + A free ebook from http://manybooks.net/ \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/whittier.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/whittier.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..32c9abd --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/whittier.txt @@ -0,0 +1,82043 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Complete Works of Whittier, by +John Greenleaf Whittier + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Complete Works of Whittier + The Standard Library Edition with a linked Index + +Author: John Greenleaf Whittier + +Release Date: January 2006 [EBook #9600] +Posting Date: July 10, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WHITTIER *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +THE COMPLETE WORKS OF JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER + + +By John Greenleaf Whittier + + + + + +VOLUME I. NARRATIVE AND LEGENDARY POEMS + + + + +PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT + +The Standard Library Edition of Mr. Whittier's writings comprises his +poetical and prose works as re-arranged and thoroughly revised by +himself or with his cooperation. Mr. Whittier has supplied such +additional information regarding the subject and occasion of certain +poems as may be stated in brief head-notes, and this edition has been +much enriched by the poet's personal comment. So far as practicable the +dates of publication of the various articles have been given, and since +these were originally published soon after composition, the dates of +their first appearance have been taken as determining the time at which +they were written. At the request of the Publishers, Mr. Whittier has +allowed his early poems, discarded from previous collections, to be +placed, in the general order of their appearance, in an appendix to the +final volume of poems. By this means the present edition is made so +complete and retrospective that students of the poet's career will +always find the most abundant material for their purpose. The Publishers +congratulate themselves and the public that the careful attention which +Mr. Whittier has been able to give to this revision of his works has +resulted in so comprehensive and well-adjusted a collection. + +The portraits prefixed to the several volumes have been chosen with a +view to illustrating successive periods in the poet's life. The +original sources and dates are indicated in each case. + + + CONTENTS: + + THE VAUDOIS TEACHER + THE FEMALE MARTYR + EXTRACT FROM "A NEW ENGLAND LEGEND" + THE DEMON OF THE STUDY + THE FOUNTAIN + PENTUCKET + THE NORSEMEN + FUNERAL TREE OF THE SOKOKIS + ST JOHN + THE CYPRESS-TREE OF CEYLON + THE EXILES + THE KNIGHT OF ST JOHN + CASSANDRA SOUTHWICK + THE NEW WIFE AND THE OLD + + THE BRIDAL OF PENNACOOK + I. THE MERRIMAC + II. THE BASHABA + III. THE DAUGHTER + IV. THE WEDDING + V. THE NEW HOME + VI. AT PENNACOOK + VII. THE DEPARTURE + VIII. SONG OF INDIAN WOMEN + + BARCLAY OF URY + THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA + THE LEGEND OF ST MARK + KATHLEEN + THE WELL OF LOCH MAREE + THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS + TAULER + THE HERMIT OF THE THEBAID + THE GARRISON OF CAPE ANN + THE GIFT OF TRITEMIUS + SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE + THE SYCAMORES + THE PIPES AT LUCKNOW + TELLING THE BEES + THE SWAN SONG OF PARSON AVERY + THE DOUBLE-HEADED SNAKE OF NEWBURY + + MABEL MARTIN: A HARVEST IDYL + PROEM + I. THE RIVER VALLEY + II. THE HUSKING + III. THE WITCH'S DAUGHTER + IV. THE CHAMPION + V. IN THE SHADOW + VI. THE BETROTHAL + + THE PROPHECY OF SAMUEL SEWALL + THE RED RIVER VOYAGEUR + THE PREACHER + THE TRUCE OF PISCATAQUA + MY PLAYMATE + COBBLER KEEZAR'S VISION + AMY WENTWORTH + THE COUNTESS + + AMONG THE HILLS + PRELUDE + AMONG THE HILLS + + THE DOLE OF JARL THORKELL + THE TWO RABBINS + NOREMBEGA + MIRIAM + MAUD MULLER + MARY GARVIN + THE RANGER + NAUHAUGHT, THE DEACON + THE SISTERS + MARGUERITE + THE ROBIN + + THE PENNSYLVANIA PILGRIM + INTRODUCTORY NOTE + PRELUDE + THE PENNSYLVANIA PILGRIM + + KING VOLMER AND ELSIE + THE THREE BELLS + JOHN UNDERHILL + CONDUCTOR BRADLEY + THE WITCH OF WENHAM + KING SOLOMON AND THE ANTS + IN THE "OLD SOUTH" + THE HENCHMAN + THE DEAD FEAST OF THE KOL-FOLK + THE KHAN'S DEVIL + THE KING'S MISSIVE + VALUATION + RABBI ISHMAEL + THE ROCK-TOMB OF BRADORE + + THE BAY OF SEVEN ISLANDS + To H P S + THE BAY OF SEVEN ISLANDS + + THE WISHING BRIDGE + HOW THE WOMEN WENT FROM DOVER + ST GREGORY'S GUEST + CONTENTS + BIRCHBROOK MILL + THE TWO ELIZABETHS + REQUITAL + THE HOMESTEAD + HOW THE ROBIN CAME + BANISHED FROM MASSACHUSETTS + THE BROWN DWARF OF RUGEN + + +NOTE.--The portrait prefixed to this volume was etched by +S. A. Schoff, in 1888, after a painting by Bass Otis, a pupil of +Gilbert Stuart, made in the winter of 1836-1837. + + + + +PROEM + + I LOVE the old melodious lays + Which softly melt the ages through, + The songs of Spenser's golden days, + Arcadian Sidney's silvery phrase, + Sprinkling our noon of time with freshest morning dew. + + Yet, vainly in my quiet hours + To breathe their marvellous notes I try; + I feel them, as the leaves and flowers + In silence feel the dewy showers, + And drink with glad, still lips the blessing of the sky. + + The rigor of a frozen clime, + The harshness of an untaught ear, + The jarring words of one whose rhyme + Beat often Labor's hurried time, + Or Duty's rugged march through storm and strife, are here. + + Of mystic beauty, dreamy grace, + No rounded art the lack supplies; + Unskilled the subtle lines to trace, + Or softer shades of Nature's face, + I view her common forms with unanointed eyes. + + Nor mine the seer-like power to show + The secrets of the heart and mind; + To drop the plummet-line below + Our common world of joy and woe, + A more intense despair or brighter hope to find. + + Yet here at least an earnest sense + Of human right and weal is shown; + A hate of tyranny intense, + And hearty in its vehemence, + As if my brother's pain and sorrow were my own. + + O Freedom! if to me belong + Nor mighty Milton's gift divine, + Nor Marvell's wit and graceful song, + Still with a love as deep and strong + As theirs, I lay, like them, my best gifts on thy shrine. + + AMESBURY, 11th mo., 1847. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +The edition of my poems published in 1857 contained the following note +by way of preface:-- + +"In these volumes, for the first time, a complete collection of my +poetical writings has been made. While it is satisfactory to know that +these scattered children of my brain have found a home, I cannot but +regret that I have been unable, by reason of illness, to give that +attention to their revision and arrangement, which respect for the +opinions of others and my own afterthought and experience demand. + +"That there are pieces in this collection which I would 'willingly let +die,' I am free to confess. But it is now too late to disown them, and I +must submit to the inevitable penalty of poetical as well as other sins. +There are others, intimately connected with the author's life and times, +which owe their tenacity of vitality to the circumstances under which +they were written, and the events by which they were suggested. + +"The long poem of Mogg Megone was in a great measure composed in early +life; and it is scarcely necessary to say that its subject is not such +as the writer would have chosen at any subsequent period." + +After a lapse of thirty years since the above was written, I have been +requested by my publishers to make some preparation for a new and +revised edition of my poems. I cannot flatter myself that I have added +much to the interest of the work beyond the correction of my own errors +and those of the press, with the addition of a few heretofore +unpublished pieces, and occasional notes of explanation which seemed +necessary. I have made an attempt to classify the poems under a few +general heads, and have transferred the long poem of Mogg Megone to the +Appendix, with other specimens of my earlier writings. I have endeavored +to affix the dates of composition or publication as far as possible. + +In looking over these poems I have not been unmindful of occasional +prosaic lines and verbal infelicities, but at this late day I have +neither strength nor patience to undertake their correction. + +Perhaps a word of explanation may be needed in regard to a class of +poems written between the years 1832 and 1865. Of their defects from an +artistic point of view it is not necessary to speak. They were the +earnest and often vehement expression of the writer's thought and +feeling at critical periods in the great conflict between Freedom and +Slavery. They were written with no expectation that they would survive +the occasions which called them forth: they were protests, alarm +signals, trumpet-calls to action, words wrung from the writer's heart, +forged at white heat, and of course lacking the finish and careful +word-selection which reflection and patient brooding over them might +have given. Such as they are, they belong to the history of the +Anti-Slavery movement, and may serve as way-marks of its progress. If +their language at times seems severe and harsh, the monstrous wrong of +Slavery which provoked it must be its excuse, if any is needed. In +attacking it, we did not measure our words. "It is," said Garrison, +"a waste of politeness to be courteous to the devil." But in truth the +contest was, in a great measure, an impersonal one,--hatred of slavery +and not of slave-masters. + + "No common wrong provoked our zeal, + The silken gauntlet which is thrown + In such a quarrel rings like steel." + +Even Thomas Jefferson, in his terrible denunciation of Slavery in the +Notes on Virginia, says "It is impossible to be temperate and pursue the +subject of Slavery." After the great contest was over, no class of the +American people were more ready, with kind words and deprecation of +harsh retaliation, to welcome back the revolted States than the +Abolitionists; and none have since more heartily rejoiced at the fast +increasing prosperity of the South. + +Grateful for the measure of favor which has been accorded to my +writings, I leave this edition with the public. It contains all that I +care to re-publish, and some things which, had the matter of choice been +left solely to myself, I should have omitted. + J. G. W. + + + + + +NARRATIVE AND LEGENDARY POEMS + + + + +THE VAUDOIS TEACHER. + +This poem was suggested by the account given of the manner which the +Waldenses disseminated their principles among the Catholic gentry. They +gained access to the house through their occupation as peddlers of +silks, jewels, and trinkets. "Having disposed of some of their goods," +it is said by a writer who quotes the inquisitor Rainerus Sacco, "they +cautiously intimated that they had commodities far more valuable than +these, inestimable jewels, which they would show if they could be +protected from the clergy. They would then give their purchasers a Bible +or Testament; and thereby many were deluded into heresy." The poem, +under the title Le Colporteur Vaudois, was translated into French by +Professor G. de Felice, of Montauban, and further naturalized by +Professor Alexandre Rodolphe Vinet, who quoted it in his lectures on +French literature, afterwards published. It became familiar in this form +to the Waldenses, who adopted it as a household poem. An American +clergyman, J. C. Fletcher, frequently heard it when he was a student, +about the year 1850, in the theological seminary at Geneva, Switzerland, +but the authorship of the poem was unknown to those who used it. +Twenty-five years later, Mr. Fletcher, learning the name of the author, +wrote to the moderator of the Waldensian synod at La Tour, giving the +information. At the banquet which closed the meeting of the synod, the +moderator announced the fact, and was instructed in the name of the +Waldensian church to write to me a letter of thanks. My letter, written +in reply, was translated into Italian and printed throughout Italy. + + "O LADY fair, these silks of mine + are beautiful and rare,-- + The richest web of the Indian loom, which beauty's + queen might wear; + And my pearls are pure as thy own fair neck, with whose + radiant light they vie; + I have brought them with me a weary way,--will my + gentle lady buy?" + + The lady smiled on the worn old man through the + dark and clustering curls + Which veiled her brow, as she bent to view his + silks and glittering pearls; + And she placed their price in the old man's hand + and lightly turned away, + But she paused at the wanderer's earnest call,-- + "My gentle lady, stay! + + "O lady fair, I have yet a gem which a purer + lustre flings, + Than the diamond flash of the jewelled crown on + the lofty brow of kings; + A wonderful pearl of exceeding price, whose virtue + shall not decay, + Whose light shall be as a spell to thee and a + blessing on thy way!" + + The lady glanced at the mirroring steel where her + form of grace was seen, + Where her eye shone clear, and her dark locks + waved their clasping pearls between; + "Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth, thou + traveller gray and old, + And name the price of thy precious gem, and my + page shall count thy gold." + + The cloud went off from the pilgrim's brow, as a + small and meagre book, + Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his + folding robe he took! + "Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, may it prove + as such to thee + Nay, keep thy gold--I ask it not, for the word of + God is free!" + + The hoary traveller went his way, but the gift he + left behind + Hath had its pure and perfect work on that high- + born maiden's mind, + And she hath turned from the pride of sin to the + lowliness of truth, + And given her human heart to God in its beautiful + hour of youth + + And she hath left the gray old halls, where an evil + faith had power, + The courtly knights of her father's train, and the + maidens of her bower; + And she hath gone to the Vaudois vales by lordly + feet untrod, + Where the poor and needy of earth are rich in the + perfect love of God! + 1830. + + + + +THE FEMALE MARTYR. + +Mary G-----, aged eighteen, a "Sister of Charity," died in one of our +Atlantic cities, during the prevalence of the Indian cholera, while +in voluntary attendance upon the sick. + + + "BRING out your dead!" The midnight street + Heard and gave back the hoarse, low call; + Harsh fell the tread of hasty feet, + Glanced through the dark the coarse white sheet, + Her coffin and her pall. + "What--only one!" the brutal hack-man said, + As, with an oath, he spurned away the dead. + + How sunk the inmost hearts of all, + As rolled that dead-cart slowly by, + With creaking wheel and harsh hoof-fall! + The dying turned him to the wall, + To hear it and to die! + Onward it rolled; while oft its driver stayed, + And hoarsely clamored, "Ho! bring out your dead." + + It paused beside the burial-place; + "Toss in your load!" and it was done. + With quick hand and averted face, + Hastily to the grave's embrace + They cast them, one by one, + Stranger and friend, the evil and the just, + Together trodden in the churchyard dust. + + And thou, young martyr! thou wast there; + No white-robed sisters round thee trod, + Nor holy hymn, nor funeral prayer + Rose through the damp and noisome air, + Giving thee to thy God; + Nor flower, nor cross, nor hallowed taper gave + Grace to the dead, and beauty to the grave! + + Yet, gentle sufferer! there shall be, + In every heart of kindly feeling, + A rite as holy paid to thee + As if beneath the convent-tree + Thy sisterhood were kneeling, + At vesper hours, like sorrowing angels, keeping + Their tearful watch around thy place of sleeping. + + For thou wast one in whom the light + Of Heaven's own love was kindled well; + Enduring with a martyr's might, + Through weary day and wakeful night, + Far more than words may tell + Gentle, and meek, and lowly, and unknown, + Thy mercies measured by thy God alone! + + Where manly hearts were failing, where + The throngful street grew foul with death, + O high-souled martyr! thou wast there, + Inhaling, from the loathsome air, + Poison with every breath. + Yet shrinking not from offices of dread + For the wrung dying, and the unconscious dead. + + And, where the sickly taper shed + Its light through vapors, damp, confined, + Hushed as a seraph's fell thy tread, + A new Electra by the bed + Of suffering human-kind! + Pointing the spirit, in its dark dismay, + To that pure hope which fadeth not away. + + Innocent teacher of the high + And holy mysteries of Heaven! + How turned to thee each glazing eye, + In mute and awful sympathy, + As thy low prayers were given; + And the o'er-hovering Spoiler wore, the while, + An angel's features, a deliverer's smile! + + A blessed task! and worthy one + Who, turning from the world, as thou, + Before life's pathway had begun + To leave its spring-time flower and sun, + Had sealed her early vow; + Giving to God her beauty and her youth, + Her pure affections and her guileless truth. + + Earth may not claim thee. Nothing here + Could be for thee a meet reward; + Thine is a treasure far more dear + Eye hath not seen it, nor the ear + Of living mortal heard + The joys prepared, the promised bliss above, + The holy presence of Eternal Love! + + Sleep on in peace. The earth has not + A nobler name than thine shall be. + The deeds by martial manhood wrought, + The lofty energies of thought, + The fire of poesy, + These have but frail and fading honors; thine + Shall Time unto Eternity consign. + + Yea, and when thrones shall crumble down, + And human pride and grandeur fall, + The herald's line of long renown, + The mitre and the kingly crown,-- + Perishing glories all! + The pure devotion of thy generous heart + Shall live in Heaven, of which it was a part. + 1833. + + + + +EXTRACT FROM "A NEW ENGLAND LEGEND." + +(Originally a part of the author's Moll Pitcher.) + + + How has New England's romance fled, + Even as a vision of the morning! + Its rites foredone, its guardians dead, + Its priestesses, bereft of dread, + Waking the veriest urchin's scorning! + Gone like the Indian wizard's yell + And fire-dance round the magic rock, + Forgotten like the Druid's spell + At moonrise by his holy oak! + No more along the shadowy glen + Glide the dim ghosts of murdered men; + No more the unquiet churchyard dead + Glimpse upward from their turfy bed, + Startling the traveller, late and lone; + As, on some night of starless weather, + They silently commune together, + Each sitting on his own head-stone + The roofless house, decayed, deserted, + Its living tenants all departed, + No longer rings with midnight revel + Of witch, or ghost, or goblin evil; + No pale blue flame sends out its flashes + Through creviced roof and shattered sashes! + The witch-grass round the hazel spring + May sharply to the night-air sing, + But there no more shall withered hags + Refresh at ease their broomstick nags, + Or taste those hazel-shadowed waters + As beverage meet for Satan's daughters; + No more their mimic tones be heard, + The mew of cat, the chirp of bird, + Shrill blending with the hoarser laughter + Of the fell demon following after! + The cautious goodman nails no more + A horseshoe on his outer door, + Lest some unseemly hag should fit + To his own mouth her bridle-bit; + The goodwife's churn no more refuses + Its wonted culinary uses + Until, with heated needle burned, + The witch has to her place returned! + Our witches are no longer old + And wrinkled beldames, Satan-sold, + But young and gay and laughing creatures, + With the heart's sunshine on their features; + Their sorcery--the light which dances + Where the raised lid unveils its glances; + Or that low-breathed and gentle tone, + The music of Love's twilight hours, + Soft, dream-like, as a fairy's moan + Above her nightly closing flowers, + Sweeter than that which sighed of yore + Along the charmed Ausonian shore! + Even she, our own weird heroine, + Sole Pythoness of ancient Lynn,' + Sleeps calmly where the living laid her; + And the wide realm of sorcery, + Left by its latest mistress free, + Hath found no gray and skilled invader. + So--perished Albion's "glammarye," + With him in Melrose Abbey sleeping, + His charmed torch beside his knee, + That even the dead himself might see + The magic scroll within his keeping. + And now our modern Yankee sees + Nor omens, spells, nor mysteries; + And naught above, below, around, + Of life or death, of sight or sound, + Whate'er its nature, form, or look, + Excites his terror or surprise, + All seeming to his knowing eyes + Familiar as his "catechise," + Or "Webster's Spelling-Book." + + 1833. + + + + +THE DEMON OF THE STUDY. + + THE Brownie sits in the Scotchman's room, + And eats his meat and drinks his ale, + And beats the maid with her unused broom, + And the lazy lout with his idle flail; + But he sweeps the floor and threshes the corn, + And hies him away ere the break of dawn. + + The shade of Denmark fled from the sun, + And the Cocklane ghost from the barn-loft cheer, + The fiend of Faust was a faithful one, + Agrippa's demon wrought in fear, + And the devil of Martin Luther sat + By the stout monk's side in social chat. + + The Old Man of the Sea, on the neck of him + Who seven times crossed the deep, + Twined closely each lean and withered limb, + Like the nightmare in one's sleep. + But he drank of the wine, and Sindbad cast + The evil weight from his back at last. + + But the demon that cometh day by day + To my quiet room and fireside nook, + Where the casement light falls dim and gray + On faded painting and ancient book, + Is a sorrier one than any whose names + Are chronicled well by good King James. + + No bearer of burdens like Caliban, + No runner of errands like Ariel, + He comes in the shape of a fat old man, + Without rap of knuckle or pull of bell; + And whence he comes, or whither he goes, + I know as I do of the wind which blows. + + A stout old man with a greasy hat + Slouched heavily down to his dark, red nose, + And two gray eyes enveloped in fat, + Looking through glasses with iron bows. + Read ye, and heed ye, and ye who can, + Guard well your doors from that old man! + + He comes with a careless "How d' ye do?" + And seats himself in my elbow-chair; + And my morning paper and pamphlet new + Fall forthwith under his special care, + And he wipes his glasses and clears his throat, + And, button by button, unfolds his coat. + + And then he reads from paper and book, + In a low and husky asthmatic tone, + With the stolid sameness of posture and look + Of one who reads to himself alone; + And hour after hour on my senses come + That husky wheeze and that dolorous hum. + + The price of stocks, the auction sales, + The poet's song and the lover's glee, + The horrible murders, the seaboard gales, + The marriage list, and the jeu d'esprit, + All reach my ear in the self-same tone,-- + I shudder at each, but the fiend reads on! + + Oh, sweet as the lapse of water at noon + O'er the mossy roots of some forest tree, + The sigh of the wind in the woods of June, + Or sound of flutes o'er a moonlight sea, + Or the low soft music, perchance, which seems + To float through the slumbering singer's dreams, + + So sweet, so dear is the silvery tone, + Of her in whose features I sometimes look, + As I sit at eve by her side alone, + And we read by turns, from the self-same book, + Some tale perhaps of the olden time, + Some lover's romance or quaint old rhyme. + + Then when the story is one of woe,-- + Some prisoner's plaint through his dungeon-bar, + Her blue eye glistens with tears, and low + Her voice sinks down like a moan afar; + And I seem to hear that prisoner's wail, + And his face looks on me worn and pale. + + And when she reads some merrier song, + Her voice is glad as an April bird's, + And when the tale is of war and wrong, + A trumpet's summons is in her words, + And the rush of the hosts I seem to hear, + And see the tossing of plume and spear! + + Oh, pity me then, when, day by day, + The stout fiend darkens my parlor door; + And reads me perchance the self-same lay + Which melted in music, the night before, + From lips as the lips of Hylas sweet, + And moved like twin roses which zephyrs meet! + + I cross my floor with a nervous tread, + I whistle and laugh and sing and shout, + I flourish my cane above his head, + And stir up the fire to roast him out; + I topple the chairs, and drum on the pane, + And press my hands on my ears, in vain! + + I've studied Glanville and James the wise, + And wizard black-letter tomes which treat + Of demons of every name and size + Which a Christian man is presumed to meet, + But never a hint and never a line + Can I find of a reading fiend like mine. + + I've crossed the Psalter with Brady and Tate, + And laid the Primer above them all, + I've nailed a horseshoe over the grate, + And hung a wig to my parlor wall + Once worn by a learned Judge, they say, + At Salem court in the witchcraft day! + + "Conjuro te, sceleratissime, + Abire ad tuum locum!"--still + Like a visible nightmare he sits by me,-- + The exorcism has lost its skill; + And I hear again in my haunted room + The husky wheeze and the dolorous hum! + + Ah! commend me to Mary Magdalen + With her sevenfold plagues, to the wandering Jew, + To the terrors which haunted Orestes when + The furies his midnight curtains drew, + But charm him off, ye who charm him can, + That reading demon, that fat old man! + + 1835. + + + + +THE FOUNTAIN. + +On the declivity of a hill in Salisbury, Essex County, is a fountain of +clear water, gushing from the very roots of a venerable oak. It is about +two miles from the junction of the Powow River with the Merrimac. + + TRAVELLER! on thy journey toiling + By the swift Powow, + With the summer sunshine falling + On thy heated brow, + Listen, while all else is still, + To the brooklet from the hill. + + Wild and sweet the flowers are blowing + By that streamlet's side, + And a greener verdure showing + Where its waters glide, + Down the hill-slope murmuring on, + Over root and mossy stone. + + Where yon oak his broad arms flingeth + O'er the sloping hill, + Beautiful and freshly springeth + That soft-flowing rill, + Through its dark roots wreathed and bare, + Gushing up to sun and air. + + Brighter waters sparkled never + In that magic well, + Of whose gift of life forever + Ancient legends tell, + In the lonely desert wasted, + And by mortal lip untasted. + + Waters which the proud Castilian + Sought with longing eyes, + Underneath the bright pavilion + Of the Indian skies, + Where his forest pathway lay + Through the blooms of Florida. + + Years ago a lonely stranger, + With the dusky brow + Of the outcast forest-ranger, + Crossed the swift Powow, + And betook him to the rill + And the oak upon the hill. + + O'er his face of moody sadness + For an instant shone + Something like a gleam of gladness, + As he stooped him down + To the fountain's grassy side, + And his eager thirst supplied. + + With the oak its shadow throwing + O'er his mossy seat, + And the cool, sweet waters flowing + Softly at his feet, + Closely by the fountain's rim + That lone Indian seated him. + + Autumn's earliest frost had given + To the woods below + Hues of beauty, such as heaven + Lendeth to its bow; + And the soft breeze from the west + Scarcely broke their dreamy rest. + + Far behind was Ocean striving + With his chains of sand; + Southward, sunny glimpses giving, + 'Twixt the swells of land, + Of its calm and silvery track, + Rolled the tranquil Merrimac. + + Over village, wood, and meadow + Gazed that stranger man, + Sadly, till the twilight shadow + Over all things ran, + Save where spire and westward pane + Flashed the sunset back again. + + Gazing thus upon the dwelling + Of his warrior sires, + Where no lingering trace was telling + Of their wigwam fires, + Who the gloomy thoughts might know + Of that wandering child of woe? + + Naked lay, in sunshine glowing, + Hills that once had stood + Down their sides the shadows throwing + Of a mighty wood, + Where the deer his covert kept, + And the eagle's pinion swept! + + Where the birch canoe had glided + Down the swift Powow, + Dark and gloomy bridges strided + Those clear waters now; + And where once the beaver swam, + Jarred the wheel and frowned the dam. + + For the wood-bird's merry singing, + And the hunter's cheer, + Iron clang and hammer's ringing + Smote upon his ear; + And the thick and sullen smoke + From the blackened forges broke. + + Could it be his fathers ever + Loved to linger here? + These bare hills, this conquered river,-- + Could they hold them dear, + With their native loveliness + Tamed and tortured into this? + + Sadly, as the shades of even + Gathered o'er the hill, + While the western half of heaven + Blushed with sunset still, + From the fountain's mossy seat + Turned the Indian's weary feet. + + Year on year hath flown forever, + But he came no more + To the hillside on the river + Where he came before. + But the villager can tell + Of that strange man's visit well. + + And the merry children, laden + With their fruits or flowers, + Roving boy and laughing maiden, + In their school-day hours, + Love the simple tale to tell + Of the Indian and his well. + + 1837 + + + + +PENTUCKET. + +The village of Haverhill, on the Merrimac, called by the Indians +Pentucket, was for nearly seventeen years a frontier town, and during +thirty years endured all the horrors of savage warfare. In the year +1708, a combined body of French and Indians, under the command of De +Chaillons, and Hertel de Rouville, the famous and bloody sacker of +Deerfield, made an attack upon the village, which at that time contained +only thirty houses. Sixteen of the villagers were massacred, and a still +larger number made prisoners. About thirty of the enemy also fell, among +them Hertel de Rouville. The minister of the place, Benjamin Rolfe, was +killed by a shot through his own door. In a paper entitled The Border +War of 1708, published in my collection of Recreations and Miscellanies, +I have given a prose narrative of the surprise of Haverhill. + + + How sweetly on the wood-girt town + The mellow light of sunset shone! + Each small, bright lake, whose waters still + Mirror the forest and the hill, + Reflected from its waveless breast + The beauty of a cloudless west, + Glorious as if a glimpse were given + Within the western gates of heaven, + Left, by the spirit of the star + Of sunset's holy hour, ajar! + + Beside the river's tranquil flood + The dark and low-walled dwellings stood, + Where many a rood of open land + Stretched up and down on either hand, + With corn-leaves waving freshly green + The thick and blackened stumps between. + Behind, unbroken, deep and dread, + The wild, untravelled forest spread, + Back to those mountains, white and cold, + Of which the Indian trapper told, + Upon whose summits never yet + Was mortal foot in safety set. + + Quiet and calm without a fear, + Of danger darkly lurking near, + The weary laborer left his plough, + The milkmaid carolled by her cow; + From cottage door and household hearth + Rose songs of praise, or tones of mirth. + + At length the murmur died away, + And silence on that village lay. + --So slept Pompeii, tower and hall, + Ere the quick earthquake swallowed all, + Undreaming of the fiery fate + Which made its dwellings desolate. + + Hours passed away. By moonlight sped + The Merrimac along his bed. + Bathed in the pallid lustre, stood + Dark cottage-wall and rock and wood, + Silent, beneath that tranquil beam, + As the hushed grouping of a dream. + Yet on the still air crept a sound, + No bark of fox, nor rabbit's bound, + Nor stir of wings, nor waters flowing, + Nor leaves in midnight breezes blowing. + + Was that the tread of many feet, + Which downward from the hillside beat? + What forms were those which darkly stood + Just on the margin of the wood?-- + Charred tree-stumps in the moonlight dim, + Or paling rude, or leafless limb? + No,--through the trees fierce eyeballs glowed, + Dark human forms in moonshine showed, + Wild from their native wilderness, + With painted limbs and battle-dress. + + A yell the dead might wake to hear + Swelled on the night air, far and clear; + Then smote the Indian tomahawk + On crashing door and shattering lock; + + Then rang the rifle-shot, and then + The shrill death-scream of stricken men,-- + Sank the red axe in woman's brain, + And childhood's cry arose in vain. + Bursting through roof and window came, + Red, fast, and fierce, the kindled flame, + And blended fire and moonlight glared + On still dead men and scalp-knives bared. + + The morning sun looked brightly through + The river willows, wet with dew. + No sound of combat filled the air, + No shout was heard, nor gunshot there; + Yet still the thick and sullen smoke + From smouldering ruins slowly broke; + And on the greensward many a stain, + And, here and there, the mangled slain, + Told how that midnight bolt had sped + Pentucket, on thy fated head. + + Even now the villager can tell + Where Rolfe beside his hearthstone fell, + Still show the door of wasting oak, + Through which the fatal death-shot broke, + And point the curious stranger where + De Rouville's corse lay grim and bare; + Whose hideous head, in death still feared, + Bore not a trace of hair or beard; + And still, within the churchyard ground, + Heaves darkly up the ancient mound, + Whose grass-grown surface overlies + The victims of that sacrifice. + 1838. + + + + +THE NORSEMEN. + +In the early part of the present century, a fragment of a statue, rudely +chiselled from dark gray stone, was found in the town of Bradford, on +the Merrimac. Its origin must be left entirely to conjecture. The fact +that the ancient Northmen visited the north-east coast of North America +and probably New England, some centuries before the discovery of the +western world by Columbus, is very generally admitted. + + GIFT from the cold and silent Past! + A relic to the present cast, + Left on the ever-changing strand + Of shifting and unstable sand, + Which wastes beneath the steady chime + And beating of the waves of Time! + Who from its bed of primal rock + First wrenched thy dark, unshapely block? + Whose hand, of curious skill untaught, + Thy rude and savage outline wrought? + + The waters of my native stream + Are glancing in the sun's warm beam; + From sail-urged keel and flashing oar + The circles widen to its shore; + And cultured field and peopled town + Slope to its willowed margin down. + Yet, while this morning breeze is bringing + The home-life sound of school-bells ringing, + And rolling wheel, and rapid jar + Of the fire-winged and steedless car, + And voices from the wayside near + Come quick and blended on my ear,-- + A spell is in this old gray stone, + My thoughts are with the Past alone! + + A change!--The steepled town no more + Stretches along the sail-thronged shore; + Like palace-domes in sunset's cloud, + Fade sun-gilt spire and mansion proud + Spectrally rising where they stood, + I see the old, primeval wood; + Dark, shadow-like, on either hand + I see its solemn waste expand; + It climbs the green and cultured hill, + It arches o'er the valley's rill, + And leans from cliff and crag to throw + Its wild arms o'er the stream below. + Unchanged, alone, the same bright river + Flows on, as it will flow forever + I listen, and I hear the low + Soft ripple where its waters go; + I hear behind the panther's cry, + The wild-bird's scream goes thrilling by, + And shyly on the river's brink + The deer is stooping down to drink. + + But hark!--from wood and rock flung back, + What sound comes up the Merrimac? + What sea-worn barks are those which throw + The light spray from each rushing prow? + Have they not in the North Sea's blast + Bowed to the waves the straining mast? + Their frozen sails the low, pale sun + Of Thule's night has shone upon; + Flapped by the sea-wind's gusty sweep + Round icy drift, and headland steep. + Wild Jutland's wives and Lochlin's daughters + Have watched them fading o'er the waters, + Lessening through driving mist and spray, + Like white-winged sea-birds on their way! + + Onward they glide,--and now I view + Their iron-armed and stalwart crew; + Joy glistens in each wild blue eye, + Turned to green earth and summer sky. + Each broad, seamed breast has cast aside + Its cumbering vest of shaggy hide; + Bared to the sun and soft warm air, + Streams back the Norsemen's yellow hair. + I see the gleam of axe and spear, + The sound of smitten shields I hear, + Keeping a harsh and fitting time + To Saga's chant, and Runic rhyme; + Such lays as Zetland's Scald has sung, + His gray and naked isles among; + Or muttered low at midnight hour + Round Odin's mossy stone of power. + The wolf beneath the Arctic moon + Has answered to that startling rune; + The Gael has heard its stormy swell, + The light Frank knows its summons well; + Iona's sable-stoled Culdee + Has heard it sounding o'er the sea, + And swept, with hoary beard and hair, + His altar's foot in trembling prayer. + + 'T is past,--the 'wildering vision dies + In darkness on my dreaming eyes + The forest vanishes in air, + Hill-slope and vale lie starkly bare; + I hear the common tread of men, + And hum of work-day life again; + + The mystic relic seems alone + A broken mass of common stone; + And if it be the chiselled limb + Of Berserker or idol grim, + A fragment of Valhalla's Thor, + The stormy Viking's god of War, + Or Praga of the Runic lay, + Or love-awakening Siona, + I know not,--for no graven line, + Nor Druid mark, nor Runic sign, + Is left me here, by which to trace + Its name, or origin, or place. + Yet, for this vision of the Past, + This glance upon its darkness cast, + My spirit bows in gratitude + Before the Giver of all good, + Who fashioned so the human mind, + That, from the waste of Time behind, + A simple stone, or mound of earth, + Can summon the departed forth; + Quicken the Past to life again, + The Present lose in what hath been, + And in their primal freshness show + The buried forms of long ago. + As if a portion of that Thought + By which the Eternal will is wrought, + Whose impulse fills anew with breath + The frozen solitude of Death, + To mortal mind were sometimes lent, + To mortal musings sometimes sent, + To whisper-even when it seems + But Memory's fantasy of dreams-- + Through the mind's waste of woe and sin, + Of an immortal origin! + + 1841. + + + + +FUNERAL TREE OF THE SOKOKIS. + +Polan, chief of the Sokokis Indians of the country between Agamenticus +and Casco Bay, was killed at Windham on Sebago Lake in the spring of +1756. After the whites had retired, the surviving Indians "swayed" or +bent down a young tree until its roots were upturned, placed the body of +their chief beneath it, then released the tree, which, in springing back +to its old position, covered the grave. The Sokokis were early converts +to the Catholic faith. Most of them, prior to the year 1756, had removed +to the French settlements on the St. Francois. + + AROUND Sebago's lonely lake + There lingers not a breeze to break + The mirror which its waters make. + + The solemn pines along its shore, + The firs which hang its gray rocks o'er, + Are painted on its glassy floor. + + The sun looks o'er, with hazy eye, + The snowy mountain-tops which lie + Piled coldly up against the sky. + + Dazzling and white! save where the bleak, + Wild winds have bared some splintering peak, + Or snow-slide left its dusky streak. + + Yet green are Saco's banks below, + And belts of spruce and cedar show, + Dark fringing round those cones of snow. + + The earth hath felt the breath of spring, + Though yet on her deliverer's wing + The lingering frosts of winter cling. + + Fresh grasses fringe the meadow-brooks, + And mildly from its sunny nooks + The blue eye of the violet looks. + + And odors from the springing grass, + The sweet birch and the sassafras, + Upon the scarce-felt breezes pass. + + Her tokens of renewing care + Hath Nature scattered everywhere, + In bud and flower, and warmer air. + + But in their hour of bitterness, + What reek the broken Sokokis, + Beside their slaughtered chief, of this? + + The turf's red stain is yet undried, + Scarce have the death-shot echoes died + Along Sebago's wooded side; + + And silent now the hunters stand, + Grouped darkly, where a swell of land + Slopes upward from the lake's white sand. + + Fire and the axe have swept it bare, + Save one lone beech, unclosing there + Its light leaves in the vernal air. + + With grave, cold looks, all sternly mute, + They break the damp turf at its foot, + And bare its coiled and twisted root. + + They heave the stubborn trunk aside, + The firm roots from the earth divide,-- + The rent beneath yawns dark and wide. + + And there the fallen chief is laid, + In tasselled garb of skins arrayed, + And girded with his wampum-braid. + + The silver cross he loved is pressed + Beneath the heavy arms, which rest + Upon his scarred and naked breast. + + 'T is done: the roots are backward sent, + The beechen-tree stands up unbent, + The Indian's fitting monument! + + When of that sleeper's broken race + Their green and pleasant dwelling-place, + Which knew them once, retains no trace; + + Oh, long may sunset's light be shed + As now upon that beech's head, + A green memorial of the dead! + + There shall his fitting requiem be, + In northern winds, that, cold and free, + Howl nightly in that funeral tree. + + To their wild wail the waves which break + Forever round that lonely lake + A solemn undertone shall make! + + And who shall deem the spot unblest, + Where Nature's younger children rest, + Lulled on their sorrowing mother's breast? + + Deem ye that mother loveth less + These bronzed forms of the wilderness + She foldeth in her long caress? + + As sweet o'er them her wild-flowers blow, + As if with fairer hair and brow + The blue-eyed Saxon slept below. + + What though the places of their rest + No priestly knee hath ever pressed,-- + No funeral rite nor prayer hath blessed? + + What though the bigot's ban be there, + And thoughts of wailing and despair, + And cursing in the place of prayer. + + Yet Heaven hath angels watching round + The Indian's lowliest forest-mound,-- + And they have made it holy ground. + + There ceases man's frail judgment; all + His powerless bolts of cursing fall + Unheeded on that grassy pall. + + O peeled and hunted and reviled, + Sleep on, dark tenant of the wild! + Great Nature owns her simple child! + + And Nature's God, to whom alone + The secret of the heart is known,-- + The hidden language traced thereon; + + Who from its many cumberings + Of form and creed, and outward things, + To light the naked spirit brings; + + Not with our partial eye shall scan, + Not with our pride and scorn shall ban, + The spirit of our brother man! + 1841. + + + + +ST. JOHN. + +The fierce rivalry between Charles de La Tour, a Protestant, and +D'Aulnay Charnasy, a Catholic, for the possession of Acadia, forms one +of the most romantic passages in the history of the New World. La Tour +received aid in several instances from the Puritan colony of +Massachusetts. During one of his voyages for the purpose of obtaining +arms and provisions for his establishment at St. John, his castle was +attacked by D'Aulnay, and successfully defended by its high-spirited +mistress. A second attack however followed in the fourth month, 1647, +when D'Aulnay was successful, and the garrison was put to the sword. +Lady La Tour languished a few days in the hands of her enemy, and then +died of grief. + + "To the winds give our banner! + Bear homeward again!" + Cried the Lord of Acadia, + Cried Charles of Estienne; + From the prow of his shallop + He gazed, as the sun, + From its bed in the ocean, + Streamed up the St. John. + + O'er the blue western waters + That shallop had passed, + Where the mists of Penobscot + Clung damp on her mast. + St. Saviour had looked + On the heretic sail, + As the songs of the Huguenot + Rose on the gale. + + The pale, ghostly fathers + Remembered her well, + And had cursed her while passing, + With taper and bell; + But the men of Monhegan, + Of Papists abhorred, + Had welcomed and feasted + The heretic Lord. + + They had loaded his shallop + With dun-fish and ball, + With stores for his larder, + And steel for his wall. + Pemaquid, from her bastions + And turrets of stone, + Had welcomed his coming + With banner and gun. + + And the prayers of the elders + Had followed his way, + As homeward he glided, + Down Pentecost Bay. + Oh, well sped La Tour + For, in peril and pain, + His lady kept watch, + For his coming again. + + O'er the Isle of the Pheasant + The morning sun shone, + On the plane-trees which shaded + The shores of St. John. + "Now, why from yon battlements + Speaks not my love! + Why waves there no banner + My fortress above?" + + Dark and wild, from his deck + St. Estienne gazed about, + On fire-wasted dwellings, + And silent redoubt; + From the low, shattered walls + Which the flame had o'errun, + There floated no banner, + There thundered no gun! + + But beneath the low arch + Of its doorway there stood + A pale priest of Rome, + In his cloak and his hood. + With the bound of a lion, + La Tour sprang to land, + On the throat of the Papist + He fastened his hand. + + "Speak, son of the Woman + Of scarlet and sin! + What wolf has been prowling + My castle within?" + From the grasp of the soldier + The Jesuit broke, + Half in scorn, half in sorrow, + He smiled as he spoke: + + "No wolf, Lord of Estienne, + Has ravaged thy hall, + But thy red-handed rival, + With fire, steel, and ball! + On an errand of mercy + I hitherward came, + While the walls of thy castle + Yet spouted with flame. + + "Pentagoet's dark vessels + Were moored in the bay, + Grim sea-lions, roaring + Aloud for their prey." + "But what of my lady?" + Cried Charles of Estienne. + "On the shot-crumbled turret + Thy lady was seen: + + "Half-veiled in the smoke-cloud, + Her hand grasped thy pennon, + While her dark tresses swayed + In the hot breath of cannon! + But woe to the heretic, + Evermore woe! + When the son of the church + And the cross is his foe! + + "In the track of the shell, + In the path of the ball, + Pentagoet swept over + The breach of the wall! + Steel to steel, gun to gun, + One moment,--and then + Alone stood the victor, + Alone with his men! + + "Of its sturdy defenders, + Thy lady alone + Saw the cross-blazoned banner + Float over St. John." + "Let the dastard look to it!" + Cried fiery Estienne, + "Were D'Aulnay King Louis, + I'd free her again!" + + "Alas for thy lady! + No service from thee + Is needed by her + Whom the Lord hath set free; + Nine days, in stern silence, + Her thraldom she bore, + But the tenth morning came, + And Death opened her door!" + + As if suddenly smitten + La Tour staggered back; + His hand grasped his sword-hilt, + His forehead grew black. + He sprang on the deck + Of his shallop again. + "We cruise now for vengeance! + Give way!" cried Estienne. + + "Massachusetts shall hear + Of the Huguenot's wrong, + And from island and creekside + Her fishers shall throng! + Pentagoet shall rue + What his Papists have done, + When his palisades echo + The Puritan's gun!" + + Oh, the loveliest of heavens + Hung tenderly o'er him, + There were waves in the sunshine, + And green isles before him: + But a pale hand was beckoning + The Huguenot on; + And in blackness and ashes + Behind was St. John! + + 1841 + + + + +THE CYPRESS-TREE OF CEYLON. + +Ibn Batuta, the celebrated Mussulman traveller of the fourteenth +century, speaks of a cypress-tree in Ceylon, universally held sacred by +the natives, the leaves of which were said to fall only at certain +intervals, and he who had the happiness to find and eat one of them was +restored, at once, to youth and vigor. The traveller saw several +venerable Jogees, or saints, sitting silent and motionless under the +tree, patiently awaiting the falling of a leaf. + + THEY sat in silent watchfulness + The sacred cypress-tree about, + And, from beneath old wrinkled brows, + Their failing eyes looked out. + + Gray Age and Sickness waiting there + Through weary night and lingering day,-- + Grim as the idols at their side, + And motionless as they. + + Unheeded in the boughs above + The song of Ceylon's birds was sweet; + Unseen of them the island flowers + Bloomed brightly at their feet. + + O'er them the tropic night-storm swept, + The thunder crashed on rock and hill; + The cloud-fire on their eyeballs blazed, + Yet there they waited still! + + What was the world without to them? + The Moslem's sunset-call, the dance + Of Ceylon's maids, the passing gleam + Of battle-flag and lance? + + They waited for that falling leaf + Of which the wandering Jogees sing: + Which lends once more to wintry age + The greenness of its spring. + + Oh, if these poor and blinded ones + In trustful patience wait to feel + O'er torpid pulse and failing limb + A youthful freshness steal; + + Shall we, who sit beneath that Tree + Whose healing leaves of life are shed, + In answer to the breath of prayer, + Upon the waiting head; + + Not to restore our failing forms, + And build the spirit's broken shrine, + But on the fainting soul to shed + A light and life divine-- + + Shall we grow weary in our watch, + And murmur at the long delay? + Impatient of our Father's time + And His appointed way? + + Or shall the stir of outward things + Allure and claim the Christian's eye, + When on the heathen watcher's ear + Their powerless murmurs die? + + Alas! a deeper test of faith + Than prison cell or martyr's stake, + The self-abasing watchfulness + Of silent prayer may make. + + We gird us bravely to rebuke + Our erring brother in the wrong,-- + And in the ear of Pride and Power + Our warning voice is strong. + + Easier to smite with Peter's sword + Than "watch one hour" in humbling prayer. + Life's "great things," like the Syrian lord, + Our hearts can do and dare. + + But oh! we shrink from Jordan's side, + From waters which alone can save; + + And murmur for Abana's banks + And Pharpar's brighter wave. + + O Thou, who in the garden's shade + Didst wake Thy weary ones again, + Who slumbered at that fearful hour + Forgetful of Thy pain; + + Bend o'er us now, as over them, + And set our sleep-bound spirits free, + Nor leave us slumbering in the watch + Our souls should keep with Thee! + + 1841 + + + + +THE EXILES. + +The incidents upon which the following ballad has its foundation +about the year 1660. Thomas Macy was one of the first, if not the first +white settler of Nantucket. The career of Macy is briefly but carefully +outlined in James S. Pike's The New Puritan. + + THE goodman sat beside his door + One sultry afternoon, + With his young wife singing at his side + An old and goodly tune. + + A glimmer of heat was in the air,-- + The dark green woods were still; + And the skirts of a heavy thunder-cloud + Hung over the western hill. + + Black, thick, and vast arose that cloud + Above the wilderness, + + As some dark world from upper air + Were stooping over this. + + At times the solemn thunder pealed, + And all was still again, + Save a low murmur in the air + Of coming wind and rain. + + Just as the first big rain-drop fell, + A weary stranger came, + And stood before the farmer's door, + With travel soiled and lame. + + Sad seemed he, yet sustaining hope + Was in his quiet glance, + And peace, like autumn's moonlight, clothed + His tranquil countenance,-- + + A look, like that his Master wore + In Pilate's council-hall: + It told of wrongs, but of a love + Meekly forgiving all. + + "Friend! wilt thou give me shelter here?" + The stranger meekly said; + And, leaning on his oaken staff, + The goodman's features read. + + "My life is hunted,--evil men + Are following in my track; + The traces of the torturer's whip + Are on my aged back; + + "And much, I fear, 't will peril thee + Within thy doors to take + A hunted seeker of the Truth, + Oppressed for conscience' sake." + + Oh, kindly spoke the goodman's wife, + "Come in, old man!" quoth she, + "We will not leave thee to the storm, + Whoever thou mayst be." + + Then came the aged wanderer in, + And silent sat him down; + While all within grew dark as night + Beneath the storm-cloud's frown. + + But while the sudden lightning's blaze + Filled every cottage nook, + And with the jarring thunder-roll + The loosened casements shook, + + A heavy tramp of horses' feet + Came sounding up the lane, + And half a score of horse, or more, + Came plunging through the rain. + + "Now, Goodman Macy, ope thy door,-- + We would not be house-breakers; + A rueful deed thou'st done this day, + In harboring banished Quakers." + + Out looked the cautious goodman then, + With much of fear and awe, + For there, with broad wig drenched with rain + The parish priest he saw. + + Open thy door, thou wicked man, + And let thy pastor in, + And give God thanks, if forty stripes + Repay thy deadly sin." + + "What seek ye?" quoth the goodman; + "The stranger is my guest; + He is worn with toil and grievous wrong,-- + Pray let the old man rest." + + "Now, out upon thee, canting knave!" + And strong hands shook the door. + "Believe me, Macy," quoth the priest, + "Thou 'lt rue thy conduct sore." + + Then kindled Macy's eye of fire + "No priest who walks the earth, + Shall pluck away the stranger-guest + Made welcome to my hearth." + + Down from his cottage wall he caught + The matchlock, hotly tried + At Preston-pans and Marston-moor, + By fiery Ireton's side; + + Where Puritan, and Cavalier, + With shout and psalm contended; + And Rupert's oath, and Cromwell's prayer, + With battle-thunder blended. + + Up rose the ancient stranger then + "My spirit is not free + To bring the wrath and violence + Of evil men on thee; + + "And for thyself, I pray forbear, + Bethink thee of thy Lord, + Who healed again the smitten ear, + And sheathed His follower's sword. + + "I go, as to the slaughter led. + Friends of the poor, farewell!" + Beneath his hand the oaken door + Back on its hinges fell. + + "Come forth, old graybeard, yea and nay," + The reckless scoffers cried, + As to a horseman's saddle-bow + The old man's arms were tied. + + And of his bondage hard and long + In Boston's crowded jail, + Where suffering woman's prayer was heard, + With sickening childhood's wail, + + It suits not with our tale to tell; + Those scenes have passed away; + Let the dim shadows of the past + Brood o'er that evil day. + + "Ho, sheriff!" quoth the ardent priest, + "Take Goodman Macy too; + The sin of this day's heresy + His back or purse shall rue." + + "Now, goodwife, haste thee!" Macy cried. + She caught his manly arm; + Behind, the parson urged pursuit, + With outcry and alarm. + + Ho! speed the Macys, neck or naught,-- + The river-course was near; + The plashing on its pebbled shore + Was music to their ear. + + A gray rock, tasselled o'er with birch, + Above the waters hung, + And at its base, with every wave, + A small light wherry swung. + + A leap--they gain the boat--and there + The goodman wields his oar; + "Ill luck betide them all," he cried, + "The laggards on the shore." + + Down through the crashing underwood, + The burly sheriff came:-- + "Stand, Goodman Macy, yield thyself; + Yield in the King's own name." + + "Now out upon thy hangman's face!" + Bold Macy answered then,-- + "Whip women, on the village green, + But meddle not with men." + + The priest came panting to the shore, + His grave cocked hat was gone; + Behind him, like some owl's nest, hung + His wig upon a thorn. + + "Come back,--come back!" the parson cried, + "The church's curse beware." + "Curse, an' thou wilt," said Macy, "but + Thy blessing prithee spare." + + "Vile scoffer!" cried the baffled priest, + "Thou 'lt yet the gallows see." + "Who's born to be hanged will not be drowned," + Quoth Macy, merrily; + + "And so, sir sheriff and priest, good-by!" + He bent him to his oar, + And the small boat glided quietly + From the twain upon the shore. + + Now in the west, the heavy clouds + Scattered and fell asunder, + While feebler came the rush of rain, + And fainter growled the thunder. + + And through the broken clouds, the sun + Looked out serene and warm, + Painting its holy symbol-light + Upon the passing storm. + + Oh, beautiful! that rainbow span, + O'er dim Crane-neck was bended; + One bright foot touched the eastern hills, + And one with ocean blended. + + By green Pentucket's southern'slope + The small boat glided fast; + The watchers of the Block-house saw + The strangers as they passed. + + That night a stalwart garrison + Sat shaking in their shoes, + To hear the dip of Indian oars, + The glide of birch canoes. + + The fisher-wives of Salisbury-- + The men were all away-- + Looked out to see the stranger oar + Upon their waters play. + + Deer-Island's rocks and fir-trees threw + Their sunset-shadows o'er them, + And Newbury's spire and weathercock + Peered o'er the pines before them. + + Around the Black Rocks, on their left, + The marsh lay broad and green; + And on their right, with dwarf shrubs crowned, + Plum Island's hills were seen. + + With skilful hand and wary eye + The harbor-bar was crossed; + A plaything of the restless wave, + The boat on ocean tossed. + + The glory of the sunset heaven + On land and water lay; + On the steep hills of Agawam, + On cape, and bluff, and bay. + + They passed the gray rocks of Cape Ann, + And Gloucester's harbor-bar; + The watch-fire of the garrison + Shone like a setting star. + + How brightly broke the morning + On Massachusetts Bay! + Blue wave, and bright green island, + Rejoicing in the day. + + On passed the bark in safety + Round isle and headland steep; + No tempest broke above them, + No fog-cloud veiled the deep. + + Far round the bleak and stormy Cape + The venturous Macy passed, + And on Nantucket's naked isle + Drew up his boat at last. + + And how, in log-built cabin, + They braved the rough sea-weather; + And there, in peace and quietness, + Went down life's vale together; + + How others drew around them, + And how their fishing sped, + Until to every wind of heaven + Nantucket's sails were spread; + + How pale Want alternated + With Plenty's golden smile; + Behold, is it not written + In the annals of the isle? + + And yet that isle remaineth + A refuge of the free, + As when true-hearted Macy + Beheld it from the sea. + + Free as the winds that winnow + Her shrubless hills of sand, + Free as the waves that batter + Along her yielding land. + + Than hers, at duty's summons, + No loftier spirit stirs, + Nor falls o'er human suffering + A readier tear then hers. + + God bless the sea-beat island! + And grant forevermore, + That charity and freedom dwell + As now upon her shore! + + 1841. + + + + +THE KNIGHT OF ST. JOHN. + + ERE down yon blue Carpathian hills + The sun shall sink again, + Farewell to life and all its ills, + Farewell to cell and chain! + + These prison shades are dark and cold, + But, darker far than they, + The shadow of a sorrow old + Is on my heart alway. + + For since the day when Warkworth wood + Closed o'er my steed, and I, + An alien from my name and blood, + A weed cast out to die,-- + + When, looking back in sunset light, + I saw her turret gleam, + And from its casement, far and white, + Her sign of farewell stream, + + Like one who, from some desert shore, + Doth home's green isles descry, + And, vainly longing, gazes o'er + The waste of wave and sky; + + So from the desert of my fate + I gaze across the past; + Forever on life's dial-plate + The shade is backward cast! + + I've wandered wide from shore to shore, + I've knelt at many a shrine; + And bowed me to the rocky floor + Where Bethlehem's tapers shine; + + And by the Holy Sepulchre + I've pledged my knightly sword + To Christ, His blessed Church, and her, + The Mother of our Lord. + + Oh, vain the vow, and vain the strife! + How vain do all things seem! + My soul is in the past, and life + To-day is but a dream. + + In vain the penance strange and long, + And hard for flesh to bear; + The prayer, the fasting, and the thong, + And sackcloth shirt of hair. + + The eyes of memory will not sleep, + Its ears are open still; + And vigils with the past they keep + Against my feeble will. + + And still the loves and joys of old + Do evermore uprise; + I see the flow of locks of gold, + The shine of loving eyes! + + Ah me! upon another's breast + Those golden locks recline; + I see upon another rest + The glance that once was mine. + + "O faithless priest! O perjured knight!" + I hear the Master cry; + "Shut out the vision from thy sight, + Let Earth and Nature die. + + "The Church of God is now thy spouse, + And thou the bridegroom art; + Then let the burden of thy vows + Crush down thy human heart!" + + In vain! This heart its grief must know, + Till life itself hath ceased, + And falls beneath the self-same blow + The lover and the priest! + + O pitying Mother! souls of light, + And saints and martyrs old! + Pray for a weak and sinful knight, + A suffering man uphold. + + Then let the Paynim work his will, + And death unbind my chain, + Ere down yon blue Carpathian hill + The sun shall fall again. + + 1843 + + + + +CASSANDRA SOUTHWICK. + +In 1658 two young persons, son and daughter of Lawrence Smithwick of +Salem, who had himself been imprisoned and deprived of nearly all his +property for having entertained Quakers at his house, were fined for +non-attendance at church. They being unable to pay the fine, the General +Court issued an order empowering "the Treasurer of the County to sell +the said persons to any of the English nation of Virginia or Barbadoes, +to answer said fines." An attempt was made to carry this order into +execution, but no shipmaster was found willing to convey them to the +West Indies. + + To the God of all sure mercies let my blessing rise + to-day, + From the scoffer and the cruel He hath plucked + the spoil away; + Yea, He who cooled the furnace around the faithful + three, + And tamed the Chaldean lions, hath set His hand- + maid free! + Last night I saw the sunset melt through my prison + bars, + Last night across my damp earth-floor fell the pale + gleam of stars; + In the coldness and the darkness all through the + long night-time, + My grated casement whitened with autumn's early + rime. + Alone, in that dark sorrow, hour after hour crept + by; + Star after star looked palely in and sank adown + the sky; + No sound amid night's stillness, save that which + seemed to be + The dull and heavy beating of the pulses of the sea; + + All night I sat unsleeping, for I knew that on the + morrow + The ruler and the cruel priest would mock me in + my sorrow, + Dragged to their place of market, and bargained + for and sold, + Like a lamb before the shambles, like a heifer + from the fold! + + Oh, the weakness of the flesh was there, the + shrinking and the shame; + And the low voice of the Tempter like whispers to + me came: + "Why sit'st thou thus forlornly," the wicked + murmur said, + "Damp walls thy bower of beauty, cold earth thy + maiden bed? + + "Where be the smiling faces, and voices soft and + sweet, + Seen in thy father's dwelling, heard in the pleasant + street? + Where be the youths whose glances, the summer + Sabbath through, + Turned tenderly and timidly unto thy father's pew? + + + "Why sit'st thou here, Cassandra?-Bethink + thee with what mirth + Thy happy schoolmates gather around the warm + bright hearth; + How the crimson shadows tremble on foreheads + white and fair, + On eyes of merry girlhood, half hid in golden hair. + + "Not for thee the hearth-fire brightens, not for + thee kind words are spoken, + Not for thee the nuts of Wenham woods by laughing + boys are broken; + No first-fruits of the orchard within thy lap are + laid, + For thee no flowers of autumn the youthful hunters + braid. + + "O weak, deluded maiden!--by crazy fancies + led, + With wild and raving railers an evil path to tread; + To leave a wholesome worship, and teaching pure + and sound, + And mate with maniac women, loose-haired and + sackcloth bound,-- + + "Mad scoffers of the priesthood; who mock at + things divine, + Who rail against the pulpit, and holy bread and + wine; + Sore from their cart-tail scourgings, and from the + pillory lame, + Rejoicing in their wretchedness, and glorying in + their shame. + + "And what a fate awaits thee!--a sadly toiling + slave, + Dragging the slowly lengthening chain of bondage + to the grave! + Think of thy woman's nature, subdued in hopeless + thrall, + The easy prey of any, the scoff and scorn of all!" + + Oh, ever as the Tempter spoke, and feeble Nature's + fears + Wrung drop by drop the scalding flow of unavailing + tears, + I wrestled down the evil thoughts, and strove in + silent prayer, + To feel, O Helper of the weak! that Thou indeed + wert there! + + I thought of Paul and Silas, within Philippi's cell, + And how from Peter's sleeping limbs the prison + shackles fell, + Till I seemed to hear the trailing of an angel's + robe of white, + And to feel a blessed presence invisible to sight. + + Bless the Lord for all his mercies!--for the peace + and love I felt, + Like dew of Hermon's holy hill, upon my spirit + melt; + When "Get behind me, Satan!" was the language + of my heart, + And I felt the Evil Tempter with all his doubts + depart. + + Slow broke the gray cold morning; again the sunshine + fell, + Flecked with the shade of bar and grate within + my lonely cell; + The hoar-frost melted on the wall, and upward + from the street + Came careless laugh and idle word, and tread of + passing feet. + + At length the heavy bolts fell back, my door was + open cast, + And slowly at the sheriff's side, up the long street + I passed; + I heard the murmur round me, and felt, but dared + not see, + How, from every door and window, the people + gazed on me. + + And doubt and fear fell on me, shame burned upon + my cheek, + Swam earth and sky around me, my trembling + limbs grew weak: + "O Lord! support thy handmaid; and from her + soul cast out + The fear of man, which brings a snare, the weakness + and the doubt." + + Then the dreary shadows scattered, like a cloud in + morning's breeze, + And a low deep voice within me seemed whispering + words like these: + "Though thy earth be as the iron, and thy heaven + a brazen wall, + Trust still His loving-kindness whose power is over + all." + + We paused at length, where at my feet the sunlit + waters broke + On glaring reach of shining beach, and shingly + wall of rock; + The merchant-ships lay idly there, in hard clear + lines on high, + Tracing with rope and slender spar their network + on the sky. + + And there were ancient citizens, cloak-wrapped + and grave and cold, + And grim and stout sea-captains with faces bronzed + and old, + And on his horse, with Rawson, his cruel clerk at + hand, + Sat dark and haughty Endicott, the ruler of the + land. + + And poisoning with his evil words the ruler's ready + ear, + The priest leaned o'er his saddle, with laugh and + scoff and jeer; + It stirred my soul, and from my lips the seal of + silence broke, + As if through woman's weakness a warning spirit + spoke. + + I cried, "The Lord rebuke thee, thou smiter of the + meek, + Thou robber of the righteous, thou trampler of + the weak! + Go light the dark, cold hearth-stones,--go turn + the prison lock + Of the poor hearts thou hast hunted, thou wolf + amid the flock!" + + Dark lowered the brows of Endicott, and with a + deeper red + O'er Rawson's wine-empurpled cheek the flush of + anger spread; + "Good people," quoth the white-lipped priest, + "heed not her words so wild, + Her Master speaks within her,--the Devil owns + his child!" + + But gray heads shook, and young brows knit, the + while the sheriff read + That law the wicked rulers against the poor have + made, + Who to their house of Rimmon and idol priesthood + bring + No bended knee of worship, nor gainful offering. + + Then to the stout sea-captains the sheriff, turning, + said,-- + "Which of ye, worthy seamen, will take this + Quaker maid? + In the Isle of fair Barbadoes, or on Virginia's + shore, + You may hold her at a higher price than Indian + girl or Moor." + + Grim and silent stood the captains; and when + again he cried, + "Speak out, my worthy seamen!"--no voice, no + sign replied; + But I felt a hard hand press my own, and kind + words met my ear,-- + "God bless thee, and preserve thee, my gentle girl + and dear!" + + A weight seemed lifted from my heart, a pitying + friend was nigh,-- + I felt it in his hard, rough hand, and saw it in his + eye; + And when again the sheriff spoke, that voice, so + kind to me, + Growled back its stormy answer like the roaring + of the sea,-- + + "Pile my ship with bars of silver, pack with coins + of Spanish gold, + From keel-piece up to deck-plank, the roomage of + her hold, + By the living God who made me!--I would sooner + in your bay + Sink ship and crew and cargo, than bear this child + away!" + + "Well answered, worthy captain, shame on their + cruel laws!" + Ran through the crowd in murmurs loud the people's + just applause. + "Like the herdsman of Tekoa, in Israel of old, + Shall we see the poor and righteous again for + silver sold?" + + I looked on haughty Endicott; with weapon half- + way drawn, + Swept round the throng his lion glare of bitter hate + and scorn; + Fiercely he drew his bridle-rein, and turned in + silence back, + And sneering priest and baffled clerk rode + murmuring in his track. + + Hard after them the sheriff looked, in bitterness of + soul; + Thrice smote his staff upon the ground, and + crushed his parchment roll. + "Good friends," he said, "since both have fled, + the ruler and the priest, + Judge ye, if from their further work I be not well + released." + + Loud was the cheer which, full and clear, swept + round the silent bay, + As, with kind words and kinder looks, he bade me + go my way; + For He who turns the courses of the streamlet of + the glen, + And the river of great waters, had turned the + hearts of men. + + Oh, at that hour the very earth seemed changed + beneath my eye, + A holier wonder round me rose the blue walls of + the sky, + A lovelier light on rock and hill and stream and + woodland lay, + And softer lapsed on sunnier sands the waters of + the bay. + + Thanksgiving to the Lord of life! to Him all + praises be, + Who from the hands of evil men hath set his hand- + maid free; + All praise to Him before whose power the mighty + are afraid, + Who takes the crafty in the snare which for the + poor is laid! + + Sing, O my soul, rejoicingly, on evening's twilight + calm + Uplift the loud thanksgiving, pour forth the grateful + psalm; + Let all dear hearts with me rejoice, as did the + saints of old, + When of the Lord's good angel the rescued Peter + told. + + And weep and howl, ye evil priests and mighty + men of wrong, + The Lord shall smite the proud, and lay His hand + upon the strong. + Woe to the wicked rulers in His avenging hour! + Woe to the wolves who seek the flocks to raven + and devour! + + But let the humble ones arise, the poor in heart + be glad, + And let the mourning ones again with robes of + praise be clad. + For He who cooled the furnace, and smoothed the + stormy wave, + And tamed the Chaldean lions, is mighty still to + save! + + 1843. + + + + +THE NEW WIFE AND THE OLD. + +The following ballad is founded upon one of the marvellous legends +connected with the famous General ----, of Hampton, New Hampshire, +who was regarded by his neighbors as a Yankee Faust, in league with +the adversary. I give the story, as I heard it when a child, from a +venerable family visitant. + + + DARK the halls, and cold the feast, + Gone the bridemaids, gone the priest. + All is over, all is done, + Twain of yesterday are one! + Blooming girl and manhood gray, + Autumn in the arms of May! + + Hushed within and hushed without, + Dancing feet and wrestlers' shout; + Dies the bonfire on the hill; + All is dark and all is still, + Save the starlight, save the breeze + Moaning through the graveyard trees, + And the great sea-waves below, + Pulse of the midnight beating slow. + + From the brief dream of a bride + She hath wakened, at his side. + With half-uttered shriek and start,-- + Feels she not his beating heart? + And the pressure of his arm, + And his breathing near and warm? + + Lightly from the bridal bed + Springs that fair dishevelled head, + And a feeling, new, intense, + Half of shame, half innocence, + Maiden fear and wonder speaks + Through her lips and changing cheeks. + + From the oaken mantel glowing, + Faintest light the lamp is throwing + On the mirror's antique mould, + High-backed chair, and wainscot old, + And, through faded curtains stealing, + His dark sleeping face revealing. + + Listless lies the strong man there, + Silver-streaked his careless hair; + Lips of love have left no trace + On that hard and haughty face; + And that forehead's knitted thought + Love's soft hand hath not unwrought. + + "Yet," she sighs, "he loves me well, + More than these calm lips will tell. + Stooping to my lowly state, + He hath made me rich and great, + And I bless him, though he be + Hard and stern to all save me!" + + While she speaketh, falls the light + O'er her fingers small and white; + Gold and gem, and costly ring + Back the timid lustre fling,-- + Love's selectest gifts, and rare, + His proud hand had fastened there. + + Gratefully she marks the glow + From those tapering lines of snow; + Fondly o'er the sleeper bending + His black hair with golden blending, + In her soft and light caress, + Cheek and lip together press. + + Ha!--that start of horror! why + That wild stare and wilder cry, + Full of terror, full of pain? + Is there madness in her brain? + Hark! that gasping, hoarse and low, + "Spare me,--spare me,--let me go!" + + God have mercy!--icy cold + Spectral hands her own enfold, + Drawing silently from them + Love's fair gifts of gold and gem. + "Waken! save me!" still as death + At her side he slumbereth. + + Ring and bracelet all are gone, + And that ice-cold hand withdrawn; + But she hears a murmur low, + Full of sweetness, full of woe, + Half a sigh and half a moan + "Fear not! give the dead her own!" + + Ah!--the dead wife's voice she knows! + That cold hand whose pressure froze, + Once in warmest life had borne + Gem and band her own hath worn. + "Wake thee! wake thee!" Lo, his eyes + Open with a dull surprise. + + In his arms the strong man folds her, + Closer to his breast he holds her; + Trembling limbs his own are meeting, + And he feels her heart's quick beating + "Nay, my dearest, why this fear?" + "Hush!" she saith, "the dead is here!" + + "Nay, a dream,--an idle dream." + But before the lamp's pale gleam + Tremblingly her hand she raises. + There no more the diamond blazes, + Clasp of pearl, or ring of gold,-- + "Ah!" she sighs, "her hand was cold!" + + Broken words of cheer he saith, + But his dark lip quivereth, + And as o'er the past he thinketh, + From his young wife's arms he shrinketh; + Can those soft arms round him lie, + Underneath his dead wife's eye? + + She her fair young head can rest + Soothed and childlike on his breast, + And in trustful innocence + Draw new strength and courage thence; + He, the proud man, feels within + But the cowardice of sin! + + She can murmur in her thought + Simple prayers her mother taught, + And His blessed angels call, + Whose great love is over all; + He, alone, in prayerless pride, + Meets the dark Past at her side! + + One, who living shrank with dread + From his look, or word, or tread, + Unto whom her early grave + Was as freedom to the slave, + Moves him at this midnight hour, + With the dead's unconscious power! + + Ah, the dead, the unforgot! + From their solemn homes of thought, + Where the cypress shadows blend + Darkly over foe and friend, + Or in love or sad rebuke, + Back upon the living look. + + And the tenderest ones and weakest, + Who their wrongs have borne the meekest, + Lifting from those dark, still places, + Sweet and sad-remembered faces, + O'er the guilty hearts behind + An unwitting triumph find. + + 1843 + + + + +THE BRIDAL OF PENNACOOK. + +Winnepurkit, otherwise called George, Sachem of Saugus, married a +daughter of Passaconaway, the great Pennacook chieftain, in 1662. The +wedding took place at Pennacook (now Concord, N. H.), and the ceremonies +closed with a great feast. According to the usages of the chiefs, +Passaconaway ordered a select number of his men to accompany the +newly-married couple to the dwelling of the husband, where in turn there +was another great feast. Some time after, the wife of Winnepurkit +expressing a desire to visit her father's house was permitted to go, +accompanied by a brave escort of her husband's chief men. But when she +wished to return, her father sent a messenger to Saugus, informing her +husband, and asking him to come and take her away. He returned for +answer that he had escorted his wife to her father's house in a style +that became a chief, and that now if she wished to return, her father +must send her back, in the same way. This Passaconaway refused to do, +and it is said that here terminated the connection of his daughter with +the Saugus chief.--Vide MORTON'S New Canaan. + + + WE had been wandering for many days + Through the rough northern country. We had seen + The sunset, with its bars of purple cloud, + Like a new heaven, shine upward from the lake + Of Winnepiseogee; and had felt + The sunrise breezes, midst the leafy isles + Which stoop their summer beauty to the lips + Of the bright waters. We had checked our steeds, + Silent with wonder, where the mountain wall + Is piled to heaven; and, through the narrow rift + Of the vast rocks, against whose rugged feet + Beats the mad torrent with perpetual roar, + Where noonday is as twilight, and the wind + Comes burdened with the everlasting moan + Of forests and of far-off waterfalls, + We had looked upward where the summer sky, + Tasselled with clouds light-woven by the sun, + Sprung its blue arch above the abutting crags + O'er-roofing the vast portal of the land + Beyond the wall of mountains. We had passed + The high source of the Saco; and bewildered + In the dwarf spruce-belts of the Crystal Hills, + Had heard above us, like a voice in the cloud, + The horn of Fabyan sounding; and atop + Of old Agioochook had seen the mountains' + Piled to the northward, shagged with wood, and thick + As meadow mole-hills,--the far sea of Casco, + A white gleam on the horizon of the east; + Fair lakes, embosomed in the woods and hills; + Moosehillock's mountain range, and Kearsarge + Lifting his granite forehead to the sun! + + And we had rested underneath the oaks + Shadowing the bank, whose grassy spires are shaken + By the perpetual beating of the falls + Of the wild Ammonoosuc. We had tracked + The winding Pemigewasset, overhung + By beechen shadows, whitening down its rocks, + Or lazily gliding through its intervals, + From waving rye-fields sending up the gleam + Of sunlit waters. We had seen the moon + Rising behind Umbagog's eastern pines, + Like a great Indian camp-fire; and its beams + At midnight spanning with a bridge of silver + The Merrimac by Uncanoonuc's falls. + + There were five souls of us whom travel's chance + Had thrown together in these wild north hills + A city lawyer, for a month escaping + From his dull office, where the weary eye + Saw only hot brick walls and close thronged streets; + Briefless as yet, but with an eye to see + Life's sunniest side, and with a heart to take + Its chances all as godsends; and his brother, + Pale from long pulpit studies, yet retaining + The warmth and freshness of a genial heart, + Whose mirror of the beautiful and true, + In Man and Nature, was as yet undimmed + By dust of theologic strife, or breath + Of sect, or cobwebs of scholastic lore; + Like a clear crystal calm of water, taking + The hue and image of o'erleaning flowers, + Sweet human faces, white clouds of the noon, + Slant starlight glimpses through the dewy leaves, + And tenderest moonrise. 'T was, in truth, a study, + To mark his spirit, alternating between + A decent and professional gravity + And an irreverent mirthfulness, which often + Laughed in the face of his divinity, + Plucked off the sacred ephod, quite unshrined + The oracle, and for the pattern priest + Left us the man. A shrewd, sagacious merchant, + To whom the soiled sheet found in Crawford's inn, + Giving the latest news of city stocks + And sales of cotton, had a deeper meaning + Than the great presence of the awful mountains + Glorified by the sunset; and his daughter, + A delicate flower on whom had blown too long + Those evil winds, which, sweeping from the ice + And winnowing the fogs of Labrador, + Shed their cold blight round Massachusetts Bay, + With the same breath which stirs Spring's opening leaves + And lifts her half-formed flower-bell on its stem, + Poisoning our seaside atmosphere. + + It chanced that as we turned upon our homeward way, + A drear northeastern storm came howling up + The valley of the Saco; and that girl + Who had stood with us upon Mount Washington, + Her brown locks ruffled by the wind which whirled + In gusts around its sharp, cold pinnacle, + Who had joined our gay trout-fishing in the streams + Which lave that giant's feet; whose laugh was heard + Like a bird's carol on the sunrise breeze + Which swelled our sail amidst the lake's green islands, + Shrank from its harsh, chill breath, and visibly drooped + Like a flower in the frost. So, in that quiet inn + Which looks from Conway on the mountains piled + Heavily against the horizon of the north, + Like summer thunder-clouds, we made our home + And while the mist hung over dripping hills, + And the cold wind-driven rain-drops all day long + Beat their sad music upon roof and pane, + We strove to cheer our gentle invalid. + + The lawyer in the pauses of the storm + Went angling down the Saco, and, returning, + Recounted his adventures and mishaps; + Gave us the history of his scaly clients, + Mingling with ludicrous yet apt citations + Of barbarous law Latin, passages + From Izaak Walton's Angler, sweet and fresh + As the flower-skirted streams of Staffordshire, + Where, under aged trees, the southwest wind + Of soft June mornings fanned the thin, white hair + Of the sage fisher. And, if truth be told, + Our youthful candidate forsook his sermons, + His commentaries, articles and creeds, + For the fair page of human loveliness, + The missal of young hearts, whose sacred text + Is music, its illumining, sweet smiles. + He sang the songs she loved; and in his low, + Deep, earnest voice, recited many a page + Of poetry, the holiest, tenderest lines + Of the sad bard of Olney, the sweet songs, + Simple and beautiful as Truth and Nature, + Of him whose whitened locks on Rydal Mount + Are lifted yet by morning breezes blowing + From the green hills, immortal in his lays. + And for myself, obedient to her wish, + I searched our landlord's proffered library,-- + A well-thumbed Bunyan, with its nice wood pictures + Of scaly fiends and angels not unlike them; + Watts' unmelodious psalms; Astrology's + Last home, a musty pile of almanacs, + And an old chronicle of border wars + And Indian history. And, as I read + A story of the marriage of the Chief + Of Saugus to the dusky Weetamoo, + Daughter of Passaconaway, who dwelt + In the old time upon the Merrimac, + Our fair one, in the playful exercise + Of her prerogative,--the right divine + Of youth and beauty,--bade us versify + The legend, and with ready pencil sketched + Its plan and outlines, laughingly assigning + To each his part, and barring our excuses + With absolute will. So, like the cavaliers + Whose voices still are heard in the Romance + Of silver-tongued Boccaccio, on the banks + Of Arno, with soft tales of love beguiling + The ear of languid beauty, plague-exiled + From stately Florence, we rehearsed our rhymes + To their fair auditor, and shared by turns + Her kind approval and her playful censure. + + It may be that these fragments owe alone + To the fair setting of their circumstances,-- + The associations of time, scene, and audience,-- + Their place amid the pictures which fill up + The chambers of my memory. Yet I trust + That some, who sigh, while wandering in thought, + Pilgrims of Romance o'er the olden world, + That our broad land,--our sea-like lakes and mountains + Piled to the clouds, our rivers overhung + By forests which have known no other change + For ages than the budding and the fall + Of leaves, our valleys lovelier than those + Which the old poets sang of,--should but figure + On the apocryphal chart of speculation + As pastures, wood-lots, mill-sites, with the privileges, + Rights, and appurtenances, which make up + A Yankee Paradise, unsung, unknown, + To beautiful tradition; even their names, + Whose melody yet lingers like the last + Vibration of the red man's requiem, + Exchanged for syllables significant, + Of cotton-mill and rail-car, will look kindly + Upon this effort to call up the ghost + Of our dim Past, and listen with pleased ear + To the responses of the questioned Shade. + + + + +I. THE MERRIMAC. + + O child of that white-crested mountain whose + springs + Gush forth in the shade of the cliff-eagle's + wings, + Down whose slopes to the lowlands thy wild waters + shine, + Leaping gray walls of rock, flashing through the + dwarf pine; + From that cloud-curtained cradle so cold and so + lone, + From the arms of that wintry-locked mother of + stone, + By hills hung with forests, through vales wide and + free, + Thy mountain-born brightness glanced down to the + sea. + + No bridge arched thy waters save that where the + trees + Stretched their long arms above thee and kissed in + the breeze: + No sound save the lapse of the waves on thy + shores, + The plunging of otters, the light dip of oars. + + Green-tufted, oak-shaded, by Amoskeag's fall + Thy twin Uncanoonucs rose stately and tall, + Thy Nashua meadows lay green and unshorn, + And the hills of Pentucket were tasselled with + corn. + But thy Pennacook valley was fairer than these, + And greener its grasses and taller its trees, + Ere the sound of an axe in the forest had rung, + Or the mower his scythe in the meadows had + swung. + + In their sheltered repose looking out from the + wood + The bark-builded wigwams of Pennacook stood; + There glided the corn-dance, the council-fire shone, + And against the red war-post the hatchet was + thrown. + + There the old smoked in silence their pipes, and + the young + To the pike and the white-perch their baited lines + flung; + There the boy shaped his arrows, and there the + shy maid + Wove her many-hued baskets and bright wampum + braid. + + O Stream of the Mountains! if answer of thine + Could rise from thy waters to question of mine, + Methinks through the din of thy thronged banks + a moan + Of sorrow would swell for the days which have + gone. + + Not for thee the dull jar of the loom and the wheel, + The gliding of shuttles, the ringing of steel; + But that old voice of waters, of bird and of breeze, + The dip of the wild-fowl, the rustling of trees. + + + + +II. THE BASHABA. + + Lift we the twilight curtains of the Past, + And, turning from familiar sight and sound, + Sadly and full of reverence let us cast + A glance upon Tradition's shadowy ground, + Led by the few pale lights which, glimmering round + That dim, strange land of Eld, seem dying fast; + And that which history gives not to the eye, + The faded coloring of Time's tapestry, + Let Fancy, with her dream-dipped brush, supply. + + Roof of bark and walls of pine, + Through whose chinks the sunbeams shine, + Tracing many a golden line + On the ample floor within; + Where, upon that earth-floor stark, + Lay the gaudy mats of bark, + With the bear's hide, rough and dark, + And the red-deer's skin. + + Window-tracery, small and slight, + Woven of the willow white, + Lent a dimly checkered light; + And the night-stars glimmered down, + Where the lodge-fire's heavy smoke, + Slowly through an opening broke, + In the low roof, ribbed with oak, + Sheathed with hemlock brown. + + Gloomed behind the changeless shade + By the solemn pine-wood made; + Through the rugged palisade, + In the open foreground planted, + Glimpses came of rowers rowing, + Stir of leaves and wild-flowers blowing, + Steel-like gleams of water flowing, + In the sunlight slanted. + + Here the mighty Bashaba + Held his long-unquestioned sway, + From the White Hills, far away, + To the great sea's sounding shore; + Chief of chiefs, his regal word + All the river Sachems heard, + At his call the war-dance stirred, + Or was still once more. + + There his spoils of chase and war, + Jaw of wolf and black bear's paw, + Panther's skin and eagle's claw, + Lay beside his axe and bow; + And, adown the roof-pole hung, + Loosely on a snake-skin strung, + In the smoke his scalp-locks swung + Grimly to and fro. + + Nightly down the river going, + Swifter was the hunter's rowing, + When he saw that lodge-fire, glowing + O'er the waters still and red; + And the squaw's dark eye burned brighter, + And she drew her blanket tighter, + As, with quicker step and lighter, + From that door she fled. + + For that chief had magic skill, + And a Panisee's dark will, + Over powers of good and ill, + Powers which bless and powers which ban; + Wizard lord of Pennacook, + Chiefs upon their war-path shook, + When they met the steady look + Of that wise dark man. + + Tales of him the gray squaw told, + When the winter night-wind cold + Pierced her blanket's thickest fold, + And her fire burned low and small, + Till the very child abed, + Drew its bear-skin over bead, + Shrinking from the pale lights shed + On the trembling wall. + + All the subtle spirits hiding + Under earth or wave, abiding + In the caverned rock, or riding + Misty clouds or morning breeze; + Every dark intelligence, + Secret soul, and influence + Of all things which outward sense + Feels, or bears, or sees,-- + + These the wizard's skill confessed, + At his bidding banned or blessed, + Stormful woke or lulled to rest + Wind and cloud, and fire and flood; + Burned for him the drifted snow, + Bade through ice fresh lilies blow, + And the leaves of summer grow + Over winter's wood! + + Not untrue that tale of old! + Now, as then, the wise and bold + All the powers of Nature hold + Subject to their kingly will; + From the wondering crowds ashore, + Treading life's wild waters o'er, + As upon a marble floor, + Moves the strong man still. + + Still, to such, life's elements + With their sterner laws dispense, + And the chain of consequence + Broken in their pathway lies; + Time and change their vassals making, + Flowers from icy pillows waking, + Tresses of the sunrise shaking + Over midnight skies. + Still, to th' earnest soul, the sun + Rests on towered Gibeon, + And the moon of Ajalon + Lights the battle-grounds of life; + To his aid the strong reverses + Hidden powers and giant forces, + And the high stars, in their courses, + Mingle in his strife! + + + + +III. THE DAUGHTER. + + The soot-black brows of men, the yell + Of women thronging round the bed, + The tinkling charm of ring and shell, + The Powah whispering o'er the dead! + + All these the Sachem's home had known, + When, on her journey long and wild + To the dim World of Souls, alone, + In her young beauty passed the mother of his child. + + Three bow-shots from the Sachem's dwelling + They laid her in the walnut shade, + Where a green hillock gently swelling + Her fitting mound of burial made. + There trailed the vine in summer hours, + The tree-perched squirrel dropped his shell,-- + On velvet moss and pale-hued flowers, + Woven with leaf and spray, the softened sunshine fell! + + The Indian's heart is hard and cold, + It closes darkly o'er its care, + And formed in Nature's sternest mould, + Is slow to feel, and strong to bear. + The war-paint on the Sachem's face, + Unwet with tears, shone fierce and red, + And still, in battle or in chase, + Dry leaf and snow-rime crisped beneath his + foremost tread. + + Yet when her name was heard no more, + And when the robe her mother gave, + And small, light moccasin she wore, + Had slowly wasted on her grave, + Unmarked of him the dark maids sped + Their sunset dance and moonlit play; + No other shared his lonely bed, + No other fair young head upon his bosom lay. + + A lone, stern man. Yet, as sometimes + The tempest-smitten tree receives + From one small root the sap which climbs + Its topmost spray and crowning leaves, + So from his child the Sachem drew + A life of Love and Hope, and felt + His cold and rugged nature through + The softness and the warmth of her young + being melt. + + A laugh which in the woodland rang + Bemocking April's gladdest bird,-- + A light and graceful form which sprang + To meet him when his step was heard,-- + Eyes by his lodge-fire flashing dark, + Small fingers stringing bead and shell + Or weaving mats of bright-hued bark,-- + With these the household-god (3) had graced + his wigwam well. + + Child of the forest! strong and free, + Slight-robed, with loosely flowing hair, + She swam the lake or climbed the tree, + Or struck the flying bird in air. + O'er the heaped drifts of winter's moon + Her snow-shoes tracked the hunter's way; + And dazzling in the summer noon + The blade of her light oar threw off its shower + of spray! + + Unknown to her the rigid rule, + The dull restraint, the chiding frown, + The weary torture of the school, + The taming of wild nature down. + Her only lore, the legends told + Around the hunter's fire at night; + Stars rose and set, and seasons rolled, + Flowers bloomed and snow-flakes fell, unquestioned + in her sight. + + Unknown to her the subtle skill + With which the artist-eye can trace + In rock and tree and lake and hill + The outlines of divinest grace; + Unknown the fine soul's keen unrest, + Which sees, admires, yet yearns alway; + Too closely on her mother's breast + To note her smiles of love the child of Nature lay! + + It is enough for such to be + Of common, natural things a part, + To feel, with bird and stream and tree, + The pulses of the same great heart; + But we, from Nature long exiled, + In our cold homes of Art and Thought + Grieve like the stranger-tended child, + Which seeks its mother's arms, and sees but feels + them not. + + The garden rose may richly bloom + In cultured soil and genial air, + To cloud the light of Fashion's room + Or droop in Beauty's midnight hair; + In lonelier grace, to sun and dew + The sweetbrier on the hillside shows + Its single leaf and fainter hue, + Untrained and wildly free, yet still a sister rose! + + Thus o'er the heart of Weetamoo + Their mingling shades of joy and ill + The instincts of her nature threw; + The savage was a woman still. + Midst outlines dim of maiden schemes, + Heart-colored prophecies of life, + Rose on the ground of her young dreams + The light of a new home, the lover and the wife. + + + + +IV. THE WEDDING. + + Cool and dark fell the autumn night, + But the Bashaba's wigwam glowed with light, + For down from its roof, by green withes hung, + Flaring and smoking the pine-knots swung. + + And along the river great wood-fires + Shot into the night their long, red spires, + Showing behind the tall, dark wood, + Flashing before on the sweeping flood. + + In the changeful wind, with shimmer and shade, + Now high, now low, that firelight played, + On tree-leaves wet with evening dews, + On gliding water and still canoes. + + The trapper that night on Turee's brook, + And the weary fisher on Contoocook, + Saw over the marshes, and through the pine, + And down on the river, the dance-lights shine. + For the Saugus Sachem had come to woo + The Bashaba's daughter Weetamoo, + And laid at her father's feet that night + His softest furs and wampum white. + + From the Crystal Hills to the far southeast + The river Sagamores came to the feast; + And chiefs whose homes the sea-winds shook + Sat down on the mats of Pennacook. + + They came from Sunapee's shore of rock, + From the snowy sources of Snooganock, + And from rough Coos whose thick woods shake + Their pine-cones in Umbagog Lake. + + From Ammonoosuc's mountain pass, + Wild as his home, came Chepewass; + And the Keenomps of the bills which throw + Their shade on the Smile of Manito. + + With pipes of peace and bows unstrung, + Glowing with paint came old and young, + In wampum and furs and feathers arrayed, + To the dance and feast the Bashaba made. + + Bird of the air and beast of the field, + All which the woods and the waters yield, + On dishes of birch and hemlock piled, + Garnished and graced that banquet wild. + + Steaks of the brown bear fat and large + From the rocky slopes of the Kearsarge; + Delicate trout from Babboosuck brook, + And salmon speared in the Contoocook; + + Squirrels which fed where nuts fell thick + in the gravelly bed of the Otternic; + And small wild-hens in reed-snares caught + from the banks of Sondagardee brought; + + Pike and perch from the Suncook taken, + Nuts from the trees of the Black Hills shaken, + Cranberries picked in the Squamscot bog, + And grapes from the vines of Piscataquog: + + And, drawn from that great stone vase which stands + In the river scooped by a spirit's hands,(4) + Garnished with spoons of shell and horn, + Stood the birchen dishes of smoking corn. + + Thus bird of the air and beast of the field, + All which the woods and the waters yield, + Furnished in that olden day + The bridal feast of the Bashaba. + + And merrily when that feast was done + On the fire-lit green the dance begun, + With squaws' shrill stave, and deeper hum + Of old men beating the Indian drum. + + Painted and plumed, with scalp-locks flowing, + And red arms tossing and black eyes glowing, + Now in the light and now in the shade + Around the fires the dancers played. + + The step was quicker, the song more shrill, + And the beat of the small drums louder still + Whenever within the circle drew + The Saugus Sachem and Weetamoo. + + The moons of forty winters had shed + Their snow upon that chieftain's head, + And toil and care and battle's chance + Had seamed his hard, dark countenance. + + A fawn beside the bison grim,-- + Why turns the bride's fond eye on him, + In whose cold look is naught beside + The triumph of a sullen pride? + + Ask why the graceful grape entwines + The rough oak with her arm of vines; + And why the gray rock's rugged cheek + The soft lips of the mosses seek. + + Why, with wise instinct, Nature seems + To harmonize her wide extremes, + Linking the stronger with the weak, + The haughty with the soft and meek! + + + + +V. THE NEW HOME. + + A wild and broken landscape, spiked with firs, + Roughening the bleak horizon's northern edge; + Steep, cavernous hillsides, where black hemlock + spurs + And sharp, gray splinters of the wind-swept + ledge + Pierced the thin-glazed ice, or bristling rose, + Where the cold rim of the sky sunk down upon + the snows. + + And eastward cold, wide marshes stretched away, + Dull, dreary flats without a bush or tree, + O'er-crossed by icy creeks, where twice a day + Gurgled the waters of the moon-struck sea; + And faint with distance came the stifled roar, + The melancholy lapse of waves on that low shore. + + No cheerful village with its mingling smokes, + No laugh of children wrestling in the snow, + No camp-fire blazing through the hillside oaks, + No fishers kneeling on the ice below; + Yet midst all desolate things of sound and view, + Through the long winter moons smiled dark-eyed + Weetamoo. + + Her heart had found a home; and freshly all + Its beautiful affections overgrew + Their rugged prop. As o'er some granite wall + Soft vine-leaves open to the moistening dew + And warm bright sun, the love of that young wife + Found on a hard cold breast the dew and warmth + of life. + + The steep, bleak hills, the melancholy shore, + The long, dead level of the marsh between, + A coloring of unreal beauty wore + Through the soft golden mist of young love seen. + For o'er those hills and from that dreary plain, + Nightly she welcomed home her hunter chief again. + + No warmth of heart, no passionate burst of feeling, + Repaid her welcoming smile and parting kiss, + No fond and playful dalliance half concealing, + Under the guise of mirth, its tenderness; + + But, in their stead, the warrior's settled pride, + And vanity's pleased smile with homage satisfied. + + Enough for Weetamoo, that she alone + Sat on his mat and slumbered at his side; + That he whose fame to her young ear had flown + Now looked upon her proudly as his bride; + That he whose name the Mohawk trembling heard + Vouchsafed to her at times a kindly look or word. + + For she had learned the maxims of her race, + Which teach the woman to become a slave, + And feel herself the pardonless disgrace + Of love's fond weakness in the wise and brave,-- + The scandal and the shame which they incur, + Who give to woman all which man requires of her. + + So passed the winter moons. The sun at last + Broke link by link the frost chain of the rills, + And the warm breathings of the southwest passed + Over the hoar rime of the Saugus hills; + The gray and desolate marsh grew green once more, + And the birch-tree's tremulous shade fell round the + Sachem's door. + + Then from far Pennacook swift runners came, + With gift and greeting for the Saugus chief; + Beseeching him in the great Sachem's name, + That, with the coming of the flower and leaf, + The song of birds, the warm breeze and the rain, + Young Weetamoo might greet her lonely sire again. + + And Winnepurkit called his chiefs together, + And a grave council in his wigwam met, + Solemn and brief in words, considering whether + The rigid rules of forest etiquette + Permitted Weetamoo once more to look + Upon her father's face and green-banked + Pennacook. + + With interludes of pipe-smoke and strong water, + The forest sages pondered, and at length, + Concluded in a body to escort her + Up to her father's home of pride and strength, + Impressing thus on Pennacook a sense + Of Winnepurkit's power and regal consequence. + + So through old woods which Aukeetamit's(5) hand, + A soft and many-shaded greenness lent, + Over high breezy hills, and meadow land + Yellow with flowers, the wild procession went, + Till, rolling down its wooded banks between, + A broad, clear, mountain stream, the Merrimac + was seen. + + The hunter leaning on his bow undrawn, + The fisher lounging on the pebbled shores, + Squaws in the clearing dropping the seed-corn, + Young children peering through the wigwam doors, + Saw with delight, surrounded by her train + Of painted Saugus braves, their Weetamoo again. + + + + +VI. AT PENNACOOK. + + The hills are dearest which our childish feet + Have climbed the earliest; and the streams most sweet + Are ever those at which our young lips drank, + Stooped to their waters o'er the grassy bank. + + Midst the cold dreary sea-watch, Home's hearth-light + Shines round the helmsman plunging through the night; + And still, with inward eye, the traveller sees + In close, dark, stranger streets his native trees. + + The home-sick dreamer's brow is nightly fanned + By breezes whispering of his native land, + And on the stranger's dim and dying eye + The soft, sweet pictures of his childhood lie. + + Joy then for Weetamoo, to sit once more + A child upon her father's wigwam floor! + Once more with her old fondness to beguile + From his cold eye the strange light of a smile. + + The long, bright days of summer swiftly passed, + The dry leaves whirled in autumn's rising blast, + And evening cloud and whitening sunrise rime + Told of the coming of the winter-time. + + But vainly looked, the while, young Weetamoo, + Down the dark river for her chief's canoe; + No dusky messenger from Saugus brought + The grateful tidings which the young wife sought. + + At length a runner from her father sent, + To Winnepurkit's sea-cooled wigwam went + "Eagle of Saugus,--in the woods the dove + Mourns for the shelter of thy wings of love." + + But the dark chief of Saugus turned aside + In the grim anger of hard-hearted pride; + "I bore her as became a chieftain's daughter, + Up to her home beside the gliding water. + + If now no more a mat for her is found + Of all which line her father's wigwam round, + Let Pennacook call out his warrior train, + And send her back with wampum gifts again." + + The baffled runner turned upon his track, + Bearing the words of Winnepurkit back. + "Dog of the Marsh," cried Pennacook, "no more + Shall child of mine sit on his wigwam floor. + + "Go, let him seek some meaner squaw to spread + The stolen bear-skin of his beggar's bed; + Son of a fish-hawk! let him dig his clams + For some vile daughter of the Agawams, + + "Or coward Nipmucks! may his scalp dry black + In Mohawk smoke, before I send her back." + He shook his clenched hand towards the ocean wave, + While hoarse assent his listening council gave. + + Alas poor bride! can thy grim sire impart + His iron hardness to thy woman's heart? + Or cold self-torturing pride like his atone + For love denied and life's warm beauty flown? + + On Autumn's gray and mournful grave the snow + Hung its white wreaths; with stifled voice and low + The river crept, by one vast bridge o'er-crossed, + Built by the boar-locked artisan of Frost. + + And many a moon in beauty newly born + Pierced the red sunset with her silver horn, + Or, from the east, across her azure field + Rolled the wide brightness of her full-orbed shield. + + Yet Winnepurkit came not,--on the mat + Of the scorned wife her dusky rival sat; + And he, the while, in Western woods afar, + Urged the long chase, or trod the path of war. + + Dry up thy tears, young daughter of a chief! + Waste not on him the sacredness of grief; + Be the fierce spirit of thy sire thine own, + His lips of scorning, and his heart of stone. + + What heeds the warrior of a hundred fights, + The storm-worn watcher through long hunting nights, + Cold, crafty, proud of woman's weak distress, + Her home-bound grief and pining loneliness? + + + + +VII. THE DEPARTURE. + + The wild March rains had fallen fast and long + The snowy mountains of the North among, + Making each vale a watercourse, each hill + Bright with the cascade of some new-made rill. + + Gnawed by the sunbeams, softened by the rain, + Heaved underneath by the swollen current's strain, + The ice-bridge yielded, and the Merrimac + Bore the huge ruin crashing down its track. + + On that strong turbid water, a small boat + Guided by one weak hand was seen to float; + Evil the fate which loosed it from the shore, + Too early voyager with too frail an oar! + + Down the vexed centre of that rushing tide, + The thick huge ice-blocks threatening either side, + The foam-white rocks of Amoskeag in view, + With arrowy swiftness sped that light canoe. + + The trapper, moistening his moose's meat + On the wet bank by Uncanoonuc's feet, + Saw the swift boat flash down the troubled stream; + Slept he, or waked he? was it truth or dream? + + The straining eye bent fearfully before, + The small hand clenching on the useless oar, + The bead-wrought blanket trailing o'er the water-- + He knew them all--woe for the Sachem's daughter! + + Sick and aweary of her lonely life, + Heedless of peril, the still faithful wife + Had left her mother's grave, her father's door, + To seek the wigwam of her chief once more. + + Down the white rapids like a sear leaf whirled, + On the sharp rocks and piled-up ices hurled, + Empty and broken, circled the canoe + In the vexed pool below--but where was Weetamoo. + + + + +VIII. SONG OF INDIAN WOMEN. + + The Dark eye has left us, + The Spring-bird has flown; + On the pathway of spirits + She wanders alone. + The song of the wood-dove has died on our shore + Mat wonck kunna-monee!(6) We hear it no more! + + O dark water Spirit + We cast on thy wave + These furs which may never + Hang over her grave; + Bear down to the lost one the robes that she wore + Mat wonck kunna-monee! We see her no more! + + Of the strange land she walks in + No Powah has told: + It may burn with the sunshine, + Or freeze with the cold. + Let us give to our lost one the robes that she wore: + Mat wonck kunna-monee! We see her no more! + + The path she is treading + Shall soon be our own; + Each gliding in shadow + Unseen and alone! + In vain shall we call on the souls gone before: + Mat wonck kunna-monee! They hear us no more! + + O mighty Sowanna!(7) + Thy gateways unfold, + From thy wigwam of sunset + Lift curtains of gold! + + Take home the poor Spirit whose journey is o'er + Mat wonck kunna-monee! We see her no more! + + So sang the Children of the Leaves beside + The broad, dark river's coldly flowing tide; + Now low, now harsh, with sob-like pause and swell, + On the high wind their voices rose and fell. + Nature's wild music,--sounds of wind-swept trees, + The scream of birds, the wailing of the breeze, + The roar of waters, steady, deep, and strong,-- + Mingled and murmured in that farewell song. + + 1844. + + + + +BARCLAY OF URY. + +Among the earliest converts to the doctrines of Friends in Scotland was +Barclay of Ury, an old and distinguished soldier, who had fought under +Gustavus Adolphus, in Germany. As a Quaker, he became the object of +persecution and abuse at the hands of the magistrates and the populace. +None bore the indignities of the mob with greater patience and nobleness +of soul than this once proud gentleman and soldier. One of his friends, +on an occasion of uncommon rudeness, lamented that he should be treated +so harshly in his old age who had been so honored before. "I find more +satisfaction," said Barclay, "as well as honor, in being thus insulted +for my religious principles, than when, a few years ago, it was usual +for the magistrates, as I passed the city of Aberdeen, to meet me on the +road and conduct me to public entertainment in their hall, and then +escort me out again, to gain my favor." + + Up the streets of Aberdeen, + By the kirk and college green, + Rode the Laird of Ury; + Close behind him, close beside, + Foul of mouth and evil-eyed, + Pressed the mob in fury. + + Flouted him the drunken churl, + Jeered at him the serving-girl, + Prompt to please her master; + And the begging carlin, late + Fed and clothed at Ury's gate, + Cursed him as he passed her. + + Yet, with calm and stately mien, + Up the streets of Aberdeen + Came he slowly riding; + And, to all he saw and heard, + Answering not with bitter word, + Turning not for chiding. + + Came a troop with broadswords swinging, + Bits and bridles sharply ringing, + Loose and free and froward; + Quoth the foremost, "Ride him down! + Push him! prick him! through the town + Drive the Quaker coward!" + + But from out the thickening crowd + Cried a sudden voice and loud + "Barclay! Ho! a Barclay!" + And the old man at his side + Saw a comrade, battle tried, + Scarred and sunburned darkly; + + Who with ready weapon bare, + Fronting to the troopers there, + Cried aloud: "God save us, + Call ye coward him who stood + Ankle deep in Lutzen's blood, + With the brave Gustavus?" + + "Nay, I do not need thy sword, + Comrade mine," said Ury's lord; + "Put it up, I pray thee + Passive to His holy will, + Trust I in my Master still, + Even though He slay me. + + "Pledges of thy love and faith, + Proved on many a field of death, + Not by me are needed." + Marvelled much that henchman bold, + That his laird, so stout of old, + Now so meekly pleaded. + + "Woe's the day!" he sadly said, + With a slowly shaking head, + And a look of pity; + "Ury's honest lord reviled, + Mock of knave and sport of child, + In his own good city. + + "Speak the word, and, master mine, + As we charged on Tilly's(8) line, + And his Walloon lancers, + Smiting through their midst we'll teach + Civil look and decent speech + To these boyish prancers!" + + "Marvel not, mine ancient friend, + Like beginning, like the end:" + Quoth the Laird of Ury; + "Is the sinful servant more + Than his gracious Lord who bore + Bonds and stripes in Jewry? + + "Give me joy that in His name + I can bear, with patient frame, + All these vain ones offer; + While for them He suffereth long, + Shall I answer wrong with wrong, + Scoffing with the scoffer? + + "Happier I, with loss of all, + Hunted, outlawed, held in thrall, + With few friends to greet me, + Than when reeve and squire were seen, + Riding out from Aberdeen, + With bared heads to meet me. + + "When each goodwife, o'er and o'er, + Blessed me as I passed her door; + And the snooded daughter, + Through her casement glancing down, + Smiled on him who bore renown + From red fields of slaughter. + + "Hard to feel the stranger's scoff, + Hard the old friend's falling off, + Hard to learn forgiving; + But the Lord His own rewards, + And His love with theirs accords, + Warm and fresh and living. + + "Through this dark and stormy night + Faith beholds a feeble light + Up the blackness streaking; + Knowing God's own time is best, + In a patient hope I rest + For the full day-breaking!" + + So the Laird of Ury said, + Turning slow his horse's head + Towards the Tolbooth prison, + Where, through iron gates, he heard + Poor disciples of the Word + Preach of Christ arisen! + + Not in vain, Confessor old, + Unto us the tale is told + Of thy day of trial; + Every age on him who strays + From its broad and beaten ways + Pours its seven-fold vial. + + Happy he whose inward ear + Angel comfortings can hear, + O'er the rabble's laughter; + And while Hatred's fagots burn, + Glimpses through the smoke discern + Of the good hereafter. + + Knowing this, that never yet + Share of Truth was vainly set + In the world's wide fallow; + After hands shall sow the seed, + After hands from hill and mead + Reap the harvests yellow. + + Thus, with somewhat of the Seer, + Must the moral pioneer + From the Future borrow; + Clothe the waste with dreams of grain, + And, on midnight's sky of rain, + Paint the golden morrow! + + + + +THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA. + +A letter-writer from Mexico during the Mexican war, when detailing some +of the incidents at the terrible fight of Buena Vista, mentioned that +Mexican women were seen hovering near the field of death, for the +purpose of giving aid and succor to the wounded. One poor woman was +found surrounded by the maimed and suffering of both armies, ministering +to the wants of Americans as well as Mexicans, with impartial +tenderness. + + SPEAK and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward + far away, + O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican + array, + Who is losing? who is winning? are they far or + come they near? + Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the + storm we hear. + Down the hills of Angostura still the storm of + battle rolls; + Blood is flowing, men are dying; God have mercy + on their souls! + "Who is losing? who is winning?" Over hill + and over plain, + I see but smoke of cannon clouding through the + mountain rain. + + Holy Mother! keep our brothers! Look, Ximena, + look once more. + "Still I see the fearful whirlwind rolling darkly + as before, + Bearing on, in strange confusion, friend and foeman, + foot and horse, + Like some wild and troubled torrent sweeping + down its mountain course." + + Look forth once more, Ximena! "Ah! the smoke + has rolled away; + And I see the Northern rifles gleaming down the + ranks of gray. + Hark! that sudden blast of bugles! there the troop + of Minon wheels; + There the Northern horses thunder, with the cannon + at their heels. + + "Jesu, pity I how it thickens I now retreat and + now advance! + Bight against the blazing cannon shivers Puebla's + charging lance! + Down they go, the brave young riders; horse and + foot together fall; + Like a ploughshare in the fallow, through them + ploughs the Northern ball." + + Nearer came the storm and nearer, rolling fast and + frightful on! + Speak, Ximena, speak and tell us, who has lost, + and who has won? + Alas! alas! I know not; friend and foe together + fall, + O'er the dying rush the living: pray, my sisters, + for them all! + + "Lo! the wind the smoke is lifting. Blessed + Mother, save my brain! + I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from + heaps of slain. + Now they stagger, blind and bleeding; now they + fall, and strive to rise; + Hasten, sisters, haste and save them, lest they die + before our eyes! + + "O my hearts love! O my dear one! lay thy + poor head on my knee; + Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee? Canst + thou hear me? canst thou see? + O my husband, brave and gentle! O my Bernal, + look once more + On the blessed cross before thee! Mercy! + all is o'er!" + + Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena; lay thy dear one + down to rest; + Let his hands be meekly folded, lay the cross upon + his breast; + Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral + masses said; + To-day, thou poor bereaved one, the living ask thy + aid. + + Close beside her, faintly moaning, fair and young, + a soldier lay, + Torn with shot and pierced with lances, bleeding + slow his life away; + But, as tenderly before him the lorn Ximena knelt, + She saw the Northern eagle shining on his pistol- + belt. + + With a stifled cry of horror straight she turned + away her head; + With a sad and bitter feeling looked she back upon + her dead; + But she heard the youth's low moaning, and his + struggling breath of pain, + And she raised the cooling water to his parching + lips again. + + Whispered low the dying soldier, pressed her hand + and faintly smiled; + Was that pitying face his mother's? did she watch + beside her child? + All his stranger words with meaning her woman's + heart supplied; + With her kiss upon his forehead, "Mother!" + murmured he, and died! + + "A bitter curse upon them, poor boy, who led thee + forth, + From some gentle, sad-eyed mother, weeping, lonely, + in the North!" + Spake the mournful Mexic woman, as she laid him + with her dead, + And turned to soothe the living, and bind the + wounds which bled. + + "Look forth once more, Ximena!" Like a cloud + before the wind + Rolls the battle down the mountains, leaving blood + and death behind; + Ah! they plead in vain for mercy; in the dust the + wounded strive; + "Hide your faces, holy angels! O thou Christ of + God, forgive!" + + Sink, O Night, among thy mountains! let the cool, + gray shadows fall; + Dying brothers, fighting demons, drop thy curtain + over all! + Through the thickening winter twilight, wide apart + the battle rolled, + In its sheath the sabre rested, and the cannon's + lips grew cold. + + But the noble Mexic women still their holy task + pursued, + Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn and + faint and lacking food. + Over weak and suffering brothers, with a tender + care they hung, + And the dying foeman blessed them in a strange + and Northern tongue. + + Not wholly lost, O Father! is this evil world of + ours; + Upward, through its blood and ashes, spring afresh + the Eden flowers; + From its smoking hell of battle, Love and Pity + send their prayer, + And still thy white-winged angels hover dimly in + our air! + + 1847. + + + + +THE LEGEND OF ST. MARK. + +"This legend (to which my attention was called by my friend Charles +Sumner), is the subject of a celebrated picture by Tintoretto, of which +Mr. Rogers possesses the original sketch. The slave lies on the ground, +amid a crowd of spectators, who look on, animated by all the various +emotions of sympathy, rage, terror; a woman, in front, with a child in +her arms, has always been admired for the lifelike vivacity of her +attitude and expression. The executioner holds up the broken implements; +St. Mark, with a headlong movement, seems to rush down from heaven in +haste to save his worshipper. The dramatic grouping in this picture is +wonderful; the coloring, in its gorgeous depth and harmony, is, in Mr. +Rogers's sketch, finer than in the picture."--MRS. JAMESON'S Sacred and +Legendary Art, I. 154. + + THE day is closing dark and cold, + With roaring blast and sleety showers; + And through the dusk the lilacs wear + The bloom of snow, instead of flowers. + + I turn me from the gloom without, + To ponder o'er a tale of old; + A legend of the age of Faith, + By dreaming monk or abbess told. + + On Tintoretto's canvas lives + That fancy of a loving heart, + In graceful lines and shapes of power, + And hues immortal as his art. + + In Provence (so the story runs) + There lived a lord, to whom, as slave, + A peasant-boy of tender years + The chance of trade or conquest gave. + + Forth-looking from the castle tower, + Beyond the hills with almonds dark, + The straining eye could scarce discern + The chapel of the good St. Mark. + + And there, when bitter word or fare + The service of the youth repaid, + By stealth, before that holy shrine, + For grace to bear his wrong, he prayed. + + The steed stamped at the castle gate, + The boar-hunt sounded on the hill; + Why stayed the Baron from the chase, + With looks so stern, and words so ill? + + "Go, bind yon slave! and let him learn, + By scath of fire and strain of cord, + How ill they speed who give dead saints + The homage due their living lord!" + + They bound him on the fearful rack, + When, through the dungeon's vaulted dark, + He saw the light of shining robes, + And knew the face of good St. Mark. + + Then sank the iron rack apart, + The cords released their cruel clasp, + The pincers, with their teeth of fire, + Fell broken from the torturer's grasp. + + And lo! before the Youth and Saint, + Barred door and wall of stone gave way; + And up from bondage and the night + They passed to freedom and the day! + + O dreaming monk! thy tale is true; + O painter! true thy pencil's art; + in tones of hope and prophecy, + Ye whisper to my listening heart! + + Unheard no burdened heart's appeal + Moans up to God's inclining ear; + Unheeded by his tender eye, + Falls to the earth no sufferer's tear. + + For still the Lord alone is God + The pomp and power of tyrant man + Are scattered at his lightest breath, + Like chaff before the winnower's fan. + + Not always shall the slave uplift + His heavy hands to Heaven in vain. + God's angel, like the good St. Mark, + Comes shining down to break his chain! + + O weary ones! ye may not see + Your helpers in their downward flight; + Nor hear the sound of silver wings + Slow beating through the hush of night! + + But not the less gray Dothan shone, + With sunbright watchers bending low, + That Fear's dim eye beheld alone + The spear-heads of the Syrian foe. + + There are, who, like the Seer of old, + Can see the helpers God has sent, + And how life's rugged mountain-side + Is white with many an angel tent! + + They hear the heralds whom our Lord + Sends down his pathway to prepare; + And light, from others hidden, shines + On their high place of faith and prayer. + + Let such, for earth's despairing ones, + Hopeless, yet longing to be free, + Breathe once again the Prophet's prayer + "Lord, ope their eyes, that they may see!" + + 1849. + + + + +KATHLEEN. + +This ballad was originally published in my prose work, Leaves from +Margaret Smith's Journal, as the song of a wandering Milesian +schoolmaster. In the seventeenth century, slavery in the New World was +by no means confined to the natives of Africa. Political offenders and +criminals were transported by the British government to the plantations +of Barbadoes and Virginia, where they were sold like cattle in the +market. Kidnapping of free and innocent white persons was practised to a +considerable extent in the seaports of the United Kingdom. + + O NORAH, lay your basket down, + And rest your weary hand, + And come and hear me sing a song + Of our old Ireland. + + There was a lord of Galaway, + A mighty lord was he; + And he did wed a second wife, + A maid of low degree. + + But he was old, and she was young, + And so, in evil spite, + She baked the black bread for his kin, + And fed her own with white. + + She whipped the maids and starved the kern, + And drove away the poor; + "Ah, woe is me!" the old lord said, + "I rue my bargain sore!" + + This lord he had a daughter fair, + Beloved of old and young, + And nightly round the shealing-fires + Of her the gleeman sung. + + "As sweet and good is young Kathleen + As Eve before her fall;" + So sang the harper at the fair, + So harped he in the hall. + + "Oh, come to me, my daughter dear! + Come sit upon my knee, + For looking in your face, Kathleen, + Your mother's own I see!" + + He smoothed and smoothed her hair away, + He kissed her forehead fair; + "It is my darling Mary's brow, + It is my darling's hair!" + + Oh, then spake up the angry dame, + "Get up, get up," quoth she, + "I'll sell ye over Ireland, + I'll sell ye o'er the sea!" + + She clipped her glossy hair away, + That none her rank might know; + She took away her gown of silk, + And gave her one of tow, + + And sent her down to Limerick town + And to a seaman sold + This daughter of an Irish lord + For ten good pounds in gold. + + The lord he smote upon his breast, + And tore his beard so gray; + But he was old, and she was young, + And so she had her way. + + Sure that same night the Banshee howled + To fright the evil dame, + And fairy folks, who loved Kathleen, + With funeral torches came. + + She watched them glancing through the trees, + And glimmering down the hill; + They crept before the dead-vault door, + And there they all stood still! + + "Get up, old man! the wake-lights shine!" + "Ye murthering witch," quoth he, + "So I'm rid of your tongue, I little care + If they shine for you or me." + + "Oh, whoso brings my daughter back, + My gold and land shall have!" + Oh, then spake up his handsome page, + "No gold nor land I crave! + + "But give to me your daughter dear, + Give sweet Kathleen to me, + Be she on sea or be she on land, + I'll bring her back to thee." + + "My daughter is a lady born, + And you of low degree, + But she shall be your bride the day + You bring her back to me." + + He sailed east, he sailed west, + And far and long sailed he, + Until he came to Boston town, + Across the great salt sea. + + "Oh, have ye seen the young Kathleen, + The flower of Ireland? + Ye'll know her by her eyes so blue, + And by her snow-white hand!" + + Out spake an ancient man, "I know + The maiden whom ye mean; + I bought her of a Limerick man, + And she is called Kathleen. + + "No skill hath she in household work, + Her hands are soft and white, + Yet well by loving looks and ways + She doth her cost requite." + + So up they walked through Boston town, + And met a maiden fair, + A little basket on her arm + So snowy-white and bare. + + "Come hither, child, and say hast thou + This young man ever seen?" + They wept within each other's arms, + The page and young Kathleen. + + "Oh give to me this darling child, + And take my purse of gold." + "Nay, not by me," her master said, + "Shall sweet Kathleen be sold. + + "We loved her in the place of one + The Lord hath early ta'en; + But, since her heart's in Ireland, + We give her back again!" + + Oh, for that same the saints in heaven + For his poor soul shall pray, + And Mary Mother wash with tears + His heresies away. + + Sure now they dwell in Ireland; + As you go up Claremore + Ye'll see their castle looking down + The pleasant Galway shore. + + And the old lord's wife is dead and gone, + And a happy man is he, + For he sits beside his own Kathleen, + With her darling on his knee. + + 1849. + + + + +THE WELL OF LOCH MAREE + +Pennant, in his Voyage to the Hebrides, describes the holy well of Loch +Maree, the waters of which were supposed to effect a miraculous cure of +melancholy, trouble, and insanity. + + CALM on the breast of Loch Maree + A little isle reposes; + A shadow woven of the oak + And willow o'er it closes. + + Within, a Druid's mound is seen, + Set round with stony warders; + A fountain, gushing through the turf, + Flows o'er its grassy borders. + + And whoso bathes therein his brow, + With care or madness burning, + Feels once again his healthful thought + And sense of peace returning. + + O restless heart and fevered brain, + Unquiet and unstable, + That holy well of Loch Maree + Is more than idle fable! + + Life's changes vex, its discords stun, + Its glaring sunshine blindeth, + And blest is he who on his way + That fount of healing findeth! + + The shadows of a humbled will + And contrite heart are o'er it; + Go read its legend, "TRUST IN GOD," + On Faith's white stones before it. + + 1850. + + + + +THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS. + +The incident upon which this poem is based is related in a note to +Bernardin Henri Saint Pierre's Etudes de la Nature. "We arrived at the +habitation of the Hermits a little before they sat down to their table, +and while they were still at church. J. J. Rousseau proposed to me to +offer up our devotions. The hermits were reciting the Litanies of +Providence, which are remarkably beautiful. After we had addressed our +prayers to God, and the hermits were proceeding to the refectory, +Rousseau said to me, with his heart overflowing, 'At this moment I +experience what is said in the gospel: Where two or three are gathered +together in my name, there am I in the midst of them. There is here a +feeling of peace and happiness which penetrates the soul.' I said, 'If +Finelon had lived, you would have been a Catholic.' He exclaimed, with +tears in his eyes, 'Oh, if Finelon were alive, I would struggle to get +into his service, even as a lackey!'" In my sketch of Saint Pierre, it +will be seen that I have somewhat antedated the period of his old age. +At that time he was not probably more than fifty. In describing him, I +have by no means exaggerated his own history of his mental condition at +the period of the story. In the fragmentary Sequel to his Studies of +Nature, he thus speaks of himself: "The ingratitude of those of whom I +had deserved kindness, unexpected family misfortunes, the total loss of +my small patrimony through enterprises solely undertaken for the benefit +of my country, the debts under which I lay oppressed, the blasting of +all my hopes,--these combined calamities made dreadful inroads upon my +health and reason. . . . I found it impossible to continue in a room +where there was company, especially if the doors were shut. I could not +even cross an alley in a public garden, if several persons had got +together in it. When alone, my malady subsided. I felt myself likewise +at ease in places where I saw children only. At the sight of any one +walking up to the place where I was, I felt my whole frame agitated, and +retired. I often said to myself, 'My sole study has been to merit well +of mankind; why do I fear them?'" + +He attributes his improved health of mind and body to the counsels of +his friend, J. J. Rousseau. "I renounced," says he, "my books. I threw +my eyes upon the works of nature, which spake to all my senses a +language which neither time nor nations have it in their power to alter. +Thenceforth my histories and my journals were the herbage of the fields +and meadows. My thoughts did not go forth painfully after them, as in +the case of human systems; but their thoughts, under a thousand engaging +forms, quietly sought me. In these I studied, without effort, the laws +of that Universal Wisdom which had surrounded me from the cradle, but on +which heretofore I had bestowed little attention." + +Speaking of Rousseau, he says: "I derived inexpressible satisfaction +from his society. What I prized still more than his genius was his +probity. He was one of the few literary characters, tried in the furnace +of affliction, to whom you could, with perfect security, confide your +most secret thoughts. . . . Even when he deviated, and became the victim +of himself or of others, he could forget his own misery in devotion to +the welfare of mankind. He was uniformly the advocate of the miserable. +There might be inscribed on his tomb these affecting words from that +Book of which he carried always about him some select passages, during +the last years of his life: 'His sins, which are many, are forgiven, for +he loved much.'" + + "I DO believe, and yet, in grief, + I pray for help to unbelief; + For needful strength aside to lay + The daily cumberings of my way. + + "I 'm sick at heart of craft and cant, + Sick of the crazed enthusiast's rant, + Profession's smooth hypocrisies, + And creeds of iron, and lives of ease. + + "I ponder o'er the sacred word, + I read the record of our Lord; + And, weak and troubled, envy them + Who touched His seamless garment's hem; + + "Who saw the tears of love He wept + Above the grave where Lazarus slept; + And heard, amidst the shadows dim + Of Olivet, His evening hymn. + + "How blessed the swineherd's low estate, + The beggar crouching at the gate, + The leper loathly and abhorred, + Whose eyes of flesh beheld the Lord! + + "O sacred soil His sandals pressed! + Sweet fountains of His noonday rest! + O light and air of Palestine, + Impregnate with His life divine! + + "Oh, bear me thither! Let me look + On Siloa's pool, and Kedron's brook; + Kneel at Gethsemane, and by + Gennesaret walk, before I die! + + "Methinks this cold and northern night + Would melt before that Orient light; + And, wet by Hermon's dew and rain, + My childhood's faith revive again!" + + So spake my friend, one autumn day, + Where the still river slid away + Beneath us, and above the brown + Red curtains of the woods shut down. + + Then said I,--for I could not brook + The mute appealing of his look,-- + "I, too, am weak, and faith is small, + And blindness happeneth unto all. + + "Yet, sometimes glimpses on my sight, + Through present wrong, the eternal right; + And, step by step, since time began, + I see the steady gain of man; + + "That all of good the past hath had + Remains to make our own time glad, + Our common daily life divine, + And every land a Palestine. + + "Thou weariest of thy present state; + What gain to thee time's holiest date? + The doubter now perchance had been + As High Priest or as Pilate then! + + "What thought Chorazin's scribes? What faith + In Him had Nain and Nazareth? + Of the few followers whom He led + One sold Him,--all forsook and fled. + + "O friend! we need nor rock nor sand, + Nor storied stream of Morning-Land; + The heavens are glassed in Merrimac,-- + What more could Jordan render back? + + "We lack but open eye and ear + To find the Orient's marvels here; + The still small voice in autumn's hush, + Yon maple wood the burning bush. + + "For still the new transcends the old, + In signs and tokens manifold; + Slaves rise up men; the olive waves, + With roots deep set in battle graves! + + "Through the harsh noises of our day + A low, sweet prelude finds its way; + Through clouds of doubt, and creeds of fear, + A light is breaking, calm and clear. + + "That song of Love, now low and far, + Erelong shall swell from star to star! + That light, the breaking day, which tips + The golden-spired Apocalypse!" + + Then, when my good friend shook his head, + And, sighing, sadly smiled, I said: + "Thou mind'st me of a story told + In rare Bernardin's leaves of gold." + + And while the slanted sunbeams wove + The shadows of the frost-stained grove, + And, picturing all, the river ran + O'er cloud and wood, I thus began:-- + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . + + In Mount Valerien's chestnut wood + The Chapel of the Hermits stood; + And thither, at the close of day, + Came two old pilgrims, worn and gray. + + One, whose impetuous youth defied + The storms of Baikal's wintry side, + And mused and dreamed where tropic day + Flamed o'er his lost Virginia's bay. + + His simple tale of love and woe + All hearts had melted, high or low;-- + A blissful pain, a sweet distress, + Immortal in its tenderness. + + Yet, while above his charmed page + Beat quick the young heart of his age, + He walked amidst the crowd unknown, + A sorrowing old man, strange and lone. + + A homeless, troubled age,--the gray + Pale setting of a weary day; + Too dull his ear for voice of praise, + Too sadly worn his brow for bays. + + Pride, lust of power and glory, slept; + Yet still his heart its young dream kept, + And, wandering like the deluge-dove, + Still sought the resting-place of love. + + And, mateless, childless, envied more + The peasant's welcome from his door + By smiling eyes at eventide, + Than kingly gifts or lettered pride. + + Until, in place of wife and child, + All-pitying Nature on him smiled, + And gave to him the golden keys + To all her inmost sanctities. + + Mild Druid of her wood-paths dim! + She laid her great heart bare to him, + Its loves and sweet accords;--he saw + The beauty of her perfect law. + + The language of her signs lie knew, + What notes her cloudy clarion blew; + The rhythm of autumn's forest dyes, + The hymn of sunset's painted skies. + + And thus he seemed to hear the song + Which swept, of old, the stars along; + And to his eyes the earth once more + Its fresh and primal beauty wore. + + Who sought with him, from summer air, + And field and wood, a balm for care; + And bathed in light of sunset skies + His tortured nerves and weary eyes? + + His fame on all the winds had flown; + His words had shaken crypt and throne; + Like fire, on camp and court and cell + They dropped, and kindled as they fell. + + Beneath the pomps of state, below + The mitred juggler's masque and show, + A prophecy, a vague hope, ran + His burning thought from man to man. + + For peace or rest too well he saw + The fraud of priests, the wrong of law, + And felt how hard, between the two, + Their breath of pain the millions drew. + + A prophet-utterance, strong and wild, + The weakness of an unweaned child, + A sun-bright hope for human-kind, + And self-despair, in him combined. + + He loathed the false, yet lived not true + To half the glorious truths he knew; + The doubt, the discord, and the sin, + He mourned without, he felt within. + + Untrod by him the path he showed, + Sweet pictures on his easel glowed + Of simple faith, and loves of home, + And virtue's golden days to come. + + But weakness, shame, and folly made + The foil to all his pen portrayed; + Still, where his dreamy splendors shone, + The shadow of himself was thrown. + + Lord, what is man, whose thought, at times, + Up to Thy sevenfold brightness climbs, + While still his grosser instinct clings + To earth, like other creeping things! + + So rich in words, in acts so mean; + So high, so low; chance-swung between + The foulness of the penal pit + And Truth's clear sky, millennium-lit! + + Vain, pride of star-lent genius!--vain, + Quick fancy and creative brain, + Unblest by prayerful sacrifice, + Absurdly great, or weakly wise! + + Midst yearnings for a truer life, + Without were fears, within was strife; + And still his wayward act denied + The perfect good for which he sighed. + + The love he sent forth void returned; + The fame that crowned him scorched and burned, + Burning, yet cold and drear and lone,-- + A fire-mount in a frozen zone! + + Like that the gray-haired sea-king passed,(9) + Seen southward from his sleety mast, + About whose brows of changeless frost + A wreath of flame the wild winds tossed. + + Far round the mournful beauty played + Of lambent light and purple shade, + Lost on the fixed and dumb despair + Of frozen earth and sea and air! + + A man apart, unknown, unloved + By those whose wrongs his soul had moved, + He bore the ban of Church and State, + The good man's fear, the bigot's hate! + + Forth from the city's noise and throng, + Its pomp and shame, its sin and wrong, + The twain that summer day had strayed + To Mount Valerien's chestnut shade. + + To them the green fields and the wood + Lent something of their quietude, + And golden-tinted sunset seemed + Prophetical of all they dreamed. + + The hermits from their simple cares + The bell was calling home to prayers, + And, listening to its sound, the twain + Seemed lapped in childhood's trust again. + + Wide open stood the chapel door; + A sweet old music, swelling o'er + Low prayerful murmurs, issued thence,-- + The Litanies of Providence! + + Then Rousseau spake: "Where two or three + In His name meet, He there will be!" + And then, in silence, on their knees + They sank beneath the chestnut-trees. + + As to the blind returning light, + As daybreak to the Arctic night, + Old faith revived; the doubts of years + Dissolved in reverential tears. + + That gush of feeling overpast, + "Ah me!" Bernardin sighed at last, + I would thy bitterest foes could see + Thy heart as it is seen of me! + + "No church of God hast thou denied; + Thou hast but spurned in scorn aside + A bare and hollow counterfeit, + Profaning the pure name of it! + + "With dry dead moss and marish weeds + His fire the western herdsman feeds, + And greener from the ashen plain + The sweet spring grasses rise again. + + "Nor thunder-peal nor mighty wind + Disturb the solid sky behind; + And through the cloud the red bolt rends + The calm, still smile of Heaven descends. + + "Thus through the world, like bolt and blast, + And scourging fire, thy words have passed. + Clouds break,--the steadfast heavens remain; + Weeds burn,--the ashes feed the grain! + + "But whoso strives with wrong may find + Its touch pollute, its darkness blind; + And learn, as latent fraud is shown + In others' faith, to doubt his own. + + "With dream and falsehood, simple trust + And pious hope we tread in dust; + Lost the calm faith in goodness,--lost + The baptism of the Pentecost! + + "Alas!--the blows for error meant + Too oft on truth itself are spent, + As through the false and vile and base + Looks forth her sad, rebuking face. + + "Not ours the Theban's charmed life; + We come not scathless from the strife! + The Python's coil about us clings, + The trampled Hydra bites and stings! + + "Meanwhile, the sport of seeming chance, + The plastic shapes of circumstance, + What might have been we fondly guess, + If earlier born, or tempted less. + + "And thou, in these wild, troubled days, + Misjudged alike in blame and praise, + Unsought and undeserved the same + The skeptic's praise, the bigot's blame;-- + + "I cannot doubt, if thou hadst been + Among the highly favored men + Who walked on earth with Fenelon, + He would have owned thee as his son; + + "And, bright with wings of cherubim + Visibly waving over him, + Seen through his life, the Church had seemed + All that its old confessors dreamed." + + "I would have been," Jean Jaques replied, + "The humblest servant at his side, + Obscure, unknown, content to see + How beautiful man's life may be! + + "Oh, more than thrice-blest relic, more + Than solemn rite or sacred lore, + The holy life of one who trod + The foot-marks of the Christ of God! + + "Amidst a blinded world he saw + The oneness of the Dual law; + That Heaven's sweet peace on Earth began, + And God was loved through love of man. + + "He lived the Truth which reconciled + The strong man Reason, Faith the child; + In him belief and act were one, + The homilies of duty done!" + + So speaking, through the twilight gray + The two old pilgrims went their way. + What seeds of life that day were sown, + The heavenly watchers knew alone. + + Time passed, and Autumn came to fold + Green Summer in her brown and gold; + Time passed, and Winter's tears of snow + Dropped on the grave-mound of Rousseau. + + "The tree remaineth where it fell, + The pained on earth is pained in hell!" + So priestcraft from its altars cursed + The mournful doubts its falsehood nursed. + + Ah! well of old the Psalmist prayed, + "Thy hand, not man's, on me be laid!" + Earth frowns below, Heaven weeps above, + And man is hate, but God is love! + + No Hermits now the wanderer sees, + Nor chapel with its chestnut-trees; + A morning dream, a tale that's told, + The wave of change o'er all has rolled. + + Yet lives the lesson of that day; + And from its twilight cool and gray + Comes up a low, sad whisper, "Make + The truth thine own, for truth's own sake. + + "Why wait to see in thy brief span + Its perfect flower and fruit in man? + No saintly touch can save; no balm + Of healing hath the martyr's palm. + + "Midst soulless forms, and false pretence + Of spiritual pride and pampered sense, + A voice saith, 'What is that to thee? + Be true thyself, and follow Me! + + "In days when throne and altar heard + The wanton's wish, the bigot's word, + And pomp of state and ritual show + Scarce hid the loathsome death below,-- + + "Midst fawning priests and courtiers foul, + The losel swarm of crown and cowl, + White-robed walked Francois Fenelon, + Stainless as Uriel in the sun! + + "Yet in his time the stake blazed red, + The poor were eaten up like bread + Men knew him not; his garment's hem + No healing virtue had for them. + + "Alas! no present saint we find; + The white cymar gleams far behind, + Revealed in outline vague, sublime, + Through telescopic mists of time! + + "Trust not in man with passing breath, + But in the Lord, old Scripture saith; + The truth which saves thou mayst not blend + With false professor, faithless friend. + + "Search thine own heart. What paineth thee + In others in thyself may be; + All dust is frail, all flesh is weak; + Be thou the true man thou dost seek! + + "Where now with pain thou treadest, trod + The whitest of the saints of God! + To show thee where their feet were set, + the light which led them shineth yet. + + "The footprints of the life divine, + Which marked their path, remain in thine; + And that great Life, transfused in theirs, + Awaits thy faith, thy love, thy prayers!" + + A lesson which I well may heed, + A word of fitness to my need; + So from that twilight cool and gray + Still saith a voice, or seems to say. + + We rose, and slowly homeward turned, + While down the west the sunset burned; + And, in its light, hill, wood, and tide, + And human forms seemed glorified. + + The village homes transfigured stood, + And purple bluffs, whose belting wood + Across the waters leaned to hold + The yellow leaves like lamps of hold. + + Then spake my friend: "Thy words are true; + Forever old, forever new, + These home-seen splendors are the same + Which over Eden's sunsets came. + + "To these bowed heavens let wood and hill + Lift voiceless praise and anthem still; + Fall, warm with blessing, over them, + Light of the New Jerusalem! + + "Flow on, sweet river, like the stream + Of John's Apocalyptic dream + This mapled ridge shall Horeb be, + Yon green-banked lake our Galilee! + + "Henceforth my heart shall sigh no more + For olden time and holier shore; + God's love and blessing, then and there, + Are now and here and everywhere." + + 1851. + + + + +TAULER. + + TAULER, the preacher, walked, one autumn day, + Without the walls of Strasburg, by the Rhine, + Pondering the solemn Miracle of Life; + As one who, wandering in a starless night, + Feels momently the jar of unseen waves, + And hears the thunder of an unknown sea, + Breaking along an unimagined shore. + + And as he walked he prayed. Even the same + Old prayer with which, for half a score of years, + Morning, and noon, and evening, lip and heart + Had groaned: "Have pity upon me, Lord! + Thou seest, while teaching others, I am blind. + Send me a man who can direct my steps!" + + Then, as he mused, he heard along his path + A sound as of an old man's staff among + The dry, dead linden-leaves; and, looking up, + He saw a stranger, weak, and poor, and old. + + "Peace be unto thee, father!" Tauler said, + "God give thee a good day!" The old man raised + Slowly his calm blue eyes. "I thank thee, son; + But all my days are good, and none are ill." + + Wondering thereat, the preacher spake again, + "God give thee happy life." The old man smiled, + "I never am unhappy." + + Tauler laid + His hand upon the stranger's coarse gray sleeve + "Tell me, O father, what thy strange words mean. + Surely man's days are evil, and his life + Sad as the grave it leads to." "Nay, my son, + Our times are in God's hands, and all our days + Are as our needs; for shadow as for sun, + For cold as heat, for want as wealth, alike + Our thanks are due, since that is best which is; + And that which is not, sharing not His life, + Is evil only as devoid of good. + And for the happiness of which I spake, + I find it in submission to his will, + And calm trust in the holy Trinity + Of Knowledge, Goodness, and Almighty Power." + + Silently wondering, for a little space, + Stood the great preacher; then he spake as one + Who, suddenly grappling with a haunting thought + Which long has followed, whispering through the dark + Strange terrors, drags it, shrieking, into light + "What if God's will consign thee hence to Hell?" + + "Then," said the stranger, cheerily, "be it so. + What Hell may be I know not; this I know,-- + I cannot lose the presence of the Lord. + One arm, Humility, takes hold upon + His dear Humanity; the other, Love, + Clasps his Divinity. So where I go + He goes; and better fire-walled Hell with Him + Than golden-gated Paradise without." + + Tears sprang in Tauler's eyes. A sudden light, + Like the first ray which fell on chaos, clove + Apart the shadow wherein he had walked + Darkly at noon. And, as the strange old man + Went his slow way, until his silver hair + Set like the white moon where the hills of vine + Slope to the Rhine, he bowed his head and said + "My prayer is answered. God hath sent the man + Long sought, to teach me, by his simple trust, + Wisdom the weary schoolmen never knew." + + So, entering with a changed and cheerful step + The city gates, he saw, far down the street, + A mighty shadow break the light of noon, + Which tracing backward till its airy lines + Hardened to stony plinths, he raised his eyes + O'er broad facade and lofty pediment, + O'er architrave and frieze and sainted niche, + Up the stone lace-work chiselled by the wise + Erwin of Steinbach, dizzily up to where + In the noon-brightness the great Minster's tower, + Jewelled with sunbeams on its mural crown, + Rose like a visible prayer. "Behold!" he said, + "The stranger's faith made plain before mine eyes. + As yonder tower outstretches to the earth + The dark triangle of its shade alone + When the clear day is shining on its top, + So, darkness in the pathway of Man's life + Is but the shadow of God's providence, + By the great Sun of Wisdom cast thereon; + And what is dark below is light in Heaven." + + 1853. + + + + +THE HERMIT OF THE THEBAID. + + O STRONG, upwelling prayers of faith, + From inmost founts of life ye start,-- + The spirit's pulse, the vital breath + Of soul and heart! + + From pastoral toil, from traffic's din, + Alone, in crowds, at home, abroad, + Unheard of man, ye enter in + The ear of God. + + Ye brook no forced and measured tasks, + Nor weary rote, nor formal chains; + The simple heart, that freely asks + In love, obtains. + + For man the living temple is + The mercy-seat and cherubim, + And all the holy mysteries, + He bears with him. + + And most avails the prayer of love, + Which, wordless, shapes itself in needs, + And wearies Heaven for naught above + Our common needs. + + Which brings to God's all-perfect will + That trust of His undoubting child + Whereby all seeming good and ill + Are reconciled. + + And, seeking not for special signs + Of favor, is content to fall + Within the providence which shines + And rains on all. + + Alone, the Thebaid hermit leaned + At noontime o'er the sacred word. + Was it an angel or a fiend + Whose voice be heard? + + It broke the desert's hush of awe, + A human utterance, sweet and mild; + And, looking up, the hermit saw + A little child. + + A child, with wonder-widened eyes, + O'erawed and troubled by the sight + Of hot, red sands, and brazen skies, + And anchorite. + + "'What dost thou here, poor man? No shade + Of cool, green palms, nor grass, nor well, + Nor corn, nor vines." The hermit said + "With God I dwell. + + "Alone with Him in this great calm, + I live not by the outward sense; + My Nile his love, my sheltering palm + His providence." + + The child gazed round him. "Does God live + Here only?--where the desert's rim + Is green with corn, at morn and eve, + We pray to Him. + + "My brother tills beside the Nile + His little field; beneath the leaves + My sisters sit and spin, the while + My mother weaves. + + "And when the millet's ripe heads fall, + And all the bean-field hangs in pod, + My mother smiles, and, says that all + Are gifts from God." + + Adown the hermit's wasted cheeks + Glistened the flow of human tears; + "Dear Lord!" he said, "Thy angel speaks, + Thy servant hears." + + Within his arms the child he took, + And thought of home and life with men; + And all his pilgrim feet forsook + Returned again. + + The palmy shadows cool and long, + The eyes that smiled through lavish locks, + Home's cradle-hymn and harvest-song, + And bleat of flocks. + + "O child!" he said, "thou teachest me + There is no place where God is not; + That love will make, where'er it be, + A holy spot." + + He rose from off the desert sand, + And, leaning on his staff of thorn, + Went with the young child hand in hand, + Like night with morn. + + They crossed the desert's burning line, + And heard the palm-tree's rustling fan, + The Nile-bird's cry, the low of kine, + And voice of man. + + Unquestioning, his childish guide + He followed, as the small hand led + To where a woman, gentle-eyed, + Her distaff fed. + + She rose, she clasped her truant boy, + She thanked the stranger with her eyes; + The hermit gazed in doubt and joy + And dumb surprise. + + And to!--with sudden warmth and light + A tender memory thrilled his frame; + New-born, the world-lost anchorite + A man became. + + "O sister of El Zara's race, + Behold me!--had we not one mother?" + She gazed into the stranger's face + "Thou art my brother!" + + "And when to share our evening meal, + She calls the stranger at the door, + She says God fills the hands that deal + Food to the poor." + + "O kin of blood! Thy life of use + And patient trust is more than mine; + And wiser than the gray recluse + This child of thine. + + "For, taught of him whom God hath sent, + That toil is praise, and love is prayer, + I come, life's cares and pains content + With thee to share." + + Even as his foot the threshold crossed, + The hermit's better life began; + Its holiest saint the Thebaid lost, + And found a man! + + 1854. + + + + +MAUD MULLER. + +The recollection of some descendants of a Hessian deserter in the +Revolutionary war bearing the name of Muller doubtless suggested the +somewhat infelicitous title of a New England idyl. The poem had no real +foundation in fact, though a hint of it may have been found in recalling +an incident, trivial in itself, of a journey on the picturesque Maine +seaboard with my sister some years before it was written. We had stopped +to rest our tired horse under the shade of an apple-tree, and refresh +him with water from a little brook which rippled through the stone wall +across the road. A very beautiful young girl in scantest summer attire +was at work in the hay-field, and as we talked with her we noticed that +she strove to hide her bare feet by raking hay over them, blushing as +she did so, through the tan of her cheek and neck. + + MAUD MULLER on a summer's day, + Raked the meadow sweet with hay. + + Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth + Of simple beauty and rustic-health. + + Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee + The mock-bird echoed from his tree. + + But when she glanced to the far-off town, + White from its hill-slope looking down, + + The sweet song died, and a vague unrest + And a nameless longing filled her breast,-- + + A wish, that she hardly dared to own, + For something better than she had known. + + The Judge rode slowly down the lane, + Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane. + + He drew his bridle in the shade + Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, + + And asked a draught from the spring that flowed + Through the meadow across the road. + + She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, + And filled for him her small tin cup, + + And blushed as she gave it, looking down + On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown. + + "Thanks!" said the Judge; "a sweeter draught + From a fairer hand was never quaffed." + + He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees, + Of the singing birds and the humming bees; + + Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether + The cloud in the west would bring foul weather. + + And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown, + And her graceful ankles bare and brown; + + And listened, while a pleased surprise + Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes. + + At last, like one who for delay + Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. + + Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah me! + That I the Judge's bride might be! + + "He would dress me up in silks so fine, + And praise and toast me at his wine. + + "My father should wear a broadcloth coat; + My brother should sail a painted boat. + + "I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, + And the baby should have a new toy each day. + + "And I 'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor, + And all should bless me who left our door." + + The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, + And saw Maud Muller standing still. + + A form more fair, a face more sweet, + Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. + + "And her modest answer and graceful air + Show her wise and good as she is fair. + + "Would she were mine, and I to-day, + Like her, a harvester of hay; + + "No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, + Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, + + "But low of cattle and song of birds, + And health and quiet and loving words." + + But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold, + And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. + + So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, + And Maud was left in the field alone. + + But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, + When he hummed in court an old love-tune; + + And the young girl mused beside the well + Till the rain on the unraked clover fell. + + He wedded a wife of richest dower, + Who lived for fashion, as he for power. + + Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, + He watched a picture come and go; + + And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes + Looked out in their innocent surprise. + + Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, + He longed for the wayside well instead; + + And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms + To dream of meadows and clover-blooms. + + And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain, + "Ah, that I were free again! + + "Free as when I rode that day, + Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay." + + She wedded a man unlearned and poor, + And many children played round her door. + + But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain, + Left their traces on heart and brain. + + And oft, when the summer sun shone hot + On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot, + + And she heard the little spring brook fall + Over the roadside, through the wall, + + In the shade of the apple-tree again + She saw a rider draw his rein. + + And, gazing down with timid grace, + She felt his pleased eyes read her face. + + Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls + Stretched away into stately halls; + + The weary wheel to a spinnet turned, + The tallow candle an astral burned, + + And for him who sat by the chimney lug, + Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, + + A manly form at her side she saw, + And joy was duty and love was law. + + Then she took up her burden of life again, + Saying only, "It might have been." + + Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, + For rich repiner and household drudge! + + God pity them both! and pity us all, + Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. + + For of all sad words of tongue or pen, + The saddest are these: "It might have been!" + + Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies + Deeply buried from human eyes; + + And, in the hereafter, angels may + Roll the stone from its grave away! + + 1854. + + + + +MARY GARVIN. + + FROM the heart of Waumbek Methna, from the + lake that never fails, + Falls the Saco in the green lap of Conway's + intervales; + There, in wild and virgin freshness, its waters + foam and flow, + As when Darby Field first saw them, two hundred + years ago. + + But, vexed in all its seaward course with bridges, + dams, and mills, + How changed is Saco's stream, how lost its freedom + of the hills, + Since travelled Jocelyn, factor Vines, and stately + Champernoon + Heard on its banks the gray wolf's howl, the trumpet + of the loon! + + With smoking axle hot with speed, with steeds of + fire and steam, + Wide-waked To-day leaves Yesterday behind him + like a dream. + Still, from the hurrying train of Life, fly backward + far and fast + The milestones of the fathers, the landmarks of + the past. + + But human hearts remain unchanged: the sorrow + and the sin, + The loves and hopes and fears of old, are to our + own akin; + + And if, in tales our fathers told, the songs our + mothers sung, + Tradition wears a snowy beard, Romance is always + young. + + O sharp-lined man of traffic, on Saco's banks today! + O mill-girl watching late and long the shuttle's + restless play! + Let, for the once, a listening ear the working hand + beguile, + And lend my old Provincial tale, as suits, a tear or + smile! + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . + + The evening gun had sounded from gray Fort + Mary's walls; + Through the forest, like a wild beast, roared and + plunged the Saco's' falls. + + And westward on the sea-wind, that damp and + gusty grew, + Over cedars darkening inland the smokes of Spurwink + blew. + + On the hearth of Farmer Garvin, blazed the crackling + walnut log; + Right and left sat dame and goodman, and between + them lay the dog, + + Head on paws, and tail slow wagging, and beside + him on her mat, + Sitting drowsy in the firelight, winked and purred + the mottled cat. + + "Twenty years!" said Goodman Garvin, speaking + sadly, under breath, + And his gray head slowly shaking, as one who + speaks of death. + + The goodwife dropped her needles: "It is twenty + years to-day, + Since the Indians fell on Saco, and stole our child + away." + + Then they sank into the silence, for each knew + the other's thought, + Of a great and common sorrow, and words were, + needed not. + + "Who knocks?" cried Goodman Garvin. The + door was open thrown; + On two strangers, man and maiden, cloaked and + furred, the fire-light shone. + + One with courteous gesture lifted the bear-skin + from his head; + "Lives here Elkanah Garvin?" "I am he," the + goodman said. + + "Sit ye down, and dry and warm ye, for the night + is chill with rain." + And the goodwife drew the settle, and stirred the + fire amain. + + The maid unclasped her cloak-hood, the firelight + glistened fair + In her large, moist eyes, and over soft folds of + dark brown hair. + + Dame Garvin looked upon her: "It is Mary's self + I see!" + "Dear heart!" she cried, "now tell me, has my + child come back to me?" + + "My name indeed is Mary," said the stranger sobbing + wild; + "Will you be to me a mother? I am Mary Garvin's child!" + + "She sleeps by wooded Simcoe, but on her dying + day + She bade my father take me to her kinsfolk far + away. + + "And when the priest besought her to do me no + such wrong, + She said, 'May God forgive me! I have closed + my heart too long.' + + "'When I hid me from my father, and shut out + my mother's call, + I sinned against those dear ones, and the Father + of us all. + + "'Christ's love rebukes no home-love, breaks no + tie of kin apart; + Better heresy in doctrine, than heresy of heart. + + "'Tell me not the Church must censure: she who + wept the Cross beside + Never made her own flesh strangers, nor the claims + of blood denied; + + "'And if she who wronged her parents, with her + child atones to them, + Earthly daughter, Heavenly Mother! thou at least + wilt not condemn!' + + "So, upon her death-bed lying, my blessed mother + spake; + As we come to do her bidding, So receive us for her + sake." + + "God be praised!" said Goodwife Garvin, "He taketh, + and He gives; + He woundeth, but He healeth; in her child our + daughter lives!" + + "Amen!" the old man answered, as he brushed a + tear away, + And, kneeling by his hearthstone, said, with reverence, + "Let us pray." + + All its Oriental symbols, and its Hebrew pararphrase, + Warm with earnest life and feeling, rose his prayer + of love and praise. + + But he started at beholding, as he rose from off + his knee, + The stranger cross his forehead with the sign of + Papistrie. + + "What is this?" cried Farmer Garvin. "Is an English + Christian's home + A chapel or a mass-house, that you make the sign + of Rome?" + + Then the young girl knelt beside him, kissed his + trembling hand, and cried: + Oh, forbear to chide my father; in that faith my + mother died! + + "On her wooden cross at Simcoe the dews and + sunshine fall, + As they fall on Spurwink's graveyard; and the + dear God watches all!" + + The old man stroked the fair head that rested on + his knee; + "Your words, dear child," he answered, "are God's + rebuke to me. + + "Creed and rite perchance may differ, yet our + faith and hope be one. + Let me be your father's father, let him be to me + a son." + + When the horn, on Sabbath morning, through the + still and frosty air, + From Spurwink, Pool, and Black Point, called to + sermon and to prayer, + + To the goodly house of worship, where, in order + due and fit, + As by public vote directed, classed and ranked the + people sit; + + Mistress first and goodwife after, clerkly squire + before the clown, + "From the brave coat, lace-embroidered, to the gray + frock, shading down;" + + From the pulpit read the preacher, "Goodman + Garvin and his wife + Fain would thank the Lord, whose kindness has + followed them through life, + + "For the great and crowning mercy, that their + daughter, from the wild, + Where she rests (they hope in God's peace), has + sent to them her child; + + "And the prayers of all God's people they ask, + that they may prove + Not unworthy, through their weakness, of such + special proof of love." + + As the preacher prayed, uprising, the aged couple + stood, + And the fair Canadian also, in her modest maiden- + hood. + + Thought the elders, grave and doubting, "She is + Papist born and bred;" + Thought the young men, "'T is an angel in Mary + Garvin's stead!" + + + + +THE RANGER. + +Originally published as Martha Mason; a Song of the Old +French War. + + ROBERT RAWLIN!--Frosts were falling + When the ranger's horn was calling + Through the woods to Canada. + + Gone the winter's sleet and snowing, + Gone the spring-time's bud and blowing, + Gone the summer's harvest mowing, + And again the fields are gray. + Yet away, he's away! + Faint and fainter hope is growing + In the hearts that mourn his stay. + + Where the lion, crouching high on + Abraham's rock with teeth of iron, + Glares o'er wood and wave away, + Faintly thence, as pines far sighing, + Or as thunder spent and dying, + Come the challenge and replying, + Come the sounds of flight and fray. + Well-a-day! Hope and pray! + Some are living, some are lying + In their red graves far away. + + Straggling rangers, worn with dangers, + Homeward faring, weary strangers + Pass the farm-gate on their way; + Tidings of the dead and living, + Forest march and ambush, giving, + Till the maidens leave their weaving, + And the lads forget their play. + "Still away, still away!" + Sighs a sad one, sick with grieving, + "Why does Robert still delay!" + + Nowhere fairer, sweeter, rarer, + Does the golden-locked fruit bearer + Through his painted woodlands stray, + Than where hillside oaks and beeches + Overlook the long, blue reaches, + Silver coves and pebbled beaches, + And green isles of Casco Bay; + Nowhere day, for delay, + With a tenderer look beseeches, + "Let me with my charmed earth stay." + + On the grain-lands of the mainlands + Stands the serried corn like train-bands, + Plume and pennon rustling gay; + Out at sea, the islands wooded, + Silver birches, golden-hooded, + Set with maples, crimson-blooded, + White sea-foam and sand-hills gray, + Stretch away, far away. + Dim and dreamy, over-brooded + By the hazy autumn day. + + Gayly chattering to the clattering + Of the brown nuts downward pattering, + Leap the squirrels, red and gray. + On the grass-land, on the fallow, + Drop the apples, red and yellow; + Drop the russet pears and mellow, + Drop the red leaves all the day. + And away, swift away, + Sun and cloud, o'er hill and hollow + Chasing, weave their web of play. + + "Martha Mason, Martha Mason, + Prithee tell us of the reason + Why you mope at home to-day + Surely smiling is not sinning; + Leave, your quilling, leave your spinning; + What is all your store of linen, + If your heart is never gay? + Come away, come away! + Never yet did sad beginning + Make the task of life a play." + + Overbending, till she's blending + With the flaxen skein she's tending + Pale brown tresses smoothed away + From her face of patient sorrow, + Sits she, seeking but to borrow, + From the trembling hope of morrow, + Solace for the weary day. + "Go your way, laugh and play; + Unto Him who heeds the sparrow + And the lily, let me pray." + + "With our rally, rings the valley,-- + Join us!" cried the blue-eyed Nelly; + "Join us!" cried the laughing May, + "To the beach we all are going, + And, to save the task of rowing, + West by north the wind is blowing, + Blowing briskly down the bay + Come away, come away! + Time and tide are swiftly flowing, + Let us take them while we may! + + "Never tell us that you'll fail us, + Where the purple beach-plum mellows + On the bluffs so wild and gray. + Hasten, for the oars are falling; + Hark, our merry mates are calling; + Time it is that we were all in, + Singing tideward down the bay!" + "Nay, nay, let me stay; + Sore and sad for Robert Rawlin + Is my heart," she said, "to-day." + + "Vain your calling for Rob Rawlin + Some red squaw his moose-meat's broiling, + Or some French lass, singing gay; + Just forget as he's forgetting; + What avails a life of fretting? + If some stars must needs be setting, + Others rise as good as they." + "Cease, I pray; go your way!" + Martha cries, her eyelids wetting; + "Foul and false the words you say!" + + "Martha Mason, hear to reason!-- + Prithee, put a kinder face on!" + "Cease to vex me," did she say; + "Better at his side be lying, + With the mournful pine-trees sighing, + And the wild birds o'er us crying, + Than to doubt like mine a prey; + While away, far away, + Turns my heart, forever trying + Some new hope for each new day. + + "When the shadows veil the meadows, + And the sunset's golden ladders + Sink from twilight's walls of gray,-- + From the window of my dreaming, + I can see his sickle gleaming, + Cheery-voiced, can hear him teaming + Down the locust-shaded way; + But away, swift away, + Fades the fond, delusive seeming, + And I kneel again to pray. + + "When the growing dawn is showing, + And the barn-yard cock is crowing, + And the horned moon pales away + From a dream of him awaking, + Every sound my heart is making + Seems a footstep of his taking; + Then I hush the thought, and say, + 'Nay, nay, he's away!' + Ah! my heart, my heart is breaking + For the dear one far away." + + Look up, Martha! worn and swarthy, + Glows a face of manhood worthy + "Robert!" "Martha!" all they say. + O'er went wheel and reel together, + Little cared the owner whither; + Heart of lead is heart of feather, + Noon of night is noon of day! + Come away, come away! + When such lovers meet each other, + Why should prying idlers stay? + + Quench the timber's fallen embers, + Quench the recd leaves in December's + Hoary rime and chilly spray. + + But the hearth shall kindle clearer, + Household welcomes sound sincerer, + Heart to loving heart draw nearer, + When the bridal bells shall say: + "Hope and pray, trust alway; + Life is sweeter, love is dearer, + For the trial and delay!" + + 1856. + + + + +THE GARRISON OF CAPE ANN. + + FROM the hills of home forth looking, far beneath + the tent-like span + Of the sky, I see the white gleam of the headland + of Cape Ann. + Well I know its coves and beaches to the ebb-tide + glimmering down, + And the white-walled hamlet children of its ancient + fishing town. + + Long has passed the summer morning, and its + memory waxes old, + When along yon breezy headlands with a pleasant + friend I strolled. + Ah! the autumn sun is shining, and the ocean + wind blows cool, + And the golden-rod and aster bloom around thy + grave, Rantoul! + + With the memory of that morning by the summer + sea I blend + A wild and wondrous story, by the younger Mather + penned, + In that quaint Magnalia Christi, with all strange + and marvellous things, + Heaped up huge and undigested, like the chaos + Ovid sings. + + Dear to me these far, faint glimpses of the dual + life of old, + Inward, grand with awe and reverence; outward, + mean and coarse and cold; + Gleams of mystic beauty playing over dull and + vulgar clay, + Golden-threaded fancies weaving in a web of + hodden gray. + + The great eventful Present hides the Past; but + through the din + Of its loud life hints and echoes from the life + behind steal in; + And the lore of homeland fireside, and the legendary + rhyme, + Make the task of duty lighter which the true man + owes his time. + + So, with something of the feeling which the Covenanter + knew, + When with pious chisel wandering Scotland's + moorland graveyards through, + From the graves of old traditions I part the black- + berry-vines, + Wipe the moss from off the headstones, and retouch + the faded lines. + + Where the sea-waves back and forward, hoarse + with rolling pebbles, ran, + The garrison-house stood watching on the gray + rocks of Cape Ann; + On its windy site uplifting gabled roof and palisade, + And rough walls of unhewn timber with the moonlight + overlaid. + + On his slow round walked the sentry, south and + eastward looking forth + O'er a rude and broken coast-line, white with + breakers stretching north,-- + Wood and rock and gleaming sand-drift, jagged + capes, with bush and tree, + Leaning inland from the smiting of the wild and + gusty sea. + + Before the deep-mouthed chimney, dimly lit by + dying brands, + Twenty soldiers sat and waited, with their muskets + in their hands; + On the rough-hewn oaken table the venison haunch + was shared, + And the pewter tankard circled slowly round from + beard to beard. + + Long they sat and talked together,--talked of + wizards Satan-sold; + Of all ghostly sights and noises,--signs and wonders + manifold; + Of the spectre-ship of Salem, with the dead men + in her shrouds, + Sailing sheer above the water, in the loom of morning + clouds; + + Of the marvellous valley hidden in the depths of + Gloucester woods, + Full of plants that love the summer,--blooms of + warmer latitudes; + Where the Arctic birch is braided by the tropic's + flowery vines, + And the white magnolia-blossoms star the twilight + of the pines! + + But their voices sank yet lower, sank to husky + tones of fear, + As they spake of present tokens of the powers of + evil near; + Of a spectral host, defying stroke of steel and aim + of gun; + Never yet was ball to slay them in the mould of + mortals run. + + Thrice, with plumes and flowing scalp-locks, from + the midnight wood they came,-- + Thrice around the block-house marching, met, unharmed, + its volleyed flame; + Then, with mocking laugh and gesture, sunk in + earth or lost in air, + All the ghostly wonder vanished, and the moonlit + sands lay bare. + + Midnight came; from out the forest moved a + dusky mass that soon + Grew to warriors, plumed and painted, grimly + marching in the moon. + "Ghosts or witches," said the captain, "thus I foil + the Evil One!" + And he rammed a silver button, from his doublet, + down his gun. + + Once again the spectral horror moved the guarded + wall about; + Once again the levelled muskets through the palisades + flashed out, + With that deadly aim the squirrel on his tree-top + might not shun, + Nor the beach-bird seaward flying with his slant + wing to the sun. + + Like the idle rain of summer sped the harmless + shower of lead. + With a laugh of fierce derision, once again the + phantoms fled; + Once again, without a shadow on the sands the + moonlight lay, + And the white smoke curling through it drifted + slowly down the bay! + + "God preserve us!" said the captain; "never + mortal foes were there; + They have vanished with their leader, Prince and + Power of the air! + Lay aside your useless weapons; skill and prowess + naught avail; + They who do the Devil's service wear their master's + coat of mail!" + + So the night grew near to cock-crow, when again + a warning call + Roused the score of weary soldiers watching round + the dusky hall + And they looked to flint and priming, and they + longed for break of day; + But the captain closed his Bible: "Let us cease + from man, and pray!" + + To the men who went before us, all the unseen + powers seemed near, + And their steadfast strength of courage struck its + roots in holy fear. + Every hand forsook the musket, every head was + bowed and bare, + Every stout knee pressed the flag-stones, as the + captain led in prayer. + + Ceased thereat the mystic marching of the spectres + round the wall, + But a sound abhorred, unearthly, smote the ears + and hearts of all,-- + Howls of rage and shrieks of anguish! Never + after mortal man + Saw the ghostly leaguers marching round the + block-house of Cape Ann. + + So to us who walk in summer through the cool and + sea-blown town, + From the childhood of its people comes the solemn + legend down. + Not in vain the ancient fiction, in whose moral + lives the youth + And the fitness and the freshness of an undecaying + truth. + + Soon or late to all our dwellings come the spectres + of the mind, + Doubts and fears and dread forebodings, in the + darkness undefined; + Round us throng the grim projections of the heart + and of the brain, + And our pride of strength is weakness, and the + cunning hand is vain. + + In the dark we cry like children; and no answer + from on high + Breaks the crystal spheres of silence, and no white + wings downward fly; + But the heavenly help we pray for comes to faith, + and not to sight, + And our prayers themselves drive backward all the + spirits of the night! + + 1857. + + + + +THE GIFT OF TRITEMIUS. + + TRITEMIUS of Herbipolis, one day, + While kneeling at the altar's foot to pray, + Alone with God, as was his pious choice, + Heard from without a miserable voice, + A sound which seemed of all sad things to tell, + As of a lost soul crying out of hell. + + Thereat the Abbot paused; the chain whereby + His thoughts went upward broken by that cry; + And, looking from the casement, saw below + A wretched woman, with gray hair a-flow, + And withered hands held up to him, who cried + For alms as one who might not be denied. + + She cried, "For the dear love of Him who gave + His life for ours, my child from bondage save,-- + My beautiful, brave first-born, chained with slaves + In the Moor's galley, where the sun-smit waves + Lap the white walls of Tunis!"--"What I can + I give," Tritemius said, "my prayers."--"O man + Of God!" she cried, for grief had made her bold, + "Mock me not thus; I ask not prayers, but gold. + Words will not serve me, alms alone suffice; + Even while I speak perchance my first-born dies." + + "Woman!" Tritemius answered, "from our door + None go unfed, hence are we always poor; + A single soldo is our only store. + Thou hast our prayers;--what can we give thee + more?" + + "Give me," she said, "the silver candlesticks + On either side of the great crucifix. + God well may spare them on His errands sped, + Or He can give you golden ones instead." + + Then spake Tritemius, "Even as thy word, + Woman, so be it! Our most gracious Lord, + Who loveth mercy more than sacrifice, + Pardon me if a human soul I prize + Above the gifts upon his altar piled! + Take what thou askest, and redeem thy child." + + But his hand trembled as the holy alms + He placed within the beggar's eager palms; + And as she vanished down the linden shade, + He bowed his head and for forgiveness prayed. + So the day passed, and when the twilight came + He woke to find the chapel all aflame, + And, dumb with grateful wonder, to behold + Upon the altar candlesticks of gold! + + 1857. + + + + +SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE. + +In the valuable and carefully prepared History of Marblehead, published +in 1879 by Samuel Roads, Jr., it is stated that the crew of Captain +Ireson, rather than himself, were responsible for the abandonment of the +disabled vessel. To screen themselves they charged their captain with +the crime. In view of this the writer of the ballad addressed the +following letter to the historian:-- + +OAK KNOLL, DANVERS, 5 mo. 18, 1880. +MY DEAR FRIEND: I heartily thank thee for a copy of thy History of +Marblehead. I have read it with great interest and think good use has +been made of the abundant material. No town in Essex County has a record +more honorable than Marblehead; no one has done more to develop the +industrial interests of our New England seaboard, and certainly none +have given such evidence of self-sacrificing patriotism. I am glad the +story of it has been at last told, and told so well. I have now no doubt +that thy version of Skipper Ireson's ride is the correct one. My verse +was founded solely on a fragment of rhyme which I heard from one of my +early schoolmates, a native of Marblehead. I supposed the story to which +it referred dated back at least a century. I knew nothing of the +participators, and the narrative of the ballad was pure fancy. I am glad +for the sake of truth and justice that the real facts are given in thy +book. I certainly would not knowingly do injustice to any one, dead or +living. + +I am very truly thy friend, +JOHN G. WHITTIER. + + + OF all the rides since, the birth of time, + Told in story or sung in rhyme,-- + On Apuleius's Golden Ass, + Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass; + Witch astride of a human back, + Islam's prophet on Al-Borak,-- + The strangest ride that ever was sped + Was Ireson's, out from Marblehead! + Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, + Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart + By the women of Marblehead! + Body of turkey, head of owl, + Wings a-droop like a rained-on fowl, + Feathered and ruffled in every part, + Skipper Ireson stood in the cart. + Scores of women, old and young, + Strong of muscle, and glib of tongue, + Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane, + Shouting and singing the shrill refrain + "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, + Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt + By the women o' Morble'ead!" + + Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips, + Girls in bloom of cheek and lips, + Wild-eyed, free-limbed, such as chase + Bacchus round some antique vase, + Brief of skirt, with ankles bare, + Loose of kerchief and loose of hair, + With conch-shells blowing and fish-horns' twang, + Over and over the Manads sang + "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, + Torr'd an' futherr'd an dorr'd in a corrt + By the women o' Morble'ead!" + + Small pity for him!--He sailed away + From a leaking ship, in Chaleur Bay,-- + Sailed away from a sinking wreck, + With his own town's-people on her deck! + "Lay by! lay by!" they called to him. + Back he answered, "Sink or swim! + Brag of your catch of fish again!" + And off he sailed through the fog and rain! + Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, + Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart + By the women of Marblehead! + + Fathoms deep in dark Chaleur + That wreck shall lie forevermore. + Mother and sister, wife and maid, + Looked from the rocks of Marblehead + Over the moaning and rainy sea,-- + Looked for the coming that might not be! + What did the winds and the sea-birds say + Of the cruel captain who sailed away?-- + Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, + Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart + By the women of Marblehead! + + Through the street, on either side, + Up flew windows, doors swung wide; + Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives gray, + Treble lent the fish-horn's bray. + Sea-worn grandsires, cripple-bound, + Hulks of old sailors run aground, + Shook head, and fist, and hat, and cane, + And cracked with curses the hoarse refrain + "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, + Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt + By the women o''Morble'ead!" + + Sweetly along the Salem road + Bloom of orchard and lilac showed. + Little the wicked skipper knew + Of the fields so green and the sky so blue. + Riding there in his sorry trim, + Like to Indian idol glum and grim, + Scarcely he seemed the sound to hear + Of voices shouting, far and near + "Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, + Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt + By the women o' Morble'ead!" + + "Hear me, neighbors!" at last he cried,-- + "What to me is this noisy ride? + What is the shame that clothes the skin + To the nameless horror that lives within? + Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck, + And hear a cry from a reeling deck! + Hate me and curse me,--I only dread + The hand of God and the face of the dead!" + Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, + Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart + By the women of Marblehead! + + Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea + Said, "God has touched him! why should we?" + Said an old wife mourning her only son, + "Cut the rogue's tether and let him run!" + So with soft relentings and rude excuse, + Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose, + And gave him a cloak to hide him in, + And left him alone with his shame and sin. + Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, + Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart + By the women of Marblehead! + + 1857. + + + + +THE SYCAMORES. + +Hugh Tallant was the first Irish resident of Haverhill, Mass. He planted +the button-wood trees on the bank of the river below the village in the +early part of the seventeenth century. Unfortunately this noble avenue +is now nearly destroyed. + + IN the outskirts of the village, + On the river's winding shores, + Stand the Occidental plane-trees, + Stand the ancient sycamores. + + One long century hath been numbered, + And another half-way told, + Since the rustic Irish gleeman + Broke for them the virgin mould. + + Deftly set to Celtic music, + At his violin's sound they grew, + Through the moonlit eves of summer, + Making Amphion's fable true. + + Rise again, then poor Hugh Tallant + Pass in jerkin green along, + With thy eyes brimful of laughter, + And thy mouth as full of song. + + Pioneer of Erin's outcasts, + With his fiddle and his pack; + Little dreamed the village Saxons + Of the myriads at his back. + + How he wrought with spade and fiddle, + Delved by day and sang by night, + With a hand that never wearied, + And a heart forever light,-- + + Still the gay tradition mingles + With a record grave and drear, + Like the rollic air of Cluny, + With the solemn march of Mear. + + When the box-tree, white with blossoms, + Made the sweet May woodlands glad, + And the Aronia by the river + Lighted up the swarming shad, + + And the bulging nets swept shoreward, + With their silver-sided haul, + Midst the shouts of dripping fishers, + He was merriest of them all. + + When, among the jovial huskers, + Love stole in at Labor's side, + With the lusty airs of England, + Soft his Celtic measures vied. + + Songs of love and wailing lyke--wake, + And the merry fair's carouse; + Of the wild Red Fox of Erin + And the Woman of Three Cows, + + By the blazing hearths of winter, + Pleasant seemed his simple tales, + Midst the grimmer Yorkshire legends + And the mountain myths of Wales. + + How the souls in Purgatory + Scrambled up from fate forlorn, + On St. Eleven's sackcloth ladder, + Slyly hitched to Satan's horn. + + Of the fiddler who at Tara + Played all night to ghosts of kings; + Of the brown dwarfs, and the fairies + Dancing in their moorland rings. + + Jolliest of our birds of singing, + Best he loved the Bob-o-link. + "Hush!" he 'd say, "the tipsy fairies + Hear the little folks in drink!" + + Merry-faced, with spade and fiddle, + Singing through the ancient town, + Only this, of poor Hugh Tallant, + Hath Tradition handed down. + + Not a stone his grave discloses; + But if yet his spirit walks, + 'T is beneath the trees he planted, + And when Bob-o-Lincoln talks; + + Green memorials of the gleeman I + Linking still the river-shores, + With their shadows cast by sunset, + Stand Hugh Tallant's sycamores! + + When the Father of his Country + Through the north-land riding came, + And the roofs were starred with banners, + And the steeples rang acclaim,-- + + When each war-scarred Continental, + Leaving smithy, mill, and farm, + Waved his rusted sword in welcome, + And shot off his old king's arm,-- + + Slowly passed that August Presence + Down the thronged and shouting street; + Village girls as white as angels, + Scattering flowers around his feet. + + Midway, where the plane-tree's shadow + Deepest fell, his rein he drew + On his stately head, uncovered, + Cool and soft the west-wind blew. + + And he stood up in his stirrups, + Looking up and looking down + On the hills of Gold and Silver + Rimming round the little town,-- + + On the river, full of sunshine, + To the lap of greenest vales + Winding down from wooded headlands, + Willow-skirted, white with sails. + + And he said, the landscape sweeping + Slowly with his ungloved hand, + "I have seen no prospect fairer + In this goodly Eastern land." + + Then the bugles of his escort + Stirred to life the cavalcade + And that head, so bare and stately, + Vanished down the depths of shade. + + Ever since, in town and farm-house, + Life has had its ebb and flow; + Thrice hath passed the human harvest + To its garner green and low. + + But the trees the gleeman planted, + Through the changes, changeless stand; + As the marble calm of Tadmor + Mocks the desert's shifting sand. + + Still the level moon at rising + Silvers o'er each stately shaft; + Still beneath them, half in shadow, + Singing, glides the pleasure craft; + + Still beneath them, arm-enfolded, + Love and Youth together stray; + While, as heart to heart beats faster, + More and more their feet delay. + + Where the ancient cobbler, Keezar, + On the open hillside wrought, + Singing, as he drew his stitches, + Songs his German masters taught, + + Singing, with his gray hair floating + Round his rosy ample face,-- + Now a thousand Saxon craftsmen + Stitch and hammer in his place. + + All the pastoral lanes so grassy + Now are Traffic's dusty streets; + From the village, grown a city, + Fast the rural grace retreats. + + But, still green, and tall, and stately, + On the river's winding shores, + Stand the Occidental plane-trees, + Stand, Hugh Taliant's sycamores. + + 1857. + + + + +THE PIPES AT LUCKNOW. + +An incident of the Sepoy mutiny. + + PIPES of the misty moorlands, + Voice of the glens and hills; + The droning of the torrents, + The treble of the rills! + Not the braes of broom and heather, + Nor the mountains dark with rain, + Nor maiden bower, nor border tower, + Have heard your sweetest strain! + + Dear to the Lowland reaper, + And plaided mountaineer,-- + To the cottage and the castle + The Scottish pipes are dear;-- + Sweet sounds the ancient pibroch + O'er mountain, loch, and glade; + But the sweetest of all music + The pipes at Lucknow played. + + Day by day the Indian tiger + Louder yelled, and nearer crept; + Round and round the jungle-serpent + Near and nearer circles swept. + "Pray for rescue, wives and mothers,-- + Pray to-day!" the soldier said; + "To-morrow, death's between us + And the wrong and shame we dread." + + Oh, they listened, looked, and waited, + Till their hope became despair; + And the sobs of low bewailing + Filled the pauses of their prayer. + Then up spake a Scottish maiden, + With her ear unto the ground + "Dinna ye hear it?--dinna ye hear it? + The pipes o' Havelock sound!" + + Hushed the wounded man his groaning; + Hushed the wife her little ones; + Alone they heard the drum-roll + And the roar of Sepoy guns. + But to sounds of home and childhood + The Highland ear was true;-- + As her mother's cradle-crooning + The mountain pipes she knew. + + Like the march of soundless music + Through the vision of the seer, + More of feeling than of hearing, + Of the heart than of the ear, + She knew the droning pibroch, + She knew the Campbell's call + "Hark! hear ye no' MacGregor's, + The grandest o' them all!" + + Oh, they listened, dumb and breathless, + And they caught the sound at last; + Faint and far beyond the Goomtee + Rose and fell the piper's blast + Then a burst of wild thanksgiving + Mingled woman's voice and man's; + "God be praised!--the march of Havelock! + The piping of the clans!" + + Louder, nearer, fierce as vengeance, + Sharp and shrill as swords at strife, + Came the wild MacGregor's clan-call, + Stinging all the air to life. + But when the far-off dust-cloud + To plaided legions grew, + Full tenderly and blithesomely + The pipes of rescue blew! + + Round the silver domes of Lucknow, + Moslem mosque and Pagan shrine, + Breathed the air to Britons dearest, + The air of Auld Lang Syne. + O'er the cruel roll of war-drums + Rose that sweet and homelike strain; + And the tartan clove the turban, + As the Goomtee cleaves the plain. + + Dear to the corn-land reaper + And plaided mountaineer,-- + To the cottage and the castle + The piper's song is dear. + Sweet sounds the Gaelic pibroch + O'er mountain, glen, and glade; + But the sweetest of all music + The Pipes at Lucknow played! + + 1858. + + + + +TELLING THE BEES. + +A remarkable custom, brought from the Old Country, formerly prevailed +in the rural districts of New England. On the death of a member of the +family, the bees were at once informed of the event, and their hives +dressed in mourning. This ceremonial was supposed to be necessary to +prevent the swarms from leaving their hives and seeking a new home. + + HERE is the place; right over the hill + Runs the path I took; + You can see the gap in the old wall still, + And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook. + + There is the house, with the gate red-barred, + And the poplars tall; + And the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard, + And the white horns tossing above the wall. + + There are the beehives ranged in the sun; + And down by the brink + Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o'errun, + Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink. + + A year has gone, as the tortoise goes, + Heavy and slow; + And the same rose blooms, and the same sun glows, + And the same brook sings of a year ago. + + There's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze; + And the June sun warm + Tangles his wings of fire in the trees, + Setting, as then, over Fernside farm. + + I mind me how with a lover's care + From my Sunday coat + I brushed off the burrs, and smoothed my hair, + And cooled at the brookside my brow and + throat. + + Since we parted, a month had passed,-- + To love, a year; + Down through the beeches I looked at last + On the little red gate and the well-sweep near. + + I can see it all now,--the slantwise rain + Of light through the leaves, + The sundown's blaze on her window-pane, + The bloom of her roses under the eaves. + + Just the same as a month before,-- + The house and the trees, + The barn's brown gable, the vine by the door,-- + Nothing changed but the hives of bees. + + Before them, under the garden wall, + Forward and back, + Went drearily singing the chore-girl small, + Draping each hive with a shred of black. + + Trembling, I listened: the summer sun + Had the chill of snow; + For I knew she was telling the bees of one + Gone on the journey we all must go. + + Then I said to myself, "My Mary weeps + For the dead to-day; + Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps + The fret and the pain of his age away." + + But her dog whined low; on the doorway sill, + With his cane to his chin, + The old man sat; and the chore-girl still + Sung to the bees stealing out and in. + + And the song she was singing ever since + In my ear sounds on:-- + "Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence! + Mistress Mary is dead and gone!" + + 1858. + + + + +THE SWAN SONG OF PARSON AVERY. + +In Young's Chronicles of Massachusetts Bay front 1623 to 1636 may be +found Anthony Thacher's Narrative of his Shipwreck. Thacher was Avery's +companion and survived to tell the tale. Mather's Magnalia, III. 2, +gives further Particulars of Parson Avery's End, and suggests the title +of the poem. + + WHEN the reaper's task was ended, and the + summer wearing late, + Parson Avery sailed from Newbury, with his wife + and children eight, + Dropping down the river-harbor in the shallop + "Watch and Wait." + + Pleasantly lay the clearings in the mellow summer- + morn, + With the newly planted orchards dropping their + fruits first-born, + And the home-roofs like brown islands amid a sea + of corn. + + Broad meadows reached out 'seaward the tided + creeks between, + And hills rolled wave-like inland, with oaks and + walnuts green;-- + A fairer home, a--goodlier land, his eyes had never + seen. + + Yet away sailed Parson Avery, away where duty led, + And the voice of God seemed calling, to break the + living bread + To the souls of fishers starving on the rocks of + Marblehead. + + All day they sailed: at nightfall the pleasant land- + breeze died, + The blackening sky, at midnight, its starry lights + denied, + And far and low the thunder of tempest prophesied. + + Blotted out were all the coast-lines, gone were rock, + and wood, and sand; + Grimly anxious stood the skipper with the rudder + in his hand, + And questioned of the darkness what was sea and + what was land. + + And the preacher heard his dear ones, nestled + round him, weeping sore, + "Never heed, my little children! Christ is walking + on before; + To the pleasant land of heaven, where the sea shall + be no more." + + All at once the great cloud parted, like a curtain + drawn aside, + To let down the torch of lightning on the terror + far and wide; + And the thunder and the whirlwind together smote + the tide. + + There was wailing in the shallop, woman's wail + and man's despair, + A crash of breaking timbers on the rocks so sharp + and bare, + And, through it all, the murmur of Father Avery's + prayer. + + From his struggle in the darkness with the wild + waves and the blast, + On a rock, where every billow broke above him as + it passed, + Alone, of all his household, the man of God was + cast. + + There a comrade heard him praying, in the pause + of wave and wind + "All my own have gone before me, and I linger + just behind; + Not for life I ask, but only for the rest Thy + ransomed find! + + "In this night of death I challenge the promise of + Thy word!-- + Let me see the great salvation of which mine ears + have heard!-- + Let me pass from hence forgiven, through the + grace of Christ, our Lord! + + "In the baptism of these waters wash white my + every sin, + And let me follow up to Thee my household and + my kin! + Open the sea-gate of Thy heaven, and let me enter + in!" + + When the Christian sings his death-song, all the + listening heavens draw near, + And the angels, leaning over the walls of crystal, + hear + How the notes so faint and broken swell to music + in God's ear. + + The ear of God was open to His servant's last + request; + As the strong wave swept him downward the sweet + hymn upward pressed, + And the soul of Father Avery went, singing, to its + rest. + + There was wailing on the mainland, from the rocks + of Marblehead; + In the stricken church of Newbury the notes of + prayer were read; + And long, by board and hearthstone, the living + mourned the dead. + + And still the fishers outbound, or scudding from + the squall, + With grave and reverent faces, the ancient tale + recall, + When they see the white waves breaking on the + Rock of Avery's Fall! + + 1808. + + + + +THE DOUBLE-HEADED SNAKE OF NEWBURY. + +"Concerning ye Amphisbaena, as soon as I received your commands, I made +diligent inquiry: . . . he assures me yt it had really two heads, one +at each end; two mouths, two stings or tongues."--REV. CHRISTOPHER +TOPPAN to COTTON MATHER. + + FAR away in the twilight time + Of every people, in every clime, + Dragons and griffins and monsters dire, + Born of water, and air, and fire, + Or nursed, like the Python, in the mud + And ooze of the old Deucalion flood, + Crawl and wriggle and foam with rage, + Through dusk tradition and ballad age. + So from the childhood of Newbury town + And its time of fable the tale comes down + Of a terror which haunted bush and brake, + The Amphisbaena, the Double Snake! + + Thou who makest the tale thy mirth, + Consider that strip of Christian earth + On the desolate shore of a sailless sea, + Full of terror and mystery, + Half redeemed from the evil hold + Of the wood so dreary, and dark, and old, + Which drank with its lips of leaves the dew + When Time was young, and the world was new, + And wove its shadows with sun and moon, + Ere the stones of Cheops were squared and hewn. + Think of the sea's dread monotone, + Of the mournful wail from the pine-wood blown, + Of the strange, vast splendors that lit the North, + Of the troubled throes of the quaking earth, + And the dismal tales the Indian told, + Till the settler's heart at his hearth grew cold, + And he shrank from the tawny wizard boasts, + And the hovering shadows seemed full of ghosts, + And above, below, and on every side, + The fear of his creed seemed verified;-- + And think, if his lot were now thine own, + To grope with terrors nor named nor known, + How laxer muscle and weaker nerve + And a feebler faith thy need might serve; + And own to thyself the wonder more + That the snake had two heads, and not a score! + + Whether he lurked in the Oldtown fen + Or the gray earth-flax of the Devil's Den, + Or swam in the wooded Artichoke, + Or coiled by the Northman's Written Rock, + Nothing on record is left to show; + Only the fact that he lived, we know, + And left the cast of a double head + In the scaly mask which he yearly shed. + For he carried a head where his tail should be, + And the two, of course, could never agree, + But wriggled about with main and might, + Now to the left and now to the right; + Pulling and twisting this way and that, + Neither knew what the other was at. + + A snake with two beads, lurking so near! + Judge of the wonder, guess at the fear! + Think what ancient gossips might say, + Shaking their heads in their dreary way, + Between the meetings on Sabbath-day! + How urchins, searching at day's decline + The Common Pasture for sheep or kine, + The terrible double-ganger heard + In leafy rustle or whir of bird! + Think what a zest it gave to the sport, + In berry-time, of the younger sort, + As over pastures blackberry-twined, + Reuben and Dorothy lagged behind, + And closer and closer, for fear of harm, + The maiden clung to her lover's arm; + And how the spark, who was forced to stay, + By his sweetheart's fears, till the break of day, + Thanked the snake for the fond delay. + + Far and wide the tale was told, + Like a snowball growing while it rolled. + The nurse hushed with it the baby's cry; + And it served, in the worthy minister's eye, + To paint the primitive serpent by. + Cotton Mather came galloping down + All the way to Newbury town, + With his eyes agog and his ears set wide, + And his marvellous inkhorn at his side; + Stirring the while in the shallow pool + Of his brains for the lore he learned at school, + To garnish the story, with here a streak + Of Latin, and there another of Greek + And the tales he heard and the notes he took, + Behold! are they not in his Wonder-Book? + + Stories, like dragons, are hard to kill. + If the snake does not, the tale runs still + In Byfield Meadows, on Pipestave Hill. + And still, whenever husband and wife + Publish the shame of their daily strife, + And, with mad cross-purpose, tug and strain + At either end of the marriage-chain, + The gossips say, with a knowing shake + Of their gray heads, "Look at the Double Snake + One in body and two in will, + The Amphisbaena is living still!" + + 1859. + + + + +MABEL MARTIN. + +A HARVEST IDYL. + +Susanna Martin, an aged woman of Amesbury, Mass., was tried and executed +for the alleged crime of witchcraft. Her home was in what is now known +as Pleasant Valley on the Merrimac, a little above the old Ferry way, +where, tradition says, an attempt was made to assassinate Sir Edmund +Andros on his way to Falmouth (afterward Portland) and Pemaquid, which +was frustrated by a warning timely given. Goody Martin was the only +woman hanged on the north side of the Merrimac during the dreadful +delusion. The aged wife of Judge Bradbury who lived on the other side of +the Powow River was imprisoned and would have been put to death but for +the collapse of the hideous persecution. + +The substance of the poem which follows was published under the name of +The Witch's Daughter, in The National Era in 1857. In 1875 my publishers +desired to issue it with illustrations, and I then enlarged it and +otherwise altered it to its present form. The principal addition was in +the verses which constitute Part I. + + + + +PROEM. + + I CALL the old time back: I bring my lay + in tender memory of the summer day + When, where our native river lapsed away, + + We dreamed it over, while the thrushes made + Songs of their own, and the great pine-trees laid + On warm noonlights the masses of their shade. + + And she was with us, living o'er again + Her life in ours, despite of years and pain,-- + The Autumn's brightness after latter rain. + + Beautiful in her holy peace as one + Who stands, at evening, when the work is done, + Glorified in the setting of the sun! + + Her memory makes our common landscape seem + Fairer than any of which painters dream; + Lights the brown hills and sings in every stream; + + For she whose speech was always truth's pure gold + Heard, not unpleased, its simple legends told, + And loved with us the beautiful and old. + + + + +I. THE RIVER VALLEY. + + Across the level tableland, + A grassy, rarely trodden way, + With thinnest skirt of birchen spray + + And stunted growth of cedar, leads + To where you see the dull plain fall + Sheer off, steep-slanted, ploughed by all + + The seasons' rainfalls. On its brink + The over-leaning harebells swing, + With roots half bare the pine-trees cling; + + And, through the shadow looking west, + You see the wavering river flow + Along a vale, that far below + + Holds to the sun, the sheltering hills + And glimmering water-line between, + Broad fields of corn and meadows green, + + And fruit-bent orchards grouped around + The low brown roofs and painted eaves, + And chimney-tops half hid in leaves. + + No warmer valley hides behind + Yon wind-scourged sand-dunes, cold and bleak; + No fairer river comes to seek + + The wave-sung welcome of the sea, + Or mark the northmost border line + Of sun-loved growths of nut and vine. + + Here, ground-fast in their native fields, + Untempted by the city's gain, + The quiet farmer folk remain + + Who bear the pleasant name of Friends, + And keep their fathers' gentle ways + And simple speech of Bible days; + + In whose neat homesteads woman holds + With modest ease her equal place, + And wears upon her tranquil face + + The look of one who, merging not + Her self-hood in another's will, + Is love's and duty's handmaid still. + + Pass with me down the path that winds + Through birches to the open land, + Where, close upon the river strand + + You mark a cellar, vine o'errun, + Above whose wall of loosened stones + The sumach lifts its reddening cones, + + And the black nightshade's berries shine, + And broad, unsightly burdocks fold + The household ruin, century-old. + + Here, in the dim colonial time + Of sterner lives and gloomier faith, + A woman lived, tradition saith, + + Who wrought her neighbors foul annoy, + And witched and plagued the country-side, + Till at the hangman's hand she died. + + Sit with me while the westering day + Falls slantwise down the quiet vale, + And, haply ere yon loitering sail, + + That rounds the upper headland, falls + Below Deer Island's pines, or sees + Behind it Hawkswood's belt of trees + + Rise black against the sinking sun, + My idyl of its days of old, + The valley's legend, shall be told. + + + + +II. THE HUSKING. + + It was the pleasant harvest-time, + When cellar-bins are closely stowed, + And garrets bend beneath their load, + + And the old swallow-haunted barns,-- + Brown-gabled, long, and full of seams + Through which the rooted sunlight streams, + + And winds blow freshly in, to shake + The red plumes of the roosted cocks, + And the loose hay-mow's scented locks, + + Are filled with summer's ripened stores, + Its odorous grass and barley sheaves, + From their low scaffolds to their eaves. + + On Esek Harden's oaken floor, + With many an autumn threshing worn, + Lay the heaped ears of unhusked corn. + + And thither came young men and maids, + Beneath a moon that, large and low, + Lit that sweet eve of long ago. + + They took their places; some by chance, + And others by a merry voice + Or sweet smile guided to their choice. + + How pleasantly the rising moon, + Between the shadow of the mows, + Looked on them through the great elm-boughs! + + On sturdy boyhood, sun-embrowned, + On girlhood with its solid curves + Of healthful strength and painless nerves! + + And jests went round, and laughs that made + The house-dog answer with his howl, + And kept astir the barn-yard fowl; + + And quaint old songs their fathers sung + In Derby dales and Yorkshire moors, + Ere Norman William trod their shores; + + And tales, whose merry license shook + The fat sides of the Saxon thane, + Forgetful of the hovering Dane,-- + + Rude plays to Celt and Cimbri known, + The charms and riddles that beguiled + On Oxus' banks the young world's child,-- + + That primal picture-speech wherein + Have youth and maid the story told, + So new in each, so dateless old, + + Recalling pastoral Ruth in her + Who waited, blushing and demure, + The red-ear's kiss of forfeiture. + + But still the sweetest voice was mute + That river-valley ever heard + From lips of maid or throat of bird; + + For Mabel Martin sat apart, + And let the hay-mow's shadow fall + Upon the loveliest face of all. + + She sat apart, as one forbid, + Who knew that none would condescend + To own the Witch-wife's child a friend. + + The seasons scarce had gone their round, + Since curious thousands thronged to see + Her mother at the gallows-tree; + + And mocked the prison-palsied limbs + That faltered on the fatal stairs, + And wan lip trembling with its prayers! + + Few questioned of the sorrowing child, + Or, when they saw the mother die; + Dreamed of the daughter's agony. + + They went up to their homes that day, + As men and Christians justified + God willed it, and the wretch had died! + + Dear God and Father of us all, + Forgive our faith in cruel lies,-- + Forgive the blindness that denies! + + Forgive thy creature when he takes, + For the all-perfect love Thou art, + Some grim creation of his heart. + + Cast down our idols, overturn + Our bloody altars; let us see + Thyself in Thy humanity! + + Young Mabel from her mother's grave + Crept to her desolate hearth-stone, + And wrestled with her fate alone; + + With love, and anger, and despair, + The phantoms of disordered sense, + The awful doubts of Providence! + + Oh, dreary broke the winter days, + And dreary fell the winter nights + When, one by one, the neighboring lights + + Went out, and human sounds grew still, + And all the phantom-peopled dark + Closed round her hearth-fire's dying spark. + + And summer days were sad and long, + And sad the uncompanioned eyes, + And sadder sunset-tinted leaves, + + And Indian Summer's airs of balm; + She scarcely felt the soft caress, + The beauty died of loneliness! + + The school-boys jeered her as they passed, + And, when she sought the house of prayer, + Her mother's curse pursued her there. + + And still o'er many a neighboring door + She saw the horseshoe's curved charm, + To guard against her mother's harm! + + That mother, poor and sick and lame, + Who daily, by the old arm-chair, + Folded her withered hands in prayer;-- + + Who turned, in Salem's dreary jail, + Her worn old Bible o'er and o'er, + When her dim eyes could read no more! + + Sore tried and pained, the poor girl kept + Her faith, and trusted that her way, + So dark, would somewhere meet the day. + + And still her weary wheel went round + Day after day, with no relief + Small leisure have the poor for grief. + + + + +III. THE CHAMPION. + + So in the shadow Mabel sits; + Untouched by mirth she sees and hears, + Her smile is sadder than her tears. + + But cruel eyes have found her out, + And cruel lips repeat her name, + And taunt her with her mother's shame. + + She answered not with railing words, + But drew her apron o'er her face, + And, sobbing, glided from the place. + + And only pausing at the door, + Her sad eyes met the troubled gaze + Of one who, in her better days, + + Had been her warm and steady friend, + Ere yet her mother's doom had made + Even Esek Harden half afraid. + + He felt that mute appeal of tears, + And, starting, with an angry frown, + Hushed all the wicked murmurs down. + + "Good neighbors mine," he sternly said, + "This passes harmless mirth or jest; + I brook no insult to my guest. + + "She is indeed her mother's child; + But God's sweet pity ministers + Unto no whiter soul than hers. + + "Let Goody Martin rest in peace; + I never knew her harm a fly, + And witch or not, God knows--not I. + + "I know who swore her life away; + And as God lives, I'd not condemn + An Indian dog on word of them." + + The broadest lands in all the town, + The skill to guide, the power to awe, + Were Harden's; and his word was law. + + None dared withstand him to his face, + But one sly maiden spake aside + "The little witch is evil-eyed! + + "Her mother only killed a cow, + Or witched a churn or dairy-pan; + But she, forsooth, must charm a man!" + + + + +IV. IN THE SHADOW. + + Poor Mabel, homeward turning, passed + The nameless terrors of the wood, + And saw, as if a ghost pursued, + + Her shadow gliding in the moon; + The soft breath of the west-wind gave + A chill as from her mother's grave. + + How dreary seemed the silent house! + Wide in the moonbeams' ghastly glare + Its windows had a dead man's stare! + + And, like a gaunt and spectral hand, + The tremulous shadow of a birch + Reached out and touched the door's low porch, + + As if to lift its latch; hard by, + A sudden warning call she beard, + The night-cry of a boding bird. + + She leaned against the door; her face, + So fair, so young, so full of pain, + White in the moonlight's silver rain. + + The river, on its pebbled rim, + Made music such as childhood knew; + The door-yard tree was whispered through + + By voices such as childhood's ear + Had heard in moonlights long ago; + And through the willow-boughs below. + + She saw the rippled waters shine; + Beyond, in waves of shade and light, + The hills rolled off into the night. + + She saw and heard, but over all + A sense of some transforming spell, + The shadow of her sick heart fell. + + And still across the wooded space + The harvest lights of Harden shone, + And song and jest and laugh went on. + + And he, so gentle, true, and strong, + Of men the bravest and the best, + Had he, too, scorned her with the rest? + + She strove to drown her sense of wrong, + And, in her old and simple way, + To teach her bitter heart to pray. + + Poor child! the prayer, begun in faith, + Grew to a low, despairing cry + Of utter misery: "Let me die! + + "Oh! take me from the scornful eyes, + And hide me where the cruel speech + And mocking finger may not reach! + + "I dare not breathe my mother's name + A daughter's right I dare not crave + To weep above her unblest grave! + + "Let me not live until my heart, + With few to pity, and with none + To love me, hardens into stone. + + "O God! have mercy on Thy child, + Whose faith in Thee grows weak and small, + And take me ere I lose it all!" + + A shadow on the moonlight fell, + And murmuring wind and wave became + A voice whose burden was her name. + + + + +V. THE BETROTHAL. + + Had then God heard her? Had He sent + His angel down? In flesh and blood, + Before her Esek Harden stood! + + He laid his hand upon her arm + "Dear Mabel, this no more shall be; + Who scoffs at you must scoff at me. + + "You know rough Esek Harden well; + And if he seems no suitor gay, + And if his hair is touched with gray, + + "The maiden grown shall never find + His heart less warm than when she smiled, + Upon his knees, a little child!" + + Her tears of grief were tears of joy, + As, folded in his strong embrace, + She looked in Esek Harden's face. + + "O truest friend of all'" she said, + "God bless you for your kindly thought, + And make me worthy of my lot!" + + He led her forth, and, blent in one, + Beside their happy pathway ran + The shadows of the maid and man. + + He led her through his dewy fields, + To where the swinging lanterns glowed, + And through the doors the huskers showed. + + "Good friends and neighbors!" Esek said, + "I'm weary of this lonely life; + In Mabel see my chosen wife! + + "She greets you kindly, one and all; + The past is past, and all offence + Falls harmless from her innocence. + + "Henceforth she stands no more alone; + You know what Esek Harden is;-- + He brooks no wrong to him or his. + + "Now let the merriest tales be told, + And let the sweetest songs be sung + That ever made the old heart young! + + "For now the lost has found a home; + And a lone hearth shall brighter burn, + As all the household joys return!" + + Oh, pleasantly the harvest-moon, + Between the shadow of the mows, + Looked on them through the great elm--boughs! + + On Mabel's curls of golden hair, + On Esek's shaggy strength it fell; + And the wind whispered, "It is well!" + + + + +THE PROPHECY OF SAMUEL SEWALL. + +The prose version of this prophecy is to be found in Sewall's The New +Heaven upon the New Earth, 1697, quoted in Joshua Coffin's History of +Newbury. Judge Sewall's father, Henry Sewall, was one of the pioneers +of Newbury. + + UP and down the village streets + Strange are the forms my fancy meets, + For the thoughts and things of to-day are hid, + And through the veil of a closed lid + The ancient worthies I see again + I hear the tap of the elder's cane, + And his awful periwig I see, + And the silver buckles of shoe and knee. + Stately and slow, with thoughtful air, + His black cap hiding his whitened hair, + Walks the Judge of the great Assize, + Samuel Sewall the good and wise. + His face with lines of firmness wrought, + He wears the look of a man unbought, + Who swears to his hurt and changes not; + Yet, touched and softened nevertheless + With the grace of Christian gentleness, + The face that a child would climb to kiss! + True and tender and brave and just, + That man might honor and woman trust. + + Touching and sad, a tale is told, + Like a penitent hymn of the Psalmist old, + Of the fast which the good man lifelong kept to + With a haunting sorrow that never slept, + As the circling year brought round the time + Of an error that left the sting of crime, + When he sat on the bench of the witchcraft courts, + With the laws of Moses and Hale's Reports, + And spake, in the name of both, the word + That gave the witch's neck to the cord, + And piled the oaken planks that pressed + The feeble life from the warlock's breast! + All the day long, from dawn to dawn, + His door was bolted, his curtain drawn; + No foot on his silent threshold trod, + No eye looked on him save that of God, + As he baffled the ghosts of the dead with charms + Of penitent tears, and prayers, and psalms, + And, with precious proofs from the sacred word + Of the boundless pity and love of the Lord, + His faith confirmed and his trust renewed + That the sin of his ignorance, sorely rued, + Might be washed away in the mingled flood + Of his human sorrow and Christ's dear blood! + + Green forever the memory be + Of the Judge of the old Theocracy, + Whom even his errors glorified, + Like a far-seen, sunlit mountain-side + By the cloudy shadows which o'er it glide I + Honor and praise to the Puritan + Who the halting step of his age outran, + And, seeing the infinite worth of man + In the priceless gift the Father gave, + In the infinite love that stooped to save, + Dared not brand his brother a slave + "Who doth such wrong," he was wont to say, + In his own quaint, picture-loving way, + "Flings up to Heaven a hand-grenade + Which God shall cast down upon his head!" + + Widely as heaven and hell, contrast + That brave old jurist of the past + And the cunning trickster and knave of courts + Who the holy features of Truth distorts, + Ruling as right the will of the strong, + Poverty, crime, and weakness wrong; + Wide-eared to power, to the wronged and weak + Deaf as Egypt's gods of leek; + Scoffing aside at party's nod + Order of nature and law of God; + For whose dabbled ermine respect were waste, + Reverence folly, and awe misplaced; + Justice of whom 't were vain to seek + As from Koordish robber or Syrian Sheik! + Oh, leave the wretch to his bribes and sins; + Let him rot in the web of lies he spins! + To the saintly soul of the early day, + To the Christian judge, let us turn and say + "Praise and thanks for an honest man!-- + Glory to God for the Puritan!" + + I see, far southward, this quiet day, + The hills of Newbury rolling away, + With the many tints of the season gay, + Dreamily blending in autumn mist + Crimson, and gold, and amethyst. + Long and low, with dwarf trees crowned, + Plum Island lies, like a whale aground, + A stone's toss over the narrow sound. + Inland, as far as the eye can go, + The hills curve round like a bended bow; + A silver arrow from out them sprung, + I see the shine of the Quasycung; + And, round and round, over valley and hill, + Old roads winding, as old roads will, + Here to a ferry, and there to a mill; + And glimpses of chimneys and gabled eaves, + Through green elm arches and maple leaves,-- + Old homesteads sacred to all that can + Gladden or sadden the heart of man, + Over whose thresholds of oak and stone + Life and Death have come and gone + There pictured tiles in the fireplace show, + Great beams sag from the ceiling low, + The dresser glitters with polished wares, + The long clock ticks on the foot-worn stairs, + And the low, broad chimney shows the crack + By the earthquake made a century back. + Up from their midst springs the village spire + With the crest of its cock in the sun afire; + Beyond are orchards and planting lands, + And great salt marshes and glimmering sands, + And, where north and south the coast-lines run, + The blink of the sea in breeze and sun! + + I see it all like a chart unrolled, + But my thoughts are full of the past and old, + I hear the tales of my boyhood told; + And the shadows and shapes of early days + Flit dimly by in the veiling haze, + With measured movement and rhythmic chime + Weaving like shuttles my web of rhyme. + I think of the old man wise and good + Who once on yon misty hillsides stood, + (A poet who never measured rhyme, + A seer unknown to his dull-eared time,) + And, propped on his staff of age, looked down, + With his boyhood's love, on his native town, + Where, written, as if on its hills and plains, + His burden of prophecy yet remains, + For the voices of wood, and wave, and wind + To read in the ear of the musing mind:-- + + "As long as Plum Island, to guard the coast + As God appointed, shall keep its post; + As long as a salmon shall haunt the deep + Of Merrimac River, or sturgeon leap; + As long as pickerel swift and slim, + Or red-backed perch, in Crane Pond swim; + As long as the annual sea-fowl know + Their time to come and their time to go; + As long as cattle shall roam at will + The green, grass meadows by Turkey Hill; + As long as sheep shall look from the side + Of Oldtown Hill on marishes wide, + And Parker River, and salt-sea tide; + As long as a wandering pigeon shall search + The fields below from his white-oak perch, + When the barley-harvest is ripe and shorn, + And the dry husks fall from the standing corn; + As long as Nature shall not grow old, + Nor drop her work from her doting hold, + And her care for the Indian corn forget, + And the yellow rows in pairs to set;-- + So long shall Christians here be born, + Grow up and ripen as God's sweet corn!-- + By the beak of bird, by the breath of frost, + Shall never a holy ear be lost, + But, husked by Death in the Planter's sight, + Be sown again in the fields of light!" + + The Island still is purple with plums, + Up the river the salmon comes, + The sturgeon leaps, and the wild-fowl feeds + On hillside berries and marish seeds,-- + All the beautiful signs remain, + From spring-time sowing to autumn rain + The good man's vision returns again! + And let us hope, as well we can, + That the Silent Angel who garners man + May find some grain as of old lie found + In the human cornfield ripe and sound, + And the Lord of the Harvest deign to own + The precious seed by the fathers sown! + + 1859. + + + + +THE RED RIPER VOYAGEUR. + + OUT and in the river is winding + The links of its long, red chain, + Through belts of dusky pine-land + And gusty leagues of plain. + + Only, at times, a smoke-wreath + With the drifting cloud-rack joins,-- + The smoke of the hunting-lodges + Of the wild Assiniboins. + + Drearily blows the north-wind + From the land of ice and snow; + The eyes that look are weary, + And heavy the hands that row. + + And with one foot on the water, + And one upon the shore, + The Angel of Shadow gives warning + That day shall be no more. + + Is it the clang of wild-geese? + Is it the Indian's yell, + That lends to the voice of the north-wind + The tones of a far-off bell? + + The voyageur smiles as he listens + To the sound that grows apace; + Well he knows the vesper ringing + Of the bells of St. Boniface. + + The bells of the Roman Mission, + That call from their turrets twain, + To the boatman on the river, + To the hunter on the plain! + + Even so in our mortal journey + The bitter north-winds blow, + And thus upon life's Red River + Our hearts, as oarsmen, row. + + And when the Angel of Shadow + Rests his feet on wave and shore, + And our eyes grow dim with watching + And our hearts faint at the oar, + + Happy is he who heareth + The signal of his release + In the bells of the Holy City, + The chimes of eternal peace! + + 1859 + + + + +THE PREACHER. + +George Whitefield, the celebrated preacher, died at Newburyport in 1770, +and was buried under the church which has since borne his name. + + ITS windows flashing to the sky, + Beneath a thousand roofs of brown, + Far down the vale, my friend and I + Beheld the old and quiet town; + The ghostly sails that out at sea + Flapped their white wings of mystery; + The beaches glimmering in the sun, + And the low wooded capes that run + Into the sea-mist north and south; + The sand-bluffs at the river's mouth; + The swinging chain-bridge, and, afar, + The foam-line of the harbor-bar. + + Over the woods and meadow-lands + A crimson-tinted shadow lay, + Of clouds through which the setting day + Flung a slant glory far away. + It glittered on the wet sea-sands, + It flamed upon the city's panes, + Smote the white sails of ships that wore + Outward or in, and glided o'er + The steeples with their veering vanes! + + Awhile my friend with rapid search + O'erran the landscape. "Yonder spire + Over gray roofs, a shaft of fire; + What is it, pray?"--"The Whitefield Church! + Walled about by its basement stones, + There rest the marvellous prophet's bones." + Then as our homeward way we walked, + Of the great preacher's life we talked; + And through the mystery of our theme + The outward glory seemed to stream, + And Nature's self interpreted + The doubtful record of the dead; + And every level beam that smote + The sails upon the dark afloat + A symbol of the light became, + Which touched the shadows of our blame, + With tongues of Pentecostal flame. + + Over the roofs of the pioneers + Gathers the moss of a hundred years; + On man and his works has passed the change + Which needs must be in a century's range. + The land lies open and warm in the sun, + Anvils clamor and mill-wheels run,-- + Flocks on the hillsides, herds on the plain, + The wilderness gladdened with fruit and grain! + But the living faith of the settlers old + A dead profession their children hold; + To the lust of office and greed of trade + A stepping-stone is the altar made. + + The church, to place and power the door, + Rebukes the sin of the world no more, + Nor sees its Lord in the homeless poor. + Everywhere is the grasping hand, + And eager adding of land to land; + And earth, which seemed to the fathers meant + But as a pilgrim's wayside tent,-- + A nightly shelter to fold away + When the Lord should call at the break of day,-- + Solid and steadfast seems to be, + And Time has forgotten Eternity! + + But fresh and green from the rotting roots + Of primal forests the young growth shoots; + From the death of the old the new proceeds, + And the life of truth from the rot of creeds + On the ladder of God, which upward leads, + The steps of progress are human needs. + For His judgments still are a mighty deep, + And the eyes of His providence never sleep + When the night is darkest He gives the morn; + When the famine is sorest, the wine and corn! + + In the church of the wilderness Edwards wrought, + Shaping his creed at the forge of thought; + And with Thor's own hammer welded and bent + The iron links of his argument, + Which strove to grasp in its mighty span + The purpose of God and the fate of man + Yet faithful still, in his daily round + To the weak, and the poor, and sin-sick found, + The schoolman's lore and the casuist's art + Drew warmth and life from his fervent heart. + + Had he not seen in the solitudes + Of his deep and dark Northampton woods + A vision of love about him fall? + Not the blinding splendor which fell on Saul, + But the tenderer glory that rests on them + Who walk in the New Jerusalem, + Where never the sun nor moon are known, + But the Lord and His love are the light alone + And watching the sweet, still countenance + Of the wife of his bosom rapt in trance, + Had he not treasured each broken word + Of the mystical wonder seen and heard; + And loved the beautiful dreamer more + That thus to the desert of earth she bore + Clusters of Eshcol from Canaan's shore? + + As the barley-winnower, holding with pain + Aloft in waiting his chaff and grain, + Joyfully welcomes the far-off breeze + Sounding the pine-tree's slender keys, + So he who had waited long to hear + The sound of the Spirit drawing near, + Like that which the son of Iddo heard + When the feet of angels the myrtles stirred, + Felt the answer of prayer, at last, + As over his church the afflatus passed, + Breaking its sleep as breezes break + To sun-bright ripples a stagnant lake. + + At first a tremor of silent fear, + The creep of the flesh at danger near, + A vague foreboding and discontent, + Over the hearts of the people went. + All nature warned in sounds and signs + The wind in the tops of the forest pines + In the name of the Highest called to prayer, + As the muezzin calls from the minaret stair. + Through ceiled chambers of secret sin + Sudden and strong the light shone in; + A guilty sense of his neighbor's needs + Startled the man of title-deeds; + The trembling hand of the worldling shook + The dust of years from the Holy Book; + And the psalms of David, forgotten long, + Took the place of the scoffer's song. + + The impulse spread like the outward course + Of waters moved by a central force; + The tide of spiritual life rolled down + From inland mountains to seaboard town. + + Prepared and ready the altar stands + Waiting the prophet's outstretched hands + And prayer availing, to downward call + The fiery answer in view of all. + Hearts are like wax in the furnace; who + Shall mould, and shape, and cast them anew? + Lo! by the Merrimac Whitefield stands + In the temple that never was made by hands,-- + Curtains of azure, and crystal wall, + And dome of the sunshine over all-- + A homeless pilgrim, with dubious name + Blown about on the winds of fame; + Now as an angel of blessing classed, + And now as a mad enthusiast. + Called in his youth to sound and gauge + The moral lapse of his race and age, + And, sharp as truth, the contrast draw + Of human frailty and perfect law; + Possessed by the one dread thought that lent + Its goad to his fiery temperament, + Up and down the world he went, + A John the Baptist crying, Repent! + + No perfect whole can our nature make; + Here or there the circle will break; + The orb of life as it takes the light + On one side leaves the other in night. + Never was saint so good and great + As to give no chance at St. Peter's gate + For the plea of the Devil's advocate. + So, incomplete by his being's law, + The marvellous preacher had his flaw; + With step unequal, and lame with faults, + His shade on the path of History halts. + + Wisely and well said the Eastern bard + Fear is easy, but love is hard,-- + Easy to glow with the Santon's rage, + And walk on the Meccan pilgrimage; + But he is greatest and best who can + Worship Allah by loving man. + Thus he,--to whom, in the painful stress + Of zeal on fire from its own excess, + Heaven seemed so vast and earth so small + That man was nothing, since God was all,-- + Forgot, as the best at times have done, + That the love of the Lord and of man are one. + Little to him whose feet unshod + The thorny path of the desert trod, + Careless of pain, so it led to God, + Seemed the hunger-pang and the poor man's wrong, + The weak ones trodden beneath the strong. + Should the worm be chooser?--the clay withstand + The shaping will of the potter's hand? + + In the Indian fable Arjoon hears + The scorn of a god rebuke his fears + "Spare thy pity!" Krishna saith; + "Not in thy sword is the power of death! + All is illusion,--loss but seems; + Pleasure and pain are only dreams; + Who deems he slayeth doth not kill; + Who counts as slain is living still. + Strike, nor fear thy blow is crime; + Nothing dies but the cheats of time; + Slain or slayer, small the odds + To each, immortal as Indra's gods!" + + So by Savannah's banks of shade, + The stones of his mission the preacher laid + On the heart of the negro crushed and rent, + And made of his blood the wall's cement; + Bade the slave-ship speed from coast to coast, + Fanned by the wings of the Holy Ghost; + And begged, for the love of Christ, the gold + Coined from the hearts in its groaning hold. + What could it matter, more or less + Of stripes, and hunger, and weariness? + Living or dying, bond or free, + What was time to eternity? + + Alas for the preacher's cherished schemes! + Mission and church are now but dreams; + Nor prayer nor fasting availed the plan + To honor God through the wrong of man. + Of all his labors no trace remains + Save the bondman lifting his hands in chains. + The woof he wove in the righteous warp + Of freedom-loving Oglethorpe, + Clothes with curses the goodly land, + Changes its greenness and bloom to sand; + And a century's lapse reveals once more + The slave-ship stealing to Georgia's shore. + Father of Light! how blind is he + Who sprinkles the altar he rears to Thee + With the blood and tears of humanity! + + He erred: shall we count His gifts as naught? + Was the work of God in him unwrought? + The servant may through his deafness err, + And blind may be God's messenger; + But the Errand is sure they go upon,-- + The word is spoken, the deed is done. + Was the Hebrew temple less fair and good + That Solomon bowed to gods of wood? + For his tempted heart and wandering feet, + Were the songs of David less pure and sweet? + So in light and shadow the preacher went, + God's erring and human instrument; + And the hearts of the people where he passed + Swayed as the reeds sway in the blast, + Under the spell of a voice which took + In its compass the flow of Siloa's brook, + And the mystical chime of the bells of gold + On the ephod's hem of the priest of old,-- + Now the roll of thunder, and now the awe + Of the trumpet heard in the Mount of Law. + + A solemn fear on the listening crowd + Fell like the shadow of a cloud. + The sailor reeling from out the ships + Whose masts stood thick in the river-slips + Felt the jest and the curse die on his lips. + Listened the fisherman rude and hard, + The calker rough from the builder's yard; + The man of the market left his load, + The teamster leaned on his bending goad, + The maiden, and youth beside her, felt + Their hearts in a closer union melt, + And saw the flowers of their love in bloom + Down the endless vistas of life to come. + Old age sat feebly brushing away + From his ears the scanty locks of gray; + And careless boyhood, living the free + Unconscious life of bird and tree, + Suddenly wakened to a sense + Of sin and its guilty consequence. + It was as if an angel's voice + Called the listeners up for their final choice; + As if a strong hand rent apart + The veils of sense from soul and heart, + Showing in light ineffable + The joys of heaven and woes of hell + All about in the misty air + The hills seemed kneeling in silent prayer; + The rustle of leaves, the moaning sedge, + The water's lap on its gravelled edge, + The wailing pines, and, far and faint, + The wood-dove's note of sad complaint,-- + To the solemn voice of the preacher lent + An undertone as of low lament; + And the note of the sea from its sand coast, + On the easterly wind, now heard, now lost, + Seemed the murmurous sound of the judgment host. + + Yet wise men doubted, and good men wept, + As that storm of passion above them swept, + And, comet-like, adding flame to flame, + The priests of the new Evangel came,-- + Davenport, flashing upon the crowd, + Charged like summer's electric cloud, + Now holding the listener still as death + With terrible warnings under breath, + Now shouting for joy, as if he viewed + The vision of Heaven's beatitude! + And Celtic Tennant, his long coat bound + Like a monk's with leathern girdle round, + Wild with the toss of unshorn hair, + And wringing of hands, and, eyes aglare, + Groaning under the world's despair! + Grave pastors, grieving their flocks to lose, + Prophesied to the empty pews + That gourds would wither, and mushrooms die, + And noisiest fountains run soonest dry, + Like the spring that gushed in Newbury Street, + Under the tramp of the earthquake's feet, + A silver shaft in the air and light, + For a single day, then lost in night, + Leaving only, its place to tell, + Sandy fissure and sulphurous smell. + With zeal wing-clipped and white-heat cool, + Moved by the spirit in grooves of rule, + No longer harried, and cropped, and fleeced, + Flogged by sheriff and cursed by priest, + But by wiser counsels left at ease + To settle quietly on his lees, + And, self-concentred, to count as done + The work which his fathers well begun, + In silent protest of letting alone, + The Quaker kept the way of his own,-- + A non-conductor among the wires, + With coat of asbestos proof to fires. + And quite unable to mend his pace + To catch the falling manna of grace, + He hugged the closer his little store + Of faith, and silently prayed for more. + And vague of creed and barren of rite, + But holding, as in his Master's sight, + Act and thought to the inner light, + The round of his simple duties walked, + And strove to live what the others talked. + + And who shall marvel if evil went + Step by step with the good intent, + And with love and meekness, side by side, + Lust of the flesh and spiritual pride?-- + That passionate longings and fancies vain + Set the heart on fire and crazed the brain? + That over the holy oracles + Folly sported with cap and bells? + That goodly women and learned men + Marvelling told with tongue and pen + How unweaned children chirped like birds + Texts of Scripture and solemn words, + Like the infant seers of the rocky glens + In the Puy de Dome of wild Cevennes + Or baby Lamas who pray and preach + From Tartir cradles in Buddha's speech? + + In the war which Truth or Freedom wages + With impious fraud and the wrong of ages, + Hate and malice and self-love mar + The notes of triumph with painful jar, + And the helping angels turn aside + Their sorrowing faces the shame to bide. + Never on custom's oiled grooves + The world to a higher level moves, + But grates and grinds with friction hard + On granite boulder and flinty shard. + The heart must bleed before it feels, + The pool be troubled before it heals; + Ever by losses the right must gain, + Every good have its birth of pain; + The active Virtues blush to find + The Vices wearing their badge behind, + And Graces and Charities feel the fire + Wherein the sins of the age expire; + The fiend still rends as of old he rent + The tortured body from which he went. + + But Time tests all. In the over-drift + And flow of the Nile, with its annual gift, + Who cares for the Hadji's relics sunk? + Who thinks of the drowned-out Coptic monk? + The tide that loosens the temple's stones, + And scatters the sacred ibis-bones, + Drives away from the valley-land + That Arab robber, the wandering sand, + Moistens the fields that know no rain, + Fringes the desert with belts of grain, + And bread to the sower brings again. + So the flood of emotion deep and strong + Troubled the land as it swept along, + But left a result of holier lives, + Tenderer-mothers and worthier wives. + The husband and father whose children fled + And sad wife wept when his drunken tread + Frightened peace from his roof-tree's shade, + And a rock of offence his hearthstone made, + In a strength that was not his own began + To rise from the brute's to the plane of man. + Old friends embraced, long held apart + By evil counsel and pride of heart; + And penitence saw through misty tears, + In the bow of hope on its cloud of fears, + The promise of Heaven's eternal years,-- + The peace of God for the world's annoy,-- + Beauty for ashes, and oil of joy + Under the church of Federal Street, + Under the tread of its Sabbath feet, + Walled about by its basement stones, + Lie the marvellous preacher's bones. + No saintly honors to them are shown, + No sign nor miracle have they known; + But he who passes the ancient church + Stops in the shade of its belfry-porch, + And ponders the wonderful life of him + Who lies at rest in that charnel dim. + Long shall the traveller strain his eye + From the railroad car, as it plunges by, + And the vanishing town behind him search + For the slender spire of the Whitefield Church; + And feel for one moment the ghosts of trade, + And fashion, and folly, and pleasure laid, + By the thought of that life of pure intent, + That voice of warning yet eloquent, + Of one on the errands of angels sent. + And if where he labored the flood of sin + Like a tide from the harbor-bar sets in, + And over a life of tune and sense + The church-spires lift their vain defence, + As if to scatter the bolts of God + With the points of Calvin's thunder-rod,-- + Still, as the gem of its civic crown, + Precious beyond the world's renown, + His memory hallows the ancient town! + + 1859. + + + + +THE TRUCE OF PISCATAQUA. + +In the winter of 1675-76, the Eastern Indians, who had been making war +upon the New Hampshire settlements, were so reduced in numbers by +fighting and famine that they agreed to a peace with Major Waldron at +Dover, but the peace was broken in the fall of 1676. The famous chief, +Squando, was the principal negotiator on the part of the savages. He had +taken up the hatchet to revenge the brutal treatment of his child by +drunken white sailors, which caused its death. + +It not unfrequently happened during the Border wars that young white +children were adopted by their Indian captors, and so kindly treated +that they were unwilling to leave the free, wild life of the woods; and +in some instances they utterly refused to go back with their parents to +their old homes and civilization. + + RAZE these long blocks of brick and stone, + These huge mill-monsters overgrown; + Blot out the humbler piles as well, + Where, moved like living shuttles, dwell + The weaving genii of the bell; + Tear from the wild Cocheco's track + The dams that hold its torrents back; + And let the loud-rejoicing fall + Plunge, roaring, down its rocky wall; + And let the Indian's paddle play + On the unbridged Piscataqua! + Wide over hill and valley spread + Once more the forest, dusk and dread, + With here and there a clearing cut + From the walled shadows round it shut; + Each with its farm-house builded rude, + By English yeoman squared and hewed, + And the grim, flankered block-house bound + With bristling palisades around. + So, haply shall before thine eyes + The dusty veil of centuries rise, + The old, strange scenery overlay + The tamer pictures of to-day, + While, like the actors in a play, + Pass in their ancient guise along + The figures of my border song + What time beside Cocheco's flood + The white man and the red man stood, + With words of peace and brotherhood; + When passed the sacred calumet + From lip to lip with fire-draught wet, + And, puffed in scorn, the peace-pipe's smoke + Through the gray beard of Waldron broke, + And Squando's voice, in suppliant plea + For mercy, struck the haughty key + Of one who held, in any fate, + His native pride inviolate! + + "Let your ears be opened wide! + He who speaks has never lied. + Waldron of Piscataqua, + Hear what Squando has to say! + + "Squando shuts his eyes and sees, + Far off, Saco's hemlock-trees. + In his wigwam, still as stone, + Sits a woman all alone, + + "Wampum beads and birchen strands + Dropping from her careless hands, + Listening ever for the fleet + Patter of a dead child's feet! + + "When the moon a year ago + Told the flowers the time to blow, + In that lonely wigwam smiled + Menewee, our little child. + + "Ere that moon grew thin and old, + He was lying still and cold; + Sent before us, weak and small, + When the Master did not call! + + "On his little grave I lay; + Three times went and came the day, + Thrice above me blazed the noon, + Thrice upon me wept the moon. + + "In the third night-watch I heard, + Far and low, a spirit-bird; + Very mournful, very wild, + Sang the totem of my child. + + "'Menewee, poor Menewee, + Walks a path he cannot see + Let the white man's wigwam light + With its blaze his steps aright. + + "'All-uncalled, he dares not show + Empty hands to Manito + Better gifts he cannot bear + Than the scalps his slayers wear.' + + "All the while the totem sang, + Lightning blazed and thunder rang; + And a black cloud, reaching high, + Pulled the white moon from the sky. + + "I, the medicine-man, whose ear + All that spirits bear can hear,-- + I, whose eyes are wide to see + All the things that are to be,-- + + "Well I knew the dreadful signs + In the whispers of the pines, + In the river roaring loud, + In the mutter of the cloud. + + "At the breaking of the day, + From the grave I passed away; + Flowers bloomed round me, birds sang glad, + But my heart was hot and mad. + + "There is rust on Squando's knife, + From the warm, red springs of life; + On the funeral hemlock-trees + Many a scalp the totem sees. + + "Blood for blood! But evermore + Squando's heart is sad and sore; + And his poor squaw waits at home + For the feet that never come! + + "Waldron of Cocheco, hear! + Squando speaks, who laughs at fear; + Take the captives he has ta'en; + Let the land have peace again!" + + As the words died on his tongue, + Wide apart his warriors swung; + Parted, at the sign he gave, + Right and left, like Egypt's wave. + + And, like Israel passing free + Through the prophet-charmed sea, + Captive mother, wife, and child + Through the dusky terror filed. + + One alone, a little maid, + Middleway her steps delayed, + Glancing, with quick, troubled sight, + Round about from red to white. + + Then his hand the Indian laid + On the little maiden's head, + Lightly from her forehead fair + Smoothing back her yellow hair. + + "Gift or favor ask I none; + What I have is all my own + Never yet the birds have sung, + Squando hath a beggar's tongue.' + + "Yet for her who waits at home, + For the dead who cannot come, + Let the little Gold-hair be + In the place of Menewee! + + "Mishanock, my little star! + Come to Saco's pines afar; + Where the sad one waits at home, + Wequashim, my moonlight, come!" + + "What!" quoth Waldron, "leave a child + Christian-born to heathens wild? + As God lives, from Satan's hand + I will pluck her as a brand!" + + "Hear me, white man!" Squando cried; + "Let the little one decide. + Wequashim, my moonlight, say, + Wilt thou go with me, or stay?" + + Slowly, sadly, half afraid, + Half regretfully, the maid + Owned the ties of blood and race,-- + Turned from Squando's pleading face. + + Not a word the Indian spoke, + But his wampum chain he broke, + And the beaded wonder hung + On that neck so fair and young. + + Silence-shod, as phantoms seem + In the marches of a dream, + Single-filed, the grim array + Through the pine-trees wound away. + + Doubting, trembling, sore amazed, + Through her tears the young child gazed. + "God preserve her!" Waldron said; + "Satan hath bewitched the maid!" + + Years went and came. At close of day + Singing came a child from play, + Tossing from her loose-locked head + Gold in sunshine, brown in shade. + + Pride was in the mother's look, + But her head she gravely shook, + And with lips that fondly smiled + Feigned to chide her truant child. + + Unabashed, the maid began + "Up and down the brook I ran, + Where, beneath the bank so steep, + Lie the spotted trout asleep. + + "'Chip!' went squirrel on the wall, + After me I heard him call, + And the cat-bird on the tree + Tried his best to mimic me. + + "Where the hemlocks grew so dark + That I stopped to look and hark, + On a log, with feather-hat, + By the path, an Indian sat. + + "Then I cried, and ran away; + But he called, and bade me stay; + And his voice was good and mild + As my mother's to her child. + + "And he took my wampum chain, + Looked and looked it o'er again; + Gave me berries, and, beside, + On my neck a plaything tied." + + Straight the mother stooped to see + What the Indian's gift might be. + On the braid of wampum hung, + Lo! a cross of silver swung. + + Well she knew its graven sign, + Squando's bird and totem pine; + And, a mirage of the brain, + Flowed her childhood back again. + + Flashed the roof the sunshine through, + Into space the walls outgrew; + On the Indian's wigwam-mat, + Blossom-crowned, again she sat. + + Cool she felt the west-wind blow, + In her ear the pines sang low, + And, like links from out a chain, + Dropped the years of care and pain. + From the outward toil and din, + From the griefs that gnaw within, + To the freedom of the woods + Called the birds, and winds, and floods. + + Well, O painful minister! + Watch thy flock, but blame not her, + If her ear grew sharp to hear + All their voices whispering near. + + Blame her not, as to her soul + All the desert's glamour stole, + That a tear for childhood's loss + Dropped upon the Indian's cross. + + When, that night, the Book was read, + And she bowed her widowed head, + And a prayer for each loved name + Rose like incense from a flame, + + With a hope the creeds forbid + In her pitying bosom hid, + To the listening ear of Heaven + Lo! the Indian's name was given. + + 1860. + + + + +MY PLAYMATE. + + THE pines were dark on Ramoth hill, + Their song was soft and low; + The blossoms in the sweet May wind + Were falling like the snow. + + The blossoms drifted at our feet, + The orchard birds sang clear; + The sweetest and the saddest day + It seemed of all the year. + + For, more to me than birds or flowers, + My playmate left her home, + And took with her the laughing spring, + The music and the bloom. + + She kissed the lips of kith and kin, + She laid her hand in mine + What more could ask the bashful boy + Who fed her father's kine? + + She left us in the bloom of May + The constant years told o'er + Their seasons with as sweet May morns, + But she came back no more. + + I walk, with noiseless feet, the round + Of uneventful years; + Still o'er and o'er I sow the spring + And reap the autumn ears. + + She lives where all the golden year + Her summer roses blow; + The dusky children of the sun + Before her come and go. + + There haply with her jewelled hands + She smooths her silken gown,-- + No more the homespun lap wherein + I shook the walnuts down. + + The wild grapes wait us by the brook, + The brown nuts on the hill, + And still the May-day flowers make sweet + The woods of Follymill. + + The lilies blossom in the pond, + The bird builds in the tree, + The dark pines sing on Ramoth hill + The slow song of the sea. + + I wonder if she thinks of them, + And how the old time seems,-- + If ever the pines of Ramoth wood + Are sounding in her dreams. + + I see her face, I hear her voice; + Does she remember mine? + And what to her is now the boy + Who fed her father's kine? + + What cares she that the orioles build + For other eyes than ours,-- + That other hands with nuts are filled, + And other laps with flowers? + + O playmate in the golden time! + Our mossy seat is green, + Its fringing violets blossom yet, + The old trees o'er it lean. + + The winds so sweet with birch and fern + A sweeter memory blow; + And there in spring the veeries sing + The song of long ago. + + And still the pines of Ramoth wood + Are moaning like the sea,-- + + The moaning of the sea of change + Between myself and thee! + + 1860. + + + + +COBBLER KEEZAR'S VISION. + +This ballad was written on the occasion of a Horticultural Festival. +Cobbler Keezar was a noted character among the first settlers in the +valley of the Merrimac. + + THE beaver cut his timber + With patient teeth that day, + The minks were fish-wards, and the crows + Surveyors of highway,-- + + When Keezar sat on the hillside + Upon his cobbler's form, + With a pan of coals on either hand + To keep his waxed-ends warm. + + And there, in the golden weather, + He stitched and hammered and sung; + In the brook he moistened his leather, + In the pewter mug his tongue. + + Well knew the tough old Teuton + Who brewed the stoutest ale, + And he paid the goodwife's reckoning + In the coin of song and tale. + + The songs they still are singing + Who dress the hills of vine, + The tales that haunt the Brocken + And whisper down the Rhine. + + Woodsy and wild and lonesome, + The swift stream wound away, + Through birches and scarlet maples + Flashing in foam and spray,-- + + Down on the sharp-horned ledges + Plunging in steep cascade, + Tossing its white-maned waters + Against the hemlock's shade. + + Woodsy and wild and lonesome, + East and west and north and south; + Only the village of fishers + Down at the river's mouth; + + Only here and there a clearing, + With its farm-house rude and new, + And tree-stumps, swart as Indians, + Where the scanty harvest grew. + + No shout of home-bound reapers, + No vintage-song he heard, + And on the green no dancing feet + The merry violin stirred. + + "Why should folk be glum," said Keezar, + "When Nature herself is glad, + And the painted woods are laughing + At the faces so sour and sad?" + + Small heed had the careless cobbler + What sorrow of heart was theirs + Who travailed in pain with the births of God, + And planted a state with prayers,-- + + Hunting of witches and warlocks, + Smiting the heathen horde,-- + One hand on the mason's trowel, + And one on the soldier's sword. + + But give him his ale and cider, + Give him his pipe and song, + Little he cared for Church or State, + Or the balance of right and wrong. + + "T is work, work, work," he muttered,-- + "And for rest a snuffle of psalms!" + He smote on his leathern apron + With his brown and waxen palms. + + "Oh for the purple harvests + Of the days when I was young + For the merry grape-stained maidens, + And the pleasant songs they sung! + + "Oh for the breath of vineyards, + Of apples and nuts and wine + For an oar to row and a breeze to blow + Down the grand old river Rhine!" + + A tear in his blue eye glistened, + And dropped on his beard so gray. + "Old, old am I," said Keezar, + "And the Rhine flows far away!" + + But a cunning man was the cobbler; + He could call the birds from the trees, + Charm the black snake out of the ledges, + And bring back the swarming bees. + + All the virtues of herbs and metals, + All the lore of the woods, he knew, + And the arts of the Old World mingle + With the marvels of the New. + + Well he knew the tricks of magic, + And the lapstone on his knee + Had the gift of the Mormon's goggles + Or the stone of Doctor Dee.(11) + + For the mighty master Agrippa + Wrought it with spell and rhyme + From a fragment of mystic moonstone + In the tower of Nettesheim. + + To a cobbler Minnesinger + The marvellous stone gave he,-- + And he gave it, in turn, to Keezar, + Who brought it over the sea. + + He held up that mystic lapstone, + He held it up like a lens, + And he counted the long years coming + Ey twenties and by tens. + + "One hundred years," quoth Keezar, + "And fifty have I told + Now open the new before me, + And shut me out the old!" + + Like a cloud of mist, the blackness + Rolled from the magic stone, + And a marvellous picture mingled + The unknown and the known. + + Still ran the stream to the river, + And river and ocean joined; + And there were the bluffs and the blue sea-line, + And cold north hills behind. + + But--the mighty forest was broken + By many a steepled town, + By many a white-walled farm-house, + And many a garner brown. + + Turning a score of mill-wheels, + The stream no more ran free; + White sails on the winding river, + White sails on the far-off sea. + + Below in the noisy village + The flags were floating gay, + And shone on a thousand faces + The light of a holiday. + + Swiftly the rival ploughmen + Turned the brown earth from their shares; + Here were the farmer's treasures, + There were the craftsman's wares. + + Golden the goodwife's butter, + Ruby her currant-wine; + Grand were the strutting turkeys, + Fat were the beeves and swine. + + Yellow and red were the apples, + And the ripe pears russet-brown, + And the peaches had stolen blushes + From the girls who shook them down. + + And with blooms of hill and wildwood, + That shame the toil of art, + Mingled the gorgeous blossoms + Of the garden's tropic heart. + + "What is it I see?" said Keezar + "Am I here, or ant I there? + Is it a fete at Bingen? + Do I look on Frankfort fair? + + "But where are the clowns and puppets, + And imps with horns and tail? + And where are the Rhenish flagons? + And where is the foaming ale? + + "Strange things, I know, will happen,-- + Strange things the Lord permits; + But that droughty folk should be jolly + Puzzles my poor old wits. + + "Here are smiling manly faces, + And the maiden's step is gay; + Nor sad by thinking, nor mad by drinking, + Nor mopes, nor fools, are they. + + "Here's pleasure without regretting, + And good without abuse, + The holiday and the bridal + Of beauty and of use. + + "Here's a priest and there is a Quaker, + Do the cat and dog agree? + Have they burned the stocks for ovenwood? + Have they cut down the gallows-tree? + + "Would the old folk know their children? + Would they own the graceless town, + With never a ranter to worry + And never a witch to drown?" + + + Loud laughed the cobbler Keezar, + Laughed like a school-boy gay; + Tossing his arms above him, + The lapstone rolled away. + + It rolled down the rugged hillside, + It spun like a wheel bewitched, + It plunged through the leaning willows, + And into the river pitched. + + There, in the deep, dark water, + The magic stone lies still, + Under the leaning willows + In the shadow of the hill. + + But oft the idle fisher + Sits on the shadowy bank, + And his dreams make marvellous pictures + Where the wizard's lapstone sank. + + And still, in the summer twilights, + When the river seems to run + Out from the inner glory, + Warm with the melted sun, + + The weary mill-girl lingers + Beside the charmed stream, + And the sky and the golden water + Shape and color her dream. + + Air wave the sunset gardens, + The rosy signals fly; + Her homestead beckons from the cloud, + And love goes sailing by. + + 1861. + + + + +AMY WENTWORTH + +TO WILLIAM BRADFORD. + + As they who watch by sick-beds find relief + Unwittingly from the great stress of grief + And anxious care, in fantasies outwrought + From the hearth's embers flickering low, or caught + From whispering wind, or tread of passing feet, + Or vagrant memory calling up some sweet + Snatch of old song or romance, whence or why + They scarcely know or ask,--so, thou and I, + Nursed in the faith that Truth alone is strong + In the endurance which outwearies Wrong, + With meek persistence baffling brutal force, + And trusting God against the universe,-- + We, doomed to watch a strife we may not share + With other weapons than the patriot's prayer, + Yet owning, with full hearts and moistened eyes, + The awful beauty of self-sacrifice, + And wrung by keenest sympathy for all + Who give their loved ones for the living wall + 'Twixt law and treason,--in this evil day + May haply find, through automatic play + Of pen and pencil, solace to our pain, + And hearten others with the strength we gain. + I know it has been said our times require + No play of art, nor dalliance with the lyre, + No weak essay with Fancy's chloroform + To calm the hot, mad pulses of the storm, + But the stern war-blast rather, such as sets + The battle's teeth of serried bayonets, + And pictures grim as Vernet's. Yet with these + Some softer tints may blend, and milder keys + Relieve the storm-stunned ear. Let us keep sweet, + If so we may, our hearts, even while we eat + The bitter harvest of our own device + And half a century's moral cowardice. + As Nurnberg sang while Wittenberg defied, + And Kranach painted by his Luther's side, + And through the war-march of the Puritan + The silver stream of Marvell's music ran, + So let the household melodies be sung, + The pleasant pictures on the wall be hung-- + So let us hold against the hosts of night + And slavery all our vantage-ground of light. + Let Treason boast its savagery, and shake + From its flag-folds its symbol rattlesnake, + Nurse its fine arts, lay human skins in tan, + And carve its pipe-bowls from the bones of man, + And make the tale of Fijian banquets dull + By drinking whiskey from a loyal skull,-- + But let us guard, till this sad war shall cease, + (God grant it soon!) the graceful arts of peace + No foes are conquered who the victors teach + Their vandal manners and barbaric speech. + + And while, with hearts of thankfulness, we bear + Of the great common burden our full share, + Let none upbraid us that the waves entice + Thy sea-dipped pencil, or some quaint device, + Rhythmic, and sweet, beguiles my pen away + From the sharp strifes and sorrows of to-day. + Thus, while the east-wind keen from Labrador + Sings it the leafless elms, and from the shore + Of the great sea comes the monotonous roar + Of the long-breaking surf, and all the sky + Is gray with cloud, home-bound and dull, I try + To time a simple legend to the sounds + Of winds in the woods, and waves on pebbled bounds,-- + A song for oars to chime with, such as might + Be sung by tired sea-painters, who at night + Look from their hemlock camps, by quiet cove + Or beach, moon-lighted, on the waves they love. + (So hast thou looked, when level sunset lay + On the calm bosom of some Eastern bay, + And all the spray-moist rocks and waves that rolled + Up the white sand-slopes flashed with ruddy gold.) + Something it has--a flavor of the sea, + And the sea's freedom--which reminds of thee. + Its faded picture, dimly smiling down + From the blurred fresco of the ancient town, + I have not touched with warmer tints in vain, + If, in this dark, sad year, it steals one thought + from pain. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . + + + Her fingers shame the ivory keys + They dance so light along; + The bloom upon her parted lips + Is sweeter than the song. + + O perfumed suitor, spare thy smiles! + Her thoughts are not of thee; + She better loves the salted wind, + The voices of the sea. + + Her heart is like an outbound ship + That at its anchor swings; + The murmur of the stranded shell + Is in the song she sings. + + She sings, and, smiling, hears her praise, + But dreams the while of one + Who watches from his sea-blown deck + The icebergs in the sun. + + She questions all the winds that blow, + And every fog-wreath dim, + And bids the sea-birds flying north + Bear messages to him. + + She speeds them with the thanks of men + He perilled life to save, + And grateful prayers like holy oil + To smooth for him the wave. + + Brown Viking of the fishing-smack! + Fair toast of all the town!-- + The skipper's jerkin ill beseems + The lady's silken gown! + + But ne'er shall Amy Wentworth wear + For him the blush of shame + Who dares to set his manly gifts + Against her ancient name. + + The stream is brightest at its spring, + And blood is not like wine; + Nor honored less than he who heirs + Is he who founds a line. + + Full lightly shall the prize be won, + If love be Fortune's spur; + And never maiden stoops to him + Who lifts himself to her. + + Her home is brave in Jaffrey Street, + With stately stairways worn + By feet of old Colonial knights + And ladies gentle-born. + + Still green about its ample porch + The English ivy twines, + Trained back to show in English oak + The herald's carven signs. + + And on her, from the wainscot old, + Ancestral faces frown,-- + And this has worn the soldier's sword, + And that the judge's gown. + + But, strong of will and proud as they, + She walks the gallery floor + As if she trod her sailor's deck + By stormy Labrador. + + The sweetbrier blooms on Kittery-side, + And green are Elliot's bowers; + Her garden is the pebbled beach, + The mosses are her flowers. + + She looks across the harbor-bar + To see the white gulls fly; + His greeting from the Northern sea + Is in their clanging cry. + + She hums a song, and dreams that he, + As in its romance old, + Shall homeward ride with silken sails + And masts of beaten gold! + + Oh, rank is good, and gold is fair, + And high and low mate ill; + But love has never known a law + Beyond its own sweet will! + + 1862. + + + + +THE COUNTESS. + +TO E. W. + +I inscribed this poem to Dr. Elias Weld of Haverhill, Massachusetts, +to whose kindness I was much indebted in my boyhood. He was the one +cultivated man in the neighborhood. His small but well-chosen library +was placed at my disposal. He is the "wise old doctor" of Snow-Bound. +Count Francois de Vipart with his cousin Joseph Rochemont de Poyen came +to the United States in the early part of the present century. They took +up their residence at Rocks Village on the Merrimac, where they both +married. The wife of Count Vipart was Mary Ingalls, who as my father +remembered her was a very lovely young girl. Her wedding dress, as +described by a lady still living, was "pink satin with an overdress of +white lace, and white satin slippers." She died in less than a year +after her marriage. Her husband returned to his native country. He lies +buried in the family tomb of the Viparts at Bordeaux. + + I KNOW not, Time and Space so intervene, + Whether, still waiting with a trust serene, + Thou bearest up thy fourscore years and ten, + Or, called at last, art now Heaven's citizen; + But, here or there, a pleasant thought of thee, + Like an old friend, all day has been with me. + The shy, still boy, for whom thy kindly hand + Smoothed his hard pathway to the wonder-land + Of thought and fancy, in gray manhood yet + Keeps green the memory of his early debt. + To-day, when truth and falsehood speak their words + Through hot-lipped cannon and the teeth of swords, + Listening with quickened heart and ear intent + To each sharp clause of that stern argument, + I still can hear at times a softer note + Of the old pastoral music round me float, + While through the hot gleam of our civil strife + Looms the green mirage of a simpler life. + As, at his alien post, the sentinel + Drops the old bucket in the homestead well, + And hears old voices in the winds that toss + Above his head the live-oak's beard of moss, + So, in our trial-time, and under skies + Shadowed by swords like Islam's paradise, + I wait and watch, and let my fancy stray + To milder scenes and youth's Arcadian day; + And howsoe'er the pencil dipped in dreams + Shades the brown woods or tints the sunset streams, + The country doctor in the foreground seems, + Whose ancient sulky down the village lanes + Dragged, like a war-car, captive ills and pains. + I could not paint the scenery of my song, + Mindless of one who looked thereon so long; + Who, night and day, on duty's lonely round, + Made friends o' the woods and rocks, and knew the sound + Of each small brook, and what the hillside trees + Said to the winds that touched their leafy keys; + Who saw so keenly and so well could paint + The village-folk, with all their humors quaint, + The parson ambling on his wall-eyed roan. + Grave and erect, with white hair backward blown; + The tough old boatman, half amphibious grown; + The muttering witch-wife of the gossip's tale, + And the loud straggler levying his blackmail,-- + Old customs, habits, superstitions, fears, + All that lies buried under fifty years. + To thee, as is most fit, I bring my lay, + And, grateful, own the debt I cannot pay. + + . . . . . . . . . . + + Over the wooded northern ridge, + Between its houses brown, + To the dark tunnel of the bridge + The street comes straggling down. + + You catch a glimpse, through birch and pine, + Of gable, roof, and porch, + The tavern with its swinging sign, + The sharp horn of the church. + + The river's steel-blue crescent curves + To meet, in ebb and flow, + The single broken wharf that serves + For sloop and gundelow. + + With salt sea-scents along its shores + The heavy hay-boats crawl, + The long antennae of their oars + In lazy rise and fall. + + Along the gray abutment's wall + The idle shad-net dries; + The toll-man in his cobbler's stall + Sits smoking with closed eyes. + + You hear the pier's low undertone + Of waves that chafe and gnaw; + You start,--a skipper's horn is blown + To raise the creaking draw. + + At times a blacksmith's anvil sounds + With slow and sluggard beat, + Or stage-coach on its dusty rounds + Fakes up the staring street. + + A place for idle eyes and ears, + A cobwebbed nook of dreams; + Left by the stream whose waves are years + The stranded village seems. + + And there, like other moss and rust, + The native dweller clings, + And keeps, in uninquiring trust, + The old, dull round of things. + + The fisher drops his patient lines, + The farmer sows his grain, + Content to hear the murmuring pines + Instead of railroad-train. + + Go where, along the tangled steep + That slopes against the west, + The hamlet's buried idlers sleep + In still profounder rest. + + Throw back the locust's flowery plume, + The birch's pale-green scarf, + And break the web of brier and bloom + From name and epitaph. + + A simple muster-roll of death, + Of pomp and romance shorn, + The dry, old names that common breath + Has cheapened and outworn. + + Yet pause by one low mound, and part + The wild vines o'er it laced, + And read the words by rustic art + Upon its headstone traced. + + Haply yon white-haired villager + Of fourscore years can say + What means the noble name of her + Who sleeps with common clay. + + An exile from the Gascon land + Found refuge here and rest, + And loved, of all the village band, + Its fairest and its best. + + He knelt with her on Sabbath morns, + He worshipped through her eyes, + And on the pride that doubts and scorns + Stole in her faith's surprise. + + Her simple daily life he saw + By homeliest duties tried, + In all things by an untaught law + Of fitness justified. + + For her his rank aside he laid; + He took the hue and tone + Of lowly life and toil, and made + Her simple ways his own. + + Yet still, in gay and careless ease, + To harvest-field or dance + He brought the gentle courtesies, + The nameless grace of France. + + And she who taught him love not less + From him she loved in turn + Caught in her sweet unconsciousness + What love is quick to learn. + + Each grew to each in pleased accord, + Nor knew the gazing town + If she looked upward to her lord + Or he to her looked down. + + How sweet, when summer's day was o'er, + His violin's mirth and wail, + The walk on pleasant Newbury's shore, + The river's moonlit sail! + + Ah! life is brief, though love be long; + The altar and the bier, + The burial hymn and bridal song, + Were both in one short year! + + Her rest is quiet on the hill, + Beneath the locust's bloom + Far off her lover sleeps as still + Within his scutcheoned tomb. + + The Gascon lord, the village maid, + In death still clasp their hands; + The love that levels rank and grade + Unites their severed lands. + + What matter whose the hillside grave, + Or whose the blazoned stone? + Forever to her western wave + Shall whisper blue Garonne! + + O Love!--so hallowing every soil + That gives thy sweet flower room, + Wherever, nursed by ease or toil, + The human heart takes bloom!-- + + Plant of lost Eden, from the sod + Of sinful earth unriven, + White blossom of the trees of God + Dropped down to us from heaven! + + This tangled waste of mound and stone + Is holy for thy sale; + A sweetness which is all thy own + Breathes out from fern and brake. + + And while ancestral pride shall twine + The Gascon's tomb with flowers, + Fall sweetly here, O song of mine, + With summer's bloom and showers! + + And let the lines that severed seem + Unite again in thee, + As western wave and Gallic stream + Are mingled in one sea! + + 1863. + + + + +AMONG THE HILLS + +This poem, when originally published, was dedicated to Annie Fields, +wife of the distinguished publisher, James T. Fields, of Boston, in +grateful acknowledgment of the strength and inspiration I have found in +her friendship and sympathy. The poem in its first form was entitled The +Wife: an Idyl of Bearcamp Water, and appeared in The Atlantic Monthly +for January, 1868. When I published the volume Among the Hills, in +December of the same year, I expanded the Prelude and filled out also +the outlines of the story. + + + PRELUDE. + + ALONG the roadside, like the flowers of gold + That tawny Incas for their gardens wrought, + Heavy with sunshine droops the golden-rod, + And the red pennons of the cardinal-flowers + Hang motionless upon their upright staves. + The sky is hot and hazy, and the wind, + Vying-weary with its long flight from the south, + Unfelt; yet, closely scanned, yon maple leaf + With faintest motion, as one stirs in dreams, + Confesses it. The locust by the wall + Stabs the noon-silence with his sharp alarm. + A single hay-cart down the dusty road + Creaks slowly, with its driver fast asleep + On the load's top. Against the neighboring hill, + Huddled along the stone wall's shady side, + The sheep show white, as if a snowdrift still + Defied the dog-star. Through the open door + A drowsy smell of flowers-gray heliotrope, + And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette-- + Comes faintly in, and silent chorus lends + To the pervading symphony of peace. + No time is this for hands long over-worn + To task their strength; and (unto Him be praise + Who giveth quietness!) the stress and strain + Of years that did the work of centuries + Have ceased, and we can draw our breath once more + Freely and full. So, as yon harvesters + Make glad their nooning underneath the elms + With tale and riddle and old snatch of song, + I lay aside grave themes, and idly turn + The leaves of memory's sketch-book, dreaming o'er + Old summer pictures of the quiet hills, + And human life, as quiet, at their feet. + + And yet not idly all. A farmer's son, + Proud of field-lore and harvest craft, and feeling + All their fine possibilities, how rich + And restful even poverty and toil + Become when beauty, harmony, and love + Sit at their humble hearth as angels sat + At evening in the patriarch's tent, when man + Makes labor noble, and his farmer's frock + The symbol of a Christian chivalry + Tender and just and generous to her + Who clothes with grace all duty; still, I know + Too well the picture has another side,-- + How wearily the grind of toil goes on + Where love is wanting, how the eye and ear + And heart are starved amidst the plenitude + Of nature, and how hard and colorless + Is life without an atmosphere. I look + Across the lapse of half a century, + And call to mind old homesteads, where no flower + Told that the spring had come, but evil weeds, + Nightshade and rough-leaved burdock in the place + Of the sweet doorway greeting of the rose + And honeysuckle, where the house walls seemed + Blistering in sun, without a tree or vine + To cast the tremulous shadow of its leaves + Across the curtainless windows, from whose panes + Fluttered the signal rags of shiftlessness. + Within, the cluttered kitchen-floor, unwashed + (Broom-clean I think they called it); the best room + Stifling with cellar damp, shut from the air + In hot midsummer, bookless, pictureless, + Save the inevitable sampler hung + Over the fireplace, or a mourning piece, + A green-haired woman, peony-cheeked, beneath + Impossible willows; the wide-throated hearth + Bristling with faded pine-boughs half concealing + The piled-up rubbish at the chimney's back; + And, in sad keeping with all things about them, + Shrill, querulous-women, sour and sullen men, + Untidy, loveless, old before their time, + With scarce a human interest save their own + Monotonous round of small economies, + Or the poor scandal of the neighborhood; + Blind to the beauty everywhere revealed, + Treading the May-flowers with regardless feet; + For them the song-sparrow and the bobolink + Sang not, nor winds made music in the leaves; + For them in vain October's holocaust + Burned, gold and crimson, over all the hills, + The sacramental mystery of the woods. + Church-goers, fearful of the unseen Powers, + But grumbling over pulpit-tax and pew-rent, + Saving, as shrewd economists, their souls + And winter pork with the least possible outlay + Of salt and sanctity; in daily life + Showing as little actual comprehension + Of Christian charity and love and duty, + As if the Sermon on the Mount had been + Outdated like a last year's almanac + Rich in broad woodlands and in half-tilled fields, + And yet so pinched and bare and comfortless, + The veriest straggler limping on his rounds, + The sun and air his sole inheritance, + Laughed at a poverty that paid its taxes, + And hugged his rags in self-complacency! + + Not such should be the homesteads of a land + Where whoso wisely wills and acts may dwell + As king and lawgiver, in broad-acred state, + With beauty, art, taste, culture, books, to make + His hour of leisure richer than a life + Of fourscore to the barons of old time, + Our yeoman should be equal to his home + Set in the fair, green valleys, purple walled, + A man to match his mountains, not to creep + Dwarfed and abased below them. I would fain + In this light way (of which I needs must own + With the knife-grinder of whom Canning sings, + "Story, God bless you! I have none to tell you!") + Invite the eye to see and heart to feel + The beauty and the joy within their reach,-- + Home, and home loves, and the beatitudes + Of nature free to all. Haply in years + That wait to take the places of our own, + Heard where some breezy balcony looks down + On happy homes, or where the lake in the moon + Sleeps dreaming of the mountains, fair as Ruth, + In the old Hebrew pastoral, at the feet + Of Boaz, even this simple lay of mine + May seem the burden of a prophecy, + Finding its late fulfilment in a change + Slow as the oak's growth, lifting manhood up + Through broader culture, finer manners, love, + And reverence, to the level of the hills. + + O Golden Age, whose light is of the dawn, + And not of sunset, forward, not behind, + Flood the new heavens and earth, and with thee bring + All the old virtues, whatsoever things + Are pure and honest and of good repute, + But add thereto whatever bard has sung + Or seer has told of when in trance and dream + They saw the Happy Isles of prophecy + Let Justice hold her scale, and Truth divide + Between the right and wrong; but give the heart + The freedom of its fair inheritance; + Let the poor prisoner, cramped and starved so long, + At Nature's table feast his ear and eye + With joy and wonder; let all harmonies + Of sound, form, color, motion, wait upon + The princely guest, whether in soft attire + Of leisure clad, or the coarse frock of toil, + And, lending life to the dead form of faith, + Give human nature reverence for the sake + Of One who bore it, making it divine + With the ineffable tenderness of God; + Let common need, the brotherhood of prayer, + The heirship of an unknown destiny, + The unsolved mystery round about us, make + A man more precious than the gold of Ophir. + Sacred, inviolate, unto whom all things + Should minister, as outward types and signs + Of the eternal beauty which fulfils + The one great purpose of creation, Love, + The sole necessity of Earth and Heaven! + + . . . . . . . . . . . + + For weeks the clouds had raked the hills + And vexed the vales with raining, + And all the woods were sad with mist, + And all the brooks complaining. + + At last, a sudden night-storm tore + The mountain veils asunder, + And swept the valleys clean before + The besom of the thunder. + + Through Sandwich notch the west-wind sang + Good morrow to the cotter; + And once again Chocorua's horn + Of shadow pierced the water. + + Above his broad lake Ossipee, + Once more the sunshine wearing, + Stooped, tracing on that silver shield + His grim armorial bearing. + + Clear drawn against the hard blue sky, + The peaks had winter's keenness; + And, close on autumn's frost, the vales + Had more than June's fresh greenness. + + Again the sodden forest floors + With golden lights were checkered, + Once more rejoicing leaves in wind + And sunshine danced and flickered. + + It was as if the summer's late + Atoning for it's sadness + Had borrowed every season's charm + To end its days in gladness. + + Rivers of gold-mist flowing down + From far celestial fountains,-- + The great sun flaming through the rifts + Beyond the wall of mountains. + + We paused at last where home-bound cows + Brought down the pasture's treasure, + And in the barn the rhythmic flails + Beat out a harvest measure. + + We heard the night-hawk's sullen plunge, + The crow his tree-mates calling + The shadows lengthening down the slopes + About our feet were falling. + + And through them smote the level sun + In broken lines of splendor, + Touched the gray rocks and made the green + Of the shorn grass more tender. + + The maples bending o'er the gate, + Their arch of leaves just tinted + With yellow warmth, the golden glow + Of coming autumn hinted. + + Keen white between the farm-house showed, + And smiled on porch and trellis, + The fair democracy of flowers + That equals cot and palace. + + And weaving garlands for her dog, + 'Twixt chidings and caresses, + A human flower of childhood shook + The sunshine from her tresses. + + Clear drawn against the hard blue sky, + The peaks had winter's keenness; + And, close on autumn's frost, the vales + Had more than June's fresh greenness. + + Again the sodden forest floors + With golden lights were checkered, + Once more rejoicing leaves in wind + And sunshine danced and flickered. + + It was as if the summer's late + Atoning for it's sadness + Had borrowed every season's charm + To end its days in gladness. + + I call to mind those banded vales + Of shadow and of shining, + Through which, my hostess at my side, + I drove in day's declining. + + We held our sideling way above + The river's whitening shallows, + By homesteads old, with wide-flung barns + Swept through and through by swallows; + + By maple orchards, belts of pine + And larches climbing darkly + The mountain slopes, and, over all, + The great peaks rising starkly. + + You should have seen that long hill-range + With gaps of brightness riven,-- + How through each pass and hollow streamed + The purpling lights of heaven,-- + + On either hand we saw the signs + Of fancy and of shrewdness, + Where taste had wound its arms of vines + Round thrift's uncomely rudeness. + + The sun-brown farmer in his frock + Shook hands, and called to Mary + Bare-armed, as Juno might, she came, + White-aproned from her dairy. + + Her air, her smile, her motions, told + Of womanly completeness; + A music as of household songs + Was in her voice of sweetness. + + Not fair alone in curve and line, + But something more and better, + The secret charm eluding art, + Its spirit, not its letter;-- + + An inborn grace that nothing lacked + Of culture or appliance, + The warmth of genial courtesy, + The calm of self-reliance. + + Before her queenly womanhood + How dared our hostess utter + The paltry errand of her need + To buy her fresh-churned butter? + + She led the way with housewife pride, + Her goodly store disclosing, + Full tenderly the golden balls + With practised hands disposing. + + Then, while along the western hills + We watched the changeful glory + Of sunset, on our homeward way, + I heard her simple story. + + The early crickets sang; the stream + Plashed through my friend's narration + Her rustic patois of the hills + Lost in my free-translation. + + "More wise," she said, "than those who swarm + Our hills in middle summer, + She came, when June's first roses blow, + To greet the early comer. + + "From school and ball and rout she came, + The city's fair, pale daughter, + To drink the wine of mountain air + Beside the Bearcamp Water. + + "Her step grew firmer on the hills + That watch our homesteads over; + On cheek and lip, from summer fields, + She caught the bloom of clover. + + "For health comes sparkling in the streams + From cool Chocorua stealing + There's iron in our Northern winds; + Our pines are trees of healing. + + "She sat beneath the broad-armed elms + That skirt the mowing-meadow, + And watched the gentle west-wind weave + The grass with shine and shadow. + + "Beside her, from the summer heat + To share her grateful screening, + With forehead bared, the farmer stood, + Upon his pitchfork leaning. + + "Framed in its damp, dark locks, his face + Had nothing mean or common,-- + Strong, manly, true, the tenderness + And pride beloved of woman. + + "She looked up, glowing with the health + The country air had brought her, + And, laughing, said: 'You lack a wife, + Your mother lacks a daughter. + + "'To mend your frock and bake your bread + You do not need a lady + Be sure among these brown old homes + Is some one waiting ready,-- + + "'Some fair, sweet girl with skilful hand + And cheerful heart for treasure, + Who never played with ivory keys, + Or danced the polka's measure.' + + "He bent his black brows to a frown, + He set his white teeth tightly. + ''T is well,' he said, 'for one like you + To choose for me so lightly. + + "You think, because my life is rude + I take no note of sweetness + I tell you love has naught to do + With meetness or unmeetness. + + "'Itself its best excuse, it asks + No leave of pride or fashion + When silken zone or homespun frock + It stirs with throbs of passion. + + "'You think me deaf and blind: you bring + Your winning graces hither + As free as if from cradle-time + We two had played together. + + "'You tempt me with your laughing eyes, + Your cheek of sundown's blushes, + A motion as of waving grain, + A music as of thrushes. + + "'The plaything of your summer sport, + The spells you weave around me + You cannot at your will undo, + Nor leave me as you found me. + + "'You go as lightly as you came, + Your life is well without me; + What care you that these hills will close + Like prison-walls about me? + + "'No mood is mine to seek a wife, + Or daughter for my mother + Who loves you loses in that love + All power to love another! + + "'I dare your pity or your scorn, + With pride your own exceeding; + I fling my heart into your lap + Without a word of pleading.' + + "She looked up in his face of pain + So archly, yet so tender + 'And if I lend you mine,' she said, + 'Will you forgive the lender? + + "'Nor frock nor tan can hide the man; + And see you not, my farmer, + How weak and fond a woman waits + Behind this silken armor? + + "'I love you: on that love alone, + And not my worth, presuming, + Will you not trust for summer fruit + The tree in May-day blooming?' + + "Alone the hangbird overhead, + His hair-swung cradle straining, + Looked down to see love's miracle,-- + The giving that is gaining. + + "And so the farmer found a wife, + His mother found a daughter + There looks no happier home than hers + On pleasant Bearcamp Water. + + "Flowers spring to blossom where she walks + The careful ways of duty; + Our hard, stiff lines of life with her + Are flowing curves of beauty. + + "Our homes are cheerier for her sake, + Our door-yards brighter blooming, + And all about the social air + Is sweeter for her coming. + + "Unspoken homilies of peace + Her daily life is preaching; + The still refreshment of the dew + Is her unconscious teaching. + + "And never tenderer hand than hers + Unknits the brow of ailing; + Her garments to the sick man's ear + Have music in their trailing. + + "And when, in pleasant harvest moons, + The youthful huskers gather, + Or sleigh-drives on the mountain ways + Defy the winter weather,-- + + "In sugar-camps, when south and warm + The winds of March are blowing, + And sweetly from its thawing veins + The maple's blood is flowing,-- + + "In summer, where some lilied pond + Its virgin zone is baring, + Or where the ruddy autumn fire + Lights up the apple-paring,-- + + "The coarseness of a ruder time + Her finer mirth displaces, + A subtler sense of pleasure fills + Each rustic sport she graces. + + "Her presence lends its warmth and health + To all who come before it. + If woman lost us Eden, such + As she alone restore it. + + "For larger life and wiser aims + The farmer is her debtor; + Who holds to his another's heart + Must needs be worse or better. + + "Through her his civic service shows + A purer-toned ambition; + No double consciousness divides + The man and politician. + + "In party's doubtful ways he trusts + Her instincts to determine; + At the loud polls, the thought of her + Recalls Christ's Mountain Sermon. + + "He owns her logic of the heart, + And wisdom of unreason, + Supplying, while he doubts and weighs, + The needed word in season. + + "He sees with pride her richer thought, + Her fancy's freer ranges; + And love thus deepened to respect + Is proof against all changes. + + "And if she walks at ease in ways + His feet are slow to travel, + And if she reads with cultured eyes + What his may scarce unravel, + + "Still clearer, for her keener sight + Of beauty and of wonder, + He learns the meaning of the hills + He dwelt from childhood under. + + "And higher, warmed with summer lights, + Or winter-crowned and hoary, + The ridged horizon lifts for him + Its inner veils of glory. + + "He has his own free, bookless lore, + The lessons nature taught him, + The wisdom which the woods and hills + And toiling men have brought him: + + "The steady force of will whereby + Her flexile grace seems sweeter; + The sturdy counterpoise which makes + Her woman's life completer. + + "A latent fire of soul which lacks + No breath of love to fan it; + And wit, that, like his native brooks, + Plays over solid granite. + + "How dwarfed against his manliness + She sees the poor pretension, + The wants, the aims, the follies, born + Of fashion and convention. + + "How life behind its accidents + Stands strong and self-sustaining, + The human fact transcending all + The losing and the gaining. + + "And so in grateful interchange + Of teacher and of hearer, + Their lives their true distinctness keep + While daily drawing nearer. + + "And if the husband or the wife + In home's strong light discovers + Such slight defaults as failed to meet + The blinded eyes of lovers, + + "Why need we care to ask?--who dreams + Without their thorns of roses, + Or wonders that the truest steel + The readiest spark discloses? + + "For still in mutual sufferance lies + The secret of true living; + Love scarce is love that never knows + The sweetness of forgiving. + + "We send the Squire to General Court, + He takes his young wife thither; + No prouder man election day + Rides through the sweet June weather. + + "He sees with eyes of manly trust + All hearts to her inclining; + Not less for him his household light + That others share its shining." + + Thus, while my hostess spake, there grew + Before me, warmer tinted + And outlined with a tenderer grace, + The picture that she hinted. + + The sunset smouldered as we drove + Beneath the deep hill-shadows. + Below us wreaths of white fog walked + Like ghosts the haunted meadows. + + Sounding the summer night, the stars + Dropped down their golden plummets; + The pale arc of the Northern lights + Rose o'er the mountain summits, + + Until, at last, beneath its bridge, + We heard the Bearcamp flowing, + And saw across the mapled lawn + The welcome home lights glowing. + + And, musing on the tale I heard, + 'T were well, thought I, if often + To rugged farm-life came the gift + To harmonize and soften; + + If more and more we found the troth + Of fact and fancy plighted, + And culture's charm and labor's strength + In rural homes united,-- + + The simple life, the homely hearth, + With beauty's sphere surrounding, + And blessing toil where toil abounds + With graces more abounding. + + 1868. + + + + +THE DOLE OF JARL THORKELL. + + THE land was pale with famine + And racked with fever-pain; + The frozen fiords were fishless, + The earth withheld her grain. + + Men saw the boding Fylgja + Before them come and go, + And, through their dreams, the Urdarmoon + From west to east sailed slow. + + Jarl Thorkell of Thevera + At Yule-time made his vow; + On Rykdal's holy Doom-stone + He slew to Frey his cow. + + To bounteous Frey he slew her; + To Skuld, the younger Norn, + Who watches over birth and death, + He gave her calf unborn. + + And his little gold-haired daughter + Took up the sprinkling-rod, + And smeared with blood the temple + And the wide lips of the god. + + Hoarse below, the winter water + Ground its ice-blocks o'er and o'er; + Jets of foam, like ghosts of dead waves, + Rose and fell along the shore. + + The red torch of the Jokul, + Aloft in icy space, + Shone down on the bloody Horg-stones + And the statue's carven face. + + And closer round and grimmer + Beneath its baleful light + The Jotun shapes of mountains + Came crowding through the night. + + The gray-haired Hersir trembled + As a flame by wind is blown; + A weird power moved his white lips, + And their voice was not his own. + + "The AEsir thirst!" he muttered; + "The gods must have more blood + Before the tun shall blossom + Or fish shall fill the flood. + + "The AEsir thirst and hunger, + And hence our blight and ban; + The mouths of the strong gods water + For the flesh and blood of man! + + "Whom shall we give the strong ones? + Not warriors, sword on thigh; + But let the nursling infant + And bedrid old man die." + + "So be it!" cried the young men, + "There needs nor doubt nor parle." + But, knitting hard his red brows, + In silence stood the Jarl. + + A sound of woman's weeping + At the temple door was heard, + But the old men bowed their white heads, + And answered not a word. + + Then the Dream-wife of Thingvalla, + A Vala young and fair, + Sang softly, stirring with her breath + The veil of her loose hair. + + She sang: "The winds from Alfheim + Bring never sound of strife; + The gifts for Frey the meetest + Are not of death, but life. + + "He loves the grass-green meadows, + The grazing kine's sweet breath; + He loathes your bloody Horg-stones, + Your gifts that smell of death. + + "No wrong by wrong is righted, + No pain is cured by pain; + The blood that smokes from Doom-rings + Falls back in redder rain. + + "The gods are what you make them, + As earth shall Asgard prove; + And hate will come of hating, + And love will come of love. + + "Make dole of skyr and black bread + That old and young may live; + And look to Frey for favor + When first like Frey you give. + + "Even now o'er Njord's sea-meadows + The summer dawn begins + The tun shall have its harvest, + The fiord its glancing fins." + + Then up and swore Jarl Thorkell + "By Gimli and by Hel, + O Vala of Thingvalla, + Thou singest wise and well! + + "Too dear the AEsir's favors + Bought with our children's lives; + Better die than shame in living + Our mothers and our wives. + + "The full shall give his portion + To him who hath most need; + Of curdled skyr and black bread, + Be daily dole decreed." + + He broke from off his neck-chain + Three links of beaten gold; + And each man, at his bidding, + Brought gifts for young and old. + + Then mothers nursed their children, + And daughters fed their sires, + And Health sat down with Plenty + Before the next Yule fires. + + The Horg-stones stand in Rykdal; + The Doom-ring still remains; + But the snows of a thousand winters + Have washed away the stains. + + Christ ruleth now; the Asir + Have found their twilight dim; + And, wiser than she dreamed, of old + The Vala sang of Him + + 1868. + + + + +THE TWO RABBINS. + + THE Rabbi Nathan two-score years and ten + Walked blameless through the evil world, and then, + Just as the almond blossomed in his hair, + Met a temptation all too strong to bear, + And miserably sinned. So, adding not + Falsehood to guilt, he left his seat, and taught + No more among the elders, but went out + From the great congregation girt about + With sackcloth, and with ashes on his head, + Making his gray locks grayer. Long he prayed, + Smiting his breast; then, as the Book he laid + Open before him for the Bath-Col's choice, + Pausing to hear that Daughter of a Voice, + Behold the royal preacher's words: "A friend + Loveth at all times, yea, unto the end; + And for the evil day thy brother lives." + Marvelling, he said: "It is the Lord who gives + Counsel in need. At Ecbatana dwells + Rabbi Ben Isaac, who all men excels + In righteousness and wisdom, as the trees + Of Lebanon the small weeds that the bees + Bow with their weight. I will arise, and lay + My sins before him." + + And he went his way + Barefooted, fasting long, with many prayers; + But even as one who, followed unawares, + Suddenly in the darkness feels a hand + Thrill with its touch his own, and his cheek fanned + By odors subtly sweet, and whispers near + Of words he loathes, yet cannot choose but hear, + So, while the Rabbi journeyed, chanting low + The wail of David's penitential woe, + Before him still the old temptation came, + And mocked him with the motion and the shame + Of such desires that, shuddering, he abhorred + Himself; and, crying mightily to the Lord + To free his soul and cast the demon out, + Smote with his staff the blankness round about. + + At length, in the low light of a spent day, + The towers of Ecbatana far away + Rose on the desert's rim; and Nathan, faint + And footsore, pausing where for some dead saint + The faith of Islam reared a domed tomb, + Saw some one kneeling in the shadow, whom + He greeted kindly: "May the Holy One + Answer thy prayers, O stranger!" Whereupon + The shape stood up with a loud cry, and then, + Clasped in each other's arms, the two gray men + Wept, praising Him whose gracious providence + Made their paths one. But straightway, as the sense + Of his transgression smote him, Nathan tore + Himself away: "O friend beloved, no more + Worthy am I to touch thee, for I came, + Foul from my sins, to tell thee all my shame. + Haply thy prayers, since naught availeth mine, + May purge my soul, and make it white like thine. + Pity me, O Ben Isaac, I have sinned!" + + Awestruck Ben Isaac stood. The desert wind + Blew his long mantle backward, laying bare + The mournful secret of his shirt of hair. + "I too, O friend, if not in act," he said, + "In thought have verily sinned. Hast thou not read, + 'Better the eye should see than that desire + Should wander?' Burning with a hidden fire + That tears and prayers quench not, I come to thee + For pity and for help, as thou to me. + Pray for me, O my friend!" But Nathan cried, + "Pray thou for me, Ben Isaac!" + + Side by side + In the low sunshine by the turban stone + They knelt; each made his brother's woe his own, + Forgetting, in the agony and stress + Of pitying love, his claim of selfishness; + Peace, for his friend besought, his own became; + His prayers were answered in another's name; + And, when at last they rose up to embrace, + Each saw God's pardon in his brother's face! + + Long after, when his headstone gathered moss, + Traced on the targum-marge of Onkelos + In Rabbi Nathan's hand these words were read: + "_Hope not the cure of sin till Self is dead; + Forget it in love's service, and the debt + Thou, canst not pay the angels shall forget; + Heaven's gate is shut to him who comes alone; + Save thou a soul, and it shall save thy own!_" + + 1868. + + + + +NOREMBEGA. + +Norembega, or Norimbegue, is the name given by early French fishermen +and explorers to a fabulous country south of Cape Breton, first +discovered by Verrazzani in 1524. It was supposed to have a magnificent +city of the same name on a great river, probably the Penobscot. The site +of this barbaric city is laid down on a map published at Antwerp in +1570. In 1604 Champlain sailed in search of the Northern Eldorado, +twenty-two leagues up the Penobscot from the Isle Haute. He supposed the +river to be that of Norembega, but wisely came to the conclusion that +those travellers who told of the great city had never seen it. He saw no +evidences of anything like civilization, but mentions the finding of a +cross, very old and mossy, in the woods. + + THE winding way the serpent takes + The mystic water took, + From where, to count its beaded lakes, + The forest sped its brook. + + A narrow space 'twixt shore and shore, + For sun or stars to fall, + While evermore, behind, before, + Closed in the forest wall. + + The dim wood hiding underneath + Wan flowers without a name; + Life tangled with decay and death, + League after league the same. + + Unbroken over swamp and hill + The rounding shadow lay, + Save where the river cut at will + A pathway to the day. + + Beside that track of air and light, + Weak as a child unweaned, + At shut of day a Christian knight + Upon his henchman leaned. + + The embers of the sunset's fires + Along the clouds burned down; + "I see," he said, "the domes and spires + Of Norembega town." + + "Alack! the domes, O master mine, + Are golden clouds on high; + Yon spire is but the branchless pine + That cuts the evening sky." + + "Oh, hush and hark! What sounds are these + But chants and holy hymns?" + "Thou hear'st the breeze that stirs the trees + Though all their leafy limbs." + + "Is it a chapel bell that fills + The air with its low tone?" + "Thou hear'st the tinkle of the rills, + The insect's vesper drone." + + "The Christ be praised!--He sets for me + A blessed cross in sight!" + "Now, nay, 't is but yon blasted tree + With two gaunt arms outright!" + + "Be it wind so sad or tree so stark, + It mattereth not, my knave; + Methinks to funeral hymns I hark, + The cross is for my grave! + + "My life is sped; I shall not see + My home-set sails again; + The sweetest eyes of Normandie + Shall watch for me in vain. + + "Yet onward still to ear and eye + The baffling marvel calls; + I fain would look before I die + On Norembega's walls. + + "So, haply, it shall be thy part + At Christian feet to lay + The mystery of the desert's heart + My dead hand plucked away. + + "Leave me an hour of rest; go thou + And look from yonder heights; + Perchance the valley even now + Is starred with city lights." + + The henchman climbed the nearest hill, + He saw nor tower nor town, + But, through the drear woods, lone and still, + The river rolling down. + + He heard the stealthy feet of things + Whose shapes he could not see, + A flutter as of evil wings, + The fall of a dead tree. + + The pines stood black against the moon, + A sword of fire beyond; + He heard the wolf howl, and the loon + Laugh from his reedy pond. + + He turned him back: "O master dear, + We are but men misled; + And thou hast sought a city here + To find a grave instead." + + "As God shall will! what matters where + A true man's cross may stand, + So Heaven be o'er it here as there + In pleasant Norman land? + + "These woods, perchance, no secret hide + Of lordly tower and hall; + Yon river in its wanderings wide + Has washed no city wall; + + "Yet mirrored in the sullen stream + The holy stars are given + Is Norembega, then, a dream + Whose waking is in Heaven? + + "No builded wonder of these lands + My weary eyes shall see; + A city never made with hands + Alone awaiteth me-- + + "'_Urbs Syon mystica_;' I see + Its mansions passing fair, + '_Condita caelo_;' let me be, + Dear Lord, a dweller there!" + + Above the dying exile hung + The vision of the bard, + As faltered on his failing tongue + The song of good Bernard. + + The henchman dug at dawn a grave + Beneath the hemlocks brown, + And to the desert's keeping gave + The lord of fief and town. + + Years after, when the Sieur Champlain + Sailed up the unknown stream, + And Norembega proved again + A shadow and a dream, + + He found the Norman's nameless grave + Within the hemlock's shade, + And, stretching wide its arms to save, + The sign that God had made, + + The cross-boughed tree that marked the spot + And made it holy ground + He needs the earthly city not + Who hath the heavenly found. + + 1869. + + + + +MIRIAM. + +TO FREDERICK A. P. BARNARD. + + THE years are many since, in youth and hope, + Under the Charter Oak, our horoscope + We drew thick-studded with all favoring stars. + Now, with gray beards, and faces seamed with scars + From life's hard battle, meeting once again, + We smile, half sadly, over dreams so vain; + Knowing, at last, that it is not in man + Who walketh to direct his steps, or plan + His permanent house of life. Alike we loved + The muses' haunts, and all our fancies moved + To measures of old song. How since that day + Our feet have parted from the path that lay + So fair before us! Rich, from lifelong search + Of truth, within thy Academic porch + Thou sittest now, lord of a realm of fact, + Thy servitors the sciences exact; + Still listening with thy hand on Nature's keys, + To hear the Samian's spheral harmonies + And rhythm of law. I called from dream and song, + Thank God! so early to a strife so long, + That, ere it closed, the black, abundant hair + Of boyhood rested silver-sown and spare + On manhood's temples, now at sunset-chime + Tread with fond feet the path of morning time. + And if perchance too late I linger where + The flowers have ceased to blow, and trees are bare, + Thou, wiser in thy choice, wilt scarcely blame + The friend who shields his folly with thy name. + AMESBURY, 10th mo., 1870. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . . + + One Sabbath day my friend and I + After the meeting, quietly + Passed from the crowded village lanes, + White with dry dust for lack of rains, + And climbed the neighboring slope, with feet + Slackened and heavy from the heat, + Although the day was wellnigh done, + And the low angle of the sun + Along the naked hillside cast + Our shadows as of giants vast. + We reached, at length, the topmost swell, + Whence, either way, the green turf fell + In terraces of nature down + To fruit-hung orchards, and the town + With white, pretenceless houses, tall + Church-steeples, and, o'ershadowing all, + Huge mills whose windows had the look + Of eager eyes that ill could brook + The Sabbath rest. We traced the track + Of the sea-seeking river back, + Glistening for miles above its mouth, + Through the long valley to the south, + And, looking eastward, cool to view, + Stretched the illimitable blue + Of ocean, from its curved coast-line; + Sombred and still, the warm sunshine + Filled with pale gold-dust all the reach + Of slumberous woods from hill to beach,-- + Slanted on walls of thronged retreats + From city toil and dusty streets, + On grassy bluff, and dune of sand, + And rocky islands miles from land; + Touched the far-glancing sails, and showed + White lines of foam where long waves flowed + Dumb in the distance. In the north, + Dim through their misty hair, looked forth + The space-dwarfed mountains to the sea, + From mystery to mystery! + + So, sitting on that green hill-slope, + We talked of human life, its hope + And fear, and unsolved doubts, and what + It might have been, and yet was not. + And, when at last the evening air + Grew sweeter for the bells of prayer + Ringing in steeples far below, + We watched the people churchward go, + Each to his place, as if thereon + The true shekinah only shone; + And my friend queried how it came + To pass that they who owned the same + Great Master still could not agree + To worship Him in company. + Then, broadening in his thought, he ran + Over the whole vast field of man,-- + The varying forms of faith and creed + That somehow served the holders' need; + In which, unquestioned, undenied, + Uncounted millions lived and died; + The bibles of the ancient folk, + Through which the heart of nations spoke; + The old moralities which lent + To home its sweetness and content, + And rendered possible to bear + The life of peoples everywhere + And asked if we, who boast of light, + Claim not a too exclusive right + To truths which must for all be meant, + Like rain and sunshine freely sent. + In bondage to the letter still, + We give it power to cramp and kill,-- + To tax God's fulness with a scheme + Narrower than Peter's house-top dream, + His wisdom and his love with plans + Poor and inadequate as man's. + It must be that He witnesses + Somehow to all men that He is + That something of His saving grace + Reaches the lowest of the race, + Who, through strange creed and rite, may draw + The hints of a diviner law. + We walk in clearer light;--but then, + Is He not God?--are they not men? + Are His responsibilities + For us alone and not for these? + + And I made answer: "Truth is one; + And, in all lands beneath the sun, + Whoso hath eyes to see may see + The tokens of its unity. + No scroll of creed its fulness wraps, + We trace it not by school-boy maps, + Free as the sun and air it is + Of latitudes and boundaries. + In Vedic verse, in dull Koran, + Are messages of good to man; + The angels to our Aryan sires + Talked by the earliest household fires; + The prophets of the elder day, + The slant-eyed sages of Cathay, + Read not the riddle all amiss + Of higher life evolved from this. + + "Nor doth it lessen what He taught, + Or make the gospel Jesus brought + Less precious, that His lips retold + Some portion of that truth of old; + Denying not the proven seers, + The tested wisdom of the years; + Confirming with his own impress + The common law of righteousness. + We search the world for truth; we cull + The good, the pure, the beautiful, + From graven stone and written scroll, + From all old flower-fields of the soul; + And, weary seekers of the best, + We come back laden from our quest, + To find that all the sages said + Is in the Book our mothers read, + And all our treasure of old thought + In His harmonious fulness wrought + Who gathers in one sheaf complete + The scattered blades of God's sown wheat, + The common growth that maketh good + His all-embracing Fatherhood. + + "Wherever through the ages rise + The altars of self-sacrifice, + Where love its arms has opened wide, + Or man for man has calmly died, + I see the same white wings outspread + That hovered o'er the Master's head! + Up from undated time they come, + The martyr souls of heathendom, + And to His cross and passion bring + Their fellowship of suffering. + I trace His presence in the blind + Pathetic gropings of my kind,-- + In prayers from sin and sorrow wrung, + In cradle-hymns of life they sung, + Each, in its measure, but a part + Of the unmeasured Over-Heart; + And with a stronger faith confess + The greater that it owns the less. + Good cause it is for thankfulness + That the world-blessing of His life + With the long past is not at strife; + That the great marvel of His death + To the one order witnesseth, + No doubt of changeless goodness wakes, + No link of cause and sequence breaks, + But, one with nature, rooted is + In the eternal verities; + Whereby, while differing in degree + As finite from infinity, + The pain and loss for others borne, + Love's crown of suffering meekly worn, + The life man giveth for his friend + Become vicarious in the end; + Their healing place in nature take, + And make life sweeter for their sake. + + "So welcome I from every source + The tokens of that primal Force, + Older than heaven itself, yet new + As the young heart it reaches to, + Beneath whose steady impulse rolls + The tidal wave of human souls; + Guide, comforter, and inward word, + The eternal spirit of the Lord + Nor fear I aught that science brings + From searching through material things; + Content to let its glasses prove, + Not by the letter's oldness move, + The myriad worlds on worlds that course + The spaces of the universe; + Since everywhere the Spirit walks + The garden of the heart, and talks + With man, as under Eden's trees, + In all his varied languages. + Why mourn above some hopeless flaw + In the stone tables of the law, + When scripture every day afresh + Is traced on tablets of the flesh? + By inward sense, by outward signs, + God's presence still the heart divines; + Through deepest joy of Him we learn, + In sorest grief to Him we turn, + And reason stoops its pride to share + The child-like instinct of a prayer." + + And then, as is my wont, I told + A story of the days of old, + Not found in printed books,--in sooth, + A fancy, with slight hint of truth, + Showing how differing faiths agree + In one sweet law of charity. + Meanwhile the sky had golden grown, + Our faces in its glory shone; + But shadows down the valley swept, + And gray below the ocean slept, + As time and space I wandered o'er + To tread the Mogul's marble floor, + And see a fairer sunset fall + On Jumna's wave and Agra's wall. + + The good Shah Akbar (peace be his alway!) + Came forth from the Divan at close of day + Bowed with the burden of his many cares, + Worn with the hearing of unnumbered prayers,-- + Wild cries for justice, the importunate + Appeals of greed and jealousy and hate, + And all the strife of sect and creed and rite, + Santon and Gouroo waging holy fight + For the wise monarch, claiming not to be + Allah's avenger, left his people free, + With a faint hope, his Book scarce justified, + That all the paths of faith, though severed wide, + O'er which the feet of prayerful reverence passed, + Met at the gate of Paradise at last. + + He sought an alcove of his cool hareem, + Where, far beneath, he heard the Jumna's stream + Lapse soft and low along his palace wall, + And all about the cool sound of the fall + Of fountains, and of water circling free + Through marble ducts along the balcony; + The voice of women in the distance sweet, + And, sweeter still, of one who, at his feet, + Soothed his tired ear with songs of a far land + Where Tagus shatters on the salt sea-sand + The mirror of its cork-grown hills of drouth + And vales of vine, at Lisbon's harbor-mouth. + + The date-palms rustled not; the peepul laid + Its topmost boughs against the balustrade, + Motionless as the mimic leaves and vines + That, light and graceful as the shawl-designs + Of Delhi or Umritsir, twined in stone; + And the tired monarch, who aside had thrown + The day's hard burden, sat from care apart, + And let the quiet steal into his heart + From the still hour. Below him Agra slept, + By the long light of sunset overswept + The river flowing through a level land, + By mango-groves and banks of yellow sand, + Skirted with lime and orange, gay kiosks, + Fountains at play, tall minarets of mosques, + Fair pleasure-gardens, with their flowering trees + Relieved against the mournful cypresses; + And, air-poised lightly as the blown sea-foam, + The marble wonder of some holy dome + Hung a white moonrise over the still wood, + Glassing its beauty in a stiller flood. + + Silent the monarch gazed, until the night + Swift-falling hid the city from his sight; + Then to the woman at his feet he said + "Tell me, O Miriam, something thou hast read + In childhood of the Master of thy faith, + Whom Islam also owns. Our Prophet saith + 'He was a true apostle, yea, a Word + And Spirit sent before me from the Lord.' + Thus the Book witnesseth; and well I know + By what thou art, O dearest, it is so. + As the lute's tone the maker's hand betrays, + The sweet disciple speaks her Master's praise." + + Then Miriam, glad of heart, (for in some sort + She cherished in the Moslem's liberal court + The sweet traditions of a Christian child; + And, through her life of sense, the undefiled + And chaste ideal of the sinless One + Gazed on her with an eye she might not shun,-- + The sad, reproachful look of pity, born + Of love that hath no part in wrath or scorn,) + Began, with low voice and moist eyes, to tell + Of the all-loving Christ, and what befell + When the fierce zealots, thirsting for her blood, + Dragged to his feet a shame of womanhood. + How, when his searching answer pierced within + Each heart, and touched the secret of its sin, + And her accusers fled his face before, + He bade the poor one go and sin no more. + And Akbar said, after a moment's thought, + "Wise is the lesson by thy prophet taught; + Woe unto him who judges and forgets + What hidden evil his own heart besets! + Something of this large charity I find + In all the sects that sever human kind; + I would to Allah that their lives agreed + More nearly with the lesson of their creed! + Those yellow Lamas who at Meerut pray + By wind and water power, and love to say + 'He who forgiveth not shall, unforgiven, + Fail of the rest of Buddha,' and who even + Spare the black gnat that stings them, vex my ears + With the poor hates and jealousies and fears + Nursed in their human hives. That lean, fierce priest + Of thy own people, (be his heart increased + By Allah's love!) his black robes smelling yet + Of Goa's roasted Jews, have I not met + Meek-faced, barefooted, crying in the street + The saying of his prophet true and sweet,-- + 'He who is merciful shall mercy meet!'" + + But, next day, so it chanced, as night began + To fall, a murmur through the hareem ran + That one, recalling in her dusky face + The full-lipped, mild-eyed beauty of a race + Known as the blameless Ethiops of Greek song, + Plotting to do her royal master wrong, + Watching, reproachful of the lingering light, + The evening shadows deepen for her flight, + Love-guided, to her home in a far land, + Now waited death at the great Shah's command. + Shapely as that dark princess for whose smile + A world was bartered, daughter of the Nile + Herself, and veiling in her large, soft eyes + The passion and the languor of her skies, + The Abyssinian knelt low at the feet + Of her stern lord: "O king, if it be meet, + And for thy honor's sake," she said, "that I, + Who am the humblest of thy slaves, should die, + I will not tax thy mercy to forgive. + Easier it is to die than to outlive + All that life gave me,--him whose wrong of thee + Was but the outcome of his love for me, + Cherished from childhood, when, beneath the shade + Of templed Axum, side by side we played. + Stolen from his arms, my lover followed me + Through weary seasons over land and sea; + And two days since, sitting disconsolate + Within the shadow of the hareem gate, + Suddenly, as if dropping from the sky, + Down from the lattice of the balcony + Fell the sweet song by Tigre's cowherds sung + In the old music of his native tongue. + He knew my voice, for love is quick of ear, + Answering in song. + + This night he waited near + To fly with me. The fault was mine alone + He knew thee not, he did but seek his own; + Who, in the very shadow of thy throne, + Sharing thy bounty, knowing all thou art, + Greatest and best of men, and in her heart + Grateful to tears for favor undeserved, + Turned ever homeward, nor one moment swerved + From her young love. He looked into my eyes, + He heard my voice, and could not otherwise + Than he hath done; yet, save one wild embrace + When first we stood together face to face, + And all that fate had done since last we met + Seemed but a dream that left us children yet, + He hath not wronged thee nor thy royal bed; + Spare him, O king! and slay me in his stead!" + + But over Akbar's brows the frown hung black, + And, turning to the eunuch at his back, + "Take them," he said, "and let the Jumna's waves + Hide both my shame and these accursed slaves!" + His loathly length the unsexed bondman bowed + "On my head be it!" + + Straightway from a cloud + Of dainty shawls and veils of woven mist + The Christian Miriam rose, and, stooping, kissed + The monarch's hand. Loose down her shoulders bare + Swept all the rippled darkness of her hair, + Veiling the bosom that, with high, quick swell + Of fear and pity, through it rose and fell. + + "Alas!" she cried, "hast thou forgotten quite + The words of Him we spake of yesternight? + Or thy own prophet's, 'Whoso doth endure + And pardon, of eternal life is sure'? + O great and good! be thy revenge alone + Felt in thy mercy to the erring shown; + Let thwarted love and youth their pardon plead, + Who sinned but in intent, and not in deed!" + + One moment the strong frame of Akbar shook + With the great storm of passion. Then his look + Softened to her uplifted face, that still + Pleaded more strongly than all words, until + Its pride and anger seemed like overblown, + Spent clouds of thunder left to tell alone + Of strife and overcoming. With bowed head, + And smiting on his bosom: "God," he said, + "Alone is great, and let His holy name + Be honored, even to His servant's shame! + Well spake thy prophet, Miriam,--he alone + Who hath not sinned is meet to cast a stone + At such as these, who here their doom await, + Held like myself in the strong grasp of fate. + They sinned through love, as I through love forgive; + Take them beyond my realm, but let them live!" + + And, like a chorus to the words of grace, + The ancient Fakir, sitting in his place, + Motionless as an idol and as grim, + In the pavilion Akbar built for him + Under the court-yard trees, (for he was wise, + Knew Menu's laws, and through his close-shut eyes + Saw things far off, and as an open book + Into the thoughts of other men could look,) + Began, half chant, half howling, to rehearse + The fragment of a holy Vedic verse; + And thus it ran: "He who all things forgives + Conquers himself and all things else, and lives + Above the reach of wrong or hate or fear, + Calm as the gods, to whom he is most dear." + + Two leagues from Agra still the traveller sees + The tomb of Akbar through its cypress-trees; + And, near at hand, the marble walls that hide + The Christian Begum sleeping at his side. + And o'er her vault of burial (who shall tell + If it be chance alone or miracle?) + The Mission press with tireless hand unrolls + The words of Jesus on its lettered scrolls,-- + Tells, in all tongues, the tale of mercy o'er, + And bids the guilty, "Go and sin no more!" + + . . . . . . . . . . . + + It now was dew-fall; very still + The night lay on the lonely hill, + Down which our homeward steps we bent, + And, silent, through great silence went, + Save that the tireless crickets played + Their long, monotonous serenade. + A young moon, at its narrowest, + Curved sharp against the darkening west; + And, momently, the beacon's star, + Slow wheeling o'er its rock afar, + From out the level darkness shot + One instant and again was not. + And then my friend spake quietly + The thought of both: "Yon crescent see! + Like Islam's symbol-moon it gives + Hints of the light whereby it lives + Somewhat of goodness, something true + From sun and spirit shining through + All faiths, all worlds, as through the dark + Of ocean shines the lighthouse spark, + Attests the presence everywhere + Of love and providential care. + The faith the old Norse heart confessed + In one dear name,--the hopefulest + And tenderest heard from mortal lips + In pangs of birth or death, from ships + Ice-bitten in the winter sea, + Or lisped beside a mother's knee,-- + The wiser world hath not outgrown, + And the All-Father is our own!" + + + + +NAUHAUGHT, THE DEACON. + + NAUHAUGHT, the Indian deacon, who of old + Dwelt, poor but blameless, where his narrowing Cape + Stretches its shrunk arm out to all the winds + And the relentless smiting of the waves, + Awoke one morning from a pleasant dream + Of a good angel dropping in his hand + A fair, broad gold-piece, in the name of God. + + He rose and went forth with the early day + Far inland, where the voices of the waves + Mellowed and Mingled with the whispering leaves, + As, through the tangle of the low, thick woods, + He searched his traps. Therein nor beast nor bird + He found; though meanwhile in the reedy pools + The otter plashed, and underneath the pines + The partridge drummed: and as his thoughts went back + To the sick wife and little child at home, + What marvel that the poor man felt his faith + Too weak to bear its burden,--like a rope + That, strand by strand uncoiling, breaks above + The hand that grasps it. "Even now, O Lord! + Send me," he prayed, "the angel of my dream! + Nauhaught is very poor; he cannot wait." + + Even as he spake he heard at his bare feet + A low, metallic clink, and, looking down, + He saw a dainty purse with disks of gold + Crowding its silken net. Awhile he held + The treasure up before his eyes, alone + With his great need, feeling the wondrous coins + Slide through his eager fingers, one by one. + So then the dream was true. The angel brought + One broad piece only; should he take all these? + Who would be wiser, in the blind, dumb woods? + The loser, doubtless rich, would scarcely miss + This dropped crumb from a table always full. + Still, while he mused, he seemed to hear the cry + Of a starved child; the sick face of his wife + Tempted him. Heart and flesh in fierce revolt + Urged the wild license of his savage youth + Against his later scruples. Bitter toil, + Prayer, fasting, dread of blame, and pitiless eyes + To watch his halting,--had he lost for these + The freedom of the woods;--the hunting-grounds + Of happy spirits for a walled-in heaven + Of everlasting psalms? One healed the sick + Very far off thousands of moons ago + Had he not prayed him night and day to come + And cure his bed-bound wife? Was there a hell? + Were all his fathers' people writhing there-- + Like the poor shell-fish set to boil alive-- + Forever, dying never? If he kept + This gold, so needed, would the dreadful God + Torment him like a Mohawk's captive stuck + With slow-consuming splinters? Would the saints + And the white angels dance and laugh to see him + Burn like a pitch-pine torch? His Christian garb + Seemed falling from him; with the fear and shame + Of Adam naked at the cool of day, + He gazed around. A black snake lay in coil + On the hot sand, a crow with sidelong eye + Watched from a dead bough. All his Indian lore + Of evil blending with a convert's faith + In the supernal terrors of the Book, + He saw the Tempter in the coiling snake + And ominous, black-winged bird; and all the while + The low rebuking of the distant waves + Stole in upon him like the voice of God + Among the trees of Eden. Girding up + His soul's loins with a resolute hand, he thrust + The base thought from him: "Nauhaught, be a man + Starve, if need be; but, while you live, look out + From honest eyes on all men, unashamed. + God help me! I am deacon of the church, + A baptized, praying Indian! Should I do + This secret meanness, even the barken knots + Of the old trees would turn to eyes to see it, + The birds would tell of it, and all the leaves + Whisper above me: 'Nauhaught is a thief!' + The sun would know it, and the stars that hide + Behind his light would watch me, and at night + Follow me with their sharp, accusing eyes. + Yea, thou, God, seest me!" Then Nauhaught drew + Closer his belt of leather, dulling thus + The pain of hunger, and walked bravely back + To the brown fishing-hamlet by the sea; + And, pausing at the inn-door, cheerily asked + "Who hath lost aught to-day?" + "I," said a voice; + "Ten golden pieces, in a silken purse, + My daughter's handiwork." He looked, and to + One stood before him in a coat of frieze, + And the glazed hat of a seafaring man, + Shrewd-faced, broad-shouldered, with no trace of wings. + Marvelling, he dropped within the stranger's hand + The silken web, and turned to go his way. + But the man said: "A tithe at least is yours; + Take it in God's name as an honest man." + And as the deacon's dusky fingers closed + Over the golden gift, "Yea, in God's name + I take it, with a poor man's thanks," he said. + So down the street that, like a river of sand, + Ran, white in sunshine, to the summer sea, + He sought his home singing and praising God; + And when his neighbors in their careless way + Spoke of the owner of the silken purse-- + A Wellfleet skipper, known in every port + That the Cape opens in its sandy wall-- + He answered, with a wise smile, to himself + "I saw the angel where they see a man." + 1870. + + + + +THE SISTERS. + + ANNIE and Rhoda, sisters twain, + Woke in the night to the sound of rain, + + The rush of wind, the ramp and roar + Of great waves climbing a rocky shore. + + Annie rose up in her bed-gown white, + And looked out into the storm and night. + + "Hush, and hearken!" she cried in fear, + "Hearest thou nothing, sister dear?" + + "I hear the sea, and the plash of rain, + And roar of the northeast hurricane. + + "Get thee back to the bed so warm, + No good comes of watching a storm. + + "What is it to thee, I fain would know, + That waves are roaring and wild winds blow? + + "No lover of thine's afloat to miss + The harbor-lights on a night like this." + + "But I heard a voice cry out my name, + Up from the sea on the wind it came. + + "Twice and thrice have I heard it call, + And the voice is the voice of Estwick Hall!" + + On her pillow the sister tossed her head. + "Hall of the Heron is safe," she said. + + "In the tautest schooner that ever swam + He rides at anchor in Anisquam. + + "And, if in peril from swamping sea + Or lee shore rocks, would he call on thee?" + + But the girl heard only the wind and tide, + And wringing her small white hands she cried, + + "O sister Rhoda, there's something wrong; + I hear it again, so loud and long. + + "'Annie! Annie!' I hear it call, + And the voice is the voice of Estwick Hall!" + + Up sprang the elder, with eyes aflame, + "Thou liest! He never would call thy name! + + "If he did, I would pray the wind and sea + To keep him forever from thee and me!" + + Then out of the sea blew a dreadful blast; + Like the cry of a dying man it passed. + + The young girl hushed on her lips a groan, + But through her tears a strange light shone,-- + + The solemn joy of her heart's release + To own and cherish its love in peace. + + "Dearest!" she whispered, under breath, + "Life was a lie, but true is death. + + "The love I hid from myself away + Shall crown me now in the light of day. + + "My ears shall never to wooer list, + Never by lover my lips be kissed. + + "Sacred to thee am I henceforth, + Thou in heaven and I on earth!" + + She came and stood by her sister's bed + "Hall of the Heron is dead!" she said. + + "The wind and the waves their work have done, + We shall see him no more beneath the sun. + + "Little will reek that heart of thine, + It loved him not with a love like mine. + + "I, for his sake, were he but here, + Could hem and 'broider thy bridal gear, + + "Though hands should tremble and eyes be wet, + And stitch for stitch in my heart be set. + + "But now my soul with his soul I wed; + Thine the living, and mine the dead!" + + 1871. + + + + +MARGUERITE. + +MASSACHUSETTS BAY, 1760. + +Upwards of one thousand of the Acadian peasants forcibly taken from +their homes on the Gaspereau and Basin of Minas were assigned to the +several towns of the Massachusetts colony, the children being bound by +the authorities to service or labor. + + THE robins sang in the orchard, the buds into + blossoms grew; + Little of human sorrow the buds and the robins + knew! + Sick, in an alien household, the poor French + neutral lay; + Into her lonesome garret fell the light of the April + day, + Through the dusty window, curtained by the spider's + warp and woof, + On the loose-laid floor of hemlock, on oaken ribs + of roof, + The bedquilt's faded patchwork, the teacups on the + stand, + The wheel with flaxen tangle, as it dropped from + her sick hand. + + What to her was the song of the robin, or warm + morning light, + As she lay in the trance of the dying, heedless of + sound or sight? + + Done was the work of her bands, she had eaten her + bitter bread; + The world of the alien people lay behind her dim + and dead. + + But her soul went back to its child-time; she saw + the sun o'erflow + With gold the Basin of Minas, and set over + Gaspereau; + + The low, bare flats at ebb-tide, the rush of the sea + at flood, + Through inlet and creek and river, from dike to + upland wood; + + The gulls in the red of morning, the fish-hawk's + rise and fall, + The drift of the fog in moonshine, over the dark + coast-wall. + + She saw the face of her mother, she heard the song + she sang; + And far off, faintly, slowly, the bell for vespers + rang. + + By her bed the hard-faced mistress sat, smoothing + the wrinkled sheet, + Peering into the face, so helpless, and feeling the + ice-cold feet. + + With a vague remorse atoning for her greed and + long abuse, + By care no longer heeded and pity too late for use. + + Up the stairs of the garret softly the son of the + mistress stepped, + Leaned over the head-board, covering his face with + his hands, and wept. + + Outspake the mother, who watched him sharply, + with brow a-frown + "What! love you the Papist, the beggar, the + charge of the town?" + + Be she Papist or beggar who lies here, I know + and God knows + I love her, and fain would go with her wherever + she goes! + + "O mother! that sweet face came pleading, for + love so athirst. + You saw but the town-charge; I knew her God's + angel at first." + + Shaking her gray head, the mistress hushed down + a bitter cry; + And awed by the silence and shadow of death + drawing nigh, + + She murmured a psalm of the Bible; but closer + the young girl pressed, + With the last of her life in her fingers, the cross + to her breast. + + "My son, come away," cried the mother, her voice + cruel grown. + "She is joined to her idols, like Ephraim; let her + alone!" + + But he knelt with his hand on her forehead, his + lips to her ear, + And he called back the soul that was passing + "Marguerite, do you hear?" + + She paused on the threshold of Heaven; love, pity, + surprise, + Wistful, tender, lit up for an instant the cloud of + her eyes. + + With his heart on his lips he kissed her, but never + her cheek grew red, + And the words the living long for he spake in the + ear of the dead. + + And the robins sang in the orchard, where buds to + blossoms grew; + Of the folded hands and the still face never the + robins knew! + + 1871. + + + + +THE ROBIN. + + MY old Welsh neighbor over the way + Crept slowly out in the sun of spring, + Pushed from her ears the locks of gray, + And listened to hear the robin sing. + + Her grandson, playing at marbles, stopped, + And, cruel in sport as boys will be, + Tossed a stone at the bird, who hopped + From bough to bough in the apple-tree. + + "Nay!" said the grandmother; "have you not heard, + My poor, bad boy! of the fiery pit, + And how, drop by drop, this merciful bird + Carries the water that quenches it? + + "He brings cool dew in his little bill, + And lets it fall on the souls of sin + You can see the mark on his red breast still + Of fires that scorch as he drops it in. + + "My poor Bron rhuddyn! my breast-burned bird, + Singing so sweetly from limb to limb, + Very dear to the heart of Our Lord + Is he who pities the lost like Him!" + + "Amen!" I said to the beautiful myth; + "Sing, bird of God, in my heart as well: + Each good thought is a drop wherewith + To cool and lessen the fires of hell. + + "Prayers of love like rain-drops fall, + Tears of pity are cooling dew, + And dear to the heart of Our Lord are all + Who suffer like Him in the good they do!" + + 1871. + + + + +THE PENNSYLVANIA PILGRIM. + +INTRODUCTORY NOTE. + +THE beginning of German emigration to America may be traced to the +personal influence of William Penn, who in 1677 visited the Continent, +and made the acquaintance of an intelligent and highly cultivated circle +of Pietists, or Mystics, who, reviving in the seventeenth century the +spiritual faith and worship of Tauler and the "Friends of God" in the +fourteenth, gathered about the pastor Spener, and the young and +beautiful Eleonora Johanna Von Merlau. In this circle originated the +Frankfort Land Company, which bought of William Penn, the Governor of +Pennsylvania, a tract of land near the new city of Philadelphia. The +company's agent in the New World was a rising young lawyer, Francis +Daniel Pastorius, son of Judge Pastorius, of Windsheim, who, at the age +of seventeen, entered the University of Altorf. He studied law at, +Strasburg, Basle, and Jena, and at Ratisbon, the seat of the Imperial +Government, obtained a practical knowledge of international polity. +Successful in all his examinations and disputations, he received the +degree of Doctor of Law at Nuremberg in 1676. In 1679 he was a +law-lecturer at Frankfort, where he became deeply interested in the +teachings of Dr. Spener. In 1680-81 he travelled in France, England, +Ireland, and Italy with his friend Herr Von Rodeck. "I was," he says, +"glad to enjoy again the company of my Christian friends, rather than be +with Von Rodeck feasting and dancing." In 1683, in company with a small +number of German Friends, he emigrated to America, settling upon the +Frankfort Company's tract between the Schuylkill and the Delaware +rivers. The township was divided into four hamlets, namely, Germantown, +Krisheim, Crefield, and Sommerhausen. Soon after his arrival he united +himself with the Society of Friends, and became one of its most able and +devoted members, as well as the recognized head and lawgiver of the +settlement. He married, two years after his arrival, Anneke (Anna), +daughter of Dr. Klosterman, of Muhlheim. In the year 1688 he drew up a +memorial against slaveholding, which was adopted by the Germantown +Friends and sent up to the Monthly Meeting, and thence to the Yearly +Meeting at Philadelphia. It is noteworthy as the first protest made by +a religious body against Negro Slavery. The original document was +discovered in 1844 by the Philadelphia antiquarian, Nathan Kite, and +published in The Friend (Vol. XVIII. No. 16). It is a bold and direct +appeal to the best instincts of the heart. "Have not," he asks, "these +negroes as much right to fight for their freedom as you have to keep +them slaves?" Under the wise direction of Pastorius, the German-town +settlement grew and prospered. The inhabitants planted orchards and +vineyards, and surrounded themselves with souvenirs of their old home. +A large number of them were linen-weavers, as well as small farmers. +The Quakers were the principal sect, but men of all religions were +tolerated, and lived together in harmony. In 1692 Richard Frame +published, in what he called verse, a Description of Pennsylvania, in +which he alludes to the settlement:-- + + "The German town of which I spoke before, + Which is at least in length one mile or more, + Where lives High German people and Low Dutch, + Whose trade in weaving linen cloth is much, + --There grows the flax, as also you may know + That from the same they do divide the tow. + Their trade suits well their habitation, + We find convenience for their occupation." + +Pastorius seems to have been on intimate terms with William Penn, Thomas +Lloyd, Chief Justice Logan, Thomas Story, and other leading men in the +Province belonging to his own religious society, as also with Kelpius, +the learned Mystic of the Wissahickon, with the pastor of the Swedes' +church, and the leaders of the Mennonites. He wrote a description of +Pennsylvania, which was published at Frankfort and Leipsic in 1700 and +1701. His Lives of the Saints, etc., written in German and dedicated to +Professor Schurmberg, his old teacher, was published in 1690. He left +behind him many unpublished manuscripts covering a very wide range of +subjects, most of which are now lost. One huge manuscript folio, +entitled Hive Beestock, Melliotropheum Alucar, or Rusca Apium, still +remains, containing one thousand pages with about one hundred lines to a +page. It is a medley of knowledge and fancy, history, philosophy, and +poetry, written in seven languages. A large portion of his poetry is +devoted to the pleasures of gardening, the description of flowers, and +the care of bees. The following specimen of his punning Latin is +addressed to an orchard-pilferer:-- + + "Quisquis in haec furtim reptas viridaria nostra + Tangere fallaci poma caveto mane, + Si non obsequeris faxit Deus omne quod opto, + Cum malis nostris ut mala cuncta feras." + +Professor Oswald Seidensticker, to whose papers in Der Deutsche Pioneer +and that able periodical the Penn Monthly, of Philadelphia, I am +indebted for many of the foregoing facts in regard to the German +pilgrims of the New World, thus closes his notice of Pastorius:-- +"No tombstone, not even a record of burial, indicates where his remains +have found their last resting-place, and the pardonable desire to +associate the homage due to this distinguished man with some visible +memento can not be gratified. There is no reason to suppose that he was +interred in any other place than the Friends' old burying-ground in +Germantown, though the fact is not attested by any definite source of +information. After all, this obliteration of the last trace of his +earthly existence is but typical of what has overtaken the times which +he represents; that Germantown which he founded, which saw him live and +move, is at present but a quaint idyl of the past, almost a myth, barely +remembered and little cared for by the keener race that has succeeded. +The Pilgrims of Plymouth have not lacked historian and poet. Justice has +been done to their faith, courage, and self-sacrifice, and to the mighty +influence of their endeavors to establish righteousness on the earth. +The Quaker pilgrims of Pennsylvania, seeking the same object by +different means, have not been equally fortunate. The power of their +testimony for truth and holiness, peace and freedom, enforced only by +what Milton calls "the unresistible might of meekness," has been felt +through two centuries in the amelioration of penal severities, the +abolition of slavery, the reform of the erring, the relief of the poor +and suffering,--felt, in brief, in every step of human progress. But of +the men themselves, with the single exception of William Penn, scarcely +anything is known. Contrasted, from the outset, with the stern, +aggressive Puritans of New England, they have come to be regarded as +"a feeble folk," with a personality as doubtful as their unrecorded +graves. They were not soldiers, like Miles Standish; they had no figure +so picturesque as Vane, no leader so rashly brave and haughty as +Endicott. No Cotton Mather wrote their Magnalia; they had no awful drama +of supernaturalism in which Satan and his angels were actors; and the +only witch mentioned in their simple annals was a poor old Swedish +woman, who, on complaint of her countrywomen, was tried and acquitted +of everything but imbecility and folly. Nothing but common-place offices +of civility came to pass between them and the Indians; indeed, their +enemies taunted them with the fact that the savages did not regard them +as Christians, but just such men as themselves. Yet it must be apparent +to every careful observer of the progress of American civilization that +its two principal currents had their sources in the entirely opposite +directions of the Puritan and Quaker colonies. To use the words of a +late writer: (1) "The historical forces, with which no others may be +compared in their influence on the people, have been those of the +Puritan and the Quaker. The strength of the one was in the confession of +an invisible Presence, a righteous, eternal Will, which would establish +righteousness on earth; and thence arose the conviction of a direct +personal responsibility, which could be tempted by no external splendor +and could be shaken by no internal agitation, and could not be evaded or +transferred. The strength of the other was the witness in the human +spirit to an eternal Word, an Inner Voice which spoke to each alone, +while yet it spoke to every man; a Light which each was to follow, and +which yet was the light of the world; and all other voices were silent +before this, and the solitary path whither it led was more sacred than +the worn ways of cathedral-aisles." It will be sufficiently apparent to +the reader that, in the poem which follows, I have attempted nothing +beyond a study of the life and times of the Pennsylvania colonist,--a +simple picture of a noteworthy man and his locality. The colors of my +sketch are all very sober, toned down to the quiet and dreamy atmosphere +through which its subject is visible. Whether, in the glare and tumult +of the present time, such a picture will find favor may well be +questioned. I only know that it has beguiled for me some hours of +weariness, and that, whatever may be its measure of public appreciation, +it has been to me its own reward. + J. G. W. +AMESBURY, 5th mo., 1872. + + + HAIL to posterity! + Hail, future men of Germanopolis! + Let the young generations yet to be + Look kindly upon this. + Think how your fathers left their native land,-- + Dear German-land! O sacred hearths and homes!-- + + And, where the wild beast roams, + In patience planned + New forest-homes beyond the mighty sea, + There undisturbed and free + To live as brothers of one family. + What pains and cares befell, + What trials and what fears, + Remember, and wherein we have done well + Follow our footsteps, men of coming years! + Where we have failed to do + Aright, or wisely live, + Be warned by us, the better way pursue, + And, knowing we were human, even as you, + Pity us and forgive! + Farewell, Posterity! + Farewell, dear Germany + Forevermore farewell! + + (From the Latin of Francis DANIEL PASTORIUS in + the Germantown Records. 1688.) + + + PRELUDE. + + I SING the Pilgrim of a softer clime + And milder speech than those brave men's who brought + To the ice and iron of our winter time + A will as firm, a creed as stern, and wrought + With one mailed hand, and with the other fought. + Simply, as fits my theme, in homely rhyme + I sing the blue-eyed German Spener taught, + Through whose veiled, mystic faith the Inward Light, + Steady and still, an easy brightness, shone, + Transfiguring all things in its radiance white. + The garland which his meekness never sought + I bring him; over fields of harvest sown + With seeds of blessing, now to ripeness grown, + I bid the sower pass before the reapers' sight. + + . . . . . . . . . . + + Never in tenderer quiet lapsed the day + From Pennsylvania's vales of spring away, + Where, forest-walled, the scattered hamlets lay + + Along the wedded rivers. One long bar + Of purple cloud, on which the evening star + Shone like a jewel on a scimitar, + + Held the sky's golden gateway. Through the deep + Hush of the woods a murmur seemed to creep, + The Schuylkill whispering in a voice of sleep. + + All else was still. The oxen from their ploughs + Rested at last, and from their long day's browse + Came the dun files of Krisheim's home-bound cows. + + And the young city, round whose virgin zone + The rivers like two mighty arms were thrown, + Marked by the smoke of evening fires alone, + + Lay in the distance, lovely even then + With its fair women and its stately men + Gracing the forest court of William Penn, + + Urban yet sylvan; in its rough-hewn frames + Of oak and pine the dryads held their claims, + And lent its streets their pleasant woodland names. + + Anna Pastorius down the leafy lane + Looked city-ward, then stooped to prune again + Her vines and simples, with a sigh of pain. + + For fast the streaks of ruddy sunset paled + In the oak clearing, and, as daylight failed, + Slow, overhead, the dusky night-birds sailed. + + Again she looked: between green walls of shade, + With low-bent head as if with sorrow weighed, + Daniel Pastorius slowly came and said, + + "God's peace be with thee, Anna!" Then he stood + Silent before her, wrestling with the mood + Of one who sees the evil and not good. + + "What is it, my Pastorius?" As she spoke, + A slow, faint smile across his features broke, + Sadder than tears. "Dear heart," he said, "our folk + + "Are even as others. Yea, our goodliest Friends + Are frail; our elders have their selfish ends, + And few dare trust the Lord to make amends + + "For duty's loss. So even our feeble word + For the dumb slaves the startled meeting heard + As if a stone its quiet waters stirred; + + "And, as the clerk ceased reading, there began + A ripple of dissent which downward ran + In widening circles, as from man to man. + + "Somewhat was said of running before sent, + Of tender fear that some their guide outwent, + Troublers of Israel. I was scarce intent + + "On hearing, for behind the reverend row + Of gallery Friends, in dumb and piteous show, + I saw, methought, dark faces full of woe. + + "And, in the spirit, I was taken where + They toiled and suffered; I was made aware + Of shame and wrath and anguish and despair! + + "And while the meeting smothered our poor plea + With cautious phrase, a Voice there seemed to be, + As ye have done to these ye do to me!' + + "So it all passed; and the old tithe went on + Of anise, mint, and cumin, till the sun + Set, leaving still the weightier work undone. + + "Help, for the good man faileth! Who is strong, + If these be weak? Who shall rebuke the wrong, + If these consent? How long, O Lord! how long!" + + He ceased; and, bound in spirit with the bound, + With folded arms, and eyes that sought the ground, + Walked musingly his little garden round. + + About him, beaded with the falling dew, + Rare plants of power and herbs of healing grew, + Such as Van Helmont and Agrippa knew. + + For, by the lore of Gorlitz' gentle sage, + With the mild mystics of his dreamy age + He read the herbal signs of nature's page, + + As once he heard in sweet Von Merlau's' bowers + Fair as herself, in boyhood's happy hours, + The pious Spener read his creed in flowers. + + "The dear Lord give us patience!" said his wife, + Touching with finger-tip an aloe, rife + With leaves sharp-pointed like an Aztec knife + + Or Carib spear, a gift to William Penn + From the rare gardens of John Evelyn, + Brought from the Spanish Main by merchantmen. + + "See this strange plant its steady purpose hold, + And, year by year, its patient leaves unfold, + Till the young eyes that watched it first are old. + + "But some time, thou hast told me, there shall come + A sudden beauty, brightness, and perfume, + The century-moulded bud shall burst in bloom. + + "So may the seed which hath been sown to-day + Grow with the years, and, after long delay, + Break into bloom, and God's eternal Yea! + + "Answer at last the patient prayers of them + Who now, by faith alone, behold its stem + Crowned with the flowers of Freedom's diadem. + + "Meanwhile, to feel and suffer, work and wait, + Remains for us. The wrong indeed is great, + But love and patience conquer soon or late." + + "Well hast thou said, my Anna!" Tenderer + Than youth's caress upon the head of her + Pastorius laid his hand. "Shall we demur + + "Because the vision tarrieth? In an hour + We dream not of, the slow-grown bud may flower, + And what was sown in weakness rise in power!" + + Then through the vine-draped door whose legend read, + "Procul este profani!" Anna led + To where their child upon his little bed + + Looked up and smiled. "Dear heart," she said, "if we + Must bearers of a heavy burden be, + Our boy, God willing, yet the day shall see + + "When from the gallery to the farthest seat, + Slave and slave-owner shall no longer meet, + But all sit equal at the Master's feet." + + On the stone hearth the blazing walnut block + Set the low walls a-glimmer, showed the cock + Rebuking Peter on the Van Wyck clock, + + Shone on old tomes of law and physic, side + By side with Fox and Belimen, played at hide + And seek with Anna, midst her household pride + + Of flaxen webs, and on the table, bare + Of costly cloth or silver cup, but where, + Tasting the fat shads of the Delaware, + + The courtly Penn had praised the goodwife's cheer, + And quoted Horace o'er her home brewed beer, + Till even grave Pastorius smiled to hear. + + In such a home, beside the Schuylkill's wave, + He dwelt in peace with God and man, and gave + Food to the poor and shelter to the slave. + + For all too soon the New World's scandal shamed + The righteous code by Penn and Sidney framed, + And men withheld the human rights they claimed. + + And slowly wealth and station sanction lent, + And hardened avarice, on its gains intent, + Stifled the inward whisper of dissent. + + Yet all the while the burden rested sore + On tender hearts. At last Pastorius bore + Their warning message to the Church's door + + In God's name; and the leaven of the word + Wrought ever after in the souls who heard, + And a dead conscience in its grave-clothes stirred + + To troubled life, and urged the vain excuse + Of Hebrew custom, patriarchal use, + Good in itself if evil in abuse. + + Gravely Pastorius listened, not the less + Discerning through the decent fig-leaf dress + Of the poor plea its shame of selfishness. + + One Scripture rule, at least, was unforgot; + He hid the outcast, and betrayed him not; + And, when his prey the human hunter sought, + + He scrupled not, while Anna's wise delay + And proffered cheer prolonged the master's stay, + To speed the black guest safely on his way. + + Yet, who shall guess his bitter grief who lends + His life to some great cause, and finds his friends + Shame or betray it for their private ends? + + How felt the Master when his chosen strove + In childish folly for their seats above; + And that fond mother, blinded by her love, + + Besought him that her sons, beside his throne, + Might sit on either hand? Amidst his own + A stranger oft, companionless and lone, + + God's priest and prophet stands. The martyr's pain + Is not alone from scourge and cell and chain; + Sharper the pang when, shouting in his train, + + His weak disciples by their lives deny + The loud hosannas of their daily cry, + And make their echo of his truth a lie. + + His forest home no hermit's cell he found, + Guests, motley-minded, drew his hearth around, + And held armed truce upon its neutral ground. + + There Indian chiefs with battle-bows unstrung, + Strong, hero-limbed, like those whom Homer sung, + Pastorius fancied, when the world was young, + + Came with their tawny women, lithe and tall, + Like bronzes in his friend Von Rodeck's hall, + Comely, if black, and not unpleasing all. + + There hungry folk in homespun drab and gray + Drew round his board on Monthly Meeting day, + Genial, half merry in their friendly way. + + Or, haply, pilgrims from the Fatherland, + Weak, timid, homesick, slow to understand + The New World's promise, sought his helping hand. + + Or painful Kelpius (13) from his hermit den + By Wissahickon, maddest of good men, + Dreamed o'er the Chiliast dreams of Petersen. + + Deep in the woods, where the small river slid + Snake-like in shade, the Helmstadt Mystic hid, + Weird as a wizard, over arts forbid, + + Reading the books of Daniel and of John, + And Behmen's Morning-Redness, through the Stone + Of Wisdom, vouchsafed to his eyes alone, + + Whereby he read what man ne'er read before, + And saw the visions man shall see no more, + Till the great angel, striding sea and shore, + + Shall bid all flesh await, on land or ships, + The warning trump of the Apocalypse, + Shattering the heavens before the dread eclipse. + + Or meek-eyed Mennonist his bearded chin + Leaned o'er the gate; or Ranter, pure within, + Aired his perfection in a world of sin. + + Or, talking of old home scenes, Op der Graaf + Teased the low back-log with his shodden staff, + Till the red embers broke into a laugh + + And dance of flame, as if they fain would cheer + The rugged face, half tender, half austere, + Touched with the pathos of a homesick tear! + + Or Sluyter, (14) saintly familist, whose word + As law the Brethren of the Manor heard, + Announced the speedy terrors of the Lord, + + And turned, like Lot at Sodom, from his race, + Above a wrecked world with complacent face + Riding secure upon his plank of grace! + + Haply, from Finland's birchen groves exiled, + Manly in thought, in simple ways a child, + His white hair floating round his visage mild, + + The Swedish pastor sought the Quaker's door, + Pleased from his neighbor's lips to hear once more + His long-disused and half-forgotten lore. + + For both could baffle Babel's lingual curse, + And speak in Bion's Doric, and rehearse + Cleanthes' hymn or Virgil's sounding verse. + + And oft Pastorius and the meek old man + Argued as Quaker and as Lutheran, + Ending in Christian love, as they began. + + With lettered Lloyd on pleasant morns he strayed + Where Sommerhausen over vales of shade + Looked miles away, by every flower delayed, + + Or song of bird, happy and free with one + Who loved, like him, to let his memory run + Over old fields of learning, and to sun + + Himself in Plato's wise philosophies, + And dream with Philo over mysteries + Whereof the dreamer never finds the keys; + + To touch all themes of thought, nor weakly stop + For doubt of truth, but let the buckets drop + Deep down and bring the hidden waters up (15) + + For there was freedom in that wakening time + Of tender souls; to differ was not crime; + The varying bells made up the perfect chime. + + On lips unlike was laid the altar's coal, + The white, clear light, tradition-colored, stole + Through the stained oriel of each human soul. + + Gathered from many sects, the Quaker brought + His old beliefs, adjusting to the thought + That moved his soul the creed his fathers taught. + + One faith alone, so broad that all mankind + Within themselves its secret witness find, + The soul's communion with the Eternal Mind, + + The Spirit's law, the Inward Rule and Guide, + Scholar and peasant, lord and serf, allied, + The polished Penn and Cromwell's Ironside. + + As still in Hemskerck's Quaker Meeting, (16) face + By face in Flemish detail, we may trace + How loose-mouthed boor and fine ancestral grace + + Sat in close contrast,--the clipt-headed churl, + Broad market-dame, and simple serving-girl + By skirt of silk and periwig in curl + + For soul touched soul; the spiritual treasure-trove + Made all men equal, none could rise above + Nor sink below that level of God's love. + + So, with his rustic neighbors sitting down, + The homespun frock beside the scholar's gown, + Pastorius to the manners of the town + + Added the freedom of the woods, and sought + The bookless wisdom by experience taught, + And learned to love his new-found home, while not + + Forgetful of the old; the seasons went + Their rounds, and somewhat to his spirit lent + Of their own calm and measureless content. + + Glad even to tears, he heard the robin sing + His song of welcome to the Western spring, + And bluebird borrowing from the sky his wing. + + And when the miracle of autumn came, + And all the woods with many-colored flame + Of splendor, making summer's greenness tame, + + Burned, unconsumed, a voice without a sound + Spake to him from each kindled bush around, + And made the strange, new landscape holy ground + + And when the bitter north-wind, keen and swift, + Swept the white street and piled the dooryard drift, + He exercised, as Friends might say, his gift + + Of verse, Dutch, English, Latin, like the hash + Of corn and beans in Indian succotash; + Dull, doubtless, but with here and there a flash + + Of wit and fine conceit,--the good man's play + Of quiet fancies, meet to while away + The slow hours measuring off an idle day. + + At evening, while his wife put on her look + Of love's endurance, from its niche he took + The written pages of his ponderous book. + + And read, in half the languages of man, + His "Rusca Apium," which with bees began, + And through the gamut of creation ran. + + Or, now and then, the missive of some friend + In gray Altorf or storied Nurnberg penned + Dropped in upon him like a guest to spend + + The night beneath his roof-tree. Mystical + The fair Von Merlau spake as waters fall + And voices sound in dreams, and yet withal + + Human and sweet, as if each far, low tone, + Over the roses of her gardens blown + Brought the warm sense of beauty all her own. + + Wise Spener questioned what his friend could trace + Of spiritual influx or of saving grace + In the wild natures of the Indian race. + + And learned Schurmberg, fain, at times, to look + From Talmud, Koran, Veds, and Pentateuch, + Sought out his pupil in his far-off nook, + + To query with him of climatic change, + Of bird, beast, reptile, in his forest range, + Of flowers and fruits and simples new and strange. + + And thus the Old and New World reached their hands + Across the water, and the friendly lands + Talked with each other from their severed strands. + + Pastorius answered all: while seed and root + Sent from his new home grew to flower and fruit + Along the Rhine and at the Spessart's foot; + + And, in return, the flowers his boyhood knew + Smiled at his door, the same in form and hue, + And on his vines the Rhenish clusters grew. + + No idler he; whoever else might shirk, + He set his hand to every honest work,-- + Farmer and teacher, court and meeting clerk. + + Still on the town seal his device is found, + Grapes, flax, and thread-spool on a trefoil ground, + With "Vinum, Linum et Textrinum" wound. + + One house sufficed for gospel and for law, + Where Paul and Grotius, Scripture text and saw, + Assured the good, and held the rest in awe. + + Whatever legal maze he wandered through, + He kept the Sermon on the Mount in view, + And justice always into mercy grew. + + No whipping-post he needed, stocks, nor jail, + Nor ducking-stool; the orchard-thief grew pale + At his rebuke, the vixen ceased to rail, + + The usurer's grasp released the forfeit land; + The slanderer faltered at the witness-stand, + And all men took his counsel for command. + + Was it caressing air, the brooding love + Of tenderer skies than German land knew of, + Green calm below, blue quietness above, + + Still flow of water, deep repose of wood + That, with a sense of loving Fatherhood + And childlike trust in the Eternal Good, + + Softened all hearts, and dulled the edge of hate, + Hushed strife, and taught impatient zeal to wait + The slow assurance of the better state? + + Who knows what goadings in their sterner way + O'er jagged ice, relieved by granite gray, + Blew round the men of Massachusetts Bay? + + What hate of heresy the east-wind woke? + What hints of pitiless power and terror spoke + In waves that on their iron coast-line broke? + + Be it as it may: within the Land of Penn + The sectary yielded to the citizen, + And peaceful dwelt the many-creeded men. + + Peace brooded over all. No trumpet stung + The air to madness, and no steeple flung + Alarums down from bells at midnight rung. + + The land slept well. The Indian from his face + Washed all his war-paint off, and in the place + Of battle-marches sped the peaceful chase, + + Or wrought for wages at the white man's side,-- + Giving to kindness what his native pride + And lazy freedom to all else denied. + + And well the curious scholar loved the old + Traditions that his swarthy neighbors told + By wigwam-fires when nights were growing cold, + + Discerned the fact round which their fancy drew + Its dreams, and held their childish faith more true + To God and man than half the creeds he knew. + + The desert blossomed round him; wheat-fields rolled + Beneath the warm wind waves of green and gold; + The planted ear returned its hundred-fold. + + Great clusters ripened in a warmer sun + Than that which by the Rhine stream shines upon + The purpling hillsides with low vines o'errun. + + About each rustic porch the humming-bird + Tried with light bill, that scarce a petal stirred, + The Old World flowers to virgin soil transferred; + + And the first-fruits of pear and apple, bending + The young boughs down, their gold and russet blending, + Made glad his heart, familiar odors lending + + To the fresh fragrance of the birch and pine, + Life-everlasting, bay, and eglantine, + And all the subtle scents the woods combine. + + Fair First-Day mornings, steeped in summer calm, + Warm, tender, restful, sweet with woodland balm, + Came to him, like some mother-hallowed psalm + + To the tired grinder at the noisy wheel + Of labor, winding off from memory's reel + A golden thread of music. With no peal + + Of bells to call them to the house of praise, + The scattered settlers through green forest-ways + Walked meeting-ward. In reverent amaze + + The Indian trapper saw them, from the dim + Shade of the alders on the rivulet's rim, + Seek the Great Spirit's house to talk with Him. + + There, through the gathered stillness multiplied + And made intense by sympathy, outside + The sparrows sang, and the gold-robin cried, + + A-swing upon his elm. A faint perfume + Breathed through the open windows of the room + From locust-trees, heavy with clustered bloom. + + Thither, perchance, sore-tried confessors came, + Whose fervor jail nor pillory could tame, + Proud of the cropped ears meant to be their shame, + + Men who had eaten slavery's bitter bread + In Indian isles; pale women who had bled + Under the hangman's lash, and bravely said + + God's message through their prison's iron bars; + And gray old soldier-converts, seamed with scars + From every stricken field of England's wars. + + Lowly before the Unseen Presence knelt + Each waiting heart, till haply some one felt + On his moved lips the seal of silence melt. + + Or, without spoken words, low breathings stole + Of a diviner life from soul to soul, + Baptizing in one tender thought the whole. + + When shaken hands announced the meeting o'er, + The friendly group still lingered at the door, + Greeting, inquiring, sharing all the store + + Of weekly tidings. Meanwhile youth and maid + Down the green vistas of the woodland strayed, + Whispered and smiled and oft their feet delayed. + + Did the boy's whistle answer back the thrushes? + Did light girl laughter ripple through the bushes, + As brooks make merry over roots and rushes? + + Unvexed the sweet air seemed. Without a wound + The ear of silence heard, and every sound + Its place in nature's fine accordance found. + + And solemn meeting, summer sky and wood, + Old kindly faces, youth and maidenhood + Seemed, like God's new creation, very good! + + And, greeting all with quiet smile and word, + Pastorius went his way. The unscared bird + Sang at his side; scarcely the squirrel stirred + + At his hushed footstep on the mossy sod; + And, wheresoe'er the good man looked or trod, + He felt the peace of nature and of God. + + His social life wore no ascetic form, + He loved all beauty, without fear of harm, + And in his veins his Teuton blood ran warm. + + Strict to himself, of other men no spy, + He made his own no circuit-judge to try + The freer conscience of his neighbors by. + + With love rebuking, by his life alone, + Gracious and sweet, the better way was shown, + The joy of one, who, seeking not his own, + + And faithful to all scruples, finds at last + The thorns and shards of duty overpast, + And daily life, beyond his hope's forecast, + + Pleasant and beautiful with sight and sound, + And flowers upspringing in its narrow round, + And all his days with quiet gladness crowned. + + He sang not; but, if sometimes tempted strong, + He hummed what seemed like Altorf's Burschen-song; + His good wife smiled, and did not count it wrong. + + For well he loved his boyhood's brother band; + His Memory, while he trod the New World's strand, + A double-ganger walked the Fatherland + + If, when on frosty Christmas eves the light + Shone on his quiet hearth, he missed the sight + Of Yule-log, Tree, and Christ-child all in white; + + And closed his eyes, and listened to the sweet + Old wait-songs sounding down his native street, + And watched again the dancers' mingling feet; + + Yet not the less, when once the vision passed, + He held the plain and sober maxims fast + Of the dear Friends with whom his lot was cast. + + Still all attuned to nature's melodies, + He loved the bird's song in his dooryard trees, + And the low hum of home-returning bees; + + The blossomed flax, the tulip-trees in bloom + Down the long street, the beauty and perfume + Of apple-boughs, the mingling light and gloom + + Of Sommerhausen's woodlands, woven through + With sun--threads; and the music the wind drew, + Mournful and sweet, from leaves it overblew. + + And evermore, beneath this outward sense, + And through the common sequence of events, + He felt the guiding hand of Providence + + Reach out of space. A Voice spake in his ear, + And to all other voices far and near + Died at that whisper, full of meanings clear. + + The Light of Life shone round him; one by one + The wandering lights, that all-misleading run, + Went out like candles paling in the sun. + + That Light he followed, step by step, where'er + It led, as in the vision of the seer + The wheels moved as the spirit in the clear + + And terrible crystal moved, with all their eyes + Watching the living splendor sink or rise, + Its will their will, knowing no otherwise. + + Within himself he found the law of right, + He walked by faith and not the letter's sight, + And read his Bible by the Inward Light. + + And if sometimes the slaves of form and rule, + Frozen in their creeds like fish in winter's pool, + Tried the large tolerance of his liberal school, + + His door was free to men of every name, + He welcomed all the seeking souls who came, + And no man's faith he made a cause of blame. + + But best he loved in leisure hours to see + His own dear Friends sit by him knee to knee, + In social converse, genial, frank, and free. + + There sometimes silence (it were hard to tell + Who owned it first) upon the circle fell, + Hushed Anna's busy wheel, and laid its spell + + On the black boy who grimaced by the hearth, + To solemnize his shining face of mirth; + Only the old clock ticked amidst the dearth + + Of sound; nor eye was raised nor hand was stirred + In that soul-sabbath, till at last some word + Of tender counsel or low prayer was heard. + + Then guests, who lingered but farewell to say + And take love's message, went their homeward way; + So passed in peace the guileless Quaker's day. + + His was the Christian's unsung Age of Gold, + A truer idyl than the bards have told + Of Arno's banks or Arcady of old. + + Where still the Friends their place of burial keep, + And century-rooted mosses o'er it creep, + The Nurnberg scholar and his helpmeet sleep. + + And Anna's aloe? If it flowered at last + In Bartram's garden, did John Woolman cast + A glance upon it as he meekly passed? + + And did a secret sympathy possess + That tender soul, and for the slave's redress + Lend hope, strength, patience? It were vain to + guess. + + Nay, were the plant itself but mythical, + Set in the fresco of tradition's wall + Like Jotham's bramble, mattereth not at all. + + Enough to know that, through the winter's frost + And summer's heat, no seed of truth is lost, + And every duty pays at last its cost. + + For, ere Pastorius left the sun and air, + God sent the answer to his life-long prayer; + The child was born beside the Delaware, + + Who, in the power a holy purpose lends, + Guided his people unto nobler ends, + And left them worthier of the name of Friends. + + And to! the fulness of the time has come, + And over all the exile's Western home, + From sea to sea the flowers of freedom bloom! + + And joy-bells ring, and silver trumpets blow; + But not for thee, Pastorius! Even so + The world forgets, but the wise angels know. + + + + +KING VOLMER AND ELSIE. + +AFTER THE DANISH OF CHRISTIAN WINTER. + + WHERE, over heathen doom-rings and gray stones + of the Horg, + In its little Christian city stands the church of + Vordingborg, + In merry mood King Volmer sat, forgetful of his + power, + As idle as the Goose of Gold that brooded on his + tower. + + Out spake the King to Henrik, his young and faithful + squire + "Dar'st trust thy little Elsie, the maid of thy + desire?" + "Of all the men in Denmark she loveth only me + As true to me is Elsie as thy Lily is to thee." + + Loud laughed the king: "To-morrow shall bring + another day, (18) + When I myself will test her; she will not say me + nay." + Thereat the lords and gallants, that round about + him stood, + Wagged all their heads in concert and smiled as + courtiers should. + + The gray lark sings o'er Vordingborg, and on the + ancient town + From the tall tower of Valdemar the Golden Goose + looks down; + The yellow grain is waving in the pleasant wind of + morn, + The wood resounds with cry of hounds and blare + of hunter's horn. + + In the garden of her father little Elsie sits and + spins, + And, singing with the early birds, her daily task, + begins. + Gay tulips bloom and sweet mint curls around her + garden-bower, + But she is sweeter than the mint and fairer than + the flower. + + About her form her kirtle blue clings lovingly, and, + white + As snow, her loose sleeves only leave her small, + round wrists in sight; + Below, the modest petticoat can only half conceal + The motion of the lightest foot that ever turned a + wheel. + + The cat sits purring at her side, bees hum in + sunshine warm; + But, look! she starts, she lifts her face, she shades + it with her arm. + And, hark! a train of horsemen, with sound of + dog and horn, + Come leaping o'er the ditches, come trampling + down the corn! + + Merrily rang the bridle-reins, and scarf and plume + streamed gay, + As fast beside her father's gate the riders held + their way; + And one was brave in scarlet cloak, with golden + spur on heel, + And, as he checked his foaming steed, the maiden + checked her wheel. + + "All hail among thy roses, the fairest rose to me! + For weary months in secret my heart has longed for + thee!" + What noble knight was this? What words for + modest maiden's ear? + She dropped a lowly courtesy of bashfulness and + fear. + + She lifted up her spinning-wheel; she fain would + seek the door, + Trembling in every limb, her cheek with blushes + crimsoned o'er. + "Nay, fear me not," the rider said, "I offer heart + and hand, + Bear witness these good Danish knights who round + about me stand. + + "I grant you time to think of this, to answer as + you may, + For to-morrow, little Elsie, shall bring another day." + He spake the old phrase slyly as, glancing round + his train, + He saw his merry followers seek to hide their + smiles in vain. + + "The snow of pearls I'll scatter in your curls of + golden hair, + I'll line with furs the velvet of the kirtle that you + wear; + All precious gems shall twine your neck; and in + a chariot gay + You shall ride, my little Elsie, behind four steeds + of gray. + + "And harps shall sound, and flutes shall play, and + brazen lamps shall glow; + On marble floors your feet shall weave the dances + to and fro. + At frosty eventide for us the blazing hearth shall + shine, + While, at our ease, we play at draughts, and drink + the blood-red wine." + + Then Elsie raised her head and met her wooer face + to face; + A roguish smile shone in her eye and on her lip + found place. + Back from her low white forehead the curls of + gold she threw, + And lifted up her eyes to his, steady and clear and + blue. + + "I am a lowly peasant, and you a gallant knight; + I will not trust a love that soon may cool and turn + to slight. + If you would wed me henceforth be a peasant, not + a lord; + I bid you hang upon the wall your tried and trusty + sword." + + "To please you, Elsie, I will lay keen Dynadel + away, + And in its place will swing the scythe and mow + your father's hay." + "Nay, but your gallant scarlet cloak my eyes can + never bear; + A Vadmal coat, so plain and gray, is all that you + must wear." + + "Well, Vadmal will I wear for you," the rider + gayly spoke, + "And on the Lord's high altar I'll lay my scarlet + cloak." + "But mark," she said, "no stately horse my peasant + love must ride, + A yoke of steers before the plough is all that he + must guide." + + The knight looked down upon his steed: "Well, + let him wander free + No other man must ride the horse that has been + backed by me. + Henceforth I'll tread the furrow and to my oxen + talk, + If only little Elsie beside my plough will walk." + + "You must take from out your cellar cask of wine + and flask and can; + The homely mead I brew you may serve a peasant. + man." + "Most willingly, fair Elsie, I'll drink that mead + of thine, + And leave my minstrel's thirsty throat to drain + my generous wine." + + "Now break your shield asunder, and shatter sign + and boss, + Unmeet for peasant-wedded arms, your knightly + knee across. + And pull me down your castle from top to basement + wall, + And let your plough trace furrows in the ruins of + your hall!" + + Then smiled he with a lofty pride; right well at + last he knew + The maiden of the spinning-wheel was to her troth. + plight true. + "Ah, roguish little Elsie! you act your part full + well + You know that I must bear my shield and in my + castle dwell! + + "The lions ramping on that shield between the + hearts aflame + Keep watch o'er Denmark's honor, and guard her + ancient name. + + "For know that I am Volmer; I dwell in yonder + towers, + Who ploughs them ploughs up Denmark, this + goodly home of ours'. + + "I tempt no more, fair Elsie! your heart I know + is true; + Would God that all our maidens were good and + pure as you! + Well have you pleased your monarch, and he shall + well repay; + God's peace! Farewell! To-morrow will bring + another day!" + + He lifted up his bridle hand, he spurred his good + steed then, + And like a whirl-blast swept away with all his + gallant men. + The steel hoofs beat the rocky path; again on + winds of morn + The wood resounds with cry of hounds and blare + of hunter's horn. + + "Thou true and ever faithful!" the listening + Henrik cried; + And, leaping o'er the green hedge, he stood by + Elsie's side. + None saw the fond embracing, save, shining from + afar, + The Golden Goose that watched them from the + tower of Valdemar. + + O darling girls of Denmark! of all the flowers + that throng + Her vales of spring the fairest, I sing for you my + song. + No praise as yours so bravely rewards the singer's + skill; + Thank God! of maids like Elsie the land has + plenty still! + + 1872. + + + + +THE THREE BELLS. + + BENEATH the low-hung night cloud + That raked her splintering mast + The good ship settled slowly, + The cruel leak gained fast. + + Over the awful ocean + Her signal guns pealed out. + Dear God! was that Thy answer + From the horror round about? + + A voice came down the wild wind, + "Ho! ship ahoy!" its cry + "Our stout Three Bells of Glasgow + Shall lay till daylight by!" + + Hour after hour crept slowly, + Yet on the heaving swells + Tossed up and down the ship-lights, + The lights of the Three Bells! + + And ship to ship made signals, + Man answered back to man, + While oft, to cheer and hearten, + The Three Bells nearer ran; + + And the captain from her taffrail + Sent down his hopeful cry + "Take heart! Hold on!" he shouted; + "The Three Bells shall lay by!" + + All night across the waters + The tossing lights shone clear; + All night from reeling taffrail + The Three Bells sent her cheer. + + And when the dreary watches + Of storm and darkness passed, + Just as the wreck lurched under, + All souls were saved at last. + + Sail on, Three Bells, forever, + In grateful memory sail! + Ring on, Three Bells of rescue, + Above the wave and gale! + + Type of the Love eternal, + Repeat the Master's cry, + As tossing through our darkness + The lights of God draw nigh! + + 1872. + + + + +JOHN UNDERHILL. + + A SCORE of years had come and gone + Since the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth stone, + When Captain Underhill, bearing scars + From Indian ambush and Flemish wars, + Left three-hilled Boston and wandered down, + East by north, to Cocheco town. + + With Vane the younger, in counsel sweet, + He had sat at Anna Hutchinson's feet, + And, when the bolt of banishment fell + On the head of his saintly oracle, + He had shared her ill as her good report, + And braved the wrath of the General Court. + + He shook from his feet as he rode away + The dust of the Massachusetts Bay. + The world might bless and the world might ban, + What did it matter the perfect man, + To whom the freedom of earth was given, + Proof against sin, and sure of heaven? + + He cheered his heart as he rode along + With screed of Scripture and holy song, + Or thought how he rode with his lances free + By the Lower Rhine and the Zuyder-Zee, + Till his wood-path grew to a trodden road, + And Hilton Point in the distance showed. + + He saw the church with the block-house nigh, + The two fair rivers, the flakes thereby, + And, tacking to windward, low and crank, + The little shallop from Strawberry Bank; + And he rose in his stirrups and looked abroad + Over land and water, and praised the Lord. + + Goodly and stately and grave to see, + Into the clearing's space rode he, + With the sun on the hilt of his sword in sheath, + And his silver buckles and spurs beneath, + And the settlers welcomed him, one and all, + From swift Quampeagan to Gonic Fall. + + And he said to the elders: "Lo, I come + As the way seemed open to seek a home. + Somewhat the Lord hath wrought by my hands + In the Narragansett and Netherlands, + And if here ye have work for a Christian man, + I will tarry, and serve ye as best I can. + + "I boast not of gifts, but fain would own + The wonderful favor God hath shown, + The special mercy vouchsafed one day + On the shore of Narragansett Bay, + As I sat, with my pipe, from the camp aside, + And mused like Isaac at eventide. + + "A sudden sweetness of peace I found, + A garment of gladness wrapped me round; + I felt from the law of works released, + The strife of the flesh and spirit ceased, + My faith to a full assurance grew, + And all I had hoped for myself I knew. + + "Now, as God appointeth, I keep my way, + I shall not stumble, I shall not stray; + He hath taken away my fig-leaf dress, + I wear the robe of His righteousness; + And the shafts of Satan no more avail + Than Pequot arrows on Christian mail." + + "Tarry with us," the settlers cried, + "Thou man of God, as our ruler and guide." + And Captain Underhill bowed his head. + "The will of the Lord be done!" he said. + And the morrow beheld him sitting down + In the ruler's seat in Cocheco town. + + And he judged therein as a just man should; + His words were wise and his rule was good; + He coveted not his neighbor's land, + From the holding of bribes he shook his hand; + And through the camps of the heathen ran + A wholesome fear of the valiant man. + + But the heart is deceitful, the good Book saith, + And life hath ever a savor of death. + Through hymns of triumph the tempter calls, + And whoso thinketh he standeth falls. + Alas! ere their round the seasons ran, + There was grief in the soul of the saintly man. + + The tempter's arrows that rarely fail + Had found the joints of his spiritual mail; + And men took note of his gloomy air, + The shame in his eye, the halt in his prayer, + The signs of a battle lost within, + The pain of a soul in the coils of sin. + + Then a whisper of scandal linked his name + With broken vows and a life of blame; + And the people looked askance on him + As he walked among them sullen and grim, + Ill at ease, and bitter of word, + And prompt of quarrel with hand or sword. + + None knew how, with prayer and fasting still, + He strove in the bonds of his evil will; + But he shook himself like Samson at length, + And girded anew his loins of strength, + And bade the crier go up and down + And call together the wondering town. + + Jeer and murmur and shaking of head + Ceased as he rose in his place and said + "Men, brethren, and fathers, well ye know + How I came among you a year ago, + Strong in the faith that my soul was freed + From sin of feeling, or thought, or deed. + + "I have sinned, I own it with grief and shame, + But not with a lie on my lips I came. + In my blindness I verily thought my heart + Swept and garnished in every part. + He chargeth His angels with folly; He sees + The heavens unclean. Was I more than these? + + "I urge no plea. At your feet I lay + The trust you gave me, and go my way. + Hate me or pity me, as you will, + The Lord will have mercy on sinners still; + And I, who am chiefest, say to all, + Watch and pray, lest ye also fall." + + No voice made answer: a sob so low + That only his quickened ear could know + Smote his heart with a bitter pain, + As into the forest he rode again, + And the veil of its oaken leaves shut down + On his latest glimpse of Cocheco town. + + Crystal-clear on the man of sin + The streams flashed up, and the sky shone in; + On his cheek of fever the cool wind blew, + The leaves dropped on him their tears of dew, + And angels of God, in the pure, sweet guise + Of flowers, looked on him with sad surprise. + + Was his ear at fault that brook and breeze + Sang in their saddest of minor keys? + What was it the mournful wood-thrush said? + What whispered the pine-trees overhead? + Did he hear the Voice on his lonely way + That Adam heard in the cool of day? + + Into the desert alone rode he, + Alone with the Infinite Purity; + And, bowing his soul to its tender rebuke, + As Peter did to the Master's look, + He measured his path with prayers of pain + For peace with God and nature again. + + And in after years to Cocheco came + The bruit of a once familiar name; + How among the Dutch of New Netherlands, + From wild Danskamer to Haarlem sands, + A penitent soldier preached the Word, + And smote the heathen with Gideon's sword! + + And the heart of Boston was glad to hear + How he harried the foe on the long frontier, + And heaped on the land against him barred + The coals of his generous watch and ward. + Frailest and bravest! the Bay State still + Counts with her worthies John Underhill. + + 1873. + + + + +CONDUCTOR BRADLEY. + +A railway conductor who lost his life in an accident on a Connecticut +railway, May 9, 1873. + + + CONDUCTOR BRADLEY, (always may his name + Be said with reverence!) as the swift doom came, + Smitten to death, a crushed and mangled frame, + + Sank, with the brake he grasped just where he stood + To do the utmost that a brave man could, + And die, if needful, as a true man should. + + Men stooped above him; women dropped their tears + On that poor wreck beyond all hopes or fears, + Lost in the strength and glory of his years. + + What heard they? Lo! the ghastly lips of pain, + Dead to all thought save duty's, moved again + "Put out the signals for the other train!" + + No nobler utterance since the world began + From lips of saint or martyr ever ran, + Electric, through the sympathies of man. + + Ah me! how poor and noteless seem to this + The sick-bed dramas of self-consciousness, + Our sensual fears of pain and hopes of bliss! + + Oh, grand, supreme endeavor! Not in vain + That last brave act of failing tongue and brain + Freighted with life the downward rushing train, + + Following the wrecked one, as wave follows wave, + Obeyed the warning which the dead lips gave. + Others he saved, himself he could not save. + + Nay, the lost life was saved. He is not dead + Who in his record still the earth shall tread + With God's clear aureole shining round his head. + + We bow as in the dust, with all our pride + Of virtue dwarfed the noble deed beside. + God give us grace to live as Bradley died! + + 1873. + + + + +THE WITCH OF WENHAM. + +The house is still standing in Danvers, Mass., where, it is said, a +suspected witch was confined overnight in the attic, which was bolted +fast. In the morning when the constable came to take her to Salem for +trial she was missing, although the door was still bolted. Her escape +was doubtless aided by her friends, but at the time it was attributed +to Satanic interference. + + + I. + + ALONG Crane River's sunny slopes + Blew warm the winds of May, + And over Naumkeag's ancient oaks + The green outgrew the gray. + + The grass was green on Rial-side, + The early birds at will + Waked up the violet in its dell, + The wind-flower on its hill. + + "Where go you, in your Sunday coat, + Son Andrew, tell me, pray." + For striped perch in Wenham Lake + I go to fish to-day." + + "Unharmed of thee in Wenham Lake + The mottled perch shall be + A blue-eyed witch sits on the bank + And weaves her net for thee. + + "She weaves her golden hair; she sings + Her spell-song low and faint; + The wickedest witch in Salem jail + Is to that girl a saint." + + "Nay, mother, hold thy cruel tongue; + God knows," the young man cried, + "He never made a whiter soul + Than hers by Wenham side. + + "She tends her mother sick and blind, + And every want supplies; + To her above the blessed Book + She lends her soft blue eyes. + + "Her voice is glad with holy songs, + Her lips are sweet with prayer; + Go where you will, in ten miles round + Is none more good and fair." + + "Son Andrew, for the love of God + And of thy mother, stay!" + She clasped her hands, she wept aloud, + But Andrew rode away. + + "O reverend sir, my Andrew's soul + The Wenham witch has caught; + She holds him with the curled gold + Whereof her snare is wrought. + + "She charms him with her great blue eyes, + She binds him with her hair; + Oh, break the spell with holy words, + Unbind him with a prayer!" + + "Take heart," the painful preacher said, + "This mischief shall not be; + The witch shall perish in her sins + And Andrew shall go free. + + "Our poor Ann Putnam testifies + She saw her weave a spell, + Bare-armed, loose-haired, at full of moon, + Around a dried-up well. + + "'Spring up, O well!' she softly sang + The Hebrew's old refrain + (For Satan uses Bible words), + Till water flowed a-main. + + "And many a goodwife heard her speak + By Wenham water words + That made the buttercups take wings + And turn to yellow birds. + + "They say that swarming wild bees seek + The hive at her command; + And fishes swim to take their food + From out her dainty hand. + + "Meek as she sits in meeting-time, + The godly minister + Notes well the spell that doth compel + The young men's eyes to her. + + "The mole upon her dimpled chin + Is Satan's seal and sign; + Her lips are red with evil bread + And stain of unblest wine. + + "For Tituba, my Indian, saith + At Quasycung she took + The Black Man's godless sacrament + And signed his dreadful book. + + "Last night my sore-afflicted child + Against the young witch cried. + To take her Marshal Herrick rides + Even now to Wenham side." + + The marshal in his saddle sat, + His daughter at his knee; + "I go to fetch that arrant witch, + Thy fair playmate," quoth he. + + "Her spectre walks the parsonage, + And haunts both hall and stair; + They know her by the great blue eyes + And floating gold of hair." + + "They lie, they lie, my father dear! + No foul old witch is she, + But sweet and good and crystal-pure + As Wenham waters be." + + "I tell thee, child, the Lord hath set + Before us good and ill, + And woe to all whose carnal loves + Oppose His righteous will. + + "Between Him and the powers of hell + Choose thou, my child, to-day + No sparing hand, no pitying eye, + When God commands to slay!" + + He went his way; the old wives shook + With fear as he drew nigh; + The children in the dooryards held + Their breath as he passed by. + + Too well they knew the gaunt gray horse + The grim witch-hunter rode + The pale Apocalyptic beast + By grisly Death bestrode. + + + II. + + Oh, fair the face of Wenham Lake + Upon the young girl's shone, + Her tender mouth, her dreaming eyes, + Her yellow hair outblown. + + By happy youth and love attuned + To natural harmonies, + The singing birds, the whispering wind, + She sat beneath the trees. + + Sat shaping for her bridal dress + Her mother's wedding gown, + When lo! the marshal, writ in hand, + From Alford hill rode down. + + His face was hard with cruel fear, + He grasped the maiden's hands + "Come with me unto Salem town, + For so the law commands!" + + "Oh, let me to my mother say + Farewell before I go!" + He closer tied her little hands + Unto his saddle bow. + + "Unhand me," cried she piteously, + "For thy sweet daughter's sake." + "I'll keep my daughter safe," he said, + "From the witch of Wenham Lake." + + "Oh, leave me for my mother's sake, + She needs my eyes to see." + "Those eyes, young witch, the crows shall peck + From off the gallows-tree." + + He bore her to a farm-house old, + And up its stairway long, + And closed on her the garret-door + With iron bolted strong. + + The day died out, the night came down + Her evening prayer she said, + While, through the dark, strange faces seemed + To mock her as she prayed. + + The present horror deepened all + The fears her childhood knew; + The awe wherewith the air was filled + With every breath she drew. + + And could it be, she trembling asked, + Some secret thought or sin + Had shut good angels from her heart + And let the bad ones in? + + Had she in some forgotten dream + Let go her hold on Heaven, + And sold herself unwittingly + To spirits unforgiven? + + Oh, weird and still the dark hours passed; + No human sound she heard, + But up and down the chimney stack + The swallows moaned and stirred. + + And o'er her, with a dread surmise + Of evil sight and sound, + The blind bats on their leathern wings + Went wheeling round and round. + + Low hanging in the midnight sky + Looked in a half-faced moon. + Was it a dream, or did she hear + Her lover's whistled tune? + + She forced the oaken scuttle back; + A whisper reached her ear + "Slide down the roof to me," it said, + "So softly none may hear." + + She slid along the sloping roof + Till from its eaves she hung, + And felt the loosened shingles yield + To which her fingers clung. + + Below, her lover stretched his hands + And touched her feet so small; + "Drop down to me, dear heart," he said, + "My arms shall break the fall." + + He set her on his pillion soft, + Her arms about him twined; + And, noiseless as if velvet-shod, + They left the house behind. + + But when they reached the open way, + Full free the rein he cast; + Oh, never through the mirk midnight + Rode man and maid more fast. + + Along the wild wood-paths they sped, + The bridgeless streams they swam; + At set of moon they passed the Bass, + At sunrise Agawam. + + At high noon on the Merrimac + The ancient ferryman + Forgot, at times, his idle oars, + So fair a freight to scan. + + And when from off his grounded boat + He saw them mount and ride, + "God keep her from the evil eye, + And harm of witch!" he cried. + + The maiden laughed, as youth will laugh + At all its fears gone by; + "He does not know," she whispered low, + "A little witch am I." + + All day he urged his weary horse, + And, in the red sundown, + Drew rein before a friendly door + In distant Berwick town. + + A fellow-feeling for the wronged + The Quaker people felt; + And safe beside their kindly hearths + The hunted maiden dwelt, + + Until from off its breast the land + The haunting horror threw, + And hatred, born of ghastly dreams, + To shame and pity grew. + + Sad were the year's spring morns, and sad + Its golden summer day, + But blithe and glad its withered fields, + And skies of ashen gray; + + For spell and charm had power no more, + The spectres ceased to roam, + And scattered households knelt again + Around the hearths of home. + + And when once more by Beaver Dam + The meadow-lark outsang, + And once again on all the hills + The early violets sprang, + + And all the windy pasture slopes + Lay green within the arms + Of creeks that bore the salted sea + To pleasant inland farms, + + The smith filed off the chains he forged, + The jail-bolts backward fell; + And youth and hoary age came forth + Like souls escaped from hell. + + 1877 + + + + +KING SOLOMON AND THE ANTS + + OUT from Jerusalem + The king rode with his great + War chiefs and lords of state, + And Sheba's queen with them; + + Comely, but black withal, + To whom, perchance, belongs + That wondrous Song of songs, + Sensuous and mystical, + + Whereto devout souls turn + In fond, ecstatic dream, + And through its earth-born theme + The Love of loves discern. + + Proud in the Syrian sun, + In gold and purple sheen, + The dusky Ethiop queen + Smiled on King Solomon. + + Wisest of men, he knew + The languages of all + The creatures great or small + That trod the earth or flew. + + Across an ant-hill led + The king's path, and he heard + Its small folk, and their word + He thus interpreted: + + "Here comes the king men greet + As wise and good and just, + To crush us in the dust + Under his heedless feet." + + The great king bowed his head, + And saw the wide surprise + Of the Queen of Sheba's eyes + As he told her what they said. + + "O king!" she whispered sweet, + "Too happy fate have they + Who perish in thy way + Beneath thy gracious feet! + + "Thou of the God-lent crown, + Shall these vile creatures dare + Murmur against thee where + The knees of kings kneel down?" + + "Nay," Solomon replied, + "The wise and strong should seek + The welfare of the weak," + And turned his horse aside. + + His train, with quick alarm, + Curved with their leader round + The ant-hill's peopled mound, + And left it free from harm. + + The jewelled head bent low; + "O king!" she said, "henceforth + The secret of thy worth + And wisdom well I know. + + "Happy must be the State + Whose ruler heedeth more + The murmurs of the poor + Than flatteries of the great." + + 1877. + + + + +IN THE "OLD SOUTH." + +On the 8th of July, 1677, Margaret Brewster with four other Friends +went into the South Church in time of meeting, "in sack-cloth, with +ashes upon her head, barefoot, and her face blackened," and delivered +"a warning from the great God of Heaven and Earth to the Rulers and +Magistrates of Boston." For the offence she was sentenced to be "whipped +at a cart's tail up and down the Town, with twenty lashes." + + SHE came and stood in the Old South Church, + A wonder and a sign, + With a look the old-time sibyls wore, + Half-crazed and half-divine. + + Save the mournful sackcloth about her wound, + Unclothed as the primal mother, + With limbs that trembled and eyes that blazed + With a fire she dare not smother. + + Loose on her shoulders fell her hair, + With sprinkled ashes gray; + She stood in the broad aisle strange and weird + As a soul at the judgment day. + + And the minister paused in his sermon's midst, + And the people held their breath, + For these were the words the maiden spoke + Through lips as the lips of death: + + "Thus saith the Lord, with equal feet + All men my courts shall tread, + And priest and ruler no more shall eat + My people up like bread! + + "Repent! repent! ere the Lord shall speak + In thunder and breaking seals + Let all souls worship Him in the way + His light within reveals." + + She shook the dust from her naked feet, + And her sackcloth closer drew, + And into the porch of the awe-hushed church + She passed like a ghost from view. + + They whipped her away at the tail o' the cart + Through half the streets of the town, + But the words she uttered that day nor fire + Could burn nor water drown. + + And now the aisles of the ancient church + By equal feet are trod, + And the bell that swings in its belfry rings + Freedom to worship God! + + And now whenever a wrong is done + It thrills the conscious walls; + The stone from the basement cries aloud + And the beam from the timber calls. + + There are steeple-houses on every hand, + And pulpits that bless and ban, + And the Lord will not grudge the single church + That is set apart for man. + + For in two commandments are all the law + And the prophets under the sun, + And the first is last and the last is first, + And the twain are verily one. + + So, long as Boston shall Boston be, + And her bay-tides rise and fall, + Shall freedom stand in the Old South Church + And plead for the rights of all! + + 1877. + + + + +THE HENCHMAN. + + MY lady walks her morning round, + My lady's page her fleet greyhound, + My lady's hair the fond winds stir, + And all the birds make songs for her. + + Her thrushes sing in Rathburn bowers, + And Rathburn side is gay with flowers; + But ne'er like hers, in flower or bird, + Was beauty seen or music heard. + + The distance of the stars is hers; + The least of all her worshippers, + The dust beneath her dainty heel, + She knows not that I see or feel. + + Oh, proud and calm!--she cannot know + Where'er she goes with her I go; + Oh, cold and fair!--she cannot guess + I kneel to share her hound's caress! + + Gay knights beside her hunt and hawk, + I rob their ears of her sweet talk; + Her suitors come from east and west, + I steal her smiles from every guest. + + Unheard of her, in loving words, + I greet her with the song of birds; + I reach her with her green-armed bowers, + I kiss her with the lips of flowers. + + The hound and I are on her trail, + The wind and I uplift her veil; + As if the calm, cold moon she were, + And I the tide, I follow her. + + As unrebuked as they, I share + The license of the sun and air, + And in a common homage hide + My worship from her scorn and pride. + + World-wide apart, and yet so near, + I breathe her charmed atmosphere, + Wherein to her my service brings + The reverence due to holy things. + + Her maiden pride, her haughty name, + My dumb devotion shall not shame; + The love that no return doth crave + To knightly levels lifts the slave, + + No lance have I, in joust or fight, + To splinter in my lady's sight + But, at her feet, how blest were I + For any need of hers to die! + + 1877. + + + + +THE DEAD FEAST OF THE KOL-FOLK. + +E. B. Tylor in his Primitive Culture, chapter xii., gives an account of +the reverence paid the dead by the Kol tribes of Chota Nagpur, Assam. +"When a Ho or Munda," he says, "has been burned on the funeral pile, +collected morsels of his bones are carried in procession with a solemn, +ghostly, sliding step, keeping time to the deep-sounding drum, and when +the old woman who carries the bones on her bamboo tray lowers it from +time to time, then girls who carry pitchers and brass vessels mournfully +reverse them to show that they are empty; thus the remains are taken to +visit every house in the village, and every dwelling of a friend or +relative for miles, and the inmates come out to mourn and praise the +goodness of the departed; the bones are carried to all the dead man's +favorite haunts, to the fields he cultivated, to the grove he planted, +to the threshing-floor where he worked, to the village dance-room where +he made merry. At last they are taken to the grave, and buried in an +earthen vase upon a store of food, covered with one of those huge stone +slabs which European visitors wonder at in the districts of the +aborigines of India." In the Journal of the Asiatic Society, Bengal, +vol. ix., p. 795, is a Ho dirge. + + + WE have opened the door, + Once, twice, thrice! + We have swept the floor, + We have boiled the rice. + Come hither, come hither! + Come from the far lands, + Come from the star lands, + Come as before! + We lived long together, + We loved one another; + Come back to our life. + Come father, come mother, + Come sister and brother, + Child, husband, and wife, + For you we are sighing. + Come take your old places, + Come look in our faces, + The dead on the dying, + Come home! + + We have opened the door, + Once, twice, thrice! + We have kindled the coals, + And we boil the rice + For the feast of souls. + Come hither, come hither! + Think not we fear you, + Whose hearts are so near you. + Come tenderly thought on, + Come all unforgotten, + Come from the shadow-lands, + From the dim meadow-lands + Where the pale grasses bend + Low to our sighing. + Come father, come mother, + Come sister and brother, + Come husband and friend, + The dead to the dying, + Come home! + + We have opened the door + You entered so oft; + For the feast of souls + We have kindled the coals, + And we boil the rice soft. + Come you who are dearest + To us who are nearest, + Come hither, come hither, + From out the wild weather; + The storm clouds are flying, + The peepul is sighing; + Come in from the rain. + Come father, come mother, + Come sister and brother, + Come husband and lover, + Beneath our roof-cover. + Look on us again, + The dead on the dying, + Come home! + + We have opened the door! + For the feast of souls + We have kindled the coals + We may kindle no more! + Snake, fever, and famine, + The curse of the Brahmin, + The sun and the dew, + They burn us, they bite us, + They waste us and smite us; + Our days are but few + In strange lands far yonder + To wonder and wander + We hasten to you. + List then to our sighing, + While yet we are here + Nor seeing nor hearing, + We wait without fearing, + To feel you draw near. + O dead, to the dying + Come home! + + 1879. + + + + +THE KHAN'S DEVIL. + + + THE Khan came from Bokhara town + To Hamza, santon of renown. + + "My head is sick, my hands are weak; + Thy help, O holy man, I seek." + + In silence marking for a space + The Khan's red eyes and purple face, + + Thick voice, and loose, uncertain tread, + "Thou hast a devil!" Hamza said. + + "Allah forbid!" exclaimed the Khan. + Rid me of him at once, O man!" + + "Nay," Hamza said, "no spell of mine + Can slay that cursed thing of thine. + + "Leave feast and wine, go forth and drink + Water of healing on the brink + + "Where clear and cold from mountain snows, + The Nahr el Zeben downward flows. + + "Six moons remain, then come to me; + May Allah's pity go with thee!" + + Awestruck, from feast and wine the Khan + Went forth where Nahr el Zeben ran. + + Roots were his food, the desert dust + His bed, the water quenched his thirst; + + And when the sixth moon's scimetar + Curved sharp above the evening star, + + He sought again the santon's door, + Not weak and trembling as before, + + But strong of limb and clear of brain; + "Behold," he said, "the fiend is slain." + + "Nay," Hamza answered, "starved and drowned, + The curst one lies in death-like swound. + + "But evil breaks the strongest gyves, + And jins like him have charmed lives. + + "One beaker of the juice of grape + May call him up in living shape. + + "When the red wine of Badakshan + Sparkles for thee, beware, O Khan, + + "With water quench the fire within, + And drown each day thy devilkin!" + + Thenceforth the great Khan shunned the cup + As Shitan's own, though offered up, + + With laughing eyes and jewelled hands, + By Yarkand's maids and Samarcand's. + + And, in the lofty vestibule + Of the medress of Kaush Kodul, + + The students of the holy law + A golden-lettered tablet saw, + + With these words, by a cunning hand, + Graved on it at the Khan's command: + + "In Allah's name, to him who hath + A devil, Khan el Hamed saith, + + "Wisely our Prophet cursed the vine + The fiend that loves the breath of wine, + + "No prayer can slay, no marabout + Nor Meccan dervis can drive out. + + "I, Khan el Hamed, know the charm + That robs him of his power to harm. + + "Drown him, O Islam's child! the spell + To save thee lies in tank and well!" + + 1879. + + + + +THE KING'S MISSIVE. + +1661. + +This ballad, originally written for The Memorial History of Boston, +describes, with pardonable poetic license, a memorable incident in the +annals of the city. The interview between Shattuck and the Governor took +place, I have since learned, in the residence of the latter, and not +in the Council Chamber. The publication of the ballad led to some +discussion as to the historical truthfulness of the picture, but I have +seen no reason to rub out any of the figures or alter the lines and +colors. + + + UNDER the great hill sloping bare + To cove and meadow and Common lot, + In his council chamber and oaken chair, + Sat the worshipful Governor Endicott. + A grave, strong man, who knew no peer + In the pilgrim land, where he ruled in fear + Of God, not man, and for good or ill + Held his trust with an iron will. + + He had shorn with his sword the cross from out + The flag, and cloven the May-pole down, + Harried the heathen round about, + And whipped the Quakers from town to town. + Earnest and honest, a man at need + To burn like a torch for his own harsh creed, + He kept with the flaming brand of his zeal + The gate of the holy common weal. + + His brow was clouded, his eye was stern, + With a look of mingled sorrow and wrath; + "Woe's me!" he murmured: "at every turn + The pestilent Quakers are in my path! + Some we have scourged, and banished some, + Some hanged, more doomed, and still they come, + Fast as the tide of yon bay sets in, + Sowing their heresy's seed of sin. + + "Did we count on this? Did we leave behind + The graves of our kin, the comfort and ease + Of our English hearths and homes, to find + Troublers of Israel such as these? + Shall I spare? Shall I pity them? God forbid! + I will do as the prophet to Agag did + They come to poison the wells of the Word, + I will hew them in pieces before the Lord!" + + The door swung open, and Rawson the clerk + Entered, and whispered under breath, + "There waits below for the hangman's work + A fellow banished on pain of death-- + Shattuck, of Salem, unhealed of the whip, + Brought over in Master Goldsmith's ship + At anchor here in a Christian port, + With freight of the devil and all his sort!" + + Twice and thrice on the chamber floor + Striding fiercely from wall to wall, + "The Lord do so to me and more," + The Governor cried, "if I hang not all! + Bring hither the Quaker." Calm, sedate, + With the look of a man at ease with fate, + Into that presence grim and dread + Came Samuel Shattuck, with hat on head. + + "Off with the knave's hat!" An angry hand + Smote down the offence; but the wearer said, + With a quiet smile, "By the king's command + I bear his message and stand in his stead." + In the Governor's hand a missive he laid + With the royal arms on its seal displayed, + And the proud man spake as he gazed thereat, + Uncovering, "Give Mr. Shattuck his hat." + + He turned to the Quaker, bowing low,-- + "The king commandeth your friends' release; + Doubt not he shall be obeyed, although + To his subjects' sorrow and sin's increase. + What he here enjoineth, John Endicott, + His loyal servant, questioneth not. + You are free! God grant the spirit you own + May take you from us to parts unknown." + + So the door of the jail was open cast, + And, like Daniel, out of the lion's den + Tender youth and girlhood passed, + With age-bowed women and gray-locked men. + And the voice of one appointed to die + Was lifted in praise and thanks on high, + And the little maid from New Netherlands + Kissed, in her joy, the doomed man's hands. + + And one, whose call was to minister + To the souls in prison, beside him went, + An ancient woman, bearing with her + The linen shroud for his burial meant. + For she, not counting her own life dear, + In the strength of a love that cast out fear, + Had watched and served where her brethren died, + Like those who waited the cross beside. + + One moment they paused on their way to look + On the martyr graves by the Common side, + And much scourged Wharton of Salem took + His burden of prophecy up and cried + "Rest, souls of the valiant! Not in vain + Have ye borne the Master's cross of pain; + Ye have fought the fight, ye are victors crowned, + With a fourfold chain ye have Satan bound!" + + The autumn haze lay soft and still + On wood and meadow and upland farms; + On the brow of Snow Hill the great windmill + Slowly and lazily swung its arms; + Broad in the sunshine stretched away, + With its capes and islands, the turquoise bay; + And over water and dusk of pines + Blue hills lifted their faint outlines. + + The topaz leaves of the walnut glowed, + The sumach added its crimson fleck, + And double in air and water showed + The tinted maples along the Neck; + Through frost flower clusters of pale star-mist, + And gentian fringes of amethyst, + And royal plumes of golden-rod, + The grazing cattle on Centry trod. + + But as they who see not, the Quakers saw + The world about them; they only thought + With deep thanksgiving and pious awe + On the great deliverance God had wrought. + Through lane and alley the gazing town + Noisily followed them up and down; + Some with scoffing and brutal jeer, + Some with pity and words of cheer. + + One brave voice rose above the din. + Upsall, gray with his length of days, + Cried from the door of his Red Lion Inn + "Men of Boston, give God the praise + No more shall innocent blood call down + The bolts of wrath on your guilty town. + The freedom of worship, dear to you, + Is dear to all, and to all is due. + + "I see the vision of days to come, + When your beautiful City of the Bay + Shall be Christian liberty's chosen home, + And none shall his neighbor's rights gainsay. + The varying notes of worship shall blend + And as one great prayer to God ascend, + And hands of mutual charity raise + Walls of salvation and gates of praise." + + So passed the Quakers through Boston town, + Whose painful ministers sighed to see + The walls of their sheep-fold falling down, + And wolves of heresy prowling free. + But the years went on, and brought no wrong; + With milder counsels the State grew strong, + As outward Letter and inward Light + Kept the balance of truth aright. + + The Puritan spirit perishing not, + To Concord's yeomen the signal sent, + And spake in the voice of the cannon-shot + That severed the chains of a continent. + With its gentler mission of peace and good-will + The thought of the Quaker is living still, + And the freedom of soul he prophesied + Is gospel and law where the martyrs died. + + 1880. + + + + +VALUATION. + + THE old Squire said, as he stood by his gate, + And his neighbor, the Deacon, went by, + "In spite of my bank stock and real estate, + You are better off, Deacon, than I. + + "We're both growing old, and the end's drawing near, + You have less of this world to resign, + But in Heaven's appraisal your assets, I fear, + Will reckon up greater than mine. + + "They say I am rich, but I'm feeling so poor, + I wish I could swap with you even + The pounds I have lived for and laid up in store + For the shillings and pence you have given." + + "Well, Squire," said the Deacon, with shrewd + common sense, + While his eye had a twinkle of fun, + "Let your pounds take the way of my shillings + and pence, + And the thing can be easily done!" + + 1880. + + + + +RABBI ISHMAEL. + +"Rabbi Ishmael Ben Elisha said, Once, I entered into the Holy of Holies +(as High Priest) to burn incense, when I saw Aktriel (the Divine Crown) +Jah, Lord of Hosts, sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, who said +unto me, 'Ishmael, my son, bless me.' I answered, 'May it please Thee to +make Thy compassion prevail over Thine anger; may it be revealed above +Thy other attributes; mayest Thou deal with Thy children according to +it, and not according to the strict measure of judgment.' It seemed to +me that He bowed His head, as though to answer Amen to my blessing."-- +Talmud (Beraehoth, I. f. 6. b.) + + + THE Rabbi Ishmael, with the woe and sin + Of the world heavy upon him, entering in + The Holy of Holies, saw an awful Face + With terrible splendor filling all the place. + "O Ishmael Ben Elisha!" said a voice, + "What seekest thou? What blessing is thy choice?" + And, knowing that he stood before the Lord, + Within the shadow of the cherubim, + Wide-winged between the blinding light and him, + He bowed himself, and uttered not a word, + But in the silence of his soul was prayer + "O Thou Eternal! I am one of all, + And nothing ask that others may not share. + Thou art almighty; we are weak and small, + And yet Thy children: let Thy mercy spare!" + Trembling, he raised his eyes, and in the place + Of the insufferable glory, lo! a face + Of more than mortal tenderness, that bent + Graciously down in token of assent, + And, smiling, vanished! With strange joy elate, + The wondering Rabbi sought the temple's gate. + Radiant as Moses from the Mount, he stood + And cried aloud unto the multitude + "O Israel, hear! The Lord our God is good! + Mine eyes have seen his glory and his grace; + Beyond his judgments shall his love endure; + The mercy of the All Merciful is sure!" + + 1881. + + + + +THE ROCK-TOMB OF BRADORE. + +H. Y. Hind, in Explorations in the Interior of the Labrador Peninsula +(ii. 166) mentions the finding of a rock tomb near the little fishing +port of Bradore, with the inscription upon it which is given in the +poem. + + A DREAR and desolate shore! + Where no tree unfolds its leaves, + And never the spring wind weaves + Green grass for the hunter's tread; + A land forsaken and dead, + Where the ghostly icebergs go + And come with the ebb and flow + Of the waters of Bradore! + + A wanderer, from a land + By summer breezes fanned, + Looked round him, awed, subdued, + By the dreadful solitude, + Hearing alone the cry + Of sea-birds clanging by, + The crash and grind of the floe, + Wail of wind and wash of tide. + "O wretched land!" he cried, + "Land of all lands the worst, + God forsaken and curst! + Thy gates of rock should show + The words the Tuscan seer + Read in the Realm of Woe + Hope entereth not here!" + + Lo! at his feet there stood + A block of smooth larch wood, + Waif of some wandering wave, + Beside a rock-closed cave + By Nature fashioned for a grave; + Safe from the ravening bear + And fierce fowl of the air, + Wherein to rest was laid + A twenty summers' maid, + Whose blood had equal share + Of the lands of vine and snow, + Half French, half Eskimo. + In letters uneffaced, + Upon the block were traced + The grief and hope of man, + And thus the legend ran + "We loved her! + Words cannot tell how well! + We loved her! + God loved her! + And called her home to peace and rest. + We love her." + + The stranger paused and read. + "O winter land!" he said, + "Thy right to be I own; + God leaves thee not alone. + And if thy fierce winds blow + Over drear wastes of rock and snow, + And at thy iron gates + The ghostly iceberg waits, + Thy homes and hearts are dear. + Thy sorrow o'er thy sacred dust + Is sanctified by hope and trust; + God's love and man's are here. + And love where'er it goes + Makes its own atmosphere; + Its flowers of Paradise + Take root in the eternal ice, + And bloom through Polar snows!" + + 1881. + + + + +THE BAY OF SEVEN ISLANDS. + +The volume in which "The Bay of Seven Islands" was published was +dedicated to the late Edwin Percy Whipple, to whom more than to any +other person I was indebted for public recognition as one worthy of a +place in American literature, at a time when it required a great degree +of courage to urge such a claim for a pro-scribed abolitionist. Although +younger than I, he had gained the reputation of a brilliant essayist, +and was regarded as the highest American authority in criticism. His wit +and wisdom enlivened a small literary circle of young men including +Thomas Starr King, the eloquent preacher, and Daniel N. Haskell of the +Daily Transcript, who gathered about our common friend dames T. Fields +at the Old Corner Bookstore. The poem which gave title to the volume I +inscribed to my friend and neighbor Harriet Prescott Spofford, whose +poems have lent a new interest to our beautiful river-valley. + + FROM the green Amesbury hill which bears the name + Of that half mythic ancestor of mine + Who trod its slopes two hundred years ago, + Down the long valley of the Merrimac, + Midway between me and the river's mouth, + I see thy home, set like an eagle's nest + Among Deer Island's immemorial pines, + Crowning the crag on which the sunset breaks + Its last red arrow. Many a tale and song, + Which thou bast told or sung, I call to mind, + Softening with silvery mist the woods and hills, + The out-thrust headlands and inreaching bays + Of our northeastern coast-line, trending where + The Gulf, midsummer, feels the chill blockade + Of icebergs stranded at its northern gate. + + To thee the echoes of the Island Sound + Answer not vainly, nor in vain the moan + Of the South Breaker prophesying storm. + And thou hast listened, like myself, to men + Sea-periled oft where Anticosti lies + Like a fell spider in its web of fog, + Or where the Grand Bank shallows with the wrecks + Of sunken fishers, and to whom strange isles + And frost-rimmed bays and trading stations seem + Familiar as Great Neck and Kettle Cove, + Nubble and Boon, the common names of home. + So let me offer thee this lay of mine, + Simple and homely, lacking much thy play + Of color and of fancy. If its theme + And treatment seem to thee befitting youth + Rather than age, let this be my excuse + It has beguiled some heavy hours and called + Some pleasant memories up; and, better still, + Occasion lent me for a kindly word + To one who is my neighbor and my friend. + + 1883. + + . . . . . . . . . . + + + The skipper sailed out of the harbor mouth, + Leaving the apple-bloom of the South + For the ice of the Eastern seas, + In his fishing schooner Breeze. + + Handsome and brave and young was he, + And the maids of Newbury sighed to see + His lessening white sail fall + Under the sea's blue wall. + + Through the Northern Gulf and the misty screen + Of the isles of Mingan and Madeleine, + St. Paul's and Blanc Sablon, + The little Breeze sailed on, + + Backward and forward, along the shore + Of lorn and desolate Labrador, + And found at last her way + To the Seven Islands Bay. + + The little hamlet, nestling below + Great hills white with lingering snow, + With its tin-roofed chapel stood + Half hid in the dwarf spruce wood; + + Green-turfed, flower-sown, the last outpost + Of summer upon the dreary coast, + With its gardens small and spare, + Sad in the frosty air. + + Hard by where the skipper's schooner lay, + A fisherman's cottage looked away + Over isle and bay, and behind + On mountains dim-defined. + + And there twin sisters, fair and young, + Laughed with their stranger guest, and sung + In their native tongue the lays + Of the old Provencal days. + + Alike were they, save the faint outline + Of a scar on Suzette's forehead fine; + And both, it so befell, + Loved the heretic stranger well. + + Both were pleasant to look upon, + But the heart of the skipper clave to one; + Though less by his eye than heart + He knew the twain apart. + + Despite of alien race and creed, + Well did his wooing of Marguerite speed; + And the mother's wrath was vain + As the sister's jealous pain. + + The shrill-tongued mistress her house forbade, + And solemn warning was sternly said + By the black-robed priest, whose word + As law the hamlet heard. + + But half by voice and half by signs + The skipper said, "A warm sun shines + On the green-banked Merrimac; + Wait, watch, till I come back. + + "And when you see, from my mast head, + The signal fly of a kerchief red, + My boat on the shore shall wait; + Come, when the night is late." + + Ah! weighed with childhood's haunts and friends, + And all that the home sky overbends, + Did ever young love fail + To turn the trembling scale? + + Under the night, on the wet sea sands, + Slowly unclasped their plighted hands + One to the cottage hearth, + And one to his sailor's berth. + + What was it the parting lovers heard? + Nor leaf, nor ripple, nor wing of bird, + But a listener's stealthy tread + On the rock-moss, crisp and dead. + + He weighed his anchor, and fished once more + By the black coast-line of Labrador; + And by love and the north wind driven, + Sailed back to the Islands Seven. + + In the sunset's glow the sisters twain + Saw the Breeze come sailing in again; + Said Suzette, "Mother dear, + The heretic's sail is here." + + "Go, Marguerite, to your room, and hide; + Your door shall be bolted!" the mother cried: + While Suzette, ill at ease, + Watched the red sign of the Breeze. + + At midnight, down to the waiting skiff + She stole in the shadow of the cliff; + And out of the Bay's mouth ran + The schooner with maid and man. + + And all night long, on a restless bed, + Her prayers to the Virgin Marguerite said + And thought of her lover's pain + Waiting for her in vain. + + Did he pace the sands? Did he pause to hear + The sound of her light step drawing near? + And, as the slow hours passed, + Would he doubt her faith at last? + + But when she saw through the misty pane, + The morning break on a sea of rain, + Could even her love avail + To follow his vanished sail? + + Meantime the Breeze, with favoring wind, + Left the rugged Moisic hills behind, + And heard from an unseen shore + The falls of Manitou roar. + + On the morrow's morn, in the thick, gray weather + They sat on the reeling deck together, + Lover and counterfeit, + Of hapless Marguerite. + + With a lover's hand, from her forehead fair + He smoothed away her jet-black hair. + What was it his fond eyes met? + The scar of the false Suzette! + + Fiercely he shouted: "Bear away + East by north for Seven Isles Bay!" + The maiden wept and prayed, + But the ship her helm obeyed. + + Once more the Bay of the Isles they found + They heard the bell of the chapel sound, + And the chant of the dying sung + In the harsh, wild Indian tongue. + + A feeling of mystery, change, and awe + Was in all they heard and all they saw + Spell-bound the hamlet lay + In the hush of its lonely bay. + + And when they came to the cottage door, + The mother rose up from her weeping sore, + And with angry gestures met + The scared look of Suzette. + + "Here is your daughter," the skipper said; + "Give me the one I love instead." + But the woman sternly spake; + "Go, see if the dead will wake!" + + He looked. Her sweet face still and white + And strange in the noonday taper light, + She lay on her little bed, + With the cross at her feet and head. + + In a passion of grief the strong man bent + Down to her face, and, kissing it, went + Back to the waiting Breeze, + Back to the mournful seas. + + Never again to the Merrimac + And Newbury's homes that bark came back. + Whether her fate she met + On the shores of Carraquette, + + Miscou, or Tracadie, who can say? + But even yet at Seven Isles Bay + Is told the ghostly tale + Of a weird, unspoken sail, + + In the pale, sad light of the Northern day + Seen by the blanketed Montagnais, + Or squaw, in her small kyack, + Crossing the spectre's track. + + On the deck a maiden wrings her hands; + Her likeness kneels on the gray coast sands; + One in her wild despair, + And one in the trance of prayer. + + She flits before no earthly blast, + The red sign fluttering from her mast, + Over the solemn seas, + The ghost of the schooner Breeze! + + 1882. + + + + +THE WISHING BRIDGE. + + AMONG the legends sung or said + Along our rocky shore, + The Wishing Bridge of Marblehead + May well be sung once more. + + An hundred years ago (so ran + The old-time story) all + Good wishes said above its span + Would, soon or late, befall. + + If pure and earnest, never failed + The prayers of man or maid + For him who on the deep sea sailed, + For her at home who stayed. + + Once thither came two girls from school, + And wished in childish glee + And one would be a queen and rule, + And one the world would see. + + Time passed; with change of hopes and fears, + And in the self-same place, + Two women, gray with middle years, + Stood, wondering, face to face. + + With wakened memories, as they met, + They queried what had been + "A poor man's wife am I, and yet," + Said one, "I am a queen. + + "My realm a little homestead is, + Where, lacking crown and throne, + I rule by loving services + And patient toil alone." + + The other said: "The great world lies + Beyond me as it lay; + O'er love's and duty's boundaries + My feet may never stray. + + "I see but common sights of home, + Its common sounds I hear, + My widowed mother's sick-bed room + Sufficeth for my sphere. + + "I read to her some pleasant page + Of travel far and wide, + And in a dreamy pilgrimage + We wander side by side. + + "And when, at last, she falls asleep, + My book becomes to me + A magic glass: my watch I keep, + But all the world I see. + + "A farm-wife queen your place you fill, + While fancy's privilege + Is mine to walk the earth at will, + Thanks to the Wishing Bridge." + + "Nay, leave the legend for the truth," + The other cried, "and say + God gives the wishes of our youth, + But in His own best way!" + + 1882. + + + + +HOW THE WOMEN WENT FROM DOVER. + +The following is a copy of the warrant issued by Major Waldron, of +Dover, in 1662. The Quakers, as was their wont, prophesied against him, +and saw, as they supposed, the fulfilment of their prophecy when, many +years after, he was killed by the Indians. + + To the constables of Dover, Hampton, Salisbury, Newbury, Rowley, + Ipswich, Wenham, Lynn, Boston, Roxbury, Dedham, and until these + vagabond Quakers are carried out of this jurisdiction. You, and + every one of you, are required, in the King's Majesty's name, to + take these vagabond Quakers, Anne Colman, Mary Tomkins, and Alice + Ambrose, and make them fast to the cart's tail, and driving the + cart through your several towns, to whip them upon their naked + backs not exceeding ten stripes apiece on each of them, in each + town; and so to convey them from constable to constable till they + are out of this jurisdiction, as you will answer it at your peril; + and this shall be your warrant. + RICHARD WALDRON. + Dated at Dover, December 22, 1662. + +This warrant was executed only in Dover and Hampton. At Salisbury the +constable refused to obey it. He was sustained by the town's people, who +were under the influence of Major Robert Pike, the leading man in the +lower valley of the Merrimac, who stood far in advance of his time, as +an advocate of religious freedom, and an opponent of ecclesiastical +authority. He had the moral courage to address an able and manly letter +to the court at Salem, remonstrating against the witchcraft trials. + + + THE tossing spray of Cocheco's fall + Hardened to ice on its rocky wall, + As through Dover town in the chill, gray dawn, + Three women passed, at the cart-tail drawn! + + Bared to the waist, for the north wind's grip + And keener sting of the constable's whip, + The blood that followed each hissing blow + Froze as it sprinkled the winter snow. + + Priest and ruler, boy and maid + Followed the dismal cavalcade; + And from door and window, open thrown, + Looked and wondered gaffer and crone. + + "God is our witness," the victims cried, + We suffer for Him who for all men died; + The wrong ye do has been done before, + We bear the stripes that the Master bore! + + And thou, O Richard Waldron, for whom + We hear the feet of a coming doom, + On thy cruel heart and thy hand of wrong + Vengeance is sure, though it tarry long. + + "In the light of the Lord, a flame we see + Climb and kindle a proud roof-tree; + And beneath it an old man lying dead, + With stains of blood on his hoary head." + + "Smite, Goodman Hate-Evil!--harder still!" + The magistrate cried, "lay on with a will! + Drive out of their bodies the Father of Lies, + Who through them preaches and prophesies!" + + So into the forest they held their way, + By winding river and frost-rimmed bay, + Over wind-swept hills that felt the beat + Of the winter sea at their icy feet. + + The Indian hunter, searching his traps, + Peered stealthily through the forest gaps; + And the outlying settler shook his head,-- + "They're witches going to jail," he said. + + At last a meeting-house came in view; + A blast on his horn the constable blew; + And the boys of Hampton cried up and down, + "The Quakers have come!" to the wondering town. + + From barn and woodpile the goodman came; + The goodwife quitted her quilting frame, + With her child at her breast; and, hobbling slow, + The grandam followed to see the show. + + Once more the torturing whip was swung, + Once more keen lashes the bare flesh stung. + "Oh, spare! they are bleeding!"' a little maid cried, + And covered her face the sight to hide. + + A murmur ran round the crowd: "Good folks," + Quoth the constable, busy counting the strokes, + "No pity to wretches like these is due, + They have beaten the gospel black and blue!" + + Then a pallid woman, in wild-eyed fear, + With her wooden noggin of milk drew near. + "Drink, poor hearts!" a rude hand smote + Her draught away from a parching throat. + + "Take heed," one whispered, "they'll take your cow + For fines, as they took your horse and plough, + And the bed from under you." "Even so," + She said; "they are cruel as death, I know." + + Then on they passed, in the waning day, + Through Seabrook woods, a weariful way; + By great salt meadows and sand-hills bare, + And glimpses of blue sea here and there. + + By the meeting-house in Salisbury town, + The sufferers stood, in the red sundown, + Bare for the lash! O pitying Night, + Drop swift thy curtain and hide the sight. + + With shame in his eye and wrath on his lip + The Salisbury constable dropped his whip. + "This warrant means murder foul and red; + Cursed is he who serves it," he said. + + "Show me the order, and meanwhile strike + A blow at your peril!" said Justice Pike. + Of all the rulers the land possessed, + Wisest and boldest was he and best. + + He scoffed at witchcraft; the priest he met + As man meets man; his feet he set + Beyond his dark age, standing upright, + Soul-free, with his face to the morning light. + + He read the warrant: "These convey + From our precincts; at every town on the way + Give each ten lashes." "God judge the brute! + I tread his order under my foot! + + "Cut loose these poor ones and let them go; + Come what will of it, all men shall know + No warrant is good, though backed by the Crown, + For whipping women in Salisbury town!" + + The hearts of the villagers, half released + From creed of terror and rule of priest, + By a primal instinct owned the right + Of human pity in law's despite. + + For ruth and chivalry only slept, + His Saxon manhood the yeoman kept; + Quicker or slower, the same blood ran + In the Cavalier and the Puritan. + + The Quakers sank on their knees in praise + And thanks. A last, low sunset blaze + Flashed out from under a cloud, and shed + A golden glory on each bowed head. + + The tale is one of an evil time, + When souls were fettered and thought was crime, + And heresy's whisper above its breath + Meant shameful scourging and bonds and death! + + What marvel, that hunted and sorely tried, + Even woman rebuked and prophesied, + And soft words rarely answered back + The grim persuasion of whip and rack. + + If her cry from the whipping-post and jail + Pierced sharp as the Kenite's driven nail, + O woman, at ease in these happier days, + Forbear to judge of thy sister's ways! + + How much thy beautiful life may owe + To her faith and courage thou canst not know, + Nor how from the paths of thy calm retreat + She smoothed the thorns with her bleeding feet. + + 1883. + + + + +SAINT GREGORY'S GUEST. + + A TALE for Roman guides to tell + To careless, sight-worn travellers still, + Who pause beside the narrow cell + Of Gregory on the Caelian Hill. + + One day before the monk's door came + A beggar, stretching empty palms, + Fainting and fast-sick, in the name + Of the Most Holy asking alms. + + And the monk answered, "All I have + In this poor cell of mine I give, + The silver cup my mother gave; + In Christ's name take thou it, and live." + + Years passed; and, called at last to bear + The pastoral crook and keys of Rome, + The poor monk, in Saint Peter's chair, + Sat the crowned lord of Christendom. + + "Prepare a feast," Saint Gregory cried, + "And let twelve beggars sit thereat." + The beggars came, and one beside, + An unknown stranger, with them sat. + + "I asked thee not," the Pontiff spake, + "O stranger; but if need be thine, + I bid thee welcome, for the sake + Of Him who is thy Lord and mine." + + A grave, calm face the stranger raised, + Like His who on Gennesaret trod, + Or His on whom the Chaldeans gazed, + Whose form was as the Son of God. + + "Know'st thou," he said, "thy gift of old?" + And in the hand he lifted up + The Pontiff marvelled to behold + Once more his mother's silver cup. + + "Thy prayers and alms have risen, and bloom + Sweetly among the flowers of heaven. + I am The Wonderful, through whom + Whate'er thou askest shall be given." + + He spake and vanished. Gregory fell + With his twelve guests in mute accord + Prone on their faces, knowing well + Their eyes of flesh had seen the Lord. + + The old-time legend is not vain; + Nor vain thy art, Verona's Paul, + Telling it o'er and o'er again + On gray Vicenza's frescoed wall. + + Still wheresoever pity shares + Its bread with sorrow, want, and sin, + And love the beggar's feast prepares, + The uninvited Guest comes in. + + Unheard, because our ears are dull, + Unseen, because our eyes are dim, + He walks our earth, The Wonderful, + And all good deeds are done to Him. + + 1883. + + + + +BIRCHBROOK MILL. + + A NOTELESS stream, the Birchbrook runs + Beneath its leaning trees; + That low, soft ripple is its own, + That dull roar is the sea's. + + Of human signs it sees alone + The distant church spire's tip, + And, ghost-like, on a blank of gray, + The white sail of a ship. + + No more a toiler at the wheel, + It wanders at its will; + Nor dam nor pond is left to tell + Where once was Birchbrook mill. + + The timbers of that mill have fed + Long since a farmer's fires; + His doorsteps are the stones that ground + The harvest of his sires. + + Man trespassed here; but Nature lost + No right of her domain; + She waited, and she brought the old + Wild beauty back again. + + By day the sunlight through the leaves + Falls on its moist, green sod, + And wakes the violet bloom of spring + And autumn's golden-rod. + + Its birches whisper to the wind, + The swallow dips her wings + In the cool spray, and on its banks + The gray song-sparrow sings. + + But from it, when the dark night falls, + The school-girl shrinks with dread; + The farmer, home-bound from his fields, + Goes by with quickened tread. + + They dare not pause to hear the grind + Of shadowy stone on stone; + The plashing of a water-wheel + Where wheel there now is none. + + Has not a cry of pain been heard + Above the clattering mill? + The pawing of an unseen horse, + Who waits his mistress still? + + Yet never to the listener's eye + Has sight confirmed the sound; + A wavering birch line marks alone + The vacant pasture ground. + + No ghostly arms fling up to heaven + The agony of prayer; + No spectral steed impatient shakes + His white mane on the air. + + The meaning of that common dread + No tongue has fitly told; + The secret of the dark surmise + The brook and birches hold. + + What nameless horror of the past + Broods here forevermore? + What ghost his unforgiven sin + Is grinding o'er and o'er? + + Does, then, immortal memory play + The actor's tragic part, + Rehearsals of a mortal life + And unveiled human heart? + + God's pity spare a guilty soul + That drama of its ill, + And let the scenic curtain fall + On Birchbrook's haunted mill + + 1884. + + + + +THE TWO ELIZABETHS. + +Read at the unveiling of the bust of Elizabeth Fry at the Friends' +School, Providence, R. I. + +A. D. 1209. + + AMIDST Thuringia's wooded hills she dwelt, + A high-born princess, servant of the poor, + Sweetening with gracious words the food she dealt + To starving throngs at Wartburg's blazoned door. + + A blinded zealot held her soul in chains, + Cramped the sweet nature that he could not kill, + Scarred her fair body with his penance-pains, + And gauged her conscience by his narrow will. + + God gave her gifts of beauty and of grace, + With fast and vigil she denied them all; + Unquestioning, with sad, pathetic face, + She followed meekly at her stern guide's call. + + So drooped and died her home-blown rose of bliss + In the chill rigor of a discipline + That turned her fond lips from her children's kiss, + And made her joy of motherhood a sin. + + To their sad level by compassion led, + One with the low and vile herself she made, + While thankless misery mocked the hand that fed, + And laughed to scorn her piteous masquerade. + + But still, with patience that outwearied hate, + She gave her all while yet she had to give; + And then her empty hands, importunate, + In prayer she lifted that the poor might live. + + Sore pressed by grief, and wrongs more hard to bear, + And dwarfed and stifled by a harsh control, + She kept life fragrant with good deeds and prayer, + And fresh and pure the white flower of her soul. + + Death found her busy at her task: one word + Alone she uttered as she paused to die, + "Silence!"--then listened even as one who heard + With song and wing the angels drawing nigh! + + Now Fra Angelico's roses fill her hands, + And, on Murillo's canvas, Want and Pain + Kneel at her feet. Her marble image stands + Worshipped and crowned in Marburg's holy fane. + + Yea, wheresoe'er her Church its cross uprears, + Wide as the world her story still is told; + In manhood's reverence, woman's prayers and tears, + She lives again whose grave is centuries old. + + And still, despite the weakness or the blame + Of blind submission to the blind, she hath + A tender place in hearts of every name, + And more than Rome owns Saint Elizabeth! + + + A. D. 1780. + + Slow ages passed: and lo! another came, + An English matron, in whose simple faith + Nor priestly rule nor ritual had claim, + A plain, uncanonized Elizabeth. + + No sackcloth robe, nor ashen-sprinkled hair, + Nor wasting fast, nor scourge, nor vigil long, + Marred her calm presence. God had made her fair, + And she could do His goodly work no wrong. + + Their yoke is easy and their burden light + Whose sole confessor is the Christ of God; + Her quiet trust and faith transcending sight + Smoothed to her feet the difficult paths she trod. + + And there she walked, as duty bade her go, + Safe and unsullied as a cloistered nun, + Shamed with her plainness Fashion's gaudy show, + And overcame the world she did not shun. + + In Earlham's bowers, in Plashet's liberal hall, + In the great city's restless crowd and din, + Her ear was open to the Master's call, + And knew the summons of His voice within. + + Tender as mother, beautiful as wife, + Amidst the throngs of prisoned crime she stood + In modest raiment faultless as her life, + The type of England's worthiest womanhood. + + To melt the hearts that harshness turned to stone + The sweet persuasion of her lips sufficed, + And guilt, which only hate and fear had known, + Saw in her own the pitying love of Christ. + + So wheresoe'er the guiding Spirit went + She followed, finding every prison cell + It opened for her sacred as a tent + Pitched by Gennesaret or by Jacob's well. + + And Pride and Fashion felt her strong appeal, + And priest and ruler marvelled as they saw + How hand in hand went wisdom with her zeal, + And woman's pity kept the bounds of law. + + She rests in God's peace; but her memory stirs + The air of earth as with an angel's wings, + And warms and moves the hearts of men like hers, + The sainted daughter of Hungarian kings. + + United now, the Briton and the Hun, + Each, in her own time, faithful unto death, + Live sister souls! in name and spirit one, + Thuringia's saint and our Elizabeth! + + 1885. + + + + +REQUITAL. + + As Islam's Prophet, when his last day drew + Nigh to its close, besought all men to say + Whom he had wronged, to whom he then should pay + A debt forgotten, or for pardon sue, + And, through the silence of his weeping friends, + A strange voice cried: "Thou owest me a debt," + "Allah be praised!" he answered. "Even yet + He gives me power to make to thee amends. + O friend! I thank thee for thy timely word." + So runs the tale. Its lesson all may heed, + For all have sinned in thought, or word, or deed, + Or, like the Prophet, through neglect have erred. + All need forgiveness, all have debts to pay + Ere the night cometh, while it still is day. + + 1885. + + + + +THE HOMESTEAD. + + AGAINST the wooded hills it stands, + Ghost of a dead home, staring through + Its broken lights on wasted lands + Where old-time harvests grew. + + Unploughed, unsown, by scythe unshorn, + The poor, forsaken farm-fields lie, + Once rich and rife with golden corn + And pale green breadths of rye. + + Of healthful herb and flower bereft, + The garden plot no housewife keeps; + Through weeds and tangle only left, + The snake, its tenant, creeps. + + A lilac spray, still blossom-clad, + Sways slow before the empty rooms; + Beside the roofless porch a sad + Pathetic red rose blooms. + + His track, in mould and dust of drouth, + On floor and hearth the squirrel leaves, + And in the fireless chimney's mouth + His web the spider weaves. + + The leaning barn, about to fall, + Resounds no more on husking eves; + No cattle low in yard or stall, + No thresher beats his sheaves. + + So sad, so drear! It seems almost + Some haunting Presence makes its sign; + That down yon shadowy lane some ghost + Might drive his spectral kine! + + O home so desolate and lorn! + Did all thy memories die with thee? + Were any wed, were any born, + Beneath this low roof-tree? + + Whose axe the wall of forest broke, + And let the waiting sunshine through? + What goodwife sent the earliest smoke + Up the great chimney flue? + + Did rustic lovers hither come? + Did maidens, swaying back and forth + In rhythmic grace, at wheel and loom, + Make light their toil with mirth? + + Did child feet patter on the stair? + Did boyhood frolic in the snow? + Did gray age, in her elbow chair, + Knit, rocking to and fro? + + The murmuring brook, the sighing breeze, + The pine's slow whisper, cannot tell; + Low mounds beneath the hemlock-trees + Keep the home secrets well. + + Cease, mother-land, to fondly boast + Of sons far off who strive and thrive, + Forgetful that each swarming host + Must leave an emptier hive. + + O wanderers from ancestral soil, + Leave noisome mill and chaffering store: + Gird up your loins for sturdier toil, + And build the home once more! + + Come back to bayberry-scented slopes, + And fragrant fern, and ground-nut vine; + Breathe airs blown over holt and copse + Sweet with black birch and pine. + + What matter if the gains are small + That life's essential wants supply? + Your homestead's title gives you all + That idle wealth can buy. + + All that the many-dollared crave, + The brick-walled slaves of 'Change and mart, + Lawns, trees, fresh air, and flowers, you have, + More dear for lack of art. + + Your own sole masters, freedom-willed, + With none to bid you go or stay, + Till the old fields your fathers tilled, + As manly men as they! + + With skill that spares your toiling hands, + And chemic aid that science brings, + Reclaim the waste and outworn lands, + And reign thereon as kings + + 1886. + + + + +HOW THE ROBIN CAME. + +AN ALGONQUIN LEGEND. + + HAPPY young friends, sit by me, + Under May's blown apple-tree, + While these home-birds in and out + Through the blossoms flit about. + Hear a story, strange and old, + By the wild red Indians told, + How the robin came to be: + + Once a great chief left his son,-- + Well-beloved, his only one,-- + When the boy was well-nigh grown, + In the trial-lodge alone. + Left for tortures long and slow + Youths like him must undergo, + Who their pride of manhood test, + Lacking water, food, and rest. + + Seven days the fast he kept, + Seven nights he never slept. + Then the young boy, wrung with pain, + Weak from nature's overstrain, + Faltering, moaned a low complaint + "Spare me, father, for I faint!" + But the chieftain, haughty-eyed, + Hid his pity in his pride. + "You shall be a hunter good, + Knowing never lack of food; + You shall be a warrior great, + Wise as fox and strong as bear; + Many scalps your belt shall wear, + If with patient heart you wait + Bravely till your task is done. + Better you should starving die + Than that boy and squaw should cry + Shame upon your father's son!" + + When next morn the sun's first rays + Glistened on the hemlock sprays, + Straight that lodge the old chief sought, + And boiled sainp and moose meat brought. + "Rise and eat, my son!" he said. + Lo, he found the poor boy dead! + + As with grief his grave they made, + And his bow beside him laid, + Pipe, and knife, and wampum-braid, + On the lodge-top overhead, + Preening smooth its breast of red + And the brown coat that it wore, + Sat a bird, unknown before. + And as if with human tongue, + "Mourn me not," it said, or sung; + "I, a bird, am still your son, + Happier than if hunter fleet, + Or a brave, before your feet + Laying scalps in battle won. + Friend of man, my song shall cheer + Lodge and corn-land; hovering near, + To each wigwam I shall bring + Tidings of the corning spring; + Every child my voice shall know + In the moon of melting snow, + When the maple's red bud swells, + And the wind-flower lifts its bells. + As their fond companion + Men shall henceforth own your son, + And my song shall testify + That of human kin am I." + + Thus the Indian legend saith + How, at first, the robin came + With a sweeter life from death, + Bird for boy, and still the same. + If my young friends doubt that this + Is the robin's genesis, + Not in vain is still the myth + If a truth be found therewith + Unto gentleness belong + Gifts unknown to pride and wrong; + Happier far than hate is praise,-- + He who sings than he who slays. + + + + +BANISHED FROM MASSACHUSETTS. + +1660. + +On a painting by E. A. Abbey. The General Court of Massachusetts enacted +Oct. 19, 1658, that "any person or persons of the cursed sect of +Quakers" should, on conviction of the same, be banished, on pain +of death, from the jurisdiction of the common-wealth. + + + OVER the threshold of his pleasant home + Set in green clearings passed the exiled Friend, + In simple trust, misdoubting not the end. + "Dear heart of mine!" he said, "the time has come + To trust the Lord for shelter." One long gaze + The goodwife turned on each familiar thing,-- + The lowing kine, the orchard blossoming, + The open door that showed the hearth-fire's blaze,-- + And calmly answered, "Yes, He will provide." + Silent and slow they crossed the homestead's bound, + Lingering the longest by their child's grave-mound. + "Move on, or stay and hang!" the sheriff cried. + They left behind them more than home or land, + And set sad faces to an alien strand. + + Safer with winds and waves than human wrath, + With ravening wolves than those whose zeal for God + Was cruelty to man, the exiles trod + Drear leagues of forest without guide or path, + Or launching frail boats on the uncharted sea, + Round storm-vexed capes, whose teeth of granite ground + The waves to foam, their perilous way they wound, + Enduring all things so their souls were free. + Oh, true confessors, shaming them who did + Anew the wrong their Pilgrim Fathers bore + For you the Mayflower spread her sail once more, + Freighted with souls, to all that duty bid + Faithful as they who sought an unknown land, + O'er wintry seas, from Holland's Hook of Sand! + + So from his lost home to the darkening main, + Bodeful of storm, stout Macy held his way, + And, when the green shore blended with the gray, + His poor wife moaned: "Let us turn back again." + "Nay, woman, weak of faith, kneel down," said he, + And say thy prayers: the Lord himself will steer; + And led by Him, nor man nor devils I fear! + So the gray Southwicks, from a rainy sea, + Saw, far and faint, the loom of land, and gave + With feeble voices thanks for friendly ground + Whereon to rest their weary feet, and found + A peaceful death-bed and a quiet grave + Where, ocean-walled, and wiser than his age, + The lord of Shelter scorned the bigot's rage. + Aquidneck's isle, Nantucket's lonely shores, + And Indian-haunted Narragansett saw + The way-worn travellers round their camp-fire draw, + Or heard the plashing of their weary oars. + And every place whereon they rested grew + Happier for pure and gracious womanhood, + And men whose names for stainless honor stood, + Founders of States and rulers wise and true. + The Muse of history yet shall make amends + To those who freedom, peace, and justice taught, + Beyond their dark age led the van of thought, + And left unforfeited the name of Friends. + O mother State, how foiled was thy design + The gain was theirs, the loss alone was thine. + + + + +THE BROWN DWARF OF RUGEN. + +The hint of this ballad is found in Arndt's Murchen, Berlin, 1816. The +ballad appeared first in St. Nicholas, whose young readers were advised, +while smiling at the absurd superstition, to remember that bad +companionship and evil habits, desires, and passions are more to be +dreaded now than the Elves and Trolls who frightened the children of +past ages. + + + THE pleasant isle of Rugen looks the Baltic water o'er, + To the silver-sanded beaches of the Pomeranian + shore; + + And in the town of Rambin a little boy and maid + Plucked the meadow-flowers together and in the + sea-surf played. + + Alike were they in beauty if not in their degree + He was the Amptman's first-born, the miller's + child was she. + + Now of old the isle of Rugen was full of Dwarfs + and Trolls, + The brown-faced little Earth-men, the people without + souls; + + And for every man and woman in Rugen's island + found + Walking in air and sunshine, a Troll was + underground. + + It chanced the little maiden, one morning, strolled + away + Among the haunted Nine Hills, where the elves + and goblins play. + + That day, in barley-fields below, the harvesters had + known + Of evil voices in the air, and heard the small horns + blown. + + She came not back; the search for her in field and + wood was vain + They cried her east, they cried her west, but she + came not again. + + "She's down among the Brown Dwarfs," said the + dream-wives wise and old, + And prayers were made, and masses said, and + Rambin's church bell tolled. + + Five years her father mourned her; and then John + Deitrich said + "I will find my little playmate, be she alive or + dead." + + He watched among the Nine Hills, he heard the + Brown Dwarfs sing, + And saw them dance by moonlight merrily in a + ring. + + And when their gay-robed leader tossed up his cap + of red, + Young Deitrich caught it as it fell, and thrust it + on his head. + + The Troll came crouching at his feet and wept for + lack of it. + "Oh, give me back my magic cap, for your great + head unfit!" + + "Nay," Deitrich said; "the Dwarf who throws his + charmed cap away, + Must serve its finder at his will, and for his folly + pay. + + "You stole my pretty Lisbeth, and hid her in the + earth; + And you shall ope the door of glass and let me + lead her forth." + + "She will not come; she's one of us; she's + mine!" the Brown Dwarf said; + The day is set, the cake is baked, to-morrow we + shall wed." + + "The fell fiend fetch thee!" Deitrich cried, "and + keep thy foul tongue still. + Quick! open, to thy evil world, the glass door of + the hill!" + + The Dwarf obeyed; and youth and Troll down, the + long stair-way passed, + And saw in dim and sunless light a country strange + and vast. + + Weird, rich, and wonderful, he saw the elfin + under-land,-- + Its palaces of precious stones, its streets of golden + sand. + + He came unto a banquet-hall with tables richly + spread, + Where a young maiden served to him the red wine + and the bread. + + How fair she seemed among the Trolls so ugly and + so wild! + Yet pale and very sorrowful, like one who never + smiled! + + Her low, sweet voice, her gold-brown hair, her tender + blue eyes seemed + Like something he had seen elsewhere or some. + thing he had dreamed. + + He looked; he clasped her in his arms; he knew + the long-lost one; + "O Lisbeth! See thy playmate--I am the + Amptman's son!" + + She leaned her fair head on his breast, and through + her sobs she spoke + "Oh, take me from this evil place, and from the + elfin folk, + + "And let me tread the grass-green fields and smell + the flowers again, + And feel the soft wind on my cheek and hear the + dropping rain! + + "And oh, to hear the singing bird, the rustling of + the tree, + The lowing cows, the bleat of sheep, the voices of + the sea; + + "And oh, upon my father's knee to sit beside the + door, + And hear the bell of vespers ring in Rambin + church once more!" + + He kissed her cheek, he kissed her lips; the Brown + Dwarf groaned to see, + And tore his tangled hair and ground his long + teeth angrily. + + But Deitrich said: "For five long years this tender + Christian maid + Has served you in your evil world and well must + she be paid! + + "Haste!--hither bring me precious gems, the + richest in your store; + Then when we pass the gate of glass, you'll take + your cap once more." + + No choice was left the baffled Troll, and, murmuring, + he obeyed, + And filled the pockets of the youth and apron of + the maid. + + They left the dreadful under-land and passed the + gate of glass; + They felt the sunshine's warm caress, they trod the + soft, green grass. + + And when, beneath, they saw the Dwarf stretch up + to them his brown + And crooked claw-like fingers, they tossed his red + cap down. + + Oh, never shone so bright a sun, was never sky so + blue, + As hand in hand they homeward walked the pleasant + meadows through! + + And never sang the birds so sweet in Rambin's + woods before, + And never washed the waves so soft along the Baltic + shore; + + And when beneath his door-yard trees the father + met his child, + The bells rung out their merriest peal, the folks + with joy ran wild. + + + + + + +VOLUME II. POEMS OF NATURE plus POEMS SUBJECTIVE AND REMINISCENT and RELIGIOUS POEMS + + + +CONTENTS + +POEMS OF NATURE: + THE FROST SPIRIT + THE MERRIMAC + HAMPTON BEACH + A DREAM OF SUMMER + THE LAKESIDE + AUTUMN THOUGHTS + ON RECEIVING AN EAGLE'S QUILL FROM LAKE SUPERIOR + APRIL + PICTURES + SUMMER BY THE LAKESIDE + THE FRUIT-GIFT + FLOWERS IN WINTER + THE MAYFLOWERS + THE LAST WALK IN AUTUMN + THE FIRST FLOWERS + THE OLD BURYING-GROUND + THE PALM-TREE + THE RIVER PATH + MOUNTAIN PICTURES + I. FRANCONIA FROM THE PEMIGEWASSET + II. MONADNOCK FROM WACHUSET + THE VANISHERS + THE PAGEANT + THE PRESSED GENTIAN + A MYSTERY + A SEA DREAM + HAZEL BLOSSOMS + SUNSET ON THE BEARCAMP + THE SEEKING OF THE WATERFALL + THE TRAILING ARBUTUS + ST. MARTINS SUMMER + STORM ON LAKE ASQUAM + A SUMMER PILGRIMAGE + SWEET FERN + THE WOOD GIANT + A DAY + + +POEMS SUBJECTIVE AND REMINISCENT: + MEMORIES + RAPHAEL + EGO + THE PUMPKIN + FORGIVENESS + TO MY SISTER + MY THANKS + REMEMBRANCE + MY NAMESAKE + A MEMORY + MY DREAM + THE BAREFOOT BOY + MY PSALM + THE WAITING + SNOW-BOUND + MY TRIUMPH + IN SCHOOL-DAYS + MY BIRTHDAY + RED RIDING-HOOD + RESPONSE + AT EVENTIDE + VOYAGE OF THE JETTIE + MY TRUST + A NAME + GREETING + CONTENTS + AN AUTOGRAPH + ABRAM MORRISON + A LEGACY + +RELIGIOUS POEMS: + THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM + THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN + THE CALL OF THE CHRISTIAN + THE CRUCIFIXION + PALESTINE + HYMNS FROM THE FRENCH OF LAMARTINE + I. ENCORE UN HYMNE + II. LE CRI DE L'AME + THE FAMILIST'S HYMN + EZEKIEL + WHAT THE VOICE SAID + THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE + THE WIFE OF MANOAH TO HER HUSBAND + MY SOUL AND I + WORSHIP + THE HOLY LAND + THE REWARD + THE WISH OF TO-DAY + ALL'S WELL + INVOCATION + QUESTIONS OF LIFE + FIRST-DAY THOUGHTS + TRUST + TRINITAS + THE SISTERS + "THE ROCK" IN EL GHOR + THE OVER-HEART + THE SHADOW AND THE LIGHT + THE CRY OF A LOST SOUL + ANDREW RYKMAN'S PRAYER + THE ANSWER + THE ETERNAL GOODNESS + THE COMMON QUESTION + OUR MASTER + THE MEETING + THE CLEAR VISION + DIVINE COMPASSION + THE PRAYER-SEEKER + THE BREWING OF SOMA + A WOMAN + THE PRAYER OF AGASSIZ + IN QUEST + THE FRIEND'S BURIAL + A CHRISTMAS CARMEN + VESTA + CHILD-SONGS + THE HEALER + THE TWO ANGELS + OVERRULED + HYMN OF THE DUNKERS + GIVING AND TAKING + THE VISION OF ECHARD + INSCRIPTIONS + ON A SUN-DIAL + ON A FOUNTAIN + THE MINISTER'S DAUGHTER + BY THEIR WORKS + THE WORD + THE BOOK + REQUIREMENT + HELP + UTTERANCE + ORIENTAL MAXIMS + THE INWARD JUDGE + LAYING UP TREASURE + CONDUCT + AN EASTER FLOWER GIFT + THE MYSTIC'S CHRISTMAS + AT LAST + WHAT THE TRAVELLER SAID AT SUNSET + THE "STORY OF IDA" + THE LIGHT THAT IS FELT + THE TWO LOVES + ADJUSTMENT + HYMNS OF THE BRAHMO SOMAJ + REVELATION + + + + + +POEMS OF NATURE + + + + +THE FROST SPIRIT + + He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes + You may trace his footsteps now + On the naked woods and the blasted fields and the + brown hill's withered brow. + He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees + where their pleasant green came forth, + And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, + have shaken them down to earth. + + He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes! + from the frozen Labrador, + From the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which + the white bear wanders o'er, + Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, and the + luckless forms below + In the sunless cold of the lingering night into + marble statues grow + + He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes + on the rushing Northern blast, + And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed as his + fearful breath went past. + With an unscorched wing he has hurried on, + where the fires of Hecla glow + On the darkly beautiful sky above and the ancient + ice below. + + He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes + and the quiet lake shall feel + The torpid touch of his glazing breath, and ring to + the skater's heel; + And the streams which danced on the broken + rocks, or sang to the leaning grass, + Shall bow again to their winter chain, and in + mournful silence pass. + He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes! + Let us meet him as we may, + And turn with the light of the parlor-fire his evil + power away; + And gather closer the circle round, when that + fire-light dances high, + And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as + his sounding wing goes by! + + 1830. + + + +THE MERRIMAC. + + "The Indians speak of a beautiful river, far to the south, + which they call Merrimac."--SIEUR. DE MONTS, 1604. + + + Stream of my fathers! sweetly still + The sunset rays thy valley fill; + Poured slantwise down the long defile, + Wave, wood, and spire beneath them smile. + I see the winding Powow fold + The green hill in its belt of gold, + And following down its wavy line, + Its sparkling waters blend with thine. + There 's not a tree upon thy side, + Nor rock, which thy returning tide + As yet hath left abrupt and stark + Above thy evening water-mark; + No calm cove with its rocky hem, + No isle whose emerald swells begin + Thy broad, smooth current; not a sail + Bowed to the freshening ocean gale; + No small boat with its busy oars, + Nor gray wall sloping to thy shores; + Nor farm-house with its maple shade, + Or rigid poplar colonnade, + But lies distinct and full in sight, + Beneath this gush of sunset light. + Centuries ago, that harbor-bar, + Stretching its length of foam afar, + And Salisbury's beach of shining sand, + And yonder island's wave-smoothed strand, + Saw the adventurer's tiny sail, + Flit, stooping from the eastern gale; + And o'er these woods and waters broke + The cheer from Britain's hearts of oak, + As brightly on the voyager's eye, + Weary of forest, sea, and sky, + Breaking the dull continuous wood, + The Merrimac rolled down his flood; + Mingling that clear pellucid brook, + Which channels vast Agioochook + When spring-time's sun and shower unlock + The frozen fountains of the rock, + And more abundant waters given + From that pure lake, "The Smile of Heaven," + Tributes from vale and mountain-side,-- + With ocean's dark, eternal tide! + + On yonder rocky cape, which braves + The stormy challenge of the waves, + Midst tangled vine and dwarfish wood, + The hardy Anglo-Saxon stood, + Planting upon the topmost crag + The staff of England's battle-flag; + And, while from out its heavy fold + Saint George's crimson cross unrolled, + Midst roll of drum and trumpet blare, + And weapons brandishing in air, + He gave to that lone promontory + The sweetest name in all his story; + Of her, the flower of Islam's daughters, + Whose harems look on Stamboul's waters,-- + Who, when the chance of war had bound + The Moslem chain his limbs around, + Wreathed o'er with silk that iron chain, + Soothed with her smiles his hours of pain, + And fondly to her youthful slave + A dearer gift than freedom gave. + + But look! the yellow light no more + Streams down on wave and verdant shore; + And clearly on the calm air swells + The twilight voice of distant bells. + From Ocean's bosom, white and thin, + The mists come slowly rolling in; + Hills, woods, the river's rocky rim, + Amidst the sea--like vapor swim, + While yonder lonely coast-light, set + Within its wave-washed minaret, + Half quenched, a beamless star and pale, + Shines dimly through its cloudy veil! + + Home of my fathers!--I have stood + Where Hudson rolled his lordly flood + Seen sunrise rest and sunset fade + Along his frowning Palisade; + Looked down the Appalachian peak + On Juniata's silver streak; + Have seen along his valley gleam + The Mohawk's softly winding stream; + The level light of sunset shine + Through broad Potomac's hem of pine; + And autumn's rainbow-tinted banner + Hang lightly o'er the Susquehanna; + Yet wheresoe'er his step might be, + Thy wandering child looked back to thee! + Heard in his dreams thy river's sound + Of murmuring on its pebbly bound, + The unforgotten swell and roar + Of waves on thy familiar shore; + And saw, amidst the curtained gloom + And quiet of his lonely room, + Thy sunset scenes before him pass; + As, in Agrippa's magic glass, + The loved and lost arose to view, + Remembered groves in greenness grew, + Bathed still in childhood's morning dew, + Along whose bowers of beauty swept + Whatever Memory's mourners wept, + Sweet faces, which the charnel kept, + Young, gentle eyes, which long had slept; + And while the gazer leaned to trace, + More near, some dear familiar face, + He wept to find the vision flown,-- + A phantom and a dream alone! + + 1841. + + + + +HAMPTON BEACH + + The sunlight glitters keen and bright, + Where, miles away, + Lies stretching to my dazzled sight + A luminous belt, a misty light, + Beyond the dark pine bluffs and wastes of sandy gray. + + The tremulous shadow of the Sea! + Against its ground + Of silvery light, rock, hill, and tree, + Still as a picture, clear and free, + With varying outline mark the coast for miles around. + + On--on--we tread with loose-flung rein + Our seaward way, + Through dark-green fields and blossoming grain, + Where the wild brier-rose skirts the lane, + And bends above our heads the flowering locust spray. + + Ha! like a kind hand on my brow + Comes this fresh breeze, + Cooling its dull and feverish glow, + While through my being seems to flow + The breath of a new life, the healing of the seas! + + Now rest we, where this grassy mound + His feet hath set + In the great waters, which have bound + His granite ankles greenly round + With long and tangled moss, and weeds with cool spray wet. + + Good-by to Pain and Care! I take + Mine ease to-day + Here where these sunny waters break, + And ripples this keen breeze, I shake + All burdens from the heart, all weary thoughts away. + + I draw a freer breath, I seem + Like all I see-- + Waves in the sun, the white-winged gleam + Of sea-birds in the slanting beam, + And far-off sails which flit before the south-wind free. + + So when Time's veil shall fall asunder, + The soul may know + No fearful change, nor sudden wonder, + Nor sink the weight of mystery under, + But with the upward rise, and with the vastness grow. + + And all we shrink from now may seem + No new revealing; + Familiar as our childhood's stream, + Or pleasant memory of a dream + The loved and cherished Past upon the new life stealing. + + Serene and mild the untried light + May have its dawning; + And, as in summer's northern night + The evening and the dawn unite, + The sunset hues of Time blend with the soul's new morning. + + I sit alone; in foam and spray + Wave after wave + Breaks on the rocks which, stern and gray, + Shoulder the broken tide away, + Or murmurs hoarse and strong through mossy cleft and cave. + + What heed I of the dusty land + And noisy town? + I see the mighty deep expand + From its white line of glimmering sand + To where the blue of heaven on bluer waves shuts down! + + In listless quietude of mind, + I yield to all + The change of cloud and wave and wind + And passive on the flood reclined, + I wander with the waves, and with them rise and fall. + + But look, thou dreamer! wave and shore + In shadow lie; + The night-wind warns me back once more + To where, my native hill-tops o'er, + Bends like an arch of fire the glowing sunset sky. + + So then, beach, bluff, and wave, farewell! + I bear with me + No token stone nor glittering shell, + But long and oft shall Memory tell + Of this brief thoughtful hour of musing by the Sea. + + 1843. + + + + +A DREAM OF SUMMER. + + Bland as the morning breath of June + The southwest breezes play; + And, through its haze, the winter noon + Seems warm as summer's day. + The snow-plumed Angel of the North + Has dropped his icy spear; + Again the mossy earth looks forth, + Again the streams gush clear. + + The fox his hillside cell forsakes, + The muskrat leaves his nook, + The bluebird in the meadow brakes + Is singing with the brook. + "Bear up, O Mother Nature!" cry + Bird, breeze, and streamlet free; + "Our winter voices prophesy + Of summer days to thee!" + + So, in those winters of the soul, + By bitter blasts and drear + O'erswept from Memory's frozen pole, + Will sunny days appear. + Reviving Hope and Faith, they show + The soul its living powers, + And how beneath the winter's snow + Lie germs of summer flowers! + + The Night is mother of the Day, + The Winter of the Spring, + And ever upon old Decay + The greenest mosses cling. + Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, + Through showers the sunbeams fall; + For God, who loveth all His works, + Has left His hope with all! + + 4th 1st month, 1847. + + + + +THE LAKESIDE + + The shadows round the inland sea + Are deepening into night; + Slow up the slopes of Ossipee + They chase the lessening light. + Tired of the long day's blinding heat, + I rest my languid eye, + Lake of the Hills! where, cool and sweet, + Thy sunset waters lie! + + Along the sky, in wavy lines, + O'er isle and reach and bay, + Green-belted with eternal pines, + The mountains stretch away. + Below, the maple masses sleep + Where shore with water blends, + While midway on the tranquil deep + The evening light descends. + + So seemed it when yon hill's red crown, + Of old, the Indian trod, + And, through the sunset air, looked down + Upon the Smile of God. + To him of light and shade the laws + No forest skeptic taught; + Their living and eternal Cause + His truer instinct sought. + + He saw these mountains in the light + Which now across them shines; + This lake, in summer sunset bright, + Walled round with sombering pines. + God near him seemed; from earth and skies + His loving voice he beard, + As, face to face, in Paradise, + Man stood before the Lord. + + Thanks, O our Father! that, like him, + Thy tender love I see, + In radiant hill and woodland dim, + And tinted sunset sea. + For not in mockery dost Thou fill + Our earth with light and grace; + Thou hid'st no dark and cruel will + Behind Thy smiling face! + + 1849. + + + + +AUTUMN THOUGHTS + + Gone hath the Spring, with all its flowers, + And gone the Summer's pomp and show, + And Autumn, in his leafless bowers, + Is waiting for the Winter's snow. + + I said to Earth, so cold and gray, + "An emblem of myself thou art." + "Not so," the Earth did seem to say, + "For Spring shall warm my frozen heart." + I soothe my wintry sleep with dreams + Of warmer sun and softer rain, + And wait to hear the sound of streams + And songs of merry birds again. + + But thou, from whom the Spring hath gone, + For whom the flowers no longer blow, + Who standest blighted and forlorn, + Like Autumn waiting for the snow; + + No hope is thine of sunnier hours, + Thy Winter shall no more depart; + No Spring revive thy wasted flowers, + Nor Summer warm thy frozen heart. + + 1849. + + + + +ON RECEIVING AN EAGLE'S QUILL FROM LAKE SUPERIOR. + + All day the darkness and the cold + Upon my heart have lain, + Like shadows on the winter sky, + Like frost upon the pane; + + But now my torpid fancy wakes, + And, on thy Eagle's plume, + Rides forth, like Sindbad on his bird, + Or witch upon her broom! + + Below me roar the rocking pines, + Before me spreads the lake + Whose long and solemn-sounding waves + Against the sunset break. + + I hear the wild Rice-Eater thresh + The grain he has not sown; + I see, with flashing scythe of fire, + The prairie harvest mown! + + I hear the far-off voyager's horn; + I see the Yankee's trail,-- + His foot on every mountain-pass, + On every stream his sail. + + By forest, lake, and waterfall, + I see his pedler show; + The mighty mingling with the mean, + The lofty with the low. + + He's whittling by St. Mary's Falls, + Upon his loaded wain; + He's measuring o'er the Pictured Rocks, + With eager eyes of gain. + + I hear the mattock in the mine, + The axe-stroke in the dell, + The clamor from the Indian lodge, + The Jesuit chapel bell! + + I see the swarthy trappers come + From Mississippi's springs; + And war-chiefs with their painted brows, + And crests of eagle wings. + + Behind the scared squaw's birch canoe, + The steamer smokes and raves; + And city lots are staked for sale + Above old Indian graves. + + I hear the tread of pioneers + Of nations yet to be; + The first low wash of waves, where soon + Shall roll a human sea. + + The rudiments of empire here + Are plastic yet and warm; + The chaos of a mighty world + Is rounding into form! + + Each rude and jostling fragment soon + Its fitting place shall find,-- + The raw material of a State, + Its muscle and its mind! + + And, westering still, the star which leads + The New World in its train + Has tipped with fire the icy spears + Of many a mountain chain. + + The snowy cones of Oregon + Are kindling on its way; + And California's golden sands + Gleam brighter in its ray! + + Then blessings on thy eagle quill, + As, wandering far and wide, + I thank thee for this twilight dream + And Fancy's airy ride! + + Yet, welcomer than regal plumes, + Which Western trappers find, + Thy free and pleasant thoughts, chance sown, + Like feathers on the wind. + + Thy symbol be the mountain-bird, + Whose glistening quill I hold; + Thy home the ample air of hope, + And memory's sunset gold! + + In thee, let joy with duty join, + And strength unite with love, + The eagle's pinions folding round + The warm heart of the dove! + + So, when in darkness sleeps the vale + Where still the blind bird clings + The sunshine of the upper sky + Shall glitter on thy wings! + + 1849. + + + + +APRIL. + + "The spring comes slowly up this way." + Christabel. + + + 'T is the noon of the spring-time, yet never a bird + In the wind-shaken elm or the maple is heard; + For green meadow-grasses wide levels of snow, + And blowing of drifts where the crocus should blow; + Where wind-flower and violet, amber and white, + On south-sloping brooksides should smile in the light, + O'er the cold winter-beds of their late-waking roots + The frosty flake eddies, the ice-crystal shoots; + And, longing for light, under wind-driven heaps, + Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps, + Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers, + With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers + We wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south! + For the touch of thy light wings, the kiss of thy mouth; + For the yearly evangel thou bearest from God, + Resurrection and life to the graves of the sod! + Up our long river-valley, for days, have not ceased + The wail and the shriek of the bitter northeast, + Raw and chill, as if winnowed through ices and snow, + All the way from the land of the wild Esquimau, + Until all our dreams of the land of the blest, + Like that red hunter's, turn to the sunny southwest. + O soul of the spring-time, its light and its breath, + Bring warmth to this coldness, bring life to this death; + Renew the great miracle; let us behold + The stone from the mouth of the sepulchre rolled, + And Nature, like Lazarus, rise, as of old! + Let our faith, which in darkness and coldness has lain, + Revive with the warmth and the brightness again, + And in blooming of flower and budding of tree + The symbols and types of our destiny see; + The life of the spring-time, the life of the whole, + And, as sun to the sleeping earth, love to the soul! + + 1852. + + + + +PICTURES + + + I. + + Light, warmth, and sprouting greenness, and o'er all + Blue, stainless, steel-bright ether, raining down + Tranquillity upon the deep-hushed town, + The freshening meadows, and the hillsides brown; + Voice of the west-wind from the hills of pine, + And the brimmed river from its distant fall, + Low hum of bees, and joyous interlude + Of bird-songs in the streamlet-skirting wood,-- + Heralds and prophecies of sound and sight, + Blessed forerunners of the warmth and light, + Attendant angels to the house of prayer, + With reverent footsteps keeping pace with mine,-- + Once more, through God's great love, with you I share + A morn of resurrection sweet and fair + As that which saw, of old, in Palestine, + Immortal Love uprising in fresh bloom + From the dark night and winter of the tomb! + + 2d, 5th mo., 1852. + + + II. + + White with its sun-bleached dust, the pathway winds + Before me; dust is on the shrunken grass, + And on the trees beneath whose boughs I pass; + Frail screen against the Hunter of the sky, + Who, glaring on me with his lidless eye, + While mounting with his dog-star high and higher + Ambushed in light intolerable, unbinds + The burnished quiver of his shafts of fire. + Between me and the hot fields of his South + A tremulous glow, as from a furnace-mouth, + Glimmers and swims before my dazzled sight, + As if the burning arrows of his ire + Broke as they fell, and shattered into light; + Yet on my cheek I feel the western wind, + And hear it telling to the orchard trees, + And to the faint and flower-forsaken bees, + Tales of fair meadows, green with constant streams, + And mountains rising blue and cool behind, + Where in moist dells the purple orchis gleams, + And starred with white the virgin's bower is twined. + So the o'erwearied pilgrim, as he fares + Along life's summer waste, at times is fanned, + Even at noontide, by the cool, sweet airs + Of a serener and a holier land, + Fresh as the morn, and as the dewfall bland. + Breath of the blessed Heaven for which we pray, + Blow from the eternal hills! make glad our earthly way! + + 8th mo., 1852. + + + + +SUMMER BY THE LAKESIDE + +LAKE WINNIPESAUKEE. + + + I. NOON. + + White clouds, whose shadows haunt the deep, + Light mists, whose soft embraces keep + The sunshine on the hills asleep! + + O isles of calm! O dark, still wood! + And stiller skies that overbrood + Your rest with deeper quietude! + + O shapes and hues, dim beckoning, through + Yon mountain gaps, my longing view + Beyond the purple and the blue, + + To stiller sea and greener land, + And softer lights and airs more bland, + And skies,--the hollow of God's hand! + + Transfused through you, O mountain friends! + With mine your solemn spirit blends, + And life no more hath separate ends. + + I read each misty mountain sign, + I know the voice of wave and pine, + And I am yours, and ye are mine. + + Life's burdens fall, its discords cease, + I lapse into the glad release + Of Nature's own exceeding peace. + + O welcome calm of heart and mind! + As falls yon fir-tree's loosened rind + To leave a tenderer growth behind, + + So fall the weary years away; + A child again, my head I lay + Upon the lap of this sweet day. + + This western wind hath Lethean powers, + Yon noonday cloud nepenthe showers, + The lake is white with lotus-flowers! + + Even Duty's voice is faint and low, + And slumberous Conscience, waking slow, + Forgets her blotted scroll to show. + + The Shadow which pursues us all, + Whose ever-nearing steps appall, + Whose voice we hear behind us call,-- + + That Shadow blends with mountain gray, + It speaks but what the light waves say,-- + Death walks apart from Fear to-day! + + Rocked on her breast, these pines and I + Alike on Nature's love rely; + And equal seems to live or die. + + Assured that He whose presence fills + With light the spaces of these hills + No evil to His creatures wills, + + The simple faith remains, that He + Will do, whatever that may be, + The best alike for man and tree. + + What mosses over one shall grow, + What light and life the other know, + Unanxious, leaving Him to show. + + + II. EVENING. + + Yon mountain's side is black with night, + While, broad-orhed, o'er its gleaming crown + The moon, slow-rounding into sight, + On the hushed inland sea looks down. + + How start to light the clustering isles, + Each silver-hemmed! How sharply show + The shadows of their rocky piles, + And tree-tops in the wave below! + + How far and strange the mountains seem, + Dim-looming through the pale, still light + The vague, vast grouping of a dream, + They stretch into the solemn night. + + Beneath, lake, wood, and peopled vale, + Hushed by that presence grand and grave, + Are silent, save the cricket's wail, + And low response of leaf and wave. + + Fair scenes! whereto the Day and Night + Make rival love, I leave ye soon, + What time before the eastern light + The pale ghost of the setting moon + + Shall hide behind yon rocky spines, + And the young archer, Morn, shall break + His arrows on the mountain pines, + And, golden-sandalled, walk the lake! + + Farewell! around this smiling bay + Gay-hearted Health, and Life in bloom, + With lighter steps than mine, may stray + In radiant summers yet to come. + + But none shall more regretful leave + These waters and these hills than I + Or, distant, fonder dream how eve + Or dawn is painting wave and sky; + + How rising moons shine sad and mild + On wooded isle and silvering bay; + Or setting suns beyond the piled + And purple mountains lead the day; + + Nor laughing girl, nor bearding boy, + Nor full-pulsed manhood, lingering here, + Shall add, to life's abounding joy, + The charmed repose to suffering dear. + + Still waits kind Nature to impart + Her choicest gifts to such as gain + An entrance to her loving heart + Through the sharp discipline of pain. + + Forever from the Hand that takes + One blessing from us others fall; + And, soon or late, our Father makes + His perfect recompense to all! + + Oh, watched by Silence and the Night, + And folded in the strong embrace + Of the great mountains, with the light + Of the sweet heavens upon thy face, + + Lake of the Northland! keep thy dower + Of beauty still, and while above + Thy solemn mountains speak of power, + Be thou the mirror of God's love. + + 1853. + + + + +THE FRUIT-GIFT. + + Last night, just as the tints of autumn's sky + Of sunset faded from our hills and streams, + I sat, vague listening, lapped in twilight dreams, + To the leaf's rustle, and the cricket's cry. + + Then, like that basket, flush with summer fruit, + Dropped by the angels at the Prophet's foot, + Came, unannounced, a gift of clustered sweetness, + Full-orbed, and glowing with the prisoned beams + Of summery suns, and rounded to completeness + By kisses of the south-wind and the dew. + Thrilled with a glad surprise, methought I knew + The pleasure of the homeward-turning Jew, + When Eshcol's clusters on his shoulders lay, + Dropping their sweetness on his desert way. + + I said, "This fruit beseems no world of sin. + Its parent vine, rooted in Paradise, + O'ercrept the wall, and never paid the price + Of the great mischief,--an ambrosial tree, + Eden's exotic, somehow smuggled in, + To keep the thorns and thistles company." + Perchance our frail, sad mother plucked in haste + A single vine-slip as she passed the gate, + Where the dread sword alternate paled and burned, + And the stern angel, pitying her fate, + Forgave the lovely trespasser, and turned + Aside his face of fire; and thus the waste + And fallen world hath yet its annual taste + Of primal good, to prove of sin the cost, + And show by one gleaned ear the mighty harvest lost. + + 1854. + + + + +FLOWERS IN WINTER + +PAINTED UPON A PORTE LIVRE. + + How strange to greet, this frosty morn, + In graceful counterfeit of flowers, + These children of the meadows, born + Of sunshine and of showers! + + How well the conscious wood retains + The pictures of its flower-sown home, + The lights and shades, the purple stains, + And golden hues of bloom! + + It was a happy thought to bring + To the dark season's frost and rime + This painted memory of spring, + This dream of summer-time. + + Our hearts are lighter for its sake, + Our fancy's age renews its youth, + And dim-remembered fictions take + The guise of--present truth. + + A wizard of the Merrimac,-- + So old ancestral legends say, + Could call green leaf and blossom back + To frosted stem and spray. + + The dry logs of the cottage wall, + Beneath his touch, put out their leaves + The clay-bound swallow, at his call, + Played round the icy eaves. + + The settler saw his oaken flail + Take bud, and bloom before his eyes; + From frozen pools he saw the pale, + Sweet summer lilies rise. + + To their old homes, by man profaned, + Came the sad dryads, exiled long, + And through their leafy tongues complained + Of household use and wrong. + + The beechen platter sprouted wild, + The pipkin wore its old-time green + The cradle o'er the sleeping child + Became a leafy screen. + + Haply our gentle friend hath met, + While wandering in her sylvan quest, + Haunting his native woodlands yet, + That Druid of the West; + + And, while the dew on leaf and flower + Glistened in moonlight clear and still, + Learned the dusk wizard's spell of power, + And caught his trick of skill. + + But welcome, be it new or old, + The gift which makes the day more bright, + And paints, upon the ground of cold + And darkness, warmth and light. + + Without is neither gold nor green; + Within, for birds, the birch-logs sing; + Yet, summer-like, we sit between + The autumn and the spring. + + The one, with bridal blush of rose, + And sweetest breath of woodland balm, + And one whose matron lips unclose + In smiles of saintly calm. + + Fill soft and deep, O winter snow! + The sweet azalea's oaken dells, + And hide the bank where roses blow, + And swing the azure bells! + + O'erlay the amber violet's leaves, + The purple aster's brookside home, + Guard all the flowers her pencil gives + A life beyond their bloom. + + And she, when spring comes round again, + By greening slope and singing flood + Shall wander, seeking, not in vain, + Her darlings of the wood. + + 1855. + + + + +THE MAYFLOWERS + +The trailing arbutus, or mayflower, grows abundantly in the vicinity of +Plymouth, and was the first flower that greeted the Pilgrims after their +fearful winter. The name mayflower was familiar in England, as the +application of it to the historic vessel shows, but it was applied by +the English, and still is, to the hawthorn. Its use in New England in +connection with _Epigma repens _dates from a very early day, some +claiming that the first Pilgrims so used it, in affectionate memory of +the vessel and its English flower association. + + Sad Mayflower! watched by winter stars, + And nursed by winter gales, + With petals of the sleeted spars, + And leaves of frozen sails! + + What had she in those dreary hours, + Within her ice-rimmed bay, + In common with the wild-wood flowers, + The first sweet smiles of May? + + Yet, "God be praised!" the Pilgrim said, + Who saw the blossoms peer + Above the brown leaves, dry and dead, + "Behold our Mayflower here!" + + "God wills it: here our rest shall be, + Our years of wandering o'er; + For us the Mayflower of the sea + Shall spread her sails no more." + + O sacred flowers of faith and hope, + As sweetly now as then + Ye bloom on many a birchen slope, + In many a pine-dark glen. + + Behind the sea-wall's rugged length, + Unchanged, your leaves unfold, + Like love behind the manly strength + Of the brave hearts of old. + + So live the fathers in their sons, + Their sturdy faith be ours, + And ours the love that overruns + Its rocky strength with flowers! + + The Pilgrim's wild and wintry day + Its shadow round us draws; + The Mayflower of his stormy bay, + Our Freedom's struggling cause. + + But warmer suns erelong shall bring + To life the frozen sod; + And through dead leaves of hope shall spring + Afresh the flowers of God! + + 1856. + + + + +THE LAST WALK IN AUTUMN. + + I. + O'er the bare woods, whose outstretched hands + Plead with the leaden heavens in vain, + I see, beyond the valley lands, + The sea's long level dim with rain. + Around me all things, stark and dumb, + Seem praying for the snows to come, + And, for the summer bloom and greenness gone, + With winter's sunset lights and dazzling morn atone. + + II. + Along the river's summer walk, + The withered tufts of asters nod; + And trembles on its arid stalk + The boar plume of the golden-rod. + And on a ground of sombre fir, + And azure-studded juniper, + The silver birch its buds of purple shows, + And scarlet berries tell where bloomed the sweet wild-rose! + + III. + With mingled sound of horns and bells, + A far-heard clang, the wild geese fly, + Storm-sent, from Arctic moors and fells, + Like a great arrow through the sky, + Two dusky lines converged in one, + Chasing the southward-flying sun; + While the brave snow-bird and the hardy jay + Call to them from the pines, as if to bid them stay. + + IV. + I passed this way a year ago + The wind blew south; the noon of day + Was warm as June's; and save that snow + Flecked the low mountains far away, + And that the vernal-seeming breeze + Mocked faded grass and leafless trees, + I might have dreamed of summer as I lay, + Watching the fallen leaves with the soft wind at play. + + V. + Since then, the winter blasts have piled + The white pagodas of the snow + On these rough slopes, and, strong and wild, + Yon river, in its overflow + Of spring-time rain and sun, set free, + Crashed with its ices to the sea; + And over these gray fields, then green and gold, + The summer corn has waved, the thunder's organ rolled. + + VI. + Rich gift of God! A year of time + What pomp of rise and shut of day, + What hues wherewith our Northern clime + Makes autumn's dropping woodlands gay, + What airs outblown from ferny dells, + And clover-bloom and sweetbrier smells, + What songs of brooks and birds, what fruits and flowers, + Green woods and moonlit snows, have in its round been ours! + + VII. + I know not how, in other lands, + The changing seasons come and go; + What splendors fall on Syrian sands, + What purple lights on Alpine snow! + Nor how the pomp of sunrise waits + On Venice at her watery gates; + A dream alone to me is Arno's vale, + And the Alhambra's halls are but a traveller's tale. + + VIII. + Yet, on life's current, he who drifts + Is one with him who rows or sails + And he who wanders widest lifts + No more of beauty's jealous veils + Than he who from his doorway sees + The miracle of flowers and trees, + Feels the warm Orient in the noonday air, + And from cloud minarets hears the sunset call to prayer! + + IX. + The eye may well be glad that looks + Where Pharpar's fountains rise and fall; + But he who sees his native brooks + Laugh in the sun, has seen them all. + The marble palaces of Ind + Rise round him in the snow and wind; + From his lone sweetbrier Persian Hafiz smiles, + And Rome's cathedral awe is in his woodland aisles. + + X. + And thus it is my fancy blends + The near at hand and far and rare; + And while the same horizon bends + Above the silver-sprinkled hair + Which flashed the light of morning skies + On childhood's wonder-lifted eyes, + Within its round of sea and sky and field, + Earth wheels with all her zones, the Kosmos stands revealed. + + XI. + And thus the sick man on his bed, + The toiler to his task-work bound, + Behold their prison-walls outspread, + Their clipped horizon widen round! + While freedom-giving fancy waits, + Like Peter's angel at the gates, + The power is theirs to baffle care and pain, + To bring the lost world back, and make it theirs again! + + XII. + What lack of goodly company, + When masters of the ancient lyre + Obey my call, and trace for me + Their words of mingled tears and fire! + I talk with Bacon, grave and wise, + I read the world with Pascal's eyes; + And priest and sage, with solemn brows austere, + And poets, garland-bound, the Lords of Thought, draw near. + + XIII. + Methinks, O friend, I hear thee say, + "In vain the human heart we mock; + Bring living guests who love the day, + Not ghosts who fly at crow of cock! + The herbs we share with flesh and blood + Are better than ambrosial food + With laurelled shades." I grant it, nothing loath, + But doubly blest is he who can partake of both. + + XIV. + He who might Plato's banquet grace, + Have I not seen before me sit, + And watched his puritanic face, + With more than Eastern wisdom lit? + Shrewd mystic! who, upon the back + Of his Poor Richard's Almanac, + Writing the Sufi's song, the Gentoo's dream, + Links Manu's age of thought to Fulton's age of steam! + + XV. + Here too, of answering love secure, + Have I not welcomed to my hearth + The gentle pilgrim troubadour, + Whose songs have girdled half the earth; + Whose pages, like the magic mat + Whereon the Eastern lover sat, + Have borne me over Rhine-land's purple vines, + And Nubia's tawny sands, and Phrygia's mountain pines! + + XVI. + And he, who to the lettered wealth + Of ages adds the lore unpriced, + The wisdom and the moral health, + The ethics of the school of Christ; + The statesman to his holy trust, + As the Athenian archon, just, + Struck down, exiled like him for truth alone, + Has he not graced my home with beauty all his own? + + XVII. + What greetings smile, what farewells wave, + What loved ones enter and depart! + The good, the beautiful, the brave, + The Heaven-lent treasures of the heart! + How conscious seems the frozen sod + And beechen slope whereon they trod + The oak-leaves rustle, and the dry grass bends + Beneath the shadowy feet of lost or absent friends. + + XVIII. + Then ask not why to these bleak hills + I cling, as clings the tufted moss, + To bear the winter's lingering chills, + The mocking spring's perpetual loss. + I dream of lands where summer smiles, + And soft winds blow from spicy isles, + But scarce would Ceylon's breath of flowers be sweet, + Could I not feel thy soil, New England, at my feet! + + XIX. + At times I long for gentler skies, + And bathe in dreams of softer air, + But homesick tears would fill the eyes + That saw the Cross without the Bear. + The pine must whisper to the palm, + The north-wind break the tropic calm; + And with the dreamy languor of the Line, + The North's keen virtue blend, and strength to beauty join. + + XX. + Better to stem with heart and hand + The roaring tide of life, than lie, + Unmindful, on its flowery strand, + Of God's occasions drifting by + Better with naked nerve to bear + The needles of this goading air, + Than, in the lap of sensual ease, forego + The godlike power to do, the godlike aim to know. + + XXI. + Home of my heart! to me more fair + Than gay Versailles or Windsor's halls, + The painted, shingly town-house where + The freeman's vote for Freedom falls! + The simple roof where prayer is made, + Than Gothic groin and colonnade; + The living temple of the heart of man, + Than Rome's sky-mocking vault, or many-spired Milan! + + XXII. + More dear thy equal village schools, + Where rich and poor the Bible read, + Than classic halls where Priestcraft rules, + And Learning wears the chains of Creed; + Thy glad Thanksgiving, gathering in + The scattered sheaves of home and kin, + Than the mad license ushering Lenten pains, + Or holidays of slaves who laugh and dance in chains. + + XXIII. + And sweet homes nestle in these dales, + And perch along these wooded swells; + And, blest beyond Arcadian vales, + They hear the sound of Sabbath bells! + Here dwells no perfect man sublime, + Nor woman winged before her time, + But with the faults and follies of the race, + Old home-bred virtues hold their not unhonored place. + + XXIV. + Here manhood struggles for the sake + Of mother, sister, daughter, wife, + The graces and the loves which make + The music of the march of life; + And woman, in her daily round + Of duty, walks on holy ground. + No unpaid menial tills the soil, nor here + Is the bad lesson learned at human rights to sneer. + + XXV. + Then let the icy north-wind blow + The trumpets of the coming storm, + To arrowy sleet and blinding snow + Yon slanting lines of rain transform. + Young hearts shall hail the drifted cold, + As gayly as I did of old; + And I, who watch them through the frosty pane, + Unenvious, live in them my boyhood o'er again. + + XXVI. + And I will trust that He who heeds + The life that hides in mead and wold, + Who hangs yon alder's crimson beads, + And stains these mosses green and gold, + Will still, as He hath done, incline + His gracious care to me and mine; + Grant what we ask aright, from wrong debar, + And, as the earth grows dark, make brighter every star! + + XXVII. + I have not seen, I may not see, + My hopes for man take form in fact, + But God will give the victory + In due time; in that faith I act. + And lie who sees the future sure, + The baffling present may endure, + And bless, meanwhile, the unseen Hand that leads + The heart's desires beyond the halting step of deeds. + + XXVIII. + And thou, my song, I send thee forth, + Where harsher songs of mine have flown; + Go, find a place at home and hearth + Where'er thy singer's name is known; + Revive for him the kindly thought + Of friends; and they who love him not, + Touched by some strain of thine, perchance may take + The hand he proffers all, and thank him for thy sake. + + 1857. + + + + +THE FIRST FLOWERS + + For ages on our river borders, + These tassels in their tawny bloom, + And willowy studs of downy silver, + Have prophesied of Spring to come. + + For ages have the unbound waters + Smiled on them from their pebbly hem, + And the clear carol of the robin + And song of bluebird welcomed them. + + But never yet from smiling river, + Or song of early bird, have they + Been greeted with a gladder welcome + Than whispers from my heart to-day. + + They break the spell of cold and darkness, + The weary watch of sleepless pain; + And from my heart, as from the river, + The ice of winter melts again. + + Thanks, Mary! for this wild-wood token + Of Freya's footsteps drawing near; + Almost, as in the rune of Asgard, + The growing of the grass I hear. + + It is as if the pine-trees called me + From ceiled room and silent books, + To see the dance of woodland shadows, + And hear the song of April brooks! + + As in the old Teutonic ballad + Of Odenwald live bird and tree, + Together live in bloom and music, + I blend in song thy flowers and thee. + + Earth's rocky tablets bear forever + The dint of rain and small bird's track + Who knows but that my idle verses + May leave some trace by Merrimac! + + The bird that trod the mellow layers + Of the young earth is sought in vain; + The cloud is gone that wove the sandstone, + From God's design, with threads of rain! + + So, when this fluid age we live in + Shall stiffen round my careless rhyme, + Who made the vagrant tracks may puzzle + The savants of the coming time; + + And, following out their dim suggestions, + Some idly-curious hand may draw + My doubtful portraiture, as Cuvier + Drew fish and bird from fin and claw. + + And maidens in the far-off twilights, + Singing my words to breeze and stream, + Shall wonder if the old-time Mary + Were real, or the rhymer's dream! + + 1st 3d mo., 1857. + + + + +THE OLD BURYING-GROUND. + + Our vales are sweet with fern and rose, + Our hills are maple-crowned; + But not from them our fathers chose + The village burying-ground. + + The dreariest spot in all the land + To Death they set apart; + With scanty grace from Nature's hand, + And none from that of Art. + + A winding wall of mossy stone, + Frost-flung and broken, lines + A lonesome acre thinly grown + With grass and wandering vines. + + Without the wall a birch-tree shows + Its drooped and tasselled head; + Within, a stag-horned sumach grows, + Fern-leafed, with spikes of red. + + There, sheep that graze the neighboring plain + Like white ghosts come and go, + The farm-horse drags his fetlock chain, + The cow-bell tinkles slow. + + Low moans the river from its bed, + The distant pines reply; + Like mourners shrinking from the dead, + They stand apart and sigh. + + Unshaded smites the summer sun, + Unchecked the winter blast; + The school-girl learns the place to shun, + With glances backward cast. + + For thus our fathers testified, + That he might read who ran, + The emptiness of human pride, + The nothingness of man. + + They dared not plant the grave with flowers, + Nor dress the funeral sod, + Where, with a love as deep as ours, + They left their dead with God. + + The hard and thorny path they kept + From beauty turned aside; + Nor missed they over those who slept + The grace to life denied. + + Yet still the wilding flowers would blow, + The golden leaves would fall, + The seasons come, the seasons go, + And God be good to all. + + Above the graves the' blackberry hung + In bloom and green its wreath, + And harebells swung as if they rung + The chimes of peace beneath. + + The beauty Nature loves to share, + The gifts she hath for all, + The common light, the common air, + O'ercrept the graveyard's wall. + + It knew the glow of eventide, + The sunrise and the noon, + And glorified and sanctified + It slept beneath the moon. + + With flowers or snow-flakes for its sod, + Around the seasons ran, + And evermore the love of God + Rebuked the fear of man. + + We dwell with fears on either hand, + Within a daily strife, + And spectral problems waiting stand + Before the gates of life. + + The doubts we vainly seek to solve, + The truths we know, are one; + The known and nameless stars revolve + Around the Central Sun. + + And if we reap as we have sown, + And take the dole we deal, + The law of pain is love alone, + The wounding is to heal. + + Unharmed from change to change we glide, + We fall as in our dreams; + The far-off terror at our side + A smiling angel seems. + + Secure on God's all-tender heart + Alike rest great and small; + Why fear to lose our little part, + When He is pledged for all? + + O fearful heart and troubled brain + Take hope and strength from this,-- + That Nature never hints in vain, + Nor prophesies amiss. + + Her wild birds sing the same sweet stave, + Her lights and airs are given + Alike to playground and the grave; + And over both is Heaven. + + 1858 + + + + +THE PALM-TREE. + + Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm, + On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm? + Or is it a ship in the breezeless calm? + + A ship whose keel is of palm beneath, + Whose ribs of palm have a palm-bark sheath, + And a rudder of palm it steereth with. + + Branches of palm are its spars and rails, + Fibres of palm are its woven sails, + And the rope is of palm that idly trails! + + What does the good ship bear so well? + The cocoa-nut with its stony shell, + And the milky sap of its inner cell. + + What are its jars, so smooth and fine, + But hollowed nuts, filled with oil and wine, + And the cabbage that ripens under the Line? + + Who smokes his nargileh, cool and calm? + The master, whose cunning and skill could charm + Cargo and ship from the bounteous palm. + + In the cabin he sits on a palm-mat soft, + From a beaker of palm his drink is quaffed, + And a palm-thatch shields from the sun aloft! + + His dress is woven of palmy strands, + And he holds a palm-leaf scroll in his hands, + Traced with the Prophet's wise commands! + + The turban folded about his head + Was daintily wrought of the palm-leaf braid, + And the fan that cools him of palm was made. + + Of threads of palm was the carpet spun + Whereon he kneels when the day is done, + And the foreheads of Islam are bowed as one! + + To him the palm is a gift divine, + Wherein all uses of man combine,-- + House, and raiment, and food, and wine! + + And, in the hour of his great release, + His need of the palm shall only cease + With the shroud wherein he lieth in peace. + + "Allah il Allah!" he sings his psalm, + On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm; + "Thanks to Allah who gives the palm!" + + 1858. + + + + +THE RIVER PATH. + + No bird-song floated down the hill, + The tangled bank below was still; + + No rustle from the birchen stem, + No ripple from the water's hem. + + The dusk of twilight round us grew, + We felt the falling of the dew; + + For, from us, ere the day was done, + The wooded hills shut out the sun. + + But on the river's farther side + We saw the hill-tops glorified,-- + + A tender glow, exceeding fair, + A dream of day without its glare. + + With us the damp, the chill, the gloom + With them the sunset's rosy bloom; + + While dark, through willowy vistas seen, + The river rolled in shade between. + + From out the darkness where we trod, + We gazed upon those bills of God, + + Whose light seemed not of moon or sun. + We spake not, but our thought was one. + + We paused, as if from that bright shore + Beckoned our dear ones gone before; + + And stilled our beating hearts to hear + The voices lost to mortal ear! + + Sudden our pathway turned from night; + The hills swung open to the light; + + Through their green gates the sunshine showed, + A long, slant splendor downward flowed. + + Down glade and glen and bank it rolled; + It bridged the shaded stream with gold; + + And, borne on piers of mist, allied + The shadowy with the sunlit side! + + "So," prayed we, "when our feet draw near + The river dark, with mortal fear, + + "And the night cometh chill with dew, + O Father! let Thy light break through! + + "So let the hills of doubt divide, + So bridge with faith the sunless tide! + + "So let the eyes that fail on earth + On Thy eternal hills look forth; + + "And in Thy beckoning angels know + The dear ones whom we loved below!" + + 1880. + + + +MOUNTAIN PICTURES. + + I. FRANCONIA FROM THE PEMIGEWASSET + + Once more, O Mountains of the North, unveil + Your brows, and lay your cloudy mantles by + And once more, ere the eyes that seek ye fail, + Uplift against the blue walls of the sky + Your mighty shapes, and let the sunshine weave + Its golden net-work in your belting woods, + Smile down in rainbows from your falling floods, + And on your kingly brows at morn and eve + Set crowns of fire! So shall my soul receive + Haply the secret of your calm and strength, + Your unforgotten beauty interfuse + My common life, your glorious shapes and hues + And sun-dropped splendors at my bidding come, + Loom vast through dreams, and stretch in billowy length + From the sea-level of my lowland home! + + They rise before me! Last night's thunder-gust + Roared not in vain: for where its lightnings thrust + Their tongues of fire, the great peaks seem so near, + Burned clean of mist, so starkly bold and clear, + I almost pause the wind in the pines to hear, + The loose rock's fall, the steps of browsing deer. + The clouds that shattered on yon slide-worn walls + And splintered on the rocks their spears of rain + Have set in play a thousand waterfalls, + Making the dusk and silence of the woods + Glad with the laughter of the chasing floods, + And luminous with blown spray and silver gleams, + While, in the vales below, the dry-lipped streams + Sing to the freshened meadow-lands again. + So, let me hope, the battle-storm that beats + The land with hail and fire may pass away + With its spent thunders at the break of day, + Like last night's clouds, and leave, as it retreats, + A greener earth and fairer sky behind, + Blown crystal-clear by Freedom's Northern wind! + + II. MONADNOCK FROM WACHUSET. + + I would I were a painter, for the sake + Of a sweet picture, and of her who led, + A fitting guide, with reverential tread, + Into that mountain mystery. First a lake + Tinted with sunset; next the wavy lines + Of far receding hills; and yet more far, + Monadnock lifting from his night of pines + His rosy forehead to the evening star. + Beside us, purple-zoned, Wachuset laid + His head against the West, whose warm light made + His aureole; and o'er him, sharp and clear, + Like a shaft of lightning in mid-launching stayed, + A single level cloud-line, shone upon + By the fierce glances of the sunken sun, + Menaced the darkness with its golden spear! + + So twilight deepened round us. Still and black + The great woods climbed the mountain at our back; + And on their skirts, where yet the lingering day + On the shorn greenness of the clearing lay, + The brown old farm-house like a bird's-nest hung. + With home-life sounds the desert air was stirred + The bleat of sheep along the hill we heard, + The bucket plashing in the cool, sweet well, + The pasture-bars that clattered as they fell; + Dogs barked, fowls fluttered, cattle lowed; the gate + Of the barn-yard creaked beneath the merry weight + Of sun-brown children, listening, while they swung, + The welcome sound of supper-call to hear; + And down the shadowy lane, in tinklings clear, + The pastoral curfew of the cow-bell rung. + Thus soothed and pleased, our backward path we took, + Praising the farmer's home. He only spake, + Looking into the sunset o'er the lake, + Like one to whom the far-off is most near: + "Yes, most folks think it has a pleasant look; + I love it for my good old mother's sake, + Who lived and died here in the peace of God!" + The lesson of his words we pondered o'er, + As silently we turned the eastern flank + Of the mountain, where its shadow deepest sank, + Doubling the night along our rugged road: + We felt that man was more than his abode,-- + The inward life than Nature's raiment more; + And the warm sky, the sundown-tinted hill, + The forest and the lake, seemed dwarfed and dim + Before the saintly soul, whose human will + Meekly in the Eternal footsteps trod, + Making her homely toil and household ways + An earthly echo of the song of praise + Swelling from angel lips and harps of seraphim. + + 1862. + + + + +THE VANISHERS. + + Sweetest of all childlike dreams + In the simple Indian lore + Still to me the legend seems + Of the shapes who flit before. + + Flitting, passing, seen and gone, + Never reached nor found at rest, + Baffling search, but beckoning on + To the Sunset of the Blest. + + From the clefts of mountain rocks, + Through the dark of lowland firs, + Flash the eyes and flow the locks + Of the mystic Vanishers! + + And the fisher in his skiff, + And the hunter on the moss, + Hear their call from cape and cliff, + See their hands the birch-leaves toss. + + Wistful, longing, through the green + Twilight of the clustered pines, + In their faces rarely seen + Beauty more than mortal shines. + + Fringed with gold their mantles flow + On the slopes of westering knolls; + In the wind they whisper low + Of the Sunset Land of Souls. + + Doubt who may, O friend of mine! + Thou and I have seen them too; + On before with beck and sign + Still they glide, and we pursue. + + More than clouds of purple trail + In the gold of setting day; + More than gleams of wing or sail + Beckon from the sea-mist gray. + + Glimpses of immortal youth, + Gleams and glories seen and flown, + Far-heard voices sweet with truth, + Airs from viewless Eden blown; + + Beauty that eludes our grasp, + Sweetness that transcends our taste, + Loving hands we may not clasp, + Shining feet that mock our haste; + + Gentle eyes we closed below, + Tender voices heard once more, + Smile and call us, as they go + On and onward, still before. + + Guided thus, O friend of mine + Let us walk our little way, + Knowing by each beckoning sign + That we are not quite astray. + + Chase we still, with baffled feet, + Smiling eye and waving hand, + Sought and seeker soon shall meet, + Lost and found, in Sunset Land. + + 1864. + + + + +THE PAGEANT. + + A sound as if from bells of silver, + Or elfin cymbals smitten clear, + Through the frost-pictured panes I hear. + + A brightness which outshines the morning, + A splendor brooking no delay, + Beckons and tempts my feet away. + + I leave the trodden village highway + For virgin snow-paths glimmering through + A jewelled elm-tree avenue; + + Where, keen against the walls of sapphire, + The gleaming tree-bolls, ice-embossed, + Hold up their chandeliers of frost. + + I tread in Orient halls enchanted, + I dream the Saga's dream of caves + Gem-lit beneath the North Sea waves! + + I walk the land of Eldorado, + I touch its mimic garden bowers, + Its silver leaves and diamond flowers! + + The flora of the mystic mine-world + Around me lifts on crystal stems + The petals of its clustered gems! + + What miracle of weird transforming + In this wild work of frost and light, + This glimpse of glory infinite! + + This foregleam of the Holy City + Like that to him of Patmos given, + The white bride coming down from heaven! + + How flash the ranked and mail-clad alders, + Through what sharp-glancing spears of reeds + The brook its muffled water leads! + + Yon maple, like the bush of Horeb, + Burns unconsumed: a white, cold fire + Rays out from every grassy spire. + + Each slender rush and spike of mullein, + Low laurel shrub and drooping fern, + Transfigured, blaze where'er I turn. + + How yonder Ethiopian hemlock + Crowned with his glistening circlet stands! + What jewels light his swarthy hands! + + Here, where the forest opens southward, + Between its hospitable pines, + As through a door, the warm sun shines. + + The jewels loosen on the branches, + And lightly, as the soft winds blow, + Fall, tinkling, on the ice below. + + And through the clashing of their cymbals + I hear the old familiar fall + Of water down the rocky wall, + + Where, from its wintry prison breaking, + In dark and silence hidden long, + The brook repeats its summer song. + + One instant flashing in the sunshine, + Keen as a sabre from its sheath, + Then lost again the ice beneath. + + I hear the rabbit lightly leaping, + The foolish screaming of the jay, + The chopper's axe-stroke far away; + + The clamor of some neighboring barn-yard, + The lazy cock's belated crow, + Or cattle-tramp in crispy snow. + + And, as in some enchanted forest + The lost knight hears his comrades sing, + And, near at hand, their bridles ring,-- + + So welcome I these sounds and voices, + These airs from far-off summer blown, + This life that leaves me not alone. + + For the white glory overawes me; + The crystal terror of the seer + Of Chebar's vision blinds me here. + + Rebuke me not, O sapphire heaven! + Thou stainless earth, lay not on me, + Thy keen reproach of purity, + + If, in this August presence-chamber, + I sigh for summer's leaf-green gloom + And warm airs thick with odorous bloom! + + Let the strange frost-work sink and crumble, + And let the loosened tree-boughs swing, + Till all their bells of silver ring. + + Shine warmly down, thou sun of noontime, + On this chill pageant, melt and move + The winter's frozen heart with love. + + And, soft and low, thou wind south-blowing, + Breathe through a veil of tenderest haze + Thy prophecy of summer days. + + Come with thy green relief of promise, + And to this dead, cold splendor bring + The living jewels of the spring! + + 1869. + + + + +THE PRESSED GENTIAN. + + The time of gifts has come again, + And, on my northern window-pane, + Outlined against the day's brief light, + A Christmas token hangs in sight. + + The wayside travellers, as they pass, + Mark the gray disk of clouded glass; + And the dull blankness seems, perchance, + Folly to their wise ignorance. + + They cannot from their outlook see + The perfect grace it hath for me; + For there the flower, whose fringes through + The frosty breath of autumn blew, + Turns from without its face of bloom + To the warm tropic of my room, + As fair as when beside its brook + The hue of bending skies it took. + + So from the trodden ways of earth, + Seem some sweet souls who veil their worth, + And offer to the careless glance + The clouding gray of circumstance. + They blossom best where hearth-fires burn, + To loving eyes alone they turn + The flowers of inward grace, that hide + Their beauty from the world outside. + + But deeper meanings come to me, + My half-immortal flower, from thee! + Man judges from a partial view, + None ever yet his brother knew; + The Eternal Eye that sees the whole + May better read the darkened soul, + And find, to outward sense denied, + The flower upon its inmost side + + 1872. + + + + +A MYSTERY. + + The river hemmed with leaning trees + Wound through its meadows green; + A low, blue line of mountains showed + The open pines between. + + One sharp, tall peak above them all + Clear into sunlight sprang + I saw the river of my dreams, + The mountains that I sang! + + No clue of memory led me on, + But well the ways I knew; + A feeling of familiar things + With every footstep grew. + + Not otherwise above its crag + Could lean the blasted pine; + Not otherwise the maple hold + Aloft its red ensign. + + So up the long and shorn foot-hills + The mountain road should creep; + So, green and low, the meadow fold + Its red-haired kine asleep. + + The river wound as it should wind; + Their place the mountains took; + The white torn fringes of their clouds + Wore no unwonted look. + + Yet ne'er before that river's rim + Was pressed by feet of mine, + Never before mine eyes had crossed + That broken mountain line. + + A presence, strange at once and known, + Walked with me as my guide; + The skirts of some forgotten life + Trailed noiseless at my side. + + Was it a dim-remembered dream? + Or glimpse through ions old? + The secret which the mountains kept + The river never told. + + But from the vision ere it passed + A tender hope I drew, + And, pleasant as a dawn of spring, + The thought within me grew, + + That love would temper every change, + And soften all surprise, + And, misty with the dreams of earth, + The hills of Heaven arise. + + 1873. + + + + +A SEA DREAM. + + We saw the slow tides go and come, + The curving surf-lines lightly drawn, + The gray rocks touched with tender bloom + Beneath the fresh-blown rose of dawn. + + We saw in richer sunsets lost + The sombre pomp of showery noons; + And signalled spectral sails that crossed + The weird, low light of rising moons. + + On stormy eves from cliff and head + We saw the white spray tossed and spurned; + While over all, in gold and red, + Its face of fire the lighthouse turned. + + The rail-car brought its daily crowds, + Half curious, half indifferent, + Like passing sails or floating clouds, + We saw them as they came and went. + + But, one calm morning, as we lay + And watched the mirage-lifted wall + Of coast, across the dreamy bay, + And heard afar the curlew call, + + And nearer voices, wild or tame, + Of airy flock and childish throng, + Up from the water's edge there came + Faint snatches of familiar song. + + Careless we heard the singer's choice + Of old and common airs; at last + The tender pathos of his voice + In one low chanson held us fast. + + A song that mingled joy and pain, + And memories old and sadly sweet; + While, timing to its minor strain, + The waves in lapsing cadence beat. + + . . . . . + + The waves are glad in breeze and sun; + The rocks are fringed with foam; + I walk once more a haunted shore, + A stranger, yet at home, + A land of dreams I roam. + + Is this the wind, the soft sea wind + That stirred thy locks of brown? + Are these the rocks whose mosses knew + The trail of thy light gown, + Where boy and girl sat down? + + I see the gray fort's broken wall, + The boats that rock below; + And, out at sea, the passing sails + We saw so long ago + Rose-red in morning's glow. + + The freshness of the early time + On every breeze is blown; + As glad the sea, as blue the sky,-- + The change is ours alone; + The saddest is my own. + + A stranger now, a world-worn man, + Is he who bears my name; + But thou, methinks, whose mortal life + Immortal youth became, + Art evermore the same. + + Thou art not here, thou art not there, + Thy place I cannot see; + I only know that where thou art + The blessed angels be, + And heaven is glad for thee. + + Forgive me if the evil years + Have left on me their sign; + Wash out, O soul so beautiful, + The many stains of mine + In tears of love divine! + + I could not look on thee and live, + If thou wert by my side; + The vision of a shining one, + The white and heavenly bride, + Is well to me denied. + + But turn to me thy dear girl-face + Without the angel's crown, + The wedded roses of thy lips, + Thy loose hair rippling down + In waves of golden brown. + + Look forth once more through space and time, + And let thy sweet shade fall + In tenderest grace of soul and form + On memory's frescoed wall, + A shadow, and yet all! + + Draw near, more near, forever dear! + Where'er I rest or roam, + Or in the city's crowded streets, + Or by the blown sea foam, + The thought of thee is home! + + . . . . . + + At breakfast hour the singer read + The city news, with comment wise, + Like one who felt the pulse of trade + Beneath his finger fall and rise. + + His look, his air, his curt speech, told + The man of action, not of books, + To whom the corners made in gold + And stocks were more than seaside nooks. + + Of life beneath the life confessed + His song had hinted unawares; + Of flowers in traffic's ledgers pressed, + Of human hearts in bulls and bears. + + But eyes in vain were turned to watch + That face so hard and shrewd and strong; + And ears in vain grew sharp to catch + The meaning of that morning song. + + In vain some sweet-voiced querist sought + To sound him, leaving as she came; + Her baited album only caught + A common, unromantic name. + + No word betrayed the mystery fine, + That trembled on the singer's tongue; + He came and went, and left no sign + Behind him save the song he sung. + + 1874. + + + + +HAZEL BLOSSOMS. + + The summer warmth has left the sky, + The summer songs have died away; + And, withered, in the footpaths lie + The fallen leaves, but yesterday + With ruby and with topaz gay. + + The grass is browning on the hills; + No pale, belated flowers recall + The astral fringes of the rills, + And drearily the dead vines fall, + Frost-blackened, from the roadside wall. + + Yet through the gray and sombre wood, + Against the dusk of fir and pine, + Last of their floral sisterhood, + The hazel's yellow blossoms shine, + The tawny gold of Afric's mine! + + Small beauty hath my unsung flower, + For spring to own or summer hail; + But, in the season's saddest hour, + To skies that weep and winds that wail + Its glad surprisals never fail. + + O days grown cold! O life grown old + No rose of June may bloom again; + But, like the hazel's twisted gold, + Through early frost and latter rain + Shall hints of summer-time remain. + + And as within the hazel's bough + A gift of mystic virtue dwells, + That points to golden ores below, + And in dry desert places tells + Where flow unseen the cool, sweet wells, + + So, in the wise Diviner's hand, + Be mine the hazel's grateful part + To feel, beneath a thirsty land, + The living waters thrill and start, + The beating of the rivulet's heart! + + Sufficeth me the gift to light + With latest bloom the dark, cold days; + To call some hidden spring to sight + That, in these dry and dusty ways, + Shall sing its pleasant song of praise. + + O Love! the hazel-wand may fail, + But thou canst lend the surer spell, + That, passing over Baca's vale, + Repeats the old-time miracle, + And makes the desert-land a well. + + 1874. + + + + +SUNSET ON THE BEARCAMP. + + A gold fringe on the purpling hem + Of hills the river runs, + As down its long, green valley falls + The last of summer's suns. + + Along its tawny gravel-bed + Broad-flowing, swift, and still, + As if its meadow levels felt + The hurry of the hill, + Noiseless between its banks of green + From curve to curve it slips; + The drowsy maple-shadows rest + Like fingers on its lips. + + A waif from Carroll's wildest hills, + Unstoried and unknown; + The ursine legend of its name + Prowls on its banks alone. + Yet flowers as fair its slopes adorn + As ever Yarrow knew, + Or, under rainy Irish skies, + By Spenser's Mulla grew; + And through the gaps of leaning trees + Its mountain cradle shows + The gold against the amethyst, + The green against the rose. + + Touched by a light that hath no name, + A glory never sung, + Aloft on sky and mountain wall + Are God's great pictures hung. + How changed the summits vast and old! + No longer granite-browed, + They melt in rosy mist; the rock + Is softer than the cloud; + The valley holds its breath; no leaf + Of all its elms is twirled + The silence of eternity + Seems falling on the world. + + The pause before the breaking seals + Of mystery is this; + Yon miracle-play of night and day + Makes dumb its witnesses. + What unseen altar crowns the hills + That reach up stair on stair? + What eyes look through, what white wings fan + These purple veils of air? + What Presence from the heavenly heights + To those of earth stoops down? + Not vainly Hellas dreamed of gods + On Ida's snowy crown! + + Slow fades the vision of the sky, + The golden water pales, + And over all the valley-land + A gray-winged vapor sails. + I go the common way of all; + The sunset fires will burn, + The flowers will blow, the river flow, + When I no more return. + No whisper from the mountain pine + Nor lapsing stream shall tell + The stranger, treading where I tread, + Of him who loved them well. + + But beauty seen is never lost, + God's colors all are fast; + The glory of this sunset heaven + Into my soul has passed, + A sense of gladness unconfined + To mortal date or clime; + As the soul liveth, it shall live + Beyond the years of time. + Beside the mystic asphodels + Shall bloom the home-born flowers, + And new horizons flush and glow + With sunset hues of ours. + + Farewell! these smiling hills must wear + Too soon their wintry frown, + And snow-cold winds from off them shake + The maple's red leaves down. + But I shall see a summer sun + Still setting broad and low; + The mountain slopes shall blush and bloom, + The golden water flow. + A lover's claim is mine on all + I see to have and hold,-- + The rose-light of perpetual hills, + And sunsets never cold! + + 1876 + + + + +THE SEEKING OF THE WATERFALL. + + They left their home of summer ease + Beneath the lowland's sheltering trees, + To seek, by ways unknown to all, + The promise of the waterfall. + + Some vague, faint rumor to the vale + Had crept--perchance a hunter's tale-- + Of its wild mirth of waters lost + On the dark woods through which it tossed. + + Somewhere it laughed and sang; somewhere + Whirled in mad dance its misty hair; + But who had raised its veil, or seen + The rainbow skirts of that Undine? + + They sought it where the mountain brook + Its swift way to the valley took; + Along the rugged slope they clomb, + Their guide a thread of sound and foam. + + Height after height they slowly won; + The fiery javelins of the sun + Smote the bare ledge; the tangled shade + With rock and vine their steps delayed. + + But, through leaf-openings, now and then + They saw the cheerful homes of men, + And the great mountains with their wall + Of misty purple girdling all. + + The leaves through which the glad winds blew + Shared the wild dance the waters knew; + And where the shadows deepest fell + The wood-thrush rang his silver bell. + + Fringing the stream, at every turn + Swung low the waving fronds of fern; + From stony cleft and mossy sod + Pale asters sprang, and golden-rod. + + And still the water sang the sweet, + Glad song that stirred its gliding feet, + And found in rock and root the keys + Of its beguiling melodies. + + Beyond, above, its signals flew + Of tossing foam the birch-trees through; + Now seen, now lost, but baffling still + The weary seekers' slackening will. + + Each called to each: "Lo here! Lo there! + Its white scarf flutters in the air!" + They climbed anew; the vision fled, + To beckon higher overhead. + + So toiled they up the mountain-slope + With faint and ever fainter hope; + With faint and fainter voice the brook + Still bade them listen, pause, and look. + + Meanwhile below the day was done; + Above the tall peaks saw the sun + Sink, beam-shorn, to its misty set + Behind the hills of violet. + + "Here ends our quest!" the seekers cried, + "The brook and rumor both have lied! + The phantom of a waterfall + Has led us at its beck and call." + + But one, with years grown wiser, said + "So, always baffled, not misled, + We follow where before us runs + The vision of the shining ones. + + "Not where they seem their signals fly, + Their voices while we listen die; + We cannot keep, however fleet, + The quick time of their winged feet. + + "From youth to age unresting stray + These kindly mockers in our way; + Yet lead they not, the baffling elves, + To something better than themselves? + + "Here, though unreached the goal we sought, + Its own reward our toil has brought: + The winding water's sounding rush, + The long note of the hermit thrush, + + "The turquoise lakes, the glimpse of pond + And river track, and, vast, beyond + Broad meadows belted round with pines, + The grand uplift of mountain lines! + + "What matter though we seek with pain + The garden of the gods in vain, + If lured thereby we climb to greet + Some wayside blossom Eden-sweet? + + "To seek is better than to gain, + The fond hope dies as we attain; + Life's fairest things are those which seem, + The best is that of which we dream. + + "Then let us trust our waterfall + Still flashes down its rocky wall, + With rainbow crescent curved across + Its sunlit spray from moss to moss. + + "And we, forgetful of our pain, + In thought shall seek it oft again; + Shall see this aster-blossomed sod, + This sunshine of the golden-rod, + + "And haply gain, through parting boughs, + Grand glimpses of great mountain brows + Cloud-turbaned, and the sharp steel sheen + Of lakes deep set in valleys green. + + "So failure wins; the consequence + Of loss becomes its recompense; + And evermore the end shall tell + The unreached ideal guided well. + + "Our sweet illusions only die + Fulfilling love's sure prophecy; + And every wish for better things + An undreamed beauty nearer brings. + + "For fate is servitor of love; + Desire and hope and longing prove + The secret of immortal youth, + And Nature cheats us into truth. + + "O kind allurers, wisely sent, + Beguiling with benign intent, + Still move us, through divine unrest, + To seek the loveliest and the best! + + "Go with us when our souls go free, + And, in the clear, white light to be, + Add unto Heaven's beatitude + The old delight of seeking good!" + + 1878. + + + + +THE TRAILING ARBUTUS + + I wandered lonely where the pine-trees made + Against the bitter East their barricade, + And, guided by its sweet + Perfume, I found, within a narrow dell, + The trailing spring flower tinted like a shell + Amid dry leaves and mosses at my feet. + + From under dead boughs, for whose loss the pines + Moaned ceaseless overhead, the blossoming vines + Lifted their glad surprise, + While yet the bluebird smoothed in leafless trees + His feathers ruffled by the chill sea-breeze, + And snow-drifts lingered under April skies. + + As, pausing, o'er the lonely flower I bent, + I thought of lives thus lowly, clogged and pent, + Which yet find room, + Through care and cumber, coldness and decay, + To lend a sweetness to the ungenial day + And make the sad earth happier for their bloom. + + 1879. + + + + +ST. MARTIN'S SUMMER. + +This name in some parts of Europe is given to the season we call Indian +Summer, in honor of the good St. Martin. The title of the poem was +suggested by the fact that the day it refers to was the exact date of +that set apart to the Saint, the 11th of November. + + Though flowers have perished at the touch + Of Frost, the early comer, + I hail the season loved so much, + The good St. Martin's summer. + + O gracious morn, with rose-red dawn, + And thin moon curving o'er it! + The old year's darling, latest born, + More loved than all before it! + + How flamed the sunrise through the pines! + How stretched the birchen shadows, + Braiding in long, wind-wavered lines + The westward sloping meadows! + + The sweet day, opening as a flower + Unfolds its petals tender, + Renews for us at noontide's hour + The summer's tempered splendor. + + The birds are hushed; alone the wind, + That through the woodland searches, + The red-oak's lingering leaves can find, + And yellow plumes of larches. + + But still the balsam-breathing pine + Invites no thought of sorrow, + No hint of loss from air like wine + The earth's content can borrow. + + The summer and the winter here + Midway a truce are holding, + A soft, consenting atmosphere + Their tents of peace enfolding. + + The silent woods, the lonely hills, + Rise solemn in their gladness; + The quiet that the valley fills + Is scarcely joy or sadness. + + How strange! The autumn yesterday + In winter's grasp seemed dying; + On whirling winds from skies of gray + The early snow was flying. + + And now, while over Nature's mood + There steals a soft relenting, + I will not mar the present good, + Forecasting or lamenting. + + My autumn time and Nature's hold + A dreamy tryst together, + And, both grown old, about us fold + The golden-tissued weather. + + I lean my heart against the day + To feel its bland caressing; + I will not let it pass away + Before it leaves its blessing. + + God's angels come not as of old + The Syrian shepherds knew them; + In reddening dawns, in sunset gold, + And warm noon lights I view them. + + Nor need there is, in times like this + When heaven to earth draws nearer, + Of wing or song as witnesses + To make their presence clearer. + + O stream of life, whose swifter flow + Is of the end forewarning, + Methinks thy sundown afterglow + Seems less of night than morning! + + Old cares grow light; aside I lay + The doubts and fears that troubled; + The quiet of the happy day + Within my soul is doubled. + + That clouds must veil this fair sunshine + Not less a joy I find it; + Nor less yon warm horizon line + That winter lurks behind it. + + The mystery of the untried days + I close my eyes from reading; + His will be done whose darkest ways + To light and life are leading! + + Less drear the winter night shall be, + If memory cheer and hearten + Its heavy hours with thoughts of thee, + Sweet summer of St. Martin! + + 1880. + + + + +STORM ON LAKE ASQUAM. + + A cloud, like that the old-time Hebrew saw + On Carmel prophesying rain, began + To lift itself o'er wooded Cardigan, + Growing and blackening. Suddenly, a flaw + + Of chill wind menaced; then a strong blast beat + Down the long valley's murmuring pines, and woke + The noon-dream of the sleeping lake, and broke + Its smooth steel mirror at the mountains' feet. + + Thunderous and vast, a fire-veined darkness swept + Over the rough pine-bearded Asquam range; + A wraith of tempest, wonderful and strange, + From peak to peak the cloudy giant stepped. + + One moment, as if challenging the storm, + Chocorua's tall, defiant sentinel + Looked from his watch-tower; then the shadow fell, + And the wild rain-drift blotted out his form. + + And over all the still unhidden sun, + Weaving its light through slant-blown veils of rain, + Smiled on the trouble, as hope smiles on pain; + And, when the tumult and the strife were done, + + With one foot on the lake and one on land, + Framing within his crescent's tinted streak + A far-off picture of the Melvin peak, + Spent broken clouds the rainbow's angel spanned. + + 1882. + + + + +A SUMMER PILGRIMAGE. + + To kneel before some saintly shrine, + To breathe the health of airs divine, + Or bathe where sacred rivers flow, + The cowled and turbaned pilgrims go. + I too, a palmer, take, as they + With staff and scallop-shell, my way + To feel, from burdening cares and ills, + The strong uplifting of the hills. + + The years are many since, at first, + For dreamed-of wonders all athirst, + I saw on Winnipesaukee fall + The shadow of the mountain wall. + Ah! where are they who sailed with me + The beautiful island-studded sea? + And am I he whose keen surprise + Flashed out from such unclouded eyes? + + Still, when the sun of summer burns, + My longing for the hills returns; + And northward, leaving at my back + The warm vale of the Merrimac, + I go to meet the winds of morn, + Blown down the hill-gaps, mountain-born, + Breathe scent of pines, and satisfy + The hunger of a lowland eye. + + Again I see the day decline + Along a ridged horizon line; + Touching the hill-tops, as a nun + Her beaded rosary, sinks the sun. + One lake lies golden, which shall soon + Be silver in the rising moon; + And one, the crimson of the skies + And mountain purple multiplies. + + With the untroubled quiet blends + The distance-softened voice of friends; + The girl's light laugh no discord brings + To the low song the pine-tree sings; + And, not unwelcome, comes the hail + Of boyhood from his nearing sail. + The human presence breaks no spell, + And sunset still is miracle! + + Calm as the hour, methinks I feel + A sense of worship o'er me steal; + Not that of satyr-charming Pan, + No cult of Nature shaming man, + Not Beauty's self, but that which lives + And shines through all the veils it weaves,-- + Soul of the mountain, lake, and wood, + Their witness to the Eternal Good! + + And if, by fond illusion, here + The earth to heaven seems drawing near, + And yon outlying range invites + To other and serener heights, + Scarce hid behind its topmost swell, + The shining Mounts Delectable + A dream may hint of truth no less + Than the sharp light of wakefulness. + + As through her vale of incense smoke. + Of old the spell-rapt priestess spoke, + More than her heathen oracle, + May not this trance of sunset tell + That Nature's forms of loveliness + Their heavenly archetypes confess, + Fashioned like Israel's ark alone + From patterns in the Mount made known? + + A holier beauty overbroods + These fair and faint similitudes; + Yet not unblest is he who sees + Shadows of God's realities, + And knows beyond this masquerade + Of shape and color, light and shade, + And dawn and set, and wax and wane, + Eternal verities remain. + + O gems of sapphire, granite set! + O hills that charmed horizons fret + I know how fair your morns can break, + In rosy light on isle and lake; + How over wooded slopes can run + The noonday play of cloud and sun, + And evening droop her oriflamme + Of gold and red in still Asquam. + + The summer moons may round again, + And careless feet these hills profane; + These sunsets waste on vacant eyes + The lavish splendor of the skies; + Fashion and folly, misplaced here, + Sigh for their natural atmosphere, + And travelled pride the outlook scorn + Of lesser heights than Matterhorn. + + But let me dream that hill and sky + Of unseen beauty prophesy; + And in these tinted lakes behold + The trailing of the raiment fold + Of that which, still eluding gaze, + Allures to upward-tending ways, + Whose footprints make, wherever found, + Our common earth a holy ground. + + 1883. + + + + +SWEET FERN. + + The subtle power in perfume found + Nor priest nor sibyl vainly learned; + On Grecian shrine or Aztec mound + No censer idly burned. + + That power the old-time worships knew, + The Corybantes' frenzied dance, + The Pythian priestess swooning through + The wonderland of trance. + + And Nature holds, in wood and field, + Her thousand sunlit censers still; + To spells of flower and shrub we yield + Against or with our will. + + I climbed a hill path strange and new + With slow feet, pausing at each turn; + A sudden waft of west wind blew + The breath of the sweet fern. + + That fragrance from my vision swept + The alien landscape; in its stead, + Up fairer hills of youth I stepped, + As light of heart as tread. + + I saw my boyhood's lakelet shine + Once more through rifts of woodland shade; + I knew my river's winding line + By morning mist betrayed. + + With me June's freshness, lapsing brook, + Murmurs of leaf and bee, the call + Of birds, and one in voice and look + In keeping with them all. + + A fern beside the way we went + She plucked, and, smiling, held it up, + While from her hand the wild, sweet scent + I drank as from a cup. + + O potent witchery of smell! + The dust-dry leaves to life return, + And she who plucked them owns the spell + And lifts her ghostly fern. + + Or sense or spirit? Who shall say + What touch the chord of memory thrills? + It passed, and left the August day + Ablaze on lonely hills. + + + + +THE WOOD GIANT + + From Alton Bay to Sandwich Dome, + From Mad to Saco river, + For patriarchs of the primal wood + We sought with vain endeavor. + + And then we said: "The giants old + Are lost beyond retrieval; + This pygmy growth the axe has spared + Is not the wood primeval. + + "Look where we will o'er vale and hill, + How idle are our searches + For broad-girthed maples, wide-limbed oaks, + Centennial pines and birches. + + "Their tortured limbs the axe and saw + Have changed to beams and trestles; + They rest in walls, they float on seas, + They rot in sunken vessels. + + "This shorn and wasted mountain land + Of underbrush and boulder,-- + Who thinks to see its full-grown tree + Must live a century older." + + At last to us a woodland path, + To open sunset leading, + Revealed the Anakim of pines + Our wildest wish exceeding. + + Alone, the level sun before; + Below, the lake's green islands; + Beyond, in misty distance dim, + The rugged Northern Highlands. + + Dark Titan on his Sunset Hill + Of time and change defiant + How dwarfed the common woodland seemed, + Before the old-time giant! + + What marvel that, in simpler days + Of the world's early childhood, + Men crowned with garlands, gifts, and praise + Such monarchs of the wild-wood? + + That Tyrian maids with flower and song + Danced through the hill grove's spaces, + And hoary-bearded Druids found + In woods their holy places? + + With somewhat of that Pagan awe + With Christian reverence blending, + We saw our pine-tree's mighty arms + Above our heads extending. + + We heard his needles' mystic rune, + Now rising, and now dying, + As erst Dodona's priestess heard + The oak leaves prophesying. + + Was it the half-unconscious moan + Of one apart and mateless, + The weariness of unshared power, + The loneliness of greatness? + + O dawns and sunsets, lend to him + Your beauty and your wonder! + Blithe sparrow, sing thy summer song + His solemn shadow under! + + Play lightly on his slender keys, + O wind of summer, waking + For hills like these the sound of seas + On far-off beaches breaking, + + And let the eagle and the crow + Find shelter in his branches, + When winds shake down his winter snow + In silver avalanches. + + The brave are braver for their cheer, + The strongest need assurance, + The sigh of longing makes not less + The lesson of endurance. + + 1885. + + + + +A DAY. + + Talk not of sad November, when a day + Of warm, glad sunshine fills the sky of noon, + And a wind, borrowed from some morn of June, + Stirs the brown grasses and the leafless spray. + + On the unfrosted pool the pillared pines + Lay their long shafts of shadow: the small rill, + Singing a pleasant song of summer still, + A line of silver, down the hill-slope shines. + + Hushed the bird-voices and the hum of bees, + In the thin grass the crickets pipe no more; + But still the squirrel hoards his winter store, + And drops his nut-shells from the shag-bark trees. + + Softly the dark green hemlocks whisper: high + Above, the spires of yellowing larches show, + Where the woodpecker and home-loving crow + And jay and nut-hatch winter's threat defy. + + O gracious beauty, ever new and old! + O sights and sounds of nature, doubly dear + When the low sunshine warns the closing year + Of snow-blown fields and waves of Arctic cold! + + Close to my heart I fold each lovely thing + The sweet day yields; and, not disconsolate, + With the calm patience of the woods I wait + For leaf and blossom when God gives us Spring! + + 29th, Eleventh Month, 1886. + + + + + +POEMS SUBJECTIVE AND REMINISCENT MEMORIES + + A beautiful and happy girl, + With step as light as summer air, + Eyes glad with smiles, and brow of pearl, + Shadowed by many a careless curl + Of unconfined and flowing hair; + A seeming child in everything, + Save thoughtful brow and ripening charms, + As Nature wears the smile of Spring + When sinking into Summer's arms. + + A mind rejoicing in the light + Which melted through its graceful bower, + Leaf after leaf, dew-moist and bright, + And stainless in its holy white, + Unfolding like a morning flower + A heart, which, like a fine-toned lute, + With every breath of feeling woke, + And, even when the tongue was mute, + From eye and lip in music spoke. + + How thrills once more the lengthening chain + Of memory, at the thought of thee! + Old hopes which long in dust have lain + Old dreams, come thronging back again, + And boyhood lives again in me; + I feel its glow upon my cheek, + Its fulness of the heart is mine, + As when I leaned to hear thee speak, + Or raised my doubtful eye to thine. + + I hear again thy low replies, + I feel thy arm within my own, + And timidly again uprise + The fringed lids of hazel eyes, + With soft brown tresses overblown. + Ah! memories of sweet summer eves, + Of moonlit wave and willowy way, + Of stars and flowers, and dewy leaves, + And smiles and tones more dear than they! + + Ere this, thy quiet eye hath smiled + My picture of thy youth to see, + When, half a woman, half a child, + Thy very artlessness beguiled, + And folly's self seemed wise in thee; + I too can smile, when o'er that hour + The lights of memory backward stream, + Yet feel the while that manhood's power + Is vainer than my boyhood's dream. + + Years have passed on, and left their trace, + Of graver care and deeper thought; + And unto me the calm, cold face + Of manhood, and to thee the grace + Of woman's pensive beauty brought. + More wide, perchance, for blame than praise, + The school-boy's humble name has flown; + Thine, in the green and quiet ways + Of unobtrusive goodness known. + + And wider yet in thought and deed + Diverge our pathways, one in youth; + Thine the Genevan's sternest creed, + While answers to my spirit's need + The Derby dalesman's simple truth. + For thee, the priestly rite and prayer, + And holy day, and solemn psalm; + For me, the silent reverence where + My brethren gather, slow and calm. + + Yet hath thy spirit left on me + An impress Time has worn not out, + And something of myself in thee, + A shadow from the past, I see, + Lingering, even yet, thy way about; + Not wholly can the heart unlearn + That lesson of its better hours, + Not yet has Time's dull footstep worn + To common dust that path of flowers. + + Thus, while at times before our eyes + The shadows melt, and fall apart, + And, smiling through them, round us lies + The warm light of our morning skies,-- + The Indian Summer of the heart! + In secret sympathies of mind, + In founts of feeling which retain + Their pure, fresh flow, we yet may find + Our early dreams not wholly vain + + 1841. + + + + +RAPHAEL. + +Suggested by the portrait of Raphael, at the age of fifteen. + + I shall not soon forget that sight + The glow of Autumn's westering day, + A hazy warmth, a dreamy light, + On Raphael's picture lay. + + It was a simple print I saw, + The fair face of a musing boy; + Yet, while I gazed, a sense of awe + Seemed blending with my joy. + + A simple print,--the graceful flow + Of boyhood's soft and wavy hair, + And fresh young lip and cheek, and brow + Unmarked and clear, were there. + + Yet through its sweet and calm repose + I saw the inward spirit shine; + It was as if before me rose + The white veil of a shrine. + + As if, as Gothland's sage has told, + The hidden life, the man within, + Dissevered from its frame and mould, + By mortal eye were seen. + + Was it the lifting of that eye, + The waving of that pictured hand? + Loose as a cloud-wreath on the sky, + I saw the walls expand. + + The narrow room had vanished,--space, + Broad, luminous, remained alone, + Through which all hues and shapes of grace + And beauty looked or shone. + + Around the mighty master came + The marvels which his pencil wrought, + Those miracles of power whose fame + Is wide as human thought. + + There drooped thy more than mortal face, + O Mother, beautiful and mild + Enfolding in one dear embrace + Thy Saviour and thy Child! + + The rapt brow of the Desert John; + The awful glory of that day + When all the Father's brightness shone + Through manhood's veil of clay. + + And, midst gray prophet forms, and wild + Dark visions of the days of old, + How sweetly woman's beauty smiled + Through locks of brown and gold! + + There Fornarina's fair young face + Once more upon her lover shone, + Whose model of an angel's grace + He borrowed from her own. + + Slow passed that vision from my view, + But not the lesson which it taught; + The soft, calm shadows which it threw + Still rested on my thought: + + The truth, that painter, bard, and sage, + Even in Earth's cold and changeful clime, + Plant for their deathless heritage + The fruits and flowers of time. + + We shape ourselves the joy or fear + Of which the coming life is made, + And fill our Future's atmosphere + With sunshine or with shade. + + The tissue of the Life to be + We weave with colors all our own, + And in the field of Destiny + We reap as we have sown. + + Still shall the soul around it call + The shadows which it gathered here, + And, painted on the eternal wall, + The Past shall reappear. + + Think ye the notes of holy song + On Milton's tuneful ear have died? + Think ye that Raphael's angel throng + Has vanished from his side? + + Oh no!--We live our life again; + Or warmly touched, or coldly dim, + The pictures of the Past remain,--- + Man's works shall follow him! + + 1842. + + + + +EGO. + +WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF A FRIEND. + + On page of thine I cannot trace + The cold and heartless commonplace, + A statue's fixed and marble grace. + + For ever as these lines I penned, + Still with the thought of thee will blend + That of some loved and common friend, + + Who in life's desert track has made + His pilgrim tent with mine, or strayed + Beneath the same remembered shade. + + And hence my pen unfettered moves + In freedom which the heart approves, + The negligence which friendship loves. + + And wilt thou prize my poor gift less + For simple air and rustic dress, + And sign of haste and carelessness? + + Oh, more than specious counterfeit + Of sentiment or studied wit, + A heart like thine should value it. + + Yet half I fear my gift will be + Unto thy book, if not to thee, + Of more than doubtful courtesy. + + A banished name from Fashion's sphere, + A lay unheard of Beauty's ear, + Forbid, disowned,--what do they here? + + Upon my ear not all in vain + Came the sad captive's clanking chain, + The groaning from his bed of pain. + + And sadder still, I saw the woe + Which only wounded spirits know + When Pride's strong footsteps o'er them go. + + Spurned not alone in walks abroad, + But from the temples of the Lord + Thrust out apart, like things abhorred. + + Deep as I felt, and stern and strong, + In words which Prudence smothered long, + My soul spoke out against the wrong; + + Not mine alone the task to speak + Of comfort to the poor and weak, + And dry the tear on Sorrow's cheek; + + But, mingled in the conflict warm, + To pour the fiery breath of storm + Through the harsh trumpet of Reform; + + To brave Opinion's settled frown, + From ermined robe and saintly gown, + While wrestling reverenced Error down. + + Founts gushed beside my pilgrim way, + Cool shadows on the greensward lay, + Flowers swung upon the bending spray. + + And, broad and bright, on either hand, + Stretched the green slopes of Fairy-land, + With Hope's eternal sunbow spanned; + + Whence voices called me like the flow, + Which on the listener's ear will grow, + Of forest streamlets soft and low. + + And gentle eyes, which still retain + Their picture on the heart and brain, + Smiled, beckoning from that path of pain. + + In vain! nor dream, nor rest, nor pause + Remain for him who round him draws + The battered mail of Freedom's cause. + + From youthful hopes, from each green spot + Of young Romance, and gentle Thought, + Where storm and tumult enter not; + + From each fair altar, where belong + The offerings Love requires of Song + In homage to her bright-eyed throng; + + With soul and strength, with heart and hand, + I turned to Freedom's struggling band, + To the sad Helots of our land. + + What marvel then that Fame should turn + Her notes of praise to those of scorn; + Her gifts reclaimed, her smiles withdrawn? + + What matters it? a few years more, + Life's surge so restless heretofore + Shall break upon the unknown shore! + + In that far land shall disappear + The shadows which we follow here, + The mist-wreaths of our atmosphere! + + Before no work of mortal hand, + Of human will or strength expand + The pearl gates of the Better Land; + + Alone in that great love which gave + Life to the sleeper of the grave, + Resteth the power to seek and save. + + Yet, if the spirit gazing through + The vista of the past can view + One deed to Heaven and virtue true; + + If through the wreck of wasted powers, + Of garlands wreathed from Folly's bowers, + Of idle aims and misspent hours, + + The eye can note one sacred spot + By Pride and Self profaned not, + A green place in the waste of thought, + + Where deed or word hath rendered less + The sum of human wretchedness, + And Gratitude looks forth to bless; + + The simple burst of tenderest feeling + From sad hearts worn by evil-dealing, + For blessing on the hand of healing; + + Better than Glory's pomp will be + That green and blessed spot to me, + A palm-shade in Eternity! + + Something of Time which may invite + The purified and spiritual sight + To rest on with a calm delight. + + And when the summer winds shall sweep + With their light wings my place of sleep, + And mosses round my headstone creep; + + If still, as Freedom's rallying sign, + Upon the young heart's altars shine + The very fires they caught from mine; + + If words my lips once uttered still, + In the calm faith and steadfast will + Of other hearts, their work fulfil; + + Perchance with joy the soul may learn + These tokens, and its eye discern + The fires which on those altars burn; + + A marvellous joy that even then, + The spirit hath its life again, + In the strong hearts of mortal men. + + Take, lady, then, the gift I bring, + No gay and graceful offering, + No flower-smile of the laughing spring. + + Midst the green buds of Youth's fresh May, + With Fancy's leaf-enwoven bay, + My sad and sombre gift I lay. + + And if it deepens in thy mind + A sense of suffering human-kind,-- + The outcast and the spirit-blind; + + Oppressed and spoiled on every side, + By Prejudice, and Scorn, and Pride, + Life's common courtesies denied; + + Sad mothers mourning o'er their trust, + Children by want and misery nursed, + Tasting life's bitter cup at first; + + If to their strong appeals which come + From fireless hearth, and crowded room, + And the close alley's noisome gloom,-- + + Though dark the hands upraised to thee + In mute beseeching agony, + Thou lend'st thy woman's sympathy; + + Not vainly on thy gentle shrine, + Where Love, and Mirth, and Friendship twine + Their varied gifts, I offer mine. + + 1843. + + + + +THE PUMPKIN. + + Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun, + The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run, + And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold, + With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold, + Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once grew, + While he waited to know that his warning was true, + And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain + For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain. + + On the banks of the Xenil the dark Spanish maiden + Comes up with the fruit of the tangled vine laden; + And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to behold + Through orange-leaves shining the broad spheres of gold; + Yet with dearer delight from his home in the North, + On the fields of his harvest the Yankee looks forth, + Where crook-necks are coiling and yellow fruit shines, + And the sun of September melts down on his vines. + + Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West, + From North and from South come the pilgrim and guest, + When the gray-haired New-Englander sees round his board + The old broken links of affection restored, + When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more, + And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before, + What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye? + What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie? + + Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! the old days recalling, + When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling! + When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin, + Glaring out through the dark with a candle within! + When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune, + Our chair a broad pumpkin,--our lantern the moon, + Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam, + In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team + Then thanks for thy present! none sweeter or better + E'er smoked from an oven or circled a platter! + Fairer hands never wrought at a pastry more fine, + Brighter eyes never watched o'er its baking, than thine! + And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express, + Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less, + That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below, + And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow, + And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky + Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie! + + 1844. + + + + +FORGIVENESS. + + My heart was heavy, for its trust had been + Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong; + So, turning gloomily from my fellow-men, + One summer Sabbath day I strolled among + The green mounds of the village burial-place; + Where, pondering how all human love and hate + Find one sad level; and how, soon or late, + Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face, + And cold hands folded over a still heart, + Pass the green threshold of our common grave, + Whither all footsteps tend, whence none depart, + Awed for myself, and pitying my race, + Our common sorrow, like a nighty wave, + Swept all my pride away, and trembling I forgave! + + 1846. + + + + +TO MY SISTER, + +WITH A COPY OF "THE SUPERNATURALISM OF NEW ENGLAND." + +The work referred to was a series of papers under this title, +contributed to the Democratic Review and afterward collected into a +volume, in which I noted some of the superstitions and folklore +prevalent in New England. The volume has not been kept in print, but +most of its contents are distributed in my Literary Recreations and +Miscellanies. + + Dear Sister! while the wise and sage + Turn coldly from my playful page, + And count it strange that ripened age + Should stoop to boyhood's folly; + I know that thou wilt judge aright + Of all which makes the heart more light, + Or lends one star-gleam to the night + Of clouded Melancholy. + + Away with weary cares and themes! + Swing wide the moonlit gate of dreams! + Leave free once more the land which teems + With wonders and romances + Where thou, with clear discerning eyes, + Shalt rightly read the truth which lies + Beneath the quaintly masking guise + Of wild and wizard fancies. + + Lo! once again our feet we set + On still green wood-paths, twilight wet, + By lonely brooks, whose waters fret + The roots of spectral beeches; + Again the hearth-fire glimmers o'er + Home's whitewashed wall and painted floor, + And young eyes widening to the lore + Of faery-folks and witches. + + Dear heart! the legend is not vain + Which lights that holy hearth again, + And calling back from care and pain, + And death's funereal sadness, + Draws round its old familiar blaze + The clustering groups of happier days, + And lends to sober manhood's gaze + A glimpse of childish gladness. + + And, knowing how my life hath been + A weary work of tongue and pen, + A long, harsh strife with strong-willed men, + Thou wilt not chide my turning + To con, at times, an idle rhyme, + To pluck a flower from childhood's clime, + Or listen, at Life's noonday chime, + For the sweet bells of Morning! + + 1847. + + + + +MY THANKS, + +ACCOMPANYING MANUSCRIPTS PRESENTED TO A FRIEND. + + 'T is said that in the Holy Land + The angels of the place have blessed + The pilgrim's bed of desert sand, + Like Jacob's stone of rest. + + That down the hush of Syrian skies + Some sweet-voiced saint at twilight sings + The song whose holy symphonies + Are beat by unseen wings; + + Till starting from his sandy bed, + The wayworn wanderer looks to see + The halo of an angel's head + Shine through the tamarisk-tree. + + So through the shadows of my way + Thy smile hath fallen soft and clear, + So at the weary close of day + Hath seemed thy voice of cheer. + + That pilgrim pressing to his goal + May pause not for the vision's sake, + Yet all fair things within his soul + The thought of it shall wake: + + The graceful palm-tree by the well, + Seen on the far horizon's rim; + The dark eyes of the fleet gazelle, + Bent timidly on him; + + Each pictured saint, whose golden hair + Streams sunlike through the convent's gloom; + Pale shrines of martyrs young and fair, + And loving Mary's tomb; + + And thus each tint or shade which falls, + From sunset cloud or waving tree, + Along my pilgrim path, recalls + The pleasant thought of thee. + + Of one in sun and shade the same, + In weal and woe my steady friend, + Whatever by that holy name + The angels comprehend. + + Not blind to faults and follies, thou + Hast never failed the good to see, + Nor judged by one unseemly bough + The upward-struggling tree. + + These light leaves at thy feet I lay,-- + Poor common thoughts on common things, + Which time is shaking, day by day, + Like feathers from his wings; + + Chance shootings from a frail life-tree, + To nurturing care but little known, + Their good was partly learned of thee, + Their folly is my own. + + That tree still clasps the kindly mould, + Its leaves still drink the twilight dew, + And weaving its pale green with gold, + Still shines the sunlight through. + + There still the morning zephyrs play, + And there at times the spring bird sings, + And mossy trunk and fading spray + Are flowered with glossy wings. + + Yet, even in genial sun and rain, + Root, branch, and leaflet fail and fade; + The wanderer on its lonely plain + Erelong shall miss its shade. + + O friend beloved, whose curious skill + Keeps bright the last year's leaves and flowers, + With warm, glad, summer thoughts to fill + The cold, dark, winter hours + + Pressed on thy heart, the leaves I bring + May well defy the wintry cold, + Until, in Heaven's eternal spring, + Life's fairer ones unfold. + + 1847. + + + + +REMEMBRANCE + +WITH COPIES OF THE AUTHOR'S WRITINGS. + + Friend of mine! whose lot was cast + With me in the distant past; + Where, like shadows flitting fast, + + Fact and fancy, thought and theme, + Word and work, begin to seem + Like a half-remembered dream! + + Touched by change have all things been, + Yet I think of thee as when + We had speech of lip and pen. + + For the calm thy kindness lent + To a path of discontent, + Rough with trial and dissent; + + Gentle words where such were few, + Softening blame where blame was true, + Praising where small praise was due; + + For a waking dream made good, + For an ideal understood, + For thy Christian womanhood; + + For thy marvellous gift to cull + From our common life and dull + Whatsoe'er is beautiful; + + Thoughts and fancies, Hybla's bees + Dropping sweetness; true heart's-ease + Of congenial sympathies;-- + + Still for these I own my debt; + Memory, with her eyelids wet, + Fain would thank thee even yet! + + And as one who scatters flowers + Where the Queen of May's sweet hours + Sits, o'ertwined with blossomed bowers, + + In superfluous zeal bestowing + Gifts where gifts are overflowing, + So I pay the debt I'm owing. + + To thy full thoughts, gay or sad, + Sunny-hued or sober clad, + Something of my own I add; + + Well assured that thou wilt take + Even the offering which I make + Kindly for the giver's sake. + + 1851. + + + + +MY NAMESAKE. + +Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allison of Burlington, New Jersey. + + You scarcely need my tardy thanks, + Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend-- + A green leaf on your own Green Banks-- + The memory of your friend. + + For me, no wreath, bloom-woven, hides + The sobered brow and lessening hair + For aught I know, the myrtled sides + Of Helicon are bare. + + Their scallop-shells so many bring + The fabled founts of song to try, + They've drained, for aught I know, the spring + Of Aganippe dry. + + Ah well!--The wreath the Muses braid + Proves often Folly's cap and bell; + Methinks, my ample beaver's shade + May serve my turn as well. + + Let Love's and Friendship's tender debt + Be paid by those I love in life. + Why should the unborn critic whet + For me his scalping-knife? + + Why should the stranger peer and pry + One's vacant house of life about, + And drag for curious ear and eye + His faults and follies out?-- + + Why stuff, for fools to gaze upon, + With chaff of words, the garb he wore, + As corn-husks when the ear is gone + Are rustled all the more? + + Let kindly Silence close again, + The picture vanish from the eye, + And on the dim and misty main + Let the small ripple die. + + Yet not the less I own your claim + To grateful thanks, dear friends of mine. + Hang, if it please you so, my name + Upon your household line. + + Let Fame from brazen lips blow wide + Her chosen names, I envy none + A mother's love, a father's pride, + Shall keep alive my own! + + Still shall that name as now recall + The young leaf wet with morning dew, + The glory where the sunbeams fall + The breezy woodlands through. + + That name shall be a household word, + A spell to waken smile or sigh; + In many an evening prayer be heard + And cradle lullaby. + + And thou, dear child, in riper days + When asked the reason of thy name, + Shalt answer: One 't were vain to praise + Or censure bore the same. + + "Some blamed him, some believed him good, + The truth lay doubtless 'twixt the two; + He reconciled as best he could + Old faith and fancies new. + + "In him the grave and playful mixed, + And wisdom held with folly truce, + And Nature compromised betwixt + Good fellow and recluse. + + "He loved his friends, forgave his foes; + And, if his words were harsh at times, + He spared his fellow-men,--his blows + Fell only on their crimes. + + "He loved the good and wise, but found + His human heart to all akin + Who met him on the common ground + Of suffering and of sin. + + "Whate'er his neighbors might endure + Of pain or grief his own became; + For all the ills he could not cure + He held himself to blame. + + "His good was mainly an intent, + His evil not of forethought done; + The work he wrought was rarely meant + Or finished as begun. + + "Ill served his tides of feeling strong + To turn the common mills of use; + And, over restless wings of song, + His birthright garb hung loose! + + "His eye was beauty's powerless slave, + And his the ear which discord pains; + Few guessed beneath his aspect grave + What passions strove in chains. + + "He had his share of care and pain, + No holiday was life to him; + Still in the heirloom cup we drain + The bitter drop will swim. + + "Yet Heaven was kind, and here a bird + And there a flower beguiled his way; + And, cool, in summer noons, he heard + The fountains plash and play. + + "On all his sad or restless moods + The patient peace of Nature stole; + The quiet of the fields and woods + Sank deep into his soul. + + "He worshipped as his fathers did, + And kept the faith of childish days, + And, howsoe'er he strayed or slid, + He loved the good old ways. + + "The simple tastes, the kindly traits, + The tranquil air, and gentle speech, + The silence of the soul that waits + For more than man to teach. + + "The cant of party, school, and sect, + Provoked at times his honest scorn, + And Folly, in its gray respect, + He tossed on satire's horn. + + "But still his heart was full of awe + And reverence for all sacred things; + And, brooding over form and law,' + He saw the Spirit's wings! + + "Life's mystery wrapt him like a cloud; + He heard far voices mock his own, + The sweep of wings unseen, the loud, + Long roll of waves unknown. + + "The arrows of his straining sight + Fell quenched in darkness; priest and sage, + Like lost guides calling left and right, + Perplexed his doubtful age. + + "Like childhood, listening for the sound + Of its dropped pebbles in the well, + All vainly down the dark profound + His brief-lined plummet fell. + + "So, scattering flowers with pious pains + On old beliefs, of later creeds, + Which claimed a place in Truth's domains, + He asked the title-deeds. + + "He saw the old-time's groves and shrines + In the long distance fair and dim; + And heard, like sound of far-off pines, + The century-mellowed hymn! + + "He dared not mock the Dervish whirl, + The Brahmin's rite, the Lama's spell; + God knew the heart; Devotion's pearl + Might sanctify the shell. + + "While others trod the altar stairs + He faltered like the publican; + And, while they praised as saints, his prayers + Were those of sinful man. + + "For, awed by Sinai's Mount of Law, + The trembling faith alone sufficed, + That, through its cloud and flame, he saw + The sweet, sad face of Christ! + + "And listening, with his forehead bowed, + Heard the Divine compassion fill + The pauses of the trump and cloud + With whispers small and still. + + "The words he spake, the thoughts he penned, + Are mortal as his hand and brain, + But, if they served the Master's end, + He has not lived in vain!" + + Heaven make thee better than thy name, + Child of my friends!--For thee I crave + What riches never bought, nor fame + To mortal longing gave. + + I pray the prayer of Plato old: + God make thee beautiful within, + And let thine eyes the good behold + In everything save sin! + + Imagination held in check + To serve, not rule, thy poised mind; + Thy Reason, at the frown or beck + Of Conscience, loose or bind. + + No dreamer thou, but real all,-- + Strong manhood crowning vigorous youth; + Life made by duty epical + And rhythmic with the truth. + + So shall that life the fruitage yield + Which trees of healing only give, + And green-leafed in the Eternal field + Of God, forever live! + + 1853. + + + + +A MEMORY + + Here, while the loom of Winter weaves + The shroud of flowers and fountains, + I think of thee and summer eves + Among the Northern mountains. + + When thunder tolled the twilight's close, + And winds the lake were rude on, + And thou wert singing, _Ca' the Yowes_, + The bonny yowes of Cluden! + + When, close and closer, hushing breath, + Our circle narrowed round thee, + And smiles and tears made up the wreath + Wherewith our silence crowned thee; + + And, strangers all, we felt the ties + Of sisters and of brothers; + Ah! whose of all those kindly eyes + Now smile upon another's? + + The sport of Time, who still apart + The waifs of life is flinging; + Oh, nevermore shall heart to heart + Draw nearer for that singing! + + Yet when the panes are frosty-starred, + And twilight's fire is gleaming, + I hear the songs of Scotland's bard + Sound softly through my dreaming! + + A song that lends to winter snows + The glow of summer weather,-- + Again I hear thee ca' the yowes + To Cluden's hills of heather + + 1854. + + + + +MY DREAM. + + In my dream, methought I trod, + Yesternight, a mountain road; + Narrow as Al Sirat's span, + High as eagle's flight, it ran. + + Overhead, a roof of cloud + With its weight of thunder bowed; + Underneath, to left and right, + Blankness and abysmal night. + + Here and there a wild-flower blushed, + Now and then a bird-song gushed; + Now and then, through rifts of shade, + Stars shone out, and sunbeams played. + + But the goodly company, + Walking in that path with me, + One by one the brink o'erslid, + One by one the darkness hid. + + Some with wailing and lament, + Some with cheerful courage went; + But, of all who smiled or mourned, + Never one to us returned. + + Anxiously, with eye and ear, + Questioning that shadow drear, + Never hand in token stirred, + Never answering voice I heard! + + Steeper, darker!--lo! I felt + From my feet the pathway melt. + Swallowed by the black despair, + And the hungry jaws of air, + + Past the stony-throated caves, + Strangled by the wash of waves, + Past the splintered crags, I sank + On a green and flowery bank,-- + + Soft as fall of thistle-down, + Lightly as a cloud is blown, + Soothingly as childhood pressed + To the bosom of its rest. + + Of the sharp-horned rocks instead, + Green the grassy meadows spread, + Bright with waters singing by + Trees that propped a golden sky. + + Painless, trustful, sorrow-free, + Old lost faces welcomed me, + With whose sweetness of content + Still expectant hope was blent. + + Waking while the dawning gray + Slowly brightened into day, + Pondering that vision fled, + Thus unto myself I said:-- + + "Steep and hung with clouds of strife + Is our narrow path of life; + And our death the dreaded fall + Through the dark, awaiting all. + + "So, with painful steps we climb + Up the dizzy ways of time, + Ever in the shadow shed + By the forecast of our dread. + + "Dread of mystery solved alone, + Of the untried and unknown; + Yet the end thereof may seem + Like the falling of my dream. + + "And this heart-consuming care, + All our fears of here or there, + Change and absence, loss and death, + Prove but simple lack of faith." + + Thou, O Most Compassionate! + Who didst stoop to our estate, + Drinking of the cup we drain, + Treading in our path of pain,-- + + Through the doubt and mystery, + Grant to us thy steps to see, + And the grace to draw from thence + Larger hope and confidence. + + Show thy vacant tomb, and let, + As of old, the angels sit, + Whispering, by its open door + "Fear not! He hath gone before!" + + 1855. + + + + +THE BAREFOOT BOY. + + Blessings on thee, little man, + Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan + With thy turned-up pantaloons, + And thy merry whistled tunes; + With thy red lip, redder still + Kissed by strawberries on the hill; + With the sunshine on thy face, + Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; + From my heart I give thee joy,-- + I was once a barefoot boy! + + Prince thou art,--the grown-up man + Only is republican. + Let the million-dollared ride! + Barefoot, trudging at his side, + Thou hast more than he can buy + In the reach of ear and eye,-- + Outward sunshine, inward joy + Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! + + Oh for boyhood's painless play, + Sleep that wakes in laughing day, + Health that mocks the doctor's rules, + Knowledge never learned of schools, + Of the wild bee's morning chase, + Of the wild-flower's time and place, + Flight of fowl and habitude + Of the tenants of the wood; + How the tortoise bears his shell, + How the woodchuck digs his cell, + And the ground-mole sinks his well; + How the robin feeds her young, + How the oriole's nest is hung; + Where the whitest lilies blow, + Where the freshest berries grow, + Where the ground-nut trails its vine, + Where the wood-grape's clusters shine; + Of the black wasp's cunning way, + Mason of his walls of clay, + And the architectural plans + Of gray hornet artisans! + For, eschewing books and tasks, + Nature answers all he asks, + Hand in hand with her he walks, + Face to face with her he talks, + Part and parcel of her joy,-- + Blessings on the barefoot boy! + + Oh for boyhood's time of June, + Crowding years in one brief moon, + When all things I heard or saw, + Me, their master, waited for. + I was rich in flowers and trees, + Humming-birds and honey-bees; + For my sport the squirrel played, + Plied the snouted mole his spade; + For my taste the blackberry cone + Purpled over hedge and stone; + Laughed the brook for my delight + Through the day and through the night, + Whispering at the garden wall, + Talked with me from fall to fall; + Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, + Mine the walnut slopes beyond, + Mine, on bending orchard trees, + Apples of Hesperides! + Still as my horizon grew, + Larger grew my riches too; + All the world I saw or knew + Seemed a complex Chinese toy, + Fashioned for a barefoot boy! + + Oh for festal dainties spread, + Like my bowl of milk and bread; + Pewter spoon and bowl of wood, + On the door-stone, gray and rude! + O'er me, like a regal tent, + Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, + Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, + Looped in many a wind-swung fold; + While for music came the play + Of the pied frogs' orchestra; + And, to light the noisy choir, + Lit the fly his lamp of fire. + I was monarch: pomp and joy + Waited on the barefoot boy! + + Cheerily, then, my little man, + Live and laugh, as boyhood can + Though the flinty slopes be hard, + Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, + Every morn shall lead thee through + Fresh baptisms of the dew; + Every evening from thy feet + Shall the cool wind kiss the heat + All too soon these feet must hide + In the prison cells of pride, + Lose the freedom of the sod, + Like a colt's for work be shod, + Made to tread the mills of toil, + Up and down in ceaseless moil + Happy if their track be found + Never on forbidden ground; + Happy if they sink not in + Quick and treacherous sands of sin. + Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy, + Ere it passes, barefoot boy! + + 1855. + + + + +MY PSALM. + + I mourn no more my vanished years + Beneath a tender rain, + An April rain of smiles and tears, + My heart is young again. + + The west-winds blow, and, singing low, + I hear the glad streams run; + The windows of my soul I throw + Wide open to the sun. + + No longer forward nor behind + I look in hope or fear; + But, grateful, take the good I find, + The best of now and here. + + I plough no more a desert land, + To harvest weed and tare; + The manna dropping from God's hand + Rebukes my painful care. + + I break my pilgrim staff, I lay + Aside the toiling oar; + The angel sought so far away + I welcome at my door. + + The airs of spring may never play + Among the ripening corn, + Nor freshness of the flowers of May + Blow through the autumn morn. + + Yet shall the blue-eyed gentian look + Through fringed lids to heaven, + And the pale aster in the brook + Shall see its image given;-- + + The woods shall wear their robes of praise, + The south-wind softly sigh, + And sweet, calm days in golden haze + Melt down the amber sky. + + Not less shall manly deed and word + Rebuke an age of wrong; + The graven flowers that wreathe the sword + Make not the blade less strong. + + But smiting hands shall learn to heal,-- + To build as to destroy; + Nor less my heart for others feel + That I the more enjoy. + + All as God wills, who wisely heeds + To give or to withhold, + And knoweth more of all my needs + Than all my prayers have told. + + Enough that blessings undeserved + Have marked my erring track; + That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved, + His chastening turned me back; + + That more and more a Providence + Of love is understood, + Making the springs of time and sense + Sweet with eternal good;-- + + That death seems but a covered way + Which opens into light, + Wherein no blinded child can stray + Beyond the Father's sight; + + That care and trial seem at last, + Through Memory's sunset air, + Like mountain-ranges overpast, + In purple distance fair; + + That all the jarring notes of life + Seem blending in a psalm, + And all the angles of its strife + Slow rounding into calm. + + And so the shadows fall apart, + And so the west-winds play; + And all the windows of my heart + I open to the day. + + 1859. + + + + +THE WAITING. + + I wait and watch: before my eyes + Methinks the night grows thin and gray; + I wait and watch the eastern skies + To see the golden spears uprise + Beneath the oriflamme of day! + + Like one whose limbs are bound in trance + I hear the day-sounds swell and grow, + And see across the twilight glance, + Troop after troop, in swift advance, + The shining ones with plumes of snow! + + I know the errand of their feet, + I know what mighty work is theirs; + I can but lift up hands unmeet, + The threshing-floors of God to beat, + And speed them with unworthy prayers. + + I will not dream in vain despair + The steps of progress wait for me + The puny leverage of a hair + The planet's impulse well may spare, + A drop of dew the tided sea. + + The loss, if loss there be, is mine, + And yet not mine if understood; + For one shall grasp and one resign, + One drink life's rue, and one its wine, + And God shall make the balance good. + + Oh power to do! Oh baffled will! + Oh prayer and action! ye are one. + Who may not strive, may yet fulfil + The harder task of standing still, + And good but wished with God is done! + + 1862. + + + + +SNOW-BOUND. A WINTER IDYL. + + TO THE MEMORY + + OF + + THE HOUSEHOLD IT DESCRIBES, + + THIS POEM IS DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. + +The inmates of the family at the Whittier homestead who are referred to +in the poem were my father, mother, my brother and two sisters, and my +uncle and aunt both unmarried. In addition, there was the district +school-master who boarded with us. The "not unfeared, half-welcome +guest" was Harriet Livermore, daughter of Judge Livermore, of New +Hampshire, a young woman of fine natural ability, enthusiastic, +eccentric, with slight control over her violent temper, which sometimes +made her religious profession doubtful. She was equally ready to exhort +in school-house prayer-meetings and dance in a Washington ball-room, +while her father was a member of Congress. She early embraced the +doctrine of the Second Advent, and felt it her duty to proclaim the +Lord's speedy coming. With this message she crossed the Atlantic and +spent the greater part of a long life in travelling over Europe and +Asia. She lived some time with Lady Hester Stanhope, a woman as +fantastic and mentally strained as herself, on the slope of Mt. Lebanon, +but finally quarrelled with her in regard to two white horses with red +marks on their backs which suggested the idea of saddles, on which her +titled hostess expected to ride into Jerusalem with the Lord. A friend +of mine found her, when quite an old woman, wandering in Syria with a +tribe of Arabs, who with the Oriental notion that madness is +inspiration, accepted her as their prophetess and leader. At the time +referred to in Snow-Bound she was boarding at the Rocks Village about +two miles from us. + +In my boyhood, in our lonely farm-house, we had scanty sources of +information; few books and only a small weekly newspaper. Our only +annual was the Almanac. Under such circumstances story-telling was a +necessary resource in the long winter evenings. My father when a young +man had traversed the wilderness to Canada, and could tell us of his +adventures with Indians and wild beasts, and of his sojourn in the +French villages. My uncle was ready with his record of hunting and +fishing and, it must be confessed, with stories which he at least half +believed, of witchcraft and apparitions. My mother, who was born in the +Indian-haunted region of Somersworth, New Hampshire, between Dover and +Portsmouth, told us of the inroads of the savages, and the narrow escape +of her ancestors. She described strange people who lived on the +Piscataqua and Cocheco, among whom was Bantam the sorcerer. I have in my +possession the wizard's "conjuring book," which he solemnly opened when +consulted. It is a copy of Cornelius Agrippa's Magic printed in 1651, +dedicated to Dr. Robert Child, who, like Michael Scott, had learned "the +art of glammorie In Padua beyond the sea," and who is famous in the +annals of Massachusetts, where he was at one time a resident, as the +first man who dared petition the General Court for liberty of +conscience. The full title of the book is Three Books of Occult +Philosophy, by Henry Cornelius Agrippa, Knight, Doctor of both Laws, +Counsellor to Caesar's Sacred Majesty and Judge of the Prerogative +Court. + +"As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good Spirits, +which be Angels of Light, are augmented not only by the Divine light of +the Sun, but also by our common Wood Fire: and as the Celestial Fire +drives away dark spirits, so also this our Fire of Wood doth the same." +--Cor. AGRIPPA, Occult Philosophy, Book I. ch. v. + + "Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, + Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, + Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air + Hides hills and woods, the rivet and the heaven, + And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. + The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet + Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit + Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed + In a tumultuous privacy of storm." + Emerson. The Snow Storm. + + + The sun that brief December day + Rose cheerless over hills of gray, + And, darkly circled, gave at noon + A sadder light than waning moon. + Slow tracing down the thickening sky + Its mute and ominous prophecy, + A portent seeming less than threat, + It sank from sight before it set. + A chill no coat, however stout, + Of homespun stuff could quite, shut out, + A hard, dull bitterness of cold, + That checked, mid-vein, the circling race + Of life-blood in the sharpened face, + The coming of the snow-storm told. + The wind blew east; we heard the roar + Of Ocean on his wintry shore, + And felt the strong pulse throbbing there + Beat with low rhythm our inland air. + + Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,-- + Brought in the wood from out of doors, + Littered the stalls, and from the mows + Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows + Heard the horse whinnying for his corn; + And, sharply clashing horn on horn, + Impatient down the stanchion rows + The cattle shake their walnut bows; + While, peering from his early perch + Upon the scaffold's pole of birch, + The cock his crested helmet bent + And down his querulous challenge sent. + + Unwarmed by any sunset light + The gray day darkened into night, + A night made hoary with the swarm, + And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, + As zigzag, wavering to and fro, + Crossed and recrossed the winged snow + And ere the early bedtime came + The white drift piled the window-frame, + And through the glass the clothes-line posts + Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts. + + So all night long the storm roared on + The morning broke without a sun; + In tiny spherule traced with lines + Of Nature's geometric signs, + In starry flake, and pellicle, + All day the hoary meteor fell; + And, when the second morning shone, + We looked upon a world unknown, + On nothing we could call our own. + Around the glistening wonder bent + The blue walls of the firmament, + No cloud above, no earth below,-- + A universe of sky and snow + The old familiar sights of ours + Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers + Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood, + Or garden-wall, or belt of wood; + A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed, + A fenceless drift what once was road; + The bridle-post an old man sat + With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; + The well-curb had a Chinese roof; + And even the long sweep, high aloof, + In its slant splendor, seemed to tell + Of Pisa's leaning miracle. + + A prompt, decisive man, no breath + Our father wasted: "Boys, a path!" + Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy + Count such a summons less than joy?) + Our buskins on our feet we drew; + With mittened hands, and caps drawn low, + To guard our necks and ears from snow, + We cut the solid whiteness through. + And, where the drift was deepest, made + A tunnel walled and overlaid + With dazzling crystal: we had read + Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave, + And to our own his name we gave, + With many a wish the luck were ours + To test his lamp's supernal powers. + We reached the barn with merry din, + And roused the prisoned brutes within. + The old horse thrust his long head out, + And grave with wonder gazed about; + The cock his lusty greeting said, + And forth his speckled harem led; + The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked, + And mild reproach of hunger looked; + The horned patriarch of the sheep, + Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep, + Shook his sage head with gesture mute, + And emphasized with stamp of foot. + + All day the gusty north-wind bore + The loosening drift its breath before; + Low circling round its southern zone, + The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone. + No church-bell lent its Christian tone + To the savage air, no social smoke + Curled over woods of snow-hung oak. + A solitude made more intense + By dreary-voiced elements, + The shrieking of the mindless wind, + The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind, + And on the glass the unmeaning beat + Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet. + Beyond the circle of our hearth + No welcome sound of toil or mirth + Unbound the spell, and testified + Of human life and thought outside. + We minded that the sharpest ear + The buried brooklet could not hear, + The music of whose liquid lip + Had been to us companionship, + And, in our lonely life, had grown + To have an almost human tone. + + As night drew on, and, from the crest + Of wooded knolls that ridged the west, + The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank + From sight beneath the smothering bank, + We piled, with care, our nightly stack + Of wood against the chimney-back,-- + The oaken log, green, huge, and thick, + And on its top the stout back-stick; + The knotty forestick laid apart, + And filled between with curious art + The ragged brush; then, hovering near, + We watched the first red blaze appear, + Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam + On whitewashed wall and sagging beam, + Until the old, rude-furnished room + Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom; + While radiant with a mimic flame + Outside the sparkling drift became, + And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree + Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free. + The crane and pendent trammels showed, + The Turks' heads on the andirons glowed; + While childish fancy, prompt to tell + The meaning of the miracle, + Whispered the old rhyme: "_Under the tree, + When fire outdoors burns merrily, + There the witches are making tea_." + + The moon above the eastern wood + Shone at its full; the hill-range stood + Transfigured in the silver flood, + Its blown snows flashing cold and keen, + Dead white, save where some sharp ravine + Took shadow, or the sombre green + Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black + Against the whiteness at their back. + For such a world and such a night + Most fitting that unwarming light, + Which only seemed where'er it fell + To make the coldness visible. + + Shut in from all the world without, + We sat the clean-winged hearth about, + Content to let the north-wind roar + In baffled rage at pane and door, + While the red logs before us beat + The frost-line back with tropic heat; + And ever, when a louder blast + Shook beam and rafter as it passed, + The merrier up its roaring draught + The great throat of the chimney laughed; + The house-dog on his paws outspread + Laid to the fire his drowsy head, + The cat's dark silhouette on the wall + A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; + And, for the winter fireside meet, + Between the andirons' straddling feet, + The mug of cider simmered slow, + The apples sputtered in a row, + And, close at hand, the basket stood + With nuts from brown October's wood. + + What matter how the night behaved? + What matter how the north-wind raved? + Blow high, blow low, not all its snow + Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. + O Time and Change!--with hair as gray + As was my sire's that winter day, + How strange it seems, with so much gone + Of life and love, to still live on! + Ah, brother! only I and thou + Are left of all that circle now,-- + The dear home faces whereupon + That fitful firelight paled and shone. + Henceforward, listen as we will, + The voices of that hearth are still; + Look where we may, the wide earth o'er + Those lighted faces smile no more. + We tread the paths their feet have worn, + We sit beneath their orchard trees, + We hear, like them, the hum of bees + And rustle of the bladed corn; + We turn the pages that they read, + Their written words we linger o'er, + But in the sun they cast no shade, + No voice is heard, no sign is made, + No step is on the conscious floor! + Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust, + (Since He who knows our need is just,) + That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. + Alas for him who never sees + The stars shine through his cypress-trees + Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, + Nor looks to see the breaking day + Across the mournful marbles play! + Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, + The truth to flesh and sense unknown, + That Life is ever lord of Death, + And Love can never lose its own! + + We sped the time with stories old, + Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told, + Or stammered from our school-book lore + The Chief of Gambia's "golden shore." + How often since, when all the land + Was clay in Slavery's shaping hand, + As if a far-blown trumpet stirred + The languorous sin-sick air, I heard + "_Does not the voice of reason cry, + Claim the first right which Nature gave, + From the red scourge of bondage fly, + Nor deign to live a burdened slave_!" + Our father rode again his ride + On Memphremagog's wooded side; + Sat down again to moose and samp + In trapper's hut and Indian camp; + Lived o'er the old idyllic ease + Beneath St. Francois' hemlock-trees; + Again for him the moonlight shone + On Norman cap and bodiced zone; + Again he heard the violin play + Which led the village dance away, + And mingled in its merry whirl + The grandam and the laughing girl. + Or, nearer home, our steps he led + Where Salisbury's level marshes spread + Mile-wide as flies the laden bee; + Where merry mowers, hale and strong, + Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along + The low green prairies of the sea. + We shared the fishing off Boar's Head, + And round the rocky Isles of Shoals + The hake-broil on the drift-wood coals; + The chowder on the sand-beach made, + Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot, + With spoons of clam-shell from the pot. + We heard the tales of witchcraft old, + And dream and sign and marvel told + To sleepy listeners as they lay + Stretched idly on the salted hay, + Adrift along the winding shores, + When favoring breezes deigned to blow + The square sail of the gundelow + And idle lay the useless oars. + + Our mother, while she turned her wheel + Or run the new-knit stocking-heel, + Told how the Indian hordes came down + At midnight on Cocheco town, + And how her own great-uncle bore + His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore. + Recalling, in her fitting phrase, + So rich and picturesque and free, + (The common unrhymed poetry + Of simple life and country ways,) + The story of her early days,-- + She made us welcome to her home; + Old hearths grew wide to give us room; + We stole with her a frightened look + At the gray wizard's conjuring-book, + The fame whereof went far and wide + Through all the simple country side; + We heard the hawks at twilight play, + The boat-horn on Piscataqua, + The loon's weird laughter far away; + We fished her little trout-brook, knew + What flowers in wood and meadow grew, + What sunny hillsides autumn-brown + She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down, + Saw where in sheltered cove and bay + The ducks' black squadron anchored lay, + And heard the wild-geese calling loud + Beneath the gray November cloud. + + Then, haply, with a look more grave, + And soberer tone, some tale she gave + From painful Sewell's ancient tome, + Beloved in every Quaker home, + Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom, + Or Chalkley's Journal, old and quaint,-- + Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint!-- + Who, when the dreary calms prevailed, + And water-butt and bread-cask failed, + And cruel, hungry eyes pursued + His portly presence mad for food, + With dark hints muttered under breath + Of casting lots for life or death, + Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies, + To be himself the sacrifice. + Then, suddenly, as if to save + The good man from his living grave, + A ripple on the water grew, + A school of porpoise flashed in view. + "Take, eat," he said, "and be content; + These fishes in my stead are sent + By Him who gave the tangled ram + To spare the child of Abraham." + + Our uncle, innocent of books, + Was rich in lore of fields and brooks, + The ancient teachers never dumb + Of Nature's unhoused lyceum. + In moons and tides and weather wise, + He read the clouds as prophecies, + And foul or fair could well divine, + By many an occult hint and sign, + Holding the cunning-warded keys + To all the woodcraft mysteries; + Himself to Nature's heart so near + That all her voices in his ear + Of beast or bird had meanings clear, + Like Apollonius of old, + Who knew the tales the sparrows told, + Or Hermes who interpreted + What the sage cranes of Nilus said; + + Content to live where life began; + A simple, guileless, childlike man, + Strong only on his native grounds, + The little world of sights and sounds + Whose girdle was the parish bounds, + Whereof his fondly partial pride + The common features magnified, + As Surrey hills to mountains grew + In White of Selborne's loving view,-- + He told how teal and loon he shot, + And how the eagle's eggs he got, + The feats on pond and river done, + The prodigies of rod and gun; + Till, warming with the tales he told, + Forgotten was the outside cold, + The bitter wind unheeded blew, + From ripening corn the pigeons flew, + The partridge drummed I' the wood, the mink + Went fishing down the river-brink. + In fields with bean or clover gay, + The woodchuck, like a hermit gray, + Peered from the doorway of his cell; + The muskrat plied the mason's trade, + And tier by tier his mud-walls laid; + And from the shagbark overhead + The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell. + + Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer + And voice in dreams I see and hear,-- + The sweetest woman ever Fate + Perverse denied a household mate, + Who, lonely, homeless, not the less + Found peace in love's unselfishness, + And welcome wheresoe'er she went, + A calm and gracious element,-- + Whose presence seemed the sweet income + And womanly atmosphere of home,-- + Called up her girlhood memories, + The huskings and the apple-bees, + The sleigh-rides and the summer sails, + Weaving through all the poor details + And homespun warp of circumstance + A golden woof-thread of romance. + For well she kept her genial mood + And simple faith of maidenhood; + Before her still a cloud-land lay, + The mirage loomed across her way; + The morning dew, that dries so soon + With others, glistened at her noon; + Through years of toil and soil and care, + From glossy tress to thin gray hair, + All unprofaned she held apart + The virgin fancies of the heart. + Be shame to him of woman born + Who hath for such but thought of scorn. + + There, too, our elder sister plied + Her evening task the stand beside; + A full, rich nature, free to trust, + Truthful and almost sternly just, + Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act, + And make her generous thought a fact, + Keeping with many a light disguise + The secret of self-sacrifice. + O heart sore-tried! thou hast the best + That Heaven itself could give thee,--rest, + + Rest from all bitter thoughts and things! + How many a poor one's blessing went + With thee beneath the low green tent + Whose curtain never outward swings! + + As one who held herself a part + Of all she saw, and let her heart + Against the household bosom lean, + Upon the motley-braided mat + Our youngest and our dearest sat, + Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes, + Now bathed in the unfading green + And holy peace of Paradise. + Oh, looking from some heavenly hill, + Or from the shade of saintly palms, + Or silver reach of river calms, + Do those large eyes behold me still? + With me one little year ago:-- + The chill weight of the winter snow + For months upon her grave has lain; + And now, when summer south-winds blow + And brier and harebell bloom again, + I tread the pleasant paths we trod, + I see the violet-sprinkled sod + Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak + The hillside flowers she loved to seek, + Yet following me where'er I went + With dark eyes full of love's content. + The birds are glad; the brier-rose fills + The air with sweetness; all the hills + Stretch green to June's unclouded sky; + But still I wait with ear and eye + For something gone which should be nigh, + A loss in all familiar things, + In flower that blooms, and bird that sings. + And yet, dear heart' remembering thee, + Am I not richer than of old? + Safe in thy immortality, + What change can reach the wealth I hold? + What chance can mar the pearl and gold + Thy love hath left in trust with me? + And while in life's late afternoon, + Where cool and long the shadows grow, + I walk to meet the night that soon + Shall shape and shadow overflow, + I cannot feel that thou art far, + Since near at need the angels are; + And when the sunset gates unbar, + Shall I not see thee waiting stand, + And, white against the evening star, + The welcome of thy beckoning hand? + + Brisk wielder of the birch and rule, + The master of the district school + Held at the fire his favored place, + Its warm glow lit a laughing face + Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared + The uncertain prophecy of beard. + He teased the mitten-blinded cat, + Played cross-pins on my uncle's hat, + Sang songs, and told us what befalls + In classic Dartmouth's college halls. + Born the wild Northern hills among, + From whence his yeoman father wrung + By patient toil subsistence scant, + Not competence and yet not want, + + He early gained the power to pay + His cheerful, self-reliant way; + Could doff at ease his scholar's gown + To peddle wares from town to town; + Or through the long vacation's reach + In lonely lowland districts teach, + Where all the droll experience found + At stranger hearths in boarding round, + The moonlit skater's keen delight, + The sleigh-drive through the frosty night, + The rustic party, with its rough + Accompaniment of blind-man's-buff, + And whirling plate, and forfeits paid, + His winter task a pastime made. + Happy the snow-locked homes wherein + He tuned his merry violin, + Or played the athlete in the barn, + Or held the good dame's winding-yarn, + Or mirth-provoking versions told + Of classic legends rare and old, + Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome + Had all the commonplace of home, + And little seemed at best the odds + 'Twixt Yankee pedlers and old gods; + Where Pindus-born Arachthus took + The guise of any grist-mill brook, + And dread Olympus at his will + Became a huckleberry hill. + + A careless boy that night he seemed; + But at his desk he had the look + And air of one who wisely schemed, + And hostage from the future took + In trained thought and lore of book. + Large-brained, clear-eyed, of such as he + Shall Freedom's young apostles be, + Who, following in War's bloody trail, + Shall every lingering wrong assail; + All chains from limb and spirit strike, + Uplift the black and white alike; + Scatter before their swift advance + The darkness and the ignorance, + The pride, the lust, the squalid sloth, + Which nurtured Treason's monstrous growth, + Made murder pastime, and the hell + Of prison-torture possible; + The cruel lie of caste refute, + Old forms remould, and substitute + For Slavery's lash the freeman's will, + For blind routine, wise-handed skill; + A school-house plant on every hill, + Stretching in radiate nerve-lines thence + The quick wires of intelligence; + Till North and South together brought + Shall own the same electric thought, + In peace a common flag salute, + And, side by side in labor's free + And unresentful rivalry, + Harvest the fields wherein they fought. + + Another guest that winter night + Flashed back from lustrous eyes the light. + Unmarked by time, and yet not young, + The honeyed music of her tongue + And words of meekness scarcely told + A nature passionate and bold, + Strong, self-concentred, spurning guide, + Its milder features dwarfed beside + Her unbent will's majestic pride. + She sat among us, at the best, + A not unfeared, half-welcome guest, + Rebuking with her cultured phrase + Our homeliness of words and ways. + A certain pard-like, treacherous grace + Swayed the lithe limbs and dropped the lash, + Lent the white teeth their dazzling flash; + And under low brows, black with night, + Rayed out at times a dangerous light; + The sharp heat-lightnings of her face + Presaging ill to him whom Fate + Condemned to share her love or hate. + A woman tropical, intense + In thought and act, in soul and sense, + She blended in a like degree + The vixen and the devotee, + Revealing with each freak or feint + The temper of Petruchio's Kate, + The raptures of Siena's saint. + Her tapering hand and rounded wrist + Had facile power to form a fist; + The warm, dark languish of her eyes + Was never safe from wrath's surprise. + Brows saintly calm and lips devout + Knew every change of scowl and pout; + And the sweet voice had notes more high + And shrill for social battle-cry. + + Since then what old cathedral town + Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown, + What convent-gate has held its lock + Against the challenge of her knock! + Through Smyrna's plague-hushed thoroughfares, + Up sea-set Malta's rocky stairs, + Gray olive slopes of hills that hem + Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem, + Or startling on her desert throne + The crazy Queen of Lebanon s + With claims fantastic as her own, + Her tireless feet have held their way; + And still, unrestful, bowed, and gray, + She watches under Eastern skies, + With hope each day renewed and fresh, + The Lord's quick coming in the flesh, + Whereof she dreams and prophesies! + + Where'er her troubled path may be, + The Lord's sweet pity with her go! + The outward wayward life we see, + The hidden springs we may not know. + Nor is it given us to discern + What threads the fatal sisters spun, + Through what ancestral years has run + The sorrow with the woman born, + What forged her cruel chain of moods, + What set her feet in solitudes, + And held the love within her mute, + What mingled madness in the blood, + A life-long discord and annoy, + Water of tears with oil of joy, + And hid within the folded bud + Perversities of flower and fruit. + It is not ours to separate + The tangled skein of will and fate, + To show what metes and bounds should stand + Upon the soul's debatable land, + And between choice and Providence + Divide the circle of events; + But lie who knows our frame is just, + Merciful and compassionate, + And full of sweet assurances + And hope for all the language is, + That He remembereth we are dust! + + At last the great logs, crumbling low, + Sent out a dull and duller glow, + The bull's-eye watch that hung in view, + Ticking its weary circuit through, + Pointed with mutely warning sign + Its black hand to the hour of nine. + That sign the pleasant circle broke + My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke, + Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray, + And laid it tenderly away, + Then roused himself to safely cover + The dull red brands with ashes over. + And while, with care, our mother laid + The work aside, her steps she stayed + One moment, seeking to express + Her grateful sense of happiness + For food and shelter, warmth and health, + And love's contentment more than wealth, + With simple wishes (not the weak, + Vain prayers which no fulfilment seek, + But such as warm the generous heart, + O'er-prompt to do with Heaven its part) + That none might lack, that bitter night, + For bread and clothing, warmth and light. + + Within our beds awhile we heard + The wind that round the gables roared, + With now and then a ruder shock, + Which made our very bedsteads rock. + We heard the loosened clapboards tost, + The board-nails snapping in the frost; + And on us, through the unplastered wall, + Felt the light sifted snow-flakes fall. + But sleep stole on, as sleep will do + When hearts are light and life is new; + Faint and more faint the murmurs grew, + Till in the summer-land of dreams + They softened to the sound of streams, + Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars, + And lapsing waves on quiet shores. + + Next morn we wakened with the shout + Of merry voices high and clear; + And saw the teamsters drawing near + To break the drifted highways out. + Down the long hillside treading slow + We saw the half-buried oxen' go, + Shaking the snow from heads uptost, + Their straining nostrils white with frost. + Before our door the straggling train + Drew up, an added team to gain. + The elders threshed their hands a-cold, + Passed, with the cider-mug, their jokes + From lip to lip; the younger folks + Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, rolled, + Then toiled again the cavalcade + O'er windy hill, through clogged ravine, + And woodland paths that wound between + Low drooping pine-boughs winter-weighed. + From every barn a team afoot, + At every house a new recruit, + Where, drawn by Nature's subtlest law + Haply the watchful young men saw + Sweet doorway pictures of the curls + And curious eyes of merry girls, + Lifting their hands in mock defence + Against the snow-ball's compliments, + And reading in each missive tost + The charm with Eden never lost. + + We heard once more the sleigh-bells' sound; + And, following where the teamsters led, + The wise old Doctor went his round, + Just pausing at our door to say, + In the brief autocratic way + Of one who, prompt at Duty's call, + Was free to urge her claim on all, + That some poor neighbor sick abed + At night our mother's aid would need. + For, one in generous thought and deed, + What mattered in the sufferer's sight + The Quaker matron's inward light, + The Doctor's mail of Calvin's creed? + All hearts confess the saints elect + Who, twain in faith, in love agree, + And melt not in an acid sect + The Christian pearl of charity! + + So days went on: a week had passed + Since the great world was heard from last. + The Almanac we studied o'er, + Read and reread our little store, + Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score; + One harmless novel, mostly hid + From younger eyes, a book forbid, + And poetry, (or good or bad, + A single book was all we had,) + Where Ellwood's meek, drab-skirted Muse, + A stranger to the heathen Nine, + Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine, + The wars of David and the Jews. + At last the floundering carrier bore + The village paper to our door. + Lo! broadening outward as we read, + To warmer zones the horizon spread; + In panoramic length unrolled + We saw the marvels that it told. + Before us passed the painted Creeks, + And daft McGregor on his raids + In Costa Rica's everglades. + And up Taygetos winding slow + Rode Ypsilanti's Mainote Greeks, + A Turk's head at each saddle-bow + Welcome to us its week-old news, + Its corner for the rustic Muse, + Its monthly gauge of snow and rain, + Its record, mingling in a breath + The wedding bell and dirge of death; + Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale, + The latest culprit sent to jail; + Its hue and cry of stolen and lost, + Its vendue sales and goods at cost, + And traffic calling loud for gain. + We felt the stir of hall and street, + The pulse of life that round us beat; + The chill embargo of the snow + Was melted in the genial glow; + Wide swung again our ice-locked door, + And all the world was ours once more! + + Clasp, Angel of the backward look + And folded wings of ashen gray + And voice of echoes far away, + The brazen covers of thy book; + The weird palimpsest old and vast, + Wherein thou hid'st the spectral past; + Where, closely mingling, pale and glow + The characters of joy and woe; + The monographs of outlived years, + Or smile-illumed or dim with tears, + Green hills of life that slope to death, + And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees + Shade off to mournful cypresses + With the white amaranths underneath. + Even while I look, I can but heed + The restless sands' incessant fall, + Importunate hours that hours succeed, + Each clamorous with its own sharp need, + And duty keeping pace with all. + Shut down and clasp the heavy lids; + I hear again the voice that bids + The dreamer leave his dream midway + For larger hopes and graver fears + Life greatens in these later years, + The century's aloe flowers to-day! + + Yet, haply, in some lull of life, + Some Truce of God which breaks its strife, + The worldling's eyes shall gather dew, + Dreaming in throngful city ways + Of winter joys his boyhood knew; + And dear and early friends--the few + Who yet remain--shall pause to view + These Flemish pictures of old days; + Sit with me by the homestead hearth, + And stretch the hands of memory forth + To warm them at the wood-fire's blaze! + And thanks untraced to lips unknown + Shall greet me like the odors blown + From unseen meadows newly mown, + Or lilies floating in some pond, + Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond; + The traveller owns the grateful sense + Of sweetness near, he knows not whence, + And, pausing, takes with forehead bare + The benediction of the air. + + 1866. + + + + +MY TRIUMPH. + + The autumn-time has come; + On woods that dream of bloom, + And over purpling vines, + The low sun fainter shines. + + The aster-flower is failing, + The hazel's gold is paling; + Yet overhead more near + The eternal stars appear! + + And present gratitude + Insures the future's good, + And for the things I see + I trust the things to be; + + That in the paths untrod, + And the long days of God, + My feet shall still be led, + My heart be comforted. + + O living friends who love me! + O dear ones gone above me! + Careless of other fame, + I leave to you my name. + + Hide it from idle praises, + Save it from evil phrases + Why, when dear lips that spake it + Are dumb, should strangers wake it? + + Let the thick curtain fall; + I better know than all + How little I have gained, + How vast the unattained. + + Not by the page word-painted + Let life be banned or sainted + Deeper than written scroll + The colors of the soul. + + Sweeter than any sung + My songs that found no tongue; + Nobler than any fact + My wish that failed of act. + + Others shall sing the song, + Others shall right the wrong,-- + Finish what I begin, + And all I fail of win. + + What matter, I or they? + Mine or another's day, + So the right word be said + And life the sweeter made? + + Hail to the coming singers + Hail to the brave light-bringers! + Forward I reach and share + All that they sing and dare. + + The airs of heaven blow o'er me; + A glory shines before me + Of what mankind shall be,-- + Pure, generous, brave, and free. + + A dream of man and woman + Diviner but still human, + Solving the riddle old, + Shaping the Age of Gold. + + The love of God and neighbor; + An equal-handed labor; + The richer life, where beauty + Walks hand in hand with duty. + + Ring, bells in unreared steeples, + The joy of unborn peoples! + Sound, trumpets far off blown, + Your triumph is my own! + + Parcel and part of all, + I keep the festival, + Fore-reach the good to be, + And share the victory. + + I feel the earth move sunward, + I join the great march onward, + And take, by faith, while living, + My freehold of thanksgiving. + + 1870. + + + + +IN SCHOOL-DAYS. + + Still sits the school-house by the road, + A ragged beggar sleeping; + Around it still the sumachs grow, + And blackberry-vines are creeping. + + Within, the master's desk is seen, + Deep scarred by raps official; + The warping floor, the battered seats, + The jack-knife's carved initial; + + The charcoal frescos on its wall; + Its door's worn sill, betraying + The feet that, creeping slow to school, + Went storming out to playing! + + Long years ago a winter sun + Shone over it at setting; + Lit up its western window-panes, + And low eaves' icy fretting. + + It touched the tangled golden curls, + And brown eyes full of grieving, + Of one who still her steps delayed + When all the school were leaving. + + For near her stood the little boy + Her childish favor singled: + His cap pulled low upon a face + Where pride and shame were mingled. + + Pushing with restless feet the snow + To right and left, he lingered;-- + As restlessly her tiny hands + The blue-checked apron fingered. + + He saw her lift her eyes; he felt + The soft hand's light caressing, + And heard the tremble of her voice, + As if a fault confessing. + + "I 'm sorry that I spelt the word + I hate to go above you, + Because,"--the brown eyes lower fell,-- + "Because you see, I love you!" + + Still memory to a gray-haired man + That sweet child-face is showing. + Dear girl! the grasses on her grave + Have forty years been growing! + + He lives to learn, in life's hard school, + How few who pass above him + Lament their triumph and his loss, + Like her,--because they love him. + + + + +MY BIRTHDAY. + + Beneath the moonlight and the snow + Lies dead my latest year; + The winter winds are wailing low + Its dirges in my ear. + + I grieve not with the moaning wind + As if a loss befell; + Before me, even as behind, + God is, and all is well! + + His light shines on me from above, + His low voice speaks within,-- + The patience of immortal love + Outwearying mortal sin. + + Not mindless of the growing years + Of care and loss and pain, + My eyes are wet with thankful tears + For blessings which remain. + + If dim the gold of life has grown, + I will not count it dross, + Nor turn from treasures still my own + To sigh for lack and loss. + + The years no charm from Nature take; + As sweet her voices call, + As beautiful her mornings break, + As fair her evenings fall. + + Love watches o'er my quiet ways, + Kind voices speak my name, + And lips that find it hard to praise + Are slow, at least, to blame. + + How softly ebb the tides of will! + How fields, once lost or won, + Now lie behind me green and still + Beneath a level sun. + + How hushed the hiss of party hate, + The clamor of the throng! + How old, harsh voices of debate + Flow into rhythmic song! + + Methinks the spirit's temper grows + Too soft in this still air; + Somewhat the restful heart foregoes + Of needed watch and prayer. + + The bark by tempest vainly tossed + May founder in the calm, + And he who braved the polar frost + Faint by the isles of balm. + + Better than self-indulgent years + The outflung heart of youth, + Than pleasant songs in idle ears + The tumult of the truth. + + Rest for the weary hands is good, + And love for hearts that pine, + But let the manly habitude + Of upright souls be mine. + + Let winds that blow from heaven refresh, + Dear Lord, the languid air; + And let the weakness of the flesh + Thy strength of spirit share. + + And, if the eye must fail of light, + The ear forget to hear, + Make clearer still the spirit's sight, + More fine the inward ear! + + Be near me in mine hours of need + To soothe, or cheer, or warn, + And down these slopes of sunset lead + As up the hills of morn! + + 1871. + + + + +RED RIDING-HOOD. + + On the wide lawn the snow lay deep, + Ridged o'er with many a drifted heap; + The wind that through the pine-trees sung + The naked elm-boughs tossed and swung; + While, through the window, frosty-starred, + Against the sunset purple barred, + We saw the sombre crow flap by, + The hawk's gray fleck along the sky, + The crested blue-jay flitting swift, + The squirrel poising on the drift, + Erect, alert, his broad gray tail + Set to the north wind like a sail. + + It came to pass, our little lass, + With flattened face against the glass, + And eyes in which the tender dew + Of pity shone, stood gazing through + The narrow space her rosy lips + Had melted from the frost's eclipse + "Oh, see," she cried, "the poor blue-jays! + What is it that the black crow says? + The squirrel lifts his little legs + Because he has no hands, and begs; + He's asking for my nuts, I know + May I not feed them on the snow?" + + Half lost within her boots, her head + Warm-sheltered in her hood of red, + Her plaid skirt close about her drawn, + She floundered down the wintry lawn; + Now struggling through the misty veil + Blown round her by the shrieking gale; + Now sinking in a drift so low + Her scarlet hood could scarcely show + Its dash of color on the snow. + + She dropped for bird and beast forlorn + Her little store of nuts and corn, + And thus her timid guests bespoke + "Come, squirrel, from your hollow oak,-- + Come, black old crow,--come, poor blue-jay, + Before your supper's blown away + Don't be afraid, we all are good; + And I'm mamma's Red Riding-Hood!" + + O Thou whose care is over all, + Who heedest even the sparrow's fall, + Keep in the little maiden's breast + The pity which is now its guest! + Let not her cultured years make less + The childhood charm of tenderness, + But let her feel as well as know, + Nor harder with her polish grow! + Unmoved by sentimental grief + That wails along some printed leaf, + But, prompt with kindly word and deed + To own the claims of all who need, + Let the grown woman's self make good + The promise of Red Riding-Hood. + + 1877. + + + + +RESPONSE. + +On the occasion of my seventieth birthday in 1877, I was the recipient +of many tokens of esteem. The publishers of the _Atlantic Monthly_ gave +a dinner in my name, and the editor of _The Literary World_ gathered in +his paper many affectionate messages from my associates in literature +and the cause of human progress. The lines which follow were written in +acknowledgment. + + Beside that milestone where the level sun, + Nigh unto setting, sheds his last, low rays + On word and work irrevocably done, + Life's blending threads of good and ill outspun, + I hear, O friends! your words of cheer and praise, + Half doubtful if myself or otherwise. + Like him who, in the old Arabian joke, + A beggar slept and crowned Caliph woke. + Thanks not the less. With not unglad surprise + I see my life-work through your partial eyes; + Assured, in giving to my home-taught songs + A higher value than of right belongs, + You do but read between the written lines + The finer grace of unfulfilled designs. + + + + +AT EVENTIDE. + + Poor and inadequate the shadow-play + Of gain and loss, of waking and of dream, + Against life's solemn background needs must seem + At this late hour. Yet, not unthankfully, + I call to mind the fountains by the way, + The breath of flowers, the bird-song on the spray, + Dear friends, sweet human loves, the joy of giving + And of receiving, the great boon of living + In grand historic years when Liberty + Had need of word and work, quick sympathies + For all who fail and suffer, song's relief, + Nature's uncloying loveliness; and chief, + The kind restraining hand of Providence, + The inward witness, the assuring sense + Of an Eternal Good which overlies + The sorrow of the world, Love which outlives + All sin and wrong, Compassion which forgives + To the uttermost, and Justice whose clear eyes + Through lapse and failure look to the intent, + And judge our frailty by the life we meant. + + 1878. + + + + +VOYAGE OF THE JETTIE. + +The picturesquely situated Wayside Inn at West Ossipee, N. H., is now in +ashes; and to its former guests these somewhat careless rhymes may be a +not unwelcome reminder of pleasant summers and autumns on the banks of +the Bearcamp and Chocorua. To the author himself they have a special +interest from the fact that they were written, or improvised, under the +eye and for the amusement of a beloved invalid friend whose last earthly +sunsets faded from the mountain ranges of Ossipee and Sandwich. + + + A shallow stream, from fountains + Deep in the Sandwich mountains, + Ran lake ward Bearcamp River; + And, between its flood-torn shores, + Sped by sail or urged by oars + No keel had vexed it ever. + + Alone the dead trees yielding + To the dull axe Time is wielding, + The shy mink and the otter, + And golden leaves and red, + By countless autumns shed, + Had floated down its water. + + From the gray rocks of Cape Ann, + Came a skilled seafaring man, + With his dory, to the right place; + Over hill and plain he brought her, + Where the boatless Beareamp water + Comes winding down from White-Face. + + Quoth the skipper: "Ere she floats forth; + I'm sure my pretty boat's worth, + At least, a name as pretty." + On her painted side he wrote it, + And the flag that o'er her floated + Bore aloft the name of Jettie. + + On a radiant morn of summer, + Elder guest and latest comer + Saw her wed the Bearcamp water; + Heard the name the skipper gave her, + And the answer to the favor + From the Bay State's graceful daughter. + + Then, a singer, richly gifted, + Her charmed voice uplifted; + And the wood-thrush and song-sparrow + Listened, dumb with envious pain, + To the clear and sweet refrain + Whose notes they could not borrow. + + Then the skipper plied his oar, + And from off the shelving shore, + Glided out the strange explorer; + Floating on, she knew not whither,-- + The tawny sands beneath her, + The great hills watching o'er her. + + On, where the stream flows quiet + As the meadows' margins by it, + Or widens out to borrow a + New life from that wild water, + The mountain giant's daughter, + The pine-besung Chocorua. + + Or, mid the tangling cumber + And pack of mountain lumber + That spring floods downward force, + Over sunken snag, and bar + Where the grating shallows are, + The good boat held her course. + + Under the pine-dark highlands, + Around the vine-hung islands, + She ploughed her crooked furrow + And her rippling and her lurches + Scared the river eels and perches, + And the musk-rat in his burrow. + + Every sober clam below her, + Every sage and grave pearl-grower, + Shut his rusty valves the tighter; + Crow called to crow complaining, + And old tortoises sat craning + Their leathern necks to sight her. + + So, to where the still lake glasses + The misty mountain masses + Rising dim and distant northward, + And, with faint-drawn shadow pictures, + Low shores, and dead pine spectres, + Blends the skyward and the earthward, + + On she glided, overladen, + With merry man and maiden + Sending back their song and laughter,-- + While, perchance, a phantom crew, + In a ghostly birch canoe, + Paddled dumb and swiftly after! + + And the bear on Ossipee + Climbed the topmost crag to see + The strange thing drifting under; + And, through the haze of August, + Passaconaway and Paugus + Looked down in sleepy wonder. + + All the pines that o'er her hung + In mimic sea-tones sung + The song familiar to her; + And the maples leaned to screen her, + And the meadow-grass seemed greener, + And the breeze more soft to woo her. + + The lone stream mystery-haunted, + To her the freedom granted + To scan its every feature, + Till new and old were blended, + And round them both extended + The loving arms of Nature. + + Of these hills the little vessel + Henceforth is part and parcel; + And on Bearcamp shall her log + Be kept, as if by George's + Or Grand Menan, the surges + Tossed her skipper through the fog. + + And I, who, half in sadness, + Recall the morning gladness + Of life, at evening time, + By chance, onlooking idly, + Apart from all so widely, + Have set her voyage to rhyme. + + Dies now the gay persistence + Of song and laugh, in distance; + Alone with me remaining + The stream, the quiet meadow, + The hills in shine and shadow, + The sombre pines complaining. + + And, musing here, I dream + Of voyagers on a stream + From whence is no returning, + Under sealed orders going, + Looking forward little knowing, + Looking back with idle yearning. + + And I pray that every venture + The port of peace may enter, + That, safe from snag and fall + And siren-haunted islet, + And rock, the Unseen Pilot + May guide us one and all. + + 1880. + + + + +MY TRUST. + + A picture memory brings to me + I look across the years and see + Myself beside my mother's knee. + + I feel her gentle hand restrain + My selfish moods, and know again + A child's blind sense of wrong and pain. + + But wiser now, a man gray grown, + My childhood's needs are better known, + My mother's chastening love I own. + + Gray grown, but in our Father's sight + A child still groping for the light + To read His works and ways aright. + + I wait, in His good time to see + That as my mother dealt with me + So with His children dealeth He. + + I bow myself beneath His hand + That pain itself was wisely planned + I feel, and partly understand. + + The joy that comes in sorrow's guise, + The sweet pains of self-sacrifice, + I would not have them otherwise. + + And what were life and death if sin + Knew not the dread rebuke within, + The pang of merciful discipline? + + Not with thy proud despair of old, + Crowned stoic of Rome's noblest mould! + Pleasure and pain alike I hold. + + I suffer with no vain pretence + Of triumph over flesh and sense, + Yet trust the grievous providence, + + How dark soe'er it seems, may tend, + By ways I cannot comprehend, + To some unguessed benignant end; + + That every loss and lapse may gain + The clear-aired heights by steps of pain, + And never cross is borne in vain. + + 1880. + + + + +A NAME + +Addressed to my grand-nephew, Greenleaf Whittier Pickard. Jonathan +Greenleaf, in A Genealogy of the Greenleaf Family, says briefly: "From +all that can be gathered, it is believed that the ancestors of the +Greenleaf family were Huguenots, who left France on account of their +religious principles some time in the course of the sixteenth century, +and settled in England. The name was probably translated from the French +Feuillevert." + + + The name the Gallic exile bore, + St. Malo! from thy ancient mart, + Became upon our Western shore + Greenleaf for Feuillevert. + + A name to hear in soft accord + Of leaves by light winds overrun, + Or read, upon the greening sward + Of May, in shade and sun. + + The name my infant ear first heard + Breathed softly with a mother's kiss; + His mother's own, no tenderer word + My father spake than this. + + No child have I to bear it on; + Be thou its keeper; let it take + From gifts well used and duty done + New beauty for thy sake. + + The fair ideals that outran + My halting footsteps seek and find-- + The flawless symmetry of man, + The poise of heart and mind. + + Stand firmly where I felt the sway + Of every wing that fancy flew, + See clearly where I groped my way, + Nor real from seeming knew. + + And wisely choose, and bravely hold + Thy faith unswerved by cross or crown, + Like the stout Huguenot of old + Whose name to thee comes down. + + As Marot's songs made glad the heart + Of that lone exile, haply mine + May in life's heavy hours impart + Some strength and hope to thine. + + Yet when did Age transfer to Youth + The hard-gained lessons of its day? + Each lip must learn the taste of truth, + Each foot must feel its way. + + We cannot hold the hands of choice + That touch or shun life's fateful keys; + The whisper of the inward voice + Is more than homilies. + + Dear boy! for whom the flowers are born, + Stars shine, and happy song-birds sing, + What can my evening give to morn, + My winter to thy spring! + + A life not void of pure intent, + With small desert of praise or blame, + The love I felt, the good I meant, + I leave thee with my name. + + 1880. + + + + +GREETING. + +Originally prefixed to the volume, The King's Missive and other Poems. + + + I spread a scanty board too late; + The old-time guests for whom I wait + Come few and slow, methinks, to-day. + Ah! who could hear my messages + Across the dim unsounded seas + On which so many have sailed away! + + Come, then, old friends, who linger yet, + And let us meet, as we have met, + Once more beneath this low sunshine; + And grateful for the good we 've known, + The riddles solved, the ills outgrown, + Shake bands upon the border line. + + The favor, asked too oft before, + From your indulgent ears, once more + I crave, and, if belated lays + To slower, feebler measures move, + The silent, sympathy of love + To me is dearer now than praise. + + And ye, O younger friends, for whom + My hearth and heart keep open room, + Come smiling through the shadows long, + Be with me while the sun goes down, + And with your cheerful voices drown + The minor of my even-song. + + For, equal through the day and night, + The wise Eternal oversight + And love and power and righteous will + Remain: the law of destiny + The best for each and all must be, + And life its promise shall fulfil. + + 1881. + + + + +AN AUTOGRAPH. + + I write my name as one, + On sands by waves o'errun + Or winter's frosted pane, + Traces a record vain. + + Oblivion's blankness claims + Wiser and better names, + And well my own may pass + As from the strand or glass. + + Wash on, O waves of time! + Melt, noons, the frosty rime! + Welcome the shadow vast, + The silence that shall last. + + When I and all who know + And love me vanish so, + What harm to them or me + Will the lost memory be? + + If any words of mine, + Through right of life divine, + Remain, what matters it + Whose hand the message writ? + + Why should the "crowner's quest" + Sit on my worst or best? + Why should the showman claim + The poor ghost of my name? + + Yet, as when dies a sound + Its spectre lingers round, + Haply my spent life will + Leave some faint echo still. + + A whisper giving breath + Of praise or blame to death, + Soothing or saddening such + As loved the living much. + + Therefore with yearnings vain + And fond I still would fain + A kindly judgment seek, + A tender thought bespeak. + + And, while my words are read, + Let this at least be said + "Whate'er his life's defeatures, + He loved his fellow-creatures. + + "If, of the Law's stone table, + To hold he scarce was able + The first great precept fast, + He kept for man the last. + + "Through mortal lapse and dulness + What lacks the Eternal Fulness, + If still our weakness can + Love Him in loving man? + + "Age brought him no despairing + Of the world's future faring; + In human nature still + He found more good than ill. + + "To all who dumbly suffered, + His tongue and pen he offered; + His life was not his own, + Nor lived for self alone. + + "Hater of din and riot + He lived in days unquiet; + And, lover of all beauty, + Trod the hard ways of duty. + + "He meant no wrong to any + He sought the good of many, + Yet knew both sin and folly,-- + May God forgive him wholly!" + + 1882. + + + + +ABRAM MORRISON. + + 'Midst the men and things which will + Haunt an old man's memory still, + Drollest, quaintest of them all, + With a boy's laugh I recall + Good old Abram Morrison. + + When the Grist and Rolling Mill + Ground and rumbled by Po Hill, + And the old red school-house stood + Midway in the Powow's flood, + Here dwelt Abram Morrison. + + From the Beach to far beyond + Bear-Hill, Lion's Mouth and Pond, + Marvellous to our tough old stock, + Chips o' the Anglo-Saxon block, + Seemed the Celtic Morrison. + + Mudknock, Balmawhistle, all + Only knew the Yankee drawl, + Never brogue was heard till when, + Foremost of his countrymen, + Hither came Friend Morrison; + + Yankee born, of alien blood, + Kin of his had well withstood + Pope and King with pike and ball + Under Derry's leaguered wall, + As became the Morrisons. + + Wandering down from Nutfield woods + With his household and his goods, + Never was it clearly told + How within our quiet fold + Came to be a Morrison. + + Once a soldier, blame him not + That the Quaker he forgot, + When, to think of battles won, + And the red-coats on the run, + Laughed aloud Friend Morrison. + + From gray Lewis over sea + Bore his sires their family tree, + On the rugged boughs of it + Grafting Irish mirth and wit, + And the brogue of Morrison. + + Half a genius, quick to plan, + Blundering like an Irishman, + But with canny shrewdness lent + By his far-off Scotch descent, + Such was Abram Morrison. + + Back and forth to daily meals, + Rode his cherished pig on wheels, + And to all who came to see + "Aisier for the pig an' me, + Sure it is," said Morrison. + + Simple-hearted, boy o'er-grown, + With a humor quite his own, + Of our sober-stepping ways, + Speech and look and cautious phrase, + Slow to learn was Morrison. + + Much we loved his stories told + Of a country strange and old, + Where the fairies danced till dawn, + And the goblin Leprecaun + Looked, we thought, like Morrison. + + Or wild tales of feud and fight, + Witch and troll and second sight + Whispered still where Stornoway + Looks across its stormy bay, + Once the home of Morrisons. + + First was he to sing the praise + Of the Powow's winding ways; + And our straggling village took + City grandeur to the look + Of its poet Morrison. + + All his words have perished. Shame + On the saddle-bags of Fame, + That they bring not to our time + One poor couplet of the rhyme + Made by Abram Morrison! + + When, on calm and fair First Days, + Rattled down our one-horse chaise, + Through the blossomed apple-boughs + To the old, brown meeting-house, + There was Abram Morrison. + + Underneath his hat's broad brim + Peered the queer old face of him; + And with Irish jauntiness + Swung the coat-tails of the dress + Worn by Abram Morrison. + + Still, in memory, on his feet, + Leaning o'er the elders' seat, + Mingling with a solemn drone, + Celtic accents all his own, + Rises Abram Morrison. + + "Don't," he's pleading, "don't ye go, + Dear young friends, to sight and show, + Don't run after elephants, + Learned pigs and presidents + And the likes!" said Morrison. + + On his well-worn theme intent, + Simple, child-like, innocent, + Heaven forgive the half-checked smile + Of our careless boyhood, while + Listening to Friend Morrison! + + We have learned in later days + Truth may speak in simplest phrase; + That the man is not the less + For quaint ways and home-spun dress, + Thanks to Abram Morrison! + + Not to pander nor to please + Come the needed homilies, + With no lofty argument + Is the fitting message sent, + Through such lips as Morrison's. + + Dead and gone! But while its track + Powow keeps to Merrimac, + While Po Hill is still on guard, + Looking land and ocean ward, + They shall tell of Morrison! + + After half a century's lapse, + We are wiser now, perhaps, + But we miss our streets amid + Something which the past has hid, + Lost with Abram Morrison. + + Gone forever with the queer + Characters of that old year + Now the many are as one; + Broken is the mould that run + Men like Abram Morrison. + + 1884. + + + + +A LEGACY + + Friend of my many years + When the great silence falls, at last, on me, + Let me not leave, to pain and sadden thee, + A memory of tears, + + But pleasant thoughts alone + Of one who was thy friendship's honored guest + And drank the wine of consolation pressed + From sorrows of thy own. + + I leave with thee a sense + Of hands upheld and trials rendered less-- + The unselfish joy which is to helpfulness + Its own great recompense; + + The knowledge that from thine, + As from the garments of the Master, stole + Calmness and strength, the virtue which makes whole + And heals without a sign; + + Yea more, the assurance strong + That love, which fails of perfect utterance here, + Lives on to fill the heavenly atmosphere + With its immortal song. + + 1887. + + + + + +RELIGIOUS POEMS + + + + +THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM + + Where Time the measure of his hours + By changeful bud and blossom keeps, + And, like a young bride crowned with flowers, + Fair Shiraz in her garden sleeps; + + Where, to her poet's turban stone, + The Spring her gift of flowers imparts, + Less sweet than those his thoughts have sown + In the warm soil of Persian hearts: + + There sat the stranger, where the shade + Of scattered date-trees thinly lay, + While in the hot clear heaven delayed + The long and still and weary day. + + Strange trees and fruits above him hung, + Strange odors filled the sultry air, + Strange birds upon the branches swung, + Strange insect voices murmured there. + + And strange bright blossoms shone around, + Turned sunward from the shadowy bowers, + As if the Gheber's soul had found + A fitting home in Iran's flowers. + + Whate'er he saw, whate'er he heard, + Awakened feelings new and sad,-- + No Christian garb, nor Christian word, + Nor church with Sabbath-bell chimes glad, + + But Moslem graves, with turban stones, + And mosque-spires gleaming white, in view, + And graybeard Mollahs in low tones + Chanting their Koran service through. + + The flowers which smiled on either hand, + Like tempting fiends, were such as they + Which once, o'er all that Eastern land, + As gifts on demon altars lay. + + As if the burning eye of Baal + The servant of his Conqueror knew, + From skies which knew no cloudy veil, + The Sun's hot glances smote him through. + + "Ah me!" the lonely stranger said, + "The hope which led my footsteps on, + And light from heaven around them shed, + O'er weary wave and waste, is gone! + + "Where are the harvest fields all white, + For Truth to thrust her sickle in? + Where flock the souls, like doves in flight, + From the dark hiding-place of sin? + + "A silent-horror broods o'er all,-- + The burden of a hateful spell,-- + The very flowers around recall + The hoary magi's rites of hell! + + "And what am I, o'er such a land + The banner of the Cross to bear? + Dear Lord, uphold me with Thy hand, + Thy strength with human weakness share!" + + He ceased; for at his very feet + In mild rebuke a floweret smiled; + How thrilled his sinking heart to greet + The Star-flower of the Virgin's child! + + Sown by some wandering Frank, it drew + Its life from alien air and earth, + And told to Paynim sun and dew + The story of the Saviour's birth. + + From scorching beams, in kindly mood, + The Persian plants its beauty screened, + And on its pagan sisterhood, + In love, the Christian floweret leaned. + + With tears of joy the wanderer felt + The darkness of his long despair + Before that hallowed symbol melt, + Which God's dear love had nurtured there. + + From Nature's face, that simple flower + The lines of sin and sadness swept; + And Magian pile and Paynim bower + In peace like that of Eden slept. + + Each Moslem tomb, and cypress old, + Looked holy through the sunset air; + And, angel-like, the Muezzin told + From tower and mosque the hour of prayer. + + With cheerful steps, the morrow's dawn + From Shiraz saw the stranger part; + The Star-flower of the Virgin-Born + Still blooming in his hopeful heart! + + 1830. + + + + +THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN + + "Get ye up from the wrath of God's terrible day! + Ungirded, unsandalled, arise and away! + 'T is the vintage of blood, 't is the fulness of time, + And vengeance shall gather the harvest of crime!" + + The warning was spoken--the righteous had gone, + And the proud ones of Sodom were feasting alone; + All gay was the banquet--the revel was long, + With the pouring of wine and the breathing of song. + + 'T was an evening of beauty; the air was perfume, + The earth was all greenness, the trees were all bloom; + And softly the delicate viol was heard, + Like the murmur of love or the notes of a bird. + + And beautiful maidens moved down in the dance, + With the magic of motion and sunshine of glance + And white arms wreathed lightly, and tresses fell free + As the plumage of birds in some tropical tree. + + Where the shrines of foul idols were lighted on high, + And wantonness tempted the lust of the eye; + Midst rites of obsceneness, strange, loathsome, abhorred, + The blasphemer scoffed at the name of the Lord. + + Hark! the growl of the thunder,--the quaking of earth! + Woe, woe to the worship, and woe to the mirth! + The black sky has opened; there's flame in the air; + The red arm of vengeance is lifted and bare! + + Then the shriek of the dying rose wild where the song + And the low tone of love had been whispered along; + For the fierce flames went lightly o'er palace and bower, + Like the red tongues of demons, to blast and devour! + + Down, down on the fallen the red ruin rained, + And the reveller sank with his wine-cup undrained; + The foot of the dancer, the music's loved thrill, + And the shout and the laughter grew suddenly still. + + The last throb of anguish was fearfully given; + The last eye glared forth in its madness on Heaven! + The last groan of horror rose wildly and vain, + And death brooded over the pride of the Plain! + + 1831. + + + + +THE CALL OF THE CHRISTIAN + + Not always as the whirlwind's rush + On Horeb's mount of fear, + Not always as the burning bush + To Midian's shepherd seer, + Nor as the awful voice which came + To Israel's prophet bards, + Nor as the tongues of cloven flame, + Nor gift of fearful words,-- + + Not always thus, with outward sign + Of fire or voice from Heaven, + The message of a truth divine, + The call of God is given! + Awaking in the human heart + Love for the true and right,-- + Zeal for the Christian's better part, + Strength for the Christian's fight. + + Nor unto manhood's heart alone + The holy influence steals + Warm with a rapture not its own, + The heart of woman feels! + As she who by Samaria's wall + The Saviour's errand sought,-- + As those who with the fervent Paul + And meek Aquila wrought: + + Or those meek ones whose martyrdom + Rome's gathered grandeur saw + Or those who in their Alpine home + Braved the Crusader's war, + When the green Vaudois, trembling, heard, + Through all its vales of death, + The martyr's song of triumph poured + From woman's failing breath. + + And gently, by a thousand things + Which o'er our spirits pass, + Like breezes o'er the harp's fine strings, + Or vapors o'er a glass, + Leaving their token strange and new + Of music or of shade, + The summons to the right and true + And merciful is made. + + Oh, then, if gleams of truth and light + Flash o'er thy waiting mind, + Unfolding to thy mental sight + The wants of human-kind; + If, brooding over human grief, + The earnest wish is known + To soothe and gladden with relief + An anguish not thine own; + + Though heralded with naught of fear, + Or outward sign or show; + Though only to the inward ear + It whispers soft and low; + Though dropping, as the manna fell, + Unseen, yet from above, + Noiseless as dew-fall, heed it well,--- + Thy Father's call of love! + + + + +THE CRUCIFIXION. + + Sunlight upon Judha's hills! + And on the waves of Galilee; + On Jordan's stream, and on the rills + That feed the dead and sleeping sea! + Most freshly from the green wood springs + The light breeze on its scented wings; + And gayly quiver in the sun + The cedar tops of Lebanon! + + A few more hours,--a change hath come! + The sky is dark without a cloud! + The shouts of wrath and joy are dumb, + And proud knees unto earth are bowed. + A change is on the hill of Death, + The helmed watchers pant for breath, + And turn with wild and maniac eyes + From the dark scene of sacrifice! + + That Sacrifice!--the death of Him,-- + The Christ of God, the holy One! + Well may the conscious Heaven grow dim, + And blacken the beholding, Sun. + The wonted light hath fled away, + Night settles on the middle day, + And earthquake from his caverned bed + Is waking with a thrill of dread! + + The dead are waking underneath! + Their prison door is rent away! + And, ghastly with the seal of death, + They wander in the eye of day! + The temple of the Cherubim, + The House of God is cold and dim; + A curse is on its trembling walls, + Its mighty veil asunder falls! + + Well may the cavern-depths of Earth + Be shaken, and her mountains nod; + Well may the sheeted dead come forth + To see the suffering son of God! + Well may the temple-shrine grow dim, + And shadows veil the Cherubim, + When He, the chosen one of Heaven, + A sacrifice for guilt is given! + + And shall the sinful heart, alone, + Behold unmoved the fearful hour, + When Nature trembled on her throne, + And Death resigned his iron power? + Oh, shall the heart--whose sinfulness + Gave keenness to His sore distress, + And added to His tears of blood-- + Refuse its trembling gratitude! + + 1834. + + + + +PALESTINE + + Blest land of Judaea! thrice hallowed of song, + Where the holiest of memories pilgrim-like throng; + In the shade of thy palms, by the shores of thy sea, + On the hills of thy beauty, my heart is with thee. + + With the eye of a spirit I look on that shore + Where pilgrim and prophet have lingered before; + With the glide of a spirit I traverse the sod + Made bright by the steps of the angels of God. + + Blue sea of the hills! in my spirit I hear + Thy waters, Gennesaret, chime on my ear; + Where the Lowly and Just with the people sat down, + And thy spray on the dust of His sandals was thrown. + + Beyond are Bethulia's mountains of green, + And the desolate hills of the wild Gadarene; + And I pause on the goat-crags of Tabor to see + The gleam of thy waters, O dark Galilee! + + Hark, a sound in the valley! where, swollen and strong, + Thy river, O Kishon, is sweeping along; + Where the Canaanite strove with Jehovah in vain, + And thy torrent grew dark with the blood of the slain. + + There down from his mountains stern Zebulon came, + And Naphthali's stag, with his eyeballs of flame, + And the chariots of Jabin rolled harmlessly on, + For the arm of the Lord was Abinoam's son! + + There sleep the still rocks and the caverns which rang + To the song which the beautiful prophetess sang, + When the princes of Issachar stood by her side, + And the shout of a host in its triumph replied. + + Lo, Bethlehem's hill-site before me is seen, + With the mountains around, and the valleys between; + There rested the shepherds of Judah, and there + The song of the angels rose sweet on the air. + + And Bethany's palm-trees in beauty still throw + Their shadows at noon on the ruins below; + But where are the sisters who hastened to greet + The lowly Redeemer, and sit at His feet? + + I tread where the twelve in their wayfaring trod; + I stand where they stood with the chosen of God-- + Where His blessing was heard and His lessons were taught, + Where the blind were restored and the healing was wrought. + + Oh, here with His flock the sad Wanderer came; + These hills He toiled over in grief are the same; + The founts where He drank by the wayside still flow, + And the same airs are blowing which breathed on His brow! + + And throned on her hills sits Jerusalem yet, + But with dust on her forehead, and chains on her feet; + For the crown of her pride to the mocker hath gone, + And the holy Shechinah is dark where it shone. + + But wherefore this dream of the earthly abode + Of Humanity clothed in the brightness of God? + Were my spirit but turned from the outward and dim, + It could gaze, even now, on the presence of Him! + + Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle as when, + In love and in meekness, He moved among men; + And the voice which breathed peace to the waves of the sea + In the hush of my spirit would whisper to me! + + And what if my feet may not tread where He stood, + Nor my ears hear the dashing of Galilee's flood, + Nor my eyes see the cross which he bowed Him to bear, + Nor my knees press Gethsemane's garden of prayer. + + Yet, Loved of the Father, Thy Spirit is near + To the meek, and the lowly, and penitent here; + And the voice of Thy love is the same even now + As at Bethany's tomb or on Olivet's brow. + + Oh, the outward hath gone! but in glory and power. + The spirit surviveth the things of an hour; + Unchanged, undecaying, its Pentecost flame + On the heart's secret altar is burning the same + + 1837. + + + + + +HYMNS. + + + + +FROM THE FRENCH OF LAMARTINE + + I. + "Encore un hymne, O ma lyre + Un hymn pour le Seigneur, + Un hymne dans mon delire, + Un hymne dans mon bonheur." + + + One hymn more, O my lyre! + Praise to the God above, + Of joy and life and love, + Sweeping its strings of fire! + + Oh, who the speed of bird and wind + And sunbeam's glance will lend to me, + That, soaring upward, I may find + My resting-place and home in Thee? + Thou, whom my soul, midst doubt and gloom, + Adoreth with a fervent flame,-- + Mysterious spirit! unto whom + Pertain nor sign nor name! + + Swiftly my lyre's soft murmurs go, + Up from the cold and joyless earth, + Back to the God who bade them flow, + Whose moving spirit sent them forth. + But as for me, O God! for me, + The lowly creature of Thy will, + Lingering and sad, I sigh to Thee, + An earth-bound pilgrim still! + + Was not my spirit born to shine + Where yonder stars and suns are glowing? + To breathe with them the light divine + From God's own holy altar flowing? + To be, indeed, whate'er the soul + In dreams hath thirsted for so long,-- + A portion of heaven's glorious whole + Of loveliness and song? + + Oh, watchers of the stars at night, + Who breathe their fire, as we the air,-- + Suns, thunders, stars, and rays of light, + Oh, say, is He, the Eternal, there? + Bend there around His awful throne + The seraph's glance, the angel's knee? + Or are thy inmost depths His own, + O wild and mighty sea? + + Thoughts of my soul, how swift ye go! + Swift as the eagle's glance of fire, + Or arrows from the archer's bow, + To the far aim of your desire! + Thought after thought, ye thronging rise, + Like spring-doves from the startled wood, + Bearing like them your sacrifice + Of music unto God! + + And shall these thoughts of joy and love + Come back again no more to me? + Returning like the patriarch's dove + Wing-weary from the eternal sea, + To bear within my longing arms + The promise-bough of kindlier skies, + Plucked from the green, immortal palms + Which shadow Paradise? + + All-moving spirit! freely forth + At Thy command the strong wind goes + Its errand to the passive earth, + Nor art can stay, nor strength oppose, + Until it folds its weary wing + Once more within the hand divine; + So, weary from its wandering, + My spirit turns to Thine! + + Child of the sea, the mountain stream, + From its dark caverns, hurries on, + Ceaseless, by night and morning's beam, + By evening's star and noontide's sun, + Until at last it sinks to rest, + O'erwearied, in the waiting sea, + And moans upon its mother's breast,-- + So turns my soul to Thee! + + O Thou who bidst the torrent flow, + Who lendest wings unto the wind,-- + Mover of all things! where art Thou? + Oh, whither shall I go to find + The secret of Thy resting-place? + Is there no holy wing for me, + That, soaring, I may search the space + Of highest heaven for Thee? + + Oh, would I were as free to rise + As leaves on autumn's whirlwind borne,-- + The arrowy light of sunset skies, + Or sound, or ray, or star of morn, + Which melts in heaven at twilight's close, + Or aught which soars unchecked and free + Through earth and heaven; that I might lose + Myself in finding Thee! + + + II. + LE CRI DE L'AME. + + "Quand le souffle divin qui flotte sur le monde." + + When the breath divine is flowing, + Zephyr-like o'er all things going, + And, as the touch of viewless fingers, + Softly on my soul it lingers, + Open to a breath the lightest, + Conscious of a touch the slightest,-- + As some calm, still lake, whereon + Sinks the snowy-bosomed swan, + And the glistening water-rings + Circle round her moving wings + When my upward gaze is turning + Where the stars of heaven are burning + Through the deep and dark abyss, + Flowers of midnight's wilderness, + Blowing with the evening's breath + Sweetly in their Maker's path + When the breaking day is flushing + All the east, and light is gushing + Upward through the horizon's haze, + Sheaf-like, with its thousand rays, + Spreading, until all above + Overflows with joy and love, + And below, on earth's green bosom, + All is changed to light and blossom: + + When my waking fancies over + Forms of brightness flit and hover + Holy as the seraphs are, + Who by Zion's fountains wear + On their foreheads, white and broad, + "Holiness unto the Lord!" + When, inspired with rapture high, + It would seem a single sigh + Could a world of love create; + That my life could know no date, + And my eager thoughts could fill + Heaven and Earth, o'erflowing still! + + Then, O Father! Thou alone, + From the shadow of Thy throne, + To the sighing of my breast + And its rapture answerest. + All my thoughts, which, upward winging, + Bathe where Thy own light is springing,-- + All my yearnings to be free + Are at echoes answering Thee! + + Seldom upon lips of mine, + Father! rests that name of Thine; + Deep within my inmost breast, + In the secret place of mind, + Like an awful presence shrined, + Doth the dread idea rest + Hushed and holy dwells it there, + Prompter of the silent prayer, + Lifting up my spirit's eye + And its faint, but earnest cry, + From its dark and cold abode, + Unto Thee, my Guide and God! + + 1837 + + + + +THE FAMILIST'S HYMN. + +The Puritans of New England, even in their wilderness home, were not +exempted from the sectarian contentions which agitated the mother +country after the downfall of Charles the First, and of the established +Episcopacy. The Quakers, Baptists, and Catholics were banished, on pain +of death, from the Massachusetts Colony. One Samuel Gorton, a bold and +eloquent declaimer, after preaching for a time in Boston against the +doctrines of the Puritans, and declaring that their churches were mere +human devices, and their sacrament and baptism an abomination, was +driven out of the jurisdiction of the colony, and compelled to seek a +residence among the savages. He gathered round him a considerable number +of converts, who, like the primitive Christians, shared all things in +common. His opinions, however, were so troublesome to the leading clergy +of the colony, that they instigated an attack upon his "Family" by an +armed force, which seized upon the principal men in it, and brought them +into Massachusetts, where they were sentenced to be kept at hard labor +in several towns (one only in each town), during the pleasure of the +General Court, they being forbidden, under severe penalties, to utter +any of their religious sentiments, except to such ministers as might +labor for their conversion. They were unquestionably sincere in their +opinions, and, whatever may have been their errors, deserve to be ranked +among those who have in all ages suffered for the freedom of conscience. + + + Father! to Thy suffering poor + Strength and grace and faith impart, + And with Thy own love restore + Comfort to the broken heart! + Oh, the failing ones confirm + With a holier strength of zeal! + Give Thou not the feeble worm + Helpless to the spoiler's heel! + + Father! for Thy holy sake + We are spoiled and hunted thus; + Joyful, for Thy truth we take + Bonds and burthens unto us + Poor, and weak, and robbed of all, + Weary with our daily task, + That Thy truth may never fall + Through our weakness, Lord, we ask. + + Round our fired and wasted homes + Flits the forest-bird unscared, + And at noon the wild beast comes + Where our frugal meal was shared; + For the song of praises there + Shrieks the crow the livelong day; + For the sound of evening prayer + Howls the evil beast of prey! + + Sweet the songs we loved to sing + Underneath Thy holy sky; + Words and tones that used to bring + Tears of joy in every eye; + Dear the wrestling hours of prayer, + When we gathered knee to knee, + Blameless youth and hoary hair, + Bowed, O God, alone to Thee. + + As Thine early children, Lord, + Shared their wealth and daily bread, + Even so, with one accord, + We, in love, each other fed. + Not with us the miser's hoard, + Not with us his grasping hand; + Equal round a common board, + Drew our meek and brother band! + + Safe our quiet Eden lay + When the war-whoop stirred the land + And the Indian turned away + From our home his bloody hand. + Well that forest-ranger saw, + That the burthen and the curse + Of the white man's cruel law + Rested also upon us. + + Torn apart, and driven forth + To our toiling hard and long, + Father! from the dust of earth + Lift we still our grateful song! + Grateful, that in bonds we share + In Thy love which maketh free; + Joyful, that the wrongs we bear, + Draw us nearer, Lord, to Thee! + + Grateful! that where'er we toil,-- + By Wachuset's wooded side, + On Nantucket's sea-worn isle, + Or by wild Neponset's tide,-- + Still, in spirit, we are near, + And our evening hymns, which rise + Separate and discordant here, + Meet and mingle in the skies! + + Let the scoffer scorn and mock, + Let the proud and evil priest + Rob the needy of his flock, + For his wine-cup and his feast,-- + Redden not Thy bolts in store + Through the blackness of Thy skies? + For the sighing of the poor + Wilt Thou not, at length, arise? + + Worn and wasted, oh! how long + Shall thy trodden poor complain? + In Thy name they bear the wrong, + In Thy cause the bonds of pain! + Melt oppression's heart of steel, + Let the haughty priesthood see, + And their blinded followers feel, + That in us they mock at Thee! + + In Thy time, O Lord of hosts, + Stretch abroad that hand to save + Which of old, on Egypt's coasts, + Smote apart the Red Sea's wave + Lead us from this evil land, + From the spoiler set us free, + And once more our gathered band, + Heart to heart, shall worship Thee! + + 1838. + + + + +EZEKIEL + +Also, thou son of man, the children of thy people still are talking +against thee by the walls and in the doors of the houses, and speak one +to another, every one to his brother, saying, Come, I pray you, and hear +what is the word that cometh forth from the Lord. And they come unto +thee as the people cometh, and they sit before thee as my people, and +they hear thy words, but they will not do them: for with their mouth +they skew much love, but their heart goeth after their covetousness. +And, lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a +pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument: for they hear thy +words, but they do them not. And when this cometh to pass, (lo, it will +come,) then shall they know that a prophet hath been among them.-- +EZEKIEL, xxxiii. 30-33. + + + They hear Thee not, O God! nor see; + Beneath Thy rod they mock at Thee; + The princes of our ancient line + Lie drunken with Assyrian wine; + The priests around Thy altar speak + The false words which their hearers seek; + And hymns which Chaldea's wanton maids + Have sung in Dura's idol-shades + Are with the Levites' chant ascending, + With Zion's holiest anthems blending! + + On Israel's bleeding bosom set, + The heathen heel is crushing yet; + The towers upon our holy hill + Echo Chaldean footsteps still. + Our wasted shrines,--who weeps for them? + Who mourneth for Jerusalem? + Who turneth from his gains away? + Whose knee with mine is bowed to pray? + Who, leaving feast and purpling cup, + Takes Zion's lamentation up? + + A sad and thoughtful youth, I went + With Israel's early banishment; + And where the sullen Chebar crept, + The ritual of my fathers kept. + The water for the trench I drew, + The firstling of the flock I slew, + And, standing at the altar's side, + I shared the Levites' lingering pride, + That still, amidst her mocking foes, + The smoke of Zion's offering rose. + + In sudden whirlwind, cloud and flame, + The Spirit of the Highest came! + Before mine eyes a vision passed, + A glory terrible and vast; + With dreadful eyes of living things, + And sounding sweep of angel wings, + With circling light and sapphire throne, + And flame-like form of One thereon, + And voice of that dread Likeness sent + Down from the crystal firmament! + + The burden of a prophet's power + Fell on me in that fearful hour; + From off unutterable woes + The curtain of the future rose; + I saw far down the coming time + The fiery chastisement of crime; + With noise of mingling hosts, and jar + Of falling towers and shouts of war, + I saw the nations rise and fall, + Like fire-gleams on my tent's white wall. + + In dream and trance, I--saw the slain + Of Egypt heaped like harvest grain. + I saw the walls of sea-born Tyre + Swept over by the spoiler's fire; + And heard the low, expiring moan + Of Edom on his rocky throne; + And, woe is me! the wild lament + From Zion's desolation sent; + And felt within my heart each blow + Which laid her holy places low. + + In bonds and sorrow, day by day, + Before the pictured tile I lay; + And there, as in a mirror, saw + The coming of Assyria's war; + Her swarthy lines of spearmen pass + Like locusts through Bethhoron's grass; + I saw them draw their stormy hem + Of battle round Jerusalem; + And, listening, heard the Hebrew wail! + + Blend with the victor-trump of Baal! + Who trembled at my warning word? + Who owned the prophet of the Lord? + How mocked the rude, how scoffed the vile, + How stung the Levites' scornful smile, + As o'er my spirit, dark and slow, + The shadow crept of Israel's woe + As if the angel's mournful roll + Had left its record on my soul, + And traced in lines of darkness there + The picture of its great despair! + + Yet ever at the hour I feel + My lips in prophecy unseal. + Prince, priest, and Levite gather near, + And Salem's daughters haste to hear, + On Chebar's waste and alien shore, + The harp of Judah swept once more. + They listen, as in Babel's throng + The Chaldeans to the dancer's song, + Or wild sabbeka's nightly play,-- + As careless and as vain as they. + + . . . . . + + And thus, O Prophet-bard of old, + Hast thou thy tale of sorrow told + The same which earth's unwelcome seers + Have felt in all succeeding years. + Sport of the changeful multitude, + Nor calmly heard nor understood, + Their song has seemed a trick of art, + Their warnings but, the actor's part. + With bonds, and scorn, and evil will, + The world requites its prophets still. + + So was it when the Holy One + The garments of the flesh put on + Men followed where the Highest led + For common gifts of daily bread, + And gross of ear, of vision dim, + Owned not the Godlike power of Him. + Vain as a dreamer's words to them + His wail above Jerusalem, + And meaningless the watch He kept + Through which His weak disciples slept. + + Yet shrink not thou, whoe'er thou art, + For God's great purpose set apart, + Before whose far-discerning eyes, + The Future as the Present lies! + Beyond a narrow-bounded age + Stretches thy prophet-heritage, + Through Heaven's vast spaces angel-trod, + And through the eternal years of God + Thy audience, worlds!--all things to be + The witness of the Truth in thee! + + 1844. + + + + +WHAT THE VOICE SAID + + MADDENED by Earth's wrong and evil, + "Lord!" I cried in sudden ire, + "From Thy right hand, clothed with thunder, + Shake the bolted fire! + + "Love is lost, and Faith is dying; + With the brute the man is sold; + And the dropping blood of labor + Hardens into gold. + + "Here the dying wail of Famine, + There the battle's groan of pain; + And, in silence, smooth-faced Mammon + Reaping men like grain. + + "'Where is God, that we should fear Him?' + Thus the earth-born Titans say + 'God! if Thou art living, hear us!' + Thus the weak ones pray." + + "Thou, the patient Heaven upbraiding," + Spake a solemn Voice within; + "Weary of our Lord's forbearance, + Art thou free from sin? + + "Fearless brow to Him uplifting, + Canst thou for His thunders call, + Knowing that to guilt's attraction + Evermore they fall? + + "Know'st thou not all germs of evil + In thy heart await their time? + Not thyself, but God's restraining, + Stays their growth of crime. + + "Couldst thou boast, O child of weakness! + O'er the sons of wrong and strife, + Were their strong temptations planted + In thy path of life? + + "Thou hast seen two streamlets gushing + From one fountain, clear and free, + But by widely varying channels + Searching for the sea. + + "Glideth one through greenest valleys, + Kissing them with lips still sweet; + One, mad roaring down the mountains, + Stagnates at their feet. + + "Is it choice whereby the Parsee + Kneels before his mother's fire? + In his black tent did the Tartar + Choose his wandering sire? + + "He alone, whose hand is bounding + Human power and human will, + Looking through each soul's surrounding, + Knows its good or ill. + + "For thyself, while wrong and sorrow + Make to thee their strong appeal, + Coward wert thou not to utter + What the heart must feel. + + "Earnest words must needs be spoken + When the warm heart bleeds or burns + With its scorn of wrong, or pity + For the wronged, by turns. + + "But, by all thy nature's weakness, + Hidden faults and follies known, + Be thou, in rebuking evil, + Conscious of thine own. + + "Not the less shall stern-eyed Duty + To thy lips her trumpet set, + But with harsher blasts shall mingle + Wailings of regret." + + Cease not, Voice of holy speaking, + Teacher sent of God, be near, + Whispering through the day's cool silence, + Let my spirit hear! + + So, when thoughts of evil-doers + Waken scorn, or hatred move, + Shall a mournful fellow-feeling + Temper all with love. + + 1847. + + + + +THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE. + +A FREE PARAPHRASE OF THE GERMAN. + + To weary hearts, to mourning homes, + God's meekest Angel gently comes + No power has he to banish pain, + Or give us back our lost again; + And yet in tenderest love, our dear + And Heavenly Father sends him here. + + There's quiet in that Angel's glance, + There 's rest in his still countenance! + He mocks no grief with idle cheer, + Nor wounds with words the mourner's ear; + But ills and woes he may not cure + He kindly trains us to endure. + + Angel of Patience! sent to calm + Our feverish brows with cooling palm; + To lay the storms of hope and fear, + And reconcile life's smile and tear; + The throbs of wounded pride to still, + And make our own our Father's will. + + O thou who mournest on thy way, + With longings for the close of day; + He walks with thee, that Angel kind, + And gently whispers, "Be resigned + Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell + The dear Lord ordereth all things well!" + + 1847. + + + + +THE WIFE OF MANOAH TO HER HUSBAND. + + Against the sunset's glowing wall + The city towers rise black and tall, + Where Zorah, on its rocky height, + Stands like an armed man in the light. + + Down Eshtaol's vales of ripened grain + Falls like a cloud the night amain, + And up the hillsides climbing slow + The barley reapers homeward go. + + Look, dearest! how our fair child's head + The sunset light hath hallowed, + Where at this olive's foot he lies, + Uplooking to the tranquil skies. + + Oh, while beneath the fervent heat + Thy sickle swept the bearded wheat, + I've watched, with mingled joy and dread, + Our child upon his grassy bed. + + Joy, which the mother feels alone + Whose morning hope like mine had flown, + When to her bosom, over-blessed, + A dearer life than hers is pressed. + + Dread, for the future dark and still, + Which shapes our dear one to its will; + Forever in his large calm eyes, + I read a tale of sacrifice. + + The same foreboding awe I felt + When at the altar's side we knelt, + And he, who as a pilgrim came, + Rose, winged and glorious, through the flame. + + I slept not, though the wild bees made + A dreamlike murmuring in the shade, + And on me the warm-fingered hours + Pressed with the drowsy smell of flowers. + + Before me, in a vision, rose + The hosts of Israel's scornful foes,-- + Rank over rank, helm, shield, and spear, + Glittered in noon's hot atmosphere. + + I heard their boast, and bitter word, + Their mockery of the Hebrew's Lord, + I saw their hands His ark assail, + Their feet profane His holy veil. + + No angel down the blue space spoke, + No thunder from the still sky broke; + But in their midst, in power and awe, + Like God's waked wrath, our child I saw! + + A child no more!--harsh-browed and strong, + He towered a giant in the throng, + And down his shoulders, broad and bare, + Swept the black terror of his hair. + + He raised his arm--he smote amain; + As round the reaper falls the grain, + So the dark host around him fell, + So sank the foes of Israel! + + Again I looked. In sunlight shone + The towers and domes of Askelon; + Priest, warrior, slave, a mighty crowd + Within her idol temple bowed. + + Yet one knelt not; stark, gaunt, and blind, + His arms the massive pillars twined,-- + An eyeless captive, strong with hate, + He stood there like an evil Fate. + + The red shrines smoked,--the trumpets pealed + He stooped,--the giant columns reeled; + Reeled tower and fane, sank arch and wall, + And the thick dust-cloud closed o'er all! + + Above the shriek, the crash, the groan + Of the fallen pride of Askelon, + I heard, sheer down the echoing sky, + A voice as of an angel cry,-- + + The voice of him, who at our side + Sat through the golden eventide; + Of him who, on thy altar's blaze, + Rose fire-winged, with his song of praise. + + "Rejoice o'er Israel's broken chain, + Gray mother of the mighty slain! + Rejoice!" it cried, "he vanquisheth! + The strong in life is strong in death! + + "To him shall Zorah's daughters raise + Through coming years their hymns of praise, + And gray old men at evening tell + Of all he wrought for Israel. + + "And they who sing and they who hear + Alike shall hold thy memory dear, + And pour their blessings on thy head, + O mother of the mighty dead!" + + It ceased; and though a sound I heard + As if great wings the still air stirred, + I only saw the barley sheaves + And hills half hid by olive leaves. + + I bowed my face, in awe and fear, + On the dear child who slumbered near; + "With me, as with my only son, + O God," I said, "Thy will be done!" + + 1847. + + + + +MY SOUL AND I + + Stand still, my soul, in the silent dark + I would question thee, + Alone in the shadow drear and stark + With God and me! + + What, my soul, was thy errand here? + Was it mirth or ease, + Or heaping up dust from year to year? + "Nay, none of these!" + + Speak, soul, aright in His holy sight + Whose eye looks still + And steadily on thee through the night + "To do His will!" + + What hast thou done, O soul of mine, + That thou tremblest so? + Hast thou wrought His task, and kept the line + He bade thee go? + + Aha! thou tremblest!--well I see + Thou 'rt craven grown. + Is it so hard with God and me + To stand alone? + + Summon thy sunshine bravery back, + O wretched sprite! + Let me hear thy voice through this deep and black + Abysmal night. + + What hast thou wrought for Right and Truth, + For God and Man, + From the golden hours of bright-eyed youth + To life's mid span? + + What, silent all! art sad of cheer? + Art fearful now? + When God seemed far and men were near, + How brave wert thou! + + Ah, soul of mine, thy tones I hear, + But weak and low, + Like far sad murmurs on my ear + They come and go. + + I have wrestled stoutly with the Wrong, + And borne the Right + From beneath the footfall of the throng + To life and light. + + "Wherever Freedom shivered a chain, + God speed, quoth I; + To Error amidst her shouting train + I gave the lie." + + Ah, soul of mine! ah, soul of mine! + Thy deeds are well: + Were they wrought for Truth's sake or for thine? + My soul, pray tell. + + "Of all the work my hand hath wrought + Beneath the sky, + Save a place in kindly human thought, + No gain have I." + + Go to, go to! for thy very self + Thy deeds were done + Thou for fame, the miser for pelf, + Your end is one! + + And where art thou going, soul of mine? + Canst see the end? + And whither this troubled life of thine + Evermore doth tend? + + What daunts thee now? what shakes thee so? + My sad soul say. + "I see a cloud like a curtain low + Hang o'er my way. + + "Whither I go I cannot tell + That cloud hangs black, + High as the heaven and deep as hell + Across my track. + + "I see its shadow coldly enwrap + The souls before. + Sadly they enter it, step by step, + To return no more. + + "They shrink, they shudder, dear God! they kneel + To Thee in prayer. + They shut their eyes on the cloud, but feel + That it still is there. + + "In vain they turn from the dread Before + To the Known and Gone; + For while gazing behind them evermore + Their feet glide on. + + "Yet, at times, I see upon sweet pale faces + A light begin + To tremble, as if from holy places + And shrines within. + + "And at times methinks their cold lips move + With hymn and prayer, + As if somewhat of awe, but more of love + And hope were there. + + "I call on the souls who have left the light + To reveal their lot; + I bend mine ear to that wall of night, + And they answer not. + + "But I hear around me sighs of pain + And the cry of fear, + And a sound like the slow sad dropping of rain, + Each drop a tear! + + "Ah, the cloud is dark, and day by day + I am moving thither + I must pass beneath it on my way-- + God pity me!--whither?" + + Ah, soul of mine! so brave and wise + In the life-storm loud, + Fronting so calmly all human eyes + In the sunlit crowd! + + Now standing apart with God and me + Thou art weakness all, + Gazing vainly after the things to be + Through Death's dread wall. + + But never for this, never for this + Was thy being lent; + For the craven's fear is but selfishness, + Like his merriment. + + Folly and Fear are sisters twain + One closing her eyes. + The other peopling the dark inane + With spectral lies. + + Know well, my soul, God's hand controls + Whate'er thou fearest; + Round Him in calmest music rolls + Whate'er thou Nearest. + + What to thee is shadow, to Him is day, + And the end He knoweth, + And not on a blind and aimless way + The spirit goeth. + + Man sees no future,--a phantom show + Is alone before him; + Past Time is dead, and the grasses grow, + And flowers bloom o'er him. + + Nothing before, nothing behind; + The steps of Faith + Fall on the seeming void, and find + The rock beneath. + + The Present, the Present is all thou hast + For thy sure possessing; + Like the patriarch's angel hold it fast + Till it gives its blessing. + + Why fear the night? why shrink from Death; + That phantom wan? + There is nothing in heaven or earth beneath + Save God and man. + + Peopling the shadows we turn from Him + And from one another; + All is spectral and vague and dim + Save God and our brother! + + Like warp and woof all destinies + Are woven fast, + Linked in sympathy like the keys + Of an organ vast. + + Pluck one thread, and the web ye mar; + Break but one + Of a thousand keys, and the paining jar + Through all will run. + + O restless spirit! wherefore strain + Beyond thy sphere? + Heaven and hell, with their joy and pain, + Are now and here. + + Back to thyself is measured well + All thou hast given; + Thy neighbor's wrong is thy present hell, + His bliss, thy heaven. + + And in life, in death, in dark and light, + All are in God's care + Sound the black abyss, pierce the deep of night, + And He is there! + + All which is real now remaineth, + And fadeth never + The hand which upholds it now sustaineth + The soul forever. + + Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness + His own thy will, + And with strength from Him shall thy utter weakness + Life's task fulfil; + + And that cloud itself, which now before thee + Lies dark in view, + Shall with beams of light from the inner glory + Be stricken through. + + And like meadow mist through autumn's dawn + Uprolling thin, + Its thickest folds when about thee drawn + Let sunlight in. + + Then of what is to be, and of what is done, + Why queriest thou? + The past and the time to be are one, + And both are now! + + 1847. + + + + +WORSHIP. + +"Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this. To visit +the fatherless and widows in, their affliction, and to keep himself +unspotted from the world."--JAMES I. 27. + + + The Pagan's myths through marble lips are spoken, + And ghosts of old Beliefs still flit and moan + Round fane and altar overthrown and broken, + O'er tree-grown barrow and gray ring of stone. + + Blind Faith had martyrs in those old high places, + The Syrian hill grove and the Druid's wood, + With mother's offering, to the Fiend's embraces, + Bone of their bone, and blood of their own blood. + + Red altars, kindling through that night of error, + Smoked with warm blood beneath the cruel eye + Of lawless Power and sanguinary Terror, + Throned on the circle of a pitiless sky; + + Beneath whose baleful shadow, overcasting + All heaven above, and blighting earth below, + The scourge grew red, the lip grew pale with fasting, + And man's oblation was his fear and woe! + + Then through great temples swelled the dismal moaning + Of dirge-like music and sepulchral prayer; + Pale wizard priests, o'er occult symbols droning, + Swung their white censers in the burdened air + + As if the pomp of rituals, and the savor + Of gums and spices could the Unseen One please; + As if His ear could bend, with childish favor, + To the poor flattery of the organ keys! + + Feet red from war-fields trod the church aisles holy, + With trembling reverence: and the oppressor there, + Kneeling before his priest, abased and lowly, + Crushed human hearts beneath his knee of prayer. + + Not such the service the benignant Father + Requireth at His earthly children's hands + Not the poor offering of vain rites, but rather + The simple duty man from man demands. + + For Earth He asks it: the full joy of heaven + Knoweth no change of waning or increase; + The great heart of the Infinite beats even, + Untroubled flows the river of His peace. + + He asks no taper lights, on high surrounding + The priestly altar and the saintly grave, + No dolorous chant nor organ music sounding, + Nor incense clouding tip the twilight nave. + + For he whom Jesus loved hath truly spoken + The holier worship which he deigns to bless + Restores the lost, and binds the spirit broken, + And feeds the widow and the fatherless! + + Types of our human weakness and our sorrow! + Who lives unhaunted by his loved ones dead? + Who, with vain longing, seeketh not to borrow + From stranger eyes the home lights which have fled? + + O brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother; + Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there; + To worship rightly is to love each other, + Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer. + + Follow with reverent steps the great example + Of Him whose holy work was "doing good;" + So shall the wide earth seem our Father's temple, + Each loving life a psalm of gratitude. + + Then shall all shackles fall; the stormy clangor + Of wild war music o'er the earth shall cease; + Love shall tread out the baleful fire of anger, + And in its ashes plant the tree of peace! + + 1848. + + + + +THE HOLY LAND + +Paraphrased from the lines in Lamartine's _Adieu to Marseilles_, +beginning + + "Je n'ai pas navigue sur l'ocean de sable." + + + I have not felt, o'er seas of sand, + The rocking of the desert bark; + Nor laved at Hebron's fount my hand, + By Hebron's palm-trees cool and dark; + Nor pitched my tent at even-fall, + On dust where Job of old has lain, + Nor dreamed beneath its canvas wall, + The dream of Jacob o'er again. + + One vast world-page remains unread; + How shine the stars in Chaldea's sky, + How sounds the reverent pilgrim's tread, + How beats the heart with God so nigh + How round gray arch and column lone + The spirit of the old time broods, + And sighs in all the winds that moan + Along the sandy solitudes! + + In thy tall cedars, Lebanon, + I have not heard the nations' cries, + Nor seen thy eagles stooping down + Where buried Tyre in ruin lies. + The Christian's prayer I have not said + In Tadmor's temples of decay, + Nor startled, with my dreary tread, + The waste where Memnon's empire lay. + + Nor have I, from thy hallowed tide, + O Jordan! heard the low lament, + Like that sad wail along thy side + Which Israel's mournful prophet sent! + Nor thrilled within that grotto lone + Where, deep in night, the Bard of Kings + Felt hands of fire direct his own, + And sweep for God the conscious strings. + + I have not climbed to Olivet, + Nor laid me where my Saviour lay, + And left His trace of tears as yet + By angel eyes unwept away; + Nor watched, at midnight's solemn time, + The garden where His prayer and groan, + Wrung by His sorrow and our crime, + Rose to One listening ear alone. + + I have not kissed the rock-hewn grot + Where in His mother's arms He lay, + Nor knelt upon the sacred spot + Where last His footsteps pressed the clay; + Nor looked on that sad mountain head, + Nor smote my sinful breast, where wide + His arms to fold the world He spread, + And bowed His head to bless--and died! + + 1848. + + + + +THE REWARD + + Who, looking backward from his manhood's prime, + Sees not the spectre of his misspent time? + And, through the shade + Of funeral cypress planted thick behind, + Hears no reproachful whisper on the wind + From his loved dead? + + Who bears no trace of passion's evil force? + Who shuns thy sting, O terrible Remorse? + Who does not cast + On the thronged pages of his memory's book, + At times, a sad and half-reluctant look, + Regretful of the past? + + Alas! the evil which we fain would shun + We do, and leave the wished-for good undone + Our strength to-day + Is but to-morrow's weakness, prone to fall; + Poor, blind, unprofitable servants all + Are we alway. + + Yet who, thus looking backward o'er his years, + Feels not his eyelids wet with grateful tears, + If he hath been + Permitted, weak and sinful as he was, + To cheer and aid, in some ennobling cause, + His fellow-men? + + If he hath hidden the outcast, or let in + A ray of sunshine to the cell of sin; + If he hath lent + Strength to the weak, and, in an hour of need, + Over the suffering, mindless of his creed + Or home, hath bent; + + He has not lived in vain, and while he gives + The praise to Him, in whom he moves and lives, + With thankful heart; + He gazes backward, and with hope before, + Knowing that from his works he nevermore + Can henceforth part. + + 1848. + + + + +THE WISH OF TO-DAY. + + I ask not now for gold to gild + With mocking shine a weary frame; + The yearning of the mind is stilled, + I ask not now for Fame. + + A rose-cloud, dimly seen above, + Melting in heaven's blue depths away; + Oh, sweet, fond dream of human Love + For thee I may not pray. + + But, bowed in lowliness of mind, + I make my humble wishes known; + I only ask a will resigned, + O Father, to Thine own! + + To-day, beneath Thy chastening eye + I crave alone for peace and rest, + Submissive in Thy hand to lie, + And feel that it is best. + + A marvel seems the Universe, + A miracle our Life and Death; + A mystery which I cannot pierce, + Around, above, beneath. + + In vain I task my aching brain, + In vain the sage's thought I scan, + I only feel how weak and vain, + How poor and blind, is man. + + And now my spirit sighs for home, + And longs for light whereby to see, + And, like a weary child, would come, + O Father, unto Thee! + + Though oft, like letters traced on sand, + My weak resolves have passed away, + In mercy lend Thy helping hand + Unto my prayer to-day! + + 1848. + + + + +ALL'S WELL + + The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake + Our thirsty souls with rain; + The blow most dreaded falls to break + From off our limbs a chain; + And wrongs of man to man but make + The love of God more plain. + As through the shadowy lens of even + The eye looks farthest into heaven + On gleams of star and depths of blue + The glaring sunshine never knew! + + 1850. + + + + +INVOCATION + + Through Thy clear spaces, Lord, of old, + Formless and void the dead earth rolled; + Deaf to Thy heaven's sweet music, blind + To the great lights which o'er it shined; + No sound, no ray, no warmth, no breath,-- + A dumb despair, a wandering death. + + To that dark, weltering horror came + Thy spirit, like a subtle flame,-- + A breath of life electrical, + Awakening and transforming all, + Till beat and thrilled in every part + The pulses of a living heart. + + Then knew their bounds the land and sea; + Then smiled the bloom of mead and tree; + From flower to moth, from beast to man, + The quick creative impulse ran; + And earth, with life from thee renewed, + Was in thy holy eyesight good. + + As lost and void, as dark and cold + And formless as that earth of old; + A wandering waste of storm and night, + Midst spheres of song and realms of light; + A blot upon thy holy sky, + Untouched, unwarned of thee, am I. + + O Thou who movest on the deep + Of spirits, wake my own from sleep + Its darkness melt, its coldness warm, + The lost restore, the ill transform, + That flower and fruit henceforth may be + Its grateful offering, worthy Thee. + + 1851. + + + + +QUESTIONS OF LIFE + +And the angel that was sent unto me, whose name was Uriel, gave me an +answer and said, "Thy heart hath gone too far in this world, and +thinkest thou to comprehend the way of the Most High?" Then said I, +"Yea, my Lord." Then said he unto me, "Go thy way, weigh me the weight +of the fire or measure me the blast of the wind, or call me again the +day that is past."--2 ESDRAS, chap. iv. + + + A bending staff I would not break, + A feeble faith I would not shake, + Nor even rashly pluck away + The error which some truth may stay, + Whose loss might leave the soul without + A shield against the shafts of doubt. + + And yet, at times, when over all + A darker mystery seems to fall, + (May God forgive the child of dust, + Who seeks to know, where Faith should trust!) + I raise the questions, old and dark, + Of Uzdom's tempted patriarch, + And, speech-confounded, build again + The baffled tower of Shinar's plain. + + I am: how little more I know! + Whence came I? Whither do I go? + A centred self, which feels and is; + A cry between the silences; + A shadow-birth of clouds at strife + With sunshine on the hills of life; + A shaft from Nature's quiver cast + Into the Future from the Past; + Between the cradle and the shroud, + A meteor's flight from cloud to cloud. + + Thorough the vastness, arching all, + I see the great stars rise and fall, + The rounding seasons come and go, + The tided oceans ebb and flow; + The tokens of a central force, + Whose circles, in their widening course, + O'erlap and move the universe; + The workings of the law whence springs + The rhythmic harmony of things, + Which shapes in earth the darkling spar, + And orbs in heaven the morning star. + Of all I see, in earth and sky,-- + Star, flower, beast, bird,--what part have I? + This conscious life,--is it the same + Which thrills the universal frame, + Whereby the caverned crystal shoots, + And mounts the sap from forest roots, + Whereby the exiled wood-bird tells + When Spring makes green her native dells? + How feels the stone the pang of birth, + Which brings its sparkling prism forth? + The forest-tree the throb which gives + The life-blood to its new-born leaves? + Do bird and blossom feel, like me, + Life's many-folded mystery,-- + The wonder which it is to be? + Or stand I severed and distinct, + From Nature's "chain of life" unlinked? + Allied to all, yet not the less + Prisoned in separate consciousness, + Alone o'erburdened with a sense + Of life, and cause, and consequence? + + In vain to me the Sphinx propounds + The riddle of her sights and sounds; + Back still the vaulted mystery gives + The echoed question it receives. + What sings the brook? What oracle + Is in the pine-tree's organ swell? + What may the wind's low burden be? + The meaning of the moaning sea? + The hieroglyphics of the stars? + Or clouded sunset's crimson bars? + I vainly ask, for mocks my skill + The trick of Nature's cipher still. + + I turn from Nature unto men, + I ask the stylus and the pen; + What sang the bards of old? What meant + The prophets of the Orient? + The rolls of buried Egypt, hid + In painted tomb and pyramid? + What mean Idumea's arrowy lines, + Or dusk Elora's monstrous signs? + How speaks the primal thought of man + From the grim carvings of Copan? + + Where rests the secret? Where the keys + Of the old death-bolted mysteries? + Alas! the dead retain their trust; + Dust hath no answer from the dust. + + The great enigma still unguessed, + Unanswered the eternal quest; + I gather up the scattered rays + Of wisdom in the early days, + Faint gleams and broken, like the light + Of meteors in a northern night, + Betraying to the darkling earth + The unseen sun which gave them birth; + I listen to the sibyl's chant, + The voice of priest and hierophant; + I know what Indian Kreeshna saith, + And what of life and what of death + The demon taught to Socrates; + And what, beneath his garden-trees + Slow pacing, with a dream-like tread,-- + The solemn-thoughted Plato said; + Nor lack I tokens, great or small, + Of God's clear light in each and all, + While holding with more dear regard + The scroll of Hebrew seer and bard, + The starry pages promise-lit + With Christ's Evangel over-writ, + Thy miracle of life and death, + O Holy One of Nazareth! + + On Aztec ruins, gray and lone, + The circling serpent coils in stone,-- + Type of the endless and unknown; + Whereof we seek the clue to find, + With groping fingers of the blind! + Forever sought, and never found, + We trace that serpent-symbol round + Our resting-place, our starting bound + Oh, thriftlessness of dream and guess! + Oh, wisdom which is foolishness! + Why idly seek from outward things + The answer inward silence brings? + Why stretch beyond our proper sphere + And age, for that which lies so near? + Why climb the far-off hills with pain, + A nearer view of heaven to gain? + In lowliest depths of bosky dells + The hermit Contemplation dwells. + A fountain's pine-hung slope his seat, + And lotus-twined his silent feet, + Whence, piercing heaven, with screened sight, + He sees at noon the stars, whose light + Shall glorify the coining night. + + Here let me pause, my quest forego; + Enough for me to feel and know + That He in whom the cause and end, + The past and future, meet and blend,-- + Who, girt with his Immensities, + Our vast and star-hung system sees, + Small as the clustered Pleiades,-- + Moves not alone the heavenly quires, + But waves the spring-time's grassy spires, + Guards not archangel feet alone, + But deigns to guide and keep my own; + Speaks not alone the words of fate + Which worlds destroy, and worlds create, + But whispers in my spirit's ear, + In tones of love, or warning fear, + A language none beside may hear. + + To Him, from wanderings long and wild, + I come, an over-wearied child, + In cool and shade His peace to find, + Lice dew-fall settling on my mind. + Assured that all I know is best, + And humbly trusting for the rest, + I turn from Fancy's cloud-built scheme, + Dark creed, and mournful eastern dream + Of power, impersonal and cold, + Controlling all, itself controlled, + Maker and slave of iron laws, + Alike the subject and the cause; + From vain philosophies, that try + The sevenfold gates of mystery, + And, baffled ever, babble still, + Word-prodigal of fate and will; + From Nature, and her mockery, Art; + And book and speech of men apart, + To the still witness in my heart; + With reverence waiting to behold + His Avatar of love untold, + The Eternal Beauty new and old! + + 1862. + + + + +FIRST-DAY THOUGHTS. + + In calm and cool and silence, once again + I find my old accustomed place among + My brethren, where, perchance, no human tongue + Shall utter words; where never hymn is sung, + Nor deep-toned organ blown, nor censer swung, + Nor dim light falling through the pictured pane! + There, syllabled by silence, let me hear + The still small voice which reached the prophet's ear; + Read in my heart a still diviner law + Than Israel's leader on his tables saw! + There let me strive with each besetting sin, + Recall my wandering fancies, and restrain + The sore disquiet of a restless brain; + And, as the path of duty is made plain, + May grace be given that I may walk therein, + Not like the hireling, for his selfish gain, + With backward glances and reluctant tread, + Making a merit of his coward dread, + But, cheerful, in the light around me thrown, + Walking as one to pleasant service led; + Doing God's will as if it were my own, + Yet trusting not in mine, but in His strength alone! + + 1852. + + + + +TRUST. + + The same old baffling questions! O my friend, + I cannot answer them. In vain I send + My soul into the dark, where never burn + The lamps of science, nor the natural light + Of Reason's sun and stars! I cannot learn + Their great and solemn meanings, nor discern + The awful secrets of the eyes which turn + Evermore on us through the day and night + With silent challenge and a dumb demand, + Proffering the riddles of the dread unknown, + Like the calm Sphinxes, with their eyes of stone, + Questioning the centuries from their veils of sand! + I have no answer for myself or thee, + Save that I learned beside my mother's knee; + "All is of God that is, and is to be; + And God is good." Let this suffice us still, + Resting in childlike trust upon His will + Who moves to His great ends unthwarted by the ill. + + 1853. + + + + +TRINITAS. + + At morn I prayed, "I fain would see + How Three are One, and One is Three; + Read the dark riddle unto me." + + I wandered forth, the sun and air + I saw bestowed with equal care + On good and evil, foul and fair. + + No partial favor dropped the rain; + Alike the righteous and profane + Rejoiced above their heading grain. + + And my heart murmured, "Is it meet + That blindfold Nature thus should treat + With equal hand the tares and wheat?" + + A presence melted through my mood,-- + A warmth, a light, a sense of good, + Like sunshine through a winter wood. + + I saw that presence, mailed complete + In her white innocence, pause to greet + A fallen sister of the street. + + Upon her bosom snowy pure + The lost one clung, as if secure + From inward guilt or outward lure. + + "Beware!" I said; "in this I see + No gain to her, but loss to thee + Who touches pitch defiled must be." + + I passed the haunts of shame and sin, + And a voice whispered, "Who therein + Shall these lost souls to Heaven's peace win? + + "Who there shall hope and health dispense, + And lift the ladder up from thence + Whose rounds are prayers of penitence?" + + I said, "No higher life they know; + These earth-worms love to have it so. + Who stoops to raise them sinks as low." + + That night with painful care I read + What Hippo's saint and Calvin said; + The living seeking to the dead! + + In vain I turned, in weary quest, + Old pages, where (God give them rest!) + The poor creed-mongers dreamed and guessed. + + And still I prayed, "Lord, let me see + How Three are One, and One is Three; + Read the dark riddle unto me!" + + Then something whispered, "Dost thou pray + For what thou hast? This very day + The Holy Three have crossed thy way. + + "Did not the gifts of sun and air + To good and ill alike declare + The all-compassionate Father's care? + + "In the white soul that stooped to raise + The lost one from her evil ways, + Thou saw'st the Christ, whom angels praise! + + "A bodiless Divinity, + The still small Voice that spake to thee + Was the Holy Spirit's mystery! + + "O blind of sight, of faith how small! + Father, and Son, and Holy Call + This day thou hast denied them all! + + "Revealed in love and sacrifice, + The Holiest passed before thine eyes, + One and the same, in threefold guise. + + "The equal Father in rain and sun, + His Christ in the good to evil done, + His Voice in thy soul;--and the Three are One!" + + I shut my grave Aquinas fast; + The monkish gloss of ages past, + The schoolman's creed aside I cast. + + And my heart answered, "Lord, I see + How Three are One, and One is Three; + Thy riddle hath been read to me!" + + 1858. + + + + +THE SISTERS + +A PICTURE BY BARRY + + The shade for me, but over thee + The lingering sunshine still; + As, smiling, to the silent stream + Comes down the singing rill. + + So come to me, my little one,-- + My years with thee I share, + And mingle with a sister's love + A mother's tender care. + + But keep the smile upon thy lip, + The trust upon thy brow; + Since for the dear one God hath called + We have an angel now. + + Our mother from the fields of heaven + Shall still her ear incline; + Nor need we fear her human love + Is less for love divine. + + The songs are sweet they sing beneath + The trees of life so fair, + But sweetest of the songs of heaven + Shall be her children's prayer. + + Then, darling, rest upon my breast, + And teach my heart to lean + With thy sweet trust upon the arm + Which folds us both unseen! + + 1858 + + + + +"THE ROCK" IN EL GHOR. + + Dead Petra in her hill-tomb sleeps, + Her stones of emptiness remain; + Around her sculptured mystery sweeps + The lonely waste of Edom's plain. + + From the doomed dwellers in the cleft + The bow of vengeance turns not back; + Of all her myriads none are left + Along the Wady Mousa's track. + + Clear in the hot Arabian day + Her arches spring, her statues climb; + Unchanged, the graven wonders pay + No tribute to the spoiler, Time! + + Unchanged the awful lithograph + Of power and glory undertrod; + Of nations scattered like the chaff + Blown from the threshing-floor of God. + + Yet shall the thoughtful stranger turn + From Petra's gates with deeper awe, + To mark afar the burial urn + Of Aaron on the cliffs of Hor; + + And where upon its ancient guard + Thy Rock, El Ghor, is standing yet,-- + Looks from its turrets desertward, + And keeps the watch that God has set. + + The same as when in thunders loud + It heard the voice of God to man, + As when it saw in fire and cloud + The angels walk in Israel's van, + + Or when from Ezion-Geber's way + It saw the long procession file, + And heard the Hebrew timbrels play + The music of the lordly Nile; + + Or saw the tabernacle pause, + Cloud-bound, by Kadesh Barnea's wells, + While Moses graved the sacred laws, + And Aaron swung his golden bells. + + Rock of the desert, prophet-sung! + How grew its shadowing pile at length, + A symbol, in the Hebrew tongue, + Of God's eternal love and strength. + + On lip of bard and scroll of seer, + From age to age went down the name, + Until the Shiloh's promised year, + And Christ, the Rock of Ages, came! + + The path of life we walk to-day + Is strange as that the Hebrews trod; + We need the shadowing rock, as they,-- + We need, like them, the guides of God. + + God send His angels, Cloud and Fire, + To lead us o'er the desert sand! + God give our hearts their long desire, + His shadow in a weary land! + + 1859. + + + + +THE OVER-HEART. + +"For of Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things, to whom be +glory forever! "--PAUL. + + + Above, below, in sky and sod, + In leaf and spar, in star and man, + Well might the wise Athenian scan + The geometric signs of God, + The measured order of His plan. + + And India's mystics sang aright + Of the One Life pervading all,-- + One Being's tidal rise and fall + In soul and form, in sound and sight,-- + Eternal outflow and recall. + + God is: and man in guilt and fear + The central fact of Nature owns; + Kneels, trembling, by his altar-stones, + And darkly dreams the ghastly smear + Of blood appeases and atones. + + Guilt shapes the Terror: deep within + The human heart the secret lies + Of all the hideous deities; + And, painted on a ground of sin, + The fabled gods of torment rise! + + And what is He? The ripe grain nods, + The sweet dews fall, the sweet flowers blow; + But darker signs His presence show + The earthquake and the storm are God's, + And good and evil interflow. + + O hearts of love! O souls that turn + Like sunflowers to the pure and best! + To you the truth is manifest: + For they the mind of Christ discern + Who lean like John upon His breast! + + In him of whom the sibyl told, + For whom the prophet's harp was toned, + Whose need the sage and magian owned, + The loving heart of God behold, + The hope for which the ages groaned! + + Fade, pomp of dreadful imagery + Wherewith mankind have deified + Their hate, and selfishness, and pride! + Let the scared dreamer wake to see + The Christ of Nazareth at his side! + + What doth that holy Guide require? + No rite of pain, nor gift of blood, + But man a kindly brotherhood, + Looking, where duty is desire, + To Him, the beautiful and good. + + Gone be the faithlessness of fear, + And let the pitying heaven's sweet rain + Wash out the altar's bloody stain; + The law of Hatred disappear, + The law of Love alone remain. + + How fall the idols false and grim! + And to! their hideous wreck above + The emblems of the Lamb and Dove! + Man turns from God, not God from him; + And guilt, in suffering, whispers Love! + + The world sits at the feet of Christ, + Unknowing, blind, and unconsoled; + It yet shall touch His garment's fold, + And feel the heavenly Alchemist + Transform its very dust to gold. + + The theme befitting angel tongues + Beyond a mortal's scope has grown. + O heart of mine! with reverence own + The fulness which to it belongs, + And trust the unknown for the known. + + 1859. + + + + +THE SHADOW AND THE LIGHT. + +"And I sought, whence is Evil: I set before the eye of my spirit the +whole creation; whatsoever we see therein,--sea, earth, air, stars, +trees, moral creatures,--yea, whatsoever there is we do not see,--angels +and spiritual powers. Where is evil, and whence comes it, since God the +Good hath created all things? Why made He anything at all of evil, and +not rather by His Almightiness cause it not to be? These thoughts I +turned in my miserable heart, overcharged with most gnawing cares." +"And, admonished to return to myself, I entered even into my inmost +soul, Thou being my guide, and beheld even beyond my soul and mind the +Light unchangeable. He who knows the Truth knows what that Light is, and +he that knows it knows Eternity! O--Truth, who art Eternity! Love, who +art Truth! Eternity, who art Love! And I beheld that Thou madest all +things good, and to Thee is nothing whatsoever evil. From the angel to +the worm, from the first motion to the last, Thou settest each in its +place, and everything is good in its kind. Woe is me!--how high art Thou +in the highest, how deep in the deepest! and Thou never departest from +us and we scarcely return to Thee." --AUGUSTINE'S Soliloquies, Book VII. + + + The fourteen centuries fall away + Between us and the Afric saint, + And at his side we urge, to-day, + The immemorial quest and old complaint. + + No outward sign to us is given,-- + From sea or earth comes no reply; + Hushed as the warm Numidian heaven + He vainly questioned bends our frozen sky. + + No victory comes of all our strife,-- + From all we grasp the meaning slips; + The Sphinx sits at the gate of life, + With the old question on her awful lips. + + In paths unknown we hear the feet + Of fear before, and guilt behind; + We pluck the wayside fruit, and eat + Ashes and dust beneath its golden rind. + + From age to age descends unchecked + The sad bequest of sire to son, + The body's taint, the mind's defect; + Through every web of life the dark threads run. + + Oh, why and whither? God knows all; + I only know that He is good, + And that whatever may befall + Or here or there, must be the best that could. + + Between the dreadful cherubim + A Father's face I still discern, + As Moses looked of old on Him, + And saw His glory into goodness turn! + + For He is merciful as just; + And so, by faith correcting sight, + I bow before His will, and trust + Howe'er they seem He doeth all things right. + + And dare to hope that Tie will make + The rugged smooth, the doubtful plain; + His mercy never quite forsake; + His healing visit every realm of pain; + + That suffering is not His revenge + Upon His creatures weak and frail, + Sent on a pathway new and strange + With feet that wander and with eyes that fail; + + That, o'er the crucible of pain, + Watches the tender eye of Love + The slow transmuting of the chain + Whose links are iron below to gold above! + + Ah me! we doubt the shining skies, + Seen through our shadows of offence, + And drown with our poor childish cries + The cradle-hymn of kindly Providence. + + And still we love the evil cause, + And of the just effect complain + We tread upon life's broken laws, + And murmur at our self-inflicted pain; + + We turn us from the light, and find + Our spectral shapes before us thrown, + As they who leave the sun behind + Walk in the shadows of themselves alone. + + And scarce by will or strength of ours + We set our faces to the day; + Weak, wavering, blind, the Eternal Powers + Alone can turn us from ourselves away. + + Our weakness is the strength of sin, + But love must needs be stronger far, + Outreaching all and gathering in + The erring spirit and the wandering star. + + A Voice grows with the growing years; + Earth, hushing down her bitter cry, + Looks upward from her graves, and hears, + "The Resurrection and the Life am I." + + O Love Divine!--whose constant beam + Shines on the eyes that will not see, + And waits to bless us, while we dream + Thou leavest us because we turn from thee! + + All souls that struggle and aspire, + All hearts of prayer by thee are lit; + And, dim or clear, thy tongues of fire + On dusky tribes and twilight centuries sit. + + Nor bounds, nor clime, nor creed thou know'st, + Wide as our need thy favors fall; + The white wings of the Holy Ghost + Stoop, seen or unseen, o'er the heads of all. + + O Beauty, old yet ever new! + Eternal Voice, and Inward Word, + The Logos of the Greek and Jew, + The old sphere-music which the Samian heard! + + Truth, which the sage and prophet saw, + Long sought without, but found within, + The Law of Love beyond all law, + The Life o'erflooding mortal death and sin! + + Shine on us with the light which glowed + Upon the trance-bound shepherd's way. + Who saw the Darkness overflowed + And drowned by tides of everlasting Day. + + Shine, light of God!--make broad thy scope + To all who sin and suffer; more + And better than we dare to hope + With Heaven's compassion make our longings poor! + + 1860. + + + + +THE CRY OF A LOST SOUL. + +Lieutenant Herndon's Report of the Exploration of the Amazon has a +striking description of the peculiar and melancholy notes of a bird +heard by night on the shores of the river. The Indian guides called it +"The Cry of a Lost Soul"! Among the numerous translations of this poem +is one by the Emperor of Brazil. + + + In that black forest, where, when day is done, + With a snake's stillness glides the Amazon + Darkly from sunset to the rising sun, + + A cry, as of the pained heart of the wood, + The long, despairing moan of solitude + And darkness and the absence of all good, + + Startles the traveller, with a sound so drear, + So full of hopeless agony and fear, + His heart stands still and listens like his ear. + + The guide, as if he heard a dead-bell toll, + Starts, drops his oar against the gunwale's thole, + Crosses himself, and whispers, "A lost soul!" + + "No, Senor, not a bird. I know it well,-- + It is the pained soul of some infidel + Or cursed heretic that cries from hell. + + "Poor fool! with hope still mocking his despair, + He wanders, shrieking on the midnight air + For human pity and for Christian prayer. + + "Saints strike him dumb! Our Holy Mother hath + No prayer for him who, sinning unto death, + Burns always in the furnace of God's wrath!" + + Thus to the baptized pagan's cruel lie, + Lending new horror to that mournful cry, + The voyager listens, making no reply. + + Dim burns the boat-lamp: shadows deepen round, + From giant trees with snake-like creepers wound, + And the black water glides without a sound. + + But in the traveller's heart a secret sense + Of nature plastic to benign intents, + And an eternal good in Providence, + + Lifts to the starry calm of heaven his eyes; + And to! rebuking all earth's ominous cries, + The Cross of pardon lights the tropic skies! + + "Father of all!" he urges his strong plea, + "Thou lovest all: Thy erring child may be + Lost to himself, but never lost to Thee! + + "All souls are Thine; the wings of morning bear + None from that Presence which is everywhere, + Nor hell itself can hide, for Thou art there. + + "Through sins of sense, perversities of will, + Through doubt and pain, through guilt and shame and ill, + Thy pitying eye is on Thy creature still. + + "Wilt thou not make, Eternal Source and Goal! + In Thy long years, life's broken circle whole, + And change to praise the cry of a lost soul?" + + 1862. + + + + +ANDREW RYKMAN'S PRAYER + + Andrew Rykman's dead and gone; + You can see his leaning slate + In the graveyard, and thereon + Read his name and date. + + "_Trust is truer than our fears_," + Runs the legend through the moss, + "_Gain is not in added years, + Nor in death is loss_." + + Still the feet that thither trod, + All the friendly eyes are dim; + Only Nature, now, and God + Have a care for him. + + There the dews of quiet fall, + Singing birds and soft winds stray: + Shall the tender Heart of all + Be less kind than they? + + What he was and what he is + They who ask may haply find, + If they read this prayer of his + Which he left behind. + + + . . . . + + Pardon, Lord, the lips that dare + Shape in words a mortal's prayer! + Prayer, that, when my day is done, + And I see its setting sun, + Shorn and beamless, cold and dim, + Sink beneath the horizon's rim,-- + When this ball of rock and clay + Crumbles from my feet away, + And the solid shores of sense + Melt into the vague immense, + Father! I may come to Thee + Even with the beggar's plea, + As the poorest of Thy poor, + With my needs, and nothing more. + + Not as one who seeks his home + With a step assured I come; + Still behind the tread I hear + Of my life-companion, Fear; + Still a shadow deep and vast + From my westering feet is cast, + Wavering, doubtful, undefined, + Never shapen nor outlined + From myself the fear has grown, + And the shadow is my own. + + Yet, O Lord, through all a sense + Of Thy tender providence + Stays my failing heart on Thee, + And confirms the feeble knee; + And, at times, my worn feet press + Spaces of cool quietness, + Lilied whiteness shone upon + Not by light of moon or sun. + Hours there be of inmost calm, + Broken but by grateful psalm, + When I love Thee more than fear Thee, + And Thy blessed Christ seems near me, + With forgiving look, as when + He beheld the Magdalen. + Well I know that all things move + To the spheral rhythm of love,-- + That to Thee, O Lord of all! + Nothing can of chance befall + Child and seraph, mote and star, + Well Thou knowest what we are + Through Thy vast creative plan + Looking, from the worm to man, + There is pity in Thine eyes, + But no hatred nor surprise. + Not in blind caprice of will, + Not in cunning sleight of skill, + Not for show of power, was wrought + Nature's marvel in Thy thought. + Never careless hand and vain + Smites these chords of joy and pain; + No immortal selfishness + Plays the game of curse and bless + Heaven and earth are witnesses + That Thy glory goodness is. + + Not for sport of mind and force + Hast Thou made Thy universe, + But as atmosphere and zone + Of Thy loving heart alone. + Man, who walketh in a show, + Sees before him, to and fro, + Shadow and illusion go; + All things flow and fluctuate, + Now contract and now dilate. + In the welter of this sea, + Nothing stable is but Thee; + In this whirl of swooning trance, + Thou alone art permanence; + All without Thee only seems, + All beside is choice of dreams. + Never yet in darkest mood + Doubted I that Thou wast good, + Nor mistook my will for fate, + Pain of sin for heavenly hate,-- + Never dreamed the gates of pearl + Rise from out the burning marl, + Or that good can only live + Of the bad conservative, + And through counterpoise of hell + Heaven alone be possible. + + For myself alone I doubt; + All is well, I know, without; + I alone the beauty mar, + I alone the music jar. + Yet, with hands by evil stained, + And an ear by discord pained, + I am groping for the keys + Of the heavenly harmonies; + Still within my heart I bear + Love for all things good and fair. + Hands of want or souls in pain + Have not sought my door in vain; + I have kept my fealty good + To the human brotherhood; + Scarcely have I asked in prayer + That which others might not share. + I, who hear with secret shame + Praise that paineth more than blame, + Rich alone in favors lent, + Virtuous by accident, + Doubtful where I fain would rest, + Frailest where I seem the best, + Only strong for lack of test,-- + What am I, that I should press + Special pleas of selfishness, + Coolly mounting into heaven + On my neighbor unforgiven? + Ne'er to me, howe'er disguised, + Comes a saint unrecognized; + Never fails my heart to greet + Noble deed with warmer beat; + Halt and maimed, I own not less + All the grace of holiness; + Nor, through shame or self-distrust, + Less I love the pure and just. + Lord, forgive these words of mine + What have I that is not Thine? + Whatsoe'er I fain would boast + Needs Thy pitying pardon most. + Thou, O Elder Brother! who + In Thy flesh our trial knew, + Thou, who hast been touched by these + Our most sad infirmities, + Thou alone the gulf canst span + In the dual heart of man, + And between the soul and sense + Reconcile all difference, + Change the dream of me and mine + For the truth of Thee and Thine, + And, through chaos, doubt, and strife, + Interfuse Thy calm of life. + Haply, thus by Thee renewed, + In Thy borrowed goodness good, + Some sweet morning yet in God's + Dim, veonian periods, + Joyful I shall wake to see + Those I love who rest in Thee, + And to them in Thee allied + Shall my soul be satisfied. + + Scarcely Hope hath shaped for me + What the future life may be. + Other lips may well be bold; + Like the publican of old, + I can only urge the plea, + "Lord, be merciful to me!" + Nothing of desert I claim, + Unto me belongeth shame. + Not for me the crowns of gold, + Palms, and harpings manifold; + Not for erring eye and feet + Jasper wall and golden street. + What thou wilt, O Father, give I + All is gain that I receive. + + If my voice I may not raise + In the elders' song of praise, + If I may not, sin-defiled, + Claim my birthright as a child, + Suffer it that I to Thee + As an hired servant be; + Let the lowliest task be mine, + Grateful, so the work be Thine; + Let me find the humblest place + In the shadow of Thy grace + Blest to me were any spot + Where temptation whispers not. + If there be some weaker one, + Give me strength to help him on + If a blinder soul there be, + Let me guide him nearer Thee. + Make my mortal dreams come true + With the work I fain would do; + Clothe with life the weak intent, + Let me be the thing I meant; + Let me find in Thy employ + Peace that dearer is than joy; + Out of self to love be led + And to heaven acclimated, + Until all things sweet and good + Seem my natural habitude. + + . . . . + + So we read the prayer of him + Who, with John of Labadie, + Trod, of old, the oozy rim + Of the Zuyder Zee. + + Thus did Andrew Rykman pray. + Are we wiser, better grown, + That we may not, in our day, + Make his prayer our own? + + + + +THE ANSWER. + + Spare me, dread angel of reproof, + And let the sunshine weave to-day + Its gold-threads in the warp and woof + Of life so poor and gray. + + Spare me awhile; the flesh is weak. + These lingering feet, that fain would stray + Among the flowers, shall some day seek + The strait and narrow way. + + Take off thy ever-watchful eye, + The awe of thy rebuking frown; + The dullest slave at times must sigh + To fling his burdens down; + + To drop his galley's straining oar, + And press, in summer warmth and calm, + The lap of some enchanted shore + Of blossom and of balm. + + Grudge not my life its hour of bloom, + My heart its taste of long desire; + This day be mine: be those to come + As duty shall require. + + The deep voice answered to my own, + Smiting my selfish prayers away; + "To-morrow is with God alone, + And man hath but to-day. + + "Say not, thy fond, vain heart within, + The Father's arm shall still be wide, + When from these pleasant ways of sin + Thou turn'st at eventide. + + "'Cast thyself down,' the tempter saith, + 'And angels shall thy feet upbear.' + He bids thee make a lie of faith, + And blasphemy of prayer. + + "Though God be good and free be heaven, + No force divine can love compel; + And, though the song of sins forgiven + May sound through lowest hell, + + "The sweet persuasion of His voice + Respects thy sanctity of will. + He giveth day: thou hast thy choice + To walk in darkness still; + + "As one who, turning from the light, + Watches his own gray shadow fall, + Doubting, upon his path of night, + If there be day at all! + + "No word of doom may shut thee out, + No wind of wrath may downward whirl, + No swords of fire keep watch about + The open gates of pearl; + + "A tenderer light than moon or sun, + Than song of earth a sweeter hymn, + May shine and sound forever on, + And thou be deaf and dim. + + "Forever round the Mercy-seat + The guiding lights of Love shall burn; + But what if, habit-bound, thy feet + Shall lack the will to turn? + + "What if thine eye refuse to see, + Thine ear of Heaven's free welcome fail, + And thou a willing captive be, + Thyself thy own dark jail? + + "Oh, doom beyond the saddest guess, + As the long years of God unroll, + To make thy dreary selfishness + The prison of a soul! + + "To doubt the love that fain would break + The fetters from thy self-bound limb; + And dream that God can thee forsake + As thou forsakest Him!" + + 1863. + + + + +THE ETERNAL GOODNESS. + + O friends! with whom my feet have trod + The quiet aisles of prayer, + Glad witness to your zeal for God + And love of man I bear. + + I trace your lines of argument; + Your logic linked and strong + I weigh as one who dreads dissent, + And fears a doubt as wrong. + + But still my human hands are weak + To hold your iron creeds + Against the words ye bid me speak + My heart within me pleads. + + Who fathoms the Eternal Thought? + Who talks of scheme and plan? + The Lord is God! He needeth not + The poor device of man. + + I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground + Ye tread with boldness shod; + I dare not fix with mete and bound + The love and power of God. + + Ye praise His justice; even such + His pitying love I deem + Ye seek a king; I fain would touch + The robe that hath no seam. + + Ye see the curse which overbroods + A world of pain and loss; + I hear our Lord's beatitudes + And prayer upon the cross. + + More than your schoolmen teach, within + Myself, alas! I know + Too dark ye cannot paint the sin, + Too small the merit show. + + I bow my forehead to the dust, + I veil mine eyes for shame, + And urge, in trembling self-distrust, + A prayer without a claim. + + I see the wrong that round me lies, + I feel the guilt within; + I hear, with groan and travail-cries, + The world confess its sin. + + Yet, in the maddening maze of things, + And tossed by storm and flood, + To one fixed trust my spirit clings; + I know that God is good! + + Not mine to look where cherubim + And seraphs may not see, + But nothing can be good in Him + Which evil is in me. + + The wrong that pains my soul below + I dare not throne above, + I know not of His hate,--I know + His goodness and His love. + + I dimly guess from blessings known + Of greater out of sight, + And, with the chastened Psalmist, own + His judgments too are right. + + I long for household voices gone, + For vanished smiles I long, + But God hath led my dear ones on, + And He can do no wrong. + + I know not what the future hath + Of marvel or surprise, + Assured alone that life and death + His mercy underlies. + + And if my heart and flesh are weak + To bear an untried pain, + The bruised reed He will not break, + But strengthen and sustain. + + No offering of my own I have, + Nor works my faith to prove; + I can but give the gifts He gave, + And plead His love for love. + + And so beside the Silent Sea + I wait the muffled oar; + No harm from Him can come to me + On ocean or on shore. + + I know not where His islands lift + Their fronded palms in air; + I only know I cannot drift + Beyond His love and care. + + O brothers! if my faith is vain, + If hopes like these betray, + Pray for me that my feet may gain + The sure and safer way. + + And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen + Thy creatures as they be, + Forgive me if too close I lean + My human heart on Thee! + + 1865. + + + + +THE COMMON QUESTION. + + Behind us at our evening meal + The gray bird ate his fill, + Swung downward by a single claw, + And wiped his hooked bill. + + He shook his wings and crimson tail, + And set his head aslant, + And, in his sharp, impatient way, + Asked, "What does Charlie want?" + + "Fie, silly bird!" I answered, "tuck + Your head beneath your wing, + And go to sleep;"--but o'er and o'er + He asked the self-same thing. + + Then, smiling, to myself I said + How like are men and birds! + We all are saying what he says, + In action or in words. + + The boy with whip and top and drum, + The girl with hoop and doll, + And men with lands and houses, ask + The question of Poor Poll. + + However full, with something more + We fain the bag would cram; + We sigh above our crowded nets + For fish that never swam. + + No bounty of indulgent Heaven + The vague desire can stay; + Self-love is still a Tartar mill + For grinding prayers alway. + + The dear God hears and pities all; + He knoweth all our wants; + And what we blindly ask of Him + His love withholds or grants. + + And so I sometimes think our prayers + Might well be merged in one; + And nest and perch and hearth and church + Repeat, "Thy will be done." + + + + +OUR MASTER. + + Immortal Love, forever full, + Forever flowing free, + Forever shared, forever whole, + A never-ebbing sea! + + Our outward lips confess the name + All other names above; + Love only knoweth whence it came + And comprehendeth love. + + Blow, winds of God, awake and blow + The mists of earth away! + Shine out, O Light Divine, and show + How wide and far we stray! + + Hush every lip, close every book, + The strife of tongues forbear; + Why forward reach, or backward look, + For love that clasps like air? + + We may not climb the heavenly steeps + To bring the Lord Christ down + In vain we search the lowest deeps, + For Him no depths can drown. + + Nor holy bread, nor blood of grape, + The lineaments restore + Of Him we know in outward shape + And in the flesh no more. + + He cometh not a king to reign; + The world's long hope is dim; + The weary centuries watch in vain + The clouds of heaven for Him. + + Death comes, life goes; the asking eye + And ear are answerless; + The grave is dumb, the hollow sky + Is sad with silentness. + + The letter fails, and systems fall, + And every symbol wanes; + The Spirit over-brooding all + Eternal Love remains. + + And not for signs in heaven above + Or earth below they look, + Who know with John His smile of love, + With Peter His rebuke. + + In joy of inward peace, or sense + Of sorrow over sin, + He is His own best evidence, + His witness is within. + + No fable old, nor mythic lore, + Nor dream of bards and seers, + No dead fact stranded on the shore + Of the oblivious years;-- + + But warm, sweet, tender, even yet + A present help is He; + And faith has still its Olivet, + And love its Galilee. + + The healing of His seamless dress + Is by our beds of pain; + We touch Him in life's throng and press, + And we are whole again. + + Through Him the first fond prayers are said + Our lips of childhood frame, + The last low whispers of our dead + Are burdened with His name. + + Our Lord and Master of us all! + Whate'er our name or sign, + We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call, + We test our lives by Thine. + + Thou judgest us; Thy purity + Doth all our lusts condemn; + The love that draws us nearer Thee + Is hot with wrath to them. + + Our thoughts lie open to Thy sight; + And, naked to Thy glance, + Our secret sins are in the light + Of Thy pure countenance. + + Thy healing pains, a keen distress + Thy tender light shines in; + Thy sweetness is the bitterness, + Thy grace the pang of sin. + + Yet, weak and blinded though we be, + Thou dost our service own; + We bring our varying gifts to Thee, + And Thou rejectest none. + + To Thee our full humanity, + Its joys and pains, belong; + The wrong of man to man on Thee + Inflicts a deeper wrong. + + Who hates, hates Thee, who loves becomes + Therein to Thee allied; + All sweet accords of hearts and homes + In Thee are multiplied. + + Deep strike Thy roots, O heavenly Vine, + Within our earthly sod, + Most human and yet most divine, + The flower of man and God! + + O Love! O Life! Our faith and sight + Thy presence maketh one + As through transfigured clouds of white + We trace the noon-day sun. + + So, to our mortal eyes subdued, + Flesh-veiled, but not concealed, + We know in Thee the fatherhood + And heart of God revealed. + + We faintly hear, we dimly see, + In differing phrase we pray; + But, dim or clear, we own in Thee + The Light, the Truth, the Way! + + The homage that we render Thee + Is still our Father's own; + No jealous claim or rivalry + Divides the Cross and Throne. + + To do Thy will is more than praise, + As words are less than deeds, + And simple trust can find Thy ways + We miss with chart of creeds. + + No pride of self Thy service hath, + No place for me and mine; + Our human strength is weakness, death + Our life, apart from Thine. + + Apart from Thee all gain is loss, + All labor vainly done; + The solemn shadow of Thy Cross + Is better than the sun. + + Alone, O Love ineffable! + Thy saving name is given; + To turn aside from Thee is hell, + To walk with Thee is heaven! + + How vain, secure in all Thou art, + Our noisy championship + The sighing of the contrite heart + Is more than flattering lip. + + Not Thine the bigot's partial plea, + Nor Thine the zealot's ban; + Thou well canst spare a love of Thee + Which ends in hate of man. + + Our Friend, our Brother, and our Lord, + What may Thy service be?-- + Nor name, nor form, nor ritual word, + But simply following Thee. + + We bring no ghastly holocaust, + We pile no graven stone; + He serves thee best who loveth most + His brothers and Thy own. + + Thy litanies, sweet offices + Of love and gratitude; + Thy sacramental liturgies, + The joy of doing good. + + In vain shall waves of incense drift + The vaulted nave around, + In vain the minster turret lift + Its brazen weights of sound. + + The heart must ring Thy Christmas bells, + Thy inward altars raise; + Its faith and hope Thy canticles, + And its obedience praise! + + 1866. + + + + +THE MEETING. + +The two speakers in the meeting referred to in this poem were Avis +Keene, whose very presence was a benediction, a woman lovely in spirit +and person, whose words seemed a message of love and tender concern to +her hearers; and Sibyl Jones, whose inspired eloquence and rare +spirituality impressed all who knew her. In obedience to her apprehended +duty she made visits of Christian love to various parts of Europe, and +to the West Coast of Africa and Palestine. + + + The elder folks shook hands at last, + Down seat by seat the signal passed. + To simple ways like ours unused, + Half solemnized and half amused, + With long-drawn breath and shrug, my guest + His sense of glad relief expressed. + Outside, the hills lay warm in sun; + The cattle in the meadow-run + Stood half-leg deep; a single bird + The green repose above us stirred. + "What part or lot have you," he said, + "In these dull rites of drowsy-head? + Is silence worship? Seek it where + It soothes with dreams the summer air, + Not in this close and rude-benched hall, + But where soft lights and shadows fall, + And all the slow, sleep-walking hours + Glide soundless over grass and flowers! + From time and place and form apart, + Its holy ground the human heart, + Nor ritual-bound nor templeward + Walks the free spirit of the Lord! + Our common Master did not pen + His followers up from other men; + His service liberty indeed, + He built no church, He framed no creed; + But while the saintly Pharisee + Made broader his phylactery, + As from the synagogue was seen + The dusty-sandalled Nazarene + Through ripening cornfields lead the way + Upon the awful Sabbath day, + His sermons were the healthful talk + That shorter made the mountain-walk, + His wayside texts were flowers and birds, + Where mingled with His gracious words + The rustle of the tamarisk-tree + And ripple-wash of Galilee." + + "Thy words are well, O friend," I said; + "Unmeasured and unlimited, + With noiseless slide of stone to stone, + The mystic Church of God has grown. + Invisible and silent stands + The temple never made with hands, + Unheard the voices still and small + Of its unseen confessional. + He needs no special place of prayer + Whose hearing ear is everywhere; + He brings not back the childish days + That ringed the earth with stones of praise, + Roofed Karnak's hall of gods, and laid + The plinths of Phil e's colonnade. + Still less He owns the selfish good + And sickly growth of solitude,-- + The worthless grace that, out of sight, + Flowers in the desert anchorite; + Dissevered from the suffering whole, + Love hath no power to save a soul. + Not out of Self, the origin + And native air and soil of sin, + The living waters spring and flow, + The trees with leaves of healing grow. + + "Dream not, O friend, because I seek + This quiet shelter twice a week, + I better deem its pine-laid floor + Than breezy hill or sea-sung shore; + But nature is not solitude + She crowds us with her thronging wood; + Her many hands reach out to us, + Her many tongues are garrulous; + Perpetual riddles of surprise + She offers to our ears and eyes; + She will not leave our senses still, + But drags them captive at her will + And, making earth too great for heaven, + She hides the Giver in the given. + + "And so, I find it well to come + For deeper rest to this still room, + For here the habit of the soul + Feels less the outer world's control; + The strength of mutual purpose pleads + More earnestly our common needs; + And from the silence multiplied + By these still forms on either side, + The world that time and sense have known + Falls off and leaves us God alone. + + "Yet rarely through the charmed repose + Unmixed the stream of motive flows, + A flavor of its many springs, + The tints of earth and sky it brings; + In the still waters needs must be + Some shade of human sympathy; + And here, in its accustomed place, + I look on memory's dearest face; + The blind by-sitter guesseth not + What shadow haunts that vacant spot; + No eyes save mine alone can see + The love wherewith it welcomes me! + And still, with those alone my kin, + In doubt and weakness, want and sin, + I bow my head, my heart I bare + As when that face was living there, + And strive (too oft, alas! in vain) + The peace of simple trust to gain, + Fold fancy's restless wings, and lay + The idols of my heart away. + + "Welcome the silence all unbroken, + Nor less the words of fitness spoken,-- + Such golden words as hers for whom + Our autumn flowers have just made room; + Whose hopeful utterance through and through + The freshness of the morning blew; + Who loved not less the earth that light + Fell on it from the heavens in sight, + But saw in all fair forms more fair + The Eternal beauty mirrored there. + Whose eighty years but added grace + And saintlier meaning to her face,-- + The look of one who bore away + Glad tidings from the hills of day, + While all our hearts went forth to meet + The coming of her beautiful feet! + Or haply hers, whose pilgrim tread + Is in the paths where Jesus led; + Who dreams her childhood's Sabbath dream + By Jordan's willow-shaded stream, + And, of the hymns of hope and faith, + Sung by the monks of Nazareth, + Hears pious echoes, in the call + To prayer, from Moslem minarets fall, + Repeating where His works were wrought + The lesson that her Master taught, + Of whom an elder Sibyl gave, + The prophecies of Cuma 's cave. + + "I ask no organ's soulless breath + To drone the themes of life and death, + No altar candle-lit by day, + No ornate wordsman's rhetoric-play, + No cool philosophy to teach + Its bland audacities of speech + To double-tasked idolaters + Themselves their gods and worshippers, + No pulpit hammered by the fist + Of loud-asserting dogmatist, + Who borrows for the Hand of love + The smoking thunderbolts of Jove. + I know how well the fathers taught, + What work the later schoolmen wrought; + I reverence old-time faith and men, + But God is near us now as then; + His force of love is still unspent, + His hate of sin as imminent; + And still the measure of our needs + Outgrows the cramping bounds of creeds; + The manna gathered yesterday + Already savors of decay; + Doubts to the world's child-heart unknown + Question us now from star and stone; + Too little or too much we know, + And sight is swift and faith is slow; + The power is lost to self-deceive + With shallow forms of make-believe. + W e walk at high noon, and the bells + Call to a thousand oracles, + But the sound deafens, and the light + Is stronger than our dazzled sight; + The letters of the sacred Book + Glimmer and swim beneath our look; + Still struggles in the Age's breast + With deepening agony of quest + The old entreaty: 'Art thou He, + Or look we for the Christ to be?' + + "God should be most where man is least + So, where is neither church nor priest, + And never rag of form or creed + To clothe the nakedness of need,-- + Where farmer-folk in silence meet,-- + I turn my bell-unsummoned feet;' + I lay the critic's glass aside, + I tread upon my lettered pride, + And, lowest-seated, testify + To the oneness of humanity; + Confess the universal want, + And share whatever Heaven may grant. + He findeth not who seeks his own, + The soul is lost that's saved alone. + Not on one favored forehead fell + Of old the fire-tongued miracle, + But flamed o'er all the thronging host + The baptism of the Holy Ghost; + Heart answers heart: in one desire + The blending lines of prayer aspire; + 'Where, in my name, meet two or three,' + Our Lord hath said, 'I there will be!' + + "So sometimes comes to soul and sense + The feeling which is evidence + That very near about us lies + The realm of spiritual mysteries. + The sphere of the supernal powers + Impinges on this world of ours. + The low and dark horizon lifts, + To light the scenic terror shifts; + The breath of a diviner air + Blows down the answer of a prayer + That all our sorrow, pain, and doubt + A great compassion clasps about, + And law and goodness, love and force, + Are wedded fast beyond divorce. + Then duty leaves to love its task, + The beggar Self forgets to ask; + With smile of trust and folded hands, + The passive soul in waiting stands + To feel, as flowers the sun and dew, + The One true Life its own renew. + + "So, to the calmly gathered thought + The innermost of truth is taught, + The mystery dimly understood, + That love of God is love of good, + And, chiefly, its divinest trace + In Him of Nazareth's holy face; + That to be saved is only this,-- + Salvation from our selfishness, + From more than elemental fire, + The soul's unsanetified desire, + From sin itself, and not the pain + That warns us of its chafing chain; + That worship's deeper meaning lies + In mercy, and not sacrifice, + Not proud humilities of sense + And posturing of penitence, + But love's unforced obedience; + That Book and Church and Day are given + For man, not God,--for earth, not heaven,-- + The blessed means to holiest ends, + Not masters, but benignant friends; + That the dear Christ dwells not afar, + The king of some remoter star, + Listening, at times, with flattered ear + To homage wrung from selfish fear, + But here, amidst the poor and blind, + The bound and suffering of our kind, + In works we do, in prayers we pray, + Life of our life, He lives to-day." + + 1868. + + + + +THE CLEAR VISION. + + I did but dream. I never knew + What charms our sternest season wore. + Was never yet the sky so blue, + Was never earth so white before. + Till now I never saw the glow + Of sunset on yon hills of snow, + And never learned the bough's designs + Of beauty in its leafless lines. + + Did ever such a morning break + As that my eastern windows see? + Did ever such a moonlight take + Weird photographs of shrub and tree? + Rang ever bells so wild and fleet + The music of the winter street? + Was ever yet a sound by half + So merry as you school-boy's laugh? + + O Earth! with gladness overfraught, + No added charm thy face hath found; + Within my heart the change is wrought, + My footsteps make enchanted ground. + From couch of pain and curtained room + Forth to thy light and air I come, + To find in all that meets my eyes + The freshness of a glad surprise. + + Fair seem these winter days, and soon + Shall blow the warm west-winds of spring, + To set the unbound rills in tune + And hither urge the bluebird's wing. + The vales shall laugh in flowers, the woods + Grow misty green with leafing buds, + And violets and wind-flowers sway + Against the throbbing heart of May. + + Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own + The wiser love severely kind; + Since, richer for its chastening grown, + I see, whereas I once was blind. + The world, O Father! hath not wronged + With loss the life by Thee prolonged; + But still, with every added year, + More beautiful Thy works appear! + + As Thou hast made thy world without, + Make Thou more fair my world within; + Shine through its lingering clouds of doubt; + Rebuke its haunting shapes of sin; + Fill, brief or long, my granted span + Of life with love to thee and man; + Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest, + But let my last days be my best! + + 2d mo., 1868. + + + + +DIVINE COMPASSION. + + Long since, a dream of heaven I had, + And still the vision haunts me oft; + I see the saints in white robes clad, + The martyrs with their palms aloft; + But hearing still, in middle song, + The ceaseless dissonance of wrong; + And shrinking, with hid faces, from the strain + Of sad, beseeching eyes, full of remorse and pain. + + The glad song falters to a wail, + The harping sinks to low lament; + Before the still unlifted veil + I see the crowned foreheads bent, + Making more sweet the heavenly air, + With breathings of unselfish prayer; + And a Voice saith: "O Pity which is pain, + O Love that weeps, fill up my sufferings which remain! + + "Shall souls redeemed by me refuse + To share my sorrow in their turn? + Or, sin-forgiven, my gift abuse + Of peace with selfish unconcern? + Has saintly ease no pitying care? + Has faith no work, and love no prayer? + While sin remains, and souls in darkness dwell, + Can heaven itself be heaven, and look unmoved on hell?" + + Then through the Gates of Pain, I dream, + A wind of heaven blows coolly in; + Fainter the awful discords seem, + The smoke of torment grows more thin, + Tears quench the burning soil, and thence + Spring sweet, pale flowers of penitence + And through the dreary realm of man's despair, + Star-crowned an angel walks, and to! God's hope is there! + + Is it a dream? Is heaven so high + That pity cannot breathe its air? + Its happy eyes forever dry, + Its holy lips without a prayer! + My God! my God! if thither led + By Thy free grace unmerited, + No crown nor palm be mine, but let me keep + A heart that still can feel, and eyes that still can weep. + + 1868. + + + + +THE PRAYER-SEEKER. + + Along the aisle where prayer was made, + A woman, all in black arrayed, + Close-veiled, between the kneeling host, + With gliding motion of a ghost, + Passed to the desk, and laid thereon + A scroll which bore these words alone, + _Pray for me_! + + Back from the place of worshipping + She glided like a guilty thing + The rustle of her draperies, stirred + By hurrying feet, alone was heard; + While, full of awe, the preacher read, + As out into the dark she sped: + "_Pray for me_!" + + Back to the night from whence she came, + To unimagined grief or shame! + Across the threshold of that door + None knew the burden that she bore; + Alone she left the written scroll, + The legend of a troubled soul,-- + _Pray for me_! + + Glide on, poor ghost of woe or sin! + Thou leav'st a common need within; + Each bears, like thee, some nameless weight, + Some misery inarticulate, + Some secret sin, some shrouded dread, + Some household sorrow all unsaid. + _Pray for us_! + + Pass on! The type of all thou art, + Sad witness to the common heart! + With face in veil and seal on lip, + In mute and strange companionship, + Like thee we wander to and fro, + Dumbly imploring as we go + _Pray for us_! + + Ah, who shall pray, since he who pleads + Our want perchance hath greater needs? + Yet they who make their loss the gain + Of others shall not ask in vain, + And Heaven bends low to hear the prayer + Of love from lips of self-despair + _Pray for us_! + + In vain remorse and fear and hate + Beat with bruised bands against a fate + Whose walls of iron only move + And open to the touch of love. + He only feels his burdens fall + Who, taught by suffering, pities all. + _Pray for us_! + + He prayeth best who leaves unguessed + The mystery of another's breast. + Why cheeks grow pale, why eyes o'erflow, + Or heads are white, thou need'st not know. + Enough to note by many a sign + That every heart hath needs like thine. + _Pray for us_! + + 1870 + + + + +THE BREWING OF SOMA. + +"These libations mixed with milk have been prepared for Indra: offer +Soma to the drinker of Soma." --Vashista, translated by MAX MULLER. + + + The fagots blazed, the caldron's smoke + Up through the green wood curled; + "Bring honey from the hollow oak, + Bring milky sap," the brewers spoke, + In the childhood of the world. + + And brewed they well or brewed they ill, + The priests thrust in their rods, + First tasted, and then drank their fill, + And shouted, with one voice and will, + "Behold the drink of gods!" + + They drank, and to! in heart and brain + A new, glad life began; + The gray of hair grew young again, + The sick man laughed away his pain, + The cripple leaped and ran. + + "Drink, mortals, what the gods have sent, + Forget your long annoy." + So sang the priests. From tent to tent + The Soma's sacred madness went, + A storm of drunken joy. + + Then knew each rapt inebriate + A winged and glorious birth, + Soared upward, with strange joy elate, + Beat, with dazed head, Varuna's gate, + And, sobered, sank to earth. + + The land with Soma's praises rang; + On Gihon's banks of shade + Its hymns the dusky maidens sang; + In joy of life or mortal pang + All men to Soma prayed. + + The morning twilight of the race + Sends down these matin psalms; + And still with wondering eyes we trace + The simple prayers to Soma's grace, + That Vedic verse embalms. + + As in that child-world's early year, + Each after age has striven + By music, incense, vigils drear, + And trance, to bring the skies more near, + Or lift men up to heaven! + + Some fever of the blood and brain, + Some self-exalting spell, + The scourger's keen delight of pain, + The Dervish dance, the Orphic strain, + The wild-haired Bacchant's yell,-- + + The desert's hair-grown hermit sunk + The saner brute below; + The naked Santon, hashish-drunk, + The cloister madness of the monk, + The fakir's torture-show! + + And yet the past comes round again, + And new doth old fulfil; + In sensual transports wild as vain + We brew in many a Christian fane + The heathen Soma still! + + Dear Lord and Father of mankind, + Forgive our foolish ways! + Reclothe us in our rightful mind, + In purer lives Thy service find, + In deeper reverence, praise. + + In simple trust like theirs who heard + Beside the Syrian sea + The gracious calling of the Lord, + Let us, like them, without a word, + Rise up and follow Thee. + + O Sabbath rest by Galilee! + O calm of hills above, + Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee + The silence of eternity + Interpreted by love! + + With that deep hush subduing all + Our words and works that drown + The tender whisper of Thy call, + As noiseless let Thy blessing fall + As fell Thy manna down. + + Drop Thy still dews of quietness, + Till all our strivings cease; + Take from our souls the strain and stress, + And let our ordered lives confess + The beauty of Thy peace. + + Breathe through the heats of our desire + Thy coolness and Thy balm; + Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire; + Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire, + O still, small voice of calm! + + 1872. + + + + +A WOMAN. + + Oh, dwarfed and wronged, and stained with ill, + Behold! thou art a woman still! + And, by that sacred name and dear, + I bid thy better self appear. + Still, through thy foul disguise, I see + The rudimental purity, + That, spite of change and loss, makes good + Thy birthright-claim of womanhood; + An inward loathing, deep, intense; + A shame that is half innocence. + Cast off the grave-clothes of thy sin! + Rise from the dust thou liest in, + As Mary rose at Jesus' word, + Redeemed and white before the Lord! + Reclairn thy lost soul! In His name, + Rise up, and break thy bonds of shame. + Art weak? He 's strong. Art fearful? Hear + The world's O'ercomer: "Be of cheer!" + What lip shall judge when He approves? + Who dare to scorn the child He loves? + + + + +THE PRAYER OF AGASSIZ. + +The island of Penikese in Buzzard's Bay was given by Mr. John Anderson +to Agassiz for the uses of a summer school of natural history. A large +barn was cleared and improvised as a lecture-room. Here, on the first +morning of the school, all the company was gathered. "Agassiz had +arranged no programme of exercises," says Mrs. Agassiz, in Louis +Agassiz; his Life and Correspondence, "trusting to the interest of the +occasion to suggest what might best be said or done. But, as he looked +upon his pupils gathered there to study nature with him, by an impulse +as natural as it was unpremeditated, he called upon then to join in +silently asking God's blessing on their work together. The pause was +broken by the first words of an address no less fervent than its +unspoken prelude." This was in the summer of 1873, and Agassiz died the +December following. + + + On the isle of Penikese, + Ringed about by sapphire seas, + Fanned by breezes salt and cool, + Stood the Master with his school. + Over sails that not in vain + Wooed the west-wind's steady strain, + Line of coast that low and far + Stretched its undulating bar, + Wings aslant along the rim + Of the waves they stooped to skim, + Rock and isle and glistening bay, + Fell the beautiful white day. + + Said the Master to the youth + "We have come in search of truth, + Trying with uncertain key + Door by door of mystery; + We are reaching, through His laws, + To the garment-hem of Cause, + Him, the endless, unbegun, + The Unnamable, the One + Light of all our light the Source, + Life of life, and Force of force. + As with fingers of the blind, + We are groping here to find + What the hieroglyphics mean + Of the Unseen in the seen, + What the Thought which underlies + Nature's masking and disguise, + What it is that hides beneath + Blight and bloom and birth and death. + By past efforts unavailing, + Doubt and error, loss and failing, + Of our weakness made aware, + On the threshold of our task + Let us light and guidance ask, + Let us pause in silent prayer!" + + Then the Master in his place + Bowed his head a little space, + And the leaves by soft airs stirred, + Lapse of wave and cry of bird, + Left the solemn hush unbroken + Of that wordless prayer unspoken, + While its wish, on earth unsaid, + Rose to heaven interpreted. + As, in life's best hours, we hear + By the spirit's finer ear + His low voice within us, thus + The All-Father heareth us; + And His holy ear we pain + With our noisy words and vain. + Not for Him our violence + Storming at the gates of sense, + His the primal language, His + The eternal silences! + + Even the careless heart was moved, + And the doubting gave assent, + With a gesture reverent, + To the Master well-beloved. + As thin mists are glorified + By the light they cannot hide, + All who gazed upon him saw, + Through its veil of tender awe, + How his face was still uplit + By the old sweet look of it. + Hopeful, trustful, full of cheer, + And the love that casts out fear. + Who the secret may declare + Of that brief, unuttered prayer? + Did the shade before him come + Of th' inevitable doom, + Of the end of earth so near, + And Eternity's new year? + + In the lap of sheltering seas + Rests the isle of Penikese; + But the lord of the domain + Comes not to his own again + Where the eyes that follow fail, + On a vaster sea his sail + Drifts beyond our beck and hail. + Other lips within its bound + Shall the laws of life expound; + Other eyes from rock and shell + Read the world's old riddles well + But when breezes light and bland + Blow from Summer's blossomed land, + When the air is glad with wings, + And the blithe song-sparrow sings, + Many an eye with his still face + Shall the living ones displace, + Many an ear the word shall seek + He alone could fitly speak. + And one name forevermore + Shall be uttered o'er and o'er + By the waves that kiss the shore, + By the curlew's whistle sent + Down the cool, sea-scented air; + In all voices known to her, + Nature owns her worshipper, + Half in triumph, half lament. + Thither Love shall tearful turn, + Friendship pause uncovered there, + And the wisest reverence learn + From the Master's silent prayer. + + 1873. + + + + +IN QUEST + + Have I not voyaged, friend beloved, with thee + On the great waters of the unsounded sea, + Momently listening with suspended oar + For the low rote of waves upon a shore + Changeless as heaven, where never fog-cloud drifts + Over its windless wood, nor mirage lifts + The steadfast hills; where never birds of doubt + Sing to mislead, and every dream dies out, + And the dark riddles which perplex us here + In the sharp solvent of its light are clear? + Thou knowest how vain our quest; how, soon or late, + The baffling tides and circles of debate + Swept back our bark unto its starting-place, + Where, looking forth upon the blank, gray space, + And round about us seeing, with sad eyes, + The same old difficult hills and cloud-cold skies, + We said: "This outward search availeth not + To find Him. He is farther than we thought, + Or, haply, nearer. To this very spot + Whereon we wait, this commonplace of home, + As to the well of Jacob, He may come + And tell us all things." As I listened there, + Through the expectant silences of prayer, + Somewhat I seemed to hear, which hath to me + Been hope, strength, comfort, and I give it thee. + + "The riddle of the world is understood + Only by him who feels that God is good, + As only he can feel who makes his love + The ladder of his faith, and climbs above + On th' rounds of his best instincts; draws no line + Between mere human goodness and divine, + But, judging God by what in him is best, + With a child's trust leans on a Father's breast, + And hears unmoved the old creeds babble still + Of kingly power and dread caprice of will, + Chary of blessing, prodigal of curse, + The pitiless doomsman of the universe. + Can Hatred ask for love? Can Selfishness + Invite to self-denial? Is He less + Than man in kindly dealing? Can He break + His own great law of fatherhood, forsake + And curse His children? Not for earth and heaven + Can separate tables of the law be given. + No rule can bind which He himself denies; + The truths of time are not eternal lies." + + So heard I; and the chaos round me spread + To light and order grew; and, "Lord," I said, + "Our sins are our tormentors, worst of all + Felt in distrustful shame that dares not call + Upon Thee as our Father. We have set + A strange god up, but Thou remainest yet. + All that I feel of pity Thou hast known + Before I was; my best is all Thy own. + From Thy great heart of goodness mine but drew + Wishes and prayers; but Thou, O Lord, wilt do, + In Thy own time, by ways I cannot see, + All that I feel when I am nearest Thee!" + + 1873. + + + + +THE FRIEND'S BURIAL. + + My thoughts are all in yonder town, + Where, wept by many tears, + To-day my mother's friend lays down + The burden of her years. + + True as in life, no poor disguise + Of death with her is seen, + And on her simple casket lies + No wreath of bloom and green. + + Oh, not for her the florist's art, + The mocking weeds of woe; + Dear memories in each mourner's heart + Like heaven's white lilies blow. + + And all about the softening air + Of new-born sweetness tells, + And the ungathered May-flowers wear + The tints of ocean shells. + + The old, assuring miracle + Is fresh as heretofore; + And earth takes up its parable + Of life from death once more. + + Here organ-swell and church-bell toll + Methinks but discord were; + The prayerful silence of the soul + Is best befitting her. + + No sound should break the quietude + Alike of earth and sky + O wandering wind in Seabrook wood, + Breathe but a half-heard sigh! + + Sing softly, spring-bird, for her sake; + And thou not distant sea, + Lapse lightly as if Jesus spake, + And thou wert Galilee! + + For all her quiet life flowed on + As meadow streamlets flow, + Where fresher green reveals alone + The noiseless ways they go. + + From her loved place of prayer I see + The plain-robed mourners pass, + With slow feet treading reverently + The graveyard's springing grass. + + Make room, O mourning ones, for me, + Where, like the friends of Paul, + That you no more her face shall see + You sorrow most of all. + + Her path shall brighten more and more + Unto the perfect day; + She cannot fail of peace who bore + Such peace with her away. + + O sweet, calm face that seemed to wear + The look of sins forgiven! + O voice of prayer that seemed to bear + Our own needs up to heaven! + + How reverent in our midst she stood, + Or knelt in grateful praise! + What grace of Christian womanhood + Was in her household ways! + + For still her holy living meant + No duty left undone; + The heavenly and the human blent + Their kindred loves in one. + + And if her life small leisure found + For feasting ear and eye, + And Pleasure, on her daily round, + She passed unpausing by, + + Yet with her went a secret sense + Of all things sweet and fair, + And Beauty's gracious providence + Refreshed her unaware. + + She kept her line of rectitude + With love's unconscious ease; + Her kindly instincts understood + All gentle courtesies. + + An inborn charm of graciousness + Made sweet her smile and tone, + And glorified her farm-wife dress + With beauty not its own. + + The dear Lord's best interpreters + Are humble human souls; + The Gospel of a life like hers + Is more than books or scrolls. + + From scheme and creed the light goes out, + The saintly fact survives; + The blessed Master none can doubt + Revealed in holy lives. + 1873. + + + + +A CHRISTMAS CARMEN. + + I. + Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands, + The chorus of voices, the clasping of hands; + Sing hymns that were sung by the stars of the morn, + Sing songs of the angels when Jesus was born! + With glad jubilations + Bring hope to the nations + The dark night is ending and dawn has begun + Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, + All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one! + + II. + Sing the bridal of nations! with chorals of love + Sing out the war-vulture and sing in the dove, + Till the hearts of the peoples keep time in accord, + And the voice of the world is the voice of the Lord! + Clasp hands of the nations + In strong gratulations: + The dark night is ending and dawn has begun; + Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, + All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one! + + III. + Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace; + East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease + Sing the song of great joy that the angels began, + Sing of glory to God and of good-will to man! + Hark! joining in chorus + The heavens bend o'er us' + The dark night is ending and dawn has begun; + Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, + All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one! + 1873. + + + + +VESTA. + + O Christ of God! whose life and death + Our own have reconciled, + Most quietly, most tenderly + Take home Thy star-named child! + + Thy grace is in her patient eyes, + Thy words are on her tongue; + The very silence round her seems + As if the angels sung. + + Her smile is as a listening child's + Who hears its mother call; + The lilies of Thy perfect peace + About her pillow fall. + + She leans from out our clinging arms + To rest herself in Thine; + Alone to Thee, dear Lord, can we + Our well-beloved resign! + + Oh, less for her than for ourselves + We bow our heads and pray; + Her setting star, like Bethlehem's, + To Thee shall point the way! + 1874. + + + + +CHILD-SONGS. + + Still linger in our noon of time + And on our Saxon tongue + The echoes of the home-born hymns + The Aryan mothers sung. + + And childhood had its litanies + In every age and clime; + The earliest cradles of the race + Were rocked to poet's rhyme. + + Nor sky, nor wave, nor tree, nor flower, + Nor green earth's virgin sod, + So moved the singer's heart of old + As these small ones of God. + + The mystery of unfolding life + Was more than dawning morn, + Than opening flower or crescent moon + The human soul new-born. + + And still to childhood's sweet appeal + The heart of genius turns, + And more than all the sages teach + From lisping voices learns,-- + + The voices loved of him who sang, + Where Tweed and Teviot glide, + That sound to-day on all the winds + That blow from Rydal-side,-- + + Heard in the Teuton's household songs, + And folk-lore of the Finn, + Where'er to holy Christmas hearths + The Christ-child enters in! + + Before life's sweetest mystery still + The heart in reverence kneels; + The wonder of the primal birth + The latest mother feels. + + We need love's tender lessons taught + As only weakness can; + God hath His small interpreters; + The child must teach the man. + + We wander wide through evil years, + Our eyes of faith grow dim; + But he is freshest from His hands + And nearest unto Him! + + And haply, pleading long with Him + For sin-sick hearts and cold, + The angels of our childhood still + The Father's face behold. + + Of such the kingdom!--Teach Thou us, + O-Master most divine, + To feel the deep significance + Of these wise words of Thine! + + The haughty eye shall seek in vain + What innocence beholds; + No cunning finds the key of heaven, + No strength its gate unfolds. + + Alone to guilelessness and love + That gate shall open fall; + The mind of pride is nothingness, + The childlike heart is all! + + 1875. + + + +THE HEALER. + +TO A YOUNG PHYSICIAN, WITH DORE'S PICTURE OF CHRIST HEALING THE SICK. + + So stood of old the holy Christ + Amidst the suffering throng; + With whom His lightest touch sufficed + To make the weakest strong. + + That healing gift He lends to them + Who use it in His name; + The power that filled His garment's hem + Is evermore the same. + + For lo! in human hearts unseen + The Healer dwelleth still, + And they who make His temples clean + The best subserve His will. + + The holiest task by Heaven decreed, + An errand all divine, + The burden of our common need + To render less is thine. + + The paths of pain are thine. Go forth + With patience, trust, and hope; + The sufferings of a sin-sick earth + Shall give thee ample scope. + + Beside the unveiled mysteries + Of life and death go stand, + With guarded lips and reverent eyes + And pure of heart and hand. + + So shalt thou be with power endued + From Him who went about + The Syrian hillsides doing good, + And casting demons out. + + That Good Physician liveth yet + Thy friend and guide to be; + The Healer by Gennesaret + Shall walk the rounds with thee. + + + + +THE TWO ANGELS. + + God called the nearest angels who dwell with Him above: + The tenderest one was Pity, the dearest one was Love. + + "Arise," He said, "my angels! a wail of woe and sin + Steals through the gates of heaven, and saddens all within. + + "My harps take up the mournful strain that from a lost world swells, + The smoke of torment clouds the light and blights the asphodels. + + "Fly downward to that under world, and on its souls of pain + Let Love drop smiles like sunshine, and Pity tears like rain!" + + Two faces bowed before the Throne, veiled in their golden hair; + Four white wings lessened swiftly down the dark abyss of air. + + The way was strange, the flight was long; at last the angels came + Where swung the lost and nether world, red-wrapped in rayless flame. + + There Pity, shuddering, wept; but Love, with faith too strong for fear, + Took heart from God's almightiness and smiled a smile of cheer. + + And lo! that tear of Pity quenched the flame whereon it fell, + And, with the sunshine of that smile, hope entered into hell! + + Two unveiled faces full of joy looked upward to the Throne, + Four white wings folded at the feet of Him who sat thereon! + + And deeper than the sound of seas, more soft than falling flake, + Amidst the hush of wing and song the Voice Eternal spake: + + "Welcome, my angels! ye have brought a holier joy to heaven; + Henceforth its sweetest song shall be the song of sin forgiven!" + + 1875. + + + + +OVERRULED. + + The threads our hands in blindness spin + No self-determined plan weaves in; + The shuttle of the unseen powers + Works out a pattern not as ours. + + Ah! small the choice of him who sings + What sound shall leave the smitten strings; + Fate holds and guides the hand of art; + The singer's is the servant's part. + + The wind-harp chooses not the tone + That through its trembling threads is blown; + The patient organ cannot guess + What hand its passive keys shall press. + + Through wish, resolve, and act, our will + Is moved by undreamed forces still; + And no man measures in advance + His strength with untried circumstance. + + As streams take hue from shade and sun, + As runs the life the song must run; + But, glad or sad, to His good end + God grant the varying notes may tend! + 1877. + + + + +HYMN OF THE DUNKERS + +KLOSTER KEDAR, EPHRATA, PENNSYLVANIA (1738) + +SISTER MARIA CHRISTINA sings + + Wake, sisters, wake! the day-star shines; + Above Ephrata's eastern pines + The dawn is breaking, cool and calm. + Wake, sisters, wake to prayer and psalm! + + Praised be the Lord for shade and light, + For toil by day, for rest by night! + Praised be His name who deigns to bless + Our Kedar of the wilderness! + + Our refuge when the spoiler's hand + Was heavy on our native land; + And freedom, to her children due, + The wolf and vulture only knew. + + We praised Him when to prison led, + We owned Him when the stake blazed red; + We knew, whatever might befall, + His love and power were over all. + + He heard our prayers; with outstretched arm + He led us forth from cruel harm; + Still, wheresoe'er our steps were bent, + His cloud and fire before us went! + + The watch of faith and prayer He set, + We kept it then, we keep it yet. + At midnight, crow of cock, or noon, + He cometh sure, He cometh soon. + + He comes to chasten, not destroy, + To purge the earth from sin's alloy. + At last, at last shall all confess + His mercy as His righteousness. + + The dead shall live, the sick be whole, + The scarlet sin be white as wool; + No discord mar below, above, + The music of eternal love! + + Sound, welcome trump, the last alarm! + Lord God of hosts, make bare thine arm, + Fulfil this day our long desire, + Make sweet and clean the world with fire! + + Sweep, flaming besom, sweep from sight + The lies of time; be swift to smite, + Sharp sword of God, all idols down, + Genevan creed and Roman crown. + + Quake, earth, through all thy zones, till all + The fanes of pride and priesteraft fall; + And lift thou up in place of them + Thy gates of pearl, Jerusalem! + + Lo! rising from baptismal flame, + Transfigured, glorious, yet the same, + Within the heavenly city's bound + Our Kloster Kedar shall be found. + + He cometh soon! at dawn or noon + Or set of sun, He cometh soon. + Our prayers shall meet Him on His way; + Wake, sisters, wake! arise and pray! + + 1877. + + + + +GIVING AND TAKING. + +I have attempted to put in English verse a prose translation of a poem +by Tinnevaluva, a Hindoo poet of the third century of our era. + + + Who gives and hides the giving hand, + Nor counts on favor, fame, or praise, + Shall find his smallest gift outweighs + The burden of the sea and land. + + Who gives to whom hath naught been given, + His gift in need, though small indeed + As is the grass-blade's wind-blown seed, + Is large as earth and rich as heaven. + + Forget it not, O man, to whom + A gift shall fall, while yet on earth; + Yea, even to thy seven-fold birth + Recall it in the lives to come. + + Who broods above a wrong in thought + Sins much; but greater sin is his + Who, fed and clothed with kindnesses, + Shall count the holy alms as nought. + + Who dares to curse the hands that bless + Shall know of sin the deadliest cost; + The patience of the heavens is lost + Beholding man's unthankfulness. + + For he who breaks all laws may still + In Sivam's mercy be forgiven; + But none can save, in earth or heaven, + The wretch who answers good with ill. + + 1877. + + + + +THE VISION OF ECHARD. + + The Benedictine Echard + Sat by the wayside well, + Where Marsberg sees the bridal + Of the Sarre and the Moselle. + + Fair with its sloping vineyards + And tawny chestnut bloom, + The happy vale Ausonius sunk + For holy Treves made room. + + On the shrine Helena builded + To keep the Christ coat well, + On minster tower and kloster cross, + The westering sunshine fell. + + There, where the rock-hewn circles + O'erlooked the Roman's game, + The veil of sleep fell on him, + And his thought a dream became. + + He felt the heart of silence + Throb with a soundless word, + And by the inward ear alone + A spirit's voice he heard. + + And the spoken word seemed written + On air and wave and sod, + And the bending walls of sapphire + Blazed with the thought of God. + + "What lack I, O my children? + All things are in my band; + The vast earth and the awful stars + I hold as grains of sand. + + "Need I your alms? The silver + And gold are mine alone; + The gifts ye bring before me + Were evermore my own. + + "Heed I the noise of viols, + Your pomp of masque and show? + Have I not dawns and sunsets + Have I not winds that blow? + + "Do I smell your gums of incense? + Is my ear with chantings fed? + Taste I your wine of worship, + Or eat your holy bread? + + "Of rank and name and honors + Am I vain as ye are vain? + What can Eternal Fulness + From your lip-service gain? + + "Ye make me not your debtor + Who serve yourselves alone; + Ye boast to me of homage + Whose gain is all your own. + + "For you I gave the prophets, + For you the Psalmist's lay + For you the law's stone tables, + And holy book and day. + + "Ye change to weary burdens + The helps that should uplift; + Ye lose in form the spirit, + The Giver in the gift. + + "Who called ye to self-torment, + To fast and penance vain? + Dream ye Eternal Goodness + Has joy in mortal pain? + + "For the death in life of Nitria, + For your Chartreuse ever dumb, + What better is the neighbor, + Or happier the home? + + "Who counts his brother's welfare + As sacred as his own, + And loves, forgives, and pities, + He serveth me alone. + + "I note each gracious purpose, + Each kindly word and deed; + Are ye not all my children? + Shall not the Father heed? + + "No prayer for light and guidance + Is lost upon mine ear + The child's cry in the darkness + Shall not the Father hear? + + "I loathe your wrangling councils, + I tread upon your creeds; + Who made ye mine avengers, + Or told ye of my needs; + + "I bless men and ye curse them, + I love them and ye hate; + Ye bite and tear each other, + I suffer long and wait. + + "Ye bow to ghastly symbols, + To cross and scourge and thorn; + Ye seek his Syrian manger + Who in the heart is born. + + "For the dead Christ, not the living, + Ye watch His empty grave, + Whose life alone within you + Has power to bless and save. + + "O blind ones, outward groping, + The idle quest forego; + Who listens to His inward voice + Alone of Him shall know. + + "His love all love exceeding + The heart must needs recall, + Its self-surrendering freedom, + Its loss that gaineth all. + + "Climb not the holy mountains, + Their eagles know not me; + Seek not the Blessed Islands, + I dwell not in the sea. + + "Gone is the mount of Meru, + The triple gods are gone, + And, deaf to all the lama's prayers, + The Buddha slumbers on. + + "No more from rocky Horeb + The smitten waters gush; + Fallen is Bethel's ladder, + Quenched is the burning bush. + + "The jewels of the Urim + And Thurnmim all are dim; + The fire has left the altar, + The sign the teraphim. + + "No more in ark or hill grove + The Holiest abides; + Not in the scroll's dead letter + The eternal secret hides. + + "The eye shall fail that searches + For me the hollow sky; + The far is even as the near, + The low is as the high. + + "What if the earth is hiding + Her old faiths, long outworn? + What is it to the changeless truth + That yours shall fail in turn? + + "What if the o'erturned altar + Lays bare the ancient lie? + What if the dreams and legends + Of the world's childhood die? + + "Have ye not still my witness + Within yourselves alway, + My hand that on the keys of life + For bliss or bale I lay? + + "Still, in perpetual judgment, + I hold assize within, + With sure reward of holiness, + And dread rebuke of sin. + + "A light, a guide, a warning, + A presence ever near, + Through the deep silence of the flesh + I reach the inward ear. + + "My Gerizim and Ebal + Are in each human soul, + The still, small voice of blessing, + And Sinai's thunder-roll. + + "The stern behest of duty, + The doom-book open thrown, + The heaven ye seek, the hell ye fear, + Are with yourselves alone." + + . . . . . + + A gold and purple sunset + Flowed down the broad Moselle; + On hills of vine and meadow lands + The peace of twilight fell. + + A slow, cool wind of evening + Blew over leaf and bloom; + And, faint and far, the Angelus + Rang from Saint Matthew's tomb. + + Then up rose Master Echard, + And marvelled: "Can it be + That here, in dream and vision, + The Lord hath talked with me?" + + He went his way; behind him + The shrines of saintly dead, + The holy coat and nail of cross, + He left unvisited. + + He sought the vale of Eltzbach + His burdened soul to free, + Where the foot-hills of the Eifel + Are glassed in Laachersee. + + And, in his Order's kloster, + He sat, in night-long parle, + With Tauler of the Friends of God, + And Nicolas of Basle. + + And lo! the twain made answer + "Yea, brother, even thus + The Voice above all voices + Hath spoken unto us. + + "The world will have its idols, + And flesh and sense their sign + But the blinded eyes shall open, + And the gross ear be fine. + + "What if the vision tarry? + God's time is always best; + The true Light shall be witnessed, + The Christ within confessed. + + "In mercy or in judgment + He shall turn and overturn, + Till the heart shall be His temple + Where all of Him shall learn." + + + + +INSCRIPTIONS. + +ON A SUN-DIAL. + +FOR DR. HENRY I. BOWDITCH. + + With warning hand I mark Time's rapid flight + From life's glad morning to its solemn night; + Yet, through the dear God's love, I also show + There's Light above me by the Shade below. + + 1879. + + + + +ON A FOUNTAIN. + +FOR DOROTHEA L. DIX. + + Stranger and traveller, + Drink freely and bestow + A kindly thought on her + Who bade this fountain flow, + Yet hath no other claim + Than as the minister + Of blessing in God's name. + Drink, and in His peace go + + 1879 + + + + +THE MINISTER'S DAUGHTER. + + In the minister's morning sermon + He had told of the primal fall, + And how thenceforth the wrath of God + Rested on each and all. + + And how of His will and pleasure, + All souls, save a chosen few, + Were doomed to the quenchless burning, + And held in the way thereto. + + Yet never by faith's unreason + A saintlier soul was tried, + And never the harsh old lesson + A tenderer heart belied. + + And, after the painful service + On that pleasant Sabbath day, + He walked with his little daughter + Through the apple-bloom of May. + + Sweet in the fresh green meadows + Sparrow and blackbird sung; + Above him their tinted petals + The blossoming orchards hung. + + Around on the wonderful glory + The minister looked and smiled; + "How good is the Lord who gives us + These gifts from His hand, my child. + + "Behold in the bloom of apples + And the violets in the sward + A hint of the old, lost beauty + Of the Garden of the Lord!" + + Then up spake the little maiden, + Treading on snow and pink + "O father! these pretty blossoms + Are very wicked, I think. + + "Had there been no Garden of Eden + There never had been a fall; + And if never a tree had blossomed + God would have loved us all." + + "Hush, child!" the father answered, + "By His decree man fell; + His ways are in clouds and darkness, + But He doeth all things well. + + "And whether by His ordaining + To us cometh good or ill, + Joy or pain, or light or shadow, + We must fear and love Him still." + + "Oh, I fear Him!" said the daughter, + "And I try to love Him, too; + But I wish He was good and gentle, + Kind and loving as you." + + The minister groaned in spirit + As the tremulous lips of pain + And wide, wet eyes uplifted + Questioned his own in vain. + + Bowing his head he pondered + The words of the little one; + Had he erred in his life-long teaching? + Had he wrong to his Master done? + + To what grim and dreadful idol + Had he lent the holiest name? + Did his own heart, loving and human, + The God of his worship shame? + + And lo! from the bloom and greenness, + From the tender skies above, + And the face of his little daughter, + He read a lesson of love. + + No more as the cloudy terror + Of Sinai's mount of law, + But as Christ in the Syrian lilies + The vision of God he saw. + + And, as when, in the clefts of Horeb, + Of old was His presence known, + The dread Ineffable Glory + Was Infinite Goodness alone. + + Thereafter his hearers noted + In his prayers a tenderer strain, + And never the gospel of hatred + Burned on his lips again. + + And the scoffing tongue was prayerful, + And the blinded eyes found sight, + And hearts, as flint aforetime, + Grew soft in his warmth and light. + + 1880. + + + + +BY THEIR WORKS. + + Call him not heretic whose works attest + His faith in goodness by no creed confessed. + Whatever in love's name is truly done + To free the bound and lift the fallen one + Is done to Christ. Whoso in deed and word + Is not against Him labors for our Lord. + When He, who, sad and weary, longing sore + For love's sweet service, sought the sisters' door, + One saw the heavenly, one the human guest, + But who shall say which loved the Master best? + + 1881. + + + + +THE WORD. + + Voice of the Holy Spirit, making known + Man to himself, a witness swift and sure, + Warning, approving, true and wise and pure, + Counsel and guidance that misleadeth none! + By thee the mystery of life is read; + The picture-writing of the world's gray seers, + The myths and parables of the primal years, + Whose letter kills, by thee interpreted + Take healthful meanings fitted to our needs, + And in the soul's vernacular express + The common law of simple righteousness. + Hatred of cant and doubt of human creeds + May well be felt: the unpardonable sin + Is to deny the Word of God within! + + 1881. + + + + +THE BOOK. + + Gallery of sacred pictures manifold, + A minster rich in holy effigies, + And bearing on entablature and frieze + The hieroglyphic oracles of old. + Along its transept aureoled martyrs sit; + And the low chancel side-lights half acquaint + The eye with shrines of prophet, bard, and saint, + Their age-dimmed tablets traced in doubtful writ! + But only when on form and word obscure + Falls from above the white supernal light + We read the mystic characters aright, + And life informs the silent portraiture, + Until we pause at last, awe-held, before + The One ineffable Face, love, wonder, and adore. + + 1881 + + + + +REQUIREMENT. + + We live by Faith; but Faith is not the slave + Of text and legend. Reason's voice and God's, + Nature's and Duty's, never are at odds. + What asks our Father of His children, save + Justice and mercy and humility, + A reasonable service of good deeds, + Pure living, tenderness to human needs, + Reverence and trust, and prayer for light to see + The Master's footprints in our daily ways? + No knotted scourge nor sacrificial knife, + But the calm beauty of an ordered life + Whose very breathing is unworded praise!-- + A life that stands as all true lives have stood, + Firm-rooted in the faith that God is Good. + + 1881. + + + + +HELP. + + Dream not, O Soul, that easy is the task + Thus set before thee. If it proves at length, + As well it may, beyond thy natural strength, + Faint not, despair not. As a child may ask + A father, pray the Everlasting Good + For light and guidance midst the subtle snares + Of sin thick planted in life's thoroughfares, + For spiritual strength and moral hardihood; + Still listening, through the noise of time and sense, + To the still whisper of the Inward Word; + Bitter in blame, sweet in approval heard, + Itself its own confirming evidence + To health of soul a voice to cheer and please, + To guilt the wrath of the Eumenides. + + 1881. + + + + +UTTERANCE. + + But what avail inadequate words to reach + The innermost of Truth? Who shall essay, + Blinded and weak, to point and lead the way, + Or solve the mystery in familiar speech? + Yet, if it be that something not thy own, + Some shadow of the Thought to which our schemes, + Creeds, cult, and ritual are at best but dreams, + Is even to thy unworthiness made known, + Thou mayst not hide what yet thou shouldst not dare + To utter lightly, lest on lips of thine + The real seem false, the beauty undivine. + So, weighing duty in the scale of prayer, + Give what seems given thee. It may prove a seed + Of goodness dropped in fallow-grounds of need. + + 1881. + + + + + +ORIENTAL MAXIMS. + +PARAPHRASE OF SANSCRIT TRANSLATIONS. + + + + +THE INWARD JUDGE. + +From Institutes of Manu. + + The soul itself its awful witness is. + Say not in evil doing, "No one sees," + And so offend the conscious One within, + Whose ear can hear the silences of sin. + + Ere they find voice, whose eyes unsleeping see + The secret motions of iniquity. + Nor in thy folly say, "I am alone." + For, seated in thy heart, as on a throne, + The ancient Judge and Witness liveth still, + To note thy act and thought; and as thy ill + Or good goes from thee, far beyond thy reach, + The solemn Doomsman's seal is set on each. + + 1878. + + + + +LAYING UP TREASURE + +From the Mahabharata. + + Before the Ender comes, whose charioteer + Is swift or slow Disease, lay up each year + Thy harvests of well-doing, wealth that kings + Nor thieves can take away. When all the things + Thou tallest thine, goods, pleasures, honors fall, + Thou in thy virtue shalt survive them all. + + 1881. + + + + +CONDUCT + +From the Mahabharata. + + Heed how thou livest. Do no act by day + Which from the night shall drive thy peace away. + In months of sun so live that months of rain + Shall still be happy. Evermore restrain + Evil and cherish good, so shall there be + Another and a happier life for thee. + + 1881. + + + + +AN EASTER FLOWER GIFT. + + O dearest bloom the seasons know, + Flowers of the Resurrection blow, + Our hope and faith restore; + And through the bitterness of death + And loss and sorrow, breathe a breath + Of life forevermore! + + The thought of Love Immortal blends + With fond remembrances of friends; + In you, O sacred flowers, + By human love made doubly sweet, + The heavenly and the earthly meet, + The heart of Christ and ours! + + 1882. + + + + +THE MYSTIC'S CHRISTMAS. + + "All hail!" the bells of Christmas rang, + "All hail!" the monks at Christmas sang, + The merry monks who kept with cheer + The gladdest day of all their year. + + But still apart, unmoved thereat, + A pious elder brother sat + Silent, in his accustomed place, + With God's sweet peace upon his face. + + "Why sitt'st thou thus?" his brethren cried. + "It is the blessed Christmas-tide; + The Christmas lights are all aglow, + The sacred lilies bud and blow. + + "Above our heads the joy-bells ring, + Without the happy children sing, + And all God's creatures hail the morn + On which the holy Christ was born! + + "Rejoice with us; no more rebuke + Our gladness with thy quiet look." + The gray monk answered: "Keep, I pray, + Even as ye list, the Lord's birthday. + + "Let heathen Yule fires flicker red + Where thronged refectory feasts are spread; + With mystery-play and masque and mime + And wait-songs speed the holy time! + + "The blindest faith may haply save; + The Lord accepts the things we have; + And reverence, howsoe'er it strays, + May find at last the shining ways. + + "They needs must grope who cannot see, + The blade before the ear must be; + As ye are feeling I have felt, + And where ye dwell I too have dwelt. + + "But now, beyond the things of sense, + Beyond occasions and events, + I know, through God's exceeding grace, + Release from form and time and place. + + "I listen, from no mortal tongue, + To hear the song the angels sung; + And wait within myself to know + The Christmas lilies bud and blow. + + "The outward symbols disappear + From him whose inward sight is clear; + And small must be the choice of clays + To him who fills them all with praise! + + "Keep while you need it, brothers mine, + With honest zeal your Christmas sign, + But judge not him who every morn + Feels in his heart the Lord Christ born!" + + 1882. + + + + +AT LAST. + + When on my day of life the night is falling, + And, in the winds from unsunned spaces blown, + I hear far voices out of darkness calling + My feet to paths unknown, + + Thou who hast made my home of life so pleasant, + Leave not its tenant when its walls decay; + O Love Divine, O Helper ever present, + Be Thou my strength and stay! + + Be near me when all else is from me drifting + Earth, sky, home's pictures, days of shade and shine, + And kindly faces to my own uplifting + The love which answers mine. + + I have but Thee, my Father! let Thy spirit + Be with me then to comfort and uphold; + No gate of pearl, no branch of palm I merit, + Nor street of shining gold. + + Suffice it if--my good and ill unreckoned, + And both forgiven through Thy abounding grace-- + I find myself by hands familiar beckoned + Unto my fitting place. + + Some humble door among Thy many mansions, + Some sheltering shade where sin and striving cease, + And flows forever through heaven's green expansions + The river of Thy peace. + + There, from the music round about me stealing, + I fain would learn the new and holy song, + And find at last, beneath Thy trees of healing, + The life for which I long. + + 1882 + + + + +WHAT THE TRAVELLER SAID AT SUNSET. + + The shadows grow and deepen round me, + I feel the deffall in the air; + The muezzin of the darkening thicket, + I hear the night-thrush call to prayer. + + The evening wind is sad with farewells, + And loving hands unclasp from mine; + Alone I go to meet the darkness + Across an awful boundary-line. + + As from the lighted hearths behind me + I pass with slow, reluctant feet, + What waits me in the land of strangeness? + What face shall smile, what voice shall greet? + + What space shall awe, what brightness blind me? + What thunder-roll of music stun? + What vast processions sweep before me + Of shapes unknown beneath the sun? + + I shrink from unaccustomed glory, + I dread the myriad-voiced strain; + Give me the unforgotten faces, + And let my lost ones speak again. + + He will not chide my mortal yearning + Who is our Brother and our Friend; + In whose full life, divine and human, + The heavenly and the earthly blend. + + Mine be the joy of soul-communion, + The sense of spiritual strength renewed, + The reverence for the pure and holy, + The dear delight of doing good. + + No fitting ear is mine to listen + An endless anthem's rise and fall; + No curious eye is mine to measure + The pearl gate and the jasper wall. + + For love must needs be more than knowledge: + What matter if I never know + Why Aldebaran's star is ruddy, + Or warmer Sirius white as snow! + + Forgive my human words, O Father! + I go Thy larger truth to prove; + Thy mercy shall transcend my longing + I seek but love, and Thou art Love! + + I go to find my lost and mourned for + Safe in Thy sheltering goodness still, + And all that hope and faith foreshadow + Made perfect in Thy holy will! + + 1883. + + + + +THE "STORY OF IDA." + +Francesca Alexander, whose pen and pencil have so reverently transcribed +the simple faith and life of the Italian peasantry, wrote the narrative +published with John Ruskin's introduction under the title, _The Story of +Ida_. + + + Weary of jangling noises never stilled, + The skeptic's sneer, the bigot's hate, the din + Of clashing texts, the webs of creed men spin + Round simple truth, the children grown who build + With gilded cards their new Jerusalem, + Busy, with sacerdotal tailorings + And tinsel gauds, bedizening holy things, + I turn, with glad and grateful heart, from them + To the sweet story of the Florentine + Immortal in her blameless maidenhood, + Beautiful as God's angels and as good; + Feeling that life, even now, may be divine + With love no wrong can ever change to hate, + No sin make less than all-compassionate! + + 1884. + + + + +THE LIGHT THAT IS FELT. + + A tender child of summers three, + Seeking her little bed at night, + Paused on the dark stair timidly. + "Oh, mother! Take my hand," said she, + "And then the dark will all be light." + + We older children grope our way + From dark behind to dark before; + And only when our hands we lay, + Dear Lord, in Thine, the night is day, + And there is darkness nevermore. + + Reach downward to the sunless days + Wherein our guides are blind as we, + And faith is small and hope delays; + Take Thou the hands of prayer we raise, + And let us feel the light of Thee! + + 1884. + + + + +THE TWO LOVES + + Smoothing soft the nestling head + Of a maiden fancy-led, + Thus a grave-eyed woman said: + + "Richest gifts are those we make, + Dearer than the love we take + That we give for love's own sake. + + "Well I know the heart's unrest; + Mine has been the common quest, + To be loved and therefore blest. + + "Favors undeserved were mine; + At my feet as on a shrine + Love has laid its gifts divine. + + "Sweet the offerings seemed, and yet + With their sweetness came regret, + And a sense of unpaid debt. + + "Heart of mine unsatisfied, + Was it vanity or pride + That a deeper joy denied? + + "Hands that ope but to receive + Empty close; they only live + Richly who can richly give. + + "Still," she sighed, with moistening eyes, + "Love is sweet in any guise; + But its best is sacrifice! + + "He who, giving, does not crave + Likest is to Him who gave + Life itself the loved to save. + + "Love, that self-forgetful gives, + Sows surprise of ripened sheaves, + Late or soon its own receives." + + 1884. + + + + +ADJUSTMENT. + + The tree of Faith its bare, dry boughs must shed + That nearer heaven the living ones may climb; + The false must fail, though from our shores of time + The old lament be heard, "Great Pan is dead!" + That wail is Error's, from his high place hurled; + This sharp recoil is Evil undertrod; + Our time's unrest, an angel sent of God + Troubling with life the waters of the world. + Even as they list the winds of the Spirit blow + To turn or break our century-rusted vanes; + Sands shift and waste; the rock alone remains + Where, led of Heaven, the strong tides come and go, + And storm-clouds, rent by thunderbolt and wind, + Leave, free of mist, the permanent stars behind. + + Therefore I trust, although to outward sense + Both true and false seem shaken; I will hold + With newer light my reverence for the old, + And calmly wait the births of Providence. + No gain is lost; the clear-eyed saints look down + Untroubled on the wreck of schemes and creeds; + Love yet remains, its rosary of good deeds + Counting in task-field and o'erpeopled town; + Truth has charmed life; the Inward Word survives, + And, day by day, its revelation brings; + Faith, hope, and charity, whatsoever things + Which cannot be shaken, stand. Still holy lives + Reveal the Christ of whom the letter told, + And the new gospel verifies the old. + + 1885. + + + + +HYMNS OF THE BRAHMO SOMAJ. + +I have attempted this paraphrase of the Hymns of the Brahmo Somaj of +India, as I find them in Mozoomdar's account of the devotional exercises +of that remarkable religious development which has attracted far less +attention and sympathy from the Christian world than it deserves, as a +fresh revelation of the direct action of the Divine Spirit upon the +human heart. + + + I. + The mercy, O Eternal One! + By man unmeasured yet, + In joy or grief, in shade or sun, + I never will forget. + I give the whole, and not a part, + Of all Thou gayest me; + My goods, my life, my soul and heart, + I yield them all to Thee! + + II. + We fast and plead, we weep and pray, + From morning until even; + We feel to find the holy way, + We knock at the gate of heaven + And when in silent awe we wait, + And word and sign forbear, + The hinges of the golden gate + Move, soundless, to our prayer! + Who hears the eternal harmonies + Can heed no outward word; + Blind to all else is he who sees + The vision of the Lord! + + III. + O soul, be patient, restrain thy tears, + Have hope, and not despair; + As a tender mother heareth her child + God hears the penitent prayer. + And not forever shall grief be thine; + On the Heavenly Mother's breast, + Washed clean and white in the waters of joy + Shall His seeking child find rest. + Console thyself with His word of grace, + And cease thy wail of woe, + For His mercy never an equal hath, + And His love no bounds can know. + Lean close unto Him in faith and hope; + How many like thee have found + In Him a shelter and home of peace, + By His mercy compassed round! + There, safe from sin and the sorrow it brings, + They sing their grateful psalms, + And rest, at noon, by the wells of God, + In the shade of His holy palms! + + 1885. + + + + +REVELATION. + +"And I went into the Vale of Beavor, and as I went I preached repentance +to the people. And one morning, sitting by the fire, a great cloud came +over me, and a temptation beset me. And it was said: All things come by +Nature; and the Elements and the Stars came over me. And as I sat still +and let it alone, a living hope arose in me, and a true Voice which +said: There is a living God who made all things. And immediately the +cloud and the temptation vanished, and Life rose over all, and my heart +was glad and I praised the Living God."--Journal of George Fox, 1690. + + + Still, as of old, in Beavor's Vale, + O man of God! our hope and faith + The Elements and Stars assail, + And the awed spirit holds its breath, + Blown over by a wind of death. + + Takes Nature thought for such as we, + What place her human atom fills, + The weed-drift of her careless sea, + The mist on her unheeding hills? + What reeks she of our helpless wills? + + Strange god of Force, with fear, not love, + Its trembling worshipper! Can prayer + Reach the shut ear of Fate, or move + Unpitying Energy to spare? + What doth the cosmic Vastness care? + + In vain to this dread Unconcern + For the All-Father's love we look; + In vain, in quest of it, we turn + The storied leaves of Nature's book, + The prints her rocky tablets took. + + I pray for faith, I long to trust; + I listen with my heart, and hear + A Voice without a sound: "Be just, + Be true, be merciful, revere + The Word within thee: God is near! + + "A light to sky and earth unknown + Pales all their lights: a mightier force + Than theirs the powers of Nature own, + And, to its goal as at its source, + His Spirit moves the Universe. + + "Believe and trust. Through stars and suns, + Through life and death, through soul and sense, + His wise, paternal purpose runs; + The darkness of His providence + Is star-lit with benign intents." + + O joy supreme! I know the Voice, + Like none beside on earth or sea; + Yea, more, O soul of mine, rejoice, + By all that He requires of me, + I know what God himself must be. + + No picture to my aid I call, + I shape no image in my prayer; + I only know in Him is all + Of life, light, beauty, everywhere, + Eternal Goodness here and there! + + I know He is, and what He is, + Whose one great purpose is the good + Of all. I rest my soul on His + Immortal Love and Fatherhood; + And trust Him, as His children should. + + I fear no more. The clouded face + Of Nature smiles; through all her things + Of time and space and sense I trace + The moving of the Spirit's wings, + And hear the song of hope she sings. + + 1886 + + + + + +VOLUME III. ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS and SONGS OF LABOR AND REFORM + + + CONTENTS: + + + ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS: + + TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON + TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE + THE SLAVE-SHIPS + EXPOSTULATION + HYMN: "THOU, WHOSE PRESENCE WENT BEFORE" + THE YANKEE GIRL + THE HUNTERS OF MEN + STANZAS FOR THE TIMES + CLERICAL OPPRESSORS + A SUMMONS + TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS + THE MORAL WARFARE + RITNER + THE PASTORAL LETTER + HYMN: "O HOLY FATHER! JUST AND TRUE" + THE FAREWELL OF A VIRGINIA SLAVE MOTHER + PENNSYLVANIA HALL + THE NEW YEAR + THE RELIC + THE WORLD'S CONVENTION + MASSACHUSETTS TO VIRGINIA + THE CHRISTIAN SLAVE + THE SENTENCE OF JOHN L. BROWN + TEXAS + VOICE OF NEW ENGLAND + TO FANEUIL HALL + TO MASSACHUSETTS + NEW HAMPSHIRE + THE PINE-TREE + TO A SOUTHERN STATESMAN + AT WASHINGTON + THE BRANDED HAND + THE FREED ISLANDS + A LETTER + LINES FROM A LETTER TO A YOUNG CLERICAL FRIEND + DANIEL NEALL + SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT + To DELAWARE + YORKTOWN + RANDOLPH OF ROANOKE + THE LOST STATESMAN + THE SLAVES OF MARTINIQUE + THE CURSE OF THE CHARTER-BREAKERS + PAEAN + THE CRISIS + LINES ON THE PORTRAIT OF A CELEBRATED PUBLISHER + DERNE + A SABBATH SCENE + IN THE EVIL DAY + MOLOCH IN STATE STREET + OFFICIAL PIETY + THE RENDITION + ARISEN AT LAST + THE HASCHISH + FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS' SAKE + THE KANSAS EMIGRANTS + LETTER FROM A MISSIONARY OF THE METHODIST + EPISCOPAL CHURCH SOUTH, IN KANSAS, TO A + DISTINGUISHED POLITICIAN + BURIAL OF BARBER + TO PENNSYLVANIA + LE MARAIS DU CYGNE. + THE PASS OF THE SIERRA + A SONG FOR THE TIME + WHAT OF THE DAY? + A SONG, INSCRIBED TO THE FREMONT CLUBS + THE PANORAMA + ON A PRAYER-BOOK + THE SUMMONS + TO WILLIAM H. SEWARD + IN WAR TIME. + TO SAMUEL E. SEWALL AND HARRIET W. SEWALL + THY WILL BE DONE + A WORD FOR THE HOUR + "EIN FESTE BURG IST UNSER GOTT" + TO JOHN C. FREMONT + THE WATCHERS + TO ENGLISHMEN + MITHRIDATES AT CHIOS + AT PORT ROYAL + ASTRAEA AT THE CAPITOL + THE BATTLE AUTUMN OF 1862 + OF ST. HELENA'S ISLAND, S. C. + THE PROCLAMATION + ANNIVERSARY POEM + BARBARA FRIETCHIE + HAT THE BIRDS SAID + THE MANTLE OF ST. JOHN DE MATRA + LADS DEO! + HYMN FOR THE CELEBRATION OF EMANCIPATION + AT NEWBURYPORT + + AFTER THE WAR. + THE PEACE AUTUMN + TO THE THIRTY-NINTH CONGRESS + THE HIVE AT GETTYSBURG + HOWARD AT ATLANTA + THE EMANCIPATION GROUP + THE JUBILEE SINGERS + GARRISON + + + + SONGS OF LABOR AND REFORM: + + THE QUAKER OF THE OLDEN TIME + DEMOCRACY + THE GALLOWS + SEED-TIME AND HARVEST + TO THE REFORMERS OF ENGLAND + THE HUMAN SACRIFICE + SONGS OF LABOR + DEDICATION + THE SHOEMAKERS + THE FISHERMEN + THE LUMBERMEN + THE SHIP-BUILDERS + THE DROVERS + THE HUSKERS + THE REFORMER + THE PEACE CONVENTION AT BRUSSELS + THE PRISONER FOR DEBT + THE CHRISTIAN TOURISTS + THE MEN OF OLD + TO PIUS IX. + CALEF IN BOSTON + OUR STATE + THE PRISONERS OF NAPLES + THE PEACE OF EUROPE + ASTRAEA + THE DISENTHRALLED + THE POOR VOTER ON ELECTION DAY + THE DREAM OF PIO NONO + THE VOICES + THE NEW EXODUS + THE CONQUEST OF FINLAND + THE EVE OF ELECTION + FROM PERUGIA + ITALY + FREEDOM IN BRAZIL + AFTER ELECTION + DISARMAMENT + THE PROBLEM + OUR COUNTRY + ON THE BIG HORN + + NOTES + + + + +ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS + + + + +TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON + + CHAMPION of those who groan beneath + Oppression's iron hand + In view of penury, hate, and death, + I see thee fearless stand. + Still bearing up thy lofty brow, + In the steadfast strength of truth, + In manhood sealing well the vow + And promise of thy youth. + + Go on, for thou hast chosen well; + On in the strength of God! + Long as one human heart shall swell + Beneath the tyrant's rod. + Speak in a slumbering nation's ear, + As thou hast ever spoken, + Until the dead in sin shall hear, + The fetter's link be broken! + + I love thee with a brother's love, + I feel my pulses thrill, + To mark thy spirit soar above + The cloud of human ill. + My heart hath leaped to answer thine, + And echo back thy words, + As leaps the warrior's at the shine + And flash of kindred swords! + + They tell me thou art rash and vain, + A searcher after fame; + That thou art striving but to gain + A long-enduring name; + That thou hast nerved the Afric's hand + And steeled the Afric's heart, + To shake aloft his vengeful brand, + And rend his chain apart. + + Have I not known thee well, and read + Thy mighty purpose long? + And watched the trials which have made + Thy human spirit strong? + And shall the slanderer's demon breath + Avail with one like me, + To dim the sunshine of my faith + And earnest trust in thee? + + Go on, the dagger's point may glare + Amid thy pathway's gloom; + The fate which sternly threatens there + Is glorious martyrdom + Then onward with a martyr's zeal; + And wait thy sure reward + When man to man no more shall kneel, + And God alone be Lord! + + 1832. + + + + +TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE. + +Toussaint L'Ouverture, the black chieftain of Hayti, was a slave on the +plantation "de Libertas," belonging to M. Bayou. When the rising of the +negroes took place, in 1791, Toussaint refused to join them until he had +aided M. Bayou and his family to escape to Baltimore. The white man had +discovered in Toussaint many noble qualities, and had instructed him in +some of the first branches of education; and the preservation of his +life was owing to the negro's gratitude for this kindness. In 1797, +Toussaint L'Ouverture was appointed, by the French government, +General-in-Chief of the armies of St. Domingo, and, as such, signed the +Convention with General Maitland for the evacuation of the island by the +British. From this period, until 1801, the island, under the government +of Toussaint, was happy, tranquil, and prosperous. The miserable +attempt of Napoleon to re-establish slavery in St. Domingo, although it +failed of its intended object, proved fatal to the negro chieftain. +Treacherously seized by Leclerc, he was hurried on board a vessel by +night, and conveyed to France, where he was confined in a cold +subterranean dungeon, at Besancon, where, in April, 1803, he died. The +treatment of Toussaint finds a parallel only in the murder of the Duke +D'Enghien. It was the remark of Godwin, in his Lectures, that the West +India Islands, since their first discovery by Columbus, could not boast +of a single name which deserves comparison with that of Toussaint +L'Ouverture. + + 'T WAS night. The tranquil moonlight smile + With which Heaven dreams of Earth, shed down + Its beauty on the Indian isle,-- + On broad green field and white-walled town; + And inland waste of rock and wood, + In searching sunshine, wild and rude, + Rose, mellowed through the silver gleam, + Soft as the landscape of a dream. + All motionless and dewy wet, + Tree, vine, and flower in shadow met + The myrtle with its snowy bloom, + Crossing the nightshade's solemn gloom,-- + The white cecropia's silver rind + Relieved by deeper green behind, + The orange with its fruit of gold, + The lithe paullinia's verdant fold, + The passion-flower, with symbol holy, + Twining its tendrils long and lowly, + The rhexias dark, and cassia tall, + And proudly rising over all, + The kingly palm's imperial stem, + Crowned with its leafy diadem, + Star-like, beneath whose sombre shade, + The fiery-winged cucullo played! + + How lovely was thine aspect, then, + Fair island of the Western Sea + Lavish of beauty, even when + Thy brutes were happier than thy men, + For they, at least, were free! + Regardless of thy glorious clime, + Unmindful of thy soil of flowers, + The toiling negro sighed, that Time + No faster sped his hours. + For, by the dewy moonlight still, + He fed the weary-turning mill, + Or bent him in the chill morass, + To pluck the long and tangled grass, + And hear above his scar-worn back + The heavy slave-whip's frequent crack + While in his heart one evil thought + In solitary madness wrought, + One baleful fire surviving still + The quenching of the immortal mind, + One sterner passion of his kind, + Which even fetters could not kill, + The savage hope, to deal, erelong, + A vengeance bitterer than his wrong! + + Hark to that cry! long, loud, and shrill, + From field and forest, rock and hill, + Thrilling and horrible it rang, + Around, beneath, above; + The wild beast from his cavern sprang, + The wild bird from her grove! + Nor fear, nor joy, nor agony + Were mingled in that midnight cry; + But like the lion's growl of wrath, + When falls that hunter in his path + Whose barbed arrow, deeply set, + Is rankling in his bosom yet, + It told of hate, full, deep, and strong, + Of vengeance kindling out of wrong; + It was as if the crimes of years-- + The unrequited toil, the tears, + The shame and hate, which liken well + Earth's garden to the nether hell-- + Had found in nature's self a tongue, + On which the gathered horror hung; + As if from cliff, and stream, and glen + Burst on the' startled ears of men + That voice which rises unto God, + Solemn and stern,--the cry of blood! + It ceased, and all was still once more, + Save ocean chafing on his shore, + The sighing of the wind between + The broad banana's leaves of green, + Or bough by restless plumage shook, + Or murmuring voice of mountain brook. + Brief was the silence. Once again + Pealed to the skies that frantic yell, + Glowed on the heavens a fiery stain, + And flashes rose and fell; + And painted on the blood-red sky, + Dark, naked arms were tossed on high; + And, round the white man's lordly hall, + Trod, fierce and free, the brute he made; + And those who crept along the wall, + And answered to his lightest call + With more than spaniel dread, + The creatures of his lawless beck, + Were trampling on his very neck + And on the night-air, wild and clear, + Rose woman's shriek of more than fear; + For bloodied arms were round her thrown, + And dark cheeks pressed against her own! + Where then was he whose fiery zeal + Had taught the trampled heart to feel, + Until despair itself grew strong, + And vengeance fed its torch from wrong? + Now, when the thunderbolt is speeding; + Now, when oppression's heart is bleeding; + Now, when the latent curse of Time + Is raining down in fire and blood, + That curse which, through long years of crime, + Has gathered, drop by drop, its flood,-- + Why strikes he not, the foremost one, + Where murder's sternest deeds are done? + + He stood the aged palms beneath, + That shadowed o'er his humble door, + Listening, with half-suspended breath, + To the wild sounds of fear and death, + Toussaint L'Ouverture! + What marvel that his heart beat high! + The blow for freedom had been given, + And blood had answered to the cry + Which Earth sent up to Heaven! + What marvel that a fierce delight + Smiled grimly o'er his brow of night, + As groan and shout and bursting flame + Told where the midnight tempest came, + With blood and fire along its van, + And death behind! he was a Man! + + Yes, dark-souled chieftain! if the light + Of mild Religion's heavenly ray + Unveiled not to thy mental sight + The lowlier and the purer way, + In which the Holy Sufferer trod, + Meekly amidst the sons of crime; + That calm reliance upon God + For justice in His own good time; + That gentleness to which belongs + Forgiveness for its many wrongs, + Even as the primal martyr, kneeling + For mercy on the evil-dealing; + Let not the favored white man name + Thy stern appeal, with words of blame. + Then, injured Afric! for the shame + Of thy own daughters, vengeance came + Full on the scornful hearts of those, + Who mocked thee in thy nameless woes, + And to thy hapless children gave + One choice,--pollution or the grave! + + Has he not, with the light of heaven + Broadly around him, made the same? + Yea, on his thousand war-fields striven, + And gloried in his ghastly shame? + Kneeling amidst his brother's blood, + To offer mockery unto God, + As if the High and Holy One + Could smile on deeds of murder done! + As if a human sacrifice + Were purer in His holy eyes, + Though offered up by Christian hands, + Than the foul rites of Pagan lands! + + . . . . . . . . . . . + + Sternly, amidst his household band, + His carbine grasped within his hand, + The white man stood, prepared and still, + Waiting the shock of maddened men, + Unchained, and fierce as tigers, when + The horn winds through their caverned hill. + And one was weeping in his sight, + The sweetest flower of all the isle, + The bride who seemed but yesternight + Love's fair embodied smile. + And, clinging to her trembling knee, + Looked up the form of infancy, + With tearful glance in either face + The secret of its fear to trace. + + "Ha! stand or die!" The white man's eye + His steady musket gleamed along, + As a tall Negro hastened nigh, + With fearless step and strong. + "What, ho, Toussaint!" A moment more, + His shadow crossed the lighted floor. + "Away!" he shouted; "fly with me, + The white man's bark is on the sea; + Her sails must catch the seaward wind, + For sudden vengeance sweeps behind. + Our brethren from their graves have spoken, + The yoke is spurned, the chain is broken; + On all the bills our fires are glowing, + Through all the vales red blood is flowing + No more the mocking White shall rest + His foot upon the Negro's breast; + No more, at morn or eve, shall drip + The warm blood from the driver's whip + Yet, though Toussaint has vengeance sworn + For all the wrongs his race have borne, + Though for each drop of Negro blood + The white man's veins shall pour a flood; + Not all alone the sense of ill + Around his heart is lingering still, + Nor deeper can the white man feel + The generous warmth of grateful zeal. + Friends of the Negro! fly with me, + The path is open to the sea: + Away, for life!" He spoke, and pressed + The young child to his manly breast, + As, headlong, through the cracking cane, + Down swept the dark insurgent train, + Drunken and grim, with shout and yell + Howled through the dark, like sounds from hell. + + Far out, in peace, the white man's sail + Swayed free before the sunrise gale. + Cloud-like that island hung afar, + Along the bright horizon's verge, + O'er which the curse of servile war + Rolled its red torrent, surge on surge; + And he, the Negro champion, where + In the fierce tumult struggled he? + Go trace him by the fiery glare + Of dwellings in the midnight air, + The yells of triumph and despair, + The streams that crimson to the sea! + + Sleep calmly in thy dungeon-tomb, + Beneath Besancon's alien sky, + Dark Haytien! for the time shall come, + Yea, even now is nigh, + When, everywhere, thy name shall be + Redeemed from color's infamy; + And men shall learn to speak of thee + As one of earth's great spirits, born + In servitude, and nursed in scorn, + Casting aside the weary weight + And fetters of its low estate, + In that strong majesty of soul + Which knows no color, tongue, or clime, + Which still hath spurned the base control + Of tyrants through all time! + Far other hands than mine may wreathe + The laurel round thy brow of death, + And speak thy praise, as one whose word + A thousand fiery spirits stirred, + Who crushed his foeman as a worm, + Whose step on human hearts fell firm: + + Be mine the better task to find + A tribute for thy lofty mind, + Amidst whose gloomy vengeance shone + Some milder virtues all thine own, + Some gleams of feeling pure and warm, + Like sunshine on a sky of storm, + Proofs that the Negro's heart retains + Some nobleness amid its chains,-- + That kindness to the wronged is never + Without its excellent reward, + Holy to human-kind and ever + Acceptable to God. + + 1833. + + + + +THE SLAVE-SHIPS. + + "That fatal, that perfidious bark, + Built I' the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark." + MILTON'S Lycidas. + +"The French ship Le Rodeur, with a crew of twenty-two men, and with one +hundred and sixty negro slaves, sailed from Bonny, in Africa, April, +1819. On approaching the line, a terrible malady broke out,--an +obstinate disease of the eyes,--contagious, and altogether beyond the +resources of medicine. It was aggravated by the scarcity of water among +the slaves (only half a wine-glass per day being allowed to an +individual), and by the extreme impurity of the air in which they +breathed. By the advice of the physician, they were brought upon deck +occasionally; but some of the poor wretches, locking themselves in each +other's arms, leaped overboard, in the hope, which so universally +prevails among them, of being swiftly transported to their own homes in +Africa. To check this, the captain ordered several who were stopped in +the attempt to be shot, or hanged, before their companions. The disease +extended to the crew; and one after another were smitten with it, until +only one remained unaffected. Yet even this dreadful condition did not +preclude calculation: to save the expense of supporting slaves rendered +unsalable, and to obtain grounds for a claim against the underwriters, +thirty-six of the negroes, having become blind, were thrown into the sea +and drowned!" Speech of M. Benjamin Constant, in the French Chamber of +Deputies, June 17, 1820. + +In the midst of their dreadful fears lest the solitary individual, whose +sight remained unaffected, should also be seized with the malady, a sail +was discovered. It was the Spanish slaver, Leon. The same disease had +been there; and, horrible to tell, all the crew had become blind! Unable +to assist each other, the vessels parted. The Spanish ship has never +since been heard of. The Rodeur reached Guadaloupe on the 21st of June; +the only man who had escaped the disease, and had thus been enabled to +steer the slaver into port, caught it in three days after its arrival.-- +Bibliotheque Ophthalmologique for November, 1819. + + "ALL ready?" cried the captain; + "Ay, ay!" the seamen said; + "Heave up the worthless lubbers,-- + The dying and the dead." + Up from the slave-ship's prison + Fierce, bearded heads were thrust: + "Now let the sharks look to it,-- + Toss up the dead ones first!" + + Corpse after corpse came up, + Death had been busy there; + Where every blow is mercy, + Why should the spoiler spare? + Corpse after corpse they cast + Sullenly from the ship, + Yet bloody with the traces + Of fetter-link and whip. + + Gloomily stood the captain, + With his arms upon his breast, + With his cold brow sternly knotted, + And his iron lip compressed. + + "Are all the dead dogs over?" + Growled through that matted lip; + "The blind ones are no better, + Let's lighten the good ship." + + Hark! from the ship's dark bosom, + The very sounds of hell! + The ringing clank of iron, + The maniac's short, sharp yell! + The hoarse, low curse, throat-stifled; + The starving infant's moan, + The horror of a breaking heart + Poured through a mother's groan. + + Up from that loathsome prison + The stricken blind ones cane + Below, had all been darkness, + Above, was still the same. + Yet the holy breath of heaven + Was sweetly breathing there, + And the heated brow of fever + Cooled in the soft sea air. + + "Overboard with them, shipmates!" + Cutlass and dirk were plied; + Fettered and blind, one after one, + Plunged down the vessel's side. + The sabre smote above, + Beneath, the lean shark lay, + Waiting with wide and bloody jaw + His quick and human prey. + + God of the earth! what cries + Rang upward unto thee? + Voices of agony and blood, + From ship-deck and from sea. + The last dull plunge was heard, + The last wave caught its stain, + And the unsated shark looked up + For human hearts in vain. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . + + Red glowed the western waters, + The setting sun was there, + Scattering alike on wave and cloud + His fiery mesh of hair. + Amidst a group in blindness, + A solitary eye + Gazed, from the burdened slaver's deck, + Into that burning sky. + + "A storm," spoke out the gazer, + "Is gathering and at hand; + Curse on 't, I'd give my other eye + For one firm rood of land." + And then he laughed, but only + His echoed laugh replied, + For the blinded and the suffering + Alone were at his side. + + Night settled on the waters, + And on a stormy heaven, + While fiercely on that lone ship's track + The thunder-gust was driven. + "A sail!--thank God, a sail!" + And as the helmsman spoke, + Up through the stormy murmur + A shout of gladness broke. + + + Down came the stranger vessel, + Unheeding on her way, + So near that on the slaver's deck + Fell off her driven spray. + "Ho! for the love of mercy, + We're perishing and blind!" + A wail of utter agony + Came back upon the wind. + + "Help us! for we are stricken + With blindness every one; + Ten days we've floated fearfully, + Unnoting star or sun. + Our ship 's the slaver Leon,-- + We've but a score on board; + Our slaves are all gone over,-- + Help, for the love of God!" + + On livid brows of agony + The broad red lightning shone; + But the roar of wind and thunder + Stifled the answering groan; + Wailed from the broken waters + A last despairing cry, + As, kindling in the stormy' light, + The stranger ship went by. + + . . . . . . . . . + + In the sunny Guadaloupe + A dark-hulled vessel lay, + With a crew who noted never + The nightfall or the day. + The blossom of the orange + Was white by every stream, + And tropic leaf, and flower, and bird + Were in the warns sunbeam. + + And the sky was bright as ever, + And the moonlight slept as well, + On the palm-trees by the hillside, + And the streamlet of the dell: + And the glances of the Creole + Were still as archly deep, + And her smiles as full as ever + Of passion and of sleep. + + But vain were bird and blossom, + The green earth and the sky, + And the smile of human faces, + To the slaver's darkened eye; + At the breaking of the morning, + At the star-lit evening time, + O'er a world of light and beauty + Fell the blackness of his crime. + + 1834. + + + + +EXPOSTULATION. + +Dr. Charles Follen, a German patriot, who had come to America for the +freedom which was denied him in his native land, allied himself with the +abolitionists, and at a convention of delegates from all the anti- +slavery organizations in New England, held at Boston in May, 1834, was +chairman of a committee to prepare an address to the people of New +England. Toward the close of the address occurred the passage which +suggested these lines. "The despotism which our fathers could not bear +in their native country is expiring, and the sword of justice in her +reformed hands has applied its exterminating edge to slavery. Shall the +United States--the free United States, which could not bear the bonds of +a king--cradle the bondage which a king is abolishing? Shall a Republic +be less free than a Monarchy? Shall we, in the vigor and buoyancy of our +manhood, be less energetic in righteousness than a kingdom in its age?" +--Dr. Follen's Address. + +"Genius of America!--Spirit of our free institutions!--where art thou? +How art thou fallen, O Lucifer! son of the morning,--how art thou fallen +from Heaven! Hell from beneath is moved for thee, to meet thee at thy +coming! The kings of the earth cry out to thee, Aha! Aha! Art thou +become like unto us?"--Speech of Samuel J. May. + + OUR fellow-countrymen in chains! + Slaves, in a land of light and law! + Slaves, crouching on the very plains + Where rolled the storm of Freedom's war! + A groan from Eutaw's haunted wood, + A. wail where Camden's martyrs fell, + By every shrine of patriot blood, + From Moultrie's wall and Jasper's well! + + By storied hill and hallowed grot, + By mossy wood and marshy glen, + Whence rang of old the rifle-shot, + And hurrying shout of Marion's men! + The groan of breaking hearts is there, + The falling lash, the fetter's clank! + Slaves, slaves are breathing in that air + Which old De Kalb and Sumter drank! + + What, ho! our countrymen in chains! + The whip on woman's shrinking flesh! + Our soil yet reddening with the stains + Caught from her scourging, warm and fresh! + What! mothers from their children riven! + What! God's own image bought and sold! + Americans to market driven, + And bartered as the brute for gold! + + Speak! shall their agony of prayer + Come thrilling to our hearts in vain? + To us whose fathers scorned to bear + The paltry menace of a chain; + To us, whose boast is loud and long + Of holy Liberty and Light; + Say, shall these writhing slaves of Wrong + Plead vainly for their plundered Right? + + What! shall we send, with lavish breath, + Our sympathies across the wave, + Where Manhood, on the field of death, + Strikes for his freedom or a grave? + Shall prayers go up, and hymns be sung + For Greece, the Moslem fetter spurning, + And millions hail with pen and tongue + Our light on all her altars burning? + + Shall Belgium feel, and gallant France, + By Vendome's pile and Schoenbrun's wall, + And Poland, gasping on her lance, + The impulse of our cheering call? + And shall the slave, beneath our eye, + Clank o'er our fields his hateful chain? + And toss his fettered arms on high, + And groan for Freedom's gift, in vain? + + Oh, say, shall Prussia's banner be + A refuge for the stricken slave? + And shall the Russian serf go free + By Baikal's lake and Neva's wave? + And shall the wintry-bosomed Dane + Relax the iron hand of pride, + And bid his bondmen cast the chain + From fettered soul and limb aside? + + Shall every flap of England's flag + Proclaim that all around are free, + From farthest Ind to each blue crag + That beetles o'er the Western Sea? + And shall we scoff at Europe's kings, + When Freedom's fire is dim with us, + And round our country's altar clings + The damning shade of Slavery's curse? + + Go, let us ask of Constantine + To loose his grasp on Poland's throat; + And beg the lord of Mahmoud's line + To spare the struggling Suliote; + Will not the scorching answer come + From turbaned Turk, and scornful Russ + "Go, loose your fettered slaves at home, + Then turn, and ask the like of us!" + + Just God! and shall we calmly rest, + The Christian's scorn, the heathen's mirth, + Content to live the lingering jest + And by-word of a mocking Earth? + Shall our own glorious land retain + That curse which Europe scorns to bear? + Shall our own brethren drag the chain + Which not even Russia's menials wear? + + Up, then, in Freedom's manly part, + From graybeard eld to fiery youth, + And on the nation's naked heart + Scatter the living coals of Truth! + Up! while ye slumber, deeper yet + The shadow of our fame is growing! + Up! while ye pause, our sun may set + In blood, around our altars flowing! + + Oh! rouse ye, ere the storm comes forth, + The gathered wrath of God and man, + Like that which wasted Egypt's earth, + When hail and fire above it ran. + Hear ye no warnings in the air? + Feel ye no earthquake underneath? + Up, up! why will ye slumber where + The sleeper only wakes in death? + + Rise now for Freedom! not in strife + Like that your sterner fathers saw, + The awful waste of human life, + The glory and the guilt of war:' + But break the chain, the yoke remove, + And smite to earth Oppression's rod, + With those mild arms of Truth and Love, + Made mighty through the living God! + + Down let the shrine of Moloch sink, + And leave no traces where it stood; + Nor longer let its idol drink + His daily cup of human blood; + But rear another altar there, + To Truth and Love and Mercy given, + And Freedom's gift, and Freedom's prayer, + Shall call an answer down from Heaven! + + 1834 + + + + +HYMN. + +Written for the meeting of the Anti-Slavery Society, at Chatham Street +Chapel, New York, held on the 4th of the seventh month, 1834. + + + O THOU, whose presence went before + Our fathers in their weary way, + As with Thy chosen moved of yore + The fire by night, the cloud by day! + + When from each temple of the free, + A nation's song ascends to Heaven, + Most Holy Father! unto Thee + May not our humble prayer be given? + + Thy children all, though hue and form + Are varied in Thine own good will, + With Thy own holy breathings warm, + And fashioned in Thine image still. + + We thank Thee, Father! hill and plain + Around us wave their fruits once more, + And clustered vine, and blossomed grain, + Are bending round each cottage door. + + And peace is here; and hope and love + Are round us as a mantle thrown, + And unto Thee, supreme above, + The knee of prayer is bowed alone. + + But oh, for those this day can bring, + As unto us, no joyful thrill; + For those who, under Freedom's wing, + Are bound in Slavery's fetters still: + + For those to whom Thy written word + Of light and love is never given; + For those whose ears have never heard + The promise and the hope of heaven! + + For broken heart, and clouded mind, + Whereon no human mercies fall; + Oh, be Thy gracious love inclined, + Who, as a Father, pitiest all! + + And grant, O Father! that the time + Of Earth's deliverance may be near, + When every land and tongue and clime + The message of Thy love shall hear; + + When, smitten as with fire from heaven, + The captive's chain shall sink in dust, + And to his fettered soul be given + The glorious freedom of the just, + + + + +THE YANKEE GIRL. + + SHE sings by her wheel at that low cottage-door, + Which the long evening shadow is stretching before, + With a music as sweet as the music which seems + Breathed softly and faint in the ear of our dreams! + + How brilliant and mirthful the light of her eye, + Like a star glancing out from the blue of the sky! + And lightly and freely her dark tresses play + O'er a brow and a bosom as lovely as they! + + Who comes in his pride to that low cottage-door, + The haughty and rich to the humble and poor? + 'T is the great Southern planter, the master who waves + His whip of dominion o'er hundreds of slaves. + + "Nay, Ellen, for shame! Let those Yankee fools spin, + Who would pass for our slaves with a change of their skin; + Let them toil as they will at the loom or the wheel, + Too stupid for shame, and too vulgar to feel! + + "But thou art too lovely and precious a gem + To be bound to their burdens and sullied by them; + For shame, Ellen, shame, cast thy bondage aside, + And away to the South, as my blessing and pride. + + "Oh, come where no winter thy footsteps can wrong, + But where flowers are blossoming all the year long, + Where the shade of the palm-tree is over my home, + And the lemon and orange are white in their bloom! + + "Oh, come to my home, where my servants shall all + Depart at thy bidding and come at thy call; + They shall heed thee as mistress with trembling and awe, + And each wish of thy heart shall be felt as a law." + + "Oh, could ye have seen her--that pride of our girls-- + Arise and cast back the dark wealth of her curls, + With a scorn in her eye which the gazer could feel, + And a glance like the sunshine that flashes on steel! + + "Go back, haughty Southron! thy treasures of gold + Are dim with the blood of the hearts thou halt sold; + Thy home may be lovely, but round it I hear + The crack of the whip and the footsteps of fear! + + "And the sky of thy South may be brighter than ours, + And greener thy landscapes, and fairer thy' flowers; + But dearer the blast round our mountains which raves, + Than the sweet summer zephyr which breathes over slaves! + + "Full low at thy bidding thy negroes may kneel, + With the iron of bondage on spirit and heel; + Yet know that the Yankee girl sooner would be + In fetters with them, than in freedom with thee!" + + 1835. + + + + +THE HUNTERS OF MEN. + +These lines were written when the orators of the American Colonization +Society were demanding that the free blacks should be sent to Africa, +and opposing Emancipation unless expatriation followed. See the report +of the proceedings of the society at its annual meeting in 1834. + + + HAVE ye heard of our hunting, o'er mountain and glen, + Through cane-brake and forest,--the hunting of men? + The lords of our land to this hunting have gone, + As the fox-hunter follows the sound of the horn; + Hark! the cheer and the hallo! the crack of the whip, + And the yell of the hound as he fastens his grip! + All blithe are our hunters, and noble their match, + Though hundreds are caught, there are millions to catch. + So speed to their hunting, o'er mountain and glen, + Through cane-brake and forest,--the hunting of men! + + Gay luck to our hunters! how nobly they ride + In the glow of their zeal, and the strength of their pride! + The priest with his cassock flung back on the wind, + Just screening the politic statesman behind; + The saint and the sinner, with cursing and prayer, + The drunk and the sober, ride merrily there. + And woman, kind woman, wife, widow, and maid, + For the good of the hunted, is lending her aid + Her foot's in the stirrup, her hand on the rein, + How blithely she rides to the hunting of men! + + Oh, goodly and grand is our hunting to see, + In this "land of the brave and this home of the free." + Priest, warrior, and statesman, from Georgia to Maine, + All mounting the saddle, all grasping the rein; + Right merrily hunting the black man, whose sin + Is the curl of his hair and the hue of his skin! + Woe, now, to the hunted who turns him at bay + Will our hunters be turned from their purpose and prey? + Will their hearts fail within them? their nerves tremble, when + All roughly they ride to the hunting of men? + + Ho! alms for our hunters! all weary and faint, + Wax the curse of the sinner and prayer of the saint. + The horn is wound faintly, the echoes are still, + Over cane-brake and river, and forest and hill. + Haste, alms for our hunters! the hunted once more + Have turned from their flight with their backs to the shore + What right have they here in the home of the white, + Shadowed o'er by our banner of Freedom and Right? + Ho! alms for the hunters! or never again + Will they ride in their pomp to the hunting of men! + + Alms, alms for our hunters! why will ye delay, + When their pride and their glory are melting away? + The parson has turned; for, on charge of his own, + Who goeth a warfare, or hunting, alone? + The politic statesman looks back with a sigh, + There is doubt in his heart, there is fear in his eye. + Oh, haste, lest that doubting and fear shall prevail, + And the head of his steed take the place of the tail. + Oh, haste, ere he leave us! for who will ride then, + For pleasure or gain, to the hunting of men? + + 1835. + + + + +STANZAS FOR THE TIMES. + +The "Times" referred to were those evil times of the pro-slavery meeting +in Faneuil Hall, August 21, 1835, in which a demand was made for the +suppression of free speech, lest it should endanger the foundation of +commercial society. + + Is this the land our fathers loved, + The freedom which they toiled to win? + Is this the soil whereon they moved? + Are these the graves they slumber in? + Are we the sons by whom are borne + The mantles which the dead have worn? + + And shall we crouch above these graves, + With craven soul and fettered lip? + Yoke in with marked and branded slaves, + And tremble at the driver's whip? + Bend to the earth our pliant knees, + And speak but as our masters please. + + Shall outraged Nature cease to feel? + Shall Mercy's tears no longer flow? + Shall ruffian threats of cord and steel, + The dungeon's gloom, the assassin's blow, + Turn back the spirit roused to save + The Truth, our Country, and the Slave? + + Of human skulls that shrine was made, + Round which the priests of Mexico + Before their loathsome idol prayed; + Is Freedom's altar fashioned so? + And must we yield to Freedom's God, + As offering meet, the negro's blood? + + Shall tongues be mute, when deeds are wrought + Which well might shame extremest hell? + Shall freemen lock the indignant thought? + Shall Pity's bosom cease to swell? + Shall Honor bleed?--shall Truth succumb? + Shall pen, and press, and soul be dumb? + + No; by each spot of haunted ground, + Where Freedom weeps her children's fall; + By Plymouth's rock, and Bunker's mound; + By Griswold's stained and shattered wall; + By Warren's ghost, by Langdon's shade; + By all the memories of our dead. + + By their enlarging souls, which burst + The bands and fetters round them set; + By the free Pilgrim spirit nursed + Within our inmost bosoms, yet, + By all above, around, below, + Be ours the indignant answer,--No! + + No; guided by our country's laws, + For truth, and right, and suffering man, + Be ours to strive in Freedom's cause, + As Christians may, as freemen can! + Still pouring on unwilling ears + That truth oppression only fears. + + What! shall we guard our neighbor still, + While woman shrieks beneath his rod, + And while he tramples down at will + The image of a common God? + Shall watch and ward be round him set, + Of Northern nerve and bayonet? + + And shall we know and share with him + The danger and the growing shame? + And see our Freedom's light grow dim, + Which should have filled the world with flame? + And, writhing, feel, where'er we turn, + A world's reproach around us burn? + + Is 't not enough that this is borne? + And asks our haughty neighbor more? + Must fetters which his slaves have worn + Clank round the Yankee farmer's door? + Must he be told, beside his plough, + What he must speak, and when, and how? + + Must he be told his freedom stands + On Slavery's dark foundations strong; + On breaking hearts and fettered hands, + On robbery, and crime, and wrong? + That all his fathers taught is vain,-- + That Freedom's emblem is the chain? + + Its life, its soul, from slavery drawn! + False, foul, profane! Go, teach as well + Of holy Truth from Falsehood born! + Of Heaven refreshed by airs from Hell! + Of Virtue in the arms of Vice! + Of Demons planting Paradise! + + Rail on, then, brethren of the South, + Ye shall not hear the truth the less; + No seal is on the Yankee's mouth, + No fetter on the Yankee's press! + From our Green Mountains to the sea, + One voice shall thunder, We are free! + + + + +CLERICAL OPPRESSORS. + +In the report of the celebrated pro-slavery meeting in Charleston, S.C., +on the 4th of the ninth month, 1835, published in the Courier of that +city, it is stated: "The clergy of all denominations attended in a body, +lending their sanction to the proceedings, and adding by their presence +to the impressive character of the scene!" + + + JUST God! and these are they + Who minister at thine altar, God of Right! + Men who their hands with prayer and blessing lay + On Israel's Ark of light! + + What! preach, and kidnap men? + Give thanks, and rob thy own afflicted poor? + Talk of thy glorious liberty, and then + Bolt hard the captive's door? + + What! servants of thy own + Merciful Son, who came to seek and save + The homeless and the outcast, fettering down + The tasked and plundered slave! + + Pilate and Herod, friends! + Chief priests and rulers, as of old, combine! + Just God and holy! is that church, which lends + Strength to the spoiler, thine? + + Paid hypocrites, who turn + Judgment aside, and rob the Holy Book + Of those high words of truth which search and burn + In warning and rebuke; + + Feed fat, ye locusts, feed! + And, in your tasselled pulpits, thank the Lord + That, from the toiling bondman's utter need, + Ye pile your own full board. + + How long, O Lord! how long + Shall such a priesthood barter truth away, + And in Thy name, for robbery and wrong + At Thy own altars pray? + + Is not Thy hand stretched forth + Visibly in the heavens, to awe and smite? + Shall not the living God of all the earth, + And heaven above, do right? + + Woe, then, to all who grind + Their brethren of a common Father down! + To all who plunder from the immortal mind + Its bright and glorious crown! + + Woe to the priesthood! woe + To those whose hire is with the price of blood; + Perverting, darkening, changing, as they go, + The searching truths of God! + + Their glory and their might + Shall perish; and their very names shall be + Vile before all the people, in the light + Of a world's liberty. + + Oh, speed the moment on + When Wrong shall cease, and Liberty and Love + And Truth and Right throughout the earth be known + As in their home above. + + 1836. + + + + +A SUMMONS + +Written on the adoption of Pinckney's Resolutions in the House of +Representatives, and the passage of Calhoun's "Bill for excluding Papers +written or printed, touching the subject of Slavery, from the U. S. +Post-office," in the Senate of the United States. Mr. Pinckney's +resolutions were in brief that Congress had no authority to interfere in +any way with slavery in the States; that it ought not to interfere with +it in the District of Columbia, and that all resolutions to that end +should be laid on the table without printing. Mr. Calhoun's bill made it +a penal offence for post-masters in any State, District, or Territory +"knowingly to deliver, to any person whatever, any pamphlet, newspaper, +handbill, or other printed paper or pictorial representation, touching +the subject of slavery, where, by the laws of the said State, District, +or Territory, their circulation was prohibited." + + MEN of the North-land! where's the manly spirit + Of the true-hearted and the unshackled gone? + Sons of old freemen, do we but inherit + Their names alone? + + Is the old Pilgrim spirit quenched within us, + Stoops the strong manhood of our souls so low, + That Mammon's lure or Party's wile can win us + To silence now? + + Now, when our land to ruin's brink is verging, + In God's name, let us speak while there is time! + Now, when the padlocks for our lips are forging, + Silence is crime! + + What! shall we henceforth humbly ask as favors + Rights all our own? In madness shall we barter, + For treacherous peace, the freedom Nature gave us, + God and our charter? + + Here shall the statesman forge his human fetters, + Here the false jurist human rights deny, + And in the church, their proud and skilled abettors + Make truth a lie? + + Torture the pages of the hallowed Bible, + To sanction crime, and robbery, and blood? + And, in Oppression's hateful service, libel + Both man and God? + + Shall our New England stand erect no longer, + But stoop in chains upon her downward way, + Thicker to gather on her limbs and stronger + Day after day? + + Oh no; methinks from all her wild, green mountains; + From valleys where her slumbering fathers lie; + From her blue rivers and her welling fountains, + And clear, cold sky; + + From her rough coast, and isles, which hungry Ocean + Gnaws with his surges; from the fisher's skiff, + With white sail swaying to the billows' motion + Round rock and cliff; + + From the free fireside of her untought farmer; + From her free laborer at his loom and wheel; + From the brown smith-shop, where, beneath the hammer, + Rings the red steel; + + From each and all, if God hath not forsaken + Our land, and left us to an evil choice, + Loud as the summer thunderbolt shall waken + A People's voice. + + Startling and stern! the Northern winds shall bear it + Over Potomac's to St. Mary's wave; + And buried Freedom shall awake to hear it + Within her grave. + + Oh, let that voice go forth! The bondman sighing + By Santee's wave, in Mississippi's cane, + Shall feel the hope, within his bosom dying, + Revive again. + + Let it go forth! The millions who are gazing + Sadly upon us from afar shall smile, + And unto God devout thanksgiving raising + Bless us the while. + + Oh for your ancient freedom, pure and holy, + For the deliverance of a groaning earth, + For the wronged captive, bleeding, crushed, and lowly, + Let it go forth! + + Sons of the best of fathers! will ye falter + With all they left ye perilled and at stake? + Ho! once again on Freedom's holy altar + The fire awake. + + Prayer-strenthened for the trial, come together, + Put on the harness for the moral fight, + And, with the blessing of your Heavenly Father, + Maintain the right + + 1836. + + + + +TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS SHIPLEY. + +Thomas Shipley of Philadelphia was a lifelong Christian philanthropist, +and advocate of emancipation. At his funeral thousands of colored people +came to take their last look at their friend and protector. He died +September 17, 1836. + + GONE to thy Heavenly Father's rest! + The flowers of Eden round thee blowing, + And on thine ear the murmurs blest + Of Siloa's waters softly flowing! + + Beneath that Tree of Life which gives + To all the earth its healing leaves + In the white robe of angels clad, + And wandering by that sacred river, + Whose streams of holiness make glad + The city of our God forever! + + Gentlest of spirits! not for thee + Our tears are shed, our sighs are given; + Why mourn to know thou art a free + Partaker of the joys of heaven? + Finished thy work, and kept thy faith + In Christian firmness unto death; + And beautiful as sky and earth, + When autumn's sun is downward going, + The blessed memory of thy worth + Around thy place of slumber glowing! + + But woe for us! who linger still + With feebler strength and hearts less lowly, + And minds less steadfast to the will + Of Him whose every work is holy. + For not like thine, is crucified + The spirit of our human pride + And at the bondman's tale of woe, + And for the outcast and forsaken, + Not warm like thine, but cold and slow, + Our weaker sympathies awaken. + + Darkly upon our struggling way + The storm of human hate is sweeping; + Hunted and branded, and a prey, + Our watch amidst the darkness keeping, + Oh, for that hidden strength which can + Nerve unto death the inner man + Oh, for thy spirit, tried and true, + And constant in the hour of trial, + Prepared to suffer, or to do, + In meekness and in self-denial. + + Oh, for that spirit, meek and mild, + Derided, spurned, yet uncomplaining; + By man deserted and reviled, + Yet faithful to its trust remaining. + Still prompt and resolute to save + From scourge and chain the hunted slave; + Unwavering in the Truth's defence, + Even where the fires of Hate were burning, + The unquailing eye of innocence + Alone upon the oppressor turning! + + O loved of thousands! to thy grave, + Sorrowing of heart, thy brethren bore thee. + The poor man and the rescued slave + Wept as the broken earth closed o'er thee; + And grateful tears, like summer rain, + Quickened its dying grass again! + And there, as to some pilgrim-shrine, + Shall cone the outcast and the lowly, + Of gentle deeds and words of thine + Recalling memories sweet and holy! + + Oh, for the death the righteous die! + An end, like autumn's day declining, + On human hearts, as on the sky, + With holier, tenderer beauty shining; + As to the parting soul were given + The radiance of an opening heaven! + As if that pure and blessed light, + From off the Eternal altar flowing, + Were bathing, in its upward flight, + The spirit to its worship going! + + 1836. + + + + +THE MORAL WARFARE. + + WHEN Freedom, on her natal day, + Within her war-rocked cradle lay, + An iron race around her stood, + Baptized her infant brow in blood; + And, through the storm which round her swept, + Their constant ward and watching kept. + + Then, where our quiet herds repose, + The roar of baleful battle rose, + And brethren of a common tongue + To mortal strife as tigers sprung, + And every gift on Freedom's shrine + Was man for beast, and blood for wine! + + Our fathers to their graves have gone; + Their strife is past, their triumph won; + But sterner trials wait the race + Which rises in their honored place; + A moral warfare with the crime + And folly of an evil time. + + So let it be. In God's own might + We gird us for the coming fight, + And, strong in Him whose cause is ours + In conflict with unholy powers, + We grasp the weapons He has given,-- + The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven. + + 1836. + + + + +RITNER. + +Written on reading the Message of Governor Ritner, of Pennsylvania, +1836. The fact redounds to the credit and serves to perpetuate the +memory of the independent farmer and high-souled statesman, that he +alone of all the Governors of the Union in 1836 met the insulting +demands and menaces of the South in a manner becoming a freeman and +hater of Slavery, in his message to the Legislature of Pennsylvania. + + THANK God for the token! one lip is still free, + One spirit untrammelled, unbending one knee! + Like the oak of the mountain, deep-rooted and firm, + Erect, when the multitude bends to the storm; + When traitors to Freedom, and Honor, and God, + Are bowed at an Idol polluted with blood; + When the recreant North has forgotten her trust, + And the lip of her honor is low in the dust,-- + Thank God, that one arm from the shackle has broken! + Thank God, that one man as a freeman has spoken! + + O'er thy crags, Alleghany, a blast has been blown! + Down thy tide, Susquehanna, the murmur has gone! + To the land of the South, of the charter and chain, + Of Liberty sweetened with Slavery's pain; + Where the cant of Democracy dwells on the lips + Of the forgers of fetters, and wielders of whips! + Where "chivalric" honor means really no more + Than scourging of women, and robbing the poor! + Where the Moloch of Slavery sitteth on high, + And the words which he utters, are--Worship, or die! + + Right onward, oh, speed it! Wherever the blood + Of the wronged and the guiltless is crying to God; + Wherever a slave in his fetters is pining; + Wherever the lash of the driver is twining; + Wherever from kindred, torn rudely apart, + Comes the sorrowful wail of the broken of heart; + Wherever the shackles of tyranny bind, + In silence and darkness, the God-given mind; + There, God speed it onward! its truth will be felt, + The bonds shall be loosened, the iron shall melt. + + And oh, will the land where the free soul of Penn + Still lingers and breathes over mountain and glen; + Will the land where a Benezet's spirit went forth + To the peeled and the meted, and outcast of Earth; + Where the words of the Charter of Liberty first + From the soul of the sage and the patriot burst; + Where first for the wronged and the weak of their kind, + The Christian and statesman their efforts combined; + Will that land of the free and the good wear a chain? + Will the call to the rescue of Freedom be vain? + + No, Ritner! her "Friends" at thy warning shall stand + Erect for the truth, like their ancestral band; + Forgetting the feuds and the strife of past time, + Counting coldness injustice, and silence a crime; + Turning back front the cavil of creeds, to unite + Once again for the poor in defence of the Right; + Breasting calmly, but firmly, the full tide of Wrong, + Overwhelmed, but not borne on its surges along; + Unappalled by the danger, the shame, and the pain, + And counting each trial for Truth as their gain! + + And that bold-hearted yeomanry, honest and true, + Who, haters of fraud, give to labor its due; + Whose fathers, of old, sang in concert with thine, + On the banks of Swetara, the songs of the Rhine,-- + The German-born pilgrims, who first dared to brave + The scorn of the proud in the cause of the slave; + Will the sons of such men yield the lords of the South + One brow for the brand, for the padlock one mouth? + They cater to tyrants? They rivet the chain, + Which their fathers smote off, on the negro again? + + No, never! one voice, like the sound in the cloud, + When the roar of the storm waxes loud and more loud, + Wherever the foot of the freeman hath pressed + From the Delaware's marge to the Lake of the West, + On the South-going breezes shall deepen and grow + Till the land it sweeps over shall tremble below! + The voice of a people, uprisen, awake, + Pennsylvania's watchword, with Freedom at stake, + Thrilling up from each valley, flung down from each height, + "Our Country and Liberty! God for the Right!" + + + + +THE PASTORAL LETTER + +The General Association of Congregational ministers in Massachusetts met +at Brookfield, June 27, 1837, and issued a Pastoral Letter to the +churches under its care. The immediate occasion of it was the profound +sensation produced by the recent public lecture in Massachusetts by +Angelina and Sarah Grimke, two noble women from South Carolina, who bore +their testimony against slavery. The Letter demanded that "the perplexed +and agitating subjects which are now common amongst us... should not be +forced upon any church as matters for debate, at the hazard of +alienation and division," and called attention to the dangers now +seeming "to threaten the female character with widespread and permanent +injury." + + So, this is all,--the utmost reach + Of priestly power the mind to fetter! + When laymen think, when women preach, + A war of words, a "Pastoral Letter!" + Now, shame upon ye, parish Popes! + Was it thus with those, your predecessors, + Who sealed with racks, and fire, and ropes + Their loving-kindness to transgressors? + + A "Pastoral Letter," grave and dull; + Alas! in hoof and horns and features, + How different is your Brookfield bull + From him who bellows from St. Peter's + Your pastoral rights and powers from harm, + Think ye, can words alone preserve them? + Your wiser fathers taught the arm + And sword of temporal power to serve them. + + Oh, glorious days, when Church and State + Were wedded by your spiritual fathers! + And on submissive shoulders sat + Your Wilsons and your Cotton Mathers. + No vile "itinerant" then could mar + The beauty of your tranquil Zion, + But at his peril of the scar + Of hangman's whip and branding-iron. + + Then, wholesome laws relieved the Church + Of heretic and mischief-maker, + And priest and bailiff joined in search, + By turns, of Papist, witch, and Quaker + The stocks were at each church's door, + The gallows stood on Boston Common, + A Papist's ears the pillory bore,-- + The gallows-rope, a Quaker woman! + + Your fathers dealt not as ye deal + With "non-professing" frantic teachers; + They bored the tongue with red-hot steel, + And flayed the backs of "female preachers." + Old Hampton, had her fields a tongue, + And Salem's streets could tell their story, + Of fainting woman dragged along, + Gashed by the whip accursed and gory! + + And will ye ask me, why this taunt + Of memories sacred from the scorner? + And why with reckless hand I plant + A nettle on the graves ye honor? + Not to reproach New England's dead + This record from the past I summon, + Of manhood to the scaffold led, + And suffering and heroic woman. + + No, for yourselves alone, I turn + The pages of intolerance over, + That, in their spirit, dark and stern, + Ye haply may your own discover! + For, if ye claim the "pastoral right" + To silence Freedom's voice of warning, + And from your precincts shut the light + Of Freedom's day around ye dawning; + + If when an earthquake voice of power + And signs in earth and heaven are showing + That forth, in its appointed hour, + The Spirit of the Lord is going + And, with that Spirit, Freedom's light + On kindred, tongue, and people breaking, + Whose slumbering millions, at the sight, + In glory and in strength are waking! + + When for the sighing of the poor, + And for the needy, God bath risen, + And chains are breaking, and a door + Is opening for the souls in prison! + If then ye would, with puny hands, + Arrest the very work of Heaven, + And bind anew the evil bands + Which God's right arm of power hath riven; + + What marvel that, in many a mind, + Those darker deeds of bigot madness + Are closely with your own combined, + Yet "less in anger than in sadness"? + What marvel, if the people learn + To claim the right of free opinion? + What marvel, if at times they spurn + The ancient yoke of your dominion? + + A glorious remnant linger yet, + Whose lips are wet at Freedom's fountains, + The coming of whose welcome feet + Is beautiful upon our mountains! + Men, who the gospel tidings bring + Of Liberty and Love forever, + Whose joy is an abiding spring, + Whose peace is as a gentle river! + + But ye, who scorn the thrilling tale + Of Carolina's high-souled daughters, + Which echoes here the mournful wail + Of sorrow from Edisto's waters, + Close while ye may the public ear, + With malice vex, with slander wound them, + The pure and good shall throng to hear, + And tried and manly hearts surround them. + + Oh, ever may the power which led + Their way to such a fiery trial, + And strengthened womanhood to tread + The wine-press of such self-denial, + Be round them in an evil land, + With wisdom and with strength from Heaven, + With Miriam's voice, and Judith's hand, + And Deborah's song, for triumph given! + + And what are ye who strive with God + Against the ark of His salvation, + Moved by the breath of prayer abroad, + With blessings for a dying nation? + What, but the stubble and the hay + To perish, even as flax consuming, + With all that bars His glorious way, + Before the brightness of His coming? + + And thou, sad Angel, who so long + Hast waited for the glorious token, + That Earth from all her bonds of wrong + To liberty and light has broken,-- + + Angel of Freedom! soon to thee + The sounding trumpet shall be given, + And over Earth's full jubilee + Shall deeper joy be felt in Heaven! + + 1837. + + + + +HYMN + + As children of Thy gracious care, + We veil the eye, we bend the knee, + With broken words of praise and prayer, + Father and God, we come to Thee. + + For Thou hast heard, O God of Right, + The sighing of the island slave; + And stretched for him the arm of might, + Not shortened that it could not save. + The laborer sits beneath his vine, + The shackled soul and hand are free; + Thanksgiving! for the work is Thine! + Praise! for the blessing is of Thee! + + And oh, we feel Thy presence here, + Thy awful arm in judgment bare! + Thine eye bath seen the bondman's tear; + Thine ear hath heard the bondman's prayer. + Praise! for the pride of man is low, + The counsels of the wise are naught, + The fountains of repentance flow; + What hath our God in mercy wrought? + + + + +HYMN + +Written for the celebration of the third anniversary of British +emancipation at the Broadway Tabernacle, New York, first of August, +1837. + + + O HOLY FATHER! just and true + Are all Thy works and words and ways, + And unto Thee alone are due + Thanksgiving and eternal praise! + + As children of Thy gracious care, + We veil the eye, we bend the knee, + With broken words of praise and prayer, + Father and God, we come to Thee. + + For Thou hast heard, O God of Right, + The sighing of the island slave; + And stretched for him the arm of might, + Not shortened that it could not save. + The laborer sits beneath his vine, + The shackled soul and hand are free; + Thanksgiving! for the work is Thine! + Praise! for the blessing is of Thee! + + And oh, we feel Thy presence here, + Thy awful arm in judgment bare! + Thine eye hath seen the bondman's tear; + Thine ear hath heard the bondman's prayer. + Praise! for the pride of man is low, + The counsels of the wise are naught, + The fountains of repentance flow; + What hath our God in mercy wrought? + + Speed on Thy work, Lord God of Hosts + And when the bondman's chain is riven, + And swells from all our guilty coasts + The anthem of the free to Heaven, + Oh, not to those whom Thou hast led, + As with Thy cloud and fire before, + But unto Thee, in fear and dread, + Be praise and glory evermore. + + + + +THE FAREWELL OF A VIRGINIA SLAVE MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTERS SOLD + +INTO SOUTHERN BONDAGE. + + GONE, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone. + Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings, + Where the noisome insect stings, + Where the fever demon strews + Poison with the falling dews, + Where the sickly sunbeams glare + Through the hot and misty air; + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, + From Virginia's hills and waters; + Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone. + There no mother's eye is near them, + There no mother's ear can hear them; + Never, when the torturing lash + Seams their back with many a gash, + Shall a mother's kindness bless them, + Or a mother's arms caress them. + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, + From Virginia's hills and waters; + Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone. + Oh, when weary, sad, and slow, + From the fields at night they go, + Faint with toil, and racked with pain, + To their cheerless homes again, + There no brother's voice shall greet them; + There no father's welcome meet them. + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, + From Virginia's hills and waters; + Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone. + From the tree whose shadow lay + On their childhood's place of play; + From the cool spring where they drank; + Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank; + From the solemn house of prayer, + And the holy counsels there; + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, + From Virginia's hills and waters; + Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone; + Toiling through the weary day, + And at night the spoiler's prey. + Oh, that they had earlier died, + Sleeping calmly, side by side, + Where the tyrant's power is o'er, + And the fetter galls no more + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, + From Virginia's hills and waters; + Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone. + By the holy love He beareth; + By the bruised reed He spareth; + Oh, may He, to whom alone + All their cruel wrongs are known, + Still their hope and refuge prove, + With a more than mother's love. + Gone, gone,--sold and gone, + To the rice-swamp dank and lone, + From Virginia's hills and waters; + Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + + 1838. + + + + +PENNSYLVANIA HALL. + +Read at the dedication of Pennsylvania Hall, Philadelphia, May 15, 1838. +The building was erected by an association of gentlemen, irrespective of +sect or party, "that the citizens of Philadelphia should possess a room +wherein the principles of Liberty, and Equality of Civil Rights, could +be freely discussed, and the evils of slavery fearlessly portrayed." On +the evening of the 17th it was burned by a mob, destroying the office of +the Pennsylvania Freeman, of which I was editor, and with it my books +and papers. + + + NOT with the splendors of the days of old, + The spoil of nations, and barbaric gold; + No weapons wrested from the fields of blood, + Where dark and stern the unyielding Roman stood, + And the proud eagles of his cohorts saw + A world, war-wasted, crouching to his law; + + Nor blazoned car, nor banners floating gay, + Like those which swept along the Appian Way, + When, to the welcome of imperial Rome, + The victor warrior came in triumph home, + And trumpet peal, and shoutings wild and high, + Stirred the blue quiet of the Italian sky; + But calm and grateful, prayerful and sincere, + As Christian freemen only, gathering here, + We dedicate our fair and lofty Hall, + Pillar and arch, entablature and wall, + As Virtue's shrine, as Liberty's abode, + Sacred to Freedom, and to Freedom's God + Far statelier Halls, 'neath brighter skies than these, + Stood darkly mirrored in the AEgean seas, + Pillar and shrine, and life-like statues seen, + Graceful and pure, the marble shafts between; + Where glorious Athens from her rocky hill + Saw Art and Beauty subject to her will; + And the chaste temple, and the classic grove, + The hall of sages, and the bowers of love, + Arch, fane, and column, graced the shores, and gave + Their shadows to the blue Saronic wave; + And statelier rose, on Tiber's winding side, + The Pantheon's dome, the Coliseum's pride, + The Capitol, whose arches backward flung + The deep, clear cadence of the Roman tongue, + Whence stern decrees, like words of fate, went forth + To the awed nations of a conquered earth, + Where the proud Caesars in their glory came, + And Brutus lightened from his lips of flame! + Yet in the porches of Athena's halls, + And in the shadow of her stately walls, + Lurked the sad bondman, and his tears of woe + Wet the cold marble with unheeded flow; + And fetters clanked beneath the silver dome + Of the proud Pantheon of imperious Rome. + Oh, not for hint, the chained and stricken slave, + By Tiber's shore, or blue AEgina's wave, + In the thronged forum, or the sages' seat, + The bold lip pleaded, and the warm heart beat; + No soul of sorrow melted at his pain, + No tear of pity rusted on his chain! + + But this fair Hall to Truth and Freedom given, + Pledged to the Right before all Earth and Heaven, + A free arena for the strife of mind, + To caste, or sect, or color unconfined, + Shall thrill with echoes such as ne'er of old + From Roman hall or Grecian temple rolled; + Thoughts shall find utterance such as never yet + The Propylea or the Forum met. + Beneath its roof no gladiator's strife + Shall win applauses with the waste of life; + No lordly lictor urge the barbarous game, + No wanton Lais glory in her shame. + But here the tear of sympathy shall flow, + As the ear listens to the tale of woe; + Here in stern judgment of the oppressor's wrong + Shall strong rebukings thrill on Freedom's tongue, + No partial justice hold th' unequal scale, + No pride of caste a brother's rights assail, + No tyrant's mandates echo from this wall, + Holy to Freedom and the Rights of All! + But a fair field, where mind may close with mind, + Free as the sunshine and the chainless wind; + Where the high trust is fixed on Truth alone, + And bonds and fetters from the soul are thrown; + Where wealth, and rank, and worldly pomp, and might, + Yield to the presence of the True and Right. + + And fitting is it that this Hall should stand + Where Pennsylvania's Founder led his band, + From thy blue waters, Delaware!--to press + The virgin verdure of the wilderness. + Here, where all Europe with amazement saw + The soul's high freedom trammelled by no law; + Here, where the fierce and warlike forest-men + Gathered, in peace, around the home of Penn, + Awed by the weapons Love alone had given + Drawn from the holy armory of Heaven; + Where Nature's voice against the bondman's wrong + First found an earnest and indignant tongue; + Where Lay's bold message to the proud was borne; + And Keith's rebuke, and Franklin's manly scorn! + Fitting it is that here, where Freedom first + From her fair feet shook off the Old World's dust, + Spread her white pinions to our Western blast, + And her free tresses to our sunshine cast, + One Hall should rise redeemed from Slavery's ban, + One Temple sacred to the Rights of Man! + + Oh! if the spirits of the parted come, + Visiting angels, to their olden home + If the dead fathers of the land look forth + From their fair dwellings, to the things of earth, + Is it a dream, that with their eyes of love, + They gaze now on us from the bowers above? + Lay's ardent soul, and Benezet the mild, + Steadfast in faith, yet gentle as a child, + Meek-hearted Woolman, and that brother-band, + The sorrowing exiles from their "Father land," + Leaving their homes in Krieshiem's bowers of vine, + And the blue beauty of their glorious Rhine, + To seek amidst our solemn depths of wood + Freedom from man, and holy peace with God; + Who first of all their testimonial gave + Against the oppressor, for the outcast slave, + Is it a dream that such as these look down, + And with their blessing our rejoicings crown? + Let us rejoice, that while the pulpit's door + Is barred against the pleaders for the poor; + While the Church, wrangling upon points of faith, + Forgets her bondmen suffering unto death; + While crafty Traffic and the lust of Gain + Unite to forge Oppression's triple chain, + One door is open, and one Temple free, + As a resting-place for hunted Liberty! + Where men may speak, unshackled and unawed, + High words of Truth, for Freedom and for God. + And when that truth its perfect work hath done, + And rich with blessings o'er our land hath gone; + When not a slave beneath his yoke shall pine, + From broad Potomac to the far Sabine + When unto angel lips at last is given + The silver trump of Jubilee in Heaven; + And from Virginia's plains, Kentucky's shades, + And through the dim Floridian everglades, + Rises, to meet that angel-trumpet's sound, + The voice of millions from their chains unbound; + Then, though this Hall be crumbling in decay, + Its strong walls blending with the common clay, + Yet, round the ruins of its strength shall stand + The best and noblest of a ransomed land-- + Pilgrims, like these who throng around the shrine + Of Mecca, or of holy Palestine! + A prouder glory shall that ruin own + Than that which lingers round the Parthenon. + Here shall the child of after years be taught + The works of Freedom which his fathers wrought; + Told of the trials of the present hour, + Our weary strife with prejudice and power; + How the high errand quickened woman's soul, + And touched her lip as with a living coal; + How Freedom's martyrs kept their lofty faith + True and unwavering, unto bonds and death; + The pencil's art shall sketch the ruined Hall, + The Muses' garland crown its aged wall, + And History's pen for after times record + Its consecration unto Freedom's God! + + + + +THE NEW YEAR. + +Addressed to the Patrons of the Pennsylvania Freeman. + + THE wave is breaking on the shore, + The echo fading from the chime + Again the shadow moveth o'er + The dial-plate of time! + + O seer-seen Angel! waiting now + With weary feet on sea and shore, + Impatient for the last dread vow + That time shall be no more! + + Once more across thy sleepless eye + The semblance of a smile has passed: + The year departing leaves more nigh + Time's fearfullest and last. + + Oh, in that dying year hath been + The sum of all since time began; + The birth and death, the joy and pain, + Of Nature and of Man. + + Spring, with her change of sun and shower, + And streams released from Winter's chain, + And bursting bud, and opening flower, + And greenly growing grain; + + And Summer's shade, and sunshine warm, + And rainbows o'er her hill-tops bowed, + And voices in her rising storm; + God speaking from His cloud! + + And Autumn's fruits and clustering sheaves, + And soft, warm days of golden light, + The glory of her forest leaves, + And harvest-moon at night; + + And Winter with her leafless grove, + And prisoned stream, and drifting snow, + The brilliance of her heaven above + And of her earth below; + + And man, in whom an angel's mind + With earth's low instincts finds abode, + The highest of the links which bind + Brute nature to her God; + + His infant eye bath seen the light, + His childhood's merriest laughter rung, + And active sports to manlier might + The nerves of boyhood strung! + + And quiet love, and passion's fires, + Have soothed or burned in manhood's breast, + And lofty aims and low desires + By turns disturbed his rest. + + The wailing of the newly-born + Has mingled with the funeral knell; + And o'er the dying's ear has gone + The merry marriage-bell. + + And Wealth has filled his halls with mirth, + While Want, in many a humble shed, + Toiled, shivering by her cheerless hearth, + The live-long night for bread. + + And worse than all, the human slave, + The sport of lust, and pride, and scorn! + Plucked off the crown his Maker gave, + His regal manhood gone! + + Oh, still, my country! o'er thy plains, + Blackened with slavery's blight and ban, + That human chattel drags his chains, + An uncreated man! + + And still, where'er to sun and breeze, + My country, is thy flag unrolled, + With scorn, the gazing stranger sees + A stain on every fold. + + Oh, tear the gorgeous emblem down! + It gathers scorn from every eye, + And despots smile and good men frown + Whene'er it passes by. + + Shame! shame! its starry splendors glow + Above the slaver's loathsome jail; + Its folds are ruffling even now + His crimson flag of sale. + + Still round our country's proudest hall + The trade in human flesh is driven, + And at each careless hammer-fall + A human heart is riven. + + And this, too, sanctioned by the men + Vested with power to shield the right, + And throw each vile and robber den + Wide open to the light. + + Yet, shame upon them! there they sit, + Men of the North, subdued and still; + Meek, pliant poltroons, only fit + To work a master's will. + + Sold, bargained off for Southern votes, + A passive herd of Northern mules, + Just braying through their purchased throats + Whate'er their owner rules. + + And he, (2) the basest of the base, + The vilest of the vile, whose name, + Embalmed in infinite disgrace, + Is deathless in its shame! + + A tool, to bolt the people's door + Against the people clamoring there, + An ass, to trample on their floor + A people's right of prayer! + + Nailed to his self-made gibbet fast, + Self-pilloried to the public view, + A mark for every passing blast + Of scorn to whistle through; + + There let him hang, and hear the boast + Of Southrons o'er their pliant tool,-- + A new Stylites on his post, + "Sacred to ridicule!" + + Look we at home! our noble hall, + To Freedom's holy purpose given, + Now rears its black and ruined wall, + Beneath the wintry heaven, + + Telling the story of its doom, + The fiendish mob, the prostrate law, + The fiery jet through midnight's gloom, + Our gazing thousands saw. + + Look to our State! the poor man's right + Torn from him: and the sons of those + Whose blood in Freedom's sternest fight + Sprinkled the Jersey snows, + + Outlawed within the land of Penn, + That Slavery's guilty fears might cease, + And those whom God created men + Toil on as brutes in peace. + + Yet o'er the blackness of the storm + A bow of promise bends on high, + And gleams of sunshine, soft and warm, + Break through our clouded sky. + + East, West, and North, the shout is heard, + Of freemen rising for the right + Each valley hath its rallying word, + Each hill its signal light. + + O'er Massachusetts' rocks of gray, + The strengthening light of freedom shines, + Rhode Island's Narragansett Bay, + And Vermont's snow-hung pines! + + From Hudson's frowning palisades + To Alleghany's laurelled crest, + O'er lakes and prairies, streams and glades, + It shines upon the West. + + Speed on the light to those who dwell + In Slavery's land of woe and sin, + And through the blackness of that bell, + Let Heaven's own light break in. + + So shall the Southern conscience quake + Before that light poured full and strong, + So shall the Southern heart awake + To all the bondman's wrong. + + And from that rich and sunny land + The song of grateful millions rise, + Like that of Israel's ransomed band + Beneath Arabia's skies: + + And all who now are bound beneath + Our banner's shade, our eagle's wing, + From Slavery's night of moral death + To light and life shall spring. + + Broken the bondman's chain, and gone + The master's guilt, and hate, and fear, + And unto both alike shall dawn + A New and Happy Year. + + 1839. + + + + +THE RELIC. + +Written on receiving a cane wrought from a fragment of the wood-work +of Pennsylvania Hall which the fire had spared. + + TOKEN of friendship true and tried, + From one whose fiery heart of youth + With mine has beaten, side by side, + For Liberty and Truth; + With honest pride the gift I take, + And prize it for the giver's sake. + + But not alone because it tells + Of generous hand and heart sincere; + Around that gift of friendship dwells + A memory doubly dear; + Earth's noblest aim, man's holiest thought, + With that memorial frail in wrought! + + Pure thoughts and sweet like flowers unfold, + And precious memories round it cling, + Even as the Prophet's rod of old + In beauty blossoming: + And buds of feeling, pure and good, + Spring from its cold unconscious wood. + + Relic of Freedom's shrine! a brand + Plucked from its burning! let it be + Dear as a jewel from the hand + Of a lost friend to me! + Flower of a perished garland left, + Of life and beauty unbereft! + + Oh, if the young enthusiast bears, + O'er weary waste and sea, the stone + Which crumbled from the Forum's stairs, + Or round the Parthenon; + Or olive-bough from some wild tree + Hung over old Thermopylae: + + If leaflets from some hero's tomb, + Or moss-wreath torn from ruins hoary; + Or faded flowers whose sisters bloom + On fields renowned in story; + Or fragment from the Alhambra's crest, + Or the gray rock by Druids blessed; + + Sad Erin's shamrock greenly growing + Where Freedom led her stalwart kern, + Or Scotia's "rough bur thistle" blowing + On Bruce's Bannockburn; + Or Runnymede's wild English rose, + Or lichen plucked from Sempach's snows! + + If it be true that things like these + To heart and eye bright visions bring, + Shall not far holier memories + To this memorial cling + Which needs no mellowing mist of time + To hide the crimson stains of crime! + + Wreck of a temple, unprofaned; + Of courts where Peace with Freedom trod, + Lifting on high, with hands unstained, + Thanksgiving unto God; + Where Mercy's voice of love was pleading + For human hearts in bondage bleeding; + + Where, midst the sound of rushing feet + And curses on the night-air flung, + That pleading voice rose calm and sweet + From woman's earnest tongue; + And Riot turned his scowling glance, + Awed, from her tranquil countenance! + + That temple now in ruin lies! + The fire-stain on its shattered wall, + And open to the changing skies + Its black and roofless hall, + It stands before a nation's sight, + A gravestone over buried Right! + + But from that ruin, as of old, + The fire-scorched stones themselves are crying, + And from their ashes white and cold + Its timbers are replying! + A voice which slavery cannot kill + Speaks from the crumbling arches still! + + And even this relic from thy shrine, + O holy Freedom! Hath to me + A potent power, a voice and sign + To testify of thee; + And, grasping it, methinks I feel + A deeper faith, a stronger zeal. + + And not unlike that mystic rod, + Of old stretched o'er the Egyptian wave, + Which opened, in the strength of God, + A pathway for the slave, + It yet may point the bondman's way, + And turn the spoiler from his prey. + + 1839. + + + + +THE WORLD'S CONVENTION OF THE FRIENDS OF EMANCIPATION, + +HELD IN LONDON IN 1840. + +Joseph Sturge, the founder of the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery +Society, proposed the calling of a world's anti-slavery convention, and +the proposal was promptly seconded by the American Anti-Slavery Society. +The call was addressed to "friends of the slave of every nation and of +every clime." + + YES, let them gather! Summon forth + The pledged philanthropy of Earth. + From every land, whose hills have heard + The bugle blast of Freedom waking; + Or shrieking of her symbol-bird + From out his cloudy eyrie breaking + Where Justice hath one worshipper, + Or truth one altar built to her; + + Where'er a human eye is weeping + O'er wrongs which Earth's sad children know; + Where'er a single heart is keeping + Its prayerful watch with human woe + Thence let them come, and greet each other, + And know in each a friend and brother! + + Yes, let them come! from each green vale + Where England's old baronial halls + Still bear upon their storied walls + The grim crusader's rusted mail, + Battered by Paynim spear and brand + On Malta's rock or Syria's sand! + And mouldering pennon-staves once set + Within the soil of Palestine, + By Jordan and Gennesaret; + Or, borne with England's battle line, + O'er Acre's shattered turrets stooping, + Or, midst the camp their banners drooping, + With dews from hallowed Hermon wet, + A holier summons now is given + Than that gray hermit's voice of old, + Which unto all the winds of heaven + The banners of the Cross unrolled! + Not for the long-deserted shrine; + Not for the dull unconscious sod, + Which tells not by one lingering sign + That there the hope of Israel trod; + But for that truth, for which alone + In pilgrim eyes are sanctified + The garden moss, the mountain stone, + Whereon His holy sandals pressed,-- + The fountain which His lip hath blessed,-- + + Whate'er hath touched His garment's hem + At Bethany or Bethlehem, + Or Jordan's river-side. + For Freedom in the name of Him + Who came to raise Earth's drooping poor, + To break the chain from every limb, + The bolt from every prison door! + For these, o'er all the earth hath passed + An ever-deepening trumpet blast, + As if an angel's breath had lent + Its vigor to the instrument. + + And Wales, from Snowden's mountain wall, + Shall startle at that thrilling call, + As if she heard her bards again; + And Erin's "harp on Tara's wall" + Give out its ancient strain, + Mirthful and sweet, yet sad withal,-- + The melody which Erin loves, + When o'er that harp, 'mid bursts of gladness + And slogan cries and lyke-wake sadness, + The hand of her O'Connell moves! + Scotland, from lake and tarn and rill, + And mountain hold, and heathery bill, + Shall catch and echo back the note, + As if she heard upon the air + Once more her Cameronian's prayer + And song of Freedom float. + And cheering echoes shall reply + From each remote dependency, + Where Britain's mighty sway is known, + In tropic sea or frozen zone; + Where'er her sunset flag is furling, + Or morning gun-fire's smoke is curling; + From Indian Bengal's groves of palm + And rosy fields and gales of balm, + Where Eastern pomp and power are rolled + Through regal Ava's gates of gold; + And from the lakes and ancient woods + And dim Canadian solitudes, + Whence, sternly from her rocky throne, + Queen of the North, Quebec looks down; + And from those bright and ransomed Isles + Where all unwonted Freedom smiles, + And the dark laborer still retains + The scar of slavery's broken chains! + + From the hoar Alps, which sentinel + The gateways of the land of Tell, + Where morning's keen and earliest glance + On Jura's rocky wall is thrown, + And from the olive bowers of France + And vine groves garlanding the Rhone,-- + "Friends of the Blacks," as true and tried + As those who stood by Oge's side, + And heard the Haytien's tale of wrong, + Shall gather at that summons strong; + Broglie, Passy, and he whose song + Breathed over Syria's holy sod, + And, in the paths which Jesus trod, + And murmured midst the hills which hem + Crownless and sad Jerusalem, + Hath echoes whereso'er the tone + Of Israel's prophet-lyre is known. + + Still let them come; from Quito's walls, + And from the Orinoco's tide, + From Lima's Inca-haunted halls, + From Santa Fe and Yucatan,-- + Men who by swart Guerrero's side + Proclaimed the deathless rights of man, + Broke every bond and fetter off, + And hailed in every sable serf + A free and brother Mexican! + Chiefs who across the Andes' chain + Have followed Freedom's flowing pennon, + And seen on Junin's fearful plain, + Glare o'er the broken ranks of Spain + The fire-burst of Bolivar's cannon! + And Hayti, from her mountain land, + Shall send the sons of those who hurled + Defiance from her blazing strand, + The war-gage from her Petion's hand, + Alone against a hostile world. + + Nor all unmindful, thou, the while, + Land of the dark and mystic Nile! + Thy Moslem mercy yet may shame + All tyrants of a Christian name, + When in the shade of Gizeh's pile, + Or, where, from Abyssinian hills + El Gerek's upper fountain fills, + Or where from Mountains of the Moon + El Abiad bears his watery boon, + Where'er thy lotus blossoms swim + Within their ancient hallowed waters; + Where'er is beard the Coptic hymn, + Or song of Nubia's sable daughters; + The curse of slavery and the crime, + Thy bequest from remotest time, + At thy dark Mehemet's decree + Forevermore shall pass from thee; + And chains forsake each captive's limb + Of all those tribes, whose hills around + Have echoed back the cymbal sound + And victor horn of Ibrahim. + + And thou whose glory and whose crime + To earth's remotest bound and clime, + In mingled tones of awe and scorn, + The echoes of a world have borne, + My country! glorious at thy birth, + A day-star flashing brightly forth, + The herald-sign of Freedom's dawn! + Oh, who could dream that saw thee then, + And watched thy rising from afar, + That vapors from oppression's fen + Would cloud the upward tending star? + Or, that earth's tyrant powers, which heard, + Awe-struck, the shout which hailed thy dawning, + Would rise so soon, prince, peer, and king, + To mock thee with their welcoming, + Like Hades when her thrones were stirred + To greet the down-cast Star of Morning! + "Aha! and art thou fallen thus? + Art thou become as one of us?" + + Land of my fathers! there will stand, + Amidst that world-assembled band, + Those owning thy maternal claim + Unweakened by thy, crime and shame; + The sad reprovers of thy wrong; + The children thou hast spurned so long. + + Still with affection's fondest yearning + To their unnatural mother turning. + No traitors they! but tried and leal, + Whose own is but thy general weal, + Still blending with the patriot's zeal + The Christian's love for human kind, + To caste and climate unconfined. + + A holy gathering! peaceful all + No threat of war, no savage call + For vengeance on an erring brother! + But in their stead the godlike plan + To teach the brotherhood of man + To love and reverence one another, + As sharers of a common blood, + The children of a common God + Yet, even at its lightest word, + Shall Slavery's darkest depths be stirred: + Spain, watching from her Moro's keep + Her slave-ships traversing the deep, + And Rio, in her strength and pride, + Lifting, along her mountain-side, + Her snowy battlements and towers, + Her lemon-groves and tropic bowers, + With bitter hate and sullen fear + Its freedom-giving voice shall hear; + And where my country's flag is flowing, + On breezes from Mount Vernon blowing, + Above the Nation's council halls, + Where Freedom's praise is loud and long, + While close beneath the outward walls + The driver plies his reeking thong; + The hammer of the man-thief falls, + O'er hypocritic cheek and brow + The crimson flush of shame shall glow + And all who for their native land + Are pledging life and heart and hand, + Worn watchers o'er her changing weal, + Who fog her tarnished honor feel, + Through cottage door and council-hall + Shall thunder an awakening call. + The pen along its page shall burn + With all intolerable scorn; + An eloquent rebuke shall go + On all the winds that Southward blow; + From priestly lips, now sealed and dumb, + Warning and dread appeal shall come, + Like those which Israel heard from him, + The Prophet of the Cherubim; + Or those which sad Esaias hurled + Against a sin-accursed world! + Its wizard leaves the Press shall fling + Unceasing from its iron wing, + With characters inscribed thereon, + As fearful in the despot's ball + As to the pomp of Babylon + The fire-sign on the palace wall! + + And, from her dark iniquities, + Methinks I see my country rise + Not challenging the nations round + To note her tardy justice done; + Her captives from their chains unbound; + Her prisons opening to the sun + But tearfully her arms extending + Over the poor and unoffending; + Her regal emblem now no longer + + A bird of prey, with talons reeking, + Above the dying captive shrieking, + But, spreading out her ample wing, + A broad, impartial covering, + The weaker sheltered by the stronger + Oh, then to Faith's anointed eyes + The promised token shall be given; + And on a nation's sacrifice, + Atoning for the sin of years, + And wet with penitential tears, + The fire shall fall from Heaven! + + 1839. + + + + +MASSACHUSETTS TO VIRGINIA. + +Written on reading an account of the proceedings of the citizens of +Norfolk, Va., in reference to George Latimer, the alleged fugitive +slave, who was seized in Boston without warrant at the request of James +B. Grey, of Norfolk, claiming to be his master. The case caused great +excitement North and South, and led to the presentation of a petition to +Congress, signed by more than fifty thousand citizens of Massachusetts, +calling for such laws and proposed amendments to the Constitution as +should relieve the Commonwealth from all further participation in the +crime of oppression. George Latimer himself was finally given free +papers for the sum of four hundred dollars. + + THE blast from Freedom's Northern hills, upon its Southern way, + Bears greeting to Virginia from Massachusetts Bay. + No word of haughty challenging, nor battle bugle's peal, + Nor steady tread of marching files, nor clang of horsemen's steel. + + No trains of deep-mouthed cannon along our highways go; + Around our silent arsenals untrodden lies the snow; + And to the land-breeze of our ports, upon their errands far, + A thousand sails of commerce swell, but none are spread for war. + + We hear thy threats, Virginia! thy stormy words and high, + Swell harshly on the Southern winds which melt along our sky; + Yet, not one brown, hard hand foregoes its honest labor here, + No hewer of our mountain oaks suspends his axe in fear. + + Wild are the waves which lash the reefs along St. George's bank; + Cold on the shore of Labrador the fog lies white and dank; + Through storm, and wave, and blinding mist, stout + are the hearts which man + The fishing-smacks of Marblehead, the sea-boats of Cape Ann. + + The cold north light and wintry sun glare on their icy forms, + Bent grimly o'er their straining lines or wrestling with the storms; + Free as the winds they drive before, rough as the waves they roam, + They laugh to scorn the slaver's threat against their rocky home. + + What means the Old Dominion? Hath she forgot the day + When o'er her conquered valleys swept the Briton's steel array? + How side by side, with sons of hers, the Massachusetts men + Encountered Tarleton's charge of fire, and stout Cornwallis, then? + + Forgets she how the Bay State, in answer to the call + Of her old House of Burgesses, spoke out from Faneuil Hall? + When, echoing back her Henry's cry, came pulsing on each breath + Of Northern winds, the thrilling sounds of "Liberty or Death!" + + What asks the Old Dominion? If now her sons have proved + False to their fathers' memory, false to the faith they loved; + If she can scoff at Freedom, and its great charter spurn, + Must we of Massachusetts from truth and duty turn? + + We hunt your bondmen, flying from Slavery's hateful hell; + Our voices, at your bidding, take up the bloodhound's yell; + We gather, at your summons, above our fathers' graves, + From Freedom's holy altar-horns to tear your wretched slaves! + + Thank God! not yet so vilely can Massachusetts bow; + The spirit of her early time is with her even now; + Dream not because her Pilgrim blood moves slow and calm and cool, + She thus can stoop her chainless neck, a sister's slave and tool! + + All that a sister State should do, all that a free State may, + Heart, hand, and purse we proffer, as in our early day; + But that one dark loathsome burden ye must stagger with alone, + And reap the bitter harvest which ye yourselves have sown! + + Hold, while ye may, your struggling slaves, and burden God's free air + With woman's shriek beneath the lash, and manhood's wild despair; + Cling closer to the "cleaving curse" that writes upon your plains + The blasting of Almighty wrath against a land of chains. + + Still shame your gallant ancestry, the cavaliers of old, + By watching round the shambles where human flesh is sold; + Gloat o'er the new-born child, and count his market value, when + The maddened mother's cry of woe shall pierce the slaver's den! + + Lower than plummet soundeth, sink the Virginia name; + Plant, if ye will, your fathers' graves with rankest weeds of shame; + Be, if ye will, the scandal of God's fair universe; + We wash our hands forever of your sin and shame and curse. + + A voice from lips whereon the coal from Freedom's shrine hath been, + Thrilled, as but yesterday, the hearts of Berkshire's mountain men: + The echoes of that solemn voice are sadly lingering still + In all our sunny valleys, on every wind-swept hill. + + And when the prowling man-thief came hunting for his prey + Beneath the very shadow of Bunker's shaft of gray, + How, through the free lips of the son, the father's warning spoke; + How, from its bonds of trade and sect, the Pilgrim city broke! + + A hundred thousand right arms were lifted up on high, + A hundred thousand voices sent back their loud reply; + Through the thronged towns of Essex the startling summons rang, + And up from bench and loom and wheel her young mechanics sprang! + + The voice of free, broad Middlesex, of thousands as of one, + The shaft of Bunker calling to that of Lexington; + From Norfolk's ancient villages, from Plymouth's rocky bound + To where Nantucket feels the arms of ocean close her round; + + From rich and rural Worcester, where through the calm repose + Of cultured vales and fringing woods the gentle Nashua flows, + To where Wachuset's wintry blasts the mountain larches stir, + Swelled up to Heaven the thrilling cry of "God save Latimer!" + + And sandy Barnstable rose up, wet with the salt sea spray; + And Bristol sent her answering shout down Narragansett Bay + Along the broad Connecticut old Hampden felt the thrill, + And the cheer of Hampshire's woodmen swept down from Holyoke Hill. + + The voice of Massachusetts! Of her free sons and daughters, + Deep calling unto deep aloud, the sound of many waters! + Against the burden of that voice what tyrant power shall stand? + No fetters in the Bay State! No slave upon her land! + + Look to it well, Virginians! In calmness we have borne, + In answer to our faith and trust, your insult and your scorn; + You've spurned our kindest counsels; you've hunted for our lives; + And shaken round our hearths and homes your manacles and gyves! + + We wage no war, we lift no arm, we fling no torch within + The fire-clamps of the quaking mine beneath your soil of sin; + We leave ye with your bondmen, to wrestle, while ye can, + With the strong upward tendencies and godlike soul of man! + + But for us and for our children, the vow which we have given + For freedom and humanity is registered in heaven; + No slave-hunt in our borders,--no pirate on our strand! + No fetters in the Bay State,--no slave upon our land! + + 1843. + + + + +THE CHRISTIAN SLAVE. + +In a publication of L. F. Tasistro--Random Shots and Southern Breezes-- +is a description of a slave auction at New Orleans, at which the +auctioneer recommended the woman on the stand as "A GOOD CHRISTIAN!" It +was not uncommon to see advertisements of slaves for sale, in which they +were described as pious or as members of the church. In one +advertisement a slave was noted as "a Baptist preacher." + + + A CHRISTIAN! going, gone! + Who bids for God's own image? for his grace, + Which that poor victim of the market-place + Hath in her suffering won? + + My God! can such things be? + Hast Thou not said that whatsoe'er is done + Unto Thy weakest and Thy humblest one + Is even done to Thee? + + In that sad victim, then, + Child of Thy pitying love, I see Thee stand; + Once more the jest-word of a mocking band, + Bound, sold, and scourged again! + + A Christian up for sale! + Wet with her blood your whips, o'ertask her frame, + Make her life loathsome with your wrong and shame, + Her patience shall not fail! + + A heathen hand might deal + Back on your heads the gathered wrong of years: + But her low, broken prayer and nightly tears, + Ye neither heed nor feel. + + Con well thy lesson o'er, + Thou prudent teacher, tell the toiling slave + No dangerous tale of Him who came to save + The outcast and the poor. + + But wisely shut the ray + Of God's free Gospel from her simple heart, + And to her darkened mind alone impart + One stern command, Obey! (3) + + So shalt thou deftly raise + The market price of human flesh; and while + On thee, their pampered guest, the planters smile, + Thy church shall praise. + + Grave, reverend men shall tell + From Northern pulpits how thy work was blest, + While in that vile South Sodom first and best, + Thy poor disciples sell. + + Oh, shame! the Moslem thrall, + Who, with his master, to the Prophet kneels, + While turning to the sacred Kebla feels + His fetters break and fall. + + Cheers for the turbaned Bey + Of robber-peopled Tunis! he hath torn + The dark slave-dungeons open, and hath borne + Their inmates into day: + + But our poor slave in vain + Turns to the Christian shrine his aching eyes; + Its rites will only swell his market price, + And rivet on his chain. + + God of all right! how long + Shall priestly robbers at Thine altar stand, + Lifting in prayer to Thee, the bloody hand + And haughty brow of wrong? + + 1843 + + + + +THE SENTENCE OF JOHN L. BROWN + + Oh, from the fields of cane, + From the low rice-swamp, from the trader's cell; + From the black slave-ship's foul and loathsome hell, + And coffle's weary chain; + Hoarse, horrible, and strong, + Rises to Heaven that agonizing cry, + Filling the arches of the hollow sky, + How long, O God, how long? + + + + +THE SENTENCE OF JOHN L. BROWN. + +John L. Brown, a young white man of South Carolina, was in 1844 +sentenced to death for aiding a young slave woman, whom he loved and had +married, to escape from slavery. In pronouncing the sentence Judge +O'Neale addressed to the prisoner these words of appalling blasphemy: + +You are to die! To die an ignominious death--the death on the gallows! +This announcement is, to you, I know, most appalling. Little did you +dream of it when you stepped into the bar with an air as if you thought +it was a fine frolic. But the consequences of crime are just such as you +are realizing. Punishment often comes when it is least expected. Let me +entreat you to take the present opportunity to commence the work of +reformation. Time will be furnished you to prepare for the great change +just before you. Of your past life I know nothing, except what your +trial furnished. That told me that the crime for which you are to suffer +was the consequence of a want of attention on your part to the duties of +life. The strange woman snared you. She flattered you with her word; +and you became her victim. The consequence was, that, led on by a desire +to serve her, you committed the offence of aid in a slave to run away +and depart from her master's service; and now, for it you are to die! +You are a young man, and I fear you have been dissolute; and if so, +these kindred vices have contributed a full measure to your ruin. +Reflect on your past life, and make the only useful devotion of the +remnant of your days in preparing for death. Remember now thy Creator in +the days of thy youth is the language of inspired wisdom. This comes +home appropriately to you in this trying moment. You are young; quite +too young to be where you are. If you had remembered your Creator in +your past days, you would not now be in a felon's place, to receive a +felon's judgment. Still, it is not too late to remember your Creator. He +calls early, and He calls late. He stretches out the arms of a Father's +love to you--to the vilest sinner--and says: "Come unto me and be +saved." You can perhaps read. If so, read the Scriptures; read them +without note, and without comment; and pray to God for His assistance; +and you will be able to say when you pass from prison to execution, as a +poor slave said under similar circumstances: "I am glad my Friday has +come." If you cannot read the Scriptures, the ministers of our holy +religion will be ready to aid you. They will read and explain to you +until you will be able to understand; and understanding, to call upon +the only One who can help you and save you--Jesus Christ, the Lamb of +God, who taketh away the sin of the world. To Him I commend you. And +through Him may you have that opening of the Day-Spring of mercy from +on high, which shall bless you here, and crown you as a saint in an +everlasting world, forever and ever. The sentence of the law is that you +be taken hence to the place from whence you came last; thence to the +jail of Fairfield District; and that there you be closely and securely +confined until Friday, the 26th day of April next; on which day, between +the hours of ten in the forenoon and two in the afternoon, you will be +taken to the place of public execution, and there be hanged by the neck +till your body be dead. And may God have mercy on your soul! + +No event in the history of the anti-slavery struggle so stirred the two +hemispheres as did this dreadful sentence. A cry of horror was heard +from Europe. In the British House of Lords, Brougham and Denman spoke of +it with mingled pathos and indignation. Thirteen hundred clergymen and +church officers in Great Britain addressed a memorial to the churches of +South Carolina against the atrocity. Indeed, so strong was the pressure +of the sentiment of abhorrence and disgust that South Carolina yielded +to it, and the sentence was commuted to scourging and banishment. + + Ho! thou who seekest late and long + A License from the Holy Book + For brutal lust and fiendish wrong, + Man of the Pulpit, look! + Lift up those cold and atheist eyes, + This ripe fruit of thy teaching see; + And tell us how to heaven will rise + The incense of this sacrifice-- + This blossom of the gallows tree! + + Search out for slavery's hour of need + Some fitting text of sacred writ; + Give heaven the credit of a deed + Which shames the nether pit. + Kneel, smooth blasphemer, unto Him + Whose truth is on thy lips a lie; + Ask that His bright winged cherubim + May bend around that scaffold grim + To guard and bless and sanctify. + + O champion of the people's cause + Suspend thy loud and vain rebuke + Of foreign wrong and Old World's laws, + Man of the Senate, look! + Was this the promise of the free, + The great hope of our early time, + That slavery's poison vine should be + Upborne by Freedom's prayer-nursed tree + O'erclustered with such fruits of crime? + + Send out the summons East and West, + And South and North, let all be there + Where he who pitied the oppressed + Swings out in sun and air. + Let not a Democratic hand + The grisly hangman's task refuse; + There let each loyal patriot stand, + Awaiting slavery's command, + To twist the rope and draw the noose! + + But vain is irony--unmeet + Its cold rebuke for deeds which start + In fiery and indignant beat + The pulses of the heart. + Leave studied wit and guarded phrase + For those who think but do not feel; + Let men speak out in words which raise + Where'er they fall, an answering blaze + Like flints which strike the fire from steel. + + Still let a mousing priesthood ply + Their garbled text and gloss of sin, + And make the lettered scroll deny + Its living soul within: + Still let the place-fed, titled knave + Plead robbery's right with purchased lips, + And tell us that our fathers gave + For Freedom's pedestal, a slave, + The frieze and moulding, chains and whips! + + But ye who own that Higher Law + Whose tablets in the heart are set, + Speak out in words of power and awe + That God is living yet! + Breathe forth once more those tones sublime + Which thrilled the burdened prophet's lyre, + And in a dark and evil time + Smote down on Israel's fast of crime + And gift of blood, a rain of fire! + + Oh, not for us the graceful lay + To whose soft measures lightly move + The footsteps of the faun and fay, + O'er-locked by mirth and love! + But such a stern and startling strain + As Britain's hunted bards flung down + From Snowden to the conquered plain, + Where harshly clanked the Saxon chain, + On trampled field and smoking town. + + By Liberty's dishonored name, + By man's lost hope and failing trust, + By words and deeds which bow with shame + Our foreheads to the dust, + By the exulting strangers' sneer, + Borne to us from the Old World's thrones, + And by their victims' grief who hear, + In sunless mines and dungeons drear, + How Freedom's land her faith disowns! + + Speak out in acts. The time for words + Has passed, and deeds suffice alone; + In vain against the clang of swords + The wailing pipe is blown! + Act, act in God's name, while ye may! + Smite from the church her leprous limb! + Throw open to the light of day + The bondman's cell, and break away + The chains the state has bound on him! + + Ho! every true and living soul, + To Freedom's perilled altar bear + The Freeman's and the Christian's whole + Tongue, pen, and vote, and prayer! + One last, great battle for the right-- + One short, sharp struggle to be free! + To do is to succeed--our fight + Is waged in Heaven's approving sight; + The smile of God is Victory. + + 1844. + + + + +TEXAS + +VOICE OF NEW ENGLAND. + +The five poems immediately following indicate the intense feeling of the +friends of freedom in view of the annexation of Texas, with its vast +territory sufficient, as was boasted, for six new slave States. + + Up the hillside, down the glen, + Rouse the sleeping citizen; + Summon out the might of men! + + Like a lion growling low, + Like a night-storm rising slow, + Like the tread of unseen foe; + + It is coming, it is nigh! + Stand your homes and altars by; + On your own free thresholds die. + + Clang the bells in all your spires; + On the gray hills of your sires + Fling to heaven your signal-fires. + + From Wachuset, lone and bleak, + Unto Berkshire's tallest peak, + Let the flame-tongued heralds speak. + + Oh, for God and duty stand, + Heart to heart and hand to hand, + Round the old graves of the land. + + Whoso shrinks or falters now, + Whoso to the yoke would bow, + Brand the craven on his brow! + + Freedom's soil hath only place + For a free and fearless race, + None for traitors false and base. + + Perish party, perish clan; + Strike together while ye can, + Like the arm of one strong man. + + Like that angel's voice sublime, + Heard above a world of crime, + Crying of the end of time; + + With one heart and with one mouth, + Let the North unto the South + Speak the word befitting both. + + "What though Issachar be strong + Ye may load his back with wrong + Overmuch and over long: + + "Patience with her cup o'errun, + With her weary thread outspun, + Murmurs that her work is done. + + "Make our Union-bond a chain, + Weak as tow in Freedom's strain + Link by link shall snap in twain. + + "Vainly shall your sand-wrought rope + Bind the starry cluster up, + Shattered over heaven's blue cope! + + "Give us bright though broken rays, + Rather than eternal haze, + Clouding o'er the full-orbed blaze. + + "Take your land of sun and bloom; + Only leave to Freedom room + For her plough, and forge, and loom; + + "Take your slavery-blackened vales; + Leave us but our own free gales, + Blowing on our thousand sails. + + "Boldly, or with treacherous art, + Strike the blood-wrought chain apart; + Break the Union's mighty heart; + + "Work the ruin, if ye will; + Pluck upon your heads an ill + Which shall grow and deepen still. + + "With your bondman's right arm bare, + With his heart of black despair, + Stand alone, if stand ye dare! + + "Onward with your fell design; + Dig the gulf and draw the line + Fire beneath your feet the mine! + + "Deeply, when the wide abyss + Yawns between your land and this, + Shall ye feel your helplessness. + + "By the hearth, and in the bed, + Shaken by a look or tread, + Ye shall own a guilty dread. + + "And the curse of unpaid toil, + Downward through your generous soil + Like a fire shall burn and spoil. + + "Our bleak hills shall bud and blow, + Vines our rocks shall overgrow, + Plenty in our valleys flow;-- + + "And when vengeance clouds your skies, + Hither shall ye turn your eyes, + As the lost on Paradise! + + "We but ask our rocky strand, + Freedom's true and brother band, + Freedom's strong and honest hand; + + "Valleys by the slave untrod, + And the Pilgrim's mountain sod, + Blessed of our fathers' God!" + + 1844. + + + + +TO FANEUIL HALL. + +Written in 1844, on reading a call by "a Massachusetts Freeman" for a +meeting in Faneuil Hall of the citizens of Massachusetts, without +distinction of party, opposed to the annexation of Texas, and the +aggressions of South Carolina, and in favor of decisive action against +slavery. + + MEN! if manhood still ye claim, + If the Northern pulse can thrill, + Roused by wrong or stung by shame, + Freely, strongly still; + Let the sounds of traffic die + Shut the mill-gate, leave the stall, + Fling the axe and hammer by; + Throng to Faneuil Hall! + + Wrongs which freemen never brooked, + Dangers grim and fierce as they, + Which, like couching lions, looked + On your fathers' way; + These your instant zeal demand, + Shaking with their earthquake-call + Every rood of Pilgrim land, + Ho, to Faneuil Hall! + + From your capes and sandy bars, + From your mountain-ridges cold, + Through whose pines the westering stars + Stoop their crowns of gold; + Come, and with your footsteps wake + Echoes from that holy wall; + Once again, for Freedom's sake, + Rock your fathers' hall! + + Up, and tread beneath your feet + Every cord by party spun: + Let your hearts together beat + As the heart of one. + Banks and tariffs, stocks and trade, + Let them rise or let them fall: + Freedom asks your common aid,-- + Up, to Faneuil Hall! + + Up, and let each voice that speaks + Ring from thence to Southern plains, + Sharply as the blow which breaks + Prison-bolts and chains! + Speak as well becomes the free + Dreaded more than steel or ball, + Shall your calmest utterance be, + Heard from Faneuil Hall! + + Have they wronged us? Let us then + Render back nor threats nor prayers; + Have they chained our free-born men? + Let us unchain theirs! + Up, your banner leads the van, + Blazoned, "Liberty for all!" + + Finish what your sires began! + Up, to Faneuil Hall! + + + + +TO MASSACHUSETTS. + + WHAT though around thee blazes + No fiery rallying sign? + From all thy own high places, + Give heaven the light of thine! + What though unthrilled, unmoving, + The statesman stand apart, + And comes no warm approving + From Mammon's crowded mart? + + Still, let the land be shaken + By a summons of thine own! + By all save truth forsaken, + Stand fast with that alone! + Shrink not from strife unequal! + With the best is always hope; + And ever in the sequel + God holds the right side up! + + But when, with thine uniting, + Come voices long and loud, + And far-off hills are writing + Thy fire-words on the cloud; + When from Penobscot's fountains + A deep response is heard, + And across the Western mountains + Rolls back thy rallying word; + + Shall thy line of battle falter, + With its allies just in view? + Oh, by hearth and holy altar, + My fatherland, be true! + Fling abroad thy scrolls of Freedom + Speed them onward far and fast + Over hill and valley speed them, + Like the sibyl's on the blast! + + Lo! the Empire State is shaking + The shackles from her hand; + With the rugged North is waking + The level sunset land! + On they come, the free battalions + East and West and North they come, + And the heart-beat of the millions + Is the beat of Freedom's drum. + + "To the tyrant's plot no favor + No heed to place-fed knaves! + Bar and bolt the door forever + Against the land of slaves!" + Hear it, mother Earth, and hear it, + The heavens above us spread! + The land is roused,--its spirit + Was sleeping, but not dead! + + 1844. + + + + +NEW HAMPSHIRE. + + GOD bless New Hampshire! from her granite peaks + Once more the voice of Stark and Langdon speaks. + The long-bound vassal of the exulting South + For very shame her self-forged chain has broken; + Torn the black seal of slavery from her mouth, + And in the clear tones of her old time spoken! + Oh, all undreamed-of, all unhoped-for changes + The tyrant's ally proves his sternest foe; + To all his biddings, from her mountain ranges, + New Hampshire thunders an indignant No! + Who is it now despairs? Oh, faint of heart, + Look upward to those Northern mountains cold, + Flouted by Freedom's victor-flag unrolled, + And gather strength to bear a manlier part + All is not lost. The angel of God's blessing + Encamps with Freedom on the field of fight; + Still to her banner, day by day, are pressing, + Unlooked-for allies, striking for the right + Courage, then, Northern hearts! Be firm, be true: + What one brave State hath done, can ye not also do? + + 1845. + + + + +THE PINE-TREE. + +Written on hearing that the Anti-Slavery Resolves of Stephen C. Phillips +had been rejected by the Whig Convention in Faneuil Hall, in 1846. + + LIFT again the stately emblem on the Bay State's + rusted shield, + Give to Northern winds the Pine-Tree on our banner's + tattered field. + Sons of men who sat in council with their Bibles + round the board, + Answering England's royal missive with a firm, + "Thus saith the Lord!" + Rise again for home and freedom! set the battle + in array! + What the fathers did of old time we their sons + must do to-day. + + Tell us not of banks and tariffs, cease your paltry + pedler cries; + Shall the good State sink her honor that your + gambling stocks may rise? + Would ye barter man for cotton? That your + gains may sum up higher, + Must we kiss the feet of Moloch, pass our children + through the fire? + Is the dollar only real? God and truth and right + a dream? + Weighed against your lying ledgers must our manhood + kick the beam? + + O my God! for that free spirit, which of old in + Boston town + Smote the Province House with terror, struck the + crest of Andros down! + For another strong-voiced Adams in the city's + streets to cry, + "Up for God and Massachusetts! Set your feet + on Mammon's lie! + Perish banks and perish traffic, spin your cotton's + latest pound, + But in Heaven's name keep your honor, keep the + heart o' the Bay State sound!" + Where's the man for Massachusetts! Where's + the voice to speak her free? + Where's the hand to light up bonfires from her + mountains to the sea? + Beats her Pilgrim pulse no longer? Sits she dumb + in her despair? + Has she none to break the silence? Has she none + to do and dare? + O my God! for one right worthy to lift up her + rusted shield, + And to plant again the Pine-Tree in her banner's + tattered field + + 1840. + + + + +TO A SOUTHERN STATESMAN. + +John C. Calhoun, who had strongly urged the extension of slave territory +by the annexation of Texas, even if it should involve a war with +England, was unwilling to promote the acquisition of Oregon, which would +enlarge the Northern domain of freedom, and pleaded as an excuse the +peril of foreign complications which he had defied when the interests +of slavery were involved. + + Is this thy voice whose treble notes of fear + Wail in the wind? And dost thou shake to hear, + Actieon-like, the bay of thine own hounds, + Spurning the leash, and leaping o'er their bounds? + Sore-baffled statesman! when thy eager hand, + With game afoot, unslipped the hungry pack, + To hunt down Freedom in her chosen land, + Hadst thou no fear, that, erelong, doubling back, + These dogs of thine might snuff on Slavery's track? + Where's now the boast, which even thy guarded tongue, + Cold, calm, and proud, in the teeth o' the Senate flung, + + O'er the fulfilment of thy baleful plan, + Like Satan's triumph at the fall of man? + How stood'st thou then, thy feet on Freedom planting, + And pointing to the lurid heaven afar, + Whence all could see, through the south windows slanting, + Crimson as blood, the beams of that Lone Star! + The Fates are just; they give us but our own; + Nemesis ripens what our hands have sown. + There is an Eastern story, not unknown, + Doubtless, to thee, of one whose magic skill + Called demons up his water-jars to fill; + Deftly and silently, they did his will, + But, when the task was done, kept pouring still. + In vain with spell and charm the wizard wrought, + Faster and faster were the buckets brought, + Higher and higher rose the flood around, + Till the fiends clapped their hands above their master drowned + So, Carolinian, it may prove with thee, + For God still overrules man's schemes, and takes + Craftiness in its self-set snare, and makes + The wrath of man to praise Him. It may be, + That the roused spirits of Democracy + May leave to freer States the same wide door + Through which thy slave-cursed Texas entered in, + From out the blood and fire, the wrong and sin, + Of the stormed-city and the ghastly plain, + Beat by hot hail, and wet with bloody rain, + The myriad-handed pioneer may pour, + And the wild West with the roused North combine + And heave the engineer of evil with his mine. + + 1846. + + + + +AT WASHINGTON. + +Suggested by a visit to the city of Washington, in the 12th month of +1845. + + WITH a cold and wintry noon-light + On its roofs and steeples shed, + Shadows weaving with the sunlight + From the gray sky overhead, + Broadly, vaguely, all around me, lies the half-built + town outspread. + + Through this broad street, restless ever, + Ebbs and flows a human tide, + Wave on wave a living river; + Wealth and fashion side by side; + Toiler, idler, slave and master, in the same quick + current glide. + + Underneath yon dome, whose coping + Springs above them, vast and tall, + Grave men in the dust are groping + For the largess, base and small, + Which the hand of Power is scattering, crumbs + which from its table fall. + + Base of heart! They vilely barter + Honor's wealth for party's place; + Step by step on Freedom's charter + Leaving footprints of disgrace; + For to-day's poor pittance turning from the great + hope of their race. + + Yet, where festal lamps are throwing + Glory round the dancer's hair, + Gold-tressed, like an angel's, flowing + Backward on the sunset air; + And the low quick pulse of music beats its measure + sweet and rare. + + There to-night shall woman's glances, + Star-like, welcome give to them; + Fawning fools with shy advances + Seek to touch their garments' hem, + With the tongue of flattery glozing deeds which + God and Truth condemn. + + From this glittering lie my vision + Takes a broader, sadder range, + Full before me have arisen + Other pictures dark and strange; + From the parlor to the prison must the scene and + witness change. + + Hark! the heavy gate is swinging + On its hinges, harsh and slow; + One pale prison lamp is flinging + On a fearful group below + Such a light as leaves to terror whatsoe'er it does + not show. + + Pitying God! Is that a woman + On whose wrist the shackles clash? + Is that shriek she utters human, + Underneath the stinging lash? + Are they men whose eyes of madness from that sad + procession flash? + + Still the dance goes gayly onward + What is it to Wealth and Pride + That without the stars are looking + On a scene which earth should hide? + That the slave-ship lies in waiting, rocking + on Potomac's tide! + + Vainly to that mean Ambition + Which, upon a rival's fall, + Winds above its old condition, + With a reptile's slimy crawl, + Shall the pleading voice of sorrow, shall the slave + in anguish call. + + Vainly to the child of Fashion, + Giving to ideal woe + Graceful luxury of compassion, + Shall the stricken mourner go; + Hateful seems the earnest sorrow, beautiful the + hollow show! + + Nay, my words are all too sweeping: + In this crowded human mart, + Feeling is not dead, but sleeping; + Man's strong will and woman's heart, + In the coming strife for Freedom, yet shall bear + their generous part. + + And from yonder sunny valleys, + Southward in the distance lost, + Freedom yet shall summon allies + Worthier than the North can boast, + With the Evil by their hearth-stones grappling at + severer cost. + + Now, the soul alone is willing + Faint the heart and weak the knee; + And as yet no lip is thrilling + With the mighty words, "Be Free!" + Tarrieth long the land's Good Angel, but his + advent is to be! + + Meanwhile, turning from the revel + To the prison-cell my sight, + For intenser hate of evil, + For a keener sense of right, + Shaking off thy dust, I thank thee, City of the + Slaves, to-night! + + "To thy duty now and ever! + Dream no more of rest or stay + Give to Freedom's great endeavor + All thou art and hast to-day:" + Thus, above the city's murmur, saith a Voice, or + seems to say. + + Ye with heart and vision gifted + To discern and love the right, + + Whose worn faces have been lifted + To the slowly-growing light, + Where from Freedom's sunrise drifted slowly + back the murk of night + + Ye who through long years of trial + Still have held your purpose fast, + While a lengthening shade the dial + from the westering sunshine cast, + And of hope each hour's denial seemed an echo of + the last! + + O my brothers! O my sisters + Would to God that ye were near, + Gazing with me down the vistas + Of a sorrow strange and drear; + Would to God that ye were listeners to the Voice + I seem to hear! + + With the storm above us driving, + With the false earth mined below, + Who shall marvel if thus striving + We have counted friend as foe; + Unto one another giving in the darkness blow for + blow. + + Well it may be that our natures + Have grown sterner and more hard, + And the freshness of their features + Somewhat harsh and battle-scarred, + And their harmonies of feeling overtasked and + rudely jarred. + + Be it so. It should not swerve us + From a purpose true and brave; + Dearer Freedom's rugged service + Than the pastime of the slave; + Better is the storm above it than the quiet of + the grave. + + Let us then, uniting, bury + All our idle feuds in dust, + And to future conflicts carry + Mutual faith and common trust; + Always he who most forgiveth in his brother is + most just. + + From the eternal shadow rounding + All our sun and starlight here, + Voices of our lost ones sounding + Bid us be of heart and cheer, + Through the silence, down the spaces, falling on + the inward ear. + + Know we not our dead are looking + Downward with a sad surprise, + All our strife of words rebuking + With their mild and loving eyes? + Shall we grieve the holy angels? Shall we cloud + their blessed skies? + + Let us draw their mantles o'er us + Which have fallen in our way; + Let us do the work before us, + Cheerly, bravely, while we may, + Ere the long night-silence cometh, and with us it is + not day! + + + + +THE BRANDED HAND. + +Captain Jonathan Walker, of Harwich, Mass., was solicited by several +fugitive slaves at Pensacola, Florida, to carry them in his vessel to +the British West Indies. Although well aware of the great hazard of the +enterprise he attempted to comply with the request, but was seized at +sea by an American vessel, consigned to the authorities at Key West, and +thence sent back to Pensacola, where, after a long and rigorous +confinement in prison, he was tried and sentenced to be branded on his +right hand with the letters "S.S." (slave-stealer) and amerced in a +heavy fine. + + WELCOME home again, brave seaman! with thy + thoughtful brow and gray, + And the old heroic spirit of our earlier, better day; + With that front of calm endurance, on whose + steady nerve in vain + Pressed the iron of the prison, smote the fiery + shafts of pain. + + Is the tyrant's brand upon thee? Did the brutal + cravens aim + To make God's truth thy falsehood, His holiest + work thy shame? + When, all blood-quenched, from the torture the + iron was withdrawn, + How laughed their evil angel the baffled fools to + scorn! + + They change to wrong the duty which God hath + written out + On the great heart of humanity, too legible for + doubt! + They, the loathsome moral lepers, blotched from + footsole up to crown, + Give to shame what God hath given unto honor + and renown! + + Why, that brand is highest honor! than its traces + never yet + Upon old armorial hatchments was a prouder blazon + set; + And thy unborn generations, as they tread our + rocky strand, + Shall tell with pride the story of their father's + branded hand! + + As the Templar home was welcome, bearing back- + from Syrian wars + The scars of Arab lances and of Paynim scimitars, + The pallor of the prison, and the shackle's crimson span, + So we meet thee, so we greet thee, truest friend of + God and man. + + He suffered for the ransom of the dear Redeemer's grave, + Thou for His living presence in the bound and + bleeding slave; + He for a soil no longer by the feet of angels trod, + Thou for the true Shechinah, the present home of God. + + For, while the jurist, sitting with the slave-whip + o'er him swung, + From the tortured truths of freedom the lie of + slavery wrung, + And the solemn priest to Moloch, on each God- + deserted shrine, + Broke the bondman's heart for bread, poured the + bondman's blood for wine; + + While the multitude in blindness to a far-off Saviour + knelt, + And spurned, the while, the temple where a present + Saviour dwelt; + Thou beheld'st Him in the task-field, in the prison + shadows dim, + And thy mercy to the bondman, it was mercy unto Him! + + In thy lone and long night-watches, sky above and + wave below, + Thou didst learn a higher wisdom than the babbling + schoolmen know; + God's stars and silence taught thee, as His angels + only can, + That the one sole sacred thing beneath the cope of + heaven is Man! + + That he who treads profanely on the scrolls of law + and creed, + In the depth of God's great goodness may find + mercy in his need; + But woe to him who crushes the soul with chain + and rod, + And herds with lower natures the awful form of God! + + Then lift that manly right-hand, bold ploughman + of the wave! + Its branded palm shall prophesy, "Salvation to + the Slave!" + Hold up its fire-wrought language, that whoso + reads may feel + His heart swell strong within him, his sinews + change to steel. + + Hold it up before our sunshine, up against our + Northern air; + Ho! men of Massachusetts, for the love of God, + look there! + Take it henceforth for your standard, like the + Bruce's heart of yore, + In the dark strife closing round ye, let that hand + be seen before! + + And the masters of the slave-land shall tremble at + that sign, + When it points its finger Southward along the + Puritan line + Can the craft of State avail them? Can a Christless + church withstand, + In the van of Freedom's onset, the coming of that + band? + + 1846. + + + + +THE FREED ISLANDS. + +Written for the anniversary celebration of the first of August, +at Milton, 7846. + + A FEW brief years have passed away + Since Britain drove her million slaves + Beneath the tropic's fiery ray + God willed their freedom; and to-day + Life blooms above those island graves! + + He spoke! across the Carib Sea, + We heard the clash of breaking chains, + And felt the heart-throb of the free, + The first, strong pulse of liberty + Which thrilled along the bondman's veins. + + Though long delayed, and far, and slow, + The Briton's triumph shall be ours + Wears slavery here a prouder brow + Than that which twelve short years ago + Scowled darkly from her island bowers? + + Mighty alike for good or ill + With mother-land, we fully share + The Saxon strength, the nerve of steel, + The tireless energy of will, + The power to do, the pride to dare. + + What she has done can we not do? + Our hour and men are both at hand; + The blast which Freedom's angel blew + O'er her green islands, echoes through + Each valley of our forest land. + + Hear it, old Europe! we have sworn + The death of slavery. When it falls, + Look to your vassals in their turn, + Your poor dumb millions, crushed and worn, + Your prisons and your palace walls! + + O kingly mockers! scoffing show + What deeds in Freedom's name we do; + Yet know that every taunt ye throw + Across the waters, goads our slow + Progression towards the right and true. + + Not always shall your outraged poor, + Appalled by democratic crime, + Grind as their fathers ground before; + The hour which sees our prison door + Swing wide shall be their triumph time. + + On then, my brothers! every blow + Ye deal is felt the wide earth through; + Whatever here uplifts the low + Or humbles Freedom's hateful foe, + Blesses the Old World through the New. + + Take heart! The promised hour draws near; + I hear the downward beat of wings, + And Freedom's trumpet sounding clear + "Joy to the people! woe and fear + To new-world tyrants, old-world kings!" + + + + +A LETTER. + +Supposed to be written by the chairman of the "Central Clique" at +Concord, N. H., to the Hon. M. N., Jr., at Washington, giving the result +of the election. The following verses were published in the Boston +Chronotype in 1846. They refer to the contest in New Hampshire, which +resulted in the defeat of the pro-slavery Democracy, and in the election +of John P. Hale to the United States Senate. Although their authorship +was not acknowledged, it was strongly suspected. They furnish a specimen +of the way, on the whole rather good-natured, in which the +liberty-lovers of half a century ago answered the social and political +outlawry and mob violence to which they were subjected. + + 'T is over, Moses! All is lost + I hear the bells a-ringing; + Of Pharaoh and his Red Sea host + I hear the Free-Wills singing (4) + We're routed, Moses, horse and foot, + If there be truth in figures, + With Federal Whigs in hot pursuit, + And Hale, and all the "niggers." + + Alack! alas! this month or more + We've felt a sad foreboding; + Our very dreams the burden bore + Of central cliques exploding; + Before our eyes a furnace shone, + Where heads of dough were roasting, + And one we took to be your own + The traitor Hale was toasting! + + Our Belknap brother (5) heard with awe + The Congo minstrels playing; + At Pittsfield Reuben Leavitt (6) saw + The ghost of Storrs a-praying; + And Calroll's woods were sad to see, + With black-winged crows a-darting; + And Black Snout looked on Ossipee, + New-glossed with Day and Martin. + + We thought the "Old Man of the Notch" + His face seemed changing wholly-- + His lips seemed thick; his nose seemed flat; + His misty hair looked woolly; + And Coos teamsters, shrieking, fled + From the metamorphosed figure. + "Look there!" they said, "the Old Stone Head + Himself is turning nigger!" + + The schoolhouse, out of Canaan hauled + Seemed turning on its track again, + And like a great swamp-turtle crawled + To Canaan village back again, + Shook off the mud and settled flat + Upon its underpinning; + A nigger on its ridge-pole sat, + From ear to ear a-grinning. + + Gray H----d heard o' nights the sound + Of rail-cars onward faring; + Right over Democratic ground + The iron horse came tearing. + A flag waved o'er that spectral train, + As high as Pittsfield steeple; + Its emblem was a broken chain; + Its motto: "To the people!" + + I dreamed that Charley took his bed, + With Hale for his physician; + His daily dose an old "unread + And unreferred" petition. (8) + There Hayes and Tuck as nurses sat, + As near as near could be, man; + They leeched him with the "Democrat;" + They blistered with the "Freeman." + + Ah! grisly portents! What avail + Your terrors of forewarning? + We wake to find the nightmare Hale + Astride our breasts at morning! + From Portsmouth lights to Indian stream + Our foes their throats are trying; + The very factory-spindles seem + To mock us while they're flying. + + The hills have bonfires; in our streets + Flags flout us in our faces; + The newsboys, peddling off their sheets, + Are hoarse with our disgraces. + In vain we turn, for gibing wit + And shoutings follow after, + As if old Kearsarge had split + His granite sides with laughter. + + What boots it that we pelted out + The anti-slavery women, (9) + And bravely strewed their hall about + With tattered lace and trimming? + Was it for such a sad reverse + Our mobs became peacemakers, + And kept their tar and wooden horse + For Englishmen and Quakers? + + For this did shifty Atherton + Make gag rules for the Great House? + Wiped we for this our feet upon + Petitions in our State House? + Plied we for this our axe of doom, + No stubborn traitor sparing, + Who scoffed at our opinion loom, + And took to homespun wearing? + + Ah, Moses! hard it is to scan + These crooked providences, + Deducing from the wisest plan + The saddest consequences! + Strange that, in trampling as was meet + The nigger-men's petition, + We sprang a mine beneath our feet + Which opened up perdition. + + How goodly, Moses, was the game + In which we've long been actors, + Supplying freedom with the name + And slavery with the practice + Our smooth words fed the people's mouth, + Their ears our party rattle; + We kept them headed to the South, + As drovers do their cattle. + + But now our game of politics + The world at large is learning; + And men grown gray in all our tricks + State's evidence are turning. + Votes and preambles subtly spun + They cram with meanings louder, + And load the Democratic gun + With abolition powder. + + The ides of June! Woe worth the day + When, turning all things over, + The traitor Hale shall make his hay + From Democratic clover! + Who then shall take him in the law, + Who punish crime so flagrant? + Whose hand shall serve, whose pen shall draw, + A writ against that "vagrant"? + + Alas! no hope is left us here, + And one can only pine for + The envied place of overseer + Of slaves in Carolina! + Pray, Moses, give Calhoun the wink, + And see what pay he's giving! + We've practised long enough, we think, + To know the art of driving. + + And for the faithful rank and file, + Who know their proper stations, + Perhaps it may be worth their while + To try the rice plantations. + Let Hale exult, let Wilson scoff, + To see us southward scamper; + The slaves, we know, are "better off + Than laborers in New Hampshire!" + + + + +LINES FROM A LETTER TO A YOUNG CLERICAL FRIEND. + + A STRENGTH Thy service cannot tire, + A faith which doubt can never dim, + A heart of love, a lip of fire, + O Freedom's God! be Thou to him! + + Speak through him words of power and fear, + As through Thy prophet bards of old, + And let a scornful people hear + Once more Thy Sinai-thunders rolled. + + For lying lips Thy blessing seek, + And hands of blood are raised to Thee, + And On Thy children, crushed and weak, + The oppressor plants his kneeling knee. + + Let then, O God! Thy servant dare + Thy truth in all its power to tell, + Unmask the priestly thieves, and tear + The Bible from the grasp of hell! + + From hollow rite and narrow span + Of law and sect by Thee released, + Oh, teach him that the Christian man + Is holier than the Jewish priest. + + Chase back the shadows, gray and old, + Of the dead ages, from his way, + And let his hopeful eyes behold + The dawn of Thy millennial day; + + That day when fettered limb and mind + Shall know the truth which maketh free, + And he alone who loves his kind + Shall, childlike, claim the love of Thee! + + + + +DANIEL NEALL. + +Dr. Neall, a worthy disciple of that venerated philanthropist, Warner +Mifflin, whom the Girondist statesman, Jean Pierre Brissot, pronounced +"an angel of mercy, the best man he ever knew," was one of the noble +band of Pennsylvania abolitionists, whose bravery was equalled only by +their gentleness and tenderness. He presided at the great anti-slavery +meeting in Pennsylvania Hall, May 17, 1838, when the Hall was surrounded +by a furious mob. I was standing near him while the glass of the windows +broken by missiles showered over him, and a deputation from the rioters +forced its way to the platform, and demanded that the meeting should be +closed at once. Dr. Neall drew up his tall form to its utmost height. "I +am here," he said, "the president of this meeting, and I will be torn in +pieces before I leave my place at your dictation. Go back to those who +sent you. I shall do my duty." Some years after, while visiting his +relatives in his native State of Delaware, he was dragged from the house +of his friends by a mob of slave-holders and brutally maltreated. He +bore it like a martyr of the old times; and when released, told his +persecutors that he forgave them, for it was not they but Slavery which +had done the wrong. If they should ever be in Philadelphia and needed +hospitality or aid, let them call on him. + + I. + FRIEND of the Slave, and yet the friend of all; + Lover of peace, yet ever foremost when + The need of battling Freedom called for men + To plant the banner on the outer wall; + Gentle and kindly, ever at distress + Melted to more than woman's tenderness, + Yet firm and steadfast, at his duty's post + Fronting the violence of a maddened host, + Like some gray rock from which the waves are + tossed! + Knowing his deeds of love, men questioned not + The faith of one whose walk and word were + right; + Who tranquilly in Life's great task-field wrought, + And, side by side with evil, scarcely caught + A stain upon his pilgrim garb of white + Prompt to redress another's wrong, his own + Leaving to Time and Truth and Penitence alone. + + II. + Such was our friend. Formed on the good old plan, + A true and brave and downright honest man + He blew no trumpet in the market-place, + Nor in the church with hypocritic face + Supplied with cant the lack of Christian grace; + Loathing pretence, he did with cheerful will + What others talked of while their hands were still; + And, while "Lord, Lord!" the pious tyrants cried, + Who, in the poor, their Master crucified, + His daily prayer, far better understood + In acts than words, was simply doing good. + So calm, so constant was his rectitude, + That by his loss alone we know its worth, + And feel how true a man has walked with us on earth. + + 6th, 6th month, 1846. + + + + +SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT. + +"Sebah, Oasis of Fezzan, 10th March, 1846.--This evening the female +slaves were unusually excited in singing, and I had the curiosity to ask +my negro servant, Said, what they were singing about. As many of them +were natives of his own country, he had no difficulty in translating the +Mandara or Bornou language. I had often asked the Moors to translate +their songs for me, but got no satisfactory account from them. Said at +first said, 'Oh, they sing of Rubee' (God). 'What do you mean?' I +replied, impatiently. 'Oh, don't you know?' he continued, 'they asked +God to give them their Atka?' (certificate of freedom). I inquired, 'Is +that all?' Said: 'No; they say, "Where are we going? The world is large. +O God! Where are we going? O God!"' I inquired, 'What else?' Said: 'They +remember their country, Bornou, and say, "Bornou was a pleasant country, +full of all good things; but this is a bad country, and we are +miserable!"' 'Do they say anything else?' Said: 'No; they repeat these +words over and over again, and add, "O God! give us our Atka, and let us +return again to our dear home."' + +"I am not surprised I got little satisfaction when I asked the Moors +about the songs of their slaves. Who will say that the above words are +not a very appropriate song? What could have been more congenially +adapted to their then woful condition? It is not to be wondered at that +these poor bondwomen cheer up their hearts, in their long, lonely, and +painful wanderings over the desert, with words and sentiments like +these; but I have often observed that their fatigue and sufferings were +too great for them to strike up this melancholy dirge, and many days +their plaintive strains never broke over the silence of the desert."-- +Richardson's Journal in Africa. + + WHERE are we going? where are we going, + Where are we going, Rubee? + Lord of peoples, lord of lands, + Look across these shining sands, + Through the furnace of the noon, + Through the white light of the moon. + Strong the Ghiblee wind is blowing, + Strange and large the world is growing! + Speak and tell us where we are going, + Where are we going, Rubee? + + Bornou land was rich and good, + Wells of water, fields of food, + Dourra fields, and bloom of bean, + And the palm-tree cool and green + Bornou land we see no longer, + Here we thirst and here we hunger, + Here the Moor-man smites in anger + Where are we going, Rubee? + + When we went from Bornou land, + We were like the leaves and sand, + We were many, we are few; + Life has one, and death has two + Whitened bones our path are showing, + Thou All-seeing, thou All-knowing + Hear us, tell us, where are we going, + Where are we going, Rubee? + + Moons of marches from our eyes + Bornou land behind us lies; + Stranger round us day by day + Bends the desert circle gray; + Wild the waves of sand are flowing, + Hot the winds above them blowing,-- + Lord of all things! where are we going? + Where are we going, Rubee? + + We are weak, but Thou art strong; + Short our lives, but Thine is long; + We are blind, but Thou hast eyes; + We are fools, but Thou art wise! + Thou, our morrow's pathway knowing + Through the strange world round us growing, + Hear us, tell us where are we going, + Where are we going, Rubee? + + 1847. + + + + +TO DELAWARE. + +Written during the discussion in the Legislature of that State, in the +winter of 1846-47, of a bill for the abolition of slavery. + + THRICE welcome to thy sisters of the East, + To the strong tillers of a rugged home, + With spray-wet locks to Northern winds released, + And hardy feet o'erswept by ocean's foam; + And to the young nymphs of the golden West, + Whose harvest mantles, fringed with prairie bloom, + Trail in the sunset,--O redeemed and blest, + To the warm welcome of thy sisters come! + Broad Pennsylvania, down her sail-white bay + Shall give thee joy, and Jersey from her plains, + And the great lakes, where echo, free alway, + Moaned never shoreward with the clank of chains, + Shall weave new sun-bows in their tossing spray, + And all their waves keep grateful holiday. + And, smiling on thee through her mountain rains, + Vermont shall bless thee; and the granite peaks, + And vast Katahdin o'er his woods, shall wear + Their snow-crowns brighter in the cold, keen air; + And Massachusetts, with her rugged cheeks + O'errun with grateful tears, shall turn to thee, + When, at thy bidding, the electric wire + Shall tremble northward with its words of fire; + Glory and praise to God! another State is free! + + 1847. + + + + +YORKTOWN. + +Dr. Thacher, surgeon in Scammel's regiment, in his description of the +siege of Yorktown, says: "The labor on the Virginia plantations is +performed altogether by a species of the human race cruelly wrested from +their native country, and doomed to perpetual bondage, while their +masters are manfully contending for freedom and the natural rights of +man. Such is the inconsistency of human nature." Eighteen hundred slaves +were found at Yorktown, after its surrender, and restored to their +masters. Well was it said by Dr. Barnes, in his late work on Slavery: +"No slave was any nearer his freedom after the surrender of Yorktown +than when Patrick Henry first taught the notes of liberty to echo among +the hills and vales of Virginia." + + FROM Yorktown's ruins, ranked and still, + Two lines stretch far o'er vale and hill + Who curbs his steed at head of one? + Hark! the low murmur: Washington! + Who bends his keen, approving glance, + Where down the gorgeous line of France + Shine knightly star and plume of snow? + Thou too art victor, Rochambeau! + The earth which bears this calm array + Shook with the war-charge yesterday, + + Ploughed deep with hurrying hoof and wheel, + Shot-sown and bladed thick with steel; + October's clear and noonday sun + Paled in the breath-smoke of the gun, + And down night's double blackness fell, + Like a dropped star, the blazing shell. + + Now all is hushed: the gleaming lines + Stand moveless as the neighboring pines; + While through them, sullen, grim, and slow, + The conquered hosts of England go + O'Hara's brow belies his dress, + Gay Tarleton's troop rides bannerless: + Shout, from thy fired and wasted homes, + Thy scourge, Virginia, captive comes! + + Nor thou alone; with one glad voice + Let all thy sister States rejoice; + Let Freedom, in whatever clime + She waits with sleepless eye her time, + Shouting from cave and mountain wood + Make glad her desert solitude, + While they who hunt her quail with fear; + The New World's chain lies broken here! + + But who are they, who, cowering, wait + Within the shattered fortress gate? + Dark tillers of Virginia's soil, + Classed with the battle's common spoil, + With household stuffs, and fowl, and swine, + With Indian weed and planters' wine, + With stolen beeves, and foraged corn,-- + Are they not men, Virginian born? + + Oh, veil your faces, young and brave! + Sleep, Scammel, in thy soldier grave + Sons of the Northland, ye who set + Stout hearts against the bayonet, + And pressed with steady footfall near + The moated battery's blazing tier, + Turn your scarred faces from the sight, + Let shame do homage to the right! + + Lo! fourscore years have passed; and where + The Gallic bugles stirred the air, + And, through breached batteries, side by side, + To victory stormed the hosts allied, + And brave foes grounded, pale with pain, + The arms they might not lift again, + As abject as in that old day + The slave still toils his life away. + + Oh, fields still green and fresh in story, + Old days of pride, old names of glory, + Old marvels of the tongue and pen, + Old thoughts which stirred the hearts of men, + Ye spared the wrong; and over all + Behold the avenging shadow fall! + Your world-wide honor stained with shame,-- + Your freedom's self a hollow name! + + Where's now the flag of that old war? + Where flows its stripe? Where burns its star? + Bear witness, Palo Alto's day, + Dark Vale of Palms, red Monterey, + Where Mexic Freedom, young and weak, + Fleshes the Northern eagle's beak; + Symbol of terror and despair, + Of chains and slaves, go seek it there! + + Laugh, Prussia, midst thy iron ranks + Laugh, Russia, from thy Neva's banks! + Brave sport to see the fledgling born + Of Freedom by its parent torn! + Safe now is Speilberg's dungeon cell, + Safe drear Siberia's frozen hell + With Slavery's flag o'er both unrolled, + What of the New World fears the Old? + + 1847. + + + + +RANDOLPH OF ROANOKE. + + O MOTHER EARTH! upon thy lap + Thy weary ones receiving, + And o'er them, silent as a dream, + Thy grassy mantle weaving, + Fold softly in thy long embrace + That heart so worn and broken, + And cool its pulse of fire beneath + Thy shadows old and oaken. + + Shut out from him the bitter word + And serpent hiss of scorning; + Nor let the storms of yesterday + Disturb his quiet morning. + Breathe over him forgetfulness + Of all save deeds of kindness, + And, save to smiles of grateful eyes, + Press down his lids in blindness. + + There, where with living ear and eye + He heard Potomac's flowing, + And, through his tall ancestral trees, + Saw autumn's sunset glowing, + He sleeps, still looking to the west, + Beneath the dark wood shadow, + As if he still would see the sun + Sink down on wave and meadow. + + Bard, Sage, and Tribune! in himself + All moods of mind contrasting,-- + The tenderest wail of human woe, + The scorn like lightning blasting; + The pathos which from rival eyes + Unwilling tears could summon, + The stinging taunt, the fiery burst + Of hatred scarcely human! + + Mirth, sparkling like a diamond shower, + From lips of life-long sadness; + Clear picturings of majestic thought + Upon a ground of madness; + And over all Romance and Song + A classic beauty throwing, + And laurelled Clio at his side + Her storied pages showing. + + All parties feared him: each in turn + Beheld its schemes disjointed, + As right or left his fatal glance + And spectral finger pointed. + Sworn foe of Cant, he smote it down + With trenchant wit unsparing, + And, mocking, rent with ruthless hand + The robe Pretence was wearing. + + Too honest or too proud to feign + A love he never cherished, + Beyond Virginia's border line + His patriotism perished. + While others hailed in distant skies + Our eagle's dusky pinion, + He only saw the mountain bird + Stoop o'er his Old Dominion! + + Still through each change of fortune strange, + Racked nerve, and brain all burning, + His loving faith in Mother-land + Knew never shade of turning; + By Britain's lakes, by Neva's tide, + Whatever sky was o'er him, + He heard her rivers' rushing sound, + Her blue peaks rose before him. + + He held his slaves, yet made withal + No false and vain pretences, + Nor paid a lying priest to seek + For Scriptural defences. + His harshest words of proud rebuke, + His bitterest taunt and scorning, + Fell fire-like on the Northern brow + That bent to him in fawning. + + He held his slaves; yet kept the while + His reverence for the Human; + In the dark vassals of his will + He saw but Man and Woman! + No hunter of God's outraged poor + His Roanoke valley entered; + No trader in the souls of men + Across his threshold ventured. + + And when the old and wearied man + Lay down for his last sleeping, + And at his side, a slave no more, + His brother-man stood weeping, + His latest thought, his latest breath, + To Freedom's duty giving, + With failing tengue and trembling hand + The dying blest the living. + + Oh, never bore his ancient State + A truer son or braver + None trampling with a calmer scorn + On foreign hate or favor. + He knew her faults, yet never stooped + His proud and manly feeling + To poor excuses of the wrong + Or meanness of concealing. + + But none beheld with clearer eye + The plague-spot o'er her spreading, + None heard more sure the steps of Doom + Along her future treading. + For her as for himself he spake, + When, his gaunt frame upbracing, + He traced with dying hand "Remorse!" + And perished in the tracing. + + As from the grave where Henry sleeps, + From Vernon's weeping willow, + And from the grassy pall which hides + The Sage of Monticello, + So from the leaf-strewn burial-stone + Of Randolph's lowly dwelling, + Virginia! o'er thy land of slaves + A warning voice is swelling! + + And hark! from thy deserted fields + Are sadder warnings spoken, + From quenched hearths, where thy exiled sons + Their household gods have broken. + The curse is on thee,--wolves for men, + And briers for corn-sheaves giving + Oh, more than all thy dead renown + Were now one hero living + + 1847. + + + + +THE LOST STATESMAN. + +Written on hearing of the death of Silas Wright of New York. + + + As they who, tossing midst the storm at night, + While turning shoreward, where a beacon shone, + Meet the walled blackness of the heaven alone, + So, on the turbulent waves of party tossed, + In gloom and tempest, men have seen thy light + Quenched in the darkness. At thy hour of noon, + While life was pleasant to thy undimmed sight, + And, day by day, within thy spirit grew + A holier hope than young Ambition knew, + As through thy rural quiet, not in vain, + Pierced the sharp thrill of Freedom's cry of pain, + Man of the millions, thou art lost too soon + Portents at which the bravest stand aghast,-- + The birth-throes of a Future, strange and vast, + Alarm the land; yet thou, so wise and strong, + Suddenly summoned to the burial bed, + Lapped in its slumbers deep and ever long, + Hear'st not the tumult surging overhead. + Who now shall rally Freedom's scattering host? + Who wear the mantle of the leader lost? + Who stay the march of slavery? He whose voice + Hath called thee from thy task-field shall not lack + Yet bolder champions, to beat bravely back + The wrong which, through his poor ones, reaches Him: + Yet firmer hands shall Freedom's torchlights trim, + And wave them high across the abysmal black, + Till bound, dumb millions there shall see them and rejoice. + + 10th mo., 1847. + + + + +THE SLAVES OF MARTINIQUE. + +Suggested by a daguerreotype taken from a small French engraving of two +negro figures, sent to the writer by Oliver Johnson. + + BEAMS of noon, like burning lances, through the + tree-tops flash and glisten, + As she stands before her lover, with raised face to + look and listen. + + Dark, but comely, like the maiden in the ancient + Jewish song + Scarcely has the toil of task-fields done her graceful + beauty wrong. + + He, the strong one and the manly, with the vassal's + garb and hue, + Holding still his spirit's birthright, to his higher + nature true; + + Hiding deep the strengthening purpose of a freeman + in his heart, + As the gregree holds his Fetich from the white + man's gaze apart. + + Ever foremost of his comrades, when the driver's + morning horn + Calls away to stifling mill-house, to the fields of + cane and corn. + + Fall the keen and burning lashes never on his back + or limb; + Scarce with look or word of censure, turns the + driver unto him. + + Yet, his brow is always thoughtful, and his eye is + hard and stern; + Slavery's last and humblest lesson he has never + deigned to learn. + + And, at evening, when his comrades dance before + their master's door, + Folding arms and knitting forehead, stands he + silent evermore. + + God be praised for every instinct which rebels + against a lot + Where the brute survives the human, and man's + upright form is not! + + As the serpent-like bejuco winds his spiral fold + on fold + Round the tall and stately ceiba, till it withers in + his hold; + + Slow decays the forest monarch, closer girds the + fell embrace, + Till the tree is seen no longer, and the vine is in + its place; + + So a base and bestial nature round the vassal's + manhood twines, + And the spirit wastes beneath it, like the ceiba + choked with vines. + + God is Love, saith the Evangel; and our world of + woe and sin + Is made light and happy only when a Love is + shining in. + + Ye whose lives are free as sunshine, finding, where- + soe'er ye roam, + Smiles of welcome, looks of kindness, making all + the world like home; + + In the veins of whose affections kindred blood is + but a part., + Of one kindly current throbbing from the universal + heart; + + Can ye know the deeper meaning of a love in Slavery + nursed, + Last flower of a lost Eden, blooming in that Soil + accursed? + + Love of Home, and Love of Woman!--dear to all, + but doubly dear + To the heart whose pulses elsewhere measure only + hate and fear. + + All around the desert circles, underneath a brazen + sky, + Only one green spot remaining where the dew is + never dry! + + From the horror of that desert, from its atmosphere + of hell, + Turns the fainting spirit thither, as the diver seeks + his bell. + + 'T is the fervid tropic noontime; faint and low the + sea-waves beat; + Hazy rise the inland mountains through the glimmer + of the heat,-- + + Where, through mingled leaves and blossoms, + arrowy sunbeams flash and glisten, + Speaks her lover to the slave-girl, and she lifts her + head to listen:-- + + "We shall live as slaves no longer! Freedom's + hour is close at hand! + Rocks her bark upon the waters, rests the boat + upon the strand! + + "I have seen the Haytien Captain; I have seen + his swarthy crew, + Haters of the pallid faces, to their race and color + true. + + "They have sworn to wait our coming till the night + has passed its noon, + And the gray and darkening waters roll above the + sunken moon!" + + Oh, the blessed hope of freedom! how with joy + and glad surprise, + For an instant throbs her bosom, for an instant + beam her eyes! + + But she looks across the valley, where her mother's + hut is seen, + Through the snowy bloom of coffee, and the lemon- + leaves so green. + + And she answers, sad and earnest: "It were wrong + for thee to stay; + God hath heard thy prayer for freedom, and his + finger points the way. + + "Well I know with what endurance, for the sake + of me and mine, + Thou hast borne too long a burden never meant + for souls like thine. + + "Go; and at the hour of midnight, when our last + farewell is o'er, + Kneeling on our place of parting, I will bless thee + from the shore. + + "But for me, my mother, lying on her sick-bed + all the day, + Lifts her weary head to watch me, coming through + the twilight gray. + + "Should I leave her sick and helpless, even freedom, + shared with thee, + Would be sadder far than bondage, lonely toil, and + stripes to me. + + "For my heart would die within me, and my brain + would soon be wild; + I should hear my mother calling through the twilight + for her child!" + + Blazing upward from the ocean, shines the sun of + morning-time, + Through the coffee-trees in blossom, and green + hedges of the lime. + + Side by side, amidst the slave-gang, toil the lover + and the maid; + Wherefore looks he o'er the waters, leaning forward + on his spade? + + Sadly looks he, deeply sighs he: 't is the Haytien's + sail he sees, + Like a white cloud of the mountains, driven seaward + by the breeze. + + But his arm a light hand presses, and he hears a + low voice call + Hate of Slavery, hope of Freedom, Love is mightier + than all. + + 1848. + + + + +THE CURSE OF THE CHARTER-BREAKERS. + +The rights and liberties affirmed by Magna Charta were deemed of such +importance, in the thirteenth century, that the Bishops, twice a year, +with tapers burning, and in their pontifical robes, pronounced, in the +presence of the king and the representatives of the estates of England, +the greater excommunication against the infringer of that instrument. +The imposing ceremony took place in the great Hall of Westminster. A +copy of the curse, as pronounced in 1253, declares that, "by the +authority of Almighty God, and the blessed Apostles and Martyrs, and all +the saints in heaven, all those who violate the English liberties, and +secretly or openly, by deed, word, or counsel, do make statutes, or +observe then being made, against said liberties, are accursed and +sequestered from the company of heaven and the sacraments of the Holy +Church." + +William Penn, in his admirable political pamphlet, England's +Present Interest Considered, alluding to the curse of the Charter- +breakers, says: "I am no Roman Catholic, and little value their +other curses; yet I declare I would not for the world incur this +curse, as every man deservedly doth, who offers violence to the +fundamental freedom thereby repeated and confirmed." + + IN Westminster's royal halls, + Robed in their pontificals, + England's ancient prelates stood + For the people's right and good. + Closed around the waiting crowd, + Dark and still, like winter's cloud; + King and council, lord and knight, + Squire and yeoman, stood in sight; + Stood to hear the priest rehearse, + In God's name, the Church's curse, + By the tapers round them lit, + Slowly, sternly uttering it. + + "Right of voice in framing laws, + Right of peers to try each cause; + Peasant homestead, mean and small, + Sacred as the monarch's hall,-- + + "Whoso lays his hand on these, + England's ancient liberties; + Whoso breaks, by word or deed, + England's vow at Runnymede; + + "Be he Prince or belted knight, + Whatsoe'er his rank or might, + If the highest, then the worst, + Let him live and die accursed. + + "Thou, who to Thy Church hast given + Keys alike, of hell and heaven, + Make our word and witness sure, + Let the curse we speak endure!" + + Silent, while that curse was said, + Every bare and listening head + Bowed in reverent awe, and then + All the people said, Amen! + + Seven times the bells have tolled, + For the centuries gray and old, + Since that stoled and mitred band + Cursed the tyrants of their land. + + Since the priesthood, like a tower, + Stood between the poor and power; + And the wronged and trodden down + Blessed the abbot's shaven crown. + + Gone, thank God, their wizard spell, + Lost, their keys of heaven and hell; + Yet I sigh for men as bold + As those bearded priests of old. + + Now, too oft the priesthood wait + At the threshold of the state; + Waiting for the beck and nod + Of its power as law and God. + + Fraud exults, while solemn words + Sanctify his stolen hoards; + Slavery laughs, while ghostly lips + Bless his manacles and whips. + + Not on them the poor rely, + Not to them looks liberty, + Who with fawning falsehood cower + To the wrong, when clothed with power. + + Oh, to see them meanly cling, + Round the master, round the king, + Sported with, and sold and bought,-- + Pitifuller sight is not! + + Tell me not that this must be + God's true priest is always free; + Free, the needed truth to speak, + Right the wronged, and raise the weak. + + Not to fawn on wealth and state, + Leaving Lazarus at the gate; + Not to peddle creeds like wares; + Not to mutter hireling prayers; + + Nor to paint the new life's bliss + On the sable ground of this; + Golden streets for idle knave, + Sabbath rest for weary slave! + + Not for words and works like these, + Priest of God, thy mission is; + But to make earth's desert glad, + In its Eden greenness clad; + + And to level manhood bring + Lord and peasant, serf and king; + And the Christ of God to find + In the humblest of thy kind! + + Thine to work as well as pray, + Clearing thorny wrongs away; + Plucking up the weeds of sin, + Letting heaven's warm sunshine in; + + Watching on the hills of Faith; + Listening what the spirit saith, + Of the dim-seen light afar, + Growing like a nearing star. + + God's interpreter art thou, + To the waiting ones below; + 'Twixt them and its light midway + Heralding the better day; + + Catching gleams of temple spires, + Hearing notes of angel choirs, + Where, as yet unseen of them, + Comes the New Jerusalem! + + Like the seer of Patmos gazing, + On the glory downward blazing; + Till upon Earth's grateful sod + Rests the City of our God! + + 1848. + + + + +PAEAN. + +This poem indicates the exultation of the anti-slavery party in view of +the revolt of the friends of Martin Van Buren in New York, from the +Democratic Presidential nomination in 1848. + + + Now, joy and thanks forevermore! + The dreary night has wellnigh passed, + The slumbers of the North are o'er, + The Giant stands erect at last! + + More than we hoped in that dark time + When, faint with watching, few and worn, + We saw no welcome day-star climb + The cold gray pathway of the morn! + + O weary hours! O night of years! + What storms our darkling pathway swept, + Where, beating back our thronging fears, + By Faith alone our march we kept. + + How jeered the scoffing crowd behind, + How mocked before the tyrant train, + As, one by one, the true and kind + Fell fainting in our path of pain! + + They died, their brave hearts breaking slow, + But, self-forgetful to the last, + In words of cheer and bugle blow + Their breath upon the darkness passed. + + A mighty host, on either hand, + Stood waiting for the dawn of day + To crush like reeds our feeble band; + The morn has come, and where are they? + + Troop after troop their line forsakes; + With peace-white banners waving free, + And from our own the glad shout breaks, + Of Freedom and Fraternity! + + Like mist before the growing light, + The hostile cohorts melt away; + Our frowning foemen of the night + Are brothers at the dawn of day. + + As unto these repentant ones + We open wide our toil-worn ranks, + Along our line a murmur runs + Of song, and praise, and grateful thanks. + + Sound for the onset! Blast on blast! + Till Slavery's minions cower and quail; + One charge of fire shall drive them fast + Like chaff before our Northern gale! + + O prisoners in your house of pain, + Dumb, toiling millions, bound and sold, + Look! stretched o'er Southern vale and plain, + The Lord's delivering hand behold! + + Above the tyrant's pride of power, + His iron gates and guarded wall, + The bolts which shattered Shinar's tower + Hang, smoking, for a fiercer fall. + + Awake! awake! my Fatherland! + It is thy Northern light that shines; + This stirring march of Freedom's band + The storm-song of thy mountain pines. + + Wake, dwellers where the day expires! + And hear, in winds that sweep your lakes + And fan your prairies' roaring fires, + The signal-call that Freedom makes! + + 1848. + + + + +THE CRISIS. + +Written on learning the terms of the treaty with Mexico. + + + ACROSS the Stony Mountains, o'er the desert's + drouth and sand, + The circles of our empire touch the western ocean's + strand; + From slumberous Timpanogos, to Gila, wild and + free, + Flowing down from Nuevo-Leon to California's sea; + And from the mountains of the east, to Santa + Rosa's shore, + The eagles of Mexitli shall beat the air no more. + + O Vale of Rio Bravo! Let thy simple children + weep; + Close watch about their holy fire let maids of + Pecos keep; + Let Taos send her cry across Sierra Madre's pines, + And Santa Barbara toll her bells amidst her corn + and vines; + For lo! the pale land-seekers come, with eager eyes + of gain, + Wide scattering, like the bison herds on broad + Salada's plain. + + Let Sacramento's herdsmen heed what sound the + winds bring down + Of footsteps on the crisping snow, from cold + Nevada's crown! + Full hot and fast the Saxon rides, with rein of + travel slack, + And, bending o'er his saddle, leaves the sunrise at + his back; + By many a lonely river, and gorge of fir and + pine, + On many a wintry hill-top, his nightly camp-fires + shine. + + O countrymen and brothers! that land of lake and + plain, + Of salt wastes alternating with valleys fat with + grain; + Of mountains white with winter, looking downward, + cold, serene, + On their feet with spring-vines tangled and lapped + in softest green; + Swift through whose black volcanic gates, o'er + many a sunny vale, + Wind-like the Arapahoe sweeps the bison's dusty + trail! + + Great spaces yet untravelled, great lakes whose + mystic shores + The Saxon rifle never heard, nor dip of Saxon oars; + Great herds that wander all unwatched, wild steeds + that none have tamed, + Strange fish in unknown streams, and birds the + Saxon never named; + Deep mines, dark mountain crucibles, where Nature's + chemic powers + Work out the Great Designer's will; all these ye + say are ours! + + Forever ours! for good or ill, on us the burden + lies; + God's balance, watched by angels, is hung across + the skies. + Shall Justice, Truth, and Freedom turn the poised + and trembling scale? + Or shall the Evil triumph, and robber Wrong prevail? + Shall the broad land o'er which our flag in starry + splendor waves, + Forego through us its freedom, and bear the tread + of slaves? + + The day is breaking in the East of which the + prophets told, + And brightens up the sky of Time the Christian + Age of Gold; + Old Might to Right is yielding, battle blade to + clerkly pen, + Earth's monarchs are her peoples, and her serfs + stand up as men; + + The isles rejoice together, in a day are nations + born, + And the slave walks free in Tunis, and by Stamboul's + Golden Horn! + + Is this, O countrymen of mine! a day for us to sow + The soil of new-gained empire with slavery's seeds + of woe? + To feed with our fresh life-blood the Old World's + cast-off crime, + Dropped, like some monstrous early birth, from + the tired lap of Time? + To run anew the evil race the old lost nations ran, + And die like them of unbelief of God, and wrong + of man? + + Great Heaven! Is this our mission? End in this + the prayers and tears, + The toil, the strife, the watchings of our younger, + better years? + Still as the Old World rolls in light, shall ours in + shadow turn, + A beamless Chaos, cursed of God, through outer + darkness borne? + Where the far nations looked for light, a black- + ness in the air? + Where for words of hope they listened, the long + wail of despair? + + The Crisis presses on us; face to face with us it + stands, + With solemn lips of question, like the Sphinx in + Egypt's sands! + This day we fashion Destiny, our web of Fate we + spin; + This day for all hereafter choose we holiness or + sin; + Even now from starry Gerizim, or Ebal's cloudy + crown, + We call the dews of blessing or the bolts of cursing + down! + + By all for which the martyrs bore their agony and + shame; + By all the warning words of truth with which the + prophets came; + By the Future which awaits us; by all the hopes + which cast + Their faint and trembling beams across the black- + ness of the Past; + And by the blessed thought of Him who for Earth's + freedom died, + O my people! O my brothers! let us choose the + righteous side. + + So shall the Northern pioneer go joyful on his + way; + To wed Penobseot's waters to San Francisco's bay; + To make the rugged places smooth, and sow the + vales with grain; + And bear, with Liberty and Law, the Bible in his + train + The mighty West shall bless the East, and sea shall + answer sea, + And mountain unto mountain call, Praise God, for + we are free + + 1845. + + + + +LINES ON THE PORTRAIT OF A CELEBRATED PUBLISHER. + + A pleasant print to peddle out + In lands of rice and cotton; + The model of that face in dough + Would make the artist's fortune. + For Fame to thee has come unsought, + While others vainly woo her, + In proof how mean a thing can make + A great man of its doer. + + + To whom shall men thyself compare, + Since common models fail 'em, + Save classic goose of ancient Rome, + Or sacred ass of Balaam? + The gabble of that wakeful goose + Saved Rome from sack of Brennus; + The braying of the prophet's ass + Betrayed the angel's menace! + + So when Guy Fawkes, in petticoats, + And azure-tinted hose oil, + Was twisting from thy love-lorn sheets + The slow-match of explosion-- + An earthquake blast that would have tossed + The Union as a feather, + Thy instinct saved a perilled land + And perilled purse together. + + Just think of Carolina's sage + Sent whirling like a Dervis, + Of Quattlebum in middle air + Performing strange drill-service! + Doomed like Assyria's lord of old, + Who fell before the Jewess, + Or sad Abimelech, to sigh, + "Alas! a woman slew us!" + + Thou saw'st beneath a fair disguise + The danger darkly lurking, + And maiden bodice dreaded more + Than warrior's steel-wrought jerkin. + How keen to scent the hidden plot! + How prompt wert thou to balk it, + With patriot zeal and pedler thrift, + For country and for pocket! + + Thy likeness here is doubtless well, + But higher honor's due it; + On auction-block and negro-jail + Admiring eyes should view it. + Or, hung aloft, it well might grace + The nation's senate-chamber-- + A greedy Northern bottle-fly + Preserved in Slavery's amber! + + 1850. + + + + +DERNE. + +The storming of the city of Derne, in 1805, by General Eaton, at the +head of nine Americans, forty Greeks, and a motley array of Turks and +Arabs, was one of those feats of hardihood and daring which have in all +ages attracted the admiration of the multitude. The higher and holier +heroism of Christian self-denial and sacrifice, in the humble walks of +private duty, is seldom so well appreciated. + + NIGHT on the city of the Moor! + On mosque and tomb, and white-walled shore, + On sea-waves, to whose ceaseless knock + The narrow harbor-gates unlock, + On corsair's galley, carack tall, + And plundered Christian caraval! + The sounds of Moslem life are still; + No mule-bell tinkles down the hill; + Stretched in the broad court of the khan, + The dusty Bornou caravan + Lies heaped in slumber, beast and man; + The Sheik is dreaming in his tent, + His noisy Arab tongue o'erspent; + The kiosk's glimmering lights are gone, + The merchant with his wares withdrawn; + Rough pillowed on some pirate breast, + The dancing-girl has sunk to rest; + And, save where measured footsteps fall + Along the Bashaw's guarded wall, + Or where, like some bad dream, the Jew + Creeps stealthily his quarter through, + Or counts with fear his golden heaps, + The City of the Corsair sleeps. + + But where yon prison long and low + Stands black against the pale star-glow, + Chafed by the ceaseless wash of waves, + There watch and pine the Christian slaves; + Rough-bearded men, whose far-off wives + Wear out with grief their lonely lives; + And youth, still flashing from his eyes + The clear blue of New England skies, + A treasured lock of whose soft hair + Now wakes some sorrowing mother's prayer; + Or, worn upon some maiden breast, + Stirs with the loving heart's unrest. + + A bitter cup each life must drain, + The groaning earth is cursed with pain, + And, like the scroll the angel bore + The shuddering Hebrew seer before, + O'erwrit alike, without, within, + With all the woes which follow sin; + But, bitterest of the ills beneath + Whose load man totters down to death, + Is that which plucks the regal crown + Of Freedom from his forehead down, + And snatches from his powerless hand + The sceptred sign of self-command, + Effacing with the chain and rod + The image and the seal of God; + Till from his nature, day by day, + The manly virtues fall away, + And leave him naked, blind and mute, + The godlike merging in the brute! + + Why mourn the quiet ones who die + Beneath affection's tender eye, + Unto their household and their kin + Like ripened corn-sheaves gathered in? + O weeper, from that tranquil sod, + That holy harvest-home of God, + Turn to the quick and suffering, shed + Thy tears upon the living dead + Thank God above thy dear ones' graves, + They sleep with Him, they are not slaves. + + What dark mass, down the mountain-sides + Swift-pouring, like a stream divides? + A long, loose, straggling caravan, + Camel and horse and armed man. + The moon's low crescent, glimmering o'er + Its grave of waters to the shore, + Lights tip that mountain cavalcade, + And gleams from gun and spear and blade + Near and more near! now o'er them falls + The shadow of the city walls. + Hark to the sentry's challenge, drowned + In the fierce trumpet's charging sound! + The rush of men, the musket's peal, + The short, sharp clang of meeting steel! + + Vain, Moslem, vain thy lifeblood poured + So freely on thy foeman's sword! + Not to the swift nor to the strong + The battles of the right belong; + For he who strikes for Freedom wears + The armor of the captive's prayers, + And Nature proffers to his cause + The strength of her eternal laws; + While he whose arm essays to bind + And herd with common brutes his kind + Strives evermore at fearful odds + With Nature and the jealous gods, + And dares the dread recoil which late + Or soon their right shall vindicate. + + 'T is done, the horned crescent falls + The star-flag flouts the broken walls + Joy to the captive husband! joy + To thy sick heart, O brown-locked boy! + In sullen wrath the conquered Moor + Wide open flings your dungeon-door, + And leaves ye free from cell and chain, + The owners of yourselves again. + Dark as his allies desert-born, + Soiled with the battle's stain, and worn + With the long marches of his band + Through hottest wastes of rock and sand, + Scorched by the sun and furnace-breath + Of the red desert's wind of death, + With welcome words and grasping hands, + The victor and deliverer stands! + + The tale is one of distant skies; + The dust of half a century lies + Upon it; yet its hero's name + Still lingers on the lips of Fame. + Men speak the praise of him who gave + Deliverance to the Moorman's slave, + Yet dare to brand with shame and crime + The heroes of our land and time,-- + The self-forgetful ones, who stake + Home, name, and life for Freedom's sake. + God mend his heart who cannot feel + The impulse of a holy zeal, + And sees not, with his sordid eyes, + The beauty of self-sacrifice + Though in the sacred place he stands, + Uplifting consecrated hands, + Unworthy are his lips to tell + Of Jesus' martyr-miracle, + Or name aright that dread embrace + Of suffering for a fallen race! + + 1850. + + + + +A SABBATH SCENE. + +This poem finds its justification in the readiness with which, even in +the North, clergymen urged the prompt execution of the Fugitive Slave +Law as a Christian duty, and defended the system of slavery as a Bible +institution. + + + SCARCE had the solemn Sabbath-bell + Ceased quivering in the steeple, + Scarce had the parson to his desk + Walked stately through his people, + When down the summer-shaded street + A wasted female figure, + With dusky brow and naked feet, + + Came rushing wild and eager. + She saw the white spire through the trees, + She heard the sweet hymn swelling + O pitying Christ! a refuge give + That poor one in Thy dwelling! + + Like a scared fawn before the hounds, + Right up the aisle she glided, + While close behind her, whip in hand, + A lank-haired hunter strided. + + She raised a keen and bitter cry, + To Heaven and Earth appealing; + Were manhood's generous pulses dead? + Had woman's heart no feeling? + + A score of stout hands rose between + The hunter and the flying: + Age clenched his staff, and maiden eyes + Flashed tearful, yet defying. + + "Who dares profane this house and day?" + Cried out the angry pastor. + "Why, bless your soul, the wench's a slave, + And I'm her lord and master! + + "I've law and gospel on my side, + And who shall dare refuse me?" + Down came the parson, bowing low, + "My good sir, pray excuse me! + + "Of course I know your right divine + To own and work and whip her; + Quick, deacon, throw that Polyglott + Before the wench, and trip her!" + + Plump dropped the holy tome, and o'er + Its sacred pages stumbling, + Bound hand and foot, a slave once more, + The hapless wretch lay trembling. + + I saw the parson tie the knots, + The while his flock addressing, + The Scriptural claims of slavery + With text on text impressing. + + "Although," said he, "on Sabbath day + All secular occupations + Are deadly sins, we must fulfil + Our moral obligations: + + "And this commends itself as one + To every conscience tender; + As Paul sent back Onesimus, + My Christian friends, we send her!" + + Shriek rose on shriek,--the Sabbath air + Her wild cries tore asunder; + I listened, with hushed breath, to hear + God answering with his thunder! + + All still! the very altar's cloth + Had smothered down her shrieking, + And, dumb, she turned from face to face, + For human pity seeking! + + I saw her dragged along the aisle, + Her shackles harshly clanking; + I heard the parson, over all, + The Lord devoutly thanking! + + My brain took fire: "Is this," I cried, + "The end of prayer and preaching? + Then down with pulpit, down with priest, + And give us Nature's teaching! + + "Foul shame and scorn be on ye all + Who turn the good to evil, + And steal the Bible, from the Lord, + To give it to the Devil! + + "Than garbled text or parchment law + I own a statute higher; + And God is true, though every book + And every man's a liar!" + + Just then I felt the deacon's hand + In wrath my coattail seize on; + I heard the priest cry, "Infidel!" + The lawyer mutter, "Treason!" + + I started up,--where now were church, + Slave, master, priest, and people? + I only heard the supper-bell, + Instead of clanging steeple. + + But, on the open window's sill, + O'er which the white blooms drifted, + The pages of a good old Book + The wind of summer lifted, + + And flower and vine, like angel wings + Around the Holy Mother, + Waved softly there, as if God's truth + And Mercy kissed each other. + + And freely from the cherry-bough + Above the casement swinging, + With golden bosom to the sun, + The oriole was singing. + + As bird and flower made plain of old + The lesson of the Teacher, + So now I heard the written Word + Interpreted by Nature. + + For to my ear methought the breeze + Bore Freedom's blessed word on; + Thus saith the Lord: Break every yoke, + Undo the heavy burden + + 1850. + + + + +IN THE EVIL DAYS. + +This and the four following poems have special reference to that darkest +hour in the aggression of slavery which preceded the dawn of a better +day, when the conscience of the people was roused to action. + + + THE evil days have come, the poor + Are made a prey; + Bar up the hospitable door, + Put out the fire-lights, point no more + The wanderer's way. + + For Pity now is crime; the chain + Which binds our States + Is melted at her hearth in twain, + Is rusted by her tears' soft rain + Close up her gates. + + Our Union, like a glacier stirred + By voice below, + Or bell of kine, or wing of bird, + A beggar's crust, a kindly word + May overthrow! + + Poor, whispering tremblers! yet we boast + Our blood and name; + Bursting its century-bolted frost, + Each gray cairn on the Northman's coast + Cries out for shame! + + Oh for the open firmament, + The prairie free, + The desert hillside, cavern-rent, + The Pawnee's lodge, the Arab's tent, + The Bushman's tree! + + Than web of Persian loom most rare, + Or soft divan, + Better the rough rock, bleak and bare, + Or hollow tree, which man may share + With suffering man. + + I hear a voice: "Thus saith the Law, + Let Love be dumb; + Clasping her liberal hands in awe, + Let sweet-lipped Charity withdraw + From hearth and home." + + I hear another voice: "The poor + Are thine to feed; + Turn not the outcast from thy door, + Nor give to bonds and wrong once more + Whom God hath freed." + + Dear Lord! between that law and Thee + No choice remains; + Yet not untrue to man's decree, + Though spurning its rewards, is he + Who bears its pains. + + Not mine Sedition's trumpet-blast + And threatening word; + I read the lesson of the Past, + That firm endurance wins at last + More than the sword. + + O clear-eyed Faith, and Patience thou + So calm and strong! + Lend strength to weakness, teach us how + The sleepless eyes of God look through + This night of wrong. + + 1850. + + + + +MOLOCH IN STATE STREET. + +In a foot-note of the Report of the Senate of Massachusetts on the case +of the arrest and return to bondage of the fugitive slave Thomas Sims it +is stated that--"It would have been impossible for the U. S. marshal +thus successfully to have resisted the law of the State, without the +assistance of the municipal authorities of Boston, and the countenance +and support of a numerous, wealthy, and powerful body of citizens. It +was in evidence that 1500 of the most wealthy and respectable +citizens-merchants, bankers, and others--volunteered their services to +aid the marshal on this occasion. . . . No watch was kept upon the +doings of the marshal, and while the State officers slept, after the +moon had gone down, in the darkest hour before daybreak, the accused was +taken out of our jurisdiction by the armed police of the city of +Boston." + + THE moon has set: while yet the dawn + Breaks cold and gray, + Between the midnight and the morn + Bear off your prey! + + On, swift and still! the conscious street + Is panged and stirred; + Tread light! that fall of serried feet + The dead have heard! + + The first drawn blood of Freedom's veins + Gushed where ye tread; + Lo! through the dusk the martyr-stains + Blush darkly red! + + Beneath the slowly waning stars + And whitening day, + What stern and awful presence bars + That sacred way? + + What faces frown upon ye, dark + With shame and pain? + Come these from Plymouth's Pilgrim bark? + Is that young Vane? + + Who, dimly beckoning, speed ye on + With mocking cheer? + Lo! spectral Andros, Hutchinson, + And Gage are here! + + For ready mart or favoring blast + Through Moloch's fire, + Flesh of his flesh, unsparing, passed + The Tyrian sire. + + Ye make that ancient sacrifice + Of Mail to Gain, + Your traffic thrives, where Freedom dies, + Beneath the chain. + + Ye sow to-day; your harvest, scorn + And hate, is near; + How think ye freemen, mountain-born, + The tale will hear? + + Thank God! our mother State can yet + Her fame retrieve; + To you and to your children let + The scandal cleave. + + Chain Hall and Pulpit, Court and Press, + Make gods of gold; + Let honor, truth, and manliness + Like wares be sold. + + Your hoards are great, your walls are strong, + But God is just; + The gilded chambers built by wrong + Invite the rust. + + What! know ye not the gains of Crime + Are dust and dross; + Its ventures on the waves of time + Foredoomed to loss! + + And still the Pilgrim State remains + What she hath been; + Her inland hills, her seaward plains, + Still nurture men! + + Nor wholly lost the fallen mart; + Her olden blood + Through many a free and generous heart + Still pours its flood. + + That brave old blood, quick-flowing yet, + Shall know no check, + Till a free people's foot is set + On Slavery's neck. + + Even now, the peal of bell and gun, + And hills aflame, + Tell of the first great triumph won + In Freedom's name. (10) + + The long night dies: the welcome gray + Of dawn we see; + Speed up the heavens thy perfect day, + God of the free! + + 1851. + + + + +OFFICIAL PIETY. + +Suggested by reading a state paper, wherein the higher law is invoked to +sustain the lower one. + + + A Pious magistrate! sound his praise throughout + The wondering churches. Who shall henceforth doubt + That the long-wished millennium draweth nigh? + Sin in high places has become devout, + Tithes mint, goes painful-faced, and prays its lie + Straight up to Heaven, and calls it piety! + The pirate, watching from his bloody deck + The weltering galleon, heavy with the gold + Of Acapulco, holding death in check + While prayers are said, brows crossed, and beads are told; + The robber, kneeling where the wayside cross + On dark Abruzzo tells of life's dread loss + From his own carbine, glancing still abroad + For some new victim, offering thanks to God! + Rome, listening at her altars to the cry + Of midnight Murder, while her hounds of hell + Scour France, from baptized cannon and holy bell + And thousand-throated priesthood, loud and high, + Pealing Te Deums to the shuddering sky, + "Thanks to the Lord, who giveth victory!" + What prove these, but that crime was ne'er so black + As ghostly cheer and pious thanks to lack? + Satan is modest. At Heaven's door he lays + His evil offspring, and, in Scriptural phrase + And saintly posture, gives to God the praise + And honor of the monstrous progeny. + What marvel, then, in our own time to see + His old devices, smoothly acted o'er,-- + Official piety, locking fast the door + Of Hope against three million soups of men,-- + Brothers, God's children, Christ's redeemed,--and then, + With uprolled eyeballs and on bended knee, + Whining a prayer for help to hide the key! + + 1853. + + + + +THE RENDITION. + +On the 2d of June, 1854, Anthony Burns, a fugitive slave from Virginia, +after being under arrest for ten days in the Boston Court House, was +remanded to slavery under the Fugitive Slave Act, and taken down State +Street to a steamer chartered by the United States Government, under +guard of United States troops and artillery, Massachusetts militia and +Boston police. Public excitement ran high, a futile attempt to rescue +Burns having been made during his confinement, and the streets were +crowded with tens of thousands of people, of whom many came from other +towns and cities of the State to witness the humiliating spectacle. + + + I HEARD the train's shrill whistle call, + I saw an earnest look beseech, + And rather by that look than speech + My neighbor told me all. + + And, as I thought of Liberty + Marched handcuffed down that sworded street, + The solid earth beneath my feet + Reeled fluid as the sea. + + I felt a sense of bitter loss,-- + Shame, tearless grief, and stifling wrath, + And loathing fear, as if my path + A serpent stretched across. + + All love of home, all pride of place, + All generous confidence and trust, + Sank smothering in that deep disgust + And anguish of disgrace. + + Down on my native hills of June, + And home's green quiet, hiding all, + Fell sudden darkness like the fall + Of midnight upon noon. + + And Law, an unloosed maniac, strong, + Blood-drunken, through the blackness trod, + Hoarse-shouting in the ear of God + The blasphemy of wrong. + + "O Mother, from thy memories proud, + Thy old renown, dear Commonwealth, + Lend this dead air a breeze of health, + And smite with stars this cloud. + + "Mother of Freedom, wise and brave, + Rise awful in thy strength," I said; + Ah me! I spake but to the dead; + I stood upon her grave! + + 6th mo., 1854. + + + + +ARISEN AT LAST. + +On the passage of the bill to protect the rights and liberties of the +people of the State against the Fugitive Slave Act. + + + I SAID I stood upon thy grave, + My Mother State, when last the moon + Of blossoms clomb the skies of June. + + And, scattering ashes on my head, + I wore, undreaming of relief, + The sackcloth of thy shame and grief. + + Again that moon of blossoms shines + On leaf and flower and folded wing, + And thou hast risen with the spring! + + Once more thy strong maternal arms + Are round about thy children flung,-- + A lioness that guards her young! + + No threat is on thy closed lips, + But in thine eye a power to smite + The mad wolf backward from its light. + + Southward the baffled robber's track + Henceforth runs only; hereaway, + The fell lycanthrope finds no prey. + + Henceforth, within thy sacred gates, + His first low howl shall downward draw + The thunder of thy righteous law. + + Not mindless of thy trade and gain, + But, acting on the wiser plan, + Thou'rt grown conservative of man. + + So shalt thou clothe with life the hope, + Dream-painted on the sightless eyes + Of him who sang of Paradise,-- + + The vision of a Christian man, + In virtue, as in stature great + Embodied in a Christian State. + + And thou, amidst thy sisterhood + Forbearing long, yet standing fast, + Shalt win their grateful thanks at last; + + When North and South shall strive no more, + And all their feuds and fears be lost + In Freedom's holy Pentecost. + + 6th mo., 1855. + + + + +THE HASCHISH. + + OF all that Orient lands can vaunt + Of marvels with our own competing, + The strangest is the Haschish plant, + And what will follow on its eating. + + What pictures to the taster rise, + Of Dervish or of Almeh dances! + Of Eblis, or of Paradise, + Set all aglow with Houri glances! + + The poppy visions of Cathay, + The heavy beer-trance of the Suabian; + The wizard lights and demon play + Of nights Walpurgis and Arabian! + + The Mollah and the Christian dog + Change place in mad metempsychosis; + The Muezzin climbs the synagogue, + The Rabbi shakes his beard at Moses! + + The Arab by his desert well + Sits choosing from some Caliph's daughters, + And hears his single camel's bell + Sound welcome to his regal quarters. + + The Koran's reader makes complaint + Of Shitan dancing on and off it; + The robber offers alms, the saint + Drinks Tokay and blasphemes the Prophet. + + Such scenes that Eastern plant awakes; + But we have one ordained to beat it, + The Haschish of the West, which makes + Or fools or knaves of all who eat it. + + The preacher eats, and straight appears + His Bible in a new translation; + Its angels negro overseers, + And Heaven itself a snug plantation! + + The man of peace, about whose dreams + The sweet millennial angels cluster, + Tastes the mad weed, and plots and schemes, + A raving Cuban filibuster! + + The noisiest Democrat, with ease, + It turns to Slavery's parish beadle; + The shrewdest statesman eats and sees + Due southward point the polar needle. + + The Judge partakes, and sits erelong + Upon his bench a railing blackguard; + Decides off-hand that right is wrong, + And reads the ten commandments backward. + + O potent plant! so rare a taste + Has never Turk or Gentoo gotten; + The hempen Haschish of the East + Is powerless to our Western Cotton! + + 1854. + + + + +FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS' SAKE. + +Inscribed to friends under arrest for treason against the slave power. + + + THE age is dull and mean. Men creep, + Not walk; with blood too pale and tame + To pay the debt they owe to shame; + Buy cheap, sell dear; eat, drink, and sleep + Down-pillowed, deaf to moaning want; + Pay tithes for soul-insurance; keep + Six days to Mammon, one to Cant. + + In such a time, give thanks to God, + That somewhat of the holy rage + With which the prophets in their age + On all its decent seemings trod, + Has set your feet upon the lie, + That man and ox and soul and clod + Are market stock to sell and buy! + + The hot words from your lips, my own, + To caution trained, might not repeat; + But if some tares among the wheat + Of generous thought and deed were sown, + No common wrong provoked your zeal; + The silken gauntlet that is thrown + In such a quarrel rings like steel. + + The brave old strife the fathers saw + For Freedom calls for men again + Like those who battled not in vain + For England's Charter, Alfred's law; + And right of speech and trial just + Wage in your name their ancient war + With venal courts and perjured trust. + + God's ways seem dark, but, soon or late, + They touch the shining hills of day; + The evil cannot brook delay, + The good can well afford to wait. + Give ermined knaves their hour of crime; + Ye have the future grand and great, + The safe appeal of Truth to Time! + + 1855. + + + + +THE KANSAS EMIGRANTS. + +This poem and the three following were called out by the popular +movement of Free State men to occupy the territory of Kansas, and by the +use of the great democratic weapon--an over-powering majority--to settle +the conflict on that ground between Freedom and Slavery. The opponents +of the movement used another kind of weapon. + + + WE cross the prairie as of old + The pilgrims crossed the sea, + To make the West, as they the East, + The homestead of the free! + + We go to rear a wall of men + On Freedom's southern line, + And plant beside the cotton-tree + The rugged Northern pine! + + We're flowing from our native hills + As our free rivers flow; + The blessing of our Mother-land + Is on us as we go. + + We go to plant her common schools, + On distant prairie swells, + And give the Sabbaths of the wild + The music of her bells. + + Upbearing, like the Ark of old, + The Bible in our van, + We go to test the truth of God + Against the fraud of man. + + No pause, nor rest, save where the streams + That feed the Kansas run, + Save where our Pilgrim gonfalon + Shall flout the setting sun. + + We'll tread the prairie as of old + Our fathers sailed the sea, + And make the West, as they the East, + The homestead of the free! + + 1854. + + + + +LETTER FROM A MISSIONARY OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH SOUTH, + +IN KANSAS, TO A DISTINGUISHED POLITICIAN. + +DOUGLAS MISSION, August, 1854, + + LAST week--the Lord be praised for all His mercies + To His unworthy servant!--I arrived + Safe at the Mission, via Westport; where + I tarried over night, to aid in forming + A Vigilance Committee, to send back, + In shirts of tar, and feather-doublets quilted + With forty stripes save one, all Yankee comers, + Uncircumcised and Gentile, aliens from + The Commonwealth of Israel, who despise + The prize of the high calling of the saints, + Who plant amidst this heathen wilderness + Pure gospel institutions, sanctified + By patriarchal use. The meeting opened + With prayer, as was most fitting. Half an hour, + Or thereaway, I groaned, and strove, and wrestled, + As Jacob did at Penuel, till the power + Fell on the people, and they cried 'Amen!' + "Glory to God!" and stamped and clapped their hands; + And the rough river boatmen wiped their eyes; + "Go it, old hoss!" they cried, and cursed the niggers-- + Fulfilling thus the word of prophecy, + "Cursed be Cannan." After prayer, the meeting + Chose a committee--good and pious men-- + A Presbyterian Elder, Baptist deacon, + A local preacher, three or four class-leaders, + Anxious inquirers, and renewed backsliders, + A score in all--to watch the river ferry, + (As they of old did watch the fords of Jordan,) + And cut off all whose Yankee tongues refuse + The Shibboleth of the Nebraska bill. + And then, in answer to repeated calls, + I gave a brief account of what I saw + In Washington; and truly many hearts + Rejoiced to know the President, and you + And all the Cabinet regularly hear + The gospel message of a Sunday morning, + Drinking with thirsty souls of the sincere + Milk of the Word. Glory! Amen, and Selah! + + Here, at the Mission, all things have gone well + The brother who, throughout my absence, acted + As overseer, assures me that the crops + Never were better. I have lost one negro, + A first-rate hand, but obstinate and sullen. + He ran away some time last spring, and hid + In the river timber. There my Indian converts + Found him, and treed and shot him. For the rest, + The heathens round about begin to feel + The influence of our pious ministrations + And works of love; and some of them already + Have purchased negroes, and are settling down + As sober Christians! Bless the Lord for this! + I know it will rejoice you. You, I hear, + Are on the eve of visiting Chicago, + To fight with the wild beasts of Ephesus, + Long John, and Dutch Free-Soilers. May your arm + Be clothed with strength, and on your tongue be found + The sweet oil of persuasion. So desires + Your brother and co-laborer. Amen! + + P.S. All's lost. Even while I write these lines, + The Yankee abolitionists are coming + Upon us like a flood--grim, stalwart men, + Each face set like a flint of Plymouth Rock + Against our institutions--staking out + Their farm lots on the wooded Wakarusa, + Or squatting by the mellow-bottomed Kansas; + The pioneers of mightier multitudes, + The small rain-patter, ere the thunder shower + Drowns the dry prairies. Hope from man is not. + Oh, for a quiet berth at Washington, + Snug naval chaplaincy, or clerkship, where + These rumors of free labor and free soil + Might never meet me more. Better to be + Door-keeper in the White House, than to dwell + Amidst these Yankee tents, that, whitening, show + On the green prairie like a fleet becalmed. + Methinks I hear a voice come up the river + From those far bayous, where the alligators + Mount guard around the camping filibusters + "Shake off the dust of Kansas. Turn to Cuba-- + (That golden orange just about to fall, + O'er-ripe, into the Democratic lap;) + Keep pace with Providence, or, as we say, + Manifest destiny. Go forth and follow + The message of our gospel, thither borne + Upon the point of Quitman's bowie-knife, + And the persuasive lips of Colt's revolvers. + There may'st thou, underneath thy vine and figtree, + Watch thy increase of sugar cane and negroes, + Calm as a patriarch in his eastern tent!" + Amen: So mote it be. So prays your friend. + + + + +BURIAL OF BARBER. + +Thomas Barber was shot December 6, 1855, near Lawrence, Kansas. + + + BEAR him, comrades, to his grave; + Never over one more brave + Shall the prairie grasses weep, + In the ages yet to come, + When the millions in our room, + What we sow in tears, shall reap. + + Bear him up the icy hill, + With the Kansas, frozen still + As his noble heart, below, + And the land he came to till + With a freeman's thews and will, + And his poor hut roofed with snow. + + One more look of that dead face, + Of his murder's ghastly trace! + One more kiss, O widowed one + Lay your left hands on his brow, + Lift your right hands up, and vow + That his work shall yet be done. + + Patience, friends! The eye of God + Every path by Murder trod + Watches, lidless, day and night; + And the dead man in his shroud, + And his widow weeping loud, + And our hearts, are in His sight. + + Every deadly threat that swells + With the roar of gambling hells, + Every brutal jest and jeer, + Every wicked thought and plan + Of the cruel heart of man, + Though but whispered, He can hear! + + We in suffering, they in crime, + Wait the just award of time, + Wait the vengeance that is due; + Not in vain a heart shall break, + Not a tear for Freedom's sake + Fall unheeded: God is true. + + While the flag with stars bedecked + Threatens where it should protect, + And the Law shakes Hands with Crime, + What is left us but to wait, + Match our patience to our fate, + And abide the better time? + + Patience, friends! The human heart + Everywhere shall take our part, + Everywhere for us shall pray; + On our side are nature's laws, + And God's life is in the cause + That we suffer for to-day. + + Well to suffer is divine; + Pass the watchword down the line, + Pass the countersign: "Endure." + Not to him who rashly dares, + But to him who nobly bears, + Is the victor's garland sure. + + Frozen earth to frozen breast, + Lay our slain one down to rest; + Lay him down in hope and faith, + And above the broken sod, + Once again, to Freedom's God, + Pledge ourselves for life or death, + + That the State whose walls we lay, + In our blood and tears, to-day, + Shall be free from bonds of shame, + And our goodly land untrod + By the feet of Slavery, shod + With cursing as with flame! + + Plant the Buckeye on his grave, + For the hunter of the slave + In its shadow cannot rest; I + And let martyr mound and tree + Be our pledge and guaranty + Of the freedom of the West! + + 1856. + + + + +TO PENNSYLVANIA. + + O STATE prayer-founded! never hung + Such choice upon a people's tongue, + Such power to bless or ban, + As that which makes thy whisper Fate, + For which on thee the centuries wait, + And destinies of man! + + Across thy Alleghanian chain, + With groanings from a land in pain, + The west-wind finds its way: + Wild-wailing from Missouri's flood + The crying of thy children's blood + Is in thy ears to-day! + + And unto thee in Freedom's hour + Of sorest need God gives the power + To ruin or to save; + To wound or heal, to blight or bless + With fertile field or wilderness, + A free home or a grave! + + Then let thy virtue match the crime, + Rise to a level with the time; + And, if a son of thine + Betray or tempt thee, Brutus-like + For Fatherland and Freedom strike + As Justice gives the sign. + + Wake, sleeper, from thy dream of ease, + The great occasion's forelock seize; + And let the north-wind strong, + And golden leaves of autumn, be + Thy coronal of Victory + And thy triumphal song. + + 10th me., 1856. + + + + +LE MARAIS DU CYGNE. + +The massacre of unarmed and unoffending men, in Southern Kansas, in May, +1858, took place near the Marais du Cygne of the French voyageurs. + + + A BLUSH as of roses + Where rose never grew! + Great drops on the bunch-grass, + But not of the dew! + A taint in the sweet air + For wild bees to shun! + A stain that shall never + Bleach out in the sun. + + Back, steed of the prairies + Sweet song-bird, fly back! + Wheel hither, bald vulture! + Gray wolf, call thy pack! + The foul human vultures + Have feasted and fled; + The wolves of the Border + Have crept from the dead. + + From the hearths of their cabins, + The fields of their corn, + Unwarned and unweaponed, + The victims were torn,-- + By the whirlwind of murder + Swooped up and swept on + To the low, reedy fen-lands, + The Marsh of the Swan. + + With a vain plea for mercy + No stout knee was crooked; + In the mouths of the rifles + Right manly they looked. + How paled the May sunshine, + O Marais du Cygne! + On death for the strong life, + On red grass for green! + + In the homes of their rearing, + Yet warm with their lives, + Ye wait the dead only, + Poor children and wives! + Put out the red forge-fire, + The smith shall not come; + Unyoke the brown oxen, + The ploughman lies dumb. + + Wind slow from the Swan's Marsh, + O dreary death-train, + With pressed lips as bloodless + As lips of the slain! + Kiss down the young eyelids, + Smooth down the gray hairs; + Let tears quench the curses + That burn through your prayers. + + Strong man of the prairies, + Mourn bitter and wild! + Wail, desolate woman! + Weep, fatherless child! + But the grain of God springs up + From ashes beneath, + And the crown of his harvest + Is life out of death. + + Not in vain on the dial + The shade moves along, + To point the great contrasts + Of right and of wrong: + Free homes and free altars, + Free prairie and flood,-- + The reeds of the Swan's Marsh, + Whose bloom is of blood! + + On the lintels of Kansas + That blood shall not dry; + Henceforth the Bad Angel + Shall harmless go by; + Henceforth to the sunset, + Unchecked on her way, + Shall Liberty follow + The march of the day. + + + + +THE PASS OF THE SIERRA. + + ALL night above their rocky bed + They saw the stars march slow; + The wild Sierra overhead, + The desert's death below. + + The Indian from his lodge of bark, + The gray bear from his den, + Beyond their camp-fire's wall of dark, + Glared on the mountain men. + + Still upward turned, with anxious strain, + Their leader's sleepless eye, + Where splinters of the mountain chain + Stood black against the sky. + + The night waned slow: at last, a glow, + A gleam of sudden fire, + Shot up behind the walls of snow, + And tipped each icy spire. + + "Up, men!" he cried, "yon rocky cone, + To-day, please God, we'll pass, + And look from Winter's frozen throne + On Summer's flowers and grass!" + + They set their faces to the blast, + They trod the eternal snow, + And faint, worn, bleeding, hailed at last + The promised land below. + + Behind, they saw the snow-cloud tossed + By many an icy horn; + Before, warm valleys, wood-embossed, + And green with vines and corn. + + They left the Winter at their backs + To flap his baffled wing, + And downward, with the cataracts, + Leaped to the lap of Spring. + + Strong leader of that mountain band, + Another task remains, + To break from Slavery's desert land + A path to Freedom's plains. + + The winds are wild, the way is drear, + Yet, flashing through the night, + Lo! icy ridge and rocky spear + Blaze out in morning light! + + Rise up, Fremont! and go before; + The hour must have its Man; + Put on the hunting-shirt once more, + And lead in Freedom's van! + 8th mo., 1856. + + + + +A SONG FOR THE TIME. + +Written in the summer of 1856, during the political campaign of the Free +Soil party under the candidacy of John C. Fremont. + + + Up, laggards of Freedom!--our free flag is cast + To the blaze of the sun and the wings of the blast; + Will ye turn from a struggle so bravely begun, + From a foe that is breaking, a field that's half won? + + Whoso loves not his kind, and who fears not the Lord, + Let him join that foe's service, accursed and abhorred + Let him do his base will, as the slave only can,-- + Let him put on the bloodhound, and put off the Man! + + Let him go where the cold blood that creeps in his veins + Shall stiffen the slave-whip, and rust on his chains; + Where the black slave shall laugh in his bonds, to behold + The White Slave beside him, self-fettered and sold! + + But ye, who still boast of hearts beating and warm, + Rise, from lake shore and ocean's, like waves in a storm, + Come, throng round our banner in Liberty's name, + Like winds from your mountains, like prairies aflame! + + Our foe, hidden long in his ambush of night, + Now, forced from his covert, stands black in the light. + Oh, the cruel to Man, and the hateful to God, + Smite him down to the earth, that is cursed where he trod! + + For deeper than thunder of summer's loud shower, + On the dome of the sky God is striking the hour! + Shall we falter before what we've prayed for so long, + When the Wrong is so weak, and the Right is so strong? + + Come forth all together! come old and come young, + Freedom's vote in each hand, and her song on each tongue; + Truth naked is stronger than Falsehood in mail; + The Wrong cannot prosper, the Right cannot fail. + + Like leaves of the summer once numbered the foe, + But the hoar-frost is falling, the northern winds blow; + Like leaves of November erelong shall they fall, + For earth wearies of them, and God's over all! + + + + +WHAT OF THE DAY? + +Written during the stirring weeks when the great political battle for +Freedom under Fremont's leadership was permitting strong hope of +success,--a hope overshadowed and solemnized by a sense of the magnitude +of the barbaric evil, and a forecast of the unscrupulous and desperate +use of all its powers in the last and decisive struggle. + + + A SOUND of tumult troubles all the air, + Like the low thunders of a sultry sky + Far-rolling ere the downright lightnings glare; + The hills blaze red with warnings; foes draw nigh, + Treading the dark with challenge and reply. + Behold the burden of the prophet's vision; + The gathering hosts,--the Valley of Decision, + Dusk with the wings of eagles wheeling o'er. + Day of the Lord, of darkness and not light! + It breaks in thunder and the whirlwind's roar + Even so, Father! Let Thy will be done; + Turn and o'erturn, end what Thou bast begun + In judgment or in mercy: as for me, + If but the least and frailest, let me be + Evermore numbered with the truly free + Who find Thy service perfect liberty! + I fain would thank Thee that my mortal life + Has reached the hour (albeit through care and pain) + When Good and Evil, as for final strife, + Close dim and vast on Armageddon's plain; + And Michael and his angels once again + Drive howling back the Spirits of the Night. + Oh for the faith to read the signs aright + And, from the angle of Thy perfect sight, + See Truth's white banner floating on before; + And the Good Cause, despite of venal friends, + And base expedients, move to noble ends; + See Peace with Freedom make to Time amends, + And, through its cloud of dust, the threshing-floor, + Flailed by the thunder, heaped with chaffless grain. + + 1856. + + + + +A SONG, INSCRIBED TO THE FREMONT CLUBS. + +Written after the election in 1586, which showed the immense gains of +the Free Soil party, and insured its success in 1860. + + BENEATH thy skies, November! + Thy skies of cloud and rain, + Around our blazing camp-fires + We close our ranks again. + Then sound again the bugles, + Call the muster-roll anew; + If months have well-nigh won the field, + What may not four years do? + + For God be praised! New England + Takes once more her ancient place; + Again the Pilgrim's banner + Leads the vanguard of the race. + Then sound again the bugles, etc. + + Along the lordly Hudson, + A shout of triumph breaks; + The Empire State is speaking, + From the ocean to the lakes. + Then sound again the bugles, etc. + + The Northern hills are blazing, + The Northern skies are bright; + And the fair young West is turning + Her forehead to the light! + Then sound again the bugles, etc. + + Push every outpost nearer, + Press hard the hostile towers! + Another Balaklava, + And the Malakoff is ours! + Then sound again the bugles, + Call the muster-roll anew; + If months have well-nigh won the field, + What may not four years do? + + + + +THE PANORAMA. + + "A! fredome is a nobill thing! + Fredome mayse man to haif liking. + Fredome all solace to man giffis; + He levys at ese that frely levys + A nobil hart may haif nane ese + Na ellvs nocht that may him plese + Gyff Fredome failythe." + ARCHDEACON BARBOUR. + + + THROUGH the long hall the shuttered windows shed + A dubious light on every upturned head; + On locks like those of Absalom the fair, + On the bald apex ringed with scanty hair, + On blank indifference and on curious stare; + On the pale Showman reading from his stage + The hieroglyphics of that facial page; + Half sad, half scornful, listening to the bruit + Of restless cane-tap and impatient foot, + And the shrill call, across the general din, + "Roll up your curtain! Let the show begin!" + + At length a murmur like the winds that break + Into green waves the prairie's grassy lake, + Deepened and swelled to music clear and loud, + And, as the west-wind lifts a summer cloud, + The curtain rose, disclosing wide and far + A green land stretching to the evening star, + Fair rivers, skirted by primeval trees + And flowers hummed over by the desert bees, + Marked by tall bluffs whose slopes of greenness show + Fantastic outcrops of the rock below; + The slow result of patient Nature's pains, + And plastic fingering of her sun and rains; + Arch, tower, and gate, grotesquely windowed hall, + And long escarpment of half-crumbled wall, + Huger than those which, from steep hills of vine, + Stare through their loopholes on the travelled Rhine; + Suggesting vaguely to the gazer's mind + A fancy, idle as the prairie wind, + Of the land's dwellers in an age unguessed; + The unsung Jotuns of the mystic West. + + Beyond, the prairie's sea-like swells surpass + The Tartar's marvels of his Land of Grass, + Vast as the sky against whose sunset shores + Wave after wave the billowy greenness pours; + And, onward still, like islands in that main + Loom the rough peaks of many a mountain chain, + Whence east and west a thousand waters run + From winter lingering under summer's sun. + And, still beyond, long lines of foam and sand + Tell where Pacific rolls his waves a-land, + From many a wide-lapped port and land-locked bay, + Opening with thunderous pomp the world's highway + To Indian isles of spice, and marts of far Cathay. + + "Such," said the Showman, as the curtain fell, + "Is the new Canaan of our Israel; + The land of promise to the swarming North, + Which, hive-like, sends its annual surplus forth, + To the poor Southron on his worn-out soil, + Scathed by the curses of unnatural toil; + To Europe's exiles seeking home and rest, + And the lank nomads of the wandering West, + Who, asking neither, in their love of change + And the free bison's amplitude of range, + Rear the log-hut, for present shelter meant, + Not future comfort, like an Arab's tent." + + Then spake a shrewd on-looker, "Sir," said he, + "I like your picture, but I fain would see + A sketch of what your promised land will be + When, with electric nerve, and fiery-brained, + With Nature's forces to its chariot chained, + The future grasping, by the past obeyed, + The twentieth century rounds a new decade." + + Then said the Showman, sadly: "He who grieves + Over the scattering of the sibyl's leaves + Unwisely mourns. Suffice it, that we know + What needs must ripen from the seed we sow; + That present time is but the mould wherein + We cast the shapes of holiness and sin. + A painful watcher of the passing hour, + Its lust of gold, its strife for place and power; + Its lack of manhood, honor, reverence, truth, + Wise-thoughted age, and generous-hearted youth; + Nor yet unmindful of each better sign, + The low, far lights, which on th' horizon shine, + Like those which sometimes tremble on the rim + Of clouded skies when day is closing dim, + Flashing athwart the purple spears of rain + The hope of sunshine on the hills again + I need no prophet's word, nor shapes that pass + Like clouding shadows o'er a magic glass; + For now, as ever, passionless and cold, + Doth the dread angel of the future hold + Evil and good before us, with no voice + Or warning look to guide us in our choice; + With spectral hands outreaching through the gloom + The shadowy contrasts of the coming doom. + Transferred from these, it now remains to give + The sun and shade of Fate's alternative." + + Then, with a burst of music, touching all + The keys of thrifty life,--the mill-stream's fall, + The engine's pant along its quivering rails, + The anvil's ring, the measured beat of flails, + The sweep of scythes, the reaper's whistled tune, + Answering the summons of the bells of noon, + The woodman's hail along the river shores, + The steamboat's signal, and the dip of oars + Slowly the curtain rose from off a land + Fair as God's garden. Broad on either hand + The golden wheat-fields glimmered in the sun, + And the tall maize its yellow tassels spun. + Smooth highways set with hedge-rows living green, + With steepled towns through shaded vistas seen, + The school-house murmuring with its hive-like swarm, + The brook-bank whitening in the grist-mill's storm, + The painted farm-house shining through the leaves + Of fruited orchards bending at its eaves, + Where live again, around the Western hearth, + The homely old-time virtues of the North; + Where the blithe housewife rises with the day, + And well-paid labor counts his task a play. + And, grateful tokens of a Bible free, + And the free Gospel of Humanity, + Of diverse-sects and differing names the shrines, + One in their faith, whate'er their outward signs, + Like varying strophes of the same sweet hymn + From many a prairie's swell and river's brim, + A thousand church-spires sanctify the air + Of the calm Sabbath, with their sign of prayer. + + Like sudden nightfall over bloom and green + The curtain dropped: and, momently, between + The clank of fetter and the crack of thong, + Half sob, half laughter, music swept along; + A strange refrain, whose idle words and low, + Like drunken mourners, kept the time of woe; + As if the revellers at a masquerade + Heard in the distance funeral marches played. + Such music, dashing all his smiles with tears, + The thoughtful voyager on Ponchartrain hears, + Where, through the noonday dusk of wooded shores + The negro boatman, singing to his oars, + With a wild pathos borrowed of his wrong + Redeems the jargon of his senseless song. + "Look," said the Showman, sternly, as he rolled + His curtain upward. "Fate's reverse behold!" + + A village straggling in loose disarray + Of vulgar newness, premature decay; + A tavern, crazy with its whiskey brawls, + With "Slaves at Auction!" garnishing its walls; + Without, surrounded by a motley crowd, + The shrewd-eyed salesman, garrulous and loud, + A squire or colonel in his pride of place, + Known at free fights, the caucus, and the race, + Prompt to proclaim his honor without blot, + And silence doubters with a ten-pace shot, + Mingling the negro-driving bully's rant + With pious phrase and democratic cant, + Yet never scrupling, with a filthy jest, + To sell the infant from its mother's breast, + Break through all ties of wedlock, home, and kin, + Yield shrinking girlhood up to graybeard sin; + Sell all the virtues with his human stock, + The Christian graces on his auction-block, + And coolly count on shrewdest bargains driven + In hearts regenerate, and in souls forgiven! + + Look once again! The moving canvas shows + A slave plantation's slovenly repose, + Where, in rude cabins rotting midst their weeds, + The human chattel eats, and sleeps, and breeds; + And, held a brute, in practice, as in law, + Becomes in fact the thing he's taken for. + There, early summoned to the hemp and corn, + The nursing mother leaves her child new-born; + There haggard sickness, weak and deathly faint, + Crawls to his task, and fears to make complaint; + And sad-eyed Rachels, childless in decay, + Weep for their lost ones sold and torn away! + Of ampler size the master's dwelling stands, + In shabby keeping with his half-tilled lands; + The gates unhinged, the yard with weeds unclean, + The cracked veranda with a tipsy lean. + Without, loose-scattered like a wreck adrift, + Signs of misrule and tokens of unthrift; + Within, profusion to discomfort joined, + The listless body and the vacant mind; + The fear, the hate, the theft and falsehood, born + In menial hearts of toil, and stripes, and scorn + There, all the vices, which, like birds obscene, + Batten on slavery loathsome and unclean, + From the foul kitchen to the parlor rise, + Pollute the nursery where the child-heir lies, + Taint infant lips beyond all after cure, + With the fell poison of a breast impure; + Touch boyhood's passions with the breath of flame, + From girlhood's instincts steal the blush of shame. + So swells, from low to high, from weak to strong, + The tragic chorus of the baleful wrong; + Guilty or guiltless, all within its range + Feel the blind justice of its sure revenge. + + Still scenes like these the moving chart reveals. + Up the long western steppes the blighting steals; + Down the Pacific slope the evil Fate + Glides like a shadow to the Golden Gate + From sea to sea the drear eclipse is thrown, + From sea to sea the Mauvaises Terres have grown, + A belt of curses on the New World's zone! + + The curtain fell. All drew a freer breath, + As men are wont to do when mournful death + Is covered from their sight. The Showman stood + With drooping brow in sorrow's attitude + One moment, then with sudden gesture shook + His loose hair back, and with the air and look + Of one who felt, beyond the narrow stage + And listening group, the presence of the age, + And heard the footsteps of the things to be, + Poured out his soul in earnest words and free. + + "O friends!" he said, "in this poor trick of paint + You see the semblance, incomplete and faint, + Of the two-fronted Future, which, to-day, + Stands dim and silent, waiting in your way. + To-day, your servant, subject to your will; + To-morrow, master, or for good or ill. + If the dark face of Slavery on you turns, + If the mad curse its paper barrier spurns, + If the world granary of the West is made + The last foul market of the slaver's trade, + Why rail at fate? The mischief is your own. + Why hate your neighbor? Blame yourselves + alone! + + "Men of the North! The South you charge with wrong + Is weak and poor, while you are rich and strong. + If questions,--idle and absurd as those + The old-time monks and Paduan doctors chose,-- + Mere ghosts of questions, tariffs, and dead banks, + And scarecrow pontiffs, never broke your ranks, + Your thews united could, at once, roll back + The jostled nation to its primal track. + Nay, were you simply steadfast, manly, just, + True to the faith your fathers left in trust, + If stainless honor outweighed in your scale + A codfish quintal or a factory bale, + Full many a noble heart, (and such remain + In all the South, like Lot in Siddim's plain, + Who watch and wait, and from the wrong's control + Keep white and pure their chastity of soul,) + Now sick to loathing of your weak complaints, + Your tricks as sinners, and your prayers as saints, + Would half-way meet the frankness of your tone, + And feel their pulses beating with your own. + + "The North! the South! no geographic line + Can fix the boundary or the point define, + Since each with each so closely interblends, + Where Slavery rises, and where Freedom ends. + Beneath your rocks the roots, far-reaching, hide + Of the fell Upas on the Southern side; + The tree whose branches in your northwinds wave + Dropped its young blossoms on Mount Vernon's grave; + The nursling growth of Monticello's crest + Is now the glory of the free Northwest; + To the wise maxims of her olden school + Virginia listened from thy lips, Rantoul; + Seward's words of power, and Sumner's fresh renown, + Flow from the pen that Jefferson laid down! + And when, at length, her years of madness o'er, + Like the crowned grazer on Euphrates' shore, + From her long lapse to savagery, her mouth + Bitter with baneful herbage, turns the South, + Resumes her old attire, and seeks to smooth + Her unkempt tresses at the glass of truth, + Her early faith shall find a tongue again, + New Wythes and Pinckneys swell that old refrain, + Her sons with yours renew the ancient pact, + The myth of Union prove at last a fact! + Then, if one murmur mars the wide content, + Some Northern lip will drawl the last dissent, + Some Union-saving patriot of your own + Lament to find his occupation gone. + + "Grant that the North 's insulted, scorned, betrayed, + O'erreached in bargains with her neighbor made, + When selfish thrift and party held the scales + For peddling dicker, not for honest sales,-- + Whom shall we strike? Who most deserves our blame? + The braggart Southron, open in his aim, + And bold as wicked, crashing straight through all + That bars his purpose, like a cannon-ball? + Or the mean traitor, breathing northern air, + With nasal speech and puritanic hair, + Whose cant the loss of principle survives, + As the mud-turtle e'en its head outlives; + Who, caught, chin-buried in some foul offence, + Puts on a look of injured innocence, + And consecrates his baseness to the cause + Of constitution, union, and the laws? + + "Praise to the place-man who can hold aloof + His still unpurchased manhood, office-proof; + Who on his round of duty walks erect, + And leaves it only rich in self-respect; + As More maintained his virtue's lofty port + In the Eighth Henry's base and bloody court. + But, if exceptions here and there are found, + Who tread thus safely on enchanted ground, + The normal type, the fitting symbol still + Of those who fatten at the public mill, + Is the chained dog beside his master's door, + Or Circe's victim, feeding on all four! + + "Give me the heroes who, at tuck of drum, + Salute thy staff, immortal Quattlebum! + Or they who, doubly armed with vote and gun, + Following thy lead, illustrious Atchison, + Their drunken franchise shift from scene to scene, + As tile-beard Jourdan did his guillotine! + Rather than him who, born beneath our skies, + To Slavery's hand its supplest tool supplies; + The party felon whose unblushing face + Looks from the pillory of his bribe of place, + And coolly makes a merit of disgrace, + Points to the footmarks of indignant scorn, + Shows the deep scars of satire's tossing horn; + And passes to his credit side the sum + Of all that makes a scoundrel's martyrdom! + + "Bane of the North, its canker and its moth! + These modern Esaus, bartering rights for broth! + Taxing our justice, with their double claim, + As fools for pity, and as knaves for blame; + Who, urged by party, sect, or trade, within + The fell embrace of Slavery's sphere of sin, + Part at the outset with their moral sense, + The watchful angel set for Truth's defence; + Confound all contrasts, good and ill; reverse + The poles of life, its blessing and its curse; + And lose thenceforth from their perverted sight + The eternal difference 'twixt the wrong and right; + To them the Law is but the iron span + That girds the ankles of imbruted man; + To them the Gospel has no higher aim + Than simple sanction of the master's claim, + Dragged in the slime of Slavery's loathsome trail, + Like Chalier's Bible at his ass's tail! + + "Such are the men who, with instinctive dread, + Whenever Freedom lifts her drooping head, + Make prophet-tripods of their office-stools, + And scare the nurseries and the village schools + With dire presage of ruin grim and great, + A broken Union and a foundered State! + Such are the patriots, self-bound to the stake + Of office, martyrs for their country's sake + Who fill themselves the hungry jaws of Fate; + And by their loss of manhood save the State. + In the wide gulf themselves like Cortius throw, + And test the virtues of cohesive dough; + As tropic monkeys, linking heads and tails, + Bridge o'er some torrent of Ecuador's vales! + + "Such are the men who in your churches rave + To swearing-point, at mention of the slave! + When some poor parson, haply unawares, + Stammers of freedom in his timid prayers; + Who, if some foot-sore negro through the town + Steals northward, volunteer to hunt him down. + Or, if some neighbor, flying from disease, + Courts the mild balsam of the Southern breeze, + With hue and cry pursue him on his track, + And write Free-soiler on the poor man's back. + Such are the men who leave the pedler's cart, + While faring South, to learn the driver's art, + Or, in white neckcloth, soothe with pious aim + The graceful sorrows of some languid dame, + Who, from the wreck of her bereavement, saves + The double charm of widowhood and slaves + Pliant and apt, they lose no chance to show + To what base depths apostasy can go; + Outdo the natives in their readiness + To roast a negro, or to mob a press; + Poise a tarred schoolmate on the lyncher's rail, + Or make a bonfire of their birthplace mail! + + "So some poor wretch, whose lips no longer bear + The sacred burden of his mother's prayer, + By fear impelled, or lust of gold enticed, + Turns to the Crescent from the Cross of Christ, + And, over-acting in superfluous zeal, + Crawls prostrate where the faithful only kneel, + Out-howls the Dervish, hugs his rags to court + The squalid Santon's sanctity of dirt; + And, when beneath the city gateway's span + Files slow and long the Meccan caravan, + And through its midst, pursued by Islam's prayers, + The prophet's Word some favored camel bears, + The marked apostate has his place assigned + The Koran-bearer's sacred rump behind, + With brush and pitcher following, grave and mute, + In meek attendance on the holy brute! + + "Men of the North! beneath your very eyes, + By hearth and home, your real danger lies. + Still day by day some hold of freedom falls + Through home-bred traitors fed within its walls. + Men whom yourselves with vote and purse sustain, + At posts of honor, influence, and gain; + The right of Slavery to your sons to teach, + And 'South-side' Gospels in your pulpits preach, + Transfix the Law to ancient freedom dear + On the sharp point of her subverted spear, + And imitate upon her cushion plump + The mad Missourian lynching from his stump; + Or, in your name, upon the Senate's floor + Yield up to Slavery all it asks, and more; + And, ere your dull eyes open to the cheat, + Sell your old homestead underneath your feet + While such as these your loftiest outlooks hold, + While truth and conscience with your wares are sold, + While grave-browed merchants band themselves to aid + An annual man-hunt for their Southern trade, + What moral power within your grasp remains + To stay the mischief on Nebraska's plains? + High as the tides of generous impulse flow, + As far rolls back the selfish undertow; + And all your brave resolves, though aimed as true + As the horse-pistol Balmawhapple drew, + To Slavery's bastions lend as slight a shock + As the poor trooper's shot to Stirling rock! + + "Yet, while the need of Freedom's cause demands + The earnest efforts of your hearts and hands, + Urged by all motives that can prompt the heart + To prayer and toil and manhood's manliest part; + Though to the soul's deep tocsin Nature joins + The warning whisper of her Orphic pines, + The north-wind's anger, and the south-wind's sigh, + The midnight sword-dance of the northern sky, + And, to the ear that bends above the sod + Of the green grave-mounds in the Fields of God, + In low, deep murmurs of rebuke or cheer, + The land's dead fathers speak their hope or fear, + Yet let not Passion wrest from Reason's hand + The guiding rein and symbol of command. + Blame not the caution proffering to your zeal + A well-meant drag upon its hurrying wheel; + Nor chide the man whose honest doubt extends + To the means only, not the righteous ends; + Nor fail to weigh the scruples and the fears + Of milder natures and serener years. + In the long strife with evil which began + With the first lapse of new-created man, + Wisely and well has Providence assigned + To each his part,--some forward, some behind; + And they, too, serve who temper and restrain + The o'erwarm heart that sets on fire the brain. + True to yourselves, feed Freedom's altar-flame + With what you have; let others do the same. + + "Spare timid doubters; set like flint your face + Against the self-sold knaves of gain and place + Pity the weak; but with unsparing hand + Cast out the traitors who infest the land; + From bar, press, pulpit, cast them everywhere, + By dint of fasting, if you fail by prayer. + And in their place bring men of antique mould, + Like the grave fathers of your Age of Gold; + Statesmen like those who sought the primal fount + Of righteous law, the Sermon on the Mount; + Lawyers who prize, like Quincy, (to our day + Still spared, Heaven bless him!) honor more than pay, + And Christian jurists, starry-pure, like Jay; + Preachers like Woolman, or like them who bore + The faith of Wesley to our Western shore, + And held no convert genuine till he broke + Alike his servants' and the Devil's yoke; + And priests like him who Newport's market trod, + And o'er its slave-ships shook the bolts of God! + So shall your power, with a wise prudence used, + Strong but forbearing, firm but not abused, + In kindly keeping with the good of all, + The nobler maxims of the past recall, + Her natural home-born right to Freedom give, + And leave her foe his robber-right,--to live. + Live, as the snake does in his noisome fen! + Live, as the wolf does in his bone-strewn den! + Live, clothed with cursing like a robe of flame, + The focal point of million-fingered shame! + Live, till the Southron, who, with all his faults, + Has manly instincts, in his pride revolts, + Dashes from off him, midst the glad world's cheers, + The hideous nightmare of his dream of years, + And lifts, self-prompted, with his own right hand, + The vile encumbrance from his glorious land! + + "So, wheresoe'er our destiny sends forth + Its widening circles to the South or North, + Where'er our banner flaunts beneath the stars + Its mimic splendors and its cloudlike bars, + There shall Free Labor's hardy children stand + The equal sovereigns of a slaveless land. + And when at last the hunted bison tires, + And dies o'ertaken by the squatter's fires; + And westward, wave on wave, the living flood + Breaks on the snow-line of majestic Hood; + And lonely Shasta listening hears the tread + Of Europe's fair-haired children, Hesper-led; + And, gazing downward through his boar-locks, sees + The tawny Asian climb his giant knees, + The Eastern sea shall hush his waves to hear + Pacific's surf-beat answer Freedom's cheer, + And one long rolling fire of triumph run + Between the sunrise and the sunset gun!" + + . . . . . . . . . . + + My task is done. The Showman and his show, + Themselves but shadows, into shadows go; + And, if no song of idlesse I have sung. + Nor tints of beauty on the canvas flung; + If the harsh numbers grate on tender ears, + And the rough picture overwrought appears, + With deeper coloring, with a sterner blast, + Before my soul a voice and vision passed, + Such as might Milton's jarring trump require, + Or glooms of Dante fringed with lurid fire. + Oh, not of choice, for themes of public wrong + I leave the green and pleasant paths of song, + The mild, sweet words which soften and adorn, + For sharp rebuke and bitter laugh of scorn. + More dear to me some song of private worth, + Some homely idyl of my native North, + Some summer pastoral of her inland vales, + Or, grim and weird, her winter fireside tales + Haunted by ghosts of unreturning sails, + Lost barks at parting hung from stem to helm + With prayers of love like dreams on Virgil's elm. + Nor private grief nor malice holds my pen; + I owe but kindness to my fellow-men; + And, South or North, wherever hearts of prayer + Their woes and weakness to our Father bear, + Wherever fruits of Christian love are found + In holy lives, to me is holy ground. + But the time passes. It were vain to crave + A late indulgence. What I had I gave. + Forget the poet, but his warning heed, + And shame his poor word with your nobler deed. + + 1856. + + + + +ON A PRAYER-BOOK, + +WITH ITS FRONTISPIECE, ARY SCHEFFER'S "CHRISTUS CONSOLATOR," +AMERICANIZED BY THE OMISSION OF THE BLACK MAN. + +It is hardly to be credited, yet is true, that in the anxiety of the +Northern merchant to conciliate his Southern customer, a publisher was +found ready thus to mutilate Scheffer's picture. He intended his edition +for use in the Southern States undoubtedly, but copies fell into the +hands of those who believed literally in a gospel which was to preach +liberty to the captive. + + + O ARY SCHEFFER! when beneath thine eye, + Touched with the light that cometh from above, + Grew the sweet picture of the dear Lord's love, + No dream hadst thou that Christian hands would tear + Therefrom the token of His equal care, + And make thy symbol of His truth a lie + The poor, dumb slave whose shackles fall away + In His compassionate gaze, grubbed smoothly out, + To mar no more the exercise devout + Of sleek oppression kneeling down to pray + Where the great oriel stains the Sabbath day! + Let whoso can before such praying-books + Kneel on his velvet cushion; I, for one, + Would sooner bow, a Parsee, to the sun, + Or tend a prayer-wheel in Thibetar brooks, + Or beat a drum on Yedo's temple-floor. + No falser idol man has bowed before, + In Indian groves or islands of the sea, + Than that which through the quaint-carved Gothic door + Looks forth,--a Church without humanity! + Patron of pride, and prejudice, and wrong,-- + The rich man's charm and fetich of the strong, + The Eternal Fulness meted, clipped, and shorn, + The seamless robe of equal mercy torn, + The dear Christ hidden from His kindred flesh, + And, in His poor ones, crucified afresh! + Better the simple Lama scattering wide, + Where sweeps the storm Alechan's steppes along, + His paper horses for the lost to ride, + And wearying Buddha with his prayers to make + The figures living for the traveller's sake, + Than he who hopes with cheap praise to beguile + The ear of God, dishonoring man the while; + Who dreams the pearl gate's hinges, rusty grown, + Are moved by flattery's oil of tongue alone; + That in the scale Eternal Justice bears + The generous deed weighs less than selfish prayers, + And words intoned with graceful unction move + The Eternal Goodness more than lives of truth and love. + Alas, the Church! The reverend head of Jay, + Enhaloed with its saintly silvered hair, + Adorns no more the places of her prayer; + And brave young Tyng, too early called away, + Troubles the Haman of her courts no more + Like the just Hebrew at the Assyrian's door; + And her sweet ritual, beautiful but dead + As the dry husk from which the grain is shed, + And holy hymns from which the life devout + Of saints and martyrs has wellnigh gone out, + Like candles dying in exhausted air, + For Sabbath use in measured grists are ground; + And, ever while the spiritual mill goes round, + Between the upper and the nether stones, + Unseen, unheard, the wretched bondman groans, + And urges his vain plea, prayer-smothered, anthem-drowned! + + O heart of mine, keep patience! Looking forth, + As from the Mount of Vision, I behold, + Pure, just, and free, the Church of Christ on earth; + The martyr's dream, the golden age foretold! + And found, at last, the mystic Graal I see, + Brimmed with His blessing, pass from lip to lip + In sacred pledge of human fellowship; + And over all the songs of angels hear; + Songs of the love that casteth out all fear; + Songs of the Gospel of Humanity! + Lo! in the midst, with the same look He wore, + Healing and blessing on Genesaret's shore, + Folding together, with the all-tender might + Of His great love, the dark bands and the white, + Stands the Consoler, soothing every pain, + Making all burdens light, and breaking every chain. + + 1859. + + + + +THE SUMMONS. + + MY ear is full of summer sounds, + Of summer sights my languid eye; + Beyond the dusty village bounds + I loiter in my daily rounds, + And in the noon-time shadows lie. + + I hear the wild bee wind his horn, + The bird swings on the ripened wheat, + The long green lances of the corn + Are tilting in the winds of morn, + The locust shrills his song of heat. + + Another sound my spirit hears, + A deeper sound that drowns them all; + A voice of pleading choked with tears, + The call of human hopes and fears, + The Macedonian cry to Paul! + + The storm-bell rings, the trumpet blows; + I know the word and countersign; + Wherever Freedom's vanguard goes, + Where stand or fall her friends or foes, + I know the place that should be mine. + + Shamed be the hands that idly fold, + And lips that woo the reed's accord, + When laggard Time the hour has tolled + For true with false and new with old + To fight the battles of the Lord! + + O brothers! blest by partial Fate + With power to match the will and deed, + To him your summons comes too late + Who sinks beneath his armor's weight, + And has no answer but God-speed! + 1860. + + + + +TO WILLIAM H. SEWARD. + +On the 12th of January, 1861, Mr. Seward delivered in the Senate chamber +a speech on The State of the Union, in which he urged the paramount duty +of preserving the Union, and went as far as it was possible to go, +without surrender of principles, in concessions to the Southern party, +concluding his argument with these words: "Having submitted my own +opinions on this great crisis, it remains only to say, that I shall +cheerfully lend to the government my best support in whatever prudent +yet energetic efforts it shall make to preserve the public peace, and to +maintain and preserve the Union; advising, only, that it practise, as +far as possible, the utmost moderation, forbearance, and conciliation. + +"This Union has not yet accomplished what good for mankind was manifestly +designed by Him who appoints the seasons and prescribes the duties of +states and empires. No; if it were cast down by faction to-day, it would +rise again and re-appear in all its majestic proportions to-morrow. It +is the only government that can stand here. Woe! woe! to the man that +madly lifts his hand against it. It shall continue and endure; and men, +in after times, shall declare that this generation, which saved the +Union from such sudden and unlooked-for dangers, surpassed in +magnanimity even that one which laid its foundations in the eternal +principles of liberty, justice, and humanity." + + + STATESMAN, I thank thee! and, if yet dissent + Mingles, reluctant, with my large content, + I cannot censure what was nobly meant. + But, while constrained to hold even Union less + Than Liberty and Truth and Righteousness, + I thank thee in the sweet and holy name + Of peace, for wise calm words that put to shame + Passion and party. Courage may be shown + Not in defiance of the wrong alone; + He may be bravest who, unweaponed, bears + The olive branch, and, strong in justice, spares + The rash wrong-doer, giving widest scope, + To Christian charity and generous hope. + If, without damage to the sacred cause + Of Freedom and the safeguard of its laws-- + If, without yielding that for which alone + We prize the Union, thou canst save it now + From a baptism of blood, upon thy brow + A wreath whose flowers no earthly soil have known; + Woven of the beatitudes, shall rest, + And the peacemaker be forever blest! + + 1861. + + + + + +IN WAR TIME. + +TO SAMUEL E. SEWALL AND HARRIET W. SEWAll, OF MELROSE. + +These lines to my old friends stood as dedication in the volume which +contained a collection of pieces under the general title of In War Time. +The group belonging distinctly under that title I have retained here; +the other pieces in the volume are distributed among the appropriate +divisions. + + OLOR ISCANUS queries: "Why should we + Vex at the land's ridiculous miserie?" + So on his Usk banks, in the blood-red dawn + Of England's civil strife, did careless Vaughan + Bemock his times. O friends of many years! + Though faith and trust are stronger than our fears, + And the signs promise peace with liberty, + Not thus we trifle with our country's tears + And sweat of agony. The future's gain + Is certain as God's truth; but, meanwhile, pain + Is bitter and tears are salt: our voices take + A sober tone; our very household songs + Are heavy with a nation's griefs and wrongs; + And innocent mirth is chastened for the sake + Of the brave hearts that nevermore shall beat, + The eyes that smile no more, the unreturning + feet! + + 1863 + + + + +THY WILL BE DONE. + + WE see not, know not; all our way + Is night,--with Thee alone is day + From out the torrent's troubled drift, + Above the storm our prayers we lift, + Thy will be done! + + The flesh may fail, the heart may faint, + But who are we to make complaint, + Or dare to plead, in times like these, + The weakness of our love of ease? + Thy will be done! + + We take with solemn thankfulness + Our burden up, nor ask it less, + And count it joy that even we + May suffer, serve, or wait for Thee, + Whose will be done! + + Though dim as yet in tint and line, + We trace Thy picture's wise design, + And thank Thee that our age supplies + Its dark relief of sacrifice. + Thy will be done! + + And if, in our unworthiness, + Thy sacrificial wine we press; + If from Thy ordeal's heated bars + Our feet are seamed with crimson scars, + Thy will be done! + + If, for the age to come, this hour + Of trial hath vicarious power, + And, blest by Thee, our present pain, + Be Liberty's eternal gain, + Thy will be done! + + Strike, Thou the Master, we Thy keys, + The anthem of the destinies! + The minor of Thy loftier strain, + Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain, + Thy will be done! + 1861. + + + + +A WORD FOR THE HOUR. + + THE firmament breaks up. In black eclipse + Light after light goes out. One evil star, + Luridly glaring through the smoke of war, + As in the dream of the Apocalypse, + Drags others down. Let us not weakly weep + Nor rashly threaten. Give us grace to keep + Our faith and patience; wherefore should we leap + On one hand into fratricidal fight, + Or, on the other, yield eternal right, + Frame lies of law, and good and ill confound? + What fear we? Safe on freedom's vantage-ground + Our feet are planted: let us there remain + In unrevengeful calm, no means untried + Which truth can sanction, no just claim denied, + The sad spectators of a suicide! + They break the links of Union: shall we light + The fires of hell to weld anew the chain + On that red anvil where each blow is pain? + Draw we not even now a freer breath, + As from our shoulders falls a load of death + Loathsome as that the Tuscan's victim bore + When keen with life to a dead horror bound? + Why take we up the accursed thing again? + Pity, forgive, but urge them back no more + Who, drunk with passion, flaunt disunion's rag + With its vile reptile-blazon. Let us press + The golden cluster on our brave old flag + In closer union, and, if numbering less, + Brighter shall shine the stars which still remain. + + 16th First mo., 1861. + + + + +"EIN FESTE BURG IST UNSER GOTT." + +LUTHER'S HYMN. + + WE wait beneath the furnace-blast + The pangs of transformation; + Not painlessly doth God recast + And mould anew the nation. + Hot burns the fire + Where wrongs expire; + Nor spares the hand + That from the land + Uproots the ancient evil. + + The hand-breadth cloud the sages feared + Its bloody rain is dropping; + The poison plant the fathers spared + All else is overtopping. + East, West, South, North, + It curses the earth; + All justice dies, + And fraud and lies + Live only in its shadow. + + What gives the wheat-field blades of steel? + What points the rebel cannon? + What sets the roaring rabble's heel + On the old star-spangled pennon? + What breaks the oath + Of the men o' the South? + What whets the knife + For the Union's life?-- + Hark to the answer: Slavery! + + Then waste no blows on lesser foes + In strife unworthy freemen. + God lifts to-day the veil, and shows + The features of the demon + O North and South, + Its victims both, + Can ye not cry, + "Let slavery die!" + And union find in freedom? + + What though the cast-out spirit tear + The nation in his going? + We who have shared the guilt must share + The pang of his o'erthrowing! + Whate'er the loss, + Whate'er the cross, + Shall they complain + Of present pain + Who trust in God's hereafter? + + For who that leans on His right arm + Was ever yet forsaken? + What righteous cause can suffer harm + If He its part has taken? + Though wild and loud, + And dark the cloud, + Behind its folds + His hand upholds + The calm sky of to-morrow! + + Above the maddening cry for blood, + Above the wild war-drumming, + Let Freedom's voice be heard, with good + The evil overcoming. + Give prayer and purse + To stay the Curse + Whose wrong we share, + Whose shame we bear, + Whose end shall gladden Heaven! + + In vain the bells of war shall ring + Of triumphs and revenges, + While still is spared the evil thing + That severs and estranges. + But blest the ear + That yet shall hear + The jubilant bell + That rings the knell + Of Slavery forever! + + Then let the selfish lip be dumb, + And hushed the breath of sighing; + Before the joy of peace must come + The pains of purifying. + God give us grace + Each in his place + To bear his lot, + And, murmuring not, + Endure and wait and labor! + + 1861. + + + + +TO JOHN C. FREMONT. + +On the 31st of August, 1861, General Fremont, then in charge of the +Western Department, issued a proclamation which contained a clause, +famous as the first announcement of emancipation: "The property," it +declared, "real and personal, of all persons in the State of Missouri, +who shall take up arms against the United States, or who shall be +directly proven to have taken active part with their enemies in the +field, is declared to be confiscated to the public use; and their +slaves, if any they have, are hereby declared free men." Mr. Lincoln +regarded the proclamation as premature and countermanded it, after +vainly endeavoring to persuade Fremont of his own motion to revoke it. + + + THY error, Fremont, simply was to act + A brave man's part, without the statesman's tact, + And, taking counsel but of common sense, + To strike at cause as well as consequence. + Oh, never yet since Roland wound his horn + At Roncesvalles, has a blast been blown + Far-heard, wide-echoed, startling as thine own, + Heard from the van of freedom's hope forlorn + It had been safer, doubtless, for the time, + To flatter treason, and avoid offence + To that Dark Power whose underlying crime + Heaves upward its perpetual turbulence. + But if thine be the fate of all who break + The ground for truth's seed, or forerun their years + Till lost in distance, or with stout hearts make + A lane for freedom through the level spears, + Still take thou courage! God has spoken through thee, + Irrevocable, the mighty words, Be free! + The land shakes with them, and the slave's dull ear + Turns from the rice-swamp stealthily to hear. + Who would recall them now must first arrest + The winds that blow down from the free Northwest, + Ruffling the Gulf; or like a scroll roll back + The Mississippi to its upper springs. + Such words fulfil their prophecy, and lack + But the full time to harden into things. + + 1861. + + + + +THE WATCHERS. + + BESIDE a stricken field I stood; + On the torn turf, on grass and wood, + Hung heavily the dew of blood. + + Still in their fresh mounds lay the slain, + But all the air was quick with pain + And gusty sighs and tearful rain. + + Two angels, each with drooping head + And folded wings and noiseless tread, + Watched by that valley of the dead. + + The one, with forehead saintly bland + And lips of blessing, not command, + Leaned, weeping, on her olive wand. + + The other's brows were scarred and knit, + His restless eyes were watch-fires lit, + His hands for battle-gauntlets fit. + + "How long!"--I knew the voice of Peace,-- + "Is there no respite? no release? + When shall the hopeless quarrel cease? + + "O Lord, how long!! One human soul + Is more than any parchment scroll, + Or any flag thy winds unroll. + + "What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave? + How weigh the gift that Lyon gave, + Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave? + + "O brother! if thine eye can see, + Tell how and when the end shall be, + What hope remains for thee and me." + + Then Freedom sternly said: "I shun + No strife nor pang beneath the sun, + When human rights are staked and won. + + "I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock, + I watched in Toussaint's cell of rock, + I walked with Sidney to the block. + + "The moor of Marston felt my tread, + Through Jersey snows the march I led, + My voice Magenta's charges sped. + + "But now, through weary day and night, + I watch a vague and aimless fight + For leave to strike one blow aright. + + "On either side my foe they own + One guards through love his ghastly throne, + And one through fear to reverence grown. + + "Why wait we longer, mocked, betrayed, + By open foes, or those afraid + To speed thy coming through my aid? + + "Why watch to see who win or fall? + I shake the dust against them all, + I leave them to their senseless brawl." + + "Nay," Peace implored: "yet longer wait; + The doom is near, the stake is great + God knoweth if it be too late. + + "Still wait and watch; the way prepare + Where I with folded wings of prayer + May follow, weaponless and bare." + + "Too late!" the stern, sad voice replied, + "Too late!" its mournful echo sighed, + In low lament the answer died. + + A rustling as of wings in flight, + An upward gleam of lessening white, + So passed the vision, sound and sight. + + But round me, like a silver bell + Rung down the listening sky to tell + Of holy help, a sweet voice fell. + + "Still hope and trust," it sang; "the rod + Must fall, the wine-press must be trod, + But all is possible with God!" + + 1862. + + + + +TO ENGLISHMEN. + +Written when, in the stress of our terrible war, the English ruling +class, with few exceptions, were either coldly indifferent or hostile to +the party of freedom. Their attitude was illustrated by caricatures of +America, among which was one of a slaveholder and cowhide, with the +motto, "Haven't I a right to wallop my nigger?" + + You flung your taunt across the wave + We bore it as became us, + Well knowing that the fettered slave + Left friendly lips no option save + To pity or to blame us. + + You scoffed our plea. "Mere lack of will, + Not lack of power," you told us + We showed our free-state records; still + You mocked, confounding good and ill, + Slave-haters and slaveholders. + + We struck at Slavery; to the verge + Of power and means we checked it; + Lo!--presto, change! its claims you urge, + Send greetings to it o'er the surge, + And comfort and protect it. + + But yesterday you scarce could shake, + In slave-abhorring rigor, + Our Northern palms for conscience' sake + To-day you clasp the hands that ache + With "walloping the nigger!" + + O Englishmen!--in hope and creed, + In blood and tongue our brothers! + We too are heirs of Runnymede; + And Shakespeare's fame and Cromwell's deed + Are not alone our mother's. + + "Thicker than water," in one rill + Through centuries of story + Our Saxon blood has flowed, and still + We share with you its good and ill, + The shadow and the glory. + + Joint heirs and kinfolk, leagues of wave + Nor length of years can part us + Your right is ours to shrine and grave, + The common freehold of the brave, + The gift of saints and martyrs. + + Our very sins and follies teach + Our kindred frail and human + We carp at faults with bitter speech, + The while, for one unshared by each, + We have a score in common. + + We bowed the heart, if not the knee, + To England's Queen, God bless her + We praised you when your slaves went free + We seek to unchain ours. Will ye + Join hands with the oppressor? + + And is it Christian England cheers + The bruiser, not the bruised? + And must she run, despite the tears + And prayers of eighteen hundred years, + Amuck in Slavery's crusade? + + Oh, black disgrace! Oh, shame and loss + Too deep for tongue to phrase on + Tear from your flag its holy cross, + And in your van of battle toss + The pirate's skull-bone blazon! + + 1862. + + + + +MITHRIDATES AT CHIOS. + +It is recorded that the Chians, when subjugated by Mithridates of +Cappadocia, were delivered up to their own slaves, to be carried away +captive to Colchis. Athenxus considers this a just punishment for their +wickedness in first introducing the slave-trade into Greece. From this +ancient villany of the Chians the proverb arose, "The Chian hath bought +himself a master." + + + KNOW'ST thou, O slave-cursed land + How, when the Chian's cup of guilt + Was full to overflow, there came + God's justice in the sword of flame + That, red with slaughter to its hilt, + Blazed in the Cappadocian victor's hand? + + The heavens are still and far; + But, not unheard of awful Jove, + The sighing of the island slave + Was answered, when the AEgean wave + The keels of Mithridates clove, + And the vines shrivelled in the breath of war. + + "Robbers of Chios! hark," + The victor cried, "to Heaven's decree! + Pluck your last cluster from the vine, + Drain your last cup of Chian wine; + Slaves of your slaves, your doom shall be, + In Colchian mines by Phasis rolling dark." + + Then rose the long lament + From the hoar sea-god's dusky caves + The priestess rent her hair and cried, + "Woe! woe! The gods are sleepless-eyed!" + And, chained and scourged, the slaves of slaves, + The lords of Chios into exile went. + + "The gods at last pay well," + So Hellas sang her taunting song, + "The fisher in his net is caught, + The Chian hath his master bought;" + And isle from isle, with laughter long, + Took up and sped the mocking parable. + + Once more the slow, dumb years + Bring their avenging cycle round, + And, more than Hellas taught of old, + Our wiser lesson shall be told, + Of slaves uprising, freedom-crowned, + To break, not wield, the scourge wet with their + blood and tears. + + 1868. + + + + +AT PORT ROYAL. + +In November, 1861, a Union force under Commodore Dupont and General +Sherman captured Port Royal, and from this point as a basis of +operations, the neighboring islands between Charleston and Savannah were +taken possession of. The early occupation of this district, where the +negro population was greatly in excess of the white, gave an opportunity +which was at once seized upon, of practically emancipating the slaves +and of beginning that work of civilization which was accepted as the +grave responsibility of those who had labored for freedom. + + + THE tent-lights glimmer on the land, + The ship-lights on the sea; + The night-wind smooths with drifting sand + Our track on lone Tybee. + + At last our grating keels outslide, + Our good boats forward swing; + And while we ride the land-locked tide, + Our negroes row and sing. + + For dear the bondman holds his gifts + Of music and of song + The gold that kindly Nature sifts + Among his sands of wrong: + + The power to make his toiling days + And poor home-comforts please; + The quaint relief of mirth that plays + With sorrow's minor keys. + + Another glow than sunset's fire + Has filled the west with light, + Where field and garner, barn and byre, + Are blazing through the night. + + The land is wild with fear and hate, + The rout runs mad and fast; + From hand to hand, from gate to gate + The flaming brand is passed. + + The lurid glow falls strong across + Dark faces broad with smiles + Not theirs the terror, hate, and loss + That fire yon blazing piles. + + With oar-strokes timing to their song, + They weave in simple lays + The pathos of remembered wrong, + The hope of better days,-- + + The triumph-note that Miriam sung, + The joy of uncaged birds + Softening with Afric's mellow tongue + Their broken Saxon words. + + + + +SONG OF THE NEGRO BOATMEN. + + Oh, praise an' tanks! De Lord he come + To set de people free; + An' massa tink it day ob doom, + An' we ob jubilee. + De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves + He jus' as 'trong as den; + He say de word: we las' night slaves; + To-day, de Lord's freemen. + De yam will grow, de cotton blow, + We'll hab de rice an' corn; + Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear + De driver blow his horn! + + Ole massa on he trabbels gone; + He leaf de land behind + De Lord's breff blow him furder on, + Like corn-shuck in de wind. + We own de hoe, we own de plough, + We own de hands dat hold; + We sell de pig, we sell de cow, + But nebber chile be sold. + De yam will grow, de cotton blow, + We'll hab de rice an' corn; + Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear + De driver blow his horn! + + We pray de Lord: he gib us signs + Dat some day we be free; + De norf-wind tell it to de pines, + De wild-duck to de sea; + We tink it when de church-bell ring, + We dream it in de dream; + De rice-bird mean it when he sing, + De eagle when be scream. + De yam will grow, de cotton blow, + We'll hab de rice an' corn + Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear + De driver blow his horn! + + We know de promise nebber fail, + An' nebber lie de word; + So like de 'postles in de jail, + We waited for de Lord + An' now he open ebery door, + An' trow away de key; + He tink we lub him so before, + We hub him better free. + De yam will grow, de cotton blow, + He'll gib de rice an' corn; + Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear + De driver blow his horn! + + So sing our dusky gondoliers; + And with a secret pain, + And smiles that seem akin to tears, + We hear the wild refrain. + + We dare not share the negro's trust, + Nor yet his hope deny; + We only know that God is just, + And every wrong shall die. + + Rude seems the song; each swarthy face, + Flame-lighted, ruder still + We start to think that hapless race + Must shape our good or ill; + + That laws of changeless justice bind + Oppressor with oppressed; + And, close as sin and suffering joined, + We march to Fate abreast. + + Sing on, poor hearts! your chant shall be + Our sign of blight or bloom, + The Vala-song of Liberty, + Or death-rune of our doom! + + 1862. + + + + +ASTRAEA AT THE CAPITOL. + +ABOLITION OF SLAVERY IN THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, 1862. + + WHEN first I saw our banner wave + Above the nation's council-hall, + I heard beneath its marble wall + The clanking fetters of the slave! + + In the foul market-place I stood, + And saw the Christian mother sold, + And childhood with its locks of gold, + Blue-eyed and fair with Saxon blood. + + I shut my eyes, I held my breath, + And, smothering down the wrath and shame + That set my Northern blood aflame, + Stood silent,--where to speak was death. + + Beside me gloomed the prison-cell + Where wasted one in slow decline + For uttering simple words of mine, + And loving freedom all too well. + + The flag that floated from the dome + Flapped menace in the morning air; + I stood a perilled stranger where + The human broker made his home. + + For crime was virtue: Gown and Sword + And Law their threefold sanction gave, + And to the quarry of the slave + Went hawking with our symbol-bird. + + On the oppressor's side was power; + And yet I knew that every wrong, + However old, however strong, + But waited God's avenging hour. + + I knew that truth would crush the lie, + Somehow, some time, the end would be; + Yet scarcely dared I hope to see + The triumph with my mortal eye. + + But now I see it! In the sun + A free flag floats from yonder dome, + And at the nation's hearth and home + The justice long delayed is done. + + Not as we hoped, in calm of prayer, + The message of deliverance comes, + But heralded by roll of drums + On waves of battle-troubled air! + + Midst sounds that madden and appall, + The song that Bethlehem's shepherds knew! + The harp of David melting through + The demon-agonies of Saul! + + Not as we hoped; but what are we? + Above our broken dreams and plans + God lays, with wiser hand than man's, + The corner-stones of liberty. + + I cavil not with Him: the voice + That freedom's blessed gospel tells + Is sweet to me as silver bells, + Rejoicing! yea, I will rejoice! + + Dear friends still toiling in the sun; + Ye dearer ones who, gone before, + Are watching from the eternal shore + The slow work by your hands begun, + + Rejoice with me! The chastening rod + Blossoms with love; the furnace heat + Grows cool beneath His blessed feet + Whose form is as the Son of God! + + Rejoice! Our Marah's bitter springs + Are sweetened; on our ground of grief + Rise day by day in strong relief + The prophecies of better things. + + Rejoice in hope! The day and night + Are one with God, and one with them + Who see by faith the cloudy hem + Of Judgment fringed with Mercy's light. + + 1862. + + + + +THE BATTLE AUTUMN OF 1862. + + THE flags of war like storm-birds fly, + The charging trumpets blow; + Yet rolls no thunder in the sky, + No earthquake strives below. + + And, calm and patient, Nature keeps + Her ancient promise well, + Though o'er her bloom and greenness sweeps + The battle's breath of hell. + + And still she walks in golden hours + Through harvest-happy farms, + And still she wears her fruits and flowers + Like jewels on her arms. + + What mean the gladness of the plain, + This joy of eve and morn, + The mirth that shakes the beard of grain + And yellow locks of corn? + + Ah! eyes may well be full of tears, + And hearts with hate are hot; + But even-paced come round the years, + And Nature changes not. + + She meets with smiles our bitter grief, + With songs our groans of pain; + She mocks with tint of flower and leaf + The war-field's crimson stain. + + Still, in the cannon's pause, we hear + Her sweet thanksgiving-psalm; + Too near to God for doubt or fear, + She shares the eternal calm. + + She knows the seed lies safe below + The fires that blast and burn; + For all the tears of blood we sow + She waits the rich return. + + She sees with clearer eve than ours + The good of suffering born,-- + The hearts that blossom like her flowers, + And ripen like her corn. + + Oh, give to us, in times like these, + The vision of her eyes; + And make her fields and fruited trees + Our golden prophecies + + Oh, give to us her finer ear + Above this stormy din, + We too would hear the bells of cheer + Ring peace and freedom in. + + 1862. + + + + +HYMN, + +SUNG AT CHRISTMAS BY THE SCHOLARS OF ST. HELENA'S ISLAND, S. C. + + OH, none in all the world before + Were ever glad as we! + We're free on Carolina's shore, + We're all at home and free. + + Thou Friend and Helper of the poor, + Who suffered for our sake, + To open every prison door, + And every yoke to break! + + Bend low Thy pitying face and mild, + And help us sing and pray; + The hand that blessed the little child, + Upon our foreheads lay. + + We hear no more the driver's horn, + No more the whip we fear, + This holy day that saw Thee born + Was never half so dear. + + The very oaks are greener clad, + The waters brighter smile; + Oh, never shone a day so glad + On sweet St. Helen's Isle. + + We praise Thee in our songs to-day, + To Thee in prayer we call, + Make swift the feet and straight the way + Of freedom unto all. + + Come once again, O blessed Lord! + Come walking on the sea! + And let the mainlands hear the word + That sets the islands free! + + 1863. + + + + +THE PROCLAMATION. + +President Lincoln's proclamation of emancipation was issued +January 1, 1863. + + + SAINT PATRICK, slave to Milcho of the herds + Of Ballymena, wakened with these words + "Arise, and flee + Out from the land of bondage, and be free!" + + Glad as a soul in pain, who hears from heaven + The angels singing of his sins forgiven, + And, wondering, sees + His prison opening to their golden keys, + + He rose a man who laid him down a slave, + Shook from his locks the ashes of the grave, + And outward trod + Into the glorious liberty of God. + + He cast the symbols of his shame away; + And, passing where the sleeping Milcho lay, + Though back and limb + Smarted with wrong, he prayed, "God pardon + him!" + + So went he forth; but in God's time he came + To light on Uilline's hills a holy flame; + And, dying, gave + The land a saint that lost him as a slave. + + O dark, sad millions, patiently and dumb + Waiting for God, your hour at last has come, + And freedom's song + Breaks the long silence of your night of wrong! + + Arise and flee! shake off the vile restraint + Of ages; but, like Ballymena's saint, + The oppressor spare, + Heap only on his head the coals of prayer. + + Go forth, like him! like him return again, + To bless the land whereon in bitter pain + Ye toiled at first, + And heal with freedom what your slavery cursed. + + 1863. + + + + +ANNIVERSARY POEM. + +Read before the Alumni of the Friends' Yearly Meeting School, at the +Annual Meeting at Newport, R. I., 15th 6th mo., 1863. + + + ONCE more, dear friends, you meet beneath + A clouded sky + Not yet the sword has found its sheath, + And on the sweet spring airs the breath + Of war floats by. + + Yet trouble springs not from the ground, + Nor pain from chance; + The Eternal order circles round, + And wave and storm find mete and bound + In Providence. + + Full long our feet the flowery ways + Of peace have trod, + Content with creed and garb and phrase: + A harder path in earlier days + Led up to God. + + Too cheaply truths, once purchased dear, + Are made our own; + Too long the world has smiled to hear + Our boast of full corn in the ear + By others sown; + + To see us stir the martyr fires + Of long ago, + And wrap our satisfied desires + In the singed mantles that our sires + Have dropped below. + + But now the cross our worthies bore + On us is laid; + Profession's quiet sleep is o'er, + And in the scale of truth once more + Our faith is weighed. + + The cry of innocent blood at last + Is calling down + An answer in the whirlwind-blast, + The thunder and the shadow cast + From Heaven's dark frown. + + The land is red with judgments. Who + Stands guiltless forth? + Have we been faithful as we knew, + To God and to our brother true, + To Heaven and Earth. + + How faint, through din of merchandise + And count of gain, + Have seemed to us the captive's cries! + How far away the tears and sighs + Of souls in pain! + + This day the fearful reckoning comes + To each and all; + We hear amidst our peaceful homes + The summons of the conscript drums, + The bugle's call. + + Our path is plain; the war-net draws + Round us in vain, + While, faithful to the Higher Cause, + We keep our fealty to the laws + Through patient pain. + + The levelled gun, the battle-brand, + We may not take + But, calmly loyal, we can stand + And suffer with our suffering land + For conscience' sake. + + Why ask for ease where all is pain? + Shall we alone + Be left to add our gain to gain, + When over Armageddon's plain + The trump is blown? + + To suffer well is well to serve; + Safe in our Lord + The rigid lines of law shall curve + To spare us; from our heads shall swerve + Its smiting sword. + + And light is mingled with the gloom, + And joy with grief; + Divinest compensations come, + Through thorns of judgment mercies bloom + In sweet relief. + + Thanks for our privilege to bless, + By word and deed, + The widow in her keen distress, + The childless and the fatherless, + The hearts that bleed! + + For fields of duty, opening wide, + Where all our powers + Are tasked the eager steps to guide + Of millions on a path untried + The slave is ours! + + Ours by traditions dear and old, + Which make the race + Our wards to cherish and uphold, + And cast their freedom in the mould + Of Christian grace. + + And we may tread the sick-bed floors + Where strong men pine, + And, down the groaning corridors, + Pour freely from our liberal stores + The oil and wine. + + Who murmurs that in these dark days + His lot is cast? + God's hand within the shadow lays + The stones whereon His gates of praise + Shall rise at last. + + Turn and o'erturn, O outstretched Hand + Nor stint, nor stay; + The years have never dropped their sand + On mortal issue vast and grand + As ours to-day. + + Already, on the sable ground + Of man's despair + Is Freedom's glorious picture found, + With all its dusky hands unbound + Upraised in prayer. + + Oh, small shall seem all sacrifice + And pain and loss, + When God shall wipe the weeping eyes, + For suffering give the victor's prize, + The crown for cross. + + + + +BARBARA FRIETCHIE. + +This poem was written in strict conformity to the account of the +incident as I had it from respectable and trustworthy sources. It has +since been the subject of a good deal of conflicting testimony, and the +story was probably incorrect in some of its details. It is admitted by +all that Barbara Frietchie was no myth, but a worthy and highly esteemed +gentlewoman, intensely loyal and a hater of the Slavery Rebellion, +holding her Union flag sacred and keeping it with her Bible; that when +the Confederates halted before her house, and entered her dooryard, she +denounced them in vigorous language, shook her cane in their faces, and +drove them out; and when General Burnside's troops followed close upon +Jackson's, she waved her flag and cheered them. It is stated that May +Qnantrell, a brave and loyal lady in another part of the city, did wave +her flag in sight of the Confederates. It is possible that there has +been a blending of the two incidents. + + + Up from the meadows rich with corn, + Clear in the cool September morn. + + The clustered spires of Frederick stand + Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. + + Round about them orchards sweep, + Apple and peach tree fruited deep, + + Fair as the garden of the Lord + To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, + + On that pleasant morn of the early fall + When Lee marched over the mountain-wall; + + Over the mountains winding down, + Horse and foot, into Frederick town. + + Forty flags with their silver stars, + Forty flags with their crimson bars, + + Flapped in the morning wind: the sun + Of noon looked down, and saw not one. + + Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, + Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; + + Bravest of all in Frederick town, + She took up the flag the men hauled down; + + In her attic window the staff she set, + To show that one heart was loyal yet. + + Up the street came the rebel tread, + Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. + + Under his slouched hat left and right + He glanced; the old flag met his sight. + + "Halt!"--the dust-brown ranks stood fast. + "Fire!"--out blazed the rifle-blast. + + It shivered the window, pane and sash; + It rent the banner with seam and gash. + + Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff + Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. + + She leaned far out on the window-sill, + And shook it forth with a royal will. + + "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, + But spare your country's flag," she said. + + A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, + Over the face of the leader came; + + The nobler nature within him stirred + To life at that woman's deed and word. + + "Who touches a hair of yon gray head + Dies like a dog! March on!" he said. + + All day long through Frederick street + Sounded the tread of marching feet. + + All day long that free flag tost + Over the heads of the rebel host. + + Ever its torn folds rose and fell + On the loyal winds that loved it well; + + And through the hill-gaps sunset light + Shone over it with a warm good-night. + + Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, + And the Rebel rides on his raids no more. + + Honor to her! and let a tear + Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. + + Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, + Flag of Freedom and Union, wave! + + Peace and order and beauty draw + Round thy symbol of light and law; + + And ever the stars above look down + On thy stars below in Frederick town! + + 1863. + + + + +WHAT THE BIRDS SAID. + + THE birds against the April wind + Flew northward, singing as they flew; + They sang, "The land we leave behind + Has swords for corn-blades, blood for dew." + + "O wild-birds, flying from the South, + What saw and heard ye, gazing down?" + "We saw the mortar's upturned mouth, + The sickened camp, the blazing town! + + "Beneath the bivouac's starry lamps, + We saw your march-worn children die; + In shrouds of moss, in cypress swamps, + We saw your dead uncoffined lie. + + "We heard the starving prisoner's sighs, + And saw, from line and trench, your sons + Follow our flight with home-sick eyes + Beyond the battery's smoking guns." + + "And heard and saw ye only wrong + And pain," I cried, "O wing-worn flocks?" + "We heard," they sang, "the freedman's song, + The crash of Slavery's broken locks! + + "We saw from new, uprising States + The treason-nursing mischief spurned, + As, crowding Freedom's ample gates, + The long estranged and lost returned. + + "O'er dusky faces, seamed and old, + And hands horn-hard with unpaid toil, + With hope in every rustling fold, + We saw your star-dropt flag uncoil. + + "And struggling up through sounds accursed, + A grateful murmur clomb the air; + A whisper scarcely heard at first, + It filled the listening heavens with prayer. + + "And sweet and far, as from a star, + Replied a voice which shall not cease, + Till, drowning all the noise of war, + It sings the blessed song of peace!" + + So to me, in a doubtful day + Of chill and slowly greening spring, + Low stooping from the cloudy gray, + The wild-birds sang or seemed to sing. + + They vanished in the misty air, + The song went with them in their flight; + But lo! they left the sunset fair, + And in the evening there was light. + April, 1864. + + + + +THE MANTLE OF ST. JOHN DE MATHA. + +A LEGEND OF "THE RED, WHITE, AND BLUE," A. D. 1154-1864. + + A STRONG and mighty Angel, + Calm, terrible, and bright, + The cross in blended red and blue + Upon his mantle white. + + Two captives by him kneeling, + Each on his broken chain, + Sang praise to God who raiseth + The dead to life again! + + Dropping his cross-wrought mantle, + "Wear this," the Angel said; + "Take thou, O Freedom's priest, its sign, + The white, the blue, and red." + + Then rose up John de Matha + In the strength the Lord Christ gave, + And begged through all the land of France + The ransom of the slave. + + The gates of tower and castle + Before him open flew, + The drawbridge at his coming fell, + The door-bolt backward drew. + + For all men owned his errand, + And paid his righteous tax; + And the hearts of lord and peasant + Were in his hands as wax. + + At last, outbound from Tunis, + His bark her anchor weighed, + Freighted with seven-score Christian souls + Whose ransom he had paid. + + But, torn by Paynim hatred, + Her sails in tatters hung; + And on the wild waves, rudderless, + A shattered hulk she swung. + + "God save us!" cried the captain, + "For naught can man avail; + Oh, woe betide the ship that lacks + Her rudder and her sail! + + "Behind us are the Moormen; + At sea we sink or strand + There's death upon the water, + There's death upon the land!" + + Then up spake John de Matha + "God's errands never fail! + Take thou the mantle which I wear, + And make of it a sail." + + They raised the cross-wrought mantle, + The blue, the white, the red; + And straight before the wind off-shore + The ship of Freedom sped. + + "God help us!" cried the seamen, + "For vain is mortal skill + The good ship on a stormy sea + Is drifting at its will." + + Then up spake John de Matha + "My mariners, never fear + The Lord whose breath has filled her sail + May well our vessel steer!" + + So on through storm and darkness + They drove for weary hours; + And lo! the third gray morning shone + On Ostia's friendly towers. + + And on the walls the watchers + The ship of mercy knew, + They knew far off its holy cross, + The red, the white, and blue. + + And the bells in all the steeples + Rang out in glad accord, + To welcome home to Christian soil + The ransomed of the Lord. + + So runs the ancient legend + By bard and painter told; + And lo! the cycle rounds again, + The new is as the old! + + With rudder foully broken, + And sails by traitors torn, + Our country on a midnight sea + Is waiting for the morn. + + Before her, nameless terror; + Behind, the pirate foe; + The clouds are black above her, + The sea is white below. + + The hope of all who suffer, + The dread of all who wrong, + She drifts in darkness and in storm, + How long, O Lord I how long? + + But courage, O my mariners + Ye shall not suffer wreck, + While up to God the freedman's prayers + Are rising from your deck. + + Is not your sail the banner + Which God hath blest anew, + The mantle that De Matha wore, + The red, the white, the blue? + + Its hues are all of heaven, + The red of sunset's dye, + The whiteness of the moon-lit cloud, + The blue of morning's sky. + + Wait cheerily, then, O mariners, + For daylight and for land; + The breath of God is in your sail, + Your rudder is His hand. + + Sail on, sail on, deep-freighted + With blessings and with hopes; + The saints of old with shadowy hands + Are pulling at your ropes. + + Behind ye holy martyrs + Uplift the palm and crown; + Before ye unborn ages send + Their benedictions down. + + Take heart from John de Matha!-- + God's errands never fail! + Sweep on through storm and darkness, + The thunder and the hail! + + Sail on! The morning cometh, + The port ye yet shall win; + And all the bells of God shall ring + The good ship bravely in! + + 1865. + + + + +LAUS DEO! + +On hearing the bells ring on the passage of the constitutional amendment +abolishing slavery. The resolution was adopted by Congress, January 31, +1865. The ratification by the requisite number of states was announced +December 18, 1865. + + + IT is done! + Clang of bell and roar of gun + Send the tidings up and down. + How the belfries rock and reel! + How the great guns, peal on peal, + Fling the joy from town to town! + + Ring, O bells! + Every stroke exulting tells + Of the burial hour of crime. + Loud and long, that all may hear, + Ring for every listening ear + Of Eternity and Time! + + Let us kneel + God's own voice is in that peal, + And this spot is holy ground. + Lord, forgive us! What are we, + That our eyes this glory see, + That our ears have heard the sound! + + For the Lord + On the whirlwind is abroad; + In the earthquake He has spoken; + He has smitten with His thunder + The iron walls asunder, + And the gates of brass are broken. + + Loud and long + Lift the old exulting song; + Sing with Miriam by the sea, + He has cast the mighty down; + Horse and rider sink and drown; + "He hath triumphed gloriously!" + + Did we dare, + In our agony of prayer, + Ask for more than He has done? + When was ever His right hand + Over any time or land + Stretched as now beneath the sun? + + How they pale, + Ancient myth and song and tale, + In this wonder of our days, + When the cruel rod of war + Blossoms white with righteous law, + And the wrath of man is praise! + + Blotted out + All within and all about + Shall a fresher life begin; + Freer breathe the universe + As it rolls its heavy curse + On the dead and buried sin! + + It is done! + In the circuit of the sun + Shall the sound thereof go forth. + It shall bid the sad rejoice, + It shall give the dumb a voice, + It shall belt with joy the earth! + + Ring and swing, + Bells of joy! On morning's wing + Send the song of praise abroad! + With a sound of broken chains + Tell the nations that He reigns, + Who alone is Lord and God! + + 1865. + + + + +HYMN FOR THE CELEBRATION OF EMANCIPATION AT NEWBURYPORT. + + NOT unto us who did but seek + The word that burned within to speak, + Not unto us this day belong + The triumph and exultant song. + + Upon us fell in early youth + The burden of unwelcome truth, + And left us, weak and frail and few, + The censor's painful work to do. + + Thenceforth our life a fight became, + The air we breathed was hot with blame; + For not with gauged and softened tone + We made the bondman's cause our own. + + We bore, as Freedom's hope forlorn, + The private hate, the public scorn; + Yet held through all the paths we trod + Our faith in man and trust in God. + + We prayed and hoped; but still, with awe, + The coming of the sword we saw; + We heard the nearing steps of doom, + We saw the shade of things to come. + + In grief which they alone can feel + Who from a mother's wrong appeal, + With blended lines of fear and hope + We cast our country's horoscope. + + For still within her house of life + We marked the lurid sign of strife, + And, poisoning and imbittering all, + We saw the star of Wormwood fall. + + Deep as our love for her became + Our hate of all that wrought her shame, + And if, thereby, with tongue and pen + We erred,--we were but mortal men. + + We hoped for peace; our eyes survey + The blood-red dawn of Freedom's day + We prayed for love to loose the chain; + 'T is shorn by battle's axe in twain! + + Nor skill nor strength nor zeal of ours + Has mined and heaved the hostile towers; + Not by our hands is turned the key + That sets the sighing captives free. + + A redder sea than Egypt's wave + Is piled and parted for the slave; + A darker cloud moves on in light; + A fiercer fire is guide by night. + + The praise, O Lord! is Thine alone, + In Thy own way Thy work is done! + Our poor gifts at Thy feet we cast, + To whom be glory, first and last! + + 1865. + + + + + +AFTER THE WAR. + + + + +THE PEACE AUTUMN. + +Written for the Fssex County Agricultural Festival, 1865. + + + THANK God for rest, where none molest, + And none can make afraid; + For Peace that sits as Plenty's guest + Beneath the homestead shade! + + Bring pike and gun, the sword's red scourge, + The negro's broken chains, + And beat them at the blacksmith's forge + To ploughshares for our plains. + + Alike henceforth our hills of snow, + And vales where cotton flowers; + All streams that flow, all winds that blow, + Are Freedom's motive-powers. + + Henceforth to Labor's chivalry + Be knightly honors paid; + For nobler than the sword's shall be + The sickle's accolade. + + Build up an altar to the Lord, + O grateful hearts of ours + And shape it of the greenest sward + That ever drank the showers. + + Lay all the bloom of gardens there, + And there the orchard fruits; + Bring golden grain from sun and air, + From earth her goodly roots. + + There let our banners droop and flow, + The stars uprise and fall; + Our roll of martyrs, sad and slow, + Let sighing breezes call. + + Their names let hands of horn and tan + And rough-shod feet applaud, + Who died to make the slave a man, + And link with toil reward. + + There let the common heart keep time + To such an anthem sung + As never swelled on poet's rhyme, + Or thrilled on singer's tongue. + + Song of our burden and relief, + Of peace and long annoy; + The passion of our mighty grief + And our exceeding joy! + + A song of praise to Him who filled + The harvests sown in tears, + And gave each field a double yield + To feed our battle-years. + + A song of faith that trusts the end + To match the good begun, + Nor doubts the power of Love to blend + The hearts of men as one! + + + + +TO THE THIRTY-NINTH CONGRESS. + +The thirty-ninth congress was that which met in 1865 after the close of +the war, when it was charged with the great question of reconstruction; +the uppermost subject in men's minds was the standing of those who had +recently been in arms against the Union and their relations to the +freedmen. + + + O PEOPLE-CHOSEN! are ye not + Likewise the chosen of the Lord, + To do His will and speak His word? + + From the loud thunder-storm of war + Not man alone hath called ye forth, + But He, the God of all the earth! + + The torch of vengeance in your hands + He quenches; unto Him belongs + The solemn recompense of wrongs. + + Enough of blood the land has seen, + And not by cell or gallows-stair + Shall ye the way of God prepare. + + Say to the pardon-seekers: Keep + Your manhood, bend no suppliant knees, + Nor palter with unworthy pleas. + + Above your voices sounds the wail + Of starving men; we shut in vain * + Our eyes to Pillow's ghastly stain. ** + + What words can drown that bitter cry? + What tears wash out the stain of death? + What oaths confirm your broken faith? + + From you alone the guaranty + Of union, freedom, peace, we claim; + We urge no conqueror's terms of shame. + + Alas! no victor's pride is ours; + We bend above our triumphs won + Like David o'er his rebel son. + + Be men, not beggars. Cancel all + By one brave, generous action; trust + Your better instincts, and be just. + + Make all men peers before the law, + Take hands from off the negro's throat, + Give black and white an equal vote. + + Keep all your forfeit lives and lands, + But give the common law's redress + To labor's utter nakedness. + + Revive the old heroic will; + Be in the right as brave and strong + As ye have proved yourselves in wrong. + + Defeat shall then be victory, + Your loss the wealth of full amends, + And hate be love, and foes be friends. + + Then buried be the dreadful past, + Its common slain be mourned, and let + All memories soften to regret. + + Then shall the Union's mother-heart + Her lost and wandering ones recall, + Forgiving and restoring all,-- + + And Freedom break her marble trance + Above the Capitolian dome, + Stretch hands, and bid ye welcome home + November, 1865. + + * Andersonville prison. + ** The massacre of Negro troops at Fort Pillow. + + + + +THE HIVE AT GETTYSBURG. + + IN the old Hebrew myth the lion's frame, + So terrible alive, + Bleached by the desert's sun and wind, became + The wandering wild bees' hive; + And he who, lone and naked-handed, tore + Those jaws of death apart, + In after time drew forth their honeyed store + To strengthen his strong heart. + + Dead seemed the legend: but it only slept + To wake beneath our sky; + Just on the spot whence ravening Treason crept + Back to its lair to die, + Bleeding and torn from Freedom's mountain bounds, + A stained and shattered drum + Is now the hive where, on their flowery rounds, + The wild bees go and come. + + Unchallenged by a ghostly sentinel, + They wander wide and far, + Along green hillsides, sown with shot and shell, + Through vales once choked with war. + The low reveille of their battle-drum + Disturbs no morning prayer; + With deeper peace in summer noons their hum + Fills all the drowsy air. + + And Samson's riddle is our own to-day, + Of sweetness from the strong, + Of union, peace, and freedom plucked away + From the rent jaws of wrong. + From Treason's death we draw a purer life, + As, from the beast he slew, + A sweetness sweeter for his bitter strife + The old-time athlete drew! + 1868. + + + + +HOWARD AT ATLANTA. + + RIGHT in the track where Sherman + Ploughed his red furrow, + Out of the narrow cabin, + Up from the cellar's burrow, + Gathered the little black people, + With freedom newly dowered, + Where, beside their Northern teacher, + Stood the soldier, Howard. + + He listened and heard the children + Of the poor and long-enslaved + Reading the words of Jesus, + Singing the songs of David. + Behold!--the dumb lips speaking, + The blind eyes seeing! + Bones of the Prophet's vision + Warmed into being! + + Transformed he saw them passing + Their new life's portal + Almost it seemed the mortal + Put on the immortal. + No more with the beasts of burden, + No more with stone and clod, + But crowned with glory and honor + In the image of God! + + There was the human chattel + Its manhood taking; + There, in each dark, bronze statue, + A soul was waking! + The man of many battles, + With tears his eyelids pressing, + Stretched over those dusky foreheads + His one-armed blessing. + + And he said: "Who hears can never + Fear for or doubt you; + What shall I tell the children + Up North about you?" + Then ran round a whisper, a murmur, + Some answer devising: + And a little boy stood up: "General, + Tell 'em we're rising!" + + O black boy of Atlanta! + But half was spoken + The slave's chain and the master's + Alike are broken. + The one curse of the races + Held both in tether + They are rising,--all are rising, + The black and white together! + + O brave men and fair women! + Ill comes of hate and scorning + Shall the dark faces only + Be turned to mourning?-- + Make Time your sole avenger, + All-healing, all-redressing; + Meet Fate half-way, and make it + A joy and blessing! + + 1869. + + + + +THE EMANCIPATION GROUP. + +Moses Kimball, a citizen of Boston, presented to the city a duplicate +of the Freedman's Memorial statue erected in Lincoln Square, Washington. +The group, which stands in Park Square, represents the figure of a +slave, from whose limbs the broken fetters have fallen, kneeling in +gratitude at the feet of Lincoln. The group was designed by Thomas Ball, +and was unveiled December 9, 1879. These verses were written for the +occasion. + + AMIDST thy sacred effigies + Of old renown give place, + O city, Freedom-loved! to his + Whose hand unchained a race. + + Take the worn frame, that rested not + Save in a martyr's grave; + The care-lined face, that none forgot, + Bent to the kneeling slave. + + Let man be free! The mighty word + He spake was not his own; + An impulse from the Highest stirred + These chiselled lips alone. + + The cloudy sign, the fiery guide, + Along his pathway ran, + And Nature, through his voice, denied + The ownership of man. + + We rest in peace where these sad eyes + Saw peril, strife, and pain; + His was the nation's sacrifice, + And ours the priceless gain. + + O symbol of God's will on earth + As it is done above! + Bear witness to the cost and worth + Of justice and of love. + + Stand in thy place and testify + To coming ages long, + That truth is stronger than a lie, + And righteousness than wrong. + + + + +THE JUBILEE SINGERS. + +A number of students of Fisk University, under the direction of one of +the officers, gave a series of concerts in the Northern States, for the +purpose of establishing the college on a firmer financial foundation. +Their hymns and songs, mostly in a minor key, touched the hearts of the +people, and were received as peculiarly expressive of a race delivered +from bondage. + + VOICE of a people suffering long, + The pathos of their mournful song, + The sorrow of their night of wrong! + + Their cry like that which Israel gave, + A prayer for one to guide and save, + Like Moses by the Red Sea's wave! + + The stern accord her timbrel lent + To Miriam's note of triumph sent + O'er Egypt's sunken armament! + + The tramp that startled camp and town, + And shook the walls of slavery down, + The spectral march of old John Brown! + + The storm that swept through battle-days, + The triumph after long delays, + The bondmen giving God the praise! + + Voice of a ransomed race, sing on + Till Freedom's every right is won, + And slavery's every wrong undone + + 1880. + + + + +GARRISON. + +The earliest poem in this division was my youthful tribute to the great +reformer when himself a young man he was first sounding his trumpet in +Essex County. I close with the verses inscribed to him at the end of his +earthly career, May 24, 1879. My poetical service in the cause of +freedom is thus almost synchronous with his life of devotion to the +same cause. + + THE storm and peril overpast, + The hounding hatred shamed and still, + Go, soul of freedom! take at last + The place which thou alone canst fill. + + Confirm the lesson taught of old-- + Life saved for self is lost, while they + Who lose it in His service hold + The lease of God's eternal day. + + Not for thyself, but for the slave + Thy words of thunder shook the world; + No selfish griefs or hatred gave + The strength wherewith thy bolts were hurled. + + From lips that Sinai's trumpet blew + We heard a tender under song; + Thy very wrath from pity grew, + From love of man thy hate of wrong. + + Now past and present are as one; + The life below is life above; + Thy mortal years have but begun + Thy immortality of love. + + With somewhat of thy lofty faith + We lay thy outworn garment by, + Give death but what belongs to death, + And life the life that cannot die! + + Not for a soul like thine the calm + Of selfish ease and joys of sense; + But duty, more than crown or palm, + Its own exceeding recompense. + + Go up and on thy day well done, + Its morning promise well fulfilled, + Arise to triumphs yet unwon, + To holier tasks that God has willed. + + Go, leave behind thee all that mars + The work below of man for man; + With the white legions of the stars + Do service such as angels can. + + Wherever wrong shall right deny + Or suffering spirits urge their plea, + Be thine a voice to smite the lie, + A hand to set the captive free! + + + + + +SONGS OF LABOR AND REFORM + + + + +THE QUAKER OF THE OLDEN TIME. + + THE Quaker of the olden time! + How calm and firm and true, + Unspotted by its wrong and crime, + He walked the dark earth through. + The lust of power, the love of gain, + The thousand lures of sin + Around him, had no power to stain + The purity within. + + With that deep insight which detects + All great things in the small, + And knows how each man's life affects + The spiritual life of all, + He walked by faith and not by sight, + By love and not by law; + The presence of the wrong or right + He rather felt than saw. + + He felt that wrong with wrong partakes, + That nothing stands alone, + That whoso gives the motive, makes + His brother's sin his own. + And, pausing not for doubtful choice + Of evils great or small, + He listened to that inward voice + Which called away from all. + + O Spirit of that early day, + So pure and strong and true, + Be with us in the narrow way + Our faithful fathers knew. + Give strength the evil to forsake, + The cross of Truth to bear, + And love and reverent fear to make + Our daily lives a prayer! + + 1838. + + + + +DEMOCRACY. + +All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so +to them.--MATTHEW vii. 12. + + + BEARER of Freedom's holy light, + Breaker of Slavery's chain and rod, + The foe of all which pains the sight, + Or wounds the generous ear of God! + + Beautiful yet thy temples rise, + Though there profaning gifts are thrown; + And fires unkindled of the skies + Are glaring round thy altar-stone. + + Still sacred, though thy name be breathed + By those whose hearts thy truth deride; + And garlands, plucked from thee, are wreathed + Around the haughty brows of Pride. + + Oh, ideal of my boyhood's time! + The faith in which my father stood, + Even when the sons of Lust and Crime + Had stained thy peaceful courts with blood! + + Still to those courts my footsteps turn, + For through the mists which darken there, + I see the flame of Freedom burn,-- + The Kebla of the patriot's prayer! + + The generous feeling, pure and warm, + Which owns the right of all divine; + The pitying heart, the helping arm, + The prompt self-sacrifice, are thine. + + Beneath thy broad, impartial eye, + How fade the lines of caste and birth! + How equal in their suffering lie + The groaning multitudes of earth! + + Still to a stricken brother true, + Whatever clime hath nurtured him; + As stooped to heal the wounded Jew + The worshipper of Gerizim. + + By misery unrepelled, unawed + By pomp or power, thou seest a Man + In prince or peasant, slave or lord, + Pale priest, or swarthy artisan. + + Through all disguise, form, place, or name, + Beneath the flaunting robes of sin, + Through poverty and squalid shame, + Thou lookest on the man within. + + On man, as man, retaining yet, + Howe'er debased, and soiled, and dim, + The crown upon his forehead set, + The immortal gift of God to him. + + And there is reverence in thy look; + For that frail form which mortals wear + The Spirit of the Holiest took, + And veiled His perfect brightness there. + + Not from the shallow babbling fount + Of vain philosophy thou art; + He who of old on Syria's Mount + Thrilled, warmed, by turns, the listener's heart, + + In holy words which cannot die, + In thoughts which angels leaned to know, + Proclaimed thy message from on high, + Thy mission to a world of woe. + + That voice's echo hath not died! + From the blue lake of Galilee, + And Tabor's lonely mountain-side, + It calls a struggling world to thee. + + Thy name and watchword o'er this land + I hear in every breeze that stirs, + And round a thousand altars stand + Thy banded party worshippers. + + Not, to these altars of a day, + At party's call, my gift I bring; + But on thy olden shrine I lay + A freeman's dearest offering. + + The voiceless utterance of his will,-- + His pledge to Freedom and to Truth, + That manhood's heart remembers still + The homage of his generous youth. + + Election Day, 1841 + + + + +THE GALLOWS. + +Written on reading pamphlets published by clergymen against the +abolition of the gallows. + + + I. + THE suns of eighteen centuries have shone + Since the Redeemer walked with man, and made + The fisher's boat, the cavern's floor of stone, + And mountain moss, a pillow for His head; + And He, who wandered with the peasant Jew, + And broke with publicans the bread of shame, + And drank with blessings, in His Father's name, + The water which Samaria's outcast drew, + Hath now His temples upon every shore, + Altar and shrine and priest; and incense dim + Evermore rising, with low prayer and hymn, + From lips which press the temple's marble floor, + Or kiss the gilded sign of the dread cross He bore. + + + II. + Yet as of old, when, meekly "doing good," + He fed a blind and selfish multitude, + And even the poor companions of His lot + With their dim earthly vision knew Him not, + How ill are His high teachings understood + Where He hath spoken Liberty, the priest + At His own altar binds the chain anew; + Where He hath bidden to Life's equal feast, + The starving many wait upon the few; + Where He hath spoken Peace, His name hath been + The loudest war-cry of contending men; + Priests, pale with vigils, in His name have blessed + The unsheathed sword, and laid the spear in rest, + Wet the war-banner with their sacred wine, + And crossed its blazon with the holy sign; + Yea, in His name who bade the erring live, + And daily taught His lesson, to forgive! + Twisted the cord and edged the murderous steel; + And, with His words of mercy on their lips, + Hung gloating o'er the pincer's burning grips, + And the grim horror of the straining wheel; + Fed the slow flame which gnawed the victim's limb, + Who saw before his searing eyeballs swim + The image of their Christ in cruel zeal, + Through the black torment-smoke, held mockingly to him! + + + III. + The blood which mingled with the desert sand, + And beaded with its red and ghastly dew + The vines and olives of the Holy Land; + The shrieking curses of the hunted Jew; + The white-sown bones of heretics, where'er + They sank beneath the Crusade's holy spear; + Goa's dark dungeons, Malta's sea-washed cell, + Where with the hymns the ghostly fathers sung + Mingled the groans by subtle torture wrung, + Heaven's anthem blending with the shriek of hell! + The midnight of Bartholomew, the stake + Of Smithfield, and that thrice-accursed flame + Which Calvin kindled by Geneva's lake; + New England's scaffold, and the priestly sneer + Which mocked its victims in that hour of fear, + When guilt itself a human tear might claim,-- + Bear witness, O Thou wronged and merciful One! + That Earth's most hateful crimes have in Thy + name been done! + + + IV. + Thank God! that I have lived to see the time + When the great truth begins at last to find + An utterance from the deep heart of mankind, + Earnest and clear, that all Revenge is Crime, + That man is holier than a creed, that all + Restraint upon him must consult his good, + Hope's sunshine linger on his prison wall, + And Love look in upon his solitude. + The beautiful lesson which our Saviour taught + Through long, dark centuries its way hath wrought + Into the common mind and popular thought; + And words, to which by Galilee's lake shore + The humble fishers listened with hushed oar, + Have found an echo in the general heart, + And of the public faith become a living part. + + + V. + Who shall arrest this tendency? Bring back + The cells of Venice and the bigot's rack? + Harden the softening human heart again + To cold indifference to a brother's pain? + Ye most unhappy men! who, turned away + From the mild sunshine of the Gospel day, + Grope in the shadows of Man's twilight time, + What mean ye, that with ghoul-like zest ye brood, + O'er those foul altars streaming with warm blood, + Permitted in another age and clime? + Why cite that law with which the bigot Jew + Rebuked the Pagan's mercy, when he knew + No evil in the Just One? Wherefore turn + To the dark, cruel past? Can ye not learn + From the pure Teacher's life how mildly free + Is the great Gospel of Humanity? + The Flamen's knife is bloodless, and no more + Mexitli's altars soak with human gore, + No more the ghastly sacrifices smoke + Through the green arches of the Druid's oak; + And ye of milder faith, with your high claim + Of prophet-utterance in the Holiest name, + Will ye become the Druids of our time + Set up your scaffold-altars in our land, + And, consecrators of Law's darkest crime, + Urge to its loathsome work the hangman's hand? + Beware, lest human nature, roused at last, + From its peeled shoulder your encumbrance cast, + And, sick to loathing of your cry for blood, + Rank ye with those who led their victims round + The Celt's red altar and the Indian's mound, + Abhorred of Earth and Heaven, a pagan brotherhood! + + 1842. + + + + +SEED-TIME AND HARVEST. + + As o'er his furrowed fields which lie + Beneath a coldly dropping sky, + Yet chill with winter's melted snow, + The husbandman goes forth to sow, + + Thus, Freedom, on the bitter blast + The ventures of thy seed we cast, + And trust to warmer sun and rain + To swell the germs and fill the grain. + + Who calls thy glorious service hard? + Who deems it not its own reward? + Who, for its trials, counts it less. + A cause of praise and thankfulness? + + It may not be our lot to wield + The sickle in the ripened field; + Nor ours to hear, on summer eves, + The reaper's song among the sheaves. + + Yet where our duty's task is wrought + In unison with God's great thought, + The near and future blend in one, + And whatsoe'er is willed, is done! + + And ours the grateful service whence + Comes day by day the recompense; + The hope, the trust, the purpose stayed, + The fountain and the noonday shade. + + And were this life the utmost span, + The only end and aim of man, + Better the toil of fields like these + Than waking dream and slothful ease. + + But life, though falling like our grain, + Like that revives and springs again; + And, early called, how blest are they + Who wait in heaven their harvest-day! + + 1843. + + + + +TO THE REFORMERS OF ENGLAND. + +This poem was addressed to those who like Richard Cobden and John Bright +were seeking the reform of political evils in Great Britain by peaceful +and Christian means. It will be remembered that the Anti-Corn Law League +was in the midst of its labors at this time. + + + GOD bless ye, brothers! in the fight + Ye 're waging now, ye cannot fail, + For better is your sense of right + Than king-craft's triple mail. + + Than tyrant's law, or bigot's ban, + More mighty is your simplest word; + The free heart of an honest man + Than crosier or the sword. + + Go, let your blinded Church rehearse + The lesson it has learned so well; + It moves not with its prayer or curse + The gates of heaven or hell. + + Let the State scaffold rise again; + Did Freedom die when Russell died? + Forget ye how the blood of Vane + From earth's green bosom cried? + + The great hearts of your olden time + Are beating with you, full and strong; + All holy memories and sublime + And glorious round ye throng. + + The bluff, bold men of Runnymede + Are with ye still in times like these; + The shades of England's mighty dead, + Your cloud of witnesses! + + The truths ye urge are borne abroad + By every wind and every tide; + The voice of Nature and of God + Speaks out upon your side. + + The weapons which your hands have found + Are those which Heaven itself has wrought, + Light, Truth, and Love; your battle-ground + The free, broad field of Thought. + + No partial, selfish purpose breaks + The simple beauty of your plan, + Nor lie from throne or altar shakes + Your steady faith in man. + + The languid pulse of England starts + And bounds beneath your words of power, + The beating of her million hearts + Is with you at this hour! + + O ye who, with undoubting eyes, + Through present cloud and gathering storm, + Behold the span of Freedom's skies, + And sunshine soft and warm; + + Press bravely onward! not in vain + Your generous trust in human-kind; + The good which bloodshed could not gain + Your peaceful zeal shall find. + + Press on! the triumph shall be won + Of common rights and equal laws, + The glorious dream of Harrington, + And Sidney's good old cause. + + Blessing the cotter and the crown, + Sweetening worn Labor's bitter cup; + And, plucking not the highest down, + Lifting the lowest up. + + Press on! and we who may not share + The toil or glory of your fight + May ask, at least, in earnest prayer, + God's blessing on the right! + + 1843. + + + + +THE HUMAN SACRIFICE. + +Some leading sectarian papers had lately published the letter of a +clergyman, giving an account of his attendance upon a criminal (who had +committed murder during a fit of intoxication), at the time of his +execution, in western New York. The writer describes the agony of the +wretched being, his abortive attempts at prayer, his appeal for life, +his fear of a violent death; and, after declaring his belief that the +poor victim died without hope of salvation, concludes with a warm eulogy +upon the gallows, being more than ever convinced of its utility by the +awful dread and horror which it inspired. + + + I. + FAR from his close and noisome cell, + By grassy lane and sunny stream, + Blown clover field and strawberry dell, + And green and meadow freshness, fell + The footsteps of his dream. + Again from careless feet the dew + Of summer's misty morn he shook; + Again with merry heart he threw + His light line in the rippling brook. + Back crowded all his school-day joys; + He urged the ball and quoit again, + And heard the shout of laughing boys + Come ringing down the walnut glen. + Again he felt the western breeze, + With scent of flowers and crisping hay; + And down again through wind-stirred trees + He saw the quivering sunlight play. + An angel in home's vine-hung door, + He saw his sister smile once more; + Once more the truant's brown-locked head + Upon his mother's knees was laid, + And sweetly lulled to slumber there, + With evening's holy hymn and prayer! + + II. + He woke. At once on heart and brain + The present Terror rushed again; + Clanked on his limbs the felon's chain + He woke, to hear the church-tower tell + Time's footfall on the conscious bell, + And, shuddering, feel that clanging din + His life's last hour had ushered in; + To see within his prison-yard, + Through the small window, iron barred, + The gallows shadow rising dim + Between the sunrise heaven and him; + A horror in God's blessed air; + A blackness in his morning light; + Like some foul devil-altar there + Built up by demon hands at night. + And, maddened by that evil sight, + Dark, horrible, confused, and strange, + A chaos of wild, weltering change, + All power of check and guidance gone, + Dizzy and blind, his mind swept on. + In vain he strove to breathe a prayer, + In vain he turned the Holy Book, + He only heard the gallows-stair + Creak as the wind its timbers shook. + No dream for him of sin forgiven, + While still that baleful spectre stood, + With its hoarse murmur, "Blood for Blood!" + Between him and the pitying Heaven. + + III. + Low on his dungeon floor he knelt, + And smote his breast, and on his chain, + Whose iron clasp he always felt, + His hot tears fell like rain; + And near him, with the cold, calm look + And tone of one whose formal part, + Unwarmed, unsoftened of the heart, + Is measured out by rule and book, + With placid lip and tranquil blood, + The hangman's ghostly ally stood, + Blessing with solemn text and word + The gallows-drop and strangling cord; + Lending the sacred Gospel's awe + And sanction to the crime of Law. + + IV. + He saw the victim's tortured brow, + The sweat of anguish starting there, + The record of a nameless woe + In the dim eye's imploring stare, + Seen hideous through the long, damp hair,-- + Fingers of ghastly skin and bone + Working and writhing on the stone! + And heard, by mortal terror wrung + From heaving breast and stiffened tongue, + The choking sob and low hoarse prayer; + As o'er his half-crazed fancy came + A vision of the eternal flame, + Its smoking cloud of agonies, + Its demon-worm that never dies, + The everlasting rise and fall + Of fire-waves round the infernal wall; + While high above that dark red flood, + Black, giant-like, the gallows stood; + Two busy fiends attending there + One with cold mocking rite and prayer, + The other with impatient grasp, + Tightening the death-rope's strangling clasp. + + V. + The unfelt rite at length was done, + The prayer unheard at length was said, + An hour had passed: the noonday sun + Smote on the features of the dead! + And he who stood the doomed beside, + Calm gauger of the swelling tide + Of mortal agony and fear, + Heeding with curious eye and ear + Whate'er revealed the keen excess + Of man's extremest wretchedness + And who in that dark anguish saw + An earnest of the victim's fate, + The vengeful terrors of God's law, + The kindlings of Eternal hate, + The first drops of that fiery rain + Which beats the dark red realm of pain, + Did he uplift his earnest cries + Against the crime of Law, which gave + His brother to that fearful grave, + Whereon Hope's moonlight never lies, + And Faith's white blossoms never wave + To the soft breath of Memory's sighs; + Which sent a spirit marred and stained, + By fiends of sin possessed, profaned, + In madness and in blindness stark, + Into the silent, unknown dark? + No, from the wild and shrinking dread, + With which he saw the victim led + Beneath the dark veil which divides + Ever the living from the dead, + And Nature's solemn secret hides, + The man of prayer can only draw + New reasons for his bloody law; + New faith in staying Murder's hand + By murder at that Law's command; + New reverence for the gallows-rope, + As human nature's latest hope; + Last relic of the good old time, + When Power found license for its crime, + And held a writhing world in check + By that fell cord about its neck; + Stifled Sedition's rising shout, + Choked the young breath of Freedom out, + And timely checked the words which sprung + From Heresy's forbidden tongue; + While in its noose of terror bound, + The Church its cherished union found, + Conforming, on the Moslem plan, + The motley-colored mind of man, + Not by the Koran and the Sword, + But by the Bible and the Cord. + + VI. + O Thou at whose rebuke the grave + Back to warm life its sleeper gave, + Beneath whose sad and tearful glance + The cold and changed countenance + Broke the still horror of its trance, + And, waking, saw with joy above, + A brother's face of tenderest love; + Thou, unto whom the blind and lame, + The sorrowing and the sin-sick came, + And from Thy very garment's hem + Drew life and healing unto them, + The burden of Thy holy faith + Was love and life, not hate and death; + Man's demon ministers of pain, + The fiends of his revenge, were sent + From thy pure Gospel's element + To their dark home again. + Thy name is Love! What, then, is he, + Who in that name the gallows rears, + An awful altar built to Thee, + With sacrifice of blood and tears? + Oh, once again Thy healing lay + On the blind eyes which knew Thee not, + And let the light of Thy pure day + Melt in upon his darkened thought. + Soften his hard, cold heart, and show + The power which in forbearance lies, + And let him feel that mercy now + Is better than old sacrifice. + + VII. + As on the White Sea's charmed shore, + The Parsee sees his holy hill (10) + With dunnest smoke-clouds curtained o'er, + Yet knows beneath them, evermore, + The low, pale fire is quivering still; + So, underneath its clouds of sin, + The heart of man retaineth yet + Gleams of its holy origin; + And half-quenched stars that never set, + Dim colors of its faded bow, + And early beauty, linger there, + And o'er its wasted desert blow + Faint breathings of its morning air. + Oh, never yet upon the scroll + Of the sin-stained, but priceless soul, + Hath Heaven inscribed "Despair!" + Cast not the clouded gem away, + Quench not the dim but living ray,-- + My brother man, Beware! + With that deep voice which from the skies + Forbade the Patriarch's sacrifice, + God's angel cries, Forbear. + + 1843 + + + + + +SONGS OF LABOR. + + + + +DEDICATION. + +Prefixed to the volume of which the group of six poems following this +prelude constituted the first portion. + + + I WOULD the gift I offer here + Might graces from thy favor take, + And, seen through Friendship's atmosphere, + On softened lines and coloring, wear + The unaccustomed light of beauty, for thy sake. + + Few leaves of Fancy's spring remain + But what I have I give to thee, + The o'er-sunned bloom of summer's plain, + And paler flowers, the latter rain + Calls from the westering slope of life's autumnal lea. + + Above the fallen groves of green, + Where youth's enchanted forest stood, + Dry root and mossed trunk between, + A sober after-growth is seen, + As springs the pine where falls the gay-leafed maple wood! + + Yet birds will sing, and breezes play + Their leaf-harps in the sombre tree; + And through the bleak and wintry day + It keeps its steady green alway,-- + So, even my after-thoughts may have a charm for thee. + + Art's perfect forms no moral need, + And beauty is its own excuse; + But for the dull and flowerless weed + Some healing virtue still must plead, + And the rough ore must find its honors in its use. + + So haply these, my simple lays + Of homely toil, may serve to show + The orchard bloom and tasselled maize + That skirt and gladden duty's ways, + The unsung beauty hid life's common things below. + + Haply from them the toiler, bent + Above his forge or plough, may gain, + A manlier spirit of content, + And feel that life is wisest spent + Where the strong working hand makes strong the + working brain. + + The doom which to the guilty pair + Without the walls of Eden came, + Transforming sinless ease to care + And rugged toil, no more shall bear + The burden of old crime, or mark of primal shame. + + A blessing now, a curse no more; + Since He, whose name we breathe with awe, + The coarse mechanic vesture wore, + A poor man toiling with the poor, + In labor, as in prayer, fulfilling the same law. + + 1850. + + + + +THE SHOEMAKERS. + + Ho! workers of the old time styled + The Gentle Craft of Leather + Young brothers of the ancient guild, + Stand forth once more together! + Call out again your long array, + In the olden merry manner + Once more, on gay St. Crispin's day, + Fling out your blazoned banner! + + Rap, rap! upon the well-worn stone + How falls the polished hammer + Rap, rap I the measured sound has grown + A quick and merry clamor. + Now shape the sole! now deftly curl + The glossy vamp around it, + And bless the while the bright-eyed girl + Whose gentle fingers bound it! + + For you, along the Spanish main + A hundred keels are ploughing; + For you, the Indian on the plain + His lasso-coil is throwing; + For you, deep glens with hemlock dark + The woodman's fire is lighting; + For you, upon the oak's gray bark, + The woodman's axe is smiting. + + For you, from Carolina's pine + The rosin-gum is stealing; + For you, the dark-eyed Florentine + Her silken skein is reeling; + For you, the dizzy goatherd roams + His rugged Alpine ledges; + For you, round all her shepherd homes, + Bloom England's thorny hedges. + + The foremost still, by day or night, + On moated mound or heather, + Where'er the need of trampled right + Brought toiling men together; + Where the free burghers from the wall + Defied the mail-clad master, + Than yours, at Freedom's trumpet-call, + No craftsmen rallied faster. + + Let foplings sneer, let fools deride, + Ye heed no idle scorner; + Free hands and hearts are still your pride, + And duty done, your honor. + Ye dare to trust, for honest fame, + The jury Time empanels, + And leave to truth each noble name + Which glorifies your annals. + + Thy songs, Hans Sachs, are living yet, + In strong and hearty German; + And Bloomfield's lay, and Gifford's wit, + And patriot fame of Sherman; + Still from his book, a mystic seer, + The soul of Behmen teaches, + And England's priestcraft shakes to hear + Of Fox's leathern breeches. + + The foot is yours; where'er it falls, + It treads your well-wrought leather, + On earthen floor, in marble halls, + On carpet, or on heather. + Still there the sweetest charm is found + Of matron grace or vestal's, + As Hebe's foot bore nectar round + Among the old celestials. + + Rap, rap!--your stout and bluff brogan, + With footsteps slow and weary, + May wander where the sky's blue span + Shuts down upon the prairie. + On Beauty's foot your slippers glance, + By Saratoga's fountains, + Or twinkle down the summer dance + Beneath the Crystal Mountains! + + The red brick to the mason's hand, + The brown earth to the tiller's, + The shoe in yours shall wealth command, + Like fairy Cinderella's! + As they who shunned the household maid + Beheld the crown upon her, + So all shall see your toil repaid + With hearth and home and honor. + + Then let the toast be freely quaffed, + In water cool and brimming,-- + "All honor to the good old Craft, + Its merry men and women!" + Call out again your long array, + In the old time's pleasant manner + Once more, on gay St. Crispin's day, + Fling out his blazoned banner! + + 1845. + + + + +THE FISHERMEN. + + HURRAH! the seaward breezes + Sweep down the bay amain; + Heave up, my lads, the anchor! + Run up the sail again + Leave to the lubber landsmen + The rail-car and the steed; + The stars of heaven shall guide us, + The breath of heaven shall speed. + + From the hill-top looks the steeple, + And the lighthouse from the sand; + And the scattered pines are waving + Their farewell from the land. + One glance, my lads, behind us, + For the homes we leave one sigh, + Ere we take the change and chances + Of the ocean and the sky. + + Now, brothers, for the icebergs + Of frozen Labrador, + Floating spectral in the moonshine, + Along the low, black shore! + Where like snow the gannet's feathers + On Brador's rocks are shed, + And the noisy murr are flying, + Like black scuds, overhead; + + Where in mist tie rock is hiding, + And the sharp reef lurks below, + And the white squall smites in summer, + And the autumn tempests blow; + Where, through gray and rolling vapor, + From evening unto morn, + A thousand boats are hailing, + Horn answering unto horn. + + Hurrah! for the Red Island, + With the white cross on its crown + Hurrah! for Meccatina, + And its mountains bare and brown! + Where the Caribou's tall antlers + O'er the dwarf-wood freely toss, + And the footstep of the Mickmack + Has no sound upon the moss. + + There we'll drop our lines, and gather + Old Ocean's treasures in, + Where'er the mottled mackerel + Turns up a steel-dark fin. + The sea's our field of harvest, + Its scaly tribes our grain; + We'll reap the teeming waters + As at home they reap the plain. + + Our wet hands spread the carpet, + And light the hearth of home; + From our fish, as in the old time, + The silver coin shall come. + As the demon fled the chamber + Where the fish of Tobit lay, + So ours from all our dwellings + Shall frighten Want away. + + Though the mist upon our jackets + In the bitter air congeals, + And our lines wind stiff and slowly + From off the frozen reels; + Though the fog be dark around us, + And the storm blow high and loud, + We will whistle down the wild wind, + And laugh beneath the cloud! + + In the darkness as in daylight, + On the water as on land, + God's eye is looking on us, + And beneath us is His hand! + Death will find us soon or later, + On the deck or in the cot; + And we cannot meet him better + Than in working out our lot. + + Hurrah! hurrah! the west-wind + Comes freshening down the bay, + The rising sails are filling; + Give way, my lads, give way! + Leave the coward landsman clinging + To the dull earth, like a weed; + The stars of heaven shall guide us, + The breath of heaven shall speed! + + 1845. + + + + +THE LUMBERMEN. + + WILDLY round our woodland quarters + Sad-voiced Autumn grieves; + Thickly down these swelling waters + Float his fallen leaves. + Through the tall and naked timber, + Column-like and old, + Gleam the sunsets of November, + From their skies of gold. + + O'er us, to the southland heading, + Screams the gray wild-goose; + On the night-frost sounds the treading + Of the brindled moose. + Noiseless creeping, while we're sleeping, + Frost his task-work plies; + Soon, his icy bridges heaping, + Shall our log-piles rise. + + When, with sounds of smothered thunder, + On some night of rain, + Lake and river break asunder + Winter's weakened chain, + Down the wild March flood shall bear them + To the saw-mill's wheel, + Or where Steam, the slave, shall tear them + With his teeth of steel. + + Be it starlight, be it moonlight, + In these vales below, + When the earliest beams of sunlight + Streak the mountain's snow, + Crisps the boar-frost, keen and early, + To our hurrying feet, + And the forest echoes clearly + All our blows repeat. + + Where the crystal Ambijejis + Stretches broad and clear, + And Millnoket's pine-black ridges + Hide the browsing deer + Where, through lakes and wide morasses, + Or through rocky walls, + Swift and strong, Penobscot passes + White with foamy falls; + + Where, through clouds, are glimpses given + Of Katahdin's sides,-- + Rock and forest piled to heaven, + Torn and ploughed by slides! + Far below, the Indian trapping, + In the sunshine warm; + Far above, the snow-cloud wrapping + Half the peak in storm! + + Where are mossy carpets better + Than the Persian weaves, + And than Eastern perfumes sweeter + Seem the fading leaves; + And a music wild and solemn, + From the pine-tree's height, + Rolls its vast and sea-like volume + On the wind of night; + + Make we here our camp of winter; + And, through sleet and snow, + Pitchy knot and beechen splinter + On our hearth shall glow. + Here, with mirth to lighten duty, + We shall lack alone + Woman's smile and girlhood's beauty, + Childhood's lisping tone. + + But their hearth is brighter burning + For our toil to-day; + And the welcome of returning + Shall our loss repay, + When, like seamen from the waters, + From the woods we come, + Greeting sisters, wives, and daughters, + Angels of our home! + + Not for us the measured ringing + From the village spire, + Not for us the Sabbath singing + Of the sweet-voiced choir, + Ours the old, majestic temple, + Where God's brightness shines + Down the dome so grand and ample, + Propped by lofty pines! + + Through each branch-enwoven skylight, + Speaks He in the breeze, + As of old beneath the twilight + Of lost Eden's trees! + For His ear, the inward feeling + Needs no outward tongue; + He can see the spirit kneeling + While the axe is swung. + + Heeding truth alone, and turning + From the false and dim, + Lamp of toil or altar burning + Are alike to Him. + Strike, then, comrades! Trade is waiting + On our rugged toil; + Far ships waiting for the freighting + Of our woodland spoil. + + Ships, whose traffic links these highlands, + Bleak and cold, of ours, + With the citron-planted islands + Of a clime of flowers; + To our frosts the tribute bringing + Of eternal heats; + In our lap of winter flinging + Tropic fruits and sweets. + + Cheerly, on the axe of labor, + Let the sunbeams dance, + Better than the flash of sabre + Or the gleam of lance! + Strike! With every blow is given + Freer sun and sky, + And the long-hid earth to heaven + Looks, with wondering eye! + + Loud behind us grow the murmurs + Of the age to come; + Clang of smiths, and tread of farmers, + Bearing harvest home! + Here her virgin lap with treasures + Shall the green earth fill; + Waving wheat and golden maize-ears + Crown each beechen hill. + + Keep who will the city's alleys + Take the smooth-shorn plain'; + Give to us the cedarn valleys, + Rocks and hills of Maine! + In our North-land, wild and woody, + Let us still have part + Rugged nurse and mother sturdy, + Hold us to thy heart! + + Oh, our free hearts beat the warmer + For thy breath of snow; + And our tread is all the firmer + For thy rocks below. + Freedom, hand in hand with labor, + Walketh strong and brave; + On the forehead of his neighbor + No man writeth Slave! + + Lo, the day breaks! old Katahdin's + Pine-trees show its fires, + While from these dim forest gardens + Rise their blackened spires. + Up, my comrades! up and doing! + Manhood's rugged play + Still renewing, bravely hewing + Through the world our way! + + 1845. + + + + +THE SHIP-BUILDERS + + THE sky is ruddy in the east, + The earth is gray below, + And, spectral in the river-mist, + The ship's white timbers show. + Then let the sounds of measured stroke + And grating saw begin; + The broad-axe to the gnarled oak, + The mallet to the pin! + + Hark! roars the bellows, blast on blast, + The sooty smithy jars, + And fire-sparks, rising far and fast, + Are fading with the stars. + All day for us the smith shall stand + Beside that flashing forge; + All day for us his heavy hand + The groaning anvil scourge. + + From far-off hills, the panting team + For us is toiling near; + For us the raftsmen down the stream + Their island barges steer. + Rings out for us the axe-man's stroke + In forests old and still; + For us the century-circled oak + Falls crashing down his hill. + + Up! up! in nobler toil than ours + No craftsmen bear a part + We make of Nature's giant powers + The slaves of human Art. + Lay rib to rib and beam to beam, + And drive the treenails free; + Nor faithless joint nor yawning seam + Shall tempt the searching sea. + + Where'er the keel of our good ship + The sea's rough field shall plough; + Where'er her tossing spars shall drip + With salt-spray caught below; + That ship must heed her master's beck, + Her helm obey his hand, + And seamen tread her reeling deck + As if they trod the land. + + Her oaken ribs the vulture-beak + Of Northern ice may peel; + The sunken rock and coral peak + May grate along her keel; + And know we well the painted shell + We give to wind and wave, + Must float, the sailor's citadel, + Or sink, the sailor's grave. + + Ho! strike away the bars and blocks, + And set the good ship free! + Why lingers on these dusty rocks + The young bride of the sea? + Look! how she moves adown the grooves, + In graceful beauty now! + How lowly on the breast she loves + Sinks down her virgin prow. + + God bless her! wheresoe'er the breeze + Her snowy wing shall fan, + Aside the frozen Hebrides, + Or sultry Hindostan! + Where'er, in mart or on the main, + With peaceful flag unfurled, + She helps to wind the silken chain + Of commerce round the world! + + Speed on the ship! But let her bear + No merchandise of sin, + No groaning cargo of despair + Her roomy hold within; + No Lethean drug for Eastern lands, + Nor poison-draught for ours; + But honest fruits of toiling hands + And Nature's sun and showers. + + Be hers the Prairie's golden grain, + The Desert's golden sand, + The clustered fruits of sunny Spain, + The spice of Morning-land! + Her pathway on the open main + May blessings follow free, + And glad hearts welcome back again + Her white sails from the sea + 1846. + + + + +THE DROVERS. + + THROUGH heat and cold, and shower and sun, + Still onward cheerly driving + There's life alone in duty done, + And rest alone in striving. + But see! the day is closing cool, + The woods are dim before us; + The white fog of the wayside pool + Is creeping slowly o'er us. + + The night is falling, comrades mine, + Our footsore beasts are weary, + And through yon elms the tavern sign + Looks out upon us cheery. + The landlord beckons from his door, + His beechen fire is glowing; + These ample barns, with feed in store, + Are filled to overflowing. + + From many a valley frowned across + By brows of rugged mountains; + From hillsides where, through spongy moss, + Gush out the river fountains; + From quiet farm-fields, green and low, + And bright with blooming clover; + From vales of corn the wandering crow + No richer hovers over; + + Day after day our way has been + O'er many a hill and hollow; + By lake and stream, by wood and glen, + Our stately drove we follow. + Through dust-clouds rising thick and dun, + As smoke of battle o'er us, + Their white horns glisten in the sun, + Like plumes and crests before us. + + We see them slowly climb the hill, + As slow behind it sinking; + Or, thronging close, from roadside rill, + Or sunny lakelet, drinking. + Now crowding in the narrow road, + In thick and struggling masses, + They glare upon the teamster's load, + Or rattling coach that passes. + + Anon, with toss of horn and tail, + And paw of hoof, and bellow, + They leap some farmer's broken pale, + O'er meadow-close or fallow. + Forth comes the startled goodman; forth + Wife, children, house-dog, sally, + Till once more on their dusty path + The baffled truants rally. + + We drive no starvelings, scraggy grown, + Loose-legged, and ribbed and bony, + Like those who grind their noses down + On pastures bare and stony,-- + Lank oxen, rough as Indian dogs, + And cows too lean for shadows, + Disputing feebly with the frogs + The crop of saw-grass meadows! + + In our good drove, so sleek and fair, + No bones of leanness rattle; + No tottering hide-bound ghosts are there, + Or Pharaoh's evil cattle. + Each stately beeve bespeaks the hand + That fed him unrepining; + The fatness of a goodly land + In each dun hide is shining. + + We've sought them where, in warmest nooks, + The freshest feed is growing, + By sweetest springs and clearest brooks + Through honeysuckle flowing; + Wherever hillsides, sloping south, + Are bright with early grasses, + Or, tracking green the lowland's drouth, + The mountain streamlet passes. + + But now the day is closing cool, + The woods are dim before us, + The white fog of the wayside pool + Is creeping slowly o'er us. + The cricket to the frog's bassoon + His shrillest time is keeping; + The sickle of yon setting moon + The meadow-mist is reaping. + + The night is falling, comrades mine, + Our footsore beasts are weary, + And through yon elms the tavern sign + Looks out upon us cheery. + To-morrow, eastward with our charge + We'll go to meet the dawning, + Ere yet the pines of Kearsarge + Have seen the sun of morning. + + When snow-flakes o'er the frozen earth, + Instead of birds, are flitting; + When children throng the glowing hearth, + And quiet wives are knitting; + While in the fire-light strong and clear + Young eyes of pleasure glisten, + To tales of all we see and hear + The ears of home shall listen. + + By many a Northern lake and bill, + From many a mountain pasture, + Shall Fancy play the Drover still, + And speed the long night faster. + Then let us on, through shower and sun, + And heat and cold, be driving; + There 's life alone in duty done, + And rest alone in striving. + + 1847. + + + + +THE HUSKERS. + + IT was late in mild October, and the long autumnal rain + Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again; + The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay + With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadow-flowers of May. + + Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun rose broad and red, + At first a rayless disk of fire, he brightened as he sped; + Yet, even his noontide glory fell chastened and subdued, + On the cornfields and the orchards, and softly pictured wood. + + And all that quiet afternoon, slow sloping to the night, + He wove with golden shuttle the haze with yellow light; + Slanting through the painted beeches, he glorified the hill; + And, beneath it, pond and meadow lay brighter, greener still. + + And shouting boys in woodland haunts caught glimpses of that sky, + Flecked by the many-tinted leaves, and laughed, they knew not why; + And school-girls, gay with aster-flowers, beside the meadow brooks, + Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks. + + From spire and barn looked westerly the patient weathercocks; + But even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks. + No sound was in the woodlands, save the squirrel's dropping shell, + And the yellow leaves among the boughs, low rustling as they fell. + + The summer grains were harvested; the stubble-fields lay dry, + Where June winds rolled, in light and shade, the pale green waves + of rye; + But still, on gentle hill-slopes, in valleys fringed with wood, + Ungathered, bleaching in the sun, the heavy corn crop stood. + + Bent low, by autumn's wind and rain, through husks that, dry and sere, + Unfolded from their ripened charge, shone out the yellow ear; + Beneath, the turnip lay concealed, in many a verdant fold, + And glistened in the slanting light the pumpkin's sphere of gold. + + There wrought the busy harvesters; and many a creaking wain + Bore slowly to the long barn-floor its load of husk and grain; + Till broad and red, as when he rose, the sun sank down, at last, + And like a merry guest's farewell, the day in brightness passed. + + And to! as through the western pines, on meadow, stream, and pond, + Flamed the red radiance of a sky, set all afire beyond, + Slowly o'er the eastern sea-bluffs a milder glory shone, + And the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into one! + + As thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed away, + And deeper in the brightening moon the tranquil shadows lay; + From many a brown old farm-house, and hamlet without name, + Their milking and their home-tasks done, the merry huskers came. + + Swung o'er the heaped-up harvest, from pitchforks in the mow, + Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scene below; + The growing pile of husks behind, the golden ears before, + And laughing eyes and busy hands and brown cheeks glimmering o'er. + + Half hidden, in a quiet nook, serene of look and heart, + Talking their old times over, the old men sat apart; + While up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling in its shade, + At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy children played. + + Urged by the good host's daughter, a maiden young and fair, + Lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride of soft brown hair, + The master of the village school, sleek of hair and smooth of tongue, + To the quaint tune of some old psalm, a husking ballad sung. + + + + +THE CORN-SONG. + + Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard + Heap high the golden corn + No richer gift has Autumn poured + From out her lavish horn! + + Let other lands, exulting, glean + The apple from the pine, + The orange from its glossy green, + The cluster from the vine; + + We better love the hardy gift + Our rugged vales bestow, + To cheer us when the storm shall drift + Our harvest-fields with snow. + + Through vales of grass and mends of flowers + Our ploughs their furrows made, + While on the hills the sun and showers + Of changeful April played. + + We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain + Beneath the sun of May, + And frightened from our sprouting grain + The robber crows away. + + All through the long, bright days of June + Its leaves grew green and fair, + And waved in hot midsummer's noon + Its soft and yellow hair. + + And now, with autumn's moonlit eves, + Its harvest-time has come, + We pluck away the frosted leaves, + And bear the treasure home. + + There, when the snows about us drift, + And winter winds are cold, + Fair hands the broken grain shall sift, + And knead its meal of gold. + + Let vapid idlers loll in silk + Around their costly board; + Give us the bowl of samp and milk, + By homespun beauty poured! + + Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth + Sends up its smoky curls, + Who will not thank the kindly earth, + And bless our farmer girls! + + Then shame on all the proud and vain, + Whose folly laughs to scorn + The blessing of our hardy grain, + Our wealth of golden corn. + + Let earth withhold her goodly root, + Let mildew blight the rye, + Give to the worm the orchard's fruit, + The wheat-field to the fly. + + But let the good old crop adorn + The hills our fathers trod; + Still let us, for his golden corn, + Send up our thanks to God! + + 1847. + + + + +THE REFORMER. + + ALL grim and soiled and brown with tan, + I saw a Strong One, in his wrath, + Smiting the godless shrines of man + Along his path. + + The Church, beneath her trembling dome, + Essayed in vain her ghostly charm + Wealth shook within his gilded home + With strange alarm. + + Fraud from his secret chambers fled + Before the sunlight bursting in + Sloth drew her pillow o'er her head + To drown the din. + + "Spare," Art implored, "yon holy pile; + That grand, old, time-worn turret spare;" + Meek Reverence, kneeling in the aisle, + Cried out, "Forbear!" + + Gray-bearded Use, who, deaf and blind, + Groped for his old accustomed stone, + Leaned on his staff, and wept to find + His seat o'erthrown. + + Young Romance raised his dreamy eyes, + O'erhung with paly locks of gold,-- + "Why smite," he asked in sad surprise, + "The fair, the old?" + + Yet louder rang the Strong One's stroke, + Yet nearer flashed his axe's gleam; + Shuddering and sick of heart I woke, + As from a dream. + + I looked: aside the dust-cloud rolled, + The Waster seemed the Builder too; + Upspringing from the ruined Old + I saw the New. + + 'T was but the ruin of the bad,-- + The wasting of the wrong and ill; + Whate'er of good the old time had + Was living still. + + Calm grew the brows of him I feared; + The frown which awed me passed away, + And left behind a smile which cheered + Like breaking day. + + The grain grew green on battle-plains, + O'er swarded war-mounds grazed the cow; + The slave stood forging from his chains + The spade and plough. + + Where frowned the fort, pavilions gay + And cottage windows, flower-entwined, + Looked out upon the peaceful bay + And hills behind. + + Through vine-wreathed cups with wine once red, + The lights on brimming crystal fell, + Drawn, sparkling, from the rivulet head + And mossy well. + + Through prison walls, like Heaven-sent hope, + Fresh breezes blew, and sunbeams strayed, + And with the idle gallows-rope + The young child played. + + Where the doomed victim in his cell + Had counted o'er the weary hours, + Glad school-girls, answering to the bell, + Came crowned with flowers. + + Grown wiser for the lesson given, + I fear no longer, for I know + That, where the share is deepest driven, + The best fruits grow. + + The outworn rite, the old abuse, + The pious fraud transparent grown, + The good held captive in the use + Of wrong alone,-- + + These wait their doom, from that great law + Which makes the past time serve to-day; + And fresher life the world shall draw + From their decay. + + Oh, backward-looking son of time! + The new is old, the old is new, + The cycle of a change sublime + Still sweeping through. + + So wisely taught the Indian seer; + Destroying Seva, forming Brahm, + Who wake by turns Earth's love and fear, + Are one, the same. + + Idly as thou, in that old day + Thou mournest, did thy sire repine; + So, in his time, thy child grown gray + Shall sigh for thine. + + But life shall on and upward go; + Th' eternal step of Progress beats + To that great anthem, calm and slow, + Which God repeats. + + Take heart! the Waster builds again, + A charmed life old Goodness bath; + The tares may perish, but the grain + Is not for death. + + God works in all things; all obey + His first propulsion from the night + Wake thou and watch! the world is gray + With morning light! + + 1848. + + + + +THE PEACE CONVENTION AT BRUSSELS. + + STILL in thy streets, O Paris! doth the stain + Of blood defy the cleansing autumn rain; + Still breaks the smoke Messina's ruins through, + And Naples mourns that new Bartholomew, + When squalid beggary, for a dole of bread, + At a crowned murderer's beck of license, fed + The yawning trenches with her noble dead; + Still, doomed Vienna, through thy stately halls + The shell goes crashing and the red shot falls, + And, leagued to crush thee, on the Danube's side, + The bearded Croat and Bosniak spearman ride; + Still in that vale where Himalaya's snow + Melts round the cornfields and the vines below, + The Sikh's hot cannon, answering ball for ball, + Flames in the breach of Moultan's shattered wall; + On Chenab's side the vulture seeks the slain, + And Sutlej paints with blood its banks again. + + "What folly, then," the faithless critic cries, + With sneering lip, and wise world-knowing eyes, + "While fort to fort, and post to post, repeat + The ceaseless challenge of the war-drum's beat, + And round the green earth, to the church-bell's chime, + The morning drum-roll of the camp keeps time, + To dream of peace amidst a world in arms, + Of swords to ploughshares changed by Scriptural charms, + Of nations, drunken with the wine of blood, + Staggering to take the Pledge of Brotherhood, + Like tipplers answering Father Matthew's call; + The sullen Spaniard, and the mad-cap Gaul, + The bull-dog Briton, yielding but with life, + The Yankee swaggering with his bowie-knife, + The Russ, from banquets with the vulture shared, + The blood still dripping from his amber beard, + Quitting their mad Berserker dance to hear + The dull, meek droning of a drab-coat seer; + Leaving the sport of Presidents and Kings, + Where men for dice each titled gambler flings, + To meet alternate on the Seine and Thames, + For tea and gossip, like old country dames + No! let the cravens plead the weakling's cant, + Let Cobden cipher, and let Vincent rant, + Let Sturge preach peace to democratic throngs, + And Burritt, stammering through his hundred tongues, + Repeat, in all, his ghostly lessons o'er, + Timed to the pauses of the battery's roar; + Check Ban or Kaiser with the barricade + Of "Olive-leaves" and Resolutions made, + Spike guns with pointed Scripture-texts, and hope + To capsize navies with a windy trope; + Still shall the glory and the pomp of War + Along their train the shouting millions draw; + Still dusty Labor to the passing Brave + His cap shall doff, and Beauty's kerchief wave; + Still shall the bard to Valor tune his song, + Still Hero-worship kneel before the Strong; + Rosy and sleek, the sable-gowned divine, + O'er his third bottle of suggestive wine, + To plumed and sworded auditors, shall prove + Their trade accordant with the Law of Love; + And Church for State, and State for Church, shall fight, + And both agree, that "Might alone is Right!" + Despite of sneers like these, O faithful few, + Who dare to hold God's word and witness true, + Whose clear-eyed faith transcends our evil time, + And o'er the present wilderness of crime + Sees the calm future, with its robes of green, + Its fleece-flecked mountains, and soft streams between,-- + Still keep the path which duty bids ye tread, + Though worldly wisdom shake the cautious head; + No truth from Heaven descends upon our sphere, + Without the greeting of the skeptic's sneer; + Denied and mocked at, till its blessings fall, + Common as dew and sunshine, over all." + + Then, o'er Earth's war-field, till the strife shall cease, + Like Morven's harpers, sing your song of peace; + As in old fable rang the Thracian's lyre, + Midst howl of fiends and roar of penal fire, + Till the fierce din to pleasing murmurs fell, + And love subdued the maddened heart of hell. + Lend, once again, that holy song a tongue, + Which the glad angels of the Advent sung, + Their cradle-anthem for the Saviour's birth, + Glory to God, and peace unto the earth + Through the mad discord send that calming word + Which wind and wave on wild Genesareth heard, + Lift in Christ's name his Cross against the Sword! + Not vain the vision which the prophets saw, + Skirting with green the fiery waste of war, + Through the hot sand-gleam, looming soft and calm + On the sky's rim, the fountain-shading palm. + Still lives for Earth, which fiends so long have trod, + The great hope resting on the truth of God,-- + Evil shall cease and Violence pass away, + And the tired world breathe free through a long + Sabbath day. + + 11th mo., 1848. + + + + +THE PRISONER FOR DEBT. + +Before the law authorizing imprisonment for debt had been abolished in +Massachusetts, a revolutionary pensioner was confined in Charlestown +jail for a debt of fourteen dollars, and on the fourth of July was seen +waving a handkerchief from the bars of his cell in honor of the day. + + + Look on him! through his dungeon grate, + Feebly and cold, the morning light + Comes stealing round him, dim and late, + As if it loathed the sight. + Reclining on his strawy bed, + His hand upholds his drooping head; + His bloodless cheek is seamed and hard, + Unshorn his gray, neglected beard; + And o'er his bony fingers flow + His long, dishevelled locks of snow. + No grateful fire before him glows, + And yet the winter's breath is chill; + And o'er his half-clad person goes + The frequent ague thrill! + Silent, save ever and anon, + A sound, half murmur and half groan, + Forces apart the painful grip + Of the old sufferer's bearded lip; + Oh, sad and crushing is the fate + Of old age chained and desolate! + + Just God! why lies that old man there? + A murderer shares his prison bed, + Whose eyeballs, through his horrid hair, + Gleam on him, fierce and red; + And the rude oath and heartless jeer + Fall ever on his loathing ear, + And, or in wakefulness or sleep, + Nerve, flesh, and pulses thrill and creep + Whene'er that ruffian's tossing limb, + Crimson with murder, touches him! + + What has the gray-haired prisoner done? + Has murder stained his hands with gore? + Not so; his crime's a fouler one; + God made the old man poor! + For this he shares a felon's cell, + The fittest earthly type of hell + For this, the boon for which he poured + His young blood on the invader's sword, + And counted light the fearful cost; + His blood-gained liberty is lost! + + And so, for such a place of rest, + Old prisoner, dropped thy blood as rain + On Concord's field, and Bunker's crest, + And Saratoga's plain? + Look forth, thou man of many scars, + Through thy dim dungeon's iron bars; + It must be joy, in sooth, to see + Yon monument upreared to thee; + Piled granite and a prison cell, + The land repays thy service well! + + Go, ring the bells and fire the guns, + And fling the starry banner out; + Shout "Freedom!" till your lisping ones + Give back their cradle-shout; + Let boastful eloquence declaim + Of honor, liberty, and fame; + Still let the poet's strain be heard, + With glory for each second word, + And everything with breath agree + To praise "our glorious liberty!" + + But when the patron cannon jars + That prison's cold and gloomy wall, + And through its grates the stripes and stars + Rise on the wind, and fall, + Think ye that prisoner's aged ear + Rejoices in the general cheer? + Think ye his dim and failing eye + Is kindled at your pageantry? + Sorrowing of soul, and chained of limb, + What is your carnival to him? + + Down with the law that binds him thus! + Unworthy freemen, let it find + No refuge from the withering curse + Of God and human-kind + Open the prison's living tomb, + And usher from its brooding gloom + The victims of your savage code + To the free sun and air of God; + No longer dare as crime to brand + The chastening of the Almighty's hand. + + 1849. + + + + +THE CHRISTIAN TOURISTS. + +The reader of the biography of William Allen, the philanthropic +associate of Clarkson and Romilly, cannot fail to admire his simple and +beautiful record of a tour through Europe, in the years 1818 and 1819, +in the company of his American friend, Stephen Grellett. + + + No aimless wanderers, by the fiend Unrest + Goaded from shore to shore; + No schoolmen, turning, in their classic quest, + The leaves of empire o'er. + Simple of faith, and bearing in their hearts + The love of man and God, + Isles of old song, the Moslem's ancient marts, + And Scythia's steppes, they trod. + + Where the long shadows of the fir and pine + In the night sun are cast, + And the deep heart of many a Norland mine + Quakes at each riving blast; + Where, in barbaric grandeur, Moskwa stands, + A baptized Scythian queen, + With Europe's arts and Asia's jewelled hands, + The North and East between! + + Where still, through vales of Grecian fable, stray + The classic forms of yore, + And beauty smiles, new risen from the spray, + And Dian weeps once more; + Where every tongue in Smyrna's mart resounds; + And Stamboul from the sea + Lifts her tall minarets over burial-grounds + Black with the cypress-tree. + + From Malta's temples to the gates of Rome, + Following the track of Paul, + And where the Alps gird round the Switzer's home + Their vast, eternal wall; + They paused not by the ruins of old time, + They scanned no pictures rare, + Nor lingered where the snow-locked mountains + climb + The cold abyss of air! + + But unto prisons, where men lay in chains, + To haunts where Hunger pined, + To kings and courts forgetful of the pains + And wants of human-kind, + Scattering sweet words, and quiet deeds of good, + Along their way, like flowers, + Or pleading, as Christ's freemen only could, + With princes and with powers; + + Their single aim the purpose to fulfil + Of Truth, from day to day, + Simply obedient to its guiding will, + They held their pilgrim way. + Yet dream not, hence, the beautiful and old + Were wasted on their sight, + Who in the school of Christ had learned to hold + All outward things aright. + + Not less to them the breath of vineyards blown + From off the Cyprian shore, + Not less for them the Alps in sunset shone, + That man they valued more. + A life of beauty lends to all it sees + The beauty of its thought; + And fairest forms and sweetest harmonies + Make glad its way, unsought. + + In sweet accordancy of praise and love, + The singing waters run; + And sunset mountains wear in light above + The smile of duty done; + Sure stands the promise,--ever to the meek + A heritage is given; + Nor lose they Earth who, single-hearted, seek + The righteousness of Heaven! + + 1849. + + + + +THE MEN OF OLD. + + "WELL speed thy mission, bold Iconoclast! + Yet all unworthy of its trust thou art, + If, with dry eye, and cold, unloving heart, + Thou tread'st the solemn Pantheon of the Past, + By the great Future's dazzling hope made blind + To all the beauty, power, and truth behind. + Not without reverent awe shouldst thou put by + The cypress branches and the amaranth blooms, + Where, with clasped hands of prayer, upon their tombs + The effigies of old confessors lie, + God's witnesses; the voices of His will, + Heard in the slow march of the centuries still + Such were the men at whose rebuking frown, + Dark with God's wrath, the tyrant's knee went down; + Such from the terrors of the guilty drew + The vassal's freedom and the poor man's due." + + St. Anselm (may he rest forevermore + In Heaven's sweet peace!) forbade, of old, the sale + Of men as slaves, and from the sacred pale + Hurled the Northumbrian buyers of the poor. + To ransom souls from bonds and evil fate + St. Ambrose melted down the sacred plate,-- + Image of saint, the chalice, and the pix, + Crosses of gold, and silver candlesticks. + "Man is worth more than temples!" he replied + To such as came his holy work to chide. + And brave Cesarius, stripping altars bare, + And coining from the Abbey's golden hoard + The captive's freedom, answered to the prayer + Or threat of those whose fierce zeal for the Lord + Stifled their love of man,--"An earthen dish + The last sad supper of the Master bore + Most miserable sinners! do ye wish + More than your Lord, and grudge His dying poor + What your own pride and not His need requires? + Souls, than these shining gauds, He values more + Mercy, not sacrifice, His heart desires!" + O faithful worthies! resting far behind + In your dark ages, since ye fell asleep, + Much has been done for truth and human-kind; + Shadows are scattered wherein ye groped blind; + Man claims his birthright, freer pulses leap + Through peoples driven in your day like sheep; + Yet, like your own, our age's sphere of light, + Though widening still, is walled around by night; + With slow, reluctant eye, the Church has read, + Skeptic at heart, the lessons of its Head; + Counting, too oft, its living members less + Than the wall's garnish and the pulpit's dress; + World-moving zeal, with power to bless and feed + Life's fainting pilgrims, to their utter need, + Instead of bread, holds out the stone of creed; + Sect builds and worships where its wealth and + pride + And vanity stand shrined and deified, + Careless that in the shadow of its walls + God's living temple into ruin falls. + We need, methinks, the prophet-hero still, + Saints true of life, and martyrs strong of will, + To tread the land, even now, as Xavier trod + The streets of Goa, barefoot, with his bell, + Proclaiming freedom in the name of God, + And startling tyrants with the fear of hell + Soft words, smooth prophecies, are doubtless well; + But to rebuke the age's popular crime, + We need the souls of fire, the hearts of that old + time! + + 1849. + + + + +TO PIUS IX. + +The writer of these lines is no enemy of Catholics. He has, on more than +one occasion, exposed himself to the censures of his Protestant +brethren, by his strenuous endeavors to procure indemnification for the +owners of the convent destroyed near Boston. He defended the cause of +the Irish patriots long before it had become popular in this country; +and he was one of the first to urge the most liberal aid to the +suffering and starving population of the Catholic island. The severity +of his language finds its ample apology in the reluctant confession of +one of the most eminent Romish priests, the eloquent and devoted Father +Ventura. + + + THE cannon's brazen lips are cold; + No red shell blazes down the air; + And street and tower, and temple old, + Are silent as despair. + + The Lombard stands no more at bay, + Rome's fresh young life has bled in vain; + The ravens scattered by the day + Come back with night again. + + Now, while the fratricides of France + Are treading on the neck of Rome, + Hider at Gaeta, seize thy chance! + Coward and cruel, come! + + Creep now from Naples' bloody skirt; + Thy mummer's part was acted well, + While Rome, with steel and fire begirt, + Before thy crusade fell! + + Her death-groans answered to thy prayer; + Thy chant, the drum and bugle-call; + Thy lights, the burning villa's glare; + Thy beads, the shell and ball! + + Let Austria clear thy way, with hands + Foul from Ancona's cruel sack, + And Naples, with his dastard bands + Of murderers, lead thee back! + + Rome's lips are dumb; the orphan's wail, + The mother's shriek, thou mayst not hear + Above the faithless Frenchman's hail, + The unsexed shaveling's cheer! + + Go, bind on Rome her cast-off weight, + The double curse of crook and crown, + Though woman's scorn and manhood's hate + From wall and roof flash down! + + Nor heed those blood-stains on the wall, + Not Tiber's flood can wash away, + Where, in thy stately Quirinal, + Thy mangled victims lay! + + Let the world murmur; let its cry + Of horror and disgust be heard; + Truth stands alone; thy coward lie + Is backed by lance and sword! + + The cannon of St. Angelo, + And chanting priest and clanging bell, + And beat of drum and bugle blow, + Shall greet thy coming well! + + Let lips of iron and tongues of slaves + Fit welcome give thee; for her part, + Rome, frowning o'er her new-made graves, + Shall curse thee from her heart! + + No wreaths of sad Campagna's flowers + Shall childhood in thy pathway fling; + No garlands from their ravaged bowers + Shall Terni's maidens bring; + + But, hateful as that tyrant old, + The mocking witness of his crime, + In thee shall loathing eyes behold + The Nero of our time! + + Stand where Rome's blood was freest shed, + Mock Heaven with impious thanks, and call + Its curses on the patriot dead, + Its blessings on the Gaul! + + Or sit upon thy throne of lies, + A poor, mean idol, blood-besmeared, + Whom even its worshippers despise, + Unhonored, unrevered! + + Yet, Scandal of the World! from thee + One needful truth mankind shall learn + That kings and priests to Liberty + And God are false in turn. + + Earth wearies of them; and the long + Meek sufferance of the Heavens doth fail; + Woe for weak tyrants, when the strong + Wake, struggle, and prevail! + + Not vainly Roman hearts have bled + To feed the Crosier and the Crown, + If, roused thereby, the world shall tread + The twin-born vampires down. + + 1849. + + + + +CALEF IN BOSTON. + +1692. + + IN the solemn days of old, + Two men met in Boston town, + One a tradesman frank and bold, + One a preacher of renown. + + Cried the last, in bitter tone: + "Poisoner of the wells of truth + Satan's hireling, thou hast sown + With his tares the heart of youth!" + + Spake the simple tradesman then, + "God be judge 'twixt thee and me; + All thou knowed of truth hath been + Once a lie to men like thee. + + "Falsehoods which we spurn to-day + Were the truths of long ago; + Let the dead boughs fall away, + Fresher shall the living grow. + + "God is good and God is light, + In this faith I rest secure; + Evil can but serve the right, + Over all shall love endure. + + "Of your spectral puppet play + I have traced the cunning wires; + Come what will, I needs must say, + God is true, and ye are liars." + + When the thought of man is free, + Error fears its lightest tones; + So the priest cried, "Sadducee!" + And the people took up stones. + + In the ancient burying-ground, + Side by side the twain now lie; + One with humble grassy mound, + One with marbles pale and high. + + But the Lord hath blest the seed + Which that tradesman scattered then, + And the preacher's spectral creed + Chills no more the blood of men. + + Let us trust, to one is known + Perfect love which casts out fear, + While the other's joys atone + For the wrong he suffered here. + + 1849. + + + + +OUR STATE. + + THE South-land boasts its teeming cane, + The prairied West its heavy grain, + And sunset's radiant gates unfold + On rising marts and sands of gold. + + Rough, bleak, and hard, our little State + Is scant of soil, of limits strait; + Her yellow sands are sands alone, + Her only mines are ice and stone! + + From Autumn frost to April rain, + Too long her winter woods complain; + From budding flower to falling leaf, + Her summer time is all too brief. + + Yet, on her rocks, and on her sands, + And wintry hills, the school-house stands, + And what her rugged soil denies, + The harvest of the mind supplies. + + The riches of the Commonwealth + Are free, strong minds, and hearts of health; + And more to her than gold or grain, + The cunning hand and cultured brain. + + For well she keeps her ancient stock, + The stubborn strength of Pilgrim Rock; + And still maintains, with milder laws, + And clearer light, the Good Old Cause. + + Nor heeds the skeptic's puny hands, + While near her school the church-spire stands; + Nor fears the blinded bigot's rule, + While near her church-spire stands the school. + + 1849. + + + + +THE PRISONERS OF NAPLES. + + I HAVE been thinking of the victims bound + In Naples, dying for the lack of air + And sunshine, in their close, damp cells of pain, + Where hope is not, and innocence in vain + Appeals against the torture and the chain! + Unfortunates! whose crime it was to share + Our common love of freedom, and to dare, + In its behalf, Rome's harlot triple-crowned, + And her base pander, the most hateful thing + Who upon Christian or on Pagan ground + Makes vile the old heroic name of king. + O God most merciful! Father just and kind + Whom man hath bound let thy right hand unbind. + Or, if thy purposes of good behind + Their ills lie hidden, let the sufferers find + Strong consolations; leave them not to doubt + Thy providential care, nor yet without + The hope which all thy attributes inspire, + That not in vain the martyr's robe of fire + Is worn, nor the sad prisoner's fretting chain; + Since all who suffer for thy truth send forth, + Electrical, with every throb of pain, + Unquenchable sparks, thy own baptismal rain + Of fire and spirit over all the earth, + Making the dead in slavery live again. + Let this great hope be with them, as they lie + Shut from the light, the greenness, and the sky; + From the cool waters and the pleasant breeze, + The smell of flowers, and shade of summer trees; + Bound with the felon lepers, whom disease + And sins abhorred make loathsome; let them share + Pellico's faith, Foresti's strength to bear + Years of unutterable torment, stern and still, + As the chained Titan victor through his will! + Comfort them with thy future; let them see + The day-dawn of Italian liberty; + For that, with all good things, is hid with Thee, + And, perfect in thy thought, awaits its time to be. + + I, who have spoken for freedom at the cost + Of some weak friendships, or some paltry prize + Of name or place, and more than I have lost + Have gained in wider reach of sympathies, + And free communion with the good and wise; + May God forbid that I should ever boast + Such easy self-denial, or repine + That the strong pulse of health no more is mine; + That, overworn at noonday, I must yield + To other hands the gleaning of the field; + A tired on-looker through the day's decline. + For blest beyond deserving still, and knowing + That kindly Providence its care is showing + In the withdrawal as in the bestowing, + Scarcely I dare for more or less to pray. + Beautiful yet for me this autumn day + Melts on its sunset hills; and, far away, + For me the Ocean lifts its solemn psalm, + To me the pine-woods whisper; and for me + Yon river, winding through its vales of calm, + By greenest banks, with asters purple-starred, + And gentian bloom and golden-rod made gay, + Flows down in silent gladness to the sea, + Like a pure spirit to its great reward! + + Nor lack I friends, long-tried and near and dear, + Whose love is round me like this atmosphere, + Warm, soft, and golden. For such gifts to me + What shall I render, O my God, to thee? + Let me not dwell upon my lighter share + Of pain and ill that human life must bear; + Save me from selfish pining; let my heart, + Drawn from itself in sympathy, forget + The bitter longings of a vain regret, + The anguish of its own peculiar smart. + Remembering others, as I have to-day, + In their great sorrows, let me live alway + Not for myself alone, but have a part, + Such as a frail and erring spirit may, + In love which is of Thee, and which indeed Thou art! + + 1851. + + + + +THE PEACE OF EUROPE. + + "GREAT peace in Europe! Order reigns + From Tiber's hills to Danube's plains!" + So say her kings and priests; so say + The lying prophets of our day. + + Go lay to earth a listening ear; + The tramp of measured marches hear; + The rolling of the cannon's wheel, + The shotted musket's murderous peal, + The night alarm, the sentry's call, + The quick-eared spy in hut and hall! + From Polar sea and tropic fen + The dying-groans of exiled men! + The bolted cell, the galley's chains, + The scaffold smoking with its stains! + Order, the hush of brooding slaves + Peace, in the dungeon-vaults and graves! + + O Fisher! of the world-wide net, + With meshes in all waters set, + Whose fabled keys of heaven and hell + Bolt hard the patriot's prison-cell, + And open wide the banquet-hall, + Where kings and priests hold carnival! + Weak vassal tricked in royal guise, + Boy Kaiser with thy lip of lies; + Base gambler for Napoleon's crown, + Barnacle on his dead renown! + Thou, Bourbon Neapolitan, + Crowned scandal, loathed of God and man + And thou, fell Spider of the North! + Stretching thy giant feelers forth, + Within whose web the freedom dies + Of nations eaten up like flies! + Speak, Prince and Kaiser, Priest and Czar I + If this be Peace, pray what is War? + + White Angel of the Lord! unmeet + That soil accursed for thy pure feet. + Never in Slavery's desert flows + The fountain of thy charmed repose; + No tyrant's hand thy chaplet weaves + Of lilies and of olive-leaves; + Not with the wicked shalt thou dwell, + Thus saith the Eternal Oracle; + Thy home is with the pure and free! + Stern herald of thy better day, + Before thee, to prepare thy way, + The Baptist Shade of Liberty, + Gray, scarred and hairy-robed, must press + With bleeding feet the wilderness! + Oh that its voice might pierces the ear + Of princes, trembling while they hear + A cry as of the Hebrew seer + Repent! God's kingdom draweth near! + + 1852. + + + + +ASTRAEA. + + "Jove means to settle + Astraea in her seat again, + And let down from his golden chain + An age of better metal." + BEN JONSON, 1615. + + + O POET rare and old! + Thy words are prophecies; + Forward the age of gold, + The new Saturnian lies. + + The universal prayer + And hope are not in vain; + Rise, brothers! and prepare + The way for Saturn's reign. + + Perish shall all which takes + From labor's board and can; + Perish shall all which makes + A spaniel of the man! + + Free from its bonds the mind, + The body from the rod; + Broken all chains that bind + The image of our God. + + Just men no longer pine + Behind their prison-bars; + Through the rent dungeon shine + The free sun and the stars. + + Earth own, at last, untrod + By sect, or caste, or clan, + The fatherhood of God, + The brotherhood of man! + + Fraud fail, craft perish, forth + The money-changers driven, + And God's will done on earth, + As now in heaven. + + 1852. + + + + +THE DISENTHRALLED. + + HE had bowed down to drunkenness, + An abject worshipper + The pride of manhood's pulse had grown + Too faint and cold to stir; + And he had given his spirit up + To the unblessed thrall, + And bowing to the poison cup, + He gloried in his fall! + + There came a change--the cloud rolled off, + And light fell on his brain-- + And like the passing of a dream + That cometh not again, + The shadow of the spirit fled. + He saw the gulf before, + He shuddered at the waste behind, + And was a man once more. + + He shook the serpent folds away, + That gathered round his heart, + As shakes the swaying forest-oak + Its poison vine apart; + He stood erect; returning pride + Grew terrible within, + And conscience sat in judgment, on + His most familiar sin. + + The light of Intellect again + Along his pathway shone; + And Reason like a monarch sat + Upon his olden throne. + The honored and the wise once more + Within his presence came; + And lingered oft on lovely lips + His once forbidden name. + + There may be glory in the might, + That treadeth nations down; + Wreaths for the crimson conqueror, + Pride for the kingly crown; + But nobler is that triumph hour, + The disenthralled shall find, + When evil passion boweth down, + Unto the Godlike mind. + + + + +THE POOR VOTER ON ELECTION DAY. + + THE proudest now is but my peer, + The highest not more high; + To-day, of all the weary year, + A king of men am I. + To-day, alike are great and small, + The nameless and the known; + My palace is the people's hall, + The ballot-box my throne! + + Who serves to-day upon the list + Beside the served shall stand; + Alike the brown and wrinkled fist, + The gloved and dainty hand! + The rich is level with the poor, + The weak is strong to-day; + And sleekest broadcloth counts no more + Than homespun frock of gray. + + To-day let pomp and vain pretence + My stubborn right abide; + I set a plain man's common sense + Against the pedant's pride. + To-day shall simple manhood try + The strength of gold and land; + The wide world has not wealth to buy + The power in my right hand! + + While there's a grief to seek redress, + Or balance to adjust, + Where weighs our living manhood less + Than Mammon's vilest dust,-- + While there's a right to need my vote, + A wrong to sweep away, + Up! clouted knee and ragged coat + A man's a man to-day. + + 1848. + + + + +THE DREAM OF PIO NONO. + + IT chanced that while the pious troops of France + Fought in the crusade Pio Nono preached, + What time the holy Bourbons stayed his hands + (The Hun and Aaron meet for such a Moses), + Stretched forth from Naples towards rebellious Rome + To bless the ministry of Oudinot, + And sanctify his iron homilies + And sharp persuasions of the bayonet, + That the great pontiff fell asleep, and dreamed. + + He stood by Lake Tiberias, in the sun + Of the bight Orient; and beheld the lame, + The sick, and blind, kneel at the Master's feet, + And rise up whole. And, sweetly over all, + Dropping the ladder of their hymn of praise + From heaven to earth, in silver rounds of song, + He heard the blessed angels sing of peace, + Good-will to man, and glory to the Lord. + + Then one, with feet unshod, and leathern face + Hardened and darkened by fierce summer suns + And hot winds of the desert, closer drew + His fisher's haick, and girded up his loins, + And spake, as one who had authority + "Come thou with me." + + Lakeside and eastern sky + And the sweet song of angels passed away, + And, with a dream's alacrity of change, + The priest, and the swart fisher by his side, + Beheld the Eternal City lift its domes + And solemn fanes and monumental pomp + Above the waste Campagna. On the hills + The blaze of burning villas rose and fell, + And momently the mortar's iron throat + Roared from the trenches; and, within the walls, + Sharp crash of shells, low groans of human pain, + Shout, drum beat, and the clanging larum-bell, + And tramp of hosts, sent up a mingled sound, + Half wail and half defiance. As they passed + The gate of San Pancrazio, human blood + Flowed ankle-high about them, and dead men + Choked the long street with gashed and gory piles,-- + A ghastly barricade of mangled flesh, + From which at times, quivered a living hand, + And white lips moved and moaned. A father tore + His gray hairs, by the body of his son, + In frenzy; and his fair young daughter wept + On his old bosom. Suddenly a flash + Clove the thick sulphurous air, and man and maid + Sank, crushed and mangled by the shattering shell. + + Then spake the Galilean: "Thou hast seen + The blessed Master and His works of love; + Look now on thine! Hear'st thou the angels sing + Above this open hell? Thou God's high-priest! + Thou the Vicegerent of the Prince of Peace! + Thou the successor of His chosen ones! + I, Peter, fisherman of Galilee, + In the dear Master's name, and for the love + Of His true Church, proclaim thee Antichrist, + Alien and separate from His holy faith, + Wide as the difference between death and life, + The hate of man and the great love of God! + Hence, and repent!" + + Thereat the pontiff woke, + Trembling, and muttering o'er his fearful dream. + "What means he?" cried the Bourbon, "Nothing more + Than that your majesty hath all too well + Catered for your poor guests, and that, in sooth, + The Holy Father's supper troubleth him," + Said Cardinal Antonelli, with a smile. + + 1853. + + + + +THE VOICES. + + WHY urge the long, unequal fight, + Since Truth has fallen in the street, + Or lift anew the trampled light, + Quenched by the heedless million's feet? + + "Give o'er the thankless task; forsake + The fools who know not ill from good + Eat, drink, enjoy thy own, and take + Thine ease among the multitude. + + "Live out thyself; with others share + Thy proper life no more; assume + The unconcern of sun and air, + For life or death, or blight or bloom. + + "The mountain pine looks calmly on + The fires that scourge the plains below, + Nor heeds the eagle in the sun + The small birds piping in the snow! + + "The world is God's, not thine; let Him + Work out a change, if change must be + The hand that planted best can trim + And nurse the old unfruitful tree." + + So spake the Tempter, when the light + Of sun and stars had left the sky; + I listened, through the cloud and night, + And beard, methought, a voice reply: + + "Thy task may well seem over-hard, + Who scatterest in a thankless soil + Thy life as seed, with no reward + Save that which Duty gives to Toil. + + "Not wholly is thy heart resigned + To Heaven's benign and just decree, + Which, linking thee with all thy kind, + Transmits their joys and griefs to thee. + + "Break off that sacred chain, and turn + Back on thyself thy love and care; + Be thou thine own mean idol, burn + Faith, Hope, and Trust, thy children, there. + + "Released from that fraternal law + Which shares the common bale and bliss, + No sadder lot could Folly draw, + Or Sin provoke from Fate, than this. + + "The meal unshared is food unblest + Thou hoard'st in vain what love should spend; + Self-ease is pain; thy only rest + Is labor for a worthy end; + + "A toil that gains with what it yields, + And scatters to its own increase, + And hears, while sowing outward fields, + The harvest-song of inward peace. + + "Free-lipped the liberal streamlets run, + Free shines for all the healthful ray; + The still pool stagnates in the sun, + The lurid earth-fire haunts decay. + + "What is it that the crowd requite + Thy love with hate, thy truth with lies? + And but to faith, and not to sight, + The walls of Freedom's temple rise? + + "Yet do thy work; it shall succeed + In thine or in another's day; + And, if denied the victor's meed, + Thou shalt not lack the toiler's pay. + + "Faith shares the future's promise; Love's + Self-offering is a triumph won; + And each good thought or action moves + The dark world nearer to the sun. + + "Then faint not, falter not, nor plead + Thy weakness; truth itself is strong; + The lion's strength, the eagle's speed, + Are not alone vouchsafed to wrong. + + "Thy nature, which, through fire and flood, + To place or gain finds out its way, + Hath power to seek the highest good, + And duty's holiest call obey! + + "Strivest thou in darkness?--Foes without + In league with traitor thoughts within; + Thy night-watch kept with trembling Doubt + And pale Remorse the ghost of Sin? + + "Hast thou not, on some week of storm, + Seen the sweet Sabbath breaking fair, + And cloud and shadow, sunlit, form + The curtains of its tent of prayer? + + "So, haply, when thy task shall end, + The wrong shall lose itself in right, + And all thy week-day darkness blend + With the long Sabbath of the light!" + + 1854. + + + + +THE NEW EXODUS. + +Written upon hearing that slavery had been formally abolished in Egypt. +Unhappily, the professions and pledges of the vacillating government of +Egypt proved unreliable. + + + BY fire and cloud, across the desert sand, + And through the parted waves, + From their long bondage, with an outstretched hand, + God led the Hebrew slaves! + + Dead as the letter of the Pentateuch, + As Egypt's statues cold, + In the adytum of the sacred book + Now stands that marvel old. + + "Lo, God is great!" the simple Moslem says. + We seek the ancient date, + Turn the dry scroll, and make that living phrase + A dead one: "God was great!" + + And, like the Coptic monks by Mousa's wells, + We dream of wonders past, + Vague as the tales the wandering Arab tells, + Each drowsier than the last. + + O fools and blind! Above the Pyramids + Stretches once more that hand, + And tranced Egypt, from her stony lids, + Flings back her veil of sand. + + And morning-smitten Memnon, singing, wakes; + And, listening by his Nile, + O'er Ammon's grave and awful visage breaks + A sweet and human smile. + + Not, as before, with hail and fire, and call + Of death for midnight graves, + But in the stillness of the noonday, fall + The fetters of the slaves. + + No longer through the Red Sea, as of old, + The bondmen walk dry shod; + Through human hearts, by love of Him controlled, + Runs now that path of God. + + 1856. + + + + +THE CONQUEST OF FINLAND. + +"Joseph Sturge, with a companion, Thomas Harvey, has been visiting the +shores of Finland, to ascertain the amount of mischief and loss to poor +and peaceable sufferers, occasioned by the gun-boats of the allied +squadrons in the late war, with a view to obtaining relief for them."-- +Friends' Review. + + + ACROSS the frozen marshes + The winds of autumn blow, + And the fen-lands of the Wetter + Are white with early snow. + + But where the low, gray headlands + Look o'er the Baltic brine, + A bark is sailing in the track + Of England's battle-line. + + No wares hath she to barter + For Bothnia's fish and grain; + She saileth not for pleasure, + She saileth not for gain. + + But still by isle or mainland + She drops her anchor down, + Where'er the British cannon + Rained fire on tower and town. + + Outspake the ancient Amtman, + At the gate of Helsingfors + "Why comes this ship a-spying + In the track of England's wars?" + + "God bless her," said the coast-guard,-- + "God bless the ship, I say. + The holy angels trim the sails + That speed her on her way! + + "Where'er she drops her anchor, + The peasant's heart is glad; + Where'er she spreads her parting sail, + The peasant's heart is sad. + + "Each wasted town and hamlet + She visits to restore; + To roof the shattered cabin, + And feed the starving poor. + + "The sunken boats of fishers, + The foraged beeves and grain, + The spoil of flake and storehouse, + The good ship brings again. + + "And so to Finland's sorrow + The sweet amend is made, + As if the healing hand of Christ + Upon her wounds were laid!" + + Then said the gray old Amtman, + "The will of God be done! + The battle lost by England's hate, + By England's love is won! + + "We braved the iron tempest + That thundered on our shore; + But when did kindness fail to find + The key to Finland's door? + + "No more from Aland's ramparts + Shall warning signal come, + Nor startled Sweaborg hear again + The roll of midnight drum. + + "Beside our fierce Black Eagle + The Dove of Peace shall rest; + And in the mouths of cannon + The sea-bird make her nest. + + "For Finland, looking seaward, + No coming foe shall scan; + And the holy bells of Abo + Shall ring, 'Good-will to man!' + + "Then row thy boat, O fisher! + In peace on lake and bay; + And thou, young maiden, dance again + Around the poles of May! + + "Sit down, old men, together, + Old wives, in quiet spin; + Henceforth the Anglo-Saxon + Is the brother of the Finn!" + + 1856. + + + + +THE EVE OF ELECTION. + + FROM gold to gray + Our mild sweet day + Of Indian Summer fades too soon; + But tenderly + Above the sea + Hangs, white and calm, the hunter's moon. + + In its pale fire, + The village spire + Shows like the zodiac's spectral lance; + The painted walls + Whereon it falls + Transfigured stand in marble trance! + + O'er fallen leaves + The west-wind grieves, + Yet comes a seed-time round again; + And morn shall see + The State sown free + With baleful tares or healthful grain. + + Along the street + The shadows meet + Of Destiny, whose hands conceal + The moulds of fate + That shape the State, + And make or mar the common weal. + + Around I see + The powers that be; + I stand by Empire's primal springs; + And princes meet, + In every street, + And hear the tread of uncrowned kings! + + Hark! through the crowd + The laugh runs loud, + Beneath the sad, rebuking moon. + God save the land + A careless hand + May shake or swerve ere morrow's noon! + + No jest is this; + One cast amiss + May blast the hope of Freedom's year. + Oh, take me where + Are hearts of prayer, + And foreheads bowed in reverent fear! + + Not lightly fall + Beyond recall + The written scrolls a breath can float; + The crowning fact + The kingliest act + Of Freedom is the freeman's vote! + + For pearls that gem + A diadem + The diver in the deep sea dies; + The regal right + We boast to-night + Is ours through costlier sacrifice; + + The blood of Vane, + His prison pain + Who traced the path the Pilgrim trod, + And hers whose faith + Drew strength from death, + And prayed her Russell up to God! + + Our hearts grow cold, + We lightly hold + A right which brave men died to gain; + The stake, the cord, + The axe, the sword, + Grim nurses at its birth of pain. + + The shadow rend, + And o'er us bend, + O martyrs, with your crowns and palms; + Breathe through these throngs + Your battle songs, + Your scaffold prayers, and dungeon psalms. + + Look from the sky, + Like God's great eye, + Thou solemn moon, with searching beam, + Till in the sight + Of thy pure light + Our mean self-seekings meaner seem. + + Shame from our hearts + Unworthy arts, + The fraud designed, the purpose dark; + And smite away + The hands we lay + Profanely on the sacred ark. + + To party claims + And private aims, + Reveal that august face of Truth, + Whereto are given + The age of heaven, + The beauty of immortal youth. + + So shall our voice + Of sovereign choice + Swell the deep bass of duty done, + And strike the key + Of time to be, + When God and man shall speak as one! + + 1858. + + + + +FROM PERUGIA. + +"The thing which has the most dissevered the people from the Pope,--the +unforgivable thing,--the breaking point between him and them,--has been +the encouragement and promotion he gave to the officer under whom were +executed the slaughters of Perugia. That made the breaking point in many +honest hearts that had clung to him before."--HARRIET BEECHER STOWE'S +Letters from Italy. + + + The tall, sallow guardsmen their horsetails have spread, + Flaming out in their violet, yellow, and red; + And behind go the lackeys in crimson and buff, + And the chamberlains gorgeous in velvet and ruff; + Next, in red-legged pomp, come the cardinals forth, + Each a lord of the church and a prince of the earth. + + What's this squeak of the fife, and this batter of drum + Lo! the Swiss of the Church from Perugia come; + The militant angels, whose sabres drive home + To the hearts of the malcontents, cursed and abhorred, + The good Father's missives, and "Thus saith the Lord!" + And lend to his logic the point of the sword! + + O maids of Etruria, gazing forlorn + O'er dark Thrasymenus, dishevelled and torn! + O fathers, who pluck at your gray beards for shame! + O mothers, struck dumb by a woe without name! + Well ye know how the Holy Church hireling behaves, + And his tender compassion of prisons and graves! + + There they stand, the hired stabbers, the blood-stains yet fresh, + That splashed like red wine from the vintage of flesh; + Grim instruments, careless as pincers and rack + How the joints tear apart, and the strained sinews crack; + But the hate that glares on them is sharp as their swords, + And the sneer and the scowl print the air with fierce words! + + Off with hats, down with knees, shout your vivas like mad! + Here's the Pope in his holiday righteousness clad, + From shorn crown to toe-nail, kiss-worn to the quick, + Of sainthood in purple the pattern and pick, + Who the role of the priest and the soldier unites, + And, praying like Aaron, like Joshua fights! + + Is this Pio Nono the gracious, for whom + We sang our hosannas and lighted all Rome; + With whose advent we dreamed the new era began + When the priest should be human, the monk be a man? + Ah, the wolf's with the sheep, and the fox with the fowl, + When freedom we trust to the crosier and cowl! + + Stand aside, men of Rome! Here's a hangman-faced Swiss-- + (A blessing for him surely can't go amiss)-- + Would kneel down the sanctified slipper to kiss. + Short shrift will suffice him,--he's blest beyond doubt; + But there 's blood on his hands which would scarcely wash out, + Though Peter himself held the baptismal spout! + + Make way for the next! Here's another sweet son + What's this mastiff-jawed rascal in epaulets done? + He did, whispers rumor, (its truth God forbid!) + At Perugia what Herod at Bethlehem did. + And the mothers? Don't name them! these humors of war + They who keep him in service must pardon him for. + + Hist! here's the arch-knave in a cardinal's hat, + With the heart of a wolf, and the stealth of a cat + (As if Judas and Herod together were rolled), + Who keeps, all as one, the Pope's conscience and gold, + Mounts guard on the altar, and pilfers from thence, + And flatters St. Peter while stealing his pence! + + + Who doubts Antonelli? Have miracles ceased + When robbers say mass, and Barabbas is priest? + When the Church eats and drinks, at its mystical board, + The true flesh and blood carved and shed by its sword, + When its martyr, unsinged, claps the crown on his head, + And roasts, as his proxy, his neighbor instead! + + There! the bells jow and jangle the same blessed way + That they did when they rang for Bartholomew's day. + Hark! the tallow-faced monsters, nor women nor boys, + Vex the air with a shrill, sexless horror of noise. + Te Deum laudamus! All round without stint + The incense-pot swings with a taint of blood in 't! + + And now for the blessing! Of little account, + You know, is the old one they heard on the Mount. + Its giver was landless, His raiment was poor, + No jewelled tiara His fishermen wore; + No incense, no lackeys, no riches, no home, + No Swiss guards! We order things better at Rome. + + So bless us the strong hand, and curse us the weak; + Let Austria's vulture have food for her beak; + Let the wolf-whelp of Naples play Bomba again, + With his death-cap of silence, and halter, and chain; + Put reason, and justice, and truth under ban; + For the sin unforgiven is freedom for man! + + 1858. + + + + +ITALY. + + ACROSS the sea I heard the groans + Of nations in the intervals + Of wind and wave. Their blood and bones + Cried out in torture, crushed by thrones, + And sucked by priestly cannibals. + + I dreamed of Freedom slowly gained + By martyr meekness, patience, faith, + And lo! an athlete grimly stained, + With corded muscles battle-strained, + Shouting it from the fields of death! + + I turn me, awe-struck, from the sight, + Among the clamoring thousands mute, + I only know that God is right, + And that the children of the light + Shall tread the darkness under foot. + + I know the pent fire heaves its crust, + That sultry skies the bolt will form + To smite them clear; that Nature must + The balance of her powers adjust, + Though with the earthquake and the storm. + + God reigns, and let the earth rejoice! + I bow before His sterner plan. + Dumb are the organs of my choice; + He speaks in battle's stormy voice, + His praise is in the wrath of man! + + Yet, surely as He lives, the day + Of peace He promised shall be ours, + To fold the flags of war, and lay + Its sword and spear to rust away, + And sow its ghastly fields with flowers! + + 1860. + + + + +FREEDOM IN BRAZIL. + + WITH clearer light, Cross of the South, shine forth + In blue Brazilian skies; + And thou, O river, cleaving half the earth + From sunset to sunrise, + + From the great mountains to the Atlantic waves + Thy joy's long anthem pour. + Yet a few years (God make them less!) and slaves + Shall shame thy pride no more. + No fettered feet thy shaded margins press; + But all men shall walk free + Where thou, the high-priest of the wilderness, + Hast wedded sea to sea. + + And thou, great-hearted ruler, through whose mouth + The word of God is said, + Once more, "Let there be light!"--Son of the South, + Lift up thy honored head, + Wear unashamed a crown by thy desert + More than by birth thy own, + Careless of watch and ward; thou art begirt + By grateful hearts alone. + The moated wall and battle-ship may fail, + But safe shall justice prove; + Stronger than greaves of brass or iron mail + The panoply of love. + + Crowned doubly by man's blessing and God's grace, + Thy future is secure; + Who frees a people makes his statue's place + In Time's Valhalla sure. + Lo! from his Neva's banks the Scythian Czar + Stretches to thee his hand, + Who, with the pencil of the Northern star, + Wrote freedom on his land. + And he whose grave is holy by our calm + And prairied Sangamon, + From his gaunt hand shall drop the martyr's palm + To greet thee with "Well done!" + + And thou, O Earth, with smiles thy face make sweet, + And let thy wail be stilled, + To hear the Muse of prophecy repeat + Her promise half fulfilled. + The Voice that spake at Nazareth speaks still, + No sound thereof hath died; + Alike thy hope and Heaven's eternal will + Shall yet be satisfied. + The years are slow, the vision tarrieth long, + And far the end may be; + But, one by one, the fiends of ancient wrong + Go out and leave thee free. + + 1867. + + + + +AFTER ELECTION. + + THE day's sharp strife is ended now, + Our work is done, God knoweth how! + As on the thronged, unrestful town + The patience of the moon looks down, + I wait to hear, beside the wire, + The voices of its tongues of fire. + + Slow, doubtful, faint, they seem at first + Be strong, my heart, to know the worst! + Hark! there the Alleghanies spoke; + That sound from lake and prairie broke, + That sunset-gun of triumph rent + The silence of a continent! + + That signal from Nebraska sprung, + This, from Nevada's mountain tongue! + Is that thy answer, strong and free, + O loyal heart of Tennessee? + What strange, glad voice is that which calls + From Wagner's grave and Sumter's walls? + + From Mississippi's fountain-head + A sound as of the bison's tread! + There rustled freedom's Charter Oak + In that wild burst the Ozarks spoke! + Cheer answers cheer from rise to set + Of sun. We have a country yet! + + The praise, O God, be thine alone! + Thou givest not for bread a stone; + Thou hast not led us through the night + To blind us with returning light; + Not through the furnace have we passed, + To perish at its mouth at last. + + O night of peace, thy flight restrain! + November's moon, be slow to wane! + Shine on the freedman's cabin floor, + On brows of prayer a blessing pour; + And give, with full assurance blest, + The weary heart of Freedom rest! + + 1868. + + + + +DISARMAMENT. + + "PUT up the sword!" The voice of Christ once more + Speaks, in the pauses of the cannon's roar, + O'er fields of corn by fiery sickles reaped + And left dry ashes; over trenches heaped + With nameless dead; o'er cities starving slow + Under a rain of fire; through wards of woe + Down which a groaning diapason runs + From tortured brothers, husbands, lovers, sons + Of desolate women in their far-off homes, + Waiting to hear the step that never comes! + O men and brothers! let that voice be heard. + War fails, try peace; put up the useless sword! + + Fear not the end. There is a story told + In Eastern tents, when autumn nights grow cold, + And round the fire the Mongol shepherds sit + With grave responses listening unto it + Once, on the errands of his mercy bent, + Buddha, the holy and benevolent, + Met a fell monster, huge and fierce of look, + Whose awful voice the hills and forests shook. + "O son of peace!" the giant cried, "thy fate + Is sealed at last, and love shall yield to hate." + The unarmed Buddha looking, with no trace + Of fear or anger, in the monster's face, + In pity said: "Poor fiend, even thee I love." + Lo! as he spake the sky-tall terror sank + To hand-breadth size; the huge abhorrence shrank + Into the form and fashion of a dove; + And where the thunder of its rage was heard, + Circling above him sweetly sang the bird + "Hate hath no harm for love," so ran the song; + "And peace unweaponed conquers every wrong!" + + 1871. + + + + +THE PROBLEM. + + I. + NOT without envy Wealth at times must look + On their brown strength who wield the reaping-hook + And scythe, or at the forge-fire shape the plough + Or the steel harness of the steeds of steam; + All who, by skill and patience, anyhow + Make service noble, and the earth redeem + From savageness. By kingly accolade + Than theirs was never worthier knighthood made. + Well for them, if, while demagogues their vain + And evil counsels proffer, they maintain + Their honest manhood unseduced, and wage + No war with Labor's right to Labor's gain + Of sweet home-comfort, rest of hand and brain, + And softer pillow for the head of Age. + + II. + And well for Gain if it ungrudging yields + Labor its just demand; and well for Ease + If in the uses of its own, it sees + No wrong to him who tills its pleasant fields + And spreads the table of its luxuries. + The interests of the rich man and the poor + Are one and same, inseparable evermore; + And, when scant wage or labor fail to give + Food, shelter, raiment, wherewithal to live, + Need has its rights, necessity its claim. + Yea, even self-wrought misery and shame + Test well the charity suffering long and kind. + The home-pressed question of the age can find + No answer in the catch-words of the blind + Leaders of blind. Solution there is none + Save in the Golden Rule of Christ alone. + + 1877. + + + + +OUR COUNTRY. + +Read at Woodstock, Conn., July 4,1883. + + + WE give thy natal day to hope, + O Country of our love and prayer I + Thy way is down no fatal slope, + But up to freer sun and air. + + Tried as by furnace-fires, and yet + By God's grace only stronger made, + In future tasks before thee set + Thou shalt not lack the old-time aid. + + The fathers sleep, but men remain + As wise, as true, and brave as they; + Why count the loss and not the gain? + The best is that we have to-day. + + Whate'er of folly, shame, or crime, + Within thy mighty bounds transpires, + With speed defying space and time + Comes to us on the accusing wires; + + While of thy wealth of noble deeds, + Thy homes of peace, thy votes unsold, + The love that pleads for human needs, + The wrong redressed, but half is told! + + We read each felon's chronicle, + His acts, his words, his gallows-mood; + We know the single sinner well + And not the nine and ninety good. + + Yet if, on daily scandals fed, + We seem at times to doubt thy worth, + We know thee still, when all is said, + The best and dearest spot on earth. + + From the warm Mexic Gulf, or where + Belted with flowers Los Angeles + Basks in the semi-tropic air, + To where Katahdin's cedar trees + + Are dwarfed and bent by Northern winds, + Thy plenty's horn is yearly filled; + Alone, the rounding century finds + Thy liberal soil by free hands tilled. + + A refuge for the wronged and poor, + Thy generous heart has borne the blame + That, with them, through thy open door, + The old world's evil outcasts came. + + But, with thy just and equal rule, + And labor's need and breadth of lands, + Free press and rostrum, church and school, + Thy sure, if slow, transforming hands + + Shall mould even them to thy design, + Making a blessing of the ban; + And Freedom's chemistry combine + The alien elements of man. + + The power that broke their prison bar + And set the dusky millions free, + And welded in the flame of war + The Union fast to Liberty, + + Shall it not deal with other ills, + Redress the red man's grievance, break + The Circean cup which shames and kills, + And Labor full requital make? + + Alone to such as fitly bear + Thy civic honors bid them fall? + And call thy daughters forth to share + The rights and duties pledged to all? + + Give every child his right of school, + Merge private greed in public good, + And spare a treasury overfull + The tax upon a poor man's food? + + No lack was in thy primal stock, + No weakling founders builded here; + Thine were the men of Plymouth Rock, + The Huguenot and Cavalier; + + And they whose firm endurance gained + The freedom of the souls of men, + Whose hands, unstained with blood, maintained + The swordless commonwealth of Penn. + + And thine shall be the power of all + To do the work which duty bids, + And make the people's council hall + As lasting as the Pyramids! + + Well have thy later years made good + Thy brave-said word a century back, + The pledge of human brotherhood, + The equal claim of white and black. + + That word still echoes round the world, + And all who hear it turn to thee, + And read upon thy flag unfurled + The prophecies of destiny. + + Thy great world-lesson all shall learn, + The nations in thy school shall sit, + Earth's farthest mountain-tops shall burn + With watch-fires from thy own uplit. + + Great without seeking to be great + By fraud or conquest, rich in gold, + But richer in the large estate + Of virtue which thy children hold, + + With peace that comes of purity + And strength to simple justice due, + So runs our loyal dream of thee; + God of our fathers! make it true. + + O Land of lands! to thee we give + Our prayers, our hopes, our service free; + For thee thy sons shall nobly live, + And at thy need shall die for thee! + + + + +ON THE BIG HORN. + +In the disastrous battle on the Big Horn River, in which General Custer +and his entire force were slain, the chief Rain-in-the-Face was one of +the fiercest leaders of the Indians. In Longfellow's poem on the +massacre, these lines will be remembered:-- + + "Revenge!" cried Rain-in-the-Face, + "Revenge upon all the race + Of the White Chief with yellow hair!" + And the mountains dark and high + From their crags reechoed the cry + Of his anger and despair. + +He is now a man of peace; and the agent at Standing Rock, Dakota, +writes, September 28, 1886: "Rain-in-the-Face is very anxious to go to +Hampton. I fear he is too old, but he desires very much to go." The +Southern Workman, the organ of General Armstrong's Industrial School at +Hampton, Va., says in a late number:-- + +"Rain-in-the-Face has applied before to come to Hampton, but his age +would exclude him from the school as an ordinary student. He has shown +himself very much in earnest about it, and is anxious, all say, to learn +the better ways of life. It is as unusual as it is striking to see a man +of his age, and one who has had such an experience, willing to give up +the old way, and put himself in the position of a boy and a student." + + + THE years are but half a score, + And the war-whoop sounds no more + With the blast of bugles, where + Straight into a slaughter pen, + With his doomed three hundred men, + Rode the chief with the yellow hair. + + O Hampton, down by the sea! + What voice is beseeching thee + For the scholar's lowliest place? + Can this be the voice of him + Who fought on the Big Horn's rim? + Can this be Rain-in-the-Face? + + His war-paint is washed away, + His hands have forgotten to slay; + He seeks for himself and his race + The arts of peace and the lore + That give to the skilled hand more + Than the spoils of war and chase. + + O chief of the Christ-like school! + Can the zeal of thy heart grow cool + When the victor scarred with fight + Like a child for thy guidance craves, + And the faces of hunters and braves + Are turning to thee for light? + + The hatchet lies overgrown + With grass by the Yellowstone, + Wind River and Paw of Bear; + And, in sign that foes are friends, + Each lodge like a peace-pipe sends + Its smoke in the quiet air. + + The hands that have done the wrong + To right the wronged are strong, + And the voice of a nation saith + "Enough of the war of swords, + Enough of the lying words + And shame of a broken faith!" + + The hills that have watched afar + The valleys ablaze with war + Shall look on the tasselled corn; + And the dust of the grinded grain, + Instead of the blood of the slain, + Shall sprinkle thy banks, Big Horn! + + The Ute and the wandering Crow + Shall know as the white men know, + And fare as the white men fare; + The pale and the red shall be brothers, + One's rights shall be as another's, + Home, School, and House of Prayer! + + O mountains that climb to snow, + O river winding below, + Through meadows by war once trod, + O wild, waste lands that await + The harvest exceeding great, + Break forth into praise of God! + + 1887. + + + + +NOTES + +Note 1, page 18. The reader may, perhaps, call to mind the beautiful +sonnet of William Wordsworth, addressed to Toussaint L'Ouverture, during +his confinement in France. + + "Toussaint!--thou most unhappy man of men + Whether the whistling rustic tends his plough + Within thy hearing, or thou liest now + Buried in some deep dungeon's earless den; + O miserable chieftain!--where and when + Wilt thou find patience?--Yet, die not, do thou + Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow; + Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, + Live and take comfort. Thou hast left behind + Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies,-- + There's not a breathing of the common wind + That will forget thee; thou hast great allies. + Thy friends are exultations, agonies, + And love, and man's unconquerable mind." + + +Note 2, page 67. The Northern author of the Congressional rule against +receiving petitions of the people on the subject of Slavery. + + +Note 3, page 88. There was at the time when this poem was written an +Association in Liberty County, Georgia, for the religious instruction of +negroes. One of their annual reports contains an address by the Rev. +Josiah Spry Law, in which the following passage occurs: "There is a +growing interest in this community in the religious instruction of +negroes. There is a conviction that religious instruction promotes the +quiet and order of the people, and the pecuniary interest of the +owners." + + +Note 4, page 117. The book-establishment of the Free-Will Baptists in +Dover was refused the act of incorporation by the New Hampshire +Legislature, for the reason that the newspaper organ of that sect and +its leading preachers favored abolition. + + +Note 5, page 118. The senatorial editor of the Belknap Gazette all along +manifested a peculiar horror of "niggers" and "nigger parties." + + +Note 6, page 118. The justice before whom Elder Storrs was brought for +preaching abolition on a writ drawn by Hon. M. N., Jr., of Pittsfield. +The sheriff served the writ while the elder was praying. + + +Note 7, page 118. The academy at Canaan, N. H., received one or two +colored scholars, and was in consequence dragged off into a swamp by +Democratic teams. + + +Note 8, page 119. "Papers and memorials touching the subject of slavery +shall be laid on the table without reading, debate, or reference." So +read the gag-law, as it was called, introduced in the House by Mr. +Atherton. + + +Note 9, page 120. The Female Anti-Slavery Society, at its first meeting +in Concord, was assailed with stones and brickbats. + + +Note 10, page 168. The election of Charles Sumner to the United States +Senate "followed hard upon" the rendition of the fugitive Sims by the +United States officials and the armed police of Boston. + + +Note 11, page 290. For the idea of this line, I am indebted to Emerson, +in his inimitable sonnet to the Rhodora,-- + + "If eyes were made for seeing, + Then Beauty is its own excuse for being." + + + + + +VOLUME IV. PERSONAL POEMS + + +CONTENTS + + PERSONAL POEMS + A LAMENT + TO THE MEMORY OF CHARLES B. STORRS + LINES ON THE DEATH OF S. OLIVER TORREY + TO ----, WITH A COPY OF WOOLMAN'S JOURNAL + LEGGETT'S MONUMENT + TO A FRIEND, ON HER RETURN FROM EUROPE + LUCY HOOPER + FOLLEN + TO J. P. + CHALKLEY HALL + GONE + TO RONGE + CHANNING + TO MY FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF HIS SISTER + DANIEL WHEELER + TO FREDRIKA BREMER + TO AVIS KEENE + THE HILL-TOP + ELLIOTT + ICHABOD + THE LOST OCCASION + WORDSWORTH + TO ---- LINES WRITTEN AFTER A SUMMER DAY'S EXCURSION + IN PEACE + BENEDICITE + KOSSUTH + TO MY OLD SCHOOLMASTER + THE CROSS + THE HERO + RANTOUL + WILLIAM FORSTER + TO CHARLES SUMNER + BURNS + TO GEORGE B. CHEEVER + TO JAMES T. FIELDS + THE MEMORY OF BURNS + IN REMEMBRANCE OF JOSEPH STURGER + BROWN OF OSSAWATOMIE + NAPLES + A MEMORIAL + BRYANT ON HIS BIRTHDAY + THOMAS STARR KING + LINES ON A FLY-LEAF + GEORGE L. STEARNS + GARIBALDI + TO LYDIA MARIA CHILD + THE SINGER + HOW MARY GREW + SUMNER + THIERS + FITZ-GREENE HALLECK + WILLIAM FRANCIS BARTLETT + BAYARD TAYLOR + OUR AUTOCRAT + WITHIN THE GATE + IN MEMORY: JAMES T. FIELDS + WILSON + THE POET AND THE CHILDREN + A WELCOME TO LOWELL + AN ARTIST OF THE BEAUTIFUL + MULFORD + TO A CAPE ANN SCHOONER + SAMUEL J. TILDEN + + OCCASIONAL POEMS. + EVA + A LAY OF OLD TIME + A SONG OF HARVEST + KENOZA LAKE + FOR AN AUTUMN FESTIVAL + THE QUAKER ALUMNI + OUR RIVER + REVISITED + "THE LAURELS" + JUNE ON THE MERRIMAC + HYMN FOR THE OPENING OF THOMAS STARR KING'S HOUSE OF WORSHIP + HYMN FOR THE HOUSE OF WORSHIP AT GEORGETOWN, ERECTED IN MEMORY + OF A MOTHER + A SPIRITUAL MANIFESTATION + CHICAGO + KINSMAN + THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD + HYMN FOR THE OPENING OF PLYMOUTH CHURCH, ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA + LEXINGTON + THE LIBRARY + "I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN" + CENTENNIAL HYMN + AT SCHOOL-CLOSE + HYMN OF THE CHILDREN + THE LANDMARKS + GARDEN + A GREETING + GODSPEED + WINTER ROSES + THE REUNION + NORUMBEGA HALL + THE BARTHOLDI STATUE + ONE OF THE SIGNERS + + THE TENT ON THE BEACH. + PRELUDE + THE TENT ON THE BEACH + THE WRECK OF RIVERMOUTH + THE GRAVE BY THE LAKE + THE BROTHER OF MERCY + THE CHANGELING + THE MAIDS OF ATTITASH + KALLUNDBORG CHURCH + THE CABLE HYMN + THE DEAD SHIP OF HARPSWELL + THE PALATINE + ABRAHAM DAVENPORT + THE WORSHIP OF NATURE + + AT SUNDOWN. + TO E. C. S. + THE CHRISTMAS OF 1888. + THE Vow OF WASHINGTON + THE CAPTAIN'S WELL + AN OUTDOOR RECEPTION + R. S. S., AT DEER ISLAND ON THE MERRIMAC + BURNING DRIFT-WOOD. + O. W. HOLMES ON HIS EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY + JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL + HAVERHILL. 1640-1890 + To G. G. + PRESTON POWERS, INSCRIPTION FOR BASS-RELIEF + LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY, INSCRIPTION ON TABLET + MILTON, ON MEMORIAL WINDOW + THE BIRTHDAY WREATH + THE WIND OF MARCH + BETWEEN THE GATES + THE LAST EVE OF SUMMER + TO OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, 8TH Mo. 29TH, 1892 + + + +NOTE. The portrait prefacing this volume is from an engraving on steel +by J. A. J. WILCOX in 1888, after a photograph taken by Miss ISA E. GRAY +in July, 1885. + + + + +A LAMENT + + "The parted spirit, + Knoweth it not our sorrow? Answereth not + Its blessing to our tears?" + + The circle is broken, one seat is forsaken, + One bud from the tree of our friendship is shaken; + One heart from among us no longer shall thrill + With joy in our gladness, or grief in our ill. + + Weep! lonely and lowly are slumbering now + The light of her glances, the pride of her brow; + Weep! sadly and long shall we listen in vain + To hear the soft tones of her welcome again. + + Give our tears to the dead! For humanity's claim + From its silence and darkness is ever the same; + The hope of that world whose existence is bliss + May not stifle the tears of the mourners of this. + + For, oh! if one glance the freed spirit can throw + On the scene of its troubled probation below, + Than the pride of the marble, the pomp of the dead, + To that glance will be dearer the tears which we shed. + + Oh, who can forget the mild light of her smile, + Over lips moved with music and feeling the while, + The eye's deep enchantment, dark, dream-like, and clear, + In the glow of its gladness, the shade of its tear. + + And the charm of her features, while over the whole + Played the hues of the heart and the sunshine of soul; + And the tones of her voice, like the music which seems + Murmured low in our ears by the Angel of dreams! + + But holier and dearer our memories hold + Those treasures of feeling, more precious than gold, + The love and the kindness and pity which gave + Fresh flowers for the bridal, green wreaths for the grave! + + The heart ever open to Charity's claim, + Unmoved from its purpose by censure and blame, + While vainly alike on her eye and her ear + Fell the scorn of the heartless, the jesting and jeer. + + How true to our hearts was that beautiful sleeper + With smiles for the joyful, with tears for the weeper, + Yet, evermore prompt, whether mournful or gay, + With warnings in love to the passing astray. + + For, though spotless herself, she could sorrow for them + Who sullied with evil the spirit's pure gem; + And a sigh or a tear could the erring reprove, + And the sting of reproof was still tempered by love. + + As a cloud of the sunset, slow melting in heaven, + As a star that is lost when the daylight is given, + As a glad dream of slumber, which wakens in bliss, + She hath passed to the world of the holy from this. + + 1834. + + + + +TO THE MEMORY OF CHARLES B. STORRS, + +Late President of Western Reserve College, who died at his post of duty, +overworn by his strenuous labors with tongue and pen in the cause of +Human Freedom. + + + Thou hast fallen in thine armor, + Thou martyr of the Lord + With thy last breath crying "Onward!" + And thy hand upon the sword. + The haughty heart derideth, + And the sinful lip reviles, + But the blessing of the perishing + Around thy pillow smiles! + + When to our cup of trembling + The added drop is given, + And the long-suspended thunder + Falls terribly from Heaven,-- + When a new and fearful freedom + Is proffered of the Lord + To the slow-consuming Famine, + The Pestilence and Sword! + + When the refuges of Falsehood + Shall be swept away in wrath, + And the temple shall be shaken, + With its idol, to the earth, + Shall not thy words of warning + Be all remembered then? + And thy now unheeded message + Burn in the hearts of men? + + Oppression's hand may scatter + Its nettles on thy tomb, + And even Christian bosoms + Deny thy memory room; + For lying lips shall torture + Thy mercy into crime, + And the slanderer shall flourish + As the bay-tree for a time. + + But where the south-wind lingers + On Carolina's pines, + Or falls the careless sunbeam + Down Georgia's golden mines; + Where now beneath his burthen + The toiling slave is driven; + Where now a tyrant's mockery + Is offered unto Heaven; + + Where Mammon hath its altars + Wet o'er with human blood, + And pride and lust debases + The workmanship of God,-- + There shall thy praise be spoken, + Redeemed from Falsehood's ban, + When the fetters shall be broken, + And the slave shall be a man! + + Joy to thy spirit, brother! + A thousand hearts are warm, + A thousand kindred bosoms + Are baring to the storm. + What though red-handed Violence + With secret Fraud combine? + The wall of fire is round us, + Our Present Help was thine. + + Lo, the waking up of nations, + From Slavery's fatal sleep; + The murmur of a Universe, + Deep calling unto Deep! + Joy to thy spirit, brother! + On every wind of heaven + The onward cheer and summons + Of Freedom's voice is given! + + Glory to God forever! + Beyond the despot's will + The soul of Freedom liveth + Imperishable still. + The words which thou hast uttered + Are of that soul a part, + And the good seed thou hast scattered + Is springing from the heart. + + In the evil days before us, + And the trials yet to come, + In the shadow of the prison, + Or the cruel martyrdom,-- + We will think of thee, O brother! + And thy sainted name shall be + In the blessing of the captive, + And the anthem of the free. + + 1834 + + + + +LINES ON THE DEATH OF S. OLIVER TORREY, + +SECRETARY OF THE BOSTON YOUNG MEN'S ANTI-SLAVERY SOCIETY. + + Gone before us, O our brother, + To the spirit-land! + Vainly look we for another + In thy place to stand. + Who shall offer youth and beauty + On the wasting shrine + Of a stern and lofty duty, + With a faith like thine? + + Oh, thy gentle smile of greeting + Who again shall see? + Who amidst the solemn meeting + Gaze again on thee? + Who when peril gathers o'er us, + Wear so calm a brow? + Who, with evil men before us, + So serene as thou? + + Early hath the spoiler found thee, + Brother of our love! + Autumn's faded earth around thee, + And its storms above! + Evermore that turf lie lightly, + And, with future showers, + O'er thy slumbers fresh and brightly + Blow the summer flowers + + In the locks thy forehead gracing, + Not a silvery streak; + Nor a line of sorrow's tracing + On thy fair young cheek; + Eyes of light and lips of roses, + Such as Hylas wore,-- + Over all that curtain closes, + Which shall rise no more! + + Will the vigil Love is keeping + Round that grave of thine, + Mournfully, like Jazer weeping + Over Sibmah's vine; + Will the pleasant memories, swelling + Gentle hearts, of thee, + In the spirit's distant dwelling + All unheeded be? + + If the spirit ever gazes, + From its journeyings, back; + If the immortal ever traces + O'er its mortal track; + Wilt thou not, O brother, meet us + Sometimes on our way, + And, in hours of sadness, greet us + As a spirit may? + + Peace be with thee, O our brother, + In the spirit-land + Vainly look we for another + In thy place to stand. + Unto Truth and Freedom giving + All thy early powers, + Be thy virtues with the living, + And thy spirit ours! + + 1837. + + + + +TO ------, + +WITH A COPY OF WOOLMAN'S JOURNAL. + +"Get the writings of John Woolman by heart."--Essays of Elia. + + + Maiden! with the fair brown tresses + Shading o'er thy dreamy eye, + Floating on thy thoughtful forehead + Cloud wreaths of its sky. + + Youthful years and maiden beauty, + Joy with them should still abide,-- + Instinct take the place of Duty, + Love, not Reason, guide. + + Ever in the New rejoicing, + Kindly beckoning back the Old, + Turning, with the gift of Midas, + All things into gold. + + And the passing shades of sadness + Wearing even a welcome guise, + As, when some bright lake lies open + To the sunny skies, + + Every wing of bird above it, + Every light cloud floating on, + Glitters like that flashing mirror + In the self-same sun. + + But upon thy youthful forehead + Something like a shadow lies; + And a serious soul is looking + From thy earnest eyes. + + With an early introversion, + Through the forms of outward things, + Seeking for the subtle essence, + And the bidden springs. + + Deeper than the gilded surface + Hath thy wakeful vision seen, + Farther than the narrow present + Have thy journeyings been. + + Thou hast midst Life's empty noises + Heard the solemn steps of Time, + And the low mysterious voices + Of another clime. + + All the mystery of Being + Hath upon thy spirit pressed,-- + Thoughts which, like the Deluge wanderer, + Find no place of rest: + + That which mystic Plato pondered, + That which Zeno heard with awe, + And the star-rapt Zoroaster + In his night-watch saw. + + From the doubt and darkness springing + Of the dim, uncertain Past, + Moving to the dark still shadows + O'er the Future cast, + + Early hath Life's mighty question + Thrilled within thy heart of youth, + With a deep and strong beseeching + What and where is Truth? + + Hollow creed and ceremonial, + Whence the ancient life hath fled, + Idle faith unknown to action, + Dull and cold and dead. + + Oracles, whose wire-worked meanings + Only wake a quiet scorn,-- + Not from these thy seeking spirit + Hath its answer drawn. + + But, like some tired child at even, + On thy mother Nature's breast, + Thou, methinks, art vainly seeking + Truth, and peace, and rest. + + O'er that mother's rugged features + Thou art throwing Fancy's veil, + Light and soft as woven moonbeams, + Beautiful and frail + + O'er the rough chart of Existence, + Rocks of sin and wastes of woe, + Soft airs breathe, and green leaves tremble, + And cool fountains flow. + + And to thee an answer cometh + From the earth and from the sky, + And to thee the hills and waters + And the stars reply. + + But a soul-sufficing answer + Hath no outward origin; + More than Nature's many voices + May be heard within. + + Even as the great Augustine + Questioned earth and sea and sky, + And the dusty tomes of learning + And old poesy. + + But his earnest spirit needed + More than outward Nature taught; + More than blest the poet's vision + Or the sage's thought. + + Only in the gathered silence + Of a calm and waiting frame, + Light and wisdom as from Heaven + To the seeker came. + + Not to ease and aimless quiet + Doth that inward answer tend, + But to works of love and duty + As our being's end; + + Not to idle dreams and trances, + Length of face, and solemn tone, + But to Faith, in daily striving + And performance shown. + + Earnest toil and strong endeavor + Of a spirit which within + Wrestles with familiar evil + And besetting sin; + + And without, with tireless vigor, + Steady heart, and weapon strong, + In the power of truth assailing + Every form of wrong. + + Guided thus, how passing lovely + Is the track of Woolman's feet! + And his brief and simple record + How serenely sweet! + + O'er life's humblest duties throwing + Light the earthling never knew, + Freshening all its dark waste places + As with Hermon's dew. + + All which glows in Pascal's pages, + All which sainted Guion sought, + Or the blue-eyed German Rahel + Half-unconscious taught + + Beauty, such as Goethe pictured, + Such as Shelley dreamed of, shed + Living warmth and starry brightness + Round that poor man's head. + + Not a vain and cold ideal, + Not a poet's dream alone, + But a presence warm and real, + Seen and felt and known. + + When the red right-hand of slaughter + Moulders with the steel it swung, + When the name of seer and poet + Dies on Memory's tongue, + + All bright thoughts and pure shall gather + Round that meek and suffering one,-- + Glorious, like the seer-seen angel + Standing in the sun! + + Take the good man's book and ponder + What its pages say to thee; + Blessed as the hand of healing + May its lesson be. + + If it only serves to strengthen + Yearnings for a higher good, + For the fount of living waters + And diviner food; + + If the pride of human reason + Feels its meek and still rebuke, + Quailing like the eye of Peter + From the Just One's look! + + If with readier ear thou heedest + What the Inward Teacher saith, + Listening with a willing spirit + And a childlike faith,-- + + Thou mayst live to bless the giver, + Who, himself but frail and weak, + Would at least the highest welfare + Of another seek; + + And his gift, though poor and lowly + It may seem to other eyes, + Yet may prove an angel holy + In a pilgrim's guise. + + 1840. + + + + +LEGGETT'S MONUMENT. + +William Leggett, who died in 1839 at the age of thirty-seven, was the +intrepid editor of the New York Evening Post and afterward of The Plain +Dealer. His vigorous assault upon the system of slavery brought down +upon him the enmity of political defenders of the system. + +"Ye build the tombs of the prophets."--Holy Writ. + + + Yes, pile the marble o'er him! It is well + That ye who mocked him in his long stern strife, + And planted in the pathway of his life + The ploughshares of your hatred hot from hell, + Who clamored down the bold reformer when + He pleaded for his captive fellow-men, + Who spurned him in the market-place, and sought + Within thy walls, St. Tammany, to bind + In party chains the free and honest thought, + The angel utterance of an upright mind, + Well is it now that o'er his grave ye raise + The stony tribute of your tardy praise, + For not alone that pile shall tell to Fame + Of the brave heart beneath, but of the builders' shame! + + 1841. + + + + +TO A FRIEND, ON HER RETURN FROM EUROPE. + + How smiled the land of France + Under thy blue eye's glance, + Light-hearted rover + Old walls of chateaux gray, + Towers of an early day, + Which the Three Colors play + Flauntingly over. + + Now midst the brilliant train + Thronging the banks of Seine + Now midst the splendor + Of the wild Alpine range, + Waking with change on change + Thoughts in thy young heart strange, + Lovely, and tender. + + Vales, soft Elysian, + Like those in the vision + Of Mirza, when, dreaming, + He saw the long hollow dell, + Touched by the prophet's spell, + Into an ocean swell + With its isles teeming. + + Cliffs wrapped in snows of years, + Splintering with icy spears + Autumn's blue heaven + Loose rock and frozen slide, + Hung on the mountain-side, + Waiting their hour to glide + Downward, storm-driven! + + Rhine-stream, by castle old, + Baron's and robber's hold, + Peacefully flowing; + Sweeping through vineyards green, + Or where the cliffs are seen + O'er the broad wave between + Grim shadows throwing. + + Or, where St. Peter's dome + Swells o'er eternal Rome, + Vast, dim, and solemn; + Hymns ever chanting low, + Censers swung to and fro, + Sable stoles sweeping slow + Cornice and column! + + Oh, as from each and all + Will there not voices call + Evermore back again? + In the mind's gallery + Wilt thou not always see + Dim phantoms beckon thee + O'er that old track again? + + New forms thy presence haunt, + New voices softly chant, + New faces greet thee! + Pilgrims from many a shrine + Hallowed by poet's line, + At memory's magic sign, + Rising to meet thee. + + And when such visions come + Unto thy olden home, + Will they not waken + Deep thoughts of Him whose hand + Led thee o'er sea and land + Back to the household band + Whence thou wast taken? + + While, at the sunset time, + Swells the cathedral's chime, + Yet, in thy dreaming, + While to thy spirit's eye + Yet the vast mountains lie + Piled in the Switzer's sky, + Icy and gleaming: + + Prompter of silent prayer, + Be the wild picture there + In the mind's chamber, + And, through each coming day + Him who, as staff and stay, + Watched o'er thy wandering way, + Freshly remember. + + So, when the call shall be + Soon or late unto thee, + As to all given, + Still may that picture live, + All its fair forms survive, + And to thy spirit give + Gladness in Heaven! + + 1841 + + + + +LUCY HOOPER. + +Lucy Hooper died at Brooklyn, L. I., on the 1st of 8th mo., 1841, aged +twenty-four years. + + + They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, + That all of thee we loved and cherished + Has with thy summer roses perished; + And left, as its young beauty fled, + An ashen memory in its stead, + The twilight of a parted day + Whose fading light is cold and vain, + The heart's faint echo of a strain + Of low, sweet music passed away. + That true and loving heart, that gift + Of a mind, earnest, clear, profound, + Bestowing, with a glad unthrift, + Its sunny light on all around, + Affinities which only could + Cleave to the pure, the true, and good; + And sympathies which found no rest, + Save with the loveliest and best. + Of them--of thee--remains there naught + But sorrow in the mourner's breast? + A shadow in the land of thought? + No! Even my weak and trembling faith + Can lift for thee the veil which doubt + And human fear have drawn about + The all-awaiting scene of death. + + Even as thou wast I see thee still; + And, save the absence of all ill + And pain and weariness, which here + Summoned the sigh or wrung the tear, + The same as when, two summers back, + Beside our childhood's Merrimac, + I saw thy dark eye wander o'er + Stream, sunny upland, rocky shore, + And heard thy low, soft voice alone + Midst lapse of waters, and the tone + Of pine-leaves by the west-wind blown, + There's not a charm of soul or brow, + Of all we knew and loved in thee, + But lives in holier beauty now, + Baptized in immortality! + Not mine the sad and freezing dream + Of souls that, with their earthly mould, + Cast off the loves and joys of old, + Unbodied, like a pale moonbeam, + As pure, as passionless, and cold; + Nor mine the hope of Indra's son, + Of slumbering in oblivion's rest, + Life's myriads blending into one, + In blank annihilation blest; + Dust-atoms of the infinite, + Sparks scattered from the central light, + And winning back through mortal pain + Their old unconsciousness again. + No! I have friends in Spirit Land, + Not shadows in a shadowy band, + Not others, but themselves are they. + And still I think of them the same + As when the Master's summons came; + Their change,--the holy morn-light breaking + Upon the dream-worn sleeper, waking,-- + A change from twilight into day. + + They 've laid thee midst the household graves, + Where father, brother, sister lie; + Below thee sweep the dark blue waves, + Above thee bends the summer sky. + Thy own loved church in sadness read + Her solemn ritual o'er thy head, + And blessed and hallowed with her prayer + The turf laid lightly o'er thee there. + That church, whose rites and liturgy, + Sublime and old, were truth to thee, + Undoubted to thy bosom taken, + As symbols of a faith unshaken. + Even I, of simpler views, could feel + The beauty of thy trust and zeal; + And, owning not thy creed, could see + How deep a truth it seemed to thee, + And how thy fervent heart had thrown + O'er all, a coloring of its own, + And kindled up, intense and warm, + A life in every rite and form, + As. when on Chebar's banks of old, + The Hebrew's gorgeous vision rolled, + A spirit filled the vast machine, + A life, "within the wheels" was seen. + + Farewell! A little time, and we + Who knew thee well, and loved thee here, + One after one shall follow thee + As pilgrims through the gate of fear, + Which opens on eternity. + Yet shall we cherish not the less + All that is left our hearts meanwhile; + The memory of thy loveliness + Shall round our weary pathway smile, + Like moonlight when the sun has set, + A sweet and tender radiance yet. + Thoughts of thy clear-eyed sense of duty, + Thy generous scorn of all things wrong, + The truth, the strength, the graceful beauty + Which blended in thy song. + All lovely things, by thee beloved, + Shall whisper to our hearts of thee; + These green hills, where thy childhood roved, + Yon river winding to the sea, + The sunset light of autumn eves + Reflecting on the deep, still floods, + Cloud, crimson sky, and trembling leaves + Of rainbow-tinted woods, + These, in our view, shall henceforth take + A tenderer meaning for thy sake; + And all thou lovedst of earth and sky, + Seem sacred to thy memory. + + 1841. + + + + +FOLLEN. ON READING HIS ESSAY ON THE "FUTURE STATE." + +Charles Follen, one of the noblest contributions of Germany to American +citizenship, was at an early age driven from his professorship in the +University of Jena, and compelled to seek shelter from official +prosecution in Switzerland, on account of his liberal political +opinions. He became Professor of Civil Law in the University of Basle. +The governments of Prussia, Austria, and Russia united in demanding his +delivery as a political offender; and, in consequence, he left +Switzerland, and came to the United States. At the time of the formation +of the American Anti-Slavery Society he was a Professor in Harvard +University, honored for his genius, learning, and estimable character. +His love of liberty and hatred of oppression led him to seek an +interview with Garrison and express his sympathy with him. Soon after, +he attended a meeting of the New England Anti-Slavery Society. An able +speech was made by Rev. A. A. Phelps, and a letter of mine addressed to +the Secretary of the Society was read. Whereupon he rose and stated that +his views were in unison with those of the Society, and that after +hearing the speech and the letter, he was ready to join it, and abide +the probable consequences of such an unpopular act. He lost by so doing +his professorship. He was an able member of the Executive Committee of +the American Anti-Slavery Society. He perished in the ill-fated steamer +Lexington, which was burned on its passage from New York, January 13, +1840. The few writings left behind him show him to have been a profound +thinker of rare spiritual insight. + + + Friend of my soul! as with moist eye + I look up from this page of thine, + Is it a dream that thou art nigh, + Thy mild face gazing into mine? + + That presence seems before me now, + A placid heaven of sweet moonrise, + When, dew-like, on the earth below + Descends the quiet of the skies. + + The calm brow through the parted hair, + The gentle lips which knew no guile, + Softening the blue eye's thoughtful care + With the bland beauty of their smile. + + Ah me! at times that last dread scene + Of Frost and Fire and moaning Sea + Will cast its shade of doubt between + The failing eyes of Faith and thee. + + Yet, lingering o'er thy charmed page, + Where through the twilight air of earth, + Alike enthusiast and sage, + Prophet and bard, thou gazest forth, + + Lifting the Future's solemn veil; + The reaching of a mortal hand + To put aside the cold and pale + Cloud-curtains of the Unseen Land; + + Shall these poor elements outlive + The mind whose kingly will, they wrought? + Their gross unconsciousness survive + Thy godlike energy of thought? + + In thoughts which answer to my own, + In words which reach my inward ear, + Like whispers from the void Unknown, + I feel thy living presence here. + + The waves which lull thy body's rest, + The dust thy pilgrim footsteps trod, + Unwasted, through each change, attest + The fixed economy of God. + + Thou livest, Follen! not in vain + Hath thy fine spirit meekly borne + The burthen of Life's cross of pain, + And the thorned crown of suffering worn. + + Oh, while Life's solemn mystery glooms + Around us like a dungeon's wall, + Silent earth's pale and crowded tombs, + Silent the heaven which bends o'er all! + + While day by day our loved ones glide + In spectral silence, hushed and lone, + To the cold shadows which divide + The living from the dread Unknown; + + While even on the closing eye, + And on the lip which moves in vain, + The seals of that stern mystery + Their undiscovered trust retain; + + And only midst the gloom of death, + Its mournful doubts and haunting fears, + Two pale, sweet angels, Hope and Faith, + Smile dimly on us through their tears; + + 'T is something to a heart like mine + To think of thee as living yet; + To feel that such a light as thine + Could not in utter darkness set. + + Less dreary seems the untried way + Since thou hast left thy footprints there, + And beams of mournful beauty play + Round the sad Angel's sable hair. + + Oh! at this hour when half the sky + Is glorious with its evening light, + And fair broad fields of summer lie + Hung o'er with greenness in my sight; + + While through these elm-boughs wet with rain + The sunset's golden walls are seen, + With clover-bloom and yellow grain + And wood-draped hill and stream between; + + I long to know if scenes like this + Are hidden from an angel's eyes; + If earth's familiar loveliness + Haunts not thy heaven's serener skies. + + For sweetly here upon thee grew + The lesson which that beauty gave, + The ideal of the pure and true + In earth and sky and gliding wave. + + And it may be that all which lends + The soul an upward impulse here, + With a diviner beauty blends, + And greets us in a holier sphere. + + Through groves where blighting never fell + The humbler flowers of earth may twine; + And simple draughts-from childhood's well + Blend with the angel-tasted wine. + + But be the prying vision veiled, + And let the seeking lips be dumb, + Where even seraph eyes have failed + Shall mortal blindness seek to come? + + We only know that thou hast gone, + And that the same returnless tide + Which bore thee from us still glides on, + And we who mourn thee with it glide. + + On all thou lookest we shall look, + And to our gaze erelong shall turn + That page of God's mysterious book + We so much wish yet dread to learn. + + With Him, before whose awful power + Thy spirit bent its trembling knee; + Who, in the silent greeting flower, + And forest leaf, looked out on thee, + + We leave thee, with a trust serene, + Which Time, nor Change, nor Death can move, + While with thy childlike faith we lean + On Him whose dearest name is Love! + + 1842. + + + + +TO J. P. + +John Pierpont, the eloquent preacher and poet of Boston. + + + Not as a poor requital of the joy + With which my childhood heard that lay of thine, + Which, like an echo of the song divine + At Bethlehem breathed above the Holy Boy, + Bore to my ear the Airs of Palestine,-- + Not to the poet, but the man I bring + In friendship's fearless trust my offering + How much it lacks I feel, and thou wilt see, + Yet well I know that thou Last deemed with me + Life all too earnest, and its time too short + For dreamy ease and Fancy's graceful sport; + And girded for thy constant strife with wrong, + Like Nehemiah fighting while he wrought + The broken walls of Zion, even thy song + Hath a rude martial tone, a blow in every thought! + + 1843. + + + + +CHALKLEY HALL. + + Chalkley Hall, near Frankford, Pa., was the residence of Thomas + Chalkley, an eminent minister of the Friends' denomination. He was + one of the early settlers of the Colony, and his Journal, which was + published in 1749, presents a quaint but beautiful picture of a + life of unostentatious and simple goodness. He was the master of a + merchant vessel, and, in his visits to the west Indies and Great + Britain, omitted no opportunity to labor for the highest interests + of his fellow-men. During a temporary residence in Philadelphia, in + the summer of 1838, the quiet and beautiful scenery around the + ancient village of Frankford frequently attracted me from the heat + and bustle of the city. I have referred to my youthful acquaintance + with his writings in Snow-Bound. + + + How bland and sweet the greeting of this breeze + To him who flies + From crowded street and red wall's weary gleam, + Till far behind him like a hideous dream + The close dark city lies + Here, while the market murmurs, while men throng + The marble floor + Of Mammon's altar, from the crush and din + Of the world's madness let me gather in + My better thoughts once more. + + Oh, once again revive, while on my ear + The cry of Gain + And low hoarse hum of Traffic die away, + Ye blessed memories of my early day + Like sere grass wet with rain! + + Once more let God's green earth and sunset air + Old feelings waken; + Through weary years of toil and strife and ill, + Oh, let me feel that my good angel still + Hath not his trust forsaken. + + And well do time and place befit my mood + Beneath the arms + Of this embracing wood, a good man made + His home, like Abraham resting in the shade + Of Mamre's lonely palms. + + Here, rich with autumn gifts of countless years, + The virgin soil + Turned from the share he guided, and in rain + And summer sunshine throve the fruits and grain + Which blessed his honest toil. + + Here, from his voyages on the stormy seas, + Weary and worn, + He came to meet his children and to bless + The Giver of all good in thankfulness + And praise for his return. + + And here his neighbors gathered in to greet + Their friend again, + Safe from the wave and the destroying gales, + Which reap untimely green Bermuda's vales, + And vex the Carib main. + + To hear the good man tell of simple truth, + Sown in an hour + Of weakness in some far-off Indian isle, + From the parched bosom of a barren soil, + Raised up in life and power. + + How at those gatherings in Barbadian vales, + A tendering love + Came o'er him, like the gentle rain from heaven, + And words of fitness to his lips were given, + And strength as from above. + + How the sad captive listened to the Word, + Until his chain + Grew lighter, and his wounded spirit felt + The healing balm of consolation melt + Upon its life-long pain + + How the armed warrior sat him down to hear + Of Peace and Truth, + And the proud ruler and his Creole dame, + Jewelled and gorgeous in her beauty came, + And fair and bright-eyed youth. + + Oh, far away beneath New England's sky, + Even when a boy, + Following my plough by Merrimac's green shore, + His simple record I have pondered o'er + With deep and quiet joy. + + And hence this scene, in sunset glory warm,-- + Its woods around, + Its still stream winding on in light and shade, + Its soft, green meadows and its upland glade,-- + To me is holy ground. + + And dearer far than haunts where Genius keeps + His vigils still; + Than that where Avon's son of song is laid, + Or Vaucluse hallowed by its Petrarch's shade, + Or Virgil's laurelled hill. + + To the gray walls of fallen Paraclete, + To Juliet's urn, + Fair Arno and Sorrento's orange-grove, + Where Tasso sang, let young Romance and Love + Like brother pilgrims turn. + + But here a deeper and serener charm + To all is given; + And blessed memories of the faithful dead + O'er wood and vale and meadow-stream have shed + The holy hues of Heaven! + + 1843. + + + + +GONE + + Another hand is beckoning us, + Another call is given; + And glows once more with Angel-steps + The path which reaches Heaven. + + Our young and gentle friend, whose smile + Made brighter summer hours, + Amid the frosts of autumn time + Has left us with the flowers. + + No paling of the cheek of bloom + Forewarned us of decay; + No shadow from the Silent Land + Fell round our sister's way. + + The light of her young life went down, + As sinks behind the hill + The glory of a setting star, + Clear, suddenly, and still. + + As pure and sweet, her fair brow seemed + Eternal as the sky; + And like the brook's low song, her voice,-- + A sound which could not die. + + And half we deemed she needed not + The changing of her sphere, + To give to Heaven a Shining One, + Who walked an Angel here. + + The blessing of her quiet life + Fell on us like the dew; + And good thoughts where her footsteps pressed + Like fairy blossoms grew. + + Sweet promptings unto kindest deeds + Were in her very look; + We read her face, as one who reads + A true and holy book, + + The measure of a blessed hymn, + To which our hearts could move; + The breathing of an inward psalm, + A canticle of love. + + We miss her in the place of prayer, + And by the hearth-fire's light; + We pause beside her door to hear + Once more her sweet "Good-night!" + + There seems a shadow on the day, + Her smile no longer cheers; + A dimness on the stars of night, + Like eyes that look through tears. + + Alone unto our Father's will + One thought hath reconciled; + That He whose love exceedeth ours + Hath taken home His child. + + Fold her, O Father! in Thine arms, + And let her henceforth be + A messenger of love between + Our human hearts and Thee. + + Still let her mild rebuking stand + Between us and the wrong, + And her dear memory serve to make + Our faith in Goodness strong. + + And grant that she who, trembling, here + Distrusted all her powers, + May welcome to her holier home + The well-beloved of ours. + + 1845. + + + + +TO RONGE. + +This was written after reading the powerful and manly protest of +Johannes Ronge against the "pious fraud" of the Bishop of Treves. The +bold movement of the young Catholic priest of Prussian Silesia seemed to +me full of promise to the cause of political as well as religious +liberty in Europe. That it failed was due partly to the faults of the +reformer, but mainly to the disagreement of the Liberals of Germany upon +a matter of dogma, which prevented them from unity of action. Rouge was +born in Silesia in 1813 and died in October, 1887. His autobiography was +translated into English and published in London in 1846. + + + Strike home, strong-hearted man! Down to the root + Of old oppression sink the Saxon steel. + Thy work is to hew down. In God's name then + Put nerve into thy task. Let other men + Plant, as they may, that better tree whose fruit + The wounded bosom of the Church shall heal. + Be thou the image-breaker. Let thy blows + Fall heavy as the Suabian's iron hand, + On crown or crosier, which shall interpose + Between thee and the weal of Fatherland. + Leave creeds to closet idlers. First of all, + Shake thou all German dream-land with the fall + Of that accursed tree, whose evil trunk + Was spared of old by Erfurt's stalwart monk. + Fight not with ghosts and shadows. Let us hear + The snap of chain-links. Let our gladdened ear + Catch the pale prisoner's welcome, as the light + Follows thy axe-stroke, through his cell of night. + Be faithful to both worlds; nor think to feed + Earth's starving millions with the husks of creed. + Servant of Him whose mission high and holy + Was to the wronged, the sorrowing, and the lowly, + Thrust not his Eden promise from our sphere, + Distant and dim beyond the blue sky's span; + Like him of Patmos, see it, now and here, + The New Jerusalem comes down to man + Be warned by Luther's error. Nor like him, + When the roused Teuton dashes from his limb + The rusted chain of ages, help to bind + His hands for whom thou claim'st the freedom of the mind. + + 1846. + + + + +CHANNING. + +The last time I saw Dr. Channing was in the summer of 1841, when, in +company with my English friend, Joseph Sturge, so well known for his +philanthropic labors and liberal political opinions, I visited him in +his summer residence in Rhode Island. In recalling the impressions of +that visit, it can scarcely be necessary to say, that I have no +reference to the peculiar religious opinions of a man whose life, +beautifully and truly manifested above the atmosphere of sect, is now +the world's common legacy. + + + Not vainly did old poets tell, + Nor vainly did old genius paint + God's great and crowning miracle, + The hero and the saint! + + For even in a faithless day + Can we our sainted ones discern; + And feel, while with them on the way, + Our hearts within us burn. + + And thus the common tongue and pen + Which, world-wide, echo Channing's fame, + As one of Heaven's anointed men, + Have sanctified his name. + + In vain shall Rome her portals bar, + And shut from him her saintly prize, + Whom, in the world's great calendar, + All men shall canonize. + + By Narragansett's sunny bay, + Beneath his green embowering wood, + To me it seems but yesterday + Since at his side I stood. + + The slopes lay green with summer rains, + The western wind blew fresh and free, + And glimmered down the orchard lanes + The white surf of the sea. + + With us was one, who, calm and true, + Life's highest purpose understood, + And, like his blessed Master, knew + The joy of doing good. + + Unlearned, unknown to lettered fame, + Yet on the lips of England's poor + And toiling millions dwelt his name, + With blessings evermore. + + Unknown to power or place, yet where + The sun looks o'er the Carib sea, + It blended with the freeman's prayer + And song of jubilee. + + He told of England's sin and wrong, + The ills her suffering children know, + The squalor of the city's throng, + The green field's want and woe. + + O'er Channing's face the tenderness + Of sympathetic sorrow stole, + Like a still shadow, passionless, + The sorrow of the soul. + + But when the generous Briton told + How hearts were answering to his own, + And Freedom's rising murmur rolled + Up to the dull-eared throne, + + I saw, methought, a glad surprise + Thrill through that frail and pain-worn frame, + And, kindling in those deep, calm eyes, + A still and earnest flame. + + His few, brief words were such as move + The human heart,--the Faith-sown seeds + Which ripen in the soil of love + To high heroic deeds. + + No bars of sect or clime were felt, + The Babel strife of tongues had ceased, + And at one common altar knelt + The Quaker and the priest. + + And not in vain: with strength renewed, + And zeal refreshed, and hope less dim, + For that brief meeting, each pursued + The path allotted him. + + How echoes yet each Western hill + And vale with Channing's dying word! + How are the hearts of freemen still + By that great warning stirred. + + The stranger treads his native soil, + And pleads, with zeal unfelt before, + The honest right of British toil, + The claim of England's poor. + + Before him time-wrought barriers fall, + Old fears subside, old hatreds melt, + And, stretching o'er the sea's blue wall, + The Saxon greets the Celt. + + The yeoman on the Scottish lines, + The Sheffield grinder, worn and grim, + The delver in the Cornwall mines, + Look up with hope to him. + + Swart smiters of the glowing steel, + Dark feeders of the forge's flame, + Pale watchers at the loom and wheel, + Repeat his honored name. + + And thus the influence of that hour + Of converse on Rhode Island's strand + Lives in the calm, resistless power + Which moves our fatherland. + + God blesses still the generous thought, + And still the fitting word He speeds + And Truth, at His requiring taught, + He quickens into deeds. + + Where is the victory of the grave? + What dust upon the spirit lies? + God keeps the sacred life he gave,-- + The prophet never dies! + + 1844. + + + + +TO MY FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF HIS SISTER. + +Sophia Sturge, sister of Joseph Sturge, of Birmingham, the President of +the British Complete Suffrage Association, died in the 6th month, 1845. +She was the colleague, counsellor, and ever-ready helpmate of her +brother in all his vast designs of beneficence. The Birmingham Pilot +says of her: "Never, perhaps, were the active and passive virtues of the +human character more harmoniously and beautifully blended than in this +excellent woman." + + + Thine is a grief, the depth of which another + May never know; + Yet, o'er the waters, O my stricken brother! + To thee I go. + + I lean my heart unto thee, sadly folding + Thy hand in mine; + With even the weakness of my soul upholding + The strength of thine. + + I never knew, like thee, the dear departed; + I stood not by + When, in calm trust, the pure and tranquil-hearted + Lay down to die. + + And on thy ears my words of weak condoling + Must vainly fall + The funeral bell which in thy heart is tolling, + Sounds over all! + + I will not mock thee with the poor world's common + And heartless phrase, + Nor wrong the memory of a sainted woman + With idle praise. + + With silence only as their benediction, + God's angels come + Where, in the shadow of a great affliction, + The soul sits dumb! + + Yet, would I say what thy own heart approveth + Our Father's will, + Calling to Him the dear one whom He loveth, + Is mercy still. + + Not upon thee or thine the solemn angel + Hath evil wrought + Her funeral anthem is a glad evangel,-- + The good die not! + + God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly + What He hath given; + They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly + As in His heaven. + + And she is with thee; in thy path of trial + She walketh yet; + Still with the baptism of thy self-denial + Her locks are wet. + + Up, then, my brother! Lo, the fields of harvest + Lie white in view + She lives and loves thee, and the God thou servest + To both is true. + + Thrust in thy sickle! England's toilworn peasants + Thy call abide; + And she thou mourn'st, a pure and holy presence, + Shall glean beside! + 1845. + + + + +DANIEL WHEELER + +Daniel Wheeler, a minister of the Society of Friends, who had labored in +the cause of his Divine Master in Great Britain, Russia, and the islands +of the Pacific, died in New York in the spring of 1840, while on a +religious visit to this country. + + + O Dearly loved! + And worthy of our love! No more + Thy aged form shall rise before + The bushed and waiting worshiper, + In meek obedience utterance giving + To words of truth, so fresh and living, + That, even to the inward sense, + They bore unquestioned evidence + Of an anointed Messenger! + Or, bowing down thy silver hair + In reverent awfulness of prayer, + The world, its time and sense, shut out + The brightness of Faith's holy trance + Gathered upon thy countenance, + As if each lingering cloud of doubt, + The cold, dark shadows resting here + In Time's unluminous atmosphere, + Were lifted by an angel's hand, + And through them on thy spiritual eye + Shone down the blessedness on high, + The glory of the Better Land! + + The oak has fallen! + While, meet for no good work, the vine + May yet its worthless branches twine, + Who knoweth not that with thee fell + A great man in our Israel? + Fallen, while thy loins were girded still, + Thy feet with Zion's dews still wet, + And in thy hand retaining yet + The pilgrim's staff and scallop-shell + Unharmed and safe, where, wild and free, + Across the Neva's cold morass + The breezes from the Frozen Sea + With winter's arrowy keenness pass; + Or where the unwarning tropic gale + Smote to the waves thy tattered sail, + Or where the noon-hour's fervid heat + Against Tahiti's mountains beat; + The same mysterious Hand which gave + Deliverance upon land and wave, + Tempered for thee the blasts which blew + Ladaga's frozen surface o'er, + And blessed for thee the baleful dew + Of evening upon Eimeo's shore, + Beneath this sunny heaven of ours, + Midst our soft airs and opening flowers + Hath given thee a grave! + + His will be done, + Who seeth not as man, whose way + Is not as ours! 'T is well with thee! + Nor anxious doubt nor dark dismay + Disquieted thy closing day, + But, evermore, thy soul could say, + "My Father careth still for me!" + Called from thy hearth and home,--from her, + The last bud on thy household tree, + The last dear one to minister + In duty and in love to thee, + From all which nature holdeth dear, + Feeble with years and worn with pain, + To seek our distant land again, + Bound in the spirit, yet unknowing + The things which should befall thee here, + Whether for labor or for death, + In childlike trust serenely going + To that last trial of thy faith! + Oh, far away, + Where never shines our Northern star + On that dark waste which Balboa saw + From Darien's mountains stretching far, + So strange, heaven-broad, and lone, that there, + With forehead to its damp wind bare, + He bent his mailed knee in awe; + In many an isle whose coral feet + The surges of that ocean beat, + In thy palm shadows, Oahu, + And Honolulu's silver bay, + Amidst Owyhee's hills of blue, + And taro-plains of Tooboonai, + Are gentle hearts, which long shall be + Sad as our own at thought of thee, + Worn sowers of Truth's holy seed, + Whose souls in weariness and need + Were strengthened and refreshed by thine. + For blessed by our Father's hand + Was thy deep love and tender care, + Thy ministry and fervent prayer,-- + Grateful as Eshcol's clustered vine + To Israel in a weary land. + + And they who drew + By thousands round thee, in the hour + Of prayerful waiting, hushed and deep, + That He who bade the islands keep + Silence before Him, might renew + Their strength with His unslumbering power, + They too shall mourn that thou art gone, + That nevermore thy aged lip + Shall soothe the weak, the erring warn, + Of those who first, rejoicing, heard + Through thee the Gospel's glorious word,-- + Seals of thy true apostleship. + And, if the brightest diadem, + Whose gems of glory purely burn + Around the ransomed ones in bliss, + Be evermore reserved for them + Who here, through toil and sorrow, turn + Many to righteousness, + May we not think of thee as wearing + That star-like crown of light, and bearing, + Amidst Heaven's white and blissful band, + Th' unfading palm-branch in thy hand; + And joining with a seraph's tongue + In that new song the elders sung, + Ascribing to its blessed Giver + Thanksgiving, love, and praise forever! + + Farewell! + And though the ways of Zion mourn + When her strong ones are called away, + Who like thyself have calmly borne + The heat and burden of the day, + Yet He who slumbereth not nor sleepeth + His ancient watch around us keepeth; + Still, sent from His creating hand, + New witnesses for Truth shall stand, + New instruments to sound abroad + The Gospel of a risen Lord; + To gather to the fold once more + The desolate and gone astray, + The scattered of a cloudy day, + And Zion's broken walls restore; + And, through the travail and the toil + Of true obedience, minister + Beauty for ashes, and the oil + Of joy for mourning, unto her! + So shall her holy bounds increase + With walls of praise and gates of peace + So shall the Vine, which martyr tears + And blood sustained in other years, + With fresher life be clothed upon; + And to the world in beauty show + Like the rose-plant of Jericho, + And glorious as Lebanon! + + 1847 + + + + +TO FREDRIKA BREMER. + +It is proper to say that these lines are the joint impromptus of my +sister and myself. They are inserted here as an expression of our +admiration of the gifted stranger whom we have since learned to love as +a friend. + + + Seeress of the misty Norland, + Daughter of the Vikings bold, + Welcome to the sunny Vineland, + Which thy fathers sought of old! + + Soft as flow of Siija's waters, + When the moon of summer shines, + Strong as Winter from his mountains + Roaring through the sleeted pines. + + Heart and ear, we long have listened + To thy saga, rune, and song; + As a household joy and presence + We have known and loved thee long. + + By the mansion's marble mantel, + Round the log-walled cabin's hearth, + Thy sweet thoughts and northern fancies + Meet and mingle with our mirth. + + And o'er weary spirits keeping + Sorrow's night-watch, long and chill, + Shine they like thy sun of summer + Over midnight vale and hill. + + We alone to thee are strangers, + Thou our friend and teacher art; + Come, and know us as we know thee; + Let us meet thee heart to heart! + + To our homes and household altars + We, in turn, thy steps would lead, + As thy loving hand has led us + O'er the threshold of the Swede. + + 1849. + + + + +TO AVIS KEENE ON RECEIVING A BASKET OF SEA-MOSSES. + + Thanks for thy gift + Of ocean flowers, + Born where the golden drift + Of the slant sunshine falls + Down the green, tremulous walls + Of water, to the cool, still coral bowers, + Where, under rainbows of perpetual showers, + God's gardens of the deep + His patient angels keep; + Gladdening the dim, strange solitude + With fairest forms and hues, and thus + Forever teaching us + The lesson which the many-colored skies, + The flowers, and leaves, and painted butterflies, + The deer's branched antlers, the gay bird that flings + The tropic sunshine from its golden wings, + The brightness of the human countenance, + Its play of smiles, the magic of a glance, + Forevermore repeat, + In varied tones and sweet, + That beauty, in and of itself, is good. + + O kind and generous friend, o'er whom + The sunset hues of Time are cast, + Painting, upon the overpast + And scattered clouds of noonday sorrow + The promise of a fairer morrow, + An earnest of the better life to come; + The binding of the spirit broken, + The warning to the erring spoken, + The comfort of the sad, + The eye to see, the hand to cull + Of common things the beautiful, + The absent heart made glad + By simple gift or graceful token + Of love it needs as daily food, + All own one Source, and all are good + Hence, tracking sunny cove and reach, + Where spent waves glimmer up the beach, + And toss their gifts of weed and shell + From foamy curve and combing swell, + No unbefitting task was thine + To weave these flowers so soft and fair + In unison with His design + Who loveth beauty everywhere; + And makes in every zone and clime, + In ocean and in upper air, + All things beautiful in their time. + + For not alone in tones of awe and power + He speaks to Inan; + The cloudy horror of the thunder-shower + His rainbows span; + And where the caravan + Winds o'er the desert, leaving, as in air + The crane-flock leaves, no trace of passage there, + He gives the weary eye + The palm-leaf shadow for the hot noon hours, + And on its branches dry + Calls out the acacia's flowers; + And where the dark shaft pierces down + Beneath the mountain roots, + Seen by the miner's lamp alone, + The star-like crystal shoots; + So, where, the winds and waves below, + The coral-branched gardens grow, + His climbing weeds and mosses show, + Like foliage, on each stony bough, + Of varied hues more strangely gay + Than forest leaves in autumn's day;-- + Thus evermore, + On sky, and wave, and shore, + An all-pervading beauty seems to say + God's love and power are one; and they, + Who, like the thunder of a sultry day, + Smite to restore, + And they, who, like the gentle wind, uplift + The petals of the dew-wet flowers, and drift + Their perfume on the air, + Alike may serve Him, each, with their own gift, + Making their lives a prayer! + + 1850 + + + + +THE HILL-TOP + + The burly driver at my side, + We slowly climbed the hill, + Whose summit, in the hot noontide, + Seemed rising, rising still. + At last, our short noon-shadows bid + The top-stone, bare and brown, + From whence, like Gizeh's pyramid, + The rough mass slanted down. + + I felt the cool breath of the North; + Between me and the sun, + O'er deep, still lake, and ridgy earth, + I saw the cloud-shades run. + Before me, stretched for glistening miles, + Lay mountain-girdled Squam; + Like green-winged birds, the leafy isles + Upon its bosom swam. + + And, glimmering through the sun-haze warm, + Far as the eye could roam, + Dark billows of an earthquake storm + Beflecked with clouds like foam, + Their vales in misty shadow deep, + Their rugged peaks in shine, + I saw the mountain ranges sweep + The horizon's northern line. + + There towered Chocorua's peak; and west, + Moosehillock's woods were seem, + With many a nameless slide-scarred crest + And pine-dark gorge between. + Beyond them, like a sun-rimmed cloud, + The great Notch mountains shone, + Watched over by the solemn-browed + And awful face of stone! + + "A good look-off!" the driver spake; + "About this time, last year, + I drove a party to the Lake, + And stopped, at evening, here. + 'T was duskish down below; but all + These hills stood in the sun, + Till, dipped behind yon purple wall, + He left them, one by one. + + "A lady, who, from Thornton hill, + Had held her place outside, + And, as a pleasant woman will, + Had cheered the long, dull ride, + Besought me, with so sweet a smile, + That--though I hate delays-- + I could not choose but rest awhile,-- + (These women have such ways!) + + "On yonder mossy ledge she sat, + Her sketch upon her knees, + A stray brown lock beneath her hat + Unrolling in the breeze; + Her sweet face, in the sunset light + Upraised and glorified,-- + I never saw a prettier sight + In all my mountain ride. + + "As good as fair; it seemed her joy + To comfort and to give; + My poor, sick wife, and cripple boy, + Will bless her while they live!" + The tremor in the driver's tone + His manhood did not shame + "I dare say, sir, you may have known"-- + He named a well-known name. + + Then sank the pyramidal mounds, + The blue lake fled away; + For mountain-scope a parlor's bounds, + A lighted hearth for day! + From lonely years and weary miles + The shadows fell apart; + Kind voices cheered, sweet human smiles + Shone warm into my heart. + + We journeyed on; but earth and sky + Had power to charm no more; + Still dreamed my inward-turning eye + The dream of memory o'er. + Ah! human kindness, human love,-- + To few who seek denied; + Too late we learn to prize above + The whole round world beside! + + 1850 + + + +ELLIOTT. + +Ebenezer Elliott was to the artisans of England what Burns was to the +peasantry of Scotland. His Corn-law Rhymes contributed not a little to +that overwhelming tide of popular opinion and feeling which resulted in +the repeal of the tax on bread. Well has the eloquent author of The +Reforms and Reformers of Great Britain said of him, "Not corn-law +repealers alone, but all Britons who moisten their scanty bread with the +sweat of the brow, are largely indebted to his inspiring lay, for the +mighty bound which the laboring mind of England has taken in our day." + + + Hands off! thou tithe-fat plunderer! play + No trick of priestcraft here! + Back, puny lordling! darest thou lay + A hand on Elliott's bier? + Alive, your rank and pomp, as dust, + Beneath his feet he trod. + + He knew the locust swarm that cursed + The harvest-fields of God. + On these pale lips, the smothered thought + Which England's millions feel, + A fierce and fearful splendor caught, + As from his forge the steel. + Strong-armed as Thor, a shower of fire + His smitten anvil flung; + God's curse, Earth's wrong, dumb Hunger's ire, + He gave them all a tongue! + + Then let the poor man's horny hands + Bear up the mighty dead, + And labor's swart and stalwart bands + Behind as mourners tread. + Leave cant and craft their baptized bounds, + Leave rank its minster floor; + Give England's green and daisied grounds + The poet of the poor! + + Lay down upon his Sheaf's green verge + That brave old heart of oak, + With fitting dirge from sounding forge, + And pall of furnace smoke! + Where whirls the stone its dizzy rounds, + And axe and sledge are swung, + And, timing to their stormy sounds, + His stormy lays are sung. + + There let the peasant's step be heard, + The grinder chant his rhyme, + Nor patron's praise nor dainty word + Befits the man or time. + No soft lament nor dreamer's sigh + For him whose words were bread; + The Runic rhyme and spell whereby + The foodless poor were fed! + + Pile up the tombs of rank and pride, + O England, as thou wilt! + With pomp to nameless worth denied, + Emblazon titled guilt! + No part or lot in these we claim; + But, o'er the sounding wave, + A common right to Elliott's name, + A freehold in his grave! + + 1850 + + + + +ICHABOD + +This poem was the outcome of the surprise and grief and forecast of evil +consequences which I felt on reading the seventh of March speech of +Daniel Webster in support of the "compromise," and the Fugitive Slave +Law. No partisan or personal enmity dictated it. On the contrary my +admiration of the splendid personality and intellectual power of the +great Senator was never stronger than when I laid down his speech, and, +in one of the saddest moments of my life, penned my protest. I saw, as I +wrote, with painful clearness its sure results,--the Slave Power +arrogant and defiant, strengthened and encouraged to carry out its +scheme for the extension of its baleful system, or the dissolution of +the Union, the guaranties of personal liberty in the free States broken +down, and the whole country made the hunting-ground of slave-catchers. +In the horror of such a vision, so soon fearfully fulfilled, if one +spoke at all, he could only speak in tones of stern and sorrowful +rebuke. But death softens all resentments, and the consciousness of a +common inheritance of frailty and weakness modifies the severity of +judgment. Years after, in _The Lost Occasion_ I gave utterance to an +almost universal regret that the great statesman did not live to see the +flag which he loved trampled under the feet of Slavery, and, in view of +this desecration, make his last days glorious in defence of "Liberty and +Union, one and inseparable." + + + So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn + Which once he wore! + The glory from his gray hairs gone + Forevermore! + + Revile him not, the Tempter hath + A snare for all; + And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, + Befit his fall! + + Oh, dumb be passion's stormy rage, + When he who might + Have lighted up and led his age, + Falls back in night. + + Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark + A bright soul driven, + Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark, + From hope and heaven! + + Let not the land once proud of him + Insult him now, + Nor brand with deeper shame his dim, + Dishonored brow. + + But let its humbled sons, instead, + From sea to lake, + A long lament, as for the dead, + In sadness make. + + Of all we loved and honored, naught + Save power remains; + A fallen angel's pride of thought, + Still strong in chains. + + All else is gone; from those great eyes + The soul has fled + When faith is lost, when honor dies, + The man is dead! + + Then, pay the reverence of old days + To his dead fame; + Walk backward, with averted gaze, + And hide the shame! + + 1850 + + + + +THE LOST OCCASION. + + Some die too late and some too soon, + At early morning, heat of noon, + Or the chill evening twilight. Thou, + Whom the rich heavens did so endow + With eyes of power and Jove's own brow, + With all the massive strength that fills + Thy home-horizon's granite hills, + With rarest gifts of heart and head + From manliest stock inherited, + New England's stateliest type of man, + In port and speech Olympian; + + Whom no one met, at first, but took + A second awed and wondering look + (As turned, perchance, the eyes of Greece + On Phidias' unveiled masterpiece); + Whose words in simplest homespun clad, + The Saxon strength of Caedmon's had, + With power reserved at need to reach + The Roman forum's loftiest speech, + Sweet with persuasion, eloquent + In passion, cool in argument, + Or, ponderous, falling on thy foes + As fell the Norse god's hammer blows, + Crushing as if with Talus' flail + Through Error's logic-woven mail, + And failing only when they tried + The adamant of the righteous side,-- + Thou, foiled in aim and hope, bereaved + Of old friends, by the new deceived, + Too soon for us, too soon for thee, + Beside thy lonely Northern sea, + Where long and low the marsh-lands spread, + Laid wearily down thy August head. + + Thou shouldst have lived to feel below + Thy feet Disunion's fierce upthrow; + The late-sprung mine that underlaid + Thy sad concessions vainly made. + Thou shouldst have seen from Sumter's wall + The star-flag of the Union fall, + And armed rebellion pressing on + The broken lines of Washington! + No stronger voice than thine had then + Called out the utmost might of men, + To make the Union's charter free + And strengthen law by liberty. + How had that stern arbitrament + To thy gray age youth's vigor lent, + Shaming ambition's paltry prize + Before thy disillusioned eyes; + Breaking the spell about thee wound + Like the green withes that Samson bound; + Redeeming in one effort grand, + Thyself and thy imperilled land! + Ah, cruel fate, that closed to thee, + O sleeper by the Northern sea, + The gates of opportunity! + God fills the gaps of human need, + Each crisis brings its word and deed. + Wise men and strong we did not lack; + But still, with memory turning back, + In the dark hours we thought of thee, + And thy lone grave beside the sea. + + Above that grave the east winds blow, + And from the marsh-lands drifting slow + The sea-fog comes, with evermore + The wave-wash of a lonely shore, + And sea-bird's melancholy cry, + As Nature fain would typify + The sadness of a closing scene, + The loss of that which should have been. + But, where thy native mountains bare + Their foreheads to diviner air, + Fit emblem of enduring fame, + One lofty summit keeps thy name. + For thee the cosmic forces did + The rearing of that pyramid, + The prescient ages shaping with + Fire, flood, and frost thy monolith. + Sunrise and sunset lay thereon + With hands of light their benison, + The stars of midnight pause to set + Their jewels in its coronet. + And evermore that mountain mass + Seems climbing from the shadowy pass + To light, as if to manifest + Thy nobler self, thy life at best! + + 1880 + + + + +WORDSWORTH, WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF OF HIS MEMOIRS. + + Dear friends, who read the world aright, + And in its common forms discern + A beauty and a harmony + The many never learn! + + Kindred in soul of him who found + In simple flower and leaf and stone + The impulse of the sweetest lays + Our Saxon tongue has known,-- + + Accept this record of a life + As sweet and pure, as calm and good, + As a long day of blandest June + In green field and in wood. + + How welcome to our ears, long pained + By strife of sect and party noise, + The brook-like murmur of his song + Of nature's simple joys! + + The violet' by its mossy stone, + The primrose by the river's brim, + And chance-sown daffodil, have found + Immortal life through him. + + The sunrise on his breezy lake, + The rosy tints his sunset brought, + World-seen, are gladdening all the vales + And mountain-peaks of thought. + + Art builds on sand; the works of pride + And human passion change and fall; + But that which shares the life of God + With Him surviveth all. + + 1851. + + + + +TO ------, LINES WRITTEN AFTER A SUMMER DAY'S EXCURSION. + + Fair Nature's priestesses! to whom, + In hieroglyph of bud and bloom, + Her mysteries are told; + Who, wise in lore of wood and mead, + The seasons' pictured scrolls can read, + In lessons manifold! + + Thanks for the courtesy, and gay + Good-humor, which on Washing Day + Our ill-timed visit bore; + Thanks for your graceful oars, which broke + The morning dreams of Artichoke, + Along his wooded shore! + + Varied as varying Nature's ways, + Sprites of the river, woodland fays, + Or mountain nymphs, ye seem; + Free-limbed Dianas on the green, + Loch Katrine's Ellen, or Undine, + Upon your favorite stream. + + The forms of which the poets told, + The fair benignities of old, + Were doubtless such as you; + What more than Artichoke the rill + Of Helicon? Than Pipe-stave hill + Arcadia's mountain-view? + + No sweeter bowers the bee delayed, + In wild Hymettus' scented shade, + Than those you dwell among; + Snow-flowered azaleas, intertwined + With roses, over banks inclined + With trembling harebells hung! + + A charmed life unknown to death, + Immortal freshness Nature hath; + Her fabled fount and glen + Are now and here: Dodona's shrine + Still murmurs in the wind-swept pine,-- + All is that e'er hath been. + + The Beauty which old Greece or Rome + Sung, painted, wrought, lies close at home; + We need but eye and ear + In all our daily walks to trace + The outlines of incarnate grace, + The hymns of gods to hear! + + 1851 + + + +IN PEACE. + + A track of moonlight on a quiet lake, + Whose small waves on a silver-sanded shore + Whisper of peace, and with the low winds make + Such harmonies as keep the woods awake, + And listening all night long for their sweet sake + A green-waved slope of meadow, hovered o'er + By angel-troops of lilies, swaying light + On viewless stems, with folded wings of white; + A slumberous stretch of mountain-land, far seen + Where the low westering day, with gold and green, + Purple and amber, softly blended, fills + The wooded vales, and melts among the hills; + A vine-fringed river, winding to its rest + On the calm bosom of a stormless sea, + Bearing alike upon its placid breast, + With earthly flowers and heavenly' stars impressed, + The hues of time and of eternity + Such are the pictures which the thought of thee, + O friend, awakeneth,--charming the keen pain + Of thy departure, and our sense of loss + Requiting with the fullness of thy gain. + Lo! on the quiet grave thy life-borne cross, + Dropped only at its side, methinks doth shine, + Of thy beatitude the radiant sign! + No sob of grief, no wild lament be there, + To break the Sabbath of the holy air; + But, in their stead, the silent-breathing prayer + Of hearts still waiting for a rest like thine. + O spirit redeemed! Forgive us, if henceforth, + With sweet and pure similitudes of earth, + We keep thy pleasant memory freshly green, + Of love's inheritance a priceless part, + Which Fancy's self, in reverent awe, is seen + To paint, forgetful of the tricks of art, + With pencil dipped alone in colors of the heart. + + 1851. + + + + +BENEDICITE. + + God's love and peace be with thee, where + Soe'er this soft autumnal air + Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair. + + Whether through city casements comes + Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms, + Or, out among the woodland blooms, + + It freshens o'er thy thoughtful face, + Imparting, in its glad embrace, + Beauty to beauty, grace to grace! + + Fair Nature's book together read, + The old wood-paths that knew our tread, + The maple shadows overhead,-- + + The hills we climbed, the river seen + By gleams along its deep ravine,-- + All keep thy memory fresh and green. + + Where'er I look, where'er I stray, + Thy thought goes with me on my way, + And hence the prayer I breathe to-day; + + O'er lapse of time and change of scene, + The weary waste which lies between + Thyself and me, my heart I lean. + + Thou lack'st not Friendship's spell-word, nor + The half-unconscious power to draw + All hearts to thine by Love's sweet law. + + With these good gifts of God is cast + Thy lot, and many a charm thou hast + To hold the blessed angels fast. + + If, then, a fervent wish for thee + The gracious heavens will heed from me, + What should, dear heart, its burden be? + + The sighing of a shaken reed,-- + What can I more than meekly plead + The greatness of our common need? + + God's love,--unchanging, pure, and true,-- + The Paraclete white-shining through + His peace,--the fall of Hermon's dew! + + With such a prayer, on this sweet day, + As thou mayst hear and I may say, + I greet thee, dearest, far away! + + 1851. + + + + +KOSSUTH + +It can scarcely be necessary to say that there are elements in the +character and passages in the history of the great Hungarian statesman +and orator, which necessarily command the admiration of those, even, who +believe that no political revolution was ever worth the price of human +blood. + + + Type of two mighty continents!--combining + The strength of Europe with the warmth and glow + Of Asian song and prophecy,--the shining + Of Orient splendors over Northern snow! + Who shall receive him? Who, unblushing, speak + Welcome to him, who, while he strove to break + The Austrian yoke from Magyar necks, smote off + At the same blow the fetters of the serf, + Rearing the altar of his Fatherland + On the firm base of freedom, and thereby + Lifting to Heaven a patriot's stainless hand, + Mocked not the God of Justice with a lie! + Who shall be Freedom's mouthpiece? Who shall give + Her welcoming cheer to the great fugitive? + Not he who, all her sacred trusts betraying, + Is scourging back to slavery's hell of pain + The swarthy Kossuths of our land again! + Not he whose utterance now from lips designed + The bugle-march of Liberty to wind, + And call her hosts beneath the breaking light, + The keen reveille of her morn of fight, + Is but the hoarse note of the blood-hound's baying, + The wolf's long howl behind the bondman's flight! + Oh for the tongue of him who lies at rest + In Quincy's shade of patrimonial trees, + Last of the Puritan tribunes and the best, + To lend a voice to Freedom's sympathies, + And hail the coming of the noblest guest + The Old World's wrong has given the New World of the West! + + 1851. + + + + +TO MY OLD SCHOOLMASTER. + +AN EPISTLE NOT AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE + +These lines were addressed to my worthy friend Joshua Coffin, teacher, +historian, and antiquarian. He was one of the twelve persons who with +William Lloyd Garrison formed the first anti-slavery society in New +England. + + + Old friend, kind friend! lightly down + Drop time's snow-flakes on thy crown! + Never be thy shadow less, + Never fail thy cheerfulness; + Care, that kills the cat, may, plough + Wrinkles in the miser's brow, + Deepen envy's spiteful frown, + Draw the mouths of bigots down, + Plague ambition's dream, and sit + Heavy on the hypocrite, + Haunt the rich man's door, and ride + In the gilded coach of pride;-- + Let the fiend pass!--what can he + Find to do with such as thee? + Seldom comes that evil guest + Where the conscience lies at rest, + And brown health and quiet wit + Smiling on the threshold sit. + + I, the urchin unto whom, + In that smoked and dingy room, + Where the district gave thee rule + O'er its ragged winter school, + Thou didst teach the mysteries + Of those weary A B C's,-- + Where, to fill the every pause + Of thy wise and learned saws, + Through the cracked and crazy wall + Came the cradle-rock and squall, + And the goodman's voice, at strife + With his shrill and tipsy wife, + Luring us by stories old, + With a comic unction told, + More than by the eloquence + Of terse birchen arguments + (Doubtful gain, I fear), to look + With complacence on a book!-- + Where the genial pedagogue + Half forgot his rogues to flog, + Citing tale or apologue, + Wise and merry in its drift + As was Phaedrus' twofold gift, + Had the little rebels known it, + Risum et prudentiam monet! + I,--the man of middle years, + In whose sable locks appears + Many a warning fleck of gray,-- + Looking back to that far day, + And thy primal lessons, feel + Grateful smiles my lips unseal, + As, remembering thee, I blend + Olden teacher, present friend, + Wise with antiquarian search, + In the scrolls of State and Church + Named on history's title-page, + Parish-clerk and justice sage; + For the ferule's wholesome awe + Wielding now the sword of law. + + Threshing Time's neglected sheaves, + Gathering up the scattered leaves + Which the wrinkled sibyl cast + Careless from her as she passed,-- + Twofold citizen art thou, + Freeman of the past and now. + He who bore thy name of old + Midway in the heavens did hold + Over Gibeon moon and sun; + Thou hast bidden them backward run; + Of to-day the present ray + Flinging over yesterday! + + Let the busy ones deride + What I deem of right thy pride + Let the fools their treadmills grind, + Look not forward nor behind, + Shuffle in and wriggle out, + Veer with every breeze about, + Turning like a windmill sail, + Or a dog that seeks his tail; + Let them laugh to see thee fast + Tabernacled in the Past, + Working out with eye and lip, + Riddles of old penmanship, + Patient as Belzoni there + Sorting out, with loving care, + Mummies of dead questions stripped + From their sevenfold manuscript. + + Dabbling, in their noisy way, + In the puddles of to-day, + Little know they of that vast + Solemn ocean of the past, + On whose margin, wreck-bespread, + Thou art walking with the dead, + Questioning the stranded years, + Waking smiles, by turns, and tears, + As thou callest up again + Shapes the dust has long o'erlain,-- + Fair-haired woman, bearded man, + Cavalier and Puritan; + In an age whose eager view + Seeks but present things, and new, + Mad for party, sect and gold, + Teaching reverence for the old. + + On that shore, with fowler's tact, + Coolly bagging fact on fact, + Naught amiss to thee can float, + Tale, or song, or anecdote; + Village gossip, centuries old, + Scandals by our grandams told, + What the pilgrim's table spread, + Where he lived, and whom he wed, + Long-drawn bill of wine and beer + For his ordination cheer, + Or the flip that wellnigh made + Glad his funeral cavalcade; + Weary prose, and poet's lines, + Flavored by their age, like wines, + Eulogistic of some quaint, + Doubtful, puritanic saint; + Lays that quickened husking jigs, + Jests that shook grave periwigs, + When the parson had his jokes + And his glass, like other folks; + Sermons that, for mortal hours, + Taxed our fathers' vital powers, + As the long nineteenthlies poured + Downward from the sounding-board, + And, for fire of Pentecost, + Touched their beards December's frost. + + Time is hastening on, and we + What our fathers are shall be,-- + Shadow-shapes of memory! + Joined to that vast multitude + Where the great are but the good, + And the mind of strength shall prove + Weaker than the heart of love; + Pride of graybeard wisdom less + Than the infant's guilelessness, + And his song of sorrow more + Than the crown the Psalmist wore + Who shall then, with pious zeal, + At our moss-grown thresholds kneel, + From a stained and stony page + Reading to a careless age, + With a patient eye like thine, + Prosing tale and limping line, + Names and words the hoary rime + Of the Past has made sublime? + Who shall work for us as well + The antiquarian's miracle? + Who to seeming life recall + Teacher grave and pupil small? + Who shall give to thee and me + Freeholds in futurity? + + Well, whatever lot be mine, + Long and happy days be thine, + Ere thy full and honored age + Dates of time its latest page! + Squire for master, State for school, + Wisely lenient, live and rule; + Over grown-up knave and rogue + Play the watchful pedagogue; + Or, while pleasure smiles on duty, + At the call of youth and beauty, + Speak for them the spell of law + Which shall bar and bolt withdraw, + And the flaming sword remove + From the Paradise of Love. + Still, with undimmed eyesight, pore + Ancient tome and record o'er; + Still thy week-day lyrics croon, + Pitch in church the Sunday tune, + Showing something, in thy part, + Of the old Puritanic art, + Singer after Sternhold's heart + In thy pew, for many a year, + Homilies from Oldbug hear, + Who to wit like that of South, + And the Syrian's golden mouth, + Doth the homely pathos add + Which the pilgrim preachers had; + Breaking, like a child at play, + Gilded idols of the day, + Cant of knave and pomp of fool + Tossing with his ridicule, + Yet, in earnest or in jest, + Ever keeping truth abreast. + And, when thou art called, at last, + To thy townsmen of the past, + Not as stranger shalt thou come; + Thou shalt find thyself at home + With the little and the big, + Woollen cap and periwig, + Madam in her high-laced ruff, + Goody in her home-made stuff,-- + Wise and simple, rich and poor, + Thou hast known them all before! + + 1851 + + + +THE CROSS. + +Richard Dillingham, a young member of the Society of Friends, died in +the Nashville penitentiary, where he was confined for the act of aiding +the escape of fugitive slaves. + + + "The cross, if rightly borne, shall be + No burden, but support to thee;" + So, moved of old time for our sake, + The holy monk of Kempen spake. + + Thou brave and true one! upon whom + Was laid the cross of martyrdom, + How didst thou, in thy generous youth, + Bear witness to this blessed truth! + + Thy cross of suffering and of shame + A staff within thy hands became, + In paths where faith alone could see + The Master's steps supporting thee. + + Thine was the seed-time; God alone + Beholds the end of what is sown; + Beyond our vision, weak and dim, + The harvest-time is hid with Him. + + Yet, unforgotten where it lies, + That seed of generous sacrifice, + Though seeming on the desert cast, + Shall rise with bloom and fruit at last. + + 1852. + + + + +THE HERO. + +The hero of the incident related in this poem was Dr. Samuel Gridley +Howe, the well-known philanthropist, who when a young man volunteered +his aid in the Greek struggle for independence. + + + "Oh for a knight like Bayard, + Without reproach or fear; + My light glove on his casque of steel, + My love-knot on his spear! + + "Oh for the white plume floating + Sad Zutphen's field above,-- + The lion heart in battle, + The woman's heart in love! + + "Oh that man once more were manly, + Woman's pride, and not her scorn: + That once more the pale young mother + Dared to boast 'a man is born'! + + "But, now life's slumberous current + No sun-bowed cascade wakes; + No tall, heroic manhood + The level dulness breaks. + + "Oh for a knight like Bayard, + Without reproach or fear! + My light glove on his casque of steel, + My love-knot on his spear!" + + Then I said, my own heart throbbing + To the time her proud pulse beat, + "Life hath its regal natures yet, + True, tender, brave, and sweet! + + "Smile not, fair unbeliever! + One man, at least, I know, + Who might wear the crest of Bayard + Or Sidney's plume of snow. + + "Once, when over purple mountains + Died away the Grecian sun, + And the far Cyllenian ranges + Paled and darkened, one by one,-- + + "Fell the Turk, a bolt of thunder, + Cleaving all the quiet sky, + And against his sharp steel lightnings + Stood the Suliote but to die. + + "Woe for the weak and halting! + The crescent blazed behind + A curving line of sabres, + Like fire before the wind! + + "Last to fly, and first to rally, + Rode he of whom I speak, + When, groaning in his bridle-path, + Sank down a wounded Greek. + + "With the rich Albanian costume + Wet with many a ghastly stain, + Gazing on earth and sky as one + Who might not gaze again. + + "He looked forward to the mountains, + Back on foes that never spare, + Then flung him from his saddle, + And placed the stranger there. + + "'Allah! hu!' Through flashing sabres, + Through a stormy hail of lead, + The good Thessalian charger + Up the slopes of olives sped. + + "Hot spurred the turbaned riders; + He almost felt their breath, + Where a mountain stream rolled darkly down + Between the hills and death. + + "One brave and manful struggle,-- + He gained the solid land, + And the cover of the mountains, + And the carbines of his band!" + + "It was very great and noble," + Said the moist-eyed listener then, + "But one brave deed makes no hero; + Tell me what he since hath been!" + + "Still a brave and generous manhood, + Still an honor without stain, + In the prison of the Kaiser, + By the barricades of Seine. + + "But dream not helm and harness + The sign of valor true; + Peace hath higher tests of manhood + Than battle ever knew. + + "Wouldst know him now? Behold him, + The Cadmus of the blind, + Giving the dumb lip language, + The idiot-clay a mind. + + "Walking his round of duty + Serenely day by day, + With the strong man's hand of labor + And childhood's heart of play. + + "True as the knights of story, + Sir Lancelot and his peers, + Brave in his calm endurance + As they in tilt of spears. + + "As waves in stillest waters, + As stars in noonday skies, + All that wakes to noble action + In his noon of calmness lies. + + "Wherever outraged Nature + Asks word or action brave, + Wherever struggles labor, + Wherever groans a slave,-- + + "Wherever rise the peoples, + Wherever sinks a throne, + The throbbing heart of Freedom finds + An answer in his own. + + "Knight of a better era, + Without reproach or fear! + Said I not well that Bayards + And Sidneys still are here?" + + 1853. + + + + +RANTOUL. + +No more fitting inscription could be placed on the tombstone of Robert +Rantoul than this: "He died at his post in Congress, and his last words +were a protest in the name of Democracy against the Fugitive-Slave Law." + + + One day, along the electric wire + His manly word for Freedom sped; + We came next morn: that tongue of fire + Said only, "He who spake is dead!" + + Dead! while his voice was living yet, + In echoes round the pillared dome! + Dead! while his blotted page lay wet + With themes of state and loves of home! + + Dead! in that crowning grace of time, + That triumph of life's zenith hour! + Dead! while we watched his manhood's prime + Break from the slow bud into flower! + + Dead! he so great, and strong, and wise, + While the mean thousands yet drew breath; + How deepened, through that dread surprise, + The mystery and the awe of death! + + From the high place whereon our votes + Had borne him, clear, calm, earnest, fell + His first words, like the prelude notes + Of some great anthem yet to swell. + + We seemed to see our flag unfurled, + Our champion waiting in his place + For the last battle of the world, + The Armageddon of the race. + + Through him we hoped to speak the word + Which wins the freedom of a land; + And lift, for human right, the sword + Which dropped from Hampden's dying hand. + + For he had sat at Sidney's feet, + And walked with Pym and Vane apart; + And, through the centuries, felt the beat + Of Freedom's march in Cromwell's heart. + + He knew the paths the worthies held, + Where England's best and wisest trod; + And, lingering, drank the springs that welled + Beneath the touch of Milton's rod. + + No wild enthusiast of the right, + Self-poised and clear, he showed alway + The coolness of his northern night, + The ripe repose of autumn's day. + + His steps were slow, yet forward still + He pressed where others paused or failed; + The calm star clomb with constant will, + The restless meteor flashed and paled. + + Skilled in its subtlest wile, he knew + And owned the higher ends of Law; + Still rose majestic on his view + The awful Shape the schoolman saw. + + Her home the heart of God; her voice + The choral harmonies whereby + The stars, through all their spheres, rejoice, + The rhythmic rule of earth and sky. + + We saw his great powers misapplied + To poor ambitions; yet, through all, + We saw him take the weaker side, + And right the wronged, and free the thrall. + + Now, looking o'er the frozen North, + For one like him in word and act, + To call her old, free spirit forth, + And give her faith the life of fact,-- + + To break her party bonds of shame, + And labor with the zeal of him + To make the Democratic name + Of Liberty the synonyme,-- + + We sweep the land from hill to strand, + We seek the strong, the wise, the brave, + And, sad of heart, return to stand + In silence by a new-made grave! + + There, where his breezy hills of home + Look out upon his sail-white seas, + The sounds of winds and waters come, + And shape themselves to words like these. + + "Why, murmuring, mourn that he, whose power + Was lent to Party over-long, + Heard the still whisper at the hour + He set his foot on Party wrong? + + "The human life that closed so well + No lapse of folly now can stain + The lips whence Freedom's protest fell + No meaner thought can now profane. + + "Mightier than living voice his grave + That lofty protest utters o'er; + Through roaring wind and smiting wave + It speaks his hate of wrong once more. + + "Men of the North! your weak regret + Is wasted here; arise and pay + To freedom and to him your debt, + By following where he led the way!" + + 1853. + + + + +WILLIAM FORSTER. + +William Forster, of Norwich, England, died in East Tennessee, in the 1st +month, 1854, while engaged in presenting to the governors of the States +of this Union the address of his religious society on the evils of +slavery. He was the relative and coadjutor of the Buxtons, Gurneys, and +Frys; and his whole life, extending al-most to threescore and ten years, +was a pore and beautiful example of Christian benevolence. He had +travelled over Europe, and visited most of its sovereigns, to plead +against the slave-trade and slavery; and had twice before made visits to +this country, under impressions of religious duty. He was the father of +the Right Hon. William Edward Forster. He visited my father's house in +Haverhill during his first tour in the United States. + + + The years are many since his hand + Was laid upon my head, + Too weak and young to understand + The serious words he said. + + Yet often now the good man's look + Before me seems to swim, + As if some inward feeling took + The outward guise of him. + + As if, in passion's heated war, + Or near temptation's charm, + Through him the low-voiced monitor + Forewarned me of the harm. + + Stranger and pilgrim! from that day + Of meeting, first and last, + Wherever Duty's pathway lay, + His reverent steps have passed. + + The poor to feed, the lost to seek, + To proffer life to death, + Hope to the erring,--to the weak + The strength of his own faith. + + To plead the captive's right; remove + The sting of hate from Law; + And soften in the fire of love + The hardened steel of War. + + He walked the dark world, in the mild, + Still guidance of the Light; + In tearful tenderness a child, + A strong man in the right. + + From what great perils, on his way, + He found, in prayer, release; + Through what abysmal shadows lay + His pathway unto peace, + + God knoweth: we could only see + The tranquil strength he gained; + The bondage lost in liberty, + The fear in love unfeigned. + + And I,--my youthful fancies grown + The habit of the man, + Whose field of life by angels sown + The wilding vines o'erran,-- + + Low bowed in silent gratitude, + My manhood's heart enjoys + That reverence for the pure and good + Which blessed the dreaming boy's. + + Still shines the light of holy lives + Like star-beams over doubt; + Each sainted memory, Christlike, drives + Some dark possession out. + + O friend! O brother I not in vain + Thy life so calm and true, + The silver dropping of the rain, + The fall of summer dew! + + How many burdened hearts have prayed + Their lives like thine might be + But more shall pray henceforth for aid + To lay them down like thee. + + With weary hand, yet steadfast will, + In old age as in youth, + Thy Master found thee sowing still + The good seed of His truth. + + As on thy task-field closed the day + In golden-skied decline, + His angel met thee on the way, + And lent his arm to thine. + + Thy latest care for man,--thy last + Of earthly thought a prayer,-- + Oh, who thy mantle, backward cast, + Is worthy now to wear? + + Methinks the mound which marks thy bed + Might bless our land and save, + As rose, of old, to life the dead + Who touched the prophet's grave + + 1854. + + + + +TO CHARLES SUMNER. + + If I have seemed more prompt to censure wrong + Than praise the right; if seldom to thine ear + My voice hath mingled with the exultant cheer + Borne upon all our Northern winds along; + If I have failed to join the fickle throng + In wide-eyed wonder, that thou standest strong + In victory, surprised in thee to find + Brougham's scathing power with Canning's grace combined; + That he, for whom the ninefold Muses sang, + From their twined arms a giant athlete sprang, + Barbing the arrows of his native tongue + With the spent shafts Latona's archer flung, + To smite the Python of our land and time, + Fell as the monster born of Crissa's slime, + Like the blind bard who in Castalian springs + Tempered the steel that clove the crest of kings, + And on the shrine of England's freedom laid + The gifts of Cumve and of Delphi's' shade,-- + Small need hast thou of words of praise from me. + Thou knowest my heart, dear friend, and well canst guess + That, even though silent, I have not the less + Rejoiced to see thy actual life agree + With the large future which I shaped for thee, + When, years ago, beside the summer sea, + White in the moon, we saw the long waves fall + Baffled and broken from the rocky wall, + That, to the menace of the brawling flood, + Opposed alone its massive quietude, + Calm as a fate; with not a leaf nor vine + Nor birch-spray trembling in the still moonshine, + Crowning it like God's peace. I sometimes think + That night-scene by the sea prophetical, + (For Nature speaks in symbols and in signs, + And through her pictures human fate divines), + That rock, wherefrom we saw the billows sink + In murmuring rout, uprising clear and tall + In the white light of heaven, the type of one + Who, momently by Error's host assailed, + Stands strong as Truth, in greaves of granite mailed; + And, tranquil-fronted, listening over all + The tumult, hears the angels say, Well done! + + 1854. + + + + +BURNS, ON RECEIVING A SPRIG OF HEATHER IN BLOSSOM. + + No more these simple flowers belong + To Scottish maid and lover; + Sown in the common soil of song, + They bloom the wide world over. + + In smiles and tears, in sun and showers, + The minstrel and the heather, + The deathless singer and the flowers + He sang of live together. + + Wild heather-bells and Robert Burns + The moorland flower and peasant! + How, at their mention, memory turns + Her pages old and pleasant! + + The gray sky wears again its gold + And purple of adorning, + And manhood's noonday shadows hold + The dews of boyhood's morning. + + The dews that washed the dust and soil + From off the wings of pleasure, + The sky, that flecked the ground of toil + With golden threads of leisure. + + I call to mind the summer day, + The early harvest mowing, + The sky with sun and clouds at play, + And flowers with breezes blowing. + + I hear the blackbird in the corn, + The locust in the haying; + And, like the fabled hunter's horn, + Old tunes my heart is playing. + + How oft that day, with fond delay, + I sought the maple's shadow, + And sang with Burns the hours away, + Forgetful of the meadow. + + Bees hummed, birds twittered, overhead + I heard the squirrels leaping, + The good dog listened while I read, + And wagged his tail in keeping. + + I watched him while in sportive mood + I read "_The Twa Dogs_" story, + And half believed he understood + The poet's allegory. + + Sweet day, sweet songs! The golden hours + Grew brighter for that singing, + From brook and bird and meadow flowers + A dearer welcome bringing. + + New light on home-seen Nature beamed, + New glory over Woman; + And daily life and duty seemed + No longer poor and common. + + I woke to find the simple truth + Of fact and feeling better + Than all the dreams that held my youth + A still repining debtor, + + That Nature gives her handmaid, Art, + The themes of sweet discoursing; + The tender idyls of the heart + In every tongue rehearsing. + + Why dream of lands of gold and pearl, + Of loving knight and lady, + When farmer boy and barefoot girl + Were wandering there already? + + I saw through all familiar things + The romance underlying; + The joys and griefs that plume the wings + Of Fancy skyward flying. + + I saw the same blithe day return, + The same sweet fall of even, + That rose on wooded Craigie-burn, + And sank on crystal Devon. + + I matched with Scotland's heathery hills + The sweetbrier and the clover; + With Ayr and Doon, my native rills, + Their wood-hymns chanting over. + + O'er rank and pomp, as he had seen, + I saw the Man uprising; + No longer common or unclean, + The child of God's baptizing! + + With clearer eyes I saw the worth + Of life among the lowly; + The Bible at his Cotter's hearth + Had made my own more holy. + + And if at times an evil strain, + To lawless love appealing, + Broke in upon the sweet refrain + Of pure and healthful feeling, + + It died upon the eye and ear, + No inward answer gaining; + No heart had I to see or hear + The discord and the staining. + + Let those who never erred forget + His worth, in vain bewailings; + Sweet Soul of Song! I own my debt + Uncancelled by his failings! + + Lament who will the ribald line + Which tells his lapse from duty, + How kissed the maddening lips of wine + Or wanton ones of beauty; + + But think, while falls that shade between + The erring one and Heaven, + That he who loved like Magdalen, + Like her may be forgiven. + + Not his the song whose thunderous chime + Eternal echoes render; + The mournful Tuscan's haunted rhyme, + And Milton's starry splendor! + + But who his human heart has laid + To Nature's bosom nearer? + Who sweetened toil like him, or paid + To love a tribute dearer? + + Through all his tuneful art, how strong + The human feeling gushes + The very moonlight of his song + Is warm with smiles and blushes! + + Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, + So "Bonnie Doon" but tarry; + Blot out the Epic's stately rhyme, + But spare his Highland Mary! + + 1854. + + + + +TO GEORGE B. CHEEVER + + So spake Esaias: so, in words of flame, + Tekoa's prophet-herdsman smote with blame + The traffickers in men, and put to shame, + All earth and heaven before, + The sacerdotal robbers of the poor. + + All the dread Scripture lives for thee again, + To smite like lightning on the hands profane + Lifted to bless the slave-whip and the chain. + Once more the old Hebrew tongue + Bends with the shafts of God a bow new-strung! + + Take up the mantle which the prophets wore; + Warn with their warnings, show the Christ once more + Bound, scourged, and crucified in His blameless poor; + And shake above our land + The unquenched bolts that blazed in Hosea's hand! + + Not vainly shalt thou cast upon our years + The solemn burdens of the Orient seers, + And smite with truth a guilty nation's ears. + Mightier was Luther's word + Than Seckingen's mailed arm or Hutton's sword! + + 1858. + + + + +TO JAMES T. FIELDS + +ON A BLANK LEAF OF "POEMS PRINTED, NOT PUBLISHED." + + Well thought! who would not rather hear + The songs to Love and Friendship sung + Than those which move the stranger's tongue, + And feed his unselected ear? + + Our social joys are more than fame; + Life withers in the public look. + Why mount the pillory of a book, + Or barter comfort for a name? + + Who in a house of glass would dwell, + With curious eyes at every pane? + To ring him in and out again, + Who wants the public crier's bell? + + To see the angel in one's way, + Who wants to play the ass's part,-- + Bear on his back the wizard Art, + And in his service speak or bray? + + And who his manly locks would shave, + And quench the eyes of common sense, + To share the noisy recompense + That mocked the shorn and blinded slave? + + The heart has needs beyond the head, + And, starving in the plenitude + Of strange gifts, craves its common food,-- + Our human nature's daily bread. + + We are but men: no gods are we, + To sit in mid-heaven, cold and bleak, + Each separate, on his painful peak, + Thin-cloaked in self-complacency. + + Better his lot whose axe is swung + In Wartburg woods, or that poor girl's + Who by the him her spindle whirls + And sings the songs that Luther sung, + + Than his who, old, and cold, and vain, + At Weimar sat, a demigod, + And bowed with Jove's imperial nod + His votaries in and out again! + + Ply, Vanity, thy winged feet! + Ambition, hew thy rocky stair! + Who envies him who feeds on air + The icy splendor of his seat? + + I see your Alps, above me, cut + The dark, cold sky; and dim and lone + I see ye sitting,--stone on stone,-- + With human senses dulled and shut. + + I could not reach you, if I would, + Nor sit among your cloudy shapes; + And (spare the fable of the grapes + And fox) I would not if I could. + + Keep to your lofty pedestals! + The safer plain below I choose + Who never wins can rarely lose, + Who never climbs as rarely falls. + + Let such as love the eagle's scream + Divide with him his home of ice + For me shall gentler notes suffice,-- + The valley-song of bird and stream; + + The pastoral bleat, the drone of bees, + The flail-beat chiming far away, + The cattle-low, at shut of day, + The voice of God in leaf and breeze; + + Then lend thy hand, my wiser friend, + And help me to the vales below, + (In truth, I have not far to go,) + Where sweet with flowers the fields extend. + + 1858. + + + + +THE MEMORY OF BURNS. + +Read at the Boston celebration of the hundredth anniversary of the birth +of Robert Burns, 25th 1st mo., 1859. In my absence these lines were read +by Ralph Waldo Emerson. + + + How sweetly come the holy psalms + From saints and martyrs down, + The waving of triumphal palms + Above the thorny crown + The choral praise, the chanted prayers + From harps by angels strung, + The hunted Cameron's mountain airs, + The hymns that Luther sung! + + Yet, jarring not the heavenly notes, + The sounds of earth are heard, + As through the open minster floats + The song of breeze and bird + Not less the wonder of the sky + That daisies bloom below; + The brook sings on, though loud and high + The cloudy organs blow! + + And, if the tender ear be jarred + That, haply, hears by turns + The saintly harp of Olney's bard, + The pastoral pipe of Burns, + No discord mars His perfect plan + Who gave them both a tongue; + For he who sings the love of man + The love of God hath sung! + + To-day be every fault forgiven + Of him in whom we joy + We take, with thanks, the gold of Heaven + And leave the earth's alloy. + Be ours his music as of spring, + His sweetness as of flowers, + The songs the bard himself might sing + In holier ears than ours. + + Sweet airs of love and home, the hum + Of household melodies, + Come singing, as the robins come + To sing in door-yard trees. + And, heart to heart, two nations lean, + No rival wreaths to twine, + But blending in eternal green + The holly and the pine! + + + + +IN REMEMBRANCE OF JOSEPH STURGE. + + In the fair land o'erwatched by Ischia's mountains, + Across the charmed bay + Whose blue waves keep with Capri's silver fountains + Perpetual holiday, + + A king lies dead, his wafer duly eaten, + His gold-bought masses given; + And Rome's great altar smokes with gums to sweeten + Her foulest gift to Heaven. + + And while all Naples thrills with mute thanksgiving, + The court of England's queen + For the dead monster so abhorred while living + In mourning garb is seen. + + With a true sorrow God rebukes that feigning; + By lone Edgbaston's side + Stands a great city in the sky's sad raining, + Bareheaded and wet-eyed! + + Silent for once the restless hive of labor, + Save the low funeral tread, + Or voice of craftsman whispering to his neighbor + The good deeds of the dead. + + For him no minster's chant of the immortals + Rose from the lips of sin; + No mitred priest swung back the heavenly portals + To let the white soul in. + + But Age and Sickness framed their tearful faces + In the low hovel's door, + And prayers went up from all the dark by-places + And Ghettos of the poor. + + The pallid toiler and the negro chattel, + The vagrant of the street, + The human dice wherewith in games of battle + The lords of earth compete, + + Touched with a grief that needs no outward draping, + All swelled the long lament, + Of grateful hearts, instead of marble, shaping + His viewless monument! + + For never yet, with ritual pomp and splendor, + In the long heretofore, + A heart more loyal, warm, and true, and tender, + Has England's turf closed o'er. + + And if there fell from out her grand old steeples + No crash of brazen wail, + The murmurous woe of kindreds, tongues, and peoples + Swept in on every gale. + + It came from Holstein's birchen-belted meadows, + And from the tropic calms + Of Indian islands in the sunlit shadows + Of Occidental palms; + + From the locked roadsteads of the Bothniaii peasants, + And harbors of the Finn, + Where war's worn victims saw his gentle presence + Come sailing, Christ-like, in, + + To seek the lost, to build the old waste places, + To link the hostile shores + Of severing seas, and sow with England's daisies + The moss of Finland's moors. + + Thanks for the good man's beautiful example, + Who in the vilest saw + Some sacred crypt or altar of a temple + Still vocal with God's law; + + And heard with tender ear the spirit sighing + As from its prison cell, + Praying for pity, like the mournful crying + Of Jonah out of hell. + + Not his the golden pen's or lip's persuasion, + But a fine sense of right, + And Truth's directness, meeting each occasion + Straight as a line of light. + + His faith and works, like streams that intermingle, + In the same channel ran + The crystal clearness of an eye kept single + Shamed all the frauds of man. + + The very gentlest of all human natures + He joined to courage strong, + And love outreaching unto all God's creatures + With sturdy hate of wrong. + + Tender as woman, manliness and meekness + In him were so allied + That they who judged him by his strength or weakness + Saw but a single side. + + Men failed, betrayed him, but his zeal seemed nourished + By failure and by fall; + Still a large faith in human-kind he cherished, + And in God's love for all. + + And now he rests: his greatness and his sweetness + No more shall seem at strife, + And death has moulded into calm completeness + The statue of his life. + + Where the dews glisten and the songbirds warble, + His dust to dust is laid, + In Nature's keeping, with no pomp of marble + To shame his modest shade. + + The forges glow, the hammers all are ringing; + Beneath its smoky vale, + Hard by, the city of his love is swinging + Its clamorous iron flail. + + + But round his grave are quietude and beauty, + And the sweet heaven above,-- + The fitting symbols of a life of duty + Transfigured into love! + + 1859. + + + + +BROWN OF OSSAWATOMIE + + John Brown of Ossawatomie spake on his dying day: + "I will not have to shrive my soul a priest in Slavery's pay. + But let some poor slave-mother whom I have striven to free, + With her children, from the gallows-stair put up a prayer for me!" + + John Brown of Ossawatomie, they led him out to die; + And lo! a poor slave-mother with her little child pressed nigh. + Then the bold, blue eye grew tender, and the old harsh face grew mild, + As he stooped between the jeering ranks and kissed the negro's child. + + The shadows of his stormy life that moment fell apart; + And they who blamed the bloody hand forgave the loving heart. + That kiss from all its guilty means redeemed the good intent, + And round the grisly fighter's hair the martyr's aureole bent! + + Perish with him the folly that seeks through evil good + Long live the generous purpose unstained with human blood! + Not the raid of midnight terror, but the thought which underlies; + Not the borderer's pride of daring, but the Christian's sacrifice. + + Nevermore may yon Blue Ridges the Northern rifle hear, + Nor see the light of blazing homes flash on the negro's spear. + But let the free-winged angel Truth their guarded passes scale, + To teach that right is more than might, and justice more than mail! + + So vainly shall Virginia set her battle in array; + In vain her trampling squadrons knead the winter snow with clay. + She may strike the pouncing eagle, but she dares not harm the dove; + And every gate she bars to Hate shall open wide to Love! + + 1859. + + + + +NAPLES + +INSCRIBED TO ROBERT C. WATERSTON, OF BOSTON. + +Helen Waterston died at Naples in her eighteenth year, and lies buried +in the Protestant cemetery there. The stone over her grave bears the +lines, + + Fold her, O Father, in Thine arms, + And let her henceforth be + A messenger of love between + Our human hearts and Thee. + + + I give thee joy!--I know to thee + The dearest spot on earth must be + Where sleeps thy loved one by the summer sea; + + + Where, near her sweetest poet's tomb, + The land of Virgil gave thee room + To lay thy flower with her perpetual bloom. + + I know that when the sky shut down + Behind thee on the gleaming town, + On Baiae's baths and Posilippo's crown; + + And, through thy tears, the mocking day + Burned Ischia's mountain lines away, + And Capri melted in its sunny bay; + + Through thy great farewell sorrow shot + The sharp pang of a bitter thought + That slaves must tread around that holy spot. + + Thou knewest not the land was blest + In giving thy beloved rest, + Holding the fond hope closer to her breast, + + That every sweet and saintly grave + Was freedom's prophecy, and gave + The pledge of Heaven to sanctify and save. + + That pledge is answered. To thy ear + The unchained city sends its cheer, + And, tuned to joy, the muffled bells of fear + + Ring Victor in. The land sits free + And happy by the summer sea, + And Bourbon Naples now is Italy! + + She smiles above her broken chain + The languid smile that follows pain, + Stretching her cramped limbs to the sun again. + + Oh, joy for all, who hear her call + From gray Camaldoli's convent-wall + And Elmo's towers to freedom's carnival! + + A new life breathes among her vines + And olives, like the breath of pines + Blown downward from the breezy Apennines. + + Lean, O my friend, to meet that breath, + Rejoice as one who witnesseth + Beauty from ashes rise, and life from death! + + Thy sorrow shall no more be pain, + Its tears shall fall in sunlit rain, + Writing the grave with flowers: "Arisen again!" + + 1860. + + + + +A MEMORIAL + +Moses Austin Cartland, a dear friend and relation, who led a faithful +life as a teacher and died in the summer of 1863. + + + Oh, thicker, deeper, darker growing, + The solemn vista to the tomb + Must know henceforth another shadow, + And give another cypress room. + + In love surpassing that of brothers, + We walked, O friend, from childhood's day; + And, looking back o'er fifty summers, + Our footprints track a common way. + + One in our faith, and one our longing + To make the world within our reach + Somewhat the better for our living, + And gladder for our human speech. + + Thou heard'st with me the far-off voices, + The old beguiling song of fame, + But life to thee was warm and present, + And love was better than a name. + + To homely joys and loves and friendships + Thy genial nature fondly clung; + And so the shadow on the dial + Ran back and left thee always young. + + And who could blame the generous weakness + Which, only to thyself unjust, + So overprized the worth of others, + And dwarfed thy own with self-distrust? + + All hearts grew warmer in the presence + Of one who, seeking not his own, + Gave freely for the love of giving, + Nor reaped for self the harvest sown. + + Thy greeting smile was pledge and prelude + Of generous deeds and kindly words; + In thy large heart were fair guest-chambers, + Open to sunrise and the birds; + + The task was thine to mould and fashion + Life's plastic newness into grace + To make the boyish heart heroic, + And light with thought the maiden's face. + + O'er all the land, in town and prairie, + With bended heads of mourning, stand + The living forms that owe their beauty + And fitness to thy shaping hand. + + Thy call has come in ripened manhood, + The noonday calm of heart and mind, + While I, who dreamed of thy remaining + To mourn me, linger still behind, + + Live on, to own, with self-upbraiding, + A debt of love still due from me,-- + The vain remembrance of occasions, + Forever lost, of serving thee. + + It was not mine among thy kindred + To join the silent funeral prayers, + But all that long sad day of summer + My tears of mourning dropped with theirs. + + All day the sea-waves sobbed with sorrow, + The birds forgot their merry trills + All day I heard the pines lamenting + With thine upon thy homestead hills. + + Green be those hillside pines forever, + And green the meadowy lowlands be, + And green the old memorial beeches, + Name-carven in the woods of Lee. + + Still let them greet thy life companions + Who thither turn their pilgrim feet, + In every mossy line recalling + A tender memory sadly sweet. + + O friend! if thought and sense avail not + To know thee henceforth as thou art, + That all is well with thee forever + I trust the instincts of my heart. + + Thine be the quiet habitations, + Thine the green pastures, blossom-sown, + And smiles of saintly recognition, + As sweet and tender as thy own. + + Thou com'st not from the hush and shadow + To meet us, but to thee we come, + With thee we never can be strangers, + And where thou art must still be home. + + 1863. + + + + +BRYANT ON HIS BIRTHDAY + +Mr. Bryant's seventieth birthday, November 3, 1864, was celebrated by a +festival to which these verses were sent. + + + We praise not now the poet's art, + The rounded beauty of his song; + Who weighs him from his life apart + Must do his nobler nature wrong. + + Not for the eye, familiar grown + With charms to common sight denied, + The marvellous gift he shares alone + With him who walked on Rydal-side; + + Not for rapt hymn nor woodland lay, + Too grave for smiles, too sweet for tears; + We speak his praise who wears to-day + The glory of his seventy years. + + When Peace brings Freedom in her train, + Let happy lips his songs rehearse; + His life is now his noblest strain, + His manhood better than his verse! + + Thank God! his hand on Nature's keys + Its cunning keeps at life's full span; + But, dimmed and dwarfed, in times like these, + The poet seems beside the man! + + So be it! let the garlands die, + The singer's wreath, the painter's meed, + Let our names perish, if thereby + Our country may be saved and freed! + + 1864. + + + + +THOMAS STARR KING + +Published originally as a prelude to the posthumous volume of selections +edited by Richard Frothingham. + + + The great work laid upon his twoscore years + Is done, and well done. If we drop our tears, + Who loved him as few men were ever loved, + We mourn no blighted hope nor broken plan + With him whose life stands rounded and approved + In the full growth and stature of a man. + Mingle, O bells, along the Western slope, + With your deep toll a sound of faith and hope! + Wave cheerily still, O banner, half-way down, + From thousand-masted bay and steepled town! + Let the strong organ with its loftiest swell + Lift the proud sorrow of the land, and tell + That the brave sower saw his ripened grain. + O East and West! O morn and sunset twain + No more forever!--has he lived in vain + Who, priest of Freedom, made ye one, and told + Your bridal service from his lips of gold? + + 1864. + + + + +LINES ON A FLY-LEAF. + + I need not ask thee, for my sake, + To read a book which well may make + Its way by native force of wit + Without my manual sign to it. + Its piquant writer needs from me + No gravely masculine guaranty, + And well might laugh her merriest laugh + At broken spears in her behalf; + Yet, spite of all the critics tell, + I frankly own I like her well. + It may be that she wields a pen + Too sharply nibbed for thin-skinned men, + That her keen arrows search and try + The armor joints of dignity, + And, though alone for error meant, + Sing through the air irreverent. + I blame her not, the young athlete + Who plants her woman's tiny feet, + And dares the chances of debate + Where bearded men might hesitate, + Who, deeply earnest, seeing well + The ludicrous and laughable, + Mingling in eloquent excess + Her anger and her tenderness, + And, chiding with a half-caress, + Strives, less for her own sex than ours, + With principalities and powers, + And points us upward to the clear + Sunned heights of her new atmosphere. + + Heaven mend her faults!--I will not pause + To weigh and doubt and peck at flaws, + Or waste my pity when some fool + Provokes her measureless ridicule. + Strong-minded is she? Better so + Than dulness set for sale or show, + A household folly, capped and belled + In fashion's dance of puppets held, + Or poor pretence of womanhood, + Whose formal, flavorless platitude + Is warranted from all offence + Of robust meaning's violence. + Give me the wine of thought whose head + Sparkles along the page I read,-- + Electric words in which I find + The tonic of the northwest wind; + The wisdom which itself allies + To sweet and pure humanities, + Where scorn of meanness, hate of wrong, + Are underlaid by love as strong; + The genial play of mirth that lights + Grave themes of thought, as when, on nights + Of summer-time, the harmless blaze + Of thunderless heat-lightning plays, + And tree and hill-top resting dim + And doubtful on the sky's vague rim, + Touched by that soft and lambent gleam, + Start sharply outlined from their dream. + + Talk not to me of woman's sphere, + Nor point with Scripture texts a sneer, + Nor wrong the manliest saint of all + By doubt, if he were here, that Paul + Would own the heroines who have lent + Grace to truth's stern arbitrament, + Foregone the praise to woman sweet, + And cast their crowns at Duty's feet; + Like her, who by her strong Appeal + Made Fashion weep and Mammon feel, + Who, earliest summoned to withstand + The color-madness of the land, + Counted her life-long losses gain, + And made her own her sisters' pain; + Or her who, in her greenwood shade, + Heard the sharp call that Freedom made, + And, answering, struck from Sappho's lyre + Of love the Tyrtman carmen's fire + Or that young girl,--Domremy's maid + Revived a nobler cause to aid,-- + Shaking from warning finger-tips + The doom of her apocalypse; + Or her, who world-wide entrance gave + To the log-cabin of the slave, + Made all his want and sorrow known, + And all earth's languages his own. + + 1866. + + + + +GEORGE L. STEARNS + +No man rendered greater service to the cause of freedom than Major +Stearns in the great struggle between invading slave-holders and the +free settlers of Kansas. + + + He has done the work of a true man,-- + Crown him, honor him, love him. + Weep, over him, tears of woman, + Stoop manliest brows above him! + + O dusky mothers and daughters, + Vigils of mourning keep for him! + Up in the mountains, and down by the waters, + Lift up your voices and weep for him, + + For the warmest of hearts is frozen, + The freest of hands is still; + And the gap in our picked and chosen + The long years may not fill. + + No duty could overtask him, + No need his will outrun; + Or ever our lips could ask him, + His hands the work had done. + + He forgot his own soul for others, + Himself to his neighbor lending; + He found the Lord in his suffering brothers, + And not in the clouds descending. + + So the bed was sweet to die on, + Whence he saw the doors wide swung + Against whose bolted iron + The strength of his life was flung. + + And he saw ere his eye was darkened + The sheaves of the harvest-bringing, + And knew while his ear yet hearkened + The voice of the reapers singing. + + Ah, well! The world is discreet; + There are plenty to pause and wait; + But here was a man who set his feet + Sometimes in advance of fate; + + Plucked off the old bark when the inner + Was slow to renew it, + And put to the Lord's work the sinner + When saints failed to do it. + + Never rode to the wrong's redressing + A worthier paladin. + Shall he not hear the blessing, + "Good and faithful, enter in!" + + 1867 + + + + +GARIBALDI + + In trance and dream of old, God's prophet saw + The casting down of thrones. Thou, watching lone + The hot Sardinian coast-line, hazy-hilled, + Where, fringing round Caprera's rocky zone + With foam, the slow waves gather and withdraw, + Behold'st the vision of the seer fulfilled, + And hear'st the sea-winds burdened with a sound + Of falling chains, as, one by one, unbound, + The nations lift their right hands up and swear + Their oath of freedom. From the chalk-white wall + Of England, from the black Carpathian range, + Along the Danube and the Theiss, through all + The passes of the Spanish Pyrenees, + And from the Seine's thronged banks, a murmur strange + And glad floats to thee o'er thy summer seas + On the salt wind that stirs thy whitening hair,-- + The song of freedom's bloodless victories! + Rejoice, O Garibaldi! Though thy sword + Failed at Rome's gates, and blood seemed vainly poured + Where, in Christ's name, the crowned infidel + Of France wrought murder with the arms of hell + On that sad mountain slope whose ghostly dead, + Unmindful of the gray exorcist's ban, + Walk, unappeased, the chambered Vatican, + And draw the curtains of Napoleon's bed! + God's providence is not blind, but, full of eyes, + It searches all the refuges of lies; + And in His time and way, the accursed things + Before whose evil feet thy battle-gage + Has clashed defiance from hot youth to age + Shall perish. All men shall be priests and kings, + One royal brotherhood, one church made free + By love, which is the law of liberty. + + 1869. + + + + +TO LYDIA MARIA CHILD, + +ON READING HER POEM IN "THE STANDARD." + +Mrs. Child wrote her lines, beginning, "Again the trees are clothed in +vernal green," May 24, 1859, on the first anniversary of Ellis Gray +Loring's death, but did not publish them for some years afterward, when +I first read them, or I could not have made the reference which I did to +the extinction of slavery. + + + The sweet spring day is glad with music, + But through it sounds a sadder strain; + The worthiest of our narrowing circle + Sings Loring's dirges o'er again. + + O woman greatly loved! I join thee + In tender memories of our friend; + With thee across the awful spaces + The greeting of a soul I send! + + What cheer hath he? How is it with him? + Where lingers he this weary while? + Over what pleasant fields of Heaven + Dawns the sweet sunrise of his smile? + + Does he not know our feet are treading + The earth hard down on Slavery's grave? + That, in our crowning exultations, + We miss the charm his presence gave? + + Why on this spring air comes no whisper + From him to tell us all is well? + Why to our flower-time comes no token + Of lily and of asphodel? + + I feel the unutterable longing, + Thy hunger of the heart is mine; + I reach and grope for hands in darkness, + My ear grows sharp for voice or sign. + + Still on the lips of all we question + The finger of God's silence lies; + Will the lost hands in ours be folded? + Will the shut eyelids ever rise? + + O friend! no proof beyond this yearning, + This outreach of our hearts, we need; + God will not mock the hope He giveth, + No love He prompts shall vainly plead. + + Then let us stretch our hands in darkness, + And call our loved ones o'er and o'er; + Some day their arms shall close about us, + And the old voices speak once more. + + No dreary splendors wait our coming + Where rapt ghost sits from ghost apart; + Homeward we go to Heaven's thanksgiving, + The harvest-gathering of the heart. + + 1870. + + + + +THE SINGER. + +This poem was written on the death of Alice Cary. Her sister Phoebe, +heart-broken by her loss, followed soon after. Noble and richly gifted, +lovely in person and character, they left behind them only friends and +admirers. + + + Years since (but names to me before), + Two sisters sought at eve my door; + Two song-birds wandering from their nest, + A gray old farm-house in the West. + + How fresh of life the younger one, + Half smiles, half tears, like rain in sun! + Her gravest mood could scarce displace + The dimples of her nut-brown face. + + Wit sparkled on her lips not less + For quick and tremulous tenderness; + And, following close her merriest glance, + Dreamed through her eyes the heart's romance. + + Timid and still, the elder had + Even then a smile too sweetly sad; + The crown of pain that all must wear + Too early pressed her midnight hair. + + Yet ere the summer eve grew long, + Her modest lips were sweet with song; + A memory haunted all her words + Of clover-fields and singing birds. + + Her dark, dilating eyes expressed + The broad horizons of the west; + Her speech dropped prairie flowers; the gold + Of harvest wheat about her rolled. + + Fore-doomed to song she seemed to me + I queried not with destiny + I knew the trial and the need, + Yet, all the more, I said, God speed? + + What could I other than I did? + Could I a singing-bird forbid? + Deny the wind-stirred leaf? Rebuke + The music of the forest brook? + + She went with morning from my door, + But left me richer than before; + Thenceforth I knew her voice of cheer, + The welcome of her partial ear. + + Years passed: through all the land her name + A pleasant household word became + All felt behind the singer stood + A sweet and gracious womanhood. + + Her life was earnest work, not play; + Her tired feet climbed a weary way; + And even through her lightest strain + We heard an undertone of pain. + + Unseen of her her fair fame grew, + The good she did she rarely knew, + Unguessed of her in life the love + That rained its tears her grave above. + + When last I saw her, full of peace, + She waited for her great release; + And that old friend so sage and bland, + Our later Franklin, held her hand. + + For all that patriot bosoms stirs + Had moved that woman's heart of hers, + And men who toiled in storm and sun + Found her their meet companion. + + Our converse, from her suffering bed + To healthful themes of life she led + The out-door world of bud and bloom + And light and sweetness filled her room. + + Yet evermore an underthought + Of loss to come within us wrought, + And all the while we felt the strain + Of the strong will that conquered pain. + + God giveth quietness at last! + The common way that all have passed + She went, with mortal yearnings fond, + To fuller life and love beyond. + + Fold the rapt soul in your embrace, + My dear ones! Give the singer place + To you, to her,--I know not where,-- + I lift the silence of a prayer. + + For only thus our own we find; + The gone before, the left behind, + All mortal voices die between; + The unheard reaches the unseen. + + Again the blackbirds sing; the streams + Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, + And tremble in the April showers + The tassels of the maple flowers. + + But not for her has spring renewed + The sweet surprises of the wood; + And bird and flower are lost to her + Who was their best interpreter. + + What to shut eyes has God revealed? + What hear the ears that death has sealed? + What undreamed beauty passing show + Requites the loss of all we know? + + O silent land, to which we move, + Enough if there alone be love, + And mortal need can ne'er outgrow + What it is waiting to bestow! + + O white soul! from that far-off shore + Float some sweet song the waters o'er. + Our faith confirm, our fears dispel, + With the old voice we loved so well! + + 1871. + + + + +HOW MARY GREW. + +These lines were in answer to an invitation to hear a lecture of Mary +Grew, of Philadelphia, before the Boston Radical Club. The reference in +the last stanza is to an essay on Sappho by T. W. Higginson, read at the +club the preceding month. + + + With wisdom far beyond her years, + And graver than her wondering peers, + So strong, so mild, combining still + The tender heart and queenly will, + To conscience and to duty true, + So, up from childhood, Mary Grew! + + Then in her gracious womanhood + She gave her days to doing good. + She dared the scornful laugh of men, + The hounding mob, the slanderer's pen. + She did the work she found to do,-- + A Christian heroine, Mary Grew! + + The freed slave thanks her; blessing comes + To her from women's weary homes; + The wronged and erring find in her + Their censor mild and comforter. + The world were safe if but a few + Could grow in grace as Mary Grew! + + So, New Year's Eve, I sit and say, + By this low wood-fire, ashen gray; + Just wishing, as the night shuts down, + That I could hear in Boston town, + In pleasant Chestnut Avenue, + From her own lips, how Mary Grew! + + And hear her graceful hostess tell + The silver-voiced oracle + Who lately through her parlors spoke + As through Dodona's sacred oak, + A wiser truth than any told + By Sappho's lips of ruddy gold,-- + The way to make the world anew, + Is just to grow--as Mary Grew. + 1871. + + + + +SUMNER + +"I am not one who has disgraced beauty of sentiment by deformity of +conduct, or the maxims of a freeman by the actions of a slave; but, by +the grace of God, I have kept my life unsullied." --MILTON'S _Defence of +the People of England_. + + + O Mother State! the winds of March + Blew chill o'er Auburn's Field of God, + Where, slow, beneath a leaden arch + Of sky, thy mourning children trod. + + And now, with all thy woods in leaf, + Thy fields in flower, beside thy dead + Thou sittest, in thy robes of grief, + A Rachel yet uncomforted! + + And once again the organ swells, + Once more the flag is half-way hung, + And yet again the mournful bells + In all thy steeple-towers are rung. + + And I, obedient to thy will, + Have come a simple wreath to lay, + Superfluous, on a grave that still + Is sweet with all the flowers of May. + + I take, with awe, the task assigned; + It may be that my friend might miss, + In his new sphere of heart and mind, + Some token from my band in this. + + By many a tender memory moved, + Along the past my thought I send; + The record of the cause he loved + Is the best record of its friend. + + No trumpet sounded in his ear, + He saw not Sinai's cloud and flame, + But never yet to Hebrew seer + A clearer voice of duty came. + + God said: "Break thou these yokes; undo + These heavy burdens. I ordain + A work to last thy whole life through, + A ministry of strife and pain. + + "Forego thy dreams of lettered ease, + Put thou the scholar's promise by, + The rights of man are more than these." + He heard, and answered: "Here am I!" + + He set his face against the blast, + His feet against the flinty shard, + Till the hard service grew, at last, + Its own exceeding great reward. + + Lifted like Saul's above the crowd, + Upon his kingly forehead fell + The first sharp bolt of Slavery's cloud, + Launched at the truth he urged so well. + + Ah! never yet, at rack or stake, + Was sorer loss made Freedom's gain, + Than his, who suffered for her sake + The beak-torn Titan's lingering pain! + + The fixed star of his faith, through all + Loss, doubt, and peril, shone the same; + As through a night of storm, some tall, + Strong lighthouse lifts its steady flame. + + Beyond the dust and smoke he saw + The sheaves of Freedom's large increase, + The holy fanes of equal law, + The New Jerusalem of peace. + + The weak might fear, the worldling mock, + The faint and blind of heart regret; + All knew at last th' eternal rock + On which his forward feet were set. + + The subtlest scheme of compromise + Was folly to his purpose bold; + The strongest mesh of party lies + Weak to the simplest truth he told. + + One language held his heart and lip, + Straight onward to his goal he trod, + And proved the highest statesmanship + Obedience to the voice of God. + + No wail was in his voice,--none heard, + When treason's storm-cloud blackest grew, + The weakness of a doubtful word; + His duty, and the end, he knew. + + The first to smite, the first to spare; + When once the hostile ensigns fell, + He stretched out hands of generous care + To lift the foe he fought so well. + + For there was nothing base or small + Or craven in his soul's broad plan; + Forgiving all things personal, + He hated only wrong to man. + + The old traditions of his State, + The memories of her great and good, + Took from his life a fresher date, + And in himself embodied stood. + + How felt the greed of gold and place, + The venal crew that schemed and planned, + The fine scorn of that haughty face, + The spurning of that bribeless hand! + + If than Rome's tribunes statelier + He wore his senatorial robe, + His lofty port was all for her, + The one dear spot on all the globe. + + If to the master's plea he gave + The vast contempt his manhood felt, + He saw a brother in the slave,-- + With man as equal man he dealt. + + Proud was he? If his presence kept + Its grandeur wheresoe'er he trod, + As if from Plutarch's gallery stepped + The hero and the demigod, + + None failed, at least, to reach his ear, + Nor want nor woe appealed in vain; + The homesick soldier knew his cheer, + And blessed him from his ward of pain. + + Safely his dearest friends may own + The slight defects he never hid, + The surface-blemish in the stone + Of the tall, stately pyramid. + + Suffice it that he never brought + His conscience to the public mart; + But lived himself the truth he taught, + White-souled, clean-handed, pure of heart. + + What if he felt the natural pride + Of power in noble use, too true + With thin humilities to hide + The work he did, the lore he knew? + + Was he not just? Was any wronged + By that assured self-estimate? + He took but what to him belonged, + Unenvious of another's state. + + Well might he heed the words he spake, + And scan with care the written page + Through which he still shall warm and wake + The hearts of men from age to age. + + Ah! who shall blame him now because + He solaced thus his hours of pain! + Should not the o'erworn thresher pause, + And hold to light his golden grain? + + No sense of humor dropped its oil + On the hard ways his purpose went; + Small play of fancy lightened toil; + He spake alone the thing he meant. + + He loved his books, the Art that hints + A beauty veiled behind its own, + The graver's line, the pencil's tints, + The chisel's shape evoked from stone. + + He cherished, void of selfish ends, + The social courtesies that bless + And sweeten life, and loved his friends + With most unworldly tenderness. + + But still his tired eyes rarely learned + The glad relief by Nature brought; + Her mountain ranges never turned + His current of persistent thought. + + The sea rolled chorus to his speech + Three-banked like Latium's' tall trireme, + With laboring oars; the grove and beach + Were Forum and the Academe. + + The sensuous joy from all things fair + His strenuous bent of soul repressed, + And left from youth to silvered hair + Few hours for pleasure, none for rest. + + For all his life was poor without, + O Nature, make the last amends + Train all thy flowers his grave about, + And make thy singing-birds his friends! + + Revive again, thou summer rain, + The broken turf upon his bed + Breathe, summer wind, thy tenderest strain + Of low, sweet music overhead! + + With calm and beauty symbolize + The peace which follows long annoy, + And lend our earth-bent, mourning eyes, + Some hint of his diviner joy. + + For safe with right and truth he is, + As God lives he must live alway; + There is no end for souls like his, + No night for children of the day! + + Nor cant nor poor solicitudes + Made weak his life's great argument; + Small leisure his for frames and moods + Who followed Duty where she went. + + The broad, fair fields of God he saw + Beyond the bigot's narrow bound; + The truths he moulded into law + In Christ's beatitudes he found. + + His state-craft was the Golden Rule, + His right of vote a sacred trust; + Clear, over threat and ridicule, + All heard his challenge: "Is it just?" + + And when the hour supreme had come, + Not for himself a thought he gave; + In that last pang of martyrdom, + His care was for the half-freed slave. + + Not vainly dusky hands upbore, + In prayer, the passing soul to heaven + Whose mercy to His suffering poor + Was service to the Master given. + + Long shall the good State's annals tell, + Her children's children long be taught, + How, praised or blamed, he guarded well + The trust he neither shunned nor sought. + + If for one moment turned thy face, + O Mother, from thy son, not long + He waited calmly in his place + The sure remorse which follows wrong. + + Forgiven be the State he loved + The one brief lapse, the single blot; + Forgotten be the stain removed, + Her righted record shows it not! + + The lifted sword above her shield + With jealous care shall guard his fame; + The pine-tree on her ancient field + To all the winds shall speak his name. + + The marble image of her son + Her loving hands shall yearly crown, + And from her pictured Pantheon + His grand, majestic face look down. + + O State so passing rich before, + Who now shall doubt thy highest claim? + The world that counts thy jewels o'er + Shall longest pause at Sumner's name! + + 1874. + + + + +THEIRS + + I. + Fate summoned, in gray-bearded age, to act + A history stranger than his written fact, + Him who portrayed the splendor and the gloom + Of that great hour when throne and altar fell + With long death-groan which still is audible. + He, when around the walls of Paris rung + The Prussian bugle like the blast of doom, + And every ill which follows unblest war + Maddened all France from Finistere to Var, + The weight of fourscore from his shoulders flung, + And guided Freedom in the path he saw + Lead out of chaos into light and law, + Peace, not imperial, but republican, + And order pledged to all the Rights of Man. + + II. + Death called him from a need as imminent + As that from which the Silent William went + When powers of evil, like the smiting seas + On Holland's dikes, assailed her liberties. + Sadly, while yet in doubtful balance hung + The weal and woe of France, the bells were rung + For her lost leader. Paralyzed of will, + Above his bier the hearts of men stood still. + Then, as if set to his dead lips, the horn + Of Roland wound once more to rouse and warn, + The old voice filled the air! His last brave word + Not vainly France to all her boundaries stirred. + Strong as in life, he still for Freedom wrought, + As the dead Cid at red Toloso fought. + + 1877. + + + + +FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. AT THE UNVEILING OF HIS STATUE. + + Among their graven shapes to whom + Thy civic wreaths belong, + O city of his love, make room + For one whose gift was song. + + Not his the soldier's sword to wield, + Nor his the helm of state, + Nor glory of the stricken field, + Nor triumph of debate. + + In common ways, with common men, + He served his race and time + As well as if his clerkly pen + Had never danced to rhyme. + + If, in the thronged and noisy mart, + The Muses found their son, + Could any say his tuneful art + A duty left undone? + + He toiled and sang; and year by year + Men found their homes more sweet, + And through a tenderer atmosphere + Looked down the brick-walled street. + + The Greek's wild onset gall Street knew; + The Red King walked Broadway; + And Alnwick Castle's roses blew + From Palisades to Bay. + + Fair City by the Sea! upraise + His veil with reverent hands; + And mingle with thy own the praise + And pride of other lands. + + Let Greece his fiery lyric breathe + Above her hero-urns; + And Scotland, with her holly, wreathe + The flower he culled for Burns. + + Oh, stately stand thy palace walls, + Thy tall ships ride the seas; + To-day thy poet's name recalls + A prouder thought than these. + + Not less thy pulse of trade shall beat, + Nor less thy tall fleets swim, + That shaded square and dusty street + Are classic ground through him. + + Alive, he loved, like all who sing, + The echoes of his song; + Too late the tardy meed we bring, + The praise delayed so long. + + Too late, alas! Of all who knew + The living man, to-day + Before his unveiled face, how few + Make bare their locks of gray! + + Our lips of praise must soon be dumb, + Our grateful eyes be dim; + O brothers of the days to come, + Take tender charge of him! + + New hands the wires of song may sweep, + New voices challenge fame; + But let no moss of years o'ercreep + The lines of Halleck's name. + + 1877. + + + + +WILLIAM FRANCIS BARTLETT. + + Oh, well may Essex sit forlorn + Beside her sea-blown shore; + Her well beloved, her noblest born, + Is hers in life no more! + + No lapse of years can render less + Her memory's sacred claim; + No fountain of forgetfulness + Can wet the lips of Fame. + + A grief alike to wound and heal, + A thought to soothe and pain, + The sad, sweet pride that mothers feel + To her must still remain. + + Good men and true she has not lacked, + And brave men yet shall be; + The perfect flower, the crowning fact, + Of all her years was he! + + As Galahad pure, as Merlin sage, + What worthier knight was found + To grace in Arthur's golden age + The fabled Table Round? + + A voice, the battle's trumpet-note, + To welcome and restore; + A hand, that all unwilling smote, + To heal and build once more; + + A soul of fire, a tender heart + Too warm for hate, he knew + The generous victor's graceful part + To sheathe the sword he drew. + + When Earth, as if on evil dreams, + Looks back upon her wars, + And the white light of Christ outstreams + From the red disk of Mars, + + His fame who led the stormy van + Of battle well may cease, + But never that which crowns the man + Whose victory was Peace. + + Mourn, Essex, on thy sea-blown shore + Thy beautiful and brave, + Whose failing hand the olive bore, + Whose dying lips forgave! + + Let age lament the youthful chief, + And tender eyes be dim; + The tears are more of joy than grief + That fall for one like him! + + 1878. + + + + +BAYARD TAYLOR. + + I. + "And where now, Bayard, will thy footsteps tend?" + My sister asked our guest one winter's day. + Smiling he answered in the Friends' sweet way + Common to both: "Wherever thou shall send! + What wouldst thou have me see for thee?" She laughed, + Her dark eyes dancing in the wood-fire's glow + "Loffoden isles, the Kilpis, and the low, + Unsetting sun on Finmark's fishing-craft." + "All these and more I soon shall see for thee!" + He answered cheerily: and he kept his pledge + On Lapland snows, the North Cape's windy wedge, + And Tromso freezing in its winter sea. + He went and came. But no man knows the track + Of his last journey, and he comes not back! + + II. + He brought us wonders of the new and old; + We shared all climes with him. The Arab's tent + To him its story-telling secret lent. + And, pleased, we listened to the tales he told. + His task, beguiled with songs that shall endure, + In manly, honest thoroughness he wrought; + From humble home-lays to the heights of thought + Slowly he climbed, but every step was sure. + How, with the generous pride that friendship hath, + We, who so loved him, saw at last the crown + Of civic honor on his brows pressed down, + Rejoiced, and knew not that the gift was death. + And now for him, whose praise in deafened ears + Two nations speak, we answer but with tears! + + III. + O Vale of Chester! trod by him so oft, + Green as thy June turf keep his memory. Let + Nor wood, nor dell, nor storied stream forget, + Nor winds that blow round lonely Cedarcroft; + Let the home voices greet him in the far, + Strange land that holds him; let the messages + Of love pursue him o'er the chartless seas + And unmapped vastness of his unknown star + Love's language, heard beyond the loud discourse + Of perishable fame, in every sphere + Itself interprets; and its utterance here + Somewhere in God's unfolding universe + Shall reach our traveller, softening the surprise + Of his rapt gaze on unfamiliar skies! + + 1879. + + + +OUR AUTOCRAT. + +Read at the breakfast given in honor of Dr. Holmes by the publishers of +the Atlantic Monthly, December 3, 1879. + + + His laurels fresh from song and lay, + Romance, art, science, rich in all, + And young of heart, how dare we say + We keep his seventieth festival? + + No sense is here of loss or lack; + Before his sweetness and his light + The dial holds its shadow back, + The charmed hours delay their flight. + + His still the keen analysis + Of men and moods, electric wit, + Free play of mirth, and tenderness + To heal the slightest wound from it. + + And his the pathos touching all + Life's sins and sorrows and regrets, + Its hopes and fears, its final call + And rest beneath the violets. + + His sparkling surface scarce betrays + The thoughtful tide beneath it rolled, + The wisdom of the latter days, + And tender memories of the old. + + What shapes and fancies, grave or gay, + Before us at his bidding come + The Treadmill tramp, the One-Horse Shay, + The dumb despair of Elsie's doom! + + The tale of Avis and the Maid, + The plea for lips that cannot speak, + The holy kiss that Iris laid + On Little Boston's pallid cheek! + + Long may he live to sing for us + His sweetest songs at evening time, + And, like his Chambered Nautilus, + To holier heights of beauty climb, + + Though now unnumbered guests surround + The table that he rules at will, + Its Autocrat, however crowned, + Is but our friend and comrade still. + + The world may keep his honored name, + The wealth of all his varied powers; + A stronger claim has love than fame, + And he himself is only ours! + + + + +WITHIN THE GATE. L. M. C. + +I have more fully expressed my admiration and regard for Lydia Maria +Child in the biographical introduction which I wrote for the volume of +Letters, published after her death. + + + We sat together, last May-day, and talked + Of the dear friends who walked + Beside us, sharers of the hopes and fears + Of five and forty years, + + Since first we met in Freedom's hope forlorn, + And heard her battle-horn + Sound through the valleys of the sleeping North, + Calling her children forth, + + And youth pressed forward with hope-lighted eyes, + And age, with forecast wise + Of the long strife before the triumph won, + Girded his armor on. + + Sadly, ass name by name we called the roll, + We heard the dead-bells toll + For the unanswering many, and we knew + The living were the few. + + And we, who waited our own call before + The inevitable door, + Listened and looked, as all have done, to win + Some token from within. + + No sign we saw, we heard no voices call; + The impenetrable wall + Cast down its shadow, like an awful doubt, + On all who sat without. + + Of many a hint of life beyond the veil, + And many a ghostly tale + Wherewith the ages spanned the gulf between + The seen and the unseen, + + Seeking from omen, trance, and dream to gain + Solace to doubtful pain, + And touch, with groping hands, the garment hem + Of truth sufficing them, + + We talked; and, turning from the sore unrest + Of an all-baffling quest, + We thought of holy lives that from us passed + Hopeful unto the last, + + As if they saw beyond the river of death, + Like Him of Nazareth, + The many mansions of the Eternal days + Lift up their gates of praise. + + And, hushed to silence by a reverent awe, + Methought, O friend, I saw + In thy true life of word, and work, and thought + The proof of all we sought. + + Did we not witness in the life of thee + Immortal prophecy? + And feel, when with thee, that thy footsteps trod + An everlasting road? + + Not for brief days thy generous sympathies, + Thy scorn of selfish ease; + Not for the poor prize of an earthly goal + Thy strong uplift of soul. + + Than thine was never turned a fonder heart + To nature and to art + In fair-formed Hellas in her golden prime, + Thy Philothea's time. + + Yet, loving beauty, thou couldst pass it by, + And for the poor deny + Thyself, and see thy fresh, sweet flower of fame + Wither in blight and blame. + + Sharing His love who holds in His embrace + The lowliest of our race, + Sure the Divine economy must be + Conservative of thee! + + For truth must live with truth, self-sacrifice + Seek out its great allies; + Good must find good by gravitation sure, + And love with love endure. + + And so, since thou hast passed within the gate + Whereby awhile I wait, + I give blind grief and blinder sense the lie + Thou hast not lived to die! + + 1881. + + + + +IN MEMORY. JAMES T. FIELDS. + + As a guest who may not stay + Long and sad farewells to say + Glides with smiling face away, + + Of the sweetness and the zest + Of thy happy life possessed + Thou hast left us at thy best. + + Warm of heart and clear of brain, + Of thy sun-bright spirit's wane + Thou hast spared us all the pain. + + Now that thou hast gone away, + What is left of one to say + Who was open as the day? + + What is there to gloss or shun? + Save with kindly voices none + Speak thy name beneath the sun. + + Safe thou art on every side, + Friendship nothing finds to hide, + Love's demand is satisfied. + + Over manly strength and worth, + At thy desk of toil, or hearth, + Played the lambent light of mirth,-- + + Mirth that lit, but never burned; + All thy blame to pity turned; + Hatred thou hadst never learned. + + Every harsh and vexing thing + At thy home-fire lost its sting; + Where thou wast was always spring. + + And thy perfect trust in good, + Faith in man and womanhood, + Chance and change and time, withstood. + + Small respect for cant and whine, + Bigot's zeal and hate malign, + Had that sunny soul of thine. + + But to thee was duty's claim + Sacred, and thy lips became + Reverent with one holy Name. + + Therefore, on thy unknown way, + Go in God's peace! We who stay + But a little while delay. + + Keep for us, O friend, where'er + Thou art waiting, all that here + Made thy earthly presence dear; + + Something of thy pleasant past + On a ground of wonder cast, + In the stiller waters glassed! + + Keep the human heart of thee; + Let the mortal only be + Clothed in immortality. + + And when fall our feet as fell + Thine upon the asphodel, + Let thy old smile greet us well; + + Proving in a world of bliss + What we fondly dream in this,-- + Love is one with holiness! + + 1881. + + + + +WILSON + +Read at the Massachusetts Club on the seventieth anniversary the +birthday of Vice-President Wilson, February 16, 1882. + + + The lowliest born of all the land, + He wrung from Fate's reluctant hand + The gifts which happier boyhood claims; + And, tasting on a thankless soil + The bitter bread of unpaid toil, + He fed his soul with noble aims. + + And Nature, kindly provident, + To him the future's promise lent; + The powers that shape man's destinies, + Patience and faith and toil, he knew, + The close horizon round him grew, + Broad with great possibilities. + + By the low hearth-fire's fitful blaze + He read of old heroic days, + The sage's thought, the patriot's speech; + Unhelped, alone, himself he taught, + His school the craft at which he wrought, + His lore the book within his, reach. + + He felt his country's need; he knew + The work her children had to do; + And when, at last, he heard the call + In her behalf to serve and dare, + Beside his senatorial chair + He stood the unquestioned peer of all. + + Beyond the accident of birth + He proved his simple manhood's worth; + Ancestral pride and classic grace + Confessed the large-brained artisan, + So clear of sight, so wise in plan + And counsel, equal to his place. + + With glance intuitive he saw + Through all disguise of form and law, + And read men like an open book; + Fearless and firm, he never quailed + Nor turned aside for threats, nor failed + To do the thing he undertook. + + How wise, how brave, he was, how well + He bore himself, let history tell + While waves our flag o'er land and sea, + No black thread in its warp or weft; + He found dissevered States, he left + A grateful Nation, strong and free! + + + + +THE POET AND THE CHILDREN. LONGFELLOW. + + WITH a glory of winter sunshine + Over his locks of gray, + In the old historic mansion + He sat on his last birthday; + + With his books and his pleasant pictures, + And his household and his kin, + While a sound as of myriads singing + From far and near stole in. + + It came from his own fair city, + From the prairie's boundless plain, + From the Golden Gate of sunset, + And the cedarn woods of Maine. + + And his heart grew warm within him, + And his moistening eyes grew dim, + For he knew that his country's children + Were singing the songs of him, + + The lays of his life's glad morning, + The psalms of his evening time, + Whose echoes shall float forever + On the winds of every clime. + + All their beautiful consolations, + Sent forth like birds of cheer, + Came flocking back to his windows, + And sang in the Poet's ear. + + Grateful, but solemn and tender, + The music rose and fell + With a joy akin to sadness + And a greeting like farewell. + + With a sense of awe he listened + To the voices sweet and young; + The last of earth and the first of heaven + Seemed in the songs they sung. + + And waiting a little longer + For the wonderful change to come, + He heard the Summoning Angel, + Who calls God's children home! + + And to him in a holier welcome + Was the mystical meaning given + Of the words of the blessed Master + "Of such is the kingdom of heaven!" + + 1882 + + + + +A WELCOME TO LOWELL + + Take our hands, James Russell Lowell, + Our hearts are all thy own; + To-day we bid thee welcome + Not for ourselves alone. + + In the long years of thy absence + Some of us have grown old, + And some have passed the portals + Of the Mystery untold; + + For the hands that cannot clasp thee, + For the voices that are dumb, + For each and all I bid thee + A grateful welcome home! + + For Cedarcroft's sweet singer + To the nine-fold Muses dear; + For the Seer the winding Concord + Paused by his door to hear; + + For him, our guide and Nestor, + Who the march of song began, + The white locks of his ninety years + Bared to thy winds, Cape Ann! + + For him who, to the music + Her pines and hemlocks played, + Set the old and tender story + Of the lorn Acadian maid; + + For him, whose voice for freedom + Swayed friend and foe at will, + Hushed is the tongue of silver, + The golden lips are still! + + For her whose life of duty + At scoff and menace smiled, + Brave as the wife of Roland, + Yet gentle as a Child. + + And for him the three-hilled city + Shall hold in memory long, + Those name is the hint and token + Of the pleasant Fields of Song! + + For the old friends unforgotten, + For the young thou hast not known, + I speak their heart-warm greeting; + Come back and take thy own! + + From England's royal farewells, + And honors fitly paid, + Come back, dear Russell Lowell, + To Elmwood's waiting shade! + + Come home with all the garlands + That crown of right thy head. + I speak for comrades living, + I speak for comrades dead! + + AMESBURY, 6th mo., 1885. + + + + +AN ARTIST OF THE BEAUTIFUL. GEORGE FULLER + + Haunted of Beauty, like the marvellous youth + Who sang Saint Agnes' Eve! How passing fair + Her shapes took color in thy homestead air! + How on thy canvas even her dreams were truth! + Magician! who from commonest elements + Called up divine ideals, clothed upon + By mystic lights soft blending into one + Womanly grace and child-like innocence. + Teacher I thy lesson was not given in vain. + Beauty is goodness; ugliness is sin; + Art's place is sacred: nothing foul therein + May crawl or tread with bestial feet profane. + If rightly choosing is the painter's test, + Thy choice, O master, ever was the best. + + 1885. + + + + +MULFORD. + +Author of The Nation and The Republic of God. + + + Unnoted as the setting of a star + He passed; and sect and party scarcely knew + When from their midst a sage and seer withdrew + To fitter audience, where the great dead are + In God's republic of the heart and mind, + Leaving no purer, nobler soul behind. + + 1886. + + + + +TO A CAPE ANN SCHOONER + + Luck to the craft that bears this name of mine, + Good fortune follow with her golden spoon + The glazed hat and tarry pantaloon; + And wheresoe'er her keel shall cut the brine, + Cod, hake and haddock quarrel for her line. + Shipped with her crew, whatever wind may blow, + Or tides delay, my wish with her shall go, + Fishing by proxy. Would that it might show + At need her course, in lack of sun and star, + Where icebergs threaten, and the sharp reefs are; + Lift the blind fog on Anticosti's lee + And Avalon's rock; make populous the sea + Round Grand Manan with eager finny swarms, + Break the long calms, and charm away the storms. + + OAK KNOLL, 23 3rd mo., 1886. + + + + +SAMUEL J. TILDEN. + +GREYSTONE, AUG. 4, 1886. + + Once more, O all-adjusting Death! + The nation's Pantheon opens wide; + Once more a common sorrow saith + A strong, wise man has died. + + Faults doubtless had he. Had we not + Our own, to question and asperse + The worth we doubted or forgot + Until beside his hearse? + + Ambitious, cautious, yet the man + To strike down fraud with resolute hand; + A patriot, if a partisan, + He loved his native land. + + So let the mourning bells be rung, + The banner droop its folds half way, + And while the public pen and tongue + Their fitting tribute pay, + + Shall we not vow above his bier + To set our feet on party lies, + And wound no more a living ear + With words that Death denies? + + 1886 + + + + + +OCCASIONAL POEMS + + + + +EVA + +Suggested by Mrs. Stowe's tale of Uncle Tom's Cabin, and written when +the characters in the tale were realities by the fireside of countless +American homes. + + + Dry the tears for holy Eva, + With the blessed angels leave her; + Of the form so soft and fair + Give to earth the tender care. + + For the golden locks of Eva + Let the sunny south-land give her + Flowery pillow of repose, + Orange-bloom and budding rose. + + In the better home of Eva + Let the shining ones receive her, + With the welcome-voiced psalm, + Harp of gold and waving palm, + + All is light and peace with Eva; + There the darkness cometh never; + Tears are wiped, and fetters fall. + And the Lord is all in all. + + Weep no more for happy Eva, + Wrong and sin no more shall grieve her; + Care and pain and weariness + Lost in love so measureless. + + Gentle Eva, loving Eva, + Child confessor, true believer, + Listener at the Master's knee, + "Suffer such to come to me." + + Oh, for faith like thine, sweet Eva, + Lighting all the solemn river, + And the blessings of the poor + Wafting to the heavenly shore! + 1852 + + + + +A LAY OF OLD TIME. + +Written for the Essex County Agricultural Fair, and sung at the banquet +at Newburyport, October 2, 1856. + + + One morning of the first sad Fall, + Poor Adam and his bride + Sat in the shade of Eden's wall-- + But on the outer side. + + She, blushing in her fig-leaf suit + For the chaste garb of old; + He, sighing o'er his bitter fruit + For Eden's drupes of gold. + + Behind them, smiling in the morn, + Their forfeit garden lay, + Before them, wild with rock and thorn, + The desert stretched away. + + They heard the air above them fanned, + A light step on the sward, + And lo! they saw before them stand + The angel of the Lord! + + "Arise," he said, "why look behind, + When hope is all before, + And patient hand and willing mind, + Your loss may yet restore? + + "I leave with you a spell whose power + Can make the desert glad, + And call around you fruit and flower + As fair as Eden had. + + "I clothe your hands with power to lift + The curse from off your soil; + Your very doom shall seem a gift, + Your loss a gain through Toil. + + "Go, cheerful as yon humming-bees, + To labor as to play." + White glimmering over Eden's trees + The angel passed away. + + The pilgrims of the world went forth + Obedient to the word, + And found where'er they tilled the earth + A garden of the Lord! + + The thorn-tree cast its evil fruit + And blushed with plum and pear, + And seeded grass and trodden root + Grew sweet beneath their care. + + We share our primal parents' fate, + And, in our turn and day, + Look back on Eden's sworded gate + As sad and lost as they. + + But still for us his native skies + The pitying Angel leaves, + And leads through Toil to Paradise + New Adams and new Eves! + + + + +A SONG OF HARVEST + +For the Agricultural and Horticultural Exhibition at Amesbury and +Salisbury, September 28, 1858. + + + This day, two hundred years ago, + The wild grape by the river's side, + And tasteless groundnut trailing low, + The table of the woods supplied. + + Unknown the apple's red and gold, + The blushing tint of peach and pear; + The mirror of the Powow told + No tale of orchards ripe and rare. + + Wild as the fruits he scorned to till, + These vales the idle Indian trod; + Nor knew the glad, creative skill, + The joy of him who toils with God. + + O Painter of the fruits and flowers! + We thank Thee for thy wise design + Whereby these human hands of ours + In Nature's garden work with Thine. + + And thanks that from our daily need + The joy of simple faith is born; + That he who smites the summer weed, + May trust Thee for the autumn corn. + + Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; + Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; + Who sows a field, or trains a flower, + Or plants a tree, is more than all. + + For he who blesses most is blest; + And God and man shall own his worth + Who toils to leave as his bequest + An added beauty to the earth. + + And, soon or late, to all that sow, + The time of harvest shall be given; + The flower shall bloom, the fruit shall grow, + If not on earth, at last in heaven. + + + + +KENOZA LAKE. + +This beautiful lake in East Haverhill was the "Great Pond" the writer's +boyhood. In 1859 a movement was made for improving its shores as a +public park. At the opening of the park, August 31, 1859, the poem which +gave it the name of Kenoza (in Indian language signifying Pickerel) was +read. + + + As Adam did in Paradise, + To-day the primal right we claim + Fair mirror of the woods and skies, + We give to thee a name. + + Lake of the pickerel!--let no more + The echoes answer back, "Great Pond," + But sweet Kenoza, from thy shore + And watching hills beyond, + + Let Indian ghosts, if such there be + Who ply unseen their shadowy lines, + Call back the ancient name to thee, + As with the voice of pines. + + The shores we trod as barefoot boys, + The nutted woods we wandered through, + To friendship, love, and social joys + We consecrate anew. + + Here shall the tender song be sung, + And memory's dirges soft and low, + And wit shall sparkle on the tongue, + And mirth shall overflow, + + Harmless as summer lightning plays + From a low, hidden cloud by night, + A light to set the hills ablaze, + But not a bolt to smite. + + In sunny South and prairied West + Are exiled hearts remembering still, + As bees their hive, as birds their nest, + The homes of Haverhill. + + They join us in our rites to-day; + And, listening, we may hear, erelong, + From inland lake and ocean bay, + The echoes of our song. + + Kenoza! o'er no sweeter lake + Shall morning break or noon-cloud sail,-- + No fairer face than thine shall take + The sunset's golden veil. + + Long be it ere the tide of trade + Shall break with harsh-resounding din + The quiet of thy banks of shade, + And hills that fold thee in. + + Still let thy woodlands hide the hare, + The shy loon sound his trumpet-note, + Wing-weary from his fields of air, + The wild-goose on thee float. + + Thy peace rebuke our feverish stir, + Thy beauty our deforming strife; + Thy woods and waters minister + The healing of their life. + + And sinless Mirth, from care released, + Behold, unawed, thy mirrored sky, + Smiling as smiled on Cana's feast + The Master's loving eye. + + And when the summer day grows dim, + And light mists walk thy mimic sea, + Revive in us the thought of Him + Who walked on Galilee! + + + + +FOR AN AUTUMN FESTIVAL + + The Persian's flowery gifts, the shrine + Of fruitful Ceres, charm no more; + The woven wreaths of oak and pine + Are dust along the Isthmian shore. + + But beauty hath its homage still, + And nature holds us still in debt; + And woman's grace and household skill, + And manhood's toil, are honored yet. + + And we, to-day, amidst our flowers + And fruits, have come to own again + The blessings of the summer hours, + The early and the latter rain; + + To see our Father's hand once more + Reverse for us the plenteous horn + Of autumn, filled and running o'er + With fruit, and flower, and golden corn! + + Once more the liberal year laughs out + O'er richer stores than gems or gold; + Once more with harvest-song and shout + Is Nature's bloodless triumph told. + + Our common mother rests and sings, + Like Ruth, among her garnered sheaves; + Her lap is full of goodly things, + Her brow is bright with autumn leaves. + + Oh, favors every year made new! + Oh, gifts with rain and sunshine sent + The bounty overruns our due, + The fulness shames our discontent. + + We shut our eyes, the flowers bloom on; + We murmur, but the corn-ears fill, + We choose the shadow, but the sun + That casts it shines behind us still. + + God gives us with our rugged soil + The power to make it Eden-fair, + And richer fruits to crown our toil + Than summer-wedded islands bear. + + Who murmurs at his lot to-day? + Who scorns his native fruit and bloom? + Or sighs for dainties far away, + Beside the bounteous board of home? + + Thank Heaven, instead, that Freedom's arm + Can change a rocky soil to gold,-- + That brave and generous lives can warm + A clime with northern ices cold. + + And let these altars, wreathed with flowers + And piled with fruits, awake again + Thanksgivings for the golden hours, + The early and the latter rain! + + 1859 + + + + +THE QUAKER ALUMNI. + +Read at the Friends' School Anniversary, Providence, R. I., 6th mo., +1860. + + + From the well-springs of Hudson, the sea-cliffs of Maine, + Grave men, sober matrons, you gather again; + And, with hearts warmer grown as your heads grow more cool, + Play over the old game of going to school. + + All your strifes and vexations, your whims and complaints, + (You were not saints yourselves, if the children of saints!) + All your petty self-seekings and rivalries done, + Round the dear Alma Mater your hearts beat as one! + + How widely soe'er you have strayed from the fold, + Though your "thee" has grown "you," and your drab blue and gold, + To the old friendly speech and the garb's sober form, + Like the heart of Argyle to the tartan, you warm. + + But, the first greetings over, you glance round the hall; + Your hearts call the roll, but they answer not all + Through the turf green above them the dead cannot hear; + Name by name, in the silence, falls sad as a tear! + + In love, let us trust, they were summoned so soon + rom the morning of life, while we toil through its noon; + They were frail like ourselves, they had needs like our own, + And they rest as we rest in God's mercy alone. + + Unchanged by our changes of spirit and frame, + Past, now, and henceforward the Lord is the same; + Though we sink in the darkness, His arms break our fall, + And in death as in life, He is Father of all! + + We are older: our footsteps, so light in the play + Of the far-away school-time, move slower to-day;-- + Here a beard touched with frost, there a bald, shining crown, + And beneath the cap's border gray mingles with brown. + + But faith should be cheerful, and trust should be glad, + And our follies and sins, not our years, make us sad. + Should the heart closer shut as the bonnet grows prim, + And the face grow in length as the hat grows in brim? + + Life is brief, duty grave; but, with rain-folded wings, + Of yesterday's sunshine the grateful heart sings; + And we, of all others, have reason to pay + The tribute of thanks, and rejoice on our way; + + For the counsels that turned from the follies of youth; + For the beauty of patience, the whiteness of truth; + For the wounds of rebuke, when love tempered its edge; + For the household's restraint, and the discipline's hedge; + + For the lessons of kindness vouchsafed to the least + Of the creatures of God, whether human or beast, + Bringing hope to the poor, lending strength to the frail, + In the lanes of the city, the slave-hut, and jail; + + For a womanhood higher and holier, by all + Her knowledge of good, than was Eve ere her fall,-- + Whose task-work of duty moves lightly as play, + Serene as the moonlight and warm as the day; + + And, yet more, for the faith which embraces the whole, + Of the creeds of the ages the life and the soul, + Wherein letter and spirit the same channel run, + And man has not severed what God has made one! + + For a sense of the Goodness revealed everywhere, + As sunshine impartial, and free as the air; + For a trust in humanity, Heathen or Jew, + And a hope for all darkness the Light shineth through. + + Who scoffs at our birthright?--the words of the seers, + And the songs of the bards in the twilight of years, + All the foregleams of wisdom in santon and sage, + In prophet and priest, are our true heritage. + + The Word which the reason of Plato discerned; + The truth, as whose symbol the Mithra-fire burned; + The soul of the world which the Stoic but guessed, + In the Light Universal the Quaker confessed! + + No honors of war to our worthies belong; + Their plain stem of life never flowered into song; + But the fountains they opened still gush by the way, + And the world for their healing is better to-day. + + He who lies where the minster's groined arches curve down + To the tomb-crowded transept of England's renown, + The glorious essayist, by genius enthroned, + Whose pen as a sceptre the Muses all owned,-- + + Who through the world's pantheon walked in his pride, + Setting new statues up, thrusting old ones aside, + And in fiction the pencils of history dipped, + To gild o'er or blacken each saint in his crypt,-- + + How vainly he labored to sully with blame + The white bust of Penn, in the niche of his fame! + Self-will is self-wounding, perversity blind + On himself fell the stain for the Quaker designed! + + For the sake of his true-hearted father before him; + For the sake of the dear Quaker mother that bore him; + For the sake of his gifts, and the works that outlive him, + And his brave words for freedom, we freely forgive him! + + There are those who take note that our numbers are small,-- + New Gibbons who write our decline and our fall; + But the Lord of the seed-field takes care of His own, + And the world shall yet reap what our sowers have sown. + + The last of the sect to his fathers may go, + Leaving only his coat for some Barnum to show; + But the truth will outlive him, and broaden with years, + Till the false dies away, and the wrong disappears. + + Nothing fails of its end. Out of sight sinks the stone, + In the deep sea of time, but the circles sweep on, + Till the low-rippled murmurs along the shores run, + And the dark and dead waters leap glad in the sun. + + Meanwhile shall we learn, in our ease, to forget + To the martyrs of Truth and of Freedom our debt?-- + Hide their words out of sight, like the garb that they wore, + And for Barclay's Apology offer one more? + + Shall we fawn round the priestcraft that glutted the shears, + And festooned the stocks with our grandfathers' ears? + Talk of Woolman's unsoundness? count Penn heterodox? + And take Cotton Mather in place of George Fox? + + Make our preachers war-chaplains? quote Scripture to take + The hunted slave back, for Onesimus' sake? + Go to burning church-candles, and chanting in choir, + And on the old meeting-house stick up a spire? + + No! the old paths we'll keep until better are shown, + Credit good where we find it, abroad or our own; + And while "Lo here" and "Lo there" the multitude call, + Be true to ourselves, and do justice to all. + + The good round about us we need not refuse, + Nor talk of our Zion as if we were Jews; + But why shirk the badge which our fathers have worn, + Or beg the world's pardon for having been born? + + We need not pray over the Pharisee's prayer, + Nor claim that our wisdom is Benjamin's share; + Truth to us and to others is equal and one + Shall we bottle the free air, or hoard up the sun? + + Well know we our birthright may serve but to show + How the meanest of weeds in the richest soil grow; + But we need not disparage the good which we hold; + Though the vessels be earthen, the treasure is gold! + + Enough and too much of the sect and the name. + What matters our label, so truth be our aim? + The creed may be wrong, but the life may be true, + And hearts beat the same under drab coats or blue. + + So the man be a man, let him worship, at will, + In Jerusalem's courts, or on Gerizim's hill. + When she makes up her jewels, what cares yon good town + For the Baptist of Wayland, the Quaker of Brown? + + And this green, favored island, so fresh and seablown, + When she counts up the worthies her annals have known, + Never waits for the pitiful gaugers of sect + To measure her love, and mete out her respect. + + Three shades at this moment seem walking her strand, + Each with head halo-crowned, and with palms in his hand,-- + Wise Berkeley, grave Hopkins, and, smiling serene + On prelate and puritan, Channing is seen. + + One holy name bearing, no longer they need + Credentials of party, and pass-words of creed + The new song they sing hath a threefold accord, + And they own one baptism, one faith, and one Lord! + + But the golden sands run out: occasions like these + Glide swift into shadow, like sails on the seas + While we sport with the mosses and pebbles ashore, + They lessen and fade, and we see them no more. + + Forgive me, dear friends, if my vagrant thoughts seem + Like a school-boy's who idles and plays with his theme. + Forgive the light measure whose changes display + The sunshine and rain of our brief April day. + + There are moments in life when the lip and the eye + Try the question of whether to smile or to cry; + And scenes and reunions that prompt like our own + The tender in feeling, the playful in tone. + + I, who never sat down with the boys and the girls + At the feet of your Slocums, and Cartlands, and Earles,-- + By courtesy only permitted to lay + On your festival's altar my poor gift, to-day,-- + + I would joy in your joy: let me have a friend's part + In the warmth of your welcome of hand and of heart,-- + On your play-ground of boyhood unbend the brow's care, + And shift the old burdens our shoulders must bear. + + Long live the good School! giving out year by year + Recruits to true manhood and womanhood dear + Brave boys, modest maidens, in beauty sent forth, + The living epistles and proof of its worth! + + In and out let the young life as steadily flow + As in broad Narragansett the tides come and go; + And its sons and its daughters in prairie and town + Remember its honor, and guard its renown. + + Not vainly the gift of its founder was made; + Not prayerless the stones of its corner were laid + The blessing of Him whom in secret they sought + Has owned the good work which the fathers have wrought. + + To Him be the glory forever! We bear + To the Lord of the Harvest our wheat with the tare. + What we lack in our work may He find in our will, + And winnow in mercy our good from the ill! + + + + +OUR RIVER. + +FOR A SUMMER FESTIVAL AT "THE LAURELS" ON THE MERRIMAC. + +Jean Pierre Brissot, the famous leader of the Girondist party in the +French Revolution, when a young man travelled extensively in the United +States. He visited the valley of the Merrimac, and speaks in terms of +admiration of the view from Moulton's hill opposite Amesbury. The +"Laurel Party" so called, as composed of ladies and gentlemen in the +lower valley of the Merrimac, and invited friends and guests in other +sections of the country. Its thoroughly enjoyable annual festivals were +held in the early summer on the pine-shaded, laurel-blossomed slopes of +the Newbury side of the river opposite Pleasant Valley in Amesbury. The +several poems called out by these gatherings are here printed in +sequence. + + + Once more on yonder laurelled height + The summer flowers have budded; + Once more with summer's golden light + The vales of home are flooded; + And once more, by the grace of Him + Of every good the Giver, + We sing upon its wooded rim + The praises of our river, + + Its pines above, its waves below, + The west-wind down it blowing, + As fair as when the young Brissot + Beheld it seaward flowing,-- + And bore its memory o'er the deep, + To soothe a martyr's sadness, + And fresco, hi his troubled sleep, + His prison-walls with gladness. + + We know the world is rich with streams + Renowned in song and story, + Whose music murmurs through our dreams + Of human love and glory + We know that Arno's banks are fair, + And Rhine has castled shadows, + And, poet-tuned, the Doon and Ayr + Go singing down their meadows. + + But while, unpictured and unsung + By painter or by poet, + Our river waits the tuneful tongue + And cunning hand to show it,-- + We only know the fond skies lean + Above it, warm with blessing, + And the sweet soul of our Undine + Awakes to our caressing. + + No fickle sun-god holds the flocks + That graze its shores in keeping; + No icy kiss of Dian mocks + The youth beside it sleeping + Our Christian river loveth most + The beautiful and human; + The heathen streams of Naiads boast, + But ours of man and woman. + + The miner in his cabin hears + The ripple we are hearing; + It whispers soft to homesick ears + Around the settler's clearing + In Sacramento's vales of corn, + Or Santee's bloom of cotton, + Our river by its valley-born + Was never yet forgotten. + + The drum rolls loud, the bugle fills + The summer air with clangor; + The war-storm shakes the solid hills + Beneath its tread of anger; + Young eyes that last year smiled in ours + Now point the rifle's barrel, + And hands then stained with fruits and flowers + Bear redder stains of quarrel. + + But blue skies smile, and flowers bloom on, + And rivers still keep flowing, + The dear God still his rain and sun + On good and ill bestowing. + His pine-trees whisper, "Trust and wait!" + His flowers are prophesying + That all we dread of change or fate + His live is underlying. + + And thou, O Mountain-born!--no more + We ask the wise Allotter + Than for the firmness of thy shore, + The calmness of thy water, + The cheerful lights that overlay, + Thy rugged slopes with beauty, + To match our spirits to our day + And make a joy of duty. + + 1861. + + + + +REVISITED. + +Read at "The Laurels," on the Merrimac, 6th month, 1865. + + + The roll of drums and the bugle's wailing + Vex the air of our vales-no more; + The spear is beaten to hooks of pruning, + The share is the sword the soldier wore! + + Sing soft, sing low, our lowland river, + Under thy banks of laurel bloom; + Softly and sweet, as the hour beseemeth, + Sing us the songs of peace and home. + + Let all the tenderer voices of nature + Temper the triumph and chasten mirth, + Full of the infinite love and pity + For fallen martyr and darkened hearth. + + But to Him who gives us beauty for ashes, + And the oil of joy for mourning long, + Let thy hills give thanks, and all thy waters + Break into jubilant waves of song! + + Bring us the airs of hills and forests, + The sweet aroma of birch and pine, + Give us a waft of the north-wind laden + With sweethrier odors and breath of kine! + + Bring us the purple of mountain sunsets, + Shadows of clouds that rake the hills, + The green repose of thy Plymouth meadows, + The gleam and ripple of Campton rills. + + Lead us away in shadow and sunshine, + Slaves of fancy, through all thy miles, + The winding ways of Pemigewasset, + And Winnipesaukee's hundred isles. + + Shatter in sunshine over thy ledges, + Laugh in thy plunges from fall to fall; + Play with thy fringes of elms, and darken + Under the shade of the mountain wall. + + The cradle-song of thy hillside fountains + Here in thy glory and strength repeat; + Give us a taste of thy upland music, + Show us the dance of thy silver feet. + + Into thy dutiful life of uses + Pour the music and weave the flowers; + With the song of birds and bloom of meadows + Lighten and gladden thy heart and ours. + + Sing on! bring down, O lowland river, + The joy of the hills to the waiting sea; + The wealth of the vales, the pomp of mountains, + The breath of the woodlands, bear with thee. + + Here, in the calm of thy seaward, valley, + Mirth and labor shall hold their truce; + Dance of water and mill of grinding, + Both are beauty and both are use. + + Type of the Northland's strength and glory, + Pride and hope of our home and race,-- + Freedom lending to rugged labor + Tints of beauty and lines of grace. + + Once again, O beautiful river, + Hear our greetings and take our thanks; + Hither we come, as Eastern pilgrims + Throng to the Jordan's sacred banks. + + For though by the Master's feet untrodden, + Though never His word has stilled thy waves, + Well for us may thy shores be holy, + With Christian altars and saintly graves. + + And well may we own thy hint and token + Of fairer valleys and streams than these, + Where the rivers of God are full of water, + And full of sap are His healing trees! + + + + +"THE LAURELS" + +At the twentieth and last anniversary. + + + FROM these wild rocks I look to-day + O'er leagues of dancing waves, and see + The far, low coast-line stretch away + To where our river meets the sea. + + The light wind blowing off the land + Is burdened with old voices; through + Shut eyes I see how lip and hand + The greeting of old days renew. + + O friends whose hearts still keep their prime, + Whose bright example warms and cheers, + Ye teach us how to smile at Time, + And set to music all his years! + + I thank you for sweet summer days, + For pleasant memories lingering long, + For joyful meetings, fond delays, + And ties of friendship woven strong. + + As for the last time, side by side, + You tread the paths familiar grown, + I reach across the severing tide, + And blend my farewells with your own. + + Make room, O river of our home! + For other feet in place of ours, + And in the summers yet to come, + Make glad another Feast of Flowers! + + Hold in thy mirror, calm and deep, + The pleasant pictures thou hast seen; + Forget thy lovers not, but keep + Our memory like thy laurels green. + + ISLES of SHOALS, 7th mo., 1870. + + + + +JUNE ON THE MERRIMAC. + + O dwellers in the stately towns, + What come ye out to see? + This common earth, this common sky, + This water flowing free? + + As gayly as these kalmia flowers + Your door-yard blossoms spring; + As sweetly as these wild-wood birds + Your caged minstrels sing. + + You find but common bloom and green, + The rippling river's rune, + The beauty which is everywhere + Beneath the skies of June; + + The Hawkswood oaks, the storm-torn plumes + Of old pine-forest kings, + Beneath whose century-woven shade + Deer Island's mistress sings. + + And here are pictured Artichoke, + And Curson's bowery mill; + And Pleasant Valley smiles between + The river and the hill. + + You know full well these banks of bloom, + The upland's wavy line, + And how the sunshine tips with fire + The needles of the pine. + + Yet, like some old remembered psalm, + Or sweet, familiar face, + Not less because of commonness + You love the day and place. + + And not in vain in this soft air + Shall hard-strung nerves relax, + Not all in vain the o'erworn brain + Forego its daily tax. + + The lust of power, the greed of gain + Have all the year their own; + The haunting demons well may let + Our one bright day alone. + + Unheeded let the newsboy call, + Aside the ledger lay + The world will keep its treadmill step + Though we fall out to-day. + + The truants of life's weary school, + Without excuse from thrift + We change for once the gains of toil + For God's unpurchased gift. + + From ceiled rooms, from silent books, + From crowded car and town, + Dear Mother Earth, upon thy lap, + We lay our tired heads down. + + Cool, summer wind, our heated brows; + Blue river, through the green + Of clustering pines, refresh the eyes + Which all too much have seen. + + For us these pleasant woodland ways + Are thronged with memories old, + Have felt the grasp of friendly hands + And heard love's story told. + + A sacred presence overbroods + The earth whereon we meet; + These winding forest-paths are trod + By more than mortal feet. + + Old friends called from us by the voice + Which they alone could hear, + From mystery to mystery, + From life to life, draw near. + + More closely for the sake of them + Each other's hands we press; + Our voices take from them a tone + Of deeper tenderness. + + Our joy is theirs, their trust is ours, + Alike below, above, + Or here or there, about us fold + The arms of one great love! + + We ask to-day no countersign, + No party names we own; + Unlabelled, individual, + We bring ourselves alone. + + What cares the unconventioned wood + For pass-words of the town? + The sound of fashion's shibboleth + The laughing waters drown. + + Here cant forgets his dreary tone, + And care his face forlorn; + The liberal air and sunshine laugh + The bigot's zeal to scorn. + + From manhood's weary shoulder falls + His load of selfish cares; + And woman takes her rights as flowers + And brooks and birds take theirs. + + The license of the happy woods, + The brook's release are ours; + The freedom of the unshamed wind + Among the glad-eyed flowers. + + Yet here no evil thought finds place, + Nor foot profane comes in; + Our grove, like that of Samothrace, + Is set apart from sin. + + We walk on holy ground; above + A sky more holy smiles; + The chant of the beatitudes + Swells down these leafy aisles. + + Thanks to the gracious Providence + That brings us here once more; + For memories of the good behind + And hopes of good before. + + And if, unknown to us, sweet days + Of June like this must come, + Unseen of us these laurels clothe + The river-banks with bloom; + + And these green paths must soon be trod + By other feet than ours, + Full long may annual pilgrims come + To keep the Feast of Flowers; + + The matron be a girl once more, + The bearded man a boy, + And we, in heaven's eternal June, + Be glad for earthly joy! + + 1876. + + + + +HYMN + +FOR THE OPENING OF THOMAS STARR KING'S HOUSE OF WORSHIP, 1864. + +The poetic and patriotic preacher, who had won fame in the East, went to +California in 1860 and became a power on the Pacific coast. It was not +long after the opening of the house of worship built for him that he +died. + + + Amidst these glorious works of Thine, + The solemn minarets of the pine, + And awful Shasta's icy shrine,-- + + Where swell Thy hymns from wave and gale, + And organ-thunders never fail, + Behind the cataract's silver veil, + + Our puny walls to Thee we raise, + Our poor reed-music sounds Thy praise: + Forgive, O Lord, our childish ways! + + For, kneeling on these altar-stairs, + We urge Thee not with selfish prayers, + Nor murmur at our daily cares. + + Before Thee, in an evil day, + Our country's bleeding heart we lay, + And dare not ask Thy hand to stay; + + But, through the war-cloud, pray to Thee + For union, but a union free, + With peace that comes of purity! + + That Thou wilt bare Thy arm to, save + And, smiting through this Red Sea wave, + Make broad a pathway for the slave! + + For us, confessing all our need, + We trust nor rite nor word nor deed, + Nor yet the broken staff of creed. + + Assured alone that Thou art good + To each, as to the multitude, + Eternal Love and Fatherhood,-- + + Weak, sinful, blind, to Thee we kneel, + Stretch dumbly forth our hands, and feel + Our weakness is our strong appeal. + + So, by these Western gates of Even + We wait to see with Thy forgiven + The opening Golden Gate of Heaven! + + Suffice it now. In time to be + Shall holier altars rise to Thee,-- + Thy Church our broad humanity + + White flowers of love its walls shall climb, + Soft bells of peace shall ring its chime, + Its days shall all be holy time. + + A sweeter song shall then be heard,-- + The music of the world's accord + Confessing Christ, the Inward Word! + + That song shall swell from shore to shore, + One hope, one faith, one love, restore + The seamless robe that Jesus wore. + + + + +HYMN + +FOR THE HOUSE OF WORSHIP AT GEORGETOWN, +ERECTED IN MEMORY OF A MOTHER. + +The giver of the house was the late George Peabody, of London. + + + Thou dwellest not, O Lord of all + In temples which thy children raise; + Our work to thine is mean and small, + And brief to thy eternal days. + + Forgive the weakness and the pride, + If marred thereby our gift may be, + For love, at least, has sanctified + The altar that we rear to thee. + + The heart and not the hand has wrought + From sunken base to tower above + The image of a tender thought, + The memory of a deathless love! + + And though should never sound of speech + Or organ echo from its wall, + Its stones would pious lessons teach, + Its shade in benedictions fall. + + Here should the dove of peace be found, + And blessings and not curses given; + Nor strife profane, nor hatred wound, + The mingled loves of earth and heaven. + + Thou, who didst soothe with dying breath + The dear one watching by Thy cross, + Forgetful of the pains of death + In sorrow for her mighty loss, + + In memory of that tender claim, + O Mother-born, the offering take, + And make it worthy of Thy name, + And bless it for a mother's sake! + + 1868. + + + + +A SPIRITUAL MANIFESTATION. + +Read at the President's Levee, Brown University, 29th 6th month, 1870. + + + To-day the plant by Williams set + Its summer bloom discloses; + The wilding sweethrier of his prayers + Is crowned with cultured roses. + + Once more the Island State repeats + The lesson that he taught her, + And binds his pearl of charity + Upon her brown-locked daughter. + + Is 't fancy that he watches still + His Providence plantations? + That still the careful Founder takes + A part on these occasions. + + Methinks I see that reverend form, + Which all of us so well know + He rises up to speak; he jogs + The presidential elbow. + + "Good friends," he says, "you reap a field + I sowed in self-denial, + For toleration had its griefs + And charity its trial. + + "Great grace, as saith Sir Thomas More, + To him must needs be given + Who heareth heresy and leaves + The heretic to Heaven! + + "I hear again the snuffled tones, + I see in dreary vision + Dyspeptic dreamers, spiritual bores, + And prophets with a mission. + + "Each zealot thrust before my eyes + His Scripture-garbled label; + All creeds were shouted in my ears + As with the tongues of Babel. + + "Scourged at one cart-tail, each denied + The hope of every other; + Each martyr shook his branded fist + At the conscience of his brother! + + "How cleft the dreary drone of man. + The shriller pipe of woman, + As Gorton led his saints elect, + Who held all things in common! + + "Their gay robes trailed in ditch and swamp, + And torn by thorn and thicket, + The dancing-girls of Merry Mount + Came dragging to my wicket. + + "Shrill Anabaptists, shorn of ears; + Gray witch-wives, hobbling slowly; + And Antinomians, free of law, + Whose very sins were holy. + + "Hoarse ranters, crazed Fifth Monarchists, + Of stripes and bondage braggarts, + Pale Churchmen, with singed rubrics snatched + From Puritanic fagots. + + "And last, not least, the Quakers came, + With tongues still sore from burning, + The Bay State's dust from off their feet + Before my threshold spurning; + + "A motley host, the Lord's debris, + Faith's odds and ends together; + Well might I shrink from guests with lungs + Tough as their breeches leather + + "If, when the hangman at their heels + Came, rope in hand to catch them, + I took the hunted outcasts in, + I never sent to fetch them. + + "I fed, but spared them not a whit; + I gave to all who walked in, + Not clams and succotash alone, + But stronger meat of doctrine. + + "I proved the prophets false, I pricked + The bubble of perfection, + And clapped upon their inner light + The snuffers of election. + + "And looking backward on my times, + This credit I am taking; + I kept each sectary's dish apart, + No spiritual chowder making. + + "Where now the blending signs of sect + Would puzzle their assorter, + The dry-shod Quaker kept the land, + The Baptist held the water. + + "A common coat now serves for both, + The hat's no more a fixture; + And which was wet and which was dry, + Who knows in such a mixture? + + "Well! He who fashioned Peter's dream + To bless them all is able; + And bird and beast and creeping thing + Make clean upon His table! + + "I walked by my own light; but when + The ways of faith divided, + Was I to force unwilling feet + To tread the path that I did? + + "I touched the garment-hem of truth, + Yet saw not all its splendor; + I knew enough of doubt to feel + For every conscience tender. + + "God left men free of choice, as when + His Eden-trees were planted; + Because they chose amiss, should I + Deny the gift He granted? + + "So, with a common sense of need, + Our common weakness feeling, + I left them with myself to God + And His all-gracious dealing! + + "I kept His plan whose rain and sun + To tare and wheat are given; + And if the ways to hell were free, + I left then free to heaven!" + + Take heart with us, O man of old, + Soul-freedom's brave confessor, + So love of God and man wax strong, + Let sect and creed be lesser. + + The jarring discords of thy day + In ours one hymn are swelling; + The wandering feet, the severed paths, + All seek our Father's dwelling. + + And slowly learns the world the truth + That makes us all thy debtor,-- + That holy life is more than rite, + And spirit more than letter; + + That they who differ pole-wide serve + Perchance the common Master, + And other sheep He hath than they + Who graze one narrow pasture! + + For truth's worst foe is he who claims + To act as God's avenger, + And deems, beyond his sentry-beat, + The crystal walls in danger! + + Who sets for heresy his traps + Of verbal quirk and quibble, + And weeds the garden of the Lord + With Satan's borrowed dibble. + + To-day our hearts like organ keys + One Master's touch are feeling; + The branches of a common Vine + Have only leaves of healing. + + Co-workers, yet from varied fields, + We share this restful nooning; + The Quaker with the Baptist here + Believes in close communing. + + Forgive, dear saint, the playful tone, + Too light for thy deserving; + Thanks for thy generous faith in man, + Thy trust in God unswerving. + + Still echo in the hearts of men + The words that thou hast spoken; + No forge of hell can weld again + The fetters thou hast broken. + + The pilgrim needs a pass no more + From Roman or Genevan; + Thought-free, no ghostly tollman keeps + Henceforth the road to Heaven! + + + + +CHICAGO + +The great fire at Chicago was on 8-10 October, 1871. + + + Men said at vespers: "All is well!" + In one wild night the city fell; + Fell shrines of prayer and marts of gain + Before the fiery hurricane. + + On threescore spires had sunset shone, + Where ghastly sunrise looked on none. + Men clasped each other's hands, and said + "The City of the West is dead!" + + Brave hearts who fought, in slow retreat, + The fiends of fire from street to street, + Turned, powerless, to the blinding glare, + The dumb defiance of despair. + + A sudden impulse thrilled each wire + That signalled round that sea of fire; + Swift words of cheer, warm heart-throbs came; + In tears of pity died the flame! + + From East, from West, from South and North, + The messages of hope shot forth, + And, underneath the severing wave, + The world, full-handed, reached to save. + + Fair seemed the old; but fairer still + The new, the dreary void shall fill + With dearer homes than those o'erthrown, + For love shall lay each corner-stone. + + Rise, stricken city! from thee throw + The ashen sackcloth of thy woe; + And build, as to Amphion's strain, + To songs of cheer thy walls again! + + How shrivelled in thy hot distress + The primal sin of selfishness! + How instant rose, to take thy part, + The angel in the human heart! + + Ah! not in vain the flames that tossed + Above thy dreadful holocaust; + The Christ again has preached through thee + The Gospel of Humanity! + + Then lift once more thy towers on high, + And fret with spires the western sky, + To tell that God is yet with us, + And love is still miraculous! + + 1871. + + + + +KINSMAN. + +Died at the Island of Panay (Philippine group), aged nineteen years. + + + Where ceaseless Spring her garland twines, + As sweetly shall the loved one rest, + As if beneath the whispering pines + And maple shadows of the West. + + Ye mourn, O hearts of home! for him, + But, haply, mourn ye not alone; + For him shall far-off eyes be dim, + And pity speak in tongues unknown. + + There needs no graven line to give + The story of his blameless youth; + All hearts shall throb intuitive, + And nature guess the simple truth. + + The very meaning of his name + Shall many a tender tribute win; + The stranger own his sacred claim, + And all the world shall be his kin. + + And there, as here, on main and isle, + The dews of holy peace shall fall, + The same sweet heavens above him smile, + And God's dear love be over all + 1874. + + + + +THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD. + +Longwood, not far from Bayard Taylor's birthplace in Kennett Square, +Pennsylvania, was the home of my esteemed friends John and Hannah Cox, +whose golden wedding was celebrated in 1874. + + + With fifty years between you and your well-kept wedding vow, + The Golden Age, old friends of mine, is not a fable now. + + And, sweet as has life's vintage been through all your pleasant past, + Still, as at Cana's marriage-feast, the best wine is the last! + + Again before me, with your names, fair Chester's landscape comes, + Its meadows, woods, and ample barns, and quaint, stone-builded homes. + + The smooth-shorn vales, the wheaten slopes, the boscage green and soft, + Of which their poet sings so well from towered Cedarcroft. + + And lo! from all the country-side come neighbors, kith and kin; + From city, hamlet, farm-house old, the wedding guests come in. + + And they who, without scrip or purse, mob-hunted, travel-worn, + In Freedom's age of martyrs came, as victors now return. + + Older and slower, yet the same, files in the long array, + And hearts are light and eyes are glad, though heads are badger-gray. + + The fire-tried men of Thirty-eight who saw with me the fall, + Midst roaring flames and shouting mob, of Pennsylvania Hall; + + And they of Lancaster who turned the cheeks of tyrants pale, + Singing of freedom through the grates of Moyamensing jail! + + And haply with them, all unseen, old comrades, gone before, + Pass, silently as shadows pass, within your open door,-- + + The eagle face of Lindley Coates, brave Garrett's daring zeal, + Christian grace of Pennock, the steadfast heart of Neal. + + Ah me! beyond all power to name, the worthies tried and true, + Grave men, fair women, youth and maid, pass by in hushed review. + + Of varying faiths, a common cause fused all their hearts in one. + God give them now, whate'er their names, the peace of duty done! + + How gladly would I tread again the old-remembered places, + Sit down beside your hearth once more and look in the dear old faces! + + And thank you for the lessons your fifty years are teaching, + For honest lives that louder speak than half our noisy preaching; + + For your steady faith and courage in that dark and evil time, + When the Golden Rule was treason, and to feed the hungry, crime; + + For the poor slave's house of refuge when the hounds were on his track, + And saint and sinner, church and state, joined hands to send him back. + + Blessings upon you!--What you did for each sad, suffering one, + So homeless, faint, and naked, unto our Lord was done! + + Fair fall on Kennett's pleasant vales and Longwood's bowery ways + The mellow sunset of your lives, friends of my early days. + + May many more of quiet years be added to your sum, + And, late at last, in tenderest love, the beckoning angel come. + + Dear hearts are here, dear hearts are there, alike below, above; + Our friends are now in either world, and love is sure of love. + + 1874. + + + + +HYMN FOR THE OPENING OF PLYMOUTH CHURCH, ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA. + + All things are Thine: no gift have we, + Lord of all gifts, to offer Thee; + And hence with grateful hearts to-day, + Thy own before Thy feet we lay. + + Thy will was in the builders' thought; + Thy hand unseen amidst us wrought; + Through mortal motive, scheme and plan, + Thy wise eternal purpose ran. + + No lack Thy perfect fulness knew; + For human needs and longings grew + This house of prayer, this home of rest, + In the fair garden of the West. + + In weakness and in want we call + On Thee for whom the heavens are small; + Thy glory is Thy children's good, + Thy joy Thy tender Fatherhood. + + O Father! deign these walls to bless, + Fill with Thy love their emptiness, + And let their door a gateway be + To lead us from ourselves to Thee! + + 1872. + + + + +LEXINGTON 1775. + + No Berserk thirst of blood had they, + No battle-joy was theirs, who set + Against the alien bayonet + Their homespun breasts in that old day. + + Their feet had trodden peaceful, ways; + They loved not strife, they dreaded pain; + They saw not, what to us is plain, + That God would make man's wrath his praise. + + No seers were they, but simple men; + Its vast results the future hid + The meaning of the work they did + Was strange and dark and doubtful then. + + Swift as their summons came they left + The plough mid-furrow standing still, + The half-ground corn grist in the mill, + The spade in earth, the axe in cleft. + + They went where duty seemed to call, + They scarcely asked the reason why; + They only knew they could but die, + And death was not the worst of all! + + Of man for man the sacrifice, + All that was theirs to give, they gave. + The flowers that blossomed from their grave + Have sown themselves beneath all skies. + + Their death-shot shook the feudal tower, + And shattered slavery's chain as well; + On the sky's dome, as on a bell, + Its echo struck the world's great hour. + + That fateful echo is not dumb + The nations listening to its sound + Wait, from a century's vantage-ground, + The holier triumphs yet to come,-- + + The bridal time of Law and Love, + The gladness of the world's release, + When, war-sick, at the feet of Peace + The hawk shall nestle with the dove!-- + + The golden age of brotherhood + Unknown to other rivalries + Than of the mild humanities, + And gracious interchange of good, + + When closer strand shall lean to strand, + Till meet, beneath saluting flags, + The eagle of our mountain-crags, + The lion of our Motherland! + + 1875. + + + + +THE LIBRARY. + +Sung at the opening of the Haverhill Library, November 11, 1875. + + + "Let there be light!" God spake of old, + And over chaos dark and cold, + And through the dead and formless frame + Of nature, life and order came. + + Faint was the light at first that shone + On giant fern and mastodon, + On half-formed plant and beast of prey, + And man as rude and wild as they. + + Age after age, like waves, o'erran + The earth, uplifting brute and man; + And mind, at length, in symbols dark + Its meanings traced on stone and bark. + + On leaf of palm, on sedge-wrought roll, + On plastic clay and leathern scroll, + Man wrote his thoughts; the ages passed, + And to! the Press was found at last! + + Then dead souls woke; the thoughts of men + Whose bones were dust revived again; + The cloister's silence found a tongue, + Old prophets spake, old poets sung. + + And here, to-day, the dead look down, + The kings of mind again we crown; + We hear the voices lost so long, + The sage's word, the sibyl's song. + + Here Greek and Roman find themselves + Alive along these crowded shelves; + And Shakespeare treads again his stage, + And Chaucer paints anew his age. + + As if some Pantheon's marbles broke + Their stony trance, and lived and spoke, + Life thrills along the alcoved hall, + The lords of thought await our call! + + + + +"I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN." + +An incident in St. Augustine, Florida. + + + 'Neath skies that winter never knew + The air was full of light and balm, + And warm and soft the Gulf wind blew + Through orange bloom and groves of palm. + + A stranger from the frozen North, + Who sought the fount of health in vain, + Sank homeless on the alien earth, + And breathed the languid air with pain. + + God's angel came! The tender shade + Of pity made her blue eye dim; + Against her woman's breast she laid + The drooping, fainting head of him. + + She bore him to a pleasant room, + Flower-sweet and cool with salt sea air, + And watched beside his bed, for whom + His far-off sisters might not care. + + She fanned his feverish brow and smoothed + Its lines of pain with tenderest touch. + With holy hymn and prayer she soothed + The trembling soul that feared so much. + + Through her the peace that passeth sight + Came to him, as he lapsed away + As one whose troubled dreams of night + Slide slowly into tranquil day. + + The sweetness of the Land of Flowers + Upon his lonely grave she laid + The jasmine dropped its golden showers, + The orange lent its bloom and shade. + + And something whispered in her thought, + More sweet than mortal voices be + "The service thou for him hast wrought + O daughter! hath been done for me." + + 1875. + + + + +CENTENNIAL HYMN. + +Written for the opening of the International Exhibition, Philadelphia, +May 10, 1876. The music for the hymn was written by John K. Paine, and +may be found in The Atlantic Monthly for June, 1876. + + + I. + Our fathers' God! from out whose hand + The centuries fall like grains of sand, + We meet to-day, united, free, + And loyal to our land and Thee, + To thank Thee for the era done, + And trust Thee for the opening one. + + II. + Here, where of old, by Thy design, + The fathers spake that word of Thine + Whose echo is the glad refrain + Of rended bolt and falling chain, + To grace our festal time, from all + The zones of earth our guests we call. + + III. + Be with us while the New World greets + The Old World thronging all its streets, + Unveiling all the triumphs won + By art or toil beneath the sun; + And unto common good ordain + This rivalship of hand and brain. + + IV. + Thou, who hast here in concord furled + The war flags of a gathered world, + Beneath our Western skies fulfil + The Orient's mission of good-will, + And, freighted with love's Golden Fleece, + Send back its Argonauts of peace. + + V. + For art and labor met in truce, + For beauty made the bride of use, + We thank Thee; but, withal, we crave + The austere virtues strong to save, + The honor proof to place or gold, + The manhood never bought nor sold. + + VI. + Oh make Thou us, through centuries long, + In peace secure, in justice strong; + Around our gift of freedom draw + The safeguards of Thy righteous law + And, cast in some diviner mould, + Let the new cycle shame the old! + + + + +AT SCHOOL-CLOSE. BOWDOIN STREET, BOSTON, 1877. + + The end has come, as come it must + To all things; in these sweet June days + The teacher and the scholar trust + Their parting feet to separate ways. + + They part: but in the years to be + Shall pleasant memories cling to each, + As shells bear inland from the sea + The murmur of the rhythmic beach. + + One knew the joy the sculptor knows + When, plastic to his lightest touch, + His clay-wrought model slowly grows + To that fine grace desired so much. + + So daily grew before her eyes + The living shapes whereon she wrought, + Strong, tender, innocently wise, + The child's heart with the woman's thought. + + And one shall never quite forget + The voice that called from dream and play, + The firm but kindly hand that set + Her feet in learning's pleasant way,-- + + The joy of Undine soul-possessed, + The wakening sense, the strange delight + That swelled the fabled statue's breast + And filled its clouded eyes with sight. + + O Youth and Beauty, loved of all! + Ye pass from girlhood's gate of dreams; + In broader ways your footsteps fall, + Ye test the truth of all that seams. + + Her little realm the teacher leaves, + She breaks her wand of power apart, + While, for your love and trust, she gives + The warm thanks of a grateful heart. + + Hers is the sober summer noon + Contrasted with your morn of spring, + The waning with the waxing moon, + The folded with the outspread wing. + + Across the distance of the years + She sends her God-speed back to you; + She has no thought of doubts or fears + Be but yourselves, be pure, be true, + + And prompt in duty; heed the deep, + Low voice of conscience; through the ill + And discord round about you, keep + Your faith in human nature still. + + Be gentle: unto griefs and needs, + Be pitiful as woman should, + And, spite of all the lies of creeds, + Hold fast the truth that God is good. + + Give and receive; go forth and bless + The world that needs the hand and heart + Of Martha's helpful carefulness + No less than Mary's better part. + + So shall the stream of time flow by + And leave each year a richer good, + And matron loveliness outvie + The nameless charm of maidenhood. + + And, when the world shall link your names + With gracious lives and manners fine, + The teacher shall assert her claims, + And proudly whisper, "These were mine!" + + + + +HYMN OF THE CHILDREN. + +Sung at the anniversary of the Children's Mission, Boston, 1878. + + + Thine are all the gifts, O God! + Thine the broken bread; + Let the naked feet be shod, + And the starving fed. + + Let Thy children, by Thy grace, + Give as they abound, + Till the poor have breathing-space, + And the lost are found. + + Wiser than the miser's hoards + Is the giver's choice; + Sweeter than the song of birds + Is the thankful voice. + + Welcome smiles on faces sad + As the flowers of spring; + Let the tender hearts be glad + With the joy they bring. + + Happier for their pity's sake + Make their sports and plays, + And from lips of childhood take + Thy perfected praise! + + + + +THE LANDMARKS. + +This poem was read at a meeting of citizens of Boston having for its +object the preservation of the Old South Church famous in Colonial and +Revolutionary history. + + + I. + THROUGH the streets of Marblehead + Fast the red-winged terror sped; + + Blasting, withering, on it came, + With its hundred tongues of flame, + + Where St. Michael's on its way + Stood like chained Andromeda, + + Waiting on the rock, like her, + Swift doom or deliverer! + + Church that, after sea-moss grew + Over walls no longer new, + + Counted generations five, + Four entombed and one alive; + + Heard the martial thousand tread + Battleward from Marblehead; + + Saw within the rock-walled bay + Treville's liked pennons play, + + And the fisher's dory met + By the barge of Lafayette, + + Telling good news in advance + Of the coming fleet of France! + + Church to reverend memories, dear, + Quaint in desk and chandelier; + + Bell, whose century-rusted tongue + Burials tolled and bridals rung; + + Loft, whose tiny organ kept + Keys that Snetzler's hand had swept; + + Altar, o'er whose tablet old + Sinai's law its thunders rolled! + + Suddenly the sharp cry came + "Look! St. Michael's is aflame!" + + Round the low tower wall the fire + Snake-like wound its coil of ire. + + Sacred in its gray respect + From the jealousies of sect, + + "Save it," seemed the thought of all, + "Save it, though our roof-trees fall!" + + Up the tower the young men sprung; + One, the bravest, outward swung + + By the rope, whose kindling strands + Smoked beneath the holder's hands, + + Smiting down with strokes of power + Burning fragments from the tower. + + Then the gazing crowd beneath + Broke the painful pause of breath; + + Brave men cheered from street to street, + With home's ashes at their feet; + + Houseless women kerchiefs waved: + "Thank the Lord! St. Michael's saved!" + + II. + In the heart of Boston town + Stands the church of old renown, + + From whose walls the impulse went + Which set free a continent; + + From whose pulpit's oracle + Prophecies of freedom fell; + + And whose steeple-rocking din + Rang the nation's birth-day in! + + Standing at this very hour + Perilled like St. Michael's tower, + + Held not in the clasp of flame, + But by mammon's grasping claim. + + Shall it be of Boston said + She is shamed by Marblehead? + + City of our pride! as there, + Hast thou none to do and dare? + + Life was risked for Michael's shrine; + Shall not wealth be staked for thine? + + Woe to thee, when men shall search + Vainly for the Old South Church; + + When from Neck to Boston Stone, + All thy pride of place is gone; + + When from Bay and railroad car, + Stretched before them wide and far, + + Men shall only see a great + Wilderness of brick and slate, + + Every holy spot o'erlaid + By the commonplace of trade! + + City of our love': to thee + Duty is but destiny. + + True to all thy record saith, + Keep with thy traditions faith; + + Ere occasion's overpast, + Hold its flowing forelock fast; + + Honor still the precedents + Of a grand munificence; + + In thy old historic way + Give, as thou didst yesterday + + At the South-land's call, or on + Need's demand from fired St. John. + + Set thy Church's muffled bell + Free the generous deed to tell. + + Let thy loyal hearts rejoice + In the glad, sonorous voice, + + Ringing from the brazen mouth + Of the bell of the Old South,-- + + Ringing clearly, with a will, + "What she was is Boston still!" + + 1879 + + + + +GARDEN + +The American Horticultural Society, 1882. + + + O painter of the fruits and flowers, + We own wise design, + Where these human hands of ours + May share work of Thine! + + Apart from Thee we plant in vain + The root and sow the seed; + Thy early and Thy later rain, + Thy sun and dew we need. + + Our toil is sweet with thankfulness, + Our burden is our boon; + The curse of Earth's gray morning is + The blessing of its noon. + + Why search the wide world everywhere + For Eden's unknown ground? + That garden of the primal pair + May nevermore be found. + + But, blest by Thee, our patient toil + May right the ancient wrong, + And give to every clime and soil + The beauty lost so long. + + Our homestead flowers and fruited trees + May Eden's orchard shame; + We taste the tempting sweets of these + Like Eve, without her blame. + + And, North and South and East and West, + The pride of every zone, + The fairest, rarest, and the best + May all be made our own. + + Its earliest shrines the young world sought + In hill-groves and in bowers, + The fittest offerings thither brought + Were Thy own fruits and flowers. + + And still with reverent hands we cull + Thy gifts each year renewed; + The good is always beautiful, + The beautiful is good. + + + + +A GREETING + +Read at Harriet Beecher Stowe's seventieth anniversary, June 14, 1882, +at a garden party at ex-Governor Claflin's in Newtonville, Mass. + + + Thrice welcome from the Land of Flowers + And golden-fruited orange bowers + To this sweet, green-turfed June of ours! + To her who, in our evil time, + Dragged into light the nation's crime + With strength beyond the strength of men, + And, mightier than their swords, her pen! + To her who world-wide entrance gave + To the log-cabin of the slave; + Made all his wrongs and sorrows known, + And all earth's languages his own,-- + North, South, and East and West, made all + The common air electrical, + Until the o'ercharged bolts of heaven + Blazed down, and every chain was riven! + + Welcome from each and all to her + Whose Wooing of the Minister + Revealed the warm heart of the man + Beneath the creed-bound Puritan, + And taught the kinship of the love + Of man below and God above; + To her whose vigorous pencil-strokes + Sketched into life her Oldtown Folks; + Whose fireside stories, grave or gay, + In quaint Sam Lawson's vagrant way, + With old New England's flavor rife, + Waifs from her rude idyllic life, + Are racy as the legends old + By Chaucer or Boccaccio told; + To her who keeps, through change of place + And time, her native strength and grace, + Alike where warm Sorrento smiles, + Or where, by birchen-shaded isles, + Whose summer winds have shivered o'er + The icy drift of Labrador, + She lifts to light the priceless Pearl + Of Harpswell's angel-beckoned girl! + To her at threescore years and ten + Be tributes of the tongue and pen; + Be honor, praise, and heart-thanks given, + The loves of earth, the hopes of heaven! + + Ah, dearer than the praise that stirs + The air to-day, our love is hers! + She needs no guaranty of fame + Whose own is linked with Freedom's name. + Long ages after ours shall keep + Her memory living while we sleep; + The waves that wash our gray coast lines, + The winds that rock the Southern pines, + Shall sing of her; the unending years + Shall tell her tale in unborn ears. + And when, with sins and follies past, + Are numbered color-hate and caste, + White, black, and red shall own as one + The noblest work by woman done. + + + + +GODSPEED + +Written on the occasion of a voyage made by my friends Annie Fields and +Sarah Orne Jewett. + + + Outbound, your bark awaits you. Were I one + Whose prayer availeth much, my wish should be + Your favoring trade-wind and consenting sea. + By sail or steed was never love outrun, + And, here or there, love follows her in whom + All graces and sweet charities unite, + The old Greek beauty set in holier light; + And her for whom New England's byways bloom, + Who walks among us welcome as the Spring, + Calling up blossoms where her light feet stray. + God keep you both, make beautiful your way, + Comfort, console, and bless; and safely bring, + Ere yet I make upon a vaster sea + The unreturning voyage, my friends to me. + + 1882. + + + + +WINTER ROSES. + +In reply to a flower gift from Mrs. Putnam's school at Jamaica Plain. + + + My garden roses long ago + Have perished from the leaf-strewn walks; + Their pale, fair sisters smile no more + Upon the sweet-brier stalks. + + Gone with the flower-time of my life, + Spring's violets, summer's blooming pride, + And Nature's winter and my own + Stand, flowerless, side by side. + + So might I yesterday have sung; + To-day, in bleak December's noon, + Come sweetest fragrance, shapes, and hues, + The rosy wealth of June! + + Bless the young bands that culled the gift, + And bless the hearts that prompted it; + If undeserved it comes, at least + It seems not all unfit. + + Of old my Quaker ancestors + Had gifts of forty stripes save one; + To-day as many roses crown + The gray head of their son. + + And with them, to my fancy's eye, + The fresh-faced givers smiling come, + And nine and thirty happy girls + Make glad a lonely room. + + They bring the atmosphere of youth; + The light and warmth of long ago + Are in my heart, and on my cheek + The airs of morning blow. + + O buds of girlhood, yet unblown, + And fairer than the gift ye chose, + For you may years like leaves unfold + The heart of Sharon's rose. + + 1883. + + + + +THE REUNION + +Read September 10, 1885, to the surviving students of Haverhill Academy +in 1827-1830. + + + The gulf of seven and fifty years + We stretch our welcoming hands across; + The distance but a pebble's toss + Between us and our youth appears. + + For in life's school we linger on + The remnant of a once full list; + Conning our lessons, undismissed, + With faces to the setting sun. + + And some have gone the unknown way, + And some await the call to rest; + Who knoweth whether it is best + For those who went or those who stay? + + And yet despite of loss and ill, + If faith and love and hope remain, + Our length of days is not in vain, + And life is well worth living still. + + Still to a gracious Providence + The thanks of grateful hearts are due, + For blessings when our lives were new, + For all the good vouchsafed us since. + + The pain that spared us sorer hurt, + The wish denied, the purpose crossed, + And pleasure's fond occasions lost, + Were mercies to our small desert. + + 'T is something that we wander back, + Gray pilgrims, to our ancient ways, + And tender memories of old days + Walk with us by the Merrimac; + + That even in life's afternoon + A sense of youth comes back again, + As through this cool September rain + The still green woodlands dream of June. + + The eyes grown dim to present things + Have keener sight for bygone years, + And sweet and clear, in deafening ears, + The bird that sang at morning sings. + + Dear comrades, scattered wide and far, + Send from their homes their kindly word, + And dearer ones, unseen, unheard, + Smile on us from some heavenly star. + + For life and death with God are one, + Unchanged by seeming change His care + And love are round us here and there; + He breaks no thread His hand has spun. + + Soul touches soul, the muster roll + Of life eternal has no gaps; + And after half a century's lapse + Our school-day ranks are closed and whole. + + Hail and farewell! We go our way; + Where shadows end, we trust in light; + The star that ushers in the night + Is herald also of the day! + + + + +NORUMBEGA HALL. + +Norumbega Hall at Wellesley College, named in honor of Eben Norton +Horsford, who has been one of the most munificent patrons of that noble +institution, and who had just published an essay claiming the discovery +of the site of the somewhat mythical city of Norumbega, was opened with +appropriate ceremonies, in April, 1886. The following sonnet was written +for the occasion, and was read by President Alice E. Freeman, to whom it +was addressed. + + + Not on Penobscot's wooded bank the spires + Of the sought City rose, nor yet beside + The winding Charles, nor where the daily tide + Of Naumkeag's haven rises and retires, + The vision tarried; but somewhere we knew + The beautiful gates must open to our quest, + Somewhere that marvellous City of the West + Would lift its towers and palace domes in view, + And, to! at last its mystery is made known-- + Its only dwellers maidens fair and young, + Its Princess such as England's Laureate sung; + And safe from capture, save by love alone, + It lends its beauty to the lake's green shore, + And Norumbega is a myth no more. + + + + +THE BARTHOLDI STATUE 1886 + + The land, that, from the rule of kings, + In freeing us, itself made free, + Our Old World Sister, to us brings + Her sculptured Dream of Liberty, + + Unlike the shapes on Egypt's sands + Uplifted by the toil-worn slave, + On Freedom's soil with freemen's hands + We rear the symbol free hands gave. + + O France, the beautiful! to thee + Once more a debt of love we owe + In peace beneath thy Colors Three, + We hail a later Rochambeau! + + Rise, stately Symbol! holding forth + Thy light and hope to all who sit + In chains and darkness! Belt the earth + With watch-fires from thy torch uplit! + + Reveal the primal mandate still + Which Chaos heard and ceased to be, + Trace on mid-air th' Eternal Will + In signs of fire: "Let man be free!" + + Shine far, shine free, a guiding light + To Reason's ways and Virtue's aim, + A lightning-flash the wretch to smite + Who shields his license with thy name! + + + + +ONE OF THE SIGNERS. + +Written for the unveiling of the statue of Josiah Bartlett at Amesbury, +Mass., July 4, 1888. Governor Bartlett, who was a native of the town, +was a signer of the Declaration of Independence. Amesbury or Ambresbury, +so called from the "anointed stones" of the great Druidical temple near +it, was the seat of one of the earliest religious houses in Britain. The +tradition that the guilty wife of King Arthur fled thither for +protection forms one of the finest passages in Tennyson's Idyls of the +King. + + + O storied vale of Merrimac + Rejoice through all thy shade and shine, + And from his century's sleep call back + A brave and honored son of thine. + + Unveil his effigy between + The living and the dead to-day; + The fathers of the Old Thirteen + Shall witness bear as spirits may. + + Unseen, unheard, his gray compeers + The shades of Lee and Jefferson, + Wise Franklin reverend with his years + And Carroll, lord of Carrollton! + + Be thine henceforth a pride of place + Beyond thy namesake's over-sea, + Where scarce a stone is left to trace + The Holy House of Amesbury. + + A prouder memory lingers round + The birthplace of thy true man here + Than that which haunts the refuge found + By Arthur's mythic Guinevere. + + The plain deal table where he sat + And signed a nation's title-deed + Is dearer now to fame than that + Which bore the scroll of Runnymede. + + Long as, on Freedom's natal morn, + Shall ring the Independence bells, + Give to thy dwellers yet unborn + The lesson which his image tells. + + For in that hour of Destiny, + Which tried the men of bravest stock, + He knew the end alone must be + A free land or a traitor's block. + + Among those picked and chosen men + Than his, who here first drew his breath, + No firmer fingers held the pen + Which wrote for liberty or death. + + Not for their hearths and homes alone, + But for the world their work was done; + On all the winds their thought has flown + Through all the circuit of the sun. + + We trace its flight by broken chains, + By songs of grateful Labor still; + To-day, in all her holy fanes, + It rings the bells of freed Brazil. + + O hills that watched his boyhood's home, + O earth and air that nursed him, give, + In this memorial semblance, room + To him who shall its bronze outlive! + + And thou, O Land he loved, rejoice + That in the countless years to come, + Whenever Freedom needs a voice, + These sculptured lips shall not be dumb! + + + + +THE TENT ON THE BEACH + +It can scarcely be necessary to name as the two companions whom I +reckoned with myself in this poetical picnic, Fields the lettered +magnate, and Taylor the free cosmopolite. The long line of sandy beach +which defines almost the whole of the New Hampshire sea-coast is +especially marked near its southern extremity, by the salt-meadows of +Hampton. The Hampton River winds through these meadows, and the reader +may, if he choose, imagine my tent pitched near its mouth, where also +was the scene of the _Wreck of Rivermouth_. The green bluff to the +northward is Great Boar's Head; southward is the Merrimac, with +Newburyport lifting its steeples above brown roofs and green trees on +banks. + + + I would not sin, in this half-playful strain,-- + Too light perhaps for serious years, though born + Of the enforced leisure of slow pain,-- + Against the pure ideal which has drawn + My feet to follow its far-shining gleam. + A simple plot is mine: legends and runes + Of credulous days, old fancies that have lain + Silent, from boyhood taking voice again, + Warmed into life once more, even as the tunes + That, frozen in the fabled hunting-horn, + Thawed into sound:--a winter fireside dream + Of dawns and-sunsets by the summer sea, + Whose sands are traversed by a silent throng + Of voyagers from that vaster mystery + Of which it is an emblem;--and the dear + Memory of one who might have tuned my song + To sweeter music by her delicate ear. + + + When heats as of a tropic clime + Burned all our inland valleys through, + Three friends, the guests of summer time, + Pitched their white tent where sea-winds blew. + Behind them, marshes, seamed and crossed + With narrow creeks, and flower-embossed, + Stretched to the dark oak wood, whose leafy arms + Screened from the stormy East the pleasant inland farms. + + At full of tide their bolder shore + Of sun-bleached sand the waters beat; + At ebb, a smooth and glistening floor + They touched with light, receding feet. + Northward a 'green bluff broke the chain + Of sand-hills; southward stretched a plain + Of salt grass, with a river winding down, + Sail-whitened, and beyond the steeples of the town, + + Whence sometimes, when the wind was light + And dull the thunder of the beach, + They heard the bells of morn and night + Swing, miles away, their silver speech. + Above low scarp and turf-grown wall + They saw the fort-flag rise and fall; + And, the first star to signal twilight's hour, + The lamp-fire glimmer down from the tall light-house tower. + + They rested there, escaped awhile + From cares that wear the life away, + To eat the lotus of the Nile + And drink the poppies of Cathay,-- + To fling their loads of custom down, + Like drift-weed, on the sand-slopes brown, + And in the sea waves drown the restless pack + Of duties, claims, and needs that barked upon their track. + + One, with his beard scarce silvered, bore + A ready credence in his looks, + A lettered magnate, lording o'er + An ever-widening realm of books. + In him brain-currents, near and far, + Converged as in a Leyden jar; + The old, dead authors thronged him round about, + And Elzevir's gray ghosts from leathern graves looked out. + + He knew each living pundit well, + Could weigh the gifts of him or her, + And well the market value tell + Of poet and philosopher. + But if he lost, the scenes behind, + Somewhat of reverence vague and blind, + Finding the actors human at the best, + No readier lips than his the good he saw confessed. + + His boyhood fancies not outgrown, + He loved himself the singer's art; + Tenderly, gently, by his own + He knew and judged an author's heart. + No Rhadamanthine brow of doom + Bowed the dazed pedant from his room; + And bards, whose name is legion, if denied, + Bore off alike intact their verses and their pride. + + Pleasant it was to roam about + The lettered world as he had, done, + And see the lords of song without + Their singing robes and garlands on. + With Wordsworth paddle Rydal mere, + Taste rugged Elliott's home-brewed beer, + And with the ears of Rogers, at fourscore, + Hear Garrick's buskined tread and Walpole's wit once more. + + And one there was, a dreamer born, + Who, with a mission to fulfil, + Had left the Muses' haunts to turn + The crank of an opinion-mill, + Making his rustic reed of song + A weapon in the war with wrong, + Yoking his fancy to the breaking-plough + That beam-deep turned the soil for truth to spring and grow. + + Too quiet seemed the man to ride + The winged Hippogriff Reform; + Was his a voice from side to side + To pierce the tumult of the storm? + A silent, shy, peace-loving man, + He seemed no fiery partisan + To hold his way against the public frown, + The ban of Church and State, the fierce mob's hounding down. + + For while he wrought with strenuous will + The work his hands had found to do, + He heard the fitful music still + Of winds that out of dream-land blew. + The din about him could not drown + What the strange voices whispered down; + Along his task-field weird processions swept, + The visionary pomp of stately phantoms stepped: + + The common air was thick with dreams,-- + He told them to the toiling crowd; + Such music as the woods and streams + Sang in his ear he sang aloud; + In still, shut bays, on windy capes, + He heard the call of beckoning shapes, + And, as the gray old shadows prompted him, + To homely moulds of rhyme he shaped their legends grim. + + He rested now his weary hands, + And lightly moralized and laughed, + As, tracing on the shifting sands + A burlesque of his paper-craft, + He saw the careless waves o'errun + His words, as time before had done, + Each day's tide-water washing clean away, + Like letters from the sand, the work of yesterday. + + And one, whose Arab face was tanned + By tropic sun and boreal frost, + So travelled there was scarce a land + Or people left him to exhaust, + In idling mood had from him hurled + The poor squeezed orange of the world, + And in the tent-shade, as beneath a palm, + Smoked, cross-legged like a Turk, in Oriental calm. + + The very waves that washed the sand + Below him, he had seen before + Whitening the Scandinavian strand + And sultry Mauritanian shore. + From ice-rimmed isles, from summer seas + Palm-fringed, they bore him messages; + He heard the plaintive Nubian songs again, + And mule-bells tinkling down the mountain-paths of Spain. + + His memory round the ransacked earth + On Puck's long girdle slid at ease; + And, instant, to the valley's girth + Of mountains, spice isles of the seas, + Faith flowered in minster stones, Art's guess + At truth and beauty, found access; + Yet loved the while, that free cosmopolite, + Old friends, old ways, and kept his boyhood's dreams in sight. + + Untouched as yet by wealth and pride, + That virgin innocence of beach + No shingly monster, hundred-eyed, + Stared its gray sand-birds out of reach; + Unhoused, save where, at intervals, + The white tents showed their canvas walls, + Where brief sojourners, in the cool, soft air, + Forgot their inland heats, hard toil, and year-long care. + + Sometimes along the wheel-deep sand + A one-horse wagon slowly crawled, + Deep laden with a youthful band, + Whose look some homestead old recalled; + Brother perchance, and sisters twain, + And one whose blue eyes told, more plain + Than the free language of her rosy lip, + Of the still dearer claim of love's relationship. + + With cheeks of russet-orchard tint, + The light laugh of their native rills, + The perfume of their garden's mint, + The breezy freedom of the hills, + They bore, in unrestrained delight, + The motto of the Garter's knight, + Careless as if from every gazing thing + Hid by their innocence, as Gyges by his ring. + + The clanging sea-fowl came and went, + The hunter's gun in the marshes rang; + At nightfall from a neighboring tent + A flute-voiced woman sweetly sang. + Loose-haired, barefooted, hand-in-hand, + Young girls went tripping down the sand; + And youths and maidens, sitting in the moon, + Dreamed o'er the old fond dream from which we wake too soon. + + At times their fishing-lines they plied, + With an old Triton at the oar, + Salt as the sea-wind, tough and dried + As a lean cusk from Labrador. + Strange tales he told of wreck and storm,-- + Had seen the sea-snake's awful form, + And heard the ghosts on Haley's Isle complain, + Speak him off shore, and beg a passage to old Spain! + + And there, on breezy morns, they saw + The fishing-schooners outward run, + Their low-bent sails in tack and flaw + Turned white or dark to shade and sun. + Sometimes, in calms of closing day, + They watched the spectral mirage play, + Saw low, far islands looming tall and nigh, + And ships, with upturned keels, sail like a sea the sky. + + Sometimes a cloud, with thunder black, + Stooped low upon the darkening main, + Piercing the waves along its track + With the slant javelins of rain. + And when west-wind and sunshine warm + Chased out to sea its wrecks of storm, + They saw the prismy hues in thin spray showers + Where the green buds of waves burst into white froth flowers. + + And when along the line of shore + The mists crept upward chill and damp, + Stretched, careless, on their sandy floor + Beneath the flaring lantern lamp, + They talked of all things old and new, + Read, slept, and dreamed as idlers do; + And in the unquestioned freedom of the tent, + Body and o'er-taxed mind to healthful ease unbent. + + Once, when the sunset splendors died, + And, trampling up the sloping sand, + In lines outreaching far and wide, + The white-waned billows swept to land, + Dim seen across the gathering shade, + A vast and ghostly cavalcade, + They sat around their lighted kerosene, + Hearing the deep bass roar their every pause between. + + Then, urged thereto, the Editor + Within his full portfolio dipped, + Feigning excuse while seaching for + (With secret pride) his manuscript. + His pale face flushed from eye to beard, + With nervous cough his throat he cleared, + And, in a voice so tremulous it betrayed + The anxious fondness of an author's heart, he read: + + . . . . . + + + + +THE WRECK OF RIVERMOUTH + +The Goody Cole who figures in this poem and The Changeling as Eunice +Cole, who for a quarter of a century or more was feared, persecuted, and +hated as the witch of Hampton. She lived alone in a hovel a little +distant from the spot where the Hampton Academy now stands, and there +she died, unattended. When her death was discovered, she was hastily +covered up in the earth near by, and a stake driven through her body, to +exorcise the evil spirit. Rev. Stephen Bachiler or Batchelder was one of +the ablest of the early New England preachers. His marriage late in life +to a woman regarded by his church as disreputable induced him to return +to England, where he enjoyed the esteem and favor of Oliver Cromwell +during the Protectorate. + + + Rivermouth Rocks are fair to see, + By dawn or sunset shone across, + When the ebb of the sea has left them free, + To dry their fringes of gold-green moss + For there the river comes winding down, + From salt sea-meadows and uplands brown, + And waves on the outer rocks afoam + Shout to its waters, "Welcome home!" + + And fair are the sunny isles in view + East of the grisly Head of the Boar, + And Agamenticus lifts its blue + Disk of a cloud the woodlands o'er; + And southerly, when the tide is down, + 'Twixt white sea-waves and sand-hills brown, + The beach-birds dance and the gray gulls wheel + Over a floor of burnished steel. + + Once, in the old Colonial days, + Two hundred years ago and more, + A boat sailed down through the winding ways + Of Hampton River to that low shore, + Full of a goodly company + Sailing out on the summer sea, + Veering to catch the land-breeze light, + With the Boar to left and the Rocks to right. + + In Hampton meadows, where mowers laid + Their scythes to the swaths of salted grass, + "Ah, well-a-day! our hay must be made!" + A young man sighed, who saw them pass. + Loud laughed his fellows to see him stand + Whetting his scythe with a listless hand, + Hearing a voice in a far-off song, + Watching a white hand beckoning long. + + "Fie on the witch!" cried a merry girl, + As they rounded the point where Goody Cole + Sat by her door with her wheel atwirl, + A bent and blear-eyed poor old soul. + "Oho!" she muttered, "ye 're brave to-day! + But I hear the little waves laugh and say, + 'The broth will be cold that waits at home; + For it 's one to go, but another to come!'" + + "She's cursed," said the skipper; "speak her fair: + I'm scary always to see her shake + Her wicked head, with its wild gray hair, + And nose like a hawk, and eyes like a snake." + But merrily still, with laugh and shout, + From Hampton River the boat sailed out, + Till the huts and the flakes on Star seemed nigh, + And they lost the scent of the pines of Rye. + + They dropped their lines in the lazy tide, + Drawing up haddock and mottled cod; + They saw not the Shadow that walked beside, + They heard not the feet with silence shod. + But thicker and thicker a hot mist grew, + Shot by the lightnings through and through; + And muffled growls, like the growl of a beast, + Ran along the sky from west to east. + + Then the skipper looked from the darkening sea + Up to the dimmed and wading sun; + But he spake like a brave man cheerily, + "Yet there is time for our homeward run." + Veering and tacking, they backward wore; + And just as a breath-from the woods ashore + Blew out to whisper of danger past, + The wrath of the storm came down at last! + + The skipper hauled at the heavy sail + "God be our help!" he only cried, + As the roaring gale, like the stroke of a flail, + Smote the boat on its starboard side. + The Shoalsmen looked, but saw alone + Dark films of rain-cloud slantwise blown, + Wild rocks lit up by the lightning's glare, + The strife and torment of sea and air. + + Goody Cole looked out from her door + The Isles of Shoals were drowned and gone, + Scarcely she saw the Head of the Boar + Toss the foam from tusks of stone. + She clasped her hands with a grip of pain, + The tear on her cheek was not of rain + "They are lost," she muttered, "boat and crew! + Lord, forgive me! my words were true!" + + Suddenly seaward swept the squall; + The low sun smote through cloudy rack; + The Shoals stood clear in the light, and all + The trend of the coast lay hard and black. + But far and wide as eye could reach, + No life was seen upon wave or beach; + The boat that went out at morning never + Sailed back again into Hampton River. + + O mower, lean on thy bended snath, + Look from the meadows green and low + The wind of the sea is a waft of death, + The waves are singing a song of woe! + By silent river, by moaning sea, + Long and vain shall thy watching be + Never again shall the sweet voice call, + Never the white hand rise and fall! + + O Rivermouth Rocks, how sad a sight + Ye saw in the light of breaking day + Dead faces looking up cold and white + From sand and seaweed where they lay. + The mad old witch-wife wailed and wept, + And cursed the tide as it backward crept + "Crawl back, crawl back, blue water-snake + Leave your dead for the hearts that break!" + + Solemn it was in that old day + In Hampton town and its log-built church, + Where side by side the coffins lay + And the mourners stood in aisle and porch. + In the singing-seats young eyes were dim, + The voices faltered that raised the hymn, + And Father Dalton, grave and stern, + Sobbed through his prayer and wept in turn. + + But his ancient colleague did not pray; + Under the weight of his fourscore years + He stood apart with the iron-gray + Of his strong brows knitted to hide his tears; + And a fair-faced woman of doubtful fame, + Linking her own with his honored name, + Subtle as sin, at his side withstood + The felt reproach of her neighborhood. + + Apart with them, like them forbid, + Old Goody Cole looked drearily round, + As, two by two, with their faces hid, + The mourners walked to the burying-ground. + She let the staff from her clasped hands fall + "Lord, forgive us! we're sinners all!" + And the voice of the old man answered her + "Amen!" said Father Bachiler. + + So, as I sat upon Appledore + In the calm of a closing summer day, + And the broken lines of Hampton shore + In purple mist of cloudland lay, + The Rivermouth Rocks their story told; + And waves aglow with sunset gold, + Rising and breaking in steady chime, + Beat the rhythm and kept the time. + + And the sunset paled, and warmed once more + With a softer, tenderer after-glow; + In the east was moon-rise, with boats off-shore + And sails in the distance drifting slow. + The beacon glimmered from Portsmouth bar, + The White Isle kindled its great red star; + And life and death in my old-time lay + Mingled in peace like the night and day! + + . . . . . + + "Well!" said the Man of Books, "your story + Is really not ill told in verse. + As the Celt said of purgatory, + One might go farther and fare worse." + The Reader smiled; and once again + With steadier voice took up his strain, + While the fair singer from the neighboring tent + Drew near, and at his side a graceful listener bent. + + 1864. + + + + +THE GRAVE BY THE LAKE + + At the mouth of the Melvin River, which empties into Moulton-Bay in + Lake Winnipesaukee, is a great mound. The Ossipee Indians had their + home in the neighborhood of the bay, which is plentifully stocked + with fish, and many relics of their occupation have been found. + + + Where the Great Lake's sunny smiles + Dimple round its hundred isles, + And the mountain's granite ledge + Cleaves the water like a wedge, + Ringed about with smooth, gray stones, + Rest the giant's mighty bones. + + Close beside, in shade and gleam, + Laughs and ripples Melvin stream; + Melvin water, mountain-born, + All fair flowers its banks adorn; + All the woodland's voices meet, + Mingling with its murmurs sweet. + + Over lowlands forest-grown, + Over waters island-strown, + Over silver-sanded beach, + Leaf-locked bay and misty reach, + Melvin stream and burial-heap, + Watch and ward the mountains keep. + + Who that Titan cromlech fills? + Forest-kaiser, lord o' the hills? + Knight who on the birchen tree + Carved his savage heraldry? + Priest o' the pine-wood temples dim, + Prophet, sage, or wizard grim? + + Rugged type of primal man, + Grim utilitarian, + Loving woods for hunt and prowl, + Lake and hill for fish and fowl, + As the brown bear blind and dull + To the grand and beautiful: + + Not for him the lesson drawn + From the mountains smit with dawn, + Star-rise, moon-rise, flowers of May, + Sunset's purple bloom of day,-- + Took his life no hue from thence, + Poor amid such affluence? + + Haply unto hill and tree + All too near akin was he + Unto him who stands afar + Nature's marvels greatest are; + Who the mountain purple seeks + Must not climb the higher peaks. + + Yet who knows in winter tramp, + Or the midnight of the camp, + What revealings faint and far, + Stealing down from moon and star, + Kindled in that human clod + Thought of destiny and God? + + Stateliest forest patriarch, + Grand in robes of skin and bark, + What sepulchral mysteries, + What weird funeral-rites, were his? + What sharp wail, what drear lament, + Back scared wolf and eagle sent? + + Now, whate'er he may have been, + Low he lies as other men; + On his mound the partridge drums, + There the noisy blue-jay comes; + Rank nor name nor pomp has he + In the grave's democracy. + + Part thy blue lips, Northern lake! + Moss-grown rocks, your silence break! + Tell the tale, thou ancient tree! + Thou, too, slide-worn Ossipee! + Speak, and tell us how and when + Lived and died this king of men! + + Wordless moans the ancient pine; + Lake and mountain give no sign; + Vain to trace this ring of stones; + Vain the search of crumbling bones + Deepest of all mysteries, + And the saddest, silence is. + + Nameless, noteless, clay with clay + Mingles slowly day by day; + But somewhere, for good or ill, + That dark soul is living still; + Somewhere yet that atom's force + Moves the light-poised universe. + + Strange that on his burial-sod + Harebells bloom, and golden-rod, + While the soul's dark horoscope + Holds no starry sign of hope! + Is the Unseen with sight at odds? + Nature's pity more than God's? + + Thus I mused by Melvin's side, + While the summer eventide + Made the woods and inland sea + And the mountains mystery; + And the hush of earth and air + Seemed the pause before a prayer,-- + + Prayer for him, for all who rest, + Mother Earth, upon thy breast,-- + Lapped on Christian turf, or hid + In rock-cave or pyramid + All who sleep, as all who live, + Well may need the prayer, "Forgive!" + + Desert-smothered caravan, + Knee-deep dust that once was man, + Battle-trenches ghastly piled, + Ocean-floors with white bones tiled, + Crowded tomb and mounded sod, + Dumbly crave that prayer to God. + + Oh, the generations old + Over whom no church-bells tolled, + Christless, lifting up blind eyes + To the silence of the skies! + For the innumerable dead + Is my soul disquieted. + + Where be now these silent hosts? + Where the camping-ground of ghosts? + Where the spectral conscripts led + To the white tents of the dead? + What strange shore or chartless sea + Holds the awful mystery? + + Then the warm sky stooped to make + Double sunset in the lake; + While above I saw with it, + Range on range, the mountains lit; + And the calm and splendor stole + Like an answer to my soul. + + Hear'st thou, O of little faith, + What to thee the mountain saith, + What is whispered by the trees? + Cast on God thy care for these; + Trust Him, if thy sight be dim + Doubt for them is doubt of Him. + + "Blind must be their close-shut eyes + Where like night the sunshine lies, + Fiery-linked the self-forged chain + Binding ever sin to pain, + Strong their prison-house of will, + But without He waiteth still. + + "Not with hatred's undertow + Doth the Love Eternal flow; + Every chain that spirits wear + Crumbles in the breath of prayer; + And the penitent's desire + Opens every gate of fire. + + "Still Thy love, O Christ arisen, + Yearns to reach these souls in prison! + Through all depths of sin and loss + Drops the plummet of Thy cross! + Never yet abyss was found + Deeper than that cross could sound!" + + Therefore well may Nature keep + Equal faith with all who sleep, + Set her watch of hills around + Christian grave and heathen mound, + And to cairn and kirkyard send + Summer's flowery dividend. + + Keep, O pleasant Melvin stream, + Thy sweet laugh in shade and gleam + On the Indian's grassy tomb + Swing, O flowers, your bells of bloom! + Deep below, as high above, + Sweeps the circle of God's love. + 1865 + + . . . . . + + He paused and questioned with his eye + The hearers' verdict on his song. + A low voice asked: Is 't well to pry + Into the secrets which belong + Only to God?--The life to be + Is still the unguessed mystery + Unsealed, unpierced the cloudy walls remain, + We beat with dream and wish the soundless doors in vain. + + "But faith beyond our sight may go." + He said: "The gracious Fatherhood + Can only know above, below, + Eternal purposes of good. + From our free heritage of will, + The bitter springs of pain and ill + Flow only in all worlds. The perfect day + Of God is shadowless, and love is love alway." + + "I know," she said, "the letter kills; + That on our arid fields of strife + And heat of clashing texts distils + The clew of spirit and of life. + But, searching still the written Word, + I fain would find, Thus saith the Lord, + A voucher for the hope I also feel + That sin can give no wound beyond love's power to heal." + + "Pray," said the Man of Books, "give o'er + A theme too vast for time and place. + Go on, Sir Poet, ride once more + Your hobby at his old free pace. + But let him keep, with step discreet, + The solid earth beneath his feet. + In the great mystery which around us lies, + The wisest is a fool, the fool Heaven-helped is wise." + + The Traveller said: "If songs have creeds, + Their choice of them let singers make; + But Art no other sanction needs + Than beauty for its own fair sake. + It grinds not in the mill of use, + Nor asks for leave, nor begs excuse; + It makes the flexile laws it deigns to own, + And gives its atmosphere its color and its tone. + + "Confess, old friend, your austere school + Has left your fancy little chance; + You square to reason's rigid rule + The flowing outlines of romance. + With conscience keen from exercise, + And chronic fear of compromise, + You check the free play of your rhymes, to clap + A moral underneath, and spring it like a trap." + + The sweet voice answered: "Better so + Than bolder flights that know no check; + Better to use the bit, than throw + The reins all loose on fancy's neck. + The liberal range of Art should be + The breadth of Christian liberty, + Restrained alone by challenge and alarm + Where its charmed footsteps tread the border land of harm. + + "Beyond the poet's sweet dream lives + The eternal epic of the man. + He wisest is who only gives, + True to himself, the best he can; + Who, drifting in the winds of praise, + The inward monitor obeys; + And, with the boldness that confesses fear, + Takes in the crowded sail, and lets his conscience steer. + + "Thanks for the fitting word he speaks, + Nor less for doubtful word unspoken; + For the false model that he breaks, + As for the moulded grace unbroken; + For what is missed and what remains, + For losses which are truest gains, + For reverence conscious of the Eternal eye, + And truth too fair to need the garnish of a lie." + + Laughing, the Critic bowed. "I yield + The point without another word; + Who ever yet a case appealed + Where beauty's judgment had been heard? + And you, my good friend, owe to me + Your warmest thanks for such a plea, + As true withal as sweet. For my offence + Of cavil, let her words be ample recompense." + + Across the sea one lighthouse star, + With crimson ray that came and went, + Revolving on its tower afar, + Looked through the doorway of the tent. + While outward, over sand-slopes wet, + The lamp flashed down its yellow jet + On the long wash of waves, with red and green + Tangles of weltering weed through the white foam-wreaths seen. + + "Sing while we may,--another day + May bring enough of sorrow;'--thus + Our Traveller in his own sweet lay, + His Crimean camp-song, hints to us," + The lady said. "So let it be; + Sing us a song," exclaimed all three. + She smiled: "I can but marvel at your choice + To hear our poet's words through my poor borrowed voice." + + . . . . . + + Her window opens to the bay, + On glistening light or misty gray, + And there at dawn and set of day + In prayer she kneels. + + "Dear Lord!" she saith, "to many a borne + From wind and wave the wanderers come; + I only see the tossing foam + Of stranger keels. + + "Blown out and in by summer gales, + The stately ships, with crowded sails, + And sailors leaning o'er their rails, + Before me glide; + They come, they go, but nevermore, + Spice-laden from the Indian shore, + I see his swift-winged Isidore + The waves divide. + + "O Thou! with whom the night is day + And one the near and far away, + Look out on yon gray waste, and say + Where lingers he. + Alive, perchance, on some lone beach + Or thirsty isle beyond the reach + Of man, he hears the mocking speech + Of wind and sea. + + "O dread and cruel deep, reveal + The secret which thy waves conceal, + And, ye wild sea-birds, hither wheel + And tell your tale. + Let winds that tossed his raven hair + A message from my lost one bear,-- + Some thought of me, a last fond prayer + Or dying wail! + + "Come, with your dreariest truth shut out + The fears that haunt me round about; + O God! I cannot bear this doubt + That stifles breath. + The worst is better than the dread; + Give me but leave to mourn my dead + Asleep in trust and hope, instead + Of life in death!" + + It might have been the evening breeze + That whispered in the garden trees, + It might have been the sound of seas + That rose and fell; + But, with her heart, if not her ear, + The old loved voice she seemed to hear + "I wait to meet thee: be of cheer, + For all is well!" + 1865 + + . . . . . + + The sweet voice into silence went, + A silence which was almost pain + As through it rolled the long lament, + The cadence of the mournful main. + Glancing his written pages o'er, + The Reader tried his part once more; + Leaving the land of hackmatack and pine + For Tuscan valleys glad with olive and with vine. + + + + +THE BROTHER OF MERCY. + + Piero Luca, known of all the town + As the gray porter by the Pitti wall + Where the noon shadows of the gardens fall, + Sick and in dolor, waited to lay down + His last sad burden, and beside his mat + The barefoot monk of La Certosa sat. + + Unseen, in square and blossoming garden drifted, + Soft sunset lights through green Val d'Arno sifted; + Unheard, below the living shuttles shifted + Backward and forth, and wove, in love or strife, + In mirth or pain, the mottled web of life + But when at last came upward from the street + Tinkle of bell and tread of measured feet, + The sick man started, strove to rise in vain, + Sinking back heavily with a moan of pain. + And the monk said, "'T is but the Brotherhood + Of Mercy going on some errand good + Their black masks by the palace-wall I see." + Piero answered faintly, "Woe is me! + This day for the first time in forty years + In vain the bell hath sounded in my ears, + Calling me with my brethren of the mask, + Beggar and prince alike, to some new task + Of love or pity,--haply from the street + To bear a wretch plague-stricken, or, with feet + Hushed to the quickened ear and feverish brain, + To tread the crowded lazaretto's floors, + Down the long twilight of the corridors, + Midst tossing arms and faces full of pain. + I loved the work: it was its own reward. + I never counted on it to offset + My sins, which are many, or make less my debt + To the free grace and mercy of our Lord; + But somehow, father, it has come to be + In these long years so much a part of me, + I should not know myself, if lacking it, + But with the work the worker too would die, + And in my place some other self would sit + Joyful or sad,--what matters, if not I? + And now all's over. Woe is me!"--"My son," + The monk said soothingly, "thy work is done; + And no more as a servant, but the guest + Of God thou enterest thy eternal rest. + No toil, no tears, no sorrow for the lost, + Shall mar thy perfect bliss. Thou shalt sit down + Clad in white robes, and wear a golden crown + Forever and forever."--Piero tossed + On his sick-pillow: "Miserable me! + I am too poor for such grand company; + The crown would be too heavy for this gray + Old head; and God forgive me if I say + It would be hard to sit there night and day, + Like an image in the Tribune, doing naught + With these hard hands, that all my life have wrought, + Not for bread only, but for pity's sake. + I'm dull at prayers: I could not keep awake, + Counting my beads. Mine's but a crazy head, + Scarce worth the saving, if all else be dead. + And if one goes to heaven without a heart, + God knows he leaves behind his better part. + I love my fellow-men: the worst I know + I would do good to. Will death change me so + That I shall sit among the lazy saints, + Turning a deaf ear to the sore complaints + Of souls that suffer? Why, I never yet + Left a poor dog in the strada hard beset, + Or ass o'erladen! Must I rate man less + Than dog or ass, in holy selfishness? + Methinks (Lord, pardon, if the thought be sin!) + The world of pain were better, if therein + One's heart might still be human, and desires + Of natural pity drop upon its fires + Some cooling tears." + + Thereat the pale monk crossed + His brow, and, muttering, "Madman! thou art lost!" + Took up his pyx and fled; and, left alone, + The sick man closed his eyes with a great groan + That sank into a prayer, "Thy will be done!" + Then was he made aware, by soul or ear, + Of somewhat pure and holy bending o'er him, + And of a voice like that of her who bore him, + Tender and most compassionate: "Never fear! + For heaven is love, as God himself is love; + Thy work below shall be thy work above." + And when he looked, lo! in the stern monk's place + He saw the shining of an angel's face! + + 1864. + + . . . . . + + The Traveller broke the pause. "I've seen + The Brothers down the long street steal, + Black, silent, masked, the crowd between, + And felt to doff my hat and kneel + With heart, if not with knee, in prayer, + For blessings on their pious care." + + Reader wiped his glasses: "Friends of mine, + I'll try our home-brewed next, instead of foreign wine." + + + + +THE CHANGELING. + + For the fairest maid in Hampton + They needed not to search, + Who saw young Anna Favor + Come walking into church, + + Or bringing from the meadows, + At set of harvest-day, + The frolic of the blackbirds, + The sweetness of the hay. + + Now the weariest of all mothers, + The saddest two-years bride, + She scowls in the face of her husband, + And spurns her child aside. + + "Rake out the red coals, goodman,-- + For there the child shall lie, + Till the black witch comes to fetch her + And both up chimney fly. + + "It's never my own little daughter, + It's never my own," she said; + "The witches have stolen my Anna, + And left me an imp instead. + + "Oh, fair and sweet was my baby, + Blue eyes, and hair of gold; + But this is ugly and wrinkled, + Cross, and cunning, and old. + + "I hate the touch of her fingers, + I hate the feel of her skin; + It's not the milk from my bosom, + But my blood, that she sucks in. + + "My face grows sharp with the torment; + Look! my arms are skin and bone! + Rake open the red coals, goodman, + And the witch shall have her own. + + "She 'll come when she hears it crying, + In the shape of an owl or bat, + And she'll bring us our darling Anna + In place of her screeching brat." + + Then the goodman, Ezra Dalton, + Laid his hand upon her head + "Thy sorrow is great, O woman! + I sorrow with thee," he said. + + "The paths to trouble are many, + And never but one sure way + Leads out to the light beyond it + My poor wife, let us pray." + + Then he said to the great All-Father, + "Thy daughter is weak and blind; + Let her sight come back, and clothe her + Once more in her right mind. + + "Lead her out of this evil shadow, + Out of these fancies wild; + Let the holy love of the mother + Turn again to her child. + + "Make her lips like the lips of Mary + Kissing her blessed Son; + Let her hands, like the hands of Jesus, + Rest on her little one. + + "Comfort the soul of thy handmaid, + Open her prison-door, + And thine shall be all the glory + And praise forevermore." + + Then into the face of its mother + The baby looked up and smiled; + And the cloud of her soul was lifted, + And she knew her little child. + + A beam of the slant west sunshine + Made the wan face almost fair, + Lit the blue eyes' patient wonder, + And the rings of pale gold hair. + + She kissed it on lip and forehead, + She kissed it on cheek and chin, + And she bared her snow-white bosom + To the lips so pale and thin. + + Oh, fair on her bridal morning + Was the maid who blushed and smiled, + But fairer to Ezra Dalton + Looked the mother of his child. + + With more than a lover's fondness + He stooped to her worn young face, + And the nursing child and the mother + He folded in one embrace. + + "Blessed be God!" he murmured. + "Blessed be God!" she said; + "For I see, who once was blinded,-- + I live, who once was dead. + + "Now mount and ride, my goodman, + As thou lovest thy own soul + Woe's me, if my wicked fancies + Be the death of Goody Cole!" + + His horse he saddled and bridled, + And into the night rode he, + Now through the great black woodland, + Now by the white-beached sea. + + He rode through the silent clearings, + He came to the ferry wide, + And thrice he called to the boatman + Asleep on the other side. + + He set his horse to the river, + He swam to Newbury town, + And he called up Justice Sewall + In his nightcap and his gown. + + And the grave and worshipful justice + (Upon whose soul be peace!) + Set his name to the jailer's warrant + For Goodwife Cole's release. + + Then through the night the hoof-beats + Went sounding like a flail; + And Goody Cole at cockcrow + Came forth from Ipswich jail. + 1865 + + . . . . . + + "Here is a rhyme: I hardly dare + To venture on its theme worn out; + What seems so sweet by Doon and Ayr + Sounds simply silly hereabout; + And pipes by lips Arcadian blown + Are only tin horns at our own. + Yet still the muse of pastoral walks with us, + While Hosea Biglow sings, our new Theocritus." + + + + +THE MAIDS OF ATTITASH. + +Attitash, an Indian word signifying "huckleberry," is the name of a +large and beautiful lake in the northern part of Amesbury. + + + In sky and wave the white clouds swam, + And the blue hills of Nottingham + Through gaps of leafy green + Across the lake were seen, + + When, in the shadow of the ash + That dreams its dream in Attitash, + In the warm summer weather, + Two maidens sat together. + + They sat and watched in idle mood + The gleam and shade of lake and wood; + The beach the keen light smote, + The white sail of a boat; + + Swan flocks of lilies shoreward lying, + In sweetness, not in music, dying; + Hardback, and virgin's-bower, + And white-spiked clethra-flower. + + With careless ears they heard the plash + And breezy wash of Attitash, + The wood-bird's plaintive cry, + The locust's sharp reply. + + And teased the while, with playful band, + The shaggy dog of Newfoundland, + Whose uncouth frolic spilled + Their baskets berry-filled. + + Then one, the beauty of whose eyes + Was evermore a great surprise, + Tossed back her queenly head, + And, lightly laughing, said: + + "No bridegroom's hand be mine to hold + That is not lined with yellow gold; + I tread no cottage-floor; + I own no lover poor. + + "My love must come on silken wings, + With bridal lights of diamond rings, + Not foul with kitchen smirch, + With tallow-dip for torch." + + The other, on whose modest head + Was lesser dower of beauty shed, + With look for home-hearths meet, + And voice exceeding sweet, + + Answered, "We will not rivals be; + Take thou the gold, leave love to me; + Mine be the cottage small, + And thine the rich man's hall. + + "I know, indeed, that wealth is good; + But lowly roof and simple food, + With love that hath no doubt, + Are more than gold without." + + Hard by a farmer hale and young + His cradle in the rye-field swung, + Tracking the yellow plain + With windrows of ripe grain. + + And still, whene'er he paused to whet + His scythe, the sidelong glance he met + Of large dark eyes, where strove + False pride and secret love. + + Be strong, young mower of the-grain; + That love shall overmatch disdain, + Its instincts soon or late + The heart shall vindicate. + + In blouse of gray, with fishing-rod, + Half screened by leaves, a stranger trod + The margin of the pond, + Watching the group beyond. + + The supreme hours unnoted come; + Unfelt the turning tides of doom; + And so the maids laughed on, + Nor dreamed what Fate had done,-- + + Nor knew the step was Destiny's + That rustled in the birchen trees, + As, with their lives forecast, + Fisher and mower passed. + + Erelong by lake and rivulet side + The summer roses paled and died, + And Autumn's fingers shed + The maple's leaves of red. + + Through the long gold-hazed afternoon, + Alone, but for the diving loon, + The partridge in the brake, + The black duck on the lake, + + Beneath the shadow of the ash + Sat man and maid by Attitash; + And earth and air made room + For human hearts to bloom. + + Soft spread the carpets of the sod, + And scarlet-oak and golden-rod + With blushes and with smiles + Lit up the forest aisles. + + The mellow light the lake aslant, + The pebbled margin's ripple-chant + Attempered and low-toned, + The tender mystery owned. + + And through the dream the lovers dreamed + Sweet sounds stole in and soft lights streamed; + The sunshine seemed to bless, + The air was a caress. + + Not she who lightly laughed is there, + With scornful toss of midnight hair, + Her dark, disdainful eyes, + And proud lip worldly-wise. + + Her haughty vow is still unsaid, + But all she dreamed and coveted + Wears, half to her surprise, + The youthful farmer's guise! + + With more than all her old-time pride + She walks the rye-field at his side, + Careless of cot or hall, + Since love transfigures all. + + Rich beyond dreams, the vantage-ground + Of life is gained; her hands have found + The talisman of old + That changes all to gold. + + While she who could for love dispense + With all its glittering accidents, + And trust her heart alone, + Finds love and gold her own. + + What wealth can buy or art can build + Awaits her; but her cup is filled + Even now unto the brim; + Her world is love and him! + 1866. + + . . . . . + + The while he heard, the Book-man drew + A length of make-believing face, + With smothered mischief laughing through + "Why, you shall sit in Ramsay's place, + And, with his Gentle Shepherd, keep + On Yankee hills immortal sheep, + While love-lorn swains and maids the seas beyond + Hold dreamy tryst around your huckleberry-pond." + + The Traveller laughed: "Sir Galahad + Singing of love the Trouvere's lay! + How should he know the blindfold lad + From one of Vulcan's forge-boys?"--"Nay, + He better sees who stands outside + Than they who in procession ride," + The Reader answered: "selectmen and squire + Miss, while they make, the show that wayside folks admire. + + "Here is a wild tale of the North, + Our travelled friend will own as one + Fit for a Norland Christmas hearth + And lips of Christian Andersen. + They tell it in the valleys green + Of the fair island he has seen, + Low lying off the pleasant Swedish shore, + Washed by the Baltic Sea, and watched by Elsinore." + + + + +KALLUNDBORG CHURCH + + "Tie stille, barn min + Imorgen kommer Fin, + Fa'er din, + Og gi'er dig Esbern Snares nine og hjerte at lege med!" + Zealand Rhyme. + + + "Build at Kallundborg by the sea + A church as stately as church may be, + And there shalt thou wed my daughter fair," + Said the Lord of Nesvek to Esbern Snare. + + And the Baron laughed. But Esbern said, + "Though I lose my soul, I will Helva wed!" + And off he strode, in his pride of will, + To the Troll who dwelt in Ulshoi hill. + + "Build, O Troll, a church for me + At Kallundborg by the mighty sea; + Build it stately, and build it fair, + Build it quickly," said Esbern Snare. + + But the sly Dwarf said, "No work is wrought + By Trolls of the Hills, O man, for naught. + What wilt thou give for thy church so fair?" + "Set thy own price," quoth Esbern Snare. + + "When Kallundborg church is builded well, + Than must the name of its builder tell, + Or thy heart and thy eyes must be my boon." + "Build," said Esbern, "and build it soon." + + By night and by day the Troll wrought on; + He hewed the timbers, he piled the stone; + But day by day, as the walls rose fair, + Darker and sadder grew Esbern Snare. + + He listened by night, he watched by day, + He sought and thought, but he dared not pray; + In vain he called on the Elle-maids shy, + And the Neck and the Nis gave no reply. + + Of his evil bargain far and wide + A rumor ran through the country-side; + And Helva of Nesvek, young and fair, + Prayed for the soul of Esbern Snare. + + And now the church was wellnigh done; + One pillar it lacked, and one alone; + And the grim Troll muttered, "Fool thou art + To-morrow gives me thy eyes and heart!" + + By Kallundborg in black despair, + Through wood and meadow, walked Esbern Snare, + Till, worn and weary, the strong man sank + Under the birches on Ulshoi bank. + + At, his last day's work he heard the Troll + Hammer and delve in the quarry's hole; + Before him the church stood large and fair + "I have builded my tomb," said Esbern Snare. + + And he closed his eyes the sight to hide, + When he heard a light step at his side + "O Esbern Snare!" a sweet voice said, + "Would I might die now in thy stead!" + + With a grasp by love and by fear made strong, + He held her fast, and he held her long; + With the beating heart of a bird afeard, + She hid her face in his flame-red beard. + + "O love!" he cried, "let me look to-day + In thine eyes ere mine are plucked away; + Let me hold thee close, let me feel thy heart + Ere mine by the Troll is torn apart! + + "I sinned, O Helva, for love of thee! + Pray that the Lord Christ pardon me!" + But fast as she prayed, and faster still, + Hammered the Troll in Ulshoi hill. + + He knew, as he wrought, that a loving heart + Was somehow baffling his evil art; + For more than spell of Elf or Troll + Is a maiden's prayer for her lover's soul. + + And Esbern listened, and caught the sound + Of a Troll-wife singing underground + "To-morrow comes Fine, father thine + Lie still and hush thee, baby mine! + + "Lie still, my darling! next sunrise + Thou'lt play with Esbern Snare's heart and eyes!" + "Ho! ho!" quoth Esbern, "is that your game? + Thanks to the Troll-wife, I know his name!" + + The Troll he heard him, and hurried on + To Kallundborg church with the lacking stone. + "Too late, Gaffer Fine!" cried Esbern Snare; + And Troll and pillar vanished in air! + + That night the harvesters heard the sound + Of a woman sobbing underground, + And the voice of the Hill-Troll loud with blame + Of the careless singer who told his name. + + Of the Troll of the Church they sing the rune + By the Northern Sea in the harvest moon; + And the fishers of Zealand hear him still + Scolding his wife in Ulshoi hill. + + And seaward over its groves of birch + Still looks the tower of Kallundborg church, + Where, first at its altar, a wedded pair, + Stood Helva of Nesvek and Esbern Snare! + 1865. + + . . . . . + + "What," asked the Traveller, "would our sires, + The old Norse story-tellers, say + Of sun-graved pictures, ocean wires, + And smoking steamboats of to-day? + And this, O lady, by your leave, + Recalls your song of yester eve: + Pray, let us have that Cable-hymn once more." + "Hear, hear!" the Book-man cried, "the lady has the floor. + + "These noisy waves below perhaps + To such a strain will lend their ear, + With softer voice and lighter lapse + Come stealing up the sands to hear, + And what they once refused to do + For old King Knut accord to you. + Nay, even the fishes shall your listeners be, + As once, the legend runs, they heard St. Anthony." + + + + +THE CABLE HYMN. + + O lonely bay of Trinity, + O dreary shores, give ear! + Lean down unto the white-lipped sea + The voice of God to hear! + + From world to world His couriers fly, + Thought-winged and shod with fire; + The angel of His stormy sky + Rides down the sunken wire. + + What saith the herald of the Lord? + "The world's long strife is done; + Close wedded by that mystic cord, + Its continents are one. + + "And one in heart, as one in blood, + Shall all her peoples be; + The hands of human brotherhood + Are clasped beneath the sea. + + "Through Orient seas, o'er Afric's plain + And Asian mountains borne, + The vigor of the Northern brain + Shall nerve the world outworn. + + "From clime to clime, from shore to shore, + Shall thrill the magic thread; + The new Prometheus steals once more + The fire that wakes the dead." + + Throb on, strong pulse of thunder! beat + From answering beach to beach; + Fuse nations in thy kindly heat, + And melt the chains of each! + + Wild terror of the sky above, + Glide tamed and dumb below! + Bear gently, Ocean's carrier-dove, + Thy errands to and fro. + + Weave on, swift shuttle of the Lord, + Beneath the deep so far, + The bridal robe of earth's accord, + The funeral shroud of war! + + For lo! the fall of Ocean's wall + Space mocked and time outrun; + And round the world the thought of all + Is as the thought of one! + + The poles unite, the zones agree, + The tongues of striving cease; + As on the Sea of Galilee + The Christ is whispering, Peace! + 1858. + + . . . . . + + "Glad prophecy! to this at last," + The Reader said, "shall all things come. + Forgotten be the bugle's blast, + And battle-music of the drum. + + "A little while the world may run + Its old mad way, with needle-gun + And iron-clad, but truth, at last, shall reign + The cradle-song of Christ was never sung in vain!" + + Shifting his scattered papers, "Here," + He said, as died the faint applause, + "Is something that I found last year + Down on the island known as Orr's. + I had it from a fair-haired girl + Who, oddly, bore the name of Pearl, + (As if by some droll freak of circumstance,) + Classic, or wellnigh so, in Harriet Stowe's romance." + + + + +THE DEAD SHIP OF HARPSWELL. + + What flecks the outer gray beyond + The sundown's golden trail? + The white flash of a sea-bird's wing, + Or gleam of slanting sail? + Let young eyes watch from Neck and Point, + And sea-worn elders pray,-- + The ghost of what was once a ship + Is sailing up the bay. + + From gray sea-fog, from icy drift, + From peril and from pain, + The home-bound fisher greets thy lights, + O hundred-harbored Maine! + But many a keel shall seaward turn, + And many a sail outstand, + When, tall and white, the Dead Ship looms + Against the dusk of land. + + She rounds the headland's bristling pines; + She threads the isle-set bay; + No spur of breeze can speed her on, + Nor ebb of tide delay. + Old men still walk the Isle of Orr + Who tell her date and name, + Old shipwrights sit in Freeport yards + Who hewed her oaken frame. + + What weary doom of baffled quest, + Thou sad sea-ghost, is thine? + What makes thee in the haunts of home + A wonder and a sign? + No foot is on thy silent deck, + Upon thy helm no hand; + No ripple hath the soundless wind + That smites thee from the land! + + For never comes the ship to port, + Howe'er the breeze may be; + Just when she nears the waiting shore + She drifts again to sea. + No tack of sail, nor turn of helm, + Nor sheer of veering side; + Stern-fore she drives to sea and night, + Against the wind and tide. + + In vain o'er Harpswell Neck the star + Of evening guides her in; + In vain for her the lamps are lit + Within thy tower, Seguin! + In vain the harbor-boat shall hail, + In vain the pilot call; + No hand shall reef her spectral sail, + Or let her anchor fall. + + Shake, brown old wives, with dreary joy, + Your gray-head hints of ill; + And, over sick-beds whispering low, + Your prophecies fulfil. + Some home amid yon birchen trees + Shall drape its door with woe; + And slowly where the Dead Ship sails, + The burial boat shall row! + + From Wolf Neck and from Flying Point, + From island and from main, + From sheltered cove and tided creek, + Shall glide the funeral train. + The dead-boat with the bearers four, + The mourners at her stern,-- + And one shall go the silent way + Who shall no more return! + + And men shall sigh, and women weep, + Whose dear ones pale and pine, + And sadly over sunset seas + Await the ghostly sign. + They know not that its sails are filled + By pity's tender breath, + Nor see the Angel at the helm + Who steers the Ship of Death! + 1866. + + . . . . . + + "Chill as a down-east breeze should be," + The Book-man said. "A ghostly touch + The legend has. I'm glad to see + Your flying Yankee beat the Dutch." + "Well, here is something of the sort + Which one midsummer day I caught + In Narragansett Bay, for lack of fish." + "We wait," the Traveller said; + "serve hot or cold your dish." + + + + +THE PALATINE. + +Block Island in Long Island Sound, called by the Indians Manisees, the +isle of the little god, was the scene of a tragic incident a hundred +years or more ago, when _The Palatine_, an emigrant ship bound for +Philadelphia, driven off its course, came upon the coast at this point. +A mutiny on board, followed by an inhuman desertion on the part of the +crew, had brought the unhappy passengers to the verge of starvation and +madness. Tradition says that wreckers on shore, after rescuing all but +one of the survivors, set fire to the vessel, which was driven out to +sea before a gale which had sprung up. Every twelvemonth, according to +the same tradition, the spectacle of a ship on fire is visible to the +inhabitants of the island. + + + Leagues north, as fly the gull and auk, + Point Judith watches with eye of hawk; + Leagues south, thy beacon flames, Montauk! + + Lonely and wind-shorn, wood-forsaken, + With never a tree for Spring to waken, + For tryst of lovers or farewells taken, + + Circled by waters that never freeze, + Beaten by billow and swept by breeze, + Lieth the island of Manisees, + + Set at the mouth of the Sound to hold + The coast lights up on its turret old, + Yellow with moss and sea-fog mould. + + Dreary the land when gust and sleet + At its doors and windows howl and beat, + And Winter laughs at its fires of peat! + + But in summer time, when pool and pond, + Held in the laps of valleys fond, + Are blue as the glimpses of sea beyond; + + When the hills are sweet with the brier-rose, + And, hid in the warm, soft dells, unclose + Flowers the mainland rarely knows; + + When boats to their morning fishing go, + And, held to the wind and slanting low, + Whitening and darkening the small sails show,-- + + Then is that lonely island fair; + And the pale health-seeker findeth there + The wine of life in its pleasant air. + + No greener valleys the sun invite, + On smoother beaches no sea-birds light, + No blue waves shatter to foam more white! + + There, circling ever their narrow range, + Quaint tradition and legend strange + Live on unchallenged, and know no change. + + Old wives spinning their webs of tow, + Or rocking weirdly to and fro + In and out of the peat's dull glow, + + And old men mending their nets of twine, + Talk together of dream and sign, + Talk of the lost ship Palatine,-- + + The ship that, a hundred years before, + Freighted deep with its goodly store, + In the gales of the equinox went ashore. + + The eager islanders one by one + Counted the shots of her signal gun, + And heard the crash when she drove right on! + + Into the teeth of death she sped + (May God forgive the hands that fed + The false lights over the rocky Head!) + + O men and brothers! what sights were there! + White upturned faces, hands stretched in prayer! + Where waves had pity, could ye not spare? + + Down swooped the wreckers, like birds of prey + Tearing the heart of the ship away, + And the dead had never a word to say. + + And then, with ghastly shimmer and shine + Over the rocks and the seething brine, + They burned the wreck of the Palatine. + + In their cruel hearts, as they homeward sped, + "The sea and the rocks are dumb," they said + "There 'll be no reckoning with the dead." + + But the year went round, and when once more + Along their foam-white curves of shore + They heard the line-storm rave and roar, + + Behold! again, with shimmer and shine, + Over the rocks and the seething brine, + The flaming wreck of the Palatine! + + So, haply in fitter words than these, + Mending their nets on their patient knees + They tell the legend of Manisees. + + Nor looks nor tones a doubt betray; + "It is known to us all," they quietly say; + "We too have seen it in our day." + + Is there, then, no death for a word once spoken? + Was never a deed but left its token + Written on tables never broken? + + Do the elements subtle reflections give? + Do pictures of all the ages live + On Nature's infinite negative, + + Which, half in sport, in malice half, + She shows at times, with shudder or laugh, + Phantom and shadow in photograph? + + For still, on many a moonless night, + From Kingston Head and from Montauk light + The spectre kindles and burns in sight. + + Now low and dim, now clear and higher, + Leaps up the terrible Ghost of Fire, + Then, slowly sinking, the flames expire. + + And the wise Sound skippers, though skies be fine, + Reef their sails when they see the sign + Of the blazing wreck of the Palatine! + 1867. + + . . . . . + + "A fitter tale to scream than sing," + The Book-man said. "Well, fancy, then," + The Reader answered, "on the wing + The sea-birds shriek it, not for men, + But in the ear of wave and breeze!" + The Traveller mused: "Your Manisees + Is fairy-land: off Narragansett shore + Who ever saw the isle or heard its name before? + + "'T is some strange land of Flyaway, + Whose dreamy shore the ship beguiles, + St. Brandan's in its sea-mist gray, + Or sunset loom of Fortunate Isles!" + "No ghost, but solid turf and rock + Is the good island known as Block," + The Reader said. "For beauty and for ease + I chose its Indian name, soft-flowing Manisees! + + "But let it pass; here is a bit + Of unrhymed story, with a hint + Of the old preaching mood in it, + The sort of sidelong moral squint + Our friend objects to, which has grown, + I fear, a habit of my own. + 'Twas written when the Asian plague drew near, + And the land held its breath and paled with sudden fear." + + + + +ABRAHAM DAVENPORT + +The famous Dark Day of New England, May 19, 1780, was a physical puzzle +for many years to our ancestors, but its occurrence brought something +more than philosophical speculation into the winds of those who passed +through it. The incident of Colonel Abraham Davenport's sturdy protest +is a matter of history. + + + In the old days (a custom laid aside + With breeches and cocked hats) the people sent + Their wisest men to make the public laws. + And so, from a brown homestead, where the Sound + Drinks the small tribute of the Mianas, + Waved over by the woods of Rippowams, + And hallowed by pure lives and tranquil deaths, + Stamford sent up to the councils of the State + Wisdom and grace in Abraham Davenport. + + 'T was on a May-day of the far old year + Seventeen hundred eighty, that there fell + Over the bloom and sweet life of the Spring, + Over the fresh earth and the heaven of noon, + A horror of great darkness, like the night + In day of which the Norland sagas tell,-- + + The Twilight of the Gods. The low-hung sky + Was black with ominous clouds, save where its rim + Was fringed with a dull glow, like that which climbs + The crater's sides from the red hell below. + Birds ceased to sing, and all the barn-yard fowls + Roosted; the cattle at the pasture bars + Lowed, and looked homeward; bats on leathern wings + Flitted abroad; the sounds of labor died; + Men prayed, and women wept; all ears grew sharp + To hear the doom-blast of the trumpet shatter + The black sky, that the dreadful face of Christ + Might look from the rent clouds, not as he looked + A loving guest at Bethany, but stern + As Justice and inexorable Law. + + Meanwhile in the old State House, dim as ghosts, + Sat the lawgivers of Connecticut, + Trembling beneath their legislative robes. + "It is the Lord's Great Day! Let us adjourn," + Some said; and then, as if with one accord, + All eyes were turned to Abraham Davenport. + He rose, slow cleaving with his steady voice + The intolerable hush. "This well may be + The Day of Judgment which the world awaits; + But be it so or not, I only know + My present duty, and my Lord's command + To occupy till He come. So at the post + Where He hath set me in His providence, + I choose, for one, to meet Him face to face,-- + No faithless servant frightened from my task, + But ready when the Lord of the harvest calls; + And therefore, with all reverence, I would say, + Let God do His work, we will see to ours. + Bring in the candles." And they brought them in. + + Then by the flaring lights the Speaker read, + Albeit with husky voice and shaking hands, + An act to amend an act to regulate + The shad and alewive fisheries. Whereupon + Wisely and well spake Abraham Davenport, + Straight to the question, with no figures of speech + Save the ten Arab signs, yet not without + The shrewd dry humor natural to the man + His awe-struck colleagues listening all the while, + Between the pauses of his argument, + To hear the thunder of the wrath of God + Break from the hollow trumpet of the cloud. + + And there he stands in memory to this day, + Erect, self-poised, a rugged face, half seen + Against the background of unnatural dark, + A witness to the ages as they pass, + That simple duty hath no place for fear. + 1866. + + . . . . . + + He ceased: just then the ocean seemed + To lift a half-faced moon in sight; + And, shore-ward, o'er the waters gleamed, + From crest to crest, a line of light, + Such as of old, with solemn awe, + The fishers by Gennesaret saw, + When dry-shod o'er it walked the Son of God, + Tracking the waves with light where'er his sandals trod. + + Silently for a space each eye + Upon that sudden glory turned + Cool from the land the breeze blew by, + The tent-ropes flapped, the long beach churned + Its waves to foam; on either hand + Stretched, far as sight, the hills of sand; + With bays of marsh, and capes of bush and tree, + The wood's black shore-line loomed beyond the meadowy sea. + + The lady rose to leave. "One song, + Or hymn," they urged, "before we part." + And she, with lips to which belong + Sweet intuitions of all art, + Gave to the winds of night a strain + Which they who heard would hear again; + And to her voice the solemn ocean lent, + Touching its harp of sand, a deep accompaniment. + + + + +THE WORSHIP OF NATURE. + + The harp at Nature's advent strung + Has never ceased to play; + The song the stars of morning sung + Has never died away. + + And prayer is made, and praise is given, + By all things near and far; + The ocean looketh up to heaven, + And mirrors every star. + + Its waves are kneeling on the strand, + As kneels the human knee, + Their white locks bowing to the sand, + The priesthood of the sea' + + They pour their glittering treasures forth, + Their gifts of pearl they bring, + And all the listening hills of earth + Take up the song they sing. + + The green earth sends her incense up + From many a mountain shrine; + From folded leaf and dewy cup + She pours her sacred wine. + + The mists above the morning rills + Rise white as wings of prayer; + The altar-curtains of the hills + Are sunset's purple air. + + The winds with hymns of praise are loud, + Or low with sobs of pain,-- + The thunder-organ of the cloud, + The dropping tears of rain. + + With drooping head and branches crossed + The twilight forest grieves, + Or speaks with tongues of Pentecost + From all its sunlit leaves. + + The blue sky is the temple's arch, + Its transept earth and air, + The music of its starry march + The chorus of a prayer. + + So Nature keeps the reverent frame + With which her years began, + And all her signs and voices shame + The prayerless heart of man. + + . . . . . + + The singer ceased. The moon's white rays + Fell on the rapt, still face of her. + "_Allah il Allah_! He hath praise + From all things," said the Traveller. + "Oft from the desert's silent nights, + And mountain hymns of sunset lights, + My heart has felt rebuke, as in his tent + The Moslem's prayer has shamed my Christian knee unbent." + + He paused, and lo! far, faint, and slow + The bells in Newbury's steeples tolled + The twelve dead hours; the lamp burned low; + The singer sought her canvas fold. + One sadly said, "At break of day + We strike our tent and go our way." + But one made answer cheerily, "Never fear, + We'll pitch this tent of ours in type another year." + + + + +AT SUNDOWN, TO E. C. S. + + Poet and friend of poets, if thy glass + Detects no flower in winter's tuft of grass, + Let this slight token of the debt I owe + Outlive for thee December's frozen day, + And, like the arbutus budding under snow, + Take bloom and fragrance from some morn of May + When he who gives it shall have gone the way + Where faith shall see and reverent trust shall know. + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS OF 1888. + + Low in the east, against a white, cold dawn, + The black-lined silhouette of the woods was drawn, + And on a wintry waste + Of frosted streams and hillsides bare and brown, + Through thin cloud-films, a pallid ghost looked down, + The waning moon half-faced! + + In that pale sky and sere, snow-waiting earth, + What sign was there of the immortal birth? + What herald of the One? + Lo! swift as thought the heavenly radiance came, + A rose-red splendor swept the sky like flame, + Up rolled the round, bright sun! + + And all was changed. From a transfigured world + The moon's ghost fled, the smoke of home-hearths curled + Up the still air unblown. + In Orient warmth and brightness, did that morn + O'er Nain and Nazareth, when the Christ was born, + Break fairer than our own? + + The morning's promise noon and eve fulfilled + In warm, soft sky and landscape hazy-hilled + And sunset fair as they; + A sweet reminder of His holiest time, + A summer-miracle in our winter clime, + God gave a perfect day. + + The near was blended with the old and far, + And Bethlehem's hillside and the Magi's star + Seemed here, as there and then,-- + Our homestead pine-tree was the Syrian palm, + Our heart's desire the angels' midnight psalm, + Peace, and good-will to men! + + + + +THE VOW OF WASHINGTON. + +Read in New York, April 30, 1889, at the Centennial Celebration of the +Inauguration of George Washington as the first President of the United +States. + + + The sword was sheathed: in April's sun + Lay green the fields by Freedom won; + And severed sections, weary of debates, + Joined hands at last and were United States. + + O City sitting by the Sea + How proud the day that dawned on thee, + When the new era, long desired, began, + And, in its need, the hour had found the man! + + One thought the cannon salvos spoke, + The resonant bell-tower's vibrant stroke, + The voiceful streets, the plaudit-echoing halls, + And prayer and hymn borne heavenward from St. Paul's! + + How felt the land in every part + The strong throb of a nation's heart, + As its great leader gave, with reverent awe, + His pledge to Union, Liberty, and Law. + + That pledge the heavens above him heard, + That vow the sleep of centuries stirred; + In world-wide wonder listening peoples bent + Their gaze on Freedom's great experiment. + + Could it succeed? Of honor sold + And hopes deceived all history told. + Above the wrecks that strewed the mournful past, + Was the long dream of ages true at last? + + Thank God! the people's choice was just, + The one man equal to his trust, + Wise beyond lore, and without weakness good, + Calm in the strength of flawless rectitude. + + His rule of justice, order, peace, + Made possible the world's release; + Taught prince and serf that power is but a trust, + And rule, alone, which serves the ruled, is just; + + That Freedom generous is, but strong + In hate of fraud and selfish wrong, + Pretence that turns her holy truths to lies, + And lawless license masking in her guise. + + Land of his love! with one glad voice + Let thy great sisterhood rejoice; + A century's suns o'er thee have risen and set, + And, God be praised, we are one nation yet. + + And still we trust the years to be + Shall prove his hope was destiny, + Leaving our flag, with all its added stars, + Unrent by faction and unstained by wars. + + Lo! where with patient toil he nursed + And trained the new-set plant at first, + The widening branches of a stately tree + Stretch from the sunrise to the sunset sea. + + And in its broad and sheltering shade, + Sitting with none to make afraid, + Were we now silent, through each mighty limb, + The winds of heaven would sing the praise of him. + + Our first and best!--his ashes lie + Beneath his own Virginian sky. + Forgive, forget, O true and just and brave, + The storm that swept above thy sacred grave. + + For, ever in the awful strife + And dark hours of the nation's life, + Through the fierce tumult pierced his warning word, + Their father's voice his erring children heard. + + The change for which he prayed and sought + In that sharp agony was wrought; + No partial interest draws its alien line + 'Twixt North and South, the cypress and the pine! + + One people now, all doubt beyond, + His name shall be our Union-bond; + We lift our hands to Heaven, and here and now. + Take on our lips the old Centennial vow. + + For rule and trust must needs be ours; + Chooser and chosen both are powers + Equal in service as in rights; the claim + Of Duty rests on each and all the same. + + Then let the sovereign millions, where + Our banner floats in sun and air, + From the warm palm-lands to Alaska's cold, + Repeat with us the pledge a century old? + + + + +THE CAPTAIN'S WELL. + +The story of the shipwreck of Captain Valentine Bagley, on the coast of +Arabia, and his sufferings in the desert, has been familiar from my +childhood. It has been partially told in the singularly beautiful lines +of my friend, Harriet Prescott Spofford, an the occasion of a public +celebration at the Newburyport Library. To the charm and felicity of her +verse, as far as it goes, nothing can be added; but in the following +ballad I have endeavored to give a fuller detail of the touching +incident upon which it is founded. + + + From pain and peril, by land and main, + The shipwrecked sailor came back again; + + And like one from the dead, the threshold cross'd + Of his wondering home, that had mourned him lost. + + Where he sat once more with his kith and kin, + And welcomed his neighbors thronging in. + + But when morning came he called for his spade. + "I must pay my debt to the Lord," he said. + + "Why dig you here?" asked the passer-by; + "Is there gold or silver the road so nigh?" + + "No, friend," he answered: "but under this sod + Is the blessed water, the wine of God." + + "Water! the Powow is at your back, + And right before you the Merrimac, + + "And look you up, or look you down, + There 's a well-sweep at every door in town." + + "True," he said, "we have wells of our own; + But this I dig for the Lord alone." + + Said the other: "This soil is dry, you know. + I doubt if a spring can be found below; + + "You had better consult, before you dig, + Some water-witch, with a hazel twig." + + "No, wet or dry, I will dig it here, + Shallow or deep, if it takes a year. + + "In the Arab desert, where shade is none, + The waterless land of sand and sun, + + "Under the pitiless, brazen sky + My burning throat as the sand was dry; + + "My crazed brain listened in fever dreams + For plash of buckets and ripple of streams; + + "And opening my eyes to the blinding glare, + And my lips to the breath of the blistering air, + + "Tortured alike by the heavens and earth, + I cursed, like Job, the day of my birth. + + "Then something tender, and sad, and mild + As a mother's voice to her wandering child, + + "Rebuked my frenzy; and bowing my head, + I prayed as I never before had prayed: + + "Pity me, God! for I die of thirst; + Take me out of this land accurst; + + "And if ever I reach my home again, + Where earth has springs, and the sky has rain, + + "I will dig a well for the passers-by, + And none shall suffer from thirst as I. + + "I saw, as I prayed, my home once more, + The house, the barn, the elms by the door, + + "The grass-lined road, that riverward wound, + The tall slate stones of the burying-ground, + + "The belfry and steeple on meeting-house hill, + The brook with its dam, and gray grist mill, + + "And I knew in that vision beyond the sea, + The very place where my well must be. + + "God heard my prayer in that evil day; + He led my feet in their homeward way, + + "From false mirage and dried-up well, + And the hot sand storms of a land of hell, + + "Till I saw at last through the coast-hill's gap, + A city held in its stony lap, + + "The mosques and the domes of scorched Muscat, + And my heart leaped up with joy thereat; + + "For there was a ship at anchor lying, + A Christian flag at its mast-head flying, + + "And sweetest of sounds to my homesick ear + Was my native tongue in the sailor's cheer. + + "Now the Lord be thanked, I am back again, + Where earth has springs, and the skies have rain, + + "And the well I promised by Oman's Sea, + I am digging for him in Amesbury." + + His kindred wept, and his neighbors said + "The poor old captain is out of his head." + + But from morn to noon, and from noon to night, + He toiled at his task with main and might; + + And when at last, from the loosened earth, + Under his spade the stream gushed forth, + + And fast as he climbed to his deep well's brim, + The water he dug for followed him, + + He shouted for joy: "I have kept my word, + And here is the well I promised the Lord!" + + The long years came and the long years went, + And he sat by his roadside well content; + + He watched the travellers, heat-oppressed, + Pause by the way to drink and rest, + + And the sweltering horses dip, as they drank, + Their nostrils deep in the cool, sweet tank, + + And grateful at heart, his memory went + Back to that waterless Orient, + + And the blessed answer of prayer, which came + To the earth of iron and sky of flame. + + And when a wayfarer weary and hot, + Kept to the mid road, pausing not + + For the well's refreshing, he shook his head; + "He don't know the value of water," he said; + + "Had he prayed for a drop, as I have done, + In the desert circle of sand and sun, + + "He would drink and rest, and go home to tell + That God's best gift is the wayside well!" + + + + +AN OUTDOOR RECEPTION. + +The substance of these lines, hastily pencilled several years ago, I +find among such of my unprinted scraps as have escaped the waste-basket +and the fire. In transcribing it I have made some changes, additions, +and omissions. + + + On these green banks, where falls too soon + The shade of Autumn's afternoon, + The south wind blowing soft and sweet, + The water gliding at nay feet, + The distant northern range uplit + By the slant sunshine over it, + With changes of the mountain mist + From tender blush to amethyst, + The valley's stretch of shade and gleam + Fair as in Mirza's Bagdad dream, + With glad young faces smiling near + And merry voices in my ear, + I sit, methinks, as Hafiz might + In Iran's Garden of Delight. + For Persian roses blushing red, + Aster and gentian bloom instead; + For Shiraz wine, this mountain air; + For feast, the blueberries which I share + With one who proffers with stained hands + Her gleanings from yon pasture lands, + Wild fruit that art and culture spoil, + The harvest of an untilled soil; + And with her one whose tender eyes + Reflect the change of April skies, + Midway 'twixt child and maiden yet, + Fresh as Spring's earliest violet; + And one whose look and voice and ways + Make where she goes idyllic days; + And one whose sweet, still countenance + Seems dreamful of a child's romance; + And others, welcome as are these, + Like and unlike, varieties + Of pearls on nature's chaplet strung, + And all are fair, for all are young. + Gathered from seaside cities old, + From midland prairie, lake, and wold, + From the great wheat-fields, which might feed + The hunger of a world at need, + In healthful change of rest and play + Their school-vacations glide away. + + No critics these: they only see + An old and kindly friend in me, + In whose amused, indulgent look + Their innocent mirth has no rebuke. + They scarce can know my rugged rhymes, + The harsher songs of evil times, + Nor graver themes in minor keys + Of life's and death's solemnities; + But haply, as they bear in mind + Some verse of lighter, happier kind,-- + Hints of the boyhood of the man, + Youth viewed from life's meridian, + Half seriously and half in play + My pleasant interviewers pay + Their visit, with no fell intent + Of taking notes and punishment. + + As yonder solitary pine + Is ringed below with flower and vine, + More favored than that lonely tree, + The bloom of girlhood circles me. + In such an atmosphere of youth + I half forget my age's truth; + The shadow of my life's long date + Runs backward on the dial-plate, + Until it seems a step might span + The gulf between the boy and man. + + My young friends smile, as if some jay + On bleak December's leafless spray + Essayed to sing the songs of May. + Well, let them smile, and live to know, + When their brown locks are flecked with snow, + 'T is tedious to be always sage + And pose the dignity of age, + While so much of our early lives + On memory's playground still survives, + And owns, as at the present hour, + The spell of youth's magnetic power. + + But though I feel, with Solomon, + 'T is pleasant to behold the sun, + I would not if I could repeat + A life which still is good and sweet; + I keep in age, as in my prime, + A not uncheerful step with time, + And, grateful for all blessings sent, + I go the common way, content + To make no new experiment. + On easy terms with law and fate, + For what must be I calmly wait, + And trust the path I cannot see,-- + That God is good sufficeth me. + And when at last on life's strange play + The curtain falls, I only pray + That hope may lose itself in truth, + And age in Heaven's immortal youth, + And all our loves and longing prove + The foretaste of diviner love. + + The day is done. Its afterglow + Along the west is burning low. + My visitors, like birds, have flown; + I hear their voices, fainter grown, + And dimly through the dusk I see + Their 'kerchiefs wave good-night to me,-- + Light hearts of girlhood, knowing nought + Of all the cheer their coming brought; + And, in their going, unaware + Of silent-following feet of prayer + Heaven make their budding promise good + With flowers of gracious womanhood! + + + + +R. S. S., AT DEER ISLAND ON THE MERRIMAC. + + Make, for he loved thee well, our Merrimac, + From wave and shore a low and long lament + For him, whose last look sought thee, as he went + The unknown way from which no step comes back. + And ye, O ancient pine-trees, at whose feet + He watched in life the sunset's reddening glow, + Let the soft south wind through your needles blow + A fitting requiem tenderly and sweet! + No fonder lover of all lovely things + Shall walk where once he walked, no smile more glad + Greet friends than his who friends in all men had, + Whose pleasant memory, to that Island clings, + Where a dear mourner in the home he left + Of love's sweet solace cannot be bereft. + + + + +BURNING DRIFT-WOOD + + Before my drift-wood fire I sit, + And see, with every waif I burn, + Old dreams and fancies coloring it, + And folly's unlaid ghosts return. + + O ships of mine, whose swift keels cleft + The enchanted sea on which they sailed, + Are these poor fragments only left + Of vain desires and hopes that failed? + + Did I not watch from them the light + Of sunset on my towers in Spain, + And see, far off, uploom in sight + The Fortunate Isles I might not gain? + + Did sudden lift of fog reveal + Arcadia's vales of song and spring, + And did I pass, with grazing keel, + The rocks whereon the sirens sing? + + Have I not drifted hard upon + The unmapped regions lost to man, + The cloud-pitched tents of Prester John, + The palace domes of Kubla Khan? + + Did land winds blow from jasmine flowers, + Where Youth the ageless Fountain fills? + Did Love make sign from rose blown bowers, + And gold from Eldorado's hills? + + Alas! the gallant ships, that sailed + On blind Adventure's errand sent, + Howe'er they laid their courses, failed + To reach the haven of Content. + + And of my ventures, those alone + Which Love had freighted, safely sped, + Seeking a good beyond my own, + By clear-eyed Duty piloted. + + O mariners, hoping still to meet + The luck Arabian voyagers met, + And find in Bagdad's moonlit street, + Haroun al Raschid walking yet, + + Take with you, on your Sea of Dreams, + The fair, fond fancies dear to youth. + I turn from all that only seems, + And seek the sober grounds of truth. + + What matter that it is not May, + That birds have flown, and trees are bare, + That darker grows the shortening day, + And colder blows the wintry air! + + The wrecks of passion and desire, + The castles I no more rebuild, + May fitly feed my drift-wood fire, + And warm the hands that age has chilled. + + Whatever perished with my ships, + I only know the best remains; + A song of praise is on my lips + For losses which are now my gains. + + Heap high my hearth! No worth is lost; + No wisdom with the folly dies. + Burn on, poor shreds, your holocaust + Shall be my evening sacrifice. + + Far more than all I dared to dream, + Unsought before my door I see; + On wings of fire and steeds of steam + The world's great wonders come to me, + + And holier signs, unmarked before, + Of Love to seek and Power to save,-- + The righting of the wronged and poor, + The man evolving from the slave; + + And life, no longer chance or fate, + Safe in the gracious Fatherhood. + I fold o'er-wearied hands and wait, + In full assurance of the good. + + And well the waiting time must be, + Though brief or long its granted days, + If Faith and Hope and Charity + Sit by my evening hearth-fire's blaze. + + And with them, friends whom Heaven has spared, + Whose love my heart has comforted, + And, sharing all my joys, has shared + My tender memories of the dead,-- + + Dear souls who left us lonely here, + Bound on their last, long voyage, to whom + We, day by day, are drawing near, + Where every bark has sailing room! + + I know the solemn monotone + Of waters calling unto me + I know from whence the airs have blown + That whisper of the Eternal Sea. + + As low my fires of drift-wood burn, + I hear that sea's deep sounds increase, + And, fair in sunset light, discern + Its mirage-lifted Isles of Peace. + + + + +O. W. HOLMES ON HIS EIGHTIETH BIRTH-DAY. + + Climbing a path which leads back never more + We heard behind his footsteps and his cheer; + Now, face to face, we greet him standing here + Upon the lonely summit of Fourscore + Welcome to us, o'er whom the lengthened day + Is closing and the shadows colder grow, + His genial presence, like an afterglow, + Following the one just vanishing away. + Long be it ere the table shall be set + For the last breakfast of the Autocrat, + And love repeat with smiles and tears thereat + His own sweet songs that time shall not forget. + Waiting with us the call to come up higher, + Life is not less, the heavens are only higher! + + + + +JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. + +From purest wells of English undefiled +None deeper drank than he, the New World's child, +Who in the language of their farm-fields spoke +The wit and wisdom of New England folk, +Shaming a monstrous wrong. The world-wide laugh +Provoked thereby might well have shaken half +The walls of Slavery down, ere yet the ball +And mine of battle overthrew them all. + + + + +HAVERHILL. 1640-1890. + +Read at the Celebration of the Two Hundred and Fiftieth Anniversary of +the City, July 2, 1890. + + + O river winding to the sea! + We call the old time back to thee; + From forest paths and water-ways + The century-woven veil we raise. + + The voices of to-day are dumb, + Unheard its sounds that go and come; + We listen, through long-lapsing years, + To footsteps of the pioneers. + + Gone steepled town and cultured plain, + The wilderness returns again, + The drear, untrodden solitude, + The gloom and mystery of the wood! + + Once more the bear and panther prowl, + The wolf repeats his hungry howl, + And, peering through his leafy screen, + The Indian's copper face is seen. + + We see, their rude-built huts beside, + Grave men and women anxious-eyed, + And wistful youth remembering still + Dear homes in England's Haverhill. + + We summon forth to mortal view + Dark Passaquo and Saggahew,-- + Wild chiefs, who owned the mighty sway + Of wizard Passaconaway. + + Weird memories of the border town, + By old tradition handed down, + In chance and change before us pass + Like pictures in a magic glass,-- + + The terrors of the midnight raid, + The-death-concealing ambuscade, + The winter march, through deserts wild, + Of captive mother, wife, and child. + + Ah! bleeding hands alone subdued + And tamed the savage habitude + Of forests hiding beasts of prey, + And human shapes as fierce as they. + + Slow from the plough the woods withdrew, + Slowly each year the corn-lands grew; + Nor fire, nor frost, nor foe could kill + The Saxon energy of will. + + And never in the hamlet's bound + Was lack of sturdy manhood found, + And never failed the kindred good + Of brave and helpful womanhood. + + That hamlet now a city is, + Its log-built huts are palaces; + The wood-path of the settler's cow + Is Traffic's crowded highway now. + + And far and wide it stretches still, + Along its southward sloping hill, + And overlooks on either hand + A rich and many-watered land. + + And, gladdening all the landscape, fair + As Pison was to Eden's pair, + Our river to its valley brings + The blessing of its mountain springs. + + And Nature holds with narrowing space, + From mart and crowd, her old-time grace, + And guards with fondly jealous arms + The wild growths of outlying farms. + + Her sunsets on Kenoza fall, + Her autumn leaves by Saltonstall; + No lavished gold can richer make + Her opulence of hill and lake. + + Wise was the choice which led out sires + To kindle here their household fires, + And share the large content of all + Whose lines in pleasant places fall. + + More dear, as years on years advance, + We prize the old inheritance, + And feel, as far and wide we roam, + That all we seek we leave at home. + + Our palms are pines, our oranges + Are apples on our orchard trees; + Our thrushes are our nightingales, + Our larks the blackbirds of our vales. + + No incense which the Orient burns + Is sweeter than our hillside ferns; + What tropic splendor can outvie + Our autumn woods, our sunset sky? + + If, where the slow years came and went, + And left not affluence, but content, + Now flashes in our dazzled eyes + The electric light of enterprise; + + And if the old idyllic ease + Seems lost in keen activities, + And crowded workshops now replace + The hearth's and farm-field's rustic grace; + + + No dull, mechanic round of toil + Life's morning charm can quite despoil; + And youth and beauty, hand in hand, + Will always find enchanted land. + + No task is ill where hand and brain + And skill and strength have equal gain, + And each shall each in honor hold, + And simple manhood outweigh gold. + + Earth shall be near to Heaven when all + That severs man from man shall fall, + For, here or there, salvation's plan + Alone is love of God and man. + + O dwellers by the Merrimac, + The heirs of centuries at your back, + Still reaping where you have not sown, + A broader field is now your own. + + Hold fast your Puritan heritage, + But let the free thought of the age + Its light and hope and sweetness add + To the stern faith the fathers had. + + Adrift on Time's returnless tide, + As waves that follow waves, we glide. + God grant we leave upon the shore + Some waif of good it lacked before; + + Some seed, or flower, or plant of worth, + Some added beauty to the earth; + Some larger hope, some thought to make + The sad world happier for its sake. + + As tenants of uncertain stay, + So may we live our little day + That only grateful hearts shall fill + The homes we leave in Haverhill. + + The singer of a farewell rhyme, + Upon whose outmost verge of time + The shades of night are falling down, + I pray, God bless the good old town! + + + + +TO G. G. AN AUTOGRAPH. + +The daughter of Daniel Gurteen, Esq., delegate from Haverhill, England, +to the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary celebration of Haverhill, +Massachusetts. The Rev. John Ward of the former place and many of his +old parishioners were the pioneer settlers of the new town on the +Merrimac. + + + Graceful in name and in thyself, our river + None fairer saw in John Ward's pilgrim flock, + Proof that upon their century-rooted stock + The English roses bloom as fresh as ever. + + Take the warm welcome of new friends with thee, + And listening to thy home's familiar chime + Dream that thou hearest, with it keeping time, + The bells on Merrimac sound across the sea. + + Think of our thrushes, when the lark sings clear, + Of our sweet Mayflowers when the daisies bloom; + And bear to our and thy ancestral home + The kindly greeting of its children here. + + Say that our love survives the severing strain; + That the New England, with the Old, holds fast + The proud, fond memories of a common past; + Unbroken still the ties of blood remain! + + + + +INSCRIPTION + +For the bass-relief by Preston Powers, carved upon the huge boulder in +Denver Park, Col., and representing the Last Indian and the Last Bison. + + The eagle, stooping from yon snow-blown peaks, + For the wild hunter and the bison seeks, + In the changed world below; and finds alone + Their graven semblance in the eternal stone. + + + + +LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. + +Inscription on her Memorial Tablet in Christ Church at Hartford, Conn. + + She sang alone, ere womanhood had known + The gift of song which fills the air to-day + Tender and sweet, a music all her own + May fitly linger where she knelt to pray. + + + + +MILTON + +Inscription on the Memorial Window in St. Margaret's Church, +Westminster, the gift of George W. Childs, of America. + + The new world honors him whose lofty plea + For England's freedom made her own more sure, + Whose song, immortal as its theme, shall be + Their common freehold while both worlds endure. + + + + +THE BIRTHDAY WREATH + +December 17, 1891. + + + Blossom and greenness, making all + The winter birthday tropical, + And the plain Quaker parlors gay, + Have gone from bracket, stand, and wall; + We saw them fade, and droop, and fall, + And laid them tenderly away. + + White virgin lilies, mignonette, + Blown rose, and pink, and violet, + A breath of fragrance passing by; + Visions of beauty and decay, + Colors and shapes that could not stay, + The fairest, sweetest, first to die. + + But still this rustic wreath of mine, + Of acorned oak and needled pine, + And lighter growths of forest lands, + Woven and wound with careful pains, + And tender thoughts, and prayers, remains, + As when it dropped from love's dear hands. + + And not unfitly garlanded, + Is he, who, country-born and bred, + Welcomes the sylvan ring which gives + A feeling of old summer days, + The wild delight of woodland ways, + The glory of the autumn leaves. + + And, if the flowery meed of song + To other bards may well belong, + Be his, who from the farm-field spoke + A word for Freedom when her need + Was not of dulcimer and reed. + This Isthmian wreath of pine and oak. + + + + +THE WIND OF MARCH. + + Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing + Under the sky's gray arch; + Smiling, I watch the shaken elm-boughs, knowing + It is the wind of March. + + Between the passing and the coming season, + This stormy interlude + Gives to our winter-wearied hearts a reason + For trustful gratitude. + + Welcome to waiting ears its harsh forewarning + Of light and warmth to come, + The longed-for joy of Nature's Easter morning, + The earth arisen in bloom. + + In the loud tumult winter's strength is breaking; + I listen to the sound, + As to a voice of resurrection, waking + To life the dead, cold ground. + + Between these gusts, to the soft lapse I hearken + Of rivulets on their way; + I see these tossed and naked tree-tops darken + With the fresh leaves of May. + + This roar of storm, this sky so gray and lowering + Invite the airs of Spring, + A warmer sunshine over fields of flowering, + The bluebird's song and wing. + + Closely behind, the Gulf's warm breezes follow + This northern hurricane, + And, borne thereon, the bobolink and swallow + Shall visit us again. + + And, in green wood-paths, in the kine-fed pasture + And by the whispering rills, + Shall flowers repeat the lesson of the Master, + Taught on his Syrian hills. + + Blow, then, wild wind! thy roar shall end in singing, + Thy chill in blossoming; + Come, like Bethesda's troubling angel, bringing + The healing of the Spring. + + + + +BETWEEN THE GATES. + + Between the gates of birth and death + An old and saintly pilgrim passed, + With look of one who witnesseth + The long-sought goal at last. + + O thou whose reverent feet have found + The Master's footprints in thy way, + And walked thereon as holy ground, + A boon of thee I pray. + + "My lack would borrow thy excess, + My feeble faith the strength of thine; + I need thy soul's white saintliness + To hide the stains of mine. + + "The grace and favor else denied + May well be granted for thy sake." + So, tempted, doubting, sorely tried, + A younger pilgrim spake. + + "Thy prayer, my son, transcends my gift; + No power is mine," the sage replied, + "The burden of a soul to lift + Or stain of sin to hide. + + "Howe'er the outward life may seem, + For pardoning grace we all must pray; + No man his brother can redeem + Or a soul's ransom pay. + + "Not always age is growth of good; + Its years have losses with their gain; + Against some evil youth withstood + Weak hands may strive in vain. + + "With deeper voice than any speech + Of mortal lips from man to man, + What earth's unwisdom may not teach + The Spirit only can. + + "Make thou that holy guide thine own, + And following where it leads the way, + The known shall lapse in the unknown + As twilight into day. + + "The best of earth shall still remain, + And heaven's eternal years shall prove + That life and death, and joy and pain, + Are ministers of Love." + + + + +THE LAST EVE OF SUMMER. + + Summer's last sun nigh unto setting shines + Through yon columnar pines, + And on the deepening shadows of the lawn + Its golden lines are drawn. + + Dreaming of long gone summer days like this, + Feeling the wind's soft kiss, + Grateful and glad that failing ear and sight + Have still their old delight, + + I sit alone, and watch the warm, sweet day + Lapse tenderly away; + And, wistful, with a feeling of forecast, + I ask, "Is this the last? + + "Will nevermore for me the seasons run + Their round, and will the sun + Of ardent summers yet to come forget + For me to rise and set?" + + Thou shouldst be here, or I should be with thee + Wherever thou mayst be, + Lips mute, hands clasped, in silences of speech + Each answering unto each. + + For this still hour, this sense of mystery far + Beyond the evening star, + No words outworn suffice on lip or scroll: + The soul would fain with soul + + Wait, while these few swift-passing days fulfil + The wise-disposing Will, + And, in the evening as at morning, trust + The All-Merciful and Just. + + The solemn joy that soul-communion feels + Immortal life reveals; + And human love, its prophecy and sign, + Interprets love divine. + + Come then, in thought, if that alone may be, + O friend! and bring with thee + Thy calm assurance of transcendent Spheres + And the Eternal Years! + + August 31, 1890. + + + + +TO OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. + +8TH Mo. 29TH, 1892. + +This, the last of Mr. Whittier's poems, was written but a few weeks +before his death. + + Among the thousands who with hail and cheer + Will welcome thy new year, + How few of all have passed, as thou and I, + So many milestones by! + + We have grown old together; we have seen, + Our youth and age between, + Two generations leave us, and to-day + We with the third hold way, + + Loving and loved. If thought must backward run + To those who, one by one, + In the great silence and the dark beyond + Vanished with farewells fond, + + Unseen, not lost; our grateful memories still + Their vacant places fill, + And with the full-voiced greeting of new friends + A tenderer whisper blends. + + Linked close in a pathetic brotherhood + Of mingled ill and good, + Of joy and grief, of grandeur and of shame, + For pity more than blame,-- + + The gift is thine the weary world to make + More cheerful for thy sake, + Soothing the ears its Miserere pains, + With the old Hellenic strains, + + Lighting the sullen face of discontent + With smiles for blessings sent. + Enough of selfish wailing has been had, + Thank God! for notes more glad. + + Life is indeed no holiday; therein + Are want, and woe, and sin, + Death and its nameless fears, and over all + Our pitying tears must fall. + + Sorrow is real; but the counterfeit + Which folly brings to it, + We need thy wit and wisdom to resist, + O rarest Optimist! + + Thy hand, old friend! the service of our days, + In differing moods and ways, + May prove to those who follow in our train + Not valueless nor vain. + + Far off, and faint as echoes of a dream, + The songs of boyhood seem, + Yet on our autumn boughs, unflown with spring, + The evening thrushes sing. + + The hour draws near, howe'er delayed and late, + When at the Eternal Gate + We leave the words and works we call our own, + And lift void hands alone + + For love to fill. Our nakedness of soul + Brings to that Gate no toll; + Giftless we come to Him, who all things gives, + And live because He lives. + + + + + +VOLUME V. MARGARET SMITH'S JOURNAL TALES AND SKETCHES + + +The intelligent reader of the following record cannot fail to notice +occasional inaccuracies in respect to persons, places, and dates; and, +as a matter of course, will make due allowance for the prevailing +prejudices and errors of the period to which it relates. That there are +passages indicative of a comparatively recent origin, and calculated to +cast a shade of doubt over the entire narrative, the Editor would be the +last to deny, notwithstanding its general accordance with historical +verities and probabilities. Its merit consists mainly in the fact that +it presents a tolerably lifelike picture of the Past, and introduces us +familiarly to the hearths and homes of New England in the seventeenth +century. + +A full and accurate account of Secretary Rawson and his family is about +to be published by his descendants, to which the reader is referred who +wishes to know more of the personages who figure prominently in this +Journal. + +1866. + + + + + +MARGARET SMITH'S JOURNAL IN THE PROVINCE OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY, 1678-9 + + TALES AND SKETCHES + + MY SUMMER WITH DR. SINGLETARY: A FRAGMENT + + THE LITTLE IRON SOLDIER + PASSACONAWAY + THE OPIUM EATER + THE PROSELYTES + DAVID MATSON + THE FISH I DID N'T CATCH + YANKEE GYPSIES + THE TRAINING + THE CITY OF A DAY + PATUCKET FALLS + FIRST DAY IN LOWELL + THE LIGHTING UP + TAKING COMFORT + CHARMS AND FAIRY FAITH + MAGICIANS AND WITCH FOLK + THE BEAUTIFUL + THE WORLD'S END + THE HEROINE OF LONG POINT + + + + + +MARGARET SMITH'S JOURNAL IN THE PROVINCE OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY 1678-9. + + +BOSTON, May 8, 1678. + +I remember I did promise my kind Cousin Oliver (whom I pray God to have +always in his keeping), when I parted with him nigh unto three months +ago, at mine Uncle Grindall's, that, on coming to this new country, +I would, for his sake and perusal, keep a little journal of whatsoever +did happen both unto myself and unto those with whom I might sojourn; +as also, some account of the country and its marvels, and mine own +cogitations thereon. So I this day make a beginning of the same; +albeit, as my cousin well knoweth, not from any vanity of authorship, +or because of any undue confiding in my poor ability to edify one justly +held in repute among the learned, but because my heart tells me that +what I write, be it ever so faulty, will be read by the partial eye of +my kinsman, and not with the critical observance of the scholar, and +that his love will not find it difficult to excuse what offends his +clerkly judgment. And, to embolden me withal, I will never forget that +I am writing for mine old playmate at hide-and-seek in the farm-house at +Hilton,--the same who used to hunt after flowers for me in the spring, +and who did fill my apron with hazel-nuts in the autumn, and who was +then, I fear, little wiser than his still foolish cousin, who, if she +hath not since learned so many new things as himself, hath perhaps +remembered more of the old. Therefore, without other preface, I will +begin my record. + +Of my voyage out I need not write, as I have spoken of it in my letters +already, and it greatly irks me to think of it. Oh, a very long, dismal +time of sickness and great discomforts, and many sad thoughts of all +I had left behind, and fears of all I was going to meet in the New +England! I can liken it only to an ugly dream. When we got at last +to Boston, the sight of the land and trees, albeit they were exceeding +bleak and bare (it being a late season, and nipping cold), was like unto +a vision of a better world. As we passed the small wooded islands, +which make the bay very pleasant, and entered close upon the town, and +saw the houses; and orchards, and meadows, and the hills beyond covered +with a great growth of wood, my brother, lifting up both of his hands, +cried out, "How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy habitations, O +Israel!" and for my part I did weep for joy and thankfulness of heart, +that God had brought us safely to so fair a haven. Uncle and Aunt +Rawson met us on the wharf, and made us very comfortable at their house, +which is about half a mile from the water-side, at the foot of a hill, +with an oaken forest behind it, to shelter it from the north wind, which +is here very piercing. Uncle is Secretary of the Massachusetts, and +spends a great part of his time in town; and his wife and family are +with him in the winter season, but they spend their summers at his +plantation on the Merrimac River, in Newbury. His daughter, Rebecca, +is just about my age, very tall and lady-looking; she is like her +brother John, who was at Uncle Hilton's last year. She hath, moreover, +a pleasant wit, and hath seen much goodly company, being greatly admired +by the young men of family and distinction in the Province. She hath +been very kind to me, telling me that she looked upon me as a sister. +I have been courteously entertained, moreover, by many of the principal +people, both of the reverend clergy and the magistracy. Nor must I +forbear to mention a visit which I paid with Uncle and Aunt Rawson at +the house of an aged magistrate of high esteem and influence in these +parts. He saluted me courteously, and made inquiries concerning our +family, and whether I had been admitted into the Church. On my telling +him that I had not, he knit his brows, and looked at me very sternly. + +"Mr. Rawson," said he, "your niece, I fear me, has much more need of +spiritual adorning than of such gewgaws as these," and took hold of my +lace ruff so hard that I heard the stitches break; and then he pulled +out my sleeves, to see how wide they were, though they were only half an +ell. Madam ventured to speak a word to encourage me, for she saw I was +much abashed and flustered, yet he did not heed her, but went on talking +very loud against the folly and the wasteful wantonness of the times. +Poor Madam is a quiet, sickly-looking woman, and seems not a little in +awe of her husband, at the which I do not marvel, for he hath a very +impatient, forbidding way with him, and, I must say, seemed to carry +himself harshly at times towards her. Uncle Rawson says he has had much +to try his temper; that there have been many and sore difficulties in +Church as well as State; and he hath bitter enemies, in some of the +members of the General Court, who count him too severe with the Quakers +and other disturbers and ranters. I told him it was no doubt true; but +that I thought it a bad use of the Lord's chastenings to abuse one's +best friends for the wrongs done by enemies; and, that to be made to +atone for what went ill in Church or State, was a kind of vicarious +suffering that, if I was in Madam's place, I should not bear with half +her patience and sweetness. + + + +Ipswitch, near Agawam, May 12. + +We set out day before yesterday on our journey to Newbury. There were +eight of us,--Rebecca Rawson and her sister, Thomas Broughton, his wife, +and their man-servant, my brother Leonard and myself, and young Robert +Pike, of Newbury, who had been to Boston on business, his father having +great fisheries in the river as well as the sea. He is, I can perceive, +a great admirer of my cousin, and indeed not without reason; for she +hath in mind and person, in her graceful carriage and pleasant +discourse, and a certain not unpleasing waywardness, as of a merry +child, that which makes her company sought of all. Our route the first +day lay through the woods and along the borders of great marshes and +meadows on the seashore. We came to Linne at night, and stopped at the +house of a kinsman of Robert Pike's,--a man of some substance and note +in that settlement. We were tired and hungry, and the supper of warm +Indian bread and sweet milk relished quite as well as any I ever ate in +the Old Country. The next day we went on over a rough road to Wenham, +through Salem, which is quite a pleasant town. Here we stopped until +this morning, when we again mounted our horses, and reached this place, +after a smart ride of three hours. The weather in the morning was warm +and soft as our summer days at home; and, as we rode through the woods, +where the young leaves were fluttering, and the white blossoms of the +wind-flowers, and the blue violets and the yellow blooming of the +cowslips in the low grounds, were seen on either hand, and the birds all +the time making a great and pleasing melody in the branches, I was glad +of heart as a child, and thought if my beloved friends and Cousin Oliver +were only with us, I could never wish to leave so fair a country. + +Just before we reached Agawam, as I was riding a little before my +companions, I was startled greatly by the sight of an Indian. He was +standing close to the bridle-path, his half-naked body partly hidden by +a clump of white birches, through which he looked out on me with eyes +like two live coals. I cried for my brother and turned my horse, when +Robert Pike came up and bid me be of cheer, for he knew the savage, and +that he was friendly. Whereupon, he bade him come out of the bushes, +which he did, after a little parley. He was a tall man, of very fair +and comely make, and wore a red woollen blanket with beads and small +clam-shells jingling about it. His skin was swarthy, not black like a +Moor or Guinea-man, but of a color not unlike that of tarnished copper +coin. He spake but little, and that in his own tongue, very harsh and +strange-sounding to my ear. Robert Pike tells me that he is Chief of +the Agawams, once a great nation in these parts, but now quite small and +broken. As we rode on, and from the top of a hill got a fair view of +the great sea off at the east, Robert Pike bade me notice a little bay, +around which I could see four or five small, peaked huts or tents, +standing just where the white sands of the beach met the green line of +grass and bushes of the uplands. + +"There," said he, "are their summer-houses, which they build near unto +their fishing-grounds and corn-fields. In the winter they go far back +into the wilderness, where game is plenty of all kinds, and there build +their wigwams in warm valleys thick with trees, which do serve to +shelter them from the winds." + +"Let us look into them," said I to Cousin Rebecca; "it seems but a +stone's throw from our way." + +She tried to dissuade me, by calling them a dirty, foul people; but +seeing I was not to be put off, she at last consented, and we rode aside +down the hill, the rest following. On our way we had the misfortune to +ride over their corn-field; at the which, two or three women and as many +boys set up a yell very hideous to hear; whereat Robert Pike came up, +and appeased them by giving them some money and a drink of Jamaica +spirits, with which they seemed vastly pleased. I looked into one of +their huts; it was made of poles like unto a tent, only it was covered +with the silver-colored bark of the birch, instead of hempen stuff. A +bark mat, braided of many exceeding brilliant colors, covered a goodly +part of the space inside; and from the poles we saw fishes hanging, and +strips of dried meat. On a pile of skins in the corner sat a young +woman with a child a-nursing; they both looked sadly wild and neglected; +yet had she withal a pleasant face, and as she bent over her little one, +her long, straight, and black hair falling over him, and murmuring a low +and very plaintive melody, I forgot everything save that she was a woman +and a mother, and I felt my heart greatly drawn towards her. So, giving +my horse in charge, I ventured in to her, speaking as kindly as I could, +and asking to see her child. She understood me, and with a smile held +up her little papoose, as she called him,--who, to say truth, I could +not call very pretty. He seemed to have a wild, shy look, like the +offspring of an untamed, animal. The woman wore a blanket, gaudily +fringed, and she had a string of beads on her neck. She took down a +basket, woven of white and red willows, and pressed me to taste of her +bread; which I did, that I might not offend her courtesy by refusing. +It was not of ill taste, although so hard one could scarcely bite it, +and was made of corn meal unleavened, mixed with a dried berry, which +gives it a sweet flavor. She told me, in her broken way, that the whole +tribe now numbered only twenty-five men and women, counting out the +number very fast with yellow grains of corn, on the corner of her +blanket. She was, she said, the youngest woman in the tribe; and her +husband, Peckanaminet, was the Indian we had met in the bridlepath. I +gave her a pretty piece of ribbon, and an apron for the child; and she +thanked me in her manner, going with us on our return to the path; and +when I had ridden a little onward, I saw her husband running towards us; +so, stopping my horse, I awaited until he came up, when he offered me a +fine large fish, which he had just caught, in acknowledgment, as I +judged, of my gift to his wife. Rebecca and Mistress Broughton laughed, +and bid him take the thing away; but I would not suffer it, and so +Robert Pike took it, and brought it on to our present tarrying place, +where truly it hath made a fair supper for us all. These poor heathen +people seem not so exceeding bad as they have been reported; they be +like unto ourselves, only lacking our knowledge and opportunities, +which, indeed, are not our own to boast of, but gifts of God, calling +for humble thankfulness, and daily prayer and watchfulness, that they be +rightly improved. + + + +Newbery on the Merrimac, May 14, 1678. + +We were hardly on our way yesterday, from Agawam, when a dashing young +gallant rode up very fast behind us. He was fairly clad in rich stuffs, +and rode a nag of good mettle. He saluted us with much ease and +courtliness, offering especial compliments to Rebecca, to whom he seemed +well known, and who I thought was both glad and surprised at his coming. +As I rode near, she said it gave her great joy to bring to each other's +acquaintance, Sir Thomas Hale, a good friend of her father's, and her +cousin Margaret, who, like himself, was a new-comer. He replied, that +he should look with favor on any one who was near to her in friendship +or kindred; and, on learning my father's name, said he had seen him at +his uncle's, Sir Matthew Hale's, many years ago, and could vouch for him +as a worthy man. After some pleasant and merry discoursing with us, he +and my brother fell into converse upon the state of affairs in the +Colony, the late lamentable war with the Narragansett and Pequod +Indians, together with the growth of heresy and schism in the churches, +which latter he did not scruple to charge upon the wicked policy of the +home government in checking the wholesome severity of the laws here +enacted against the schemers and ranters. "I quite agree," said he, +"with Mr. Rawson, that they should have hanged ten where they did one." +Cousin Rebecca here said she was sure her father was now glad the laws +were changed, and that he had often told her that, although the +condemned deserved their punishment, he was not sure that it was the +best way to put down the heresy. If she was ruler, she continued, in +her merry way, she would send all the schemers and ranters, and all the +sour, crabbed, busybodies in the churches, off to Rhode Island, where +all kinds of folly, in spirituals as well as temporals, were permitted, +and one crazy head could not reproach another. + +Falling back a little, and waiting for Robert Pike and Cousin Broughton +to come up, I found them marvelling at the coming of the young +gentleman, who it did seem had no special concernment in these parts, +other than his acquaintance with Rebecca, and his desire of her company. +Robert Pike, as is natural, looks upon him with no great partiality, yet +he doth admit him to be wellbred, and of much and varied knowledge, +acquired by far travel as well as study. I must say, I like not his +confident and bold manner and bearing toward my fair cousin; and he hath +more the likeness of a cast-off dangler at the court, than of a modest +and seemly country gentleman, of a staid and well-ordered house. +Mistress Broughton says he was not at first accredited in Boston, but +that her father, and Mr. Atkinson, and the chief people there now, did +hold him to be not only what he professeth, as respecteth his +gentlemanly lineage, but also learned and ingenious, and well-versed in +the Scriptures, and the works of godly writers, both of ancient and +modern time. I noted that Robert was very silent during the rest of our +journey, and seemed abashed and troubled in the presence of the gay +gentleman; for, although a fair and comely youth, and of good family and +estate, and accounted solid and judicious beyond his years, he does, +nevertheless, much lack the ease and ready wit with which the latter +commendeth himself to my sweet kinswoman. We crossed about noon a broad +stream near to the sea, very deep and miry, so that we wetted our hose +and skirts somewhat; and soon, to our great joy, beheld the pleasant +cleared fields and dwellings of the settlement, stretching along for a +goodly distance; while, beyond all, the great ocean rolled, blue and +cold, under an high easterly wind. Passing through a broad path, with +well-tilled fields on each hand, where men were busy planting corn, and +young maids dropping the seed, we came at length to Uncle Rawson's +plantation, looking wellnigh as fair and broad as the lands of Hilton +Grange, with a good frame house, and large barns thereon. Turning up +the lane, we were met by the housekeeper, a respectable kinswoman, who +received us with great civility. Sir Thomas, although pressed to stay, +excused himself for the time, promising to call on the morrow, and rode +on to the ordinary. I was sadly tired with my journey, and was glad to +be shown to a chamber and a comfortable bed. + +I was awakened this morning by the pleasant voice of my cousin, who +shared my bed. She had arisen and thrown open the window looking +towards the sunrising, and the air came in soft and warm, and laden with +the sweets of flowers and green-growing things. And when I had gotten +myself ready, I sat with her at the window, and I think I may say it was +with a feeling of praise and thanksgiving that mine eyes wandered up and +down over the green meadows, and corn-fields, and orchards of my new +home. Where, thought I, foolish one, be the terrors of the wilderness, +which troubled thy daily thoughts and thy nightly dreams! Where be the +gloomy shades, and desolate mountains, and the wild beasts, with their +dismal howlings and rages! Here all looked peaceful, and bespoke +comfort and contentedness. Even the great woods which climbed up the +hills in the distance looked thin and soft, with their faint young +leaves a yellowish-gray, intermingled with pale, silvery shades, +indicating, as my cousin saith, the different kinds of trees, some of +which, like the willow, do put on their leaves early, and others late, +like the oak, with which the whole region aboundeth. A sweet, quiet +picture it was, with a warm sun, very bright and clear, shining over it, +and the great sea, glistening with the exceeding light, bounding the +view of mine eyes, but bearing my thoughts, like swift ships, to the +land of my birth, and so uniting, as it were, the New World with the +Old. Oh, thought I, the merciful God, who reneweth the earth and maketh +it glad and brave with greenery and flowers of various hues and smells, +and causeth his south winds to blow and his rains to fall, that seed- +time may not fail, doth even here, in the ends of his creation, prank +and beautify the work of his hands, making the desert places to rejoice, +and the wilderness to blossom as the rose. Verily his love is over +all,--the Indian heathen as well as the English Christian. And what +abundant cause for thanks have I, that I have been safely landed on a +shore so fair and pleasant, and enabled to open mine eyes in peace and +love on so sweet a May morning! And I was minded of a verse which I +learned from my dear and honored mother when a child,-- + + "Teach me, my God, thy love to know, + That this new light, which now I see, + May both the work and workman show; + Then by the sunbeams I will climb to thee." + +When we went below, we found on the window seat which looketh to the +roadway, a great bunch of flowers of many kinds, such as I had never +seen in mine own country, very fresh, and glistening with the dew. Now, +when Rebecca took them up, her sister said, "Nay, they are not Sir +Thomas's gift, for young Pike hath just left them." Whereat, as I +thought, she looked vexed, and ill at ease. "They are yours, then, +Cousin Margaret," said she, rallying, "for Robert and you did ride aside +all the way from Agawam, and he scarce spake to me the day long. I see +I have lost mine old lover, and my little cousin hath found a new one. +I shall write Cousin Oliver all about it." + +"Nay," said I, "old lovers are better than new; but I fear my sweet +cousin hath not so considered It." She blushed, and looked aside, and +for some space of time I did miss her smile, and she spake little. + + + +May 20. + +We had scarcely breakfasted, when him they Call Sir Thomas called on us, +and with him came also a Mr. Sewall, and the minister of the church, Mr. +Richardson, both of whom did cordially welcome home my cousins, and were +civil to my brother and myself. Mr. Richardson and Leonard fell to +conversing about the state of the Church; and Sir Thomas discoursed us +in his lively way. After some little tarry, Mr. Sewall asked us to go +with him to Deer's Island, a small way up the river, where he and Robert +Pike had some men splitting staves for the Bermuda market. As the day +was clear and warm, we did readily agree to go, and forthwith set out +for the river, passing through the woods for nearly a half mile. When +we came to the Merrimac, we found it a great and broad stream. We took +a boat, and were rowed up the river, enjoying the pleasing view of the +green banks, and the rocks hanging over the water, covered with bright +mosses, and besprinkled with pale, white flowers. Mr. Sewall pointed +out to us the different kinds of trees, and their nature and uses, and +especially the sugar-tree, which is very beautiful in its leaf and +shape, and from which the people of this country do draw a sap wellnigh +as sweet as the juice of the Indian cane, making good treacle and sugar. +Deer's Island hath rough, rocky shores, very high and steep, and is well +covered with a great growth of trees, mostly evergreen pines and +hemlocks which looked exceeding old. We found a good seat on the mossy +trunk of one of these great trees, which had fallen from its extreme +age, or from some violent blast of wind, from whence we could see the +water breaking into white foam on the rocks, and hear the melodious +sound of the wind in the leaves of the pines, and the singing of birds +ever and anon; and lest this should seem too sad and lonely, we could +also hear the sounds of the axes and beetles of the workmen, cleaving +the timber not far off. It was not long before Robert Pike came up and +joined us. He was in his working dress, and his face and hands were +much discolored by the smut of the burnt logs, which Rebecca playfully +remarking, he said there were no mirrors in the woods, and that must be +his apology; that, besides, it did not become a plain man, like himself, +who had to make his own fortune in the world, to try to imitate those +who had only to open their mouths, to be fed like young robins, without +trouble or toil. Such might go as brave as they would, if they would +only excuse his necessity. I thought he spoke with some bitterness, +which, indeed, was not without the excuse, that the manner of our gay +young gentleman towards him savored much of pride and contemptuousness. +My beloved cousin, who hath a good heart, and who, I must think, apart +from the wealth and family of Sir Thomas, rather inclineth to her old +friend and neighbor, spake cheerily and kindly to him, and besought me +privately to do somewhat to help her remove his vexation. So we did +discourse of many things very pleasantly. Mr. Richardson, on hearing +Rebecca say that the Indians did take the melancholy noises of the +pinetrees in the winds to be the voices of the Spirits of the woods, +said that they always called to his mind the sounds in the mulberry- +trees which the Prophet spake of. Hereupon Rebecca, who hath her memory +well provided with divers readings, both of the poets and other writers, +did cite very opportunely some ingenious lines, touching what the +heathens do relate of the Sacred Tree of Dodona, the rustling of whose +leaves the negro priestesses did hold to be the language of the gods. +And a late writer, she said, had something in one of his pieces, which +might well be spoken of the aged and dead tree-trunk, upon which we were +sitting. And when we did all desire to know their import, she repeated +them thus:-- + + "Sure thou didst flourish once, and many springs, + Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, + Passed o'er thy head; many light hearts and wings, + Which now are dead, lodged in thy living towers." + + "And still a new succession sings and flies, + Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot + Towards the old and still enduring skies, + While the low violet thriveth at their root." + + +These lines, she said, were written by one Vaughn, a Brecknockshire +Welsh Doctor of Medicine, who had printed a little book not many years +ago. Mr. Richardson said the lines were good, but that he did hold the +reading of ballads and the conceits of rhymers a waste of time, to say +nothing worse. Sir Thomas hereat said that, as far as he could judge, +the worthy folk of New England had no great temptation to that sin from +their own poets, and did then, in a drolling tone, repeat some verses of +the 137th Psalm, which he said were the best he had seen in the +Cambridge Psalm Book:-- + + "The rivers of Babylon, + There when we did sit down, + Yea, even then we mourned when + We remembered Sion. + + Our harp we did hang it amid + Upon the willow-tree; + Because there they that us away + Led to captivity! + + Required of us a song, and thus + Asked mirth us waste who laid, + Sing us among a Sion's song + Unto us as then they said." + +"Nay, Sir Thomas," quoth Mr. Richardson, "it is not seemly to jest over +the Word of God. The writers of our Book of Psalms in metre held +rightly, that God's altar needs no polishing; and truly they have +rendered the words of David into English verse with great fidelity." + +Our young gentleman, not willing to displeasure a man so esteemed as Mr. +Richardson, here made an apology for his jesting, and said that, as to +the Cambridge version, it was indeed faithful; and that it was no blame +to uninspired men, that they did fall short of the beauties and richness +of the Lord's Psalmist. It being now near noon, we crossed over the +river, to where was a sweet spring of water, very clear and bright, +running out upon the green bank. Now, as we stood thirsty, having no +cup to drink from, seeing some people near, we called to them, and +presently there came running to us a young and modest woman, with a +bright pewter tankard, which she filled and gave us. I thought her +sweet and beautiful, as Rebecca of old, at her father's fountain. She +was about leaving, when Mr. Richardson said to her, it was a foul shame +for one like her to give heed to the ranting of the Quakers, and bade +her be a good girl, and come to the meeting. + +"Nay," said she, "I have been there often, to small profit. The spirit +which thou persecutest testifieth against thee and thy meeting." + +Sir Thomas jestingly asked her if the spirit she spoke of was not such +an one as possessed Mary Magdalen. + +"Or the swine of the Gadarenes?" asked Mr. Richardson. + +I did smile with the others, but was presently sorry for it; for the +young maid answered not a word to this, but turning to Rebecca, she +said, "Thy father hath been hard with us, but thou seemest kind and +gentle, and I have heard of thy charities to the poor. The Lord keep +thee, for thou walkest in slippery places; there is danger, and thou +seest it not; thou trustest to the hearing of the ear and the seeing of +the eye; the Lord alone seeth the deceitfulness and the guile of man; +and if thou wilt cry mightily to Him, He can direct thee rightly." + +Her voice and manner were very weighty and solemn. I felt an awe come +upon me, and Rebecca's countenance was troubled. As the maiden left us, +the minister, looking after said, "There is a deal of poison under the +fair outside of yonder vessel, which I fear is fitted for destruction." + +"Peggy Brewster is indeed under a delusion," answered Robert Pike, "but +I know no harm of her. She is kind to all, even to them who evil +entreat her." + +"Robert, Robert!" cried the minister, "I fear me you will follow your +honored father, who has made himself of ill repute, by favoring these +people."--"The Quaker hath bewitched him with her bright eyes, perhaps," +quoth Sir Thomas. "I would she had laid a spell on an uncivil tongue I +wot of," answered Robert, angrily. Hereupon, Mr. Sewall proposed that +we should return, and in making ready and getting to the boat, the +matter was dropped. + + + +NEWBURY, June 1, 1678. + +To-day Sir Thomas took his leave of us, being about to go back to +Boston. Cousin Rebecca is, I can see, much taken with his outside +bravery and courtliness, yet she hath confessed to me that her sober +judgment doth greatly incline her towards her old friend and neighbor, +Robert Pike. She hath even said that she doubted not she could live a +quieter and happier life with him than with such an one as Sir Thomas; +and that the words of the Quaker maid, whom we met at the spring on the +river side, had disquieted her not a little, inasmuch as they did seem +to confirm her own fears and misgivings. But her fancy is so bedazzled +with the goodly show of her suitor, that I much fear he can have her for +the asking, especially as her father, to my knowledge, doth greatly +favor him. And, indeed, by reason of her gracious manner, witty and +pleasant discoursing, excellent breeding, and dignity, she would do no +discredit to the choice of one far higher than this young gentleman in +estate and rank. + + + +June 10. + +I went this morning with Rebecca to visit Elnathan Stone, a young +neighbor, who has been lying sorely ill for a long time. He was a +playmate of my cousin when a boy, and was thought to be of great promise +as he grew up to manhood; but, engaging in the war with the heathen, he +was wounded and taken captive by them, and after much suffering was +brought back to his home a few months ago. On entering the house where +he lay, we found his mother, a careworn and sad woman, spinning in the +room by his bedside. A very great and bitter sorrow was depicted on her +features; it was the anxious, unreconciled, and restless look of one who +did feel herself tried beyond her patience, and might not be comforted. +For, as I learned, she was a poor widow, who had seen her young daughter +tomahawked by the Indians; and now her only son, the hope of her old +age, was on his death-bed. She received us with small civility, telling +Rebecca that it was all along of the neglect of the men in authority +that her son had got his death in the wars, inasmuch as it was the want +of suitable diet and clothing, rather than his wounds, which had brought +him into his present condition. Now, as Uncle Rawson is one of the +principal magistrates, my sweet cousin knew that the poor afflicted +creature meant to reproach him; but her good heart did excuse and +forgive the rudeness and distemper of one whom the Lord had sorely +chastened. So she spake kindly and lovingly, and gave her sundry nice +dainty fruits and comforting cordials, which she had got from Boston for +the sick man. Then, as she came to his bedside, and took his hand +lovingly in her own, he thanked her for her many kindnesses, and prayed +God to bless her. He must have been a handsome lad in health, for he +had a fair, smooth forehead, shaded with brown, curling hair, and large, +blue eyes, very sweet and gentle in their look. He told us that he felt +himself growing weaker, and that at times his bodily suffering was +great. But through the mercy of his Saviour he had much peace of mind. +He was content to leave all things in His hand. For his poor mother's +sake, he said, more than for his own, he would like to get about once +more; there were many things he would like to do for her, and for all +who had befriended him; but he knew his Heavenly Father could do more +and better for them, and he felt resigned to His will. He had, he said, +forgiven all who ever wronged him, and he had now no feeling of anger or +unkindness left towards any one, for all seemed kind to him beyond his +deserts, and like brothers and sisters. He had much pity for the poor +savages even, although he had suffered sorely at their hands; for he did +believe that they had been often ill-used, and cheated, and otherwise +provoked to take up arms against us. Hereupon, Goodwife Stone twirled +her spindle very spitefully, and said she would as soon pity the Devil +as his children. The thought of her mangled little girl, and of her +dying son, did seem to overcome her, and she dropped her thread, and +cried out with an exceeding bitter cry,--"Oh, the bloody heathen! Oh, +my poor murdered Molly! Oh, my son, my son!"--"Nay, mother," said the +sick man, reaching out his hand and taking hold of his mother's, with a +sweet smile on his pale face,--"what does Christ tell us about loving +our enemies, and doing good to them that do injure us? Let us forgive +our fellow-creatures, for we have all need of God's forgiveness. I used +to feel as mother does," he said, turning to us; "for I went into the +war with a design to spare neither young nor old of the enemy. + +"But I thank God that even in that dark season my heart relented at the +sight of the poor starving women and children, chased from place to +place like partridges. Even the Indian fighters, I found, had sorrows +of their own, and grievous wrongs to avenge; and I do believe, if we had +from the first treated them as poor blinded brethren, and striven as +hard to give them light and knowledge, as we have to cheat them in +trade, and to get away their lands, we should have escaped many bloody +wars, and won many precious souls to Christ." + +I inquired of him concerning his captivity. He was wounded, he told me, +in a fight with the Sokokis Indians two years before. It was a hot +skirmish in the woods; the English and the Indians now running forward, +and then falling back, firing at each other from behind the trees. He +had shot off all his powder, and, being ready to faint by reason of a +wound in his knee, he was fain to sit down against an oak, from whence +he did behold, with great sorrow and heaviness of heart, his companions +overpowered by the number of their enemies, fleeing away and leaving him +to his fate. The savages soon came to him with dreadful whoopings, +brandishing their hatchets and their scalping-knives. He thereupon +closed his eyes, expecting to be knocked in the head, and killed +outright. But just then a noted chief coming up in great haste, bade +him be of good cheer, for he was his prisoner, and should not be slain. +He proved to be the famous Sagamore Squando, the chief man of the +Sokokis. + +"And were you kindly treated by this chief?" asked Rebecca. + +"I suffered much in moving with him to the Sebago Lake, owing to my +wound," he replied; "but the chief did all in his power to give me +comfort, and he often shared with me his scant fare, choosing rather to +endure hunger himself, than to see his son, as he called me, in want of +food. And one night, when I did marvel at this kindness on his part, he +told me that I had once done him a great service; asking me if I was not +at Black Point, in a fishing vessel, the summer before? I told him I +was. He then bade me remember the bad sailors who upset the canoe of a +squaw, and wellnigh drowned her little child, and that I had threatened +and beat them for it; and also how I gave the squaw a warm coat to wrap +up the poor wet papoose. It was his squaw and child that I had +befriended; and he told me that he had often tried to speak to me, and +make known his gratitude therefor; and that he came once to the garrison +at Sheepscot, where he saw me; but being fired at, notwithstanding his +signs of peace and friendship, he was obliged to flee into the woods. +He said the child died a few days after its evil treatment, and the +thought of it made his heart bitter; that he had tried to live peaceably +with the white men, but they had driven him into the war. + +"On one occasion," said the sick soldier, "as we lay side by side in his +hut, on the shore of the Sebago Lake, Squando, about midnight, began to +pray to his God very earnestly. And on my querying with him about it, +he said he was greatly in doubt what to do, and had prayed for some sign +of the Great Spirit's will concerning him. He then told me that some +years ago, near the place where we then lay, he left his wigwam at +night, being unable to sleep, by reason of great heaviness and distemper +of mind. It was a full moon, and as he did walk to and fro, he saw a +fair, tall man in a long black dress, standing in the light on the +lake's shore, who spake to him and called him by name. + +"'Squando,' he said, and his voice was deep and solemn, like the wind in +the hill pines, 'the God of the white man is the God of the Indian, and +He is angry with his red children. He alone is able to make the corn +grow before the frost, and to lead the fish up the rivers in the spring, +and to fill the woods with deer and other game, and the ponds and +meadows with beavers. Pray to Him always. Do not hunt on His day, nor +let the squaws hoe the corn. Never taste of the strong fire-water, but +drink only from the springs. It, is because the Indians do not worship +Him, that He has brought the white men among them; but if they will pray +like the white men, they will grow very great and strong, and their +children born in this moon will live to see the English sail back in +their great canoes, and leave the Indians all their fishing-places and +hunting-grounds.' + +"When the strange man had thus spoken, Squando told me that he went +straightway up to him, but found where he had stood only the shadow of +a broken tree, which lay in the moon across the white sand of the shore. +Then he knew it was a spirit, and he trembled, but was glad. Ever +since, he told nee, he had prayed daily to the Great Spirit, had drank +no rum, nor hunted on the Sabbath. + +"He said he did for a long time refuse to dig up his hatchet, and make +war upon the whites, but that he could not sit idle in his wigwam, while +his young men were gone upon their war-path. The spirit of his dead +child did moreover speak to him from the land of souls, and chide him +for not seeking revenge. Once, he told me, he had in a dream seen the +child crying and moaning bitterly, and that when he inquired the cause +of its grief, he was told that the Great Spirit was angry with its +father, and would destroy him and his people unless he did join with the +Eastern Indians to cut off the English." + +"I remember," said Rebecca, "of hearing my father speak of this +Squando's kindness to a young maid taken captive some years ago at +Presumpscot." + +"I saw her at Cocheco," said the sick man. "Squando found her in a sad +plight, and scarcely alive, took her to his wigwam, where his squaw did +lovingly nurse and comfort her; and when she was able to travel, he +brought her to Major Waldron's, asking no ransom for her. He might have +been made the fast friend of the English at that time, but he scarcely +got civil treatment." + +"My father says that many friendly Indians, by the ill conduct of the +traders, have been made our worst enemies," said Rebecca. "He thought +the bringing in of the Mohawks to help us a sin comparable to that of +the Jews, who looked for deliverance from the King of Babylon at the +hands of the Egyptians." + +"They did nothing but mischief," said Elnathan Stone; "they killed our +friends at Newichawannock, Blind Will and his family." + +Rebecca here asked him if he ever heard the verses writ by Mr. Sewall +concerning the killing of Blind Will. And when he told her he had not, +and would like to have her repeat them, if she could remember, she did +recite them thus:-- + + "Blind Will of Newiehawannock! + He never will whoop again, + For his wigwam's burnt above him, + And his old, gray scalp is ta'en! + + "Blind Will was the friend of white men, + On their errands his young men ran, + And he got him a coat and breeches, + And looked like a Christian man. + + "Poor Will of Newiehawannock! + They slew him unawares, + Where he lived among his people, + Keeping Sabhath and saying prayers. + + "Now his fields will know no harvest, + And his pipe is clean put out, + And his fine, brave coat and breeches + The Mohog wears about. + + "Woe the day our rulers listened + To Sir Edmund's wicked plan, + Bringing down the cruel Mohogs + Who killed the poor old man. + + "Oh! the Lord He will requite us; + For the evil we have done, + There'll be many a fair scalp drying + In the wind and in the sun! + + "There'll be many a captive sighing, + In a bondage long and dire; + There'll be blood in many a corn-field, + And many a house a-fire. + + "And the Papist priests the tidings + Unto all the tribes will send; + They'll point to Newiehawannock,-- + 'So the English treat their friend!' + + "Let the Lord's anointed servants + Cry aloud against this wrong, + Till Sir Edmund take his Mohogs + Back again where they belong. + + "Let the maiden and the mother + In the nightly watching share, + While the young men guard the block-house, + And the old men kneel in prayer. + + "Poor Will of Newiehawannock! + For thy sad and cruel fall, + And the bringing in of the Mohogs, + May the Lord forgive us all!" + +A young woman entered the house just as Rebecca finished the verses. +She bore in her hands a pail of milk and a fowl neatly dressed, which +she gave to Elnathan's mother, and, seeing strangers by his bedside, was +about to go out, when he called to her and besought her to stay. As she +came up and spoke to him, I knew her to be the maid we had met at the +spring. The young man, with tears in his eyes, acknowledged her great +kindness to him, at which she seemed troubled and abashed. A pure, +sweet complexion she hath, and a gentle and loving look, full of +innocence and sincerity. Rebecca seemed greatly disturbed, for she no +doubt thought of the warning words of this maiden, when we were at the +spring. After she had left, Goodwife Stone said she was sure she could +not tell what brought that Quaker girl to her house so much, unless she +meant to inveigle Elnathan; but, for her part, she would rather see him +dead than live to bring reproach upon his family and the Church by +following after the blasphemers. I ventured to tell her that I did look +upon it as sheer kindness and love on the young woman's part; at which +Elnathan seemed pleased, and said he could not doubt it, and that he did +believe Peggy Brewster to be a good Christian, although sadly led astray +by the Quakers. His mother said that, with all her meek looks, and kind +words, she was full of all manner of pestilent heresies, and did remind +her always of Satan in the shape of an angel of light. + +We went away ourselves soon after this, the sick man thanking us for our +visit, and hoping that he should see us again. "Poor Elnathan," said +Rebecca, as we walked home, "he will never go abroad again; but he is in +such a good and loving frame of mind, that he needs not our pity, as one +who is without hope." + +"He reminds me," I said, "of the comforting promise of Scripture, 'Thou +wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee.'" + + + +June 30, 1678. + +Mr. Rawson and Sir Thomas Hale came yesterday from Boston. I was +rejoiced to see mine uncle, more especially as he brought for me a +package of letters, and presents and tokens of remembrance from my +friends on the other side of the water. As soon as I got them, I went +up to my chamber, and, as I read of the health of those who are very +dear to me, and who did still regard me with unchanged love, I wept in +my great joy, and my heart overflowed in thankfulness. I read the 22d +Psalm, and it did seem to express mine own feelings in view of the great +mercies and blessings vouchsafed to me. "My head is anointed with oil; +my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the +days of my life." + +This morning, Sir Thomas and Uncle Rawson rode over to Hampton, where +they will tarry all night. Last evening, Rebecca had a long talk with +her father concerning Sir Thomas, who hath asked her of him. She came +to bed very late, and lay restless and sobbing; whereupon I pressed her +to know the cause of her grief, when she told me she had consented to +marry Sir Thomas, but that her heart was sorely troubled and full of +misgivings. On my querying whether she did really love the young +gentleman, she said she sometimes feared she did not; and that when her +fancy had made a fair picture of the life of a great lady in England, +there did often come a dark cloud over it like the shade of some heavy +disappointment or sorrow. "Sir Thomas," she said, "was a handsome and +witty young man, and had demeaned himself to the satisfaction and good +repute of her father and the principal people of the Colony; and his +manner towards her had been exceeding delicate and modest, inasmuch as +he had presumed nothing upon his family or estate, but had sought her +with much entreaty and humility, although he did well know that some of +the most admired and wealthy Young women in Boston did esteem him not a +little, even to the annoying of herself, as one whom he especially +favored." + +"This will be heavy news to Robert Pike," said I; "and I am sorry for +him, for he is indeed a worthy man." + +"That he is," quoth she; "but he hath never spoken to me of aught beyond +that friendliness which, as neighbors and school companions, we do +innocently cherish for each other." + +"Nay," said I, "my sweet cousin knows full well that he entertaineth so +strong an affection for her, that there needeth no words to reveal it." + +"Alas!" she answered, "it is too true. When I am with him, I sometimes +wish I had never seen Sir Thomas. But my choice is made, and I pray God +I may not have reason to repent of it." + +We said no more, but I fear she slept little, for on waking about the +break of day, I saw her sitting in her night-dress by the window. +Whereupon I entreated her to return to her bed, which she at length did, +and folding me in her arms, and sobbing as if her heart would break, she +besought me to pity her, for it was no light thing which she had done, +and she scarcely knew her own mind, nor whether to rejoice or weep over +it. I strove to comfort her, and, after a time, she did, to my great +joy, fall into a quiet sleep. + +This afternoon, Robert Pike came in, and had a long talk with Cousin +Broughton, who told him how matters stood between her sister and Sir +Thomas, at which he was vehemently troubled, and would fain have gone to +seek Rebecca at once, and expostulate with her, but was hindered on +being told that it could only grieve and discomfort her, inasmuch as the +thing was well settled, and could not be broken off. He said he had +known and loved her from a child; that for her sake he had toiled hard +by day and studied by night; and that in all his travels and voyages, +her sweet image had always gone with him. He would bring no accusation +against her, for she had all along treated him rather as a brother than +as a suitor: to which last condition he had indeed not felt himself at +liberty to venture, after her honored father, some months ago, had given +him to understand that he did design an alliance of his daughter with a +gentleman of estate and family. For himself, he would bear himself +manfully, and endure his sorrow with patience and fortitude. His only +fear was, that his beloved friend had been too hasty in deciding the +matter; and that he who was her choice might not be worthy of the great +gift of her affection. Cousin Broughton, who has hitherto greatly +favored the pretensions of Sir Thomas, told me that she wellnigh changed +her mind in view of the manly and noble bearing of Robert Pike; and that +if her sister were to live in this land, she would rather see her the +wife of him than of any other man therein. + + + +July 3. + +Sir Thomas took his leave to-day. Robert Pike hath been here to wish +Rebecca great joy and happiness in her prospect, which he did in so kind +and gentle a manner, that she was fain to turn away her head to hide her +tears. When Robert saw this, he turned the discourse, and did endeavor +to divert her mind in such sort that the shade of melancholy soon left +her sweet face, and the twain talked together cheerfully as had been +their wont, and as became their years and conditions. + + + +July 6. + +Yesterday a strange thing happened in the meeting-house. The minister +had gone on in his discourse, until the sand in the hour-glass on the +rails before the deacons had wellnigh run out, and Deacon Dole was about +turning it, when suddenly I saw the congregation all about me give a +great start, and look back. A young woman, barefooted, and with a +coarse canvas frock about her, and her long hair hanging loose like a +periwig, and sprinkled with ashes, came walking up the south aisle. +Just as she got near Uncle Rawson's seat she stopped, and turning round +towards the four corners of the house, cried out: "Woe to the +persecutors! Woe to them who for a pretence make long prayers! Humble +yourselves, for this is the day of the Lord's power, and I am sent as a +sign among you!" As she looked towards me I knew her to be the Quaker +maiden, Margaret Brewster. "Where is the constable?" asked Mr. +Richardson. "Let the woman be taken out." Thereupon the whole +congregation arose, and there was a great uproar, men and women climbing +the seats, and many crying out, some one thing and some another. In the +midst of the noise, Mr. Sewall, getting up on a bench, begged the people +to be quiet, and let the constable lead out the poor deluded creature. +Mr. Richardson spake to the same effect, and, the tumult a little +subsiding, I saw them taking the young woman out of the door; and, as +many followed her, I went out also, with my brother, to see what became +of her. + +We found her in the middle of a great crowd of angry people, who +reproached her for her wickedness in disturbing the worship on the +Lord's day, calling her all manner of foul names, and threatening her +with the stocks and the whipping-post. The poor creature stood still +and quiet; she was deathly pale, and her wild hair and sackcloth frock +gave her a very strange and pitiable look. The constable was about to +take her in charge until the morrow, when Robert Pike came forward, and +said he would answer for her appearance at the court the next day, and +besought the people to let her go quietly to her home, which, after some +parley, was agreed to. Robert then went up to her, and taking her hand, +asked her to go with him. She looked up, and being greatly touched by +his kindness, began to weep, telling him that it had been a sorrowful +cross to her to do as she had done; but that it had been long upon her +mind, and that she did feel a relief now that she had found strength for +obedience. He, seeing the people still following, hastened her, away, +and we all went back to the meeting-house. In the afternoon, Mr. +Richardson gave notice that he should preach, next Lord's day, from the +12th and 13th verses of Jude, wherein the ranters and disturbers of the +present day were very plainly spoken of. This morning she hath been had +before the magistrates, who, considering her youth and good behavior +hitherto, did not proceed against her so far as many of the people +desired. A fine was laid upon her, which both she and her father did +profess they could not in conscience pay, whereupon she was ordered to +be set in the stocks; but this Mr. Sewall, Robert Pike, and my brother +would by no means allow, but paid the fine themselves, so that she was +set at liberty, whereat the boys and rude women were not a little +disappointed, as they had thought to make sport of her in the stocks. +Mr. Pike, I hear, did speak openly in her behalf before the magistrates, +saying that it was all along of the cruel persecution of these people +that did drive them to such follies and breaches of the peace, Mr. +Richardson, who hath heretofore been exceeding hard upon the Quakers, +did, moreover, speak somewhat in excuse of her conduct, believing that +she was instigated by her elders; and he therefore counselled the court +that she should not be whipped, + + + +August 1. + +Captain Sewall, R. Pike, and the minister, Mr. Richardson, at our house +to-day. Captain Sewall, who lives mostly at Boston, says that a small +vessel loaded with negroes, taken on the Madagascar coast, came last +week into the harbor, and that the owner thereof had offered the negroes +for sale as slaves, and that they had all been sold to magistrates, +ministers, and other people of distinction in Boston and thereabouts. +He said the negroes were principally women and children, and scarcely +alive, by reason of their long voyage and hard fare. He thought it a +great scandal to the Colony, and a reproach to the Church, that they +should be openly trafficked, like cattle in the market. Uncle Rawson +said it was not so formerly; for he did remember the case of Captain +Smith and one Kesar, who brought negroes from Guinea thirty years ago. +The General Court, urged thereto by Sir Richard Saltonstall and many of +the ministers, passed an order that, for the purpose of "bearing a +witness against the heinous sin of man-stealing, justly abhorred of all +good and just men," the negroes should be taken back to their own +country at the charge of the Colony; which was soon after done. +Moreover, the two men, Smith and Kesar, were duly punished. + +Mr. Richardson said he did make a distinction between the stealing of +men from a nation at peace with us, and the taking of captives in war. +The Scriptures did plainly warrant the holding of such, and especially +if they be heathen. + +Captain Sewall said he did, for himself, look upon all slave-holding as +contrary to the Gospel and the New Dispensation. The Israelites had a +special warrant for holding the heathen in servitude; but he had never +heard any one pretend that he had that authority for enslaving Indians +and blackamoors. + +Hereupon Mr. Richardson asked him if he did not regard Deacon Dole as a +godly man; and if he had aught to say against him and other pious men +who held slaves. And he cautioned him to be careful, lest he should be +counted an accuser of the brethren. + +Here Robert Pike said he would tell of a matter which had fallen under +his notice. "Just after the war was over," said be, "owing to the loss +of my shallop in the Penobscot Bay, I chanced to be in the neighborhood +of him they call the Baron of Castine, who hath a strong castle, with +much cleared land and great fisheries at Byguyduce. I was preparing to +make a fire and sleep in the woods, with my two men, when a messenger +came from the Baron, saying that his master, hearing that strangers were +in the neighborhood, had sent him to offer us food and shelter, as the +night was cold and rainy. So without ado we went with him, and were +shown into a comfortable room in a wing of the castle, where we found a +great fire blazing, and a joint of venison with wheaten loaves on the +table. After we had refreshed ourselves, the Baron sent for me, and I +was led into a large, fair room, where he was, with Modockawando, who +was his father-in-law, and three or four other chiefs of the Indians, +together with two of his priests. The Baron, who was a man of goodly +appearance, received me with much courtesy; and when I told him my +misfortune, he said he was glad it was in his power to afford us a +shelter. He discoursed about the war, which he said had been a sad +thing to the whites as well as the Indians, but that he now hoped the +peace would be lasting. Whereupon, Modockawando, a very grave and +serious heathen, who had been sitting silent with his friends, got up +and spoke a load speech to me, which I did not understand, but was told +that he did complain of the whites for holding as slaves sundry Indian +captives, declaring that it did provoke another war. His own sister's +child, he said, was thus held in captivity. He entreated me to see the +great Chief of our people (meaning the Governor), and tell him that the +cries of the captives were heard by his young men, and that they were +talking of digging up the hatchet which the old men had buried at Casco. +I told the old savage that I did not justify the holding of Indians +after the peace, and would do what I could to have them set at liberty, +at which he seemed greatly rejoiced. Since I came back from Castine's +country, I have urged the giving up of the Indians, and many have been +released. Slavery is a hard lot, and many do account it worse than +death. When in the Barbadoes, I was told that on one plantation, in the +space of five years, a score of slaves had hanged themselves." + +"Mr. Atkinson's Indian," said Captain Sewall, "whom he bought of a +Virginia ship-owner, did, straightway on coming to his house, refuse +meat; and although persuasions and whippings were tried to make him eat, +he would not so much as take a sip of drink. I saw him a day or two +before he died, sitting wrapped up in his blanket, and muttering to +himself. It was a sad, sight, and I pray God I may never see the like +again. From that time I have looked upon the holding of men as slaves +as a great wickedness. The Scriptures themselves do testify, that he +that leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity." + +After the company had gone, Rebecca sat silent and thoughtful for a +time, and then bade her young serving-girl, whom her father had bought, +about a year before, of the master of a Scotch vessel, and who had been +sold to pay the cost of her passage, to come to her. She asked her if +she had aught to complain of in her situation. The poor girl looked +surprised, but said she had not. "Are you content to live as a +servant?" asked Rebecca. "Would you leave me if you could?" She here +fell a-weeping, begging her mistress not to speak of her leaving. "But +if I should tell you that you are free to go or stay, as you will, would +you be glad or sorry?" queried her mistress. The poor girl was silent. +"I do not wish you to leave me, Effie," said Rebecca, "but I wish you to +know that you are from henceforth free, and that if you serve me +hereafter, as I trust you will, it will be in love and good will, and +for suitable wages." The bondswoman did not at the first comprehend the +design of her mistress, but, on hearing it explained once more, she +dropped down on her knees, and clasping Rebecca, poured forth her thanks +after the manner of her people; whereupon Rebecca, greatly moved, bade +her rise, as she had only done what the Scriptures did require, in +giving to her servant that which is just and equal. + +"How easy it is to make others happy, and ourselves also!" she said, +turning to me, with the tears shining in her eyes. + + + +August 8, 1678. + +Elnathan Stone, who died two days ago, was buried this afternoon. A +very solemn funeral, Mr. Richardson preaching a sermon from the 23d +psalm, 4th verse: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow +of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy +staff, they comfort me." Deacon Dole provided the wine and spirits, and +Uncle Rawson the beer, and bread, and fish for the entertainment, and +others of the neighbors did, moreover, help the widow to sundry matters +of clothing suitable for the occasion, for she was very poor, and, owing +to the long captivity and sickness of her son, she hath been much +straitened at times. I am told that Margaret Brewster hath been like an +angel of mercy unto her, watching often with the sick man, and helping +her in her work, so that the poor woman is now fain to confess that she +hath a good and kind heart. A little time before Elnathan died, he did +earnestly commend the said Margaret to the kindness of Cousin Rebecca, +entreating her to make interest with the magistrates, and others in +authority, in her behalf, that they might be merciful to her in her +outgoings, as he did verily think they did come of a sense of duty, +albeit mistaken. Mr. Richardson, who hath been witness to her gracious +demeanor and charity, and who saith she does thereby shame many of his +own people, hath often sought to draw her away from the new doctrines, +and to set before her the dangerous nature of her errors; but she never +lacketh answer of some sort, being naturally of good parts, and well +read in the Scriptures. + + + +August 10. + +I find the summer here greatly unlike that of mine own country. The +heat is great, the sun shining very strong and bright; and for more than +a month it hath been exceeding dry, without any considerable fall of +rain, so that the springs fail in many places, and the watercourses are +dried up, which doth bring to mind very forcibly the language of Job, +concerning the brooks which the drouth consumeth: "What time they wax +warm they vanish; when it is hot they are consumed out of their place. +The paths of their way are turned aside; they go to nothing and perish." +The herbage and grass have lost much of the brightness which they did +wear in the early summer; moreover, there be fewer flowers to be seen. +The fields and roads are dusty, and all things do seem to faint and wax +old under the intolerable sun. Great locusts sing sharp in the hedges +and bushes, and grasshoppers fly up in clouds, as it were, when one +walks over the dry grass which they feed upon, and at nightfall +mosquitoes are no small torment. Whenever I do look forth at noonday, +at which time the air is all aglow, with a certain glimmer and dazzle +like that from an hot furnace, and see the poor fly-bitten cattle +whisking their tails to keep off the venomous insects, or standing in +the water of the low grounds for coolness, and the panting sheep lying +together under the shade of trees, I must needs call to mind the summer +season of old England, the cool sea air, the soft-dropping showers, the +fields so thick with grasses, and skirted with hedge-rows like green +walls, the trees and shrubs all clean and moist, and the vines and +creepers hanging over walls and gateways, very plenteous and beautiful +to behold. Ah me I often in these days do I think of Hilton Grange, +with its great oaks, and cool breezy hills and meadows green the summer +long. I shut mine eyes, and lo! it is all before me like a picture; I +see mine uncle's gray hairs beneath the trees, and my good aunt standeth +in the doorway, and Cousin Oliver comes up in his field-dress, from the +croft or the mill; I can hear his merry laugh, and the sound of his +horse's hoofs ringing along the gravel-way. Our sweet Chaucer telleth +of a mirror in the which he that looked did see all his past life; that +magical mirror is no fable, for in the memory of love, old things do +return and show themselves as features do in the glass, with a perfect +and most beguiling likeness. + +Last night, Deacon Dole's Indian--One-eyed Tom, a surly fellow--broke +into his master's shop, where he made himself drunk with rum, and, +coming to the house, did greatly fright the womenfolk by his threatening +words and gestures. Now, the Deacon coming home late from the church- +meeting, and seeing him in this way, wherreted him smartly with his +cane, whereupon he ran off, and came up the road howling and yelling +like an evil spirit. Uncle Rawson sent his Irish man-servant to see +what caused the ado; but he straightway came running back, screaming +"Murther! murther!" at the top of his voice. So uncle himself went to +the gate, and presently called for a light, which Rebecca and I came +with, inasmuch as the Irishman and Effie dared not go out. We found Tom +sitting on the horse-block, the blood running down his face, and much +bruised and swollen. He was very fierce and angry, saying that if he +lived a month, he would make him a tobacco-pouch of the Deacon's scalp. +Rebecca ventured to chide him for his threats, but offered to bind up +his head for him, which she did with her own kerchief. Uncle Rawson +then bade him go home and get to bed, and in future let alone strong +drink, which had been the cause of his beating. This he would not do, +but went off into the woods, muttering as far as one could hear him. + +This morning Deacon Dole came in, and said his servant Tom had behaved +badly, for which he did moderately correct him, and that he did +thereupon run away, and he feared he should lose him. He bought him, +he said, of Captain Davenport, who brought him from the Narragansett +country, paying ten pounds and six shillings for him, and he could ill +bear so great a loss. I ventured to tell him that it was wrong to hold +any man, even an Indian or Guinea black, as a slave. My uncle, who saw +that my plainness was not well taken, bade me not meddle with matters +beyond my depth; and Deacon Dole, looking very surly at me, said I was a +forward one; that he had noted that I did wear a light and idle look in +the meeting-house; and, pointing with his cane to my hair, he said I did +render myself liable to presentment by the Grand Jury for a breach of +the statute of the General Court, made the year before, against "the +immodest laying out of the hair," &c. He then went on to say that he +had lived to see strange times, when such as I did venture to oppose +themselves to sober and grave people, and to despise authority, and +encourage rebellion and disorder; and bade me take heed lest all such +be numbered with the cursed children which the Apostle did rebuke: "Who, +as natural brute beasts, speak evil of things they understand not, and +shall utterly perish in their corruption." My dear Cousin Rebecca here +put in a word in my behalf, and told the Deacon that Tom's misbehavior +did all grow out of the keeping of strong liquors for sale, and that he +was wrong to beat him so cruelly, seeing that he did himself place the +temptation before him. Thereupon the Deacon rose up angrily, bidding +uncle look well to his forward household. "Nay, girls," quoth mine +uncle, after his neighbor had left the house, "you have angered the good +man sorely."--"Never heed," said Rebecca, laughing and clapping her +hands, "he hath got something to think of more profitable, I trow, than +Cousin Margaret's hair or looks in meeting. He has been tything of mint +and anise and cummin long enough, and 't is high time for him to look +after the weightier matters of the law." + +The selling of beer and strong liquors, Mr. Ewall says, hath much +increased since the troubles of the Colony and the great Indian war. +The General Court do take some care to grant licenses only to discreet +persons; but much liquor is sold without warrant. For mine own part, I +think old Chaucer hath it right in his Pardoner's Tale:-- + + "A likerous thing is wine, and drunkenness + Is full of striving and of wretchedness. + O drunken man! disfigured is thy face, + Sour is thy breath, foul art then to embrace; + Thy tongue is lost, and all thine honest care, + For drunkenness is very sepulture + Of man's wit and his discretion." + + + +AGAMENTICUS, August 18. + +The weather being clear and the heat great, last week uncle and aunt, +with Rebecca and myself, and also Leonard and Sir Thomas, thought it a +fitting time to make a little journey by water to the Isles of Shoals, +and the Agamenticus, where dwelleth my Uncle Smith, who hath strongly +pressed me to visit him. One Caleb Powell, a seafaring man, having a +good new boat, with a small cabin, did undertake to convey us. He is a +drolling odd fellow, who hath been in all parts of the world, and hath +seen and read much, and, having a rare memory, is not ill company, +although uncle saith one must make no small allowance for his desire of +making his hearers marvel at his stories and conceits. We sailed with a +good westerly wind down the river, passing by the great salt marshes, +which stretch a long way by the sea, and in which the town's people be +now very busy in mowing and gathering the grass for winter's use. +Leaving on our right hand Plum Island (so called on account of the rare +plums which do grow upon it), we struck into the open sea, and soon came +in sight of the Islands of Shoals. There be seven of them in all, lying +off the town of Hampton on the mainland, about a league. We landed on +that called the Star, and were hospitably entertained through the day +and night by Mr. Abbott, an old inhabitant of the islands, and largely +employed in fisheries and trade, and with whom uncle had some business. +In the afternoon Mr. Abbott's son rowed us about among the islands, and +showed us the manner of curing the dun-fish, for which the place is +famed. They split the fishes, and lay them on the rocks in the sun, +using little salt, but turning them often. There is a court-house on +the biggest island, and a famous school, to which many of the planters +on the main-land do send their children. We noted a great split in the +rocks, where, when the Indians came to the islands many years ago, and +killed some and took others captive, one Betty Moody did hide herself, +and which is hence called Betty Moody's Hole. Also, the pile of rocks +set up by the noted Captain John Smith, when he did take possession of +the Isles in the year 1614. We saw our old acquaintance Peckanaminet +and his wife, in a little birch canoe, fishing a short way off. Mr. +Abbott says he well recollects the time when the Agawams were wellnigh +cut off by the Tarratine Indians; for that early one morning, hearing a +loud yelling and whooping, he went out on the point of the rocks, and +saw a great fleet of canoes filled with Indians, going back from Agawam, +and the noise they made he took to be their rejoicing over their +victory. + +In the evening a cold easterly wind began to blow, and it brought in +from the ocean a damp fog, so that we were glad to get within doors. +Sir Thomas entertained us by his lively account of things in Boston, and +of a journey he had made to the Providence plantations. He then asked +us if it was true, as he had learned from Mr. Mather, of Boston, that +there was an house in Newbury dolefully beset by Satan's imps, and that +the family could get no sleep because of the doings of evil spirits. +Uncle Rawson said he did hear something of it, and that Mr. Richardson +had been sent for to pray against the mischief. Yet as he did count +Goody Morse a poor silly woman, he should give small heed to her story; +but here was her near neighbor, Caleb Powell, who could doubtless tell +more concerning it. Whereupon, Caleb said it was indeed true that there +was a very great disturbance in Goodman Morse's house; doors opening and +shutting, household stuff whisked out of the room, and then falling down +the chimney, and divers other strange things, many of which he had +himself seen. Yet he did believe it might be accounted for in a natural +way, especially as the old couple had a wicked, graceless boy living +with them, who might be able to do the tricks by his great subtlety and +cunning. Sir Thomas said it might be the boy; but that Mr. Josselin, +who had travelled much hereabout, had told him that the Indians did +practise witchcraft, and that, now they were beaten in war, he feared +they would betake themselves to it, and so do by their devilish wisdom +what they could not do by force; and verily this did look much like the +beginning of their enchantments. "That the Devil helpeth the heathen in +this matter, I do myself know for a certainty," said Caleb Powell; "for +when I was at Port Royal, many years ago, I did see with mine eyes the +burning of an old negro wizard, who had done to death many of the +whites, as well as his own people, by a charm which he brought with him +from the Guinea, country." Mr. Hull, the minister of the place, who was +a lodger in the house, said he had heard one Foxwell, a reputable +planter at Saco, lately deceased, tell of a strange affair that did +happen to himself, in a voyage to the eastward. Being in a small +shallop, and overtaken by the night, he lay at anchor a little way off +the shore, fearing to land on account of the Indians. Now, it did +chance that they were waked about midnight by a loud voice from the +land, crying out, Foxwell, come ashore! three times over; whereupon, +looking to see from whence the voice did come, they beheld a great +circle of fire on the beach, and men and women dancing about it in a +ring. Presently they vanished, and the fire was quenched also. In the +morning he landed, but found no Indians nor English, only brands' ends +cast up by the waves; and he did believe, unto the day of his death, +that it was a piece of Indian sorcery. "There be strange stories told +of Passaconaway, the chief of the River Indians," he continued. "I have +heard one say who saw it, that once, at the Patucket Falls, this chief, +boasting of his skill in magic, picked up a dry skin of a snake, which +had been cast off, as is the wont of the reptile, and making some +violent motions of his body, and calling upon his Familiar, or Demon, he +did presently cast it down upon the rocks, and it became a great black +serpent, which mine informant saw crawl off into some bushes, very +nimble. This Passaconaway was accounted by his tribe to be a very +cunning conjurer, and they do believe that he could brew storms, make +water burn, and cause green leaves to grow on trees in the winter; and, +in brief, it may be said of him, that he was not a whit behind the +magicians of Egypt in the time of Moses." + +"There be women in the cold regions about Norway," said Caleb Powell, +"as I have heard the sailors relate, who do raise storms and sink boats +at their will." + +"It may well be," quoth Mr. Hull, "since Satan is spoken of as the +prince and power of the air." + +"The profane writers of old time do make mention of such sorceries," +said Uncle Rawson. "It is long since I have read any of then; but +Virgil and Apulius do, if I mistake not, speak of this power over the +elements." + +"Do you not remember, father," said Rebecca, "some verses of Tibullus, +in which he speaketh of a certain enchantress? Some one hath rendered +them thus:-- + + "Her with charms drawing stars from heaven, I, + And turning the course of rivers, did espy. + She parts the earth, and ghosts from sepulchres + Draws up, and fetcheth bones away from fires, + And at her pleasure scatters clouds in the air, + And makes it snow in summer hot and fair." + +Here Sir Thomas laughingly told Rebecca, that he did put more faith in +what these old writers did tell of the magic arts of the sweet-singing +sirens, and of Circe and her enchantments, and of the Illyrian maidens, +so wonderful in their beauty, who did kill with their looks such as they +were angry with. + +"It was, perhaps, for some such reason," said Rebecca, "that, as Mr. +Abbott tells me; the General Court many years ago did forbid women to +live on these islands." + +"Pray, how was that?" asked Sir Thomas. + +"You must know," answered our host, "that in the early settlement of +the Shoals, vessels coming for fish upon this coast did here make their +harbor, bringing hither many rude sailors of different nations; and the +Court judged that it was not a fitting place for women, and so did by +law forbid their dwelling on the islands belonging to the +Massachusetts." + +He then asked his wife to get the order of the Court concerning her stay +on the islands, remarking that he did bring her over from the Maine in +despite of the law. So his wife fetched it, and Uncle Rawson read it, +it being to this effect,--"That a petition having been sent to the +Court, praying that the law might be put in force in respect to John +Abbott his wife, the Court do judge it meet, if no further complaint +come against her, that she enjoy the company of her husband." Whereat +we all laughed heartily. + +Next morning, the fog breaking away early, we set sail for Agamenticus, +running along the coast and off the mouth of the Piscataqua River, +passing near where my lamented Uncle Edward dwelt, whose fame as a +worthy gentleman and magistrate is still living. We had Mount +Agamenticus before us all day,--a fair stately hill, rising up as it +were from the water. Towards night a smart shower came on, with +thunderings and lightnings such as I did never see or hear before; and +the wind blowing and a great rain driving upon us, we were for a time in +much peril; but, through God's mercy, it suddenly cleared up, and we +went into the Agamenticus River with a bright sun. Before dark we got +to the house of my honored uncle, where, he not being at home, his wife +and daughters did receive us kindly. + + + +September 10. + +I do find myself truly comfortable at this place. My two cousins, Polly +and Thankful, are both young, unmarried women, very kind and pleasant, +and, since my Newbury friends left, I have been learning of them many +things pertaining to housekeeping, albeit I am still but a poor scholar. +Uncle is Marshall of the Province, which takes him much from home; and +aunt, who is a sickly woman, keeps much in her chamber; so that the +affairs of the household and of the plantation do mainly rest upon the +young women. If ever I get back to Hilton Grange again, I shall have +tales to tell of my baking and brewing, of my pumpkin-pies, and bread +made of the flour of the Indian corn; yea, more, of gathering of the +wild fruit in the woods, and cranberries in the meadows, milking the +cows, and looking after the pigs and barnyard fowls. Then, too, we have +had many pleasant little journeys by water and on horseback, young +Mr. Jordan, of Spurwiuk, who hath asked Polly in marriage, going with us. +A right comely youth he is, but a great Churchman, as might be expected, +his father being the minister of the Black Point people, and very bitter +towards the Massachusetts and its clergy and government. My uncle, who +meddles little with Church' matters, thinks him a hopeful young man, and +not an ill suitor for his daughter. He hath been in England for his +learning, and is accounted a scholar; but, although intended for the +Church service, he inclineth more to the life of a planter, and taketh +the charge of his father's plantation at Spurwink. Polly is not +beautiful and graceful like Rebecca Rawson, but she hath freshness of +youth and health, and a certain good-heartedness of look and voice, and +a sweetness of temper which do commend her in the eyes of all. Thankful +is older by some years, and, if not as cheerful and merry as her sister, +it needs not be marvelled at, since one whom she loved was killed in the +Narragansett country two years ago. O these bloody wars. There be few +in these Eastern Provinces who have not been called to mourn the loss of +some near and dear friend, so that of a truth the land mourns. + + + +September 18. + +Meeting much disturbed yesterday,--a ranting Quaker coming in and +sitting with his hat on in sermon time, humming and groaning, and +rocking his body to and fro like one possessed. After a time he got up, +and pronounced a great woe upon the priests, calling them many hard +names, and declaring that the whole land stank with their hypocrisy. +Uncle spake sharply to him, and bid him hold his peace, but he only +cried out the louder. Some young men then took hold of him, and carried +him out. They brought him along close to my seat, he hanging like a bag +of meal, with his eyes shut, as ill-favored a body as I ever beheld. +The magistrates had him smartly whipped this morning, and sent out of +the jurisdiction. I was told he was no true Quaker; for, although a +noisy, brawling hanger-on at their meetings, he is not in fellowship +with the more sober and discreet of that people. + +Rebecca writes me that the witchcraft in William Morse's house is much +talked of; and that Caleb Powell hath been complained of as the wizard. +Mr. Jordan the elder says he does in no wise marvel at the Devil's power +in the Massachusetts, since at his instigation the rulers and ministers +of the Colony have set themselves, against the true and Gospel order of +the Church, and do slander and persecute all who will not worship at +their conventicles. + +A Mr. Van Valken, a young gentleman of Dutch descent, and the agent of +Mr. Edmund Andross, of the Duke of York's Territory, is now in this +place, being entertained by Mr. Godfrey, the late Deputy-Governor. He +brought a letter for me from Aunt Rawson, whom he met in Boston. He is +a learned, serious man, hath travelled a good deal, and hath an air of +high breeding. The minister here thinks him a Papist, and a Jesuit, +especially as he hath not called upon him, nor been to the meeting. He +goes soon to Pemaquid, to take charge of that fort and trading station, +which have greatly suffered by the war. + + + +September 30. + +Yesterday, Cousin Polly and myself, with young Mr. Jordan, went up to +the top of the mountain, which is some miles from the harbor. It is not +hard to climb in respect to steepness, but it is so tangled with bushes +and vines, that one can scarce break through them. The open places were +yellow with golden-rods, and the pale asters were plenty in the shade, +and by the side of the brooks, that with pleasing noise did leap down +the hill. When we got upon the top, which is bare and rocky, we had a +fair view of the coast, with its many windings and its islands, from the +Cape Ann, near Boston, to the Cape Elizabeth, near Casco, the Piscataqua +and Agamenticus rivers; and away in the northwest we could see the peaks +of mountains looking like summer clouds or banks of gray fog. These +mountains lie many leagues off in the wilderness, and are said to be +exceeding lofty. + +But I must needs speak of the color of the woods, which did greatly +amaze me, as unlike anything I had ever seen in old England. As far as +mine eyes could look, the mighty wilderness, under the bright westerly +sun, and stirred by a gentle wind, did seem like a garden in its season +of flowering; green, dark, and light, orange, and pale yellow, and +crimson leaves, mingling and interweaving their various hues, in a +manner truly wonderful to behold. It is owing, I am told, to the sudden +frosts, which in this climate do smite the vegetation in its full life +and greenness, so that in the space of a few days the colors of the +leaves are marvellously changed and brightened. These colors did remind +me of the stains of the windows of old churches, and of rich tapestry. +The maples were all aflame with crimson, the walnuts were orange, the +hemlocks and cedars were wellnigh black; while the slender birches, with +their pale yellow leaves, seemed painted upon them as pictures are laid +upon a dark ground. I gazed until mine eyes grew weary, and a sense of +the wonderful beauty of the visible creation, and of God's great +goodness to the children of men therein, did rest upon me, and I said in +mine heart, with one of old: "O Lord! how manifold are thy works in +wisdom hast thou made them all, and the earth is full of thy riches." + + + +October 6. + +Walked out to the iron mines, a great hole digged in the rocks, many +years ago, for the finding of iron. Aunt, who was then just settled in +housekeeping, told me many wonderful stories of the man who caused it to +be digged, a famous doctor of physic, and, as it seems, a great wizard +also. He bought a patent of land on the south side of the Saco River, +four miles by the sea, and eight miles up into the main-land of Mr. +Vines, the first owner thereof; and being curious in the seeking and +working of metals, did promise himself great riches in this new country; +but his labors came to nothing, although it was said that Satan helped +him, in the shape of a little blackamoor man-servant, who was his +constant familiar. My aunt says she did often see him, wandering about +among the hills and woods, and along the banks of streams of water, +searching for precious ores and stones. He had even been as far as the +great mountains, beyond Pigwackett, climbing to the top thereof, where +the snows lie wellnigh all the year, his way thither lying through +doleful swamps and lonesome woods. He was a great friend of the +Indians, who held him to be a more famous conjurer than their own +powahs; and, indeed, he was learned in all curious and occult arts, +having studied at the great College of Padua, and travelled in all parts +of the old countries. He sometimes stopped in his travels at my uncle's +house, the little blackamoor sleeping in the barn, for my aunt feared +him, as he was reputed to be a wicked imp. Now it so chanced that on +one occasion my uncle had lost a cow, and had searched the woods many +days for her to no purpose, when, this noted doctor coming in, he +besought him to find her out by his skill and learning; but he did +straightway deny his power to do so, saying he was but a poor scholar, +and lover of science, and had no greater skill in occult matters than +any one might attain to by patient study of natural things. But as mine +uncle would in no wise be so put off, and still pressing him to his art, +he took a bit of coal, and began to make marks on the floor, in a very +careless way. + +Then he made a black dot in the midst, and bade my uncle take heed that +his cow was lying dead in that spot; and my uncle looking at it, said he +Could find her, for he now knew where she was, inasmuch as the doctor +had made a fair map of the country round about for many miles. So he +set off, and found the cow lying at the foot of a great tree, close +beside a brook, she being quite dead, which thing did show that he was a +magician of no Mean sort. + +My aunt further said, that in those days there was great talk of mines +of gold and precious stones, and many people spent all their substance +in wandering about over the wilderness country seeking a fortune in this +way. There was one old man, who, she remembered, did roam about seeking +for hidden treasures, until he lost his wits, and might be seen filling +a bag with bright stones and shining sand, muttering and laughing to +himself. He was at last missed for some little time, when he was found +lying dead in the woods, still holding fast in his hands his bag of +pebbles. + +On my querying whether any did find treasures hereabout, my aunt +laughed, and said she never heard of but one man who did so, and that +was old Peter Preble of Saco, who, growing rich faster than his +neighbors, was thought to owe his fortune to the finding of a gold or +silver mine. When he was asked about it, he did by no means deny it, +but confessed he had found treasures in the sea as well as on the land; +and, pointing to his loaded fish-flakes and his great cornfields, said, +"Here are my mines." So that afterwards, when any one prospered greatly +in his estate, it was said of him by his neighbors, "He has been working +Peter Preble's mine." + + + +October 8. + +Mr. Van Valken, the Dutchman, had before Mr. Rishworth, one of the +Commissioners of the Province, charged with being a Papist and a Jesuit. +He bore himself, I am told, haughtily enough, denying the right to call +him in question, and threatening the interference of his friend and +ruler, Sir Edmund, on account of the wrong done him. + +My uncle and others did testify that he was a civil and courteous +gentleman, not intermeddling with matters of a religious nature; and +that they did regard it as a foul shame to the town that he should be +molested in this wise. But the minister put them to silence, by +testifying that he (Van Valken) had given away sundry Papist books; and, +one of them being handed to the Court, it proved to be a Latin Treatise, +by a famous Papist, intituled, "The Imitation of Christ." Hereupon, Mr. +Godfrey asked if there was aught evil in the book. The minister said it +was written by a monk, and was full of heresy, favoring both the Quakers +and the Papists; but Mr. Godfrey told him it had been rendered into the +English tongue, and printed some years before in the Massachusetts Bay; +and asked him if he did accuse such men as Mr. Cotton and Mr. Wilson, +and the pious ministers of their day, of heresy. "Nay," quoth the +minister, "they did see the heresy of the book, and, on their condemning +it, the General Court did forbid its sale." Mr. Rishworth hereupon said +he did judge the book to be pernicious, and bade the constable burn it +in the street, which he did. Mr. Van Valken, after being gravely +admonished, was set free; and he now saith he is no Papist, but that he +would not have said that much to the Court to save his life, inasmuch as +he did deny its right of arraigning him. Mr. Godfrey says the treatment +whereof he complains is but a sample of what the people hereaway are to +look for from the Massachusetts jurisdiction. Mr. Jordan, the younger, +says his father hath a copy of the condemned book, of the Boston +printing; and I being curious to see it, he offers to get it for me. + +Like unto Newbury, this is an old town for so new a country. It was +made a city in 1642, and took the name of Gorgeana, after that of the +lord proprietor, Sir Ferdinando Gorges. The government buildings are +spacious, but now falling into decay somewhat. There be a few stone +houses, but the major part are framed, or laid up with square logs. The +look of the land a little out of the town is rude and unpleasing, being +much covered with stones and stumps; yet the soil is said to be strong, +and the pear and apple do flourish well here; also they raise rye, oats, +and barley, and the Indian corn, and abundance of turnips, as well as +pumpkins, squashes, and melons. The war with the Indians, and the +troubles and changes of government, have pressed heavily upon this and +other towns of the Maine, so that I am told that there be now fewer +wealthy planters here than there were twenty years ago, and little +increase of sheep or horned cattle. The people do seem to me less sober +and grave, in their carriage and conversation, than they of the +Massachusetts,--hunting, fishing, and fowling more, and working on the +land less. Nor do they keep the Lord's Day so strict; many of the young +people going abroad, both riding and walking, visiting each other, and +diverting themselves, especially after the meetings are over. + + + +October 9. + +Goodwife Nowell, an ancient gossip of mine aunt's, looking in this +morning, and talking of the trial of the Dutchman, Van Valken, spake +of the coming into these parts many years ago of one Sir Christopher +Gardiner, who was thought to be a Papist. He sought lodgings at her +house for one whom he called his cousin, a fair young woman, together +with her serving girl, who did attend upon her. She tarried about a +month, seeing no one, and going out only towards the evening, +accompanied by her servant. She spake little, but did seem melancholy +and exceeding mournful, often crying very bitterly. Sir Christopher +came only once to see her, and Good wife Nowell saith she well remembers +seeing her take leave of him on the roadside, and come back weeping and +sobbing dolefully; and that a little time after, bearing that he had +gotten into trouble in Boston as a Papist and man of loose behavior, she +suddenly took her departure in a vessel sailing for the Massachusetts, +leaving to her, in pay for house-room and diet, a few coins, a gold +cross, and some silk stuffs and kerchiefs. The cross being such as the +Papists do worship, and therefore unlawful, her husband did beat it into +a solid wedge privately, and kept it from the knowledge of the minister +and the magistrates. But as the poor man never prospered after, but +lost his cattle and grain, and two of their children dying of measles +the next year, and he himself being sickly, and near his end, he spake +to her of he golden cross, saying that he did believe it was a great sin +to keep it, as he had done, and that it had wrought evil upon him, even +as the wedge of gold, and the shekels, and Babylonish garment did upon +Achan, who was stoned, with all his house, in the valley of Achor; and +the minister coming in, and being advised concerning it, he judged that +although it might be a sin to keep it hidden from a love of riches, it +might, nevertheless, be safely used to support Gospel preaching and +ordinances, and so did himself take it away. The goodwife says, that +notwithstanding her husband died soon after, yet herself and household +did from thenceforth begin to amend their estate and condition. + +Seeing me curious concerning this Sir Christopher and his cousin, +Goodwife Nowell said there was a little parcel of papers which she found +in her room after the young woman went away, and she thought they might +yet be in some part of her house, though she had not seen them for a +score of years. Thereupon, I begged of her to look for them, which she +promised to do. + + + +October 14. + +A strange and wonderful providence! Last night there was a great +company of the neighbors at my uncle's, to help him in the husking and +stripping of the corn, as is the custom in these parts. The barn-floor +was about half-filled with the corn in its dry leaves; the company +sitting down on blocks and stools before it, plucking off the leaves, +and throwing the yellow ears into baskets. A pleasant and merry evening +we had; and when the corn was nigh stripped, I went into the house with +Cousin Thankful, to look to the supper and the laying of the tables, +when we heard a loud noise in the barn, and one of the girls came +running in, crying out, "O Thankful! Thankful! John Gibbins has +appeared to us! His spirit is in the barn!" The plates dropt from my +cousin's hand, and, with a faint cry, she fell back against the wall for +a little space; when, hearing a man's voice without, speaking her name, +she ran to the door, with the look of one beside herself; while I, +trembling to see her in such a plight, followed her. There was a clear +moon, and a tall man stood in the light close to the door. + +"John," said my cousin, in a quick, choking voice, "is it You?" + +"Why, Thankful, don't you know me? I'm alive; but the folks in the barn +will have it that I 'm a ghost," said the man, springing towards her. + +With a great cry of joy and wonder, my cousin caught hold of him: "O +John, you are alive!" + +Then she swooned quite away, and we had a deal to do to bring her to +life again. By this time, the house was full of people, and among the +rest came John's old mother and his sisters, and we all did weep and +laugh at the same time. As soon as we got a little quieted, John told +us that he had indeed been grievously stunned by the blow of a tomahawk, +and been left for dead by his comrades, but that after a time he did +come to his senses, and was able to walk; but, falling into the hands of +the Indians, he was carried off to the French Canadas, where, by reason +of his great sufferings on the way, he fell sick, and lay for a long +time at the point of death. That when he did get about again, the +savage who lodged him, and who had taken him as a son, in the place of +his own, slain by the Mohawks, would not let him go home, although he +did confess that the war was at an end. His Indian father, he said, who +was feeble and old, died not long ago, and he had made his way home by +the way of Crown Point and Albany. Supper being ready, we all sat down, +and the minister, who had been sent for, offered thanks for the +marvellous preserving and restoring of the friend who was lost and now +was found, as also for the blessings of peace, by reason of which every +man could now sit under his own vine and fig-tree, with none to molest +or make him afraid, and for the abundance of the harvest, and the +treasures of the seas, and the spoil of the woods, so that our land +might take up the song of the Psalmist: "The Lord doth build up +Jerusalem; he gathereth the outcasts of Israel; he healeth the broken in +heart. Praise thy God, O Zion I For he strengtheneth the bars of thy +gates, he maketh peace in thy borders, and filleth thee with the finest +of wheat." Oh! a sweet supper we had, albeit little was eaten, for we +were filled fall of joy, and needed not other food. When the company +had gone, my dear cousin and her betrothed went a little apart, and +talked of all that had happened unto them during their long separation. +I left them sitting lovingly together in the light of the moon, and a +measure of their unspeakable happiness did go with me to my pillow. + +This morning, Thankful came to my bedside to pour out her heart to me. +The poor girl is like a new creature. The shade of her heavy sorrow, +which did formerly rest upon her countenance, hath passed off like a +morning cloud, and her eye hath the light of a deep and quiet joy. + +"I now know," said she, "what David meant when he said, 'We are like +them that dream; our mouth is filled with laughter, and our tongue with +singing; the Lord hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad!'" + + + +October 18. + +A cloudy wet day. Goody Nowell brought me this morning a little parcel +of papers, which she found in the corner of a closet. They are much +stained and smoked, and the mice have eaten them sadly, so that I can +make little of them. They seem to be letters, and some fragments of +what did take place in the life of a young woman of quality from the +North of England. I find frequent mention made of Cousin Christopher, +who is also spoken of as a soldier in the wars with the Turks, and as a +Knight of Jerusalem. Poorly as I can make out the meaning of these +fragments, I have read enough to make my heart sad, for I gather from +them that the young woman was in early life betrothed to her cousin, and +that afterwards, owing, as I judge, to the authority of her parents, she +did part with him, he going abroad, and entering into the wars, in the +belief that she was to wed another. But it seemed that the heart of the +young woman did so plead for her cousin, that she could not be brought +to marry as her family willed her to do; and, after a lapse of years, +she, by chance hearing that Sir Christopher had gone to the New England, +where he was acting as an agent of his kinsman, Sir Ferdinando Gorges, +in respect to the Maine Province, did privately leave her home, and take +passage in a Boston bound ship. How she did make herself known to Sir +Christopher, I find no mention made; but, he now being a Knight of the +Order of St. John of Jerusalem, and vowed to forego marriage, as is the +rule of that Order, and being, moreover, as was thought, a priest or +Jesuit, her great love and constancy could meet with but a sorrowful +return on his part. It does appear, however, that he journeyed to +Montreal, to take counsel of some of the great Papist priests there, +touching the obtaining of a dispensation from the Head of the Church, +so that he might marry the young woman; but, getting no encouragement +therein, he went to Boston to find a passage for her to England again. +He was there complained of as a Papist; and the coming over of his +cousin being moreover known, a great and cruel scandal did arise from +it, and he was looked upon as a man of evil life, though I find nothing +to warrant such a notion, but much to the contrary thereof. What became +of him and the young woman, his cousin, in the end, I do not learn. + +One small parcel did affect me even unto tears. It was a paper +containing some dry, withered leaves of roses, with these words written +on it "To Anna, from her loving cousin, Christopher Gardiner, being the +first rose that hath blossomed this season in the College garden. St. +Omer's, June, 1630." I could but think how many tears had been shed +over this little token, and how often, through long, weary years, it did +call to mind the sweet joy of early love, of that fairest blossom of the +spring of life of which it was an emblem, alike in its beauty and its +speedy withering. + +There be moreover among the papers sundry verses, which do seem to have +been made by Sir Christopher; they are in the Latin tongue, and +inscribed to his cousin, bearing date many years before the twain were +in this country, and when he was yet a scholar at the Jesuits' College +of St. Omer's, in France. I find nothing of a later time, save the +verses which I herewith copy, over which there are, in a woman's +handwriting, these words: + + +"VERSES + +"Writ by Sir Christopher when a prisoner among the Turks in Moldavia, +and expecting death at their hands. + + 1. + "Ere down the blue Carpathian hills + The sun shall fall again, + Farewell this life and all its ills, + Farewell to cell and chain + + 2. + "These prison shades are dark and cold, + But darker far than they + The shadow of a sorrow old + Is on mine heart alway. + + 3. + "For since the day when Warkworth wood + Closed o'er my steed and I,-- + An alien from my name and blood,-- + A weed cast out to die; + + 4. + "When, looking back, in sunset light + I saw her turret gleam, + And from its window, far and white, + Her sign of farewell stream; + + 5. + "Like one who from some desert shore + Does home's green isles descry, + And, vainly longing, gazes o'er + The waste of wave and sky, + + 6. + "So, from the desert of my fate, + Gaze I across the past; + And still upon life's dial-plate + The shade is backward cast + + 7. + "I've wandered wide from shore to shore, + I've knelt at many a shrine, + And bowed me to the rocky floor + Where Bethlehem's tapers shine; + + 8. + "And by the Holy Sepulchre + I've pledged my knightly sword, + To Christ his blessed Church, and her + The Mother of our Lord! + + 9. + "Oh, vain the vow, and vain the strife + How vain do all things seem! + My soul is in the past, and life + To-day is but a dream. + + 10. + "In vain the penance strange and long, + And hard for flesh to bear; + The prayer, the fasting, and the thong, + And sackcloth shirt of hair: + + 11. + "The eyes of memory will not sleep, + Its ears are open still, + And vigils with the past they keep + Against or with my will. + + 12. + "And still the loves and hopes of old + Do evermore uprise; + I see the flow of locks of gold, + The shine of loving eyes. + + 13. + "Ah me! upon another's breast + Those golden locks recline; + I see upon another rest + The glance that once was mine! + + 14. + "'O faithless priest! O perjured knight!' + I hear the master cry, + + 'Shut out the vision from thy sight, + Let earth and nature die.' + + 15. + "'The Church of God is now my spouse, + And thou the bridegroom art; + Then let the burden of thy vows + Keep down thy human heart.' + + 16. + "In vain!--This heart its grief must know, + Till life itself hath ceased, + And falls beneath the self-same blow + The lover and the priest! + + 17. + "O pitying Mother! souls of light, + And saints and martyrs old, + Pray for a weak and sinful knight, + A suffering man uphold. + + 18. + "Then let the Paynim work his will, + Let death unbind my chain, + Ere down yon blue Carpathian hill + The sunset falls again!" + + +My heart is heavy with the thought of these unfortunates. Where be they +now? Did the knight forego his false worship and his vows, and so marry +his beloved Anna? Or did they part forever,--she going back to her +kinsfolk, and he to his companions of Malta? Did he perish at the hands +of the infidels, and does the maiden sleep in the family tomb, under her +father's oaks? Alas! who can tell? I must needs leave them, and their +sorrows and trials, to Him who doth not willingly afflict the children +of men; and whatsoever may have been their sins and their follies, my +prayer is, that they may be forgiven, for they loved much. + + + +October 20. + +I do purpose to start to-morrow for the Massachusetts, going by boat to +the Piscataqua River, and thence by horse to Newbury. + +Young Mr. Jordan spent yesterday and last night with us. He is a goodly +youth, of a very sweet and gentle disposition; nor doth he seem to me to +lack spirit, although his father (who liketh not his quiet ways and easy +temper, so contrary to his own, and who is sorely disappointed in that +he hath chosen the life of a farmer to that of a minister, for which he +did intend him) often accuseth him of that infirmity. Last night we had +much pleasant discourse touching the choice he hath made; and when I +told him that perhaps he might have become a great prelate in the +Church, and dwelt in a palace, and made a great lady of our cousin; +whereas now I did see no better prospect for him than to raise corn for +his wife to make pudding of, and chop wood to boil her kettle, he +laughed right merrily, and said he should never have gotten higher than +a curate in a poor parish; and as for Polly, he was sure she was more at +home in making puddings than in playing the fine lady. + +"For my part," he continued, in a serious manner, "I have no notion that +the pulpit is my place; I like the open fields and sky better than the +grandest churches of man's building; and when the wind sounds in the +great grove of pines on the hill near our house, I doubt if there be a +choir in all England so melodious and solemn. These painted autumn +woods, and this sunset light, and yonder clouds of gold and purple, do +seem to me better fitted to provoke devotional thoughts, and to awaken a +becoming reverence and love for the Creator, than the stained windows +and lofty arched roofs of old minsters. I do know, indeed, that there +be many of our poor busy planters, who, by reason of ignorance, ill- +breeding, and lack of quiet for contemplation, do see nothing in these +things, save as they do affect their crops of grain or grasses, or their +bodily comforts in one way or another. But to them whose minds have +been enlightened and made large and free by study and much reflection, +and whose eyes have been taught to behold the beauty and fitness of +things, and whose ears have been so opened that they can hear the +ravishing harmonies of the creation, the life of a planter is very +desirable even in this wilderness, and notwithstanding the toil and +privation thereunto appertaining. There be fountains gushing up in the +hearts of such, sweeter than the springs of water which flow from the +hillsides, where they sojourn; and therein, also, flowers of the summer +do blossom all the year long. The brutish man knoweth not this, neither +doth the fool comprehend it." + +"See, now," said Polly to me, "how hard he is upon us poor unlearned +folk." + +"Nay, to tell the truth," said he, turning towards me, "your cousin here +is to be held not a little accountable for my present inclinations; for +she it was who did confirm and strengthen them. While I had been busy +over books, she had been questioning the fields and the woods; and, as +if the old fables of the poets were indeed true, she did get answers +from them, as the priestesses and sibyls did formerly from the rustling +of leaves and trees, and the sounds of running waters; so that she could +teach me much concerning the uses and virtues of plants and shrubs, and +of their time of flowering and decay; of the nature and habitudes of +wild animals and birds, the changes of the air, and of the clouds and +winds. My science, so called, had given me little more than the names +of things which to her were familiar and common. It was in her company +that I learned to read nature as a book always open, and full of +delectable teachings, until my poor school-lore did seem undesirable and +tedious, and the very chatter of the noisy blackbirds in the spring +meadows more profitable and more pleasing than the angry disputes and +the cavils and subtleties of schoolmen and divines." + +My cousin blushed, and, smiling through her moist eyes at this language +of her beloved friend, said that I must not believe all he said; for, +indeed, it was along of his studies of the heathen poets that he had +first thought of becoming a farmer. And she asked him to repeat some of +the verses which he had at his tongue's end. He laughed, and said he +did suppose she meant some lines of Horace, which had been thus +Englished:-- + + "I often wished I had a farm, + A decent dwelling, snug and warm, + A garden, and a spring as pure + As crystal flowing by my door, + Besides an ancient oaken grove, + Where at my leisure I might rove. + + "The gracious gods, to crown my bliss, + Have granted this, and more than this,-- + They promise me a modest spouse, + To light my hearth and keep my house. + I ask no more than, free from strife, + To hold these blessings all my life!" + +Tam exceedingly pleased, I must say, with the prospect of my cousin +Polly. Her suitor is altogether a worthy young man; and, making +allowances for the uncertainty of all human things, she may well look +forward to a happy life with him. I shall leave behind on the morrow +dear friends, who were strangers unto me a few short weeks ago, but in +whose joys and sorrows I shall henceforth always partake, so far as I do +come to the knowledge of them, whether or no I behold their faces any +more in this life. + + + +HAMPTON, October 24, 1678. + +I took leave of my good friends at Agamenticus, or York, as it is now +called, on the morning after the last date in my journal, going in a +boat with my uncle to Piscataqua and Strawberry Bank. It was a cloudy +day, and I was chilled through before we got to the mouth of the river; +but, as the high wind was much in our favor, we were enabled to make the +voyage in a shorter time than is common. We stopped a little at the +house of a Mr. Cutts, a man of some note in these parts; but he being +from home, and one of the children sick with a quinsy, we went up the +river to Strawberry Bank, where we tarried over night. The woman who +entertained us had lost her husband in the war, and having to see to the +ordering of matters out of doors in this busy season of harvest, it was +no marvel that she did neglect those within. I made a comfortable +supper of baked pumpkin and milk, and for lodgings I had a straw bed on +the floor, in the dark loft, which was piled wellnigh full with corn- +ears, pumpkins, and beans, besides a great deal of old household +trumpery, wool, and flax, and the skins of animals. Although tired of +my journey, it was some little time before I could get asleep; and it so +fell out, that after the folks of the house were all abed, and still, it +being, as I judge, nigh midnight, I chanced to touch with my foot a +pumpkin lying near the bed, which set it a-rolling down the stairs, +bumping hard on every stair as it went. Thereupon I heard a great stir +below, the woman and her three daughters crying out that the house was +haunted. Presently she called to me from the foot of the stairs, and +asked me if I did hear anything. I laughed so at all this, that it was +some time before I could speak; when I told her I did hear a thumping on +the stairs. "Did it seem to go up, or down?" inquired she, anxiously; +and on my telling her that the sound went downward, she set up a sad +cry, and they all came fleeing into the corn-loft, the girls bouncing +upon my bed, and hiding under the blanket, and the old woman praying and +groaning, and saying that she did believe it was the spirit of her poor +husband. By this time my uncle, who was lying on the settle in the room +below, hearing the noise, got up, and stumbling over the pumpkin, called +to know what was the matter. Thereupon the woman bade him flee up +stairs, for there was a ghost in the kitchen. "Pshaw!" said my uncle, +"is that all? I thought to be sure the Indians had come." As soon as I +could speak for laughing, I told the poor creature what it was that so +frightened her; at which she was greatly vexed; and, after she went to +bed again, I could hear her scolding me for playing tricks upon honest +people. + +We were up betimes in the morning, which was bright and pleasant. Uncle +soon found a friend of his, a Mr. Weare, who, with his wife, was to go +to his home, at Hampton, that day, and who did kindly engage to see me +thus far on my way. At about eight of the clock we got upon our horses, +the woman riding on a pillion behind her husband. Our way was for some +miles through the woods,--getting at times a view of the sea, and +passing some good, thriving plantations. The woods in this country are +by no means like those of England, where the ancient trees are kept +clear of bushes and undergrowth, and the sward beneath them is shaven +clean and close; whereas here they be much tangled with vines, and the +dead boughs and logs which have fallen, from their great age or which +the storms do beat off, or the winter snows and ices do break down. +Here, also, through the thick matting of dead leaves, all manner of +shrubs and bushes, some of them very sweet and fair in their flowering, +and others greatly prized for their healing virtues, do grow up +plenteously. In the season of them, many wholesome fruits abound in the +woods, such as blue and black berries. We passed many trees, well +loaded with walnuts and oilnuts, seeming all alive, as it were, with +squirrels, striped, red, and gray, the last having a large, spreading +tail, which Mr. Weare told me they do use as a sail, to catch the wind, +that it may blow them over rivers and creeks, on pieces of bark, in some +sort like that wonderful shell-fish which transformeth itself into a +boat, and saileth on the waves of the sea. We also found grapes, both +white and purple, hanging down in clusters from the trees, over which +the vines did run, nigh upon as large as those which the Jews of old +plucked at Eschol. The air was sweet and soft, and there was a clear, +but not a hot sun, and the chirping of squirrels, and the noise of +birds, and the sound of the waves breaking on the beach a little +distance off, and the leaves, at every breath of the wind in the tree- +tops, whirling and fluttering down about me, like so many yellow and +scarlet-colored birds, made the ride wonderfully pleasant and +entertaining. + +Mr. Weare, on the way, told me that there was a great talk of the +bewitching of Goodman Morse's house at Newbury, and that the case of +Caleb Powell was still before the Court, he being vehemently suspected +of the mischief. I told him I thought the said Caleb was a vain, +talking man, but nowise of a wizard. The thing most against him, Mr. +Weare said, was this: that he did deny at the first that the house was +troubled by evil spirits, and even went so far as to doubt that such +things could be at all. "Yet many wiser men than Caleb Powell do deny +the same," I said. "True," answered he; "but, as good Mr. Richardson, +of Newbury, well saith, there have never lacked Sadducees, who believe +not in angel or spirit." I told the story of the disturbance at +Strawberry Bank the night before, and how so silly a thing as a rolling +pumpkin did greatly terrify a whole household; and said I did not doubt +this Newbury trouble was something very like it. Hereupon the good +woman took the matter up, saying she had been over to Newbury, and had +seen with her own eyes, and heard with her own ears; and that she could +say of it as the Queen of Sheba did of Solomon's glory, "The half had +not been told her." She then went on to tell me of many marvellous and +truly unaccountable things, so that I must needs think there is an +invisible hand at work there. + +We reached Hampton about one hour before noon; and riding up the road +towards the meeting-house, to my great joy, Uncle Rawson, who had +business with the Commissioners then sitting, came out to meet me, +bidding me go on to Mr. Weare's house, whither he would follow me when +the Court did adjourn. He came thither accordingly, to sup and lodge, +bringing with him Mr. Pike the elder, one of the magistrates, a grave, +venerable man, the father of mine old acquaintance, Robert. Went in the +evening with Mistress Weare and her maiden sister to see a young girl in +the neighborhood, said to be possessed, or bewitched; but for mine own +part I did see nothing in her behavior beyond that of a vicious and +spoiled child, delighting in mischief. Her grandmother, with whom she +lives, lays the blame on an ill-disposed woman, named Susy Martin, +living in Salisbury. Mr. Pike, who dwells near this Martin, saith she +is no witch, although an arrant scold, as was her mother before her; and +as for the girl, he saith that a birch twig, smartly laid on, would cure +her sooner than the hanging of all the old women in the Colony. +Mistress Weare says this is not the first time the Evil Spirit hath been +at work in Hampton; for they did all remember the case of Goody +Marston's child, who was, from as fair and promising an infant as one +would wish to see, changed into the likeness of an ape, to the great +grief and sore shame of its parents; and, moreover, that when the child +died, there was seen by more than one person a little old woman in a +blue cloak, and petticoat of the same color, following on after the +mourners, and looking very like old Eunice Cole, who was then locked +fast in Ipswich jail, twenty miles off. Uncle Rawson says he has all +the papers in his possession touching the trial of this Cole, and will +let me see them when we get back to Newbury. There was much talk on +this matter, which so disturbed my fancy that I slept but poorly. This +afternoon we go over to Newbury, where, indeed, I do greatly long to be +once more. + + + +NEWBURY, October 26. + +Cousin Rebecca gone to Boston, and not expected home until next week. +The house seems lonely without her. R. Pike looked in upon us this +morning, telling us that there was a rumor in Boston, brought by way of +the New York Colony, that a great Papist Plot had been discovered in +England, and that it did cause much alarm in London and thereabout. +R. Pike saith he doubts not the Papists do plot, it being the custom of +their Jesuits so to do; but that, nevertheless, it would be no strange +thing if it should be found that the Bishops and the Government did set +this rumor a-going, for the excuse and occasion of some new persecutions +of Independents and godly people. + + + +October 27. + +Mr. Richardson preached yesterday, from Deuteronomy xviii. 10th, 11th, +and 12th verses. An ingenious and solid discourse, in which he showed +that, as among the heathen nations surrounding the Jews, there were +sorcerers, charmers, wizards, and consulters with familiar spirits, who +were an abomination to the Lord, so in our time the heathen nations of +Indians had also their powahs and panisees and devilish wizards, against +whom the warning of the text might well be raised by the watchmen on the +walls of our Zion. He moreover said that the arts of the Adversary were +now made manifest in this place in a most strange and terrible manner, +and it did become the duty of all godly persons to pray and wrestle with +the Lord, that they who have made a covenant with hell may be speedily +discovered in their wickedness, and cut off from the congregation. An +awful discourse, which made many tremble and quake, and did quite +overcome Goodwife Morse, she being a weakly woman, so that she had to be +carried out of the meeting. + +It being cold weather, and a damp easterly wind keeping me within doors, +I have been looking over with uncle his papers about the Hampton witch, +Eunice Cole, who was twice tried for her mischiefs; and I incline to +copy some of them, as I know they will be looked upon as worthy of, +record by my dear Cousin Oliver and mine other English friends. I find +that as long ago as the year 1656, this same Eunice Cole was complained +of, and many witnesses did testify to her wickedness. Here followeth +some of the evidence on the first trial:-- + +"The deposition of Goody Marston and Goodwife Susanna Palmer, who, being +sworn, sayeth, that Goodwife Cole saith that she was sure there was a +witch in town, and that she knew where he dwelt, and who they are, and +that thirteen years ago she knew one bewitched as Goodwife Marston's +child was, and she was sure that party was bewitched, for it told her +so, and it was changed from a man to an ape, as Goody Marston's child +was, and she had prayed this thirteen year that God would discover that +witch. And further the deponent saith not. + +"Taken on oath before the Commissioners of Hampton, the 8th of the 2nd +mo., 1656. + + "WILLIAM FULLER. + "HENRY DOW. + + "Vera copea: + "THOS. BRADBURY, Recorder. + + "Sworn before, the 4th of September, 1656, + + "EDWARD RAWSON. + + +"Thomas Philbrick testifieth that Goody Cole told him that if any of his +calves did eat of her grass, she hoped it would poison them; and it fell +out that one never came home again, and the other coming home died soon +after. + +"Henry Morelton's wife and Goodwife Sleeper depose that, talking about +Goody Cole and Marston's child, they did hear a great scraping against +the boards of the window, which was not done by a cat or dog. + +"Thomas Coleman's wife testifies that Goody Cole did repeat to another +the very words which passed between herself and her husband, in their +own house, in private; and Thomas Ormsby, the constable of Salisbury, +testifies, that when he did strip Eunice Cole of her shift, to be +whipped, by the judgment of the Court at Salisbury, he saw a witch's +mark under her left breast. Moreover, one Abra. Drake doth depose and +say, that this Goody Cole threatened that the hand of God would be +against his cattle, and forthwith two of his cattle died, and before the +end of summer a third also." + + +About five years ago, she was again presented by the Jury for the +Massachusetts jurisdiction, for having "entered into a covenant with the +Devil, contrary to the peace of our Sovereign Lord the King, his crown +and dignity, the laws of God and this jurisdiction"; and much testimony +was brought against her, tending to show her to be an arrant witch. For +it seems she did fix her evil eye upon a little maid named Ann Smith, to +entice her to her house, appearing unto her in the shape of a little old +woman, in a blue coat, a blue cap, and a blue apron, and a white +neckcloth, and presently changing into a dog, and running up a tree, and +then into an eagle flying in the air, and lastly into a gray cat, +speaking to her, and troubling her in a grievous manner. Moreover, the +constable of the town of Hampton testifies, that, having to supply Goody +Cole with diet, by order of the town, she being poor, she complained +much of him, and after that his wife could bake no bread in the oven +which did not speedily rot and become loathsome to the smell, but the +same meal baked at a neighbor's made good and sweet bread; and, further, +that one night there did enter into their chamber a smell like that of +the bewitched bread, only more loathsome, and plainly diabolical in its +nature, so that, as the constable's wife saith, "she was fain to rise in +the night and desire her husband to go to prayer to drive away the +Devil; and he, rising, went to prayer, and after that, the smell was +gone, so that they were not troubled with it." There is also the +testimony of Goodwife Perkins, that she did see, on the Lord's day, +while Mr. Dalton was preaching, an imp in the shape of a mouse, fall out +the bosom of Eunice Cole down into her lap. For all which, the County +Court, held at Salisbury, did order her to be sent to the Boston Jail, +to await her trial at the Court of Assistants. This last Court, I learn +from mine uncle, did not condemn her, as some of the evidence was old, +and not reliable. Uncle saith she was a wicked old woman, who had been +often whipped and set in the ducking-stool, but whether she was a witch +or no, he knows not for a certainty. + + + +November 8. + +Yesterday, to my great joy, came my beloved Cousin Rebecca from Boston. +In her company also came the worthy minister and doctor of medicine, Mr. +Russ, formerly of Wells, but now settled at a plantation near Cocheco. +He is to make some little tarry in this town, where at this present time +many complain of sickness. Rebecca saith he is one of the excellent of +the earth, and, like his blessed Lord and Master, delighteth in going +about doing good, and comforting both soul and body. He hath a +cheerful, pleasant countenance, and is very active, albeit he is well +stricken in years. He is to preach for Mr. Richardson next Sabhath, and +in the mean time lodgeth at my uncle's house. + +This morning the weather is raw and cold, the ground frozen, and some +snow fell before sunrise. A little time ago, Dr. Russ, who was walking +in the garden, came in a great haste to the window where Rebecca and I +were sitting, bidding us come forth. So, we hurrying out, the good man +bade us look whither he pointed, and to! a flock of wild geese, +streaming across the sky, in two great files, sending down, as it were, +from the clouds, their loud and sonorous trumpetings, "Cronk, cronk, +cronk!" These birds, the Doctor saith, do go northward in March to +hatch their broods in the great bogs and on the desolate islands, and +fly back again when the cold season approacheth. Our worthy guest +improved the occasion to speak of the care and goodness of God towards +his creation, and how these poor birds are enabled, by their proper +instincts, to partake of his bounty, and to shun the evils of adverse +climates. He never looked, he said, upon the flight of these fowls, +without calling to mind the query which was of old put to Job: "Doth the +hawk fly by thy wisdom, and stretch her wings toward the south? Doth +the eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest on high?" + + + +November 12, 1678. + +Dr. Russ preached yesterday, having for his text 1 Corinthians, chap. +xiii. verse 5: "Charity seeketh not her own." He began by saying that +mutual benevolence was a law of nature,--no one being a whole of +himself, nor capable of happily subsisting by himself, but rather a +member of the great body of mankind, which must dissolve and perish, +unless held together and compacted in its various parts by the force of +that common and blessed law. The wise Author of our being hath most +manifestly framed and fitted us for one another, and ordained that +mutual charity shall supply our mutual wants and weaknesses, inasmuch +as no man liveth to himself, but is dependent upon others, as others be +upon him. It hath been said by ingenious men, that in the outward world +all things do mutually operate upon and affect each other; and that it +is by the energy of this principle that our solid earth is supported, +and the heavenly bodies are made to keep the rhythmic harmonies of their +creation, and dispense upon us their benign favors; and it may be said, +that a law akin to this hath been ordained for the moral world,--mutual +benevolence being the cement and support of families, and churches, and +states, and of the great community and brotherhood of mankind. It doth +both make and preserve all the peace, and harmony, and beauty, which +liken our world in some small degree to heaven, and without it all +things would rush into confusion and discord, and the earth would become +a place of horror and torment, and men become as ravening wolves, +devouring and being devoured by one another. + +Charity is the second great commandment, upon which hang all the Law +and the Prophets; and it is like unto the first, and cannot be separated +from it; for at the great day of recompense we shall be tried by these +commandments, and our faithfulness unto the first will be seen and +manifested by our faithfulness unto the last. Yea, by our love of one +another the Lord will measure our love of himself. "Inasmuch as ye have +done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto +me." The grace of benevolence is therefore no small part of our +meetness for the inheritance of the saints in light; it is the temper of +heaven; the air which the angels breathe; an immortal grace,--for when +faith which supporteth us here, and hope which is as an anchor to the +tossed soul, are no longer needed, charity remaineth forever, for it is +native in heaven, and partaketh of the divine nature, for God himself is +love. + +"Oh, my hearers," said the preacher, his venerable face brightening as +if with a light shining from within, "Doth not the Apostle tell us that +skill in tongues and gifts of prophecy, and mysteries of knowledge and +faith, do avail nothing where charity is lacking? What avail great +talents, if they be not devoted to goodness? On the other hand, where +charity dwelleth, it maketh the weak strong and the uncomely beautiful; +it sheddeth a glory about him who possesseth it, like that which did +shine on the face of Moses, or that which did sit upon the countenance +of Stephen, when his face was as the face of an angel. Above all, it +conformeth us to the Son of God; for through love he came among us, and +went about doing good, adorning his life with miracles of mercy, and at +last laid it down for the salvation of men. What heart can resist his +melting entreaty: 'Even as I have loved you, love ye also one another.' + +"We do all," he continued, "seek after happiness, but too often blindly +and foolishly. The selfish man, striving to live for himself, shutteth +himself up to partake of his single portion, and marvelleth that he +cannot enjoy it. The good things he hath laid up for himself fail to +comfort him; and although he hath riches, and wanteth nothing for his +soul of all that he desireth, yet hath he not power to partake thereof. +They be as delicates poured upon a mouth shut up, or as meats set upon a +grave. But he that hath found charity to be the temper of happiness, +which doth put the soul in a natural and easy condition, and openeth it +to the solaces of that pure and sublime entertainment which the angels +do spread for such as obey the will of their Creator, hath discovered a +more subtle alchemy than any of which the philosophers did dream,--for +he transmuteth the enjoyments of others into his own, and his large and +open heart partaketh of the satisfaction of all around him. Are there +any here who, in the midst of outward abundance, are sorrowful of +heart,--who go mourning on their way from some inward discomfort,---Who +long for serenity of spirit, and cheerful happiness, as the servant +earnestly desireth the shadow? Let such seek out the poor and forsaken, +they who have no homes nor estates, who are the servants of sin and evil +habits, who lack food for both the body and the mind. Thus shall they, +in rememering others, forget themselves; the pleasure they afford to +their fellow-creatures shall come back larger and fuller unto their own +bosoms, and they shall know of a truth how much the more blessed it is +to give than to receive. In love and compassion, God hath made us +dependent upon each other, to the end that by the use of our affections +we may find true happiness and rest to our souls. He hath united us so +closely with our fellows, that they do make, as it were, a part of our +being, and in comforting them we do most assuredly comfort ourselves. +Therein doth happiness come to us unawares, and without seeking, as the +servant who goeth on his master's errand findeth pleasant fruits and +sweet flowers overhanging him, and cool fountains, which he knew not of, +gushing up by the wayside, for his solace and refreshing." + +The minister then spake of the duty of charity towards even the sinful +and froward, and of winning them by love and good will, and making even +their correction and punishment a means of awakening them to repentance, +and the calling forth of the fruits meet for it. He also spake of self- +styled prophets and enthusiastic people, who went about to cry against +the Church and the State, and to teach new doctrines, saying that +oftentimes such were sent as a judgment upon the professors of the +truth, who had the form of godliness only, while lacking the power +thereof; and that he did believe that the zeal which had been manifested +against such had not always been enough seasoned with charity. It did +argue a lack of faith in the truth, to fly into a panic and a great rage +when it was called in question; and to undertake to become God's +avengers, and to torture and burn heretics, was an error of the Papists, +which ill became those who had gone out from among them. Moreover, he +did believe that many of these people, who had so troubled the Colony of +late, were at heart simple and honest men and women, whose heads might +indeed be unsound, but who at heart sought to do the will of God; and, +of a truth, all could testify to the sobriety and strictness of their +lives, and the justice of their dealings in outward things. He spake +also somewhat of the Indians, who, he said, were our brethren, and +concerning whom we would have an account to give at the Great Day. The +hand of these heathen people had been heavy upon the Colonies, and many +had suffered from their cruel slaughterings, and the captivity of +themselves and their families. Here the aged minister wept, for he +doubtless thought of his son, who was slain in the war; and for a time +the words did seem to die in his throat, so greatly was he moved. But +he went on to say, that since God, in his great and undeserved mercy, +had put an end to the war, all present unkindness and hard dealing +towards he poor benighted heathen was an offence in the eyes of Him who +respecteth not the persons of men, but who regardeth with an equal eye +the white and the red men, both being the workmanship of His hands. It +is our blessed privilege to labor to bring them to a knowledge of the +true God, whom, like the Athenians, some of them do ignorantly worship; +while the greater part, as was said of the heathen formerly, do not, +out of the good pings that are seen, know Him that is; neither by +considering the works do they acknowledge the workmaster, but deem the +fire or wind, or the swift air, or the circle of the stars, or the +violent water, or the lights of heaven, to be the gods who govern the +world. + +He counselled against mischief-makers and stirrers up of strife, and +such as do desire occasion against their brethren. He said that it did +seem as if many thought to atone for their own sins by their great heat +and zeal to discover wickedness in others; and that he feared such might +be the case now, when there was much talk of the outward and visible +doings of Satan in this place; whereas, the enemy was most to be feared +who did work privily in the heart; it being a small thing for him to +bewitch a dwelling made of wood and stone, who did so easily possess and +enchant the precious souls of men. + +Finally, he did exhort all to keep watch over their own spirits, and to +remember that what measure they do mete to others shall be measured to +them again; to lay aside all wrath, and malice, and evil-speaking; to +bear one another's burdens, and so make this Church in the wilderness +beautiful and comely, an example to the world of that peace and good +will to men, which the angels sang of at the birth of the blessed +Redeemer. + +I have been the more careful to give the substance of Mr. Russ's sermon, +as nearly as I can remember it, forasmuch as it hath given offence to +some who did listen to it. Deacon Dole saith it was such a discourse as +a Socinian or a Papist might have preached, for the great stress it laid +upon works; and Goodwife Matson, a noisy, talking woman,--such an one, +no doubt, as those busybodies whom Saint Paul did rebuke for +forwardness, and command to keep silence in the church,--says the +preacher did go out of his way to favor Quakers, Indians, and witches; +and that the Devil in Goody Morse's house was no doubt well pleased with +the discourse. R. Pike saith he does no wise marvel at her complaints; +for when she formerly dwelt at the Marblehead fishing-haven, she was one +of the unruly women who did break into Thompson's garrison-house, and +barbarously put to death two Saugus Indians, who had given themselves up +for safe keeping, and who had never harmed any, which thing was a great +grief and scandal to all well-disposed people. And yet this woman, who +scrupled not to say that she would as lief stick an Indian as a hog, and +who walked all the way from Marblehead to Boston to see the Quaker woman +hung, and did foully jest over her dead body, was allowed to have her +way in the church, Mr. Richardson being plainly in fear of her ill +tongue and wicked temper. + + + +November 13. + +The Quaker maid, Margaret Brewster, came this morning, inquiring for the +Doctor, and desiring him to visit a sick man at her father's house, a +little way up the river; whereupon he took his staff and went with her. +On his coming back, he said he must do the Quakers the justice to say, +that, with all their heresies and pestilent errors of doctrine, they +were a kind people; for here was Goodman Brewster, whose small estate +had been wellnigh taken from him in fines, and whose wife was a weak, +ailing woman, who was at this time kindly lodging and nursing a poor, +broken-down soldier, by no means likely to repay him, in any sort. As +for the sick man, he had been hardly treated in the matter of his wages, +while in the war, and fined, moreover, on the ground that he did profane +the holy Sabhath; and though he had sent a petition to the Honorable +Governor and Council, for the remission of the same, it had been to no +purpose. Mr. Russ said he had taken a copy of this petition, with the +answer thereto, intending to make another application himself to the +authorities; for although the petitioner might have been blamable, yet +his necessity did go far to excuse it. He gave me the papers to copy, +which are as followeth:-- + + +"To the Hon. the Governor and Council, now sitting in Boston, July 30, +1676. The Petition of Jonathan Atherton humbly showeth: + +"That your Petitioner, being a soldier under Captain Henchman, during +their abode at Concord, Captain H., under pretence of your petitioner's +profanation of the Sabhath, had sentenced your petitioner to lose a +fortnight's pay. Now, the thing that was alleged against your +petitioner was, that he cut a piece of an old hat to put in his shoes, +and emptied three or four cartridges. Now, there was great occasion and +necessity for his so doing, for his shoes were grown so big, by walking +and riding in the wet and dew, that they galled his feet so that he was +not able to go without pain; and his cartridges, being in a bag,--were +worn with continual travel, so that they lost the powder out, so that it +was dangerous to carry them; besides, he did not know how soon he should +be forced to make use of them, therefore he did account it lawful to do +the same; yet, if it be deemed a breach of the Sabhath, he desires to be +humbled before the Lord, and begs the pardon of his people for any +offence done to them thereby. And doth humbly request the favor of your +Honors to consider the premises, and to remit the fine imposed upon him, +and to give order to the committee for the war for the payment of his +wages. So shall he forever pray. . . . " + +11 Aug. 1676.--"The Council sees no cause to grant the petitioner any +relief." + + + +NEWBURY, November 18, 1678. + +Went yesterday to the haunted house with Mr. Russ and Mr. Richardson, +Rebecca and Aunt Rawson being in the company. Found the old couple in +much trouble, sitting by the fire, with the Bible open before them, and +Goody Morse weeping. Mr. Richardson asked Goodman Morse to tell what he +had seen and heard in the house; which he did, to this effect: That +there had been great and strange noises all about the house, a banging +of doors, and a knocking on the boards, and divers other unaccountable +sounds; that he had seen his box of tools turn over of itself, and the +tools fly about the room; baskets dropping down the chimney, and the +pots hanging over the fire smiting against each other; and, moreover, +the irons on the hearth jumping into the pots, and dancing on the table. +Goodwife Morse said that her bread-tray would upset of its own accord, +and the great woollen wheel would contrive to turn itself upside down, +and stand on its end; and that when she and the boy did make the beds, +the blankets would fly off as fast as they put them on, all of which the +boy did confirm. Mr. Russ asked her if she suspected any one of the +mischief; whereupon she said she did believe it was done by the seaman +Powell, a cunning man, who was wont to boast of his knowledge in +astrology and astronomy, having been brought tip under one Norwood, +who is said to have studied the Black Art. He had wickedly accused her +grandson of the mischief, whereas the poor boy had himself suffered +greatly from the Evil Spirit, having been often struck with stones and +bits of boards, which were flung upon him, and kept awake o' nights by +the diabolical noises. Goodman Morse here said that Powell, coming in, +and pretending to pity their lamentable case, told them that if they +would let him have the boy for a day or two, they should be free of the +trouble while he was with him; and that the boy going with him, they had +no disturbance in that time; which plainly showed that this Powell had +the wicked spirits in his keeping, and could chain them up, or let them +out, as he pleased. + +Now, while she was speaking, we did all hear a great thumping on the +ceiling, and presently a piece of a board flew across the room against +the chair on which Mr. Richardson was sitting; whereat the two old +people set up a dismal groaning, and the boy cried out, "That's the +witch!" Goodman Morse begged of Mr. Richardson to fall to praying, +which he presently did; and, when he had done, he asked Mr. Russ to +follow him, who sat silent and musing a little while, and then prayed +that the worker of the disturbance, whether diabolical or human, might +be discovered and brought to light. After which there was no noise +while we staid. Mr. Russ talked awhile with the boy, who did stoutly +deny what Caleb Powell charged upon him, and showed a bruise which he +got from a stick thrown at him in the cow-house. When we went away, +Mr. Richardson asked Mr. Russ what he thought of it. Mr. Russ said, +the matter had indeed a strange look, but that it might be, +nevertheless, the work of the boy, who was a cunning young rogue, and +capable beyond his years. Mr. Richardson said he hoped his brother was +not about to countenance the scoffers and Sadducees, who had all along +tried to throw doubt upon the matter. For himself, he did look upon it +as the work of invisible demons, and an awful proof of the existence of +such, and of the deplorable condition of all who fall into their bands; +moreover, he did believe that God would overrule this malice of the +Devil for good, and make it a means of awakening sinners and lukewarm +church-members to a sense of their danger. + +Last night, brother Leonard, who is studying with the learned Mr. Ward, +the minister at Haverbill, came down, in the company of the worshipful +Major Saltonstall, who hath business with Esquire Dummer and other +magistrates of this place. Mr. Saltonstall's lady, who is the daughter +of Mr. Ward, sent by her husband and my brother a very kind and pressing +invitation to Rebecca and myself to make a visit to her; and Mr. +Saltonstall did also urge the matter strongly. So we have agreed to go +with them the day after to-morrow. Now, to say the truth, I am not +sorry to leave Newbury at this time, for there is so much talk of the +bewitched house, and such dismal stories told of the power of invisible +demons, added to what I did myself hear and see yesterday, that I can +scarce sleep for the trouble and disquiet this matter causeth. Dr. +Russ, who left this morning, said, in his opinion, the less that was +said and done about the witchcraft the better for the honor of the +Church and the peace of the neighborhood; for it might, after all, turn +out to be nothing more than an "old wife's fable;" but if it were indeed +the work of Satan, it could, he did believe, do no harm to sincere and +godly people, who lived sober and prayerful lives, and kept themselves +busy in doing good. The doers of the Word seldom fell into the snare of +the Devil's enchantments. He might be compared to a wild beast, who +dareth not to meddle with the traveller who goeth straightway on his +errand, but lieth in wait for such as loiter and fall asleep by the +wayside. He feared, he said, that some in our day were trying to get a +great character to themselves, as the old monks did, by their skill in +discerning witcherafts, and their pretended conflicts with the Devil in +his bodily shape; and thus, while they were seeking to drive the enemy +out of their neighbors' houses, they were letting him into their own +hearts, in the guise of deceit and spiritual pride. Repentance and +works meet for it were the best exorcism; and the savor of a good life +driveth off Evil Spirits, even as that of the fish of Tobit, at +Ecbatana, drove the Devil from the chamber of the bride into the +uttermost parts of Egypt. "For mine own part," continued the worthy +man, "I believe the Lord and Master, whom I seek to serve, is over all +the powers of Satan; therefore do I not heed them, being afraid only of +mine own accusing conscience and the displeasure of God." + +We are all loath to lose the good Doctor's company. An Israelite +indeed! My aunt, who once tarried for a little time with him for the +benefit of his skill in physic, on account of sickness, tells me that +he is as a father to the people about him, advising them in all their +temporal concerns, and bringing to a timely and wise settlement all +their disputes, so that there is nowhere a more prosperous and loving +society. Although accounted a learned man, he doth not perplex his +hearers, as the manner of some is, with dark and difficult questions, +and points of doctrine, but insisteth mainly on holiness of life and +conversation. It is said that on one occasion, a famous schoolman and +disputer from abroad, coming to talk with him on the matter of the +damnation of infants, did meet him with a cradle on his shoulder, which +he was carrying to a young mother in his neighborhood, and when the man +told him his errand,--the good Doctor bade him wait until he got back, +"for," said he, "I hold it to be vastly more important to take care of +the bodies of the little infants which God in his love sends among us, +than to seek to pry into the mysteries of His will concerning their +souls." He hath no salary or tithe, save the use of a house and farm, +choosing rather to labor with his own hands than to burden his +neighbors; yet, such is their love and good-will, that in the busy +seasons of the hay and corn harvest, they all join together and help him +in his fields, counting it a special privilege to do so. + + + +November 19. + +Leonard and Mr. Richardson, talking upon the matter of the ministry, +disagreed not a little. Mr. Richardson says my brother hath got into +his head many unscriptural notions, and that he will never be of service +in the Church until he casts them off. He saith, moreover, that he +shall write to Mr. Ward concerning the errors of the young man. His +words troubling me, I straightway discoursed my brother as to the points +of difference between them; but he, smiling, said it was a long story, +but that some time he would tell me the substance of the disagreement, +bidding me have no fear in his behalf, as what had displeasured Mr. +Richardson had arisen only from tenderness of conscience. + + + +HAVERHILL, November 22. + +Left Newbury day before yesterday. The day cold, but sunshiny, and not +unpleasant. Mr. Saltonstall's business calling him that way, we crossed +over the ferry to Salisbury, and after a ride of about an hour, got to +the Falls of the Powow River, where a great stream of water rushes +violently down the rocks, into a dark wooded valley, and from thence +runs into the Merrimac, about a mile to the southeast. A wild sight it +was, the water swollen by the rains of the season, foaming and dashing +among the rocks and the trees, which latter were wellnigh stripped of +their leaves. Leaving this place, we went on towards Haverhill. Just +before we entered that town, we overtook an Indian, with a fresh wolf's +skin hanging over his shoulder. As soon as he saw us, he tried to hide +himself in the bushes; but Mr. Saltonstall, riding up to him, asked him +if he did expect Haverhill folks to pay him forty shillings for killing +that Amesbury wolf? "How you know Amesbury wolf?" asked the Indian. +"Oh," said Mr. Saltonstall, "you can't cheat us again, Simon. You must +be honest, and tell no more lies, or we will have you whipped for your +tricks." The Indian thereupon looked sullen enough, but at length he +begged Mr. Saltonstall not to tell where the wolf was killed, as the +Amesbury folks did now refuse to pay for any killed in their town; and, +as he was a poor Indian, and his squaw much sick, and could do no work, +he did need the money. Mr. Saltonstall told him he would send his wife +some cornmeal and bacon, when he got home, if he would come for them, +which he promised to do. + +When we had ridden off, and left him, Mr. Saltonstall told us that this +Simon was a bad Indian, who, when in drink, was apt to be saucy and +quarrelsome; but that his wife was quite a decent body for a savage, +having long maintained herself and children and her lazy, cross husband, +by hard labor in the cornfields and at the fisheries. + +Haverhill lieth very pleasantly on the river-side; the land about hilly +and broken, but of good quality. Mr. Saltonstall liveth in a stately +house for these parts, not far from that of his father-in-law, the +learned Mr. Ward. Madam, his wife, is a fair, pleasing young woman, +not unused to society, their house being frequented by many of the first +people hereabout, as well as by strangers of distinction from other +parts of the country. We had hardly got well through our dinner (which +was abundant and savory, being greatly relished by our hunger), when two +gentlemen came riding up to the door; and on their coming in, we found +them to be the young Doctor Clark, of Boston, a son of the old Newbury +physician, and a Doctor Benjamin Thompson, of Roxbury, who I hear is not +a little famous for his ingenious poetry and witty pieces on many +subjects. He was, moreover, an admirer of my cousin Rebecca; and on +learning of her betrothal to Sir Thomas did write a most despairing +verse to her, comparing himself to all manner of lonesome things, so +that when Rebecca showed it to me, I told her I did fear the poor young +gentleman would put an end to himself, by reason of his great sorrow and +disquiet; whereat she laughed merrily, bidding me not fear, for she knew +the writer too well to be troubled thereat, for he loved nobody so well +as himself, and that under no provocation would he need the Apostle's +advice to the jailer, "Do thyself no harm." All which I found to be +true,--he being a gay, witty man, full of a fine conceit of himself, +which is not so much to be marvelled at, as he hath been greatly +flattered and sought after. + +The excellent Mr. Ward spent the evening with us; a pleasant, social old +man, much beloved by his people. He told us a great deal about the +early settlement of the town, and of the grievous hardships which many +did undergo the first season, from cold, and hunger, and sickness. He +thought, however, that, with all their ease and worldly prosperity, the +present generation were less happy and contented than their fathers; for +there was now a great striving to outdo each other in luxury and gay +apparel; the Lord's day was not so well kept as formerly; and the +drinking of spirits and frequenting of ordinaries and places of public +resort vastly increased. Mr. Saltonstall said the war did not a little +demoralize the people, and that since the soldiers cause back, there had +been much trouble in Church and State. The General Court, two years +ago, had made severe laws against the provoking evils of the times: +profaneness, Sabbath-breaking, drinking, and revelling to excess, loose +and sinful conduct on the part of the young and unmarried, pride in +dress, attending Quakers' meetings, and neglect of attendance upon +divine worship; but these laws had never been well enforced; and he +feared too many of the magistrates were in the condition of the Dutch +Justice in the New York Province, who, when a woman was brought before +him charged with robbing a henroost, did request his brother on the +bench to pass sentence upon her; for, said he, if I send her to the +whipping post, the wench will cry out against me as her accomplice. + +Doctor Clark said his friend Doctor Thompson had written a long piece on +this untoward state of our affairs, which he hoped soon to see in print, +inasmuch as it did hold the looking-glass to the face of this +generation, and shame it by a comparison with that of the generation +which has passed. Mr. Ward said he was glad to hear of it, and hoped +his ingenious friend had brought the manuscript with him; whereupon, the +young gentleman said he did take it along with him, in the hope to +benefit it by Mr. Ward's judgment and learning, and with the leave of +the company he would read the Prologue thereof. To which we all +agreeing, he read what follows, which I copy from his book:-- + + + "The times wherein old PUMPKIN was a saint, + When men fared hardly, yet without complaint, + On vilest cates; the dainty Indian maize + Was eat with clam-shells out of wooden trays, + Under thatched roofs, without the cry of rent, + And the best sauce to every dish, content,-- + These golden times (too fortunate to hold) + Were quickly sinned away for love of gold. + 'T was then among the bushes, not the street, + If one in place did an inferior meet, + 'Good morrow, brother! Is there aught you want? + Take freely of me what I have, you ha'n't.' + Plain Tom and Dick would pass as current now, + As ever since 'Your servant, sir,' and bow. + Deep-skirted doublets, puritanic capes, + Which now would render men like upright apes, + Was comelier wear, our wise old fathers thought, + Than the cast fashions from all Europe brought. + 'T was in those days an honest grace would hold + Till an hot pudding grew at heart a-cold, + And men had better stomachs for religion, + Than now for capon, turkey-cock, or pigeon; + When honest sisters met to pray, not prate, + About their own and not their neighbors' state, + During Plain Dealing's reign, that worthy stud + Of the ancient planter-race before the Flood. + + "These times were good: merchants cared not a rush + For other fare than jonakin and mush. + And though men fared and lodged very hard, + Yet innocence was better than a guard. + 'T was long before spiders and worms had drawn + Their dingy webs, or hid with cheating lawn + New England's beauties, which still seemed to me + Illustrious in their own simplicity. + 'T was ere the neighboring Virgin Land had broke + The hogsheads of her worse than hellish smoke; + 'T was ere the Islands sent their presents in, + Which but to use was counted next to sin; + 'T was ere a barge had made so rich a freight + As chocolate, dust-gold, and bits of eight; + Ere wines from France and Muscovado too, + Without the which the drink will scarcely do. + From Western Isles, ere fruits and delicacies + Did rot maids' teeth and spoil their handsome faces, + Or ere these times did chance the noise of war + Was from our tines and hearts removed far, + Then had the churches rest: as yet, the coals + Were covered up in most contentious souls; + Freeness in judgment, union in affection, + Dear love, sound truth, they were our grand protection. + Then were the times in which our Councils sat, + These grave prognostics of our future state; + If these be longer lived, our hopes increase, + These wars will usher in a longer peace; + But if New England's love die in its youth, + The grave will open next for blessed truth. + + "This theme is out of date; the peaceful hours + When castles needed not, but pleasant bowers, + Not ink, but blood and tears now serve the turn + To draw the figure of New England's urn. + New England's hour of passion is at hand, + No power except Divine can it withstand. + Scarce hath her glass of fifty years run out, + Than her old prosperous steeds turn heads about; + Tracking themselves back to their poor beginnings, + To fear and fare upon the fruits of sinnings. + So that this mirror of the Christian world + Lies burnt to heaps in part, her streamers furled. + Grief sighs, joys flee, and dismal fears surprise, + Not dastard spirits only, but the wise. + + "Thus have the fairest hopes deceived the eye + Of the big-swoln expectants standing by + So the proud ship, after a little turn, + Sinks in the ocean's arms to find its urn: + Thus hath the heir to many thousands born + Been in an instant from the mother torn; + Even thus thy infant cheek begins to pale, + And thy supporters through great losses fail. + This is the Prologue to thy future woe-- + The Epilogue no mortal yet can know." + +Mr. Ward was much pleased with the verses, saying that they would do +honor to any writer. + +Rebecca thought the lines concerning the long grace at meat happy, and +said she was minded of the wife of the good Mr. Ames, who prided herself +on her skill in housewifery and cookery; and on one occasion, seeing a +nice pair of roasted fowls growing cold under her husband's long grace, +was fain to jog his elbow, telling him that if he did not stop soon, she +feared they would have small occasion for thankfulness for their spoiled +dinner. Mr. Ward said he was once travelling in company with Mr. +Phillips of Rowley, and Mr. Parker of Newbury, and stopping all night at +a poor house near the sea-shore, the woman thereof brought into the room +for their supper a great wooden tray, full of something nicely covered +up by a clean linen cloth. It proved to be a dish of boiled clams, in +their shells; and as Mr. Phillips was remarkable in his thanks for aptly +citing passages of Scripture with regard to whatsoever food was upon the +table before him, Mr. Parker and himself did greatly wonder what he +could say of this dish; but he, nothing put to it, offered thanks that +now, as formerly, the Lord's people were enabled to partake of the +abundance of the seas, and treasures hid in the sands. "Whereat," said +Mr. Ward, "we did find it so hard to keep grave countenances, that our +good hostess was not a little disturbed, thinking we were mocking her +poor fare; and we were fain to tell her the cause of our mirth, which +was indeed ill-timed." + +Doctor Clark spake of Mr. Ward's father, the renowned minister at +Ipswich, whose book of "The Simple Cobbler of Agawam," was much admired. +Mr. Ward said that some of the witty turns therein did give much offence +at the time of its printing, but that his father could never spoil his +joke for the sake of friends, albeit he had no malice towards any one, +and was always ready to do a good, even to his enemies. He once even +greatly angered his old and true friend, Mr. Cotton of Boston. "It fell +out in this wise," said Mr. Ward. "When the arch-heretic and fanatic +Gorton and his crew were in prison in Boston, my father and Mr. Cotton +went to the jail window to see them; and after some little discourse +with them, he told Gorton that if he had done or said anything which he +could with a clear conscience renounce, he would do well to recant the +same, and the Court, he doubted not, would be merciful; adding, that it +would be no disparagement for him to do so, as the best of men were +liable to err: as, for instance, his brother Cotton here generally did +preach that one year which he publicly repented of before his +congregation the next year." + +Mr. Saltonstall told another story of old Mr. Ward, which made us all +merry. There was a noted Antinomian, of Boston, who used to go much +about the country disputing with all who would listen to him, who, +coming to Ipswich one night, with another of his sort with him, would +fain have tarried with Mr. Ward; but he told them that he had scarce hay +and grain enough in his barn for the use of his own cattle, and that +they would do well to take their horses to the ordinary, where they +would be better cared for. But the fellow, not wishing to be so put +off, bade him consider what the Scripture said touching the keeping of +strangers, as some had thereby entertained angels unawares. "True, +my friend," said Mr. Ward, "but we don't read that the angels came +a-horseback!" + +The evening passed away in a very pleasant and agreeable manner. We had +rare nuts, and apples, and pears, of Mr. Saltonstall's raising, +wonderfully sweet and luscious. Our young gentlemen, moreover, seemed +to think the wine and ale of good quality; for, long after we had gone +to our beds, we could hear them talking and laughing in the great hall +below, notwithstanding that Mr. Ward, when he took leave, bade Doctor +Thompson take heed to his own hint concerning the: + + "Wines from France and Muscovado too;" + +to which the young wit replied, that there was Scripture warrant for his +drinking, inasmuch as the command was, to give wine to those that be of +heavy heart. Let him drink, and forget his poverty, and remember his +misery no more; and, for his part, he had been little better than +miserable ever since he heard of Rebecca's betrothal. A light, careless +man, but of good parts, and as brave a talker as I have heard since I +have been in the Colony. + + + +November 24. + +Mr. Ward's negro girl Dinah came for me yesterday, saying that her +master did desire to see me. So, marvelling greatly what he wanted, +I went with her, and was shown into the study. Mr. Ward said he had +sent for me to have some discourse in regard to my brother Leonard, who +he did greatly fear was likely to make shipwreck of the faith; and that +Mr. Richardson had written him concerning the young man, telling him +that he did visit the Quakers when at Newbury, and even went over to +their conventicle at Hampton, on the Lord's day, in the company of the +Brewster family, noted Quakers and ranters. He had the last evening had +some words with the lad, but with small satisfaction. Being sorely +troubled by this account, I begged him to send for Leonard, which he +did, and, when he did come into the room, Mr. Ward told him that he +might see by the plight of his sister (for I was in tears) what a great +grief he was like to bring upon his family and friends, by running out +into heresies. Leonard said he was sorry to give trouble to any one, +least of all to his beloved sister; that he did indeed go to the +Quakers' meeting, on one occasion, to judge for himself concerning this +people, who are everywhere spoken against; and that he must say he did +hear or see nothing in their worship contrary to the Gospel. There was, +indeed, but little said, but the words were savory and Scriptural. "But +they deny the Scriptures," cried Mr. Ward, "and set above them what they +call the Light, which I take to be nothing better than their own +imaginations." "I do not so understand them," said Leonard; "I think +they do diligently study the Scripture, and seek to conform their lives +to its teachings; and for the Light of which they speak, it is borne-- +witness to not only in the Bible, but by the early fathers and devout +men of all ages. I do not go to excuse the Quakers in all that they +have done, nor to defend all their doctrines and practices, many of +which I see no warrant in Scripture for, but believe to be pernicious +and contrary to good order; yet I must need look upon them as a sober, +earnest-seeking people, who do verily think themselves persecuted for +righteousness' sake." Hereupon Mr. Ward struck his cane smartly on the +floor, and, looking severely at my brother, bade him beware how he did +justify these canting and false pretenders. "They are," he said, +"either sad knaves, or silly enthusiasts,--they pretend to Divine +Revelation, and set up as prophets; like the Rosicrucians and Gnostics, +they profess to a knowledge of things beyond what plain Scripture +reveals. The best that can be said of them is, that they are befooled +by their own fancies, and the victims of distempered brains and ill +habits of body. Then their ranting against the Gospel order of the +Church, and against the ministers of Christ, calling us all manner of +hirelings, wolves, and hypocrites; belching out their blasphemies +against the ordinances and the wholesome laws of the land for the +support of a sound ministry and faith, do altogether justify the sharp +treatment they have met with; so that, if they have not all lost their +ears, they may thank our clemency rather than their own worthiness to +wear them. I do not judge of them ignorantly, for I have dipped into +their books, where, what is not downright blasphemy and heresy, is +mystical and cabalistic. They affect a cloudy and canting style, as if +to keep themselves from being confuted by keeping themselves from being +understood. Their divinity is a riddle, a piece of black art; the +Scripture they turn into allegory and parabolical conceits, and thus +obscure and debauch the truth. Argue with them, and they fall to +divining; reason with them, and they straightway prophesy. Then their +silent meetings, so called, in the which they do pretend to justify +themselves by quoting Revelation, 'There was silence in heaven;' whereas +they might find other authorities,--as, for instance in Psalm 115, where +hell is expressed by silence, and in the Gospel, where we read of a dumb +devil. As to persecuting these people, we have been quite too +charitable to them, especially of late, and they are getting bolder in +consequence; as, for example, the behavior of that shameless young wench +in Newbury, who disturbed Brother Richardson's church with her antics +not long ago. She should have been tied to the cart-tail and whipped +all the way to Rhode Island." + +"Do you speak of Margaret Brewster?" asked Leonard, his face all +a-crimson, and his lip quivering. "Let me tell you, Mr. Ward, that you +greatly wrong one of Christ's little ones." And he called me to testify +to her goodness and charity, and the blamelessness of her life. + +"Don't talk to me of the blameless life of such an one," said Mr. Ward, +in aloud, angry tone; "it is the Devil's varnish for heresy. The +Manichees, and the Pelagians, and Socinians, all did profess great +strictness and sanctity of life; and there never was heretic yet, from +they whom the Apostle makes mention of, who fasted from meats, giving +heed to seducing spirits and doctrines of devils, down to the Quakers, +Dippers, and New Lights of this generation who have not, like their +fathers of old, put on the shape of Angels of Light, and lived severe +and over-strict lives. I grant that the Quakers are honest in their +dealings, making great show of sobriety and self-denial, and abhor the +practice of scandalous vices, being temperate, chaste, and grave in +their behavior, and thereby they win upon unstable souls, and make +plausible their damnable heresies. I warn you, young man, to take heed +of them, lest you be ensnared and drawn into their way." + +My brother was about to reply, but, seeing Mr. Ward so moved and vexed, +I begged of him to say no more; and, company coming in, the matter was +dropped, to my great joy. I went back much troubled and disquieted for +my brother's sake. + + + +November 28, 1678. + +Leonard hath left Mr. Ward, and given up the thought of fitting for the +ministry. This will be a heavy blow for his friends in England. He +tells me that Mr. Ward spake angrily to him after I left, but that, when +he come to part with him, the old man wept over him, and prayed that the +Lord would enable him to see his error, and preserve him from the +consequences thereof. I have discoursed with my brother touching his +future course of life, and he tells me he shall start in a day or two to +visit the Rhode Island, where he hath an acquaintance, one Mr. Easton, +formerly of Newbury. His design is to purchase a small plantation +there, and betake himself to fanning, of the which he hath some little +knowledge, believing that he can be as happy and do as much good to his +fellow-creatures in that employment as in any other. + +Here Cousin Rebecca, who was by, looking up with that sweet archness +which doth so well become her, queried with him whether he did think to +live alone on his plantation like a hermit, or whether he had not his +eye upon a certain fair-haired young woman, as suitable to keep him +company. Whereat he seemed a little disturbed; but she bade him not +think her against his prospect, for she had known for some weeks that he +did favor the Young Brewster woman, who, setting aside her enthusiastic +notions of religion, was worthy of any man's love; and turning to me, +she begged of me to look at the matter as she did, and not set myself +against the choice of my brother, which, in all respects save the one +she had spoken of, she could approve with all her heart. Leonard goes +back with us o-morrow to Newbury, so I shall have a chance of knowing +how matters stand with him. The thought of his marrying a Quaker would +have been exceedingly grievous to me a few months ago; but this Margaret +Brewster hath greatly won upon me by her beauty, gentleness, and her +goodness of heart; and, besides, I know that she is much esteemed by the +best sort of people in her neighborhood. + +Doctor Thompson left this morning, but his friend Doctor Clark goes with +us to Newbury. Rebecca found in her work-basket, after he had gone, +some verses, which amused us not a little, and which I here copy. + + "Gone hath the Spring, with all its flowers, + And gone the Summer's pomp and show + And Autumn in his leafless bowers + Is waiting for the Winter's snow. + + "I said to Earth, so cold and gray, + 'An emblem of myself thou art:' + 'Not so,' the earth did seem to say, + 'For Spring shall warm my frozen heart. + + "'I soothe my wintry sleep with dreams + Of warmer sun and softer rain, + And wait to hear the sound of streams + And songs of merry birds again. + + "'But thou, from whom the Spring hath gone, + For whom the flowers no longer blow, + Who standest, blighted and forlorn, + Like Autumn waiting for the snow. + + "'No hope is thine of sunnier hours, + Thy winter shall no more depart; + No Spring revive thy wasted flowers, + Nor Summer warm thy frozen heart.'" + +Doctor Clark, on hearing this read, told Rebecca she need not take its +melancholy to heart, for he could assure her that there was no danger of +his friend's acting on her account the sad part of the lover in the old +song of Barbara Allen. As a medical man, he could safely warrant him to +be heart-whole; and the company could bear him witness, that the poet +himself seemed very little like the despairing one depicted in his +verses. + +The Indian Simon calling this forenoon, Rebecca and I went into the +kitchen to see him. He looks fierce and cruel, but he thanked Madain +Saltonstall for her gifts of food and clothing, and, giving her in +return a little basket wrought of curiously stained stuff, he told her +that if there were more like her, his heart would not be so bitter. + +I ventured to ask him why he felt thus; whereupon he drew himself up, +and, sweeping about him with his arms, said: "This all Indian land. The +Great Spirit made it for Indians. He made the great river for them, and +birch-trees to make their canoes of. All the fish in the ponds, and all +the pigeons and deer and squirrels he made for Indians. He made land +for white men too; but they left it, and took Indian's land, because it +was better. My father was a chief; he had plenty meat and corn in his +wigwam. But Simon is a dog. When they fight Eastern Indians, I try to +live in peace; but they say, Simon, you rogue, you no go into woods to +hunt; you keep at home. So when squaw like to starve, I shoot one of +their hogs, and then they whip me. Look!" And he lifted the blanket +off from his shoulder, and showed the marks of the whip thereon. + +"Well, well, Simon," said Mr. Saltonstall, "you do know that our people +then were much frightened by what the Indians had done in other places, +and they feared you would join them. But it is all over now, and you +have all the woods to yourself to range in; and if you would let alone +strong drink, you would do well." + +"Who makes strong drink?" asked the Indian, with an ugly look. "Who +takes the Indian's beaver-skins and corn for it? Tell me that, +Captain." + +So saying, he put his pack on his back, and calling a poor, lean dog, +that was poking his hungry nose into Madam's pots and kettles, he went +off talking to himself. + + + +NEWBURY, December 6. + +We got back from Haverhill last night, Doctor Clark accompanying us, +he having business in Newbury. When we came up to the door, Effie met +us with a shy look, and told her mistress that Mrs. Prudence (uncle's +spinster cousin) had got a braw auld wooer in the east room; and surely +enough we found our ancient kinswoman and Deacon Dole, a widower of +three years' standing, sitting at the supper-table. We did take note +that the Deacon had on a stiff new coat; and as for Aunt Prudence (for +so she was called in the family), she was clad in her bravest, with a +fine cap on her head. They both did seem a little disturbed by our +coming, but plates being laid for us, we sat down with them. After +supper, Rebecca had a fire kindled in uncle's room, whither we did +betake ourselves; and being very merry at the thought of Deacon Dole's +visit, it chanced to enter our silly heads that it would do no harm to +stop the clock in the entry a while, and let the two old folks make a +long evening of it. After a time Rebecca made an errand into the east +room, to see how matters went, and coming back, said the twain were +sitting on the same settle by the fire, smoking--a pipe of tobacco +together. Moreover, our foolish trick did work well, for Aunt Prudence +coming at last into the entry to look at the clock, we heard her tell +the Deacon that it was only a little past eight, when in truth it was +near ten. Not long after there was a loud knocking at the door, and as +Effie had gone to bed, Rebecca did open it, when, whom did she see but +the Widow Hepsy Barnet, Deacon Dole's housekeeper, and with her the +Deacon's son, Moses, and the minister, Mr. Richardson, with a lantern in +his hand! "Dear me," says the woman, looking very dismal, "have you +seen anything of the Deacon?" By this time we were all at the door, the +Deacon and Aunt Prudence among the rest, when Moses, like a great lout +as he is, pulled off his woollen cap and tossed it up in the air, crying +out, "There, Goody Barnet, did n't I tell ye so! There's father now!" +And the widow, holding up both her hands, said she never did in all her +born days see the like of this, a man of the Deacon's years and station +stealing away without letting folks know where to look for him; and then +turning upon poor Mrs. Prudence, she said she had long known that some +folks were sly and artful, and she was glad Mr. Richardson was here to +see for himself. Whereupon Aunt Prudence, in much amazement, said, it +was scarce past eight, as they might see by the clock; but Mr. +Richardson, who could scarce keep a grave face, pulling out his watch, +said it was past ten, and bade her note that the clock was stopped. He +told Deacon Dole, that seeing Goody Barnet so troubled about him, he had +offered to go along with her a little way, and that he was glad to find +that the fault was in the clock. The Deacon, who had stood like one in +a maze, here clapped on his hat, and snatched up his cane and went off, +looking as guilty as if he had been caught a-housebreaking, the widow +scolding him all the way. Now, as we could scarce refrain from +laughing, Mr. Richardson, who tarried a moment, shook his head at +Rebecca, telling her he feared by her looks she was a naughty girl, +taking pleasure in other folk's trouble. We did both feel ashamed and +sorry enough for our mischief, after it was all over; and poor Mistress +Prudence is so sorely mortified, that she told Rebecca this morning not +to mention Deacon Dole's name to her again, and that Widow Hepsy is +welcome to him, since he is so mean-spirited as to let her rule him +as she doth. + + + +December 8. + +Yesterday I did, at my brother's wish, go with him to Goodman Brewster's +house, where I was kindly welcomed by the young woman and her parents. +After some little tarry, I found means to speak privily with her +touching my brother's regard for her, and to assure her that I did truly +and freely consent thereunto; while I did hope, for his sake as well as +her own, that she would, as far as might be consistent with her notion +of duty, forbear to do or say anything which might bring her into +trouble with the magistrates and those in authority. She said that she +was very grateful for my kindness towards her, and that what I said was +a great relief to her mind; for when she first met my brother, she did +fear that his kindness and sympathy would prove a snare to her; and that +she had been sorely troubled, moreover, lest by encouraging him she +should not only do violence to her own conscience, but also bring +trouble and disgrace upon one who was, she did confess, dear unto her, +not only as respects outward things, but by reason of what she did +discern of an innocent and pure inward life in his conversation and +deportment. She had earnestly sought to conform her conduct in this, +as in all things, to the mind of her Divine Master; and, as respected my +caution touching those in authority, she knew not what the Lord might +require of her, and she could only leave all in His hands, being +resigned even to deny herself of the sweet solace of human affection, +and to take up the cross daily, if He did so will. "Thy visit and kind +words," she continued, "have removed a great weight from me. The way +seems more open before me. The Lord bless thee for thy kindness." + +She said this with so much tenderness of spirit, and withal with such an +engaging sweetness of look and voice, that I was greatly moved, and, +pressing her in my arms, I kissed her, and bade her look upon me as her +dear sister. + +The family pressing us, we stayed to supper, and sitting down in silence +at the table, I was about to speak to my brother, but he made a sign to +check me, and I held my peace, although not then knowing wherefore. So +we all sat still for a little space of time, which I afterwards found is +the manner of these people at their meat. The supper was plain, but of +exceeding good relish: warm rye loaves with butter and honey, and bowls +of sweet milk, and roasted apples. Goodwife Brewster, who appeared much +above her husband (who is a plain, unlearned man) in her carriage and +discourse, talked with us very pleasantly, and Margaret seemed to grow +more at ease, the longer we stayed. + +On our way back we met Robert Pike, who hath returned from the eastward. +He said Rebecca Rawson had just told him how matters stood with Leonard, +and that he was greatly rejoiced to hear of his prospect. He had known +Margaret Brewster from a child, and there was scarce her equal in these +parts for sweetness of temper and loveliness of person and mind; and, +were she ten times a Quaker, he was free to say this in her behalf. +I am more and more confirmed in the belief that Leonard hath not done +unwisely in this matter, and do cheerfully accept of his choice, +believing it to be in the ordering of Him who doeth all things well. + + + +BOSTON, December 31. + +It wanteth but two hours to the midnight, and the end of the year. The +family are all abed, and I can hear nothing save the crackling of the +fire now burning low on the hearth, and the ticking of the clock in the +corner. The weather being sharp with frost, there is no one stirring in +the streets, and the trees and bushes in the yard, being stripped of +their leaves, look dismal enough above the white snow with which the +ground is covered, so that one would think that all things must needs +die with the year. But, from my window, I can see the stars shining +with marvellous brightness in the clear sky, and the sight thereof doth +assure me that God still watcheth over the work of His hands, and that +in due season He will cause the flowers to appear on the earth, and the +time of singing-birds to come, and-the voice of the turtle to be heard +in the land. And I have been led, while alone here, to think of the +many mercies which have been vouchsafed unto me in my travels and +sojourn in a strange land, and a sense of the wonderful goodness of God +towards me, and they who are dear unto me, both here and elsewhere, hath +filled mine heart with thankfulness; and as of old time they did use to +set up stones of memorial on the banks of deliverance, so would I at +this season set up, as it were, in my poor journal, a like pillar of +thanksgiving to the praise and honor of Him who hath so kindly cared for +His unworthy handmaid. + + + +January 16, 1679. + +Have just got back from Reading, a small town ten or twelve miles out of +Boston, whither I went along with mine Uncle and Aunt Rawson, and many +others, to attend the ordination of Mr. Brock, in the place of the +worthy Mr. Hough, lately deceased. The weather being clear, and the +travelling good, a great concourse of people got together. We stopped +at the ordinary, which we found wellnigh filled; but uncle, by dint of +scolding and coaxing, got a small room for aunt and myself, with a clean +bed, which was more than we had reason to hope for. The ministers, of +whom there were many and of note (Mr. Mather and Mr. Wilson of Boston, +and Mr. Corbet of Ipswich, being among them), were already together at +the house of one of the deacons. It was quite a sight the next morning +to see the people coming in from the neighboring towns, and to note +their odd dresses, which were indeed of all kinds, from silks and +velvets to coarsest homespun woollens, dyed with hemlock, or oil-nut +bark, and fitting so ill that, if they had all cast their clothes into a +heap, and then each snatched up whatsoever coat or gown came to hand, +they could not have suited worse. Yet they were all clean and tidy, and +the young people especially did look exceeding happy, it being with them +a famous holiday. The young men came with their sisters or their +sweethearts riding behind them on pillions; and the ordinary and all the +houses about were soon noisy enough with merry talking and laughter. +The meeting-house was filled long before the services did begin. There +was a goodly show of honorable people in the forward seats, and among +them that venerable magistrate, Simon Broadstreet, who acteth as Deputy- +Governor since the death of Mr. Leverett; the Honorable Thomas Danforth; +Mr. William Brown of Salem; and others of note, whose names I do not +remember, all with their wives and families, bravely apparelled. The +Sermon was preached by Mr. Higginson of Salem, the Charge was given by +Mr. Phillips of Rowley, and the Right Hand of Fellowship by Mr. Corbet +of Ipswich. When we got back to our inn, we found a great crowd of +young roysterers in the yard, who had got Mr. Corbet's negro man, Sam, +on the top of a barrel, with a bit of leather, cut in the shape of +spectacles, astride of his nose, where he stood swinging his arms, and +preaching, after the manner of his master, mimicking his tone and manner +very shrewdly, to the great delight and merriment of the young rogues +who did set him on. We stood in the door a while to hear him, and, to +say the truth, he did wonderfully well, being a fellow of good parts and +much humor. But, just as he was describing the Devil, and telling his +grinning hearers that he was not like a black but a white man, old Mr. +Corbet, who had come up behind him, gave him a smart blow with his cane, +whereupon Sam cried,-- + +"Dare he be now!" at which all fell to laughing. + +"You rascal," said Mr. Corbet, "get down with you; I'll teach you to +compare me to the Devil." + +"Beg pardon, massa!" said Sam, getting down from his pulpit, and rubbing +his shoulder. "How you think Sam know you? He see nothing; he only +feel de lick." + +"You shall feel it again," said his master, striking at him a great +blow, which Sam dodged. + +"Nay, Brother Corbet," said Mr. Phillips, who was with him, "Sam's +mistake was not so strange after all; for if Satan can transform himself +into an Angel of Light, why not into the likeness of such unworthy +ministers as you and I." + +This put the old minister in a good humor, and Sam escaped without +farther punishment than a grave admonition to behave more reverently for +the future. Mr. Phillips, seeing some of his young people in the crowd, +did sharply rebuke them for their folly, at which they were not a little +abashed. + +The inn being greatly crowded, and not a little noisy, we were not +unwilling to accept the invitation of the provider of the ordination- +dinner, to sit down with the honored guests thereat. I waited, with +others of the younger class, until the ministers and elderly people had +made an end of their meal. Among those who sat at the second table was +a pert, talkative lad, a son of Mr. Increase Mather, who, although but +sixteen years of age, graduated at the Harvard College last year, and +hath the reputation of good scholarship and lively wit. He told some +rare stories concerning Mr. Brock, the minister ordained, and of the +marvellous efficacy of his prayers. He mentioned, among other things, +that, when Mr. Brock lived on the Isles of Shoals, he persuaded the +people there to agree to spend one day in a month, beside the Sabhath, +in religious worship. Now, it so chanced that there was on one occasion +a long season of stormy, rough weather, unsuitable for fishing; and when +the day came which had been set apart, it proved so exceeding fair, that +his congregation did desire him to put off the meeting, that they might +fish. Mr. Brock tried in vain to reason with them, and show the duty of +seeking first the kingdom of God, when all other things should be added +thereto, but the major part determined to leave the meeting. Thereupon +he cried out after them: "As for you who will neglect God's worship, go, +and catch fish if you can." There were thirty men who thus left, and +only five remained behind, and to these he said: "I will pray the Lord +for you, that you may catch fish till you are weary." And it so fell +out, that the thirty toiled all day, and caught only four fishes; while +the five who stayed at meeting went out, after the worship was over, and +caught five hundred; and ever afterwards the fishermen attended all the +meetings of the minister's appointing. At another time, a poor man, who +had made himself useful in carrying people to meeting in his boat, lost +the same in a storm, and came lamenting his loss to Mr. Brock. "Go +home, honest man," said the minister. "I will mention your case to the +Lord: you will have your boat again to-morrow." And surely enough, the +very next day, a vessel pulling up its anchor near where the boat sank, +drew up the poor man's boat, safe and whole, after it. + +We went back to Boston after dinner, but it was somewhat of a cold ride, +especially after the night set in, a keen northerly wind blowing in +great gusts, which did wellnigh benumb us. A little way from Reading, +we overtook an old couple in the road; the man had fallen off his horse, +and his wife was trying to get him up again to no purpose; so young Mr. +Richards, who was with us, helped him up to the saddle again, telling +his wife to hold him carefully, as her old man had drank too much flip. +Thereupon the good wife set upon him with a vile tongue, telling him +that her old man was none other than Deacon Rogers of Wenham, and as +good and as pious a saint as there was out of heaven; and it did ill +become a young, saucy rake and knave to accuse him of drunkenness, and +it would be no more than his deserts if the bears did eat him before he +got to Boston. As it was quite clear that the woman herself had had a +taste of the mug, we left them and rode on, she fairly scolding us out +of hearing. When we got home, we found Cousin Rebecca, whom we did +leave ill with a cold, much better in health, sitting up and awaiting +us. + + + +January 21, 1679. + +Uncle Rawson came home to-day in a great passion, and, calling me to +him, he asked me if I too was going to turn Quaker, and fall to +prophesying? Whereat I was not a little amazed; and when I asked him +what he did mean, he said: "Your brother Leonard hath gone off to them, +and I dare say you will follow, if one of the ranters should take it +into his head that you would make him a proper wife, or company-keeper, +for there's never an honest marriage among them." Then looking sternly +at me, he asked me why I did keep this matter from him, and thus allow +the foolish young man to get entangled in the snares of Satan. Whereat +I was so greatly grieved, that I could answer never a word. + +"You may well weep," said my uncle, "for you have done wickedly. As to +your brother, he will do well to keep where he is in the plantations; +for if he come hither a theeing and thouing of me, I will spare him +never a whit; and if I do not chastise him myself, it will be because +the constable can do it better at the cart-tail. As the Lord lives, I +had rather he had turned Turk!" + +I tried to say a word for my brother, but he cut me straightway short, +bidding me not to mention his name again in his presence. Poor me! I +have none here now to whom I can speak freely, Rebecca having gone to +her sister's at Weymouth. My young cousin Grindall is below, with his +college friend, Cotton Mather; but I care not to listen to their +discourse, and aunt is busied with her servants in the kitchen, so that +I must even sit alone with my thoughts, which be indeed but sad company. + +The little book which I brought with me from the Maine, it being the +gift of young Mr. Jordan, and which I have kept close hidden in my +trunk, hath been no small consolation to me this day, for it aboundeth +in sweet and goodly thoughts, although he who did write it was a monk. +Especially in my low state, have these words been a comfort to me:-- + +"What thou canst not amend in thyself or others, bear thou with patience +until God ordaineth otherwise. When comfort is taken away, do not +presently despair. Stand with an even mind resigned to the will of God, +whatever shall befall, because after winter cometh the summer; after the +dark night the day shineth, and after the storm followeth a great calm. +Seek not for consolation which shall rob thee of the grace of penitence; +for all that is high is not holy, nor all that is pleasant good; nor +every desire pure; nor is what is pleasing to us always pleasant in the +sight of God." + + + +January 23. + +The weather is bitter cold, and a great snow on the ground. By a letter +from Newbury, brought me by Mr. Sewall, who hath just returned from that +place, I hear that Goodwife Morse hath been bound for trial as a witch. +Mr. Sewall tells me the woman is now in the Boston jail. As to Caleb +Powell, he hath been set at liberty, there being no proof of his evil +practice. Yet inasmuch as he did give grounds of suspicion by boasting +of his skill in astrology and astronomy, the Court declared that he +justly deserves to bear his own shame and the costs of his prosecution +and lodging in jail. + +Mr. Sewall tells me that Deacon Dole has just married his housekeeper, +Widow Barnet, and that Moses says he never knew before his father to get +the worst in a bargain. + + + +January 30. + +Robert Pike called this morning, bringing me a letter from my brother, +and one from Margaret Brewster. He hath been to the Providence +Plantations and Rhode Island, and reporteth well of the prospects of my +brother, who hath a goodly farm, and a house nigh upon finished, the +neighbors, being mostly Quakers, assisting him much therein. My +brother's letter doth confirm this account of his temporal condition, +although a great part of it is taken up with a defence of his new +doctrines, for the which he doth ingeniously bring to mind many passages +of Scripture. Margaret's letter being short, I here copy it:-- + +THE PLANTATIONS, 20th of the 1st mo., 1679. + +"DEAR FRIEND,--I salute thee with much love from this new country, where +the Lord hath spread a table for us in the wilderness. Here is a goodly +company of Friends, who do seek to know the mind of Truth, and to live +thereby, being held in favor and esteem by the rulers of the land, and +so left in peace to worship God according to their consciences. The +whole country being covered with snow, and the weather being extreme +cold, we can scarce say much of the natural gifts and advantages of our +new home; but it lieth on a small river, and there be fertile meadows, +and old corn-fields of the Indians, and good springs of water, so that I +am told it is a desirable and pleasing place in the warm season. My +soul is full of thankfulness, and a sweet inward peace is my portion. +Hard things are made easy to me; this desert place, with its lonely +woods and wintry snows, is beautiful in mine eyes. For here we be no +longer gazing-stocks of the rude multitude, we are no longer haled from +our meetings, and railed upon as witches and possessed people. Oh, how +often have we been called upon heretofore to repeat the prayer of one +formerly: 'Let me not fall into the hands of man.' Sweet, beyond the +power of words to express, hath been the change in this respect; and in +view of the mercies vouchsafed unto us, what can we do but repeat the +language of David, 'Praise is comely yea, a joyful and pleasant thing it +is to be thankful. It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord, to +sing praises unto thy name, O Most High! to show forth thy loving- +kindness in the morning, and thy faithfulness every night.' + +"Thou hast doubtless heard that thy dear brother hath been favored to +see the way of truth, according to our persuasion thereof, and hath been +received into fellowship with us. I fear this hath been a trial to +thee; but, dear heart, leave it in the hands of the Lord, whose work I +do indeed count it. Nor needest thou to fear that thy brother's regard +for thee will be lessened thereby, for the rather shall it be increased +by a measure of that Divine love which, so far from destroying, doth but +purify and strengthen the natural affections. + +"Think, then, kindly of thy brother, for his love towards thee is very +great; and of me, also, unworthy as I am, for his sake. And so, with +salutations of love and peace, in which my dear mother joins, I remain +thy loving friend, MARGARET BREWSTER. + +"The Morse woman, I hear, is in your jail, to be tried for a witch. She +is a poor, weak creature, but I know no harm of her, and do believe her +to be more silly than wicked in the matter of the troubles in her house. +I fear she will suffer much at this cold season in the jail, she being +old and weakly, and must needs entreat thee to inquire into her +condition. + "M. B." + + + +February 10. + +Speaking of Goody Morse to-day, Uncle Rawson says she will, he thinks, +be adjudged a witch, as there be many witnesses from Newbury to testify +against her. Aunt sent the old creature some warm blankets and other +necessaries, which she stood much in need of, and Rebecca and I altered +one of aunt's old gowns for her to wear, as she hath nothing seemly of +her own. Mr. Richardson, her minister, hath visited her twice since she +hath been in jail; but he saith she is hardened in her sin, and will +confess nothing thereof. + + + +February 14. +The famous Mr. John Eliot, having business with my uncle, spent the last +night with us, a truly worthy man, who, by reason of his great labors +among the heathen Indians, may be called the chiefest of our apostles. +He brought with him a young Indian lad, the son of a man of some note +among his people, very bright and comely, and handsomely apparelled +after the fashion of his tribe. This lad hath a ready wit, readeth and +writeth, and hath some understanding of Scripture; indeed, he did repeat +the Lord's Prayer in a manner edifying to hear. + +The worshipful Major Gookins coming in to sup with us, there was much +discourse concerning the affairs of the Province: both the Major and his +friend Eliot being great sticklers for the rights and liberties of the +people, and exceeding jealous of the rule of the home government, and +in this matter my uncle did quite agree with them. In a special manner +Major Gookins did complain of the Acts of Trade, as injurious to the +interests of the Colony, and which he said ought not to be submitted to, +as the laws of England were bounded by the four seas, and did not justly +reach America. He read a letter which he had from Mr. Stoughton, one of +the agents of the Colony in England, showing how they had been put off +from time to time, upon one excuse or another, without being able to get +a hearing; and now the Popish Plot did so occupy all minds there, that +Plantation matters were sadly neglected; but this much was certain, the +laws for the regulating of trade must be consented to by the +Massachusetts, if we would escape a total breach. My uncle struck his +hand hard on the table at this, and said if all were of his mind they +would never heed the breach; adding, that he knew his rights as a free- +born Englishman, under Magna Charta, which did declare it the privilege +of such to have a voice in the making of laws; whereas the Massachusetts +had no voice in Parliament, and laws were thrust upon them by strangers. + +"For mine own part," said Major Gookins, "I do hold our brother Eliot's +book on the Christian Commonwealth, which the General Court did make +haste to condemn on the coming in of the king, to be a sound and +seasonable treatise, notwithstanding the author himself hath in some +sort disowned it." + +"I did truly condemn and deny the false and seditious doctrines charged +upon it," said Mr. Eliot, "but for the book itself, rightly taken, and +making allowance for some little heat of discourse and certain hasty +and ill-considered words therein, I have never seen cause to repent. +I quite agree with what my lamented friend and fellow-laborer, Mr. +Danforth, said, when he was told that the king was to be proclaimed at +Boston: 'Whatever form of government may be deduced from Scripture, that +let us yield to for conscience' sake, not forgetting at the same time +that the Apostle hath said, if thou mayest be free use it rather.'" + +My uncle said this was well spoken of Mr. Danforth, who was a worthy +gentleman and a true friend to the liberties of the Colony; and he asked +Rebecca to read some ingenious verses writ by him in one of his +almanacs, which she had copied not long ago, wherein he compareth New +England to a goodly tree or plant. Whereupon, Rebecca read them as +followeth:-- + + "A skilful husbandman he was, who brought + This matchless plant from far, and here hath sought + A place to set it in; and for its sake + The wilderness a pleasant land doth make. + + "With pleasant aspect, Phoebus smiles upon + The tender buds and blooms that hang thereon; + At this tree's root Astrea sits and sings, + And waters it, whence upright Justice springs, + Which yearly shoots forth laws and liberties + That no man's will or wit may tyrannize. + Those birds of prey that sometime have oppressed + And stained the country with their filthy nest, + Justice abhors, and one day hopes to find + A way, to make all promise-breakers grind. + On this tree's top hangs pleasant Liberty, + Not seen in Austria, France, Spain, Italy. + True Liberty 's there ripe, where all confess + They may do what they will, save wickedness. + Peace is another fruit which this tree bears, + The chiefest garland that the country wears, + Which o'er all house-tops, towns, and fields doth spread, + And stuffs the pillow for each weary head. + It bloomed in Europe once, but now 't is gone, + And glad to find a desert mansion. + Forsaken Truth, Time's daughter, groweth here,-- + More precious fruit what tree did ever bear,-- + Whose pleasant sight aloft hath many fed, + And what falls down knocks Error on the head." + +After a little time, Rebecca found means to draw the good Mr. Eliot into +some account of his labors and journeys among the Indians, and of their +manner of life, ceremonies, and traditions, telling him that I was a +stranger in these parts, and curious concerning such matters. So he did +address himself to me very kindly, answering such questions as I +ventured to put to him. And first, touching the Powahs, of whom I had +heard much, he said they were manifestly witches, and such as had +familiar spirits; but that, since the Gospel has been preached here, +their power had in a great measure gone from them. "My old friend, +Passaconaway, the Chief of the Merrimac River Indians," said he, "was, +before his happy and marvellous conversion, a noted Powah and wizard. +I once queried with him touching his sorceries, when he said he had done +wickedly, and it was a marvel that the Lord spared his life, and did not +strike him dead with his lightnings. And when I did press him to tell +me how he did become a Powah, he said he liked not to speak of it, but +would nevertheless tell me. His grandmother used to tell him many +things concerning the good and bad spirits, and in a special manner of +the Abomako, or Chepian, who had the form of a serpent, and who was the +cause of sickness and pain, and of all manner of evils. And it so +chanced that on one occasion, when hunting in the wilderness, three +days' journey from home, he did lose his way, and wandered for a long +time without food, and night coming on, he thought he did hear voices of +men talking; but, on drawing near to the place whence the noise came, he +could see nothing but the trees and rocks; and then he did see a light, +as from a wigwam a little way off, but, going towards it, it moved away, +and, following it, he was led into a dismal swamp, full of water, and +snakes, and briers; and being in so sad a plight, he bethought him of +all he had heard of evil demons and of Chepian, who, he doubted not was +the cause of his trouble. At last, coming to a little knoll in the +swamp, he lay down under a hemlock-tree, and being sorely tired, fell +asleep. And he dreamed a dream, which was in this wise:-- + +"He thought he beheld a great snake crawl up out of the marsh, and stand +upon his tail under a tall maple-tree; and he thought the snake spake to +him, and bade him be of good cheer, for he would guide him safe out of +the swamp, and make of him a great chief and Powah, if he would pray to +him and own him as his god. All which he did promise to do; and when he +awoke in the morning, he beheld before him the maple-tree under which he +had seen the snake in his dream, and, climbing to the top of it, he saw +a great distance off the smoke of a wigwam, towards which he went, and +found some of his own people cooking a plentiful meal of venison. When +he got back to Patucket, he told his dream to his grandmother, who was +greatly rejoiced, and went about from wigwam to wigwam, telling the +tribe that Chepian had appeared to her grandson. So they had a great +feast and dance, and he was thenceforth looked upon as a Powah. Shortly +after, a woman of the tribe falling sick, he was sent for to heal her, +which he did by praying to Chepian and laying his hands upon her; and at +divers other times the Devil helped him in his enchantments and +witcheries." + +I asked Mr. Eliot whether he did know of any women who were Powahs. +He confessed he knew none; which was the more strange, as in Christian +countries the Old Serpent did commonly find instruments of his craft +among the women. + +To my query as to what notion the heathen had of God and a future state, +he said that, when he did discourse them concerning the great and true +God, who made all things, and of heaven and hell, they would readily +consent thereto, saying that so their fathers had taught them; but when +he spake to them of the destruction of the world by fire, and the +resurrection of the body, they would not hear to it, for they pretend to +hold that the spirit of the dead man goes forthwith, after death, to the +happy hunting-grounds made for good Indians, or to the cold and dreary +swamps and mountains, where the bad Indians do starve and freeze, and +suffer all manner of hardships. + +There was, Mr. Eliot told us, a famous Powah, who, coming to Punkapog, +while he was at that Indian town, gave out among the people there that a +little humming-bird did come to him and peck at him when he did aught +that was wrong, and sing sweetly to him when he did a good thing, or +spake the right words; which coming to Mr. Eliot's ear, he made him +confess, in the presence of the congregation, that he did only mean, by +the figure of the bird, the sense he had of right and wrong in his own +mind. This fellow was, moreover, exceeding cunning, and did often ask +questions hard to be answered touching the creation of the Devil, and +the fall of man. + +I said to him that I thought it must be a great satisfaction to him to +be permitted to witness the fruit of his long labors and sufferings in +behalf of these people, in the hopeful conversion of so many of them to +the light and knowledge of the Gospel; to which he replied that his poor +labors had been indeed greatly blest, but it was all of the Lord's +doing, and he could truly say he felt, in view of the great wants of +these wild people, and their darkness and misery, that he had by no +means done all his duty towards them. He said also, that whenever he +was in danger of being puffed up with the praise of men, or the vanity +of his own heart, the Lord had seen meet to abase and humble him, by the +falling back of some of his people to their old heathenish practices. +The war, moreover, was a sore evil to the Indian churches, as some few +of their number were enticed by Philip to join him in his burnings and +slaughterings, and this did cause even the peaceful and innocent to be +vehemently suspected and cried out against as deceivers and murderers. +Poor, unoffending old men, and pious women, had been shot at and killed +by our soldiers, their wigwams burned, their families scattered, and +driven to seek shelter with the enemy; yea, many Christian Indians, he +did believe, had been sold as slaves to the Barbadoes, which he did +account a great sin, and a reproach to our people. Major Gookins said +that a better feeling towards the Indians did now prevail among the +people; the time having been when, because of his friendliness to them, +and his condemnation of their oppressors, he was cried out against and +stoned in the streets, to the great hazard of his life. + +So, after some further discourse, our guests left us, Mr. Eliot kindly +inviting me to visit his Indian congregation near Boston, whereby I +could judge for myself of their condition. + + + +February 22, 1679. + +The weather suddenly changing from a warm rain and mist to sharp, clear +cold, the trees a little way from the house did last evening so shine +with a wonderful brightness in the light of the moon, now nigh unto its +full, that I was fain to go out upon the hill-top to admire them. And +truly it was no mean sight to behold every small twig becrusted with +ice, and glittering famously like silver-work or crystal, as the rays of +the moon did strike upon them. Moreover, the earth was covered with +frozen snow, smooth and hard like to marble, through which the long +rushes, the hazels, and mulleins, and the dry blades of the grasses, did +stand up bravely, bedight with frost. And, looking upward, there were +the dark tops of the evergreen trees, such as hemlocks, pines, and +spruces, starred and bespangled, as if wetted with a great rain of +molten crystal. After admiring and marvelling at this rare +entertainment and show of Nature, I said it did mind me of what the +Spaniards and Portuguese relate of the great Incas of Guiana, who had a +garden of pleasure in the Isle of Puna, whither they were wont to betake +themselves when they would enjoy the air of the sea, in which they had +all manner of herbs and flowers, and trees curiously fashioned of gold +and silver, and so burnished that their exceeding brightness did dazzle +the eyes of the beholders. + +"Nay," said the worthy Mr. Mather, who did go with us, "it should +rather, methinks, call to mind what the Revelator hath said of the Holy +City. I never look upon such a wonderful display of the natural world +without remembering the description of the glory of that city which +descended out of heaven from God, having the glory of God, and her light +like unto a stone most precious, even like unto a jasper stone, clear as +crystal. And the building of the wall of it was of jasper, and the city +was pure gold like unto clear glass. And the twelve gates were twelve +pearls, every several gate was of one pearl, and the street of the city +was pure gold, as it were transparent glass. + +"There never was a king's palace lighted up and adorned like this," +continued Mr. Mather, as we went homewards. "It seemeth to be Gods +design to show how that He can glorify himself in the work of His hands, +even at this season of darkness and death, when all things are sealed +up, and there be no flowers, nor leaves, nor ruining brooks, to speak of +His goodness and sing forth His praises. Truly hath it been said, Great +things doeth He, which we cannot comprehend. For He saith to the snow, +Be thou on the earth; likewise to the small rain and the great rain of +His strength. He sealeth up the hand of every man, that all men may +know His work. Then the beasts go into their dens, and they remain in +their places. Out of the south cometh the whirlwind, and cold out of +the north. By the breath of God is the frost given, and the breadth of +the waters straitened." + + + +March 10. + +I have been now for many days afflicted with a great cold and pleurisy, +although, by God's blessing on the means used, I am wellnigh free from +pain, and much relieved, also, from a tedious cough. In this sickness I +have not missed the company and kind ministering of my dear Cousin +Rebecca, which was indeed a great comfort. She tells me to-day that the +time hath been fixed upon for her marriage with Sir Thomas, which did +not a little rejoice me, as I am to go back to mine own country in their +company. I long exceedingly to see once again the dear friends from whom +I have been separated by many months of time and a great ocean. + +Cousin Torrey, of Weymouth, coming in yesterday, brought with her a very +bright and pretty Indian girl, one of Mr. Eliot's flock, of the Natick +people. She was apparelled after the English manner, save that she wore +leggings, called moccasins, in the stead of shoes, wrought over daintily +with the quills of an animal called a porcupine, and hung about with +small black and white shells. Her hair, which was exceeding long and +black, hung straight down her back, and was parted from her forehead, +and held fast by means of a strip of birch back, wrought with quills and +feathers, which did encircle her head. She speaks the English well, and +can write somewhat, as well as read. Rebecca, for my amusement, did +query much with her regarding the praying Indians; and on her desiring +to know whether they did in no wise return to their old practices and +worships, Wauwoonemeen (for so she was called by her people) told us +that they did still hold their Keutikaw, or Dance for the Dead; and +that the ministers, although they did not fail to discourage it, had not +forbidden it altogether, inasmuch as it was but a civil custom of the +people, and not a religious rite. This dance did usually take place at +the end of twelve moons after the death of one of their number, and +finished the mourning. The guests invited bring presents to the +bereaved family, of wampum, beaver-skins, corn, and ground-nuts, and +venison. These presents are delivered to a speaker, appointed for the +purpose, who takes them, one by one, and hands them over to the +mourners, with a speech entreating them to be consoled by these tokens +of the love of their neighbors, and to forget their sorrows. After +which, they sit down to eat, and are merry together. + +Now it had so chanced that at a Keutikaw held the present winter, two +men had been taken ill, and had died the next day; and although Mr. +Eliot, when he was told of it, laid the blame thereof upon their hard +dancing until they were in a great heat, and then running out into the +snow and sharp air to cool themselves, it was thought by many that they +were foully dealt with and poisoned. So two noted old Powahs from +Wauhktukook, on the great river Connecticut, were sent for to discover +the murderers. Then these poor heathen got together in a great wigwam, +where the old wizards undertook, by their spells and incantations, to +consult the invisible powers in the matter. I asked Wauwoonemeen if she +knew how they did practise on the occasion; whereupon she said that none +but men were allowed to be in the wigwam, but that she could hear the +beating of sticks on the ground, and the groans and howlings and dismal +mutterings of the Powahs, and that she, with another young woman, +venturing to peep through a hole in the back of the wigwam, saw a great +many people sitting on the ground, and the two Powahs before the fire, +jumping and smiting their breasts, and rolling their eyes very +frightfully. + +"But what came of it?" asked Rebecca. "Did the Evil Spirit whom they +thus called upon testify against himself, by telling who were his +instruments in mischief?" + +The girl said she had never heard of any discovery of the poisoners, if +indeed there were such. She told us, moreover, that many of the best +people in the tribe would have no part in the business, counting it +sinful; and that the chief actors were much censured by the ministers, +and so ashamed of it that they drove the Powahs out of the village, the +women and boys chasing them and beating them with sticks and frozen +snow, so that they had to take to the woods in a sorry plight. + +We gave the girl some small trinkets, and a fair piece of cloth for an +apron, whereat she was greatly pleased. We were all charmed with her +good parts, sweetness of countenance, and discourse and ready wit, being +satisfied thereby that Nature knoweth no difference between Europe and +America in blood, birth, and bodies, as we read in Acts 17 that God hath +made of one blood all mankind. I was specially minded of a saying of +that ingenious but schismatic man, Mr. Roger Williams, in the little +book which he put forth in England on the Indian tongue:-- + + "Boast not, proud English, of thy birth and blood, + Thy brother Indian is by birth as good; + Of one blood God made him and thee and all, + As wise, as fair, as strong, as personal. + + "By nature wrath's his portion, thine, no more, + Till grace his soul and thine in Christ restore. + Make sure thy second birth, else thou shalt see + Heaven ope to Indians wild, but shut to thee!" + + + +March 15. + +One Master O'Shane, an Irish scholar, of whom my cousins here did learn +the Latin tongue, coming in last evening, and finding Rebecca and I +alone (uncle and aunt being on a visit to Mr. Atkinson's), was exceeding +merry, entertaining us rarely with his stories and songs. Rebecca tells +me he is a learned man, as I can well believe, but that he is too fond +of strong drink for his good, having thereby lost the favor of many of +the first families here, who did formerly employ him. There was one +ballad, which he saith is of his own making, concerning the selling of +the daughter of a great Irish lord as a slave in this land, which +greatly pleased me; and on my asking for a copy of it, he brought it to +me this morning, in a fair hand. I copy it in my Journal, as I know +that Oliver, who is curious in such things, will like it. + + +KATHLEEN. + + O NORAH, lay your basket down, + And rest your weary hand, + And come and hear me sing a song + Of our old Ireland. + + There was a lord of Galaway, + A mighty lord was he; + And he did wed a second wife, + A maid of low degree. + + But he was old, and she was young, + And so, in evil spite, + She baked the black bread for his kin, + And fed her own with white. + + She whipped the maids and starved the kern, + And drove away the poor; + "Ah, woe is me!" the old lord said, + "I rue my bargain sore!" + + This lord he had a daughter fair, + Beloved of old and young, + And nightly round the shealing-fires + Of her the gleeman sung. + + "As sweet and good is young Kathleen + As Eve before her fall;" + So sang the harper at the fair, + So harped he in the hall. + + "Oh, come to me, my daughter dear! + Come sit upon my knee, + For looking in your face, Kathleen, + Your mother's own I see!" + + He smoothed and smoothed her hair away, + He kissed her forehead fair; + "It is my darling Mary's brow, + It is my darling's hair!" + + Oh, then spake up the angry dame, + "Get up, get up," quoth she, + "I'll sell ye over Ireland, + I'll sell ye o'er the sea!" + + She clipped her glossy hair away, + That none her rank might know; + She took away her gown of silk, + And gave her one of tow, + + And sent her down to Limerick town + And to a seaman sold + This daughter of an Irish lord + For ten good pounds in gold. + + The lord he smote upon his breast, + And tore his beard so gray; + But he was old, and she was young, + And so she had her way. + + Sure that same night the Banshee howled + To fright the evil dame, + And fairy folks, who loved Kathleen, + With funeral torches came. + + She watched them glancing through the trees, + And glimmering down the hill; + They crept before the dead-vault door, + And there they all stood still! + + "Get up, old man! the wake-lights shine!" + "Ye murthering witch," quoth he, + "So I'm rid of your tongue, I little care + If they shine for you or me." + + "Oh, whoso brings my daughter back, + My gold and land shall have!" + Oh, then spake up his handsome page, + "No gold nor land I crave! + + "But give to me your daughter dear, + Give sweet Kathleen to me, + Be she on sea or be she on land, + I'll bring her back to thee." + + "My daughter is a lady born, + And you of low degree, + But she shall be your bride the day + You bring her back to me." + + He sailed east, he sailed west, + And far and long sailed he, + Until he came to Boston town, + Across the great salt sea. + + "Oh, have ye seen the young Kathleen, + The flower of Ireland? + Ye'll know her by her eyes so blue, + And by her snow-white hand!" + + Out spake an ancient man, "I know + The maiden whom ye mean; + I bought her of a Limerick man, + And she is called Kathleen. + + "No skill hath she in household work, + Her hands are soft and white, + Yet well by loving looks and ways + She doth her cost requite." + + So up they walked through Boston town, + And met a maiden fair, + A little basket on her arm + So snowy-white and bare. + + "Come hither, child, and say hast thou + This young man ever seen?" + They wept within each other's arms, + The page and young Kathleen. + + "Oh give to me this darling child, + And take my purse of gold." + "Nay, not by me," her master said, + "Shall sweet Kathleen be sold. + + "We loved her in the place of one + The Lord hath early ta'en; + But, since her heart's in Ireland, + We give her back again!" + + Oh, for that same the saints in heaven + For his poor soul shall pray, + And Mary Mother wash with tears + His heresies away. + + Sure now they dwell in Ireland; + As you go up Claremore + Ye'll see their castle looking down + The pleasant Galway shore. + + And the old lord's wife is dead and gone, + And a happy man is he, + For he sits beside his own Kathleen, + With her darling on his knee. + + 1849. + + + +March 27, 1679. + +Spent the afternoon and evening yesterday at Mr. Mather's, with uncle +and aunt, Rebecca and Sir Thomas, and Mr. Torrey of Weymouth, and his +wife; Mr. Thacher, the minister of the South Meeting, and Major Simon +Willard of Concord, being present also. There was much discourse of +certain Antinomians, whose loose and scandalous teachings in respect to +works were strongly condemned, although Mr. Thacher thought there might +be danger, on the other hand, of falling into the error of the +Socinians, who lay such stress upon works, that they do not scruple to +undervalue and make light of faith. Mr. Torrey told of some of the +Antinomians, who, being guilty of scandalous sins, did nevertheless +justify themselves, and plead that they were no longer under the law. +Sir Thomas drew Rebecca and I into a corner of the room, saying he was +a-weary of so much disputation, and began relating somewhat which befell +him in a late visit to the New Haven people. Among other things, he +told us that while he was there, a maid of nineteen years was put upon +trial for her life, by complaint of her parents of disobedience of their +commands, and reviling them; that at first the mother of the girl did +seem to testify strongly against her; but when she had spoken a few +words, the accused crying out with a bitter lamentation, that she should +be destroyed in her youth by the words of her own mother, the woman did +so soften her testimony that the Court, being in doubt upon the matter, +had a consultation with the ministers present, as to whether the accused +girl had made herself justly liable to the punishment prescribed for +stubborn and rebellious children in Deut. xxi. 20, 21. It was thought +that this law did apply specially unto a rebellious son, according to +the words of the text, and that a daughter could not be put to death +under it; to which the Court did assent, and the girl, after being +admonished, was set free. Thereupon, Sir Thomas told us, she ran +sobbing into the arms of her mother, who did rejoice over her as one +raised from the dead, and did moreover mightily blame herself for +putting her in so great peril, by complaining of her disobedience +to the magistrates. + +Major Willard, a pleasant, talkative man, being asked by Mr. Thacher +some questions pertaining to his journey into the New Hampshire, in the +year '52, with the learned and pious Mr. Edward Johnson, in obedience to +an order of the General Court, for the finding the northernmost part of +the river Merrimac, gave us a little history of the same, some parts of +which I deemed noteworthy. The company, consisting of the two +commissioners, and two surveyors, and some Indians, as guides and +hunters, started from Concord about the middle of July, and followed the +river on which Concord lies, until they came to the great Falls of the +Merrimac, at Patucket, where they were kindly entertained at the wigwam +of a chief Indian who dwelt there. They then went on to the Falls of +the Amoskeag, a famous place of resort for the Indians, and encamped at +the foot of a mountain, under the shade of some great trees, where they +spent the next day, it being the Sabhath. Mr. Johnson read a portion +of the Word, and a psalm was sung, the Indians sitting on the ground a +little way off, in a very reverential manner. They then went to +Annahookline, where were some Indian cornfields, and thence over a wild, +hilly country, to the head of the Merrimac, at a place called by the +Indians Aquedahcan, where they took an observation of the latitude, and +set their names upon a great rock, with that of the worshipful Governor, +John Endicott. Here was the great Lake Winnipiseogee, as large over as +an English county, with many islands upon it, very green with trees and +vines, and abounding with squirrels and birds. They spent two days at +the lake's outlet, one of them the Sabhath, a wonderfully still, quiet +day of the midsummer. "It is strange," said the Major, "but so it is, +that although a quarter of a century hath passed over me since that day, +it is still very fresh and sweet in my memory. Many times, in my +musings, I seem to be once more sitting under the beechen trees of +Aquedahcan, with my three English friends, and I do verily seem to see +the Indians squatted on the lake shore, round a fire, cooking their +dishes, and the smoke thereof curling about among the trees over their +heads; and beyond them is the great lake and the islands thereof, some +big and others exceeding small, and the mountains that do rise on the +other side, and whose woody tops show in the still water as in a glass. +And, withal, I do seem to have a sense of the smell of flowers, which +did abound there, and of the strawberries with which the old Indian +cornfield near unto us was red, they being then ripe and luscious to the +taste. It seems, also, as if I could hear the bark of my dog, and the +chatter of squirrels, and the songs of the birds, in the thick woods +behind us; and, moreover, the voice of my friend Johnson, as he did call +to mind these words of the 104th Psalm: 'Bless the Lord, O my soul! who +coverest thyself with light, as with a garment; who stretchest out the +heavens like a curtain; who layeth the beams of his chambers in the +waters; who maketh the clouds his chariot; and walketh upon the wings of +the wind!' Ah me! I shall never truly hear that voice more, unless, +through God's mercy, I be permitted to join the saints of light in +praise and thanksgiving beside stiller waters and among greener pastures +than are those of Aquedahcan." + +"He was a shining light, indeed," said Mr. Mather, "and, in view of his +loss and that of other worthies in Church and State, we may well say, as +of old, Help, Lord, for the godly man ceaseth!" + +Major Willard said that the works of Mr. Johnson did praise him, +especially that monument of his piety and learning, "The History of New +England; or, Wonder-Working Providence of Sion's Saviour," wherein he +did show himself in verse and in prose a workman not to be ashamed. +There was a piece which Mr. Johnson writ upon birchen bark at the head +of the Merrimac, during the journey of which he had spoken, which had +never been printed, but which did more deserve that honor than much of +the rhymes with which the land now aboundeth. Mr. Mather said he had +the piece of bark then in his possession, on which Mr. Johnson did +write; and, on our desiring to see it, he brought it to us, and, as we +could not well make out the writing thereon, he read it as followeth:-- + + +This lonesome lake, like to a sea, among the mountains lies, +And like a glass doth show their shapes, and eke the clouds and skies. +God lays His chambers' beams therein, that all His power may know, +And holdeth in His fist the winds, that else would mar the show. + +The Lord hath blest this wilderness with meadows, streams, and springs, +And like a garden planted it with green and growing things; +And filled the woods with wholesome meats, and eke with fowls the air, +And sown the land with flowers and herbs, and fruits of savor rare. + +But here the nations know him not, and come and go the days, +Without a morning prayer to Him, or evening song of praise; +The heathen fish upon the lake, or hunt the woods for meat, +And like the brutes do give no thanks for wherewithal to eat. + +They dance in shame and nakedness, with horrid yells to hear, +And like to dogs they make a noise, or screeching owls anear. +Each tribe, like Micah, doth its priest or cunning Powah keep; +Yea, wizards who, like them of old, do mutter and do peep. + +A cursed and an evil race, whom Satan doth mislead, +And rob them of Christ's hope, whereby he makes them poor indeed; +They hold the waters and the hills, and clouds, and stars to be +Their gods; for, lacking faith, they do believe but what they see. + +Yet God on them His sun and rain doth evermore bestow, +And ripens all their harvest-fields and pleasant fruits also. +For them He makes the deer and moose, for them the fishes swim, +And all the fowls in woods and air are goodly gifts from Him. + +Yea, more; for them, as for ourselves, hath Christ a ransom paid, +And on Himself, their sins and ours, a common burden laid. +By nature vessels of God's wrath, 't is He alone can give +To English or to Indians wild the grace whereby we live. + +Oh, let us pray that in these wilds the Gospel may be preached, +And these poor Gentiles of the woods may by its truth be reached; +That ransomed ones the tidings glad may sound with joy abroad, +And lonesome Aquedahcan hear the praises of the Lord! + + + +March 18. + +My cough still troubling me, an ancient woman, coming in yesterday, did +so set forth the worth and virtue of a syrup of her making, that Aunt +Rawson sent Effie over to the woman's house for a bottle of it. The +woman sat with us a pretty while, being a lively talking body, although +now wellnigh fourscore years of age. She could tell many things of the +old people of Boston, for, having been in youth the wife of a man of +some note and substance, and being herself a notable housewife and of +good natural parts, she was well looked upon by the better sort of +people. After she became a widow, she was for a little time in the +family of Governor Endicott, at Naumkeag, whom she describeth as a just +and goodly man, but exceeding exact in the ordering of his household, +and of fiery temper withal. When displeasured, he would pull hard at +the long tuft of hair which he wore upon his chin; and on one occasion, +while sitting in the court, he plucked off his velvet cap, and cast it +in the face of one of the assistants, who did profess conscientious +scruples against the putting to death of the Quakers. + +"I have heard say his hand was heavy upon these people," I said. + +"And well it might be," said the old woman, for more pestilent and +provoking strollers and ranters you shall never find than these same +Quakers. They were such a sore trouble to the Governor, that I do +believe his days were shortened by reason of them. For neither the +jail, nor whipping, nor cropping of ears, did suffice to rid him of +them. At last, when a law was made by the General Court, banishing them +on pain of death, the Governor, coming home from Boston, said that he +now hoped to have peace in the Colony, and that this sharpness would +keep the land free from these troublers. I remember it well, how the +next day he did invite the ministers and chief men, and in what a +pleasant frame he was. In the morning I had mended his best velvet +breeches for him, and he praised my work not a little, and gave me six +shillings over and above my wages; and, says he to me: 'Goody Lake,' +says he, 'you are a worthy woman, and do feel concerned for the good of +Zion, and the orderly carrying of matters in Church and State, and hence +I know you will be glad to hear that, after much ado, and in spite of +the strivings of evil-disposed people, the General Court have agreed +upon a law for driving the Quakers out of the jurisdiction, on pain of +death; so that, if any come after this, their blood be upon their own +heads. It is what I have wrestled with the Lord for this many a month, +and I do count it a great deliverance and special favor; yea, I may +truly say, with David: "Thou hast given me my heart's desire, and hast +not withholden the prayer of my lips. Thy hand shall find out all thine +enemies; thou shalt make them as a fiery oven in the time of thine +anger; the Lord shall wallow them up in his wrath, and the fire shall +devour them." You will find these words, Goody Lake,' says he, 'in the +21st Psalm, where what is said of the King will serve for such as be in +authority at this time.' For you must know, young woman, that the +Governor was mighty in Scripture, more especially in his prayers, +when you could think that he had it all at his tongue's end. + +"There was a famous dinner at the Governor's that day, and many guests, +and the Governor had ordered from his cellar some wine, which was a gift +from a Portuguese captain, and of rare quality, as I know of mine own +tasting, when word was sent to the Governor that a man wished to see +him, whom he bid wait awhile. After dinner was over, he went into the +hall, and who should be there but Wharton, the Quaker, who, without +pulling off his hat, or other salutation, cried out: 'John Endicott, +hearken to the word of the Lord, in whose fear and dread I am come. +Thou and thy evil counsellors, the priests, have framed iniquity by law, +but it shall not avail you. Thus saith the Lord, Evil shall slay the +wicked, and they that hate the righteous shall be desolate!' Now, when +the Governor did hear this, he fell, as must needs be, into a rage, and, +seeing me by the door, he bade me call the servants from the kitchen, +which I did, and they running up, he bade them lay hands on the fellow, +and take him away; and then, in a great passion, he called for his +horse, saying he would not rest until he had seen forty stripes save one +laid upon that cursed Quaker, and that he should go to the gallows yet +for his sauciness. So they had him to jail, and the next morning he was +soundly whipped, and ordered to depart the jurisdiction." + +I, being curious to know more concerning the Quakers, asked her if she +did ever talk with any of them who were dealt with by the authorities, +and what they said for themselves. + +"Oh, they never lacked words," said she, "but cried out for liberty of +conscience, and against persecution, and prophesied all manner of evil +upon such as did put in force the law. Some time about the year '56, +there did come two women of them to Boston, and brought with them +certain of their blasphemous books, which the constables burnt in the +street, as I well remember by this token, that, going near the fire, and +seeing one of the books not yet burnt, I stooped to pick it up, when one +of the constables gave me a smart rap with his staff, and snatched it +away. The women being sent to the jail, the Deputy-Governor, Mr. +Bellingham, and the Council, thinking they might be witches, were for +having them searched; and Madam Bellingham naming me and another woman +to her husband, he sent for us, and bade us go to the jail and search +them, to see if there was any witch-mark on their bodies. So we went, +and told them our errand, at which they marvelled not a little, and one +of them, a young, well-favored woman, did entreat that they might not be +put to such shame, for the jailer stood all the time in the yard, +looking in at the door; but we told them such was the order, and so, +without more ado, stripped them of their clothes, but found nothing save +a mole on the left breast of he younger, into which Goodwife Page thrust +her needle, at which the woman did give a cry as of pain, and the blood +flowed; whereas, if it had been witch's mark, she would not have felt +the prick, for would it have caused blood. So, finding nothing that did +look like witchcraft, we left them; and on being brought before the +Court, Deputy-Governor Bellingham asked us what we had to say concerning +the women. Whereupon Goodwife Page, being the oldest of us, told him +that we did find no appearance of witches upon their bodies, save the +mole on the younger woman's breast (which was but natural), but that +otherwise she was fair as Absalom, who had no blemish from the soles of +his feet to the crown of his head. Thereupon the Deputy-Governor +dismissed us, saying that it might be that the Devil did not want them +for witches, because they could better serve him as Quakers: whereat all +the Court fell to laughing." + +"And what did become of the women?" I asked. + +"They kept them in jail awhile," said Nurse Lake, "and then sent them +back to England. But the others that followed fared harder,--some +getting whipped at the cart-tail, and others losing their ears. The +hangman's wife showed me once the ears of three of them, which her +husband cut off in the jail that very morning." + +"This is dreadful!" said I, for I thought of my dear brother and sweet +Margaret Brewster, and tears filled mine eyes. + +"Nay; but they were sturdy knaves and vagabonds," answered Nurse Lake, +"although one of them was the son of a great officer in the Barbadoes, +and accounted a gentleman before he did run out into his evil practices. +But cropping of ears did not stop these headstrong people, and they +still coming, some were put to death. There were three of them to be +hanged at one time. I do remember it well, for it was a clear, warm day +about the last of October, and it was a brave sight to behold. There +was Marshal Michelson and Captain Oliver, with two hundred soldiers +afoot, besides many on horse of our chief people, and among them the +minister, Mr. Wilson, looking like a saint as he was, with a pleasant +and joyful countenance, and a great multitude of people, men, women, and +children, not only of Boston, but from he towns round about. I got +early on to the ground, and when they were going to the gallows I kept +as near to the condemned ones as I could. There were two young, well- +favored men, and a woman with gray hairs. As they walked hand in band, +the woman in the middle, the Marshal, who was riding beside them, and +who was a merry drolling man, asked her if she was n't ashamed to walk +hand in hand between two young men; whereupon, looking upon him +solemnly, she said she was not ashamed, for this was to her an hour of +great joy, and that no eye could see, no ear hear, no tongue speak, and +no heart understand, the sweet incomes and refreshings of the Lord's +spirit, which she did then feel. This she spake aloud, so that all +about could hear, whereat Captain Oliver bid the drums to beat and drown +her voice. Now, when they did come to the gallows ladder, on each side +of which the officers and chief people stood, the two men kept on their +hats, as is the ill manner of their sort, which so provoked Mr. Wilson, +the minister, that he cried out to them: 'What! shall such Jacks as you +come before authority with your hats on?' To which one of them said: +'Mind you, it is for not putting off our hats that we are put to death.' +The two men then went up the ladder, and tried to speak; but I could not +catch a word, being outside of the soldiers, and much fretted and +worried by the crowd. They were presently turned off, and then the +woman went up the ladder, and they tied her coats down to her feet, and +put the halter on her neck, and, lacking a handkerchief to tie over her +face, the minister lent the hangman his. Just then your Uncle Rawson +comes a-riding up to the gallows, waving his hand, and crying out, +'Stop! she is reprieved!' So they took her down, although she said she +was ready to die as her brethren did, unless they would undo their +bloody laws. I heard Captain Oliver tell her it was for her son's sake +that she was spared. So they took her to jail, and after a time sent +her back to her husband in Rhode Island, which was a favor she did in no +wise deserve; but good Governor Endicott, much as he did abhor these +people, sought not their lives, and spared no pains to get them +peaceably out the country; but they were a stubborn crew, and must needs +run their necks into the halter, as did this same woman; for, coming +back again, under pretence of pleading for the repeal of the laws +against Quakers, she was not long after put to death. The excellent Mr. +Wilson made a brave ballad on the hanging, which I have heard the boys +in the street sing many a time." + +A great number, both men and women, were--"whipped and put in the +stocks," continued the woman, "and I once beheld two of them, one a +young and the other an aged woman, in a cold day in winter, tied to the +tail of a cart, going through Salem Street, stripped to their waists as +naked as they were born, and their backs all covered with red whip- +marks; but there was a more pitiful case of one Hored Gardner, a young +married woman, with a little child and her nurse, who, coming to +Weymouth, was laid hold of and sent to Boston, where both were whipped, +and, as I was often at the jail to see the keeper's wife, it so chanced +that I was there at the time. The woman, who was young and delicate, +when they were stripping her, held her little child in her arms; and +when the jailer plucked it from her bosom, she looked round anxiously, +and, seeing me, said, 'Good woman, I know thou 't have pity on the +babe,' and asked me to hold it, which I did. She was then whipped with +a threefold whip, with knots in the ends, which did tear sadly into her +flesh; and, after it was over, she kneeled down, with her back all +bleeding, and prayed for them she called her persecutors. I must say I +did greatly pity her, and I spoke to the jailer's wife, and we washed +the poor creature's back, and put on it some famous ointment, so that +she soon got healed." + +Aunt Rawson now coming in, the matter was dropped; but, on my speaking +to her of it after Nurse Lake had left, she said it was a sore trial to +many, even those in authority, and who were charged with the putting in +force of the laws against these people. She furthermore said, that +Uncle Rawson and Mr. Broadstreet were much cried out against by the +Quakers and their abettors on both sides of the water, but they did but +their duty in the matter, and for herself she had always mourned over +the coming of these people, and was glad when the Court did set any of +them free. When the woman was hanged, my aunt spent the whole day with +Madam Broadstreet, who was so wrought upon that she was fain to take to +her bed, refusing to be comforted, and counting it the heaviest day of +her life. + +"Looking out of her chamber window," said Aunt Rawson, "I saw the people +who had been to the hanging coming back from the training-field; and +when Anne Broadstreet did hear the sound of their feet in the road, she +groaned, and said that it did seem as if every foot fell upon her heart. +Presently Mr. Broadstreet came home, bringing with him the minister, +Mr. John Norton. They sat down in the chamber, and for some little time +there was scarce a word spoken. At length Madam Broadstreet, turning to +her husband and laying her hand on his arm, as was her loving manner, +asked him if it was indeed all over. 'The woman is dead,' said he; 'but +I marvel, Anne, to see you so troubled about her. Her blood is upon her +own head, for we did by no means seek her life. She hath trodden under +foot our laws, and misused our great forbearance, so that we could do no +otherwise than we have done. So under the Devil's delusion was she, +that she wanted no minister or elder to pray with her at the gallows, +but seemed to think herself sure of heaven, heeding in no wise the +warnings of Mr. Norton, and other godly people.' + +"'Did she rail at, or cry out against any?' asked his wife. 'Nay, not to +my hearing,' he said, 'but she carried herself as one who had done no +harm, and who verily believed that she had obeyed the Lord's will.' + +"'This is very dreadful,' said she, 'and I pray that the death of that +poor misled creature may not rest heavy upon us.' + +"Hereupon Mr. Norton lifted up his head, which had been bowed down upon +his hand; and I shall never forget how his pale and sharp features did +seem paler than their wont, and his solemn voice seemed deeper and +sadder. 'Madam!' he said, 'it may well befit your gentleness and +sweetness of heart to grieve over the sufferings even of the froward and +ungodly, when they be cut off from the congregation of the Lord, as His +holy and just law enjoineth, for verily I also could weep for the +condemned one, as a woman and a mother; and, since her coming, I have +wrestled with the Lord, in prayer and fasting, that I might be His +instrument in snatching her as a brand from the burning. But, as a +watchman on the walls of Zion, when I did see her casting poison into +the wells of life, and enticing unstable souls into the snares and +pitfalls of Satan, what should I do but sound an alarm against her? And +the magistrate, such as your worthy husband, who is also appointed of +God, and set for the defence of the truth, and the safety of the Church +and the State, what can he do but faithfully to execute the law of God, +which is a terror to evil doers? The natural pity which we feel must +give place unto the duty we do severally owe to God and His Church, and +the government of His appointment. It is a small matter to be judged of +man's judgment, for, though certain people have not scrupled to call me +cruel and hard of heart, yet the Lord knows I have wept in secret places +over these misguided men and women. + +"'But might not life be spared?' asked Madam Broadstreet. 'Death is a +great thing.' + +"'It is appointed unto all to die,' said Mr. Norton, 'and after death +cometh the judgment. The death of these poor bodies is a bitter thing, +but the death of the soul is far more dreadful; and it is better that +these people should suffer than that hundreds of precious souls should +be lost through their evil communication. The care of the dear souls of +my flock lieth heavily upon me, as many sleepless nights and days of +fasting do bear witness. I have not taken counsel of flesh and blood in +this grave matter, nor yielded unto the natural weakness of my heart. +And while some were for sparing these workers of iniquity, even as Saul +spared Agag, I have been strengthened, as it were, to hew them in pieces +before the Lord in Gilgal. O madam, your honored husband can tell you +what travail of spirit, what sore trials, these disturbers have cost us; +and as you do know in his case, so believe also in mine, that what we +have done hath been urged, not by hardness and cruelty of heart, but +rather by our love and tenderness towards the Lord's heritage in this +land. Through care and sorrow I have grown old before my time; few and +evil have been the days of my pilgrimage, and the end seems not far off; +and though I have many sins and shortcomings to answer for, I do humbly +trust that the blood of the souls of the flock committed to me will not +then be found upon my garments.' + +"Ah, me! I shall never forget these words of that godly man," continued +my aunt, "for, as he said, his end was not far off. He died very +suddenly, and the Quakers did not scruple to say that it was God's +judgment upon him for his severe dealing with their people. They even +go so far as to say that the land about Boston is cursed because of the +hangings and whippings, inasmuch as wheat will not now grow here, as it +did formerly, and, indeed, many, not of their way, do believe the same +thing." + + + +April 24. + +A vessel from London has just come to port, bringing Rebecca's dresses +for the wedding, which will take place about the middle of June, as I +hear. Uncle Rawson has brought me a long letter from Aunt Grindall, +with one also from Oliver, pleasant and lively, like himself. No +special news from abroad that I hear of. My heart longs for Old England +more and more. + +It is supposed that the freeholders have chosen Mr. Broadstreet for +their Governor. The vote, uncle says, is exceeding small, very few +people troubling themselves about it. + + + +May 2. + +Mr. John Easton, a man of some note in the Providence Plantations, +having occasion to visit Boston yesterday, brought me a message from my +brother, to the effect that he was now married and settled, and did +greatly desire me to make the journey to his house in the company of his +friend, John Easton, and his wife's sister. I feared to break the +matter to my uncle, but Rebecca hath done so for me, and he hath, to my +great joy, consented thereto; for, indeed, he refuseth nothing to her. +My aunt fears for me, that I shall suffer from the cold, as the weather +is by no means settled, although the season is forward, as compared with +the last; but I shall take good care as to clothing; and John Easton +saith we shall be but two nights on the way. + + + +THE PLANTATIONS, May 10, 1679. + +We left Boston on the 4th, at about sunrise, and rode on at a brisk +trot, until we came to the banks of the river, along which we went near +a mile before we found a suitable ford, and even there the water was so +deep that we only did escape a wetting by drawing our feet up to the +saddle-trees. About noon, we stopped at a farmer's house, in the hope +of getting a dinner; but the room was dirty as an Indian wigwam, with +two children in it, sick with the measles, and the woman herself in a +poor way, and we were glad to leave as soon as possible, and get into +the fresh air again. Aunt had provided me with some cakes, and Mr. +Easton, who is an old traveller, had with him a roasted fowl and a good +loaf of Indian bread; so, coming to a spring of excellent water, we got +off our horses, and, spreading our napkins on the grass and dry leaves, +had a comfortable dinner. John's sister is a widow, a lively, merry +woman, and proved rare company for me. Afterwards we rode until the sun +was nigh setting, when we came to a little hut on the shore of a broad +lake at a place called Massapog. It had been dwelt in by a white family +formerly, but it was now empty, and much decayed in the roof, and as we +did ride up to it we saw a wild animal of some sort leap out of one of +its windows, and run into the pines. Here Mr. Easton said we must make +shift to tarry through the night, as it was many miles to the house of a +white man. So, getting off our horses, we went into the hut, which had +but one room, with loose boards for a floor; and as we sat there in the +twilight, it looked dismal enough; but presently Mr. Easton, coming in +with a great load of dried boughs, struck a light in the stone +fireplace, and we soon had a roaring fire. His sister broke off some +hemlock boughs near the door, and made a broom of them, with which she +swept up the floor, so that when we sat down on blocks by the hearth, +eating our poor supper, we thought ourselves quite comfortable and tidy. +It was a wonderful clear night, the moon rising, as we judged, about +eight of the clock, over the tops of the hills on the easterly side of +the lake, and shining brightly on the water in a long line of light, as +if a silver bridge had been laid across it. Looking out into the +forest, we could see the beams of the moon, falling here and there +through the thick tops of the pines and hemlocks, and showing their tall +trunks, like so many pillars in a church or temple. There was a +westerly wind blowing, not steadily, but in long gusts, which, sounding +from a great distance through the pine leaves, did make a solemn and not +unpleasing music, to which I listened at the door until the cold drove +me in for shelter. Our horses having been fed with corn, which Mr. +Easton took with him, were tied at the back of the building, under the +cover of a thick growth of hemlocks, which served to break off the night +wind. The widow and I had a comfortable bed in the corner of the room, +which we made of small hemlock sprigs, having our cloaks to cover us, +and our saddlebags for pillows. My companions were soon asleep, but the +exceeding strangeness of my situation did keep me a long time awake. +For, as I lay there looking upward, I could see the stars shining down a +great hole in the roof, and the moonlight streaming through the seams of +the logs, and mingling with the red glow of the coals on the hearth. I +could hear the horses stamping, just outside, and the sound of the water +on the lake shore, the cry of wild animals in the depth of the woods, +and, over all, the long and very wonderful murmur of the pines in the +wind. At last, being sore weary, I fell asleep, and waked not until I +felt the warm sun shining in my face, and heard the voice of Mr. Easton +bidding me rise, as the horses were ready. + +After riding about two hours we came upon an Indian camp, in the midst +of a thick wood of maples. Here were six spacious wigwams; but the men +were away, except two very old and infirm ones. There were five or six +women, and perhaps twice as many children, who all came out to see us. +They brought us some dried meat, as hard nigh upon as chips of wood, and +which, although hungry, I could feel no stomach for; but I bought of one +of the squaws two great cakes of sugar, made from the sap of the maples +which abound there, very pure and sweet, and which served me instead of +their unsavory meat and cakes of pounded corn, of which Mr. Easton and +his sister did not scruple to partake. Leaving them, we had a long and +hard ride to a place called Winnicinnit, where, to my great joy, we +found a comfortable house and Christian people, with whom we tarried. +The next day we got to the Plantations; and about noon, from the top of +a hill, Mr. Easton pointed out the settlement where my brother dwelt,-- +a fair, pleasant valley, through which ran a small river, with the +houses of the planters on either side. Shortly after, we came to a new +frame house, with a great oak-tree left standing on each side of the +gate, and a broad meadow before it, stretching down to the water. Here +Mr. Easton stopped; and now, who should come hastening down to us but my +new sister, Margaret, in her plain but comely dress, kindly welcoming +me; and soon my brother came up from the meadow, where he was busy with +his men. It was indeed a joyful meeting. + +The next day being the Sabhath, I went with my brother and his wife to +the meeting, which was held in a large house of one of their Quaker +neighbors. About a score of grave, decent people did meet there, +sitting still and quiet for a pretty while, when one of their number, +a venerable man, spake a few words, mostly Scripture; then a young +woman, who, I did afterwards learn, had been hardly treated by the +Plymouth people, did offer a few words of encouragement and exhortation +from this portion of the 34th Psalm: "The angel of the Lord encampeth +round about them that fear him, and delivereth them." When the meeting +was over, some of the ancient women came and spake kindly to me, +inviting me to their houses. In the evening certain of these people +came to my brother's, and were kind and loving towards me. There was, +nevertheless, a gravity and a certain staidness of deportment which I +could but ill conform unto, and I was not sorry when they took leave. +My Uncle Rawson need not fear my joining with them; for, although I do +judge them to be a worthy and pious people, I like not their manner of +worship, and their great gravity and soberness do little accord with my +natural temper and spirits. + + + +May 16. + +This place is in what is called the Narragansett country, and about +twenty miles from Mr. Williams's town of Providence, a place of no small +note. Mr. Williams, who is now an aged man, more than fourscore, was +the founder of the Province, and is held in great esteem by the people, +who be of all sects and persuasions, as the Government doth not molest +any in worshipping according to conscience; and hence you will see in +the same neighborhood Anabaptists, Quakers, New Lights, Brownists, +Antinomians, and Socinians,--nay, I am told there be Papists also. Mr. +Williams is a Baptist, and holdeth mainly with Calvin and Beza, as +respects the decrees, and hath been a bitter reviler of the Quakers, +although he hath ofttimes sheltered them from the rigor of the +Massachusetts Bay magistrates, who he saith have no warrant to deal in +matters of conscience and religion, as they have done. + +Yesterday came the Governor of the Rhode Island, Nicholas Easton, the +father of John, with his youngest daughter Mary, as fair and as ladylike +a person as I have seen for many a day. Both her father and herself do +meet with the "Friends," as they call themselves, at their great house +on the Island, and the Governor sometimes speaks therein, having, as one +of the elders here saith of him, "a pretty gift in the ministry." Mary, +who is about the age of my brother's wife, would fain persuade us to go +back with them on the morrow to the Island, but Leonard's business will +not allow it, and I would by no means lose his company while I tarry in +these parts, as I am so soon to depart for home, where a great ocean +will separate us, it may be for many years. Margaret, who hath been to +the Island, saith that the Governor's house is open to all new-comers, +who are there entertained with rare courtesy, he being a man of +substance, having a great plantation, with orchards and gardens, and +a stately house on an hill over-looking the sea on either hand, where, +six years ago, when the famous George Fox was on the Island, he did +entertain and lodge no less than fourscore persons, beside his own +family and servants. + +Governor Easton, who is a pleasant talker, told a story of a magistrate +who had been a great persecutor of his people. On one occasion, after +he had cast a worthy Friend into jail, he dreamed a dream in this wise: +He thought he was in a fair, delightsome place, where were sweet springs +of water and green meadows, and rare fruit-trees and vines with ripe +clusters thereon, and in the midst thereof flowed a river whose waters +were clearer than crystal. Moreover, he did behold a great multitude +walking on the river's bank, or sitting lovingly in the shade of the +trees which grew thereby. Now, while he stood marvelling at all this, +he beheld in his dream the man he had cast into prison sitting with his +hat on, side by side with a minister then dead, whom the magistrate had +held in great esteem while living; whereat, feeling his anger stirred +within him, he went straight and bade the man take off his hat in the +presence of his betters. Howbeit the twain did give no heed to his +words, but did continue to talk lovingly together as before; whereupon +he waxed exceeding wroth, and would have laid hands upon the man. But, +hearing a voice calling upon him to forbear, he did look about him, and +behold one, with a shining countenance, and clad in raiment so white +that it did dazzle his eyes to look upon it, stood before him. And the +shape said, "Dost thou well to be angry?" Then said the magistrate, +"Yonder is a Quaker with his hat on talking to a godly minister." +"Nay," quoth the shape, "thou seest but after the manner of the world +and with the eyes of flesh. Look yonder, and tell me what thou seest." +So he looked again, and lo! two men in shining raiment, like him who +talked with him, sat under the tree. "Tell me," said the shape, "if thou +canst, which of the twain is the Quaker and which is the Priest?" And +when he could not, but stood in amazement confessing he did see neither +of them, the shape said, "Thou sayest well, for here be neither Priest +nor Quaker, Jew nor Gentile, but all are one in the Lord." Then he +awoke, and pondered long upon his dream, and when it was morning he went +straightway to the jail, and ordered the man to be set free, and hath +ever since carried himself lovingly towards the Quakers. + +My brother's lines have indeed fallen unto him in a pleasant, place. +His house is on a warm slope of a hill, looking to the southeast, with a +great wood of oaks and walnuts behind it, and before it many acres of +open land, where formerly the Indians did plant their corn, much of +which is now ploughed and seeded. From the top of the hill one can see +the waters of the great Bay; at the foot of it runs a small river +noisily over the rocks, making a continual murmur. Going thither this +morning, I found a great rock hanging over the water, on which I sat +down, listening to the noise of the stream and the merriment of the +birds in the trees, and admiring the green banks, which were besprinkled +with white and yellow flowers. I call to mind that sweet fancy of the +lamented Anne Broadstreet, the wife of the new Governor of +Massachusetts, in a little piece which she nameth "Contemplations," +being written on the banks of a stream, like unto the one whereby I was +then sitting, in which the writer first describeth the beauties of the +wood, and the flowing water, with the bright fishes therein, and then +the songs of birds in the boughs over her head, in this sweet and +pleasing verse, which I have often heard repeated by Cousin Rebecca:-- + + "While musing thus, with contemplation fed, + And thousand fancies buzzing in my brain, + A sweet-tongued songster perched above my head, + And chanted forth her most melodious strain; + Which rapt me so with wonder and delight, + I judged my hearing better than my sight, + And wished me wings with her a while to take my flight. + + "O merry bird! said I, that fears no snares, + That neither toils nor hoards up in the barn, + Feels no sad thoughts, nor cruciating cares, + To gain more good, or shun what might thee harm. + Thy clothes ne'er wear, thy meat is everywhere, + Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water clear, + Reminds not what is past, nor what's to come dost fear. + + "The dawning morn with songs thou dost prevent, + Sets hundred notes unto thy feathered crew, + So each one tunes his pretty instrument, + And, warbling out the old, begins the new. + And thus they pass their youth in summer season, + Then follow thee unto a better region, + Where winter's never felt by that sweet airy legion." + +Now, while I did ponder these lines, hearing a step in the leaves, I +looked up, and behold there was an old Indian close beside me; and, +being much affrighted, I gave a loud cry, and ran towards the house. +The old man laughed at this, and, calling after me, said he would not +harm me; and Leonard, hearing my cries, now coming up, bade me never +fear the Indian, for he was a harmless creature, who was well known to +him. So he kindly saluted the old man, asking me to shake hands with +him, which I did, when he struck across the field to a little cleared +spot on the side of the hill. My brother bidding me note his actions, +I saw him stoop down on his knees, with his head to the ground, for some +space of time, and then, getting up, he stretched out his hands towards +the southwest, as if imploring some one whom I could not see. This he +repeated for nigh upon half an hour, when he came back to the house, +where he got some beer and bread to eat, and a great loaf to carry away. +He said but little until he rose to depart, when he told my brother that +he had been to see the graves of his father and his mother, and that he +was glad to find them as he did leave them the last year; for he knew +that the spirits of the dead would be sore grieved, if the white man's +hoe touched their bones. + +My brother promised him that the burial-place of his people should not +be disturbed, and that he would find it as now, when he did again visit +it. + +"Me never come again," said the old Indian. "No. Umpachee is very old. +He has no squaw; he has no young men who call him father. Umpachee is +like that tree;" and he pointed, as he spoke, to a birch, which stood +apart in the field, from which the bark had fallen, and which did show +no leaf nor bud. + +My brother hereupon spake to him of the great Father of both white and +red men, and of his love towards them, and of the measure of light which +he had given unto all men, whereby they might know good from evil, and +by living in obedience to which they might be happy in this life and in +that to come; exhorting him to put his trust in God, who was able to +comfort and sustain him in his old age, and not to follow after lying +Powahs, who did deceive and mislead him. + +"My young brother's talk is good," said the old man. "The Great Father +sees that his skin is white, and that mine is red. He sees my young +brother when he sits in his praying-house, and me when me offer him corn +and deer's flesh in the woods, and he says good. Umpachee's people have +all gone to one place. If Umpachee go to a praying-house, the Great +Father will send him to the white man's place, and his father and his +mother and his sons will never see him in their hunting-ground. No. +Umpachee is an old beaver that sits in his own house, and swims in his +own pond. He will stay where he is, until his Father calls him." + +Saying this, the old savage went on his way. As he passed out of the +valley, and got to the top of the hill on the other side, we, looking +after him, beheld him standing still a moment, as if bidding farewell to +the graves of his people. + + + +May 24. + +My brother goes with me to-morrow on my way to Boston. I am not a +little loath to leave my dear sister Margaret, who hath greatly won upon +me by her gentleness and loving deportment, and who doth at all times, +even when at work in ordering her household affairs, and amidst the +cares and perplexities of her new life, show forth that sweetness of +temper and that simplicity wherewith I was charmed when I first saw her. +She hath naturally an ingenious mind, and, since her acquaintance with +my brother, hath dipped into such of his studies and readings as she had +leisure and freedom to engage in, so that her conversation is in no wise +beneath her station. Nor doth she, like some of her people, especially +the more simple and unlearned, affect a painful and melancholy look and +a canting tone of discourse, but lacketh not for cheerfulness and a +certain natural ease and grace of demeanor; and the warmth and goodness +of her heart doth at times break the usual quiet of her countenance, +like to sunshine and wind on a still water, and she hath the sweetest +smile I ever saw. I have often thought, since I have been with her, +that if Uncle Rawson could see and hear her as I do for a single day, +he would confess that my brother might have done worse than to take a +Quaker to wife. + + + +BOSTON, May 28, 1679. + +Through God's mercy, I got here safe and well, saving great weariness, +and grief at parting with my brother and his wife. The first day we +went as far as a place they call Rehoboth, where we tarried over night, +finding but small comfort therein; for the house was so filled, that +Leonard and a friend who came with us were fain to lie all night in the +barn, on the mow before their horses; and, for mine own part, I had to +choose between lying in the large room, where the man of the house and +his wife and two sons, grown men, did lodge, or to climb into the dark +loft, where was barely space for a bed,--which last I did make choice +of, although the woman thought it strange, and marvelled not a little at +my unwillingness to sleep in the same room with her husband and boys, +as she called them. In the evening, hearing loud voices in a house near +by, we inquired what it meant, and were told that some people from +Providence were holding a meeting there, the owner of the house being +accounted a Quaker. Whereupon, I went thither with Leonard, and found +nigh upon a score of people gathered, and a man with loose hair and +beard speaking to them. My brother whispered to me that he was no +Friend, but a noted ranter, a noisy, unsettled man. He screamed +exceeding loud, and stamped with his feet, and foamed at the mouth, like +one possessed with an evil spirit, crying against all order in State or +Church, and declaring that the Lord had a controversy with Priests and +Magistrates, the prophets who prophesy falsely, and the priests who bear +rule by their means, and the people who love to have it so. He spake of +the Quakers as a tender and hopeful people in their beginning, and while +the arm of the wicked was heavy upon them; but now he said that they, +even as the rest, were settled down into a dead order, and heaping up +worldly goods, and speaking evil of the Lord's messengers. They were a +part of Babylon, and would perish with their idols; they should drink of +the wine of God's wrath; the day of their visitation was at hand. After +going on thus for a while, up gets a tall, wild-looking woman, as pale +as a ghost, and trembling from head to foot, who, stretching out her +long arms towards the man who had spoken, bade the people take notice +that this was the angel spoken of in Revelation, flying through the +midst of heaven, and crying, Woe! woe! to the inhabitants of the earth! +with more of the like wicked rant, whereat I was not a little +discomposed, and, beckoning my brother, left them to foam out their +shame to themselves. + +The next morning, we got upon our horses at an early hour, and after a +hard and long ride reached Mr. Torrey's at Weymouth, about an hour after +dark. Here we found Cousin Torrey in bed with her second child, a boy, +whereat her husband is not a little rejoiced. My brother here took his +leave of me, going back to the Plantations. My heart is truly sad and +heavy with the great grief of parting. + + + +May 30. + +Went to the South meeting to-day, to hear the sermon preached before the +worshipful Governor, Mr. Broadstreet, and his Majesty's Council, it +being the election day. It was a long sermon, from Esther x. 3. Had +much to say concerning the duty of Magistrates to support the Gospel and +its ministers, and to put an end to schism and heresy. Very pointed, +also, against time-serving Magistrates. + + + +June 1. + +Mr. Michael Wigglesworth, the Malden minister, at uncle's house last +night. Mr. Wigglesworth told aunt that he had preached a sermon against +the wearing of long hair and other like vanities, which he hoped, with +God's blessing, might do good. It was from Isaiah iii. 16, and so on +to the end of the chapter. Now, while he was speaking of the sermon, +I whispered Rebecca that I would like to ask him a question, which he +overhearing, turned to me, and bade me never heed, but speak out. So I +told him that I was but a child in years and knowledge, and he a wise +and learned man; but if he would not deem it forward in me, I would fain +know whether the Scripture did anywhere lay down the particular fashion +of wearing the hair. + +Mr. Wigglesworth said that there were certain general rules laid down, +from which we might make a right application to particular cases. The +wearing of long hair by men is expressly forbidden in 1 Corinthians xi. +14, 15; and there is a special word for women, also, in 1 Tim. ii. 9. + +Hereupon Aunt Rawson told me she thought I was well answered; but I +(foolish one that I was), being unwilling to give up the matter so, +ventured further to say that there were the Nazarites, spoken of in +Numbers vi. 5, upon whose heads, by the appointment of God, no razor +was to come. + +"Nay," said Mr. Wigglesworth, "that was by a special appointment only, +and proveth the general rule and practice." + +Uncle Rawson said that long hair might, he judged, be lawfully worn, +where the bodily health did require it, to guard the necks of weakly +people from the cold. + +"Where there seems plainly a call of nature for it," said Mr. +Wigglesworth, "as a matter of bodily comfort, and for the warmth of the +head and neck, it is nowise unlawful. But for healthy, sturdy young +people to make this excuse for their sinful vanity doth but add to their +condemnation. If a man go any whit beyond God's appointment and the +comfort of nature, I know not where he will stop, until he grows to be +the veriest ruffian in the world. It is a wanton and shameful thing for +a man to liken himself to a woman, by suffering his hair to grow, and +curling and parting it in a seam, as is the manner of too many. It +betokeneth pride and vanity, and causeth no small offence to godly, +sober people. + +"The time hath been," continued Mr. Wigglesworth, "when God's people +were ashamed of such vanities, both in the home country and in these +parts; but since the Bishops and the Papists have had their way, and +such as feared God are put down from authority, to give place to +scorners and wantons, there hath been a sad change." + +He furthermore spake of the gay apparel of the young women of Boston, +and their lack of plainness and modesty in the manner of wearing and +ordering their hair; and said he could in no wise agree with some of his +brethren in the ministry that this was a light matter, inasmuch as it +did most plainly appear from Scripture that the pride and haughtiness of +the daughters of Zion did provoke the judgments of the Lord, not only +upon them, but upon the men also. Now, the special sin of women is +pride and haughtiness, and that because they be generally more ignorant, +being the weaker vessel; and this sin venteth itself in their gesture, +their hair and apparel. Now, God abhors all pride, especially pride in +base things; and hence the conduct of the daughters of Zion does greatly +provoke his wrath, first against themselves, secondly their fathers and +husbands, and thirdly against the land they do inhabit. + +Rebecca here roguishly pinched my arm, saying apart that, after all, we +weaker vessels did seem to be of great consequence, and nobody could +tell but that our head-dresses would yet prove the ruin of the country. + + + +June 4 + +Robert Pike, coming into the harbor with his sloop, from the Pemaquid +country, looked in upon us yesterday. Said that since coming to the +town he had seen a Newbury man, who told him that old Mr. Wheelwright, +of Salisbury, the famous Boston minister in the time of Sir Harry Vane +and Madam Hutchinson, was now lying sick, and nigh unto his end. Also, +that Goodman Morse was so crippled by a fall in his barn, that he cannot +get to Boston to the trial of his wife, which is a sore affliction to +him. The trial of the witch is now going on, and uncle saith it looks +much against her, especially the testimony of the Widow Goodwin about +her child, and of John Gladding about seeing one half of the body of +Goody Morse flying about in the sun, as if she had been cut in twain, or +as if the Devil did hide the lower part of her. Robert Pike said such +testimony ought not to hang a cat, the widow being little more than a +fool; and as for the fellow Gladding, he was no doubt in his cups, for +he had often seen him in such a plight that he could not have told Goody +Morse from the Queen of Sheba. + + + +June 8. + +The Morse woman having been found guilty by the Court of Assistants, +she was brought out to the North Meeting, to hear the Thursday Lecture, +yesterday, before having her sentence. The house was filled with +people, they being curious to see the witch. The Marshal and the +constables brought her in, and set her in, front of the pulpit; the old +creature looking round her wildly, as if wanting her wits, and then +covering her face with her dark wrinkled hands; a dismal sight! The +minister took his text in Romans xiii. 3, 4, especially the last clause +of the 4th verse, relating to rulers: For he beareth not the sword in +vain, &c. He dwelt upon the power of the ruler as a Minister of God, +and as a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil; and showeth +that the punishment of witches and such as covenant with the Devil is +one of the duties expressly enjoined upon rulers by the Word of God, +inasmuch as a witch was not to be suffered to live. + +He then did solemnly address himself to the condemned woman, quoting 1 +Tim. v. 20: "Them that sin, rebuke before all, that others also may +fear." The woman was greatly moved, for no doubt the sharp words of the +preacher did prick her guilty conscience, and the terrors of hell did +take hold of her, so that she was carried out, looking scarcely alive. +They took her, when the lecture was over, to the Court, where the +Governor did pronounce sentence of death upon her. But uncle tells me +there be many who are stirring to get her respited for a time, at least, +and he doth himself incline to favor it, especially as Rebecca hath +labored much with him to that end, as also hath Major Pike and Major +Saltonstall with the Governor, who himself sent for uncle last night, +and they had a long talk together, and looked over the testimony against +the woman, and neither did feel altogether satisfied with it. Mr. +Norton adviseth for the hanging; but Mr. Willard, who has seen much of +the woman, and hath prayed with her in the jail, thinks she may be +innocent in the matter of witchcraft, inasmuch as her conversation was +such as might become a godly person in affliction, and the reading of +the Scripture did seem greatly to comfort her. + + + +June 9. + +Uncle Rawson being at the jail to-day, a messenger, who had been sent to +the daughter of Goody Morse, who is the wife of one Hate Evil Nutter, on +the Cocheco, to tell her that her mother did greatly desire to see her +once more before she was hanged, coming in, told the condemned woman +that her daughter bade him say to her, that inasmuch as she had sold +herself to the Devil, she did owe her no further love or service, and +that she could not complain of this, for as she had made her bed, so she +must lie. Whereat the old creature set up a miserable cry, saying that +to have her own flesh and blood turn against her was more bitter than +death itself. And she begged Mr. Willard to pray for her, that her +trust in the Lord might not be shaken by this new affliction. + + + +June 10. + +The condemned woman hath been reprieved by the Governor and the +Magistrates until the sitting of the Court in October. Many people, +both men and women, coming in from the towns about to see the hanging, +be sore disappointed, and do vehemently condemn the conduct of the +Governor therein. For mine own part, I do truly rejoice that mercy hath +been shown to the poor creature; for even if she is guilty, it affordeth +her a season for repentance; and if she be innocent, it saveth the land +from a great sin. The sorrowful look of the old creature at the Lecture +hath troubled me ever since, so forlorn and forsaken did she seem. +Major Pike (Robert's father), coming in this morning, says, next to the +sparing of Goody Morse's life, it did please him to see the bloodthirsty +rabble so cheated out of their diversion; for example, there was Goody +Matson, who had ridden bare-backed, for lack of a saddle, all the way +from Newbury, on Deacon Dole's hard-trotting horse, and was so galled +and lame of it that she could scarce walk. The Major said he met her at +the head of King Street yesterday, with half a score more of her sort, +scolding and railing about the reprieve of the witch, and prophesying +dreadful judgments upon all concerned in it. He said he bade her shut +her mouth and go home, where she belonged; telling her that if he heard +any more of her railing, the Magistrates should have notice of it, and +she would find that laying by the heels in the stocks was worse than +riding Deacon Dole's horse. + + + +June 14. + +Yesterday the wedding took place. It was an exceeding brave one; most +of the old and honored families being at it, so that the great house +wherein my uncle lives was much crowded. Among them were Governor +Broadstreet and many of the honorable Magistrates, with Mr. Saltonstall +and his worthy lady; Mr. Richardson, the Newbury minister, joining the +twain in marriage, in a very solemn and feeling manner. Sir Thomas was +richly apparelled, as became one of his rank, and Rebecca in her white +silk looked comely as an angel. She wore the lace collar I wrought for +her last winter, for my sake, although I fear me she had prettier ones +of her own working. The day was wet and dark, with an easterly wind +blowing in great gusts from the bay, exceeding cold for the season. + +Rebecca, or Lady Hale, as she is now called, had invited Robert Pike +to her wedding, but he sent her an excuse for not coming, to the effect +that urgent business did call him into the eastern country as far as +Monhegan and Pemaquid. His letter, which was full of good wishes for +her happiness and prosperity, I noted saddened Rebecca a good deal; and +she was, moreover, somewhat disturbed by certain things that did happen +yesterday: the great mirror in the hall being badly broken, and the +family arms hanging over the fire-place thrown down, so that it was +burned by the coals kindled on the hearth, on account of the dampness; +which were looked upon as ill signs by most people. Grindall, a +thoughtless youth, told his sister of the burning of the arms, and that +nothing was left save the head of the raven in the crest, at which she +grew very pale, and said it was strange, indeed, and, turning to me, +asked me if I did put faith in what was said of signs and prognostics. +So, seeing her troubled, I laughed at the matter, although I secretly +did look upon it as an ill omen, especially as I could never greatly +admire Sir Thomas. My brother's wife, who seemed fully persuaded that +he is an unworthy person, sent by me a message to Rebecca, to that +effect; but I had not courage to speak of it, as matters had gone so +far, and uncle and aunt did seem so fully bent upon making a great lady +of their daughter. + +The vessel in which we are to take our passage is near upon ready for +the sea. The bark is a London one, called "The Three Brothers," and is +commanded by an old acquaintance of Uncle Rawson. I am happy with the +thought of going home, yet, as the time of departure draws nigh, I do +confess some regrets at leaving this country, where I have been so +kindly cared for and entertained, and where I have seen so many new and +strange things. The great solemn woods, as wild and natural as they +were thousands of years ago, the fierce suns of the summer season and +the great snows of the winter, and the wild beasts, and the heathen +Indians,--these be things the memory whereof will over abide with me. +To-day the weather is again clear and warm, the sky wonderfully bright; +the green leaves flutter in the wind, and the birds are singing sweetly. +The waters of the bay, which be yet troubled by the storm of last night, +are breaking in white foam on the rocks of the main land, and on the +small islands covered with trees and vines; and many boats and sloops +going out with the west wind, to their fishing, do show their white +sails in the offing. How I wish I had skill to paint the picture of all +this for my English friends! My heart is pained, as I look upon it, +with the thought that after a few days I shall never see it more. + + + +June 18. + +To-morrow we embark for home. Wrote a long letter to my dear brother +and sister, and one to my cousins at York. Mr. Richardson hath just +left us, having come all the way from Newbury to the wedding. The +excellent Governor Broadstreet hath this morning sent to Lady Hale a +handsome copy of his first wife's book, entitled "Several Poems by a +Gentlewoman of New England," with these words on the blank page thereof, +from Proverbs xxxi. 30, "A woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be +praised," written in the Governor's own hand. All the great folks +hereabout have not failed to visit my cousin since her marriage; but I +do think she is better pleased with some visits she hath had from poor +widows and others who have been in times past relieved and comforted by +her charities and kindness, the gratitude of these people affecting her +unto tears. Truly it may be said of her, as of Job: "When the ear heard +her then it blessed her, and when the eye saw her it gave witness to +her: because she delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and +him that had none to help him. The blessing of him that was ready to +perish came upon her; and she caused the widow's heart to sing for joy." + +(Here the diary ends somewhat abruptly. It appears as if some of the +last pages have been lost. Appended to the manuscript I find a note, in +another handwriting, signed "R. G.," dated at Malton Rectory, 1747. One +Rawson Grindall, M. A., was curate of Malton at this date, and the +initials are undoubtedly his. The sad sequel to the history of the fair +Rebecca Rawson is confirmed by papers now on file in the State-House at +Boston, in which she is spoken of as "one of the most beautiful, polite, +and accomplished young ladies in Boston."--Editor.) + +"These papers of my honored and pious grandmother, Margaret Smith, who, +soon after her return from New England, married her cousin, Oliver +Grindall, Esq., of Hilton Grange, Crowell, in Oxfordshire (both of whom +have within the last ten years departed this life, greatly lamented by +all who knew them), having cone into my possession, I have thought it +not amiss to add to them a narrative of what happened to her friend and +cousin, as I have had the story often from her own lips. + +"It appears that the brave gallant calling himself Sir Thomas Hale, +for all his fair seething and handsome address, was but a knave and +impostor, deceiving with abominable villany Rebecca Rawson and most of +her friends (although my grandmother was never satisfied with him, as is +seen in her journal). When they got, to London, being anxious, on +account of sea-sickness and great weariness, to leave the vessel as soon +as possible, they went ashore to the house of a kinsman to lodge, +leaving their trunks and clothing on board. Early on the next morning, +he that called himself Sir Thomas left his wife, taking with him the +keys of her trunks, telling her he would send them up from the vessel in +season for her to dress for dinner. The trunks came, as he said, but +after waiting impatiently for the keys until near the dinner-hour, and +her husband not returning, she had them broken open, and, to her grief +and astonishment, found nothing therein but shavings and other +combustible matter. Her kinsman forthwith ordered his carriage, and +went with her to the inn where they first stopped on landing from the +vessel, where she inquired for Sir Thomas Hale. The landlord told her +there was such a gentleman, but he had not seen him for some days. +'But he was at your house last night,' said the astonished young woman. +'He is my husband, and I was with him.' The landlord then said that one +Thomas Rumsey was at his house, with a young lady, the night before, but +she was not his lawful wife, for he had one already in Kent. At this +astounding news, the unhappy woman swooned outright, and, being taken +back to her kinsman's, she lay grievously ill for many days, during +which time, by letters from Kent, it was ascertained that this Rumsey +was a graceless young spendthrift, who had left his wife and his two +children three years before, and gone to parts unknown. + +"My grandmother, who affectionately watched over her, and comforted her +in her great affliction, has often told me that, on coming to herself, +her poor cousin said it was a righteous judgment upon her, for her pride +and vanity, which had led her to discard worthy men for one of great +show and pretensions, who had no solid merit to boast of. She had +sinned against God, and brought disgrace upon her family, in choosing +him. She begged that his name might never be mentioned again in her +hearing, and that she might only be known as a poor relative of her +English kinsfolk, and find a home among them until she could seek out +some employment for her maintenance, as she could not think of going +back to Boston, to become the laughing-stock of the thoughtless and the +reproach of her father's family. + +"After the marriage of my grandmother, Rebecca was induced to live with +her for some years. My great-aunt, Martha Grindall, an ancient +spinster, now living, remembers her well at that time, describing her as +a young woman of a sweet and gentle disposition, and much beloved by all +the members of the family. Her father, hearing of her misfortunes, +wrote to her, kindly inviting her to return to New England, and live +with him, and she at last resolved to do so. My great-uncle, Robert, +having an office under the government at Port Royal, in the island of +Jamaica, she went out with him, intending to sail from thence to Boston. +From that place she wrote to my grandmother a letter, which I have also +in my possession, informing her of her safe arrival, and of her having +seen an old friend, Captain Robert Pike, whose business concerns had +called him to the island, who had been very kind and considerate in his +attention to her, offering to take her home in his vessel, which was to +sail in a few days. She mentions, in a postscript to her letter, that +she found Captain Pike to be much improved in his appearance and +manners,--a true natural gentleman; and she does not forget to notice +the fact that he was still single. She had, she said, felt unwilling to +accept his offer of a passage home, holding herself unworthy of such +civilities at his hands; but he had so pressed the matter that she had, +not without some misgivings, consented to it. + +"But it was not according to the inscrutable wisdom of Providence that +she should ever be restored to her father's house. Among the victims of +the great earthquake which destroyed Port Royal a few days after the +date of her letter, was this unfortunate lady. It was a heavy blow to +my grandmother, who entertained for her cousin the tenderest affection, +and, indeed, she seems to have been every way worthy of it,--lovely in +person, amiable in deportment, and of a generous and noble nature. She +was, especially after her great trouble, of a somewhat pensive and +serious habit of mind, contrasting with the playfulness and innocent +light-heartedness of her early life, as depicted in the diary of my +grandmother, yet she was ever ready to forget herself in ministering to +the happiness and pleasures of others. She was not, as I learn, a +member of the church, having some scruples in respect to the rituals, as +was natural from her education in New England, among Puritanic +schismatics; but she lived a devout life, and her quiet and +unostentatious piety exemplified the truth of the language of one of the +greatest of our divines, the Bishop of Down and Connor 'Prayer is the +peace of our spirit, the stillness of our thoughts, the issue of a quiet +mind, the daughter of charity, and the sister of meekness.' Optimus +animus est pulcherrimus Dei cultus. + +"R. G." + + + + + +TALES AND SKETCHES + + + + +MY SUMMER WITH DR. SINGLETARY. + +A FRAGMENT. + + + + +CHAPTER I. DR. SINGLETARY IS DEAD! + + +Well, what of it? All who live die sooner or later; and pray who was +Dr. Singletary, that his case should claim particular attention? + +Why, in the first place, Dr. Singletary, as a man born to our common +inheritance of joy and sorrow, earthly instincts and heavenward +aspirations,--our brother in sin and suffering, wisdom and folly, love, +and pride, and vanity,--has a claim upon the universal sympathy. +Besides, whatever the living man may have been, death has now invested +him with its great solemnity. He is with the immortals. For him the +dark curtain has been lifted. The weaknesses, the follies, and the +repulsive mental and personal idiosyncrasies which may have kept him +without the sphere of our respect and sympathy have now fallen off, and +he stands radiant with the transfiguration of eternity, God's child, our +recognized and acknowledged brother. + +Dr. Singletary is dead. He was an old man, and seldom, of latter years, +ventured beyond the precincts of his neighborhood. He was a single man, +and his departure has broken no circle of family affection. He was +little known to the public, and is now little missed. The village +newspaper simply appended to its announcement of his decease the +customary post mortem compliment, "Greatly respected by all who knew +him;" and in the annual catalogue of his alma mater an asterisk has been +added to his name, over which perchance some gray-haired survivor of his +class may breathe a sigh, as he calls up, the image of the fresh-faced, +bright-eyed boy, who, aspiring, hopeful, vigorous, started with him on +the journey of life,--a sigh rather for himself than for its unconscious +awakener. + +But, a few years have passed since he left us; yet already wellnigh all +the outward manifestations, landmarks, and memorials of the living man +have passed away or been removed. His house, with its broad, mossy roof +sloping down on one side almost to the rose-bushes and lilacs, and with +its comfortable little porch in front, where he used to sit of a +pleasant summer afternoon, has passed into new hands, and has been sadly +disfigured by a glaring coat of white paint; and in the place of the +good Doctor's name, hardly legible on the corner-board, may now be seen, +in staring letters of black and gold, "VALENTINE ORSON STUBBS, M. D., +Indian doctor and dealer in roots and herbs." The good Doctor's old +horse, as well known as its owner to every man, woman, and child in the +village, has fallen into the new comer's hands, who (being prepared to +make the most of him, from the fact that he commenced the practice of +the healing art in the stable, rising from thence to the parlor) has +rubbed him into comparative sleekness, cleaned his mane and tail of the +accumulated burrs of many autumns, and made quite a gay nag of him. The +wagon, too, in which at least two generations of boys and girls have +ridden in noisy hilarity whenever they encountered it on their way to +school, has been so smartly painted and varnished, that if its former +owner could look down from the hill-slope where he lies, he would +scarcely know his once familiar vehicle as it whirls glittering along +the main road to the village. For the rest, all things go on as usual; +the miller grinds, the blacksmith strikes and blows, the cobbler and +tailor stitch and mend, old men sit in the autumn sun, old gossips stir +tea and scandal, revival meetings alternate with apple-bees and +bushings,--toil, pleasure, family jars, petty neighborhood quarrels, +courtship, and marriage,--all which make up the daily life of a country +village continue as before. The little chasm which his death has made +in the hearts of the people where he lived and labored seems nearly +closed up. There is only one more grave in the burying-ground,--that is +all. + +Let nobody infer from what I have said that the good man died +unlamented; for, indeed, it was a sad day with his neighbors when the +news, long expected, ran at last from house to house and from workshop +to workshop, "Dr. Singletary is dead!" + +He had not any enemy left among them; in one way or another he had been +the friend and benefactor of all. Some owed to his skill their recovery +from sickness; others remembered how he had watched with anxious +solicitude by the bedside of their dying relatives, soothing them, when +all human aid was vain, with the sweet consolations of that Christian +hope which alone pierces the great shadow of the grave and shows the +safe stepping-stones above the dark waters. The old missed a cheerful +companion and friend, who had taught them much without wounding their +pride by an offensive display of his superiority, and who, while making +a jest of his own trials and infirmities, could still listen with real +sympathy to the querulous and importunate complaints of others. For one +day, at least, even the sunny faces of childhood were marked with +unwonted thoughtfulness; the shadow of the common bereavement fell over +the play-ground and nursery. The little girl remembered, with tears, +how her broken-limbed doll had taxed the surgical ingenuity of her +genial old friend; and the boy showed sorrowfully to his playmates the +top which the good Doctor had given him. If there were few, among the +many who stood beside his grave, capable of rightly measuring and +appreciating the high intellectual and spiritual nature which formed the +background of his simple social life, all could feel that no common loss +had been sustained, and that the kindly and generous spirit which had +passed away from them had not lived to himself alone. + +As you follow the windings of one of the loveliest rivers of New +England, a few miles above the sea-mart, at its mouth, you can see on a +hill, whose grassy slope is checkered with the graceful foliage of the +locust, and whose top stands relieved against a still higher elevation, +dark with oaks and walnuts, the white stones of the burying-place. It +is a quiet spot, but without gloom, as befits "God's Acre." Below is +the village, with its sloops and fishing-boats at the wharves, and its +crescent of white houses mirrored in the water. Eastward is the misty +line of the great sea. Blue peaks of distant mountains roughen the +horizon of the north. Westward, the broad, clear river winds away into +a maze of jutting bluffs and picturesque wooded headlands. The tall, +white stone on the westerly slope of the hill bears the name of +"Nicholas Singletary, M. D.," and marks the spot which he selected many +years before his death. When I visited it last spring, the air about it +was fragrant with the bloom of sweet-brier and blackberry and the +balsamic aroma of the sweet-fern; birds were singing in the birch-trees +by the wall; and two little, brown-locked, merry-faced girls were making +wreaths of the dandelions and grasses which grew upon the old man's +grave. The sun was setting behind the western river-bluffs, flooding +the valley with soft light, glorifying every object and fusing all into +harmony and beauty. I saw and felt nothing to depress or sadden me. I +could have joined in the laugh of the children. The light whistle of a +young teamster, driving merrily homeward, did not jar upon my ear; for +from the transfigured landscape, and from the singing birds, and from +sportive childhood, and from blossoming sweetbrier, and from the grassy +mound before me, I heard the whisper of one word only, and that word +was PEACE. + + + + +CHAPTER. II. SOME ACCOUNT OF PEEWAWKIN ON THE TOCKETUCK. + +WELL and truly said the wise man of old, "Much study is a weariness to +the flesh." Hard and close application through the winter had left me +ill prepared to resist the baleful influences of a New England spring. +I shrank alike from the storms of March, the capricious changes of +April, and the sudden alternations of May, from the blandest of +southwest breezes to the terrible and icy eastern blasts which sweep our +seaboard like the fabled sanser, or wind of death. The buoyancy and +vigor, the freshness and beauty of life seemed leaving me. The flesh +and the spirit were no longer harmonious. I was tormented by a +nightmare feeling of the necessity of exertion, coupled with a sense of +utter inability. A thousand plans for my own benefit, or the welfare of +those dear to me, or of my fellow-men at large, passed before me; but I +had no strength to lay hold of the good angels and detain them until +they left their blessing. The trumpet sounded in my ears for the +tournament of life; but I could not bear the weight of my armor. In the +midst of duties and responsibilities which I clearly comprehended, I +found myself yielding to the absorbing egotism of sickness. I could +work only when the sharp rowels of necessity were in my sides. + +It needed not the ominous warnings of my acquaintance to convince me +that some decisive change was necessary. But what was to be done? A +voyage to Europe was suggested by my friends; but unhappily I reckoned +among them no one who was ready, like the honest laird of Dumbiedikes, +to inquire, purse in hand, "Will siller do it?" In casting about for +some other expedient, I remembered the pleasant old-fashioned village of +Peewawkin, on the Tocketuck River. A few weeks of leisure, country air, +and exercise, I thought might be of essential service to me. So I +turned my key upon my cares and studies, and my back to the city, and +one fine evening of early June the mail coach rumbled over Tocketuck +Bridge, and left me at the house of Dr. Singletary, where I had been +fortunate enough to secure bed and board. + +The little village of Peewawkin at this period was a well-preserved +specimen of the old, quiet, cozy hamlets of New England. No huge +factory threw its evil shadow over it; no smoking demon of an engine +dragged its long train through the streets; no steamboat puffed at its +wharves, or ploughed up the river, like the enchanted ship of the +Ancient Mariner,-- + + "Against the wind, against the tide, + Steadied with upright keel." + +The march of mind had not overtaken it. It had neither printing-press +nor lyceum. As the fathers had done before them, so did its inhabitants +at the time of my visit. There was little or no competition in their +business; there were no rich men, and none that seemed over-anxious to +become so. Two or three small vessels were annually launched from the +carpenters' yards on the river. It had a blacksmith's shop, with its +clang of iron and roar of bellows; a pottery, garnished with its coarse +earthen-ware; a store, where molasses, sugar, and spices were sold on +one side, and calicoes, tape, and ribbons on the other. Three or four +small schooners annually left the wharves for the St. George's and +Labrador fisheries. Just back of the village, a bright, noisy stream, +gushing out, like a merry laugh, from the walnut and oak woods which +stretched back far to the north through a narrow break in the hills, +turned the great wheel of a grist-mill, and went frolicking away, like a +wicked Undine, under the very windows of the brown, lilac-shaded house +of Deacon Warner, the miller, as if to tempt the good man's handsome +daughters to take lessons in dancing. At one end of the little +crescent-shaped village, at the corner of the main road and the green +lane to Deacon Warner's mill, stood the school-house,--a small, ill- +used, Spanish-brown building, its patched windows bearing unmistakable +evidence of the mischievous character of its inmates. At the other end, +farther up the river, on a rocky knoll open to all the winds, stood the +meeting-house,--old, two story, and full of windows,--its gilded +weathercock glistening in the sun. The bell in its belfry had been +brought from France by Skipper Evans in the latter part of the last +century. Solemnly baptized and consecrated to some holy saint, it had +called to prayer the veiled sisters of a convent, and tolled heavily in +the masses for the dead. At first some of the church felt misgivings as +to the propriety of hanging a Popish bell in a Puritan steeple-house; +but their objections were overruled by the minister, who wisely +maintained that if Moses could use the borrowed jewels and ornaments of +the Egyptians to adorn and beautify the ark of the Lord, it could not be +amiss to make a Catholic bell do service in an Orthodox belfry. The +space between the school and the meeting-house was occupied by some +fifteen or twenty dwellings, many-colored and diverse in age and +appearance. Each one had its green yard in front, its rose-bushes and +lilacs. Great elms, planted a century ago, stretched and interlocked +their heavy arms across the street. The mill-stream, which found its +way into the Tocketuek, near the centre of the village, was spanned by a +rickety wooden bridge, rendered picturesque by a venerable and gnarled +white-oak which hung over it, with its great roots half bared by the +water and twisted among the mossy stones of the crumbling abutment. + +The house of Dr. Singletary was situated somewhat apart from the main +street, just on the slope of Blueberry Will,--a great, green swell of +land, stretching far down from the north, and terminating in a steep +bluff at the river side. It overlooked the village and the river a long +way up and down. It was a brown-looking, antiquated mansion, built by +the Doctor's grandfather in the earlier days of the settlement. The +rooms were large and low, with great beams, scaly with whitewash, +running across them, scarcely above the reach of a tall man's head. +Great-throated fireplaces, filled with pine-boughs and flower-pots, gave +promise of winter fires, roaring and crackling in boisterous hilarity, +as if laughing to scorn the folly and discomfort of our modern stoves. +In the porch at the frontdoor were two seats, where the Doctor was +accustomed to sit in fine weather with his pipe and his book, or with +such friends as might call to spend a half hour with him. The lawn in +front had scarcely any other ornament than its green grass, cropped +short by the Doctor's horse. A stone wall separated it from the lane, +half overrun with wild hop, or clematis, and two noble rock-maples +arched over with their dense foliage the little red gate. Dark belts of +woodland, smooth hill pasture, green, broad meadows, and fields of corn +and rye, the homesteads of the villagers, were seen on one hand; while +on the other was the bright, clear river, with here and there a white +sail, relieved against bold, wooded banks, jutting rocks, or tiny +islands, dark with dwarf evergreens. It was a quiet, rural picture, +a happy and peaceful contrast to all I had looked upon for weary, +miserable months. It soothed the nervous excitement of pain and +suffering. I forgot myself in the pleasing interest which it awakened. +Nature's healing ministrations came to me through all my senses. I felt +the medicinal virtues of her sights, and sounds, and aromal breezes. +From the green turf of her hills and the mossy carpets of her woodlands +my languid steps derived new vigor and elasticity. I felt, day by day, +the transfusion of her strong life. + +The Doctor's domestic establishment consisted of Widow Matson, his +housekeeper, and an idle slip of a boy, who, when he was not paddling +across the river, or hunting in the swamps, or playing ball on the +"Meetin'-'us-Hill," used to run of errands, milk the cow, and saddle the +horse. Widow Matson was a notable shrill-tongued woman, from whom two +long suffering husbands had obtained what might, under the +circumstances, be well called a comfortable release. She was neat and +tidy almost to a fault, thrifty and industrious, and, barring her +scolding propensity, was a pattern housekeeper. For the Doctor she +entertained so high a regard that nothing could exceed her indignation +when any one save herself presumed to find fault with him. Her bark was +worse than her bite; she had a warm, woman's heart, capable of soft +relentings; and this the roguish errand-boy so well understood that he +bore the daily infliction of her tongue with a good-natured unconcern +which would have been greatly to his credit had it not resulted from his +confident expectation that an extra slice of cake or segment of pie +would erelong tickle his palate in atonement for the tingling of his +ears. + +It must be confessed that the Doctor had certain little peculiarities +and ways of his own which might have ruffled the down of a smoother +temper than that of the Widow Matson. He was careless and absent- +minded. In spite of her labors and complaints, he scattered his +superfluous clothing, books, and papers over his rooms in "much-admired +disorder." He gave the freedom of his house to the boys and girls of +his neighborhood, who, presuming upon his good nature, laughed at her +remonstrances and threats as they chased each other up and down the +nicely-polished stairway. Worse than all, he was proof against the +vituperations and reproaches with which she indirectly assailed him from +the recesses of her kitchen. He smoked his pipe and dozed over his +newspaper as complacently as ever, while his sins of omission and +commission were arrayed against him. + +Peewawkin had always the reputation of a healthy town: and if it had +been otherwise, Dr. Singletary was the last man in the world to +transmute the aches and ails of its inhabitants into gold for his own +pocket. So, at the age of sixty, he was little better off, in point of +worldly substance, than when he came into possession of the small +homestead of his father. He cultivated with his own hands his corn- +field and potato-patch, and trimmed his apple and pear trees, as well +satisfied with his patrimony as Horace was with his rustic Sabine villa. +In addition to the care of his homestead and his professional duties, +he had long been one of the overseers of the poor and a member of the +school committee in his town; and he was a sort of standing reference in +all disputes about wages, boundaries, and cattle trespasses in his +neighborhood. He had, nevertheless, a good deal of leisure for reading, +errands of charity, and social visits. He loved to talk with his +friends, Elder Staples, the minister, Deacon Warner, and Skipper Evans. +He was an expert angler, and knew all the haunts of pickerel and trout +for many miles around. His favorite place of resort was the hill back +of his house, which afforded a view of the long valley of the Tocketuck +and the great sea. Here he would sit, enjoying the calm beauty of the +landscape, pointing out to me localities interesting from their +historical or traditional associations, or connected in some way with +humorous or pathetic passages of his own life experience. Some of these +autobiographical fragments affected me deeply. In narrating them he +invested familiar and commonplace facts with something of the +fascination of romance. "Human life," he would say, "is the same +everywhere. If we could but get at the truth, we should find that all +the tragedy and comedy of Shakespeare have been reproduced in this +little village. God has made all of one blood; what is true of one man +is in some sort true of another; manifestations may differ, but the +essential elements and spring of action are the same. On the surface, +everything about us just now looks prosaic and mechanical; you see only +a sort of bark-mill grinding over of the same dull, monotonous grist of +daily trifles. But underneath all this there is an earnest life, rich +and beautiful with love and hope, or dark with hatred, and sorrow, and +remorse. That fisherman by the riverside, or that woman at the stream +below, with her wash-tub,--who knows what lights and shadows checker +their memories, or what present thoughts of theirs, born of heaven or +hell, the future shall ripen into deeds of good or evil? Ah, what have +I not seen and heard? My profession has been to me, in some sort, like +the vial genie of the Salamanca student; it has unroofed these houses, +and opened deep, dark chambers to the hearts of their tenants, which no +eye save that of God had ever looked upon. Where I least expected them, +I have encountered shapes of evil; while, on the other hand, I have +found beautiful, heroic love and self-denial in those who had seemed to +me frivolous and selfish." + +So would Dr. Singletary discourse as we strolled over Blueberry Hill, or +drove along the narrow willow-shaded road which follows the windings of +the river. He had read and thought much in his retired, solitary life, +and was evidently well satisfied to find in me a gratified listener. He +talked well and fluently, with little regard to logical sequence, and +with something of the dogmatism natural to one whose opinions had seldom +been subjected to scrutiny. He seemed equally at home in the most +abstruse questions of theology and metaphysics, and in the more +practical matters of mackerel-fishing, corn-growing, and cattle-raising. +It was manifest that to his book lore he had added that patient and +close observation of the processes of Nature which often places the +unlettered ploughman and mechanic on a higher level of available +intelligence than that occupied by professors and school men. To him +nothing which had its root in the eternal verities of Nature was "common +or unclean." The blacksmith, subjecting to his will the swart genii of +the mines of coal and iron; the potter, with his "power over the clay;" +the skipper, who had tossed in his frail fishing-smack among the +icebergs of Labrador; the farmer, who had won from Nature the occult +secrets of her woods and fields; and even the vagabond hunter and +angler, familiar with the habits of animals and the migration of birds +and fishes,--had been his instructors; and he was not ashamed to +acknowledge that they had taught him more than college or library. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE DOCTOR'S MATCH-MAKING. + +"GOOD-MORNING, Mrs. Barnet," cried the Doctor, as we drew near a neat +farm-house during one of our morning drives. + +A tall, healthful young woman, in the bloom of matronly beauty, was +feeding chickens at the door. She uttered an exclamation of delight and +hurried towards us. Perceiving a stranger in the wagon she paused, with +a look of embarrassment. + +"My friend, who is spending a few weeks with me," explained the Doctor. + +She greeted me civilly and pressed the Doctor's hand warmly. + +"Oh, it is so long since you have called on us that we have been talking +of going up to the village to see you, as soon as Robert can get away +from his cornfield. You don't know how little Lucy has grown. You must +stop and see her." + +"She's coming to see me herself," replied the Doctor, beckoning to a +sweet blue-eyed child in the door-way. + +The delighted mother caught up her darling and held her before the +Doctor. + +"Does n't she look like Robert?" she inquired. "His very eyes and +forehead! Bless me! here he is now." + +A stout, hale young farmer, in a coarse checked frock and broad straw +hat, came up from the adjoining field. + +"Well, Robert," said the Doctor, "how do matters now stand with you? +Well, I hope." + +"All right, Doctor. We've paid off the last cent of the mortgage, and +the farm is all free and clear. Julia and I have worked hard; but we're +none the worse for it." + +"You look well and happy, I am sure," said the Doctor. "I don't think +you are sorry you took the advice of the old Doctor, after all." + +The young wife's head drooped until her lips touched those of her child. + +"Sorry!" exclaimed her husband. "Not we! If there's anybody happier +than we are within ten miles of us. I don't know them. Doctor, I'll +tell you what I said to Julia the night I brought home that mortgage. +'Well,' said I, 'that debt's paid; but there's one debt we can never pay +as long as we live.' 'I know it,' says she; 'but Dr. Singletary wants +no better reward for his kindness than to see us live happily together, +and do for others what he has done for us.'" + +"Pshaw!" said the Doctor, catching up his reins and whip. "You owe me +nothing. But I must not forget my errand. Poor old Widow Osborne needs +a watcher to-night; and she insists upon having Julia Barnet, and nobody +else. What shall I tell her?" + +"I'll go, certainly. I can leave Lucy now as well as not." + +"Good-by, neighbors." + +"Good-by, Doctor." + +As we drove off I saw the Doctor draw his hand hastily across his eyes, +and he said nothing for some minutes. + +"Public opinion," said he at length, as if pursuing his meditations +aloud,--"public opinion is, in nine cases out of ten, public folly and +impertinence. We are slaves to one another. We dare not take counsel +of our consciences and affections, but must needs suffer popular +prejudice and custom to decide for us, and at their bidding are +sacrificed love and friendship and all the best hopes of our lives. We +do not ask, What is right and best for us? but, What will folks say of +it? We have no individuality, no self-poised strength, no sense of +freedom. We are conscious always of the gaze of the many-eyed tyrant. +We propitiate him with precious offerings; we burn incense perpetually +to Moloch, and pass through his fire the sacred first-born of our +hearts. How few dare to seek their own happiness by the lights which +God has given them, or have strength to defy the false pride and the +prejudice of the world and stand fast in the liberty of Christians! Can +anything be more pitiable than the sight of so many, who should be the +choosers and creators under God of their own spheres of utility and +happiness, self-degraded into mere slaves of propriety and custom, their +true natures undeveloped, their hearts cramped and shut up, each afraid +of his neighbor and his neighbor of him, living a life of unreality, +deceiving and being deceived, and forever walking in a vain show? Here, +now, we have just left a married couple who are happy because they have +taken counsel of their honest affections rather than of the opinions of +the multitude, and have dared to be true to themselves in defiance of +impertinent gossip." + +"You speak of the young farmer Barnet and his wife, I suppose?" said I. + +"Yes. I will give their case as an illustration. Julia Atkins was the +daughter of Ensign Atkins, who lived on the mill-road, just above Deacon +Warner's. When she was ten years old her mother died; and in a few +months afterwards her father married Polly Wiggin, the tailoress, a +shrewd, selfish, managing woman. Julia, poor girl! had a sorry time of +it; for the Ensign, although a kind and affectionate man naturally, was +too weak and yielding to interpose between her and his strong-minded, +sharp-tongued wife. She had one friend, however, who was always ready +to sympathize with her. Robert Barnet was the son of her next-door +neighbor, about two years older than herself; they had grown up together +as school companions and playmates; and often in my drives I used to +meet them coming home hand in hand from school, or from the woods with +berries and nuts, talking and laughing as if there were no scolding +step-mothers in the world. + +"It so fell out that when Julia was in her sixteenth year there came +a famous writing-master to Peewawkin. He was a showy, dashing fellow, +with a fashionable dress, a wicked eye, and a tongue like the old +serpent's when he tempted our great-grandmother. Julia was one of his +scholars, and perhaps the prettiest of them all. The rascal singled her +out from the first; and, the better to accomplish his purpose, he left +the tavern and took lodgings at the Ensign's. He soon saw how matters +stood in the family, and governed himself accordingly, taking special +pains to conciliate the ruling authority. The Ensign's wife hated young +Barnet, and wished to get rid of her step-daughter. The writing-master, +therefore, had a fair field. He flattered the poor young girl by his +attentions and praised her beauty. Her moral training had not fitted +her to withstand this seductive influence; no mother's love, with its +quick, instinctive sense of danger threatening its object, interposed +between her and the tempter. Her old friend and playmate--he who could +alone have saved her--had been rudely repulsed from the house by her +step-mother; and, indignant and disgusted, he had retired from all +competition with his formidable rival. Thus abandoned to her own +undisciplined imagination, with the inexperience of a child and the +passions of a woman, she was deceived by false promises, bewildered, +fascinated, and beguiled into sin. + +"It is the same old story of woman's confidence and man's duplicity. +The rascally writing-master, under pretence of visiting a neighboring +town, left his lodgings and never returned. The last I heard of him, +he was the tenant of a western penitentiary. Poor Julia, driven in +disgrace from her father's house, found a refuge in the humble dwelling +of an old woman of no very creditable character. There I was called to +visit her; and, although not unused to scenes of suffering and sorrow, I +had never before witnessed such an utter abandonment to grief, shame, +and remorse. Alas! what sorrow was like unto her sorrow? The birth +hour of her infant was also that of its death. + +"The agony of her spirit seemed greater than she could bear. Her eyes +were opened, and she looked upon herself with loathing and horror. She +would admit of no hope, no consolation; she would listen to no +palliation or excuse of her guilt. I could only direct her to that +Source of pardon and peace to which the broken and contrite heart never +appeals in vain. + +"In the mean time Robert Barnet shipped on board a Labrador vessel. The +night before he left he called on me, and put in my hand a sum of money, +small indeed, but all he could then command. + +"'You will see her often,' he said. 'Do not let her suffer; for she is +more to be pitied than blamed.' + +"I answered him that I would do all in my power for her; and added, that +I thought far better of her, contrite and penitent as she was, than of +some who were busy in holding her up to shame and censure. + +"'God bless you for these words!' he said, grasping my hand. 'I shall +think of them often. They will be a comfort to me.' + +"As for Julia, God was more merciful to her than man. She rose from her +sick-bed thoughtful and humbled, but with hopes that transcended the +world of her suffering and shame. She no longer murmured against her +sorrowful allotment, but accepted it with quiet and almost cheerful +resignation as the fitting penalty of God's broken laws and the needed +discipline of her spirit. She could say with the Psalmist, 'The +judgments of the Lord are true, justified in themselves. Thou art just, +O Lord, and thy judgment is right.' Through my exertions she obtained +employment in a respectable family, to whom she endeared herself by her +faithfulness, cheerful obedience, and unaffected piety. + +"Her trials had made her heart tender with sympathy for all in +affliction. She seemed inevitably drawn towards the sick and suffering. +In their presence the burden of her own sorrow seemed to fall off. She +was the most cheerful and sunny-faced nurse I ever knew; and I always +felt sure that my own efforts would be well seconded when I found her by +the bedside of a patient. Beautiful it was to see this poor young girl, +whom the world still looked upon with scorn and unkindness, cheering the +desponding, and imparting, as it were, her own strong, healthful life to +the weak and faint; supporting upon her bosom, through weary nights, the +heads of those who, in health, would have deemed her touch pollution; or +to hear her singing for the ear of the dying some sweet hymn of pious +hope or resignation, or calling to mind the consolations of the gospel +and the great love of Christ." + +"I trust," said I, "that the feelings of the community were softened +towards her." + +"You know what human nature is," returned the Doctor, "and with what +hearty satisfaction we abhor and censure sin and folly in others. It is +a luxury which we cannot easily forego, although our own experience +tells us that the consequences of vice and error are evil and bitter +enough without the aggravation of ridicule and reproach from without. +So you need not be surprised to learn that, in poor Julia's case, the +charity of sinners like herself did not keep pace with the mercy and +forgiveness of Him who is infinite in purity. Nevertheless, I will do +our people the justice to say that her blameless and self-sacrificing +life was not without its proper effect upon them." + +"What became of Robert Barnet?" I inquired. + +"He came back after an absence of several months, and called on me +before he had even seen his father and mother. He did not mention +Julia; but I saw that his errand with me concerned her. I spoke of her +excellent deportment and her useful life, dwelt upon the extenuating +circumstances of her error and of her sincere and hearty repentance. + +"'Doctor,' said he, at length, with a hesitating and embarrassed manner, +'what should you think if I should tell you that, after all that has +passed, I have half made up my mind to ask her to become my wife?' + +"'I should think better of it if you had wholly made up your mind,' said +I; 'and if you were my own son, I wouldn't ask for you a better wife +than Julia Atkins. Don't hesitate, Robert, on account of what some ill- +natured people may say. Consult your own heart first of all.' + +"'I don't care for the talk of all the busybodies in town,' said he; +'but I wish father and mother could feel as you do about her.' + +"'Leave that to me,' said I. 'They are kindhearted and reasonable, and +I dare say will be disposed to make the best of the matter when they +find you are decided in your purpose.' + +"I did not see him again; but a few days after I learned from his +parents that he had gone on another voyage. It was now autumn, and the +most sickly season I had ever known in Peewawkin. Ensign Atkins and his +wife both fell sick; and Julia embraced with alacrity this providential +opportunity to return to her father's house and fulfil the duties of a +daughter. Under her careful nursing the Ensign soon got upon his feet; +but his wife, whose constitution was weaker, sunk under the fever. She +died better than she had lived,--penitent and loving, asking forgiveness +of Julia for her neglect and unkindness, and invoking blessings on her +head. Julia had now, for the first time since the death of her mother, +a comfortable home and a father's love and protection. Her sweetness of +temper, patient endurance, and forgetfulness of herself in her labors +for others, gradually overcame the scruples and hard feelings of her +neighbors. They began to question whether, after all, it was +meritorious in them to treat one like her as a sinner beyond +forgiveness. Elder Staples and Deacon Warner were her fast friends. +The Deacon's daughters--the tall, blue-eyed, brown-locked girls you +noticed in meeting the other day--set the example among the young people +of treating her as their equal and companion. The dear good girls! +They reminded me of the maidens of Naxos cheering and comforting the +unhappy Ariadne. + +"One mid-winter evening I took Julia with me to a poor sick patient of +mine, who was suffering for lack of attendance. The house where she +lived was in a lonely and desolate place, some two or three miles below +us, on a sandy level, just elevated above the great salt marshes, +stretching far away to the sea. The night set in dark and stormy; a +fierce northeasterly wind swept over the level waste, driving thick +snow-clouds before it, shaking the doors and windows of the old house, +and roaring in its vast chimney. The woman was dying when we arrived, +and her drunken husband was sitting in stupid unconcern in the corner of +the fireplace. A little after midnight she breathed her last. + +"In the mean time the storm had grown more violent; there was a blinding +snow-fall in the air; and we could feel the jar of the great waves as +they broke upon the beach. + +"'It is a terrible night for sailors on the coast,' I said, breaking our +long silence with the dead. 'God grant them sea-room!' + +"Julia shuddered as I spoke, and by the dim-flashing firelight I saw she +was weeping. Her thoughts, I knew, were with her old friend and +playmate on the wild waters. + +"'Julia,' said I, 'do you know that Robert Barnet loves you with all the +strength of an honest and true heart?' + +"She trembled, and her voice faltered as she confessed that when Robert +was at home he had asked her to become his wife. + +"'And, like a fool, you refused him, I suppose?--the brave, generous +fellow!' + +"'O Doctor!' she exclaimed. 'How can you talk so? It is just because +Robert is so good, and noble, and generous, that I dared not take him at +his word. You yourself, Doctor, would have despised me if I had taken +advantage of his pity or his kind remembrance of the old days when we +were children together. I have already brought too much disgrace upon +those dear to me.' + +"I was endeavoring to convince her, in reply, that she was doing +injustice to herself and wronging her best friend, whose happiness +depended in a great measure upon her, when, borne on the strong blast, +we both heard a faint cry as of a human being in distress. I threw up +the window which opened seaward, and we leaned out into the wild night, +listening breathlessly for a repetition of the sound. + +"Once more, and once only, we heard it,--a low, smothered, despairing +cry. + +"'Some one is lost, and perishing in the snow,' said Julia. 'The sound +conies in the direction of the beach plum-bushes on the side of the +marsh. Let us go at once.' + +"She snatched up her hood and shawl, and was already at the door. I +found and lighted a lantern and soon overtook her. The snow was already +deep and badly drifted, and it was with extreme difficulty that we could +force our way against the storm. We stopped often to take breath and +listen; but the roaring of the wind and waves was alone audible. At +last we reached a slightly elevated spot, overgrown with dwarf plum- +trees, whose branches were dimly visible above the snow. + +"'Here, bring the lantern here!' cried Julia, who had strayed a few +yards from me. I hastened to her, and found her lifting up the body of +a man who was apparently insensible. The rays of the lantern fell full +upon his face, and we both, at the same instant, recognized Robert +Barnet. Julia did not shriek nor faint; but, kneeling in the snow, and +still supporting the body, she turned towards me a look of earnest and +fearful inquiry. + +"'Courage!' said I. 'He still lives. He is only overcome with fatigue +and cold.' + +"With much difficulty-partly carrying and partly dragging him through +the snow--we succeeded in getting him to the house, where, in a short +time, he so far recovered as to be able to speak. Julia, who had been +my prompt and efficient assistant in his restoration, retired into the +shadow of the room as soon as he began to rouse himself and look about +him. He asked where he was and who was with me, saying that his head +was so confused that he thought he saw Julia Atkins by the bedside. +'You were not mistaken,' said I; 'Julia is here, and you owe your life +to her.' He started up and gazed round the room. I beckoned Julia to +the bedside; and I shall never forget the grateful earnestness with +which he grasped her hand and called upon God to bless her. Some folks +think me a tough-hearted old fellow, and so I am; but that scene was +more than I could bear without shedding tears. + +"Robert told us that his vessel had been thrown upon the beach a mile or +two below, and that he feared all the crew had perished save himself. +Assured of his safety, I went out once more, in the faint hope of +hearing the voice of some survivor of the disaster; but I listened only +to the heavy thunder of the surf rolling along the horizon of the east. +The storm had in a great measure ceased; the gray light of dawn was just +visible; and I was gratified to see two of the nearest neighbors +approaching the house. On being informed of the wreck they immediately +started for the beach, where several dead bodies, half buried in snow, +confirmed the fears of the solitary survivor. + +"The result of all this you can easily conjecture. Robert Barnet +abandoned the sea, and, with the aid of some of his friends, purchased +the farm where he now lives, and the anniversary of his shipwreck found +him the husband of Julia. I can assure you I have had every reason to +congratulate myself on my share in the match-making. Nobody ventured to +find fault with it except two or three sour old busybodies, who, as +Elder Staples well says, 'would have cursed her whom Christ had +forgiven, and spurned the weeping Magdalen from the feet of her Lord.'" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. BY THE SPRING. + +IT was one of the very brightest and breeziest of summer mornings that +the Doctor and myself walked homeward from the town poor-house, where +he had always one or more patients, and where his coming was always +welcomed by the poor, diseased, and age-stricken inmates. Dark, +miserable faces of lonely and unreverenced age, written over with the +grim records of sorrow and sin, seemed to brighten at his approach as +with an inward light, as if the good man's presence had power to call +the better natures of the poor unfortunates into temporary ascendency. +Weary, fretful women--happy mothers in happy homes, perchance, half a +century before--felt their hearts warm and expand under the influence of +his kind salutations and the ever-patient good-nature with which he +listened to their reiterated complaints of real or imaginary suffering. +However it might be with others, he never forgot the man or the woman in +the pauper. There was nothing like condescension or consciousness in +his charitable ministrations; for he was one of the few men I have ever +known in whom the milk of human kindness was never soured by contempt +for humanity in whatever form it presented itself. Thus it was that his +faithful performance of the duties of his profession, however repulsive +and disagreeable, had the effect of Murillo's picture of St. Elizabeth +of Hungary binding up the ulcered limbs of the beggars. The moral +beauty transcended the loathsomeness of physical evil and deformity. + +Our nearest route home lay across the pastures and over Blueberry Hill, +just at the foot of which we encountered Elder Staples and Skipper +Evans, who had been driving their cows to pasture, and were now +leisurely strolling back to the village. We toiled together up the hill +in the hot sunshine, and, just on its eastern declivity, were glad to +find a white-oak tree, leaning heavily over a little ravine, from the +bottom of which a clear spring of water bubbled up and fed a small +rivulet, whose track of darker green might be traced far down the hill +to the meadow at its foot. + +A broad shelf of rock by the side of the spring, cushioned with mosses, +afforded us a comfortable resting-place. Elder Staples, in his faded +black coat and white neck-cloth, leaned his quiet, contemplative head on +his silver-mounted cane: right opposite him sat the Doctor, with his +sturdy, rotund figure, and broad, seamed face, surmounted by a coarse +stubble of iron-gray hair, the sharp and almost severe expression of his +keen gray eyes, flashing under their dark penthouse, happily relieved by +the softer lines of his mouth, indicative of his really genial and +generous nature. A small, sinewy figure, half doubled up, with his chin +resting on his rough palms, Skipper Evans sat on a lower projection of +the rock just beneath him, in an attentive attitude, as at the feet of +Gatnaliel. Dark and dry as one of his own dunfish on a Labrador flake, +or a seal-skin in an Esquimaux hut, he seemed entirely exempt from one +of the great trinity of temptations; and, granting him a safe +deliverance from the world and the devil, he had very little to fear +from the flesh. + +We were now in the Doctor's favorite place of resort, green, cool, +quiet, and sightly withal. The keen light revealed every object in the +long valley below us; the fresh west wind fluttered the oakleaves above; +and the low voice of the water, coaxing or scolding its way over bare +roots or mossy stones, was just audible. + +"Doctor," said I, "this spring, with the oak hanging over it, is, I +suppose, your Fountain of Bandusia. You remember what Horace says of +his spring, which yielded such cool refreshment when the dog-star had +set the day on fire. What a fine picture he gives us of this charming +feature of his little farm!" + +The Doctor's eye kindled. "I'm glad to see you like Horace; not merely +as a clever satirist and writer of amatory odes, but as a true lover of +Nature. How pleasant are his simple and beautiful descriptions of his +yellow, flowing Tiber, the herds and herdsmen, the harvesters, the grape +vintage, the varied aspects of his Sabine retreat in the fierce summer +heats, or when the snowy forehead of Soracte purpled in winter sunsets! +Scattered through his odes and the occasional poems which he addresses +to his city friends, you find these graceful and inimitable touches of +rural beauty, each a picture in itself." + +"It is long since I have looked at my old school-day companions, the +classics," said Elder Staples; "but I remember Horace only as a light, +witty, careless epicurean, famous for his lyrics in praise of Falernian +wine and questionable women." + +"Somewhat too much of that, doubtless," said the Doctor; "but to me +Horace is serious and profoundly suggestive, nevertheless. Had I laid +him aside on quitting college, as you did, I should perhaps have only +remembered such of his epicurean lyrics as recommended themselves to the +warns fancy of boyhood. Ah, Elder Staples, there was a time when the +Lyces and Glyceras of the poet were no fiction to us. They played +blindman's buff with us in the farmer's kitchen, sang with us in the +meeting-house, and romped and laughed with us at huskings and quilting- +parties. Grandmothers and sober spinsters as they now are, the change +in us is perhaps greater than in them." + +"Too true," replied the Elder, the smile which had just played over his +pale face fading into something sadder than its habitual melancholy. +"The living companions of our youth, whom we daily meet, are more +strange to us than the dead in yonder graveyard. They alone remain +unchanged!" + +"Speaking of Horace," continued the Doctor, in a voice slightly husky +with feeling, "he gives us glowing descriptions of his winter circles of +friends, where mirth and wine, music and beauty, charm away the hours, +and of summer-day recreations beneath the vine-wedded elms of the Tiber +or on the breezy slopes of Soracte; yet I seldom read them without a +feeling of sadness. A low wail of inappeasable sorrow, an undertone of +dirges, mingles with his gay melodies. His immediate horizon is bright +with sunshine; but beyond is a land of darkness, the light whereof is +darkness. It is walled about by the everlasting night. The skeleton +sits at his table; a shadow of the inevitable terror rests upon all his +pleasant pictures. He was without God in the world; he had no clear +abiding hope of a life beyond that which was hastening to a close. Eat +and drink, he tells us; enjoy present health and competence; alleviate +present evils, or forget them, in social intercourse, in wine, music, +and sensual indulgence; for to-morrow we must die. Death was in his +view no mere change of condition and relation; it was the black end of +all. It is evident that he placed no reliance on the mythology of his +time, and that he regarded the fables of the Elysian Fields and their +dim and wandering ghosts simply in the light of convenient poetic +fictions for illustration and imagery. Nothing can, in my view, be +sadder than his attempts at consolation for the loss of friends. +Witness his Ode to Virgil on the death of Quintilius. He tells his +illustrious friend simply that his calamity is without hope, +irretrievable and eternal; that it is idle to implore the gods to +restore the dead; and that, although his lyre may be more sweet than +that of Orpheus, he cannot reanimate the shadow of his friend nor +persuade 'the ghost-compelling god' to unbar the gates of death. He +urges patience as the sole resource. He alludes not unfrequently to his +own death in the same despairing tone. In the Ode to Torquatus,--one of +the most beautiful and touching of all he has written,--he sets before +his friend, in melancholy contrast, the return of the seasons, and of +the moon renewed in brightness, with the end of man, who sinks into the +endless dark, leaving nothing save ashes and shadows. He then, in the +true spirit of his philosophy, urges Torquatus to give his present hour +and wealth to pleasures and delights, as he had no assurance of +to-morrow." + +"In something of the same strain," said I, "Moschus moralizes on the +death of Bion:-- + + Our trees and plants revive; the rose + In annual youth of beauty glows; + But when the pride of Nature dies, + Man, who alone is great and wise, + No more he rises into light, + The wakeless sleeper of eternal night.'" + +"It reminds me," said Elder Staples, "of the sad burden of +Ecclesiastes, the mournfulest book of Scripture; because, while the +preacher dwells with earnestness upon the vanity and uncertainty of the +things of time and sense, he has no apparent hope of immortality to +relieve the dark picture. Like Horace, he sees nothing better than to +eat his bread with joy and drink his wine with a merry heart. It seems +to me the wise man might have gone farther in his enumeration of the +folly and emptiness of life, and pronounced his own prescription for the +evil vanity also. What is it but plucking flowers on the banks of the +stream which hurries us over the cataract, or feasting on the thin crust +of a volcano upon delicate meats prepared over the fires which are soon +to ingulf us? Oh, what a glorious contrast to this is the gospel of Him +who brought to light life and immortality! The transition from the +Koheleth to the Epistles of Paul is like passing from a cavern, where +the artificial light falls indeed upon gems and crystals, but is +everywhere circumscribed and overshadowed by unknown and unexplored +darkness, into the warm light and free atmosphere of day." + +"Yet," I asked, "are there not times when we all wish for some clearer +evidence of immortal life than has been afforded us; when we even turn +away unsatisfied from the pages of the holy book, with all the +mysterious problems of life pressing about us and clamoring for +solution, till, perplexed and darkened, we look up to the still heavens, +as if we sought thence an answer, visible or audible, to their +questionings? We want something beyond the bare announcement of the +momentous fact of a future life; we long for a miracle to confirm our +weak faith and silence forever the doubts which torment us." + +"And what would a miracle avail us at such times of darkness and strong +temptation?" said the Elder. "Have we not been told that they whom +Moses and the prophets have failed to convince would not believe +although one rose from the dead? That God has revealed no more to +us is to my mind sufficient evidence that He has revealed enough." + +"May it not be," queried the Doctor, "that Infinite Wisdom sees that a +clearer and fuller revelation of the future life would render us less +willing or able to perform our appropriate duties in the present +condition? Enchanted by a clear view of the heavenly hills, and of our +loved ones beckoning us from the pearl gates of the city of God, could +we patiently work out our life-task here, or make the necessary +exertions to provide for the wants of these bodies whose encumbrance +alone can prevent us from rising to a higher plane of existence?" + +"I reckon," said the Skipper, who had been an attentive, although at +times evidently a puzzled, listener, "that it would be with us pretty +much as it was with a crew of French sailors that I once shipped at the +Isle of France for the port of Marseilles. I never had better hands +until we hove in sight of their native country, which they had n't seen +for years. The first look of the land set 'em all crazy; they danced, +laughed, shouted, put on their best clothes; and I had to get new hands +to help me bring the vessel to her moorings." + +"Your story is quite to the point, Skipper," said the Doctor. "If +things had been ordered differently, we should all, I fear, be disposed +to quit work and fall into absurdities, like your French sailors, and so +fail of bringing the world fairly into port." + +"God's ways are best," said the Elder; "and I don't see as we can do +better than to submit with reverence to the very small part of them +which He has made known to us, and to trust Him like loving and dutiful +children for the rest." + + + + +CHAPTER V. THE HILLSIDE. + +THE pause which naturally followed the observation of the Elder was +broken abruptly by the Skipper. + +"Hillo!" he cried, pointing with the glazed hat with which he had been +fanning himself. "Here away in the northeast. Going down the coast for +better fishing, I guess." + +"An eagle, as I live!" exclaimed the Doctor, following with his cane the +direction of the Skipper's hat. "Just see how royally he wheels upward +and onward, his sail-broad wings stretched motionless, save an +occasional flap to keep up his impetus! Look! the circle in which he +moves grows narrower; he is a gray cloud in the sky, a point, a mere +speck or dust-mote. And now he is clean swallowed up in the distance. +The wise man of old did well to confess his ignorance of 'the way of an +eagle in the air.'" + +"The eagle," said Elder Staples, "seems to have been a favorite +illustration of the sacred penman. 'They that wait upon the Lord shall +renew their strength; they shall mount upward as on the wings of an +eagle.'" + +"What think you of this passage?" said the Doctor. "'As when a bird +hath flown through the air, there is no token of her way to be found; +but the light air, beaten with the stroke of her wings and parted by the +violent noise and motion thereof, is passed through, and therein +afterward no sign of her path can be found.' + +"I don't remember the passage," said the Elder. + +"I dare say not," quoth the Doctor. "You clergymen take it for granted +that no good thing can come home from the Nazareth of the Apocrypha. +But where will you find anything more beautiful and cheering than these +verses in connection with that which I just cited?--'The hope of the +ungodly is like dust that is blown away by the wind; like the thin foam +which is driven by the storm; like the smoke which is scattered here and +there by the whirlwind; it passeth away like the remembrance of a guest +that tarrieth but a day. But the righteous live forevermore; their +reward also is with the Lord, and the care of them with the Most High. +Therefore shall they receive a glorious kingdom and a beautiful crown +from the Lord's hand; for with his right hand shall He cover them, and +with his arm shall He protect them.'" + +"That, if I mistake not, is from the Wisdom of Solomon," said the Elder. +"It is a striking passage; and there are many such in the uncanonical +books." + +"Canonical or not," answered the Doctor, "it is God's truth, and stands +in no need of the endorsement of a set of well-meaning but purblind +bigots and pedants, who presumed to set metes and bounds to Divine +inspiration, and decide by vote what is God's truth and what is the +Devil's falsehood. But, speaking of eagles, I never see one of these +spiteful old sea-robbers without fancying that he may be the soul of a +mad Viking of the middle centuries. Depend upon it, that Italian +philosopher was not far out of the way in his ingenious speculations +upon the affinities and sympathies existing between certain men and +certain animals, and in fancying that he saw feline or canine traits and +similitudes in the countenances of his acquaintance." + +"Swedenborg tells us," said I, "that lost human souls in the spiritual +world, as seen by the angels, frequently wear the outward shapes of the +lower animals,--for instance, the gross and sensual look like swine, and +the cruel and obscene like foul birds of prey, such as hawks and +vultures,--and that they are entirely unconscious of the metamorphosis, +imagining themselves marvellous proper men,' and are quite well +satisfied with their company and condition." + +"Swedenborg," said the Elder, "was an insane man, or worse." + +"Perhaps so," said the Doctor; "but there is a great deal of 'method in +his madness,' and plain common sense too. There is one grand and +beautiful idea underlying all his revelations or speculations about the +future life. It is this: that each spirit chooses its own society, and +naturally finds its fitting place and sphere of action,--following in +the new life, as in the present, the leading of its prevailing loves and +desires,--and that hence none are arbitrarily compelled to be good or +evil, happy or miserable. A great law of attraction and gravitation +governs the spiritual as well as the material universe; but, in obeying +it, the spirit retains in the new life whatever freedom of will it +possessed in its first stage of being. But I see the Elder shakes his +head, as much as to say, I am 'wise above what is written,' or, at any +rate, meddling with matters beyond my comprehension. Our young friend +here," he continued, turning to me, "has the appearance of a listener; +but I suspect he is busy with his own reveries, or enjoying the fresh +sights and sounds of this fine morning. I doubt whether our discourse +has edified him." + +"Pardon me," said I; "I was, indeed, listening to another and older +oracle." + +"Well, tell us what you hear," said the Doctor. + +"A faint, low murmur, rising and falling on the wind. Now it comes +rolling in upon me, wave after wave of sweet, solemn music. There was a +grand organ swell; and now it dies away as into the infinite distance; +but I still hear it,--whether with ear or spirit I know not,--the very +ghost of sound." + +"Ah, yes," said the Doctor; "I understand it is the voice of the pines +yonder,--a sort of morning song of praise to the Giver of life and Maker +of beauty. My ear is dull now, and I cannot hear it; but I know it is +sounding on as it did when I first climbed up here in the bright June +mornings of boyhood, and it will sound on just the same when the +deafness of the grave shall settle upon my failing senses. Did it never +occur to you that this deafness and blindness to accustomed beauty and +harmony is one of the saddest thoughts connected with the great change +which awaits us? Have you not felt at times that our ordinary +conceptions of heaven itself, derived from the vague hints and Oriental +imagery of the Scriptures, are sadly inadequate to our human wants and +hopes? How gladly would we forego the golden streets and gates of +pearl, the thrones, temples, and harps, for the sunset lights of our +native valleys; the woodpaths, whose moss carpets are woven with violets +and wild flowers; the songs of birds, the low of cattle, the hum of bees +in the apple-blossom,--the sweet, familiar voices of human life and +nature! In the place of strange splendors and unknown music, should we +not welcome rather whatever reminded us of the common sights and sounds +of our old home?" + +"You touch a sad chord, Doctor," said I. "Would that we could feel +assured of the eternity of all we love!" + +"And have I not an assurance of it at this very moment?" returned the +Doctor. "My outward ear fails me; yet I seem to hear as formerly the +sound of the wind in the pines. I close my eyes; and the picture of my +home is still before me. I see the green hill slope and meadows; the +white shaft of the village steeple springing up from the midst of maples +and elms; the river all afire with sunshine; the broad, dark belt of +woodland; and, away beyond, all the blue level of the ocean. And now, +by a single effort of will, I can call before me a winter picture of the +same scene. It is morning as now; but how different! All night has the +white meteor fallen, in broad flake or minutest crystal, the sport and +plaything of winds that have wrought it into a thousand shapes of wild +beauty. Hill and valley, tree and fence, woodshed and well-sweep, barn +and pigsty, fishing-smacks frozen tip at the wharf, ribbed monsters of +dismantled hulks scattered along the river-side,--all lie transfigured +in the white glory and sunshine. The eye, wherever it turns, aches with +the cold brilliance, unrelieved save where. The blue smoke of morning +fires curls lazily up from the Parian roofs, or where the main channel +of the river, as yet unfrozen, shows its long winding line of dark water +glistening like a snake in the sun. Thus you perceive that the spirit +sees and hears without the aid of bodily organs; and why may it not be +so hereafter? Grant but memory to us, and we can lose nothing by death. +The scenes now passing before us will live in eternal reproduction, +created anew at will. We assuredly shall not love heaven the less that +it is separated by no impassable gulf from this fair and goodly earth, +and that the pleasant pictures of time linger like sunset clouds along +the horizon of eternity. When I was younger, I used to be greatly +troubled by the insecure tenure by which my senses held the beauty and +harmony of the outward world. When I looked at the moonlight on the +water, or the cloud-shadows on the hills, or the sunset sky, with the +tall, black tree-boles and waving foliage relieved against it, or when I +heard a mellow gush of music from the brown-breasted fife-bird in the +summer woods, or the merry quaver of the bobolink in the corn land, the +thought of an eternal loss of these familiar sights and sounds would +sometimes thrill through me with a sharp and bitter pain. I have reason +to thank God that this fear no longer troubles me. Nothing that is +really valuable and necessary for us can ever be lost. The present will +live hereafter; memory will bridge over the gulf between the two worlds; +for only on the condition of their intimate union can we preserve our +identity and personal consciousness. Blot out the memory of this world, +and what would heaven or hell be to us? Nothing whatever. Death would +be simple annihilation of our actual selves, and the substitution +therefor of a new creation, in which we should have no more interest +than in an inhabitant of Jupiter or the fixed stars." + +The Elder, who had listened silently thus far, not without an occasional +and apparently involuntary manifestation of dissent, here interposed. + +"Pardon me, my dear friend," said he; "but I must needs say that I look +upon speculations of this kind, however ingenious or plausible, as +unprofitable, and well-nigh presumptuous. For myself, I only know that +I am a weak, sinful man, accountable to and cared for by a just and +merciful God. What He has in reserve for me hereafter I know not, nor +have I any warrant to pry into His secrets. I do not know what it is to +pass from one life to another; but I humbly hope that, when I am sinking +in the dark waters, I may hear His voice of compassion and +encouragement, 'It is I; be not afraid.'" + +"Amen," said the Skipper, solemnly. + +"I dare say the Parson is right, in the main," said the Doctor. "Poor +creatures at the best, it is safer for us to trust, like children, in +the goodness of our Heavenly Father than to speculate too curiously in +respect to the things of a future life; and, notwithstanding all I have +said, I quite agree with good old Bishop Hall: 'It is enough for me to +rest in the hope that I shall one day see them; in the mean time, let me +be learnedly ignorant and incuriously devout, silently blessing the +power and wisdom of my infinite Creator, who knows how to honor himself +by all those unrevealed and glorious subordinations.'" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE SKIPPER'S STORY. + +"WELL, what's the news below?" asked the Doctor of his housekeeper, +as she came home from a gossiping visit to the landing one afternoon. +"What new piece of scandal is afloat now?" + +"Nothing, except what concerns yourself," answered Widow Matson, tartly. +"Mrs. Nugeon says that you've been to see her neighbor Wait's girl--she +that 's sick with the measles--half a dozen times, and never so much as +left a spoonful of medicine; and she should like to know what a doctor's +good for without physic. Besides, she says Lieutenant Brown would have +got well if you'd minded her, and let him have plenty of thoroughwort +tea, and put a split fowl at the pit of his stomach." + +"A split stick on her own tongue would be better," said the Doctor, +with a wicked grimace. + +"The Jezebel! Let her look out for herself the next time she gets the +rheumatism; I'll blister her from head to heel. But what else is +going?" + +"The schooner Polly Pike is at the landing." + +"What, from Labrador? The one Tom Osborne went in?" + +"I suppose so; I met Tom down street." + +"Good!" said the Doctor, with emphasis. "Poor Widow Osborne's prayers +are answered, and she will see her son before she dies." + +"And precious little good will it do her," said the housekeeper. +"There's not a more drunken, swearing rakeshame in town than Tom +Osborne." + +"It's too true," responded the Doctor. "But he's her only son; and you +know, Mrs. Matson, the heart of a mother." + +The widow's hard face softened; a tender shadow passed over it; the +memory of some old bereavement melted her; and as she passed into the +house I saw her put her checked apron to her eyes. + +By this time Skipper Evans, who had been slowly working his way up +street for some minutes, had reached the gate. + +"Look here!" said he. "Here's a letter that I've got by the Polly Pike +from one of your old patients that you gave over for a dead man long +ago." + +"From the other world, of course," said the Doctor. + +"No, not exactly, though it's from Labrador, which is about the last +place the Lord made, I reckon." + +"What, from Dick Wilson?" + +"Sartin," said the Skipper. + +"And how is he?" + +"Alive and hearty. I tell you what, Doctor, physicking and blistering +are all well enough, may be; but if you want to set a fellow up when +he's kinder run down, there's nothing like a fishing trip to Labrador, +'specially if he's been bothering himself with studying, and writing, +and such like. There's nothing like fish chowders, hard bunks, and sea +fog to take that nonsense out of him. Now, this chap," (the Skipper +here gave me a thrust in the ribs by way of designation,) "if I could +have him down with me beyond sunset for two or three months, would come +back as hearty as a Bay o' Fundy porpoise." + +Assuring him that I would like to try the experiment, with him as +skipper, I begged to know the history of the case he had spoken of. + +The old fisherman smiled complacently, hitched up his pantaloons, took a +seat beside us, and, after extracting a jack-knife from one pocket, and +a hand of tobacco from the other, and deliberately supplying himself +with a fresh quid, he mentioned, apologetically, that he supposed the +Doctor had heard it all before. + +"Yes, twenty times," said the Doctor; "but never mind; it's a good story +yet. Go ahead, Skipper." + +"Well, you see," said the Skipper, "this young Wilson comes down here +from Hanover College, in the spring, as lean as a shad in dog-days. He +had studied himself half blind, and all his blood had got into brains. +So the Doctor tried to help him with his poticary stuff, and the women +with their herbs; but all did no good. At last somebody advised him to +try a fishing cruise down East; and so he persuaded me to take him +aboard my schooner. I knew he'd be right in the way, and poor company +at the best, for all his Greek and Latin; for, as a general thing, I've +noticed that your college chaps swop away their common sense for their +larning, and make a mighty poor bargain of it. Well, he brought his +books with him, and stuck to them so close that I was afraid we should +have to slide him off the plank before we got half way to Labrador. So +I just told him plainly that it would n't do, and that if he 'd a mind +to kill himself ashore I 'd no objection, but he should n't do it aboard +my schooner. 'I'm e'en just a mind,' says I, 'to pitch your books +overboard. A fishing vessel's no place for 'em; they'll spoil all our +luck. Don't go to making a Jonah of yourself down here in your bunk, +but get upon deck, and let your books alone, and go to watching the sea, +and the clouds, and the islands, and the fog-banks, and the fishes, and +the birds; for Natur,' says I, don't lie nor give hearsays, but is +always as true as the Gospels.' + +"But 't was no use talking. There he'd lay in his bunk with his books +about him, and I had e'en a'most to drag him on deck to snuff the sea- +air. Howsomever, one day,--it was the hottest of the whole season,-- +after we left the Magdalenes, and were running down the Gut of Canso, we +hove in sight of the Gannet Rocks. Thinks I to myself, I'll show him +something now that he can't find in his books. So I goes right down +after him; and when we got on deck he looked towards the northeast, and +if ever I saw a chap wonder-struck, he was. Right ahead of us was a +bold, rocky island, with what looked like a great snow bank on its +southern slope; while the air was full overhead, and all about, of what +seemed a heavy fall of snow. The day was blazing hot, and there was n't +a cloud to be seen. + +"'What in the world, Skipper, does this mean?' says he. 'We're sailing +right into a snow-storm in dog-days and in a clear sky.' + +"By this time we had got near enough to hear a great rushing noise in +the air, every moment growing louder and louder. + +"'It's only a storm of gannets,' says I. + +"'Sure enough!' says he; 'but I wouldn't have believed it possible.' + +"When we got fairly off against the island I fired a gun at it: and such +a fluttering and screaming you can't imagine. The great snow-banks +shook, trembled, loosened, and became all alive, whirling away into the +air like drifts in a nor'wester. Millions of birds went up, wheeling +and zigzagging about, their white bodies and blacktipped wings crossing +and recrossing and mixing together into a thick grayish-white haze above +us. + +"'You're right, Skipper,' says Wilson to me; + + Nature is better than books.' + +"And from that time he was on deck as much as his health would allow of, +and took a deal of notice of everything new and uncommon. But, for all +that, the poor fellow was so sick, and pale, and peaking, that we all +thought we should have to heave him overboard some day or bury him in +Labrador moss." + +"But he did n't die after all, did he?" said I. + +"Die? No!" cried the Skipper; "not he!" + +"And so your fishing voyage really cured him?" + +"I can't say as it did, exactly," returned the Skipper, shifting his +quid from one cheek to the other, with a sly wink at the Doctor. "The +fact is, after the doctors and the old herb-women had given him up at +home, he got cured by a little black-eyed French girl on the Labrador +coast." + +"A very agreeable prescription, no doubt," quoth the Doctor, turning to +me. "How do you think it would suit your case?" + +"It does n't become the patient to choose his own nostrums," said I, +laughing. "But I wonder, Doctor, that you have n't long ago tested the +value of this by an experiment upon yourself." + +"Physicians are proverbially shy of their own medicines," said he. + +"Well, you see," continued the Skipper, "we had a rough run down the +Labrador shore; rainstorms and fogs so thick you could cut 'em up into +junks with your jack-knife. At last we reached a small fishing station +away down where the sun does n't sleep in summer, but just takes a bit +of a nap at midnight. Here Wilson went ashore, more dead than alive, +and found comfortable lodgings with a little, dingy French oil merchant, +who had a snug, warm house, and a garden patch, where he raised a few +potatoes and turnips in the short summers, and a tolerable field of +grass, which kept his two cows alive through the winter. The country +all about was dismal enough; as far as you could see there was nothing +but moss, and rocks, and bare hills, and ponds of shallow water, with +now and then a patch of stunted firs. But it doubtless looked pleasant +to our poor sick passenger, who for some days had been longing for land. +The Frenchman gave him a neat little room looking out on the harbor, all +alive with fishermen and Indians hunting seals; and to my notion no +place is very dull where you can see the salt-water and the ships at +anchor on it, or scudding over it with sails set in a stiff breeze, and +where you can watch its changes of lights and colors in fair and foul +weather, morning and night. The family was made up of the Frenchman, +his wife, and his daughter,--a little witch of a girl, with bright black +eyes lighting up her brown, good-natured face like lamps in a binnacle. +They all took a mighty liking to young Wilson, and were ready to do +anything for him. He was soon able to walk about; and we used to see +him with the Frenchman's daughter strolling along the shore and among +the mosses, talking with her in her own language. Many and many a time, +as we sat in our boats under the rocks, we could hear her merry laugh +ringing down to us. + +"We stayed at the station about three weeks; and when we got ready to +sail I called at the Frenchman's to let Wilson know when to come aboard. +He really seemed sorry to leave; for the two old people urged him to +remain with them, and poor little Lucille would n't hear a word of his +going. She said he would be sick and die on board the vessel, but that +if he stayed with them he would soon be well and strong; that they +should have plenty of milk and eggs for him in the winter; and he should +ride in the dog-sledge with her, and she would take care of him as if he +was her brother. She hid his cap and great-coat; and what with crying, +and scolding, and coaxing, she fairly carried her point. + +"'You see I 'm a prisoner,' says he; 'they won't let me go.' + +"'Well,' says I, 'you don't seem to be troubled about it. I tell you +what, young man,' says I, 'it's mighty pretty now to stroll round here, +and pick mosses, and hunt birds' eggs with that gal; but wait till +November comes, and everything freezes up stiff and dead except white +bears And Ingens, and there's no daylight left to speak of, and you 'll +be sick enough of your choice. You won't live the winter out; and it 's +an awful place to die in, where the ground freezes so hard that they +can't bury you.' + +"'Lucille says,' says he, 'that God is as near us in the winter as in +the summer. The fact is, Skipper, I've no nearer relative left in the +States than a married brother, who thinks more of his family and +business than of me; and if it is God's will that I shall die, I may as +well wait His call here as anywhere. I have found kind friends here; +they will do all they can for me; and for the rest I trust Providence.' + +"Lucille begged that I would let him stay; for she said God would hear +her prayers, and he would get well. I told her I would n't urge him any +more; for if I was as young as he was, and had such a pretty nurse to +take care of me, I should be willing to winter at the North Pole. +Wilson gave me a letter for his brother; and we shook hands, and I left +him. When we were getting under way he and Lucille stood on the +landing-place, and I hailed him for the last time, and made signs of +sending the boat for him. The little French girl understood me; she +shook her head, and pointed to her father's house; and then they both +turned back, now and then stopping to wave their handkerchiefs to us. I +felt sorry to leave him there; but for the life of me I could n't blame +him." + +"I'm sure I don't," said the Doctor. + +"Well, next year I was at Nitisquam Harbor; and, although I was doing +pretty well in the way of fishing, I could n't feel easy without running +away north to 'Brador to see what had become of my sick passenger. It +was rather early in the season, and there was ice still in the harbor; +but we managed to work in at last; when who should I see on shore but +young Wilson, so stout and hearty that I should scarcely have known, +him. He took me up to his lodgings and told me that he had never spent +a happier winter; that he was well and strong, and could fish and hunt +like a native; that he was now a partner with the Frenchman in trade, +and only waited the coming of the priest from the Magdalenes, on his +yearly visit to the settlements, to marry his daughter. Lucille was as +pretty, merry, and happy as ever; and the old Frenchman and his wife +seemed to love Wilson as if he was their son. I've never seen him +since; but he now writes me that he is married, and has prospered in +health and property, and thinks Labrador would be the finest country in +the world if it only had heavy timber-trees." + +"One cannot but admire," said the Doctor, "that wise and beneficent +ordination of Providence whereby the spirit of man asserts its power +over circumstances, moulding the rough forms of matter to its fine +ideal, bringing harmony out of discord,--coloring, warming, and lighting +up everything within the circle of its horizon. A loving heart carries +with it, under every parallel of latitude, the warmth and light of the +tropics. It plants its Eden in the wilderness and solitary place, and +sows with flowers the gray desolation of rocks and mosses. Wherever +love goes, there springs the true heart's-ease, rooting itself even in +the polar ices. To the young invalid of the Skipper's story, the dreary +waste of what Moore calls, as you remember, + + 'the dismal shore + Of cold and pitiless Labrador,' + +looked beautiful and inviting; for he saw it softened and irradiated in +an atmosphere of love. Its bare hills, bleak rocks, and misty sky were +but the setting and background of the sweetest picture in the gallery of +life. Apart from this, however, in Labrador, as in every conceivable +locality, the evils of soil and climate have their compensations and +alleviations. The long nights of winter are brilliant with moonlight, +and the changing colors of the northern lights are reflected on the +snow. The summer of Labrador has a beauty of its own, far unlike that +of more genial climates, but which its inhabitants would not forego for +the warm life and lavish luxuriance of tropical landscapes. The dwarf +fir-trees throw from the ends of their branches yellow tufts of stamina, +like small lamps decorating green pyramids for the festival of spring; +and if green grass is in a great measure wanting, its place is supplied +by delicate mosses of the most brilliant colors. The truth is, every +season and climate has its peculiar beauties and comforts; the +footprints of the good and merciful God are found everywhere; and we +should be willing thankfully to own that 'He has made all things +beautiful in their time' if we were not a race of envious, selfish, +ungrateful grumblers." + +"Doctor! Doctor!" cried a ragged, dirty-faced boy, running breathless +into the yard. + +"What's the matter, my lad?" said the Doctor. + +"Mother wants you to come right over to our house. Father's tumbled off +the hay-cart; and when they got him up he didn't know nothing; but they +gin him some rum, and that kinder brought him to." + +"No doubt, no doubt," said the Doctor, rising to go. "Similia similibus +curantur. Nothing like hair of the dog that bites you." + +"The Doctor talks well," said the Skipper, who had listened rather +dubiously to his friend's commentaries on his story; "but he carries too +much sail for me sometimes, and I can't exactly keep alongside of him. +I told Elder. Staples once that I did n't see but that the Doctor could +beat him at preaching. 'Very likely,' says the Elder, says he; 'for you +know, Skipper, I must stick to my text; but the Doctor's Bible is all +creation.'" + +"Yes," said the Elder, who had joined us a few moments before, "the +Doctor takes a wide range, or, as the farmers say, carries a wide swath, +and has some notions of things which in my view have as little +foundation in true philosophy as they have warrant in Scripture; but, +if he sometimes speculates falsely, he lives truly, which is by far +the most important matter. The mere dead letter of a creed, however +carefully preserved and reverently cherished, may be of no more +spiritual or moral efficacy than an African fetish or an Indian +medicine-bag. What we want is, orthodoxy in practice,--the dry bones +clothed with warm, generous, holy life. It is one thing to hold fast +the robust faith of our fathers,--the creed of the freedom-loving +Puritan and Huguenot,--and quite another to set up the five points of +Calvinism, like so many thunder-rods, over a bad life, in the insane +hope of averting the Divine displeasure from sin." + + + + + +THE LITTLE IRON SOLDIER + +OR, WHAT AMINADAB IVISON DREAMED ABOUT. + + +AMINADAB IVISON started up in his bed. The great clock at the head of +the staircase, an old and respected heirloom of the family, struck one. + +"Ah," said he, heaving up a great sigh from the depths of his inner man, +"I've had a tried time of it." + +"And so have I," said the wife. "Thee's been kicking and threshing +about all night. I do wonder what ails thee." + +And well she might; for her husband, a well-to-do, portly, middle-aged +gentleman, being blessed with an easy conscience, a genial temper, and a +comfortable digestion, was able to bear a great deal of sleep, and +seldom varied a note in the gamut of his snore from one year's end to +another. + +"A very remarkable exercise," soliloquized Aminadab; "very." + +"Dear me! what was it?" inquired his wife. + +"It must have been a dream," said Aminadab. + +"Oh, is that all?" returned the good woman. "I'm glad it's nothing +worse. But what has thee been dreaming about?" + +"It's the strangest thing, Hannah, that thee ever heard of," said +Aminadab, settling himself slowly back into his bed. Thee recollects +Jones sent me yesterday a sample of castings from the foundry. Well, I +thought I opened the box and found in it a little iron man, in +regimentals; with his sword by his side and a cocked hat on, looking +very much like the picture in the transparency over neighbor O'Neal's +oyster-cellar across the way. I thought it rather out of place for +Jones to furnish me with such a sample, as I should not feel easy to +show it to my customers, on account of its warlike appearance. However, +as the work was well done, I took the little image and set him up on the +table, against the wall; and, sitting down opposite, I began to think +over my business concerns, calculating how much they would increase in +profit in case a tariff man should be chosen our ruler for the next four +years. Thee knows I am not in favor of choosing men of blood and strife +to bear rule in the land: but it nevertheless seems proper to consider +all the circumstances in this case, and, as one or the other of the +candidates of the two great parties must be chosen, to take the least of +two evils. All at once I heard a smart, quick tapping on the table; +and, looking up, there stood the little iron man close at my elbow, +winking and chuckling. 'That's right, Aminadab!' said he, clapping his +little metal hands together till he rang over like a bell, 'take the +least of two evils.' His voice had a sharp, clear, jingling sound, like +that of silver dollars falling into a till. It startled me so that I +woke up, but finding it only a dream presently fell asleep again. Then +I thought I was down in the Exchange, talking with neighbor Simkins +about the election and the tariff. 'I want a change in the +administration, but I can't vote for a military chieftain,' said +neighbor Simkins, 'as I look upon it unbecoming a Christian people to +elect men of blood for their rulers.' 'I don't know,' said I, 'what +objection thee can have to a fighting man; for thee 's no Friend, and +has n't any conscientious scruples against military matters. For my own +part, I do not take much interest in politics, and never attended a +caucus in my life, believing it best to keep very much in the quiet, and +avoid, as far as possible, all letting and hindering things; but there +may be cases where a military man may be voted for as a choice of evils, +and as a means of promoting the prosperity of the country in business +matters.' 'What!' said neighbor Simkins, 'are you going to vote for a +man whose whole life has been spent in killing people?' This vexed me a +little, and I told him there was such a thing as carrying a good +principle too far, and that he night live to be sorry that he had thrown +away his vote, instead of using it discreetly. 'Why, there's the iron +business,' said I; but just then I heard a clatter beside me, and, +looking round, there was the little iron soldier clapping his hands in +great glee. 'That's it, Aminadab!' said he; 'business first, conscience +afterwards! Keep up the price of iron with peace if you can, but keep +it up at any rate.' This waked me again in a good deal of trouble; but, +remembering that it is said that 'dreams come of the multitude of +business,' I once more composed myself to sleep." + +"Well, what happened next?" asked his wife. + +"Why, I thought I was in the meeting-house, sitting on the facing-seat +as usual. I tried hard to settle my mind down into a quiet and humble +state; but somehow the cares of the world got uppermost, and, before I +was well aware of it, I was far gone in a calculation of the chances of +the election, and the probable rise in the price of iron in the event of +the choice of a President favorable to a high tariff. Rap, tap, went +something on the floor. I opened my eyes, and there was the little +image, red-hot, as if just out of the furnace, dancing, and chuckling, +and clapping his hands. 'That's right, Aminadab!' said he; 'go on as +you have begun; take care of yourself in this world, and I'll promise +you you'll be taken care of in the next. Peace and poverty, or war and +money. It's a choice of evils at best; and here's Scripture to decide +the matter: "Be not righteous overmuch."' Then the wicked-looking +little image twisted his hot lips, and leered at me with his blazing +eyes, and chuckled and laughed with a noise exactly as if a bag of +dollars had been poured out upon the meeting-house floor. This waked me +just now in such a fright. I wish thee would tell me, Hannah, what thee +can make of these three dreams?" + +"It don't need a Daniel to interpret them," answered Hannah. "Thee 's +been thinking of voting for a wicked old soldier, because thee cares +more for thy iron business than for thy testimony against wars and +fightings. I don't a bit wonder at thy seeing the iron soldier thee +tells of; and if thee votes to-morrow for a man of blood, it wouldn't be +strange if he should haunt thee all thy life." + +Aminadab Ivison was silent, for his conscience spoke in the words of his +wife. He slept no more that night, and rose up in the morning a wiser +and better man. + +When he went forth to his place of business he saw the crowds hurrying +to and fro; there were banners flying across the streets, huge placards +were on the walls, and he heard all about him the bustle of the great +election. + +"Friend Ivison," said a red-faced lawyer, almost breathless with his +hurry, "more money is needed in the second ward; our committees are +doing a great work there. What shall I put you down for? Fifty +dollars? If we carry the election, your property will rise twenty per +cent. Let me see; you are in the iron business, I think?" + +Aminadab thought of the little iron soldier of his dream, and excused +himself. Presently a bank director came tearing into his office. + +"Have you voted yet, Mr. Ivison? It 's time to get your vote in. I +wonder you should be in your office now. No business has so much at +stake in this election as yours." + +"I don't think I should feel entirely easy to vote for the candidate," +said Aminadab. + +"Mr. Ivison," said the bank director, "I always took you to be a shrewd, +sensible man, taking men and things as they are. The candidate may not +be all you could wish for; but when the question is between him and a +worse man, the best you can do is to choose the least of the two evils." + +"Just so the little iron man said," thought Aminadab. "'Get thee behind +me, Satan!' No, neighbor Discount," said he, "I've made up my mind. I +see no warrant for choosing evil at all. I can't vote for that man." + +"Very well," said the director, starting to leave the room; "you can do +as you please; but if we are defeated through the ill-timed scruples of +yourself and others, and your business pinches in consequence, you need +n't expect us to help men who won't help themselves. Good day, sir." + +Aminadab sighed heavily, and his heart sank within him; but he thought +of his dream, and remained steadfast. Presently he heard heavy steps +and the tapping of a cane on the stairs; and as the door opened he saw +the drab surtout of the worthy and much-esteemed friend who sat beside +him at the head of the meeting. + +"How's thee do, Aminadab?" said he. "Thee's voted, I suppose?" + +"No, Jacob," said he; "I don't like the candidate. I can't see my way +clear to vote for a warrior." + +"Well, but thee does n't vote for him because he is a warrior, +Aminadab," argued the other; "thee votes for him as a tariff man and an +encourager of home industry. I don't like his wars and fightings better +than thee does; but I'm told he's an honest man, and that he disapproves +of war in the abstract, although he has been brought up to the business. +If thee feels tender about the matter, I don't like to urge thee; but it +really seems to me thee had better vote. Times have been rather hard, +thou knows; and if by voting at this election we can make business +matters easier, I don't see how we can justify ourselves in staying at +home. Thou knows we have a command to be diligent in business as well +as fervent in spirit, and that the Apostle accounted him who provided +not for his own household worse than an infidel. I think it important +to maintain on all proper occasions our Gospel testimony against wars +and fightings; but there is such a thing as going to extremes, thou +knows, and becoming over-scrupulous, as I think thou art in this case. +It is said, thou knows, in Ecclesiastes, 'Be not righteous overmuch: why +shouldst thou destroy thyself?'" + +"Ah," said Aminadab to himself, "that's what the little iron soldier +said in meeting." So he was strengthened in his resolution, and the +persuasions of his friend were lost upon him. + +At night Aminadab sat by his parlor fire, comfortable alike in his inner +and his outer man. "Well, Hannah," said he, "I've taken thy advice. I +did n't vote for the great fighter to-day." + +"I'm glad of it," said the good woman, "and I dare say thee feels the +better for it." + +Aminadab Ivison slept soundly that night, and saw no more of the little +iron soldier. + + + + +PASSACONAWAY. (1833.) + + I know not, I ask not, what guilt's in thy heart, But I feel + that I love thee, whatever thou art. + Moor. + +THE township of Haverhill, on the Merrimac, contained, in the autumn of +1641, the second year of its settlement, but six dwelling-houses, +situated near each other, on the site of the present village. They were +hastily constructed of rude logs, small and inconvenient, but one remove +from the habitations of the native dwellers of the wilderness. Around +each a small opening had been made through the thick forest, down to the +margin of the river, where, amidst the charred and frequent stumps and +fragments of fallen trees, the first attempts at cultivation had been +made. A few small patches of Indian corn, which had now nearly reached +maturity, exhibited their thick ears and tasselled stalks, bleached by +the frost and sunshine; and, here and there a spot of yellow stubble, +still lingering among the rough incumbrances of the soil, told where a +scanty crop of common English grain had been recently gathered. Traces +of some of the earlier vegetables were perceptible, the melon, the pea, +and the bean. The pumpkin lay ripening on its frosted vines, its sunny +side already changed to a bright golden color; and the turnip spread out +its green mat of leaves in defiance of the season. Everything around +realized the vivid picture of Bryant's Emigrant, who: + + "Hewed the dark old woods away, + And gave the virgin fields to the day + And the pea and the bean beside the door + Bloomed where such flowers ne'er bloomed before; + And the maize stood up, and the bearded rye + Bent low in the breath of an unknown sky." + +Beyond, extended the great forest, vast, limitless, unexplored, whose +venerable trees had hitherto bowed only to the presence of the storm, +the beaver's tooth, and the axe of Time, working in the melancholy +silence of natural decay. Before the dwellings of the white +adventurers, the broad Merrimac rolled quietly onward the piled-up +foliage of its shores, rich with the hues of a New England autumn. +The first sharp frosts, the avant couriers of approaching winter, had +fallen, and the whole wilderness was in blossom. It was like some vivid +picture of Claude Lorraine, crowded with his sunsets and rainbows, a +natural kaleidoscope of a thousand colors. The oak upon the hillside +stood robed in summer's greenness, in strong contrast with the topaz- +colored walnut. The hemlock brooded gloomily in the lowlands, forming, +with its unbroken mass of shadow, a dark background for the light maple +beside it, bright with its peculiar beauty. The solemn shadows of the +pine rose high in the hazy atmosphere, checkered, here and there, with +the pale yellow of the birch. + +"Truly, Alice, this is one of God's great marvels in the wilderness," +said John Ward, the minister, and the original projector of the +settlement, to his young wife, as they stood in the door of their humble +dwelling. "This would be a rare sight for our friends in old Haverhill. +The wood all about us hath, to my sight, the hues of the rainbow, when, +in the words of the wise man, it compasseth the heavens as with a +circle, and the hands of the Most High have bended it. Very beautifully +hath He indeed garnished the excellent works of His wisdom." + +"Yea, John," answered Alice, in her soft womanly tone; "the Lord is, +indeed, no respecter of persons. He hath given the wild savages a more +goodly show than any in Old England. Yet, John, I am sometimes very +sorrowful, when I think of our old home, of the little parlor where you +and I used to sit of a Sunday evening. The Lord hath been very +bountiful to this land, and it may be said of us, as it was said of +Israel of old, 'How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob! and thy tabernacles, +O Israel!' But the people sit in darkness, and the Gentiles know not +the God of our fathers." + +"Nay," answered her husband, "the heathen may be visited and redeemed, +the spirit of the Lord may turn unto the Gentiles; but a more sure evil +hath arisen among us. I tell thee, Alice, it shall be more tolerable in +the day of the Lord, for the Tyre and Sidon, the Sodom and Gomorrah of +the heathen, than for the schemers, the ranters, the Familists, and the +Quakers, who, like Satan of old, are coming among the sons of God." + +"I thought," said Alice, "that our godly governor had banished these out +of the colony." + +"Truly he hath," answered Mr. Ward, "but the evil seed they have sown +here continues to spring up and multiply. The Quakers have, indeed, +nearly ceased to molest us; but another set of fanatics, headed by +Samuel Gorton, have of late been very troublesome. Their family has +been broken up, and the ring-leaders have been sentenced to be kept at +hard labor for the colony's benefit; one being allotted to each of the +old towns, where they are forbidden to speak on matters of religion. +But there are said to be many still at large, who, under the +encouragement of the arch-heretic, Williams, of the Providence +plantation, are even now zealously doing the evil work of their master. +But, Alice," he continued, as he saw his few neighbors gathering around +a venerable oak which had been spared in the centre of the clearing, "it +is now near our time of worship. Let us join our friends." + +And the minister and his wife entered into the little circle of their +neighbors. No house of worship, with spire and tower, and decorated +pulpit, had as yet been reared on the banks of the Merrimac. The stern +settlers came together under the open heavens, or beneath the shadow of +the old trees, to kneel before that God, whose works and manifestations +were around them. + +The exercises of the Sabhath commenced. A psalm of the old and homely +version was sung, with true feeling, if not with a perfect regard to +musical effect and harmony. The brief but fervent prayer was offered, +and the good man had just announced the text for his sermon, when a +sudden tramp of feet, and a confused murmur of human voices, fell on the +ears of the assembly. + +The minister closed his Bible; and the whole group crowded closer +together. "It is surely a war party of the heathen," said Mr. Ward, as +he listened intently to the approaching sound. "God grant they mean us +no evil!" + +The sounds drew nearer. The swarthy figure of an Indian came gliding +through the brush-wood into the clearing, followed closely by several +Englishmen. In answer to the eager inquiries of Mr. Ward, Captain +Eaton, the leader of the party, stated that he had left Boston at +the command of Governor Winthrop, to secure and disarm the sachem, +Passaconaway, who was suspected of hostile intentions towards the +whites. They had missed of the old chief, but had captured his son, +and were taking him to the governor as a hostage for the good faith of +his father. He then proceeded to inform Mr. Ward, that letters had been +received from the governor of the settlements of Good Hoop and Piquag, +in Connecticut, giving timely warning of a most diabolical plot of the +Indians to cut off their white neighbors, root and branch. He pointed +out to the notice of the minister a member of his party as one of the +messengers who had brought this alarming intelligence. + +He was a tall, lean man, with straight, lank, sandy hair, cut evenly all +around his narrow forehead, and hanging down so as to remind one of +Smollett's apt similitude of "a pound of candles." + +"What news do you bring us of the savages?" inquired Mr. Ward. + +"The people have sinned, and the heathen are the instruments whereby the +Lord hath willed to chastise them," said the messenger, with that +peculiar nasal inflection of voice, so characteristic of the "unco' +guid." "The great sachem, Miantonimo, chief of the Narragansetts, hath +plotted to cut off the Lord's people, just after the time of harvest, to +slay utterly old and young, both maids and little children." + +"How have ye known this?" asked the minister. + +"Even as Paul knew of those who had bound themselves together with a +grievous oath to destroy him. The Lord hath done it. One of the bloody +heathens was dreadfully gored by the oxen of our people, and, being in +great bodily pain and tribulation thereat, he sent for Governor Haines, +and told him that the Englishman's god was angry with him for concealing +the plot to kill his people, and had sent the Englishman's cow to kill +him." + +"Truly a marvellous providence," said Mr. Ward; "but what has been done +in your settlements in consequence of it?" + +"We have fasted many days," returned the other, in a tone of great +solemnity, "and our godly men have besought the Lord that he might now, +as of old, rebuke Satan. They have, moreover, diligently and earnestly +inquired, Whence cometh this evil? Who is the Achan in the camp of our +Israel? It hath been greatly feared that the Quakers and the Papists +have been sowing tares in the garden of the true worship. We have +therefore banished these on pain of death; and have made it highly penal +for any man to furnish either food or lodging to any of these heretics +and idolaters. We have ordered a more strict observance of the Sabbath +of the Lord, no, one being permitted to walk or run on that day, except +to and from public worship, and then, only in a reverent and becoming +manner; and no one is allowed to cook food, sweep the house, shave or +pare the nails, or kiss a child, on the day which is to be kept holy. +We have also framed many wholesome laws, against the vanity and +licentiousness of the age, in respect to apparel and deportment, and +have forbidden any young man to kiss a maid during the time of +courtship, as, to their shame be it said, is the manner of many in the +old lands." + +"Ye have, indeed, done well for the spiritual," said Mr. Ward; "what +have you done for your temporal defence?" + +"We have our garrisons and our captains, and a goodly store of carnal +weapons," answered the other. "And, besides, we have the good chief +Uncas, of the Mohegans, to help us against the bloody Narragansetts." + +"But, my friend," said the minister, addressing Captain Eaton, "there +must be surely some mistake about Passaconaway. I verily believe him to +be the friend of the white men. And this is his son Wonolanset? I saw +him last year, and remember that he was the pride of the old savage, his +father. I will speak to him, for I know something of his barbarous +tongue." + +"Wonolanset!" + +The young savage started suddenly at the word, and rolled his keen +bright eye upon the speaker. + +"Why is the son of the great chief bound by my brothers?" + +The Indian looked one instant upon the cords which confined his arms, +and then glanced fiercely upon his conductors. + +"Has the great chief forgotten his white friends? Will he send his +young men to take their scalps when the Narragansett bids him?" + +The growl of the young bear when roused from his hiding-place is not +more fierce and threatening than were the harsh tones of Wonolanset as +he uttered through his clenched teeth:-- + +"Nummus quantum." + +"Nay, nay," said Mr. Ward, turning away from the savage, "his heart is +full of bitterness; he says he is angry, and, verily, I like not his +bearing. I fear me there is evil on foot. But ye have travelled far, +and must needs be weary rest yourselves awhile, and haply, while ye +refresh your bodies, I may also refresh your spirits with wholesome and +comfortable doctrines." + +The party having acquiesced in this proposal, their captive was secured +by fastening one end of his rope to a projecting branch of the tree. +The minister again named his text, but had only proceeded to the minuter +divisions of his sermon, when he was again interrupted by a loud, clear +whistle from the river, and a sudden exclamation of surprise from those +around him. A single glance sufficed to show him the Indian, disengaged +from his rope, and in full retreat. + +Eaton raised his rifle to his eye, and called out to the young sachem, +in his own language, to stop, or he would fire upon him. The Indian +evidently understood the full extent of his danger. He turned suddenly +about, and, pointing, up the river towards the dwelling of his father, +pronounced with a threatening gesture:-- + +"Nosh, Passaconaway!" + +"Hold!" exclaimed Mr. Ward, grasping the arm of Eaton. "He threatens us +with his father's vengeance. For God's sake keep your fire!" It was too +late. The report of the rifle broke sharply upon the Sabbath stillness. +It was answered by a shout from the river, and a small canoe, rowed by +an Indian and a white man, was seen darting along the shore. Wonolanset +bounded on unharmed, and, plunging into the river, he soon reached the +canoe, which was hastily paddled to the opposite bank. Captain Eaton +and his party finding it impossible to retake their prisoner, after +listening to the sermon of Mr. Ward, and partaking of some bodily +refreshment, took their leave of the settlers of Pentucket, and departed +for Boston. + +The evening, which followed the day whose events we have narrated, was +one of those peculiar seasons of beauty when the climate of New England +seems preferable to that of Italy. The sun went down in the soft haze +of the horizon, while the full moon was rising at the same time in the +east. Its mellow silver mingled with the deep gold of the sunset. The +south-west wind, as warm as that of summer, but softer, was heard, at +long intervals, faintly harping amidst the pines, and blending its low +sighing with the lulling murmurs of the river. The inhabitants of +Pentucket had taken the precaution, as night came on, to load their +muskets carefully, and place them in readiness for instant use, in the +event of an attack from the savages. Such an occurrence, was, indeed, +not unlikely, after the rude treatment which the son of old Passaconaway +had received at the settlement. It was well known that the old chief +was able, at a word, to send every warrior from Pennacook to Naumkeag +upon the war-path of Miantonimo; the vengeful character of the Indians +was also understood; and, in the event of an out-breaking of their +resentment, the settlement of Pentucket was, of all others, the most +exposed to danger. + +"Don't go to neighbor Clements's to-night, Mary," said Alice Ward to her +young, unmarried sister; "I'm afraid some of the tawny Indians may be +lurking hereabout. Mr. Ward says he thinks they will be dangerous +neighbors for us." + +Mary had thrown her shawl over her head, and was just stepping out. +"It is but a step, as it were, and I promised good-wife Clements that I +would certainly come. I am not afraid of the Indians. There's none of +them about here except Red Sam, who wanted to buy me of Mr. Ward for his +squaw; and I shall not be afraid of my old spark." + +The girl tripped lightly from the threshold towards the dwelling of her +neighbor. She had passed nearly half the distance when the pathway, +before open to the moonlight, began to wind along the margin of the +river, overhung with young sycamores and hemlocks. With a beating heart +and a quickened step she was stealing through the shadow, when the +boughs on the river-side were suddenly parted, and a tall man sprang +into the path before her. Shrinking back with terror, she uttered a +faint scream. + +"Mary Edmands!" said the stranger, "do not fear me." + +A thousand thoughts wildly chased each other through the mind of the +astonished girl. That familiar voice--that knowledge of her name--that +tall and well-remembered form! She leaned eagerly forward, and looked +into the stranger's face. A straggling gleam of moonshine fell across +its dark features of manly beauty. + +"Richard Martin! can it be possible!" + +"Yea, Mary," answered the other, "I have followed thee to the new world, +in that love which neither sea nor land can abate. For many weary +months I have waited earnestly for such a meeting as this, and, in that +time, I have been in many and grievous perils by the flood and the +wilderness, and by the heathen Indians and more heathen persecutors +among my own people. But I may not tarry, nor delay to tell my errand. +Mary, thou knowest my love; wilt thou be my wife?" + +Mary hesitated. + +"I ask thee again, if thou wilt share the fortunes of one who hath loved +thee ever since thou wast but a child, playing under the cottage trees +in old Haverhill, and who hath sacrificed his worldly estate, and +perilled his soul's salvation for thy sake. Mary, dear Mary, for of a +truth thou art very dear to me; wilt thou go with me and be my wife?" + +The tones of Richard Martin, usually harsh and forbidding, now fell soft +and musical on the ear of Mary. He was her first love, her only one. +What marvel that she consented? + +"Let us hasten to depart," said Martin, "this is no place for me. We +will go to the Providence plantations. Passaconaway will assist us in +our journey." + +The bright flush of hope and joy faded from the face of the young girl. +She started back from the embrace of her lover. + +"What mean you, Richard? What was 't you said about our going to that +sink of wickedness at Providence? Why don't you go back with me to +sister Ward's?" + +"Mary Edmands!" said Martin, in a tone of solemn sternness, "it is +fitting that I should tell thee all. I have renounced the evil +doctrines of thy brother-in-law, and his brethren in false prophecy. It +was a hard struggle, Mary; the spirit was indeed willing, but the flesh +was weak, exceeding weak, for I thought of thee, Mary, and of thy +friends. But I had a measure of strength given me, whereby I have been +enabled to do the work which was appointed me." + +"Oh, Richard!" said Mary, bursting into tears, "I'm afraid you have +become a Williamsite, one of them, who, Mr. Ward says, have nothing to +hope for in this world or in that to come." + +"The Lord rebuke him!" said Martin, with a loud voice. "Woe to such as +speak evil of the witnesses of the truth. I have seen the utter +nakedness of the land of carnal professors, and I have obeyed the call +to come out from among them and be separate. I belong to that +persecuted family whom the proud priests and rulers of this colony have +driven from their borders. I was brought, with many others, before the +wicked magistrates of Boston, and sentenced to labor, without hire, for +the ungodly. But I have escaped from my bonds; and the Lord has raised +up a friend for his servant, even the Indian Passaconaway, whose son I +assisted, but a little time ago, to escape from his captors." + +"Can it be?" sobbed Mary, "can it be? Richard, our own Richard, +following the tribe of Gorton, the Familist! Oh, Richard, if you love +me, if you love God's people and his true worship, do come away from +those wicked fanatics." + +"Thou art in the very gall of bitterness and the bond of iniquity," +answered Martin. "Listen, Mary Edmands, to the creed of those whom thou +callest fanatics. We believe in Christ, but not in man-worship. The +Christ we reverence is the shadow or image of God in man; he was +crucified in Adam of old, and hath been crucified in all men since; his +birth, his passion, and his death, were but manifestations or figures of +his sufferings in Adam and his descendants. Faith and Christ are the +same, the spiritual image of God in the heart. We acknowledge no rule +but this Christ, this faith within us, either in temporal or spiritual +things. And the Lord hath blessed us, and will bless us, and truth +shall be magnified and exalted in us; and the children of the heathen +shall be brought to know and partake of this great redemption whereof we +testify. But woe to the false teachers, and to them who prophesy for +hire and make gain of their soothsaying. Their churches are the devices +of Satan, the pride and vanity of the natural Adam. Their baptism is +blasphemy; and their sacrament is an abomination, yea, an incantation +and a spell. Woe to them who take the shadow for the substance, that +bow down to the altars of human device and cunning workmanship, that +make idols of their ceremonies! Woe to the high priests and the +Pharisees, and the captains and the rulers; woe to them who love the +wages of unrighteousness!" + +The Familist paused from utter exhaustion, so vehemently had he poured +forth the abundance of his zeal. Mary Edmands, overwhelmed by his +eloquence, but still unconvinced, could only urge the disgrace and +danger attending his adherence to such pernicious doctrines. She +concluded by telling him, in a voice choked by tears, that she could +never marry him while a follower of Gorton. + +"Stay then," said Martin, fiercely dashing her hand from his, "stay and +partake of the curse of the ungodly, even of the curse of Meroz, who +come not up to the help of the Lord, against the mighty Stay, till the +Lord hath made a threshing instrument of the heathen, whereby the pride +of the rulers, and the chief priests, and the captains of this land +shall be humbled. Stay, till the vials of His wrath are poured out upon +ye, and the blood of the strong man, and the maid, and the little child +is mingled together!" + +The wild language, the fierce tones and gestures of her lover, terrified +the unhappy girl. She looked wildly around her, all was dark and +shadowy, an undefined fear of violence came over her; and, bursting into +tears, she turned to fly. "Stay yet a moment," said Martin, in a hoarse +and subdued voice. He caught hold of her arm. She shrieked as if in +mortal jeopardy. + +"Let go the gal, let her go!" said old Job Clements, thrusting the long +barrel of his gun through the bushes within a few feet of the head of +the Familist. "A white man, as sure as I live! I thought, sartin, 't +was a tarnal In-in." Martin relinquished his hold, and, the next +instant, found himself surrounded by the settlers. + +After a brief explanation had taken place between Mr. Ward and his +sister-in-law, the former came forward and accosted the Familist. +"Richard Martin!" he said, "I little thought to see thee so soon in the +new world, still less to see thee such as thou art. I am exceeding +sorry that I cannot greet thee here as a brother, either in a temporal +or a spiritual nature. My sister tells me that you are a follower of +that servant of Satan, Samuel Gorton, and that you have sought to entice +her away with you to the colony of fanatics at Rhode Island, which may +be fitly compared to that city which Philip of Macedonia peopled with +rogues and vagabonds, and the offscouring of the whole earth." + +"John Ward, I know thee," said the unshrinking Familist; "I know thee +for a man wise above what is written, a man vain, uncharitable, and +given to evil speaking. I value neither thy taunts nor thy wit; for the +one hath its rise in the bitterness, and the other in the vanity, of the +natural Adam. Those who walk in the true light, and who have given over +crucifying Christ in their hearts, heed not a jot of the reproaches and +despiteful doings of the high and mighty in iniquity. For of us it hath +been written: 'I have given them thy word and the world hath hated them +because they are not of the world. If the world hate you, ye know that +it hated me before it hated you. If they have hated me they will hate +you also; if they have persecuted me they will persecute you.' And, of +the scoffers and the scorners, the wise ones of this world, whose wisdom +and knowledge have perverted them, and who have said in their hearts, +There is none beside them, it hath been written, yea, and will be +fulfilled: The day of the Lord of Hosts shall be upon every one that is +proud and lofty, and upon every one that is lifted up, and he shall be +brought low; and the loftiness of man shall be bowed down, and the +haughtiness of man shall be brought low; and the Lord alone shall be +exalted in that day; and the idols shall he utterly abolish.' Of thee, +John Ward, and of thy priestly brotherhood, I ask nothing; and for the +much evil I have received, and may yet receive at your hands, may ye be +rewarded like Alexander the coppersmith, every man according to his +works." + +"Such damnable heresy," said Mr. Ward, addressing his neighbors, "must +not be permitted to spread among the people. My friends, we must send +this man to the magistrates." + +The Familist placed his hands to his month, and gave a whistle, similar +to that which was heard in the morning, and which preceded the escape of +Wonolanset. It was answered by a shout from the river; and a score of +Indians came struggling up through the brush-wood. + +"Vile heretic!" exclaimed Mr. Ward, snatching a musket from the hands of +his neighbor, and levelling it full at the head of Martin; "you have +betrayed us into this jeopardy." + +"Wagh! down um gun," said a powerful Indian, as he laid his rough hand +on the shoulder of the minister. "You catch Wonolanset, tie um, shoot +um, scare squaw. Old sachem come now, me tie white man, shoot um, roast +um;" and the old savage smiled grimly and fiercely in the indistinct +moonlight, as he witnessed the alarm and terror of his prisoner. + +"Hold, Passaconaway!" said Martin, in the Indian tongue. "Will the +great chief forget his promise?" + +The sachem dropped his hold on Mr. Ward's arm. "My brother is good," he +said; "me no kill um, me make um walk woods like Wonolanset." Martin +spoke a few words in the chief's ear. The countenance of the old +warrior for an instant seemed to express dissatisfaction; but, yielding +to the powerful influence which the Familist had acquired over him, he +said, with some reluctance, "My brother is wise, me do so." + +"John Ward," said the Familist, approaching the minister, "thou hast +devised evil against one who hath never injured thee. But I seek not +carnal revenge. I have even now restrained the anger of this heathen +chief whom thou and thine have wronged deeply. Let us part in peace, +for we may never more meet in this world." And he extended his hand and +shook that of the minister. + +"For thee, Mary," he said, "I had hoped to pluck thee from the evil +which is to come, even as a brand from the burning. I had hoped to lead +thee to the manna of true righteousness, but thou last chosen the flesh- +pots of Egypt. I had hoped to cherish thee always, but thou hast +forgotten me and my love, which brought me over the great waters for thy +sake. I will go among the Gentiles, and if it be the Lord's will, +peradventure I may turn away their wrath from my people. When my +wearisome pilgrimage is ended, none shall know the grave of Richard +Martin; and none but the heathen shall mourn for him. Mary! I forgive +thee; may the God of all mercies bless thee! I shall never see thee +more." + +Hot and fast fell the tears of that stern man upon the hand of Mary. +The eyes of the young woman glanced hurriedly over the faces of her +neighbors, and fixed tearfully upon that of her lover. A thousand +recollections of young affection, of vows and meetings in another land, +came vividly before her. Her sister's home, her brother's instructions, +her own strong faith, and her bitter hatred of her lover's heresy were +all forgotten. + +"Richard, dear Richard, I am your Mary as much as ever I was. I'll go +with you to the ends of the earth. Your God shall be my God, and where +you are buried there will I be also." + +Silent in the ecstasy of joyful surprise, the Familist pressed her to +his bosom. Passaconaway, who had hitherto been an unmoved spectator of +the scene, relaxed the Indian gravity of his features, and murmured, in +an undertone, "Good, good." + +"Will my brother go?" he inquired, touching Martin's shoulder; "my +squaws have fine mat, big wigwam, soft samp, for his young woman." + +"Mary," said Martin, "the sachem is impatient; and we must needs go with +him." Mary did not answer, but her head was reclined upon his bosom, +and the Familist knew that she resigned herself wholly to his direction. +He folded the shawl more carefully around her, and supported her down +the precipitous and ragged bank of the river, followed closely by +Passaconaway and his companions. + +"Come back, Mary Edmands!" shouted Mr. Ward. "In God's name come back." + +Half a dozen canoes shot out into the clear moonlight from the shadow of +the shore. "It is too late!" said the minister, as he struggled down to +the water's edge. "Satan hath laid his hands upon her; but I will +contend for her, even as did Michael of old for the body of Moses. +Mary, sister Mary, for the love of Christ, answer me." + +No sound came back from the canoes, which glided like phantoms, +noiselessly and swiftly, through the still waters of the river. +"The enemy hath prevailed," said Mr. Ward; "two women were grinding at +my mill, the one is taken and the other is left. Let us go home, my +friends, and wrestle in prayer against the Tempter." + +The heretic and his orthodox bride departed into the thick wilderness, +under the guidance of Passaconaway, and in a few days reached the +Eldorado of the heretic and the persecuted, the colony of Roger +Williams. Passaconaway, ever after, remained friendly to the white men. +As civilization advanced he retired before it, to Pennacook, now +Concord, on the Merrimac, where the tribes of the Naumkeags, +Piscataquas, Accomentas, and Agawams acknowledged his authority. + + + + +THE OPIUM EATER. (1833.) + + Heavens! what a revulsion! what an upheaving from its lowest depths + of the inner spirit! what an apocalypse of the world within me! + Here was a panacea, a pharmakon nepenthes for all human woes; here + was the secret of happiness about which philosophers had disputed + for so many ages: happiness might be bought for a penny, and + carried in the waistcoat pocket.--DEQUINCEY's "Confessions of an + Opium Eater." + + +HE was a tall, thin personage, with a marked brow and a sunken eye. + +He stepped towards a closet of his apartment, and poured out a few drops +of a dark liquid. His hand shook, as he raised the glass which +contained them to his lips; and with a strange shuddering, a nervous +tremor, as if all the delicate chords of his system were unloosed and +trembling, he turned away from his fearful draught. + +He saw that my eye was upon him; and I could perceive that his mind +struggled desperately with the infirmity of his nature, as if ashamed of +the utter weakness of its tabernacle. He passed hastily up and down the +room. "You seem somewhat ill," I said, in the undecided tone of partial +interrogatory. + +He paused, and passed his long thin fingers over his forehead. "I am +indeed ill," he said, slowly, and with that quavering, deep-drawn +breathing, which is so indicative of anguish, mental and physical. +"I am weak as a child, weak alike in mind and body, even when I am under +the immediate influence of yonder drug." And he pointed, as he spoke, +to a phial, labelled "Laudanum," upon a table in the corner of the room. + +"My dear sir," said I, "for God's sake abandon your desperate practice: +I know not, indeed, the nature of your afflictions, but I feel assured +that you have yet the power to be happy. You have, at least, warm +friends to sympathize with you. But forego, if possible, your +pernicious stimulant of laudanum. It is hurrying you to your grave." + +"It may be so," he replied, while another shudder ran along his nerves; +"but why should I fear it? I, who have become worthless to myself and +annoying to my friends; exquisitely sensible of my true condition, yet +wanting the power to change it; cursed with a lively apprehension of all +that I ought now to be, yet totally incapable of even making an effort +to be so! My dear sir, I feel deeply the kindness of your motives, but +it is too late for me to hope to profit by your advice." + +I was shocked at his answer. "But can it be possible," said I, "that +the influence of such an excessive use of opium can produce any +alleviation of mental suffering? any real relief to the harassed mind? +Is it not rather an aggravation?" + +"I know not," he said, seating himself with considerable calmness,--"I +know not. If it has not removed the evil, it has at least changed its +character. It has diverted my mind from its original grief; and has +broken up and rendered divergent the concentrated agony which oppressed +me. It has, in a measure, substituted imaginary afflictions for real +ones. I cannot but confess, however, that the relief which it has +afforded has been produced by the counteraction of one pain by another; +very much like that of the Russian criminal, who gnaws his own flesh +while undergoing the punishment of the knout.'" + +"For Heaven's sake," said I, "try to dispossess your mind of such horrid +images. There are many, very many resources yet left you. Try the +effect of society; and let it call into exercise those fine talents +which all admit are so well calculated to be its ornament and pride. +At least, leave this hypochondriacal atmosphere, and look out more +frequently upon nature. Your opium, if it be an alleviator, is, by your +own confession, a most melancholy one. It exorcises one demon to give +place to a dozen others. + + 'With other ministrations, thou, O Nature! + Healest thy wandering and distempered child.'" + +He smiled bitterly; it was a heartless, melancholy relaxation of +features, a mere muscular movement, with which the eye had no sympathy; +for its wild and dreamy expression, the preternatural lustre, without +transparency, remained unaltered, as if rebuking, with its cold, strange +glare, the mockery around it. He sat before me like a statue, whose eye +alone retained its stony and stolid rigidity, while the other features +were moved by some secret machinery into "a ghastly smile." + +"I am not desirous, even were it practicable," he said, "to defend the +use of opium, or rather the abuse of it. I can only say, that the +substitutes you propose are not suited to my condition. The world has +now no enticements for me; society no charms. Love, fame, wealth, +honor, may engross the attention of the multitude; to me they are all +shadows; and why should I grasp at them? In the solitude of my own +thoughts, looking on but not mingling in them, I have taken the full +gauge of their hollow vanities. No, leave me to myself, or rather to +that new existence which I have entered upon, to the strange world to +which my daily opiate invites me. In society I am alone, fearfully +solitary; for my mind broods gloomily over its besetting sorrow, and I +make myself doubly miserable by contrasting my own darkness with the +light and joy of all about me; nay, you cannot imagine what a very hard +thing it is, at such times, to overcome some savage feelings of +misanthropy which will present themselves. But when I am alone, and +under the influence of opium, I lose for a season my chief source of +misery, myself; my mind takes a new and unnatural channel; and I have +often thought that any one, even that of insanity, would be preferable +to its natural one. It is drawn, as it were, out of itself; and I +realize in my own experience the fable of Pythagoras, of two distinct +existences, enjoyed by the same intellectual being. + +"My first use of opium was the consequence of an early and very bitter +disappointment. I dislike to think of it, much more to speak of it. I +recollect, on a former occasion, you expressed some curiosity concerning +it. I then repelled that curiosity, for my mind was not in a situation +to gratify it. But now, since I have been talking of myself, I think I +can go on with my story with a very decent composure. In complying with +your request, I cannot say that my own experience warrants, in any +degree, the old and commonly received idea that sorrow loses half its +poignancy by its revelation to others. It was a humorous opinion of +Sterne, that a blessing which ties up the tongue, and a mishap which +unlooses it, are to be considered equal; and, indeed, I have known some +people happy under all the changes of fortune, when they could find +patient auditors. Tully wept over his dead daughter, but when he +chanced to think of the excellent things he could say on the subject, +he considered it, on the whole, a happy circumstance. But, for my own +part, I cannot say with the Mariner in Coleridge's ballad, that + + "'At an uncertain hour My agony returns; + + And, till my ghastly tale is told, + This heart within me burns.'" + +He paused a moment, and rested his head upon his hand. "You have seen +Mrs. H------, of -------?" he inquired, somewhat abruptly. I replied in +the affirmative. + +"Do you not think her a fine woman?" + +"Yes, certainly, a fine woman. She was once, I am told, very +beautiful." + +"Once? is she not so now?" he asked. "Well, I have heard the same +before. I sometimes think I should like to see her now, now that the +mildew of years and perhaps of accusing recollections are upon her; and +see her toss her gray curls as she used to do her dark ones, and act +over again her old stratagem of smiles upon a face of wrinkles. Just +Heavens! were I revengeful to the full extent of my wrongs, I could wish +her no worse punishment. + +"They told you truly, my dear sir,--she was beautiful, nay, externally, +faultless. Her figure was that of womanhood, just touching upon the +meridian of perfection, from which nothing could be taken, and to which +nothing could be added. There was a very witchery in her smile, +trembling, as it did, over her fine Grecian features, like the play of +moonlight upon a shifting and beautiful cloud. + +"Her voice was music, low, sweet, bewildering. I have heard it a +thousand times in my dreams. It floated around me, like the tones of +some rare instrument, unseen by the hearer; for, beautiful as she was, +you could not think of her, or of her loveliness, while she was +speaking; it was that sweetly wonderful voice, seemingly abstracted from +herself, pouring forth the soft current of its exquisite cadence, which +alone absorbed the attention. Like that one of Coleridge's heroines, +you could half feel, half fancy, that it had a separate being of its +own, a spiritual presence manifested to but one of the senses; a living +something, whose mode of existence was for the ear alone.--(See Memoirs +of Maria Eleonora Schoning.) + +"But what shall I say of the mind? What of the spirit, the resident +divinity of so fair a temple? Vanity, vanity, all was vanity; +a miserable, personal vanity, too, unrelieved by one noble aspiration, +one generous feeling; the whited sepulchre spoken of of old, beautiful +without, but dark and unseemly within. + +"I look back with wonder and astonishment to that period of my life, +when such a being claimed and received the entire devotion of my heart. +Her idea blended with or predominated over all others. It was the +common centre in my mind from which all the radii of thought had their +direction; the nucleus around which I had gathered all that my ardent +imagination could conceive, or a memory stored with all the delicious +dreams of poetry and romances could embody, of female excellence and +purity and constancy. + +"It is idle to talk of the superior attractions of intellectual beauty, +when compared with mere external loveliness. The mind, invisible and +complicated and indefinite, does not address itself directly to the +senses. It is comprehended only by its similitude in others. It +reveals itself, even then, but slowly and imperfectly. But the beauty +of form and color, the grace of motion, the harmony of tone, are seen +and felt and appreciated at once. The image of substantial and material +loveliness once seen leaves an impression as distinct and perfect upon +the retina of memory as upon that of the eyes. It does not rise before +us in detached and disconnected proportions, like that of spiritual +loveliness, but in crowds, and in solitude, and in all the throngful +varieties of thought and feeling and action, the symmetrical whole, the +beautiful perfection comes up in the vision of memory, and stands, like +a bright angel, between us and all other impressions of outward or +immaterial beauty. + +"I saw her, and could not forget her; I sought her society, and was +gratified with it. It is true, I sometimes (in the first stages of my +attachment) had my misgivings in relation to her character. I sometimes +feared that her ideas were too much limited to the perishing beauty of +her person. But to look upon her graceful figure yielding to the dance, +or reclining in its indolent symmetry; to watch the beautiful play of +coloring upon her cheek, and the moonlight transit of her smile; to +study her faultless features in their delicate and even thoughtful +repose, or when lighted up into conversational vivacity, was to forget +everything, save the exceeding and bewildering fascination before me. +Like the silver veil of Khorassan it shut out from my view the mental +deformity beneath it. I could not reason with myself about her; I had +no power of ratiocination which could overcome the blinding dazzle of +her beauty. The master-passion, which had wrestled down all others, +gave to every sentiment of the mind something of its own peculiar +character. + +"I will not trouble you with a connected history of my first love, my +boyish love, you may perhaps call it. Suffice it to say, that on the +revelation of that love, it was answered by its object warmly and +sympathizingly. I had hardly dared to hope for her favor; for I had +magnified her into something far beyond mortal desert; and to hear from +her own lips an avowal of affection seemed more like the condescension +of a pitying angel than the sympathy of a creature of passion and +frailty like myself. I was miserably self-deceived; and self-deception +is of a nature most repugnant to the healthy operation of truth. We +suspect others, but seldom ourselves. The deception becomes a part of +our self-love; we hold back the error even when Reason would pluck it +away from us. + +"Our whole life may be considered as made up of earnest yearnings after +objects whose value increases with the difficulties of obtaining them, +and which seem greater and more desirable, from our imperfect knowledge +of their nature, just as the objects of the outward vision are magnified +and exalted when seen through a natural telescope of mist. Imagination +fills up and supplies the picture, of which we can only catch the +outlines, with colors brighter, and forms more perfect, than those of +reality. Yet, you may perhaps wonder why, after my earnest desire had +been gratified, after my love had found sympathy in its object, I did +not analyze more closely the inherent and actual qualities of her heart +and intellect. But living, as I did, at a considerable distance from +her, and seeing her only under circumstances calculated to confirm +previous impressions, I had few advantages, even had I desired to do so, +of studying her true character. The world had not yet taught me its +ungenerous lesson. I had not yet learned to apply the rack of +philosophical analysis to the objects around me, and test, by a cold +process of reasoning, deduced from jealous observation, the reality of +all which wore the outward semblance of innocence and beauty. And it +may be, too, that the belief, nay, the assurance, from her own lips, and +from the thousand voiceless but eloquent signs which marked our +interviews, that I was beloved, made me anxious to deceive even myself, +by investing her with those gifts of the intellect and the heart, +without which her very love would have degraded its object. It is not +in human nature, at least it was not in mine, to embitter the delicious +aliment which is offered to our vanity, by admitting any uncomfortable +doubts of the source from which it is derived. + +"And thus it was that I came on, careless and secure, dreaming over and +over the same bright dream; without any doubt, without fear, and in the +perfect confidence of an unlimited trust, until the mask fell off, all +at once; without giving me time for preparation, without warning or +interlude; and the features of cold, heartless, systematic treachery +glared full upon me. + +"I saw her wedded to another. It was a beautiful morning; and never had +the sun shone down on a gayer assemblage than that which gathered +together at the village church. I witnessed the imposing ceremony which +united the only one being I had ever truly loved to a happy and favored, +because more wealthy, rival. As the grayhaired man pronounced the +inquiring challenge, 'If any man can show just cause why they may not +lawfully be joined together, let him now speak or else forever after +hold his peace,' I struggled forward, and would have cried out, but the +words died away in my throat. And the ceremony went on, and the death- +like trance into which I had fallen was broken by the voice of the +priest: 'I require and charge ye both, as ye will answer at the dreadful +day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that +if either of you know of any impediment why ye may not lawfully be +joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it; for be ye well +assured, that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God's +word doth allow, their marriage is not lawful.' As the solemn tones of +the old man died away in the church aisles, I almost expected to hear a +supernatural voice calling upon him to forbear. But there was no sound. +For an instant my eyes met those of the bride; the blood boiled rapidly +to her forehead, and then sank back, and she was as pale as if death had +been in the glance I had given her. And I could see the folds of her +rich dress tremble, and her beautiful lips quiver; and she turned away +her eyes, and the solemn rites were concluded. + +"I returned to my lodgings. I heeded not the gay smiles and free +merriment of those around me. I hurried along like one who wanders +abroad in a dark dream; for I could hardly think of the events of the +morning as things of reality. But, when I spurred my horse aside, as +the carriage which contained the newly married swept by me, the terrible +truth came upon me like a tangible substance, and one black and evil +thought passed over my mind, like the whispered suggestion of Satan. It +was a feeling of blood, a sensation like that of grasping the strangling +throat of an enemy. I started from it with horror. For the first time +a thought of murder had risen up in my bosom; and I quenched it with the +natural abhorrence of a nature prone to mildness and peace. + +"I reached my chamber, and, exhausted alike in mind and body, I threw +myself upon my bed, but not to sleep. A sense of my utter desolation +and loneliness came over me, blended with a feeling of bitter and +unmerited wrong. I recollected the many manifestations of affection +which I had received from her who had that day given herself, in the +presence of Heaven, to another; and I called to mind the thousand +sacrifices I had made to her lightest caprices, to every shade and +variation of her temper; and then came the maddening consciousness of +the black ingratitude which had requited such tenderness. Then, too, +came the thought, bitter to a pride like mine, that the cold world had a +knowledge of my misfortunes; that I should be pointed out as a +disappointed man, a subject for the pity of some, and the scorn and +jestings of others. Rage and shame mingled with the keen agony of +outraged feeling. 'I will not endure it,' I said, mentally, springing +from my bed and crossing the chamber with a flushed brow and a strong +step; 'never!' And I ground my teeth upon each other, while a fierce +light seemed to break in upon my brain; it was the light of the +Tempter's smile, and I almost laughed aloud as the horrible thought of +suicide started before me. I felt that I might escape the ordeal of +public scorn and pity; that I might bid the world and its falsehood +defiance, and end, by one manly effort, the agony of an existence whose +every breath was torment. + +"My resolution was fixed. 'I will never see another morrow!' I said, +sternly, but with a calmness which almost astonished me. Indeed, I +seemed gifted with a supernatural firmness, as I made my arrangements +for the last day of suffering which I was to endure. A few friends had +been invited to dine with me, and I prepared to meet them. They came at +the hour appointed with smiling faces and warm and friendly greetings; +and I received them as if nothing had happened, with even a more +enthusiastic welcome than was my wont. + +"Oh! it is terrible to smile when the heart is breaking! to talk +lightly and freely and mirthfully, when every feeling of the mind is +wrung with unutterable agony; to mingle in the laugh and in the gay +volleys of convivial fellowship, + + 'With the difficult utterance of one + Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down.' + +"Yet all this I endured, hour after hour, until my friends departed and I +had pressed their hands as at a common parting, while my heart whispered +an everlasting farewell! + +"It was late when they left me. I walked out to look for the last time +upon Nature in her exceeding beauty. I hardly acknowledged to myself +that such was my purpose; but yet I did feel that it was so; and that I +was taking an everlasting farewell of the beautiful things around me. +The sun was just setting; and the hills, that rose like pillars of the +blue horizon, were glowing with a light which was fast deserting the +valleys. It was an evening of summer; everything was still; not a leaf +stirred in the dark, overshadowing foliage; but, silent and beautiful as +a picture, the wide scenery of rock and hill and woodland, stretched +away before me; and, beautiful as it was, it seemed to possess a newness +and depth of beauty beyond its ordinary appearance, as if to aggravate +the pangs of the last, long farewell. + +"They do not err who believe that man has a sympathy with even inanimate +Nature, deduced from a common origin; a chain of co-existence and +affinity connecting the outward forms of natural objects with his own +fearful and wonderful machinery; something, in short, manifested in his +love of flowing waters, and soft green shadows, and pleasant blowing +flowers, and in his admiration of the mountain, stretching away into +heaven, sublimed and awful in its cloudy distance; the heave and swell +of the infinite ocean; the thunder of the leaping cataract; and the +onward rush of mighty rivers, which tells of its original source, and +bears evidence of its kindred affinities. Nor was the dream of the +ancient Chaldean 'all a dream.' The stars of heaven, the beauty and the +glory above us, have their influences and their power, not evil and +malignant and partial and irrevocable, but holy and tranquillizing and +benignant, a moral influence, by which all may profit if they will do +so. And I have often marvelled at the hard depravity of that human +heart which could sanction a deed of violence and crime in the calm +solitudes of Nature, and surrounded by the enduring evidences of an +overruling Intelligence. I could conceive of crime, growing up rank and +monstrous in the unwholesome atmosphere of the thronged city, amidst the +taint of moral as well as physical pestilence, and surrounded only by +man and the works of man. But there is something in the harmony and +quiet of the natural world which presents a reproving antagonism to the +fiercer passions of the human heart; an eye of solemn reprehension looks +out from the still places of Nature, as if the Great Soul of the +Universe had chosen the mute creations of his power to be the witnesses +of the deeds done in the body, the researchers of the bosoms of men. + +"And then, even at that awful moment, I could feel the bland and gentle +ministrations of Nature; I could feel the fever of my heart cooling, and +a softer haze of melancholy stealing over the blackness of my despair; +and the fierce passions which had distracted me giving place to the calm +of a settled anguish, a profound sorrow, the quiet gloom of an +overshadowing woe, in which love and hatred and wrong were swallowed up +and lost. I no longer hated the world; but I felt that it had nothing +for me; that I was no longer a part and portion of its harmonious +elements; affliction had shut me out forever from the pale of human +happiness and sympathy, and hope pointed only to the resting-place of +the grave! + +"I stood steadily gazing at the setting sun. It touched and sat upon +the hill-top like a great circle of fire. I had never before fully +comprehended the feeling of the amiable but misguided Rousseau, who at +his death-hour desired to be brought into the open air, that the last +glance of his failing eye might drink in the glory of the sunset +heavens, and the light of his great intellect and that of Nature go out +together. For surely never did the Mexican idolater mark with deeper +emotion the God of his worship, for the last time veiling his awful +countenance, than did I, untainted by superstition, yet full of perfect +love for the works of Infinite Wisdom, watch over the departure of the +most glorious of them all. I felt, even to agony, the truth of these +exquisite lines of the Milesian poet: + + 'Blest power of sunshine, genial day! + What joy, what life is in thy ray! + To feel thee is such real bliss, + That, had the world no joy but this, + To sit in sunshine, calm and sweet, + It were a world too exquisite + For man to leave it for the gloom, + The dull, cold shadow of the tomb!' + +"Never shall I forget my sensations when the sun went down utterly from +my sight. It was like receiving the last look of a dying friend. To +others he might bring life and health and joy, on the morrow; but tome +he would never rise. As this thought came over me, I felt a stifling +sensation in my throat, tears started in my eyes, and my heart almost +wavered from its purpose. But the bent bow had only relaxed for a +single instant; it returned again to its strong and abiding tension. + +"I was alone in my chamber once more. A single lamp burned gloomily +before me; and on the table at my side stood a glass of laudanum. I had +prepared everything. I had written my last letter, and had now only to +drink the fatal draught, and lie down to my last sleep. I heard the old +village clock strike eleven. 'I may as well do it now as ever,' I said +mentally, and my hand moved towards the glass. But my courage failed +me; my hand shook, and some moments elapsed before I could sufficiently +quiet my nerves to lift the glass containing the fatal liquid. The +blood ran cold upon my heart, and my brain reeled, as again and again +I lifted the poison to my closed lips. 'It must be done,' thought I, +'I must drink it.' With a desperate effort I unlocked my clenched teeth +and the deed was done! + +"'O God, have mercy upon me!' I murmured, as the empty glass fell from +my hand. I threw myself upon the bed, and awaited the awful +termination. An age of unutterable misery seemed crowded into a brief +moment. All the events of my past life, a life, as it then seemed to +me, made up of folly and crime, rose distinct before me, like accusing +witnesses, as if the recording angel had unrolled to my view the full +and black catalogue of my unnumbered sins:-- + + 'O'er the soul Winters of memory seemed to roll, + And gather, in that drop of time, + A life of pain, an age of crime.' + +"I felt that what I had done was beyond recall; and the Phantom of Death, +as it drew nearer, wore an aspect darker and more terrible. I thought +of the coffin, the shroud, and the still and narrow grave, into whose +dumb and frozen solitude none but the gnawing worm intrudes. And then +my thoughts wandered away into the vagueness and mystery of eternity, I +was rushing uncalled for into the presence of a just and pure God, with +a spirit unrepenting, unannealed! And I tried to pray and could not; +for a heaviness, a dull strange torpor crept over me. Consciousness +went out slowly. 'This is death,' thought I; yet I felt no pain, +nothing save a weary drowsiness, against which I struggled in vain. + +"My next sensations were those of calmness, deep, ineffable, an +unearthly quiet; a suspension or rather oblivion of every mental +affliction; a condition of the mind betwixt the thoughts of wakefulness +and the dreams of sleep. It seemed to me that the gulf between mind and +matter had been passed over, and that I had entered upon a new +existence. I had no memory, no hope, no sorrow; nothing but a dim +consciousness of a pleasurable and tranquil being. Gradually, however, +the delusion vanished. I was sensible of still wearing the fetters of +the flesh, yet they galled no longer; the burden was lifted from my +heart, it beat happily and calmly, as in childhood. As the stronger +influences of my opiate (for I had really swallowed nothing more, as the +druggist, suspecting from the incoherence of my language, that I was +meditating some fearful purpose, furnished me with a harmless, though +not ineffective draught) passed off, the events of the past came back to +me. It was like the slow lifting of a curtain from a picture of which I +was a mere spectator, about which I could reason calmly, and trace +dispassionately its light and shadow. Having satisfied myself that I +had been deceived in the quantity of opium I had taken, I became also +convinced that I had at last discovered the great antidote for which +philosophy had exhausted its resources, the fabled Lethe, the oblivion +of human sorrow. The strong necessity of suicide had passed away; life, +even for me, might be rendered tolerable by the sovereign panacea of +opium, the only true minister to a mind diseased, the sought 'kalon' +found. + +"From that day I have been habitually an opium eater. I am perfectly +sensible that the constant use of the pernicious drug has impaired my +health; but I cannot relinquish it. Some time since I formed a +resolution to abandon it, totally and at once; but had not strength +enough to carry it into practice. The very attempt to do so nearly +drove me to madness. The great load of mental agony which had been +lifted up and held aloof by the daily applied power of opium sank back +upon my heart like a crushing weight. Then, too, my physical sufferings +were extreme; an indescribable irritation, a general uneasiness +tormented me incessantly. I can only think of it as a total +disarrangement of the whole nervous system, the jarring of all the +thousand chords of sensitiveness, each nerve having its own particular +pain.--( Essay on the Effects of Opium, London, 1763.) + +"De Quincey, in his wild, metaphysical, and eloquent, yet, in many +respects, fancy sketch, considers the great evil resulting from the use +of opium to be the effect produced upon the mind during the hours of +sleep, the fearful inquietude of unnatural dreams. My own dreams have +been certainly of a different order from those which haunted me previous +to my experience in opium eating. But I cannot easily believe that +opium necessarily introduces a greater change in the mind's sleeping +operations, than in those of its wakefulness. + +"At one period, indeed, while suffering under a general, nervous +debility, from which I am even now but partially relieved, my troubled +and broken sleep was overshadowed by what I can only express as +'a horror of thick darkness.' There was nothing distinct or certain in +my visions, all was clouded, vague, hideous; sounds faint and awful, yet +unknown; the sweep of heavy wings, the hollow sound of innumerable +footsteps, the glimpse of countless apparitions, and darkness falling +like a great cloud from heaven. + +"I can scarcely give you an adequate idea of my situation in these +dreams, without comparing it with that of the ancient Egyptians while +suffering under the plague of darkness. I never read the awful +description of this curse, without associating many of its horrors with +those of my own experience. + +"'But they, sleeping the same sleep that night, which was indeed +intolerable, and which came upon them out of the bottoms of inevitable +hell, + +"'Were partly vexed with monstrous apparitions, and partly fainted; for +a sudden fear and not looked for, came upon them.' + +"'For neither might the corner which held them keep them from fear; but +noises, as of waters falling down, sounded about them, and sad visions +appeared unto them, with heavy countenances. + +"'Whether it were a whistling wind, or a melodious voice of birds among +the spreading branches, or a pleasing fall of water running violently; + +"'Or, a terrible sound of stones cast down, or, a running that could not +be seen, of skipping beasts, or a roaring voice of most savage wild +beasts, or a rebounding echo from the hollow mountains: these things +made them to swoon for fear.'--(Wisdom of Solomon, chapter xvii.) + +"That creative faculty of the eye, upon which Mr. De Quincey dwells so +strongly, I have myself experienced. Indeed, it has been the principal +cause of suffering which has connected itself with my habit of opium +eating. It developed itself at first in a recurrence of the childish +faculty of painting upon the darkness whatever suggested itself to the +mind; anon, those figures which had before been called up only at will +became the cause, instead of the effect, of the mind's employment; in +other words, they came before me in the night-time, like real images, +and independent of any previous volition of thought. I have often, +after retiring to my bed, seen, looking through the thick wall of +darkness round about me, the faces of those whom I had not known for +years, nay, since childhood; faces, too, of the dead, called up, as it +were, from the church-yard and the wilderness and the deep waters, and +betraying nothing of the grave's terrible secrets. And in the same way, +some of the more important personages I had read of, in history and +romance, glided often before me, like an assembly of apparitions, each +preserving, amidst the multitudinous combinations of my visions, his own +individuality and peculiar characteristics.--(Vide Emanuel Count +Swedenborg, Nicolai of Berlin's Account of Spectral Illusion, Edinburgh +Phrenological Journal.) + +"These images were, as you may suppose, sufficiently annoying, yet they +came and went without exciting any emotions of terror. But a change at +length came over them, an awful distinctness and a semblance of reality, +which, operating upon nerves weakened and diseased, shook the very +depths of my spirit with a superstitious awe, and against which reason +and philosophy, for a time, struggled in vain. + +"My mind had for some days been dwelling with considerable solicitude +upon an intimate friend, residing in a distant city. I had heard that +he was extremely ill, indeed, that his life was despaired of; and I may +mention that at this period all my mind's operations were dilatory; +there were no sudden emotions; passion seemed exhausted; and when once +any new train of thought had been suggested, it gradually incorporated +itself with those which had preceded it, until it finally became sole +and predominant, just as certain plants of the tropical islands wind +about and blend with and finally take the place of those of another +species. And perhaps to this peculiarity of the mental economy, the +gradual concentring of the mind in a channel, narrowing to that point of +condensation where thought becomes sensible to sight as well as feeling, +may be mainly attributed the vision I am about to describe. + +"I was lying in my bed, listless and inert; it was broad day, for the +easterly light fell in strongly through the parted curtains. I felt, +all at once, a strong curiosity, blended with an unaccountable dread, to +look upon a small table which stood near the bedside. I felt certain of +seeing something fearful, and yet I knew not what; there was an awe and +a fascination upon me, more dreadful from their very vagueness. I lay +for some time hesitating and actually trembling, until the agony of +suspense became too strong for endurance. I opened my eyes and fixed +them upon the dreaded object. Upon the table lay what seemed to me a +corpse, wrapped about in the wintry habiliments of the grave, the corpse +of my friend. + + (William Hone, celebrated for his antiquarian researches, has given + a distinct and highly interesting account of spectral illusion, in + his own experience, in his Every Day Book. The artist Cellini has + made a similar statement.) + +"For a moment, the circumstances of time and place were forgotten; and +the spectre seemed to me a natural reality, at which I might sorrow, but +not wonder. The utter fallacy of this idea was speedily detected; and +then I endeavored to consider the present vision, like those which had +preceded it, a mere delusion, a part of the phenomena of opium eating. +I accordingly closed my eyes for an instant, and then looked again in +full expectation that the frightful object would no longer be visible. +It was still there; the body lay upon its side; the countenance turned +full towards me,--calm, quiet, even beautiful, but certainly that of +death: + + 'Ere yet Decay's effacing fingers + Had swept the lines where Beauty lingers' + +and the white brow, and its light shadowy hair, and the cold, still +familiar features lay evident and manifest to the influx of the +strengthening twilight. A cold agony crept over me; I buried my head in +the bed-clothes, in a child-like fear, and when I again ventured to look +up, the spectre had vanished. The event made a strong impression on my +mind; and I can scarcely express the feeling of relief which was +afforded, a few days after, by a letter from the identical friend in +question, informing me of his recovery of health. + +"It would be a weary task, and one which you would no doubt thank me for +declining, to detail the circumstances of a hundred similar visitations, +most of which were, in fact, but different combinations of the same +illusion. One striking exception I will mention, as it relates to some +passages of my early history which you have already heard. + +"I have never seen Mrs. H since her marriage. Time, and the continued +action of opium, deadening the old sensibilities of the heart and +awakening new ones, have effected a wonderful change in my feelings +towards her. Little as the confession may argue in favor of my early +passion, I seldom think of her, save with a feeling very closely allied +to indifference. Yet I have often seen her in my spectral illusions, +young and beautiful as ever, but always under circumstances which formed +a wide contrast between her spectral appearance and all my recollections +of the real person. The spectral face, which I often saw looking in +upon me, in my study, when the door was ajar, and visible only in the +uncertain lamplight, or peering over me in the moonlight solitude of my +bed-chamber, when I was just waking from sleep, was uniformly subject +to, and expressive of, some terrible hate, or yet more terrible anguish. +Its first appearance was startling in the extreme. It was the face of +one of the fabled furies: the demon glared in the eye, the nostril was +dilated, the pale lip compressed, and the brow bent and darkened; yet +above all, and mingled with all, the supremacy of human beauty was +manifest, as if the dream of Eastern superstition had been realized, and +a fierce and foul spirit had sought out and animated into a fiendish +existence some beautiful sleeper of the grave. The other expression of +the countenance of the apparition, that of agony, I accounted for on +rational principles. Some years ago I saw, and was deeply affected by, +a series of paintings representing the tortures of a Jew in the Holy +Inquisition; and the expression of pain in the countenance of the victim +I at once recognized in that of the apparition, rendered yet more +distressing by the feminine and beautiful features upon which it rested. + +"I am not naturally superstitious; but, shaken and clouded as my mind +had been by the use of opium, I could not wholly divest it of fear when +these phantoms beset me. Yet, on all other occasions, save that of +their immediate presence, I found no difficulty in assigning their +existence to a diseased state of the bodily organs, and a corresponding +sympathy of the mind, rendering it capable of receiving and reflecting +the false, fantastic, and unnatural images presented to it. + + (One of our most celebrated medical writers considers spectral + illusion a disease, in which false perceptions take place in some + of the senses; thus, when the excitement of motion is produced in a + particular organ, that organ does not vibrate with the impression + made upon it, but communicates it to another part on which a + similar impression was formerly made. Nicolai states that he made + his illusion a source of philosophical amusement. The spectres + which haunted him came in the day time as well as the night, and + frequently when he was surrounded by his friends; the ideal images + mingling with the real ones, and visible only to himself. Bernard + Barton, the celebrated Quaker poet, describes an illusion of this + nature in a manner peculiarly striking:-- + + "I only knew thee as thou wert, + A being not of earth! + "I marvelled much they could not see + Thou comest from above + And often to myself I said, + 'How can they thus approach the dead?' + + "But though all these, with fondness warm, + Said welcome o'er and o'er, + Still that expressive shade or form + Was silent, as before! + And yet its stillness never brought + To them one hesitating thought." + +"I recollected that the mode of exorcism which was successfully adopted +by Nicolai of Berlin, when haunted by similar fantasies, was a resort to +the simple process of blood-letting. I accordingly made trial of it, +but without the desired effect. Fearful, from the representations of my +physicians, and from some of my own sensations, that the almost daily +recurrence of my visions might ultimately lead to insanity, I came to +the resolution of reducing my daily allowance of opium; and, confining +myself, with the most rigid pertinacity, to a quantity not exceeding one +third of what I had formerly taken, I became speedily sensible of a most +essential change in my condition. A state of comparative health, mental +and physical with calmer sleep and a more natural exercise of the organs +of vision, succeeded. I have made many attempts at a further reduction, +but have been uniformly unsuccessful, owing to the extreme and almost +unendurable agony occasioned thereby. + +"The peculiar creative faculty of the eye, the fearful gift of a +diseased vision, still remains, but materially weakened and divested of +its former terrors. My mind has recovered in some degree its shaken and +suspended faculties. But happiness, the buoyant and elastic happiness +of earlier days, has departed forever. Although, apparently, a +practical disciple of Behmen, I am no believer in his visionary creed. +Quiet is not happiness; nor can the absence of all strong and painful +emotion compensate for the weary heaviness of inert existence, +passionless, dreamless, changeless. The mind requires the excitement of +active and changeful thought; the intellectual fountain, like the pool +of Bethesda, has a more healthful influence when its deep waters are +troubled. There may, indeed, be happiness in those occasional 'sabbaths +of the soul,' when calmness, like a canopy, overshadows it, and the +mind, for a brief season, eddies quietly round and round, instead of +sweeping onward; but none can exist in the long and weary stagnation of +feeling, the silent, the monotonous, neverending calm, broken by neither +hope nor fear." + + + + +THE PROSELYTES. (1833) + +THE student sat at his books. All the day he had been poring over an +old and time-worn volume; and the evening found him still absorbed in +its contents. It was one of that interminable series of controversial +volumes, containing the theological speculations of the ancient fathers +of the Church. With the patient perseverance so characteristic of his +countrymen, he was endeavoring to detect truth amidst the numberless +inconsistencies of heated controversy; to reconcile jarring +propositions; to search out the thread of scholastic argument amidst +the rant of prejudice and the sallies of passion, and the coarse +vituperations of a spirit of personal bitterness, but little in +accordance with the awful gravity of the question at issue. + +Wearied and baffled in his researches, he at length closed the volume, +and rested his care-worn forehead upon his hand. "What avail," he said, +"these long and painful endeavors, these midnight vigils, these weary +studies, before which heart and flesh are failing? What have I gained? +I have pushed my researches wide and far; my life has been one long and +weary lesson; I have shut out from me the busy and beautiful world; I +have chastened every youthful impulse; and at an age when the heart +should be lightest and the pulse the freest, I am grave and silent and +sorrowful,' and the frost of a premature age is gathering around my +heart. Amidst these ponderous tomes, surrounded by the venerable +receptacles of old wisdom, breathing, instead of the free air of heaven, +the sepulchral dust of antiquity, I have become assimilated to the +objects around me; my very nature has undergone a metamorphosis of which +Pythagoras never dreamed. I am no longer a reasoning creature, looking +at everything within the circle of human investigation with a clear and +self-sustained vision, but the cheated follower of metaphysical +absurdities, a mere echo of scholastic subtilty. God knows that my aim +has been a lofty and pure one, that I have buried myself in this living +tomb, and counted the health of this His feeble and outward image as +nothing in comparison with that of the immortal and inward +representation and shadow of His own Infinite Mind; that I have toiled +through what the world calls wisdom, the lore of the old fathers and +time-honored philosophy, not for the dream of power and gratified +ambition, not for the alchemist's gold or life-giving elixir, but with +an eye single to that which I conceived to be the most fitting object of +a godlike spirit, the discovery of Truth,--truth perfect and unclouded, +truth in its severe and perfect beauty, truth as it sits in awe and +holiness in the presence of its Original and Source! + +"Was my aim too lofty? It cannot be; for my Creator has given me a +spirit which would spurn a meaner one. I have studied to act in +accordance with His will; yet have I felt all along like one walking in +blindness. I have listened to the living champions of the Church; I +have pored over the remains of the dead; but doubt and heavy darkness +still rest upon my pathway. I find contradiction where I had looked for +harmony; ambiguity where I had expected clearness; zeal taking the place +of reason; anger, intolerance, personal feuds and sectarian bitterness, +interminable discussions and weary controversies; while infinite Truth, +for which I have been seeking, lies still beyond, or seen, if at all, +only by transient and unsatisfying glimpses, obscured and darkened by +miserable subtilties and cabalistic mysteries." + +He was interrupted by the entrance of a servant with a letter. The +student broke its well-known seal, and read, in a delicate chirography, +the following words:-- + +"DEAR ERNEST,--A stranger from the English Kingdom, of gentle birth and +education, hath visited me at the request of the good Princess Elizabeth +of the Palatine. He is a preacher of the new faith, a zealous and +earnest believer in the gifts of the Spirit, but not like John de +Labadie or the lady Schurmans. + + (J. de Labadie, Anna Maria Schurmans, and others, dissenters from + the French Protestants, established themselves in Holland, 1670.) + +"He speaks like one sent on a message from heaven, a message of wisdom +and salvation. Come, Ernest, and see him; for he hath but a brief hour +to tarry with us. Who knoweth but that this stranger may be +commissioned to lead us to that which we have so long and anxiously +sought for,--the truth as it is in God. + "LEONORA." + +"Now may Heaven bless the sweet enthusiast for this interruption of my +bitter reflections!" said the student, in the earnest tenderness of +impassioned feeling. "She knows how gladly I shall obey her summons; +she knows how readily I shall forsake the dogmas of our wisest +schoolmen, to obey the slightest wishes of a heart pure and generous as +hers." + +He passed hastily through one of the principal streets of the city to +the dwelling of the lady, Eleonora. + +In a large and gorgeous apartment sat the Englishman, his plain and +simple garb contrasting strongly with the richness and luxury around +him. He was apparently quite young, and of a tall and commanding +figure. His countenance was calm and benevolent; it bore no traces of +passion; care had not marked it; there was a holy serenity in its +expression, which seemed a token of that inward "peace which passeth all +understanding." + +"And this is thy friend, Eleonora?" said the stranger, as he offered his +hand to Ernest. "I hear," he said, addressing the latter, "thou hast +been a hard student and a lover of philosophy." + +"I am but a humble inquirer after Truth," replied Ernest. + +"From whence hast thou sought it?" + +"From the sacred volume, from the lore of the old fathers, from the +fountains of philosophy, and from my own brief experience of human +life." + +"And hast thou attained thy object?" + +"Alas, no!" replied the student; "I have thus far toiled in vain." + +"Ah! thus must the children of this world ever toil, wearily, wearily, +but in vain. We grasp at shadows, we grapple with the fashionless air, +we walk in the blindness of our own vain imaginations, we compass heaven +and earth for our objects, and marvel that we find them not. The truth +which is of God, the crown of wisdom, the pearl of exceeding price, +demands not this vain-glorious research; easily to be entreated, it +lieth within the reach of all. The eye of the humblest spirit may +discern it. For He who respecteth not the persons of His children hath +not set it afar off, unapproachable save to the proud and lofty; but +hath made its refreshing fountains to murmur, as it were, at the very +door of our hearts. But in the encumbering hurry of the world we +perceive it not; in the noise of our daily vanities we hear not the +waters of Siloah which go softly. We look widely abroad; we lose +ourselves in vain speculation; we wander in the crooked paths of those +who have gone before us; yea, in the language of one of the old fathers, +we ask the earth and it replieth not, we question the sea and its +inhabitants, we turn to the sun, and the moon, and the stars of heaven, +and they may not satisfy us; we ask our eyes, and they cannot see, and +our ears, and they cannot hear; we turn to books, and they delude us; we +seek philosophy, and no response cometh from its dead and silent +learning. + + (August. Soliloq. Cap. XXXI. "Interrogavi Terram," etc.) + +"It is not in the sky above, nor in the air around, nor in the earth +beneath; it is in our own spirits, it lives within us; and if we would +find it, like the lost silver of the woman of the parable, we must look +at home, to the inward temple, which the inward eye discovereth, and +wherein the spirit of all truth is manifested. The voice of that spirit +is still and small, and the light about it shineth in darkness. But +truth is there; and if we seek it in low humility, in a patient waiting +upon its author, with a giving up of our natural pride of knowledge, a +seducing of self, a quiet from all outward endeavor, it will assuredly +be revealed and fully made known. For as the angel rose of old from the +altar of Manoah even so shall truth arise from the humbling sacrifice of +self-knowledge and human vanity, in all its eternal and ineffable +beauty. + +"Seekest thou, like Pilate, after truth? Look thou within. The holy +principle is there; that in whose light the pure hearts of all time have +rejoiced. It is 'the great light of ages' of which Pythagoras speaks, +the 'good spirit' of Socrates; the 'divine mind' of Anaxagoras; the +'perfect principle' of Plato; the 'infallible and immortal law, and +divine power of reason' of Philo. It is the 'unbegotten principle and +source of all light,' whereof Timmus testifieth; the 'interior guide of +the soul and everlasting foundation of virtue,' spoken of by Plutarch. +Yea, it was the hope and guide of those virtuous Gentiles, who, doing by +nature the things contained in the law, became a law unto themselves. + +"Look to thyself. Turn thine eye inward. Heed not the opinion of the +world. Lean not upon the broken reed of thy philosophy, thy verbal +orthodoxy, thy skill in tongues, thy knowledge of the Fathers. Remember +that truth was seen by the humble fishermen of Galilee, and overlooked +by the High Priest of the Temple, by the Rabbi and the Pharisee. Thou +canst not hope to reach it by the metaphysics of Fathers, Councils, +Schoolmen, and Universities. It lies not in the high places of human +learning; it is in the silent sanctuary of thy own heart; for He, who +gave thee an immortal soul, hath filled it with a portion of that truth +which is the image of His own unapproachable light. The voice of that +truth is within thee; heed thou its whisper. A light is kindled in thy +soul, which, if thou carefully heedest it, shall shine more and more +even unto the perfect day." + +The stranger paused, and the student melted into tears. "Stranger!" he +said, "thou hast taken a weary weight from my heart, and a heavy veil +from my eyes. I feel that thou hast revealed a wisdom which is not of +this world." + +"Nay, I am but a humble instrument in the hand of Him who is the +fountain of all truth, and the beginning and the end of all wisdom. May +the message which I have borne thee be sanctified to thy well-being." + +"Oh, heed him, Ernest!" said the lady. "It is the holy truth which has +been spoken. Let us rejoice in this truth, and, forgetting the world, +live only for it." + +"Oh, may He who watcheth over all His children keep thee in faith of thy +resolution!" said the Preacher, fervently. "Humble yourselves to +receive instruction, and it shall be given you. Turn away now in your +youth from the corrupting pleasures of the world, heed not its hollow +vanities, and that peace which is not such as the world giveth, the +peace of God which passeth all understanding, shall be yours. Yet, let +not yours be the world's righteousness, the world's peace, which shuts +itself up in solitude. Encloister not the body, but rather shut up the +soul from sin. Live in the world, but overcome it: lead a life of +purity in the face of its allurements: learn, from the holy principle of +truth within you, to do justly in the sight of its Author, to meet +reproach without anger, to live without offence, to love those that +offend you, to visit the widow and the fatherless, and keep yourselves +unspotted from the world." + +"Eleonora!" said the humbled student, "truth is plain before us; can we +follow its teachings? Alas! canst thou, the daughter of a noble house, +forget the glory of thy birth, and, in the beauty of thy years, tread in +that lowly path, which the wisdom of the world accounteth foolishness?" + +"Yes, Ernest, rejoicingly can I do it!" said the lady; and the bright +glow of a lofty purpose gave a spiritual expression to her majestic +beauty. "Glory to God in the highest, that He hath visited us in +mercy!" + +"Lady!" said the Preacher, "the day-star of truth has arisen in thy +heart; follow thou its light even unto salvation. Live an harmonious +life to the curious make and frame of thy creation; and let the beauty +of thy person teach thee to beautify thy mind with holiness, the +ornament of the beloved of God. Remember that the King of Zion's +daughter is all-glorious within; and if thy soul excel, thy body will +only set off the lustre of thy mind. Let not the spirit of this world, +its cares and its many vanities, its fashions and discourse, prevail +over the civility of thy nature. Remember that sin brought the first +coat, and thou wilt have little reason to be proud of dress or the +adorning of thy body. Seek rather the enduring ornament of a meek and +quiet spirit, the beauty and the purity of the altar of God's temple, +rather than the decoration of its outward walls. For, as the Spartan +monarch said of old to his daughter, when he restrained her from wearing +the rich dresses of Sicily, 'Thou wilt seem more lovely to me without +them,' so shalt thou seem, in thy lowliness and humility, more lovely in +the sight of Heaven and in the eyes of the pure of earth. Oh, preserve +in their freshness thy present feelings, wait in humble resignation and +in patience, even if it be all thy days, for the manifestations of Him +who as a father careth for all His children." + +"I will endeavor, I will endeavor!" said the lady, humbled in spirit, +and in tears. + +The stranger took the hand of each. "Farewell!" he said, "I must needs +depart, for I have much work before me. God's peace be with you; and +that love be around you, which has been to me as the green pasture and +the still water, the shadow in a weary land." + +And the stranger went his way; but the lady and her lover, in all their +after life, and amidst the trials and persecutions which they were +called to suffer in the cause of truth, remembered with joy and +gratitude the instructions of the pure-hearted and eloquent William +Penn. + + + + +DAVID MATSON. + + Published originally in Our Young Folks, 1865. + +WHO of my young friends have read the sorrowful story of "Enoch Arden," +so sweetly and simply told by the great English poet? It is the story +of a man who went to sea, leaving behind a sweet young wife and little +daughter. He was cast away on a desert island, where he remained +several years, when he was discovered and taken off by a passing vessel. +Coming back to his native town, he found his wife married to an old +playmate, a good man, rich and honored, and with whom she was living +happily. The poor man, unwilling to cause her pain and perplexity, +resolved not to make himself known to her, and lived and died alone. +The poem has reminded me of a very similar story of my own New England +neighborhood, which I have often heard, and which I will try to tell, +not in poetry, like Alfred Tennyson's, but in my own poor prose. I can +assure my readers that in its main particulars it is a true tale. + +One bright summer morning, not more than fourscore years ago, David +Matson, with his young wife and his two healthy, barefooted boys, stood +on the bank of the river near their dwelling. They were waiting for +Pelatiah Curtis to come round the point with his wherry, and take the +husband and father to the port, a few miles below. The Lively Turtle +was about to sail on a voyage to Spain, and David was to go in her as +mate. They stood there in the level morning sunshine talking +cheerfully; but had you been near enough, you could have seen tears in +Anna Matson's blue eyes, for she loved her husband and knew there was +always danger on the sea. And David's bluff, cheery voice trembled a +little now and then, for the honest sailor loved his snug home on the +Merrimac, with the dear wife and her pretty boys. But presently the +wherry came alongside, and David was just stepping into it, when he +turned back to kiss his wife and children once more. + +"In with you, man," said Pelatiah Curtis. "There is no time for kissing +and such fooleries when the tide serves." + +And so they parted. Anna and the boys went back to their home, and +David to the Port, whence he sailed off in the Lively Turtle. And +months passed, autumn followed summer, and winter the autumn, and then +spring came, and anon it was summer on the river-side, and he did not +come back. And another year passed, and then the old sailors and +fishermen shook their heads solemnly, and, said that the Lively Turtle +was a lost ship, and would never come back to port. And poor Anna had +her bombazine gown dyed black, and her straw bonnet trimmed in mourning +ribbons, and thenceforth she was known only as the Widow Matson. + +And how was it all this time with David himself? + +Now you must know that the Mohammedan people of Algiers and Tripoli, and +Mogadore and Sallee, on the Barbary coast, had been for a long time in +the habit of fitting out galleys and armed boats to seize upon the +merchant vessels of Christian nations, and make slaves of their crews +and passengers, just as men calling themselves Christians in America +were sending vessels to Africa to catch black slaves for their +plantations. The Lively Turtle fell into the hands of one of these sea- +robbers, and the crew were taken to Algiers, and sold in the market +place as slaves, poor David Matson among the rest. + +When a boy he had learned the trade of ship-carpenter with his father on +the Merrimac; and now he was set to work in the dock-yards. His master, +who was naturally a kind man, did not overwork him. He had daily his +three loaves of bread, and when his clothing was worn out, its place was +supplied by the coarse cloth of wool and camel's hair woven by the +Berber women. Three hours before sunset he was released from work, and +Friday, which is the Mohammedan Sabhath, was a day of entire rest. Once +a year, at the season called Ramadan, he was left at leisure for a whole +week. So time went on,--days, weeks, months, and years. His dark hair +became gray. He still dreamed of his old home on the Merrimac, and of +his good Anna and the boys. He wondered whether they yet lived, what +they thought of him, and what they were doing. The hope of ever seeing +them again grew fainter and fainter, and at last nearly died out; and he +resigned himself to his fate as a slave for life. + +But one day a handsome middle-aged gentleman, in the dress of one of his +own countrymen, attended by a great officer of the Dey, entered the +ship-yard, and called up before him the American captives. The stranger +was none other than Joel Barlow, Commissioner of the United States to +procure the liberation of slaves belonging to that government. He took +the men by the hand as they came up, and told them that they were free. +As you might expect, the poor fellows were very grateful; some laughed, +some wept for joy, some shouted and sang, and threw up their caps, while +others, with David Matson among them, knelt down on the chips, and +thanked God for the great deliverance. + +"This is a very affecting scene," said the commissioner, wiping his +eyes. "I must keep the impression of it for my 'Columbiad';" and +drawing out his tablet, he proceeded to write on the spot an apostrophe +to Freedom, which afterwards found a place in his great epic. + +David Matson had saved a little money during his captivity by odd jobs +and work on holidays. He got a passage to Malaga, where he bought a +nice shawl for his wife and a watch for each of his boys. He then went +to the quay, where an American ship was lying just ready to sail for +Boston. + +Almost the first man he saw on board was Pelatiah Curtis, who had rowed +him down to the port seven years before. He found that his old neighbor +did not know him, so changed was he with his long beard and Moorish +dress, whereupon, without telling his name, he began to put questions +about his old home, and finally asked him if he knew a Mrs. Matson. + +"I rather think I do," said Pelatiah; "she's my wife." + +"Your wife!" cried the other. "She is mine before God and man. I am +David Matson, and she is the mother of my children." + +"And mine too!" said Pelatiah. "I left her with a baby in her arms. +If you are David Matson, your right to her is outlawed; at any rate she +is mine, and I am not the man to give her up." + +"God is great!" said poor David Matson, unconsciously repeating the +familiar words of Moslem submission. "His will be done. I loved her, +but I shall never see her again. Give these, with my blessing, to the +good woman and the boys," and he handed over, with a sigh, the little +bundle containing the gifts for his wife and children. + +He shook hands with his rival. "Pelatiah," he said, looking back as he +left the ship, "be kind to Anna and my boys." + +"Ay, ay, sir!" responded the sailor in a careless tone. He watched the +poor man passing slowly up the narrow street until out of sight. "It's +a hard case for old David," he said, helping himself to a fresh quid of +tobacco, "but I 'm glad I 've seen the last of him." + +When Pelatiah Curtis reached home he told Anna the story of her husband +and laid his gifts in her lap. She did not shriek nor faint, for she +was a healthy woman with strong nerves; but she stole away by herself +and wept bitterly. She lived many years after, but could never be +persuaded to wear the pretty shawl which the husband of her youth had +sent as his farewell gift. There is, however, a tradition that, in +accordance with her dying wish, it was wrapped about her poor old +shoulders in the coffin, and buried with her. + +The little old bull's-eye watch, which is still in the possession of one +of her grandchildren, is now all that remains to tell of David Matson,-- +the lost man. + + + + +THE FISH I DID N'T CATCH. + + Published originally in The Little Pilgrim, Philadelphia, 1843. + +OUR old homestead (the house was very old for a new country, having been +built about the time that the Prince of, Orange drove out James the +Second) nestled under a long range of hills which stretched off to the +west. It was surrounded by woods in all directions save to the +southeast, where a break in the leafy wall revealed a vista of low green +meadows, picturesque with wooded islands and jutting capes of upland. +Through these, a small brook, noisy enough as it foamed, rippled, and +laughed down its rocky falls by our gardenside, wound, silently and +scarcely visible, to a still larger stream, known as the Country Brook. +This brook in its turn, after doing duty at two or three saw and grist +mills, the clack of which we could hear in still days across the +intervening woodlands, found its way to the great river, and the river +took it up and bore it down to the great sea. + +I have not much reason for speaking well of these meadows, or rather +bogs, for they were wet most of the year; but in the early days they +were highly prized by the settlers, as they furnished natural mowing +before the uplands could be cleared of wood and stones and laid down to +grass. There is a tradition that the hay-harvesters of two adjoining +towns quarrelled about a boundary question, and fought a hard battle one +summer morning in that old time, not altogether bloodless, but by no +means as fatal as the fight between the rival Highland clans, described +by Scott in "The Fair Maid of Perth." I used to wonder at their folly, +when I was stumbling over the rough hassocks, and sinking knee-deep in +the black mire, raking the sharp sickle-edged grass which we used to +feed out to the young cattle in midwinter when the bitter cold gave them +appetite for even such fodder. I had an almost Irish hatred of snakes, +and these meadows were full of them,--striped, green, dingy water- +snakes, and now and then an ugly spotted adder by no means pleasant to +touch with bare feet. There were great black snakes, too, in the ledges +of the neighboring knolls; and on one occasion in early spring I found +myself in the midst of a score at least of them,--holding their wicked +meeting of a Sabbath morning on the margin of a deep spring in the +meadows. One glimpse at their fierce shining beads in the sunshine, as +they roused themselves at my approach, was sufficient to send me at full +speed towards the nearest upland. The snakes, equally scared, fled in +the same direction; and, looking back, I saw the dark monsters following +close at my heels, terrible as the Black Horse rebel regiment at Bull +Run. I had, happily, sense enough left to step aside and let the ugly +troop glide into the bushes. + +Nevertheless, the meadows had their redeeming points. In spring +mornings the blackbirds and bobolinks made them musical with songs; and +in the evenings great bullfrogs croaked and clamored; and on summer +nights we loved to watch the white wreaths of fog rising and drifting in +the moonlight like troops of ghosts, with the fireflies throwing up ever +and anon signals of their coming. But the Brook was far more +attractive, for it had sheltered bathing-places, clear and white sanded, +and weedy stretches, where the shy pickerel loved to linger, and deep +pools, where the stupid sucker stirred the black mud with his fins. I +had followed it all the way from its birthplace among the pleasant New +Hampshire hills, through the sunshine of broad, open meadows, and under +the shadow of thick woods. It was, for the most part, a sober, quiet +little river; but at intervals it broke into a low, rippling laugh over +rocks and trunks of fallen trees. There had, so tradition said, once +been a witch-meeting on its banks, of six little old women in short, +sky-blue cloaks; and if a drunken teamster could be credited, a ghost +was once seen bobbing for eels under Country Bridge. It ground our corn +and rye for us, at its two grist-mills; and we drove our sheep to it for +their spring washing, an anniversary which was looked forward to with +intense delight, for it was always rare fun for the youngsters. +Macaulay has sung,-- + + "That year young lads in Umbro + Shall plunge the struggling sheep;" + +and his picture of the Roman sheep-washing recalled, when we read it, +similar scenes in the Country Brook. On its banks we could always find +the earliest and the latest wild flowers, from the pale blue, three- +lobed hepatica, and small, delicate wood-anemone, to the yellow bloom of +the witch-hazel burning in the leafless October woods. + +Yet, after all, I think the chief attraction of the Brook to my brother +and myself was the fine fishing it afforded us. Our bachelor uncle who +lived with us (there has always been one of that unfortunate class in +every generation of our family) was a quiet, genial man, much given to +hunting and fishing; and it was one of the great pleasures of our young +life to accompany him on his expeditions to Great Hill, Brandy-brow +Woods, the Pond, and, best of all, to the Country Brook. We were quite +willing to work hard in the cornfield or the haying-lot to finish the +necessary day's labor in season for an afternoon stroll through the +woods and along the brookside. I remember my first fishing excursion as +if it were but yesterday. I have been happy many times in my life, but +never more intensely so than when I received that first fishing-pole +from my uncle's hand, and trudged off with him through the woods and +meadows. It was a still sweet day of early summer; the long afternoon +shadows of the trees lay cool across our path; the leaves seemed +greener, the flowers brighter, the birds merrier, than ever before. +My uncle, who knew by long experience where were the best haunts of +pickerel, considerately placed me at the most favorable point. I threw +out my line as I had so often seen others, and waited anxiously for a +bite, moving the bait in rapid jerks on the surface of the water in +imitation of the leap of a frog. Nothing came of it. "Try again," said +my uncle. Suddenly the bait sank out of sight. "Now for it," thought +I; "here is a fish at last." I made a strong pull, and brought up a +tangle of weeds. Again and again I cast out my line with aching arms, +and drew it back empty. I looked to my uncle appealingly. "Try once +more," he said. "We fishermen must have patience." + +Suddenly something tugged at my line and swept off with it into deep +water. Jerking it up, I saw a fine pickerel wriggling in the sun. +"Uncle!" I cried, looking back in uncontrollable excitement, "I've got a +fish!" "Not yet," said my uncle. As he spoke there was a plash in the +water; I caught the arrowy gleam of a scared fish shooting into the +middle of the stream; my hook hung empty from the line. I had lost my +prize. + +We are apt to speak of the sorrows of childhood as trifles in comparison +with those of grown-up people; but we may depend upon it the young folks +don't agree with us. Our griefs, modified and restrained by reason, +experience, and self-respect, keep the proprieties, and, if possible, +avoid a scene; but the sorrow of childhood, unreasoning and all- +absorbing, is a complete abandonment to the passion. The doll's nose is +broken, and the world breaks up with it; the marble rolls out of sight, +and the solid globe rolls off with the marble. + +So, overcome by my great and bitter disappointment, I sat down on the +nearest hassock, and for a time refused to be comforted, even by my +uncle's assurance that there were more fish in the brook. He refitted +my bait, and, putting the pole again in my hands, told me to try my luck +once more. + +"But remember, boy," he said, with his shrewd smile, "never brag of +catching a fish until he is on dry ground. I've seen older folks doing +that in more ways than one, and so making fools of themselves. It 's no +use to boast of anything until it 's done, nor then either, for it +speaks for itself." + +How often since I have been reminded of the fish that I did not catch! +When I hear people boasting of a work as yet undone, and trying to +anticipate the credit which belongs only to actual achievement, I call +to mind that scene by the brookside, and the wise caution of my uncle in +that particular instance takes the form of a proverb of universal +application: "Never brag of your fish before you catch him." + + + + +YANKEE GYPSIES. + + "Here's to budgets, packs, and wallets; Here's to all the wandering + train." + BURNS. + +I CONFESS it, I am keenly sensitive to "skyey influences." I profess no +indifference to the movements of that capricious old gentleman known as +the clerk of the weather. I cannot conceal my interest in the behavior +of that patriarchal bird whose wooden similitude gyrates on the church +spire. Winter proper is well enough. Let the thermometer go to zero if +it will; so much the better, if thereby the very winds are frozen and +unable to flap their stiff wings. Sounds of bells in the keen air, +clear, musical, heart-inspiring; quick tripping of fair moccasined feet +on glittering ice pavements; bright eyes glancing above the uplifted +muff like a sultana's behind the folds of her _yashmac_; schoolboys +coasting down street like mad Greenlanders; the cold brilliance of +oblique sunbeams flashing back from wide surfaces of glittering snow or +blazing upon ice jewelry of tree and roof. There is nothing in all this +to complain of. A storm of summer has its redeeming sublimities,--its +slow, upheaving mountains of cloud glooming in the western horizon like +new-created volcanoes, veined with fire, shattered by exploding +thunders. Even the wild gales of the equinox have their varieties, +--sounds of wind-shaken woods and waters, creak and clatter of sign and +casement, hurricane puffs and down-rushing rain-spouts. But this dull, +dark autumn day of thaw and rain, when the very clouds seem too +spiritless and languid to storm outright or take themselves out of the +way of fair weather; wet beneath and above; reminding one of that +rayless atmosphere of Dante's Third Circle, where the infernal +Priessnitz administers his hydropathic torment,-- + + "A heavy, cursed, and relentless drench,-- + The land it soaks is putrid;" + +or rather, as everything animate and inanimate is seething in warm mist, +suggesting the idea that Nature, grown old and rheumatic, is trying the +efficacy of a Thompsonian steam-box on a grand scale; no sounds save the +heavy plash of muddy feet on the pavements; the monotonous melancholy +drip from trees and roofs; the distressful gurgling of waterducts, +swallowing the dirty amalgam of the gutters; a dim, leaden-colored +horizon of only a few yards in diameter, shutting down about one, beyond +which nothing is visible save in faint line or dark projection; the +ghost of a church spire or the eidolon of a chimney-pot. He who can +extract pleasurable emotions from the alembic of such a day has a trick +of alchemy with which I am wholly unacquainted. + +Hark! a rap at my door. Welcome anybody just now. One gains nothing by +attempting to shut out the sprites of the weather. They come in at the +keyhole; they peer through the dripping panes; they insinuate themselves +through the crevices of the casement, or plump down chimney astride of +the rain-drops. + +I rise and throw open the door. A tall, shambling, loose-jointed +figure; a pinched, shrewd face, sun-browned and wind-dried; small, +quick-winking black eyes. There he stands, the water dripping from his +pulpy hat and ragged elbows. + +I speak to him, but he returns no answer. With a dumb show of misery, +quite touching, he hands me a soiled piece of parchment, whereon I read +what purports to be a melancholy account of shipwreck and disaster, to +the particular detriment, loss, and damnification of one Pietro Frugoni, +who is, in consequence, sorely in want of the alms of all charitable +Christian persons, and who is, in short, the bearer of this veracious +document, duly certified and indorsed by an Italian consul in one of our +Atlantic cities, of a high-sounding, but to Yankee organs +unpronounceable name. + +Here commences a struggle. Every man, the Mohammedans tell us, has two +attendant angels,--the good one on his right shoulder, the bad on his +left. "Give," says Benevolence, as with some difficulty I fish up a +small coin from the depths of my pocket. "Not a cent," says selfish +Prudence; and I drop it from my fingers. "Think," says the good angel, +"of the poor stranger in a strange land, just escaped from the terrors +of the sea-storm, in which his little property has perished, thrown +half-naked and helpless on our shores, ignorant of our language, and +unable to find employment suited to his capacity." "A vile impostor!" +replies the lefthand sentinel. "His paper, purchased from one of those +ready-writers in New York who manufacture beggar-credentials at the low +price of one dollar per copy, with earthquakes, fires, or shipwrecks, to +suit customers." + +Amidst this confusion of tongues I take another survey of my visitant. +Ha! a light dawns upon me. That shrewd old face, with its sharp, +winking eyes, is no stranger to me. Pietro Frugoni, I have seen thee +before. Si, signor, that face of thine has looked at me over a dirty +white neckcloth, with the corners of that cunning mouth drawn downwards, +and those small eyes turned up in sanctimonious gravity, while thou wast +offering to a crowd of halfgrown boys an extemporaneous exhortation in +the capacity of a travelling preacher. Have I not seen it peering out +from under a blanket, as that of a poor Penobscot Indian, who had lost +the use of his hands while trapping on the Madawaska? Is it not the +face of the forlorn father of six small children, whom the "marcury +doctors" had "pisened" and crippled? Did it not belong to that down- +East unfortunate who had been out to the "Genesee country" and got the +"fevern-nager," and whose hand shook so pitifully when held out to +receive my poor gift? The same, under all disguises,--Stephen Leathers, +of Barrington,--him, and none other! Let me conjure him into his own +likeness:-- + +"Well, Stephen, what news from old Barrington?" + +"Oh, well, I thought I knew ye," he answers, not the least disconcerted. +"How do you do? and how's your folks? All well, I hope. I took this +'ere paper, you see, to help a poor furriner, who couldn't make himself +understood any more than a wild goose. I thought I 'd just start him +for'ard a little. It seemed a marcy to do it." + +Well and shiftily answered, thou ragged Proteus. One cannot be angry +with such a fellow. I will just inquire into the present state of his +Gospel mission and about the condition of his tribe on the Penobscot; +and it may be not amiss to congratulate him on the success of the steam- +doctors in sweating the "pisen" of the regular faculty out of him. But +he evidently has no'wish to enter into idle conversation. Intent upon +his benevolent errand, he is already clattering down stairs. +Involuntarily I glance out of the window just in season to catch a +single glimpse of him ere he is swallowed up in the mist. + +He has gone; and, knave as he is, I can hardly help exclaiming, "Luck go +with him!" He has broken in upon the sombre train of my thoughts and +called up before me pleasant and grateful recollections. The old farm- +house nestling in its valley; hills stretching off to the south and +green meadows to the east; the small stream which came noisily down its +ravine, washing the old garden-wall and softly lapping on fallen stones +and mossy roots of beeches and hemlocks; the tall sentinel poplars at +the gateway; the oak-forest, sweeping unbroken to the northern horizon; +the grass-grown carriage-path, with its rude and crazy bridge,--the dear +old landscape of my boyhood lies outstretched before me like a +daguerreotype from that picture within which I have borne with me in all +my wanderings. I am a boy again, once more conscious of the feeling, +half terror, half exultation, with which I used to announce the approach +of this very vagabond and his "kindred after the flesh." + +The advent of wandering beggars, or "old stragglers," as we were wont +to call them, was an event of no ordinary interest in the generally +monotonous quietude of our farm-life. Many of them were well known; +they had their periodical revolutions and transits; we could calculate +them like eclipses or new moons. Some were sturdy knaves, fat and +saucy; and, whenever they ascertained that the "men folks" were absent, +would order provisions and cider like men who expected to pay for them, +seating themselves at the hearth or table with the air of Falstaff,-- +"Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn?" Others, poor, pale, patient, +like Sterne's monk, came creeping up to the door, hat in hand, standing +there in their gray wretchedness with a look of heartbreak and +forlornness which was never without its effect on our juvenile +sensibilities. At times, however, we experienced a slight revulsion of +feeling when even these humblest children of sorrow somewhat petulantly +rejected our proffered bread and cheese, and demanded instead a glass of +cider. Whatever the temperance society might in such cases have done, +it was not in our hearts to refuse the poor creatures a draught of their +favorite beverage; and was n't it a satisfaction to see their sad, +melancholy faces light up as we handed them the full pitcher, and, on +receiving it back empty from their brown, wrinkled hands, to hear them, +half breathless from their long, delicious draught, thanking us for the +favor, as "dear, good children!" Not unfrequently these wandering tests +of our benevolence made their appearance in interesting groups of man, +woman, and child, picturesque in their squalidness, and manifesting a +maudlin affection which would have done honor to the revellers at +Poosie-Nansie's, immortal in the cantata of Burns. I remember some who +were evidently the victims of monomania,--haunted and hunted by some +dark thought,--possessed by a fixed idea. One, a black-eyed, wild- +haired woman, with a whole tragedy of sin, shame, and suffering written +in her countenance, used often to visit us, warm herself by our winter +fire, and supply herself with a stock of cakes and cold meat; but was +never known to answer a question or to ask one. She never smiled; the +cold, stony look of her eye never changed; a silent, impassive face, +frozen rigid by some great wrong or sin. We used to look with awe upon +the "still woman," and think of the demoniac of Scripture who had a +"dumb spirit." + +One--I think I see him now, grim, gaunt, and ghastly, working his slow +way up to our door--used to gather herbs by the wayside and call himself +doctor. He was bearded like a he goat and used to counterfeit lameness, +yet, when he supposed himself alone, would travel on lustily as if +walking for a wager. At length, as if in punishment of his deceit, he +met with an accident in his rambles and became lame in earnest, hobbling +ever after with difficulty on his gnarled crutches. Another used to go +stooping, like Bunyan's pilgrim, under a pack made of an old bed- +sacking, stuffed out into most plethoric dimensions, tottering on a pair +of small, meagre legs, and peering out with his wild, hairy face from +under his burden like a big-bodied spider. That "man with the pack" +always inspired me with awe and reverence. Huge, almost sublime, in its +tense rotundity, the father of all packs, never laid aside and never +opened, what might there not be within it? With what flesh-creeping +curiosity I used to walk round about it at a safe distance, half +expecting to see its striped covering stirred by the motions of a +mysterious life, or that some evil monster would leap out of it, like +robbers from Ali Baba's jars or armed men from the Trojan horse! + +There was another class of peripatetic philosophers--half pedler, half +mendicant--who were in the habit of visiting us. One we recollect, a +lame, unshaven, sinister-eyed, unwholesome fellow, with his basket of +old newspapers and pamphlets, and his tattered blue umbrella, serving +rather as a walking staff than as a protection from the rain. He told +us on one occasion, in answer to our inquiring into the cause of his +lameness, that when a young man he was employed on the farm of the chief +magistrate of a neighboring State; where, as his ill-luck would have it, +the governor's handsome daughter fell in love with him. He was caught +one day in the young lady's room by her father; whereupon the irascible +old gentleman pitched him unceremoniously out of the window, laming him +for life, on the brick pavement below, like Vulcan on the rocks of +Lemnos. As for the lady, he assured us "she took on dreadfully about +it." "Did she die?" we inquired anxiously. There was a cun-ing +twinkle in the old rogue's eye as he responded, "Well, no, she did n't. +She got married." + +Twice a year, usually in the spring and autumn, we were honored with a +call from Jonathan Plummer, maker of verses, pedler and poet, physician +and parson,--a Yankee troubadour,--first and last minstrel of the valley +of the Merrimac, encircled, to my wondering young eyes, with the very +nimbus of immortality. He brought with him pins, needles, tape, and +cotton-thread for my mother; jack-knives, razors, and soap for my +father; and verses of his own composing, coarsely printed and +illustrated with rude wood-cuts, for the delectation of the younger +branches of the family. No lovesick youth could drown himself, no +deserted maiden bewail the moon, no rogue mount the gallows, without +fitting memorial in Plummer's verses. Earthquakes, fires, fevers, and +shipwrecks he regarded as personal favors from Providence, furnishing +the raw material of song and ballad. Welcome to us in our country +seclusion as Autolycus to the clown in Winter's Tale, we listened with +infinite satisfaction to his readings of his own verses, or to his ready +improvisation upon some domestic incident or topic suggested by his +auditors. When once fairly over the difficulties at the outset of a new +subject, his rhymes flowed freely, "as if he had eaten ballads and all +men's ears grew to his tunes." His productions answered, as nearly as I +can remember, to Shakespeare's description of a proper ballad,--"doleful +matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant theme sung lamentably." He +was scrupulously conscientious, devout, inclined to theological +disquisitions, and withal mighty in Scripture. He was thoroughly +independent; flattered nobody, cared for nobody, trusted nobody. When +invited to sit down at our dinner-table, he invariably took the +precaution to place his basket of valuables between his legs for safe +keeping. "Never mind thy basket, Jonathan," said my father; "we +sha'n't steal thy verses."--"I'm not sure of that," returned the +suspicious guest. "It is written, 'Trust ye not in any brother.'" + +Thou too, O Parson B------, with thy pale student's brow and rubicund +nose, with thy rusty and tattered black coat overswept by white flowing +locks, with thy professional white neckcloth scrupulously preserved when +even a shirt to thy back was problematical,--art by no means to be +overlooked in the muster-roll of vagrant gentlemen possessing the entree +of our farm-house. Well do we remember with what grave and dignified +courtesy he used to step over its threshold, saluting its inmates with +the same air of gracious condescension and patronage with which in +better days he had delighted the hearts of his parishioners. Poor old +man! He had once been the admired and almost worshipped minister of the +largest church in the town where he afterwards found support in the +winter season as a pauper. He had early fallen into intemperate habits; +and at the age of threescore and ten, when I remember him, he was only +sober when he lacked the means of being otherwise. Drunk or sober, +however, he never altogether forgot the proprieties of his profession; +he was always grave, decorous, and gentlemanly; he held fast the form of +sound words, and the weakness of the flesh abated nothing of the rigor +of his stringent theology. He had been a favorite pupil of the learned +and astute Emmons, and was to the last a sturdy defender of the peculiar +dogmas of his school. The last time we saw him he was holding a meeting +in our district school-house, with a vagabond pedler for deacon and +travelling companion. The tie which united the ill-assorted couple was +doubtless the same which endeared Tam O'Shanter to the souter:-- + + "They had been fou for weeks thegither." + +He took for his text the first seven verses of the concluding chapter of +Ecclesiastes, furnishing in himself its fitting illustration. The evil +days had come; the keepers of the house trembled; the windows of life +were darkened. A few months later the silver cord was loosened, the +golden bowl was broken, and between the poor old man and the temptations +which beset him fell the thick curtains of the grave. + +One day we had a call from a "pawky auld carle" of a wandering +Scotchman. To him I owe my first introduction to the songs of Burns. +After eating his bread and cheese and drinking his mug of cider he gave +us Bonny Doon, Highland Mary, and Auld Lang Syne. He had a rich, full +voice, and entered heartily into the spirit of his lyrics. I have since +listened to the same melodies from the lips of Dempster, than whom the +Scottish bard has had no sweeter or truer interpreter; but the skilful +performance of the artist lacked the novel charm of the gaberlunzie's +singing in the old farmhouse kitchen. Another wanderer made us +acquainted with the humorous old ballad of "Our gude man cam hame at +e'en." He applied for supper and lodging, and the next morning was set +at work splitting stones in the pasture. While thus engaged the village +doctor came riding along the highway on his fine, spirited horse, and +stopped to talk with my father. The fellow eyed the animal attentively, +as if familiar with all his good points, and hummed over a stanza of the +old poem:-- + + "Our gude man cam hame at e'en, + And hame cam be; + And there he saw a saddle horse + Where nae horse should be. + 'How cam this horse here? + How can it be? + How cam this horse here + Without the leave of me?' + 'A horse?' quo she. + 'Ay, a horse,' quo he. + 'Ye auld fool, ye blind fool,-- + And blinder might ye be,-- + 'T is naething but a milking cow + My mamma sent to me.' + A milch cow?' quo he. + 'Ay, a milch cow,' quo she. + 'Weel, far hae I ridden, + And muckle hae I seen; + But milking cows wi' saddles on + Saw I never nane.'" + +That very night the rascal decamped, taking with him the doctor's horse, +and was never after heard of. + +Often, in the gray of the morning, we used to see one or more +"gaberlunzie men," pack on shoulder and staff in hand, emerging from the +barn or other outbuildings where they had passed the night. I was once +sent to the barn to fodder the cattle late in the evening, and, climbing +into the mow to pitch down hay for that purpose, I was startled by the +sudden apparition of a man rising up before me, just discernible in the +dim moonlight streaming through the seams of the boards. I made a rapid +retreat down the ladder; and was only reassured by hearing the object of +my terror calling after me, and recognizing his voice as that of a +harmless old pilgrim whom I had known before. Our farm-house was +situated in a lonely valley, half surrounded with woods, with no +neighbors in sight. One dark, cloudy night, when our parents chanced to +be absent, we were sitting with our aged grandmother in the fading light +of the kitchen-fire, working ourselves into a very satisfactory state of +excitement and terror by recounting to each other all the dismal stories +we could remember of ghosts, witches, haunted houses and robbers, when +we were suddenly startled by a loud rap at the door. A stripling of +fourteen, I was very naturally regarded as the head of the household; +so,--with many misgivings, I advanced to the door, which I slowly +opened, holding the candle tremulously above my head and peering out +into the darkness. The feeble glimmer played upon the apparition of a +gigantic horseman, mounted on a steed of a size worthy of such a rider-- +colossal, motionless, like images cut out of the solid night. The +strange visitant gruffly saluted me; and, after making several +ineffectual efforts to urge his horse in at the door, dismounted and +followed me into the room, evidently enjoying the terror which his huge +presence excited. Announcing himself as the great Indian doctor, he +drew himself up before the fire, stretched his arms, clenched his fists, +struck his broad chest, and invited our attention to what he called his +"mortal frame." He demanded in succession all kinds of intoxicating +liquors; and, on being assured that we had none to give him, he grew +angry, threatened to swallow my younger brother alive, and, seizing me +by the hair of my head as the angel did the prophet at Babylon, led me +about from room to room. After an ineffectual search, in the course of +which he mistook a jug of oil for one of brandy, and, contrary to my +explanations and remonstrances, insisted upon swallowing a portion of +its contents, he released me, fell to crying and sobbing, and confessed +that he was so drunk already that his horse was ashamed of him. After +bemoaning and pitying himself to his satisfaction he wiped his eyes, and +sat down by the side of my grandmother, giving her to understand that he +was very much pleased with her appearance; adding, that if agreeable to +her, he should like the privilege of paying his addresses to her. While +vainly endeavoring to make the excellent old lady comprehend his very +flattering proposition, he was interrupted by the return of my father, +who, at once understanding the matter, turned him out of doors without +ceremony. + +On one occasion, a few years ago, on my return from the field at +evening, I was told that a foreigner had asked for lodgings during the +night, but that, influenced by his dark, repulsive appearance, my mother +had very reluctantly refused his request. I found her by no means +satisfied with her decision. "What if a son of mine was in a strange +land?" she inquired, self-reproachfully. Greatly to her relief, I +volunteered to go in pursuit of the wanderer, and, taking a cross-path +over the fields, soon overtook him. He had just been rejected at the +house of our nearest neighbor, and was standing in a state of dubious +perplexity in the street. His looks quite justified my mother's +suspicions. He was an olive-complexioned, black-bearded Italian, with +an eye like a live coal, such a face as perchance looks out on the +traveller in the passes of the Abruzzi,--one of those bandit visages +which Salvator has painted. With some difficulty I gave him to +understand my errand, when he overwhelmed me with thanks, and joyfully +followed me back. He took his seat with us at the supper-table; and, +when we were all gathered around the hearth that cold autumnal evening, +he told us, partly by words and, partly by gestures, the story of his +life and misfortunes, amused us with descriptions of the grape- +gatherings and festivals of his sunny clime, edified my mother with a +recipe for making bread of chestnuts; and in the morning, when, after +breakfast, his dark, sullen face lighted up and his fierce eye moistened +with grateful emotion as in his own silvery Tuscan accent he poured out +his thanks, we marvelled at the fears which had so nearly closed our +door against him; and, as he departed, we all felt that he had left with +us the blessing of the poor. + +It was not often that, as in the above instance, my mother's prudence +got the better of her charity. The regular "old stragglers" regarded +her as an unfailing friend; and the sight of her plain cap was to them +an assurance of forthcoming creature-comforts. There was indeed a tribe +of lazy strollers, having their place of rendezvous in the town of +Barrington, New Hampshire, whose low vices had placed them beyond even +the pale of her benevolence. They were not unconscious of their evil +reputation; and experience had taught them the necessity of concealing, +under well-contrived disguises, their true character. They came to us +in all shapes and with all appearances save the true one, with most +miserable stories of mishap and sickness and all "the ills which flesh +is heir to." It was particularly vexatious to discover, when too late, +that our sympathies and charities had been expended upon such graceless +vagabonds as the "Barrington beggars." An old withered hag, known by +the appellation of Hopping Pat,--the wise woman of her tribe,--was in +the habit of visiting us, with her hopeful grandson, who had "a gift for +preaching" as well as for many other things not exactly compatible with +holy orders. He sometimes brought with him a tame crow, a shrewd, +knavish-looking bird, who, when in the humor for it, could talk like +Barnaby Rudge's raven. He used to say he could "do nothin' at exhortin' +without a white handkercher on his neck and money in his pocket,"--a +fact going far to confirm the opinions of the Bishop of Exeter and the +Puseyites generally, that there can be no priest without tithes and +surplice. + +These people have for several generations lived distinct from the great +mass of the community, like the gypsies of Europe, whom in many respects +they closely resemble. They have the same settled aversion to labor and +the same disposition to avail themselves of the fruits of the industry +of others. They love a wild, out-of-door life, sing songs, tell +fortunes, and have an instinctive hatred of "missionaries and cold +water." It has been said--I know not upon what grounds--that their +ancestors were indeed a veritable importation of English gypsyhood; but +if so, they have undoubtedly lost a good deal of the picturesque charm +of its unhoused and free condition. I very much fear that my friend +Mary Russell Mitford,--sweetest of England's rural painters,--who has a +poet's eye for the fine points in gypsy character, would scarcely allow +their claims to fraternity with her own vagrant friends, whose camp- +fires welcomed her to her new home at Swallowfield. + +"The proper study of mankind is man," and, according to my view, no +phase of our common humanity is altogether unworthy of investigation. +Acting upon this belief two or three summers ago, when making, in +company with my sister, a little excursion into the hill-country of New +Hampshire, I turned my horse's head towards Barrington for the purpose +of seeing these semi-civilized strollers in their own home, and +returning, once for all, their numerous visits. Taking leave of our +hospitable cousins in old Lee with about as much solemnity as we may +suppose Major Laing parted with his friends when he set out in search of +desert-girdled Timbuctoo, we drove several miles over a rough road, +passed the Devil's Den unmolested, crossed a fretful little streamlet +noisily working its way into a valley, where it turned a lonely, half- +ruinous mill, and climbing a steep hill beyond, saw before us a wide +sandy level, skirted on the west and north by low, scraggy hills, and +dotted here and there with dwarf pitch-pines. In the centre of this +desolate region were some twenty or thirty small dwellings, grouped +together as irregularly as a Hottentot kraal. Unfenced, unguarded, open +to all comers and goers, stood that city of the beggars,--no wall or +paling between the ragged cabins to remind one of the jealous +distinctions of property. The great idea of its founders seemed visible +in its unappropriated freedom. Was not the whole round world their own? +and should they haggle about boundaries and title-deeds? For them, on +distant plains, ripened golden harvests; for them, in far-off workshops, +busy hands were toiling; for them, if they had but the grace to note it, +the broad earth put on her garniture of beauty, and over them hung the +silent mystery of heaven and its stars. That comfortable philosophy +which modern transcendentalism has but dimly shadowed forth--that poetic +agrarianism, which gives all to each and each to all--is the real life +of this city of unwork. To each of its dingy dwellers might be not +unaptly applied the language of one who, I trust, will pardon me for +quoting her beautiful poem in this connection:-- + + "Other hands may grasp the field or forest, + Proud proprietors in pomp may shine; + Thou art wealthier,--all the world is thine." + + +But look! the clouds are breaking. "Fair weather cometh out of the +north." The wind has blown away the mists; on the gilded spire of John +Street glimmers a beam of sunshine; and there is the sky again, hard, +blue, and cold in its eternal purity, not a whit the worse for the +storm. In the beautiful present the past is no longer needed. +Reverently and gratefully let its volume be laid aside; and when again +the shadows of the outward world fall upon the spirit, may I not lack a +good angel to remind me of its solace, even if he comes in the shape of +a Barrington beggar. + + + + +THE TRAINING. + + "Send for the milingtary." + NOAH CLAYPOLE in Oliver Twist. + +WHAT'S now in the wind? Sounds of distant music float in at my window +on this still October air. Hurrying drum-beat, shrill fife-tones, +wailing bugle-notes, and, by way of accompaniment, hurrahs from the +urchins on the crowded sidewalks. Here come the citizen-soldiers, each +martial foot beating up the mud of yesterday's storm with the slow, +regular, up-and-down movement of an old-fashioned churn-dasher. Keeping +time with the feet below, some threescore of plumed heads bob solemnly +beneath me. Slant sunshine glitters on polished gun-barrels and +tinselled uniform. Gravely and soberly they pass on, as if duly +impressed with a sense of the deep responsibility of their position as +self-constituted defenders of the world's last hope,--the United States +of America, and possibly Texas. They look out with honest, citizen +faces under their leathern visors (their ferocity being mostly the work +of the tailor and tinker), and, I doubt not, are at this moment as +innocent of bloodthirstiness as yonder worthy tiller of the Tewksbury +Hills, who sits quietly in his wagon dispensing apples and turnips +without so much as giving a glance at the procession. Probably there is +not one of them who would hesitate to divide his last tobacco-quid with +his worst enemy. Social, kind-hearted, psalm-singing, sermon-hearing, +Sabhath-keeping Christians; and yet, if we look at the fact of the +matter, these very men have been out the whole afternoon of this +beautiful day, under God's holy sunshine, as busily at work as Satan +himself could wish in learning how to butcher their fellow-creatures and +acquire the true scientific method of impaling a forlorn Mexican on a +bayonet, or of sinking a leaden missile in the brain of some unfortunate +Briton, urged within its range by the double incentive of sixpence per +day in his pocket and the cat-o'-nine-tails on his back! + +Without intending any disparagement of my peaceable ancestry for many +generations, I have still strong suspicions that somewhat of the old +Norman blood, something of the grins Berserker spirit, has been +bequeathed to me. How else can I account for the intense childish +eagerness with which I listened to the stories of old campaigners who +sometimes fought their battles over again in my hearing? Why did I, +in my young fancy, go up with Jonathan, the son of Saul, to smite the +garrisoned Philistines of Michmash, or with the fierce son of Nun +against the cities of Canaan? Why was Mr. Greatheart, in Pilgrim's +Progress, my favorite character? What gave such fascination to the +narrative of the grand Homeric encounter between Christian and Apollyon +in the valley? Why did I follow Ossian over Morven's battle-fields, +exulting in the vulture-screams of the blind scald over his fallen +enemies? Still later, why did the newspapers furnish me with subjects +for hero-worship in the half-demented Sir Gregor McGregor, and Ypsilanti +at the head of his knavish Greeks? I can account for it only in the +supposition that the mischief was inhered,--an heirloom from the old +sea-kings of the ninth century. + +Education and reflection have, indeed, since wrought a change in my +feelings. The trumpet of the Cid, or Ziska's drum even, could not now +waken that old martial spirit. The bull-dog ferocity of a half- +intoxicated Anglo-Saxon, pushing his blind way against the converging +cannon-fire from the shattered walls of Ciudad Rodrigo, commends itself +neither to my reason nor my fancy. I now regard the accounts of the +bloody passage of the Bridge of Lodi, and of French cuirassiers madly +transfixing themselves upon the bayonets of Wellington's squares, with +very much the same feeling of horror and loathing which is excited by a +detail of the exploits of an Indian Thug, or those of a mad Malay +running a-muck, creese in hand, through the streets of Pulo Penang. +Your Waterloo, and battles of the Nile and Baltic,--what are they, in +sober fact, but gladiatorial murder-games on a great scale,--human +imitations of bull-fights, at which Satan sits as grand alguazil and +master of ceremonies? It is only when a great thought incarnates itself +in action, desperately striving to find utterance even in sabre-clash +and gun-fire, or when Truth and Freedom, in their mistaken zeal and +distrustful of their own powers, put on battle-harness, that I can feel +any sympathy with merely physical daring. The brawny butcher-work of +men whose wits, like those of Ajax, lie in their sinews, and who are +"yoked like draught-oxen and made to plough up the wars," is no +realization of my ideal of true courage. + +Yet I am not conscious of having lost in any degree my early admiration +of heroic achievement. The feeling remains; but it has found new and +better objects. I have learned to appreciate what Milton calls the +martyr's "unresistible might of meekness,"--the calm, uncomplaining +endurance of those who can bear up against persecution uncheered by +sympathy or applause, and, with a full and keen appreciation of the +value of all which they are called to sacrifice, confront danger and +death in unselfish devotion to duty. Fox, preaching through his prison- +gates or rebuking Oliver Cromwell in the midst of his soldier-court +Henry Vane beneath the axe of the headsman; Mary Dyer on the scaffold at +Boston; Luther closing his speech at Worms with the sublime emphasis of +his "Here stand I; I cannot otherwise; God help me;" William Penn +defending the rights of Englishmen from the baledock of the Fleet +prison; Clarkson climbing the decks of Liverpool slaveships; Howard +penetrating to infected dungeons; meek Sisters of Charity breathing +contagion in thronged hospitals,--all these, and such as these, now help +me to form the loftier ideal of Christian heroism. + +Blind Milton approaches nearly to my conception of a true hero. What a +picture have we of that sublime old man, as sick, poor, blind, and +abandoned of friends, he still held fast his heroic integrity, rebuking +with his unbending republicanism the treachery, cowardice, and servility +of his old associates! He had outlived the hopes and beatific visions +of his youth; he had seen the loudmouthed advocates of liberty throwing +down a nation's freedom at the feet of the shameless, debauched, and +perjured Charles II., crouching to the harlot-thronged court of the +tyrant, and forswearing at once their religion and their republicanism. +The executioner's axe had been busy among his friends. Vane and Hampden +slept in their bloody graves. Cromwell's ashes had been dragged from +their resting-place; for even in death the effeminate monarch hated and +feared the conquerer of Naseby and Marston Moor. He was left alone, in +age, and penury, and blindness, oppressed with the knowledge that all +which his free soul abhorred had returned upon his beloved country. Yet +the spirit of the stern old republican remained to the last unbroken, +realizing the truth of the language of his own Samson Agonistes:-- + + "But patience is more oft the exercise + Of saints, the trial of their fortitude, + Making them each his own deliverer + And victor over all + That tyranny or fortune can inflict." + +The curse of religious and political apostasy lay heavy on the land. +Harlotry and atheism sat in the high places; and the "caresses of +wantons and the jests of buffoons regulated the measures of a government +which had just ability enough to deceive, just religion enough to +persecute." But, while Milton mourned over this disastrous change, +no self-reproach mingled with his sorrow. To the last he had striven +against the oppressor; and when confined to his narrow alley, a prisoner +in his own mean dwelling, like another Prometheus on his rock, he still +turned upon him an eye of unsubdued defiance. Who, that has read his +powerful appeal to his countrymen when they were on the eve of welcoming +back the tyranny and misrule which, at the expense of so much blood and +treasure had been thrown off, can ever forget it? How nobly does +Liberty speak through him! "If," said he, "ye welcome back a monarchy, +it will be the triumph of all tyrants hereafter over any people who +shall resist oppression; and their song shall then be to others, 'How +sped the rebellious English?' but to our posterity, 'How sped the +rebels, your fathers?'" How solemn and awful is his closing paragraph! +"What I have spoken is the language of that which is not called amiss +'the good old cause.' If it seem strange to any, it will not, I hope, +seem more strange than convincing to backsliders. This much I should +have said though I were sure I should have spoken only to trees and +stones, and had none to cry to but with the prophet, 'O earth, earth, +earth!' to tell the very soil itself what its perverse inhabitants are +deaf to; nay, though what I have spoken should prove (which Thou suffer +not, who didst make mankind free; nor Thou next, who didst redeem us +from being servants of sin) to be the last words of our expiring +liberties." + + + + +THE CITY OF A DAY. + +The writer, when residing in Lowell, in 1843 contributed this and the +companion pieces to 'The Stranger' in Lowell. + +This, then, is Lowell,--a city springing up, like the enchanted palaces +of the Arabian tales, as it were in a single night, stretching far and +wide its chaos of brick masonry and painted shingles, filling the angle +of the confluence of the Concord and the Merrimac with the sights and +sounds of trade and industry. Marvellously here have art and labor +wrought their modern miracles. I can scarcely realize the fact that a +few years ago these rivers, now tamed and subdued to the purposes of man +and charmed into slavish subjection to the wizard of mechanism, rolled +unchecked towards the ocean the waters of the Winnipesaukee and the +rock-rimmed springs of the White Mountains, and rippled down their falls +in the wild freedom of Nature. A stranger, in view of all this +wonderful change, feels himself, as it were, thrust forward into a new +century; he seems treading on the outer circle of the millennium of +steam engines and cotton mills. Work is here the patron saint. +Everything bears his image and superscription. Here is no place for +that respectable class of citizens called gentlemen, and their much +vilified brethren, familiarly known as loafers. Over the gateways of +this new world Manchester glares the inscription, "Work, or die". +Here + + "Every worm beneath the moon + Draws different threads, and late or soon + Spins, toiling out his own cocoon." + +The founders of this city probably never dreamed of the theory of +Charles Lamb in respect to the origin of labor:-- + + "Who first invented work, and thereby bound + The holiday rejoicing spirit down + To the never-ceasing importunity + Of business in the green fields and the town? + + "Sabbathless Satan,--he who his unglad + Task ever plies midst rotatory burnings + For wrath divine has made him like a wheel + In that red realm from whence are no returnings." + +Rather, of course, would they adopt Carlyle's apostrophe of "Divine +labor, noble, ever fruitful,--the grand, sole miracle of man;" for this +is indeed a city consecrated to thrift,--dedicated, every square rod of +it, to the divinity of work; the gospel of industry preached daily and +hourly from some thirty temples, each huger than the Milan Cathedral or +the Temple of Jeddo, the Mosque of St. Sophia or the Chinese pagoda of a +hundred bells; its mighty sermons uttered by steam and water-power; its +music the everlasting jar of mechanism and the organ-swell of many +waters; scattering the cotton and woollen leaves of its evangel from the +wings of steamboats and rail-cars throughout the land; its thousand +priests and its thousands of priestesses ministering around their +spinning-jenny and powerloom altars, or thronging the long, unshaded +streets in the level light of sunset. After all, it may well be +questioned whether this gospel, according to Poor Richard's Almanac, is +precisely calculated for the redemption of humanity. Labor, graduated +to man's simple wants, necessities, and unperverted tastes, is doubtless +well; but all beyond this is weariness to flesh and spirit. Every web +which falls from these restless looms has a history more or less +connected with sin and suffering, beginning with slavery and ending +with overwork and premature death. + +A few years ago, while travelling in Pennsylvania, I encountered a +small, dusky-browed German of the name of Etzler. He was possessed by a +belief that the world was to be restored to its paradisiacal state by +the sole agency of mechanics, and that he had himself discovered the +means of bringing about this very desirable consummation. His whole +mental atmosphere was thronged with spectral enginery; wheel within +wheel; plans of hugest mechanism; Brobdignagian steam-engines; Niagaras +of water-power; wind-mills with "sail-broad vans," like those of Satan +in chaos, by the proper application of which every valley was to be +exalted and every hill laid low; old forests seized by their shaggy tops +and uprooted; old morasses drained; the tropics made cool; the eternal +ices melted around the poles; the ocean itself covered with artificial +islands, blossoming gardens of the blessed, rocking gently on the bosom +of the deep. Give him "three hundred thousand dollars and ten years' +time," and he would undertake to do the work. + +Wrong, pain, and sin, being in his view but the results of our physical +necessities, ill-gratified desires, and natural yearnings for a better +state, were to vanish before the millennium of mechanism. "It would +be," said he, "as ridiculous then to dispute and quarrel about the means +of life as it would be now about water to drink by the side of mighty +rivers, or about permission to breathe the common air." To his mind the +great forces of Nature took the shape of mighty and benignant spirits, +sent hitherward to be the servants of man in restoring to him his lost +paradise; waiting only for his word of command to apply their giant +energies to the task, but as yet struggling blindly and aimlessly, +giving ever and anon gentle hints, in the way of earthquake, fire, and +flood, that they are weary of idleness, and would fain be set at work. +Looking down, as I now do, upon these huge brick workshops, I have +thought of poor Etzler, and wondered whether he would admit, were he +with me, that his mechanical forces have here found their proper +employment of millennium making. Grinding on, each in his iron harness, +invisible, yet shaking, by his regulated and repressed power, his huge +prison-house from basement to capstone, is it true that the genii of +mechanism are really at work here, raising us, by wheel and pulley, +steam and waterpower, slowly up that inclined plane from whose top +stretches the broad table-land of promise? + +Many of the streets of Lowell present a lively and neat aspect, and are +adorned with handsome public and private buildings; but they lack one +pleasant feature of older towns,--broad, spreading shade-trees. One +feels disposed to quarrel with the characteristic utilitarianism of the +first settlers, which swept so entirely away the green beauty of Nature. +For the last few days it has been as hot here as Nebuchadnezzar's +furnace or Monsieur Chabert's oven, the sun glaring down from a copper +sky upon these naked, treeless streets, in traversing which one is +tempted to adopt the language of a warm-weather poet: + + "The lean, like walking skeletons, go stalking pale and gloomy; + The fat, like red-hot warming-pans, send hotter fancies through me; + I wake from dreams of polar ice, on which I've been a slider, + Like fishes dreaming of the sea and waking in the spider." + +How unlike the elm-lined avenues of New Haven, upon whose cool and +graceful panorama the stranger looks down upon the Judge's Cave, or the +vine-hung pinnacles of West Rock, its tall spires rising white and clear +above the level greenness! or the breezy leafiness of Portland, with its +wooded islands in the distance, and itself overhung with verdant beauty, +rippling and waving in the same cool breeze which stirs the waters of +the beautiful Bay of Casco! But time will remedy all this; and, when +Lowell shall have numbered half the years of her sister cities, her +newly planted elms and maples, which now only cause us to contrast their +shadeless stems with the leafy glory of their parents of the forest, +will stretch out to the future visitor arms of welcome and repose. + +There is one beautiful grove in Lowell,--that on Chapel Hill,--where a +cluster of fine old oaks lift their sturdy stems and green branches, in +close proximity to the crowded city, blending the cool rustle of their +leaves with the din of machinery. As I look at them in this gray +twilight they seem lonely and isolated, as if wondering what has become +of their old forest companions, and vainly endeavoring to recognize in +the thronged and dusty streets before them those old, graceful +colonnades of maple and thick-shaded oaken vistas, stretching from river +to river, carpeted with the flowers and grasses of spring, or ankle deep +with leaves of autumn, through whose leafy canopy the sunlight melted in +upon wild birds, shy deer, and red Indians. Long may these oaks remain +to remind us that, if there be utility in the new, there was beauty in +the old, leafy Puseyites of Nature, calling us back to the past, but, +like their Oxford brethren, calling in vain; for neither in polemics nor +in art can we go backward in an age whose motto is ever "Onward." + +The population of Lowell is constituted mainly of New Englanders; but +there are representatives here of almost every part of the civilized +world. The good-humored face of the Milesian meets one at almost every +turn; the shrewdly solemn Scotchman, the transatlantic Yankee, blending +the crafty thrift of Bryce Snailsfoot with the stern religious heroism +of Cameron; the blue-eyed, fair-haired German from the towered hills +which overlook the Rhine,--slow, heavy, and unpromising in his exterior, +yet of the same mould and mettle of the men who rallied for "fatherland" +at the Tyrtean call of Korner and beat back the chivalry of France from +the banks of the Katzback,--the countrymen of Richter, and Goethe, and +our own Follen. Here, too, are pedlers from Hamburg, and Bavaria, and +Poland, with their sharp Jewish faces, and black, keen eyes. At this +moment, beneath my window are two sturdy, sunbrowned Swiss maidens +grinding music for a livelihood, rehearsing in a strange Yankee land the +simple songs of their old mountain home, reminding me, by their foreign +garb and language, of + + "Lauterbrunnen's peasant girl." + +Poor wanderers, I cannot say that I love their music; but now, as the +notes die away, and, to use the words of Dr. Holmes, "silence comes like +a poultice to heal the wounded ear," I feel grateful for their +visitation. Away from crowded thoroughfares, from brick walls and dusty +avenues, at the sight of these poor peasants I have gone in thought to +the vale of Chamouny, and seen, with Coleridge, the morning star pausing +on the "bald, awful head of sovereign Blanc," and the sun rise and set +upon snowy-crested mountains, down in whose valleys the night still +lingers; and, following in the track of Byron and Rousseau, have watched +the lengthening shadows of the hills on the beautiful waters of the +Genevan lake. Blessings, then, upon these young wayfarers, for they +have "blessed me unawares." In an hour of sickness and lassitude they +have wrought for me the miracle of Loretto's Chapel, and, borne me away +from the scenes around me and the sense of personal suffering to that +wonderful land where Nature seems still uttering, from lake and valley, +and from mountains whose eternal snows lean on the hard, blue heaven, +the echoes of that mighty hymn of a new-created world, when "the morning +stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." + +But of all classes of foreigners the Irish are by far the most numerous. +Light-hearted, wrongheaded, impulsive, uncalculating, with an Oriental +love of hyperbole, and too often a common dislike of cold water and of +that gem which the fable tells us rests at the bottom of the well, the +Celtic elements of their character do not readily accommodate themselves +to those of the hard, cool, self-relying Anglo-Saxon. I am free to +confess to a very thorough dislike of their religious intolerance and +bigotry, but am content to wait for the change that time and the +attrition of new circumstances and ideas must necessarily make in this +respect. Meanwhile I would strive to reverence man as man, irrespective +of his birthplace. A stranger in a strange land is always to me an +object of sympathy and interest. Amidst all his apparent gayety of +heart and national drollery and wit, the poor Irish emigrant has sad +thoughts of the "ould mother of him," sitting lonely in her solitary +cabin by the bog-side; recollections of a father's blessing and a +sister's farewell are haunting him; a grave mound in a distant +churchyard far beyond the "wide wathers" has an eternal greenness in his +memory; for there, perhaps, lies a "darlint child" or a "swate crather" +who once loved him. The new world is forgotten for the moment; blue +Killarney and the Liffey sparkle before him, and Glendalough stretches +beneath him its dark, still mirror; he sees the same evening sunshine +rest upon and hallow alike with Nature's blessing the ruins of the Seven +Churches of Ireland's apostolic age, the broken mound of the Druids, and +the round towers of the Phoenician sun-worshippers; pleasant and +mournful recollections of his home waken within him; and the rough and +seemingly careless and light-hearted laborer melts into tears. It is no +light thing to abandon one's own country and household gods. Touching +and beautiful was the injunction of the prophet of the Hebrews: + +"Ye shall not oppress the stranger; for ye know the heart of the +stranger, seeing that ye were strangers in the land of Egypt." + + + + +PATUCKET FALLS. + +MANY years ago I read, in some old chronicle of the early history of New +England, a paragraph which has ever since haunted my memory, calling up +romantic associations of wild Nature and wilder man:-- + +"The Sachem Wonolanset, who lived by the Groat Falls of Patucket, on the +Merrimac." + +It was with this passage in my mind that I visited for the first time +the Rapids of the Merrimac, above Lowell. + +Passing up the street by the Hospital, a large and elegant mansion +surrounded by trees and shrubbery and climbing vines, I found myself, +after walking a few rods farther, in full view of the Merrimac. A deep +and rocky channel stretched between me and the Dracut shore, along which +rushed the shallow water,--a feeble, broken, and tortuous current, +winding its way among splintered rocks, rising sharp and jagged in all +directions. Drained above the falls by the canal, it resembled some +mountain streamlet of old Spain, or some Arabian wady, exhausted by a +year's drought. Higher up, the arches of the bridge spanned the quick, +troubled water; and, higher still, the dam, so irregular in its outline +as to seem less a work of Art than of Nature, crossed the bed of the +river, a lakelike placidity above contrasting with the foam and murmur +of the falls below. And this was all which modern improvements had left +of "the great Patucket Falls" of the olden time. The wild river had +been tamed; the spirit of the falls, whose hoarse voice the Indian once +heard in the dashing of the great water down the rocks, had become the +slave of the arch conjurer, Art; and, like a shorn and blinded giant, +was grinding in the prison-house of his taskmaster. + +One would like to know how this spot must have seemed to the "twenty +goodlie persons from Concord and Woburn" who first visited it in 1652, +as, worn with fatigue, and wet from the passage of the sluggish Concord, +"where ford there was none," they wound their slow way through the +forest, following the growing murmur of the falls, until at length the +broad, swift river stretched before them, its white spray flashing in +the sun. What cared these sturdy old Puritans for the wild beauty of +the landscape thus revealed before them? I think I see them standing +there in the golden light of a closing October day, with their sombre +brown doublets and slouched hats, and their heavy matchlocks,--such men +as Ireton fronted death with on the battle-field of Naseby, or those who +stalked with Cromwell over the broken wall of Drogheda, smiting, "in the +name of the Lord," old and young, "both maid, and little children." +Methinks I see the sunset light flooding the river valley, the western +hills stretching to the horizon, overhung with trees gorgeous and +glowing with the tints of autumn,--a mighty flower-garden, blossoming +under the spell of the enchanter, Frost; the rushing river, with its +graceful water-curves and white foam; and a steady murmur, low, deep +voices of water, the softest, sweetest sound of Nature, blends with the +sigh of the south wind in the pine-tops. But these hard-featured saints +of the New Canaan "care for none of these things." The stout hearts +which beat under their leathern doublets are proof against the sweet +influences of Nature. They see only "a great and howling wilderness, +where be many Indians, but where fish may be taken, and where be meadows +for ye subsistence of cattle," and which, on the whole, "is a +comfortable place to accommodate a company of God's people upon, who +may, with God's blessing, do good in that place for both church and +state." (Vide petition to the General Court, 1653.) + +In reading the journals and narratives of the early settlers of New +England nothing is more remarkable than the entire silence of the worthy +writers in respect to the natural beauty or grandeur of the scenery amid +which their lot was cast. They designated the grand and glorious +forest, broken by lakes and crossed by great rivers, intersected by a +thousand streams more beautiful than those which the Old World has given +to song and romance, as "a desert and frightful wilderness." The wildly +picturesque Indian, darting his birch canoe down the Falls of the +Amoskeag or gliding in the deer-track of the forest, was, in their view, +nothing but a "dirty tawnie," a "salvage heathen," and "devil's imp." +Many of them were well educated,--men of varied and profound erudition, +and familiar with the best specimens of Greek and Roman literature; yet +they seem to have been utterly devoid of that poetic feeling or fancy +whose subtle alchemy detects the beautiful in the familiar. Their very +hymns and spiritual songs seem to have been expressly calculated, like +"the music-grinders" of Holmes,-- + + "To pluck the eyes of sentiment, + And dock the tail of rhyme, + To crack the voice of melody, + And break the legs of time." + +They were sworn enemies of the Muses; haters of stage-play literature, +profane songs, and wanton sonnets; of everything, in brief, which +reminded them of the days of the roistering cavaliers and bedizened +beauties of the court of "the man Charles," whose head had fallen +beneath the sword of Puritan justice. Hard, harsh, unlovely, yet with +many virtues and noble points of character, they were fitted, doubtless, +for their work of pioneers in the wilderness. Sternly faithful to duty, +in peril, and suffering, and self-denial, they wrought out the noblest +of historical epics on the rough soil of New England. They lived a +truer poetry than Homer or Virgil wrote. + +The Patuckets, once a powerful native tribe, had their principal +settlements around the falls at the time of the visit of the white men +of Concord and Woburn in 1652. Gookin, the Indian historian, states +that this tribe was almost wholly destroyed by the great pestilence of +1612. In 1674 they had but two hundred and fifty males in the whole +tribe. Their chief sachem lived opposite the falls; and it was in his +wigwam that the historian, in company with John Eliot, the Indian +missionary, held a "meeting for worshippe on ye 5th of May, 1676," where +Mr. Eliot preached from "ye twenty-second of Matthew." + +The white visitants from Concord and Woburn, pleased with the appearance +of the place and the prospect it afforded for planting and fishing, +petitioned the General Court for a grant of the entire tract of land now +embraced in the limits of Lowell and Chelmsford. They made no account +whatever of the rights of the poor Patuckets; but, considering it +"a comfortable place to accommodate God's people upon," were doubtless +prepared to deal with the heathen inhabitants as Joshua the son of Nun +did with the Jebusites and Perizzites, the Hivites and the Hittites, of +old. The Indians, however, found a friend in the apostle Eliot, who +presented a petition in their behalf that the lands lying around the +Patucket and Wamesit Falls should be appropriated exclusively for their +benefit and use. The Court granted the petition of the whites, with the +exception of the tract in the angle of the two rivers on which the +Patuckets were settled. The Indian title to this tract was not finally +extinguished until 1726, when the beautiful name of Wamesit was lost in +that of Chelmsford, and the last of the Patuckets turned his back upon +the graves of his fathers and sought a new home among the strange +Indians of the North. + +But what has all this to do with the falls? When the rail-cars came +thundering through his lake country, Wordsworth attempted to exorcise +them by a sonnet; and, were I not a very decided Yankee, I might +possibly follow his example, and utter in this connection my protest +against the desecration of Patucket Falls, and battle with objurgatory +stanzas these dams and mills, as Balmawapple shot off his horse-pistol +at Stirling Castle. Rocks and trees, rapids, cascades, and other water- +works are doubtless all very well; but on the whole, considering our +seven months of frost, are not cotton shirts and woollen coats still +better? As for the spirits of the river, the Merrimac Naiads, or +whatever may be their name in Indian vocabulary, they have no good +reason for complaint; inasmuch as Nature, in marking and scooping out +the channel of their stream, seems to have had an eye to the useful +rather than the picturesque. After a few preliminary antics and +youthful vagaries up among the White Hills, the Merrimac comes down to +the seaboard, a clear, cheerful, hard-working Yankee river. Its +numerous falls and rapids are such as seem to invite the engineer's +level rather than the pencil of the tourist; and the mason who piles up +the huge brick fabrics at their feet is seldom, I suspect, troubled with +sentimental remorse or poetical misgivings. Staid and matter of fact as +the Merrimac is, it has, nevertheless, certain capricious and eccentric +tributaries; the Powow, for instance, with its eighty feet fall in a few +rods, and that wild, Indian-haunted Spicket, taking its wellnigh +perpendicular leap of thirty feet, within sight of the village meeting- +house, kicking up its Pagan heels, Sundays and all, in sheer contempt of +Puritan tithing-men. This latter waterfall is now somewhat modified by +the hand of Art, but is still, as Professor Hitchcock's "Scenographical +Geology" says of it, "an object of no little interest." My friend T., +favorably known as the translator of "Undine" and as a writer of fine +and delicate imagination, visited Spicket Falls before the sound of a +hammer or the click of a trowel had been heard beside them. His journal +of "A Day on the Merrimac" gives a pleasing and vivid description of +their original appearance as viewed through the telescope of a poetic +fancy. The readers of "Undine" will thank me for a passage or two from +this sketch:-- + +"The sound of the waters swells more deeply. Something supernatural in +their confused murmur; it makes me better understand and sympathize with +the writer of the Apocalypse when he speaks of the voice of many waters, +heaping image upon image, to impart the vigor of his conception. + +"Through yonder elm-branches I catch a few snowy glimpses of foam in the +air. See that spray and vapor rolling up the evergreen on my left The +two side precipices, one hundred feet apart and excluding objects of +inferior moment, darken and concentrate the view. The waters between +pour over the right-hand and left-hand summit, rushing down and uniting +among the craggiest and abruptest of rocks. Oh for a whole mountain- +side of that living foam! The sun impresses a faint prismatic hue. +These falls, compared with those of the Missouri, are nothing,--nothing +but the merest miniature; and yet they assist me in forming some +conception of that glorious expanse. + +"A fragment of an oak, struck off by lightning, struggles with the +current midway down; while the shattered trunk frowns above the +desolation, majestic in ruin. This is near the southern cliff. Farther +north a crag rises out of the stream, its upper surface covered with +green clover of the most vivid freshness. Not only all night, but all +day, has the dew lain upon its purity. With my eye attaining the +uppermost margin, where the waters shoot over, I look away into the +western sky, and discern there (what you least expect) a cow chewing her +cud with admirable composure, and higher up several sheep and lambs +browsing celestial buds. They stand on the eminence that forms the +background of my present view. The illusion is extremely picturesque,-- +such as Allston himself would despair of producing. 'Who can paint like +Nature'?" + +To a population like that of Lowell, the weekly respite from monotonous +in-door toil afforded by the first day of the week is particularly +grateful. Sabbath comes to the weary and overworked operative +emphatically as a day of rest. It opens upon him somewhat as it did +upon George Herbert, as he describes it in his exquisite little poem:-- + + "Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, + The bridal of the earth and sky!" + +Apart from its soothing religious associations, it brings with it the +assurance of physical comfort and freedom. It is something to be able +to doze out the morning from daybreak to breakfast in that luxurious +state between sleeping and waking in which the mind eddies slowly and +peacefully round and round instead of rushing onward,--the future a +blank, the past annihilated, the present but a dim consciousness of +pleasurable existence. Then, too, the satisfaction is by no means +inconsiderable of throwing aside the worn and soiled habiliments of +labor and appearing in neat and comfortable attire. The moral influence +of dress has not been overrated even by Carlyle's Professor in his +Sartor Resartus. William Penn says that cleanliness is akin to +godliness. A well-dressed man, all other things being equal, is not +half as likely to compromise his character as one who approximates to +shabbiness. Lawrence Sterne used to say that when he felt himself +giving way to low spirits and a sense of depression and worthlessness,-- +a sort of predisposition for all sorts of little meannesses,--he +forthwith shaved himself, brushed his wig, donned his best dress and his +gold rings, and thus put to flight the azure demons of his unfortunate +temperament. There is somehow a close affinity between moral purity and +clean linen; and the sprites of our daily temptation, who seem to find +easy access to us through a broken hat or a rent in the elbow, are +manifestly baffled by the "complete mail" of a clean and decent dress. +I recollect on one occasion hearing my mother tell our family physician +that a woman in the neighborhood, not remarkable for her tidiness, had +become a church-member. "Humph!" said the doctor, in his quick, +sarcastic way, "What of that? Don't you know that no unclean thing can +enter the kingdom of heaven?" + +"If you would see" Lowell "aright," as Walter Scott says of Melrose +Abbey, one must be here of a pleasant First day at the close of what is +called the "afternoon service." The streets are then blossoming like a +peripatetic flower-garden; as if the tulips and lilies and roses of my +friend W.'s nursery, in the vale of Nonantum, should take it into their +heads to promenade for exercise. Thousands swarm forth who during week- +days are confined to the mills. Gay colors alternate with snowy +whiteness; extremest fashion elbows the plain demureness of old- +fashioned Methodism. + +Fair pale faces catch a warmer tint from the free sunshine and fresh +air. The languid step becomes elastic with that "springy motion of the +gait" which Charles Lamb admired. Yet the general appearance of the +city is that of quietude; the youthful multitude passes on calmly, its +voices subdued to a lower and softened tone, as if fearful of breaking +the repose of the day of rest. A stranger fresh from the gayly spent +Sabbaths of the continent of Europe would be undoubtedly amazed at the +decorum and sobriety of these crowded streets. + +I am not over-precise in outward observances; but I nevertheless welcome +with joy unfeigned this first day of the week,--sweetest pause in our +hard life-march, greenest resting-place in the hot desert we are +treading. The errors of those who mistake its benignant rest for the +iron rule of the Jewish Sabbath, and who consequently hedge it about +with penalties and bow down before it in slavish terror, should not +render us less grateful for the real blessing it brings us. As a day +wrested in some degree from the god of this world, as an opportunity +afforded for thoughtful self-communing, let us receive it as a good gift +of our heavenly Parent in love rather than fear. + +In passing along Central Street this morning my attention was directed +by the friend who accompanied me to a group of laborers, with coats off +and sleeves rolled up, heaving at levers, smiting with sledge-hammers, +in full view of the street, on the margin of the canal, just above +Central Street Bridge. I rubbed my eyes, half expecting that I was the +subject of mere optical illusion; but a second look only confirmed the +first. Around me were solemn, go-to-meeting faces,--smileless and +awful; and close at hand were the delving, toiling, mud-begrimed +laborers. Nobody seemed surprised at it; nobody noticed it as a thing +out of the common course of events. And this, too, in a city where the +Sabbath proprieties are sternly insisted upon; where some twenty pulpits +deal out anathemas upon all who "desecrate the Lord's day;" where simple +notices of meetings for moral purposes even can scarcely be read; where +many count it wrong to speak on that day for the slave, who knows no +Sabbath of rest, or for the drunkard, who, imbruted by his appetites, +cannot enjoy it. Verily there are strange contradictions in our +conventional morality. Eyes which, looking across the Atlantic on the +gay Sabbath dances of French peasants are turned upward with horror, are +somehow blind to matters close at home. What would be sin past +repentance in an individual becomes quite proper in a corporation. +True, the Sabbath is holy; but the canals must be repaired. Everybody +ought to go to meeting; but the dividends must not be diminished. +Church indulgences are not, after all, confined to Rome. + +To a close observer of human nature there is nothing surprising in the +fact that a class of persons, who wink at this sacrifice of Sabhath +sanctities to the demon of gain, look at the same time with stern +disapprobation upon everything partaking of the character of amusement, +however innocent and healthful, on this day. But for myself, looking +down through the light of a golden evening upon these quietly passing +groups, I cannot find it in my heart to condemn them for seeking on this +their sole day of leisure the needful influences of social enjoyment, +unrestrained exercise, and fresh air. I cannot think any essential +service to religion or humanity would result from the conversion of +their day of rest into a Jewish Sabbath, and their consequent +confinement, like so many pining prisoners, in close and crowded +boarding-houses. Is not cheerfulness a duty, a better expression of our +gratitude for God's blessings than mere words? And even under the old +law of rituals, what answer had the Pharisees to the question, "Is it +not lawful to do good on the Sabbath day?" + +I am naturally of a sober temperament, and am, besides, a member of that +sect which Dr. More has called, mistakenly indeed, "the most melancholy +of all;" but I confess a special dislike of disfigured faces, +ostentatious displays of piety, pride aping humility. Asceticism, +moroseness, self-torture, ingratitude in view of down-showering +blessings, and painful restraint of the better feelings of our nature +may befit a Hindoo fakir, or a Mandan medicine man with buffalo skulls +strung to his lacerated muscles; but they look to me sadly out of place +in a believer of the glad evangel of the New Testament. The life of the +divine Teacher affords no countenance to this sullen and gloomy +saintliness, shutting up the heart against the sweet influences of human +sympathy and the blessed ministrations of Nature. To the horror and +clothes-rending astonishment of blind Pharisees He uttered the +significant truth, that "the Sabhath was made for man, and not man for +the Sabhath." From the close air of crowded cities, from thronged +temples and synagogues,--where priest and Levite kept up a show of +worship, drumming upon hollow ceremonials the more loudly for their +emptiness of life, as the husk rustles the more when the grain is gone, +--He led His disciples out into the country stillness, under clear +Eastern heavens, on the breezy tops of mountains, in the shade of fruit- +trees, by the side of fountains, and through yellow harvest-fields, +enforcing the lessons of His divine morality by comparisons and parables +suggested by the objects around Him or the cheerful incidents of social +humanity,--the vineyard, the field-lily, the sparrow in the air, the +sower in the seed-field, the feast and the marriage. Thus gently, thus +sweetly kind and cheerful, fell from His lips the gospel of humanity; +love the fulfilling of every law; our love for one another measuring and +manifesting our love of Him. The baptism wherewith He was baptized was +that of divine fulness in the wants of our humanity; the deep waters of +our sorrows went over Him; ineffable purity sounding for our sakes the +dark abysm of sin; yet how like a river of light runs that serene and +beautiful life through the narratives of the evangelists! He broke +bread with the poor despised publican; He sat down with the fishermen by +the Sea of Galilee; He spoke compassionate words to sin-sick Magdalen; +He sanctified by His presence the social enjoyments of home and +friendship in the family of Bethany; He laid His hand of blessing on the +sunny brows of children; He had regard even to the merely animal wants +of the multitude in the wilderness; He frowned upon none of life's +simple and natural pleasures. The burden of His Gospel was love; and in +life and word He taught evermore the divided and scattered children of +one great family that only as they drew near each other could they +approach Him who was their common centre; and that while no ostentation +of prayer nor rigid observance of ceremonies could elevate man to +heaven, the simple exercise of love, in thought and action, could bring +heaven down to man. To weary and restless spirits He taught the great +truth, that happiness consists in making others happy. No cloister for +idle genuflections and bead counting, no hair-cloth for the loins nor +scourge for the limbs, but works of love and usefulness under the +cheerful sunshine, making the waste places of humanity glad and causing +the heart's desert to blossom. Why, then, should we go searching after +the cast-off sackcloth of the Pharisee? Are we Jews, or Christians? +Must even our gratitude for "glad tidings of great joy" be desponding? +Must the hymn of our thanksgiving for countless mercies and the +unspeakable gift of His life have evermore an undertone of funeral +wailing? What! shall we go murmuring and lamenting, looking coldly on +one another, seeing no beauty, nor light, nor gladness in this good +world, wherein we have the glorious privilege of laboring in God's +harvest-field, with angels for our task companions, blessing and being +blessed? + +To him who, neglecting the revelations of immediate duty, looks +regretfully behind and fearfully before him, life may well seem a solemn +mystery, for, whichever way he turns, a wall of darkness rises before +him; but down upon the present, as through a skylight between the +shadows, falls a clear, still radiance, like beams from an eye of +blessing; and, within the circle of that divine illumination, beauty and +goodness, truth and love, purity and cheerfulness blend like primal +colors into the clear harmony of light. The author of Proverbial +Philosophy has a passage not unworthy of note in this connection, when +he speaks of the train which attends the just in heaven:-- + +"Also in the lengthening troop see I some clad in robes of triumph, +Whose fair and sunny faces I have known and loved on earth. +Welcome, ye glorified Loves, Graces, Sciences, and Muses, +That, like Sisters of Charity, tended in this world's hospital; +Welcome, for verily I knew ye could not but be children of the light; +Welcome, chiefly welcome, for I find I have friends in heaven, +And some I have scarcely looked for; as thou, light-hearted Mirth; +Thou, also, star-robed Urania; and thou with the curious glass, +That rejoicest in tracking beauty where the eye was too dull to note it. +And art thou, too, among the blessed, mild, much-injured Poetry? +That quickenest with light and beauty the leaden face of matter, +That not unheard, though silent, fillest earth's gardens with music, +And not unseen, though a spirit, dost look down upon us from the stars." + + + + +THE LIGHTING UP. + + "He spak to the spynnsters to spynnen it oute." + PIERS PLOUGHMAN. + +THIS evening, the 20th of the ninth month, is the time fixed upon for +lighting the mills for night-labor; and I have just returned from +witnessing for the first time the effect of the new illumination. + +Passing over the bridge, nearly to the Dracut shore, I had a fine view +of the long line of mills, the city beyond, and the broad sweep of the +river from the falls. The light of a tranquil and gorgeous sunset was +slowly fading from river and sky, and the shadows of the trees on the +Dracut slopes were blending in dusky indistinctness with the great +shadow of night. Suddenly gleams of light broke from the black masses +of masonry on the Lowell bank, at first feeble and scattered, flitting +from window to window, appearing and disappearing, like will-o'-wisps in +a forest or fireflies in a summer's night. Anon tier after tier of +windows became radiant, until the whole vast wall, stretching far up the +river, from basement to roof, became checkered with light reflected with +the starbeams from the still water beneath. With a little effort of +fancy, one could readily transform the huge mills, thus illuminated, +into palaces lighted up for festival occasions, and the figures of the +workers, passing to and fro before the windows, into forms of beauty and +fashion, moving in graceful dances. + +Alas! this music of the shuttle and the daylong dance to it are not +altogether of the kind which Milton speaks of when he invokes the "soft +Lydian airs" of voluptuous leisure. From this time henceforward for +half a weary year, from the bell-call of morning twilight to half-past +seven in the evening, with brief intermissions for two hasty meals, the +operatives will be confined to their tasks. The proverbial facility of +the Yankees in despatching their dinners in the least possible time +seems to have been taken advantage of and reduced to a system on the +Lowell corporations. Strange as it may seem to the uninitiated, the +working-men and women here contrive to repair to their lodgings, make +the necessary preliminary ablutions, devour their beef and pudding, and +hurry back to their looms and jacks in the brief space of half an hour. +In this way the working-day in Lowell is eked out to an average +throughout the year of twelve and a half hours. This is a serious evil, +demanding the earnest consideration of the humane and philanthropic. +Both classes--the employer and the employed--would in the end be greatly +benefited by the general adoption of the "ten-hour system," although the +one might suffer a slight diminution in daily wages and the other in +yearly profits. Yet it is difficult to see how this most desirable +change is to be effected. The stronger and healthier portion of the +operatives might themselves object to it as strenuously as the distant +stockholder who looks only to his semi-annual dividends. Health is too +often a matter of secondary consideration. Gain is the great, +all-absorbing object. Very few, comparatively, regard Lowell as their +"continuing city." They look longingly back to green valleys of +Vermont, to quiet farm-houses on the head-waters of the Connecticut and +Merrimac, and to old familiar homes along the breezy seaboard of New +England, whence they have been urged by the knowledge that here they can +earn a larger amount of money in a given time than in any other place or +employment. They come here for gain, not for pleasure; for high wages, +not for the comforts that cluster about home. Here are poor widows +toiling to educate their children; daughters hoarding their wages to +redeem mortgaged paternal homesteads or to defray the expenses of sick +and infirm parents; young betrothed girls, about to add their savings to +those of their country lovers. Others there are, of maturer age, lonely +and poor, impelled hither by a proud unwillingness to test to its extent +the charity of friends and relatives, and a strong yearning for the +"glorious privilege of being independent." All honor to them! Whatever +may have closed against them the gates of matrimony, whether their own +obduracy or the faithlessness or indifference of others, instead of +shutting themselves up in a nunnery or taxing the good nature of their +friends by perpetual demands for sympathy and support, like weak vines, +putting out their feelers in every direction for something to twine +upon, is it not better and wiser for them to go quietly at work, to show +that woman has a self-sustaining power; that she is something in and of +herself; that she, too, has a part to bear in life, and, in common with +the self-elected "lords of creation," has a direct relation to absolute +being? To such the factory presents the opportunity of taking the first +and essential step of securing, within a reasonable space of time, a +comfortable competency. + +There are undoubtedly many evils connected with the working of these +mills; yet they are partly compensated by the fact that here, more than +in any other mechanical employment, the labor of woman is placed +essentially upon an equality with that of man. Here, at least, one of +the many social disabilities under which woman as a distinct individual, +unconnected with the other sex, has labored in all time is removed; the +work of her hands is adequately rewarded; and she goes to her daily task +with the consciousness that she is not "spending her strength for +naught." + +'The Lowell Offering', which has been for the last four years published +monthly in this city, consisting entirely of articles written by females +employed in the mills, has attracted much attention and obtained a wide +circulation. This may be in part owing to the novel circumstances of +its publication; but it is something more and better than a mere +novelty. In its volumes may be found sprightly delineations of home +scenes and characters, highly wrought imaginative pieces, tales of +genuine pathos and humor, and pleasing fairy stories and fables. +'The Offering' originated in a reading society of the mill girls, which, +under the name of the 'Improvement Circle' was convened once in a month. +At its meetings, pieces written by its members and dropped secretly into +a sort of "lion's mouth," provided for the purpose of insuring the +authors from detection, were read for the amusement and criticism of +the company. This circle is still in existence; and I owe to my +introduction to it some of the most pleasant hours I have passed in +Lowell. + +The manner in which the 'Offering' has been generally noticed in this +country has not, to my thinking, been altogether in accordance with good +taste or self-respect. It is hardly excusable for men, who, whatever +may be their present position, have, in common with all of us, brothers, +sisters, or other relations busy in workshop and dairy, and who have +scarcely washed from their own professional hands the soil of labor, to +make very marked demonstrations of astonishment at the appearance of a +magazine whose papers are written by factory girls. As if the +compatibility of mental cultivation with bodily labor and the equality +and brotherhood of the human family were still open questions, depending +for their decision very much on the production of positive proof that +essays may be written and carpets woven by the same set of fingers! + +The truth is, our democracy lacks calmness and solidity, the repose and +self-reliance which come of long habitude and settled conviction. We +have not yet learned to wear its simple truths with the graceful ease +and quiet air of unsolicitous assurance with which the titled European +does his social fictions. As a people, we do not feel and live out our +great Declaration. We lack faith in man,--confidence in simple +humanity, apart from its environments. + + "The age shows, to my thinking, more infidels to Adam, + Than directly, by profession, simple infidels to God." + + Elizabeth B. Browning. + + + + +TAKING COMFORT. + +For the last few days the fine weather has lured me away from books and +papers and the close air of dwellings into the open fields, and under +the soft, warm sunshine, and the softer light of a full moon. The +loveliest season of the whole year--that transient but delightful +interval between the storms of the "wild equinox, with all their wet," +and the dark, short, dismal days which precede the rigor of winter--is +now with us. The sun rises through a soft and hazy atmosphere; the +light mist-clouds melt gradually away before him; and his noontide light +rests warm and clear on still woods, tranquil waters, and grasses green +with the late autumnal rains. The rough-wooded slopes of Dracut, +overlooking the falls of the river; Fort Hill, across the Concord, where +the red man made his last stand, and where may still be seen the trench +which he dug around his rude fortress; the beautiful woodlands on the +Lowell and Tewksbury shores of the Concord; the cemetery; the Patucket +Falls,--all within the reach of a moderate walk,--offer at this season +their latest and loveliest attractions. + +One fine morning, not long ago, I strolled down the Merrimac, on the +Tewksbury shore. I know of no walk in the vicinity of Lowell so +inviting as that along the margin of the river for nearly a mile from +the village of Belvidere. The path winds, green and flower-skirted, +among beeches and oaks, through whose boughs you catch glimpses of +waters sparkling and dashing below. Rocks, huge and picturesque, +jut out into the stream, affording beautiful views of the river and +the distant city. + +Half fatigued with my walk, I threw myself down upon the rocky slope +of the bank, where the panorama of earth, sky, and water lay clear and +distinct about me. Far above, silent and dim as a picture, was the +city, with its huge mill-masonry, confused chimney-tops, and church- +spires; nearer rose the height of Belvidere, with its deserted burial- +place and neglected gravestones sharply defined on its bleak, bare +summit against the sky; before me the river went dashing down its rugged +channel, sending up its everlasting murmur; above me the birch-tree hung +its tassels; and the last wild flowers of autumn profusely fringed the +rocky rim of the water. Right opposite, the Dracut woods stretched +upwards from the shore, beautiful with the hues of frost, glowing with +tints richer and deeper than those which Claude or Poussin mingled, as +if the rainbows of a summer shower had fallen among them. At a little +distance to the right a group of cattle stood mid-leg deep in the river; +and a troop of children, bright-eyed and mirthful, were casting pebbles +at them from a projecting shelf of rock. Over all a warm but softened +sunshine melted down from a slumberous autumnal sky. + +My revery was disagreeably broken. A low, grunting sound, half bestial, +half human, attracted my attention. I was not alone. Close beside me, +half hidden by a tuft of bushes, lay a human being, stretched out at +full length, with his face literally rooted into the gravel. A little +boy, five or six years of age, clean and healthful, with his fair brown +locks and blue eyes, stood on the bank above, gazing down upon him with +an expression of childhood's simple and unaffected pity. + +"What ails you?" asked the boy at length. "What makes you lie there?" + +The prostrate groveller struggled half-way up, exhibiting the bloated +and filthy countenance of a drunkard. He made two or three efforts to +get upon his feet, lost his balance, and tumbled forward upon his face. + +"What are you doing there?" inquired the boy. + +"I'm taking comfort," he muttered, with his mouth in the dirt. + +Taking his comfort! There he lay,--squalid and loathsome under the +bright heaven,--an imbruted man. The holy harmonies of Nature, the +sounds of gushing waters, the rustle of the leaves above him, the wild +flowers, the frost-bloom of the woods,--what were they to him? +Insensible, deaf, and blind, in the stupor of a living death, he lay +there, literally realizing that most bitterly significant Eastern +malediction, "May you eat dirt!" + +In contrasting the exceeding beauty and harmony of inanimate Nature with +the human degradation and deformity before me, I felt, as I confess I +had never done before, the truth of a remark of a rare thinker, that +"Nature is loved as the city of God, although, or rather because, it has +no citizen. The beauty of Nature must ever be universal and mocking +until the landscape has human figures as good as itself. Man is fallen; +Nature is erect."--(Emerson.) As I turned once more to the calm blue +sky, the hazy autumnal hills, and the slumberous water, dream-tinted by +the foliage of its shores, it seemed as if a shadow of shame and sorrow +fell over the pleasant picture; and even the west wind which stirred the +tree-tops above me had a mournful murmur, as if Nature felt the +desecration of her sanctities and the discord of sin and folly which +marred her sweet harmonies. + +God bless the temperance movement! And He will bless it; for it is His +work. It is one of the great miracles of our times. Not Father Mathew +in Ireland, nor Hawkins and his little band in Baltimore, but He whose +care is over all the works of His hand, and who in His divine love and +compassion "turneth the hearts of men as the rivers of waters are +turned," hath done it. To Him be all the glory. + + + + +CHARMS AND FAIRY FAITH + + "Up the airy mountain, + Down the rushy glen, + We dare n't go a-hunting + For fear of little men. + Wee folk, good folk, + Trooping all together; + Green jacket, red cap, + Gray cock's feather." + ALLINGHAM. + +IT was from a profound knowledge of human nature that Lord Bacon, in +discoursing upon truth, remarked that a mixture of a lie doth ever add +pleasure. "Doth any man doubt," he asks, "that if there were taken out +of men's minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, and +imaginations, but it would leave the minds of a number of men poor, +shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to +themselves?" This admitted tendency of our nature, this love of the +pleasing intoxication of unveracity, exaggeration, and imagination, may +perhaps account for the high relish which children and nations yet in +the childhood of civilization find in fabulous legends and tales of +wonder. The Arab at the present day listens with eager interest to the +same tales of genii and afrits, sorcerers and enchanted princesses, +which delighted his ancestors in the times of Haroun al Raschid. The +gentle, church-going Icelander of our time beguiles the long night of +his winter with the very sagas and runes which thrilled with not +unpleasing horror the hearts of the old Norse sea-robbers. What child, +although Anglo-Saxon born, escapes a temporary sojourn in fairy-land? +Who of us does not remember the intense satisfaction of throwing aside +primer and spelling-book for stolen ethnographical studies of dwarfs, +and giants? Even in our own country and time old superstitions and +credulities still cling to life with feline tenacity. Here and there, +oftenest in our fixed, valley-sheltered, inland villages,--slumberous +Rip Van Winkles, unprogressive and seldom visited,--may be found the +same old beliefs in omens, warnings, witchcraft, and supernatural charms +which our ancestors brought with them two centuries ago from Europe. + +The practice of charms, or what is popularly called "trying projects," +is still, to some extent, continued in New England. The inimitable +description which Burns gives of similar practices in his Halloween may +not in all respects apply to these domestic conjurations; but the +following needs only the substitution of apple-seeds for nuts:-- + + "The auld gude wife's wheel-hoordet nits + Are round an' round divided; + An' mony lads and lassies' fates + Are there that night decided. + Some kindle couthie side by side + An' burn thegither trimly; + Some start awa wi' saucy pride + And jump out owre the chimlie." + +One of the most common of these "projects" is as follows: A young woman +goes down into the cellar, or into a dark room, with a mirror in her +hand, and looking in it, sees the face of her future husband peering at +her through the darkness,--the mirror being, for the time, as potent as +the famous Cambuscan glass of which Chaucer discourses. A neighbor of +mine, in speaking of this conjuration, adduces a case in point. One of +her schoolmates made the experiment and saw the face of a strange man in +the glass; and many years afterwards she saw the very man pass her +father's door. He proved to be an English emigrant just landed, and in +due time became her husband. Burns alludes to something like the spell +above described:-- + + "Wee Jenny to her grannie says, + 'will ye go wi' me, grannie, + To eat an apple at the glass + I got from Uncle Johnnie?' + She fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt, + In wrath she was so vaporin', + She noticed na an' azle brunt + Her bran new worset apron. + + "Ye little skelpan-limmer's face, + How dare ye try sic sportin', + An' seek the foul thief ony place + For him to try your fortune? + Nae doubt but ye may get a sight; + Great cause ye hae to fear it; + For mony a one has gotten a fright, + An' lived and died delecrit." + +It is not to be denied, and for truth's sake not to be regretted, that +this amusing juvenile glammary has seen its best days in New England. +The schoolmaster has been abroad to some purpose. Not without results +have our lyceum lecturers and travels of Peter Parley brought everything +in heaven above and in the earth below to the level of childhood's +capacities. In our cities and large towns children nowadays pass +through the opening acts of life's marvellous drama with as little +manifestation of wonder and surprise as the Indian does through the +streets of a civilized city which he has entered for the first time. +Yet Nature, sooner or later, vindicates her mysteries; voices from the +unseen penetrate the din of civilization. The child philosopher and +materialist often becomes the visionary of riper years, running into +illuminism, magnetism, and transcendentalism, with its inspired priests +and priestesses, its revelations and oracular responses. + +But in many a green valley of rural New England there are children yet; +boys and girls are still to be found not quite overtaken by the march of +mind. There, too, are huskings, and apple-bees, and quilting parties, +and huge old-fashioned fireplaces piled with crackling walnut, flinging +its rosy light over happy countenances of youth and scarcely less happy +age. If it be true that, according to Cornelius Agrippa, "a wood fire +doth drive away dark spirits," it is, nevertheless, also true that +around it the simple superstitions of our ancestors still love to +linger; and there the half-sportful, half-serious charms of which I have +spoken are oftenest resorted to. It would be altogether out of place to +think of them by our black, unsightly stoves, or in the dull and dark +monotony of our furnace-heated rooms. Within the circle of the light of +the open fire safely might the young conjurers question destiny; for +none but kindly and gentle messengers from wonderland could venture +among them. And who of us, looking back to those long autumnal evenings +of childhood when the glow of the kitchen-fire rested on the beloved +faces of home, does not feel that there is truth and beauty in what the +quaint old author just quoted affirms? "As the spirits of darkness grow +stronger in the dark, so good spirits, which are angels of light, are +multiplied and strengthened, not only by the divine light of the sun and +stars, but also by the light of our common wood-fires." Even Lord +Bacon, in condemning the superstitious beliefs of his day, admits that +they might serve for winter talk around the fireside. + +Fairy faith is, we may safely say, now dead everywhere,--buried, +indeed,--for the mad painter Blake saw the funeral of the last of the +little people, and an irreverent English bishop has sung their requiem. +It never had much hold upon the Yankee mind, our superstitions being +mostly of a sterner and less poetical kind. The Irish Presbyterians who +settled in New Hampshire about the year 1720 brought indeed with them, +among other strange matters, potatoes and fairies; but while the former +took root and flourished among us, the latter died out, after lingering +a few years in a very melancholy and disconsolate way, looking +regretfully back to their green turf dances, moonlight revels, and +cheerful nestling around the shealing fires of Ireland. The last that +has been heard of them was some forty or fifty years ago in a tavern +house in S-------, New Hampshire. The landlord was a spiteful little +man, whose sour, pinched look was a standing libel upon the state of his +larder. He made his house so uncomfortable by his moroseness that +travellers even at nightfall pushed by his door and drove to the next +town. Teamsters and drovers, who in those days were apt to be very +thirsty, learned, even before temperance societies were thought of, to +practice total abstinence on that road, and cracked their whips and +goaded on their teams in full view of a most tempting array of bottles +and glasses, from behind which the surly little landlord glared out upon +them with a look which seemed expressive of all sorts of evil wishes, +broken legs, overturned carriages, spavined horses, sprained oxen, +unsavory poultry, damaged butter, and bad markets. And if, as a matter +of necessity, to "keep the cold out of his stomach," occasionally a +wayfarer stopped his team and ventured to call for "somethin' warmin'," +the testy publican stirred up the beverage in such a spiteful way, that, +on receiving it foaming from his hand, the poor customer was half afraid +to open his mouth, lest the red-hot flip iron should be plunged down his +gullet. + +As a matter of course, poverty came upon the house and its tenants like +an armed man. Loose clapboards rattled in the wind; rags fluttered from +the broken windows; within doors were tattered children and scanty fare. +The landlord's wife was a stout, buxom woman, of Irish lineage, and, +what with scolding her husband and liberally patronizing his bar in his +absence, managed to keep, as she said, her "own heart whole," although +the same could scarcely be said of her children's trousers and her own +frock of homespun. She confidently predicted that "a betther day was +coming," being, in fact, the only thing hopeful about the premises. And +it did come, sure enough. Not only all the regular travellers on the +road made a point of stopping at the tavern, but guests from all the +adjacent towns filled its long-deserted rooms,--the secret of which was, +that it had somehow got abroad that a company of fairies had taken up +their abode in the hostelry and daily held conversation with each other +in the capacious parlor. I have heard those who at the time visited the +tavern say that it was literally thronged for several weeks. Small, +squeaking voices spoke in a sort of Yankee-Irish dialect, in the haunted +room, to the astonishment and admiration of hundreds. The inn, of +course, was blessed by this fairy visitation; the clapboards ceased +their racket, clear panes took the place of rags in the sashes, and the +little till under the bar grew daily heavy with coin. The magical +influence extended even farther; for it was observable that the landlord +wore a good-natured face, and that the landlady's visits to the gin- +bottle were less and less frequent. But the thing could not, in the +nature of the case, continue long. It was too late in the day and on +the wrong side of the water. As the novelty wore off, people began to +doubt and reason about it. Had the place been traversed by a ghost or +disturbed by a witch they could have acquiesced in it very quietly; but +this outlandish belief in fairies was altogether an overtask for Yankee +credulity. As might have been expected, the little strangers, unable to +breathe in an atmosphere of doubt and suspicion, soon took their leave, +shaking off the dust of their elfin feet as a testimony against an +unbelieving generation. It was, indeed, said that certain rude fellows +from the Bay State pulled away a board from the ceiling and disclosed to +view the fairies in the shape of the landlady's three slatternly +daughters. But the reader who has any degree of that charity which +thinks no evil will rather credit the statement of the fairies +themselves, as reported by the mistress of the house, "that they were +tired of the new country, and had no pace of their lives among the +Yankees, and were going back to Ould Ireland." + +It is a curious fact that the Indians had some notion of a race of +beings corresponding in many respects to the English fairies. +Schoolcraft describes them as small creatures in human shape, inhabiting +rocks, crags, and romantic dells, and delighting especially in points of +land jutting into lakes and rivers and which were covered with +pinetrees. They were called Puckweedjinees,--little vanishers. + +In a poetical point of view it is to be regretted that our ancestors did +not think it worth their while to hand down to us more of the simple and +beautiful traditions and beliefs of the "heathen round about" them. +Some hints of them we glean from the writings of the missionary Mayhew +and the curious little book of Roger Williams. Especially would one +like to know more of that domestic demon, Wetuomanit, who presided over +household affairs, assisted the young squaw in her first essay at +wigwam-keeping, gave timely note of danger, and kept evil spirits at a +distance,--a kind of new-world brownie, gentle and useful. + +Very suggestive, too, is the story of Pumoolah,--a mighty spirit, whose +home is on the great Katahdin Mountain, sitting there with his earthly +bride (a beautiful daughter of the Penobscots transformed into an +immortal by her love), in serenest sunshine, above the storm which +crouches and growls at his feet. None but the perfectly pure and good +can reach his abode. Many have from time to time attempted it in vain; +some, after almost reaching the summit, have been driven back by +thunderbolts or sleety whirlwinds. + +Not far from my place of residence are the ruins of a mill, in a narrow +ravine fringed with trees. Some forty years ago the mill was supposed +to be haunted; and horse-shoes, in consequence, were nailed over its +doors. One worthy man, whose business lay beyond the mill, was afraid +to pass it alone; and his wife, who was less fearful of supernatural +annoyance, used to accompany him. The little old white-coated miller, +who there ground corn and wheat for his neighbors, whenever he made a +particularly early visit to his mill, used to hear it in full +operation,--the water-wheel dashing bravely, and the old rickety +building clattering to the jar of the stones. Yet the moment his hand +touched the latch or his foot the threshold all was hushed save the +melancholy drip of water from the dam or the low gurgle of the small +stream eddying amidst willow roots and mossy stones in the ravine below. + +This haunted mill has always reminded me of that most beautiful of +Scottish ballads, the Song of the Elfin Miller, in which fairies are +represented as grinding the poor man's grist without toil:-- + + "Full merrily rings the mill-stone round; + Full merrily rings the wheel; + Full merrily gushes out the grist; + Come, taste my fragrant meal. + The miller he's a warldly man, + And maun hae double fee; + So draw the sluice in the churl's dam + And let the stream gae free!" + +Brainerd, who truly deserves the name of an American poet, has left +behind him a ballad on the Indian legend of the black fox which haunted +Salmon River, a tributary of the Connecticut. Its wild and picturesque +beauty causes us to regret that more of the still lingering traditions +of the red men have not been made the themes of his verse:-- + + + + +THE BLACK FOX. + + "How cold, how beautiful, how bright + The cloudless heaven above us shines! + But 't is a howling winter's night; + 'T would freeze the very forest pines. + + "The winds are up while mortals sleep; + The stars look forth while eyes are shut; + The bolted snow lies drifted deep + Around our poor and lonely hut. + + "With silent step and listening ear, + With bow and arrow, dog and gun, + We'll mark his track,--his prowl we hear: + Now is our time! Come on! come on! + + "O'er many a fence, through many a wood, + Following the dog's bewildered scent, + In anxious haste and earnest mood, + The white man and the Indian went. + + "The gun is cocked; the bow is bent; + The dog stands with uplifted paw; + And ball and arrow both are sent, + Aimed at the prowler's very jaw. + + "The ball to kill that fox is run + Not in a mould by mortals made; + The arrow which that fox should shun + Was never shaped from earthly reed. + + "The Indian Druids of the wood + Know where the fatal arrows grow; + They spring not by the summer flood; + They pierce not through the winter's snow. + + "Why cowers the dog, whose snuffing nose + Was never once deceived till now? + And why amidst the chilling snows + Does either hunter wipe his brow? + + "For once they see his fearful den; + 'T is a dark cloud that slowly moves + By night around the homes of men, + By day along the stream it loves. + + "Again the dog is on the track, + The hunters chase o'er dale and hill; + They may not, though they would, look back; + They must go forward, forward still. + + "Onward they go, and never turn, + Amidst a night which knows no day; + For nevermore shall morning sun + Light them upon their endless way. + + "The hut is desolate; and there + The famished dog alone returns; + On the cold steps he makes his lair; + By the shut door he lays his bones. + + "Now the tired sportsman leans his gun + Against the ruins on its site, + And ponders on the hunting done + By the lost wanderers of the night. + + "And there the little country girls + Will stop to whisper, listen, and look, + And tell, while dressing their sunny curls, + Of the Black Fox of Salmon Brook." + +The same writer has happily versified a pleasant superstition of the +valley of the Connecticut. It is supposed that shad are led from the +Gulf of Mexico to the Connecticut by a kind of Yankee bogle in the shape +of a bird. + + + + +THE SHAD SPIRIT. + + "Now drop the bolt, and securely nail + The horse-shoe over the door; + 'T is a wise precaution; and, if it should fail, + It never failed before. + + "Know ye the shepherd that gathers his flock + Where the gales of the equinox blow + From each unknown reef and sunken rock + In the Gulf of Mexico,-- + + "While the monsoons growl, and the trade-winds bark, + And the watch-dogs of the surge + Pursue through the wild waves the ravenous shark + That prowls around their charge? + + "To fair Connecticut's northernmost source, + O'er sand-bars, rapids, and falls, + The Shad Spirit holds his onward course + With the flocks which his whistle calls. + + "Oh, how shall he know where he went before? + Will he wander around forever? + The last year's shad heads shall shine on the shore, + To light him up the river. + + "And well can he tell the very time + To undertake his task + When the pork-barrel's low he sits on the chine + And drums on the empty cask. + + "The wind is light, and the wave is white + With the fleece of the flock that's near; + Like the breath of the breeze he comes over the seas + And faithfully leads them here. + + "And now he 's passed the bolted door + Where the rusted horse-shoe clings; + So carry the nets to the nearest shore, + And take what the Shad Spirit brings." + +The comparatively innocent nature and simple poetic beauty of this class +of superstitions have doubtless often induced the moralist to hesitate +in exposing their absurdity, and, like Burns in view of his national +thistle, to: + + "Turn the weeding hook aside + And spare the symbol dear." + +But the age has fairly outgrown them, and they are falling away by a +natural process of exfoliation. The wonderland of childhood must +henceforth be sought within the domains of truth. The strange facts of +natural history, and the sweet mysteries of flowers and forests, and +hills and waters, will profitably take the place of the fairy lore of +the past, and poetry and romance still hold their accustomed seats in +the circle of home, without bringing with them the evil spirits of +credulity and untruth. Truth should be the first lesson of the child +and the last aspiration of manhood; for it has been well said that the +inquiry of truth, which is the lovemaking of it, the knowledge of truth, +which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the +enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. + + + + +MAGICIANS AND WITCH FOLK. + +FASCINATION, saith Henry Cornelius Agrippa, in the fiftieth chapter of +his first book on Occult Philosophy, "is a binding which comes of the +spirit of the witch through the eyes of him that is bewitched, entering +to his heart; for the eye being opened and intent upon any one, with a +strong imagination doth dart its beams, which are the vehiculum of the +spirit, into the eyes of him that is opposite to her; which tender +spirit strikes his eyes, stirs up and wounds his heart, and infects his +spirit. Whence Apuleius saith, 'Thy eyes, sliding down through my eyes +into my inmost heart, stirreth up a most vehement burning.' And when +eyes are reciprocally intent upon each other, and when rays are joined +to rays, and lights to lights, then the spirit of the one is joined to +that of the other; so are strong ligations made and vehement loves +inflamed." Taking this definition of witchcraft, we sadly fear it is +still practised to a very great extent among us. The best we can say of +it is, that the business seems latterly to have fallen into younger +hands; its victims do not appear to regard themselves as especial +objects of compassion; and neither church nor state seems inclined to +interfere with it. + +As might be expected in a shrewd community like ours, attempts are not +unfrequently made to speculate in the supernatural,--to "make gain of +sooth-saying." In the autumn of last year a "wise woman" dreamed, or +somnambulized, that a large sum of money, in gold and silver coin, lay +buried in the centre of the great swamp in Poplin, New Hampshire; +whereupon an immediate search was made for the precious metal. Under +the bleak sky of November, in biting frost and sleet rain, some twenty +or more grown men, graduates of our common schools, and liable, every +mother's son of them, to be made deacons, squires, and general court +members, and such other drill officers as may be requisite in the march +of mind, might be seen delving in grim earnest, breaking the frozen +earth, uprooting swamp-maples and hemlocks, and waking, with sledge and +crowbar, unwonted echoes in a solitude which had heretofore only +answered to the woodman's axe or the scream of the wild fowl. The snows +of December put an end to their labors; but the yawning excavation still +remains, a silent but somewhat expressive commentary upon the age of +progress. + +Still later, in one of our Atlantic cities, an attempt was made, +partially at least, successful, to form a company for the purpose of +digging for money in one of the desolate sand-keys of the West Indies. +It appears that some mesmerized "subject," in the course of one of those +somnambulic voyages of discovery in which the traveller, like Satan in +chaos,-- + + "O'er bog, o'er steep, through straight, rough, dense, or rare, + With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, + And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies,"-- + +while peering curiously into the earth's mysteries, chanced to have his +eyes gladdened by the sight of a huge chest packed with Spanish coins, +the spoil, doubtless, of some rich-freighted argosy, or Carthagena +galleon, in the rare days of Queen Elizabeth's Christian buccaneers. + +During the last quarter of a century, a colored woman in one of the +villages on the southern border of New Hampshire has been consulted by +hundreds of anxious inquirers into the future. Long experience in her +profession has given her something of that ready estimate of character, +that quick and keen appreciation of the capacity, habits, and wishes of +her visitors, which so remarkably distinguished the late famous Madame +Le Normand, of Paris; and if that old squalid sorceress, in her cramped +Parisian attic, redolent of garlic and bestrewn with the greasy +implements of sorry housewifery, was, as has been affirmed, consulted by +such personages as the fair Josephine Beauharnois, and the "man of +destiny," Napoleon himself, is it strange that the desire to lift the +veil of the great mystery before us should overcome in some degree our +peculiar and most republican prejudice against color, and reconcile us +to the disagreeable necessity of looking at futurity through a black +medium? + +Some forty years ago, on the banks of the pleasant little creek +separating Berwick, in Maine, from Somersworth, in New Hampshire, within +sight of my mother's home, dwelt a plain, sedate member of the society +of Friends, named Bantum. He passed throughout a circle of several +miles as a conjurer and skilful adept in the art of magic. To him +resorted farmers who had lost their cattle, matrons whose household +gear, silver spoons, and table-linen had been stolen, or young maidens +whose lovers were absent; and the quiet, meek-spirited old man received +them all kindly, put on his huge iron-rimmed spectacles, opened his +"conjuring book," which my mother describes as a large clasped volume in +strange language and black-letter type, and after due reflection and +consideration gave the required answers without money and without price. +The curious old volume is still in the possession of the conjurer's +family. Apparently inconsistent as was this practice of the black art +with the simplicity and truthfulness of his religious profession, I have +not been able to learn that he was ever subjected to censure on account +of it. It may be that our modern conjurer defended himself on grounds +similar to those assumed by the celebrated knight of Nettesheim, in the +preface to his first Book of Magic: "Some," says he, "may crie oute that +I teach forbidden arts, sow the seed of heresies, offend pious ears, and +scandalize excellent wits; that I am a sorcerer, superstitious and +devilish, who indeed am a magician. To whom I answer, that a magician +doth not among learned men signifie a sorcerer or one that is +superstitious or devilish, but a wise man, a priest, a prophet, and that +the sibyls prophesied most clearly of Christ; that magicians, as wise +men, by the wonderful secrets of the world, knew Christ to be born, and +came to worship him, first of all; and that the name of magicke is +received by philosophers, commended by divines, and not unacceptable to +the Gospel." + +The study of astrology and occult philosophy, to which many of the +finest minds of the Middle Ages devoted themselves without molestation +from the Church, was never practised with impunity after the +Reformation. The Puritans and Presbyterians, taking the Bible for their +rule, "suffered not a witch to live;" and, not content with burning the +books of those who "used curious arts" after the manner of the +Ephesians, they sacrificed the students themselves on the same pile. +Hence we hear little of learned and scientific wizards in New England. +One remarkable character of this kind seems, however, to have escaped +the vigilance of our modern Doctors of the Mosaic Law. Dr. Robert Child +came to this country about the year 1644, and took up his residence in +the Massachusetts colony. He was a man of wealth, and owned plantations +at Nashaway, now Lancaster, and at Saco, in Maine. He was skilful in +mineralogy and metallurgy, and seems to have spent a good deal of money +in searching for mines. He is well known as the author of the first +decided movement for liberty of conscience in Massachusetts, his name +standing at the head of the famous petition of 1646 for a modification +of the laws in respect to religious worship, and complaining in strong +terms of the disfranchisement of persons not members of the Church. A +tremendous excitement was produced by this remonstrance; clergy and +magistrates joined in denouncing it; Dr. Child and his associates were +arrested, tried for contempt of government, and heavily fined. The +Court, in passing sentence, assured the Doctor that his crime was only +equalled by that of Korah and his troop, who rebelled against Moses and +Aaron. He resolved to appeal to the Parliament of England, and made +arrangements for his departure, but was arrested, and ordered to be kept +a prisoner in his own house until the vessel in which he was to sail had +left Boston. He was afterwards imprisoned for a considerable length of +time, and on his release found means to return to England. The Doctor's +trunks were searched by the Puritan authorities while he was in prison; +but it does not appear that they detected the occult studies to which +lie was addicted, to which lucky circumstance it is doubtless owing that +the first champion of religious liberty in the New World was not hung +for a wizard. + +Dr. Child was a graduate of the renowned University of Padua, and had +travelled extensively in the Old World. Probably, like Michael Scott, +he had: + + "Learned the art of glammarye + In Padua, beyond the sea;" + +for I find in the dedication of an English translation of a Continental +work on astrology and magic, printed in 1651 "at the sign of the Three +Bibles," that his "sublime hermeticall and theomagicall lore" is +compared to that of Hermes and Agrippa. He is complimented as a master +of the mysteries of Rome and Germany, and as one who had pursued his +investigations among the philosophers of the Old World and the Indians +of the New, "leaving no stone unturned, the turning whereof might +conduce to the discovery of what is occult." + +There was still another member of the Friends' society in Vermont, of +the name of Austin, who, in answer, as he supposed, to prayer and a +long-cherished desire to benefit his afflicted fellow-creatures, +received, as he believed, a special gift of healing. For several years +applicants from nearly all parts of New England visited him with the +story of their sufferings and praying for a relief, which, it is +averred, was in many instances really obtained. Letters from the sick +who were unable to visit him, describing their diseases, were sent him; +and many are yet living who believe that they were restored miraculously +at the precise period of time when Austin was engaged in reading their +letters. One of my uncles was commissioned to convey to him a large +number of letters from sick persons in his neighborhood. He found the +old man sitting in his plain parlor in the simplest garb of his sect,-- +grave, thoughtful, venerable,--a drab-coated Prince Hohenlohe. He +received the letters in silence, read them slowly, casting them one +after another upon a large pile of similar epistles in a corner of the +apartment. + +Half a century ago nearly every neighborhood in New England was favored +with one or more reputed dealers in magic. Twenty years later there +were two poor old sisters who used to frighten school urchins and +"children of a larger growth" as they rode down from New Hampshire on +their gaunt skeleton horses, strung over with baskets for the +Newburyport market. They were aware of the popular notion concerning +them, and not unfrequently took advantage of it to levy a sort of black +mail upon their credulous neighbors. An attendant at the funeral of one +of these sisters, who when living was about as unsubstantial as Ossian's +ghost, through which the stars were visible, told me that her coffin was +so heavy that four stout men could barely lift it. + +One, of my earliest recollections is that of an old woman, residing +about two miles from the place of my nativity, who for many years had +borne the unenviable reputation of a witch. She certainly had the look +of one,--a combination of form, voice, and features which would have +made the fortune of an English witch finder in the days of Matthew Paris +or the Sir John Podgers of Dickens, and insured her speedy conviction in +King James's High Court of Justiciary. She was accused of divers ill- +doings,--such as preventing the cream in her neighbor's churn from +becoming butter, and snuffing out candles at huskings and quilting- +parties. + + "She roamed the country far and near, + Bewitched the children of the peasants, + Dried up the cows, and lamed the deer, + And sucked the eggs, and killed the pheasants." + +The poor old woman was at length so sadly annoyed by her unfortunate +reputation that she took the trouble to go before a justice of the +peace, and made solemn oath that she was a Christian woman, and no +witch. + +Not many years since a sad-visaged, middle-aged man might be seen in the +streets of one of our seaboard towns at times suddenly arrested in the +midst of a brisk walk and fixed motionless for some minutes in the busy +thoroughfare. No effort could induce him to stir until, in his opinion, +the spell was removed and his invisible tormentor suffered him to +proceed. He explained his singular detention as the act of a whole +family of witches whom he had unfortunately offended during a visit down +East. It was rumored that the offence consisted in breaking off a +matrimonial engagement with the youngest member of the family,--a +sorceress, perhaps, in more than one sense of the word, like that +"winsome wench and walie" in Tam O'Shanter's witch-dance at Kirk +Alloway. His only hope was that he should outlive his persecutors; and +it is said that at the very hour in which the event took place he +exultingly assured his friends that the spell was forever broken, and +that the last of the family of his tormentors was no more. + +When a boy, I occasionally met, at the house of a relative in an +adjoining town, a stout, red-nosed old farmer of the neighborhood. +A fine tableau he made of a winter's evening, in the red light of a +birch-log fire, as he sat for hours watching its progress, with sleepy, +half-shut eyes, changing his position only to reach the cider-mug on the +shelf near him. Although he seldom opened his lips save to assent to +some remark of his host or to answer a direct question, yet at times, +when the cider-mug got the better of his taciturnity, he would amuse us +with interesting details of his early experiences in "the Ohio country." + +There was, however, one chapter in these experiences which he usually +held in reserve, and with which "the stranger intermeddled not." He was +not willing to run the risk of hearing that which to him was a frightful +reality turned into ridicule by scoffers and unbelievers. The substance +of it, as I received it from one of his neighbors, forms as clever a +tale of witchcraft as modern times have produced. + +It seems that when quite a young man he left the homestead, and, +strolling westward, worked his way from place to place until he found +himself in one of the old French settlements on the Ohio River. Here he +procured employment on the farm of a widow; and being a smart, active +fellow, and proving highly serviceable in his department, he rapidly +gained favor in the eyes of his employer. Ere long, contrary to the +advice of the neighbors, and in spite of somewhat discouraging hints +touching certain matrimonial infelicities experienced by the late +husband, he resolutely stepped into the dead man's shoes: the mistress +became the wife, and the servant was legally promoted to the head of the +household.-- + +For a time matters went on cosily and comfortably enough. He was now +lord of the soil; and, as he laid in his crops of corn and potatoes, +salted down his pork, and piled up his wood for winter's use, he +naturally enough congratulated himself upon his good fortune and laughed +at the sinister forebodings of his neighbors. But with the long winter +months came a change over his "love's young dream." An evil and +mysterious influence seemed to be at work in his affairs. Whatever he +did after consulting his wife or at her suggestion resulted favorably +enough; but all his own schemes and projects were unaccountably marred +and defeated. If he bought a horse, it was sure to prove spavined or +wind-broken. His cows either refused to give down their milk, or, +giving it, perversely kicked it over. A fine sow which he had bargained +for repaid his partiality by devouring, like Saturn, her own children. +By degrees a dark thought forced its way into his mind. Comparing his +repeated mischances with the ante-nuptial warnings of his neighbors, he +at last came to the melancholy conclusion that his wife was a witch. +The victim in Motherwell's ballad of the Demon Lady, or the poor fellow +in the Arabian tale who discovered that he had married a ghoul in the +guise of a young and blooming princess, was scarcely in a more sorrowful +predicament. He grew nervous and fretful. Old dismal nursery stories +and all the witch lore of boyhood came back to his memory; and he crept +to his bed like a criminal to the gallows, half afraid to fall asleep +lest his mysterious companion should take a fancy to transform him into +a horse, get him shod at the smithy, and ride him to a witch-meeting. +And, as if to make the matter worse, his wife's affection seemed to +increase just in proportion as his troubles thickened upon him. She +aggravated him with all manner of caresses and endearments. This was +the drop too much. The poor husband recoiled from her as from a waking +nightmare. His thoughts turned to New England; he longed to see once +more the old homestead, with its tall well-sweep and butternut-trees by +the roadside; and he sighed amidst the rich bottom-lands of his new home +for his father's rocky pasture, with its crop of stinted mulleins. So +one cold November day, finding himself out of sight and hearing of his +wife, he summoned courage to attempt an escape, and, resolutely turning +his back on the West, plunged into the wilderness towards the sunrise. +After a long and hard journey he reached his birthplace, and was kindly +welcomed by his old friends. Keeping a close mouth with respect to his +unlucky adventure in Ohio, he soon after married one of his schoolmates, +and, by dint of persevering industry and economy, in a few years found +himself in possession of a comfortable home. + +But his evil star still lingered above the horizon. One summer evening, +on returning from the hayfield, who should meet him but his witch wife +from Ohio! She came riding up the street on her old white horse, with a +pillion behind the saddle. Accosting him in a kindly tone, yet not +without something of gentle reproach for his unhandsome desertion of +her, she informed him that she had come all the way from Ohio to take +him back again. + +It was in vain that he pleaded his later engagements; it was in vain +that his new wife raised her shrillest remonstrances, not unmingled with +expressions of vehement indignation at the revelation of her husband's +real position; the witch wife was inexorable; go he must, and that +speedily. Fully impressed with a belief in her supernatural power of +compelling obedience, and perhaps dreading more than witchcraft itself +the effects of the unlucky disclosure on the temper of his New England +helpmate, he made a virtue of the necessity of the case, bade farewell +to the latter amidst a perfect hurricane of reproaches, and mounted the +white horse, with his old wife on the pillion behind him. + +Of that ride Burger might have written a counterpart to his ballad:-- + + "Tramp, tramp, along the shore they ride, + Splash, splash, along the sea." + +Two or three years had passed away, bringing no tidings of the +unfortunate husband, when he once more made his appearance in his native +village. He was not disposed to be very communicative; but for one +thing, at least, he seemed willing to express his gratitude. His Ohio +wife, having no spell against intermittent fever, had paid the debt of +nature, and had left him free; in view of which, his surviving wife, +after manifesting a due degree of resentment, consented to take him back +to her bed and board; and I could never learn that she had cause to +regret her clemency. + + + + +THE BEAUTIFUL + + "A beautiful form is better than a beautiful face; + a beautiful behavior is better than a beautiful form; + it gives a higher pleasure than statues or pictures; + it is the finest of the fine arts." + EMERSON'S Essays, Second Series, iv., p. 162. + +A FEW days since I was walking with a friend, who, unfortunately for +himself, seldom meets with anything in the world of realities worthy of +comparison with the ideal of his fancy, which, like the bird in the +Arabian tale, glides perpetually before him, always near yet never +overtaken. He was half humorously, half seriously, complaining of the +lack of beauty in the faces and forms that passed us on the crowded +sidewalk. Some defect was noticeable in all: one was too heavy, another +too angular; here a nose was at fault, there a mouth put a set of +otherwise fine features out of countenance; the fair complexions had red +hair, and glossy black locks were wasted upon dingy ones. In one way or +another all fell below his impossible standard. + +The beauty which my friend seemed in search of was that of proportion +and coloring; mechanical exactness; a due combination of soft curves and +obtuse angles, of warm carnation and marble purity. Such a man, for +aught I can see, might love a graven image, like the girl of Florence +who pined into a shadow for the Apollo Belvidere, looking coldly on her +with stony eyes from his niche in the Vatican. One thing is certain,-- +he will never find his faultless piece of artistical perfection by +searching for it amidst flesh-and-blood realities. Nature does not, +as far as I can perceive, work with square and compass, or lay on her +colors by the rules of royal artists or the dunces of the academies. +She eschews regular outlines. She does not shape her forms by a common +model. Not one of Eve's numerous progeny in all respects resembles her +who first culled the flowers of Eden. To the infinite variety and +picturesque inequality of Nature we owe the great charm of her uncloying +beauty. Look at her primitive woods; scattered trees, with moist sward +and bright mosses at their roots; great clumps of green shadow, where +limb intwists with limb and the rustle of one leaf stirs a hundred +others,--stretching up steep hillsides, flooding with green beauty the +valleys, or arching over with leaves the sharp ravines, every tree and +shrub unlike its neighbor in size and proportion,--the old and storm- +broken leaning on the young and vigorous,--intricate and confused, +without order or method. Who would exchange this for artificial French +gardens, where every tree stands stiff and regular, clipped and trimmed +into unvarying conformity, like so many grenadiers under review? Who +wants eternal sunshine or shadow? Who would fix forever the loveliest +cloudwork of an autumn sunset, or hang over him an everlasting +moonlight? If the stream had no quiet eddying place, could we so admire +its cascade over the rocks? Were there no clouds, could we so hail the +sky shining through them in its still, calm purity? Who shall venture +to ask our kind Mother Nature to remove from our sight any one of her +forms or colors? Who shall decide which is beautiful, or otherwise, in +itself considered? + +There are too many, like my fastidious friend, who go through the world +"from Dan to Beersheba, finding all barren,"--who have always some fault +or other to find with Nature and Providence, seeming to consider +themselves especially ill used because the one does not always coincide +with their taste, nor the other with their narrow notions of personal +convenience. In one of his early poems, Coleridge has well expressed a +truth, which is not the less important because it is not generally +admitted. The idea is briefly this: that the mind gives to all things +their coloring, their gloom, or gladness; that the pleasure we derive +from external nature is primarily from ourselves:-- + + "from the mind itself must issue forth + A light, a glory, a fair luminous mist, + Enveloping the earth." + +The real difficulty of these lifelong hunters after the beautiful exists +in their own spirits. They set up certain models of perfection in their +imaginations, and then go about the world in the vain expectation of +finding them actually wrought out according to pattern; very +unreasonably calculating that Nature will suspend her everlasting laws +for the purpose of creating faultless prodigies for their especial +gratification. + +The authors of Gayeties and Gravities give it as their opinion that no +object of sight is regarded by us as a simple disconnected form, but +that--an instantaneous reflection as to its history, purpose, or +associations converts it into a concrete one,--a process, they shrewdly +remark, which no thinking being can prevent, and which can only be +avoided by the unmeaning and stolid stare of "a goose on the common or a +cow on the green." The senses and the faculties of the understanding +are so blended with and dependent upon each other that not one of them +can exercise its office alone and without the modification of some +extrinsic interference or suggestion. Grateful or unpleasant +associations cluster around all which sense takes cognizance of; the +beauty which we discern in an external object is often but the +reflection of our own minds. + +What is beauty, after all? Ask the lover who kneels in homage to one +who has no attractions for others. The cold onlooker wonders that he +can call that unclassic combination of features and that awkward form +beautiful. Yet so it is. He sees, like Desdemona, her "visage in her +mind," or her affections. A light from within shines through the +external uncomeliness,--softens, irradiates, and glorifies it. That +which to others seems commonplace and unworthy of note is to him, in the +words of Spenser,-- + + "A sweet, attractive kind of grace; + A full assurance given by looks; + Continual comfort in a face; + The lineaments of Gospel books." + +"Handsome is that handsome does,--hold up your heads, girls!" was the +language of Primrose in the play when addressing her daughters. The +worthy matron was right. Would that all my female readers who are +sorrowing foolishly because they are not in all respects like Dubufe's +Eve, or that statue of the Venus "which enchants the world," could be +persuaded to listen to her. What is good looking, as Horace Smith +remarks, but looking good? Be good, be womanly, be gentle,--generous in +your sympathies, heedful of the well-being of all around you; and, my +word for it, you will not lack kind words of admiration. Loving and +pleasant associations will gather about you. Never mind the ugly +reflection which your glass may give you. That mirror has no heart. +But quite another picture is yours on the retina of human sympathy. +There the beauty of holiness, of purity, of that inward grace which +passeth show, rests over it, softening and mellowing its features just +as the full calm moonlight melts those of a rough landscape into +harmonious loveliness. "Hold up your heads, girls!" I repeat after +Primrose. Why should you not? Every mother's daughter of you can be +beautiful. You can envelop yourselves in an atmosphere of moral and +intellectual beauty, through which your otherwise plain faces will look +forth like those of angels. Beautiful to Ledyard, stiffening in the +cold of a northern winter, seemed the diminutive, smokestained women of +Lapland, who wrapped him in their furs and ministered to his necessities +with kindness and gentle words of compassion. Lovely to the homesick +heart of Park seemed the dark maids of Sego, as they sung their low and +simple song of welcome beside his bed, and sought to comfort the white +stranger, who had "no mother to bring him milk and no wife to grind him +corn." Oh, talk as we may of beauty as a thing to be chiselled from +marble or wrought out on canvas, speculate as we may upon its colors and +outlines, what is it but an intellectual abstraction, after all? The +heart feels a beauty of another kind; looking through the outward +environment, it discovers a deeper and more real loveliness. + +This was well understood by the old painters. In their pictures of +Mary, the virgin mother, the beauty which melts and subdues the gazer is +that of the soul and the affections, uniting the awe and mystery of that +mother's miraculous allotment with the irrepressible love, the +unutterable tenderness, of young maternity,--Heaven's crowning miracle +with Nature's holiest and sweetest instinct. And their pale Magdalens, +holy with the look of sins forgiven,--how the divine beauty of their +penitence sinks into the heart! Do we not feel that the only real +deformity is sin, and that goodness evermore hallows and sanctifies its +dwelling-place? When the soul is at rest, when the passions and desires +are all attuned to the divine harmony,-- + + "Spirits moving musically + To a lute's well-ordered law," + The Haunted Palace, by Edgar A. Poe. + +do we not read the placid significance thereof in the human countenance? +"I have seen," said Charles Lamb, "faces upon which the dove of peace +sat brooding." In that simple and beautiful record of a holy life, the +Journal of John Woolman, there is a passage of which I have been more +than once reminded in my intercourse with my fellow-beings: "Some +glances of real beauty may be seen in their faces who dwell in true +meekness. There is a harmony in the sound of that voice to which divine +love gives utterance." + +Quite the ugliest face I ever saw was that of a woman whom the world +calls beautiful. Through its "silver veil" the evil and ungentle +passions looked out hideous and hateful. On the other hand, there are +faces which the multitude at the first glance pronounce homely, +unattractive, and such as "Nature fashions by the gross," which I always +recognize with a warm heart-thrill; not for the world would I have one +feature changed; they please me as they are; they are hallowed by kind +memories; they are beautiful through their associations; nor are they +any the less welcome that with my admiration of them "the stranger +intermeddleth not." + + + + +THE WORLD'S END. + + + + "Our Father Time is weak and gray, + Awaiting for the better day; + See how idiot-like he stands, + Fumbling his old palsied hands!" + SHELLEY's Masque of Anarchy. + +"STAGE ready, gentlemen! Stage for campground, Derry! Second Advent +camp-meeting!" + +Accustomed as I begin to feel to the ordinary sights and sounds of this +busy city, I was, I confess, somewhat startled by this business-like +annunciation from the driver of a stage, who stood beside his horses +swinging his whip with some degree of impatience: "Seventy-five cents to +the Second Advent camp-ground!" + +The stage was soon filled; the driver cracked his whip and went rattling +down the street. + +The Second Advent,--the coming of our Lord in person upon this earth, +with signs, and wonders, and terrible judgments,--the heavens robing +together as a scroll, the elements melting with fervent heat! The +mighty consummation of all things at hand, with its destruction and its +triumphs, sad wailings of the lost and rejoicing songs of the glorified! +From this overswarming hive of industry,--from these crowded treadmills +of gain,--here were men and women going out in solemn earnestness to +prepare for the dread moment which they verily suppose is only a few +months distant,--to lift up their warning voices in the midst of +scoffers and doubters, and to cry aloud to blind priests and careless +churches, "Behold, the Bridegroom cometh!" + +It was one of the most lovely mornings of this loveliest season of the +year; a warm, soft atmosphere; clear sunshine falling on the city spires +and roofs; the hills of Dracut quiet and green in the distance, with +their white farm-houses and scattered trees; around me the continual +tread of footsteps hurrying to the toils of the day; merchants spreading +out their wares for the eyes of purchasers; sounds of hammers, the sharp +clink of trowels, the murmur of the great manufactories subdued by +distance. How was it possible, in the midst of so much life, in that +sunrise light, and in view of all abounding beauty, that the idea of the +death of Nature--the baptism of the world in fire--could take such a +practical shape as this? Yet here were sober, intelligent men, gentle +and pious women, who, verily believing the end to be close at hand, had +left their counting-rooms, and workshops, and household cares to publish +the great tidings, and to startle, if possible, a careless and +unbelieving generation into preparation for the day of the Lord and for +that blessed millennium,--the restored paradise,--when, renovated and +renewed by its fire-purgation, the earth shall become as of old the +garden of the Lord, and the saints alone shall inherit it. + +Very serious and impressive is the fact that this idea of a radical +change in our planet is not only predicted in the Scriptures, but that +the Earth herself, in her primitive rocks and varying formations, on +which are lithographed the history of successive convulsions, darkly +prophesies of others to come. The old poet prophets, all the world +over, have sung of a renovated world. A vision of it haunted the +contemplations of Plato. It is seen in the half-inspired speculations +of the old Indian mystics. The Cumaean sibyl saw it in her trances. +The apostles and martyrs of our faith looked for it anxiously and +hopefully. Gray anchorites in the deserts, worn pilgrims to the holy +places of Jewish and Christian tradition, prayed for its coming. It +inspired the gorgeous visions of the early fathers. In every age since +the Christian era, from the caves, and forests, and secluded "upper +chambers" of the times of the first missionaries of the cross, from the +Gothic temples of the Middle Ages, from the bleak mountain gorges of the +Alps, where the hunted heretics put up their expostulation, "How long, +O Lord, how long?" down to the present time, and from this Derry +campground, have been uttered the prophecy and the prayer for its +fulfilment. + +How this great idea manifests itself in the lives of the enthusiasts of +the days of Cromwell! Think of Sir Henry Vane, cool, sagacious +statesman as he was, waiting with eagerness for the foreshadowings of +the millennium, and listening, even in the very council hall, for the +blast of the last trumpet! Think of the Fifth Monarchy Men, weary with +waiting for the long-desired consummation, rushing out with drawn swords +and loaded matchlocks into the streets of London to establish at once +the rule of King Jesus! Think of the wild enthusiasts at Munster, +verily imagining that the millennial reign had commenced in their mad +city! Still later, think of Granville Sharpe, diligently laboring in +his vocation of philanthropy, laying plans for the slow but beneficent +amelioration of the condition of his country and the world, and at the +same time maintaining, with the zeal of Father Miller himself, that the +earth was just on the point of combustion, and that the millennium would +render all his benevolent schemes of no sort of consequence! + +And, after all, is the idea itself a vain one? Shall to-morrow be as +to-day? Shall the antagonism of good and evil continue as heretofore +forever? Is there no hope that this world-wide prophecy of the human +soul, uttered in all climes, in all times, shall yet be fulfilled? Who +shall say it may not be true? Nay, is not its truth proved by its +universality? The hope of all earnest souls must be realized. That +which, through a distorted and doubtful medium, shone even upon the +martyr enthusiasts of the French revolution,--soft gleams of heaven's +light rising over the hell of man's passions and crimes,--the glorious +ideal of Shelley, who, atheist as he was through early prejudice and +defective education, saw the horizon of the world's future kindling with +the light of a better day,--that hope and that faith which constitute, +as it were, the world's life, and without which it would be dark and +dead, cannot be in vain. + +I do not, I confess, sympathize with my Second Advent friends in their +lamentable depreciation of Mother Earth even in her present state. I +find it extremely difficult to comprehend how it is that this goodly, +green, sunlit home of ours is resting under a curse. It really does not +seem to me to be altogether like the roll which the angel bore in the +prophet's vision, "written within and without with mourning, +lamentation, and woe." September sunsets, changing forests, moonrise +and cloud, sun and rain,--I for one am contented with them. They fill +my heart with a sense of beauty. I see in them the perfect work of +infinite love as well as wisdom. It may be that our Advent friends, +however, coincide with the opinions of an old writer on the prophecies, +who considered the hills and valleys of the earth's surface and its +changes of seasons as so many visible manifestations of God's curse, and +that in the millennium, as in the days of Adam's innocence, all these +picturesque inequalities would be levelled nicely away, and the flat +surface laid handsomely down to grass. + +As might be expected, the effect of this belief in the speedy +destruction of the world and the personal coming of the Messiah, acting +upon a class of uncultivated, and, in some cases, gross minds, is not +always in keeping with the enlightened Christian's ideal of the better +day. One is shocked in reading some of the "hymns" of these believers. +Sensual images,--semi-Mahometan descriptions of the condition of the +"saints,"--exultations over the destruction of the "sinners,"--mingle +with the beautiful and soothing promises of the prophets. There are +indeed occasionally to be found among the believers men of refined and +exalted spiritualism, who in their lives and conversation remind one of +Tennyson's Christian knight-errant in his yearning towards the hope set +before him: + + "to me is given + Such hope I may not fear; + I long to breathe the airs of heaven, + Which sometimes meet me here. + + "I muse on joys that cannot cease, + Pure spaces filled with living beams, + White lilies of eternal peace, + Whose odors haunt my dreams." + +One of the most ludicrous examples of the sensual phase of Millerism, +the incongruous blending of the sublime with the ridiculous, was +mentioned to me not long since. A fashionable young woman in the +western part of this State became an enthusiastic believer in the +doctrine. On the day which had been designated as the closing one of +time she packed all her fine dresses and toilet valuables in a large +trunk, with long straps attached to it, and, seating herself upon it, +buckled the straps over her shoulders, patiently awaiting the crisis,-- +shrewdly calculating that, as she must herself go upwards, her goods and +chattels would of necessity follow. + +Three or four years ago, on my way eastward, I spent an hour or two at a +camp-ground of the Second Advent in East Kingston. The spot was well +chosen. A tall growth of pine and hemlock threw its melancholy shadow +over the multitude, who were arranged upon rough seats of boards and +logs. Several hundred--perhaps a thousand people--were present, and +more were rapidly coming. Drawn about in a circle, forming a background +of snowy whiteness to the dark masses of men and foliage, were the white +tents, and back of them the provision-stalls and cook-shops. When I +reached the ground, a hymn, the words of which I could not distinguish, +was pealing through the dim aisles of the forest. I could readily +perceive that it had its effect upon the multitude before me, kindling +to higher intensity their already excited enthusiasm. The preachers +were placed in a rude pulpit of rough boards, carpeted only by the dead +forest-leaves and flowers, and tasselled, not with silk and velvet, but +with the green boughs of the sombre hemlocks around it. One of them +followed the music in an earnest exhortation on the duty of preparing +for the great event. Occasionally he was really eloquent, and his +description of the last day had the ghastly distinctness of Anelli's +painting of the End of the World. + +Suspended from the front of the rude pulpit were two broad sheets of +canvas, upon one of which was the figure of a man, the head of gold, the +breast and arms of silver, the belly of brass, the legs of iron, and +feet of clay,--the dream of Nebuchadnezzar. On the other were depicted +the wonders of the Apocalyptic vision,--the beasts, the dragons, the +scarlet woman seen by the seer of Patmos, Oriental types, figures, and +mystic symbols, translated into staring Yankee realities, and exhibited +like the beasts of a travelling menagerie. One horrible image, with its +hideous heads and scaly caudal extremity, reminded me of the tremendous +line of Milton, who, in speaking of the same evil dragon, describes him +as + + "Swinging the scaly horrors of his folded tail." + +To an imaginative mind the scene was full of novel interest. The white +circle of tents; the dim wood arches; the upturned, earnest faces; the +loud voices of the speakers, burdened with the awful symbolic language +of the Bible; the smoke from the fires, rising like incense,--carried me +back to those days of primitive worship which tradition faintly whispers +of, when on hill-tops and in the shade of old woods Religion had her +first altars, with every man for her priest and the whole universe for +her temple. + +Wisely and truthfully has Dr. Channing spoken of this doctrine of the +Second Advent in his memorable discourse in Berkshire a little before +his death:-- + +"There are some among us at the present moment who are waiting for the +speedy coming of Christ. They expect, before another year closes, to +see Him in the clouds, to hear His voice, to stand before His judgment- +seat. These illusions spring from misinterpretation of Scripture +language. Christ, in the New Testament, is said to come whenever His +religion breaks out in new glory or gains new triumphs. He came in the +Holy Spirit in the day of Pentecost. He came in the destruction of +Jerusalem, which, by subverting the old ritual law and breaking the +power of the worst enemies of His religion, insured to it new victories. +He came in the reformation of the Church. He came on this day four +years ago, when, through His religion, eight hundred thousand men were +raised from the lowest degradation to the rights, and dignity, and +fellowship of men. Christ's outward appearance is of little moment +compared with the brighter manifestation of His spirit. The Christian, +whose inward eyes and ears are touched by God, discerns the coming of +Christ, hears the sound of His chariot-wheels and the voice of His +trumpet, when no other perceives them. He discerns the Saviour's advent +in the dawning of higher truth on the world, in new aspirations of the +Church after perfection, in the prostration of prejudice and error, in +brighter expressions of Christian love, in more enlightened and intense +consecration of the Christian to the cause of humanity, freedom, and +religion. Christ comes in the conversion, the regeneration, the +emancipation, of the world." + + + + +THE HEROINE OF LONG POINT. (1869.) + +LOOKING at the Government Chart of Lake Erie, one sees the outlines of a +long, narrow island, stretching along the shore of Canada West, opposite +the point where Loudon District pushes its low, wooded wedge into the +lake. This is Long Point Island, known and dreaded by the navigators of +the inland sea which batters its yielding shores, and tosses into +fantastic shapes its sandheaps. The eastern end is some twenty miles +from the Canada shore, while on the west it is only separated from the +mainland by a narrow strait known as "The Cut." It is a sandy, desolate +region, broken by small ponds, with dreary tracts of fenland, its ridges +covered with a low growth of pine, oak, beech, and birch, in the midst +of which, in its season, the dogwood puts out its white blossoms. Wild +grapes trail over the sand-dunes and festoon the dwarf trees. Here and +there are almost impenetrable swamps, thick-set with white cedars, +intertwisted and contorted by the lake winds, and broken by the weight +of snow and ice in winter. Swans and wild geese paddle in the shallow, +reedy bayous; raccoons and even deer traverse the sparsely wooded +ridges. The shores of its creeks and fens are tenanted by minks and +muskrats. The tall tower of a light-house rises at the eastern +extremity of the island, the keeper of which is now its solitary +inhabitant. + +Fourteen years ago, another individual shared the proprietorship of Long +Point. This was John Becker, who dwelt on the south side of the island, +near its westerly termination, in a miserable board shanty nestled +between naked sand-hills. He managed to make a poor living by trapping +and spearing muskrats, the skins of which he sold to such boatmen and +small-craft skippers as chanced to land on his forlorn territory. His +wife, a large, mild-eyed, patient young woman of some twenty-six years, +kept her hut and children as tidy as circumstances admitted, assisted +her husband in preparing the skins, and sometimes accompanied him on his +trapping excursions. + +On that lonely coast, seldom visited in summer, and wholly cut off from +human communication in winter, they might have lived and died with as +little recognition from the world as the minks and wildfowl with whom +they were tenants in common, but for a circumstance which called into +exercise unsuspected qualities of generous courage and heroic self- +sacrifice. + +The dark, stormy close of November, 1854, found many vessels on Lake +Erie, but the fortunes of one alone have special interest for us. About +that time the schooner Conductor, owned by John McLeod, of the +Provincial Parliament, a resident of Amherstburg, at the mouth of the +Detroit River, entered the lake from that river, bound for Port +Dalhousie, at the mouth of the Welland Canal. + +She was heavily loaded with grain. Her crew consisted of Captain +Hackett, a Highlander by birth, and a skilful and experienced navigator, +and six sailors. At nightfall, shortly after leaving the head of the +lake, one of those terrific storms, with which the late autumnal +navigators of that "Sea of the Woods" are all too familiar, overtook +them. The weather was intensely cold for the season; the air was filled +with snow and sleet; the chilled water made ice rapidly, encumbering the +schooner, and loading down her decks and rigging. As the gale +increased, the tops of the waves were shorn off by the fierce blasts, +clouding the whole atmosphere with frozen spray, or what the sailors +call "spoondrift," rendering it impossible to see any object a few rods +distant. Driving helplessly before the wind, yet in the direction of +her place of destination, the schooner sped through the darkness. At +last, near midnight, running closer than her crew supposed to the +Canadian shore, she struck on the outer bar off Long Point Island, beat +heavily across it, and sunk in the deeper water between it and the inner +bar. The hull was entirely submerged, the waves rolling in heavily, and +dashing over the rigging, to which the crew betook themselves. Lashed +there, numb with cold, drenched by the pitiless waves, and scourged by +the showers of sleet driven before the wind, they waited for morning. +The slow, dreadful hours wore away, and at length the dubious and +doubtful gray of a morning of tempest succeeded to the utter darkness of +night. + +Abigail Becker chanced at that time to be in her hut with none but her +young children. Her husband was absent on the Canada shore, and she was +left the sole adult occupant of the island, save the light-keeper, at +its lower end, some fifteen miles off. Looking out at daylight on the +beach in front of her door, she saw the shattered boat of the Conductor, +east up by the waves. Her experience of storm and disaster on that +dangerous coast needed nothing more to convince her that somewhere in +her neighborhood human life had been, or still was, in peril. She +followed the southwesterly trend of the island for a little distance, +and, peering through the gloom of the stormy morning, discerned the +spars of the sunken schooner, with what seemed to be human forms +clinging to the rigging. The heart of the strong woman sunk within her, +as she gazed upon those helpless fellow-creatures, so near, yet so +unapproachable. She had no boat, and none could have lived on that wild +water. After a moment's reflection she went back to her dwelling, put +the smaller children in charge of the eldest, took with her an iron +kettle, tin teapot, and matches, and returned to the beach, at the +nearest point to the vessel; and, gathering up the logs and drift-wood +always abundant, on the coast, kindled a great fire, and, constantly +walking back and forth between it and the water, strove to intimate to +the sufferers that they were at least not beyond human sympathy. As the +wrecked sailors looked shoreward, and saw, through the thick haze of +snow and sleet, the red light of the fire and the tall figure of the +woman passing to and fro before it, a faint hope took the place of the +utter despair which had prompted them to let go their hold and drop into +the seething waters, that opened and closed about them like the jaws of +death. But the day wore on, bringing no abatement of the storm that +tore through the frail spars, and clutched at and tossed them as it +passed, and drenched them with ice-cold spray,--a pitiless, unrelenting +horror of sight, sound, and touch! At last the deepening gloom told +them that night was approaching, and night under such circumstances was +death. + +All day long Abigail Becker had fed her fire, and sought to induce the +sailors by signals--for even her strong voice could not reach them--to +throw themselves into the surf, and trust to Providence and her for +succor. In anticipation of this, she had her kettle boiling over the +drift-wood, and her tea ready made for restoring warmth and life to the +half-frozen survivors. But either they did not understand her, or the +chance of rescue seemed too small to induce them to abandon the +temporary safety of the wreck. They clung to it with the desperate +instinct of life brought face to face with death. Just at nightfall +there was a slight break in the west; a red light glared across the +thick air, as if for one instant the eye of the storm looked out upon +the ruin it had wrought, and closed again under lids of cloud. Taking +advantage of this, the solitary watcher ashore made one more effort. +She waded out into the water, every drop of which, as it struck the +beach, became a particle of ice, and stretching out and drawing in her +arms, invited, by her gestures, the sailors to throw themselves into the +waves, and strive to reach her. Captain Hackett understood her. He +called to his mate in the rigging of the other mast: "It is our last +chance. I will try! If I live, follow me; if I drown, stay where you +are!" With a great effort he got off his stiffly frozen overcoat, +paused for one moment in silent commendation of his soul to God, and, +throwing himself into the waves, struck out for the shore. Abigail +Becker, breast-deep in the surf, awaited him. He was almost within her +reach, when the undertow swept him back. By a mighty exertion she +caught hold of him, bore him in her strong arms out of the water, and, +laying him down by her fire, warmed his chilled blood with copious +draughts of hot tea. The mate, who had watched the rescue, now +followed, and the captain, partially restored, insisted upon aiding him. +As the former neared the shore, the recoiling water baffled him. +Captain Hackett caught hold of him, but the undertow swept them both +away, locked in each other's arms. The brave woman plunged after them, +and, with the strength of a giantess, bore them, clinging to each other, +to the shore, and up to her fire. The five sailors followed in +succession, and were all rescued in the same way. + +A few days after, Captain Hackett and his crew were taken off Long Point +by a passing vessel; and Abigail Becker resumed her simple daily duties +without dreaming that she had done anything extraordinary enough to win +for her the world's notice. In her struggle every day for food and +warmth for her children, she had no leisure for the indulgence of self- +congratulation. Like the woman of Scripture, she had only "done what +she could," in the terrible exigency that had broken the dreary monotony +of her life. + +It so chanced, however, that a gentleman from Buffalo, E. P. Dorr, who +had, in his early days, commanded a vessel on the lake, found himself, +shortly after, at a small port on the Canada shore, not far from Long +Point Island. Here he met an old shipmate, Captain Davis, whose vessel +had gone ashore at a more favorable point, and who related to him the +circumstances of the wreck of the Conductor. Struck by the account, +Captain Dorr procured a sleigh and drove across the frozen bay to the +shanty of Abigail Becker. He found her with her six children, all +thinly clad and barefooted in the bitter cold. She stood there six feet +or more of substantial womanhood,--not in her stockings, for she had +none,--a veritable daughter of Anak, broad-bosomed, large-limbed, with +great, patient blue eyes, whose very smile had a certain pathos, as if +one saw in it her hard and weary life-experience. She might have passed +for any amiable giantess, or one of those much--developed maids of honor +who tossed Gulliver from hand to hand in the court of Brobdingnag. The +thing that most surprised her visitor was the childlike simplicity of +the woman, her utter unconsciousness of deserving anything for an action +that seemed to her merely a matter of course. When he expressed his +admiration with all the warmth of a generous nature, she only opened her +wide blue eyes still wider with astonishment. + +"Well, I don't know," she said, slowly, as if pondering the matter for +the first time,--"I don't know as I did more 'n I'd ought to, nor more'n +I'd do again." + +Before Captain Dorr left, he took the measure of her own and her +children's feet, and on his return to Buffalo sent her a box containing +shoes, stockings, and such other comfortable articles of clothing as +they most needed. He published a brief account of his visit to the +heroine of Long Point, which attracted the attention of some members of +the Provincial Parliament, and through their exertions a grant of one +hundred acres of land, on the Canada shore, near Port Rowan, was made to +her. Soon after she was invited to Buffalo, where she naturally excited +much interest. A generous contribution of one thousand dollars, to +stock her farm, was made by the merchants, ship-owners and masters of +the city, and she returned to her family a grateful and, in her own +view, a rich woman. + +When the story of her adventure reached New York, the Life-Saving +Benevolent Association sent her a gold medal with an appropriate +inscription, and a request that she would send back a receipt in her own +name. As she did not know how to write, Captain Dorr hit upon the +expedient of having her photograph taken with the medal in her hand, and +sent that in lieu of her autograph. + +In a recent letter dictated at Walsingham, where Abigail Becker now +lives,--a widow, cultivating with her own hands her little farm in the +wilderness,--she speaks gratefully of the past and hopefully of the +future. She mentions a message received from Captain Hackett, who she +feared had almost forgotten her, that he was about to make her a visit, +adding with a touch of shrewdness: "After his second shipwreck last +summer, I think likely that I must have recurred very fresh to him." + +The strong lake winds now blow unchecked over the sand-hills where once +stood the board shanty of Abigail Becker. But the summer tourist of the +great lakes, who remembers her story, will not fail to give her a place +in his imagination with Perry's battle-line and the Indian heroines of +Cooper and Longfellow. Through her the desolate island of Long Point is +richly dowered with the interest which a brave and generous action gives +to its locality. + + + + + +VOLUME VI. OLD PORTRAITS AND MODERN SKETCHES, plus PERSONAL SKETCHES AND TRIBUTES and HISTORICAL PAPERS + + + +CONTENTS + + OLD PORTRAITS AND MODERN SKETCHES. + JOHN BUNYAN + THOMAS ELLWOOD + JAMES NAYLER + ANDREW MARVELL + JOHN ROBERTS + SAMUEL HOPKINS + RICHARD BAXTER + WILLIAM LEGGETT + NATHANIEL PEABODY ROGERS + ROBERT DINSMORE + PLACIDO, THE SLAVE POET + + PERSONAL SKETCHES AND TRIBUTES. + THE FUNERAL OF TORREY + EDWARD EVERETT + LEWIS TAPPAN + BAYARD TAYLOR + WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING + DEATH OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD + LYDIA MARIA CHILD + + OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES + LONGFELLOW + OLD NEWBURY + SCHOOLDAY REMEMBRANCES + EDWIN PERCY WHIPPLE + + HISTORICAL PAPERS. + DANIEL O'CONNELL + ENGLAND UNDER JAMES II. + THE BORDER WAR OF 1708 + THE GREAT IPSWICH FRIGHT + THE BOY CAPTIVES + THE BLACK MEN IN THE REVOLUTION AND WAR OF 1812 + THE SCOTTISH REFORMERS + THE PILGRIMS OF PLYMOUTH + GOVERNOR ENDICOTT + JOHN WINTHROP + + + + +OLD PORTRAITS AND MODERN SKETCHES + + Inscribed as follows, when first collected in book-form:-- + To Dr. G. BAILEY, of the National Era, Washington, D. C., these + sketches, many of which originally appeared in the columns of the + paper under his editorial supervision, are, in their present form, + offered as a token of the esteem and confidence which years of + political and literary communion have justified and confirmed, on + the part of his friend and associate, + THE AUTHOR. + + + + JOHN BUNYAN. + + "Wouldst see + A man I' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee?" + +Who has not read Pilgrim's Progress? Who has not, in childhood, +followed the wandering Christian on his way to the Celestial City? Who +has not laid at night his young head on the pillow, to paint on the +walls of darkness pictures of the Wicket Gate and the Archers, the Hill +of Difficulty, the Lions and Giants, Doubting Castle and Vanity Fair, +the sunny Delectable Mountains and the Shepherds, the Black River and +the wonderful glory beyond it; and at last fallen asleep, to dream over +the strange story, to hear the sweet welcomings of the sisters at the +House Beautiful, and the song of birds from the window of that "upper +chamber which opened towards the sunrising?" And who, looking back to +the green spots in his childish experiences, does not bless the good +Tinker of Elstow? + +And who, that has reperused the story of the Pilgrim at a maturer age, +and felt the plummet of its truth sounding in the deep places of the +soul, has not reason to bless the author for some timely warning or +grateful encouragement? Where is the scholar, the poet, the man of taste +and feeling, who does not, with Cowper, + + "Even in transitory life's late day, + Revere the man whose Pilgrim marks the road, + And guides the Progress of the soul to God!" + +We have just been reading, with no slight degree of interest, that simple +but wonderful piece of autobiography, entitled Grace abounding to the +Chief of Sinners, from the pen of the author of Pilgrim's Progress. It +is the record of a journey more terrible than that of the ideal Pilgrim; +"truth stranger than fiction;" the painful upward struggling of a spirit +from the blackness of despair and blasphemy, into the high, pure air of +Hope and Faith. More earnest words were never written. It is the entire +unveiling of a human heart; the tearing off of the fig-leaf covering of +its sin. The voice which speaks to us from these old pages seems not so +much that of a denizen of the world in which we live, as of a soul at the +last solemn confessional. Shorn of all ornament, simple and direct as +the contrition and prayer of childhood, when for the first time the +Spectre of Sin stands by its bedside, the style is that of a man dead to +self-gratification, careless of the world's opinion, and only desirous to +convey to others, in all truthfulness and sincerity, the lesson of his +inward trials, temptations, sins, weaknesses, and dangers; and to give +glory to Him who had mercifully led him through all, and enabled him, +like his own Pilgrim, to leave behind the Valley of the Shadow of Death, +the snares of the Enchanted Ground, and the terrors of Doubting Castle, +and to reach the land of Beulah, where the air was sweet and pleasant, +and the birds sang and the flowers sprang up around him, and the Shining +Ones walked in the brightness of the not distant Heaven. In the +introductory pages he says "he could have dipped into a style higher than +this in which I have discoursed, and could have adorned all things more +than here I have seemed to do; but I dared not. God did not play in +tempting me; neither did I play when I sunk, as it were, into a +bottomless pit, when the pangs of hell took hold on me; wherefore, I may +not play in relating of them, but be plain and simple, and lay down the +thing as it was." + +This book, as well as Pilgrim's Progress, was written in Bedford prison, +and was designed especially for the comfort and edification of his +"children, whom God had counted him worthy to beget in faith by his +ministry." In his introduction he tells them, that, although taken from +them, and tied up, "sticking, as it were, between the teeth of the lions +of the wilderness," he once again, as before, from the top of Shemer and +Hermon, so now, from the lion's den and the mountain of leopards, would +look after then with fatherly care and desires for their everlasting +welfare. "If," said he, "you have sinned against light; if you are +tempted to blaspheme; if you are drowned in despair; if you think God +fights against you; or if Heaven is hidden from your eyes, remember it +was so with your father. But out of all the Lord delivered me." + +He gives no dates; he affords scarcely a clue to his localities; of the +man, as he worked, and ate, and drank, and lodged, of his neighbors and +contemporaries, of all he saw and heard of the world about him, we have +only an occasional glimpse, here and there, in his narrative. It is the +story of his inward life only that he relates. What had time and place +to do with one who trembled always with the awful consciousness of an +immortal nature, and about whom fell alternately the shadows of hell and +the splendors of heaven? We gather, indeed, from his record, that he was +not an idle on-looker in the time of England's great struggle for +freedom, but a soldier of the Parliament, in his young years, among the +praying sworders and psalm-singing pikemen, the Greathearts and Holdfasts +whom he has immortalized in his allegory; but the only allusion which he +makes to this portion of his experience is by way of illustration of the +goodness of God in preserving him on occasions of peril. + +He was born at Elstow, in Bedfordshire, in 1628; and, to use his own +words, his "father's house was of that rank which is the meanest and most +despised of all the families of the land." His father was a tinker, and +the son followed the same calling, which necessarily brought him into +association with the lowest and most depraved classes of English society. +The estimation in which the tinker and his occupation were held, in the +seventeenth century, may be learned from the quaint and humorous +description of Sir Thomas Overbury. "The tinker," saith he, "is a +movable, for he hath no abiding in one place; he seems to be devout, for +his life is a continual pilgrimage, and sometimes, in humility, goes +barefoot, therein making necessity a virtue; he is a gallant, for he +carries all his wealth upon his back; or a philosopher, for he bears all +his substance with him. He is always furnished with a song, to which his +hammer, keeping tune, proves that he was the first founder of the kettle- +drum; where the best ale is, there stands his music most upon crotchets. +The companion of his travel is some foul, sun-burnt quean, that, since +the terrible statute, has recanted gypsyism, and is turned pedlaress. So +marches he all over England, with his bag and baggage; his conversation +is irreprovable, for he is always mending. He observes truly the +statutes, and therefore had rather steal than beg. He is so strong an +enemy of idleness, that in mending one hole he would rather make three +than want work; and when he hath done, he throws the wallet of his faults +behind him. His tongue is very voluble, which, with canting, proves him +a linguist. He is entertained in every place, yet enters no farther than +the door, to avoid suspicion. To conclude, if he escape Tyburn and +Banbury, he dies a beggar." + +Truly, but a poor beginning for a pious life was the youth of John +Bunyan. As might have been expected, he was a wild, reckless, swearing +boy, as his father doubtless was before him. "It was my delight," says +he, "to be taken captive by the Devil. I had few equals, both for +cursing and swearing, lying and blaspheming." Yet, in his ignorance and +darkness, his powerful imagination early lent terror to the reproaches of +conscience. He was scared, even in childhood, with dreams of hell and +apparitions of devils. Troubled with fears of eternal fire, and the +malignant demons who fed it in the regions of despair, he says that he +often wished either that there was no hell, or that he had been born a +devil himself, that he might be a tormentor rather than one of the +tormented. + +At an early age he appears to have married. His wife was as poor as +himself, for he tells us that they had not so much as a dish or spoon +between them; but she brought with her two books on religious subjects, +the reading of which seems to have had no slight degree of influence on +his mind. He went to church regularly, adored the priest and all things +pertaining to his office, being, as he says, "overrun with superstition." +On one occasion, a sermon was preached against the breach of the Sabbath +by sports or labor, which struck him at the moment as especially designed +for himself; but by the time he had finished his dinner he was prepared +to "shake it out of his mind, and return to his sports and gaming." + +"But the same day," he continues, "as I was in the midst of a game of +cat, and having struck it one blow from the hole, just as I was about to +strike it a second time, a voice did suddenly dart from Heaven into my +soul, which said, 'Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy +sins and go to hell?' At this, I was put to an exceeding maze; +wherefore, leaving my cat upon the ground, I looked up to Heaven, and it +was as if I had, with the eyes of my understanding, seen the Lord Jesus +look down upon me, as being very hotly displeased with me, and as if He +did severely threaten me with some grievous punishment for those and +other ungodly practices. + +"I had no sooner thus conceived in my mind, but suddenly this conclusion +fastened on my spirit, (for the former hint did set my sins again before +my face,) that I had been a great and grievous sinner, and that it was +now too late for me to look after Heaven; for Christ would not forgive me +nor pardon my transgressions. Then, while I was thinking of it, and +fearing lest it should be so, I felt my heart sink in despair, concluding +it was too late; and therefore I resolved in my mind to go on in sin; +for, thought I, if the case be thus, my state is surely miserable; +miserable if I leave my sins, and but miserable if I follow them; I can +but be damned; and if I must be so, I had as good be damned for many sins +as be damned for few." + +The reader of Pilgrim's Progress cannot fail here to call to mind the +wicked suggestions of the Giant to Christian, in the dungeon of Doubting +Castle. + +"I returned," he says, "desperately to my sport again; and I well +remember, that presently this kind of despair did so possess my soul, +that I was persuaded I could never attain to other comfort than what I +should get in sin; for Heaven was gone already, so that on that I must +not think; wherefore, I found within me great desire to take my fill of +sin, that I might taste the sweetness of it; and I made as much haste as +I could to fill my belly with its delicates, lest I should die before I +had my desires; for that I feared greatly. In these things, I protest +before God, I lie not, neither do I frame this sort of speech; these were +really, strongly, and with all my heart, my desires; the good Lord, whose +mercy is unsearchable, forgive my transgressions." + +One day, while standing in the street, cursing and blaspheming, he met +with a reproof which startled him. The woman of the house in front of +which the wicked young tinker was standing, herself, as he remarks, "a +very loose, ungodly wretch," protested that his horrible profanity made +her tremble; that he was the ungodliest fellow for swearing she had ever +heard, and able to spoil all the youth of the town who came in his +company. Struck by this wholly unexpected rebuke, he at once abandoned +the practice of swearing; although previously he tells us that "he had +never known how to speak, unless he put an oath before and another +behind." + +The good name which he gained by this change was now a temptation to him. +"My neighbors," he says, "were amazed at my great conversion from +prodigious profaneness to something like a moral life and sober man. +Now, therefore, they began to praise, to commend, and to speak well of +me, both to my face and behind my back. Now I was, as they said, become +godly; now I was become a right honest man. But oh! when I understood +those were their words and opinions of me, it pleased me mighty well; for +though as yet I was nothing but a poor painted hypocrite, yet I loved to +be talked of as one that was truly godly. I was proud of my godliness, +and, indeed, I did all I did either to be seen of or well spoken of by +men; and thus I continued for about a twelvemonth or more." + +The tyranny of his imagination at this period is seen in the following +relation of his abandonment of one of his favorite sports. + +"Now, you must know, that before this I had taken much delight in +ringing, but my conscience beginning to be tender, I thought such +practice was but vain, and therefore forced myself to leave it; yet my +mind hankered; wherefore, I would go to the steeple-house and look on, +though I durst not ring; but I thought this did not become religion +neither; yet I forced myself, and would look on still. But quickly +after, I began to think, 'How if one of the bells should fall?' Then I +chose to stand under a main beam, that lay overthwart the steeple, from +side to side, thinking here I might stand sure; but then I thought again, +should the bell fall with a swing, it might first hit the wall, and then, +rebounding upon me, might kill me for all this beam. This made me stand +in the steeple door; and now, thought I, I am safe enough; for if a bell +should then fall, I can slip out behind these thick walls, and so be +preserved notwithstanding. + +"So after this I would yet go to see them ring, but would not go any +farther than the steeple-door. But then it came in my head, 'How if the +steeple itself should fall?' And this thought (it may, for aught I know, +when I stood and looked on) did continually so shake my mind, that I +durst not stand at the steeple-door any longer, but was forced to flee, +for fear the steeple should fall upon my head." + +About this time, while wandering through Bedford in pursuit of +employment, he chanced to see three or four poor old women sitting at a +door, in the evening sun, and, drawing near them, heard them converse +upon the things of God; of His work in their hearts; of their natural +depravity; of the temptations of the Adversary; and of the joy of +believing, and of the peace of reconciliation. The words of the aged +women found a response in the soul of the listener. "He felt his heart +shake," to use his own words; he saw that he lacked the true tokens of a +Christian. He now forsook the company of the profane and licentious, and +sought that of a poor man who had the reputation of piety, but, to his +grief, he found him "a devilish ranter, given up to all manner of +uncleanness; he would laugh at all exhortations to sobriety, and deny +that there was a God, an angel, or a spirit." + +"Neither," he continues, "was this man only a temptation to me, but, my +calling lying in the country, I happened to come into several people's +company, who, though strict in religion formerly, yet were also drawn +away by these ranters. These would also talk with me of their ways, and +condemn me as illegal and dark; pretending that they only had attained to +perfection, that they could do what they would, and not sin. Oh! these +temptations were suitable to my flesh, I being but a young man, and my +nature in its prime; but God, who had, as I hope, designed me for better +things, kept me in the fear of His name, and did not suffer me to accept +such cursed principles." + +At this time he was sadly troubled to ascertain whether or not he had +that faith which the Scriptures spake of. Travelling one day from Elstow +to Bedford, after a recent rain, which had left pools of water in the +path, he felt a strong desire to settle the question, by commanding the +pools to become dry, and the dry places to become pools. Going under the +hedge, to pray for ability to work the miracle, he was struck with the +thought that if he failed he should know, indeed, that he was a castaway, +and give himself up to despair. He dared not attempt the experiment, and +went on his way, to use his own forcible language, "tossed up and down +between the Devil and his own ignorance." + +Soon after, he had one of those visions which foreshadowed the wonderful +dream of his Pilgrim's Progress. He saw some holy people of Bedford on +the sunny side of an high mountain, refreshing themselves in the pleasant +air and sunlight, while he was shivering in cold and darkness, amidst +snows and never-melting ices, like the victims of the Scandinavian hell. +A wall compassed the mountain, separating him from the blessed, with one +small gap or doorway, through which, with great pain and effort, he was +at last enabled to work his way into the sunshine, and sit down with the +saints, in the light and warmth thereof. + +But now a new trouble assailed him. Like Milton's metaphysical spirits, +who sat apart, + +"And reasoned of foreknowledge, will, and fate," he grappled with one of +those great questions which have always perplexed and baffled human +inquiry, and upon which much has been written to little purpose. He was +tortured with anxiety to know whether, according to the Westminster +formula, he was elected to salvation or damnation. His old adversary +vexed his soul with evil suggestions, and even quoted Scripture to +enforce them. "It may be you are not elected," said the Tempter; and the +poor tinker thought the supposition altogether too probable. "Why, +then," said Satan, "you had as good leave off, and strive no farther; for +if, indeed, you should not be elected and chosen of God, there is no hope +of your being saved; for it is neither in him that willeth nor in him +that runneth, but in God who showeth mercy." At length, when, as he +says, he was about giving up the ghost of all his hopes, this passage +fell with weight upon his spirit: "Look at the generations of old, and +see; did ever any trust in God, and were confounded?" Comforted by these +words, he opened his Bible took note them, but the most diligent search +and inquiry of his neighbors failed to discover them. At length his eye +fell upon them in the Apocryphal book of Ecclesiasticus. This, he says, +somewhat doubted him at first, as the book was not canonical; but in the +end he took courage and comfort from the passage. "I bless God," he +says, "for that word; it was good for me. That word doth still +oftentimes shine before my face." + +A long and weary struggle was now before him. "I cannot," he says, +"express with what longings and breathings of my soul I cried unto Christ +to call me. Gold! could it have been gotten by gold, what would I have +given for it. Had I a whole world, it had all gone ten thousand times +over for this, that my soul might have been in a converted state. How +lovely now was every one in my eyes, that I thought to be converted men +and women. They shone, they walked like a people who carried the broad +seal of Heaven with them." + +With what force and intensity of language does he portray in the +following passage the reality and earnestness of his agonizing +experience:-- + +"While I was thus afflicted with the fears of my own damnation, there +were two things would make me wonder: the one was, when I saw old people +hunting after the things of this life, as if they should live here +always; the other was, when I found professors much distressed and cast +down, when they met with outward losses; as of husband, wife, or child. +Lord, thought I, what seeking after carnal things by some, and what grief +in others for the loss of them! If they so much labor after and shed so +many tears for the things of this present life, how am I to be bemoaned, +pitied, and prayed for! My soul is dying, my soul is damning. Were my +soul but in a good condition, and were I but sure of it, ah I how rich +should I esteem myself, though blessed but with bread and water! I +should count these but small afflictions, and should bear them as little +burdens. 'A wounded spirit who can bear!'" + +He looked with envy, as he wandered through the country, upon the birds +in the trees, the hares in the preserves, and the fishes in the streams. +They were happy in their brief existence, and their death was but a +sleep. He felt himself alienated from God, a discord in the harmonies of +the universe. The very rooks which fluttered around the old church spire +seemed more worthy of the Creator's love and care than himself. A vision +of the infernal fire, like that glimpse of hell which was afforded to +Christian by the Shepherds, was continually before him, with its +"rumbling noise, and the cry of some tormented, and the scent of +brimstone." Whithersoever he went, the glare of it scorched him, and its +dreadful sound was in his ears. His vivid but disturbed imagination lent +new terrors to the awful figures by which the sacred writers conveyed the +idea of future retribution to the Oriental mind. Bunyan's World of Woe, +if it lacked the colossal architecture and solemn vastness of Milton's +Pandemonium, was more clearly defined; its agonies were within the pale +of human comprehension; its victims were men and women, with the same +keen sense of corporeal suffering which they possessed in life; and who, +to use his own terrible description, had "all the loathed variety of hell +to grapple with; fire unquenchable, a lake of choking brimstone, eternal +chains, darkness more black than night, the everlasting gnawing of the +worm, the sight of devils, and the yells and outcries of the damned." + +His mind at this period was evidently shaken in some degree from its +balance. He was troubled with strange, wicked thoughts, confused by +doubts and blasphemous suggestions, for which he could only account by +supposing himself possessed of the Devil. He wanted to curse and swear, +and had to clap his hands on his mouth to prevent it. In prayer, he +felt, as he supposed, Satan behind him, pulling his clothes, and telling +him to have done, and break off; suggesting that he had better pray to +him, and calling up before his mind's eye the figures of a bull, a tree, +or some other object, instead of the awful idea of God. + +He notes here, as cause of thankfulness, that, even in this dark and +clouded state, he was enabled to see the "vile and abominable things +fomented by the Quakers," to be errors. Gradually, the shadow wherein he +had so long + + "Walked beneath the day's broad glare, + A darkened man," + +passed from him, and for a season he was afforded an "evidence of his +salvation from Heaven, with many golden seals thereon hanging in his +sight." But, ere long, other temptations assailed him. A strange +suggestion haunted him, to sell or part with his Saviour. His own +account of this hallucination is too painfully vivid to awaken any other +feeling than that of sympathy and sadness. + +"I could neither eat my food, stoop for a pin, chop a stick, or cast mine +eye to look on this or that, but still the temptation would come, Sell +Christ for this, or sell Christ for that; sell him, sell him. + +"Sometimes it would run in my thoughts, not so little as a hundred times +together, Sell him, sell him; against which, I may say, for whole hours +together, I have been forced to stand as continually leaning and forcing +my spirit against it, lest haply, before I were aware, some wicked +thought might arise in my heart, that might consent thereto; and +sometimes the tempter would make me believe I had consented to it; but +then I should be as tortured upon a rack, for whole days together. + +"This temptation did put me to such scares, lest I should at sometimes, I +say, consent thereto, and be overcome therewith, that, by the very force +of my mind, my very body would be put into action or motion, by way of +pushing or thrusting with my hands or elbows; still answering, as fast as +the destroyer said, Sell him, I will not, I will not, I will not; no, not +for thousands, thousands, thousands of worlds; thus reckoning, lest I +should set too low a value on him, even until I scarce well knew where I +was, or how to be composed again. + +"But to be brief: one morning, as I did lie in my bed, I was, as at other +times, most fiercely assaulted with this temptation, to sell and part +with Christ; the wicked suggestion still running in my mind, Sell him, +sell him, sell him, sell him, sell him, as fast as a man could speak; +against which, also, in my mind, as at other times, I answered, No, no, +not for thousands, thousands, thousands, at least twenty times together; +but at last, after much striving, I felt this thought pass through my +heart, Let him go if he will; and I thought also, that I felt my heart +freely consent thereto. Oh, the diligence of Satan! Oh, the +desperateness of man's heart! + +"Now was the battle won, and down fell I, as a bird that is shot from the +top of a tree, into great guilt, and fearful despair. Thus getting out +of my bed, I went moping into the field; but God knows with as heavy a +heart as mortal man, I think, could bear; where, for the space of two +hours, I was like a man bereft of life; and, as now, past all recovery, +and bound over to eternal punishment. + +"And withal, that Scripture did seize upon my soul: 'Or profane person, +as Esau, who, for one morsel of meat, sold his birthright; for ye know, +how that afterward, when he would have inherited the blessing, he was +rejected; for he found no place for repentance, though he sought it +carefully with tears." + +For two years and a half, as he informs us, that awful scripture sounded +in his ears like the knell of a lost soul. He believed that he had +committed they unpardonable sin. His mental anguish 'was united with +bodily illness and suffering. His nervous system became fearfully +deranged; his limbs trembled; and he supposed this visible tremulousness +and agitation to be the mark of Cain. 'Troubled with pain and +distressing sensations in his chest, he began to fear that his breast- +bone would split open, and that he should perish like Judas Iscariot. He +feared that the tiles of the houses would fall upon him as he walked in +the streets. He was like his own Man in the Cage at the House of the +Interpreter, shut out from the promises, and looking forward to certain +judgment. "Methought," he says, "the very sun that shineth in heaven did +grudge to give me light." And still the dreadful words, "He found no +place for repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears," sounded +in the depths of his soul. They were, he says, like fetters of brass to +his legs, and their continual clanking followed him for months. +Regarding himself elected and predestined for damnation, he thought that +all things worked for his damage and eternal overthrow, while all things +wrought for the best and to do good to the elect and called of God unto +salvation. God and all His universe had, he thought, conspired against +him; the green earth, the bright waters, the sky itself, were written +over with His irrevocable curse. + +Well was it said by Bunyan's contemporary, the excellent Cudworth, in his +eloquent sermon before the Long Parliament, that "We are nowhere +commanded to pry into the secrets of God, but the wholesome advice given +us is this: 'To make our calling and election sure.' We have no warrant +from Scripture to peep into the hidden rolls of eternity, to spell out +our names among the stars." "Must we say that God sometimes, to exercise +His uncontrollable dominion, delights rather in plunging wretched souls +down into infernal night and everlasting darkness? What, then, shall we +make the God of the whole world? Nothing but a cruel and dreadful +_Erinnys_, with curled fiery snakes about His head, and firebrands in His +hand; thus governing the world! Surely, this will make us either +secretly think there is no God in the world, if He must needs be such, or +else to wish heartily there were none." It was thus at times with +Bunyan. He was tempted, in this season of despair, to believe that there +was no resurrection and no judgment. + +One day, he tells us, a sudden rushing sound, as of wind or the wings of +angels, came to him through the window, wonderfully sweet and pleasant; +and it was as if a voice spoke to him from heaven words of encouragement +and hope, which, to use his language, commanded, for the time, "a silence +in his heart to all those tumultuous thoughts that did use, like +masterless hell-hounds, to roar and bellow and make a hideous noise +within him." About this time, also, some comforting passages of +Scripture were called to mind; but he remarks, that whenever he strove to +apply them to his case, Satan would thrust the curse of Esau in his face, +and wrest the good word from him. The blessed promise "Him that cometh +to me, I will in no wise cast out" was the chief instrumentality in +restoring his lost peace. He says of it: "If ever Satan and I did strive +for any word of God in all my life, it was for this good word of Christ; +he at one end, and I at the other. Oh, what work we made! It was for +this in John, I say, that we did so tug and strive; he pulled, and I +pulled, but, God be praised! I overcame him; I got sweetness from it. +Oh, many a pull hath my heart had with Satan for this blessed sixth +chapter of John!" Who does not here call to mind the struggle between +Christian and Apollyon in the valley! + +That was no fancy sketch; it was the narrative of the author's own +grapple with the Spirit of Evil. Like his ideal Christian, he "conquered +through Him that loved him." Love wrought the victory the Scripture of +Forgiveness overcame that of Hatred. + +He never afterwards relapsed into that state of religious melancholy from +which he so hardly escaped. He speaks of his deliverance as the waking +out of a troublesome dream. His painful experience was not lost upon +him; for it gave him, ever after, a tender sympathy for the weak, the +sinful, the ignorant, and desponding. In some measure, he had been +"touched with the feeling of their infirmities." He could feel for those +in the bonds of sin and despair, as bound with them. Hence his power as +a preacher; hence the wonderful adaptation of his great allegory to all +the variety of spiritual conditions. Like Fearing, he had lain a month +in the Slough of Despond, and had played, like him, the long melancholy +bass of spiritual heaviness. With Feeble-mind, he had fallen into the +hands of Slay-good, of the nature of Man-eaters: and had limped along his +difficult way upon the crutches of Ready-to-halt. Who better than +himself could describe the condition of Despondency, and his daughter +Much-afraid, in the dungeon of Doubting Castle? Had he not also fallen +among thieves, like Little-faith? + +His account of his entering upon the solemn duties of a preacher of the +Gospel is at once curious and instructive. He deals honestly with +himself, exposing all his various moods, weaknesses, doubts, and +temptations. "I preached," he says, "what I felt; for the terrors of the +law and the guilt of transgression lay heavy on my conscience. I have +been as one sent to them from the dead. I went, myself in chains, to +preach to them in chains; and carried that fire in my conscience which I +persuaded them to beware of." At times, when he stood up to preach, +blasphemies and evil doubts rushed into his mind, and he felt a strong +desire to utter them aloud to his congregation; and at other seasons, +when he was about to apply to the sinner some searching and fearful text +of Scripture, he was tempted to withhold it, on the ground that it +condemned himself also; but, withstanding the suggestion of the Tempter, +to use his own simile, he bowed himself like Samson to condemn sin +wherever he found it, though he brought guilt and condemnation upon +himself thereby, choosing rather to die with the Philistines than to deny +the truth. + +Foreseeing the consequences of exposing himself to the operation of the +penal laws by holding conventicles and preaching, he was deeply afflicted +at the thought of the suffering and destitution to which his wife and +children might be exposed by his death or imprisonment. Nothing can be +more touching than his simple and earnest words on this point. They show +how warm and deep were him human affections, and what a tender and loving +heart he laid as a sacrifice on the altar of duty. + +"I found myself a man compassed with infirmities; the parting with my +wife and poor children hath often been to me in this place as the pulling +the flesh from the bones; and also it brought to my mind the many +hardships, miseries, and wants, that my poor family was like to meet +with, should I be taken from them, especially my poor blind child, who +lay nearer my heart than all beside. Oh, the thoughts of the hardships I +thought my poor blind one might go under would break my heart to pieces. + +"Poor child! thought I, what sorrow art thou like to have for thy portion +in this world! thou must be beaten, must beg, suffer hunger, cold, +nakedness, and a thousand calamities, though I cannot now endure the wind +should blow upon thee. But yet, thought I, I must venture you all with +God, though it goeth to the quick to leave you: oh! I saw I was as a man +who was pulling down his house upon the heads of his wife and children; +yet I thought on those 'two milch kine that were to carry the ark of God +into another country, and to leave their calves behind them.' + +"But that which helped me in this temptation was divers considerations: +the first was, the consideration of those two Scriptures, 'Leave thy +fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust +in me;' and again, 'The Lord said, verily it shall go well with thy +remnant; verily I will cause the enemy to entreat them well in the time +of evil.'" + +He was arrested in 1660, charged with "devilishly and perniciously +abstaining from church," and of being "a common upholder of +conventicles." At the Quarter Sessions, where his trial seems to have +been conducted somewhat like that of Faithful at Vanity Fair, he was +sentenced to perpetual banishment. This sentence, however, was never +executed, but he was remanded to Bedford jail, where he lay a prisoner +for twelve years. + +Here, shut out from the world, with no other books than the Bible and +Fox's Martyrs, he penned that great work which has attained a wider and +more stable popularity than any other book in the English tongue. It is +alike the favorite of the nursery and the study. Many experienced +Christians hold it only second to the Bible; the infidel himself would +not willingly let it die. Men of all sects read it with delight, as in +the main a truthful representation of the 'Christian pilgrimage, without +indeed assenting to all the doctrines which the author puts in the month +of his fighting sermonizer, Great-heart, or which may be deduced from +some other portions of his allegory. A recollection of his fearful +sufferings, from misapprehension of a single text in the Scriptures, +relative to the question of election, we may suppose gave a milder tone +to the theology of his Pilgrim than was altogether consistent with the +Calvinism of the seventeenth century. "Religion," says Macaulay, "has +scarcely ever worn a form so calm and soothing as in Bunyan's allegory." +In composing it, he seems never to have altogether lost sight of the +fact, that, in his life-and-death struggle with Satan for the blessed +promise recorded by the Apostle of Love, the adversary was generally +found on the Genevan side of the argument. Little did the short-sighted +persecutors of Bunyan dream, when they closed upon him the door of +Bedford jail, that God would overrule their poor spite and envy to His +own glory and the worldwide renown of their victim. In the solitude of +his prison, the ideal forms of beauty and sublimity, which had long +flitted before him vaguely, like the vision of the Temanite, took shape +and coloring; and he was endowed with power to reduce them to order, and +arrange them in harmonious groupings. His powerful imagination, no +longer self-tormenting, but under the direction of reason and grace, +expanded his narrow cell into a vast theatre, lighted up for the display +of its wonders. To this creative faculty of his mind might have been +aptly applied the language which George Wither, a contemporary prisoner, +addressed to his Muse:-- + + "The dull loneness, the black shade + Which these hanging vaults have made, + The rude portals that give light + More to terror than delight; + This my chamber of neglect, + Walled about with disrespect,-- + From all these, and this dull air, + A fit object for despair, + She hath taught me by her might, + To draw comfort and delight." + +That stony cell of his was to him like the rock of Padan-aram to the +wandering Patriarch. He saw angels ascending and descending. The House +Beautiful rose up before him, and its holy sisterhood welcomed him. He +looked, with his Pilgrim, from the Chamber of Peace. The Valley of +Humiliation lay stretched out beneath his eye, and he heard "the curious, +melodious note of the country birds, who sing all the day long in the +spring time, when the flowers appear, and the sun shines warm, and make +the woods and groves and solitary places glad." Side by side with the +good Christiana and the loving Mercy, he walked through the green and +lowly valley, "fruitful as any the crow flies over," through "meadows +beautiful with lilies;" the song of the poor but fresh-faced shepherd- +boy, who lived a merry life, and wore the herb heartsease in his bosom, +sounded through his cell:-- + + "He that is down need fear no fall; + He that is low no pride." + +The broad and pleasant "river of the Water of Life" glided peacefully +before him, fringed "on either side with green trees, with all manner of +fruit," and leaves of healing, with "meadows beautified with lilies, and +green all the year long;" he saw the Delectable Mountains, glorious with +sunshine, overhung with gardens and orchards and vineyards; and beyond +all, the Land of Beulah, with its eternal sunshine, its song of birds, +its music of fountains, its purple clustered vines, and groves through +which walked the Shining Ones, silver-winged and beautiful. + +What were bars and bolts and prison-walls to him, whose eyes were +anointed to see, and whose ears opened to hear, the glory and the +rejoicing of the City of God, when the pilgrims were conducted to its +golden gates, from the black and bitter river, with the sounding +trumpeters, the transfigured harpers with their crowns of gold, the sweet +voices of angels, the welcoming peal of bells in the holy city, and the +songs of the redeemed ones? In reading the concluding pages of the first +part of Pilgrim's Progress, we feel as if the mysterious glory of the +Beatific Vision was unveiled before us. We are dazzled with the excess +of light. We are entranced with the mighty melody; overwhelmed by the +great anthem of rejoicing spirits. It can only be adequately described +in the language of Milton in respect to the Apocalypse, as "a seven-fold +chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies." + +Few who read Bunyan nowadays think of him as one of the brave old English +confessors, whose steady and firm endurance of persecution baffled and in +the end overcame the tyranny of the Established Church in the reign of +Charles II. What Milton and Penn and Locke wrote in defence of Liberty, +Bunyan lived out and acted. He made no concessions to worldly rank. +Dissolute lords and proud bishops he counted less than the humblest and +poorest of his disciples at Bedford. When first arrested and thrown into +prison, he supposed he should be called to suffer death for his faithful +testimony to the truth; and his great fear was, that he should not meet +his fate with the requisite firmness, and so dishonor the cause of his +Master. And when dark clouds came over him, and he sought in vain for a +sufficient evidence that in the event of his death it would be well with +him, he girded up his soul with the reflection, that, as he suffered for +the word and way of God, he was engaged not to shrink one hair's breadth +from it. "I will leap," he says, "off the ladder blindfold into +eternity, sink or swim, come heaven, come hell. Lord Jesus, if thou wilt +catch me, do; if not, I will venture in thy name!" + +The English revolution of the seventeenth century, while it humbled the +false and oppressive aristocracy of rank and title, was prodigal in the +development of the real nobility of the mind and heart. Its history is +bright with the footprints of men whose very names still stir the hearts +of freemen, the world over, like a trumpet peal. Say what we may of its +fanaticism, laugh as we may at its extravagant enjoyment of newly +acquired religious and civil liberty, who shall now venture to deny that +it was the golden age of England? Who that regards freedom above +slavery, will now sympathize with the outcry and lamentation of those +interested in the continuance of the old order of things, against the +prevalence of sects and schism, but who, at the same time, as Milton +shrewdly intimates, dreaded more the rending of their pontifical sleeves +than the rending of the Church? Who shall now sneer at Puritanism, with +the Defence of Unlicensed Printing before him? Who scoff at Quakerism +over the Journal of George Fox? Who shall join with debauched lordlings +and fat-witted prelates in ridicule of Anabaptist levellers and dippers, +after rising from the perusal of Pilgrim's Progress? "There were giants +in those days." And foremost amidst that band of liberty-loving and God- +fearing men, + + "The slandered Calvinists of Charles's time, + Who fought, and won it, Freedom's holy fight," + +stands the subject of our sketch, the Tinker of Elstow. Of his high +merit as an author there is no longer any question. The Edinburgh Review +expressed the common sentiment of the literary world, when it declared +that the two great creative minds of the seventeenth century were those +which produced Paradise Lost and the Pilgrim's Progress. + + + + +THOMAS ELLWOOD. + +Commend us to autobiographies! Give us the veritable notchings of +Robinson Crusoe on his stick, the indubitable records of a life long +since swallowed up in the blackness of darkness, traced by a hand the +very dust of which has become undistinguishable. The foolishest egotist +who ever chronicled his daily experiences, his hopes and fears, poor +plans and vain reachings after happiness, speaking to us out of the Past, +and thereby giving us to understand that it was quite as real as our +Present, is in no mean sort our benefactor, and commands our attention, +in spite of his folly. We are thankful for the very vanity which +prompted him to bottle up his poor records, and cast them into the great +sea of Time, for future voyagers to pick up. We note, with the deepest +interest, that in him too was enacted that miracle of a conscious +existence, the reproduction of which in ourselves awes and perplexes us. +He, too, had a mother; he hated and loved; the light from old-quenched +hearths shone over him; he walked in the sunshine over the dust of those +who had gone before him, just as we are now walking over his. These +records of him remain, the footmarks of a long-extinct life, not of mere +animal organism, but of a being like ourselves, enabling us, by studying +their hieroglyphic significance, to decipher and see clearly into the +mystery of existence centuries ago. The dead generations live again in +these old self-biographies. Incidentally, unintentionally, yet in the +simplest and most natural manner, they make us familiar with all the +phenomena of life in the bygone ages. We are brought in contact with +actual flesh-and-blood men and women, not the ghostly outline figures +which pass for such, in what is called History. The horn lantern of the +biographer, by the aid of which, with painful minuteness, he chronicled, +from day to day, his own outgoings and incomings, making visible to us +his pitiful wants, labors, trials, and tribulations of the stomach and of +the conscience, sheds, at times, a strong clear light upon +contemporaneous activities; what seemed before half fabulous, rises up in +distinct and full proportions; we look at statesmen, philosophers, and +poets, with the eyes of those who lived perchance their next-door +neighbors, and sold them beer, and mutton, and household stuffs, had +access to their kitchens, and took note of the fashion of their wigs and +the color of their breeches. Without some such light, all history would +be just about as unintelligible and unreal as a dimly remembered dream. + +The journals of the early Friends or Quakers are in this respect +invaluable. Little, it is true, can be said, as a general thing, of +their literary merits. Their authors were plain, earnest men and women, +chiefly intent upon the substance of things, and having withal a strong +testimony to bear against carnal wit and outside show and ornament. Yet, +even the scholar may well admire the power of certain portions of George +Fox's Journal, where a strong spirit clothes its utterance in simple, +downright Saxon words; the quiet and beautiful enthusiasm of Pennington; +the torrent energy of Edward Burrough; the serene wisdom of Penn; the +logical acuteness of Barclay; the honest truthfulness of Sewell; the wit +and humor of John Roberts, (for even Quakerism had its apostolic jokers +and drab-coated Robert Halls;) and last, not least, the simple beauty of +Woolman's Journal, the modest record of a life of good works and love. + +Let us look at the Life of Thomas Ellwood. The book before us is a +hardly used Philadelphia reprint, bearing date of 1775. The original was +published some sixty years before. It is not a book to be found in +fashionable libraries, or noticed in fashionable reviews, but is none the +less deserving of attention. + +Ellwood was born in 1639, in the little town of Crowell, in Oxfordshire. +Old Walter, his father, was of "gentlemanly lineage," and held a +commission of the peace under Charles I. One of his most intimate +friends was Isaac Pennington, a gentleman of estate and good reputation, +whose wife, the widow of Sir John Springette, was a lady of superior +endowments. Her only daughter, Gulielma, was the playmate and companion +of Thomas. On making this family a visit, in 1658, in company with his +father, he was surprised to find that they had united with the Quakers, a +sect then little known, and everywhere spoken against. Passing through +the vista of nearly two centuries, let us cross the threshold, and look +with the eyes of young Ellwood upon this Quaker family. It will +doubtless give us a good idea of the earnest and solemn spirit of that +age of religious awakening. + +"So great a change from a free, debonair, and courtly sort of behavior, +which we had formerly found there, into so strict a gravity as they now +received us with, did not a little amuse us, and disappointed our +expectations of such a pleasant visit as we had promised ourselves. + +"For my part, I sought, and at length found, means to cast myself into +the company of the daughter, whom I found gathering flowers in the +garden, attended by her maid, also a Quaker. But when I addressed her +after my accustomed manner, with intention to engage her in discourse on +the foot of our former acquaintance, though she treated me with a +courteous mien, yet, as young as she was, the gravity of her looks and +behavior struck such an awe upon me, that I found myself not so much +master of myself as to pursue any further converse with her. + +"We staid dinner, which was very handsome, and lacked nothing to +recommend it to me but the want of mirth and pleasant discourse, which we +could neither have with them, nor, by reason of them, with one another; +the weightiness which was upon their spirits and countenances keeping +down the lightness that would have been up in ours." + +Not long after, they made a second visit to their sober friends, spending +several days, during which they attended a meeting, in a neighboring +farmhouse, where we are introduced by Ellwood to two remarkable +personages, Edward Burrough, the friend and fearless reprover of +Cromwell, and by far the most eloquent preacher of his sect and James +Nayler, whose melancholy after-history of fanaticism, cruel sufferings, +and beautiful repentance, is so well known to the readers of English +history under the Protectorate. Under the preaching of these men, and +the influence of the Pennington family, young Ellwood was brought into +fellowship with the Quakers. Of the old Justice's sorrow and indignation +at this sudden blasting of his hopes and wishes in respect to his son, +and of the trials and difficulties of the latter in his new vocation, it +is now scarcely worth while to speak. Let us step forward a few years, +to 1662, considering meantime how matters, political and spiritual, are +changed in that brief period. Cromwell, the Maccabeus of Puritanism, is +no longer among men; Charles the Second sits in his place; profane and +licentious cavaliers have thrust aside the sleek-haired, painful-faced +Independents, who used to groan approval to the Scriptural illustrations +of Harrison and Fleetwood; men easy of virtue, without sincerity, either +in religion or politics, occupying the places made honorable by the +Miltons, Whitlocks, and Vanes of the Commonwealth. Having this change in +view, the light which the farthing candle of Ellwood sheds upon one of +these illustrious names will not be unwelcome. In his intercourse with +Penn, and other learned Quakers, he had reason to lament his own +deficiencies in scholarship, and his friend Pennington undertook to put +him in a way of remedying the defect. + +"He had," says Ellwood, "an intimate acquaintance with Dr. Paget, a +physician of note in London, and he with John Milton, a gentleman of +great note for learning throughout the learned world, for the accurate +pieces he had written on various subjects and occasions. + +"This person, having filled a public station in the former times, lived a +private and retired life in London, and, having lost his sight, kept +always a man to read for him, which usually was the son of some gentleman +of his acquaintance, whom, in kindness, he took to improve in his +learning. + +"Thus, by the mediation of my friend Isaac Pennington with Dr. Paget, and +through him with John Milton, was I admitted to come to him, not as a +servant to him, nor to be in the house with him, but only to have the +liberty of coming to his house at certain hours when I would, and read to +him what books he should appoint, which was all the favor I desired. + +"He received me courteously, as well for the sake of Dr. Paget, who +introduced me, as of Isaac Pennington, who recommended me, to both of +whom he bore a good respect. And, having inquired divers things of me, +with respect to my former progression in learning, he dismissed me, to +provide myself with such accommodations as might be most suitable to my +studies. + +"I went, therefore, and took lodgings as near to his house (which was +then in Jewen Street) as I conveniently could, and from thenceforward +went every day in the afternoon, except on the first day of the week, +and, sitting by him in his dining-room, read to him such books in the +Latin tongue as he pleased to have me read. + +"He perceiving with what earnest desire I had pursued learning, gave me +not only all the encouragement, but all the help he could. For, having a +curious ear, he understood by my tone when I understood what I read and +when I did not, and accordingly would stop me, examine me, and open the +most difficult passages to me." + +Thanks, worthy Thomas, for this glimpse into John Milton's dining-room! + +He had been with "Master Milton," as he calls him, only a few weeks, +when, being one "first day morning," at the Bull and Mouth meeting, +Aldersgate, the train-bands of the city, "with great noise and clamor," +headed by Major Rosewell, fell upon him and his friends. The immediate +cause of this onslaught upon quiet worshippers was the famous plot of the +Fifth Monarchy men, grim old fanatics, who (like the Millerites of the +present day) had been waiting long for the personal reign of Christ and +the saints upon earth, and in their zeal to hasten such a consummation +had sallied into London streets with drawn swords and loaded matchlocks. +The government took strong measures for suppressing dissenters' meetings +or "conventicles;" and the poor Quakers, although not at all implicated +in the disturbance, suffered more severely than any others. Let us look +at the "freedom of conscience and worship" in England under that +irreverent Defender of the Faith, Charles II. Ellwood says: "He that +commanded the party gave us first a general charge to come out of the +room. But we, who came thither at God's requiring to worship Him, (like +that good man of old, who said, we ought to obey God rather than man,) +stirred not, but kept our places. Whereupon, he sent some of his +soldiers among us, with command to drag or drive us out, which they did +roughly enough." Think of it: grave men and women, and modest maidens, +sitting there with calm, impassive countenances, motionless as death, the +pikes of the soldiery closing about them in a circle of bristling steel! +Brave and true ones! Not in vain did ye thus oppose God's silence to the +Devil's uproar; Christian endurance and calm persistence in the exercise +of your rights as Englishmen and men to the hot fury of impatient +tyranny! From your day down to this, the world has been the better for +your faithfulness. + +Ellwood and some thirty of his friends were marched off to prison in Old +Bridewell, which, as well as nearly all the other prisons, was already +crowded with Quaker prisoners. One of the rooms of the prison was used +as a torture chamber. "I was almost affrighted," says Ellwood, "by the +dismalness of the place; for, besides that the walls were all laid over +with black, from top to bottom, there stood in the middle a great +whipping-post. + +"The manner of whipping there is, to strip the party to the skin, from +the waist upward, and, having fastened him to the whipping-post, (so that +he can neither resist nor shun the strokes,) to lash his naked body with +long, slender twigs of holly, which will bend almost like thongs around +the body; and these, having little knots upon them, tear the skin and +flesh, and give extreme pain." + +To this terrible punishment aged men and delicately nurtured young +females were often subjected, during this season of hot persecution. + +From the Bridewell, Ellwood was at length removed to Newgate, and thrust +in, with other "Friends," amidst the common felons. He speaks of this +prison, with its thieves, murderers, and prostitutes, its over-crowded +apartments and loathsome cells, as "a hell upon earth." In a closet, +adjoining the room where he was lodged, lay for several days the +quartered bodies of Phillips, Tongue, and Gibbs, the leaders of the Fifth +Monarchy rising, frightful and loathsome, as they came from the bloody +hands of the executioners! These ghastly remains were at length obtained +by the friends of the dead, and buried. The heads were ordered to be +prepared for setting up in different parts of the city. Read this grim +passage of description:-- + +"I saw the heads when they were brought to be boiled. The hangman +fetched them in a dirty basket, out of some by-place, and, setting them +down among the felons, he and they made sport of them. They took them by +the hair, flouting, jeering, and laughing at them; and then giving them +some ill names, boxed them on their ears and cheeks; which done, the +hangman put them into his kettle, and parboiled them with bay-salt and +cummin-seed: that to keep them from putrefaction, and this to keep off +the fowls from seizing upon them. The whole sight, as well that of the +bloody quarters first as this of the heads afterwards, was both frightful +and loathsome, and begat an abhorrence in my nature." + +At the next session of the municipal court at the Old Bailey, Ellwood +obtained his discharge. After paying a visit to "my Master Milton," he +made his way to Chalfont, the home of his friends the Penningtons, where +he was soon after engaged as a Latin teacher. Here he seems to have had +his trials and temptations. Gulielma Springette, the daughter of +Pennington's wife, his old playmate, had now grown to be "a fair woman of +marriageable age," and, as he informs us, "very desirable, whether regard +was had to her outward person, which wanted nothing to make her +completely comely, or to the endowments of her mind, which were every way +extraordinary, or to her outward fortune, which was fair." From all +which, we are not surprised to learn that "she was secretly and openly +sought for by many of almost every rank and condition." "To whom," +continues Thomas, "in their respective turns, (till he at length came for +whom she was reserved,) she carried herself with so much evenness of +temper, such courteous freedom, guarded by the strictest modesty, that as +it gave encouragement or ground of hope to none, so neither did it +administer any matter of offence or just cause of complaint to any." + +Beautiful and noble maiden! How the imagination fills up this outline +limning by her friend, and, if truth must be told, admirer! Serene, +courteous, healthful; a ray of tenderest and blandest light, shining +steadily in the sober gloom of that old household! Confirmed Quaker as +she is, shrinking from none of the responsibilities and dangers of her +profession, and therefore liable at any time to the penalties of prison +and whipping-post, under that plain garb and in spite of that "certain +gravity of look and behavior,"--which, as we have seen, on one occasion +awed young Ellwood into silence,--youth, beauty, and refinement assert +their prerogatives; love knows no creed; the gay, and titled, and wealthy +crowd around her, suing in vain for her favor. + + "Followed, like the tided moon, + She moves as calmly on," + +"until he at length comes for whom she was reserved," and her name is +united with that of one worthy even of her, the world-renowned William +Penn. + +Meantime, one cannot but feel a good degree of sympathy with young +Ellwood, her old schoolmate and playmate, placed, as he was, in the same +family with her, enjoying her familiar conversation and unreserved +confidence, and, as he says, the "advantageous opportunities of riding +and walking abroad with her, by night as well as by day, without any +other company than her maid; for so great, indeed, was the confidence +that her mother had in me, that she thought her daughter safe, if I was +with her, even from the plots and designs of others upon her." So near, +and yet, alas! in truth, so distant! The serene and gentle light which +shone upon him, in the sweet solitudes of Chalfont, was that of a star, +itself unapproachable. + +As he himself meekly intimates, she was reserved for another. He seems +to have fully understood his own position in respect to her; although, to +use his own words, "others, measuring him by the propensity of their own +inclinations, concluded he would steal her, run away with her, and marry +her." Little did these jealous surmisers know of the true and really +heroic spirit of the young Latin master. His own apology and defence of +his conduct, under circumstances of temptation which St. Anthony himself +could have scarcely better resisted, will not be amiss. + +"I was not ignorant of the various fears which filled the jealous heads +of some concerning me, neither was I so stupid nor so divested of all +humanity as not to be sensible of the real and innate worth and virtue +which adorned that excellent dame, and attracted the eyes and hearts of +so many, with the greatest importunity, to seek and solicit her; nor was +I so devoid of natural heat as not to feel some sparklings of desire, as +well as others; but the force of truth and sense of honor suppressed +whatever would have risen beyond the bounds of fair and virtuous +friendship. For I easily foresaw that, if I should have attempted any +thing in a dishonorable way, by fraud or force, upon her, I should have +thereby brought a wound upon mine own soul, a foul scandal upon my +religious profession, and an infamous stain upon mine honor, which was +far more dear unto me than my life. Wherefore, having observed how some +others had befooled themselves, by misconstruing her common kindness +(expressed in an innocent, open, free, and familiar conversation, +springing from the abundant affability, courtesy, and sweetness of her +natural temper) to be the effect of a singular regard and peculiar +affection to them, I resolved to shun the rock whereon they split; and, +remembering the saying of the poet + + 'Felix quem faciunt aliena Pericula cantum,' + +I governed myself in a free yet respectful carriage towards her, thereby +preserving a fair reputation with my friends, and enjoying as much of her +favor and kindness, in a virtuous and firm friendship, as was fit for her +to show or for me to seek." + +Well and worthily said, poor Thomas! Whatever might be said of others, +thou, at least, wast no coxcomb. Thy distant and involuntary admiration +of "the fair Guli" needs, however, no excuse. Poor human nature, guard +it as one may, with strictest discipline and painfully cramping +environment, will sometimes act out itself; and, in thy case, not even +George Fox himself, knowing thy beautiful young friend, (and doubtless +admiring her too, for he was one of the first to appreciate and honor the +worth and dignity or woman,) could have found it in his heart to censure +thee! + +At this period, as was indeed most natural, our young teacher solaced +himself with occasional appeals to what he calls "the Muses." There is +reason to believe, however, that the Pagan sisterhood whom he ventured to +invoke seldom graced his study with their personal attendance. In these +rhyming efforts, scattered up and down his Journal, there are occasional +sparkles of genuine wit, and passages of keen sarcasm, tersely and fitly +expressed. Others breathe a warm, devotional feeling; in the following +brief prayer, for instance, the wants of the humble Christian are +condensed in a manner worthy of Quarles or Herbert:-- + + "Oh! that mine eye might closed be + To what concerns me not to see; + That deafness might possess mine ear + To what concerns me not to hear; + That Truth my tongue might always tie + From ever speaking foolishly; + That no vain thought might ever rest + Or be conceived in my breast; + That by each word and deed and thought + Glory may to my God be brought! + But what are wishes? Lord, mine eye + On Thee is fixed, to Thee I cry + Wash, Lord, and purify my heart, + And make it clean in every part; + And when 't is clean, Lord, keep it too, + For that is more than I can do." + +The thought in the following extracts from a poem written on the death of +his friend Pennington's son is trite, but not inaptly or inelegantly +expressed:-- + + "What ground, alas, has any man + To set his heart on things below, + Which, when they seem most like to stand, + Fly like the arrow from the bow! + Who's now atop erelong shall feel + The circling motion of the wheel! + + "The world cannot afford a thing + Which to a well-composed mind + Can any lasting pleasure bring, + But in itself its grave will find. + All things unto their centre tend + What had beginning must have end! + + "No disappointment can befall + Us, having Him who's all in all! + What can of pleasure him prevent + Who lath the Fountain of Content?" + +In the year 1663 a severe law was enacted against the "sect called +Quakers," prohibiting their meetings, with the penalty of banishment for +the third offence! The burden of the prosecution which followed fell +upon the Quakers of the metropolis, large numbers of whom were heavily +fined, imprisoned, and sentenced to be banished from their native land. +Yet, in time, our worthy friend Ellwood came in for his own share of +trouble, in consequence of attending the funeral of one of his friends. +An evil-disposed justice of the county obtained information of the Quaker +gathering; and, while the body of the dead was "borne on Friends' +shoulders through the street, in order to be carried to the burying- +ground, which was at the town's end," says Ellwood, "he rushed out upon +us with the constables and a rabble of rude fellows whom he had gathered +together, and, having his drawn sword in his hand, struck one of the +foremost of the bearers with it, commanding them to set down the coffin. +But the Friend who was so stricken, being more concerned for the safety +of the dead body than for his own, lest it should fall, and any indecency +thereupon follow, held the coffin fast; which the justice observing, and +being enraged that his word was not forthwith obeyed, set his hand to the +coffin, and with a forcible thrust threw it off from the bearers' +shoulders, so, that it fell to the ground in the middle of the street, +and there we were forced to leave it; for the constables and rabble fell +upon us, and drew some and drove others into the inn. Of those thus +taken," continues Ellwood, "I was one. They picked out ten of us, and +sent us to Aylesbury jail. + +"They caused the body to lie in the open street and cartway, so that all +travellers that passed, whether horsemen, coaches, carts, or wagons, were +fain to break out of the way to go by it, until it was almost night. And +then, having caused a grave to be made in the unconsecrated part of what +is called the Churchyard, they forcibly took the body from the widow, and +buried it there." + +He remained a prisoner only about two months, during which period he +comforted himself by such verse-making as follows, reminding us of +similar enigmas in Bunyan's _Pilgrim's Progress_: + + "Lo! a Riddle for the wise, + In the which a Mystery lies. + + RIDDLE. + "Some men are free whilst they in prison lie; + Others who ne'er saw prison captives die. + + CAUTION. + "He that can receive it may, + He that cannot, let him stay, + Not be hasty, but suspend + Judgment till he sees the end. + + SOLUTION. + "He's only free, indeed, who's free from sin, + And he is fastest bound that's bound therein." + + +In the mean time, where is our "Master Milton"? We, left him deprived of +his young companion and reader, sitting lonely in his small dining-room, +in Jewen Street. It is now the year 1665; is not the pestilence in +London? A sinful and godless city, with its bloated bishops fawning +around the Nell Gwyns of a licentious and profane Defender of the Faith; +its swaggering and drunken cavaliers; its ribald jesters; its obscene +ballad-singers; its loathsome prisons, crowded with Godfearing men and +women: is not the measure of its iniquity already filled up? Three years +only have passed since the terrible prayer of Vane went upward from the +scaffold on Tower Hill: "When my blood is shed upon the block, let it, O +God, have a voice afterward!" Audible to thy ear, O bosom friend of the +martyr! has that blood cried from earth; and now, how fearfully is it +answered! Like the ashes which the Seer of the Hebrews cast towards +Heaven, it has returned in boils and blains upon the proud and oppressive +city. John Milton, sitting blind in Jewen Street, has heard the toll of +the death-bells, and the nightlong rumble of the burial-carts, and the +terrible summons, "Bring out your dead!" The Angel of the Plague, in +yellow mantle, purple-spotted, walks the streets. Why should he tarry in +a doomed city, forsaken of God! Is not the command, even to him, "Arise +and flee, for thy life"? In some green nook of the quiet country, he may +finish the great work which his hands have found to do. He bethinks him +of his old friends, the Penningtons, and his young Quaker companion, the +patient and gentle Ellwood. "Wherefore," says the latter, "some little +time before I went to Aylesbury jail, I was desired by my quondam Master +Milton to take an house for him in the neighborhood where I dwelt, that +he might go out of the city for the safety of himself and his family, the +pestilence then growing hot in London. I took a pretty box for him in +Giles Chalfont, a mile from me, of which I gave him notice, and intended +to have waited on him and seen him well settled, but was prevented by +that imprisonment. But now being released and returned home, I soon made +a visit to him, to welcome him into the country. After some common +discourse had passed between us, he called for a manuscript of his, +which, having brought, he delivered to me, bidding me take it home with +me and read it at my leisure, and when I had so done return it to him, +with my judgment thereupon." + +Now, what does the reader think young Ellwood carried in his gray coat +pocket across the dikes and hedges and through the green lanes of Giles +Chalfont that autumn day? Let us look farther "When I came home, and had +set myself to read it, I found it was that excellent poem which he +entitled _Paradise Lost_. After I had, with the best attention, read it +through, I made him another visit; and, returning his book with due +acknowledgment of the favor he had done me in communicating it to me, he +asked me how I liked it and what I thought of it, which I modestly but +freely told him; and, after some farther discourse about it, I pleasantly +said to him, 'Thou hast said much here of Paradise Lost; what hast thou +to say of Paradise Found?' He made me no answer, but sat some time in a +muse; then brake off that discourse, and fell upon another subject." + +"I modestly but freely told him what I thought" of Paradise Lost! What +he told him remains a mystery. One would like to know more precisely +what the first critical reader of that song "of Man's first disobedience" +thought of it. Fancy the young Quaker and blind Milton sitting, some +pleasant afternoon of the autumn of that old year, in "the pretty box" at +Chalfont, the soft wind through the open window lifting the thin hair of +the glorious old Poet! Back-slidden England, plague-smitten, and +accursed with her faithless Church and libertine King, knows little of +poor "Master Milton," and takes small note of his Puritanic verse-making. +Alone, with his humble friend, he sits there, conning over that poem +which, he fondly hoped, the world, which had grown all dark and strange +to the author, "would not willingly let die." The suggestion in respect +to Paradise Found, to which, as we have seen, "he made no answer, but sat +some time in a muse," seems not to have been lost; for, "after the +sickness was over," continues Ellwood, "and the city well cleansed, and +become safely habitable again, he returned thither; and when afterwards I +waited on him there, which I seldom failed of doing whenever my occasions +drew me to London, he showed me his second poem, called Paradise Gained; +and, in a pleasant tone, said to me, 'This is owing to you, for you put +it into my head by the question you put to me at Chalfont, which before I +had not thought of.'" + +Golden days were these for the young Latin reader, even if it be true, as +we suspect, that he was himself very far from appreciating the glorious +privilege which he enjoyed, of the familiar friendship and confidence of +Milton. But they could not last. His amiable host, Isaac Pennington, +a blameless and quiet country gentleman, was dragged from his house by a +military force, and lodged in Aylesbury jail; his wife and family +forcibly ejected from their pleasant home, which was seized upon by the +government as security for the fines imposed upon its owner. The plague +was in the village of Aylesbury, and in the very prison itself; but the +noble-hearted Mary Pennington followed her husband, sharing with him the +dark peril. Poor Ellwood, while attending a monthly meeting at Hedgerly, +with six others, (among them one Morgan Watkins, a poor old Welshman, +who, painfully endeavoring to utter his testimony in his own dialect, was +suspected by the Dogberry of a justice of being a Jesuit trolling over +his Latin,) was arrested, and committed to Wiccomb House of Correction. + +This was a time of severe trial for the sect with which Ellwood had +connected himself. In the very midst of the pestilence, when thousands +perished weekly in London, fifty-four Quakers were marched through the +almost deserted streets, and placed on board a ship, for the purpose of +being conveyed, according to their sentence of banishment, to the West +Indies. The ship lay for a long time, with many others similarly +situated, a helpless prey to the pestilence. Through that terrible +autumn, the prisoners sat waiting for the summons of the ghastly +Destroyer; and, from their floating dungeon. + + "Heard the groan + Of agonizing ships from shore to shore; + Heard nightly plunged beneath the sullen wave + The frequent corse." + +When the vessel at length set sail, of the fifty-four who went on board, +twenty-seven only were living. A Dutch privateer captured her, when two +days out, and carried the prisoners to North Holland, where they were set +at liberty. The condition of the jails in the city, where were large +numbers of Quakers, was dreadful in the extreme. Ill ventilated, +crowded, and loathsome with the accumulated filth of centuries, they +invited the disease which daily decimated their cells. "Go on!" says +Pennington, writing to the King and bishops from his plague-infected cell +in the Aylesbury prison: "try it out with the Spirit of the Lord! Come +forth with your laws, and prisons, and spoiling of goods, and banishment, +and death, if the Lord please, and see if ye can carry it! Whom the Lord +loveth He can save at His pleasure. Hath He begun to break our bonds and +deliver us, and shall we now distrust Him? Are we in a worse condition +than Israel was when the sea was before them, the mountains on either +side, and the Egyptians behind, pursuing them?" + +Brave men and faithful! It is not necessary that the present generation, +how quietly reaping the fruit of your heroic endurance, should see eye to +eye with you in respect to all your testimonies and beliefs, in order to +recognize your claim to gratitude and admiration. For, in an age of +hypocritical hollowness and mean self-seeking, when, with noble +exceptions, the very Puritans of Cromwell's Reign of the Saints were +taking profane lessons from their old enemies, and putting on an outside +show of conformity, for the sake of place or pardon, ye maintained the +austere dignity of virtue, and, with King and Church and Parliament +arrayed against you, vindicated the Rights of Conscience, at the cost of +home, fortune, and life. English liberty owes more to your unyielding +firmness than to the blows stricken for her at Worcester and Naseby. + +In 1667, we find the Latin teacher in attendance at a great meeting of +Friends, in London, convened at the suggestion of George Fox, for the +purpose of settling a little difficulty which had arisen among the +Friends, even under the pressure of the severest persecution, relative to +the very important matter of "wearing the hat." George Fox, in his love +of truth and sincerity in word and action, had discountenanced the +fashionable doffing of the hat, and other flattering obeisances towards +men holding stations in Church or State, as savoring of man-worship, +giving to the creature the reverence only due to the Creator, as +undignified and wanting in due self-respect, and tending to support +unnatural and oppressive distinctions among those equal in the sight of +God. But some of his disciples evidently made much more of this "hat +testimony" than their teacher. One John Perrott, who had just returned +from an unsuccessful attempt to convert the Pope, at Rome, (where that +dignitary, after listening to his exhortations, and finding him in no +condition to be benefited by the spiritual physicians of the Inquisition, +had quietly turned him over to the temporal ones of the Insane Hospital,) +had broached the doctrine that, in public or private worship, the hat was +not to be taken off, without an immediate revelation or call to do so! +Ellwood himself seems to have been on the point of yielding to this +notion, which appears to have been the occasion of a good deal of +dissension and scandal. Under these circumstances, to save truth from +reproach, and an important testimony to the essential equality of mankind +from running into sheer fanaticism, Fox summoned his tried and faithful +friends together, from all parts of the United Kingdom, and, as it +appears, with the happiest result. Hat-revelations were discountenanced, +good order and harmony reestablished, and John Perrott's beaver and the +crazy head under it were from thenceforth powerless for evil. Let those +who are disposed to laugh at this notable "Ecumenical Council of the Hat" +consider that ecclesiastical history has brought down to us the records +of many larger and more imposing convocations, wherein grave bishops and +learned fathers took each other by the beard upon matters of far less +practical importance. + +In 1669, we find Ellwood engaged in escorting his fair friend, Gulielma, +to her uncle's residence in Sussex. Passing through London, and taking +the Tunbridge road, they stopped at Seven Oak to dine. The Duke of York +was on the road, with his guards and hangers-on, and the inn was filled +with a rude company. "Hastening," says Ellwood, "from a place where we +found nothing but rudeness, the roysterers who swarmed there, besides the +damning oaths they belched out against each other, looked very sourly +upon us, as if they grudged us the horses which we rode and the clothes +we wore." They had proceeded but a little distance, when they were +overtaken by some half dozen drunken rough-riding cavaliers, of the +Wildrake stamp, in full pursuit after the beautiful Quakeress. One of +them impudently attempted to pull her upon his horse before him, but was +held at bay by Ellwood, who seems, on this occasion, to have relied +somewhat upon his "stick," in defending his fair charge. Calling up +Gulielma's servant, he bade him ride on one side of his mistress, while +he guarded her on the other. "But he," says Ellwood, "not thinking it +perhaps decent to ride so near his mistress, left room enough for another +to ride between." In dashed the drunken retainer, and Gulielma was once +more in peril. It was clearly no time for exhortations and +expostulations; "so," says Ellwood, "I chopped in upon him, by a nimble +turn, and kept him at bay. I told him I had hitherto spared him, but +wished him not to provoke me further. This I spoke in such a tone as +bespoke an high resentment of the abuse put upon us, and withal pressed +him so hard with my horse that I suffered him not to come up again to +Guli." By this time, it became evident to the companions of the +ruffianly assailant that the young Quaker was in earnest, and they +hastened to interfere. "For they," says Ellwood, "seeing the contest +rise so high, and probably fearing it would rise higher, not knowing +where it might stop, came in to part us; which they did by taking him +away." + +Escaping from these sons of Belial, Ellwood and his fair companion rode +on through Tunbridge Wells, "the street thronged with men, who looked +very earnestly at them, but offered them no affront," and arrived, late +at night, in a driving rain, at the mansion-house of Herbert Springette. +The fiery old gentleman was so indignant at the insult offered to his +niece, that he was with difficulty dissuaded from demanding satisfaction +at the hands of the Duke of York. + +This seems to have been his last ride with Gulielma. She was soon after +married to William Penn, and took up her abode at Worminghurst, in +Sussex. How blessed and beautiful was that union may be understood from +the following paragraph of a letter, written by her husband, on the eve +of his departure for America to lay the foundations of a Christian +colony:-- + + "My dear wife! remember thou wast the love of my youth, and much the + joy of my life, the most beloved as well as the most worthy of all + my earthly comforts; and the reason of that love was more thy inward + than thy outward excellences, which yet were many. God knows, and + thou knowest it, I can say it was a match of Providence's making; + and God's image in us both was the first thing and the most amiable + and engaging ornament in our eyes." + +About this time our friend Thomas, seeing that his old playmate at +Chalfont was destined for another, turned his attention towards a "young +Friend, named Mary Ellis." He had been for several years acquainted with +her, but now he "found his heart secretly drawn and inclining towards +her." "At length," he tells us, "as I was sitting all alone, waiting +upon the Lord for counsel and guidance in this, in itself and to me, +important affair, I felt a word sweetly arise in me, as if I had heard a +Voice which said, Go, and prevail! and faith springing in my heart at the +word, I immediately rose and went, nothing doubting." On arriving at her +residence, he states that he "solemnly opened his mind to her, which was +a great surprisal to her, for she had taken in an apprehension, as others +had also done," that his eye had been fixed elsewhere and nearer home. +"I used not many words to her," he continues, "but I felt a Divine Power +went along with the words, and fixed the matter expressed by them so fast +in her breast, that, as she afterwards acknowledged to me, she could not +shut it out." + +"I continued," he says, "my visits to my best-beloved Friend until we +married, which was on the 28th day of the eighth month, 1669. We took +each other in a select meeting of the ancient and grave Friends of that +country. A very solemn meeting it was, and in a weighty frame of spirit +we were." His wife seems to have had some estate; and Ellwood, with that +nice sense of justice which marked all his actions, immediately made his +will, securing to her, in case of his decease, all her own goods and +moneys, as well as all that he had himself acquired before marriage. +"Which," he tells, "was indeed but little, yet, by all that little, more +than I had ever given her ground to expect with me." His father, who was +yet unreconciled to the son's religious views, found fault with his +marriage, on the ground that it was unlawful and unsanctioned by priest +or liturgy, and consequently refused to render him any pecuniary +assistance. Yet, in spite of this and other trials, he seems to have +preserved his serenity of spirit. After an unpleasant interview with his +father, on one occasion, he wrote, at his lodgings in an inn, in London, +what he calls _A Song of Praise_. An extract from it will serve to show +the spirit of the good man in affliction:-- + + "Unto the Glory of Thy Holy Name, + Eternal God! whom I both love and fear, + I hereby do declare, I never came + Before Thy throne, and found Thee loath to hear, + But always ready with an open ear; + And, though sometimes Thou seem'st Thy face to hide, + As one that had withdrawn his love from me, + 'T is that my faith may to the full, be tried, + And that I thereby may the better see + How weak I am when not upheld by Thee!" + +The next year, 1670, an act of Parliament, in relation to "Conventicles," +provided that any person who should be present at any meeting, under +color or pretence of any exercise of religion, in other manner than +according to the liturgy and practice of the Church of England, "should +be liable to fines of from five to ten shillings; and any person +preaching at or giving his house for the meeting, to a fine of twenty +pounds: one third of the fines being received by the informer or +informers." As a natural consequence of such a law, the vilest +scoundrels in the land set up the trade of informers and heresy-hunters. +Wherever a dissenting meeting or burial took place, there was sure to be +a mercenary spy, ready to bring a complaint against all in attendance. +The Independents and Baptists ceased, in a great measure, to hold public +meetings, yet even they did not escape prosecution. Bunyan, for +instance, in these days, was dreaming, like another Jacob, of angels +ascending and descending, in Bedford prison. But upon the poor Quakers +fell, as usual, the great force of the unjust enactment. Some of these +spies or informers, men of sharp wit, close countenances, pliant tempers, +and skill in dissimulation, took the guise of Quakers, Independents, or +Baptists, as occasion required, thrusting themselves into the meetings of +the proscribed sects, ascertaining the number who attended, their rank +and condition, and then informing against them. Ellwood, in his Journal +for 1670, describes several of these emissaries of evil. One of them +came to a Friend's house, in Bucks, professing to be a brother in the +faith, but, overdoing his counterfeit Quakerism, was detected and +dismissed by his host. Betaking himself to the inn, he appeared in his +true character, drank and swore roundly, and confessed over his cups that +he had been sent forth on his mission by the Rev. Dr. Mew, Vice- +Chancellor of Oxford. Finding little success in counterfeiting +Quakerism, he turned to the Baptists, where, for a time, he met with +better success. Ellwood, at this time, rendered good service to his +friends, by exposing the true character of these wretches, and bringing +them to justice for theft, perjury, and other misdemeanors. + +While this storm of persecution lasted, (a period of two or three years,) +the different dissenting sects felt, in some measure, a common sympathy, +and, while guarding themselves against their common foe, had little +leisure for controversy with each other; but, as was natural, the +abatement of their mutual suffering and danger was the signal for +renewing their suspended quarrels. The Baptists fell upon the Quakers, +with pamphlet and sermon; the latter replied in the same way. One of the +most conspicuous of the Baptist disputants was the famous Jeremy Ives, +with whom our friend Ellwood seems to have had a good deal of trouble. +"His name," says Ellwood, "was up for a topping Disputant. He was well, +read in the fallacies of logic, and was ready in framing syllogisms. His +chief art lay in tickling the humor of rude, unlearned, and injudicious +hearers." + +The following piece of Ellwood's, entitled "An Epitaph for Jeremy Ives," +will serve to show that wit and drollery were sometimes found even among +the proverbially sober Quakers of the seventeenth century:-- + + "Beneath this stone, depressed, doth lie + The Mirror of Hypocrisy-- + Ives, whose mercenary tongue + Like a Weathercock was hung, + And did this or that way play, + As Advantage led the way. + If well hired, he would dispute, + Otherwise he would be mute. + But he'd bawl for half a day, + If he knew and liked his pay. + + "For his person, let it pass; + Only note his face was brass. + His heart was like a pumice-stone, + And for Conscience he had none. + Of Earth and Air he was composed, + With Water round about enclosed. + Earth in him had greatest share, + Questionless, his life lay there; + Thence his cankered Envy sprung, + Poisoning both his heart and tongue. + + "Air made him frothy, light, and vain, + And puffed him with a proud disdain. + Into the Water oft he went, + And through the Water many sent + That was, ye know, his element! + The greatest odds that did appear + Was this, for aught that I can hear, + That he in cold did others dip, + But did himself hot water sip. + + "And his cause he'd never doubt, + If well soak'd o'er night in Stout; + But, meanwhile, he must not lack + Brandy and a draught of Sack. + One dispute would shrink a bottle + Of three pints, if not a pottle. + One would think he fetched from thence + All his dreamy eloquence. + + "Let us now bring back the Sot + To his Aqua Vita pot, + And observe, with some content, + How he framed his argument. + That his whistle he might wet, + The bottle to his mouth he set, + And, being Master of that Art, + Thence he drew the Major part, + But left the Minor still behind; + Good reason why, he wanted wind; + If his breath would have held out, + He had Conclusion drawn, no doubt." + +The residue of Ellwood's life seems to have glided on in serenity and +peace. He wrote, at intervals, many pamphlets in defence of his Society, +and in favor of Liberty of Conscience. At his hospitable residence, the +leading spirits of the sect were warmly welcomed. George Fox and William +Penn seem to have been frequent guests. We find that, in 1683, he was +arrested for seditious publications, when on the eve of hastening to his +early friend, Gulielma, who, in the absence of her husband, Governor +Penn, had fallen dangerously ill. On coming before the judge, "I told +him," says Ellwood, "that I had that morning received an express out of +Sussex, that William Penn's wife (with whom I had an intimate +acquaintance and strict friendship, _ab ipsis fere incunabilis_, at +least, _a teneris unguiculis_) lay now ill, not without great danger, and +that she had expressed her desire that I would come to her as soon as I +could." The judge said "he was very sorry for Madam Penn's illness," of +whose virtues he spoke very highly, but not more than was her due. Then +he told me, "that, for her sake, he would do what he could to further my +visit to her." Escaping from the hands of the law, he visited his +friend, who was by this time in a way of recovery, and, on his return, +learned that the prosecution had been abandoned. + +At about this date his narrative ceases. We learn, from other sources, +that he continued to write and print in defence of his religious views up +to the year of his death, which took place in 1713. One of his +productions, a poetical version of the Life of David, may be still met +with, in the old Quaker libraries. On the score of poetical merit, it is +about on a level with Michael Drayton's verses on the same subject. As +the history of one of the firm confessors of the old struggle for +religious freedom, of a genial-hearted and pleasant scholar, the friend +of Penn and Milton, and the suggester of Paradise Regained, we trust our +hurried sketch has not been altogether without interest; and that, +whatever may be the religious views of our readers, they have not failed +to recognize a good and true man in Thomas Ellwood. + + + + +JAMES NAYLER. + + "You will here read the true story of that much injured, ridiculed + man, James Nayler; what dreadful sufferings, with what patience he + endured, even to the boring of the tongue with hot irons, without a + murmur; and with what strength of mind, when the delusion he had + fallen into, which they stigmatized as blasphemy, had given place to + clearer thoughts, he could renounce his error in a strain of the + beautifullest humility."--Essays of Elia. + +"Would that Carlyle could now try his hand at the English Revolution!" +was our exclamation, on laying down the last volume of his remarkable +History of the French Revolution with its brilliant and startling word- +pictures still flashing before us. To some extent this wish has been +realized in the Letters and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell. Yet we confess +that the perusal of these volumes has disappointed us. Instead of giving +himself free scope, as in his French Revolution, and transferring to his +canvas all the wild and ludicrous, the terrible and beautiful phases of +that moral phenomenon, he has here concentrated all his artistic skill +upon a single figure, whom he seems to have regarded as the embodiment +and hero of the great event. All else on his canvas is subordinated to +the grim image of the colossal Puritan. Intent upon presenting him as +the fitting object of that "hero-worship," which, in its blind admiration +and adoration of mere abstract Power, seems to us at times nothing less +than devil-worship, he dwarfs, casts into the shadow, nay, in some +instances caricatures and distorts, the figures which surround him. To +excuse Cromwell in his usurpation, Henry Vane, one of those exalted and +noble characters, upon whose features the lights held by historical +friends or foes detect no blemish, is dismissed with a sneer and an +utterly unfounded imputation of dishonesty. To reconcile, in some +degree, the discrepancy between the declarations of Cromwell, in behalf +of freedom of conscience, and that mean and cruel persecution which the +Quakers suffered under the Protectorate, the generally harmless +fanaticism of a few individuals bearing that name is gravely urged. Nay, +the fact that some weak-brained enthusiasts undertook to bring about the +millennium, by associating together, cultivating the earth, and "dibbling +beans" for the New Jerusalem market, is regarded by our author as the +"germ of Quakerism;" and furnishes an occasion for sneering at "my poor +friend Dryasdust, lamentably tearing his hair over the intolerance of +that old time to Quakerism and such like." + +The readers of this (with all its faults) powerfully written Biography +cannot fail to have been impressed with the intensely graphic description +(Part I., vol. ii., pp. 184, 185) of the entry of the poor fanatic, +James Nayler, and his forlorn and draggled companions into Bristol. +Sadly ludicrous is it; affecting us like the actual sight of tragic +insanity enacting its involuntary comedy, and making us smile through our +tears. + +In another portion of the work, a brief account is given of the trial and +sentence of Nayler, also in the serio-comic view; and the poor man is +dismissed with the simple intimation, that after his punishment he +"repented, and confessed himself mad." It was no part of the author's +business, we are well aware, to waste time and words upon the history of +such a man as Nayler; he was of no importance to him, otherwise than as +one of the disturbing influences in the government of the Lord Protector. +But in our mind the story of James Nayler has always been one of +interest; and in the belief that it will prove so to others, who, like +Charles Lamb, can appreciate the beautiful humility of a forgiven spirit, +we have taken some pains to collect and embody the facts of it. + +James Nayler was born in the parish of Ardesley, in Yorkshire, 1616. His +father was a substantial farmer, of good repute and competent estate and +be, in consequence, received a good education: At the age of twenty-two, +he married and removed to Wakefield parish, which has since been made +classic ground by the pen of Goldsmith. Here, an honest, God-fearing +farmer, he tilled his soil, and alternated between cattle-markets and +Independent conventicles. In 1641, he obeyed the summons of "my Lord +Fairfax" and the Parliament, and joined a troop of horse composed of +sturdy Independents, doing such signal service against "the man of +Belial, Charles Stuart," that he was promoted to the rank of +quartermaster, in which capacity he served under General Lambert, in his +Scottish campaign. Disabled at length by sickness, he was honorably +dismissed from the service, and returned to his family in 1649. + +For three or four years, he continued to attend the meetings of the +Independents, as a zealous and devout member. But it so fell out, that +in the winter of 1651, George Fox, who had just been released from a +cruel imprisonment in Derby jail, felt a call to set his face towards +Yorkshire. "So travelling," says Fox, in his Journal, "through the +countries, to several places, preaching Repentance and the Word of Life, +I came into the parts about Wakefield, where James Navler lived." The +worn and weary soldier, covered with the scars of outward battle, +received, as he believed, in the cause of God and his people, against +Antichrist and oppression, welcomed with thankfulness the veteran of +another warfare; who, in conflict with a principalities and powers, and +spiritual wickedness in high places, had made his name a familiar one in +every English hamlet. "He and Thomas Goodyear," says Fox, "came to me, +and were both convinced, and received the truth." He soon after joined +the Society of Friends. In the spring of the next year he was in his +field following his plough, and meditating, as he was wont, on the great +questions of life and duty, when he seemed to hear a voice bidding him go +out from his kindred and his father's house, with an assurance that the +Lord would be with him, while laboring in his service. Deeply impressed, +he left his employment, and, returning to his house, made immediate +preparations for a journey. But hesitation and doubt followed; he became +sick from anxiety of mind, and his recovery, for a time, was exceedingly +doubtful. On his restoration to bodily health, he obeyed what he +regarded as a clear intimation of duty, and went forth a preacher of the +doctrines he had embraced. The Independent minister of the society to +which he had formerly belonged sent after him the story that he was the +victim of sorcery; that George Fox carried with him a bottle, out of +which he made people drink; and that the draught had the power to change +a Presbyterian or Independent into a Quaker at once; that, in short, the +Arch-Quaker, Fox, was a wizard, and could be seen at the same moment of +time riding on the same black horse, in two places widely separated. He +had scarcely commenced his exhortations, before the mob, excited by such +stories, assailed him. In the early summer of the year we hear of him in +Appleby jail. On his release, he fell in company with George Fox. At +Walney Island, he was furiously assaulted, and beaten with clubs and +stones; the poor priest-led fishermen being fully persuaded that they +were dealing with a wizard. The spirit of the man, under these +circumstances, may be seen in the following extract from a letter to his +friends, dated at "Killet, in Lancashire, the 30th of 8th Month, 1652:"-- + +"Dear friends! Dwell in patience, and wait upon the Lord, who will do +his own work. Look not at man who is in the work, nor at any man +opposing it; but rest in the will of the Lord, that so ye may be +furnished with patience, both to do and to suffer what ye shall be called +unto, that your end in all things may be His praise. Meet often +together; take heed of what exalteth itself above its brother; but keep +low, and serve one another in love." + +Laboring thus, interrupted only by persecution, stripes, and +imprisonment, he finally came to London, and spoke with great power and +eloquence in the meetings of Friends in that city. Here he for the first +time found himself surrounded by admiring and sympathizing friends. He +saw and rejoiced in the fruits of his ministry. Profane and drunken +cavaliers, intolerant Presbyters, and blind Papists, owned the truths +which he uttered, and counted themselves his disciples. Women, too, in +their deep trustfulness and admiring reverence, sat at the feet of the +eloquent stranger. Devout believers in the doctrine of the inward light +and manifestation of God in the heart of man, these latter, at length, +thought they saw such unmistakable evidences of the true life in James +Nayler, that they felt constrained to declare that Christ was, in an +especial manner, within him, and to call upon all to recognize in +reverent adoration this new incarnation of the divine and heavenly. The +wild enthusiasm of his disciples had its effect on the teacher. Weak in +body, worn with sickness, fasting, stripes, and prison-penance, and +naturally credulous and imaginative, is it strange that in some measure +he yielded to this miserable delusion? Let those who would harshly judge +him, or ascribe his fall to the peculiar doctrines of his sect, think of +Luther, engaged in personal combat with the Devil, or conversing with him +on points of theology in his bed-chamber; or of Bunyan at actual +fisticuffs with the adversary; or of Fleetwood and Vane and Harrison +millennium-mad, and making preparations for an earthly reign of King +Jesus. It was an age of intense religious excitement. Fanaticism had +become epidemic. Cromwell swayed his Parliaments by "revelations" and +Scripture phrases in the painted chamber; stout generals and sea-captains +exterminated the Irish, and swept Dutch navies from the ocean, with old +Jewish war-cries, and hymns of Deborah and Miriam; country justices +charged juries in Hebraisms, and cited the laws of Palestine oftener than +those of England. Poor Nayler found himself in the very midst of this +seething and confused moral maelstrom. He struggled against it for a +time, but human nature was weak; he became, to use his own words, +"bewildered and darkened," and the floods went over him. + +Leaving London with some of his more zealous followers, not without +solemn admonition and rebuke from Francis Howgill and Edward Burrough, +who at that period were regarded as the most eminent and gifted of the +Society's ministers, he bent his steps towards Exeter. Here, in +consequence of the extravagance of his language and that of his +disciples, he was arrested and thrown into prison. Several infatuated +women surrounded the jail, declaring that "Christ was in prison," and on +being admitted to see him, knelt down and kissed his feet, exclaiming, +"Thy name shall be no more called James Nayler, but Jesus!" Let us pity +him and them. They, full of grateful and extravagant affection for the +man whose voice had called them away from worldly vanities to what they +regarded as eternal realities, whose hand they imagined had for them +swung back the pearl gates of the celestial city, and flooded their +atmosphere with light from heaven; he, receiving their homage (not as +offered to a poor, weak, sinful Yorkshire trooper, but rather to the +hidden man of the heart, the "Christ within" him) with that self- +deceiving humility which is but another name for spiritual pride. +Mournful, yet natural; such as is still in greater or less degree +manifested between the Catholic enthusiast and her confessor; such as the +careful observer may at times take note of in our Protestant revivals and +camp meetings. + +How Nayler was released from Exeter jail does not appear, but the next we +hear of him is at Bristol, in the fall of the year. His entrance into +that city shows the progress which he and his followers had made in the +interval. Let us look at Carlyle's description of it: "A procession of +eight persons one, a man on horseback riding single, the others, men and +women partly riding double, partly on foot, in the muddiest highway in +the wettest weather; singing, all but the single rider, at whose bridle +walk and splash two women, 'Hosannah! Holy, holy! Lord God of Sabaoth,' +and other things, 'in a buzzing tone,' which the impartial hearer could +not make out. The single rider is a raw-boned male figure, 'with lank +hair reaching below his cheeks,' hat drawn close over his brows, 'nose +rising slightly in the middle,' of abstruse 'down look,' and large +dangerous jaws strictly closed: he sings not, sits there covered, and is +sung to by the others bare. Amid pouring deluges and mud knee-deep, 'so +that the rain ran in at their necks and vented it at their hose and +breeches: 'a spectacle to the West of England and posterity! Singing as +above; answering no question except in song. From Bedminster to +Ratcliffgate, along the streets to the High Cross of Bristol: at the High +Cross they are laid hold of by the authorities: turn out to be James +Nayler and Company." + +Truly, a more pitiful example of "hero-worship" is not well to be +conceived of. Instead of taking the rational view of it, however, and +mercifully shutting up the actors in a mad-house, the authorities of that +day, conceiving it to be a stupendous blasphemy, and themselves God's +avengers in the matter, sent Nayler under strong guard up to London, to +be examined before the Parliament. After long and tedious examinations +and cross-questionings, and still more tedious debates, some portion of +which, not uninstructive to the reader, may still be found in Burton's +Diary, the following horrible resolution was agreed upon:-- + +"That James Nayler be set in the pillory, with his head in the pillory in +the Palace Yard, Westminster, during the space of two hours on Thursday +next; and be whipped by the hangman through the streets from Westminster +to the Old Exchange, and there, likewise, be set in the pillory, with his +head in the pillory for the space of two hours, between eleven and one, +on Saturday next, in each place wearing a paper containing a description +of his crimes; and that at the Old Exchange his tongue be bored through +with a hot iron, and that he be there stigmatized on the forehead with +the letter 'B;' and that he be afterwards sent to Bristol, to be conveyed +into and through the said city on horseback with his face backward, and +there, also, publicly whipped the next market-day after he comes thither; +that from thence he be committed to prison in Bridewell, London, and +there restrained from the society of people, and there to labor hard +until he shall be released by Parliament; and during that time be +debarred the use of pen, ink, and paper, and have no relief except what +he earns by his daily labor." + +Such, neither more nor less, was, in the opinion of Parliament, required +on their part to appease the divine vengeance. The sentence was +pronounced on the 17th of the twelfth month; the entire time of the +Parliament for the two months previous having been occupied with the +case. The Presbyterians in that body were ready enough to make the most +of an offence committed by one who had been an Independent; the +Independents, to escape the stigma of extenuating the crimes of one of +their quondam brethren, vied with their antagonists in shrieking over the +atrocity of Nayler's blasphemy, and in urging its severe punishment. +Here and there among both classes were men disposed to leniency, and more +than one earnest plea was made for merciful dealing with a man whose +reason was evidently unsettled, and who was, therefore, a fitting object +of compassion; whose crime, if it could indeed be called one, was +evidently the result of a clouded intellect, and not of wilful intention +of evil. On the other hand, many were in favor of putting him to death +as a sort of peace-offering to the clergy, who, as a matter of course, +were greatly scandalized by Nayler's blasphemy, and still more by the +refusal of his sect to pay tithes, or recognize their divine commission. + +Nayler was called into the Parliament-house to receive his sentence. +"I do not know mine offence," he said mildly. "You shall know it," said +Sir Thomas Widrington, "by your sentence." When the sentence was read, +he attempted to speak, but was silenced. "I pray God," said Nayler, +"that he may not lay this to your charge." + +The next day, the 18th of the twelfth month, he stood in the pillory two +hours, in the chill winter air, and was then stripped and scourged by the +hangman at the tail of a cart through the streets. Three hundred and ten +stripes were inflicted; his back and arms were horribly cut and mangled, +and his feet crushed and bruised by the feet of horses treading on him in +the crowd. He bore all with uncomplaining patience; but was so far +exhausted by his sufferings, that it was found necessary to postpone the +execution of the residue of the sentence for one week. The terrible +severity of his sentence, and his meek endurance of it, had in the mean +time powerfully affected many of the humane and generous of all classes +in the city; and a petition for the remission of the remaining part of +the penalty was numerously signed and presented to Parliament. A debate +ensued upon it, but its prayer was rejected. Application was then made +to Cromwell, who addressed a letter to the Speaker of the House, +inquiring into the affair, protesting an "abhorrence and detestation of +giving or occasioning the least countenance to such opinions and +practices" as were imputed to Nayler; "yet we, being intrusted in the +present government on behalf of the people of these nations, and not +knowing how far such proceeding entered into wholly without us may extend +in the consequence of it, do hereby desire the House may let us know the +grounds and reasons whereon they have proceeded." From this, it is not +unlikely that the Protector might have been disposed to clemency, and to +look with a degree of charity upon the weakness and errors of one of his +old and tried soldiers who had striven like a brave man, as he was, for +the rights and liberties of Englishmen; but the clergy here interposed, +and vehemently, in the name of God and His Church, demanded that the +executioner should finish his work. Five of the most eminent of them, +names well known in the Protectorate, Caryl, Manton, Nye, Griffith, and +Reynolds, were deputed by Parliament to visit the mangled prisoner. A +reasonable request was made, that some impartial person might be present, +that justice might be done Nayler in the report of his answers. This was +refused. It was, however, agreed that the conversation should be written +down and a copy of it left with the jailer. He was asked if he was sorry +for his blasphemies. He said he did not know to what blasphemies they +alluded; that he did believe in Jesus Christ; that He had taken up His +dwelling in his own heart, and for the testimony of Him he now suffered. +"I believe," said one of the ministers, "in a Christ who was never in any +man's heart." "I know no such Christ," rejoined the prisoner; "the +Christ I witness to fills Heaven and Earth, and dwells in the hearts of +all true believers." On being asked why he allowed the women to adore +and worship him, he said he "denied bowing to the creature; but if they +beheld the power of Christ, wherever it was, and bowed to it, he could +not resist it, or say aught against it." + +After some further parley, the reverend visitors grew angry, threw the +written record of the conversation in the fire, and left the prison, to +report the prisoner incorrigible. + +On the 27th of the month, he was again led out of his cell and placed +upon the pillory. Thousands of citizens were gathered around, many of +them earnestly protesting against the extreme cruelty of his punishment. +Robert Rich, an influential and honorable merchant, followed him up to +the pillory with expressions of great sympathy, and held him by the hand +while the red-hot iron was pressed through his tongue and the brand was +placed on his forehead. He was next sent to Bristol, and publicly +whipped through the principal streets of that city; and again brought +back to the Bridewell prison, where he remained about two years, shut out +from all intercourse with his fellow-beings. At the expiration of this +period, he was released by order of Parliament. In the solitude of his +cell, the angel of patience had been with him. + +Through the cloud which had so long rested over him, the clear light of +truth shone in upon his spirit; the weltering chaos of a disordered +intellect settled into the calm peace of a reconciliation with God and +man. His first act on leaving prison was to visit Bristol, the scene of +his melancholy fall. There he publicly confessed his errors, in the +eloquent earnestness of a contrite spirit, humbled in view of the past, +yet full of thanksgiving and praise for the great boon of forgiveness. A +writer who was present says, the "assembly was tendered, and broken into +tears; there were few dry eyes, and many were bowed in their minds." + +In a paper which he published soon after, he acknowledges his lamentable +delusion. "Condemned forever," he says, "be all those false worships +with which any have idolized my person in that Night of my Temptation, +when the Power of Darkness was above rue; all that did in any way tend to +dishonor the Lord, or draw the minds of any from the measure of Christ +Jesus in themselves, to look at flesh, which is as grass, or to ascribe +that to the visible which belongs to Him. Darkness came over me +through want of watchfulness and obedience to the pure Eye of God. I was +taken captive from the true light; I was walking in the Night, as a +wandering bird fit for a prey. And if the Lord of all my mercies had not +rescued me, I had perished; for I was as one appointed to death and +destruction, and there was none to deliver me." + +"It is in my heart to confess to God, and before men, my folly and +offence in that day; yet there were many things formed against me in +that day, to take away my life and bring scandal upon the truth, of +which I was not guilty at all." "The provocation of that Time of +Temptation was exceeding great against the Lord, yet He left me not; for +when Darkness was above, and the Adversary so prevailed that all things +were turned and perverted against my right seeing, hearing, or +understanding, only a secret hope and faith I had in my God, whom I had +served, that He would bring me through it and to the end of it, and that +I should again see the day of my redemption from under it all,--this +quieted my soul in its greatest tribulation." He concludes his +confession with these words: "He who hath saved my soul from death, who +hath lifted my feet up out of the pit, even to Him be glory forever; and +let every troubled soul trust in Him, for his mercy endureth forever!" + +Among his papers, written soon after his release, is a remarkable prayer, +or rather thanksgiving. The limit I have prescribed to myself will only +allow me to copy an extract:-- + +"It is in my heart to praise Thee, O my God! Let me never forget Thee, +what Thou hast been to me in the night, by Thy presence in my hour of +trial, when I was beset in darkness, when I was cast out as a wandering +bird; when I was assaulted with strong temptations, then Thy presence, in +secret, did preserve me, and in a low state I felt Thee near me; when my +way was through the sea, when I passed under the mountains, there wast +Thou present with me; when the weight of the hills was upon me, Thou +upheldest me. Thou didst fight, on my part, when I wrestled with death; +when darkness would have shut me up, Thy light shone about me; when my +work was in the furnace, and I passed through the fire, by Thee I was not +consumed; when I beheld the dreadful visions, and was among the fiery +spirits, Thy faith staid me, else through fear I had fallen. I saw Thee, +and believed, so that the enemy could not prevail." After speaking of +his humiliation and sufferings, which Divine Mercy had overruled for his +spiritual good, he thus concludes: "Thou didst lift me out from the pit, +and set me forth in the sight of my enemies; Thou proclaimedst liberty to +the captive; Thou calledst my acquaintances near me; they to whom I had +been a wonder looked upon me; and in Thy love I obtained favor with those +who had deserted me. Then did gladness swallow up sorrow, and I forsook +my troubles; and I said, How good is it that man be proved in the night, +that he may know his folly, that every mouth may become silent, until +Thou makest man known unto himself, and has slain the boaster, and shown +him the vanity which vexeth Thy spirit." + +All honor to the Quakers of that day, that, at the risk of +misrepresentation and calumny, they received back to their communion +their greatly erring, but deeply repentant, brother. His life, ever +after, was one of self-denial and jealous watchfulness over himself,-- +blameless and beautiful in its humility and lowly charity. + +Thomas Ellwood, in his autobiography for the year 1659, mentions Nayler, +whom he met in company with Edward Burrough at the house of Milton's +friend, Pennington. Ellwood's father held a discourse with the two +Quakers on their doctrine of free and universal grace. "James Nailer," +says Ellwood, "handled the subject with so much perspicuity and clear +demonstration, that his reasoning seemed to be irresistible. As for +Edward Burrough, he was a brisk young Man, of a ready Tongue, and might +have been for aught I then knew, a Scholar, which made me less admire his +Way of Reasoning. But what dropt from James Nailer had the greater Force +upon me, because he lookt like a simple Countryman, having the appearance +of an Husbandman or Shepherd." + +In the latter part of the eighth month, 1660, he left London on foot, to +visit his wife and children in Wakefield. As he journeyed on, the sense +of a solemn change about to take place seemed with him; the shadow of the +eternal world fell over him. As he passed through Huntingdon, a friend +who saw him describes him as "in an awful and weighty frame of mind, as +if he had been redeemed from earth, and a stranger on it, seeking a +better home and inheritance." A few miles beyond the town, he was found, +in the dusk of the evening, very ill, and was taken to the house of a +friend, who lived not far distant. He died shortly after, expressing his +gratitude for the kindness of his attendants, and invoking blessings upon +them. About two hours before his death, he spoke to the friend at his +bedside these remarkable words, solemn as eternity, and beautiful as the +love which fills it:-- + +"There is a spirit which I feel which delights to do no evil, nor to +avenge any wrong; but delights to endure all things, in hope to enjoy its +own in the end; its hope is to outlive all wrath and contention, and to +weary out all exultation and cruelty, or whatever is of a nature contrary +to itself. It sees to the end of all temptations; as it bears no evil in +itself, so it conceives none in thought to any other: if it be betrayed, +it bears it, for its ground and spring is the mercy and forgiveness of +God. Its crown is meekness; its life is everlasting love unfeigned; it +takes its kingdom with entreaty, and not with contention, and keeps it by +lowliness of mind. In God alone it can rejoice, though none else regard +it, or can own its life. It is conceived in sorrow, and brought forth +with none to pity it; nor doth it murmur at grief and oppression. It +never rejoiceth but through sufferings, for with the world's joy it is +murdered. I found it alone, being forsaken. I have fellowship therein +with them who lived in dens and desolate places of the earth, who through +death obtained resurrection and eternal Holy Life." + +So died James Nayler. He was buried in "Thomas Parnell's burying-ground, +at King's Rippon," in a green nook of rural England. Wrong and violence, +and temptation and sorrow, and evil-speaking, could reach him no more. +And in taking leave of him, let us say, with old Joseph Wyeth, where he +touches upon this case in his _Anguis Flagellatus_: "Let none insult, but +take heed lest they also, in the hour of their temptation, do fall away." + + + + +ANDREW MARVELL + + "They who with a good conscience and an upright heart do their civil + duties in the sight of God, and in their several places, to resist + tyranny and the violence of superstition banded both against them, + will never seek to be forgiven that which may justly be attributed + to their immortal praise."--Answer to Eikon Basilike. + +Among, the great names which adorned the Protectorate,--that period of +intense mental activity, when political and religious rights and duties +were thoroughly discussed by strong and earnest statesmen and +theologians,--that of Andrew Marvell, the friend of Milton, and Latin +Secretary of Cromwell, deserves honorable mention. The magnificent prose +of Milton, long neglected, is now perhaps as frequently read as his great +epic; but the writings of his friend and fellow secretary, devoted like +his own to the cause of freedom and the rights of the people, are +scarcely known to the present generation. It is true that Marvell's +political pamphlets were less elaborate and profound than those of the +author of the glorious _Defence of Unlicensed Printing_. He was light, +playful, witty, and sarcastic; he lacked the stern dignity, the terrible +invective, the bitter scorn, the crushing, annihilating retort, the grand +and solemn eloquence, and the devout appeals, which render immortal the +controversial works of Milton. But he, too, has left his foot-prints on +his age; he, too, has written for posterity that which they "will not +willingly let die." As one of the inflexible defenders of English +liberty, sowers of the seed, the fruits of which we are now reaping, he +has a higher claim on the kind regards of this generation than his merits +as a poet, by no means inconsiderable, would warrant. + +Andrew Marvell was born in Kingston-upon-Hull, in 1620. At the age of +eighteen he entered Trinity College, whence he was enticed by the +Jesuits, then actively seeking proselytes. After remaining with them a +short time, his father found him, and brought him back to his studies. +On leaving college, he travelled on the Continent. At Rome he wrote his +first satire, a humorous critique upon Richard Flecknoe, an English +Jesuit and verse writer, whose lines on Silence Charles Lamb quotes in +one of his Essays. It is supposed that he made his first acquaintance +with Milton in Italy. + +At Paris he made the Abbot de Manihan the subject of another satire. The +Abbot pretended to skill in the arts of magic, and used to prognosticate +the fortunes of people from the character of their handwriting. At what +period he returned from his travels we are not aware. It is stated, by +some of his biographers, that he was sent as secretary of a Turkish +mission. In 1653, he was appointed the tutor of Cromwell's nephew; and, +four years after, doubtless through the instrumentality of his friend +Milton, he received the honorable appointment of Latin Secretary of the +Commonwealth. In 1658, he was selected by his townsmen of Hull to +represent them in Parliament. In this service he continued until 1663, +when, notwithstanding his sturdy republican principles, he was appointed +secretary to the Russian embassy. On his return, in 1665, he was again +elected to Parliament, and continued in the public service until the +prorogation of the Parliament of 1675. + +The boldness, the uncompromising integrity and irreproachable consistency +of Marvell, as a statesman, have secured for him the honorable +appellation of "the British Aristides." Unlike too many of his old +associates under the Protectorate, he did not change with the times. He +was a republican in Cromwell's day, and neither threats of assassination, +nor flatteries, nor proffered bribes, could make him anything else in +that of Charles II. He advocated the rights of the people at a time when +patriotism was regarded as ridiculous folly; when a general corruption, +spreading downwards from a lewd and abominable Court, had made +legislation a mere scramble for place and emolument. English history +presents no period so disgraceful as the Restoration. To use the words +of Macaulay, it was "a day of servitude without loyalty and sensuality +without love, of dwarfish talents and gigantic vices, the paradise of +cold hearts and narrow minds, the golden age of the coward, the bigot, +and the slave. The principles of liberty were the scoff of every +grinning courtier, and the Anathema Maranatha of every fawning dean." It +is the peculiar merit of Milton and Marvell, that in such an age they +held fast their integrity, standing up in glorious contrast with clerical +apostates and traitors to the cause of England's liberty. + +In the discharge of his duties as a statesman Marvell was as punctual and +conscientious as our own venerable Apostle of Freedom, John Quincy Adams. +He corresponded every post with his constituents, keeping them fully +apprised of all that transpired at Court or in Parliament. He spoke but +seldom, but his great personal influence was exerted privately upon the +members of the Commons as well as upon the Peers. His wit, accomplished +manners, and literary eminence made him a favorite at the Court itself. +The voluptuous and careless monarch laughed over the biting satire of the +republican poet, and heartily enjoyed his lively conversation. It is +said that numerous advances were made to him by the courtiers of Charles +II., but he was found to be incorruptible. The personal compliments of +the King, the encomiums of Rochester, the smiles and flatteries of the +frail but fair and high-born ladies of the Court; nay, even the golden +offers of the King's treasurer, who, climbing with difficulty to his +obscure retreat on an upper floor of a court in the Strand, laid a +tempting bribe of L1,000 before him, on the very day when he had been +compelled to borrow a guinea, were all lost upon the inflexible patriot. +He stood up manfully, in an age of persecution, for religious liberty, +opposed the oppressive excise, and demanded frequent Parliaments and a +fair representation of the people. + +In 1672, Marvell engaged in a controversy with the famous High-Churchman, +Dr. Parker, who had taken the lead in urging the persecution of Non- +conformists. In one of the works of this arrogant divine, he says that +"it is absolutely necessary to the peace and government of the world that +the supreme magistrate should be vested with power to govern and conduct +the consciences of subjects in affairs of religion. Princes may with +less hazard give liberty to men's vices and debaucheries than to their +consciences." And, speaking of the various sects of Non-conformists, he +counsels princes and legislators that "tenderness and indulgence to such +men is to nourish vipers in their own bowels, and the most sottish +neglect of our quiet and security." Marvell replied to him in a severely +satirical pamphlet, which provoked a reply from the Doctor. Marvell +rejoined, with a rare combination of wit and argument. The effect of his +sarcasm on the Doctor and his supporters may be inferred from an +anonymous note sent him, in which the writer threatens by the eternal God +to cut his throat, if he uttered any more libels upon Dr. Parker. Bishop +Burnet remarks that "Marvell writ in a burlesque strain, but with so +peculiar and so entertaining a conduct 'that from the King down to the +tradesman his books were read with great pleasure, and not only humbled +Parker, but his whole party, for Marvell had all the wits on his side.'" +The Bishop further remarks that Marvell's satire "gave occasion to the +only piece of modesty with which Dr. Parker was ever charged, namely, of +withdrawing from town, and not importuning the press for some years, +since even a face of brass must grow red when it is burnt as his has +been." + +Dean Swift, in commenting upon the usual fate of controversial pamphlets, +which seldom live beyond their generation, says: "There is indeed an +exception, when a great genius undertakes to expose a foolish piece; so +we still read Marvell's answer to Parker with pleasure, though the book +it answers be sunk long ago." + +Perhaps, in the entire compass of our language, there is not to be found +a finer piece of satirical writing than Marvell's famous parody of the +speeches of Charles II., in which the private vices and public +inconsistencies of the King, and his gross violations of his pledges on +coming to the throne, are exposed with the keenest wit and the most +laugh-provoking irony. Charles himself, although doubtless annoyed by +it, could not refrain from joining in the mirth which it excited at his +expense. + +The friendship between Marvell and Milton remained firm and unbroken to +the last. The former exerted himself to save his illustrious friend from +persecution, and omitted no opportunity to defend him as a politician and +to eulogize him as a poet. In 1654 he presented to Cromwell Milton's +noble tract in _Defence of the People of England_, and, in writing to the +author, says of the work, "When I consider how equally it teems and rises +with so many figures, it seems to me a Trajan's column, in whose winding +ascent we see embossed the several monuments of your learned victories." +He was one of the first to appreciate _Paradise Lost_, and to commend it +in some admirable lines. One couplet is exceedingly beautiful, in its +reference to the author's blindness:-- + + "Just Heaven, thee like Tiresias to requite, + Rewards with prophecy thy loss of sight." + +His poems, written in the "snatched leisure" of an active political life, +bear marks of haste, and are very unequal. In the midst of passages of +pastoral description worthy of Milton himself, feeble lines and hackneyed +phrases occur. His _Nymph lamenting the Death of her Fawn_ is a finished +and elaborate piece, full of grace and tenderness. _Thoughts in a +Garden_ will be remembered by the quotations of that exquisite critic, +Charles Lamb. How pleasant is this picture! + + "What wondrous life is this I lead! + Ripe apples drop about my head; + The luscious clusters of the vine + Upon my mouth do crush their wine; + The nectarine and curious peach + Into my hands themselves do reach; + Stumbling on melons as I pass, + Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass. + + "Here at this fountain's sliding foot, + Or at the fruit-tree's mossy root, + Casting the body's vest aside, + My soul into the boughs does glide. + There like a bird it sits and sings, + And whets and claps its silver wings; + And, till prepared for longer flight, + Waves in its plumes the various light. + + "How well the skilful gard'ner drew + Of flowers and herbs this dial true! + Where, from above, the milder sun + Does through a fragrant zodiac run; + And, as it works, the industrious bee + Computes his time as well as we. + How could such sweet and wholesome hours + Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers!" + + +One of his longer poems, _Appleton House_, contains passages of admirable +description, and many not unpleasing conceits. Witness the following:-- + + "Thus I, an easy philosopher, + Among the birds and trees confer, + And little now to make me wants, + Or of the fowl or of the plants. + Give me but wings, as they, and I + Straight floating on the air shall fly; + Or turn me but, and you shall see + I am but an inverted tree. + Already I begin to call + In their most learned original; + And, where I language want, my signs + The bird upon the bough divines. + No leaf does tremble in the wind, + Which I returning cannot find. + Out of these scattered Sibyl's leaves, + Strange prophecies my fancy weaves: + What Rome, Greece, Palestine, e'er said, + I in this light Mosaic read. + Under this antic cope I move, + Like some great prelate of the grove; + Then, languishing at ease, I toss + On pallets thick with velvet moss; + While the wind, cooling through the boughs, + Flatters with air my panting brows. + Thanks for my rest, ye mossy banks! + And unto you, cool zephyrs, thanks! + Who, as my hair, my thoughts too shed, + And winnow from the chaff my head. + How safe, methinks, and strong behind + These trees have I encamped my mind!" + +Here is a picture of a piscatorial idler and his trout stream, worthy of +the pencil of Izaak Walton:-- + + "See in what wanton harmless folds + It everywhere the meadow holds: + Where all things gaze themselves, and doubt + If they be in it or without; + And for this shade, which therein shines + Narcissus-like, the sun too pines. + Oh! what a pleasure 't is to hedge + My temples here in heavy sedge; + Abandoning my lazy side, + Stretched as a bank unto the tide; + Or, to suspend my sliding foot + On the osier's undermining root, + And in its branches tough to hang, + While at my lines the fishes twang." + +A little poem of Marvell's, which he calls Eyes and Tears, has the +following passages:-- + + "How wisely Nature did agree + With the same eyes to weep and see! + That having viewed the object vain, + They might be ready to complain. + And, since the self-deluding sight + In a false angle takes each height, + These tears, which better measure all, + Like watery lines and plummets fall." + + "Happy are they whom grief doth bless, + That weep the more, and see the less; + And, to preserve their sight more true, + Bathe still their eyes in their own dew; + So Magdalen, in tears more wise, + Dissolved those captivating eyes, + Whose liquid chains could, flowing, meet + To fetter her Redeemer's feet. + The sparkling glance, that shoots desire, + Drenched in those tears, does lose its fire; + Yea, oft the Thunderer pity takes, + And there his hissing lightning slakes. + The incense is to Heaven dear, + Not as a perfume, but a tear; + And stars shine lovely in the night, + But as they seem the tears of light. + Ope, then, mine eyes, your double sluice, + And practise so your noblest use; + For others, too, can see or sleep, + But only human eyes can weep." + +The Bermuda Emigrants has some happy lines, as the following:-- + + "He hangs in shade the orange bright, + Like golden lamps in a green night." + +Or this, which doubtless suggested a couplet in Moore's _Canadian Boat +Song_:-- + + "And all the way, to guide the chime, + With falling oars they kept the time." + +His facetious and burlesque poetry was much admired in his day; but a +great portion of it referred to persons and events no longer of general +interest. The satire on Holland is an exception. There is nothing in +its way superior to it in our language. Many of his best pieces were +originally written in Latin, and afterwards translated by himself. There +is a splendid Ode to Cromwell--a worthy companion of Milton's glorious +sonnet--which is not generally known, and which we transfer entire to our +pages. Its simple dignity and the melodious flow of its versification +commend themselves more to our feelings than its eulogy of war. It is +energetic and impassioned, and probably affords a better idea of the +author, as an actor in the stirring drama of his time, than the "soft +Lydian airs" of the poems that we have quoted. + + + AN HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND. + + The forward youth that would appear + Must now forsake his Muses dear; + Nor in the shadows sing + His numbers languishing. + + 'T is time to leave the books in dust, + And oil the unused armor's rust; + Removing from the wall + The corslet of the hall. + + So restless Cromwell could not cease + In the inglorious arts of peace, + But through adventurous war + Urged his active star. + + And, like the three-forked lightning, first + Breaking the clouds wherein it nurst, + Did thorough his own side + His fiery way divide. + + For 't is all one to courage high, + The emulous, or enemy; + And with such to enclose + Is more than to oppose. + + Then burning through the air he went, + And palaces and temples rent; + And Caesar's head at last + Did through his laurels blast. + + 'T is madness to resist or blame + The face of angry Heaven's flame; + And, if we would speak true, + Much to the man is due, + + Who, from his private gardens, where + He lived reserved and austere, + (As if his highest plot + To plant the bergamot,) + + Could by industrious valor climb + To ruin the great work of time, + And cast the kingdoms old + Into another mould! + + Though justice against fate complain, + And plead the ancient rights in vain,-- + But those do hold or break, + As men are strong or weak. + + Nature, that hateth emptiness, + Allows of penetration less, + And therefore must make room + Where greater spirits come. + + What field of all the civil war, + Where his were not the deepest scar? + And Hampton shows what part + He had of wiser art; + + Where, twining subtle fears with hope, + He wove a net of such a scope, + That Charles himself might chase + To Carisbrook's narrow case; + + That hence the royal actor borne, + The tragic scaffold might adorn, + While round the armed bands + Did clap their bloody hands. + + HE nothing common did or mean + Upon that memorable scene, + But with his keener eye + The axe's edge did try + + Nor called the gods, with vulgar spite, + To vindicate his helpless right! + But bowed his comely head, + Down, as upon a bed. + + This was that memorable hour, + Which first assured the forced power; + So when they did design + The Capitol's first line, + + A bleeding head, where they begun, + Did fright the architects to run; + And yet in that the state + Foresaw its happy fate. + + And now the Irish are ashamed + To see themselves in one year tamed; + So much one man can do, + That does best act and know. + + They can affirm his praises best, + And have, though overcome, confest + How good he is, how just, + And fit for highest trust. + + Nor yet grown stiffer by command, + But still in the Republic's hand, + How fit he is to sway + That can so well obey. + + He to the Commons' feet presents + A kingdom for his first year's rents, + And, what he may, forbears + His fame to make it theirs. + + And has his sword and spoils ungirt, + To lay them at the public's skirt; + So when the falcon high + Falls heavy from the sky, + + She, having killed, no more does search, + But on the next green bough to perch, + Where, when he first does lure, + The falconer has her sure. + + What may not, then, our isle presume, + While Victory his crest does plume? + What may not others fear, + + If thus he crowns each year? + + As Caesar, he, erelong, to Gaul; + To Italy as Hannibal, + And to all states not free + Shall climacteric be. + + The Pict no shelter now shall find + Within his parti-contoured mind; + But from his valor sad + Shrink underneath the plaid, + + Happy if in the tufted brake + The English hunter him mistake, + Nor lay his hands a near + The Caledonian deer. + + But thou, the war's and fortune's son, + March indefatigably on; + And, for the last effect, + Still keep the sword erect. + + Besides the force, it has to fright + The spirits of the shady night + The same arts that did gain + A power, must it maintain. + + +Marvell was never married. The modern critic, who affirms that bachelors +have done the most to exalt women into a divinity, might have quoted his +extravagant panegyric of Maria Fairfax as an apt illustration:-- + + "'T is she that to these gardens gave + The wondrous beauty which they have; + She straitness on the woods bestows, + To her the meadow sweetness owes; + Nothing could make the river be + So crystal pure but only she,-- + She, yet more pure, sweet, strait, and fair, + Than gardens, woods, meals, rivers are + Therefore, what first she on them spent + They gratefully again present: + The meadow carpets where to tread, + The garden flowers to crown her head, + And for a glass the limpid brook + Where she may all her beauties look; + But, since she would not have them seen, + The wood about her draws a screen; + For she, to higher beauty raised, + Disdains to be for lesser praised; + She counts her beauty to converse + In all the languages as hers, + Nor yet in those herself employs, + But for the wisdom, not the noise, + Nor yet that wisdom could affect, + But as 't is Heaven's dialect." + +It has been the fashion of a class of shallow Church and State defenders +to ridicule the great men of the Commonwealth, the sturdy republicans of +England, as sour-featured, hard-hearted ascetics, enemies of the fine +arts and polite literature. The works of Milton and Marvell, the prose- +poem of Harrington, and the admirable discourses of Algernon Sydney are a +sufficient answer to this accusation. To none has it less application +than to the subject of our sketch. He was a genial, warmhearted man, an +elegant scholar, a finished gentleman at home, and the life of every +circle which he entered, whether that of the gay court of Charles II., +amidst such men as Rochester and L'Estrange, or that of the republican +philosophers who assembled at Miles's Coffee House, where he discussed +plans of a free representative government with the author of Oceana, and +Cyriack Skinner, that friend of Milton, whom the bard has immortalized in +the sonnet which so pathetically, yet heroically, alludes to his own +blindness. Men of all parties enjoyed his wit and graceful conversation. +His personal appearance was altogether in his favor. A clear, dark, +Spanish complexion, long hair of jetty blackness falling in graceful +wreaths to his shoulders, dark eyes, full of expression and fire, a +finely chiselled chin, and a mouth whose soft voluptuousness scarcely +gave token of the steady purpose and firm will of the inflexible +statesman: these, added to the prestige of his genius, and the respect +which a lofty, self-sacrificing patriotism extorts even from those who +would fain corrupt and bribe it, gave him a ready passport to the +fashionable society of the metropolis. He was one of the few who mingled +in that society, and escaped its contamination, and who, + + "Amidst the wavering days of sin, + Kept himself icy chaste and pure." + +The tone and temper of his mind may be most fitly expressed in his own +paraphrase of Horace:-- + + "Climb at Court for me that will, + Tottering Favor's pinnacle; + All I seek is to lie still! + Settled in some secret nest, + In calm leisure let me rest; + And, far off the public stage, + Pass away my silent age. + Thus, when, without noise, unknown, + I have lived out all my span, + I shall die without a groan, + An old, honest countryman. + Who, exposed to other's eyes, + Into his own heart ne'er pries, + Death's to him a strange surprise." + +He died suddenly in 1678, while in attendance at a popular meeting of his +old constituents at Hull. His health had previously been remarkably +good; and it was supposed by many that he was poisoned by some of his +political or clerical enemies. His monument, erected by his grateful +constituency, bears the following inscription:-- + + "Near this place lyeth the body of Andrew Marvell, Esq., a man so + endowed by Nature, so improved by Education, Study, and Travel, so + consummated by Experience, that, joining the peculiar graces of Wit + and Learning, with a singular penetration and strength of judgment; + and exercising all these in the whole course of his life, with an + unutterable steadiness in the ways of Virtue, he became the ornament + and example of his age, beloved by good men, feared by bad, admired + by all, though imitated by few; and scarce paralleled by any. But a + Tombstone can neither contain his character, nor is Marble necessary + to transmit it to posterity; it is engraved in the minds of this + generation, and will be always legible in his inimitable writings, + nevertheless. He having served twenty years successfully in + Parliament, and that with such Wisdom, Dexterity, and Courage, as + becomes a true Patriot, the town of Kingston-upon-Hull, from whence + he was deputed to that Assembly, lamenting in his death the public + loss, have erected this Monument of their Grief and their Gratitude, + 1688." + +Thus lived and died Andrew Marvell. His memory is the inheritance of +Americans as well as Englishmen. His example commends itself in an +especial manner to the legislators of our Republic. Integrity and +fidelity to principle are as greatly needed at this time in our halls of +Congress as in the Parliaments of the Restoration; men are required who +can feel, with Milton, that "it is high honor done them from God, and a +special mark of His favor, to have been selected to stand upright and +steadfast in His cause, dignified with the defence of Truth and public +liberty." + + + + +JOHN ROBERTS. + +Thomas Carlyle, in his history of the stout and sagacious Monk of St. +Edmunds, has given us a fine picture of the actual life of Englishmen in +the middle centuries. The dim cell-lamp of the somewhat apocryphal +Jocelin of Brakelond becomes in his hands a huge Drummond-light, shining +over the Dark Ages like the naphtha-fed cressets over Pandemonium, +proving, as he says in his own quaint way, that "England in the year 1200 +was no dreamland, but a green, solid place, which grew corn and several +other things; the sun shone on it; the vicissitudes of seasons and human +fortunes were there; cloth was woven, ditches dug, fallow fields +ploughed, and houses built." And if, as the writer just quoted insists, +it is a matter of no small importance to make it credible to the present +generation that the Past is not a confused dream of thrones and battle- +fields, creeds and constitutions, but a reality, substantial as hearth +and home, harvest-field and smith-shop, merry-making and death, could +make it, we shall not wholly waste our time and that of our readers in +inviting them to look with us at the rural life of England two centuries +ago, through the eyes of John Roberts and his worthy son, Daniel, yeomen, +of Siddington, near Cirencester. + +_The Memoirs of John Roberts, alias Haywood, by his son, Daniel Roberts_, +(the second edition, printed verbatim from the original one, with its +picturesque array of italics and capital letters,) is to be found only in +a few of our old Quaker libraries. It opens with some account of the +family. The father of the elder Roberts "lived reputably, on a little +estate of his own," and it is mentioned as noteworthy that he married a +sister of a gentleman in the Commission of the Peace. Coming of age +about the beginning of the civil wars, John and one of his young +neighbors enlisted in the service of Parliament. Hearing that +Cirencester had been taken by the King's forces, they obtained leave of +absence to visit their friends, for whose safety they naturally felt +solicitous. The following account of the reception they met with from +the drunken and ferocious troopers of Charles I., the "bravos of Alsatia +and the pages of Whitehall," throws a ghastly light upon the horrors of +civil war:-- + +"As they were passing by Cirencester, they were discovered, and pursued +by two soldiers of the King's party, then in possession of the town. +Seeing themselves pursued, they quitted their horses, and took to their +heels; but, by reason of their accoutrements, could make little speed. +They came up with my father first; and, though he begged for quarter, +none they would give him, but laid on him with their swords, cutting and +slashing his hands and arms, which he held up to save his head; as the +marks upon them did long after testify. At length it pleased the +Almighty to put it into his mind to fall down on his face; which he did. +Hereupon the soldiers, being on horseback, cried to each other, _Alight, +and cut his throat_! but neither of them did; yet continued to strike and +prick him about the jaws, till they thought him dead. Then they left +him, and pursued his neighbor, whom they presently overtook and killed. +Soon after they had left my father, it was said in his heart, _Rise, and +flee for thy life_! which call he obeyed; and, starting upon his feet, +his enemies espied him in motion, and pursued him again. He ran down a +steep hill, and through a river which ran at the bottom of it; though +with exceeding difficulty, his boots filling with water, and his wounds +bleeding very much. They followed him to the top of the hill; but, +seeing he had got over, pursued him no farther." + +The surgeon who attended him was a Royalist, and bluntly told his +bleeding patient that if he had met him in the street he would have +killed him himself, but now he was willing to cure him. On his recovery, +young Roberts again entered the army, and continued in it until the +overthrow, of the Monarchy. On his return, he married "Lydia Tindall, +of the denomination of Puritans." A majestic figure rises before us, +on reading the statement that Sir Matthew Hale, afterwards Lord Chief +Justice of England, the irreproachable jurist and judicial saint, was +"his wife's kinsman, and drew her marriage settlement." + +No stronger testimony to the high-toned morality and austere virtue of +the Puritan yeomanry of England can be adduced than the fact that, of the +fifty thousand soldiers who were discharged on the accession of Charles +II., and left to shift for themselves, comparatively few, if any, became +chargeable to their parishes, although at that very time one out of six +of the English population were unable to support themselves. They +carried into their farm-fields and workshops the strict habits of +Cromwell's discipline; and, in toiling to repair their wasted fortunes, +they manifested the same heroic fortitude and self-denial which in war +had made them such formidable and efficient "Soldiers of the Lord." With +few exceptions, they remained steadfast in their uncompromising non- +conformity, abhorring Prelacy and Popery, and entertaining no very +orthodox notions with respect to the divine right of Kings. From them +the Quakers drew their most zealous champions; men who, in renouncing the +"carnal weapons" of their old service, found employment for habitual +combativeness in hot and wordy sectarian warfare. To this day the +vocabulary of Quakerism abounds in the military phrases and figures which +were in use in the Commonwealth's time. Their old force and significance +are now in a great measure lost; but one can well imagine that, in the +assemblies of the primitive Quakers, such stirring battle-cries and +warlike tropes, even when employed in enforcing or illustrating the +doctrines of peace, must have made many a stout heart' to beat quicker, +tinder its drab coloring, with recollections of Naseby and Preston; +transporting many a listener from the benches of his place of worship to +the ranks of Ireton and Lambert, and causing him to hear, in the place of +the solemn and nasal tones of the preacher, the blast of Rupert's bugles, +and the answering shout of Cromwell's pikemen: "Let God arise, and let +his enemies be scattered!" + +Of this class was John Roberts. He threw off his knapsack, and went back +to his small homestead, contented with the privilege of supporting +himself and family by daily toil, and grumbling in concert with his old +campaign brothers at the new order of things in Church and State. To his +apprehension, the Golden Days of England ended with the parade on +Blackheath to receive the restored King. He manifested no reverence for +Bishops and Lords, for he felt none. For the Presbyterians he had no +good will; they had brought in the King, and they denied the liberty of +prophesying. John Milton has expressed the feeling of the Independents +and Anabaptists towards this latter class, in that famous line in which +he defines Presbyter as "old priest writ large." Roberts was by no means +a gloomy fanatic; he had a great deal of shrewdness and humor, loved a +quiet joke; and every gambling priest and swearing magistrate in the +neighborhood stood in fear of his sharp wit. It was quite in course for +such a man to fall in with the Quakers, and he appears to have done so at +the first opportunity. + +In the year 1665, "it pleased the Lord to send two women Friends out of +the North to Cirencester," who, inquiring after such as feared God, were +directed to the house of John Roberts. He received them kindly, and, +inviting in some of his neighbors, sat down with them, whereupon "the +Friends spake a few words, which had a good effect." After the meeting +was over, he was induced to visit a "Friend" then confined in Banbury +jail, whom he found preaching through the grates of his cell to the +people in the street. On seeing Roberts he called to mind the story of +Zaccheus, and declared that the word was now to all who were seeking +Christ by climbing the tree of knowledge, "Come down, come down; for that +which is to be known of God is manifested within." Returning home, he +went soon after to the parish meeting-house, and, entering with his hat +on, the priest noticed him, and, stopping short in his discourse, +declared that he could not go on while one of the congregation wore his +hat. He was thereupon led out of the house, and a rude fellow, stealing +up behind, struck him on the back with a heavy stone. "Take that for +God's sake," said the ruffian. "So I do," answered Roberts, without +looking back to see his assailant, who the next day came and asked his +forgiveness for the injury, as he could not sleep in consequence of it. + +We next find him attending the Quarter Sessions, where three "Friends" +were arraigned for entering Cirencester Church with their hats on. +Venturing to utter a word of remonstrance against the summary proceedings +of the Court, Justice Stephens demanded his name, and, on being told, +exclaimed, in the very tone and temper of Jeffreys: + +"I 've heard of you. I'm glad I have you here. You deserve a stone +doublet. There's many an honester man than you hanged." + +"It may be so," said Roberts, "but what becomes of such as hang honest +men?" + +The Justice snatched a ball of wax and hurled it at the quiet questioner. +"I 'll send you to prison," said he; "and if any insurrection or tumult +occurs, I 'll come and cut your throat with my own sword." A warrant was +made out, and he was forthwith sent to the jail. In the evening, Justice +Sollis, his uncle, released him, on condition of his promise to appear at +the next Sessions. He returned to his home, but in the night following +he was impressed with a belief that it was his duty to visit Justice +Stephens. Early in the morning, with a heavy heart, without eating or +drinking, he mounted his horse and rode towards the residence of his +enemy. When he came in sight of the house, he felt strong misgivings +that his uncle, Justice Sollis, who had so kindly released him, and his +neighbors generally, would condemn him for voluntarily running into +danger, and drawing down trouble upon himself and family. He alighted +from his horse, and sat on the ground in great doubt and sorrow, when a +voice seemed to speak within him, "Go, and I will go with thee." The +Justice met him at the door. "I am come," said Roberts, "in the fear +and dread of Heaven, to warn thee to repent of thy wickedness with speed, +lest the Lord send thee to the pit that is bottomless!" This terrible +summons awed the Justice; he made Roberts sit down on his couch beside +him, declaring that he received the message from God, and asked +forgiveness for the wrong he had done him. + +The parish vicar of Siddington at this time was George Bull, afterwards +Bishop of St. David's, whom Macaulay speaks of as the only rural parish +priest who, during the latter part of the seventeenth century, was noted +as a theologian, or Who possessed a respectable library. Roberts refused +to pay the vicar his tithes, and the vicar sent him to prison. It was +the priest's "Short Method with Dissenters." While the sturdy Non- +conformist lay in prison, he was visited by the great woman of the +neighborhood, Lady Dunch, of Down Amney. "What do you lie in jail for?" +inquired the lady. Roberts replied that it was because he could not put +bread into the mouth of a hireling priest. The lady suggested that he +might let somebody else satisfy the demands of the priest; and that she +had a mind to do this herself, as she wished to talk with him on +religious subjects. To this Roberts objected; there were poor people who +needed her charities, which would be wasted on such devourers as the +priests, who, like Pharaoh's lean kine, were eating up the fat and the +goodly, without looking a whit the better. But the lady, who seems to +have been pleased and amused by the obstinate prisoner, paid the tithe +and the jail fees, and set him at liberty, making him fix a day when he +would visit her. At the time appointed he went to Down Amney, and was +overtaken on the way by the priest of Cirencester, who had been sent for +to meet the Quaker. They found the lady ill in bed; but she had them +brought to her chamber, being determined not to lose the amusement of +hearing a theological discussion, to which she at once urged them, +declaring that it would divert her and do her good. The parson began by +accusing the Quakers of holding Popish doctrines. The Quaker retorted +by telling him that if he would prove the Quakers like the Papists in one +thing, by the help of God, he would prove him like them in ten. After a +brief and sharp dispute, the priest, finding his adversary's wit too keen +for his comfort, hastily took his leave. + +The next we hear of Roberts he is in Gloucester Castle, subjected to the +brutal usage of a jailer, who took a malicious satisfaction in thrusting +decent and respectable Dissenters, imprisoned for matters of conscience, +among felons and thieves. A poor vagabond tinker was hired to play at +night on his hautboy, and prevent their sleeping; but Roberts spoke to +him in such a manner that the instrument fell from his hand; and he told +the jailer that he would play no more, though he should hang him up at +the door for it. + +How he was released from jail does not appear; but the narrative tells us +that some time after an apparitor came to cite him to the Bishop's Court +at Gloucester. When he was brought before the Court, Bishop Nicholson, a +kind-hearted and easy-natured prelate, asked him the number of his +children, and how many of them had been _bishoped_? + +"None, that I know of," said Roberts. + +"What reason," asked the Bishop, "do you give for this?" + +"A very good one," said the Quaker: "most of my children were born in +Oliver's days, when Bishops were out of fashion." + +The Bishop and the Court laughed at this sally, and proceeded to question +him touching his views of baptism. Roberts admitted that John had a +Divine commission to baptize with water, but that he never heard of +anybody else that had. The Bishop reminded him that Christ's disciples +baptized. "What 's that to me?" responded Roberts. "Paul says he was +not sent to baptize, but to preach the Gospel. And if he was not sent, +who required it at his hands? Perhaps he had as little thanks for his +labor as thou hast for thine; and I would willingly know who sent thee to +baptize?" + +The Bishop evaded this home question, and told him he was there to answer +for not coming to church. Roberts denied the charge; sometimes he went +to church, and sometimes it came to him. "I don't call that a church +which you do, which is made of wood and stone." + +"What do you call it?" asked the Bishop. + +"It might be properly called a mass-house," was the reply; "for it was +built for that purpose." The Bishop here told him he might go for the +present; he would take another opportunity to convince him of his errors. + +The next person called was a Baptist minister, who, seeing that Roberts +refused to put off his hat, kept on his also. The Bishop sternly +reminded him that he stood before the King's Court, and the +representative of the majesty of England; and that, while some regard +might be had to the scruples of men who made a conscience of putting off +the hat, such contempt could not be tolerated on the part of one who +could put it off to every mechanic be met. The Baptist pulled off his +hat, and apologized, on the ground of illness. + +We find Roberts next following George Fox on a visit to Bristol. On his +return, reaching his house late in the evening, he saw a man standing in +the moonlight at his door, and knew him to be a bailiff. + +"Hast thou anything against me?" asked Roberts. + +"No," said the bailiff, "I've wronged you enough, God forgive me! Those +who lie in wait for you are my Lord Bishop's bailiffs; they are merciless +rogues. Ever, my master, while you live, please a knave, for an honest +man won't hurt you." + +The next morning, having, as he thought, been warned by a dream to do so, +he went to the Bishop's house at Cleave, near Gloucester. Confronting +the Bishop in his own hall, he told him that he had come to know why he +was hunting after him with his bailiffs, and why he was his adversary. +"The King is your adversary," said the Bishop; "you have broken the +King's law." Roberts ventured to deny the justice of the law. "What!" +cried the Bishop, "do such men as you find fault with the laws?" "Yes," +replied the other, stoutly; "and I tell thee plainly to thy face, it is +high time wiser men were chosen, to make better laws." + +The discourse turning upon the Book of Common Prayer, Roberts asked the +Bishop if the sin of idolatry did not consist in worshipping the work of +men's hands. The Bishop admitted it, as in the case of Nebuchadnezzar's +image. + +"Then," said Roberts, "whose hands made your Prayer Book? It could not +make itself." + +"Do you compare our Prayer Book to Nebuchadnezzar's image?" cried the +Bishop. + +"Yes," returned Roberts, "that was his image; this is thine. I no more +dare bow to thy Common-Prayer Book than the Three Children to +Nebuchadnezzar's image." + +"Yours is a strange upstart religion," said the Bishop. + +Roberts told him it was older than his by several hundred years. At this +claim of antiquity the prelate was greatly amused, and told Roberts that +if he would make out his case, he should speed the better for it. + +"Let me ask thee," said Roberts, "where thy religion was in Oliver's +days, when thy Common-Prayer Book was as little regarded as an old +almanac, and your priests, with a few honest exceptions, turned with the +tide, and if Oliver had put mass in their mouths would have conformed to +it for the sake of their bellies." + +"What would you have us do?" asked the Bishop. "Would you have had +Oliver cut our throats?" + +"No," said Roberts; "but what sort of religion was that which you were +afraid to venture your throats for?" + +The Bishop interrupted him to say, that in Oliver's days he had never +owned any other religion than his own, although he did not dare to openly +maintain it as he then did. + +"Well," continued Roberts, "if thou didst not think thy religion worth +venturing thy throat for then, I desire thee to consider that it is not +worth the cutting of other men's throats now for not conforming to it." + +"You are right," responded the frank Bishop. "I hope we shall have a +care how we cut men's throats." + +The following colloquy throws some light on the condition and character +of the rural clergy at this period, and goes far to confirm the +statements of Macaulay, which many have supposed exaggerated. Baxter's +early religious teachers were more exceptionable than even the maudlin +mummer whom Roberts speaks of, one of them being "the excellentest stage- +player in all the country, and a good gamester and goodfellow, who, +having received Holy Orders, forged the like for a neighbor's son, who on +the strength of that title officiated at the desk and altar; and after +him came an attorney's clerk, who had tippled himself into so great +poverty that he had no other way to live than to preach." + +J. ROBERTS. I was bred up under a Common-Prayer Priest; and a poor +drunken old Man he was. Sometimes he was so drunk he could not say his +Prayers, and at best he could but say them; though I think he was by far +a better Man than he that is Priest there now. + +BISHOP. Who is your Minister now? + +J. ROBERTS. My Minister is Christ Jesus, the Minister of the everlasting +Covenant; but the present Priest of the Parish is George Bull. + +BISHOP. Do you say that drunken old Man was better than Mr. Bull? I +tell you, I account Mr. Bull as sound, able, and orthodox a Divine as any +we have among us. + +J. ROBERT. I am sorry for that; for if he be one of the best of you, I +believe the Lord will not suffer you long; for he is a proud, ambitious, +ungodly Man: he hath often sued me at Law, and brought his Servants to +swear against me wrongfully. His Servants themselves have confessed to +my Servants, that I might have their Ears; for their Master made them +drunk, and then told them they were set down in the List as Witnesses +against me, and they must swear to it: And so they did, and brought +treble Damages. They likewise owned they took Tithes from my Servants, +threshed them out, and sold them for their Master. They have also +several Times took my Cattle out of my Grounds, drove them to Fairs and +Markets, and sold them, without giving me any Account. + +BISHOP. I do assure you I will inform Mr. Bull of what you say. + +J. ROBERTS. Very well. And if thou pleasest to send for me to face him, +I shall make much more appear to his Face than I'll say behind his Back. + +After much more discourse, Roberts told the Bishop that if it would do +him any good to have him in jail, he would voluntarily go and deliver +himself up to the keeper of Gloucester Castle. The good-natured prelate +relented at this, and said he should not be molested or injured, and +further manifested his good will by ordering refreshments. One of the +Bishop's friends who was present was highly offended by the freedom of +Roberts with his Lordship, and undertook to rebuke him, but was so +readily answered that he flew into a rage. "If all the Quakers in +England," said he, "are not hanged in a month's time, I 'll be hanged for +them." "Prithee, friend," quoth Roberts, "remember and be as good as thy +word!" + +Good old Bishop Nicholson, it would seem, really liked his incorrigible +Quaker neighbor, and could enjoy heartily his wit and humor, even when +exercised at the expense of his own ecclesiastical dignity. He admired +his blunt honesty and courage. Surrounded by flatterers and self- +seekers, he found satisfaction in the company and conversation of one +who, setting aside all conventionalisms, saw only in my Lord Bishop a +poor fellow-probationer, and addressed him on terms of conscious +equality. The indulgence which he extended to him naturally enough +provoked many of the inferior clergy, who had been sorely annoyed by the +sturdy Dissenter's irreverent witticisms and unsparing ridicule. Vicar +Bull, of Siddington, and Priest Careless, of Cirencester, in particular, +urged the Bishop to deal sharply with him. The former accused him of +dealing in the Black Art, and filled the Bishop's ear with certain +marvellous stories of his preternatural sagacity and discernment in +discovering cattle which were lost. The Bishop took occasion to inquire +into these stories; and was told by Roberts that, except in a single +instance, the discoveries were the result of his acquaintance with the +habits of animals and his knowledge of the localities where they were +lost. The circumstance alluded to, as an exception, will be best related +in his own words. + +"I had a poor Neighbor, who had a Wife and six Children, and whom the +chief men about us permitted to keep six or seven Cows upon the Waste, +which were the principal Support of the Family, and preserved them from +becoming chargeable to the Parish. One very stormy night the Cattle were +left in the Yard as usual, but could not be found in the morning. The +Man and his Sons had sought them to no purpose; and, after they had been +lost four days, his Wife came to me, and, in a great deal of grief, +cried, 'O Lord! Master Hayward, we are undone! My Husband and I must go +a begging in our old age! We have lost all our Cows. My Husband and the +Boys have been round the country, and can hear nothing of them. I'll +down on my bare knees, if you'll stand our Friend!' I desired she would +not be in such an agony, and told her she should not down on her knees to +me; but I would gladly help them in what I could. 'I know,' said she, +'you are a good Man, and God will hear your Prayers.' I desire thee, +said I, to be still and quiet in thy mind; perhaps thy Husband or Sons +may hear of them to-day; if not, let thy Husband get a horse, and come to +me to-morrow morning as soon as he will; and I think, if it please God, +to go with him to seek then. The Woman seemed transported with joy, +crying, 'Then we shall have our Cows again.' Her Faith being so strong, +brought the greater Exercise on me, with strong cries to the Lord, that +he would be pleased to make me instrumental in his Hand, for the help of +the poor Family. In the Morning early comes the old Man. In the Name of +God, says he, which way shall we go to seek them? I, being deeply +concerned in my Mind, did not answer him till he had thrice repeated it; +and then I answered, In the Name of God, I would go to seek them; and +said (before I was well aware) we will go to Malmsbury, and at the Horse- +Fair we shall find them. When I had spoken the Words, I was much +troubled lest they should not prove true. It was very early, and the +first Man we saw, I asked him if he had seen any stray Milch Cows +thereabouts. What manner of Cattle are they? said he. And the old Man +describing their Mark and Number, he told us there were some stood +chewing their Cuds in the Horse-Fair; but thinking they belonged to some +in the Neighborhood, he did not take particular Notice of them. When we +came to the Place, the old Man found them to be his; but suffered his +Transports of Joy to rise so high, that I was ashamed of his behavior; +for he fell a hallooing, and threw up his Montier Cap in the Air several +times, till he raised the Neighbors out of their Beds to see what was the +Matter. 'O!' said he, 'I had lost my Cows four or five days ago, and +thought I should never see them again; and this honest Neighbor of mine +told me this Morning, by his own Fire's Side, nine Miles off, that here +I should find them, and here I have them!' Then up goes his Cap again. +I begged of the poor Man to be quiet, and take his Cows home, and be +thankful; as indeed I was, being reverently bowed in my Spirit before the +Lord, in that he was pleased to put the words of Truth into my mouth. +And the Man drove his Cattle home, to the great Joy of his Family." + +Not long after the interview with the Bishop at his own palace, which has +been related, that dignitary, with the Lord Chancellor, in their coaches, +and about twenty clergymen on horseback, made a call at the humble +dwelling of Roberts, on their way to Tedbury, where the Bishop was to +hold a Visitation. "I could not go out of the country without seeing +you," said the prelate, as the farmer came to his coach door and pressed +him to alight. + +"John," asked Priest Evans, the Bishop's kinsman, "is your house free to +entertain such men as we are?" + +"Yes, George," said Roberts; "I entertain honest men, and sometimes +others." + +"My Lord," said Evans, turning to the Bishop, "John's friends are the +honest men, and we are the others." + +The Bishop told Roberts that they could not then alight, but would gladly +drink with him; whereupon the good wife brought out her best beer. +"I commend you, John," quoth the Bishop, as he paused from his hearty +draught; "you keep a cup of good beer in your house. I have not drank +any that has pleased me better since I left home." The cup passed next +to the Chancellor, and finally came to Priest Bull, who thrust it aside, +declaring that it was full of hops and heresy. As to hops, Roberts +replied, he could not say, but as for heresy, he bade the priest take +note that the Lord Bishop had drank of it, and had found no heresy in the +cup. + +The Bishop leaned over his coach door and whispered: "John, I advise you +to take care you don't offend against the higher Powers. I have heard +great complaints against you, that you are the Ringleader of the Quakers +in this Country; and that, if you are not suppressed, all will signify +nothing. Therefore, pray, John, take care, for the future, you don't +offend any more." + +"I like thy Counsel very well," answered Roberts, "and intend to take it. +But thou knowest God is the higher Power; and you mortal Men, however +advanced in this World, are but the lower Power; and it is only because I +endeavor to be obedient to the will of the higher Powers, that the lower +Powers are angry with me. But I hope, with the assistance of God, to +take thy Counsel, and be subject to the higher Powers, let the lower +Powers do with me as it may please God to suffer them." + +The Bishop then said he would like to talk with him further, and +requested him to meet him at Tedbury the next day. At the time +appointed, Roberts went to the inn where the Bishop lodged, and was +invited to dine with him. After dinner was over, the prelate told him +that he must go to church, and leave off holding conventicles at his +house, of which great complaint was made. This he flatly refused to do; +and the Bishop, losing patience, ordered the constable to be sent for. +Roberts told him that if, after coming to his house under the guise of +friendship, he should betray him and send him to prison, he, who had +hitherto commended him for his moderation, would put his name in print, +and cause it to stink before all sober people. It was the priests, he +told him, who set him on; but, instead of hearkening to them, he should +commend them to some honest vocation, and not suffer them to rob their +honest neighbors, and feed on the fruits of other men's toil, like +caterpillars. + +"Whom do you call caterpillars?" cried Priest Rich, of North Surrey. + +"We farmers," said Roberts, "call those so who live on other men's +fields, and by the sweat of other men's brows; and if thou dost so, thou +mayst be one of them." + +This reply so enraged the Bishop's attendants that they could only be +appeased by an order for the constable to take him to jail. In fact, +there was some ground for complaint of a lack of courtesy on the part of +the blunt farmer; and the Christian virtue of forbearance, even in +Bishops, has its limits. + +The constable, obeying the summons, came to the inn, at the door of which +the landlady met him. "What do you here!" cried the good woman, "when +honest John is going to be sent to prison? Here, come along with me." +The constable, nothing loath, followed her into a private room, where she +concealed him. Word was sent to the Bishop, that the constable was not +to be found; and the prelate, telling Roberts he could send him to jail +in the afternoon, dismissed him until evening. At the hour appointed, +the latter waited upon the Bishop, and found with him only one priest and +a lay gentleman. The priest begged the Bishop to be allowed to discourse +with the prisoner; and, leave being granted, he began by telling Roberts +that the knowledge of the Scriptures had made him mad, and that it was a +great pity he had ever seen them. + +"Thou art an unworthy man," said the Quaker, "and I 'll not dispute with +thee. If the knowledge of the Scriptures has made me mad, the knowledge +of the sack-pot hath almost made thee mad; and if we two madmen should +dispute about religion, we should make mad work of it." + +"An 't please you, my Lord," said the scandalized priest, "he says I 'm +drunk." + +The Bishop asked Roberts to repeat his words; and, instead of +reprimanding him, as the priest expected, was so much amused that he held +up his hands and laughed; whereupon the offended inferior took a hasty +leave. The Bishop, who was evidently glad to be rid of him, now turned +to Roberts, and complained that he had dealt hardly with him, in telling +him, before so many gentlemen, that he had sought to betray him by +professions of friendship, in order to send him to prison; and that, +if he had not done as he did, people would have reported him as an +encourager of the Quakers. "But now, John," said the good prelate, "I'll +burn the warrant against you before your face." "You know, Mr. Burnet," +he continued, addressing his attendant, "that a Ring of Bells may be made +of excellent metal, but they may be out of tune; so we may say of John: +he is a man of as good metal as I ever met with, but quite out of tune." + +"Thou mayst well say so," quoth Roberts, "for I can't tune after thy +pipe." + +The inferior clergy were by no means so lenient as the Bishop. They +regarded Roberts as the ringleader of Dissent, an impracticable, +obstinate, contumacious heretic, not only refusing to pay them tithes +himself, but encouraging others to the same course. Hence, they thought +it necessary to visit upon him the full rigor of the law. His crops were +taken from his field, and his cattle from his yard. He was often +committed to the jail, where, on one occasion, he was kept, with many +others, for a long time, through the malice of the jailer, who refused to +put the names of his prisoners in the Calendar, that they might have a +hearing. But the spirit of the old Commonwealth's man remained +steadfast. When Justice George, at the Ram in Cirencester, told him he +must conform, and go to church, or suffer the penalty of the law, he +replied that he had heard indeed that some were formerly whipped out of +the Temple, but he had never heard of any being whipped in. The Justice, +pointing, through the open window of the inn, at the church tower, asked +him what that was. "Thou mayst call it a daw-house," answered the +incorrigible Quaker. "Dost thou not see how the jackdaws flock about +it?" + +Sometimes it happened that the clergyman was also a magistrate, and +united in his own person the authority of the State and the zeal of the +Church. Justice Parsons, of Gloucester, was a functionary of this sort. +He wielded the sword of the Spirit on the Sabbath against Dissenters, and +on week days belabored them with the arm of flesh and the constable's +staff. At one time he had between forty and fifty of them locked up in +Gloucester Castle, among them Roberts and his sons, on the charge of +attending conventicles. But the troublesome prisoners baffled his +vigilance, and turned their prison into a meeting-house, and held their +conventicles in defiance of him. The Reverend Justice pounced upon them +on one occasion, with his attendants. An old, gray-haired man, formerly +a strolling fencing-master, was preaching when he came in. The Justice +laid hold of him by his white locks, and strove to pull him down, but the +tall fencing-raster stood firm and spoke on; he then tried to gag him, +but failed in that also. He demanded the names of the prisoners, but no +one answered him. A voice (we fancy it was that of our old friend +Roberts) called out: "The Devil must be hard put to it to have his +drudgery done, when the Priests must leave their pulpits to turn +informers against poor prisoners." The Justice obtained a list of the +names of the prisoners, made out on their commitment, and, taking it for +granted that all were still present, issued warrants for the collection +of fines by levies upon their estates. Among the names was that of a +poor widow, who had been discharged, and was living, at the time the +clerical magistrate swore she was at the meeting, twenty miles distant +from the prison. + +Soon after this event, our old friend fell sick. He had been discharged +from prison, but his sons were still confined. The eldest had leave, +however, to attend him in his illness, and he bears his testimony that +the Lord was pleased to favor his father with His living presence in his +last moments. In keeping with the sturdy Non-conformist's life, he was +interred at the foot of his own orchard, in Siddington, a spot he had +selected for a burial-ground long before, where neither the foot of a +priest nor the shadow of a steeple-house could rest upon his grave. + +In closing our notice of this pleasant old narrative, we may remark that +the light it sheds upon the antagonistic religious parties of the time is +calculated to dissipate prejudices and correct misapprehensions, common +alike to Churchmen and Dissenters. The genial humor, sound sense, and +sterling virtues of the Quaker farmer should teach the one class that +poor James Nayler, in his craziness and folly, was not a fair +representative of his sect; while the kind nature, the hearty +appreciation of goodness, and the generosity and candor of Bishop +Nicholson should convince the other class that a prelate is not +necessarily, and by virtue of his mitre, a Laud or a Bonner. The +Dissenters of the seventeenth century may well be forgiven for the +asperity of their language; men whose ears had been cropped because they +would not recognize Charles I. as a blessed martyr, and his scandalous +son as the head of the Church, could scarcely be expected to make +discriminations, or suggest palliating circumstances, favorable to any +class of their adversaries. To use the homely but apt simile of +McFingal, + + "The will's confirmed by treatment horrid, + As hides grow harder when they're curried." + +They were wronged, and they told the world of it. Unlike Shakespeare's +cardinal, they did not die without a sign. They branded, by their fierce +epithets, the foreheads of their persecutors more deeply than the +sheriff's hot iron did their own. If they lost their ears, they enjoyed +the satisfaction of making those of their oppressors tingle. Knowing +their persecutors to be in the wrong, they did not always inquire whether +they themselves had been entirely right, and had done no unrequired works +of supererogation by the way of "testimony" against their neighbors' mode +cf worship. And so from pillory and whipping-post, from prison and +scaffold, they sent forth their wail and execration, their miserere and +anathema, and the sound thereof has reached down to our day. May it +never wholly die away until, the world over, the forcing of conscience is +regarded as a crime against humanity and a usurpation of God's +prerogative. But abhorring, as we must, persecution under whatever +pretext it is employed, we are not, therefore, to conclude that all +persecutors were bad and unfeeling men. Many of their severities, upon +which we now look back with horror, were, beyond a question, the result +of an intense anxiety for the well-being of immortal souls, endangered by +the poison which, in their view, heresy was casting into the waters of +life. Coleridge, in one of the moods of a mind which traversed in +imagination the vast circle of human experience, reaches this point in +his Table-Talk. "It would require," says he, "stronger arguments than +any I have seen to convince me that men in authority have not a right, +involved in an imperative duty, to deter those under their control from +teaching or countenancing doctrines which they believe to be damnable, +and even to punish with death those who violate such prohibition." It +would not be very difficult for us to imagine a tender-hearted Inquisitor +of this stamp, stifling his weak compassion for the shrieking wretch +under bodily torment by his strong pity for souls in danger of perdition +from the sufferer's heresy. We all know with what satisfaction the +gentle-spirited Melanethon heard of the burning of Servetus, and with +what zeal he defended it. The truth is, the notion that an intellectual +recognition of certain dogmas is the essential condition of salvation +lies at the bottom of all intolerance in matters of religion. Under this +impression, men are too apt to forget that the great end of Christianity +is love, and that charity is its crowning virtue; they overlook the +beautiful significance of the parable of the heretic Samaritan and the +orthodox Pharisee: and thus, by suffering their speculative opinions of +the next world to make them uncharitable and cruel in this, they are +really the worse for them, even admitting them to be true. + + + + +SAMUEL HOPKINS. + +Three quarters of a century ago, the name of Samuel Hopkins was as +familiar as a household word throughout New England. It was a spell +wherewith to raise at once a storm of theological controversy. The +venerable minister who bore it had his thousands of ardent young +disciples, as well as defenders and followers of mature age and +acknowledged talent; a hundred pulpits propagated the dogmas which he had +engrafted on the stock of Calvinism. Nor did he lack numerous and +powerful antagonists. The sledge ecclesiastic, with more or less effect, +was unceasingly plied upon the strong-linked chain of argument which he +slowly and painfully elaborated in the seclusion of his parish. The +press groaned under large volumes of theological, metaphysical, and +psychological disquisition, the very thought of which is now "a weariness +to the flesh;" in rapid succession pamphlet encountered pamphlet, horned, +beaked, and sharp of talon, grappling with each other in mid-air, like +Milton's angels. That loud controversy, the sound whereof went over +Christendom, awakening responses from beyond the Atlantic, has now died +away; its watchwords no longer stir the blood of belligerent sermonizers; +its very terms and definitions have well-nigh become obsolete and +unintelligible. The hands which wrote and the tongues which spoke in +that day are now all cold and silent; even Emmons, the brave old +intellectual athlete of Franklin, now sleeps with his fathers,--the last +of the giants. Their fame is still in all the churches; effeminate +clerical dandyism still affects to do homage to their memories; the +earnest young theologian, exploring with awe the mountainous debris of +their controversial lore, ponders over the colossal thoughts entombed +therein, as he would over the gigantic fossils of an early creation, and +endeavors in vain to recall to the skeleton abstractions before him the +warm and vigorous life wherewith they were once clothed; but +Hopkinsianism, as a distinct and living school of philosophy, theology, +and metaphysics, no longer exists. It has no living oracles left; and +its memory survives only in the doctrinal treatises of the elder and +younger Edwards, Hopkins, Bellamy, and Emmons. + +It is no part of our present purpose to discuss the merits of the system +in question. Indeed, looking at the great controversy which divided New +England Calvinism in the eighteenth century, from a point of view which +secures our impartiality and freedom from prejudice, we find it +exceedingly difficult to get a precise idea of what was actually at +issue. To our poor comprehension, much of the dispute hinges upon names +rather than things; on the manner of reaching conclusions quite as much +as upon the conclusions themselves. Its origin may be traced to the +great religious awakening of the middle of the past century, when the +dogmas of the Calvinistic faith were subjected to the inquiry of acute +and earnest minds, roused up from the incurious ease and passive +indifference of nominal orthodoxy. Without intending it, it broke down +some of the barriers which separated Arminianism and Calvinism; its +product, Hopkinsianism, while it pushed the doctrine of the Genevan +reformer on the subject of the Divine decrees and agency to that extreme +point where it well-nigh loses itself in Pantheism, held at the same time +that guilt could not be hereditary; that man, being responsible for his +sinful acts, and not for his sinful nature, can only be justified by a +personal holiness, consisting not so much in legal obedience as in that +disinterested benevolence which prefers the glory of God and the welfare +of universal being above the happiness of self. It had the merit, +whatever it may be, of reducing the doctrines of the Reformation to an +ingenious and scholastic form of theology; of bringing them boldly to the +test of reason and philosophy. Its leading advocates were not mere +heartless reasoners and closet speculators. They taught that sin was +selfishness, and holiness self-denying benevolence, and they endeavored +to practise accordingly. Their lives recommended their doctrines. They +were bold and faithful in the discharge of what they regarded as duty. +In the midst of slave-holders, and in an age of comparative darkness on +the subject of human rights, Hopkins and the younger Edwards lifted up +their voices for the slave. And twelve years ago, when Abolitionism was +everywhere spoken against, and the whole land was convulsed with mobs to +suppress it, the venerable Emmons, burdened with the weight of ninety +years, made a journey to New York, to attend a meeting of the Anti- +Slavery Society. Let those who condemn the creed of these men see to +it that they do not fall behind them in practical righteousness and +faithfulness to the convictions of duty. + +Samuel Hopkins, who gave his name to the religious system in question, +was born in Waterbury, Connecticut, in 1721. In his fifteenth year he +was placed under the care of a neighboring clergyman, preparatory for +college, which he entered about a year after. In 1740, the celebrated +Whitefield visited New Haven, and awakened there, as elsewhere, serious +inquiry on religious subjects. He was followed the succeeding spring by +Gilbert Tennent, the New Jersey revivalist, a stirring and powerful +preacher. A great change took place in the college. All the phenomena +which President Edwards has described in his account of the Northampton +awakening were reproduced among the students. The excellent David +Brainard, then a member of the college, visited Hopkins in his apartment, +and, by a few plain and earnest words, convinced him that he was a +stranger to vital Christianity. In his autobiographical sketch, he +describes in simple and affecting language the dark and desolate state of +his mind at this period, and the particular exercise which finally +afforded him some degree of relief, and which he afterwards appears to +have regarded as his conversion from spiritual death to life. When he +first heard Tennent, regarding him as the greatest as well as the best of +men, he made up his mind to study theology with him; but just before the +commencement at which he was to take his degree, the elder Edwards +preached at New Haven. Struck by the power of the great theologian, he +at once resolved to make him his spiritual father. In the winter +following, he left his father's house on horseback, on a journey of +eighty miles to Northampton. Arriving at the house of President Edwards, +he was disappointed by hearing that he was absent on a preaching tour. +But he was kindly received by the gifted and accomplished lady of the +mansion, and encouraged to remain during the winter. Still doubtful in +respect to his own spiritual state, he was, he says, "very gloomy, and +retired most of the time in his chamber." The kind heart of his amiable +hostess was touched by his evident affliction. After some days she came +to his chamber, and, with the gentleness and delicacy of a true woman, +inquired into the cause of his unhappiness. The young student disclosed +to her, without reserve, the state of his feelings and the extent of his +fears. "She told me," says the Doctor, "that she had had peculiar +exercises respecting me since I had been in the family; that she trusted +I should receive light and comfort, and doubted not that God intended yet +to do great things by me." + +After pursuing his studies for some months with the Puritan philosopher, +young Hopkins commenced preaching, and, in 1743, was ordained at +Sheffield, (now Great Barrington') in the western part of Massachusetts. +There were at the time only about thirty families in the town. He says +it was a matter of great regret to him to be obliged to settle so far +from his spiritual guide and tutor but seven years after he was relieved +and gratified by the removal of Edwards to Stockbridge, as the Indian +missionary at that station, seven miles only from his own residence; and +for several years the great metaphysician and his favorite pupil enjoyed +the privilege of familiar intercourse with each other. The removal of +the former in 1758 to Princeton, New Jersey, and his death, which soon +followed, are mentioned in the diary of Hopkins as sore trials and +afflictive dispensations. + +Obtaining a dismissal from his society in Great Barrington in 1769, +he was installed at Newport the next year, as minister of the first +Congregational church in that place. Newport, at this period, was, in +size, wealth, and commercial importance, the second town in New England. +It was the great slave mart of the North. Vessels loaded with stolen men +and women and children, consigned to its merchant princes, lay at its +wharves; immortal beings were sold daily in its market, like cattle at a +fair. The soul of Hopkins was moved by the appalling spectacle. A +strong conviction of the great wrong of slavery, and of its utter +incompatibility with the Christian profession, seized upon his mind. +While at Great Barrington, he had himself owned a slave, whom he had sold +on leaving the place, without compunction or suspicion in regard to the +rightfulness of the transaction. He now saw the origin of the system in +its true light; he heard the seamen engaged in the African trade tell of +the horrible scenes of fire and blood which they had witnessed, and in +which they had been actors; he saw the half-suffocated wretches brought +up from their noisome and narrow prison, their squalid countenances and +skeleton forms bearing fearful evidence of the suffering attendant upon +the transportation from their native homes. The demoralizing effects of +slaveholding everywhere forced themselves upon his attention, for the +evil had struck its roots deeply in the community, and there were few +families into which it had not penetrated. The right to deal in slaves, +and use them as articles of property, was questioned by no one; men of +all professions, clergymen and church-members, consulted only their +interest and convenience as to their purchase or sale. The magnitude of +the evil at first appalled him; he felt it to be his duty to condemn it, +but for a time even his strong spirit faltered and turned pale in +contemplation of the consequences to be apprehended from an attack upon +it. Slavery and slave-trading were at that time the principal source of +wealth to the island; his own church and congregation were personally +interested in the traffic; all were implicated in its guilt. He stood +alone, as it were, in its condemnation; with here and there an exception, +all Christendom maintained the rightfulness of slavery. No movement had +yet been made in England against the slave-trade; the decision of +Granville Sharp's Somerset case had not yet taken place. The Quakers, +even, had not at that time redeemed themselves from the opprobrium. +Under these circumstances, after a thorough examination of the subject, +he resolved, in the strength of the Lord, to take his stand openly and +decidedly on the side of humanity. He prepared a sermon for the purpose, +and for the first time from a pulpit of New England was heard an emphatic +testimony against the sin of slavery. In contrast with the unselfish and +disinterested benevolence which formed in his mind the essential element +of Christian holiness, he held up the act of reducing human beings to the +condition of brutes, to minister to the convenience, the luxury, and +lusts of the owner. He had expected bitter complaint and opposition from +his hearers, but was agreeably surprised to find that in most cases his +sermon only excited astonishment in their minds that they themselves had +never before looked at the subject in the light in which he presented it. +Steadily and faithfully pursuing the matter, he had the satisfaction to +carry with him his church, and obtain from it, in the midst of a +slaveholding and slavetrading community, a resolution every way worthy of +note in this day of cowardly compromise with the evil on the part of our +leading ecclesiastical bodies:-- + +"Resolved, That the slave-trade and the slavery of the Africans, as it +has existed among us, is a gross violation of the righteousness and +benevolence which are so much inculcated in the Gospel, and therefore we +will not tolerate it in this church." + +There are few instances on record of moral heroism superior to that of +Samuel Hopkins, in thus rebuking slavery in the time and place of its +power. Honor to the true man ever, who takes his life in his hands, and, +at all hazards, speaks the word which is given him to utter, whether men +will hear or forbear, whether the end thereof is to be praise or censure, +gratitude or hatred. It well may be doubted whether on that Sabbath day +the angels of God, in their wide survey of His universe, looked upon a +nobler spectacle than that of the minister of Newport, rising up before +his slaveholding congregation, and demanding, in the name of the Highest, +the "deliverance of the captive, and the opening of prison doors to them +that were bound." + +Dr. Hopkins did not confine his attention solely to slaveholding in his +own church and congregation. He entered into correspondence with the +early Abolitionists of Europe as well as his own country. He labored +with his brethren in the ministry to bring then to his own view of the +great wrong of holding men as slaves. In a visit to his early friend, +Dr. Bellamy, at Bethlehem, who was the owner of a slave, he pressed the +subject kindly but earnestly upon his attention. Dr. Bellamy urged the +usual arguments in favor of slavery. Dr. Hopkins refuted them in the +most successful manner, and called upon his friend to do an act of simple +justice, in giving immediate freedom to his slave. Dr. Bellamy, thus +hardly pressed, said that the slave was a most judicious and faithful +fellow; that, in the management of his farm, he could trust everything to +his discretion; that he treated him well, and he was so happy in his +service that he would refuse his freedom if it were offered him. + +"Will you," said Hopkins, "consent to his liberation, if he really +desires it?" + +"Yes, certainly," said Dr. Bellamy. + +"Then let us try him," said his guest. + +The slave was at work in an adjoining field, and at the call of his +master came promptly to receive his commands. + +"Have you a good master?" inquired Hopkins. + +"O yes; massa, he berry good." + +"But are you happy in your present condition?" queried the Doctor. + +"O yes, massa; berry happy." + +Dr. Bellamy here could scarcely suppress his exultation at what he +supposed was a complete triumph over his anti-slavery brother. But the +pertinacious guest continued his queries. + +"Would you not be more happy if you were free?" + +"O yes, massa," exclaimed the negro, his dark face glowing with new life; +"berry much more happy!" + +To the honor of Dr. Bellamy, he did not hesitate. + +"You have your wish," he said to his servant. "From this moment you are +free." + +Dr. Hopkins was a poor man, but one of his first acts, after becoming +convinced of the wrongfulness of slavery, was to appropriate the very sum +which, in the days of his ignorance, he had obtained as the price of his +slave to the benevolent purpose of educating some pious colored men in +the town of Newport, who were desirous of returning to their native +country as missionaries. In one instance he borrowed, on his own +responsibility, the sum requisite to secure the freedom of a slave in +whom he became interested. One of his theological pupils was Newport +Gardner, who, twenty years after the death of his kind patron, left +Boston as a missionary to Africa. He was a native African, and was held +by Captain Gardner, of Newport, who allowed him to labor for his own +benefit, whenever by extra diligence he could gain a little time for that +purpose. The poor fellow was in the habit of laying up his small +earnings on these occasions, in the faint hope of one day obtaining +thereby the freedom of himself and his family. But time passed on, and +the hoard of purchase-money still looked sadly small. He concluded to +try the efficacy of praying. Having gained a day for himself, by severe +labor, and communicating his plan only to Dr. Hopkins and two or three +other Christian friends, he shut himself up in his humble dwelling, and +spent the time in prayer for freedom. Towards the close of the day, his +master sent for him. He was told that this was his gained time, and that +he was engaged for himself. "No matter," returned the master, "I must +see him." Poor Newport reluctantly abandoned his supplications, and came +at his master's bidding, when, to his astonishment, instead of a +reprimand, he received a paper, signed by his master, declaring him and +his family from thenceforth free. He justly attributed this signal +blessing to the all-wise Disposer, who turns the hearts of men as the +rivers of water are turned; but it cannot be doubted that the labors and +arguments of Dr. Hopkins with his master were the human instrumentality +in effecting it. + +In the year 1773, in connection with Dr. Ezra Stiles, he issued an appeal +to the Christian community in behalf of a society which he had been +instrumental in forming, for the purpose of educating missionaries for +Africa. In the desolate and benighted condition of that unhappy +continent he had become painfully interested, by conversing with the +slaves brought into Newport. Another appeal was made on the subject in +1776. + +The war of the Revolution interrupted, for a time, the philanthropic +plans of Dr. Hopkins. The beautiful island on which he lived was at an +early period exposed to the exactions and devastations of the enemy. All +who could do so left it for the mainland. Its wharves were no longer +thronged with merchandise; its principal dwellings stood empty; the very +meeting houses were in a great measure abandoned. Dr. Hopkins, who had +taken the precaution, at the commencement of hostilities, to remove his +family to Great Barrington, remained himself until the year 1776, when +the British took possession of the island. During the period of its +occupation, he was employed in preaching to destitute congregations. +He spent the summer of 1777 at Newburyport, where his memory is still +cherished by the few of his hearers who survive. In the spring of 1780, +he returned to Newport. Everything had undergone a melancholy change. +The garden of New England lay desolate. His once prosperous and wealthy +church and congregation were now poor, dispirited, and, worst of all, +demoralized. His meeting-house had been used as a barrack for soldiers; +pulpit and pews had been destroyed; the very bell had been stolen. +Refusing, with his characteristic denial of self, a call to settle in a +more advantageous position, he sat himself down once more in the midst of +his reduced and impoverished parishioners, and, with no regular salary, +dependent entirely on such free-will offerings as from time to time were +made him, he remained with them until his death. + +In 1776, Dr. Hopkins published his celebrated "Dialogue concerning the +Slavery of the Africans; showing it to be the Duty and Interest of the +American States to Emancipate all their Slaves." This he dedicated to +the Continental Congress, the Signers of the Declaration of Independence. +It was republished in 1785, by the New York Abolition Society, and was +widely circulated. A few years after, on coming unexpectedly into +possession of a few hundred dollars, he devoted immediately one hundred +of it to the society for ameliorating the condition of the Africans. + +He continued to preach until he had reached his eighty-third year. His +last sermon was delivered on the 16th of the tenth month, 1803, and his +death took place in the twelfth month following. He died calmly, in the +steady faith of one who had long trusted all things in the hand of God. +"The language of my heart is," said he, "let God be glorified by all +things, and the best interest of His kingdom promoted, whatever becomes +of me or my interest." To a young friend, who visited him three days +before his death, he said, "I am feeble and cannot say much. I have said +all I can say. With my last words, I tell you, religion is the one thing +needful." "And now," he continued, affectionately pressing the hand of +his friend, "I am going to die, and I am glad of it." Many years before, +an agreement had been made between Dr. Hopkins and his old and tried +friend, Dr. Hart, of Connecticut, that when either was called home, the +survivor should preach the funeral sermon of the deceased. The venerable +Dr. Hart accordingly came, true to his promise, preaching at the funeral +from the words of Elisha, "My father, my father; the chariots of Israel, +and the horsemen thereof." In the burial-ground adjoining his meeting- +house lies all that was mortal of Samuel Hopkins. + +One of Dr. Hopkins's habitual hearers, and who has borne grateful +testimony to the beauty and holiness of his life and conversation, was +William Ellery Channing. Widely as he afterwards diverged from the creed +of his early teacher, it contained at least one doctrine to the influence +of which the philanthropic devotion of his own life to the welfare of man +bears witness. He says, himself, that there always seemed to him +something very noble in the doctrine of disinterested benevolence, the +casting of self aside, and doing good, irrespective of personal +consequences, in this world or another, upon which Dr. Hopkins so +strongly insisted, as the all-essential condition of holiness. + +How widely apart, as mere theologians, stood Hopkins and Channing! Yet +how harmonious their lives and practice! Both could forget the poor +interests of self, in view of eternal right and universal humanity. Both +could appreciate the saving truth, that love to God and His creation is +the fulfilling of the divine law. The idea of unselfish benevolence, +which they held in common, clothed with sweetness and beauty the stern +and repulsive features of the theology of Hopkins, and infused a sublime +spirit of self-sacrifice and a glowing humanity into the indecisive and +less robust faith of Charming. What is the lesson of this but that +Christianity consists rather in the affections than in the intellect; +that it is a life rather than a creed; and that they who diverge the +widest from each other in speculation upon its doctrines may, after all, +be found working side by side on the common ground of its practice. + +We have chosen to speak of Dr. Hopkins as a philanthropist rather than as +a theologian. Let those who prefer to contemplate the narrow sectarian +rather than the universal man dwell upon his controversial works, and +extol the ingenuity and logical acumen with which he defended his own +dogmas and assailed those of others. We honor him, not as the founder of +a new sect, but as the friend of all mankind,--the generous defender of +the poor and oppressed. Great as unquestionably were his powers of +argument, his learning, and skill in the use of the weapons of theologic +warfare, these by no means constitute his highest title to respect and +reverence. As the product of an honest and earnest mind, his doctrinal +dissertations have at least the merit of sincerity. They were put forth +in behalf of what he regarded as truth; and the success which they met +with, while it called into exercise his profoundest gratitude, only +served to deepen the humility and self-abasement of their author. As the +utterance of what a good man believed and felt, as a part of the history +of a life remarkable for its consecration to apprehended duty, these +writings cannot be without interest even to those who dissent from their +arguments and deny their assumptions; but in the time now, we trust, near +at hand, when distracted and divided Christendom shall unite in a new +Evangelical union, in which orthodoxy in life and practice shall be +estimated above orthodoxy in theory, he will be honored as a good man, +rather than as a successful creed-maker; as a friend of the oppressed and +the fearless rebuker of popular sin rather than as the champion of a +protracted sectarian war. Even now his writings, so popular in their +day, are little known. The time may come when no pilgrim of sectarianism +shall visit his grave. But his memory shall live in the hearts of the +good and generous; the emancipated slave shall kneel over his ashes, and +bless God for the gift to humanity of a life so devoted to its welfare. +To him may be applied the language of one who, on the spot where he +labored and lay down to rest, while rejecting the doctrinal views of the +theologian, still cherishes the philanthropic spirit of the man:-- + + "He is not lost,--he hath not passed away + Clouds, earths, may pass, but stars shine calmly on; + And he who doth the will of God, for aye + Abideth, when the earth and heaven are gone. + + "Alas that such a heart is in the grave!' + Thanks for the life that now shall never end! + Weep, and rejoice, thou terror-hunted slave, + That hast both lost and found so great a friend!" + + + + +RICHARD BAXTER. + +The picture drawn by a late English historian of the infamous Jeffreys in +his judicial robes, sitting in judgment upon the venerable Richard +Baxter, brought before him to answer to an indictment, setting; forth +that the said "Richardus Baxter, persona seditiosa et factiosa pravae +mentis, impiae, inquietae, turbulent disposition et conversation; falso +illicte, injuste nequit factiose seditiose, et irreligiose, fecit, +composuit, scripsit quendam falsum, seditiosum, libellosum, factiosum et +irreligiosum librum," is so remarkable that the attention of the most +careless reader is at once arrested. Who was that old man, wasted with +disease and ghastly with the pallor of imprisonment, upon whom the foul- +mouthed buffoon in ermine exhausted his vocabulary of abuse and ridicule? +Who was Richardus Baxter? + +The author of works so elaborate and profound as to frighten by their +very titles and ponderous folios the modern ecclesiastical student from +their perusal, his hold upon the present generation is limited to a few +practical treatises, which, from their very nature, can never become +obsolete. The _Call to the Unconverted_ and the _Saints' Everlasting +Rest_ belong to no time or sect. They speak the universal language of +the wants and desires of the human soul. They take hold of the awful +verities of life and death, righteousness and judgment to come. Through +them the suffering and hunted minister of Kidderminster has spoken in +warning, entreaty, and rebuke, or in tones of tenderest love and pity, to +the hearts of the generations which have succeeded him. His +controversial works, his confessions of faith, his learned disputations, +and his profound doctrinal treatises are no longer read. Their author +himself, towards the close of his life, anticipated, in respect to these +favorite productions, the children of his early zeal, labor, and +suffering, the judgment of posterity. "I perceive," he says, "that most +of the doctrinal controversies among Protestants are far more about +equivocal words than matter. Experience since the year 1643 to this year +1675 hath loudly called me to repent of my own prejudices, sidings, and +censurings of causes and persons not understood, and of all the +miscarriages of my ministry and life which have been thereby caused; and +to make it my chief work to call men that are within my bearing to more +peaceable thoughts, affections, and practices." + +Richard Baxter was born at the village of Eton Constantine, in 1615. He +received from officiating curates of the little church such literary +instruction as could be given by men who had left the farmer's flail, the +tailor's thimble, and the service of strolling stage-players, to perform +church drudgery under the parish incumbent, who was old and well-nigh +blind. At the age of sixteen, he was sent to a school at Wroxeter, where +he spent three years, to little purpose, so far as a scientific education +was concerned. His teacher left him to himself mainly, and following the +bent of his mind, even at that early period, he abandoned the exact +sciences for the perusal of such controversial and metaphysical writings +of the schoolmen as his master's library afforded. The smattering of +Latin which he acquired only served in after years to deform his +treatises with barbarous, ill-adapted, and erroneous citations. "As to +myself," said he, in his letter written in old age to Anthony Wood, who +had inquired whether he was an Oxonian graduate, "my faults are no +disgrace to a university, for I was of none; I have but little but what I +had out of books and inconsiderable help of country divines. Weakness +and pain helped me to study how to die; that set me a-studying how to +live; and that on studying the doctrine from which I must fetch my +motives and comforts; beginning with necessities, I proceeded by degrees, +and am now going to see that for which I have lived and studied." + +Of the first essays of the young theologian as a preacher of the +Established Church, his early sufferings from that complication of +diseases with which his whole life was tormented, of the still keener +afflictions of a mind whose entire outlook upon life and nature was +discolored and darkened by its disordered bodily medium, and of the +struggles between his Puritan temperament and his reverence for Episcopal +formulas, much might be profitably said, did the limits we have assigned +ourselves admit. Nor can we do more than briefly allude to the religious +doubts and difficulties which darkened and troubled his mind at an early +period. + +He tells us at length in his Life how he struggled with these spiritual +infirmities and temptations. The future life, the immortality of the +soul, and the truth of the Scriptures were by turns questioned. "I +never," says he in a letter to Dr. More, inserted in the _Sadducisimus +Triumphatus_, "had so much ado to overcome a temptation as that to the +opinion of Averroes, that, as extinguished candles go all out in an +illuminated air, so separated souls go all into one common anima mundi, +and lose their individuation." With these and similar "temptations" +Baxter struggled long, earnestly, and in the end triumphantly. His +faith, when once established, remained unshaken to the last; and although +always solemn, reverential, and deeply serious, he was never the subject +of religious melancholy, or of that mournful depression of soul which +arises from despair of an interest in the mercy and paternal love of our +common Father. + +The Great Revolution found him settled as a minister in Kidderminster, +under the sanction of a drunken vicar, who, yielding to the clamor of his +more sober parishioners, and his fear of their appeal to the Long +Parliament, then busy in its task of abating church nuisances, had agreed +to give him sixty pounds per year, in the place of a poor tippling +curate, notorious as a common railer and pothouse encumbrance. + +As might have been expected, the sharp contrast which the earnest, +devotional spirit and painful strictness of Baxter presented to the +irreverent license and careless good humor of his predecessor by no means +commended him to the favor of a large class of his parishioners. Sabbath +merry-makers missed the rubicund face and maudlin jollity of their old +vicar; the ignorant and vicious disliked the new preacher's rigid +morality; the better informed revolted at his harsh doctrines, austere +life, and grave manner. Intense earnestness characterized all his +efforts. Contrasting human nature with the Infinite Purity and Holiness, +he was oppressed with the sense of the loathsomeness and deformity of +sin, and afflicted by the misery of his fellow-creatures separated from +the divine harmony. He tells us that at this period he preached the +terrors of the Law and the necessity of repentance, rather than the joys +and consolations of the Gospel, upon which he so loved to dwell in his +last years. He seems to have felt a necessity laid upon him to startle +men from false hope and security, and to call for holiness of life and +conformity to the divine will as the only ground of safety. Powerful and +impressive as are the appeals and expostulations contained in his written +works, they probably convey but a faint idea of the force and earnestness +of those which he poured forth from his pulpit. As he advanced in years, +these appeals were less frequently addressed to the fears of his +auditors, for he had learned to value a calm and consistent life of +practical goodness beyond any passionate exhibition of terrors, fervors, +and transports. Having witnessed, in an age of remarkable enthusiasm and +spiritual awakening, the ill effects of passional excitements and +religious melancholy, he endeavored to present cheerful views of +Christian life and duty, and made it a special object to repress morbid +imaginations and heal diseased consciences. Thus it came to pass that no +man of his day was more often applied to for counsel and relief by +persons laboring under mental depression than himself. He has left +behind him a very curious and not uninstructive discourse, which he +entitled The Cure of Melancholy, by Faith and Physick, in which he shows +a great degree of skill in his morbid mental anatomy. He had studied +medicine to some extent for the benefit of the poor of his parish, and +knew something of the intimate relations and sympathy of the body and +mind; he therefore did not hesitate to ascribe many of the spiritual +complaints of his applicants to disordered bodily functions, nor to +prescribe pills and powders in the place of Scripture texts. More than +thirty years after the commencement of his labors at Kidderminster he +thus writes: "I was troubled this year with multitudes of melancholy +persons from several places of the land; some of high quality, some of +low, some exquisitely learned, and some unlearned. I know not how it +came to pass, but if men fell melancholy I must hear from them or see +them, more than any physician I knew." He cautions against ascribing +melancholy phantasms and passions to the Holy Spirit, warns the young +against licentious imaginations and excitements, and ends by advising all +to take heed how they make of religion a matter of "fears, tears, and +scruples." "True religion," he remarks, "doth principally consist in +obedience, love, and joy." + +At this early period of his ministry, however, he had all of Whitefield's +intensity and fervor, added to reasoning powers greatly transcending +those of the revivalist of the next century. Young in years, he was even +then old in bodily infirmity and mental experience. Believing himself +the victim of a mortal disease, he lived and preached in the constant +prospect of death. His memento mori was in his bed-chamber, and sat by +him at his frugal meal. The glory of the world was stained to his +vision. He was blind to the beauty of all its "pleasant pictures." No +monk of Mount Athos or silent Chartreuse, no anchorite of Indian +superstition, ever more completely mortified the flesh, or turned his +back more decidedly upon the "good things" of this life. A solemn and +funeral atmosphere surrounded him. He walked in the shadows of the +cypress, and literally "dwelt among the tombs." Tortured by incessant +pain, he wrestled against its attendant languor and debility, as a sinful +wasting of inestimable time; goaded himself to constant toil and +devotional exercise, and, to use his own words, "stirred up his sluggish +soul to speak to sinners with compassion, as a dying man to dying men." + +Such entire consecration could not long be without its effect, even upon +the "vicious rabble," as Baxter calls them. His extraordinary +earnestness, self-forgetting concern for the spiritual welfare of others, +his rigid life of denial and sacrifice, if they failed of bringing men to +his feet as penitents, could not but awaken a feeling of reverence and +awe. In Kidderminster, as in most other parishes of the kingdom, there +were at this period pious, sober, prayerful people, diligent readers of +the Scriptures, who were derided by their neighbors as Puritans, +precisians, and hypocrites. These were naturally drawn towards the new +preacher, and he as naturally recognized them as "honest seekers of the +word and way of God." Intercourse with such men, and the perusal of the +writings of certain eminent Non-conformists, had the effect to abate, in +some degree, his strong attachment to the Episcopal formula and polity. +He began to doubt the rightfulness of making the sign of the cross in +baptism, and to hesitate about administering the sacrament to profane +swearers and tipplers. + +But while Baxter, in the seclusion of his parish, was painfully weighing +the arguments for and against the wearing of surplices, the use of +marriage rings, and the prescribed gestures and genuflections of his +order, tithing with more or less scruple of conscience the mint and anise +and cummin of pulpit ceremonials, the weightier matters of the law, +freedom, justice, and truth were claiming the attention of Pym and +Hampden, Brook and Vane, in the Parliament House. The controversy +between King and Commons had reached the point where it could only be +decided by the dread arbitrament of battle. The somewhat equivocal +position of the Kidderminster preacher exposed him to the suspicion of +the adherents of the King and Bishops. The rabble, at that period +sympathizing with the party of license in morals and strictness in +ceremonials, insulted and mocked him, and finally drove him from his +parish. + +On the memorable 23d of tenth month, 1642, he was invited to occupy a +friend's pulpit at Alcester. + +While preaching, a low, dull, jarring roll, as of continuous thunder, +sounded in his ears. It was the cannon-fire of Edgehill, the prelude to +the stern battle-piece of revolution. On the morrow, Baxter hurried to +the scene of action. "I was desirous," he says, "to see the field. I +found the Earl of Essex keeping the ground, and the King's army facing +them on a hill about a mile off. There were about a thousand dead bodies +in the field between them." Turning from this ghastly survey, the +preacher mingled with the Parliamentary army, when, finding the surgeons +busy with the wounded, he very naturally sought occasion for the exercise +of his own vocation as a spiritual practitioner. He attached himself to +the army. So far as we can gather from his own memoirs and the testimony +of his contemporaries, he was not influenced to this step by any of the +political motives which actuated the Parliamentary leaders. He was no +revolutionist. He was as blind and unquestioning in his reverence for +the King's person and divine right, and as hearty in his hatred of +religious toleration and civil equality, as any of his clerical brethren +who officiated in a similar capacity in the ranks of Goring and Prince +Rupert. He seems only to have looked upon the soldiers as a new set of +parishioners, whom Providence had thrown in his way. The circumstances +of his situation left him little choice in the matter. "I had," he says, +"neither money nor friends. I knew not who would receive me in a place +of safety, nor had I anything to satisfy them for diet and +entertainment." He accepted an offer to live in the Governor's house at +Coventry, and preach to the soldiers of the garrison. Here his skill in +polemics was called into requisition, in an encounter with two New +England Antinomians, and a certain Anabaptist tailor who was making more +rents in the garrison's orthodoxy than he mended in their doublets and +breeches. Coventry seems at this time to have been the rendezvous of a +large body of clergymen, who, as Baxter says, were "for King and +Parliament,"--men who, in their desire for a more spiritual worship, most +unwillingly found themselves classed with the sentries whom they regarded +as troublers and heretics, not to be tolerated; who thought the King had +fallen into the hands of the Papists, and that Essex and Cromwell were +fighting to restore him; and who followed the Parliamentary forces to see +to it that they were kept sound in faith, and free from the heresy of +which the Court News-Book accused them. Of doing anything to overturn +the order of Church and State, or of promoting any radical change in the +social and political condition of the people, they had no intention +whatever. They looked at the events of the time, and upon their duties +in respect to them, not as politicians or reformers, but simply as +ecclesiastics and spiritual teachers, responsible to God for the +religious beliefs and practices of the people, rather than for their +temporal welfare and happiness. They were not the men who struck down +the solemn and imposing prelacy of England, and vindicated the divine +right of men to freedom by tossing the head of an anointed tyrant from +the scaffold at Whitehall. It was the so-called schismatics, ranters, +and levellers, the disputatious corporals and Anabaptist musketeers, the +dread and abhorrence alike of prelate and presbyter, who, under the lead +of Cromwell, + + "Ruined the great work of time, + And cast the kingdoms old + Into another mould." + +The Commonwealth was the work of the laity, the sturdy yeomanry and God- +fearing commoners of England. + +The news of the fight of Naseby reaching Coventry, Baxter, who had +friends in the Parliamentary forces, wishing, as he says, to be assured +of their safety, passed over to the stricken field, and spent a night +with them. He was afflicted and confounded by the information which they +gave him, that the victorious army was full of hot-headed schemers and +levellers, who were against King and Church, prelacy and ritual, and who +were for a free Commonwealth and freedom of religious belief and worship. +He was appalled to find that the heresies of the Antinomians, Arminians, +and Anabaptists had made sadder breaches in the ranks of Cromwell than +the pikes of Jacob Astley, or the daggers of the roysterers who followed +the mad charge of Rupert. Hastening back to Coventry, he called together +his clerical brethren, and told them "the sad news of the corruption of +the army." After much painful consideration of the matter, it was deemed +best for Baxter to enter Cromwell's army, nominally as its chaplain, but +really as the special representative of orthodoxy in politics and +religion, against the democratic weavers and prophesying tailors who +troubled it. He joined Whalley's regiment, and followed it through many +a hot skirmish and siege. Personal fear was by no means one of Baxter's +characteristics, and he bore himself through all with the coolness of an +old campaigner. Intent upon his single object, he sat unmoved under the +hail of cannon-shot from the walls of Bristol, confronted the well-plied +culverins of Sherburne, charged side by side with Harrison upon Goring's +musketeers at Langford, and heard the exulting thanksgiving of that grim +enthusiast, when "with a loud voice he broke forth in praises of God, as +one in rapture;" and marched, Bible in hand, with Cromwell himself, to +the storming of Basing-House, so desperately defended by the Marquis of +Winchester. In truth, these storms of outward conflict were to him of +small moment. He was engaged in a sterner battle with spiritual +principalities and powers, struggling with Satan himself in the guise of +political levellers and Antinomian sowers of heresy. No antagonist was +too high and none too low for him. Distrusting Cromwell, he sought to +engage him in a discussion of certain points of abstract theology, +wherein his soundness seemed questionable; but the wary chief baffled off +the young disputant by tedious, unanswerable discourses about free grace, +which Baxter admits were not unsavory to others, although the speaker +himself had little understanding of the matter. At other times, he +repelled his sad-visaged chaplain with unwelcome jests and rough, +soldierly merriment; for he had "a vivacity, hilarity, and alacrity as +another man hath when he hath taken a cup too much." Baxter says of him, +complainingly, "he would not dispute with me at all." But, in the midst +of such an army, he could not lack abundant opportunity for the exercise +of his peculiar powers of argumentation. At Amersham, he had a sort of +pitched battle with the contumacious soldiers. "When the public talking +day came," says he, "I took the reading-pew, and Pitchford's cornet and +troopers took the gallery. There did the leader of the Chesham men +begin, and afterwards Pitchford's soldiers set in; and I alone disputed +with them from morning until almost night; for I knew their trick, that +if I had gone out first, they would have prated what boasting words they +listed, and made the people believe that they had baffled me, or got the +best; therefore I stayed it out till they first rose and went away." As +usual in such cases, both parties claimed the victory. Baxter got thanks +only from the King's adherents; "Pitchford's troops and the leader of the +Chesham men" retired from their hard day's work, to enjoy the countenance +and favor of Cromwell, as men after his own heart, faithful to the Houses +and the Word, against kingcraft and prelacy. + +Laughed at and held at arm's length by Cromwell, shunned by Harrison and +Berry and other chief officers, opposed on all points by shrewd, earnest +men, as ready for polemic controversy as for battle with the King's +malignants, and who set off against his theological and metaphysical +distinctions their own personal experiences and spiritual exercises, he +had little to encourage him in his arduous labors. Alone in such a +multitude, flushed with victory and glowing with religious enthusiasm, +he earnestly begged his brother ministers to come to his aid. "If the +army," said he, "had only ministers enough, who could have done such +little as I did, all their plot might have been broken, and King, +Parliament, and Religion might have been preserved." But no one +volunteered to assist him, and the "plot" of revolution went on. + +After Worcester fight he returned to Coventry, to make his report to the +ministers assembled there. He told them of his labors and trials, of the +growth of heresy and levelling principles in the army, and of the evident +design of its leaders to pull down Church, King, and Ministers. He +assured them that the day was at hand when all who were true to the King, +Parliament, and Religion should come forth to oppose these leaders, and +draw away their soldiers from them. For himself, he was willing to go +back to the army, and labor there until the crisis of which he spoke had +arrived. "Whereupon," says he, "they all voted me to go yet longer." + +Fortunately for the cause of civil and religious freedom, the great body +of the ministers, who disapproved of the ultraism of the victorious army, +and sympathized with the defeated King, lacked the courage and +devotedness of Baxter. Had they promptly seconded his efforts, although +the restoration of the King might have been impossible at that late +period, the horrors of civil war must have been greatly protracted. As +it was, they preferred to remain at home, and let Baxter have the benefit +of their prayers and good wishes. He returned to the army with the +settled purpose, of causing its defection from Cromwell; but, by one of +those dispensations which the latter used to call "births of Providence," +he was stricken down with severe sickness. Baxter's own comments upon +this passage in his life are not without interest. He says, God +prevented his purposes in his last and chiefest opposition to the army; +that he intended to take off or seduce from their officers the regiment +with which he was connected, and then to have tried his persuasion upon +the others. He says he afterwards found that his sickness was a mercy to +himself, "for they were so strong and active, and I had been likely to +have had small success in the attempt, and to have lost my life among +them in their fury." He was right in this last conjecture; Oliver +Cromwell would have had no scruples in making an example of a plotting +priest; and "Pitchford's soldiers" might have been called upon to +silence, with their muskets, the tough disputant who was proof against +their tongues. + +After a long and dubious illness, Baxter was so far restored as to be +able to go back to his old parish at Kidderminster. Here, under the +Protectorate of Cromwell, he remained in the full enjoyment of that +religious liberty which he still stoutly condemned in its application to +others. + +He afterwards candidly admits, that, under the "Usurper," as he styles +Cromwell, "he had such liberty and advantage to preach the Gospel with +success, as he could not have under a King, to whom he had sworn and +performed true subjection and obedience." Yet this did not prevent him +from preaching and printing, "seasonably and moderately," against the +Protector. "I declared," said he, "Cromwell and his adherents to be +guilty of treason and rebellion, aggravated by perfidiousness and +hypocrisy. But yet I did not think it my duty to rave against him in the +pulpit, or to do this so unseasonably and imprudently as might irritate +him to mischief. And the rather, because, as he kept up his approbation +of a godly life in general, and of all that was good, except that which +the interest of his sinful cause engaged him to be against. So I +perceived that it was his design to do good in the main, and to promote +the Gospel and the interests of godliness more than any had done before +him." + +Cromwell, if he heard of his diatribes against him, appears to have cared +little for them. Lords Warwick and Broghill, on one occasion, brought +him to preach before the Lord Protector. He seized the occasion to +preach against the sentries, to condemn all who countenanced them, and to +advocate the unity of the Church. Soon after, he was sent for by +Cromwell, who made "a long and tedious speech" in the presence of three +of his chief men, (one of whom, General Lambert, fell asleep the while,) +asserting that God had owned his government in a signal manner. Baxter +boldly replied to him, that he and his friends regarded the ancient +monarchy as a blessing, and not an evil, and begged to know how that +blessing was forfeited to England, and to whom that forfeiture was made. +Cromwell, with some heat, made answer that it was no forfeiture, but that +God had made the change. They afterwards held a long conference with +respect to freedom of conscience, Cromwell defending his liberal policy, +and Baxter opposing it. No one can read Baxter's own account of these +interviews, without being deeply impressed with the generous and +magnanimous spirit of the Lord Protector in tolerating the utmost freedom +of speech on the part of one who openly denounced him as a traitor and +usurper. Real greatness of mind could alone have risen above personal +resentment under such circumstances of peculiar aggravation. + +In the death of the Protector, the treachery of Monk, and the restoration +of the King, Baxter and his Presbyterian friends believed that they saw +the hand of a merciful Providence preparing the way for the best good of +England and the Church. Always royalists, they had acted with the party +opposed to the King from necessity rather than choice. Considering all +that followed, one can scarcely avoid smiling over the extravagant +jubilations of the Presbyterian divines, on the return of the royal +debauchee to Whitehall. They hurried up to London with congratulations +of formidable length and papers of solemn advice and counsel, to all +which the careless monarch listened, with what patience he was master of. +Baxter was one of the first to present himself at Court, and it is +creditable to his heart rather than his judgment and discrimination that +he seized the occasion to offer a long address to the King, expressive of +his expectation that his Majesty would discountenance all sin and promote +godliness, support the true exercise of Church discipline and cherish and +hold up the hands of the faithful ministers of the Church. To all which +Charles II. "made as gracious an answer as we could expect," says Baxter, +"insomuch that old Mr. Ash burst out into tears of joy." Who doubts that +the profligate King avenged himself as soon as the backs of his unwelcome +visitors were fairly turned, by coarse jests and ribaldry, directed +against a class of men whom he despised and hated, but towards whom +reasons of policy dictated a show of civility and kindness? + +There is reason to believe that Charles II., had he been able to effect +his purpose, would have gone beyond Cromwell himself in the matter of +religious toleration; in other words, he would have taken, in the outset +of his reign, the very steps which cost his successor his crown, and +procured the toleration of Catholics by a declaration of universal +freedom in religion. But he was not in a situation to brave the +opposition alike of Prelacy and Presbyterianism, and foiled in a scheme +to which he was prompted by that vague, superstitious predilection for +the Roman Catholic religion which at times struggled with his habitual +scepticism, his next object was to rid himself of the importunities of +sentries and the trouble of religious controversies by reestablishing the +liturgy, and bribing or enforcing conformity to it on the part of the +Presbyterians. The history of the successful execution of this purpose +is familiar to all the readers of the plausible pages of Clarendon on the +one side, or the complaining treatises of Neal and Calamy on the other. + +Charles and his advisers triumphed, not so much through their own art, +dissimulation, and bad faith as through the blind bigotry, divided +counsels, and self-seeking of the Nonconformists. Seduction on one hand +and threats on the other, the bribe of bishoprics, hatred of Independents +and Quakers, and the terror of penal laws, broke the strength of +Presbyterianism. + +Baxter's whole conduct, on this occasion, bears testimony to his honesty +and sincerity, while it shows him to have been too intolerant to secure +his own religious freedom at the price of toleration for Catholics, +Quakers, and Anabaptists; and too blind in his loyalty to perceive that +pure and undefiled Christianity had nothing to hope for from a scandalous +and depraved King, surrounded by scoffing, licentious courtiers and a +haughty, revengeful prelacy. To secure his influence, the Court offered +him the bishopric of Hereford. Superior to personal considerations, he +declined the honor; but somewhat inconsistently, in his zeal for the +interests of his party, he urged the elevation of at least three of his +Presbyterian friends to the Episcopal bench, to enforce that very liturgy +which they condemned. He was the chief speaker for the Presbyterians at +the famous Savoy Conference, summoned to advise and consult upon the Book +of Common Prayer. His antagonist was Dr. Gunning, ready, fluent, and +impassioned. "They spent," as Gilbert Burnet says, "several days in +logical arguing, to the diversion of the town, who looked upon them as a +couple of fencers, engaged in a discussion which could not be brought to +an end." In themselves considered, many of the points at issue seem +altogether too trivial for the zeal with which Baxter contested them,-- +the form of a surplice, the wording of a prayer, kneeling at sacrament, +the sign of the cross, etc. With him, however, they were of momentous +interest and importance, as things unlawful in the worship of God. He +struggled desperately, but unavailingly. Presbyterianism, in its +eagerness for peace and union and a due share of State support, had +already made fatal concessions, and it was too late to stand upon non- +essentials. Baxter retired from the conference baffled and defeated, +amidst murmurs and jests. "If you had only been as fat as Dr. Manton," +said Clarendon to him, "you would have done well." + +The Act of Conformity, in which Charles II. and his counsellors gave the +lie to the liberal declarations of Breda and Whitehall, drove Baxter from +his sorrowing parishioners of Kidderminster, and added the evils of +poverty and persecution to the painful bodily infirmities under which he +was already bowed down. Yet his cup was not one of unalloyed bitterness, +and loving lips were prepared to drink it with him. + +Among Baxter's old parishioners of Kidderminster was a widowed lady of +gentle birth, named Charlton, who, with her daughter Margaret, occupied a +house in his neighborhood. The daughter was a brilliant girl, of +"strangely vivid wit," and "in early youth," he tells us, "pride, and +romances, and company suitable thereunto, did take her up." But erelong, +Baxter, who acted in the double capacity of spiritual and temporal +physician, was sent for to visit her, on an occasion of sickness. He +ministered to her bodily and mental sufferings, and thus secured her +gratitude and confidence. On her recovery, under the influence of his +warnings and admonitions, the gay young girl became thoughtful and +serious, abandoned her light books and companions, and devoted herself to +the duties of a Christian profession. Baxter was her counsellor and +confidant. She disclosed to him all her doubts, trials, and temptations, +and he, in return, wrote her long letters of sympathy, consolation, and +encouragement. He began to feel such an unwonted interest in the moral +and spiritual growth of his young disciple, that, in his daily walks +among his parishioners, he found himself inevitably drawn towards her +mother's dwelling. In her presence, the habitual austerity of his manner +was softened; his cold, close heart warmed and expanded. He began to +repay her confidence with his own, disclosing to her all his plans of +benevolence, soliciting her services, and waiting, with deference, for +her judgment upon them. A change came over his habits of thought and his +literary tastes; the harsh, rude disputant, the tough, dry logician, +found himself addressing to his young friend epistles in verse on +doctrinal points and matters of casuistry; Westminster Catechism in +rhyme; the Solemn League and Covenant set to music. A miracle alone +could have made Baxter a poet; the cold, clear light of reason "paled the +ineffectual fires" of his imagination; all things presented themselves to +his vision "with hard outlines, colorless, and with no surrounding +atmosphere." That he did, nevertheless, write verses, so creditable as +to justify a judicious modern critic in their citation and approval, can +perhaps be accounted for only as one of the phenomena of that subtle and +transforming influence to which even his stern nature was unconsciously +yielding. Baxter was in love. + +Never did the blind god try his archery on a more unpromising subject. +Baxter was nearly fifty years of age, and looked still older. His life +had been one long fast and penance. Even in youth he had never known a +schoolboy's love for cousin or playmate. He had resolutely closed up his +heart against emotions which he regarded as the allurements of time and +sense. He had made a merit of celibacy, and written and published +against the entanglement of godly ministers in matrimonial engagements +and family cares. It is questionable whether he now understood his own +case, or attributed to its right cause the peculiar interest which he +felt in Margaret Charlton. Left to himself, it is more than probable +that he might never have discovered the true nature of that interest, or +conjectured that anything whatever of earthly passion or sublunary +emotion had mingled with his spiritual Platonism. Commissioned and set +apart to preach repentance to dying men, penniless and homeless, worn +with bodily pain and mental toil, and treading, as he believed, on the +very margin of his grave, what had he to do with love? What power had he +to inspire that tender sentiment, the appropriate offspring only of +youth, and health, and beauty? + + "Could any Beatrice see + A lover in such anchorite!" + +But in the mean time a reciprocal feeling was gaining strength in the +heart of Margaret. To her grateful appreciation of the condescension of +a great and good man--grave, learned, and renowned--to her youth and +weakness, and to her enthusiastic admiration of his intellectual powers, +devoted to the highest and holiest objects, succeeded naturally enough +the tenderly suggestive pity of her woman's heart, as she thought of his +lonely home, his unshared sorrows, his lack of those sympathies and +kindnesses which make tolerable the hard journey of life. Did she not +owe to him, under God, the salvation of body and mind? Was he not her +truest and most faithful friend, entering with lively interest into all +her joys and sorrows? Had she not seen the cloud of his habitual sadness +broken by gleams of sunny warmth and cheerfulness, as they conversed +together? Could she do better than devote herself to the pleasing task +of making his life happier, of comforting him in seasons of pain and +weariness, encouraging him in his vast labors, and throwing over the cold +and hard austerities of his nature the warmth and light of domestic +affection? Pity, reverence, gratitude, and womanly tenderness, her +fervid imagination and the sympathies of a deeply religious nature, +combined to influence her decision. Disparity of age and condition +rendered it improbable that Baxter would ever venture to address her in +any other capacity than that of a friend and teacher; and it was left to +herself to give the first intimation of the possibility of a more +intimate relation. + +It is easy to imagine with what mixed feelings of joy, surprise, and +perplexity Baxter must have received the delicate avowal. There was much +in the circumstances of the case to justify doubt, misgiving, and close +searchings of heart. He must have felt the painful contrast which that +fair girl in the bloom of her youth presented to the worn man of middle +years, whose very breath was suffering, and over whom death seemed always +impending. Keenly conscious of his infirmities of temper, he must have +feared for the happiness of a loving, gentle being, daily exposed to +their manifestations. From his well-known habit of consulting what he +regarded as the divine will in every important step of his life, there +can be no doubt that his decision was the result quite as much of a +prayerful and patient consideration of duty as of the promptings of his +heart. Richard Baxter was no impassioned Abelard; his pupil in the +school of his severe and self-denying piety was no Heloise; but what +their union lacked in romantic interest was compensated by its purity and +disinterestedness, and its sanction by all that can hallow human passion, +and harmonize the love of the created with the love and service of the +Creator. + +Although summoned by a power which it would have been folly to resist, +the tough theologian did not surrender at discretion. "From the first +thoughts yet many changes and stoppages intervened, and long delays," he +tells us. The terms upon which he finally capitulated are perfectly in +keeping with his character. "She consented," he says, "to three +conditions of our marriage. 1st. That I should have nothing that before +our marriage was hers; that I, who wanted no earthly supplies, might not +seem to marry her from selfishness. 2d. That she would so alter her +affairs that I might be entangled in no lawsuits. 3d. That she should +expect none of my time which my ministerial work should require." + +As was natural, the wits of the Court had their jokes upon this singular +marriage; and many of his best friends regretted it, when they called to +mind what he had written in favor of ministerial celibacy, at a time +when, as he says, "he thought to live and die a bachelor." But Baxter +had no reason to regret the inconsistency of his precept and example. +How much of the happiness of the next twenty years of his life resulted +from his union with a kind and affectionate woman he has himself +testified, in his simple and touching Breviate of the Life of the late +Mrs. Baxter. Her affections were so ardent that her husband confesses +his fear that he was unable to make an adequate return, and that she must +have been disappointed in him in consequence. He extols her pleasant +conversation, her active benevolence, her disposition to aid him in all +his labors, and her noble forgetfulness of self, in ministering to his +comfort, in sickness and imprisonment. "She was the meetest helper I +could have had in the world," is his language. "If I spoke harshly or +sharply, it offended her. If I carried it (as I am apt) with too much +negligence of ceremony or humble compliment to any, she would modestly +tell me of it. If my looks seemed not pleasant, she would have me amend +them (which my weak, pained state of body indisposed me to do)." He +admits she had her failings, but, taken as a whole, the Breviate is an +exalted eulogy. + +His history from this time is marked by few incidents of a public +character. During that most disgraceful period in the annals of England, +the reign of the second Charles, his peculiar position exposed him to the +persecutions of prelacy and the taunts and abuse of the sentries, +standing as he did between these extremes, and pleading for a moderate +Episcopacy. He was between the upper millstone of High Church and the +nether one of Dissent. To use his own simile, he was like one who seeks +to fill with his hand a cleft in a log, and feels both sides close upon +him with pain. All parties and sects had, as they thought, grounds of +complaint against him. There was in him an almost childish simplicity of +purpose, a headlong earnestness and eagerness, which did not allow him to +consider how far a present act or opinion harmonized with what he had +already done or written. His greatest admirers admit his lack of +judgment, his inaptitude for the management of practical matters. His +utter incapacity to comprehend rightly the public men and measures of his +day is abundantly apparent; and the inconsistencies of his conduct and +his writings are too marked to need comment. He suffered persecution for +not conforming to some trifling matters of Church usage, while he +advocated the doctrine of passive obedience to the King or ruling power, +and the right of that power to enforce conformity. He wrote against +conformity while himself conforming; seceded from the Church, and yet +held stated communion with it; begged for the curacy of Kidderminster, +and declined the bishopric of Hereford. His writings were many of them +directly calculated to make Dissenters from the Establishment, but he was +invariably offended to find others practically influenced by them, and +quarrelled with his own converts to Dissent. The High Churchmen of +Oxford burned his Holy Commonwealth as seditious and revolutionary; while +Harrington and the republican club of Miles's Coffee House condemned it +for its hostility to democracy and its servile doctrine of obedience to +kings. He made noble pleas for liberty of conscience and bitterly +complained of his own suffering from Church courts, yet maintained the +necessity of enforcing conformity, and stoutly opposed the tolerant +doctrines of Penn and Milton. Never did a great and good man so entangle +himself with contradictions and inconsistencies. The witty and wicked +Sir Roger L'Estrange compiled from the irreconcilable portions of his +works a laughable Dialogue between Richard and Baxter. The Antinomians +found him guilty of Socinianism; and one noted controversialist undertook +to show, not without some degree of plausibility, that he was by turns a +Quaker and a Papist! + +Although able to suspend his judgment and carefully weigh evidence, upon +matters which he regarded as proper subjects of debate and scrutiny, he +possessed the power to shut out and banish at will all doubt and +misgiving in respect to whatever tended to prove, illustrate, or enforce +his settled opinions and cherished doctrines. His credulity at times +seems boundless. Hating the Quakers, and prepared to believe all manner +of evil of them, he readily came to the conclusion that their leaders +were disguised Papists. He maintained that Lauderdale was a good and +pious man, in spite of atrocities in Scotland which entitle him to a +place with Claverhouse; and indorsed the character of the infamous +Dangerfield, the inventor of the Meal-tub Plot, as a worthy convert from +popish errors. To prove the existence of devils and spirits, he +collected the most absurd stories and old-wives' fables, of soldiers +scared from their posts at night by headless bears, of a young witch +pulling the hooks out of Mr. Emlen's breeches and swallowing them, of Mr. +Beacham's locomotive tobacco-pipe, and the Rev. Mr. Munn's jumping Bible, +and of a drunken man punished for his intemperance by being lifted off +his legs by an invisible hand! Cotton Mather's marvellous account of his +witch experiments in New England delighted him. He had it republished, +declaring that "he must be an obstinate Sadducee who doubted it." + +The married life of Baxter, as might be inferred from the state of the +times, was an unsettled one. He first took a house at Moorfields, then +removed to Acton, where he enjoyed the conversation of his neighbor, Sir +Matthew Hale; from thence he found refuge in Rickmansworth, and after +that in divers other places. "The women have most of this trouble," he +remarks, "but my wife easily bore it all." When unable to preach, his +rapid pen was always busy. Huge folios of controversial and doctrinal +lore followed each other in quick succession. He assailed Popery and the +Establishment, Anabaptists, ultra Calvinists, Antinomians, Fifth Monarchy +men, and Quakers. His hatred of the latter was only modified by his +contempt. He railed rather than argued against the "miserable +creatures," as he styled them. They in turn answered him in like manner. +"The Quakers," he says, "in their shops, when I go along London streets, +say, 'Alas' poor man, thou art yet in darkness.' They have oft come to +the congregation, when I had liberty to preach Christ's Gospel, and cried +out against me as a deceiver of the people. They have followed me home, +crying out in the streets, 'The day of the Lord is coming, and thou shalt +perish as a deceiver.' They have stood in the market-place, and under my +window, year after year, crying to the people, 'Take heed of your +priests, they deceive your souls;' and if any one wore a lace or neat +clothing, they cried out to me, 'These are the fruits of your ministry.'" + +At Rickmansworth, he found himself a neighbor of William Penn, whom he +calls "the captain of the Quakers." Ever ready for battle, Baxter +encountered him in a public discussion, with such fierceness and +bitterness as to force from that mild and amiable civilian the remark, +that he would rather be Socrates at the final judgment than Richard +Baxter. Both lived to know each other better, and to entertain +sentiments of mutual esteem. Baxter himself admits that the Quakers, by +their perseverance in holding their religious meetings in defiance of +penal laws, took upon themselves the burden of persecution which would +otherwise have fallen upon himself and his friends; and makes special +mention of the noble and successful plea of Penn before the Recorder's +Court in London, based on the fundamental liberties of Englishmen and the +rights of the Great Charter. + +The intolerance of Baxter towards the Separatists was turned against him +whenever he appealed to the King and Parliament against the proscription +of himself and his friends. "They gathered," he complains, "out of mine +and other men's books all that we had said against liberty for Popery and +Quakers railing against ministers in open congregation, and applied it as +against the toleration of ourselves." It was in vain that he explained +that he was only in favor of a gentle coercion of dissent, a moderate +enforcement of conformity. His plan for dealing with sentries reminds +one of old Isaak Walton's direction to his piscatorial readers, to impale +the frog on the hook as gently as if they loved him. + +While at Acton, he was complained of by Dr. Ryves, the rector, one of the +King's chaplains in ordinary, for holding religious services in his +family with more than five strangers present. He was cast into +Clerkenwell jail, whither his faithful wife followed him. On his +discharge, he sought refuge in the hamlet of Totteridge, where he wrote +and published that Paraphrase on the New Testament which was made the +ground of his prosecution and trial before Jeffreys. + +On the 14th of the sixth month, 1681, he was called to endure the +greatest affliction of his life. His wife died on that day, after a +brief illness. She who had been his faithful friend, companion, and +nurse for twenty years was called away from him in the time of his +greatest need of her ministrations. He found consolation in dwelling on +her virtues and excellences in the Breviate of her life; "a paper +monument," he says, "erected by one who is following her even at the door +in some passion indeed of love and grief." In the preface to his +poetical pieces he alludes to her in terms of touching simplicity and +tenderness: "As these pieces were mostly written in various passions, so +passion hath now thrust them out into the world. God having taken away +the dear companion of the last nineteen years of my life, as her sorrows +and sufferings long ago gave being to some of these poems, for reasons, +which the world is not concerned to know; so my grief for her removal, +and the revival of the sense of former things, have prevailed upon me to +be passionate in the sight of all." + +The circumstances of his trial before the judicial monster, Jeffreys, are +too well known to justify their detail in this sketch. He was sentenced +to pay a fine of five hundred marks. Seventy years of age, and reduced +to poverty by former persecutions, he was conveyed to the King's Bench +prison. Here for two years he lay a victim to intense bodily suffering. +When, through the influence of his old antagonist, Penn, he was restored +to freedom, he was already a dying man. But he came forth from prison as +he entered it, unsubdued in spirit. + +Urged to sign a declaration of thanks to James II., his soul put on the +athletic habits of youth, and he stoutly refused to commend an act of +toleration which had given freedom not to himself alone, but to Papists +and sentries. Shaking off the dust of the Court from his feet, he +retired to a dwelling in Charter-House Square, near his friend +Sylvester's, and patiently awaited his deliverance. His death was quiet +and peaceful. "I have pain," he said to his friend Mather; "there is no +arguing against sense; but I have peace. I have peace." On being asked +how he did, he answered, in memorable words, "Almost well!" + +He was buried in Christ Church, where the remains of his wife and her +mother had been placed. An immense concourse attended his funeral, of +all ranks and parties. Conformist and Non-conformist forgot the +bitterness of the controversialist, and remembered only the virtues and +the piety of the man. Looking back on his life of self-denial and +faithfulness to apprehended duty, the men who had persecuted him while +living wept over his grave. During the last few years of his life, the +severity of his controversial tone had been greatly softened; he lamented +his former lack of charity, the circle of his sympathies widened, his +social affections grew stronger with age, and love for his fellow-men +universally, and irrespective of religious differences, increased within +him. In his Narrative, written in the long, cool shadows of the evening +of life, he acknowledges with extraordinary candor this change in his +views and feelings. He confesses his imperfections as a writer and +public teacher. + +"I wish," he says, "all over-sharp passages were expunged from my +writings, and I ask forgiveness of God and man." He tells us that +mankind appear more equal to him; the good are not so good as he once +thought, nor the bad so evil; and that in all there is more for grace to +make advantage of, and more to testify for God and holiness, than he once +believed. "I less admire," he continues, "gifts of utterance, and the +bare profession of religion, than I once did, and have now much more +charity for those who, by want of gifts, do make an obscurer profession." + +He laments the effects of his constitutional irritability and impatience +upon his social intercourse and his domestic relations, and that his +bodily infirmities did not allow him a free expression of the tenderness +and love of his heart. Who does not feel the pathos and inconsolable +regret which dictated the following paragraph? + +"When God forgiveth me, I cannot forgive myself, especially for my rash +words and deeds by which I have seemed injurious and less tender and kind +than I should have been to my near and dear relations, whose love +abundantly obliged me. When such are dead, though we never differed in +point of interest or any other matter, every sour or cross or provoking +word which I gave them maketh me almost irreconcilable to myself, and +tells me how repentance brought some of old to pray to the dead whom they +had wronged to forgive them, in the hurry of their passion." + +His pride as a logician and skilful disputant abated in the latter and +better portion of his life he had more deference to the judgment of +others, and more distrust of his own. "You admire," said he to a +correspondent who had lauded his character, "one you do not know; +knowledge will cure your error." In his Narrative he writes: "I am much +more sensible than heretofore of the breadth and length and depth of the +radical, universal, odious sin of selfishness, and therefore have written +so much against it; and of the excellency and necessity of self-denial +and of a public mind, and of loving our neighbors as ourselves." Against +many difficulties and discouragements, both within himself and in his +outward circumstances, he strove to make his life and conversation an +expression of that Christian love whose root, as he has said with equal +truth and beauty, "is set + + In humble self-denial, undertrod, + While flower and fruit are growing up to God." + +Of the great mass of his writings, more voluminous than those of any +author of his time, it would ill become us to speak with confidence. We +are familiar only with some of the best of his practical works, and our +estimate of the vast and appalling series of his doctrinal, metaphysical +and controversial publications would be entitled to small weight, as the +result of very cursory examination. Many of them relate to obsolete +questions and issues, monumental of controversies long dead, and of +disputatious doctors otherwise forgotten. Yet, in respect to even these, +we feel justified in assenting to the opinion of one abundantly capable +of appreciating the character of Baxter as a writer. "What works of Mr. +Baxter shall I read?" asked Boswell of Dr. Johnson. "Read any of them," +was the answer, "for they are all good." He has left upon all the +impress of his genius. Many of them contain sentiments which happily +find favor with few in our time: philosophical and psychological +disquisitions, which look oddly enough in the light of the intellectual +progress of nearly two centuries; dissertations upon evil spirits, +ghosts, and witches, which provoke smiles at the good man's credulity; +but everywhere we find unmistakable evidences of his sincerity and +earnest love of truth. He wrote under a solemn impression of duty, +allowing neither pain, nor weakness, nor the claims of friendship, nor +the social enjoyments of domestic affection, to interfere with his +sleepless intensity of purpose. He stipulated with his wife, before +marriage, that she should not expect him to relax, even for her society, +the severity of his labors. He could ill brook interruption, and +disliked the importunity of visitors. "We are afraid, sir, we break in +upon your time," said some of his callers to him upon one occasion. "To +be sure you do," was his answer. His seriousness seldom forsook him; +there is scarce a gleam of gayety in all his one hundred and sixty-eight +volumes. He seems to have relished, however, the wit of others, +especially when directed against what he looked upon as error. Marvell's +inimitable reply to the High-Church pretensions of Parker fairly overcame +his habitual gravity, and he several times alludes to it with marked +satisfaction; but, for himself, he had no heart for pleasentry. His +writings, like his sermons, were the earnest expostulations of a dying +man with dying men. He tells us of no other amusement or relaxation than +the singing of psalms. "Harmony and melody," said he, "are the pleasure +and elevation of my soul. It was not the least comfort that I had in the +converse of my late dear wife, that our first act in the morning and last +in bed at night was a psalm of praise." + +It has been fashionable to speak of Baxter as a champion of civil and +religious freedom. He has little claim to such a reputation. He was the +stanch advocate of monarchy, and of the right and duty of the State to +enforce conformity to what he regarded as the essentials of religious +belief and practice. No one regards the prelates who went to the Tower, +under James II., on the ground of conscientious scruples against reading +the King's declaration of toleration to Dissenters, as martyrs in the +cause of universal religious freedom. Nor can Baxter, although he wrote +much against the coercion and silencing of godly ministers, and suffered +imprisonment himself for the sake of a good conscience, be looked upon in +the light of an intelligent and consistent confessor of liberty. He did +not deny the abstract right of ecclesiastical coercion, but complained of +its exercise upon himself and his friends as unwarranted and unjust. + +One of the warmest admirers and ablest commentators of Baxter designates +the leading and peculiar trait of his character as unearthliness. In our +view, this was its radical defect. He had too little of humanity, he +felt too little of the attraction of this world, and lived too +exclusively in the spiritual and the unearthly, for a full and healthful +development of his nature as a man, or of the graces, charities, and +loves of the Christian. He undervalued the common blessings and joys of +life, and closed his eyes and ears against the beauty and harmony of +outward nature. Humanity, in itself considered, seemed of small moment +to him; "passing away" was written alike on its wrongs and its rights, +its pleasures and its pains; death would soon level all distinctions; and +the sorrows or the joys, the poverty or the riches, the slavery or the +liberty, of the brief day of its probation seemed of too little +consequence to engage his attention and sympathies. Hence, while he was +always ready to minister to temporal suffering wherever it came to his +notice, he made no efforts to remove its political or social causes. +In this respect he differed widely from some of his illustrious +contemporaries. Penn, while preaching up and down the land, and writing +theological folios and pamphlets, could yet urge the political rights of +Englishmen, mount the hustings for Algernon Sydney, and plead for +unlimited religious liberty; and Vane, while dreaming of a coming +millennium and reign of the saints, and busily occupied in defending his +Antinomian doctrines, could at the same time vindicate, with tongue and +pen, the cause of civil and religious freedom. But Baxter overlooked the +evils and oppressions which were around him, and forgot the necessities +and duties of the world of time and sense in his earnest aspirations +towards the world of spirits. It is by no means an uninstructive fact, +that with the lapse of years his zeal for proselytism, doctrinal +disputations, and the preaching of threats and terrors visibly declined, +while love for his fellow-men and catholic charity greatly increased, and +he was blessed with a clearer perception of the truth that God is best +served through His suffering children, and that love and reverence for +visible humanity is an indispensable condition of the appropriate worship +of the Unseen God. + +But, in taking leave of Richard Baxter, our last words must not be those +of censure. Admiration and reverence become us rather. He was an honest +man. So far as we can judge, his motives were the highest and best which +can influence human action. He had faults and weaknesses, and committed +grave errors, but we are constrained to believe that the prayer with +which he closes his Saints' Rest and which we have chosen as the fitting +termination of our article, was the earnest aspiration of his life:-- + +"O merciful Father of Spirits! suffer not the soul of thy unworthy +servant to be a stranger to the joys which he describes to others, but +keep me while I remain on earth in daily breathing after thee, and in a +believing affectionate walking with thee! Let those who shall read these +pages not merely read the fruits of my studies, but the breathing of my +active hope and love; that if my heart were open to their view, they +might there read thy love most deeply engraven upon it with a beam from +the face of the Son of God; and not find vanity or lust or pride within +where the words of life appear without, that so these lines may not +witness against me, but, proceeding from the heart of the writer, be +effectual through thy grace upon the heart of the reader, and so be the +savor of life to both." + + + + +WILLIAM LEGGETT + + "O Freedom! thou art not, as poets dream, + A fair young girl, with light and delicate limbs, + And wavy tresses, gushing from the cap + With which the Roman master crowned his slave, + When he took off the gyves. A bearded man, + Armed to the teeth, art thou; one mailed hand + Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword; thy brow, + Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred + With tokens of old wars; thy massive limbs + Are strong with struggling. Power at thee has launched + His bolts, and with his lightnings smitten thee; + They could not quench the life thou hast from Heaven." + BRYANT. + +WHEN the noblest woman in all France stood on the scaffold, just before +her execution, she is said to have turned towards the statue of Liberty, +--which, strangely enough, had been placed near the guillotine, as its +patron saint,--with the exclamation, "O Liberty! what crimes have been +committed in thy name!" It is with a feeling akin to that which prompted +this memorable exclamation of Madame Roland that the sincere lover of +human freedom and progress is often compelled to regard American +democracy. + +For democracy, pure and impartial,--the self-government of the whole; +equal rights and privileges, irrespective of birth or complexion; the +morality of the Gospel of Christ applied to legislation; Christianity +reduced to practice, and showering the blessings of its impartial love +and equal protection upon all, like the rain and dews of heaven,--we have +the sincerest love and reverence. So far as our own government +approaches this standard--and, with all its faults, we believe it does so +more nearly than any other--it has our hearty and steadfast allegiance. +We complain of and protest against it only where, in its original +framework or actual administration, it departs from the democratic +principle. Holding, with Novalis, that the Christian religion is the +root of all democracy and the highest fact in the rights of man, we +regard the New Testament as the true political text-book; and believe +that, just in proportion as mankind receive its doctrines and precepts, +not merely as matters of faith and relating to another state of being, +but as practical rules, designed for the regulation of the present life +as well as the future, their institutions, social arrangements, and forms +of government will approximate to the democratic model. We believe in +the ultimate complete accomplishment of the mission of Him who came "to +preach deliverance to the captive, and the opening of prison doors to +them that are bound." We look forward to the universal dominion of His +benign humanity; and, turning from the strife and blood, the slavery, and +social and political wrongs of the past and present, anticipate the +realization in the distant future of that state when the song of the +angels at His advent shall be no longer a prophecy, but the jubilant +expression of a glorious reality,--"Glory to God in the highest! Peace +on earth, and good will to man!" + +For the party in this country which has assumed the name of Democracy, as +a party, we have had, we confess, for some years past, very little +respect. It has advocated many salutary measures, tending to equalize the +advantages of trade and remove the evils of special legislation. But if +it has occasionally lopped some of the branches of the evil tree of +oppression, so far from striking at its root, it has suffered itself to +be made the instrument of nourishing and protecting it. It has allowed +itself to be called, by its Southern flatterers, "the natural ally of +slavery." It has spurned the petitions of the people in behalf of +freedom under its feet, in Congress and State legislatures. Nominally +the advocate of universal suffrage, it has wrested from the colored +citizens of Pennsylvania that right of citizenship which they had enjoyed +under a Constitution framed by Franklin and Rush. Perhaps the most +shameful exhibition of its spirit was made in the late Rhode Island +struggle, when the free suffrage convention, solemnly calling heaven and +earth to witness its readiness to encounter all the horrors of civil war, +in defence of the holy principle of equal and universal suffrage, +deliberately excluded colored Rhode Islanders from the privilege of +voting. In the Constitutional Conventions of Michigan and Iowa, the same +party declared all men equal, and then provided an exception to this rule +in the case of the colored inhabitants. Its course on the question of +excluding slavery from Texas is a matter of history, known and read of +all. + +After such exhibitions of its practice, its professions have lost their +power. The cant of democracy upon the lips of men who are living down +its principles is, to an earnest mind, well nigh insufferable. Pertinent +were the queries of Eliphaz the Temanite, "Shall a man utter vain +knowledge, and fill his belly with the east wind? Shall he reason with +unprofitable talk, or with speeches wherewith he can do no good?" Enough +of wearisome talk we have had about "progress," the rights of "the +masses," the "dignity of labor," and "extending the area of freedom"! +"Clear your mind of cant, sir," said Johnson to Boswell; and no better +advice could be now given to a class of our democratic politicians. Work +out your democracy; translate your words into deeds; away with your +sentimental generalizations, and come down to the practical details of +your duty as men and Christians. What avail your abstract theories, your +hopeless virginity of democracy, sacred from the violence of meanings? +A democracy which professes to hold, as by divine right, the doctrine of +human equality in its special keeping, and which at the same time gives +its direct countenance and support to the vilest system of oppression on +which the sun of heaven looks, has no better title to the name it +disgraces than the apostate Son of the Morning has to his old place in +heaven. We are using strong language, for we feel strongly on this +subject. Let those whose hypocrisy we condemn, and whose sins against +humanity we expose, remember that they are the publishers of their own +shame, and that they have gloried in their apostasy. There is a cutting +severity in the answer which Sophocles puts in the mouth of Electra, in +justification of her indignant rebuke of her wicked mother:-- + + "'Tis you that say it, not I + You do the unholy deeds which find rue words." + +Yet in that party calling itself democratic we rejoice to recognize true, +generous, and thoroughly sincere men,--lovers of the word of democracy, +and doers of it also, honest and hearty in their worship of liberty, who +are still hoping that the antagonism which slavery presents to democracy +will be perceived by the people, in spite of the sophistry and appeals to +prejudice by which interested partisans have hitherto succeeded in +deceiving them. We believe with such that the mass of the democratic +voters of the free States are in reality friends of freedom, and hate +slavery in all its forms; and that, with a full understanding of the +matter, they could never consent to be sold to presidential aspirants, by +political speculators, in lots to suit purchasers, and warranted to be +useful in putting down free discussion, perpetuating oppression, and +strengthening the hands of modern feudalism. They are beginning already +to see that, under the process whereby men of easy virtue obtain offices +from the general government, as the reward of treachery to free +principles, the strength and vitality of the party are rapidly declining. +To them, at least, democracy means something more than collectorships, +consulates, and governmental contracts. For the sake of securing a +monopoly of these to a few selfish and heartless party managers, they are +not prepared to give up the distinctive principles of democracy, and +substitute in their place the doctrines of the Satanic school of +politics. They will not much longer consent to stand before the world as +the slavery party of the United States, especially when policy and +expediency, as well as principle, unite in recommending a position more +congenial to the purposes of their organization, the principles of the +fathers of their political faith, the spirit of the age, and the +obligations of Christianity. + +The death-blow of slavery in this country will be given by the very power +upon which it has hitherto relied with so much confidence. Abused and +insulted Democracy will, erelong, shake off the loathsome burden under +which it is now staggering. In the language of the late Theodore +Sedgwiek, of Massachusetts, a consistent democrat of the old school: +"Slavery, in all its forms, is anti-democratic,--an old poison left in +the veins, fostering the worst principles of aristocracy, pride, and +aversion to labor; the natural enemy of the poor man, the laboring man, +the oppressed man. The question is, whether absolute dominion over any +creature in the image of man be a wholesome power in a free country; +whether this is a school in which to train the young republican mind; +whether slave blood and free blood can course healthily together in the +same body politic. Whatever may be present appearances, and by whatever +name party may choose to call things, this question must finally be +settled by the democracy of the country." + +This prediction was made eight years ago, at a time when all the facts in +the case seemed against the probability of its truth, and when only here +and there the voice of an indignant freeman protested against the +exulting claims of the slave power upon the democracy as its "natural +ally." The signs of the times now warrant the hope of its fulfilment. +Over the hills of the East, and over the broad territory of the Empire +State, a new spirit is moving. Democracy, like Balaam upon Zophim, has +felt the divine _afflatus_, and is blessing that which it was summoned to +curse. + +The present hopeful state of things is owing, in no slight degree, to the +self-sacrificing exertions of a few faithful and clear-sighted men, +foremost among whom was the late William Leggett; than whom no one has +labored more perseveringly, or, in the end, more successfully, to bring +the practice of American democracy into conformity with its professions. + +William Leggett! Let our right hand forget its cunning, when that name +shall fail to awaken generous emotions and aspirations for a higher and +worthier manhood! True man and true democrat; faithful always to +Liberty, following wherever she led, whether the storm beat in his face +or on his back; unhesitatingly counting her enemies his own, whether in +the guise of Whig monopoly and selfish expediency, or democratic +servility north of Mason and Dixon's line towards democratic slaveholding +south of it; poor, yet incorruptible; dependent upon party favor, as a +party editor, yet risking all in condemnation of that party, when in the +wrong; a man of the people, yet never stooping to flatter the people's +prejudices,--he is the politician, of all others, whom we would hold up +to the admiration and imitation of the young men of our country. What +Fletcher of Saltoun is to Scotland, and the brave spirits of the old +Commonwealth time-- + + "Hands that penned + And tongues that uttered wisdom, better none + The later Sydney, Marvell, Harrington, + Young Vane, and others, who called Milton friend--" + +are to England, should Leggett be to America. His character was formed +on these sturdy democratic models. Had he lived in their day, he would +have scraped with old Andrew Marvell the bare blade-bone of poverty, or +even laid his head on the block with Vane, rather than forego his +independent thought and speech. + +Of the early life of William Leggett we have no very definite knowledge. +Born in moderate circumstances; at first a woodsman in the Western +wilderness, then a midshipman in the navy, then a denizen of New York; +exposed to sore hardships and perilous temptations, he worked his way by +the force of his genius to the honorable position of associate editor of +the Evening Post, the leading democratic journal of our great commercial +metropolis. Here he became early distinguished for his ultraism in +democracy. His whole soul revolted against oppression. He was for +liberty everywhere and in all things, in thought, in speech, in vote, in +religion, in government, and in trade; he was for throwing off all +restraints upon the right of suffrage; regarding all men as brethren, he +looked with disapprobation upon attempts to exclude foreigners from the +rights of citizenship; he was for entire freedom of commerce; he +denounced a national bank; he took the lead in opposition to the monopoly +of incorporated banks; he argued in favor of direct taxation, and +advocated a free post-office, or a system by which letters should be +transported, as goods and passengers now are, by private enterprise. In +all this he was thoroughly in earnest. That he often erred through +passion and prejudice cannot be doubted; but in no instance was he found +turning aside from the path which he believed to be the true one, from +merely selfish considerations. He was honest alike to himself and the +public. Every question which was thrown up before him by the waves of +political or moral agitation he measured by his standard of right and +truth, and condemned or advocated it in utter disregard of prevailing +opinions, of its effect upon his pecuniary interest, or of his standing +with his party. The vehemence of his passions sometimes betrayed him +into violence of language and injustice to his opponents; but he had that +rare and manly trait which enables its possessor, whenever he becomes +convinced of error, to make a prompt acknowledgment of the conviction. + +In the summer of 1834, a series of mobs, directed against the +Abolitionists, who had organized a national society, with the city of New +York as its central point, followed each other in rapid succession. The +houses of the leading men in the society were sacked and pillaged; +meeting-houses broken into and defaced; and the unoffending colored +inhabitants of the city treated with the grossest indignity, and +subjected, in some instances, to shameful personal outrage. It was +emphatically a "Reign of Terror." The press of both political parties +and of the leading religious sects, by appeals to prejudice and passion, +and by studied misrepresentation of the designs and measures of the +Abolitionists, fanned the flame of excitement, until the fury of demons +possessed the misguided populace. To advocate emancipation, or defend +those who did so, in New York, at that period, was like preaching +democracy in Constantinople or religious toleration in Paris on the eve +of St. Bartholomew. Law was prostrated in the dust; to be suspected of +abolitionism was to incur a liability to an indefinite degree of insult +and indignity; and the few and hunted friends of the slave who in those +nights of terror laid their heads upon the pillow did so with the prayer +of the Psalmist on their lips, "Defend me from them that rise up against +me; save me from bloody men." + +At this period the New York Evening Post spoke out strongly in +condemnation of the mob. William Leggett was not then an Abolitionist; +he had known nothing of the proscribed class, save through the cruel +misrepresentations of their enemies; but, true to his democratic faith, +he maintained the right to discuss the question of slavery. The +infection of cowardly fear, which at that time sealed the lips of +multitudes who deplored the excesses of the mob and sympathized with its +victims, never reached him. Boldly, indignantly, he demanded that the +mob should be put down at once by the civil authorities. He declared the +Abolitionists, even if guilty of all that had been charged upon them, +fully entitled to the privileges and immunities of American citizens. He +sternly reprimanded the board of aldermen of the city for rejecting with +contempt the memorial of the Abolitionists to that body, explanatory of +their principles and the measures by which they had sought to disseminate +them. Referring to the determination, expressed by the memorialists in +the rejected document, not to recant or relinquish any principle which +they had adopted, but to live and die by their faith, he said: "In this, +however mistaken, however mad, we may consider their opinions in relation +to the blacks, what honest, independent mind can blame them? Where is +the man so poor of soul, so white-livered, so base, that he would do less +in relation to any important doctrine in which he religiously believed? +Where is the man who would have his tenets drubbed into him by the clubs +of ruffians, or hold his conscience at the dictation of a mob?" + +In the summer of 1835, a mob of excited citizens broke open the post- +office at Charleston, South Carolina, and burnt in the street such papers +and pamphlets as they judged to be "incendiary;" in other words, such as +advocated the application of the democratic principle to the condition of +the slaves of the South. These papers were addressed, not to the slave, +but to the master. They contained nothing which had not been said and +written by Southern men themselves, the Pinkneys, Jeffersons, Henrys, and +Martins, of Maryland and Virginia. The example set at Charleston did not +lack imitators. Every petty postmaster south of Mason and Dixon's line +became ex officio a censor of the press. The Postmaster-General, writing +to his subordinate at Charleston, after stating that the post-office +department had "no legal right to exclude newspapers from the mail, or +prohibit their carriage or delivery, on account of their character or +tendency, real or supposed," declared that he would, nevertheless, give +no aid, directly or indirectly, in circulating publications of an +incendiary or inflammatory character; and assured the perjured +functionary, who had violated his oath of office, that, while he could +not sanction, he would not condemn his conduct. Against this virtual +encouragement of a flagrant infringement of a constitutional right, this +licensing of thousands of petty government officials to sit in their mail +offices--to use the figure of Milton--cross-legged, like so many envious +Junos, in judgment upon the daily offspring of the press, taking counsel +of passion, prejudice, and popular excitement as to what was "incendiary" +or "inflammatory," the Evening Post spoke in tones of manly protest. + +While almost all the editors of his party throughout the country either +openly approved of the conduct of the Postmaster-General or silently +acquiesced in it, William Leggett, who, in the absence of his colleague, +was at that time sole editor of the Post, and who had everything to lose, +in a worldly point of view, by assailing a leading functionary of the +government, who was a favorite of the President and a sharer of his +popularity, did not hesitate as to the course which consistency and duty +required at his hands. He took his stand for unpopular truth, at a time +when a different course on his part could not have failed to secure him +the favor and patronage of his party. In the great struggle with the +Bank of the United States, his services had not been unappreciated by the +President and his friends. Without directly approving the course of the +administration on the question of the rights of the Abolitionists, by +remaining silent in respect to it, he might have avoided all suspicion of +mental and moral independence incompatible with party allegiance. The +impracticable honesty of Leggett, never bending from the erectness of +truth for the sake of that "thrift which follows fawning," dictated a +most severe and scorching review of the letter of the Postmaster-General. +"More monstrous, more detestable doctrines we have never heard +promulgated," he exclaimed in one of his leading editorials. "With what +face, after this, can the Postmaster-General punish a postmaster for any +exercise of the fearfully dangerous power of stopping and destroying any +portion of the mails?" "The Abolitionists do not deserve to be placed on +the same footing with a foreign enemy, nor their publications as the +secret despatches of a spy. They are American citizens, in the exercise +of their undoubted right of citizenship; and however erroneous their +views, however fanatic their conduct, while they act within the limits of +the law, what official functionary, be he merely a subordinate or the +head of the post-office department, shall dare to abridge them of their +rights as citizens, and deny them those facilities of intercourse which +were instituted for the equal accommodation of all? If the American +people will submit to this, let us expunge all written codes, and resolve +society into its original elements, where the might of the strong is +better than the right of the weak." + +A few days after the publication of this manly rebuke, he wrote an +indignantly sarcastic article upon the mobs which were at this time +everywhere summoned to "put down the Abolitionists." The next day, the +4th of the ninth month, 1835, he received a copy of the Address of the +American Anti-Slavery Society to the public, containing a full and +explicit avowal of all the principles and designs of the association. He +gave it a candid perusal, weighed its arguments, compared its doctrines +with those at the foundation of his own political faith, and rose up from +its examination an Abolitionist. He saw that he himself, misled by the +popular clamor, had done injustice to benevolent and self-sacrificing +men; and he took the earliest occasion, in an article of great power and +eloquence, to make the amplest atonement. He declared his entire +concurrence with the views of the American Anti-Slavery Society, with the +single exception of a doubt which rested, on his mind as to the abolition +of slavery in the District of Columbia. We quote from the concluding +paragraph of this article:-- + +"We assert without hesitation, that, if we possessed the right, we should +not scruple to exercise it for the speedy annihilation of servitude and +chains. The impression made in boyhood by the glorious exclamation of +Cato, + + "'A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty + Is worth a whole eternity of bondage!' + +has been worn deeper, not effaced, by time; and we eagerly and ardently +trust that the day will yet arrive when the clank of the bondman's +fetters will form no part of the multitudinous sounds which our country +sends up to Heaven, mingling, as it were, into a song of praise for our +national prosperity. We yearn with strong desire for the day when +freedom shall no longer wave + + "Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.'" + +A few days after, in reply to the assaults made upon him from all +quarters, he calmly and firmly reiterated his determination to maintain +the right of free discussion of the subject of slavery. + +"The course we are pursuing," said he, "is one which we entered upon after +mature deliberation, and we are not to be turned from it by a species of +opposition, the inefficacy of which we have seen displayed in so many +former instances. It is Philip Van Artevelde who says:-- + + "'All my life long, + I have beheld with most respect the man + Who knew himself, and knew the ways before him; + And from among them chose considerately, + With a clear foresight, not a blindfold courage; + And, having chosen, with a steadfast mind. + Pursued his purpose.' + +"This is the sort of character we emulate. If to believe slavery a +deplorable evil and curse, in whatever light it is viewed; if to yearn +for the day which shall break the fetters of three millions of human +beings, and restore to them their birthright of equal freedom; if to be +willing, in season and out of season, to do all in our power to promote +so desirable a result, by all means not inconsistent with higher duty: if +these sentiments constitute us Abolitionists, then are we such, and glory +in the name." + +"The senseless cry of 'Abolitionist' shall never deter us, nor the more +senseless attempt of puny prints to read us out of the democratic party. +The often-quoted and beautiful saying of the Latin historian, Homo sum: +humani nihil a me alienum puto, we apply to the poor slave as well as his +master, and shall endeavor to fulfil towards both the obligations of an +equal humanity." + +The generation which, since the period of which we are speaking, have +risen into active life can have but a faint conception of the boldness of +this movement on the part of William Leggett. To be an Abolitionist then +was to abandon all hope of political preferment or party favor; to be +marked and branded as a social outlaw, under good society's interdict of +food and fire; to hold property, liberty, and life itself at the mercy of +lawless mobs. All this William Leggett clearly saw. He knew how rugged +and thorny was the path upon which, impelled by his love of truth and the +obligations of humanity, he was entering. From hunted and proscribed +Abolitionists and oppressed and spirit-broken colored men, the Pariahs of +American democracy, he could alone expect sympathy. The Whig journals, +with a few honorable exceptions, exulted over what they regarded as the +fall of a formidable opponent; and after painting his abolitionism in the +most hideous colors, held him up to their Southern allies as a specimen +of the radical disorganizers and democratic levellers of the North. His +own party, in consequence, made haste to proscribe him. Government +advertising was promptly withdrawn from his paper. The official journals +of Washington and Albany read him out of the pale of democracy. Father +Ritchie scolded and threatened. The democratic committee issued its bull +against him from Tammany Hall. The resolutions of that committee were +laid before him when he was sinking under a severe illness. Rallying his +energies, he dictated from his sick-bed an answer marked by all his +accustomed vigor and boldness. Its tone was calm, manly, self-relying; +the language of one who, having planted his feet hard down on the rock of +principle, stood there like Luther at Worms, because he "could not +otherwise." Exhausted nature sunk under the effort. A weary sickness of +nearly a year's duration followed. In this sore affliction, deserted as +he was by most of his old political friends, we have reason to know that +he was cheered by the gratitude of those in whose behalf he had well-nigh +made a martyr's sacrifice; and that from the humble hearths of his poor +colored fellow-citizens fervent prayers went up for his restoration. + +His work was not yet done. Purified by trial, he was to stand forth once +more in vindication of the truths of freedom. As soon as his health was +sufficiently reestablished, he commenced the publication of an +independent political and literary journal, under the expressive title of +The Plaindealer. In his first number he stated, that, claiming the right +of absolute freedom of discussion, he should exercise it with no other +limitations than those of his own judgment. A poor man, he admitted that +he established the paper in the expectation of deriving from it a +livelihood, but that even for that object he could not trim its sails to +suit the varying breeze of popular prejudice. "If," said he, "a paper +which makes the Right, and not the Expedient, its cardinal object, will +not yield its conductor a support, there are honest vocations that will, +and better the humblest of them than to be seated at the head of an +influential press, if its influence is not exerted to promote the cause +of truth." He was true to his promise. The free soul of a free, strong +man spoke out in his paper. How refreshing was it, after listening to +the inanities, the dull, witless vulgarity, the wearisome commonplace of +journalists, who had no higher aim than to echo, with parrot-like +exactness, current prejudices and falsehoods, to turn to the great and +generous thoughts, the chaste and vigorous diction, of the Plaindealer! +No man ever had a clearer idea of the duties and responsibilities of a +conductor of the public press than William Leggett, and few have ever +combined so many of the qualifications for their perfect discharge: a +nice sense of justice, a warm benevolence, inflexible truth, honesty +defying temptation, a mind stored with learning, and having at command +the treasures of the best thoughts of the best authors. As was said of +Fletcher of Saltoun, he was "a gentleman steady in his principles; of +nice honor, abundance of learning; bold as a lion; a sure friend; a man +who would lose his life to serve his country, and would not do a base +thing to save it." + +He had his faults: his positive convictions sometimes took the shape +of a proud and obstinate dogmatism; he who could so well appeal to the +judgment and the reason of his readers too often only roused their +passions by invective and vehement declamation. Moderate men were +startled and pained by the fierce energy of his language; and he not +unfrequently made implacable enemies of opponents whom he might have +conciliated and won over by mild expostulation and patient explanation. +It must be urged in extenuation, that, as the champion of unpopular +truths, he was assailed unfairly on all sides, and indecently +misrepresented and calumniated to a degree, as his friend Sedgwick justly +remarks, unprecedented even in the annals of the American press; and that +his errors in this respect were, in the main, errors of retaliation. + +In the Plaindealer, in common with the leading moral and political +subjects of the day, that of slavery was freely discussed in all its +bearings. It is difficult, in a single extract, to convey an adequate +idea of the character of the editorial columns of a paper, where terse +and concentrated irony and sarcasm alternate with eloquent appeal and +diffuse commentary and labored argument. We can only offer at random the +following passages from a long review of a speech of John C. Calhoun, in +which that extraordinary man, whose giant intellect has been shut out of +its appropriate field of exercise by the very slavery of which he is the +champion, undertook to maintain, in reply to a Virginia senator, that +chattel slavery was not an evil, but "a great good." + +"We have Mr. Calhoun's own warrant for attacking his position with all +the fervor which a high sense of duty can give, for we do hold, from the +bottom of our soul, that slavery is an evil,--a deep, detestable, +damnable evil; evil in all its aspects to the blacks, and a greater evil +to the whites; an evil moral, social, and political; an evil which shows +itself in the languishing condition of agriculture where it exists, in +paralyzed commerce, and in the prostration of the mechanic arts; an evil +which stares you in the face from uncultivated fields, and howls in your +ears through tangled swamps and morasses. Slavery is such an evil that +it withers what it touches. Where it is once securely established the +land becomes desolate, as the tree inevitably perishes which the sea-hawk +chooses for its nest; while freedom, on the contrary, flourishes like the +tannen, 'on the loftiest and least sheltered rocks,' and clothes with its +refreshing verdure what, without it, would frown in naked and incurable +sterility. + +"If any one desires an illustration of the opposite influences of slavery +and freedom, let him look at the two sister States of Kentucky and Ohio. +Alike in soil and climate, and divided only by a river, whose translucent +waters reveal, through nearly the whole breadth, the sandy bottom over +which they sparkle, how different are they in all the respects over which +man has control! On the one hand the air is vocal with the mingled +tumult of a vast and prosperous population. Every hillside smiles with +an abundant harvest, every valley shelters a thriving village, the click +of a busy mill drowns the prattle of every rivulet, and all the +multitudinous sounds of business denote happy activity in every branch +of social occupation. + +"This is the State which, but a few years ago, slept in the unbroken +solitude of nature. The forest spread an interminable canopy of shade +over the dark soil on which the fat and useless vegetation rotted at +ease, and through the dusky vistas of the wood only savage beasts and +more savage men prowled in quest of prey. The whole land now blossoms +like a garden. The tall and interlacing trees have unlocked their hold, +and bowed before the woodman's axe. The soil is disencumbered of the +mossy trunks which had reposed upon it for ages. The rivers flash in the +sunlight, and the fields smile with waving harvests. This is Ohio, and +this is what freedom has done for it. + +"Now, let us turn to Kentucky, and note the opposite influences of +slavery. A narrow and unfrequented path through the close and sultry +canebrake conducts us to a wretched hovel. It stands in the midst of an +unweeded field, whose dilapidated enclosure scarcely protects it from the +lowing and hungry kine. Children half clad and squalid, and destitute of +the buoyancy natural to their age, lounge in the sunshine, while their +parent saunters apart, to watch his languid slaves drive the ill- +appointed team afield. This is not a fancy picture. It is a true copy +of one of the features which make up the aspect 'of the State, and of +every State where the moral leprosy of slavery covers the people with its +noisome scales; a deadening lethargy benumbs the limbs of the body +politic; a stupor settles on the arts of life; agriculture reluctantly +drags the plough and harrow to the field, only when scourged by +necessity; the axe drops from the woodman's nerveless hand the moment his +fire is scantily supplied with fuel; and the fen, undrained, sends up its +noxious exhalations, to rack with cramps and agues the frame already too +much enervated by a moral epidemic to creep beyond the sphere of the +material miasm." + +The Plaindealer was uniformly conducted with eminent ability; but its +editor was too far in advance of his contemporaries to find general +acceptance, or even toleration. In addition to pecuniary embarrassments, +his health once more failed, and in the autumn of 1837 he was compelled +to suspend the publication of his paper. One of the last articles which +he wrote for it shows the extent to which he was sometimes carried by the +intensity and depth of his abhorrence of oppression, and the fervency of +his adoration of liberty. Speaking of the liability of being called upon +to aid the master in the subjection of revolted slaves, and in replacing +their cast-off fetters, he thus expresses himself: "Would we comply with +such a requisition? No! Rather would we see our right arm lopped from +our body, and the mutilated trunk itself gored with mortal wounds, than +raise a finger in opposition to men struggling in the holy cause of +freedom. The obligations of citizenship are strong, but those of +justice, humanity, and religion, stronger. We earnestly trust that the +great contest of opinion which is now going on in this country may +terminate in the enfranchisement of the slaves, without recourse to the +strife of blood; but should the oppressed bondmen, impatient of the tardy +progress of truth, urged only in discussion, attempt to burst their +chains by a more violent and shorter process, they should never encounter +our arm nor hear our voice in the ranks of their opponents. We should +stand a sad spectator of the conflict; and, whatever commiseration we +might feel for the discomfiture of the oppressors, we should pray that +the battle might end in giving freedom to the oppressed." + +With the Plain dealer, his connection with the public, in a great +measure, ceased. His steady and intimate friend, personal as well as +political, Theodore Sedgwick, Jun., a gentleman who has, on many +occasions, proved himself worthy of his liberty-loving ancestry, thus +speaks of him in his private life at this period: "Amid the reverses of +fortune, harassed by pecuniary embarrassments, during the tortures of a +disease which tore away his life piecemeal, hee ever maintained the same +manly and unaltered front, the same cheerfulness of disposition, the same +dignity of conduct. No humiliating solicitation, no weak complaint, +escaped him." At the election in the fall of 1838, the noble-spirited +democrat was not wholly forgotten. A strenuous effort, which was well- +nigh successful, was made to secure his nomination as a candidate for +Congress. It was at this juncture that he wrote to a friend in the city, +from his residence at New Rochelle, one of the noblest letters ever +penned by a candidate for popular favor. The following extracts will +show how a true man can meet the temptations of political life:-- + +"What I am most afraid of is, that some of my friends, in their too +earnest zeal, will place me in a false position on the subject of +slavery. I am an Abolitionist. I hate slavery in all its forms, +degrees, and influences; and I deem myself bound, by the highest moral +and political obligations, not to let that sentiment of hate lie dormant +and smouldering in my own breast, but to give it free vent, and let it +blaze forth, that it may kindle equal ardor through the whole sphere of +my influence. I would not have this fact disguised or mystified for any +office the people have it in their power to give. Rather, a thousand +times rather, would I again meet the denunciations of Tammany Hall, and +be stigmatized with all the foul epithets with which the anti-abolition +vocabulary abounds, than recall or deny one tittle of my creed. +Abolition is, in my sense, a necessary and a glorious part of democracy; +and I hold the right and duty to discuss the subject of slavery, and to +expose its hideous evils in all their bearings,--moral, social, and +political,--as of infinitely higher importance than to carry fifty sub- +treasury bills. That I should discharge this duty temperately; that I +should not let it come in collision with other duties; that I should not +let my hatred of slavery transcend the express obligations of the +Constitution, or violate its clear spirit, I hope and trust you think +sufficiently well of me to believe. But what I fear is, (not from you, +however,) that some of my advocates and champions will seek to recommend +me to popular support by representing me as not an Abolitionist, which is +false. All that I have written gives the lie to it. All I shall write +will give the lie to it. + +"And here, let me add, (apart from any consideration already adverted +to,) that, as a matter of mere policy, I would not, if I could, have my +name disjoined from abolitionism. To be an Abolitionist now is to be an +incendiary; as, three years ago, to be an anti-monopolist was to be a +leveller and a Jack Cade. See what three short years have done in +effecting the anti-monopoly reform; and depend upon it that the next +three years, or, if not three, say three times three, if you please, will +work a greater revolution on the slavery question. The stream of public +opinion now sets against us; but it is about to turn, and the +regurgitation will be tremendous. Proud in that day may well be the man +who can float in triumph on the first refluent wave, swept onward by the +deluge which he himself, in advance of his fellows, has largely shared in +occasioning. Such be my fate; and, living or dead, it will, in some +measure, be mine! I have written my name in ineffaceable letters on the +abolition record; and whether the reward ultimately come in the shape of +honors to the living man, or a tribute to the memory of a departed one, I +would not forfeit my right to it for as many offices as has in his gift, +if each of them was greater than his own." + +After mentioning that he had understood that some of his friends had +endeavored to propitiate popular prejudice by representing him as no +Abolitionist, he says:-- + +"Keep them, for God's sake, from committing any such fooleries for the +sake of getting me into Congress. Let others twist themselves into what +shapes they please, to gratify the present taste of the people; as for +me, I am not formed of such pliant materials, and choose to retain, +undisturbed, the image of my God! I do not wish to cheat the people of +their votes. I would not get their support, any more than their money, +under false pretences. I am what I am; and if that does not suit them, +I am content to stay at home." + +God be praised for affording us, even in these latter days, the sight of +an honest man! Amidst the heartlessness, the double-dealing, the +evasions, the prevarications, the shameful treachery and falsehood, of +political men of both parties, in respect to the question of slavery, how +refreshing is it to listen to words like these! They renew our failing +faith in human nature. They reprove our weak misgivings. We rise up +from their perusal stronger and healthier. With something of the spirit +which dictated them, we renew our vows to freedom, and, with manlier +energy, gird up our souls for the stern struggle before us. + +As might have been expected, and as he himself predicted, the efforts of +his friends to procure his nomination failed; but the same generous +appreciators of his rare worth were soon after more successful in their +exertions in his behalf. He received from President Van Buren the +appointment of the mission to Guatemala,--an appointment which, in +addition to honorable employment in the service of his country, promised +him the advantages of a sea voyage and a change of climate, for the +restoration of his health. The course of Martin Van Buren on the subject +of slavery in the District of Columbia forms, in the estimation of many +of his best friends, by no means the most creditable portion of his +political history; but it certainly argues well for his magnanimity and +freedom from merely personal resentment that he gave this appointment to +the man who had animadverted upon that course with the greatest freedom, +and whose rebuke of the veto pledge, severe in its truth and justice, +formed the only discord in the paean of partisan flattery which greeted +his inaugural. But, however well intended, it came too late. In the +midst of the congratulations of his friends on the brightening prospect +before him, the still hopeful and vigorous spirit of William Leggett was +summoned away by death. Universal regret was awakened. Admiration of +his intellectual power, and that generous and full appreciation of his +high moral worth which had been in too many instances withheld from the +living man by party policy and prejudice, were now freely accorded to the +dead. The presses of both political parties vied with each other in +expressions of sorrow at the loss of a great and true man. The +Democracy, through all its organs, hastened to canonize him as one of the +saints of its calendar. The general committee, in New York, expunged +their resolutions of censure. The Democratic Review, at that period the +most respectable mouthpiece of the democratic party, made him the subject +of exalted eulogy. His early friend and co-editor, William Cullen +Bryant, laid upon his grave the following tribute, alike beautiful and +true:-- + + "The earth may ring, from shore to shore, + With echoes of a glorious name, + But he whose loss our tears deplore + Has left behind him more than fame. + + "For when the death-frost came to lie + On Leggett's warm and mighty heart, + And quenched his bold and friendly eye, + His spirit did not all depart. + + "The words of fire that from his pen + He flung upon the lucid page + Still move, still shake the hearts of men, + Amid a cold and coward age. + + "His love of Truth, too warm, too strong, + For Hope or Fear to chain or chill, + His hate of tyranny and wrong, + Burn in the breasts they kindled still." + +So lived and died William Leggett. What a rebuke of party perfidy, of +political meanness, of the common arts and stratagems of demagogues, +comes up from his grave! How the cheek of mercenary selfishness crimsons +at the thought of his incorruptible integrity! How heartless and hollow +pretenders, who offer lip service to freedom, while they give their hands +to whatever work their slaveholding managers may assign them; who sit in +chains round the crib of governmental patronage, putting on the spaniel, +and putting off the man, and making their whole lives a miserable lie, +shrink back from a contrast with the proud and austere dignity of his +character! What a comment on their own condition is the memory of a man +who could calmly endure the loss of party favor, the reproaches of his +friends, the malignant assaults of his enemies, and the fretting evils of +poverty, in the hope of bequeathing, like the dying testator of Ford, + + "A fame by scandal untouched, + To Memory and Time's old daughter, Truth." + +The praises which such men are now constrained to bestow upon him are +their own condemnation. Every stone which they pile upon his grave is +written over with the record of their hypocrisy. + +We have written rather for the living than the dead. As one of that +proscribed and hunted band of Abolitionists, whose rights were so bravely +defended by William Leggett, we should, indeed, be wanting in ordinary +gratitude not to do honor to his memory; but we have been actuated at the +present time mainly by a hope that the character, the lineaments of which +we have so imperfectly sketched, may awaken a generous emulation in the +hearts of the young democracy of our country. Democracy such as William +Leggett believed and practised, democracy in its full and all- +comprehensive significance, is destined to be the settled political faith +of this republic. Because the despotism of slavery has usurped its name, +and offered the strange incense of human tears and blood on its profaned +altars, shall we, therefore, abandon the only political faith which +coincides with the Gospel of Jesus, and meets the aspirations and wants +of humanity? No. The duty of the present generation in the United +States is to reduce this faith to practice, to make the beautiful ideal a +fact. + +"Every American," says Leggett, "who in any way countenances slavery is +derelict to his duty, as a Christian, a patriot, a man; and every one +does countenance and authorize it who suffers any opportunity of +expressing his deep abhorrence of its manifold abominations to pass +unimproved." The whole world has an interest in this matter. The +influence of our democratic despotism is exerted against the liberties of +Europe. Political reformers in the Old World, who have testified to +their love of freedom by serious sacrifices, hold but one language on +this point. They tell us that American slavery furnishes kings and +aristocracies with their most potent arguments; that it is a perpetual +drag on the wheel of political progress. + +We have before us, at this time, a letter from Seidensticker, one of the +leaders of the patriotic movement in behalf of German liberty in 1831. +It was written from the prison of Celle, where he had been confined for +eight years. The writer expresses his indignant astonishment at the +speeches of John C. Calhoun, and others in Congress, on the slavery +question, and deplores the disastrous influence of our great +inconsistency upon the cause of freedom throughout the world,--an +influence which paralyzes the hands of the patriotic reformer, while it +strengthens those of his oppressor, and deepens around the living martyrs +and confessors of European democracy the cold shadow of their prisons. + +Joseph Sturge, of Birmingham, the President of the British Free Suffrage +Union, and whose philanthropy and democracy have been vouched for by the +Democratic Review in this country, has the following passage in an +address to the citizens of the United States: "Although an admirer of the +institutions of your country, and deeply lamenting the evils of my own +government, I find it difficult to reply to those who are opposed to any +extension of the political rights of Englishmen, when they point to +America, and say that where all have a control over the legislation but +those who are guilty of a dark skin, slavery and the slave trade remain, +not only unmitigated, but continue to extend; and that while there is an +onward movement in favor of its extinction, not only in England and +France, but in Cuba and Brazil, American legislators cling to this +enormous evil, without attempting to relax or mitigate its horrors." + +How long shall such appeals, from such sources, be wasted upon us? Shall +our baleful example enslave the world? Shall the tree of democracy, +which our fathers intended for "the healing of the nations," be to them +like the fabled upas, blighting all around it? + +The men of the North, the pioneers of the free West, and the non- +slaveholders of the South must answer these questions. It is for them to +say whether the present wellnigh intolerable evil shall continue to +increase its boundaries, and strengthen its hold upon the government, the +political parties, and the religious sects of our country. Interest and +honor, present possession and future hope, the memory of fathers, the +prospects of children, gratitude, affection, the still call of the dead, +the cry of oppressed nations looking hitherward for the result of all +their hopes, the voice of God in the soul, in revelation, and in His +providence, all appeal to them for a speedy and righteous decision. At +this moment, on the floor of Congress, Democracy and Slavery have met in +a death-grapple. The South stands firm; it allows no party division on +the slave question. One of its members has declared that "the slave +States have no traitors." Can the same be said of the free? Now, as in +the time of the fatal Missouri Compromise, there are, it is to be feared, +political peddlers among our representatives, whose souls are in the +market, and whose consciences are vendible commodities. Through their +means, the slave power may gain a temporary triumph; but may not the very +baseness of the treachery arouse the Northern heart? By driving the free +States to the wall, may it not compel them to turn and take an aggressive +attitude, clasp hands over the altar of their common freedom, and swear +eternal hostility to slavery? + +Be the issue of the present contest what it may, those who are faithful +to freedom should allow no temporary reverse to shake their confidence in +the ultimate triumph of the right. The slave will be free. Democracy in +America will yet be a glorious reality; and when the topstone of that +temple of freedom which our fathers left unfinished shall be brought +forth with shoutings and cries of grace unto it, when our now drooping- +Liberty lifts up her head and prospers, happy will be he who can say, +with John Milton, "Among those who have something more than wished her +welfare, I too have my charter and freehold of rejoicing to me and my +heirs." + + + + +NATHANIEL PEABODY ROGERS. + + "And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, + Has vanished from his kindly hearth." + +So, in one of the sweetest and most pathetic of his poems touching the +loss of his literary friends, sang Wordsworth. We well remember with +what freshness and vividness these simple lines came before us, on +hearing, last autumn, of the death of the warm-hearted and gifted friend +whose name heads this article; for there was much in his character and +genius to remind us of the gentle author of Elia. He had the latter's +genial humor and quaintness; his nice and delicate perception of the +beautiful and poetic; his happy, easy diction, not the result, as in the +case of that of the English essayist, of slow and careful elaboration, +but the natural, spontaneous language in which his conceptions at once +embodied themselves, apparently without any consciousness of effort. As +Mark Antony talked, he wrote, "right on," telling his readers often what +"they themselves did know," yet imparting to the simplest commonplaces of +life interest and significance, and throwing a golden haze of poetry over +the rough and thorny pathways of every-day duty. Like Lamb, he loved his +friends without stint or limit. The "old familiar faces" haunted him. +Lamb loved the streets and lanes of London--the places where he oftenest +came in contact with the warm, genial heart of humanity--better than the +country. Rogers loved the wild and lonely hills and valleys of New +Hampshire none the less that he was fully alive to the enjoyments of +society, and could enter with the heartiest sympathy into all the joys +and sorrows of his friends and neighbors. + +In another point of view, he was not unlike Elia. He had the same love +of home, and home friends, and familiar objects; the same fondness for +common sights and sounds; the same dread of change; the same shrinking +from the unknown and the dark. Like him, he clung with a child's love to +the living present, and recoiled from a contemplation of the great change +which awaits us. Like him, he was content with the goodly green earth +and human countenances, and would fain set up his tabernacle here. He +had less of what might be termed self-indulgence in this feeling than +Lamb. He had higher views; he loved this world not only for its own +sake, but for the opportunities it afforded of doing good. Like the +Persian seer, he beheld the legions of Ormuzd and Ahriman, of Light and +Darkness, contending for mastery over the earth, as the sunshine and +shadow of a gusty, half-cloudy day struggled on the green slopes of his +native mountains; and, mingled with the bright host, he would fain have +fought on until its banners waved in eternal sunshine over the last +hiding-place of darkness. He entered into the work of reform with the +enthusiasm and chivalry of a knight of the crusades. He had faith in +human progress,--in the ultimate triumph of the good; millennial lights +beaconed up all along his horizon. In the philanthropic movements of the +day; in the efforts to remove the evils of slavery, war, intemperance, +and sanguinary laws; in the humane and generous spirit of much of our +modern poetry and literature; in the growing demand of the religious +community, of all sects, for the preaching of the gospel of love and +humanity, he heard the low and tremulous prelude of the great anthem of +universal harmony. "The world," said he, in a notice of the music of the +Hutchinson family, "is out of tune now. But it will be tuned again, and +all will become harmony." In this faith he lived and acted; working, not +always, as it seemed to some of his friends, wisely, but bravely, +truthfully, earnestly, cheering on his fellow-laborers, and imparting to +the dullest and most earthward looking of them something of his own zeal +and loftiness of purpose. + +"Who was he?" does the reader ask? Naturally enough, too, for his name +has never found its way into fashionable reviews; it has never been +associated with tale, or essay, or poem, to our knowledge. Our friend +Griswold, who, like another Noah, has launched some hundreds of American +poets and prose writers on the tide of immortality in his two huge arks +of rhyme and reason, has either overlooked his name, or deemed it +unworthy of preservation. Then, too, he was known mainly as the editor +of a proscribed and everywhere-spoken-against anti-slavery paper. It had +few readers of literary taste and discrimination; plain, earnest men and +women, intent only upon the thought itself, and caring little for the +clothing of it, loved the _Herald of Freedom_ for its honestness and +earnestness, and its bold rebukes of the wrong, its all-surrendering +homage to what its editor believed to be right. But the literary world +of authors and critics saw and heard little or nothing of him or his +writings. "I once had a bit of scholar-craft," he says of himself on one +occasion, "and had I attempted it in some pitiful sectarian or party or +literary sheet, I should have stood a chance to get quoted into the +periodicals. Now, who dares quote from the _Herald of Freedom_?" He +wrote for humanity, as his biographer justly says, not for fame. "He +wrote because he had something to say, and true to nature, for to him +nature was truth; he spoke right on, with the artlessness and simplicity +of a child." + +He was born in Plymouth, New Hampshire, in the sixth month of 1794,-- +a lineal descendant from John Rogers, of martyr-memory. Educated at +Dartmouth College, he studied law with Hon. Richard Fletcher, of +Salisbury, New Hampshire, now of Boston, and commenced the practice of it +in 1819, in his native village. He was diligent and successful in his +profession, although seldom known as a pleader. About the year 1833, he +became interested in the anti-slavery movement. His was one of the few +voices of encouragement and sympathy which greeted the author of this +sketch on the publication of a pamphlet in favor of immediate +emancipation. He gave us a kind word of approval, and invited us to his +mountain home, on the banks of the Pemigewasset,--an invitation which, +two years afterwards, we accepted. In the early autumn, in company with +George Thompson, (the eloquent reformer, who has since been elected a +member of the British Parliament from the Tower Hamlets,) we drove up the +beautiful valley of the White Mountain tributary of the Merrimac, and, +just as a glorious sunset was steeping river, valley, and mountain in its +hues of heaven, were welcomed to the pleasant home and family circle of +our friend Rogers. We spent two delightful evenings with him. His +cordiality, his warm-hearted sympathy in our object, his keen wit, +inimitable humor, and childlike and simple mirthfulness, his full +appreciation of the beautiful in art and nature, impressed us with the +conviction that we were the guests of no ordinary man; that we were +communing with unmistakable genius, such an one as might have added to +the wit and eloquence of Ben Jonson's famous club at the _Mermaid_, or +that which Lamb and Coleridge and Southey frequented at the _Salutation +and Cat_, of Smithfield. "The most brilliant man I have met in America!" +said George Thompson, as we left the hospitable door of our friend. + +In 1838, he gave up his law practice, left his fine outlook at Plymouth +upon the mountains of the North, Moosehillock and the Haystacks, and took +up his residence at Concord, for the purpose of editing the _Herald of +Freedom_, an anti-slavery paper which had been started some three or four +years before. John Pierpont, than whom there could not be a more +competent witness, in his brief and beautiful sketch of the life and +writings of Rogers, does not overestimate the ability with which the +Herald was conducted, when he says of its editor: "As a newspaper writer, +we think him unequalled by any living man; and in the general strength, +clearness, and quickness of his intellect, we think all who knew him well +will agree with us that he was not excelled by any editor in the +country." He was not a profound reasoner: his imagination and brilliant +fancy played the wildest tricks with his logic; yet, considering the way +by which he reached them, it is remarkable that his conclusions were so +often correct. The tendency of his mind was to extremes. A zealous +Calvinistic church-member, he became an equally zealous opponent of +churches and priests; a warm politician, he became an ultra non-resistant +and no-government man. In all this, his sincerity was manifest. If, in +the indulgence of his remarkable powers of sarcasm, in the free antics of +a humorous fancy, upon whose graceful neck he had flung loose the reins, +he sometimes did injustice to individuals, and touched, in irreverent +sport, the hem of sacred garments, it had the excuse, at least, of a +generous and honest motive. If he sometimes exaggerated, those who best, +knew him can testify that he "set down naught in malice." + +We have before us a printed collection of his writings,--hasty +editorials, flung off without care or revision, the offspring of sudden +impulse frequently; always free, artless, unstudied; the language +transparent as air, exactly expressing the thought. He loved the common, +simple dialect of the people,--the "beautiful strong old Saxon,--the talk +words." He had an especial dislike of learned and "dictionary words." +He used to recommend Cobbett's Works to "every young man and woman who +has been hurt in his or her talk and writing by going to school." + +Our limits will not admit of such extracts from the Collection of his +writings as would convey to our readers an adequate idea of his thought +and manner. His descriptions of natural scenery glow with life. One can +almost see the sunset light flooding the Franconia Notch, and glorifying +the peaks of Moosehillock, and hear the murmur of the west wind in the +pines, and the light, liquid voice of Pemigewasset sounding up from its +rocky channel, through its green hem of maples, while reading them. We +give a brief extract from an editorial account of an autumnal trip to +Vermont: + +"We have recently journeyed through a portion of this, free State; and it +is not all imagination in us that sees, in its bold scenery, its +uninfected inland position, its mountainous but fertile and verdant +surface, the secret of the noble predisposition of its people. They are +located for freedom. Liberty's home is on their Green Mountains. Their +farmer republic nowhere touches the ocean, the highway of the world's +crimes, as well as its nations. It has no seaport for the importation of +slavery, or the exportation of its own highland republicanism. Should +slavery ever prevail over this nation, to its utter subjugation, the last +lingering footsteps of retiring Liberty will be seen, not, as Daniel +Webster said, in the proud old Commonwealth of Massachusetts, about +Bunker Hill and Faneuil Hall; but she will be found wailing, like +Jephthah's daughter, among the 'hollows' and along the sides of the Green +Mountains. + +"Vermont shows gloriously at this autumn season. Frost has gently laid +hands on her exuberant vegetation, tinging her rock-maple woods without +abating the deep verdure of her herbage. Everywhere along her peopled +hollows and her bold hillslopes and summits the earth is alive with +green, while her endless hard-wood forests are uniformed with all the +hues of early fall, richer than the regimentals of the kings that +glittered in the train of Napoleon on the confines of Poland, when he +lingered there, on the last outposts of summer, before plunging into the +snow-drifts of the North; more gorgeous than the array of Saladin's life- +guard in the wars of the Crusaders, or of 'Solomon in all his glory,' +decked in, all colors and hues, but still the hues of life. Vegetation +touched, but not dead, or, if killed, not bereft yet of 'signs of life.' +'Decay's effacing fingers' had not yet 'swept the hills' 'where beauty +lingers.' All looked fresh as growing foliage. Vermont frosts don't seem +to be 'killing frosts.' They only change aspects of beauty. The mountain +pastures, verdant to the peaks, and over the peaks of the high, steep +hills, were covered with the amplest feed, and clothed with countless +sheep; the hay-fields heavy with second crop, in some partly cut and +abandoned, as if in very weariness and satiety, blooming with +honeysuckle, contrasting strangely with the colors on the woods; the fat +cattle and the long-tailed colts and close-built Morgans wallowing in it +up to the eyes, or the cattle down to rest, with full bellies, by ten in +the morning. Fine but narrow roads wound along among the hills, free +almost entirely of stone, and so smooth as to be safe for the most rapid +driving, made of their rich, dark, powder-looking soil. Beautiful +villages or scattered settlements breaking upon the delighted view, on +the meandering way, making the ride a continued scene of excitement and +admiration. The air fresh, free, and wholesome; the road almost dead +level for miles and miles, among mountains that lay over the land like +the great swells of the sea, and looking in the prospect as though there +could be no passage." + +To this autumnal limning, the following spring picture may be a fitting +accompaniment:-- + +"At last Spring is here in full flush. Winter held on tenaciously and +mercilessly, but it has let go. The great sun is high on his northern +journey, and the vegetation, and the bird-singing, and the loud frog- +chorus, the tree budding and blowing, are all upon us; and the glorious +grass--super-best of earth's garniture--with its ever-satisfying green. +The king-birds have come, and the corn-planter, the scolding bob-o-link. +'Plant your corn, plant your corn,' says he, as he scurries athwart the +ploughed ground, hardly lifting his crank wings to a level with his back, +so self-important is he in his admonitions. The earlier birds have gone +to housekeeping, and have disappeared from the spray. There has been +brief period for them, this spring, for scarcely has the deep snow gone, +but the dark-green grass has come, and first we shall know, the ground +will be yellow with dandelions. + +"I incline to thank Heaven this glorious morning of May 16th for the +pleasant home from which we can greet the Spring. Hitherto we have had +to await it amid a thicket of village houses, low down, close together, +and awfully white. For a prospect, we had the hinder part of an ugly +meeting-house, which an enterprising neighbor relieved us of by planting +a dwelling-house, right before our eyes, (on his own land, and he had a +right to,) which relieved us also of all prospect whatever. And the +revival spirit of habitation which has come over Concord is clapping up a +house between every two in the already crowded town; and the prospect is, +it will be soon all buildings. They are constructing, in quite good +taste though, small, trim, cottage-like. But I had rather be where I can +breathe air, and see beyond my own features, than be smothered among the +prettiest houses ever built. We are on the slope of a hill; it is all +sand, be sure, on all four sides of us, but the air is free, (and the +sand, too, at times,) and our water, there is danger of hard drinking to +live by it. Air and water, the two necessaries of life, and high, free +play-ground for the small ones. There is a sand precipice hard by, high +enough, were it only rock and overlooked the ocean, to be as sublime as +any of the Nahant cliffs. As it is, it is altogether a safer haunt for +daring childhood, which could hardly break its neck by a descent of some +hundreds of feet. + +"A low flat lies between us and the town, with its State-house, and body- +guard of well-proportioned steeples standing round. It was marshy and +wet, but is almost all redeemed by the translation into it of the high +hills of sand. It must have been a terrible place for frogs, judging +from what remains of it. Bits of water from the springs hard by lay here +and there about the low ground, which are peopled as full of singers as +ever the gallery of the old North Meeting-house was, and quite as +melodious ones. Such performers I never heard, in marsh or pool. They +are not the great, stagnant, bull-paddocks, fat and coarse-noted like +Parson, but clear-water frogs, green, lively, and sweet-voiced. I +passed their orchestra going home the other evening, with a small lad, +and they were at it, all parts, ten thousand peeps, shrill, ear-piercing, +and incessant, coming up from every quarter, accompanied by a second, +from some larger swimmer with his trombone, and broken in upon, every now +and then, but not discordantly, with the loud, quick hallo, that +resembles the cry of the tree-toad. 'There are the Hutchinsons,' cried +the lad. 'The Rainers,' responded I, glad to remember enough of my +ancient Latin to know that Rana, or some such sounding word, stood for +frog. But it was a 'band of music,' as the Miller friends say. Like +other singers, (all but the Hutchinsons,) these are apt to sing too much, +all the time they are awake, constituting really too much of a good +thing. I have wondered if the little reptiles were singing in concert, +or whether every one peeped on his own hook, their neighbor hood only +making it a chorus. I incline to the opinion that they are performing +together, that they know the tune, and each carries his part, self- +selected, in free meeting, and therefore never discordant. The hour rule +of Congress might be useful, though far less needed among the frogs than +among the profane croakers of the fens at Washington." + +Here is a sketch of the mountain scenery of New Hampshire, as seen from +the Holderness Mountain, or North Hill, during a visit which he made to +his native valley in the autumn of 1841:-- + +"The earth sphered up all around us, in every quarter of the horizon, +like the crater of a vast volcano, and the great hollow within the +mountain circle was as smoky as Vesuvius or Etna in their recess of +eruption. The little village of Plymouth lay right at our feet, with its +beautiful expanse of intervale opening on the eye like a lake among the +woods and hills, and the Pemigewasset, bordered along its crooked way +with rows of maples, meandering from upland to upland through the +meadows. Our young footsteps had wandered over these localities. Time +had cast it all far back that Pemigewasset, with its meadows and border +trees; that little village whitening in the margin of its inter vale; and +that one house which we could distinguish, where the mother that watched +over and endured our wayward childhood totters at fourscore! + +"To the south stretched a broken, swelling upland country, but champaign +from the top of North Hill, patched all over with grain-fields and green +wood-lots, the roofs of the farm-houses shining in the sun. Southwest, +the Cardigan Mountain showed its bald forehead among the smokes of a +thousand fires, kindled in the woods in the long drought. Westward, +Moosehillock heaved up its long back, black as a whale; and turning the +eye on northward, glancing down the while on the Baker's River valley, +dotted over with human dwellings like shingle-bunches for size, you +behold the great Franconia Range, its Notch and its Haystacks, the +Elephant Mountain on the left, and Lafayette (Great Haystack) on the +right, shooting its peak in solemn loneliness high up into the desert +sky, and overtopping all the neighboring Alps but Mount Washington +itself. The prospect of these is most impressive and satisfactory. We +don't believe the earth presents a finer mountain display. The Haystacks +stand there like the Pyramids on the wall of mountains. One of them +eminently has this Egyptian shape. It is as accurate a pyramid to the +eye as any in the old valley of the Nile, and a good deal bigger than any +of those hoary monuments of human presumption, of the impious tyranny of +monarchs and priests, and of the appalling servility of the erecting +multitude. Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh does not more finely resemble a +sleeping lion than the huge mountain on the left of the Notch does an +elephant, with his great, overgrown rump turned uncivilly toward the gap +where the people have to pass. Following round the panorama, you come to +the Ossipees and the Sandwich Mountains, peaks innumerable and nameless, +and of every variety of fantastic shape. Down their vast sides are +displayed the melancholy-looking slides, contrasting with the fathomless +woods. + +"But the lakes,--you see lakes, as well as woods and mountains, from the +top of North Hill. Newfound Lake in Hebron, only eight miles distant, +you can't see; it lies too deep among the hills. Ponds show their small +blue mirrors from various quarters of the great picture. Worthen's Mill- +Pond and the Hardhack, where we used to fish for trout in truant, +barefooted days, Blair's Mill-Pond, White Oak Pond, and Long Pond, and +the Little Squam, a beautiful dark sheet of deep, blue water, about two +miles long, stretched an id the green hills and woods, with a charming +little beach at its eastern end, and without an island. And then the +Great Squam, connected with it on the east by a short, narrow stream, the +very queen of ponds, with its fleet of islands, surpassing in beauty all +the foreign waters we have seen, in Scotland or elsewhere,--the islands +covered with evergreens, which impart their hue to the mass of the lake, +as it stretches seven miles on east from its smaller sister, towards the +peerless Winnipesaukee. Great Squam is as beautiful as water and island +can be. But Winnipesaukee, it is the very 'Smile of the Great Spirit.' +It looks as if it had a thousand islands; some of them large enough for +little towns, and others not bigger than a swan or a wild duck swimming +on its surface of glass." + +His wit and sarcasm were generally too good-natured to provoke even their +unfortunate objects, playing all over his editorials like the thunderless +lightnings which quiver along the horizon of a night of summer calmness; +but at times his indignation launched them like bolts from heaven. Take +the following as a specimen. He is speaking of the gag rule of Congress, +and commending Southern representatives for their skilful selection of a +proper person to do their work:-- + +"They have a quick eye at the South to the character, or, as they would +say, the points of a slave. They look into him shrewdly, as an old +jockey does into a horse. They will pick him out, at rifle-shot +distance, among a thousand freemen. They have a nice eye to detect +shades of vassalage. They saw in the aristocratic popinjay strut of a +counterfeit Democrat an itching aspiration to play the slaveholder. They +beheld it in 'the cut of his jib,' and his extreme Northern position made +him the very tool for their purpose. The little creature has struck at +the right of petition. A paltrier hand never struck at a noble right. +The Eagle Right of Petition, so loftily sacred in the eyes of the +Constitution that Congress can't begin to 'abridge' it, in its pride of +place, is hawked at by this crested jay-bird. A 'mousing owl' would have +seen better at midnoon than to have done it. It is an idiot blue-jay, +such as you see fooling about among the shrub oaks and dwarf pitch pines +in the winter. What an ignominious death to the lofty right, were it to +die by such a hand; but it does not die. It is impalpable to the +'malicious mockery' of such vain blows.' We are glad it is done--done by +the South--done proudly, and in slaveholding style, by the hand of a +vassal. What a man does by another he does by himself, says the maxim. +But they will disown the honor of it, and cast it on the despised 'free +nigger' North." + +Or this description--not very flattering to the "Old Commonwealth"--of +the treatment of the agent of Massachusetts in South Carolina:-- + +"Slavery may perpetrate anything, and New England can't see it. It can +horsewhip the old Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and spit in her +governmental face, and she will not recognize it as an offence. She sent +her agent to Charleston on a State embassy. Slavery caught him, and sent +him ignominiously home. The solemn great man came back in a hurry. He +returned in a most undignified trot. He ran; he scampered,--the stately +official. The Old Bay State actually pulled foot, cleared, dug, as they +say, like any scamp with a hue and cry after him. Her grave old Senator, +who no more thought of having to break his stately walk than he had of +being flogged at school for stealing apples, came back from Carolina upon +the full run, out of breath and out of dignity. Well, what's the result? +Why, nothing. She no more thinks of showing resentment about it than she +would if lightning had struck him. He was sent back 'by the visitation +of God;' and if they had lynched him to death, and stained the streets of +Charleston with his blood, a Boston jury, if they could have held inquest +over him, would have found that he 'died by the visitation of God.' And +it would have been crowner's quest law, Slavery's crowners." + +Here is a specimen of his graceful blending of irony and humor. He is +expostulating with his neighbor of the New Hampshire Patriot, assuring +him that he cannot endure the ponderous weight of his arguments, begging +for a little respite, and, as a means of obtaining it, urging the editor +to travel. He advises him to go South, to the White Sulphur Springs, and +thinks that, despite of his dark complexion, he would be safe there from +being sold for jail fees, as his pro-slavery merits would more than +counterbalance his colored liabilities, which, after all, were only prima +facie evidence against him. He suggests Texas, also, as a place where +"patriots" of a certain class "most do congregate," and continues as +follows:-- + +"There is Arkansas, too, all glorious in new-born liberty, fresh and +unsullied, like Venus out of the ocean,--that newly discovered star, in +the firmament banner of this Republic. Sister Arkansas, with her bowie- +knife graceful at her side, like the huntress Diana with her silver bow, +--oh it would be refreshing and recruiting to an exhausted patriot to go +and replenish his soul at her fountains. The newly evacuated lands of +the Cherokee, too, a sweet place now for a lover of his country to visit, +to renew his self-complacency by wandering among the quenched hearths of +the expatriated Indians; a land all smoking with the red man's departing +curse,--a malediction that went to the centre. Yes, and Florida,-- +blossoming and leafy Florida, yet warm with the life-blood of Osceola and +his warriors, shed gloriously under flag of truce. Why should a patriot +of such a fancy for nature immure himself in the cells of the city, and +forego such an inviting and so broad a landscape? Ite viator. Go forth, +traveller, and leave this mouldy editing to less elastic fancies. We +would respectfully invite our Colonel to travel. What signifies? +Journey--wander--go forth--itinerate--exercise--perambulate--roam." + +He gives the following ludicrous definition of Congress:-- + +"But what is Congress? It is the echo of the country at home,--the +weathercock, that denotes and answers the shifting wind,--a thing of +tail, nearly all tail, moved by the tail and by the wind, with small +heading, and that corresponding implicitly in movement with the broad +sail-like stern, which widens out behind to catch the rum-fraught breath +of 'the Brotherhood.' As that turns, it turns; when that stops, it stops; +and in calmish weather looks as steadfast and firm as though it was +riveted to the centre. The wind blows, and the little popularity-hunting +head dodges this way and that, in endless fluctuation. Such is Congress, +or a great portion of it. It will point to the northwest heavens of +Liberty, whenever the breezes bear down irresistibly upon it, from the +regions of political fair weather. It will abolish slavery at the +Capitol, when it has already been doomed to abolition and death +everywhere else in the country. 'It will be in at the death.'" + +Replying to the charge that the Abolitionists of the North were "secret" +in their movements and designs, he says:-- + +"'In secret!' Why, our movements have been as prominent and open as the +house-tops from the beginning. We have striven from the outset to write +the whole matter cloud-high in the heavens, that the utmost South might +read it. We have cast an arc upon the horizon, like the semicircle of +the polar lights, and upon it have bent our motto, 'Immediate +Emancipation,' glorious as the rainbow. We have engraven it there, on +the blue table of the cold vault, in letters tall enough for the reading +of the nations. And why has the far South not read and believed before +this? Because a steam has gone up--a fog--from New England's pulpit and +her degenerate press, and hidden the beaming revelation from its vision. +The Northern hierarchy and aristocracy have cheated the South." + +He spoke at times with severity of slaveholders, but far oftener of those +who, without the excuse of education and habit, and prompted only by a +selfish consideration of political or sectarian advantage, apologized for +the wrong, and discountenanced the anti-slavery movement. "We have +nothing to say," said he, "to the slave. He is no party to his own +enslavement,--he is none to his disenthralment. We have nothing to say +to the South. The real holder of slaves is not there. He is in the +North, the free North. The South alone has not the power to hold the +slave. It is the character of the nation that binds and holds him. It +is the Republic that does it, the efficient force of which is north of +Mason and Dixon's line. By virtue of the majority of Northern hearts and +voices, slavery lives in the South!" + +In 1840, he spent a few weeks in England, Ireland, and Scotland. He has +left behind a few beautiful memorials of his tour. His Ride over the +Border, Ride into Edinburgh, Wincobank hall, Ailsa Craig, gave his paper +an interest in the eyes of many who had no sympathy with his political +and religious views. + +Scattered all over his editorials, like gems, are to be found beautiful +images, sweet touches of heartfelt pathos,--thoughts which the reader +pauses over with surprise and delight. We subjoin a few specimens, taken +almost at random from the book before us:-- + +"A thunder-storm,--what can match it for eloquence and poetry? That rush +from heaven of the big drops, in what multitude and succession, and how +they sound as they strike! How they play on the old home roof and the +thick tree-tops! What music to go to sleep by, to the tired boy, as he +lies under the naked roof! And the great, low bass thunder, as it rolls +off over the hills, and settles down behind them to the very centre, and +you can feel the old earth jar under your feet!" + +"There was no oratory in the speech of the _Learned Blacksmith_, in the +ordinary sense of that word, no grace of elocution, but mighty thoughts +radiating off from his heated mind, like sparks from the glowing steel of +his own anvil." + +"The hard hands of Irish labor, with nothing in them,--they ring like +slabs of marble together, in response to the wild appeals of O'Connell, +and the British stand conquered before them, with shouldered arms. +Ireland is on her feet, with nothing in her hands, impregnable, +unassailable, in utter defencelessness,--the first time that ever a +nation sprung to its feet unarmed. The veterans of England behold them, +and forbear to fire. They see no mark. It will not do to fire upon men; +it will do only to fire upon soldiers. They are the proper mark of the +murderous gun, but men cannot be shot." + +"It is coming to that (abolition of war) the world over; and when it does +come to it, oh what a long breath of relief the tired world will draw, as +it stretches itself for the first time out upon earth's greensward, and +learns the meaning of repose and peaceful sleep!" + +"He who vests his labor in the faithful ground is dealing directly with +God; human fraud or weakness do not intervene between him and his +requital. No mechanic has a set of customers so trustworthy as God and +the elements. No savings bank is so sure as the old earth." + +"Literature is the luxury of words. It originates nothing, it does +nothing. It talks hard words about the labor of others, and is reckoned +more meritorious for it than genius and labor for doing what learning can +only descant upon. It trades on the capital of unlettered minds. It +struts in stolen plumage, and it is mere plumage. A learned man +resembles an owl in more respects than the matter of wisdom. Like that +solemn bird, he is about all feathers." + +"Our Second Advent friends contemplate a grand conflagration about the +first of April next. I should be willing there should be one, if it +could be confined to the productions of the press, with which the earth +is absolutely smothered. Humanity wants precious few books to read, but +the great living, breathing, immortal volume of Providence. Life,--real +life,--how to live, how to treat one another, and how to trust God in +matters beyond our ken and occasion,--these are the lessons to learn, and +you find little of them in libraries." + +"That accursed drum and fife! How they have maddened mankind! And the +deep bass boom of the cannon, chiming in in the chorus of battle, that +trumpet and wild charging bugle,--how they set the military devil in a +man, and make him into a soldier! Think of the human family falling upon +one another at the inspiration of music! How must God feel at it, to see +those harp-strings he meant should be waked to a love bordering on +divine, strung and swept to mortal hate and butchery!" + +"Leave off being Jews," (he is addressing Major Noah with regard to his +appeal to his brethren to return to Judaea,) "and turn mankind. The +rocks and sands of Palestine have been worshipped long enough. +Connecticut River or the Merrimac are as good rivers as any Jordan that +ever run into a dead or live sea, and as holy, for that matter. In +Humanity, as in Christ Jesus, as Paul says, 'there is neither Jew nor +Greek.' And there ought to be none. Let Humanity be reverenced with the +tenderest devotion; suffering, discouraged, down-trodden, hard-handed, +haggard-eyed, care-worn mankind! Let these be regarded a little. Would +to God I could alleviate all their sorrows, and leave them a chance to +laugh! They are, miserable now. They might be as happy as the blackbird +on the spray, and as full of melody." + +"I am sick as death at this miserable struggle among mankind for a +living. Poor devils! were they born to run such a gauntlet after the +means of life? Look about you, and see your squirming neighbors, +writhing and twisting like so many angleworms in a fisher's bait-box, or +the wriggling animalculae seen in the vinegar drop held to the sun. How +they look, how they feel, how base it makes them all!" + +"Every human being is entitled to the means of life, as the trout is to +his brook or the lark to the blue sky. Is it well to put a human 'young +one' here to die of hunger, thirst, and nakedness, or else be preserved +as a pauper? Is this fair earth but a poor-house by creation and intent? +Was it made for that?--and these other round things we see dancing in +the firmament to the music of the spheres, are they all great shining +poor-houses?" + +"The divines always admit things after the age has adopted them. They +are as careful of the age as the weathercock is of the wind. You might +as well catch an old experienced weathercock, on some ancient Orthodox +steeple, standing all day with its tail east in a strong out wind, as the +divines at odds with the age." + +But we must cease quoting. The admirers of Jean Paul Richter might find +much of the charm and variety of the "Flower, Fruit, and Thorn Pieces" in +this newspaper collection. They may see, perhaps, as we do, some things +which they cannot approve of, the tendency of which, however intended, is +very questionable. But, with us, they will pardon something to the +spirit of liberty, much to that of love and humanity which breathes +through all. + +Disgusted and heart-sick at the general indifference of Church and clergy +to the temporal condition of the people,--at their apologies for and +defences of slavery, war, and capital punishment,--Rogers turned +Protestant, in the full sense of the term. He spoke of priests and +"pulpit wizards" as freely as John Milton did two centuries ago, +although with far less bitterness and rasping satire. He could not +endure to see Christianity and Humanity divorced. He longed to see the +beautiful life of Jesus--his sweet humanities, his brotherly love, his +abounding sympathies--made the example of all men. Thoroughly +democratic, in his view all men were equal. Priests, stripped of their +sacerdotal tailoring, were in his view but men, after all. He pitied +them, he said, for they were in a wrong position,--above life's comforts +and sympathies,--"up in the unnatural cold, they had better come down +among men, and endure and enjoy with them." "Mankind," said he, "want +the healing influences of humanity. They must love one another more. +Disinterested good will make the world as it should be." + +His last visit to his native valley was in the autumn of 1845. In a +familiar letter to a friend, he thus describes his farewell view of the +mountain glories of his childhood's home:-- + +"I went a jaunt, Thursday last, about twenty miles north of this valley, +into the mountain region, where what I beheld, if I could tell it as I +saw it, would make your outlawed sheet sought after wherever our Anglo- +Saxon tongue is spoken in the wide world. I have been many a time among +those Alps, and never without a kindling of wildest enthusiasm in my +woodland blood. But I never saw them till last Thursday. They never +loomed distinctly to my eye before, and the sun never shone on them from +heaven till then. They were so near me, I could seem to hear the voice +of their cataracts, as I could count their great slides, streaming adown +their lone and desolate sides,--old slides, some of them overgrown with +young woods, like half-healed scars on the breast of a giant. The great +rains had clothed the valleys of the upper Pemigewasset in the darkest +and deepest green. The meadows were richer and more glorious in their +thick 'fall feed' than Queen Anne's Garden, as I saw it from the windows +of Windsor Castle. And the dark hemlock and hackmatack woods were yet +darker after the wet season, as they lay, in a hundred wildernesses, in +the mighty recesses of the mountains. But the peaks,--the eternal, the +solitary, the beautiful, the glorious and dear mountain peaks, my own +Moosehillock and my native Haystacks,--these were the things on which eye +and heart gazed and lingered, and I seemed to see them for the last time. +It was on my way back that I halted and turned to look at them from a +high point on the Thornton road. It was about four in the afternoon. It +had rained among the hills about the Notch, and cleared off. The sun, +there sombred at that early hour, as towards his setting, was pouring his +most glorious light upon the naked peaks, and they casting their mighty +shadows far down among the inaccessible woods that darken the hollows +that stretch between their bases. A cloud was creeping up to perch and +rest awhile on the highest top of Great Haystack. Vulgar folks have +called it Mount Lafayette, since the visit of that brave old Frenchman in +1825 or 1826. If they had asked his opinion, he would have told them the +names of mountains couldn't be altered, and especially names like that, +so appropriate, so descriptive, and so picturesque. A little hard white +cloud, that looked like a hundred fleeces of wool rolled into one, was +climbing rapidly along up the northwestern ridge, that ascended to the +lonely top of Great Haystack. All the others were bare. Four or five of +them,--as distinct and shapely as so many pyramids; some topped out with +naked cliff, on which the sun lay in melancholy glory; others clothed +thick all the way up with the old New Hampshire hemlock or the daring +hackmatack,--Pierpont's hackmatack. You could see their shadows +stretching many and many a mile, over Grant and Location, away beyond the +invading foot of Incorporation,--where the timber-hunter has scarcely +explored, and where the moose browses now, I suppose, as undisturbed as +he did before the settlement of the State. I wish our young friend and +genius, Harrison Eastman, had been with me, to see the sunlight as it +glared on the tops of those woods, and to see the purple of the +mountains. I looked at it myself almost with the eye of a painter. If a +painter looked with mine, though, he never could look off upon his canvas +long enough to make a picture; he would gaze forever at the original. + +"But I had to leave it, and to say in my heart, Farewell! And as I +travelled on down, and the sun sunk lower and lower towards the summit of +the western ridge, the clouds came up and formed an Alpine range in the +evening heavens above it,--like other Haystacks and Moosehillocks,--so +dark and dense that fancy could easily mistake them for a higher Alps. +There were the peaks and the great passes; the Franconia Notches among +the cloudy cliffs, and the great White Mountain Gap." + +His health, never robust, had been gradually failing for some time +previous to his death. He needed more repose and quiet than his duties +as an editor left him; and to this end he purchased a small and pleasant +farm in his loved Pennigewasset valley, in the hope that he might there +recruit his wasted energies. In the sixth month of the year of his +death, in a letter to us, he spoke of his prospects in language which +even then brought moisture to our eyes:-- + +"I am striving to get me an asylum of a farm. I have a wife and seven +children, every one of them with a whole spirit. I don't want to be +separated from any of them, only with a view to come together again. I +have a beautiful little retreat in prospect, forty odd miles north, where +I imagine I can get potatoes and repose,--a sort of haven or port. I am +among the breakers, and 'mad for land.' If I get this home,--it is a mile +or two in among the hills from the pretty domicil once visited by +yourself and glorious Thompson,--I am this moment indulging the fancy +that I may see you at it before we die. Why can't I have you come and +see me? You see, dear W., I don't want to send you anything short of a +full epistle. Let me end as I begun, with the proffer of my hand in +grasp of yours extended. My heart I do not proffer,--it was yours +before,--it shall be yours while I am N. P. ROGERS." + +Alas! the haven of a deeper repose than he had dreamed of was close at +hand. He lingered until the middle of the tenth month, suffering much, +yet calm and sensible to the last. Just before his death, he desired his +children to sing at his bedside that touching song of Lover's, _The +Angel's Whisper_. Turning his eyes towards the open window, through +which the leafy glory of the season he most loved was visible, he +listened to the sweet melody. In the words of his friend Pierpont,-- + + "The angel's whisper stole in song upon his closing ear; + From his own daughter's lips it came, so musical and clear, + That scarcely knew the dying man what melody was there-- + The last of earth's or first of heaven's pervading all the air." + +He sleeps in the Concord burial-ground, under the shadow of oaks; the +very spot he would have chosen, for he looked upon trees with something +akin to human affection. "They are," he said, "the beautiful handiwork +and architecture of God, on which the eye never tires. Every one is +a feather in the earth's cap, a plume in her bonnet, a tress on her +forehead,--a comfort, a refreshing, and an ornament to her." Spring has +hung over him her buds, and opened beside him her violets. Summer has +laid her green oaken garland on his grave, and now the frost-blooms of +autumn drop upon it. Shall man cast a nettle on that mound? He loved +humanity,--shall it be less kind to him than Nature? Shall the bigotry +of sect, and creed, and profession, drive its condemnatory stake into his +grave? God forbid. The doubts which he sometimes unguardedly expressed +had relation, we are constrained to believe, to the glosses of +commentators and creed-makers and the inconsistency of professors, rather +than to those facts and precepts of Christianity to which he gave the +constant assent of his practice. He sought not his own. His heart +yearned with pity and brotherly affection for all the poor and suffering +in the universe. Of him, the angel of Leigh Hunt's beautiful allegory +might have written, in the golden book of remembrance, as he did of the +good Abou Ben Adhem, "He loved his fellow-men." + + + + +ROBERT DINSMORE. + +The great charm of Scottish poetry consists in its simplicity, and +genuine, unaffected sympathy with the common joys and sorrows of daily +life. It is a home-taught, household melody. It calls to mind the +pastoral bleat on the hillsides, the kirkbells of a summer Sabbath, the +song of the lark in the sunrise, the cry of the quail in the corn-land, +the low of cattle, and the blithe carol of milkmaids "when the kye come +hame" at gloaming. Meetings at fair and market, blushing betrothments, +merry weddings, the joy of young maternity, the lights and shades of +domestic life, its bereavements and partings, its chances and changes, +its holy death-beds, and funerals solemnly beautiful in quiet kirkyards, +--these furnish the hints of the immortal melodies of Burns, the sweet +ballads of the Ettrick Shepherd and Allan Cunningham, and the rustic +drama of Ramsay. It is the poetry of home, of nature, and the +affections. + +All this is sadly wanting in our young literature. We have no songs; +American domestic life has never been hallowed and beautified by the +sweet and graceful and tender associations of poetry. We have no Yankee +pastorals. Our rivers and streams turn mills and float rafts, and are +otherwise as commendably useful as those of Scotland; but no quaint +ballad or simple song reminds us that men and women have loved, met, and +parted on their banks, or that beneath each roof within their valleys the +tragedy and comedy of life have been enacted. Our poetry is cold and +imitative; it seems more the product of over-strained intellects than the +spontaneous outgushing of hearts warm with love, and strongly +sympathizing with human nature as it actually exists about us, with the +joys and griefs of the men and women whom we meet daily. Unhappily, the +opinion prevails that a poet must be also a philosopher, and hence it is +that much of our poetry is as indefinable in its mysticism as an Indian +Brahmin's commentary on his sacred books, or German metaphysics subjected +to homeopathic dilution. It assumes to be prophetical, and its +utterances are oracular. It tells of strange, vague emotions and +yearnings, painfully suggestive of spiritual "groanings which cannot be +uttered." If it "babbles o' green fields" and the common sights and +sounds of nature, it is only for the purpose of finding some vague +analogy between them and its internal experiences and longings. It +leaves the warm and comfortable fireside of actual knowledge and human +comprehension, and goes wailing and gibbering like a ghost about the +impassable doors of mystery:-- + + "It fain would be resolved + How things are done, + And who the tailor is + That works for the man I' the sun." + +How shall we account for this marked tendency in the literature of a +shrewd, practical people? Is it that real life in New England lacks +those conditions of poetry and romance which age, reverence, and +superstition have gathered about it in the Old World? Is it that + + "Ours are not Tempe's nor Arcadia's vales," + +but are more famous for growing Indian corn and potatoes, and the +manufacture of wooden ware and pedler notions, than for romantic +associations and legendary interest? That our huge, unshapely shingle +structures, blistering in the sun and glaring with windows, were +evidently never reared by the spell of pastoral harmonies, as the walls +of Thebes rose at the sound of the lyre of Amphion? That the habits of +our people are too cool, cautious, undemonstrative, to furnish the warp +and woof of song and pastoral, and that their dialect and figures of +speech, however richly significant and expressive in the autobiography of +Sam Slick, or the satire of Hosea Biglow and Ethan Spike, form a very +awkward medium of sentiment and pathos? All this may be true. But the +Yankee, after all, is a man, and as such his history, could it be got at, +must have more or less of poetic material in it; moreover, whether +conscious of it or not, he also stands relieved against the background of +Nature's beauty or sublimity. There is a poetical side to the +commonplace of his incomings and outgoings; study him well, and you may +frame an idyl of some sort from his apparently prosaic existence. Our +poets, we must needs think, are deficient in that shiftiness, ready +adaptation to circumstances, and ability of making the most of things, +for which, as a people, we are proverbial. Can they make nothing of our +Thanksgiving, that annual gathering of long-severed friends? Do they +find nothing to their purpose in our apple-bees, buskings, berry- +pickings, summer picnics, and winter sleigh-rides? Is there nothing +available in our peculiarities of climate, scenery, customs, and +political institutions? Does the Yankee leap into life, shrewd, hard, +and speculating, armed, like Pallas, for a struggle with fortune? Are +there not boys and girls, school loves and friendship, courtings and +match-makings, hope and fear, and all the varied play of human passions, +--the keen struggles of gain, the mad grasping of ambition,--sin and +remorse, tearful repentance and holy aspirations? Who shall say that we +have not all the essentials of the poetry of human life and simple +nature, of the hearth and the farm-field? Here, then, is a mine +unworked, a harvest ungathered. Who shall sink the shaft and thrust in +the sickle? + +And here let us say that the mere dilettante and the amateur ruralist may +as well keep their hands off. The prize is not for them. He who would +successfully strive for it must be himself what he sings,--part and +parcel of the rural life of New England,--one who has grown strong amidst +its healthful influences, familiar with all its details, and capable of +detecting whatever of beauty, humor, or pathos pertain to it,--one who +has added to his book-lore the large experience of an active +participation in the rugged toil, the hearty amusements, the trials, and +the pleasures he describes. + +We have been led to these reflections by an incident which has called up +before us the homespun figure of an old friend of our boyhood, who had +the good sense to discover that the poetic element existed in the simple +home life of a country farmer, although himself unable to give a very +creditable expression of it. He had the "vision," indeed, but the +"faculty divine" was wanting; or, if he possessed it in any degree, as +Thersites says of the wit of Ajax, "it would not out, but lay coldly in +him like fire in the flint." + +While engaged this morning in looking over a large exchange list of +newspapers, a few stanzas of poetry in the Scottish dialect attracted our +attention. As we read them, like a wizard's rhyme they seemed to have +the power of bearing us back to the past. They had long ago graced the +columns of that solitary sheet which once a week diffused happiness over +our fireside circle, making us acquainted, in our lonely nook, with the +goings-on of the great world. The verses, we are now constrained to +admit, are not remarkable in themselves, truth and simple nature only; +yet how our young hearts responded to them! Twenty years ago there were +fewer verse-makers than at present; and as our whole stock of light +literature consisted of Ellwood's _Davideis_ and the selections of +_Lindley Murray's English Reader_, it is not improbable that we were in a +condition to overestimate the contributions to the poet's corner of our +village newspaper. Be that as it may, we welcome them as we would the +face of an old friend, for they somehow remind us of the scent of +haymows, the breath of cattle, the fresh greenery by the brookside, the +moist earth broken by the coulter and turned up to the sun and winds of +May. This particular piece, which follows, is entitled _The Sparrow_, +and was occasioned by the crushing of a bird's-nest by the author while +ploughing among his corn. It has something of the simple tenderness of +Burns. + + "Poor innocent and hapless Sparrow + Why should my mould-board gie thee sorrow! + This day thou'll chirp and mourn the morrow + Wi' anxious breast; + The plough has turned the mould'ring furrow + Deep o'er thy nest! + + "Just I' the middle o' the hill + Thy nest was placed wi' curious skill; + There I espied thy little bill + Beneath the shade. + In that sweet bower, secure frae ill, + Thine eggs were laid. + + "Five corns o' maize had there been drappit, + An' through the stalks thy head was pappit, + The drawing nowt could na be stappit + I quickly foun'; + Syne frae thy cozie nest thou happit, + Wild fluttering roun'. + + "The sklentin stane beguiled the sheer, + In vain I tried the plough to steer; + A wee bit stumpie I' the rear + Cam' 'tween my legs, + An' to the jee-side gart me veer + An' crush thine eggs. + + "Alas! alas! my bonnie birdie! + Thy faithful mate flits round to guard thee. + Connubial love!--a pattern worthy + The pious priest! + What savage heart could be sae hardy + As wound thy breast? + + "Ah me! it was nae fau't o' mine; + It gars me greet to see thee pine. + It may be serves His great design + Who governs all; + Omniscience tents wi' eyes divine + The Sparrow's fall! + + "How much like thine are human dools, + Their sweet wee bairns laid I' the mools? + The Sovereign Power who nature rules + Hath said so be it + But poor blip' mortals are sic fools + They canna see it. + + "Nae doubt that He who first did mate us + Has fixed our lot as sure as fate is, + An' when He wounds He disna hate us, + But anely this, + He'll gar the ills which here await us + Yield lastin' bliss." + +In the early part of the eighteenth century a considerable number of +Presbyterians of Scotch descent, from the north of Ireland, emigrated to +the New World. In the spring of 1719, the inhabitants of Haverhill, on +the Merrimac, saw them passing up the river in several canoes, one of +which unfortunately upset in the rapids above the village. The following +fragment of a ballad celebrating this event has been handed down to the +present time, and may serve to show the feelings even then of the old +English settlers towards the Irish emigrants:-- + + "They began to scream and bawl, + As out they tumbled one and all, + And, if the Devil had spread his net, + He could have made a glorious haul!" + +The new-comers proceeded up the river, and, landing opposite to the +Uncanoonuc Hills, on the present site of Manchester, proceeded inland to +Beaver Pond. Charmed with the appearance of the country, they resolved +here to terminate their wanderings. Under a venerable oak on the margin +of the little lake, they knelt down with their minister, Jamie McGregore, +and laid, in prayer and thanksgiving, the foundation of their settlement. +In a few years they had cleared large fields, built substantial stone and +frame dwellings and a large and commodious meeting-house; wealth had +accumulated around them, and they had everywhere the reputation of a +shrewd and thriving community. They were the first in New England to +cultivate the potato, which their neighbors for a long time regarded as a +pernicious root, altogether unfit for a Christian stomach. Every lover +of that invaluable esculent has reason to remember with gratitude the +settlers of Londonderry. + +Their moral acclimation in Ireland had not been without its effect upon +their character. Side by side with a Presbyterianism as austere as that +of John Knox had grown up something of the wild Milesian humor, love of +convivial excitement and merry-making. Their long prayers and fierce +zeal in behalf of orthodox tenets only served, in the eyes of their +Puritan neighbors, to make more glaring still the scandal of their marked +social irregularities. It became a common saying in the region round +about that "the Derry Presbyterians would never give up a pint of +doctrine or a pint of rum." Their second minister was an old scarred +fighter, who had signalized himself in the stout defence of Londonderry, +when James II. and his Papists were thundering at its gates. Agreeably +to his death-bed directions, his old fellow-soldiers, in their leathern +doublets and battered steel caps, bore him to his grave, firing over him +the same rusty muskets which had swept down rank after rank of the men of +Amalek at the Derry siege. + +Erelong the celebrated Derry fair was established, in imitation of those +with which they had been familiar in Ireland. Thither annually came all +manner of horse-jockeys and pedlers, gentlemen and beggars, fortune- +tellers, wrestlers, dancers and fiddlers, gay young farmers and buxom +maidens. Strong drink abounded. They who had good-naturedly wrestled +and joked together in the morning not unfrequently closed the day with a +fight, until, like the revellers of Donnybrook, + + "Their hearts were soft with whiskey, + And their heads were soft with blows." + +A wild, frolicking, drinking, fiddling, courting, horse-racing, riotous +merry-making,--a sort of Protestant carnival, relaxing the grimness of +Puritanism for leagues around it. + +In the midst of such a community, and partaking of all its influences, +Robert Dinsmore, the author of the poem I have quoted, was born, about +the middle of the last century. His paternal ancestor, John, younger son +of a Laird of Achenmead, who left the banks of the Tweed for the green +fertility of Northern Ireland, had emigrated to New England some forty +years before, and, after a rough experience of Indian captivity in the +wild woods of Maine, had settled down among his old neighbors in +Londonderry. Until nine years of age, Robert never saw a school. He was +a short time under the tuition of an old British soldier, who had strayed +into the settlement after the French war, "at which time," he says in a +letter to a friend, "I learned to repeat the shorter and larger +catechisms. These, with the Scripture proofs annexed to them, confirmed +me in the orthodoxy of my forefathers, and I hope I shall ever remain an +evidence of the truth of what the wise man said, 'Train up a child in the +way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.'" He +afterwards took lessons with one Master McKeen, who used to spend much of +his time in hunting squirrels with his pupils. He learned to read and +write; and the old man always insisted that he should have done well at +ciphering also, had he not fallen in love with Molly Park. At the age of +eighteen he enlisted in the Revolutionary army, and was at the battle of +Saratoga. On his return he married his fair Molly, settled down as a +farmer in Windham, formerly a part of Londonderry, and before he was +thirty years of age became an elder in the church, of the creed and +observances of which he was always a zealous and resolute defender. From +occasional passages in his poems, it is evident that the instructions +which he derived from the pulpit were not unlike those which Burns +suggested as needful for the unlucky lad whom he was commending to his +friend Hamilton:-- + + "Ye 'll catechise him ilka quirk, + An' shore him weel wi' hell." + +In a humorous poem, entitled Spring's Lament, he thus describes the +consternation produced in the meeting-house at sermon time by a dog, who, +in search of his mistress, rattled and scraped at the "west porch +door:"-- + + "The vera priest was scared himsel', + His sermon he could hardly spell; + Auld carlins fancied they could smell + The brimstone matches; + They thought he was some imp o' hell, + In quest o' wretches." + +He lived to a good old age, a home-loving, unpretending farmer, +cultivating his acres with his own horny hands, and cheering the long +rainy days and winter evenings with homely rhyme. Most of his pieces +were written in the dialect of his ancestors, which was well understood +by his neighbors and friends, the only audience upon which he could +venture to calculate. He loved all old things, old language, old +customs, old theology. In a rhyming letter to his cousin Silas, +he says:-- + + "Though Death our ancestors has cleekit, + An' under clods then closely steekit, + We'll mark the place their chimneys reekit, + Their native tongue we yet wad speak it, + Wi' accent glib." + +He wrote sometimes to amuse his neighbors, often to soothe their sorrow +under domestic calamity, or to give expression to his own. With little +of that delicacy of taste which results from the attrition of fastidious +and refined society, and altogether too truthful and matter-of-fact to +call in the aid of imagination, he describes in the simplest and most +direct terms the circumstances in which he found himself, and the +impressions which these circumstances had made on his own mind. He calls +things by their right names; no euphuism or transcendentalism,--the +plainer and commoner the better. He tells us of his farm life, its +joys and sorrows, its mirth and care, with no embellishment, with no +concealment of repulsive and ungraceful features. Never having seen a +nightingale, he makes no attempt to describe the fowl; but he has seen +the night-hawk, at sunset, cutting the air above him, and he tells of it. +Side by side with his waving corn-fields and orchard-blooms we have the +barn-yard and pigsty. Nothing which was necessary to the comfort and +happiness of his home and avocation was to him "common or unclean." +Take, for instance, the following, from a poem written at the close of +autumn, after the death of his wife:-- + + "No more may I the Spring Brook trace, + No more with sorrow view the place + Where Mary's wash-tub stood; + No more may wander there alone, + And lean upon the mossy stone + Where once she piled her wood. + 'T was there she bleached her linen cloth, + By yonder bass-wood tree + From that sweet stream she made her broth, + Her pudding and her tea. + That stream, whose waters running, + O'er mossy root and stone, + Made ringing and singing, + Her voice could match alone." + +We envy not the man who can sneer at this simple picture. It is honest +as Nature herself. An old and lonely man looks back upon the young years +of his wedded life. Can we not look with him? The sunlight of a summer +morning is weaving itself with the leafy shadows of the bass-tree, +beneath which a fair and ruddy-checked young woman, with her full, +rounded arms bared to the elbow, bends not ungracefully to her task, +pausing ever and anon to play with the bright-eyed child beside her, and +mingling her songs with the pleasant murmurings of gliding water! Alas! +as the old man looks, he hears that voice, which perpetually sounds to us +all from the past--no more! + +Let us look at him in his more genial mood. Take the opening lines of +his Thanksgiving Day. What a plain, hearty picture of substantial +comfort! + + "When corn is in the garret stored, + And sauce in cellar well secured; + When good fat beef we can afford, + And things that 're dainty, + With good sweet cider on our board, + And pudding plenty; + + "When stock, well housed, may chew the cud, + And at my door a pile of wood, + A rousing fire to warm my blood, + Blest sight to see! + It puts my rustic muse in mood + To sing for thee." + +If he needs a simile, he takes the nearest at hand. In a letter to his +daughter he says:-- + + "That mine is not a longer letter, + The cause is not the want of matter,-- + Of that there's plenty, worse or better; + But like a mill + Whose stream beats back with surplus water, + The wheel stands still." + +Something of the humor of Burns gleams out occasionally from the sober +decorum of his verses. In an epistle to his friend Betton, high sheriff +of the county, who had sent to him for a peck of seed corn, he says:-- + + "Soon plantin' time will come again, + Syne may the heavens gie us rain, + An' shining heat to bless ilk plain + An' fertile hill, + An' gar the loads o' yellow grain, + Our garrets fill. + + "As long as I has food and clothing, + An' still am hale and fier and breathing, + Ye 's get the corn--and may be aething + Ye'll do for me; + (Though God forbid)--hang me for naething + An' lose your fee." + +And on receiving a copy of some verses written by a lady, he talks in a +sad way for a Presbyterian deacon:-- + + "Were she some Aborigine squaw, + Wha sings so sweet by nature's law, + I'd meet her in a hazle shaw, + Or some green loany, + And make her tawny phiz and 'a + My welcome crony." + +The practical philosophy of the stout, jovial rhymer was but little +affected by the sour-featured asceticism of the elder. He says:-- + + "We'll eat and drink, and cheerful take + Our portions for the Donor's sake, + For thus the Word of Wisdom spake-- + Man can't do better; + Nor can we by our labors make + The Lord our debtor!" + +A quaintly characteristic correspondence in rhyme between the Deacon and +Parson McGregore, evidently "birds o' ane feather," is still in +existence. The minister, in acknowledging the epistle of his old friend, +commences his reply as follows:-- + + "Did e'er a cuif tak' up a quill, + Wha ne'er did aught that he did well, + To gar the muses rant and reel, + An' flaunt and swagger, + Nae doubt ye 'll say 't is that daft chiel + Old Dite McGregore!" + +The reply is in the same strain, and may serve to give the reader some +idea of the old gentleman as a religious controversialist:-- + + "My reverend friend and kind McGregore, + Although thou ne'er was ca'd a bragger, + Thy muse I'm sure nave e'er was glegger + Thy Scottish lays + Might gar Socinians fa' or stagger, + E'en in their ways. + + "When Unitarian champions dare thee, + Goliah like, and think to scare thee, + Dear Davie, fear not, they'll ne'er waur thee; + But draw thy sling, + Weel loaded frae the Gospel quarry, + An' gie 't a fling." + +The last time I saw him, he was chaffering in the market-place of my +native village, swapping potatoes and onions and pumpkins for tea, +coffee, molasses, and, if the truth be told, New England rum. Threescore +years and ten, to use his own words, + + "Hung o'er his back, + And bent him like a muckle pack," + +yet he still stood stoutly and sturdily in his thick shoes of cowhide, +like one accustomed to tread independently the soil of his own acres,-- +his broad, honest face seamed by care and darkened by exposure to "all +the airts that blow," and his white hair flowing in patriarchal glory +beneath his felt hat. A genial, jovial, large-hearted old man, simple as +a child, and betraying, neither in look nor manner, that he was +accustomed to + + "Feed on thoughts which voluntary move + Harmonious numbers." + +Peace to him! A score of modern dandies and sentimentalists could ill +supply the place of this one honest man. In the ancient burial-ground of +Windham, by the side of his "beloved Molly," and in view of the old +meeting-house, there is a mound of earth, where, every spring, green +grasses tremble in the wind and the warm sunshine calls out the flowers. +There, gathered like one of his own ripe sheaves, the farmer poet sleeps +with his fathers. + + + + +PLACIDO, THE SLAVE POET. (1845.) + +I have been greatly interested in the fate of Juan Placido, the black +revolutionist of Cuba, who was executed in Havana, as the alleged +instigator and leader of an attempted revolt on the part of the slaves in +that city and its neighborhood. + +Juan Placido was born a slave on the estate of Don Terribio de Castro. +His father was an African, his mother a mulatto. His mistress treated +him with great kindness, and taught him to read. When he was twelve +years of age she died, and he fell into other and less compassionate +hands. At the age of eighteen, on seeing his mother struck with a heavy +whip, he for the first time turned upon his tormentors. To use his own +words, "I felt the blow in my heart. To utter a loud cry, and from a +downcast boy, with the timidity of one weak as a lamb, to become all at +office like a raging lion, was a thing of a moment." He was, however, +subdued, and the next morning, together with his mother, a tenderly +nurtured and delicate woman, severely scourged. On seeing his mother +rudely stripped and thrown down upon the ground, he at first with tears +implored the overseer to spare her; but at the sound of the first blow, +as it cut into her naked flesh, he sprang once more upon the ruffian, +who, having superior strength, beat him until he was nearer dead than +alive. + +After suffering all the vicissitudes of slavery,--hunger, nakedness, +stripes; after bravely and nobly bearing up against that slow, dreadful +process which reduces the man to a thing, the image of God to a piece of +merchandise, until he had reached his thirty-eighth year, he was +unexpectedly released from his bonds. Some literary gentlemen in Havana, +into whose hands two or three pieces of his composition had fallen, +struck with the vigor, spirit, and natural grace which they manifested, +sought out the author, and raised a subscription to purchase his freedom. +He came to Havana, and maintained himself by house-painting, and such +other employments as his ingenuity and talents placed within his reach. +He wrote several poems, which have been published in Spanish at Havana, +and translated by Dr. Madden, under the title of _Poems by a Slave_. + +It is not too much to say of these poems that they will bear a comparison +with most of the productions of modern Spanish literature. The style is +bold, free, energetic. Some of the pieces are sportive and graceful; +such is the address to _The Cucuya_, or Cuban firefly. This beautiful +insect is sometimes fastened in tiny nets to the light dresses of the +Cuban ladies, a custom to which the writer gallantly alludes in the +following lines:-- + + "Ah!--still as one looks on such brightness and bloom, + On such beauty as hers, one might envy the doom + Of a captive Cucuya that's destined, like this, + To be touched by her hand and revived by her kiss! + In the cage which her delicate hand has prepared, + The beautiful prisoner nestles unscared, + O'er her fair forehead shining serenely and bright, + In beauty's own bondage revealing its light! + And when the light dance and the revel are done, + She bears it away to her alcove alone, + Where, fed by her hand from the cane that's most choice, + In secret it gleans at the sound of her voice! + O beautiful maiden! may Heaven accord + Thy care of the captive a fitting reward, + And never may fortune the fetters remove + Of a heart that is thine in the bondage of love!" + +In his Dream, a fragment of some length, Placido dwells in a touching +manner upon the scenes of his early years. It is addressed to his +brother Florence, who was a slave near Matanzas, while the author was in +the same condition at Havana. There is a plaintive and melancholy +sweetness in these lines, a natural pathos, which finds its way to the +heart:-- + + "Thou knowest, dear Florence, my sufferings of old, + The struggles maintained with oppression for years; + We shared them together, and each was consoled + With the love which was nurtured by sorrow and tears. + + "But now far apart, the sad pleasure is gone, + We mingle our sighs and our sorrows no more; + The course is a new one which each has to run, + And dreary for each is the pathway before. + + "But in slumber our spirits at least shall commune, + We will meet as of old in the visions of sleep, + In dreams which call back early days, when at noon + We stole to the shade of the palm-tree to weep! + + "For solitude pining, in anguish of late + The heights of Quintana I sought for repose; + And there, in the cool and the silence, the weight + Of my cares was forgotten, I felt not any woes. + + "Exhausted and weary, the spell of the place + Sank down on my eyelids, and soft slumber stole + So sweetly upon me, it left not a trace + Of sorrow o'ercasting the light of the soul." + + +The writer then imagines himself borne lightly through the air to the +place of his birth. The valley of Matanzas lies beneath him, hallowed by +the graves of his parents. He proceeds:-- + + "I gazed on that spot where together we played, + Our innocent pastimes came fresh to my mind, + Our mother's caress, and the fondness displayed + In each word and each look of a parent so kind. + + "I looked on the mountain, whose fastnesses wild + The fugitives seek from the rifle and hound; + Below were the fields where they suffered and toiled, + And there the low graves of their comrades are found. + + "The mill-house was there, and the turmoil of old; + But sick of these scenes, for too well were they known, + I looked for the stream where in childhood I strolled + When a moment of quiet and peace was my own. + + "With mingled emotions of pleasure and pain, + Dear Florence, I sighed to behold thee once more; + I sought thee, my brother, embraced thee again, + But I found thee a slave as I left thee before!" + +Some of his devotional pieces evince the fervor and true feeling of the +Christian poet. His _Ode to Religion_ contains many admirable lines. +Speaking of the martyrs of the early days of Christianity, he says +finely:-- + + "Still in that cradle, purpled with their blood, + The infant Faith waxed stronger day by day." + +I cannot forbear quoting the last stanza of this poem:-- + + "O God of mercy, throned in glory high, + On earth and all its misery look down: + Behold the wretched, hear the captive's cry, + And call Thy exiled children round Thy throne! + There would I fain in contemplation gaze + On Thy eternal beauty, and would make + Of love one lasting canticle of praise, + And every theme but Thee henceforth forsake!" + +His best and noblest production is an ode _To Cuba_, written on the +occasion of Dr. Madden's departure from the island, and presented to that +gentleman. It was never published in Cuba, as its sentiments would have +subjected the author to persecution. It breathes a lofty spirit of +patriotism, and an indignant sense of the wrongs inflicted upon his race. +Withal, it has something of the grandeur and stateliness of the old +Spanish muse. + + "Cuba!--of what avail that thou art fair, + Pearl of the Seas, the pride of the Antilles, + If thy poor sons have still to see thee share + The pangs of bondage and its thousand ills? + Of what avail the verdure of thy hills, + The purple bloom thy coffee-plain displays; + The cane's luxuriant growth, whose culture fills + More graves than famine, or the sword finds ways + To glut with victims calmly as it slays? + + "Of what avail that thy clear streams abound + With precious ore, if wealth there's, none to buy + Thy children's rights, and not one grain is found + For Learning's shrine, or for the altar nigh + Of poor, forsaken, downcast Liberty? + Of what avail the riches of thy port, + Forests of masts and ships from every sea, + If Trade alone is free, and man, the sport + And spoil of Trade, bears wrongs of every sort? + + "Cuba! O Cuba!---when men call thee fair, + And rich, and beautiful, the Queen of Isles, + Star of the West, and Ocean's gem most rare, + Oh, say to those who mock thee with such wiles: + Take off these flowers; and view the lifeless spoils + Which wait the worm; behold their hues beneath + The pale, cold cheek; and seek for living smiles + Where Beauty lies not in the arms of Death, + And Bondage taints not with its poison breath!" + +The disastrous result of the last rising of the slaves--in Cuba is well +known. Betrayed, and driven into premature collision with their +oppressors, the insurrectionists were speedily crushed into subjection. +Placido was arrested, and after a long hearing was condemned to be +executed, and consigned to the Chapel of the Condemned. + +How far he was implicated in the insurrectionary movement it is now +perhaps impossible to ascertain. The popular voice at Havana pronounced +him its leader and projector, and as such he was condemned. His own +bitter wrongs; the terrible recollections of his life of servitude; the +sad condition of his relatives and race, exposed to scorn, contumely, and +the heavy hand of violence; the impunity with which the most dreadful +outrages upon the persons of slaves were inflicted,--acting upon a mind +fully capable of appreciating the beauty and dignity of freedom,-- +furnished abundant incentives to an effort for the redemption of his race +and the humiliation of his oppressors. The Heraldo, of Madrid speaks of +him as "the celebrated poet, a man of great natural genius, and beloved +and appreciated by the most respectable young men of Havana." It accuses +him of wild and ambitious projects, and states that he was intended to be +the chief of the black race after they had thrown off the yoke of +bondage. + +He was executed at Havana in the seventh month, 1844. According to the +custom in Cuba with condemned criminals, he was conducted from prison to +the Chapel of the Doomed. He passed thither with singular composure, +amidst a great concourse of people, gracefully saluting his numerous +acquaintances. The chapel was hung with black cloth, and dimly lighted. +He was seated beside his coffin. Priests in long black robes stood +around him, chanting in sepulchral voices the service of the dead. It is +an ordeal under which the stoutest-hearted and most resolute have been +found to sink. After enduring it for twenty-four hours he was led out to +execution. He came forth calm and undismayed; holding a crucifix in his +hand, he recited in a loud, clear voice a solemn prayer in verse, which +he had composed amidst the horrors of the Chapel. The following is an +imperfect rendering of a poem which thrilled the hearts of all who heard +it:-- + + "God of unbounded love and power eternal, + To Thee I turn in darkness and despair! + Stretch forth Thine arm, and from the brow infernal + Of Calumny the veil of Justice tear; + And from the forehead of my honest fame + Pluck the world's brand of infamy and shame! + + "O King of kings!--my fathers' God!--who only + Art strong to save, by whom is all controlled, + Who givest the sea its waves, the dark and lonely + Abyss of heaven its light, the North its cold, + The air its currents, the warm sun its beams, + Life to the flowers, and motion to the streams! + + "All things obey Thee, dying or reviving + As thou commandest; all, apart from Thee, + From Thee alone their life and power deriving, + Sink and are lost in vast eternity! + Yet doth the void obey Thee; since from naught + This marvellous being by Thy hand was wrought. + + "O merciful God! I cannot shun Thy presence, + For through its veil of flesh Thy piercing eye + Looketh upon my spirit's unsoiled essence, + As through the pure transparence of the sky; + Let not the oppressor clap his bloody hands, + As o'er my prostrate innocence he stands! + + "But if, alas, it seemeth good to Thee + That I should perish as the guilty dies, + And that in death my foes should gaze on me + With hateful malice and exulting eyes, + Speak Thou the word, and bid them shed my blood, + Fully in me Thy will be done, O God!" + +On arriving at the fatal spot, he sat down as ordered, on a bench, with +his back to the soldiers. The multitude recollected that in some +affecting lines, written by the conspirator in prison, he had said that +it would be useless to seek to kill him by shooting his body,--that his +heart must be pierced ere it would cease its throbbings. At the last +moment, just as the soldiers were about to fire, he rose up and gazed for +an instant around and above him on the beautiful capital of his native +land and its sail-flecked bay, on the dense crowds about him, the blue +mountains in the distance, and the sky glorious with summer sunshine. +"Adios, mundo!" (Farewell, world!) he said calmly, and sat down. The +word was given, and five balls entered his body. Then it was that, +amidst the groans and murmurs of the horror-stricken spectators, he rose +up once more, and turned his head to the shuddering soldiers, his face +wearing an expression of superhuman courage. "Will no one pity me?" he +said, laying his hand over his heart. "Here, fire here!" While he yet +spake, two balls entered his heart, and he fell dead. + +Thus perished the hero poet of Cuba. He has not fallen in vain. His +genius and his heroic death will doubtless be regarded by his race as +precious legacies. To the great names of L'Ouverture and Petion the +colored man can now add that of Juan Placido. + + + + + +PERSONAL SKETCHES AND TRIBUTES + + + + +THE FUNERAL OF TORREY. + + Charles T. Torrey, an able young Congregational clergyman, died May + 9, 1846, in the state's prison of Maryland, for the offence of + aiding slaves to escape from bondage. His funeral in Boston, + attended by thousands, was a most impressive occasion. The + following is an extract from an article written for the _Essex + Transcript_:-- + +Some seven years ago, we saw Charles T. Torrey for the first time. His +wife was leaning on his arm,--young, loving, and beautiful; the heart +that saw them blessed them. Since that time, we have known him as a most +energetic and zealous advocate of the anti-slavery cause. He had fine +talents, improved by learning and observation, a clear, intensely active +intellect, and a heart full of sympathy and genial humanity. It was with +strange and bitter feelings that we bent over his coffin and looked upon +his still face. The pity which we had felt for him in his long +sufferings gave place to indignation against his murderers. Hateful +beyond the power of expression seemed the tyranny which had murdered him +with the slow torture of the dungeon. May God forgive us, if for the +moment we felt like grasping His dread prerogative of vengeance. As we +passed out of the hall, a friend grasped our hand hard, his eye flashing +through its tears, with a stern reflection of our own emotions, while he +whispered through his pressed lips: "It is enough to turn every anti- +slavery heart into steel." Our blood boiled; we longed to see the wicked +apologists of slavery--the blasphemous defenders of it in Church and +State--led up to the coffin of our murdered brother, and there made to +feel that their hands had aided in riveting the chain upon those still +limbs, and in shutting out from those cold lips the free breath of +heaven. + +A long procession followed his remains to their resting-place at Mount +Auburn. A monument to his memory will be raised in that cemetery, in the +midst of the green beauty of the scenery which he loved in life, and side +by side with the honored dead of Massachusetts. Thither let the friends +of humanity go to gather fresh strength from the memory of the martyr. +There let the slaveholder stand, and as he reads the record of the +enduring marble commune with his own heart, and feel that sorrow which +worketh repentance. + +The young, the beautiful, the brave!--he is safe now from the malice of +his enemies. Nothing can harm him more. His work for the poor and +helpless was well and nobly done. In the wild woods of Canada, around +many a happy fireside and holy family altar, his name is on the lips of +God's poor. He put his soul in their souls' stead; he gave his life for +those who had no claim on his love save that of human brotherhood. How +poor, how pitiful and paltry, seem our labors! How small and mean our +trials and sacrifices! May the spirit of the dead be with us, and infuse +into our hearts something of his own deep sympathy, his hatred of +injustice, his strong faith and heroic endurance. May that spirit be +gladdened in its present sphere by the increased zeal and faithfulness of +the friends he has left behind. + + + + +EDWARD EVERETT. + +A letter to Robert C. Waterston. + +Amesbury, 27th 1st Month, 1865. + +I acknowledge through thee the invitation of the standing committee of +the Massachusetts Historical Society to be present at a special meeting +of the Society for the purpose of paying a tribute to the memory of our +late illustrious associate, Edward Everett. + +It is a matter of deep regret to me that the state of my health will not +permit me to be with you on an occasion of so much interest. + +It is most fitting that the members of the Historical Society of +Massachusetts should add their tribute to those which have been already +offered by all sects, parties, and associations to the name and fame of +their late associate. He was himself a maker of history, and part and +parcel of all the noble charities and humanizing influences of his State +and time. + +When the grave closed over him who added new lustre to the old and +honored name of Quincy, all eyes instinctively turned to Edward Everett +as the last of that venerated class of patriotic civilians who, outliving +all dissent and jealousy and party prejudice, held their reputation by +the secure tenure of the universal appreciation of its worth as a common +treasure of the republic. It is not for me to pronounce his eulogy. +Others, better qualified by their intimate acquaintance with him, have +done and will do justice to his learning, eloquence, varied culture, and +social virtues. My secluded country life has afforded me few +opportunities of personal intercourse with him, while my pronounced +radicalism on the great question which has divided popular feeling +rendered our political paths widely divergent. Both of us early saw the +danger which threatened the country. In the language of the prophet, we +"saw the sword coming upon the land," but while he believed in the +possibility of averting it by concession and compromise, I, on the +contrary, as firmly believed that such a course could only strengthen and +confirm what I regarded as a gigantic conspiracy against the rights and +liberties, the union and the life, of the nation. + +Recent events have certainly not tended to change this belief on my part; +but in looking over the past, while I see little or nothing to retract in +the matter of opinion, I am saddened by the reflection that through the +very intensity of my convictions I may have done injustice to the motives +of those with whom I differed. As respects Edward Everett, it seems to +me that only within the last four years I have truly known him. + +In that brief period, crowded as it is with a whole life-work of +consecration to the union, freedom, and glory of his country, he not only +commanded respect and reverence, but concentrated upon himself in a most +remarkable degree the love of all loyal and generous hearts. We have +seen, in these years of trial, very great sacrifices offered upon the +altar of patriotism,--wealth, ease, home, love, life itself. But Edward +Everett did more than this: he laid on that altar not only his time, +talents, and culture, but his pride of opinion, his long-cherished views +of policy, his personal and political predilections and prejudices, his +constitutional fastidiousness of conservatism, and the carefully +elaborated symmetry of his public reputation. With a rare and noble +magnanimity, he met, without hesitation, the demand of the great +occasion. Breaking away from all the besetments of custom and +association, he forgot the things that are behind, and, with an eye +single to present duty, pressed forward towards the mark of the high +calling of Divine Providence in the events of our time. All honor to +him! If we mourn that he is now beyond the reach of our poor human +praise, let us reverently trust that he has received that higher plaudit: +"Well done, thou good and faithful servant!" + +When I last met him, as my colleague in the Electoral College of +Massachusetts, his look of health and vigor seemed to promise us many +years of his wisdom and usefulness. On greeting him I felt impelled to +express my admiration and grateful appreciation of his patriotic labors; +and I shall never forget how readily and gracefully he turned attention +from himself to the great cause in which we had a common interest, and +expressed his thankfulness that he had still a country to serve. + +To keep green the memory of such a man is at once a privilege and a duty. +That stainless life of seventy years is a priceless legacy. His hands +were pure. The shadow of suspicion never fell on him. If he erred in +his opinions (and that he did so he had the Christian grace and courage +to own), no selfish interest weighed in the scale of his judgment against +truth. + +As our thoughts follow him to his last resting-place, we are sadly +reminded of his own touching lines, written many years ago at Florence. +The name he has left behind is none the less "pure" that instead of being +"humble," as he then anticipated, it is on the lips of grateful millions, +and written ineffaceable on the record of his country's trial and +triumph:-- + + "Yet not for me when I shall fall asleep + Shall Santa Croce's lamps their vigils keep. + Beyond the main in Auburn's quiet shade, + With those I loved and love my couch be made; + Spring's pendant branches o'er the hillock wave, + And morning's dewdrops glisten on my grave, + While Heaven's great arch shall rise above my bed, + When Santa Croce's crumbles on her dead,-- + Unknown to erring or to suffering fame, + So may I leave a pure though humble name." + +Congratulating the Society on the prospect of the speedy consummation of +the great objects of our associate's labors,--the peace and permanent +union of our country,-- + +I am very truly thy friend. + + + + +LEWIS TAPPAN. (1873.) + +One after another, those foremost in the antislavery conflict of the last +half century are rapidly passing away. The grave has just closed over +all that was mortal of Salmon P. Chase, the kingliest of men, a statesman +second to no other in our history, too great and pure for the Presidency, +yet leaving behind him a record which any incumbent of that station might +envy,--and now the telegraph brings us the tidings of the death of Lewis +Tappan, of Brooklyn, so long and so honorably identified with the anti- +slavery cause, and with every philanthropic and Christian enterprise. He +was a native of Massachusetts, born at Northampton in 1788, of Puritan +lineage,--one of a family remarkable for integrity, decision of +character, and intellectual ability. At the very outset, in company with +his brother Arthur, he devoted his time, talents, wealth, and social +position to the righteous but unpopular cause of Emancipation, and +became, in consequence, a mark for the persecution which followed such +devotion. His business was crippled, his name cast out as evil, his +dwelling sacked, and his furniture dragged into the street and burned. +Yet he never, in the darkest hour, faltered or hesitated for a moment. +He knew he was right, and that the end would justify him; one of the +cheerfullest of men, he was strong where others were weak, hopeful where +others despaired. He was wise in counsel, and prompt in action; like +Tennyson's Sir Galahad, + + "His strength was as the strength of ten, + Because his heart was pure." + +I met him for the first time forty years ago, at the convention which +formed the American Anti-Slavery Society, where I chanced to sit by him +as one of the secretaries. Myself young and inexperienced, I remember +how profoundly I was impressed by his cool self-possession, clearness of +perception, and wonderful executive ability. Had he devoted himself to +party politics with half the zeal which he manifested in behalf of those +who had no votes to give and no honors to bestow, he could have reached +the highest offices in the land. He chose his course, knowing all that +he renounced, and he chose it wisely. He never, at least, regretted it. + +And now, at the ripe age of eighty-five years, the brave old man has +passed onward to the higher life, having outlived here all hatred, abuse, +and misrepresentation, having seen the great work of Emancipation +completed, and white men and black men equal before the law. I saw him +for the last time three years ago, when he was preparing his valuable +biography of his beloved brother Arthur. Age had begun to tell upon his +constitution, but his intellectual force was not abated. The old, +pleasant laugh and playful humor remained. He looked forward to the +close of life hopefully, even cheerfully, as he called to mind the dear +friends who had passed on before him, to await his coming. + +Of the sixty-three signers of the Anti-Slavery Declaration at the +Philadelphia Convention in 1833, probably not more than eight or ten are +now living. + + "As clouds that rake the mountain summits, + As waves that know no guiding hand, + So swift has brother followed brother + From sunshine to the sunless land." + +Yet it is a noteworthy fact that the oldest member of that convention, +David Thurston, D. D., of Maine, lived to see the slaves emancipated, and +to mingle his voice of thanksgiving with the bells that rang in the day +of universal freedom. + + + + +BAYARD TAYLOR + +Read at the memorial meeting in Tremont Temple, Boston, January 10, 1879. + +I am not able to attend the memorial meeting in Tremont Temple on the +10th instant, but my heart responds to any testimonial appreciative of +the intellectual achievements and the noble and manly life of Bayard +Taylor. More than thirty years have intervened between my first meeting +him in the fresh bloom of his youth and hope and honorable ambition, and +my last parting with him under the elms of Boston Common, after our visit +to Richard H. Dana, on the occasion of the ninetieth anniversary of that +honored father of American poetry, still living to lament the death of +his younger disciple and friend. How much he has accomplished in these +years! The most industrious of men, slowly, patiently, under many +disadvantages, he built up his splendid reputation. Traveller, editor, +novelist, translator, diplomatist, and through all and above all poet, +what he was he owed wholly to himself. His native honesty was satisfied +with no half tasks. He finished as he went, and always said and did his +best. + +It is perhaps too early to assign him his place in American literature. +His picturesque books of travel, his Oriental lyrics, his Pennsylvanian +idyls, his Centennial ode, the pastoral beauty and Christian sweetness of +Lars, and the high argument and rhythmic marvel of Deukalion are sureties +of the permanence of his reputation. But at this moment my thoughts +dwell rather upon the man than the author. The calamity of his death, +felt in both hemispheres, is to me and to all who intimately knew and +loved him a heavy personal loss. Under the shadow of this bereavement, +in the inner circle of mourning, we sorrow most of all that we shall see +his face no more, and long for "the touch of a vanished hand, and the +sound of a voice that is still." + + + + +WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING + +Read at the dedication of the Channing Memorial Church at Newport, R. I. + +DANVERS, MASS., 3d Mo., 13, 1880. + +I scarcely need say that I yield to no one in love and reverence for the +great and good man whose memory, outliving all prejudices of creed, sect, +and party, is the common legacy of Christendom. As the years go on, the +value of that legacy will be more and more felt; not so much, perhaps, in +doctrine as in spirit, in those utterances of a devout soul which are +above and beyond the affirmation or negation of dogma. + +His ethical severity and Christian tenderness; his hatred of wrong and +oppression, with love and pity for the wrong-doer; his noble pleas for +self-culture, temperance, peace, and purity; and above all, his precept +and example of unquestioning obedience to duty and the voice of God in +his soul, can never become obsolete. It is very fitting that his memory +should be especially cherished with that of Hopkins and Berkeley in the +beautiful island to which the common residence of those worthies has lent +additional charms and interest. + + + + +DEATH OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. + +A letter written to W. H. B. Currier, of Amesbury, Mass. + +DANVERS, MASS., 9th Mo., 24, 1881. + +I regret that it is not in my power to join the citizens of Amesbury and +Salisbury in the memorial services on the occasion of the death of our +lamented President. But in heart and sympathy I am with you. I share +the great sorrow which overshadows the land; I fully appreciate the +irretrievable loss. But it seems to me that the occasion is one for +thankfulness as well as grief. + +Through all the stages of the solemn tragedy which has just closed with +the death of our noblest and best, I have felt that the Divine Providence +was overruling the mighty affliction,--that the patient sufferer at +Washington was drawing with cords of sympathy all sections and parties +nearer to each other. And now, when South and North, Democrat and +Republican, Radical and Conservative, lift their voices in one unbroken +accord of lamentation; when I see how, in spite of the greed of gain, the +lust of office, the strifes and narrowness of party politics, the great +heart of the nation proves sound and loyal, I feel a new hope for the +republic, I have a firmer faith in its stability. It is said that no man +liveth and no man dieth to himself; and the pure and noble life of +Garfield, and his slow, long martyrdom, so bravely borne in view of all, +are, I believe, bearing for us as a people "the peaceable fruits of +righteousness." We are stronger, wiser, better, for them. + +With him it is well. His mission fulfilled, he goes to his grave by the +Lakeside honored and lamented as man never was before. The whole world +mourns him. There is no speech nor language where the voice of his +praise is not heard. About his grave gather, with heads uncovered, the +vast brotherhood of man. + +And with us it is well, also. We are nearer a united people than ever +before. We are at peace with all; our future is full of promise; our +industrial and financial condition is hopeful. God grant that, while our +material interests prosper, the moral and spiritual influence of the +occasion may be permanently felt; that the solemn sacrament of Sorrow, +whereof we have been made partakers, may be blest to the promotion of the +righteousness which exalteth a nation. + + + + +LYDIA MARIA CHILD. + + In 1882 a collection of the Letters of Lydia Maria Child was + published, for which I wrote the following sketch, as an + introduction:-- + +In presenting to the public this memorial volume, its compilers deemed +that a brief biographical introduction was necessary; and as a labor of +love I have not been able to refuse their request to prepare it. + +Lydia Maria Francis was born in Medford, Massachusetts, February 11, +1802. Her father, Convers Francis, was a worthy and substantial citizen +of that town. Her brother, Convers Francis, afterwards theological +professor in Harvard College, was some years older than herself, and +assisted her in her early home studies, though, with the perversity of an +elder brother, he sometimes mystified her in answering her questions. +Once, when she wished to know what was meant by Milton's "raven down of +darkness," which was made to smile when smoothed, he explained that it +was only the fur of a black cat, which sparkled when stroked! Later in +life this brother wrote of her, "She has been a dear, good sister to me +would that I had been half as good a brother to her." Her earliest +teacher was an aged spinster, known in the village as "Marm Betty," +painfully shy, and with many oddities of person and manner, the never- +forgotten calamity of whose life was that Governor Brooks once saw her +drinking out of the nose of her tea-kettle. Her school was in her +bedroom, always untidy, and she was a constant chewer of tobacco but the +children were fond of her, and Maria and her father always carried her a +good Sunday dinner. Thomas W. Higginson, in _Eminent Women of the Age_, +mentions in this connection that, according to an established custom, on +the night before Thanksgiving "all the humble friends of the Francis +household--Marm Betty, the washerwoman, wood-sawyer, and journeymen, some +twenty or thirty in all--were summoned to a preliminary entertainment. +They there partook of an immense chicken pie, pumpkin pie made in milk- +pans, and heaps of doughnuts. They feasted in the large, old-fashioned +kitchen, and went away loaded with crackers and bread and pies, not +forgetting 'turnovers' for the children. Such plain application of the +doctrine that it is more blessed to give than receive may have done more +to mould the character of Lydia Maria Child of maturer years than all the +faithful labors of good Dr. Osgood, to whom she and her brother used to +repeat the Assembly's catechism once a month." + +Her education was limited to the public schools, with the exception of +one year at a private seminary in her native town. From a note by her +brother, Dr. Francis, we learn that when twelve years of age she went to +Norridgewock, Maine, where her married sister resided. At Dr. Brown's, +in Skowhegan, she first read _Waverley_. She was greatly excited, and +exclaimed, as she laid down the book, "Why cannot I write a novel?" +She remained in Norridgewock and vicinity for several years, and on her +return to Massachusetts took up her abode with her brother at Watertown. +He encouraged her literary tastes, and it was in his study that she +commenced her first story, _Hobomok_, which she published in the twenty- +first year of her age. The success it met with induced her to give to +the public, soon after, _The Rebels: a Tale of the Revolution_, which was +at once received into popular favor, and ran rapidly through several +editions. Then followed in close succession _The Mother's Book_, running +through eight American editions, twelve English, and one German, _The +Girl's Book_, the _History of Women_, and the _Frugal Housewife_, of +which thirty-five editions were published. Her _Juvenile Miscellany_ was +commenced in 1826. + +It is not too much to say that half a century ago she was the most +popular literary woman in the United States. She had published +historical novels of unquestioned power of description and +characterization, and was widely and favorably known as the editor of the +_Juvenile Miscellany_, which was probably the first periodical in the +English tongue devoted exclusively to children, and to which she was by +far the largest contributor. Some of the tales and poems from her pen +were extensively copied and greatly admired. It was at this period that +the _North American Review_, the highest literary authority of the +country, said of her, "We are not sure that any woman of our country +could outrank Mrs. Child. This lady has been long before the public as +an author with much success. And she well deserves it, for in all her +works nothing can be found which does not commend itself, by its tone of +healthy morality and good sense. Few female writers, if any, have done +more or better things for our literature in the lighter or graver +departments." + +Comparatively young, she had placed herself in the front rank of American +authorship. Her books and her magazine had a large circulation, and were +affording her a comfortable income, at a time when the rewards of +authorship were uncertain and at the best scanty. + +In 1828 she married David Lee Child, Esq., a young and able lawyer, and +took up her residence in Boston. In 1831-32 both became deeply +interested in the subject of slavery, through the writings and personal +influence of William Lloyd Garrison. Her husband, a member of the +Massachusetts legislature and editor of the _Massachusetts Journal_, had, +at an earlier date, denounced the project of the dismemberment of Mexico +for the purpose of strengthening and extending American slavery. He was +one of the earliest members of the New England Anti-Slavery Society, and +his outspoken hostility to the peculiar institution greatly and +unfavorably affected his interests as a lawyer. In 1832 he addressed a +series of able letters on slavery and the slave-trade to Edward S. Abdy, +a prominent English philanthropist. In 1836 he published in Philadelphia +ten strongly written articles on the same subject. He visited England +and France in 1837, and while in Paris addressed an elaborate memoir to +the Societe pour l'Abolition d'Esclavage, and a paper on the same subject +to the editor of the _Eclectic Review_, in London. To his facts and +arguments John Quincy Adams was much indebted in the speeches which he +delivered in Congress on the Texas question. + +In 1833 the American Anti-Slavery Society was formed by a convention in +Philadelphia. Its numbers were small, and it was everywhere spoken +against. It was at this time that Lydia Maria Child startled the country +by the publication of her noble _Appeal in Behalf of that Class of +Americans called Africans_. It is quite impossible for any one of the +present generation to imagine the popular surprise and indignation which +the book called forth, or how entirely its author cut herself off from +the favor and sympathy of a large number of those who had previously +delighted to do her honor. Social and literary circles, which had been +proud of her presence, closed their doors against her. The sale of her +books, the subscriptions to her magazine, fell off to a ruinous extent. +She knew all she was hazarding, and made the great sacrifice, prepared +for all the consequences which followed. In the preface to her book she +says, "I am fully aware of the unpopularity of the task I have +undertaken; but though I expect ridicule and censure, I do not fear them. +A few years hence, the opinion of the world will be a matter in which I +have not even the most transient interest; but this book will be abroad +on its mission of humanity long after the hand that wrote it is mingling +with the dust. Should it be the means of advancing, even one single +hour, the inevitable progress of truth and justice, I would not exchange +the consciousness for all Rothschild's wealth or Sir Walter's fame." + +Thenceforth her life was a battle; a constant rowing hard against the +stream of popular prejudice and hatred. And through it all--pecuniary +privation, loss of friends and position, the painfulness of being +suddenly thrust from "the still air of delightful studies" into the +bitterest and sternest controversy of the age--she bore herself with +patience, fortitude, and unshaken reliance upon the justice and ultimate +triumph of the cause she had espoused. Her pen was never idle. Wherever +there was a brave word to be spoken, her voice was heard, and never +without effect. It is not exaggeration to say that no man or woman at +that period rendered more substantial service to the cause of freedom, or +made such a "great renunciation" in doing it. + +A practical philanthropist, she had the courage of her convictions, and +from the first was no mere closet moralist or sentimental bewailer of the +woes of humanity. She was the Samaritan stooping over the wounded Jew. +She calmly and unflinchingly took her place by the side, of the despised +slave and free man of color, and in word and act protested against the +cruel prejudice which shut out its victims from the rights and privileges +of American citizens. Her philanthropy had no taint of fanaticism; +throughout the long struggle, in which she was a prominent actor, she +kept her fine sense of humor, good taste, and sensibility to the +beautiful in art and nature. + + The opposition she met with from those who had shared her confidence + and friendship was of course keenly felt, but her kindly and genial + disposition remained unsoured. She rarely spoke of her personal + trials, and never posed as a martyr. The nearest approach to + anything like complaint is in the following lines, the date of which + I have not been able to ascertain:-- + + THE WORLD THAT I AM PASSING THROUGH. + + Few in the days of early youth + Trusted like me in love and truth. + I've learned sad lessons from the years, + But slowly, and with many tears; + For God made me to kindly view + The world that I am passing through. + + Though kindness and forbearance long + Must meet ingratitude and wrong, + I still would bless my fellow-men, + And trust them though deceived again. + God help me still to kindly view + The world that I am passing through. + + From all that fate has brought to me + I strive to learn humility, + And trust in Him who rules above, + Whose universal law is love. + Thus only can I kindly view + The world that I am passing through. + + When I approach the setting sun, + And feel my journey well-nigh done, + May Earth be veiled in genial light, + And her last smile to me seem bright. + Help me till then to kindly view + The world that I am passing through. + + And all who tempt a trusting heart + From faith and hope to drift apart, + May they themselves be spared the pain + Of losing power to trust again. + God help us all to kindly view + The world that we are passing through. + +While faithful to the great duty which she felt was laid upon her in an +especial manner, she was by no means a reformer of one idea, but her +interest was manifested in every question affecting the welfare of +humanity. Peace, temperance, education, prison reform, and equality of +civil rights, irrespective of sex, engaged her attention. Under all the +disadvantages of her estrangement from popular favor, her charming Greek +romance of _Philothea_ and her _Lives of Madame Roland_ and the _Baroness +de Stael_ proved that her literary ability had lost nothing of its +strength, and that the hand which penned such terrible rebukes had still +kept its delicate touch, and gracefully yielded to the inspiration of +fancy and art. While engaged with her husband in the editorial +supervision of the _Anti-Slavery Standard_, she wrote her admirable +_Letters from New York_; humorous, eloquent, and picturesque, but still +humanitarian in tone, which extorted the praise of even a pro-slavery +community. Her great work, in three octavo volumes, _The Progress of +Religious Ideas_, belongs, in part, to that period. It is an attempt to +represent in a candid, unprejudiced manner the rise and progress of the +great religions of the world, and their ethical relations to each other. +She availed herself of, and carefully studied, the authorities at that +time accessible, and the result is creditable to her scholarship, +industry, and conscientiousness. If, in her desire to do justice to the +religions of Buddha and Mohammed, in which she has been followed by +Maurice, Max Muller, and Dean Stanley, she seems at times to dwell upon +the best and overlook the darker features of those systems, her +concluding reflections should vindicate her from the charge of +undervaluing the Christian faith, or of lack of reverent appreciation of +its founder. In the closing chapter of her work, in which the large +charity and broad sympathies of her nature are manifest, she thus turns +with words of love, warm from the heart, to Him whose Sermon on the Mount +includes most that is good and true and vital in the religions and +philosophies of the world:-- + +"It was reserved for Him to heal the brokenhearted, to preach a gospel to +the poor, to say, 'Her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved +much.' Nearly two thousand years have passed away since these words of +love and pity were uttered, yet when I read them my eyes fill with tears. +I thank Thee, O Heavenly Father, for all the messengers thou hast sent to +man; but, above all, I thank Thee for Him, thy beloved Son! Pure lily +blossom of the centuries, taking root in the lowliest depths, and +receiving the light and warmth of heaven in its golden heart! All that +the pious have felt, all that poets have said, all that artists have +done, with their manifold forms of beauty, to represent the ministry of +Jesus, are but feeble expressions of the great debt we owe Him who is +even now curing the lame, restoring sight to the blind, and raising the +dead in that spiritual sense wherein all miracle is true." + +During her stay in New York, as editor of the _Anti-Slavery Standard_, +she found a pleasant home at the residence of the genial philanthropist, +Isaac T. Hopper, whose remarkable life she afterwards wrote. Her +portrayal of this extraordinary man, so brave, so humorous, so tender and +faithful to his convictions of duty, is one of the most readable pieces +of biography in English literature. Thomas Wentworth Higginson, in a +discriminating paper published in 1869, speaks of her eight years' +sojourn in New York as the most interesting and satisfactory period of +her whole life. "She was placed where her sympathetic nature found +abundant outlet and occupation. Dwelling in a house where +disinterestedness and noble labor were as daily breath, she had great +opportunities. There was no mere alms-giving; but sin and sorrow must +be brought home to the fireside and the heart; the fugitive slave, the +drunkard, the outcast woman, must be the chosen guests of the abode,-- +must be taken, and held, and loved into reformation or hope." + +It would be a very imperfect representation of Maria Child which regarded +her only from a literary point of view. She was wise in counsel; and men +like Charles Sumner, Henry Wilson, Salmon P. Chase, and Governor Andrew +availed themselves of her foresight and sound judgment of men and +measures. Her pen was busy with correspondence, and whenever a true man +or a good cause needed encouragement, she was prompt to give it. Her +donations for benevolent causes and beneficent reforms were constant and +liberal; and only those who knew her intimately could understand the +cheerful and unintermitted self-denial which alone enabled her to make +them. She did her work as far as possible out of sight, without noise or +pretension. Her time, talents, and money were held not as her own, but a +trust from the Eternal Father for the benefit of His suffering children. +Her plain, cheap dress was glorified by the generous motive for which she +wore it. Whether in the crowded city among the sin-sick and starving, or +among the poor and afflicted in the neighborhood of her country home, no +story of suffering and need, capable of alleviation, ever reached her +without immediate sympathy and corresponding action. Lowell, one of her +warmest admirers, in his _Fable for Critics_ has beautifully portrayed +her abounding benevolence:-- + + "There comes Philothea, her face all aglow: + She has just been dividing some poor creature's woe, + And can't tell which pleases her most, to relieve + His want, or his story to hear and believe. + No doubt against many deep griefs she prevails, + For her ear is the refuge of destitute tales; + She knows well that silence is sorrow's best food, + And that talking draws off from the heart its black blood." + + "The pole, science tells us, the magnet controls, + But she is a magnet to emigrant Poles, + And folks with a mission that nobody knows + Throng thickly about her as bees round a rose. + She can fill up the carets in such, make their scope + Converge to some focus of rational hope, + And, with sympathies fresh as the morning, their gall + Can transmute into honey,--but this is not all; + Not only for those she has solace; O, say, + Vice's desperate nursling adrift in Broadway, + Who clingest, with all that is left of thee human, + To the last slender spar from the wreck of the woman, + Hast thou not found one shore where those tired, drooping feet + Could reach firm mother-earth, one full heart on whose beat + The soothed head in silence reposing could hear + The chimes of far childhood throb back on the ear?" + + "Ah, there's many a beam from the fountain of day + That, to reach us unclouded, must pass, on its way, + Through the soul of a woman, and hers is wide ope + To the influence of Heaven as the blue eyes of Hope; + Yes, a great heart is hers, one that dares to go in + To the prison, the slave-hut, the alleys of sin, + And to bring into each, or to find there, some line + Of the never completely out-trampled divine; + If her heart at high floods swamps her brain now and then, + 'T is but richer for that when the tide ebbs again, + As, after old Nile has subsided, his plain + Overflows with a second broad deluge of grain; + What a wealth would it bring to the narrow and sour, + Could they be as a Child but for one little hour!" + +After leaving New York, her husband and herself took up their residence +in the rural town of Wayland, Mass. Their house, plain and +unpretentious, had a wide and pleasant outlook; a flower garden, +carefully tended by her own hands, in front, and on the side a fruit +orchard and vegetable garden, under the special care of her husband. The +house was always neat, with some appearance of unostentatious decoration, +evincing at once the artistic taste of the hostess and the conscientious +economy which forbade its indulgence to any great extent. Her home was +somewhat apart from the lines of rapid travel, and her hospitality was in +a great measure confined to old and intimate friends, while her visits to +the city were brief and infrequent. A friend of hers, who had ample +opportunities for a full knowledge of her home-life, says, "The domestic +happiness of Mr. and Mrs. Child seemed to me perfect. Their sympathies, +their admiration of all things good, and their hearty hatred of all +things mean and evil were in entire unison. Mr. Child shared his wife's +enthusiasms, and was very proud of her. Their affection, never paraded, +was always manifest. After Mr. Child's death, Mrs. Child, in speaking of +the future life, said, 'I believe it would be of small value to me if I +were not united to him.'" + +In this connection I cannot forbear to give an extract from some +reminiscences of her husband, which she left among her papers, which, +better than any words of mine, will convey an idea of their simple and +beautiful home-life:-- + +"In 1852 we made a humble home in Wayland, Mass., where we spent twenty- +two pleasant years entirely alone, without any domestic, mutually serving +each other, and dependent upon each other for intellectual companionship. +I always depended on his richly stored mind, which was able and ready to +furnish needed information on any subject. He was my walking dictionary +of many languages, my Universal Encyclopaedia. + +"In his old age he was as affectionate and devoted as when the lover of +my youth; nay, he manifested even more tenderness. He was often +singing,-- + + "'There's nothing half so sweet in life + As Love's old dream.' + +"Very often, when he passed by me, he would lay his hand softly on my +head and murmur, 'Carum caput.' . . . But what I remember with the +most tender gratitude is his uniform patience and forbearance with my +faults. . . . He never would see anything but the bright side of my +character. He always insisted upon thinking that whatever I said was the +wisest and the wittiest, and that whatever I did was the best. The +simplest little jeu d'esprit of mine seemed to him wonderfully witty. +Once, when he said, 'I wish for your sake, dear, I were as rich as +Croesus,' I answered, 'You are Croesus, for you are king of Lydia.' How +often he used to quote that! + +"His mind was unclouded to the last. He had a passion for philology, and +only eight hours before he passed away he was searching out the +derivation of a word." + +Her well-stored mind and fine conversational gifts made her company +always desirable. No one who listened to her can forget the earnest +eloquence with which she used to dwell upon the evidences, from history, +tradition, and experience, of the superhuman and supernatural; or with +what eager interest she detected in the mysteries of the old religions of +the world the germs of a purer faith and a holier hope. She loved to +listen, as in St. Pierre's symposium of _The Coffee-House of Surat_, +to the confessions of faith of all sects and schools of philosophy, +Christian and pagan, and gather from them the consoling truth that our +Father has nowhere left his children without some witness of Himself. +She loved the old mystics, and lingered with curious interest and +sympathy over the writings of Bohme, Swedenborg, Molinos, and Woolman. +Yet this marked speculative tendency seemed not in the slightest degree +to affect her practical activities. Her mysticism and realism ran in +close parallel lines without interfering with each other. + +With strong rationalistic tendencies from education and conviction, she +found herself in spiritual accord with the pious introversion of Thomas +a Kempis and Madame Guion. She was fond of Christmas Eve stories, of +warnings, signs, and spiritual intimations, her half belief in which +sometimes seemed like credulity to her auditors. James Russell Lowell, +in his tender tribute to her, playfully alludes to this characteristic:-- + + "She has such a musical taste that she 'll go + Any distance to hear one who draws a long bow. + She will swallow a wonder by mere might and main." + +In 1859 the descent of John Brown upon Harper's Ferry, and his capture, +trial, and death, startled the nation. When the news reached her that +the misguided but noble old man lay desperately wounded in prison, alone +and unfriended, she wrote him a letter, under cover of one to Governor +Wise, asking permission to go and nurse and care for him. The expected +arrival of Captain Brown's wife made her generous offer unnecessary. The +prisoner wrote her, thanking her, and asking her to help his family, a +request with which she faithfully complied. With his letter came one +from Governor Wise, in courteous reproval of her sympathy for John Brown. +To this she responded in an able and effective manner. Her reply found +its way from Virginia to the New York Tribune, and soon after Mrs. Mason, +of King George's County, wife of Senator Mason, the author of the +infamous Fugitive Slave Law, wrote her a vehement letter, commencing with +threats of future damnation, and ending with assuring her that "no +Southerner, after reading her letter to Governor Wise, ought to read a +line of her composition, or touch a magazine which bore her name in its +list of contributors." To this she wrote a calm, dignified reply, +declining to dwell on the fierce invectives of her assailant, and wishing +her well here and hereafter. She would not debate the specific merits or +demerits of a man whose body was in charge of the courts, and whose +reputation was sure to be in charge of posterity. "Men," she continues, +"are of small consequence in comparison with principles, and the +principle for which John Brown died is the question at issue between us." +These letters were soon published in pamphlet form, and had the immense +circulation of 300,000 copies. + +In 1867 she published _A Romance of the Republic_, a story of the days of +slavery; powerful in its delineation of some of the saddest as well as +the most dramatic conditions of master and slave in the Southern States. +Her husband, who had been long an invalid, died in 1874. After his death +her home, in winter especially, became a lonely one, and in 1877 she +began to spend the cold months in Boston. + +Her last publication was in 1878, when her _Aspirations of the World_, a +book of selections, on moral and religious subjects, from the literature +of all nations and times, was given to the public. The introduction, +occupying fifty pages, shows, at threescore and ten, her mental vigor +unabated, and is remarkable for its wise, philosophic tone and felicity +of diction. It has the broad liberality of her more elaborate work on +the same subject, and in the mellow light of life's sunset her words seem +touched with a tender pathos and beauty. "All we poor mortals," she +says, "are groping our way through paths that are dim with shadows; and +we are all striving, with steps more or less stumbling, to follow some +guiding star. As we travel on, beloved companions of our pilgrimage +vanish from our sight, we know not whither; and our bereaved hearts utter +cries of supplication for more light. We know not where Hermes +Trismegistus lived, or who he was; but his voice sounds plaintively +human, coming up from the depths of the ages, calling out, 'Thou art God! +and thy man crieth these things unto Thee!' Thus closely allied in our +sorrows and limitations, in our aspirations and hopes, surely we ought +not to be separated in our sympathies. However various the names by +which we call the Heavenly Father, if they are set to music by brotherly +love, they can all be sung together." + +Her interest in the welfare of the emancipated class at the South and of +the ill-fated Indians of the West remained unabated, and she watched with +great satisfaction the experiment of the education of both classes in +General Armstrong's institution at Hampton, Va. She omitted no +opportunity of aiding the greatest social reform of the age, which aims +to make the civil and political rights of women equal to those of men. +Her sympathies, to the last, went out instinctively to the wronged and +weak. She used to excuse her vehemence in this respect by laughingly +quoting lines from a poem entitled _The Under Dog in the Fight_:-- + + "I know that the world, the great big world, + Will never a moment stop + To see which dog may be in the wrong, + But will shout for the dog on top. + + "But for me, I never shall pause to ask + Which dog may be in the right; + For my heart will beat, while it beats at all, + For the under dog in the fight." + +I am indebted to a gentleman who was at one time a resident of Wayland, +and who enjoyed her confidence and warm friendship, for the following +impressions of her life in that place:-- + +"On one of the last beautiful Indian summer afternoons, closing the past +year, I drove through Wayland, and was anew impressed with the charm of +our friend's simple existence there. The tender beauty of the fading +year seemed a reflection of her own gracious spirit; the lovely autumn of +her life, whose golden atmosphere the frosts of sorrow and advancing age +had only clarified and brightened. + +"My earliest recollection of Mrs. Child in Wayland is of a gentle face +leaning from the old stage window, smiling kindly down on the childish +figures beneath her; and from that moment her gracious motherly presence +has been closely associated with the charm of rural beauty in that +village, which until very lately has been quite apart from the line of +travel, and unspoiled by the rush and worry of our modern steam-car mode +of living. + +"Mrs. Child's life in the place made, indeed, an atmosphere of its own, a +benison of peace and good-will, which was a noticeable feature to all who +were acquainted with the social feeling of the little community, refined, +as it was too, by the elevating influence of its distinguished pastor, +Dr. Sears. Many are the acts of loving kindness and maternal care which +could be chronicled of her residence there, were we permitted to do so; +and numberless are the lives that have gathered their onward impulse from +her helping hand. But it was all a confidence which she hardly betrayed +to her inmost self, and I will not recall instances which might be her +grandest eulogy. Her monument is builded in the hearts which knew her +benefactions, and it will abide with 'the power that makes for +righteousness.' + +"One of the pleasantest elements of her life in Wayland was the high +regard she won from the people of the village, who, proud of her literary +attainment, valued yet more the noble womanhood of the friend who dwelt +so modestly among them. The grandeur of her exalted personal character +had, in part, eclipsed for them the qualities which made her fame with +the world outside. + +"The little house on the quiet by-road overlooked broad green meadows. +The pond behind it, where bloom the lilies whose spotless purity may well +symbolize her gentle spirit, is a sacred pool to her townsfolk. But +perhaps the most fitting similitude of her life in Wayland was the quiet +flow of the river, whose gentle curves make green her meadows, but whose +powerful energy, joining the floods from distant mountains, moves, with +resistless might, the busy shuttles of a hundred mills. She was too +truthful to affect to welcome unwarrantable invaders of her peace, but no +weary traveller on life's hard ways ever applied to her in vain. The +little garden plot before her door was a sacred enclosure, not to be +rudely intruded upon; but the flowers she tended with maternal care were +no selfish possession, for her own enjoyment only, and many are the lives +their sweetness has gladdened forever. So she lived among a singularly +peaceful and intelligent community as one of themselves, industrious, +wise, and happy; with a frugality whose motive of wider benevolence was +in itself a homily and a benediction." + +In my last interview with her, our conversation, as had often happened +before, turned upon the great theme of the future life. She spoke, as I +remember, calmly and not uncheerfully, but with the intense earnestness +and reverent curiosity of one who felt already the shadow of the unseen +world resting upon her. + +Her death was sudden and quite unexpected. For some months she had been +troubled with a rheumatic affection, but it was by no means regarded as +serious. A friend, who visited her a few days before her departure, +found her in a comfortable condition, apart from lameness. She talked of +the coming election with much interest, and of her plans for the winter. +On the morning of her death (October 20, 1880) she spoke of feeling +remarkably well. Before leaving her chamber she complained of severe +pain in the region of the heart. Help was called by her companion, but +only reached her to witness her quiet passing away. + +The funeral was, as befitted one like her, plain and simple. Many of her +old friends were present, and Wendell Phillips paid an affecting and +eloquent tribute to his old friend and anti-slavery coadjutor. He +referred to the time when she accepted, with serene self-sacrifice, the +obloquy which her _Appeal_ had brought upon her, and noted, as one of the +many ways in which popular hatred was manifested, the withdrawal from her +of the privileges of the Boston Athenaeum. Her pallbearers were elderly, +plain farmers in the neighborhood; and, led by the old white-haired +undertaker, the procession wound its way to the not distant burial- +ground, over the red and gold of fallen leaves, and tinder the half- +clouded October sky. A lover of all beautiful things, she was, as her +intimate friends knew, always delighted by the sight of rainbows, and +used to so arrange prismatic glasses as to throw the colors on the walls +of her room. Just after her body was consigned to the earth, a +magnificent rainbow spanned with its are of glory the eastern sky. + + The incident at her burial is alluded to in a sonnet written by + William P. Andrews:-- + + "Freedom! she knew thy summons, and obeyed + That clarion voice as yet scarce heard of men; + Gladly she joined thy red-cross service when + Honor and wealth must at thy feet be laid + Onward with faith undaunted, undismayed + By threat or scorn, she toiled with hand and brain + To make thy cause triumphant, till the chain + Lay broken, and for her the freedmen prayed. + Nor yet she faltered; in her tender care + She took us all; and wheresoe'er she went, + Blessings, and Faith, and Beauty followed there, + E'en to the end, where she lay down content; + And with the gold light of a life more fair, + Twin bows of promise o'er her grave were blest." + +The letters in this collection constitute but a small part of her large +correspondence. They have been gathered up and arranged by the hands of +dear relatives and friends as a fitting memorial of one who wrote from +the heart as well as the head, and who held her literary reputation +subordinate always to her philanthropic aim to lessen the sum of human +suffering, and to make the world better for her living. If they +sometimes show the heat and impatience of a zealous reformer, they may +well be pardoned in consideration of the circumstances under which they +were written, and of the natural indignation of a generous nature in view +of wrong and oppression. If she touched with no very reverent hand the +garment hem of dogmas, and held to the spirit of Scripture rather than +its letter, it must be remembered that she lived in a time when the Bible +was cited in defence of slavery, as it is now in Utah in support of +polygamy; and she may well be excused for some degree of impatience with +those who, in the tithing of mint and anise and cummin, neglected the +weightier matters of the law of justice and mercy. + +Of the men and women directly associated with the beloved subject of this +sketch, but few are now left to recall her single-hearted devotion to +apprehended duty, her unselfish generosity, her love of all beauty and +harmony, and her trustful reverence, free from pretence and cant. It is +not unlikely that the surviving sharers of her love and friendship may +feel the inadequateness of this brief memorial, for I close it with the +consciousness of having failed to fully delineate the picture which my +memory holds of a wise and brave, but tender and loving woman, of whom it +might well have been said, in the words of the old Hebrew text, "Many, +daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all." + + + + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES + + On the occasion of the seventy-fifth birthday of Dr. Holmes _The + Critic of New York_ collected personal tributes from friends and + admirers of that author. My own contribution was as follows:-- + +Poet, essayist, novelist, humorist, scientist, ripe scholar, and wise +philosopher, if Dr. Holmes does not, at the present time, hold in popular +estimation the first place in American literature, his rare versatility +is the cause. In view of the inimitable prose writer, we forget the +poet; in our admiration of his melodious verse, we lose sight of _Elsie +Venner_ and _The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table_. We laugh over his wit +and humor, until, to use his own words, + + "We suspect the azure blossom that unfolds upon a shoot, + As if Wisdom's old potato could not flourish at its root;" + +and perhaps the next page melts us into tears by a pathos only equalled +by that of Sterne's sick Lieutenant. He is Montaigne and Bacon under one +hat. His varied qualities would suffice for the mental furnishing of +half a dozen literary specialists. + +To those who have enjoyed the privilege of his intimate acquaintance, the +man himself is more than the author. His genial nature, entire freedom +from jealousy or envy, quick tenderness, large charity, hatred of sham, +pretence, and unreality, and his reverent sense of the eternal and +permanent have secured for him something more and dearer than literary +renown,--the love of all who know him. I might say much more: I could +not say less. May his life be long in the land. + +Amesbury, Mass., 8th Month, 18, 1884. + + + + +LONGFELLOW + + Written to the chairman of the committee of arrangements for + unveiling the bust of Longfellow at Portland, Maine, on the poet's + birthday, February 27, 1885. + +I am sorry it is not in my power to accept the invitation of the +committee to be present at the unveiling of the bust of Longfellow on the +27th instant, or to write anything worthy of the occasion in metrical +form. + +The gift of the Westminster Abbey committee cannot fail to add another +strong tie of sympathy between two great English-speaking peoples. And +never was gift more fitly bestowed. The city of Portland--the poet's +birthplace, "beautiful for situation," looking from its hills on the +scenery he loved so well, Deering's Oaks, the many-islanded bay and far +inland mountains, delectable in sunset--needed this sculptured +representation of her illustrious son, and may well testify her joy and +gratitude at its reception, and repeat in so doing the words of the +Hebrew prophet: "O man, greatly beloved! thou shalt stand in thy place." + + + + +OLD NEWBURY. + + Letter to Samuel J. Spalding, D. D., on the occasion of the + celebration of the 250th anniversary of the settlement of Newbury. + +MY DEAR FRIEND,--I am sorry that I cannot hope to be with you on the +250th anniversary of the settlement of old Newbury. Although I can +hardly call myself a son of the ancient town, my grandmother, Sarah +Greenleaf, of blessed memory, was its daughter, and I may therefore claim +to be its grandson. Its genial and learned historian, Joshua Coffin, was +my first school-teacher, and all my life I have lived in sight of its +green hills and in hearing of its Sabbath bells. Its wealth of natural +beauty has not been left unsung by its own poets, Hannah Gould, Mrs. +Hopkins, George Lunt, and Edward A. Washburn, while Harriet Prescott +Spofford's Plum Island Sound is as sweet and musical as Tennyson's Brook. +Its history and legends are familiar to me. I seem to have known all its +old worthies, whose descendants have helped to people a continent, and +who have carried the name and memories of their birthplace to the Mexican +gulf and across the Rocky Mountains to the shores of the Pacific. They +were the best and selectest of Puritanism, brave, honest, God-fearing men +and women; and if their creed in the lapse of time has lost something of +its vigor, the influence of their ethical righteousness still endures. +The prophecy of Samuel Sewall that Christians should be found in Newbury +so long as pigeons shall roost on its oaks and Indian corn grows in +Oldtown fields remains still true, and we trust will always remain so. +Yet, as of old, the evil personage sometimes intrudes himself into +company too good for him. It was said in the witchcraft trials of 1692 +that Satan baptized his converts at Newbury Falls, the scene, probably, +of one of Hawthorne's weird _Twice Told Tales_; and there is a tradition +that, in the midst of a heated controversy between one of Newbury's +painful ministers and his deacon, who (anticipating Garrison by a +century) ventured to doubt the propriety of clerical slaveholding, the +Adversary made his appearance in the shape of a black giant stalking +through Byfield. It was never, I believe, definitely settled whether he +was drawn there by the minister's zeal in defence of slavery or the +deacon's irreverent denial of the minister's right and duty to curse +Canaan in the person of his negro. + +Old Newbury has sometimes been spoken of as ultra-conservative and +hostile to new ideas and progress, but this is not warranted by its +history. More than two centuries ago, when Major Pike, just across the +river, stood up and denounced in open town meeting the law against +freedom of conscience and worship, and was in consequence fined and +outlawed, some of Newbury's best citizens stood bravely by him. The town +took no part in the witchcraft horror, and got none of its old women and +town charges hanged for witches, "Goody" Morse had the spirit rappings in +her house two hundred years earlier than the Fox girls did, and somewhat +later a Newbury minister, in wig and knee-buckles, rode, Bible in hand, +over to Hampton to lay a ghost who had materialized himself and was +stamping up and down stairs in his military boots. + +Newbury's ingenious citizen, Jacob Perkins, in drawing out diseases with +his metallic tractors, was quite as successful as modern "faith and mind" +doctors. The Quakers, whipped at Hampton on one hand and at Salem on the +other, went back and forth unmolested in Newbury, for they could make no +impression on its iron-clad orthodoxy. Whitefield set the example, since +followed by the Salvation Army, of preaching in its streets, and now lies +buried under one of its churches with almost the honors of sainthood. +William Lloyd Garrison was born in Newbury. The town must be regarded as +the Alpha and Omega of anti-slavery agitation, beginning with its +abolition deacon and ending with Garrison. Puritanism, here as +elsewhere, had a flavor of radicalism; it had its humorous side, and its +ministers did not hesitate to use wit and sarcasm, like Elijah before the +priests of Baal. As, for instance, the wise and learned clergyman, +Puritan of the Puritans, beloved and reverenced by all, who has just laid +down the burden of his nearly one hundred years, startled and shamed his +brother ministers who were zealously for the enforcement of the Fugitive +Slave Law, by preparing for them a form of prayer for use while engaged +in catching runaway slaves. + +I have, I fear, dwelt too long upon the story and tradition of the old +town, which will doubtless be better told by the orator of the day. The +theme is to me full of interest. Among the blessings which I would +gratefully own is the fact that my lot has been cast in the beautiful +valley of the Merrimac, within sight of Newbury steeples, Plum Island, +and Crane Neck and Pipe Stave hills. + +Let me, in closing, pay something of the debt I have owed from boyhood, +by expressing a sentiment in which I trust every son of the ancient town +will unite: Joshua Coffin, historian of Newbury, teacher, scholar, and +antiquarian, and one of the earliest advocates of slave emancipation. May +his memory be kept green, to use the words of Judge Sewall, "so long as +Plum island keeps its post and a sturgeon leaps in Merrimac River." + +Amesbury, 6th Month, 1885. + + + + +SCHOOLDAY REMEMBRANCES. + + To Rev. Charles Wingate, Hon. James H. Carleton, Thomas B. Garland, + Esq., Committee of Students of Haverhill Academy: + +DEAR FRIENDS,--I was most agreeably surprised last evening by receiving +your carefully prepared and beautiful Haverhill Academy Album, containing +the photographs of a large number of my old friends and schoolmates. I +know of nothing which could have given me more pleasure. If the faces +represented are not so unlined and ruddy as those which greeted each +other at the old academy, on the pleasant summer mornings so long ago, +when life was before us, with its boundless horizon of possibilities, +yet, as I look over them, I see that, on the whole, Time has not been +hard with us, but has touched us gently. The hieroglyphics he has traced +upon us may, indeed, reveal something of the cares, trials, and sorrows +incident to humanity, but they also tell of generous endeavor, beneficent +labor, developed character, and the slow, sure victories of patience and +fortitude. I turn to them with the proud satisfaction of feeling that I +have been highly favored in my early companions, and that I have not been +disappointed in my school friendships. The two years spent at the +academy I have always reckoned among the happiest of my life, though I +have abundant reason for gratitude that, in the long, intervening years, +I have been blessed beyond my deserving. + +It has been our privilege to live in an eventful period, and to witness +wonderful changes since we conned our lessons together. How little we +then dreamed of the steam car, electric telegraph, and telephone! We +studied the history and geography of a world only half explored. Our +country was an unsolved mystery. "The Great American Desert" was an +awful blank on our school maps. We have since passed through the +terrible ordeal of civil war, which has liberated enslaved millions, and +made the union of the States an established fact, and no longer a +doubtful theory. If life is to be measured not so much by years as by +thoughts, emotion, knowledge, action, and its opportunity of a free +exercise of all our powers and faculties, we may congratulate ourselves +upon really outliving the venerable patriarchs. For myself, I would not +exchange a decade of my own life for a century of the Middle Ages, or a +"cycle of Cathay." + +Let me, gentlemen, return my heartiest thanks to you, and to all who have +interested themselves in the preparation of the Academy Album, and assure +you of my sincere wishes for your health and happiness. + +OAK KNOLL, DANVERS, 12th Month, 25, 1885. + + + + +EDWIN PERCY WHIPPLE. + +I have been pained to learn of the decease of nay friend of many years, +Edwin P. Whipple. Death, however expected, is always something of a +surprise, and in his case I was not prepared for it by knowing of any +serious failure of his health. With the possible exception of Lowell and +Matthew Arnold, he was the ablest critical essayist of his time, and the +place he has left will not be readily filled. + +Scarcely inferior to Macaulay in brilliance of diction and graphic +portraiture, he was freer from prejudice and passion, and more loyal to +the truth of fact and history. He was a thoroughly honest man. He wrote +with conscience always at his elbow, and never sacrificed his real +convictions for the sake of epigram and antithesis. He instinctively +took the right side of the questions that came before him for decision, +even when by so doing he ranked himself with the unpopular minority. He +had the manliest hatred of hypocrisy and meanness; but if his language +had at times the severity of justice, it was never merciless. He "set +down naught in malice." + +Never blind to faults, he had a quick and sympathetic eye for any real +excellence or evidence of reserved strength in the author under +discussion. + +He was a modest man, sinking his own personality out of sight, and he +always seemed to me more interested in the success of others than in his +own. Many of his literary contemporaries have had reason to thank him +not only for his cordial recognition and generous praise, but for the +firm and yet kindly hand which pointed out deficiencies and errors of +taste and judgment. As one of those who have found pleasure and profit +in his writings in the past, I would gratefully commend them to the +generation which survives him. His _Literature of the Age of Elizabeth_ +is deservedly popular, but there are none of his Essays which will not +repay a careful study. "What works of Mr. Baxter shall I read?" asked +Boswell of Dr. Johnson. "Read any of them," was the answer, "for they +are all good." + +He will have an honored place in the history of American literature. But +I cannot now dwell upon his authorship while thinking of him as the +beloved member of a literary circle now, alas sadly broken. I recall the +wise, genial companion and faithful friend of nearly half a century, the +memory of whose words and acts of kindness moistens my eyes as I write. + +It is the inevitable sorrow of age that one's companions must drop away +on the right hand and the left with increasing frequency, until we are +compelled to ask with Wordsworth,-- + + "Who next shall fall and disappear?" + +But in the case of him who has just passed from us, we have the +satisfaction of knowing that his life-work has been well and faithfully +done, and that he leaves behind him only friends. + +DANVERS, 6th Month, 18, 1886. + + + + + +HISTORICAL PAPERS + + + + +DANIEL O'CONNELL. + + In February, 1839, Henry Clay delivered a speech in the United + States Senate, which was intended to smooth away the difficulties + which his moderate opposition to the encroachments of slavery had + erected in his path to the presidency. His calumniation of + O'Connell called out the following summary of the career of the + great Irish patriot. It was published originally in the + Pennsylvania Freeman of Philadelphia, April 25, 1839. + +Perhaps the most unlucky portion of the unlucky speech of Henry Clay on +the slavery question is that in which an attempt is made to hold up to +scorn and contempt the great Liberator of Ireland. We say an attempt, +for who will say it has succeeded? Who feels contempt for O'Connell? +Surely not the slaveholder? From Henry Clay, surrounded by his slave- +gang at Ashland, to the most miserable and squalid slave-driver and small +breeder of human cattle in Virginia and Maryland who can spell the name +of O'Connell in his newspaper, these republican brokers in blood fear and +hate the eloquent Irishman. But their contempt, forsooth! Talk of the +sheep-stealer's contempt for the officer of justice who nails his ears to +the pillory, or sets the branding iron on his forehead! + +After denouncing the abolitionists for gratuitously republishing the +advertisements for runaway slaves, the Kentucky orator says:-- + +"And like a notorious agitator upon another theatre, they would hunt down +and proscribe from the pale of civilized society the inhabitants of that +entire section. Allow me, Mr. President, to say that whilst I recognize +in the justly wounded feelings of the Minister of the United States at +the Court of St. James much to excuse the notice which he was provoked to +take of that agitator, in my humble opinion he would better have +consulted the dignity of his station and of his country in treating him +with contemptuous silence. He would exclude us from European society, he +who himself, can only obtain a contraband admission, and is received with +scornful repugnance into it! If he be no more desirous of our society +than we are of his, he may rest assured that a state of perpetual non- +intercourse will exist between us. Yes, sir, I think the American +Minister would best have pursued the dictates of true dignity by +regarding the language of the member of the British House of Commons as +the malignant ravings of the plunderer of his own country, and the +libeller of a foreign and kindred people." + +The recoil of this attack "followed hard upon" the tones of +congratulation and triumph of partisan editors at the consummate skill +and dexterity with which their candidate for the presidency had absolved +himself from the suspicion of abolitionism, and by a master-stroke of +policy secured the confidence of the slaveholding section of the +Union. But the late Whig defeat in New York has put an end to these +premature rejoicings. "The speech of Mr. Clay in reference to the Irish +agitator has been made use of against us with no small success," say the +New York papers. "They failed," says the Daily Evening Star, "to +convince the Irish voters that Daniel O'Connell was the 'plunderer of his +country,' or that there was an excuse for thus denouncing him." + +The defeat of the Whigs of New York and the cause of it have excited no +small degree of alarm among the adherents of the Kentucky orator. In +this city, the delicate _Philadelphia Gazette_ comes magnanimously to the +aid of Henry Clay,-- + + "A tom-tit twittering on an eagle's back." + +The learned editor gives it as his opinion that Daniel O'Connell is a +"political beggar," a "disorganizing apostate;" talks in its pretty way +of the man's "impudence" and "falsehoods" and "cowardice," etc.; and +finally, with a modesty and gravity which we cannot but admire, assures +us that "his weakness of mind is almost beyond calculation!" + +We have heard it rumored during the past week, among some of the self- +constituted organs of the Clay party in this city, that at a late meeting +in Chestnut Street a committee was appointed to collect, collate, and +publish the correspondence between Andrew Stevenson and O'Connell, and so +much of the latter's speeches and writings as relate to American slavery, +for the purpose of convincing the countrymen of O'Connell of the justice, +propriety, and, in view of the aggravated circumstances of the case, +moderation and forbearance of Henry Clay when speaking of a man who has +had the impudence to intermeddle with the "patriarchal institutions" of +our country, and with the "domestic relations" of Kentucky and Virginia +slave-traders. + +We wait impatiently for the fruits of the labors of this sagacious +committee. We should like to see those eloquent and thrilling appeals to +the sense of shame and justice and honor of America republished. We +should like to see if any Irishman, not wholly recreant to the interests +and welfare of the Green Island of his birth, will in consequence of this +publication give his vote to the slanderer of Ireland's best and noblest +champion. + +But who is Daniel O'Connell? "A demagogue--a ruffian agitator!" say the +Tory journals of Great Britain, quaking meantime with awe and +apprehension before the tremendous moral and political power which he is +wielding,--a power at this instant mightier than that of any potentate of +Europe. "A blackguard"--a fellow who "obtains contraband admission into +European society"--a "malignant libeller"--a "plunderer of his country"-- +a man whose "wind should be stopped," say the American slaveholders, and +their apologists, Clay, Stevenson, Hamilton, and the Philadelphia +Gazette, and the Democratic Whig Association. + +But who is Daniel O'Connell? Ireland now does justice to him, the world +will do so hereafter. No individual of the present age has done more for +human liberty. His labors to effect the peaceable deliverance of his own +oppressed countrymen, and to open to the nations of Europe a new and +purer and holier pathway to freedom unstained with blood and unmoistened +by tears, and his mighty instrumentality in the abolition of British +colonial slavery, have left their impress upon the age. They will be +remembered and felt beneficially long after the miserable slanders of +Tory envy and malignity at home, and the clamors of slaveholders abroad, +detected in their guilt, and writhing in the gaze of Christendom, shall +have perished forever,--when the Clays and Calhouns, the Peels and +Wellingtons, the opponents of reform in Great Britain and the enemies of +slave emancipation in the United States, shall be numbered with those who +in all ages, to use the words of the eloquent Lamartine, have "sinned +against the Holy Ghost in opposing the improvement of things,--in an +egotistical and stupid attempt to draw back the moral and social world +which God and nature are urging forward." + +The character and services of O'Connell have never been fully appreciated +in this country. Engrossed in our own peculiar interests, and in the +plenitude of our self-esteem; believing that "we are the people, and that +wisdom will perish with us," that all patriotism and liberality of +feeling are confined to our own territory, we have not followed the +untitled Barrister of Derrynane Abbey, step by step, through the +development of one of the noblest experiments ever made for the cause +of liberty and the welfare of man. + +The revolution which O'Connell has already partially effected in his +native land, and which, from the evident signs of cooperation in England +and Scotland, seems not far from its entire accomplishment, will form a +new era in the history of the civilized world. Heretofore the patriot +has relied more upon physical than moral means for the regeneration of +his country and its redemption from oppression. His revolutions, however +pure in principle, have ended in practical crime. The great truth was +yet to be learned that brute force is incompatible with a pure love of +freedom, inasmuch as it is in itself an odious species of tyranny--the +relic of an age of slavery and barbarism--the common argument of +despotism--a game + + "which, were their subjects wise, + Kings would not play at." + +But the revolution in which O'Connell is engaged, although directed +against the oppression of centuries, relies with just confidence upon the +united moral energies of the people: a moral victory of reason over +prejudice, of justice over oppression; the triumph of intellectual energy +where the brute appeal to arms had miserably failed; the vindication of +man's eternal rights, not by the sword fleshed in human hearts, but by +weapons tempered in the armory of Heaven with truth and mercy and love. + +Nor is it a visionary idea, or the untried theory of an enthusiast, this +triumphant reliance upon moral and intellectual power for the reform of +political abuses, for the overthrowing of tyranny and the pulling down of +the strongholds of arbitrary power. The emancipation of the Catholic of +Great Britain from the thrall of a century, in 1829, prepared the way for +the bloodless triumph of English reform in 1832. The Catholic +Association was the germ of those political unions which compelled, by +their mighty yet peaceful influence, the King of England to yield +submissively to the supremacy of the people. + + (The celebrated Mr. Attwood has been called the "father of political + unions." In a speech delivered by his brother, C. Attwood, Esq., at + the Sunderland Reform Meeting, September 10, 1832, I find the + following admission: "Gentlemen, the first political union was the + Roman Catholic Association of Ireland, and the true founder and + father of political unions is Daniel O'Connell.") + +Both of these remarkable events, these revolutions shaking nations to +their centre, yet polluted with no blood and sullied by no crime, were +effected by the salutary agitations of the public mind, first set in +motion by the masterspirit of O'Connell, and spreading from around him to +every portion of the British empire like the undulations from the +disturbed centre of a lake. + +The Catholic question has been but imperfectly understood in this +country. Many have allowed their just disapprobation of the Catholic +religion to degenerate into a most unwarrantable prejudice against its +conscientious followers. The cruel persecutions of the dissenters from +the Romish Church, the massacre of St. Bartholomew's day, the horrors of +the Inquisition, the crusades against the Albigenses and the simple +dwellers of the Vaudois valleys, have been regarded as atrocities +peculiar to the believers in papal infallibility, and the necessary +consequences of their doctrines; and hence they have looked upon the +constitutional agitation of the Irish Catholics for relief from grieveous +disabilities and unjust distinctions as a struggle merely for supremacy +or power. + +Strange, that the truth to which all history so strongly testifies should +thus be overlooked,--the undeniable truth that religious bigotry and +intolerance have been confined to no single sect; that the persecuted of +one century have been the persecutors of another. In our own country, +it would be well for us to remember that at the very time when in New +England the Catholic, the Quaker, and the Baptist were banished on pain +of death, and where some even suffered that dreadful penalty, in Catholic +Maryland, under the Catholic Lord Baltimore, perfect liberty of +conscience was established, and Papist and Protestant went quietly +through the same streets to their respective altars. + +At the commencement of O'Connell's labors for emancipation he found the +people of Ireland divided into three great classes,--the Protestant or +Church party, the Dissenters, and the Catholics: the Church party +constituting about one tenth of the population, yet holding in possession +the government and a great proportion of the landed property of Ireland, +controlling church and state and law and revenue, the army, navy, +magistracy, and corporations, the entire patronage of the country, +holding their property and power by the favor of England, and +consequently wholly devoted to her interest; the Dissenters, probably +twice as numerous as the Church party, mostly engaged in trade and +manufactures,--sustained by their own talents and industry, Irish in +feeling, partaking in no small degree of the oppression of their Catholic +brethren, and among the first to resist that oppression in 1782; the +Catholics constituting at least two thirds of the whole population, and +almost the entire peasantry of the country, forming a large proportion +of the mercantile interest, yet nearly excluded from the possession of +landed property by the tyrannous operation of the penal laws. Justly has +a celebrated Irish patriot (Theobald Wolfe Tone) spoken of these laws as +"an execrable and infamous code, framed with the art and malice of demons +to plunder and degrade and brutalize the Catholics of Ireland. There was +no disgrace, no injustice, no disqualification, moral, political, or +religious, civil or military, which it has not heaped upon them." + +The following facts relative to the disabilities under which the +Catholics of the United Kingdom labored previous to the emancipation of +1829 will serve to show in some measure the oppressive operation of those +laws which placed the foot of one tenth of the population of Ireland upon +the necks of the remainder. + +A Catholic peer could not sit in the House of Peers, nor a Catholic +commoner in the House of Commons. A Catholic could not be Lord +Chancellor, or Keeper, or Commissioner of the Great Seal; Master or +Keeper of the Rolls; Justice of the King's Bench or of the Common Pleas; +Baron of the Exchequer; Attorney or Solicitor General; King's Sergeant at +Law; Member of the King's Council; Master in Chancery, nor Chairman of +Sessions for the County of Dublin. He could not be the Recorder of a +city or town; an advocate in the spiritual courts; Sheriff of a county, +city, or town; Sub-Sheriff; Lord Lieutenant, Lord Deputy, or other +governor of Ireland; Lord High Treasurer; Governor of a county; Privy +Councillor; Postmaster General; Chancellor of the Exchequer or Secretary +of State; Vice Treasurer, Cashier of the Exchequer; Keeper of the Privy +Seal or Auditor General; Provost or Fellow of Dublin University; nor Lord +Mayor or Alderman of a corporate city or town. He could not be a member +of a parish vestry, nor bequeath any sum of money or any lands for the +maintenance of a clergyman, or for the support of a chapel or a school; +and in corporate towns he was excluded from the grand juries. + +O'Connell commenced his labors for emancipation with the strong +conviction that nothing short of the united exertions of the Irish people +could overthrow the power of the existing government, and that a union of +action could only be obtained by the establishment of something like +equality between the different religious parties. Discarding all other +than peaceful means for the accomplishment of his purpose, he placed +himself and his followers beyond the cognizance of unjust and oppressive +laws. Wherever he poured the oil of his eloquence upon the maddened +spirits of his wronged and insulted countrymen, the mercenary soldiery +found no longer an excuse for violence; and calm, firm, and united, the +Catholic Association remained secure in the moral strength of its pure +and peaceful purpose, amid the bayonets of a Tory administration. His +influence was felt in all parts of the island. Wherever an unlawful +association existed, his great legal knowledge enabled him at once to +detect its character, and, by urging its dissolution, to snatch its +deluded members from the ready fangs of their enemies. In his presence +the Catholic and the Protestant shook hands together, and the wild Irish +clansman forgot his feuds. He taught the party in power, and who +trembled at the dangers around them, that security and peace could only +be obtained by justice and kindness. He entreated his oppressed Catholic +brethren to lay aside their weapons, and with pure hearts and naked hands +to stand firmly together in the calm but determined energy of men, too +humane for deeds of violence, yet too mighty for the patient endurance of +wrong. + +The spirit of the olden time was awakened, of the day when Flood +thundered and Curran lightened; the light which shone for a moment in the +darkness of Ireland's century of wrong burned upwards clearly and +steadily from all its ancient altars. Shoulder to shoulder gathered +around him the patriot spirits of his nation,--men unbribed by the golden +spoils of governmental patronage Shiel with his ardent eloquence, O'Dwyer +and Walsh, and Grattan and O'Connor, and Steel, the Protestant agitator, +wearing around him the emblem of national reconciliation, of the reunion +of Catholic and Protestant,--the sash of blended orange and green, soiled +and defaced by his patriotic errands, stained with the smoke of cabins, +and the night rains and rust of weapons, and the mountain mist, and the +droppings of the wild woods of Clare. He united in one mighty and +resistless mass the broken and discordant factions, whose desultory +struggles against tyranny had hitherto only added strength to its +fetters, and infused into that mass his own lofty principles of action, +until the solemn tones of expostulation and entreaty, bursting at once +from the full heart of Ireland, were caught up by England and echoed back +from Scotland, and the language of justice and humanity was wrung from +the reluctant lips of the cold and remorseless oppressor of his native +land, at once its disgrace and glory,--the conqueror of Napoleon; and, in +the words of his own Curran, the chains of the Catholic fell from around +him, and he stood forth redeemed and disenthralled by the irresistible +genius of Universal Emancipation. + +On the passage of the bill for Catholic emancipation, O'Connell took his +seat in the British Parliament. The eyes of millions were upon him. +Ireland--betrayed so often by those in whom she had placed her +confidence; brooding in sorrowful remembrance over the noble names and +brilliant reputations sullied by treachery and corruption, the long and +dark catalogue of her recreant sons, who, allured by British gold and +British patronage, had sacrificed on the altar of their ambition Irish +pride and Irish independence, and lifted their parricidal arms against +their sorrowing mother, "crownless and voiceless in her woe"--now hung +with breathless eagerness over the ordeal to which her last great +champion was subjected. + +The crisis in O'Connell's destiny had come. + +The glitter of the golden bribe was in his eye; the sound of titled +magnificence was in his ear; the choice was before him to sit high among +the honorable, the titled, and the powerful, or to take his humble seat +in the hall of St. Stephen's as the Irish demagogue, the agitator, the +Kerry representative. He did not hesitate in his choice. On the first +occasion that offered he told the story of Ireland's wrongs, and demanded +justice in the name of his suffering constituents. He had put his hand +to the plough of reform, and he could not relinquish his hold, for his +heart was with it. + +Determined to give the Whig administration no excuse for neglecting the +redress of Irish grievances, he entered heart and soul into the great +measure of English reform, and his zeal, tact, and eloquence contributed +not a little to its success. Yet even his friends speak of his first +efforts in the House of Commons as failures. The Irish accent; the harsh +avowal of purposes smacking of rebellion; the eccentricities and flowery +luxuriance of an eloquence nursed in the fervid atmosphere of Ireland +suddenly transplanted to the cold and commonplace one of St. Stephen's; +the great and illiberal prejudices against him scarcely abated from what +they were when, as the member from Clare, he was mobbed on his way to +London, for a time opposed a barrier to the influence of his talents and +patriotism. But he triumphed at last: the mob-orator of Clare and Kerry, +the declaimer in the Dublin Rooms of the Political and Trades' Union, +became one of the most attractive and popular speakers of the British +Parliament; one whose aid has been courted and whose rebuke has been +feared by the ablest of England's representatives. Amid the sneers of +derision and the clamor of hate and prejudice he has triumphed,--on that +very arena so fatal to Irish eloquence and Irish fame, where even Grattan +failed to sustain himself, and the impetuous spirit of Flood was stricken +down. + +No subject in which Ireland was not directly interested has received a +greater share of O'Connell's attention than that of the abolition of +colonial slavery. Utterly detesting tyranny of all kinds, he poured +forth his eloquent soul in stern reprobation of a system full at once of +pride and misery and oppression, and darkened with blood. His speech on +the motion of Thomas Fowell Buxton for the immediate emancipation of the +slaves gave a new tone to the discussion of the question. He entered +into no petty pecuniary details; no miserable computation of the +shillings and pence vested in beings fashioned in the image of God. He +did not talk of the expediency of continuing the evil because it had +grown monstrous. To use his own words, he considered "slavery a crime to +be abolished; not merely an evil to be palliated." He left Sir Robert +Peel and the Tories to eulogize the characters and defend the interests +of the planters, in common with those of a tithe-reaping priesthood, +building their houses by oppression and their chambers by wrong, and +spoke of the negro's interest, the negro's claim to justice; demanding +sympathy for the plundered as well as the plunderers, for the slave as +well as his master. He trampled as dust under his feet the blasphemy +that obedience to the law of eternal justice is a principle to be +acknowledged in theory only, because unsafe in practice. He would, +he said, enter into no compromise with slavery. He cared not what cast +or creed or color it might assume, whether personal or political, +intellectual or spiritual; he was for its total, immediate abolition. He +was for justice,--justice in the name of humanity and according to the +righteous law of the living God. + +Ardently admiring our free institutions, and constantly pointing to our +glorious political exaltation as an incentive to the perseverance of his +own countrymen in their struggle against oppression, he has yet omitted +no opportunity of rebuking our inexcusable slave system. An enthusiastic +admirer of Jefferson, he has often regretted that his practice should +have so illy accorded with his noble sentiments on the subject of +slavery, which so fully coincided with his own. In truth, wherever man +has been oppressed by his fellow-man, O'Connell's sympathy has been +directed: to Italy, chained above the very grave of her ancient +liberties; to the republics of Southern America; to Greece, dashing the +foot of the indolent Ottoman from her neck; to France and Belgium; and +last, not least, to Poland, driven from her cherished nationality, and +dragged, like his own Ireland, bleeding and violated, to the deadly +embrace of her oppressor. American slavery but shares in his common +denunciation of all tyranny; its victims but partake of his common pity +for the oppressed and persecuted and the trodden down. + +In this hasty and imperfect sketch we cannot enter into the details of +that cruel disregard of Irish rights which was manifested by a Reformed +Parliament, convoked, to use the language of William IV., "to ascertain +the sense of the people." It is perhaps enough to say that O'Connell's +indignant refusal to receive as full justice the measure of reform meted +out to Ireland was fully justified by the facts of the case. The Irish +Reform Bill gave Ireland, with one third of the entire population of the +United Kingdoms, only one sixth of the Parliamentary delegation. It +diminished instead of increasing the number of voters; in the towns and +cities it created a high and aristocratic franchise; in many boroughs it +established so narrow a basis of franchise as to render them liable to +corruption and abuse as the rotten boroughs of the old system. It threw +no new power into the hands of the people; and with no little justice has +O'Connell himself termed it an act to restore to power the Orange +ascendancy in Ireland, and to enable a faction to trample with impunity +on the friends of reform and constitutional freedom. (Letters to the +Reformers of Great Britain, No. 1.) + +In May, 1832, O'Connell commenced the publication of his celebrated +_Letters to the Reformers of Great Britain_. Like Tallien, before the +French convention, he "rent away the veil" which Hume and Atwood had only +partially lifted. He held up before the people of Great Britain the new +indignities which had been added to the long catalogue of Ireland's +wrongs; he appealed to their justice, their honor, their duty, for +redress, and cast down before the Whig administration the gauntlet of his +country's defiance and scorn. There is a fine burst of indignant Irish +feeling in the concluding paragraphs of his fourth letter:-- + +"I have demonstrated the contumelious injuries inflicted upon us by this +Reform Bill. My letters are long before the public. They have been +unrefuted, uncontradicted in any of their details. And with this case of +atrocious injustice to Ireland placed before the reformers of Great +Britain, what assistance, what sympathy, do we receive? Why, I have got +some half dozen drivelling letters from political unions and political +characters, asking me whether I advise them to petition or bestir +themselves in our behalf! + +"Reformers of Great Britain! I do not ask you either to petition or be +silent. I do not ask you to petition or to do any other act in favor of +the Irish. You will consult your own feelings of justice and generosity, +unprovoked by any advice or entreaty of mine. + +"For my own part, I never despaired of Ireland; I do not, I will not, +I cannot, despair of my beloved country. She has, in my view, obtained +freedom of conscience for others, as well as for herself. She has shaken +off the incubus of tithes while silly legislation was dealing out its +folly and its falsehoods. She can, and she will, obtain for herself +justice and constitutional freedom; and although she may sigh at British +neglect and ingratitude, there is no sound of despair in that sigh, nor +any want of moral energy on her part to attain her own rights by +peaceable and legal means." + +The tithe system, unutterably odious and full of all injustice, had +prepared the way for this expression of feeling on the part of the +people. Ireland had never, in any period of her history, bowed her neck +peaceably to the ecclesiastical yoke. From the Canon of Cashel, prepared +by English deputies in the twelfth century, decreeing for the first time +that tithes should be paid in Ireland, down to the present moment, the +Church in her borders has relied solely upon the strong arm of the law, +and literally reaped its tithes with the sword. The decree of the Dublin +Synod, under Archbishop Comyn, in 1185, could only be enforced within the +pale of the English settlement. The attempts of Henry VIII. also failed. +Without the pale all endeavors to collect tithes were met by stern +opposition. And although from the time of William III. the tithe system +has been established in Ireland, yet at no period has it been regarded +otherwise than as a system of legalized robbery by seven eighths of the +people. An examination of this system cannot fail to excite our wonder, +not that it has been thus regarded, but that it has been so long endured +by any people on the face of the earth, least of all by Irishmen. Tithes +to the amount of L1,000,000 are annually wrung from impoverished Ireland, +in support of a clergy who can only number about one sixteenth of her +population as their hearers; and wrung, too, in an undue proportion, from +the Catholic counties. (See Dr. Doyle's Evidence before Hon. E. G. +Stanley.) In the southern and middle counties, almost entirely inhabited +by the Catholic peasantry, every thing they possess is subject to the +tithe: the cow is seized in the hovel, the potato in the barrel, the coat +even on the poor man's back. (Speech of T. Reynolds, Esq., at an anti- +tithe meeting.) The revenues of five of the dignitaries of the Irish +Church Establishment are as follows: the Primacy L140,000; Derry +L120,000; Kilmore L100,000; Clogher L100,000; Waterford L70,000. Compare +these enormous sums with that paid by Scotland for the maintenance of the +Church, namely L270,000. Yet that Church has 2,000,000 souls under its +care, while that of Ireland has not above 500,000. Nor are these +princely livings expended in Ireland by their possessors. The bishoprics +of Cloyne and Meath have been long held by absentees,--by men who know no +more of their flocks than the non-resident owner of a West India +plantation did of the miserable negroes, the fruits of whose thankless +labor were annually transmitted to him. Out of 1289 benefited clergymen +in Ireland, between five and six hundred are non-residents, spending in +Bath and London, or in making the fashionable tour of the Continent, the +wealth forced from the Catholic peasant and the Protestant dissenter by +the bayonets of the military. Scorching and terrible was the sarcasm of +Grattan applied to these locusts of the Church: "A beastly and pompous +priesthood, political potentates and Christian pastors, full of false +zeal, full of worldly pride, and full of gluttony, empty of the true +religion, to their flocks oppressive, to their inferior clergy brutal, to +their king abject, and to their God impudent and familiar,--they stand on +the altar as a stepping-stone to the throne, glorying in the ear of +princes, whom they poison with crooked principles and heated advice; a +faction against their king when they are not his slaves,--ever the dirt +under his feet or a poniard to his heart." + +For the evils of absenteeism, the non-residence of the wealthy +landholders, draining from a starving country the very necessaries of +life, a remedy is sought in a repeal of the union, and the provisions of +a domestic parliament. In O'Connell's view, a restoration of such a +parliament can alone afford that adequate protection to the national +industry so loudly demanded by thousands of unemployed laborers, starving +amid the ruins of deserted manufactories. During the brief period of +partial Irish liberty which followed the pacific revolution of '82, the +manufactures of the country revived and flourished; and the smile of +contented industry was visible all over the land. In 1797 there were +15,000 silk-weavers in the city of Dublin alone. There are now but 400. +Such is the practical effect of the Union, of that suicidal act of the +Irish Parliament which yielded up in a moment of treachery and terror the +dearest interests of the country to the legislation of an English +Parliament and the tender mercies of Castlereagh,--of that Castlereagh +who, when accused by Grattan of spending L15,000 in purchasing votes for +the Union, replied with the rare audacity of high-handed iniquity, "We +did spend L15,000, and we would have spent L15,000,000 if necessary to +carry the Union; "that Castlereagh who, when 707,000 Irishmen petitioned +against the Union and 300,000 for it, maintained that the latter +constituted the majority! Well has it been said that the deep vengeance +which Ireland owed him was inflicted by the great criminal upon himself. +The nation which he sold and plundered saw him make with his own hand the +fearful retribution. The great body of the Irish people never assented +to the Union. The following extract from a speech of Earl (then Mr.) +Grey, in 1800, upon the Union question, will show what means were made +use of to drag Ireland, while yet mourning over her slaughtered children, +to the marriage altar with England: "If the Parliament of Ireland had +been left to itself, untempted and unawed, it would without hesitation +have rejected the resolutions. Out of the 300 members, 120 strenuously +opposed the measure, 162 voted for it: of these, 116 were placemen; some +of them were English generals on the staff, without a foot of ground in +Ireland, and completely dependent on government." "Let us reflect upon +the arts made use of since the last session of the Irish Parliament to +pack a majority, for Union, in the House of Commons. All persons holding +offices under government, if they hesitated to vote as directed, were +stripped of all their employments. A bill framed for preserving the +purity of Parliament was likewise abused, and no less than 63 seats were +vacated by their holders having received nominal offices." + +The signs of the times are most favorable to the success of the Irish +Liberator. The tremendous power of the English political unions is +beginning to develop itself in favor of Ireland. A deep sympathy is +evinced for her sufferings, and a general determination to espouse her +cause. Brute force cannot put down the peaceable and legal agitation of +the question of her rights and interests. The spirit of the age forbids +it. The agitation will go on, for it is spreading among men who, to use +the words of the eloquent Shiel, while looking out upon the ocean, and +gazing upon the shore, which Nature has guarded with so many of her +bulwarks, can hear the language of Repeal muttered in the dashing of the +very waves which separate them from Great Britain by a barrier of God's +own creation. Another bloodless victory, we trust, awaits O'Connell,--a +victory worthy of his heart and intellect, unstained by one drop of human +blood, unmoistened by a solitary tear. + +Ireland will be redeemed and disenthralled, not perhaps by a repeal of +the Union, but by the accomplishment of such a thorough reform in the +government and policy of Great Britain as shall render a repeal +unnecessary and impolitic. + +The sentiments of O'Connell in regard to the means of effecting his +object of political reform are distinctly impressed upon all his appeals +to the people. In his letter of December, 1832, to the Dublin Trades +Union, he says: "The Repealers must not have our cause stained with +blood. Far indeed from it. We can, and ought to, carry the repeal only +in the total absence of offence against the laws of man or crime in the +sight of God. The best revolution which was ever effected could not be +worth one drop of human blood." In his speech at the public dinner given +him by--the citizens of Cork, we find a yet more earnest avowal of +pacific principles. "It may be stated," said he, "to countervail our +efforts, that this struggle will involve the destruction of life and +property; that it will overturn the framework of civil society, and give +an undue and fearful influence to one rank to the ruin of all others. +These are awful considerations, truly, if risked. I am one of those who +have always believed that any political change is too dearly purchased by +a single drop of blood, and who think that any political superstructure +based upon other opinion is like the sand-supported fabric,--beautiful in +the brief hour of sunshine, but the moment one drop of rain touches the +arid basis melting away in wreck and ruin! I am an accountable being; I +have a soul and a God to answer to, in another and better world, for my +thoughts and actions in this. I disclaim here any act of mine which +would sport with the lives of my fellow-creatures, any amelioration of +our social condition which must be purchased by their blood. And here, +in the face of God and of our common country, I protest that if I did not +sincerely and firmly believe that the amelioration I desire could be +effected without violence, without any change in the relative scale of +ranks in the present social condition of Ireland, except that change +which all must desire, making each better than it was before, and +cementing all in one solid irresistible mass, I would at once give up the +struggle which I have always kept with tyranny. I would withdraw from +the contest which I have hitherto waged with those who would perpetuate +our thraldom. I would not for one moment dare to venture for that which +in costing one human life would cost infinitely too dear. But it will +cost no such price. Have we not had within my memory two great political +revolutions? And had we them not without bloodshed or violence to the +social compact? Have we not arrived at a period when physical force and +military power yield to moral and intellectual energy. Has not the time +of 'Cedant arma togae' come for us and the other nations of the earth?" + +Let us trust that the prediction of O'Connell will be verified; that +reason and intellect are destined, under God, to do that for the nations +of the earth which the physical force of centuries and the red sacrifice +of a thousand battle-fields have failed to accomplish. Glorious beyond +all others will be the day when "nation shall no more rise up against +nation;" when, as a necessary consequence of the universal acknowledgment +of the rights of man, it shall no longer be in the power of an individual +to drag millions into strife, for the unholy gratification of personal +prejudice and passion. The reformed governments of Great Britain and +France, resting, as they do, upon a popular basis, are already tending to +this consummation, for the people have suffered too much from the warlike +ambition of their former masters not to have learned that the gains of +peaceful industry are better than the wages of human butchery. + +Among the great names of Ireland--alike conspicuous, yet widely +dissimilar--stand Wellington and O'Connell. The one smote down the +modern Alexander upon Waterloo's field of death, but the page of his +reputation is dim with the tears of the widow and the orphan, and dark +with the stain of blood. The other, armed only with the weapons of truth +and reason, has triumphed over the oppression of centuries, and opened a +peaceful pathway to the Temple of Freedom, through which its Goddess may +be seen, no longer propitiated with human sacrifices, like some foul idol +of the East, but clothed in Christian attributes, and smiling in the +beauty of holiness upon the pure hearts and peaceful hands of its +votaries. The bloodless victories of the latter have all the sublimity +with none of the criminality which attaches itself to the triumphs of the +former. To thunder high truths in the deafened ear of nations, to rouse +the better spirit of the age, to soothe the malignant passions of. +assembled and maddened men, to throw open the temple doors of justice to +the abused, enslaved, and persecuted, to unravel the mysteries of guilt, +and hold up the workers of iniquity in the severe light of truth stripped +of their disguise and covered with the confusion of their own vileness,-- +these are victories more glorious than any which have ever reddened the +earth with carnage:-- + + "They ask a spirit of more exalted pitch, + And courage tempered with a holier fire." + +Of the more recent efforts of O'Connell we need not speak, for no one can +read the English periodicals and papers without perceiving that O'Connell +is, at this moment, the leading politician, the master mind of the +British empire. Attempts have been made to prejudice the American mind +against him by a republication on this side of the water of the false and +foul slanders of his Tory enemies, in reference to what is called the +"O'Connell rent," a sum placed annually in his hands by a grateful +people, and which he has devoted scrupulously to the great object of +Ireland's political redemption. He has acquired no riches by his +political efforts his heart and soul and mind and strength have been +directed to his suffering country and the cause of universal freedom. +For this he has deservedly a place in the heart and affections of every +son of Ireland. One million of ransomed slaves in the British +dependencies will teach their children to repeat the name of O'Connell +with that of Wilberforce and Clarkson. And when the stain and caste of +slavery shall have passed from our own country, he will be regarded as +our friend and benefactor, whose faithful rebukes and warnings and +eloquent appeals to our pride of character, borne to us across the +Atlantic, touched the guilty sensitiveness of the national conscience, +and through shame prepared the way for repentance. + + + + +ENGLAND UNDER JAMES II. + + A review of the first two volumes of Macaulay's _History of England + from the Accession of James II_. + +In accordance with the labor-saving spirit of the age, we have in these +volumes an admirable example of history made easy. Had they been +published in his time, they might have found favor in the eyes of the +poet Gray, who declared that his ideal of happiness was "to lie on a sofa +and read eternal new romances." + +The style is that which lends such a charm to the author's essays,-- +brilliant, epigrammatic, vigorous. Indeed, herein lies the fault of the +work, when viewed as a mere detail of historical facts. Its sparkling +rhetoric is not the safest medium of truth to the simple-minded inquirer. +A discriminating and able critic has done the author no injustice in +saying that, in attempting to give effect and vividness to his thoughts +and diction, he is often overstrained and extravagant, and that his +epigrammatic style seems better fitted for the glitter of paradox than +the sober guise of truth. The intelligent and well-informed reader of +the volume before us will find himself at times compelled to reverse the +decisions of the author, and deliver some unfortunate personage, sect, or +class from the pillory of his rhetoric and the merciless pelting of his +ridicule. There is a want of the repose and quiet which we look for in +a narrative of events long passed away; we rise from the perusal of the +book pleased and excited, but with not so clear a conception of the +actual realities of which it treats as would be desirable. We cannot +help feeling that the author has been somewhat over-scrupulous in +avoiding the dulness of plain detail, and the dryness of dates, names, +and statistics. The freedom, flowing diction, and sweeping generality of +the reviewer and essayist are maintained throughout; and, with one +remarkable exception, the _History of England_ might be divided into +papers of magazine length, and published, without any violence to +propriety, as a continuation of the author's labors in that department of +literature in which he confessedly stands without a rival,--historical +review. + +That exception is, however, no unimportant one. In our view, it is the +crowning excellence of the first volume,--its distinctive feature and +principal attraction. We refer to the third chapter of the volume, from +page 260 to page 398,--the description of the condition of England at the +period of the accession of James II. We know of nothing like it in the +entire range of historical literature. The veil is lifted up from the +England of a century and a half ago; its geographical, industrial, +social, and moral condition is revealed; and, as the panorama passes +before us of lonely heaths, fortified farm-houses, bands of robbers, +rude country squires doling out the odds and ends of their coarse fare +to clerical dependents,--rough roads, serviceable only for horseback +travelling,--towns with unlighted streets, reeking with filth and offal, +--and prisons, damp, loathsome, infected with disease, and swarming with +vermin,--we are filled with wonder at the contrast which it presents to +the England of our day. We no longer sigh for "the good old days." The +most confirmed grumbler is compelled to admit that, bad as things now +are, they were far worse a few generations back. Macaulay, in this +elaborate and carefully prepared chapter, has done a good service to +humanity in disabusing well-intentioned ignorance of the melancholy +notion that the world is growing worse, and in putting to silence the +cant of blind, unreasoning conservatism. + +In 1685 the entire population of England our author estimates at from +five millions to five millions five hundred thousand. Of the eight +hundred thousand families at that period, one half had animal food twice +a week. The other half ate it not at all, or at most not oftener than +once a week. Wheaten, loaves were only seen at the tables of the +comparatively wealthy. Rye, barley, and oats were the food of the vast +majority. The average wages of workingmen was at least one half less +than is paid in England for the same service at the present day. One +fifth of the people were paupers, or recipients of parish relief. +Clothing and bedding were scarce and dear. Education was almost unknown +to the vast majority. The houses and shops were not numbered in the +cities, for porters, coachmen, and errand-runners could not read. The +shopkeeper distinguished his place of business by painted signs and +graven images. Oxford and Cambridge Universities were little better than +modern grammar and Latin school in a provincial village. The country +magistrate used on the bench language too coarse, brutal, and vulgar for +a modern tap-room. Fine gentlemen in London vied with each other in the +lowest ribaldry and the grossest profanity. The poets of the time, from +Dryden to Durfey, ministered to the popular licentiousness. The most +shameless indecency polluted their pages. The theatre and the brothel +were in strict unison. The Church winked at the vice which opposed +itself to the austere morality or hypocrisy of Puritanism. The superior +clergy, with a few noble exceptions, were self-seekers and courtiers; the +inferior were idle, ignorant hangerson upon blaspheming squires and +knights of the shire. The domestic chaplain, of all men living, held the +most unenviable position. "If he was permitted to dine with the family, +he was expected to content himself with the plainest fare. He might fill +himself with the corned beef and carrots; but as soon as the tarts and +cheese-cakes made their appearance he quitted his seat, and stood aloof +till he was summoned to return thanks for the repast, from a great part +of which he had been excluded." + +Beyond the Trent the country seems at this period to have been in a state +of barbarism. The parishes kept bloodhounds for the purpose of hunting +freebooters. The farm-houses were fortified and guarded. So dangerous +was the country that persons about travelling thither made their wills. +Judges and lawyers only ventured therein, escorted by a strong guard of +armed men. + +The natural resources of the island were undeveloped. The tin mines of +Cornwall, which two thousand years before attracted the ships of the +merchant princes of Tyre beyond the Pillars of Hercules, were indeed +worked to a considerable extent; but the copper mines, which now yield +annually fifteen thousand tons, were entirely neglected. Rock salt was +known to exist, but was not used to any considerable extent; and only a +partial supply of salt by evaporation was obtained. The coal and iron of +England are at this time the stable foundations of her industrial and +commercial greatness. But in 1685 the great part of the iron used was +imported. Only about ten thousand tons were annually cast. Now eight +hundred thousand is the average annual production. Equally great has +been the increase in coal mining. "Coal," says Macaulay, "though very +little used in any species of manufacture, was already the ordinary fuel +in some districts which were fortunate enough to possess large beds, and +in the capital, which could easily be supplied by water carriage. It +seems reasonable to believe that at least one half of the quantity then +extracted from the pits was consumed in London. The consumption of +London seemed to the writers of that age enormous, and was often +mentioned by them as a proof of the greatness of the imperial city. They +scarcely hoped to be believed when they affirmed that two hundred and +eighty thousand chaldrons--that is to say, about three hundred and fifty +thousand tons-were, in the last year of the reign of Charles II., brought +to the Thames. At present near three millions and a half of tons are +required yearly by the metropolis; and the whole annual produce cannot, +on the most moderate computation, be estimated at less than twenty +millions of tons." + +After thus passing in survey the England of our ancestors five or six +generations back, the author closes his chapter with some eloquent +remarks upon the progress of society. Contrasting the hardness and +coarseness of the age of which he treats with the softer and more humane +features of our own, he says: "Nowhere could be found that sensitive and +restless compassion which has in our time extended powerful protection to +the factory child, the Hindoo widow, to the negro slave; which pries into +the stores and water-casks of every emigrant ship; which winces at every +lash laid on the back of a drunken soldier; which will not suffer the +thief in the hulks to be ill fed or overworked; and which has repeatedly +endeavored to save the life even of the murderer. The more we study the +annals of the past, the more shall we rejoice that we live in a merciful +age, in an age in which cruelty is abhorred, and in which pain, even when +deserved, is inflicted reluctantly and from a sense of duty. Every +class, doubtless, has gained largely by this great moral change; but the +class which has gained most is the poorest, the most dependent, and the +most defenceless." + +The history itself properly commences at the close of this chapter. +Opening with the deathscene of the dissolute Charles II., it presents a +series of brilliant pictures of the events succeeding: The miserable fate +of Oates and Dangerfield, the perjured inventors of the Popish Plot; the +trial of Baxter by the infamous Jeffreys; the ill-starred attempt of the +Duke of Monmouth; the battle of Sedgemoor, and the dreadful atrocities of +the king's soldiers, and the horrible perversion of justice by the king's +chief judge in the "Bloody Assizes;" the barbarous hunting of the Scotch +Dissenters by Claverbouse; the melancholy fate of the brave and noble +Duke of Argyle,--are described with graphic power unknown to Smollett or +Hume. Personal portraits are sketched with a bold freedom which at times +startles us. The "old familiar faces," as we have seen them through the +dust of a century and a half, start before us with lifelike distinctness +of outline and coloring. Some of them disappoint us; like the ghost of +Hamlet's father, they come in a "questionable shape." Thus, for +instance, in his sketch of William Penn, the historian takes issue with +the world on his character, and labors through many pages of disingenuous +innuendoes and distortion of facts to transform the saint of history into +a pliant courtier. + +The second volume details the follies and misfortunes, the decline and +fall, of the last of the Stuarts. All the art of the author's splendid +rhetoric is employed in awakening, by turns, the indignation and contempt +of the reader in contemplating the character of the wrong-headed king. +In portraying that character, he has brought into exercise all those +powers of invective and merciless ridicule which give such a savage +relish to his delineation of Barrere. To preserve the consistency of +this character, he denies the king any credit for whatever was really +beneficent and praiseworthy in his government. He holds up the royal +delinquent in only two lights: the one representing him as a tyrant +towards his people; the other as the abject slave of foreign priests,-- +a man at once hateful and ludicrous, of whom it is difficult to speak +without an execration or a sneer. + +The events which preceded the revolution of 1688; the undisguised +adherence of the king to the Church of Rome; the partial toleration of +the despised Quakers and Anabaptists; the gradual relaxation of the +severity of the penal laws against Papists and Dissenters, preparing the +way for the royal proclamation of entire liberty of conscience throughout +the British realm, allowing the crop-eared Puritan and the Papist priest +to build conventicles and mass houses under the very eaves of the palaces +of Oxford and Canterbury; the mining and countermining of Jesuits and +prelates, are detailed with impartial minuteness. The secret springs of +the great movements of the time are laid bare; the mean and paltry +instrumentalities are seen at work in the under world of corruption, +prejudice, and falsehood. No one, save a blind, unreasoning partisan of +Catholicism or Episcopacy, can contemplate this chapter in English +history without a feeling of disgust. However it may have been overruled +for good by that Providence which takes the wise in their own craftiness, +the revolution of 1688, in itself considered, affords just as little +cause for self-congratulation on the part of Protestants as the +substitution of the supremacy of the crowned Bluebeard, Henry VIII., for +that of the Pope, in the English Church. It had little in common with +the revolution of 1642. The field of its action was the closet of +selfish intrigue,--the stalls of discontented prelates,--the chambers of +the wanton and adulteress,--the confessional of a weak prince, whose +mind, originally narrow, had been cramped closer still by the strait- +jacket of religious bigotry and superstition. The age of nobility and +heroism had well-nigh passed away. The pious fervor, the self-denial, +and the strict morality of the Puritanism of the days of Cromwell, and +the blunt honesty and chivalrous loyalty of the Cavaliers, had both +measurably given place to the corrupting influences of the licentious and +infidel court of Charles II.; and to the arrogance, intolerance, and +shameless self-seeking of a prelacy which, in its day of triumph and +revenge, had more than justified the terrible denunciations and scathing +gibes of Milton. + +Both Catholic and Protestant writers have misrepresented James II. He +deserves neither the execrations of the one nor the eulogies of the +other. The candid historian must admit that he was, after all, a better +man than his brother Charles II. He was a sincere and bigoted Catholic, +and was undoubtedly honest in the declaration, which he made in that +unlucky letter which Burnet ferreted out on the Continent, that he was +prepared to make large steps to build up the Catholic Church in England, +and, if necessary, to become a martyr in her cause. He was proud, +austere, and self-willed. In the treatment of his enemies he partook of +the cruel temper of his time. He was at once ascetic and sensual, +alternating between the hair-shirt of penance and the embraces of +Catharine Sedley. His situation was one of the most difficult and +embarrassing which can be conceived of. He was at once a bigoted Papist +and a Protestant pope. He hated the French domination to which his +brother had submitted; yet his pride as sovereign was subordinated to his +allegiance to Rome and a superstitious veneration for the wily priests +with which Louis XIV. surrounded him. As the head of Anglican heretics, +he was compelled to submit to conditions galling alike to the sovereign +and the man. He found, on his accession, the terrible penal laws against +the Papists in full force; the hangman's knife was yet warm with its +ghastly butcher-work of quartering and disembowelling suspected Jesuits +and victims of the lie of Titus Oates; the Tower of London had scarcely +ceased to echo the groans of Catholic confessors stretched on the rack by +Protestant inquisitors. He was torn by conflicting interests and +spiritual and political contradictions. The prelates of the Established +Church must share the responsibility of many of the worst acts of the +early part of his reign. Oxford sent up its lawned deputations to mingle +the voice of adulation with the groans of tortured Covenanters, and +fawning ecclesiastics burned the incense of irreverent flattery under the +nostrils of the Lord's anointed, while the blessed air of England was +tainted by the carcasses of the ill-fated followers of Monmouth, rotting +on a thousand gibbets. While Jeffreys was threatening Baxter and his +Presbyterian friends with the pillory and whipping-post; while Quakers +and Baptists were only spared from extermination as game preserves for +the sport of clerical hunters; while the prisons were thronged with the +heads of some fifteen thousand beggared families, and Dissenters of every +name and degree were chased from one hiding-place to another, like David +among the cliffs of Ziph and the rocks of the wild goats,--the +thanksgivings and congratulations of prelacy arose in an unbroken strain +of laudation from all the episcopal palaces of England. What mattered it +to men, in whose hearts, to use the language of John Milton, "the sour +leaven of human traditions, mixed with the poisonous dregs of hypocrisy, +lay basking in the sunny warmth of wealth and promotion, hatching +Antichrist," that the privileges of Englishmen and the rights secured by +the great charter were violated and trodden under foot, so long as +usurpation enured to their own benefit? But when King James issued his +Declaration of Indulgence, and stretched his prerogative on the side of +tolerance and charity, the zeal of the prelates for preserving the +integrity of the British constitution and the limiting of the royal power +flamed up into rebellion. They forswore themselves without scruple: the +disciples of Laud, the asserters of kingly infallibility and divine +right, talked of usurped power and English rights in the strain of the +very schismatics whom they had persecuted to the death. There is no +reason to believe that James supposed that, in issuing his declaration +suspending the penal laws, he had transcended the rightful prerogative of +his throne. The power which he exercised had been used by his +predecessors for far less worthy purposes, and with the approbation of +many of the very men who now opposed him. His ostensible object, +expressed in language which even those who condemn his policy cannot but +admire, was a laudable and noble one. "We trust," said he, "that it will +not be vain that we have resolved to use our utmost endeavors to +establish liberty of conscience on such just and equal foundations as +will render it unalterable, and secure to all people the free exercise of +their religion, by which future ages may reap the benefit of what is so +undoubtedly the general good of the whole kingdom." Whatever may have +been the motive of this declaration,--even admitting the suspicions of +his enemies to have been true, that he advocated universal toleration as +the only means of restoring Roman Catholics to all the rights and +privileges of which the penal laws deprived them,--it would seem that +there could have been no very serious objection on the part of real +friends of religious toleration to the taking of him at his word and +placing Englishmen of every sect on an equality before the law. The +Catholics were in a very small minority, scarcely at that time as +numerous as the Quakers and Anabaptists. The army, the navy, and nine +tenths of the people of England were Protestants. Real danger, +therefore, from a simple act of justice towards their Catholic fellow- +citizens, the people of England had no ground for apprehending. But the +great truth, which is even now but imperfectly recognized throughout +Christendom, that religious opinions rest between man and his Maker, and +not between man and the magistrate, and that the domain of conscience is +sacred, was almost unknown to the statesmen and schoolmen of the +seventeenth century. Milton--ultra liberal as he was--excepted the +Catholics from his plan of toleration. Locke, yielding to the prejudices +of the time, took the same ground. The enlightened latitudinarian +ministers of the Established Church--men whose talents and Christian +charity redeem in some measure the character of that Church in the day of +its greatest power and basest apostasy--stopped short of universal +toleration. The Presbyterians excluded Quakers, Baptists, and Papists +from the pale of their charity. With the single exception of the sect of +which William Penn was a conspicuous member, the idea of complete and +impartial toleration was novel and unwelcome to all sects and classes of +the English people. Hence it was that the very men whose liberties and +estates had been secured by the declaration, and who were thereby +permitted to hold their meetings in peace and quietness, used their newly +acquired freedom in denouncing the king, because the same key which had +opened their prison doors had also liberated the Papists and the Quakers. +Baxter's severe and painful spirit could not rejoice in an act which had, +indeed, restored him to personal freedom, but which had, in his view, +also offended Heaven, and strengthened the powers of Antichrist by +extending the same favor to Jesuits and Ranters. Bunyan disliked the +Quakers next to the Papists; and it greatly lessened his satisfaction at +his release from Bedford jail that it had been brought about by the +influence of the former at the court of a Catholic prince. Dissenters +forgot the wrongs and persecutions which they had experienced at the +hands of the prelacy, and joined the bishops in opposition to the +declaration. They almost magnified into Christian confessors the +prelates who remonstrated against the indulgence, and actually plotted +against the king for restoring them to liberty of person and conscience. +The nightmare fear of Popery overcame their love of religious liberty; +and they meekly offered their necks to the yoke of prelacy as the only +security against the heavier one of Papist supremacy. In a far different +manner the cleareyed and plain-spoken John Milton met the claims and +demands of the hierarchy in his time. "They entreat us," said he, "that +we be not weary of the insupportable grievances that our shoulders have +hitherto cracked under; they beseech us that we think them fit to be our +justices of peace, our lords, our highest officers of state. They pray +us that it would please us to let them still haul us and wrong us with +their bandogs and pursuivants; and that it would please the Parliament +that they may yet have the whipping, fleecing, and flaying of us in their +diabolical courts, to tear the flesh from our bones, and into our wide +wounds, instead of balm, to pour in the oil of tartar, vitriol, and +mercury. Surely a right, reasonable, innocent, and soft-hearted +petition! O the relenting bowels of the fathers!" + +Considering the prominent part acted by William Penn in the reign of +James II., and his active and influential support of the obnoxious +declaration which precipitated the revolution of 1688, it could hardly +have been otherwise than that his character should suffer from the +unworthy suspicions and prejudices of his contemporaries. His views of +religious toleration were too far in advance of the age to be received +with favor. They were of necessity misunderstood and misrepresented. +All his life he had been urging them with the earnestness of one whose +convictions were the result, not so much of human reason as of what he +regarded as divine illumination. What the council of James yielded upon +grounds of state policy he defended on those of religious obligation. +He had suffered in person and estate for the exercise of his religion. +He had travelled over Holland and Germany, pleading with those in +authority for universal toleration and charity. On a sudden, on the +accession of James, the friend of himself and his family, he found +himself the most influential untitled citizen in the British realm. +He had free access to the royal ear. Asking nothing for himself or his +relatives, he demanded only that the good people of England should be no +longer despoiled of liberty and estate for their religious opinions. +James, as a Catholic, had in some sort a common interest with his +dissenting subjects, and the declaration was for their common relief. +Penn, conscious of the rectitude of his own motives and thoroughly +convinced of the Christian duty of toleration, welcomed that declaration +as the precursor of the golden age of liberty and love and good-will to +men. He was not the man to distrust the motives of an act so fully in +accordance with his lifelong aspirations and prayers. He was charitable +to a fault: his faith in his fellow-men was often stronger than a clearer +insight of their characters would have justified. He saw the errors of +the king, and deplored them; he denounced Jeffreys as a butcher who had +been let loose by the priests; and pitied the king, who was, he thought, +swayed by evil counsels. He remonstrated against the interference of the +king with Magdalen College; and reproved and rebuked the hopes and aims +of the more zealous and hot-headed Catholics, advising them to be content +with simple toleration. But the constitution of his mind fitted him +rather for the commendation of the good than the denunciation of the bad. +He had little in common with the bold and austere spirit of the Puritan +reformers. He disliked their violence and harshness; while, on the other +hand, he was attracted and pleased by the gentle disposition and mild +counsels of Locke, and Tillotson, and the latitudinarians of the English +Church. He was the intimate personal and political friend of Algernon +Sydney; sympathized with his republican theories, and shared his +abhorrence of tyranny, civil and ecclesiastical. He found in him a man +after his own heart,--genial, generous, and loving; faithful to duty and +the instincts of humanity; a true Christian gentleman. His sense of +gratitude was strong, and his personal friendships sometimes clouded his +judgment. In giving his support to the measures of James in behalf of +liberty of conscience, it must be admitted that he acted in consistency +with his principles and professions. To have taken ground against them, +he must have given the lie to his declarations from his youth upward. He +could not disown and deny his own favorite doctrine because it came from +the lips of a Catholic king and his Jesuit advisers; and in thus rising +above the prejudices of his time, and appealing to the reason and +humanity of the people of England in favor of a cordial indorsement on +the part of Parliament of the principles of the declaration, he believed +that he was subserving the best interests of his beloved country and +fulfilling the solemn obligations of religious duty. The downfall of +James exposed Penn to peril and obloquy. Perjured informers endeavored +to swear away his life; and, although nothing could be proved against him +beyond the fact that he had steadily supported the great measure of +toleration, he was compelled to live secluded in his private lodgings in +London for two or three years, with a proclamation for his arrest hanging +over his head. At length, the principal informer against him having been +found guilty of perjury, the government warrant was withdrawn; and Lords +Sidney, Rochester, and Somers, and the Duke of Buckingham, publicly bore +testimony that nothing had been urged against him save by impostors, and +that "they had known him, some of them, for thirty years, and had never +known him to do an ill thing, but many good offices." It is a matter of +regret that one professing to hold the impartial pen of history should +have given the sanction of his authority to the slanderous and false +imputations of such a man as Burnet, who has never been regarded as an +authentic chronicler. The pantheon of history should not be lightly +disturbed. A good man's character is the world's common legacy; and +humanity is not so rich in models of purity and goodness as to be able to +sacrifice such a reputation as that of William Penn to the point of an +antithesis or the effect of a paradox. + + Gilbert Burnet, in liberality as a politician and tolerance as a + Churchman, was far in advance of his order and time. It is true + that he shut out the Catholics from the pale of his charity and + barely tolerated the Dissenters. The idea of entire religious + liberty and equality shocked even his moderate degree of + sensitiveness. He met Penn at the court of the Prince of Orange, + and, after a long and fruitless effort to convince the Dissenter + that the penal laws against the Catholics should be enforced, and + allegiance to the Established Church continue the condition of + qualification for offices of trust and honor, and that he and his + friends should rest contented with simple toleration, he became + irritated by the inflexible adherence of Penn to the principle of + entire religious freedom. One of the most worthy sons of the + Episcopal Church, Thomas Clarkson, alluding to this discussion, says + "Burnet never mentioned him (Penn) afterwards but coldly or + sneeringly, or in a way to lower him in the estimation of the + reader, whenever he had occasion to speak of him in his History of + his Own Times." + + He was a man of strong prejudices; he lived in the midst of + revolutions, plots, and intrigues; he saw much of the worst side of + human nature; and he candidly admits, in the preface to his great + work, that he was inclined to think generally the worst of men and + parties, and that the reader should make allowance for this + inclination, although he had honestly tried to give the truth. Dr. + King, of Oxford, in his Anecdotes of his Own Times, p. 185, says: + "I knew Burnet: he was a furious party-man, and easily imposed upon + by any lying spirit of his faction; but he was a better pastor than + any man who is now seated on the bishops' bench." The Tory writers + --Swift, Pope, Arbuthnot, and others--have undoubtedly exaggerated + the defects of Burnet's narrative; while, on the other hand, his + Whig commentators have excused them on the ground of his avowed and + fierce partisanship. Dr. Johnson, in his blunt way, says: "I do not + believe Burnet intentionally lied; but he was so much prejudiced + that he took no pains to find out the truth." On the contrary, Sir + James Mackintosh, in the Edinburgh Review, speaks of the Bishop as + an honest writer, seldom substantially erroneous, though often + inaccurate in points of detail; and Macaulay, who has quite too + closely followed him in his history, defends him as at least quite + as accurate as his contemporary writers, and says that, "in his + moral character, as in his intellectual, great blemishes were more + than compensated by great excellences." + + + + +THE BORDER WAR OF 1708. + +The picturesque site of the now large village of Haverhill, on the +Merrimac River, was occupied a century and a half ago by some thirty +dwellings, scattered at unequal distances along the two principal roads, +one of which, running parallel with the river, intersected the other, +which ascended the hill northwardly and lost itself in the dark woods. +The log huts of the first settlers had at that time given place to +comparatively spacious and commodious habitations, framed and covered +with sawed boards, and cloven clapboards, or shingles. They were, many +of them, two stories in front, with the roof sloping off behind to a +single one; the windows few and small, and frequently so fitted as to be +opened with difficulty, and affording but a scanty supply of light and +air. Two or three of the best constructed were occupied as garrisons, +where, in addition to the family, small companies of soldiers were +quartered. On the high grounds rising from the river stood the mansions +of the well-defined aristocracy of the little settlement,--larger and +more imposing, with projecting upper stories and carved cornices. On the +front of one of these, over the elaborately wrought entablature of the +doorway, might be seen the armorial bearings of the honored family of +Saltonstall. Its hospitable door was now closed; no guests filled its +spacious hall or partook of the rich delicacies of its ample larder. +Death had been there; its venerable and respected occupant had just been +borne by his peers in rank and station to the neighboring graveyard. +Learned, affable, intrepid, a sturdy asserter of the rights and liberties +of the Province, and so far in advance of his time as to refuse to yield +to the terrible witchcraft delusion, vacating his seat on the bench and +openly expressing his disapprobation of the violent and sanguinary +proceedings of the court, wise in council and prompt in action,--not his +own townsmen alone, but the people of the entire Province, had reason to +mourn the loss of Nathaniel Saltonstall. + +Four years before the events of which we are about to speak, the Indian +allies of the French in Canada suddenly made their appearance in the +westerly part of the settlement. At the close of a midwinter day six +savages rushed into the open gate of a garrison-house owned by one +Bradley, who appears to have been absent at the time. A sentinel, +stationed in the house, discharged his musket, killing the foremost +Indian, and was himself instantly shot down. The mistress of the house, +a spirited young woman, was making soap in a large kettle over the fire. +--She seized her ladle and dashed the boiling liquid in the faces of the +assailants, scalding one of them severely, and was only captured after +such a resistance as can scarcely be conceived of by the delicately +framed and tenderly nurtured occupants of the places of our great- +grandmothers. After plundering the house, the Indians started on their +long winter march for Canada. Tradition says that some thirteen persons, +probably women and children, were killed outright at the garrison. +Goodwife Bradley and four others were spared as prisoners. The ground +was covered with deep snow, and the captives were compelled to carry +heavy burdens of their plundered household-stuffs; while for many days in +succession they had no other sustenance than bits of hide, ground-nuts, +the bark of trees, and the roots of wild onions, and lilies. In this +situation, in the cold, wintry forest, and unattended, the unhappy young +woman gave birth to a child. Its cries irritated the savages, who +cruelly treated it and threatened its life. To the entreaties of the +mother they replied, that they would spare it on the condition that it +should be baptized after their fashion. She gave the little innocent +into their hands, when with mock solemnity they made the sign of the +cross upon its forehead, by gashing it with their knives, and afterwards +barbarously put it to death before the eyes of its mother, seeming to +regard the whole matter as an excellent piece of sport. Nothing so +strongly excited the risibilities of these grim barbarians as the tears +and cries of their victims, extorted by physical or mental agony. +Capricious alike in their cruelties and their kindnesses, they treated +some of their captives with forbearance and consideration and tormented +others apparently without cause. One man, on his way to Canada, was +killed because they did not like his looks, "he was so sour;" another, +because he was "old and good for nothing." One of their own number, who +was suffering greatly from the effects of the scalding soap, was derided +and mocked as a "fool who had let a squaw whip him;" while on the other +hand the energy and spirit manifested by Goodwife Bradley in her defence +was a constant theme of admiration, and gained her so much respect among +her captors as to protect her from personal injury or insult. On her +arrival in Canada she was sold to a French farmer, by whom she was kindly +treated. + +In the mean time her husband made every exertion in his power to +ascertain her fate, and early in the next year learned that she was a +slave in Canada. He immediately set off through the wilderness on foot, +accompanied only by his dog, who drew a small sled, upon which he carried +some provisions for his sustenance, and a bag of snuff, which the +Governor of the Province gave him as a present to the Governor of Canada. +After encountering almost incredible hardships and dangers with a +perseverance which shows how well he appreciated the good qualities of +his stolen helpmate, he reached Montreal and betook himself to the +Governor's residence. Travel-worn, ragged, and wasted with cold and +hunger, he was ushered into the presence of M. Vaudreuil. The courtly +Frenchman civilly received the gift of the bag of snuff, listened to the +poor fellow's story, and put him in a way to redeem his wife without +difficulty. The joy of the latter on seeing her husband in the strange +land of her captivity may well be imagined. They returned by water, +landing at Boston early in the summer. + +There is a tradition that this was not the goodwife's first experience of +Indian captivity. The late Dr. Abiel Abbott, in his manuscript of Judith +Whiting's _Recollections of the Indian Wars_, states that she had +previously been a prisoner, probably before her marriage. After her +return she lived quietly at the garrison-house until the summer of the +next year. One bright moonlit-night a party of Indians were seen +silently and cautiously approaching. The only occupants of the garrison +at that time were Bradley, his wife and children, and a servant. The +three adults armed themselves with muskets, and prepared to defend +themselves. Goodwife Bradley, supposing the Indians had come with the +intention of again capturing her, encouraged her husband to fight to the +last, declaring that she had rather die on her own hearth than fall into +their hands. The Indians rushed upon the garrison, and assailed the +thick oaken door, which they forced partly open, when a well-aimed shot +from Goodwife Bradley laid the foremost dead on the threshold. The loss +of their leader so disheartened them that they made a hasty retreat. + +The year 1707 passed away without any attack upon the exposed frontier +settlement. A feeling of comparative security succeeded to the almost +sleepless anxiety and terror of the inhabitants; and they were beginning +to congratulate each other upon the termination of their long and bitter +trials. But the end was not yet. + +Early in the spring of 1708, the principal tribes of Indians in alliance +with the French held a great council, and agreed to furnish three hundred +warriors for an expedition to the English frontier. + +They were joined by one hundred French Canadians and several volunteers, +consisting of officers of the French army, and younger sons of the +nobility, adventurous and unscrupulous. The Sieur de Chaillons, and +Hertel de Rouville, distinguished as a partisan in former expeditions, +cruel and unsparing as his Indian allies, commanded the French troops; +the Indians, marshalled under their several chiefs, obeyed the general +orders of La Perriere. A Catholic priest accompanied them. De Ronville, +with the French troops and a portion of the Indians, took the route by +the River St. Francois about the middle of summer. La Perriere, with the +French Mohawks, crossed Lake Champlain. The place of rendezvous was Lake +Nickisipigue. On the way a Huron accidentally killed one of his +companions; whereupon the tribe insisted on halting and holding a +council. It was gravely decided that this accident was an evil omen, and +that the expedition would prove disastrous; and, in spite of the +endeavors of the French officers, the whole band deserted. Next the +Mohawks became dissatisfied, and refused to proceed. To the entreaties +and promises of their French allies they replied that an infectious +disease had broken out among them, and that, if they remained, it would +spread through the whole army. The French partisans were not deceived by +a falsehood so transparent; but they were in no condition to enforce +obedience; and, with bitter execrations and reproaches, they saw the +Mohawks turn back on their warpath. The diminished army pressed on to +Nickisipigue, in the expectation of meeting, agreeably to their promise, +the Norridgewock and Penobscot Indians. They found the place deserted, +and, after waiting for some days, were forced to the conclusion that the +Eastern tribes had broken their pledge of cooperation. Under these +circumstances a council was held; and the original design of the +expedition, namely, the destruction of the whole line of frontier towns, +beginning with Portsmouth, was abandoned. They had still a sufficient +force for the surprise of a single settlement; and Haverhill, on the +Merrimac, was selected for conquest. + +In the mean time, intelligence of the expedition, greatly exaggerated in +point of numbers and object, had reached Boston, and Governor Dudley had +despatched troops to the more exposed out posts of the Provinces of +Massachusetts and New Hampshire. Forty men, under the command of Major +Turner and Captains Price and Gardner, were stationed at Haverhill in the +different garrison-houses. At first a good degree of vigilance was +manifested; but, as days and weeks passed without any alarm, the +inhabitants relapsed into their old habits; and some even began to +believe that the rumored descent of the Indians was only a pretext for +quartering upon them two-score of lazy, rollicking soldiers, who +certainly seemed more expert in making love to their daughters, and +drinking their best ale and cider, than in patrolling the woods or +putting the garrisons into a defensible state. The grain and hay harvest +ended without disturbance; the men worked in their fields, and the women +pursued their household avocations, without any very serious apprehension +of danger. + +Among the inhabitants of the village was an eccentric, ne'er-do-well +fellow, named Keezar, who led a wandering, unsettled life, oscillating, +like a crazy pendulum, between Haverhill and Amesbury. He had a +smattering of a variety of trades, was a famous wrestler, and for a mug +of ale would leap over an ox-cart with the unspilled beverage in his +hand. On one occasion, when at supper, his wife complained that she had +no tin dishes; and, as there were none to be obtained nearer than Boston, +he started on foot in the evening, travelled through the woods to the +city, and returned with his ware by sunrise the next morning, passing +over a distance of between sixty and seventy miles. The tradition of his +strange habits, feats of strength, and wicked practical jokes is still +common in his native town. On the morning of the 29th of the eighth +month he was engaged in taking home his horse, which, according to his +custom, he had turned into his neighbor's rich clover field the evening +previous. By the gray light of dawn he saw a long file of men marching +silently towards the town. He hurried back to the village and gave the +alarm by firing a gun. Previous to this, however, a young man belonging +to a neighboring town, who had been spending the night with a young woman +of the village, had met the advance of the war-party, and, turning back +in extreme terror and confusion, thought only of the safety of his +betrothed, and passed silently through a considerable part of the village +to her dwelling. After he had effectually concealed her he ran out to +give the alarm. But it was too late. Keezar's gun was answered by the +terrific yells, whistling, and whooping of the Indians. House after +house was assailed and captured. Men, women, and children were +massacred. The minister of the town was killed by a shot through his +door. Two of his children were saved by the courage and sagacity of his +negro slave Hagar. She carried them into the cellar and covered them +with tubs, and then crouched behind a barrel of meat just in time to +escape the vigilant eyes of the enemy, who entered the cellar and +plundered it. She saw them pass and repass the tubs under which the +children lay and take meat from the very barrel which concealed herself. +Three soldiers were quartered in the house; but they made no defence, and +were killed while begging for quarter. + +The wife of Thomas Hartshorne, after her husband and three sons had +fallen, took her younger children into the cellar, leaving an infant on a +bed in the garret, fearful that its cries would betray her place of +concealment if she took it with her. The Indians entered the garret and +tossed the child out of the window upon a pile of clapboards, where it +was afterwards found stunned and insensible. It recovered, nevertheless, +and became a man of remarkable strength and stature; and it used to be a +standing joke with his friends that he had been stinted by the Indians +when they threw him out of the window. Goodwife Swan, armed with a long +spit, successfully defended her door against two Indians. While the +massacre went on, the priest who accompanied the expedition, with some of +the French officers, went into the meeting-house, the walls of which were +afterwards found written over with chalk. At sunrise, Major Turner, with +a portion of his soldiers, entered the village; and the enemy made a +rapid retreat, carrying with them seventeen, prisoners. They were +pursued and overtaken just as they were entering the woods; and a severe +skirmish took place, in which the rescue of some of the prisoners was +effected. Thirty of the enemy were left dead on the field, including the +infamous Hertel de Rouville. On the part of the villagers, Captains Ayer +and Wainwright and Lieutenant Johnson, with thirteen others, were killed. +The intense heat of the weather made it necessary to bury the dead on the +same day. They were laid side by side in a long trench in the burial- +ground. The body of the venerated and lamented minister, with those of +his wife and child, sleep in another part of the burial-ground, where may +still be seen a rude monument with its almost llegible inscription:-- + +"_Clauditur hoc tumulo corpus Reverendi pii doctique viri D. Benjamin +Rolfe, ecclesiae Christi quae est in Haverhill pastoris fidelissimi; qui +domi suae ab hostibus barbare trucidatus. A laboribus suis requievit +mane diei sacrae quietis, Aug. XXIX, anno Dom. MDCCVIII. AEtatis suae +XLVI_." + +Of the prisoners taken, some escaped during the skirmish, and two or +three were sent back by the French officers, with a message to the +English soldiers, that, if they pursued the party on their retreat to +Canada, the other prisoners should be put to death. One of them, a +soldier stationed in Captain Wainwright's garrison, on his return four +years after, published an account of his captivity. He was compelled to +carry a heavy pack, and was led by an Indian by a cord round his neck. +The whole party suffered terribly from hunger. On reaching Canada the +Indians shaved one side of his head, and greased the other, and painted +his face. At a fort nine miles from Montreal a council was held in order +to decide his fate; and he had the unenviable privilege of listening to a +protracted discussion upon the expediency of burning him. The fire was +already kindled, and the poor fellow was preparing to meet his doom with +firmness, when it was announced to him that his life was spared. This +result of the council by no means satisfied the women and boys, who had +anticipated rare sport in the roasting of a white man and a heretic. One +squaw assailed him with a knife and cut off one of his fingers; another +beat him with a pole. The Indians spent the night in dancing and +singing, compelling their prisoner to go round the ring with them. In +the morning one of their orators made a long speech to him, and formally +delivered him over to an old squaw, who took him to her wigwam and +treated him kindly. Two or three of the young women who were carried +away captive married Frenchmen in Canada and never returned. Instances +of this kind were by no means rare during the Indian wars. The simple +manners, gayety, and social habits of the French colonists among whom the +captives were dispersed seem to have been peculiarly fascinating to the +daughters of the grave and severe Puritans. + +At the beginning of the present century, Judith Whiting was the solitary +survivor of all who witnessed the inroad of the French and Indians in +1708. She was eight years of age at the time of the attack, and her +memory of it to the last was distinct and vivid. Upon her old brain, +from whence a great portion of the records of the intervening years had +been obliterated, that terrible picture, traced with fire and blood, +retained its sharp outlines and baleful colors. + + + + +THE GREAT IPSWICH FRIGHT. + + "The Frere into the dark gazed forth; + The sounds went onward towards the north + The murmur of tongues, the tramp and tread + Of a mighty army to battle led." + BALLAD OF THE CID. + + +Life's tragedy and comedy are never far apart. The ludicrous and the +sublime, the grotesque and the pathetic, jostle each other on the stage; +the jester, with his cap and bells, struts alongside of the hero; the +lord mayor's pageant loses itself in the mob around Punch and Judy; the +pomp and circumstance of war become mirth-provoking in a militia muster; +and the majesty of the law is ridiculous in the mock dignity of a +justice's court. The laughing philosopher of old looked on one side of +life and his weeping contemporary on the other; but he who has an eye to +both must often experience that contrariety of feeling which Sterne +compares to "the contest in the moist eyelids of an April morning, +whether to laugh or cry." + +The circumstance we are about to relate, may serve as an illustration of +the way in which the woof of comedy interweaves with the warp of tragedy. +It occurred in the early stages of the American Revolution, and is part +and parcel of its history in the northeastern section of Massachusetts. + +About midway between Salem and the ancient town of Newburyport, the +traveller on the Eastern Railroad sees on the right, between him and the +sea, a tall church-spire, rising above a semicircle of brown roofs and +venerable elms; to which a long scalloping range of hills, sweeping off +to the seaside, forms a green background. This is Ipswich, the ancient +Agawam; one of those steady, conservative villages, of which a few are +still left in New England, wherein a contemporary of Cotton Mather and +Governor Endicott, were he permitted to revisit the scenes of his painful +probation, would scarcely feel himself a stranger. Law and Gospel, +embodied in an orthodox steeple and a court-house, occupy the steep, +rocky eminence in its midst; below runs the small river under its +picturesque stone bridge; and beyond is the famous female seminary, where +Andover theological students are wont to take unto themselves wives of +the daughters of the Puritans. An air of comfort and quiet broods over +the whole town. Yellow moss clings to the seaward sides of the roofs; +one's eyes are not endangered by the intense glare of painted shingles +and clapboards. The smoke of hospitable kitchens curls up through the +overshadowing elms from huge-throated chimneys, whose hearth-stones have +been worn by the feet of many generations. The tavern was once renowned +throughout New England, and it is still a creditable hostelry. During +court time it is crowded with jocose lawyers, anxious clients, sleepy +jurors, and miscellaneous hangers on; disinterested gentlemen, who have +no particular business of their own in court, but who regularly attend +its sessions, weighing evidence, deciding upon the merits of a lawyer's +plea or a judge's charge, getting up extempore trials upon the piazza or +in the bar-room of cases still involved in the glorious uncertainty of +the law in the court-house, proffering gratuitous legal advice to +irascible plaintiffs and desponding defendants, and in various other ways +seeing that the Commonwealth receives no detriment. In the autumn old +sportsmen make the tavern their headquarters while scouring the marshes +for sea-birds; and slim young gentlemen from the city return thither with +empty game-bags, as guiltless in respect to the snipes and wagtails as +Winkle was in the matter of the rooks, after his shooting excursion at +Dingle Dell. Twice, nay, three times, a year, since third parties have +been in fashion, the delegates of the political churches assemble in +Ipswich to pass patriotic resolutions, and designate the candidates whom +the good people of Essex County, with implicit faith in the wisdom of the +selection, are expected to vote for. For the rest there are pleasant +walks and drives around the picturesque village. The people are noted +for their hospitality; in summer the sea-wind blows cool over its healthy +hills, and, take it for all in all, there is not a better preserved or +pleasanter specimen of a Puritan town remaining in the ancient +Commonwealth. + +The 21st of April, 1775, witnessed an awful commotion in the little +village of Ipswich. Old men, and boys, (the middle-aged had marched to +Lexington some days before) and all the women in the place who were not +bedridden or sick, came rushing as with one accord to the green in front +of the meeting-house. A rumor, which no one attempted to trace or +authenticate, spread from lip to lip that the British regulars had landed +on the coast and were marching upon the town. A scene of indescribable +terror and confusion followed. Defence was out of the question, as the +young and able-bodied men of the entire region round about had marched to +Cambridge and Lexington. The news of the battle at the latter place, +exaggerated in all its details, had been just received; terrible stories +of the atrocities committed by the dreaded "regulars" had been related; +and it was believed that nothing short of a general extermination of the +patriots--men, women, and children--was contemplated by the British +commander.--Almost simultaneously the people of Beverly, a village a few +miles distant, were smitten with the same terror. How the rumor was +communicated no one could tell. It was there believed that the enemy had +fallen upon Ipswich, and massacred the inhabitants without regard to age +or sex. + +It was about the middle of the afternoon of this day that the people of +Newbury, ten miles farther north, assembled in an informal meeting, at +the town-house to hear accounts from the Lexington fight, and to consider +what action was necessary in consequence of that event. Parson Carey was +about opening the meeting with prayer when hurried hoof-beats sounded up +the street, and a messenger, loose-haired and panting for breath, rushed +up the staircase. "Turn out, turn out, for God's sake," he cried, "or +you will be all killed! The regulars are marching onus; they are at +Ipswich now, cutting and slashing all before them!" Universal +consternation was the immediate result of this fearful announcement; +Parson Carey's prayer died on his lips; the congregation dispersed over +the town, carrying to every house the tidings that the regulars had come. +Men on horseback went galloping up and down the streets, shouting the +alarm. Women and children echoed it from every corner. The panic became +irresistible, uncontrollable. Cries were heard that the dreaded invaders +had reached Oldtown Bridge, a little distance from the village, and that +they were killing all whom they encountered. Flight was resolved upon. +All the horses and vehicles in the town were put in requisition; men, +women, and children hurried as for life towards the north. Some threw +their silver and pewter ware and other valuables into wells. Large +numbers crossed the Merrimac, and spent the night in the deserted houses +of Salisbury, whose inhabitants, stricken by the strange terror, had fled +into New Hampshire, to take up their lodgings in dwellings also abandoned +by their owners. A few individuals refused to fly with the multitude; +some, unable to move by reason of sickness, were left behind by their +relatives. One old gentleman, whose excessive corpulence rendered +retreat on his part impossible, made a virtue of necessity; and, seating +himself in his doorway with his loaded king's arm, upbraided his more +nimble neighbors, advising them to do as he did, and "stop and shoot the +devils." Many ludicrous instances of the intensity of the terror might +be related. One man got his family into a boat to go to Ram Island for +safety. He imagined he was pursued by the enemy through the dusk of the +evening, and was annoyed by the crying of an infant in the after part of +the boat. "Do throw that squalling brat overboard," he called to his +wife, "or we shall be all discovered and killed!" A poor woman ran four +or five miles up the river, and stopped to take breath and nurse her +child, when she found to her great horror that she had brought off the +cat instead of the baby! + +All through that memorable night the terror swept onward towards the +north with a speed which seems almost miraculous, producing everywhere +the same results. At midnight a horseman, clad only in shirt and +breeches, dashed by our grandfather's door, in Haverhill, twenty miles up +the river. "Turn out! Get a musket! Turn out!" he shouted; "the +regulars are landing on Plum Island!" "I'm glad of it," responded the +old gentleman from his chamber window; "I wish they were all there, and +obliged to stay there." When it is understood that Plum Island is little +more than a naked sand-ridge, the benevolence of this wish can be readily +appreciated. + +All the boats on the river were constantly employed for several hours in +conveying across the terrified fugitives. Through "the dead waste and +middle of the night" they fled over the border into New Hampshire. Some +feared to take the frequented roads, and wandered over wooded hills and +through swamps where the snows of the late winter had scarcely melted. +They heard the tramp and outcry of those behind them, and fancied that +the sounds were made by pursuing enemies. Fast as they fled, the terror, +by some unaccountable means, outstripped them. They found houses +deserted and streets strewn with household stuffs, abandoned in the hurry +of escape. Towards morning, however, the tide partially turned. Grown +men began to feel ashamed of their fears. The old Anglo-Saxon hardihood +paused and looked the terror in its face. Single or in small parties, +armed with such weapons as they found at hand,--among which long poles, +sharpened and charred at the end, were conspicuous,--they began to +retrace their steps. In the mean time such of the good people of Ipswich +as were unable or unwilling to leave their homes became convinced that +the terrible rumor which had nearly depopulated their settlement was +unfounded. + +Among those who had there awaited the onslaught of the regulars was a +young man from Exeter, New Hampshire. Becoming satisfied that the whole +matter was a delusion, he mounted his horse and followed after the +retreating multitude, undeceiving all whom he overtook. Late at night +he reached Newburyport, greatly to the relief of its sleepless +inhabitants, and hurried across the river, proclaiming as he rode the +welcome tidings. The sun rose upon haggard and jaded fugitives, worn +with excitement and fatigue, slowly returning homeward, their +satisfaction at the absence of danger somewhat moderated by an unpleasant +consciousness of the ludicrous scenes of their premature night flitting. + +Any inference which might be drawn from the foregoing narrative +derogatory to the character of the people of New England at that day, on +the score of courage, would be essentially erroneous. It is true, they +were not the men to court danger or rashly throw away their lives for the +mere glory of the sacrifice. They had always a prudent and wholesome +regard to their own comfort and safety; they justly looked upon sound +heads and limbs as better than broken ones; life was to them too serious +and important, and their hard-gained property too valuable, to be lightly +hazarded. They never attempted to cheat themselves by under-estimating +the difficulty to be encountered, or shutting their eyes to its probable +consequences. Cautious, wary, schooled in the subtle strategy of Indian +warfare, where self-preservation is by no means a secondary object, they +had little in common with the reckless enthusiasm of their French allies, +or the stolid indifference of the fighting machines of the British +regular army. When danger could no longer be avoided, they met it with +firmness and iron endurance, but with a very vivid appreciation of its +magnitude. Indeed, it must be admitted by all who are familiar with the +history of our fathers that the element of fear held an important place +among their characteristics. It exaggerated all the dangers of their +earthly pilgrimage, and peopled the future with shapes of evil. Their +fear of Satan invested him with some of the attributes of Omnipotence, +and almost reached the point of reverence. The slightest shock of an +earthquake filled all hearts with terror. Stout men trembled by their +hearths with dread of some paralytic old woman supposed to be a witch. +And when they believed themselves called upon to grapple with these +terrors and endure the afflictions of their allotment, they brought to +the trial a capability of suffering undiminished by the chloroform of +modern philosophy. They were heroic in endurance. Panics like the one +we have described might bow and sway them like reeds in the wind; but +they stood up like the oaks of their own forests beneath the thunder and +the hail of actual calamity. + +It was certainly lucky for the good people of Essex County that no wicked +wag of a Tory undertook to immortalize in rhyme their ridiculous hegira, +as Judge Hopkinson did the famous Battle of the Kegs in Philadelphia. +Like the more recent Madawaska war in Maine, the great Chepatchet +demonstration in Rhode Island, and the "Sauk fuss" of Wisconsin, it +remains to this day "unsyllabled, unsung;" and the fast-fading memory of +age alone preserves the unwritten history of the great Ipswich fright. + + + + +POPE NIGHT. + + "Lay up the fagots neat and trim; + Pile 'em up higher; + Set 'em afire! + The Pope roasts us, and we 'll roast him!" + Old Song. + +The recent attempt of the Romish Church to reestablish its hierarchy in +Great Britain, with the new cardinal, Dr. Wiseman, at its head, seems to +have revived an old popular custom, a grim piece of Protestant sport, +which, since the days of Lord George Gordon and the "No Popery" mob, had +very generally fallen into disuse. On the 5th of the eleventh month of +this present year all England was traversed by processions and lighted up +with bonfires, in commemoration of the detection of the "gunpowder plot" +of Guy Fawkes and the Papists in 1605. Popes, bishops, and cardinals, in +straw and pasteboard, were paraded through the streets and burned amid +the shouts of the populace, a great portion of whom would have doubtless +been quite as ready to do the same pleasant little office for the Bishop +of Exeter or his Grace of Canterbury, if they could have carted about and +burned in effigy a Protestant hierarchy as safely as a Catholic one. + +In this country, where every sect takes its own way, undisturbed by legal +restrictions, each ecclesiastical tub balancing itself as it best may on +its own bottom, and where bishops Catholic and bishops Episcopal, bishops +Methodist and bishops Mormon, jostle each other in our thoroughfares, it +is not to be expected that we should trouble ourselves with the matter at +issue between the rival hierarchies on the other side of the water. It +is a very pretty quarrel, however, and good must come out of it, as it +cannot fail to attract popular attention to the shallowness of the +spiritual pretensions of both parties, and lead to the conclusion that a +hierarchy of any sort has very little in common with the fishermen and +tent-makers of the New Testament. + +Pope Night--the anniversary of the discovery of the Papal incendiary Guy +Fawkes, booted and spurred, ready to touch fire to his powder-train under +the Parliament House--was celebrated by the early settlers of New +England, and doubtless afforded a good deal of relief to the younger +plants of grace in the Puritan vineyard. In those solemn old days, the +recurrence of the powder-plot anniversary, with its processions, hideous +images of the Pope and Guy Fawkes, its liberal potations of strong +waters, and its blazing bonfires reddening the wild November hills, must +have been looked forward to with no slight degree of pleasure. For one +night, at least, the cramped and smothered fun and mischief of the +younger generation were permitted to revel in the wild extravagance +of a Roman saturnalia or the Christmas holidays of a slave plantation. +Bigotry--frowning upon the May-pole, with its flower wreaths and sportive +revellers, and counting the steps of the dancers as so many steps towards +perdition--recognized in the grim farce of Guy Fawkes's anniversary +something of its own lineaments, smiled complacently upon the riotous +young actors, and opened its close purse to furnish tar-barrels to roast +the Pope, and strong water to moisten the throats of his noisy judges and +executioners. + +Up to the time of the Revolution the powder plot was duly commemorated +throughout New England. At that period the celebration of it was +discountenanced, and in many places prohibited, on the ground that it was +insulting to our Catholic allies from France. In Coffin's History of +Newbury it is stated that, in 1774, the town authorities of Newburyport +ordered "that no effigies be carried about or exhibited only in the +daytime." The last public celebration in that town was in the following +year. Long before the close of the last century the exhibitions of Pope +Night had entirely ceased throughout the country, with, as far as we can +learn, a solitary exception. The stranger who chances to be travelling +on the road between Newburyport and Haverhill, on the night of the 5th of +November, may well fancy that an invasion is threatened from the sea, or +that an insurrection is going on inland; for from all the high hills +overlooking the river tall fires are seen blazing redly against the cold, +dark, autumnal sky, surrounded by groups of young men and boys busily +engaged in urging them with fresh fuel into intenser activity. To feed +these bonfires, everything combustible which could be begged or stolen +from the neighboring villages, farm-houses, and fences is put in +requisition. Old tar-tubs, purloined from the shipbuilders of the +river-side, and flour and lard barrels from the village-traders, are +stored away for days, and perhaps weeks, in the woods or in the rain- +gullies of the hills, in preparation for Pope Night. From the earliest +settlement of the towns of Amesbury and Salisbury, the night of the +powder plot has been thus celebrated, with unbroken regularity, down to +the present time. The event which it once commemorated is probably now +unknown to most of the juvenile actors. The symbol lives on from +generation to generation after the significance is lost; and we have seen +the children of our Catholic neighbors as busy as their Protestant +playmates in collecting, "by hook or by crook," the materials for Pope- +Night bonfires. We remember, on one occasion, walking out with a gifted +and learned Catholic friend to witness the fine effect of the +illumination on the hills, and his hearty appreciation of its picturesque +and wild beauty,--the busy groups in the strong relief of the fires, and +the play and corruscation of the changeful lights on the bare, brown +hills, naked trees, and autumn clouds. + +In addition to the bonfires on the hills, there was formerly a procession +in the streets, bearing grotesque images of the Pope, his cardinals and +friars; and behind them Satan himself, a monster with huge ox-horns on +his head, and a long tail, brandishing his pitchfork and goading them +onward. The Pope was generally furnished with a movable head, which +could be turned round, thrown back, or made to bow, like that of a china- +ware mandarin. An aged inhabitant of the neighborhood has furnished us +with some fragments of the songs sung on such occasions, probably the +same which our British ancestors trolled forth around their bonfires two +centuries ago:-- + + "The fifth of November, + As you well remember, + Was gunpowder treason and plot; + And where is the reason + That gunpowder treason + Should ever be forgot?" + + "When James the First the sceptre swayed, + This hellish powder plot was laid; + They placed the powder down below, + All for Old England's overthrow. + Lucky the man, and happy the day, + That caught Guy Fawkes in the middle of his play!" + + "Hark! our bell goes jink, jink, jink; + Pray, madam, pray, sir, give us something to drink; + Pray, madam, pray, sir, if you'll something give, + We'll burn the dog, and not let him live. + We'll burn the dog without his head, + And then you'll say the dog is dead." + + "Look here! from Rome The Pope has come, + That fiery serpent dire; + Here's the Pope that we have got, + The old promoter of the plot; + We'll stick a pitchfork in his back, + And throw him in the fire!" + +There is a slight savor of a Smithfield roasting about these lines, such +as regaled the senses of the Virgin Queen or Bloody Mary, which entirely +reconciles us to their disuse at the present time. + +It should be the fervent prayer of all good men that the evil spirit of +religious hatred and intolerance, which on the one hand prompted the +gunpowder plot, and which on the other has ever since made it the +occasion of reproach and persecution of an entire sect of professing +Christians, may be no longer perpetuated. In the matter of exclusiveness +and intolerance, none of the older sects can safely reproach each other; +and it becomes all to hope and labor for the coming of that day when the +hymns of Cowper and the Confessions of Augustine, the humane philosophy +of Channing and the devout meditations of Thomas a Kempis, the simple +essays of Woolman and the glowing periods of Bossuet, shall be regarded +as the offspring of one spirit and one faith,--lights of a common altar, +and precious stones in the temple of the one universal Church. + + + + +THE BOY CAPTIVES. AN INCIDENT OF THE INDIAN WAR OF 1695. + +The township of Haverhill, even as late as the close of the seventeenth +century, was a frontier settlement, occupying an advanced position in the +great wilderness, which, unbroken by the clearing of a white man, +extended from the Merrimac River to the French villages on the St. +Francois. A tract of twelve miles on the river and three or four +northwardly was occupied by scattered settlers, while in the centre of +the town a compact village had grown up. In the immediate vicinity there +were but few Indians, and these generally peaceful and inoffensive. On +the breaking out of the Narragansett war, the inhabitants had erected +fortifications and taken other measures for defence; but, with the +possible exception of one man who was found slain in the woods in 1676, +none of the inhabitants were molested; and it was not until about the +year 1689 that the safety of the settlement was seriously threatened. +Three persons were killed in that year. In 1690 six garrisons were +established in different parts of the town, with a small company of +soldiers attached to each. Two of these houses are still standing. They +were built of brick, two stories high, with a single outside door, so +small and narrow that but one person could enter at a time; the windows +few, and only about two and a half feet long by eighteen inches with +thick diamond glass secured with lead, and crossed inside with bars of +iron. The basement had but two rooms, and the chamber was entered by a +ladder instead of stairs; so that the inmates, if driven thither, could +cut off communication with the rooms below. Many private houses were +strengthened and fortified. We remember one familiar to our boyhood,-- +a venerable old building of wood, with brick between the weather boards +and ceiling, with a massive balustrade over the door, constructed of oak +timber and plank, with holes through the latter for firing upon +assailants. The door opened upon a stone-paved hall, or entry, leading +into the huge single room of the basement, which was lighted by two small +windows, the ceiling black with the smoke of a century and a half; a huge +fireplace, calculated for eight-feet wood, occupying one entire side; +while, overhead, suspended from the timbers, or on shelves fastened to +them, were household stores, farming utensils, fishing-rods, guns, +bunches of herbs gathered perhaps a century ago, strings of dried apples +and pumpkins, links of mottled sausages, spareribs, and flitches of +bacon; the firelight of an evening dimly revealing the checked woollen +coverlet of the bed in one far-off corner, while in another "the pewter +plates on the dresser Caught and reflected the flame as shields of armies +the sunshine." + +Tradition has preserved many incidents of life in the garrisons. In +times of unusual peril the settlers generally resorted at night to the +fortified houses, taking thither their flocks and herds and such +household valuables as were most likely to strike the fancy or minister +to the comfort or vanity of the heathen marauders. False alarms were +frequent. The smoke of a distant fire, the bark of a dog in the deep +woods, a stump or bush taking in the uncertain light of stars and moon +the appearance of a man, were sufficient to spread alarm through the +entire settlement, and to cause the armed men of the garrison to pass +whole nights in sleepless watching. It is said that at Haselton's +garrison-house the sentinel on duty saw, as he thought, an Indian inside +of the paling which surrounded the building, and apparently seeking to +gain an entrance. He promptly raised his musket and fired at the +intruder, alarming thereby the entire garrison. The women and children +left their beds, and the men seized their guns and commenced firing on +the suspicious object; but it seemed to bear a charmed life, and remained +unharmed. As the morning dawned, however, the mystery was solved by the +discovery of a black quilted petticoat hanging on the clothes-line, +completely riddled with balls. + +As a matter of course, under circumstances of perpetual alarm and +frequent peril, the duty of cultivating their fields, and gathering their +harvests, and working at their mechanical avocations was dangerous and +difficult to the settlers. One instance will serve as an illustration. +At the garrison-house of Thomas Dustin, the husband of the far-famed Mary +Dustin, (who, while a captive of the Indians, and maddened by the murder +of her infant child, killed and scalped, with the assistance of a young +boy, the entire band of her captors, ten in number,) the business of +brick-making was carried on. The pits where the clay was found were only +a few rods from the house; yet no man ventured to bring the clay to the +yard within the enclosure without the attendance of a file of soldiers. +An anecdote relating to this garrison has been handed down to the present +tune. Among its inmates were two young cousins, Joseph and Mary +Whittaker; the latter a merry, handsome girl, relieving the tedium of +garrison duty with her light-hearted mirthfulness, and + + "Making a sunshine in that shady place." + +Joseph, in the intervals of his labors in the double capacity of brick- +maker and man-at-arms, was assiduous in his attentions to his fair +cousin, who was not inclined to encourage him. Growing desperate, he +threatened one evening to throw himself into the garrison well. His +threat only called forth the laughter of his mistress; and, bidding her +farewell, he proceeded to put it in execution. On reaching the well he +stumbled over a log; whereupon, animated by a happy idea, he dropped the +wood into the water instead of himself, and, hiding behind the curb, +awaited the result. Mary, who had been listening at the door, and who +had not believed her lover capable of so rash an act, heard the sudden +plunge of the wooden Joseph. She ran to the well, and, leaning over the +curb and peering down the dark opening, cried out, in tones of anguish +and remorse, "O Joseph, if you're in the land of the living, I 'll have +you!" "I'll take ye at your word," answered Joseph, springing up from +his hiding-place, and avenging himself for her coyness and coldness by a +hearty embrace. + +Our own paternal ancestor, owing to religious scruples in the matter of +taking arms even for defence of life and property, refused to leave his +undefended house and enter the garrison. The Indians frequently came to +his house; and the family more than once in the night heard them +whispering under the windows, and saw them put their copper faces to the +glass to take a view of the apartments. Strange as it may seen, they +never offered any injury or insult to the inmates. + +In 1695 the township was many times molested by Indians, and several +persons were killed and wounded. Early in the fall a small party made +their appearance in the northerly part of the town, where, finding two +boys at work in an open field, they managed to surprise and capture them, +and, without committing further violence, retreated through the woods to +their homes on the shore of Lake Winnipesaukee. Isaac Bradley, aged +fifteen, was a small but active and vigorous boy; his companion in +captivity, Joseph Whittaker, was only eleven, yet quite as large in size, +and heavier in his movements. After a hard and painful journey they +arrived at the lake, and were placed in an Indian family, consisting of a +man and squaw and two or three children. Here they soon acquired a +sufficient knowledge of the Indian tongue to enable them to learn from +the conversation carried on in their presence that it was designed to +take them to Canada in the spring. This discovery was a painful one. +Canada, the land of Papist priests and bloody Indians, was the especial +terror of the New England settlers, and the anathema maranatha of Puritan +pulpits. Thither the Indians usually hurried their captives, where they +compelled them to work in their villages or sold them to the French +planters. Escape from thence through a deep wilderness, and across lakes +and mountains and almost impassable rivers, without food or guide, was +regarded as an impossibility. The poor boys, terrified by the prospect +of being carried still farther from their home and friends, began to +dream of escaping from their masters before they started for Canada. It +was now winter; it would have been little short of madness to have chosen +for flight that season of bitter cold and deep snows. Owing to exposure +and want of proper food and clothing, Isaac, the eldest of the boys, was +seized with a violent fever, from which he slowly recovered in the course +of the winter. His Indian mistress was as kind to him as her +circumstances permitted,--procuring medicinal herbs and roots for her +patient, and tenderly watching over him in the long winter nights. +Spring came at length; the snows melted; and the ice was broken up on the +lake. The Indians began to make preparations for journeying to Canada; +and Isaac, who had during his sickness devised a plan of escape, saw that +the time of putting it in execution had come. On the evening before he +was to make the attempt he for the first time informed his younger +companion of his design, and told him, if he intended to accompany him, +he must be awake at the time appointed. The boys lay down as usual in +the wigwam, in the midst of the family. Joseph soon fell asleep; but +Isaac, fully sensible of the danger and difficulty of the enterprise +before him, lay awake, watchful for his opportunity. About midnight he +rose, cautiously stepping over the sleeping forms of the family, and +securing, as he went, his Indian master's flint, steel, and tinder, and a +small quantity of dry moose-meat and cornbread. He then carefully +awakened his companion, who, starting up, forgetful of the cause of his +disturbance, asked aloud, "What do you want?" The savages began to stir; +and Isaac, trembling with fear of detection, lay down again and pretended +to be asleep. After waiting a while he again rose, satisfied, from the +heavy breathing of the Indians, that they were all sleeping; and fearing +to awaken Joseph a second time, lest he should again hazard all by his +thoughtlessness, he crept softly out of the wigwam. He had proceeded but +a few rods when he heard footsteps behind him; and, supposing himself +pursued, he hurried into the woods, casting a glance backward. What was +his joy to see his young companion running after him! They hastened on +in a southerly direction as nearly as they could determine, hoping to +reach their distant home. When daylight appeared they found a large +hollow log, into which they crept for concealment, wisely judging that +they would be hotly pursued by their Indian captors. + +Their sagacity was by no means at fault. The Indians, missing their +prisoners in the morning, started off in pursuit with their dogs. As the +young boys lay in the log they could hear the whistle of the Indians and +the barking of dogs upon their track. It was a trying moment; and even +the stout heart of the elder boy sank within him as the dogs came up to +the log and set up a loud bark of discovery. But his presence of mind +saved him. He spoke in a low tone to the dogs, who, recognizing his +familiar voice, wagged their tails with delight and ceased barking. He +then threw to them the morsel of moose-meat he had taken from the wigwam. +While the dogs were thus diverted the Indians made their appearance. The +boys heard the light, stealthy sound of their moccasins on the leaves. +They passed close to the log; and the dogs, having devoured their moose- +meat, trotted after their masters. Through a crevice in the log the boys +looked after them and saw them disappear in the thick woods. They +remained in their covert until night, when they started again on their +long journey, taking a new route to avoid the Indians. At daybreak they +again concealed themselves, but travelled the next night and day without +resting. By this time they had consumed all the bread which they had +taken, and were fainting from hunger and weariness. Just at the close of +the third day they were providentially enabled to kill a pigeon and a +small tortoise, a part of which they ate raw, not daring to make a fire, +which might attract the watchful eyes of savages. On the sixth day they +struck upon an old Indian path, and, following it until night, came +suddenly upon a camp of the enemy. Deep in the heart of the forest, +under the shelter of a ridge of land heavily timbered, a great fire of +logs and brushwood was burning; and around it the Indians sat, eating +their moose-meat and smoking their pipes. + +The poor fugitives, starving, weary, and chilled by the cold spring +blasts, gazed down upon the ample fire; and the savory meats which the +squaws were cooking by it, but felt no temptation to purchase warmth and +food by surrendering themselves to captivity. Death in the forest seemed +preferable. They turned and fled back upon their track, expecting every +moment to hear the yells of pursuers. The morning found them seated on +the bank of a small stream, their feet torn and bleeding, and their +bodies emaciated. The elder, as a last effort, made search for roots, +and fortunately discovered a few ground-nuts, (glicine apios) which +served to refresh in some degree himself and his still weaker companion. +As they stood together by the stream, hesitating and almost despairing, +it occurred to Isaac that the rivulet might lead to a larger stream of +water, and that to the sea and the white settlements near it; and he +resolved to follow it. They again began their painful march; the day +passed, and the night once more overtook them. When the eighth morning +dawned, the younger of the boys found himself unable to rise from his bed +of leaves. Isaac endeavored to encourage him, dug roots, and procured +water for him; but the poor lad was utterly exhausted. He had no longer +heart or hope. The elder boy laid him on leaves and dry grass at the +foot of a tree, and with a heavy heart bade him farewell. Alone he +slowly and painfully proceeded down the stream, now greatly increased in +size by tributary rivulets. On the top of a hill, he climbed with +difficulty into a tree, and saw in the distance what seemed to be a +clearing and a newly raised frame building. Hopeful and rejoicing, he +turned back to his young companion, told him what he had seen, and, after +chafing his limbs awhile, got him upon his feet. Sometimes supporting +him, and at others carrying him on his back, the heroic boy staggered +towards the clearing. On reaching it he found it deserted, and was +obliged to continue his journey. Towards night signs of civilization +began to appear,--the heavy, continuous roar of water was heard; and, +presently emerging from the forest, he saw a great river dashing in white +foam down precipitous rocks, and on its bank the gray walls of a huge +stone building, with flankers, palisades, and moat, over which the +British flag was flying. This was the famous Saco Fort, built by +Governor Phips two years before, just below the falls of the Saco River. +The soldiers of the garrison gave the poor fellows a kindly welcome. +Joseph, who was scarcely alive, lay for a long time sick in the fort; but +Isaac soon regained his strength, and set out for his home in Haverhill, +which he had the good fortune to arrive at in safety. + +Amidst the stirring excitements of the present day, when every thrill of +the electric wire conveys a new subject for thought or action to a +generation as eager as the ancient Athenians for some new thing, simple +legends of the past like that which we have transcribed have undoubtedly +lost in a great degree their interest. The lore of the fireside is +becoming obsolete, and with the octogenarian few who still linger among +us will perish the unwritten history of border life in New England. + + + + +THE BLACK MEN IN THE REVOLUTION AND WAR OF 1812. + +The return of the festival of our national independence has called our +attention to a matter which has been very carefully kept out of sight by +orators and toast-drinkers. We allude to the participation of colored +men in the great struggle for American freedom. It is not in accordance +with our taste or our principles to eulogize the shedders of blood even +in a cause of acknowledged justice; but when we see a whole nation doing +honor to the memories of one class of its defenders to the total neglect +of another class, who had the misfortune to be of darker complexion, we +cannot forego the satisfaction of inviting notice to certain historical +facts which for the last half century have been quietly elbowed aside, +as no more deserving of a place in patriotic recollection than the +descendants of the men to whom the facts in question relate have to a +place in a Fourth of July procession. + +Of the services and sufferings of the colored soldiers of the Revolution +no attempt has, to our knowledge, been made to preserve a record. They +have had no historian. With here and there an exception, they have all +passed away; and only some faint tradition of their campaigns under +Washington and Greene and Lafayette, and of their cruisings under Decatur +and Barry, lingers among their, descendants. Yet enough is known to show +that the free colored men of the United States bore their full proportion +of the sacrifices and trials of the Revolutionary War. + +The late Governor Eustis, of Massachusetts,--the pride and boast of the +democracy of the East, himself an active participant in the war, and +therefore a most competent witness,--Governor Morrill, of New Hampshire, +Judge Hemphill, of Pennsylvania, and other members of Congress, in the +debate on the question of admitting Missouri as a slave State into the +Union, bore emphatic testimony to the efficiency and heroism of the black +troops. Hon. Calvin Goddard, of Connecticut, states that in the little +circle of his residence he was instrumental in securing, under the act of +1818, the pensions of nineteen colored soldiers. "I cannot," he says, +"refrain from mentioning one aged black man, Primus Babcock, who proudly +presented to me an honorable discharge from service during the war, dated +at the close of it, wholly in the handwriting of George Washington; nor +can I forget the expression of his feelings when informed, after his +discharge had been sent to the War Department, that it could not be +returned. At his request it was written for, as he seemed inclined to +spurn the pension and reclaim the discharge." There is a touching +anecdote related of Baron Stenben on the occasion of the disbandment of +the American army. A black soldier, with his wounds unhealed, utterly +destitute, stood on the wharf just as a vessel bound for his distant home +was getting under way. The poor fellow gazed at the vessel with tears in +his eyes, and gave himself up to despair. The warm-hearted foreigner +witnessed his emotion, and, inquiring into the cause of it, took his last +dollar from his purse and gave it to him, with tears of sympathy +trickling down his cheeks. Overwhelmed with gratitude, the poor wounded +soldier hailed the sloop and was received on board. As it moved out from +the wharf, he cried back to his noble friend on shore, "God Almighty +bless you, Master Baron!" + +"In Rhode Island," says Governor Eustis in his able speech against +slavery in Missouri, 12th of twelfth month, 1820, "the blacks formed an +entire regiment, and they discharged their duty with zeal and fidelity. +The gallant defence of Red Bank, in which the black regiment bore a part, +is among the proofs of their valor." In this contest it will be +recollected that four hundred men met and repulsed, after a terrible and +sanguinary struggle, fifteen hundred Hessian troops, headed by Count +Donop. The glory of the defence of Red Bank, which has been pronounced +one of the most heroic actions of the war, belongs in reality to black +men; yet who now hears them spoken of in connection with it? Among the +traits which distinguished the black regiment was devotion to their +officers. In the attack made upon the American lines near Croton River +on the 13th of the fifth month, 1781, Colonel Greene, the commander of +the regiment, was cut down and mortally wounded; but the sabres of the +enemy only reached him through the bodies of his faithful guard of +blacks, who hovered over him to protect him, every one of whom was +killed. The late Dr. Harris, of Dunbarton, New Hampshire, a +Revolutionary veteran, stated, in a speech at Francistown, New Hampshire, +some years ago, that on one occasion the regiment to which he was +attached was commanded to defend an important position, which the enemy +thrice assailed, and from which they were as often repulsed. "There +was," said the venerable speaker, "a regiment of blacks in the same +situation,--a regiment of negroes fighting for our liberty and +independence, not a white man among them but the officers,--in the same +dangerous and responsible position. Had they been unfaithful or given +way before the enemy, all would have been lost. Three times in +succession were they attacked with most desperate fury by well- +disciplined and veteran troops; and three times did they successfully +repel the assault, and thus preserve an army. They fought thus through +the war. They were brave and hardy troops." + +In the debate in the New York Convention of 1821 for amending the +Constitution of the State, on the question of extending the right of +suffrage to the blacks, Dr. Clarke, the delegate from Delaware County, +and other members, made honorable mention of the services of the colored +troops in the Revolutionary army. + +The late James Forten, of Philadelphia, well known as a colored man of +wealth, intelligence, and philanthropy, enlisted in the American navy +under Captain Decatur, of the Royal Louis, was taken prisoner during his +second cruise, and, with nineteen other colored men, confined on board +the horrible Jersey prison-ship; All the vessels in the American service +at that period were partly manned by blacks. The old citizens of +Philadelphia to this day remember the fact that, when the troops of the +North marched through the city, one or more colored companies were +attached to nearly all the regiments. + +Governor Eustis, in the speech before quoted, states that the free +colored soldiers entered the ranks with the whites. The time of those +who were slaves was purchased of their masters, and they were induced to +enter the service in consequence of a law of Congress by which, on +condition of their serving in the ranks during the war, they were made +freemen. This hope of liberty inspired them with courage to oppose their +breasts to the Hessian bayonet at Red Bank, and enabled them to endure +with fortitude the cold and famine of Valley Forge. The anecdote of the +slave of General Sullivan, of New Hampshire, is well known. When his +master told him that they were on the point of starting for the army, to +fight for liberty, he shrewdly suggested that it would be a great +satisfaction to know that he was indeed going to fight for his liberty. +Struck with the reasonableness and justice of this suggestion, General +Sullivan at once gave him his freedom. + +The late Tristam Burgess, of Rhode Island, in a speech in Congress, first +month, 1828, said "At the commencement of the Revolutionary War, Rhode +Island had a number of slaves. A regiment of them were enlisted into the +Continental service, and no braver men met the enemy in battle; but not +one of them was permitted to be a soldier until he had first been made a +freeman." + +The celebrated Charles Pinckney, of South Carolina, in his speech on the +Missouri question, and in defence of the slave representation of the +South, made the following admissions:-- + +"They (the colored people) were in numerous instances the pioneers, and +in all the laborers, of our armies. To their hands were owing the +greatest part of the fortifications raised for the protection of the +country. Fort Moultrie gave, at an early period of the inexperienced and +untried valor of our citizens, immortality to the American arms; and in +the Northern States numerous bodies of them were enrolled, and fought +side by side with the whites at the battles of the Revolution." + +Let us now look forward thirty or forty years, to the last war with Great +Britain, and see whether the whites enjoyed a monopoly of patriotism at +that time. + +Martindale, of New York, in Congress, 22d of first month, 1828, said: +"Slaves, or negroes who had been slaves, were enlisted as soldiers in the +war of the Revolution; and I myself saw a battalion of them, as fine, +martial-looking men as I ever saw, attached to the Northern army in the +last war, on its march from Plattsburg to Sackett's Harbor." + +Hon. Charles Miner, of Pennsylvania, in Congress, second month, 7th, +1828, said: "The African race make excellent soldiers. Large numbers of +them were with Perry, and helped to gain the brilliant victory of Lake +Erie. A whole battalion of them were distinguished for their orderly +appearance." + +Dr. Clarke, in the convention which revised the Constitution of New York +in 1821, speaking of the colored inhabitants of the State, said:-- + +"In your late war they contributed largely towards some of your most +splendid victories. On Lakes Erie and Champlain, where your fleets +triumphed over a foe superior in numbers and engines of death, they were +manned in a large proportion with men of color. And in this very house, +in the fall of 1814, a bill passed, receiving the approbation of all the +branches of your government, authorizing the governor to accept the +services of a corps of two thousand free people of color. Sir, these +were times which tried men's souls. In these times it was no sporting +matter to bear arms. These were times when a man who shouldered his +musket did not know but he bared his bosom to receive a death-wound from +the enemy ere he laid it aside; and in these times these people were +found as ready and as willing to volunteer in your service as any other. +They were not compelled to go; they were not drafted. No; your pride had +placed them beyond your compulsory power. But there was no necessity for +its exercise; they were volunteers,--yes, sir, volunteers to defend that +very country from the inroads and ravages of a ruthless and vindictive +foe which had treated them with insult, degradation, and slavery." + +On the capture of Washington by the British forces, it was judged +expedient to fortify, without delay, the principal towns and cities +exposed to similar attacks. The Vigilance Committee of Philadelphia +waited upon three of the principal colored citizens, namely, James +Forten, Bishop Allen, and Absalom Jones, soliciting the aid of the people +of color in erecting suitable defences for the city. Accordingly, +twenty-five hundred colored then assembled in the State-House yard, and +from thence marched to Gray's Ferry, where they labored for two days +almost without intermission. Their labors were so faithful and efficient +that a vote of thanks was tendered them by the committee. A battalion of +colored troops was at the same time organized in the city under an +officer of the United States army; and they were on the point of marching +to the frontier when peace was proclaimed. + +General Jackson's proclamations to the free colored inhabitants of +Louisiana are well known. In his first, inviting them to take up arms, +he said:-- + +"As sons of freedom, you are now called on to defend our most inestimable +blessings. As Americans, your country looks with confidence to her +adopted children for a valorous support. As fathers, husbands, and +brothers, you are summoned to rally round the standard of the eagle, to +defend all which is dear in existence." + +The second proclamation is one of the highest compliments ever paid by a +military chief to his soldiers:-- + +"TO THE FREE PEOPLE OF COLOR. + +"Soldiers! when on the banks of the Mobile I called you to take up arms, +inviting you to partake the perils and glory of your white fellow- +citizens, I expected much from you; for I was not ignorant that you +possessed qualities most formidable to an invading enemy. I knew with +what fortitude you could endure hunger, and thirst, and all the fatigues +of a campaign. I knew well how you loved your native country, and that +you, as well as ourselves, had to defend what man holds most dear,--his +parents, wife, children, and property. You have done more than I +expected. In addition to the previous qualities I before knew you to +possess, I found among you a noble enthusiasm, which leads to the +performance of great things. + +"Soldiers! the President of the United States shall hear how praiseworthy +was your conduct in the hour of danger, and the Representatives of the +American people will give you the praise your exploits entitle you to. +Your general anticipates them in applauding your noble ardor." + +It will thus be seen that whatever honor belongs to the "heroes of the +Revolution" and the volunteers in "the second war for independence" is to +be divided between the white and the colored man. We have dwelt upon +this subject at length, not because it accords with our principles or +feelings, for it is scarcely necessary for us to say that we are one of +those who hold that + + "Peace hath her victories + No less renowned than war," + +and certainly far more desirable and useful; but because, in popular +estimation, the patriotism which dares and does on the battle-field takes +a higher place than the quiet exercise of the duties of peaceful +citizenship; and we are willing that colored soldiers, with their +descendants, should have the benefit, if possible, of a public sentiment +which has so extravagantly lauded their white companions in arms. If +pulpits must be desecrated by eulogies of the patriotism of bloodshed, we +see no reason why black defenders of their country in the war for liberty +should not receive honorable mention as well as white invaders of a +neighboring republic who have volunteered in a war for plunder and +slavery extension. For the latter class of "heroes" we have very little +respect. The patriotism of too many of them forcibly reminds us of Dr. +Johnson's definition of that much-abused term "Patriotism, sir! 'T is +the last refuge of a scoundrel." + +"What right, I demand," said an American orator some years ago, "have the +children of Africa to a homestead in the white man's country?" The +answer will in part be found in the facts which we have presented. Their +right, like that of their white fellow-citizens, dates back to the dread +arbitrament of battle. Their bones whiten every stricken field of the +Revolution; their feet tracked with blood the snows of Jersey; their toil +built up every fortification south of the Potomac; they shared the famine +and nakedness of Valley Forge and the pestilential horrors of the old +Jersey prisonship. Have they, then, no claim to an equal participation +in the blessings which have grown out of the national independence for +which they fought? Is it just, is it magnanimous, is it safe, even, to +starve the patriotism of such a people, to cast their hearts out of the +treasury of the Republic, and to convert them, by political +disfranchisement and social oppression, into enemies? + + + + +THE SCOTTISH REFORMERS. + + "The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small; + Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He + all." + FRIEDRICH VON LOGAU. + +The great impulse of the French Revolution was not confined by +geographical boundaries. Flashing hope into the dark places of the +earth, far down among the poor and long oppressed, or startling the +oppressor in his guarded chambers like that mountain of fire which fell +into the sea at the sound of the apocalyptic trumpet, it agitated the +world. + +The arguments of Condorcet, the battle-words of Mirabeau, the fierce zeal +of St. Just, the iron energy of Danton, the caustic wit of Camille +Desmoulins, and the sweet eloquence of Vergniaud found echoes in all +lands, and nowhere more readily than in Great Britain, the ancient foe +and rival of France. The celebrated Dr. Price, of London, and the still +more distinguished Priestley, of Birmingham, spoke out boldly in defence +of the great principles of the Revolution. A London club of reformers, +reckoning among its members such men as Sir William Jones, Earl Grey, +Samuel Whitbread, and Sir James Mackintosh, was established for the +purpose of disseminating liberal appeals and arguments throughout the +United Kingdom. + +In Scotland an auxiliary society was formed, under the name of Friends of +the People. Thomas Muir, young in years, yet an elder in the Scottish +kirk, a successful advocate at the bar, talented, affable, eloquent, and +distinguished for the purity of his life and his enthusiasm in the cause +of freedom, was its principal originator. In the twelfth month of 1792 a +convention of reformers was held at Edinburgh. The government became +alarmed, and a warrant was issued for the arrest of Muir. He escaped to +France; but soon after, venturing to return to his native land, was +recognized and imprisoned. He was tried upon the charge of lending books +of republican tendency, and reading an address from Theobald Wolfe Tone +and the United Irishmen before the society of which he was a member. He +defended himself in a long and eloquent address, which concluded in the +following manly strain:-- + +"What, then, has been my crime? Not the lending to a relation a copy of +Thomas Paine's works,--not the giving away to another a few numbers of an +innocent and constitutional publication; but my crime is, for having +dared to be, according to the measure of my feeble abilities, a strenuous +and an active advocate for an equal representation of the people in the +House of the people,--for having dared to accomplish a measure by legal +means which was to diminish the weight of their taxes and to put an end +to the profusion of their blood. Gentlemen, from my infancy to this +moment I have devoted myself to the cause of the people. It is a good +cause: it will ultimately prevail,--it will finally triumph." + +He was sentenced to transportation for fourteen years, and was removed to +the Edinburgh jail, from thence to the hulks, and lastly to the +transport-ship, containing eighty-three convicts, which conveyed him to +Botany Bay. + +The next victim was Palmer, a learned and highly accomplished Unitarian +minister in Dundee. He was greatly beloved and respected as a polished +gentleman and sincere friend of the people. He was charged with +circulating a republican tract, and was sentenced to seven years' +transportation. + +But the Friends of the People were not quelled by this summary punishment +of two of their devoted leaders. In the tenth month, 1793, delegates +were called together from various towns in Scotland, as well as from +Birmingham, Sheffield, and other places in England. Gerrald and Margarot +were sent up by the London society. After a brief sitting, the +convention was dispersed by the public authorities. Its sessions were +opened and closed with prayer, and the speeches of its members manifested +the pious enthusiasm of the old Cameronians and Parliament-men of the +times of Cromwell. Many of the dissenting clergy were present. William +Skirving, the most determined of the band, had been educated for the +ministry, and was a sincerely religious man. Joseph Gerrald was a young +man of brilliant talents and exemplary character. When the sheriff +entered the hall to disperse the friends of liberty, Gerrald knelt in +prayer. His remarkable words were taken down by a reporter on the spot. +There is nothing in modern history to compare with this supplication, +unless it be that of Sir Henry Vane, a kindred martyr, at the foot of the +scaffold, just before his execution. It is the prayer of universal +humanity, which God will yet hear and answer. + +"O thou Governor of the universe, we rejoice that, at all times and in +all circumstances, we have liberty to approach Thy throne, and that we +are assured that no sacrifice is more acceptable to Thee than that which +is made for the relief of the oppressed. In this moment of trial and +persecution we pray that Thou wouldst be our defender, our counsellor, +and our guide. Oh, be Thou a pillar of fire to us, as Thou wast to our +fathers of old, to enlighten and direct us; and to our enemies a pillar +of cloud, and darkness, and confusion. + +"Thou art Thyself the great Patron of liberty. Thy service is perfect +freedom. Prosper, we beseech Thee, every endeavor which we make to +promote Thy cause; for we consider the cause of truth, or every cause +which tends to promote the happiness of Thy creatures, as Thy cause. + +"O thou merciful Father of mankind, enable us, for Thy name's sake, to +endure persecution with fortitude; and may we believe that all trials and +tribulations of life which we endure shall work together for good to them +that love Thee; and grant that the greater the evil, and the longer it +may be continued, the greater good, in Thy holy and adorable providence, +may be produced therefrom. And this we beg, not for our own merits, but +through the merits of Him who is hereafter to judge the world in +righteousness and mercy." + +He ceased, and the sheriff, who had been temporarily overawed by the +extraordinary scene, enforced the warrant, and the meeting was broken up. +The delegates descended to the street in silence,--Arthur's Seat and +Salisbury Crags glooming in the distance and night,--an immense and +agitated multitude waiting around, over which tossed the flaring +flambeaux of the sheriff's train. Gerrald, who was already under arrest, +as he descended, spoke aloud, "Behold the funeral torches of Liberty!" + +Skirving and several others were immediately arrested. They were tried +in the first month, 1794, and sentenced, as Muir and Palmer had +previously been, to transportation. Their conduct throughout was worthy +of their great and holy cause. Gerrald's defence was that of freedom +rather than his own. Forgetting himself, he spoke out manfully and +earnestly for the poor, the oppressed, the overtaxed, and starving +millions of his countrymen. That some idea may be formed of this noble +plea for liberty, I give an extract from the concluding paragraphs:-- + +"True religion, like all free governments, appeals to the understanding +for its support, and not to the sword. All systems, whether civil or +moral, can only be durable in proportion as they are founded on truth and +calculated to promote the good of mankind. This will account to us why +governments suited to the great energies of man have always outlived the +perishable things which despotism has erected. Yes, this will account to +us why the stream of Time, which is continually washing away the +dissoluble fabrics of superstitions and impostures, passes without injury +by the adamant of Christianity. + +"Those who are versed in the history of their country, in the history of +the human race, must know that rigorous state prosecutions have always +preceded the era of convulsion; and this era, I fear, will be accelerated +by the folly and madness of our rulers. If the people are discontented, +the proper mode of quieting their discontent is, not by instituting +rigorous and sanguinary prosecutions, but by redressing their wrongs and +conciliating their affections. Courts of justice, indeed, may be called +in to the aid of ministerial vengeance; but if once the purity of their +proceedings is suspected, they will cease to be objects of reverence to +the nation; they will degenerate into empty and expensive pageantry, and +become the partial instruments of vexatious oppression. Whatever may +become of me, my principles will last forever. Individuals may perish; +but truth is eternal. The rude blasts of tyranny may blow from every +quarter; but freedom is that hardy plant which will survive the tempest +and strike an everlasting root into the most unfavorable soil. + +"Gentlemen, I am in your hands. About my life I feel not the slightest +anxiety: if it would promote the cause, I would cheerfully make the +sacrifice; for if I perish on an occasion like the present, out of my +ashes will arise a flame to consume the tyrants and oppressors of my +country." + +Years have passed, and the generation which knew the persecuted reformers +has given place to another. And now, half a century after William +Skirving, as he rose to receive his sentence, declared to his judges, +"You may condemn us as felons, but your sentence shall yet be reversed by +the people," the names of these men are once more familiar to British +lips. The sentence has been reversed; the prophecy of Skirving has +become history. On the 21st of the eighth month, 1853, the corner-stone +of a monument to the memory of the Scottish martyrs--for which +subscriptions had been received from such men as Lord Holland, the Dukes +of Bedford and Norfolk; and the Earls of Essex and Leicester--was laid +with imposing ceremonies in the beautiful burial-place of Calton Hill, +Edinburgh, by the veteran reformer and tribune of the people, Joseph +Hume, M. P. After delivering an appropriate address, the aged radical +closed the impressive scene by reading the prayer of Joseph Gerrald. At +the banquet which afterwards took place, and which was presided over by +John Dunlop, Esq., addresses were made by the president and Dr. Ritchie, +and by William Skirving, of Kirkaldy, son of the martyr. The Complete +Suffrage Association of Edinburgh, to the number of five hundred, walked +in procession to Calton Hill, and in the open air proclaimed unmolested +the very principles for which the martyrs of the past century had +suffered. + +The account of this tribute to the memory of departed worth cannot fail +to awaken in generous hearts emotions of gratitude towards Him who has +thus signally vindicated His truth, showing that the triumph of the +oppressor is but for a season, and that even in this world a lie cannot +live forever. Well and truly did George Fox say in his last days, + + "The truth is above all." + +Will it be said, however, that this tribute comes too late; that it +cannot solace those brave hearts which, slowly broken by the long agony +of colonial servitude, are now cold in strange graves? It is, indeed, a +striking illustration of the truth that he who would benefit his fellow- +man must "walk by faith," sowing his seed in the morning, and in the +evening withholding not his hand; knowing only this, that in God's good +time the harvest shall spring up and ripen, if not for himself, yet for +others, who, as they bind the full sheaves and gather in the heavy +clusters, may perchance remember him with gratitude and set up stones of +memorial on the fields of his toil and sacrifices. We may regret that in +this stage of the spirit's life the sincere and self-denying worker is +not always permitted to partake of the fruits of his toil or receive the +honors of a benefactor. We hear his good evil spoken of, and his noblest +sacrifices counted as naught; we see him not only assailed by the wicked, +but discountenanced and shunned by the timidly good, followed on his hot +and dusty pathway by the execrations of the hounding mob and the +contemptuous pity of the worldly wise and prudent; and when at last the +horizon of Time shuts down between him and ourselves, and the places +which have known him know him no more forever, we are almost ready to say +with the regal voluptuary of old, This also is vanity and a great evil; +"for what hath a man of all his labor and of the vexation of his heart +wherein he hath labored under the sun?" But is this the end? Has God's +universe no wider limits than the circle of the blue wall which shuts in +our nestling-place? Has life's infancy only been provided for, and +beyond this poor nursery-chamber of Time is there no playground for the +soul's youth, no broad fields for its manhood? Perchance, could we but +lift the curtains of the narrow pinfold wherein we dwell, we might see +that our poor friend and brother whose fate we have thus deplored has by +no means lost the reward of his labors, but that in new fields of duty he +is cheered even by the tardy recognition of the value of his services in +the old. The continuity of life is never broken; the river flows onward +and is lost to our sight, but under its new horizon it carries the same +waters which it gathered under ours, and its unseen valleys are made glad +by the offerings which are borne down to them from the past,--flowers, +perchance, the germs of which its own waves had planted on the banks of +Time. Who shall say that the mournful and repentant love with which the +benefactors of our race are at length regarded may not be to them, in +their new condition of being, sweet and grateful as the perfume of long- +forgotten flowers, or that our harvest-hymns of rejoicing may not reach +the ears of those who in weakness and suffering scattered the seeds of +blessing? + +The history of the Edinburgh reformers is no new one; it is that of all +who seek to benefit their age by rebuking its popular crimes and exposing +its cherished errors. The truths which they told were not believed, and +for that very reason were the more needed; for it is evermore the case +that the right word when first uttered is an unpopular and denied one. +Hence he who undertakes to tread the thorny pathway of reform--who, +smitten with the love of truth and justice, or indignant in view of wrong +and insolent oppression, is rashly inclined to throw himself at once into +that great conflict which the Persian seer not untruly represented as a +war between light and darkness--would do well to count the cost in the +outset. If he can live for Truth alone, and, cut off from the general +sympathy, regard her service as its "own exceeding great reward;" if he +can bear to be counted a fanatic and crazy visionary; if, in all good +nature, he is ready to receive from the very objects of his solicitude +abuse and obloquy in return for disinterested and self-sacrificing +efforts for their welfare; if, with his purest motives misunderstood and +his best actions perverted and distorted into crimes, he can still hold +on his way and patiently abide the hour when "the whirligig of Time shall +bring about its revenges;" if, on the whole, he is prepared to be looked +upon as a sort of moral outlaw or social heretic, under good society's +interdict of food and fire; and if he is well assured that he can, +through all this, preserve his cheerfulness and faith in man,--let him +gird up his loins and go forward in God's name. He is fitted for his +vocation; he has watched all night by his armor. Whatever his trial may +be, he is prepared; he may even be happily disappointed in respect to it; +flowers of unexpected refreshing may overhang the hedges of his strait +and narrow way; but it remains to be true that he who serves his +contemporaries in faithfulness and sincerity must expect no wages from +their gratitude; for, as has been well said, there is, after all, but one +way of doing the world good, and unhappily that way the world does not +like; for it consists in telling it the very thing which it does not wish +to hear. + +Unhappily, in the case of the reformer, his most dangerous foes are those +of his own household. True, the world's garden has become a desert and +needs renovation; but is his own little nook weedless? Sin abounds +without; but is his own heart pure? While smiting down the giants and +dragons which beset the outward world, are there no evil guests sitting +by his own hearth-stone? Ambition, envy, self-righteousness, impatience, +dogmatism, and pride of opinion stand at his door-way ready to enter +whenever he leaves it unguarded. Then, too, there is no small danger of +failing to discriminate between a rational philanthropy, with its +adaptation of means to ends, and that spiritual knight-errantry which +undertakes the championship of every novel project of reform, scouring +the world in search of distressed schemes held in durance by common sense +and vagaries happily spellbound by ridicule. He must learn that, +although the most needful truth may be unpopular, it does not follow that +unpopularity is a proof of the truth of his doctrines or the expediency +of his measures. He must have the liberality to admit that it is barely +possible for the public on some points to be right and himself wrong, and +that the blessing invoked upon those who suffer for righteousness is not +available to such as court persecution and invite contempt; for folly has +its martyrs as well as wisdom; and he who has nothing better to show of +himself than the scars and bruises which the popular foot has left upon +him is not even sure of winning the honors of martyrdom as some +compensation for the loss of dignity and self-respect involved in the +exhibition of its pains. To the reformer, in an especial manner, comes +home the truth that whoso ruleth his own spirit is greater than he who +taketh a city. Patience, hope, charity, watchfulness unto prayer,--how +needful are all these to his success! Without them he is in danger of +ingloriously giving up his contest with error and prejudice at the first +repulse; or, with that spiteful philanthropy which we sometimes witness, +taking a sick world by the nose, like a spoiled child, and endeavoring to +force down its throat the long-rejected nostrums prepared for its relief. + +What then? Shall we, in view of these things, call back young, generous +spirits just entering upon the perilous pathway? God forbid! Welcome, +thrice welcome, rather. Let them go forward, not unwarned of the dangers +nor unreminded of the pleasures which belong to the service of humanity. +Great is the consciousness of right. Sweet is the answer of a good +conscience. He who pays his whole-hearted homage to truth and duty, who +swears his lifelong fealty on their altars, and rises up a Nazarite +consecrated to their holy service, is not without his solace and +enjoyment when, to the eyes of others, he seems the most lonely and +miserable. He breathes an atmosphere which the multitude know not of; +"a serene heaven which they cannot discern rests over him, glorious in +its purity and stillness." Nor is he altogether without kindly human +sympathies. All generous and earnest hearts which are brought in contact +with his own beat evenly with it. All that is good, and truthful, and +lovely in man, whenever and wherever it truly recognizes him, must sooner +or later acknowledge his claim to love and reverence. His faith +overcomes all things. The future unrolls itself before him, with its +waving harvest-fields springing up from the seed he is scattering; and he +looks forward to the close of life with the calm confidence of one who +feels that he has not lived idle and useless, but with hopeful heart and +strong arm has labored with God and Nature for the best. + +And not in vain. In the economy of God, no effort, however small, put +forth for the right cause, fails of its effect. No voice, however +feeble, lifted up for truth, ever dies amidst the confused noises of +time. Through discords of sin and sorrow, pain and wrong, it rises a +deathless melody, whose notes of wailing are hereafter to be changed to +those of triumph as they blend with the great harmony of a reconciled +universe. The language of a transatlantic reformer to his friends is +then as true as it is hopeful and cheering: "Triumph is certain. We have +espoused no losing cause. In the body we may not join our shout with the +victors; but in spirit we may even now. There is but an interval of time +between us and the success at which we aim. In all other respects the +links of the chain are complete. Identifying ourselves with immortal and +immutable principles, we share both their immortality and immutability. +The vow which unites us with truth makes futurity present with us. Our +being resolves itself into an everlasting now. It is not so correct to +say that we shall be victorious as that we are so. When we will in +unison with the supreme Mind, the characteristics of His will become, in +some sort, those of ours. What He has willed is virtually done. It may +take ages to unfold itself; but the germ of its whole history is wrapped +up in His determination. When we make His will ours, which we do when we +aim at truth, that upon which we are resolved is done, decided, born. +Life is in it. It is; and the future is but the development of its +being. Ours, therefore, is a perpetual triumph. Our deeds are, all of +them, component elements of success." (Miall's Essays; Nonconformist, +Vol. iv.) + + + + +THE PILGRIMS OF PLYMOUTH. + +From a letter on the celebration of the 250th anniversary of the landing +of the Pilgrims at Plymouth, December 22, 1870. + +No one can appreciate more highly than myself the noble qualities of the +men and women of the Mayflower. It is not of them that I, a descendant +of the "sect called Quakers," have reason to complain in the matter of +persecution. A generation which came after them, with less piety and +more bigotry, is especially responsible for the little unpleasantness +referred to; and the sufferers from it scarcely need any present +championship. They certainly did not wait altogether for the revenges of +posterity. If they lost their ears, it is satisfactory to remember that +they made those of their mutilators tingle with a rhetoric more sharp +than polite. + +A worthy New England deacon once described a brother in the church as a +very good man Godward, but rather hard man-ward. It cannot be denied +that some very satisfactory steps have been taken in the latter +direction, at least, since the days of the Pilgrims. Our age is tolerant +of creed and dogma, broader in its sympathies, more keenly sensitive to +temporal need, and, practically recognizing the brotherhood of the race, +wherever a cry of suffering is heard its response is quick and generous. +It has abolished slavery, and is lifting woman from world-old degradation +to equality with man before the law. Our criminal codes no longer embody +the maxim of barbarism, "an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth," but +have regard not only for the safety of the community, but to the reform +and well-being of the criminal. All the more, however, for this amiable +tenderness do we need the counterpoise of a strong sense of justice. +With our sympathy for the wrong-doer we need the old Puritan and Quaker +hatred of wrongdoing; with our just tolerance of men and opinions a +righteous abhorrence of sin. All the more for the sweet humanities and +Christian liberalism which, in drawing men nearer to each other, are +increasing the sum of social influences for good or evil, we need the +bracing atmosphere, healthful, if austere, of the old moralities. +Individual and social duties are quite as imperative now as when they +were minutely specified in statute-books and enforced by penalties no +longer admissible. It is well that stocks, whipping-post, and ducking- +stool are now only matters of tradition; but the honest reprobation of +vice and crime which they symbolized should by no means perish with them. +The true life of a nation is in its personal morality, and no excellence +of constitution and laws can avail much if the people lack purity and +integrity. Culture, art, refinement, care for our own comfort and that +of others, are all well, but truth, honor, reverence, and fidelity to +duty are indispensable. + +The Pilgrims were right in affirming the paramount authority of the law +of God. If they erred in seeking that authoritative law, and passed over +the Sermon on the Mount for the stern Hebraisms of Moses; if they +hesitated in view of the largeness of Christian liberty; if they seemed +unwilling to accept the sweetness and light of the good tidings, let us +not forget that it was the mistake of men who feared more than they dared +to hope, whose estimate of the exceeding awfulness of sin caused them to +dwell upon God's vengeance rather than his compassion; and whose dread of +evil was so great that, in shutting their hearts against it, they +sometimes shut out the good. It is well for us if we have learned to +listen to the sweet persuasion of the Beatitudes; but there are crises in +all lives which require also the emphatic "Thou shalt not" or the +Decalogue which the founders wrote on the gate-posts of their +commonwealth. + +Let us then be thankful for the assurances which the last few years have +afforded us that: + + "The Pilgrim spirit is not dead, + But walks in noon's broad light." + +We have seen it in the faith and trust which no circumstances could +shake, in heroic self-sacrifice, in entire consecration to duty. The +fathers have lived in their sons. Have we not all known the Winthrops +and Brewsters, the Saltonstalls and Sewalls, of old times, in +gubernatorial chairs, in legislative halls, around winter camp-fires, in +the slow martyrdoms of prison and hospital? The great struggle through +which we have passed has taught us how much we owe to the men and women +of the Plymouth Colony,--the noblest ancestry that ever a people looked +back to with love and reverence. Honor, then, to the Pilgrims! Let their +memory be green forever! + + + + +GOVERNOR ENDICOTT. + +I am sorry that I cannot respond in person to the invitation of the Essex +Institute to its commemorative festival on the 18th. I especially regret +it, because, though a member of the Society of Friends, and, as such, +regarding with abhorrence the severe persecution of the sect under the +administration of Governor Endicott, I am not unmindful of the otherwise +noble qualities and worthy record of the great Puritan, whose misfortune +it was to live in an age which regarded religious toleration as a crime. +He was the victim of the merciless logic of his creed. He honestly +thought that every convert to Quakerism became by virtue of that +conversion a child of perdition; and, as the head of the Commonwealth, +responsible for the spiritual as well as temporal welfare of its +inhabitants, he felt it his duty to whip, banish, and hang heretics to +save his people from perilous heresy. + +The extravagance of some of the early Quakers has been grossly +exaggerated. Their conduct will compare in this respect favorably with +that of the first Anabaptists and Independents; but it must be admitted +that many of them manifested a good deal of that wild enthusiasm which +has always been the result of persecution and the denial of the rights of +conscience and worship. Their pertinacious defiance of laws enacted +against them, and their fierce denunciations of priests and magistrates, +must have been particularly aggravating to a man as proud and high +tempered as John Endicott. He had that free-tongued neighbor of his, +Edward Wharton, smartly whipped at the cart-tail about once a month, but +it may be questioned whether the governor's ears did not suffer as much +under Wharton's biting sarcasm and "free speech" as the latter's back did +from the magisterial whip. + +Time has proved that the Quakers had the best of the controversy; and +their descendants can well afford to forget and forgive an error which +the Puritan governor shared with the generation in which he lived. + +WEST OSSIPEE, N. H., 14th 9th Month, 1878. + + + + +JOHN WINTHROP. + +On the anniversary of his landing at Salem. + +I see by the call of the Essex Institute that some probability is +suggested that I may furnish a poem for the occasion of its meeting at +The Willows on the 22d. I would be glad to make the implied probability +a fact, but I find it difficult to put my thoughts into metrical form, +and there will be little need of it, as I understand a lady of Essex +County, who adds to her modern culture and rare poetical gifts the best +spirit of her Puritan ancestry, has lent the interest of her verse to the +occasion. + +It was a happy thought of the Institute to select for its first meeting +of the season the day and the place of the landing of the great and good +governor, and permit me to say, as thy father's old friend, that its +choice for orator, of the son of him whose genius, statesmanship, and +eloquence honored the place of his birth, has been equally happy. As I +look over the list of the excellent worthies of the first emigrations, I +find no one who, in all respects, occupies a nobler place in the early +colonial history of Massachusetts than John Winthrop. Like Vane and +Milton, he was a gentleman as well as a Puritan, a cultured and +enlightened statesman as well as a God-fearing Christian. It was not +under his long and wise chief magistracy that religious bigotry and +intolerance hung and tortured their victims, and the terrible delusion of +witchcraft darkened the sun at noonday over Essex. If he had not quite +reached the point where, to use the words of Sir Thomas More, he could +"hear heresies talked and yet let the heretics alone," he was in charity +and forbearance far in advance of his generation. + +I am sorry that I must miss an occasion of so much interest. I hope you +will not lack the presence of the distinguished citizen who inherits the +best qualities of his honored ancestor, and who, as a statesman, scholar, +and patriot, has added new lustre to the name of Winthrop. + +DANVERS, 6th Month, 19, 1880. + + + + + +VOLUME VII. THE CONFLICT WITH SLAVERY, plus POLITICS AND REFORM, THE INNER LIFE and CRITICISM + + + + CONTENTS: + + THE CONFLICT WITH SLAVERY + JUSTICE AND EXPEDIENCY + THE ABOLITIONISTS; THEIR SENTIMENTS AND OBJECTS + LETTER TO SAMUEL E. SEWALL + JOHN QUINCY ADAMS + THE BIBLE AND SLAVERY + WHAT IS SLAVERY + DEMOCRAT AND SLAVERY + THE TWO PROCESSIONS + A CHAPTER OF HISTORY + THOMAS CARLYLE ON THE SLAVE QUESTION + FORMATION OF THE AMERICAN ANTI-SLAVERY SOCIETY + THE LESSON AND OUR DUTY + CHARLES SUMNER AND THE STATE DEPARTMENT + THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF 1872 + THE CENSURE OF SUMNER + THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONVENTION OF 1833 + KANSAS + WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON + ANTI-SLAVERY ANNIVERSARY + RESPONSE TO THE CELEBRATION OF MY EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY + + REFORM AND POLITICS. + UTOPIAN SCHEMES AND POLITICAL THEORISTS + PECULIAR INSTITUTIONS OF MASSACHUSETTS + LORD ASHLEY AND THE THIEVES + WOMAN SUFFRAGE + ITALIAN UNITY + INDIAN CIVILIZATION + READING FOR THE BLIND + THE INDIAN QUESTION + THE REPUBLICAN PARTY + OUR DUMB RELATIONS + INTERNATIONAL ARBITRATION + SUFFRAGE FOR WOMEN + + THE INNER LIFE. + THE AGENCY OF EVIL + HAMLET AMONG THE GRAVES + SWEDENBORG + THE BETTER LAND + DORA GREENWELL + THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS + JOHN WOOLMAN'S JOURNAL + THE OLD WAY + HAVERFORD COLLEGE + + CRITICISM. + EVANGELINE + MIRTH AND MEDICINE + FAME AND GLORY + FANATICISM + THE POETRY OF THE NORTH + + + + + +THE CONFLICT WITH SLAVERY + + + + +JUSTICE AND EXPEDIENCY + +OR, SLAVERY CONSIDERED WITH A VIEW TO ITS RIGHTFUL AND EFFECTUAL REMEDY, +ABOLITION. + + (1833.) + + "There is a law above all the enactments of human codes, the same + throughout the world, the same in all time,--such as it was before + the daring genius of Columbus pierced the night of ages, and opened + to one world the sources of wealth and power and knowledge, to + another all unutterable woes; such as it is at this day: it is the + law written by the finger of God upon the heart of man; and by that + law, unchangeable and eternal while men despise fraud, and loathe + rapine, and abhor blood, they shall reject with indignation the wild + and guilty fantasy that man can hold property in man." + --LORD BROUGHAM. + +IT may be inquired of me why I seek to agitate the subject of Slavery in +New England, where we all acknowledge it to be an evil. Because such an +acknowledgment is not enough on our part. It is doing no more than the +slave-master and the slave-trader. "We have found," says James Monroe, +in his speech on the subject before the Virginia Convention, "that this +evil has preyed upon the very vitals of the Union; and has been +prejudicial to all the states in which it has existed." All the states +in their several Constitutions and declarations of rights have made a +similar statement. And what has been the consequence of this general +belief in the evil of human servitude? Has it sapped the foundations of +the infamous system? No. Has it decreased the number of its victims? +Quite the contrary. Unaccompanied by philanthropic action, it has been +in a moral point of view worthless, a thing without vitality, sightless, +soulless, dead. + +But it may be said that the miserable victims of the system have our +sympathies. Sympathy the sympathy of the Priest and the Levite, looking +on, and acknowledging, but holding itself aloof from mortal suffering. +Can such hollow sympathy reach the broken of heart, and does the blessing +of those who are ready to perish answer it? Does it hold back the lash +from the slave, or sweeten his bitter bread? One's heart and soul are +becoming weary of this sympathy, this heartless mockery of feeling; sick +of the common cant of hypocrisy, wreathing the artificial flowers of +sentiment over unutterable pollution and unimaginable wrong. It is +white-washing the sepulchre to make us forget its horrible deposit. It +is scattering flowers around the charnel-house and over the yet festering +grave to turn away our thoughts "from the dead men's bones and all +uncleanness," the pollution and loathsomeness below. + +No! let the truth on this subject, undisguised, naked, terrible as it is, +stand out before us. Let us no longer seek to cover it; let us no longer +strive to forget it; let us no more dare to palliate it. It is better to +meet it here with repentance than at the bar of God. The cry of the +oppressed, of the millions who have perished among us as the brute +perisheth, shut out from the glad tidings of salvation, has gone there +before us, to Him who as a father pitieth all His children. Their blood +is upon us as a nation; woe unto us, if we repent not, as a nation, in +dust and ashes. Woe unto us if we say in our hearts, "The Lord shall not +see, neither shall the God of Jacob regard it. He that planted the ear, +shall He not hear? He who formed the eye, shall He not see?" + +But it may be urged that New England has no participation in slavery, and +is not responsible for its wickedness. + +Why are we thus willing to believe a lie? New England not responsible! +Bound by the United States constitution to protect the slave-holder in +his sins, and yet not responsible! Joining hands with crime, covenanting +with oppression, leaguing with pollution, and yet not responsible! +Palliating the evil, hiding the evil, voting for the evil, do we not +participate in it? + + (Messrs. Harvey of New Hampshire, Mallary of Vermont, and Ripley of + Maine, voted in the Congress of 1829 against the consideration of a + Resolution for inquiring into the expediency of abolishing slavery + in the District of Columbia.) + +Members of one confederacy, children of one family, the curse and the +shame, the sin against our brother, and the sin against our God, all the +iniquity of slavery which is revealed to man, and all which crieth in the +ear, or is manifested to the eye of Jehovah, will assuredly be visited +upon all our people. Why, then, should we stretch out our hands towards +our Southern brethren, and like the Pharisee thank God we are not like +them? For so long as we practically recognize the infernal principle +that "man can hold property in man," God will not hold us guiltless. So +long as we take counsel of the world's policy instead of the justice of +heaven, so long as we follow a mistaken political expediency in +opposition to the express commands of God, so long will the wrongs of the +slaves rise like a cloud of witnesses against us at the inevitable bar. + +Slavery is protected by the constitutional compact, by the standing army, +by the militia of the free states. + + (J. Q. Adams is the only member of Congress who has ventured to + speak plainly of this protection. See also his very able Report + from the minority of the Committee on Manufactures. In his speech + during the last session, upon the bill of the Committee of Ways and + Means, after discussing the constitutional protection of slavery, he + says: "But that same interest is further protected by the Laws of + the United States. It was protected by the existence of a standing + army. If the States of this Union were all free republican States, + and none of them possessed any of the machinery of which he had + spoken, and if another portion of the Union were not exposed to + another danger, from their vicinity to the tribes of Indian savages, + he believed it would be difficult to prove to the House any such + thing as the necessity of a standing army. What in fact was the + occupation of the army? It had been protecting this very same + interest. It had been doing so ever since the army existed. Of + what use to the district of Plymouth (which he there represented) + was the standing army of the United States? Of not one dollar's + use, and never had been.") + +Let us not forget that should the slaves, goaded by wrongs unendurable, +rise in desperation, and pour the torrent of their brutal revenge over +the beautiful Carolinas, or the consecrated soil of Virginia, New England +would be called upon to arrest the progress of rebellion,--to tread out +with the armed heel of her soldiery that spirit of freedom, which knows +no distinction of cast or color; which has been kindled in the heart of +the black as well as in that of the white. + +And what is this system which we are thus protecting and upholding? A +system which holds two millions of God's creatures in bondage, which +leaves one million females without any protection save their own feeble +strength, and which makes even the exercise of that strength in +resistance to outrage punishable with death! which considers rational, +immortal beings as articles of traffic, vendible commodities, +merchantable property,--which recognizes no social obligations, no +natural relations,--which tears without scruple the infant from the +mother, the wife from the husband, the parent from the child. In the +strong but just language of another: "It is the full measure of pure, +unmixed, unsophisticated wickedness; and scorning all competition or +comparison, it stands without a rival in the secure, undisputed +possession of its detestable preeminence." + +So fearful an evil should have its remedies. The following are among the +many which have been from time to time proposed:-- + +1. Placing the slaves in the condition of the serfs of Poland and +Russia, fixed to the soil, and without the right on the part of the +master to sell or remove them. This was intended as a preliminary to +complete emancipation at some remote period, but it is impossible to +perceive either its justice or expediency. + +2. Gradual abolition, an indefinite term, but which is understood to +imply the draining away drop by drop, of the great ocean of wrong; +plucking off at long intervals some, straggling branches of the moral +Upas; holding out to unborn generations the shadow of a hope which the +present may never feel gradually ceasing to do evil; gradually refraining +from robbery, lust, and murder: in brief, obeying a short-sighted and +criminal policy rather than the commands of God. + +3. Abstinence on the part of the people of the free states from the use +of the known products of slave labor, in order to render that labor +profitless. Beyond a doubt the example of conscientious individuals may +have a salutary effect upon the minds of some of the slave-holders; I but +so long as our confederacy exists, a commercial intercourse with slave +states and a consumption of their products cannot be avoided. + + (The following is a recorded statement of the venerated Sir William + Jones: "Let sugar be as cheap as it may, it is better to eat none, + better to eat aloes and colloquintida, than violate a primary law + impressed on every heart not imbruted with avarice; than rob one + human creature of those eternal rights of which no law on earth can + justly deprive him.") + +4. Colonization. +The exclusive object of the American Colonization Society, according to +the second article of its constitution, is to colonize the free people of +color residing among us, in Africa or such other place as Congress may +direct. Steadily adhering to this object it has nothing to do with +slavery; and I allude to it as a remedy only because some of its friends +have in view an eventual abolition or an amelioration of the evil. + +Let facts speak. The Colonization Society was organized in 1817. It has +two hundred and eighteen auxiliary societies. The legislatures of +fourteen states have recommended it. Contributions have poured into its +treasury from every quarter of the United States. Addresses in its favor +have been heard from all our pulpits. It has been in operation sixteen +years. During this period nearly one million human beings have died in +slavery: and the number of slaves has increased more than half a million, +or in round numbers, 550,000 + +The Colonization Society has been busily engaged all this while in +conveying the slaves to Africa; in other words, abolishing slavery. In +this very charitable occupation it has carried away of manumitted slaves +613 + +Balance against the society . . . . 549,387! + +But enough of its abolition tendency. What has it done for amelioration? +Witness the newly enacted laws of some of the slave states, laws bloody +as the code of Draco, violating the laws of Cod and the unalienable +rights of His children?--(It will be seen that the society approves of +these laws.)--But why talk of amelioration? Amelioration of what? of +sin, of crime unutterable, of a system of wrong and outrage horrible in +the eye of God Why seek to mark the line of a selfish policy, a carnal +expediency between the criminality of hell and that repentance and its +fruits enjoined of heaven? + +For the principles and views of the society we must look to its own +statements and admissions; to its Annual Reports; to those of its +auxiliaries; to the speeches and writings of its advocates; and to its +organ, the African Repository. + +1. It excuses slavery and apologizes for slaveholders. + +Proof. "Slavery is an evil entailed upon the present generation of +slave-holders, which they must suffer, whether they will or not!" "The +existence of slavery among us, though not at all to be objected to our +Southern brethren as a fault," etc? "It (the society) condemns no man +because he is a slave-holder." "Recognizing the constitutional and +legitimate existence of slavery, it seeks not to interfere, either +directly or indirectly, with the rights it creates. Acknowledging the +necessity by which its present continuance and the rigorous provisions +for its maintenance are justified," etc. "They (the Abolitionists) +confound the misfortunes of one generation with the crimes of another, +and would sacrifice both individual and public good to an unsubstantial +theory of the rights of man." + +2. It pledges itself not to oppose the system of slavery. + +Proof. "Our society and the friends of colonization wish to be +distinctly understood upon this point. From the beginning they have +disavowed, and they do yet disavow, that their object is the emancipation +of slaves."--(Speech of James S. Green, Esq., First Annual Report of the +New Jersey Colonization Society.) + +"This institution proposes to do good by a single specific course of +measures. Its direct and specific purpose is not the abolition of +slavery, or the relief of pauperism, or the extension of commerce and +civilization, or the enlargement of science, or the conversion of the +heathen. The single object which its constitution prescribes, and to +which all its efforts are necessarily directed, is African colonization +from America. It proposes only to afford facilities for the voluntary +emigration of free people of color from this country to the country of +their fathers." + +"It is no abolition society; it addresses as yet arguments to no master, +and disavows with horror the idea of offering temptations to any slave. +It denies the design of attempting emancipation, either partial or +general." + +"The Colonization Society, as such, have renounced wholly the name and +the characteristics of abolitionists. On this point they have been +unjustly and injuriously slandered. Into their accounts the subject of +emancipation does not enter at all." + +"From its origin, and throughout the whole period of its existence, it +has constantly disclaimed all intention of interfering, in the smallest +degree, with the rights of property, or the object of emancipation, +gradual or immediate." . . . "The society presents to the American +public no project of emancipation."--( Mr. Clay's Speech, Idem, vol. vi. +pp. 13, 17.) + +"The emancipation of slaves or the amelioration of their condition, with +the moral, intellectual, and political improvement of people of color +within the United States, are subjects foreign to the powers of this +society." + +"The society, as a society, recognizes no principles in reference to the +slave system. It says nothing, and proposes to do nothing, respecting +it." . . . "So far as we can ascertain, the supporters of the +colonization policy generally believe that slavery is in this country a +constitptional and legitimate system, which they have no inclination, +interest, nor ability to disturb." + +3. It regards God's rational creatures as property. + +Proof. "We hold their slaves, as we hold their other property, sacred." + +"It is equally plain and undeniable that the society, in the prosecution +of this work, has never interfered or evinced even a disposition to +interfere in any way with the rights of proprietors of slaves." + +"To the slave-holder, who has charged upon them the wicked design of +interfering with the rights of property under the specious pretext of +removing a vicious and dangerous free population, they address themselves +in a tone of conciliation and sympathy. We know your rights, say they, +and we respect them." + +4. It boasts that its measures are calculated to perpetuate the detested +system of slavery, to remove the fears of the slave-holder, and increase +the value of his stock of human beings. + +Proof. "They (the Southern slave-holders) will contribute more +effectually to the continuance and strength of this system (slavery) by +removing those now free than by any or all other methods which can +possibly be devised." + +"So far from being connected with the abolition of slavery, the measure +proposed would be one of the greatest securities to enable the master to +keep in possession his own property."--(Speech of John Randolph at the +first meeting of the Colonization Society.) + +"The tendency of the scheme, and one of its objects, is to secure slave- +holders, and the whole Southern country, against certain evil +consequences growing out of the present threefold mixture of our +population." + +"There was but one way (to avert danger), but that might be made +effectual, fortunately. It was to provide and keep open a drain for the +excess beyond the occasions of profitable employment. Mr. Archer had +been stating the case in the supposition, that after the present class of +free blacks had been exhausted, by the operation of the plan he was +recommending, others would be supplied for its action, in the proportion +of the excess of colored population it would be necessary to throw off, +by the process of voluntary manumission or sale. This effect must result +inevitably from the depreciating value of the slaves, ensuing their +disproportionate multiplication. The depreciation would be relieved and +retarded at the same time by the process. The two operations would aid +reciprocally, and sustain each other, and both be in the highest degree +beneficial. It was on the ground of interest, therefore, the most +indisputable pecuniary interest, that he addressed himself to the people +and legislatures of the slave-holding states." + +"The slave-holder, who is in danger of having his slaves contaminated by +their free friends of color, will not only be relieved from this danger, +but the value of his slave will be enhanced." + +5. It denies the power of Christian love to overcome an unholy prejudice +against a portion of our fellow-creatures. + +Proof. "The managers consider it clear that causes exist and are +operating to prevent their (the blacks) improvement and elevation to any +considerable extent as a class, in this country, which are fixed, not +only beyond the control of the friends of humanity, but of any human +power. Christianity will not do for them here what it will do for them +in Africa. This is not the fault of the colored man, nor Christianity; +but an ordination of Providence, and no more to be changed than the laws +of Nature!"--(Last Annual Report of the American Colonization Society.) + +"The habits, the feelings, all the prejudices of society--prejudices +which neither refinement, nor argument, nor education, nor religion +itself, can subdue--mark the people of color, whether bond or free, as +the subjects of a degradation inevitable and incurable. The African in +this country belongs by birth to the very lowest station in society, and +from that station he can never rise, be his talents, his enterprise, his +virtues what they may. . . . They constitute a class by themselves, a +class out of which no individual can be elevated, and below which none +can be depressed." + +"Is it not wise, then, for the free people of color and their friends to +admit, what cannot reasonably be doubted, that the people of color must, +in this country, remain for ages, probably forever, a separate and +inferior caste, weighed down by causes, powerful, universal, inevitable; +which neither legislation nor Christianity can remove?" + +6. It opposes strenuously the education of the blacks in this country as +useless as well as dangerous. + +Proof. "If the free colored people were generally taught to read it +might be an inducement to them to remain in this country (that is, in +their native country). We would offer then no such inducement."-- +(Southern Religious Telegraph, February 19, 1831.) + +"The public safety of our brethren at the South requires them (the +slaves) to be kept ignorant and uninstructed." + +"It is the business of the free (their safety requires it) to keep the +slaves in ignorance. But a few days ago a proposition was made in the +legislature of Georgia to allow them so much instruction as to enable +them to read the Bible; which was promptly rejected by a large +majority."--(Proceedings of New York State Colonization Society at its +second anniversary.) + +E. B. Caldwell, the first Secretary of the American Colonization Society, +in his speech at its formation, recommended them to be kept "in the +lowest state of ignorance and degradation, for (says he) the nearer you +bring them to the condition of brutes, the better chance do you give them +of possessing their apathy." + +My limits will not admit of a more extended examination. To the +documents from whence the above extracts have been made I would call the +attention of every real friend of humanity. I seek to do the +Colonization Society no injustice, but I wish the public generally to +understand its character. + +The tendency of the society to abolish the slave-trade by means of its +African colony has been strenuously urged by its friends. But the +fallacy of this is now admitted by all: witness the following from the +reports of the society itself:-- + +"Some appalling facts in regard to the slave-trade have come to the +knowledge of the Board of Managers during the last year. With +undiminished atrocity and activity is this odious traffic now carried on +all along the African coast. Slave factories are established in the +immediate vicinity of the colony; and at the Gallinas (between Liberia +and Sierra Leone) not less than nine hundred slaves were shipped during +the last summer, in the space of three weeks." + +April 6, 1832, the House of Commons of England ordered the printing of a +document entitled "Slave-Trade, Sierra Leone," containing official +evidence of the fact that the pirates engaged in the African slave-trade +are supplied from the stores of Sierra Leone and Liberia with such +articles as the infernal traffic demands! An able English writer on the +subject of Colonization thus notices this astounding fact:-- + +"And here it may be well to observe, that as long as negro slavery lasts, +all colonies on the African coast, of whatever description, must tend to +support it, because, in all commerce, the supply is more or less +proportioned to the demand. The demand exists in negro slavery; the +supply arises from the African slave-trade. And what greater convenience +could the African slave-traders desire than shops well stored along the +coast with the very articles which their trade demands. That the African +slave-traders do get thus supplied at Sierra Leone and Liberia is matter +of official evidence; and we know, from the nature of human things, that +they will get so supplied, in defiance of all law or precaution, as long +as the demand calls for the supply, and there are free shops stored with +all they want at hand. The shopkeeper, however honest, would find it +impossible always to distinguish between the African slave-trader or his +agents and other dealers. And how many shopkeepers are there anywhere +that would be over scrupulous in questioning a customer with a full +purse?" + +But we are told that the Colonization Society is to civilize and +evangelize Africa. + +"Each emigrant," says Henry Clay, the ablest advocate which the society +has yet found, "is a missionary, carrying with him credentials in the +holy cause of civilization, religion, and free institutions." + +Beautiful and heart-cheering idea! But stay who are these emigrants, +these missionaries? + +The free people of color. "They, and they only," says the African +Repository, the society's organ, "are qualified for colonizing Africa." + +What are their qualifications? Let the society answer in its own words:-- +Free blacks are a greater nuisance than even slaves themselves."-- +(African Repository, vol. ii. p. 328.) + +"A horde of miserable people--the objects of universal suspicion-- +subsisting by plunder." + +"An anomalous race of beings the most debased upon earth."--(African +Repository, vol. vii. p. 230.) + +"Of all classes of our population the most vicious is that of the free +colored."--(Tenth Annual Report of the Colonization Society.) + +I might go on to quote still further from the "credentials" which the +free people of color are to carry with them to Liberia. But I forbear. + +I come now to the only practicable, the only just scheme of emancipation: +Immediate abolition of slavery; an immediate acknowledgment of the great +truth, that man cannot hold property in man; an immediate surrender of +baneful prejudice to Christian love; an immediate practical obedience to +the command of Jesus Christ: "Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto +you, do ye even so to them." + +A correct understanding of what is meant by immediate abolition must +convince every candid mind that it is neither visionary nor dangerous; +that it involves no disastrous consequences of bloodshed and desolation; +but, on the, contrary, that it is a safe, practicable, efficient remedy +for the evils of the slave system. + +The term immediate is used in contrast with that of gradual. Earnestly +as I wish it, I do not expect, no one expects, that the tremendous system +of oppression can be instantaneously overthrown. The terrible and +unrebukable indignation of a free people has not yet been sufficiently +concentrated against it. The friends of abolition have not forgotten the +peculiar organization of our confederacy, the delicate division of power +between the states and the general government. They see the many +obstacles in their pathway; but they know that public opinion can +overcome them all. They ask no aid of physical coercion. They seek to +obtain their object not with the weapons of violence and blood, but with +those of reason and truth, prayer to God, and entreaty to man. + +They seek to impress indelibly upon every human heart the true doctrines +of the rights of man; to establish now and forever this great and +fundamental truth of human liberty, that man cannot hold property in his +brother; for they believe that the general admission of this truth will +utterly destroy the system of slavery, based as that system is upon a +denial or disregard of it. To make use of the clear exposition of an +eminent advocate of immediate abolition, our plan of emancipation is +simply this: "To promulgate the true doctrine of human rights in high +places and low places, and all places where there are human beings; to +whisper it in chimney corners, and to proclaim it from the house-tops, +yea, from the mountain-tops; to pour it out like water from the pulpit +and the press; to raise it up with all the food of the inner man, from +infancy to gray hairs; to give 'line upon line, and precept upon +precept,' till it forms one of the foundation principles and parts +indestructible of the public soul. Let those who contemn this plan +renounce, if they have not done it already, the gospel plan of converting +the world; let them renounce every plan of moral reformation, and every +plan whatsoever, which does not terminate in the gratification of their +own animal natures." + +The friends of emancipation would urge in the first instance an immediate +abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, and in the Territories +of Florida and Arkansas. + +The number of slaves in these portions of the country, coming under the +direct jurisdiction of the general government, is as follows:-- + + District of Columbia ..... 6,119 + Territory of Arkansas .... 4,576 + Territory of Florida .... 15,501 + + Total 26,196 + +Here, then, are twenty-six thousand human beings, fashioned in the image +of God, the fitted temples of His Holy Spirit, held by the government in +the abhorrent chains of slavery. The power to emancipate them is clear. +It is indisputable. It does not depend upon the twenty-five slave votes +in Congress. It lies with the free states. Their duty is before them: +in the fear of God, and not of man let them perform it. + +Let them at once strike off the grievous fetters. Let them declare that +man shall no longer hold his fellow-man in bondage, a beast of burden, an +article of traffic, within the governmental domain. God and truth and +eternal justice demand this. The very reputation of our fathers, the +honor of our land, every principle of liberty, humanity, expediency, +demand it. A sacred regard to free principles originated our +independence, not the paltry amount of practical evil complained of. And +although our fathers left their great work unfinished, it is our duty to +follow out their principles. Short of liberty and equality we cannot +stop without doing injustice to their memories. If our fathers intended +that slavery should be perpetual, that our practice should forever give +the lie to our professions, why is the great constitutional compact so +guardedly silent on the subject of human servitude? If state necessity +demanded this perpetual violation of the laws of God and the rights of +man, this continual solecism in a government of freedom, why is it not +met as a necessity, incurable and inevitable, and formally and distinctly +recognized as a settled part of our social system? State necessity, that +imperial tyrant, seeks no disguise. In the language of Sheridan, "What +he does, he dares avow, and avowing, scorns any other justification than +the great motives which placed the iron sceptre in his grasp." + +Can it be possible that our fathers felt this state necessity strong upon +them? No; for they left open the door for emancipation, they left us the +light of their pure principles of liberty, they framed the great charter +of American rights, without employing a term in its structure to which in +aftertimes of universal freedom the enemies of our country could point +with accusation or reproach. + +What, then, is our duty? + +To give effect to the spirit of our Constitution; to plant ourselves upon +the great declaration and declare in the face of all the world that +political, religious, and legal hypocrisy shall no longer cover as with +loathsome leprosy the features of American freedom; to loose at once the +bands of wickedness; to undo the heavy burdens, and let the oppressed go +free. + +We have indeed been authoritatively told in Congress and elsewhere that +our brethren of the South and West will brook no further agitation of the +subject of slavery. What then! shall we heed the unrighteous +prohibition? No; by our duty as Christians, as politicians, by our duty +to ourselves, to our neighbor, and to God, we are called upon to agitate +this subject; to give slavery no resting-place under the hallowed aegis +of a government of freedom; to tear it root and branch, with all its +fruits of abomination, at least from the soil of the national domain. +The slave-holder may mock us; the representatives of property, +merchandise, vendible commodities, may threaten us; still our duty is +imperative; the spirit of the Constitution should be maintained within +the exclusive jurisdiction of the government. If we cannot "provide for +the general welfare," if we cannot "guarantee to each of the states a +republican form of government," let us at least no longer legislate for a +free nation within view of the falling whip, and within hearing of the +execrations of the task-master and the prayer of his slave! + +I deny the right of the slave-holder to impose silence on his brother of +the North in reference to slavery. What! compelled to maintain the +system, to keep up the standing army which protects it, and yet be denied +the poor privilege of remonstrance! Ready, at the summons of the master +to put down the insurrections of his slaves, the outbreaking of that +revenge which is now, and has been, in all nations, and all times, the +inevitable consequence of oppression and wrong, and yet like automata to +act but not speak! Are we to be denied even the right of a slave, the +right to murmur? + +I am not unaware that my remarks may be regarded by many as dangerous and +exceptionable; that I may be regarded as a fanatic for quoting the +language of eternal truth, and denounced as an incendiary for +maintaining, in the spirit as well as the letter, the doctrines of +American Independence. But if such are the consequences of a simple +performance of duty, I shall not regard them. If my feeble appeal but +reaches the hearts of any who are now slumbering in iniquity; if it shall +have power given it to shake down one stone from that foul temple where +the blood of human victims is offered to the Moloch of slavery; if under +Providence it can break one fetter from off the image of God, and enable +one suffering African + +"To feel +The weight of human misery less, and glide +Ungroaning to the tomb," + +I shall not have written in vain; my conscience will be satisfied. + +Far be it from me to cast new bitterness into the gall and wormwood +waters of sectional prejudice. No; I desire peace, the peace of +universal love, of catholic sympathy, the peace of a common interest, a +common feeling, a common humanity. But so long as slavery is tolerated, +no such peace can exist. Liberty and slavery cannot dwell in harmony +together. There will be a perpetual "war in the members" of the +political Mezentius between the living and the dead. God and man have +placed between them an everlasting barrier, an eternal separation. No +matter under what name or law or compact their union is attempted, the +ordination of Providence has forbidden it, and it cannot stand. Peace! +there can be no peace between justice and oppression, between robbery and +righteousness, truth and falsehood, freedom and slavery. + +The slave-holding states are not free. The name of liberty is there, but +the spirit is wanting. They do not partake of its invaluable blessings. +Wherever slavery exists to any considerable extent, with the exception of +some recently settled portions of the country, and which have not yet +felt in a great degree the baneful and deteriorating influences of slave +labor, we hear at this moment the cry of suffering. We are told of +grass-grown streets, of crumbling mansions, of beggared planters and +barren plantations, of fear from without, of terror within. The once +fertile fields are wasted and tenantless, for the curse of slavery, the +improvidence of that labor whose hire has been kept back by fraud, has +been there, poisoning the very earth beyond the reviving influence of the +early and the latter rain. A moral mildew mingles with and blasts the +economy of nature. It is as if the finger of the everlasting God had +written upon the soil of the slave-holder the language of His +displeasure. + +Let, then, the slave-holding states consult their present interest by +beginning without delay the work of emancipation. If they fear not, and +mock at the fiery indignation of Him, to whom vengeance belongeth, let +temporal interest persuade them. They know, they must know, that the +present state of things cannot long continue. Mind is the same +everywhere, no matter what may be the complexion of the frame which it +animates: there is a love of liberty which the scourge cannot eradicate, +a hatred of oppression which centuries of degradation cannot extinguish. +The slave will become conscious sooner or later of his brute strength, +his physical superiority, and will exert it. His torch will be at the +threshold and his knife at the throat of the planter. Horrible and +indiscriminate will be his vengeance. Where, then, will be the pride, +the beauty, and the chivalry of the South? The smoke of her torment will +rise upward like a thick cloud visible over the whole earth. + + "Belie the negro's powers: in headlong will, + Christian, thy brother thou shalt find him still. + Belie his virtues: since his wrongs began, + His follies and his crimes have stamped him man." + +Let the cause of insurrection be removed, then, as speedily as possible. +Cease to oppress. "Let him that stole steal no more." Let the laborer +have his hire. Bind him no longer by the cords of slavery, but with +those of kindness and brotherly love. Watch over him for his good. Pray +for him; instruct him; pour light into the darkness of his mind. + +Let this be done, and the horrible fears which now haunt the slumbers of +the slave-holder will depart. Conscience will take down its racks and +gibbets, and his soul will be at peace. His lands will no longer +disappoint his hopes. Free labor will renovate them. + +Historical facts; the nature of the human mind; the demonstrated truths +of political economy; the analysis of cause and effect, all concur in +establishing: + +1. That immediate abolition is a safe and just and peaceful remedy for +the evils of the slave system. + +2. That free labor, its necessary consequence, is more productive, and +more advantageous to the planter than slave labor. + +In proof of the first proposition it is only necessary to state the +undeniable fact that immediate emancipation, whether by an individual or +a community, has in no instance been attended with violence and disorder +on the part of the emancipated; but that on the contrary it has promoted +cheerfulness, industry, and laudable ambition in the place of sullen +discontent, indolence, and despair. + +The case of St. Domingo is in point. Blood was indeed shed on that +island like water, but it was not in consequence of emancipation. It was +shed in the civil war which preceded it, and in the iniquitous attempt to +restore the slave system in 1801. It flowed on the sanguine altar of +slavery, not on the pure and peaceful one of emancipation. No; there, as +in all the world and in all time, the violence of oppression engendered +violence on the part of the oppressed, and vengeance followed only upon +the iron footsteps of wrong. When, where, did justice to the injured +waken their hate and vengeance? When, where, did love and kindness and +sympathy irritate and madden the persecuted, the broken-hearted, the +foully wronged? + +In September, 1793, the Commissioner of the French National Convention +issued his proclamation giving immediate freedom to all the slaves of St. +Domingo. Did the slaves baptize their freedom in blood? Did they fight +like unchained desperadoes because they had been made free? Did they +murder their emancipators? No; they acted, as human beings must act, +under similar circumstances, by a law as irresistible as those of the +universe: kindness disarmed them, justice conciliated them, freedom +ennobled them. No tumult followed this wide and instantaneous +emancipation. It cost not one drop of blood; it abated not one tittle of +the wealth or the industry of the island. Colonel Malenfant, a slave +proprietor residing at the time on the island, states that after the +public act of abolition, the negroes remained perfectly quiet; they had +obtained all they asked for, liberty, and they continued to work upon all +the plantations.--(Malenfant in Memoirs for a History of St. Domingo by +General Lecroix, 1819.) + +"There were estates," he says, "which had neither owners nor managers +resident upon them, yet upon these estates, though abandoned, the negroes +continued their labors where there were any, even inferior, agents to +guide them; and on those estates where no white men were left to direct +them, they betook themselves to the planting of provisions; but upon all +the plantations where the whites resided the blacks continued to labor as +quietly as before." Colonel Malenfant says that when many of his +neighbors, proprietors or managers, were in prison, the negroes of their +plantations came to him to beg him to direct them in their work. "If you +will take care not to talk to them of the restoration of slavery, but +talk to them of freedom, you may with this word chain them down to their +labor. How did Toussaint succeed? How did I succeed before his time in +the plain of the Cul-de-Sac on the plantation of Gouraud, during more +than eight months after liberty had been granted to the slaves? Let +those who knew me at that time, let the blacks themselves be asked. They +will all reply that not a single negro upon that plantation, consisting +of more than four hundred and fifty laborers, refused to work; and yet +this plantation was thought to be under the worst discipline and the +slaves the most idle of any in the plain. I inspired the same activity +into three other plantations of which I had the management. If all the +negroes had come from Africa within six months, if they had the love of +independence that the Indians have, I should own that force must be +employed; but ninety-nine out of a hundred of the blacks are aware that +without labor they cannot procure the things that are necessary for them; +that there is no other method of satisfying their wants and their tastes. +They know that they must work, they wish to do so, and they will do so." + +This is strong testimony. In 1796, three years after the act of +emancipation, we are told that the colony was flourishing under +Toussaint, that the whites lived happily and peaceably on their estates, +and the blacks continued to work for them. Up to 1801 the same happy +state of things continued. The colony went on as by enchantment; +cultivation made day by day a perceptible progress, under the +recuperative energies of free labor. + +In 1801 General Vincent, a proprietor of estates in the island, was sent +by Toussaint to Paris for the purpose of laying before the Directory the +new Constitution which had been adopted at St. Domingo. He reached +France just after the peace of Amiens, when Napoleon was fitting out his +ill-starred armament for the insane purpose of restoring slavery in the +island. General Vincent remonstrated solemnly and earnestly against an +expedition so preposterous, so cruel and unnecessary; undertaken at a +moment when all was peace and quietness in the colony, when the +proprietors were in peaceful possession of their estates, when +cultivation was making a rapid progress, and the blacks were industrious +and happy beyond example. He begged that this beautiful state of things +might not be reversed. The remonstrance was not regarded, and the +expedition proceeded. Its issue is well known. Threatened once more +with the horrors of slavery, the peaceful and quiet laborer became +transformed into a demon of ferocity. The plough-share and the pruning- +hook gave way to the pike and the dagger. The white invaders were driven +back by the sword and the pestilence; and then, and not till then, was +the property of the planters seized upon by the excited and infuriated +blacks. + +In 1804 Dessalines was proclaimed Emperor of Hayti. The black troops +were in a great measure disbanded, and they immediately returned to the +cultivation of the plantations. From that period up to the present there +has been no want of industry among the inhabitants. + +Mr. Harvey, who during the reign of Christophe resided at Cape Francois, +in describing the character and condition of the inhabitants, says "It +was an interesting sight to behold this class of the Haytiens, now in +possession of their freedom, coming in groups to the market nearest which +they resided, bringing the produce of their industry there for sale; and +afterwards returning, carrying back the necessary articles of living +which the disposal of their commodities had enabled them to purchase; all +evidently cheerful and happy. Nor could it fail to occur to the mind +that their present condition furnished the most satisfactory answer to +that objection to the general emancipation of slaves founded on their +alleged unfitness to value and improve the benefits of liberty. . . . +As they would not suffer, so they do not require, the attendance of one +acting in the capacity of a driver with the instrument of punishment in +his hand. As far as I had an opportunity of ascertaining from what fell +under my own observation, and from what I gathered from other European +residents, I am persuaded of one general fact, which on account of its +importance I shall state in the most explicit terms, namely, that the +Haytiens employed in cultivating the plantations, as well as the rest of +the population, perform as much work in a given time as they were +accustomed to do during their subjection to the French. And if we may +judge of their future improvement by the change which has been already +effected, it may be reasonably anticipated that Hayti will erelong +contain a population not inferior in their industry to that of any +civilized nation in the world. . . . Every man had some calling to +occupy his attention; instances of idleness or intemperance were of rare +occurrence; the most perfect subordination prevailed, and all appeared +contented and happy. A foreigner would have found it difficult to +persuade himself, on his first entering the place, that the people he now +beheld so submissive, industrious, and contented, were the same people +who a few years before had escaped from the shackles of slavery." + +The present condition of Hayti may be judged of from the following well- +authenticated facts its population is more than 700,000, its resources +ample, its prosperity and happiness general, its crimes few, its labor +crowned with abundance, with no paupers save the decrepit and aged, its +people hospitable, respectful, orderly, and contented. + +The manumitted slaves, who to the number of two thousand were settled in +Nova Scotia by the British Government at the close of the Revolutionary +War, "led a harmless life, and gained the character of an honest, +industrious people from their white neighbors." Of the free laborers of +Trinidad we have the same report. At the Cape of Good Hope, three +thousand negroes received their freedom, and with scarce a single +exception betook themselves to laborious employments. + +But we have yet stronger evidence. The total abolishment of slavery in +the southern republics has proved beyond dispute the safety and utility +of immediate abolition. The departed Bolivar indeed deserves his +glorious title of Liberator, for he began his career of freedom by +striking off the fetters of his own slaves, seven hundred in number. + +In an official letter from the Mexican Envoy of the British Government, +dated Mexico, March, 1826, and addressed 'to the Right Hon. George +Canning, the superiority of free over slave labor is clearly demonstrated +by the following facts:-- + +2. It is now carried on exclusively by the labor of free blacks. + +3. It was formerly wholly sustained by the forced labor of slaves, +purchased at Vera Cruz at $300 to $400 each. + +4. Abolition in this section was effected not by governmental +interference, not even from motives of humanity, but from an irresistible +conviction on the part of the planters that their pecuniary interest +demanded it. + +5. The result has proved the entire correctness of this conviction; and +the planters would now be as unwilling as the blacks themselves to return +to the old system. + +Let our Southern brethren imitate this example. It is in vain, in the +face of facts like these, to talk of the necessity of maintaining the +abominable system, operating as it does like a double curse upon planters +and slaves. Heaven and earth deny its necessity. It is as necessary as +other robberies, and no more. + +Yes, putting aside altogether the righteous law of the living God--the +same yesterday, to-day, and forever--and shutting out the clearest +political truths ever taught by man, still, in human policy selfish +expediency would demand of the planter the immediate emancipation of his +slaves. + +Because slave labor is the labor of mere machines; a mechanical impulse +of body and limb, with which the mind of the laborer has no sympathy, and +from which it constantly and loathingly revolts. + +Because slave labor deprives the master altogether of the incalculable +benefit of the negro's will. That does not cooperate with the forced +toil of the body. This is but the necessary consequence of all labor +which does not benefit the laborer. It is a just remark of that profound +political economist, Adam Smith, that "a slave can have no other interest +than to eat and waste as much, and work as little, as he can." + +To my mind, in the wasteful and blighting influences of slave labor there +is a solemn and warning moral. + +They seem the evidence of the displeasure of Him who created man after +His own image, at the unnatural attempt to govern the bones and sinews, +the bodies and souls, of one portion of His children by the caprice, the +avarice, the lusts of another; at that utter violation of the design of +His merciful Providence, whereby the entire dependence of millions of His +rational creatures is made to centre upon the will, the existence, the +ability, of their fellow-mortals, instead of resting under the shadow of +His own Infinite Power and exceeding love. + +I shall offer a few more facts and observations on this point. + +1. A distinguished scientific gentleman, Mr. Coulomb, the superintendent +of several military works in the French West Indies, gives it as his +opinion, that the slaves do not perform more than one third of the labor +which they would do, provided they were urged by their own interests and +inclinations instead of brute force. + +2. A plantation in Barbadoes in 1780 was cultivated by two hundred and +eighty-eight slaves ninety men, eighty-two women, fifty-six boys, and +sixty girls. In three years and three months there were on this +plantation fifty-seven deaths, and only fifteen births. A change was +then made in the government of the slaves. The use of the whip was +denied; all severe and arbitrary punishments were abolished; the laborers +received wages, and their offences were all tried by a sort of negro +court established among themselves: in short, they were practically free. +Under this system, in four years and three months there were forty-four +births, and but forty-one deaths; and the annual net produce of the +plantation was more than three times what it had been before.--(English +Quarterly Magazine and Review, April, 1832.) + +3. The following evidence was adduced by Pitt in the British Parliament, +April, 1792. The assembly of Grenada had themselves stated, "that though +the negroes were allowed only the afternoon of one day in a week, they +would do as much work in that afternoon, when employed for their own +benefit, as in the whole day when employed in their master's service." +"Now after this confession," said Mr. Pitt, "the house might burn all its +calculations relative to the negro population. A negro, if he worked for +himself, could no doubt do double work. By an improvement, then, in the +mode of labor, the work in the islands could be doubled." + +4. "In coffee districts it is usual for the master to hire his people +after they have done the regular task for the day, at a rate varying from +10d. to 15.8d. for every extra bushel which they pluck from the trees; +and many, almost all, are found eager to earn their wages." + +5. In a report made by the commandant of Castries for the government of +St. Lucia, in 1822, it is stated, in proof of the intimacy between the +slaves and the free blacks, that "many small plantations of the latter, +and occupied by only one man and his wife, are better cultivated and have +more land in cultivation than those of the proprietors of many slaves, +and that the labor on them is performed by runaway slaves;" thus clearly +proving that even runaway slaves, under the all-depressing fears of +discovery and oppression, labor well, because the fruits of their labor +are immediately their own. + +Let us look at this subject from another point of view. The large sum of +money necessary for stocking a plantation with slaves has an inevitable +tendency to place the agriculture of a slave-holding community +exclusively in the hands of the wealthy, a tendency at war with practical +republicanism and conflicting with the best maxims of political economy. + +Two hundred slaves at $200 per head would cost in the outset $40,000. +Compare this enormous outlay for the labor of a single plantation with +the beautiful system of free labor as exhibited in New England, where +every young laborer, with health and ordinary prudence, may acquire by +his labor on the farms of others, in a few years, a farm of his own, and +the stock necessary for its proper cultivation; where on a hard and +unthankful soil independence and competence may be attained by all. + +Free labor is perfectly in accordance with the spirit of our +institutions; slave labor is a relic of a barbarous, despotic age. The +one, like the firmament of heaven, is the equal diffusion of similar +lights, manifest, harmonious, regular; the other is the fiery +predominance of some disastrous star, hiding all lesser luminaries around +it in one consuming glare. + +Emancipation would reform this evil. The planter would no longer be +under the necessity of a heavy expenditure for slaves. He would only pay +a very moderate price for his labor; a price, indeed, far less than the +cost of the maintenance of a promiscuous gang of slaves, which the +present system requires. + +In an old plantation of three hundred slaves, not more than one hundred +effective laborers will be found. Children, the old and superannuated, +the sick and decrepit, the idle and incorrigibly vicious, will be found +to constitute two thirds of the whole number. The remaining third +perform only about one third as much work as the same number of free +laborers. + +Now disburden the master of this heavy load of maintenance; let him +employ free able, industrious laborers only, those who feel conscious of +a personal interest in the fruits of their labor, and who does not see +that such a system would be vastly more safe and economical than the +present? + +The slave states are learning this truth by fatal experience. Most of +them are silently writhing under the great curse. Virginia has uttered +her complaints aloud. As yet, however, nothing has been done even there, +save a small annual appropriation for the purpose of colonizing the free +colored inhabitants of the state. Is this a remedy? + +But it may be said that Virginia will ultimately liberate her slaves on +condition of their colonization in Africa, peacefully if possible, +forcibly if necessary. + +Well, admitting that Virginia may be able and willing at some remote +period to rid herself of the evil by commuting the punishment of her +unoffending colored people from slavery to exile, will her fearful remedy +apply to some of the other slaveholding states? + +It is a fact, strongly insisted upon by our Southern brethren as a reason +for the perpetuation of slavery, that their climate and peculiar +agriculture will not admit of hard labor on the part of the whites; that +amidst the fatal malaria of the rice plantations the white man is almost +annually visited by the country fever; that few of the white overseers of +these plantations reach the middle period of ordinary life; that the +owners are compelled to fly from their estates as the hot season +approaches, without being able to return until the first frosts have +fallen. But we are told that the slaves remain there, at their work, +mid-leg in putrid water, breathing the noisome atmosphere, loaded with +contagion, and underneath the scorching fervor of a terrible sun; that +they indeed suffer; but, that their habits, constitutions, and their long +practice enable them to labor, surrounded by such destructive influences, +with comparative safety. + +The conclusive answer, therefore, to those who in reality cherish the +visionary hope of colonizing all the colored people of the United States +in Africa or elsewhere, is this single, all-important fact: The labor of +the blacks will not and cannot be dispensed with by the planter of the +South. + +To what remedy, then, can the friends of humanity betake themselves but +to that of emancipation? + +And nothing but a strong, unequivocal expression of public sentiment is +needed to carry into effect this remedy, so far as the general government +is concerned. + +And when the voice of all the non-slave-holding states shall be heard on +this question, a voice of expostulation, rebuke, entreaty--when the full +light of truth shall break through the night of prejudice, and reveal all +the foul abominations of slavery, will Delaware still cling to the curse +which is wasting her moral strength, and still rivet the fetters upon her +three or four thousand slaves? Let Delaware begin the work, and Maryland +and Virginia must follow; the example will be contagious; and the great +object of universal emancipation will be attained. Freemen, Christians, +lovers of truth and justice Why stand ye idle? Ours is a government of +opinion, and slavery is interwoven with it. Change the current of +opinion, and slavery will be swept away. Let the awful sovereignty of +the people, a power which is limited only by the sovereignty of Heaven, +arise and pronounce judgment against the crying iniquity. Let each +individual remember that upon himself rests a portion of that +sovereignty; a part of the tremendous responsibility of its exercise. +The burning, withering concentration of public opinion upon the slave +system is alone needed for its total annihilation. God has given us the +power to overthrow it; a power peaceful, yet mighty, benevolent, yet +effectual, "awful without severity," a moral strength equal to the +emergency. + +"How does it happen," inquires an able writer, "that whenever duty is named +we begin to hear of the weakness of human nature? That same nature which +outruns the whirlwind in the chase of gain, which rages like a maniac at +the trumpet call of glory, which laughs danger and death to scorn when +its least passion is awakened, becomes weak as childhood when reminded of +the claims of duty." But let no one hope to find an excuse in hypocrisy. +The humblest individual of the community in one way or another possesses +influence; and upon him as well as upon the proudest rests the +responsibility of its rightful exercise and proper direction. The +overthrow of a great national evil like that of slavery can only be +effected by the united energies of the great body of the people. +Shoulder must be put to shoulder and hand linked with hand, the whole +mass must be put in motion and its entire strength applied, until the +fabric of oppression is shaken to its dark foundations and not one stone +is left upon another. + +Let the Christian remember that the God of his worship hateth oppression; +that the mystery of faith can only be held by a pure conscience; and that +in vain is the tithe of mint, and anise, and cummin, if the weihtier +matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and truth, are forgotten. Let him +remember that all along the clouded region of slavery the truths of the +everlasting gospel are not spoken, that the ear of iniquity is lulled, +that those who minister between the "porch and the altar" dare not speak +out the language of eternal justice: "Is not this the fast which I have +chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and +to let the oppressed go free?" (Isa. viii. 6.) "He that stealeth a man +and selleth him; or if he be found in his hand, he shall surely be put to +death." (Exod. xxi. 16.1) Yet a little while and the voice of impartial +prayer for humanity will be heard no more in the abiding place of +slavery. The truths of the gospel, its voice of warning and exhortation, +will be denounced as incendiary? The night of that infidelity, which +denies God in the abuse and degradation of man, will settle over the +land, to be broken only by the upheaving earthquake of eternal +retribution. + +To the members of the religious Society of Friends, I would earnestly +appeal. They have already done much to put away the evil of slavery in +this country and Great Britain. The blessings of many who were ready to +perish have rested upon them. But their faithful testimony must be still +steadily upborne, for the great work is but begun. Let them not relax +their exertions, nor be contented with a lifeless testimony, a formal +protestation against the evil. Active, prayerful, unwearied exertion is +needed for its overthrow. But above all, let them not aid in excusing +and palliating it. Slavery has no redeeming qualities, no feature of +benevolence, nothing pure, nothing peaceful, nothing just. Let them +carefully keep themselves aloof from all societies and all schemes which +have a tendency to excuse or overlook its crying iniquity. True to a +doctrine founded on love and mercy, "peace on earth and good will to +men," they should regard the suffering slave as their brother, and +endeavor to "put their souls in his soul's stead." They may earnestly +desire the civilization of Africa, but they cannot aid in building up the +colony of Liberia so long as that colony leans for support upon the arm +of military power; so long as it proselytes to Christianity under the +muzzles of its cannon; and preaches the doctrines of Christ while +practising those of Mahomet. When the Sierra Leone Company was formed in +England, not a member of the Society of Friends could be prevailed upon +to engage in it, because the colony was to be supplied with cannon and +other military stores. Yet the Foreign Agent of the Liberia Colony +Society, to which the same insurmountable objection exists, is a member +of the Society of Friends, and I understand has been recently employed in +providing gunpowder, etc., for the use of the colony. There must be an +awakening on this subject; other Woolmans and other Benezets must arise +and speak the truth with the meek love of James and the fervent sincerity +of Paul. + +To the women of America, whose sympathies know no distinction of cline, +or sect, or color, the suffering slave is making a strong appeal. Oh, +let it not be unheeded! for of those to whom much is given much will be +required at the last dread tribunal; and never in the strongest terms of +human eulogy was woman's influence overrated. Sisters, daughters, wives, +and mothers, your influence is felt everywhere, at the fireside, and in +the halls of legislation, surrounding, like the all-encircling +atmosphere, brother and father, husband and son! And by your love of +them, by every holy sympathy of your bosoms, by every mournful appeal +which comes up to you from hearts whose sanctuary of affections has been +made waste and desolate, you are called upon to exert it in the cause of +redemption from wrong and outrage. + +Let the patriot, the friend of liberty and the Union of the States, no +longer shut his eyes to the great danger, the master-evil before which +all others dwindle into insignificance. Our Union is tottering to its +foundation, and slavery is the cause. Remove the evil. Dry up at their +source the bitter waters. In vain you enact and abrogate your tariffs; +in vain is individual sacrifice, or sectional concession. The accursed +thing is with us, the stone of stumbling and the rock of offence remains. +Drag, then, the Achan into light; and let national repentance atone for +national sin. + +The conflicting interests of free and slave labor furnish the only ground +for fear in relation to the permanency of the Union. The line of +separation between them is day by day growing broader and deeper; +geographically and politically united, we are already, in a moral point +of view, a divided people. But a few months ago we were on the very +verge of civil war, a war of brothers, a war between the North and the +South, between the slave-holder and the free laborer. The danger has +been delayed for a time; this bolt has fallen without mortal injury to +the Union, but the cloud from whence it came still hangs above us, +reddening with the elements of destruction. + +Recent events have furnished ample proof that the slave-holding interest +is prepared to resist any legislation on the part of the general +government which is supposed to have a tendency, directly or indirectly, +to encourage and invigorate free labor; and that it is determined to +charge upon its opposite interest the infliction of all those evils which +necessarily attend its own operation, "the primeval curse of Omnipotence +upon slavery." + +We have already felt in too many instances the extreme difficulty of +cherishing in one common course of national legislation the opposite +interests of republican equality and feudal aristocracy and servitude. +The truth is, we have undertaken a moral impossibility. These interests +are from their nature irreconcilable. The one is based upon the pure +principles of rational liberty; the other, under the name of freedom, +revives the ancient European system of barons and villains, nobles and +serfs. Indeed, the state of society which existed among our Anglo-Saxon +ancestors was far more tolerable than that of many portions of our +republican confederacy. For the Anglo-Saxon slaves had it in their power +to purchase their freedom; and the laws of the realm recognized their +liberation and placed them under legal protection. + + (The diffusion of Christianity in Great Britain was moreover + followed by a general manumission; for it would seem that the + priests and missionaries of religion in that early and benighted age + were more faithful in the performance of their duties than those of + the present. "The holy fathers, monks, and friars," says Sir T. + Smith, "had in their confessions, and specially in their extreme and + deadly sickness, convinced the laity how dangerous a thing it was + for one Christian to hold another in bondage; so that temporal men, + by reason of the terror in their consciences, were glad to manumit + all their villains."--Hilt. Commonwealth, Blackstone, p. 52.) + +To counteract the dangers resulting from a state of society so utterly at +variance with the great Declaration of American freedom should be the +earnest endeavor of every patriotic statesman. Nothing unconstitutional, +nothing violent, should be attempted; but the true doctrine of the rights +of man should be steadily kept in view; and the opposition to slavery +should be inflexible and constantly maintained. The almost daily +violations of the Constitution in consequence of the laws of some of the +slave states, subjecting free colored citizens of New England and +elsewhere, who may happen to be on board of our coasting vessels, to +imprisonment immediately on their arrival in a Southern port should be +provided against. Nor should the imprisonment of the free colored +citizens of the Northern and Middle states, on suspicion of being +runaways, subjecting them, even after being pronounced free, to the costs +of their confinement and trial, be longer tolerated; for if we continue +to yield to innovations like these upon the Constitution of our fathers, +we shall erelong have the name only of a free government left us. + +Dissemble as we may, it is impossible for us to believe, after fully +considering the nature of slavery, that it can much longer maintain a +peaceable existence among us. A day of revolution must come, and it is +our duty to prepare for it. Its threatened evil may be changed into a +national blessing. The establishment of schools for the instruction of +the slave children, a general diffusion of the lights of Christianity, +and the introduction of a sacred respect for the social obligations of +marriage and for the relations between parents and children, among our +black population, would render emancipation not only perfectly safe, but +also of the highest advantage to the country. Two millions of freemen +would be added to our population, upon whom in the hour of danger we +could safely depend; "the domestic foe" would be changed into a firm +friend, faithful, generous, and ready to encounter all dangers in our +defence. It is well known that during the last war with Great Britain, +wherever the enemy touched upon our Southern coast, the slaves in +multitudes hastened to join them. On the other hand, the free blacks +were highly serviceable in repelling them. So warm was the zeal of the +latter, so manifest their courage in the defence of Louisiana, that the +present Chief Magistrate of the United States publicly bestowed upon them +one of the highest eulogiums ever offered by a commander to his soldiers. + +Let no one seek an apology for silence on the subject of slavery because +the laws of the land tolerate and sanction it. But a short time ago the +slave-trade was protected by laws and treaties, and sanctioned by the +example of men eminent for the reputation of piety and integrity. Yet +public opinion broke over these barriers; it lifted the curtain and +revealed the horrors of that most abominable traffic; and unrighteous law +and ancient custom and avarice and luxury gave way before its +irresistible authority. It should never be forgotten that human law +cannot change the nature of human action in the pure eye of infinite +justice; and that the ordinances of man cannot annul those of God. The +slave system, as existing in this country, can be considered in no other +light than as the cause of which the foul traffic in human flesh is the +legitimate consequence. It is the parent, the fosterer, the sole +supporter of the slave-trade. It creates the demand for slaves, and the +foreign supply will always be equal to the demand of consumption. It +keeps the market open. It offers inducements to the slave-trader which +no severity of law against his traffic can overcome. By our laws his +trade is piracy; while slavery, to which alone it owes its existence, is +protected and cherished, and those engaged in it are rewarded by an +increase of political power proportioned to the increase of their stock +of human beings! To steal the natives of Africa is a crime worthy of an +ignominious death; but to steal and enslave annually nearly one hundred +thousand of the descendants of these stolen natives, born in this +country, is considered altogether excusable and proper! For my own part, +I know no difference between robbery in Africa and robbery at home. I +could with as quiet a conscience engage in the one as the other. + +"There is not one general principle," justly remarks Lord Nugent, "on +which the slave-trade is to be stigmatized which does not impeach slavery +itself." Kindred in iniquity, both must fall speedily, fall together, +and be consigned to the same dishonorable grave. The spirit which is +thrilling through every nerve of England is awakening America from her +sleep of death. Who, among our statesmen, would not shrink from the +baneful reputation of having supported by his legislative influence the +slave-trade, the traffic in human flesh? Let them then beware; for the +time is near at hand when the present defenders of slavery will sink +under the same fatal reputation, and leave to posterity a memory which +will blacken through all future time, a legacy of infamy. + +"Let us not betake us to the common arts and stratagems of nations, but +fear God, and put away the evil which provokes Him; and trust not in man, +but in the living God; and it shall go well for England!" This counsel, +given by the purehearted William Penn, in a former age, is about to be +followed in the present. An intense and powerful feeling is working in +the mighty heart of England; it is speaking through the lips of Brougham +and Buxton and O'Connell, and demanding justice in the name of humanity +and according to the righteous law of God. The immediate emancipation of +eight hundred thousand slaves is demanded with an authority which cannot +much longer be disputed or trifled with. That demand will be obeyed; +justice will be done; the heavy burdens will be unloosed; the oppressed +set free. It shall go well for England. + +And when the stain on our own escutcheon shall be seen no more; when the +Declaration of our Independence and the practice of our people shall +agree; when truth shall be exalted among us; when love shall take the +place of wrong; when all the baneful pride and prejudice of caste and +color shall fall forever; when under one common sun of political liberty +the slave-holding portions of our republic shall no longer sit, like the +Egyptians of old, themselves mantled in thick darkness, while all around +them is glowing with the blessed light of freedom and equality, then, and +not till then, shall it go well for America! + + + + +THE ABOLITIONISTS. THEIR SENTIMENTS AND OBJECTS. + +Two letters to the 'Jeffersonian and Times', Richmond, Va. + + + I. + +A FRIEND has banded me a late number of your paper, containing a brief +notice of a pamphlet, which I have recently published on the subject of +slavery. + +From an occasional perusal of your paper, I have formed a favorable +opinion of your talent and independence. Compelled to dissent from some +of your political sentiments, I still give you full credit for the lofty +tone of sincerity and manliness with which these sentiments are avowed +and defended. + +I perceive that since the adjustment of the tariff question a new subject +of discontent and agitation seems to engross your attention. + +The "accursed tariff" has no sooner ceased to be the stone of stumbling +and the rock of offence, than the "abolition doctrines of the Northern +enthusiasts," as you are pleased to term the doctrines of your own +Jefferson, furnish, in your opinion, a sufficient reason for poising the +"Ancient Dominion" on its sovereignty, and rousing every slaveowner to +military preparations, until the entire South, from the Potomac to the +Gulf, shall bristle with bayonets, "like quills upon the fretful +porcupine." + +In proof of a conspiracy against your "vested rights," you have commenced +publishing copious extracts from the pamphlets and periodicals of the +abolitionists of New England and New York. An extract from my own +pamphlet you have headed "The Fanatics," and in introducing it to your +readers you inform them that "it exhibits, in strong colors, the morbid +spirit of that false and fanatical philanthropy, which is at work in the +Northern states, and, to some extent, in the South." + +Gentlemen, so far as I am personally concerned in the matter, I feel no +disposition to take exceptions to any epithets which you may see fit to +apply to me or my writings. A humble son of New England--a tiller of her +rugged soil, and a companion of her unostentatious yeomanry--it matters +little, in any personal consideration of the subject, whether the voice +of praise or opprobrium reaches me from beyond the narrow limits of my +immediate neighborhood. + +But when I find my opinions quoted as the sentiment of New England, and +then denounced as dangerous, "false and fanatical;" and especially when I +see them made the occasion of earnest appeals to the prejudices and +sectional jealousies of the South, it becomes me to endeavor to establish +their truths, and defend them from illegitimate influences and unjust +suspicions. + +In the first place, then, let me say, that if it be criminal to publicly +express a belief that it is in the power of the slave states to +emancipate their slaves, with profit and safety to themselves, and that +such is their immediate duty, a majority of the people of New England are +wholly guiltless. Of course, all are nominally opposed to slavery; but +upon the little band of abolitionists should the anathemas of the slave- +holder be directed, for they are the agitators of whom you complain, men +who are acting under a solemn conviction of duty, and who are bending +every energy of their minds to the accomplishment of their object. + +And that object is the overthrow of slavery in the United States, by such +means only as are sanctioned by law, humanity, and religion. + +I shall endeavor, gentlemen, as briefly as may be, to give you some of +our reasons for opposing slavery and seeking its abolition; and, +secondly, to explain our mode of operation; to disclose our plan of +emancipation, fully and entirely. We wish to do nothing darkly; frank +republicans, we acknowledge no double-dealing. At this busy season of +the year, I cannot but regret that I have not leisure for such a +deliberate examination of the subject as even my poor ability might +warrant. My remarks, penned in the intervals of labor, must necessarily +be brief, and wanting in coherence. + +We seek the abolishment of slavery + +1. Because it is contrary to the law of God. + +In your paper of the 2d of 7th mo., the same in which you denounce the +"false and fanatical philanthropy" of abolitionists, you avow yourselves +members of the Bible Society, and bestow warm and deserved encomiums on +the "truly pious undertaking of sending the truth among all nations." + +You, therefore, gentlemen, whatever others may do, will not accuse me of +"fanaticism," if I endeavor to sustain my first great reason for opposing +slavery by a reference to the volume of inspiration: + +"Therefore, all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you do +ye even so to them." + +"Wherefore now let the fear of the Lord be upon you, take heed and do it; +for there is no iniquity with the Lord, nor respect of persons." + +"Is not this the fast that I have chosen? To loose the bands of +wickedness; to undo the heavy burdens and let the oppressed go free, and +that ye break every yoke?" + +"If a man be found stealing any of his brethren, and maketh merchandise +of him, or selling him, that thief shall die." + +"Of a truth, I perceive that God is no respecter of persons." + +"And he that stealeth a man and selleth him, or if he be found in his +hands, he shall surely be put to death." + +2. Because it is an open violation of all human equality, of the laws of +Nature and of nations. + +The fundamental principle of all equal and just law is contained in the +following extract from Blackstone's Commentaries, Introduction, sec. 2. + +"The rights which God and Nature have established, and which are +therefore called natural rights, such as life and liberty, need not the +aid of human laws to be more effectually vested in every man than they +are; neither do they receive any additional strength when declared by +municipal laws to be inviolable: on the contrary, no human legislation +has power to abridge or destroy there, unless the owner shall himself +commit some act that amounts to a forfeiture." + +Has the negro committed such offence? Above all, has his infant child +forfeited its unalienable right? + +Surely it can be no act of the innocent child. + +Yet you must prove the forfeiture, or no human legislation can deprive +that child of its freedom. + +Its black skin constitutes the forfeiture! + +What! throw the responsibility upon God! Charge the common Father of the +white and the black, He, who is no respecter of persons, with plundering +His unoffending children of all which makes the boon of existence +desirable; their personal liberty! + +"We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal; +that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; +that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."-- +(Declaration of Independence, from the pen of Thomas Jefferson.) + +In this general and unqualified declaration, on the 4th of July, 1776, +all the people of the United States, without distinction of color, were +proclaimed free, by the delegates of the people of those states assembled +in their highest sovereign capacity. + +For more than half a century we have openly violated that solemn +declaration. + +3. Because it renders nugatory the otherwise beneficial example of our +free institutions, and exposes us to the scorn and reproach of the +liberal and enlightened of other nations. + +"Chains clank and groans echo around the walls of their spotless +Congress."--(Francis Jeffrey.) + +"Man to be possessed by man! Man to be made property of! The image of +the Deity to be put under the yoke! Let these usurpers show us their +title-deeds!"--(Simon Boliver.) + +"When I am indulging in my views of American prospects and American +liberty, it is mortifying to be told that in that very country a large +portion of the people are slaves! It is a dark spot on the face of the +nation. Such a state of things cannot always exist."--(Lafayette.) + +"I deem it right to raise my humble voice to convince the citizens of +America that the slaveholding states are held in abomination by all those +whose opinion ought to be valuable. Man is the property of man in about +one half of the American States: let them not therefore dare to prate of +their institutions or of their national freedom, while they hold their +fellow-men in bondage! Of all men living, the American citizen who is +the owner of slaves is the most despicable. He is a political hypocrite +of the very worst description. The friends of humanity and liberty in +Europe should join in one universal cry of shame on the American slave- +holders! 'Base wretches!' should we shout in chorus; 'base wretches! +how dare you profane the temple of national freedom, the sacred fane of +republican rites, with the presence and the sufferings of human beings in +chains and slavery!'"--(Daniel O'Connell.) + +4. Because it subjects one portion of our American brethren to the +unrestrained violence and unholy passions of another. + +Here, gentlemen, I might summon to my support a cloud of witnesses, a +host of incontrovertible, damning facts, the legitimate results of a +system whose tendency is to harden and deprave the heart. But I will not +descend to particulars. I am willing to believe that the majority of the +masters of your section of the country are disposed to treat their +unfortunate slaves with kindness. But where the dreadful privilege of +slave-holding is extended to all, in every neighborhood, there must be +individuals whose cupidity is unrestrained by any principle of humanity, +whose lusts are fiercely indulged, whose fearful power over the bodies, +nay, may I not say the souls, of their victims is daily and hourly +abused. + +Will the evidence of your own Jefferson, on this point, be admissible? + +"The whole commerce between master and slave is a perpetual exercise, of +the most boisterous passions; the most unremitting despotism on the one +part, and degrading submission on the other. Our children see this, and +learn to imitate it. The parent storms, the child looks on, catches the +lineaments of wrath, puts on the same airs in the circle of smaller +slaves, gives loose to the worst of passions; and thus nursed, educated, +and daily exercised in tyranny, cannot fail to be stamped by it with +odious peculiarities. The man must be a prodigy who can retain his +morals and manners undepraved by such circumstances."--(Notes on +Virginia, p. 241.) + +"Il n'existe a la verite aucune loi qui protege l'esclave le mauvais +traitement du maitre," says Achille Murat, himself a Floridian slave- +holder, in his late work on the United States. + +Gentlemen, is not this true? Does there exist even in Virginia any law +limiting the punishment of a slave? Are there any bounds prescribed, +beyond which the brutal, the revengeful, the intoxicated slave-master, +acting in the double capacity of judge and executioner, cannot pass? + +You will, perhaps, tell me that the general law against murder applies +alike to master and slave. True; but will you point out instances of +masters suffering the penalty of that law for the murder of their slaves? +If you examine your judicial reports you will find the wilful murder of a +slave decided to be only a trespass!--(Virginia Reports, vol. v. p. 481, +Harris versus Nichols.) + +It indeed argues well for Virginian pride of character, that latterly, +the law, which expressly sanctioned the murder of a slave, who in the +language of Georgia and North Carolina, "died of moderate correction," +has been repealed. But, although the letter of the law is changed, its +practice remains the same. In proof of this, I would refer to +Brockenborough and Holmes' Virginia Cases, p. 258. + +In Georgia and North Carolina the murder of a slave is tolerated and +justified by law, provided that in the opinion of the court he died "of +moderate correction!" + +In South Carolina the following clause of a law enacted in 1740 is still +in force:-- + +"If any slave shall suffer in his life, limbs, or members, when no white +person shall be present, or being present shall neglect or refuse to give +evidence concerning the same, in every such case the owner or other +person who shall have the care and government of the slave shall be +deemed and taken to be guilty of such offence; unless such owner or other +person can make the contrary appear by good and sufficient evidence, or +shall by his own oath clear and exculpate himself, which oath every court +where such offence shall be tried is hereby empowered to administer and +to acquit the offender accordingly, if clear proof of the offence be not +made by two witnesses at least, any law, usage, or custom to the contrary +notwithstanding." + +Is not this offering a reward for perjury? And what shall we think of +that misnamed court of justice, where it is optional with the witnesses, +in a case of life and death, to give or withhold their testimony. + +5. Because it induces dangerous sectional jealousies, creates of +necessity a struggle between the opposing interests of free and slave +labor, and threatens the integrity of the Union. + +That sectional jealousies do exist, the tone of your paper, gentlemen, is +of itself an evidence, if indeed any were needed. The moral sentiment of +the free states is against slavery. The freeman has declared his +unwillingness that his labor should be reduced to a level with that of +slaves. Harsh epithets and harsh threats have been freely exchanged, +until the beautiful Potomac, wherever it winds its way to the ocean, has +become the dividing line, not of territory only, but of feeling, +interest, national pride, a moral division. + +What shook the pillars of the Union when the Missouri question was +agitated? What but a few months ago arrayed in arms a state against the +Union, and the Union against a state? + +From Maine to Florida, gentlemen, the answer must be the same, slavery. + +6. Because of its pernicious influence upon national wealth and +prosperity. + +Political economy has been the peculiar study of Virginia. But there are +some important truths connected with this science which she has hitherto +overlooked or wantonly disregarded. + +Population increasing with the means of subsistence is a fair test of +national wealth. + +By reference to the several censuses of the United States, it will be +seen that the white population increases nearly twice as fast in states +where there are few or no slaves as in the slave states. + +Again, in the latter states the slave population has increased twice as +fast as the white. Let us take, for example, the period of twenty years, +from 1790 to 1810, and compare the increase of the two classes in three +of the Southern states. + + Per cent. of whites. Per cent. of blacks. + + Maryland 13 31 + Virginia 24 38 + North Carolina 30 70 + +The causes of this disproportionate increase, so inimical to the true +interests of the country, are very manifest. + +A large proportion of the free inhabitants of the United States are +dependent upon their labor for subsistence. The forced, unnatural system +of slavery in some of the states renders the demand for free laborers +less urgent; they are not so readily and abundantly supplied with the +means of subsistence as those of their own class in the free states, and +as the necessaries of life diminish population also diminishes. + +There is yet another cause for the decline of the white population. In +the free states labor is reputable. The statesman, whose eloquence has +electrified a nation, does not disdain in the intervals of the public +service to handle the axe and the hoe. And the woman whose beauty, +talents, and accomplishments have won the admiration of all deems it no +degradation to "look well to her household." + +But the slave stamps with indelible ignominy the character of occupation. +It is a disgrace for a highborn Virginian or chivalrous Carolinian to +labor, side by side, with the low, despised, miserable black man. +Wretched must be the condition of the poorer classes of whites in a +slave-holding community! Compelled to perform the despised offices of +the slave, they can hardly rise above his level. They become the pariahs +of society. No wonder, then, that the tide of emigration flows from the +slave-cursed shores of the Atlantic to the free valleys of the West. + +In New England the labor of a farmer or mechanic is worth from $150 to +$200 per annum. That of a female from $50 to $100. Our entire +population, with the exception of those engaged in mercantile affairs, +the professional classes, and a very few moneyed idlers, are working men +and women. If that of the South were equally employed (and slavery +apart, there is no reason why they should not be), how large an addition +would be annually made to the wealth of the country? The truth is, a +very considerable portion of the national wealth produced by Northern +labor is taxed to defray the expenses of twenty-five representatives of +Southern property in Congress, and to maintain an army mainly for the +protection of the slave-master against the dangerous tendencies of that +property. + +In the early and better days of the Roman Republic, the ancient warriors +and statesmen cultivated their fields with their own hands; but so soon +as their agriculture was left to the slaves, it visibly declined, the +once fertile fields became pastures, and the inhabitants of that garden +of the world were dependent upon foreign nations for the necessaries of +life. The beautiful villages, once peopled by free contented laborers, +became tenantless, and, over the waste of solitude, we see, here and +there, at weary distances, the palaces of the master, contrasting +painfully with the wretched cottages and subterranean cells of the slave. +In speaking of the extraordinary fertility of the soil in the early times +of the Republic, Pliny inquires, "What was the cause of these abundant +harvests? It was this, that men of rank employed themselves in the +culture of the fields; whereas now it is left to wretches loaded with +fetters, who carry in their countenances the shameful evidence of their +slavery." + +And what was true in the days of the Roman is now written legibly upon +the soil of your own Virginia. A traveller in your state, in +contemplating the decline of its agriculture, has justly remarked that, +"if the miserable condition of the negro had left his mind for +reflection, he would laugh in his chains to see how slavery has stricken +the land with ugliness." + +Is the rapid increase of a population of slaves in itself no evil? In +all the slave states the increase of the slaves is vastly more rapid than +that of the whites or free blacks. When we recollect that they are under +no natural or moral restraint, careless of providing food or clothing for +themselves or their children; when, too, we consider that they are raised +as an article of profitable traffic, like the cattle of New England and +the hogs of Kentucky; that it is a matter of interest, of dollars and +cents, to the master that they should multiply as fast as possible, there +is surely nothing at all surprising in the increase of their numbers. +Would to heaven there were also nothing alarming! + +7. Because, by the terms of the national compact, the free and the slave +states are alike involved in the guilt of maintaining slavery, and the +citizens of the former are liable, at any moment, to be called upon to +aid the latter in suppressing, at the point of the bayonet, the +insurrection of the slaves. + +Slavery is, at the best, an unnatural state. And Nature, when her +eternal principles are violated, is perpetually struggling to restore +them to their first estate. + +All history, ancient and modern, is full of warning on this point. Need +I refer to the many revolts of the Roman and Grecian slaves, the bloody +insurrection of Etruria, the horrible servile wars of Sicily and Capua? +Or, to come down to later times, to France in the fourteenth century, +Germany in the sixteenth, to Malta in the last? Need I call to mind the +untold horrors of St. Domingo, when that island, under the curse of its +servile war, glowed redly in the view of earth and heaven,--an open hell? +Have our own peculiar warnings gone by unheeded,--the frequent slave +insurrections of the South? One horrible tragedy, gentlemen, must still +be fresh in your recollection,--Southampton, with its fired dwellings and +ghastly dead! Southampton, with its dreadful associations, of the death +struggle with the insurgents, the groans of the tortured negroes, the +lamentations of the surviving whites over woman in her innocence and +beauty, and childhood, and hoary age! + +"The hour of emancipation," said Thomas Jefferson, "is advancing in the +march of time. It will come. If not brought on by the generous energy +of our own minds, it will come by the bloody process of St. Domingo!" + +To the just and prophetic language of your own great statesman I have but +a few words to add. They shall be those of truth and soberness. + +We regard the slave system in your section of the country as a great +evil, moral and political,--an evil which, if left to itself for even a +few years longer, will give the entire South into the hands of the +blacks. + +The terms of the national compact compel us to consider more than two +millions of our fellow-beings as your property; not, indeed, morally, +really, de facto, but still legally your property! We acknowledge that +you have a power derived from the United States Constitution to hold this +"property," but we deny that you have any moral right to take advantage +of that power. For truth will not allow us to admit that any human law +or compact can make void or put aside the ordinance of the living God and +the eternal laws of Nature. + +We therefore hold it to be the duty of the people of the slave-holding +states to begin the work of emancipation now; that any delay must be +dangerous to themselves in time and eternity, and full of injustice to +their slaves and to their brethren of the free states. + +Because the slave has never forfeited his right to freedom, and the +continuance of his servitude is a continuance of robbery; and because, in +the event of a servile war, the people of the free states would be called +upon to take a part in its unutterable horrors. + +New England would obey that call, for she will abide unto death by the +Constitution of the land. Yet what must be the feelings of her citizens, +while engaged in hunting down like wild beasts their fellow-men--brutal +and black it may be, but still oppressed, suffering human beings, +struggling madly and desperately for their liberty, if they feel and know +that the necessity of so doing has resulted from a blind fatality on the +part of the oppressor, a reckless disregard of the warnings of earth and +heaven, an obstinate perseverance in a system founded and sustained by +robbery and wrong? + +All wars are horrible, wicked, inexcusable, and truly and solemnly has +Jefferson himself said that, in a contest of this kind, between the slave +and the master, "the Almighty has no attribute which could take side with +us." + +Understand us, gentlemen. We only ask to have the fearful necessity +taken away from us of sustaining the wretched policy of slavery by moral +influence or physical force. We ask alone to be allowed to wash our +hands of the blood of millions of your fellow-beings, the cry of whom is +rising up as a swift witness unto God against us. + +8. Because all the facts connected with the subject warrant us in a most +confident belief that a speedy and general emancipation might be made +with entire safety, and that the consequences of such an emancipation +would be highly beneficial to the planters of the South. + +Awful as may be their estimate in time and eternity, I will not, +gentlemen, dwell upon the priceless benefits of a conscience at rest, a +soul redeemed from the all-polluting influences of slavery, and against +which the cry of the laborer whose hire has been kept back by fraud does +not ascend. Nor will I rest the defence of my position upon the fact +that it can never be unsafe to obey the commands of God. These are the +old and common arguments of "fanatics" and "enthusiasts," melting away +like frost-work in the glorious sunshine of expediency and utility. In +the light of these modern luminaries, then, let us reason together. + +A long and careful examination of the subject will I think fully justify +me in advancing this general proposition. + +Wherever, whether in Europe, the East and West Indies, South America, or +in our own country, a fair experiment has been made of the comparative +expense of free and slave labor, the result has uniformly been favorable +to the former. + + (See Brougham's Colonial Policy. Hodgdon's Letter to Jean Baptiste + Say. Waleh's Brazil. Official Letter of Hon. Mr. Ward, from + Mexico. Dr. Dickson's Mitigation of Slavery. Franklin on The + Peopling of Countries. Ramsay's Essay. Botham's Sugar Cultivation + in Batavia. Marsden's History of Sumatra. Coxe's Travels. Dr. + Anderson's Observations on Slavery. Storch's Political Economy. + Adam Smith. J. Jeremies' Essays. Humboldt's Travels, etc., etc.) + +Here, gentlemen, the issue is tendered. Standing on your own ground of +expediency, I am ready to defend my position. + +I pass from the utility to the safety of emancipation. And here, +gentlemen, I shall probably be met at the outset with your supposed +consequences, bloodshed, rapine, promiscuous massacre! + +The facts, gentlemen! In God's name, bring out your facts! If slavery +is to cast over the prosperity of our country the thick shadow of an +everlasting curse, because emancipation is dreaded as a remedy worse than +the disease itself, let us know the real grounds of your fear. + +Do you find them in the emancipation of the South American Republics? In +Hayti? In the partial experiments of some of the West India Islands? +Does history, ancient or modern, justify your fears? Can you find any +excuse for them in the nature of the human mind, everywhere maddened by +injury and conciliated by kindness? No, gentlemen; the dangers of +slavery are manifest and real, all history lies open for your warning. +But the dangers of emancipation, of "doing justly and loving mercy," +exist only in your imaginations. You cannot produce one fact in +corroboration of your fears. You cannot point to the stain of a single +drop of any master's blood shed by the slave he has emancipated. + +I have now given some of our reasons for opposing slavery. In my next +letter I shall explain our method of opposition, and I trust I shall be +able to show that there is nothing "fanatical," nothing +"unconstitutional," and nothing unchristian in that method. + +In the mean time, gentlemen, I am your friend and well-wisher. + +HAVERHILL, MASS., 22d 7th Mo., 1833. + + + + + II. + +The abolitionists of the North have been grossly misrepresented. In +attacking the system of slavery, they have never recommended any measure +or measures conflicting with the Constitution of the United States. + +They have never sought to excite or encourage a spirit of rebellion among +the slaves: on the contrary, they would hold any such attempt, by +whomsoever made, in utter and stern abhorrence. + +All the leading abolitionists of my acquaintance are, from principle, +opposed to war of all kinds, believing that the benefits of no war +whatever can compensate for the sacrifice of one human life by violence. + +Consequently, they would be the first to deprecate any physical +interference with your slave system on the part of the general +government. + +They are, without exception, opposed to any political interposition of +the government, in regard to slavery as it exists in the states. For, +although they feel and see that the canker of the moral disease is +affecting all parts of the confederacy, they believe that the remedy lies +with yourselves alone. Any such interference they would consider +unlawful and unconstitutional; and the exercise of unconstitutional +power, although sanctioned by the majority of a republican government, +they believe to be a tyranny as monstrous and as odious as the despotism +of a Turkish Sultan. + +Having made this disclaimer on the part of myself and my friends, let me +inquire from whence this charge of advocating the interference of the +general government with the sovereign jurisdiction of the states has +arisen? Will you, gentlemen, will the able editors of the United States +Telegraph and the Columbian Telescope, explain? For myself, I have +sought in vain among the writings of our "Northern Enthusiasts," and +among the speeches of the Northern statesmen and politicians, for some +grounds for the accusation. + +The doctrine, such as it is, does not belong to us. I think it may be +traced home to the South, to Virginia, to her Convention of 1829, to the +speech of Ex-President Monroe, on the white basis question. + +"As to emancipation," said that distinguished son of your state, "if ever +that should take place, it cannot be done by the state; it must be done +by the Union." + +Again, "If emancipation can ever be effected, it can only be done with +the aid of the general government." + +Gentlemen, you are welcome to your doctrine. It has no advocates among +the abolitionists of New England. + +We aim to overthrow slavery by the moral influence of an enlightened +public sentiment; + +By a clear and fearless exposition of the guilt of holding property in +man; + +By analyzing the true nature of slavery, and boldly rebuking sin; + +By a general dissemination of the truths of political economy, in regard +to free and slave labor; + +By appeals from the pulpit to the consciences of men; + +By the powerful influence of the public press; + +By the formation of societies whose object shall be to oppose the +principle of slavery by such means as are consistent with our obligations +to law, religion, and humanity; + +By elevating, by means of education and sympathy, the character of the +free people of color among us. + +Our testimony against slavery is the same which has uniformly, and with +so much success, been applied to prevailing iniquity in all ages of the +world, the truths of divine revelation. + +Believing that there can be nothing in the Providence of God to which His +holy and eternal law is not strictly applicable, we maintain that no +circumstances can justify the slave-holder in a continuance of his +system. + +That the fact that this system did not originate with the present +generation is no apology for retaining it, inasmuch as crime cannot be +entailed; and no one is under a necessity of sinning because others have +done so before him; + +That the domestic slave-trade is as repugnant to the laws of God, and +should be as odious in the eyes of a Christian community, as the foreign; + +That the black child born in a slave plantation is not "an entailed +article of property;" and that the white man who makes of that child a +slave is a thief and a robber, stealing the child as the sea pirate stole +his father! + +We do not talk of gradual abolition, because, as Christians, we find no +authority for advocating a gradual relinquishment of sin. We say to +slaveholders, "Repent now, to-day, immediately;" just as we say to the +intemperate, "Break off from your vice at once; touch not, taste not, +handle not, from henceforth forever." + +Besides, the plan of gradual abolition has been tried in this country and +the West Indies, and found wanting. It has been in operation in our +slave states ever since the Declaration of Independence, and its results +are before the nation. Let us see. + +THE ABOLITIONISTS 79 + +In 1790 there were in the slave states south of the Potomac and the Ohio +20,415 free blacks. Their increase for the ten years following was at +the rate of sixty per cent., their number in 1800 being 32,604. In 1810 +there were 58,046, an increase of seventy-five per cent. This +comparatively large increase was, in a great measure, owing to the free +discussions going on in England and in this country on the subject of the +slave-trade and the rights of man. The benevolent impulse extended to +the slave-masters, and manumissions were frequent. But the salutary +impression died away; the hand of oppression closed again upon its +victims; and the increase for the period of twenty years, 1810 to 1830, +was only seventy-seven per cent., about one half of what it was in the +ten years from 1800 to 1810. And this is the practical result of the +much-lauded plan of gradual abolition. + +In 1790, in the states above mentioned, there were only 550,604 slaves, +but in 1830 there were 1,874,098! And this, too, is gradual abolition. + +"What, then!" perhaps you will ask, "do you expect to overthrow our whole +slave system at once? to turn loose to-day two millions of negroes?" + +No, gentlemen; we expect no such thing. Enough for us if in the spirit +of fraternal duty we point to your notice the commands of God; if we urge +you by every cherished remembrance of common sacrifices upon a common +altar, by every consideration of humanity, justice, and expediency, to +begin now, without a moment's delay, to break away from your miserable +system,--to begin the work of moral reformation, as God commands you to +begin, not as selfishness, or worldly policy, or short-sighted political +expediency, may chance to dictate. + +Such is our doctrine of immediate emancipation. A doctrine founded on +God's eternal truth, plain, simple, and perfect,--the doctrine of +immediate, unprocrastinated repentance applied to the sin of slavery. + +Of this doctrine, and of our plan for crrrying it into effect, I have +given an exposition, with the most earnest regard to the truth. Does +either embrace anything false, fanatical, or unconstitutional? Do they +afford a reasonable protext for your fierce denunciations of your +Northern brethren? Do they furnish occasion for your newspaper chivalry, +your stereotyped demonstrations of Southern magnanimity and Yankee +meanness?--things, let me say, unworthy of Virginians, degrading to +yourselves, insulting to us. + +Gentlemen, it is too late for Virginia, with all her lofty intellect and +nobility of feeling, to defend and advocate the principle of slavery. +The death-like silence which for nearly two centuries brooded over her +execrable system has been broken; light is pouring in upon the minds of +her citizens; truth is abroad, "searching out and overturning the lies of +the age." A moral reformation has been already awakened, and it cannot +now be drugged to sleep by the sophistries of detected sin. A thousand +intelligences are at work in her land; a thousand of her noblest hearts +are glowing with the redeeming spirit of that true philanthropy, which is +moving all the world. No, gentlemen; light is spreading from the hills +of Western Virginia to the extremest East. You cannot arrest its +progress. It is searching the consciences; it is exercising the reason; +it is appealing to the noblest characteristics of intelligent Virginians. +It is no foreign influence. From every abandoned plantation where the +profitless fern and thistle have sprung up under the heel of slavery; +from every falling mansion of the master, through whose windows the fox +may look out securely, and over whose hearth-stone the thin grass is +creeping, a warning voice is sinking deeply into all hearts not imbruted +by avarice, indolence, and the lust of power. + +Abolitionist as I am, the intellectual character of Virginia has no +warmer admirer than myself. Her great names, her moral trophies, the +glories of her early day, the still proud and living testimonials of her +mental power, I freely acknowledge and strongly appreciate. And, believe +me, it is with no other feelings than those of regret and heartfelt +sorrow that I speak plainly of her great error, her giant crime, a crime +which is visibly calling down upon her the curse of an offended Deity. +But I cannot forget that upon some of the most influential and highly +favored of her sons rests the responsibility at the present time of +sustaining this fearful iniquity. Blind to the signs of the times, +careless of the wishes of thousands of their white fellow-citizens and of +the manifold wrongs of the black man, they have dared to excuse, defend, +nay, eulogize, the black abominations of slavery. + +Against the tottering ark of the idol these strong men have placed their +shoulders. That ark must fall; that idol must be cast down; what, then, +will be the fate of their supporters? + +When the Convention of 1829 had gathered in its splendid galaxy of +talents the great names of Virginia, the friends of civil liberty turned +their eyes towards it in the earnest hope and confidence that it would +adopt some measures in regard to slavery worthy of the high character of +its members and of the age in which they lived. I need not say how deep +and bitter was our disappointment. Western Virginia indeed spoke on that +occasion, through some of her delegates, the words of truth and humanity. +But their counsels and warnings were unavailing; the majority turned away +to listen to the bewildering eloquence of Leigh and Upshur and Randolph, +as they desecrated their great intellects to the defence of that system +of oppression under which the whole land is groaning. The memorial of +the citizens of Augusta County, bearing the signatures of many slave- +holders, placed the evils of slavery in a strong light before the +convention. Its facts and arguments could only be arbitrarily thrust +aside and wantonly disregarded; they could not be disproved. + +"In a political point of view," says the memorial, "we esteem slavery an +evil greater than the aggregate of all the other evils which beset us, +and we are perfectly willing to bear our proportion of the burden of +removing it. We ask, further, What is the evil of any such alarm as our +proposition may excite in minds unnecessarily jealous compared with that +of the fatal catastrophe which ultimately awaits our country, and the +general depravation of manners which slavery has already produced and is +producing?" + +I cannot forbear giving one more extract from this paper. The +memorialists state their belief + +"That the labor of slaves is vastly less productive than that of freemen; +that it therefore requires a larger space to furnish subsistence for a +given number of the former than of the latter; that the employment of the +former necessarily excludes that of the latter; that hence our +population, white and black, averages seventeen, when it ought, and would +under other circumstances, average, as in New England, at least sixty to +a square mile; that the possession and management of slaves form a source +of endless vexation and misery in the house, and of waste and ruin on the +farm; that the youth of the country are growing up with a contempt of +steady industry as a low and servile thing, which contempt induces +idleness and all its attendant effeminacy, vice, and worthlessness; that +the waste of the products of the land, nay, of the land itself, is +bringing poverty on all its inhabitants; that this poverty and the +sparseness of population either prevent the institution of schools +throughout the country, or keep them in a most languid and inefficient +condition; and that the same causes most obviously paralyze all our +schemes and efforts for the useful improvement of the country." + +Gentlemen, you have only to look around you to know that this picture has +been drawn with the pencil of truth. What has made desolate and sterile +one of the loveliest regions of the whole earth? What mean the signs of +wasteful neglect, of long improvidence around you: the half-finished +mansion already falling into decay, the broken-down enclosures, the weed- +grown garden the slave hut open to the elements, the hillsides galled and +naked, the fields below them run over with brier and fern? Is all this +in the ordinary course of nature? Has man husbanded well the good gifts +of God, and are they nevertheless passing from him, by a process of +deterioration over which he has no control? No, gentlemen. For more +than two centuries the cold and rocky soil of New England has yielded its +annual tribute, and it still lies green and luxuriant beneath the sun of +our brief summer. The nerved and ever-exercised arm of free labor has +changed a landscape wild and savage as the night scenery of Salvator Rosa +into one of pastoral beauty,--the abode of independence and happiness. +Under a similar system of economy and industry, how would Virginia, rich +with Nature's prodigal blessings, have worn at this time over all her +territory the smiles of plenty, the charms of rewarded industry! What a +change would have been manifest in your whole character! Freemen in the +place of slaves, industry, reputable economy, a virtue, dissipation +despised, emigration unnecessary! + + (A late Virginia member of Congress described the Virginia slave- + holder as follows: "He is an Eastern Virginian whose good fortune it + has been to have been born wealthy, and to have become a profound + politician at twenty-one without study or labor. This individual, + from birth and habit, is above all labor and exertion. He never + moves a finger for any useful purpose; he lives on the labor of his + slaves, and even this labor he is too proud and indolent to direct + in person. While he is at his ease, a mercenary with a whip in his + hand drives his slaves in the field. Their dinner, consisting of a + few scraps and lean bones, is eaten in the burning sun. They have + no time to go to a shade and be refreshed such easement is reserved + for the horses"!--Speech of Hon. P. P. Doddridge in House of + Delegates, 1829.) + +All this, you will say, comes too late; the curse is upon you, the evil +in the vitals of your state, the desolation widening day by day. No, it +is not too late. There are elements in the Virginian character capable +of meeting the danger, extreme as it is, and turning it aside. Could you +but forget for a time partisan contest and unprofitable political +speculations, you might successfully meet the dangerous exigencies of +your state with those efficient remedies which the spirit of the age +suggests; you might, and that too without pecuniary loss, relinquish your +claims to human beings as slaves, and employ them as free laborers, under +such restraint and supervision as their present degraded condition may +render necessary. In the language of one of your own citizens, "it is +useless for you to attempt to linger on the skirts of the age which is +departed. The action of existing causes and principles is steady and +progressive. It cannot be retarded, unless you would blow out all the +moral lights around you; and if you refuse to keep up with it, you will +be towed in the wake, whether you will or not."--(Speech in Virginia +legislature, 1832.) + +The late noble example of the eloquent statesman of Roanoke, the +manumission of his slaves, speaks volumes to his political friends. In +the last hour of existence, when his soul was struggling from his broken +tenement, his latest effort was the confirmation of this generous act of +a former period. Light rest the turf upon him beneath his own +patrimonial oaks! The prayers of many hearts made happy by his +benevolence shall linger over his grave and bless it. + +Gentlemen, in concluding these letters, let me once more assure you that +I entertain towards you and your political friends none other than kindly +feelings. If I have spoken at all with apparent harshness, it has been +of principles rather than of men. But I deprecate no censure. Conscious +of the honest and patriotic motives which have prompted their avowal, I +cheerfully leave my sentiments to their fate. Despised and contemned as +they may be, I believe they cannot be gainsaid. Sustained by the truth +as it exists in Nature and Revelation, sanctioned by the prevailing +spirit of the age, they are yet destined to work out the political and +moral regeneration of our country. The opposition which they meet with +does not dishearten me. In the lofty confidence of John Milton, I +believe that "though all the winds of doctrine be let loose upon the +earth, so Truth be among them, we need not fear. Let her and Falsehood +grapple; whoever knew her to be put to the worst in a free and open +encounter?" + +HAVERHILL, MASS., 29th of 7th Mo., 1833. + + + + +LETTER TO SAMUEL E. SEWALL. + +HAVERHILL, 10th of 1st Mo., 1834. + +SAMUEL E. SEWALL, ESQ., +Secretary New England A. S. Society + +DEAR FRIEND,--I regret that circumstances beyond my control will not +allow of my attendance at the annual meeting of the New England Anti- +Slavery Society. + +I need not say to the members of that society that I am with them, heart +and soul, in the cause of abolition; the abolition not of physical +slavery alone, abhorrent and monstrous as it is, but of that intellectual +slavery, the bondage of corrupt and mistaken opinion, which has fettered +as with iron the moral energies and intellectual strength of New England. + +For what is slavery, after all, but fear,--fear, forcing mind and body +into unnatural action? And it matters little whether it be the terror of +the slave-whip on the body, or of the scourge of popular opinion upon the +inner man. + +We all know how often the representatives of the Southern division of the +country have amused themselves in Congress by applying the opprobrious +name of "slave" to the free Northern laborer. And how familiar have the +significant epithets of "white slave" and "dough-face" become! + +I fear these epithets have not been wholly misapplied. Have we not been +told here, gravely and authoritatively, by some of our learned judges, +divines, and politicians, that we, the free people of New England, have +no right to discuss the subject of slavery? Freemen, and no right to +suggest the duty or the policy of a practical adherence to the doctrines +of that immortal declaration upon which our liberties are founded! +Christians, enjoying perfect liberty of conscience, yet possessing no +right to breathe one whisper against a system of adultery and blood, +which is filling the whole land with abomination and blasphemy! And this +craven sentiment is echoed by the very men whose industry is taxed to +defray the expenses of twenty-five representatives of property, vested in +beings fashioned in the awful image of their Maker; by men whose hard +earnings aid in supporting a standing army mainly for the protection of +slaveholding indolence; by men who are liable at any moment to be called +from the field and workshop to put down by force the ever upward +tendencies of oppressed humanity, to aid the negro-breeder and the negro- +trader in the prosecution of a traffic most horrible in the eye of God, +to wall round with their bayonets two millions of colored Americans, +children of a common Father and heirs of a common eternity, while the +broken chain is riveted anew and the thrown-off fetter replaced. + +I am for the abolition of this kind of slavery. It must be accomplished +before we can hope to abolish the negro slavery of the country. The +people of the free states, with a perfect understanding of their own +rights and a sacred respect for the rights of others, must put their +strong shoulders to the work of moral reform, and our statesmen, orators, +and politicians will follow, floating as they must with the tendency of +the current, the mere indices of popular sentiment. They cannot be +expected to lead in this matter. They are but instruments in the hands +of the people for good or evil:-- + + "A breath can make them, as a breath has made." + +Be it our task to give tone and direction to these instruments; to turn +the tide of popular feeling into the pure channels of justice; to break +up the sinful silence of the nation; to bring the vaunted Christianity of +our age and country to the test of truth; to try the strength and purity +of our republicanism. If the Christianity we profess has not power to +pull down the strongholds of prejudice, and overcome hate, and melt the +heart of oppression, it is not of God. If our republicanism is based on +other foundation than justice and humanity, let it fall forever. + +No better evidence is needed of the suicidal policy of this nation than +the death-like silence on the subject of slavery which pervades its +public documents. Who that peruses the annual messages of the national +executive would, from their perusal alone, conjecture that such an evil +as slavery had existence among us? Have the people reflected upon the +cause of this silence? The evil has grown to be too monstrous to be +questioned. Its very magnitude has sealed the lips of the rulers. +Uneasily, and troubled with its dream of guilt, the nation sleeps on. +The volcano is beneath. God is above us. + +At every step of our peaceful and legal agitation of this subject we are +met with one grave objection. We are told that the system which we are +conscientiously opposing is recognized and protected by the Constitution. +For all the benefits of our fathers' patriotism--and they are neither few +nor trifling--let us be grateful to God and to their memories. But it +should not be forgotten that the same constitutional compact which now +sanctions slavery guaranteed protection for twenty years to the foreign +slave-trade. It threw the shield of its "sanctity" around the now +universally branded pirate. It legalized the most abhorrent system of +robbery which ever cursed the family of man. + +During those years of sinful compromise the crime of man-robbery less +atrocious than at present? Because the Constitution permitted, in that +single crime, the violation of all the commandments of God, was that +violation less terrible to earth or offensive to heaven? + +No one now defends that "constitutional" slavetrade. Loaded with the +curse of God and man, it stands amidst minor iniquities, like Satan in +Pandemonium, preeminent and monstrous in crime. + +And if the slave-trade has become thus odious, what must be the fate, +erelong, of its parent, slavery? If the mere consequence be thus +blackening under the execration of all the world, who shall measure the +dreadful amount of infamy which must finally settle on the cause itself? +The titled ecclesiastic and the ambitious statesman should have their +warning on this point. They should know that public opinion is steadily +turning to the light of truth. The fountains are breaking up around us, +and the great deep will soon be in motion. A stern, uncompromising, and +solemn spirit of inquiry is abroad. It cannot be arrested, and its +result may be easily foreseen. It will not long be popular to talk of +the legality of soul-murder, the constitutionality of man-robbery. + +One word in relation to our duty to our Southern brethren. If we detest +their system of slavery in our hearts, let us not play the hypocrite with +our lips. Let us not pay so poor a compliment to their understandings as +to suppose that we can deceive them into a compliance with our views of +justice by ambiguous sophistry, and overcome their sinful practices and +established prejudices by miserable stratagem. Let us not first do +violence to our consciences by admitting their moral right to property in +man, and then go to work like so many vagabond pedlers to cheat them out +of it. They have a right to complain of such treatment. It is mean, and +wicked, and dishonorable. Let us rather treat our Southern friends as +intelligent and high-minded men, who, whatever may be their faults, +despise unmanly artifice, and loathe cant, and abhor hypocrisy. +Connected with them, not by political ties alone, but by common +sacrifices and mutual benefits, let us seek to expostulate with them +earnestly and openly, to gain at least their confidence in our sincerity, +to appeal to their consciences, reason, and interests; and, using no +other weapons than those of moral truth, contend fearlessly with the evil +system they are cherishing. And if, in an immediate compliance with the +strict demands of justice, they should need our aid and sympathy, let us +open to them our hearts and our purses. But in the name of sincerity, +and for the love of peace and the harmony of the Union, let there be no +more mining and countermining, no more blending of apology with +denunciation, no more Janus-like systems of reform, with one face for the +South and another for the North. + +If we steadily adhere to the principles upon which we have heretofore +acted, if we present our naked hearts to the view of all, if we meet the +threats and violence of our misguided enemies with the bare bosom and +weaponless hand of innocence, may we not trust that the arm of our +Heavenly Father will be under us, to strengthen and support us? And +although we may not be able to save our country from the awful judgment +she is provoking, though the pillars of the Union fall and all the +elements of her greatness perish, still let it be our part to rally +around the standard of truth and justice, to wash our hands of evil, to +keep our own souls unspotted, and, bearing our testimony and lifting our +warning voices to the last, leave the event in the hands of a righteous +God. + + + + +JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. + + In 1837 Isaac Knapp printed Letters from John Quincy Adams to his + Constituents of the Twelfth Congressional District in Massachusetts, + to which is added his Speech in Congress, delivered February 9, + 1837, and the following stood as an introduction to the pamphlet. + +THE following letters have been published, within a few weeks, in the +Quincy (Mass.) 'Patriot'. Notwithstanding the great importance of the +subjects which they discuss, the intense interest which they are +calculated to awaken throughout this commonwealth and the whole country, +and the exalted reputation of their author as a profound statesman and +powerful writer, they are as yet hardly known beyond the limits of the +constituency to whom they are particularly addressed. The reason of this +is sufficiently obvious. John Quincy Adams belongs to neither of the +prominent political parties, fights no partisan battles, and cannot be +prevailed upon to sacrifice truth and principle upon the altar of party +expediency and interest. Hence neither party is interested in defending +his course, or in giving him an opportunity to defend himself. But +however systematic may be the efforts of mere partisan presses to +suppress and hold back from the public eye the powerful and triumphant +vindication of the Right of Petition, the graphic delineation of the +slavery spirit in Congress, and the humbling disclosure of Northern +cowardice and treachery, contained in these letters, they are destined to +exert a powerful influence upon the public mind. They will constitute +one of the most striking pages in the history of our times. They will be +read with avidity in the North and in the South, and throughout Europe. +Apart from the interest excited by the subjects under discussion, and +viewed only as literary productions, they may be ranked among the highest +intellectual efforts of their author. Their sarcasm is Junius-like,-- +cold, keen, unsparing. In boldness, directness, and eloquent appeal, +they will bear comparison with O'Connell's celebrated 'Letters to the +Reformers of Great Britain'. They are the offspring of an intellect +unshorn of its primal strength, and combining the ardor of youth with the +experience of age. + +The disclosure made in these letters of the slavery influence exerted in +Congress over the representatives of the free states, of the manner in +which the rights of freemen have been bartered for Southern votes, or +basely yielded to the threats of men educated in despotism, and stamped +by the free indulgence of unrestrained tyranny with the "odious +peculiarities" of slavery, is painful and humiliating in the extreme. It +will be seen that, in the great struggle for and against the Right of +Petition, an account of which is given in the following pages, their +author stood, in a great measure, alone and unsupported by his Northern +colleagues. On his "gray, discrowned head" the entire fury of slave- +holding arrogance and wrath was expended. He stood alone, beating back, +with his aged and single arm, the tide which would have borne down and +overwhelmed a less sturdy and determined spirit. + +We need not solicit for these letters, and the speech which accompanies +them, a thorough perusal. They deserve, and we trust will receive, a +circulation throughout the entire country. They will meet a cordial +welcome from every lover of human liberty, from every friend of justice +and the rights of man, irrespective of color or condition. The +principles which they defend, the sentiments which they express, are +those of Massachusetts, as recently asserted, almost unanimously, by her +legislature. In both branches of that body, during the discussion of the +subject of slavery and the right of petition, the course of the ex- +President was warmly and eloquently commended. Massachusetts will +sustain her tried and faithful representative; and the time is not far +distant when the best and worthiest citizens of the entire North will +proffer him their thanks for his noble defence of their rights as +freemen, and of the rights of the slave as a man. + + + + +THE BIBLE AND SLAVERY. + + From a review of a pro-slavery pamphlet by "Evangelicus" in the + Boston Emancipator in 1843. + +THE second part of the essay is occupied in proving that the slavery in +the Roman world, at the time of our Saviour, was similar in all essential +features to American slavery at the present day; and the third and +concluding part is devoted to an examination of the apostolical +directions to slaves and masters, as applicable to the same classes in +the United States. He thinks the command to give to servants that which +is just and equal means simply that the masters should treat their slaves +with equity, and that while the servant is to be profitable to the +master, the latter is bound in "a fair and equitable manner to provide +for the slave's subsistence and happiness." Although he professes to +believe that a faithful adherence to Scriptural injunctions on this point +would eventually terminate in the emancipation of the slaves, he thinks +it not necessary to inquire whether the New Testament does or does not +"tolerate slavery as a permanent institution"! + +From the foregoing synopsis it will be seen at once that whatever may +have been the motives of the writer, the effect of his publication, so +far as it is at all felt, will be to strengthen the oppressor in his +guilt, and hold him back from the performance of his immediate duty in +respect to his slaves, and to shield his conscience from the reproofs of +that class who, according to "Evangelicus," have "no personal +acquaintance with the actual domestic state or the social and political +connections of their Southern fellow-citizens." We look upon it only as +another vain attempt to strike a balance between Christian duty and +criminal policy, to reconcile Christ and Belial, the holy philanthropy of +Him who went about doing good with the most abhorrent manifestation of +human selfishness, lust, and hatred which ever provoked the divine +displeasure. There is a grave-stone coldness about it. The author +manifests as little feeling as if he were solving a question in algebra. +No sigh of sympathy breathes through its frozen pages for the dumb, +chained millions, no evidence of a feeling akin to that of Him who at the +grave of Lazarus + + "Wept, and forgot His power to save;" + +no outburst of that indignant reproof with which the Divine Master +rebuked the devourers of widows' houses and the oppressors of the poor is +called forth by the writer's stoical contemplation of the tyranny of his +"Christian brethren" at the South. + +"It is not necessary," says Evangelicus, "to inquire whether the New +Testament does not tolerate slavery as a permanent institution." And +this is said when the entire slave-holding church has sheltered its +abominations under the pretended sanction of the gospel; when slavery, +including within itself a violation of every command uttered amidst the +thunders of Sinai, a system which has filled the whole South with the +oppression of Egypt and the pollutions of Sodom, is declared to be an +institution of the Most High. With all due deference to the author, we +tell him, and we tell the church, North and South, that this question +must be met. Once more we repeat the solemn inquiry which has been +already made in our columns, "Is the Bible to enslave the world?" Has it +been but a vain dream of ours that the mission of the Author of the +gospel was to undo the heavy burdens, to open the prison doors, and to +break the yoke of the captive? Let Andover and Princeton answer. If the +gospel does sanction the vilest wrong which man can inflict upon his +fellow-man, if it does rivet the chains which humanity, left to itself, +would otherwise cast off, then, in humanity's name, let it perish forever +from the face of the earth. Let the Bible societies dissolve; let not +another sheet issue from their presses. Scatter not its leaves abroad +over the dark places of the earth; they are not for the healing of the +nations. Leave rather to the Persian his Zendavesta, to the Mussulman +his Koran. We repeat it, this question must be met. Already we have +heard infidelity exulting over the astute discoveries of bespectacled +theological professors, that the great Head of the Christian Church +tolerated the horrible atrocities of Roman slavery, and that His most +favored apostle combined slave-catching with his missionary labors. And +why should it not exult? Fouler blasphemy than this was never uttered. +A more monstrous libel upon the Divine Author of Christianity was never +propagated by Paine or Voltaire, Kneeland or Owen; and we are constrained +to regard the professor of theology or the doctor of divinity who tasks +his sophistry and learning in an attempt to show that the Divine Mind +looks with complacency upon chattel slavery as the most dangerous enemy +with which Christianity has to contend. The friends of pure and +undefiled religion must awake to this danger. The Northern church must +shake itself clean from its present connection with blasphemers and +slave-holders, or perish with them. + + + + +WHAT IS SLAVERY + + + Addressed to the Liberty Party Convention at New Bedford in + September, 1843. + +I HAVE just received your kind invitation to attend the meeting of the +Liberty Party in New Bedford on the 2d of next month. Believe me, it is +with no ordinary feelings of regret that I find myself under the +necessity of foregoing the pleasure of meeting with you on that occasion. +But I need not say to you, and through you to the convention, that you +have my hearty sympathy. + +I am with the Liberty Party because it is the only party in the country +which is striving openly and honestly to reduce to practice the great +truths which lie at the foundation of our republic: all men created +equal, endowed with rights inalienable; the security of these rights the +only just object of government; the right of the people to alter or +modify government until this great object is attained. Precious and +glorious truths! Sacred in the sight of their Divine Author, grateful +and beneficent to suffering humanity, essential elements of that ultimate +and universal government of which God is laying the strong and wide +foundations, turning and overturning, until He whose right it is shall +rule. The voice which calls upon us to sustain them is the voice of God. +In the eloquent language of the lamented Myron Holley, the man who first +lifted up the standard of the Liberty Party: "He calls upon us to sustain +these truths in the recorded voice of the holy of ancient times. He +calls us to sustain them in the sound as of many waters and mighty +thunderings rising from the fields of Europe, converted into one vast +Aceldama by the exertions of despots to suppress them; in the persuasive +history of the best thoughts and boldest deeds of all our brave, self- +sacrificing ancestors; in the tender, heart-reaching whispers of our +children, preparing to suffer or enjoy the future, as we leave it for +them; in the broken and disordered but moving accents of half our race +yet groping in darkness and galled by the chains of bondage. He calls +upon us to sustain them by the solemn and considerate use of all the +powers with which He has invested us." In a time of almost universal +political scepticism, in the midst of a pervading and growing unbelief in +the great principles enunciated in the revolutionary declaration, the +Liberty Party has dared to avow its belief in these truths, and to carry +them into action as far as it has the power. It is a protest against the +political infidelity of the day, a recurrence to first principles, a +summons once more to that deserted altar upon which our fathers laid +their offerings. + +It may be asked why it is that a party resting upon such broad principles +is directing its exclusive exertions against slavery. "Are there not +other great interests?" ask all manner of Whig and Democrat editors and +politicians. "Consider, for instance," say the Democrats, "the mighty +question which is agitating us, whether a 'Northern man with Southern +principles' or a Southern man with the principles of a Nero or Caligula +shall be President." "Or look at us," say the Whigs, "deprived of our +inalienable right to office by this Tyler-Calhoun administration. And +bethink you, gentlemen, how could your Liberty Party do better than to +vote with us for a man who, if he does hold some threescore of slaves, +and maintain that 'two hundred years of legislation has sanctioned and +sanctified negro slavery,' is, at the same time, the champion of Greek +liberty, and Polish liberty, and South American liberty, and, in short, +of all sorts of liberties, save liberty at home." + +Yes, friends, we have considered all this, and more, namely, that one +sixth part of our entire population are slaves, and that you, with your +subtreasuries and national banks, propose no relief for them. Nay, +farther, it is because both of you, when in power, have used your +authority to rivet closer the chains of unhappy millions, that we have +been compelled to abandon you, and form a liberty party having for its +first object the breaking of these chains. + +What is slavery? For upon the answer to this question must the Liberty +Party depend for its justification. + +The slave laws of the South tell us that it is the conversion of men into +articles of property; the transformation of sentient immortal beings into +"chattels personal." The principle of a reciprocity of benefits, which +to some extent characterizes all other relations, does not exist in that +of master and slave. The master holds the plough which turns the soil of +his plantation, the horse which draws it, and the slave who guides it by +one and the same tenure. The profit of the master is the great end of +the slave's existence. For this end he is fed, clothed, and prescribed +for in sickness. He learns nothing, acquires nothing, for himself. He +cannot use his own body for his own benefit. His very personality is +destroyed. He is a mere instrument, a means in the hands of another for +the accomplishment of an end in which his own interests are not regarded, +a machine moved not by his own will, but by another's. In him the awful +distinction between a person and a thing is annihilated: he is thrust +down from the place which God and Nature assigned him, from the equal +companionship of rational intelligence's,--a man herded with beasts, an +immortal nature classed with the wares of the merchant! + +The relations of parent and child, master and apprentice, government and +subject, are based upon the principle of benevolence, reciprocal +benefits, and the wants of human society; relations which sacredly +respect the rights and legacies which God has given to all His rational +creatures. But slavery exists only by annihilating or monopolizing these +rights and legacies. In every other modification of society, man's +personal ownership remains secure. He may be oppressed, deprived of +privileges, loaded with burdens, hemmed about with legal disabilities, +his liberties restrained. But, through all, the right to his own body +and soul remains inviolate. He retains his inherent, original possession +of himself. Even crime cannot forfeit it, for that law which destroys +his personality makes void its own claims upon him as a moral agent; and +the power to punish ceases with the accountability of the criminal. He +may suffer and die under the penalties of the law, but he suffers as a +man, he perishes as a man, and not as a thing. To the last moments of +his existence the rights of a moral agent are his; they go with him to +the grave; they constitute the ground of his accountability at the bar of +infinite justice,--rights fixed, eternal, inseparable; attributes of all +rational intelligence in time and eternity; the same in essence, and +differing in degree only, with those of the highest moral being, of God +himself. + +Slavery alone lays its grasp upon the right of personal ownership, that +foundation right, the removal of which uncreates the man; a right which +God himself could not take away without absolving the being thus deprived +of all moral accountability; and so far as that being is concerned, +making sin and holiness, crime and virtue, words without significance, +and the promises and sanctions of revelation, dreams. Hence, the +crowning horror of slavery, that which lifts it above all other +iniquities, is not that it usurps the prerogatives of Deity, but that it +attempts that which even He who has said, "All souls are mine," cannot +do, without breaking up the foundations of His moral government. Slavery +is, in fact, a struggle with the Almighty for dominion over His rational +creatures. It is leagued with the powers of darkness, in wresting man +from his Maker. It is blasphemy lifting brazen brow and violent hand to +heaven, attempting a reversal of God's laws. Man claiming the right to +uncreate his brother; to undo that last and most glorious work, which God +himself pronounced good, amidst the rejoicing hosts of heaven! Man +arrogating to himself the right to change, for his own selfish purposes, +the beautiful order of created existences; to pluck the crown of an +immortal nature, scarce lower than that of angels, from the brow of his +brother; to erase the God-like image and superscription stamped upon him +by the hand of his Creator, and to write on the despoiled and desecrated +tablet, "A chattel personal!" + +This, then, is slavery. Nature, with her thousand voices, cries out +against it. Against it, divine revelation launches its thunders. The +voice of God condemns it in the deep places of the human heart. The woes +and wrongs unutterable which attend this dreadful violation of natural +justice, the stripes, the tortures, the sunderings of kindred, the +desolation of human affections, the unchastity and lust, the toil +uncompensated, the abrogated marriage, the legalized heathenism, the +burial of the mind, are but the mere incidentals of the first grand +outrage, that seizure of the entire man, nerve, sinew, and spirit, which +robs him of his body, and God of his soul. These are but the natural +results and outward demonstrations of slavery, the crystallizations from +the chattel principle. + +It is against this system, in its active operation upon three millions of +our countrymen, that the Liberty Party is, for the present, directing all +its efforts. With such an object well may we be "men of one idea." Nor +do we neglect "other great interests," for all are colored and controlled +by slavery, and the removal of this disastrous influence would most +effectually benefit them. + +Political action is the result and immediate object of moral suasion on +this subject. Action, action, is the spirit's means of progress, its +sole test of rectitude, its only source of happiness. And should not +decided action follow our deep convictions of the wrong of slavery? +Shall we denounce the slave-holders of the states, while we retain our +slavery in the District of Columbia? Shall we pray that the God of the +oppressed will turn the hearts of "the rulers" in South Carolina, while +we, the rulers of the District, refuse to open the prisons and break up +the slave-markets on its ten miles square? God keep us from such +hypocrisy! Everybody now professes to be opposed to slavery. The +leaders of the two great political parties are grievously concerned lest +the purity of the antislavery enterprise will suffer in its connection +with politics. In the midst of grossest pro-slavery action, they are +full of anti-slavery sentiment. They love the cause, but, on the whole, +think it too good for this world. They would keep it sublimated, aloft, +out of vulgar reach or use altogether, intangible as Magellan's clouds. +Everybody will join us in denouncing slavery, in the abstract; not a +faithless priest nor politician will oppose us; abandon action, and +forsooth we can have an abolition millennium; the wolf shall lie down +with the lamb, while slavery in practice clanks, in derision, its three +millions of unbroken chains. Our opponents have no fear of the harmless +spectre of an abstract idea. They dread it only when it puts on the +flesh and sinews of a practical reality, and lifts its right arm in the +strength which God giveth to do as well as theorize. + +As honest men, then, we must needs act; let us do so as becomes men +engaged in a great and solemn cause. Not by processions and idle parades +and spasmodic enthusiasms, by shallow tricks and shows and artifices, can +a cause like ours be carried onward. Leave these to parties contending +for office, as the "spoils of victory." We need no disguises, nor false +pretences, nor subterfuges; enough for us to present before our fellow- +countrymen the holy truths of freedom, in their unadorned and native +beauty. Dark as the present may seem, let us remember with hearty +confidence that truth and right are destined to triumph. Let us blot out +the word "discouragement" from the anti-slavery vocabulary. Let the +enemies of freedom be discouraged; let the advocates of oppression +despair; but let those who grapple with wrong and falsehood, in the name +of God and in the power of His truth, take courage. Slavery must die. +The Lord hath spoken it. The vials of His hot displeasure, like those +which chastised the nations in the Apocalyptic vision, are smoking even +now, above its "habitations of cruelty." It can no longer be borne with +by Heaven. Universal humanity cries out against it. Let us work, then, +to hasten its downfall, doing whatsoever our hands find to do, "with all +our might." + +October, 1843. + + + + +DEMOCRACY AND SLAVERY. (1843.) + +THE great leader of American Democracy, Thomas Jefferson, was an +ultra-abolitionist in theory, while from youth to age a slave-holder in +practice. With a zeal which never abated, with a warmth which the frost +of years could not chill, he urged the great truths, that each man should +be the guardian of his own weal; that one man should never have absolute +control over another. He maintained the entire equality of the race, the +inherent right of self-ownership, the equal claim of all to a fair +participation in the enactment of the laws by which they are governed. + +He saw clearly that slavery, as it existed in the South and on his own +plantation, was inconsistent with this doctrine. His early efforts for +emancipation in Virginia failed of success; but he next turned his +attention to the vast northwestern territory, and laid the foundation of +that ordinance of 1787, which, like the flaming sword of the angel at the +gates of Paradise, has effectually guarded that territory against the +entrance of slavery. Nor did he stop here. He was the friend and +admirer of the ultra-abolitionists of revolutionary France; he warmly +urged his British friend, Dr. Price, to send his anti-slavery pamphlets +into Virginia; he omitted no opportunity to protest against slavery as +anti-democratic, unjust, and dangerous to the common welfare; and in his +letter to the territorial governor of Illinois, written in old age, he +bequeathed, in earnest and affecting language, the cause of negro +emancipation to the rising generation. "This enterprise," said he, "is +for the young, for those who can carry it forward to its consummation. +It shall have all my prayers, and these are the only weapons of an old +man." + +Such was Thomas Jefferson, the great founder of American Democracy, the +advocate of the equality of human rights, irrespective of any conditions +of birth, or climate, or color. His political doctrines, it is strange +to say, found their earliest recipients and most zealous admirers in the +slave states of the Union. The privileged class of slaveholders, whose +rank and station "supersede the necessity of an order of nobility," +became earnest advocates of equality among themselves--the democracy of +aristocracy. With the misery and degradation of servitude always before +them, in the condition of their own slaves, an intense love of personal +independence, and a haughty impatience of any control over their actions, +prepared them to adopt the democratic idea, so far as it might be applied +to their own order. Of that enlarged and generous democracy, the love, +not of individual freedom alone, but of the rights and liberties of all +men, the unselfish desire to give to others the privileges which all men +value for themselves, we are constrained to believe the great body of +Thomas Jefferson's slave-holding admirers had no adequate conception. +They were just such democrats as the patricians of Rome and the +aristocracy of Venice; lords over their own plantations, a sort of "holy +alliance" of planters, admitting and defending each other's divine right +of mastership. + +Still, in Virginia, Maryland, and in other sections of the slave states, +truer exponents and exemplifiers of the idea of democracy, as it existed +in the mind of Jefferson, were not wanting. In the debate on the +memorials presented to the first Congress of the United States, praying +for the abolition of slavery, the voice of the Virginia delegation in +that body was unanimous in deprecation of slavery as an evil, social, +moral, and political. In the Virginia constitutional convention--of 1829 +there were men who had the wisdom to perceive and the firmness to declare +that slavery was not only incompatible with the honor and prosperity of +the state, but wholly indefensible on any grounds which could be +consistently taken by a republican people. In the debate on the same +subject in the legislature in 1832, universal and impartial democracy +found utterance from eloquent lips. We might say as much of Kentucky, +the child of Virginia. But it remains true that these were exceptions to +the general rule. With the language of universal liberty on their lips, +and moved by the most zealous spirit of democratic propagandism, the +greater number of the slave-holders of the Union seem never to have +understood the true meaning, or to have measured the length and breadth +of that doctrine which they were the first to adopt, and of which they +have claimed all along to be the peculiar and chosen advocates. + +The Northern States were slow to adopt the Democratic creed. The +oligarchy of New England, and the rich proprietors and landholders of the +Middle States, turned with alarm and horror from the levelling doctrines +urged upon them by the "liberty and equality" propagandists of the South. +The doctrines of Virginia were quite as unpalatable to Massachusetts at +the beginning of the present century as those of Massachusetts now are to +the Old Dominion. Democracy interfered with old usages and time-honored +institutions, and threatened to plough up the very foundations of the +social fabric. It was zealously opposed by the representatives of New +England in Congress and in the home legislatures; and in many pulpits +hands were lifted to God in humble entreaty that the curse and bane of +democracy, an offshoot of the rabid Jacobinism of revolutionary France, +might not be permitted to take root and overshadow the goodly heritage of +Puritanism. The alarmists of the South, in their most fervid pictures of +the evils to be apprehended from the prevalence of anti-slavery doctrines +in their midst, have drawn nothing more fearful than the visions of such + + "Prophets of war and harbingers of ill" + +as Fisher Ames in the forum and Parish in the desk, when contemplating +the inroads of Jeffersonian democracy upon the politics, religion, and +property of the North. + +But great numbers of the free laborers of the Northern States, the +mechanics and small farmers, took a very different view of the matter. +The doctrines of Jefferson were received as their political gospel. It +was in vain that federalism denounced with indignation the impertinent +inconsistency of slave-holding interference in behalf of liberty in the +free states. Come the doctrine from whom it might, the people felt it to +be true. State after state revolted from the ranks of federalism, and +enrolled itself on the side of democracy. The old order of things was +broken up; equality before the law was established, religious tests and +restrictions of the right of suffrage were abrogated. Take +Massachusetts, for example. There the resistance to democratic +principles was the most strenuous and longest continued. Yet, at this +time, there is no state in the Union more thorough in its practical +adoption of them. No property qualifications or religious tests prevail; +all distinctions of sect, birth, or color, are repudiated, and suffrage +is universal. The democracy, which in the South has only been held in a +state of gaseous abstraction, hardened into concrete reality in the cold +air of the North. The ideal became practical, for it had found lodgment +among men who were accustomed to act out their convictions and test all +their theories by actual experience. + +While thus making a practical application of the new doctrine, the people +of the free states could not but perceive the incongruity of democracy +and slavery. + +Selleck Osborn, who narrowly escaped the honor of a Democratic martyr in +Connecticut, denounced slave-holding, in common with other forms of +oppression. Barlow, fresh from communion with Gregoire, Brissot, and +Robespierre, devoted to negro slavery some of the most vigorous and +truthful lines of his great poem. Eaton, returning from his romantic +achievements in Tunis for the deliverance of white slaves, improved the +occasion to read a lecture to his countrymen on the inconsistency and +guilt of holding blacks in servitude. In the Missouri struggle of 1819- +20, the people of the free states, with a few ignoble exceptions, took +issue with the South against the extension of slavery. Some ten years +later, the present antislavery agitation commenced. It originated, +beyond a question, in the democratic element. With the words of +Jefferson on their lips, young, earnest, and enthusiastic men called the +attention of the community to the moral wrong and political reproach of +slavery. In the name and spirit of democracy, the moral and political +powers of the people were invoked to limit, discountenance, and put an +end to a system so manifestly subversive of its foundation principles. +It was a revival of the language of Jefferson and Page and Randolph, an +echo of the voice of him who penned the Declaration of Independence and +originated the ordinance of 1787. + +Meanwhile the South had wellnigh forgotten the actual significance of the +teachings of its early political prophets, and their renewal in the shape +of abolitionism was, as might have been expected, strange and unwelcome. +Pleasant enough it had been to hold up occasionally these democratic +abstractions for the purpose of challenging the world's admiration and +cheaply acquiring the character of lovers of liberty and equality. +Frederick of Prussia, apostrophizing the shades of Cato and Brutus, + + "Vous de la liberte heros que je revere," + +while in the full exercise of his despotic power, was quite as consistent +as these democratic slaveowners, whose admiration of liberty increased in +exact ratio with its distance from their own plantations. They had not +calculated upon seeing their doctrine clothed with life and power, a +practical reality, pressing for application to their slaves as well as to +themselves. They had not taken into account the beautiful ordination of +Providence, that no man can vindicate his own rights, without directly or +impliedly including in that vindication the rights of all other men. The +haughty and oppressive barons who wrung from their reluctant monarch the +Great Charter at Runnymede, acting only for themselves and their class, +little dreamed of the universal application which has since been made of +their guaranty of rights and liberties. As little did the nobles of the +parliament of Paris, when strengthening themselves by limiting the kingly +prerogative, dream of the emancipation of their own serfs, by a +revolution to which they were blindly giving the first impulse. God's +truth is universal; it cannot be monopolized by selfishness. + + + + +THE TWO PROCESSIONS. (1844.) + + "Look upon this picture, and on this." HAMLET. + +CONSIDERING that we have a slave population of nearly three millions, and +that in one half of the states of the Republic it is more hazardous to +act upon the presumption that "all men are created free and equal" than +it would be in Austria or Russia, the lavish expression of sympathy and +extravagant jubilation with which, as a people, we are accustomed to +greet movements in favor of freedom abroad are not a little remarkable. +We almost went into ecstasies over the first French revolution; we filled +our papers with the speeches of orator Hunt and the English radicals; we +fraternized with the United Irishmen; we hailed as brothers in the cause +of freedom the very Mexicans whom we have since wasted with fire and +sword; our orators, North and South, grew eloquent and classic over the +Greek and Polish revolutions. In short, long ere this, if the walls of +kingcraft and despotism had been, like those of Jericho, destined to be +overthrown by sound, our Fourth of July cannon-shootings and bell- +ringings, together with our fierce, grandiloquent speech-makings in and +out of Congress, on the occasions referred to, would have left no stone +upon another. + +It is true that an exception must be made in the case of Hayti. We fired +no guns, drank no toasts, made no speeches in favor of the establishment +of that new republic in our neighborhood. The very mention of the +possibility that Haytien delegates might ask admittance to the congress +of the free republics of the New World at Panama "frightened from their +propriety" the eager propagandists of republicanism in the Senate, and +gave a death-blow to their philanthropic projects. But as Hayti is a +republic of blacks who, having revolted from their masters as well as +from the mother country, have placed themselves entirely without the pale +of Anglo-Saxon sympathy by their impertinent interference with the +monopoly of white liberty, this exception by no means disproves the +general fact, that in the matter of powder-burning, bell-jangling, +speech-making, toast-drinking admiration of freedom afar off and in the +abstract we have no rivals. The caricature of our "general sympathizers" +in Martin Chuzzlewit is by no means a fancy sketch. + +The news of the revolution of the three days in Paris, and the triumph of +the French people over Charles X. and his ministers, as a matter of +course acted with great effect upon our national susceptibility. We all +threw up our hats in excessive joy at the spectacle of a king dashed down +headlong from his throne and chased out of his kingdom by his long- +suffering and oppressed subjects. We took half the credit of the +performance to ourselves, inasmuch as Lafayette was a principal actor in +it. Our editors, from Passamaquoddy to the Sabine, indited paragraphs +for a thousand and one newspapers, congratulating the Parisian patriots, +and prophesying all manner of evil to holy alliances, kings, and +aristocracies. The National Intelligencer for September 27, 1830, +contains a full account of the public rejoicings of the good people of +Washington on the occasion. Bells were rung in all the steeples, guns +were fired, and a grand procession was formed, including the President of +the United States, the heads of departments, and other public +functionaries. Decorated with tricolored ribbons, and with tricolored +flags mingling with the stripes and stars over their heads, and gazed +down upon by bright eyes from window and balcony, the "general +sympathizers" moved slowly and majestically through the broad avenue +towards the Capitol to celebrate the revival of French liberty in a +manner becoming the chosen rulers of a free people. + +What a spectacle was this for the representatives of European kingcraft +at our seat of government! How the titled agents of Metternich and +Nicholas must have trembled, in view of this imposing demonstration, for +the safety of their "peculiar institutions!" + +Unluckily, however, the moral effect of this grand spectacle was marred +somewhat by the appearance of another procession, moving in a contrary +direction. It was a gang of slaves! Handcuffed in pairs, with the +sullen sadness of despair in their faces, they marched wearily onward to +the music of the driver's whip and the clanking iron on their limbs. +Think of it! Shouts of triumph, rejoicing bells, gay banners, and +glittering cavalcades, in honor of Liberty, in immediate contrast with +men and women chained and driven like cattle to market! The editor of +the American Spectator, a paper published at Washington at that time, +speaking of this black procession of slavery, describes it as "driven +along by what had the appearance of a man on horseback." The miserable +wretches who composed it were doubtless consigned to a slave-jail to +await their purchase and transportation to the South or Southwest; and +perhaps formed a part of that drove of human beings which the same editor +states that he saw on the Saturday following, "males and females chained +in couples, starting from Robey's tavern, on foot, for Alexandria, to +embark on board a slave-ship." + +At a Virginia camp-meeting, many years ago, one of the brethren, +attempting an exhortation, stammered, faltered, and finally came to a +dead stand. "Sit down, brother," said old Father Kyle, the one-eyed +abolition preacher; "it's no use to try; you can't preach with twenty +negroes sticking in your throat!" It strikes us that our country is very +much in the condition of the poor confused preacher at the camp-meeting. +Slavery sticks in its throat, and spoils its finest performances, +political and ecclesiastical; confuses the tongues of its evangelical +alliances; makes a farce of its Fourth of July celebrations; and, as in +the case of the grand Washington procession of 1830, sadly mars the +effect of its rejoicings in view of the progress of liberty abroad. +There is a stammer in all our exhortations; our moral and political +homilies are sure to run into confusions and contradictions; and the +response which comes to us from the nations is not unlike that of Father +Kyle to the planter's attempt at sermonizing: "It's no use, brother +Jonathan; you can't preach liberty with three millions of slaves in your +throat!" + + + + +A CHAPTER OF HISTORY. (1844.) + +THE theory which a grave and learned Northern senator has recently +announced in Congress, that slavery, like the cotton-plant, is confined +by natural laws to certain parallels of latitude, beyond which it can by +no possibility exist, however it may have satisfied its author and its +auditors, has unfortunately no verification in the facts of the case. +Slavery is singularly cosmopolitan in its habits. The offspring of +pride, and lust, and avarice, it is indigenous to the world. Rooted in +the human heart, it defies the rigors of winter in the steppes of Tartary +and the fierce sun of the tropics. It has the universal acclimation of +sin. + +The first account we have of negro slaves in New England is from the pen +of John Josselyn. Nineteen years after the landing at Plymouth, this +interesting traveller was for some time the guest of Samuel Maverick, who +then dwelt, like a feudal baron, in his fortalice on Noddle's Island, +surrounded by retainers and servants, bidding defiance to his Indian +neighbors behind his strong walls, with "four great guns" mounted +thereon, and "giving entertainment to all new-comers gratis." + +"On the 2d of October, 1639, about nine o'clock in the morning, Mr. +Maverick's negro woman," says Josselyn, "came to my chamber, and in her +own country language and tune sang very loud and shrill. Going out to +her, she used a great deal of respect towards me, and would willingly +have expressed her grief in English had she been able to speak the +language; but I apprehended it by her countenance and deportment. +Whereupon I repaired to my host to learn of him the cause, and resolved +to entreat him in her behalf; for I had understood that she was a queen +in her own country, and observed a very dutiful and humble garb used +towards her by another negro, who was her maid. Mr. Maverick was +desirous to have a breed of negroes; and therefore, seeing she would not +yield by persuasions to company with a negro young man he had in his +house, he commanded him, willed she, nilled she, to go to her bed, which +was no sooner done than she thrust him out again. This she took in high +disdain beyond her slavery; and this was the cause of her grief." + +That the peculiar domestic arrangements and unfastidious economy of this +slave-breeding settler were not countenanced by the Puritans of that +early time we have sufficient evidence. It is but fair to suppose, from +the silence of all other writers of the time with respect to negroes and +slaves, that this case was a marked exception to the general habits and +usage of the Colonists. At an early period a traffic was commenced +between the New England Colonies and that of Barbadoes; and it is not +improbable that slaves were brought to Boston from that island. The +laws, however, discouraged their introduction and purchase, giving +freedom to all held to service at the close of seven years. + +In 1641, two years after Josselyn's adventure on Noddle's Island, the +code of laws known by the name of the Body of Liberties was adopted by +the Colony. It was drawn up by Nathaniel Ward, the learned and ingenious +author of the 'Simple Cobbler of Agawarn', the earliest poetical satire +of New England. One of its provisions was as follows:-- + +"There shall be never any bond slaverie, villainage, or captivitie +amongst us, unless it be lawfull captives taken in just warres and such +strangers as willingly sell themselves or are sold to us. And these +shall have all the liberties and Christian usages which the law of God +established in Israel doth morally require." + +In 1646, Captain Smith, a Boston church-member, in connection with one +Keeser, brought home two negroes whom he obtained by the surprise and +burning of a negro village in Africa and the massacre of many of its +inhabitants. Sir Richard Saltonstall, one of the assistants, presented a +petition to the General Court, stating the outrage thereby committed as +threefold in its nature, namely murder, man-stealing, and Sabbath- +breaking; inasmuch as the offence of "chasing the negers, as aforesayde, +upon the Sabbath day (being a servile work, and such as cannot be +considered under any other head) is expressly capital by the law of God;" +for which reason he prays that the offenders may be brought to justice, +"soe that the sin they have committed may be upon their own heads and not +upon ourselves." + +Upon this petition the General Court passed the following order, +eminently worthy of men professing to rule in the fear and according to +the law of God,--a terror to evil-doers, and a praise to them that do +well:-- + +"The General Court, conceiving themselves bound by the first opportunity +to bear witness against the heinous and crying sin of man-stealing, as +also to prescribe such timely redress for what has passed, and such a law +for the future as may sufficiently deter all others belonging to us to +have to do in such vile and odious courses, justly abhorred of all good +and just men, do order that the negro interpreter, and others unlawfully +taken, be by the first opportunity, at the charge of the country for the +present, sent to his native country, Guinea, and a letter with him of the +indignation of the Court thereabout, and justice thereof, desiring our +honored Governor would please put this order in execution." + +There is, so far as we know, no historical record of the actual return of +these stolen men to their home. A letter is extant, however, addressed +in behalf of the General Court to a Mr. Williams on the Piscataqua, by +whom one of the negroes had been purchased, requesting him to send the +man forthwith to Boston, that he may be sent home, "which this Court do +resolve to send back without delay." + +Three years after, in 1649, the following law was placed upon the +statute-book of the Massachusetts Colony:-- + +"If any man stealeth a man, or mankind, he shall surely be put to death." + +It will thus be seen that these early attempts to introduce slavery into +New England were opposed by severe laws and by that strong popular +sentiment in favor of human liberty which characterized the Christian +radicals who laid the foundations of the Colonies. It was not the rigor +of her Northern winter, nor the unkindly soil of Massachusetts, which +discouraged the introduction of slavery in the first half-century of her +existence as a colony. It was the Puritan's recognition of the +brotherhood of man in sin, suffering, and redemption, his estimate of the +awful responsibilities and eternal destinies of humanity, his hatred of +wrong and tyranny, and his stern sense of justice, which led him to +impose upon the African slave-trader the terrible penalty of the Mosaic +code. + +But that brave old generation passed away. The civil contentions in the +mother country drove across the seas multitudes of restless adventurers +and speculators. The Indian wars unsettled and demoralized the people. +Habits of luxury and the greed of gain took the place of the severe self- +denial and rigid virtues of the fathers. Hence we are not surprised to +find that Josselyn, in his second visit to New England, some twenty-five +years after his first, speaks of the great increase of servants and +negroes. In 1680 Governor Bradstreet, in answer to the inquiries of his +Majesty's Privy Council, states that two years before a vessel from +Madagasca "brought into the Colony betwixt forty and fifty negroes, +mostly women and children, who were sold at a loss to the owner of the +vessel." "Now and then," he continues, "two or three negroes are brought +from Barbadoes and other of his Majesty's plantations and sold for twenty +pounds apiece; so that there may be within the government about one +hundred or one hundred and twenty, and it may be as many Scots, brought +hither and sold for servants in the time of the war with Scotland, and +about half as many Irish." + +The owning of a black or white slave, or servant, at this period was +regarded as an evidence of dignity and respectability; and hence +magistrates and clergymen winked at the violation of the law by the +mercenary traders, and supplied themselves without scruple. Indian +slaves were common, and are named in old wills, deeds, and inventories, +with horses, cows, and household furniture. As early as the year 1649 we +find William Hilton, of Newbury, sells to George Carr, "for one quarter +part of a vessel, James, my Indian, with all the interest I have in him, +to be his servant forever." Some were taken in the Narragansett war and +other Indian wars; others were brought from South Carolina and the +Spanish Main. It is an instructive fact, as illustrating the retributive +dealings of Providence, that the direst affliction of the Massachusetts +Colony--the witchcraft terror of 1692--originated with the Indian Tituba, +a slave in the family of the minister of Danvers. + +In the year 1690 the inhabitants of Newbury were greatly excited by the +arrest of a Jerseyman who had been engaged in enticing Indians and +negroes to leave their masters. He was charged before the court with +saying that "the English should be cut off and the negroes set free." +James, a negro slave, and Joseph, an Indian, were arrested with him. +Their design was reported to be, to seize a vessel in the port and escape +to Canada and join the French, and return and lay waste and plunder their +masters. They were to come back with five hundred Indians and three +hundred Canadians; and the place of crossing the Merrimac River, and of +the first encampment on the other side, were even said to be fixed upon. +When we consider that there could not have been more than a score of +slaves in the settlement, the excitement into which the inhabitants were +thrown by this absurd rumor of conspiracy seems not very unlike that of a +convocation of small planters in a backwoods settlement in South Carolina +on finding an anti-slavery newspaper in their weekly mail bag. + +In 1709 Colonel Saltonstall, of Haverhill, had several negroes, and among +them a high-spirited girl, who, for some alleged misdemeanor, was +severely chastised. The slave resolved upon revenge for her injury, and +soon found the means of obtaining it. The Colonel had on hand, for +service in the Indian war then raging, a considerable store of gunpowder. +This she placed under the room in which her master and mistress slept, +laid a long train, and dropped a coal on it. She had barely time to +escape to the farm-house before the explosion took place, shattering the +stately mansion into fragments. Saltonstall and his wife were carried on +their bed a considerable distance, happily escaping serious injury. Some +soldiers stationed in the house were scattered in all directions; but no +lives were lost. The Colonel, on recovering from the effects of his +sudden overturn, hastened to the farm-house and found his servants all up +save the author of the mischief, who was snug in bed and apparently in a +quiet sleep. + +In 1701 an attempt was made in the General Court of Massachusetts to +prevent the increase of slaves. Judge Sewall soon after published a +pamphlet against slavery, but it seems with little effect. Boston +merchants and ship-owners became, to a considerable extent, involved in +the slave-trade. Distilleries, established in that place and in Rhode +Island, furnished rum for the African market. The slaves were usually +taken to the West Indies, although occasionally part of a cargo found its +way to New England, where the wholesome old laws against man-stealing had +become a dead letter on the statute-book. + +In 1767 a bill was brought before the Legislature of Massachusetts to +prevent "the unwarrantable and unnatural custom of enslaving mankind." +The Council of Governor Bernard sent it back to the House greatly changed +and curtailed, and it was lost by the disagreement of the two branches. +Governor Bernard threw his influence on the side of slavery. In 1774 a +bill prohibiting the traffic in slaves passed both Houses; but Governor +Hutchinson withheld his assent and dismissed the Legislature. The +colored men sent a deputation of their own to the Governor to solicit his +consent to the bill; but he told them his instructions forbade him. A +similar committee waiting upon General Gage received the same answer. + +In the year 1770 a servant of Richard Lechmere, of Cambridge, stimulated +by the general discussion of the slavery question and by the advice of +some of the zealous advocates of emancipation, brought an action against +his master for detaining him in bondage. The suit was decided in his +favor two years before the similar decision in the case of Somerset in +England. The funds necessary for carrying on this suit were raised among +the blacks themselves. Other suits followed in various parts of the +Province; and the result was, in every instance, the freedom of the +plaintiff. In 1773 Caesar Hendrick sued his master, one Greenleaf, of +Newburyport, for damages, laid at fifty pounds, for holding him as a +slave. The jury awarded him his freedom and eighteen pounds. + +According to Dr. Belknap, whose answers to the queries on the subject, +propounded by Judge Tucker, of Virginia, have furnished us with many of +the facts above stated, the principal grounds upon which the counsel of +the masters depended were, that the negroes were purchased in open +market, and included in the bills of sale like other property; that +slavery was sanctioned by usage; and, finally, that the laws of the +Province recognized its existence by making masters liable for the +maintenance of their slaves, or servants. + +On the part of the blacks, the law and usage of the mother country, +confirmed by the Great Charter, that no man can be deprived of his +liberty but by the judgment of his peers, were effectually pleaded. The +early laws of the Province prohibited slavery, and no subsequent +legislation had sanctioned it; for, although the laws did recognize its +existence, they did so only to mitigate and modify an admitted evil. + +The present state constitution was established in 1780. The first +article of the Bill of Rights prohibited slavery by affirming the +foundation truth of our republic, that "all men are born free and equal." +The Supreme Court decided in 1783 that no man could hold another as +property without a direct violation of that article. + +In 1788 three free black citizens of Boston were kidnapped and sold into +slavery in one of the French islands. An intense excitement followed. +Governor Hancock took efficient measures for reclaiming the unfortunate +men. The clergy of Boston petitioned the Legislature for a total +prohibition of the foreign slave-trade. The Society of Friends, and the +blacks generally, presented similar petitions; and the same year an act +was passed prohibiting the slave-trade and granting relief to persons +kidnapped or decoyed out of the Commonwealth. The fear of a burden to +the state from the influx of negroes from abroad led the Legislature, in +connection with this law, to prevent those who were not citizens of the +state or of other states from gaining a residence. + +The first case of the arrest of a fugitive slave in Massachusetts under +the law of 1793 took place in Boston soon after the passage of the law. +It is the case to which President Quincy alludes in his late letter +against the fugitive slave law. The populace at the trial aided the +slave to escape, and nothing further was done about it. + +The arrest of George Latimer as a slave, in Boston, and his illegal +confinement in jail, in 1842, led to the passage of the law of 1843 for +the "protection of personal liberty," prohibiting state officers from +arresting or detaining persons claimed as slaves, and the use of the +jails of the Commonwealth for their confinement. This law was strictly +in accordance with the decision of the supreme judiciary, in the case of +Prigg vs. The State of Pennsylvania, that the reclaiming of fugitives was +a matter exclusively belonging to the general government; yet that the +state officials might, if they saw fit, carry into effect the law of +Congress on the subject, "unless prohibited by state legislation." + +It will be seen by the facts we have adduced that slavery in +Massachusetts never had a legal existence. The ermine of the judiciary +of the Puritan state has never been sullied by the admission of its +detestable claims. It crept into the Commonwealth like other evils and +vices, but never succeeded in clothing itself with the sanction and +authority of law. It stood only upon its own execrable foundation of +robbery and wrong. + +With a history like this to look back upon, is it strange that the people +of Massachusetts at the present day are unwilling to see their time- +honored defences of personal freedom, the good old safeguards of Saxon +liberty, overridden and swept away after the summary fashion of "the +Fugitive Slave Bill;" that they should loathe and scorn the task which +that bill imposes upon them of aiding professional slave-hunters in +seizing, fettering, and consigning to bondage men and women accused only +of that which commends them to esteem and sympathy, love of liberty and +hatred of slavery; that they cannot at once adjust themselves to +"constitutional duties" which in South Carolina and Georgia are reserved +for trained bloodhounds? Surely, in view of what Massachusetts has been, +and her strong bias in favor of human freedom, derived from her great- +hearted founders, it is to be hoped that the Executive and Cabinet at +Washington will grant her some little respite, some space for turning, +some opportunity for conquering her prejudices, before letting loose the +dogs of war upon her. Let them give her time, and treat with forbearance +her hesitation, qualms of conscience, and wounded pride. Her people, +indeed, are awkward in the work of slave-catching, and, it would seem, +rendered but indifferent service in a late hunt in Boston. Whether they +would do better under the surveillance of the army and navy of the United +States is a question which we leave with the President and his Secretary +of State. General Putnam once undertook to drill a company of Quakers, +and instruct them, by force of arms, in the art and mystery of fighting; +but not a single pair of drab-colored breeches moved at his "forward +march;" not a broad beaver wheeled at his word of command; no hand +unclosed to receive a proffered musket. Patriotic appeal, hard swearing, +and prick of bayonet had no effect upon these impracticable raw recruits; +and the stout general gave them up in despair. We are inclined to +believe that any attempt on the part of the Commander-in-chief of our +army and navy to convert the good people of Massachusetts into expert +slave-catchers, under the discipline of West Point and Norfolk, would +prove as idle an experiment as that of General Putnam upon the Quakers. + + + + +THOMAS CARLYLE ON THE SLAVE-QUESTION. (1846.) + +A LATE number of Fraser's Magazine contains an article bearing the +unmistakable impress of the Anglo-German peculiarities of Thomas Carlyle, +entitled, 'An Occasional Discourse on the Negro Question', which would be +interesting as a literary curiosity were it not in spirit and tendency so +unspeakably wicked as to excite in every rightminded reader a feeling of +amazement and disgust. With a hard, brutal audacity, a blasphemous +irreverence, and a sneering mockery which would do honor to the devil of +Faust, it takes issue with the moral sense of mankind and the precepts of +Christianity. Having ascertained that the exports of sugar and spices +from the West Indies have diminished since emancipation,--and that the +negroes, having worked, as they believed, quite long enough without +wages, now refuse to work for the planters without higher pay than the +latter, with the thriftless and evil habits of slavery still clinging to +them, can afford to give,--the author considers himself justified in +denouncing negro emancipation as one of the "shams" which he was +specially sent into this world to belabor. Had he confned himself to +simple abuse and caricature of the self-denying and Christian +abolitionists of England--"the broad-brimmed philanthropists of Exeter +Hall"--there would have been small occasion for noticing his splenetic +and discreditable production. Doubtless there is a cant of philanthropy +--the alloy of human frailty and folly--in the most righteous reforms, +which is a fair subject for the indignant sarcasm of a professed hater of +shows and falsities. Whatever is hollow and hypocritical in politics, +morals, or religion, comes very properly within the scope of his mockery, +and we bid him Godspeed in plying his satirical lash upon it. Impostures +and frauds of all kinds deserve nothing better than detection and +exposure. Let him blow them up to his heart's content, as Daniel did the +image of Bell and the Dragon. + +But our author, in this matter of negro slavery, has undertaken to apply +his explosive pitch and rosin, not to the affectation of humanity, but to +humanity itself. He mocks at pity, scoffs at all who seek to lessen the +amount of pain and suffering, sneers at and denies the most sacred +rights, and mercilessly consigns an entire class of the children of his +Heavenly Father to the doom of compulsory servitude. He vituperates the +poor black man with a coarse brutality which would do credit to a +Mississippi slave-driver, or a renegade Yankee dealer in human cattle on +the banks of the Potomac. His rhetoric has a flavor of the slave-pen and +auction-block, vulgar, unmanly, indecent, a scandalous outrage upon good +taste and refined feeling, which at once degrades the author and insults +his readers. + +He assumes (for he is one of those sublimated philosophers who reject the +Baconian system of induction and depend upon intuition without recourse +to facts and figures) that the emancipated class in the West India +Islands are universally idle, improvident, and unfit for freedom; that +God created them to be the servants and slaves of their "born lords," the +white men, and designed them to grow sugar, coffee, and spices for their +masters, instead of raising pumpkins and yams for themselves; and that, +if they will not do this, "the beneficent whip" should be again employed +to compel them. He adopts, in speaking of the black class, the lowest +slang of vulgar prejudice. "Black Quashee," sneers the gentlemanly +philosopher,--"black Quashee, if he will not help in bringing out the +spices, will get himself made a slave again (which state will be a little +less ugly than his present one), and with beneficent whip, since other +methods avail not, will be compelled to work." + +It is difficult to treat sentiments so atrocious and couched in such +offensive language with anything like respect. Common sense and +unperverted conscience revolt instinctively against them. The doctrine +they inculcate is that which underlies all tyranny and wrong of man +towards man. It is that under which "the creation groaneth and +travaileth unto this day." It is as old as sin; the perpetual argument +of strength against weakness, of power against right; that of the Greek +philosopher, that the barbarians, being of an inferior race, were born to +be slaves to the Greeks; and of the infidel Hobbes, that every man, being +by nature at war with every other man, has a perpetual right to reduce +him to servitude if he has the power. It is the cardinal doctrine of +what John Quincy Adams has very properly styled the Satanic school of +philosophy,--the ethics of an old Norse sea robber or an Arab plunderer +of caravans. It is as widely removed from the sweet humanities and +unselfish benevolence of Christianity as the faith and practice of the +East India Thug or the New Zealand cannibal. + +Our author does not, however, take us altogether by surprise. He has +before given no uncertain intimations of the point towards which his +philosophy was tending. In his brilliant essay upon 'Francia of +Paraguay', for instance, we find him entering with manifest satisfaction +and admiration into the details of his hero's tyranny. In his 'Letters +and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell'--in half a dozen pages of savage and +almost diabolical sarcasm directed against the growing humanity of the +age, the "rose-pink sentimentalisms," and squeamishness which shudders at +the sight of blood and infliction of pain--he prepares the way for a +justification of the massacre of Drogheda. More recently he has +intimated that the extermination of the Celtic race is the best way of +settling the Irish question; and that the enslavement and forcible +transportation of her poor, to labor under armed taskmasters in the +colonies, is the only rightful and proper remedy for the political and +social evils of England. In the 'Discourse on Negro Slavery' we see this +devilish philosophy in full bloom. The gods, he tells us, are with the +strong. Might has a divine right to rule,--blessed are the crafty of +brain and strong of hand! Weakness is crime. "Vae victis!" as Brennus +said when he threw his sword into the scale,--Woe to the conquered! The +negro is weaker in intellect than his "born lord," the white man, and has +no right to choose his own vocation. Let the latter do it for him, and, +if need be, return to the "beneficent whip." "On the side of the +oppressor there is power;" let him use it without mercy, and hold flesh +and blood to the grindstone with unrelenting rigor. Humanity is +squeamishness; pity for the suffering mere "rose-pink sentimentalism," +maudlin and unmanly. The gods (the old Norse gods doubtless) laugh to +scorn alike the complaints of the miserable and the weak compassions and +"philanthropisms" of those who would relieve them. This is the substance +of Thomas Carlyle's advice; this is the matured fruit of his philosophic +husbandry,--the grand result for which he has been all his life sounding +unfathomable abysses or beating about in the thin air of +Transcendentalism. Such is the substitute which he offers us for the +Sermon on the Mount. + +He tells us that the blacks have no right to use the islands of the West +Indies for growing pumpkins and garden stuffs for their own use and +behoof, because, but for the wisdom and skill of the whites, these +islands would have been productive only of "jungle, savagery, and swamp +malaria." The negro alone could never have improved the islands or +civilized himself; and therefore their and his "born lord," the white +man, has a right to the benefits of his own betterments of land and "two- +legged cattle!" "Black Quashee" has no right to dispose of himself and +his labor because he owes his partial civilization to others! And pray +how has it been with the white race, for whom our philosopher claims the +divine prerogative of enslaving? Some twenty and odd centuries ago, a +pair of half-naked savages, daubed with paint, might have been seen +roaming among the hills and woods of the northern part of the British +island, subsisting on acorns and the flesh of wild animals, with an +occasional relish of the smoked hams and pickled fingers of some +unfortunate stranger caught on the wrong side of the Tweed. This +interesting couple reared, as they best could, a family of children, who, +in turn, became the heads of families; and some time about the beginning +of the present century one of their descendants in the borough of +Ecclefechan rejoiced over the birth of a man child now somewhat famous as +"Thomas Carlyle, a maker of books." Does it become such a one to rave +against the West India negro's incapacity for self-civilization? Unaided +by the arts, sciences, and refinements of the Romans, he might have been, +at this very day, squatted on his naked haunches in the woods of +Ecclefechan, painting his weather-hardened epidermis in the sun like his +Piet ancestors. Where, in fact, can we look for unaided self-improvement +and spontaneous internal development, to any considerable extent, on the +part of any nation or people? From people to people the original God- +given impulse towards civilization and perfection has been transmitted, +as from Egypt to Greece, and thence to the Roman world. + +But the blacks, we are told, are indolent and insensible to the duty of +raising sugar and coffee and spice for the whites, being mainly careful +to provide for their own household and till their own gardens for +domestic comforts and necessaries. The exports have fallen off somewhat. +And what does this prove? Only that the negro is now a consumer of +products, of which, under the rule of the whip, he was a producer merely. +As to indolence, under the proper stimulus of fair wages we have reason +to believe that the charge is not sustained. If unthrifty habits and +lack of prudence on the part of the owners of estates, combined with the +repeal of duties on foreign sugars by the British government, have placed +it out of their power to pay just and reasonable wages for labor, who can +blame the blacks if they prefer to cultivate their own garden plots +rather than raise sugar and spice for their late masters upon terms +little better than those of their old condition, the "beneficent whip" +always excepted? The despatches of the colonial governors agree in +admitting that the blacks have had great cause for complaint and +dissatisfaction, owing to the delay or non-payment of their wages. Sir +C. E. Gray, writing from Jamaica, says, that "in a good many instances +the payment of the wages they have earned has been either very +irregularly made, or not at all, probably on account of the inability of +the employers." He says, moreover:-- + +"The negroes appear to me to be generally as free from rebellious +tendencies or turbulent feelings and malicious thoughts as any race of +laborers I ever saw or heard of. My impression is, indeed, that under a +system of perfectly fair dealing and of real justice they will come to be +an admirable peasantry and yeomanry; able-bodied, industrious, and hard- +working, frank, and well-disposed." + +It must, indeed, be admitted that, judging by their diminished exports +and the growing complaints of the owners of estates, the condition of the +islands, in a financial point of view, is by no means favorable. An +immediate cause of this, however, must be found in the unfortunate Sugar +Act of 1846. The more remote, but for the most part powerful, cause of +the present depression is to be traced to the vicious and unnatural +system of slavery, which has been gradually but surely preparing the way +for ruin, bankruptcy, and demoralization. Never yet, by a community or +an individual, have the righteous laws of God been violated with +impunity. Sooner or later comes the penalty which the infinite justice +has affixed to sin. Partial and temporary evils and inconveniences have +undoubtedly resulted from the emancipation of the laborers; and many +years must elapse before the relations of the two heretofore antagonistic +classes can be perfectly adjusted and their interests brought into entire +harmony. But that freedom is not to be held mainly accountable for the +depression of the British colonies is obvious from the fact that Dutch +Surinam, where the old system of slavery remains in its original rigor, +is in an equally depressed condition. The 'Paramaribo Neuws en +Advertentie Blad', quoted in the Jamaica Gazette, says, under date of +January 2, 1850: "Around us we hear nothing but complaints. People seek +and find matter in everything to picture to themselves the lot of the +place in which they live as bitterer than that of any other country. Of +a large number of flourishing plantations, few remain that can now be +called such. So deteriorated has property become within the last few +years, that many of these estates have not been able to defray their +weekly expenses. The colony stands on the brink of a yawning abyss, into +which it must inevitably plunge unless some new and better system is +speedily adopted. It is impossible that our agriculture can any longer +proceed on its old footing; our laboring force is dying away, and the +social position they held must undergo a revolution." + +The paper from which we have quoted, the official journal of the colony, +thinks the condition of the emancipated British colonies decidedly +preferable to that of Surinam, where the old slave system has continued +in force, and insists that the Dutch government must follow the example +of Great Britain. The actual condition of the British colonies since +emancipation is perfectly well known in Surinam: three of them, +Essequibo, Demerara, and Berbice, being its immediate neighbors, whatever +evils and inconveniences have resuited from emancipation must be well +understood by the Dutch slave-holders; yet we find them looking towards +emancipation as the only prospect of remedy for the greater evils of +their own system. + +This fact is of itself a sufficient answer to the assumption of Carlyle +and others, that what they call "the ruin of the colonies" has been +produced by the emancipation acts of 1833 and 1838. + +We have no fears whatever of the effect of this literary monstrosity, +which we have been considering upon the British colonies. Quashee, black +and ignorant as he may be, will not "get himself made a slave again." +The mission of the "beneficent whip" is there pretty well over; and it +may now find its place in museums and cabinets of ghastly curiosities, +with the racks, pillories, thumbscrews, and branding-irons of old days. +What we have feared, however, is, that the advocates and defenders of +slave-holding in this country might find in this discourse matter of +encouragement, and that our anti-christian prejudices against the colored +man might be strengthened and confirmed by its malignant vituperation and +sarcasm. On this point we have sympathized with the forebodings of an +eloquent writer in the London Enquirer:-- + +"We cannot imagine a more deadly moral poison for the American people +than his (Carlyle's) last composition. Every cruel practice of social +exclusion will derive from it new sharpness and venom. The slave-holder, +of course, will exult to find himself, not apologized for, but +enthusiastically cheered, upheld, and glorified, by a writer of European +celebrity. But it is not merely the slave who will feel Mr. Carlyle's +hand in the torture of his flesh, the riveting of his fetters, and the +denial of light to his mind. The free black will feel him, too, in the +more contemptuous and abhorrent scowl of his brother man, who will easily +derive from this unfortunate essay the belief that his inhuman feelings +are of divine ordination. It is a true work of the Devil, the fostering +of a tyrannical prejudice. Far and wide over space, and long into the +future, the winged words of evil counsel will go. In the market-place, +in the house, in the theatre, and in the church,--by land and by sea, in +all the haunts of men,--their influence will be felt in a perennial +growth of hate and scorn, and suffering and resentment. Amongst the +sufferers will be many to whom education has given every refined +susceptibility that makes contempt and exclusion bitter. Men and women, +faithful and diligent, loving and worthy to be loved, and bearing, it may +be, no more than an almost imperceptible trace of African descent, will +continue yet longer to be banished from the social meal of the white man, +and to be spurned from his presence in the house of God, because a writer +of genius has lent the weight of his authority and his fame, if not of +his power, to the perpetuation of a prejudice which Christianity was +undermining." + +A more recent production, 'Latter Day Pamphlets', in which man's +capability of self-government is more than doubted, democracy somewhat +contemptuously sneered at, and the "model republic" itself stigmatized as +a "nation of bores," may have a salutary effect in restraining our +admiration and in lessening our respect for the defender and eulogist of +slavery. The sweeping impartiality with which in this latter production +he applies the principle of our "peculiar institution" to the laboring +poor man, irrespective of color, recognizing as his only inalienable +right "the right of being set to labor" for his "born lords," will, we +imagine, go far to neutralize the mischief of his Discourse upon Negro +Slavery. It is a sad thing to find so much intellectual power as Carlyle +really possesses so little under the control of the moral sentiments. In +some of his earlier writings--as, for instance, his beautiful tribute to +the Corn Law Rhymer--we thought we saw evidence of a warm and generous +sympathy with the poor and the wronged, a desire to ameliorate human +suffering, which would have done credit to the "philanthropisms of Exeter +Hall" and the "Abolition of Pain Society." Latterly, however, like +Moliere's quack, he has "changed all that;" his heart has got upon the +wrong side; or rather, he seems to us very much in the condition of the +coal-burner in the German tale, who had swapped his heart of flesh for a +cobblestone. + + + + +FORMATION OF THE AMERICAN ANTISLAVERY SOCIETY. + + A letter to William Lloyd Garrison, President of the Society. + + AMESBURY, 24th 11th mo., 1863. + +MY DEAR FRIEND,--I have received thy kind letter, with the accompanying +circular, inviting me to attend the commemoration of the thirtieth +anniversary of the formation of the American Anti-Slavery Society, at +Philadelphia. It is with the deepest regret that I am compelled, by the +feeble state of my health, to give up all hope of meeting thee and my +other old and dear friends on an occasion of so much interest. How much +it costs me to acquiesce in the hard necessity thy own feelings will tell +thee better than any words of mine. + +I look back over thirty years, and call to mind all the circumstances of +my journey to Philadelphia, in company with thyself and the excellent Dr. +Thurston of Maine, even then, as we thought, an old man, but still +living, and true as ever to the good cause. I recall the early gray +morning when, with Samuel J. May, our colleague on the committee to +prepare a Declaration of Sentiments for the convention, I climbed to the +small "upper chamber" of a colored friend to hear thee read the first +draft of a paper which will live as long as our national history. I see +the members of the convention, solemnized by the responsibility, rise one +by one, and solemnly affix their names to that stern pledge of fidelity +to freedom. Of the signers, many have passed away from earth, a few have +faltered and turned back, but I believe the majority still live to +rejoice over the great triumph of truth and justice, and to devote what +remains of time and strength to the cause to which they consecrated their +youth and manhood thirty years ago. + +For while we may well thank God and congratulate one another on the +prospect of the speedy emancipation of the slaves of the United States, +we must not for a moment forget that, from this hour, new and mighty +responsibilities devolve upon us to aid, direct, and educate these +millions, left free, indeed, but bewildered, ignorant, naked, and +foodless in the wild chaos of civil war. We have to undo the accumulated +wrongs of two centuries; to remake the manhood which slavery has well- +nigh unmade; to see to it that the long-oppressed colored man has a fair +field for development and improvement; and to tread under our feet the +last vestige of that hateful prejudice which has been the strongest +external support of Southern slavery. We must lift ourselves at once to +the true Christian altitude where all distinctions of black and white are +overlooked in the heartfelt recognition of the brotherhood of man. + +I must not close this letter without confessing that I cannot be +sufficiently thankful to the Divine Providence which, in a great measure +through thy instrumentality, turned me away so early from what Roger +Williams calls "the world's great trinity, pleasure, profit, and honor," +to take side with the poor and oppressed. I am not insensible to +literary reputation. I love, perhaps too well, the praise and good-will +of my fellow-men; but I set a higher value on my name as appended to the +Anti-Slavery Declaration of 1833 than on the title-page of any book. +Looking over a life marked by many errors and shortcomings, I rejoice +that I have been able to maintain the pledge of that signature, and that, +in the long intervening years, + + "My voice, though not the loudest, has been heard Wherever Freedom + raised her cry of pain." + +Let me, through thee, extend a warm greeting to the friends, whether of +our own or the new generation, who may assemble on the occasion of +commemoration. There is work yet to be done which will task the best +efforts of us all. For thyself, I need not say that the love and esteem +of early boyhood have lost nothing by the test of time; and + + I am, very cordially, thy friend, + + JOHN G. WHITTIER + + + + +THE LESSON AND OUR DUTY. + + From the Amesbury Villager. + + (1865.) + + +IN the assassination of Abraham Lincoln and the unspeakably brutal +assault upon Secretary Seward slavery has made another revelation of +itself. Perhaps it was needed. In the magnanimity of assured victory we +were perhaps disposed to overlook, not so much the guilty leaders and +misguided masses of the great rebellion as the unutterable horror and sin +of slavery which prompted it. + +How slowly we of the North have learned the true character of this mighty +mischief! How our politicians bowed their strong shoulders under its +burthens! How our churches reverenced it! How our clergy contrasted the +heresy-tolerating North with the purely orthodox and Scriptural type of +slave-holding Christianity! How all classes hunted down, not merely the +fugitive slave, but the few who ventured to give him food and shelter and +a Godspeed in his flight from bondage! How utterly ignored was the +negro's claim of common humanity! How readily was the decision of the +slave-holding chief justice acquiesced in, that "the black man had no +rights which the white man is bound to respect"! + +We saw a senator of the United States, world-known and honored for his +learning, talents, and stainless integrity, beaten down and all but +murdered at his official desk by a South Carolina slave-holder, for the +crime of speaking against the extension of slavery; and we heard the +dastardly deed applauded throughout the South, while its brutal +perpetrator was rewarded with orations and gifts and smiles of beauty as +a chivalrous gentleman. We saw slavery enter Kansas, with bowieknife in +hand and curses on its lips; we saw the life of the Union struck at by +secession and rebellion; we heard of the bones of sons and brothers, +fallen in defence of freedom and law, dug up and wrought into ornaments +for the wrists and bosoms of slave-holding women; we looked into the open +hell of Andersonville, upon the deliberate, systematic starvation of +helpless prisoners; we heard of Libby Prison underlaid with gunpowder, +for the purpose of destroying thousands of Union prisoners in case of the +occupation of Richmond by our army; we saw hundreds of prisoners +massacred in cold blood at Fort Pillow, and the midnight sack of Lawrence +and the murder of its principal citizens. The flames of our merchant +vessels, seized by pirates, lighted every sea; we heard of officers of +the rebel army and navy stealing into our cities, firing hotels filled +with sleeping occupants, and laying obstructions on the track of rail +cars, for the purpose of killing and mangling their passengers. Yet in +spite of these revelations of the utterly barbarous character of slavery +and its direful effect upon all connected with it, we were on the very +point of trusting to its most criminal defenders the task of +reestablishing the state governments of the South, leaving the real Union +men, white as well as black, at the mercy of those who have made hatred a +religion and murder a sacrament. The nation needed one more terrible +lesson. It has it in the murder of its beloved chief magistrate and the +attempted assassination of its honored prime minister, the two men of all +others prepared to go farthest to smooth the way of defeated rebellion +back to allegiance. + +Even now the lesson of these terrible events seems but half learned. In +the public utterances I hear much of punishing and hanging leading +traitors, fierce demands for vengeance, and threats of the summary +chastisement of domestic sympathizers with treason, but comparatively +little is said of the accursed cause, the prolific mother of +abominations, slavery. The government is exhorted to remember that it +does not bear the sword in vain, the Old Testament is ransacked for texts +of Oriental hatred and examples of the revenges of a semi-barbarous +nation; but, as respects the four millions of unmistakably loyal people +of the South, the patient, the long-suffering, kind-hearted victims of +oppressions, only here and there a voice pleads for their endowment with +the same rights of citizenship which are to be accorded to the rank and +file of disbanded rebels. The golden rule of the Sermon on the Mount is +not applied to them. Much is said of executing justice upon rebels; +little of justice to loyal black men. Hanging a few ringleaders of +treason, it seems to be supposed, is all that is needed to restore and +reestablish the revolted states. The negro is to be left powerless in +the hands of the "white trash," who hate him with a bitter hatred, +exceeding that of the large slave-holders. In short, four years of +terrible chastisement, of God's unmistakable judgments, have not taught +us, as a people, their lesson, which could scarcely be plainer if it had +been written in letters of fire on the sky. Why is it that we are so +slow to learn, so unwilling to confess that slavery is the accursed thing +which whets the knife of murder, and transforms men, with the exterior of +gentlemen and Christians, into fiends? How pitiful is our exultation +over the capture of the wretched Booth and his associates! The great +criminal, of whom he and they were but paltry instruments, still stalks +abroad in the pine woods of Jersey, where the state has thrown around him +her legislative sanction and protection. He is in Pennsylvania, +thrusting the black man from public conveyances. Wherever God's children +are despised, insulted, and abused on account of their color, there is +the real assassin of the President still at large. I do not wonder at +the indignation which has been awakened by the late outrage, for I have +painfully shared it. But let us see to it that it is rightly directed. +The hanging of a score of Southern traitors will not restore Abraham +Lincoln nor atone for the mighty loss. In wreaking revenge upon these +miserable men, we must see to it that we do not degrade ourselves and do +dishonor to the sacred memory of the dead. We do well to be angry; and, +if need be, let our wrath wax seven times hotter, until that which "was a +murderer from the beginning" is consumed from the face of the earth. As +the people stand by the grave of Lincoln, let them lift their right hands +to heaven and take a solemn vow upon their souls to give no sleep to +their eyes nor slumber to their eyelids until slavery is hunted from its +last shelter, and every man, black and white, stands equal before the +law. + +In dealing with the guilty leaders and instigators of the rebellion we +should beware how we take counsel of passion. Hatred has no place beside +the calm and awful dignity of justice. Human life is still a very sacred +thing; Christian forbearance and patience are still virtues. For my own +part, I should be satisfied to see the chiefs of the great treason go out +from among us homeless, exiled, with the mark of Cain on their foreheads, +carrying with them, wherever they go, the avenging Nemesis of conscience. +We cannot take lessons, at this late day, in their school of barbarism; +we cannot starve and torture them as they have starved and tortured our +soldiers. Let them live. Perhaps that is, after all, the most terrible +penalty. For wherever they hide themselves the story of their acts will +pursue them; they can have no rest nor peace save in that deep repentance +which, through the mercy of God, is possible for all. + +I have no disposition to stand between these men and justice. If +arrested, they can have no claim to exemption from the liabilities of +criminals. But it is not simply a question of deserts that is to be +considered; we are to take into account our own reputation as a Christian +people, the wishes of our best friends abroad, and the humane instincts +of the age, which forbid all unnecessary severity. Happily we are not +called upon to take counsel of our fears. Rabbinical writers tell us +that evil spirits who are once baffled in a contest with human beings +lose from thenceforth all power of further mischief. The defeated rebels +are in the precise condition of these Jewish demons. Deprived of +slavery, they are like wasps that have lost their stings. + +As respects the misguided masses of the South, the shattered and crippled +remnants of the armies of treason, the desolate wives, mothers, and +children mourning for dear ones who have fallen in a vain and hopeless +struggle, it seems to me our duty is very plain. We must forgive their +past treason, and welcome and encourage their returning loyalty. None +but cowards will insult and taunt the defeated and defenceless. We must +feed and clothe the destitute, instruct the ignorant, and, bearing +patiently with the bitterness and prejudice which will doubtless for a +time thwart our efforts and misinterpret our motives, aid them in +rebuilding their states on the foundation of freedom. Our sole enemy was +slavery, and slavery is dead. We have now no quarrel with the people of +the South, who have really more reason than we have to rejoice over the +downfall of a system which impeded their material progress, perverted +their religion, shut them out from the sympathies of the world, and +ridged their land with the graves of its victims. + +We are victors, the cause of all this evil and suffering is removed +forever, and we can well afford to be magnanimous. How better can we +evince our gratitude to God for His great mercy than in doing good to +those who hated us, and in having compassion on those who have +despitefully used us? The hour is hastening for us all when our sole +ground of dependence will be the mercy and forgiveness of God. Let us +endeavor so to feel and act in our relations to the people of the South +that we can repeat in sincerity the prayer of our Lord: "Forgive us our +trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us," reverently +acknowledging that He has indeed "led captivity captive and received +gifts for men; yea, for the rebellious also, that the Lord God might +dwell among them." + + + + +CHARLES SUMNER AND THE STATE-DEPARTMENT. (1868.) + + +THE wise reticence of the President elect in the matter of his cabinet +has left free course to speculation and conjecture as to its composition. +That he fully comprehends the importance of the subject, and that he will +carefully weigh the claims of the possible candidates on the score of +patriotic services, ability, and fitness for specific duties, no one who +has studied his character, and witnessed his discretion, clear insight, +and wise adaptation of means to ends, under the mighty responsibilities +of his past career, can reasonably doubt. + +It is not probable that the distinguished statesman now at the head of +the State Department will, under the circumstances, look for a +continuance in office. History will do justice to his eminent services +in the Senate and in the cabinet during the first years of the rebellion, +but the fact that he has to some extent shared the unpopularity of the +present chief magistrate seems to preclude the idea of his retention in +the new cabinet. In looking over the list of our public men in search of +a successor, General Grant is not likely to be embarrassed by the number +of individuals fitted by nature, culture, and experience for such an +important post. The newspaper press, in its wide license of conjecture +and suggestion, has, as far as I have seen, mentioned but three or four +names in this connection. Allusions have been made to Senator Fessenden +of Maine, ex-Minister Motley, General Dix, ex-Secretary Stanton, and +Charles Sumner of Massachusetts. + +Without disparaging in any degree his assumed competitors, the last-named +gentleman is unquestionably preeminently fitted for the place. He has +had a lifelong education for it. The entire cast of his mind, the bent +of his studies, the habit and experience of his public life, his profound +knowledge of international law and the diplomatic history of his own and +other countries, his well-earned reputation as a statesman and +constitutional lawyer, not only at home, but wherever our country has +relations of amity and commerce, the honorable distinction which he +enjoys of having held a foremost place in the great conflict between +freedom and slavery, union and rebellion, all mark him as the man for the +occasion. There seems, indeed, a certain propriety in assigning to the +man who struck the heaviest blows at secession and slavery in the +national Senate the first place under him who, in the field, made them +henceforth impossible. The great captain and the great senator united in +war should not be dissevered in peace. + +I am not unaware that there are some, even in the Republican party, who +have failed to recognize in Senator Sumner the really wise and practical +statesmanship which a careful review of his public labors cannot but make +manifest. It is only necessary to point such to the open record of his +senatorial career. Few men have had the honor of introducing and +defending with exhaustive ability and thoroughness so many measures of +acknowledged practical importance to his immediate constituents, the +country at large, and the wider interests of humanity and civilization. +In what exigency has he been found wanting? What legislative act of +public utility for the last eighteen years has lacked his encouragement? +At the head of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, his clearness of vision, +firmness, moderation, and ready comprehension of the duties of his time +and place must be admitted by all parties. It was shrewdly said by Burke +that "men are wise with little reflection and good with little self- +denial, in business of all times except their own." But Charles Sumner, +the scholar, loving the "still air of delightful studies," has shown +himself as capable of thoroughly comprehending and digesting the events +transpiring before his eyes as of pronouncing judgment upon those +recorded in history. Far in advance of most of his contemporaries, he +saw and enunciated the true doctrine of reconstruction, the early +adoption of which would have been of incalculable service to the country. +One of the ablest statesmen and jurists of the Democratic party has had +the rare magnanimity to acknowledge that in this matter the Republican +senator was right, and himself and his party wrong. + +The Republicans of Massachusetts will make no fractious or importunate +demand upon the new President. They are content to leave to his unbiased +and impartial judgment the selection of his cabinet. But if, looking to +the best interests of the country, he shall see fit to give their +distinguished fellow-citizen the first place in it, they will feel no +solicitude as to the manner in which the duties of the office will be +discharged. They will feel that "the tools are with him who can use +them." Nothing more directly affects the reputation of a country than +the character of its diplomatic correspondence and its foreign +representatives. We have suffered in times past from sad mismanagement +abroad, and intelligent Americans have too often been compelled to hang +their heads with shame to see the flag of their country floating over the +consular offices of worthless, incompetent agents. There can be no +question that so far as they are entrusted to Senator Sumner's hands, the +interest, honor, and dignity of the nation will be safe. + +In a few weeks Charles Summer will be returned for his fourth term in the +United States Senate by the well-nigh unanimous vote of both branches of +the legislature of Massachusetts. Not a syllable of opposition to his +reelection is heard from any quarter. There is not a Republican in the +legislature who could have been elected unless he had been virtually +pledged to his support. No stronger evidence of the popular estimate of +his ability and integrity than this could be offered. As a matter of +course, the marked individuality of his intense convictions, earnestness, +persistence, and confident reliance upon the justice of his conclusions, +naturally growing out of the consciousness of having brought to his +honest search after truth all the lights of his learning and experience, +may, at times, have brought him into unpleasant relations with some of +his colleagues; but no one, friend or foe, has questioned his ability and +patriotism, or doubted his fidelity to principle. He has lent himself to +no schemes of greed. While so many others have taken advantage of the +facilities of their official stations to fill, directly or indirectly, +their own pockets or those of their relatives and retainers, it is to the +honor of Massachusetts that her representatives in the Senate have not +only "shaken their hands from the holding of bribes," but have so borne +themselves that no shadow of suspicion has ever rested on them. + +In this connection it may be proper to state that, in the event of a +change in the War Department, the claims of General Wilson, to whose +services in the committee on military affairs the country is deeply +indebted, may be brought under consideration. In that case Massachusetts +would not, if it were in her power, discriminate between her senators. +Both have deserved well of her and of the country. In expressing thus +briefly my opinion, I do not forget that after all the choice and +responsibility rest with General Grant alone. There I am content to +leave them. I am very far from urging any sectional claim. Let the +country but have peace after its long discord, let its good faith and +financial credit be sustained, and all classes of its citizens everywhere +protected in person and estate, and it matters very little to me whether +Massachusetts is represented at the Executive Council board, or not. +Personally, Charles Sumner would gain nothing by a transfer from the +Senate Chamber to the State Department. He does not need a place in the +American cabinet any more than John Bright does in the British. The +highest ambition might well be satisfied with his present position, from +which, looking back upon an honorable record, he might be justified in +using Milton's language of lofty confidence in the reply to Salmasius: "I +am not one who has disgraced beauty of sentiment by deformity of conduct, +or the maxims of a freeman by the actions of a slave, but, by the grace +of God, I have kept my life unsullied." + + + + +THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF 1872. + + The following letter was written on receiving a request from a + committee of colored voters for advice as to their action at the + presidential election of 1872. + + AMESBURY, 9th mo. 3d, 1872. + +DEAR FRIENDS,--I have just received your letter of the 29th ult. asking +my opinion of your present duty as colored voters in the choice between +General Grant and Horace Greeley for the presidency. You state that you +have been confused by the contradictory advice given you by such friends +of your people as Charles Sumner on one hand, and William L. Garrison and +Wendell Phillips on the other; and you ask me, as one whom you are +pleased to think "free from all bias," to add my counsel to theirs. + +I thank you for the very kind expression of your confidence and your +generous reference to my endeavors to serve the cause of freedom; but I +must own that I would fain have been spared the necessity of adding to +the already too long list of political epistles. I have felt it my duty +in times past to take an active part--often very distasteful to me--in +political matters, having for my first object the deliverance of my +country from the crime and curse of slavery. That great question being +now settled forever, I have been more than willing to leave to younger +and stronger hands the toils and the honors of partisan service. Pained +and saddened by the bitter and unchristian personalities of the canvass +now in progress, I have hitherto held myself aloof from it as far as +possible, unwilling to sanction in the slightest degree the criminations +and recriminations of personal friends whom I have every reason to love +and respect, and in whose integrity I have unshaken confidence. In the +present condition of affairs I have not been able to see that any special +action as an abolitionist was required at my hands. Both of the great +parties, heretofore widely separated, have put themselves on +substantially the same platform. The Republican party, originally +pledged only to the non-extension of slavery, and whose most illustrious +representative, President Lincoln, avowed his willingness to save the +Union without abolishing slavery, has been, under Providence, mainly +instrumental in the total overthrow of the detestable system; while the +Democratic party, composed largely of slave-holders, and, even at the +North, scarcely willing to save the Union at the expense of the slave +interest upon which its success depended, shattered and crippled by the +civil war and its results, has at last yielded to the inexorable logic of +events, abandoned a position no longer tenable, and taken its "new +departure" with an abolitionist as its candidate. As a friend of the +long-oppressed colored man, and for the sake of the peace and prosperity +of the country, I rejoice at this action of the Democratic party. The +underlying motives of this radical change are doubtless somewhat mixed +and contradictory, honest conviction on the part of some, and party +expediency and desire of office on the part of others; but the change +itself is real and irrevocable; the penalty of receding would be swift +and irretrievable ruin. In any point of view the new order of things is +desirable; and nothing more fully illustrates "the ways that are dark and +the tricks that are vain" of party politics than the attempt of professed +friends of the Union and equal rights for all to counteract it by giving +aid and comfort to a revival of the worst characteristics of the old +party in the shape of a straight-out Democratic convention. + +As respects the candidates now before us, I can see no good reason why +colored voters as such should oppose General Grant, who, though not an +abolitionist and not even a member of the Republican party previous to +his nomination, has faithfully carried out the laws of Congress in their +behalf. Nor, on the other hand, can I see any just grounds for distrust +of such a man as Horace Greeley, who has so nobly distinguished himself +as the advocate of human rights irrespective of race or color, and who by +the instrumentality of his press has been for thirty years the educator +of the people in the principles of justice, temperance, and freedom. +Both of these men have, in different ways, deserved too well of the +country to be unnecessarily subjected to the brutalities of a +presidential canvass; and, so far as they are personally concerned, it +would doubtless have been better if the one had declined a second term of +uncongenial duties, and the other continued to indite words of wisdom in +the shades of Chappaqua. But they have chosen otherwise; and I am +willing, for one, to leave my colored fellow-citizens to the unbiased +exercise of their own judgment and instincts in deciding between them. +The Democratic party labors under the disadvantage of antecedents not +calculated to promote a rapid growth of confidence; and it is no matter +of surprise that the vote of the emancipated class is likely to be +largely against it. But if, as will doubtless be the case, that vote +shall be to some extent divided between the two candidates, it will have +the effect of inducing politicians of the rival parties to treat with +respect and consideration this new element of political power, from self- +interest if from no higher motive. The fact that at this time both +parties are welcoming colored orators to their platforms, and that, in +the South, old slave-masters and their former slaves fraternize at caucus +and barbecue, and vote for each other at the polls, is full of +significance. If, in New England, the very men who thrust Frederick +Douglass from car and stage-coach, and mobbed and hunted him like a wild +beast, now crowd to shake his hand and cheer him, let us not despair of +seeing even the Ku-Klux tarried into decency, and sitting "clothed in +their right minds" as listeners to their former victims. The colored man +is to-day the master of his own destiny. No power on earth can deprive +him of his rights as an American citizen. And it is in the light of +American citizenship that I choose to regard my colored friends, as men +having a common stake in the welfare of the country; mingled with, and +not separate from, their white fellow-citizens; not herded together as a +distinct class to be wielded by others, without self-dependence and +incapable of self-determination. Thanks to such men as Sumner and Wilson +and their compeers, nearly all that legislation can do for them has +already been done. We can now only help them to help themselves. +Industry, economy, temperance, self-culture, education for their +children,--these things, indispensable to their elevation and progress, +are in a great measure in their own hands. + +You will, therefore, my friends and fellow-citizens, pardon me if I +decline to undertake to decide for you the question of your political +duty as respects the candidates for the presidency,--a question which you +have probably already settled in your own minds. If it had been apparent +to me that your rights and liberties were really in danger from the +success of either candidate, your letter would not have been needed to +call forth my opinion. In the long struggle of well-nigh forty years, I +can honestly say that no consideration of private interest, nor my +natural love of peace and retirement and the good-will of others, have +kept me silent when a word could be fitly spoken for human rights. I +have not so long acted with the class to which you belong without +acquiring respect for your intelligence and capacity for judging wisely +for yourselves. I shall abide your decision with confidence, and +cheerfully acquiesce in it. + +If, on the whole, you prefer to vote for the reelection of General Grant, +let me hope you will do so without joining with eleventh-hour friends in +denouncing and reviling such an old and tried friend as Charles Sumner, +who has done and suffered so much in your behalf. If, on the other hand, +some of you decide to vote for Horace Greeley, you need not in so doing +forget your great obligations to such friends as William Lloyd Garrison, +Wendell Phillips, and Lydia Maria Child. Agree or disagree with them, +take their advice or reject it, but stand by them still, and teach the +parties with which you are connected to respect your feelings towards +your benefactors. + + + + +THE CENSURE OF SUMNER. + + + A letter to the Boston Daily Advertiser in reference to the petition + for the rescinding of the resolutions censuring Senator Sumner for + his motion to erase from the United States flags the record of the + battles of the civil war. + + +I BEG leave to occupy a small space in the columns of the Advertiser for +the purpose of noticing a charge which has been brought against the +petitioners for rescinding the resolutions of the late extra session +virtually censuring the Hon. Charles Sumner. It is intimated that the +action of these petitioners evinces a lack of appreciation of the +services of the soldiers of the Union, and that not to censure Charles +Sumner is to censure the volunteers of Massachusetts. + +As a matter of fact, the petitioners express no opinion as to the policy +or expediency of the senator's proposition. Some may believe it not only +right in itself, but expedient and well-timed; others that it was +inexpedient or premature. None doubt that, sooner or later, the thing +which it contemplates must be done, if we are to continue a united +people. What they feel and insist upon is that the proposition is one +which implies no disparagement of the soldiers of Massachusetts and the +Union; that it neither receives nor merits the "unqualified condemnation +of the people" of the state; and that it furnishes no ground whatever for +legislative interference or censure. A single glance at the names of the +petitioners is a sufficient answer to the insinuation that they are +unmindful of that self-sacrifice and devotion, the marble and granite +memorials of which, dotting the state from the Merrimac to the +Connecticut, testify the gratitude of the loyal heart of Massachusetts. + +I have seen no soldier yet who considered himself wronged or "insulted" +by the proposition. In point of fact the soldiers have never asked for +such censure of the brave and loyal statesman who was the bosom friend +and confidant of Secretary Stanton (the great war-minister, second, if at +all, only to Carnot) and of John A. Andrew, dear to the heart of every +Massachusetts soldier, and whose tender care and sympathy reached them +wherever they struggled or died for country and freedom. The proposal of +Senator Sumner, instead of being an "insult," was, in fact, the highest +compliment which could be paid to brave men; for it implied that they +cherished no vindictive hatred of fallen foes; that they were too proudly +secure of the love and gratitude of their countrymen to need above their +heads the flaunting blazon of their achievements; that they were as +magnanimous in peace and victory as they were heroic and patient through +the dark and doubtful arbitrament of war. As such they understand it. I +should be sorry to think there existed a single son of Massachusetts weak +enough to believe that his reputation and honor as a soldier needed this +censure of Charles Sumner. I have before me letters from men, ranking +from orderly sergeant to general, who have looked at death full in the +face on every battlefield where the flag of Massachusetts floated, and +they all thank me for my efforts to rescind this uncalled-for censure, +and pledge me their hearty support. They cordially indorse the noble +letter of Vice-President Wilson offering his signature to the petition +for rescinding the obnoxious resolutions; and if these resolutions are +not annulled, it will not be the fault of Massachusetts volunteers, but +rather of the mistaken zeal of men more familiar with the drill of the +caucus than with that of the camp. + +I am no blind partisan of Charles Sumner. I have often differed from him +in opinion. I regretted deeply the position which he thought it his duty +to take during the late presidential campaign. He felt the atmosphere +about him thick and foul with corruption and bribery and greed; he saw +the treasury ringed about like Saturn with unscrupulous combinations and +corporations; and it is to be regretted more than wondered at if he +struck out wildly in his indignation, and that his blows fell sometimes +upon the wrong object. But I did not intend to act the part of his +apologist. The twenty years of his senatorial life are crowded with +memorials of his loyalty to truth and free dom and humanity, which will +be enduring as our history. He is no party to this movement, in which my +name has been more prominent than I could have wished, and no word of his +prompted or suggested it. From its inception to the present time he has +remained silent in his chamber of pain, waiting to bequeath, like the +testator of the dramatist, + + "A fame by scandal untouched + To Memory and Time's old daughter Truth." + +He can well afford to wait, and the issue of the present question before +our legislature is of far less consequence to him than to us. To use the +words of one who stood by him in the dark days of the Fugitive Slave Law, +the Chief Justice of the United States,--"Time and the wiser thought will +vindicate the illustrious statesman to whom Massachusetts, the country, +and humanity owe so much, but the state can ill afford the damage to its +own reputation which such a censure of such a man will inflict." + +AMESBURY, 3d month, 8, 1873. + + + + +THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONVENTION OF 1833. (1874.) + +In the gray twilight of a chill day of late November, forty years ago, a +dear friend of mine, residing in Boston, made his appearance at the old +farm-house in East Haverhill. He had been deputed by the abolitionists +of the city, William L. Garrison, Samuel E. Sewall, and others, to +inform me of my appointment as a delegate to the Convention about to be +held in Philadelphia for the formation of an American Anti-Slavery +Society, and to urge upon me the necessity of my attendance. + +Few words of persuasion, however, were needed. I was unused to +travelling; my life had been spent on a secluded farm; and the journey, +mostly by stage-coach, at that time was really a formidable one. +Moreover, the few abolitionists were everywhere spoken against, their +persons threatened, and in some instances a price set on their heads by +Southern legislators. Pennsylvania was on the borders of slavery, and it +needed small effort of imagination to picture to one's self the breaking +up of the Convention and maltreatment of its members. This latter +consideration I do not think weighed much with me, although I was better +prepared for serious danger than for anything like personal indignity. I +had read Governor Trumbull's description of the tarring and feathering of +his hero MacFingal, when, after the application of the melted tar, the +feather-bed was ripped open and shaken over him, until + + "Not Maia's son, with wings for ears, + Such plumes about his visage wears, + Nor Milton's six-winged angel gathers + Such superfluity of feathers," + +and I confess I was quite unwilling to undergo a martyrdom which my best +friends could scarcely refrain from laughing at. But a summons like that +of Garrison's bugle-blast could scarcely be unheeded by one who, from +birth and education, held fast the traditions of that earlier +abolitionism which, under the lead of Benezet and Woolman, had effaced +from the Society of Friends every vestige of slave-holding. I had thrown +myself, with a young man's fervid enthusiasm, into a movement which +commended itself to my reason and conscience, to my love of country, and +my sense of duty to God and my fellow-men. My first venture in +authorship was the publication, at my own expense, in the spring of 1833, +of a pamphlet entitled Justice and Expediency, on the moral and political +evils of slavery, and the duty of emancipation. Under such circumstances +I could not hesitate, but prepared at once for my journey. It was +necessary that I should start on the morrow, and the intervening time, +with a small allowance for sleep, was spent in providing for the care of +the farm and homestead during my absence. + +So the next morning I took the stage for Boston, stopping at the ancient +hostelry known as the Eastern Stage Tavern; and on the day following, in +company with William Lloyd Garrison, I left for New York. At that city +we were joined by other delegates, among them David Thurston, a +Congregational minister from Maine. On our way to Philadelphia, we took, +as a matter of necessary economy, a second-class conveyance, and found +ourselves, in consequence, among rough and hilarious companions, whose +language was more noteworthy for strength than refinement. Our worthy +friend the clergyman bore it awhile in painful silence, but at last felt +it his duty to utter words of remonstrance and admonition. The leader of +the young roisterers listened with a ludicrous mock gravity, thanked him +for his exhortation, and, expressing fears that the extraordinary effort +had exhausted his strength, invited him to take a drink with him. Father +Thurston buried his grieved face in his cloak-collar, and wisely left the +young reprobates to their own devices. + +On reaching Philadelphia, we at once betook, ourselves to the humble +dwelling on Fifth Street occupied by Evan Lewis, a plain, earnest man and +lifelong abolitionist, who had been largely interested in preparing the +way for the Convention. In one respect the time of our assembling seemed +unfavorable. The Society of Friends, upon whose cooperation we had +counted, had but recently been rent asunder by one of those unhappy +controversies which so often mark the decline of practical righteousness. +The martyr-age of the society had passed, wealth and luxury had taken the +place of the old simplicity, there was a growing conformity to the maxims +of the world in trade and fashion, and with it a corresponding +unwillingness to hazard respectability by the advocacy of unpopular +reforms. Unprofitable speculation and disputation on one hand, and a +vain attempt on the other to enforce uniformity of opinion, had +measurably lost sight of the fact that the end of the gospel is love, and +that charity is its crowning virtue. After a long and painful struggle +the disruption had taken place; the shattered fragments, under the name +of Orthodox and Hicksite, so like and yet so separate in feeling, +confronted each other as hostile sects, and + + "Never either found another + To free the hollow heart from paining; + They stood aloof, the scars remaining, + Like cliffs that have been torn asunder + A dreary sea now flows between; + But neither rain, nor frost, nor thunder, + Can wholly do away, I ween, + The marks of that which once has been." + +We found about forty members assembled in the parlors of our friend +Lewis, and, after some general conversation, Lewis Tappan was asked to +preside over an informal meeting, preparatory to the opening of the +Convention. A handsome, intellectual-looking man, in the prime of life, +responded to the invitation, and in a clear, well-modulated voice, the +firm tones of which inspired hope and confidence, stated the objects of +our preliminary council, and the purpose which had called us together, in +earnest and well-chosen words. In making arrangements for the +Convention, it was thought expedient to secure, if possible, the services +of some citizen of Philadelphia, of distinction and high social standing, +to preside over its deliberations. Looking round among ourselves in vain +for some titled civilian or doctor of divinity, we were fain to confess +that to outward seeming we were but "a feeble folk," sorely needing the +shield of a popular name. A committee, of which I was a member, was +appointed to go in search of a president of this description. We visited +two prominent gentlemen, known as friendly to emancipation and of high +social standing. They received us with the dignified courtesy of the old +school, declined our proposition in civil terms, and bowed us out with a +cool politeness equalled only by that of the senior Winkle towards the +unlucky deputation of Pickwick and his unprepossessing companions. As we +left their doors we could not refrain from smiling in each other's faces +at the thought of the small inducement our proffer of the presidency held +out to men of their class. Evidently our company was not one for +respectability to march through Coventry with. + +On the following morning we repaired to the Adelphi Building, on Fifth +Street, below Walnut, which had been secured for our use. Sixty-two +delegates were found to be in attendance. Beriah Green, of the Oneida +(New York) Institute, was chosen president, a fresh-faced, sandy-haired, +rather common-looking man, but who had the reputation of an able and +eloquent speaker. He had already made himself known to us as a resolute +and self-sacrificing abolitionist. Lewis Tappan and myself took our +places at his side as secretaries, on the elevation at the west end of +the hall. + +Looking over the assembly, I noticed that it was mainly composed of +comparatively young men, some in middle age, and a few beyond that +period. They were nearly all plainly dressed, with a view to comfort +rather than elegance. Many of the faces turned towards me wore a look of +expectancy and suppressed enthusiasm; all had the earnestness which might +be expected of men engaged in an enterprise beset with difficulty and +perhaps with peril. The fine, intellectual head of Garrison, prematurely +bald, was conspicuous; the sunny-faced young man at his side, in whom all +the beatitudes seemed to find expression, was Samuel J. May, mingling in +his veins the best blood of the Sewalls and Quincys,--a man so +exceptionally pure and large-hearted, so genial, tender, and loving, that +he could be faithful to truth and duty without making an enemy. + + "The de'il wad look into his face, + And swear he couldna wrang him." + +That tall, gaunt, swarthy man, erect, eagle-faced, upon whose somewhat +martial figure the Quaker coat seemed a little out of place, was Lindley +Coates, known in all eastern Pennsylvania as a stern enemy of slavery; +that slight, eager man, intensely alive in every feature and gesture, was +Thomas Shipley, who for thirty years had been the protector of the free +colored people of Philadelphia, and whose name was whispered reverently +in the slave cabins of Maryland as the friend of the black man, one of a +class peculiar to old Quakerism, who in doing what they felt to be duty, +and walking as the Light within guided them, knew no fear and shrank from +no sacrifice. Braver men the world has not known. Beside him, differing +in creed, but united with him in works of love and charity, sat Thomas +Whitson, of the Hicksite school of Friends, fresh from his farm in +Lancaster County, dressed in plainest homespun, his tall form surmounted +by a shock of unkempt hair, the odd obliquity of his vision contrasting +strongly with he clearness and directness of his spiritual insight. +Elizur Wright, the young professor of a Western college, who had lost his +place by his bold advocacy of freedom, with a look of sharp concentration +in keeping with an intellect keen as a Damascus blade, closely watched +the proceedings through his spectacles, opening his mouth only to speak +directly to the purpose. The portly form of Dr. Bartholomew Russell, the +beloved physician, from that beautiful land of plenty and peace which +Bayard Taylor has described in his Story of Kennett, was not to be +overlooked. Abolitionist in heart and soul, his house was known as the +shelter of runaway slaves, and no sportsman ever entered into the chase +with such zest as he did into the arduous and sometimes dangerous work of +aiding their escape and baffling their pursuers. The youngest man +present was, I believe, James Miller McKim, a Presbyterian minister from +Columbia, afterwards one of our most efficient workers. James Mott, E. +L. Capron, Arnold Buffum, and Nathan Winslow, men well known in the anti- +slavery agitation, were conspicuous members. Vermont sent down from her +mountains Orson S. Murray, a man terribly in earnest, with a zeal that +bordered on fanaticism, and who was none the more genial for the mob- +violence to which he had been subjected. In front of me, awakening +pleasant associations of the old homestead in Merrimac valley, sat my +first school-teacher, Joshua Coffin, the learned and worthy antiquarian +and historian of Newbury. A few spectators, mostly of the Hicksite +division of Friends, were present, in broad brims and plain bonnets, +among them Esther Moore and Lucretia Mott. + +Committees were chosen to draft a constitution for a national Anti- +Slavery Society, nominate a list of officers, and prepare a declaration +of principles to be signed by the members. Dr. A. L. Cox of New York, +while these committees were absent, read something from my pen eulogistic +of William Lloyd Garrison; and Lewis Tappan and Amos A. Phelps, a +Congregational clergyman of Boston, afterwards one of the most devoted +laborers in the cause, followed in generous commendation of the zeal, +courage, and devotion of the young pioneer. The president, after calling +James McCrummell, one of the two or three colored members of the +Convention, to the chair, made some eloquent remarks upon those editors +who had ventured to advocate emancipation. At the close of his speech a +young man rose to speak, whose appearance at once arrested my attention. +I think I have never seen a finer face and figure, and his manner, words, +and bearing were in keeping. "Who is he?" I asked of one of the +Pennsylvania delegates. "Robert Purvis, of this city, a colored man," +was the answer. He began by uttering his heart-felt thanks to the +delegates who had convened for the deliverance of his people. He spoke +of Garrison in terms of warmest eulogy, as one who had stirred the heart +of the nation, broken the tomblike slumber of the church, and compelled +it to listen to the story of the slave's wrongs. He closed by declaring +that the friends of colored Americans would not be forgotten. "Their +memories," he said, "will be cherished when pyramids and monuments shall +have crumbled in dust. The flood of time which is sweeping away the +refuge of lies is bearing on the advocates of our cause to a glorious +immortality." + +The committee on the constitution made their report, which after +discussion was adopted. It disclaimed any right or intention of +interfering, otherwise than by persuasion and Christian expostulation, +with slavery as it existed in the states, but affirming the duty of +Congress to abolish it in the District of Columbia and territories, and +to put an end to the domestic slave-trade. A list of officers of the new +society was then chosen: Arthur Tappan of New York, president, and Elizur +Wright, Jr., William Lloyd Garrison, and A. L. Cox, secretaries. Among +the vice-presidents was Dr. Lord of Dartmouth College, then professedly +in favor of emancipation, but who afterwards turned a moral somersault, a +self-inversion which left him ever after on his head instead of his feet. + +He became a querulous advocate of slavery as a divine institution, and +denounced woe upon the abolitionists for interfering with the will and +purpose of the Creator. As the cause of freedom gained ground, the poor +man's heart failed him, and his hope for church and state grew fainter +and fainter. A sad prophet of the evangel of slavery, he testified in +the unwilling ears of an unbelieving generation, and died at last +despairing of a world which seemed determined that Canaan should no +longer be cursed, nor Onesimus sent back to Philemon. + +The committee on the declaration of principles, of which I was a member, +held a long session, discussing the proper scope and tenor of the +document. But little progress being made, it was finally decided to +entrust the matter to a sub-committee, consisting of William L. +Garrison, S. J. May, and myself; and after a brief consultation and +comparison of each other's views, the drafting of the important paper was +assigned to the former gentleman. We agreed to meet him at his lodgings +in the house of a colored friend early the next morning. It was still +dark when we climbed up to his room, and the lamp was still burning by +the light of which he was writing the last sentence of the declaration. +We read it carefully, made a few verbal changes, and submitted it to the +large committee, who unanimously agreed to report it to the Convention. + +The paper was read to the Convention by Dr. Atlee, chairman of the +committee, and listened to with the profoundest interest. + +Commencing with a reference to the time, fifty-seven years before, when, +in the same city of Philadelphia, our fathers announced to the world +their Declaration of Independence,--based on the self-evident truths of +human equality and rights,--and appealed to arms for its defence, it +spoke of the new enterprise as one "without which that of our fathers is +incomplete," and as transcending theirs in magnitude, solemnity, and +probable results as much "as moral truth does physical force." It spoke +of the difference of the two in the means and ends proposed, and of the +trifling grievances of our fathers compared with the wrongs and +sufferings of the slaves, which it forcibly characterized as unequalled +by any others on the face of the earth. It claimed that the nation was +bound to repent at once, to let the oppressed go free, and to admit them +to all the rights and privileges of others; because, it asserted, no man +has a right to enslave or imbrute his brother; because liberty is +inalienable; because there is no difference, in principle, between slave- +holding and man-stealing, which the law brands as piracy; and because no +length of bondage can invalidate man's claim to himself, or render slave +laws anything but "an audacious usurpation." + +It maintained that no compensation should be given to planters +emancipating slaves, because that would be a surrender of fundamental +principles; "slavery is a crime, and is, therefore, not an article to be +sold;" because slave-holders are not just proprietors of what they claim; +because emancipation would destroy only nominal, not real property; and +because compensation, if given at all, should be given to the slaves. + +It declared any "scheme of expatriation" to be "delusive, cruel, and +dangerous." It fully recognized the right of each state to legislate +exclusively on the subject of slavery within its limits, and conceded +that Congress, under the present national compact, had no right to +interfere; though still contending that it had the power, and should +exercise it, "to suppress the domestic slave-trade between the several +states," and "to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia, and in +those portions of our territory which the Constitution has placed under +its exclusive jurisdiction." + +After clearly and emphatically avowing the principles underlying the +enterprise, and guarding with scrupulous care the rights of persons and +states under the Constitution, in prosecuting it, the declaration closed +with these eloquent words:-- + +We also maintain that there are, at the present time, the highest +obligations resting upon the people of the free states to remove slavery +by moral and political action, as prescribed in the Constitution of the +United States. They are now living under a pledge of their tremendous +physical force to fasten the galling fetters of tyranny upon the limbs of +millions in the Southern states; they are liable to be called at any +moment to suppress a general insurrection of the slaves; they authorize +the slave-owner to vote on three fifths of his slaves as property, and +thus enable him to perpetuate his oppression; they support a standing +army at the South for its protection; and they seize the slave who has +escaped into their territories, and send him back to be tortured by an +enraged master or a brutal driver. This relation to slavery is criminal +and full of danger. It must be broken up. + +"These are our views and principles,--these our designs and measures. +With entire confidence in the overruling justice of God, we plant +ourselves upon the Declaration of Independence and the truths of divine +revelation as upon the everlasting rock. + +"We shall organize anti-slavery societies, if possible, in every city, +town, and village in our land. + +"We shall send forth agents to lift up the voice of remonstrance, of +warning, of entreaty and rebuke. + +"We shall circulate unsparingly and extensively anti-slavery tracts and +periodicals. + +"We shall enlist the pulpit and the press in the cause of the suffering +and the dumb. + +"We shall aim at a purification of the churches from all participation in +the guilt of slavery. + +"We shall encourage the labor of freemen over that of the slaves, by +giving a preference to their productions; and + +"We shall spare no exertions nor means to bring the whole nation to +speedy repentance. + +"Our trust for victory is solely in God. We may be personally defeated, +but our principles never. Truth, justice, reason, humanity, must and +will gloriously triumph. Already a host is coming up to the help of the +Lord against the mighty, and the prospect before us is full of +encouragement. + +"Submitting this declaration to the candid examination of the people of +this country, and of the friends of liberty all over the world, we hereby +affix our signatures to it; pledging ourselves that, under the guidance +and by the help of Almighty God, we will do all that in us lies, +consistently with this declaration of our principles, to overthrow the +most execrable system of slavery that has ever been witnessed upon earth, +to deliver our land from its deadliest curse, to wipe out the foulest +stain which rests upon our national escutcheon, and to secure to the +colored population of the United States all the rights and privileges +which belong to them as men and as Americans, come what may to our +persons, our interests, or our reputations, whether we live to witness +the triumph of justice, liberty, and humanity, or perish untimely as +martyrs in this great, benevolent, and holy cause." + +The reading of the paper was followed by a discussion which lasted +several hours. A member of the Society of Friends moved its immediate +adoption. "We have," he said, "all given it our assent: every heart here +responds to it. It is a doctrine of Friends that these strong and deep +impressions should be heeded." The Convention, nevertheless, deemed it +important to go over the declaration carefully, paragraph by paragraph. +During the discussion, one of the spectators asked leave to say a few +words. A beautiful and graceful woman, in the prime of life, with a face +beneath her plain cap as finely intellectual as that of Madame Roland, +offered some wise and valuable suggestions, in a clear, sweet voice, the +charm of which I have never forgotten. It was Lucretia Mott of +Philadelphia. The president courteously thanked her, and encouraged her +to take a part in the discussion. On the morning of the last day of our +session, the declaration, with its few verbal amendments, carefully +engrossed on parchment, was brought before the Convention. Samuel J. May +rose to read it for the last time. His sweet, persuasive voice faltered +with the intensity of his emotions as he repeated the solemn pledges of +the concluding paragraphs. After a season of silence, David Thurston of +Maine rose as his name was called by one of the secretaries, and affixed +his name to the document. One after another passed up to the platform, +signed, and retired in silence. All felt the deep responsibility of the +occasion the shadow and forecast of a life-long struggle rested upon +every countenance. + +Our work as a Convention was now done. President Green arose to make the +concluding address. The circumstances under which it was uttered may +have lent it an impressiveness not its own; but as I now recall it, it +seems to me the most powerful and eloquent speech to which I have ever +listened. He passed in review the work that had been done, the +constitution of the new society, the declaration of sentiments, and the +union and earnestness which had marked the proceedings. His closing +words will never be forgotten by those who heard them:-- + +"Brethren, it has been good to be here. In this hallowed atmosphere I +have been revived and refreshed. This brief interview has more than +repaid me for all that I have ever suffered. I have here met congenial +minds; I have rejoiced in sympathies delightful to the soul. Heart has +beat responsive to heart, and the holy work of seeking to benefit the +outraged and despised has proved the most blessed employment. + +"But now we must retire from these balmy influences and breathe another +atmosphere. The chill hoar-frost will be upon us. The storm and tempest +will rise, and the waves of persecution will dash against our souls. Let +us be prepared for the worst. Let us fasten ourselves to the throne of +God as with hooks of steel. If we cling not to Him, our names to that +document will be but as dust. + +"Let us court no applause, indulge in no spirit of vain boasting. Let us +be assured that our only hope in grappling with the bony monster is in an +Arm that is stronger than ours. Let us fix our gaze on God, and walk in +the light of His countenance. If our cause be just--and we know it is-- +His omnipotence is pledged to its triumph. Let this cause be entwined +around the very fibres of our hearts. Let our hearts grow to it, so that +nothing but death can sunder the bond." + +He ceased, and then, amidst a silence broken only by the deep-drawn +breath of emotion in the assembly, lifted up his voice in a prayer to +Almighty God, full of fervor and feeling, imploring His blessing and +sanctification upon the Convention and its labors. And with the +solemnity of this supplication in our hearts we clasped hands in +farewell, and went forth each man to his place of duty, not knowing the +things that should befall us as individuals, but with a confidence, never +shaken by abuse and persecution, in the certain triumph of our cause. + + + + +KANSAS + +Read at the twenty-fifth anniversary of the founding of the state of +Kansas. + + BEAR CAMP HOUSE, WEST OSSIPEE, N. H., + Eighth month, 29th, 1879. + +To J. S. EMERY, R. MORROW, AND C. W. SMITH, COMMITTEE: + +I HAVE received your invitation to the twenty-fifth anniversary +celebration of the first settlement of Kansas. It would give me great +pleasure to visit your state on an occasion of such peculiar interest, +and to make the acquaintance of its brave and self-denying pioneers, but +I have not health and strength for the journey. It is very fitting that +this anniversary should be duly recognized. No one of your sister states +has such a record as yours,--so full of peril and adventure, fortitude, +self-sacrifice, and heroic devotion to freedom. Its baptism of martyr +blood not only saved the state to liberty, but made the abolition of +slavery everywhere possible. Barber and Stillwell and Colpetzer and +their associates did not die in vain. All through your long, hard +struggle I watched the course of events in Kansas with absorbing +interest. I rejoiced, while I marvelled at the steady courage which no +danger could shake, at the firm endurance which outwearied the +brutalities of your slaveholding invaders, and at that fidelity to right +and duty which the seduction of immediate self-interest could not swerve, +nor the military force of a proslavery government overawe. All my +sympathies were with you in that stern trial of your loyalty to God and +humanity. And when, in the end, you had conquered peace, and the last of +the baffled border ruffians had left your territory, I felt that the doom +of the accursed institution was sealed, and that its abolition was but a +question of time. A state with such a record will, I am sure, be true to +its noble traditions, and will do all in its power to aid the victims of +prejudice and oppression who may be compelled to seek shelter within its +borders. I will not for a moment distrust the fidelity of Kansas to her +foundation principle. God bless and prosper her! Thanking you for the +kind terms of your invitation, I am, gentlemen, very truly your friend. + + + + +WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. + +An Introduction to Oliver Johnson's "William Lloyd Garrison and his +Times." + + (1879.) + +I no not know that any word of mine can give additional interest to this +memorial of William Lloyd Garrison from the pen of one of his earliest +and most devoted friends, whose privilege it has been to share his +confidence and his labors for nearly half a century; but I cannot well +forego the opportunity afforded me to add briefly my testimony to the +tribute to the memory of the great Reformer, whose friendship I have +shared, and with whom I have been associated in a common cause from youth +to age. + +My acquaintance with him commenced in boyhood. My father was a +subscriber to his first paper, the Free Press, and the humanitarian tone +of his editorials awakened a deep interest in our little household, which +was increased by a visit which he made us. When he afterwards edited the +Journal of the Times, at Bennington, Vt., I ventured to write him a +letter of encouragement and sympathy, urging him to continue his labors +against slavery, and assuring him that he could "do great things," an +unconscious prophecy which has been fulfilled beyond the dream of my +boyish enthusiasm. The friendship thus commenced has remained unbroken +through half a century, confirming my early confidence in his zeal and +devotion, and in the great intellectual and moral strength which he +brought to the cause with which his name is identified. + +During the long and hard struggle in which the abolitionists were +engaged, and amidst the new and difficult questions and side-issues which +presented themselves, it could scarcely be otherwise than that +differences of opinion and action should arise among them. The leader +and his disciples could not always see alike. My friend, the author of +this book, I think, generally found himself in full accord with him, +while I often decidedly dissented. I felt it my duty to use my right of +citizenship at the ballot-box in the cause of liberty, while Garrison, +with equal sincerity, judged and counselled otherwise. Each acted under +a sense of individual duty and responsibility, and our personal relations +were undisturbed. If, at times, the great anti-slavery leader failed to +do justice to the motives of those who, while in hearty sympathy with his +hatred of slavery, did not agree with some of his opinions and methods, +it was but the pardonable and not unnatural result of his intensity of +purpose, and his self-identification with the cause he advocated; and, +while compelled to dissent, in some particulars, from his judgment of men +and measures, the great mass of the antislavcry people recognized his +moral leadership. The controversies of old and new organization, +nonresistance and political action, may now be looked upon by the parties +to them, who still survive, with the philosophic calmness which follows +the subsidence of prejudice and passion. We were but fallible men, and +doubtless often erred in feeling, speech, and action. Ours was but the +common experience of reformers in all ages. + + "Never in Custom's oiled grooves + The world to a higher level moves, + But grates and grinds with friction hard + On granite bowlder and flinty shard. + Ever the Virtues blush to find + The Vices wearing their badge behind, + And Graces and Charities feel the fire + Wherein the sins of the age expire." + +It is too late now to dwell on these differences. I choose rather, with +a feeling of gratitude to God, to recall the great happiness of laboring +with the noble company of whom Garrison was the central figure. I love +to think of him as he seemed to me, when in the fresh dawn of manhood he +sat with me in the old Haverhill farmhouse, revolving even then schemes +of benevolence; or, with cheery smile, welcoming me to his frugal meal of +bread and milk in the dingy Boston printing-room; or, as I found him in +the gray December morning in the small attic of a colored man, in +Philadelphia, finishing his night-long task of drafting his immortal +Declaration of Sentiments of the American Anti-Slavery Society; or, as I +saw him in the jail of Leverett Street, after his almost miraculous +escape from the mob, playfully inviting me to share the safe lodgings +which the state had provided for him; and in all the varied scenes and +situations where we acted together our parts in the great endeavor and +success of Freedom. + +The verdict of posterity in his case may be safely anticipated. With the +true reformers and benefactors of his race he occupies a place inferior +to none other. The private lives of many who fought well the battles of +humanity have not been without spot or blemish. But his private +character, like his public, knew no dishonor. No shadow of suspicion +rests upon the white statue of a life, the fitting garland of which +should be the Alpine flower that symbolizes noble purity. + + + + +ANTI-SLAVERY ANNIVERSARY. + +Read at the semi-centennial celebration of the American Anti-Slavery +Society at Philadelphia, on the 3d December, 1883. + + OAK KNOLL, DANVERS, MASS., + 11th mo., 30, 1883. + +I NEED not say how gladly I would be with you at the semi-centennial of +the American Anti-Slavery Society. I am, I regret to say, quite unable +to gratify this wish, and can only represent myself by a letter. + +Looking back over the long years of half a century, I can scarcely +realize the conditions under which the convention of 1833 assembled. +Slavery was predominant. Like Apollyon in Pilgrim's Progress, it +"straddled over the whole breadth of the way." Church and state, press +and pulpit, business interests, literature, and fashion were prostrate at +its feet. Our convention, with few exceptions, was composed of men +without influence or position, poor and little known, strong only in +their convictions and faith in the justice of their cause. To onlookers +our endeavor to undo the evil work of two centuries and convert a nation +to the "great renunciation" involved in emancipation must have seemed +absurd in the last degree. Our voices in such an atmosphere found no +echo. We could look for no response but laughs of derision or the +missiles of a mob. + +But we felt that we had the strength of truth on our side; we were right, +and all the world about us was wrong. We had faith, hope, and +enthusiasm, and did our work, nothing doubting, amidst a generation who +first despised and then feared and hated us. For myself I have never +ceased to be grateful to the Divine Providence for the privilege of +taking a part in that work. + +And now for more than twenty years we have had a free country. No slave +treads its soil. The anticipated dangerous consequences of complete +emancipation have not been felt. The emancipated class, as a whole, have +done wisely, and well under circumstances of peculiar difficulty. The +masters have learned that cotton can be raised better by free than by +slave labor, and nobody now wishes a return to slave-holding. Sectional +prejudices are subsiding, the bitterness of the civil war is slowly +passing away. We are beginning to feel that we are one people, with no +really clashing interests, and none more truly rejoice in the growing +prosperity of the South than the old abolitionists, who hated slavery as +a curse to the master as well as to the slave. + +In view of this commemorative semi-centennial occasion, many thoughts +crowd upon me; memory recalls vanished faces and voices long hushed. Of +those who acted with me in the convention fifty years ago nearly all have +passed into another state of being. We who remain must soon follow; we +have seen the fulfilment of our desire; we have outlived scorn and +persecution; the lengthening shadows invite us to rest. If, in looking +back, we feel that we sometimes erred through impatient zeal in our +contest with a great wrong, we have the satisfaction of knowing that we +were influenced by no merely selfish considerations. The low light of +our setting sun shines over a free, united people, and our last prayer +shall be for their peace, prosperity, and happiness. + + + + +RESPONSE TO THE CELEBRATION OF MY EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY + +BY THE COLORED CITIZENS OF WASHINGTON D. C. + +To R. H. TERRELL AND GEORGE W. WILLIAMS, ESQUIRES. + +GENTLEMEN,--Among the great number of tokens of interest and good-will +which reached me on my birthday, none have touched me more deeply than +the proceedings of the great meeting of the colored citizens of the +nation's capital, of which you are the representatives. The resolutions +of that meeting came to me as the voice of millions of my fellow- +countrymen. That voice was dumb in slavery when, more than half a +century ago, I put forth my plea for the freedom of the slave. + +It could not answer me from the rice swamp and cotton field, but now, God +be praised, it speaks from your great meeting in Washington and from all +the colleges and schools where the youth of your race are taught. I +scarcely expected then that the people for whom I pleaded would ever know +of my efforts in their behalf. I cannot be too thankful to the Divine +Providence that I have lived to hear their grateful response. + +I stand amazed at the rapid strides which your people have made since +emancipation, at your industry, your acquisition of property and land, +your zeal for education, your self-respecting but unresentful attitude +toward those who formerly claimed to be your masters, your pathetic but +manly appeal for just treatment and recognition. I see in all this the +promise that the time is not far distant when, in common with the white +race, you will have the free, undisputed rights of American citizenship +in all parts of the Union, and your rightful share in the honors as well +as the protection of the government. + +Your letter would have been answered sooner if it had been possible. I +have been literally overwhelmed with letters and telegrams, which, owing +to illness, I have been in a great measure unable to answer or even read. + +I tender to you, gentlemen, and to the people you represent my heartfelt +thanks, and the assurance that while life lasts you will find me, as I +have been heretofore, under more difficult circumstances, your faithful +friend. + +OAK KNOLL, DANVERS, MASS., +first mo., 9, 1888. + + + + +REFORM AND POLITICS. UTOPIAN SCHEMES AND POLITICAL THEORISTS. + +THERE is a large class of men, not in Europe alone, but in this country +also, whose constitutional conservatism inclines them to regard any +organic change in the government of a state or the social condition of +its people with suspicion and distrust. They admit, perhaps, the evils +of the old state of things; but they hold them to be inevitable, the +alloy necessarily mingled with all which pertains to fallible humanity. +Themselves generally enjoying whatever of good belongs to the political +or social system in which their lot is cast, they are disposed to look +with philosophic indifference upon the evil which only afflicts their +neighbors. They wonder why people are not contented with their +allotments; they see no reason for change; they ask for quiet and peace +in their day; being quite well satisfied with that social condition which +an old poet has quaintly described:-- + + "The citizens like pounded pikes; + The lesser feed the great; + The rich for food seek stomachs, + And the poor for stomachs meat." + +This class of our fellow-citizens have an especial dislike of theorists, +reformers, uneasy spirits, speculators upon the possibilities of the +world's future, constitution builders, and believers in progress. They +are satisfied; the world at least goes well enough with them; they sit as +comfortable in it as Lafontaine's rat in the cheese; and why should those +who would turn it upside down come hither also? Why not let well enough +alone? Why tinker creeds, constitutions, and laws, and disturb the good +old-fashioned order of things in church and state? The idea of making +the world better and happier is to them an absurdity. He who entertains +it is a dreamer and a visionary, destitute of common sense and practical +wisdom. His project, whatever it may be, is at once pronounced to be +impracticable folly, or, as they are pleased to term it, _Utopian._ + +The romance of Sir Thomas More, which has long afforded to the +conservatives of church and state a term of contempt applicable to all +reformatory schemes and innovations, is one of a series of fabulous +writings, in which the authors, living in evil times and unable to +actualize their plans for the well-being of society, have resorted to +fiction as a safe means of conveying forbidden truths to the popular +mind. Plato's "Timaeus," the first of the series, was written after the +death of Socrates and the enslavement of the author's country. In this +are described the institutions of the Island of Atlantis,--the writer's +ideal of a perfect commonwealth. Xenophon, in his "Cyropaedia," has also +depicted an imaginary political society by overlaying with fiction +historical traditions. At a later period we have the "New Atlantis" of +Lord Bacon, and that dream of the "City of the Sun" with which Campanella +solaced himself in his long imprisonment. + +The "Utopia" of More is perhaps the best of its class. It is the work of +a profound thinker, the suggestive speculations and theories of one who +could + + "Forerun his age and race, and let + His feet millenniums hence be set + In midst of knowledge dreamed not yet." + +Much of what he wrote as fiction is now fact, a part of the frame-work of +European governments, and the political truths of his imaginary state are +now practically recognized in our own democratic system. As might be +expected, in view of the times in which the author wrote, and the +exceedingly limited amount of materials which he found ready to his hands +for the construction of his social and political edifice, there is a want +of proportion and symmetry in the structure. Many of his theories are no +doubt impracticable and unsound. But, as a whole, the work is an +admirable one, striding in advance of the author's age, and prefiguring a +government of religious toleration and political freedom. The following +extract from it was doubtless regarded in his day as something worse than +folly or the dream of a visionary enthusiast:-- + +"He judged it wrong to lay down anything rashly, and seemed to doubt +whether these different forms of religion might not all come from God, +who might inspire men in a different manner, and be pleased with the +variety. He therefore thought it to be indecent and foolish for any man +to threaten and terrify another, to make him believe what did not strike +him as true." + +Passing by the "Telemachus" of Fenelon, we come to the political romance +of Harrington, written in the time of Cromwell. "Oceana" is the name by +which the author represents England; and the republican plan of +government which he describes with much minuteness is such as he would +have recommended for adoption in case a free commonwealth had been +established. It deals somewhat severely with Cromwell's usurpation; yet +the author did not hesitate to dedicate it to that remarkable man, who, +after carefully reading it, gave it back to his daughter, Lady Claypole, +with the remark, full of characteristic bluntness, that "the gentleman +need not think to cheat him of his power and authority; for what he had +won with the sword he would never suffer himself to be scribbled out of." + +Notwithstanding the liberality and freedom of his speculations upon +government and religion in his Utopia, it must be confessed that Sir +Thomas More, in after life, fell into the very practices of intolerance +and bigotry which he condemned. When in the possession of the great seal +under that scandal of kingship, Henry VIII., he gave his countenance to +the persecution of heretics. Bishop Burnet says of him, that he caused a +gentleman of the Temple to be whipped and put to the rack in his +presence, in order to compel him to discover those who favored heretical +opinions. In his Utopia he assailed the profession of the law with +merciless satire; yet the satirist himself finally sat upon the +chancellor's woolsack; and, as has been well remarked by Horace Smith, +"if, from this elevated seat, he ever cast his eyes back upon his past +life, he must have smiled at the fond conceit which could imagine a +permanent Utopia, when he himself, certainly more learned, honest, and +conscientious than the mass of men has ever been, could in the course of +one short life fall into such glaring and frightful rebellion against his +own doctrines." + +Harrington, on the other hand, as became the friend of Milton and Marvel, +held fast, through good and evil report, his republican faith. He +published his work after the Restoration, and defended it boldly and ably +from the numerous attacks made upon it. Regarded as too dangerous an +enthusiast to be left at liberty, he was imprisoned at the instance of +Lord Chancellor Hyde, first in the Tower, and afterwards on the Island of +St. Nicholas, where disease and imprudent remedies brought on a partial +derangement, from which he never recovered. + +Bernardin St. Pierre, whose pathetic tale of "Paul and Virginia" has +found admirers in every language of the civilized world, in a fragment, +entitled "Arcadia," attempted to depict an ideal republic, without +priest, noble, or slave, where all are so religious that each man is the +pontiff of his family, where each man is prepared to defend his country, +and where all are in such a state of equality that there are no such +persons as servants. The plan of it was suggested by his friend Rousseau +during their pleasant walking excursions about the environs of Paris, in +which the two enthusiastic philosophers, baffled by the evil passions and +intractable materials of human nature as manifested in existing society, +comforted themselves by appealing from the actual to the possible, from +the real to the imaginary. Under the chestnut-trees of the Bois de +Boulogne, through long summer days, the two friends, sick of the noisy +world about them, yet yearning to become its benefactors,--gladly +escaping from it, yet busy with schemes for its regeneration and +happiness,--at once misanthropes and philanthropists,--amused and solaced +themselves by imagining a perfect and simple state of society, in which +the lessons of emulation and selfish ambition were never to be taught; +where, on the contrary, the young were to obey their parents, and to +prefer father, mother, brother, sister, wife, and friend to themselves. +They drew beautiful pictures of a country blessed with peace, indus try, +and love, covered with no disgusting monuments of violence and pride and +luxury, without columns, triumphal arches, hospitals, prisons, or +gibbets; but presenting to view bridges over torrents, wells on the arid +plain, groves of fruit-trees, and houses of shelter for the traveller in +desert places, attesting everywhere the sentiment of humanity. Religion +was to speak to all hearts in the eternal language of Nature. Death was +no longer to be feared; perspectives of holy consolation were to open +through the cypress shadows of the tomb; to live or to die was to be +equally an object of desire. + +The plan of the "Arcadia" of St. Pierre is simply this: A learned young +Egyptian, educated at Thebes by the priests of Osiris, desirous of +benefiting humanity, undertakes a voyage to Gaul for the purpose of +carrying thither the arts and religion of Egypt. He is shipwrecked on +his return in the Gulf of Messina, and lands upon the coast, where he is +entertained by an Arcadian, to whom he relates his adventures, and from +whom he receives in turn an account of the simple happiness and peace of +Arcadia, the virtues and felicity of whose inhabitants are beautifully +exemplified in the lives and conversation of the shepherd and his +daughter. This pleasant little prose poem closes somewhat abruptly. +Although inferior in artistic skill to "Paul and Virginia" or the "Indian +Cottage", there is not a little to admire in the simple beauty of its +pastoral descriptions. The closing paragraph reminds one of Bunyan's +upper chamber, where the weary pilgrim's windows opened to the sunrising +and the singing of birds:-- + +"Tyrteus conducted his guests to an adjoining chamber. It had a window +shut by a curtain of rushes, through the crevices of which the islands of +the Alpheus might be seen in the light of the moon. There were in this +chamber two excellent beds, with coverlets of warm and light wool. + +"Now, as soon as Amasis was left alone with Cephas, he spoke with joy of +the delight and tranquillity of the valley, of the goodness of the +shepherd, and the grace of his young daughter, to whom he had seen none +worthy to be compared, and of the pleasure which he promised himself the +next day, at the festival on Mount Lyceum, of beholding a whole people as +happy as this sequestered family. Converse so delightful might have +charmed away the night without the aid of sleep, had they not been +invited to repose by the mild light of the moon shining through the +window, the murmuring wind in the leaves of the poplars, and the distant +noise of the Achelous, which falls roaring from the summit of Mount +Lyceum." + +The young patrician wits of Athens doubtless laughed over Plato's ideal +republic. Campanella's "City of the Sun" was looked upon, no doubt, as +the distempered vision of a crazy state prisoner. Bacon's college, in +his "New Atlantis," moved the risibles of fat-witted Oxford. More's +"Utopia," as we know, gave to our language a new word, expressive of the +vagaries and dreams of fanatics and lunatics. The merciless wits, +clerical and profane, of the court of Charles II. regarded Harrington's +romance as a perfect godsend to their vocation of ridicule. The gay +dames and carpet knights of Versailles made themselves merry with the +prose pastoral of St. Pierre; and the poor old enthusiast went down to +his grave without finding an auditory for his lectures upon natural +society. + +The world had its laugh over these romances. When unable to refute their +theories, it could sneer at the authors, and answer them to the +satisfaction of the generation in which they lived, at least by a general +charge of lunacy. Some of their notions were no doubt as absurd as those +of the astronomer in "Rasselas", who tells Imlac that he has for five +years possessed the regulation of the weather, and has got the secret of +making to the different nations an equal and impartial dividend of rain +and sunshine. But truth, even when ushered into the world through the +medium of a dull romance and in connection with a vast progeny of errors, +however ridiculed and despised at first, never fails in the end of +finding a lodging-place in the popular mind. The speculations of the +political theorists whom we have noticed have not all proved to be of + + "such stuff + As dreams are made of, and their little life + Rounded with sleep." + +They have entered into and become parts of the social and political +fabrics of Europe and America. The prophecies of imagination have been +fulfilled; the dreams of romance have become familiar realities. + +What is the moral suggested by this record? Is it not that we should +look with charity and tolerance upon the schemes and speculations of the +political and social theorists of our day; that, if unprepared to venture +upon new experiments and radical changes, we should at least consider +that what was folly to our ancestors is our wisdom, and that another +generation may successfully put in practice the very theories which now +seem to us absurd and impossible? Many of the evils of society have been +measurably removed or ameliorated; yet now, as in the days of the +Apostle, "the creation groaneth and travaileth in pain;" and although +quackery and empiricism abound, is it not possible that a proper +application of some of the remedies proposed might ameliorate the general +suffering? Rejecting, as we must, whatever is inconsistent with or +hostile to the doctrines of Christianity, on which alone rests our hope +for humanity, it becomes us to look kindly upon all attempts to apply +those doctrines to the details of human life, to the social, political, +and industrial relations of the race. If it is not permitted us to +believe all things, we can at least hope them. Despair is infidelity and +death. Temporally and spiritually, the declaration of inspiration holds +good, "We are saved by hope." + + + + +PECULIAR INSTITUTIONS OF MASSACHUSETTS. (1851.) + +BERNARDIN ST. PIERRE, in his Wishes of a Solitary, asks for his country +neither wealth, nor military glory, nor magnificent palaces and +monuments, nor splendor of court nobility, nor clerical pomp. "Rather," +he says, "O France, may no beggar tread thy plains, no sick or suffering +man ask in vain for relief; in all thy hamlets may every young woman find +a lover and every lover a true wife; may the young be trained arightly +and guarded from evil; may the old close their days in the tranquil hope +of those who love God and their fellow-men." + +We are reminded of the amiable wish of the French essayist--a wish even +yet very far from realization, we fear, in the empire of Napoleon III.-- +by the perusal of two documents recently submitted to the legislature of +the State of Massachusetts. They indicate, in our view, the real glory +of a state, and foreshadow the coming of that time when Milton's +definition of a true commonwealth shall be no longer a prophecy, but the +description of an existing fact,--"a huge Christian personage, a mighty +growth and stature of an honest man, moved by the purpose of a love of +God and of mankind." + +Some years ago, the Legislature of Massachusetts, at the suggestion of +several benevolent gentlemen whose attention had been turned to the +subject, appointed a commission to inquire into the condition of the +idiots of the Commonwealth, to ascertain their numbers, and whether +anything could be done in their behalf. + +The commissioners were Dr. Samuel G. Howe, so well and honorably known +for his long and arduous labors in behalf of the blind, Judge Byington, +and Dr. Gilman Kimball. The burden of the labor fell upon the chairman, +who entered upon it with the enthusiasm, perseverance, and practical +adaptation of means to ends which have made him so efficient in his +varied schemes of benevolence. On the 26th of the second month, 1848, a +full report of the results of this labor was made to the Governor, +accompanied by statistical tables and minute details. One hundred towns +had been visited by the chairman or his reliable agent, in which five +hundred and seventy-five persons in a state of idiocy were discovered. +These were examined carefully in respect to their physical as well as +mental condition, no inquiry being omitted which was calculated to throw +light upon the remote or immediate causes of this mournful imperfection +in the creation of God. The proximate causes Dr. Howe mentions are to be +found in the state of the bodily organization, deranged and +disproportioned by some violation of natural law on the part of the +parents or remoter ancestors of the sufferers. Out of 420 cases of +idiocy, he had obtained information respecting the condition of the +progenitors of 359; and in all but four of these eases he found that one +or the other, or both, of their immediate progenitors had in some way +departed widely from the condition of health; they were scrofulous, or +predisposed to affections of the brain, and insanity, or had intermarried +with blood-relations, or had been intemperate, or guilty of sensual +excesses. + +Of the 575 cases, 420 were those of idiocy from birth, and 155 of idiocy +afterwards. Of the born idiots, 187 were under twenty-five years of age, +and all but 13 seemed capable of improvement. Of those above twenty-five +years of age, 73 appeared incapable of improvement in their mental +condition, being helpless as children at seven years of age; 43 out of +the 420 seemed as helpless as children at two years of age; 33 were in +the condition of mere infants; and 220 were supported at the public +charge in almshouses. A large proportion of them were found to be given +over to filthy and loathsome habits, gluttony, and lust, and constantly +sinking lower towards the condition of absolute brutishness. + +Those in private houses were found, if possible, in a still more +deplorable state. Their parents were generally poor, feeble in mind and +body, and often of very intemperate habits. Many of them seemed scarcely +able to take care of themselves, and totally unfit for the training of +ordinary children. It was the blind leading the blind, imbecility +teaching imbecility. Some instances of the experiments of parental +ignorance upon idiotic offspring, which fell under the observation of Dr. +Howe, are related in his report Idiotic children were found with their +heads covered over with cold poultices of oak-bark, which the foolish +parents supposed would tan the brain and harden it as the tanner does his +ox-hides, and so make it capable of retaining impressions and remembering +lessons. In other cases, finding that the child could not be made to +comprehend anything, the sagacious heads of the household, on the +supposition that its brain was too hard, tortured it with hot poultices +of bread and milk to soften it. Others plastered over their children's +heads with tar. Some administered strong doses of mercury, to "solder up +the openings" in the head and make it tight and strong. Others +encouraged the savage gluttony of their children, stimulating their +unnatural and bestial appetites, on the ground that "the poor creatures +had nothing else to enjoy but their food, and they should have enough of +that!" + +In consequence of this report, the legislature, in the spring of 1848, +made an annual appropriation of twenty-five hundred dollars, for three +years, for the purpose of training and teaching ten idiot children, to be +selected by the Governor and Council. The trustees of the Asylum for the +Blind, under the charge of Dr. Howe, made arrangements for receiving +these pupils. The school was opened in the autumn of 1848; and its first +annual report, addressed to the Governor and printed by order of the +Senate, is now before us. + +Of the ten pupils, it appears that not one had the usual command of +muscular motion,--the languid body obeyed not the service of the imbecile +will. Some could walk and use their limbs and hands in simple motions; +others could make only make slight use of their muscles; and two were +without any power of locomotion. + +One of these last, a boy six years of age, who had been stupefied on the +day of his birth by the application of hot rum to his head, could +scarcely see or notice objects, and was almost destitute of the sense of +touch. He could neither stand nor sit upright, nor even creep, but would +lie on the floor in whatever position he was placed. He could not feed +himself nor chew solid food, and had no more sense of decency than an +infant. His intellect was a blank; he had no knowledge, no desires, no +affections. A more hopeless object for experiment could scarcely have +been selected. + +A year of patient endeavor has nevertheless wrought a wonderful change in +the condition of this miserable being. Cold bathing, rubbing of the +limbs, exercise of the muscles, exposure to the air, and other appliances +have enabled him to stand upright, to sit at table and feed himself, and +chew his food, and to walk about with slight assistance. His habits are +no longer those of a brute; he observes decency; his eye is brighter; his +cheeks glow with health; his countenance, is more expressive of thought. +He has learned many words and constructs simple sentences; his affections +begin to develop; and there is every prospect that he will be so far +renovated as to be able to provide for himself in manhood. + +In the case of another boy, aged twelve years, the improvement has been +equally remarkable. The gentleman who first called attention to him, in +a recent note to Dr. Howe, published in the report, thus speaks of his +present condition: "When I remember his former wild and almost frantic +demeanor when approached by any one, and the apparent impossibility of +communicating with him, and now see him standing in his class, playing +with his fellows, and willingly and familiarly approaching me, examining +what I gave him,--and when I see him already selecting articles named by +his teacher, and even correctly pronouncing words printed on cards,-- +improvement does not convey the idea presented to my mind; it is +creation; it is making him anew." + +All the pupils have more or less advanced. Their health and habits have +improved; and there is no reason to doubt that the experiment, at the +close of its three years, will be found to have been quite as successful +as its most sanguine projectors could have anticipated. Dr. Howe has +been ably seconded by an accomplished teacher, James B. Richards, who has +devoted his whole time to the pupils. Of the nature and magnitude of +their task, an idea may be formed only by considering the utter +listlessness of idiocy, the incapability of the poor pupil to fix his +attention upon anything, and his general want of susceptibility to +impressions. All his senses are dulled and perverted. Touch, hearing, +sight, smell, are all more or less defective. His gluttony is +unaccompanied with the gratification of taste,--the most savory viands +and the offal which he shares with the pigs equally satisfy him. His +mental state is still worse than his physical. Thought is painful and +irksome to him. + +His teacher can only engage his attention by strenuous efforts, loud, +earnest tones, gesticulations and signs, and a constant presentation of +some visible object of bright color and striking form. The eye wanders, +and the spark of consciousness and intelligence which has been fanned +into momentary brightness darkens at the slightest relaxation of the +teacher's exertions. The names of objects presented to him must +sometimes be repeated hundreds of times before he can learn them. Yet +the patience and enthusiasm of the teacher are rewarded by a progress, +slow and unequal, but still marked and manifest. Step by step, often +compelled to turn back and go over the inch of ground he had gained, the +idiot is still creeping forward; and by almost imperceptible degrees his +sick, cramped, and prisoned spirit casts off the burden of its body of +death, breath as from the Almighty--is breathed into him, and he becomes +a living soul. + +After the senses of the idiot are trained to take note +of their appropriate objects, the various perceptive faculties are next +to be exercised. The greatest possible number of facts are to be +gathered up through the medium of these faculties into the storehouse of +memory, from whence eventually the higher faculties of mind may draw the +material of general ideas. It has been found difficult, if not +impossible, to teach the idiot to read by the letters first, as in the +ordinary method; but while the varied powers of the three letters, h, a, +t, could not be understood by him, he could be made to comprehend the +complex sign of the word hat, made by uniting the three. + +The moral nature of the idiot needs training and development as well as +his physical and mental. All that can be said of him is, that he has the +latent capacity for moral development and culture. Uninstructed and left +to himself, he has no ideas of regulated appetites and propensities, of +decency and delicacy of affection and social relations. The germs of +these ideas, which constitute the glory and beauty of humanity, +undoubtedly exist in him; but there can be no growth without patient and +persevering culture. Where this is afforded, to use the language of the +report, "the idiot may learn what love is, though he may not know the +word which expresses it; he may feel kindly affections while unable to +understand the simplest virtuous principle; and he may begin to live +acceptably to God before he has learned the name by which men call him." + +In the facts and statistics presented in the report, light is shed upon +some of the dark pages of God's providence, and it is seen that the +suffering and shame of idiocy are the result of sin, of a violation of +the merciful laws of God and of the harmonies of His benign order. The +penalties which are ordained for the violators of natural laws are +inexorable and certain. For the transgressor of the laws of life there +is, as in the case of Esau, "no place for repentance, though he seek it +earnestly and with tears." The curse cleaves to him and his children. +In this view, how important becomes the subject of the hereditary +transmission of moral and physical disease and debility! and how +necessary it is that there should be a clearer understanding of, and a +willing obedience, at any cost, to the eternal law which makes the parent +the blessing or the curse of the child, giving strength and beauty, and +the capacity to know and do the will of God, or bequeathing +loathsomeness, deformity, and animal appetite, incapable of the +restraints of the moral faculties! Even if the labors of Dr. Howe and +his benevolent associates do not materially lessen the amount of present +actual evil and suffering in this respect, they will not be put forth in +vain if they have the effect of calling public attention to the great +laws of our being, the violation of which has made this goodly earth a +vast lazarhouse of pain and sorrow. + +The late annual message of the Governor of Massachusetts invites our +attention to a kindred institution of charity. The chief magistrate +congratulates the legislature, in language creditable to his mind and +heart, on the opening of the Reform School for Juvenile Criminals, +established by an act of a previous legislature. The act provides that, +when any boy under sixteen years of age shall be convicted of crime +punishable by imprisonment other than such an offence as is punished by +imprisonment for life, he may be, at the discretion of the court or +justice, sent to the State Reform School, or sentenced to such +imprisonment as the law now provides for his offence. The school is +placed under the care of trustees, who may either refuse to receive a boy +thus sent there, or, after he has been received, for reasons set forth in +the act, may order him to be committed to prison under the previous penal +law of the state. They are also authorized to apprentice the boys, at +their discretion, to inhabitants of the Commonwealth. And whenever any +boy shall be discharged, either as reformed or as having reached the age +of twenty-one years, his discharge is a full release from his sentence. + +It is made the duty of the trustees to cause the boys to be instructed in +piety and morality, and in branches of useful knowledge, in some regular +course of labor, mechanical, agricultural, or horticultural, and such +other trades and arts as may be best adapted to secure the amendment, +reformation, and future benefit of the boys. The class of offenders for +whom this act provides are generally the offspring of parents depraved by +crime or suffering from poverty and want,--the victims often of +circumstances of evil which almost constitute a necessity,--issuing from +homes polluted and miserable, from the sight and hearing of loathsome +impurities and hideous discords, to avenge upon society the ignorance, +and destitution, and neglect with which it is too often justly +chargeable. In 1846 three hundred of these youthful violators of law +were sentenced to jails and other places of punishment in Massachusetts, +where they incurred the fearful liability of being still more thoroughly +corrupted by contact with older criminals, familiar with atrocity, and +rolling their loathsome vices "as a sweet morsel under the tongue." In +view of this state of things the Reform School has been established, +twenty-two thousand dollars having been contributed to the state for that +purpose by an unknown benefactor of his race. The school is located in +Westboro', on a fine farm of two hundred acres. The buildings are in the +form of a square, with a court in the centre, three stories in front, +with wings. They are constructed with a degree of architectural taste, +and their site is happily chosen,--a gentle eminence, overlooking one of +the loveliest of the small lakes which form a pleasing feature in New +England scenery. From this place the atmosphere and associations of the +prison are excluded. The discipline is strict, as a matter of course; +but it is that of a well-regulated home or school-room,--order, neatness, +and harmony within doors; and without, the beautiful 'sights and sounds +and healthful influences of Nature. One would almost suppose that the +poetical dream of Coleridge, in his tragedy of Remorse, had found its +realization in the Westboro' School, and that, weary of the hopelessness +and cruelty of the old penal system, our legislators had embodied in +their statutes the idea of the poet:-- + + "With other ministrations thou, O Nature, + Healest thy wandering and distempered child + Thou pourest on him thy soft influences, + Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets, + Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters, + Till he relent, and can no more endure + To be a jarring and a dissonant thing + Amidst this general dance and minstrelsy." + +Thus it is that the Christian idea of reformation, rather than revenge, +is slowly but surely incorporating itself in our statute books. We have +only to look back but a single century to be able to appreciate the +immense gain for humanity in the treatment of criminals which has been +secured in that space of time. Then the use of torture was common +throughout Europe. Inability to comprehend and believe certain religious +dogmas was a crime to be expiated by death, or confiscation of estate, or +lingering imprisonment. Petty offences against property furnished +subjects for the hangman. The stocks and the whipping-post stood by the +side of the meeting-house. Tongues were bored with redhot irons and ears +shorn off. The jails were loathsome dungeons, swarming with vermin, +unventilated, unwarmed. A century and a half ago the populace of +Massachusetts were convulsed with grim merriment at the writhings of a +miserable woman scourged at the cart-tail or strangling in the ducking- +stool; crowds hastened to enjoy the spectacle of an old man enduring the +unutterable torment of the 'peine forte et dare,'--pressed slowly to +death under planks,--for refusing to plead to an indictment for +witchcraft. What a change from all this to the opening of the State +Reform School, to the humane regulations of prisons and penitentiaries, +to keen-eyed benevolence watching over the administration of justice, +which, in securing society from lawless aggression, is not suffered to +overlook the true interest and reformation of the criminal, nor to forget +that the magistrate, in the words of the Apostle, is to be indeed "the +minister of God to man for good!" + + + + +LORD ASHLEY AND THE THIEVES. + +"THEY that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick," was +the significant answer of our Lord to the self-righteous Pharisees who +took offence at his companions,--the poor, the degraded, the weak, and +the sinful. "Go ye and learn what that meaneth, I will have mercy, and +not sacrifice; for I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners to +repentance." + +The great lesson of duty inculcated by this answer of the Divine Teacher +has been too long overlooked by individuals and communities professedly +governed by His maxims. The phylacteries of our modern Pharisees are as +broad as those of the old Jewish saints. The respectable Christian +detests his vicious and ill-conditioned neighbors as heartily as the +Israelite did the publicans and sinners of his day. He folds his robe of +self-righteousness closely about him, and denounces as little better than +sinful weakness all commiseration for the guilty; and all attempts to +restore and reclaim the erring violators of human law otherwise than by +pains and penalties as wicked collusion with crime, dangerous to the +stability and safety of society, and offensive in the sight of God. And +yet nothing is more certain than that, just in proportion as the example +of our Lord has been followed in respect to the outcast and criminal, the +effect has been to reform and elevate,--to snatch as brands from the +burning souls not yet wholly given over to the service of evil. The +wonderful influence for good exerted over the most degraded and reckless +criminals of London by the excellent and self-denying Elizabeth Fry, the +happy results of the establishment of houses of refuge, and reformation, +and Magdalen asylums, all illustrate the wisdom of Him who went about +doing good, in pointing out the morally diseased as the appropriate +subjects of the benevolent labors of His disciples. No one is to be +despaired of. We have no warrant to pass by any of our fellow-creatures +as beyond the reach of God's grace and mercy; for, beneath the most +repulsive and hateful outward manifestation, there is always a +consciousness of the beauty of goodness and purity, and of the +loathsomeness of sin,--one chamber of the heart as yet not wholly +profaned, whence at times arises the prayer of a burdened and miserable +spirit for deliverance. Deep down under the squalid exterior, +unparticipative in the hideous merriment and recklessness of the +criminal, there is another self,--a chained and suffering inner man,-- +crying out, in the intervals of intoxication and brutal excesses, like +Jonah from the bosom of hell. To this lingering consciousness the +sympathy and kindness of benevolent and humane spirits seldom appeal in +vain; for, whatever may be outward appearances, it remains true that the +way of the transgressor is hard, and that sin and suffering are +inseparable. Crime is seldom loved or persevered in for its own sake; +but, when once the evil path is entered upon, a return is in reality +extremely difficult to the unhappy wanderer, and often seems as well nigh +impossible. The laws of social life rise up like insurmountable barriers +between him and escape. As he turns towards the society whose rights he +has outraged, its frown settles upon him; the penalties of the laws he +has violated await him; and he falls back despairing, and suffers the +fetters of the evil habit to whose power he has yielded himself to be +fastened closer and heavier upon him. O for some good angel, in the form +of a brother-man and touched with a feeling of his sins and infirmities, +to reassure his better nature and to point out a way of escape from its +body of death! + +We have been led into these remarks by an account, given in the London +Weekly Chronicle, of a most remarkable interview between the professional +thieves of London and Lord Ashley,--a gentleman whose best patent of +nobility is to be found in his generous and untiring devotion to the +interests of his fellow-men. It appears that a philanthropic gentleman +in London had been applied to by two young thieves, who had relinquished +their evil practices and were obtaining a precarious but honest +livelihood by picking up bones and rags in the streets, their loss of +character closing against them all other employments. He had just been +reading an address of Lord Ashley's in favor of colonial emigration, and +he was led to ask one of the young men how he would like to emigrate. + +"I should jump at the chance!" was the reply. Not long after the +gentleman was sent for to visit one of those obscure and ruinous courts +of the great metropolis where crime and poverty lie down together,-- +localities which Dickens has pictured with such painful distinctness. +Here, to his surprise, he met a number of thieves and outlaws, who +declared themselves extremely anxious to know whether any hope could be +held out to them of obtaining an honest living, however humble, in the +colonies, as their only reason for continuing in their criminal course +was the impossibility of extricating themselves. He gave them such +advice and encouragement as he was able, and invited them to assemble +again, with such of their companions as they could persuade to do so, at +the room of the Irish Free School, for the purpose of meeting Lord +Ashley. On the 27th of the seventh month last the meeting took place. +At the hour appointed, Lord Ashley and five or six other benevolent +gentlemen, interested in emigration as a means of relief and reformation +to the criminal poor, entered the room, which was already well-nigh +filled. Two hundred and seven professed thieves were present. "Several +of the most experienced thieves were stationed at the door to prevent the +admission of any but thieves. Some four or five individuals, who were +not at first known, were subjected to examination, and only allowed to +remain on stating that they were, and being recognized as, members of the +dishonest fraternity; and before the proceedings of the evening commenced +the question was very carefully put, and repeated several times, whether +any one was in the room of whom others entertained doubts as to who he +was. The object of this care was, as so many of them were in danger of +'getting into trouble,' or, in other words, of being taken up for their +crimes, to ascertain if any who might betray them were present; and +another intention of this scrutiny was, to give those assembled, who +naturally would feel considerable fear, a fuller confidence in opening +their minds." + +What a novel conference between the extremes of modern society! All that +is beautiful in refinement and education, moral symmetry and Christian +grace, contrasting with the squalor, the ignorance, the lifelong +depravity of men living "without God in the world,"--the pariahs of +civilization,--the moral lepers, at the sight of whom decency covers its +face, and cries out, "Unclean!" After a prayer had been offered, Lord +Ashley spoke at considerable length, making a profound impression on his +strange auditory as they listened to his plans of emigration, which +offered them an opportunity to escape from their miserable condition and +enter upon a respectable course of life. The hard heart melted and the +cold and cruel eye moistened. With one accord the wretched felons +responded to the language of Christian love and good-will, and declared +their readiness to follow the advice of their true friend. They looked +up to him as to an angel of mercy, and felt the malignant spirits which +had so long tormented them disarmed of all power of evil in the presence +of simple goodness. He stood in that felon audience like Spenser's Una +amidst the satyrs; unassailable and secure in the "unresistible might of +meekness," and panoplied in that "noble grace which dashed brute violence +with sudden adoration and mute awe." + +Twenty years ago, when Elizabeth Fry ventured to visit those "spirits in +prison,"--the female tenants of Newgate,--her temerity was regarded with +astonishment, and her hope of effecting a reformation in the miserable +objects of her sympathy was held to be wholly visionary. Her personal +safety and the blessed fruits of her labors, nevertheless, confirmed the +language of her Divine Master to His disciples when He sent them forth as +lambs among wolves: "Behold, I give unto you power over all the power of +the enemy." The still more unpromising experiment of Lord Ashley, thus +far, has been equally successful; and we hail it as the introduction of a +new and more humane method of dealing with the victims of sin and +ignorance, and the temptations growing out of the inequalities and vices +of civilization. + + + + +WOMAN SUFFRAGE. + + Letter to the Newport Convention. + + AMESBURY, MASS., 12th, 8th Month, 1869. + +I HAVE received thy letter inviting me to attend the Convention in behalf +of Woman's Suffrage, at Newport, R. I., on the 25th inst. I do not see +how it is possible for me to accept the invitation; and, were I to do so, +the state of my health would prevent me from taking such a part in the +meeting as would relieve me from the responsibility of seeming to +sanction anything in its action which might conflict with my own views of +duty or policy. Yet I should do myself great injustice if I did not +embrace this occasion to express my general sympathy with the movement. +I have seen no good reason why mothers, wives, and daughters should not +have the same right of person, property, and citizenship which fathers, +husbands, and brothers have. + +The sacred memory of mother and sister; the wisdom and dignity of women +of my own religious communion who have been accustomed to something like +equality in rights as well as duties; my experience as a co-worker with +noble and self-sacrificing women, as graceful and helpful in their +household duties as firm and courageous in their public advocacy of +unpopular truth; the steady friendships which have inspired and +strengthened me, and the reverence and respect which I feel for human +nature, irrespective of sex, compel me to look with something more than +acquiescence on the efforts you are making. I frankly confess that I am +not able to forsee all the consequences of the great social and political +change proposed, but of this I am, at least, sure, it is always safe to +do right, and the truest expediency is simple justice. I can understand, +without sharing, the misgivings of those who fear that, when the vote +drops from woman's hand into the ballot-box, the beauty and sentiment, +the bloom and sweetness, of womankind will go with it. But in this +matter it seems to me that we can trust Nature. Stronger than statutes +or conventions, she will be conservative of all that the true man loves +and honors in woman. Here and there may be found an equivocal, unsexed +Chevalier D'Eon, but the eternal order and fitness of things will remain. +I have no fear that man will be less manly or woman less womanly when +they meet on terms of equality before the law. + +On the other hand, I do not see that the exercise of the ballot by woman +will prove a remedy for all the evils of which she justly complains. It +is her right as truly as mine, and when she asks for it, it is something +less than manhood to withhold it. But, unsupported by a more practical +education, higher aims, and a deeper sense of the responsibilities of +life and duty, it is not likely to prove a blessing in her hands any more +than in man's. + +With great respect and hearty sympathy, I am very truly thy friend. + + + + +ITALIAN UNITY + + AMESBURY, MASS., 1st Mo., 4th, 1871. + + Read at the great meeting in New York, January, 1871, in celebration + of the freedom of Rome and complete unity of Italy. + +IT would give me more than ordinary satisfaction to attend the meeting on +the 12th instant for the celebration of Italian Unity, the emancipation +of Rome, and its occupation as the permanent capital of the nation. + +For many years I have watched with deep interest and sympathy the popular +movement on the Italian peninsula, and especially every effort for the +deliverance of Rome from a despotism counting its age by centuries. I +looked at these struggles of the people with little reference to their +ecclesiastical or sectarian bearings. Had I been a Catholic instead of a +Protestant, I should have hailed every symptom of Roman deliverance from +Papal rule, occupying, as I have, the standpoint of a republican radical, +desirous that all men, of all creeds, should enjoy the civil liberty +which I prized so highly for myself. + +I lost all confidence in the French republic of 1849, when it forfeited +its own right to exist by crushing out the newly formed Roman republic +under Mazzini and Garibaldi. From that hour it was doomed, and the +expiation of its monstrous crime is still going on. My sympathies are +with Jules Favre and Leon Gambetta in their efforts to establish and +sustain a republic in France, but I confess that the investment of Paris +by King William seems to me the logical sequence of the bombardment of +Rome by Oudinot. And is it not a significant fact that the terrible +chassepot, which made its first bloody experiment upon the halfarmed +Italian patriots without the walls of Rome, has failed in the hands of +French republicans against the inferior needle-gun of Prussia? It was +said of a fierce actor in the old French Revolution that he demoralized +the guillotine. The massacre at Mentana demoralized the chassepot. + +It is a matter of congratulation that the redemption of Rome has been +effected so easily and bloodlessly. The despotism of a thousand years +fell at a touch in noiseless rottenness. The people of Rome, fifty to +one, cast their ballots of condemnation like so many shovelfuls of earth +upon its grave. Outside of Rome there seems to be a very general +acquiescence in its downfall. No Peter the Hermit preaches a crusade in +its behalf. No one of the great Catholic powers of Europe lifts a finger +for it. Whatever may be the feelings of Isabella of Spain and the +fugitive son of King Bomba, they are in no condition to come to its +rescue. It is reserved for American ecclesiastics, loud-mouthed in +professions of democracy, to make solemn protest against what they call +an "outrage," which gives the people of Rome the right of choosing their +own government, and denies the divine right of kings in the person of Pio +Nono. + +The withdrawal of the temporal power of the Pope will prove a blessing to +the Catholic Church, as well as to the world. Many of its most learned +and devout priests and laymen have long seen the necessity of such a +change, which takes from it a reproach and scandal that could no longer +be excused or tolerated. A century hence it will have as few apologists +as the Inquisition or the massacre of St. Bartholomew. + +In this hour of congratulation let us not forget those whose suffering +and self-sacrifice, in the inscrutable wisdom of Providence, prepared the +way for the triumph which we celebrate. As we call the long, illustrious +roll of Italian patriotism--the young, the brave, and beautiful; the +gray-haired, saintly confessors; the scholars, poets, artists, who, shut +out from human sympathy, gave their lives for God and country in the +slow, dumb agony of prison martyrdom--let us hope that they also rejoice +with us, and, inaudible to earthly ears, unite in our thanksgiving: +"Alleluia! for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth! He hath avenged the +blood of his servants!" + +In the belief that the unity of Italy and the overthrow of Papal rule +will strengthen the cause of liberty throughout the civilized' world, I +am very truly thy friend. + + + + +INDIAN CIVILIZATION. + +THE present condition and future prospects of the remnants of the +aboriginal inhabitants of this continent can scarcely be a matter of +indifference to any class of the people of the United States. Apart from +all considerations of justice and duty, a purely selfish regard to our +own well-being would compel attention to the subject. The irreversible +laws of God's moral government, and the well-attested maxims of political +and social economy, leave us in no doubt that the suffering, neglect, and +wrong of one part of the community must affect all others. A common +responsibility rests upon each and all to relieve suffering, enlighten +ignorance, and redress wrong, and the penalty of neglect in this respect +no nation has ever escaped. + +It is only within a comparatively recent period that the term Indian +Civilization could be appropriately used in this country. Very little +real progress bad been made in this direction, up to the time when +Commissioner Lang in 1844 visited the tribes now most advanced. So +little had been done, that public opinion had acquiesced in the +assumption that the Indians were not susceptible of civilization and +progress. The few experiments had not been calculated to assure a +superficial observer. + +The unsupported efforts of Elliot in New England were counteracted by the +imprisonment, and in some instances the massacre of his "praying +Indians," by white men under the exasperation of war with hostile tribes. +The salutary influence of the Moravians and Friends in Pennsylvania was +greatly weakened by the dreadful massacre of the unarmed and blameless +converts of Gnadenhutten. But since the first visit of Commissioner +Lang, thirty-three years ago, the progress of education, civilization, +and conversion to Christianity, has been of a most encouraging nature, +and if Indian civilization was ever a doubtful problem, it has been +practically solved. + +The nomadic habits and warlike propensities of the native tribes are +indeed formidable but not insuperable difficulties in the way of their +elevation. The wildest of them may compare not unfavorably with those +Northern barbarian hordes that swooped down upon Christian Europe, and +who were so soon the docile pupils and proselytes of the peoples they had +conquered. The Arapahoes and Camanches of our day are no further removed +from the sweetness and light of Christian culture than were the +Scandinavian Sea Kings of the middle centuries, whose gods were patrons +of rapine and cruelty, their heaven a vast, cloud-built ale-house, where +ghostly warriors drank from the skulls of their victims, and whose hell +was a frozen horror of desolation and darkness, to be avoided only by +diligence in robbery and courage in murder. The descendants of these +human butchers are now among the best exponents of the humanizing +influence of the gospel of Christ. The report of the Superintendent of +the remnants of the once fierce and warlike Six Nations, now peaceable +and prosperous in Canada, shows that the Indian is not inferior to the +Norse ancestors of the Danes and Norwegians of our day in capability of +improvement. + +It is scarcely necessary to say, what is universally conceded, that the +wars waged by the Indians against the whites have, in nearly every +instance, been provoked by violations of solemn treaties and systematic +disregard of their rights of person, property, and life. The letter of +Bishop Whipple, of Minnesota, to the New York Tribune of second month, +1877, calls attention to the emphatic language of Generals Sherman, +Harney, Terry, and Augur, written after a full and searching +investigation of the subject: "That the Indian goes to war is not +astonishing: he is often compelled to do so: wrongs are borne by him in +silence, which never fail to drive civilized men to deeds of violence. +The best possible way to avoid war is to do no injustice." + +It is not difficult to understand the feelings of the unfortunate pioneer +settlers on the extreme borders of civilization, upon whom the blind +vengeance of the wronged and hunted Indians falls oftener than upon the +real wrong-doers. They point to terrible and revolting cruelties as +proof that nothing short of the absolute extermination of the race can +prevent their repetition. But a moment's consideration compels us to +admit that atrocious cruelty is not peculiar to the red man. "All wars +are cruel," said General Sherman, and for eighteen centuries Christendom +has been a great battle-field. What Indian raid has been more dreadful +than the sack of Magdeburg, the massacre of Glencoe, the nameless +atrocities of the Duke of Alva in the Netherlands, the murders of St. +Bartholomew's day, the unspeakable agonies of the South of France under +the demoniac rule of revolution! All history, black with crime and red +with blood, is but an awful commentary upon "man's inhumanity to man," +and it teaches us that there is nothing exceptional in the Indian's +ferocity and vindictiveness, and that the alleged reasons for his +extermination would, at one time or another, have applied with equal +force to the whole family of man. + +A late lecture of my friend, Stanley Pumphrey, comprises more of valuable +information and pertinent suggestions on the Indian question than I have +found in any equal space; and I am glad of the opportunity to add to it +my hearty endorsement, and to express the conviction that its general +circulation could not fail to awaken a deeper and more kindly interest in +the condition of the red man, and greatly aid in leading the public mind +to a fuller appreciation of the responsibility which rests upon us as a +people to rectify, as far as possible, past abuses, and in our future +relations to the native owners of the soil to "deal justly and love +mercy." + + + + +READING FOR THE BLIND. (1880.) + +To Mary C. Moore, teacher in the Perkins Asylum. + +DEAR FRIEND,--It gives me great pleasure to know that the pupils in thy +class at the Institution for the Blind have the opportunity afforded them +to read through the sense of touch some of my writings, and thus hold +what I hope will prove a pleasant communion with me. Very glad I shall +be if the pen-pictures of nature, and homely country firesides, which I +have tried to make, are understood and appreciated by those who cannot +discern them by natural vision. I shall count it a great privilege to +see for them, or rather to let them see through my eyes. It is the mind +after all that really sees, shapes, and colors all things. What visions +of beauty and sublimity passed before the inward and spiritual sight of +blind Milton and Beethoven! + +I have an esteemed friend, Morrison Hendy, of Kentucky, who is deaf and +blind; yet under these circumstances he has cultivated his mind to a high +degree, and has written poems of great beauty, and vivid descriptions of +scenes which have been witnessed only by the "light within." + +I thank thee for thy letter, and beg of thee to assure the students that +I am deeply interested in their welfare and progress, and that my prayer +is that their inward and spiritual eyes may become so clear that they can +well dispense with the outward and material ones. + + + + +THE INDIAN QUESTION. + +Read at the meeting in Boston, May, 1883, for the consideration of the +condition of the Indians in the United States. + +AMESBURY, 4th mo., 1883. + +I REGRET that I cannot be present at the meeting called in reference to +the pressing question of the day, the present condition and future +prospects of the Indian race in the United States. The old policy, +however well intended, of the government is no longer available. The +westward setting tide of immigration is everywhere sweeping over the +lines of the reservations. There would seem to be no power in the +government to prevent the practical abrogation of its solemn treaties and +the crowding out of the Indians from their guaranteed hunting grounds. +Outbreaks of Indian ferocity and revenge, incited by wrong and robbery on +the part of the whites, will increasingly be made the pretext of +indiscriminate massacres. The entire question will soon resolve itself +into the single alternative of education and civilization or +extermination. + +The school experiments at Hampton, Carlisle, and Forest Grove in Oregon +have proved, if such proof were ever needed, that the roving Indian can +be enlightened and civilized, taught to work and take interest and +delight in the product of his industry, and settle down on his farm or in +his workshop, as an American citizen, protected by and subject to the +laws of the republic. What is needed is that not only these schools +should be more liberally supported, but that new ones should be opened +without delay. The matter does not admit of procrastination. The work +of education and civilization must be done. The money needed must be +contributed with no sparing hand. The laudable example set by the +Friends and the American Missionary Association should be followed by +other sects and philanthropic societies. Christianity, patriotism, and +enlightened self interest have a common stake in the matter. Great and +difficult as the work may be the country is strong enough, rich enough, +wise enough, and, I believe, humane and Christian enough to do it. + + + + +THE REPUBLICAN PARTY. + +Read at a meeting of the Essex Club, in Boston, +November, 1885. + +AMESBURY, 11th Mo., 10, 1885. + +I AM sorry that I cannot accept thy invitation to attend the meeting of +the Essex Club on the 14th inst. I should be glad to meet my old +Republican friends and congratulate them on the results of the election +in Massachusetts, and especially in our good old county of Essex. + +Some of our friends and neighbors, who have been with us heretofore, last +year saw fit to vote with the opposite party. I would be the last to +deny their perfect right to do so, or to impeach their motives, but I +think they were mistaken in expecting that party to reform the abuses and +evils which they complained of. President Cleveland has proved himself +better than his party, and has done and said some good things which I +give him full credit for, but the instincts of his party are against him, +and must eventually prove too strong for him, and, instead of his +carrying the party, it will be likely to carry him. It has already +compelled him to put his hands in his pockets for electioneering +purposes, and travel all the way from Washington to Buffalo to give his +vote for a spoilsman and anti-civil service machine politician. I would +not like to call it a case of "offensive partisanship," but it looks a +good deal like it. + +As a Republican from the outset, I am proud of the noble record of the +party, but I should rejoice to see its beneficent work taken up by the +Democratic party and so faithfully carried on as to make our organization +no longer necessary. But, as far as we can see, the Republican party has +still its mission and its future. When labor shall everywhere have its +just reward, and the gains of it are made secure to the earners; when +education shall be universal, and, North and South, all men shall have +the free and full enjoyment of civil rights and privileges, irrespective +of color or former condition; when every vice which debases the community +shall be discouraged and prohibited, and every virtue which elevates it +fostered and strengthened; when merit and fitness shall be the conditions +of office; and when sectional distrust and prejudice shall give place to +well-merited confidence in the loyalty and patriotism of all, then will +the work of the Republican party, as a party, be ended, and all political +rivalries be merged in the one great party of the people, with no other +aim than the common welfare, and no other watchwords than peace, liberty, +and union. Then may the language which Milton addressed to his +countrymen two centuries ago be applied to the United States, "Go on, +hand in hand, O peoples, never to be disunited; be the praise and heroic +song of all posterity. Join your invincible might to do worthy and +godlike deeds; and then he who seeks to break your Union, a cleaving +curse be his inheritance." + + + + +OUR DUMB RELATIONS. (1886.) + +IT was said of St. Francis of Assisi, that he had attained, through the +fervor of his love, the secret of that deep amity with God and His +creation which, in the language of inspiration, makes man to be in league +with the stones of the field, and the beasts of the field to be at peace +with him. The world has never been without tender souls, with whom the +golden rule has a broader application than its letter might seem to +warrant. The ancient Eastern seers recognized the rights of the brute +creation, and regarded the unnecessary taking of the life of the humblest +and meanest as a sin; and in almost all the old religions of the world +there are legends of saints, in the depth of whose peace with God and +nature all life was sacredly regarded as the priceless gift of heaven, +and who were thus enabled to dwell safely amidst lions and serpents. + +It is creditable to human nature and its unperverted instincts that +stories and anecdotes of reciprocal kindness and affection between men +and animals are always listened to with interest and approval. How +pleasant to think of the Arab and his horse, whose friendship has been +celebrated in song and romance. Of Vogelwied, the Minnesinger, and his +bequest to the birds. Of the English Quaker, visited, wherever he went, +by flocks of birds, who with cries of joy alighted on his broad-brimmed +hat and his drab coat-sleeves. Of old Samuel Johnson, when half-blind +and infirm, groping abroad of an evening for oysters for his cat. Of +Walter Scott and John Brown, of Edinburgh, and their dogs. Of our own +Thoreau, instinctively recognized by bird and beast as a friend. Emerson +says of him: "His intimacy with animals suggested what Thomas Fuller +records of Butler, the apologist, that either he had told the bees +things, or the bees had told him. Snakes coiled round his legs; the +fishes swam into his hand; he pulled the woodchuck out of his hole by his +tail, and took foxes under his protection from the hunters." + +In the greatest of the ancient Hindu poems--the sacred book of the +Mahabharata--there is a passage of exceptional beauty and tenderness, +which records the reception of King Yudishthira at the gate of Paradise. +A pilgrim to the heavenly city, the king had travelled over vast spaces, +and, one by one, the loved ones, the companions of his journey, had all +fallen and left him alone, save his faithful dog, which still followed. +He was met by Indra, and invited to enter the holy city. But the king +thinks of his friends who have fallen on the way, and declines to go in +without them. The god tells him they are all within waiting for him. +Joyful, he is about to seek them, when he looks upon the poor dog, who, +weary and wasted, crouches at his feet, and asks that he, too, may enter +the gate. Indra refuses, and thereupon the king declares that to abandon +his faithful dumb friend would be as great a sin as to kill a Brahmin. + + "Away with that felicity whose price is to abandon the faithful! + Never, come weal or woe, will I leave my faithful dog. + The poor creature, in fear and distress, has trusted in my power to + save him; + Not, therefore, for life itself, will I break my plighted word." + +In full sight of heaven he chooses to go to hell with his dog, and +straightway descends, as he supposes, thither. But his virtue and +faithfulness change his destination to heaven, and he finds himself +surrounded by his old friends, and in the presence of the gods, who thus +honor and reward his humanity and unselfish love. + + + + +INTERNATIONAL ARBITRATION. + +Read at the reception in Boston of the English delegation representing +more than two hundred members of the British Parliament who favor +international arbitration. + +AMESBURY, 11th Mo., 9, 1887. + +IT is a very serious disappointment to me not to be able to be present at +the welcome of the American Peace Society to the delegation of more than +two hundred members of the British Parliament who favor international +arbitration. Few events have more profoundly impressed me than the +presentation of this peaceful overture to the President of the United +States. It seems to me that every true patriot who seeks the best +interests of his country and every believer in the gospel of Christ must +respond to the admirable address of Sir Lyon Playfair and that of his +colleagues who represented the workingmen of England. We do not need to +be told that war is always cruel, barbarous, and brutal; whether used by +professed Christians with ball and bayonet, or by heathen with club and +boomerang. We cannot be blind to its waste of life and treasure and the +demoralization which follows in its train; nor cease to wonder at the +spectacle of Christian nations exhausting all their resources in +preparing to slaughter each other, with only here and there a voice, like +Count Tolstoi's in the Russian wilderness, crying in heedless ears that +the gospel of Christ is peace, not war, and love, not hatred. + +The overture which comes to us from English advocates of arbitration is a +cheering assurance that the tide of sentiment is turning in favor of +peace among English speaking peoples. I cannot doubt that whatever stump +orators and newspapers may say for party purposes, the heart of America +will respond to the generous proposal of our kinsfolk across the water. +No two nations could be more favorably conditioned than England and the +United States for making the "holy experiment of arbitration." + +In our associations and kinship, our aims and interests, our common +claims in the great names and achievements of a common ancestry, we are +essentially one people. Whatever other nations may do, we at least +should be friends. God grant that the noble and generous attempt shall +not be in vain! May it hasten the time when the only rivalry between us +shall be the peaceful rivalry of progress and the gracious interchange of +good. + + "When closer strand shall lean to strand, + Till meet beneath saluting flags, + The eagle of our mountain crags, + The lion of our mother land!" + + + + +SUFFRAGE FOR WOMEN. + +Read at the Woman's Convention at Washington. + +OAK KNOLL, DANVERS, MASS., Third Mo., 8, 1888. + +I THANK thee for thy kind letter. It would be a great satisfaction to be +able to be present at the fortieth anniversary of the Woman's Suffrage +Association. But, as that is not possible, I can only reiterate my +hearty sympathy with the object of the association, and bid it take heart +and assurance in view of all that has been accomplished. There is no +easy royal road to a reform of this kind, but if the progress has been +slow there has been no step backward. The barriers which at first seemed +impregnable in the shape of custom and prejudice have been undermined and +their fall is certain. A prophecy of your triumph at no distant day is +in the air; your opponents feel it and believe it. They know that yours +is a gaining and theirs a losing cause. The work still before you +demands on your part great patience, steady perseverance, a firm, +dignified, and self-respecting protest against the injustice of which you +have so much reason to complain, and of serene confidence which is not +discouraged by temporary checks, nor embittered by hostile criticism, nor +provoked to use any weapons of retort, which, like the boomerang, fall +back on the heads of those who use them. You can afford +in your consciousness of right to be as calm and courteous as the +archangel Michael, who, we are told in Scripture in his controversy with +Satan himself, did not bring a railing accusation against him. A wise +adaptation of means to ends is no yielding of principle, but care should +be taken to avoid all such methods as have disgraced political and +religious parties of the masculine sex. Continue to make it manifest +that all which is pure and lovely and of good repute in womanhood is +entirely compatible with the exercise of the rights of citizenship, and +the performance of the duties which we all owe to our homes and our +country. Confident that you will do this, and with no doubt or misgiving +as to your success, I bid you Godspeed. I find I have written to the +association rather than to thyself, but as one of the principal +originators and most faithful supporters, it was very natural that I +should identify thee with it. + + + + +THE INNER LIFE + +THE AGENCY OF EVIL. + +From the Supernaturalism of New England, in the Democratic Review for +1843. + +IN this life of ours, so full of mystery, so hung about with wonders, so +written over with dark riddles, where even the lights held by prophets +and inspired ones only serve to disclose the solemn portals of a future +state of being, leaving all beyond in shadow, perhaps the darkest and +most difficult problem which presents itself is that of the origin of +evil,--the source whence flow the black and bitter waters of sin and +suffering and discord,--the wrong which all men see in others and feel +in themselves,--the unmistakable facts of human depravity and misery. A +superficial philosophy may attempt to refer all these dark phenomena of +man's existence to his own passions, circumstances, and will; but the +thoughtful observer cannot rest satisfied with secondary causes. The +grossest materialism, at times, reveals something of that latent dread +of an invisible and spiritual influence which is inseparable from our +nature. Like Eliphaz the Temanite, it is conscious of a spirit passing +before its face, the form whereof is not discerned. + +It is indeed true that our modern divines and theologians, as if to atone +for the too easy credulity of their order formerly, have unceremoniously +consigned the old beliefs of Satanic agency, demoniacal possession, and +witchcraft, to Milton's receptacle of exploded follies and detected +impostures, + + "Over the backside of the world far off, + Into a limbo broad and large, and called + The paradise of fools,"-- + +that indeed, out of their peculiar province, and apart from the routine +of their vocation, they have become the most thorough sceptics and +unbelievers among us. Yet it must be owned that, if they have not the +marvellous themselves, they are the cause of it in others. In certain +states of mind, the very sight of a clergyman in his sombre professional +garb is sufficient to awaken all the wonderful within us. Imagination +goes wandering back to the subtle priesthood of mysterious Egypt. We +think of Jannes and Jambres; of the Persian magi; dim oak groves, with +Druid altars, and priests, and victims, rise before us. For what is the +priest even of our New England but a living testimony to the truth of the +supernatural and the reality of the unseen,--a man of mystery, walking in +the shadow of the ideal world,--by profession an expounder of spiritual +wonders? Laugh he may at the old tales of astrology and witchcraft and +demoniacal possession; but does he not believe and bear testimony to his +faith in the reality of that dark essence which Scripture more than hints +at, which has modified more or less all the religious systems and +speculations of the heathen world,--the Ahriman of the Parsee, the Typhon +of the Egyptian, the Pluto of the Roman mythology, the Devil of Jew, +Christian, and Mussulman, the Machinito of the Indian,--evil in the +universe of goodness, darkness in the light of divine intelligence,--in +itself the great and crowning mystery from which by no unnatural process +of imagination may be deduced everything which our forefathers believed +of the spiritual world and supernatural agency? That fearful being with +his tributaries and agents,--"the Devil and his angels,"--how awfully he +rises before us in the brief outline limning of the sacred writers! How +he glooms, "in shape and gesture proudly eminent," on the immortal canvas +of Milton and Dante! What a note of horror does his name throw into the +sweet Sabbath psalmody of our churches. What strange, dark fancies are +connected with the very language of common-law indictments, when grand +juries find under oath that the offence complained of has been committed +"at the instigation of the Devil"! + +How hardly effaced are the impressions of childhood! Even at this day, +at the mention of the evil angel, an image rises before me like that with +which I used especially to horrify myself in an old copy of Pilgrim's +Progress. Horned, hoofed, scaly, and fire-breathing, his caudal +extremity twisted tight with rage, I remember him, illustrating the +tremendous encounter of Christian in the valley where "Apollyon straddled +over the whole breadth of the way." There was another print of the enemy +which made no slight impression upon me. It was the frontispiece of an +old, smoked, snuff-stained pamphlet, the property of an elderly lady, +(who had a fine collection of similar wonders, wherewith she was kind +enough to edify her young visitors,) containing a solemn account of the +fate of a wicked dancing-party in New Jersey, whose irreverent +declaration, that they would have a fiddler if they had to send to the +lower regions after him, called up the fiend himself, who forthwith +commenced playing, while the company danced to the music incessantly, +without the power to suspend their exercise, until their feet and legs +were worn off to the knees! The rude wood-cut represented the demon +fiddler and his agonized companions literally stumping it up and down in +"cotillons, jigs, strathspeys, and reels." He would have answered very +well to the description of the infernal piper in Tam O'Shanter. + +To this popular notion of the impersonation of the principle of evil we +are doubtless indebted for the whole dark legacy of witchcraft and +possession. Failing in our efforts to solve the problem of the origin of +evil, we fall back upon the idea of a malignant being,--the antagonism of +good. Of this mysterious and dreadful personification we find ourselves +constrained to speak with a degree of that awe and reverence which are +always associated with undefined power and the ability to harm. "The +Devil," says an old writer, "is a dignity, though his glory be somewhat +faded and wan, and is to be spoken of accordingly." + +The evil principle of Zoroaster was from eternity self-created and +existent, and some of the early Christian sects held the same opinion. +The gospel, however, affords no countenance to this notion of a divided +sovereignty of the universe. The Divine Teacher, it is true, in +discoursing of evil, made use of the language prevalent in His time, and +which was adapted to the gross conceptions of His Jewish bearers; but He +nowhere presents the embodiment of sin as an antagonism to the absolute +power and perfect goodness of God, of whom, and through whom, and to whom +are all things. Pure himself, He can create nothing impure. Evil, +therefore, has no eternity in the past. The fact of its present actual +existence is indeed strongly stated; and it is not given us to understand +the secret of that divine alchemy whereby pain, and sin, and discord +become the means to beneficent ends worthy of the revealed attributes of +the Infinite Parent. Unsolved by human reason or philosophy, the dark +mystery remains to baffle the generations of men; and only to the eye of +humble and childlike faith can it ever be reconciled to the purity, +justice, and mercy of Him who is "light, and in whom is no darkness at +all." + +"Do you not believe in the Devil?" some one once asked the Non-conformist +Robinson. "I believe in God," was the reply; "don't you?" + +Henry of Nettesheim says "that it is unanimously maintained that devils +do wander up and down in the earth; but what they are, or how they are, +ecclesiasticals have not clearly expounded." Origen, in his Platonic +speculations on this subject, supposed them to be spirits who, by +repentance, might be restored, that in the end all knees might be bowed +to the Father of spirits, and He become all in all. Justin Martyr was of +the opinion that many of them still hoped for their salvation; and the +Cabalists held that this hope of theirs was well founded. One is +irresistibly reminded here of the closing verse of the _Address to the +Deil_, by Burns:-- + + "But fare ye weel, Auld Nickie ben! + Gin ye wad take a thought and mend, + Ye aiblins might--I dinna ken-- + Still has a stake + I'm was to think upon yon den + Fen for your sake." + +The old schoolmen and fathers seem to agree that the Devil and his +ministers have bodies in some sort material, subject to passions and +liable to injury and pain. Origen has a curious notion that any evil +spirit who, in a contest with a human being, is defeated, loses from +thenceforth all his power of mischief, and may be compared to a wasp who +has lost his sting. + +"The Devil," said Samson Occum, the famous Indian preacher, in a +discourse on temperance, "is a gentleman, and never drinks." +Nevertheless it is a remarkable fact, and worthy of the serious +consideration of all who "tarry long at the wine," that, in that state of +the drunkard's malady known as delirium tremens, the adversary, in some +shape or other, is generally visible to the sufferers, or at least, as +Winslow says of the Powahs, "he appeareth more familiarly to them than to +others." I recollect a statement made to me by a gentleman who has had +bitter experience of the evils of intemperance, and who is at this time +devoting his fine talents to the cause of philanthropy and mercy, as the +editor of one of our best temperance journals, which left a most vivid +impression on my mind. He had just returned from a sea-voyage; and, for +the sake of enjoying a debauch, unmolested by his friends, took up his +abode in a rum-selling tavern in a somewhat lonely location on the +seaboard. Here he drank for many days without stint, keeping himself the +whole time in a state of semi-intoxication. One night he stood leaning +against a tree, looking listlessly and vacantly out upon the ocean; the +waves breaking on the beach, and the white sails of passing vessels +vaguely impressing him like the pictures of a dream. He was startled by +a voice whispering hoarsely in his ear, _"You have murdered a man; the +officers of justice are after you; you must fly for your life!"_ Every +syllable was pronounced slowly and separately; and there was something in +the hoarse, gasping sound of the whisper which was indescribably +dreadful. He looked around him, and seeing nothing but the clear +moonlight on the grass, became partially sensible that he was the victim +of illusion, and a sudden fear of insanity thrilled him with a momentary +horror. Rallying himself, he returned to the tavern, drank another glass +of brandy, and retired to his chamber. He had scarcely lain his head on +the pillow when he heard that hoarse, low, but terribly distinct whisper, +repeating the same words. He describes his sensations at this time as +inconceivably fearful. Reason was struggling with insanity; but amidst +the confusion and mad disorder one terrible thought evolved itself. Had +he not, in a moment of mad frenzy of which his memory made no record, +actually murdered some one? And was not this a warning from Heaven? +Leaving his bed and opening his door, he heard the words again repeated, +with the addition, in a tone of intense earnestness, "Follow me!" He +walked forward in the direction of the sound, through a long entry, to +the head of the staircase, where he paused for a moment, when again he +heard the whisper, half-way down the stairs, "Follow me!" + +Trembling with terror, he passed down two flights of stairs, and found +himself treading on the cold brick floor of a large room in the basement, +or cellar, where he had never been before. The voice still beckoned him +onward; and, groping after it, his hand touched an upright post, against +which he leaned for a moment. He heard it again, apparently only two or +three yards in front of him "You have murdered a man; the officers are +close behind you; follow me!" Putting one foot forward while his hand +still grasped the post, it fell upon empty air, and he with difficulty +recovered himself. Stooping down and feeling with his hands, he found +himself on the very edge of a large uncovered cistern, or tank, filled +nearly to the top with water. The sudden shock of this discovery broke +the horrible enchantment. The whisperer was silent. He believed, at the +time, that he had been the subject, and well-nigh the victim, of a +diabolical delusion; and he states that, even now, with the recollection +of that strange whisper is always associated a thought of the universal +tempter. + +Our worthy ancestors were, in their own view of the matter, the advance +guard and forlorn hope of Christendom in its contest with the bad angel. +The New World, into which they had so valiantly pushed the outposts of +the Church militant, was to them, not God's world, but the Devil's. They +stood there on their little patch of sanctified territory like the +gamekeeper of Der Freischutz in the charmed circle; within were prayer +and fasting, unmelodious psalmody and solemn hewing of heretics, "before +the Lord in Gilgal;" without were "dogs and sorcerers, red children of +perdition, Powah wizards," and "the foul fiend." In their grand old +wilderness, broken by fair, broad rivers and dotted with loveliest lakes, +hanging with festoons of leaf, and vine, and flower, the steep sides of +mountains whose naked tops rose over the surrounding verdure like altars +of a giant world,--with its early summer greenness and the many-colored +wonder of its autumn, all glowing as if the rainbows of a summer shower +had fallen upon it, under the clear, rich light of a sun to which the +misty day of their cold island was as moonlight,--they saw no beauty, +they recognized no holy revelation. It was to them terrible as the +forest which Dante traversed on his way to the world of pain. Every +advance step they made was upon the enemy's territory. And one has only +to read the writings of the two Mathers to perceive that that enemy was +to them no metaphysical abstraction, no scholastic definition, no figment +of a poetical fancy, but a living, active reality, alternating between +the sublimest possibilities of evil and the lowest details of mean +mischief; now a "tricksy spirit," disturbing the good-wife's platters or +soiling her newwashed linen, and anon riding the storm-cloud and pointing +its thunder-bolts; for, as the elder Mather pertinently inquires, "how +else is it that our meeting-houses are burned by the lightning?" What +was it, for instance, but his subtlety which, speaking through the lips +of Madame Hutchinson, confuted the "judges of Israel" and put to their +wits' end the godly ministers of the Puritan Zion? Was not his evil +finger manifested in the contumacious heresy of Roger Williams? Who else +gave the Jesuit missionaries--locusts from the pit as they were--such a +hold on the affections of those very savages who would not have scrupled +to hang the scalp of pious Father Wilson himself from their girdles? To +the vigilant eye of Puritanism was he not alike discernible in the light +wantonness of the May-pole revellers, beating time with the cloven foot +to the vain music of obscene dances, and in the silent, hat-canopied +gatherings of the Quakers, "the most melancholy of the sects," as Dr. +Moore calls them? Perilous and glorious was it, under these +circumstances, for such men as Mather and Stoughton to gird up their +stout loins and do battle with the unmeasured, all-surrounding terror. +Let no man lightly estimate their spiritual knight-errantry. The heroes +of old romance, who went about smiting dragons, lopping giants' heads, +and otherwise pleasantly diverting themselves, scarcely deserve mention +in comparison with our New England champions, who, trusting not to carnal +sword and lance, in a contest with principalities and powers, "spirits +that live throughout, Vital in every part, not as frail man,"-- +encountered their enemies with weapons forged by the stern spiritual +armorer of Geneva. The life of Cotton Mather is as full of romance as +the legends of Ariosto or the tales of Beltenebros and Florisando in +Amadis de Gaul. All about him was enchanted ground; devils glared on him +in his "closet wrestlings;" portents blazed in the heavens above him; +while he, commissioned and set apart as the watcher, and warder, and +spiritual champion of "the chosen people," stood ever ready for battle, +with open eye and quick ear for the detection of the subtle approaches of +the enemy. No wonder is it that the spirits of evil combined against +him; that they beset him as they did of old St. Anthony; that they shut +up the bowels of the General Court against his long-cherished hope of the +presidency of Old Harvard; that they even had the audacity to lay hands +on his anti-diabolical manuscripts, or that "ye divil that was in ye girl +flewe at and tore" his grand sermon against witches. How edifying is his +account of the young bewitched maiden whom he kept in his house for the +purpose of making experiments which should satisfy all "obstinate +Sadducees"! How satisfactory to orthodoxy and confounding to heresy is +the nice discrimination of "ye divil in ye girl," who was choked in +attempting to read the Catechism, yet found no trouble with a pestilent +Quaker pamphlet; who was quiet and good-humored when the worthy Doctor +was idle, but went into paroxysms of rage when he sat down to indite his +diatribes against witches and familiar spirits! + + (The Quakers appear to have, at a comparatively early period, + emancipated themselves in a great degree from the grosser + superstitions of their times. William Penn, indeed, had a law in + his colony against witchcraft; but the first trial of a person + suspected of this offence seems to have opened his eyes to its + absurdity. George Fox, judging from one or two passages in his + journal, appears to have held the common opinions of the day on the + subject; yet when confined in Doomsdale dungeon, on being told that + the place was haunted and that the spirits of those who had died + there still walked at night in his room, he replied, "that if all + the spirits and devils in hell were there, he was over them in the + power of God, and feared no such thing." + + The enemies of the Quakers, in order to account for the power and + influence of their first preachers, accused them of magic and + sorcery. "The Priest of Wakefield," says George Fox (one trusts he + does not allude to our old friend the Vicar), "raised many wicked + slanders upon me, as that I carried bottles with me and made people + drink, and that made them follow me; that I rode upon a great black + horse, and was seen in one county upon my black horse in one hour, + and in the same hour in another county fourscore miles off." In his + account of the mob which beset him at Walney Island, he says: "When + I came to myself I saw James Lancaster's wife throwing stones at my + face, and her husband lying over me to keep off the blows and + stones; for the people had persuaded her that I had bewitched her + husband." + + Cotton Mather attributes the plague of witchcraft in New England in + about an equal degree to the Quakers and Indians. The first of the + sect who visited Boston, Ann Austin and Mary Fisher,--the latter a + young girl,--were seized upon by Deputy-Governor Bellingham, in the + absence of Governor Endicott, and shamefully stripped naked for the + purpose of ascertaining whether they were witches with the Devil's + mark on them. In 1662 Elizabeth Horton and Joan Broksop, two + venerable preachers of the sect, were arrested in Boston, charged by + Governor Endicott with being witches, and carried two days' journey + into the woods, and left to the tender mercies of Indians and + wolves.) + +All this is pleasant enough now; we can laugh at the Doctor and his +demons; but little matter of laughter was it to the victims on Salem +Hill; to the prisoners in the jails; to poor Giles Corey, tortured with +planks upon his breast, which forced the tongue from his mouth and his +life from his old, palsied body; to bereaved and quaking families; to a +whole community, priest-ridden and spectresmitten, gasping in the sick +dream of a spiritual nightmare and given over to believe a lie. We may +laugh, for the grotesque is blended with the horrible; but we must also +pity and shudder. The clear-sighted men who confronted that delusion in +its own age, disenchanting, with strong good sense and sharp ridicule, +their spell-bound generation,--the German Wierus, the Italian D'Apone, +the English Scot, and the New England Calef,--deserve high honors as the +benefactors of their race. It is true they were branded through life as +infidels and "damnable Sadducees;" but the truth which they uttered +lived after them, and wrought out its appointed work, for it had a Divine +commission and Godspeed. + + "The oracles are dumb; + No voice nor hideous hum + +Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving; + + Apollo from his shrine + Can now no more divine, + +With hollow shriek the steep of Delphus leaving." + +Dimmer and dimmer, as the generations pass away, this tremendous terror, +this all-pervading espionage of evil, this active incarnation of +motiveless malignity, presents itself to the imagination. The once +imposing and solemn rite of exorcism has become obsolete in the Church. +Men are no longer, in any quarter of the world, racked or pressed under +planks to extort a confession of diabolical alliance. The heretic now +laughs to scorn the solemn farce of the Church which, in the name of the +All-Merciful, formally delivers him over to Satan. And for the sake of +abused and long-cheated humanity let us rejoice that it is so, when we +consider how for long, weary centuries the millions of professed +Christendom stooped, awestricken, under the yoke of spiritual and +temporal despotism, grinding on from generation to generation in a +despair which had passed complaining, because superstition, in alliance +with tyranny, had filled their upward pathway to freedom with shapes of +terror,--the spectres of God's wrath to the uttermost, the fiend, and +that torment the smoke of which rises forever. Through fear of a Satan +of the future,--a sort of ban-dog of priestcraft, held in its leash and +ready to be let loose upon the disputers of its authority,--our toiling +brothers of past ages have permitted their human taskmasters to convert +God's beautiful world, so adorned and fitted for the peace and happiness +of all, into a great prison-house of suffering, filled with the actual +terrors which the imagination of the old poets gave to the realm of +Rhadamanthus. And hence, while I would not weaken in the slightest +degree the influence of that doctrine of future retribution,--the +accountability of the spirit for the deeds done in the body,--the truth +of which reason, revelation, and conscience unite in attesting as the +necessary result of the preservation in another state of existence of the +soul's individuality and identity, I must, nevertheless, rejoice that the +many are no longer willing to permit the few, for their especial benefit, +to convert our common Father's heritage into a present hell, where, in +return for undeserved suffering and toil uncompensated, they can have +gracious and comfortable assurance of release from a future one. Better +is the fear of the Lord than the fear of the Devil; holier and more +acceptable the obedience of love and reverence than the submission of +slavish terror. The heart which has felt the "beauty of holiness," which +has been in some measure attuned to the divine harmony which now, as of +old in the angel-hymn of the Advent, breathes of "glory to God, peace on +earth, and good-will to men," in the serene atmosphere of that "perfect +love which casteth out fear," smiles at the terrors which throng the sick +dreams of the sensual, which draw aside the nightcurtains of guilt, and +startle with whispers of revenge the oppressor of the poor. + +There is a beautiful moral in one of Fouque's miniature romances,--_Die +Kohlerfamilie_. The fierce spectre, which rose giant-like, in its +bloodred mantle, before the selfish and mercenary merchant, ever +increasing in size and, terror with the growth of evil and impure thought +in the mind of the latter, subdued by prayer, and penitence, and patient +watchfulness over the heart's purity, became a loving and gentle +visitation of soft light and meekest melody; "a beautiful radiance, at +times hovering and flowing on before the traveller, illuminating the +bushes and foliage of the mountain-forest; a lustre strange and lovely, +such as the soul may conceive, but no words express. He felt its power +in the depths of his being,--felt it like the mystic breathing of the +Spirit of God." + +The excellent Baxter and other pious men of his day deprecated in all +sincerity and earnestness the growing disbelief in witchcraft and +diabolical agency, fearing that mankind, losing faith in a visible Satan +and in the supernatural powers of certain paralytic old women, would +diverge into universal skepticism. It is one of the saddest of sights to +see these good men standing sentry at the horn gate of dreams; attempting +against the most discouraging odds to defend their poor fallacies from +profane and irreverent investigation; painfully pleading doubtful +Scripture and still more doubtful tradition in behalf of detected and +convicted superstitions tossed on the sharp horns of ridicule, stretched +on the rack of philosophy, or perishing under the exhausted receiver of +science. A clearer knowledge of the aspirations, capacities, and +necessities of the human soul, and of the revelations which the infinite +Spirit makes to it, not only through the senses by the phenomena of +outward nature, but by that inward and direct communion which, under +different names, has been recognized by the devout and thoughtful of +every religious sect and school of philosophy, would have saved them much +anxious labor and a good deal of reproach withal in their hopeless +championship of error. The witches of Baxter and "the black man" of +Mather have vanished; belief in them is no longer possible on the part of +sane men. But this mysterious universe, through which, half veiled in +its own shadow, our dim little planet is wheeling, with its star worlds +and thought-wearying spaces, remains. Nature's mighty miracle is still +over and around us; and hence awe, wonder, and reverence remain to be the +inheritance of humanity; still are there beautiful repentances and holy +deathbeds; and still over the soul's darkness and confusion rises, +starlike, the great idea of duty. By higher and better influences than +the poor spectres of superstition, man must henceforth be taught to +reverence the Invisible, and, in the consciousness of his own weakness, +and sin, and sorrow, to lean with childlike trust on the wisdom and mercy +of an overruling Providence,--walking by faith through the shadow and +mystery, and cheered by the remembrance that, whatever may be his +apparent allotment,-- + + "God's greatness flows around our incompleteness; + Round our restlessness His rest." + +It is a sad spectacle to find the glad tidings of the Christian faith and +its "reasonable service" of devotion transformed by fanaticism and +credulity into superstitious terror and wild extravagance; but, if +possible, there is one still sadder. It is that of men in our own time +regarding with satisfaction such evidences of human weakness, and +professing to find in them new proofs of their miserable theory of a +godless universe, and new occasion for sneering at sincere devotion as +cant, and humble reverence as fanaticism. Alas! in comparison with +such, the religious enthusiast, who in the midst of his delusion still +feels that he is indeed a living soul and an heir of immortality, to whom +God speaks from the immensities of His universe, is a sane man. Better +is it, in a life like ours, to be even a howling dervis or a dancing +Shaker, confronting imaginary demons with Thalaba's talisman of faith, +than to lose the consciousness of our own spiritual nature, and look upon +ourselves as mere brute masses of animal organization,--barnacles on a +dead universe; looking into the dull grave with no hope beyond it; earth +gazing into earth, and saying to corruption, "Thou art my father," and to +the worm, "Thou art my sister." + + + + +HAMLET AMONG THE GRAVES. (1844.) + +AN amiable enthusiast, immortal in his beautiful little romance of Paul +and Virginia, has given us in his Miscellanies a chapter on the Pleasures +of Tombs,--a title singular enough, yet not inappropriate; for the meek- +spirited and sentimental author has given, in his own flowing and +eloquent language, its vindication. "There is," says he, "a voluptuous +melancholy arising from the contemplation of tombs; the result, like +every other attractive sensation, of the harmony of two opposite +principles,--from the sentiment of our fleeting life and that of our +immortality, which unite in view of the last habitation of mankind. A +tomb is a monument erected on the confines of two worlds. It first +presents to us the end of the vain disquietudes of life and the image of +everlasting repose; it afterwards awakens in us the confused sentiment of +a blessed immortality, the probabilities of which grow stronger and +stronger in proportion as the person whose memory is recalled was a +virtuous character. + +"It is from this intellectual instinct, therefore, in favor of virtue, +that the tombs of great men inspire us with a veneration so affecting. +From the same sentiment, too, it is that those which contain objects that +have been lovely excite so much pleasing regret; for the attractions of +love arise entirely out of the appearances of virtue. Hence it is that +we are moved at the sight of the small hillock which covers the ashes of +an infant, from the recollection of its innocence; hence it is that we +are melted into tenderness on contemplating the tomb in which is laid to +repose a young female, the delight and the hope of her family by reason +of her virtues. In order to give interest to such monuments, there is no +need of bronzes, marbles, and gildings. The more simple they are, the +more energy they communicate to the sentiment of melancholy. They +produce a more powerful effect when poor rather than rich, antique rather +than modern, with details of misfortune rather than titles of honor, with +the attributes of virtue rather than with those of power. It is in the +country principally that their impression makes itself felt in a very +lively manner. A simple, unornamented grave there causes more tears to +flow than the gaudy splendor of a cathedral interment. There it is that +grief assumes sublimity; it ascends with the aged yews in the churchyard; +it extends with the surrounding hills and plains; it allies itself with +all the effects of Nature,--with the dawning of the morning, with the +murmuring of wind, with the setting of the sun, and with the darkness of +the night." + +Not long since I took occasion to visit the cemetery near this city. It +is a beautiful location for a "city of the dead,"--a tract of some forty +or fifty acres on the eastern bank of the Concord, gently undulating, and +covered with a heavy growth of forest-trees, among which the white oak is +conspicuous. The ground beneath has been cleared of undergrowth, and is +marked here and there with monuments and railings enclosing "family +lots." It is a quiet, peaceful spot; the city, with its crowded mills, +its busy streets and teeming life, is hidden from view; not even a +solitary farm-house attracts the eye. All is still and solemn, as befits +the place where man and nature lie down together; where leaves of the +great lifetree, shaken down by death, mingle and moulder with the frosted +foliage of the autumnal forest. + +Yet the contrast of busy life is not wanting. The Lowell and Boston +Railroad crosses the river within view of the cemetery; and, standing +there in the silence and shadow, one can see the long trains rushing +along their iron pathway, thronged with living, breathing humanity,--the +young, the beautiful, the gay,--busy, wealth-seeking manhood of middle +years, the child at its mother's knee, the old man with whitened hairs, +hurrying on, on,--car after car,--like the generations of man sweeping +over the track of time to their last 'still resting-place. + +It is not the aged and the sad of heart who make this a place of favorite +resort. The young, the buoyant, the light-hearted, come and linger among +these flower-sown graves, watching the sunshine falling in broken light +upon these cold, white marbles, and listening to the song of birds in +these leafy recesses. Beautiful and sweet to the young heart is the +gentle shadow of melancholy which here falls upon it, soothing, yet sad, +--a sentiment midway between joy and sorrow. How true is it, that, in the +language of Wordsworth,-- + + "In youth we love the darkling lawn, + Brushed by the owlet's wing; + Then evening is preferred to dawn, + And autumn to the spring. + Sad fancies do we then affect, + In luxury of disrespect + To our own prodigal excess + Of too familiar happiness." + +The Chinese, from the remotest antiquity, have adorned and decorated +their grave-grounds with shrubs and sweet flowers, as places of popular +resort. The Turks have their graveyards planted with trees, through +which the sun looks in upon the turban stones of the faithful, and +beneath which the relatives of the dead sit in cheerful converse through +the long days of summer, in all the luxurious quiet and happy +indifference of the indolent East. Most of the visitors whom I met at +the Lowell cemetery wore cheerful faces; some sauntered laughingly along, +apparently unaffected by the associations of the place; too full, +perhaps, of life, and energy, and high hope to apply to themselves the +stern and solemn lesson which is taught even by these flower-garlanded +mounds. But, for myself, I confess that I am always awed by the presence +of the dead. I cannot jest above the gravestone. My spirit is silenced +and rebuked before the tremendous mystery of which the grave reminds me, +and involuntarily pays: + + "The deep reverence taught of old, + The homage of man's heart to death." + +Even Nature's cheerful air, and sun, and birdvoices only serve to remind +me that there are those beneath who have looked on the same green leaves +and sunshine, felt the same soft breeze upon their cheeks, and listened +to the same wild music of the woods for the last time. Then, too, comes +the saddening reflection, to which so many have given expression, that +these trees will put forth their leaves, the slant sunshine still fall +upon green meadows and banks of flowers, and the song of the birds and +the ripple of waters still be heard after our eyes and ears have closed +forever. It is hard for us to realize this. We are so accustomed to +look upon these things as a part of our life environment that it seems +strange that they should survive us. Tennyson, in his exquisite +metaphysical poem of the Two Voices, has given utterance to this +sentiment:-- + + "Alas! though I should die, I know + That all about the thorn will blow + In tufts of rosy-tinted snow. + + "Not less the bee will range her cells, + The furzy prickle fire the dells, + The foxglove cluster dappled bells." + +"The pleasures of the tombs!" Undoubtedly, in the language of the +Idumean, seer, there are many who "rejoice exceedingly and are glad when +they can find the grave;" who long for it "as the servant earnestly +desireth the shadow." Rest, rest to the sick heart and the weary brain, +to the long afflicted and the hopeless,--rest on the calm bosom of our +common mother. Welcome to the tired ear, stunned and confused with +life's jarring discords, the everlasting silence; grateful to the weary +eyes which "have seen evil, and not good," the everlasting shadow. + +Yet over all hangs the curtain of a deep mystery,--a curtain lifted only +on one side by the hands of those who are passing under its solemn +shadow. No voice speaks to us from beyond it, telling of the unknown +state; no hand from within puts aside the dark drapery to reveal the +mysteries towards which we are all moving. "Man giveth up the ghost; and +where is he?" + +Thanks to our Heavenly Father, He has not left us altogether without an +answer to this momentous question. Over the blackness of darkness a +light is shining. The valley of the shadow of death is no longer "a land +of darkness and where the light is as darkness." The presence of a +serene and holy life pervades it. Above its pale tombs and crowded +burial-places, above the wail of despairing humanity, the voice of Him +who awakened life and beauty beneath the grave-clothes of the tomb at +Bethany is heard proclaiming, "I am the Resurrection and the Life." We +know not, it is true, the conditions of our future life; we know not what +it is to pass fromm this state of being to another; but before us in that +dark passage has gone the Man of Nazareth, and the light of His footsteps +lingers in the path. Where He, our Brother in His humanity, our Redeemer +in His divine nature, has gone, let us not fear to follow. He who +ordereth all aright will uphold with His own great arm the frail spirit +when its incarnation is ended; and it may be, that, in language which I +have elsewhere used, + + --when Time's veil shall fall asunder, + The soul may know + No fearful change nor sudden wonder, + Nor sink the weight of mystery under, + But with the upward rise and with the vastness grow. + + And all we shrink from now may seem + No new revealing; + Familiar as our childhood's stream, + Or pleasant memory of a dream, + The loved and cherished past upon the new life stealing. + + Serene and mild the untried light + May have its dawning; + As meet in summer's northern night + The evening gray and dawning white, + The sunset hues of Time blend with the soul's new morning. + + + + +SWEDENBORG (1844.) + +THERE are times when, looking only on the surface of things, one is +almost ready to regard Lowell as a sort of sacred city of Mammon,--the +Benares of gain: its huge mills, temples; its crowded dwellings, lodging- +places of disciples and "proselytes within the gate;" its warehouses, +stalls for the sale of relics. A very mean idol-worship, too, unrelieved +by awe and reverence,--a selfish, earthward-looking devotion to the +"least-erected spirit that fell from paradise." I grow weary of seeing +man and mechanism reduced to a common level, moved by the same impulse, +answering to the same bell-call. A nightmare of materialism broods over +all. I long at times to hear a voice crying through the streets like +that of one of the old prophets proclaiming the great first truth,--that +the Lord alone is God. + +Yet is there not another side to the picture? High over sounding +workshops spires glisten in the sun,--silent fingers pointing heavenward. +The workshops themselves are instinct with other and subtler processes +than cotton-spinning or carpet-weaving. Each human being who watches +beside jack or power loom feels more or less intensely that it is a +solemn thing to live. Here are sin and sorrow, yearnings for lost peace, +outgushing gratitude of forgiven spirits, hopes and fears, which stretch +beyond the horizon of time into eternity. Death is here. The graveyard +utters its warning. Over all bends the eternal heaven in its silence and +mystery. Nature, even here, is mightier than Art, and God is above all. +Underneath the din of labor and the sounds of traffic, a voice, felt +rather than beard, reaches the heart, prompting the same fearful +questions which stirred the soul of the world's oldest poet,--"If a man +die, shall he live again?" "Man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?" +Out of the depths of burdened and weary hearts comes up the agonizing +inquiry, "What shall I do to be saved?" "Who shall deliver me from the +body of this death?" + +As a matter of course, in a city like this, composed of all classes of +our many-sided population, a great variety of religious sects have their +representatives in Lowell. The young city is dotted over with "steeple +houses," most of them of the Yankee order of architecture. The +Episcopalians have a house of worship on Merrimac Street,--a pile of dark +stone, with low Gothic doors and arched windows. A plat of grass lies +between it and the dusty street; and near it stands the dwelling-house +intended for the minister, built of the same material as the church and +surrounded by trees and shrubbery. The attention of the stranger is also +attracted by another consecrated building on the hill slope of +Belvidere,--one of Irving's a "shingle palaces," painted in imitation of +stone,--a great wooden sham, "whelked and horned" with pine spires and +turrets, a sort of whittled representation of the many-beaded beast of +the Apocalypse. + +In addition to the established sects which have reared their visible +altars in the City of Spindles, there are many who have not yet marked +the boundaries or set up the pillars and stretched out the curtains of +their sectarian tabernacles; who, in halls and "upper chambers" and in +the solitude of their own homes, keep alive the spirit of devotion, and, +wrapping closely around them the mantles of their order, maintain the +integrity of its peculiarities in the midst of an unbelieving generation. + +Not long since, in company with a friend who is a regular attendant, I +visited the little meeting of the disciples of Emanuel Swedenborg. +Passing over Chapel Hill and leaving the city behind us, we reached the +stream which winds through the beautiful woodlands at the Powder Mills +and mingles its waters with the Concord. The hall in which the followers +of the Gothland seer meet is small and plain, with unpainted seats, like +those of "the people called Quakers," and looks out upon the still woods +and that "willowy stream which turns a mill." An organ of small size, +yet, as it seemed to me, vastly out of proportion with the room, filled +the place usually occupied by the pulpit, which was here only a plain +desk, placed modestly by the side of it. The congregation have no +regular preacher, but the exercises of reading the Scriptures, prayers, +and selections from the Book of Worship were conducted by one of the lay +members. A manuscript sermon, by a clergyman of the order in Boston, was +read, and apparently listened to with much interest. It was well written +and deeply imbued with the doctrines of the church. I was impressed by +the gravity and serious earnestness of the little audience. There were +here no circumstances calculated to excite enthusiasm, nothing of the +pomp of religious rites and ceremonies; only a settled conviction of the +truth of the doctrines of their faith could have thus brought them +together. I could scarcely make the fact a reality, as I sat among them, +that here, in the midst of our bare and hard utilities, in the very +centre and heart of our mechanical civilization, were devoted and +undoubting believers in the mysterious and wonderful revelations of the +Swedish prophet,--revelations which look through all external and outward +manifestations to inward realities; which regard all objects in the world +of sense only as the types and symbols of the world of spirit; literally +unmasking the universe and laying bare the profoundest mysteries of life. + +The character and writings of Emanuel Swedenborg constitute one of the +puzzles and marvels of metaphysics and psychology. A man remarkable for +his practical activities, an ardent scholar of the exact sciences, versed +in all the arcana of physics, a skilful and inventive mechanician, he has +evolved from the hard and gross materialism of his studies a system of +transcendent spiritualism. From his aggregation of cold and apparently +lifeless practical facts beautiful and wonderful abstractions start forth +like blossoms on the rod of the Levite. A politician and a courtier, a +man of the world, a mathematician engaged in the soberest details of the +science, he has given to the world, in the simplest and most natural +language, a series of speculations upon the great mystery of being: +detailed, matter-of-fact narratives of revelations from the spiritual +world, which at once appall us by their boldness, and excite our wonder +at their extraordinary method, logical accuracy, and perfect consistency. +These remarkable speculations--the workings of a mind in which a powerful +imagination allied itself with superior reasoning faculties, the +marvellous current of whose thought ran only in the diked and guarded +channels of mathematical demonstration--he uniformly speaks of as +"facts." His perceptions of abstractions were so intense that they seem +to have reached that point where thought became sensible to sight as well +as feeling. What he thought, that he saw. + +He relates his visions of the spiritual world as he would the incidents +of a walk round his own city of Stockholm. One can almost see him in his +"brown coat and velvet breeches," lifting his "cocked hat" to an angel, +or keeping an unsavory spirit at arm's length with that "gold-headed +cane" which his London host describes as his inseparable companion in +walking. His graphic descriptions have always an air of naturalness and +probability; yet there is a minuteness of detail at times almost +bordering on the ludicrous. In his Memorable Relations he manifests +nothing of the imagination of Milton, overlooking the closed gates of +paradise, or following the "pained fiend" in his flight through chaos; +nothing of Dante's terrible imagery appalls us; we are led on from heaven +to heaven very much as Defoe leads us after his shipwrecked Crusoe. We +can scarcely credit the fact that we are not traversing our lower planet; +and the angels seem vastly like our common acquaintances. We seem to +recognize the "John Smiths," and "Mr. Browns," and "the old familiar +faces" of our mundane habitation. The evil principle in Swedenborg's +picture is, not the colossal and massive horror of the Inferno, nor that +stern wrestler with fate who darkens the canvas of Paradise Lost, but an +aggregation of poor, confused spirits, seeking rest and finding none save +in the unsavory atmosphere of the "falses." These small fry of devils +remind us only of certain unfortunate fellows whom we have known, who +seem incapable of living in good and wholesome society, and who are +manifestly given over to believe a lie. Thus it is that the very +"heavens" and "hells" of the Swedish mystic seem to be "of the earth, +earthy." He brings the spiritual world into close analogy with the +material one. + +In this hurried paper I have neither space nor leisure to attempt an +analysis of the great doctrines which underlie the "revelations" of +Swedenborg. His remarkably suggestive books are becoming familiar to the +reading and reflecting portion of the community. They are not unworthy +of study; but, in the language of another, I would say, "Emulate +Swedenborg in his exemplary life, his learning, his virtues, his +independent thought, his desire for wisdom, his love of the good and +true; aim to be his equal, his superior, in these things; but call no man +your master." + + + + +THE BETTER LAND. (1844.) + +"THE shapings of our heavens are the modifications of our constitution," +said Charles Lamb, in his reply to Southey's attack upon him in the +Quarterly Review. + +He who is infinite in love as well as wisdom has revealed to us the fact +of a future life, and the fearfully important relation in which the +present stands to it. The actual nature and conditions of that life He +has hidden from us,--no chart of the ocean of eternity is given us,--no +celestial guidebook or geography defines, localizes, and prepares us for +the wonders of the spiritual world. Hence imagination has a wide field +for its speculations, which, so long as they do not positively contradict +the revelation of the Scriptures, cannot be disproved. + +We naturally enough transfer to our idea of heaven whatever we love and +reverence on earth. Thither the Catholic carries in his fancy the +imposing rites and time-honored solemnities of his worship. There the +Methodist sees his love-feasts and camp-meetings in the groves and by the +still waters and green pastures of the blessed abodes. The Quaker, in +the stillness of his self-communing, remembers that there was "silence in +heaven." + +The Churchman, listening to the solemn chant of weal music or the deep +tones of the organ, thinks of the song of the elders and the golden harps +of the New Jerusalem. + +The heaven of the northern nations of Europe was a gross and sensual +reflection of the earthly life of a barbarous and brutal people. + +The Indians of North America had a vague notion of a sunset land, a +beautiful paradise far in the west, mountains and forests filled with +deer and buffalo, lakes and streams swarming with fishes,--the happy +hunting-ground of souls. In a late letter from a devoted missionary +among the Western Indians (Paul Blohm, a converted Jew) we have noticed a +beautiful illustration of this belief. Near the Omaha mission-house, on +a high luff, was a solitary Indian grave. "One evening," +says the missionary, "having come home with some cattle which I had been +seeking, I heard some one wailing; and, looking in the direction from +whence I proceeded, I found it to be from the grave near our house. In a +moment after a mourner rose up from a kneeling or lying posture, and, +turning to the setting sun, stretched forth his arms in prayer and +supplication with an intensity and earnestness as though he would detain +the splendid luminary from running his course. With his body leaning +forward and his arms stretched towards the sun, he presented a most +striking figure of sorrow and petition. It was solemnly awful. He +seemed to me to be one of the ancients come forth to teach me how to +pray." + +A venerable and worthy New England clergyman, on his death-bed, just +before the close of his life, declared that he was only conscious of an +awfully solemn and intense curiosity to know the great secret of death +and eternity. + +The excellent Dr. Nelson, of Missouri, was one who, while on earth, +seemed to live another and higher life in the contemplation of infinite +purity and happiness. A friend once related an incident concerning him +which made a deep impression upon my mind. They had been travelling +through a summer's forenoon in the prairie, and had lain down to rest +beneath a solitary tree. The Doctor lay for a long time, silently +looking upwards through the openings of the boughs into the still +heavens, when he repeated the following lines, in a low tone, as if +communing with himself in view of the wonders he described:-- + + "O the joys that are there mortal eye bath not seen! + O the songs they sing there, with hosannas between! + O the thrice-blessed song of the Lamb and of Moses! + O brightness on brightness! the pearl gate uncloses! + O white wings of angels! O fields white with roses! + O white tents of peace, where the rapt soul reposes + O the waters so still, and the pastures so green!" + +The brief hints afforded us by the sacred writings concerning the better +land are inspiring and beautiful. Eye hath not seen, nor the ear heard, +neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive of the good in +store for the righteous. Heaven is described as a quiet habitation,--a +rest remaining for the people of God. Tears shall be wiped away from all +eyes; there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither +shall there be any more pain. To how many death-beds have these words +spoken peace! How many failing hearts have gathered strength from them +to pass through the dark valley of shadows! + +Yet we should not forget that "the kingdom of heaven is within;" that it +is the state and affections of the soul, the answer of a good conscience, +the sense of harmony with God, a condition of time as well as of +eternity. What is really momentous and all-important with us is the +present, by which the future is shaped and colored. A mere change of +locality cannot alter the actual and intrinsic qualities of the soul. +Guilt and remorse would make the golden streets of Paradise intolerable +as the burning marl of the infernal abodes; while purity and innocence +would transform hell itself into heaven. + + + + +DORA GREEN WELL. + +First published as an introduction to an American edition of that +author's _The Patience of Hope_. + +THERE are men who, irrespective of the names by which they are called in +the Babel confusion of sects, are endeared to the common heart of +Christendom. Our doors open of their own accord to receive them. For in +them we feel that in some faint degree, and with many limitations, the +Divine is again manifested: something of the Infinite Love shines out of +them; their very garments have healing and fragrance borrowed from the +bloom of Paradise. So of books. There are volumes which perhaps contain +many things, in the matter of doctrine and illustration, to which our +reason does not assent, but which nevertheless seem permeated with a +certain sweetness and savor of life. They have the Divine seal and +imprimatur; they are fragrant with heart's-ease and asphodel; tonic with +the leaves which are for the healing of the nations. The meditations of +the devout monk of Kempen are the common heritage of Catholic and +Protestant; our hearts burn within us as we walk with Augustine under +Numidian fig-trees in the gardens of Verecundus; Feuelon from his +bishop's palace and John Woolman from his tailor's shop speak to us in +the same language. The unknown author of that book which Luther loved +next to his Bible, the Theologia Germanica, is just as truly at home in +this present age, and in the ultra Protestantism of New England, as in +the heart of Catholic Europe, and in the fourteenth century. For such +books know no limitations of time or place; they have the perpetual +freshness and fitness of truth; they speak out of profound experience +heart answers to heart as we read them; the spirit that is in man, and +the inspiration that giveth understanding, bear witness to them. The +bent and stress of their testimony are the same, whether written in this +or a past century, by Catholic or Quaker: self-renunciation,-- +reconcilement to the Divine will through simple faith in the Divine +goodness, and the love of it which must needs follow its recognition, the +life of Christ made our own by self-denial and sacrifice, and the +fellowship of His suffering for the good of others, the indwelling +Spirit, leading into all truth, the Divine Word nigh us, even in our +hearts. They have little to do with creeds, or schemes of doctrine, or +the partial and inadequate plans of salvation invented by human +speculation and ascribed to Him who, it is sufficient to know, is able to +save unto the uttermost all who trust in Him. They insist upon simple +faith and holiness of life, rather than rituals or modes of worship; they +leave the merely formal, ceremonial, and temporal part of religion to +take care of itself, and earnestly seek for the substantial, the +necessary, and the permanent. + +With these legacies of devout souls, it seems to me, the little volume +herewith presented is not wholly unworthy of a place. It assumes the +life and power of the gospel as a matter of actual experience; it bears +unmistakable evidence of a realization, on the part of its author, of the +truth, that Christianity is not simply historical and traditional, but +present and permanent, with its roots in the infinite past and its +branches in the infinite future, the eternal spring and growth of Divine +love; not the dying echo of words uttered centuries ago, never to be +repeated, but God's good tidings spoken afresh in every soul,--the +perennial fountain and unstinted outflow of wisdom and goodness, forever +old and forever new. It is a lofty plea for patience, trust, hope, and +holy confidence, under the shadow, as well as in the light, of Christian +experience, whether the cloud seems to rest on the tabernacle, or moves +guidingly forward. It is perhaps too exclusively addressed to those who +minister in the inner sanctuary, to be entirely intelligible to the +vaster number who wait in the outer courts; it overlooks, perhaps, too +much the solidarity and oneness of humanity;' but all who read it will +feel its earnestness, and confess to the singular beauty of its style, +the strong, steady march of its argument, and the wide and varied +learning which illustrates it. + + ("The good are not so good as I once thought, nor the bad so evil, + and in all there is more for grace to make advantage of, and more to + testify for God and holiness, than I once believed."--Baxter.) + +To use the language of one of its reviewers in the Scottish press:-- + +"Beauty there is in the book; exquisite glimpses into the loveliness of +nature here and there shine out from its lines,--a charm wanting which +meditative writing always seems to have a defect; beautiful gleams, too, +there are of the choicest things of art, and frequent allusions by the +way to legend or picture of the religious past; so that, while you read, +you wander by a clear brook of thought, coining far from the beautiful +hills, and winding away from beneath the sunshine of gladness and beauty +into the dense, mysterious forest of human existence, that loves to sing, +amid the shadow of human darkness and anguish, its music of heavenborn +consolation; bringing, too, its pure waters of cleansing and healing, yet +evermore making its praise of holy affection and gladness; while it is +still haunted by the spirits of prophet, saint, and poet, repeating +snatches of their strains, and is led on, as by a spirit from above, to +join the great river of God's truth. . . . + +"This is a book for Christian men, for the quiet hour of holy solitude, +when the heart longs and waits for access to the presence of the Master. +The weary heart that thirsts amidst its conflicts and its toils for +refreshing water will drink eagerly of these sweet and refreshing words. +To thoughtful men and women, especially such as have learnt any of the +patience of hope in the experiences of sorrow and trial, we commend this +little volume most heartily and earnestly." + + +_The Patience of Hope_ fell into my hands soon after its publication in +Edinburgh, some two years ago. I was at once impressed by its +extraordinary richness of language and imagery,--its deep and solemn tone +of meditation in rare combination with an eminently practical tendency,-- +philosophy warm and glowing with love. It will, perhaps, be less the +fault of the writer than of her readers, if they are not always able to +eliminate from her highly poetical and imaginative language the subtle +metaphysical verity or phase of religious experience which she seeks to +express, or that they are compelled to pass over, without appropriation, +many things which are nevertheless profoundly suggestive as vague +possibilities of the highest life. All may not be able to find in some +of her Scriptural citations the exact weight and significance so apparent +to her own mind. She startles us, at times, by her novel applications of +familiar texts, by meanings reflected upon them from her own spiritual +intuitions, making the barren Baca of the letter a well. If the +rendering be questionable, the beauty and quaint felicity of illustration +and comparison are unmistakable; and we call to mind Augustine's saying, +that two or more widely varying interpretations of Scripture may be alike +true in themselves considered. "When one saith, Moses meant as I do,' +and another saith, 'Nay, but as I do,' I ask, more reverently, 'Why not +rather as both, if both be true?" + +Some minds, for instance, will hesitate to assent to the use of certain +Scriptural passages as evidence that He who is the Light of men, the Way +and the Truth, in the mystery of His economy, designedly "delays, +withdraws, and even hides Himself from those who love and follow Him." +They will prefer to impute spiritual dearth and darkness to human +weakness, to the selfishness which seeks a sign for itself, to evil +imaginations indulged, to the taint and burden of some secret sin, or to +some disease and exaggeration of the conscience, growing out of bodily +infirmity, rather than to any purpose on the part of our Heavenly Father +to perplex and mislead His children. The sun does not shine the less +because one side of our planet is in darkness. To borrow the words of +Augustine "Thou, Lord, forsakest nothing thou hast made. Thou alone art +near to those even who remove far from thee. Let them turn and seek +thee, for not as they have forsaken their Creator hast thou forsaken thy +creation." It is only by holding fast the thought of Infinite Goodness, +and interpreting doubtful Scripture and inward spiritual experience by +the light of that central idea, that we can altogether escape the +dreadful conclusion of Pascal, that revelation has been given us in +dubious cipher, contradictory and mystical, in order that some, through +miraculous aid, may understand it to their salvation, and others be +mystified by it to their eternal loss. + +I might mention other points of probable divergence between reader and +writer, and indicate more particularly my own doubtful parse and +hesitancy over some of these pages. But it is impossible for me to make +one to whom I am so deeply indebted an offender for a word or a +Scriptural rendering. On the grave and awful themes which she discusses, +I have little to say in the way of controversy. I would listen, rather +than criticise. The utterances of pious souls, in all ages, are to me +often like fountains in a thirsty land, strengthening and refreshing, yet +not without an after-taste of human frailty and inadequateness, a slight +bitterness of disappointment and unsatisfied quest. Who has not felt at +times that the letter killeth, that prophecies fail, and tongues cease to +edify, and been ready to say, with the author of the Imitation of Christ: +"Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth. Let not Moses nor the prophets +speak to me, but speak thou rather, who art the Inspirer and Enlightener +of all. I am weary with reading and hearing many things; let all +teachers hold their peace; let all creatures keep silence: speak thou +alone to me." + +The writer of The Patience of Hope had, previous to its publication, +announced herself to a fit, if small, audience of earnest and thoughtful +Christians, in a little volume entitled, A Present Heaven. She has +recently published a collection of poems, of which so competent a judge +as Dr. Brown, the author of _Horae Subsecivae_ and _Rab and his Friends_, +thus speaks, in the _North British Review_:-- + +"Such of our readers--a fast increasing number--as have read and enjoyed +_The Patience of Hope_, listening to the gifted nature which, through +such deep and subtile thought, and through affection and godliness still +deeper and more quick, has charmed and soothed them, will not be +surprised to learn that she is not only poetical, but, what is more, a +poet, and one as true as George Herbert and Henry Vaughan, or our own +Cowper; for, with all our admiration of the searching, fearless +speculation, the wonderful power of speaking clearly upon dark and all +but unspeakable subjects, the rich outcome of 'thoughts that wander +through eternity,' which increases every time we take up that wonderful +little book, we confess we were surprised at the kind and the amount of +true poetic _vis_ in these poems, from the same fine and strong hand. +There is a personality and immediateness, a sort of sacredness and +privacy, as if they were overheard rather than read, which gives to these +remarkable productions a charm and a flavor all their own. With no +effort, no consciousness of any end but that of uttering the inmost +thoughts and desires of the heart, they flow out as clear, as living, as +gladdening as the wayside well, coming from out the darkness of the +central depths, filtered into purity by time and travel. The waters are +copious, sometimes to overflowing; but they are always limpid and +unforced, singing their own quiet tune, not saddening, though sometimes +sad, and their darkness not that of obscurity, but of depth, like that of +the deep sea. + +"This is not a book to criticise or speak about, and we give no extracts +from the longer, and in this case, we think, the better poems. In +reading this Cardiphonia set to music, we have been often reminded, not +only of Herbert and Vaughan, but of Keble,--a likeness of the spirit, not +of the letter; for if there is any one poet who has given a bent to her +mind, it is Wordsworth,--the greatest of all our century's poets, both in +himself and in his power of making poets." + +In the belief that whoever peruses the following pages will be +sufficiently interested in their author to be induced to turn back and +read over again, with renewed pleasure, extracts from her metrical +writings, I copy from the volume so warmly commended a few brief pieces +and extracts from the longer poems. + +Here are three sonnets, each a sermon in itself:-- + + + ASCENDING. + + They who from mountain-peaks have gazed upon + The wide, illimitable heavens have said, + That, still receding as they climbed, outspread, + The blue vault deepens over them, and, one + By one drawn further back, each starry sun + Shoots down a feebler splendor overhead + So, Saviour, as our mounting spirits, led + Along Faith's living way to Thee, have won + A nearer access, up the difficult track + Still pressing, on that rarer atmosphere, + When low beneath us flits the cloudy rack, + We see Thee drawn within a widening sphere + Of glory, from us further, further back,-- + Yet is it then because we are more near. + + + LIFE TAPESTRY. + + Top long have I, methought, with tearful eye + Pored o'er this tangled work of mine, and mused + Above each stitch awry and thread confused; + Now will I think on what in years gone by + I heard of them that weave rare tapestry + At royal looms, and hew they constant use + To work on the rough side, and still peruse + The pictured pattern set above them high; + So will I set my copy high above, + And gaze and gaze till on my spirit grows + Its gracious impress; till some line of love, + Transferred upon my canvas, faintly glows; + Nor look too much on warp or woof, provide + He whom I work for sees their fairer side! + + + HOPE. + + When I do think on thee, sweet Hope, and how + Thou followest on our steps, a coaxing child + Oft chidden hence, yet quickly reconciled, + Still turning on us a glad, beaming brow, + And red, ripe lips for kisses: even now + Thou mindest me of him, the Ruler mild, + Who led God's chosen people through the wild, + And bore with wayward murmurers, meek as thou + That bringest waters from the Rock, with bread + Of angels strewing Earth for us! like him + Thy force abates not, nor thine eye grows dim; + But still with milk and honey-droppings fed, + Thou leadest to the Promised Country fair, + Though thou, like Moses, may'st not enter there + + +There is something very weird and striking in the following lines:-- + + + GONE. + + Alone, at midnight as he knelt, his spirit was aware + Of Somewhat falling in between the silence and the prayer; + + A bell's dull clangor that hath sped so far, it faints and dies + So soon as it hath reached the ear whereto its errand lies; + + And as he rose up from his knees, his spirit was aware + Of Somewhat, forceful and unseen, that sought to hold him there; + + As of a Form that stood behind, and on his shoulders prest + Both hands to stay his rising up, and Somewhat in his breast, + + In accents clearer far than words, spake, "Pray yet longer, pray, + For one that ever prayed for thee this night hath passed away; + + "A soul, that climbing hour by hour the silver-shining stair + That leads to God's great treasure-house, grew covetous; and there + + "Was stored no blessing and no boon, for thee she did not claim, + (So lowly, yet importunate!) and ever with thy name + + "She link'd--that none in earth or heaven might hinder it or stay-- + One Other Name, so strong, that thine hath never missed its way. + + "This very night within my arms this gracious soul I bore Within the + Gate, where many a prayer of hers had gone before; + + "And where she resteth, evermore one constant song they raise Of 'Holy, + holy,' so that now I know not if she prays; + + "But for the voice of praise in Heaven, a voice of Prayer hath gone + From Earth; thy name upriseth now no more; pray on, pray on!" + + +The following may serve as a specimen of the writer's lighter, half- +playful strain of moralizing:-- + + + SEEKING. + + "And where, and among what pleasant places, + Have ye been, that ye come again + With your laps so full of flowers, and your faces + Like buds blown fresh after rain?" + + "We have been," said the children, speaking + In their gladness, as the birds chime, + All together,--"we have been seeking + For the Fairies of olden time; + For we thought, they are only hidden,-- + They would never surely go + From this green earth all unbidden, + And the children that love them so. + Though they come not around us leaping, + As they did when they and the world + Were young, we shall find them sleeping + Within some broad leaf curled; + For the lily its white doors closes + But only over the bee, + And we looked through the summer roses, + Leaf by leaf, so carefully. + + But we thought, rolled up we shall find them + Among mosses old and dry; + From gossamer threads that bind them, + They will start like the butterfly, + All winged: so we went forth seeking, + Yet still they have kept unseen; + Though we think our feet have been keeping + The track where they have been, + For we saw where their dance went flying + O'er the pastures,--snowy white." + + Their seats and their tables lying, + O'erthrown in their sudden flight. + And they, too, have had their losses, + For we found the goblets white + And red in the old spiked mosses, + That they drank from over-night; + And in the pale horn of the woodbine + Was some wine left, clear and bright; + "But we found," said the children, speaking + More quickly, "so many things, + That we soon forgot we were seeking,-- + Forgot all the Fairy rings, + Forgot all the stories olden + That we hear round the fire at night, + Of their gifts and their favors golden,-- + The sunshine was so bright; + And the flowers,--we found so many + That it almost made us grieve + To think there were some, sweet as any, + That we were forced to leave; + As we left, by the brook-side lying, + The balls of drifted foam, + And brought (after all our trying) + These Guelder-roses home." + + "Then, oh!" I heard one speaking + Beside me soft and low, + "I have been, like the blessed children, seeking, + Still seeking, to and fro; + Yet not, like them, for the Fairies,-- + They might pass unmourned away + For me, that had looked on angels,-- + On angels that would not stay; + No! not though in haste before them + I spread all my heart's best cheer, + And made love my banner o'er them, + If it might but keep them here; + They stayed but a while to rest them; + Long, long before its close, + From my feast, though I mourned and prest them + The radiant guests arose; + And their flitting wings struck sadness + And silence; never more + Hath my soul won back the gladness, + That was its own before. + No; I mourned not for the Fairies + When I had seen hopes decay, + That were sweet unto my spirit + So long; I said, 'If they, + That through shade and sunny weather + Have twined about my heart, + Should fade, we must go together, + For we can never part!' + But my care was not availing; + I found their sweetness gone; + I saw their bright tints paling;-- + They died; yet I lived on. + + "Yet seeking, ever seeking, + Like the children, I have won + A guerdon all undreamt of + + When first my quest begun, + And my thoughts come back like wanderers, + Out-wearied, to my breast; + What they sought for long they found not, + Yet was the Unsought best. + For I sought not out for crosses, + I did not seek for pain; + Yet I find the heart's sore losses + Were the spirit's surest gain." + + +In _A Meditation_, the writer ventures, not without awe and reverence, +upon that dim, unsounded ocean of mystery, the life beyond:-- + + + "But is there prayer + Within your quiet homes, and is there care + For those ye leave behind? I would address + My spirit to this theme in humbleness + No tongue nor pen hath uttered or made known + This mystery, and thus I do but guess + At clearer types through lowlier patterns shown; + Yet when did Love on earth forsake its own? + Ye may not quit your sweetness; in the Vine + More firmly rooted than of old, your wine + Hath freer flow! ye have not changed, but grown + To fuller stature; though the shock was keen + That severed you from us, how oft below + Hath sorest parting smitten but to show + True hearts their hidden wealth that quickly grow + The closer for that anguish,--friend to friend + Revealed more clear,--and what is Death to rend + The ties of life and love, when He must fade + In light of very Life, when He must bend + To love, that, loving, loveth to the end? + + "I do not deem ye look + Upon us now, for be it that your eyes + Are sealed or clear, a burden on them lies + Too deep and blissful for their gaze to brook + Our troubled strife; enough that once ye dwelt + Where now we dwell, enough that once ye felt + As now we feel, to bid you recognize + Our claim of kindred cherished though unseen; + And Love that is to you for eye and ear + Hath ways unknown to us to bring you near,-- + To keep you near for all that comes between; + As pious souls that move in sleep to prayer, + As distant friends, that see not, and yet share + (I speak of what I know) each other's care, + So may your spirits blend with ours! + Above Ye know not haply of our state, yet + Love Acquaints you with our need, and through a way + More sure than that of knowledge--so ye pray! + + "And even thus we meet, + And even thus we commune! spirits freed + And spirits fettered mingle, nor have need + To seek a common atmosphere, the air + Is meet for either in this olden, sweet, + Primeval breathing of Man's spirit,--Prayer!" + + +I give, in conclusion, a portion of one of her most characteristic poems, +_The Reconciler_:-- + + + "Our dreams are reconciled, + Since Thou didst come to turn them all to Truth; + The World, the Heart, are dreamers in their youth + Of visions beautiful, and strange and wild; + And Thou, our Life's Interpreter, dost still + At once make clear these visions and fulfil; + + Each dim sweet Orphic rhyme, + Each mythic tale sublime + Of strength to save, of sweetness to subdue, + Each morning dream the few, + Wisdom's first lovers told, if read in Thee comes true. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . . + + "Thou, O Friend + From heaven, that madest this our heart Thine own, + Dost pierce the broken language of its moan-- + Thou dost not scorn our needs, but satisfy! + Each yearning deep and wide, + Each claim, is justified; + Our young illusions fail not, though they die + Within the brightness of Thy Rising, kissed + To happy death, like early clouds that lie + About the gates of Dawn,--a golden mist + Paling to blissful white, through rose and amethyst. + + "The World that puts Thee by, + That opens not to greet Thee with Thy train, + That sendeth after Thee the sullen cry, + 'We will not have Thee over us to reign,' + Itself Both testify through searchings vain + Of Thee and of its need, and for the good + It will not, of some base similitude + Takes up a taunting witness, till its mood, + Grown fierce o'er failing hopes, doth rend and tear + Its own illusions grown too thin and bare + To wrap it longer; for within the gate + Where all must pass, a veiled and hooded Fate, + A dark Chimera, coiled and tangled lies, + And he who answers not its questions dies,-- + Still changing form and speech, but with the same + Vexed riddles, Gordian-twisted, bringing shame + Upon the nations that with eager cry + Hail each new solver of the mystery; + Yet he, of these the best, + Bold guesser, hath but prest + Most nigh to Thee, our noisy plaudits wrong; + True Champion, that hast wrought + Our help of old, and brought + Meat from this eater, sweetness from this strong. + + "O Bearer of the key + That shuts and opens with a sound so sweet + Its turning in the wards is melody, + All things we move among are incomplete + And vain until we fashion them in Thee! + We labor in the fire, + Thick smoke is round about us; through the din + Of words that darken counsel clamors dire + Ring from thought's beaten anvil, where within + Two Giants toil, that even from their birth + With travail-pangs have torn their mother Earth, + And wearied out her children with their keen + Upbraidings of the other, till between + Thou tamest, saying, 'Wherefore do ye wrong + Each other?--ye are Brethren.' Then these twain + Will own their kindred, and in Thee retain + Their claims in peace, because Thy land is wide + As it is goodly! here they pasture free, + This lion and this leopard, side by side, + A little child doth lead them with a song; + Now, Ephraim's envy ceaseth, and no more + Doth Judah anger Ephraim chiding sore, + For one did ask a Brother, one a King, + So dost Thou gather them in one, and bring-- + Thou, King forevermore, forever Priest, + Thou, Brother of our own from bonds released + A Law of Liberty, + A Service making free, + A Commonweal where each has all in Thee. + + "And not alone these wide, + Deep-planted yearnings, seeking with a cry + Their meat from God, in Thee are satisfied; + But all our instincts waking suddenly + Within the soul, like infants from their sleep + That stretch their arms into the dark and weep, + Thy voice can still. The stricken heart bereft + Of all its brood of singing hopes, and left + 'Mid leafless boughs, a cold, forsaken nest + With snow-flakes in it, folded in Thy breast + Doth lose its deadly chill; and grief that creeps + Unto Thy side for shelter, finding there + The wound's deep cleft, forgets its moan, and weeps + Calm, quiet tears, and on Thy forehead Care + Hath looked until its thorns, no longer bare, + Put forth pale roses. Pain on Thee doth press + Its quivering cheek, and all the weariness, + The want that keep their silence, till from Thee + They hear the gracious summons, none beside + Hath spoken to the world-worn, 'Come to me,' + Tell forth their heavy secrets. + + "Thou dost hide + These in Thy bosom, and not these alone, + But all our heart's fond treasure that had grown + A burden else: O Saviour, tears were weighed + To Thee in plenteous measure! none hath shown + That Thou didst smile! yet hast Thou surely made + All joy of ours Thine own. + + "Thou madest us for Thine; + We seek amiss, we wander to and fro; + Yet are we ever on the track Divine; + The soul confesseth Thee, but sense is slow + To lean on aught but that which it may see; + So hath it crowded up these Courts below + With dark and broken images of Thee; + Lead Thou us forth upon Thy Mount, and show + Thy goodly patterns, whence these things of old + By Thee were fashioned; One though manifold. + Glass Thou Thy perfect likeness in the soul, + Show us Thy countenance, and we are whole!" + + +No one, I am quite certain, will regret that I have made these liberal +quotations. Apart from their literary merit, they have a special +interest for the readers of The Patience of Hope, as more fully +illustrating the writer's personal experience and aspirations. + +It has been suggested by a friend that it is barely possible that an +objection may be urged against the following treatise, as against all +books of a like character, that its tendency is to isolate the individual +from his race, and to nourish an exclusive and purely selfish personal +solicitude; that its piety is self-absorbent, and that it does not take +sufficiently into account active duties and charities, and the love of +the neighbor so strikingly illustrated by the Divine Master in His life +and teachings. This objection, if valid, would be a fatal one. For, of +a truth, there can be no meaner type of human selfishness than that +afforded by him who, unmindful of the world of sin and suffering about +him, occupies himself in the pitiful business of saving his own soul, in +the very spirit of the miser, watching over his private hoard while his +neighbors starve for lack of bread. But surely the benevolent unrest, +the far-reaching sympathies and keen sensitiveness to the suffering of +others, which so nobly distinguish our present age, can have nothing to +fear from a plea for personal holiness, patience, hope, and resignation +to the Divine will. "The more piety, the more compassion," says Isaac +Taylor; and this is true, if we understand by piety, not self-concentred +asceticism, but the pure religion and undefiled which visits the widow +and the fatherless, and yet keeps itself unspotted from the world,--which +deals justly, loves mercy, and yet walks humbly before God. Self- +scrutiny in the light of truth can do no harm to any one, least of all to +the reformer and philanthropist. The spiritual warrior, like the young +candidate for knighthood, may be none the worse for his preparatory +ordeal of watching all night by his armor. + +Tauler in mediaeval times and Woolman in the last century are among the +most earnest teachers of the inward life and spiritual nature of +Christianity, yet both were distinguished for practical benevolence. +They did not separate the two great commandments. Tauler strove with +equal intensity of zeal to promote the temporal and the spiritual welfare +of men. In the dark and evil time in which he lived, amidst the untold +horrors of the "Black Plague," he illustrated by deeds of charity and +mercy his doctrine of disinterested benevolence. Woolman's whole life +was a nobler Imitation of Christ than that fervid rhapsody of monastic +piety which bears the name. + +How faithful, yet, withal, how full of kindness, were his rebukes of +those who refused labor its just reward, and ground the faces of the +poor? How deep and entire was his sympathy with overtasked and ill-paid +laborers; with wet and illprovided sailors; with poor wretches +blaspheming in the mines, because oppression had made them mad; with the +dyers plying their unhealthful trade to minister to luxury and pride; +with the tenant wearing out his life in the service of a hard landlord; +and with the slave sighing over his unrequited toil! What a significance +there was in his vision of the "dull, gloomy mass" which appeared before +him, darkening half the heavens, and which he was told was "human beings +in as great misery as they could be and live; and he was mixed with them, +and henceforth he might not consider himself a distinct and separate +being"! His saintliness was wholly unconscious; he seems never to have +thought himself any nearer to the tender heart of God than the most +miserable sinner to whom his compassion extended. As he did not +live, so neither did he die to himself. His prayer upon his death-bed +was for others rather than himself; its beautiful humility and simple +trust were marred by no sensual imagery of crowns and harps and golden +streets, and personal beatific exaltations; but tender and touching +concern for suffering humanity, relieved only by the thought of the +paternity of God, and of His love and omnipotence, alone found utterance +in ever-memorable words. + +In view of the troubled state of the country and the intense +preoccupation of the public mind, I have had some hesitation in offering +this volume to its publishers. But, on further reflection, it has seemed +to me that it might supply a want felt by many among us; that, in the +chaos of civil strife and the shadow of mourning which rests over the +land, the contemplation of "things unseen which are eternal" might not be +unwelcome; that, when the foundations of human confidence are shaken, and +the trust in man proves vain, there might be glad listeners to a voice +calling from the outward and the temporal to the inward and the +spiritual; from the troubles and perplexities of time, to the eternal +quietness which God giveth. I cannot but believe that, in the heat and +glare through which we are passing, this book will not invite in vain to +the calm, sweet shadows of holy meditation, grateful as the green wings +of the bird to Thalaba in the desert; and thus afford something of +consolation to the bereaved, and of strength to the weary. For surely +never was the Patience of Hope more needed; never was the inner sanctuary +of prayer more desirable; never was a steadfast faith in the Divine +goodness more indispensable, nor lessons of self-sacrifice and +renunciation, and that cheerful acceptance of known duty which shifts not +its proper responsibility upon others, nor asks for "peace in its day" at +the expense of purity and justice, more timely than now, when the solemn +words of ancient prophecy are as applicable to our own country as to that +of the degenerate Jew,--"Thine own wickedness shall correct thee, and thy +backsliding reprove thee; know, therefore, it is an evil thing, and +bitter, that thou bast forsaken the Lord, and that my fear is not in +thee,"--when "His way is in the deep, in clouds, and in thick darkness," +and the hand heavy upon us which shall "turn and overturn until he whose +right it is shall reign,"--until, not without rending agony, the evil +plant which our Heavenly Father hath not planted, whose roots have wound +themselves about altar and hearth-stone, and whose branches, like the +tree Al-Accoub in Moslem fable, bear the accursed fruit of oppression, +rebellion, and all imaginable crime, shall be torn up and destroyed +forever. + +AMESBURY, 1st 6th mo., 1862. + + + + +THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS. + +The following letters were addressed to the Editor of the Friends' Review +in Philadelphia, in reference to certain changes of principle and +practice in the Society then beginning to be observable, but which have +since more than justified the writer's fears and solicitude. + + +I. + + AMESBURY, 2d mo., 1870. + +TO THE EDITOR OF THE REVIEW. + +ESTEEMED FRIEND,--If I have been hitherto a silent, I have not been an +indifferent, spectator of the movements now going on in our religious +Society. Perhaps from lack of faith, I have been quite too solicitous +concerning them, and too much afraid that in grasping after new things we +may let go of old things too precious to be lost. Hence I have been +pleased to see from time to time in thy paper very timely and fitting +articles upon a _Hired Ministry_ and _Silent Worship_. + +The present age is one of sensation and excitement, of extreme measures +and opinions, of impatience of all slow results. The world about us +moves with accelerated impulse, and we move with it: the rest we have +enjoyed, whether true or false, is broken; the title-deeds of our +opinions, the reason of our practices, are demanded. Our very right to +exist as a distinct society is questioned. Our old literature--the +precious journals and biographies of early and later Friends--is +comparatively neglected for sensational and dogmatic publications. We +bear complaints of a want of educated ministers; the utility of silent +meetings is denied, and praying and preaching regarded as matters of will +and option. There is a growing desire for experimenting upon the dogmas +and expedients and practices of other sects. I speak only of admitted +facts, and not for the purpose of censure or complaint. No one has less +right than myself to indulge in heresy-hunting or impatience of minor +differences of opinion. If my dear friends can bear with me, I shall not +find it a hard task to bear with them. + +But for myself I prefer the old ways. With the broadest possible +tolerance for all honest seekers after truth! I love the Society of +Friends. My life has been nearly spent in laboring with those of other +sects in behalf of the suffering and enslaved; and I have never felt like +quarrelling with Orthodox or Unitarians, who were willing to pull with +me, side by side, at the rope of Reform. A very large proportion of my +dearest personal friends are outside of our communion; and I have learned +with John Woolman to find "no narrowness respecting sects and opinions." +But after a kindly and candid survey of them all, I turn to my own +Society, thankful to the Divine Providence which placed me where I am; +and with an unshaken faith in the one distinctive doctrine of Quakerism-- +the Light within--the immanence of the Divine Spirit in Christianity. I +cheerfully recognize and bear testimony to the good works and lives of +those who widely differ in faith and practice; but I have seen no truer +types of Christianity, no better men and women, than I have known and +still know among those who not blindly, but intelligently, hold the +doctrines and maintain the testimonies of our early Friends. I am not +blind to the shortcomings of Friends. I know how much we have lost by +narrowness and coldness and inactivity, the overestimate of external +observances, the neglect of our own proper work while acting as +conscience-keepers for others. We have not, as a society, been active +enough in those simple duties which we owe to our suffering fellow- +creatures, in that abundant labor of love and self-denial which is never +out of place. Perhaps our divisions and dissensions might have been +spared us if we had been less "at ease in Zion." It is in the decline of +practical righteousness that men are most likely to contend with each +other for dogma and ritual, for shadow and letter, instead of substance +and spirit. Hence I rejoice in every sign of increased activity in doing +good among us, in the precious opportunities afforded of working with the +Divine Providence for the Freedmen and Indians; since the more we do, in +the true spirit of the gospel, for others, the more we shall really do +for ourselves. There is no danger of lack of work for those who, with an +eye single to the guidance of Truth, look for a place in God's vineyard; +the great work which the founders of our Society began is not yet done; +the mission of Friends is not accomplished, and will not be until this +world of ours, now full of sin and suffering, shall take up, in jubilant +thanksgiving, the song of the Advent: "Glory to God in the highest! +Peace on earth and good-will to men!" + +It is charged that our Society lacks freedom and adaptation to the age in +which we live, that there is a repression of individuality and manliness +among us. I am not prepared to deny it in certain respects. But, if we +look at the matter closely, we shall see that the cause is not in the +central truth of Quakerism, but in a failure to rightly comprehend it; in +an attempt to fetter with forms and hedge about with dogmas that great +law of Christian liberty, which I believe affords ample scope for the +highest spiritual aspirations and the broadest philanthropy. If we did +but realize it, we are "set in a large place." + +"We may do all we will save wickedness." + +"Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty." + +Quakerism, in the light of its great original truth, is "exceeding +broad." As interpreted by Penn and Barclay it is the most liberal and +catholic of faiths. If we are not free, generous, tolerant, if we are +not up to or above the level of the age in good works, in culture and +love of beauty, order and fitness, if we are not the ready recipients of +the truths of science and philosophy,--in a word, if we are not full- +grown men and Christians, the fault is not in Quakerism, but in +ourselves. We shall gain nothing by aping the customs and trying to +adjust ourselves to the creeds of other sects. By so doing we make at +the best a very awkward combination, and just as far as it is successful, +it is at the expense of much that is vital in our old faith. If, for +instance, I could bring myself to believe a hired ministry and a written +creed essential to my moral and spiritual well-being, I think I should +prefer to sit down at once under such teachers as Bushnell and Beecher, +the like of whom in Biblical knowledge, ecclesiastical learning, and +intellectual power, we are not likely to manufacture by half a century of +theological manipulation in a Quaker "school of the prophets." If I must +go into the market and buy my preaching, I should naturally seek the best +article on sale, without regard to the label attached to it. + +I am not insensible of the need of spiritual renovation in our Society. +I feel and confess my own deficiencies as an individual member. And I +bear a willing testimony to the zeal and devotion of some dear friends, +who, lamenting the low condition and worldliness too apparent among us, +seek to awaken a stronger religious life by the partial adoption of the +practices, forms, and creeds of more demonstrative sects. The great +apparent activity of these sects seems to them to contrast very strongly +with our quietness and reticence; and they do not always pause to inquire +whether the result of this activity is a truer type of practical +Christianity than is found in our select gatherings. I think I +understand these brethren; to some extent I have sympathized with them. +But it seems clear to me, that a remedy for the alleged evil lies not in +going back to the "beggarly elements" from which our worthy ancestors +called the people of their generation; not in will-worship; not in +setting the letter above the spirit; not in substituting type and symbol, +and oriental figure and hyperbole for the simple truths they were +intended to represent; not in schools of theology; not in much speaking +and noise and vehemence, nor in vain attempts to make the "plain +language" of Quakerism utter the Shibboleth of man-made creeds: but in +heeding more closely the Inward Guide and Teacher; in faith in Christ not +merely in His historical manifestation of the Divine Love to humanity, +but in His living presence in the hearts open to receive Him; in love for +Him manifested in denial of self, in charity and love to our neighbor; +and in a deeper realization of the truth of the apostle's declaration: +"Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit +the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself +unspotted from the world." + +In conclusion, let me say that I have given this expression of my +opinions with some degree of hesitation, being very sensible that I have +neither the right nor the qualification to speak for a society whose +doctrines and testimonies commend themselves to my heart and head, whose +history is rich with the precious legacy of holy lives, and of whose +usefulness as a moral and spiritual Force in the world I am fully +assured. + + +II. + +Having received several letters from dear friends in various sections +suggested by a recent communication in thy paper, and not having time or +health to answer them in detail, will thou permit me in this way to +acknowledge them, and to say to the writers that I am deeply sensible of +the Christian love and personal good-will to myself, which, whether in +commendation or dissent, they manifest? I think I may say in truth that +my letter was written in no sectarian or party spirit, but simply to +express a solicitude, which, whether groundless or not, was nevertheless +real. I am, from principle, disinclined to doctrinal disputations and +so-called religious controversies, which only tend to separate and +disunite. We have had too many divisions already. I intended no censure +of dear brethren whose zeal and devotion command my sympathy, +notwithstanding I may not be able to see with them in all respects. The +domain of individual conscience is to me very sacred; and it seems the +part of Christian charity to make a large allowance for varying +experiences; mental characteristics, and temperaments, as well as for +that youthful enthusiasm which, if sometimes misdirected, has often been +instrumental in infusing a fresher life into the body of religious +profession. It is too much to expect that we can maintain an entire +uniformity in the expression of truths in which we substantially agree; +and we should be careful that a rightful concern for "the form of sound +words" does not become what William Penn calls "verbal orthodoxy." We +must consider that the same accepted truth looks somewhat differently +from different points of vision. Knowing our own weaknesses and +limitations, we must bear in mind that human creeds, speculations, +expositions, and interpretations of the Divine plan are but the faint and +feeble glimpses of finite creatures into the infinite mysteries of God. + + "They are but broken lights of Thee, + And Thou, O Lord, art more than they." + +Differing, as we do, more or less as to means and methods, if we indeed +have the "mind of Christ," we shall rejoice in whatever of good is really +accomplished, although by somewhat different instrumentalities than those +which we feel ourselves free to make use of, remembering that our Lord +rebuked the narrowness and partisanship of His disciples by assuring them +that they that were not against Him were for Him. + +It would, nevertheless, give me great satisfaction to know, as thy kindly +expressed editorial comments seem to intimate, that I have somewhat +overestimated the tendencies of things in our Society. I have no pride +of opinion which would prevent me from confessing with thankfulness my +error of judgment. In any event, it can, I think, do no harm to repeat +my deep conviction that we may all labor, in the ability given us, for +our own moral and spiritual well-being, and that of our fellow-creatures, +without laying aside the principles and practice of our religious +Society. I believe so much of liberty is our right as well as our +privilege, and that we need not really overstep our bounds for the +performance of any duty which may be required of us. When truly called +to contemplate broader fields of labor, we shall find the walls about us, +like the horizon seen from higher levels, expanding indeed, but nowhere +broken. + +I believe that the world needs the Society of Friends as a testimony and +a standard. I know that this is the opinion of some of the best and most +thoughtful members of other Christian sects. I know that any serious +departure from the original foundation of our Society would give pain to +many who, outside of our communion, deeply realize the importance of our +testimonies. They fail to read clearly the signs of the times who do not +see that the hour is coming when, under the searching eye of philosophy +and the terrible analysis of science, the letter and the outward evidence +will not altogether avail us; when the surest dependence must be upon the +Light of Christ within, disclosing the law and the prophets in our own +souls, and confirming the truth of outward Scripture by inward +experience; when smooth stones from the brook of present revelation +shall' prove mightier than the weapons of Saul; when the doctrine of the +Holy Spirit, as proclaimed by George Fox and lived by John Woolman, shall +be recognized as the only efficient solvent of doubts raised by an age of +restless inquiry. In this belief my letter was written. I am sorry it +did not fall to the lot of a more fitting hand; and can only hope that no +consideration of lack of qualification on the part of its writer may +lessen the value of whatever testimony to truth shall be found in it. + +AMESBURY, 3d mo., 1870. + + +P. S. I may mention that I have been somewhat encouraged by a perusal of +the Proceedings of the late First-day School Conference in Philadelphia, +where, with some things which I am compelled to pause over, and regret, I +find much with which I cordially unite, and which seems to indicate a +providential opening for good. I confess to a lively and tender sympathy +with my younger brethren and sisters who, in the name of Him who "went +about doing good," go forth into the highways and byways to gather up the +lost, feed the hungry, instruct the ignorant, and point the sinsick and +suffering to the hopes and consolations of Christian faith, even if, at +times, their zeal goes beyond "reasonable service," and although the +importance of a particular instrumentality may be exaggerated, and love +lose sight of its needful companion humility, and he that putteth on his +armor boast like him who layeth it off. Any movement, however irregular, +which indicates life, is better than the quiet of death. In the +overruling providence of God, the troubling may prepare the way for +healing. Some of us may have erred on one hand and some on the other, +and this shaking of the balance may adjust it. + + + + +JOHN WOOLMAN'S JOURNAL. + +Originally published as an introduction to a reissue of the work. + +To those who judge by the outward appearance, nothing is more difficult +of explanation than the strength of moral influence often exerted by +obscure and uneventful lives. Some great reform which lifts the world to +a higher level, some mighty change for which the ages have waited in +anxious expectancy, takes place before our eyes, and, in seeking to trace +it back to its origin, we are often surprised to find the initial link in +the chain of causes to be some comparatively obscure individual, the +divine commission and significance of whose life were scarcely understood +by his contemporaries, and perhaps not even by himself. The little one +has become a thousand; the handful of corn shakes like Lebanon. "The +kingdom of God cometh not by observation;" and the only solution of the +mystery is in the reflection that through the humble instrumentality +Divine power was manifested, and that the Everlasting Arm was beneath the +human one. + +The abolition of human slavery now in process of consummation throughout +the world furnishes one of the most striking illustrations of this truth. +A far-reaching moral, social, and political revolution, undoing the evil +work of centuries, unquestionably owes much of its original impulse to +the life and labors of a poor, unlearned workingman of New Jersey, whose +very existence was scarcely known beyond the narrow circle of his +religious society. + +It is only within a comparatively recent period that the journal and +ethical essays of this remarkable man have attracted the attention to +which they are manifestly entitled. In one of my last interviews with +William Ellery Channing, he expressed his very great surprise that they +were so little known. He had himself just read the book for the first +time, and I shall never forget how his countenance lighted up as he +pronounced it beyond comparison the sweetest and purest autobiography in +the language. He wished to see it placed within the reach of all classes +of readers; it was not a light to be hidden under the bushel of a sect. +Charles Lamb, probably from his friends, the Clarksons, or from Bernard +Barton, became acquainted with it, and on more than one occasion, in his +letters and Essays of Elia, refers to it with warm commendation. Edward +Irving pronounced it a godsend. Some idea of the lively interest which +the fine literary circle gathered around the hearth of Lamb felt in the +beautiful simplicity of Woolman's pages may be had from the Diary of +Henry Crabb Robinson, one of their number, himself a man of wide and +varied culture, the intimate friend of Goethe, Wordsworth, and Coleridge. +In his notes for First Month, 1824, he says, after a reference to a +sermon of his friend Irving, which he feared would deter rather than +promote belief: + +"How different this from John Woolman's Journal I have been reading at +the same time! A perfect gem! His is a _schone Seele_, a beautiful +soul. An illiterate tailor, he writes in a style of the most exquisite +purity and grace. His moral qualities are transferred to his writings. +Had he not been so very humble, he would have written a still better +book; for, fearing to indulge in vanity, he conceals the events in which +he was a great actor. His religion was love. His whole existence and +all his passions were love. If one could venture to impute to his creed, +and not to his personal character, the delightful frame of mind he +exhibited, one could not hesitate to be a convert. His Christianity is +most inviting, it is fascinating! One of the leading British reviews a +few years ago, referring to this Journal, pronounced its author the man +who, in all the centuries since the advent of Christ, lived nearest to +the Divine pattern. The author of The Patience of Hope, whose authority +in devotional literature is unquestioned, says of him: 'John Woolman's +gift was love, a charity of which it does not enter into the natural +heart of man to conceive, and of which the more ordinary experiences, +even of renewed nature, give but a faint shadow. Every now and then, in +the world's history, we meet with such men, the kings and priests of +Humanity, on whose heads this precious ointment has been so poured forth +that it has run down to the skirts of their clothing, and extended over +the whole of the visible creation; men who have entered, like Francis of +Assisi, into the secret of that deep amity with God and with His +creatures which makes man to be in league with the stones of the field, +and the beasts of the field to be at peace with him. In this pure, +universal charity there is nothing fitful or intermittent, nothing that +comes and goes in showers and gleams and sunbursts. Its springs are deep +and constant, its rising is like that of a mighty river, its very +overflow calm and steady, leaving life and fertility behind it.'" + +After all, anything like personal eulogy seems out of place in speaking +of one who in the humblest self-abasement sought no place in the world's +estimation, content to be only a passive instrument in the hands of his +Master; and who, as has been remarked, through modesty concealed the +events in which he was an actor. A desire to supply in some sort this +deficiency in his Journal is my especial excuse for this introductory +paper. + +It is instructive to study the history of the moral progress of +individuals or communities; to mark the gradual development of truth; to +watch the slow germination of its seed sown in simple obedience to the +command of the Great Husbandman, while yet its green promise, as well as +its golden fruition, was hidden from the eyes of the sower; to go back to +the well-springs and fountain-heads, tracing the small streamlet from its +hidden source, and noting the tributaries which swell its waters, as it +moves onward, until it becomes a broad river, fertilizing and gladdening +our present humanity. To this end it is my purpose, as briefly as +possible, to narrate the circumstances attending the relinquishment of +slave-holding by the Society of Friends, and to hint at the effect of +that act of justice and humanity upon the abolition of slavery throughout +the world. + +At an early period after the organization of the Society, members of it +emigrated to the Maryland, Carolina, Virginia, and New England colonies. +The act of banishment enforced against dissenters under Charles II. +consigned others of the sect to the West Indies, where their frugality, +temperance, and thrift transmuted their intended punishment into a +blessing. Andrew Marvell, the inflexible republican statesman, in some +of the sweetest and tenderest lines in the English tongue, has happily +described their condition:-- + + What shall we do but sing His praise + Who led us through the watery maze, + Unto an isle so long unknown, + And yet far kinder than our own? + He lands us on a grassy stage, + Safe from the storms and prelates' rage; + He gives us this eternal spring, + Which here enamels everything, + And sends the fowls to us in care, + On daily visits through the air. + He hangs in shades the orange bright, + Like golden lamps, in a green night, + And doth in the pomegranate close + Jewels more rich than Ormus shows. + + . . . . . . . . . + + And in these rocks for us did frame + A temple where to sound His name. + Oh! let our voice His praise exalt, + Till it arrive at heaven's vault, + Which then, perhaps rebounding, may + Echo beyond the Mexic bay.' + + "So sang they in the English boat, + A holy and a cheerful note; + And all the way, to guide their chime, + With falling oars they kept the time." + +Unhappily, they very early became owners of slaves, in imitation of the +colonists around them. No positive condemnation of the evil system had +then been heard in the British islands. Neither English prelates nor +expounders at dissenting conventicles had aught to say against it. Few +colonists doubted its entire compatibility with Christian profession and +conduct. Saint and sinner, ascetic and worldling, united in its +practice. Even the extreme Dutch saints of Bohemia Manor community, the +pietists of John de Labadie, sitting at meat with hats on, and pausing +ever and anon with suspended mouthfuls to bear a brother's or sister's +exhortation, and sandwiching prayers between the courses, were waited +upon by negro slaves. Everywhere men were contending with each other +upon matters of faith, while, so far as their slaves were concerned, +denying the ethics of Christianity itself. + +Such was the state of things when, in 1671, George Fox visited Barbadoes. +He was one of those men to whom it is given to discern through the mists +of custom and prejudice something of the lineaments of absolute truth, +and who, like the Hebrew lawgiver, bear with them, from a higher and +purer atmosphere, the shining evidence of communion with the Divine +Wisdom. He saw slavery in its mildest form among his friends, but his +intuitive sense of right condemned it. He solemnly admonished those who +held slaves to bear in mind that they were brethren, and to train them up +in the fear of God. "I desired, also," he says, "that they would cause +their overseers to deal gently and mildly with their negroes, and not use +cruelty towards them as the manner of some hath been and is; and that, +after certain years of servitude, they should make them free." + +In 1675, the companion of George Fox, William Edmundson, revisited +Barbadoes, and once more bore testimony against the unjust treatment of +slaves. He was accused of endeavoring to excite an insurrection among +the blacks, and was brought before the Governor on the charge. It was +probably during this journey that he addressed a remonstrance to friends +in Maryland and Virginia on the subject of holding slaves. It is one of +the first emphatic and decided testimonies on record against negro +slavery as incompatible with Christianity, if we except the Papal bulls +of Urban and Leo the Tenth. + +Thirteen years after, in 1688, a meeting of German Quakers, who had +emigrated from Kriesbeim, and settled at Germantown, Pennsylvania, +addressed a memorial against "the buying and keeping of negroes" to the +Yearly Meeting for the Pennsylvania and New Jersey colonies. That +meeting took the subject into consideration, but declined giving judgment +in the case. In 1696, the Yearly Meeting advised against "bringing in +any more negroes." In 1714, in its Epistle to London Friends, it +expresses a wish that Friends would be "less concerned in buying or +selling slaves." The Chester Quarterly Meeting, which had taken a higher +and clearer view of the matter, continued to press the Yearly Meeting to +adopt some decided measure against any traffic in human beings. + +The Society gave these memorials a cold reception. The love of gain and +power was too strong, on the part of the wealthy and influential planters +and merchants who had become slaveholders, to allow the scruples of the +Chester meeting to take the shape of discipline. The utmost that could +be obtained of the Yearly Meeting was an expression of opinion adverse to +the importation of negroes, and a desire that "Friends generally do, as +much as may be, avoid buying such negroes as shall hereafter be brought +in, rather than offend any Friends who are against it; yet this is only +caution, and not censure." + +In the mean time the New England Yearly Meeting was agitated by the same +question. Slaves were imported into Boston and Newport, and Friends +became purchasers, and in some instances were deeply implicated in the +foreign traffic. In 1716, the monthly meetings of Dartmouth and +Nantucket suggested that it was "not agreeable to truth to purchase +slaves and keep them during their term of life." Nothing was done in the +Yearly Meeting, however, until 1727, when the practice of importing +negroes was censured. That the practice was continued notwithstanding, +for many years afterwards, is certain. In 1758, a rule was adopted +prohibiting Friends within the limits of New England Yearly Meeting from +engaging in or countenancing the foreign slave-trade. + +In the year 1742 an event, simple and inconsiderable in itself, was made +the instrumentality of exerting a mighty influence upon slavery in the +Society of Friends. A small storekeeper at Mount Holly, in New Jersey, a +member of the Society, sold a negro woman, and requested the young man in +his employ to make a bill of sale of her. + + (Mount Holly is a village lying in the western part of the long, + narrow township of Northampton, on Rancocas Creek, a tributary of + the Delaware. In John Woolman's day it was almost entirely a + settlement of Friends. A very few of the old houses with their + quaint stoops or porches are left. That occupied by John Woolman + was a small, plain, two-story structure, with two windows in each + story in front, a four-barred fence inclosing the grounds, with the + trees he planted and loved to cultivate. The house was not painted, + but whitewashed. The name of the place is derived from the highest + hill in the county, rising two hundred feet above the sea, and + commanding a view of a rich and level country, of cleared farms and + woodlands. Here, no doubt, John Woolman often walked under the + shadow of its holly-trees, communing with nature and musing on the + great themes of life and duty. + + When the excellent Joseph Sturge was in this country, some thirty + years ago, on his errand of humanity, he visited Mount Holly, and + the house of Woolman, then standing. He describes it as a very + "humble abode." But one person was then living in the town who had + ever seen its venerated owner. This aged man stated that he was at + Woolman's little farm in the season of harvest when it was customary + among farmers to kill a calf or sheep for the laborers. John + Woolman, unwilling that the animal should be slowly bled to death, + as the custom had been, and to spare it unnecessary suffering, had a + smooth block of wood prepared to receive the neck of the creature, + when a single blow terminated its existence. Nothing was more + remarkable in the character of Woolman than his concern for the + well-being and comfort of the brute creation. "What is religion?" + asks the old Hindoo writer of the Vishnu Sarman. "Tenderness toward + all creatures." Or, as Woolman expresses it, "Where the love of God + is verily perfected, a tenderness towards all creatures made subject + to our will is experienced, and a care felt that we do not lessen + that sweetness of life in the animal creation which the Creator + intends for them under our government.") + +On taking up his pen, the young clerk felt a sudden and strong scruple in +his mind. The thought of writing an instrument of slavery for one of his +fellow-creatures oppressed him. God's voice against the desecration of +His image spoke in the soul. He yielded to the will of his employer, +but, while writing the instrument, he was constrained to declare, both to +the buyer and the seller, that he believed slave-keeping inconsistent +with the Christian religion. This young man was John Woolman. The +circumstance above named was the starting-point of a life-long testimony +against slavery. In the year 1746 he visited Maryland, Virginia, and +North Carolina. He was afflicted by the prevalence of slavery. It +appeared to him, in his own words, "as a dark gloominess overhanging the +land." On his return, he wrote an essay on the subject, which was +published in 1754. Three years after, he made a second visit to the +Southern meetings of Friends. Travelling as a minister of the gospel, he +was compelled to sit down at the tables of slaveholding planters, who +were accustomed to entertain their friends free of cost, and who could +not comprehend the scruples of their guest against receiving as a gift +food and lodging which he regarded as the gain of oppression. He was a +poor man, but he loved truth more than money. He therefore either placed +the pay for his entertainment in the hands of some member of the family, +for the benefit of the slaves, or gave it directly to them, as he had +opportunity. Wherever he went, he found his fellow-professors entangled +in the mischief of slavery. Elders and ministers, as well as the younger +and less high in profession, had their house servants and field hands. +He found grave drab-coated apologists for the slave-trade, who quoted the +same Scriptures, in support of oppression and avarice, which have since +been cited by Presbyterian doctors of divinity, Methodist bishops; and +Baptist preachers for the same purpose. He found the meetings generally +in a low and evil state. The gold of original Quakerism had become dim, +and the fine gold changed. The spirit of the world prevailed among them, +and had wrought an inward desolation. Instead of meekness, gentleness, +and heavenly wisdom, he found "a spirit of fierceness and love of +dominion." + + (The tradition is that he travelled mostly on foot during his + journeys among slaveholders. Brissot, in his New Travels in + America, published in 1788, says: "John Woolman, one of the most + distinguished of men in the cause of humanity, travelled much as a + minister of his sect, but always on foot, and without money, in + imitation of the Apostles, and in order to be in a situation to be + more useful to poor people and the blacks. He hated slavery so much + that he could not taste food provided by the labor of slaves." That + this writer was on one point misinformed is manifest from the + following passage from the Journal: "When I expected soon to leave a + friend's house where I had entertainment, if I believed that I + should not keep clear from the gain of oppression without leaving + money, I spoke to one of the heads of the family privately, and + desired them to accept of pieces of silver, and give them to such of + their negroes as they believed would make the best use of them; and + at other times I gave them to the negroes myself, as the way looked + clearest to me. Before I came out, I had provided a large number of + small pieces for this purpose, and thus offering them to some who + appeared to be wealthy people was a trial both to me and them. But + the fear of the Lord so covered me at times that my way was made + easier than I expected; and few, if any, manifested any resentment + at the offer, and most of them, after some conversation, accepted of + them.") + +In love, but at the same time with great faithfulness, he endeavored to +convince the masters of their error, and to awaken a degree of sympathy +for the enslaved. + +At this period, or perhaps somewhat earlier, a remarkable personage took +up his residence in Pennsylvania. He was by birthright a member of the +Society of Friends, but having been disowned in England for some +extravagances of conduct and language, he spent several years in the West +Indies, where he became deeply interested in the condition of the slaves. +His violent denunciations of the practice of slaveholding excited the +anger of the planters, and he was compelled to leave the island. He came +to Philadelphia, but, contrary to his expectations, he found the same +evil existing there. He shook off the dust of the city, and took up his +abode in the country, a few miles distant. His dwelling was a natural +cave, with some slight addition of his own making. His drink was the +spring-water flowing by his door; his food, vegetables alone. He +persistently refused to wear any garment or eat any food purchased at the +expense of animal life, or which was in any degree the product of slave +labor. Issuing from his cave, on his mission of preaching "deliverance +to the captive," he was in the habit of visiting the various meetings for +worship and bearing his testimony against slaveholders, greatly to their +disgust and indignation. On one occasion he entered the Market Street +Meeting, and a leading Friend requested some one to take him out. A +burly blacksmith volunteered to do it, leading him to the gate and +thrusting him out with such force that he fell into the gutter of the +street. There he lay until the meeting closed, telling the bystanders +that he did not feel free to rise himself. "Let those who cast me here +raise me up. It is their business, not mine." + +His personal appearance was in remarkable keeping with his eccentric +life. A figure only four and a half feet high, hunchbacked, with +projecting chest, legs small and uneven, arms longer than his legs; a +huge head, showing only beneath the enormous white hat large, solemn eyes +and a prominent nose; the rest of his face covered with a snowy +semicircle of beard falling low on his breast,--a figure to recall the +old legends of troll, brownie, and kobold. Such was the irrepressible +prophet who troubled the Israel of slave-holding Quakerism, clinging like +a rough chestnut-bur to the skirts of its respectability, and settling +like a pertinacious gad-fly on the sore places of its conscience. + +On one occasion, while the annual meeting was in session at Burlington, +N. J., in the midst of the solemn silence of the great assembly, the +unwelcome figure of Benjamin Lay, wrapped in his long white overcoat, +was seen passing up the aisle. Stopping midway, he exclaimed, "You +slaveholders! Why don't you throw off your Quaker coats as I do mine, +and show yourselves as you are?" Casting off as he spoke his outer +garment, he disclosed to the astonished assembly a military coat +underneath and a sword dangling at his heels. Holding in one hand a +large book, he drew his sword with the other. "In the sight of God," he +cried, "you are as guilty as if you stabbed your slaves to the heart, as +I do this book!" suiting the action to the word, and piercing a small +bladder filled with the juice of poke-weed (playtolacca decandra), which +he had concealed between the covers, and sprinkling as with fresh blood +those who sat near him. John Woolman makes no mention of this +circumstance in his Journal, although he was probably present, and it +must have made a deep impression on his sensitive spirit. The violence +and harshness of Lay's testimony, however, had nothing in common with +the tender and sorrowful remonstrances and appeals of the former, except +the sympathy which they both felt for the slave himself. + + (Lay was well acquainted with Dr. Franklin, who sometimes visited him. + Among other schemes of reform he entertained the idea of converting + all mankind to Christianity. This was to be done by three + witnesses,--himself, Michael Lovell, and Abel Noble, assisted by Dr. + Franklin. But on their first meeting at the Doctor's house, the + three "chosen vessels" got into a violent controversy on points of + doctrine, and separated in ill-humor. The philosopher, who had been + an amused listener, advised the three sages to give up the project + of converting the world until they had learned to tolerate each + other.) + +Still later, a descendant of the persecuted French Protestants, Anthony +Benezet, a man of uncommon tenderness of feeling, began to write and +speak against slavery. How far, if at all, he was moved thereto by the +example of Woolman is not known, but it is certain that the latter found +in him a steady friend and coadjutor in his efforts to awaken the +slumbering moral sense of his religious brethren. The Marquis de +Chastellux, author of _De la Felicite Publique_, describes him as a +small, eager-faced man, full of zeal and activity, constantly engaged in +works of benevolence, which were by no means confined to the blacks. +Like Woolman and Lay, he advocated abstinence from intoxicating spirits. +The poor French neutrals who were brought to Philadelphia from Nova +Scotia, and landed penniless and despairing among strangers in tongue and +religion, found in him a warm and untiring friend, through whose aid and +sympathy their condition was rendered more comfortable than that of their +fellow-exiles in other colonies. + +The annual assemblage of the Yearly Meeting in 1758 at Philadelphia must +ever be regarded as one of the most important religious convocations in +the history of the Christian church. The labors of Woolman and his few +but earnest associates had not been in vain. A deep and tender interest +had been awakened; and this meeting was looked forward to with varied +feelings of solicitude by all parties. All felt that the time had come +for some definite action; conservative and reformer stood face to face in +the Valley of Decision. John Woolman, of course, was present,--a man +humble and poor in outward appearance, his simple dress of undyed +homespun cloth contrasting strongly with the plain but rich apparel of +the representatives of the commerce of the city and of the large slave- +stocked plantations of the country. Bowed down by the weight of his +concern for the poor slaves and for the well-being and purity of the +Society, he sat silent during the whole meeting, while other matters were +under discussion. "My mind," he says, "was frequently clothed with +inward prayer; and I could say with David that 'tears were my meat and +drink, day and night.' The case of slave-keeping lay heavy upon me; nor +did I find any engagement, to speak directly to any other matter before +the meeting." When the important subject came up for consideration, many +faithful Friends spoke with weight and earnestness. No one openly +justified slavery as a system, although some expressed a concern lest the +meeting should go into measures calculated to cause uneasiness to many +members of the Society. It was also urged that Friends should wait +patiently until the Lord in His own time should open a way for the +deliverance of the slave. This was replied to by John Woolman. "My +mind," he said, "is led to consider the purity of the Divine Being, and +the justice of His judgments; and herein my soul is covered with +awfulness. I cannot forbear to hint of some cases where people have not +been treated with the purity of justice, and the event has been most +lamentable. Many slaves on this continent are oppressed, and their cries +have entered into the ears of the Most High. Such are the purity and +certainty of His judgments that He cannot be partial in our favor. In +infinite love and goodness He hath opened our understandings from one +time to another, concerning our duty towards this people; and it is not a +time for delay. Should we now be sensible of what He requires of us, and +through a respect to the private interest of some persons, or through a +regard to some friendships which do not stand upon an immutable +foundation, neglect to do our duty in firmness and constancy, still +waiting for some extraordinary means to bring about their deliverance, +God may by terrible things in righteousness answer us in this matter." + +This solemn and weighty appeal was responded to by many in the assembly, +in a spirit of sympathy and unity. Some of the slave-holding members +expressed their willingness that a strict rule of discipline should be +adopted against dealing in slaves for the future. To this it was +answered that the root of the evil would never be reached effectually +until a searching inquiry was made into the circumstances and motives of +such as held slaves. At length the truth in a great measure triumphed +over all opposition; and, without any public dissent, the meeting agreed +that the injunction of our Lord and Saviour to do to others as we would +that others should do to us should induce Friends who held slaves "to set +them at liberty, making a Christian provision for them," and four +Friends--John Woolman, John Scarborough, Daniel Stanton, and John Sykes-- +were approved of as suitable persons to visit and treat with such as kept +slaves, within the limits of the meeting. + +This painful and difficult duty was faithfully performed. In that +meekness and humility of spirit which has nothing in common with the +"fear of man, which bringeth a snare," the self-denying followers of +their Divine Lord and Master "went about doing good." In the city of +Philadelphia, and among the wealthy planters of the country, they found +occasion often to exercise a great degree of patience, and to keep a +watchful guard over their feelings. In his Journal for this important +period of his life John Woolman says but little of his own services. How +arduous and delicate they were may be readily understood. The number of +slaves held by members of the Society was very large. Isaac Jackson, in +his report of his labors among slave-holders in a single Quarterly +Meeting, states that he visited the owners of more than eleven hundred +slaves. From the same report may be gleaned some hints of the +difficulties which presented themselves. One elderly man says he has +well brought up his eleven slaves, and "now they must work to maintain +him." Another owns it is all wrong, but "cannot release his slaves; his +tender wife under great concern of mind" on account of his refusal. A +third has fifty slaves; knows it to be wrong, but can't see his way clear +out of it. "Perhaps," the report says, "interest dims his vision." A +fourth is full of "excuses and reasonings." "Old Jos. Richison has +forty, and is determined to keep them." Another man has fifty, and +"means to keep them." Robert Ward "wants to release his slaves, but his +wife and daughters hold back." Another "owns it is wrong, but says he +will not part with his negroes,--no, not while he lives." The far +greater number, however, confess the wrong of slavery, and agree to take +measures for freeing their slaves. + + (An incident occurred during this visit of Isaac Jackson which + impressed him deeply. On the last evening, just as he was about to + turn homeward, he was told that a member of the Society whom he had + not seen owned a very old slave who was happy and well cared for. + It was a case which it was thought might well be left to take care + of itself. Isaac Jackson, sitting in silence, did not feel his mind + quite satisfied; and as the evening wore away, feeling more and more + exercised, he expressed his uneasiness, when a young son of his host + eagerly offered to go with him and show him the road to the place. + The proposal was gladly accepted. On introducing the object of + their visit, the Friend expressed much surprise that any uneasiness + should be felt in the case, but at length consented to sign the form + of emancipation, saying, at the same time, it would make no + difference in their relations, as the old man was perfectly happy. + At Isaac Jackson's request the slave was called in and seated before + them. His form was nearly double, his thin hands were propped on + his knees, his white head was thrust forward, and his keen, + restless, inquiring eyes gleamed alternately on the stranger and on + his master. At length he was informed of what had been done; that + he was no longer a slave, and that his master acknowledged his past + services entitled him to a maintenance so long as he lived. The old + man listened in almost breathless wonder, his head slowly sinking on + his breast. After a short pause, he clasped his hands; then + spreading them high over his hoary head, slowly and reverently + exclaimed, "Oh, goody Gody, oh!"--bringing his hands again down on + his knees. Then raising them as before, he twice repeated the + solemn exclamation, and with streaming eyes and a voice almost too + much choked for utterance, he continued, "I thought I should die a + slave, and now I shall die a free man!" + + It is a striking evidence of the divine compensations which are + sometimes graciously vouchsafed to those who have been faithful to + duty, that on his death-bed this affecting scene was vividly revived + in the mind of Isaac Jackson. At that supreme moment, when all + other pictures of time were fading out, that old face, full of + solemn joy and devout thanksgiving, rose before him, and comforted + him as with the blessing of God.) + +An extract or two from the Journal at this period will serve to show both +the nature of the service in which he was engaged and the frame of mind +in which he accomplished it:-- + +"In the beginning of the 12th month I joined in company with my friends, +John Sykes and Daniel Stanton, in visiting such as had slaves. Some, +whose hearts were rightly exercised about them, appeared to be glad of +our visit, but in some places our way was more difficult. I often saw +the necessity of keeping down to that root from whence our concern +proceeded, and have cause in reverent thankfulness humbly to bow down +before the Lord who was near to me, and preserved my mind in calmness +under some sharp conflicts, and begat a spirit of sympathy and tenderness +in me towards some who were grievously entangled by the spirit of this +world." + +"1st month, 1759.--Having found my mind drawn to visit some of the more +active members of society at Philadelphia who had slaves, I met my friend +John Churchman there by agreement, and we continued about a week in the +city. We visited some that were sick, and some widows and their +families; and the other part of the time was mostly employed in visiting +such as had slaves. It was a time of deep exercise; but looking often to +the Lord for assistance, He in unspeakable kindness favored us with the +influence of that spirit which crucifies to the greatness and splendor of +this world, and enabled us to go through some heavy labors, in which we +found peace." + +These labors were attended with the blessing of the God of the poor and +oppressed. Dealing in slaves was almost entirely abandoned, and many who +held slaves set them at liberty. But many members still continuing the +practice, a more emphatic testimony against it was issued by the Yearly +Meeting in 1774; and two years after the subordinate meetings were +directed to deny the right of membership to such as persisted in holding +their fellow-men as property. + +A concern was now felt for the temporal and religious welfare of the +emancipated slaves, and in 1779 the Yearly Meeting came to the conclusion +that some reparation was due from the masters to their former slaves for +services rendered while in the condition of slavery. The following is an +extract from an epistle on this subject: + +"We are united in judgment that the state of the oppressed people who +have been held by any of us, or our predecessors, in captivity and +slavery, calls for a deep inquiry and close examination how far we are +clear of withholding from them what under such an exercise may open to +view as their just right; and therefore we earnestly and affectionately +entreat our brethren in religious profession to bring this matter home, +and that all who have let the oppressed go free may attend to the further +openings of duty. + +"A tender Christian sympathy appears to be awakened in the minds of many +who are not in religious profession with us, who have seriously +considered the oppressions and disadvantages under which those people +have long labored; and whether a pious care extended to their offspring +is not justly due from us to them is a consideration worthy our serious +and deep attention." + +Committees to aid and advise the colored people were accordingly +appointed in the various Monthly Meetings. Many former owners of slaves +faithfully paid the latter for their services, submitting to the award +and judgment of arbitrators as to what justice required at their hands. +So deeply had the sense of the wrong of slavery sunk into the hearts of +Friends! + +John Woolman, in his Journal for 1769, states, that having some years +before, as one of the executors of a will, disposed of the services of a +negro boy belonging to the estate until he should reach the age of thirty +years, he became uneasy in respect to the transaction, and, although he +had himself derived no pecuniary benefit from it, and had simply acted as +the agent of the heirs of the estate to which the boy belonged, he +executed a bond, binding himself to pay the master of the young man for +four years and a half of his unexpired term of service. + +The appalling magnitude of the evil against which he felt himself +especially called to contend was painfully manifest to John Woolman. At +the outset, all about him, in every department of life and human +activity, in the state and the church, he saw evidences of its strength, +and of the depth and extent to which its roots had wound their way among +the foundations of society. Yet he seems never to have doubted for a +moment the power of simple truth to eradicate it, nor to have hesitated +as to his own duty in regard to it. There was no groping like Samson in +the gloom; no feeling in blind wrath and impatience for the pillars of +the temple of Dagon. "The candle of the Lord shone about him," and his +path lay clear and unmistakable before him. He believed in the goodness +of God that leadeth to repentance; and that love could reach the witness +for itself in the hearts of all men, through all entanglements of custom +and every barrier of pride and selfishness. No one could have a more +humble estimate of himself; but as he went forth on his errand of mercy +he felt the Infinite Power behind him, and the consciousness that he had +known a preparation from that Power "to stand as a trumpet through which +the Lord speaks." The event justified his confidence; wherever he went +hard hearts were softened, avarice and love of power and pride of opinion +gave way before his testimony of love. + +The New England Yearly Meeting then, as now, was held in Newport, on +Rhode Island. In the year 1760 John Woolman, in the course of a +religious visit to New England, attended that meeting. He saw the +horrible traffic in human beings,--the slave-ships lying at the wharves +of the town, the sellers and buyers of men and women and children +thronging the market-place. The same abhorrent scenes which a few years +after stirred the spirit of the excellent Hopkins to denounce the slave- +trade and slavery as hateful in the sight of God to his congregation at +Newport were enacted in the full view and hearing of the annual +convocation of Friends, many of whom were themselves partakers in the +shame and wickedness. "Understanding," he says, "that a large number of +slaves had been imported from Africa into the town, and were then on sale +by a member of our Society, my appetite failed; I grew outwardly weak, +and had a feeling of the condition of Habakkuk: 'When I heard, my belly +trembled, my lips quivered; I trembled in myself, that I might rest in +the day of trouble.' I had many cogitations, and was sorely distressed." +He prepared a memorial to the Legislature, then in session, for the +signatures of Friends, urging that body to take measures to put an end to +the importation of slaves. His labors in the Yearly Meeting appear to +have been owned and blessed by the Divine Head of the church. The London +Epistle for 1758, condemning the unrighteous traffic in men, was read, +and the substance of it embodied in the discipline of the meeting; and +the following query was adopted, to be answered by the subordinate +meetings:-- + +"Are Friends clear of importing negroes, or buying them when imported; +and do they use those well, where they are possessed by inheritance or +otherwise, endeavoring to train them up in principles of religion?" + +At the close of the Yearly Meeting, John Woolman requested those members +of the Society who held slaves to meet with him in the chamber of the +house for worship, where he expressed his concern for the well-being of +the slaves, and his sense of the iniquity of the practice of dealing in +or holding them as property. His tender exhortations were not lost upon +his auditors; his remarks were kindly received, and the gentle and loving +spirit in which they were offered reached many hearts. + +In 1769, at the suggestion of the Rhode Island Quarterly Meeting, the +Yearly Meeting expressed its sense of the wrongfulness of holding slaves, +and appointed a large committee to visit those members who were +implicated in the practice. The next year this committee reported that +they had completed their service, "and that their visits mostly seemed to +be kindly accepted. Some Friends manifested a disposition to set such at +liberty as were suitable; some others, not having so clear a sight of +such an unreasonable servitude as could be desired, were unwilling to +comply with the advice given them at present, yet seemed willing to take +it into consideration; a few others manifested a disposition to keep them +in continued bondage." + +It was stated in the Epistle to London Yearly Meeting of the year 1772, +that a few Friends had freed their slaves from bondage, but that others +"have been so reluctant thereto that they have been disowned for not +complying with the advice of this meeting." + +In 1773 the following minute was made: "It is our sense and judgment that +truth not only requires the young of capacity and ability, but likewise +the aged and impotent, and also all in a state of infancy and nonage, +among Friends, to be discharged and set free from a state of slavery, +that we do no more claim property in the human race, as we do in the +brutes that perish." + +In 1782 no slaves were known to be held in the New England Yearly +Meeting. The next year it was recommended to the subordinate meetings to +appoint committees to effect a proper and just settlement between the +manumitted slaves and their former masters, for their past services. In +1784 it was concluded by the Yearly Meeting that any former slave-holder +who refused to comply with the award of these committees should, after +due care and labor with him, be disowned from the Society. This was +effectual; settlements without disownment were made to the satisfaction +of all parties, and every case was disposed of previous to the year 1787. + +In the New York Yearly Meeting, slave-trading was prohibited about the +middle of the last century. In 1771, in consequence of an Epistle from +the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, a committee was appointed to visit those +who held slaves, and to advise with them in relation to emancipation. In +1776 it was made a disciplinary offence to buy, sell, or hold slaves upon +any condition. In 1784 but one slave was to be found in the limits of +the meeting. In the same year, by answers from the several subordinate +meetings, it was ascertained that an equitable settlement for past +services had been effected between the emancipated negroes and their +masters in all save three cases. + +In the Virginia Yearly Meeting slavery had its strongest hold. Its +members, living in the midst of slave-holding communities, were +necessarily exposed to influences adverse to emancipation. I have +already alluded to the epistle addressed to them by William Edmondson, +and to the labors of John Woolman while travelling among them. In 1757 +the Virginia Yearly Meeting condemned the foreign slave-trade. In 1764 +it enjoined upon its members the duty of kindness towards their servants, +of educating them, and carefully providing for their food and clothing. +Four years after, its members were strictly prohibited from purchasing +any more slaves. In 1773 it earnestly recommended the immediate +manumission of all slaves held in bondage, after the females had reached +eighteen and the males twenty-one years of age. At the same time it was +advised that committees should be appointed for the purpose of +instructing the emancipated persons in the principles of morality and +religion, and for advising and aiding them in their temporal concerns. + +I quote a single paragraph from the advice sent down to the subordinate +meetings, as a beautiful manifestation of the fruits of true repentance:-- + +"It is the solid sense of this meeting, that we of the present generation +are under strong obligations to express our love and concern for the +offspring of those people who by their labors have greatly contributed +towards the cultivation of these colonies under the afflictive +disadvantage of enduring a hard bondage, and the benefit of whose toil +many among us are enjoying." + +In 1784, the different Quarterly Meetings having reported that many still +held slaves, notwithstanding the advice and entreaties of their friends, +the Yearly Meeting directed that where endeavors to convince those +offenders of their error proved ineffectual, the Monthly Meetings should +proceed to disown them. We have no means of ascertaining the precise +number of those actually disowned for slave-holding in the Virginia +Yearly Meeting, but it is well known to have been very small. In almost +all cases the care and assiduous labors of those who had the welfare of +the Society and of humanity at heart were successful in inducing +offenders to manumit their slaves, and confess their error in resisting +the wishes of their friends and bringing reproach upon the cause of +truth. + +So ended slavery in the Society of Friends. For three quarters of a +century the advice put forth in the meetings of the Society at stated +intervals, that Friends should be "careful to maintain their testimony +against slavery," has been adhered to so far as owning, or even hiring, a +slave is concerned. Apart from its first-fruits of emancipation, there +is a perennial value in the example exhibited of the power of truth, +urged patiently and in earnest love, to overcome the difficulties in the +way of the eradication of an evil system, strengthened by long habit, +entangled with all the complex relations of society, and closely allied +with the love of power, the pride of family, and the lust of gain. + +The influence of the life and labors of John Woolman has by no means been +confined to the religious society of which he was a member. It may be +traced wherever a step in the direction of emancipation has been taken in +this country or in Europe. During the war of the Revolution many of the +noblemen and officers connected with the French army became, as their +journals abundantly testify, deeply interested in the Society of Friends, +and took back to France with them something of its growing anti-slavery +sentiment. Especially was this the case with Jean Pierre Brissot, the +thinker and statesman of the Girondists, whose intimacy with Warner +Mifflin, a friend and disciple of Woolman, so profoundly affected his +whole after life. He became the leader of the "Friends of the Blacks," +and carried with him to the scaffold a profound hatred, of slavery. To +his efforts may be traced the proclamation of emancipation in Hayti by +the commissioners of the French convention, and indirectly the subsequent +uprising of the blacks and their successful establishment of a free +government. The same influence reached Thomas Clarkson and stimulated +his early efforts for the abolition of the slave-trade; and in after life +the volume of the New Jersey Quaker was the cherished companion of +himself and his amiable helpmate. It was in a degree, at least, the +influence of Stephen Grellet and William Allen, men deeply imbued with +the spirit of Woolman, and upon whom it might almost be said his mantle +had fallen, that drew the attention of Alexander I. of Russia to the +importance of taking measures for the abolition of serfdom, an object the +accomplishment of which the wars during his reign prevented, but which, +left as a legacy of duty, has been peaceably effected by his namesake, +Alexander II. In the history of emancipation in our own country +evidences of the same original impulse of humanity are not wanting. In +1790 memorials against slavery from the Society of Friends were laid +before the first Congress of the United States. Not content with +clearing their own skirts of the evil, the Friends of that day took an +active part in the formation of the abolition societies of New England, +New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia. Jacob Lindley, Elisha +Tyson, Warner Mifflin, James Pemberton, and other leading Friends were +known throughout the country as unflinching champions of freedom. One of +the earliest of the class known as modern abolitionists was Benjamin +Lundy, a pupil in the school of Woolman, through whom William Lloyd +Garrison became interested in the great work to which his life has been +so faithfully and nobly devoted. Looking back to the humble workshop at +Mount Holly from the stand-point of the Proclamation of President +Lincoln, how has the seed sown in weakness been raised up in power! + +The larger portion of Woolman's writings is devoted to the subjects of +slavery, uncompensated labor, and the excessive toil and suffering of the +many to support the luxury of the few. The argument running through them +is searching, and in its conclusions uncompromising, but a tender love +for the wrong-doer as well as the sufferer underlies all. They aim to +convince the judgment and reach the heart without awakening prejudice and +passion. To the slave-holders of his time they must have seemed like the +voice of conscience speaking to them in the cool of the day. One feels, +in reading them, the tenderness and humility of a nature redeemed from +all pride of opinion and self-righteousness, sinking itself out of sight, +and intent only upon rendering smaller the sum of human sorrow and sin by +drawing men nearer to God, and to each other. The style is that of a man +unlettered, but with natural refinement and delicate sense of fitness, +the purity of whose heart enters into his language. There is no attempt +at fine writing, not a word or phrase for effect; it is the simple +unadorned diction of one to whom the temptations of the pen seem to have +been wholly unknown. He wrote, as he believed, from an inward spiritual +prompting; and with all his unaffected humility he evidently felt that +his work was done in the clear radiance of + + "The light which never was on land or sea." + +It was not for him to outrun his Guide, or, as Sir Thomas Browne +expresses it, to "order the finger of the Almighty to His will and +pleasure, but to sit still under the soft showers of Providence." Very +wise are these essays, but their wisdom is not altogether that of this +world. They lead one away from all the jealousies, strifes, and +competitions of luxury, fashion, and gain, out of the close air of +parties and sects, into a region of calmness,-- + + "The haunt + Of every gentle wind whose breath can teach + The wild to love tranquillity,"-- + +a quiet habitation where all things are ordered in what he calls "the +pure reason;" a rest from all self-seeking, and where no man's interest +or activity conflicts with that of another. Beauty they certainly have, +but it is not that which the rules of art recognize; a certain +indefinable purity pervades them, making one sensible, as he reads, of a +sweetness as of violets. "The secret of Woolman's purity of style," said +Dr. Channing, "is that his eye was single, and that conscience dictated +his words." + +Of course we are not to look to the writings of such a man for tricks of +rhetoric, the free play of imagination, or the unscrupulousness of +epigram and antithesis. He wrote as he lived, conscious of "the great +Task-master's eye." With the wise heathen Marcus Aurelius Antoninus he +had learned to "wipe out imaginations, to check desire, and let the +spirit that is the gift of God to every man, as his guardian and guide, +bear rule." + +I have thought it inexpedient to swell the bulk of this volume with the +entire writings appended to the old edition of the Journal, inasmuch as +they mainly refer to a system which happily on this continent is no +longer a question at issue. I content myself with throwing together a +few passages from them which touch subjects of present interest. + +"Selfish men may possess the earth: it is the meek alone who inherit it +from the Heavenly Father free from all defilements and perplexities of +unrighteousness." + +"Whoever rightly advocates the cause of some thereby promotes the good of +the whole." + +"If one suffer by the unfaithfulness of another, the mind, the most noble +part of him that occasions the discord, is thereby alienated from its +true happiness." + +"There is harmony in the several parts of the Divine work in the hearts +of men. He who leads them to cease from those gainful employments which +are carried on in the wisdom which is from beneath delivers also from the +desire of worldly greatness, and reconciles to a life so plain that a +little suffices." + +"After days and nights of drought, when the sky hath grown dark, and +clouds like lakes of water have hung over our heads, I have at times +beheld with awfulness the vehement lightning accompanying the blessings +of the rain, a messenger from Him to remind us of our duty in a right use +of His benefits." + +"The marks of famine in a land appear as humbling admonitions from God, +instructing us by gentle chastisements, that we may remember that the +outward supply of life is a gift from our Heavenly Father, and that we +should not venture to use or apply that gift in a way contrary to pure +reason." + +"Oppression in the extreme appears terrible; but oppression in more +refined appearances remains to be oppression. To labor for a perfect +redemption from the spirit of it is the great business of the whole +family of Jesus Christ in this world." + +"In the obedience of faith we die to self-love, and, our life being 'hid +with Christ in God,' our hearts are enlarged towards mankind universally; +but many in striving to get treasures have departed from this true light +of life and stumbled on the dark mountains. That purity of life which +proceeds from faithfulness in following the pure spirit of truth, that +state in which our minds are devoted to serve God and all our wants are +bounded by His wisdom, has often been opened to me as a place of +retirement for the children of the light, in which we may be separated +from that which disordereth and confuseth the affairs of society, and may +have a testimony for our innocence in the hearts of those who behold us." + +"There is a principle which is pure, placed in the human mind, which in +different places and ages bath had different names; it is, however, pure, +and proceeds from God. It is deep and inward, confined to no forms of +religion nor excluded from any, when the heart stands in perfect +sincerity. In whomsoever this takes root and grows, they become +brethren." + +"The necessity of an inward stillness hath appeared clear to my mind. In +true silence strength is renewed, and the mind is weaned from all things, +save as they may be enjoyed in the Divine will; and a lowliness in +outward living, opposite to worldly honor, becomes truly acceptable to +us. In the desire after outward gain the mind is prevented from a +perfect attention to the voice of Christ; yet being weaned from all +things, except as they may be enjoyed in the Divine will, the pure light +shines into the soul. Where the fruits of the spirit which is of this +world are brought forth by many who profess to be led by the Spirit of +truth, and cloudiness is felt to be gathering over the visible church, +the sincere in heart, who abide in true stillness, and are exercised +therein before the Lord for His name's sake, have knowledge of Christ in +the fellowship of His sufferings; and inward thankfulness is felt at +times, that through Divine love our own wisdom is cast out, and that +forward, active part in us is subjected, which would rise and do +something without the pure leadings of the spirit of Christ. + +"While aught remains in us contrary to a perfect resignation of our +wills, it is like a seal to the book wherein is written 'that good and +acceptable and perfect will of God' concerning us. But when our minds +entirely yield to Christ, that silence is known which followeth the +opening of the last of the seals. In this silence we learn to abide in +the Divine will, and there feel that we have no cause to promote except +that alone in which the light of life directs us." + +Occasionally, in Considerations on the Keeping of? Negroes, the intense +interest of his subject gives his language something of passionate +elevation, as in the following extract:-- + +"When trade is carried on productive of much misery, and they who suffer +by it are many thousand miles off, the danger is the greater of not +laying their sufferings to heart. In procuring slaves on the coast of +Africa, many children are stolen privately; wars are encouraged among the +negroes, but all is at a great distance. Many groans arise from dying +men which we hear not. Many cries are uttered by widows and fatherless +children which reach not our ears. Many cheeks are wet with tears, and +faces sad with unutterable grief, which we see not. Cruel tyranny is +encouraged. The hands of robbers are strengthened. + +"Were we, for the term of one year only, to be eye-witnesses of what +passeth in getting these slaves; were the blood that is there shed to be +sprinkled on our garments; were the poor captives, bound with thongs, and +heavily laden with elephants' teeth, to pass before our eyes on their way +to the sea; were their bitter lamentations, day after day, to ring in our +ears, and their mournful cries in the night to hinder us from sleeping,-- +were we to behold and hear these things, what pious heart would not be +deeply affected with sorrow!" + +"It is good for those who live in fulness to cultivate tenderness of +heart, and to improve every opportunity of being acquainted with the +hardships and fatigues of those who labor for their living, and thus to +think seriously with themselves: Am I influenced by true charity in +fixing all my demands? Have I no desire to support myself in expensive +customs, because my acquaintances live in such customs? + +"If a wealthy man, on serious reflection, finds a witness in his own +conscience that he indulges himself in some expensive habits, which might +be omitted, consistently with the true design of living, and which, were +he to change places with those who occupy his estate, he would desire to +be discontinued by them,--whoever is thus awakened will necessarily find +the injunction binding, 'Do ye even so to them.' Divine Love imposeth no +rigorous or unreasonable commands, but graciously points out the spirit +of brotherhood and the way to happiness, in attaining which it is +necessary that we relinquish all that is selfish. + +"Our gracious Creator cares and provides for all His creatures; His +tender mercies are over all His works, and so far as true love influences +our minds, so far we become interested in His workmanship, and feel a +desire to make use of every opportunity to lessen the distresses of the +afflicted, and to increase the happiness of the creation. Here we have a +prospect of one common interest from which our own is inseparable, so +that to turn all we possess into the channel of universal love becomes +the business of our lives." + +His liberality and freedom from "all narrowness as to sects and opinions" +are manifest in the following passages:-- + +"Men who sincerely apply their minds to true virtue, and find an inward +support from above, by which all vicious inclinations are made subject; +who love God sincerely, and prefer the real good of mankind universally +to their own private interest,--though these, through the strength of +education and tradition, may remain under some great speculative errors, +it would be uncharitable to say that therefore God rejects them. The +knowledge and goodness of Him who creates, supports, and gives +understanding to all men are superior to the various states and +circumstances of His creatures, which to us appear the most difficult. +Idolatry indeed is wickedness; but it is the thing, not the name, which +is so. Real idolatry is to pay that adoration to a creature which is +known to be due only to the true God. + +"He who professeth to believe in one Almighty Creator, and in His Son +Jesus Christ, and is yet more intent on the honors, profits, and +friendships of the world than he is, in singleness of heart, to stand +faithful to the Christian religion, is in the channel of idolatry; while +the Gentile, who, notwithstanding some mistaken opinions, is established +in the true principle of virtue, and humbly adores an Almighty Power, may +be of the number that fear God and work righteousness." + +Nowhere has what is called the "Labor Question," which is now agitating +the world, been discussed more wisely and with a broader humanity than in +these essays. His sympathies were with the poor man, yet the rich too +are his brethren, and he warns them in love and pity of the consequences +of luxury and oppression:-- + +"Every degree of luxury, every demand for money inconsistent with the +Divine order, hath connection with unnecessary labors." + +"To treasure up wealth for another generation, by means of the immoderate +labor of those who in some measure depend upon us, is doing evil at +present, without knowing that wealth thus gathered may not be applied to +evil purposes when we are gone. To labor hard, or cause others to do so, +that we may live conformably to customs which our Redeemer +discountenanced by His example, and which are contrary to Divine order, +is to manure a soil for propagating an evil seed in the earth." + +"When house is joined to house, and field laid to field, until there is +no place, and the poor are thereby straitened, though this is done by +bargain and purchase, yet so far as it stands distinguished from +universal love, so far that woe predicted by the prophet will accompany +their proceedings. As He who first founded the earth was then the true +proprietor of it, so He still remains, and though He hath given it to the +children of men, so that multitudes of people have had their sustenance +from it while they continued here, yet He bath never alienated it, but +His right is as good as at first; nor can any apply the increase of their +possessions contrary to universal love, nor dispose of lands in a way +which they know tends to exalt some by oppressing others, without being +justly chargeable with usurpation." + +It will not lessen the value of the foregoing extracts in the minds of +the true-disciples of our Divine Lord, that they are manifestly not +written to subserve the interests of a narrow sectarianism. They might +have been penned by Fenelon in his time, or Robertson in ours, dealing as +they do with Christian practice,--the life of Christ manifesting itself +in purity and goodness,--rather than with the dogmas of theology. The +underlying thought of all is simple obedience to the Divine word in the +soul. "Not every one that saith unto me Lord, Lord, shall enter into the +kingdom of heaven, but he that doeth the will of my Father in heaven." +In the preface to an English edition, published some years ago, it is +intimated that objections had been raised to the Journal on the ground +that it had so little to say of doctrines and so much of duties. One may +easily understand that this objection might have been forcibly felt by +the slave-holding religious professors of Woolman's day, and that it may +still be entertained by a class of persons who, like the Cabalists, +attach a certain mystical significance to words, names, and titles, and +who in consequence question the piety which hesitates to flatter the +Divine ear by "vain repetitions" and formal enumeration of sacred +attributes, dignities, and offices. Every instinct of his tenderly +sensitive nature shrank from the wordy irreverence of noisy profession. +His very silence is significant: the husks of emptiness rustle in every +wind; the full corn in the ear holds up its golden fruit noiselessly to +the Lord of the harvest. John Woolman's faith, like the Apostle's, is +manifested by his labors, standing not in words but in the demonstration +of the spirit,--a faith that works by love to the purifying of the heart. +The entire outcome of this faith was love manifested in reverent waiting +upon God, and in that untiring benevolence, that quiet but deep +enthusiasm of humanity, which made his daily service to his fellow- +creatures a hymn of praise to the common Father. + +However the intellect may criticise such a life, whatever defects it may +present to the trained eyes of theological adepts, the heart has no +questions to ask, but at once owns and reveres it. Shall we regret that +he who had so entered into fellowship of suffering with the Divine One, +walking with Him under the cross, and dying daily to self, gave to the +faith and hope that were in him this testimony of a life, rather than any +form of words, however sound? A true life is at once interpreter and +proof of the gospel, and does more to establish its truth in the hearts +of men than all the "Evidences" and "Bodies of Divinity" which have +perplexed the world with more doubts than they solved. Shall we venture +to account it a defect in his Christian character, that, under an abiding +sense of the goodness and long-suffering of God, he wrought his work in +gentleness and compassion, with the delicate tenderness which comes of a +deep sympathy with the trials and weaknesses of our nature, never +allowing himself to indulge in heat or violence, persuading rather than +threatening? Did he overestimate that immeasurable Love, the +manifestation of which in his own heart so reached the hearts of others, +revealing everywhere unsuspected fountains of feeling and secret longings +after purity, as the rod of the diviner detects sweet, cool water-springs +under the parched surfaces of a thirsty land? And, looking at the +purity, wisdom, and sweetness of his life, who shall say that his faith +in the teaching of the Holy Spirit--the interior guide and light--was a +mistaken one? Surely it was no illusion by which his feet were so guided +that all who saw him felt that, like Enoch, he walked with God. "Without +the actual inspiration of the Spirit of Grace, the inward teacher and +soul of our souls," says Fenelon, "we could neither do, will, nor believe +good. We must silence every creature, we must silence ourselves also, to +hear in a profound stillness of the soul this inexpressible voice of +Christ. The outward word of the gospel itself without this living +efficacious word within would be but an empty sound." "Thou Lord," says +Augustine in his Meditations, "communicatest thyself to all: thou +teachest the heart without words; thou speakest to it without articulate +sounds." + + "However, I am sure that there is a common spirit that plays within + us, and that is the Spirit of God. Whoever feels not the warm gale + and gentle ventilation of this Spirit, I dare not say he lives; for + truly without this to me there is no heat under the tropic, nor any + light though I dwelt in the body of the sun."--Sir Thomas Browne's + Religio Medici. + +Never was this divine principle more fully tested than by John Wool man; +and the result is seen in a life of such rare excellence that the world +is still better and richer for its sake, and the fragrance of it comes +down to us through a century, still sweet and precious. + +It will be noted throughout the Journal and essays that in his lifelong +testimony against wrong he never lost sight of the oneness of humanity, +its common responsibility, its fellowship of suffering and communion of +sin. Few have ever had so profound a conviction of the truth of the +Apostle's declaration that no man liveth and no man dieth to himself. +Sin was not to him an isolated fact, the responsibility of which began +and ended with the individual transgressor; he saw it as a part of a vast +network and entanglement, and traced the lines of influence converging +upon it in the underworld of causation. Hence the wrong and discord +which pained him called out pity, rather than indignation. The first +inquiry which they awakened was addressed to his own conscience. How far +am I in thought, word, custom, responsible for this? Have none of my +fellow-creatures an equitable right to any part which is called mine? +Have the gifts and possessions received by me from others been conveyed +in a way free from all unrighteousness? "Through abiding in the law of +Christ," he says, "we feel a tenderness towards our fellow-creatures, and +a concern so to walk that our conduct may not be the means of +strengthening them in error." He constantly recurs to the importance of +a right example in those who profess to be led by the spirit of Christ, +and who attempt to labor in His name for the benefit of their fellow-men. +If such neglect or refuse themselves to act rightly, they can but +"entangle the minds of others and draw a veil over the face of +righteousness." His eyes were anointed to see the common point of +departure from the Divine harmony, and that all the varied growths of +evil had their underlying root in human selfishness. He saw that every +sin of the individual was shared in greater or less degree by all whose +lives were opposed to the Divine order, and that pride, luxury, and +avarice in one class gave motive and temptation to the grosser forms of +evil in another. How gentle, and yet how searching, are his rebukes of +self-complacent respectability, holding it responsible, in spite of all +its decent seemings, for much of the depravity which it condemned with +Pharisaical harshness! In his Considerations on the True Harmony of +Mankind be dwells with great earnestness upon the importance of +possessing "the mind of Christ," which removes from the heart the desire +of superiority and worldly honors, incites attention to the Divine +Counsellor, and awakens an ardent engagement to promote the happiness of +all. "This state," he says, "in which every motion from the selfish +spirit yieldeth to pure love, I may acknowledge with gratitude to the +Father of Mercies, is often opened before me as a pearl to seek after." + +At times when I have felt true love open my heart towards my fellow- +creatures, and have been engaged in weighty conversation in the cause of +righteousness, the instructions I have received under these exercises in +regard to the true use of the outward gifts of God have made deep and +lasting impressions on my mind. I have beheld how the desire to provide +wealth and to uphold a delicate life has greviously entangled many, and +has been like a snare to their offspring; and though some have been +affected with a sense of their difficulties, and have appeared desirous +at times to be helped out of them, yet for want of abiding under the +humbling power of truth they have continued in these entanglements; +expensive living in parents and children hath called for a large supply, +and in answering this call the 'faces of the poor' have been ground away, +and made thin through hard dealing. + +"There is balm; there is a physician! and oh what longings do I feel that +we may embrace the means appointed for our healing; may know that removed +which now ministers cause for the cries of many to ascend to Heaven +against their oppressors; and that thus we may see the true harmony +restored!--a restoration of that which was lost at Babel, and which will +be, as the prophet expresses it, 'the returning of a pure language!'" + +It is easy to conceive how unwelcome this clear spiritual insight must +have been to the superficial professors of his time busy in tithing mint, +anise, and cummin. There must have been something awful in the presence +of one endowed with the gift of looking through all the forms, shows, and +pretensions of society, and detecting with certainty the germs of evil +hidden beneath them; a man gentle and full of compassion, clothed in "the +irresistible might of meekness," and yet so wise in spiritual +discernment, + + "Bearing a touchstone in his hand + And testing all things in the land + By his unerring spell. + + "Quick births of transmutation smote + The fair to foul, the foul to fair; + Purple nor ermine did he spare, + Nor scorn the dusty coat." + +In bringing to a close this paper, the preparation of which has been to +me a labor of love, I am not unmindful of the wide difference between the +appreciation of a pure and true life and the living of it, and am willing +to own that in delineating a character of such moral and spiritual +symmetry I have felt something like rebuke from my own words. I have +been awed and solemnized by the presence of a serene and beautiful spirit +redeemed of the Lord from all selfishness, and I have been made thankful +for the ability to recognize and the disposition to love him. I leave +the book with its readers. They may possibly make large deductions from +my estimate of the author; they may not see the importance of all his +self-denying testimonies; they may question some of his scruples, and +smile over passages of childlike simplicity; but I believe they will all +agree in thanking me for introducing them to the Journal of John Woolman. + +AMESBURY, 20th 1st mo.,1871. + + + + +HAVERFORD COLLEGE. + + Letter to President Thomas Chase, LL. D. + + AMESBURY, MASS., 9th mo., 1884. + +THE Semi-Centennial of Haverford College is an event that no member of +the Society of Friends can regard without deep interest. It would give +me great pleasure to be with you on the 27th inst., but the years rest +heavily upon me, and I have scarcely health or strength for such a +journey. + +It was my privilege to visit Haverford in 1838, in "the day of small +beginnings." The promise of usefulness which it then gave has been more +than fulfilled. It has grown to be a great and well-established +institution, and its influence in thorough education and moral training +has been widely felt. If the high educational standard presented in the +scholastic treatise of Barclay and the moral philosophy of Dymond has +been lowered or disowned by many who, still retaining the name of +Quakerism, have lost faith in the vital principle wherein precious +testimonials of practical righteousness have their root, and have gone +back to a dead literalness, and to those materialistic ceremonials for +leaving which our old confessors suffered bonds and death, Haverford, at +least, has been in a good degree faithful to the trust committed to it. + +Under circumstances of more than ordinary difficulty, it has endeavored +to maintain the Great Testimony. The spirit of its culture has not been +a narrow one, nor could it be, if true to the broad and catholic +principles of the eminent worthies who founded the State of +Pennsylvania, Penn, Lloyd, Pastorius, Logan, and Story; men who were +masters of the scientific knowledge and culture of their age, hospitable +to all truth, and open to all light, and who in some instances +anticipated the result of modern research and critical inquiry. + +It was Thomas Story, a minister of the Society of Friends, and member of +Penn's Council of State, who, while on a religious visit to England, +wrote to James Logan that he had read on the stratified rocks of +Scarborough, as from the finger of God, proofs of the immeasurable age +of our planet, and that the "days" of the letter of Scripture could +only mean vast spaces of time. + +May Haverford emulate the example of these brave but reverent men, who, +in investigating nature, never lost sight of the Divine Ideal, and who, +to use the words of Fenelon, "Silenced themselves to hear in the +stillness of their souls the inexpressible voice of Christ." Holding +fast the mighty truth of the Divine Immanence, the Inward Light and +Word, a Quaker college can have no occasion to renew the disastrous +quarrel of religion with science. Against the sublime faith which shall +yet dominate the world, skepticism has no power. No possible +investigation of natural facts; no searching criticism of letter and +tradition can disturb it, for it has its witness in all human hearts. + +That Haverford may fully realize and improve its great opportunities as +an approved seat of learning and the exponent of a Christian philosophy +which can never be superseded, which needs no change to fit it for +universal acceptance, and which, overpassing the narrow limits of sect, +is giving new life and hope to Christendom, and finding its witnesses in +the Hindu revivals of the Brahmo Somaj and the fervent utterances of +Chunda Sen and Mozoomdar, is the earnest desire of thy friend. + + + + +CRITICISM: EVANGELINE + + A review of Mr. Longfellow's poem. + +EUREKA! Here, then, we have it at last,--an American poem, with the lack +of which British reviewers have so long reproached us. Selecting the +subject of all others best calculated for his purpose,--the expulsion of +the French settlers of Acadie from their quiet and pleasant homes around +the Basin of Minas, one of the most sadly romantic passages in the +history of the Colonies of the North,--the author has succeeded in +presenting a series of exquisite pictures of the striking and peculiar +features of life and nature in the New World. The range of these +delineations extends from Nova Scotia on the northeast to the spurs of +the Rocky Mountains on the west and the Gulf of Mexico on the south. +Nothing can be added to his pictures of quiet farm-life in Acadie, the +Indian summer of our northern latitudes, the scenery of the Ohio and +Mississippi Rivers, the bayous and cypress forests of the South, the +mocking-bird, the prairie, the Ozark hills, the Catholic missions, and +the wild Arabs of the West, roaming with the buffalo along the banks of +the Nebraska. The hexameter measure he has chosen has the advantage of a +prosaic freedom of expression, exceedingly well adapted to a descriptive +and narrative poem; yet we are constrained to think that the story of +Evangeline would have been quite as acceptable to the public taste had it +been told in the poetic prose of the author's Hyperion. + +In reading it and admiring its strange melody we were not without fears +that the success of Professor Longfellow in this novel experiment might +prove the occasion of calling out a host of awkward imitators, leading us +over weary wastes of hexameters, enlivened neither by dew, rain, nor +fields of offering. + +Apart from its Americanism, the poem has merits of a higher and universal +character. It is not merely a work of art; the pulse of humanity throbs +warmly through it. The portraits of Basil the blacksmith, the old +notary, Benedict Bellefontaine, and good Father Felician, fairly glow +with life. The beautiful Evangeline, loving and faithful unto death, is +a heroine worthy of any poet of the present century. + +The editor of the Boston Chronotype, in the course of an appreciative +review of this poem, urges with some force a single objection, which we +are induced to notice, as it is one not unlikely to present itself to the +minds of other readers:-- + +"We think Mr. Longfellow ought to have expressed a much deeper +indignation at the base, knavish, and heartless conduct of the English +and Colonial persecutors than he has done. He should have put far bolder +and deeper tints in the picture of suffering. One great, if not the +greatest, end of poetry is rhadamanthine justice. The poet should mete +out their deserts to all his heroes; honor to whom honor, and infamy to +whom infamy, is due. + +"It is true that the wrong in this case is in a great degree fathered +upon our own Massachusetts; and it maybe said that it is afoul bird that +pollutes its own nest. We deny the applicability of the rather musty +proverb. All the worse. Of not a more contemptible vice is what is +called American literature guilty than this of unmitigated self- +laudation. If we persevere in it, the stock will become altogether too +small for the business. It seems that no period of our history has been +exempt from materials for patriotic humiliation and national self- +reproach; and surely the present epoch is laying in a large store of that +sort. Had our poets always told us the truth of ourselves, perhaps it +would now be otherwise. National self-flattery and concealment of faults +must of course have their natural results." + +We must confess that we read the first part of Evangeline with something +of the feeling so forcibly expressed by Professor Wright. The natural +and honest indignation with which, many years ago, we read for the first +time that dark page of our Colonial history--the expulsion of the French +neutrals--was reawakened by the simple pathos of the poem; and we longed +to find an adequate expression of it in the burning language of the poet. +We marvelled that he who could so touch the heart by his description of +the sad suffering of the Acadian peasants should have permitted the +authors of that suffering to escape without censure. The outburst of the +stout Basil, in the church of Grand Pre, was, we are fain to acknowledge, +a great relief to us. But, before reaching the close of the volume, we +were quite reconciled to the author's forbearance. The design of the +poem is manifestly incompatible with stern "rhadamanthine justice" and +indignant denunciation of wrong. It is a simple story of quiet pastoral +happiness, of great sorrow and painful bereavement, and of the endurance +of a love which, hoping and seeking always, wanders evermore up and down +the wilderness of the world, baffled at every turn, yet still retaining +faith in God and in the object of its lifelong quest. It was no part of +the writer's object to investigate the merits of the question at issue +between the poor Acadians and their Puritan neighbors. Looking at the +materials before him with the eye of an artist simply, he has arranged +them to suit his idea of the beautiful and pathetic, leaving to some +future historian the duty of sitting in judgment upon the actors in the +atrocious outrage which furnished them. With this we are content. The +poem now has unity and sweetness which might have been destroyed by +attempting to avenge the wrongs it so vividly depicts. It is a psalm of +love and forgiveness: the gentleness and peace of Christian meekness and +forbearance breathe through it. Not a word of censure is directly +applied to the marauding workers of the mighty sorrow which it describes +just as it would a calamity from the elements,--a visitation of God. The +reader, however, cannot fail to award justice to the wrong-doers. The +unresisting acquiescence of the Acadians only deepens his detestation of +the cupidity and religious bigotry of their spoilers. Even in the +language of the good Father Felician, beseeching his flock to submit to +the strong hand which had been laid upon them, we see and feel the +magnitude of the crime to be forgiven:-- + + "Lo, where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon you! + See in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy compassion! + Hark! how those lips still repeat the prayer, O Father, forgive + them! + Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail us; + Let us repeat it now, and say, O Father, forgive them!" + +How does this simple prayer of the Acadians contrast with the "deep +damnation of their taking off!" + +The true history of the Puritans of New England is yet to be written. +Somewhere midway between the caricatures of the Church party and the +self-laudations of their own writers the point may doubtless be found +from whence an impartial estimate of their character may be formed. They +had noble qualities: the firmness and energy which they displayed in the +colonization of New England must always command admiration. We would not +rob them, were it in our power to do so, of one jot or tittle of their +rightful honor. But, with all the lights which we at present possess, we +cannot allow their claim of saintship without some degree of +qualification. How they seemed to their Dutch neighbors at New +Netherlands, and their French ones at Nova Scotia, and to the poor +Indians, hunted from their fisheries and game-grounds, we can very well +conjecture. It may be safely taken for granted that their gospel claim +to the inheritance of the earth was not a little questionable to the +Catholic fleeing for his life from their jurisdiction, to the banished +Baptist shaking off the dust of his feet against them, and to the +martyred Quaker denouncing woe and judgment upon them from the steps of +the gallows. Most of them were, beyond a doubt, pious and sincere; but +we are constrained to believe that among them were those who wore the +livery of heaven from purely selfish motives, in a community where +church-membership was an indispensable requisite, the only open sesame +before which the doors of honor and distinction swung wide to needy or +ambitious aspirants. Mere adventurers, men of desperate fortunes, +bankrupts in character and purse, contrived to make gain of godliness +under the church and state government of New England, put on the austere +exterior of sanctity, quoted Scripture, anathematized heretics, whipped +Quakers, exterminated Indians, burned and spoiled the villages of their +Catholic neighbors, and hewed down their graven images and "houses of +Rimmon." It is curious to observe how a fierce religious zeal against +heathen and idolaters went hand in hand with the old Anglo-Saxon love of +land and plunder. Every crusade undertaken against the Papists of the +French colonies had its Puritan Peter the Hermit to summon the saints to +the wars of the Lord. At the siege of Louisburg, ten years before the +onslaught upon the Acadian settlers, one minister marched with the +Colonial troops, axe in hand, to hew down the images in the French +churches; while another officiated in the double capacity of drummer and +chaplain,--a "drum ecclesiastic," as Hudibras has it. + +At the late celebration of the landing of the Pilgrims in New York, the +orator of the day labored at great length to show that the charge of +intolerance, as urged against the colonists of New England, is unfounded +in fact. The banishment of the Catholics was very sagaciously passed +over in silence, inasmuch as the Catholic Bishop of New York was one of +the invited guests, and (hear it, shade of Cotton Mather!) one of the +regular toasts was a compliment to the Pope. The expulsion of Roger +Williams was excused and partially justified; while the whipping, ear- +cropping, tongue-boring, and hanging of the Quakers was defended, as the +only effectual method of dealing with such devil-driven heretics, as +Mather calls them. The orator, in the new-born zeal of his amateur +Puritanism, stigmatizes the persecuted class as "fanatics and ranters, +foaming forth their mad opinions;" compares them to the Mormons and the +crazy followers of Mathias; and cites an instance of a poor enthusiast, +named Eccles, who, far gone in the "tailor's melancholy," took it into +his head that he must enter into a steeple-house pulpit and stitch +breeches "in singing time,"--a circumstance, by the way, which took place +in Old England,--as a justification of the atrocious laws of the +Massachusetts Colony. We have not the slightest disposition to deny the +fanaticism and folly of some few professed Quakers in that day; and had +the Puritans treated them as the Pope did one of their number whom he +found crazily holding forth in the church of St. Peter, and consigned +them to the care of physicians as religious monomaniacs, no sane man +could have blamed them. Every sect, in its origin, and especially in its +time of persecution, has had its fanatics. The early Christians, if we +may credit the admissions of their own writers or attach the slightest +credence to the statements of pagan authors, were by no means exempt from +reproach and scandal in this respect. Were the Puritans themselves the +men to cast stones at the Quakers and Baptists? Had they not, in the +view at least of the Established Church, turned all England upside down +with their fanaticisms and extravagances of doctrine and conduct? How +look they as depicted in the sermons of Dr. South, in the sarcastic pages +of Hudibras, and the coarse caricatures of the clerical wits of the times +of the second Charles? With their own backs scored and their ears +cropped for the crime of denying the divine authority of church and state +in England, were they the men to whip Baptists and hang Quakers for doing +the same thing in Massachusetts? + +Of all that is noble and true in the Puritan character we are sincere +admirers. The generous and self-denying apostleship of Eliot is, of +itself, a beautiful page in their history. The physical daring and +hardihood with which, amidst the times of savage warfare, they laid the +foundations of mighty states, and subdued the rugged soil, and made the +wilderness blossom; their steadfast adherence to their religious +principles, even when the Restoration had made apostasy easy and +profitable; and the vigilance and firmness with which, under all +circumstances, they held fast their chartered liberties and extorted new +rights and privileges from the reluctant home government,--justly entitle +them to the grateful remembrance of a generation now reaping the fruits +of their toils and sacrifices. But, in expressing our gratitude to the +founders of New England, we should not forget what is due to truth and +justice; nor, for the sake of vindicating them from the charge of that +religious intolerance which, at the time, they shared with nearly all +Christendom, undertake to defend, in the light of the nineteenth century, +opinions and practices hostile to the benignant spirit of the gospel and +subversive of the inherent rights of man. + + + + +MIRTH AND MEDICINE + + A review of Poems by Oliver Wendell Holmes. + +IF any of our readers (and at times we fear it is the case with all) need +amusement and the wholesome alterative of a hearty laugh, we commend +them, not to Dr. Holmes the physician, but to Dr. Holmes the scholar, the +wit, and the humorist; not to the scientific medical professor's +barbarous Latin, but to his poetical prescriptions, given in choice old +Saxon. We have tried them, and are ready to give the Doctor certificates +of their efficacy. + +Looking at the matter from the point of theory only, we should say that a +physician could not be otherwise than melancholy. A merry doctor! Why, +one might as well talk of a laughing death's-head,--the cachinnation of a +monk's _memento mori_. This life of ours is sorrowful enough at its best +estate; the brightest phase of it is "sicklied o'er with the pale cast" +of the future or the past. But it is the special vocation of the doctor +to look only upon the shadow; to turn away from the house of feasting and +go down to that of mourning; to breathe day after day the atmosphere of +wretchedness; to grow familiar with suffering; to look upon humanity +disrobed of its pride and glory, robbed of all its fictitious ornaments, +--weak, helpless, naked,--and undergoing the last fearful metempsychosis +from its erect and godlike image, the living temple of an enshrined +divinity, to the loathsome clod and the inanimate dust. Of what ghastly +secrets of moral and physical disease is he the depositary! There is woe +before him and behind him; he is hand and glove with misery by +prescription,--the ex officio gauger of the ills that flesh is heir to. +He has no home, unless it be at the bedside of the querulous, the +splenetic, the sick, and the dying. He sits down to carve his turkey, +and is summoned off to a post-mortem examination of another sort. All +the diseases which Milton's imagination embodied in the lazar-house dog +his footsteps and pluck at his doorbell. Hurrying from one place to +another at their beck, he knows nothing of the quiet comfort of the +"sleek-headed men who sleep o' nights." His wife, if he has one, has an +undoubted right to advertise him as a deserter of "bed and board." His +ideas of beauty, the imaginations of his brain, and the affections of his +heart are regulated and modified by the irrepressible associations of his +luckless profession. Woman as well as man is to him of the earth, +earthy. He sees incipient disease where the uninitiated see only +delicacy. A smile reminds him of his dental operations; a blushing cheek +of his hectic patients; pensive melancholy is dyspepsia; sentimentalism, +nervousness. Tell him of lovelorn hearts, of the "worm I' the bud," of +the mental impalement upon Cupid's arrow, like that of a giaour upon the +spear of a janizary, and he can only think of lack of exercise, of +tightlacing, and slippers in winter. Sheridan seems to have understood +all this, if we may judge from the lament of his Doctor, in St. +Patrick's Day, over his deceased helpmate. "Poor dear Dolly," says he. +"I shall never see her like again; such an arm for a bandage! veins that +seemed to invite the lancet! Then her skin,--smooth and white as a +gallipot; her mouth as round and not larger than that of a penny vial; +and her teeth,--none of your sturdy fixtures,--ache as they would, it was +only a small pull, and out they came. I believe I have drawn half a +score of her dear pearls. (Weeps.) But what avails her beauty? She has +gone, and left no little babe to hang like a label on papa's neck!" + +So much for speculation and theory. In practice it is not so bad after +all. The grave-digger in Hamlet has his jokes and grim jests. We have +known many a jovial sexton; and we have heard clergymen laugh heartily at +small provocation close on the heel of a cool calculation that the great +majority of their fellow-creatures were certain of going straight to +perdition. Why, then, should not even the doctor have his fun? Nay, is +it not his duty to be merry, by main force if necessary? Solomon, who, +from his great knowledge of herbs, must have been no mean practitioner +for his day, tells us that "a merry heart doeth good like a medicine;" +and universal experience has confirmed the truth of his maxim. Hence it +is, doubtless, that we have so many anecdotes of facetious doctors, +distributing their pills and jokes together, shaking at the same time the +contents of their vials and the sides of their patients. It is merely +professional, a trick of the practice, unquestionably, in most cases; but +sometimes it is a "natural gift," like that of the "bonesetters," and +"scrofula strokers," and "cancer curers," who carry on a sort of guerilla +war with human maladies. Such we know to be the case with Dr. Holmes. +He was born for the "laughter cure," as certainly as Priessnitz was for +the "water cure," and has been quite as successful in his way, while his +prescriptions are infinitely more agreeable. + +The volume now before us gives, in addition to the poems and lyrics +contained in the two previous editions, some hundred or more pages of the +later productions of the author, in the sprightly vein, and marked by the +brilliant fancy and felicitous diction for which the former were +noteworthy. His longest and most elaborate poem, _Urania_, is perhaps +the best specimen of his powers. Its general tone is playful and +humorous; but there are passages of great tenderness and pathos. Witness +the following, from a description of the city churchgoers. The whole +compass of our literature has few passages to equal its melody and +beauty. + + "Down the chill street, which winds in gloomiest shade, + What marks betray yon solitary maid? + The cheek's red rose, that speaks of balmier air, + The Celtic blackness of her braided hair; + The gilded missal in her kerchief tied; + Poor Nora, exile from Killarney's side! + Sister in toil, though born of colder skies, + That left their azure in her downcast eyes, + See pallid Margaret, Labor's patient child, + Scarce weaned from home, a nursling of the wild, + Where white Katahdin o'er the horizon shines, + And broad Penobscot dashes through the pines; + Still, as she hastes, her careful fingers hold + The unfailing hymn-book in its cambric fold: + Six days at Drudgery's heavy wheel she stands, + The seventh sweet morning folds her weary hands. + Yes, child of suffering, thou mayst well be sure + He who ordained the Sabbath loved the poor." + +This is but one of many passages, showing that the author is capable of +moving the heart as well as of tickling the fancy. There is no straining +for effect; simple, natural thoughts are expressed in simple and +perfectly transparent language. + +_Terpsichore_, read at an annual dinner of the Phi Beta Kappa Society at +Cambridge, sparkles throughout with keen wit, quaint conceits, and satire +so good-natured that the subjects of it can enjoy it as heartily as their +neighbors. Witness this thrust at our German-English writers:-- + + "Essays so dark, Champollion might despair + To guess what mummy of a thought was there, + Where our poor English, striped with foreign phrase, Looks like a + zebra in a parson's chaise." + +Or this at our transcendental friends:-- + + "Deluded infants! will they never know + Some doubts must darken o'er the world below + Though all the Platos of the nursery trail + Their clouds of glory at the go-cart's tail?" + +The lines _On Lending a Punch-Bowl_ are highly characteristic. Nobody +but Holmes could have conjured up so many rare fancies in connection with +such a matter. Hear him:-- + + "This ancient silver bowl of mine, it tells of good old times, + Of joyous days, and jolly nights, and merry Christmas chimes; + They were a free and jovial race, but honest, brave, and true, + That dipped their ladle in the punch when this old bowl was new. + + "A Spanish galleon brought the bar; so runs the ancient tale; + 'T was hammered by an Antwerp smith, whose arm was like a flail; + And now and then between the strokes, for fear his strength should fail, + He wiped his brow, and quaffed a cup of good old Flemish ale. + + "'T was purchased by an English squire to please his loving dame, + Who saw the cherubs, and conceived a longing for the same; + And oft as on the ancient stock another twig was found, + 'T was filled with candle spiced and hot and handed smoking round. + + "But, changing hands, it reached at length a Puritan divine, + Who used to follow Timothy, and take a little wine, + But hated punch and prelacy; and so it was, perhaps, + He went to Leyden, where he found conventicles and schnaps. + + "And then, of course, you know what's next,--it left the Dutchman's shore + With those that in the Mayflower came,--a hundred souls and more,-- + Along with all the furniture, to fill their new abodes,-- + To judge by what is still on hand, at least a hundred loads. + + "'T was on a dreary winter's eve, the night was closing dim, + When brave Miles Standish took the bowl, and filled it to the brim; + The little Captain stood and stirred the posset with his sword, + And all his sturdy men-at-arms were ranged about the board. + + "He poured the fiery Hollands in,--the man that never feared,-- + He took a long and solemn draught, and wiped his yellow beard; + And one by one the musketeers--the men that fought and prayed-- + All drank as 't were their mother's milk, and not a man afraid. + + "That night, affrighted from his nest, the screaming eagle flew, + He heard the Pequot's ringing whoop, the soldier's wild halloo; + And there the sachem learned the rule he taught to kith and kin, + 'Run from the white man when you find he smells of Hollands gin!'" + + +In his _Nux Postcoenatica_ he gives us his reflections on being invited +to a dinner-party, where he was expected to "set the table in a roar" by +reading funny verses. He submits it to the judgment and common sense of +the importunate bearer of the invitation, that this dinner-going, ballad- +making, mirth-provoking habit is not likely to benefit his reputation as +a medical professor. + + "Besides, my prospects. Don't you know that people won't employ + A man that wrongs his manliness by laughing like a boy, + And suspect the azure blossom that unfolds upon a shoot, + As if Wisdom's oldpotato could not flourish at its root? + + "It's a very fine reflection, when you're etching out a smile + On a copperplate of faces that would stretch into a mile. + That, what with sneers from enemies and cheapening shrugs from friends, + It will cost you all the earnings that a month of labor lends." + + +There are, as might be expected, some commonplace pieces in the volume,-- +a few failures in the line of humor. The _Spectre Pig_, the _Dorchester +Giant_, the _Height of the Ridiculous_, and one or two others might be +omitted in the next edition without detriment. They would do well enough +for an amateur humorist, but are scarcely worthy of one who stands at the +head of the profession. + +It was said of James Smith, of the Rejected Addresses, that "if he had +not been a witty man, he would have been a great man." Hood's humor and +drollery kept in the background the pathos and beauty of his sober +productions; and Dr. Holmes, we suspect, might have ranked higher among a +large class of readers than he now does had he never written his _Ballad +of the Oysterman_, his _Comet_, and his _September Gale_. Such lyrics as +_La Grisette_, the _Puritan's Vision_, and that unique compound of humor +and pathos, _The Last Leaf_; show that he possesses the power of touching +the deeper chords of the heart and of calling forth tears as well as +smiles. Who does not feel the power of this simple picture of the old +man in the last-mentioned poem? + + "But now he walks the streets, + And he looks at all he meets + Sad and wan, + And he shakes his feeble head, + That it seems as if he said, + 'They are gone.' + + "The mossy marbles rest + On the lips that he has prest + In their bloom, + And the names he loved to hear + Have been carved for many a year + On the tomb." + +Dr. Holmes has been likened to Thomas Hood; but there is little in common +between them save the power of combining fancy and sentiment with +grotesque drollery and humor. Hood, under all his whims and oddities, +conceals the vehement intensity of a reformer. The iron of the world's +wrongs had entered into his soul; there is an undertone of sorrow in his +lyrics; his sarcasm, directed against oppression and bigotry, at times +betrays the earnestness of one whose own withers have been wrung. Holmes +writes simply for the amusement of himself and his readers; he deals only +with the vanity, the foibles, and the minor faults of mankind, good +naturedly and almost sympathizingly suggesting excuses for the folly +which he tosses about on the horns of his ridicule. In this respect he +differs widely from his fellow-townsman, Russell Lowell, whose keen wit +and scathing sarcasm, in the famous Biglow Papers, and the notes of +Parson Wilbur, strike at the great evils of society and deal with the +rank offences of church and state. Hosea Biglow, in his way, is as +earnest a preacher as Habakkuk Mucklewrath or Obadiah Bind-their-kings- +in-chains-and-their-nobles-in-fetters-of-iron. His verse smacks of the +old Puritan flavor. Holmes has a gentler mission. His careless, genial +humor reminds us of James Smith in his _Rejected Addresses_ and of Horace +in _London_. Long may he live to make broader the face of our care- +ridden generation, and to realize for himself the truth of the wise man's +declaration that a "merry heart is a continual feast." + + + + +FAME AND GLORY. + +Notice of an Address before the Literary Society of Amherst College, by +Charles Sumner. + +THE learned and eloquent author of the pamphlet lying before us with the +above title belongs to a class, happily on the increase in our country, +who venture to do homage to unpopular truths in defiance of the social +and political tyranny of opinion which has made so many of our statesmen, +orators, and divines the mere playthings and shuttlecocks of popular +impulses for evil far oftener than for good. His first production, the +_True Grandeur of Nations_, written for the anniversary of American +Independence, was not more remarkable for its evidences of a highly +cultivated taste and wide historical research than for its inculcation of +a high morality,--the demand for practical Christianity in nations as +well as individuals. It burned no incense under the nostrils of an +already inflated and vain people. It gratified them by no rhetorical +falsehoods about "the land of the free and the home of the brave." It +did not apostrophize military heroes, nor strut "red wat shod" over the +plains of battle, nor call up, like another Ezekiel, from the valley of +vision the dry bones thereof. It uttered none of the precious scoundrel +cant, so much in vogue after the annexation of Texas was determined upon, +about the destiny of the United States to enter in and possess the lands +of all whose destiny it is to live next us, and to plant everywhere the +"peculiar institutions" of a peculiarly Christian and chosen people, the +landstealing propensity of whose progressive republicanism is declared to +be in accordance with the will and by the grace of God, and who, like the +Scotch freebooter,-- + + "Pattering an Ave Mary + When he rode on a border forray,"-- + +while trampling on the rights of a sister republic, and re-creating +slavery where that republic had abolished it, talk piously of "the +designs of Providence" and the Anglo-Saxon instrumentalities thereof in +"extending the area of freedom." On the contrary, the author portrayed +the evils of war and proved its incompatibility with Christianity,-- +contrasting with its ghastly triumphs the mild victories of peace and +love. Our true mission, he taught, was not to act over in the New World +the barbarous game which has desolated the Old; but to offer to the +nations of the earth, warring and discordant, oppressed and oppressing, +the beautiful example of a free and happy people studying the things +which make for peace,--Democracy and Christianity walking hand in hand, +blessing and being blessed. + +His next public effort, an Address before the Literary Society of his +Alma Mater, was in the same vein. He improved the occasion of the recent +death of four distinguished members of that fraternity to delineate his +beautiful ideal of the jurist, the scholar, the artist, and the +philanthropist, aided by the models furnished by the lives of such men as +Pickering, Story, Allston, and Channing. Here, also, he makes greatness +to consist of goodness: war and slavery and all their offspring of evil +are surveyed in the light of the morality of the New Testament. He looks +hopefully forward to the coming of that day when the sword shall devour +no longer, when labor shall grind no longer in the prison-house, and the +peace and freedom of a realized and acted-out Christianity shall +overspread the earth, and the golden age predicted by the seers and poets +alike of Paganism and Christianity shall become a reality. + +The Address now before us, with the same general object in view, is more +direct and practical. We can scarcely conceive of a discourse better +adapted to prepare the young American, just issuing from his collegiate +retirement, for the duties and responsibilities of citizenship. It +treats the desire of fame and honor as one native to the human heart, +felt to a certain extent by all as a part of our common being,--a motive, +although by no means the most exalted, of human conduct; and the lesson +it would inculcate is, that no true and permanent fame can be founded +except in labors which promote the happiness of mankind. To use the +language of Dr. South, "God is the fountain of honor; the conduit by +which He conveys it to the sons of men are virtuous and generous +practices." The author presents the beautiful examples of St. Pierre, +Milton, Howard, and Clarkson,--men whose fame rests on the firm +foundation of goodness,--for the study and imitation of the young +candidate for that true glory which belongs to those who live, not for +themselves, but for their race. "Neither present fame, nor war, nor +power, nor wealth, nor knowledge alone shall secure an entrance to the +true and noble Valhalla. There shall be gathered only those who have +toiled each in his vocation for the welfare of others." "Justice and +benevolence are higher than knowledge and power It is by His goodness +that God is most truly known; so also is the great man. When Moses said +to the Lord, Show me Thy glory, the Lord said, I will make all my +goodness pass before thee." + +We copy the closing paragraph of the Address, the inspiring sentiment of +which will find a response in all generous and hopeful hearts:-- + +"Let us reverse the very poles of the worship of past ages. Men have +thus far bowed down before stocks, stones, insects, crocodiles, golden +calves,--graven images, often of cunning workmanship, wrought with +Phidian skill, of ivory, of ebony, of marble, but all false gods. Let +them worship in future the true God, our Father, as He is in heaven and +in the beneficent labors of His children on earth. Then farewell to the +siren song of a worldly ambition! Farewell to the vain desire of mere +literary success or oratorical display! Farewell to the distempered +longings for office! Farewell to the dismal, blood-red phantom of +martial renown! Fame and glory may then continue, as in times past, the +reflection of public opinion; but of an opinion sure and steadfast, +without change or fickleness, enlightened by those two sons of Christian +truth,--love to God and love to man. From the serene illumination of +these duties all the forms of selfishness shall retreat like evil spirits +at the dawn of day. Then shall the happiness of the poor and lowly and +the education of the ignorant have uncounted friends. The cause of those +who are in prison shall find fresh voices; the majesty of peace other +vindicators; the sufferings of the slave new and gushing floods of +sympathy. Then, at last, shall the brotherhood of man stand confessed; +ever filling the souls of all with a more generous life; ever prompting +to deeds of beneficence; conquering the heathen prejudices of country, +color, and race; guiding the judgment of the historian; animating the +verse of the poet and the eloquence of the orator; ennobling human +thought and conduct; and inspiring those good works by which alone we may +attain to the heights of true glory. Good works! Such even now is the +heavenly ladder on which angels are ascending and descending, while weary +humanity, on pillows of storfe, slumbers heavily at its feet." + +We know how easy it is to sneer at such anticipations of a better future +as baseless and visionary. The shrewd but narrow-eyed man of the world +laughs at the suggestion that there car: be any stronger motive than +selfishness, any higher morality than that of the broker's board. The +man who relies for salvation from the consequences of an evil and selfish +life upon the verbal orthodoxy of a creed presents the depravity and +weakness of human nature as insuperable obstacles in the way of the +general amelioration of the condition of a world lying in wickedness. He +counts it heretical and dangerous to act upon the supposition that the +same human nature which, in his own case and that of his associates, can +confront all perils, overcome all obstacles, and outstrip the whirlwind +in the pursuit of gain,--which makes the strong elements its servants, +taming and subjugating the very lightnings of heaven to work out its own +purposes of self-aggrandizement,--must necessarily, and by an ordination +of Providence, become weak as water, when engaged in works of love and +goodwill, looking for the coming of a better day for humanity, with faith +in the promises of the Gospel, and relying upon Him, who, in calling man +to the great task-field of duty, has not mocked him with the mournful +necessity of laboring in vain. We have been pained more than words can +express to see young, generous hearts, yearning with strong desires to +consecrate themselves to the cause of their fellow-men, checked and +chilled by the ridicule of worldly-wise conservatism, and the solemn +rebukes of practical infidelity in the guise of a piety which professes +to love the unseen Father, while disregarding the claims of His visible +children. Visionary! Were not the good St. Pierre, and Fenelon, and +Howard, and Clarkson visionaries also? + +What was John Woolman, to the wise and prudent of his day, but an amiable +enthusiast? What, to those of our own, is such an angel of mercy as +Dorothea Dix? Who will not, in view of the labors of such +philanthropists, adopt the language of Jonathan Edwards: "If these things +be enthusiasms and the fruits of a distempered brain, let my brain be +evermore possessed with this happy distemper"? + +It must, however, be confessed that there is a cant of philanthropy too +general and abstract for any practical purpose,--a morbid +sentimentalism,--which contents itself with whining over real or +imaginary present evil, and predicting a better state somewhere in the +future, but really doing nothing to remove the one or hasten the coming +of the other. To its view the present condition of things is all wrong; +no green hillock or twig rises over the waste deluge; the heaven above is +utterly dark and starless: yet, somehow, out of this darkness which may +be felt, the light is to burst forth miraculously; wrong, sin, pain, and +sorrow are to be banished from the renovated world, and earth become a +vast epicurean garden or Mahometan heaven. + + "The land, unploughed, shall yield her crop; + Pure honey from the oak shall drop; + The fountain shall run milk; + The thistle shall the lily bear; + And every bramble roses wear, + And every worm make silk." + + (Ben Jenson's Golden Age Restored.) + +There are, in short, perfectionist reformers as well as religionists, who +wait to see the salvation which it is the task of humanity itself to work +out, and who look down from a region of ineffable self-complacence on +their dusty and toiling brethren who are resolutely doing whatsoever +their hands find to do for the removal of the evils around them. + +The emblem of practical Christianity is the Samaritan stooping over the +wounded Jew. No fastidious hand can lift from the dust fallen humanity +and bind up its unsightly gashes. Sentimental lamentation over evil and +suffering may be indulged in until it becomes a sort of melancholy +luxury, like the "weeping for Thammuz" by the apostate daughters of +Jerusalem. Our faith in a better day for the race is strong; but we feel +quite sure it will come in spite of such abstract reformers, and not by +reason of them. The evils which possess humanity are of a kind which go +not out by their delicate appliances. + +The author of the Address under consideration is not of this class. He +has boldly, and at no small cost, grappled with the great social and +political wrong of our country,--chattel slavery. Looking, as we have +seen, hopefully to the future, he is nevertheless one of those who can +respond to the words of a true poet and true man:-- + + "He is a coward who would borrow + A charm against the present sorrow + From the vague future's promise of delight + As life's alarums nearer roll, + The ancestral buckler calls, + Self-clanging, from the walls + In the high temple of the soul!" + + (James Russell Lowell.) + + + + +FANATICISM. + +THERE are occasionally deeds committed almost too horrible and revolting +for publication. The tongue falters in giving them utterance; the pen +trembles that records them. Such is the ghastly horror of a late tragedy +in Edgecomb, in the State of Maine. A respectable and thriving citizen +and his wife had been for some years very unprofitably engaged in +brooding over the mysteries of the Apocalypse, and in speculations upon +the personal coming of Christ and the temporal reign of the saints on +earth,--a sort of Mahometan paradise, which has as little warrant in +Scripture as in reason. Their minds of necessity became unsettled; they +meditated self-destruction; and, as it appears by a paper left behind in +the handwriting of both, came to an agreement that the husband should +first kill his wife and their four children, and then put an end to his +own existence. This was literally executed,--the miserable man striking +off the heads of his wife and children with his axe, and then cutting his +own throat. + +Alas for man when he turns from the light of reason and from the simple +and clearly defined duties of the present life, and undertakes to pry +into the mysteries of the future, bewildering himself with uncertain and +vague prophecies, Oriental imagery, and obscure Hebrew texts! Simple, +cheerful faith in God as our great and good Father, and love of His +children as our brethren, acted out in all relations and duties, is +certainly best for this world, and we believe also the best preparation +for that to come. Once possessed by the falsity that God's design is +that man should be wretched and gloomy here in order to obtain rest and +happiness hereafter; that the mental agonies and bodily tortures of His +creatures are pleasant to Him; that, after bestowing upon us reason for +our guidance, He makes it of no avail by interposing contradictory +revelations and arbitrary commands,--there is nothing to prevent one of a +melancholic and excitable temperament from excesses so horrible as almost +to justify the old belief in demoniac obsession. + +Charles Brockden Brown, a writer whose merits have not yet been +sufficiently acknowledged, has given a powerful and philosophical +analysis of this morbid state of mind--this diseased conscientiousness, +obeying the mad suggestions of a disordered brain as the injunctions of +Divinity--in his remarkable story of Wieland. The hero of this strange +and solemn romance, inheriting a melancholy and superstitious mental +constitution, becomes in middle age the victim of a deep, and tranquil +because deep, fanaticism. A demon in human form, perceiving his state of +mind, wantonly experiments upon it, deepening and intensifying it by a +fearful series of illusions of sight and sound. Tricks of jugglery and +ventriloquism seem to his feverish fancies miracles and omens--the eye +and the voice of the Almighty piercing the atmosphere of supernatural +mystery in which he has long dwelt. He believes that he is called upon +to sacrifice the beloved wife of his bosom as a testimony of the entire +subjugation of his carnal reason and earthly affections to the Divine +will. In the entire range of English literature there is no more +thrilling passage than that which describes the execution of this baleful +suggestion. The coloring of the picture is an intermingling of the +lights of heaven and hell,--soft shades of tenderest pity and warm tints +of unextinguishable love contrasting with the terrible outlines of an +insane and cruel purpose, traced with the blood of murder. The masters +of the old Greek tragedy have scarcely exceeded the sublime horror of +this scene from the American novelist. The murderer confronted with his +gentle and loving victim in her chamber; her anxious solicitude for his +health and quiet; her affectionate caress of welcome; his own relentings +and natural shrinking from his dreadful purpose; and the terrible +strength which he supposes is lent him of Heaven, by which he puts down +the promptings and yearnings of his human heart, and is enabled to +execute the mandate of an inexorable Being,--are described with an +intensity which almost stops the heart of the reader. When the deed is +done a frightful conflict of passions takes place, which can only be told +in the words of the author:-- + +"I lifted the corpse in my arms and laid it on the bed. I gazed upon it +with delight. Such was my elation that I even broke out into laughter. +I clapped my hands, and exclaimed, 'It is done! My sacred duty is +fulfilled! To that I have sacrificed, O God, Thy last and best gift, my +wife!' + +"For a while I thus soared above frailty. I imagined I had set myself +forever beyond the reach of selfishness. But my imaginations were false. +This rapture quickly subsided. I looked again at my wife. My joyous +ebullitions vanished. I asked myself who it was whom I saw. Methought +it could not be my Catharine; it could not be the woman who had lodged +for years in my heart; who had slept nightly in my bosom; who had borne +in her womb and fostered at her breast the beings who called me father; +whom I had watched over with delight and cherished with a fondness ever +new and perpetually growing. It could not be the same! + +"The breath of heaven that sustained me was withdrawn, and I sunk into +mere man. I leaped from the floor; I dashed my head against the wall; I +uttered screams of horror; I panted after torment and pain. Eternal fire +and the bickerings of hell, compared with what I felt, were music and a +bed of roses. + +"I thank my God that this was transient; that He designed once more to +raise me aloft. I thought upon what I had done as a sacrifice to duty, +and was calm. My wife was dead; but I reflected that, although this +source of human consolation was closed, others were still open. If the +transports of the husband were no more, the feelings of +the father had still scope for exercise. When remembrance of their +mother should excite too keen a pang, I would look upon my children and +be comforted. + +"While I revolved these things new warmth flowed in upon my heart. I was +wrong. These feelings were the growth of selfishness. Of this I was not +aware; and, to dispel the mist that obscured my perceptions, a new light +and a new mandate were necessary. + +"From these thoughts I was recalled by a ray which was shot into the +room. A voice spoke like that I had before heard: 'Thou hast done well; +but all is not done--the sacrifice is incomplete--thy children must be +offered--they must perish with their mother!'" + +The misguided man obeys the voice; his children are destroyed in their +bloom and innocent beauty. He is arrested, tried for murder, and +acquitted as insane. The light breaks in upon him at last; he discovers +the imposture which has controlled him; and, made desperate by the full +consciousness of his folly and crime, ends the terrible drama by suicide. + +Wieland is not a pleasant book. In one respect it resembles the modern +tale of Wuthering Heights: it has great strength and power, but no +beauty. Unlike that, however, it has an important and salutary moral. It +is a warning to all who tamper with the mind and rashly experiment upon +its religious element. As such, its perusal by the sectarian zealots of +all classes would perhaps be quite as profitable as much of their present +studies. + + + + +THE POETRY OF THE NORTH. + +THE Democratic Review not long since contained a singularly wild and +spirited poem, entitled the Norseman's Ride, in which the writer appears +to have very happily blended the boldness and sublimity of the heathen +saga with the grace and artistic skill of the literature of civilization. +The poetry of the Northmen, like their lives, was bold, defiant, and full +of a rude, untamed energy. It was inspired by exhibitions of power +rather than of beauty. Its heroes were beastly revellers or cruel and +ferocious plunderers; its heroines unsexed hoidens, playing the ugliest +tricks with their lovers, and repaying slights with bloody revenge,--very +dangerous and unsatisfactory companions for any other than the fire- +eating Vikings and redhanded, unwashed Berserkers. Significant of a +religion which reverenced the strong rather than the good, and which +regarded as meritorious the unrestrained indulgence of the passions, it +delighted to sing the praises of some coarse debauch or pitiless +slaughter. The voice of its scalds was often but the scream of the +carrion-bird, or the howl of the wolf, scenting human blood:-- + + "Unlike to human sounds it came; + Unmixed, unmelodized with breath; + But grinding through some scrannel frame, + Creaked from the bony lungs of Death." + +Its gods were brutal giant forces, patrons of war, robbery, and drunken +revelry; its heaven a vast cloud-built ale-house, where ghostly warriors +drank from the skulls of their victims; its hell a frozen horror of +desolation and darkness,--all that the gloomy Northern imagination could +superadd to the repulsive and frightful features of arctic scenery: +volcanoes spouting fire through craters rimmed with perpetual frost, +boiling caldrons flinging their fierce jets high into the air, and huge +jokuls, or ice-mountains, loosened and upheaved by volcanic agencies, +crawling slowly seaward, like misshapen monsters endowed with life,--a +region of misery unutterable, to be avoided only by diligence in robbery +and courage in murder. + +What a work had Christianity to perform upon such a people as the +Icelanders, for instance, of the tenth century!--to substitute in rude, +savage minds the idea of its benign and gentle Founder for that of the +Thor and Woden of Norse mythology; the forgiveness, charity, and humility +of the Gospel for the revenge, hatred, and pride inculcated by the Eddas. +And is it not one of the strongest proofs of the divine life and power of +that Gospel, that, under its influence, the hard and cruel Norse heart +has been so softened and humanized that at this moment one of the best +illustrations of the peaceful and gentle virtues which it inculcates is +afforded by the descendants of the sea-kings and robbers of the middle +centuries? No one can read the accounts which such travellers as Sir +George Mackenzie and Dr. Henderson have given us of the peaceful +disposition, social equality, hospitality, industry, intellectual +cultivation, morality, and habitual piety of the Icelanders, without a +grateful sense of the adaptation of Christianity to the wants of our +race, and of its ability to purify, elevate, and transform the worst +elements of human character. In Iceland Christianity has performed its +work of civilization, unobstructed by that commercial cupidity which has +caused nations more favored in respect to soil and climate to lapse into +an idolatry scarcely less debasing and cruel than that which preceded the +introduction of the Gospel. Trial by combat was abolished in 1001, and +the penalty of the imaginary crime of witchcraft was blotted from the +statutes of the island nearly half a century before it ceased to disgrace +those of Great Britain. So entire has been the change wrought in the +sanguinary and cruel Norse character that at the present day no Icelander +can be found who, for any reward, will undertake the office of +executioner. The scalds, who went forth to battle, cleaving the skulls +of their enemies with the same skilful hands which struck the harp at the +feast, have given place to Christian bards and teachers, who, like +Thorlakson, whom Dr. Henderson found toiling cheerfully with his beloved +parishioners in the hay-harvest of the brief arctic summer, combine with +the vigorous diction and robust thought of their predecessors the warm +and genial humanity of a religion of love and the graces and amenities of +a high civilization. + +But we have wandered somewhat aside from our purpose, which was simply to +introduce the following poem, which, in the boldness of its tone and +vigor of language, reminds us of the Sword Chant, the Wooing Song, and +other rhymed sagas of Motherwell. + + + + +THE NORSEMAN'S RIDE. BY BAYARD TAYLOR. + + The frosty fires of northern starlight + Gleamed on the glittering snow, + And through the forest's frozen branches + The shrieking winds did blow; + A floor of blue and icy marble + Kept Ocean's pulses still, + When, in the depths of dreary midnight, + Opened the burial hill. + + Then, while the low and creeping shudder + + Thrilled upward through the ground, + The Norseman came, as armed for battle, + In silence from his mound,-- + He who was mourned in solemn sorrow + By many a swordsman bold, + And harps that wailed along the ocean, + Struck by the scalds of old. + + Sudden a swift and silver shadow + Came up from out the gloom,-- + A charger that, with hoof impatient, + Stamped noiseless by the tomb. + "Ha! Surtur,!* let me hear thy tramping, + My fiery Northern steed, + That, sounding through the stormy forest, + Bade the bold Viking heed!" + + He mounted; like a northlight streaking + The sky with flaming bars, + They, on the winds so wildly shrieking, + Shot up before the stars. + "Is this thy mane, my fearless Surtur, + That streams against my breast? + + (*The name of the Scandinavian god of fire.) + + Is this thy neck, that curve of moonlight + Which Helva's hand caressed? + "No misty breathing strains thy nostril; + Thine eye shines blue and cold; + Yet mounting up our airy pathway + I see thy hoofs of gold. + Not lighter o'er the springing rainbow + Walhalla's gods repair + Than we in sweeping journey over + The bending bridge of air. + + "Far, far around star-gleams are sparkling + Amid the twilight space; + And Earth, that lay so cold and darkling, + Has veiled her dusky face. + Are those the Normes that beckon onward + As if to Odin's board, + Where by the hands of warriors nightly + The sparkling mead is poured? + + "'T is Skuld:* I her star-eye speaks the glory + That wraps the mighty soul, + When on its hinge of music opens + The gateway of the pole; + When Odin's warder leads the hero + To banquets never o'er, + And Freya's** glances fill the bosom + With sweetness evermore. + + "On! on! the northern lights are streaming + In brightness like the morn, + And pealing far amid the vastness + I hear the gyallarhorn *** + The heart of starry space is throbbing + With songs of minstrels old; + And now on high Walhalla's portal + Gleam Surtur's hoofs of gold." + +* The Norne of the future. + +** Freya, the Northern goddess of love. + +*** The horn blown by the watchers on the rainbow, the bridge over which +the gods pass in Northern mythology. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Complete Works of Whittier, by +John Greenleaf Whittier + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WHITTIER *** + +***** This file should be named 9600.txt or 9600.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/6/0/9600/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/wordsworth.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/wordsworth.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8e425a --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/wordsworth.txt @@ -0,0 +1,32 @@ +Daffodils + + I wandered lonely as a cloud + That floats on high o'er vales and hills, + When all at once I saw a crowd, + A host, of golden daffodils; + Beside the lake, beneath the trees, + Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. + + Continuous as the stars that shine + And twinkle on the milky way, + They stretched in never-ending line + Along the margin of a bay: + Ten thousand saw I at a glance, + Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. + + The waves beside them danced; but they + Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: + A poet could not but be gay, + In such a jocund company: + I gazed--and gazed--but little thought + What wealth the show to me had brought: + + For oft, when on my couch I lie + In vacant or in pensive mood, + They flash upon that inward eye + Which is the bliss of solitude; + And then my heart with pleasure fills, + And dances with the daffodils. + + -- William Wordsworth + diff --git a/wk5/pset/speller/texts/xueqin1.txt b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/xueqin1.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d1dc0f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/wk5/pset/speller/texts/xueqin1.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19162 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hung Lou Meng, Book I, by Cao Xueqin + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Hung Lou Meng, Book I + +Author: Cao Xueqin + +Release Date: January, 2006 [EBook #9603] +[This file was first posted on October 9, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HUNG LOU MENG, BOOK I *** + + + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland and Project Gutenberg Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + + + +Editors note: This novel is divided into two books, of which this is + Book I. Book II (7hlm210.txt, 7hlm210.zip, 8hlm210.txt, + or 8hllm210.zip) will be found in our etext05 directory + (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext05/). + + + + +HUNG LOU MENG; + +OR, THE DREAM OF THE RED CHAMBER, A CHINESE NOVEL + +BY + +CAO XUEQIN + +Translated by H. BENCRAFT JOLY + + + + + + + +BOOK I. + + + + + +PREFACE. + +This translation was suggested not by any pretensions to range myself +among the ranks of the body of sinologues, but by the perplexities and +difficulties experienced by me as a student in Peking, when, at the +completion of the Tzu Erh Chi, I had to plunge in the maze of the Hung +Lou Meng. + +Shortcomings are, I feel sure, to be discovered, both in the prose, as +well as among the doggerel and uncouth rhymes, in which the text has +been more adhered to than rhythm; but I shall feel satisfied with the +result, if I succeed, even in the least degree, in affording a helping +hand to present and future students of the Chinese language. + +H. BENCRAFT JOLY, H.B.M. Vice-Consulate, Macao, 1st September, 1891. + + + + + + +THE DREAM OF THE RED CHAMBER. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + Chen Shih-yin, in a vision, apprehends perception and spirituality. + Chia Yue-ts'un, in the (windy and dusty) world, cherishes fond thoughts + of a beautiful maiden. + + +This is the opening section; this the first chapter. Subsequent to the +visions of a dream which he had, on some previous occasion, experienced, +the writer personally relates, he designedly concealed the true +circumstances, and borrowed the attributes of perception and +spirituality to relate this story of the Record of the Stone. With this +purpose, he made use of such designations as Chen Shih-yin (truth under +the garb of fiction) and the like. What are, however, the events +recorded in this work? Who are the dramatis personae? + +Wearied with the drudgery experienced of late in the world, the author +speaking for himself, goes on to explain, with the lack of success which +attended every single concern, I suddenly bethought myself of the +womankind of past ages. Passing one by one under a minute scrutiny, I +felt that in action and in lore, one and all were far above me; that in +spite of the majesty of my manliness, I could not, in point of fact, +compare with these characters of the gentle sex. And my shame forsooth +then knew no bounds; while regret, on the other hand, was of no avail, +as there was not even a remote possibility of a day of remedy. + +On this very day it was that I became desirous to compile, in a +connected form, for publication throughout the world, with a view to +(universal) information, how that I bear inexorable and manifold +retribution; inasmuch as what time, by the sustenance of the benevolence +of Heaven, and the virtue of my ancestors, my apparel was rich and fine, +and as what days my fare was savory and sumptuous, I disregarded the +bounty of education and nurture of father and mother, and paid no heed +to the virtue of precept and injunction of teachers and friends, with +the result that I incurred the punishment, of failure recently in the +least trifle, and the reckless waste of half my lifetime. There have +been meanwhile, generation after generation, those in the inner +chambers, the whole mass of whom could not, on any account, be, through +my influence, allowed to fall into extinction, in order that I, unfilial +as I have been, may have the means to screen my own shortcomings. + +Hence it is that the thatched shed, with bamboo mat windows, the bed of +tow and the stove of brick, which are at present my share, are not +sufficient to deter me from carrying out the fixed purpose of my mind. +And could I, furthermore, confront the morning breeze, the evening moon, +the willows by the steps and the flowers in the courtyard, methinks +these would moisten to a greater degree my mortal pen with ink; but +though I lack culture and erudition, what harm is there, however, in +employing fiction and unrecondite language to give utterance to the +merits of these characters? And were I also able to induce the inmates +of the inner chamber to understand and diffuse them, could I besides +break the weariness of even so much as a single moment, or could I open +the eyes of my contemporaries, will it not forsooth prove a boon? + +This consideration has led to the usage of such names as Chia Yue-ts'un +and other similar appellations. + +More than any in these pages have been employed such words as dreams and +visions; but these dreams constitute the main argument of this work, and +combine, furthermore, the design of giving a word of warning to my +readers. + +Reader, can you suggest whence the story begins? + +The narration may border on the limits of incoherency and triviality, +but it possesses considerable zest. But to begin. + +The Empress Nue Wo, (the goddess of works,) in fashioning blocks of +stones, for the repair of the heavens, prepared, at the Ta Huang Hills +and Wu Ch'i cave, 36,501 blocks of rough stone, each twelve chang in +height, and twenty-four chang square. Of these stones, the Empress Wo +only used 36,500; so that one single block remained over and above, +without being turned to any account. This was cast down the Ch'ing Keng +peak. This stone, strange to say, after having undergone a process of +refinement, attained a nature of efficiency, and could, by its innate +powers, set itself into motion and was able to expand and to contract. + +When it became aware that the whole number of blocks had been made use +of to repair the heavens, that it alone had been destitute of the +necessary properties and had been unfit to attain selection, it +forthwith felt within itself vexation and shame, and day and night, it +gave way to anguish and sorrow. + +One day, while it lamented its lot, it suddenly caught sight, at a great +distance, of a Buddhist bonze and of a Taoist priest coming towards that +direction. Their appearance was uncommon, their easy manner remarkable. +When they drew near this Ch'ing Keng peak, they sat on the ground to +rest, and began to converse. But on noticing the block newly-polished +and brilliantly clear, which had moreover contracted in dimensions, and +become no larger than the pendant of a fan, they were greatly filled +with admiration. The Buddhist priest picked it up, and laid it in the +palm of his hand. + +"Your appearance," he said laughingly, "may well declare you to be a +supernatural object, but as you lack any inherent quality it is +necessary to inscribe a few characters on you, so that every one who +shall see you may at once recognise you to be a remarkable thing. And +subsequently, when you will be taken into a country where honour and +affluence will reign, into a family cultured in mind and of official +status, in a land where flowers and trees shall flourish with +luxuriance, in a town of refinement, renown and glory; when you once +will have been there..." + +The stone listened with intense delight. + +"What characters may I ask," it consequently inquired, "will you +inscribe? and what place will I be taken to? pray, pray explain to me in +lucid terms." "You mustn't be inquisitive," the bonze replied, with a +smile, "in days to come you'll certainly understand everything." Having +concluded these words, he forthwith put the stone in his sleeve, and +proceeded leisurely on his journey, in company with the Taoist priest. +Whither, however, he took the stone, is not divulged. Nor can it be +known how many centuries and ages elapsed, before a Taoist priest, K'ung +K'ung by name, passed, during his researches after the eternal reason +and his quest after immortality, by these Ta Huang Hills, Wu Ch'i cave +and Ch'ing Keng Peak. Suddenly perceiving a large block of stone, on the +surface of which the traces of characters giving, in a connected form, +the various incidents of its fate, could be clearly deciphered, K'ung +K'ung examined them from first to last. They, in fact, explained how +that this block of worthless stone had originally been devoid of the +properties essential for the repairs to the heavens, how it would be +transmuted into human form and introduced by Mang Mang the High Lord, +and Miao Miao, the Divine, into the world of mortals, and how it would +be led over the other bank (across the San Sara). On the surface, the +record of the spot where it would fall, the place of its birth, as well +as various family trifles and trivial love affairs of young ladies, +verses, odes, speeches and enigmas was still complete; but the name of +the dynasty and the year of the reign were obliterated, and could not be +ascertained. + +On the obverse, were also the following enigmatical verses: + + Lacking in virtues meet the azure skies to mend, + In vain the mortal world full many a year I wend, + Of a former and after life these facts that be, + Who will for a tradition strange record for me? + +K'ung K'ung, the Taoist, having pondered over these lines for a while, +became aware that this stone had a history of some kind. + +"Brother stone," he forthwith said, addressing the stone, "the concerns +of past days recorded on you possess, according to your own account, a +considerable amount of interest, and have been for this reason +inscribed, with the intent of soliciting generations to hand them down +as remarkable occurrences. But in my own opinion, they lack, in the +first place, any data by means of which to establish the name of the +Emperor and the year of his reign; and, in the second place, these +constitute no record of any excellent policy, adopted by any high +worthies or high loyal statesmen, in the government of the state, or in +the rule of public morals. The contents simply treat of a certain number +of maidens, of exceptional character; either of their love affairs or +infatuations, or of their small deserts or insignificant talents; and +were I to transcribe the whole collection of them, they would, +nevertheless, not be estimated as a book of any exceptional worth." + +"Sir Priest," the stone replied with assurance, "why are you so +excessively dull? The dynasties recorded in the rustic histories, which +have been written from age to age, have, I am fain to think, invariably +assumed, under false pretences, the mere nomenclature of the Han and +T'ang dynasties. They differ from the events inscribed on my block, +which do not borrow this customary practice, but, being based on my own +experiences and natural feelings, present, on the contrary, a novel and +unique character. Besides, in the pages of these rustic histories, +either the aspersions upon sovereigns and statesmen, or the strictures +upon individuals, their wives, and their daughters, or the deeds of +licentiousness and violence are too numerous to be computed. Indeed, +there is one more kind of loose literature, the wantonness and pollution +in which work most easy havoc upon youth. + +"As regards the works, in which the characters of scholars and beauties +is delineated their allusions are again repeatedly of Wen Chuen, their +theme in every page of Tzu Chien; a thousand volumes present no +diversity; and a thousand characters are but a counterpart of each +other. What is more, these works, throughout all their pages, cannot +help bordering on extreme licence. The authors, however, had no other +object in view than to give utterance to a few sentimental odes and +elegant ballads of their own, and for this reason they have fictitiously +invented the names and surnames of both men and women, and necessarily +introduced, in addition, some low characters, who should, like a buffoon +in a play, create some excitement in the plot. + +"Still more loathsome is a kind of pedantic and profligate literature, +perfectly devoid of all natural sentiment, full of self-contradictions; +and, in fact, the contrast to those maidens in my work, whom I have, +during half my lifetime, seen with my own eyes and heard with my own +ears. And though I will not presume to estimate them as superior to the +heroes and heroines in the works of former ages, yet the perusal of the +motives and issues of their experiences, may likewise afford matter +sufficient to banish dulness, and to break the spell of melancholy. + +"As regards the several stanzas of doggerel verse, they may too evoke +such laughter as to compel the reader to blurt out the rice, and to +spurt out the wine. + +"In these pages, the scenes depicting the anguish of separation, the +bliss of reunion, and the fortunes of prosperity and of adversity are +all, in every detail, true to human nature, and I have not taken upon +myself to make the slightest addition, or alteration, which might lead +to the perversion of the truth. + +"My only object has been that men may, after a drinking bout, or after +they wake from sleep or when in need of relaxation from the pressure of +business, take up this light literature, and not only expunge the traces +of antiquated books, and obtain a new kind of distraction, but that they +may also lay by a long life as well as energy and strength; for it bears +no point of similarity to those works, whose designs are false, whose +course is immoral. Now, Sir Priest, what are your views on the subject?" + +K'ung K'ung having pondered for a while over the words, to which he had +listened intently, re-perused, throughout, this record of the stone; and +finding that the general purport consisted of nought else than a +treatise on love, and likewise of an accurate transcription of facts, +without the least taint of profligacy injurious to the times, he +thereupon copied the contents, from beginning to end, to the intent of +charging the world to hand them down as a strange story. + +Hence it was that K'ung K'ung, the Taoist, in consequence of his +perception, (in his state of) abstraction, of passion, the generation, +from this passion, of voluptuousness, the transmission of this +voluptuousness into passion, and the apprehension, by means of passion, +of its unreality, forthwith altered his name for that of "Ch'ing Tseng" +(the Voluptuous Bonze), and changed the title of "the Memoir of a Stone" +(Shih-t'ou-chi,) for that of "Ch'ing Tseng Lu," The Record of the +Voluptuous Bonze; while K'ung Mei-chi of Tung Lu gave it the name of +"Feng Yueeh Pao Chien," "The Precious Mirror of Voluptuousness." In later +years, owing to the devotion by Tsao Hsueeh-ch'in in the Tao Hung study, +of ten years to the perusal and revision of the work, the additions and +modifications effected by him five times, the affix of an index and the +division into periods and chapters, the book was again entitled "Chin +Ling Shih Erh Ch'ai," "The Twelve Maidens of Chin Ling." A stanza was +furthermore composed for the purpose. This then, and no other, is the +origin of the Record of the Stone. The poet says appositely:-- + + Pages full of silly litter, + Tears a handful sour and bitter; + All a fool the author hold, + But their zest who can unfold? + +You have now understood the causes which brought about the Record of the +Stone, but as you are not, as yet, aware what characters are depicted, +and what circumstances are related on the surface of the block, reader, +please lend an ear to the narrative on the stone, which runs as +follows:-- + +In old days, the land in the South East lay low. In this South-East part +of the world, was situated a walled town, Ku Su by name. Within the +walls a locality, called the Ch'ang Men, was more than all others +throughout the mortal world, the centre, which held the second, if not +the first place for fashion and life. Beyond this Ch'ang Men was a +street called Shih-li-chieh (Ten _Li_ street); in this street a lane, +the Jen Ch'ing lane (Humanity and Purity); and in this lane stood an old +temple, which on account of its diminutive dimensions, was called, by +general consent, the Gourd temple. Next door to this temple lived the +family of a district official, Chen by surname, Fei by name, and +Shih-yin by style. His wife, nee Feng, possessed a worthy and virtuous +disposition, and had a clear perception of moral propriety and good +conduct. This family, though not in actual possession of excessive +affluence and honours, was, nevertheless, in their district, conceded to +be a clan of well-to-do standing. As this Chen Shih-yin was of a +contented and unambitious frame of mind, and entertained no hankering +after any official distinction, but day after day of his life took +delight in gazing at flowers, planting bamboos, sipping his wine and +conning poetical works, he was in fact, in the indulgence of these +pursuits, as happy as a supernatural being. + +One thing alone marred his happiness. He had lived over half a century +and had, as yet, no male offspring around his knees. He had one only +child, a daughter, whose infant name was Ying Lien. She was just three +years of age. On a long summer day, on which the heat had been intense, +Shih-yin sat leisurely in his library. Feeling his hand tired, he +dropped the book he held, leant his head on a teapoy, and fell asleep. + +Of a sudden, while in this state of unconsciousness, it seemed as if he +had betaken himself on foot to some spot or other whither he could not +discriminate. Unexpectedly he espied, in the opposite direction, two +priests coming towards him: the one a Buddhist, the other a Taoist. As +they advanced they kept up the conversation in which they were engaged. +"Whither do you purpose taking the object you have brought away?" he +heard the Taoist inquire. To this question the Buddhist replied with a +smile: "Set your mind at ease," he said; "there's now in maturity a plot +of a general character involving mundane pleasures, which will presently +come to a denouement. The whole number of the votaries of voluptuousness +have, as yet, not been quickened or entered the world, and I mean to +avail myself of this occasion to introduce this object among their +number, so as to give it a chance to go through the span of human +existence." "The votaries of voluptuousness of these days will naturally +have again to endure the ills of life during their course through the +mortal world," the Taoist remarked; "but when, I wonder, will they +spring into existence? and in what place will they descend?" + +"The account of these circumstances," the bonze ventured to reply, "is +enough to make you laugh! They amount to this: there existed in the +west, on the bank of the Ling (spiritual) river, by the side of the San +Sheng (thrice-born) stone, a blade of the Chiang Chu (purple pearl) +grass. At about the same time it was that the block of stone was, +consequent upon its rejection by the goddess of works, also left to +ramble and wander to its own gratification, and to roam about at +pleasure to every and any place. One day it came within the precincts of +the Ching Huan (Monitory Vision) Fairy; and this Fairy, cognizant of the +fact that this stone had a history, detained it, therefore, to reside at +the Ch'ih Hsia (purple clouds) palace, and apportioned to it the duties +of attendant on Shen Ying, a fairy of the Ch'ih Hsia palace. + +"This stone would, however, often stroll along the banks of the Ling +river, and having at the sight of the blade of spiritual grass been +filled with admiration, it, day by day, moistened its roots with sweet +dew. This purple pearl grass, at the outset, tarried for months and +years; but being at a later period imbued with the essence and +luxuriance of heaven and earth, and having incessantly received the +moisture and nurture of the sweet dew, divested itself, in course of +time, of the form of a grass; assuming, in lieu, a human nature, which +gradually became perfected into the person of a girl. + +"Every day she was wont to wander beyond the confines of the Li Hen +(divested animosities) heavens. When hungry she fed on the Pi Ch'ing +(hidden love) fruit--when thirsty she drank the Kuan ch'ou (discharged +sorrows,) water. Having, however, up to this time, not shewn her +gratitude for the virtue of nurture lavished upon her, the result was +but natural that she should resolve in her heart upon a constant and +incessant purpose to make suitable acknowledgment. + +"I have been," she would often commune within herself, "the recipient of +the gracious bounty of rain and dew, but I possess no such water as was +lavished upon me to repay it! But should it ever descend into the world +in the form of a human being, I will also betake myself thither, along +with it; and if I can only have the means of making restitution to it, +with the tears of a whole lifetime, I may be able to make adequate +return." + +"This resolution it is that will evolve the descent into the world of so +many pleasure-bound spirits of retribution and the experience of +fantastic destinies; and this crimson pearl blade will also be among the +number. The stone still lies in its original place, and why should not +you and I take it along before the tribunal of the Monitory Vision +Fairy, and place on its behalf its name on record, so that it should +descend into the world, in company with these spirits of passion, and +bring this plot to an issue?" + +"It is indeed ridiculous," interposed the Taoist. "Never before have I +heard even the very mention of restitution by means of tears! Why should +not you and I avail ourselves of this opportunity to likewise go down +into the world? and if successful in effecting the salvation of a few of +them, will it not be a work meritorious and virtuous?" + +"This proposal," remarked the Buddhist, "is quite in harmony with my own +views. Come along then with me to the palace of the Monitory Vision +Fairy, and let us deliver up this good-for-nothing object, and have done +with it! And when the company of pleasure-bound spirits of wrath descend +into human existence, you and I can then enter the world. Half of them +have already fallen into the dusty universe, but the whole number of +them have not, as yet, come together." + +"Such being the case," the Taoist acquiesced, "I am ready to follow you, +whenever you please to go." + +But to return to Chen Shih-yin. Having heard every one of these words +distinctly, he could not refrain from forthwith stepping forward and +paying homage. "My spiritual lords," he said, as he smiled, "accept my +obeisance." The Buddhist and Taoist priests lost no time in responding +to the compliment, and they exchanged the usual salutations. "My +spiritual lords," Shih-yin continued; "I have just heard the +conversation that passed between you, on causes and effects, a +conversation the like of which few mortals have forsooth listened to; +but your younger brother is sluggish of intellect, and cannot lucidly +fathom the import! Yet could this dulness and simplicity be graciously +dispelled, your younger brother may, by listening minutely, with +undefiled ear and careful attention, to a certain degree be aroused to a +sense of understanding; and what is more, possibly find the means of +escaping the anguish of sinking down into Hades." + +The two spirits smiled, "The conversation," they added, "refers to the +primordial scheme and cannot be divulged before the proper season; but, +when the time comes, mind do not forget us two, and you will readily be +able to escape from the fiery furnace." + +Shih-yin, after this reply, felt it difficult to make any further +inquiries. "The primordial scheme," he however remarked smiling, +"cannot, of course, be divulged; but what manner of thing, I wonder, is +the good-for-nothing object you alluded to a short while back? May I not +be allowed to judge for myself?" + +"This object about which you ask," the Buddhist Bonze responded, "is +intended, I may tell you, by fate to be just glanced at by you." With +these words he produced it, and handed it over to Shih-yin. + +Shih-yin received it. On scrutiny he found it, in fact, to be a +beautiful gem, so lustrous and so clear that the traces of characters on +the surface were distinctly visible. The characters inscribed consisted +of the four "T'ung Ling Pao Yue," "Precious Gem of Spiritual Perception." +On the obverse, were also several columns of minute words, which he was +just in the act of looking at intently, when the Buddhist at once +expostulated. + +"We have already reached," he exclaimed, "the confines of vision." +Snatching it violently out of his hands, he walked away with the Taoist, +under a lofty stone portal, on the face of which appeared in large type +the four characters: "T'ai Hsue Huan Ching," "The Visionary limits of the +Great Void." On each side was a scroll with the lines: + + When falsehood stands for truth, truth likewise becomes false, + Where naught be made to aught, aught changes into naught. + +Shih-yin meant also to follow them on the other side, but, as he was +about to make one step forward, he suddenly heard a crash, just as if +the mountains had fallen into ruins, and the earth sunk into +destruction. As Shih-yin uttered a loud shout, he looked with strained +eye; but all he could see was the fiery sun shining, with glowing rays, +while the banana leaves drooped their heads. By that time, half of the +circumstances connected with the dream he had had, had already slipped +from his memory. + +He also noticed a nurse coming towards him with Ying Lien in her arms. +To Shih-yin's eyes his daughter appeared even more beautiful, such a +bright gem, so precious, and so lovable. Forthwith stretching out his +arms, he took her over, and, as he held her in his embrace, he coaxed +her to play with him for a while; after which he brought her up to the +street to see the great stir occasioned by the procession that was going +past. + +He was about to come in, when he caught sight of two priests, one a +Taoist, the other a Buddhist, coming hither from the opposite direction. +The Buddhist had a head covered with mange, and went barefooted. The +Taoist had a limping foot, and his hair was all dishevelled. + +Like maniacs, they jostled along, chattering and laughing as they drew +near. + +As soon as they reached Shih-yin's door, and they perceived him with +Ying Lien in his arms, the Bonze began to weep aloud. + +Turning towards Shih-yin, he said to him: "My good Sir, why need you +carry in your embrace this living but luckless thing, which will involve +father and mother in trouble?" + +These words did not escape Shih-yin's ear; but persuaded that they +amounted to raving talk, he paid no heed whatever to the bonze. + +"Part with her and give her to me," the Buddhist still went on to say. + +Shih-yin could not restrain his annoyance; and hastily pressing his +daughter closer to him, he was intent upon going in, when the bonze +pointed his hand at him, and burst out in a loud fit of laughter. + +He then gave utterance to the four lines that follow: + + You indulge your tender daughter and are laughed at as inane; + Vain you face the snow, oh mirror! for it will evanescent wane, + When the festival of lanterns is gone by, guard 'gainst your doom, + 'Tis what time the flames will kindle, and the fire will consume. + +Shih-yin understood distinctly the full import of what he heard; but his +heart was still full of conjectures. He was about to inquire who and +what they were, when he heard the Taoist remark,--"You and I cannot +speed together; let us now part company, and each of us will be then +able to go after his own business. After the lapse of three ages, I +shall be at the Pei Mang mount, waiting for you; and we can, after our +reunion, betake ourselves to the Visionary Confines of the Great Void, +there to cancel the name of the stone from the records." + +"Excellent! first rate!" exclaimed the Bonze. And at the conclusion of +these words, the two men parted, each going his own way, and no trace +was again seen of them. + +"These two men," Shih-yin then pondered within his heart, "must have had +many experiences, and I ought really to have made more inquiries of +them; but at this juncture to indulge in regret is anyhow too late." + +While Shih-yin gave way to these foolish reflections, he suddenly +noticed the arrival of a penniless scholar, Chia by surname, Hua by +name, Shih-fei by style and Yue-ts'un by nickname, who had taken up his +quarters in the Gourd temple next door. This Chia Yue-ts'un was +originally a denizen of Hu-Chow, and was also of literary and official +parentage, but as he was born of the youngest stock, and the possessions +of his paternal and maternal ancestors were completely exhausted, and +his parents and relatives were dead, he remained the sole and only +survivor; and, as he found his residence in his native place of no +avail, he therefore entered the capital in search of that reputation, +which would enable him to put the family estate on a proper standing. He +had arrived at this place since the year before last, and had, what is +more, lived all along in very straitened circumstances. He had made the +temple his temporary quarters, and earned a living by daily occupying +himself in composing documents and writing letters for customers. Thus +it was that Shih-yin had been in constant relations with him. + +As soon as Yue-ts'un perceived Shih-yin, he lost no time in saluting him. +"My worthy Sir," he observed with a forced smile; "how is it you are +leaning against the door and looking out? Is there perchance any news +astir in the streets, or in the public places?" + +"None whatever," replied Shih-yin, as he returned the smile. "Just a +while back, my young daughter was in sobs, and I coaxed her out here to +amuse her. I am just now without anything whatever to attend to, so +that, dear brother Chia, you come just in the nick of time. Please walk +into my mean abode, and let us endeavour, in each other's company, to +while away this long summer day." + +After he had made this remark, he bade a servant take his daughter in, +while he, hand-in-hand with Yue-ts'un, walked into the library, where a +young page served tea. They had hardly exchanged a few sentences, when +one of the household came in, in flying haste, to announce that Mr. Yen +had come to pay a visit. + +Shih-yin at once stood up. "Pray excuse my rudeness," he remarked +apologetically, "but do sit down; I shall shortly rejoin you, and enjoy +the pleasure of your society." "My dear Sir," answered Yue-ts'un, as he +got up, also in a conceding way, "suit your own convenience. I've often +had the honour of being your guest, and what will it matter if I wait a +little?" While these apologies were yet being spoken, Shih-yin had +already walked out into the front parlour. During his absence, Yue-ts'un +occupied himself in turning over the pages of some poetical work to +dispel ennui, when suddenly he heard, outside the window, a woman's +cough. Yue-ts'un hurriedly got up and looked out. He saw at a glance that +it was a servant girl engaged in picking flowers. Her deportment was out +of the common; her eyes so bright, her eyebrows so well defined. Though +not a perfect beauty, she possessed nevertheless charms sufficient to +arouse the feelings. Yue-ts'un unwittingly gazed at her with fixed eye. +This waiting-maid, belonging to the Chen family, had done picking +flowers, and was on the point of going in, when she of a sudden raised +her eyes and became aware of the presence of some person inside the +window, whose head-gear consisted of a turban in tatters, while his +clothes were the worse for wear. But in spite of his poverty, he was +naturally endowed with a round waist, a broad back, a fat face, a square +mouth; added to this, his eyebrows were swordlike, his eyes resembled +stars, his nose was straight, his cheeks square. + +This servant girl turned away in a hurry and made her escape. + +"This man so burly and strong," she communed within herself, "yet at the +same time got up in such poor attire, must, I expect, be no one else +than the man, whose name is Chia Yue-ts'un or such like, time after time +referred to by my master, and to whom he has repeatedly wished to give a +helping hand, but has failed to find a favourable opportunity. And as +related to our family there is no connexion or friend in such straits, I +feel certain it cannot be any other person than he. Strange to say, my +master has further remarked that this man will, for a certainty, not +always continue in such a state of destitution." + +As she indulged in this train of thought, she could not restrain herself +from turning her head round once or twice. + +When Yue-ts'un perceived that she had looked back, he readily interpreted +it as a sign that in her heart her thoughts had been of him, and he was +frantic with irrepressible joy. + +"This girl," he mused, "is, no doubt, keen-eyed and eminently shrewd, +and one in this world who has seen through me." + +The servant youth, after a short time, came into the room; and when +Yue-ts'un made inquiries and found out from him that the guests in the +front parlour had been detained to dinner, he could not very well wait +any longer, and promptly walked away down a side passage and out of a +back door. + +When the guests had taken their leave, Shih-yin did not go back to +rejoin Yue-ts'un, as he had come to know that he had already left. + +In time the mid-autumn festivities drew near; and Shih-yin, after the +family banquet was over, had a separate table laid in the library, and +crossed over, in the moonlight, as far as the temple and invited +Yue-ts'un to come round. + +The fact is that Yue-ts'un, ever since the day on which he had seen the +girl of the Chen family turn twice round to glance at him, flattered +himself that she was friendly disposed towards him, and incessantly +fostered fond thoughts of her in his heart. And on this day, which +happened to be the mid-autumn feast, he could not, as he gazed at the +moon, refrain from cherishing her remembrance. Hence it was that he gave +vent to these pentameter verses: + + Alas! not yet divined my lifelong wish, + And anguish ceaseless comes upon anguish + I came, and sad at heart, my brow I frowned; + She went, and oft her head to look turned round. + Facing the breeze, her shadow she doth watch, + Who's meet this moonlight night with her to match? + The lustrous rays if they my wish but read + Would soon alight upon her beauteous head! + +Yue-ts'un having, after this recitation, recalled again to mind how that +throughout his lifetime his literary attainments had had an adverse fate +and not met with an opportunity (of reaping distinction), went on to rub +his brow, and as he raised his eyes to the skies, he heaved a deep sigh +and once more intoned a couplet aloud: + + The gem in the cask a high price it seeks, + The pin in the case to take wing it waits. + +As luck would have it, Shih-yin was at the moment approaching, and upon +hearing the lines, he said with a smile: "My dear Yue-ts'un, really your +attainments are of no ordinary capacity." + +Yue-ts'un lost no time in smiling and replying. "It would be presumption +in my part to think so," he observed. "I was simply at random humming a +few verses composed by former writers, and what reason is there to laud +me to such an excessive degree? To what, my dear Sir, do I owe the +pleasure of your visit?" he went on to inquire. "Tonight," replied +Shih-yin, "is the mid-autumn feast, generally known as the full-moon +festival; and as I could not help thinking that living, as you my worthy +brother are, as a mere stranger in this Buddhist temple, you could not +but experience the feeling of loneliness. I have, for the express +purpose, prepared a small entertainment, and will be pleased if you will +come to my mean abode to have a glass of wine. But I wonder whether you +will entertain favourably my modest invitation?" Yue-ts'un, after +listening to the proposal, put forward no refusal of any sort; but +remarked complacently: "Being the recipient of such marked attention, +how can I presume to repel your generous consideration?" + +As he gave expression to these words, he walked off there and then, in +company with Shih-yin, and came over once again into the court in front +of the library. In a few minutes, tea was over. + +The cups and dishes had been laid from an early hour, and needless to +say the wines were luscious; the fare sumptuous. + +The two friends took their seats. At first they leisurely replenished +their glasses, and quietly sipped their wine; but as, little by little, +they entered into conversation, their good cheer grew more genial, and +unawares the glasses began to fly round, and the cups to be exchanged. + +At this very hour, in every house of the neighbourhood, sounded the fife +and lute, while the inmates indulged in music and singing. Above head, +the orb of the radiant moon shone with an all-pervading splendour, and +with a steady lustrous light, while the two friends, as their exuberance +increased, drained their cups dry so soon as they reached their lips. + +Yue-ts'un, at this stage of the collation, was considerably under the +influence of wine, and the vehemence of his high spirits was +irrepressible. As he gazed at the moon, he fostered thoughts, to which +he gave vent by the recital of a double couplet. + + 'Tis what time three meets five, Selene is a globe! + Her pure rays fill the court, the jadelike rails enrobe! + Lo! in the heavens her disk to view doth now arise, + And in the earth below to gaze men lift their eyes. + +"Excellent!" cried Shih-yin with a loud voice, after he had heard these +lines; "I have repeatedly maintained that it was impossible for you to +remain long inferior to any, and now the verses you have recited are a +prognostic of your rapid advancement. Already it is evident that, before +long, you will extend your footsteps far above the clouds! I must +congratulate you! I must congratulate you! Let me, with my own hands, +pour a glass of wine to pay you my compliments." + +Yue-ts'un drained the cup. "What I am about to say," he explained as he +suddenly heaved a sigh, "is not the maudlin talk of a man under the +effects of wine. As far as the subjects at present set in the +examinations go, I could, perchance, also have well been able to enter +the list, and to send in my name as a candidate; but I have, just now, +no means whatever to make provision for luggage and for travelling +expenses. The distance too to Shen Ching is a long one, and I could not +depend upon the sale of papers or the composition of essays to find the +means of getting there." + +Shih-yin gave him no time to conclude. "Why did you not speak about this +sooner?" he interposed with haste. "I have long entertained this +suspicion; but as, whenever I met you, this conversation was never +broached, I did not presume to make myself officious. But if such be the +state of affairs just now, I lack, I admit, literary qualification, but +on the two subjects of friendly spirit and pecuniary means, I have, +nevertheless, some experience. Moreover, I rejoice that next year is +just the season for the triennial examinations, and you should start for +the capital with all despatch; and in the tripos next spring, you will, +by carrying the prize, be able to do justice to the proficiency you can +boast of. As regards the travelling expenses and the other items, the +provision of everything necessary for you by my own self will again not +render nugatory your mean acquaintance with me." + +Forthwith, he directed a servant lad to go and pack up at once fifty +taels of pure silver and two suits of winter clothes. + +"The nineteenth," he continued, "is a propitious day, and you should +lose no time in hiring a boat and starting on your journey westwards. +And when, by your eminent talents, you shall have soared high to a lofty +position, and we meet again next winter, will not the occasion be +extremely felicitous?" + +Yue-ts'un accepted the money and clothes with but scanty expression of +gratitude. In fact, he paid no thought whatever to the gifts, but went +on, again drinking his wine, as he chattered and laughed. + +It was only when the third watch of that day had already struck that the +two friends parted company; and Shih-yin, after seeing Yue-ts'un off, +retired to his room and slept, with one sleep all through, never waking +until the sun was well up in the skies. + +Remembering the occurrence of the previous night, he meant to write a +couple of letters of recommendation for Yue-ts'un to take along with him +to the capital, to enable him, after handing them over at the mansions +of certain officials, to find some place as a temporary home. He +accordingly despatched a servant to ask him to come round, but the man +returned and reported that from what the bonze said, "Mr. Chia had +started on his journey to the capital, at the fifth watch of that very +morning, that he had also left a message with the bonze to deliver to +you, Sir, to the effect that men of letters paid no heed to lucky or +unlucky days, that the sole consideration with them was the nature of +the matter in hand, and that he could find no time to come round in +person and bid good-bye." + +Shih-yin after hearing this message had no alternative but to banish the +subject from his thoughts. + +In comfortable circumstances, time indeed goes by with easy stride. Soon +drew near also the happy festival of the 15th of the 1st moon, and +Shih-yin told a servant Huo Ch'i to take Ying Lien to see the +sacrificial fires and flowery lanterns. + +About the middle of the night, Huo Ch'i was hard pressed, and he +forthwith set Ying Lien down on the doorstep of a certain house. When he +felt relieved, he came back to take her up, but failed to find anywhere +any trace of Ying Lien. In a terrible plight, Huo Ch'i prosecuted his +search throughout half the night; but even by the dawn of day, he had +not discovered any clue of her whereabouts. Huo Ch'i, lacking, on the +other hand, the courage to go back and face his master, promptly made +his escape to his native village. + +Shih-yin--in fact, the husband as well as the wife--seeing that their +child had not come home during the whole night, readily concluded that +some mishap must have befallen her. Hastily they despatched several +servants to go in search of her, but one and all returned to report that +there was neither vestige nor tidings of her. + +This couple had only had this child, and this at the meridian of their +life, so that her sudden disappearance plunged them in such great +distress that day and night they mourned her loss to such a point as to +well nigh pay no heed to their very lives. + +A month in no time went by. Shih-yin was the first to fall ill, and his +wife, Dame Feng, likewise, by dint of fretting for her daughter, was +also prostrated with sickness. The doctor was, day after day, sent for, +and the oracle consulted by means of divination. + +Little did any one think that on this day, being the 15th of the 3rd +moon, while the sacrificial oblations were being prepared in the Hu Lu +temple, a pan with oil would have caught fire, through the want of care +on the part of the bonze, and that in a short time the flames would have +consumed the paper pasted on the windows. + +Among the natives of this district bamboo fences and wooden partitions +were in general use, and these too proved a source of calamity so +ordained by fate (to consummate this decree). + +With promptness (the fire) extended to two buildings, then enveloped +three, then dragged four (into ruin), and then spread to five houses, +until the whole street was in a blaze, resembling the flames of a +volcano. Though both the military and the people at once ran to the +rescue, the fire had already assumed a serious hold, so that it was +impossible for them to afford any effective assistance for its +suppression. + +It blazed away straight through the night, before it was extinguished, +and consumed, there is in fact no saying how many dwelling houses. +Anyhow, pitiful to relate, the Chen house, situated as it was next door +to the temple, was, at an early part of the evening, reduced to a heap +of tiles and bricks; and nothing but the lives of that couple and +several inmates of the family did not sustain any injuries. + +Shih-yin was in despair, but all he could do was to stamp his feet and +heave deep sighs. After consulting with his wife, they betook themselves +to a farm of theirs, where they took up their quarters temporarily. But +as it happened that water had of late years been scarce, and no crops +been reaped, robbers and thieves had sprung up like bees, and though the +Government troops were bent upon their capture, it was anyhow difficult +to settle down quietly on the farm. He therefore had no other resource +than to convert, at a loss, the whole of his property into money, and to +take his wife and two servant girls and come over for shelter to the +house of his father-in-law. + +His father-in-law, Feng Su, by name, was a native of Ta Ju Chou. +Although only a labourer, he was nevertheless in easy circumstances at +home. When he on this occasion saw his son-in-law come to him in such +distress, he forthwith felt at heart considerable displeasure. +Fortunately Shih-yin had still in his possession the money derived from +the unprofitable realization of his property, so that he produced and +handed it to his father-in-law, commissioning him to purchase, whenever +a suitable opportunity presented itself, a house and land as a provision +for food and raiment against days to come. This Feng Su, however, only +expended the half of the sum, and pocketed the other half, merely +acquiring for him some fallow land and a dilapidated house. + +Shih-yin being, on the other hand, a man of books and with no experience +in matters connected with business and with sowing and reaping, +subsisted, by hook and by crook, for about a year or two, when he became +more impoverished. + +In his presence, Feng Su would readily give vent to specious utterances, +while, with others, and behind his back, he on the contrary expressed +his indignation against his improvidence in his mode of living, and +against his sole delight of eating and playing the lazy. + +Shih-yin, aware of the want of harmony with his father-in-law, could not +help giving way, in his own heart, to feelings of regret and pain. In +addition to this, the fright and vexation which he had undergone the +year before, the anguish and suffering (he had had to endure), had +already worked havoc (on his constitution); and being a man advanced in +years, and assailed by the joint attack of poverty and disease, he at +length gradually began to display symptoms of decline. + +Strange coincidence, as he, on this day, came leaning on his staff and +with considerable strain, as far as the street for a little relaxation, +he suddenly caught sight, approaching from the off side, of a Taoist +priest with a crippled foot; his maniac appearance so repulsive, his +shoes of straw, his dress all in tatters, muttering several sentiments +to this effect: + + All men spiritual life know to be good, + But fame to disregard they ne'er succeed! + From old till now the statesmen where are they? + Waste lie their graves, a heap of grass, extinct. + All men spiritual life know to be good, + But to forget gold, silver, ill succeed! + Through life they grudge their hoardings to be scant, + And when plenty has come, their eyelids close. + All men spiritual life hold to be good, + Yet to forget wives, maids, they ne'er succeed! + Who speak of grateful love while lives their lord, + And dead their lord, another they pursue. + All men spiritual life know to be good, + But sons and grandsons to forget never succeed! + From old till now of parents soft many, + But filial sons and grandsons who have seen? + +Shih-yin upon hearing these words, hastily came up to the priest, "What +were you so glibly holding forth?" he inquired. "All I could hear were a +lot of hao liao (excellent, finality.") + +"You may well have heard the two words 'hao liao,'" answered the Taoist +with a smile, "but can you be said to have fathomed their meaning? You +should know that all things in this world are excellent, when they have +attained finality; when they have attained finality, they are excellent; +but when they have not attained finality, they are not excellent; if +they would be excellent, they should attain finality. My song is +entitled Excellent-finality (hao liao)." + +Shih-yin was gifted with a natural perspicacity that enabled him, as +soon as he heard these remarks, to grasp their spirit. + +"Wait a while," he therefore said smilingly; "let me unravel this +excellent-finality song of yours; do you mind?" + +"Please by all means go on with the interpretation," urged the Taoist; +whereupon Shih-yin proceeded in this strain: + + Sordid rooms and vacant courts, + Replete in years gone by with beds where statesmen lay; + Parched grass and withered banian trees, + Where once were halls for song and dance! + Spiders' webs the carved pillars intertwine, + The green gauze now is also pasted on the straw windows! + What about the cosmetic fresh concocted or the powder just scented; + Why has the hair too on each temple become white like hoarfrost! + Yesterday the tumulus of yellow earth buried the bleached bones, + To-night under the red silk curtain reclines the couple! + Gold fills the coffers, silver fills the boxes, + But in a twinkle, the beggars will all abuse you! + While you deplore that the life of others is not long, + You forget that you yourself are approaching death! + You educate your sons with all propriety, + But they may some day, 'tis hard to say become thieves; + Though you choose (your fare and home) the fatted beam, + You may, who can say, fall into some place of easy virtue! + Through your dislike of the gauze hat as mean, + You have come to be locked in a cangue; + Yesterday, poor fellow, you felt cold in a tattered coat, + To-day, you despise the purple embroidered dress as long! + Confusion reigns far and wide! you have just sung your part, I come on + the boards, + Instead of yours, you recognise another as your native land; + What utter perversion! + In one word, it comes to this we make wedding clothes for others! + (We sow for others to reap.) + +The crazy limping Taoist clapped his hands. "Your interpretation is +explicit," he remarked with a hearty laugh, "your interpretation is +explicit!" + +Shih-yin promptly said nothing more than,--"Walk on;" and seizing the +stole from the Taoist's shoulder, he flung it over his own. He did not, +however, return home, but leisurely walked away, in company with the +eccentric priest. + +The report of his disappearance was at once bruited abroad, and plunged +the whole neighbourhood in commotion; and converted into a piece of +news, it was circulated from mouth to mouth. + +Dame Feng, Shih-yin's wife, upon hearing the tidings, had such a fit of +weeping that she hung between life and death; but her only alternative +was to consult with her father, and to despatch servants on all sides to +institute inquiries. No news was however received of him, and she had +nothing else to do but to practise resignation, and to remain dependent +upon the support of her parents for her subsistence. She had fortunately +still by her side, to wait upon her, two servant girls, who had been +with her in days gone by; and the three of them, mistress as well as +servants, occupied themselves day and night with needlework, to assist +her father in his daily expenses. + +This Feng Su had after all, in spite of his daily murmurings against his +bad luck, no help but to submit to the inevitable. + +On a certain day, the elder servant girl of the Chen family was at the +door purchasing thread, and while there, she of a sudden heard in the +street shouts of runners clearing the way, and every one explain that +the new magistrate had come to take up his office. + +The girl, as she peeped out from inside the door, perceived the lictors +and policemen go by two by two; and when unexpectedly in a state chair, +was carried past an official, in black hat and red coat, she was indeed +quite taken aback. + +"The face of this officer would seem familiar," she argued within +herself; "just as if I had seen him somewhere or other ere this." + +Shortly she entered the house, and banishing at once the occurrence from +her mind, she did not give it a second thought. At night, however, while +she was waiting to go to bed, she suddenly heard a sound like a rap at +the door. A band of men boisterously cried out: "We are messengers, +deputed by the worthy magistrate of this district, and come to summon +one of you to an enquiry." + +Feng Su, upon hearing these words, fell into such a terrible +consternation that his eyes stared wide and his mouth gaped. + +What calamity was impending is not as yet ascertained, but, reader, +listen to the explanation contained in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + The spirit of Mrs. Chia Shih-yin departs from the town of Yang Chou. + Leng Tzu-hsing dilates upon the Jung Kuo Mansion. + + +To continue. Feng Su, upon hearing the shouts of the public messengers, +came out in a flurry and forcing a smile, he asked them to explain +(their errand); but all these people did was to continue bawling out: +"Be quick, and ask Mr. Chen to come out." + +"My surname is Feng," said Feng Su, as he promptly forced himself to +smile; "It is'nt Chen at all: I had once a son-in-law whose surname was +Chen, but he has left home, it is now already a year or two back. Is it +perchance about him that you are inquiring?" + +To which the public servants remarked: "We know nothing about Chen or +Chia (true or false); but as he is your son-in-law, we'll take you at +once along with us to make verbal answer to our master and have done +with it." + +And forthwith the whole bevy of public servants hustled Feng Su on, as +they went on their way back; while every one in the Feng family was +seized with consternation, and could not imagine what it was all about. + +It was no earlier than the second watch, when Feng Su returned home; and +they, one and all, pressed him with questions as to what had happened. + +"The fact is," he explained, "the newly-appointed Magistrate, whose +surname is Chia, whose name is Huo and who is a native of Hu-chow, has +been on intimate terms, in years gone by, with our son-in-law; that at +the sight of the girl Chiao Hsing, standing at the door, in the act of +buying thread, he concluded that he must have shifted his quarters over +here, and hence it was that his messengers came to fetch him. I gave him +a clear account of the various circumstances (of his misfortunes), and +the Magistrate was for a time much distressed and expressed his regret. +He then went on to make inquiries about my grand-daughter, and I +explained that she had been lost, while looking at the illuminations. +'No matter,' put in the Magistrate, 'I will by and by order my men to +make search, and I feel certain that they will find her and bring her +back.' Then ensued a short conversation, after which I was about to go, +when he presented me with the sum of two taels." + +The mistress of the Chen family (Mrs. Chen Shih-yin) could not but feel +very much affected by what she heard, and the whole evening she uttered +not a word. + +The next day, at an early hour, Yue-ts'un sent some of his men to bring +over to Chen's wife presents, consisting of two packets of silver, and +four pieces of brocaded silk, as a token of gratitude, and to Feng Su +also a confidential letter, requesting him to ask of Mrs. Chen her maid +Chiao Hsing to become his second wife. + +Feng Su was so intensely delighted that his eyebrows expanded, his eyes +smiled, and he felt eager to toady to the Magistrate (by presenting the +girl to him). He hastened to employ all his persuasive powers with his +daughter (to further his purpose), and on the same evening he forthwith +escorted Chiao Hsing in a small chair to the Yamen. + +The joy experienced by Yue-ts'un need not be dilated upon. He also +presented Feng Su with a packet containing one hundred ounces of gold; +and sent numerous valuable presents to Mrs. Chen, enjoining her "to live +cheerfully in the anticipation of finding out the whereabouts of her +daughter." + +It must be explained, however, that the maid Chi'ao Hsing was the very +person, who, a few years ago, had looked round at Yue-ts'un and who, by +one simple, unpremeditated glance, evolved, in fact, this extraordinary +destiny which was indeed an event beyond conception. + +Who would ever have foreseen that fate and fortune would both have so +favoured her that she should, contrary to all anticipation, give birth +to a son, after living with Yue-ts'un barely a year, that in addition to +this, after the lapse of another half year, Yue-ts'un's wife should have +contracted a sudden illness and departed this life, and that Yue-ts'un +should have at once raised her to the rank of first wife. Her destiny is +adequately expressed by the lines: + + Through but one single, casual look + Soon an exalted place she took. + +The fact is that after Yue-ts'un had been presented with the money by +Shih-yin, he promptly started on the 16th day for the capital, and at +the triennial great tripos, his wishes were gratified to the full. +Having successfully carried off his degree of graduate of the third +rank, his name was put by selection on the list for provincial +appointments. By this time, he had been raised to the rank of Magistrate +in this district; but, in spite of the excellence and sufficiency of his +accomplishments and abilities, he could not escape being ambitious and +overbearing. He failed besides, confident as he was in his own merits, +in respect toward his superiors, with the result that these officials +looked upon him scornfully with the corner of the eye. + +A year had hardly elapsed, when he was readily denounced in a memorial +to the Throne by the High Provincial authorities, who represented that +he was of a haughty disposition, that he had taken upon himself to +introduce innovations in the rites and ceremonies, that overtly, while +he endeavoured to enjoy the reputation of probity and uprightness, he, +secretly, combined the nature of the tiger and wolf; with the +consequence that he had been the cause of much trouble in the district, +and that he had made life intolerable for the people, &c. &c. + +The Dragon countenance of the Emperor was considerably incensed. His +Majesty lost no time in issuing commands, in reply to the Memorial, that +he should be deprived of his official status. + +On the arrival of the despatch from the Board, great was the joy felt by +every officer, without exception, of the prefecture in which he had held +office. Yue-ts'un, though at heart intensely mortified and incensed, +betrayed not the least outward symptom of annoyance, but still +preserved, as of old, a smiling and cheerful countenance. + +He handed over charge of all official business and removed the savings +which he had accumulated during the several years he had been in office, +his family and all his chattels to his original home; where, after +having put everything in proper order, he himself travelled (carried the +winds and sleeved the moon) far and wide, visiting every relic of note +in the whole Empire. + +As luck would have it, on a certain day while making a second journey +through the Wei Yang district, he heard the news that the Salt +Commissioner appointed this year was Lin Ju-hai. This Lin Ju-hai's +family name was Lin, his name Hai and his style Ju-hai. He had obtained +the third place in the previous triennial examination, and had, by this +time, already risen to the rank of Director of the Court of Censors. He +was a native of Ku Su. He had been recently named by Imperial +appointment a Censor attached to the Salt Inspectorate, and had arrived +at his post only a short while back. + +In fact, the ancestors of Lin Ju-hai had, from years back, successively +inherited the title of Marquis, which rank, by its present descent to +Ju-hai, had already been enjoyed by five generations. When first +conferred, the hereditary right to the title had been limited to three +generations; but of late years, by an act of magnanimous favour and +generous beneficence, extraordinary bounty had been superadded; and on +the arrival of the succession to the father of Ju-hai, the right had +been extended to another degree. It had now descended to Ju-hai, who +had, besides this title of nobility, begun his career as a successful +graduate. But though his family had been through uninterrupted ages the +recipient of imperial bounties, his kindred had all been anyhow men of +culture. + +The only misfortune had been that the several branches of the Lin family +had not been prolific, so that the numbers of its members continued +limited; and though there existed several households, they were all +however to Ju-hai no closer relatives than first cousins. Neither were +there any connections of the same lineage, or of the same parentage. + +Ju-hai was at this date past forty; and had only had a son, who had died +the previous year, in the third year of his age. Though he had several +handmaids, he had not had the good fortune of having another son; but +this was too a matter that could not be remedied. + +By his wife, nee Chia, he had a daughter, to whom the infant name of Tai +Yue was given. She was, at this time, in her fifth year. Upon her the +parents doated as much as if she were a brilliant pearl in the palm of +their hand. Seeing that she was endowed with natural gifts of +intelligence and good looks, they also felt solicitous to bestow upon +her a certain knowledge of books, with no other purpose than that of +satisfying, by this illusory way, their wishes of having a son to +nurture and of dispelling the anguish felt by them, on account of the +desolation and void in their family circle (round their knees). + +But to proceed. Yue-ts'un, while sojourning at an inn, was unexpectedly +laid up with a violent chill. Finding on his recovery, that his funds +were not sufficient to pay his expenses, he was thinking of looking out +for some house where he could find a resting place when he suddenly came +across two friends acquainted with the new Salt Commissioner. Knowing +that this official was desirous to find a tutor to instruct his +daughter, they lost no time in recommending Yue-ts'un, who moved into the +Yamen. + +His female pupil was youthful in years and delicate in physique, so that +her lessons were irregular. Besides herself, there were only two waiting +girls, who remained in attendance during the hours of study, so that +Yue-ts'un was spared considerable trouble and had a suitable opportunity +to attend to the improvement of his health. + +In a twinkle, another year and more slipped by, and when least expected, +the mother of his ward, nee Chia, was carried away after a short +illness. His pupil (during her mother's sickness) was dutiful in her +attendance, and prepared the medicines for her use. (And after her +death,) she went into the deepest mourning prescribed by the rites, and +gave way to such excess of grief that, naturally delicate as she was, +her old complaint, on this account, broke out anew. + +Being unable for a considerable time to prosecute her studies, Yue-ts'un +lived at leisure and had no duties to attend to. Whenever therefore the +wind was genial and the sun mild, he was wont to stroll at random, after +he had done with his meals. + +On this particular day, he, by some accident, extended his walk beyond +the suburbs, and desirous to contemplate the nature of the rustic +scenery, he, with listless step, came up to a spot encircled by hills +and streaming pools, by luxuriant clumps of trees and thick groves of +bamboos. Nestling in the dense foliage stood a temple. The doors and +courts were in ruins. The walls, inner and outer, in disrepair. An +inscription on a tablet testified that this was the temple of Spiritual +Perception. On the sides of the door was also a pair of old and +dilapidated scrolls with the following enigmatical verses. + + Behind ample there is, yet to retract the hand, the mind heeds not, + until. + Before the mortal vision lies no path, when comes to turn the will. + +"These two sentences," Yue-ts'un pondered after perusal, "although simple +in language, are profound in signification. I have previous to this +visited many a spacious temple, located on hills of note, but never have +I beheld an inscription referring to anything of the kind. The meaning +contained in these words must, I feel certain, owe their origin to the +experiences of some person or other; but there's no saying. But why +should I not go in and inquire for myself?" + +Upon walking in, he at a glance caught sight of no one else, but of a +very aged bonze, of unkempt appearance, cooking his rice. When Yue-ts'un +perceived that he paid no notice, he went up to him and asked him one or +two questions, but as the old priest was dull of hearing and a dotard, +and as he had lost his teeth, and his tongue was blunt, he made most +irrelevant replies. + +Yue-ts'un lost all patience with him, and withdrew again from the +compound with the intention of going as far as the village public house +to have a drink or two, so as to enhance the enjoyment of the rustic +scenery. With easy stride, he accordingly walked up to the place. +Scarcely had he passed the threshold of the public house, when he +perceived some one or other among the visitors who had been sitting +sipping their wine on the divan, jump up and come up to greet him, with +a face beaming with laughter. + +"What a strange meeting! What a strange meeting!" he exclaimed aloud. + +Yue-ts'un speedily looked at him, (and remembered) that this person had, +in past days, carried on business in a curio establishment in the +capital, and that his surname was Leng and his style Tzu-hsing. + +A mutual friendship had existed between them during their sojourn, in +days of yore, in the capital; and as Yue-ts'un had entertained the +highest opinion of Leng Tzu-hsing, as being a man of action and of great +abilities, while this Leng Tzu-hsing, on the other hand, borrowed of the +reputation of refinement enjoyed by Yue-ts'un, the two had consequently +all along lived in perfect harmony and companionship. + +"When did you get here?" Yue-ts'un eagerly inquired also smilingly. "I +wasn't in the least aware of your arrival. This unexpected meeting is +positively a strange piece of good fortune." + +"I went home," Tzu-hsing replied, "about the close of last year, but now +as I am again bound to the capital, I passed through here on my way to +look up a friend of mine and talk some matters over. He had the kindness +to press me to stay with him for a couple of days longer, and as I after +all have no urgent business to attend to, I am tarrying a few days, but +purpose starting about the middle of the moon. My friend is busy to-day, +so I roamed listlessly as far as here, never dreaming of such a +fortunate meeting." + +While speaking, he made Yue-ts'un sit down at the same table, and ordered +a fresh supply of wine and eatables; and as the two friends chatted of +one thing and another, they slowly sipped their wine. + +The conversation ran on what had occurred after the separation, and +Yue-ts'un inquired, "Is there any news of any kind in the capital?" + +"There's nothing new whatever," answered Tzu-hsing. "There is one thing +however: in the family of one of your worthy kinsmen, of the same name +as yourself, a trifling, but yet remarkable, occurrence has taken +place." + +"None of my kindred reside in the capital," rejoined Yue-ts'un with a +smile. "To what can you be alluding?" + +"How can it be that you people who have the same surname do not belong +to one clan?" remarked Tzu-hsing, sarcastically. + +"In whose family?" inquired Yue-ts'un. + +"The Chia family," replied Tzu-hsing smiling, "whose quarters are in the +Jung Kuo Mansion, does not after all reflect discredit upon the lintel +of your door, my venerable friend." + +"What!" exclaimed Yue-ts'un, "did this affair take place in that family? +Were we to begin reckoning, we would find the members of my clan to be +anything but limited in number. Since the time of our ancestor Chia Fu, +who lived while the Eastern Han dynasty occupied the Throne, the +branches of our family have been numerous and flourishing; they are now +to be found in every single province, and who could, with any accuracy, +ascertain their whereabouts? As regards the Jung-kuo branch in +particular, their names are in fact inscribed on the same register as +our own, but rich and exalted as they are, we have never presumed to +claim them as our relatives, so that we have become more and more +estranged." + +"Don't make any such assertions," Tzu-hsing remarked with a sigh, "the +present two mansions of Jung and Ning have both alike also suffered +reverses, and they cannot come up to their state of days of yore." + +"Up to this day, these two households of Ning and of Jung," Yue-ts'un +suggested, "still maintain a very large retinue of people, and how can +it be that they have met with reverses?" + +"To explain this would be indeed a long story," said Leng Tzu-hsing. +"Last year," continued Yue-ts'un, "I arrived at Chin Ling, as I +entertained a wish to visit the remains of interest of the six +dynasties, and as I on that day entered the walled town of Shih T'ou, I +passed by the entrance of that old residence. On the east side of the +street, stood the Ning Kuo mansion; on the west the Jung Kuo mansion; +and these two, adjoining each other as they do, cover in fact well-nigh +half of the whole length of the street. Outside the front gate +everything was, it is true, lonely and deserted; but at a glance into +the interior over the enclosing wall, I perceived that the halls, +pavilions, two-storied structures and porches presented still a majestic +and lofty appearance. Even the flower garden, which extends over the +whole area of the back grounds, with its trees and rockeries, also +possessed to that day an air of luxuriance and freshness, which betrayed +no signs of a ruined or decrepid establishment." + +"You have had the good fortune of starting in life as a graduate," +explained Tzu-tsing as he smiled, "and yet are not aware of the saying +uttered by some one of old: that a centipede even when dead does not lie +stiff. (These families) may, according to your version, not be up to the +prosperity of former years, but, compared with the family of an ordinary +official, their condition anyhow presents a difference. Of late the +number of the inmates has, day by day, been on the increase; their +affairs have become daily more numerous; of masters and servants, high +and low, who live in ease and respectability very many there are; but of +those who exercise any forethought, or make any provision, there is not +even one. In their daily wants, their extravagances, and their +expenditure, they are also unable to adapt themselves to circumstances +and practise economy; (so that though) the present external framework +may not have suffered any considerable collapse, their purses have +anyhow begun to feel an exhausting process! But this is a mere trifle. +There is another more serious matter. Would any one ever believe that in +such families of official status, in a clan of education and culture, +the sons and grandsons of the present age would after all be each +(succeeding) generation below the standard of the former?" + +Yue-ts'un, having listened to these remarks, observed: "How ever can it +be possible that families of such education and refinement can observe +any system of training and nurture which is not excellent? Concerning +the other branches, I am not in a position to say anything; but +restricting myself to the two mansions of Jung and Ning, they are those +in which, above all others, the education of their children is +methodical." + +"I was just now alluding to none other than these two establishments," +Tzu-hsing observed with a sigh; "but let me tell you all. In days of +yore, the duke of Ning Kuo and the duke of Jung Kuo were two uterine +brothers. The Ning duke was the elder; he had four sons. After the death +of the duke of Ning Kuo, his eldest son, Chia Tai-hua, came into the +title. He also had two sons; but the eldest, whose name was Hu, died at +the age of eight or nine; and the only survivor, the second son, Chia +Ching, inherited the title. His whole mind is at this time set upon +Taoist doctrines; his sole delight is to burn the pill and refine the +dual powers; while every other thought finds no place in his mind. +Happily, he had, at an early age, left a son, Chia Chen, behind in the +lay world, and his father, engrossed as his whole heart was with the +idea of attaining spiritual life, ceded the succession of the official +title to him. His parent is, besides, not willing to return to the +original family seat, but lives outside the walls of the capital, +foolishly hobnobbing with all the Taoist priests. This Mr. Chen had also +a son, Chia Jung, who is, at this period, just in his sixteenth year. +Mr. Ching gives at present no attention to anything at all, so that Mr. +Chen naturally devotes no time to his studies, but being bent upon +nought else but incessant high pleasure, he has subversed the order of +things in the Ning Kuo mansion, and yet no one can summon the courage to +come and hold him in check. But I'll now tell you about the Jung mansion +for your edification. The strange occurrence, to which I alluded just +now, came about in this manner. After the demise of the Jung duke, the +eldest son, Chia Tai-shan, inherited the rank. He took to himself as +wife, the daughter of Marquis Shih, a noble family of Chin Ling, by whom +he had two sons; the elder being Chia She, the younger Chia Cheng. This +Tai Shan is now dead long ago; but his wife is still alive, and the +elder son, Chia She, succeeded to the degree. He is a man of amiable and +genial disposition, but he likewise gives no thought to the direction of +any domestic concern. The second son Chia Cheng displayed, from his +early childhood, a great liking for books, and grew up to be correct and +upright in character. His grandfather doated upon him, and would have +had him start in life through the arena of public examinations, but, +when least expected, Tai-shan, being on the point of death, bequeathed a +petition, which was laid before the Emperor. His Majesty, out of regard +for his former minister, issued immediate commands that the elder son +should inherit the estate, and further inquired how many sons there were +besides him, all of whom he at once expressed a wish to be introduced in +his imperial presence. His Majesty, moreover, displayed exceptional +favour, and conferred upon Mr. Cheng the brevet rank of second class +Assistant Secretary (of a Board), and commanded him to enter the Board +to acquire the necessary experience. He has already now been promoted to +the office of second class Secretary. This Mr. Cheng's wife, nee Wang, +first gave birth to a son called Chia Chu, who became a Licentiate in +his fourteenth year. At barely twenty, he married, but fell ill and died +soon after the birth of a son. Her (Mrs. Cheng's) second child was a +daughter, who came into the world, by a strange coincidence, on the +first day of the year. She had an unexpected (pleasure) in the birth, +the succeeding year, of another son, who, still more remarkable to say, +had, at the time of his birth, a piece of variegated and crystal-like +brilliant jade in his mouth, on which were yet visible the outlines of +several characters. Now, tell me, was not this a novel and strange +occurrence? eh?" + +"Strange indeed!" exclaimed Yue-ts'un with a smile; "but I presume the +coming experiences of this being will not be mean." + +Tzu-hsing gave a faint smile. "One and all," he remarked, "entertain the +same idea. Hence it is that his mother doats upon him like upon a +precious jewel. On the day of his first birthday, Mr. Cheng readily +entertained a wish to put the bent of his inclinations to the test, and +placed before the child all kinds of things, without number, for him to +grasp from. Contrary to every expectation, he scorned every other +object, and, stretching forth his hand, he simply took hold of rouge, +powder and a few hair-pins, with which he began to play. Mr. Cheng +experienced at once displeasure, as he maintained that this youth would, +by and bye, grow up into a sybarite, devoted to wine and women, and for +this reason it is, that he soon began to feel not much attachment for +him. But his grandmother is the one who, in spite of everything, prizes +him like the breath of her own life. The very mention of what happened +is even strange! He is now grown up to be seven or eight years old, and, +although exceptionally wilful, in intelligence and precocity, however, +not one in a hundred could come up to him! And as for the utterances of +this child, they are no less remarkable. The bones and flesh of woman, +he argues, are made of water, while those of man of mud. 'Women to my +eyes are pure and pleasing,' he says, 'while at the sight of man, I +readily feel how corrupt, foul and repelling they are!' Now tell me, are +not these words ridiculous? There can be no doubt whatever that he will +by and bye turn out to be a licentious roue." + +Yue-ts'un, whose countenance suddenly assumed a stern air, promptly +interrupted the conversation. "It doesn't quite follow," he suggested. +"You people don't, I regret to say, understand the destiny of this +child. The fact is that even the old Hanlin scholar Mr. Cheng was +erroneously looked upon as a loose rake and dissolute debauchee! But +unless a person, through much study of books and knowledge of letters, +so increases (in lore) as to attain the talent of discerning the nature +of things, and the vigour of mind to fathom the Taoist reason as well as +to comprehend the first principle, he is not in a position to form any +judgment." + +Tzu-hsing upon perceiving the weighty import of what he propounded, +"Please explain," he asked hastily, "the drift (of your argument)." To +which Yue-ts'un responded: "Of the human beings created by the operation +of heaven and earth, if we exclude those who are gifted with extreme +benevolence and extreme viciousness, the rest, for the most part, +present no striking diversity. If they be extremely benevolent, they +fall in, at the time of their birth, with an era of propitious fortune; +while those extremely vicious correspond, at the time of their +existence, with an era of calamity. When those who coexist with +propitious fortune come into life, the world is in order; when those who +coexist with unpropitious fortune come into life, the world is in +danger. Yao, Shun, Yue, Ch'eng T'ang, Wen Wang, Wu Wang, Chou Kung, Chao +Kung, Confucius, Mencius, T'ung Hu, Han Hsin, Chou Tzu, Ch'eng Tzu, Chu +Tzu and Chang Tzu were ordained to see light in an auspicious era. +Whereas Ch'i Yu, Kung Kung, Chieh Wang, Chou Wang, Shih Huang, Wang +Mang, Tsao Ts'ao, Wen Wen, An Hu-shan, Ch'in Kuei and others were one +and all destined to come into the world during a calamitous age. Those +endowed with extreme benevolence set the world in order; those possessed +of extreme maliciousness turn the world into disorder. Purity, +intelligence, spirituality and subtlety constitute the vital spirit of +right which pervades heaven and earth, and the persons gifted with +benevolence are its natural fruit. Malignity and perversity constitute +the spirit of evil, which permeates heaven and earth, and malicious +persons are affected by its influence. The days of perpetual happiness +and eminent good fortune, and the era of perfect peace and tranquility, +which now prevail, are the offspring of the pure, intelligent, divine +and subtle spirit which ascends above, to the very Emperor, and below +reaches the rustic and uncultured classes. Every one is without +exception under its influence. The superfluity of the subtle spirit +expands far and wide, and finding nowhere to betake itself to, becomes, +in due course, transformed into dew, or gentle breeze; and, by a process +of diffusion, it pervades the whole world. + +"The spirit of malignity and perversity, unable to expand under the +brilliant sky and transmuting sun, eventually coagulates, pervades and +stops up the deep gutters and extensive caverns; and when of a sudden +the wind agitates it or it be impelled by the clouds, and any slight +disposition, on its part, supervenes to set itself in motion, or to +break its bounds, and so little as even the minutest fraction does +unexpectedly find an outlet, and happens to come across any spirit of +perception and subtlety which may be at the time passing by, the spirit +of right does not yield to the spirit of evil, and the spirit of evil is +again envious of the spirit of right, so that the two do not harmonize. +Just like wind, water, thunder and lightning, which, when they meet in +the bowels of the earth, must necessarily, as they are both to dissolve +and are likewise unable to yield, clash and explode to the end that they +may at length exhaust themselves. Hence it is that these spirits have +also forcibly to diffuse themselves into the human race to find an +outlet, so that they may then completely disperse, with the result that +men and women are suddenly imbued with these spirits and spring into +existence. At best, (these human beings) cannot be generated into +philanthropists or perfect men; at worst, they cannot also embody +extreme perversity or extreme wickedness. Yet placed among one million +beings, the spirit of intelligence, refinement, perception and subtlety +will be above these one million beings; while, on the other hand, the +perverse, depraved and inhuman embodiment will likewise be below the +million of men. Born in a noble and wealthy family, these men will be a +salacious, lustful lot; born of literary, virtuous or poor parentage, +they will turn out retired scholars or men of mark; though they may by +some accident be born in a destitute and poverty-stricken home, they +cannot possibly, in fact, ever sink so low as to become runners or +menials, or contentedly brook to be of the common herd or to be driven +and curbed like a horse in harness. They will become, for a certainty, +either actors of note or courtesans of notoriety; as instanced in former +years by Hsue Yu, T'ao Ch'ien, Yuan Chi, Chi Kang, Liu Ling, the two +families of Wang and Hsieh, Ku Hu-t'ou, Ch'en Hou-chu, T'ang Ming-huang, +Sung Hui-tsung, Liu T'ing-chih, Wen Fei-ching, Mei Nan-kung, Shih +Man-ch'ing, Lui C'hih-ch'ing and Chin Shao-yu, and exemplified +now-a-days by Ni Yuen-lin, T'ang Po-hu, Chu Chih-shan, and also by Li +Kuei-men, Huang P'an-cho, Ching Hsin-mo, Cho Wen-chuen; and the women +Hung Fu, Hsieh T'ao, Ch'ue Ying, Ch'ao Yuen and others; all of whom were +and are of the same stamp, though placed in different scenes of action." + +"From what you say," observed Tzu-hsing, "success makes (a man) a duke +or a marquis; ruin, a thief!" + +"Quite so; that's just my idea!" replied Yue-ts'un; "I've not as yet let +you know that after my degradation from office, I spent the last couple +of years in travelling for pleasure all over each province, and that I +also myself came across two extraordinary youths. This is why, when a +short while back you alluded to this Pao-yue, I at once conjectured, with +a good deal of certainty, that he must be a human being of the same +stamp. There's no need for me to speak of any farther than the walled +city of Chin Ling. This Mr. Chen was, by imperial appointment, named +Principal of the Government Public College of the Chin Ling province. Do +you perhaps know him?" + +"Who doesn't know him?" remarked Tzu-hsing. "This Chen family is an old +connection of the Chia family. These two families were on terms of great +intimacy, and I myself likewise enjoyed the pleasure of their friendship +for many a day." + +"Last year, when at Chin Ling," Yue-ts'un continued with a smile, "some +one recommended me as resident tutor to the school in the Chen mansion; +and when I moved into it I saw for myself the state of things. Who would +ever think that that household was grand and luxurious to such a degree! +But they are an affluent family, and withal full of propriety, so that a +school like this was of course not one easy to obtain. The pupil, +however, was, it is true, a young tyro, but far more troublesome to +teach than a candidate for the examination of graduate of the second +degree. Were I to enter into details, you would indeed have a laugh. 'I +must needs,' he explained, 'have the company of two girls in my studies +to enable me to read at all, and to keep likewise my brain clear. +Otherwise, if left to myself, my head gets all in a muddle.' Time after +time, he further expounded to his young attendants, how extremely +honourable and extremely pure were the two words representing woman, +that they are more valuable and precious than the auspicious animal, the +felicitous bird, rare flowers and uncommon plants. 'You may not' (he was +wont to say), 'on any account heedlessly utter them, you set of foul +mouths and filthy tongues! these two words are of the utmost import! +Whenever you have occasion to allude to them, you must, before you can +do so with impunity, take pure water and scented tea and rinse your +mouths. In the event of any slip of the tongue, I shall at once have +your teeth extracted, and your eyes gouged out.' His obstinacy and +waywardness are, in every respect, out of the common. After he was +allowed to leave school, and to return home, he became, at the sight of +the young ladies, so tractable, gentle, sharp, and polite, transformed, +in fact, like one of them. And though, for this reason, his father has +punished him on more than one occasion, by giving him a sound thrashing, +such as brought him to the verge of death, he cannot however change. +Whenever he was being beaten, and could no more endure the pain, he was +wont to promptly break forth in promiscuous loud shouts, 'Girls! girls!' +The young ladies, who heard him from the inner chambers, subsequently +made fun of him. 'Why,' they said, 'when you are being thrashed, and you +are in pain, your only thought is to bawl out girls! Is it perchance +that you expect us young ladies to go and intercede for you? How is that +you have no sense of shame?' To their taunts he gave a most plausible +explanation. 'Once,' he replied, 'when in the agony of pain, I gave vent +to shouting girls, in the hope, perchance, I did not then know, of its +being able to alleviate the soreness. After I had, with this purpose, +given one cry, I really felt the pain considerably better; and now that +I have obtained this secret spell, I have recourse, at once, when I am +in the height of anguish, to shouts of girls, one shout after another. +Now what do you say to this? Isn't this absurd, eh?" + +"The grandmother is so infatuated by her extreme tenderness for this +youth, that, time after time, she has, on her grandson's account, found +fault with the tutor, and called her son to task, with the result that I +resigned my post and took my leave. A youth, with a disposition such as +his, cannot assuredly either perpetuate intact the estate of his father +and grandfather, or follow the injunctions of teacher or advice of +friends. The pity is, however, that there are, in that family, several +excellent female cousins, the like of all of whom it would be difficult +to discover." + +"Quite so!" remarked Tzu-hsing; "there are now three young ladies in the +Chia family who are simply perfection itself. The eldest is a daughter +of Mr. Cheng, Yuan Ch'un by name, who, on account of her excellence, +filial piety, talents, and virtue, has been selected as a governess in +the palace. The second is the daughter of Mr. She's handmaid, and is +called Ying Ch'un; the third is T'an Ch'un, the child of Mr. Cheng's +handmaid; while the fourth is the uterine sister of Mr. Chen of the Ning +Mansion. Her name is Hsi Ch'un. As dowager lady Shih is so fondly +attached to her granddaughters, they come, for the most part, over to +their grandmother's place to prosecute their studies together, and each +one of these girls is, I hear, without a fault." + +"More admirable," observed Yue-ts'un, "is the regime (adhered to) in the +Chen family, where the names of the female children have all been +selected from the list of male names, and are unlike all those +out-of-the-way names, such as Spring Blossom, Scented Gem, and the like +flowery terms in vogue in other families. But how is it that the Chia +family have likewise fallen into this common practice?" + +"Not so!" ventured Tzu-h'sing. "It is simply because the eldest daughter +was born on the first of the first moon, that the name of Yuan Ch'un was +given to her; while with the rest this character Ch'un (spring) was then +followed. The names of the senior generation are, in like manner, +adopted from those of their brothers; and there is at present an +instance in support of this. The wife of your present worthy master, Mr. +Lin, is the uterine sister of Mr. Chia. She and Mr. Chia Cheng, and she +went, while at home, under the name of Chia Min. Should you question the +truth of what I say, you are at liberty, on your return, to make minute +inquiries and you'll be convinced." + +Yue-ts'un clapped his hands and said smiling, "It's so, I know! for this +female pupil of mine, whose name is Tai-yue, invariably pronounces the +character _min_ as _mi_, whenever she comes across it in the +course of her reading; while, in writing, when she comes to the +character 'min,' she likewise reduces the strokes by one, sometimes by +two. Often have I speculated in my mind (as to the cause), but the +remarks I've heard you mention, convince me, without doubt, that it is +no other reason (than that of reverence to her mother's name). Strange +enough, this pupil of mine is unique in her speech and deportment, and +in no way like any ordinary young lady. But considering that her mother +was no commonplace woman herself, it is natural that she should have +given birth to such a child. Besides, knowing, as I do now, that she is +the granddaughter of the Jung family, it is no matter of surprise to me +that she is what she is. Poor girl, her mother, after all, died in the +course of the last month." + +Tzu-hsing heaved a sigh. "Of three elderly sisters," he explained, "this +one was the youngest, and she too is gone! Of the sisters of the senior +generation not one even survives! But now we'll see what the husbands of +this younger generation will be like by and bye!" + +"Yes," replied Yue-ts'un. "But some while back you mentioned that Mr. +Cheng has had a son, born with a piece of jade in his mouth, and that he +has besides a tender-aged grandson left by his eldest son; but is it +likely that this Mr. She has not, himself, as yet, had any male issue?" + +"After Mr. Cheng had this son with the jade," Tzu-hsing added, "his +handmaid gave birth to another son, who whether he be good or bad, I +don't at all know. At all events, he has by his side two sons and a +grandson, but what these will grow up to be by and bye, I cannot tell. +As regards Mr. Chia She, he too has had two sons; the second of whom, +Chia Lien, is by this time about twenty. He took to wife a relative of +his, a niece of Mr. Cheng's wife, a Miss Wang, and has now been married +for the last two years. This Mr. Lien has lately obtained by purchase +the rank of sub-prefect. He too takes little pleasure in books, but as +far as worldly affairs go, he is so versatile and glib of tongue, that +he has recently taken up his quarters with his uncle Mr. Cheng, to whom +he gives a helping hand in the management of domestic matters. Who would +have thought it, however, ever since his marriage with his worthy wife, +not a single person, whether high or low, has there been who has not +looked up to her with regard: with the result that Mr. Lien himself has, +in fact, had to take a back seat (_lit_. withdrew 35 li). In looks, +she is also so extremely beautiful, in speech so extremely quick and +fluent, in ingenuity so deep and astute, that even a man could, in no +way, come up to her mark." + +After hearing these remarks Yue-ts'un smiled. "You now perceive," he +said, "that my argument is no fallacy, and that the several persons +about whom you and I have just been talking are, we may presume, human +beings, who, one and all, have been generated by the spirit of right, +and the spirit of evil, and come to life by the same royal road; but of +course there's no saying." + +"Enough," cried Tzu-hsing, "of right and enough of evil; we've been +doing nothing but settling other people's accounts; come now, have +another glass, and you'll be the better for it!" + +"While bent upon talking," Yue-ts'un explained, "I've had more glasses +than is good for me." + +"Speaking of irrelevant matters about other people," Tzu-hsing rejoined +complacently, "is quite the thing to help us swallow our wine; so come +now; what harm will happen, if we do have a few glasses more." + +Yue-ts'un thereupon looked out of the window. + +"The day is also far advanced," he remarked, "and if we don't take care, +the gates will be closing; let us leisurely enter the city, and as we go +along, there will be nothing to prevent us from continuing our chat." + +Forthwith the two friends rose from their seats, settled and paid their +wine bill, and were just going, when they unexpectedly heard some one +from behind say with a loud voice: + +"Accept my congratulations, Brother Yue-ts'un; I've now come, with the +express purpose of giving you the welcome news!" + +Yue-ts'un lost no time in turning his head round to look at the speaker. +But reader, if you wish to learn who the man was, listen to the details +given in the following chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + Lin Ju-hai appeals to his brother-in-law, Chia Cheng, recommending + Yue-ts'un, his daughter's tutor, to his consideration. + Dowager lady Chia sends to fetch her granddaughter, out of + commiseration for her being a motherless child. + + +But to proceed with our narrative. + +Yue-ts'un, on speedily turning round, perceived that the speaker was no +other than a certain Chang Ju-kuei, an old colleague of his, who had +been denounced and deprived of office, on account of some case or other; +a native of that district, who had, since his degradation, resided in +his family home. + +Having lately come to hear the news that a memorial, presented in the +capital, that the former officers (who had been cashiered) should be +reinstated, had received the imperial consent, he had promptly done all +he could, in every nook and corner, to obtain influence, and to find the +means (of righting his position,) when he, unexpectedly, came across +Yue-ts'un, to whom he therefore lost no time in offering his +congratulations. The two friends exchanged the conventional salutations, +and Chang Ju-kuei forthwith communicated the tidings to Yue-ts'un. + +Yue-ts'un was delighted, but after he had made a few remarks, in a great +hurry, each took his leave and sped on his own way homewards. + +Leng Tzu-hsing, upon hearing this conversation, hastened at once to +propose a plan, advising Yue-ts'un to request Lin Ju-hai, in his turn, to +appeal in the capital to Mr. Chia Cheng for support. + +Yue-ts'un accepted the suggestion, and parted from his companion. + +On his return to his quarters, he made all haste to lay his hand on the +Metropolitan Gazette, and having ascertained that the news was +authentic, he had on the next day a personal consultation with Ju-hai. + +"Providence and good fortune are both alike propitious!" exclaimed +Ju-hai. "After the death of my wife, my mother-in-law, whose residence +is in the capital, was so very solicitous on my daughter's account, for +having no one to depend upon, that she despatched, at an early period, +boats with men and women servants to come and fetch her. But my child +was at the time not quite over her illness, and that is why she has not +yet started. I was, this very moment, cogitating to send my daughter to +the capital. And in view of the obligation, under which I am to you for +the instruction you have heretofore conferred upon her, remaining as yet +unrequited, there is no reason why, when such an opportunity as this +presents itself, I should not do my utmost to find means to make proper +acknowledgment. I have already, in anticipation, given the matter my +attention, and written a letter of recommendation to my brother-in-law, +urging him to put everything right for you, in order that I may, to a +certain extent, be able to give effect to my modest wishes. As for any +outlay that may prove necessary, I have given proper explanation, in the +letter to my brother-in-law, so that you, my brother, need not trouble +yourself by giving way to much anxiety." + +As Yue-ts'un bowed and expressed his appreciation in most profuse +language,-- + +"Pray," he asked, "where does your honoured brother-in-law reside? and +what is his official capacity? But I fear I'm too coarse in my manner, +and could not presume to obtrude myself in his presence." + +Ju-hai smiled. "And yet," he remarked, "this brother-in-law of mine is +after all of one and the same family as your worthy self, for he is the +grandson of the Duke Jung. My elder brother-in-law has now inherited the +status of Captain-General of the first grade. His name is She, his style +Ngen-hou. My second brother-in-law's name is Cheng, his style is +Tzu-chou. His present post is that of a Second class Secretary in the +Board of Works. He is modest and kindhearted, and has much in him of the +habits of his grandfather; not one of that purse-proud and haughty kind +of men. That is why I have written to him and made the request on your +behalf. Were he different to what he really is, not only would he cast a +slur upon your honest purpose, honourable brother, but I myself likewise +would not have been as prompt in taking action." + +When Yue-ts'un heard these remarks, he at length credited what had been +told him by Tzu-hsing the day before, and he lost no time in again +expressing his sense of gratitude to Lin Ju-hai. + +Ju-hai resumed the conversation. + +"I have fixed," (he explained,) "upon the second of next month, for my +young daughter's departure for the capital, and, if you, brother mine, +were to travel along with her, would it not be an advantage to herself, +as well as to yourself?" + +Yue-ts'un signified his acquiescence as he listened to his proposal; +feeling in his inner self extremely elated. + +Ju-hai availed himself of the earliest opportunity to get ready the +presents (for the capital) and all the requirements for the journey, +which (when completed,) Yue-ts'un took over one by one. His pupil could +not, at first, brook the idea, of a separation from her father, but the +pressing wishes of her grandmother left her no course (but to comply). + +"Your father," Ju-hai furthermore argued with her, "is already fifty; +and I entertain no wish to marry again; and then you are always ailing; +besides, with your extreme youth, you have, above, no mother of your own +to take care of you, and below, no sisters to attend to you. If you now +go and have your maternal grandmother, as well as your mother's brothers +and your cousins to depend upon, you will be doing the best thing to +reduce the anxiety which I feel in my heart on your behalf. Why then +should you not go?" + +Tai-yue, after listening to what her father had to say, parted from him +in a flood of tears and followed her nurse and several old matrons from +the Jung mansion on board her boat, and set out on her journey. + +Yue-ts'un had a boat to himself, and with two youths to wait on him, he +prosecuted his voyage in the wake of Tai-yue. + +By a certain day, they reached Ching Tu; and Yue-ts'un, after first +adjusting his hat and clothes, came, attended by a youth, to the door of +the Jung mansion, and sent in a card, which showed his lineage. + +Chia Cheng had, by this time, perused his brother-in-law's letter, and +he speedily asked him to walk in. When they met, he found in Yue-ts'un an +imposing manner and polite address. + +This Chia Cheng had, in fact, a great penchant above all things for men +of education, men courteous to the talented, respectful to the learned, +ready to lend a helping hand to the needy and to succour the distressed, +and was, to a great extent, like his grandfather. As it was besides a +wish intimated by his brother-in-law, he therefore treated Yue-ts'un with +a consideration still more unusual, and readily strained all his +resources to assist him. + +On the very day on which the memorial was submitted to the Throne, he +obtained by his efforts, a reinstatement to office, and before the +expiry of two months, Yue-t'sun was forthwith selected to fill the +appointment of prefect of Ying T'ien in Chin Ling. Taking leave of Chia +Cheng, he chose a propitious day, and proceeded to his post, where we +will leave him without further notice for the present. + +But to return to Tai-yue. On the day on which she left the boat, and the +moment she put her foot on shore, there were forthwith at her disposal +chairs for her own use, and carts for the luggage, sent over from the +Jung mansion. + +Lin Tai-yue had often heard her mother recount how different was her +grandmother's house from that of other people's; and having seen for +herself how above the common run were already the attendants of the +three grades, (sent to wait upon her,) in attire, in their fare, in all +their articles of use, "how much more," (she thought to herself) "now +that I am going to her home, must I be careful at every step, and +circumspect at every moment! Nor must I utter one word too many, nor +make one step more than is proper, for fear lest I should be ridiculed +by any of them!" + +From the moment she got into the chair, and they had entered within the +city walls, she found, as she looked around, through the gauze window, +at the bustle in the streets and public places and at the immense +concourse of people, everything naturally so unlike what she had seen +elsewhere. + +After they had also been a considerable time on the way, she suddenly +caught sight, at the northern end of the street, of two huge squatting +lions of marble and of three lofty gates with (knockers representing) +the heads of animals. In front of these gates, sat, in a row, about ten +men in coloured hats and fine attire. The main gate was not open. It was +only through the side gates, on the east and west, that people went in +and came out. Above the centre gate was a tablet. On this tablet were +inscribed in five large characters--"The Ning Kuo mansion erected by +imperial command." + +"This must be grandmother's eldest son's residence," reflected Tai-yue. + +Towards the east, again, at no great distance, were three more high +gateways, likewise of the same kind as those she had just seen. This was +the Jung Kuo mansion. + +They did not however go in by the main gate; but simply made their +entrance through the east side door. + +With the sedans on their shoulders, (the bearers) proceeded about the +distance of the throw of an arrow, when upon turning a corner, they +hastily put down the chairs. The matrons, who came behind, one and all +also dismounted. (The bearers) were changed for four youths of seventeen +or eighteen, with hats and clothes without a blemish, and while they +carried the chair, the whole bevy of matrons followed on foot. + +When they reached a creeper-laden gate, the sedan was put down, and all +the youths stepped back and retired. The matrons came forward, raised +the screen, and supported Tai-yue to descend from the chair. + +Lin Tai-yue entered the door with the creepers, resting on the hand of a +matron. + +On both sides was a verandah, like two outstretched arms. An Entrance +Hall stood in the centre, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta +Li marble, set in an ebony frame. On the other side of this screen were +three very small halls. At the back of these came at once an extensive +courtyard, belonging to the main building. + +In the front part were five parlours, the frieze of the ceiling of which +was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. On either side, were covered +avenues, resembling passages through a rock. In the side-rooms were +suspended cages, full of parrots of every colour, thrushes, and birds of +every description. + +On the terrace-steps, sat several waiting maids, dressed in red and +green, and the whole company of them advanced, with beaming faces, to +greet them, when they saw the party approach. "Her venerable ladyship," +they said, "was at this very moment thinking of you, miss, and, by a +strange coincidence, here you are." + +Three or four of them forthwith vied with each other in raising the door +curtain, while at the same time was heard some one announce: "Miss Lin +has arrived." + +No sooner had she entered the room, than she espied two servants +supporting a venerable lady, with silver-white hair, coming forward to +greet her. Convinced that this lady must be her grandmother, she was +about to prostrate herself and pay her obeisance, when she was quickly +clasped in the arms of her grandmother, who held her close against her +bosom; and as she called her "my liver! my flesh!" (my love! my +darling!) she began to sob aloud. + +The bystanders too, at once, without one exception, melted into tears; +and Tai-yue herself found some difficulty in restraining her sobs. Little +by little the whole party succeeded in consoling her, and Tai-yue at +length paid her obeisance to her grandmother. Her ladyship thereupon +pointed them out one by one to Tai-yue. "This," she said, "is the wife of +your uncle, your mother's elder brother; this is the wife of your uncle, +her second brother; and this is your eldest sister-in-law Chu, the wife +of your senior cousin Chu." + +Tai-yue bowed to each one of them (with folded arms). + +"Ask the young ladies in," dowager lady Chia went on to say; "tell them +a guest from afar has just arrived, one who comes for the first time; +and that they may not go to their lessons." + +The servants with one voice signified their obedience, and two of them +speedily went to carry out her orders. + +Not long after three nurses and five or six waiting-maids were seen +ushering in three young ladies. The first was somewhat plump in figure +and of medium height; her cheeks had a congealed appearance, like a +fresh lichee; her nose was glossy like goose fat. She was gracious, +demure, and lovable to look at. + +The second had sloping shoulders, and a slim waist. Tall and slender was +she in stature, with a face like the egg of a goose. Her eyes so +beautiful, with their well-curved eyebrows, possessed in their gaze a +bewitching flash. At the very sight of her refined and elegant manners +all idea of vulgarity was forgotten. + +The third was below the medium size, and her mien was, as yet, +childlike. + +In their head ornaments, jewelry, and dress, the get-up of the three +young ladies was identical. + +Tai-yue speedily rose to greet them and to exchange salutations. After +they had made each other's acquaintance, they all took a seat, whereupon +the servants brought the tea. Their conversation was confined to +Tai-yue's mother,--how she had fallen ill, what doctors had attended her, +what medicines had been given her, and how she had been buried and +mourned; and dowager lady Chia was naturally again in great anguish. + +"Of all my daughters," she remarked, "your mother was the one I loved +best, and now in a twinkle, she has passed away, before me too, and I've +not been able to so much as see her face. How can this not make my heart +sore-stricken?" + +And as she gave vent to these feelings, she took Tai-yue's hand in hers, +and again gave way to sobs; and it was only after the members of the +family had quickly made use of much exhortation and coaxing, that they +succeeded, little by little, in stopping her tears. + +They all perceived that Tai-yue, despite her youthful years and +appearance, was lady-like in her deportment and address, and that though +with her delicate figure and countenance, (she seemed as if) unable to +bear the very weight of her clothes, she possessed, however, a certain +captivating air. And as they readily noticed the symptoms of a weak +constitution, they went on in consequence to make inquiries as to what +medicines she ordinarily took, and how it was that her complaint had not +been cured. + +"I have," explained Tai-yue, "been in this state ever since I was born; +though I've taken medicines from the very time I was able to eat rice, +up to the present, and have been treated by ever so many doctors of +note, I've not derived any benefit. In the year when I was yet only +three, I remember a mangy-headed bonze coming to our house, and saying +that he would take me along, and make a nun of me; but my father and +mother would, on no account, give their consent. 'As you cannot bear to +part from her and to give her up,' he then remarked, 'her ailment will, +I fear, never, throughout her life, be cured. If you wish to see her all +right, it is only to be done by not letting her, from this day forward, +on any account, listen to the sound of weeping, or see, with the +exception of her parents, any relatives outside the family circle. Then +alone will she be able to go through this existence in peace and in +quiet.' No one heeded the nonsensical talk of this raving priest; but +here am I, up to this very day, dosing myself with ginseng pills as a +tonic." + +"What a lucky coincidence!" interposed dowager lady Chia; "some of these +pills are being compounded here, and I'll simply tell them to have an +extra supply made; that's all." + +Hardly had she finished these words, when a sound of laughter was heard +from the back courtyard. "Here I am too late!" the voice said, "and not +in time to receive the distant visitor!" + +"Every one of all these people," reflected Tai-yue, "holds her peace and +suppresses the very breath of her mouth; and who, I wonder, is this +coming in this reckless and rude manner?" + +While, as yet, preoccupied with these thoughts, she caught sight of a +crowd of married women and waiting-maids enter from the back room, +pressing round a regular beauty. + +The attire of this person bore no similarity to that of the young +ladies. In all her splendour and lustre, she looked like a fairy or a +goddess. In her coiffure, she had a band of gold filigree work, +representing the eight precious things, inlaid with pearls; and wore +pins, at the head of each of which were five phoenixes in a rampant +position, with pendants of pearls. On her neck, she had a reddish gold +necklet, like coiled dragons, with a fringe of tassels. On her person, +she wore a tight-sleeved jacket, of dark red flowered satin, covered +with hundreds of butterflies, embroidered in gold, interspersed with +flowers. Over all, she had a variegated stiff-silk pelisse, lined with +slate-blue ermine; while her nether garments consisted of a jupe of +kingfisher-colour foreign crepe, brocaded with flowers. + +She had a pair of eyes, triangular in shape like those of the red +phoenix, two eyebrows, curved upwards at each temple, like willow +leaves. Her stature was elegant; her figure graceful; her powdered face +like dawning spring, majestic, yet not haughty. Her carnation lips, long +before they parted, betrayed a smile. + +Tai-yue eagerly rose and greeted her. + +Old lady Chia then smiled. "You don't know her," she observed. "This is +a cunning vixen, who has made quite a name in this establishment! In +Nanking, she went by the appellation of vixen, and if you simply call +her Feng Vixen, it will do." + +Tai-yue was just at a loss how to address her, when all her cousins +informed Tai-yue, that this was her sister-in-law Lien. + +Tai-yue had not, it is true, made her acquaintance before, but she had +heard her mother mention that her eldest maternal uncle Chia She's son, +Chia Lien, had married the niece of Madame Wang, her second brother's +wife, a girl who had, from her infancy, purposely been nurtured to +supply the place of a son, and to whom the school name of Wang Hsi-feng +had been given. + +Tai-yue lost no time in returning her smile and saluting her with all +propriety, addressing her as my sister-in-law. This Hsi-feng laid hold +of Tai-yue's hand, and minutely scrutinised her, for a while, from head +to foot; after which she led her back next to dowager lady Chia, where +they both took a seat. + +"If really there be a being of such beauty in the world," she +consequently observed with a smile, "I may well consider as having set +eyes upon it to-day! Besides, in the air of her whole person, she +doesn't in fact look like your granddaughter-in-law, our worthy +ancestor, but in every way like your ladyship's own kindred- +granddaughter! It's no wonder then that your venerable ladyship +should have, day after day, had her unforgotten, even for a second, in +your lips and heart. It's a pity, however, that this cousin of mine +should have such a hard lot! How did it happen that our aunt died at +such an early period?" + +As she uttered these words, she hastily took her handkerchief and wiped +the tears from her eyes. + +"I've only just recovered from a fit of crying," dowager lady Chia +observed, as she smiled, "and have you again come to start me? Your +cousin has only now arrived from a distant journey, and she is so +delicate to boot! Besides, we have a few minutes back succeeded in +coaxing her to restrain her sobs, so drop at once making any allusion to +your former remarks!" + +This Hsi-feng, upon hearing these words, lost no time in converting her +sorrow into joy. + +"Quite right," she remarked. "But at the sight of my cousin, my whole +heart was absorbed in her, and I felt happy, and yet wounded at heart: +but having disregarded my venerable ancestor's presence, I deserve to be +beaten, I do indeed!" + +And hastily taking once more Tai-yue's hand in her own: "How old are you, +cousin?" she inquired; "Have you been to school? What medicines are you +taking? while you live here, you mustn't feel homesick; and if there's +anything you would like to eat, or to play with, mind you come and tell +me! or should the waiting maids or the matrons fail in their duties, +don't forget also to report them to me." + +Addressing at the same time the matrons, she went on to ask, "Have Miss +Lin's luggage and effects been brought in? How many servants has she +brought along with her? Go, as soon as you can, and sweep two lower +rooms and ask them to go and rest." + +As she spake, tea and refreshments had already been served, and Hsi-feng +herself handed round the cups and offered the fruits. + +Upon hearing the question further put by her maternal aunt Secunda, +"Whether the issue of the monthly allowances of money had been finished +or not yet?" Hsi-feng replied: "The issue of the money has also been +completed; but a few moments back, when I went along with several +servants to the back upper-loft, in search of the satins, we looked for +ever so long, but we saw nothing of the kind of satins alluded to by +you, madame, yesterday; so may it not be that your memory misgives you?" + +"Whether there be any or not, of that special kind, is of no +consequence," observed madame Wang. "You should take out," she therefore +went on to add, "any two pieces which first come under your hand, for +this cousin of yours to make herself dresses with; and in the evening, +if I don't forget, I'll send some one to fetch them." + +"I've in fact already made every provision," rejoined Hsi-feng; "knowing +very well that my cousin would be arriving within these two days, I have +had everything got ready for her. And when you, madame, go back, if you +will pass an eye over everything, I shall be able to send them round." + +Madame Wang gave a smile, nodded her head assentingly, but uttered not a +word by way of reply. + +The tea and fruit had by this time been cleared, and dowager lady Chia +directed two old nurses to take Tai-yue to go and see her two maternal +uncles; whereupon Chia She's wife, madame Hsing, hastily stood up and +with a smiling face suggested, "I'll take my niece over; for it will +after all be considerably better if I go!" + +"Quite so!" answered dowager lady Chia, smiling; "you can go home too, +and there will be no need for you to come over again!" + +Madame Hsing expressed her assent, and forthwith led Tai-yue to take +leave of madame Wang. The whole party escorted them as far as the door +of the Entrance Hall, hung with creepers, where several youths had drawn +a carriage, painted light blue, with a kingfisher-coloured hood. + +Madame Hsing led Tai-yue by the hand and they got up into their seats. +The whole company of matrons put the curtain down, and then bade the +youths raise the carriage; who dragged it along, until they came to an +open space, where they at length put the mules into harness. + +Going out again by the eastern side gate, they proceeded in an easterly +direction, passed the main entrance of the Jung mansion, and entered a +lofty doorway painted black. On the arrival in front of the ceremonial +gate, they at once dismounted from the curricle, and madame Hsing, +hand-in-hand with Tai-yue, walked into the court. + +"These grounds," surmised Tai-yue to herself, "must have been originally +converted from a piece partitioned from the garden of the Jung mansion." + +Having entered three rows of ceremonial gates they actually caught sight +of the main structure, with its vestibules and porches, all of which, +though on a small scale, were full of artistic and unique beauty. They +were nothing like the lofty, imposing, massive and luxurious style of +architecture on the other side, yet the avenues and rockeries, in the +various places in the court, were all in perfect taste. + +When they reached the interior of the principal pavilion, a large +concourse of handmaids and waiting maids, got up in gala dress, were +already there to greet them. Madame Hsing pressed Tai-yue into a seat, +while she bade some one go into the outer library and request Mr. Chia +She to come over. + +In a few minutes the servant returned. "Master," she explained, "says: +'that he has not felt quite well for several days, that as the meeting +with Miss Lin will affect both her as well as himself, he does not for +the present feel equal to seeing each other, that he advises Miss Lin +not to feel despondent or homesick; that she ought to feel quite at home +with her venerable ladyship, (her grandmother,) as well as her maternal +aunts; that her cousins are, it is true, blunt, but that if all the +young ladies associated together in one place, they may also perchance +dispel some dulness; that if ever (Miss Lin) has any grievance, she +should at once speak out, and on no account feel a stranger; and +everything will then be right." + +Tai-yue lost no time in respectfully standing up, resuming her seat after +she had listened to every sentence of the message to her. After a while, +she said goodbye, and though madame Hsing used every argument to induce +her to stay for the repast and then leave, Tai-yue smiled and said, "I +shouldn't under ordinary circumstances refuse the invitation to dinner, +which you, aunt, in your love kindly extend to me, but I have still to +cross over and pay my respects to my maternal uncle Secundus; if I went +too late, it would, I fear, be a lack of respect on my part; but I shall +accept on another occasion. I hope therefore that you will, dear aunt, +kindly excuse me." + +"If such be the case," madame Hsing replied, "it's all right." And +presently directing two nurses to take her niece over, in the carriage, +in which they had come a while back, Tai-yue thereupon took her leave; +madame Hsing escorting her as far as the ceremonial gate, where she gave +some further directions to all the company of servants. She followed the +curricle with her eyes so long as it remained in sight, and at length +retraced her footsteps. + +Tai-yue shortly entered the Jung Mansion, descended from the carriage, +and preceded by all the nurses, she at once proceeded towards the east, +turned a corner, passed through an Entrance Hall, running east and west, +and walked in a southern direction, at the back of the Large Hall. On +the inner side of a ceremonial gate, and at the upper end of a spacious +court, stood a large main building, with five apartments, flanked on +both sides by out-houses (stretching out) like the antlers on the head +of deer; side-gates, resembling passages through a hill, establishing a +thorough communication all round; (a main building) lofty, majestic, +solid and grand, and unlike those in the compound of dowager lady Chia. + +Tai-yue readily concluded that this at last was the main inner suite of +apartments. A raised broad road led in a straight line to the large +gate. Upon entering the Hall, and raising her head, she first of all +perceived before her a large tablet with blue ground, upon which figured +nine dragons of reddish gold. The inscription on this tablet consisted +of three characters as large as a peck-measure, and declared that this +was the Hall of Glorious Felicity. + +At the end, was a row of characters of minute size, denoting the year, +month and day, upon which His Majesty had been pleased to confer the +tablet upon Chia Yuan, Duke of Jung Kuo. Besides this tablet, were +numberless costly articles bearing the autograph of the Emperor. On the +large black ebony table, engraved with dragons, were placed three +antique blue and green bronze tripods, about three feet in height. On +the wall hung a large picture representing black dragons, such as were +seen in waiting chambers of the Sui dynasty. On one side stood a gold +cup of chased work, while on the other, a crystal casket. On the ground +were placed, in two rows, sixteen chairs, made of hard-grained cedar. + +There was also a pair of scrolls consisting of black-wood antithetical +tablets, inlaid with the strokes of words in chased gold. Their burden +was this: + + On the platform shine resplendent pearls like sun or moon, + And the sheen of the Hall facade gleams like russet sky. + +Below, was a row of small characters, denoting that the scroll had been +written by the hand of Mu Shih, a fellow-countryman and old friend of +the family, who, for his meritorious services, had the hereditary title +of Prince of Tung Ngan conferred upon him. + +The fact is that madame Wang was also not in the habit of sitting and +resting, in this main apartment, but in three side-rooms on the east, so +that the nurses at once led Tai-yue through the door of the eastern wing. + +On a stove-couch, near the window, was spread a foreign red carpet. On +the side of honour, were laid deep red reclining-cushions, with dragons, +with gold cash (for scales), and an oblong brown-coloured +sitting-cushion with gold-cash-spotted dragons. On the two sides, stood +one of a pair of small teapoys of foreign lacquer of peach-blossom +pattern. On the teapoy on the left, were spread out Wen Wang tripods, +spoons, chopsticks and scent-bottles. On the teapoy on the right, were +vases from the Ju Kiln, painted with girls of great beauty, in which +were placed seasonable flowers; (on it were) also teacups, a tea service +and the like articles. + +On the floor on the west side of the room, were four chairs in a row, +all of which were covered with antimacassars, embroidered with +silverish-red flowers, while below, at the feet of these chairs, stood +four footstools. On either side, was also one of a pair of high teapoys, +and these teapoys were covered with teacups and flower vases. + +The other nick-nacks need not be minutely described. + +The old nurses pressed Tai-yue to sit down on the stove-couch; but, on +perceiving near the edge of the couch two embroidered cushions, placed +one opposite the other, she thought of the gradation of seats, and did +not therefore place herself on the couch, but on a chair on the eastern +side of the room; whereupon the waiting maids, in attendance in these +quarters, hastened to serve the tea. + +While Tai-yue was sipping her tea, she observed the headgear, dress, +deportment and manners of the several waiting maids, which she really +found so unlike what she had seen in other households. She had hardly +finished her tea, when she noticed a waiting maid approach, dressed in a +red satin jacket, and a waistcoat of blue satin with scollops. + +"My lady requests Miss Lin to come over and sit with her," she remarked +as she put on a smile. + +The old nurses, upon hearing this message, speedily ushered Tai-yue again +out of this apartment, into the three-roomed small main building by the +eastern porch. + +On the stove-couch, situated at the principal part of the room, was +placed, in a transverse position, a low couch-table, at the upper end of +which were laid out, in a heap, books and a tea service. Against the +partition-wall, on the east side, facing the west, was a reclining +pillow, made of blue satin, neither old nor new. + +Madame Wang, however, occupied the lower seat, on the west side, on +which was likewise placed a rather shabby blue satin sitting-rug, with a +back-cushion; and upon perceiving Tai-yue come in she urged her at once +to sit on the east side. + +Tai-yue concluded, in her mind, that this seat must certainly belong to +Chia Cheng, and espying, next to the couch, a row of three chairs, +covered with antimacassars, strewn with embroidered flowers, somewhat +also the worse for use, Tai-yue sat down on one of these chairs. + +But as madame Wang pressed her again and again to sit on the couch, +Tai-yue had at length to take a seat next to her. + +"Your uncle," madame Wang explained, "is gone to observe this day as a +fast day, but you'll see him by and bye. There's, however, one thing I +want to talk to you about. Your three female cousins are all, it is +true, everything that is nice; and you will, when later on you come +together for study, or to learn how to do needlework, or whenever, at +any time, you romp and laugh together, find them all most obliging; but +there's one thing that causes me very much concern. I have here one, who +is the very root of retribution, the incarnation of all mischief, one +who is a ne'er-do-well, a prince of malignant spirits in this family. He +is gone to-day to pay his vows in the temple, and is not back yet, but +you will see him in the evening, when you will readily be able to judge +for yourself. One thing you must do, and that is, from this time forth, +not to pay any notice to him. All these cousins of yours don't venture +to bring any taint upon themselves by provoking him." + +Tai-yue had in days gone by heard her mother explain that she had a +nephew, born into the world, holding a piece of jade in his mouth, who +was perverse beyond measure, who took no pleasure in his books, and +whose sole great delight was to play the giddy dog in the inner +apartments; that her maternal grandmother, on the other hand, loved him +so fondly that no one ever presumed to call him to account, so that +when, in this instance, she heard madame Wang's advice, she at once felt +certain that it must be this very cousin. + +"Isn't it to the cousin born with jade in his mouth, that you are +alluding to, aunt?" she inquired as she returned her smile. "When I was +at home, I remember my mother telling me more than once of this very +cousin, who (she said) was a year older than I, and whose infant name +was Pao-yue. She added that his disposition was really wayward, but that +he treats all his cousins with the utmost consideration. Besides, now +that I have come here, I shall, of course, be always together with my +female cousins, while the boys will have their own court, and separate +quarters; and how ever will there be any cause of bringing any slur upon +myself by provoking him?" + +"You don't know the reasons (that prompt me to warn you)," replied +madame Wang laughingly. "He is so unlike all the rest, all because he +has, since his youth up, been doated upon by our old lady! The fact is +that he has been spoilt, through over-indulgence, by being always in the +company of his female cousins! If his female cousins pay no heed to him, +he is, at any rate, somewhat orderly, but the day his cousins say one +word more to him than usual, much trouble forthwith arises, at the +outburst of delight in his heart. That's why I enjoin upon you not to +heed him. From his mouth, at one time, issue sugared words and +mellifluous phrases; and at another, like the heavens devoid of the sun, +he becomes a raving fool; so whatever you do, don't believe all he +says." + +Tai-yue was assenting to every bit of advice as it was uttered, when +unexpectedly she beheld a waiting-maid walk in. "Her venerable ladyship +over there," she said, "has sent word about the evening meal." + +Madame Wang hastily took Tai-yue by the hand, and emerging by the door of +the back-room, they went eastwards by the verandah at the back. Past the +side gate, was a roadway, running north and south. On the southern side +were a pavilion with three divisions and a Reception Hall with a +colonnade. On the north, stood a large screen wall, painted white; +behind it was a very small building, with a door of half the ordinary +size. + +"These are your cousin Feng's rooms," explained madame Wang to Tai-yue, +as she pointed to them smiling. "You'll know in future your way to come +and find her; and if you ever lack anything, mind you mention it to her, +and she'll make it all right." + +At the door of this court, were also several youths, who had recently +had the tufts of their hair tied together, who all dropped their hands +against their sides, and stood in a respectful posture. Madame Wang then +led Tai-yue by the hand through a corridor, running east and west, into +what was dowager lady Chia's back-court. Forthwith they entered the door +of the back suite of rooms, where stood, already in attendance, a large +number of servants, who, when they saw madame Wang arrive, set to work +setting the tables and chairs in order. + +Chia Chu's wife, nee Li, served the eatables, while Hsi-feng placed the +chopsticks, and madame Wang brought the soup in. Dowager lady Chia was +seated all alone on the divan, in the main part of the apartment, on the +two sides of which stood four vacant chairs. + +Hsi-feng at once drew Tai-yue, meaning to make her sit in the foremost +chair on the left side, but Tai-yue steadily and concedingly declined. + +"Your aunts and sisters-in-law, standing on the right and left," dowager +lady Chia smilingly explained, "won't have their repast in here, and as +you're a guest, it's but proper that you should take that seat." + +Then alone it was that Tai-yue asked for permission to sit down, seating +herself on the chair. + +Madame Wang likewise took a seat at old lady Chia's instance; and the +three cousins, Ying Ch'un and the others, having craved for leave to sit +down, at length came forward, and Ying Ch'un took the first chair on the +right, T'an Ch'un the second, and Hsi Ch'un the second on the left. +Waiting maids stood by holding in their hands, flips and finger-bowls +and napkins, while Mrs. Li and lady Feng, the two of them, kept near the +table advising them what to eat, and pressing them to help themselves. + +In the outer apartments, the married women and waiting-maids in +attendance, were, it is true, very numerous; but not even so much as the +sound of the cawing of a crow could be heard. + +The repast over, each one was presented by a waiting-maid, with tea in a +small tea tray; but the Lin family had all along impressed upon the mind +of their daughter that in order to show due regard to happiness, and to +preserve good health, it was essential, after every meal, to wait a +while, before drinking any tea, so that it should not do any harm to the +intestines. When, therefore, Tai-yue perceived how many habits there were +in this establishment unlike those which prevailed in her home, she too +had no alternative but to conform herself to a certain extent with them. +Upon taking over the cup of tea, servants came once more and presented +finger-bowls for them to rinse their mouths, and Tai-yue also rinsed +hers; and after they had all again finished washing their hands, tea was +eventually served a second time, and this was, at length, the tea that +was intended to be drunk. + +"You can all go," observed dowager lady Chia, "and let us alone to have +a chat." + +Madame Wang rose as soon as she heard these words, and having made a few +irrelevant remarks, she led the way and left the room along with the two +ladies, Mrs. Li and lady Feng. + +Dowager lady Chia, having inquired of Tai-yue what books she was reading, +"I have just begun reading the Four Books," Tai-yue replied. "What books +are my cousins reading?" Tai-yue went on to ask. + +"Books, you say!" exclaimed dowager lady Chia; "why all they know are a +few characters, that's all." + +The sentence was barely out of her lips, when a continuous sounding of +footsteps was heard outside, and a waiting maid entered and announced +that Pao-yue was coming. Tai-yue was speculating in her mind how it was +that this Pao-yue had turned out such a good-for-nothing fellow, when he +happened to walk in. + +He was, in fact, a young man of tender years, wearing on his head, to +hold his hair together, a cap of gold of purplish tinge, inlaid with +precious gems. Parallel with his eyebrows was attached a circlet, +embroidered with gold, and representing two dragons snatching a pearl. +He wore an archery-sleeved deep red jacket, with hundreds of butterflies +worked in gold of two different shades, interspersed with flowers; and +was girded with a sash of variegated silk, with clusters of designs, to +which was attached long tassels; a kind of sash worn in the palace. Over +all, he had a slate-blue fringed coat of Japanese brocaded satin, with +eight bunches of flowers in relief; and wore a pair of light blue satin +white-soled, half-dress court-shoes. + +His face was like the full moon at mid-autumn; his complexion, like +morning flowers in spring; the hair along his temples, as if chiselled +with a knife; his eyebrows, as if pencilled with ink; his nose like a +suspended gallbladder (a well-cut and shapely nose); his eyes like +vernal waves; his angry look even resembled a smile; his glance, even +when stern, was full of sentiment. + +Round his neck he had a gold dragon necklet with a fringe; also a cord +of variegated silk, to which was attached a piece of beautiful jade. + +As soon as Tai-yue became conscious of his presence, she was quite taken +aback. "How very strange!" she was reflecting in her mind; "it would +seem as if I had seen him somewhere or other, for his face appears +extremely familiar to my eyes;" when she noticed Pao-yue face dowager +lady Chia and make his obeisance. "Go and see your mother and then come +back," remarked her venerable ladyship; and at once he turned round and +quitted the room. + +On his return, he had already changed his hat and suit. All round his +head, he had a fringe of short hair, plaited into small queues, and +bound with red silk. The queues were gathered up at the crown, and all +the hair, which had been allowed to grow since his birth, was plaited +into a thick queue, which looked as black and as glossy as lacquer. +Between the crown of the head and the extremity of the queue, hung a +string of four large pearls, with pendants of gold, representing the +eight precious things. On his person, he wore a long silvery-red coat, +more or less old, bestrewn with embroidery of flowers. He had still +round his neck the necklet, precious gem, amulet of Recorded Name, +philacteries, and other ornaments. Below were partly visible a fir-cone +coloured brocaded silk pair of trousers, socks spotted with black +designs, with ornamented edges, and a pair of deep red, thick-soled +shoes. + +(Got up as he was now,) his face displayed a still whiter appearance, as +if painted, and his eyes as if they were set off with carnation. As he +rolled his eyes, they brimmed with love. When he gave utterance to +speech, he seemed to smile. But the chief natural pleasing feature was +mainly centred in the curve of his eyebrows. The ten thousand and one +fond sentiments, fostered by him during the whole of his existence, were +all amassed in the corner of his eyes. + +His outward appearance may have been pleasing to the highest degree, but +yet it was no easy matter to fathom what lay beneath it. + +There are a couple of roundelays, composed by a later poet, (after the +excellent rhythm of the) Hsi Chiang Yueh, which depict Pao-yue in a most +adequate manner. + +The roundelays run as follows: + + To gloom and passion prone, without a rhyme, + Inane and madlike was he many a time, + His outer self, forsooth, fine may have been, + But one wild, howling waste his mind within: + Addled his brain that nothing he could see; + A dunce! to read essays so loth to be! + Perverse in bearing, in temper wayward; + For human censure he had no regard. + When rich, wealth to enjoy he knew not how; + When poor, to poverty he could not bow. + Alas! what utter waste of lustrous grace! + To state, to family what a disgrace! + Of ne'er-do-wells below he was the prime, + Unfilial like him none up to this time. + Ye lads, pampered with sumptuous fare and dress, + Beware! In this youth's footsteps do not press! + +But to proceed with our story. + +"You have gone and changed your clothes," observed dowager lady Chia, +"before being introduced to the distant guest. Why don't you yet salute +your cousin?" + +Pao-yue had long ago become aware of the presence of a most beautiful +young lady, who, he readily concluded, must be no other than the +daughter of his aunt Lin. He hastened to advance up to her, and make his +bow; and after their introduction, he resumed his seat, whence he +minutely scrutinised her features, (which he thought) so unlike those of +all other girls. + +Her two arched eyebrows, thick as clustered smoke, bore a certain not +very pronounced frowning wrinkle. She had a pair of eyes, which +possessed a cheerful, and yet one would say, a sad expression, +overflowing with sentiment. Her face showed the prints of sorrow stamped +on her two dimpled cheeks. She was beautiful, but her whole frame was +the prey of a hereditary disease. The tears in her eyes glistened like +small specks. Her balmy breath was so gentle. She was as demure as a +lovely flower reflected in the water. Her gait resembled a frail willow, +agitated by the wind. Her heart, compared with that of Pi Kan, had one +more aperture of intelligence; while her ailment exceeded (in intensity) +by three degrees the ailment of Hsi-Tzu. + +Pao-yue, having concluded his scrutiny of her, put on a smile and said, +"This cousin I have already seen in days gone by." + +"There you are again with your nonsense," exclaimed lady Chia, +sneeringly; "how could you have seen her before?" + +"Though I may not have seen her, ere this," observed Pao-yue with a +smirk, "yet when I look at her face, it seems so familiar, and to my +mind, it would appear as if we had been old acquaintances; just as if, +in fact, we were now meeting after a long separation." + +"That will do! that will do!" remarked dowager lady Chia; "such being +the case, you will be the more intimate." + +Pao-yue, thereupon, went up to Tai-yue, and taking a seat next to her, +continued to look at her again with all intentness for a good long +while. + +"Have you read any books, cousin?" he asked. + +"I haven't as yet," replied Tai-yue, "read any books, as I have only been +to school for a year; all I know are simply a few characters." + +"What is your worthy name, cousin?" Pao-yue went on to ask; whereupon +Tai-yue speedily told him her name. + +"Your style?" inquired Pao-yue; to which question Tai-yue replied, "I have +no style." + +"I'll give you a style," suggested Pao-yue smilingly; "won't the double +style 'P'in P'in,' 'knitting brows,' do very well?" + +"From what part of the standard books does that come?" T'an Ch'un +hastily interposed. + +"It is stated in the Thorough Research into the state of Creation from +remote ages to the present day," Pao-yue went on to explain, "that, in +the western quarter, there exists a stone, called Tai, (black,) which +can be used, in lieu of ink, to blacken the eyebrows with. Besides the +eyebrows of this cousin taper in a way, as if they were contracted, so +that the selection of these two characters is most appropriate, isn't +it?" + +"This is just another plagiarism, I fear," observed T'an Ch'un, with an +ironic smirk. + +"Exclusive of the Four Books," Pao-yue remarked smilingly, "the majority +of works are plagiarised; and is it only I, perchance, who plagiarise? +Have you got any jade or not?" he went on to inquire, addressing Tai-yue, +(to the discomfiture) of all who could not make out what he meant. + +"It's because he has a jade himself," Tai-yue forthwith reasoned within +her mind, "that he asks me whether I have one or not.--No; I haven't +one," she replied. "That jade of yours is besides a rare object, and how +could every one have one?" + +As soon as Pao-yue heard this remark, he at once burst out in a fit of +his raving complaint, and unclasping the gem, he dashed it disdainfully +on the floor. "Rare object, indeed!" he shouted, as he heaped invective +on it; "it has no idea how to discriminate the excellent from the mean, +among human beings; and do tell me, has it any perception or not? I too +can do without this rubbish!" + +All those, who stood below, were startled; and in a body they pressed +forward, vying with each other as to who should pick up the gem. + +Dowager lady Chia was so distressed that she clasped Pao-yue in her +embrace. "You child of wrath," she exclaimed. "When you get into a +passion, it's easy enough for you to beat and abuse people; but what +makes you fling away that stem of life?" + +Pao-yue's face was covered with the traces of tears. "All my cousins +here, senior as well as junior," he rejoined, as he sobbed, "have no +gem, and if it's only I to have one, there's no fun in it, I maintain! +and now comes this angelic sort of cousin, and she too has none, so that +it's clear enough that it is no profitable thing." + +Dowager lady Chia hastened to coax him. "This cousin of yours," she +explained, "would, under former circumstances, have come here with a +jade; and it's because your aunt felt unable, as she lay on her +death-bed, to reconcile herself to the separation from your cousin, that +in the absence of any remedy, she forthwith took the gem belonging to +her (daughter), along with her (in the grave); so that, in the first +place, by the fulfilment of the rites of burying the living with the +dead might be accomplished the filial piety of your cousin; and in the +second place, that the spirit of your aunt might also, for the time +being, use it to gratify the wish of gazing on your cousin. That's why +she simply told you that she had no jade; for she couldn't very well +have had any desire to give vent to self-praise. Now, how can you ever +compare yourself with her? and don't you yet carefully and circumspectly +put it on? Mind, your mother may come to know what you have done!" + +As she uttered these words, she speedily took the jade over from the +hand of the waiting-maid, and she herself fastened it on for him. + +When Pao-yue heard this explanation, he indulged in reflection, but could +not even then advance any further arguments. + +A nurse came at the moment and inquired about Tai-yue's quarters, and +dowager lady Chia at once added, "Shift Pao-yue along with me, into the +warm room of my suite of apartments, and put your mistress, Miss Lin, +temporarily in the green gauze house; and when the rest of the winter is +over, and repairs are taken in hand in spring in their rooms, an +additional wing can be put up for her to take up her quarters in." + +"My dear ancestor," ventured Pao-yue; "the bed I occupy outside the green +gauze house is very comfortable; and what need is there again for me to +leave it and come and disturb your old ladyship's peace and quiet?" + +"Well, all right," observed dowager lady Chia, after some consideration; +"but let each one of you have a nurse, as well as a waiting-maid to +attend on you; the other servants can remain in the outside rooms and +keep night watch and be ready to answer any call." + +At an early hour, besides, Hsi-feng had sent a servant round with a grey +flowered curtain, embroidered coverlets and satin quilts and other such +articles. + +Tai-yue had brought along with her only two servants; the one was her own +nurse, dame Wang, and the other was a young waiting-maid of sixteen, +whose name was called Hsueeh Yen. Dowager lady Chia, perceiving that +Hsueeh Yen was too youthful and quite a child in her manner, while nurse +Wang was, on the other hand, too aged, conjectured that Tai-yue would, in +all her wants, not have things as she liked, so she detached two +waiting-maids, who were her own personal attendants, named Tzu Chuean and +Ying Ko, and attached them to Tai-yue's service. Just as had Ying Ch'un +and the other girls, each one of whom had besides the wet nurses of +their youth, four other nurses to advise and direct them, and exclusive +of two personal maids to look after their dress and toilette, four or +five additional young maids to do the washing and sweeping of the rooms +and the running about backwards and forwards on errands. + +Nurse Wang, Tzu Chuean and other girls entered at once upon their +attendance on Tai-yue in the green gauze rooms, while Pao-yue's wet-nurse, +dame Li, together with an elderly waiting-maid, called Hsi Jen, were on +duty in the room with the large bed. + +This Hsi Jen had also been, originally, one of dowager lady Chia's +servant-girls. Her name was in days gone by, Chen Chu. As her venerable +ladyship, in her tender love for Pao-yue, had feared that Pao-yue's +servant girls were not equal to their duties, she readily handed her to +Pao-yue, as she had hitherto had experience of how sincere and +considerate she was at heart. + +Pao-yue, knowing that her surname was at one time Hua, and having once +seen in some verses of an ancient poet, the line "the fragrance of +flowers wafts itself into man," lost no time in explaining the fact to +dowager lady Chia, who at once changed her name into Hsi Jen. + +This Hsi Jen had several simple traits. While in attendance upon dowager +lady Chia, in her heart and her eyes there was no one but her venerable +ladyship, and her alone; and now in her attendance upon Pao-yue, her +heart and her eyes were again full of Pao-yue, and him alone. But as +Pao-yue was of a perverse temperament and did not heed her repeated +injunctions, she felt at heart exceedingly grieved. + +At night, after nurse Li had fallen asleep, seeing that in the inner +chambers, Tai-yue, Ying Ko and the others had not as yet retired to rest, +she disrobed herself, and with gentle step walked in. + +"How is it, miss," she inquired smiling, "that you have not turned in as +yet?" + +Tai-yue at once put on a smile. "Sit down, sister," she rejoined, +pressing her to take a seat. Hsi Jen sat on the edge of the bed. + +"Miss Lin," interposed Ying Ko smirkingly, "has been here in an awful +state of mind! She has cried so to herself, that her eyes were flooded, +as soon as she dried her tears. 'It's only to-day that I've come,' she +said, 'and I've already been the cause of the outbreak of your young +master's failing. Now had he broken that jade, as he hurled it on the +ground, wouldn't it have been my fault? Hence it was that she was so +wounded at heart, that I had all the trouble in the world, before I +could appease her." + +"Desist at once, Miss! Don't go on like this," Hsi Jen advised her; +"there will, I fear, in the future, happen things far more strange and +ridiculous than this; and if you allow yourself to be wounded and +affected to such a degree by a conduct such as his, you will, I +apprehend, suffer endless wounds and anguish; so be quick and dispel +this over-sensitive nature!" + +"What you sisters advise me," replied Tai-yue, "I shall bear in mind, and +it will be all right." + +They had another chat, which lasted for some time, before they at length +retired to rest for the night. + +The next day, (she and her cousins) got up at an early hour and went +over to pay their respects to dowager lady Chia, after which upon coming +to madame Wang's apartments, they happened to find madame Wang and +Hsi-feng together, opening the letters which had arrived from Chin Ling. +There were also in the room two married women, who had been sent from +madame Wang's elder brother's wife's house to deliver a message. + +Tai-yue was, it is true, not aware of what was up, but T'an Ch'un and the +others knew that they were discussing the son of her mother's sister, +married in the Hsueeh family, in the city of Chin Ling, a cousin of +theirs, Hsueeh P'an, who relying upon his wealth and influence had, by +assaulting a man, committed homicide, and who was now to be tried in the +court of the Ying T'ien Prefecture. + +Her maternal uncle, Wang Tzu-t'eng, had now, on the receipt of the +tidings, despatched messengers to bring over the news to the Chia +family. But the next chapter will explain what was the ultimate issue of +the wish entertained in this mansion to send for the Hsueeh family to +come to the capital. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + An ill-fated girl happens to meet an ill-fated young man. + The Hu Lu Bonze adjudicates the Hu Lu case. + + +Tai-yue, for we shall now return to our story, having come, along with +her cousin to madame Wang's apartments, found madame Wang discussing +certain domestic occurrences with the messengers, who had arrived from +her elder brother's wife's home, and conversing also about the case of +homicide, in which the family of her mother's sister had become +involved, and other such relevant topics. Perceiving how pressing and +perplexing were the matters in which madame Wang was engaged, the young +ladies promptly left her apartments, and came over to the rooms of their +widow sister-in-law, Mrs. Li. + +This Mrs. Li had originally been the spouse of Chia Chu. Although Chu +had died at an early age, he had the good fortune of leaving behind him +a son, to whom the name of Chia Lan was given. He was, at this period, +just in his fifth year, and had already entered school, and applied +himself to books. + +This Mrs. Li was also the daughter of an official of note in Chin Ling. +Her father's name was Li Shou-chung, who had, at one time, been Imperial +Libationer. Among his kindred, men as well as women had all devoted +themselves to poetry and letters; but ever since Li Shou-chung continued +the line of succession, he readily asserted that the absence of literary +attainments in his daughter was indeed a virtue, so that it soon came +about that she did not apply herself in real earnest to learning; with +the result that all she studied were some parts of the "Four Books for +women," and the "Memoirs of excellent women," that all she read did not +extend beyond a limited number of characters, and that all she committed +to memory were the examples of these few worthy female characters of +dynasties of yore; while she attached special importance to spinning and +female handiwork. To this reason is to be assigned the name selected for +her, of Li Wan (Li, the weaver), and the style of Kung Ts'ai (Palace +Sempstress). + +Hence it was that, though this Li Wan still continued, after the loss of +her mate, while she was as yet in the spring of her life, to live amidst +affluence and luxury, she nevertheless resembled in every respect a +block of rotten wood or dead ashes. She had no inclination whatsoever to +inquire after anything or to listen to anything; while her sole and +exclusive thought was to wait upon her relatives and educate her son; +and, in addition to this, to teach her young sisters-in-law to do +needlework and to read aloud. + +Tai-yue was, it is true, at this period living as a guest in the Chia +mansion, where she certainly had the several young ladies to associate +with her, but, outside her aged father, (she thought) there was really +no need for her to extend affection to any of the rest. + +But we will now speak of Chia Yue-ts'un. Having obtained the appointment +of Prefect of Ying T'ien, he had no sooner arrived at his post than a +charge of manslaughter was laid before his court. This had arisen from +some rivalry between two parties in the purchase of a slave-girl, either +of whom would not yield his right; with the result that a serious +assault occurred, which ended in homicide. + +Yue-ts'un had, with all promptitude, the servants of the plaintiffs +brought before him, and subjected them to an examination. + +"The victim of the assault," the plaintiffs deposed, "was your servants' +master. Having on a certain day, purchased a servant-girl, she +unexpectedly turned out to be a girl who had been carried away and sold +by a kidnapper. This kidnapper had, first of all, got hold of our +family's money, and our master had given out that he would on the third +day, which was a propitious day, take her over into the house, but +this kidnapper stealthily sold her over again to the Hsueeh family. When +we came to know of this, we went in search of the seller to lay hold of +him, and bring back the girl by force. But the Hsueeh party has been all +along _the_ bully of Chin Ling, full of confidence in his wealth, +full of presumption on account of his prestige; and his arrogant menials +in a body seized our master and beat him to death. The murderous master +and his crew have all long ago made good their escape, leaving no trace +behind them, while there only remain several parties not concerned in +the affair. Your servants have for a whole year lodged complaints, but +there has been no one to do our cause justice, and we therefore implore +your Lordship to have the bloodstained criminals arrested, and thus +conduce to the maintenance of humanity and benevolence; and the living, +as well as the dead, will feel boundless gratitude for this heavenly +bounty." + +When Yue-ts'un heard their appeal, he flew into a fiery rage. "What!" he +exclaimed. "How could a case of such gravity have taken place as the +murder of a man, and the culprits have been allowed to run away +scot-free, without being arrested? Issue warrants, and despatch +constables to at once lay hold of the relatives of the bloodstained +criminals and bring them to be examined by means of torture." + +Thereupon he espied a Retainer, who was standing by the judgment-table, +wink at him, signifying that he should not issue the warrants. Yue-t'sun +gave way to secret suspicion, and felt compelled to desist. + +Withdrawing from the Court-room, he retired into a private chamber, from +whence he dismissed his followers, only keeping this single Retainer to +wait upon him. + +The Retainer speedily advanced and paid his obeisance. "Your worship," +he said smiling, "has persistently been rising in official honours, and +increasing in wealth so that, in the course of about eight or nine +years, you have forgotten me." + +"Your face is, however, extremely familiar," observed Yue-ts'un, "but I +cannot, for the moment, recall who you are." + +"Honourable people forget many things," remarked the Retainer, as he +smiled. "What! Have you even forgotten the place where you started in +life? and do you not remember what occurred, in years gone by, in the Hu +Lu Temple?" + +Yue-ts'un was filled with extreme astonishment; and past events then +began to dawn upon him. + +The fact is that this Retainer had been at one time a young priest in +the Hu Lu temple; but as, after its destruction by fire, he had no place +to rest his frame, he remembered how light and easy was, after all, this +kind of occupation, and being unable to reconcile himself to the +solitude and quiet of a temple, he accordingly availed himself of his +years, which were as yet few, to let his hair grow, and become a +retainer. + +Yue-ts'un had had no idea that it was he. Hastily taking his hand in his, +he smilingly observed, "You are, indeed, an old acquaintance!" and then +pressed him to take a seat, so as to have a chat with more ease, but the +Retainer would not presume to sit down. + +"Friendships," Yue-ts'un remarked, putting on a smiling expression, +"contracted in poor circumstances should not be forgotten! This is a +private room; so that if you sat down, what would it matter?" + +The Retainer thereupon craved permission to take a seat, and sat down +gingerly, all awry. + +"Why did you, a short while back," Yue-ts'un inquired, "not allow me to +issue the warrants?" + +"Your illustrious office," replied the Retainer, "has brought your +worship here, and is it likely you have not transcribed some philactery +of your post in this province!" + +"What is an office-philactery?" asked Yue-ts'un with alacrity. + +"Now-a-days," explained the Retainer, "those who become local officers +provide themselves invariably with a secret list, in which are entered +the names and surnames of the most influential and affluent gentry of +note in the province. This is in vogue in every province. Should +inadvertently, at any moment, one give umbrage to persons of this +status, why, not only office, but I fear even one's life, it would be +difficult to preserve. That's why these lists are called +office-philacteries. This Hsueeh family, just a while back spoken of, how +could your worship presume to provoke? This case in question affords no +difficulties whatever in the way of a settlement; but the prefects, who +have held office before you, have all, by doing violence to the feelings +and good name of these people, come to the end they did." + +As he uttered these words, he produced, from inside a purse which he had +handy, a transcribed office-philactery, which he handed over to +Yue-ts'un; who upon perusal, found it full of trite and unpolished +expressions of public opinion, with regard to the leading clans and +notable official families in that particular district. They ran as +follows: + +The "Chia" family is not "chia," a myth; white jade form the Halls; gold +compose their horses! The "A Fang" Palace is three hundred li in extent, +but is no fit residence for a "Shih" of Chin Ling. The eastern seas lack +white jade beds, and the "Lung Wang," king of the Dragons, has come to +ask for one of the Chin Ling Wang, (Mr. Wang of Chin Ling.) In a +plenteous year, snow, (Hsueeh,) is very plentiful; their pearls and gems +are like sand, their gold like iron. + +Scarcely had Yue-ts'un done reading, when suddenly was heard the +announcement, communicated by the beating of a gong, that Mr. Wang had +come to pay his respects. + +Yue-ts'un hastily adjusted his official clothes and hat, and went out of +the room to greet and receive the visitor. Returning after a short while +he proceeded to question the Retainer (about what he had been perusing.) + +"These four families," explained the Retainer, "are all interlaced by +ties of relationship, so that if you offend one, you offend all; if you +honour one, you honour all. For support and protection, they all have +those to take care of their interests! Now this Hsueeh, who is charged +with homicide, is indeed the Hsueeh implied by 'in a plenteous year, +(Hsueeh,) snow, is very plentiful.' In fact, not only has he these three +families to rely upon, but his (father's) old friends, and his own +relatives and friends are both to be found in the capital, as well as +abroad in the provinces; and they are, what is more, not few in number. +Who is it then that your Worship purposes having arrested?" + +When Yue-ts'un had heard these remarks, he forthwith put on a smile and +inquired of the Retainer, "If what you say be true, how is then this +lawsuit to be settled? Are you also perchance well aware of the place of +retreat of this homicide?" + +"I don't deceive your Worship," the Retainer ventured smiling, "when I +say that not only do I know the hiding-place of this homicide, but that +I also am acquainted with the man who kidnapped and sold the girl; I +likewise knew full well the poor devil and buyer, now deceased. But +wait, and I'll tell your worship all, with full details. This person, +who succumbed to the assault, was the son of a minor gentry. His name +was Feng Yuean. His father and mother are both deceased, and he has +likewise no brothers. He looked after some scanty property in order to +eke out a living. His age was eighteen or nineteen; and he had a strong +penchant for men's, and not much for women's society. But this was too +the retribution (for sins committed) in a previous existence! for +coming, by a strange coincidence, in the way of this kidnapper, who was +selling the maid, he straightway at a glance fell in love with this +girl, and made up his mind to purchase her and make her his second wife; +entering an oath not to associate with any male friends, nor even to +marry another girl. And so much in earnest was he in this matter that he +had to wait until after the third day before she could enter his +household (so as to make the necessary preparations for the marriage). +But who would have foreseen the issue? This kidnapper quietly disposed +of her again by sale to the Hsueeh family; his intention being to pocket +the price-money from both parties, and effect his escape. Contrary to +his calculations, he couldn't after all run away in time, and the two +buyers laid hold of him and beat him, till he was half dead; but neither +of them would take his coin back, each insisting upon the possession of +the girl. But do you think that young gentleman, Mr. Hsueeh, would yield +his claim to her person? Why, he at once summoned his servants and bade +them have recourse to force; and, taking this young man Feng, they +assailed him till they made mincemeat of him. He was then carried back +to his home, where he finally died after the expiry of three days. This +young Mr. Hsueeh had previously chosen a day, on which he meant to set +out for the capital, and though he had beaten the young man Feng to +death, and carried off the girl, he nevertheless behaved in the manner +of a man who had had no concern in the affair. And all he gave his mind +to was to take his family and go along on his way; but not in any wise +in order to evade (the consequences) of this (occurrence). This case of +homicide, (he looked upon) as a most trivial and insignificant matter, +which, (he thought), his brother and servants, who were on the spot, +would be enough to settle. But, however, enough of this person. Now does +your worship know who this girl is who was sold?" + +"How could I possibly know?" answered Yue-ts'un. + +"And yet," remarked the Retainer, as he laughed coldly, "this is a +person to whom you are indebted for great obligations; for she is no one +else than the daughter of Mr. Chen, who lived next door to the Hu Lu +temple. Her infant name is 'Ying Lien.'" + +"What! is it really she?" exclaimed Yue-ts'un full of surprise. "I heard +that she had been kidnapped, ever since she was five years old; but has +she only been sold recently?" + +"Kidnappers of this kind," continued the Retainer, "only abduct infant +girls, whom they bring up till they reach the age of twelve or thirteen, +when they take them into strange districts and dispose of them through +their agents. In days gone by, we used daily to coax this girl, Ying +Lien, to romp with us, so that we got to be exceedingly friendly. Hence +it is that though, with the lapse of seven or eight years, her mien has +assumed a more surpassingly lovely appearance, her general features +have, on the other hand, undergone no change; and this is why I can +recognise her. Besides, in the centre of her two eyebrows, she had a +spot, of the size of a grain of rice, of carnation colour, which she has +had ever since she was born into the world. This kidnapper, it also +happened, rented my house to live in; and on a certain day, on which the +kidnapper was not at home, I even set her a few questions. She said, +'that the kidnapper had so beaten her, that she felt intimidated, and +couldn't on any account, venture to speak out; simply averring that the +kidnapper was her own father, and that, as he had no funds to repay his +debts, he had consequently disposed of her by sale!' I tried time after +time to induce her to answer me, but she again gave way to tears and +added no more than: 'I don't really remember anything of my youth.' Of +this, anyhow, there can be no doubt; on a certain day the young man Feng +and the kidnapper met, said the money was paid down; but as the +kidnapper happened to be intoxicated, Ying Lien exclaimed, as she +sighed: 'My punishment has this day been consummated!' Later on again, +when she heard that young Feng would, after three days, have her taken +over to his house, she once more underwent a change and put on such a +sorrowful look that, unable to brook the sight of it, I waited till the +kidnapper went out, when I again told my wife to go and cheer her by +representing to her that this Mr. Feng's fixed purpose to wait for a +propitious day, on which to come and take her over, was ample proof that +he would not look upon her as a servant-girl. 'Furthermore,' (explained +my wife to her), 'he is a sort of person exceedingly given to fast +habits, and has at home ample means to live upon, so that if, besides, +with his extreme aversion to women, he actually purchases you now, at a +fancy price, you should be able to guess the issue, without any +explanation. You have to bear suspense only for two or three days, and +what need is there to be sorrowful and dejected?' After these +assurances, she became somewhat composed, flattering herself that she +would from henceforth have a home of her own. + +"But who would believe that the world is but full of disappointments! On +the succeeding day, it came about that the kidnapper again sold her to +the Hsueeh family! Had he disposed of her to any other party, no harm +would anyhow have resulted; but this young gentleman Hsueeh, who is +nicknamed by all, 'the Foolish and overbearing Prince,' is the most +perverse and passionate being in the whole world. What is more, he +throws money away as if it were dust. The day on which he gave the +thrashing with blows like falling leaves and flowing water, he dragged +(_lit_. pull alive, drag dead) Ying Lien away more dead than alive, +by sheer force, and no one, even up to this date, is aware whether she +be among the dead or the living. This young Feng had a spell of empty +happiness; for (not only) was his wish not fulfilled, but on the +contrary he spent money and lost his life; and was not this a lamentable +case?" + +When Yue-ts'un heard this account he also heaved a sigh. "This was +indeed," he observed, "a retribution in store for them! Their encounter +was likewise not accidental; for had it been, how was it that this Feng +Yuean took a fancy to Ying Lien? + +"This Ying Lien had, during all these years, to endure much harsh +treatment from the hands of the kidnapper, and had, at length, obtained +the means of escape; and being besides full of warm feeling, had he +actually made her his wife, and had they come together, the event would +certainly have been happy; but, as luck would have it, there occurred +again this contretemps. + +"This Hsueeh is, it is true, more laden with riches and honours than Feng +was, but when we bear in mind what kind of man he is he certainly, with +his large bevy of handmaids, and his licentious and inordinate habits, +cannot ever be held equal to Feng Yuean, who had set his heart upon one +person! This may appositely be termed a fantastic sentimental destiny, +which, by a strange coincidence, befell a couple consisting of an +ill-fated young fellow and girl! But why discuss third parties? The only +thing now is how to decide this case, so as to put things right." + +"Your worship," remarked the Retainer smiling, "displayed, in years gone +by, such great intelligence and decision, and how is it that today you, +on the contrary, become a person without any resources! Your servant has +heard that the promotion of your worship to fill up this office is due +to the exertions of the Chia and Wang families; and as this Hsueeh P'an +is a relative of the Chia mansion, why doesn't your worship take your +craft along with the stream, and bring, by the performance of a +kindness, this case to an issue, so that you may again in days to come, +be able to go and face the two Dukes Chia and Wang?" + +"What you suggest," replied Yue-ts'un, "is, of course, right enough; but +this case involves a human life, and honoured as I have been, by His +Majesty the Emperor, by a restoration to office, and selection to an +appointment, how can I at the very moment, when I may strain all my +energies to show my gratitude, by reason of a private consideration, set +the laws at nought? This is a thing which I really haven't the courage +to do." + +"What your worship says is naturally right and proper," remarked the +Retainer at these words, smiling sarcastically, "but at the present +stage of the world, such things cannot be done. Haven't you heard the +saying of a man of old to the effect that great men take action suitable +to the times. 'He who presses,' he adds, 'towards what is auspicious and +avoids what is inauspicious is a perfect man.' From what your worship +says, not only you couldn't, by any display of zeal, repay your +obligation to His Majesty, but, what is more, your own life you will +find it difficult to preserve. There are still three more considerations +necessary to insure a safe settlement." + +Yue-ts'un drooped his head for a considerable time. + +"What is there in your idea to be done?" he at length inquired. + +"Your servant," responded the Retainer, "has already devised a most +excellent plan. It's this: To-morrow, when your Lordship sits in court, +you should, merely for form's sake, make much ado, by despatching +letters and issuing warrants for the arrest of the culprits. The +murderer will naturally not be forthcoming; and as the plaintiffs will +be strong in their displeasure, you will of course have some members of +the clan of the Hsueeh family, together with a few servants and others, +taken into custody, and examined under torture, when your servant will +be behind the scenes to bring matters to a settlement, by bidding them +report that the victim had succumbed to a sudden ailment, and by urging +the whole number of the kindred, as well as the headmen of the place, to +hand in a declaration to that effect. Your Worship can aver that you +understand perfectly how to write charms in dust, and conjure the +spirit; having had an altar, covered with dust, placed in the court, you +should bid the military and people to come and look on to their heart's +content. Your Worship can give out that the divining spirit has +declared: 'that the deceased, Feng Yuean, and Hsueeh P'an had been enemies +in a former life, that having now met in the narrow road, their +destinies were consummated; that Hsueeh P'an has, by this time, +contracted some indescribable disease and perished from the effects of +the persecution of the spirit of Feng.' That as the calamity had +originated entirely from the action of the kidnapper, exclusive of +dealing with the kidnapper according to law, the rest need not be +interfered with, and so on. Your servant will be in the background to +speak to the kidnapper and urge him to make a full confession; and when +people find that the response of the divining spirit harmonizes with the +statements of the kidnapper, they will, as a matter of course, entertain +no suspicion. + +"The Hsueeh family have plenty of money, so that if your Worship +adjudicates that they should pay five hundred, they can afford it, or +one thousand will also be within their means; and this sum can be handed +to the Feng family to meet the outlay of burning incense and burial +expenses. The Feng family are, besides, people of not much consequence, +and (the fuss made by them) being simply for money, they too will, when +they have got the cash in hand, have nothing more to say. But may it +please your worship to consider carefully this plan and see what you +think of it?" + +"It isn't a safe course! It isn't a safe course!" Yue-ts'un observed as +he smiled. "Let me further think and deliberate; and possibly by +succeeding in suppressing public criticism, the matter might also be +settled." + +These two closed their consultation by a fixed determination, and the +next day, when he sat in judgment, he marked off a whole company of the +plaintiffs as well as of the accused, as were mentioned by name, and had +them brought before him. Yue-ts'un examined them with additional +minuteness, and discovered in point of fact, that the inmates of the +Feng family were extremely few, that they merely relied upon this charge +with the idea of obtaining some compensation for joss-sticks and +burials; and that the Hsueeh family, presuming on their prestige and +confident of patronage, had been obstinate in the refusal to make any +mutual concession, with the result that confusion had supervened, and +that no decision had been arrived at. + +Following readily the bent of his feelings, Yue-ts'un disregarded the +laws, and adjudicated this suit in a random way; and as the Feng family +came in for a considerable sum, with which to meet the expense for +incense and the funeral, they had, after all, not very much to say (in +the way of objections.) + +With all despatch, Yue-ts'un wrote and forwarded two letters, one to Chia +Cheng, and the other to Wang Tzu-t'eng, at that time commander-in-chief +of a Metropolitan Division, simply informing them: that the case, in +which their worthy nephew was concerned, had come to a close, and that +there was no need for them to give way to any extreme solicitude. + +This case had been settled through the exclusive action of the young +priest of the Hu Lu temple, now an official Retainer; and Yue-ts'un, +apprehending, on the other hand, lest he might in the presence of +others, divulge the circumstances connected with the days gone by, when +he was in a state of penury, naturally felt very unhappy in his mind. +But at a later period, he succeeded, by ultimately finding in him some +shortcoming, and deporting him to a far-away place, in setting his fears +at rest. + +But we will put Yue-ts'un on one side, and refer to the young man Hsueeh, +who purchased Ying Lien, and assaulted Feng Yuan to death. + +He too was a native of Chin Ling and belonged to a family literary +during successive generations; but this young Hsueeh had recently, when +of tender age, lost his father, and his widowed mother out of pity for +his being the only male issue and a fatherless child, could not help +doating on him and indulging him to such a degree, that when he, in +course of time, grew up to years of manhood, he was good for nothing. + +In their home, furthermore, was the wealth of a millionaire, and they +were, at this time, in receipt of an income from His Majesty's privy +purse, for the purvey of various articles. + +This young Hsueeh went at school under the name of P'an. His style was +Wen Ch'i. His natural habits were extravagant; his language haughty and +supercilious. He had, of course, also been to school, but all he knew +was a limited number of characters, and those not well. The whole day +long, his sole delight was in cock-fighting and horse-racing, rambling +over hills and doing the sights. + +Though a Purveyor, by Imperial appointment, he had not the least idea of +anything relating to matters of business or of the world. All he was +good for was: to take advantage of the friendships enjoyed by his +grandfather in days of old, to present himself at the Board of Revenue +to perfunctorily sign his name and to draw the allowance and rations; +while the rest of his affairs he, needless to say, left his partners and +old servants of the family to manage for him. + +His widowed mother, a Miss Wang, was the youngest sister of Wang +Tzu-t'eng, whose present office was that of Commander-in-Chief of a +Metropolitan Division; and was, with Madame Wang, the spouse of Chia +Cheng, of the Jung Kuo Mansion, sisters born of one mother. She was, in +this year, more or less forty years of age and had only one son: this +Hsueeh P'an. + +She also had a daughter, who was two years younger than Hsueeh P'an, and +whose infant name was Pao Ch'ai. She was beautiful in appearance, and +elegant and refined in deportment. In days gone by, when her father +lived, he was extremely fond of this girl, and had her read books and +study characters, so that, as compared with her brother, she was +actually a hundred times his superior. Having become aware, ever since +her father's death, that her brother could not appease the anguish of +her mother's heart, she at once dispelled all thoughts of books, and +gave her sole mind to needlework, to the menage and other such concerns, +so as to be able to participate in her mother's sorrow, and to bear the +fatigue in lieu of her. + +As of late the Emperor on the Throne held learning and propriety in high +esteem, His Majesty called together and singled out talent and ability, +upon which he deigned to display exceptional grace and favour. Besides +the number called forth from private life and chosen as Imperial +secondary wives, the daughters of families of hereditary official status +and renown were without exception, reported by name to the authorities, +and communicated to the Board, in anticipation of the selection for +maids in waiting to the Imperial Princesses and daughters of Imperial +Princes in their studies, and for filling up the offices of persons of +eminence, to urge them to become excellent. + +Ever since the death of Hsueeh P'an's father, the various assistants, +managers and partners, and other employes in the respective provinces, +perceiving how youthful Hsueeh P'an was in years, and how much he lacked +worldly experience, readily availed themselves of the time to begin +swindling and defrauding. The business, carried on in various different +places in the capital, gradually also began to fall off and to show a +deficit. + +Hsueeh P'an had all along heard that the capital was the _one_ place +for gaieties, and was just entertaining the idea of going on a visit, +when he eagerly jumped at the opportunity (that presented itself,) first +of all to escort his sister, who was going to wait for the selection, in +the second place to see his relatives, and in the third to enter +personally the capital, (professedly) to settle up long-standing +accounts, and to make arrangements for new outlays, but, in reality, +with the sole purpose of seeing the life and splendour of the +metropolis. + +He therefore, had, at an early period, got ready his baggage and small +luggage, as well as the presents for relatives and friends, things of +every description of local production, presents in acknowledgment of +favours received, and other such effects, and he was about to choose a +day to start on his journey when unexpectedly he came in the way of the +kidnapper who offered Ying Lien for sale. As soon as Hsueeh P'an saw how +_distinguee_ Ying Lien was in her appearance, he formed the +resolution of buying her; and when he encountered Feng Yuean, come with +the object of depriving him of her, he in the assurance of superiority, +called his sturdy menials together, who set upon Feng Yuean and beat him +to death. Forthwith collecting all the affairs of the household, and +entrusting them one by one to the charge of some members of the clan and +several elderly servants of the family, he promptly took his mother, +sister and others and after all started on his distant journey, while +the charge of homicide he, however, treated as child's play, flattering +himself that if he spent a few filthy pieces of money, there was no +doubt as to its settlement. + +He had been on his journey how many days, he had not reckoned, when, on +a certain day, as they were about to enter the capital, he furthermore +heard that his maternal uncle, Wang Tzu-t'eng, had been raised to the +rank of Supreme Governor of nine provinces, and had been honoured with +an Imperial command to leave the capital and inspect the frontiers. + +Hsueeh P'an was at heart secretly elated. "I was just lamenting," he +thought, "that on my visit to the capital, I would have my maternal +uncle to exercise control over me, and that I wouldn't be able to gambol +and frisk to my heart's content, but now that he is leaving the capital, +on promotion, it's evident that Heaven accomplishes man's wishes." + +As he consequently held consultation with his mother; "Though we have," +he argued, "several houses of our own in the capital, yet for these last +ten years or so, there has been no one to live in them, and the people +charged with the looking after them must unavoidably have stealthily +rented them to some one or other. It's therefore needful to let servants +go ahead to sweep and get the place in proper order, before we can very +well go ourselves." + +"What need is there to go to such trouble?" retorted his mother; "the +main object of our present visit to the capital is first of all to pay +our respects to our relatives and friends; and it is, either at your +elder uncle's, my brother's place, or at your other uncle's, my sister's +husband's home, both of which families' houses are extremely spacious, +that we can put up provisionally, and by and bye, at our ease, we can +send servants to make our house tidy. Now won't this be a considerable +saving of trouble?" + +"My uncle, your brother," suggested Hsueeh P'an, "has just been raised to +an appointment in an outside province, so that, of course, in his house, +things must be topsy-turvey, on account of his departure; and should we +betake ourselves, like a hive of bees and a long trail, to him for +shelter; won't we appear very inconsiderate?" + +"Your uncle," remarked his mother, "is, it is true, going on promotion, +but there's besides the house of your aunt, my sister. What is more, +during these last few years from both your uncle's and aunt's have, time +after time, been sent messages, and letters forwarded, asking us to come +over; and now that we've come, is it likely, though your uncle is busy +with his preparations to start on his journey, that your aunt of the +Chia family won't do all she can to press us to stay? Besides, were we +to have our house got ready in a scramble, won't it make people think it +strange? I however know your idea very well that were we kept to stay at +your uncle's and aunt's, you won't escape being under strict restraint, +unlike what would be the case were we to live in our own house, as you +would be free then to act as you please! Such being the case, go, on +your own account, and choose some place to take up your quarters in, +while I myself, who have been separated from your aunt and cousins for +these several years, would however like to stay with them for a few +days; and I'll go along with your sister and look up your aunt at her +home. What do you say; will this suit you or not?" + +Hsueeh P'an, upon hearing his mother speak in this strain, knew well +enough that he could not bring her round from her determination; and he +had no help but to issue the necessary directions to the servants to +make straight for the Jung Kuo mansion. Madame Wang had by this time +already come to know that in the lawsuit, in which Hsueeh P'an was +concerned, Chia Yue-ts'un had fortunately intervened and lent his good +offices, and was at length more composed in her mind. But when she again +saw that her eldest brother had been advanced to a post on the frontier, +she was just deploring that, deprived of the intercourse of the +relatives of her mother's family, how doubly lonely she would feel; +when, after the lapse of a few days, some one of the household brought +the unexpected announcement that "our lady, your sister, has, with the +young gentleman, the young lady and her whole household, entered the +capital and have dismounted from their vehicles outside the main +entrance." This news so delighted madame Wang that she rushed out, with +a few attendants, to greet them in the large Entrance Hall, and brought +Mrs. Hsueeh and the others into her house. + +The two sisters were now reunited, at an advanced period of their lives, +so that mixed feelings of sorrow and joy thronged together, but on these +it is, of course, needless to dilate. + +After conversing for a time on what had occurred, subsequent to their +separation, madame Wang took them to pay their obeisance to dowager lady +Chia. They then handed over the various kinds of presents and indigenous +articles, and after the whole family had been introduced, a banquet was +also spread to greet the guests. + +Hsueeh P'an, having paid his respects to Chia Cheng and Chia Lien, was +likewise taken to see Chia She, Chia Chen and the other members. + +Chia Cheng sent a messenger to tell madame Wang that "'aunt' Hsueeh had +already seen many springs and autumns, while their nephew was of tender +age, with no experience, so that there was every fear, were he to live +outside, that something would again take place. In the South-east corner +of our compound," (he sent word,) "there are in the Pear Fragrance +Court, over ten apartments, all of which are vacant and lying idle; and +were we to tell the servants to sweep them, and invite 'aunt' Hsueeh and +the young gentleman and lady to take up their quarters there, it would +be an extremely wise thing." + +Madame Wang had in fact been entertaining the wish to keep them to live +with them, when dowager lady Chia also sent some one to say that, "Mrs. +Hsueeh should be asked to put up in the mansion in order that a greater +friendliness should exist between them all." + +Mrs. Hsueeh herself had all along been desirous to live in one place with +her relatives, so as to be able to keep a certain check over her son, +fearing that, if they lived in a separate house outside, the natural +bent of his habits would run riot, and that some calamity would be +brought on; and she therefore, there and then, expressed her sense of +appreciation, and accepted the invitation. She further privately told +madame Wang in clear terms, that every kind of daily expense and general +contribution would have to be entirely avoided and withdrawn as that +would be the only thing to justify her to make any protracted stay. And +madame Wang aware that she had, in her home, no difficulty in this line, +promptly in fact complied with her wishes. + +From this date it was that "aunt" Hsueeh and her children took up their +quarters in the Pear Fragrance Court. + +This Court of Pear Fragrance had, we must explain, been at one time used +as a place for the quiet retirement of the Duke Jung in his advanced +years. It was on a small scale, but ingeniously laid out. There were, at +least, over ten structures. The front halls and the back houses were all +in perfect style. There was a separate door giving on to the street, and +the people of the household of Hsueeh P'an used this door to go in and +out. At the south-west quarter, there was also a side door, which +communicated with a narrow roadway. Beyond this narrow road, was the +eastern court of madame Wang's principal apartment; so that every day, +either after her repast, or in the evening, Mrs. Hsueeh would readily +come over and converse, on one thing and another, with dowager lady +Chia, or have a chat with madame Wang; while Pao-ch'ai came together, +day after day, with Tai yue, Ying-ch'un, her sisters and the other girls, +either to read, to play chess, or to do needlework, and the pleasure +which they derived was indeed perfect. + +Hsueeh P'an however had all along from the first instance, been loth to +live in the Chia mansion, as he dreaded that with the discipline +enforced by his uncle, he would not be able to be his own master; but +his mother had made up her mind so positively to remain there, and what +was more, every one in the Chia mansion was most pressing in their +efforts to keep them, that there was no alternative for him but to take +up his quarters temporarily there, while he at the same time directed +servants to go and sweep the apartments of their own house, with a view +that they should move into them when they were ready. + +But, contrary to expectation, after they had been in their quarters for +not over a month, Hsueeh P'an came to be on intimate relations with all +the young men among the kindred of the Chia mansion, the half of whom +were extravagant in their habits, so that great was, of course, his +delight to frequent them. To-day, they would come together to drink +wine; the next day to look at flowers. They even assembled to gamble, to +dissipate and to go everywhere and anywhere; leading, with all their +enticements, Hsueeh P'an so far astray, that he became far worse, by a +hundred times, than he was hitherto. + +Although it must be conceded that Chia Cheng was in the education of his +children quite correct, and in the control of his family quite +systematic, yet in the first place, the clan was so large and the +members so numerous, that he was unable to attend to the entire +supervision; and, in the second place, the head of the family, at this +period, was Chia Chen, who, as the eldest grandchild of the Ning +mansion, had likewise now come into the inheritance of the official +status, with the result that all matters connected with the clan +devolved upon his sole and exclusive control. In the third place, public +as well as private concerns were manifold and complex, and being a man +of negligent disposition, he estimated ordinary affairs of so little +consequence that any respite from his official duties he devoted to no +more than the study of books and the playing of chess. + +Furthermore, this Pear Fragrance Court was separated by two rows of +buildings from his quarters and was also provided with a separate door +opening into the street, so that, being able at their own heart's desire +to go out and to come in, these several young fellows could well indulge +their caprices, and gratify the bent of their minds. + +Hence it was that Hsueeh P'an, in course of time gradually extinguished +from his memory every idea of shifting their quarters. + +But what transpired, on subsequent days, the following chapter will +explain. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + The spirit of Chia Pao-yue visits the confines of the Great Void. + The Monitory Vision Fairy expounds, in ballads, the Dream of the Red + Chamber. + + +Having in the fourth Chapter explained, to some degree, the +circumstances attending the settlement of the mother and children of the +Hsueeh family in the Jung mansion, and other incidental matters, we will +now revert to Lin Tai-yue. + +Ever since her arrival in the Jung mansion, dowager lady Chia showed her +the highest sympathy and affection, so that in everything connected with +sleeping, eating, rising and accommodation she was on the same footing +as Pao-yue; with the result that Ying Ch'un, Hsi Ch'un and T'an Ch'un, +her three granddaughters, had after all to take a back seat. In fact, +the intimate and close friendliness and love which sprung up between the +two persons Pao-yue and Tai-yue, was, in the same degree, of an +exceptional kind, as compared with those existing between the others. By +daylight they were wont to walk together, and to sit together. At night, +they would desist together, and rest together. Really it was a case of +harmony in language and concord in ideas, of the consistency of varnish +or of glue, (a close friendship), when at this unexpected juncture there +came this girl, Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai, who, though not very much older in +years (than the others), was, nevertheless, in manner so correct, and in +features so beautiful that the consensus of opinion was that Tai-yue +herself could not come up to her standard. + +What is more, in her ways Pao-Ch'ai was so full of good tact, so +considerate and accommodating, so unlike Tai-yue, who was supercilious, +self-confident, and without any regard for the world below, that the +natural consequence was that she soon completely won the hearts of the +lower classes. Even the whole number of waiting-maids would also for the +most part, play and joke with Pao-ch'ai. Hence it was that Tai-yue +fostered, in her heart, considerable feelings of resentment, but of this +however Pao-ch'ai had not the least inkling. + +Pao-yue was, likewise, in the prime of his boyhood, and was, besides, as +far as the bent of his natural disposition was concerned, in every +respect absurd and perverse; regarding his cousins, whether male or +female, one and all with one common sentiment, and without any +distinction whatever between the degrees of distant or close +relationship. Sitting and sleeping, as he now was under the same roof +with Tai-yue in dowager lady Chia's suite of rooms, he naturally became +comparatively more friendly with her than with his other cousins; and +this friendliness led to greater intimacy and this intimacy once +established, rendered unavoidable the occurrence of the blight of +harmony from unforeseen slight pretexts. + +These two had had on this very day, for some unknown reason, words +between them more or less unfriendly, and Tai-yue was again sitting all +alone in her room, giving way to tears. Pao-yue was once more within +himself quite conscience-smitten for his ungraceful remarks, and coming +forward, he humbly made advances, until, at length, Tai-yue little by +little came round. + +As the plum blossom, in the eastern part of the garden of the Ning +mansion, was in full bloom, Chia Chen's spouse, Mrs. Yu, made +preparations for a collation, (purposing) to send invitations to dowager +lady Chia, mesdames Hsing, and Wang, and the other members of the +family, to come and admire the flowers; and when the day arrived the +first thing she did was to take Chia Jung and his wife, the two of them, +and come and ask them round in person. Dowager lady Chia and the other +inmates crossed over after their early meal; and they at once promenaded +the Hui Fang (Concentrated Fragrance) Garden. First tea was served, and +next wine; but the entertainment was no more than a family banquet of +the kindred of the two mansions of Ning and Jung, so that there was a +total lack of any novel or original recreation that could be put on +record. + +After a little time, Pao-yue felt tired and languid and inclined for his +midday siesta. "Take good care," dowager lady Chia enjoined some of +them, "and stay with him, while he rests for a while, when he can come +back;" whereupon Chia Jung's wife, Mrs. Ch'in, smiled and said with +eagerness: "We got ready in here a room for uncle Pao, so let your +venerable ladyship set your mind at ease. Just hand him over to my +charge, and he will be quite safe. Mothers and sisters," she continued, +addressing herself to Pao-yue's nurses and waiting maids, "invite uncle +Pao to follow me in here." + +Dowager lady Chia had always been aware of the fact that Mrs. Ch'in was +a most trustworthy person, naturally courteous and scrupulous, and in +every action likewise so benign and gentle; indeed the most estimable +among the whole number of her great grandsons' wives, so that when she +saw her about to go and attend to Pao-yue, she felt that, for a +certainty, everything would be well. + +Mrs. Ch'in, there and then, led away a company of attendants, and came +into the rooms inside the drawing room. Pao-yue, upon raising his head, +and catching sight of a picture hung on the upper wall, representing a +human figure, in perfect style, the subject of which was a portrait of +Yen Li, speedily felt his heart sink within him. + +There was also a pair of scrolls, the text of which was: + + A thorough insight into worldly matters arises from knowledge; + A clear perception of human nature emanates from literary lore. + +On perusal of these two sentences, albeit the room was sumptuous and +beautifully laid out, he would on no account remain in it. "Let us go at +once," he hastened to observe, "let us go at once." + +Mrs. Ch'in upon hearing his objections smiled. "If this," she said, "is +really not nice, where are you going? if you won't remain here, well +then come into my room." + +Pao-yue nodded his head and gave a faint grin. + +"Where do you find the propriety," a nurse thereupon interposed, "of an +uncle going to sleep in the room of a nephew's wife?" + +"Ai ya!" exclaimed Mrs. Ch'in laughing, "I don't mind whether he gets +angry or not (at what I say); but how old can he be as to reverentially +shun all these things? Why my brother was with me here last month; +didn't you see him? he's, true enough, of the same age as uncle Pao, but +were the two of them to stand side by side, I suspect that he would be +much higher in stature." + +"How is it," asked Pao-yue, "that I didn't see him? Bring him along and +let me have a look at him!" + +"He's separated," they all ventured as they laughed, "by a distance of +twenty or thirty li, and how can he be brought along? but you'll see him +some day." + +As they were talking, they reached the interior of Mrs. Ch'in's +apartments. As soon as they got in, a very faint puff of sweet fragrance +was wafted into their nostrils. Pao-yue readily felt his eyes itch and +his bones grow weak. "What a fine smell!" he exclaimed several +consecutive times. + +Upon entering the apartments, and gazing at the partition wall, he saw a +picture the handiwork of T'ang Po-hu, consisting of Begonias drooping in +the spring time; on either side of which was one of a pair of scrolls, +written by Ch'in Tai-hsue, a Literary Chancellor of the Sung era, running +as follows: + + A gentle chill doth circumscribe the dreaming man, because the spring + is cold. + The fragrant whiff, which wafts itself into man's nose, is the perfume + of wine! + +On the table was a mirror, one which had been placed, in days of yore, +in the Mirror Palace of the Emperor Wu Tse-t'ien. On one side stood a +gold platter, in which Fei Yen, who lived in the Ch'ao state, used to +stand and dance. In this platter, was laid a quince, which An Lu-shan +had flung at the Empress T'ai Chen, inflicting a wound on her breast. In +the upper part of the room, stood a divan ornamented with gems, on which +the Emperor's daughter, Shou Ch'ang, was wont to sleep, in the Han Chang +Palace Hanging, were curtains embroidered with strings of pearls, by +T'ung Ch'ang, the Imperial Princess. + +"It's nice in here, it's nice in here," exclaimed Pao-yue with a chuckle. + +"This room of mine," observed Mrs. Ch'in smilingly, "is I think, good +enough for even spirits to live in!" and, as she uttered these words, +she with her own hands, opened a gauze coverlet, which had been washed +by Hsi Shih, and removed a bridal pillow, which had been held in the +arms of Hung Niang. Instantly, the nurses attended to Pao-yue, until he +had laid down comfortably; when they quietly dispersed, leaving only the +four waiting maids: Hsi Jen, Ch'iu Wen, Ch'ing Wen and She Yueh to keep +him company. + +"Mind be careful, as you sit under the eaves," Mrs. Ch'in recommended +the young waiting maids, "that the cats do not start a fight!" + +Pao-yue then closed his eyes, and, little by little, became drowsy, and +fell asleep. + +It seemed to him just as if Mrs. Ch'in was walking ahead of him. +Forthwith, with listless and unsettled step, he followed Mrs. Ch'in to +some spot or other, where he saw carnation-like railings, jade-like +steps, verdant trees and limpid pools--a spot where actually no trace of +any human being could be met with, where of the shifting mundane dust +little had penetrated. + +Pao-yue felt, in his dream, quite delighted. "This place," he mused, "is +pleasant, and I may as well spend my whole lifetime in here! though I +may have to lose my home, I'm quite ready for the sacrifice, for it's +far better being here than being flogged, day after day, by father, +mother, and teacher." + +While he pondered in this erratic strain, he suddenly heard the voice of +some human being at the back of the rocks, giving vent to this song: + + Like scattering clouds doth fleet a vernal dream; + The transient flowers pass like a running stream; + Maidens and youths bear this, ye all, in mind; + In useless grief what profit will ye find? + +Pao-yue perceived that the voice was that of a girl. The song was barely +at an end, when he soon espied in the opposite direction, a beautiful +girl advancing with majestic and elastic step; a girl quite unlike any +ordinary mortal being. There is this poem, which gives an adequate +description of her: + + Lo she just quits the willow bank; and sudden now she issues from the + flower-bedecked house; + As onward alone she speeds, she startles the birds perched in the + trees, by the pavilion; to which as she draws nigh, her shadow + flits by the verandah! + Her fairy clothes now flutter in the wind! a fragrant perfume like + unto musk or olea is wafted in the air; Her apparel lotus-like is + sudden wont to move; and the jingle of her ornaments strikes the + ear. + Her dimpled cheeks resemble, as they smile, a vernal peach; her + kingfisher coiffure is like a cumulus of clouds; her lips part + cherry-like; her pomegranate-like teeth conceal a fragrant + breath. + Her slender waist, so beauteous to look at, is like the skipping snow + wafted by a gust of wind; the sheen of her pearls and kingfisher + trinkets abounds with splendour, green as the feathers of a duck, + and yellow as the plumes of a goose; + Now she issues to view, and now is hidden among the flowers; beautiful + she is when displeased, beautiful when in high spirits; with + lissome step, she treads along the pond, as if she soars on wings + or sways in the air. + Her eyebrows are crescent moons, and knit under her smiles; she + speaks, and yet she seems no word to utter; her lotus-like feet + with ease pursue their course; she stops, and yet she seems still + to be in motion; the charms of her figure all vie with ice in + purity, and in splendour with precious gems; Lovely is her + brilliant attire, so full of grandeur and refined grace. + Loveable her countenance, as if moulded from some fragrant substance, + or carved from white jade; elegant is her person, like a phoenix, + dignified like a dragon soaring high. + What is her chastity like? Like a white plum in spring with snow + nestling in its broken skin; Her purity? Like autumn orchids + bedecked with dewdrops. + Her modesty? Like a fir-tree growing in a barren plain; Her + comeliness? Like russet clouds reflected in a limpid pool. + Her gracefulness? Like a dragon in motion wriggling in a stream; + Her refinement? Like the rays of the moon shooting on to a cool + river. + Sure is she to put Hsi Tzu to shame! Bound to put Wang Ch'iang to the + blush! What a remarkable person! Where was she born? and whence + does she come? + One thing is true that in Fairy-land there is no second like her! that + in the Purple Courts of Heaven there is no one fit to be her peer! + Forsooth, who can it be, so surpassingly beautiful! + +Pao-yue, upon realising that she was a fairy, was much elated; and with +eagerness advanced and made a bow. + +"My divine sister," he ventured, as he put on a smile. "I don't know +whence you come, and whither you are going. Nor have I any idea what +this place is, but I make bold to entreat that you would take my hand +and lead me on." + +"My abode," replied the Fairy, "is above the Heavens of Divested +Animosities, and in the ocean of Discharged Sorrows. I'm the Fairy of +Monitory Vision, of the cave of Drooping Fragrance, in the mount of +Emitted Spring, within the confines of the Great Void. I preside over +the voluptuous affections and sensual debts among the mortal race, and +supervise in the dusty world, the envies of women and the lusts of man. +It's because I've recently come to hear that the retribution for +voluptuousness extends up to this place, that I betake myself here in +order to find suitable opportunities of disseminating mutual affections. +My encounter with you now is also not a matter of accident! This spot is +not distant from my confines. I have nothing much there besides a cup of +the tender buds of tea plucked by my own hands, and a pitcher of +luscious wine, fermented by me as well as several spritelike singing and +dancing maidens of great proficiency, and twelve ballads of spiritual +song, recently completed, on the Dream of the Red Chamber; but won't you +come along with me for a stroll?" + +Pao-yue, at this proposal, felt elated to such an extraordinary degree +that he could skip from joy, and there and then discarding from his mind +all idea of where Mrs. Ch'in was, he readily followed the Fairy. + +They reached some spot, where there was a stone tablet, put up in a +horizontal position, on which were visible the four large characters: +"The confines of the Great Void," on either side of which was one of a +pair of scrolls, with the two antithetical sentences: + + When falsehood stands for truth, truth likewise becomes false; + When naught be made to aught, aught changes into naught! + +Past the Portal stood the door of a Palace, and horizontally, above this +door, were the four large characters: "The Sea of Retribution, the +Heaven of Love." There were also a pair of scrolls, with the inscription +in large characters: + + Passion, alas! thick as the earth, and lofty as the skies, from ages + past to the present hath held incessant sway; + How pitiful your lot! ye lustful men and women envious, that your + voluptuous debts should be so hard to pay! + +Pao-yue, after perusal, communed with his own heart. "Is it really so!" +he thought, "but I wonder what implies the passion from old till now, +and what are the voluptuous debts! Henceforward, I must enlighten +myself!" + +Pao-yue was bent upon this train of thoughts when he unwittingly +attracted several evil spirits into his heart, and with speedy step he +followed in the track of the fairy, and entered two rows of doors when +he perceived that the Lateral Halls were, on both sides, full of tablets +and scrolls, the number of which he could not in one moment ascertain. +He however discriminated in numerous places the inscriptions: The Board +of Lustful Love; the Board of contracted grudges; The Board of Matutinal +sobs; the Board of nocturnal tears; the Board of vernal affections; and +the Board of autumnal anguish. + +After he had perused these inscriptions, he felt impelled to turn round +and address the Fairy. "May I venture to trouble my Fairy," he said, "to +take me along for a turn into the interior of each of these Boards? May +I be allowed, I wonder, to do so?" + +"Inside each of these Boards," explained the Fairy, "are accumulated the +registers with the records of all women of the whole world; of those who +have passed away, as well as of those who have not as yet come into it, +and you, with your mortal eyes and human body, could not possibly be +allowed to know anything in anticipation." + +But would Pao-yue, upon hearing these words, submit to this decree? He +went on to implore her permission again and again, until the Fairy +casting her eye upon the tablet of the board in front of her observed, +"Well, all right! you may go into this board and reap some transient +pleasure." + +Pao-yue was indescribably joyous, and, as he raised his head, he +perceived that the text on the tablet consisted of the three characters: +the Board of Ill-fated lives; and that on each side was a scroll with +the inscription: + + Upon one's self are mainly brought regrets in spring and autumn gloom; + A face, flowerlike may be and moonlike too; but beauty all for whom? + +Upon perusal of the scroll Pao-yue was, at once, the more stirred with +admiration; and, as he crossed the door, and reached the interior, the +only things that struck his eye were about ten large presses, the whole +number of which were sealed with paper slips; on every one of these +slips, he perceived that there were phrases peculiar to each province. + +Pao-yue was in his mind merely bent upon discerning, from the rest, the +slip referring to his own native village, when he espied, on the other +side, a slip with the large characters: "the Principal Record of the +Twelve Maidens of Chin Ling." + +"What is the meaning," therefore inquired Pao-yue, "of the Principal +Record of the Twelve Maidens of Chin Ling?" + +"As this is the record," explained the Fairy, "of the most excellent and +prominent girls in your honourable province, it is, for this reason, +called the Principal Record." + +"I've often heard people say," observed Pao-yue, "that Chin Ling is of +vast extent; and how can there only be twelve maidens in it! why, at +present, in our own family alone, there are more or less several +hundreds of young girls!" + +The Fairy gave a faint smile. "Through there be," she rejoined, "so +large a number of girls in your honourable province, those only of any +note have been selected and entered in this record. The two presses, on +the two sides, contain those who are second best; while, for all who +remain, as they are of the ordinary run, there are, consequently, no +registers to make any entry of them in." + +Pao-yue upon looking at the press below, perceived the inscription: +"Secondary Record of the twelve girls of Chin Ling;" while again in +another press was inscribed: "Supplementary Secondary Record of the +Twelve girls of Chin Ling." Forthwith stretching out his hand, Pao-yue +opened first the doors of the press, containing the "supplementary +secondary Record," extracted a volume of the registers, and opened it. +When he came to examine it, he saw on the front page a representation of +something, which, though bearing no resemblance to a human being, +presented, at the same time, no similitude to scenery; consisting simply +of huge blotches made with ink. The whole paper was full of nothing else +but black clouds and turbid mists, after which appeared the traces of a +few characters, explaining that-- + + A cloudless moon is rare forsooth to see, + And pretty clouds so soon scatter and flee! + Thy heart is deeper than the heavens are high, + Thy frame consists of base ignominy! + Thy looks and clever mind resentment will provoke, + And thine untimely death vile slander will evoke! + A loving noble youth in vain for love will yearn. + +After reading these lines, Pao-yue looked below, where was pictured a +bouquet of fresh flowers and a bed covered with tattered matting. There +were also several distiches running as follows: + + Thy self-esteem for kindly gentleness is but a fancy vain! + Thy charms that they can match the olea or orchid, but thoughts inane! + While an actor will, envious lot! with fortune's smiles be born, + A youth of noble birth will, strange to say, be luckless and forlorn. + +Pao-yue perused these sentences, but could not unfold their meaning, so, +at once discarding this press, he went over and opened the door of the +press of the "Secondary Records" and took out a book, in which, on +examination, he found a representation of a twig of Olea fragrans. +Below, was a pond, the water of which was parched up and the mud dry, +the lotus flowers decayed, and even the roots dead. At the back were +these lines: + + The lotus root and flower but one fragrance will give; + How deep alas! the wounds of thy life's span will be; + What time a desolate tree in two places will live, + Back to its native home the fragrant ghost will flee! + +Pao-yue read these lines, but failed to understand what they meant. He +then went and fetched the "Principal Record," and set to looking it +over. He saw on the first page a picture of two rotten trees, while on +these trees was suspended a jade girdle. There was also a heap of snow, +and under this snow was a golden hair-pin. There were in addition these +four lines in verse: + + Bitter thy cup will be, e'en were the virtue thine to stop the loom, + Thine though the gift the willow fluff to sing, pity who will thy + doom? + High in the trees doth hang the girdle of white jade, + And lo! among the snow the golden pin is laid! + +To Pao-yue the meaning was again, though he read the lines over, quite +unintelligible. He was, about to make inquiries, but he felt convinced +that the Fairy would be both to divulge the decrees of Heaven; and +though intent upon discarding the book, he could not however tear +himself away from it. Forthwith, therefore, he prosecuted a further +perusal of what came next, when he caught sight of a picture of a bow. +On this bow hung a citron. There was also this ode: + + Full twenty years right and wrong to expound will be thy fate! + What place pomegranate blossoms come in bloom will face the Palace + Gate! + The third portion of spring, of the first spring in beauty short will + fall! + When tiger meets with hare thou wilt return to sleep perennial. + +Further on, was also a sketch of two persons flying a kite; a broad +expanse of sea, and a large vessel; while in this vessel was a girl, who +screened her face bedewed with tears. These four lines were likewise +visible: + + Pure and bright will be thy gifts, thy purpose very high; + But born thou wilt be late in life and luck be passed by; + At the tomb feast thou wilt repine tearful along the stream, + East winds may blow, but home miles off will be, even in dream. + +After this followed a picture of several streaks of fleeting clouds, and +of a creek whose waters were exhausted, with the text: + + Riches and honours too what benefit are they? + In swaddling clothes thou'lt be when parents pass away; + The rays will slant, quick as the twinkle of an eye; + The Hsiang stream will recede, the Ch'u clouds onward fly! + +Then came a picture of a beautiful gem, which had fallen into the mire, +with the verse: + + Thine aim is chastity, but chaste thou wilt not be; + Abstraction is thy faith, but void thou may'st not see; + Thy precious, gemlike self will, pitiful to say, + Into the mundane mire collapse at length some day. + +A rough sketch followed of a savage wolf, in pursuit of a beautiful +girl, trying to pounce upon her as he wished to devour her. This was the +burden of the distich: + + Thy mate is like a savage wolf prowling among the hills; + His wish once gratified a haughty spirit his heart fills! + Though fair thy form like flowers or willows in the golden moon, + Upon the yellow beam to hang will shortly be its doom. + +Below, was an old temple, in the interior of which was a beautiful +person, just in the act of reading the religious manuals, as she sat all +alone; with this inscription: + + In light esteem thou hold'st the charms of the three springs for their + short-liv'd fate; + Thine attire of past years to lay aside thou chang'st, a Taoist dress + to don; + How sad, alas! of a reputed house and noble kindred the scion, + Alone, behold! she sleeps under a glimmering light, an old idol for + mate. + +Next in order came a hill of ice, on which stood a hen-phoenix, while +under it was this motto: + + When time ends, sure coincidence, the phoenix doth alight; + The talents of this human form all know and living see, + For first to yield she kens, then to control, and third genial to be; + But sad to say, things in Chin Ling are in more sorry plight. + +This was succeeded by a representation of a desolate village, and a +dreary inn. A pretty girl sat in there, spinning thread. These were the +sentiments affixed below: + + When riches will have flown will honours then avail? + When ruin breaks your home, e'en relatives will fail! + But sudden through the aid extended to Dame Liu, + A friend in need fortune will make to rise for you. + +Following these verses, was drawn a pot of Orchids, by the side of +which, was a beautiful maiden in a phoenix-crown and cloudy mantle +(bridal dress); and to this picture was appended this device: + + What time spring wanes, then fades the bloom of peach as well as plum! + Who ever can like a pot of the olea be winsome! + With ice thy purity will vie, vain their envy will be! + In vain a laughing-stock people will try to make of thee. + +At the end of this poetical device, came the representation of a lofty +edifice, on which was a beauteous girl, suspending herself on a beam to +commit suicide; with this verse: + + Love high as heav'n, love ocean-wide, thy lovely form will don; + What time love will encounter love, license must rise wanton; + Why hold that all impiety in Jung doth find its spring, + The source of trouble, verily, is centred most in Ning. + +Pao-yue was still bent upon prosecuting his perusal, when the Fairy +perceiving that his intellect was eminent and bright, and his natural +talents quickwitted, and apprehending lest the decrees of heaven should +be divulged, hastily closed the Book of Record, and addressed herself to +Pao-yue. "Come along with me," she said smiling, "and see some wonderful +scenery. What's the need of staying here and beating this gourd of +ennui?" + +In a dazed state, Pao-yue listlessly discarded the record, and again +followed in the footsteps of the Fairy. On their arrival at the back, he +saw carnation portieres, and embroidered curtains, ornamented pillars, +and carved eaves. But no words can adequately give an idea of the +vermilion apartments glistening with splendour, of the floors garnished +with gold, of the snow reflecting lustrous windows, of the palatial +mansions made of gems. He also saw fairyland flowers, beautiful and +fragrant, and extraordinary vegetation, full of perfume. The spot was +indeed elysian. + +He again heard the Fairy observe with a smiling face: "Come out all of +you at once and greet the honoured guest!" + +These words were scarcely completed, when he espied fairies walk out of +the mansion, all of whom were, with their dangling lotus sleeves, and +their fluttering feather habiliments, as comely as spring flowers, and +as winsome as the autumn moon. As soon as they caught sight of Pao-yue, +they all, with one voice, resentfully reproached the Monitory Vision +Fairy. "Ignorant as to who the honoured guest could be," they argued, +"we hastened to come out to offer our greetings simply because you, +elder sister, had told us that, on this day, and at this very time, +there would be sure to come on a visit, the spirit of the younger sister +of Chiang Chu. That's the reason why we've been waiting for ever so +long; and now why do you, in lieu of her, introduce this vile object to +contaminate the confines of pure and spotless maidens?" + +As soon as Pao-yue heard these remarks, he was forthwith plunged in such +a state of consternation that he would have retired, but he found it +impossible to do so. In fact, he felt the consciousness of the foulness +and corruption of his own nature quite intolerable. The Monitory Vision +Fairy promptly took Pao-yue's hand in her own, and turning towards her +younger sisters, smiled and explained: "You, and all of you, are not +aware of the why and wherefore. To-day I did mean to have gone to the +Jung mansion to fetch Chiang Chu, but as I went by the Ning mansion, I +unexpectedly came across the ghosts of the two dukes of Jung and Ning, +who addressed me in this wise: 'Our family has, since the dynasty +established itself on the Throne, enjoyed merit and fame, which pervaded +many ages, and riches and honours transmitted from generation to +generation. One hundred years have already elapsed, but this good +fortune has now waned, and this propitious luck is exhausted; so much so +that they could not be retrieved! Our sons and grandsons may be many, +but there is no one among them who has the means to continue the family +estate, with the exception of our kindred grandson, Pao-yue alone, who, +though perverse in disposition and wayward by nature, is nevertheless +intelligent and quick-witted and qualified in a measure to give effect +to our hopes. But alas! the good fortune of our family is entirely +decayed, so that we fear there is no person to incite him to enter the +right way! Fortunately you worthy fairy come at an unexpected moment, +and we venture to trust that you will, above all things, warn him +against the foolish indulgence of inordinate desire, lascivious +affections and other such things, in the hope that he may, at your +instigation, be able to escape the snares of those girls who will allure +him with their blandishments, and to enter on the right track; and we +two brothers will be ever grateful.' + +"On language such as this being addressed to me, my feelings of +commiseration naturally burst forth; and I brought him here, and bade +him, first of all, carefully peruse the records of the whole lives of +the maidens in his family, belonging to the three grades, the upper, +middle and lower, but as he has not yet fathomed the import, I have +consequently led him into this place to experience the vision of +drinking, eating, singing and licentious love, in the hope, there is no +saying, of his at length attaining that perception." + +Having concluded these remarks, she led Pao-yue by the hand into the +apartment, where he felt a whiff of subtle fragrance, but what it was +that reached his nostrils he could not tell. + +To Pao-yue's eager and incessant inquiries, the Fairy made reply with a +sardonic smile. "This perfume," she said, "is not to be found in the +world, and how could you discern what it is? This is made of the essence +of the first sprouts of rare herbs, growing on all hills of fame and +places of superior excellence, admixed with the oil of every species of +splendid shrubs in precious groves, and is called the marrow of +Conglomerated Fragrance." + +At these words Pao-yue was, of course, full of no other feeling than +wonder. + +The whole party advanced and took their seats, and a young maidservant +presented tea, which Pao-yue found of pure aroma, of excellent flavour +and of no ordinary kind. "What is the name of this tea?" he therefore +asked; upon which the Fairy explained. "This tea," she added, +"originates from the Hills of Emitted Spring and the Valley of Drooping +Fragrance, and is, besides, brewed in the night dew, found on spiritual +plants and divine leaves. The name of this tea is 'one thousand red in +one hole.'" + +At these words Pao-yue nodded his head, and extolled its qualities. +Espying in the room lutes, with jasper mountings, and tripods, inlaid +with gems, antique paintings, and new poetical works, which were to be +seen everywhere, he felt more than ever in a high state of delight. +Below the windows, were also shreds of velvet sputtered about and a +toilet case stained with the traces of time and smudged with cosmetic; +while on the partition wall was likewise suspended a pair of scrolls, +with the inscription: + + A lonesome, small, ethereal, beauteous nook! + What help is there, but Heaven's will to brook? + +Pao-yue having completed his inspection felt full of admiration, and +proceeded to ascertain the names and surnames of the Fairies. One was +called the Fairy of Lustful Dreams; another "the High Ruler of +Propagated Passion;" the name of one was "the Golden Maiden of +Perpetuated Sorrow;" of another the "Intelligent Maiden of Transmitted +Hatred." (In fact,) the respective Taoist appellations were not of one +and the same kind. + +In a short while, young maid-servants came in and laid the table, put +the chairs in their places, and spread out wines and eatables. There +were actually crystal tankards overflowing with luscious wines, and +amber glasses full to the brim with pearly strong liquors. But still +less need is there to give any further details about the sumptuousness +of the refreshments. + +Pao-yue found it difficult, on account of the unusual purity of the +bouquet of the wine, to again restrain himself from making inquiries +about it. + +"This wine," observed the Monitory Dream Fairy, "is made of the twigs of +hundreds of flowers, and the juice of ten thousands of trees, with the +addition of must composed of unicorn marrow, and yeast prepared with +phoenix milk. Hence the name of 'Ten thousand Beauties in one Cup' was +given to it." + +Pao-yue sang its incessant praise, and, while he sipped his wine, twelve +dancing girls came forward, and requested to be told what songs they +were to sing. + +"Take," suggested the Fairy, "the newly-composed Twelve Sections of the +Dream of the Red Chamber, and sing them." + +The singing girls signified their obedience, and forthwith they lightly +clapped the castagnettes and gently thrummed the virginals. These were +the words which they were heard to sing: + + At the time of the opening of the heavens and the laying out of the + earth chaos prevailed. + +They had just sung this one line when the Fairy exclaimed: "This ballad +is unlike the ballads written in the dusty world whose purport is to +hand down remarkable events, in which the distinction of scholars, +girls, old men and women, and fools is essential, and in which are +furthermore introduced the lyrics of the Southern and Northern Palaces. +These fairy songs consist either of elegaic effusions on some person or +impressions of some occurrence or other, and are impromptu songs readily +set to the music of wind or string instruments, so that any one who is +not cognisant of their gist cannot appreciate the beauties contained in +them. So you are not likely, I fear, to understand this lyric with any +clearness; and unless you first peruse the text and then listen to the +ballad, you will, instead of pleasure, feel as if you were chewing wax +(devoid of any zest)." + +After these remarks, she turned her head round, and directed a young +maid-servant to fetch the text of the Dream of the Red Chamber, which +she handed to Pao-yue, who took it over; and as he followed the words +with his eyes, with his ears he listened to the strains of this song: + +Preface of the Bream of the Red Chamber.--When the Heavens were opened +and earth was laid out chaos prevailed! What was the germ of love? It +arises entirely from the strength of licentious love. + +What day, by the will of heaven, I felt wounded at heart, and what time +I was at leisure, I made an attempt to disburden my sad heart; and with +this object in view I indited this Dream of the Bed Chamber, on the +subject of a disconsolate gold trinket and an unfortunate piece of jade. + +Waste of a whole Lifetime. All maintain that the match between gold and +jade will be happy. All I can think of is the solemn oath contracted in +days gone by by the plant and stone! Vain will I gaze upon the snow, +Hsueeh, [Pao-ch'ai], pure as crystal and lustrous like a gem of the +eminent priest living among the hills! Never will I forget the noiseless +Fairy Grove, Lin [Tai-yue], beyond the confines of the mortal world! +Alas! now only have I come to believe that human happiness is +incomplete; and that a couple may be bound by the ties of wedlock for +life, but that after all their hearts are not easy to lull into +contentment. + +Vain knitting of the brows. The one is a spirit flower of Fairyland; the +other is a beautiful jade without a blemish. Do you maintain that their +union will not be remarkable? Why how then is it that he has come to +meet her again in this existence? If the union will you say, be strange, +how is it then that their love affair will be but empty words? The one +in her loneliness will give way to useless sighs. The other in vain will +yearn and crave. The one will be like the reflection of the moon in +water; the other like a flower reflected in a mirror. Consider, how many +drops of tears can there be in the eyes? and how could they continue to +drop from autumn to winter and from spring to flow till summer time? + +But to come to Pao-yue. After he had heard these ballads, so diffuse and +vague, he failed to see any point of beauty in them; but the plaintive +melody of the sound was nevertheless sufficient to drive away his spirit +and exhilarate his soul. Hence it was that he did not make any inquiries +about the arguments, and that he did not ask about the matter treated, +but simply making these ballads the means for the time being of +dispelling melancholy, he therefore went on with the perusal of what +came below. + +Despicable Spirit of Death! You will be rejoicing that glory is at its +height when hateful death will come once again, and with eyes wide with +horror, you will discard all things, and dimly and softly the fragrant +spirit will waste and dissolve! You will yearn for native home, but +distant will be the way, and lofty the mountains. Hence it is that you +will betake yourself in search of father and mother, while they lie +under the influence of a dream, and hold discourse with them. "Your +child," you will say, "has already trodden the path of death! Oh my +parents, it behoves you to speedily retrace your steps and make good +your escape!" + +Separated from Relatives. You will speed on a journey of three thousand +li at the mercy of wind and rain, and tear yourself from all your family +ties and your native home! Your fears will be lest anguish should do any +harm to your parents in their failing years! "Father and mother," you +will bid them, "do not think with any anxiety of your child. From ages +past poverty as well as success have both had a fixed destiny; and is it +likely that separation and reunion are not subject to predestination? +Though we may now be far apart in two different places, we must each of +us try and preserve good cheer. Your abject child has, it is true, gone +from home, but abstain from distressing yourselves on her account!" + +Sorrow in the midst of Joy. While wrapped as yet in swaddling clothes, +father and mother, both alas! will depart, and dwell though you will in +that mass of gauze, who is there who will know how to spoil you with any +fond attention? Born you will be fortunately with ample moral courage, +and high-minded and boundless resources, for your parents will not have, +in the least, their child's secret feelings at heart! You will be like a +moon appearing to view when the rain holds up, shedding its rays upon +the Jade Hall; or a gentle breeze (wafting its breath upon it). Wedded +to a husband, fairy like fair and accomplished, you will enjoy a +happiness enduring as the earth and perennial as the Heavens! and you +will be the means of snapping asunder the bitter fate of your youth! +But, after all, the clouds will scatter in Kao T'ang and the waters of +the Hsiang river will get parched! This is the inevitable destiny of +dissolution and continuance which prevails in the mortal world, and what +need is there to indulge in useless grief? + +Intolerable to the world. Your figure will be as winsome as an olea +fragrans; your talents as ample as those of a Fairy! You will by nature +be so haughty that of the whole human race few will be like you! You +will look upon a meat diet as one of dirt, and treat splendour as coarse +and loathsome! And yet you will not be aware that your high notions will +bring upon you the excessive hatred of man! You will be very eager in +your desire after chastity, but the human race will despise you! Alas, +you will wax old in that antique temple hall under a faint light, where +you will waste ungrateful for beauty, looks and freshness! But after all +you will still be worldly, corrupt and unmindful of your vows; just like +a spotless white jade you will be whose fate is to fall into the mire! +And what need will there be for the grandson of a prince or the son of a +duke to deplore that his will not be the good fortune (of winning your +affections)? + +The Voluptuary. You will resemble a wolf in the mountains! a savage +beast devoid of all human feeling! Regardless in every way of the +obligations of days gone by, your sole pleasure will be in the +indulgence of haughtiness, extravagance, licentiousness and dissolute +habits! You will be inordinate in your conjugal affections, and look +down upon the beautiful charms of the child of a marquis, as if they +were cat-tail rush or willow; trampling upon the honourable daughter of +a ducal mansion, as if she were one of the common herd. Pitiful to say, +the fragrant spirit and beauteous ghost will in a year softly and gently +pass away! + +The Perception that all things are transient like flowers. You will look +lightly upon the three springs and regard the blush of the peach and the +green of the willow as of no avail. You will beat out the fire of +splendour, and treat solitary retirement as genial! What is it that you +say about the delicate peaches in the heavens (marriage) being +excellent, and the petals of the almond in the clouds being plentiful +(children)? Let him who has after all seen one of them, (really a mortal +being) go safely through the autumn, (wade safely through old age), +behold the people in the white Poplar village groan and sigh; and the +spirits under the green maple whine and moan! Still more wide in expanse +than even the heavens is the dead vegetation which covers the graves! +The moral is this, that the burden of man is poverty one day and +affluence another; that bloom in spring, and decay in autumn, constitute +the doom of vegetable life! In the same way, this calamity of birth and +the visitation of death, who is able to escape? But I have heard it said +that there grows in the western quarter a tree called the P'o So +(Patient Bearing) which bears the fruit of Immortal life! + +The bane of Intelligence. Yours will be the power to estimate, in a +thorough manner, the real motives of all things, as yours will be +intelligence of an excessive degree; but instead (of reaping any +benefit) you will cast the die of your own existence! The heart of your +previous life is already reduced to atoms, and when you shall have died, +your nature will have been intelligent to no purpose! Your home will be +in easy circumstances; your family will enjoy comforts; but your +connexions will, at length, fall a prey to death, and the inmates of +your family scatter, each one of you speeding in a different direction, +making room for others! In vain, you will have harassed your mind with +cankering thoughts for half a lifetime; for it will be just as if you +had gone through the confused mazes of a dream on the third watch! +Sudden a crash (will be heard) like the fall of a spacious palace, and a +dusky gloominess (will supervene) such as is caused by a lamp about to +spend itself! Alas! a spell of happiness will be suddenly (dispelled by) +adversity! Woe is man in the world! for his ultimate doom is difficult +to determine! + +Leave behind a residue of happiness! Hand down an excess of happiness; +hand down an excess of happiness! Unexpectedly you will come across a +benefactor! Fortunate enough your mother, your own mother, will have +laid by a store of virtue and secret meritorious actions! My advice to +you, mankind, is to relieve the destitute and succour the distressed! Do +not resemble those who will harp after lucre and show themselves +unmindful of the ties of relationship: that wolflike maternal uncle of +yours and that impostor of a brother! True it is that addition and +subtraction, increase and decrease, (reward and punishment,) rest in the +hands of Heaven above! + +Splendour at last. Loving affection in a mirror will be still more +ephemeral than fame in a dream. That fine splendour will fleet how soon! +Make no further allusion to embroidered curtain, to bridal coverlet; for +though you may come to wear on your head a pearl-laden coronet, and, on +your person, a jacket ornamented with phoenixes, yours will not +nevertheless be the means to atone for the short life (of your husband)! +Though the saying is that mankind should not have, in their old age, the +burden of poverty to bear, yet it is also essential that a store of +benevolent deeds should be laid up for the benefit of sons and +grandsons! (Your son) may come to be dignified in appearance and wear on +his head the official tassel, and on his chest may be suspended the gold +seal resplendent in lustre; he may be imposing in his majesty, and he +may rise high in status and emoluments, but the dark and dreary way +which leads to death is short! Are the generals and ministers who have +been from ages of old still in the flesh, forsooth? They exist only in a +futile name handed down to posterity to reverence! + +Death ensues when things propitious reign! Upon the ornamented beam will +settle at the close of spring the fragrant dust! Your reckless +indulgence of licentious love and your naturally moonlike face will soon +be the source of the ruin of a family. The decadence of the family +estate will emanate entirely from Ching; while the wane of the family +affairs will be entirely attributable to the fault of Ning! Licentious +love will be the main reason of the long-standing grudge. + +The flying birds each perch upon the trees! The family estates of those +in official positions will fade! The gold and silver of the rich and +honoured will be scattered! those who will have conferred benefit will, +even in death, find the means of escape! those devoid of human feelings +will reap manifest retribution! Those indebted for a life will make, in +due time, payment with their lives; those indebted for tears have +already (gone) to exhaust their tears! Mutual injuries will be revenged +in no light manner! Separation and reunion will both alike be determined +by predestination! You wish to know why your life will be short; look +into your previous existence! Verily, riches and honours, which will +come with old age, will likewise be a question of chance! Those who will +hold the world in light esteem will retire within the gate of +abstraction; while those who will be allured by enticement will have +forfeited their lives (The Chia family will fulfil its destiny) as +surely as birds take to the trees after they have exhausted all they had +to eat, and which as they drop down will pile up a hoary, vast and lofty +heap of dust, (leaving) indeed a void behind! + +When the maidens had finished the ballads, they went on to sing the +"Supplementary Record;" but the Monitory Vision Fairy, perceiving the +total absence of any interest in Pao-yue, heaved a sigh. "You silly +brat!" she exclaimed. "What! haven't you, even now, attained +perception!" + +"There's no need for you to go on singing," speedily observed Pao-yue, as +he interrupted the singing maidens; and feeling drowsy and dull, he +pleaded being under the effects of wine, and begged to be allowed to lie +down. + +The Fairy then gave orders to clear away the remains of the feast, and +escorted Pao-yue to a suite of female apartments, where the splendour of +such objects as were laid out was a thing which he had not hitherto +seen. But what evoked in him wonder still more intense, was the sight, +at an early period, of a girl seated in the room, who, in the freshness +of her beauty and winsomeness of her charms, bore some resemblance to +Pao-ch'ai, while, in elegance and comeliness, on the other hand, to +Tai-yu. + +While he was plunged in a state of perplexity, the Fairy suddenly +remarked: "All those female apartments and ladies' chambers in so many +wealthy and honourable families in the world are, without exception, +polluted by voluptuous opulent puppets and by all that bevy of +profligate girls. But still more despicable are those from old till now +numberless dissolute roues, one and all of whom maintain that libidinous +affections do not constitute lewdness; and who try, further, to prove +that licentious love is not tantamount to lewdness. But all these +arguments are mere apologies for their shortcomings, and a screen for +their pollutions; for if libidinous affection be lewdness, still more +does the perception of licentious love constitute lewdness. Hence it is +that the indulgence of sensuality and the gratification of licentious +affection originate entirely from a relish of lust, as well as from a +hankering after licentious love. Lo you, who are the object of my love, +are the most lewd being under the heavens from remote ages to the +present time!" + +Pao-yue was quite dumbstruck by what he heard, and hastily smiling, he +said by way of reply: "My Fairy labours under a misapprehension. Simply +because of my reluctance to read my books my parents have, on repeated +occasions, extended to me injunction and reprimand, and would I have the +courage to go so far as to rashly plunge in lewd habits? Besides, I am +still young in years, and have no notion what is implied by lewdness!" + +"Not so!" exclaimed the Fairy; "lewdness, although one thing in +principle is, as far as meaning goes, subject to different +constructions; as is exemplified by those in the world whose heart is +set upon lewdness. Some delight solely in faces and figures; others find +insatiable pleasure in singing and dancing; some in dalliance and +raillery; others in the incessant indulgence of their lusts; and these +regret that all the beautiful maidens under the heavens cannot minister +to their short-lived pleasure. These several kinds of persons are foul +objects steeped skin and all in lewdness. The lustful love, for +instance, which has sprung to life and taken root in your natural +affections, I and such as myself extend to it the character of an +abstract lewdness; but abstract lewdness can be grasped by the mind, but +cannot be transmitted by the mouth; can be fathomed by the spirit, but +cannot be divulged in words. As you now are imbued with this desire only +in the abstract, you are certainly well fit to be a trustworthy friend +in (Fairyland) inner apartments, but, on the path of the mortal world, +you will inevitably be misconstrued and defamed; every mouth will +ridicule you; every eye will look down upon you with contempt. After +meeting recently your worthy ancestors, the two Dukes of Ning and Jung, +who opened their hearts and made their wishes known to me with such +fervour, (but I will not have you solely on account of the splendour of +our inner apartments look down despisingly upon the path of the world), +I consequently led you along, my son, and inebriated you with luscious +wines, steeped you in spiritual tea, and admonished you with excellent +songs, bringing also here a young sister of mine, whose infant name is +Chien Mei, and her style K'o Ching, to be given to you as your wedded +wife. To-night, the time will be propitious and suitable for the +immediate consummation of the union, with the express object of letting +you have a certain insight into the fact that if the condition of the +abode of spirits within the confines of Fairyland be still so +(imperfect), how much the more so should be the nature of the affections +which prevail in the dusty world; with the intent that from this time +forth you should positively break loose from bondage, perceive and amend +your former disposition, devote your attention to the works of Confucius +and Mencius, and set your steady purpose upon the principles of +morality." + +Having ended these remarks, she initiated him into the mysteries of +licentious love, and, pushing Pao-yue into the room, she closed the door, +and took her departure all alone. Pao-yue in a dazed state complied with +the admonitions given him by the Fairy, and the natural result was, of +course, a violent flirtation, the circumstances of which it would be +impossible to recount. + +When the next day came, he was by that time so attached to her by ties +of tender love and their conversation was so gentle and full of charm +that he could not brook to part from K'o Ching. Hand-in-hand, the two of +them therefore, went out for a stroll, when they unexpectedly reached a +place, where nothing else met their gaze than thorns and brambles, which +covered the ground, and a wolf and a tiger walking side by side. Before +them stretched the course of a black stream, which obstructed their +progress; and over this stream there was, what is more, no bridge to +enable one to cross it. + +While they were exercising their minds with perplexity, they suddenly +espied the Fairy coming from the back in pursuit of them. "Desist at +once," she exclaimed, "from making any advance into the stream; it is +urgent that you should, with all speed, turn your faces round!" + +Pao-yue lost no time in standing still. "What is this place?" he +inquired. + +"This is the Ford of Enticement," explained the Fairy. "Its depth is ten +thousand chang; its breadth is a thousand li; in its stream there are no +boats or paddles by means of which to effect a passage. There is simply +a raft, of which Mu Chu-shih directs the rudder, and which Hui Shih chen +punts with the poles. They receive no compensation in the shape of gold +or silver, but when they come across any one whose destiny it is to +cross, they ferry him over. You now have by accident strolled as far as +here, and had you fallen into the stream you would have rendered quite +useless the advice and admonition which I previously gave you." + +These words were scarcely concluded, when suddenly was heard from the +midst of the Ford of Enticement, a sound like unto a peal of thunder, +whereupon a whole crowd of gobblins and sea-urchins laid hands upon +Pao-yue and dragged him down. + +This so filled Pao-yue with consternation that he fell into a +perspiration as profuse as rain, and he simultaneously broke forth and +shouted, "Rescue me, K'o Ching!" + +These cries so terrified Hsi Jen and the other waiting-maids, that they +rushed forward, and taking Pao-yue in their arms, "Don't be afraid, +Pao-yue," they said, "we are here." + +But we must observe that Mrs. Ch'in was just inside the apartment in the +act of recommending the young waiting-maids to be mindful that the cats +and dogs did not start a fight, when she unawares heard Pao-yue, in his +dream, call her by her infant name. In a melancholy mood she therefore +communed within herself, "As far as my infant name goes, there is, in +this establishment, no one who has any idea what it is, and how is it +that he has come to know it, and that he utters it in his dream?" And +she was at this period unable to fathom the reason. But, reader, listen +to the explanations given in the chapter which follows. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + Chia Pao-yue reaps his first experience in licentious love. + Old Goody Liu pays a visit to the Jung Kuo Mansion. + + +Mrs. Ch'in, to resume our narrative, upon hearing Pao-yue call her in his +dream by her infant name, was at heart very exercised, but she did not +however feel at liberty to make any minute inquiry. + +Pao-yue was, at this time, in such a dazed state, as if he had lost +something, and the servants promptly gave him a decoction of lungngan. +After he had taken a few sips, he forthwith rose and tidied his clothes. + +Hsi Jen put out her hand to fasten the band of his garment, and as soon +as she did so, and it came in contact with his person, it felt so icy +cold to the touch, covered as it was all over with perspiration, that +she speedily withdrew her hand in utter surprise. + +"What's the matter with you?" she exclaimed. + +A blush suffused Pao-yue's face, and he took Hsi Jen's hand in a tight +grip. Hsi Jen was a girl with all her wits about her; she was besides a +couple of years older than Pao-yue and had recently come to know +something of the world, so that at the sight of his state, she to a +great extent readily accounted for the reason in her heart. From modest +shame, she unconsciously became purple in the face, and not venturing to +ask another question she continued adjusting his clothes. This task +accomplished, she followed him over to old lady Chia's apartments; and +after a hurry-scurry meal, they came back to this side, and Hsi Jen +availed herself of the absence of the nurses and waiting-maids to hand +Pao-yue another garment to change. + +"Please, dear Hsi Jen, don't tell any one," entreated Pao-yue, with +concealed shame. + +"What did you dream of?" inquired Hsi Jen, smiling, as she tried to +stifle her blushes, "and whence comes all this perspiration?" + +"It's a long story," said Pao-yue, "which only a few words will not +suffice to explain." + +He accordingly recounted minutely, for her benefit, the subject of his +dream. When he came to where the Fairy had explained to him the +mysteries of love, Hsi Jen was overpowered with modesty and covered her +face with her hands; and as she bent down, she gave way to a fit of +laughter. Pao-yue had always been fond of Hsi Jen, on account of her +gentleness, pretty looks and graceful and elegant manner, and he +forthwith expounded to her all the mysteries he had been taught by the +Fairy. + +Hsi Jen was, of course, well aware that dowager lady Chia had given her +over to Pao-yue, so that her present behaviour was likewise no +transgression. And subsequently she secretly attempted with Pao-yue a +violent flirtation, and lucky enough no one broke in upon them during +their tete-a-tete. From this date, Pao-yue treated Hsi Jen with special +regard, far more than he showed to the other girls, while Hsi Jen +herself was still more demonstrative in her attentions to Pao-yue. But +for a time we will make no further remark about them. + +As regards the household of the Jung mansion, the inmates may, on adding +up the total number, not have been found many; yet, counting the high as +well as the low, there were three hundred persons and more. Their +affairs may not have been very numerous, still there were, every day, +ten and twenty matters to settle; in fact, the household resembled, in +every way, ravelled hemp, devoid even of a clue-end, which could be used +as an introduction. + +Just as we were considering what matter and what person it would be best +to begin writing of, by a lucky coincidence suddenly from a distance of +a thousand li, a person small and insignificant as a grain of mustard +seed happened, on account of her distant relationship with the Jung +family, to come on this very day to the Jung mansion on a visit. We +shall therefore readily commence by speaking of this family, as it after +all affords an excellent clue for a beginning. + +The surname of this mean and humble family was in point of fact Wang. +They were natives of this district. Their ancestor had filled a minor +office in the capital, and had, in years gone by, been acquainted with +lady Feng's grandfather, that is madame Wang's father. Being covetous of +the influence and affluence of the Wang family, he consequently joined +ancestors with them, and was recognised by them as a nephew. + +At that time, there were only madame Wang's eldest brother, that is lady +Feng's father, and madame Wang herself, who knew anything of these +distant relations, from the fact of having followed their parents to the +capital. The rest of the family had one and all no idea about them. + +This ancestor had, at this date, been dead long ago, leaving only one +son called Wang Ch'eng. As the family estate was in a state of ruin, he +once more moved outside the city walls and settled down in his native +village. Wang Ch'eng also died soon after his father, leaving a son, +known in his infancy as Kou Erh, who married a Miss Liu, by whom he had +a son called by the infant name of Pan Erh, as well as a daughter, +Ch'ing Erh. His family consisted of four, and he earned a living from +farming. + +As Kou Erh was always busy with something or other during the day and +his wife, dame Liu, on the other hand, drew the water, pounded the rice +and attended to all the other domestic concerns, the brother and sister, +Ch'ing Erh and Pan Erh, the two of them, had no one to look after them. +(Hence it was that) Kou Erh brought over his mother-in-law, old goody +Liu, to live with them. + +This goody Liu was an old widow, with a good deal of experience. She had +besides no son round her knees, so that she was dependent for her +maintenance on a couple of acres of poor land, with the result that when +her son-in-law received her in his home, she naturally was ever willing +to exert heart and mind to help her daughter and her son-in-law to earn +their living. + +This year, the autumn had come to an end, winter had commenced, and the +weather had begun to be quite cold. No provision had been made in the +household for the winter months, and Kou Erh was, inevitably, +exceedingly exercised in his heart. Having had several cups of wine to +dispel his distress, he sat at home and tried to seize upon every trifle +to give vent to his displeasure. His wife had not the courage to force +herself in his way, and hence goody Liu it was who encouraged him, as +she could not bear to see the state of the domestic affairs. + +"Don't pull me up for talking too much," she said; "but who of us +country people isn't honest and open-hearted? As the size of the bowl we +hold, so is the quantity of the rice we eat. In your young days, you +were dependent on the support of your old father, so that eating and +drinking became quite a habit with you; that's how, at the present time, +your resources are quite uncertain; when you had money, you looked +ahead, and didn't mind behind; and now that you have no money, you +blindly fly into huffs. A fine fellow and a capital hero you have made! +Living though we now be away from the capital, we are after all at the +feet of the Emperor; this city of Ch'ang Ngan is strewn all over with +money, but the pity is that there's no one able to go and fetch it away; +and it's no use your staying at home and kicking your feet about." + +"All you old lady know," rejoined Kou Erh, after he had heard what she +had to say, "is to sit on the couch and talk trash! Is it likely you +would have me go and play the robber?" + +"Who tells you to become a robber?" asked goody Liu. "But it would be +well, after all, that we should put our heads together and devise some +means; for otherwise, is the money, pray, able of itself to run into our +house?" + +"Had there been a way," observed Kou Erh, smiling sarcastically, "would +I have waited up to this moment? I have besides no revenue collectors as +relatives, or friends in official positions; and what way could we +devise? 'But even had I any, they wouldn't be likely, I fear, to pay any +heed to such as ourselves!" + +"That, too, doesn't follow," remarked goody Liu; "the planning of +affairs rests with man, but the accomplishment of them rests with +Heaven. After we have laid our plans, we may, who can say, by relying on +the sustenance of the gods, find some favourable occasion. Leave it to +me, I'll try and devise some lucky chance for you people! In years gone +by, you joined ancestors with the Wang family of Chin Ling, and twenty +years back, they treated you with consideration; but of late, you've +been so high and mighty, and not condescended to go and bow to them, +that an estrangement has arisen. I remember how in years gone by, I and +my daughter paid them a visit. The second daughter of the family was +really so pleasant and knew so well how to treat people with kindness, +and without in fact any high airs! She's at present the wife of Mr. +Chia, the second son of the Jung Kuo mansion; and I hear people say that +now that she's advanced in years, she's still more considerate to the +poor, regardful of the old, and very fond of preparing vegetable food +for the bonzes and performing charitable deeds. The head of the Wang +mansion has, it is true, been raised to some office on the frontier, but +I hope that this lady Secunda will anyhow notice us. How is it then that +you don't find your way as far as there; for she may possibly remember +old times, and some good may, no one can say, come of it? I only wish +that she would display some of her kind-heartedness, and pluck one hair +from her person which would be, yea thicker than our waist." + +"What you suggest, mother, is quite correct," interposed Mrs. Liu, Kou +Erh's wife, who stood by and took up the conversation, "but with such +mouth and phiz as yours and mine, how could we present ourselves before +her door? Why I fear that the man at her gate won't also like to go and +announce us! and we'd better not go and have our mouths slapped in +public!" + +Kou Erh, who would have thought it, prized highly both affluence and +fame, so that when he heard these remarks, he forthwith began to feel at +heart a little more at ease. When he furthermore heard what his wife had +to say, he at once caught up the word as he smiled. + +"Old mother," he rejoined; "since that be your idea, and what's more, +you have in days gone by seen this lady on one occasion, why shouldn't +you, old lady, start to-morrow on a visit to her and first ascertain how +the wind blows!" + +"Ai Ya!" exclaimed old Goody, "It may very well be said that the +marquis' door is like the wide ocean! what sort of thing am I? why the +servants of that family wouldn't even recognise me! even were I to go, +it would be on a wild goose chase." + +"No matter about that," observed Kou Erh; "I'll tell you a good way; you +just take along with you, your grandson, little Pan Erh, and go first +and call upon Chou Jui, who is attached to that household; and when once +you've seen him, there will be some little chance. This Chou Jui, at one +time, was connected with my father in some affair or other, and we were +on excellent terms with him." + +"That I too know," replied goody Liu, "but the thing is that you've had +no dealings with him for so long, that who knows how he's disposed +towards us now? this would be hard to say. Besides, you're a man, and +with a mouth and phiz like that of yours, you couldn't, on any account, +go on this errand. My daughter is a young woman, and she too couldn't +very well go and expose herself to public gaze. But by my sacrificing +this old face of mine, and by going and knocking it (against the wall) +there may, after all, be some benefit and all of us might reap profit." + +That very same evening, they laid their plans, and the next morning +before the break of day, old goody Liu speedily got up, and having +performed her toilette, she gave a few useful hints to Pan Erh; who, +being a child of five or six years of age, was, when he heard that he +was to be taken into the city, at once so delighted that there was +nothing that he would not agree to. + +Without further delay, goody Liu led off Pan Erh, and entered the city, +and reaching the Ning Jung street, she came to the main entrance of the +Jung mansion, where, next to the marble lions, were to be seen a crowd +of chairs and horses. Goody Liu could not however muster the courage to +go by, but having shaken her clothes, and said a few more seasonable +words to Pan Erh, she subsequently squatted in front of the side gate, +whence she could see a number of servants, swelling out their chests, +pushing out their stomachs, gesticulating with their hands and kicking +their feet about, while they were seated at the main entrance chattering +about one thing and another. + +Goody Liu felt constrained to edge herself forward. "Gentlemen," she +ventured, "may happiness betide you!" + +The whole company of servants scrutinised her for a time. "Where do you +come from?" they at length inquired. + +"I've come to look up Mr. Chou, an attendant of my lady's," remarked +goody Liu, as she forced a smile; "which of you, gentlemen, shall I +trouble to do me the favour of asking him to come out?" + +The servants, after hearing what she had to say, paid, the whole number +of them, no heed to her; and it was after the lapse of a considerable +time that they suggested: "Go and wait at a distance, at the foot of +that wall; and in a short while, the visitors, who are in their house, +will be coming out." + +Among the party of attendants was an old man, who interposed, + +"Don't baffle her object," he expostulated; "why make a fool of her?" +and turning to goody Liu: "This Mr. Chou," he said, "is gone south: his +house is at the back row; his wife is anyhow at home; so go round this +way, until you reach the door, at the back street, where, if you will +ask about her, you will be on the right track." + +Goody Liu, having expressed her thanks, forthwith went, leading Pan Erh +by the hand, round to the back door, where she saw several pedlars +resting their burdens. There were also those who sold things to eat, and +those who sold playthings and toys; and besides these, twenty or thirty +boys bawled and shouted, making quite a noise. + +Goody Liu readily caught hold of one of them. "I'd like to ask you just +a word, my young friend," she observed; "there's a Mrs. Chou here; is +she at home?" + +"Which Mrs. Chou?" inquired the boy; "we here have three Mrs. Chous; and +there are also two young married ladies of the name of Chou. What are +the duties of the one you want, I wonder ?" + +"She's a waiting-woman of my lady," replied goody Liu. + +"It's easy to get at her," added the boy; "just come along with me." + +Leading the way for goody Liu into the backyard, they reached the wall +of a court, when he pointed and said, "This is her house.--Mother Chou!" +he went on to shout with alacrity; "there's an old lady who wants to see +you." + +Chou Jui's wife was at home, and with all haste she came out to greet +her visitor. "Who is it?" she asked. + +Goody Liu advanced up to her. "How are you," she inquired, "Mrs. Chou?" + +Mrs. Chou looked at her for some time before she at length smiled and +replied, "Old goody Liu, are you well? How many years is it since we've +seen each other; tell me, for I forget just now; but please come in and +sit." + +"You're a lady of rank," answered goody Liu smiling, as she walked +along, "and do forget many things. How could you remember such as +ourselves?" + +With these words still in her mouth, they had entered the house, +whereupon Mrs. Chou ordered a hired waiting-maid to pour the tea. While +they were having their tea she remarked, "How Pan Erh has managed to +grow!" and then went on to make inquiries on the subject of various +matters, which had occurred after their separation. + +"To-day," she also asked of goody Liu, "were you simply passing by? or +did you come with any express object?" + +"I've come, the fact is, with an object!" promptly replied goody Liu; +"(first of all) to see you, my dear sister-in-law; and, in the second +place also, to inquire after my lady's health. If you could introduce me +to see her for a while, it would be better; but if you can't, I must +readily borrow your good offices, my sister-in-law, to convey my +message." + +Mr. Chou Jui's wife, after listening to these words, at once became to a +great extent aware of the object of her visit. Her husband had, however, +in years gone by in his attempt to purchase some land, obtained +considerably the support of Kou Erh, so that when she, on this occasion, +saw goody Liu in such a dilemma, she could not make up her mind to +refuse her wish. Being in the second place keen upon making a display of +her own respectability, she therefore said smilingly: + +"Old goody Liu, pray compose your mind! You've come from far off with a +pure heart and honest purpose, and how can I ever not show you the way +how to see this living Buddha? Properly speaking, when people come and +guests arrive, and verbal messages have to be given, these matters are +not any of my business, as we all here have each one kind of duties to +carry out. My husband has the special charge of the rents of land coming +in, during the two seasons of spring and autumn, and when at leisure, he +takes the young gentlemen out of doors, and then his business is done. +As for myself, I have to accompany my lady and young married ladies on +anything connected with out-of-doors; but as you are a relative of my +lady and have besides treated me as a high person and come to me for +help, I'll, after all, break this custom and deliver your message. +There's only one thing, however, and which you, old lady, don't know. We +here are not what we were five years before. My lady now doesn't much +worry herself about anything; and it's entirely lady Secunda who looks +after the menage. But who do you presume is this lady Secunda? She's the +niece of my lady, and the daughter of my master, the eldest maternal +uncle of by-gone days. Her infant name was Feng Ko." + +"Is it really she?" inquired promptly goody Liu, after this explanation. +"Isn't it strange? what I said about her years back has come out quite +correct; but from all you say, shall I to-day be able to see her?" + +"That goes without saying," replied Chou Jui's wife; "when any visitors +come now-a-days, it's always lady Feng who does the honours and +entertains them, and it's better to-day that you should see her for a +while, for then you will not have walked all this way to no purpose." + +"O mi to fu!" exclaimed old goody Liu; "I leave it entirely to your +convenience, sister-in-law." + +"What's that you're saying?" observed Chou Jui's wife. "The proverb +says: 'Our convenience is the convenience of others.' All I have to do +is to just utter one word, and what trouble will that be to me." + +Saying this, she bade the young waiting maid go to the side pavilion, +and quietly ascertain whether, in her old ladyship's apartment, table +had been laid. + +The young waiting-maid went on this errand, and during this while, the +two of them continued a conversation on certain irrelevant matters. + +"This lady Feng," observed goody Liu, "can this year be no older than +twenty, and yet so talented as to manage such a household as this! the +like of her is not easy to find!" + +"Hai! my dear old goody," said Chou Jui's wife, after listening to her, +"it's not easy to explain; but this lady Feng, though young in years, is +nevertheless, in the management of affairs, superior to any man. She has +now excelled the others and developed the very features of a beautiful +young woman. To say the least, she has ten thousand eyes in her heart, +and were they willing to wager their mouths, why ten men gifted with +eloquence couldn't even outdo her! But by and bye, when you've seen her, +you'll know all about her! There's only this thing, she can't help being +rather too severe in her treatment of those below her." + +While yet she spake, the young waiting-maid returned. "In her venerable +lady's apartment," she reported, "repast has been spread, and already +finished; lady Secunda is in madame Wang's chamber." + +As soon as Chou Jui's wife heard this news, she speedily got up and +pressed goody Liu to be off at once. "This is," she urged, "just the +hour for her meal, and as she is free we had better first go and wait +for her; for were we to be even one step too late, a crowd of servants +will come with their reports, and it will then be difficult to speak to +her; and after her siesta, she'll have still less time to herself." + +As she passed these remarks, they all descended the couch together. +Goody Liu adjusted their dresses, and, having impressed a few more words +of advice on Pan Erh, they followed Chou Jui's wife through winding +passages to Chia Lien's house. They came in the first instance into the +side pavilion, where Chou Jui's wife placed old goody Liu to wait a +little, while she herself went ahead, past the screen-wall and into the +entrance of the court. + +Hearing that lady Feng had not come out, she went in search of an +elderly waiting-maid of lady Feng, P'ing Erh by name, who enjoyed her +confidence, to whom Chou Jui's wife first recounted from beginning to +end the history of old goody Liu. + +"She has come to-day," she went on to explain, "from a distance to pay +her obeisance. In days gone by, our lady used often to meet her, so +that, on this occasion, she can't but receive her; and this is why I've +brought her in! I'll wait here for lady Feng to come down, and explain +everything to her; and I trust she'll not call me to task for officious +rudeness." + +P'ing Erh, after hearing what she had to say, speedily devised the plan +of asking them to walk in, and to sit there pending (lady Feng's +arrival), when all would be right. + +Chou Jui's wife thereupon went out and led them in. When they ascended +the steps of the main apartment, a young waiting-maid raised a red +woollen portiere, and as soon as they entered the hall, they smelt a +whiff of perfume as it came wafted into their faces: what the scent was +they could not discriminate; but their persons felt as if they were +among the clouds. + +The articles of furniture and ornaments in the whole room were all so +brilliant to the sight, and so vying in splendour that they made the +head to swim and the eyes to blink, and old goody Liu did nothing else +the while than nod her head, smack her lips and invoke Buddha. Forthwith +she was led to the eastern side into the suite of apartments, where was +the bedroom of Chia Lien's eldest daughter. P'ing Erh, who was standing +by the edge of the stove-couch, cast a couple of glances at old goody +Liu, and felt constrained to inquire how she was, and to press her to +have a seat. + +Goody Liu, noticing that P'ing Erh was entirely robed in silks, that she +had gold pins fixed in her hair, and silver ornaments in her coiffure, +and that her countenance resembled a flower or the moon (in beauty), +readily imagined her to be lady Feng, and was about to address her as my +lady; but when she heard Mrs. Chou speak to her as Miss P'ing, and P'ing +Erh promptly address Chou Jui's wife as Mrs. Chou, she eventually became +aware that she could be no more than a waiting-maid of a certain +respectability. + +She at once pressed old goody Liu and Pan Erh to take a seat on the +stove-couch. P'ing Erh and Chou Jui's wife sat face to face, on the +edges of the couch. The waiting-maids brought the tea. After they had +partaken of it, old goody Liu could hear nothing but a "lo tang, lo +tang" noise, resembling very much the sound of a bolting frame winnowing +flour, and she could not resist looking now to the East, and now to the +West. Suddenly in the great Hall, she espied, suspended on a pillar, a +box at the bottom of which hung something like the weight of a balance, +which incessantly wagged to and fro. + +"What can this thing be?" communed goody Liu in her heart, "What can be +its use?" While she was aghast, she unexpectedly heard a sound of "tang" +like the sound of a golden bell or copper cymbal, which gave her quite a +start. In a twinkle of the eyes followed eight or nine consecutive +strokes; and she was bent upon inquiring what it was, when she caught +sight of several waiting-maids enter in a confused crowd. "Our lady has +come down!" they announced. + +P'ing Erh, together with Chou Jui's wife, rose with all haste. "Old +goody Liu," they urged, "do sit down and wait till it's time, when we'll +come and ask you in." + +Saying this, they went out to meet lady Feng. + +Old goody Liu, with suppressed voice and ear intent, waited in perfect +silence. She heard at a distance the voices of some people laughing, +whereupon about ten or twenty women, with rustling clothes and +petticoats, made their entrance, one by one, into the hall, and thence +into the room on the other quarter. She also detected two or three +women, with red-lacquered boxes in their hands, come over on this part +and remain in waiting. + +"Get the repast ready!" she heard some one from the offside say. + +The servants gradually dispersed and went out; and there only remained +in attendance a few of them to bring in the courses. For a long time, +not so much as the caw of a crow could be heard, when she unexpectedly +perceived two servants carry in a couch-table, and lay it on this side +of the divan. Upon this table were placed bowls and plates, in proper +order replete, as usual, with fish and meats; but of these only a few +kinds were slightly touched. + +As soon as Pan Erh perceived (all these delicacies), he set up such a +noise, and would have some meat to eat, but goody Liu administered to +him such a slap, that he had to keep away. + +Suddenly, she saw Mrs. Chou approach, full of smiles, and as she waved +her hand, she called her. Goody Liu understood her meaning, and at once +pulling Pan Erh off the couch, she proceeded to the centre of the Hall; +and after Mrs. Chou had whispered to her again for a while, they came at +length with slow step into the room on this side, where they saw on the +outside of the door, suspended by brass hooks, a deep red flowered soft +portiere. Below the window, on the southern side, was a stove-couch, and +on this couch was spread a crimson carpet. Leaning against the wooden +partition wall, on the east side, stood a chain-embroidered back-cushion +and a reclining pillow. There was also spread a large watered satin +sitting cushion with a gold embroidered centre, and on the side stood +cuspidores made of silver. + +Lady Feng, when at home, usually wore on her head a front-piece of dark +martin a la Chao Chuen, surrounded with tassels of strung pearls. She had +on a robe of peach-red flowered satin, a short pelisse of slate-blue +stiff silk, lined with squirrel, and a jupe of deep red foreign crepe, +lined with ermine. Resplendent with pearl-powder and with cosmetics, she +sat in there, stately and majestic, with a small brass poker in her +hands, with which she was stirring the ashes of the hand-stove. P'ing +Erh stood by the side of the couch, holding a very small lacquered +tea-tray. In this tray was a small tea-cup with a cover. Lady Feng +neither took any tea, nor did she raise her head, but was intent upon +stirring the ashes of the hand-stove. + +"How is it you haven't yet asked her to come in?" she slowly inquired; +and as she spake, she turned herself round and was about to ask for some +tea, when she perceived that Mrs. Chou had already introduced the two +persons and that they were standing in front of her. + +She forthwith pretended to rise, but did not actually get up, and with a +face radiant with smiles, she ascertained about their health, after +which she went in to chide Chou Jui's wife. "Why didn't you tell me they +had come before?" she said. + +Old goody Liu was already by this time prostrated on the ground, and +after making several obeisances, "How are you, my lady?" she inquired. + +"Dear Mrs. Chou," lady Feng immediately observed, "do pull her up, and +don't let her prostrate herself! I'm yet young in years and don't know +her much; what's more, I've no idea what's the degree of the +relationship between us, and I daren't speak directly to her." + +"This is the old lady about whom I spoke a short while back," speedily +explained Mrs. Chou. + +Lady Feng nodded her head assentingly. + +By this time old goody Liu had taken a seat on the edge of the +stove-couch. As for Pan Erh, he had gone further, and taken refuge +behind her back; and though she tried, by every means, to coax him to +come forward and make a bow, he would not, for the life of him, consent. + +"Relatives though we be," remarked lady Feng, as she smiled, "we haven't +seen much of each other, so that our relations have been quite distant. +But those who know how matters stand will assert that you all despise +us, and won't often come to look us up; while those mean people, who +don't know the truth, will imagine that we have no eyes to look at any +one." + +Old goody Liu promptly invoked Buddha. "We are at home in great +straits," she pleaded, "and that's why it wasn't easy for us to manage +to get away and come! Even supposing we had come as far as this, had we +not given your ladyship a slap on the mouth, those gentlemen would also, +in point of fact, have looked down upon us as a mean lot." + +"Why, language such as this," exclaimed lady Feng smilingly, "cannot +help making one's heart full of displeasure! We simply rely upon the +reputation of our grandfather to maintain the status of a penniless +official; that's all! Why, in whose household is there anything +substantial? we are merely the denuded skeleton of what we were in days +of old, and no more! As the proverb has it: The Emperor himself has +three families of poverty-stricken relatives; and how much more such as +you and I?" + +Having passed these remarks, she inquired of Mrs. Chou, "Have you let +madame know, yes or no?" + +"We are now waiting," replied Mrs. Chou, "for my lady's orders." + +"Go and have a look," said lady Feng; "but, should there be any one +there, or should she be busy, then don't make any mention; but wait +until she's free, when you can tell her about it and see what she says." + +Chou Jui's wife, having expressed her compliance, went off on this +errand. During her absence, lady Feng gave orders to some servants to +take a few fruits and hand them to Pan Erh to eat; and she was inquiring +about one thing and another, when there came a large number of married +women, who had the direction of affairs in the household, to make their +several reports. + +P'ing Erh announced their arrival to lady Feng, who said: "I'm now +engaged in entertaining some guests, so let them come back again in the +evening; but should there be anything pressing then bring it in and I'll +settle it at once." + +P'ing Erh left the room, but she returned in a short while. "I've asked +them," she observed, "but as there's nothing of any urgency, I told them +to disperse." Lady Feng nodded her head in token of approval, when she +perceived Chou Jui's wife come back. "Our lady," she reported, as she +addressed lady Feng, "says that she has no leisure to-day, that if you, +lady Secunda, will entertain them, it will come to the same thing; that +she's much obliged for their kind attention in going to the trouble of +coming; that if they have come simply on a stroll, then well and good, +but that if they have aught to say, they should tell you, lady Secunda, +which will be tantamount to their telling her." + +"I've nothing to say," interposed old goody Liu. "I simply come to see +our elder and our younger lady, which is a duty on my part, a relative +as I am." + +"Well, if there's nothing particular that you've got to say, all right," +Mrs. Chou forthwith added, "but if you do have anything, don't hesitate +telling lady Secunda, and it will be just as if you had told our lady." + +As she uttered these words, she winked at goody Liu. Goody Liu +understood what she meant, but before she could give vent to a word, her +face got scarlet, and though she would have liked not to make any +mention of the object of her visit, she felt constrained to suppress her +shame and to speak out. + +"Properly speaking," she observed, "this being the first time I see you, +my lady, I shouldn't mention what I've to say, but as I come here from +far off to seek your assistance, my old friend, I have no help but to +mention it." + +She had barely spoken as much as this, when she heard the youths at the +inner-door cry out: "The young gentleman from the Eastern Mansion has +come." + +Lady Feng promptly interrupted her. "Old goody Liu," she remarked, "you +needn't add anything more." She, at the same time, inquired, "Where's +your master, Mr. Jung?" when became audible the sound of footsteps along +the way, and in walked a young man of seventeen or eighteen. His +appearance was handsome, his person slender and graceful. He had on +light furs, a girdle of value, costly clothes and a beautiful cap. + +At this stage, goody Liu did not know whether it was best to sit down or +to stand up, neither could she find anywhere to hide herself. + +"Pray sit down," urged lady Feng, with a laugh; "this is my nephew!' Old +goody Liu then wriggled herself, now one way, and then another, on to +the edge of the couch, where she took a seat. + +"My father," Chia Jung smilingly ventured, "has sent me to ask a favour +of you, aunt. On some previous occasion, our grand aunt gave you, dear +aunt, a stove-couch glass screen, and as to-morrow father has invited +some guests of high standing, he wishes to borrow it to lay it out for a +little show; after which he purposes sending it back again." + +"You're late by a day," replied lady Feng. "It was only yesterday that I +gave it to some one." + +Chia Jung, upon hearing this, forthwith, with giggles and smiles, made, +near the edge of the couch, a sort of genuflexion. "Aunt," he went on, +"if you don't lend it, father will again say that I don't know how to +speak, and I shall get another sound thrashing. You must have pity upon +your nephew, aunt." + +"I've never seen anything like this," observed lady Feng sneeringly; +"the things belonging to the Wang family are all good, but where have +you put all those things of yours? the only good way is that you +shouldn't see anything of ours, for as soon as you catch sight of +anything, you at once entertain a wish to carry it off." + +"Pray, aunt," entreated Chia Jung with a smile, "do show me some +compassion." + +"Mind your skin!" lady Feng warned him, "if you do chip or spoil it in +the least." + +She then bade P'ing Erh take the keys of the door of the upstairs room +and send for several trustworthy persons to carry it away. + +Chia Jung was so elated that his eyebrows dilated and his eyes smiled. +"I've brought myself," he added, with vehemence, "some men to take it +away; I won't let them recklessly bump it about." + +Saying this, he speedily got up and left the room. + +Lady Feng suddenly bethought herself of something, and turning towards +the window, she called out, "Jung Erh, come back." Several servants who +stood outside caught up her words: "Mr. Jung," they cried, "you're +requested to go back;" whereupon Chia Jung turned round and retraced his +steps; and with hands drooping respectfully against his sides, he stood +ready to listen to his aunt's wishes. + +Lady Feng was however intent upon gently sipping her tea, and after a +good long while of abstraction, she at last smiled: "Never mind," she +remarked; "you can go. But come after you've had your evening meal, and +I'll then tell you about it. Just now there are visitors here; and +besides, I don't feel in the humour." + +Chia Jung thereupon retired with gentle step. + +Old goody Liu, by this time, felt more composed in body and heart. "I've +to-day brought your nephew," she then explained, "not for anything else, +but because his father and mother haven't at home so much as anything to +eat; the weather besides is already cold, so that I had no help but to +take your nephew along and come to you, old friend, for assistance!" + +As she uttered these words, she again pushed Pan Erh forward. "What did +your father at home tell you to say?" she asked of him; "and what did he +send us over here to do? Was it only to give our minds to eating fruit?" + +Lady Feng had long ago understood what she meant to convey, and finding +that she had no idea how to express herself in a decent manner, she +readily interrupted her with a smile. "You needn't mention anything," +she observed, "I'm well aware of how things stand;" and addressing +herself to Mrs. Chou, she inquired, "Has this old lady had breakfast, +yes or no?" + +Old goody Liu hurried to explain. "As soon as it was daylight," she +proceeded, "we started with all speed on our way here, and had we even +so much as time to have any breakfast?" + +Lady Feng promptly gave orders to send for something to eat. In a short +while Chou Jui's wife had called for a table of viands for the guests, +which was laid in the room on the eastern side, and then came to take +goody Liu and Pan Erh over to have their repast. + +"My dear Mrs. Chou," enjoined lady Feng, "give them all they want, as I +can't attend to them myself;" which said, they hastily passed over into +the room on the eastern side. + +Lady Feng having again called Mrs. Chou, asked her: "When you first +informed madame about them, what did she say?" "Our Lady observed," +replied Chou Jui's wife, "that they don't really belong to the same +family; that, in former years, their grandfather was an official at the +same place as our old master; that hence it came that they joined +ancestors; that these few years there hasn't been much intercourse +(between their family and ours); that some years back, whenever they +came on a visit, they were never permitted to go empty-handed, and that +as their coming on this occasion to see us is also a kind attention on +their part, they shouldn't be slighted. If they've anything to say," +(our lady continued), "tell lady Secunda to do the necessary, and that +will be right." + +"Isn't it strange!" exclaimed lady Feng, as soon as she had heard the +message; "since we are all one family, how is it I'm not familiar even +with so much as their shadow?" + +While she was uttering these words, old goody Liu had had her repast and +come over, dragging Pan Erh; and, licking her lips and smacking her +mouth, she expressed her thanks. + +Lady Feng smiled. "Do pray sit down," she said, "and listen to what I'm +going to tell you. What you, old lady, meant a little while back to +convey, I'm already as much as yourself well acquainted with! Relatives, +as we are, we shouldn't in fact have waited until you came to the +threshold of our doors, but ought, as is but right, to have attended to +your needs. But the thing is that, of late, the household affairs are +exceedingly numerous, and our lady, advanced in years as she is, +couldn't at a moment, it may possibly be, bethink herself of you all! +What's more, when I took over charge of the management of the menage, I +myself didn't know of all these family connections! Besides, though to +look at us from outside everything has a grand and splendid aspect, +people aren't aware that large establishments have such great hardships, +which, were we to recount to others, they would hardly like to credit as +true. But since you've now come from a great distance, and this is the +first occasion that you open your mouth to address me, how can I very +well allow you to return to your home with empty hands! By a lucky +coincidence our lady gave, yesterday, to the waiting-maids, twenty taels +to make clothes with, a sum which they haven't as yet touched, and if +you don't despise it as too little, you may take it home as a first +instalment, and employ it for your wants." + +When old goody Liu heard the mention made by lady Feng of their +hardships, she imagined that there was no hope; but upon hearing her +again speak of giving her twenty taels, she was exceedingly delighted, +so much so that her eyebrows dilated and her eyes gleamed with smiles. + +"We too know," she smilingly remarked, "all about difficulties! but the +proverb says, 'A camel dying of leanness is even bigger by much than a +horse!' No matter what those distresses may be, were you yet to pluck +one single hair from your body, my old friend, it would be stouter than +our own waist." + +Chou Jui's wife stood by, and on hearing her make these coarse +utterances, she did all she could to give her a hint by winking, and +make her desist. Lady Feng laughed and paid no heed; but calling P'ing +Erh, she bade her fetch the parcel of money, which had been given to +them the previous day, and to also bring a string of cash; and when +these had been placed before goody Liu's eyes: "This is," said lady +Feng, "silver to the amount of twenty taels, which was for the time +given to these young girls to make winter clothes with; but some other +day, when you've nothing to do, come again on a stroll, in evidence of +the good feeling which should exist between relatives. It's besides +already late, and I don't wish to detain you longer and all for no +purpose; but, on your return home, present my compliments to all those +of yours to whom I should send them." + +As she spake, she stood up. Old goody Liu gave utterance to a thousand +and ten thousand expressions of gratitude, and taking the silver and +cash, she followed Chou Jui's wife on her way to the out-houses. "Well, +mother dear," inquired Mrs. Chou, "what did you think of my lady that +you couldn't speak; and that whenever you opened your mouth it was all +'your nephew.' I'll make just one remark, and I don't mind if you do get +angry. Had he even been your kindred nephew, you should in fact have +been somewhat milder in your language; for that gentleman, Mr. Jung, is +her kith and kin nephew, and whence has appeared such another nephew of +hers (as Pan Erh)?" + +Old goody Liu smiled. "My dear sister-in-law," she replied, "as I gazed +upon her, were my heart and eyes, pray, full of admiration or not? and +how then could I speak as I should?" + +As they were chatting, they reached Chou Jui's house. They had been +sitting for a while, when old goody Liu produced a piece of silver, +which she was purposing to leave behind, to be given to the young +servants in Chou Jui's house to purchase fruit to eat; but how could +Mrs. Chou satiate her eye with such a small piece of silver? She was +determined in her refusal to accept it, so that old goody Liu, after +assuring her of her boundless gratitude, took her departure out of the +back gate she had come in from. + +Reader, you do not know what happened after old goody Liu left, but +listen to the explanation which will be given in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + Presentation of artificial flowers made in the Palace. + Chia Lien disports himself with Hsi-feng. + Pao-yue meets Ch'in Chung at a family party. + + +To resume our narrative. Chou Jui's wife having seen old goody Liu off, +speedily came to report the visit to madame Wang; but, contrary to her +expectation, she did not find madame Wang in the drawing-room; and it +was after inquiring of the waiting-maids that she eventually learnt that +she had just gone over to have a chat with "aunt" Hsueeh. Mrs. Chou, upon +hearing this, hastily went out by the eastern corner door, and through +the yard on the east, into the Pear Fragrance Court. + +As soon as she reached the entrance, she caught sight of madame Wang's +waiting-maid, Chin Ch'uan-erh, playing about on the terrace steps, with +a young girl, who had just let her hair grow. When they saw Chou Jui's +wife approach, they forthwith surmised that she must have some message +to deliver, so they pursed up their lips and directed her to the +inner-room. Chou Jui's wife gently raised the curtain-screen, and upon +entering discovered madame Wang, in voluble conversation with "aunt" +Hsueeh, about family questions and people in general. + +Mrs. Chou did not venture to disturb them, and accordingly came into the +inner room, where she found Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai in a house dress, with her +hair simply twisted into a knot round the top of the head, sitting on +the inner edge of the stove-couch, leaning on a small divan table, in +the act of copying a pattern for embroidery, with the waiting-maid Ying +Erh. When she saw her enter, Pao Ch'ai hastily put down her pencil, and +turning round with a face beaming with smiles, "Sister Chou," she said, +"take a seat." + +Chou Jui's wife likewise promptly returned the smile. + +"How is my young lady?" she inquired, as she sat down on the edge of the +couch. "I haven't seen you come over on the other side for two or three +days! Has Mr. Pao-yue perhaps given you offence?" + +"What an idea!" exclaimed Pao Ch'ai, with a smile. "It's simply that +I've had for the last couple of days my old complaint again, and that +I've in consequence kept quiet all this time, and looked after myself." + +"Is that it?" asked Chou Jui's wife; "but after all, what rooted kind of +complaint are you subject to, miss? you should lose really no time in +sending for a doctor to diagnose it, and give you something to make you +all right. With your tender years, to have an organic ailment is indeed +no trifle!" + +Pao Ch'ai laughed when she heard these remarks. + +"Pray," she said, "don't allude to this again; for this ailment of mine +I've seen, I can't tell you, how many doctors; taken no end of medicine +and spent I don't know how much money; but the more we did so, not the +least little bit of relief did I see. Lucky enough, we eventually came +across a bald-pated bonze, whose speciality was the cure of nameless +illnesses. We therefore sent for him to see me, and he said that I had +brought this along with me from the womb as a sort of inflammatory +virus, that luckily I had a constitution strong and hale so that it +didn't matter; and that it would be of no avail if I took pills or any +medicines. He then told me a prescription from abroad, and gave me also +a packet of a certain powder as a preparative, with a peculiar smell and +strange flavour. He advised me, whenever my complaint broke out, to take +a pill, which would be sure to put me right again. And this has, after +all, strange to say, done me a great deal of good." + +"What kind of prescription is this one from abroad, I wonder," remarked +Mrs. Chou; "if you, miss, would only tell me, it would be worth our +while bearing it in mind, and recommending it to others: and if ever we +came across any one afflicted with this disease, we would also be doing +a charitable deed." + +"You'd better not ask for the prescription," rejoined Pao Ch'ai smiling. +"Why, its enough to wear one out with perplexity! the necessaries and +ingredients are few, and all easy to get, but it would be difficult to +find the lucky moment! You want twelve ounces of the pollen of the white +peone, which flowers in spring, twelve ounces of the pollen of the white +summer lily, twelve ounces of the pollen of the autumn hibiscus flower, +and twelve ounces of the white plum in bloom in the winter. You take the +four kinds of pollen, and put them in the sun, on the very day of the +vernal equinox of the succeeding year to get dry, and then you mix them +with the powder and pound them well together. You again want twelve mace +of water, fallen on 'rain water' day....." + +"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Chou promptly, as she laughed. "From all +you say, why you want three years' time! and what if no rain falls on +'rain water' day! What would one then do?" + +"Quite so!" Pao Ch'ai remarked smilingly; "how can there be such an +opportune rain on that very day! but to wait is also the best thing, +there's nothing else to be done. Besides, you want twelve mace of dew, +collected on 'White Dew' day, and twelve mace of the hoar frost, +gathered on 'Frost Descent' day, and twelve mace of snow, fallen on +'Slight Snow' day! You next take these four kinds of waters and mix them +with the other ingredients, and make pills of the size of a lungngan. +You keep them in an old porcelain jar, and bury them under the roots of +some flowers; and when the ailment betrays itself, you produce it and +take a pill, washing it down with two candareens of a yellow cedar +decoction." + +"O-mi-to-fu!" cried Mrs. Chou, when she heard all this, bursting out +laughing. "It's really enough to kill one! you might wait ten years and +find no such lucky moments!" + +"Fortunate for me, however," pursued Pao Ch'ai, "in the course of a year +or two, after the bonze had told me about this prescription, we got all +the ingredients; and, after much trouble, we compounded a supply, which +we have now brought along with us from the south to the north; and lies +at present under the pear trees." + +"Has this medicine any name or other of its own?" further inquired Mrs. +Chou. + +"It has a name," replied Pao Ch'ai; "the mangy-headed bonze also told it +me; he called it 'cold fragrance' pill." + +Chou Jui's wife nodded her head, as she heard these words. "What do you +feel like after all when this complaint manifests itself?" she went on +to ask. + +"Nothing much," replied Pao Ch'ai; "I simply pant and cough a bit; but +after I've taken a pill, I get over it, and it's all gone." + +Mrs. Chou was bent upon making some further remark, when madame Wang was +suddenly heard to enquire, "Who is in here?" + +Mrs. Chou went out hurriedly and answered; and forthwith told her all +about old goody Liu's visit. Having waited for a while, and seeing that +madame Wang had nothing to say, she was on the point of retiring, when +"aunt" Hsueh unexpectedly remarked smiling: "Wait a bit! I've something +to give you to take along with you." + +And as she spoke, she called for Hsiang Ling. The sound of the +screen-board against the sides of the door was heard, and in walked the +waiting-maid, who had been playing with Chin Ch'uan-erh. "Did my lady +call?" she asked. + +"Bring that box of flowers," said Mrs. Hsueh. + +Hsiang Ling assented, and brought from the other side a small +embroidered silk box. + +"These," explained "aunt" Hsueeh, "are a new kind of flowers, made in the +palace. They consist of twelve twigs of flowers of piled gauze. I +thought of them yesterday, and as they will, the pity is, only get old, +if uselessly put away, why not give them to the girls to wear them in +their hair! I meant to have sent them over yesterday, but I forgot all +about them. You come to-day most opportunely, and if you will take them +with you, I shall have got them off my hands. To the three young ladies +in your family give two twigs each, and of the six that will remain give +a couple to Miss Lin, and the other four to lady Feng." + +"Better keep them and give them to your daughter Pao Ch'ai to wear," +observed madame Wang, "and have done with it; why think of all the +others?" + +"You don't know, sister," replied "aunt" Hsueeh, "what a crotchety thing +Pao Ch'ai is! she has no liking for flower or powder." + +With these words on her lips, Chou Jui's wife took the box and walked +out of the door of the room. Perceiving that Chin Ch'uan-erh was still +sunning herself outside, Chou Jui's wife asked her: "Isn't this Hsiang +Ling, the waiting-maid that we've often heard of as having been +purchased just before the departure of the Hsueeh family for the capital, +and on whose account there occurred some case of manslaughter or other?" + +"Of course it's she," replied Chin Ch'uan. But as they were talking, +they saw Hsiang Ling draw near smirkingly, and Chou Jui's wife at once +seized her by the hand, and after minutely scrutinizing her face for a +time, she turned round to Chin Ch'uan-erh and smiled. "With these +features she really resembles slightly the style of lady Jung of our +Eastern Mansion." + +"So I too maintain!" said Chin Ch'uan-erh. + +Chou Jui's wife then asked Hsiang Ling, "At what age did you enter this +family? and where are your father and mother at present?" and also +inquired, "In what year of your teens are you? and of what place are you +a native?" + +But Hsiang Ling, after listening to all these questions, simply nodded +her head and replied, "I can't remember." + +When Mrs. Chou and Chin Ch'uan-erh heard these words, their spirits +changed to grief, and for a while they felt affected and wounded at +heart; but in a short time, Mrs. Chou brought the flowers into the room +at the back of madame Wang's principal apartment. + +The fact is that dowager lady Chia had explained that as her +granddaughters were too numerous, it would not be convenient to crowd +them together in one place, that Pao-yue and Tai-yue should only remain +with her in this part to break her loneliness, but that Ying Ch'un, T'an +Ch'un, and Hsi Ch'un, the three of them, should move on this side in the +three rooms within the antechamber, at the back of madame lady Wang's +quarters; and that Li Wan should be told off to be their attendant and +to keep an eye over them. + +Chou Jui's wife, therefore, on this occasion came first to these rooms +as they were on her way, but she only found a few waiting-maids +assembled in the antechamber, waiting silently to obey a call. + +Ying Ch'un's waiting-maid, Ssu Chi, together with Shih Shu, T'an Ch'un's +waiting-maid, just at this moment raised the curtain, and made their +egress, each holding in her hand a tea-cup and saucer; and Chou Jui's +wife readily concluding that the young ladies were sitting together also +walked into the inner room, where she only saw Ying Ch'un and T'an Ch'un +seated near the window, in the act of playing chess. Mrs. Chou presented +the flowers and explained whence they came, and what they were. + +The girls forthwith interrupted their game, and both with a curtsey, +expressed their thanks, and directed the waiting-maids to put the +flowers away. + +Mrs. Chou complied with their wishes (and handing over the flowers); +"Miss Hsi Ch'un," she remarked, "is not at home; and possibly she's over +there with our old lady." + +"She's in that room, isn't she?" inquired the waiting-maids. + +Mrs. Chou at these words readily came into the room on this side, where +she found Hsi Ch'un, in company with a certain Chih Neng, a young nun of +the "moon reflected on water" convent, talking and laughing together. On +seeing Chou Jui's wife enter, Hsi Ch'un at once asked what she wanted, +whereupon Chou Jui's wife opened the box of flowers, and explained who +had sent them. + +"I was just telling Chih Neng," remarked Hsi Ch'un laughing, "that I +also purpose shortly shaving my head and becoming a nun; and strange +enough, here you again bring me flowers; but supposing I shave my head, +where can I wear them?" + +They were all very much amused for a time with this remark, and Hsi +Ch'un told her waiting-maid, Ju Hua, to come and take over the flowers. + +"What time did you come over?" then inquired Mrs. Chou of Chih Neng. +"Where is that bald-pated and crotchety superior of yours gone?" + +"We came," explained Chih Neng, "as soon as it was day; after calling +upon madame Wang, my superior went over to pay a visit in the mansion of +Mr. Yue, and told me to wait for her here." + +"Have you received," further asked Mrs. Chou, "the monthly allowance for +incense offering due on the fifteenth or not?" + +"I can't say," replied Chih Neng. + +"Who's now in charge of the issue of the monthly allowances to the +various temples?" interposed Hsi Ch'un, addressing Mrs. Chou, as soon as +she heard what was said. + +"It's Yue Hsin," replied Chou Jui's wife, "who's intrusted with the +charge." + +"That's how it is," observed Hsi Ch'un with a chuckle; "soon after the +arrival of the Superior, Yue Hsin's wife came over and kept on whispering +with her for some time; so I presume it must have been about this +allowance." + +Mrs. Chou then went on to bandy a few words with Chih Neng, after which +she came over to lady Feng's apartments. Proceeding by a narrow passage, +she passed under Li Wan's back windows, and went along the wall +ornamented with creepers on the west. Going out of the western side +gate, she entered lady Feng's court, and walked over into the Entrance +Hall, where she only found the waiting-girl Feng Erh, sitting on the +doorsteps of lady Feng's apartments. + +When she caught sight of Mrs. Chou approaching, she at once waved her +hand, bidding her go to the eastern room. Chou Jui's wife understood her +meaning, and hastily came on tiptoe to the chamber on the east, where +she saw a nurse patting lady Feng's daughter to sleep. + +Mrs. Chou promptly asked the nurse in a low tone of voice: "Is the young +lady asleep at this early hour? But if even she is I must wake her up." + +The nurse nodded her head in assent, but as these inquiries were being +made, a sound of laughter came from over the other side, in which lady +Feng's voice could be detected; followed, shortly after, by the sound of +a door opening, and out came P'ing Erh, with a large brass basin in her +hands, which she told Feng Erh to fill with water and take inside. + +P'ing Erh forthwith entered the room on this side, and upon perceiving +Chou Jui's wife: "What have you come here again for, my old lady?" she +readily inquired. + +Chou Jui's wife rose without any delay, and handed her the box. "I've +come," said she, "to bring you a present of flowers." + +Upon hearing this, P'ing Erh opened the box, and took out four sprigs, +and, turning round, walked out of the room. In a short while she came +from the inner room with two sprigs in her hand, and calling first of +all Ts'ai Ming, she bade her take the flowers over to the mansion on the +other side and present them to "madame" Jung, after which she asked Mrs. +Chou to express her thanks on her return. + +Chou Jui's wife thereupon came over to dowager lady Chia's room on this +side of the compound, and as she was going through the Entrance Hall, +she casually came, face to face, with her daughter, got up in gala +dress, just coming from the house of her mother-in-law. + +"What are you running over here for at this time?" promptly inquired +Mrs. Chou. + +"Have you been well of late, mother?" asked her daughter. "I've been +waiting for ever so long at home, but you never come out! What's there +so pressing that has prevented you from returning home? I waited till I +was tired, and then went on all alone, and paid my respects to our +venerable lady; I'm now, on my way to inquire about our lady Wang. What +errand haven't you delivered as yet, ma; and what is it you're holding?" + +"Ai! as luck would have it," rejoined Chou Jui's wife smilingly, "old +goody Liu came over to-day, so that besides my own hundred and one +duties, I've had to run about here and there ever so long, and all for +her! While attending to these, Mrs. Hsueh came across me, and asked me +to take these flowers to the young ladies, and I've been at it up to +this very moment, and haven't done yet! But coming at this time, you +must surely have something or other that you want me to do for you! +what's it?" + +"Really ma, you're quick at guessing!" exclaimed her daughter with a +smile; "I'll tell you what it's all about. The day before yesterday, +your son-in-law had a glass of wine too many, and began altercating with +some person or other; and some one, I don't know why, spread some evil +report, saying that his antecedents were not clear, and lodged a charge +against him at the Yamen, pressing the authorities to deport him to his +native place. That's why I've come over to consult with you, as to whom +we should appeal to, to do us this favour of helping us out of our +dilemma!" + +"I knew at once," Mrs. Chou remarked after listening, "that there was +something wrong; but this is nothing hard to settle! Go home and wait +for me and I'll come straightway, as soon as I've taken these flowers to +Miss Lin; our madame Wang and lady Secunda have both no leisure (to +attend to you now,) so go back and wait for me! What's the use of so +much hurry!" + +Her daughter, upon hearing this, forthwith turned round to go back, when +she added as she walked away, "Mind, mother, and make haste." + +"All right," replied Chou Jui's wife, "of course I will; you are young +yet, and without experience, and that's why you are in this flurry." + +As she spoke, she betook herself into Tai-yue's apartments. Contrary to +her expectation Tai-yue was not at this time in her own room, but in +Pao-yue's; where they were amusing themselves in trying to solve the +"nine strung rings" puzzle. On entering Mrs. Chou put on a smile. +"'Aunt' Hsueeh," she explained, "has told me to bring these flowers and +present them to you to wear in your hair." + +"What flowers?" exclaimed Pao-yue. "Bring them here and let me see them." + +As he uttered these words, he readily stretched out his hands and took +them over, and upon opening the box and looking in, he discovered, in +fact, two twigs of a novel and artistic kind of artificial flowers, of +piled gauze, made in the palace. + +Tai-yue merely cast a glance at them, as Pao-yue held them. "Have these +flowers," she inquired eagerly, "been sent to me alone, or have all the +other girls got some too?" + +"Each one of the young ladies has the same," replied Mrs. Chou; "and +these two twigs are intended for you, miss." + +Tai-yue forced a smile. "Oh! I see," she observed. "If all the others +hadn't chosen, even these which remain over wouldn't have been given to +me." + +Chou Jui's wife did not utter a word in reply. + +"Sister Chou, what took you over on the other side?" asked Pao-yue. + +"I was told that our madame Wang was over there," explained Mrs. Chou, +"and as I went to give her a message, 'aunt' Hsueeh seized the +opportunity to ask me to bring over these flowers." + +"What was cousin Pao Ch'ai doing at home?" asked Pao-yue. "How is it +she's not even been over for these few days?" + +"She's not quite well," remarked Mrs. Chou. + +When Pao-yue heard this news, "Who'll go," he speedily ascertained of the +waiting-maids, "and inquire after her? Tell her that cousin Lin and I +have sent round to ask how our aunt and cousin are getting on! ask her +what she's ailing from and what medicines she's taking, and explain to +her that I know I ought to have gone over myself, but that on my coming +back from school a short while back, I again got a slight chill; and +that I'll go in person another day." + +While Pao-yue was yet speaking, Hsi Hsueeh volunteered to take the +message, and went off at once; and Mrs. Chou herself took her leave +without another word. + +Mrs. Chou's son-in-law was, in fact, Leng Tzu-hsing, the intimate friend +of Yue-ts'un. Having recently become involved with some party in a +lawsuit, on account of the sale of some curios, he had expressly charged +his wife to come and sue for the favour (of a helping hand). Chou Jui's +wife, relying upon her master's prestige, did not so much as take the +affair to heart; and having waited till evening, she simply went over +and requested lady Feng to befriend her, and the matter was forthwith +ended. + +When the lamps were lit, lady Feng came over, after having disrobed +herself, to see madame Wang. "I've already taken charge," she observed, +"of the things sent round to-day by the Chen family. As for the presents +from us to them, we should avail ourselves of the return of the boats, +by which the fresh delicacies for the new year were forwarded, to hand +them to them to carry back." + +Madame Wang nodded her head in token of approval. + +"The birthday presents," continued lady Feng, "for lady Ling Ngan, the +mother of the Earl of Ling Ngan, have already been got together, and +whom will you depute to take them over?" + +"See," suggested madame Wang, "who has nothing to do; let four maids go +and all will be right! why come again and ask me?" + +"Our eldest sister-in-law Chen," proceeded lady Feng, "came over to +invite me to go to-morrow to their place for a little change. I don't +think there will be anything for me to do to-morrow." + +"Whether there be or not," replied madame Wang, "it doesn't matter; you +must go, for whenever she comes with an invitation, it includes us, who +are your seniors, so that, of course, it isn't such a pleasant thing for +you; but as she doesn't ask us this time, but only asks you, it's +evident that she's anxious that you should have a little distraction, +and you mustn't disappoint her good intention. Besides it's certainly +right that you should go over for a change." + +Lady Feng assented, and presently Li Wan, Ying Ch'un and the other +cousins, likewise paid each her evening salutation and retired to their +respective rooms, where nothing of any notice transpired. + +The next day lady Feng completed her toilette, and came over first to +tell madame Wang that she was off, and then went to say good-bye to +dowager lady Chia; but when Pao-yue heard where she was going, he also +wished to go; and as lady Feng had no help but to give in, and to wait +until he had changed his clothes, the sister and brother-in-law got into +a carriage, and in a short while entered the Ning mansion. + +Mrs. Yu, the wife of Chia Chen, and Mrs. Ch'in, the wife of Mr. Chia +Jung, the two sisters-in-law, had, along with a number of maids, +waiting-girls, and other servants, come as far as the ceremonial gate to +receive them, and Mrs. Yu, upon meeting lady Feng, for a while indulged, +as was her wont, in humorous remarks, after which, leading Pao-yue by the +hand, they entered the drawing room and took their seats, Mrs. Ch'in +handed tea round. + +"What have you people invited me to come here for?" promptly asked lady +Feng; "if you have anything to present me with, hand it to me at once, +for I've other things to attend to." + +Mrs. Yu and Mrs. Ch'in had barely any time to exchange any further +remarks, when several matrons interposed, smilingly: "Had our lady not +come to-day, there would have been no help for it, but having come, you +can't have it all your own way." + +While they were conversing about one thing and another, they caught +sight of Chia Jung come in to pay his respects, which prompted Pao-yue to +inquire, "Isn't my elder brother at home to-day?" + +"He's gone out of town to-day," replied Mrs. Yu, "to inquire after his +grandfather. You'll find sitting here," she continued, "very dull, and +why not go out and have a stroll?" + +"A strange coincidence has taken place to-day," urged Mrs. Ch'in, with a +smile; "some time back you, uncle Pao, expressed a wish to see my +brother, and to-day he too happens to be here at home. I think he's in +the library; but why not go and see for yourself, uncle Pao?" + +Pao-yue descended at once from the stove-couch, and was about to go, when +Mrs. Yu bade the servants to mind and go with him. "Don't you let him +get into trouble," she enjoined. "It's a far different thing when he +comes over under the charge of his grandmother, when he's all right." + +"If that be so," remarked lady Feng, "why not ask the young gentleman to +come in, and then I too can see him. There isn't, I hope, any objection +to my seeing him?" + +"Never mind! never mind!" observed Mrs. Yu, smilingly; "it's as well +that you shouldn't see him. This brother of mine is not, like the boys +of our Chia family, accustomed to roughly banging and knocking about. +Other people's children are brought up politely and properly, and not in +this vixenish style of yours. Why, you'd ridicule him to death!" + +"I won't laugh at him then, that's all," smiled lady Feng; "tell them to +bring him in at once." + +"He's shy," proceeded Mrs. Ch'in, "and has seen nothing much of the +world, so that you are sure to be put out when you see him, sister." + +"What an idea!" exclaimed lady Feng. "Were he even No Cha himself, I'd +like to see him; so don't talk trash; if, after all, you don't bring him +round at once, I'll give you a good slap on the mouth." + +"I daren't be obstinate," answered Mrs. Ch'in smiling; "I'll bring him +round!" + +In a short while she did in fact lead in a young lad, who, compared with +Pao-yue, was somewhat more slight but, from all appearances, superior to +Pao-yue in eyes and eyebrows, (good looks), which were so clear and +well-defined, in white complexion and in ruddy lips, as well as graceful +appearance and pleasing manners. He was however bashful and timid, like +a girl. + +In a shy and demure way, he made a bow to lady Feng and asked after her +health. + +Lady Feng was simply delighted with him. "You take a low seat next to +him!" she ventured laughingly as she first pushed Pao-yue back. Then +readily stooping forward, she took this lad by the hand and asked him to +take a seat next to her. Presently she inquired about his age, his +studies and such matters, when she found that at school he went under +the name of Ch'in Chung. + +The matrons and maids in attendance on lady Feng, perceiving that this +was the first time their mistress met Ch'in Chung, (and knowing) that +she had not at hand the usual presents, forthwith ran over to the other +side and told P'ing Erh about it. + +P'ing Erh, aware of the close intimacy that existed between lady Feng +and Mrs. Ch'in, speedily took upon herself to decide, and selecting a +piece of silk, and two small gold medals, (bearing the wish that he +should attain) the highest degree, the senior wranglership, she handed +them to the servants who had come over, to take away. + +Lady Feng, however, explained that her presents were too mean by far, +but Mrs. Ch'in and the others expressed their appreciation of them; and +in a short time the repast was over, and Mrs. Yu, lady Feng and Mrs. +Ch'in played at dominoes, but of this no details need be given; while +both Pao-yue and Ch'in Chung sat down, got up and talked, as they +pleased. + +Since he had first glanced at Ch'in Chung, and seen what kind of person +he was, he felt at heart as if he had lost something, and after being +plunged in a dazed state for a time, he began again to give way to +foolish thoughts in his mind. + +"There are then such beings as he in the world!" he reflected. "I now +see there are! I'm however no better than a wallowing pig or a mangy +cow! Despicable destiny! why was I ever born in this household of a +marquis and in the mansion of a duke? Had I seen the light in the home +of some penniless scholar, or poverty-stricken official, I could long +ago have enjoyed the communion of his friendship, and I would not have +lived my whole existence in vain! Though more honourable than he, it is +indeed evident that silk and satins only serve to swathe this rotten +trunk of mine, and choice wines and rich meats only to gorge the filthy +drain and miry sewer of this body of mine! Wealth! and splendour! ye are +no more than contaminated with pollution by me!" + +Ever since Ch'in Chung had noticed Pao-yue's unusual appearance, his +sedate deportment, and what is more, his hat ornamented with gold, and +his dress full of embroidery, attended by beautiful maids and handsome +youths, he did not indeed think it a matter of surprise that every one +was fond of him. + +"Born as I have had the misfortune to be," he went on to commune within +himself, "in an honest, though poor family, how can I presume to enjoy +his companionship! This is verily a proof of what a barrier poverty and +wealth set between man and man. What a serious misfortune is this too in +this mortal world!" + +In wild and inane ideas of the same strain, indulged these two youths! + +Pao-yue by and by further asked of him what books he was reading, and +Ch'in Chung, in answer to these inquiries, told him the truth. A few +more questions and answers followed; and after about ten remarks, a +greater intimacy sprang up between them. + +Tea and fruits were shortly served, and while they were having their +tea, Pao-yue suggested, "We two don't take any wine, and why shouldn't we +have our fruit served on the small couch inside, and go and sit there, +and thus save you all the trouble?" + +The two of them thereupon came into the inner apartment to have their +tea; and Mrs. Ch'in attended to the laying out of fruit and wines for +lady Feng, and hurriedly entered the room and hinted to Pao-yue: "Dear +uncle Pao, your nephew is young, and should he happen to say anything +disrespectful, do please overlook it, for my sake, for though shy, he's +naturally of a perverse and wilful disposition, and is rather given to +having his own way." + +"Off with you!" cried Pao-yue laughing; "I know it all." Mrs. Ch'in then +went on to give a bit of advice to her brother, and at length came to +keep lady Feng company. Presently lady Feng and Mrs. Yu sent another +servant to tell Pao-yue that there was outside of everything they might +wish to eat and that they should mind and go and ask for it; and Pao-yue +simply signified that they would; but his mind was not set upon drinking +or eating; all he did was to keep making inquiries of Ch'in Chung about +recent family concerns. + +Ch'in Chung went on to explain that his tutor had last year relinquished +his post, that his father was advanced in years and afflicted with +disease, and had multifarious public duties to preoccupy his mind, so +that he had as yet had no time to make arrangements for another tutor, +and that all he did was no more than to keep up his old tasks; that as +regards study, it was likewise necessary to have the company of one or +two intimate friends, as then only, by dint of a frequent exchange of +ideas and opinions, one could arrive at progress; and Pao-yue gave him no +time to complete, but eagerly urged, "Quite so! But in our household, we +have a family school, and those of our kindred who have no means +sufficient to engage the services of a tutor are at liberty to come over +for the sake of study, and the sons and brothers of our relatives are +likewise free to join the class. As my own tutor went home last year, I +am now also wasting my time doing nothing; my father's intention was +that I too should have gone over to this school, so that I might at +least temporarily keep up what I have already read, pending the arrival +of my tutor next year, when I could again very well resume my studies +alone at home. But my grandmother raised objections; maintaining first +of all, that the boys who attend the family classes being so numerous, +she feared we would be sure to be up to mischief, which wouldn't be at +all proper; and that, in the second place, as I had been ill for some +time, the matter should be dropped, for the present. But as, from what +you say, your worthy father is very much exercised on this score, you +should, on your return, tell him all about it, and come over to our +school. I'll also be there as your schoolmate; and as you and I will +reap mutual benefit from each other's companionship, won't it be nice!" + +"When my father was at home the other day," Ch'in Chung smiled and said, +"he alluded to the question of a tutor, and explained that the free +schools were an excellent institution. He even meant to have come and +talked matters over with his son-in-law's father about my introduction, +but with the urgent concerns here, he didn't think it right for him to +come about this small thing, and make any trouble. But if you really +believe that I might be of use to you, in either grinding the ink, or +washing the slab, why shouldn't you at once make the needful +arrangements, so that neither you nor I may idle our time? And as we +shall be able to come together often and talk matters over, and set at +the same time our parents' minds at ease, and to enjoy the pleasure of +friendship, won't it be a profitable thing!" + +"Compose your mind!" suggested Pao-yue. "We can by and by first of all, +tell your brother-in-law, and your sister as well as sister-in-law +Secunda Lien; and on your return home to-day, lose no time in explaining +all to your worthy father, and when I get back, I'll speak to my +grandmother; and I can't see why our wishes shouldn't speedily be +accomplished." + +By the time they had arrived at this conclusion, the day was far +advanced, and the lights were about to be lit; and they came out and +watched them once more for a time as they played at dominoes. When they +came to settle their accounts Mrs. Ch'in and Mrs. Yu were again the +losers and had to bear the expense of a theatrical and dinner party; and +while deciding that they should enjoy this treat the day after the +morrow, they also had the evening repast. + +Darkness having set in, Mrs. Yu gave orders that two youths should +accompany Mr. Ch'in home. The matrons went out to deliver the +directions, and after a somewhat long interval, Ch'in Chung said goodbye +and was about to start on his way. + +"Whom have you told off to escort him?" asked Mrs. Yu. + +"Chiao Ta," replied the matrons, "has been told to go, but it happens +that he's under the effects of drink and making free use again of +abusive language." + +Mrs. Yu and Mrs. Chin remonstrated. "What's the use," they said, "of +asking him? that mean fellow shouldn't be chosen, but you will go again +and provoke him." + +"People always maintain," added lady Feng, "that you are far too +lenient. But fancy allowing servants in this household to go on in this +way; why, what will be the end of it?" + +"You don't mean to tell me," observed Mrs. Yu, "that you don't know this +Chiao Ta? Why, even the gentlemen one and all pay no heed to his doings! +your eldest brother, Chia Cheng, he too doesn't notice him. It's all +because when he was young he followed our ancestor in three or four +wars, and because on one occasion, by extracting our senior from the +heap of slain and carrying him on his back, he saved his life. He +himself suffered hunger and stole food for his master to eat; they had +no water for two days; and when he did get half a bowl, he gave it to +his master, while he himself had sewage water. He now simply presumes +upon the sentimental obligations imposed by these services. When the +seniors of the family still lived, they all looked upon him with +exceptional regard; but who at present ventures to interfere with him? +He is also advanced in years, and doesn't care about any decent manners; +his sole delight is wine; and when he gets drunk, there isn't a single +person whom he won't abuse. I've again and again told the stewards not +to henceforward ask Chiao Ta to do any work whatever, but to treat him +as dead and gone; and here he's sent again to-day." + +"How can I not know all about this Chiao Ta?" remarked lady Feng; "but +the secret of all this trouble is, that you won't take any decisive +step. Why not pack him off to some distant farm, and have done with +him?" And as she spoke, "Is our carriage ready?" she went on to inquire. + +"All ready and waiting," interposed the married women. + +Lady Feng also got up, said good-bye, and hand in hand with Pao-yue, they +walked out of the room, escorted by Mrs. Yu and the party, as far as the +entrance of the Main Hall, where they saw the lamps shedding a brilliant +light and the attendants all waiting on the platforms. Chiao Ta, +however, availing himself of Chia Chen's absence from home, and elated +by wine, began to abuse the head steward Lai Erh for his injustice. + +"You bully of the weak and coward with the strong," he cried, "when +there's any pleasant charge, you send the other servants, but when it's +a question of seeing any one home in the dark, then you ask me, you +disorderly clown! a nice way you act the steward, indeed! Do you forget +that if Mr. Chiao Ta chose to raise one leg, it would be a good deal +higher than your head! Remember please, that twenty years ago, Mr. Chiao +Ta wouldn't even so much as look at any one, no matter who it was; not +to mention a pack of hybrid creatures like yourselves!" + +While he went on cursing and railing with all his might, Chia Jung +appeared walking by lady Feng's carriage. All the servants having tried +to hush him and not succeeding, Chia Jung became exasperated; and +forthwith blew him up for a time. "Let some one bind him up," he cried, +"and tomorrow, when he's over the wine, I'll call him to task, and we'll +see if he won't seek death." + +Chiao Ta showed no consideration for Chia Jung. On the contrary, he +shouted with more vigour. Going up to Chia Jung: "Brother Jung," he +said, "don't put on the airs of a master with Chiao Ta. Not to speak of +a man such as you, why even your father and grandfather wouldn't presume +to display such side with Chiao Ta. Were it not for Chiao Ta, and him +alone, where would your office, honours, riches and dignity be? Your +ancestor, whom I brought back from the jaws of death, heaped up all this +estate, but up to this very day have I received no thanks for the +services I rendered! on the contrary, you come here and play the master; +don't say a word more, and things may come right; but if you do, I'll +plunge the blade of a knife white in you and extract it red." + +Lady Feng, from inside the carriage, remarked to Chia Jung: "Don't you +yet pack off this insolent fellow! Why, if you keep him in your house, +won't he be a source of mischief? Besides, were relatives and friends to +hear about these things, won't they have a laugh at our expense, that a +household like ours should be so devoid of all propriety?" + +Chia Jung assented. The whole band of servants finding that Chiao Ta was +getting too insolent had no help but to come up and throw him over, and +binding him up, they dragged him towards the stables. Chiao Ta abused +even Chia Chen with still more vehemence, and shouted in a boisterous +manner. "I want to go," he cried, "to the family Ancestral Temple and +mourn my old master. Who would have ever imagined that he would leave +behind such vile creatures of descendants as you all, day after day +indulging in obscene and incestuous practices, 'in scraping of the +ashes' and in philandering with brothers-in-law. I know all about your +doings; the best thing is to hide one's stump of an arm in one's +sleeve!" (wash one's dirty clothes at home). + +The servants who stood by, upon hearing this wild talk, were quite at +their wits' end, and they at once seized him, tied him up, and filled +his mouth to the fullest extent with mud mixed with some horse refuse. + +Lady Feng and Chia Jung heard all he said from a distance, but pretended +not to hear; but Pao-yue, seated in the carriage as he was, also caught +this extravagant talk and inquired of lady Feng: "Sister, did you hear +him say something about 'scraping of the ashes?' What's it?" + +"Don't talk such rubbish!" hastily shouted lady Feng; "it was the +maudlin talk of a drunkard! A nice boy you are! not to speak of your +listening, but you must also inquire! wait and I'll tell your mother and +we'll see if she doesn't seriously take you to task." + +Pao-yue was in such a state of fright that he speedily entreated her to +forgive him. "My dear sister," he craved, "I won't venture again to say +anything of the kind" + +"My dear brother, if that be so, it's all right!" rejoined lady Feng +reassuringly; "on our return we'll speak to her venerable ladyship and +ask her to send some one to arrange matters in the family school, and +invite Ch'in Chung to come to school for his studies." + +While yet this conversation was going on, they arrived at the Jung +Mansion. + +Reader, do you wish to know what follows? if you do, the next chapter +will unfold it. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + By a strange coincidence, Chia Pao-yue becomes acquainted with the + golden clasp. + In an unexpected meeting, Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai sees the jade of spiritual + perception. + + +Pao-yue and lady Feng, we will now explain, paid, on their return home, +their respects to all the inmates, and Pao-yue availed himself of the +first occasion to tell dowager lady Chia of his wish that Ch'in Chung +should come over to the family school. "The presence for himself of a +friend as schoolmate would," he argued, "be fitly excellent to stir him +to zeal," and he went on to speak in terms of high praise of Ch'in +Chung, his character and his manners, which most of all made people +esteem him. + +Lady Feng besides stood by him and backed his request. "In a day or +two," she added, "Ch'in Chung will be coming to pay his obeisance to +your venerable ladyship." + +This bit of news greatly rejoiced the heart of dowager lady Chia, and +lady Feng likewise did not let the opportunity slip, without inviting +the old lady to attend the theatrical performance to come off the day +after the morrow. Dowager lady Chia was, it is true, well on in years, +but was, nevertheless, very fond of enjoyment, so that when the day +arrived and Mrs. Yu came over to invite her round, she forthwith took +madame Wang, Lin Tai-yue, Pao-yue and others along and went to the play. + +It was about noon, when dowager lady Chia returned to her apartments for +her siesta; and madame Wang, who was habitually partial to a quiet life, +also took her departure after she had seen the old lady retire. Lady +Feng subsequently took the seat of honour; and the party enjoyed +themselves immensely till the evening, when they broke up. + +But to return to Pao-yue. Having accompanied his grandmother Chia back +home, and waited till her ladyship was in her midday sleep, he had in +fact an inclination to return to the performance, but he was afraid lest +he should be a burden to Mrs. Ch'in and the rest and lest they should +not feel at ease. Remembering therefore that Pao Ch'ai had been at home +unwell for the last few days, and that he had not been to see her, he +was anxious to go and look her up, but he dreaded that if he went by the +side gate, at the back of the drawing-room, he would be prevented by +something or other, and fearing, what would be making matters worse, +lest he should come across his father, he consequently thought it better +to go on his way by a detour. The nurses and waiting-maids thereupon +came to help him to change his clothes; but they saw him not change, but +go out again by the second door. These nurses and maids could not help +following him out; but they were still under the impression that he was +going over to the other mansion to see the theatricals. Contrary to +their speculations, upon reaching the entrance hall, he forthwith went +to the east, then turned to the north, and walking round by the rear of +the hall, he happened to come face to face with two of the family +companions, Mr. Ch'an Kuang, and Mr. Tan T'ing-jen. As soon as they +caught sight of Pao-yue, they both readily drew up to him, and as they +smiled, the one put his arm round his waist, while the other grasped him +by the hand. + +"Oh divine brother!" they both exclaimed, "this we call dreaming a +pleasant dream, for it's no easy thing to come across you!" + +While continuing their remarks they paid their salutations, and inquired +after his health; and it was only after they had chatted for ever so +long, that they went on their way. The nurse called out to them and +stopped them, "Have you two gentlemen," she said, "come out from seeing +master?" + +They both nodded assent. "Your master," they explained, "is in the Meng +P'o Chai small library having his siesta; so that you can go through +there with no fear." + +As they uttered these words, they walked away. + +This remark also evoked a smile from Pao-yue, but without further delay +he turned a corner, went towards the north, and came into the Pear +Fragrance Court, where, as luck would have it, he met the head manager +of the Household Treasury, Wu Hsin-teng, who, in company with the head +of the granary, Tai Liang, and several other head stewards, seven +persons in all, was issuing out of the Account Room. + +On seeing Pao-yue approaching, they, in a body, stood still, and hung +down their arms against their sides. One of them alone, a certain +butler, called Ch'ien Hua, promptly came forward, as he had not seen +Pao-yue for many a day, and bending on one knee, paid his respects to +Pao-yue. Pao-yue at once gave a smile and pulled him up. + +"The day before yesterday," smiled all the bystanders, "we were +somewhere together and saw some characters written by you, master +Secundus, in the composite style. The writing is certainly better than +it was before! When will you give us a few sheets to stick on the wall?" + +"Where did you see them?" inquired Pao-yue, with a grin. + +"They are to be found in more than one place," they replied, "and every +one praises them very much, and what's more, asks us for a few." + +"They are not worth having," observed Pao-yue smilingly; "but if you do +want any, tell my young servants and it will be all right." + +As he said these words, he moved onwards. The whole party waited till he +had gone by, before they separated, each one to go his own way. + +But we need not dilate upon matters of no moment, but return to Pao-yue. + +On coming to the Pear Fragrance Court, he entered, first, into "aunt" +Hsueeh's room, where he found her getting some needlework ready to give +to the waiting-maids to work at. Pao-yue forthwith paid his respects to +her, and "aunt" Hsueeh, taking him by the hand, drew him towards her and +clasped him in her embrace. + +"With this cold weather," she smilingly urged, "it's too kind of you, my +dear child, to think of coming to see me; come along on the stove-couch +at once!--Bring some tea," she continued, addressing the servants, "and +make it as hot as it can be!" + +"Isn't Hsueeh P'an at home?" Pao-yue having inquired: "He's like a horse +without a halter," Mrs. Hsueeh remarked with a sigh; "he's daily running +here and there and everywhere, and nothing can induce him to stay at +home one single day." + +"Is sister (Pao Ch'ai) all right again?" asked Pao-yue. "Yes," replied +Mrs. Hsueeh, "she's well again. It was very kind of you two days ago to +again think of her, and send round to inquire after her. She's now in +there, and you can go and see her. It's warmer there than it's here; go +and sit with her inside, and, as soon as I've put everything away, I'll +come and join you and have a chat." + +Pao-yue, upon hearing this, jumped down with alacrity from the +stove-couch, and walked up to the door of the inner room, where he saw +hanging a portiere somewhat the worse for use, made of red silk. Pao-yue +raised the portiere and making one step towards the interior, he found +Pao Ch'ai seated on the couch, busy over some needlework. On the top of +her head was gathered, and made into a knot, her chevelure, black as +lacquer, and glossy like pomade. She wore a honey-coloured wadded robe, +a rose-brown short-sleeved jacket, lined with the fur of the squirrel of +two colours: the "gold and silver;" and a jupe of leek-yellow silk. Her +whole costume was neither too new, neither too old, and displayed no +sign of extravagance. + +Her lips, though not rouged, were naturally red; her eyebrows, though +not pencilled, were yet blue black; her face resembled a silver basin, +and her eyes, juicy plums. She was sparing in her words, chary in her +talk, so much so that people said that she posed as a simpleton. She was +quiet in the acquittal of her duties and scrupulous as to the proper +season for everything. "I practise simplicity," she would say of +herself. + +"How are you? are you quite well again, sister?" inquired Pao-yue, as he +gazed at her; whereupon Pao Ch'ai raised her head, and perceiving Pao-yue +walk in, she got up at once and replied with a smile, "I'm all right +again; many thanks for your kindness in thinking of me." + +While uttering this, she pressed him to take a seat on the stove-couch, +and as he sat down on the very edge of the couch, she told Ying Erh to +bring tea and asked likewise after dowager lady Chia and lady Feng. "And +are all the rest of the young ladies quite well?" she inquired. + +Saying this she scrutinised Pao-yue, who she saw had a head-dress of +purplish-gold twisted threads, studded with precious stones. His +forehead was bound with a gold circlet, representing two dragons, +clasping a pearl. On his person he wore a light yellow, archery-sleeved +jacket, ornamented with rampant dragons, and lined with fur from the +ribs of the silver fox; and was clasped with a dark sash, embroidered +with different-coloured butterflies and birds. Round his neck was hung +an amulet, consisting of a clasp of longevity, a talisman of recorded +name, and, in addition to these, the precious jade which he had had in +his mouth at the time of his birth. + +"I've daily heard every one speak of this jade," said Pao Ch'ai with a +smile, "but haven't, after all, had an opportunity of looking at it +closely, but anyhow to-day I must see it." + +As she spoke, she drew near. Pao-yue himself approached, and taking it +from his neck, he placed it in Pao Ch'ai's hand. Pao Ch'ai held it in +her palm. It appeared to her very much like the egg of a bird, +resplendent as it was like a bright russet cloud; shiny and smooth like +variegated curd and covered with a net for the sake of protection. + +Readers, you should know that this was the very block of useless stone +which had been on the Ta Huang Hills, and which had dropped into the +Ch'ing Keng cave, in a state of metamorphosis. A later writer expresses +his feelings in a satirical way as follows: + + Nue Wo's fusion of stones was e'er a myth inane, + But from this myth hath sprung fiction still more insane! + Lost is the subtle life, divine, and real!--gone! + Assumed, mean subterfuge! foul bags of skin and bone! + Fortune, when once adverse, how true! gold glows no more! + In evil days, alas! the jade's splendour is o'er! + Bones, white and bleached, in nameless hill-like mounds are flung, + Bones once of youths renowned and maidens fair and young. + +The rejected stone has in fact already given a record of the +circumstances of its transformation, and the inscription in seal +characters, engraved upon it by the bald-headed bonze, and below will +now be also appended a faithful representation of it; but its real size +is so very diminutive, as to allow of its being held by a child in his +mouth while yet unborn, that were it to have been drawn in its exact +proportions, the characters would, it is feared, have been so +insignificant in size, that the beholder would have had to waste much of +his eyesight, and it would besides have been no pleasant thing. + +While therefore its shape has been adhered to, its size has unavoidably +been slightly enlarged, to admit of the reader being able, conveniently, +to peruse the inscription, even by very lamplight, and though he may be +under the influence of wine. + +These explanations have been given to obviate any such sneering remarks +as: "What could be, pray, the size of the mouth of a child in his +mother's womb, and how could it grasp such a large and clumsy thing?" + +On the face of the jade was written: + + Precious Gem of Spiritual Perception. + If thou wilt lose me not and never forget me, + Eternal life and constant luck will be with thee! + +On the reverse was written: + + 1 To exorcise evil spirits and the accessory visitations; + 2 To cure predestined sickness; + 3 To prognosticate weal and woe. + +Pao Ch'ai having looked at the amulet, twisted it again to the face, and +scrutinising it closely, read aloud: + + If thou wilt lose me not and never forget me, + Eternal life and constant luck will be with thee! + +She perused these lines twice, and, turning round, she asked Ying Erh +laughingly: "Why don't you go and pour the tea? what are you standing +here like an idiot!" + +"These two lines which I've heard," smiled Ying Erh, "would appear to +pair with the two lines on your necklet, miss!" + +"What!" eagerly observed Pao-yue with a grin, when he caught these words, +"are there really eight characters too on your necklet, cousin? do let +me too see it." + +"Don't listen to what she says," remarked Pao Ch'ai, "there are no +characters on it." + +"My dear cousin," pleaded Pao-yue entreatingly, "how is it you've seen +mine?" + +Pao Ch'ai was brought quite at bay by this remark of his, and she +consequently added, "There are also two propitious phrases engraved on +this charm, and that's why I wear it every day. Otherwise, what pleasure +would there be in carrying a clumsy thing." + +As she spoke, she unfastened the button, and produced from inside her +crimson robe, a crystal-like locket, set with pearls and gems, and with +a brilliant golden fringe. Pao-yue promptly received it from her, and +upon minute examination, found that there were in fact four characters +on each side; the eight characters on both sides forming two sentences +of good omen. The similitude of the locket is likewise then given below. +On the face of the locket is written: + + "Part not from me and cast me not away;" + +And on the reverse: + + "And youth, perennial freshness will display!" + +Pao-yue examined the charm, and having also read the inscription twice +over aloud, and then twice again to himself, he said as he smiled, "Dear +cousin, these eight characters of yours form together with mine an +antithetical verse." + +"They were presented to her," ventured Ying Erh, "by a mangy-pated +bonze, who explained that they should be engraved on a golden +trinket...." + +Pao Ch'ai left her no time to finish what she wished to say, but +speedily called her to task for not going to bring the tea, and then +inquired of Pao-yue "Where he had come from?" + +Pao-yue had, by this time, drawn quite close to Pao Ch'ai, and perceived +whiff after whiff of some perfume or other, of what kind he could not +tell. "What perfume have you used, my cousin," he forthwith asked, "to +fumigate your dresses with? I really don't remember smelling any +perfumery of the kind before." + +"I'm very averse," replied Pao Ch'ai blandly, "to the odour of +fumigation; good clothes become impregnated with the smell of smoke." + +"In that case," observed Pao-yue, "what scent is it?" + +"Yes, I remember," Pao Ch'ai answered, after some reflection; "it's the +scent of the 'cold fragrance' pills which I took this morning." + +"What are these cold fragrance pills," remarked Pao-yue smiling, "that +they have such a fine smell? Give me, cousin, a pill to try." + +"Here you are with your nonsense again," Pao Ch'ai rejoined laughingly; +"is a pill a thing to be taken recklessly?" + +She had scarcely finished speaking, when she heard suddenly some one +outside say, "Miss Lin is come;" and shortly Lin Tai-yue walked in in a +jaunty manner. + +"Oh, I come at a wrong moment!" she exclaimed forthwith, smirking +significantly when she caught sight of Pao-yue. + +Pao-yue and the rest lost no time in rising and offering her a seat, +whereupon Pao Ch'ai added with a smile, "How can you say such things?" + +"Had I known sooner," continued Tai-yue, "that he was here, I would have +kept away." + +"I can't fathom this meaning of yours," protested Pao Ch'ai. + +"If one comes," Tai-yue urged smiling, "then all come, and when one +doesn't come, then no one comes. Now were he to come to-day, and I to +come to-morrow, wouldn't there be, by a division of this kind, always +some one with you every day? and in this way, you wouldn't feel too +lonely, nor too crowded. How is it, cousin, that you didn't understand +what I meant to imply?" + +"Is it snowing?" inquired Pao-yue, upon noticing that she wore a cloak +made of crimson camlet, buttoning in front. + +"It has been snowing for some time," ventured the matrons, who were +standing below. "Fetch my wrapper!" Pao-yue remarked, and Tai-yue readily +laughed. "Am I not right? I come, and, of course, he must go at once." + +"Did I ever mention that I was going?" questioned Pao-yue; "I only wish +it brought to have it ready when I want it." + +"It's a snowy day," consequently remarked Pao-yue's nurse, dame Li, "and +we must also look to the time, but you had better remain here and amuse +yourself with your cousin. Your aunt has, in there, got ready tea and +fruits. I'll tell the waiting-maid to go and fetch your wrapper and the +boys to return home." Pao-yue assented, and nurse Li left the room and +told the boys that they were at liberty to go. + +By this time Mrs. Hsueeh had prepared tea and several kinds of nice +things and kept them all to partake of those delicacies. Pao-yue, having +spoken highly of some goose feet and ducks' tongues he had tasted some +days before, at his eldest sister-in-law's, Mrs. Yu's, "aunt" Hsueeh +promptly produced several dishes of the same kind, made by herself, and +gave them to Pao-yue to try. "With a little wine," added Pao-yue with a +smile, "they would be first rate." + +Mrs. Hsueeh thereupon bade the servants fetch some wine of the best +quality; but dame Li came forward and remonstrated. "My lady," she said, +"never mind the wine." + +Pao-yue smilingly pleaded: "My nurse, I'll take just one cup and no +more." + +"It's no use," nurse Li replied, "were your grandmother and mother +present, I wouldn't care if you drank a whole jar. I remember the day +when I turned my eyes away but for a moment, and some ignorant fool or +other, merely with the view of pandering for your favour, gave you only +a drop of wine to drink, and how this brought reproaches upon me for a +couple of days. You don't know, my lady, you have no idea of his +disposition! it's really dreadful; and when he has had a little wine he +shows far more temper. On days when her venerable ladyship is in high +spirits, she allows him to have his own way about drinking, but he's not +allowed to have wine on any and every day; and why should I have to +suffer inside and all for nothing at all?" + +"You antiquated thing!" replied Mrs. Hsueeh laughing, "set your mind at +ease, and go and drink your own wine! I won't let him have too much, and +should even the old lady say anything, let the fault be mine." + +Saying this, she asked a waiting-maid to take nurse Li along with her +and give her also a glass of wine so as to keep out the cold air. + +When nurse Li heard these words, she had no alternative but to go for a +time with all the others and have some wine to drink. + +"The wine need not be warmed: I prefer it cold!" Pao-yue went on to +suggest meanwhile. + +"That won't do," remonstrated Mrs. Hsueeh; "cold wine will make your hand +tremble when you write." + +"You have," interposed Pao Ch'ai smiling, "the good fortune, cousin +Pao-yue, of having daily opportunities of acquiring a knowledge of every +kind of subject, and yet don't you know that the properties of wine are +mostly heating? If you drink wine warm, its effects soon dispel, but if +you drink it cold, it at once congeals in you; and as upon your +intestines devolves the warming of it, how can you not derive any harm? +and won't you yet from this time change this habit of yours? leave off +at once drinking that cold wine." + +Pao-yue finding that the words he had heard contained a good deal of +sense, speedily put down the cold wine, and having asked them to warm +it, he at length drank it. + +Tai-yue was bent upon cracking melon seeds, saying nothing but simply +pursing up her lips and smiling, when, strange coincidence, Hsueeh Yen, +Tai-yue's waiting-maid, walked in and handed her mistress a small +hand-stove. + +"Who told you to bring it?" ascertained Tai-yue grinningly. "I'm sorry to +have given whoever it is the trouble; I'm obliged to her. But did she +ever imagine that I would freeze to death?" + +"Tzu Chuan was afraid," replied Hsueeh Yen, "that you would, miss, feel +cold, and she asked me to bring it over." + +Tai-yue took it over and held it in her lap. "How is it," she smiled, +"that you listen to what she tells you, but that you treat what I say, +day after day, as so much wind blowing past your ears! How is it that +you at once do what she bids you, with even greater alacrity than you +would an imperial edict?" + +When Pao-yue heard this, he felt sure in his mind that Tai-yue was +availing herself of this opportunity to make fun of him, but he made no +remark, merely laughing to himself and paying no further notice. Pao +Ch'ai, again, knew full well that this habit was a weak point with +Tai-yue, so she too did not go out of her way to heed what she said. + +"You've always been delicate and unable to stand the cold," interposed +"aunt" Hsueeh, "and is it not a kind attention on their part to have +thought of you?" + +"You don't know, aunt, how it really stands," responded Tai-yue +smilingly; "fortunately enough, it was sent to me here at your quarters; +for had it been in any one else's house, wouldn't it have been a slight +upon them? Is it forsooth nice to think that people haven't so much as a +hand-stove, and that one has fussily to be sent over from home? People +won't say that the waiting-maids are too officious, but will imagine +that I'm in the habit of behaving in this offensive fashion." + +"You're far too punctilious," remarked Mrs. Hsueeh, "as to entertain such +notions! No such ideas as these crossed my mind just now." + +While they were conversing, Pao-yue had taken so much as three cups of +wine, and nurse Li came forward again to prevent him from having any +more. Pao-yue was just then in a state of exultation and excitement, (a +state) enhanced by the conversation and laughter of his cousins, so that +was he ready to agree to having no more! But he was constrained in a +humble spirit to entreat for permission. "My dear nurse," he implored, +"I'll just take two more cups and then have no more." + +"You'd better be careful," added nurse Li, "your father is at home +to-day, and see that you're ready to be examined in your lessons." + +When Pao-yue heard this mention, his spirits at once sank within him, and +gently putting the wine aside, he dropped his head upon his breast. + +Tai-yue promptly remonstrated. "You've thrown cold water," she said, +"over the spirits of the whole company; why, if uncle should ask to see +you, well, say that aunt Hsueeh detained you. This old nurse of yours has +been drinking, and again makes us the means of clearing her muddled +head!" + +While saying this, she gave Pao-yue a big nudge with the intent of +stirring up his spirits, adding, as she addressed him in a low tone of +voice: "Don't let us heed that old thing, but mind our own enjoyment." + +Dame Li also knew very well Tai-yue's disposition, and therefore +remarked: "Now, Miss Lin, don't you urge him on; you should after all, +give him good advice, as he may, I think, listen to a good deal of what +you say to him." + +"Why should I urge him on?" rejoined Lin Tai-yue, with a sarcastic smile, +"nor will I trouble myself to give him advice. You, old lady, are far +too scrupulous! Old lady Chia has also time after time given him wine, +and if he now takes a cup or two more here, at his aunt's, lady Hsueeh's +house, there's no harm that I can see. Is it perhaps, who knows, that +aunt is a stranger in this establishment, and that we have in fact no +right to come over here to see her?" + +Nurse Li was both vexed and amused by the words she had just heard. +"Really," she observed, "every remark this girl Lin utters is sharper +than a razor! I didn't say anything much!" + +Pao Ch'ai too could not suppress a smile, and as she pinched Tai-yue's +cheek, she exclaimed, "Oh the tongue of this frowning girl! one can +neither resent what it says, nor yet listen to it with any +gratification!" + +"Don't be afraid!" Mrs. Hsueeh went on to say, "don't be afraid; my son, +you've come to see me, and although I've nothing good to give you, you +mustn't, through fright, let the trifle you've taken lie heavy on your +stomach, and thus make me uneasy; but just drink at your pleasure, and +as much as you like, and let the blame fall on my shoulders. What's +more, you can stay to dinner with me, and then go home; or if you do get +tipsy, you can sleep with me, that's all." + +She thereupon told the servants to heat some more wine. "I'll come," she +continued, "and keep you company while you have two or three cups, after +which we'll have something to eat!" + +It was only after these assurances that Pao-yue's spirits began at +length, once more to revive, and dame Li then directed the waiting-maids +what to do. "You remain here," she enjoined, "and mind, be diligent +while I go home and change; when I'll come back again. Don't allow him," +she also whispered to "aunt" Hsueeh, "to have all his own way and drink +too much." + +Having said this, she betook herself back to her quarters; and during +this while, though there were two or three nurses in attendance, they +did not concern themselves with what was going on. As soon as they saw +that nurse Li had left, they likewise all quietly slipped out, at the +first opportunity they found, while there remained but two +waiting-maids, who were only too glad to curry favour with Pao-yue. But +fortunately "aunt" Hsueeh, by much coaxing and persuading, only let him +have a few cups, and the wine being then promptly cleared away, pickled +bamboo shoots and chicken-skin soup were prepared, of which Pao-yue drank +with relish several bowls full, eating besides more than half a bowl of +finest rice congee. + +By this time, Hsueeh Pao Ch'ai and Lin Tai-yue had also finished their +repast; and when Pao-yue had drunk a few cups of strong tea, Mrs. Hsueeh +felt more easy in her mind. Hsueeh Yen and the others, three or four of +them in all, had also had their meal, and came in to wait upon them. + +"Are you now going or not?" inquired Tai-yue of Pao-yue. + +Pao-yue looked askance with his drowsy eyes. "If you want to go," he +observed, "I'll go with you." + +Tai-yue hearing this, speedily rose. "We've been here nearly the whole +day," she said, "and ought to be going back." + +As she spoke the two of them bade good-bye, and the waiting-maids at +once presented a hood to each of them. + +Pao-yue readily lowered his head slightly and told a waiting-maid to put +it on. The girl promptly took the hood, made of deep red cloth, and +shaking it out of its folds, she put it on Pao-yue's head. + +"That will do," hastily exclaimed Pao-yue. "You stupid thing! gently a +bit; is it likely you've never seen any one put one on before? let me do +it myself." + +"Come over here, and I'll put it on for you," suggested Tai-yue, as she +stood on the edge of the couch. Pao-yue eagerly approached her, and +Tai-yue carefully kept the cap, to which his hair was bound, fast down, +and taking the hood she rested its edge on the circlet round his +forehead. She then raised the ball of crimson velvet, which was as large +as a walnut, and put it in such a way that, as it waved tremulously, it +should appear outside the hood. These arrangements completed she cast a +look for a while at what she had done. "That's right now," she added, +"throw your wrapper over you!" + +When Pao-yue caught these words, he eventually took the wrapper and threw +it over his shoulders. + +"None of your nurses," hurriedly interposed aunt Hsueeh, "are yet come, +so you had better wait a while." + +"Why should we wait for them?" observed Pao-yue. "We have the +waiting-maids to escort us, and surely they should be enough." + +Mrs. Hsueeh finding it difficult to set her mind at ease deputed two +married women to accompany the two cousins; and after they had both +expressed (to these women) their regret at having troubled them, they +came straightway to dowager lady Chia's suite of apartments. + +Her venerable ladyship had not, as yet, had her evening repast. Hearing +that they had been at Mrs. Hsueeh's, she was extremely pleased; but +noticing that Pao-yue had had some wine, she gave orders that he should +be taken to his room, and put to bed, and not be allowed to come out +again. + +"Do take good care of him," she therefore enjoined the servants, and +when suddenly she bethought herself of Pao-yue's attendants, "How is it," +she at once inquired of them all, "that I don't see nurse Li here?" + +They did not venture to tell her the truth, that she had gone home, but +simply explained that she had come in a few moments back, and that they +thought she must have again gone out on some business or other. + +"She's better off than your venerable ladyship," remarked Pao-yue, +turning round and swaying from side to side. "Why then ask after her? +Were I rid of her, I believe I might live a little longer." + +While uttering these words, he reached the door of his bedroom, where he +saw pen and ink laid out on the writing table. + +"That's nice," exclaimed Ch'ing Wen, as she came to meet him with a +smile on her face, "you tell me to prepare the ink for you, but though +when you get up, you were full of the idea of writing, you only wrote +three characters, when you discarded the pencil, and ran away, fooling +me, by making me wait the whole day! Come now at once and exhaust all +this ink before you're let off." + +Pao-yue then remembered what had taken place in the morning. "Where are +the three characters I wrote?" he consequently inquired, smiling. + +"Why this man is tipsy," remarked Ch'ing Wen sneeringly. "As you were +going to the other mansion, you told me to stick them over the door. I +was afraid lest any one else should spoil them, as they were being +pasted, so I climbed up a high ladder and was ever so long in putting +them up myself; my hands are even now numb with cold." + +"Oh I forgot all about it," replied Pao-yue grinning, "if your hands are +cold, come and I'll rub them warm for you." + +Promptly stretching out his hand, he took those of Ch'ing Wen in his, +and the two of them looked at the three characters, which he recently +had written, and which were pasted above the door. In a short while, +Tai-yue came. + +"My dear cousin," Pao-yue said to her smilingly, "tell me without any +prevarication which of the three characters is the best written?" + +Tai-yue raised her head and perceived the three characters: Red, Rue, +Hall. "They're all well done," she rejoined, with a smirk, "How is it +you've written them so well? By and bye you must also write a tablet for +me." + +"Are you again making fun of me?" asked Pao-yue smiling; "what about +sister Hsi Jen?" he went on to inquire. + +Ch'ing Wen pouted her lips, pointing towards the stove-couch in the +inner room, and, on looking in, Pao-yue espied Hsi Jen fast asleep in her +daily costume. + +"Well," Pao-yue observed laughing, "there's no harm in it, but its rather +early to sleep. When I was having my early meal, on the other side," he +proceeded, speaking to Ch'ing Wen, "there was a small dish of dumplings, +with bean-curd outside; and as I thought you would like to have some, I +asked Mrs. Yu for them, telling her that I would keep them, and eat them +in the evening; I told some one to bring them over, but have you +perchance seen them?" + +"Be quick and drop that subject," suggested Ch'ing Wen; "as soon as they +were brought over, I at once knew they were intended for me; as I had +just finished my meal, I put them by in there, but when nurse Li came +she saw them. 'Pao-yue,' she said, 'is not likely to eat them, so I'll +take them and give them to my grandson.' And forthwith she bade some one +take them over to her home." + +While she was speaking, Hsi Hsueeh brought in tea, and Pao-yue pressed his +cousin Lin to have a cup. + +"Miss Lin has gone long ago," observed all of them, as they burst out +laughing, "and do you offer her tea?" + +Pao-yue drank about half a cup, when he also suddenly bethought himself +of some tea, which had been brewed in the morning. "This morning," he +therefore inquired of Hsi Hsueeh, "when you made a cup of maple-dew tea, +I told you that that kind of tea requires brewing three or four times +before its colour appears; and how is that you now again bring me this +tea?" + +"I did really put it by," answered Hsi Hsueeh, "but nurse Li came and +drank it, and then went off." + +Pao-yue upon hearing this, dashed the cup he held in his hand on the +ground, and as it broke into small fragments, with a crash, it spattered +Hsi Hsueeh's petticoat all over. + +"Of whose family is she the mistress?" inquired Pao-yue of Hsi Hsueeh, as +he jumped up, "that you all pay such deference to her. I just simply had +a little of her milk, when I was a brat, and that's all; and now she has +got into the way of thinking herself more high and mighty than even the +heads of the family! She should be packed off, and then we shall all +have peace and quiet." + +Saying this, he was bent upon going, there and then, to tell dowager +lady Chia to have his nurse driven away. + +Hsi Jen was really not asleep, but simply feigning, with the idea, when +Pao-yue came, to startle him in play. At first, when she heard him speak +of writing, and inquire after the dumplings, she did not think it +necessary to get up, but when he flung the tea-cup on the floor, and got +into a temper, she promptly jumped up and tried to appease him, and to +prevent him by coaxing from carrying out his threat. + +A waiting-maid sent by dowager lady Chia came in, meanwhile, to ask what +was the matter. + +"I had just gone to pour tea," replied Hsi Jen, without the least +hesitation, "and I slipped on the snow and fell, while the cup dropped +from my hand and broke. Your decision to send her away is good," she +went on to advise Pao-yue, "and we are all willing to go also; and why +not avail yourself of this opportunity to dismiss us in a body? It will +be for our good, and you too on the other hand, needn't perplex yourself +about not getting better people to come and wait on you!" + +When Pao-yue heard this taunt, he had at length not a word to say, and +supported by Hsi Jen and the other attendants on to the couch, they +divested him of his clothes. But they failed to understand the drift of +what Pao-yue kept on still muttering, and all they could make out was an +endless string of words; but his eyes grew heavier and drowsier, and +they forthwith waited upon him until he went to sleep; when Hsi Jen +unclasped the jade of spiritual perception, and rolling it up in a +handkerchief, she lay it under the mattress, with the idea that when he +put it on the next day it should not chill his neck. + +Pao-yue fell sound asleep the moment he lay his head on the pillow. By +this time nurse Li and the others had come in, but when they heard that +Pao-yue was tipsy, they too did not venture to approach, but gently made +inquiries as to whether he was asleep or not. On hearing that he was, +they took their departure with their minds more at ease. + +The next morning the moment Pao-yue awoke, some one came in to tell him +that young Mr. Jung, living in the mansion on the other side, had +brought Ch'in Chung to pay him a visit. + +Pao-yue speedily went out to greet them and to take them over to pay +their respects to dowager lady Chia. Her venerable ladyship upon +perceiving that Ch'in Chung, with his handsome countenance, and his +refined manners, would be a fit companion for Pao-yue in his studies, +felt extremely delighted at heart; and having readily detained him to +tea, and kept him to dinner, she went further and directed a servant to +escort him to see madame Wang and the rest of the family. + +With the fond regard of the whole household for Mrs. Ch'in, they were, +when they saw what a kind of person Ch'in Chung was, so enchanted with +him, that at the time of his departure, they all had presents to give +him; even dowager lady Chia herself presented him with a purse and a +golden image of the God of Learning, with a view that it should incite +him to study and harmony. + +"Your house," she further advised him, "is far off, and when it's cold +or hot, it would be inconvenient for you to come all that way, so you +had better come and live over here with me. You'll then be always with +your cousin Pao-yue, and you won't be together, in your studies, with +those fellow-pupils of yours who have no idea what progress means." + +Ch'in Chung made a suitable answer to each one of her remarks, and on +his return home he told everything to his father. + +His father, Ch'in Pang-yeh, held at present the post of Secretary in the +Peking Field Force, and was well-nigh seventy. His wife had died at an +early period, and as she left no issue, he adopted a son and a daughter +from a foundling asylum. + +But who would have thought it, the boy also died, and there only +remained the girl, known as Ko Ch'ing in her infancy, who when she grew +up, was beautiful in face and graceful in manners, and who by reason of +some relationship with the Chia family, was consequently united by the +ties of marriage (to one of the household). + +Ch'in Pang-yeh was in his fiftieth year when he at length got this son. +As his tutor had the previous year left to go south, he remained at home +keeping up his former lessons; and (his father) had been just thinking +of talking over the matter with his relatives of the Chia family, and +sending his son to the private school, when, as luck would have it, this +opportunity of meeting Pao-yue presented itself. + +Knowing besides that the family school was under the direction of the +venerable scholar Chia Tai-ju, and hoping that by joining his class, +(his son) might advance in knowledge and by these means reap reputation, +he was therefore intensely gratified. The only drawbacks were that his +official emoluments were scanty, and that both the eyes of everyone in +the other establishment were set upon riches and honours, so that he +could not contribute anything short of the amount (given by others); but +his son's welfare throughout life was a serious consideration, and he, +needless to say, had to scrape together from the East and to collect +from the West; and making a parcel, with all deference, of twenty-four +taels for an introduction present, he came along with Ch'in Chung to +Tai-ju's house to pay their respects. But he had to wait subsequently +until Pao-yue could fix on an auspicious date on which they could +together enter the school. + +As for what happened after they came to school, the next chapter will +divulge. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + Chia Cheng gives good advice to his wayward son. + Li Kuei receives a reprimand. + Chia Jui and Li Kuei rebuke the obstinate youths! + Ming Yen causes trouble in the school-room. + + +But to return to our story. Mr. Ch'in, the father, and Ch'in Chung, his +son, only waited until the receipt, by the hands of a servant, of a +letter from the Chia family about the date on which they were to go to +school. Indeed, Pao-yue was only too impatient that he and Ch'in Chung +should come together, and, without loss of time, he fixed upon two days +later as the day upon which they were definitely to begin their studies, +and he despatched a servant with a letter to this effect. + +On the day appointed, as soon as it was daylight, Pao-yue turned out of +bed. Hsi Jen had already by that time got books, pencils and all writing +necessaries in perfect readiness, and was sitting on the edge of the bed +in a moping mood; but as soon as she saw Pao-yue approach, she was +constrained to wait upon him in his toilette and ablutions. + +Pao-yue, noticing how despondent she was, made it a point to address her. +"My dear sister," he said, "how is it you aren't again yourself? Is it +likely that you bear me a grudge for being about to go to school, +because when I leave you, you'll all feel dull?" + +Hsi Jen smiled. "What an ideal" she replied. "Study is a most excellent +thing, and without it a whole lifetime is a mere waste, and what good +comes in the long run? There's only one thing, which is simply that when +engaged in reading your books, you should set your mind on your books; +and that you should think of home when not engaged in reading. Whatever +you do, don't romp together with them, for were you to meet our master, +your father, it will be no joke! Although it's asserted that a scholar +must strain every nerve to excel, yet it's preferable that the tasks +should be somewhat fewer, as, in the first place, when one eats too +much, one cannot digest it; and, in the second place, good health must +also be carefully attended to. This is my view on the subject, and you +should at all times consider it in practice." + +While Hsi Jen gave utterance to a sentence, Pao-yue nodded his head in +sign of approval of that sentence. Hsi Jen then went on to speak. "I've +also packed up," she continued, "your long pelisse, and handed it to the +pages to take it over; so mind, when it's cold in the school-room, +please remember to put on this extra clothing, for it's not like home, +where you have people to look after you. The foot-stove and hand-stove, +I've also sent over; and urge that pack of lazy-bones to attend to their +work, for if you say nothing, they will be so engrossed in their +frolics, that they'll be loth to move, and let you, all for nothing, +take a chill and ruin your constitution." + +"Compose your mind," replied Pao-yue; "when I go out, I know well enough +how to attend to everything my own self. But you people shouldn't remain +in this room, and mope yourselves to death; and it would be well if you +would often go over to cousin Lin's for a romp." + +While saying this, he had completed his toilette, and Hsi Jen pressed +him to go and wish good morning to dowager lady Chia, Chia Cheng, madame +Wang, and the other members of the family. + +Pao-yue, after having gone on to give a few orders to Ch'ing Wen and She +Yueh, at length left his apartments, and coming over, paid his obeisance +to dowager lady Chia. Her venerable Ladyship had likewise, as a matter +of course, a few recommendations to make to him, which ended, he next +went and greeted madame Wang; and leaving again her quarters, he came +into the library to wish Chia Cheng good morning. + +As it happened, Chia Cheng had on this day returned home at an early +hour, and was, at this moment, in the library, engaged in a friendly +chat with a few gentlemen, who were family companions. Suddenly +perceiving Pao-yue come in to pay his respects, and report that he was +about to go to school, Chia Cheng gave a sardonic smile. "If you do +again," he remarked, "make allusions to the words going to school, +you'll make even me blush to death with shame! My advice to you is that +you should after all go your own way and play; that's the best thing for +you; and mind you don't pollute with dirt this floor by standing here, +and soil this door of mine by leaning against it!" + +The family companions stood up and smilingly expostulated. + +"Venerable Sir," they pleaded, "why need you be so down upon him? Our +worthy brother is this day going to school, and may in two or three +years be able to display his abilities and establish his reputation. He +will, beyond doubt, not behave like a child, as he did in years gone +past. But as the time for breakfast is also drawing nigh, you should, +worthy brother, go at once." + +When these words had been spoken, two among them, who were advanced in +years, readily took Pao-yue by the hand, and led him out of the library. + +"Who are in attendance upon Pao-yue?" Chia Cheng having inquired, he +heard a suitable reply, "We, Sir!" given from outside; and three or four +sturdy fellows entered at an early period and fell on one knee, and +bowed and paid their obeisance. + +When Chia Cheng came to scrutinise who they were, and he recognised Li +Kuei, the son of Pao-yue's nurse, he addressed himself to him. "You +people," he said, "remain waiting upon him the whole day long at school, +but what books has he after all read? Books indeed! why, he has read and +filled his brains with a lot of trashy words and nonsensical phrases, +and learnt some ingenious way of waywardness. Wait till I have a little +leisure, and I'll set to work, first and foremost, and flay your skin +off, and then settle accounts with that good-for-nothing!" + +This threat so terrified Li Kuei that he hastily fell on both his knees, +pulled off his hat, knocked his head on the ground, and gave vent to +repeated assenting utterances: "Oh, quite so, Sir! Our elder brother Mr. +Pao has," he continued, "already read up to the third book of the Book +of Odes, up to where there's something or other like: 'Yiu, Yiu, the +deer bleat; the lotus leaves and duckweed.' Your servant wouldn't +presume to tell a lie!" + +As he said this, the whole company burst out into a boisterous fit of +laughter, and Chia Cheng himself could not also contain his countenance +and had to laugh. "Were he even," he observed, "to read thirty books of +the Book of Odes, it would be as much an imposition upon people and no +more, as (when the thief) who, in order to steal the bell, stops up his +own ears! You go and present my compliments to the gentleman in the +schoolroom, and tell him, from my part, that the whole lot of Odes and +old writings are of no use, as they are subjects for empty show; and +that he should, above all things, take the Four Books, and explain them +to him, from first to last, and make him know them all thoroughly by +heart,--that this is the most important thing!" + +Li Kuei signified his obedience with all promptitude, and perceiving +that Chia Cheng had nothing more to say, he retired out of the room. + +During this while, Pao-yue had been standing all alone outside in the +court, waiting quietly with suppressed voice, and when they came out he +at once walked away in their company. + +Li Kuei and his companions observed as they shook their clothes, "Did +you, worthy brother, hear what he said that he would first of all flay +our skins off! People's servants acquire some respectability from the +master whom they serve, but we poor fellows fruitlessly wait upon you, +and are beaten and blown up in the bargain. It would be well if we were, +from henceforward, to be treated with a certain amount of regard." + +Pao-yue smiled, "Dear Brother," he added, "don't feel aggrieved; I'll +invite you to come round to-morrow!" + +"My young ancestor," replied Li Kuei, "who presumes to look forward to +an invitation? all I entreat you is to listen to one or two words I have +to say, that's all." + +As they talked they came over once more to dowager lady Chia's on this +side. + +Ch'in Chung had already arrived, and the old lady was first having a +chat with him. Forthwith the two of them exchanged salutations, and took +leave of her ladyship; but Pao-yue, suddenly remembering that he had not +said good-bye to Tai-yue, promptly betook himself again to Tai-yue's +quarters to do so. + +Tai-yue was, at this time, below the window, facing the mirror, and +adjusting her toilette. Upon hearing Pao-yue mention that he was on his +way to school, she smiled and remarked, "That's right! you're now going +to school and you'll be sure to reach the lunar palace and pluck the +olea fragrans; but I can't go along with you." + +"My dear cousin," rejoined Pao-yue, "wait for me to come out from school, +before you have your evening meal; wait also until I come to prepare the +cosmetic of rouge." + +After a protracted chat, he at length tore himself away and took his +departure. + +"How is it," interposed Tai-yue, as she once again called out to him and +stopped him, "that you don't go and bid farewell to your cousin Pao +Ch'ai?" + +Pao-yue smiled, and saying not a word by way of reply he straightway +walked to school, accompanied by Ch'in Chung. + +This public school, which it must be noticed was also not far from his +quarters, had been originally instituted by the founder of the +establishment, with the idea that should there be among the young +fellows of his clan any who had not the means to engage a tutor, they +should readily be able to enter this class for the prosecution of their +studies; that all those of the family who held official position should +all give (the institution) pecuniary assistance, with a view to meet the +expenses necessary for allowances to the students; and that they were to +select men advanced in years and possessed of virtue to act as tutors of +the family school. + +The two of them, Ch'in Chung and Pao-yue, had now entered the class, and +after they and the whole number of their schoolmates had made each +other's acquaintance, their studies were commenced. Ever since this +time, these two were wont to come together, go together, get up +together, and sit together, till they became more intimate and close. +Besides, dowager lady Chia got very fond of Ch'in Chung, and would again +and again keep him to stay with them for three and five days at a time, +treating him as if he were one of her own great-grandsons. Perceiving +that in Ch'in Chung's home there was not much in the way of sufficiency, +she also helped him in clothes and other necessaries; and scarcely had +one or two months elapsed before Ch'in Chung got on friendly terms with +every one in the Jung mansion. + +Pao-yue was, however, a human being who could not practise contentment +and observe propriety; and as his sole delight was to have every caprice +gratified, he naturally developed a craving disposition. "We two, you +and I, are," he was also wont secretly to tell Ch'in Chung, "of the same +age, and fellow-scholars besides, so that there's no need in the future +to pay any regard to our relationship of uncle and nephew; and we should +treat each other as brothers or friends, that's all." + +Ch'in Chung at first (explained that) he could not be so presumptuous; +but as Pao-yue would not listen to any such thing, but went on to address +him as brother and to call him by his style Ch'ing Ch'ing, he had +likewise himself no help, but to begin calling him, at random, anything +and anyhow. + +There were, it is true, a large number of pupils in this school, but +these consisted of the sons and younger brothers of that same clan, and +of several sons and nephews of family connections. The proverb +appositely describes that there are nine species of dragons, and that +each species differs; and it goes of course without saying that in a +large number of human beings there were dragons and snakes, confusedly +admixed, and that creatures of a low standing were included. + +Ever since the arrival of the two young fellows, Ch'in Chung and Pao-yue, +both of whom were in appearance as handsome as budding flowers, and +they, on the one hand, saw how modest and genial Ch'in Chung was, how he +blushed before he uttered a word, how he was timid and demure like a +girl, and on the other hand, how that Pao-yue was naturally proficient in +abasing and demeaning himself, how he was so affable and good-natured, +considerate in his temperament and so full of conversation, and how that +these two were, in consequence, on such terms of intimate friendship, it +was, in fact, no matter of surprise that the whole company of +fellow-students began to foster envious thoughts, that they, behind +their backs, passed on their account, this one one disparaging remark +and that one another, and that they insinuated slanderous lies against +them, which extended inside as well as outside the school-room. + +Indeed, after Hsueeh P'an had come over to take up his quarters in madame +Wang's suite of apartments, he shortly came to hear of the existence of +a family school, and that this school was mainly attended by young +fellows of tender years, and inordinate ideas were suddenly aroused in +him. While he therefore fictitiously gave out that he went to school, +[he was as irregular in his attendance as the fisherman] who catches +fish for three days, and suns his nets for the next two; simply +presenting his school-fee gift to Chia Tai-jui and making not the least +progress in his studies; his sole dream being to knit a number of +familiar friendships. Who would have thought it, there were in this +school young pupils, who, in their greed to obtain money, clothes and +eatables from Hsueeh P'an, allowed themselves to be cajoled by him, and +played tricks upon; but on this topic, it is likewise superfluous to +dilate at any length. + +There were also two lovable young scholars, relatives of what branch of +the family is not known, and whose real surnames and names have also not +been ascertained, who, by reason of their good and winsome looks, were, +by the pupils in the whole class, given two nicknames, to one that of +"Hsiang Lin," "Fragrant Love," and to the other "Yue Ai," "Precious +Affection." But although every one entertained feelings of secret +admiration for them, and had the wish to take liberties with the young +fellows, they lived, nevertheless, one and all, in such terror of Hsueeh +P'an's imperious influence, that they had not the courage to come +forward and interfere with them. + +As soon as Ch'in Chung and Pao-yue had, at this time, come to school, and +they had made the acquaintance of these two fellow-pupils, they too +could not help becoming attached to them and admiring them, but as they +also came to know that they were great friends of Hsueeh P'an, they did +not, in consequence, venture to treat them lightly, or to be unseemly in +their behaviour towards them. Hsiang Lin and Yue Ai both kept to +themselves the same feelings, which they fostered for Ch'in Chung and +Pao-yue, and to this reason is to be assigned the fact that though these +four persons nurtured fond thoughts in their hearts there was however no +visible sign of them. Day after day, each one of them would, during +school hours, sit in four distinct places: but their eight eyes were +secretly linked together; and, while indulging either in innuendoes or +in double entendres, their hearts, in spite of the distance between +them, reflected the whole number of their thoughts. + +But though their outward attempts were devoted to evade the detection of +other people's eyes, it happened again that, while least expected, +several sly lads discovered the real state of affairs, with the result +that the whole school stealthily frowned their eyebrows at them, winked +their eyes at them, or coughed at them, or raised their voices at them; +and these proceedings were, in fact, not restricted to one single day. + +As luck would have it, on this day Tai-jui was, on account of business, +compelled to go home; and having left them as a task no more than a +heptameter line for an antithetical couplet, explaining that they should +find a sentence to rhyme, and that the following day when he came back, +he would set them their lessons, he went on to hand the affairs +connected with the class to his elder grandson, Chia Jui, whom he asked +to take charge. + +Wonderful to say Hsueeh P'an had of late not frequented school very +often, not even so much as to answer the roll, so that Ch'in Chung +availed himself of his absence to ogle and smirk with Hsiang Lin; and +these two pretending that they had to go out, came into the back court +for a chat. + +"Does your worthy father at home mind your having any friends?" Ch'in +Chung was the first to ask. But this sentence was scarcely ended, when +they heard a sound of coughing coming from behind. Both were taken much +aback, and, speedily turning their heads round to see, they found that +it was a fellow-scholar of theirs, called Chin Jung. + +Hsiang Lin was naturally of somewhat hasty temperament, so that with +shame and anger mutually impelling each other, he inquired of him, +"What's there to cough at? Is it likely you wouldn't have us speak to +each other?" + +"I don't mind your speaking," Chin Jung observed laughing; "but would +you perchance not have me cough? I'll tell you what, however; if you +have anything to say, why not utter it in intelligible language? Were +you allowed to go on in this mysterious manner, what strange doings +would you be up to? But I have sure enough found you out, so what's the +need of still prevaricating? But if you will, first of all, let me +partake of a share in your little game, you and I can hold our tongue +and utter not a word. If not, why the whole school will begin to turn +the matter over." + +At these words, Ch'in Chung and Hsiang Lin were so exasperated that +their blood rushed up to their faces. "What have you found out?" they +hastily asked. + +"What I have now detected," replied Chin Jung smiling, "is the plain +truth!" and saying this he went on to clap his hands and to call out +with a loud voice as he laughed: "They have moulded some nice well-baked +cakes, won't you fellows come and buy one to eat!" (These two have been +up to larks, won't you come and have some fun!) + +Both Ch'in Chung and Hsiang Lin felt resentful as well as fuming with +rage, and with hurried step they went in, in search of Chia Jui, to whom +they reported Chin Jung, explaining that Chin Jung had insulted them +both, without any rhyme or reason. + +The fact is that this Chia Jui was, in an extraordinary degree, a man +with an eye to the main chance, and devoid of any sense of propriety. +His wont was at school to take advantage of public matters to serve his +private interest, and to bring pressure upon his pupils with the intent +that they should regale him. While subsequently he also lent his +countenance to Hsueeh P'an, scheming to get some money or eatables out of +him, he left him entirely free to indulge in disorderly behaviour; and +not only did he not go out of his way to hold him in check, but, on the +contrary, he encouraged him, infamous though he was already, to become a +bully, so as to curry favour with him. + +But this Hsueeh P'an was, by nature, gifted with a fickle disposition; +to-day, he would incline to the east, and to-morrow to the west, so that +having recently obtained new friends, he put Hsiang Lin and Yue Ai aside. +Chin Jung too was at one time an intimate friend of his, but ever since +he had acquired the friendship of the two lads, Hsiang Lin and Yue Ai, he +forthwith deposed Chin Jung. Of late, he had already come to look down +upon even Hsiang Lin and Yue Ai, with the result that Chia Jui as well +was deprived of those who could lend him support, or stand by him; but +he bore Hsueeh P'an no grudge, for wearying with old friends, as soon as +he found new ones, but felt angry that Hsiang Lin and Yue Ai had not put +in a word on his behalf with Hsueeh P'an. Chia Jui, Chin Jung and in fact +the whole crowd of them were, for this reason, just harbouring a jealous +grudge against these two, so that when he saw Ch'in Chung and Hsiang Lin +come on this occasion and lodge a complaint against Chin Jung, Chia Jui +readily felt displeasure creep into his heart; and, although he did not +venture to call Ch'in Chung to account, he nevertheless made an example +of Hsiang Lin. And instead (of taking his part), he called him a +busybody and denounced him in much abusive language, with the result +that Hsiang Lin did not, contrariwise, profit in any way, but brought +displeasure upon himself. Even Ch'in Chung grumbled against the +treatment, as each of them resumed their places. + +Chin Jung became still more haughty, and wagging his head and smacking +his lips, he gave vent to many more abusive epithets; but as it happened +that they also reached Yue Ai's ears, the two of them, though seated +apart, began an altercation in a loud tone of voice. + +Chin Jung, with obstinate pertinacity, clung to his version. "Just a +short while back," he said, "I actually came upon them, as they were +indulging in demonstrations of intimate friendship in the back court. +These two had resolved to be one in close friendship, and were eloquent +in their protestations, mindful only in persistently talking their +trash, but they were not aware of the presence of another person." + +But his language had, contrary to all expectations, given, from the very +first, umbrage to another person, and who do you, (gentle reader,) +imagine this person to have been? + +This person was, in fact, one whose name was Chia Se; a grandson +likewise of a main branch of the Ning mansion. His parents had died at +an early period, and he had, ever since his youth, lived with Chia Chen. +He had at this time grown to be sixteen years of age, and was, as +compared with Chia Jung, still more handsome and good looking. These two +cousins were united by ties of the closest intimacy, and were always +together, whether they went out or stayed at home. + +The inmates of the Ning mansion were many in number, and their opinions +of a mixed kind; and that whole bevy of servants, devoid as they were of +all sense of right, solely excelled in the practice of inventing stories +to backbite their masters; and this is how some mean person or other +again, who it was is not known, insinuated slanderous and opprobrious +reports (against Chia Se). Chia Chen had, presumably, also come to hear +some unfavourable criticisms (on his account), and having, of course, to +save himself from odium and suspicion, he had, at this juncture, after +all, to apportion him separate quarters, and to bid Chia Se move outside +the Ning mansion, where he went and established a home of his own to +live in. + +This Chia Se was handsome as far as external appearances went, and +intelligent withal in his inward natural gifts, but, though he nominally +came to school, it was simply however as a mere blind; for he treated, +as he had ever done, as legitimate occupations, such things as cock +fighting, dog-racing and visiting places of easy virtue. And as, above, +he had Chia Chen to spoil him by over-indulgence; and below, there was +Chia Jung to stand by him, who of the clan could consequently presume to +run counter to him? + +Seeing that he was on the closest terms of friendship with Chia Jung, +how could he reconcile himself to the harsh treatment which he now saw +Ch'in Chung receive from some persons? Being now bent upon pushing +himself forward to revenge the injustice, he was, for the time, giving +himself up to communing with his own heart. "Chin Jung, Chia Jui and the +rest are," he pondered, "friends of uncle Hsueeh, but I too am on +friendly terms with him, and he with me, and if I do come forward and +they tell old Hsueeh, won't we impair the harmony which exists between +us? and if I don't concern myself, such idle tales make, when spoken, +every one feel uncomfortable; and why shouldn't I now devise some means +to hold them in check, so as to stop their mouths, and prevent any loss +of face!" + +Having concluded this train of thought, he also pretended that he had to +go out, and, walking as far as the back, he, with low voice, called to +his side Ming Yen, the page attending upon Pao-yue in his studies, and in +one way and another, he made use of several remarks to egg him on. + +This Ming Yen was the smartest of Pao-yue's attendants, but he was also +young in years and lacked experience, so that he lent a patient ear to +what Chia Se had to say about the way Chin Jung had insulted Ch'in +Chung. "Even your own master, Pao-yue," (Chia Se added), "is involved, +and if you don't let him know a bit of your mind, he will next time be +still more arrogant." + +This Ming Yen was always ready, even with no valid excuse, to be +insolent and overbearing to people, so that after hearing the news and +being furthermore instigated by Chia Se, he speedily rushed into the +schoolroom and cried out "Chin Jung;" nor did he address him as Mr. +Chin, but merely shouted "What kind of fellow is this called Chin?" + +Chia Se presently shuffled his feet, while he designedly adjusted his +dress and looked at the rays of the sun. "It's time," he observed and +walking forthwith, first up to Chia Jui, he explained to him that he had +something to attend to and would like to get away a little early; and as +Chia Jui did not venture to stop him, he had no alternative but to let +him have his way and go. + +During this while, Ming Yen had entered the room and promptly seizing +Chin Jung in a grip: "What we do, whether proper or improper," he said, +"doesn't concern you! It's enough anyway that we don't defile your +father! A fine brat you are indeed, to come out and meddle with your Mr. +Ming!" + +These words plunged the scholars of the whole class in such +consternation that they all wistfully and absently looked at him. + +"Ming Yen," hastily shouted out Chia Jui, "you're not to kick up a +rumpus." + +Chin Jung was so full of anger that his face was quite yellow. "What a +subversion of propriety! a slave and a menial to venture to behave in +this manner! I'll just simply speak to your master," he exclaimed as he +readily pushed his hands off and was about to go and lay hold of Pao-yue +to beat him. + +Ch'in Chung was on the point of turning round to leave the room, when +with a sound of 'whiff' which reached him from behind, he at once caught +sight of a square inkslab come flying that way. Who had thrown it he +could not say, but it struck the desk where Chia Lan and Chia Chuen were +seated. + +These two, Chia Lan and Chia Chuen, were also the great-grandsons of a +close branch of the Jung mansion. This Chia Chuen had been left +fatherless at an early age, and his mother doated upon him in an unusual +manner, and it was because at school he was on most friendly terms with +Chia Lan, that these two sat together at the same desk. Who would have +believed that Chia Chuen would, in spite of being young in years, have +had an extremely strong mind, and that he would be mostly up to mischief +without the least fear of any one. He watched with listless eye from his +seat Chin Jung's friends stealthily assist Chin Jung, as they flung an +inkslab to strike Ming Yen, but when, as luck would have it, it hit the +wrong mark, and fell just in front of him, smashing to atoms the +porcelain inkslab and water bottle, and smudging his whole book with +ink, Chia Chuen was, of course, much incensed, and hastily gave way to +abuse. "You consummate pugnacious criminal rowdies! why, doesn't this +amount to all of you taking a share in the fight!" And as he uttered +this abuse, he too forthwith seized an inkslab, which he was bent upon +flinging. + +Chia Lan was one who always tried to avoid trouble, so that he lost no +time in pressing down the inkslab, while with all the words his mouth +could express, he tried to pacify him, adding "My dear brother, it's no +business of yours and mine." + +Chia Chuen could not repress his resentment; and perceiving that the +inkslab was held down, he at once laid hold of a box containing books, +which he flung in this direction; but being, after all, short of +stature, and weak of strength, he was unable to send it anywhere near +the mark; so that it dropped instead when it got as far as the desk +belonging to Pao-yue and Ch'in Chung, while a dreadful crash became +audible as it fell smash on the table. The books, papers, pencils, +inkslabs, and other writing materials were all scattered over the whole +table; and Pao-yue's cup besides containing tea was itself broken to +pieces and the tea spilt. + +Chia Chuen forthwith jumped forward with the intent of assailing the +person who had flung the inkslab at the very moment that Chin Jung took +hold of a long bamboo pole which was near by; but as the space was +limited, and the pupils many, how could he very well brandish a long +stick? Ming Yen at an early period received a whack, and he shouted +wildly, "Don't you fellows yet come to start a fight." + +Pao-yue had, besides, along with him several pages, one of whom was +called Sao Hung, another Ch'u Yo, another Mo Yue. These three were +naturally up to every mischief, so that with one voice, bawling +boisterously, "You children of doubtful mothers, have you taken up +arms?" Mo Yue promptly took up the bar of a door; while Sao Hung and Ch'u +Yo both laid hold of horsewhips, and they all rushed forward like a hive +of bees. + +Chia Jui was driven to a state of exasperation; now he kept this one in +check, and the next moment he reasoned with another, but who would +listen to his words? They followed the bent of their inclinations and +stirred up a serious disturbance. + +Of the whole company of wayward young fellows, some there were who gave +sly blows for fun's sake; others there were who were not gifted with +much pluck and hid themselves on one side; there were those too who +stood on the tables, clapping their hands and laughing immoderately, +shouting out: "Go at it." + +The row was, at this stage, like water bubbling over in a cauldron, when +several elderly servants, like Li Kuei and others, who stood outside, +heard the uproar commence inside, and one and all came in with all haste +and united in their efforts to pacify them. Upon asking "What's the +matter?" the whole bevy of voices shouted out different versions; this +one giving this account, while another again another story. But Li Kuei +temporised by rebuking Ming Yen and others, four in all, and packing +them off. + +Ch'in Chung's head had, at an early period, come into contact with Chin +Jung's pole and had had the skin grazed off. Pao-yue was in the act of +rubbing it for him, with the overlap of his coat, but realising that the +whole lot of them had been hushed up, he forthwith bade Li Kuei collect +his books. + +"Bring my horse round," he cried; "I'm going to tell Mr. Chia Tai-ju +that we have been insulted. I won't venture to tell him anything else, +but (tell him I will) that having come with all propriety and made our +report to Mr. Chia Jui, Mr. Chia Jui instead (of helping us) threw the +fault upon our shoulders. That while he heard people abuse us, he went +so far as to instigate them to beat us; that Ming Yen seeing others +insult us, did naturally take our part; but that they, instead (of +desisting,) combined together and struck Ming Yen and even broke open +Ch'in Chung's head. And that how is it possible for us to continue our +studies in here?" + +"My dear sir," replied Li Kuei coaxingly, "don't be so impatient! As Mr. +Chia Tai-ju has had something to attend to and gone home, were you now, +for a trifle like this, to go and disturb that aged gentleman, it will +make us, indeed, appear as if we had no sense of propriety: my idea is +that wherever a thing takes place, there should it be settled; and +what's the need of going and troubling an old man like him. This is all +you, Mr. Chia Jui, who is to blame; for in the absence of Mr. Chia +Tai-ju, you, sir, are the head in this school, and every one looks to +you to take action. Had all the pupils been at fault, those who deserved +a beating should have been beaten, and those who merited punishment +should have been punished! and why did you wait until things came to +such a pass, and didn't even exercise any check?" + +"I blew them up," pleaded Chia Jui, "but not one of them would listen." + +"I'll speak out, whether you, worthy sir, resent what I'm going to say +or not," ventured Li Kuei. "It's you, sir, who all along have after all +had considerable blame attached to your name; that's why all these young +men wouldn't hear you! Now if this affair is bruited, until it reaches +Mr. Chia Tai-ju's ears, why even you, sir, will not be able to escape +condemnation; and why don't you at once make up your mind to disentangle +the ravelled mess and dispel all trouble and have done with it!" + +"Disentangle what?" inquired Pao-yue; "I shall certainly go and make my +report." + +"If Chin Jung stays here," interposed Ch'in Chung sobbing, "I mean to go +back home." + +"Why that?" asked Pao-yue. "Is it likely that others can safely come and +that you and I can't? I feel it my bounden duty to tell every one +everything at home so as to expel Chin Jung. This Chin Jung," he went on +to inquire as he turned towards Lei Kuei, "is the relative or friend of +what branch of the family?" + +Li Kuei gave way to reflection and then said by way of reply: "There's +no need whatever for you to raise this question; for were you to go and +report the matter to the branch of the family to which he belongs, the +harmony which should exist between cousins will be still more impaired." + +"He's the nephew of Mrs. Huang, of the Eastern mansion," interposed Ming +Yen from outside the window. "What a determined and self-confident +fellow he must be to even come and bully us; Mrs. Huang is his paternal +aunt! That mother of yours is only good for tossing about like a +millstone, for kneeling before our lady Lien, and begging for something +to pawn. I've no eye for such a specimen of mistress." + +"What!" speedily shouted Li Kuei, "does this son of a dog happen to know +of the existence of all these gnawing maggots?" (these disparaging +facts). + +Pao-yue gave a sardonic smile. "I was wondering whose relative he was," +he remarked; "is he really sister-in-law Huang's nephew? well, I'll go +at once and speak to her." + +As he uttered these words, his purpose was to start there and then, and +he called Ming Yen in, to come and pack up his books. Ming Yen walked in +and put the books away. "Master," he went on to suggest, in an exultant +manner, "there's no need for you to go yourself to see her; I'll go to +her house and tell her that our old lady has something to ask of her. I +can hire a carriage to bring her over, and then, in the presence of her +venerable ladyship, she can be spoken to; and won't this way save a lot +of trouble?" + +"Do you want to die?" speedily shouted Li Kuei; "mind, when you go back, +whether right or wrong, I'll first give you a good bumping, and then go +and report you to our master and mistress, and just tell them that it's +you, and only you, who instigated Mr. Pao-yue! I've succeeded, after ever +so much trouble, in coaxing them, and mending matters to a certain +extent, and now you come again to continue a new plan. It's you who +stirred up this row in the school-room; and not to speak of your +finding, as would have been the proper course, some way of suppressing +it, there you are instead still jumping into the fire." + +Ming Yen, at this juncture, could not muster the courage to utter a +sound. By this time Chia Jui had also apprehended that if the row came +to be beyond clearing up, he himself would likewise not be clear of +blame, so that circumstances compelled him to pocket his grievances and +to come and entreat Ch'in Chung as well as to make apologies to Pao-yue. +These two young fellows would not at first listen to his advances, but +Pao-yue at length explained that he would not go and report the +occurrence, provided only Chin Jung admitted his being in the wrong. +Chin Jung refused, at the outset, to agree to this, but he ultimately +could find no way out of it, as Chia Jui himself urged him to make some +temporising apology. + +Li Kuei and the others felt compelled to tender Chin Jung some good +advice: "It's you," they said, "who have given rise to the disturbance, +and if you don't act in this manner, how will the matter ever be brought +to an end?" so that Chin Jung found it difficult to persist in his +obstinacy, and was constrained to make a bow to Ch'in Chung. + +Pao-yue was, however, not yet satisfied, but would insist upon his +knocking his head on the ground, and Chia Jui, whose sole aim was to +temporarily smother the affair, quietly again urged Chin Jung, adding +that the proverb has it: "That if you keep down the anger of a minute, +you will for a whole life-time feel no remorse." + +Whether Chin Jung complied or not to his advice is not known, but the +following chapter will explain. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + Widow Chin, prompted by a desire to reap advantage, puts up + temporarily with an insult. + Dr. Chang in discussing Mrs. Chin's illness minutely exhausts its + origin. + + +We will now resume our story. As the persons against Chin Jung were so +many and their pressure so great, and as, what was more, Chia Jui urged +him to make amends, he had to knock his head on the ground before Ch'in +Chung. Pao-yue then gave up his clamorous remonstrances and the whole +crowd dispersed from school. + +Chin Jung himself returned home all alone, but the more he pondered on +the occurrence, the more incensed he felt. "Ch'in Chung," he argued, "is +simply Chia Jung's young brother-in-law, and is no son or grandson of +the Chia family, and he too joins the class and prosecutes his studies +on no other footing than that of mine; but it's because he relies upon +Pao-yue's friendship for him that he has no eye for any one. This being +the case, he should be somewhat proper in his behaviour, and there would +be then not a word to say about it! He has besides all along been very +mystical with Pao-yue, imagining that we are all blind, and have no eyes +to see what's up! Here he goes again to-day and mixes with people in +illicit intrigues; and it's all because they happened to obtrude +themselves before my very eyes that this rumpus has broken out; but of +what need I fear?" + +His mother, nee Hu, hearing him mutter; "Why meddle again," she +explained, "in things that don't concern you? I had endless trouble in +getting to speak to your paternal aunt; and your aunt had, on the other +hand, a thousand and one ways and means to devise, before she could +appeal to lady Secunda, of the Western mansion; and then only it was +that you got this place to study in. Had we not others to depend upon +for your studies, would we have in our house the means sufficient to +engage a teacher? Besides, in other people's school, tea and eatables +are all ready and found; and these two years that you've been there for +your lessons, we've likewise effected at home a great saving in what +would otherwise have been necessary for your eating and use. Something +has been, it's true, economised; but you have further a liking for spick +and span clothes. Besides, it's only through your being there to study, +that you've come to know Mr. Hsueeh! that Mr. Hsueeh, who has even in one +year given us so much pecuniary assistance as seventy and eighty taels! +And now you would go and raise a row in this school-room! why, if we +were bent upon finding such another place, I tell you plainly, and once +for all, that we would find it more difficult than if we tried to scale +the heavens! Now do quietly play for a while, and then go to sleep, and +you'll be ever so much better for it then." + +Chin Jung thereupon stifled his anger and held his tongue; and, after a +short while, he in fact went to sleep of his own accord. + +The next day he again went to school, and no further comment need be +made about it; but we will go on to explain that a young lady related to +her had at one time been given in marriage to a descendant (of the +eldest branch) of the Chia family, (whose names were written) with the +jade radical, Chia Huang by name; but how could the whole number of +members of the clan equal in affluence and power the two mansions of +Ning and Jung? This fact goes, as a matter of course, without saying. +The Chia Huang couple enjoyed some small income; but they also went, on +frequent occasions, to the mansions of Ning and Jung to pay their +respects; and they knew likewise so well how to adulate lady Feng and +Mrs. Yu, that lady Feng and Mrs. Yu would often grant them that +assistance and support which afforded them the means of meeting their +daily expenses. + +It just occurred on this occasion that the weather was clear and fine, +and that there happened, on the other hand, to be nothing to attend to +at home, so forthwith taking along with her a matron, (Mrs. Chia Huang) +got into a carriage and came over to see widow Chin and her nephew. +While engaged in a chat, Chin Jung's mother accidentally broached the +subject of the affair, which had transpired in the school-room of the +Chia mansion on the previous day, and she gave, for the benefit of her +young sister-in-law, a detailed account of the whole occurrence from +beginning to end. + +This Mrs. Huang would not have had her temper ruffled had she not come +to hear what had happened; but having heard about it, anger sprung from +the very depths of her heart. "This fellow, Ch'in Chung," she exclaimed, +"is a relative of the Chia family, but is it likely that Jung Erh isn't, +in like manner, a relative of the Chia family; and when relatives are +many, there's no need to put on airs! Besides, does his conduct consist, +for the most part, of anything that would make one get any face? In +fact, Pao-yue himself shouldn't do injury to himself by condescending to +look at him. But, as things have come to this pass, give me time and +I'll go to the Eastern mansion and see our lady Chen and then have a +chat with Ch'in Chung's sister, and ask her to decide who's right and +who's wrong!" + +Chin Jung's mother upon hearing these words was terribly distressed. +"It's all through my hasty tongue," she observed with vehemence, "that +I've told you all, sister-in-law: but please, sister, give up at once +the idea of going over to say anything about it! Don't trouble yourself +as to who is in the right, and who is in the wrong; for were any +unpleasantness to come out of it, how could we here stand on our legs? +and were we not to stand on our legs, not only would we never be able to +engage a tutor, but the result will be, on the contrary, that for his +own person will be superadded many an expense for eatables and +necessaries." + +"What do I care about how many?" replied Mrs. Huang; "wait till I've +spoken about it, and we'll see what will be the result." Nor would she +accede to her sister-in-law's entreaties, but bidding, at the same time, +the matron look after the carriage, she got into it, and came over to +the Ning Mansion. + +On her arrival at the Ning Mansion, she entered by the eastern side +gate, and dismounting from the carriage, she went in to call on Mrs. Yu, +the spouse of Chia Chen, with whom she had not the courage to put on any +high airs; but gently and quietly she made inquiries after her health, +and after passing some irrelevant remarks, she ascertained: "How is it I +don't see lady Jung to-day?" + +"I don't know," replied Mrs. Yu, "what's the matter with her these last +few days; but she hasn't been herself for two months and more; and the +doctor who was asked to see her declares that it is nothing connected +with any happy event. A couple of days back, she felt, as soon as the +afternoon came, both to move, and both even to utter a word; while the +brightness of her eyes was all dimmed; and I told her, 'You needn't +stick to etiquette, for there's no use for you to come in the forenoon +and evening, as required by conventionalities; but what you must do is, +to look after your own health. Should any relative come over, there's +also myself to receive them; and should any of the senior generation +think your absence strange, I'll explain things for you, if you'll let +me.' + +"I also advised brother Jung on the subject: 'You shouldn't,' I said, +'allow any one to trouble her; nor let her be put out of temper, but let +her quietly attend to her health, and she'll get all right. Should she +fancy anything to eat, just come over here and fetch it; for, in the +event of anything happening to her, were you to try and find another +such a wife to wed, with such a face and such a disposition, why, I +fear, were you even to seek with a lantern in hand, there would really +be no place where you could discover her. And with such a temperament +and deportment as hers, which of our relatives and which of our elders +don't love her?' That's why my heart has been very distressed these two +days! As luck would have it early this morning her brother turned up to +see her, but who would have fancied him to be such a child, and so +ignorant of what is proper and not proper to do? He saw well enough that +his sister was not well; and what's more all these matters shouldn't +have been recounted to her; for even supposing he had received the +gravest offences imaginable, it behoved him anyhow not to have broached +the subject to her! Yesterday, one would scarcely believe it, a fight +occurred in the school-room, and some pupil or other who attends that +class, somehow insulted him; besides, in this business, there were a +good many indecent and improper utterances, but all these he went and +told his sister! Now, sister-in-law, you are well aware that though (our +son Jung's) wife talks and laughs when she sees people, that she is +nevertheless imaginative and withal too sensitive, so that no matter +what she hears, she's for the most part bound to brood over it for three +days and five nights, before she loses sight of it, and it's from this +excessive sensitiveness that this complaint of hers arises. Today, when +she heard that some one had insulted her brother, she felt both vexed +and angry; vexed that those fox-like, cur-like friends of his had moved +right and wrong, and intrigued with this one and deluded that one; angry +that her brother had, by not learning anything profitable, and not +having his mind set upon study, been the means of bringing about a row +at school; and on account of this affair, she was so upset that she did +not even have her early meal. I went over a short while back and +consoled her for a time, and likewise gave her brother a few words of +advice; and after having packed off that brother of hers to the mansion +on the other side, in search of Pao-yue, and having stood by and seen her +have half a bowl of birds' nests soup, I at length came over. Now, +sister-in-law, tell me, is my heart sore or not? Besides, as there's +nowadays no good doctor, the mere thought of her complaint makes my +heart feel as if it were actually pricked with needles! But do you and +yours, perchance, know of any good practitioner?" + +Mrs. Chin had, while listening to these words, been, at an early period, +so filled with concern that she cast away to distant lands the reckless +rage she had been in recently while at her sister-in-law's house, when +she had determined to go and discuss matters over with Mrs. Ch'in. Upon +hearing Mrs. Yu inquire of her about a good doctor, she lost no time in +saying by way of reply: "Neither have we heard of any one speak of a +good doctor; but from the account I've just heard of Mrs. Ch'in's +illness, it may still, there's no saying, be some felicitous ailment; +so, sister-in-law, don't let any one treat her recklessly, for were she +to be treated for the wrong thing, the result may be dreadful!" + +"Quite so!" replied Mrs. Yu. + +But while they were talking, Chia Chen came in from out of doors, and +upon catching sight of Mrs. Chin; "Isn't this Mrs. Huang?" he inquired +of Mrs. Yu; whereupon Mrs. Chin came forward and paid her respects to +Chia Chen. + +"Invite this lady to have her repast here before she goes," observed +Chia Chen to Mrs. Yu; and as he uttered these words he forthwith walked +into the room on the off side. + +The object of Mrs. Chin's present visit had originally been to talk to +Mrs. Ch'in about the insult which her brother had received from the +hands of Ch'in Chung, but when she heard that Mrs. Ch'in was ill, she +did not have the courage to even so much as make mention of the object +of her errand. Besides, as Chia Chen and Mrs. Yu had given her a most +cordial reception, her resentment was transformed into pleasure, so that +after a while spent in a further chat about one thing and another, she +at length returned to her home. + +It was only after the departure of Mrs. Chin that Chia Chen came over +and took a seat. "What did she have to say for herself during this visit +to-day?" he asked of Mrs. Yu. + +"She said nothing much," replied Mrs. Yu. "When she first entered the +room, her face bore somewhat of an angry look, but, after a lengthy chat +and as soon as mention of our son's wife's illness was made, this +angered look after all gradually abated. You also asked me to keep her +for the repast, but, having heard that our son's wife was so ill she +could not very well stay, so that all she did was to sit down, and after +making a few more irrelevant remarks, she took her departure. But she +had no request to make. To return however now to the illness of Jung's +wife, it's urgent that you should find somewhere a good doctor to +diagnose it for her; and whatever you do, you should lose no time. The +whole body of doctors who at present go in and out of our household, are +they worth having? Each one of them listens to what the patient has to +say of the ailment, and then, adding a string of flowery sentences, out +he comes with a long rigmarole; but they are exceedingly diligent in +paying us visits; and in one day, three or four of them are here at +least four and five times in rotation! They come and feel her pulse, +they hold consultation together, and write their prescriptions, but, +though she has taken their medicines, she has seen no improvement; on +the contrary, she's compelled to change her clothes three and five times +each day, and to sit up to see the doctor; a thing which, in fact, does +the patient no good." + +"This child too is somewhat simple," observed Chia Chen; "for what need +has she to be taking off her clothes, and changing them for others? And +were she again to catch a chill, she would add something more to her +illness; and won't it be dreadful! The clothes may be no matter how +fine, but what is their worth, after all? The health of our child is +what is important to look to! and were she even to wear out a suit of +new clothes a-day, what would that too amount to? I was about to tell +you that a short while back, Feng Tzu-ying came to see me, and, +perceiving that I had somewhat of a worried look, he asked me what was +up; and I told him that our son's wife was not well at all, that as we +couldn't get any good doctor, we couldn't determine with any certainty, +whether she was in an interesting condition, or whether she was +suffering from some disease; that as we could neither tell whether there +was any danger or not, my heart was, for this reason, really very much +distressed. Feng Tzu-ying then explained that he knew a young doctor who +had made a study of his profession, Chang by surname, and Yu-shih by +name, whose learning was profound to a degree; who was besides most +proficient in the principles of medicine, and had the knack of +discriminating whether a patient would live or die; that this year he +had come to the capital to purchase an official rank for his son, and +that he was now living with him in his house. In view of these +circumstances, not knowing but that if, perchance, the case of our +daughter-in-law were placed in his hands, he couldn't avert the danger, +I readily despatched a servant, with a card of mine, to invite him to +come; but the hour to-day being rather late, he probably won't be round, +but I believe he's sure to be here to-morrow. Besides, Feng-Tzu-ying was +also on his return home, to personally entreat him on my behalf, so that +he's bound, when he has asked him, to come and see her. Let's therefore +wait till Dr. Chang has been here and seen her, when we can talk matters +over!" + +Mrs. Yu was very much cheered when she heard what was said. "The day +after to-morrow," she felt obliged to add, "is again our senior's, Mr. +Chia Ching's birthday, and how are we to celebrate it after all?" + +"I've just been over to our Senior's and paid my respects," replied Chia +Chen, "and further invited the old gentleman to come home, and receive +the congratulations of the whole family. + +"'I'm accustomed,' our Senior explained, 'to peace and quiet, and have +no wish to go over to that worldly place of yours; for you people are +certain to have published that it's my birthday, and to entertain the +design to ask me to go round to receive the bows of the whole lot of +you. But won't it be better if you were to give the "Record of +Meritorious Acts," which I annotated some time ago, to some one to copy +out clean for me, and have it printed? Compared with asking me to come, +and uselessly receive the obeisances of you all, this will be yea even a +hundred times more profitable! In the event of the whole family wishing +to pay me a visit on any of the two days, to-morrow or the day after +to-morrow, if you were to stay at home and entertain them in proper +style, that will be all that is wanted; nor will there be any need to +send me anything! Even you needn't come two days from this; and should +you not feel contented at heart, well, you had better bow your head +before me to-day before you go. But if you do come again the day after +to-morrow, with a lot of people to disturb me, I shall certainly be +angry with you.' After what he said, I will not venture to go and see +him two days hence; but you had better send for Lai Sheng, and bid him +get ready a banquet to continue for a couple of days." + +Mrs. Yu, having asked Chia Jung to come round, told him to direct Lai +Sheng to make the usual necessary preparations for a banquet to last for +a couple of days, with due regard to a profuse and sumptuous style. + +"You go by-and-by," (she advised him), "in person to the Western Mansion +and invite dowager lady Chia, mesdames Hsing and Wang, and your +sister-in-law Secunda lady Lien to come over for a stroll. Your father +has also heard of a good doctor, and having already sent some one to ask +him round, I think that by to-morrow he's sure to come; and you had +better tell him, in a minute manner, the serious symptoms of her ailment +during these few days." + +Chia Jung having signified his obedience to each of her recommendations, +and taken his leave, was just in time to meet the youth coming back from +Feng Tzu-ying's house, whither he had gone a short while back to invite +the doctor round. + +"Your slave," he consequently reported, "has just been with a card of +master's to Mr. Feng's house and asked the doctor to come. 'The gentleman +here,' replied the doctor, 'has just told me about it; but to-day, I've +had to call on people the whole day, and I've only this moment come +home; and I feel now my strength (so worn out), that I couldn't really +stand any exertion. In fact were I even to get as far as the mansion, I +shouldn't be in a fit state to diagnose the pulses! I must therefore +have a night's rest, but, to-morrow for certain, I shall come to the +mansion. My medical knowledge,' he went on to observe, 'is very shallow, +and I don't deserve the honour of such eminent recommendation; but as +Mr. Feng has already thus spoken of me in your mansion, I can't but +present myself. It will be all right if in anticipation you deliver this +message for me to your honourable master; but as for your worthy +master's card, I cannot really presume to keep it.' It was again at his +instance that I've brought it back; but, Sir, please mention this result +for me (to master)." + +Chia Jung turned back again, and entering the house delivered the +message to Chia Chen and Mrs. Yu; whereupon he walked out, and, calling +Lai Sheng before him, he transmitted to him the orders to prepare the +banquet for a couple of days. + +After Lai Sheng had listened to the directions, he went off, of course, +to get ready the customary preparations; but upon these we shall not +dilate, but confine ourselves to the next day. + +At noon, a servant on duty at the gate announced that the Doctor Chang, +who had been sent for, had come, and Chia Chen conducted him along the +Court into the large reception Hall, where they sat down; and after they +had partaken of tea, he broached the subject. + +"Yesterday," he explained, "the estimable Mr. Feng did me the honour to +speak to me of your character and proficiency, venerable doctor, as well +as of your thorough knowledge of medicine, and I, your mean brother, was +filled with an immeasurable sense of admiration!" + +"Your Junior," remonstrated Dr. Chang, "is a coarse, despicable and mean +scholar and my knowledge is shallow and vile! but as worthy Mr. Feng did +me the honour yesterday of telling me that your family, sir, had +condescended to look upon me, a low scholar, and to favour me too with +an invitation, could I presume not to obey your commands? But as I +cannot boast of the least particle of real learning, I feel overburdened +with shame!" + +"Why need you be so modest?" observed Chia Chen; "Doctor, do please walk +in at once to see our son's wife, for I look up, with full reliance, to +your lofty intelligence to dispel my solicitude!" + +Chia Jung forthwith walked in with him. When they reached the inner +apartment, and he caught sight of Mrs. Ch'in, he turned round and asked +Chia Jung, "This is your honourable spouse, isn't it?" + +"Yes, it is," assented Chia Jung; "but please, Doctor, take a seat, and +let me tell you the symptoms of my humble wife's ailment, before her +pulse be felt. Will this do?" + +"My mean idea is," remarked the Doctor, "that it would, after all, be +better that I should begin by feeling her pulse, before I ask you to +inform me what the source of the ailment is. This is the first visit I +pay to your honourable mansion; besides, I possess no knowledge of +anything; but as our worthy Mr. Feng would insist upon my coming over to +see you, I had in consequence no alternative but to come. After I have +now made a diagnosis, you can judge whether what I say is right or not, +before you explain to me the phases of the complaint during the last few +days, and we can deliberate together upon some prescription; as to the +suitableness or unsuitableness of which your honourable father will then +have to decide, and what is necessary will have been done." + +"Doctor," rejoined Chia Jung, "you are indeed eminently clear sighted; +all I regret at present is that we have met so late! But please, Doctor, +diagnose the state of the pulse, so as to find out whether there be hope +of a cure or not; if a cure can be effected, it will be the means of +allaying the solicitude of my father and mother." + +The married women attached to that menage forthwith presented a pillow; +and as it was being put down for Mrs. Ch'in to rest her arm on, they +raised the lower part of her sleeve so as to leave her wrist exposed. +The Doctor thereupon put out his hand and pressed it on the pulse of the +right hand. Regulating his breath (to the pulsation) so as to be able to +count the beatings, he with due care and minuteness felt the action for +a considerable time, when, substituting the left hand, he again went +through the same operation. + +"Let us go and sit outside," he suggested, after he had concluded +feeling her pulses. Chia Jung readily adjourned, in company with the +Doctor, to the outer apartment, where they seated themselves on the +stove-couch. A matron having served tea; "Please take a cup of tea, +doctor," Chia Jung observed. When tea was over, "Judging," he inquired, +"Doctor, from the present action of the pulses, is there any remedy or +not?" + +"The action of the pulse, under the forefinger, on the left hand of your +honorable spouse," proceeded the Doctor, "is deep and agitated; the left +hand pulse, under the second finger, is deep and faint. The pulse, under +the forefinger, of the right hand, is gentle and lacks vitality. The +right hand pulse, under my second finger, is superficial, and has lost +all energy. The deep and agitated beating of the forepulse of the left +hand arises from the febrile state, due to the weak action of the heart. +The deep and delicate condition of the second part of the pulse of the +left wrist, emanates from the sluggishness of the liver, and the +scarcity of the blood in that organ. The action of the forefinger pulse, +of the right wrist, is faint and lacks strength, as the breathing of the +lungs is too weak. The second finger pulse of the right wrist is +superficial and devoid of vigour, as the spleen must be affected +injuriously by the liver. The weak action of the heart, and its febrile +state, should be the natural causes which conduce to the present +irregularity in the catamenia, and insomnia at night; the poverty of +blood in the liver, and the sluggish condition of that organ must +necessarily produce pain in the ribs; while the overdue of the +catamenia, the cardiac fever, and debility of the respiration of the +lungs, should occasion frequent giddiness in the head, and swimming of +the eyes, the certain recurrence of perspiration between the periods of +3 to 5 and 5 to 7, and the sensation of being seated on board ship. The +obstruction of the spleen by the liver should naturally create distaste +for liquid or food, debility of the vital energies and prostration of +the four limbs. From my diagnosis of these pulses, there should exist +these various symptoms, before (the pulses and the symptoms can be said) +to harmonise. But should perchance (any doctor maintain) that this state +of the pulses imports a felicitous event, your servant will not presume +to give an ear to such an opinion!" + +A matron, who was attached as a personal attendant (to Mrs. Ch'in,) and +who happened to be standing by interposed: "How could it be otherwise?" +she ventured. "In real truth, Doctor, you speak like a supernatural +being, and there's verily no need for us to say anything! We have now, +ready at hand, in our household, a good number of medical gentlemen, who +are in attendance upon her, but none of these are proficient enough to +speak in this positive manner. Some there are who say that it's a +genital complaint; others maintain that it's an organic disease. This +doctor explains that there is no danger: while another, again, holds +that there's fear of a crisis either before or after the winter +solstice; but there is, in one word, nothing certain said by them. May +it please you, sir, now to favour us with your clear directions." + +"This complaint of your lady's," observed the Doctor, "has certainly +been neglected by the whole number of doctors; for had a treatment with +certain medicines been initiated at the time of the first occurrence of +her habitual sickness, I cannot but opine that, by this time, a perfect +cure would have been effected. But seeing that the organic complaint has +now been, through neglect, allowed to reach this phase, this calamity +was, in truth, inevitable. My ideas are that this illness stands, as +yet, a certain chance of recovery, (three chances out of ten); but we +will see how she gets on, after she has had these medicines of mine. +Should they prove productive of sleep at night, then there will be added +furthermore two more chances in the grip of our hands. From my +diagnosis, your lady is a person, gifted with a preeminently excellent, +and intelligent disposition; but an excessive degree of intelligence is +the cause of frequent contrarieties; and frequent contrarieties give +origin to an excessive amount of anxious cares. This illness arises from +the injury done, by worrying and fretting, to the spleen, and from the +inordinate vigour of the liver; hence it is that the relief cannot come +at the proper time and season. Has not your lady, may I ask, heretofore +at the period of the catamenia, suffered, if indeed not from anaemia, +then necessarily from plethora? Am I right in assuming this or not?" + +"To be sure she did," replied the matron; "but she has never been +subject to anaemia, but to a plethora, varying from either two to three +days, and extending, with much irregularity, to even ten days." + +"Quite so!" observed the Doctor, after hearing what she had to say, "and +this is the source of this organic illness! Had it in past days been +treated with such medicine as could strengthen the heart, and improve +the respiration, would it have reached this stage? This has now overtly +made itself manifest in an ailment originating from the paucity of water +and the vigour of fire; but let me make use of some medicines, and we'll +see how she gets on!" + +There and then he set to work and wrote a prescription, which he handed +to Chia Jung, the purpose of which was: Decoction for the improvement of +respiration, the betterment of the blood, and the restoration of the +spleen. Ginseng, Atractylodes Lancea; Yunnan root; Prepared Ti root; +Aralia edulis; Peony roots; Levisticum from Sze Ch'uan; Sophora +tormentosa; Cyperus rotundus, prepared with rice; Gentian, soaked in +vinegar; Huai Shan Yao root; Real "O" glue; Carydalis Ambigua; and Dried +liquorice. Seven Fukien lotus seeds, (the cores of which should be +extracted,) and two large zizyphi to be used as a preparative. + +"What exalted intelligence!" Chia Jung, after perusing it, exclaimed. +"But I would also ask you, Doctor, to be good enough to tell me whether +this illness will, in the long run, endanger her life or not?" + +The Doctor smiled. "You, sir, who are endowed with most eminent +intelligence (are certain to know) that when a human illness has reached +this phase, it is not a derangement of a day or of a single night; but +after these medicines have been taken, we shall also have to watch the +effect of the treatment! My humble opinion is that, as far as the winter +of this year goes, there is no fear; in fact, after the spring equinox, +I entertain hopes of a complete cure." + +Chia Jung was likewise a person with all his wits about him, so that he +did not press any further minute questions. + +Chia Jung forthwith escorted the Doctor and saw him off, and taking the +prescription and the diagnosis, he handed them both to Chia Chen for his +perusal, and in like manner recounted to Chia Chen and Mrs. Yu all that +had been said on the subject. + +"The other doctors have hitherto not expressed any opinions as positive +as this one has done," observed Mrs. Yu, addressing herself to Chia +Chen, "so that the medicines to be used are, I think, surely the right +ones!" + +"He really isn't a man," rejoined Chia Chen, "accustomed to give much of +his time to the practice of medicine, in order to earn rice for his +support: and it's Feng Tzu-ying, who is so friendly with us, who is +mainly to be thanked for succeeding, after ever so much trouble, in +inducing him to come. But now that we have this man, the illness of our +son's wife may, there is no saying, stand a chance of being cured. But +on that prescription of his there is ginseng mentioned, so you had +better make use of that catty of good quality which was bought the other +day." + +Chia Jung listened until the conversation came to a close, after which +he left the room, and bade a servant go and buy the medicines, in order +that they should be prepared and administered to Mrs. Ch'in. + +What was the state of Mrs. Ch'in's illness, after she partook of these +medicines, we do not know; but, reader, listen to the explanation given +in the chapter which follows. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + In honour of Chia Ching's birthday, a family banquet is spread in the + Ning Mansion. + At the sight of Hsi-feng, Chia Jui entertains feelings of licentious + love. + + +We will now explain, in continuation of our story, that on the day of +Chia Ching's birthday, Chia Chen began by getting ready luscious +delicacies and rare fruits, which he packed in sixteen spacious present +boxes, and bade Chia Jung take them, along with the servants belonging +to the household, over to Chia Ching. + +Turning round towards Chia Jung: "Mind," he said, "that you observe +whether your grandfather be agreeable or not, before you set to work and +pay your obeisance! 'My father,' tell him, 'has complied with your +directions, venerable senior, and not presumed to come over; but he has +at home ushered the whole company of the members of the family (into +your apartments), where they all paid their homage facing the side of +honour.'" + +After Chia Jung had listened to these injunctions, he speedily led off +the family domestics, and took his departure. During this interval, one +by one arrived the guests. First came Chia Lien and Chia Se, who went to +see whether the seats in the various places (were sufficient). "Is there +to be any entertainment or not?" they also inquired. + +"Our master," replied the servants, "had, at one time, intended to +invite the venerable Mr. Chia Ching to come and spend this day at home, +and hadn't for this reason presumed to get up any entertainment. But +when the other day he came to hear that the old gentleman was not +coming, he at once gave us orders to go in search of a troupe of young +actors, as well as a band of musicians, and all these people are now +engaged making their preparations on the stage in the garden." + +Next came, in a group, mesdames Hsing and Wang, lady Feng and Pao-yue, +followed immediately after by Chia Chen and Mrs. Yu; Mrs. Yu's mother +having already arrived and being in there in advance of her. Salutations +were exchanged between the whole company, and they pressed one another +to take a seat. Chia Chen and Mrs. Yu both handed the tea round. + +"Our venerable lady," they explained, as they smiled, "is a worthy +senior; while our father is, on the other hand, only her nephew; so that +on a birthday of a man of his age, we should really not have had the +audacity to invite her ladyship; but as the weather, at this time, is +cool, and the chrysanthemums, in the whole garden, are in luxuriant +blossom, we have requested our venerable ancestor to come for a little +distraction, and to see the whole number of her children and +grand-children amuse themselves. This was the object we had in view, +but, contrary to our expectations, our worthy senior has not again +conferred upon us the lustre of her countenance." + +Lady Feng did not wait until madame Wang could open her mouth, but took +the initiative to reply. "Our venerable lady," she urged, "had, even so +late as yesterday, said that she meant to come; but, in the evening, +upon seeing brother Pao eating peaches, the mouth of the old lady once +again began to water, and after partaking of a little more than the half +of one, she had, about the fifth watch, to get out of bed two +consecutive times, with the result that all the forenoon to-day, she +felt her body considerably worn out. She therefore bade me inform our +worthy senior that it was utterly impossible for her to come to-day; +adding however that, if there were any delicacies, she fancied a few +kinds, but that they should be very tender." + +When Chia Chen heard these words, he smiled. "Our dowager lady," he +replied, "is, I argued, so fond of amusement that, if she doesn't come +to-day, there must, for a certainty, be some valid reason; and that's +exactly what happens to be the case." + +"The other day I heard your eldest sister explain," interposed madame +Wang, "that Chia Jung's wife was anything but well; but what's after all +the matter with her?" + +"She has," observed Mrs. Yu, "contracted this illness verily in a +strange manner! Last moon at the time of the mid-autumn festival, she +was still well enough to be able to enjoy herself, during half the +night, in company with our dowager lady and madame Wang. On her return, +she continued in good health, until after the twentieth, when she began +to feel more and more languid every day, and loth, likewise, to eat +anything; and this has been going on for well-nigh half a month and +more; she hasn't besides been anything like her old self for two +months." + +"May she not," remarked madame Hsing, taking up the thread of the +conversation, "be ailing for some happy event?" + +But while she was uttering these words, some one from outside announced: +"Our senior master, second master and all the gentlemen of the family +have come, and are standing in the Reception Hall!" Whereupon Chia Chen +and Chia Lien quitted the apartment with hurried step; and during this +while, Mrs. Yu reiterated how that some time ago a doctor had also +expressed the opinion that she was ailing for a happy event, but that +the previous day, had come a doctor, recommended by Feng Tzu-ying--a +doctor, who had from his youth up made medicine his study, and was very +proficient in the treatment of diseases,--who asserted, after he had +seen her, that it was no felicitous ailment, but that it was some grave +complaint. "It was only yesterday," (she explained,) "that he wrote his +prescription; and all she has had is but one dose, and already to-day +the giddiness in the head is considerably better; as regards the other +symptoms they have as yet shown no marked improvement." + +"I maintain," remarked lady Feng, "that, were she not quite unfit to +stand the exertion, would she in fact, on a day like this, be unwilling +to strain every nerve and come round." + +"You saw her," observed Mrs. Yu, "on the third in here; how that she +bore up with a violent effort for ever so long, but it was all because +of the friendship that exists between you two, that she still longed for +your society, and couldn't brook the idea of tearing herself away." + +When lady Feng heard these words, her eyes got quite red, and after a +time she at length exclaimed: "In the Heavens of a sudden come wind and +rain; while with man, in a day and in a night, woe and weal survene! But +with her tender years, if for a complaint like this she were to run any +risk, what pleasure is there for any human being to be born and to +sojourn in the world?" + +She was just speaking, when Chia Jung walked into the apartment; and +after paying his respects to madame Hsing, madame Wang, and lady Feng, +he then observed to Mrs. Yu: "I have just taken over the eatables to our +venerable ancestor; and, at the same time, I told him that my father was +at home waiting upon the senior, and entertaining the junior gentlemen +of the whole family, and that in compliance with grandfather's orders, +he did not presume to go over. The old gentleman was much delighted by +what he heard me say, and having signified that that was all in order, +bade me tell father and you, mother, to do all you can in your +attendance upon the senior gentlemen and ladies, enjoining me to +entertain, with all propriety, my uncles, aunts, and my cousins. He also +went on to urge me to press the men to cut, with all despatch, the +blocks for the Record of Meritorious Deeds, and to print ten thousand +copies for distribution. All these messages I have duly delivered to my +father, but I must now be quick and go out, so as to send the eatables +for the elder as well as for the younger gentlemen of the entire +household." + +"Brother Jung Erh," exclaimed lady Feng, "wait a moment. How is your +wife getting on? how is she, after all, to-day?" + +"Not well," replied Chia Jung. "But were you, aunt, on your return to go +in and see her, you will find out for yourself." + +Chia Jung forthwith left the room. During this interval, Mrs. Yu +addressed herself to mesdames Hsing and Wang; "My ladies," she asked, +"will you have your repast in here, or will you go into the garden for +it? There are now in the garden some young actors engaged in making +their preparations?" + +"It's better in here," madame Wang remarked, as she turned towards +madame Hsing. + +Mrs. Yu thereupon issued directions to the married women and matrons to +be quick in serving the eatables. The servants, in waiting outside the +door, with one voice signified their obedience; and each of them went +off to fetch what fell to her share. In a short while, the courses were +all laid out, and Mrs. Yu pressed mesdames Hsing and Wang, as well as +her mother, into the upper seats; while she, together with lady Feng and +Pao-yue, sat at a side table. + +"We've come," observed mesdames Hsing and Wang, "with the original idea +of paying our congratulations to our venerable senior on the occasion of +his birthday; and isn't this as if we had come for our own birthdays?" + +"The old gentleman," answered lady Feng, "is a man fond of a quiet life; +and as he has already consummated a process of purification, he may well +be looked upon as a supernatural being, so that the purpose to which +your ladyships have given expression may be considered as manifest to +his spirit, upon the very advent of the intention." + +As this sentence was uttered the whole company in the room burst out +laughing. Mrs. Yu's mother, mesdames Hsing and Wang, and lady Feng +having one and all partaken of the banquet, rinsed their mouths and +washed their hands, which over, they expressed a wish to go into the +garden. + +Chia Jung entered the room. "The senior gentlemen," he said to Mrs. Yu, +"as well as all my uncles and cousins, have finished their repast; but +the elder gentleman Mr. Chia She, who excused himself on the score of +having at home something to attend to, and Mr. Secundus (Chia Cheng), +who is not partial to theatrical performances and is always afraid that +people will be too boisterous in their entertainments, have both of them +taken their departure. The rest of the family gentlemen have been taken +over by uncle Secundus Mr. Lien, and Mr. Se, to the other side to listen +to the play. A few moments back Prince Nan An, Prince Tung P'ing, Prince +Hsi Ning, Prince Pei Ching, these four Princes, with Niu, Duke of Chen +Kuo, and five other dukes, six in all, and Shih, Marquis of Chung Ching, +and other seven, in all eight marquises, sent their messengers with +their cards and presents. I have already told father all about it; but +before I did so, the presents were put away in the counting room, the +lists of presents were all entered in the book, and the 'received with +thanks' cards were handed to the respective messengers of the various +mansions; the men themselves were also tipped in the customary manner, +and all of them were kept to have something to eat before they went on +their way. But, mother, you should invite the two ladies, your mother +and my aunt, to go over and sit in the garden." + +"Just so!" observed Mrs. Yu, "but we've only now finished our repast, +and were about to go over." + +"I wish to tell you, madame," interposed lady Feng, "that I shall go +first and see brother Jung's wife and then come and join you." + +"All right," replied madame Wang; "we should all have been fain to have +paid her a visit, did we not fear lest she should look upon our +disturbing her with displeasure, but just tell her that we would like to +know how she is getting on!" + +"My dear sister," remarked Mrs. Yu, "as our son's wife has a ready ear +for all you say, do go and cheer her up, (and if you do so,) it will +besides set my own mind at ease; but be quick and come as soon as you +can into the garden." + +Pao-yue being likewise desirous to go along with lady Feng to see lady +Ch'in, madame Wang remarked, "Go and see her just for a while, and then +come over at once into the garden; (for remember) she is your nephew's +wife, (and you couldn't sit in there long)." + +Mrs. Yu forthwith invited mesdames Wang and Hsing, as well as her own +mother, to adjourn to the other side, and they all in a body walked into +the garden of Concentrated Fragrance; while lady Feng and Pao-yue betook +themselves, in company with Chia Jung, over to this side. + +Having entered the door, they with quiet step walked as far as the +entrance of the inner chamber. Mrs. Ch'in, upon catching sight of them, +was bent upon getting up; but "Be quick," remonstrated lady Feng, "and +give up all idea of standing up; for take care your head will feel +dizzy." + +Lady Feng hastened to make a few hurried steps forward and to grasp Mrs. +Ch'in's hand in hers. "My dear girl!" she exclaimed; "How is it that +during the few days I've not seen you, you have grown so thin?" + +Readily she then took a seat on the rug, on which Mrs. Ch'in was seated, +while Pao-yue, after inquiring too about her health, sat in the chair on +the opposite side. + +"Bring the tea in at once," called out Chia Jung, "for aunt and uncle +Secundus have not had any tea in the drawing room." + +Mrs. Ch'in took lady Feng's hand in her own and forced a smile. "This is +all due to my lack of good fortune; for in such a family as this, my +father and mother-in-law treat me just as if I were a daughter of their +own flesh and blood! Besides, your nephew, (my husband,) may, it is +true, my dear aunt, be young in years, but he is full of regard for me, +as I have regard for him, and we have had so far no misunderstanding +between us! In fact, among the senior generation, as well as that of the +same age as myself, in the whole clan, putting you aside, aunt, about +whom no mention need be made, there is not one who has not ever had +anything but love for me, and not one who has not ever shown me anything +but kindness! But since I've fallen ill with this complaint, all my +energy has even every bit of it been taken out of me, so that I've been +unable to show to my father and mother-in-law any mark of filial +attention, yea so much as for one single day and to you, my dear aunt, +with all this affection of yours for me, I have every wish to be dutiful +to the utmost degree, but, in my present state, I'm really not equal to +it; my own idea is, that it isn't likely that I shall last through this +year." + +Pao-yue kept, while (she spoke,) his eyes fixed intently upon a picture +on the opposite side, representing some begonias drooping in the spring +time, and upon a pair of scrolls, with this inscription written by Ch'in +Tai-hsue: + + A gentle chill doth circumscribe the dreaming man because the spring + is cold! + The fragrant whiff which wafts itself into man's nose, is the perfume + of wine! + +And he could not help recalling to mind his experiences at the time when +he had fallen asleep in this apartment, and had, in his dream, visited +the confines of the Great Void. He was just plunged in a state of +abstraction, when he heard Mrs. Ch'in give utterance to these +sentiments, which pierced his heart as if they were ten thousand arrows, +(with the result that) tears unwittingly trickled from his eyes. + +Lady Feng perceiving him in tears felt it extremely painful within +herself to bear the sight; but she was on pins and needles lest the +patient should detect their frame of mind, and feel, instead (of +benefit), still more sore at heart, which would not, after all, be quite +the purpose of her visit; which was to afford her distraction and +consolation. "Pao-yue," she therefore exclaimed, "you are like an old +woman! Ill, as she is, simply makes her speak in this wise, and how ever +could things come to such a pass! Besides, she is young in years, so +that after a short indisposition, her illness will get all right!" +"Don't," she said as she turned towards Mrs. Ch'in, "give way to silly +thoughts and idle ideas! for by so doing won't you yourself be +aggravating your ailment?" + +"All that her sickness in fact needs," observed Chia Jung, "is, that she +should be able to take something to eat, and then there will be nothing +to fear." + +"Brother Pao," urged lady Feng, "your mother told you to go over, as +soon as you could, so that don't stay here, and go on in the way you're +doing, for you after all incite this lady also to feel uneasy at heart. +Besides, your mother over there is solicitous on your account." "You had +better go ahead with your uncle Pao," she consequently continued, +addressing herself to Chia Jung, "while I sit here a little longer." + +When Chia Jung heard this remark, he promptly crossed over with Pao-yue +into the garden of Concentrated Fragrance, while lady Feng went on both +to cheer her up for a time, and to impart to her, in an undertone, a +good deal of confidential advice. + +Mrs. Yu had despatched servants, on two or three occasions, to hurry +lady Feng, before she said to Mrs. Ch'in: "Do all you can to take good +care of yourself, and I'll come and see you again. You're bound to get +over this illness; and now, in fact, that you've come across that +renowned doctor, you have really nothing more to fear." + +"He might," observed Mrs. Ch'in as she smiled, "even be a supernatural +being and succeed in healing my disease, but he won't be able to remedy +my destiny; for, my dear aunt, I feel sure that with this complaint of +mine, I can do no more than drag on from day to day." + +"If you encourage such ideas," remonstrated lady Feng, "how can this +illness ever get all right? What you absolutely need is to cast away all +these notions, and then you'll improve. I hear moreover that the doctor +asserts that if no cure be effected, the fear is of a change for the +worse in spring, and not till then. Did you and I moreover belong to a +family that hadn't the means to afford any ginseng, it would be +difficult to say how we could manage to get it; but were your father and +mother-in-law to hear that it's good for your recovery, why not to speak +of two mace of ginseng a day, but even two catties will be also within +their means! So mind you do take every care of your health! I'm now off +on my way into the garden." + +"Excuse me, my dear aunt," added Mrs. Ch'in, "that I can't go with you; +but when you have nothing to do, I entreat you do come over and see me! +and you and I can sit and have a long chat." + +After lady Feng had heard these words, her eyes unwillingly got quite +red again. "When I'm at leisure I shall, of course," she rejoined, "come +often to see you;" and forthwith leading off the matrons and married +women, who had come over with her, as well as the women and matrons of +the Ning mansion, she passed through the inner part of the house, and +entered, by a circuitous way, the side gate of the park, when she +perceived: yellow flowers covering the ground; white willows flanking +the slopes; diminutive bridges spanning streams, resembling the Jo Yeh; +zigzag pathways (looking as if) they led to the steps of Heaven; limpid +springs dripping from among the rocks; flowers hanging from hedges +emitting their fragrance, as they were flapped by the winds; red leaves +on the tree tops swaying to and fro; groves picture-like, half stripped +of foliage; the western breeze coming with sudden gusts, and the wail of +the oriole still audible; the warm sun shining with genial rays, and the +cicada also adding its chirp: structures, visible to the gaze at a +distance in the South-east, soaring high on various sites and resting +against the hills; three halls, visible near by on the North-west, +stretching in one connected line, on the bank of the stream; strains of +music filling the pavilion, imbued with an unwonted subtle charm; and +maidens in fine attire penetrating the groves, lending an additional +spell to the scene. + +Lady Feng, while engaged in contemplating the beauties of the spot, +advanced onwards step by step. She was plunged in a state of ecstasy, +when suddenly, from the rear of the artificial rockery, egressed a +person, who approached her and facing her said, "My respects to you, +sister-in-law." + +Lady Feng was so startled by this unexpected appearance that she drew +back. "Isn't this Mr. Jui?" she ventured. + +"What! sister-in-law," exclaimed Chia Jui, "don't you recognise even +me?" + +"It isn't that I didn't recognise you," explained lady Feng, "but at the +sudden sight of you, I couldn't conceive that it would possibly be you, +sir, in this place!" + +"This was in fact bound to be," replied Chia Jui; "for there's some +subtle sympathy between me and you, sister-in-law. Here I just +stealthily leave the entertainment, in order to revel for a while in +this solitary place when, against every expectation, I come across you, +sister-in-law; and isn't this a subtle sympathy?" + +As he spoke, he kept his gaze fixed on lady Feng, who being an +intelligent person, could not but arrive, at the sight of his manner, at +the whole truth in her surmises. "It isn't to be wondered at," she +consequently observed, as she smiled hypocritically, "that your eldest +brother should make frequent allusion to your qualities! for after +seeing you on this occasion, and hearing you utter these few remarks, I +have readily discovered what an intelligent and genial person you are! I +am just now on my way to join the ladies on the other side, and have no +leisure to converse with you; but wait until I've nothing to attend to, +when we can meet again." + +"I meant to have gone over to your place and paid my respects to you, +sister-in-law," pleaded Chia Jui, "but I was afraid lest a person of +tender years like yourself mightn't lightly receive any visitors!" + +Lady Feng gave another sardonic smile. "Relatives," she continued, "of +one family, as we are, what need is there to say anything of tender +years?" + +After Chia Jui had heard these words, he felt his heart swell within him +with such secret joy that he was urged to reflect: "I have at length +to-day, when least I expected it, obtained this remarkable encounter +with her!" + +But as the display of his passion became still more repulsive, lady Feng +urged him to go. "Be off at once," she remarked, "and join the +entertainment; for mind, if they find you out, they will mulct you in so +many glasses of wine!" + +By the time this suggestion had reached Chia Jui's ears, half of his +body had become stiff like a log of wood; and as he betook himself away, +with lothful step, he turned his head round to cast glances at her. Lady +Feng purposely slackened her pace; and when she perceived that he had +gone a certain distance, she gave way to reflection. "This is indeed," +she thought, "knowing a person, as far as face goes, and not as heart! +Can there be another such a beast as he! If he really continues to +behave in this manner, I shall soon enough compass his death, with my +own hands, and he'll then know what stuff I'm made of." + +Lady Feng, at this juncture moved onward, and after turning round a +chain of hillocks, she caught sight of two or three matrons coming along +with all speed. As soon as they espied lady Feng they put on a smile. +"Our mistress," they said, "perceiving that your ladyship was not +forthcoming, has been in a great state of anxiety, and bade your +servants come again to request you to come over. + +"Is your mistress," observed lady Feng, "so like a quick-footed demon?" + +While lady Feng advanced leisurely, she inquired, "How many plays have +been recited?" to which question one of the matrons replied, "They have +gone through eight or nine." But while engaged in conversation, they had +already reached the back door of the Tower of Celestial Fragrance, where +she caught sight of Pao-yue playing with a company of waiting-maids and +pages. "Brother Pao," lady Feng exclaimed, "don't be up to too much +mischief!" "The ladies are all sitting upstairs," interposed one of the +maids. "Please, my lady, this is the way up." + +At these words lady Feng slackened her pace, raised her dress, and +walked up the stairs, where Mrs. Yu was already at the top of the +landing waiting for her. + +"You two," remarked Mrs. Yu, smiling, "are so friendly, that having met +you couldn't possibly tear yourself away to come. You had better +to-morrow move over there and take up your quarters with her and have +done; but sit down and let me, first of all, present you a glass of +wine." + +Lady Feng speedily drew near mesdames Hsing and Wang, and begged +permission to take a seat; while Mrs. Yu brought the programme, and +pressed lady Feng to mark some plays. + +"The senior ladies occupy the seats of honour," remonstrated lady Feng, +"and how can I presume to choose?" + +"We, and our relative by marriage, have selected several plays," +explained mesdames Hsing and Wang, "and it's for you now to choose some +good ones for us to listen to." + +Standing up, lady Feng signified her obedience; and taking over the +programme, and perusing it from top to bottom, she marked off one +entitled, the "Return of the Spirit," and another called "Thrumming and +Singing;" after which she handed back the programme, observing, "When +they have done with the 'Ennoblement of two Officers,' which they are +singing just at present, it will be time enough to sing these two." + +"Of course it will," retorted madame Wang, "but they should get it over +as soon as they can, so as to allow your elder Brother and your +Sister-in-law to have rest; besides, their hearts are not at ease." + +"You senior ladies don't come often," expostulated Mrs. Yu, "and you and +I will derive more enjoyment were we to stay a little longer; it's as +yet early in the day!" + +Lady Feng stood up and looked downstairs. "Where have all the gentlemen +gone to?" she inquired. + +"The gentlemen have just gone over to the Pavilion of Plenteous +Effulgence," replied a matron, who stood by; "they have taken along with +them ten musicians and gone in there to drink their wine." + +"It wasn't convenient for them," remarked lady Feng, "to be over here; +but who knows what they have again gone to do behind our backs?" + +"Could every one," interposed Mrs. Yu, "resemble you, a person of such +propriety!" + +While they indulged in chatting and laughing, the plays they had chosen +were all finished; whereupon the tables were cleared of the wines, and +the repast was served. The meal over, the whole company adjourned into +the garden, and came and sat in the drawing-room. After tea, they at +length gave orders to get ready the carriages, and they took their leave +of Mrs. Yu's mother. Mrs. Yu, attended by all the secondary wives, +servants, and married women, escorted them out, while Chia Chen, along +with the whole bevy of young men, stood by the vehicles, waiting in a +group for their arrival. + +After saluting mesdames Hsing and Wang, "Aunts," they said, "you must +come over again to-morrow for a stroll." + +"We must be excused," observed madame Wang, "we've sat here the whole +day to-day, and are, after all, feeling quite tired; besides, we shall +need to have some rest to-morrow." + +Both of them thereupon got into their carriages and took their +departure, while Chia Jui still kept a fixed gaze upon lady Feng; and it +was after Chia Chen had gone in that Li Kuei led round the horse, and +that Pao-yue mounted and went off, following in the track of mesdames +Hsing and Wang. + +Chia Chen and the whole number of brothers and nephews belonging to the +family had, during this interval, partaken of their meal, and the whole +party at length broke up. But in like manner, all the inmates of the +clan and the guests spent on the morrow another festive day, but we need +not advert to it with any minuteness. + +After this occasion, lady Feng came in person and paid frequent visits +to Mrs. Ch'in; but as there were some days on which her ailment was +considerably better, and others on which it was considerably worse, Chia +Chen, Mrs. Yu, and Chia Jung were in an awful state of anxiety. + +Chia Jui, it must moreover be noticed, came over, on several instances, +on a visit to the Jung mansion; but it invariably happened that he found +that lady Feng had gone over to the Ning mansion. + +This was just the thirtieth of the eleventh moon, the day on which the +winter solstice fell; and the few days preceding that season, dowager +lady Chia, madame Wang and lady Feng did not let one day go by without +sending some one to inquire about Mrs. Ch'in; and as the servants, on +their return, repeatedly reported that, during the last few days, +neither had her ailment aggravated, nor had it undergone any marked +improvement, madame Wang explained to dowager lady Chia, that as a +complaint of this nature had reached this kind of season without getting +any worse, there was some hope of recovery. + +"Of course there is!" observed the old lady; "what a dear child she is! +should anything happen to her, won't it be enough to make people die +from grief!" and as she spake she felt for a time quite sore at heart. +"You and she," continuing, she said to lady Feng, "have been friends for +ever so long; to-morrow is the glorious first (and you can't go), but +after to-morrow you should pay her a visit and minutely scrutinise her +appearance: and should you find her any better, come and tell me on your +return! Whatever things that dear child has all along a fancy for, do +send her round a few even as often as you can by some one or other!" + +Lady Feng assented to each of her recommendations; and when the second +arrived, she came, after breakfast, to the Ning mansion to see how Mrs. +Ch'in was getting on; and though she found her none the worse, the flesh +all over her face and person had however become emaciated and parched +up. She readily sat with Mrs. Ch'in for a long while, and after they had +chatted on one thing and another, she again reiterated the assurances +that this illness involved no danger, and distracted her for ever so +long. + +"Whether I get well or not," observed Mrs. Ch'in, "we'll know in spring; +now winter is just over, and I'm anyhow no worse, so that possibly I may +get all right; and yet there's no saying; but, my dear sister-in-law, do +press our old lady to compose her mind! yesterday, her ladyship sent me +some potato dumplings, with minced dates in them, and though I had two, +they seem after all to be very easily digested!" + +"I'll send you round some more to-morrow," lady Feng suggested; "I'm now +going to look up your mother-in-law, and will then hurry back to give my +report to our dowager lady." + +"Please, sister-in-law," Mrs. Ch'in said, "present my best respects to +her venerable ladyship, as well as to madame Wang." + +Lady Feng signified that she would comply with her wishes, and, +forthwith leaving the apartment, she came over and sat in Mrs. Yu's +suite of rooms. + +"How do you, who don't see our son's wife very often, happen to find +her?" inquired Mrs. Yu. + +Lady Feng drooped her head for some time. "There's no help," she +ventured, "for this illness! but you should likewise make every +subsequent preparation, for it would also be well if you could scour it +away." + +"I've done so much as to secretly give orders," replied Mrs. Yu, "to get +things ready; but for that thing (the coffin), there's no good timber to +be found, so that it will have to be looked after by and by." + +Lady Feng swallowed hastily a cup of tea, and after a short chat, "I +must be hurrying back," she remarked, "to deliver my message to our +dowager lady!" + +"You should," urged Mrs. Yu, "be sparse in what you tell her lady ship +so as not to frighten an old person like her!" + +"I know well enough what to say," replied lady Feng. + +Without any further delay, lady Feng then sped back. On her arrival at +home she looked up the old lady. "Brother Jung's wife," she explained, +"presents her compliments, and pays obeisance to your venerable +ladyship; she says that she's much better, and entreats you, her worthy +senior, to set your mind at ease! That as soon as she's a little better +she will come and prostrate herself before your ladyship." + +"How do you find her?" inquired dowager lady Chia. + +"For the present there's nothing to fear," continued lady Feng; "for her +mien is still good." + +After the old lady had heard these words, she was plunged for a long +while in deep reflection; and as she turned towards lady Feng, "Go and +divest yourself of your toilette," she said, "and have some rest." + +Lady Feng in consequence signified her obedience, and walked away, +returning home after paying madame Wang a visit. P'ing Erh helped lady +Feng to put on the house costume, which she had warmed by the fire, and +lady Feng eventually took a seat and asked "whether there was anything +doing at home?" + +P'ing Erh then brought the tea, and after going over to hand the cup: +"There's nothing doing," she replied; "as regards the interest on the +three hundred taels, Wang Erh's wife has brought it in, and I've put it +away. Besides this, Mr. Jui sent round to inquire if your ladyship was +at home or not, as he meant to come and pay his respects and to have a +chat." + +"Heng!" exclaimed lady Feng at these words. "Why should this beast +compass his own death? we'll see when he comes what is to be done." + +"Why is this Mr. Jui so bent upon coming?' P'ing Erh having inquired, +lady Feng readily gave her an account of how she had met him in the +course of the ninth moon in the Ning mansion, and of what had been said +by him. + +"What a mangy frog to be bent upon eating the flesh of a heavenly +goose!" ejaculated P'ing Erh. "A stupid and disorderly fellow with no +conception of relationship, to harbour such a thought! but we'll make +him find an unnatural death!" + +"Wait till he comes," added lady Feng, "when I feel certain I shall find +some way." + +What happened, however, when Chia Jui came has not, as yet, been +ascertained, but listen, reader, to the explanation given in the next +chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + Wang Hsi-feng maliciously lays a trap for Chia Jui, under pretence + that his affection is reciprocated. + Chia T'ien-hsiang gazes at the face of the mirror of Voluptuousness. + + +Lady Feng, it must be noticed in continuation of our narrative, was just +engaged in talking with P'ing Erh, when they heard some one announce +that Mr. Jui had come. Lady Feng gave orders that he should be invited +to step in, and Chia Jui perceiving that he had been asked to walk in +was at heart elated at the prospect of seeing her. + +With a face beaming with smiles, Lady Feng inquired again and again how +he was; and, with simulated tenderness she further pressed him to take a +seat and urged him to have a cup of tea. + +Chia Jui noticed how still more voluptuous lady Feng looked in her +present costume, and, as his eyes burnt with love, "How is it," he +inquired, "that my elder brother Secundus is not yet back?" + +"What the reason is I cannot tell," lady Feng said by way of reply. + +"May it not be," Chia Jui smilingly insinuated, "that some fair damsel +has got hold of him on the way, and that he cannot brook to tear himself +from her to come home?" + +"That makes it plain that there are those among men who fall in love +with any girl they cast their eyes on," hinted lady Feng. + +"Your remarks are, sister-in-law, incorrect, for I'm none of this kind!" +Chia Jui explained smirkingly. + +"How many like you can there be!" rejoined lady Feng with a sarcastic +smile; "in ten, not one even could be picked out!" + +When Chia Jui heard these words, he felt in such high glee that he +rubbed his ears and smoothed his cheeks. "My sister-in-law," he +continued, "you must of course be extremely lonely day after day." + +"Indeed I am," observed lady Feng, "and I only wish some one would come +and have a chat with me to break my dull monotony." + +"I daily have ample leisure," Chia Jui ventured with a simper, "and +wouldn't it be well if I came every day to dispel your dulness, +sister-in-law?" + +"You are simply fooling me," exclaimed lady Feng laughing. "It isn't +likely you would wish to come over here to me?" + +"If in your presence, sister-in-law, I utter a single word of falsehood, +may the thunder from heaven blast me!" protested Chia Jui. "It's only +because I had all along heard people say that you were a dreadful +person, and that you cannot condone even the slightest shortcoming +committed in your presence, that I was induced to keep back by fear; but +after seeing you, on this occasion, so chatty, so full of fun and most +considerate to others, how can I not come? were it to be the cause of my +death, I would be even willing to come!" + +"You're really a clever person," lady Feng observed sarcastically. "And +oh so much superior to both Chia Jung and his brother! Handsome as their +presence was to look at, I imagined their minds to be full of +intelligence, but who would have thought that they would, after all, be +a couple of stupid worms, without the least notion of human affection!" + +The words which Chia Jui heard, fell in so much the more with his own +sentiments, that he could not restrain himself from again pressing +forward nearer to her; and as with eyes strained to give intentness to +his view, he gazed at lady Feng's purse: "What rings have you got on?" +he went on to ask. + +"You should be a little more deferential," remonstrated lady Feng in a +low tone of voice, "so as not to let the waiting-maids detect us." + +Chia Jui withdrew backward with as much alacrity as if he had received +an Imperial decree or a mandate from Buddha. + +"You ought to be going!" lady Feng suggested, as she gave him a smile. + +"Do let me stay a while longer," entreated Chia Jui, "you are indeed +ruthless, my sister-in-law." + +But with gentle voice did lady Feng again expostulate. "In broad +daylight," she said, "with people coming and going, it is not really +convenient that you should abide in here; so you had better go, and when +it's dark and the watch is set, you can come over, and quietly wait for +me in the corridor on the Eastern side!" + +At these words, Chia Jui felt as if he had received some jewel or +precious thing. "Don't make fun of me!" he remarked with vehemence. "The +only thing is that crowds of people are ever passing from there, and how +will it be possible for me to evade detection?" + +"Set your mind at ease!" lady Feng advised; "I shall dismiss on leave +all the youths on duty at night; and when the doors, on both sides, are +closed, there will be no one else to come in!" + +Chia Jui was delighted beyond measure by the assurance, and with +impetuous haste, he took his leave and went off; convinced at heart of +the gratification of his wishes. He continued, up to the time of dusk, a +prey to keen expectation; and, when indeed darkness fell, he felt his +way into the Jung mansion, availing himself of the moment, when the +doors were being closed, to slip into the corridor, where everything was +actually pitch dark, and not a soul to be seen going backwards or +forwards. + +The door leading over to dowager lady Chia's apartments had already been +put under key, and there was but one gate, the one on the East, which +had not as yet been locked. Chia Jui lent his ear, and listened for ever +so long, but he saw no one appear. Suddenly, however, was heard a sound +like "lo teng," and the east gate was also bolted; but though Chia Jui +was in a great state of impatience, he none the less did not venture to +utter a sound. All that necessity compelled him to do was to issue, with +quiet steps, from his corner, and to try the gates by pushing; but they +were closed as firmly as if they had been made fast with iron bolts; and +much though he may, at this juncture, have wished to find his way out, +escape was, in fact, out of the question; on the south and north was one +continuous dead wall, which, even had he wished to scale, there was +nothing which he could clutch and pull himself up by. + +This room, besides, was one the interior (of which was exposed) to the +wind, which entered through (the fissure) of the door; and was perfectly +empty and bare; and the weather being, at this time, that of December, +and the night too very long, the northerly wind, with its biting gusts, +was sufficient to penetrate the flesh and to cleave the bones, so that +the whole night long he had a narrow escape from being frozen to death; +and he was yearning, with intolerable anxiety for the break of day, when +he espied an old matron go first and open the door on the East side, and +then come in and knock at the western gate. + +Chia Jui seeing that she had turned her face away, bolted out, like a +streak of smoke, as he hugged his shoulders with his hands (from intense +cold.) As luck would have it, the hour was as yet early, so that the +inmates of the house had not all got out of bed; and making his escape +from the postern door, he straightaway betook himself home, running back +the whole way. + +Chia Jui's parents had, it must be explained, departed life at an early +period, and he had no one else, besides his grandfather Tai-ju, to take +charge of his support and education. This Tai-ju had, all along, +exercised a very strict control, and would not allow Chia Jui to even +make one step too many, in the apprehension that he might gad about out +of doors drinking and gambling, to the neglect of his studies. + +Seeing, on this unexpected occasion, that he had not come home the whole +night, he simply felt positive, in his own mind, that he was certain to +have run about, if not drinking, at least gambling, and dissipating in +houses of the demi-monde up to the small hours; but he never even gave +so much as a thought to the possibility of a public scandal, as that in +which he was involved. The consequence was that during the whole length +of the night he boiled with wrath. + +Chia Jui himself, on the other hand, was (in such a state of +trepidation) that he could wipe the perspiration (off his face) by +handfuls; and he felt constrained on his return home, to have recourse +to deceitful excuses, simply explaining that he had been at his eldest +maternal uncle's house, and that when it got dark, they kept him to +spend the night there. + +"Hitherto," remonstrated Tai-ju, "when about to go out of doors, you +never ventured to go, on your own hook, without first telling me about +it, and how is it that yesterday you surreptitiously left the house? for +this offence alone you deserve a beating, and how much more for the lie +imposed upon me." + +Into such a violent fit of anger did he consequently fly that laying +hands on him, he pulled him over and administered to him thirty or forty +blows with a cane. Nor would he allow him to have anything to eat, but +bade him remain on his knees in the court conning essays; impressing on +his mind that he would not let him off, before he had made up for the +last ten days' lessons. + +Chia Jui had in the first instance, frozen the whole night, and, in the +next place, came in for a flogging. With a stomach, besides, gnawed by +the pangs of hunger, he had to kneel in a place exposed to drafts +reading the while literary compositions, so that the hardships he had to +endure were of manifold kinds. + +Chia Jui's infamous intentions had at this junction undergone no change; +but far from his thoughts being even then any idea that lady Feng was +humbugging him, he seized, after the lapse of a couple of days, the +first leisure moments to come again in search of that lady. + +Lady Feng pretended to bear him a grudge for his breach of faith, and +Chia Jui was so distressed that he tried by vows and oaths (to establish +his innocence.) Lady Feng perceiving that he had, of his own accord, +fallen into the meshes of the net laid for him, could not but devise +another plot to give him a lesson and make him know what was right and +mend his ways. + +With this purpose, she gave him another assignation. "Don't go over +there," she said, "to-night, but wait for me in the empty rooms giving +on to a small passage at the back of these apartments of mine. But +whatever you do, mind don't be reckless." + +"Are you in real earnest?" Chia Jui inquired. + +"Why, who wants to play with you?" replied lady Feng; "if you don't +believe what I say, well then don't come!" + +"I'll come, I'll come, yea I'll come, were I even to die!" protested +Chia Jui. + +"You should first at this very moment get away!" lady Feng having +suggested, Chia Jui, who felt sanguine that when evening came, success +would for a certainty crown his visit, took at once his departure in +anticipation (of his pleasure.) + +During this interval lady Feng hastily set to work to dispose of her +resources, and to add to her stratagems, and she laid a trap for her +victim; while Chia Jui, on the other hand, was until the shades of +darkness fell, a prey to incessant expectation. + +As luck would have it a relative of his happened to likewise come on +that very night to their house and to only leave after he had dinner +with them, and at an hour of the day when the lamps had already been +lit; but he had still to wait until his grandfather had retired to rest +before he could, at length with precipitate step, betake himself into +the Jung mansion. + +Straightway he came into the rooms in the narrow passage, and waited +with as much trepidation as if he had been an ant in a hot pan. He +however waited and waited, but he saw no one arrive; he listened but not +even the sound of a voice reached his ear. His heart was full of intense +fear, and he could not restrain giving way to surmises and suspicion. +"May it not be," he thought, "that she is not coming again; and that I +may have once more to freeze for another whole night?" + +While indulging in these erratic reflections, he discerned some one +coming, looking like a black apparition, who Chia Jui readily concluded, +in his mind, must be lady Feng; so that, unmindful of distinguishing +black from white, he as soon as that person arrived in front of him, +speedily clasped her in his embrace, like a ravenous tiger pouncing upon +its prey, or a cat clawing a rat, and cried: "My darling sister, you +have made me wait till I'm ready to die." + +As he uttered these words, he dragged the comer, in his arms, on to the +couch in the room; and while indulging in kisses and protestations of +warm love, he began to cry out at random epithets of endearment. + +Not a sound, however, came from the lips of the other person; and Chia +Jui had in the fulness of his passion, exceeded the bounds of timid love +and was in the act of becoming still more affectionate in his +protestations, when a sudden flash of a light struck his eye, by the +rays of which he espied Chia Se with a candle in hand, casting the light +round the place, "Who's in this room?" he exclaimed. + +"Uncle Jui," he heard some one on the couch explain, laughing, "was +trying to take liberties with me!" + +Chia Jui at one glance became aware that it was no other than Chia Jung; +and a sense of shame at once so overpowered him that he could find +nowhere to hide himself; nor did he know how best to extricate himself +from the dilemma. Turning himself round, he made an attempt to make good +his escape, when Chia Se with one grip clutched him in his hold. + +"Don't run away," he said; "sister-in-law Lien has already reported your +conduct to madame Wang; and explained that you had tried to make her +carry on an improper flirtation with you; that she had temporised by +having recourse to a scheme to escape your importunities, and that she +had imposed upon you in such a way as to make you wait for her in this +place. Our lady was so terribly incensed, that she well-nigh succumbed; +and hence it is that she bade me come and catch you! Be quick now and +follow me, and let us go and see her." + +After Chia Jui had heard these words, his very soul could not be +contained within his body. + +"My dear nephew," he entreated, "do tell her that it wasn't I; and I'll +show you my gratitude to-morrow in a substantial manner." + +"Letting you off," rejoined Chia Se, "is no difficult thing; but how +much, I wonder, are you likely to give? Besides, what you now utter with +your lips, there will be no proof to establish; so you had better write +a promissory note." + +"How could I put what happened in black and white on paper?" observed +Chia Jui. + +"There's no difficulty about that either!" replied Chia Se; "just write +an account of a debt due, for losses in gambling, to some one outside; +for payment of which you had to raise funds, by a loan of a stated +number of taels, from the head of the house; and that will be all that +is required." + +"This is, in fact, easy enough!" Chia Jui having added by way of answer; +Chia Se turned round and left the room; and returning with paper and +pencils, which had been got ready beforehand for the purpose, he bade +Chia Jui write. The two of them (Chia Jung and Chia Se) tried, the one +to do a good turn, and the other to be perverse in his insistence; but +(Chia Jui) put down no more than fifty taels, and appended his +signature. + +Chia Se pocketed the note, and endeavoured subsequently to induce Chia +Jung to come away; but Chia Jung was, at the outset, obdurate and +unwilling to give in, and kept on repeating; "To-morrow, I'll tell the +members of our clan to look into your nice conduct!" + +These words plunged Chia Jui in such a state of dismay, that he even +went so far as to knock his head on the ground; but, as Chia Se was +trying to get unfair advantage of him though he had at first done him a +good turn, he had to write another promissory note for fifty taels, +before the matter was dropped. + +Taking up again the thread of the conversation, Chia Se remarked, "Now +when I let you go, I'm quite ready to bear the blame! But the gate at +our old lady's over there is already bolted, and Mr. Chia Cheng is just +now engaged in the Hall, looking at the things which have arrived from +Nanking, so that it would certainly be difficult for you to pass through +that way. The only safe course at present is by the back gate; but if +you do go by there, and perchance meet any one, even I will be in for a +mess; so you might as well wait until I go first and have a peep, when +I'll come and fetch you! You couldn't anyhow conceal yourself in this +room; for in a short time they'll be coming to stow the things away, and +you had better let me find a safe place for you." + +These words ended, he took hold of Chia Jui, and, extinguishing again +the lantern, he brought him out into the court, feeling his way up to +the bottom of the steps of the large terrace. "It's safe enough in this +nest," he observed, "but just squat down quietly and don't utter a +sound; wait until I come back before you venture out." + +Having concluded this remark, the two of them (Chia Se and Chia Jung) +walked away; while Chia Jui was, all this time, out of his senses, and +felt constrained to remain squatting at the bottom of the terrace +stairs. He was about to consider what course was open for him to adopt, +when he heard a noise just over his head; and, with a splash, the +contents of a bucket, consisting entirely of filthy water, was emptied +straight down over him from above, drenching, as luck would have it, his +whole person and head. + +Chia Jui could not suppress an exclamation. "Ai ya!" he cried, but he +hastily stopped his mouth with his hands, and did not venture to give +vent to another sound. His whole head and face were a mass of filth, and +his body felt icy cold. But as he shivered and shook, he espied Chia Se +come running. "Get off," he shouted, "with all speed! off with you at +once!" + +As soon as Chia Jui returned to life again, he bolted with hasty +strides, out of the back gate, and ran the whole way home. The night had +already reached the third watch, so that he had to knock at the door for +it to be opened. + +"What's the matter?" inquired the servants, when they saw him in this +sorry plight; (an inquiry) which placed him in the necessity of making +some false excuse. "The night was dark," he explained, "and my foot +slipped and I fell into a gutter." + +Saying this, he betook himself speedily to his own apartment; and it was +only after he had changed his clothes and performed his ablutions, that +he began to realise that lady Feng had made a fool of him. He +consequently gave way to a fit of wrath; but upon recalling to mind the +charms of lady Feng's face, he felt again extremely aggrieved that he +could not there and then clasp her in his embrace, and as he indulged in +these wild thoughts and fanciful ideas, he could not the whole night +long close his eyes. + +From this time forward his mind was, it is true, still with lady Feng, +but he did not have the courage to put his foot into the Jung mansion; +and with Chia Jung and Chia Se both coming time and again to dun him for +the money, he was likewise full of fears lest his grandfather should +come to know everything. + +His passion for lady Feng was, in fact, already a burden hard to bear, +and when, moreover, the troubles of debts were superadded to his tasks, +which were also during the whole day arduous, he, a young man of about +twenty, as yet unmarried, and a prey to constant cravings for lady Feng, +which were difficult to gratify, could not avoid giving way, to a great +extent, to such evil habits as exhausted his energies. His lot had, what +is more, been on two occasions to be frozen, angered and to endure much +hardship, so that with the attacks received time and again from all +sides, he unconsciously soon contracted an organic disease. In his heart +inflammation set in; his mouth lost the sense of taste; his feet got as +soft as cotton from weakness; his eyes stung, as if there were vinegar +in them. At night, he burnt with fever. During the day, he was +repeatedly under the effects of lassitude. Perspiration was profuse, +while with his expectorations of phlegm, he brought up blood. The whole +number of these several ailments came upon him, before the expiry of a +year, (with the result that) in course of time, he had not the strength +to bear himself up. Of a sudden, he would fall down, and with his eyes, +albeit closed, his spirit would be still plunged in confused dreams, +while his mouth would be full of nonsense and he would be subject to +strange starts. + +Every kind of doctor was asked to come in, and every treatment had +recourse to; and, though of such medicines as cinnamon, aconitum seeds, +turtle shell, ophiopogon, Yue-chue herb, and the like, he took several +tens of catties, he nevertheless experienced no change for the better; +so that by the time the twelfth moon drew once again to an end, and +spring returned, this illness had become still more serious. + +Tai-ju was very much concerned, and invited doctors from all parts to +attend to him, but none of them could do him any good. And as later on, +he had to take nothing else but decoctions of pure ginseng, Tai-ju could +not of course afford it. Having no other help but to come over to the +Jung mansion, and make requisition for some, Madame Wang asked lady Feng +to weigh two taels of it and give it to him. "The other day," rejoined +lady Feng, "not long ago, when we concocted some medicine for our +dowager lady, you told us, madame, to keep the pieces that were whole, +to present to the spouse of General Yang to make physic with, and as it +happens it was only yesterday that I sent some one round with them." + +"If there's none over here in our place," suggested madame Wang, "just +send a servant to your mother-in-law's, on the other side, to inquire +whether they have any. Or it may possibly be that your elder +brother-in-law Chen, over there, might have a little. If so, put all you +get together, and give it to them; and when he shall have taken it, and +got well and you shall have saved the life of a human being, it will +really be to the benefit of you all." + +Lady Feng acquiesced; but without directing a single person to institute +any search, she simply took some refuse twigs, and making up a few mace, +she despatched them with the meagre message that they had been sent by +madame Wang, and that there was, in fact, no more; subsequently +reporting to madame Wang that she had asked for and obtained all there +was and that she had collected as much as two taels, and forwarded it to +them. + +Chia Jui was, meanwhile, very anxious to recover his health, so that +there was no medicine that he would not take, but the outlay of money +was of no avail, for he derived no benefit. + +On a certain day and at an unexpected moment, a lame Taoist priest came +to beg for alms, and he averred that he had the special gift of healing +diseases arising from grievances received, and as Chia Jui happened, +from inside, to hear what he said, he forthwith shouted out: "Go at +once, and bid that divine come in and save my life!" while he +reverentially knocked his head on the pillow. + +The whole bevy of servants felt constrained to usher the Taoist in; and +Chia Jui, taking hold of him with a dash, "My Buddha!" he repeatedly +cried out, "save my life!" + +The Taoist heaved a sigh. "This ailment of yours," he remarked, "is not +one that could be healed with any medicine; I have a precious thing here +which I'll give you, and if you gaze at it every day, your life can be +saved!" + +When he had done talking, he produced from his pouch a looking-glass +which could reflect a person's face on the front and back as well. On +the upper part of the back were engraved the four characters: "Precious +Mirror of Voluptuousness." Handing it over to Chia Jui: "This object," +he proceeded, "emanates from the primordial confines of the Great Void +and has been wrought by the Monitory Dream Fairy in the Palace of +Unreality and Spirituality, with the sole intent of healing the +illnesses which originate from evil thoughts and improper designs. +Possessing, as it does, the virtue of relieving mankind and preserving +life, I have consequently brought it along with me into the world, but I +only give it to those intelligent preeminent and refined princely men to +set their eyes on. On no account must you look at the front side; and +you should only gaze at the back of it; this is urgent, this is +expedient! After three days, I shall come and fetch it away; by which +time, I'm sure, it will have made him all right." + +These words finished, he walked away with leisurely step, and though all +tried to detain him, they could not succeed. + +Chia Jui received the mirror. "This Taoist," he thought, "would seem to +speak sensibly, and why should I not look at it and try its effect?" At +the conclusion of these thoughts, he took up the Mirror of +Voluptuousness, and cast his eyes on the obverse side; but upon +perceiving nought else than a skeleton standing in it, Chia Jui +sustained such a fright that he lost no time in covering it with his +hands and in abusing the Taoist. "You good-for-nothing!" he exclaimed, +"why should you frighten me so? but I'll go further and look at the +front and see what it's like." + +While he reflected in this manner, he readily looked into the face of +the mirror, wherein he caught sight of lady Feng standing, nodding her +head and beckoning to him. With one gush of joy, Chia Jui felt himself, +in a vague and mysterious manner, transported into the mirror, where he +held an affectionate tete-a-tete with lady Feng. Lady Feng escorted him +out again. On his return to bed, he gave vent to an exclamation of "Ai +yah!" and opening his eyes, he turned the glass over once more; but +still, as hitherto, stood the skeleton in the back part. + +Chia Jui had, it is true, experienced all the pleasant sensations of a +tete-a-tete, but his heart nevertheless did not feel gratified; so that +he again turned the front round, and gazed at lady Feng, as she still +waved her hand and beckoned to him to go. Once more entering the mirror, +he went on in the same way for three or four times, until this occasion, +when just as he was about to issue from the mirror, he espied two +persons come up to him, who made him fast with chains round the neck, +and hauled him away. Chia Jui shouted. "Let me take the mirror and I'll +come along." But only this remark could he utter, for it was forthwith +beyond his power to say one word more. The servants, who stood by in +attendance, saw him at first still holding the glass in his hand and +looking in, and then, when it fell from his grasp, open his eyes again +to pick it up, but when at length the mirror dropped, and he at once +ceased to move, they in a body came forward to ascertain what had +happened to him. He had already breathed his last. The lower part of his +body was icy-cold; his clothes moist from profuse perspiration. With all +promptitude they changed him there and then, and carried him to another +bed. + +Tai-ju and his wife wept bitterly for him, to the utter disregard of +their own lives, while in violent terms they abused the Taoist priest. +"What kind of magical mirror is it?" they asked. "If we don't destroy +this glass, it will do harm to not a few men in the world!" + +Having forthwith given directions to bring fire and burn it, a voice was +heard in the air to say, "Who told you to look into the face of it? You +yourselves have mistaken what is false for what is true, and why burn +this glass of mine?" + +Suddenly the mirror was seen to fly away into the air; and when Tai-ju +went out of doors to see, he found no one else than the limping Taoist, +shouting, "Who is he who wishes to destroy the Mirror of +Voluptuousness?" While uttering these words, he snatched the glass, and, +as all eyes were fixed upon him, he moved away lissomely, as if swayed +by the wind. + +Tai-ju at once made preparations for the funeral and went everywhere to +give notice that on the third day the obsequies would commence, that on +the seventh the procession would start to escort the coffin to the Iron +Fence Temple, and that on the subsequent day, it would be taken to his +original home. + +Not much time elapsed before all the members of the Chia family came, in +a body, to express their condolences. Chia She, of the Jung Mansion, +presented twenty taels, and Chia Cheng also gave twenty taels. Of the +Ning Mansion, Chia Chen likewise contributed twenty taels. The remainder +of the members of the clan, of whom some were poor and some rich, and +not equally well off, gave either one or two taels, or three or four, +some more, some less. Among strangers, there were also contributions, +respectively presented by the families of his fellow-scholars, +amounting, likewise, collectively to twenty or thirty taels. + +The private means of Tai-ju were, it is true, precarious, but with the +monetary assistance he obtained, he anyhow performed the funeral rites +with all splendour and eclat. + +But who would have thought it, at the close of winter of this year, Lin +Ju-hai contracted a serious illness, and forwarded a letter, by some +one, with the express purpose of fetching Lin Tai-yue back. These +tidings, when they reached dowager lady Chia, naturally added to the +grief and distress (she already suffered), but she felt compelled to +make speedy preparations for Tai-yue's departure. Pao-yue too was +intensely cut up, but he had no alternative but to defer to the +affection of father and daughter; nor could he very well place any +hindrance in the way. + +Old lady Chia, in due course, made up her mind that she would like Chia +Lien to accompany her, and she also asked him to bring her back again +along with him. But no minute particulars need be given of the manifold +local presents and of the preparations, which were, of course, +everything that could be wished for in excellence and perfectness. +Forthwith the day for starting was selected, and Chia Lien, along with +Lin Tai-yue, said good-bye to all the members of the family, and, +followed by their attendants, they went on board their boats, and set +out on their journey for Yang Chou. + +But, Reader, should you have any wish to know fuller details, listen to +the account given in the subsequent Chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + Ch'in K'o-ch'ing dies, and Chia Jung is invested with the rank of + military officer to the Imperial Body-guard. + Wang Hsi-feng lends her help in the management of the Jung Kuo + Mansion. + + +Lady Feng, it must be added, in prosecuting our narrative, was ever +since Chia Lien's departure to accompany Tai-yue to Yang Chou, really +very dejected at heart; and every day, when evening came, she would, +after simply indulging in a chat and a laugh with P'ing Erh, turn in, in +a heedless frame of mind, for the night. + +In the course of the night of this day, she had been sitting with P'ing +Erh by lamp-light clasping the hand-stove; and weary of doing her work +of embroidery, she had at an early hour, given orders to warm the +embroidered quilt, and both had gone to bed; and as she was bending her +fingers, counting the progress of the journey, and when they should be +arriving, unexpectedly, the third watch struck. + +P'ing Erh had already fallen fast asleep; and lady Feng was feeling at +length her sleepy eyes slightly dose, when she faintly discerned Mrs. +Ch'in walk in from outside. + +"My dear sister-in-law," she said as she smiled, "sleep in peace; I'm on +my way back to-day, and won't even you accompany me just one stage? But +as you and I have been great friends all along, I cannot part from you, +sister-in-law, and have therefore come to take my leave of you. There +is, besides, a wish of mine, which isn't yet accomplished; and if I +don't impart it to you, it isn't likely that telling any one else will +be of any use." + +Lady Feng could not make out the sense of the words she heard. "What +wish is it you have?" she inquired, "do tell me, and it will be safe +enough with me." + +"You are, my dear sister-in-law, a heroine among women," observed Mrs. +Ch'in, "so much so that those famous men, with sashes and official hats, +cannot excel you; how is it that you're not aware of even a couple of +lines of common adages, of that trite saying, 'when the moon is full, it +begins to wane; when the waters are high, they must overflow?' and of +that other which says that 'if you ascend high, heavy must be your +fall.' Our family has now enjoyed splendour and prosperity for already +well-nigh a century, but a day comes when at the height of good fortune, +calamity arises; and if the proverb that 'when the tree falls, the +monkeys scatter,' be fulfilled, will not futile have been the reputation +of culture and old standing of a whole generation?" + +Lady Feng at these words felt her heart heavy, and overpowered by +intense awe and veneration. + +"The fears you express are well founded," she urgently remarked, "but +what plan is there adequate to preserve it from future injury?" + +"My dear sister-in-law," rejoined Mrs. Ch'in with a sardonic smile, +"you're very simple indeed! When woe has reached its climax, weal +supervenes. Prosperity and adversity, from days of yore up to the +present time, now pass away, and now again revive, and how can +(prosperity) be perpetuated by any human exertion? But if now, we could +in the time of good fortune, make provision against any worldly +concerns, which might arise at any season of future adversity, we might +in fact prolong and preserve it. Everything, for instance, is at present +well-regulated; but there are two matters which are not on a sure +footing, and if such and such suitable action could be adopted with +regard to these concerns, it will, in subsequent days, be found easy to +perpetuate the family welfare in its entity." + +"What matters are these?" inquired lady Feng. + +"Though at the graves of our ancestors," explained Mrs. Ch'in, +"sacrifices and oblations be offered at the four seasons, there's +nevertheless no fixed source of income. In the second place, the family +school is, it is true, in existence; but it has no definite +grants-in-aid. According to my views, now that the times are prosperous, +there's, as a matter of course, no lack of offerings and contributions; +but by and bye, when reverses set in, whence will these two outlays be +met from? Would it not be as well, and my ideas are positive on this +score, to avail ourselves of the present time, when riches and honours +still reign, to establish in the immediate vicinity of our ancestral +tombs, a large number of farms, cottages, and estates, in order to +enable the expenditure for offerings and grants to entirely emanate from +this source? And if the household school were also established on this +principle, the old and young in the whole clan can, after they have, by +common consent, determined upon rules, exercise in days to come control, +in the order of the branches, over the affairs connected with the landed +property, revenue, ancestral worship and school maintenance for the year +(of their respective term.) Under this rotatory system, there will +likewise be no animosities; neither will there be any mortgages, or +sales, or any of these numerous malpractices; and should any one happen +to incur blame, his personal effects can be confiscated by Government. +But the properties, from which will be derived the funds for ancestral +worship, even the officials should not be able to appropriate, so that +when reverses do supervene, the sons and grandsons of the family may be +able to return to their homes, and prosecute their studies, or go in for +farming. Thus, while they will have something to fall back upon, the +ancestral worship will, in like manner, be continued in perpetuity. But, +if the present affluence and splendour be looked upon as bound to go on +without intermission, and with no thought for the day to come, no +enduring plan be after all devised, presently, in a little while, there +will, once again, transpire a felicitous occurrence of exceptional kind, +which, in point of fact, will resemble the splendour of oil scorched on +a violent fire, or fresh flowers decorated with brocades. You should +bear in mind that it will also be nothing more real than a transient +pageant, nothing but a short-lived pleasure! Whatever you do, don't +forget the proverb, that 'there's no banquet, however sumptuous, from +which the guests do not disperse;' and unless you do, at an early date, +take precautions against later evils, regret will, I apprehend, be of no +avail." + +"What felicitous occurrence will take place?" lady Feng inquired with +alacrity. + +"The decrees of Heaven cannot be divulged; but as I have been very +friendly with you, sister-in-law, for so long, I will present you, +before I take my leave, with two lines, which it behoves you to keep in +mind," rejoined Mrs. Ch'in, as she consequently proceeded to recite what +follows: + + The three springs, when over, all radiance will wane; + The inmates to seek each a home will be fain. + +Lady Feng was bent upon making further inquiries, when she heard a +messenger at the second gate strike the "cloudy board" four consecutive +blows. It was indeed the announcement of a death; and it woke up lady +Feng with a start. A servant reported that lady Jung of the eastern +mansion was no more. + +Lady Feng was so taken aback that a cold perspiration broke out all over +her person, and she fell for a while into vacant abstraction. But she +had to change her costume, with all possible haste, and to come over to +madame Wang's apartments. + +By this time, all the members of the family were aware of the tidings, +and there was not one of them who did not feel disconsolate; one and all +of them were much wounded at heart. The elder generation bethought +themselves of the dutiful submission which she had all along displayed; +those of the same age as herself reflected upon the friendship and +intimacy which had ever existed with her; those younger than her +remembered her past benevolence. Even the servants of the household, +whether old or young, looked back upon her qualities of sympathy with +the poor, pity of the destitute, affection for the old, and +consideration for the young; and not one of them all was there who did +not mourn her loss, and give way to intense grief. + +But these irrelevant details need not be dilated upon; suffice it to +confine ourselves to Pao-yue. + +Consequent upon Lin Tai-yue's return home, he was left to his own self +and felt very lonely. Neither would he go and disport himself with +others; but with the daily return of dusk, he was wont to retire quietly +to sleep. + +On this day, while he was yet under the influence of a dream, he heard +the announcement of Mrs. Ch'in's death, and turning himself round +quickly he crept out of bed, when he felt as if his heart had been +stabbed with a sword. With a sudden retch, he straightway expectorated a +mouthful of blood, which so frightened Hsi Jen and the rest that they +rushed forward and supported him. + +"What is the matter?" they inquired, and they meant also to go and let +dowager lady Chia know, so as to send for a doctor, but Pao-yue dissuaded +them. + +"There's no need of any flurry; it's nothing at all," he said, "it's +simply that the fire of grief has attacked the heart, and that the blood +did not circulate through the arteries." + +As he spoke, he speedily raised himself up, and, after asking for his +clothes and changing, he came over to see dowager lady Chia. His wish +was to go at once to the other side; and Hsi Jen, though feeling uneasy +at heart, seeing the state of mind he was in, did not again hinder him, +as she felt constrained to let him please himself. + +When old lady Chia saw that he was bent upon going: "The breath is just +gone out of the body," she consequently remonstrated, "and that side is +still sullied. In the second place it's now dark, and the wind is high; +so you had better wait until to-morrow morning, when you will be in +ample time." + +Pao-yue would not agree to this, and dowager lady Chia gave orders to get +the carriage ready, and to depute a few more attendants and followers to +go with him. Under this escort he went forward and straightway arrived +in front of the Ning mansion, where they saw the main entrance wide +open, the lamps on the two sides giving out a light as bright as day, +and people coming and going in confused and large numbers; while the +sound of weeping inside was sufficient to shake the mountains and to +move the hills. + +Pao-yue dismounted from the carriage; and with hurried step, walked into +the apartment, where the coffin was laid. He gave vent to bitter tears +for a few minutes, and subsequently paid his salutations to Mrs. Yu. +Mrs. Yu, as it happened, had just had a relapse of her old complaint of +pains in the stomach and was lying on her bed. + +He eventually came out again from her chamber to salute Chia Chen, just +at the very moment that Chia Tai-ju, Chia Tai-hsiu, Chia Ch'ih, Chiao +Hsiao, Chia Tun, Chia She, Chia Cheng, Chia Tsung, Chia Pin, Chia Hsing, +Chia Kuang, Chia Shen, Chia Ch'iung, Chia Lin, Chia Se, Chia Ch'ang, +Chia Ling, Chia Yuen, Chia Ch'in, Chia Chen, Chia P'ing, Chia Tsao, Chia +Heng, Chia Fen, Chia Fang, Chia Lan, Chia Chun, Chia Chih and the other +relatives of the families had likewise arrived in a body. + +Chia Chen wept so bitterly that he was like a man of tears. "Of the +whole family, whether young or old, distant relatives or close friends," +he was just explaining to Chia Tai-ju and the rest, "who did not know +that this girl was a hundred times better than even our son? but now +that her spirit has retired, it's evident that this elder branch of the +family will be cut off and that there will be no survivor." + +While he gave vent to these words, he again burst into tears, and the +whole company of relatives set to work at once to pacify him. "She has +already departed this life," they argued, "and tears are also of no +avail, besides the pressing thing now is to consult as to what kind of +arrangements are to be made." + +Chia Chen clapped his hands. "What arrangements are to be made!" he +exclaimed; "nothing is to be done, but what is within my means." + +As they conversed, they perceived Ch'in Yeh and Ch'in Chung, as well as +several relations of Mrs. Yu, arrive, together with Mrs. Yu's sisters; +and Chia Chen forthwith bade Chia Ch'ung, Chia Shen, Chia Lin and Chia +Se, the four of them, to go and entertain the guests; while he, at the +same time, issued directions to go and ask the Astrologer of the +Imperial Observatory to come and choose the days for the ceremonies. + +(This Astrologer) decided that the coffin should remain in the house for +seven times seven days, that is forty-nine days; that after the third +day, the mourning rites should be begun and the formal cards should be +distributed; that all that was to be done during these forty-nine days +was to invite one hundred and eight Buddhist bonzes to perform, in the +main Hall, the High Confession Mass, in order to ford the souls of +departed relatives across the abyss of suffering, and afterwards to +transmute the spirit (of Mrs. Ch'in); that, in addition, an altar should +be erected in the Tower of Heavenly Fragrance, where nine times nine +virtuous Taoist priests should, for nineteen days, offer up prayers for +absolution from punishment, and purification from retribution. That +after these services, the tablet should be moved into the Garden of +Concentrated Fragrance, and that in the presence of the tablet, fifteen +additional eminent bonzes and fifteen renowned Taoist Priests should +confront the altar and perform meritorious deeds every seven days. + +The news of the death of the wife of his eldest grandson reached Chia +Ching; but as he himself felt sure that, at no distant date, he would +ascend to the regions above, he was loth to return again to his home, +and so expose himself to the contamination of the world, as to +completely waste the meritorious excellence acquired in past days. For +this reason, he paid no heed to the event, but allowed Chia Chen a free +hand to accomplish the necessary preparations. + +Chia Chen, to whom we again revert, was fond of display and +extravagance, so that he found, on inspection of coffins, those few made +of pine-wood unsuitable to his taste; when, strange coincidence, Hsueeh +P'an came to pay his visit of condolence, and perceiving that Chia Chen +was in quest of a good coffin: "In our establishment," he readily +suggested, "we have a lot of timber of some kind or other called Ch'iang +wood, which comes from the T'ieh Wang Mount, in Huang Hai; and which +made into coffins will not rot, not for ten thousand years. This lot +was, in fact, brought down, some years back, by my late father; and had +at one time been required by His Highness I Chung, a Prince of the royal +blood; but as he became guilty of some mismanagement, it was, in +consequence, not used, and is still lying stored up in our +establishment; and another thing besides is that there's no one with the +means to purchase it. But if you do want it, you should come and have a +look at it." + +Chia Chen, upon hearing this, was extremely delighted, and gave orders +that the planks should be there and then brought over. When the whole +family came to inspect them, they found those for the sides and the +bottom to be all eight inches thick, the grain like betel-nut, the smell +like sandal-wood or musk, while, when tapped with the hand, the sound +emitted was like that of precious stones; so that one and all agreed in +praising the timber for its remarkable quality. + +"What is their price?" Chia Chen inquired with a smile. + +"Even with one thousand taels in hand," explained Hsueeh P'an laughingly, +"I feel sure you wouldn't find any place, where you could buy the like. +Why ask about price? if you just give the workmen a few taels for their +labour, it will be quite sufficient." + +Chia Chen, at these words, lost no time in giving expression to profuse +assurances of gratitude, and was forthwith issuing directions that the +timber should be split, sawn and made up, when Chia Cheng proffered his +advice. "Such articles shouldn't," he said, "be, in my idea, enjoyed by +persons of the common run; it would be quite ample if the body were +placed in a coffin made of pine of the best quality." + +But Chia Chen would not listen to any suggestion. + +Suddenly he further heard that Mrs. Ch'in's waiting-maid, Jui Chu by +name, had, after she had become alive to the fact that her mistress had +died, knocked her head against a post, and likewise succumbed to the +blows. This unusual occurrence the whole clan extolled in high terms; +and Chia Chen promptly directed that, with regard to ceremonies, she +should be treated as a granddaughter, and that the body should, after it +had been placed in the coffin, be also deposited in the Hall of Attained +Immortality, in the Garden of Concentrated Fragrance. + +There was likewise a young waiting-maid, called Pao Chu, who, as Mrs. +Ch'in left no issue, was willing to become an adopted child, and begged +to be allowed to undertake the charge of dashing the mourning bowl, and +accompanying the coffin; which pleased Chia Chen so much that he +speedily transmitted orders that from that time forth Pao Chu should be +addressed by all as 'young miss.' + +Pao Chu, after the rites of an unmarried daughter, mourned before the +coffin to such an unwonted degree, as if bent upon snapping her own +life; while the members of the entire clan, as well as the inmates of +the Mansions, each and all, readily observed, in their conduct, the +established mourning usages, without of course any transgression or +confusion. + +"Chia Jung," pondered Chia Chen, "has no higher status than that of +graduate by purchase, and were this designation written on the funeral +streamer, it will not be imposing, and, in point of fact, the retinue +will likewise be small." He therefore was exceedingly unhappy, in his +own mind, when, as luck would have it, on this day, which was the fourth +day of the first seven, Tai Ch'uean, a eunuch of the Palace of High +Renown, whose office was that of Palace Overseer, first prepared +sacrificial presents, which he sent round by messengers, and next came +himself in an official chair, preceded by criers beating the gong, to +offer sacrificial oblations. + +Chia Chen promptly received him, and pressed him into a seat; and when +they adjourned into the Hall of the Loitering Bees, tea was presented. + +Chia Chen had already arrived at a fixed purpose, so that he seized an +opportunity to tell him of his wish to purchase an office for Chia +Jung's advancement. + +Tai Ch'uean understood the purport of his remark. "It is, I presume," he +added smilingly, "that the funeral rites should be a little more +sumptuous." + +"My worthy sir," eagerly rejoined Chia Chen, "your surmise on that score +is perfectly correct." + +"The question," explained Tai Ch'uean, "comes up at an opportune moment; +for there is just at present a good vacancy. Of the three hundred +officers who at present constitute the Imperial Body Guard, there are +two wanting. Yesterday marquis Hsiang Yang's third brother came to +appeal to me with one thousand five hundred taels of ready money, which +he brought over to my house. You know the friendship of old standing +which exists between him and me, so that, placing other considerations +aside, I without a second thought, assented for his father's sake. But +there still remains another vacancy, which, who would have thought it, +fat general Feng, of Yung Hsing, asked to purchase for his son; but I +have had no time to give him an answer. Besides, as our child wants to +purchase it, you had better at once write a statement of his +antecedents." + +Chia Chen lost no time in bidding some one write the statement on red +paper, which Tai Ch'uean found, on perusal, to record that Chia Jung was +a graduate, by purchase, of the District of Chiang Ning, of the Ying +T'ien Prefecture, in Chiang Nan; that Chia Tai-hua, his great +grandfather, had been Commander-in-Chief of the Metropolitan Camp, and +an hereditary general of the first class, with the prefix of Spiritual +Majesty; that his grandfather Chia Ching was a metropolitan graduate of +the tripos in the Ping Ch'en year; and that his father Chia Chen had +inherited a rank of nobility of the third degree, and was a general, +with the prefix of Majestic Intrepidity. + +Tai Ch'uean, after perusal, turned his hand behind him and passed (the +statement) to a constant attendant of his, to put away: "Go back," he +enjoined him, "and give it to His Excellency Mr. Chao, at the head of +the Board of Revenue, and tell him, that I present him my compliments, +and would like him to draw up a warrant for subaltern of the Imperial +Body Guard of the fifth grade, and to also issue a commission; that he +should take the particulars from this statement and fill them up; and +that to-morrow I'll come and have the money weighed and sent over." + +The young attendant signified his obedience, and Tai Ch'uean thereupon +took his leave. Chia Chen did all he could to detain him, but with no +success; so that he had no alternative but to escort him as far as the +entrance of the Mansion. As he was about to mount into his chair, Chia +Chen inquired, "As regards the money, shall I go and pay it into the +Board, or am I to send it to the Board of Eunuchs?" + +"If you were to go and pay it at the Board," observed Tai Ch'uean; "you +are sure to suffer loss; so that it would be better if you just weighed +exactly one thousand taels and sent them over to my place; for then an +end will be put to all trouble." + +Chia Chen was incessant in his expression of gratitude. "When the period +of mourning has expired," he consequently added, "I shall lead in +person, my despicable eldest son to your mansion, to pay our obeisance, +and express our thanks." + +They then parted company, but close upon this, were heard again the +voices of runners. It was, in fact, the spouse of Shih Ting, the marquis +of Chung Ching, who was just arriving. Shih Hsiang-yun, mesdames Wang, +and Hsing, lady Feng and the rest came out at once, to greet her, and +lead her into the Main Building; when they further saw the sacrificial +presents of the three families, of the marquis of Chin Hsiang, the +marquis of Ch'uan Ning, and the earl of Shou Shan, likewise spread out +in front of the tablet. + +In a short while, these three noblemen descended from their chairs, and +Chia Chen received them in the Large Hall. In like manner all the +relatives and friends arrived in such quick succession, one coming, +another going, that it is impossible to remember even so much as their +number. One thing need be said that during these forty-nine days the +street on which the Ning Kuo mansion stood, was covered with a sheet of +white, formed by the people, coming and going; and thronged with +clusters of flowers, as the officials came and went. + +At the instance of Chia Chen, Chia Jung, the next day donned his gala +dress and went over for his papers; and on his return the articles in +use in front of the coffin, as well as those belonging to the cortege +and other such things, were all regulated by the rules prescribed for an +official status of the fifth degree; while, on the tablet and notice +alike the inscription consisted of: Spirit of lady Ch'in, (by marriage) +of the Chia mansion, and by patent a lady of the fifth rank (of the +titles of honour). + +The main entrance of the Garden of Concentrated Fragrance, adjoining the +street, was opened wide; and on both sides were raised sheds for the +musicians, and two companies of players, dressed in blue, discoursed +music at the proper times; while one pair after another of the +paraphernalia was drawn out so straight as if cut by a knife or slit by +an axe. There were also two large carmine boards, carved with gilt +inscriptions, erected outside the gate; the designations in bold +characters on the upper sides being: Guard of the Imperial Antechamber, +charged with the protection of the Inner Palace and Roads, in the Red +Prohibited City. + +On the opposite side, facing each other, rose, high above the ground, +two altars for the services of the Buddhist and Taoist priests, while a +placard bore the inscription in bold type: Funeral Obsequies of lady +Ch'in, (by marriage) of the Chia mansion, by patent a lady of the fifth +rank, consort of the eldest grandson of the hereditary duke of Ning Kuo, +and guard of the Imperial Antechamber, charged with the protection of +the Inner Palace and Roads in the Red Prohibited City. We, Wan Hsue, by +Heaven's commands charged with the perennial preservation of perfect +peace in the Kingdom of the Four Continents, as well as of the lands +contained therein, Head Controller of the School of Void and Asceticism, +and Superior in Chief (of the Buddhist hierarchy); and Yeh Sheng, +Principal Controller, since the creation, of the Disciples of Perfect +Excellence and Superior in Chief (of the Taoist priesthood), and others, +having in a reverent spirit purified ourselves by abstinence, now raise +our eyes up to Heaven, prostrate ourselves humbly before Buddha, and +devoutly pray all the Chia Lans, Chieh Tis, Kung Ts'aos and other +divinities to extend their sacred bounties, and from afar to display +their spiritual majesty, during the forty-nine days (of the funeral +rites), for the deliverance from judgment and the absolution from +retribution (of the spirit of lady Ch'in), so that it may enjoy a +peaceful and safe passage, whether by sea or by land; and other such +prayers to this effect, which are in fact not worth the trouble of +putting on record. + +Chia Chen had, it is true, all his wishes gratified; but, as his wife +was laid up in the inner chambers, with a relapse of her old complaint, +and was not in a fit state to undertake the direction of the ceremonies, +he was very much distressed lest, when the high officials (and their +wives) came and went, there should occur any breach of the prescribed +conventionalities, which he was afraid would evoke ridicule. Hence it +was that he felt in low spirits; but while he was plunged in solicitude +Pao-yue, who happened to be close by, readily inquired, "Everything may +be safely looked upon as being satisfactorily settled, and why need you, +elder brother, still be so full of concern?" + +Chia Chen forthwith explained to him how it was that in the ladies' +apartments there was no one (to do the honours), but Pao-yue at these +words smiled: "What difficulty is there about it?" he remarked; "I'll +recommend some one to take temporary charge of the direction of things +for you during the month, and I can guarantee that everything will be +properly carried out." + +"Who is it?" Chia Chen was quick to ask; but as Pao-yue perceived that +there were still too many relatives and friends seated around, he did +not feel as if he could very well speak out; so that he went up to Chia +Chen and whispered a couple of remarks in his ear. + +Chia Chen's joy knew no bounds when he heard this suggestion. +"Everything will indeed be properly carried out," he added laughingly; +"but I must now be going at once." + +With these words, he drew Pao-yue along, and taking leave of the whole +number of visitors, they forthwith came into the drawing rooms. + +This day was luckily not a grand occasion, so that few relatives and +friends had come. In the inner apartments there were only a small number +of ladies of close kinship. Mesdames Hsing and Wang, and lady Feng, and +the women of the whole household, were entertaining the guests, when +they heard a servant announce that Mr. Chia Chen had come. (This +announcement) took the whole body of ladies and young ladies so much by +surprise, that, with a rushing sound, they tried to hide in the back +rooms; but they were not quick enough (to effect their escape). + +Lady Feng alone composedly stood up. Chia Chen was himself at this time +rather unwell, and being also very much cut up, he entered the room +shuffling along, propping himself up with a staff. + +"You are not well?" therefore remarked madame Hsing and the others, "and +you've had besides so much to attend to during these consecutive days, +that what you require is rest to get all right; and why do you again +come over?" + +Chia Chen was, as he leant on his staff, straining every nerve to bend +his body so as to fall on his knees and pay his respects to them, and +express his sense of obligation for the trouble they had taken, when +madame Hsing and the other ladies hastily called Pao-yue to raise him up, +bidding a servant move a chair for him to sit on. Chia Chen would not +take a seat; but making an effort to return a smile, "Your nephew," he +urged, "has come over, as there's a favour that I want to ask of my two +aunts as well as of my eldest cousin." + +"What is it?" promptly inquired madame Hsing and the rest. + +"My aunts," Chia Chen replied with all haste, "you surely are aware that +your grandson's wife is now no more; your nephew's wife is also laid up +unwell, and, as I see that things in the inner apartments are really not +what they should properly be, I would trouble my worthy eldest cousin to +undertake in here the direction of affairs for a month; and if she does, +my mind will be set at ease." + +Madame Hsing smiled. "Is it really about this that you've come?" she +asked; "your eldest cousin is at present staying with your aunt Secunda, +and all you have to do is to speak to her and it will be all right." + +"How ever could a mere child like her," speedily remonstrated madame +Wang, "carry out all these matters? and shouldn't she manage things +properly, she will, on the contrary, make people laugh, so it would +therefore be better that you should trouble some one else." + +"What your ideas are, aunt," rejoined Chia Chen smiling, "your nephew +has guessed; you're afraid lest my eldest cousin should have to bear +fatigue and annoyance; for as to what you say, that she cannot manage +things, why my eldest cousin has, from her youth up, ever been in her +romping and playing so firm and decided; and now that she has entered +the married estate, and has the run of affairs in that mansion, she must +have reaped so much the more experience, and have become quite an old +hand! I've been thinking these last few days that outside my eldest +cousin, there's no one else who could come to my help; and, aunt, if you +don't do it for the face of your nephew and your nephew's wife, do it, +at least, for the affection you bore to her who is no more." + +While he uttered these words tears trickled down his face. The fears +that madame Wang inwardly entertained were that lady Feng had no +experience in funeral matters, and she apprehended, that if she was not +equal to managing them, she would incur the ridicule of others; but when +she now heard Chia Chen make the appeal in such a disconsolate mood, she +relented considerably in her resolution. But as she turned her eyes +towards lady Feng (to ascertain her wishes), she saw that she was +plunged in abstraction. + +Lady Feng had all along found the greatest zest in taking the initiative +in everything, with the idea of making a display of her abilities, so +that when she perceived how earnest Chia Chen was in his entreaties, she +had, at an early period, made up her mind to give a favourable reply. +Seeing besides madame Wang show signs of relenting, she readily turned +round and said to her, "My elder cousin has made his appeal in such a +solicitous way that your ladyship should give your consent and have done +with it." + +"Do you think you are equal to the task?" inquired madame Wang in a +whisper. + +"What's there that I couldn't be equal to?" replied lady Feng; "for +urgent matters outside, my cousin may be said to have already made full +provision; and all there is to be done is to keep an eye over things +inside. But should there occur anything that I don't know, I can ask +you, madame, and it will be right." + +Madame Wang perceiving the reasonableness of what she heard her say, +uttered not a word, and when Chia Chen saw that lady Feng had assented; +"How much you do attend to I don't mind," he observed, forcing another +smile, "but I must, in any case, entreat you, cousin, to assume the +onerous charge. As a first step I'll pay my obeisance to you in here, +and when everything has been finished, I shall then come over into that +mansion to express my thanks." + +With these words still on his lips, he made a low bow, but lady Feng had +scarcely had time to return the compliment, before Chia Chen had +directed a servant to fetch the warrant of the Ning mansion, which he +bade Pao-yue hand over to lady Feng. + +"Cousin," he added, "take whatever steps you think best; and if you want +anything, all you have to do is to simply send for it with this, and +there will even be no use to consult me. The only thing I must ask you +is, not to be too careful in order to save me expense, for the main +consideration is that things should be handsomely done. In the second +place, it will be well if you were also to treat servants here in the +same way as in the other mansion, and not be too scrupulous in the fear +that any one might take offence. Outside these two concerns, there's +nothing else to disturb my mind." + +Lady Feng did not venture to take over the warrant at once, but merely +turned round to ascertain what were madame Wang's wishes. + +"In view of the reason brother Chen advances," madame Wang rejoined, +"you had better assume the charge at once and finish with it; don't, +however, act on your own ideas; but when there's aught to be done, be +careful and send some one to consult your cousin's wife, ever so little +though it be on the subject." + +Pao-yue had already taken over the warrant from Chia Chen's grasp, and +forcibly handed it to lady Feng, "Will you, cousin," he went on to +question, "take up your quarters here or will you come every day? should +you cross over, day after day, it will be ever so much more fatiguing +for you, so that I shall speedily have a separate court got ready for +you in here, where you, cousin, can put up for these several days and be +more comfortable." + +"There's no need," replied lady Feng smiling; "for on that side they +can't do without me; and it will be better if I were to come daily." + +"Do as you like," Chia Chen observed; and after subsequently passing a +few more irrelevant remarks, he at length left the room. + +After a time, the lady relatives dispersed, and madame Wang seized the +opportunity to inquire of lady Feng, "What do you purpose doing to-day?" + +"You had better, please madame, go back," urged lady Feng, "for I must +first of all find out some clue before I can go home." + +Madame Wang, upon hearing these words, returned to her quarters, in +advance, in company with madame Hsing, where we will leave them. + +Lady Feng meanwhile came into a colonnade, which enclosed a suite of +three apartments, and taking a seat, she gave way to reflection. "The +first consideration," she communed within herself, "is that the +household is made up of mixed elements, and things might be lost; the +second is that the preparations are under no particular control, with +the result that, when the time comes, the servants might shirk their +duties; the third is that the necessary expenditure being great, there +will be reckless disbursements and counterfeit receipts; the fourth, +that with the absence of any distinction in the matter of duties, +whether large or small, hardship and ease will be unequally shared; and +the fifth, that the servants being arrogant, through leniency, those +with any self-respect will not brook control, while those devoid of +'face' will not be able to improve their ways." + +These five were, in point of fact, usages in vogue in the Ning mansion. +But as you are unable, reader, to ascertain here how lady Feng set +things right, listen to the explanations given in the following chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + Lin Ju-hai dies in the City of Yang Chou. + Chia Pao-yue meets the Prince of Pei Ching on the way. + + +When Lai Sheng, be it noticed in continuing our story, the major-domo in +the Ning Kuo mansion, came to hear that from inside an invitation had +been extended to lady Feng to act as deputy, he summoned together his +co-workers and other servants. "Lady Secunda, of the western mansion," +he harangued them, "has now been asked to take over the control of +internal affairs; and should she come we must, when we apply for +anything, or have anything to say, be circumspect in our service; we +should all every day come early and leave late; and it's better that we +should exert ourselves during this one month and take rest after it's +over. We mustn't throw away our old 'face,' for she's well known to be +an impetuous thing, with a soured face and a hard heart, who, when +angry, knows no distinction of persons." + +The whole company unanimously admitted that he was right; and one of +their number too observed smilingly, "It's but right that for the inner +apartments, we should, in fact, get her to come and put things in proper +order, as everything is very much what it should not be." + +But while he uttered these words, they saw Lai Wang's wife coming, with +an indent in hand, to fetch paper for the supplications and prayers, the +amount of which was mentioned on the order; and they one and all +hastened to press her into a seat, and to help her to a cup of tea; +while a servant was told to fetch the quantity of paper required. (When +it was brought,) Lai Wang carried it in his arms and came, the whole way +with his wife, as far as the ceremonial gate; when he, at length, +delivered it over to her and she clasped it, and walked into the room +all alone. + +Lady Feng issued prompt directions to Ts'ai Ming to prepare a register; +and sending, there and then, for Lai Sheng's wife, she asked her to +submit, for her perusal, the roll with the servants' names. She +furthermore fixed upon an early hour of the following day to convene the +domestics and their wives in the mansion, in order that they should +receive their orders; but, after cursorily glancing over the number of +entries in the list, and making a few inquiries of Lai Sheng's wife, she +soon got into her curricle, and went home. + +On the next day, at six and two quarters, she speedily came over. The +matrons and married women of the Ning Kuo mansion assembled together, as +soon as they heard of her arrival; but, perceiving lady Feng, assisted +by Lai Sheng's wife, engaged in apportioning the duties of each servant, +they could not presume to intrude, but remained outside the window +listening to what was going on. + +"As I've been asked to take over the charge," they heard lady Feng +explain to Lai Sheng's wife, "I'm, needless to say, sure to incur the +displeasure of you all, for I can't compare with your mistress, who has +such a sweet temper, and allows you to have your own way. But saying +nothing more of those ways, which prevailed hitherto among your people +in this mansion, you must now do as I tell you; for on the slightest +disregard of my orders, I shall, with no discrimination between those +who may be respectable and those who may not be, clearly and distinctly +call all alike to account." + +Having concluded these remarks, she went on to order Ts'ai Ming to read +the roll; and, as their names were uttered, one by one was called in, +and passed under inspection. After this inspection, which was got over +in a short time, she continued giving further directions. "These +twenty," she said "should be divided into two companies; ten in each +company, whose sole daily duties should be to attend inside to the +guests, coming and going, and to serve tea for them; while with any +other matters, they needn't have anything to do. These other twenty +should also be divided into two companies, whose exclusive duties will +be, day after day, to look after the tea and eatables of the relatives +of our family; and these too will have no business to concern themselves +with outside matters. These forty will again be divided into two +companies, who will have nothing else to look to than to remain in front +of the coffin and offer incense, renew the oil, hang up the streamers, +watch the coffin, offer sacrifices of rice, and oblations of tea, and +mourn with the mourners; and neither need they mind anything outside +these duties. These four servants will be specially attached to the +inner tea-rooms to look after cups, saucers and the tea articles +generally; and in the event of the loss of any single thing, the four of +them will have to make it good between them. These other four servants +will have the sole charge of the articles required for eatables and +wine; and should any get mislaid compensation will have likewise to be +made by them. These eight servants will only have to attend to taking +over the sacrificial offerings; while these eight will have nothing more +to see to beyond keeping an eye over the lamps, oil, candles and paper +wanted everywhere. I'll have a whole supply served out and handed to you +eight to by and by apportion to the various places, in quantities which +I will determine. These thirty servants are each day, by rotation, to +keep watch everywhere during the night, looking after the gates and +windows, taking care of the fires and candles, and sweeping the grounds; +while the servants, who remain, are to be divided for duty in the houses +and rooms, each one having charge of a particular spot. And beginning +from the tables, chairs and curios in each place, up to the very +cuspidors and brooms, yea even to each blade of grass or sprout of herb, +which may be there, the servants looking after this part will be called +upon to make good anything that may be either mislaid or damaged. You, +Lai Sheng's wife, will every day have to exercise general supervision +and inspection; and should there be those who be lazy, any who may +gamble, drink, fight or wrangle, come at once and report the matter to +me; and you mustn't show any leniency, for if I come to find it out, I +shall have no regard to the good old name of three or four generations, +which you may enjoy. You now all have your fixed duties, so that +whatever batch of you after this acts contrary to these orders, I shall +simply have something to say to that batch and to no one else. The +servants, who have all along been in my service, carry watches on their +persons, and things, whether large or small, are invariably done at a +fixed time. But, in any case, you also have clocks in your master's +rooms, so that at 6.30, I shall come and read the roll, and at ten +you'll have breakfast. Whenever there is any indent of any permits to be +made or any report to be submitted, it should be done at 11.30 a.m. and +no later. At 7 p.m., after the evening paper has been burnt, I shall +come to each place in person to hold an inspection; and on my return, +the servants on watch for the night will hand over the keys. The next +day, I shall again come over at 6.30 in the morning; and needless to say +we must all do the best we can for these few days; and when the work has +been finished your master is sure to recompense you." + +When she had done speaking, she went on to give orders that tea, oil, +candles, feather dusters, brooms and other necessaries should be issued, +according to the fixed quantities. She also had furniture, such as +table-covers, antimacassars, cushions, rugs, cuspidors, stools and the +like brought over and distributed; while, at the same time, she took up +the pencil and made a note of the names of the persons in charge of the +various departments, and of the articles taken over by the respective +servants, in entries remarkable for the utmost perspicacity. + +The whole body of servants received their charge and left; but they all +had work to go and attend to; not as in former times, when they were at +liberty to select for themselves what was convenient to do, while the +arduous work, which remained over, no one could be found to take in +hand. Neither was it possible for them in the various establishments to +any longer avail themselves of the confusion to carelessly mislay +things. In fact, visitors came and guests left, but everything after all +went off quietly, unlike the disorderly way which prevailed hitherto, +when there was no clue to the ravel; and all such abuses as indolence, +and losses, and the like were completely eradicated. + +Lady Feng, on her part, (perceiving) the weight her influence had in +enjoining the observance of her directions, was in her heart exceedingly +delighted. But as she saw, that Chia Chen was, in consequence of Mrs. +Yu's indisposition, even so much the more grieved as to take very little +to drink or to eat, she daily, with her own hands, prepared, in the +other mansion, every kind of fine congee and luscious small dishes, +which she sent over, in order that he might be tempted to eat. + +And Chia Lien had likewise given additional directions that every day +the finest delicacies should be taken into the ante-chamber, for the +exclusive use of lady Feng. + +Lady Feng was not one to shirk exertion and fatigue, so that, day after +day, she came over at the proper time, called the roll, and managed +business, sitting all alone in the ante-chamber, and not congregating +with the whole bevy of sisters-in-law. Indeed, even when relatives or +visitors came or went, she did not go to receive them, or see them off. + +This day was the thirty-fifth day, the very day of the fifth seven, and +the whole company of bonzes had just (commenced the services) for +unclosing the earth, and breaking Hell open; for sending a light to show +the way to the departed spirit; for its being admitted to an audience by +the king of Hell; for arresting all the malicious devils, as well as for +soliciting the soul-saving Buddha to open the golden bridge and to lead +the way with streamers. The Taoist priests were engaged in reverently +reading the prayers; in worshipping the Three Pure Ones and in +prostrating themselves before the Gemmy Lord. The disciples of +abstraction were burning incense, in order to release the hungered +spirits, and were reading the water regrets manual. There was also a +company of twelve nuns of tender years, got up in embroidered dresses, +and wearing red shoes, who stood before the coffin, silently reading all +the incantations for the reception of the spirit (from the lower +regions,) with the result that the utmost bustle and stir prevailed. + +Lady Feng, well aware that not a few guests would call on this day, was +quick to get out of bed at four sharp, to dress her hair and perform her +ablutions. After having completed every arrangement for the day, she +changed her costume, washed her hands, and swallowed a couple of +mouthfuls of milk. By the time she had rinsed her mouth, it was exactly +6.30; and Lai Wang's wife, at the head of a company of servants, had +been waiting a good long while, when lady Feng appeared in front of the +Entrance Hall, mounted her carriage and betook herself, preceded by a +pair of transparent horn lanterns, on which were written, in large type, +the three characters, Jung Kuo mansion, to the main entrance gate of the +Ning Household. The door lanterns shed brilliant rays from where they +were suspended; while on either side the lanterns, of uniform colours, +propped upright, emitted a lustrous light as bright as day. + +The servants of the family, got up in their mourning clothes, covered +the ground far and wide like a white sheet. They stood drawn in two +rows, and requested that the carriage should drive up to the main +entrance. The youths retired, and all the married women came forward, +and raising the curtain of the carriage, lady Feng alighted; and as with +one arm she supported herself on Feng Erh, two married women, with +lanterns in their hands, lighted the way. Pressed round by the servants, +lady Feng made her entry. The married women of the Ning mansion advanced +to greet her, and to pay their respects; and this over, lady Feng, with +graceful bearing, entered the Garden of Concentrated Fragrance. +Ascending the Spirit Hall, where the tablet was laid, the tears, as soon +as she caught sight of the coffin, trickled down her eyes like pearls +whose string had snapped; while the youths in the court, and their +number was not small, stood in a reverent posture, with their arms +against their sides, waiting to burn the paper. Lady Feng uttered one +remark, by way of command: "Offer the tea and burn the paper!" when the +sound of two blows on the gong was heard and the whole band struck up +together. A servant had at an early period placed a large armchair in +front of the tablet, and lady Feng sat down, and gave way to loud +lamentations. Promptly all those, who stood inside or outside, whether +high or low, male or female, took up the note, and kept on wailing and +weeping until Chia Chen and Mrs. Yu, after a time, sent a message to +advise her to withhold her tears; when at length lady Feng desisted. + +Lai Wang's wife served the tea; and when she had finished rinsing her +mouth, lady Feng got up; and, taking leave of all the members of the +clan, she walked all alone into the ante-chamber, where she ascertained, +in the order of their names, the number of the servants of every +denomination in there. They were all found to be present, with the +exception of one, who had failed to appear, whose duties consisted in +receiving and escorting the relatives and visitors. Orders were promptly +given to summon him, and the man appeared in a dreadful fright. "What!" +exclaimed lady Feng, as she forced a smile, "is it you who have been +remiss? Is it because you're more respectable than they that you don't +choose to listen to my words?" + +"Your servant," he pleaded, "has come at an early hour every day; and +it's only to-day that I come late by one step; and I entreat your +ladyship to forgive this my first offence." + +While yet he spoke, she perceived the wife of Wang Hsing, of the Jung +Kuo mansion, come forward and pop her head in to see what was going on; +but lady Feng did not let this man go, but went on to inquire of Wang +Hsing's wife what she had come for. + +Wang Hsing's wife drew near. "I've come," she explained, "to get an +order, so as to obtain some thread to make tassels for the carriages and +chairs." Saying this, she produced the permit and handed it up, +whereupon lady Feng directed Ts'ai Ming to read the contents aloud. "For +two large, sedan chairs," he said, "four small sedan chairs and four +carriages, are needed in all so many large and small tassels, each +tassel requiring so many catties of beads and thread." + +Lady Feng finding, after she had heard what was read, that the numbers +(and quantities) corresponded, forthwith bade Ts'ai Ming make the proper +entry; and when the order from the Jung Kuo mansion had been fetched, +and thrown at her, Wang Hsing's wife took her departure. + +Lady Feng was on the very point of saying something, when she espied +four managers of the Jung Kuo mansion walk in; all of whom wanted +permits to indent for stores. Having asked them to read out the list of +what they required, she ascertained that they wanted four kinds of +articles in all. Drawing attention to two items: "These entries," she +remarked, "are wrong; and you had better go again and make out the +account clearly, and then come and fetch a permit." + +With these words, she flung down the requisitions, and the two men went +their way in lower spirits than when they had come. + +Lady Feng then caught sight of the wife of Chang Ts'ai standing by, and +asked her what was her business, whereupon Chang Ts'ai's wife promptly +produced an indent. "The covers of the carriages and sedan chairs," she +reported, "have just been completed, and I've come to fetch the amount +due to the tailors for wages." + +Lady Feng, upon hearing her explanation, took over the indent, and +directed Ts'ai Ming to enter the items in the book. After Wang Hsing had +handed over the money, and obtained the receipt of the accountant, duly +signed, which tallied with the payment, he subsequently walked away in +company with Chang Ts'ai's wife. Lady Feng simultaneously proceeded to +give orders that another indent should be read, which was for money to +purchase paper with to paste on the windows of Pao-yue's outer +school-room, the repairs to which had been brought to completion, and as +soon as lady Feng heard the nature of the application, she there and +then gave directions that the permit should be taken over and an entry +made, and that the money should be issued after Chang Ts'ai's wife had +delivered everything clearly. + +"If to-morrow he were to come late," lady Feng then remarked, "and if +the day after, I were to come late; why by and by there'll be no one +here at all! I should have liked to have let you off, but if I be +lenient with you on this first instance, it will be hard for me, on the +occurrence of another offence, to exercise any control over the rest. +It's much better therefore that I should settle accounts with you." + +The moment she uttered these words, she put on a serious look, and gave +orders that he should be taken out and administered twenty blows with +the bamboo. When the servants perceived that lady Feng was in an angry +mood, they did not venture to dilly-dally, but dragged him out, and gave +him the full number of blows; which done, they came in to report that +the punishment had been inflicted. + +Lady Feng likewise threw down the Ning Mansion order and exclaimed, +addressing herself to Lai Sheng: "Cut him a month's wages and rice! and +tell them all to disperse, and have done with it!" + +All the servants at length withdrew to attend to their respective +duties, while the man too, who had been flogged, walked away, as he did +all he could to conceal his shame and stifle his tears. About this time +arrived and went, in an incessant stream, servants from both the Jung +and Ning mansions, bent upon applying for permits and returning permits, +and with one by one again did lady Feng settle accounts. And, as in due +course, the inmates of the Ning mansion came to know how terrible lady +Feng was, each and all were ever since so wary and dutiful that they did +not venture to be lazy. + +But without going into further details on this subject, we shall now +return to Pao-yue. Seeing that there were a lot of people about and +fearing lest Ch'in Chung might receive some offence, he lost no time in +coming along with him to sit over at lady Feng's. Lady Feng was just +having her repast, and upon seeing them arrive: "Your legs are long +enough, and couldn't you have come somewhat quicker!" she laughingly +observed. + +"We've had our rice, thanks," replied Pao-yue. + +"Have you had it," inquired lady Feng, "outside here, or over on the +other side?" + +"Would we eat anything with all that riff-raff?" exclaimed Pao-yue; +"we've really had it over there; in fact, I now come after having had +mine with dowager lady Chia." + +As he uttered these words, they took their seats. Lady Feng had just +finished her meal, when a married woman from the Ning mansion came to +get an order to obtain an advance of money to purchase incense and +lanterns with. + +"I calculated," observed lady Feng, "that you would come to-day to make +requisition, but I was under the impression that you had forgotten; had +you really done so you would certainly have had to get them on your own +account, and I would have been the one to benefit." + +"Didn't I forget? I did," rejoined the married woman as she smiled; "and +it's only a few minutes back that it came to my mind; had I been one +second later I wouldn't have been in time to get the things." + +These words ended, she took over the order and went off. Entries had, at +the time to be made in the books, and orders to be issued, and Ch'in +Chung was induced to interpose with a smirk, "In both these mansions of +yours, such orders are alike in use; but were any outsider stealthily to +counterfeit one and to abscond, after getting the money, what could ever +be done?" + +"In what you say," replied lady Feng, "you take no account of the laws +of the land." + +"How is it that from our house, no one comes to get any orders or to +obtain anything?" Pao-yue having inquired: "At the time they come to +fetch them," rejoined lady Feng, "you're still dreaming; but let me ask +you one thing, when will you two at last begin your evening course of +studies?" + +"Oh, I wish we were able to begin our studies this very day," Pao-yue +added; "that would be the best thing, but they're very slow in putting +the school-room in order, so that there's no help for it!" + +Lady Feng laughed. "Had you asked me," she remarked, "I can assure you +it would have been ready quick enough." + +"You too would have been of no use," observed Pao-yue, "for it will +certainly be ready by the time they ought to finish it in." + +"But in order that they should do the work," suggested lady Feng, "it's +also necessary that they should have the material, they can't do without +them; and if I don't give them any permits, it will be difficult to +obtain them." + +Pao-yue at these words readily drew near to lady Feng, and there and then +applied for the permits. "My dear sister," he added, "do give them the +permits to enable them to obtain the material and effect the repairs." + +"I feel quite sore from fatigue," ventured lady Feng, "and how can I +stand your rubbing against me? but compose your mind. They have this +very day got the paper, and gone to paste it; and would they, for +whatever they need, have still waited until they had been sent for? they +are not such fools after all!" + +Pao-yue would not believe it, and lady Feng at once called Ts'ai Ming to +look up the list, which she handed for Pao-yue's inspection; but while +they were arguing a servant came in to announce that Chao Erh, who had +gone to Su Chow, had returned, and lady Feng all in a flurry directed +that he should be asked to walk in. Chao Erh bent one knee and paid his +obeisance. + +"Why have you come back?" lady Feng readily inquired. + +"Mr. Secundus (Chia Lien)," he reported, "sent me back to tell you that +Mr. Lin (our dowager lady's) son-in-law, died on the third of the ninth +moon; that Master Secundus is taking Miss Lin along with him to escort +the coffin of Mr. Lin as far as Su Chow; and that they hope to be back +some time about the end of the year. Master despatched me to come and +announce the news, to bring his compliments, and to crave our old lady's +instructions as well as to see how you are getting on in my lady's home. +He also bade me take back to him a few long fur pelisses." + +"Have you seen any one else besides me?" lady Feng inquired. + +"I've seen every one," rejoined Chao Erh; and withdrew hastily at the +conclusion of this remark, out of the apartment, while lady Feng turned +towards Pao-yue with a smile and said, "Your cousin Lin can now live in +our house for ever." + +"Poor thing!" exclaimed Pao-yue. "I presume that during all these days +she has wept who knows how much;" and saying this he wrinkled his brow +and heaved a deep sigh. + +Lady Feng saw Chao Erh on his return, but as she could not very well, in +the presence of third persons, make minute inquiries after Chia Lien, +she had to continue a prey to inward solicitude till it was time to go +home, for, not having got through what she had to do, she was compelled +to wait patiently until she went back in the evening, when she again +sent word for Chao Erh to come in, and asked him with all minuteness +whether the journey had been pleasant throughout, and for full +particulars. That very night, she got in readiness the long pelisses, +which she herself, with the assistance of P'ing Erh, packed up in a +bundle; and after careful thought as to what things he would require, +she put them in the same bundle and committed them to Chao Erh's care. +She went on to solicitously impress upon Chao Erh to be careful in his +attendance abroad. "Don't provoke your master to wrath," she said, "and +from time to time do advise him not to drink too much wine; and don't +entice him to make the acquaintance of any low people; for if you do, +when you come back I will cut your leg off." + +The preparations were hurriedly and confusedly completed; and it was +already the fourth watch of the night when she went to sleep. But soon +again the day dawned, and after hastily performing her toilette and +ablutions, she came over to the Ning Mansion. + +As Chia Chen realised that the day for escorting the body away was +drawing nigh, he in person went out in a curricle, along with +geomancers, to the Temple of the Iron Fence to inspect a suitable place +for depositing the coffin. He also, point by point, enjoined the +resident managing-bonze, Se K'ung, to mind and get ready brand-new +articles of decoration and furniture, and to invite a considerable +number of bonzes of note to be at hand to lend their services for the +reception of the coffin. + +Se K'ung lost no time in getting ready the evening meal, but Chia Chen +had, in fact, no wish for any tea or rice; and, as the day was far +advanced and he was not in time to enter the city, he had, after all, to +rest during that night as best he could in a "chaste" room in the +temple. The next morning, as soon as it was day, he hastened to come +into the city and to make every preparation for the funeral. He likewise +deputed messengers to proceed ahead to the Temple of the Iron Fence to +give, that very night, additional decorative touches to the place where +the coffin was to be deposited, and to get ready tea and all the other +necessaries, for the use of the persons who would be present at the +reception of the coffin. + +Lady Feng, seeing that the day was not far distant, also apportioned +duties and made provision for everything beforehand with circumspect +care; while at the same time she chose in the Jung mansion, such +carriages, sedan chairs and retinue as were to accompany the cortege, in +attendance upon madame Wang, and gave her mind furthermore to finding a +place where she herself could put up in at the time of the funeral. +About this very time, it happened that the consort of the Duke Shan Kuo +departed this life, and that mesdames Wang and Hsing had likewise to go +and offer sacrifices, and to follow the burial procession; that the +birthday occurred of the consort of Prince Hsi An; that presents had to +be forwarded on the occasion of this anniversary; and that the consort +of the Duke of Chen Kuo gave birth to a first child, a son, and +congratulatory gifts had, in like manner, to be provided. Besides, her +uterine brother Wang Jen was about to return south, with all his family, +and she had too to write her home letters, to send her reverent +compliments to her father and mother, as well as to get the things ready +that were to be taken along. There was also Ying Ch'un, who had +contracted some illness, and the doctor had every day to be sent for, +and medicines to be administered, the notes of the doctor to be looked +after, consisting of the bulletins of the diagnosis and the +prescriptions, with the result that the various things that had to be +attended to by lady Feng were so manifold that it would, indeed, be +difficult to give an exhaustive idea of them. + +In addition to all this, the day for taking the coffin away was close at +hand, so that lady Feng was so hard pressed for time that she had even +no desire for any tea to drink or anything to eat, and that she could +not sit or rest in peace. As soon as she put her foot into the Ning +mansion, the inmates of the Jung mansion would follow close upon her +heels; and the moment she got back into the Jung mansion, the servants +again of the Ning mansion would follow her about. In spite however of +this great pressure, lady Feng, whose natural disposition had ever been +to try and excel, was urged to strain the least of her energies, as her +sole dread was lest she should incur unfavourable criticism from any +one; and so excellent were the plans she devised, that every one in the +clan, whether high or low, readily conceded her unlimited praise. + +On the night of this day, the body had to be watched, and in the inner +suite of apartments two companies of young players as well as jugglers +entertained the relatives, friends and other visitors during the whole +of the night. Mrs. Yu was still laid up in the inside room, so that the +whole task of attending to and entertaining the company devolved upon +lady Feng alone, who had to look after everything; for though there +were, in the whole clan, many sisters-in-law, some there were too +bashful to speak, others too timid to stand on their feet; while there +were also those who were not accustomed to meeting company; and those +likewise who were afraid of people of high estate and shy of officials. +Of every kind there were, but the whole number of them could not come up +to lady Feng's standard, whose deportment was correct and whose speech +was according to rule. Hence it was that she did not even so much as +heed any of that large company, but gave directions and issued orders, +adopting any course of action which she fancied, just as if there were +no bystander. + +The whole night, the lanterns emitted a bright light and the fires +brilliant rays; while guests were escorted on their way out and +officials greeted on their way in; but of this hundredfold bustle and +stir nothing need, of course, be said. + +The next morning at the dawn of day, and at a propitious moment, +sixty-four persons, dressed all alike in blue, carried the coffin, +preceded by a streamer with the record in large characters: Coffin of +lady Ch'in, a lady of the fifth degree, (by marriage) of the Chia +mansion, deceased at middle age, consort of the grandson of the Ning Kuo +Duke with the first rank title of honour, (whose status is) a guard of +the Imperial antechamber, charged with the protection of the Inner +Palace and Roads in the Red Prohibited City. + +The various paraphernalia and ornaments were all brand-new, hurriedly +made for the present occasion, and the uniform lustrous brilliancy they +shed was sufficient to dazzle the eyes. + +Pao-chu, of course, observed the rites prescribed for unmarried +daughters, and dashed the bowl and walked by the coffin, as she gave way +to most bitter lamentations. + +At that time, among the officials who escorted the funeral procession, +were Niu Chi-tsung, the grandson of the Chen Kuo duke, who had now +inherited the status of earl of the first degree; Liu Fang, the grandson +of Liu Piao, duke of Li Kuo, who had recently inherited the rank of +viscount of the first class; Ch'en Jui-wen, a grandson of Ch'en Yi, duke +of Ch'i Kuo, who held the hereditary rank of general of the third +degree, with the prefix of majestic authority; Ma Shang, the grandson of +Ma K'uei, duke of Chih Kuo, by inheritance general of the third rank +with the prefix of majesty afar; Hou Hsiao-keng, an hereditary viscount +of the first degree, grandson of the duke of Hsiu Kuo, Hou Hsiao-ming by +name; while the death of the consort of the duke of Shan Kuo had obliged +his grandson Shih Kuang-chu to go into mourning so that he could not be +present. These were the six families which had, along with the two +households of Jung and Ning, been, at one time, designated the eight +dukes. + +Among the rest, there were besides the grandson of the Prince of Nan An; +the grandson of the Prince of Hsi An; Shih Ting, marquis of Chung Ching; +Chiang Tzu-ning, an hereditary baron of the second grade, grandson of +the earl of P'ing Yuan; Hsieh K'un, an hereditary baron of the second +order and Captain of the Metropolitan camp, grandson of the marquis of +Ting Ch'ang: Hsi Chien-hui, an hereditary baron of the second rank, a +grandson of the marquis of Nang Yang; Ch'in Liang, in command of the +Five Cities, grandson of the marquis of Ching T'ien. The remainder were +Wei Chi, the son of the earl of Chin Hsiang; Feng Tzu-ying, the son of a +general, whose prefix was supernatural martial spirit; Ch'en Yeh-chuen, +Wei Jo-lan and others, grandsons and sons of princes who could not be +enumerated. + +In the way of ladies, there were also in all about ten large official +sedan chairs full of them, thirty or forty private chairs, and including +the official and non-official chairs, and carriages containing inmates +of the household, there must have been over a hundred and ten; so that +with the various kinds of paraphernalia, articles of decoration and +hundreds of nick-nacks, which preceded, the vast expanse of the cortege +covered a continuous line extending over three or four li. + +They had not been very long on their way, when they reached variegated +sheds soaring high by the roadside, in which banquets were spread, +feasts laid out, and music discoursed in unison. These were the viatory +sacrificial offerings contributed by the respective families. The first +shed contained the sacrificial donations of the mansion of the Prince of +Tung P'ing; the second shed those of the Prince of Nan An; the third +those of the Prince of Hsi Ning, and the fourth those of the Prince of +Pei Ching. + +Indeed of these four Princes, the reputation enjoyed in former days by +the Prince of Pei Ching had been the most exalted, and to this day his +sons and grandsons still succeeded to the inheritance of the princely +dignity. The present incumbent of the Princedom of Pei Ching, Shih Jung, +had not as yet come of age, but he was gifted with a presence of +exceptional beauty, and with a disposition condescending and genial. At +the demise, recently, of the consort of the eldest grandson of the +mansion of Ning Kuo, he, in consideration of the friendship which had +formerly existed between the two grandfathers, by virtue of which they +had been inseparable, both in adversity as well as in prosperity, +treating each other as if they had not been of different surnames, was +consequently induced to pay no regard to princely dignity or to his +importance, but having like the others paid, on the previous day, his +condolences and presented sacrificial offerings, he had further now +raised a shed wherein to offer libations. Having directed every one of +his subordinate officers to remain in this spot in attendance, he +himself went at the fifth watch to court, and when he acquitted himself +of his public duties he forthwith changed his attire for a mourning +costume, and came along, in an official sedan chair, preceded by gongs +and umbrellas. Upon reaching the front of the shed the chair was +deposited on the ground, and as his subordinate officers pressed on +either side and waited upon him, neither the military nor the populace, +which composed the mass of people, ventured to make any commotion. In a +short while, the long procession of the Ning mansion became visible, +spreading far and wide, covering in its course from the north, the whole +ground like a silver mountain. At an early hour, the forerunners, +messengers and other attendants on the staff of the Ning mansion +apprised Chia Chen (of the presence of the sheds), and Chia Chen with +all alacrity gave orders that the foremost part of the cortege should +halt. Attended by Chia She and Chia Chen, the three of them came with +hurried step to greet (the Prince of Pei Ching), whom they saluted with +due ceremony. Shih Jung, who was seated in his sedan chair, made a bow +and returned their salutations with a smile, proceeding to address them +and to treat them, as he had done hitherto, as old friends, without any +airs of self-importance. + +"My daughter's funeral has," observed Chia Chen, "put your Highness to +the trouble of coming, an honour which we, though noble by birth, do not +deserve." + +Shih Jung smiled. "With the terms of friendship," he added, "which have +existed for so many generations (between our families), is there any +need for such apologies?" + +Turning his head round there and then, he gave directions to the senior +officer of his household to preside at the sacrifices and to offer +libations in his stead; and Chia She and the others stood together on +one side and made obeisance in return, and then came in person again and +gave expression to their gratitude for his bounty. + +Shih Jung was most affable and complaisant. "Which is the gentleman," he +inquired of Chia Chen, "who was born with a piece of jade in his mouth? +I've long had a wish to have the pleasure of seeing him, and as he's +sure to be on the spot on an occasion like this, why shouldn't you +invite him to come round?" + +Chia Chen speedily drew back, and bidding Pao-yue change his mourning +clothes, he led him forward and presented him. + +Pao-yue had all along heard that Shih Jung was a worthy Prince, perfect +in ability as well as in appearance, pleasant and courteous, not bound +down by any official custom or state rite, so that he had repeatedly +felt a keen desire to meet him. With the sharp control, however, which +his father exercised over him, he had not been able to gratify his wish. +But on this occasion, he saw on the contrary that he came to call him, +and it was but natural that he should be delighted. Whilst advancing, he +scrutinised Shih Jung with the corner of his eye, who, seated as he was +in the sedan chair, presented an imposing sight. + +But, reader, what occurred on his approach is not yet known, but listen +to the next chapter, which will divulge it. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + Lady Peng, nee Wang, exercises her authority in the Iron Fence Temple. + Ch'in Ching-ch'ing (Ch'ing Chung) amuses himself in the Man-t'ou + (Bread) nunnery. + + +But we shall now resume our story. When Pao-yue raised his eyes, he +noticed that Shih Jung, Prince of Pei Ching, wore on his head a princely +cap with pure white tassels and silvery feathers, that he was appareled +in a white ceremonial robe, (with a pattern representing) the toothlike +ripple of a river and the waters of the sea, embroidered with +five-clawed dragons; and that he was girded with a red leather belt, +inlaid with white jade. That his face was like a beauteous gem; that his +eyes were like sparkling stars; and that he was, in very truth, a human +being full of graceful charms. + +Pao-yue hastily pressed forward and made a reverent obeisance, and Shih +Jung lost no time in extending his arms from inside the sedan-chair, and +embracing him. At a glance, he saw that Pao-yue had on his head a silver +cap, to which the hair was attached, that he had, round his forehead, a +flap on which were embroidered a couple of dragons issuing from the sea, +that he wore a white archery-sleeved robe, ornamented with dragons, and +that his waist was encircled by a silver belt, inlaid with pearls; that +his face resembled vernal flowers and that his eyes were like drops of +lacquer. + +Shih Jung smiled. "Your name is," he said, "no trumped-up story; for +you, verily, resemble a precious gem; but where's the valuable trinket +you had in your mouth?" he inquired. + +As soon as Pao-yue heard this inquiry, he hastened to produce the jade +from inside his clothes and to hand it over to Shih Jung. Shih Jung +minutely examined it; and having also read the motto on it, he +consequently ascertained whether it was really efficacious or not. + +"It's true that it's said to be," Pao-yue promptly explained, "but it +hasn't yet been put to the test." + +Shih Jung extolled it with unbounded praise, and, as he did so, he set +the variegated tassels in proper order, and, with his own hands, +attached it on to Pao-yue's neck. Taking also his hand in his, he +inquired of Pao-yue what was his age? and what books he was reading at +present, to each of which questions Pao-yue gave suitable answer. + +Shih Jung perceiving the perspicacity of his speech and the propriety of +his utterances, simultaneously turned towards Chia Chen and observed +with a smile on his face: "Your worthy son is, in very truth, like the +young of a dragon or like the nestling of a phoenix! and this isn't an +idle compliment which I, a despicable prince, utter in your venerable +presence! But how much more glorious will be, in the future, the voice +of the young phoenix than that of the old phoenix, it isn't easy to +ascertain." + +Chia Chen forced a smile: "My cur-like son," he replied, "cannot presume +to such bountiful praise and golden commendation; but if, by the virtue +of your Highness' excess of happiness, he does indeed realise your +words, he will be a source of joy to us all!" + +"There's one thing, however," continued Shih Jung; "with the excellent +abilities which your worthy scion possesses, he's sure, I presume, to be +extremely loved by her dowager ladyship, (his grandmother), and by all +classes. But for young men of our age it's a great drawback to be doated +upon, for with over-fondness, we cannot help utterly frustrating the +benefits of education. When I, a despicable prince, was young, I walked +in this very track, and I presume that your honourable son cannot +likewise but do the same. By remaining at home, your worthy scion will +find it difficult to devote his attention to study; and he will not reap +any harm, were he to come, at frequent intervals, to my humble home; for +though my deserts be small, I nevertheless enjoy the great honour of the +acquaintance of all the scholars of note in the Empire, so that, +whenever any of them visit the capital, not one of them is there who +does not lower his blue eyes upon me. Hence it is that in my mean abode, +eminent worthies rendezvous; and were your esteemed son to come, as +often as he can, and converse with them and meet them, his knowledge +would, in that case, have every opportunity of making daily strides +towards improvement." + +Chia Chen speedily bent his body and expressed his acquiescence, by way +of reply; whereupon Shih Jung went further, and taking off from his +wrist a chaplet of pearls, he presented it to Pao-yue. + +"This is the first time we meet," he observed. "Our meeting was so +unexpected that I have no suitable congratulatory present to offer you. +This was conferred upon me by His Majesty, and is a string of +chaplet-pearls, scented with Ling Ling, which will serve as a temporary +token of respectful congratulations." + +Pao-yue hastened to receive it from his hands, and turning round, he +reverently presented it to Chia Chen. Chia Chen and Pao-yue jointly +returned thanks; and forthwith Chia She, Chia Chen and the rest came +forward in a body, and requested the Prince to turn his chair homewards. + +"The departed," expostulated Shih Jung, "has already ascended the +spiritual regions, and is no more a mortal being in this dusty world +exposed to vicissitude like you and I. Although a mean prince like me +has been the recipient of the favour of the Emperor, and has +undeservedly been called to the princely inheritance, how could I +presume to go before the spiritual hearse and return home?" + +Chia She and the others, perceiving how persistent he was in his refusal +had no course but to take their leave, express their sense of gratitude +and to rejoin the cortege. They issued orders to their servants to stop +the band, and to hush the music, and making the procession go by, they +at length left the way clear for Shih Jung to prosecute his way. + +But we will now leave him and resume our account of the funeral of the +Ning mansion. All along its course the road was plunged in unusual +commotion. As soon as they reached the city gates Chia She, Chia Cheng, +Chia Chen, and the others again received donations from all their fellow +officers and subordinates, in sacrificial sheds erected by their +respective families, and after they returned thanks to one after +another, they eventually issued from the city walls, and proceeded +eventually along the highway, in the direction of the Temple of the Iron +Fence. + +Chia Chen, at this time, went, together with Chia Jung, up to all their +seniors, and pressed them to get into their sedan chairs, and to ride +their horses; and Chia She and all of the same age as himself were +consequently induced to mount into their respective carriages or chairs. +Chia Chen and those of the same generation were likewise about to ride +their horses, when lady Feng, through her solicitude on Pao-yue's +account, gave way to fears lest now that they had reached the open +country, he should do as he pleased, and not listen to the words of any +of the household, and lest Chia Chen should not be able to keep him in +check; and, as she dreaded that he might go astray, she felt compelled +to bid a youth call him to her; and Pao-yue had no help but to appear +before her curricle. + +"My dear brother," lady Feng remarked smiling, "you are a respectable +person, and like a girl in your ways, and shouldn't imitate those +monkeys on horseback! do get down and let both you and I sit together in +this carriage; and won't that be nice?" + +At these words, Pao-yue readily dismounted and climbed up into the +carriage occupied by lady Feng; and they both talked and laughed, as +they continued their way. + +But not a long time elapsed before two men, on horseback, were seen +approaching from the opposite direction. Coming straight up to lady +Feng's vehicle they dismounted, and said, as they leaned on the sides of +her carriage, "There's a halting place here, and will it not please your +ladyship to have a rest and change?" + +Lady Feng directed them to ask the two ladies Hsing and Wang what they +would like to do, and the two men explained: "These ladies have +signified that they had no desire to rest, and they wish your ladyship +to suit your convenience." + +Lady Feng speedily issued orders that they should have a rest, before +they prosecuted their way, and the servant youth led the harnessed +horses through the crowd of people and came towards the north, while +Pao-yue, from inside the carriage, urgently asked that Mr. Ch'in should +be requested to come. + +Ch'in Chung was at this moment on horseback following in the track of +his father's carriage, when unexpectedly he caught sight of Pao-yue's +page, come at a running pace and invite him to have some refreshment. +Ch'in Chung perceived from a distance that the horse, which Pao-yue had +been riding, walked behind lady Feng's vehicle, as it went towards the +north, with its saddle and bridles all piled up, and readily concluding +that Pao-yue must be in the same carriage with that lady, he too turned +his horse and came over in haste and entered, in their company, the door +of a farm-house. + +This dwelling of the farmer's did not contain many rooms so that the +women and girls had nowhere to get out of the way; and when the village +lasses and country women perceived the bearing and costumes of lady +Feng, Pao-yue, and Ch'in Chung, they were inclined to suspect that +celestial beings had descended into the world. + +Lady Feng entered a thatched house, and, in the first place, asked +Pao-yue and the rest to go out and play. Pao-yue took the hint, and, along +with Ch'in Chung, he led off the servant boys and went to romp all over +the place. + +The various articles in use among the farmers they had not seen before, +with the result that after Pao-yue had inspected them, he thought them +all very strange; but he could neither make out their names nor their +uses. But among the servant boys, there were those who knew, and they +explained to them, one after another, what they were called, as well as +what they were for. As Pao-yue, after this explanation, nodded his head; +"It isn't strange," he said, "that an old writer has this line in his +poetical works, 'Who can realise that the food in a bowl is, grain by +grain, all the fruit of labour.' This is indeed so!" As he spoke, they +had come into another house; and at the sight of a spinning wheel on a +stove-bed, they thought it still more strange and wonderful, but the +servant boys again told them that it was used for spinning the yarn to +weave cloth with, and Pao-yue speedily jumping on to the stove-bed, set +to work turning the wheel for the sake of fun, when a village lass of +about seventeen or eighteen years of age came forward, and asked them +not to meddle with it and spoil it. + +The servant boys promptly stopped her interference; but Pao-yue himself +desisted, as he added: "It's because I hadn't seen one before that I +came to try it for fun." + +"You people can't do it," rejoined the lass, "let me turn it for you to +see." + +Ch'in Chung secretly pulled Pao-yue and remarked, "It's great fun in this +village!" but Pao-yue gave him a nudge and observed, "If you talk +nonsense again, I'll beat you." Watching intently, as he uttered these +words, the village girl who started reeling the thread, and presented, +in very truth, a pretty sight. But suddenly an old woman from the other +side gave a shout. "My girl Secunda, come over at once;" and the lass +discarded the spinning-wheel and hastily went on her way. + +Pao-yue was the while feeling disappointed and unhappy, when he espied a +servant, whom lady Feng had sent, come and call them both in. Lady Feng +had washed her hands and changed her costume; and asked him whether he +would change or not, and Pao-yue, having replied "No! it doesn't matter +after all if I don't change," the female attendants served tea, cakes +and fruits and also poured the scented tea. Lady Feng and the others +drank their tea, and waiting until they had put the various articles by, +and made all the preparations, they promptly started to get into their +carriages. Outside, Wang Erh had got ready tips and gave them to the +people of the farm, and the farm women and all the inmates went up to +them to express their gratitude; but when Pao-yue came to look carefully, +he failed to see anything of the lass who had reeled the thread. But +they had not gone far before they caught sight of this girl Secunda +coming along with a small child in her arms, who, they concluded, was +her young brother, laughing and chatting, in company with a few young +girls. + +Pao-yue could not suppress the voice of love, but being seated in the +carriage, he was compelled to satisfy himself by following her with his +eyes. Soon however the vehicle sped on as rapidly as a cloud impelled by +the wind, so that when he turned his head round, there was already no +vestige to be seen of her; but, while they were bandying words, they had +unexpectedly overtaken the great concourse of the cortege. + +Likewise, at an early stage men were stationed ahead, with Buddhist +drums and gold cymbals, with streamers, and jewelled coverings; and the +whole company of bonzes, belonging to the Iron Fence Temple, had already +been drawn out in a line by the sides of the road. In a short while, +they reached the interior of the temple, where additional sacrifices +were offered and Buddhistic services performed; and where altars had +again been erected to burn incense on. The coffin was deposited in a +side room of the inner court; and Pao Chu got ready a bed-room in which +she could keep her watch. + +In the outer apartments, Chia Chen did the honours among the whole party +of relatives and friends, some of whom asked to be allowed to stay for +their meals, while others at this stage took their leave. And after they +had one by one returned thanks, the dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts +and barons, each in respective batches, (got up to go,) and they kept on +leaving from between 1 and 3 p.m. before they had finally all dispersed. + +In the inner Chambers, the ladies were solely entertained and attended +to by lady Feng. First to make a move were the consorts of officials; +and noon had also come, by the time the whole party of them had taken +their departure. Those that remained were simply a few relatives of the +same clan and others like them, who eventually left after the completion +of the three days' rationalistic liturgies. + +The two ladies Hsing and Wang, well aware at this time that lady Feng +could on no account return home, desired to enter the city at once; and +madame Wang wanted to take Pao-yue home; but Pao-yue, who had, on an +unexpected occasion, come out into the country, entertained, of course, +no wish to go back; and he would agree to nothing else than to stay +behind with lady Feng, so that madame Wang had no alternative but to +hand him over to her charge and to start. + +This Temple of the Iron Fence had, in fact, been erected in days gone +by, at the expense of the two dukes Ning and Jung; and there still +remained up to these days, acres of land, from which were derived the +funds for incense and lights for such occasions, on which the coffins of +any members, old or young, (who died) in the capital, had to be +deposited in this temple; and the inner and outer houses, in this +compound were all kept in readiness and good order, for the +accommodation of those who formed part of the cortege. + +At this time, as it happened, the descendants mustered an immense crowd, +and among them were poor and rich of various degrees, or with likes and +dislikes diametrically opposed. There were those, who, being in +straitened circumstances at home, and easily contented, readily took up +their quarters in the temple. And there were those with money and +position, and with extravagant ideas, who maintained that the +accommodation in the temple was not suitable, and, of course, went in +search of additional quarters, either in country houses, or in convents, +where they could have their meals and retire, after the ceremonies were +over. + +On the occasion of Mrs. Ch'in's funeral, all the members of the clan put +up temporarily in the Iron Fence Temple; lady Feng alone looked down +upon it as inconvenient, and consequently despatched a servant to go and +tell Ch'ing Hsue, a nun in the Bread Convent, to empty two rooms for her +to go and live in. + +This Bread Convent had at one time been styled the Shui Yueh nunnery +(water moon); but as good bread was made in that temple, it gave rise to +this nickname. + +This convent was not very distant from the Temple of the Iron Fence, so +that as soon as the bonzes brought their functions to a close, and the +sacrifice of evening was offered, Chia Chen asked Chia Jung to request +lady Feng to retire to rest; and as lady Feng perceived that there still +remained several sisters-in-law to keep company to the female relatives, +she readily, of her own accord, took leave of the whole party, and, +along with Pao-yue and Ch'in Chung, came to the Water Moon Convent. + +Ch'in Yeh, it must be noticed, was advanced in years and a victim to +many ailments, so that he was unable to remain in the temple long, and +he bade Ch'in Chung tarry until the coffin had been set in its resting +place, with the result that Ch'in Chung came along, at the same time as +lady Feng and Pao-yue, to the Water Moon Convent, where Ch'ing Hsue +appeared, together with two neophytes, Chih Shan and Chih Neng, to +receive them. After they had exchanged greetings, lady Feng and the +others entered the "chaste" apartments to change their clothes and wash +their hands; and when they had done, as she perceived how much taller in +stature Chih Neng had grown and how much handsomer were her features, +she felt prompted to inquire, "How is it that your prioress and +yourselves haven't been all these days as far as our place?" + +"It's because during these days we haven't had any time which we could +call our own," explained Ch'ing Hsue. "Owing to the birth of a son in Mr. +Hu's mansion, dame Hu sent over about ten taels and asked that we should +invite several head-nuns to read during three days the service for the +churching of women, with the result that we've been so very busy and had +so little leisure, that we couldn't come over to pay our respects to +your ladyship." + +But leaving aside the old nun, who kept lady Feng company, we will now +return to the two lads Pao-yue and Ch'in Chung. They were up to their +pranks in the main building of the convent, when seeing Chih Neng come +over: "Here's Neng Erh," Pao-yue exclaimed with a smile. + +"Why notice a creature like her?" remarked Ch'in Chung; to which Pao-yue +rejoined laughingly: "Don't be sly! why then did you the other day, when +you were in the old lady's rooms, and there was not a soul present, hold +her in your arms? and do you want to fool me now ?" + +"There was nothing of the kind," observed Ch'in Chung smiling. + +"Whether there was or not," replied Pao-yue, "doesn't concern me; but if +you will stop her and tell her to pour a cup of tea and bring it to me +to drink, I'll then keep hands off." + +"This is indeed very strange!" Ch'in Chung answered laughing; "do you +fear that if you told her to pour you one, that she wouldn't; and what +need is there that I should tell her?" + +"If I ask her," Pao-yue observed, "to pour it, she wouldn't be as ready +as she would were you to tell her about it." + +Ch'in Chung had no help but to speak. "Neng Erh!" he said, "bring a cup +of tea." + +This Neng Erh had, since her youth, been in and out of the Jung mansion, +so that there was no one that she did not know; and she had also, time +after time, romped and laughed with Pao-yue and Ch'in Chung. Being now +grown up she gradually came to know the import of love, and she readily +took a fancy to Ch'in Chung, who was an amorous being. Ch'in Chung too +returned her affection, on account of her good looks; and, although he +and she had not had any very affectionate tete-a-tetes, they had, +however, long ago come to understand each other's feelings and wishes. + +Chih Neng walked away and returned after having poured the tea. + +"Give it to me," Ch'in Chung cried out smirkingly; while Pao-yue likewise +shouted: "Give it to me." + +Chih Neng compressed her lips and sneeringly rejoined, "Are you going to +have a fight even over a cup of tea? Is it forsooth likely that there's +honey in my hand?" + +Pao-yue was the first to grasp and take over the cup, but while drinking +it, he was about to make some inquiry, when he caught sight of Chih +Shan, who came and called Chih Neng away to go and lay the plates with +fruit on the table. Not much time elapsed before she came round to +request the two lads to go and have tea and refreshments; but would they +eat such things as were laid before them? They simply sat for a while +and came out again and resumed their play. + +Lady Feng too stayed for a few moments, and then returned, with the old +nun as her escort, into the "unsullied" rooms to lie down. By this time, +all the matrons and married women discovered that there was nothing else +to be done, and they dispersed in succession, retiring each to rest. +There only remained in attendance several young girls who enjoyed her +confidence, and the old nun speedily availed herself of the opportunity +to speak. "I've got something," she said, "about which I mean to go to +your mansion to beg of madame Wang; but I'll first request you, my lady, +to tell me how to set to work." + +"What's it?" ascertained lady Feng. + +"O-mi-to-fu!" exclaimed the old nun, "It's this; in days gone by, I +first lived in the Ch'ang An district. When I became a nun and entered +the monastery of Excellent Merit, there lived, at that time, a +subscriber, Chang by surname, a very wealthy man. He had a daughter, +whose infant name was Chin Ko; the whole family came in the course of +that year to the convent I was in, to offer incense, and as luck would +have it they met Li Ya-nei, a brother of a secondary wife of the Prefect +of the Ch'ang An Prefecture. This Li Ya-nei fell in love at first sight +with her, and would wed Chin Ko as his wife. He sent go-betweens to ask +her in marriage, but, contrary to his expectations, Chin Ko had already +received the engagement presents of the son of the ex-Major of the +Ch'ang An Prefecture. The Chang family, on the other hand, were afraid +that if they withdrew from the match, the Major would not give up his +claim, and they therefore replied that she was already promised to +another. But, who would have thought it, this Mr. Li was seriously bent +upon marrying the young lady. But while the Chang family were at a loss +what plan to devise, and both parties were in a dilemma, the family of +the Major came unexpectedly to hear of the news; and without even +looking thoroughly into the matter, they there and then had recourse to +insult and abuse. 'Is a girl,' they insinuated, 'to be promised to the +sons of several families!' And obstinately refusing to allow the +restitution of the betrothal presents, they at once had recourse to +litigation and brought an action (against the girl's people.) That +family was at their wits' end, and had no alternative but to find some +one to go to the capital to obtain means of assistance; and, losing all +patience, they insisted upon the return of the presents. I believe that +the present commander of the troops at Ch'ang An, Mr. Yuen, is on +friendly terms with your honourable family, and could one solicit madame +Wang to put in a word with Mr. Chia Cheng to send a letter and ask Mr. +Yuen to speak to that Major, I have no fear that he will not agree. +Should (your ladyship) be willing to take action, the Chang family are +even ready to present all they have, though it may entail the ruin of +their estate." + +"This affair is, it's true, of no great moment," lady Feng replied +smiling, after hearing this appeal; "but the only thing is that madame +Wang does no longer attend to matters of this nature." + +"If madame doesn't heed them," suggested the old nun, "you, my lady, can +safely assume the direction." + +"I'm neither in need of any money to spend," added lady Feng with a +smirk, "nor do I undertake such matters!" + +These words did not escape Ching Hsue's ear; they scattered to the winds +her vain hopes. After a minute or so she heaved a sigh. + +"What you say may be true enough," she remarked; "but the Chang family +are also aware that I mean to come and make my appeal to your mansion; +and were you now not to manage this affair, the Chang family having no +idea that the lack of time prevents any steps being taken and that no +importance is attached to their presents, it will appear, on the +contrary, as if there were not even this little particle of skill in +your household." + +At these words lady Feng felt at once inspirited. "You've known of old," +she added, "that I've never had any faith in anything concerning +retribution in the Court of Judgment in the unseen or in hell; and that +whatever I say that I shall do, that I do; tell them therefore to bring +three thousand taels; and I shall then remedy this grievance of theirs." + +The old nun upon hearing this remark was so exceedingly delighted, that +she precipitately exclaimed, "They've got it, they've got it! there will +be no difficulty about it." + +"I'm not," lady Feng went on to add, "like those people, who afford help +and render assistance with an eye to money; these three thousand taels +will be exclusively devoted for the travelling expenses of those youths, +who will be sent to deliver messages and for them to make a few cash for +their trouble; but as for me I don't want even so much as a cash. In +fact I'm able at this very moment to produce as much as thirty thousand +taels." + +The old nun assented with alacrity, and said by way of reply, "If that +be so, my lady, do display your charitable bounty at once to-morrow and +bring things to an end." + +"Just see," remarked lady Feng, "how hard pressed I am; which place can +do without me? but since I've given you my word, I shall, needless to +say, speedily bring the matter to a close." + +"A small trifle like this," hinted the old nun, "would, if placed in the +hands of any one else, flurry her to such an extent that she would be +quite at a loss what to do; but in your hands, my lady, even if much +more were superadded, it wouldn't require as much exertion as a wave of +your hand. But the proverb well says: 'that those who are able have much +to do;' for madame Wang, seeing that your ladyship manages all concerns, +whether large or small, properly, has still more shoved the burden of +everything on your shoulders, my lady; but you should, it's but right, +also take good care of your precious health." + +This string of flattery pleased lady Feng more and more, so that +heedless of fatigue she went on to chat with still greater zest. + +But, thing unthought of, Ch'in Chung availed himself of the darkness, as +well as of the absence of any one about, to come in quest of Chih Neng. +As soon as he reached the room at the back, he espied Chih Neng all +alone inside washing the tea cups; and Ch'in Chung forthwith seized her +in his arms and implanted kisses on her cheek. Chih Neng got in a +dreadful state, and stamping her feet, cried, "What are you up to?" and +she was just on the point of shouting out, when Ch'in Chung rejoined: +"My dear girl! I'm nearly dead from impatience, and if you don't again +to-day accept my advances, I shall this very moment die on this spot." + +"What you're bent upon," added Chih Neng, "can't be effected; not unless +you wait until I've left this den and parted company from these people, +when it will be safe enough." + +"This is of course easy enough!" remonstrated Ch'in Chung; "but the +distant water cannot extinguish the close fire!" + +As he spoke, with one puff, he put out the light, plunging the whole +room in pitch darkness; and seizing Chih Neng, he pushed her on to the +stove-couch and started a violent love affair. Chih Neng could not, +though she strained every nerve, escape his importunities; nor could she +very well shout, so that she felt compelled to humour him; but while he +was in the midst of his ecstatic joy, they perceived a person walk in, +who pressed both of them down, without uttering even so much as a sound, +and plunged them both in such a fright that their very souls flew away +and their spirits wandered from their bodies; and it was after the third +party had burst out laughing with a spurting sound that they eventually +became aware that it was Pao-yue; when, springing to his feet +impetuously, Ch'in Chung exclaimed full of resentment, "What's this that +you're up to!" + +"If you get your monkey up," retorted Pao-yue, "why, then let you and I +start bawling out;" which so abashed Chih Neng that she availed herself +of the gloomy light to make her escape; while Pao-yue had dragged Ch'in +Chung out of the room and asked, "Now then, do you still want to play +the bully!" + +"My dear fellow," pleaded Ch'in Chung smilingly, "whatever you do don't +shout out and let every one know; and all you want, I'll agree to." + +"We needn't argue just now," Pao-yue observed with a grin; "wait a while, +and when all have gone to sleep, we can minutely settle accounts +together." + +Soon it was time to ease their clothes, and go to bed; and lady Feng +occupied the inner room; Ch'in Chung and Pao-yue the outer; while the +whole ground was covered with matrons of the household, who had spread +their bedding, and sat watching. As lady Feng entertained fears that the +jade of Spiritual Perception might be lost, she waited until Pao-yue fell +asleep, when having directed a servant to bring it to her, she placed it +under the side of her own pillow. + +What accounts Pao-yue settled with Ch'in Chung cannot be ascertained; and +as in the absence of any positive proof what is known is based upon +surmises, we shall not venture to place it on record. + +Nothing worth noticing occurred the whole night; but the next day, as +soon as the morning dawned, dowager lady Chia and madame Wang promptly +despatched servants to come and see how Pao-yue was getting on; and to +tell him likewise to put on two pieces of extra clothing, and that if +there was nothing to be done it would be better for him to go back. + +But was it likely that Pao-yue would be willing to go back? Besides Ch'in +Chung, in his inordinate passion for Chih Neng, instigated Pao-yue to +entreat lady Feng to remain another day. Lady Feng pondered in her own +mind that, although the most important matters connected with the +funeral ceremonies had been settled satisfactorily, there were still a +few minor details, for which no provision had been made, so that could +she avail herself of this excuse to remain another day would she not win +from Chia Chen a greater degree of approbation, in the second place, +would she not be able further to bring Ch'ing Hsue's business to an +issue, and, in the third place, to humour Pao-yue's wish? In view of +these three advantages, which would accrue, "All that I had to do, I +have done," she readily signified to Pao-yue, "and if you be bent upon +running about in here, you'll unavoidably place me in still greater +trouble; so that we must for certain start homewards to-morrow." + +"My dear cousin, my own dear cousin," urgently entreated Pao-yue, when he +heard these words, "let's stay only this one day, and to-morrow we can +go back without fail." + +They actually spent another night there, and lady Feng availed herself +of their stay to give directions that the case which had been entrusted +to her the previous day by the old nun should be secretly communicated +to Lai Wang Erh. Lai Wang's mind grasped the import of all that was said +to him, and, having entered the city with all despatch, he went in +search of the gentleman, who acted as secretary (in Mr. Yuen's office), +pretending that he had been directed by Mr. Chia Lien to come and ask +him to write a letter and to send it that very night to the Ch'ang An +magistrate. The distance amounted to no more than one hundred li, so +that in the space of two days everything was brought to a satisfactory +settlement. The general, whose name was Yuen Kuang, had been for a long +time under obligations to the Chia family, so that he naturally could +not refuse his co-operation in such small trifles. When he had handed +his reply, Wang Erh started on his way back; where we shall leave him +and return to lady Feng. + +Having spent another day, she on the morrow took leave of the old nun, +whom she advised to come to the mansion after the expiry of three days +to fetch a reply. + +Ch'in Chung and Chih Neng could not, by any means, brook the separation, +and they secretly agreed to a clandestine assignation; but to these +details we need not allude with any minuteness; sufficient to say that +they had no alternative but to bear the anguish and to part. + +Lady Feng crossed over again to the temple of the Iron Fence and +ascertained how things were progressing. But as Pao Chu was obstinate in +her refusal to return home, Chia Chen found himself under the necessity +of selecting a few servants to act as her companions. But the reader +must listen to what is said in the next chapter by way of explanation. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + Chia Yuan-ch'un is, on account of her talents, selected to enter the + Feng Ts'ao Palace. + Ch'in Ching-ch'ing departs, in the prime of life, by the yellow spring + road. + + +But we must now return to the two lads, Ch'in Chung and Pao-yue. After +they had passed, along with lady Feng from the Temple of the Iron Fence, +whither she had gone to see how things were getting on, they entered the +city in their carriages. On their arrival at home, they paid their +obeisance to dowager lady Chia, madame Wang and the other members of the +family, whence they returned to their own quarters, where nothing worth +mentioning transpired during the night. + +On the next day, Pao-yue perceiving that the repairs to the outer +schoolroom had been completed, settled with Ch'in Chung that they should +have evening classes. But as it happened that Ch'in Chung, who was +naturally of an extremely delicate physique, caught somewhat of a chill +in the country and clandestinely indulged, besides, in an intimacy with +Chih Neng, which unavoidably made him fail to take good care of himself, +he was, shortly after his return, troubled with a cough and a feverish +cold, with nausea for drink and food, and fell into such an extremely +poor state of health that he simply kept indoors and nursed himself, and +was not in a fit condition to go to school. Pao-yue's spirits were +readily damped, but as there was likewise no remedy he had no other +course than to wait until his complete recovery, before he could make +any arrangements. + +Lady Feng had meanwhile received a reply from Yuen Kuang, in which he +informed her that everything had been satisfactorily settled, and the +old nun apprised the Chang family that the major had actually suppressed +his indignation, hushed his complaints, and taken back the presents of +the previous engagement. But who would have ever anticipated that a +father and mother, whose hearts were set upon position and their +ambition upon wealth, could have brought up a daughter so conscious of +propriety and so full of feeling as to seize the first opportunity, +after she had heard that she had been withdrawn from her former +intended, and been promised to the Li family, to stealthily devise a way +to commit suicide, by means of a handkerchief. The son of the Major, +upon learning that Chin Ko had strangled herself, there and then jumped +into the river and drowned himself, as he too was a being full of love. +The Chang and Li families were, sad to relate, very much cut up, and, in +very truth, two lives and money had been sacrificed all to no use. + +Lady Feng, however, during this while, quietly enjoyed the three +thousand taels, and madame Wang did not have even so much as the +faintest idea of the whole matter. But ever since this occasion, lady +Feng's audacity acquired more and more strength; and the actions of this +kind, which she, in after days, performed, defy enumeration. + +One day, the very day on which Chia Cheng's birthday fell, while the +members of the two households of Ning and Jung were assembled together +offering their congratulations, and unusual bustle and stir prevailed, a +gatekeeper came in, at quite an unexpected moment, to announce that Mr. +Hsia, Metropolitan Head Eunuch of the six palaces, had come with the +special purpose of presenting an edict from his Majesty; a bit of news +which plunged Chia She, Chia Cheng and the whole company into great +consternation, as they could not make out what was up. Speedily +interrupting the theatrical performance, they had the banquet cleared, +and the altar laid out with incense, and opening the centre gate they +fell on their knees to receive the edict. + +Soon they caught sight of the head eunuch, Hsia Ping-chung, advancing on +horseback, and besides himself, a considerable retinue of eunuchs. The +eunuch Hsia did not, in fact, carry any mandate or present any decree; +but straightway advancing as far as the main hall, he dismounted, and, +with a face beaming with smiles, he walked into the Hall and took his +stand on the southern side. + +"I have had the honour," he said, "of receiving a special order to at +once summon Chia Cheng to present himself at Court and be admitted in +His Majesty's presence in the Lin Ching Hall." + +When he had delivered this message, he did not so much as take any tea, +but forthwith mounted his horse and took his leave. + +Chia Cheng and the others could not even conceive what omen this summons +implied, but he had no alternative but to change his clothes with all +haste and to present himself at Court, while dowager lady Chia and the +inmates of the whole household were, in their hearts, a prey to such +perplexity and uncertainty that they incessantly despatched messengers +on flying steeds to go and bring the news. + +After the expiry of four hours, they suddenly perceived Lai Ta and three +or four other butlers run in, quite out of breath, through the +ceremonial gate and report the glad tidings. "We have received," they +added, "our master's commands, to hurriedly request her venerable +ladyship to take madame Wang and the other ladies into the Palace, to +return thanks for His Majesty's bounty;" and other words to the same +purport. + +Dowager lady Chia was, at this time, standing, with agitated heart, +under the verandah of the Large Hall waiting for tidings, whilst the two +ladies, mesdames Hsing and Wang, Mrs. Yu, Li Wan, lady Feng, Ying Ch'un +and her sisters, even up to Mrs. Hsueeh and the rest, were congregated in +one place ascertaining what was the news. Old lady Chia likewise called +Lai Ta in and minutely questioned him as to what had happened. "Your +servants," replied Lai Ta, "simply stood waiting outside the Lin Chuang +gate, so that we were in total ignorance of what was going on inside, +when presently the Eunuch Hsia came out and imparted to us the glad +tidings; telling us that the eldest of the young ladies in our household +had been raised, by His Majesty, to be an overseer in the Feng Ts'ao +Palace, and that he had, in addition, conferred upon her the rank of +worthy and virtuous secondary consort. By and by, Mr. Chia Cheng came +out and also told us the same thing. Master is now gone back again to +the Eastern Palace, whither he requests your venerable ladyship to go at +once and offer thanks for the Imperial favour." + +When old lady Chia and the other members of the family heard these +tidings they were at length reassured in their minds, and so elated were +they all in one moment that joy was visible in their very faces. Without +loss of time, they commenced to don the gala dresses suitable to their +rank; which done, old lady Chia led the way for the two ladies, mesdames +Hsing and Wang, as well as for Mrs. Yu; and their official chairs, four +of them in all, entered the palace like a trail of fish; while Chia She +and Chia Chen, who had likewise changed their clothes for their court +dress, took Chia Se and Chia Jung along and proceeded in attendance upon +dowager lady Chia. + +Indeed, of the two households of Ning and Jung, there was not one, +whether high or low, woman or man, who was not in a high state of +exultation, with the exception of Pao-yue, who behaved just as if the +news had not reached his ears; and can you, reader, guess why? The fact +is that Chih Neng, of the Water Moon Convent, had recently entered the +city in a surreptitious manner in search of Ch'in Chung; but, contrary +to expectation, her visit came to be known by Ch'in Yeh, who drove Chih +Neng away and laid hold of Ch'in Chung and gave him a flogging. But this +outburst of temper of his brought about a relapse of his old complaint, +with the result that in three or five days, he, sad to say, succumbed. +Ch'in Chung had himself ever been in a delicate state of health and had +besides received a caning before he had got over his sickness, so that +when he now saw his aged father pass away from the consequences of a fit +of anger, he felt, at this stage, so full of penitence and distress that +the symptoms of his illness were again considerably aggravated. Hence it +was that Pao-yue was downcast and unhappy at heart, and that nothing +could, in spite of the promotion of Yuan Ch'un by imperial favour, +dispel the depression of his spirits. + +Dowager lady Chia and the rest in due course offered thanks and returned +home, the relatives and friends came to present their congratulations, +great stir and excitement prevailed during these few days in the two +mansions of Ning and Jung, and every one was in high glee; but he alone +looked upon everything as if it were nothing; taking not the least +interest in anything; and as this reason led the whole family to sneer +at him, the result was that he got more and more doltish. + +Luckily, however, Chia Lien and Tai-yue were on their way back, and had +despatched messengers, in advance, to announce the news that they would +be able to reach home the following day, so that when Pao-yue heard the +tidings, he was at length somewhat cheered. And when he came to +institute minute inquiries, he eventually found out: "that Chia Yue-ts'un +was also coming to the capital to have an audience with His Majesty, +that it was entirely because Wang Tzu-t'eng had repeatedly laid before +the Throne memorials recommending him that he was coming on this +occasion to wait in the metropolis for a vacancy which he could fill up; +that as he was a kinsman of Chia Lien's, acknowledging the same +ancestors as he did, and he stood, on the other hand, with Tai-yue, in +the relationship of tutor and pupil, he was in consequence following the +same road and coming as their companion; that Lin Ju-hai had already +been buried in the ancestral vault, and that every requirement had been +attended to with propriety; that Chia Lien, on this voyage to the +capital, would, had he progressed by the ordinary stages, have been over +a month before he could reach home, but that when he came to hear the +good news about Yuan Ch'un, he pressed on day and night to enter the +capital; and that the whole journey had been throughout, in every +respect, both pleasant and propitious." + +But Pao-yue merely ascertained whether Tai-yue was all right, and did not +even so much as trouble his mind with the rest of what he heard; and he +remained on the tiptoe of expectation, till noon of the morrow; when, in +point of fact, it was announced that Mr. Lien, together with Miss Lin, +had made their entrance into the mansion. When they came face to face, +grief and joy vied with each other; and they could not help having a +good cry for a while; after which followed again expressions of sympathy +and congratulations; while Pao-yue pondered within himself that Tai-yue +had become still more surpassingly handsome. + +Tai-yue had also brought along with her a good number of books, and she +promptly gave orders that the sleeping rooms should be swept, and that +the various nicknacks should be put in their proper places. She further +produced a certain quantity of paper, pencils and other such things, and +distributed them among Pao Ch'ai, Ying Ch'un, Pao-yue and the rest; and +Pao-yue also brought out, with extreme care, the string of Ling-ling +scented beads, which had been given to him by the Prince of Pei Ching, +and handed them, in his turn, to Tai-yue as a present. + +"What foul man has taken hold of them?" exclaimed Tai-yue. "I don't want +any such things;" and as she forthwith dashed them down, and would not +accept them, Pao-yue was under the necessity of taking them back. But for +the time being we will not allude to them, but devote our attention to +Chia Lien. + +Having, after his arrival home, paid his salutations to all the inmates, +he retired to his own quarters at the very moment that lady Feng had +multifarious duties to attend to, and had not even a minute to spare; +but, considering that Chia Lien had returned from a distant journey, she +could not do otherwise than put by what she had to do, and to greet him +and wait on him. + +"Imperial uncle," she said, in a jocose manner, when she realised that +there was no outsider present in the room, "I congratulate you! What +fatigue and hardship you, Imperial uncle, have had to bear throughout +the whole journey, your humble servant heard yesterday, when the courier +sent ahead came and announced that Your Highness would this day reach +this mansion. I have merely got ready a glass of mean wine for you to +wipe down the dust with, but I wonder, whether Your Highness will deign +to bestow upon it the lustre of your countenance, and accept it." + +Chia Lien smiled. "How dare I presume to such an honour," he added by +way of rejoinder; "I'm unworthy of such attention! Many thanks, many +thanks." + +P'ing Erh and the whole company of waiting-maids simultaneously paid +their obeisance to him, and this ceremony concluded, they presented tea. +Chia Lien thereupon made inquiries about the various matters, which had +transpired in their home after his departure, and went on to thank lady +Feng for all the trouble she had taken in the management of them. + +"How could I control all these manifold matters," remarked lady Feng; +"my experience is so shallow, my speech so dull and my mind so simple, +that if any one showed me a club, I would mistake it for a pin. Besides, +I'm so tender-hearted that were any one to utter a couple of glib +remarks, I couldn't help feeling my heart give way to compassion and +sympathy. I've had, in addition, no experience in any weighty questions; +my pluck is likewise so very small that when madame Wang has felt in the +least displeased, I have not been able to close my eyes and sleep. +Urgently did I more than once resign the charge, but her ladyship +wouldn't again agree to it; maintaining, on the contrary, that my object +was to be at ease, and that I was not willing to reap experience. +Leaving aside that she doesn't know that I take things so much to heart, +that I can scoop the perspiration in handfuls, that I daren't utter one +word more than is proper, nor venture to recklessly take one step more +than I ought to, you know very well which of the women servants, in +charge of the menage in our household, is easy to manage! If ever I make +the slightest mistake, they laugh at me and poke fun at me; and if I +incline a little one way, they show their displeasure by innuendoes; +they sit by and look on, they use every means to do harm, they stir up +trouble, they stand by on safe ground and look on and don't give a +helping hand to lift any one they have thrown over, and they are, one +and all of them, old hands in such tricks. I'm moreover young in years +and not able to keep people in check, so that they naturally don't show +any regard for me! What is still more ridiculous is that after the death +of Jung Erh's wife in that mansion, brother Chen, time and again, begged +madame Wang, on his very knees, to do him the favour to ask me to lend +him a hand for several days. I repeatedly signified my refusal, but her +ladyship gave her consent in order to oblige him, so that I had no help +but to carry out her wish; putting, as is my wont, everything +topsy-turvey, and making matters worse than they were; with the result +that brother Chen up to this day bears me a grudge and regrets having +asked for my assistance. When you see him to-morrow, do what you can to +excuse me by him. 'Young as she is,' tell him, 'and without experience +of the world, who ever could have instigated Mr. Chia Cheng to make such +a mistake as to choose her.'" + +While they were still chatting, they heard people talking in the outer +apartments, and lady Feng speedily inquired who it was. P'ing Erh +entered the room to reply. "Lady Hsueeh," she said, "has sent sister +Hsiang Ling over to ask me something; but I've already given her my +answer and sent her back." + +"Quite so," interposed Chia Lien with a smile. "A short while ago I went +to look up Mrs. Hsueeh and came face to face with a young girl, whose +features were supremely perfect, and as I suspected that, in our +household, there was no such person, I asked in the course of +conversation, Mrs. Hsueeh about her, and found out eventually that this +was the young waiting-maid they had purchased on their way to the +capital, Hsiang Ling by name, and that she had after all become an +inmate of the household of that big fool Hsueeh. Since she's had her hair +dressed as a married woman she does look so much more pre-eminently +beautiful! But that big fool Hsueeh has really brought contamination upon +her." + +"Ai!" exclaimed lady Feng, "here you are back from a trip to Suchow and +Hang Chow, where you should have seen something of the world! and have +you still an eye as envious and a heart so covetous? Well, if you wish +to bestow your love on her, there's no difficulty worth speaking of. +I'll take P'ing Erh over and exchange her for her; what do you say to +that? that old brother Hsueeh is also one of those men, who, while eating +what there is in the bowl, keeps an eye on what there is in the pan! For +the last year or so, as he couldn't get Hsiang Ling to be his, he made +ever so many distressing appeals to Mrs. Hsueeh; and Mrs. Hsueeh while +esteeming Hsiang Ling's looks, though fine, as after all a small matter, +(thought) her deportment and conduct so far unlike those of other girls, +so gentle and so demure that almost the very daughters of masters and +mistresses couldn't attain her standard, that she therefore went to the +trouble of spreading a banquet, and of inviting guests, and in open +court, and in the legitimate course, she gave her to him for a secondary +wife. But half a month had scarcely elapsed before he looked upon her +also as a good-for-nothing person as he did upon a large number of them! +I can't however help feeling pity for her in my heart." + +Scarcely had she time to conclude what she had to say when a youth, on +duty at the second gate, transmitted the announcement that Mr. Chia +Cheng was in the Library waiting for Mr. Secundus. At these words, Chia +Lien speedily adjusted his clothes, and left the apartment; and during +his absence, lady Feng inquired of P'ing Erh what Mrs. Hsueeh wanted a +few minutes back, that she sent Hsiang Ling round in such a hurry. + +"What Hsiang Ling ever came?" replied P'ing Erh. "I simply made use of +her name to tell a lie for the occasion. Tell me, my lady, (what's come +to) Wang Erh's wife? why she's got so bad that there's even no common +sense left in her!" Saying this she again drew near lady Feng's side, +and in a soft tone of voice, she continued: "That interest of yours, my +lady, she doesn't send later, nor does she send it sooner; but she must +send it round the very moment when master Secundus is at home! But as +luck would have it, I was in the hall, so that I came across her; +otherwise, she would have walked in and told your ladyship, and Mr. +Secundus would naturally have come to know about it! And our master +would, with that frame of mind of his, have fished it out and spent it, +had the money even been at the bottom of a pan full of oil! and were he +to have heard that my lady had private means, would he not have been +still more reckless in spending? Hence it was that, losing no time in +taking the money over, I had to tell her a few words which, who would +have thought, happened to be overheard by your ladyship; that's why, in +the presence of master Secundus, I simply explained that Hsiang Ling had +come!" + +These words evoked a smile from lady Feng. "Mrs. Hsueh, I thought to +myself," she observed, "knows very well that your Mr. Secundus has come, +and yet, regardless of propriety, she, instead (of keeping her at home), +sends some one over from her inner rooms! and it was you after all, you +vixen, playing these pranks!" + +As she uttered this remark, Chia Lien walked in, and lady Feng issued +orders to serve the wine and the eatables, and husband and wife took +their seats opposite to each other; but notwithstanding that lady Feng +was very partial to drink, she nevertheless did not have the courage to +indulge her weakness, but merely partook of some to keep him company. +Chia Lien's nurse, dame Chao, entered the room, and Chia Lien and lady +Feng promptly pressed her to have a glass of wine, and bade her sit on +the stove-couch, but dame Chao was obstinate in her refusal. P'ing Erh +and the other waiting-maids had at an early hour placed a square stool +next to the edge of the couch, where was likewise a small footstool, and +on this footstool dame Chao took a seat, whereupon Chia Lien chose two +dishes of delicacies from the table, which he handed her to place on the +square stool for her own use. + +"Dame Chao," lady Feng remarked, "couldn't very well bite through that, +for mind it might make her teeth drop! This morning," she therefore +asked of P'ing Erh, "I suggested that that shoulder of pork stewed with +ham was so tender as to be quite the thing to be given to dame Chao to +eat; and how is it you haven't taken it over to her? But go at once and +tell them to warm it and bring it in! Dame Chao," she went on, "just you +taste this Hui Ch'uean wine brought by your foster-son." + +"I'll drink it," replied dame Chao, "but you, my lady, must also have a +cup: what's there to fear? the one thing to guard against is any excess, +that's all! But I've now come over, not for any wine or eatables; on the +contrary, there's a serious matter, which I would ask your ladyship to +impress on your mind, and to show me some regard, for this master of +ours is only good to utter fine words, but when the time (to act) does +come, he forgets all about us! As I have had the good fortune to nurse +him in his infancy and to bring him up to this age, 'I too have grown +old in years,' I said to him, 'and all that belong to me are those two +sons, and do look upon them with some particular favour!' With any one +else I shouldn't have ventured to open my mouth, but him I anyway +entreated time and again on several occasions. His assent was of course +well and good, but up to this very moment he still withholds his help. +Now besides from the heavens has dropped such a mighty piece of good +luck; and in what place will there be no need of servants? that's why I +come to tell you, my lady, as is but right, for were I to depend upon +our master, I fear I shall even die of starvation." + +Lady Feng laughed. "You'd better," she suggested, "put those two elder +foster brothers of his both under my charge! But you've nursed that +foster-son from his babyhood, and don't you yet know that disposition of +his, how that he takes his skin and flesh and sticks it, (not on the +body of a relative), but, on the contrary, on that of an outsider and +stranger? (to Chia Lien.) Which of those foster brothers whom you have +now discarded, isn't clearly better than others? and were you to have +shown them some favour and consideration, who would have ventured to +have said 'don't?' Instead of that, you confer benefits upon thorough +strangers, and all to no purpose whatever! But these words of mine are +also incorrect, eh? for those whom we regard as strangers you, +contrariwise, will treat just as if they were relatives!" + +At these words every one present in the room burst out laughing; even +nurse Chao could not repress herself; and as she invoked Buddha,--"In +very truth," she exclaimed, "in this room has sprung up a kind-hearted +person! as regards relatives and strangers, such foolish distinctions +aren't drawn by our master; and it's simply because he's full of pity +and is tenderhearted that he can't put off any one who gives vent to a +few words of entreaty, and nothing else!" + +"That's quite it!" rejoined lady Feng smiling sarcastically, "to those +whom he looks upon as relatives, he's kindhearted, but with me and his +mother he's as hard as steel." + +"What you say, my lady, is very considerate," remarked nurse Chao, "and +I'm really so full of delight that I'll have another glass of good wine! +and, if from this time forward, your ladyship will act as you think +best, I'll have then nothing to be sorry for!" + +Chia Lien did not at this juncture feel quite at his ease, but he could +do no more than feign a smile. "You people," he said, "should leave off +talking nonsense, and bring the eatables at once and let us have our +meal, as I have still to go on the other side and see Mr. Chia Chen, to +consult with him about business." + +"To be sure you have," ventured lady Feng, "and you shouldn't neglect +your legitimate affairs; but what did Mr. Chia Chen tell you when he +sent for you just a while back?" + +"It was about the visit (of Yuan Ch'un) to her parents," Chia Lien +explained. + +"Has after all permission for the visit been granted?" lady Feng +inquired with alacrity. + +"Though not quite granted," Chia Lien replied joyously, "it's +nevertheless more or less an accomplished fact." + +"This is indeed evidence of the great bounty of the present Emperor!" +lady Feng observed smirkingly; "one doesn't hear in books, or see in +plays, written from time to time, any mention of such an instance, even +so far back as the days of old!" + +Dame Chao took up again the thread of the conversation. "Indeed it's +so!" she interposed; "But I'm in very truth quite stupid from old age, +for I've heard every one, high and low, clamouring during these few +days, something or other about 'Hsing Ch'in' or no 'Hsing Ch'in,' but I +didn't really pay any heed to it; and now again, here's something more +about this 'Hsing Ch'in,' but what's it all about, I wonder?" + +"The Emperor at present on the Throne," explained Chia Lien, "takes into +consideration the feelings of his people. In the whole world, there is +(in his opinion), no more essential thing than filial piety; maintaining +that the feelings of father, mother, son and daughter are +indiscriminately subject to one principle, without any distinction +between honorable and mean. The present Emperor himself day and night +waits upon their majesties his Father and the Empress Dowager, and yet +cannot, in the least degree, carry out to the full his ideal of filial +piety. The secondary consorts, meritorious persons and other inmates of +the Palace, he remembered, had entered within its precincts many years +back, casting aside fathers and mothers, so how could they not help +thinking of them? Besides, the fathers and mothers, who remain at home +must long for their daughters, of whom they cannot get even so much as a +glimpse, and if, through this solicitude, they were to contract any +illness, the harmony of heaven would also be seriously impaired, so for +this reason, he memorialised the Emperor, his father, and the Empress +Dowager that every month, on the recurrence of the second and sixth +days, permission should be accorded to the relatives of the imperial +consorts to enter the palace and make application to see their +daughters. The Emperor, his father, and Empress Dowager were, forthwith, +much delighted by this representation, and eulogised, in high terms, the +piety and generosity of the present Emperor, his regard for the will of +heaven and his research into the nature of things. Both their sacred +Majesties consequently also issued a decree to the effect: that the +entrance of the relatives of the imperial consorts into the Palace could +not but interfere with the dignity of the state, and the rules of +conventional rites, but that as the mothers and daughters could not +gratify the wishes of their hearts, Their Majesties would, after all, +show a high proof of expedient grace, and issue a special command that: +'exclusive of the generous bounty, by virtue of which the worthy +relations of the imperial consorts could enter the palace on the second +and sixth days, any family, having extensive accommodation and separate +courts suitable for the cantonment of the imperial body-guard, could, +without any detriment, make application to the Inner Palace, for the +entrance of the imperial chair into the private residences, to the end +that the personal feelings of relations might be gratified, and that +they should collectively enjoy the bliss of a family reunion.' After the +issue of this decree, who did not leap from grateful joy! The father of +the honourable secondary consort Chou has now already initiated works, +in his residence, for the repairs to the separate courts necessary for +the visiting party. Wu T'ien-yu too, the father of Wu, the distinguished +consort, has likewise gone outside the city walls in search of a +suitable plot of ground; and don't these amount to well-nigh +accomplished facts?" + +"O-mi-to-fu!" exclaimed dame Chao. "Is it really so? but from what you +say, our family will also be making preparations for the reception of +the eldest young lady!" + +"That goes without saying," added Chia Lien, "otherwise, for what +purpose could we be in such a stir just now?" + +"It's of course so!" interposed lady Feng smiling, "and I shall now have +an opportunity of seeing something great of the world. My misfortune is +that I'm young by several years; for had I been born twenty or thirty +years sooner, all these old people wouldn't really be now treating me +contemptuously for not having seen the world! To begin with, the Emperor +Tai Tsu, in years gone by, imitated the old policy of Shun, and went on +a tour, giving rise to more stir than any book could have ever produced; +but I happen to be devoid of that good fortune which could have enabled +me to come in time." + +"Ai ya, ya!" ejaculated dame Chao, "such a thing is rarely met with in a +thousand years! I was old enough at that time to remember the +occurrence! Our Chia family was then at Ku Su, Yangchow and all along +that line, superintending the construction of ocean vessels, and the +repairs to the seaboard. This was the only time in which preparations +were made for the reception of the Emperor, and money was lavished in +quantities as great as the billowing waters of the sea!" + +This subject once introduced, lady Feng took up the thread of the +conversation with vehemence. "Our Wang family," she said, "did also make +preparations on one occasion. At that time my grandfather was in sole +charge of all matters connected with tribute from various states, as +well as with general levees, so that whenever any foreigners arrived, +they all came to our house to be entertained, while the whole of the +goods, brought by foreign vessels from the two Kuang provinces, from +Fukien, Yunnan and Chekiang, were the property of our family." + +"Who isn't aware of these facts?" ventured dame Chao; "there is up to +this day a saying that, 'in the eastern sea, there was a white jade bed +required, and the dragon prince came to request Mr. Wang of Chin Ling +(to give it to him)!' This saying relates to your family, my lady, and +remains even now in vogue. The Chen family of Chiang Nan has recently +held, oh such a fine old standing! it alone has entertained the Emperor +on four occasions! Had we not seen these things with our own eyes, were +we to tell no matter whom, they wouldn't surely ever believe them! Not +to speak of the money, which was as plentiful as mud, all things, +whether they were to be found in the world or not, were they not heaped +up like hills, and collected like the waters of the sea? But with the +four characters representing sin and pity they didn't however trouble +their minds." + +"I've often heard," continued lady Feng, "my eldest uncle say that +things were in such a state, and how couldn't I believe? but what +surprises me is how it ever happened that this family attained such +opulence and honour!" + +"I'll tell your ladyship and all in one sentence," replied nurse Chao. +"Why they simply took the Emperor's money and spent it for the Emperor's +person, that's all! for what family has such a lot of money as to +indulge in this useless extravagance?" + +While they were engaged in this conversation, a servant came a second +time, at the instance of madame Wang, to see whether lady Feng had +finished her meal or not; and lady Feng forthwith concluding that there +must be something waiting for her to attend to, hurriedly rushed through +her repast. She had just rinsed her mouth and was about to start when +the youths, on duty at the second gate, also reported that the two +gentlemen, Mr. Chia Jung and Mr. Chia Se, belonging to the Eastern +mansion, had arrived. + +Chia Lien had, at length, rinsed his mouth; but while P'ing Erh +presented a basin for him to wash his hands, he perceived the two young +men walk in, and readily inquired of them what they had to say. + +Lady Feng was, on account (of their arrival), likewise compelled to +stay, and she heard Chia Jung take the lead and observe: "My father has +sent me to tell you, uncle, that the gentlemen, have already decided +that the whole extent of ground, starting from the East side, borrowing +(for the occasion) the flower garden of the Eastern mansion, straight up +to the North West, had been measured and found to amount in all to three +and a half li; that it will be suitable for the erection of extra +accommodation for the visiting party; that they have already +commissioned an architect to draw a plan, which will be ready by +to-morrow; that as you, uncle, have just returned home, and must +unavoidably feel fatigued, you need not go over to our house, but that +if you have anything to say you should please come tomorrow morning, as +early as you can, and consult verbally with him." + +"Thank uncle warmly," Chia Lien rejoined smilingly, "for the trouble he +has taken in thinking of me; I shall, in that case, comply with his +wishes and not go over. This plan is certainly the proper one, for while +trouble will thus be saved, the erection of the quarters will likewise +be an easy matter; for had a distinct plot to be selected and to be +purchased, it would involve far greater difficulties. What's more, +things wouldn't, after all, be what they properly should be. When you +get back, tell your father that this decision is the right one, and that +should the gentlemen have any further wish to introduce any change in +their proposals, it will rest entirely with my uncle to prevent them, as +it's on no account advisable to go and cast one's choice on some other +plot; that to-morrow as soon as it's daylight, I'll come and pay my +respects to uncle, when we can enter into further details in our +deliberations!" + +Chia Jung hastily signified his assent by several yes's, and Chia Se +also came forward to deliver his message. "The mission to Ku Su," he +explained, "to find tutors, to purchase servant girls, and to obtain +musical instruments, and theatrical properties and the like, my uncle +has confided to me; and as I'm to take along with me the two sons of a +couple of majordomos, and two companions of the family, besides, Tan +P'ing-jen and Pei Ku-hsiu, he has, for this reason, enjoined me to come +and see you, uncle." + +Upon hearing this, Chia Lien scrutinised Chia Se. "What!" he asked, "are +you able to undertake these commissions? These matters are, it's true, +of no great moment; but there's something more hidden in them!" + +Chia Se smiled. "The best thing I can do," he remarked, "will be to +execute them in my novice sort of way, that's all." + +Chia Jung was standing next to lady Feng, out of the light of the lamp, +and stealthily pulled the lapel of her dress. Lady Feng understood the +hint, and putting on a smiling expression, "You are too full of fears!" +she interposed. "Is it likely that our uncle Chen doesn't, after all, +know better than we do what men to employ, that you again give way to +apprehensions that he isn't up to the mark! but who are those who are, +in every respect, up to the mark? These young fellows have grown up +already to this age, and if they haven't eaten any pork, they have +nevertheless seen a pig run. If Mr. Chen has deputed him to go, he is +simply meant to sit under the general's standard; and do you imagine, +forsooth, that he has, in real earnest, told him to go and bargain about +the purchase money, and to interview the brokers himself? My own idea is +that (the choice) is a very good one." + +"Of course it is!" observed Chia Lien; "but it isn't that I entertain +any wish to be factious; my only object is to devise some plan or other +for him. Whence will," he therefore went on to ask, "the money required +for this purpose come from?" + +"A little while ago the deliberations reached this point," rejoined Chia +Se; "and Mr. Lai suggested that there was no necessity at all to take +any funds from the capital, as the Chen family, in Chiang Nan, had still +in their possession Tls. 50,000 of our money. That he would to-morrow +write a letter of advice and a draft for us to take along, and that we +should, first of all, obtain cash to the amount of Tls. 30,000, and let +the balance of Tls. 20,000 remain over, for the purchase of painted +lanterns, and coloured candles, as well as for the outlay for every kind +of portieres, banners, curtains and streamers." + +Chia Lien nodded his head. "This plan is first-rate!" he added. + +"Since that be so," observed lady Feng, as she addressed herself to Chia +Se, "I've two able and reliable men; and if you would take them with +you, to attend to these matters, won't it be to your convenience?" + +Chia Se forced a smile. "I was just on the point," he rejoined, "of +asking you, aunt, for the loan of two men, so that this suggestion is a +strange coincidence." + +As he went on to ascertain what were their names, lady Feng inquired +what they were of nurse Chao. But nurse Chao had, by this time, become +quite dazed from listening to the conversation, and P'ing Erh had to +give her a push, as she smiled, before she returned to consciousness. +"The one," she hastened to reply, "is called Chao T'ien-liang and the +other Chao T'ien-tung." + +"Whatever you do," suggested lady Feng, "don't forget them; but now I'm +off to look after my duties." + +With these words, she left the room, and Chia Jung promptly followed her +out, and with gentle voice he said to her: "Of whatever you want, aunt, +issue orders that a list be drawn up, and I'll give it to my brother to +take with him, and he'll carry out your commissions according to the +list." + +"Don't talk nonsense!" replied lady Feng laughing; "I've found no place, +as yet, where I could put away all my own things; and do the stealthy +practices of you people take my fancy?" + +As she uttered these words she straightway went her way. + +Chia Se, at this time, likewise, asked Chia Lien: "If you want anything +(in the way of curtains), I can conveniently have them woven for you, +along with the rest, and bring them as a present to you." + +"Don't be in such high glee!" Chia Lien urged with a grin, "you've but +recently been learning how to do business, and have you come first and +foremost to excel in tricks of this kind? If I require anything, I'll of +course write and tell you, but we needn't talk about it." + +Having finished speaking, he dismissed the two young men; and, in quick +succession, servants came to make their business reports, not limited to +three and five companies, but as Chia Lien felt exhausted, he forthwith +sent word to those on duty at the second gate not to allow any one at +all to communicate any reports, and that the whole crowd should wait +till the next day, when he would give his mind to what had to be done. + +Lady Feng did not come to retire to rest till the third watch; but +nothing need be said about the whole night. + +The next morning, at an early hour, Chia Lien got up and called on Chia +She and Chia Cheng; after which, he came over to the Ning Kuo mansion; +when, in company with the old major-domos and other servants, as well as +with several old family friends and companions, he inspected the grounds +of the two mansions, and drew plans of the palatial buildings (for the +accommodation of the Imperial consort and her escort) on her visit to +her parents; deliberating at the same time, on the subject of the works +and workmen. + +From this day the masons and workmen of every trade were collected to +the full number; and the articles of gold, silver, copper, and pewter, +as well as the earth, timber, tiles, and bricks, were brought over, and +carried in, in incessant supplies. In the first place, orders were +issued to the workmen to demolish the wall and towers of the garden of +Concentrated Fragrance, and extend a passage to connect in a straight +line with the large court in the East of the Jung mansion; for the whole +extent of servants' quarters on the Eastern side of the Jung mansion had +previously been pulled down. + +The two residences of Ning and Jung were, in these days, it is true, +divided by a small street, which served as a boundary line, and there +was no communication between them, but this narrow passage was also +private property, and not in any way a government street, so that they +could easily be connected, and as in the garden of Concentrated +Fragrance, there was already a stream of running water, which had been +introduced through the corner of the Northern wall, there was no further +need now of going to the trouble of bringing in another. Although the +rockeries and trees were not sufficient, the place where Chia She lived, +was an old garden of the Jung mansion, so that the bamboos, trees, and +rockeries in that compound, as well as the arbours, railings and other +such things could all be very well removed to the front; and by these +means, these two grounds, situated as they were besides so very near to +each other, could, by being thrown into one, conduce to the saving of +considerable capital and labour; for, in spite of some deficiency, what +had to be supplied did not amount to much. And it devolved entirely upon +a certain old Hu, a man of note, styled Shan Tzu-yeh, to deliberate upon +one thing after another, and to initiate its construction. + +Chia Cheng was not up to these ordinary matters, so that it fell to Chia +She, Chia Chen, Chia Lien, Lai Ta, Lai Sheng, Lin Chih-hsiao, Wu +Hsin-teng, Chan Kuang, Ch'eng Jih-hsing and several others to allot the +sites, to set things in order, (and to look after) the heaping up of +rockeries, the digging of ponds, the construction of two-storied +buildings, the erection of halls, the plantation of bamboos and the +cultivation of flowers, everything connected with the improvement of the +scenery devolving, on the other hand, upon Shan Tzu-yeh to make +provision for, and after leaving Court, he would devote such leisure +moments as he had to merely going everywhere to give a look at the most +important spots, and to consult with Chia She and the others; after +which he troubled his mind no more with anything. And as Chia She did +nothing else than stay at home and lie off, whenever any matter turned +up, trifling though it may have been as a grain of mustard seed or a +bean, Chia Chen and his associates had either to go and report it in +person or to write a memorandum of it. Or if he had anything to say, he +sent for Chia Lien, Lai Ta and others to come and receive his +instructions. Chia Jung had the sole direction of the manufacture of the +articles in gold and silver; and as for Chia Se, he had already set out +on his journey to Ku Su. Chia Chen, Lai Ta and the rest had also to call +out the roll with the names of the workmen, to superintend the works and +other duties relative thereto, which could not be recorded by one pen +alone; sufficient to say that a great bustle and stir prevailed, but to +this subject we shall not refer for a time, but allude to Pao-yue. + +As of late there were in the household concerns of this magnitude to +attend to, Chia Cheng did not come to examine him in his lessons, so +that he was, of course, in high spirits, but, as unfortunately Ch'in +Chung's complaint became, day by day, more serious, he was at the same +time really so very distressed at heart on his account, that enjoyment +was for him out of the question. + +On this day, he got up as soon as it was dawn, and having just combed +his hair and washed his face and hands, he was bent upon going to ask +dowager lady Chia to allow him to pay a visit to Ch'in Chung, when he +suddenly espied Ming Yen peep round the curtain-wall at the second gate, +and then withdraw his head. Pao-yue promptly walked out and inquired what +he was up to. + +"Mr. Ch'in Chung," observed Ming Yen, "is not well at all." + +Pao-yue at these words was quite taken aback. "It was only yesterday," he +hastily added, "that I saw him, and he was still bright and cheery; and +how is it that he's anything but well now?" + +"I myself can't explain," replied Ming Yen; "but just a few minutes ago +an old man belonging to his family came over with the express purpose of +giving me the tidings." + +Upon hearing this news, Pao-yue there and then turned round and told +dowager lady Chia; and the old lady issued directions to depute some +trustworthy persons to accompany him. "Let him go," (she said), "and +satisfy his feelings towards his fellow-scholar; but as soon as he has +done, he must come back; and don't let him tarry too long." + +Pao-yue with hurried step left the room and came and changed his clothes. +But as on his arrival outside, the carriage had not as yet been got +ready, he fell into such a state of excitement, that he went round and +round all over the hall in quite an erratic manner. In a short while, +after pressure had been brought to bear, the carriage arrived, and +speedily mounting the vehicle, he drove up to the door of Ch'in Chung's +house, followed by Li Kuei, Ming Yen and the other servants. Everything +was quiet. Not a soul was about. Like a hive of bees they flocked into +the house, to the astonishment of two distant aunts, and of several male +cousins of Ch'in Chung, all of whom had no time to effect their retreat. + +Ch'in Chung had, by this time, had two or three fainting fits, and had +already long ago been changed his mat. As soon as Pao-yue realised the +situation, he felt unable to repress himself from bursting forth aloud. +Li Kuei promptly reasoned with him. "You shouldn't go on in this way," +he urged, "you shouldn't. It's because Mr. Ch'in is so weak that lying +flat on the stove-couch naturally made his bones feel uncomfortable; and +that's why he has temporarily been removed down here to ease him a +little. But if you, sir, go on in this way, will you not, instead of +doing him any good, aggravate his illness?" + +At these words, Pao-yue accordingly restrained himself, and held his +tongue; and drawing near, he gazed at Ch'in Chung's face, which was as +white as wax, while with closed eyes, he gasped for breath, rolling +about on his pillow. + +"Brother Ching," speedily exclaimed Pao-yue, "Pao-yue is here!" But though +he shouted out two or three consecutive times, Ch'in Chung did not heed +him. + +"Pao-yue has come!" Pao-yue went on again to cry. But Ch'in Chung's spirit +had already departed from his body, leaving behind only a faint breath +of superfluous air in his lungs. + +He had just caught sight of a number of recording devils, holding a +warrant and carrying chains, coming to seize him, but Ch'in Chung's soul +would on no account go along with them; and remembering how that there +was in his home no one to assume the direction of domestic affairs, and +feeling concerned that Chih Neng had as yet no home, he consequently +used hundreds of arguments in his entreaties to the recording devils; +but alas! these devils would, none of them, show him any favour. On the +contrary, they heaped invectives upon Ch'in Chung. + +"You're fortunate enough to be a man of letters," they insinuated, "and +don't you know the common saying that: 'if the Prince of Hell call upon +you to die at the third watch, who can presume to retain you, a human +being, up to the fifth watch?' In our abode, in the unseen, high as well +as low, have all alike a face made of iron, and heed not selfish +motives; unlike the mortal world, where favouritism and partiality +prevail. There exist therefore many difficulties in the way (to our +yielding to your wishes)." + +While this fuss was going on, Ch'in Chung's spirit suddenly grasped the +four words, "Pao-yue has come," and without loss of time, it went on +again to make further urgent appeals. "Gentlemen, spiritual deputies," +it exclaimed; "show me a little mercy and allow me to return to make +just one remark to an intimate friend of mine, and I'll be back again." + +"What intimate friend is this again?" the devils observed with one +voice. + +"I'm not deceiving you, gentlemen," rejoined Ch'in Chung; "it's the +grandson of the duke of Jung Kuo, whose infant name is Pao-yue." + +The Decider of life was, at first, upon hearing these words, so seized +with dismay that he vehemently abused the devils sent on the errand. + +"I told you," he shouted, "to let him go back for a turn; but you would +by no means comply with my words! and now do you wait until he has +summoned a man of glorious fortune and prosperous standing to at last +desist?" + +When the company of devils perceived the manner of the Decider of life, +they were all likewise so seized with consternation that they bustled +with hand and feet; while with hearts also full of resentment: "You, +sir," they replied, "were at one time such a terror, formidable as +lightning; and are you not forsooth able to listen with equanimity to +the two sounds of 'Pao-yue?' our humble idea is that mortal as he is, and +immortal as we are, it wouldn't be to our credit if we feared him!" + +But whether Ch'in Chung, after all, died or survived, the next chapter +will explain. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + In the Ta Kuan Garden, (Broad Vista,) the merits of Pao-yue are put to + the test, by his being told to write devices for scrolls and + tablets. + Yuan Ch'un returns to the Jung Kuo mansion, on a visit to her parents, + and offers her congratulations to them on the feast of lanterns, + on the fifteenth of the first moon. + + +Ch'in Chung, to resume our story, departed this life, and Pao-yue went on +so unceasingly in his bitter lamentations, that Li Kuei and the other +servants had, for ever so long, an arduous task in trying to comfort him +before he desisted; but on his return home he was still exceedingly +disconsolate. + +Dowager lady Chia afforded monetary assistance to the amount of several +tens of taels; and exclusive of this, she had sacrificial presents +likewise got ready. Pao-yue went and paid a visit of condolence to the +family, and after seven days the funeral and burial took place, but +there are no particulars about them which could be put on record. + +Pao-yue, however, continued to mourn (his friend) from day to day, and +was incessant in his remembrance of him, but there was likewise no help +for it. Neither is it known after how many days he got over his grief. + +On this day, Chia Chen and the others came to tell Chia Cheng that the +works in the garden had all been reported as completed, and that Mr. +Chia She had already inspected them. "It only remains," (they said), +"for you, sir, to see them; and should there possibly be anything which +is not proper, steps will be at once taken to effect the alterations, so +that the tablets and scrolls may conveniently be written." + +After Chia Cheng had listened to these words, he pondered for a while. +"These tablets and scrolls," he remarked, "present however a difficult +task. According to the rites, we should, in order to obviate any +shortcoming, request the imperial consort to deign and compose them; but +if the honourable consort does not gaze upon the scenery with her own +eyes, it will also be difficult for her to conceive its nature and +indite upon it! And were we to wait until the arrival of her highness, +to request her to honour the grounds with a visit, before she composes +the inscriptions, such a wide landscape, with so many pavilions and +arbours, will, without one character in the way of a motto, albeit it +may abound with flowers, willows, rockeries, and streams, nevertheless +in no way be able to show off its points of beauty to advantage." + +The whole party of family companions, who stood by, smiled. "Your views, +remarkable sir," they ventured, "are excellent; but we have now a +proposal to make. Tablets and scrolls for every locality cannot, on any +account, be dispensed with, but they could not likewise, by any means, +be determined upon for good! Were now, for the time being, two, three or +four characters fixed upon, harmonising with the scenery, to carry out, +for form's sake, the idea, and were they provisionally utilised as +mottoes for the lanterns, tablets and scrolls, and hung up, pending the +arrival of her highness, and her visit through the grounds, when she +could be requested to decide upon the devices, would not two exigencies +be met with satisfactorily?" + +"Your views are perfectly correct," observed Chia Cheng, after he had +heard their suggestion; "and we should go to-day and have a look at the +place so as then to set to work to write the inscriptions; which, if +suitable, can readily be used; and, if unsuitable, Yue-ts'un can then be +sent for, and asked to compose fresh ones." + +The whole company smiled. "If you, sir, were to compose them to-day," +they ventured, "they are sure to be excellent; and what need will there +be again to wait for Yue-ts'un!" + +"You people are not aware," Chia Cheng added with a smiling countenance, +"that I've been, even in my young days, very mediocre in the composition +of stanzas on flowers, birds, rockeries and streams; and that now that +I'm well up in years and have moreover the fatigue and trouble of my +official duties, I've become in literary compositions like these, which +require a light heart and gladsome mood, still more inapt. Were I even +to succeed in composing any, they will unavoidably be so doltish and +forced that they would contrariwise be instrumental in making the +flowers, trees, garden and pavilions, through their demerits, lose in +beauty, and present instead no pleasing feature." + +"This wouldn't anyhow matter," remonstrated all the family companions, +"for after perusing them we can all decide upon them together, each one +of us recommending those he thinks best; which if excellent can be kept, +and if faulty can be discarded; and there's nothing unfeasible about +this!" + +"This proposal is most apposite," rejoined Chia Cheng. "What's more, the +weather is, I rejoice, fine to-day; so let's all go in a company and +have a look." + +Saying this, he stood up and went forward, at the head of the whole +party; while Chia Chen betook himself in advance into the garden to let +every one know of their coming. As luck would have it, Pao-yue--for he +had been these last few days thinking of Ch'in Chung and so ceaselessly +sad and wounded at heart, that dowager lady Chia had frequently directed +the servants to take him into the new garden to play--made his entrance +just at this very time, and suddenly became aware of the arrival of Chia +Chen, who said to him with a smile, "Don't you yet run away as fast as +you can? Mr. Chia Cheng will be coming in a while." + +At these words, Pao-yue led off his nurse and the youths, and rushed at +once out of the garden, like a streak of smoke; but as he turned a +corner, he came face to face with Chia Cheng, who was advancing towards +that direction, at the head of all the visitors; and as he had no time +to get out of the way, the only course open to him was to stand on one +side. + +Chia Cheng had, of late, heard the tutor extol him by saying that he +displayed special ability in rhyming antithetical lines, and that +although he did not like to read his books, he nevertheless possessed +some depraved talents, and hence it was that he was induced at this +moment to promptly bid him follow him into the garden, with the intent +of putting him to the test. + +Pao-yue could not make out what his object was, but he was compelled to +follow. As soon as they reached the garden gate, and he caught sight of +Chia Chen, standing on one side, along with several managers: "See that +the garden gate is closed for a time," Chia Cheng exclaimed, "for we'll +first see the outside and then go in." + +Chia Chen directed a servant to close the gate, and Chia Cheng first +looked straight ahead of him towards the gate and espied on the same +side as the main entrance a suite of five apartments. Above, the +cylindrical tiles resembled the backs of mud eels. The doors, railings, +windows, and frames were all finely carved with designs of the new +fashion, and were painted neither in vermilion nor in white colours. The +whole extent of the walls was of polished bricks of uniform colour; +while below, the white marble on the terrace and steps was engraved with +western foreign designs; and when he came to look to the right and to +the left, everything was white as snow. At the foot of the white-washed +walls, tiger-skin pebbles were, without regard to pattern, promiscuously +inserted in the earth in such a way as of their own selves to form +streaks. Nothing fell in with the custom of gaudiness and display so +much in vogue, so that he naturally felt full of delight; and, when he +forthwith asked that the gate should be thrown open, all that met their +eyes was a long stretch of verdant hills, which shut in the view in +front of them. + +"What a fine hill, what a pretty hill!" exclaimed all the companions +with one voice. + +"Were it not for this one hill," Chia Cheng explained, "whatever scenery +is contained in it would clearly strike the eye, as soon as one entered +into the garden, and what pleasure would that have been?" + +"Quite so," rejoined all of them. "But without large hills and ravines +in one's breast (liberal capacities), how could one attain such +imagination!" + +After the conclusion of this remark, they cast a glance ahead of them, +and perceived white rugged rocks looking, either like goblins, or +resembling savage beasts, lying either crossways, or in horizontal or +upright positions; on the surface of which grew moss and lichen with +mottled hues, or parasitic plants, which screened off the light; while, +slightly visible, wound, among the rocks, a narrow pathway like the +intestines of a sheep. + +"If we were now to go and stroll along by this narrow path," Chia Cheng +suggested, "and to come out from over there on our return, we shall have +been able to see the whole grounds." + +Having finished speaking, he asked Chia Chen to lead the way; and he +himself, leaning on Pao-yue, walked into the gorge with leisurely step. +Raising his head, he suddenly beheld on the hill a block of stone, as +white as the surface of a looking-glass, in a site which was, in very +deed, suitable to be left for an inscription, as it was bound to meet +the eye. + +"Gentlemen," Chia Cheng observed, as he turned his head round and +smiled, "please look at this spot. What name will it be fit to give it?" + +When the company heard his remark, some maintained that the two words +"Heaped verdure" should be written; and others upheld that the device +should be "Embroidered Hill." Others again suggested: "Vying with the +Hsiang Lu;" and others recommended "the small Chung Nan." And various +kinds of names were proposed, which did not fall short of several tens. + +All the visitors had been, it must be explained, aware at an early +period of the fact that Chia Cheng meant to put Pao-yue's ability to the +test, and for this reason they merely proposed a few combinations in +common use. But of this intention, Pao-yue himself was likewise +cognizant. + +After listening to the suggestions, Chia Cheng forthwith turned his head +round and bade Pao-yue think of some motto. + +"I've often heard," Pao-yue replied, "that writers of old opine that it's +better to quote an old saying than to compose a new one; and that an old +engraving excels in every respect an engraving of the present day. +What's more, this place doesn't constitute the main hill or the chief +feature of the scenery, and is really no site where any inscription +should be put, as it no more than constitutes the first step in the +inspection of the landscape. Won't it be well to employ the exact text +of an old writer consisting of 'a tortuous path leading to a secluded +(nook).' This line of past days would, if inscribed, be, in fact, +liberal to boot." + +After listening to the proposed line, they all sang its praise. +"First-rate! excellent!" they cried, "the natural talents of your second +son, dear friend, are lofty; his mental capacity is astute; he is unlike +ourselves, who have read books but are simple fools." + +"You shouldn't," urged Chia Cheng smilingly, "heap upon him excessive +praise; he's young in years, and merely knows one thing which he turns +to the use of ten purposes; you should laugh at him, that's all; but we +can by and by choose some device." + +As he spoke, he entered the cave, where he perceived beautiful trees +with thick foliage, quaint flowers in lustrous bloom, while a line of +limpid stream emanated out of a deep recess among the flowers and trees, +and oozed down through the crevice of the rock. Progressing several +steps further in, they gradually faced the northern side, where a +stretch of level ground extended far and wide, on each side of which +soared lofty buildings, intruding themselves into the skies, whose +carved rafters and engraved balustrades nestled entirely among the +depressions of the hills and the tops of the trees. They lowered their +eyes and looked, and beheld a pure stream flowing like jade, stone steps +traversing the clouds, a balustrade of white marble encircling the pond +in its embrace, and a stone bridge with three archways, the animals upon +which had faces disgorging water from their mouths. A pavilion stood on +the bridge, and in this pavilion Chia Chen and the whole party went and +sat. + +"Gentlemen," he inquired, "what shall we write about this?" + +"In the record," they all replied, "of the 'Drunken Old Man's Pavilion,' +written in days of old by Ou Yang, appears this line: 'There is a +pavilion pinioned-like,' so let us call this 'the pinioned-like +pavilion,' and finish." + +"Pinioned-like," observed Chia Cheng smiling, "is indeed excellent; but +this pavilion is constructed over the water, and there should, after +all, be some allusion to the water in the designation. My humble opinion +is that of the line in Ou Yang's work, '(the water) drips from between +the two peaks,' we should only make use of that single word 'drips.'" + +"First-rate!" rejoined one of the visitors, "capital! but what would +really be appropriate are the two characters 'dripping jadelike.'" + +Chia Chen pulled at his moustache, as he gave way to reflection; after +which, he asked Pao-yue to also propose one himself. + +"What you, sir, suggested a while back," replied Pao-yue, "will do very +well; but if we were now to sift the matter thoroughly, the use of the +single word 'drip' by Ou Yang, in his composition about the Niang +spring, would appear quite apposite; while the application, also on this +occasion, to this spring, of the character 'drip' would be found not +quite suitable. Moreover, seeing that this place is intended as a +separate residence (for the imperial consort), on her visit to her +parents, it is likewise imperative that we should comply with all the +principles of etiquette, so that were words of this kind to be used, +they would besides be coarse and inappropriate; and may it please you to +fix upon something else more recondite and abstruse." + +"What do you, gentlemen, think of this argument?" Chia Cheng remarked +sneeringly. "A little while ago, when the whole company devised +something original, you observed that it would be better to quote an old +device; and now that we have quoted an old motto, you again maintain +that it's coarse and inappropriate! But you had better give us one of +yours." + +"If two characters like 'dripping jadelike' are to be used," Pao-yue +explained, "it would be better then to employ the two words 'Penetrating +Fragrance,' which would be unique and excellent, wouldn't they?" + +Chia Cheng pulled his moustache, nodded his head and did not utter a +word; whereupon the whole party hastily pressed forward with one voice +to eulogize Pao-yue's acquirements as extraordinary. + +"The selection of two characters for the tablet is an easy matter," +suggested Chia Cheng, "but now go on and compose a pair of antithetical +phrases with seven words in each." + +Pao-yue cast a glance round the four quarters, when an idea came into his +head, and he went on to recite: + + The willows, which enclose the shore, the green borrow from three + bamboos; + On banks apart, the flowers asunder grow, yet one perfume they give. + +Upon hearing these lines, Chia Cheng gave a faint smile, as he nodded +his head, whilst the whole party went on again to be effusive in their +praise. But forthwith they issued from the pavilions, and crossed the +pond, contemplating with close attention each elevation, each stone, +each flower, or each tree. And as suddenly they raised their heads, they +caught sight, in front of them, of a line of white wall, of numbers of +columns, and beautiful cottages, where flourished hundreds and thousands +of verdant bamboos, which screened off the rays of the sun. + +"What a lovely place!" they one and all exclaimed. + +Speedily the whole company penetrated inside, perceiving, as soon as +they had entered the gate, a zigzag arcade, below the steps of which was +a raised pathway, laid promiscuously with stones, and on the furthest +part stood a diminutive cottage with three rooms, two with doors leading +into them and one without. Everything in the interior, in the shape of +beds, teapoys, chairs and tables, were made to harmonise with the space +available. Leading out of the inner room of the cottage was a small door +from which, as they egressed, they found a back-court with lofty pear +trees in blossom and banana trees, as well as two very small retiring +back-courts. At the foot of the wall, unexpectedly became visible an +aperture where was a spring, for which a channel had been opened +scarcely a foot or so wide, to enable it to run inside the wall. Winding +round the steps, it skirted the buildings until it reached the front +court, where it coiled and curved, flowing out under the bamboos. + +"This spot," observed Chia Cheng full of smiles, "is indeed pleasant! +and could one, on a moonlight night, sit under the window and study, one +would not spend a whole lifetime in vain!" + +As he said this, he quickly cast a glance at Pao-yue, and so terrified +did Pao-yue feel that he hastily drooped his head. The whole company lost +no time in choosing some irrelevant talk to turn the conversation, and +two of the visitors prosecuted their remarks by adding that on the +tablet, in this spot, four characters should be inscribed. + +"Which four characters?" Chia Cheng inquired, laughingly. + +"The bequeathed aspect of the river Ch'i!" suggested one of them. + +"It's commonplace," observed Chia Cheng. + +Another person recommended "the remaining vestiges of the Chue Garden." + +"This too is commonplace!" replied Chia Cheng. + +"Let brother Pao-yue again propound one!" interposed Chia Chen, who stood +by. + +"Before he composes any himself," Chia Cheng continued, "his wont is to +first discuss the pros and cons of those of others; so it's evident that +he's an impudent fellow!" + +"He's most reasonable in his arguments," all the visitors protested, +"and why should he be called to task?" + +"Don't humour him so much!" Chia Cheng expostulated. "I'll put up for +to-day," he however felt constrained to tell Pao-yue, "with your haughty +manner, and your rubbishy speech, so that after you have, to begin with, +given us your opinion, you may next compose a device. But tell me, are +there any that will do among the mottoes suggested just now by all the +gentlemen?" + +"They all seem to me unsuitable!" Pao-yue did not hesitate to say by way +of reply to this question. + +Chia Cheng gave a sardonic smile. "How all unsuitable?" he exclaimed. + +"This," continued Pao-yue, "is the first spot which her highness will +honour on her way, and there should be inscribed, so that it should be +appropriate, something commending her sacred majesty. But if a tablet +with four characters has to be used, there are likewise devices ready at +hand, written by poets of old; and what need is there to compose any +more?" + +"Are forsooth the devices 'the river Ch'i and the Chu Garden' not those +of old authors?" insinuated Chia Cheng. + +"They are too stiff," replied Pao-yue. "Would not the four characters: 'a +phoenix comes with dignified air,' be better?" + +With clamorous unanimity the whole party shouted: "Excellent:" and Chia +Cheng nodding his head; "You beast, you beast!" he ejaculated, "it may +well be said about you that you see through a thin tube and have no more +judgment than an insect! Compose another stanza," he consequently bade +him; and Pao-yue recited: + + In the precious tripod kettle, tea is brewed, but green is still the + smoke! + O'er is the game of chess by the still window, but the fingers are yet + cold. + +Chia Cheng shook his head. "Neither does this seem to me good!" he said; +and having concluded this remark he was leading the company out, when +just as he was about to proceed, he suddenly bethought himself of +something. + +"The several courts and buildings and the teapoys, sideboards, tables +and chairs," he added, "may be said to be provided for. But there are +still all those curtains, screens and portieres, as well as the +furniture, nicknacks and curios; and have they too all been matched to +suit the requirements of each place?" + +"Of the things that have to be placed about," Chia Chen explained, a +good number have, at an early period, been added, and of course when the +time comes everything will be suitably arranged. As for the curtains, +screens, and portieres, which have to be hung up, I heard yesterday +brother Lien say that they are not as yet complete, that when the works +were first taken in hand, the plan of each place was drawn, the +measurements accurately calculated and some one despatched to attend to +the things, and that he thought that yesterday half of them were bound +to come in. + +Chia Cheng, upon hearing this explanation, readily remembered that with +all these concerns Chia Chen had nothing to do; so that he speedily sent +some one to go and call Chia Lien. + +Having arrived in a short while, "How many sorts of things are there in +all?" Chia Cheng inquired of him. "Of these how many kinds have by this +time been got ready? and how many more are short?" + +At this question, Chia Lien hastily produced, from the flaps of his +boot, a paper pocket-book, containing a list, which he kept inside the +tops of his boot. After perusing it and reperusing it, he made suitable +reply. "Of the hundred and twenty curtains," he proceeded, "of stiff +spotted silks, embroidered with dragons in relief, and of the curtains +large and small, of every kind of damask silk, eighty were got +yesterday, so that there still remain forty of them to come. The two +portieres were both received yesterday; and besides these, there are the +two hundred red woollen portieres, two hundred portieres of Hsiang Fei +bamboo; two hundred door-screens of rattan, with gold streaks, and of +red lacquered bamboo; two hundred portieres of black lacquered rattan; +two hundred door-screens of variegated thread-netting with clusters of +flowers. Of each of these kinds, half have come in, but the whole lot of +them will be complete no later than autumn. Antimacassars, table-cloths, +flounces for the beds, and cushions for the stools, there are a thousand +two hundred of each, but these likewise are ready and at hand." + +As he spoke, they proceeded outwards, but suddenly they perceived a hill +extending obliquely in such a way as to intercept the passage; and as +they wound round the curve of the hill faintly came to view a line of +yellow mud walls, the whole length of which was covered with paddy +stalks for the sake of protection, and there were several hundreds of +apricot trees in bloom, which presented the appearance of being fire, +spurted from the mouth, or russet clouds, rising in the air. Inside this +enclosure, stood several thatched cottages. Outside grew, on the other +hand, mulberry trees, elms, mallows, and silkworm oaks, whose tender +shoots and new twigs, of every hue, were allowed to bend and to +intertwine in such a way as to form two rows of green fence. Beyond this +fence and below the white mound, was a well, by the side of which stood +a well-sweep, windlass and such like articles; the ground further down +being divided into parcels, and apportioned into fields, which, with the +fine vegetables and cabbages in flower, presented, at the first glance, +the aspect of being illimitable. + +"This is," Chia Cheng observed chuckling, "the place really imbued with +a certain amount of the right principle; and laid out, though it has +been by human labour, yet when it strikes my eye, it so moves my heart, +that it cannot help arousing in me the wish to return to my native place +and become a farmer. But let us enter and rest a while." + +As he concluded these words, they were on the point of walking in, when +they unexpectedly discerned a stone, outside the trellis gate, by the +roadside, which had also been left as a place on which to inscribe a +motto. + +"Were a tablet," argued the whole company smilingly, "put up high in a +spot like this, to be filled up by and by, the rustic aspect of a farm +would in that case be completely done away with; and it will be better, +yea far better to erect this slab on the ground, as it will further make +manifest many points of beauty. But unless a motto could be composed of +the same excellence as that in Fan Shih-hu's song on farms, it will not +be adequate to express its charms!" + +"Gentlemen," observed Chia Cheng, "please suggest something." + +"A short while back," replied the whole company, "your son, venerable +brother, remarked that devising a new motto was not equal to quoting an +old one, and as sites of this kind have been already exhausted by +writers of days of old, wouldn't it be as well that we should +straightway call it the 'apricot blossom village?' and this will do +splendidly." + +When Chia Cheng heard this remark, he smiled and said, addressing +himself to Chia Chen: "This just reminds me that although this place is +perfect in every respect, there's still one thing wanting in the shape +of a wine board; and you had better then have one made to-morrow on the +very same pattern as those used outside in villages; and it needn't be +anything gaudy, but hung above the top of a tree by means of bamboos." + +Chia Chen assented. "There's no necessity," he went on to explain, "to +keep any other birds in here, but only to rear a few geese, ducks, fowls +and such like; as in that case they will be in perfect keeping with the +place." + +"A splendid idea!" Chia Cheng rejoined, along with all the party. + +"'Apricot blossom village' is really first-rate," continued Chia Cheng +as he again addressed himself to the company; "but the only thing is +that it encroaches on the real designation of the village; and it will +be as well to wait (until her highness comes), when we can request her +to give it a name." + +"Certainly!" answered the visitors with one voice; "but now as far as a +name goes, for mere form, let us all consider what expressions will be +suitable to employ." + +Pao-yue did not however give them time to think; nor did he wait for Chia +Cheng's permission, but suggested there and then: "In old poetical works +there's this passage: 'At the top of the red apricot tree hangs the flag +of an inn,' and wouldn't it be advisable, on this occasion, to +temporarily adopt the four words: 'the sign on the apricot tree is +visible'?" + +"'Is visible' is excellent," suggested the whole number of them, "and +what's more it secretly accords with the meaning implied by 'apricot +blossom village.'" + +"Were the two words 'apricot blossom' used for the name of the village, +they would be too commonplace and unsuitable;" added Pao-yue with a +sardonic grin, "but there's another passage in the works of a poet of +the T'ang era: 'By the wooden gate near the water the corn-flower emits +its fragrance;' and why not make use of the motto 'corn fragrance +village,' which will be excellent?" + +When the company heard his proposal, they, with still greater vigour, +unanimously combined in crying out "Capital!" as they clapped their +hands. + +Chia Cheng, with one shout, interrupted their cries, "You ignorant child +of wrath!" he ejaculated; "how many old writers can you know, and how +many stanzas of ancient poetical works can you remember, that you will +have the boldness to show off in the presence of all these experienced +gentlemen? (In allowing you to give vent to) all the nonsense you +uttered my object was no other than to see whether your brain was clear +or muddled; and all for fun's sake, that's all; and lo, you've taken +things in real earnest!" + +Saying this, he led the company into the interior of the hall with the +mallows. The windows were pasted with paper, and the bedsteads made of +wood, and all appearance of finery had been expunged, and Chia Cheng's +heart was naturally much gratified; but nevertheless, scowling angrily +at Pao-yue, "What do you think of this place?" he asked. + +When the party heard this question, they all hastened to stealthily give +a nudge to Pao-yue, with the express purpose of inducing him to say it +was nice; but Pao-yue gave no ear to what they all urged. "It's by far +below the spot," he readily replied, "designated 'a phoenix comes with +dignified air.'" + +"You ignorant stupid thing!" exclaimed Chia Cheng at these words; "what +you simply fancy as exquisite, with that despicable reliance of yours +upon luxury and display, are two-storied buildings and painted pillars! +But how can you know anything about this aspect so pure and unobtrusive, +and this is all because of that failing of not studying your books!" + +"Sir," hastily answered Pao-yue, "your injunctions are certainly correct; +but men of old have often made allusion to 'natural;' and what is, I +wonder, the import of these two characters?" + +The company had perceived what a perverse mind Pao yue possessed, and +they one and all were much surprised that he should be so silly beyond +the possibility of any change; and when now they heard the question he +asked, about the two characters representing "natural," they, with one +accord, speedily remarked, "Everything else you understand, and how is +it that on the contrary you don't know what 'natural' implies? The word +'natural' means effected by heaven itself and not made by human labour." + +"Well, just so," rejoined Pao-yue; "but the farm, which is laid out in +this locality, is distinctly the handiwork of human labour; in the +distance, there are no neighbouring hamlets; near it, adjoin no wastes; +though it bears a hill, the hill is destitute of streaks; though it be +close to water, this water has no spring; above, there is no pagoda +nestling in a temple; below, there is no bridge leading to a market; it +rises abrupt and solitary, and presents no grand sight! The palm would +seem to be carried by the former spot, which is imbued with the natural +principle, and possesses the charms of nature; for, though bamboos have +been planted in it, and streams introduced, they nevertheless do no +violence to the works executed. 'A natural landscape,' says, an ancient +author in four words; and why? Simply because he apprehended that what +was not land, would, by forcible ways, be converted into land; and that +what was no hill would, by unnatural means, be raised into a hill. And +ingenious though these works might be in a hundred and one ways, they +cannot, after all, be in harmony."... + +But he had no time to conclude, as Chia Cheng flew into a rage. "Drive +him off," he shouted; (but as Pao-yue) was on the point of going out, he +again cried out: "Come back! make up," he added, "another couplet, and +if it isn't clear, I'll for all this give you a slap on your mouth." + +Pao-yue had no alternative but to recite as follows: + + A spot in which the "Ko" fibre to bleach, as the fresh tide doth swell + the waters green! + A beauteous halo and a fragrant smell the man encompass who the cress + did pluck! + +Chia Cheng, after this recital, nodded his head. "This is still worse!" +he remarked, but as he reproved him, he led the company outside, and +winding past the mound, they penetrated among flowers, and wending their +steps by the willows, they touched the rocks and lingered by the stream. +Passing under the trellis with yellow roses, they went into the shed +with white roses; they crossed by the pavilion with peonies, and walked +through the garden, where the white peony grew; and entering the court +with the cinnamon roses, they reached the island of bananas. As they +meandered and zigzagged, suddenly they heard the rustling sound of the +water, as it came out from a stone cave, from the top of which grew +parasitic plants drooping downwards, while at its bottom floated the +fallen flowers. + +"What a fine sight!" they all exclaimed; "what beautiful scenery!" + +"Gentlemen," observed Chia Cheng, "what name do you propose for this +place?" + +"There's no further need for deliberation," the company rejoined; "for +this is just the very spot fit for the three words 'Wu Ling Spring.'" + +"This too is matter-of-fact!" Chia Cheng objected laughingly, "and +likewise antiquated." + +"If that won't do," the party smiled, "well then what about the four +characters implying 'An old cottage of a man of the Ch'in dynasty?'" + +"This is still more exceedingly plain!" interposed Pao-yue. "'The old +cottage of a man of the Ch'in dynasty' is meant to imply a retreat from +revolution, and how will it suit this place? Wouldn't the four +characters be better denoting 'an isthmus with smart weed, and a stream +with flowers'?" + +When Chia Cheng heard these words, he exclaimed: "You're talking still +more stuff and nonsense?" and forthwith entering the grotto, Chia Cheng +went on to ask of Chia Chen, "Are there any boats or not?" + +"There are to be," replied Chia Chen, "four boats in all from which to +pick the lotus, and one boat for sitting in; but they haven't now as yet +been completed." + +"What a pity!" Chia Cheng answered smilingly, "that we cannot go in." + +"But we could also get into it by the tortuous path up the hill," Chia +Chen ventured; and after finishing this remark, he walked ahead to show +the way, and the whole party went over, holding on to the creepers, and +supporting themselves by the trees, when they saw a still larger +quantity of fallen leaves on the surface of the water, and the stream +itself, still more limpid, gently and idly meandering along on its +circuitous course. By the bank of the pond were two rows of weeping +willows, which, intermingling with peach and apricot trees, screened the +heavens from view, and kept off the rays of the sun from this spot, +which was in real truth devoid of even a grain of dust. + +Suddenly, they espied in the shade of the willows, an arched wooden +bridge also reveal itself to the eye, with bannisters of vermilion +colour. They crossed the bridge, and lo, all the paths lay open before +them; but their gaze was readily attracted by a brick cottage spotless +and cool-looking; whose walls were constructed of polished bricks, of +uniform colour; (whose roof was laid) with speckless tiles; and whose +enclosing walls were painted; while the minor slopes, which branched off +from the main hill, all passed along under the walls on to the other +side. + +"This house, in a site like this, is perfectly destitute of any charm!" +added Chia Cheng. + +And as they entered the door, abruptly appeared facing them, a large +boulder studded with holes and soaring high in the skies, which was +surrounded on all four sides by rocks of every description, and +completely, in fact, hid from view the rooms situated in the compound. +But of flowers or trees, there was not even one about; and all that was +visible were a few strange kinds of vegetation; some being of the +creeper genus, others parasitic plants, either hanging from the apex of +the hill, or inserting themselves into the base of the rocks; drooping +down even from the eaves of the house, entwining the pillars, and +closing round the stone steps. Or like green bands, they waved and +flapped; or like gold thread, they coiled and bent, either with seeds +resembling cinnabar, or with blossoms like golden olea; whose fragrance +and aroma could not be equalled by those emitted by flowers of ordinary +species. + +"This is pleasant!" Chia Cheng could not refrain from saying; "the only +thing is that I don't know very much about flowers." + +"What are here are lianas and ficus pumila!" some of the company +observed. + +"How ever can the liana and the ficus have such unusual scent?" +questioned Chia Cheng. + +"Indeed they aren't!" interposed Pao-yue. "Among all these flowers, there +are also ficus and liana, but those scented ones are iris, ligularia, +and 'Wu' flowers; that kind consist, for the most part, of 'Ch'ih' +flowers and orchids; while this mostly of gold-coloured dolichos. That +species is the hypericum plant, this the 'Yue Lu' creeper. The red ones +are, of course, the purple rue; the green ones consist for certain, of +the green 'Chih' plant; and, to the best of my belief, these various +plants are mentioned in the 'Li Sao' and 'Wen Hsuan.' These rare plants +are, some of them called something or other like 'Huo Na' and 'Chiang +Hui;' others again are designated something like 'Lun Tsu' and 'Tz'u +Feng;' while others there are whose names sound like 'Shih Fan,' 'Shui +Sung' and 'Fu Liu,' which together with other species are to be found in +the 'Treatise about the Wu city' by Tso T'ai-chung. There are also those +which go under the appellation of 'Lu T'i,' or something like that; +while there are others that are called something or other like 'Tan +Chiao,' 'Mi Wu' and 'Feng Lien;' reference to which is made in the +'Treatise on the Shu city.' But so many years have now elapsed, and the +times have so changed (since these treatises were written), that people, +being unable to discriminate (the real names) may consequently have had +to appropriate in every case such names as suited the external aspect, +so that they may, it is quite possible, have gradually come to be called +by wrong designations." + +But he had no time to conclude; for Chia Cheng interrupted him. "Who has +ever asked you about it?" he shouted; which plunged Pao-yue into such a +fright, that he drew back, and did not venture to utter another word. + +Chia Cheng perceiving that on both sides alike were covered passages +resembling outstretched arms, forthwith continued his steps and entered +the covered way, when he caught sight, at the upper end, of a +five-roomed building, without spot or blemish, with folding blinds +extending in a connected line, and with corridors on all four sides; (a +building) which with its windows so green, and its painted walls, +excelled, in spotless elegance, the other buildings they had seen +before, to which it presented such a contrast. + +Chia Cheng heaved a sigh. "If one were able," he observed, "to boil his +tea and thrum his lyre in here, there wouldn't even be any need for him +to burn any more incense. But the execution of this structure is so +beyond conception that you must, gentlemen, compose something nice and +original to embellish the tablet with, so as not to render such a place +of no effect!" + +"There's nothing so really pat," suggested the company smiling; "as 'the +orchid-smell-laden breeze' and 'the dew-bedecked epidendrum!" + +"These are indeed the only four characters," rejoined Chia Cheng, "that +could be suitably used; but what's to be said as far as the scroll +goes?" + +"I've thought of a couplet," interposed one of the party, "which you'll +all have to criticise, and put into ship-shape; its burden is this: + + "The musk-like epidendrum smell enshrouds the court, where shines the + sun with oblique beams; + The iris fragrance is wafted over the isle illumined by the moon's + clear rays." + +"As far as excellence is concerned, it's excellent," observed the whole +party, "but the two words representing 'with oblique beams' are not +felicitous." + +And as some one quoted the line from an old poem: + + The angelica fills the court with tears, what time the sun doth slant. + +"Lugubrious, lugubrious!" expostulated the company with one voice. + +Another person then interposed. "I also have a couplet, whose merits +you, gentlemen, can weigh; it runs as follows: + + "Along the three pathways doth float the Yue Hui scented breeze! + The radiant moon in the whole hall shines on the gold orchid!" + +Chia Cheng tugged at his moustache and gave way to meditation. He was +just about also to suggest a stanza, when, upon suddenly raising his +head, he espied Pao-yue standing by his side, too timid to give vent to a +single sound. + +"How is it," he purposely exclaimed, "that when you should speak, you +contrariwise don't? Is it likely that you expect some one to request you +to confer upon us the favour of your instruction?" + +"In this place," Pao-yue rejoined at these words, "there are no such +things as orchids, musk, resplendent moon or islands; and were one to +begin quoting such specimens of allusions, to scenery, two hundred +couplets could be readily given without, even then, having been able to +exhaust the supply!" + +"Who presses your head down," Chia Cheng urged, "and uses force that you +must come out with all these remarks?" + +"Well, in that case," added Pao-yue, "there are no fitter words to put on +the tablet than the four representing: 'The fragrance pure of the +ligularia and iris.' While the device on the scroll might be: + + "Sung is the nutmeg song, but beauteous still is the sonnet! + Near the T'u Mei to sleep, makes e'en a dream with fragrance full!" + +"This is," laughed Chia Cheng sneeringly, "an imitation of the line: + + "A book when it is made of plaintain leaves, the writing green is also + bound to be! + +"So that there's nothing remarkable about it." + +"Li T'ai-po, in his work on the Phoenix Terrace," protested the whole +party, "copied, in every point, the Huang Hua Lou. But what's essential +is a faultless imitation. Now were we to begin to criticise minutely the +couplet just cited, we would indeed find it to be, as compared with the +line 'A book when it is made of plantain leaves,' still more elegant and +of wider application!" + +"What an idea?" observed Chia Cheng derisively. + +But as he spoke, the whole party walked out; but they had not gone very +far before they caught sight of a majestic summer house, towering high +peak-like, and of a structure rising loftily with storey upon storey; +and completely locked in as they were on every side they were as +beautiful as the Jade palace. Far and wide, road upon road coiled and +wound; while the green pines swept the eaves, the jady epidendrum +encompassed the steps, the animals' faces glistened like gold, and the +dragons' heads shone resplendent in their variegated hues. + +"This is the Main Hall," remarked Chia Cheng; "the only word against it +is that there's a little too much finery." + +"It should be so," rejoined one and all, "so as to be what it's intended +to be! The imperial consort has, it is true, an exalted preference for +economy and frugality, but her present honourable position requires the +observance of such courtesies, so that (finery) is no fault." + +As they made these remarks and advanced on their way the while, they +perceived, just in front of them, an archway project to view, +constructed of jadelike stone; at the top of which the coils of large +dragons and the scales of small dragons were executed in perforated +style. + +"What's the device to be for this spot?" inquired Chia Cheng. + +"It should be 'fairy land,'" suggested all of them, "so as to be +apposite!" + +Chia Cheng nodded his head and said nothing. But as soon as Pao-yue +caught sight of this spot something was suddenly aroused in his heart +and he began to ponder within himself. "This place really resembles +something that I've seen somewhere or other." But he could not at the +moment recall to mind what year, moon, or day this had happened. + +Chia Cheng bade him again propose a motto; but Pao-yue was bent upon +thinking over the details of the scenery he had seen on a former +occasion, and gave no thought whatever to this place, so that the whole +company were at a loss what construction to give to his silence, and +came simply to the conclusion that, after the bullying he had had to put +up with for ever so long, his spirits had completely vanished, his +talents become exhausted and his speech impoverished; and that if he +were harassed and pressed, he might perchance, as the result of anxiety, +contract some ailment or other, which would of course not be a suitable +issue, and they lost no time in combining together to dissuade Chia +Cheng. + +"Never mind," they said, "to-morrow will do to compose some device; +let's drop it now." + +Chia Cheng himself was inwardly afraid lest dowager lady Chia should be +anxious, so that he hastily remarked as he forced a smile. "You beast, +there are, after all, also occasions on which you are no good! but never +mind! I'll give you one day to do it in, and if by to-morrow you haven't +been able to compose anything, I shall certainly not let you off. This +is the first and foremost place and you must exercise due care in what +you write." + +Saying this, he sallied out, at the head of the company, and cast +another glance at the scenery. + +Indeed from the time they had entered the gate up to this stage, they +had just gone over five or six tenths of the whole ground, when it +happened again that a servant came and reported that some one had +arrived from Mr. Yue-'ts'un's to deliver a message. "These several places +(which remain)," Chia Cheng observed with a smile, "we have no time to +pass under inspection; but we might as well nevertheless go out at least +by that way, as we shall be able, to a certain degree, to have a look at +the general aspect." + +With these words, he showed the way for the family companions until they +reached a large bridge, with water entering under it, looking like a +curtain made of crystal. This bridge, the fact is, was the dam, which +communicated with the river outside, and from which the stream was +introduced into the grounds. + +"What's the name of this water-gate?" Chia Cheng inquired. + +"This is," replied Pao-yue, "the main stream of the Hsin Fang river, and +is therefore called the Hsin Fang water-gate." + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed Chia Cheng. "The two words Hsin Fang must on no +account be used!" + +And as they speedily advanced on their way, they either came across +elegant halls, or thatched cottages; walls made of piled-up stone, or +gates fashioned of twisted plants; either a secluded nunnery or Buddhist +fane, at the foot of some hill; or some unsullied houses, hidden in a +grove, tenanted by rationalistic priestesses; either extensive corridors +and winding grottoes; or square buildings, and circular pavilions. But +Chia Cheng had not the energy to enter any of these places, for as he +had not had any rest for ever so long, his legs felt shaky and his feet +weak. + +Suddenly they also discerned ahead of them a court disclose itself to +view. + +"When we get there," Chia Cheng suggested, "we must have a little rest." +Straightway as he uttered the remark, he led them in, and winding round +the jade-green peach-trees, covered with blossom, they passed through +the bamboo fence and flower-laden hedge, which were twisted in such a +way as to form a circular, cavelike gateway, when unexpectedly appeared +before their eyes an enclosure with whitewashed walls, in which verdant +willows drooped in every direction. + +Chia Cheng entered the gateway in company with the whole party. Along +the whole length of both sides extended covered passages, connected with +each other; while in the court were laid out several rockeries. In one +quarter were planted a number of banana trees; on the opposite stood a +plant of begonia from Hsi Fu. Its appearance was like an open umbrella. +The gossamer hanging (from its branches) resembled golden threads. The +corollas (seemed) to spurt out cinnabar. + +"What a beautiful flower! what a beautiful flower!" ejaculated the whole +party with one voice; "begonias are verily to be found; but never before +have we seen anything the like of this in beauty." + +"This is called the maiden begonia and is, in fact, a foreign species," +Chia Cheng observed. "There's a homely tradition that it is because it +emanates from the maiden kingdom that its flowers are most prolific; but +this is likewise erratic talk and devoid of common sense." + +"They are, after all," rejoined the whole company, "so unlike others (we +have seen), that what's said about the maiden kingdom is, we are +inclined to believe, possibly a fact." + +"I presume," interposed Pao-yue, "that some clever bard or poet, +(perceiving) that this flower was red like cosmetic, delicate as if +propped up in sickness, and that it closely resembled the nature of a +young lady, gave it, consequently, the name of maiden! People in the +world will propagate idle tales, all of which are unavoidably treated as +gospel!" + +"We receive (with thanks) your instructions; what excellent +explanation!" they all remarked unanimously, and as they expressed these +words, the whole company took their seats on the sofas under the +colonnade. + +"Let's think of some original text or other for a motto," Chia Cheng +having suggested, one of the companions opined that the two characters: +"Banana and stork" would be felicitous; while another one was of the +idea that what would be faultless would be: "Collected splendour and +waving elegance!" + +"'Collected splendour and waving elegance' is excellent," Chia Cheng +observed addressing himself to the party; and Pao-yue himself, while also +extolling it as beautiful, went on to say: "There's only one thing +however to be regretted!" + +"What about regret?" the company inquired. + +"In this place," Pao-yue explained, "are set out both bananas as well as +begonias, with the intent of secretly combining in them the two +properties of red and green; and if mention of one of them be made, and +the other be omitted, (the device) won't be good enough for selection." + +"What would you then suggest?" Chia Cheng asked. + +"I would submit the four words, 'the red (flowers) are fragrant, the +green (banana leaves) like jade,' which would render complete the +beauties of both (the begonias and bananas)." + +"It isn't good! it isn't good!" Chia Cheng remonstrated as he shook his +head; and while passing this remark, he conducted the party into the +house, where they noticed that the internal arrangements effected +differed from those in other places, as no partitions could, in fact, be +discerned. Indeed, the four sides were all alike covered with boards +carved hollow with fretwork, (in designs consisting) either of rolling +clouds and hundreds of bats; or of the three friends of the cold season +of the year, (fir, bamboo and almond); of scenery and human beings, or +of birds or flowers; either of clusters of decoration, or of relics of +olden times; either of ten thousand characters of happiness or of ten +thousand characters of longevity. The various kinds of designs had been +all carved by renowned hands, in variegated colours, inlaid with gold, +and studded with precious gems; while on shelf upon shelf were either +arranged collections of books, or tripods were laid out; either pens and +inkslabs were distributed about, or vases with flowers set out, or +figured pots were placed about; the designs of the shelves being either +round or square; or similar to sunflowers or banana leaves; or like +links, half overlapping each other. And in very truth they resembled +bouquets of flowers or clusters of tapestry, with all their fretwork so +transparent. Suddenly (the eye was struck) by variegated gauzes pasted +(on the wood-work), actually forming small windows; and of a sudden by +fine thin silks lightly overshadowing (the fretwork) just as if there +were, after all, secret doors. The whole walls were in addition traced, +with no regard to symmetry, with outlines of the shapes of curios and +nick-nacks in imitation of lutes, double-edged swords, hanging bottles +and the like, the whole number of which, though (apparently) suspended +on the walls, were all however on a same level with the surface of the +partition walls. + +"What fine ingenuity!" they all exclaimed extollingly; "what a labour +they must have been to carry out!" + +Chia Cheng had actually stepped in; but scarcely had they reached the +second stage, before the whole party readily lost sight of the way by +which they had come in. They glanced on the left, and there stood a +door, through which they could go. They cast their eyes on the right, +and there was a window which suddenly impeded their progress. They went +forward, but there again they were obstructed by a bookcase. They turned +their heads round, and there too stood windows pasted with transparent +gauze and available door-ways: but the moment they came face to face +with the door, they unexpectedly perceived that a whole company of +people had likewise walked in, just in front of them, whose appearance +resembled their own in every respect. But it was only a mirror. And when +they rounded the mirror, they detected a still larger number of doors. + +"Sir," Chia Chen remarked with a grin; "if you'll follow me out through +this door, we'll forthwith get into the back-court; and once out of the +back-court, we shall be, at all events, nearer than we were before." + +Taking the lead, he conducted Chia Cheng and the whole party round two +gauze mosquito houses, when they verily espied a door through which they +made their exit, into a court, replete with stands of cinnamon roses. +Passing round the flower-laden hedge, the only thing that spread before +their view was a pure stream impeding their advance. The whole company +was lost in admiration. "Where does this water again issue from?" they +cried. + +Chia Chen pointed to a spot at a distance. "Starting originally," he +explained, "from that water-gate, it runs as far as the mouth of that +cave, when from among the hills on the north-east side, it is introduced +into that village, where again a diverging channel has been opened and +it is made to flow in a south-westerly direction; the whole volume of +water then runs to this spot, where collecting once more in one place, +it issues, on its outward course, from beneath that wall." + +"It's most ingenious!" they one and all exclaimed, after they had +listened to him; but, as they uttered these words, they unawares +realised that a lofty hill obstructed any further progress. The whole +party felt very hazy about the right road. But "Come along after me," +Chia Chen smilingly urged, as he at once went ahead and showed the way, +whereupon the company followed in his steps, and as soon as they turned +round the foot of the hill, a level place and broad road lay before +them; and wide before their faces appeared the main entrance. + +"This is charming! this is delightful!" the party unanimously exclaimed, +"what wits must have been ransacked, and ingenuity attained, so as to +bring things to this extreme degree of excellence!" + +Forthwith the party egressed from the garden, and Pao-yue's heart +anxiously longed for the society of the young ladies in the inner +quarters, but as he did not hear Chia Cheng bid him go, he had no help +but to follow him into the library. But suddenly Chia Cheng bethought +himself of him. "What," he said, "you haven't gone yet! the old lady +will I fear be anxious on your account; and is it pray that you haven't +as yet had enough walking?" + +Pao-yue at length withdrew out of the library. On his arrival in the +court, a page, who had been in attendance on Chia Cheng, at once pressed +forward, and took hold of him fast in his arms. "You've been lucky +enough," he said, "to-day to have been in master's good graces! just a +while back when our old mistress despatched servants to come on several +occasions and ask after you, we replied that master was pleased with +you; for had we given any other answer, her ladyship would have sent to +fetch you to go in, and you wouldn't have had an opportunity of +displaying your talents. Every one admits that the several stanzas you +recently composed were superior to those of the whole company put +together; but you must, after the good luck you've had to-day, give us a +tip!" + +"I'll give each one of you a tiao," Pao-yue rejoined smirkingly. + +"Who of us hasn't seen a tiao?" they all exclaimed, "let's have that +purse of yours, and have done with it!" + +Saying this, one by one advanced and proceeded to unloosen the purse, +and to unclasp the fan-case; and allowing Pao-yue no time to make any +remonstrance, they stripped him of every ornament in the way of +appendage which he carried about on his person. "Whatever we do let's +escort him home!" they shouted, and one after another hustled round him +and accompanied him as far as dowager lady Chia's door. + +Her ladyship was at this moment awaiting his arrival, so that when she +saw him walk in, and she found out that (Chia Cheng) had not bullied +him, she felt, of course, extremely delighted. But not a long interval +elapsed before Hsi Jen came to serve the tea; and when she perceived +that on his person not one of the ornaments remained, she consequently +smiled and inquired: "Have all the things that you had on you been again +taken away by these barefaced rascals?" + +As soon as Lin Tai-yue heard this remark, she crossed over to him and saw +at a glance that not one single trinket was, in fact, left. "Have you +also given them," she felt constrained to ask, "the purse that I gave +you? Well, by and by, when you again covet anything of mine, I shan't +let you have it." + +After uttering these words, she returned into her apartment in high +dudgeon, and taking the scented bag, which Pao-yue had asked her to make +for him, and which she had not as yet finished, she picked up a pair of +scissors, and instantly cut it to pieces. + +Pao-yue noticing that she had lost her temper, came after her with +hurried step, but the bag had already been cut with the scissors; and as +Pao-yue observed how extremely fine and artistic this scented bag was, in +spite of its unfinished state, he verily deplored that it should have +been rent to pieces for no rhyme or reason. Promptly therefore +unbuttoning his coat, he produced from inside the lapel the purse, which +had been fastened there. "Look at this!" he remarked as he handed it to +Tai-yue; "what kind of thing is this! have I given away to any one what +was yours?" Lin Tai-yue, upon seeing how much he prized it as to wear it +within his clothes, became alive to the fact that it was done with +intent, as he feared lest any one should take it away; and as this +conviction made her sorry that she had been so impetuous as to have cut +the scented bag, she lowered her head and uttered not a word. + +"There was really no need for you to have cut it," Pao-yue observed; "but +as I know that you're loth to give me anything, what do you say to my +returning even this purse?" + +With these words, he threw the purse in her lap and walked off; which +vexed Tai-yue so much the more that, after giving way to tears, she took +up the purse in her hands to also destroy it with the scissors, when +Pao-yue precipitately turned round and snatched it from her grasp. + +"My dear cousin," he smilingly pleaded, "do spare it!" and as Tai-yue +dashed down the scissors and wiped her tears: "You needn't," she urged, +"be kind to me at one moment, and unkind at another; if you wish to have +a tiff, why then let's part company!" But as she spoke, she lost control +over her temper, and, jumping on her bed, she lay with her face turned +towards the inside, and set to work drying her eyes. + +Pao-yue could not refrain from approaching her. "My dear cousin, my own +cousin," he added, "I confess my fault!" + +"Go and find Pao-yue!" dowager lady Chia thereupon gave a shout from +where she was in the front apartment, and all the attendants explained +that he was in Miss Lin's room. + +"All right, that will do! that will do!" her ladyship rejoined, when she +heard this reply; "let the two cousins play together; his father kept +him a short while back under check, for ever so long, so let him have +some distraction. But the only thing is that you mustn't allow them to +have any quarrels." To which the servants in a body expressed their +obedience. + +Tai-yue, unable to put up with Pao-yue's importunity, felt compelled to +rise. "Your object seems to be," she remarked, "not to let me have any +rest. If it is, I'll run away from you." Saying which, she there and +then was making her way out, when Pao-yue protested with a face full of +smiles: "Wherever you go, I'll follow!" and as he, at the same time, +took the purse and began to fasten it on him, Tai-yue stretched out her +hand, and snatching it away, "You say you don't want it," she observed, +"and now you put it on again! I'm really much ashamed on your account!" +And these words were still on her lips when with a sound of Ch'ih, she +burst out laughing. + +"My dear cousin," Pao-yue added, "to-morrow do work another scented bag +for me!" + +"That too will rest upon my good pleasure," Tai-yue rejoined. + +As they conversed, they both left the room together and walked into +madame Wang's suite of apartments, where, as luck would have it, +Pao-ch'ai was also seated. + +Unusual commotion prevailed, at this time, over at madame Wang's, for +the fact is that Chia Se had already come back from Ku Su, where he had +selected twelve young girls, and settled about an instructor, as well as +about the theatrical properties and the other necessaries. And as Mrs. +Hsueeh had by this date moved her quarters into a separate place on the +northeast side, and taken up her abode in a secluded and quiet house, +(madame Wang) had had repairs of a distinct character executed in the +Pear Fragrance Court, and then issued directions that the instructor +should train the young actresses in this place; and casting her choice +upon all the women, who had, in days of old, received a training in +singing, and who were now old matrons with white hair, she bade them +have an eye over them and keep them in order. Which done, she enjoined +Chia Se to assume the chief control of all matters connected with the +daily and monthly income and outlay, as well as of the accounts of all +articles in use of every kind and size. + +Lin Chih-hsiao also came to report: "that the twelve young nuns and +Taoist girls, who had been purchased after proper selection, had all +arrived, and that the twenty newly-made Taoist coats had also been +received. That there was besides a maiden, who though devoted to +asceticism, kept her chevelure unshaved; that she was originally a +denizen of Suchow, of a family whose ancestors were also people of +letters and official status; that as from her youth up she had been +stricken with much sickness, (her parents) had purchased a good number +of substitutes (to enter the convent), but all with no relief to her, +until at last this girl herself entered the gate of abstraction when she +at once recovered. That hence it was that she grew her hair, while she +devoted herself to an ascetic life; that she was this year eighteen +years of age, and that the name given to her was Miao Yue; that her +father and mother were, at this time, already dead; that she had only by +her side, two old nurses and a young servant girl to wait upon her; that +she was most proficient in literature, and exceedingly well versed in +the classics and canons; and that she was likewise very attractive as +far as looks went; that having heard that in the city of Ch'ang-an, +there were vestiges of Kuan Yin and relics of the canons inscribed on +leaves, she followed, last year, her teacher (to the capital). She now +lives," he said, "in the Lao Ni nunnery, outside the western gate; her +teacher was a great expert in prophetic divination, but she died in the +winter of last year, and her dying words were that as it was not +suitable for (Miao Yue) to return to her native place, she should await +here, as something in the way of a denouement was certain to turn up; +and this is the reason why she hasn't as yet borne the coffin back to +her home!" + +"If such be the case," madame Wang readily suggested, "why shouldn't we +bring her here?" + +"If we are to ask her," Lin Chih-hsiao's wife replied, "she'll say that +a marquis' family and a duke's household are sure, in their honourable +position, to be overbearing to people; and I had rather not go." + +"As she's the daughter of an official family," madame Wang continued, +"she's bound to be inclined to be somewhat proud; but what harm is there +to our sending her a written invitation to ask her to come!" + +Lin Chih-hsiao's wife assented; and leaving the room, she made the +secretary write an invitation and then went to ask Miao Yue. The next day +servants were despatched, and carriages and sedan chairs were got ready +to go and bring her over. + +What subsequently transpired is not as yet known, but, reader, listen to +the account given in the following chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + His Majesty shows magnanimous bounty. + The Imperial consort Yuan pays a visit to her parents. + The happiness of a family gathering. + Pao-yue displays his polished talents. + + +But let us resume our story. A servant came, at this moment, to report +that for the works in course of execution, they were waiting for gauze +and damask silk to paste on various articles, and that they requested +lady Feng to go and open the depot for them to take the gauze and silk, +while another servant also came to ask lady Feng to open the treasury +for them to receive the gold and silver ware. And as Madame Wang, the +waiting-maids and the other domestics of the upper rooms had all no +leisure, Pao-ch'ai suggested: "Don't let us remain in here and be in the +way of their doing what there is to be done, and of going where they +have to go," and saying this, she betook herself, escorted by Pao-yue and +the rest, into Ying Ch'un's rooms. + +Madame Wang continued day after day in a great state of flurry and +confusion, straight up to within the tenth moon, by which time every +arrangement had been completed, and the overseers had all handed in a +clear statement of their accounts. The curios and writing materials, +wherever needed, had all already been laid out and everything got ready, +and the birds (and animals), from the stork, the deer and rabbits to the +chickens, geese and the like, had all been purchased and handed over to +be reared in the various localities in the garden; and over at Chia +Se's, had also been learnt twenty miscellaneous plays, while a company +of young nuns and Taoist priestesses had likewise the whole number of +them, mastered the intonation of Buddhist classics and incantations. + +Chia Cheng after this, at length, was slightly composed in mind, and +cheerful at heart; and having further invited dowager lady Chia and +other inmates to go into the garden, he deliberated with them on, and +made arrangements for, every detail in such a befitting manner that not +the least trifle remained for which suitable provision had not been +made; and Chia Cheng eventually mustered courage to indite a memorial, +and on the very day on which the memorial was presented, a decree was +received fixing upon the fifteenth day of the first moon of the ensuing +year, the very day of the Shang Yuan festival, for the honourable +consorts to visit their homes. + +Upon the receipt of this decree, with which the Chia family was +honoured, they had still less leisure, both by day as well as by night; +so much so that they could not even properly observe the new year +festivities. But in a twinkle of the eye, the festival of the full moon +of the first moon drew near; and beginning from the eighth day of the +first moon, eunuchs issued from the palace and inspected beforehand the +various localities, the apartments in which the imperial consort was to +change her costume; the place where she would spend her leisure moments; +the spot where she would receive the conventionalities; the premises +where the banquets would be spread; the quarters where she would retire +for rest. + +There were also eunuchs who came to assume the patrol of the grounds and +the direction of the defences; and they brought along with them a good +many minor eunuchs, whose duty it was to look after the safety of the +various localities, to screen the place with enclosing curtains, to +instruct the inmates and officials of the Chia mansion whither to go out +and whence to come in from, what side the viands should be brought in +from, where to report matters, and in the observance of every kind of +etiquette; and for outside the mansion, there were, on the other hand, +officers from the Board of Works, and a superintendent of the Police, of +the "Five Cities," in charge of the sweeping of the streets and roads, +and the clearing away of loungers. While Chia She and the others +superintended the workmen in such things as the manufacture of flowered +lanterns and fireworks. + +The fourteenth day arrived and everything was in order; but on this +night, one and all whether high or low, did not get a wink of sleep; and +when the fifteenth came, every one, at the fifth watch, beginning from +dowager lady Chia and those who enjoyed any official status, appeared in +full gala dress, according to their respective ranks. In the garden, the +curtains were, by this time, flapping like dragons, the portieres flying +about like phoenixes with variegated plumage. Gold and silver glistened +with splendour. Pearls and precious gems shed out their brilliant +lustre. The tripod censers burnt the Pai-ho incense. In the vases were +placed evergreens. Silence and stillness prevailed, and not a man +ventured so much as to cough. + +Chia She and the other men were standing outside the door giving on to +the street on the west; and old lady Chia and the other ladies were +outside the main entrance of the Jung mansion at the head of the street, +while at the mouth of the lane were placed screens to rigorously +obstruct the public gaze. They were unable to bear the fatigue of any +further waiting when, at an unexpected moment, a eunuch arrived on +horseback, and Chia Cheng went up to meet him, and ascertained what +tidings he was the bearer of. + +"It's as yet far too early," rejoined the eunuch, "for at one o'clock +(her highness) will have her evening repast, and at two she has to +betake herself to the Palace of Precious Perception to worship Buddha. +At five, she will enter the Palace of Great Splendour to partake of a +banquet, and to see the lanterns, after which, she will request His +Majesty's permission; so that, I'm afraid, it won't be earlier than +seven before they set out." + +Lady Feng's ear caught what was said. "If such be the case," she +interposed, "may it please your venerable ladyship, and you, my lady, to +return for a while to your apartments, and wait; and if you come when +it's time you'll be here none too late." + +Dowager lady Chia and the other ladies immediately left for a time and +suited their own convenience, and as everything in the garden devolved +upon lady Feng to supervise, she ordered the butlers to take the eunuchs +and give them something to eat and drink; and at the same time, she sent +word that candles should be brought in and that the lanterns in the +various places should be lit. + +But unexpectedly was heard from outside the continuous patter of horses +running, whereupon about ten eunuchs hurried in gasping and out of +breath. They clapped their hands, and the several eunuchs (who had come +before), understanding the signal, and knowing that the party had +arrived, stood in their respective positions; while Chia She, at the +head of all the men of the clan, remained at the western street door, +and dowager lady Chia, at the head of the female relatives of the +family, waited outside the principal entrance to do the honours. + +For a long interval, everything was plunged in silence and quiet; when +suddenly two eunuchs on horseback were espied advancing with leisurely +step. Reaching the western street gate, they dismounted, and, driving +their horses beyond the screens, they forthwith took their stand facing +the west. After another long interval, a second couple arrived, and went +likewise through the same proceedings. In a short time, drew near about +ten couples, when, at length, were heard the gentle strains of music, +and couple by couple advanced with banners, dragons, with fans made with +phoenix feathers, and palace flabella of pheasant plumes; and those +besides who carried gold-washed censers burning imperial incense. Next +in order was brought past a state umbrella of golden yellow, with +crooked handle and embroidered with seven phoenixes; after which quickly +followed the crown, robe, girdle and shoes. + +There were likewise eunuchs, who took a part in the procession, holding +scented handkerchiefs and embroidered towels, cups for rinsing the +mouth, dusters and other such objects; and company after company went +past, when, at the rear, approached with stately step eight eunuchs +carrying an imperial sedan chair, of golden yellow, with a gold knob and +embroidered with phoenixes. + +Old lady Chia and the other members of the family hastily fell on their +knees, but a eunuch came over at once to raise her ladyship and the +rest; and the imperial chair was thereupon carried through the main +entrance, the ceremonial gate and into a court on the eastern side, at +the door of which stood a eunuch, who prostrated himself and invited +(her highness) to dismount and change her costume. + +Having forthwith carried her inside the gate, the eunuchs dispersed; and +only the maids-of-honour and ladies-in-waiting ushered Yuan Ch'un out of +the chair, when what mainly attracted her eye in the park was the +brilliant lustre of the flowered lamps of every colour, all of which +were made of gauze or damask, and were beautiful in texture, and out of +the common run; while on the upper side was a flat lantern with the +inscription in four characters, "Regarded (by His Majesty's) benevolence +and permeated by his benefits." + +Yuan Ch'un entered the apartment and effected the necessary changes in +her toilette; after which, she again egressed, and, mounting her chair, +she made her entry into the garden, when she perceived the smoke of +incense whirling and twirling, and the reflection of the flowers +confusing the eyes. Far and wide, the rays of light, shed by the +lanterns, intermingled their brilliancy, while, from time to time, fine +strains of music sounded with clamorous din. But it would be impossible +to express adequately the perfect harmony in the aspect of this scene, +and the grandeur of affluence and splendour. + +The imperial consort of the Chia family, we must now observe, upon +catching sight, from the interior of her chair, of the picture presented +within as well as without the confines of this garden, shook her head +and heaved a sigh. "What lavish extravagance! What excessive waste!" she +soliloquised. + +But of a sudden was again seen a eunuch who, on his knees, invited her +to get into a boat; and the Chia consort descended from the chair and +stepped into the craft, when the expanse of a limpid stream met her +gaze, whose grandeur resembled that of the dragon in its listless +course. The stone bannisters, on each side, were one mass of air-tight +lanterns, of every colour, made of crystal or glass, which threw out a +light like the lustre of silver or the brightness of snow. + +The willow, almond and the whole lot of trees, on the upper side, were, +it is true, without blossom and leaves; but pongee and damask silks, +paper and lustring had been employed, together with rice-paper, to make +flowers of, which had been affixed on the branches. Upon each tree were +suspended thousands of lanterns; and what is more, the lotus and aquatic +plants, the ducks and water fowl in the pond had all, in like manner, +been devised out of conches and clams, plumes and feathers. The various +lanterns, above and below, vied in refulgence. In real truth, it was a +crystal region, a world of pearls and precious stones. On board the boat +were also every kind of lanterns representing such designs as are used +on flower-pots, pearl-laden portieres, embroidered curtains, oars of +cinnamon wood, and paddles of magnolia, which need not of course be +minutely described. + +They entered a landing with a stone curb; and on this landing was +erected a flat lantern upon which were plainly visible the four +characters the "Persicary beach and flower-laden bank." But, reader, you +have heard how that these four characters "the persicary beach and the +flower-laden bank," the motto "a phoenix comes with dignified air," and +the rest owe one and all their origin to the unexpected test to which +Chia Cheng submitted, on a previous occasion, Pao-yue's literary +abilities; but how did it come about that they were actually adopted? + +You must remember that the Chia family had been, generation after +generation, given to the study of letters, so that it was only natural +that there should be among them one or two renowned writers of verses; +for how could they ever resemble the families of such upstarts, who only +employ puerile expressions as a makeshift to get through what they have +to do? But the why and the wherefore must be sought in the past. The +consort, belonging to the Chia mansion, had, before she entered the +palace, been, from her infancy, also brought up by dowager lady Chia; +and when Pao-yue was subsequently added to the family, she was the eldest +sister and Pao-yue the youngest child. The Chia consort, bearing in mind +how that she had, when her mother was verging on old age, at length +obtained this younger brother, she for this reason doated upon him with +single love; and as they were besides companions in their attendance +upon old lady Chia, they were inseparable for even a moment. Before +Pao-yue had entered school, and when three or four years of age, he had +already received oral instruction from the imperial spouse Chia from the +contents of several books and had committed to memory several thousands +of characters, for though they were only sister and brother, they were +like mother and child. And after she had entered the Palace, she was +wont time and again to have letters taken out to her father and her +cousins, urgently recommending them to be careful with his bringing up, +that if they were not strict, he could not possibly become good for +anything, and that if they were immoderately severe, there was the +danger of something unpropitious befalling him, with the result, +moreover, that his grandmother would be stricken with sorrow; and this +solicitude on his account was never for an instant lost sight of by her. + +Hence it was that Chia Cheng having, a few days back, heard his teacher +extol him for his extreme abilities, he forthwith put him to the test on +the occasion of their ramble through the garden. And though (his +compositions) were not in the bold style of a writer of note, yet they +were productions of their own family, and would, moreover, be +instrumental, when the Chia consort had her notice attracted by them, +and come to know that they were devised by her beloved brother, in also +not rendering nugatory the anxious interest which she had ever +entertained on his behalf, and he, therefore, purposely adopted what had +been suggested by Pao-yue; while for those places, for which on that day +no devices had been completed, a good number were again subsequently +composed to make up what was wanted. + +After the Chia consort had, for we shall now return to her, perused the +four characters, she gave a smile. "The two words 'flower-laden bank,'" +she said, "are really felicitous, so what use was there for 'persicary +beach?'" + +When the eunuch in waiting heard this observation, he promptly jumped +off the craft on to the bank, and at a flying pace hurried to +communicate it to Chia Cheng, and Chia Cheng instantly effected the +necessary alteration. + +By this time the craft had reached the inner bank, and leaving the boat, +and mounting into her sedan chair, she in due course contemplated the +magnificent Jade-like Palace; the Hall of cinnamon wood, lofty and +sublime; and the marble portals with the four characters in bold style: +the "Precious confines of heavenly spirits," which the Chia consort gave +directions should be changed for the four words denoting: "additional +Hall (for the imperial consort) on a visit to her parents." And +forthwith making her entrance into the travelling lodge her gaze was +attracted by torches burning in the court encompassing the heavens, +fragments of incense strewn on the ground, fire-like trees and gem-like +flowers, gold-like windows and jade-like bannisters. But it would be +difficult to give a full account of the curtains, which rolled up (as +fine as a) shrimp's moustache; of the carpets of other skins spread on +the floor; of the tripods exhaling the fragrant aroma of the brain of +the musk deer; of the screens in a row resembling fans made of pheasant +tails. Indeed, the gold-like doors and the windows like jade were +suggestive of the abode of spirits; while the halls made of cinnamon +wood and the palace of magnolia timber, of the very homes of the +imperial secondary consorts. + +"Why is it," the Chia consort inquired, "that there is no tablet in this +Hall?" + +The eunuch in waiting fell on his knees. "This is the main Hall," he +reverently replied, "and the officials, outside the palace, did not +presume to take upon themselves to suggest any motto." + +The Chia consort shook her head and said not a word; whereupon the +eunuch, who acted as master of ceremonies, requested Her Majesty to +ascend the throne and receive homage. The band stationed on the two +flights of steps struck up a tune, while two eunuchs ushered Chia She, +Chia Cheng and the other members on to the moonlike stage, where they +arranged themselves in order and ascended into the hall, but when the +ladies-in-waiting transmitted her commands that the homage could be +dispensed with, they at once retraced their footsteps. + +(The master of the ceremonies), in like manner led forward the dowager +lady of the Jung Kuo mansion, as well as the female relatives, from the +steps on the east side, on to the moon-like stage; where they were +placed according to their ranks. But the maids-of-honour again commanded +that they should dispense with the ceremony, so they likewise promptly +withdrew. + +After tea had been thrice presented, the Chia consort descended the +Throne, and the music ceased. She retired into a side room to change her +costume, and the private chairs were then got ready for her visit to her +parents. Issuing from the garden, she came into the main quarters +belonging to dowager lady Chia, where she was bent upon observing the +domestic conventionalities, when her venerable ladyship, and the other +members of the family, prostrated themselves in a body before her, and +made her desist. Tears dropped down from the eyes of the Chia consort as +(she and her relatives) mutually came forward, and greeted each other, +and as with one hand she grasped old lady Chia, and with the other she +held madame Wang, the three had plenty in their hearts which they were +fain to speak about; but, unable as each one of them was to give +utterance to their feelings, all they did was to sob and to weep, as +they kept face to face to each other; while madame Hsing, widow Li Wan, +Wang Hsi-feng, and the three sisters: Ying Ch'un, T'an Ch'un, and Hsi +Ch'un, stood aside in a body shedding tears and saying not a word. + +After a long time, the Chia consort restrained her anguish, and forcing +a smile, she set to work to reassure old lady Chia and madame Wang. +"Having in days gone by," she urged, "been sent to that place where no +human being can be seen, I have to-day after extreme difficulty returned +home; and now that you ladies and I have been reunited, instead of +chatting or laughing we contrariwise give way to incessant tears! But +shortly, I shall be gone, and who knows when we shall be able again to +even see each other!" + +When she came to this sentence, they could not help bursting into +another tit of crying; and Madame Hsing hastened to come forward, and to +console dowager lady Chia and the rest. But when the Chia consort +resumed her seat, and one by one came again, in turn, to exchange +salutations, they could not once more help weeping and sobbing for a +time. + +Next in order, were the managers and servants of the eastern and western +mansions to perform their obeisance in the outer pavilion; and after the +married women and waiting-maids had concluded their homage, the Chia +consort heaved a sigh. "How many relatives," she observed, "there are +all of whom, alas! I may not see." + +"There are here now," madame Wang rejoined with due respect, "kindred +with outside family names, such as Mrs. Hsueeh, nee Wang, Pao-ch'ai, and +Tai-yue waiting for your commands; but as they are distant relatives, and +without official status, they do not venture to arrogate to themselves +the right of entering into your presence." But the Chia consort issued +directions that they should be invited to come that they should see each +other; and in a short while, Mrs. Hsueeh and the other relatives walked +in, but as they were on the point of performing the rites, prescribed by +the state, she bade them relinquish the observance so that they came +forward, and each, in turn, alluded to what had transpired during the +long separation. + +Pao Ch'in also and a few other waiting-maids, whom the Chia consort had +originally taken along with her into the palace, knocked their heads +before dowager lady Chia, but her ladyship lost no time in raising them +up, and in bidding them go into a separate suite of rooms to be +entertained; and as for the retainers, eunuchs as well as +maids-of-honour, ladies-in-waiting and every attendant, there were +needless to say, those in the two places, the Ning mansion and Chia +She's residence, to wait upon them; there only remained three or four +young eunuchs to answer the summons. + +The mother and daughter and her cousins conversed for some time on what +had happened during the protracted separation, as well as on domestic +affairs and their private feelings, when Chia Cheng likewise advanced as +far as the other side of the portiere, and inquired after her health, +and the Chia consort from inside performed the homage and other +conventionalities (due to her parent). + +"The families of farmers," she further went on to say to her father, +"feed on salted cabbage, and clothe in cotton material; but they readily +enjoy the happiness of the relationships established by heaven! We, +however, relatives though we now be of one bone and flesh, are, with all +our affluence and honours, living apart from each other, and deriving no +happiness whatsoever!" + +Chia Cheng, on his part endeavoured, to restrain his tears. "I +belonged," he rejoined, "to a rustic and poor family; and among that +whole number of pigeons and pheasants, how could I have imagined that I +would have obtained the blessing of a hidden phoenix! Of late all for +the sake of your honourable self, His Majesty, above, confers upon us +his heavenly benefits; while we, below, show forth the virtue of our +ancestors! And it is mainly because the vital principle of the hills, +streams, sun, and moon, and the remote virtue of our ancestors have been +implanted in you alone that this good fortune has attained me Cheng and +my wife! Moreover, the present emperor, bearing in mind the great bounty +shewn by heaven and earth in promoting a ceaseless succession, has +vouchsafed a more generous act of grace than has ever been displayed +from old days to the present. And although we may besmear our liver and +brain in the mire, how could we show our gratitude, even to so slight a +degree as one ten-thousandth part. But all I can do is, in the daytime, +to practise diligence, vigilance at night, and loyalty in my official +duties. My humble wish is that His Majesty, my master, may live ten +thousand years and see thousands of autumns, so as to promote the +welfare of all mankind in the world! And you, worthy imperial consort, +must, on no account, be mindful of me Cheng and my wife, decrepid as we +are in years. What I would solicit more than anything is that you should +be more careful of yourself, and that you should be diligent and +reverential in your service to His Majesty, with the intent that you may +not prove ungrateful of his affectionate regard and bountiful grace." + +The Chia consort, on the other hand, enjoined "that much as it was +expedient to display zeal, in the management of state matters, it +behoved him, when he had any leisure, to take good care of himself, and +that he should not, whatever he did, give way to solicitude on her +behalf." And Chia Cheng then went on to say "that the various +inscriptions in the park over the pavilions, terraces, halls and +residences had been all composed by Pao-yue, and, that in the event of +there being one or two that could claim her attention, he would be happy +if it would please her to at once favour him with its name." Whereupon +the imperial consort Yuean, when she heard that Pao-yue could compose +verses, forthwith exclaimed with a smile: "He has in very truth made +progress!" + +After Chia Cheng had retired out of the hall, the Chia consort made it a +point to ask: "How is it that I do not see Pao-yue?" and dowager lady +Chia explained: "An outside male relative as he is, and without official +rank, he does not venture to appear before you of his own accord." + +"Bring him in!" the imperial consort directed; whereupon a young eunuch +ushered Pao-yue in. After he had first complied with the state +ceremonies, she bade him draw near to her, and taking his hand, she held +it in her lap, and, as she went on to caress his head and neck, she +smiled and said: "He's grown considerably taller than he was before;" +but she had barely concluded this remark, when her tears ran down as +profuse as rain. Mrs. Yu, lady Feng, and the rest pressed forward. "The +banquet is quite ready," they announced, "and your highness is requested +to favour the place with your presence." + +The imperial consort Yuan stood up and asking Pao-yue to lead the way, +she followed in his steps, along with the whole party, and betook +herself on foot as far as the entrance of the garden gate, whence she at +once espied, in the lustre shed by the lanterns, every kind of +decorations. Entering the garden, they first passed the spots with the +device "a phoenix comes with dignified air," "the red (flowers are) +fragrant and the green (banana leaves like) jade!" "the sign on the +apricot tree is visible," "the fragrance pure of the ligularia and +iris," and other places; and ascending the towers they walked up the +halls, forded the streams and wound round the hills; contemplating as +they turned their gaze from side to side, each place arranged in a +different style, and each kind of article laid out in unique designs. +The Chia consort expressed her admiration in most profuse eulogiums, and +then went on to advise them: "that it was not expedient to indulge in +future in such excessive extravagance and that all these arrangements +were over and above what should have been done." + +Presently they reached the main pavilion, where she commanded that they +could dispense with the rites and take their seats. A sumptuous banquet +was laid out, at which dowager lady Chia and the other ladies occupied +the lower seats and entertained each other, while Mrs. Yu, widow Li Wan, +lady Feng and the rest presented the soup and handed the cups. The +Imperial consort Yuan subsequently directed that the pencils and +inkslabs should be brought, and with her own hands she opened the silken +paper. She chose the places she liked, and conferred upon them a name; +and devising a general designation for the garden, she called it the Ta +Kuan garden (Broad vista), while for the tablet of the main pavilion the +device she composed ran as follows: "Be mindful of the grace and +remember the equity (of His Majesty);" with this inscription on the +antithetical scrolls: + + Mercy excessive Heaven and earth display, + And it men young and old hail gratefully; + From old till now they pour their bounties great + Those rich gifts which Cathay and all states permeate. + +Changing also the text: "A phoenix comes with dignified air for the +Hsiao Hsiang Lodge." + +"The red (flowers are) fragrant and the green (banana leaves like) +jade," she altered into "Happy red and joyful green"; bestowing upon the +place the appellation of the I Hung court (joyful red). The spot where +"the fragrance pure of the ligularia and iris," was inscribed, she +called "the ligularia and the 'Wu' weed court;" and where was "the sign +in the apricot tree is visible," she designated "the cottage in the +hills where dolichos is bleached." The main tower she called the Broad +Vista Tower. The lofty tower facing the east, she designated "the +variegated and flowery Hall;" bestowing on the line of buildings, facing +the west, the appellation of "the Hall of Occult Fragrance;" and besides +these figured such further names as: "the Hall of peppery wind," "the +Arbour of lotus fragrance," "the Islet of purple caltrop," "the Bank of +golden lotus," and the like. There were also tablets with four +characters such as: "the peach blossom and the vernal rain;" "the +autumnal wind prunes the Eloecocca," "the artemisia leaves and the night +snow," and other similar names which could not all be placed on record. +She furthermore directed that such tablets as were already put up, +should not be dismounted, and she forthwith took the lead and composed +an heptameter stanza, the burden of which was: + + Hills it enclasps, embraces streams, with skill it is laid out: + What task the grounds to raise! the works to start and bring about! + Of scenery in heaven and amongst men store has been made; + The name Broad Vista o'er the fragrant park should be engraved. + +When she had finished writing, she observed smilingly, as she addressed +herself to all the young ladies: "I have all along lacked the quality of +sharpness and never besides been good at verses; as you, sisters, and +all of you have ever been aware; but, on a night like this I've been +fain to do my best, with the object of escaping censure, and of not +reflecting injustice on this scenery and nothing more. But some other +day when I've got time, be it ever so little, I shall deem it my duty to +make up what remains by inditing a record of the Broad Vista Garden, as +well as a song on my visit to my parents and other such literary +productions in memory of the events of this day. You sisters and others +must, each of you, in like manner compose a stanza on the motto on each +tablet, expressing your sentiments, as you please, without being +restrained by any regard for my meagre ability. Knowing as I do besides +that Pao-yue is, indeed, able to write verses, I feel the more delighted! +But among his compositions, those I like the best are those in the two +places, 'the Hsiao Hsiang Lodge,' and 'the court of Heng and Wu;' and +next those of 'the Joyful red court,' and 'the cottage in the hills, +where the dolichos is bleached.' As for grand sites like these four, +there should be found some out-of-the-way expressions to insert in the +verses so that they should be felicitous. The antithetical lines +composed by you, (Pao-yue), on a former occasion are excellent, it is +true; but you should now further indite for each place, a pentameter +stanza, so that by allowing me to test you in my presence, you may not +show yourself ungrateful for the trouble I have taken in teaching you +from your youth up." + +Pao-yue had no help but to assent, and descending from the hall, he went +off all alone to give himself up to reflection. + +Of the three Ying Ch'un, T'an Ch'un, and Hsi Ch'un, T'an Ch'un must be +considered to have also been above the standard of her sisters, but she, +in her own estimation, imagined it, in fact, difficult to compete with +Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai and Lin Tai-yue. With no alternative however than that of +doing her best, she followed the example of all the rest with the sole +purpose of warding off criticism. And Li Wan too succeeded, after much +exertion, in putting together a stanza. + +The consort of the Chia family perused in due order the verses written +by the young ladies, the text of which is given below. + +The lines written by Ying Ch'un on the tablet of "Boundless spirits and +blissful heart" were: + + A park laid out with scenery surpassing fine and rare! + Submissive to thy will, on boundless bliss bashful I write! + Who could believe that yonder scenes in this world found a share! + Will not thy heart be charmed on thy visit by the sight? + +These are the verses by T'an Ch'un on the tablet of "All nature vies in +splendour": + + Of aspect lofty and sublime is raised a park of fame! + Honoured with thy bequest, my shallow lore fills me with shame. + No words could e'er amply exhaust the beauteous skill, + For lo! in very truth glory and splendour all things fill! + +Thus runs Hsi Ch'un's stanza on the tablet of the "Conception of +literary compositions": + + The hillocks and the streams crosswise beyond a thousand li extend! + The towers and terraces 'midst the five-coloured clouds lofty ascend! + In the resplendent radiance of both sun and moon the park it lies! + The skill these scenes to raise the skill e'en essays to conceive + outvies! + +The lines composed by Li Wan on the tablet "grace and elegance," +consisted of: + + The comely streams and hillocks clear, in double folds, embrace; + E'en Fairyland, forsooth, transcend they do in elegance and grace! + The "Fragrant Plant" the theme is of the ballad fan, green-made. + Like drooping plum-bloom flap the lapel red and the Hsiang gown. + From prosperous times must have been handed down those pearls and + jade. + What bliss! the fairy on the jasper terrace will come down! + When to our prayers she yields, this glorious park to contemplate, + No mortal must e'er be allowed these grounds to penetrate. + +The ode by Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai on the tablet of "Concentrated Splendour and +Accumulated auspiciousness" was: + + Raised on the west of the Imperial city, lo! the park stored with + fragrant smell, + Shrouded by Phoebe's radiant rays and clouds of good omen, in wondrous + glory lies! + The willows tall with joy exult that the parrots their nests have + shifted from the dell. + The bamboo groves, when laid, for the phoenix with dignity to come, + were meant to rise. + The very eve before the Empress' stroll, elegant texts were ready and + affixed. + If even she her parents comes to see, how filial piety supreme must + be! + When I behold her beauteous charms and talents supernatural, with awe + transfixed, + One word, to utter more how can I troth ever presume, when shame + overpowers me. + +The distich by Lin Tai-yue on the tablet of "Spiritual stream outside the +world," ran thus: + + Th' imperial visit doth enhance joy and delight. + This fairy land from mortal scenes what diff'rent sight! + The comely grace it borrows of both hill and stream; + And to the landscape it doth add a charm supreme. + The fumes of Chin Ku wine everything permeate; + The flowers the inmate of the Jade Hall fascinate. + The imperial favour to receive how blessed our lot! + For oft the palace carriage will pass through this spot. + +The Chia consort having concluded the perusal of the verses, and +extolled them for a time: "After all," she went on to say with a smile, +"those composed by my two cousins, Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai and Lin Tai-yue, +differ in excellence from those of all the rest; and neither I, stupid +as I am, nor my sisters can attain their standard." + +Lin Tao-yue had, in point of fact, made up her mind to display, on this +evening, her extraordinary abilities to their best advantage, and to put +down every one else, but contrary to her expectations the Chia consort +had expressed her desire that no more than a single stanza should be +written on each tablet, so that unable, after all, to disregard her +directions by writing anything in excess, she had no help but to compose +a pentameter stanza, in an offhand way, merely with the intent of +complying with her wishes. + +Pao-yue had by this time not completed his task. He had just finished two +stanzas on the Hsiao Hsiang Lodge and the Heng Wu garden, and was just +then engaged in composing a verse on the "Happy red Court." In his draft +figured a line: "The (leaves) of jade-like green in spring are yet +rolled up," which Pao-ch'ai stealthily observed as she turned her eyes +from side to side; and availing herself of the very first moment, when +none of the company could notice her, she gave him a nudge. "As her +highness," she remarked, "doesn't relish the four characters, +representing the red (flowers are) fragrant, and the green (banana +leaves) like jade, she changed them, just a while back, for 'the joyful +red and gladsome green;' and if you deliberately now again employ these +two words 'jade-like green,' won't it look as if you were bent upon +being at variance with her? Besides, very many are the old books, in +which the banana leaves form the theme, so you had better think of +another line and substitute it and have done with it!" + +When Pao-yue heard the suggestion made by Pao-ch'ai, he speedily replied, +as he wiped off the perspiration: "I can't at all just at present call +to mind any passage from the contents of some old book." + +"Just simply take," proposed Pao-ch'ai smilingly, "the character jade in +jade-like green and change it into the character wax, that's all." + +"Does 'green wax,'" Pao-yue inquired, "come out from anywhere?" + +Pao-ch'ai gently smacked her lips and nodded her head as she laughed. "I +fear," she said, "that if, on an occasion like to-night, you show no +more brains than this, by and by when you have to give any answers in +the golden hall, to the questions (of the examiner), you will, really, +forget (the very first four names) of Chao, Oh'ien, Sun and Li (out of +the hundred)! What, have you so much as forgotten the first line of the +poem by Han Yue, of the T'ang dynasty, on the Banana leaf: + + "Cold is the candle and without a flame, the green wax dry?" + +On hearing these words, Pao-yue's mind suddenly became enlightened. "What +a fool I am!" he added with a simper; "I couldn't for the moment even +remember the lines, ready-made though they were and staring at me in my +very eyes! Sister, you really can be styled my teacher, little though +you may have taught me, and I'll henceforward address you by no other +name than 'teacher,' and not call you 'sister' any more!" + +"Don't you yet hurry to go on," Pao-ch'ai again observed in a gentle +tone of voice sneeringly, "but keep on calling me elder sister and +younger sister? Who's your sister? that one over there in a yellow coat +is your sister!" + +But apprehending, as she bandied these jokes, lest she might be wasting +his time, she felt constrained to promptly move away; whereupon Pao-yue +continued the ode he had been working at, and brought it to a close, +writing in all three stanzas. + +Tai-yue had not had so far an opportunity of making a display of her +ability, and was feeling at heart in a very dejected mood; but when she +perceived that Pao-yue was having intense trouble in conceiving what he +had to write, and she found, upon walking up to the side of the table, +that he had only one stanza short, that on "the sign on the apricot tree +is visible," she consequently bade him copy out clean the first three +odes, while she herself composed a stanza, which she noted down on a +slip of paper, rumpled up into a ball, and threw just in front of +Pao-yue. + +As soon as Pao-yue opened it and glanced at it, he realised that it was a +hundred times better than his own three stanzas, and transcribing it +without loss of time, in a bold writing, he handed up his compositions. + +On perusal, the Chia Consort read what follows. By Pao-yue, on: "A +phoenix comes with dignified air:" + + The bamboos just now don that jadelike grace, + Which worthy makes them the pheasant to face; + Each culm so tender as if to droop fain, + Each one so verdant, in aspect so cool, + The curb protects, from the steps wards the pool. + The pervious screens the tripod smell restrain. + The shadow will be strewn, mind do not shake + And (Hsieh) from her now long fine dream (awake)! + +On "the pure fragrance of the Ligularia and Iris Florentina:" + + Hengs and Wus the still park permeate; + The los and pis their sweet perfume enhance; + And supple charms the third spring flowers ornate; + Softly is wafted one streak of fragrance! + A light mist doth becloud the tortuous way! + With moist the clothes bedews, that verdure cold! + The pond who ever sinuous could hold? + Dreams long and subtle, dream the household Hsieh. + +On "the happy red and joyful green:" + + Stillness pervades the deep pavilion on a lengthy day. + The green and red, together matched, transcendent grace display. + Unfurled do still remain in spring the green and waxlike leaves. + No sleep yet seeks the red-clad maid, though night's hours be + far-spent, + But o'er the rails lo, she reclines, dangling her ruddy sleeves; + Against the stone she leans shrouded by taintless scent, + And stands the quarter facing whence doth blow the eastern wind! + Her lord and master must look up to her with feelings kind. + +On "the sign on the apricot tree is visible:" + + The apricot tree sign to drink wayfarers doth invite; + A farm located on a hill, lo! yonder strikes the sight! + And water caltrops, golden lotus, geese, as well as flows, + And mulberry and elm trees which afford rest to swallows. + That wide extent of spring leeks with verdure covers the ground; + And o'er ten li the paddy blossom fragrance doth abound. + In days of plenty there's a lack of dearth and of distress, + And what need then is there to plough and weave with such briskness? + +When the Chia consort had done with the perusal, excessive joy filled +her heart. "He has indeed made progress!" she exclaimed, and went on to +point at the verses on "the sign on the apricot tree," as being the +crowning piece of the four stanzas. In due course, she with her own +hands changed the motto "a cottage in the hills where dolichos is +bleached" into "the paddy-scented village;" and bidding also T'an Ch'un +to take the several tens of stanzas written then, and to transcribe them +separately on ornamented silk paper, she commanded a eunuch to send them +to the outer quarters. And when Chia Cheng and the other men perused +them, one and all sung their incessant praise, while Chia Cheng, on his +part, sent in some complimentary message, with regard to her return home +on a visit. + +Yuan Ch'un went further and gave orders that luscious wines, a ham and +other such presents should be conferred upon Pao-yue, as well as upon +Chia Lan. This Chia Lan was as yet at this time a perfect youth without +any knowledge of things in general, so that all that he could do was to +follow the example of his mother, and imitate his uncle in performing +the conventional rites. + +At the very moment that Chia Se felt unable, along with a company of +actresses, to bear the ordeal of waiting on the ground floor of the +two-storied building, he caught sight of a eunuch come running at a +flying pace. "The composition of verses is over," he said, "so quick +give me the programme;" whereupon Chia Se hastened to present the +programme as well as a roll of the names of the twelve girls. And not a +long interval elapsed before four plays were chosen; No. 1 being the +Imperial Banquet; No. 2 Begging (the weaver goddess) for skill in +needlework; No. 3 The spiritual match; and No. 4 the Parting spirit. +Chia Se speedily lent a hand in the getting up, and the preparations for +the performance, and each of the girls sang with a voice sufficient to +split the stones and danced in the manner of heavenly spirits; and +though their exterior was that of the characters in which they were +dressed up for the play, their acting nevertheless represented, in a +perfect manner, both sorrow as well as joy. As soon as the performance +was brought to a close, a eunuch walked in holding a golden salver +containing cakes, sweets, and the like, and inquired who was Ling Kuan; +and Chia Se readily concluding that these articles were presents +bestowed upon Ling Kuan, made haste to take them over, as he bade Ling +Kuan prostrate herself. + +"The honourable consort," the eunuch further added, "directs that Ling +Kuan, who is the best actress of the lot, should sing two more songs; +any two will do, she does not mind what they are." + +Chia Se at once expressed his obedience, and felt constrained to urge +Ling Kuan to sing the two ballads entitled: "The walk through the +garden" and "Frightened out of a dream." But Ling Kuan asserted that +these two ballads had not originally been intended for her own role; and +being firm in her refusal to accede and insisting upon rendering the two +songs "The Mutual Promise" and "The Mutual Abuse," Chia Se found it hard +to bring her round, and had no help but to let her have her own way. The +Chia consort was so extremely enchanted with her that she gave +directions that she should not be treated harshly, and that this girl +should receive a careful training, while besides the fixed number of +presents, she gave her two rolls of palace silk, two purses, gold and +silver ingots, and presents in the way of eatables. + +Subsequently, when the banquet had been cleared, and she once more +prosecuted her visit through those places to which she had not been, she +quite accidentally espied the Buddhist Temple encircled by hills, and +promptly rinsing her hands, she walked in and burnt incense and +worshipped Buddha. She also composed the device for a tablet, "a humane +boat on the (world's) bitter sea," and went likewise so far as to show +special acts of additional grace to a company of ascetic nuns and Taoist +priestesses. + +A eunuch came in a short while and reverently fell on his knees. "The +presents are all in readiness," he reported, "and may it please you to +inspect them and to distribute them, in compliance with custom;" and +presented to her a list, which the Chia consort perused from the very +top throughout without raising any objection, and readily commanding +that action should be taken according to the list, a eunuch descended +and issued the gifts one after another. The presents for dowager lady +Chia consisted, it may be added, of two sceptres, one of gold, the other +of jade, with "may your wishes be fulfilled" inscribed on them; a staff +made of lign-aloes; a string of chaplet beads of Chia-nan fragrant wood; +four rolls of imperial satins with words "Affluence and honours" and +Perennial Spring (woven in them); four rolls of imperial silk with +Perennial Happiness and Longevity; two shoes of purple gold bullion, +representing a pen, an ingot and "as you like;" and ten silver ingots +with the device "Felicitous Blessings." While the two shares for madame +Hsing and madame Wang were only short of hers by the sceptres and +staffs, four things in all. Chia She, Chia Cheng and the others had each +apportioned to him a work newly written by the Emperor, two boxes of +superior ink, and gold and silver cups, two pairs of each; their other +gifts being identical with those above. Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yue, all the +sisters and the rest were assigned each a copy of a new book, a fine +slab and two pair of gold and silver ornaments of a novel kind and +original shape; Pao-yue likewise receiving the same presents. Chia Lan's +gifts consisted of two necklets, one of gold, the other of silver, and +of two pair of gold ingots. Mrs. Yu, widow Li Wan, lady Feng and the +others had each of them, four ingots of gold and silver; and, in the way +of keepsakes, four pieces of silk. There were, in addition, presents +consisting of twenty-four pieces of silk and a thousand strings of good +cash to be allotted to the nurses, and waiting-maids, in the apartments +of dowager lady Chia, madame Wang and of the respective sisters; while +Chia Chen, Chia Lien, Chia Huan, Chia Jung and the rest had, every one, +for presents, a piece of silk, and a pair of gold and silver ingots. + +As regards the other gifts, there were a hundred rolls of various +coloured silks, a thousand ounces of pure silver, and several bottles of +imperial wine, intended to be bestowed upon all the men-servants of the +mansions, on the East and the West, as well as upon those who had been +in the garden overseeing works, arranging the decorations, and in +waiting to answer calls, and upon those who looked after the theatres +and managed the lanterns. There being, besides, five hundred strings of +pure cash for the cooks, waiters, jugglers and hundreds of actors and +every kind of domestic. + +The whole party had finished giving expression to their thanks for her +bounty, when the managers and eunuchs respectfully announced: "It is +already a quarter to three, and may it please your Majesty to turn back +your imperial chariot;" whereupon, much against her will, the Chia +consort's eyes brimmed over, and she once more gave vent to tears. +Forcing herself however again to put on a smile, she clasped old lady +Chia's and madame Wang's hands, and could not bring herself to let them +go; while she repeatedly impressed upon their minds: that there was no +need to give way to any solicitude, and that they should take good care +of their healths; that the grace of the present emperor was so vast, +that once a month he would grant permission for them to enter the palace +and pay her a visit. "It is easy enough for us to see each other," (she +said,) "and why should we indulge in any excess of grief? But when his +majesty in his heavenly generosity allows me another time to return +home, you shouldn't go in for such pomp and extravagance." + +Dowager lady Chia and the other inmates had already cried to such an +extent that sobs choked their throats and they could with difficulty +give utterance to speech. But though the Chia consort could not +reconcile herself to the separation, the usages in vogue in the imperial +household could not be disregarded or infringed, so that she had no +alternative but to stifle the anguish of her heart, to mount her +chariot, and take her departure. + +The whole family experienced meanwhile a hard task before they succeeded +in consoling the old lady and madame Wang and in supporting them away +out of the garden. But as what follows is not ascertained, the next +chapter will disclose it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + In the vehemence of her feelings, Hua (Hsi Jen) on a quiet evening + admonishes Pao-yue. + While (the spell) of affection continues unbroken, Pao-yue, on a still + day, perceives the fragrance emitted from Tai-yue's person. + + +The Chia consort, we must now go on to explain, returned to the Palace, +and the next day, on her appearance in the presence of His Majesty, she +thanked him for his bounty and gave him furthermore an account of her +experiences on her visit home. His Majesty's dragon countenance was much +elated, and he also issued from the privy store coloured satins, gold +and silver and such like articles to be presented to Chia Cheng and the +other officials in the various households of her relatives. But +dispensing with minute details about them, we will now revert to the two +mansions of Jung and Ning. + +With the extreme strain on mind and body for successive days, the +strength of one and all was, in point of fact, worn out and their +respective energies exhausted. And it was besides after they had been +putting by the various decorations and articles of use for two or three +days, that they, at length, got through the work. + +Lady Feng was the one who had most to do, and whose responsibilities +were greatest. The others could possibly steal a few leisure moments and +retire to rest, while she was the sole person who could not slip away. +In the second place, naturally anxious as she was to excel and both to +fall in people's estimation, she put up with the strain just as if she +were like one of those who had nothing to attend to. But the one who had +the least to do and had the most leisure was Pao-yue. + +As luck would have it on this day, at an early hour, Hsi Jen's mother +came again in person and told dowager lady Chia that she would take Hsi +Jen home to drink a cup of tea brewed in the new year and that she would +return in the evening. For this reason Pao-yue was only in the company of +all the waiting-maids, throwing dice, playing at chess and amusing +himself. But while he was in the room playing with them with a total +absence of zest, he unawares perceived a few waiting-maids arrive, who +informed him that their senior master Mr. Chen, of the Eastern Mansion, +had come to invite him to go and see a theatrical performance, and the +fireworks, which were to be let off. + +Upon hearing these words, Pao-yue speedily asked them to change his +clothes; but just as he was ready to start, presents of cream, steamed +with sugar, arrived again when least expected from the Chia Consort, and +Pao-yue recollecting with what relish Hsi Jen had partaken of this dish +on the last occasion forthwith bid them keep it for her; while he went +himself and told dowager lady Chia that he was going over to see the +play. + +The plays sung over at Chia Chen's consisted, who would have thought it, +of "Ting L'ang recognises his father," and "Huang Po-ying deploys the +spirits for battle," and in addition to these, "Sung Hsing-che causes +great commotion in the heavenly palace;" "Ghiang T'ai-kung kills the +general and deifies him," and other such like. Soon appeared the spirits +and devils in a confused crowd on the stage, and suddenly also became +visible the whole band of sprites and goblins, among which were some +waving streamers, as they went past in a procession, invoking Buddha and +burning incense. The sound of the gongs and drums and of shouts and +cries were audible at a distance beyond the lane; and in the whole +street, one and all extolled the performance as exceptionally grand, and +that the like could never have been had in the house of any other +family. + +Pao-yue, noticing that the commotion and bustle had reached a stage so +unbearable to his taste, speedily betook himself, after merely sitting +for a little while, to other places in search of relaxation and fun. +First of all, he entered the inner rooms, and after spending some time +in chatting and laughing with Mrs. Yu, the waiting-maids, and secondary +wives, he eventually took his departure out of the second gate; and as +Mrs. Yu and her companions were still under the impression that he was +going out again to see the play, they let him speed on his way, without +so much as keeping an eye over him. + +Chia Chen, Chia Lien, Hsueh P'an and the others were bent upon guessing +enigmas, enforcing the penalties and enjoying themselves in a hundred +and one ways, so that even allowing that they had for a moment noticed +that he was not occupying his seat, they must merely have imagined that +he had gone inside and not, in fact, worried their minds about him. And +as for the pages, who had come along with Pao-yue, those who were a +little advanced in years, knowing very well that Pao-yue would, on an +occasion like the present, be sure not to be going before dusk, +stealthily therefore took advantage of his absence, those, who could, to +gamble for money, and others to go to the houses of relatives and +friends to drink of the new year tea, so that what with gambling and +drinking the whole bevy surreptitiously dispersed, waiting for dusk +before they came back; while those, who were younger, had all crept into +the green rooms to watch the excitement; with the result that Pao-yue +perceiving not one of them about bethought himself of a small reading +room, which existed in previous days on this side, in which was +suspended a picture of a beauty so artistically executed as to look +life-like. "On such a bustling day as this," he reasoned, "it's pretty +certain, I fancy, that there will be no one in there; and that beautiful +person must surely too feel lonely, so that it's only right that I +should go and console her a bit." With these thoughts, he hastily betook +himself towards the side-house yonder, and as soon as he came up to the +window, he heard the sound of groans in the room. Pao-yue was really +quite startled. "What!" (he thought), "can that beautiful girl, +possibly, have come to life!" and screwing up his courage, he licked a +hole in the paper of the window and peeped in. It was not she, however, +who had come to life, but Ming Yen holding down a girl and likewise +indulging in what the Monitory Dream Fairy had taught him. + +"Dreadful!" exclaimed Pao-yue, aloud, unable to repress himself, and, +stamping one of his feet, he walked into the door to the terror of both +of them, who parting company, shivered with fear, like clothes that are +being shaken. Ming Yen perceiving that it was Pao-yue promptly fell on +his knees and piteously implored for pardon. + +"What! in broad daylight! what do you mean by it? Were your master Mr. +Chen to hear of it, would you die or live?" asked Pao-yue, as he +simultaneously cast a glance at the servant-girl, who although not a +beauty was anyhow so spick and span, and possessed besides a few charms +sufficient to touch the heart. From shame, her face was red and her ears +purple, while she lowered her head and uttered not a syllable. + +Pao-yue stamped his foot. "What!" he shouted, "don't you yet bundle +yourself away!" + +This simple remark suggested the idea to the girl's mind who ran off, as +if she had wings to fly with; but as Pao-yue went also so far as to go in +pursuit of her, calling out: "Don't be afraid, I'm not one to tell +anyone," Ming Yen was so exasperated that he cried, as he went after +them, "My worthy ancestor, this is distinctly telling people about it." + +"How old is that servant girl?" Pao-yue having asked; "She's, I expect, +no more than sixteen or seventeen," Ming Yen rejoined. + +"Well, if you haven't gone so far as to even ascertain her age," Pao-yue +observed, "you're sure to know still less about other things; and it +makes it plain enough that her acquaintance with you is all vain and +futile! What a pity! what a pity!" + +He then went on to enquire what her name was; and "Were I," continued +Ming Yen smiling, "to tell you about her name it would involve a long +yarn; it's indeed a novel and strange story! She relates that while her +mother was nursing her, she dreamt a dream and obtained in this dream +possession of a piece of brocaded silk, on which were designs, in +variegated colours, representing opulence and honour, and a continuous +line of the character Wan; and that this reason accounts for the name of +Wan Erh, which was given her." + +"This is really strange!" Pao-yue exclaimed with a grin, after lending an +ear to what he had to say; "and she is bound, I think, by and by to have +a good deal of good fortune!" + +These words uttered, he plunged in deep thought for a while, and Ming +Yen having felt constrained to inquire: "Why aren't you, Mr. Secundus, +watching a theatrical performance of this excellent kind?" "I had been +looking on for ever so long," Pao-yue replied, "until I got quite weary; +and had just come out for a stroll, when I happened to meet you two. But +what's to be done now?" + +Ming Yen gave a faint smile. "As there's no one here to know anything +about it," he added, "I'll stealthily take you, Mr. Secundus, for a walk +outside the city walls; and we'll come back shortly, before they've got +wind of it." + +"That won't do," Pao-yue demurred, "we must be careful, or else some +beggar might kidnap us away; besides, were they to come to hear of it, +there'll be again a dreadful row; and isn't it better that we should go +to some nearer place, from which we could, after all, return at once?" + +"As for some nearer place," Ming Yen observed; "to whose house can we +go? It's really no easy matter!" + +"My idea is," Pao-yue suggested with a smirk, "that we should simply go, +and find sister Hua, and see what she's up to at home." + +"Yes! Yes!" Ming Yen replied laughingly; "the fact is I had forgotten +all about her home; but should it reach their ears," he continued, +"they'll say that it was I who led you, Mr. Secundus, astray, and +they'll beat me!" + +"I'm here for you!" Pao-yue having assured him; Ming Yen at these words +led the horses round, and the two of them speedily made their exit by +the back gate. Luckily Hsi Jen's house was not far off. It was no +further than half a li's distance, so that in a twinkle they had already +reached the front of the door, and Ming Yen was the first to walk in and +to call for Hsi Jen's eldest brother Hua Tzu-fang. + +Hsi Jen's mother had, on this occasion, united in her home Hsi Jen, +several of her sister's daughters, as well as a few of her nieces, and +they were engaged in partaking of fruits and tea, when they heard some +one outside call out, "Brother Hua." Hua Tzu-fang lost no time in +rushing out; and upon looking and finding that it was the two of them, +the master and his servant, he was so taken by surprise that his fears +could not be set at rest. Promptly, he clasped Pao-yue in his arms and +dismounted him, and coming into the court, he shouted out at the top of +his voice: "Mr. Pao has come." The other persons heard the announcement +of his arrival, with equanimity, but when it reached Hsi Jen's ears, she +truly felt at such a loss to fathom the object of his visit that issuing +hastily out of the room, she came to meet Pao-yue, and as she laid hold +of him: "Why did you come?" she asked. + +"I felt awfully dull," Pao-yue rejoined with a smile, "and came to see +what you were up to." + +Hsi Jen at these words banished, at last, all anxiety from her mind. +"You're again up to your larks," she observed, "but what's the aim of +your visit? Who else has come along with him?" she at the same time went +on to question Ming Yen. + +"All the others know nothing about it!" explained Ming Yen exultingly; +"only we two do, that's all." + +When Hsi Jen heard this remark, she gave way afresh to solicitous fears: +"This is dreadful!" she added; "for were you to come across any one from +the house, or to meet master; or were, in the streets, people to press +against you, or horses to collide with you, as to make (his horse) shy, +and he were to fall, would that too be a joke? The gall of both of you +is larger than a peck measure; but it's all you, Ming Yen, who has +incited him, and when I go back, I'll surely tell the nurses to beat +you." + +Ming Yen pouted his mouth. "Mr. Secundus," he pleaded, "abused me and +beat me, as he bade me bring him here, and now he shoves the blame on my +shoulders! 'Don't let us go,' I suggested; 'but if you do insist, well +then let us go and have done.'" + +Hua Tzu-fang promptly interceded. "Let things alone," he said; "now that +they're already here, there's no need whatever of much ado. The only +thing is that our mean house with its thatched roof is both so crammed +and so filthy that how could you, sir, sit in it!" + +Hsi Jen's mother also came out at an early period to receive him, and +Hsi Jen pulled Pao-yue in. Once inside the room, Pao-yue perceived three +or five girls, who, as soon as they caught sight of him approaching, all +lowered their heads, and felt so bashful that their faces were suffused +with blushes. But as both Hua Tzu-fang and his mother were afraid that +Pao-yue would catch cold, they pressed him to take a seat on the +stove-bed, and hastened to serve a fresh supply of refreshments, and to +at once bring him a cup of good tea. + +"You needn't be flurrying all for nothing," Hsi Jen smilingly +interposed; "I, naturally, should know; and there's no use of even +laying out any fruits, as I daren't recklessly give him anything to +eat." + +Saying this, she simultaneously took her own cushion and laid it on a +stool, and after Pao-yue took a seat on it, she placed the footstove she +had been using, under his feet; and producing, from a satchet, two +peach-blossom-scented small cakes, she opened her own hand-stove and +threw them into the fire; which done, she covered it well again and +placed it in Pao-yue's lap. And eventually, she filled her own tea-cup +with tea and presented it to Pao-yue, while, during this time, her mother +and sister had been fussing about, laying out in fine array a tableful +of every kind of eatables. + +Hsi Jen noticed that there were absolutely no things that he could eat, +but she felt urged to say with a smile: "Since you've come, it isn't +right that you should go empty away; and you must, whether the things be +good or bad, taste a little, so that it may look like a visit to my +house!" + +As she said this, she forthwith took several seeds of the fir-cone, and +cracking off the thin skin, she placed them in a handkerchief and +presented them to Pao-yue. But Pao-yue, espying that Hsi Jen's two eyes +were slightly red, and that the powder was shiny and moist, quietly +therefore inquired of Hsi Jen, "Why do you cry for no rhyme or reason?" + +"Why should I cry?" Hsi Jen laughed; "something just got into my eyes +and I rubbed them." By these means she readily managed to evade +detection; but seeing that Pao-yue wore a deep red archery-sleeved +pelisse, ornamented with gold dragons, and lined with fur from foxes' +ribs and a grey sable fur surtout with a fringe round the border. "What! +have you," she asked, "put on again your new clothes for? specially to +come here? and didn't they inquire of you where you were going?" + +"I had changed," Pao-yue explained with a grin, "as Mr. Chen had invited +me to go over and look at the play." + +"Well, sit a while and then go back;" Hsi Jen continued as she nodded +her head; "for this isn't the place for you to come to!" + +"You'd better be going home now," Pao-yue suggested smirkingly; "where +I've again kept something good for you." + +"Gently," smiled Hsi Jen, "for were you to let them hear, what figure +would we cut?" And with these, words, she put out her hand and +unclasping from Pao-yue's neck the jade of Spiritual Perception, she +faced her cousins and remarked exultingly. "Here! see for yourselves; +look at this and learn! When I repeatedly talked about it, you all +thought it extraordinary, and were anxious to have a glance at it; +to-day, you may gaze on it with all your might, for whatever precious +thing you may by and by come to see will really never excel such an +object as this!" + +When she had finished speaking, she handed it over to them, and after +they had passed it round for inspection, she again fastened it properly +on Pao-yue's neck, and also bade her brother go and hire a small +carriage, or engage a small chair, and escort Pao-yue back home. + +"If I see him back," Hua Tzu-fang remarked, "there would be no harm, +were he even to ride his horse!" + +"It isn't because of harm," Hsi Jen replied; "but because he may come +across some one from the house." + +Hua Tzu-fang promptly went and bespoke a small chair; and when it came +to the door, the whole party could not very well detain him, and they of +course had to see Pao-yue out of the house; while Hsi Jen, on the other +hand, snatched a few fruits and gave them to Ming Yen; and as she at the +same time pressed in his hand several cash to buy crackers with to let +off, she enjoined him not to tell any one as he himself would likewise +incur blame. + +As she uttered these words, she straightway escorted Pao-yue as far as +outside the door, from whence having seen him mount into the sedan +chair, she dropped the curtain; whereupon Ming Yen and her brother, the +two of them, led the horses and followed behind in his wake. Upon +reaching the street where the Ning mansion was situated, Ming Yen told +the chair to halt, and said to Hua Tzu-fang, "It's advisable that I +should again go, with Mr. Secundus, into the Eastern mansion, to show +ourselves before we can safely betake ourselves home; for if we don't, +people will suspect!" + +Hua Tzu-fang, upon hearing that there was good reason in what he said, +promptly clasped Pao-yue out of the chair and put him on the horse, +whereupon after Pao-yue smilingly remarked: "Excuse me for the trouble +I've surely put you to," they forthwith entered again by the back gate; +but putting aside all details, we will now confine ourselves to Pao-yue. + +After he had walked out of the door, the several waiting-maids in his +apartments played and laughed with greater zest and with less restraint. +Some there were who played at chess, others who threw the dice or had a +game of cards; and they covered the whole floor with the shells of +melon-seeds they were cracking, when dame Li, his nurse, happened to +come in, propping herself on a staff, to pay her respects and to see +Pao-yue, and perceiving that Pao-yue was not at home and that the +servant-girls were only bent upon romping, she felt intensely disgusted. +"Since I've left this place," she therefore exclaimed with a sigh, "and +don't often come here, you've become more and more unmannerly; while the +other nurse does still less than ever venture to expostulate with you; +Pao-yue is like a candlestick eighty feet high, shedding light on others, +and throwing none upon himself! All he knows is to look down upon people +as being filthy; and yet this is his room and he allows you to put it +topsy-turvey, and to become more and more unmindful of decorum!" + +These servant-girls were well aware that Pao-yue was not particular in +these respects, and that in the next place nurse Li, having pleaded old +age, resigned her place and gone home, had nowadays no control over +them, so that they simply gave their minds to romping and joking, and +paid no heed whatever to her. Nurse Li however still kept on asking +about Pao-yue, "How much rice he now ate at one meal? and at what time he +went to sleep?" to which questions, the servant-girls replied quite at +random; some there being too who observed: "What a dreadful despicable +old thing she is!" + +"In this covered bowl," she continued to inquire, "is cream, and why not +give it to me to eat?" and having concluded these words, she took it up +and there and then began eating it. + +"Be quick, and leave it alone!" a servant-girl expostulated, "that, he +said, was kept in order to be given to Hsi Jen; and on his return, when +he again gets into a huff, you, old lady, must, on your own motion, +confess to having eaten it, and not involve us in any way as to have to +bear his resentment." + +Nurse Li, at these words, felt both angry and ashamed. "I can't +believe," she forthwith remarked, "that he has become so bad at heart! +Not to speak of the milk I've had, I have, in fact every right to even +something more expensive than this; for is it likely that he holds Hsi +Jen dearer than myself? It can't forsooth be that he doesn't bear in +mind how that I've brought him up to be a big man, and how that he has +eaten my blood transformed into milk and grown up to this age! and will +be because I'm now having a bowl of milk of his be angry on that score! +I shall, yes, eat it, and we'll see what he'll do! I don't know what you +people think of Hsi Jen, but she was a lowbred girl, whom I've with my +own hands raised up! and what fine object indeed was she!" + +As she spoke, she flew into a temper, and taking the cream she drank the +whole of it. + +"They don't know how to speak properly!" another servant-girl interposed +sarcastically, "and it's no wonder that you, old lady, should get angry! +Pao-yue still sends you, venerable dame, presents as a proof of his +gratitude, and is it possible that he will feel displeased for such a +thing like this?" + +"You girls shouldn't also pretend to be artful flatterers to cajole me!" +nurse Li added; "do you imagine that I'm not aware of the dismissal, the +other day, of Hsi Hsueeh, on account of a cup of tea? and as it's clear +enough that I've incurred blame, I'll come by and by and receive it!" + +Having said this, she went off in a dudgeon, but not a long interval +elapsed before Pao-yue returned, and gave orders to go and fetch Hsi Jen; +and perceiving Ching Ling reclining on the bed perfectly still: "I +presume she's ill," Pao-yue felt constrained to inquire, "or if she isn't +ill, she must have lost at cards." + +"Not so!" observed Chiu Wen; "she had been a winner, but dame Li came in +quite casually and muddled her so that she lost; and angry at this she +rushed off to sleep." + +"Don't place yourselves," Pao-yue smiled, "on the same footing as nurse +Li, and if you were to let her alone, everything will be all right." + +These words were still on his lips when Hsi Jen arrived. After the +mutual salutations, Hsi Jen went on to ask of Pao-yue: "Where did you +have your repast? and what time did you come back?" and to present +likewise, on behalf of her mother and sister, her compliments to all the +girls, who were her companions. In a short while, she changed her +costume and divested herself of her fineries, and Pao-yue bade them fetch +the cream. + +"Nurse Li has eaten it," the servant-girls rejoined, and as Pao-yue was +on the point of making some remark Hsi Jen hastened to interfere, +laughing the while; "Is it really this that you had kept for me? many +thanks for the trouble; the other day, when I had some, I found it very +toothsome, but after I had partaken of it, I got a pain in the stomach, +and was so much upset, that it was only after I had brought it all up +that I felt all right. So it's as well that she has had it, for, had it +been kept here, it would have been wasted all for no use! What I fancy +are dry chestnuts; and while you clean a few for me, I'll go and lay the +bed!" + +Pao-yue upon hearing these words credited them as true, so that he +discarded all thought of the cream and fetched the chestnuts, which he, +with his own hands, selected and pealed. Perceiving at the same time +that none of the party were present in the room, he put on a smile and +inquired of Hsi Jen: "Who were those persons dressed in red to day?" + +"They're my two cousins on my mother's side," Hsi Jen explained, and +hearing this, Pao-yue sang their praise as he heaved a couple of sighs. + +"What are you sighing for?" Hsi Jen remarked. "I know the secret reasons +of your heart; it's I fancy because she isn't fit to wear red!" + +"It isn't that," Pao-yue protested smilingly, "it isn't that; if such a +person as that isn't good enough to be dressed in red, who would +forsooth presume to wear it? It's because I find her so really lovely! +and if we could, after all, manage to get her into our family, how nice +it would be then!" + +Hsi Jen gave a sardonic smile. "That it's my own fate to be a slave +doesn't matter, but is it likely that the destiny of even my very +relatives could be to become one and all of them bond servants? But you +should certainly set your choice upon some really beautiful girl, for +she would in that case be good enough to enter your house." + +"Here you are again with your touchiness!" Pao-yue eagerly exclaimed +smiling, "if I said that she should come to our house, does it +necessarily imply that she should be a servant? and wouldn't it do were +I to mention that she should come as a relative!" + +"That too couldn't exalt her to be a fit match for you!" rejoined Hsi +Jen; but Pao-yue being loth to continue the conversation, simply busied +himself with cleaning the chestnuts. + +"How is it you utter not a word?" Hsi Jen laughed; "I expect it's +because I just offended you by my inconsiderate talk! But if by and by +you have your purpose fixed on it, just spend a few ounces of silver to +purchase them with, and bring them in and have done!" + +"How would you have one make any reply?" Pao-yue smilingly rejoined; "all +I did was to extol her charms; for she's really fit to have been born in +a deep hall and spacious court as this; and it isn't for such foul +things as myself and others to contrariwise spend our days in this +place!" + +"Though deprived of this good fortune," Hsi Jen explained, "she's +nevertheless also petted and indulged and the jewel of my maternal uncle +and my aunt! She's now seventeen years of age, and everything in the way +of trousseau has been got ready, and she's to get married next year." + +Upon hearing the two words "get married," he could not repress himself +from again ejaculating: "Hai hai!" but while he was in an unhappy frame +of mind, he once more heard Hsi Jen remark as she heaved a sigh: "Ever +since I've come here, we cousins haven't all these years been able to +get to live together, and now that I'm about to return home, they, on +the other hand, will all be gone!" + +Pao-yue, realising that there lurked in this remark some meaning or +other, was suddenly so taken aback that dropping the chestnuts, he +inquired: "How is it that you now want to go back?" + +"I was present to-day," Hsi Jen explained, "when mother and brother held +consultation together, and they bade me be patient for another year, and +that next year they'll come up and redeem me out of service!" + +Pao-yue, at these words, felt the more distressed. "Why do they want to +redeem you?" he consequently asked. + +"This is a strange question!" Hsi Jen retorted, "for I can't really be +treated as if I were the issue born in this homestead of yours! All the +members of my family are elsewhere, and there's only myself in this +place, so that how could I end my days here?" + +"If I don't let you go, it will verily be difficult for you to get +away!" Pao-yue replied. + +"There has never been such a principle of action!" urged Hsi Jen; "even +in the imperial palace itself, there's a fixed rule, by which possibly +every certain number of years a selection (of those who have to go takes +place), and every certain number of years a new batch enters; and +there's no such practice as that of keeping people for ever; not to +speak of your own home." + +Pao-yue realised, after reflection, that she, in point of fact, was +right, and he went on to observe: "Should the old lady not give you your +release, it will be impossible for you to get off." + +"Why shouldn't she release me?" Hsi Jen questioned. "Am I really so very +extraordinary a person as to have perchance made such an impression upon +her venerable ladyship and my lady that they will be positive in not +letting me go? They may, in all likelihood, give my family some more +ounces of silver to keep me here; that possibly may come about. But, in +truth, I'm also a person of the most ordinary run, and there are many +more superior to me, yea very many! Ever since my youth up, I've been in +her old ladyship's service; first by waiting upon Miss Shih for several +years, and recently by being in attendance upon you for another term of +years; and now that our people will come to redeem me, I should, as a +matter of right, be told to go. My idea is that even the very redemption +money won't be accepted, and that they will display such grace as to let +me go at once. And, as for being told that I can't be allowed to go as +I'm so diligent in my service to you, that's a thing that can on no +account come about! My faithful attendance is an obligation of my +duties, and is no exceptional service! and when I'm gone you'll again +have some other faithful attendant, and it isn't likely that when I'm no +more here, you'll find it impracticable to obtain one!" + +After Pao-yue had listened to these various arguments, which proved the +reasonableness of her going and the unreasonableness of any detention, +he felt his heart more than ever a prey to distress. "In spite of all +you say," he therefore continued, "the sole desire of my heart is to +detain you; and I have no doubt but that the old lady will speak to your +mother about it; and if she were to give your mother ample money, +she'll, of course, not feel as if she could very well with any decency +take you home!" + +"My mother won't naturally have the audacity to be headstrong!" Hsi Jen +ventured, "not to speak besides of the nice things, which may be told +her and the lots of money she may, in addition, be given; but were she +even not to be paid any compliments, and not so much as a single cash +given her, she won't, if you set your mind upon keeping me here, presume +not to comply with your wishes, were it also against my inclination. One +thing however; our family would never rely upon prestige, and trust upon +honorability to do anything so domineering as this! for this isn't like +anything else, which, because you take a fancy to it, a hundred per cent +profit can be added, and it obtained for you! This action can be well +taken if the seller doesn't suffer loss! But in the present instance, +were they to keep me back for no rhyme or reason, it would also be of no +benefit to yourself; on the contrary, they would be instrumental in +keeping us blood relatives far apart; a thing the like of which, I feel +positive that dowager lady Chia and my lady will never do!" + +After lending an ear to this argument, Pao-yue cogitated within himself +for a while. "From what you say," he then observed, "when you say you'll +go, it means that you'll go for certain!" + +"Yes, that I'll go for certain," Hsi Jen rejoined. + +"Who would have anticipated," Pao-yue, after these words, mused in his +own heart, "that a person like her would have shown such little sense of +gratitude, and such a lack of respect! Had I," he then remarked aloud +with a sigh, "been aware, at an early date, that your whole wish would +have been to go, I wouldn't, in that case, have brought you over! But +when you're away, I shall remain alone, a solitary spirit!" + +As he spoke, he lost control over his temper, and, getting into bed, he +went to sleep. + +The fact is that when Hsi Jen had been at home, and she heard her mother +and brother express their intention of redeeming her back, she there and +then observed that were she even at the point of death, she would not +return home. "When in past days," she had argued, "you had no rice to +eat, there remained myself, who was still worth several taels; and +hadn't I urged you to sell me, wouldn't I have seen both father and +mother die of starvation under my very eyes? and you've now had the good +fortune of selling me into this place, where I'm fed and clothed just +like a mistress, and where I'm not beaten by day, nor abused by night! +Besides, though now father be no more, you two have anyhow by putting +things straight again, so adjusted the family estate that it has resumed +its primitive condition. And were you, in fact, still in straitened +circumstances, and you could by redeeming me back, make again some more +money, that would be well and good; but the truth is that there's no +such need, and what would be the use for you to redeem me at such a time +as this? You should temporarily treat me as dead and gone, and shouldn't +again recall any idea of redeeming me!" + +Having in consequence indulged in a loud fit of crying, her mother and +brother resolved, when they perceived her in this determined frame of +mind, that for a fact there was no need for her to come out of service. +What is more they had sold her under contract until death, in the +distinct reliance that the Chia family, charitable and generous a family +as it was, would, possibly, after no more than a few entreaties, make +them a present of her person as well as the purchase money. In the +second place, never had they in the Chia mansion ill-used any of those +below; there being always plenty of grace and little of imperiousness. +Besides, the servant-girls, who acted as personal attendants in the +apartments of the old as well as of the young, were treated so far +unlike the whole body of domestics in the household that the daughters +even of an ordinary and penniless parentage could not have been so +looked up to. And these considerations induced both the mother as well +as her son to at once dispel the intention and not to redeem her, and +when Pao-yue had subsequently paid them an unexpected visit, and the two +of them (Pao-yue and Hsi Jen) were seen to be also on such terms, the +mother and her son obtained a clearer insight into their relations, and +still one more burden (which had pressed on their mind) fell to the +ground, and as besides this was a contingency, which they had never +reckoned upon, they both composed their hearts, and did not again +entertain any idea of ransoming her. + +It must be noticed moreover that Hsi Jen had ever since her youth not +been blind to the fact that Pao-yue had an extraordinary temperament, +that he was self-willed and perverse, far even in excess of all young +lads, and that he had, in addition, a good many peculiarities and many +unspeakable defects. And as of late he had placed such reliance in the +fond love of his grandmother that his father and mother even could not +exercise any extreme control over him, he had become so much the more +remiss, dissolute, selfish and unconcerned, not taking the least +pleasure in what was proper, that she felt convinced, whenever she +entertained the idea of tendering him advice, that he would not listen +to her. On this day, by a strange coincidence, came about the discussion +respecting her ransom, and she designedly made use, in the first +instance, of deception with a view to ascertain his feelings, to +suppress his temper, and to be able subsequently to extend to him some +words of admonition; and when she perceived that Pao-yue had now silently +gone to sleep, she knew that his feelings could not brook the idea of +her return and that his temper had already subsided. She had never had, +as far as she was concerned, any desire of eating chestnuts, but as she +feared lest, on account of the cream, some trouble might arise, which +might again lead to the same results as when Hsi Hsueeh drank the tea, +she consequently made use of the pretence that she fancied chestnuts, in +order to put off Pao-yue from alluding (to the cream) and to bring the +matter speedily to an end. But telling forthwith the young waiting-maids +to take the chestnuts away and eat them, she herself came and pushed +Pao-yue; but at the sight of Pao-yue with the traces of tears on his face, +she at once put on a smiling expression and said: "What's there in this +to wound your heart? If you positively do wish to keep me, I shall, of +course, not go away!" + +Pao-yue noticed that these words contained some hidden purpose, and +readily observed: "Do go on and tell me what else I can do to succeed in +keeping you here, for of my own self I find it indeed difficult to say +how!" + +"Of our friendliness all along," Hsi Jen smilingly rejoined, "there's +naturally no need to speak; but, if you have this day made up your mind +to retain me here, it isn't through this friendship that you'll succeed +in doing so. But I'll go on and mention three distinct conditions, and, +if you really do accede to my wishes, you'll then have shown an earnest +desire to keep me here, and I won't go, were even a sword to be laid on +my neck!" + +"Do tell me what these conditions are," Pao-yue pressed her with +alacrity, as he smiled, "and I'll assent to one and all. My dear sister, +my own dear sister, not to speak of two or three, but even two or three +hundred of them I'm quite ready to accept. All I entreat you is that you +and all of you should combine to watch over me and take care of me, +until some day when I shall be transformed into flying ashes; but flying +ashes are, after all, not opportune, as they have form and substance and +they likewise possess sense, but until I've been metamorphosed into a +streak of subtle smoke. And when the wind shall have with one puff +dispelled me, all of you then will be unable to attend to me, just as +much as I myself won't be able to heed you. You will, when that time +comes, let me go where I please, as I'll let you speed where you choose +to go!" + +These words so harassed Hsi Jen that she hastened to put her hand over +his mouth. "Speak decently," she said; "I was on account of this just +about to admonish you, and now here you are uttering all this still more +loathsome trash." + +"I won't utter these words again," Pao-yue eagerly added. + +"This is the first fault that you must change," Hsi Jen replied. + +"I'll amend," Pao-yue observed, "and if I say anything of the kind again +you can wring my mouth; but what else is there?" + +"The second thing is this," Hsi Jen explained; "whether you really like +to study or whether you only pretend to like study is immaterial; but +you should, when you are in the presence of master, or in the presence +of any one else, not do nothing else than find fault with people and +make fun of them, but behave just as if you were genuinely fond of +study, so that you shouldn't besides provoke your father so much to +anger, and that he should before others have also a chance of saying +something! 'In my family,' he reflects within himself, 'generation after +generation has been fond of books, but ever since I've had you, you +haven't accomplished my expectations, and not only is it that you don't +care about reading books,'--and this has already filled his heart with +anger and vexation,--'but both before my face and behind my back, you +utter all that stuff and nonsense, and give those persons, who have, +through their knowledge of letters, attained high offices, the nickname +of the "the salaried worms." You also uphold that there's no work +exclusive (of the book where appears) "fathom spotless virtue;" and that +all other books consist of foolish compilations, which owe their origin +to former authors, who, unable themselves to expound the writings of +Confucius, readily struck a new line and invented original notions.' Now +with words like these, how can one wonder if master loses all patience, +and if he does from time to time give you a thrashing! and what do you +make other people think of you?" + +"I won't say these things again," Pao-yue laughingly protested, "these +are the reckless and silly absurdities of a time when I was young and +had no idea of the height of the heavens and the thickness of the earth; +but I'll now no more repeat them. What else is there besides?" + +"It isn't right that you should sneer at the bonzes and vilify the +Taoist priests, nor mix cosmetics or prepare rouge," Hsi Jen continued; +"but there's still another thing more important, you shouldn't again +indulge the bad habits of licking the cosmetic, applied by people on +their lips, nor be fond of (girls dressed) in red!" + +"I'll change in all this," Pao-yue added by way of rejoinder; "I'll +change in all this; and if there's anything more be quick and tell me." + +"There's nothing more," Hsi Jen observed; "but you must in everything +exercise a little more diligence, and not indulge your caprices and +allow your wishes to run riot, and you'll be all right. And should you +comply to all these things in real earnest, you couldn't carry me out, +even in a chair with eight bearers." + +"Well, if you do stay in here long enough," Pao-yue remarked with a +smile, "there's no fear as to your not having an eight-bearer-chair to +sit in!" + +Hsi Jen gave a sardonic grin. "I don't care much about it," she replied; +"and were I even to have such good fortune, I couldn't enjoy such a +right. But allowing I could sit in one, there would be no pleasure in +it!" + +While these two were chatting, they saw Ch'iu Wen walk in. "It's the +third watch of the night," she observed, "and you should go to sleep. +Just a few moments back your grandmother lady Chia and our lady sent a +nurse to ask about you, and I replied that you were asleep." + +Pao-yue bade her fetch a watch, and upon looking at the time, he found +indeed that the hand was pointing at ten; whereupon rinsing his mouth +again and loosening his clothes, he retired to rest, where we will leave +him without any further comment. + +The next day, Hsi Jen got up as soon as it was dawn, feeling her body +heavy, her head sore, her eyes swollen, and her limbs burning like fire. +She managed however at first to keep up, an effort though it was, but as +subsequently she was unable to endure the strain, and all she felt +disposed to do was to recline, she therefore lay down in her clothes on +the stove-couch. Pao-yue hastened to tell dowager lady Chia, and the +doctor was sent for, who, upon feeling her pulse and diagnosing her +complaint, declared that there was nothing else the matter with her than +a chill, which she had suddenly contracted, that after she had taken a +dose or two of medicine, it would be dispelled, and that she would be +quite well. After he had written the prescription and taken his +departure, some one was despatched to fetch the medicines, which when +brought were properly decocted. As soon as she had swallowed a dose, +Pao-yue bade her cover herself with her bed-clothes so as to bring on +perspiration; while he himself came into Tai-yue's room to look her up. +Tai-yue was at this time quite alone, reclining on her bed having a +midday siesta, and the waiting-maids having all gone out to attend to +whatever they pleased, the whole room was plunged in stillness and +silence. Pao-yue raised the embroidered soft thread portiere and walked +in; and upon espying Tai-yue in the room fast asleep, he hurriedly +approached her and pushing her: "Dear cousin," he said, "you've just had +your meal, and are you asleep already?" and he kept on calling "Tai-yue" +till he woke her out of her sleep. + +Perceiving that it was Pao-yue, "You had better go for a stroll," Tai-yue +urged, "for the day before yesterday I was disturbed the whole night, +and up to this day I haven't had rest enough to get over the fatigue. My +whole body feels languid and sore." + +"This languor and soreness," Pao-yue rejoined, "are of no consequence; +but if you go on sleeping you'll be feeling very ill; so I'll try and +distract you, and when we've dispelled this lassitude, you'll be all +right." + +Tai-yue closed her eyes. "I don't feel any lassitude," she explained, +"all I want is a little rest; and you had better go elsewhere and come +back after romping about for a while." + +"Where can I go?" Pao-yue asked as he pushed her. "I'm quite sick and +tired of seeing the others." + +At these words, Tai-yue burst out laughing with a sound of Ch'ih. "Well! +since you wish to remain here," she added, "go over there and sit down +quietly, and let's have a chat." + +"I'll also recline," Pao-yue suggested. + +"Well, then, recline!" Tai-yue assented. + +"There's no pillow," observed Pao-yue, "so let us lie on the same +pillow." + +"What nonsense!" Tai-yue urged, "aren't those pillows outside? get one +and lie on it." + +Pao-yue walked into the outer apartment, and having looked about him, he +returned and remarked with a smile: "I don't want those, they may be, +for aught I know, some dirty old hag's." + +Tai-yue at this remark opened her eyes wide, and as she raised herself +up: "You're really," she exclaimed laughingly, "the evil star of my +existence! here, please recline on this pillow!" and as she uttered +these words, she pushed her own pillow towards Pao-yue, and, getting up +she went and fetched another of her own, upon which she lay her head in +such a way that both of them then reclined opposite to each other. But +Tai-yue, upon turning up her eyes and looking, espied on Pao-yue's cheek +on the left side of his face, a spot of blood about the size of a +button, and speedily bending her body, she drew near to him, and rubbing +it with her hand, she scrutinised it closely. "Whose nail," she went on +to inquire, "has scratched this open?" + +Pao-yue with his body still reclining withdrew from her reach, and as he +did so, he answered with a smile: "It isn't a scratch; it must, I +presume, be simply a drop, which bespattered my cheek when I was just +now mixing and clarifying the cosmetic paste for them." + +Saying this, he tried to get at his handkerchief to wipe it off; but +Tai-yue used her own and rubbed it clean for him, while she observed: "Do +you still give your mind to such things? attend to them you may; but +must you carry about you a placard (to make it public)? Though uncle +mayn't see it, were others to notice it, they would treat it as a +strange occurrence and a novel bit of news, and go and tell him to curry +favour, and when it has reached uncle's ear, we shall all again not come +out clean, and provoke him to anger." + +Pao-yue did not in the least heed what she said, being intent upon +smelling a subtle scent which, in point of fact, emanated from Tai-yue's +sleeve, and when inhaled inebriated the soul and paralysed the bones. +With a snatch, Pao-yue laid hold of Tai-yue's sleeve meaning to see what +object was concealed in it; but Tai-yue smilingly expostulated: "At such +a time as this," she said, "who keeps scents about one?" + +"Well, in that case," Pao-yue rejoined with a smirking face, "where does +this scent come from?" + +"I myself don't know," Tai-yue replied; "I presume it must be, there's no +saying, some scent in the press which has impregnated the clothes." + +"It doesn't follow," Pao-yue added, as he shook his head; "the fumes of +this smell are very peculiar, and don't resemble the perfume of +scent-bottles, scent-balls, or scented satchets!" + +"Is it likely that I have, like others, Buddhistic disciples," Tai-yue +asked laughing ironically, "or worthies to give me novel kinds of +scents? But supposing there is about me some peculiar scent, I haven't, +at all events, any older or younger brothers to get the flowers, buds, +dew, and snow, and concoct any for me; all I have are those common +scents, that's all." + +"Whenever I utter any single remark," Pao-yue urged with a grin, "you at +once bring up all these insinuations; but unless I deal with you +severely, you'll never know what stuff I'm made of; but from henceforth +I'll no more show you any grace!" + +As he spoke, he turned himself over, and raising himself, he puffed a +couple of breaths into both his hands, and hastily stretching them out, +he tickled Tai-yue promiscuously under her armpits, and along both sides. +Tai-yue had never been able to stand tickling, so that when Pao-yue put +out his two hands and tickled her violently, she forthwith giggled to +such an extent that she could scarcely gasp for breath. "If you still go +on teasing me," she shouted, "I'll get angry with you!" + +Pao-yue then kept his hands off, and as he laughed, "Tell me," he asked, +"will you again come out with all those words or not?" + +"I daren't do it again," Tai-yue smiled and adjusted her hair; adding +with another laugh: "I may have peculiar scents, but have you any 'warm' +scents?" + +Pao-yue at this question, could not for a time unfold its meaning: "What +'warm' scent?" he therefore asked. + +Tai-yue nodded her head and smiled deridingly. "How stupid! what a fool!" +she sighed; "you have jade, and another person has gold to match with +you, and if some one has 'cold' scent, haven't you any 'warm' scent as a +set-off?" + +Pao-yue at this stage alone understood the import of her remark. + +"A short while back you craved for mercy," Pao-yue observed smilingly, +"and here you are now going on talking worse than ever;" and as he spoke +he again put out his hands. + +"Dear cousin," Tai-yue speedily implored with a smirk, "I won't venture +to do it again." + +"As for letting you off," Pao-yue remarked laughing, "I'll readily let +you off, but do allow me to take your sleeve and smell it!" and while +uttering these words, he hastily pulled the sleeve, and pressing it +against his face, kept on smelling it incessantly, whereupon Tai-yue drew +her hand away and urged: "You must be going now!" + +"Though you may wish me to go, I can't," Pao-yue smiled, "so let us now +lie down with all propriety and have a chat," laying himself down again, +as he spoke, while Tai-yue likewise reclined, and covered her face with +her handkerchief. Pao-yue in a rambling way gave vent to a lot of +nonsense, which Tai-yue did not heed, and Pao-yue went on to inquire: "How +old she was when she came to the capital? what sights and antiquities +she saw on the journey? what relics and curiosities there were at Yang +Chou? what were the local customs and the habits of the people?" + +Tai-yue made no reply; and Pao-yue fearing lest she should go to sleep, +and get ill, readily set to work to beguile her to keep awake. "Ai yah!" +he exclaimed, "at Yang Chou, where your official residence is, has +occurred a remarkable affair; have you heard about it?" + +Tai-yue perceiving that he spoke in earnest, that his words were correct +and his face serious, imagined that what he referred to was a true +story, and she therefore inquired what it was? + +Pao-yue upon hearing her ask this question, forthwith suppressed a laugh, +and, with a glib tongue, he began to spin a yarn. "At Yang Chou," he +said, "there's a hill called the Tai hill; and on this hill stands a +cave called the Lin Tzu." + +"This must all be lies," Tai-yue answered sneeringly, "as I've never +before heard of such a hill." + +"Under the heavens many are the hills and rivers," Pao-yue rejoined, "and +how could you know them all? Wait until I've done speaking, when you +will be free to express your opinion!" + +"Go on then," Tai-yue suggested, whereupon Pao-yue prosecuted his +raillery. "In this Lin Tzu cave," he said, "there was once upon a time a +whole swarm of rat-elves. In some year or other and on the seventh day +of the twelfth moon, an old rat ascended the throne to discuss matters. +'Tomorrow,' he argued, 'is the eighth of the twelfth moon, and men in +the world will all be cooking the congee of the eighth of the twelfth +moon. We have now in our cave a short supply of fruits of all kinds, and +it would be well that we should seize this opportunity to steal a few +and bring them over.' Drawing a mandatory arrow, he handed it to a +small rat, full of aptitude, to go forward on a tour of inspection. The +young rat on his return reported that he had already concluded his +search and inquiries in every place and corner, and that in the temple +at the bottom of the hill alone was the largest stock of fruits and +rice. 'How many kinds of rice are there?' the old rat ascertained, 'and +how many species of fruits?' 'Rice and beans,' the young rat rejoined, +'how many barns-full there are, I can't remember; but in the way of +fruits there are five kinds: 1st, red dates; 2nd, chestnuts; 3rd, ground +nuts; 4th, water caltrops, and 5th, scented taros.' At this report the +old rat was so much elated that he promptly detailed rats to go forth; +and as he drew the mandatory arrow, and inquired who would go and steal +the rice, a rat readily received the order and went off to rob the rice. +Drawing another mandatory arrow, he asked who would go and abstract the +beans, when once more a rat took over the arrow and started to steal the +beans; and one by one subsequently received each an arrow and started on +his errand. There only remained the scented taros, so that picking again +a mandatory arrow, he ascertained who would go and carry away the taros: +whereupon a very puny and very delicate rat was heard to assent. 'I +would like,' he said, 'to go and steal the scented taros.' The old rat +and all the swarm of rats, upon noticing his state, feared that he would +not be sufficiently expert, and apprehending at the same time that he +was too weakly and too devoid of energy, they one and all would not +allow him to proceed. 'Though I be young in years and though my frame be +delicate,' the wee rat expostulated, 'my devices are unlimited, my talk +is glib and my designs deep and farseeing; and I feel convinced that, on +this errand, I shall be more ingenious in pilfering than any of them.' +'How could you be more ingenious than they?' the whole company of rats +asked. 'I won't,' explained the young rat, 'follow their example, and go +straight to work and steal, but by simply shaking my body, and +transforming myself, I shall metamorphose myself into a taro, and roll +myself among the heap of taros, so that people will not be able to +detect me, and to hear me; whereupon I shall stealthily, by means of the +magic art of dividing my body into many, begin the removal, and little +by little transfer the whole lot away, and will not this be far more +ingenious than any direct pilfering or forcible abstraction?' After the +whole swarm of rats had listened to what he had to say, they, with one +voice, exclaimed: 'Excellent it is indeed, but what is this art of +metamorphosis we wonder? Go forth you may, but first transform yourself +and let us see you.' At these words the young rat laughed. 'This isn't a +hard task!' he observed, 'wait till I transform myself.' + +"Having done speaking, he shook his body and shouted out 'transform,' +when he was converted into a young girl, most beauteous and with a most +lovely face. + +"'You've transformed yourself into the wrong thing,' all the rats +promptly added deridingly; 'you said that you were to become a fruit, +and how is it that you've turned into a young lady?' + +"The young rat in its original form rejoined with a sneering smile: 'You +all lack, I maintain, experience of the world; what you simply are aware +of is that this fruit is the scented taro, but have no idea that the +young daughter of Mr. Lin, of the salt tax, is, in real truth, a genuine +scented taro.'" + +Tai-yue having listened to this story, turned herself round and raising +herself, she observed laughing, while she pushed Pao-yue: "I'll take that +mouth of yours and pull it to pieces! Now I see that you've been +imposing upon me." + +With these words on her lips, she readily gave him a pinch, and Pao-yue +hastened to plead for mercy. "My dear cousin," he said, "spare me; I +won't presume to do it again; and it's when I came to perceive this +perfume of yours, that I suddenly bethought myself of this old story." + +"You freely indulge in abusing people," Tai-yue added with a smile, "and +then go on to say that it's an old story." + +But hardly had she concluded this remark before they caught sight of +Pao-ch'ai walk in. "Who has been telling old stories?" she asked with a +beaming face; "do let me also hear them." + +Tai-yue pressed her at once into a seat. "Just see for yourself who else +besides is here!" she smiled; "he goes in for profuse abuses and then +maintains that it's an old story!" + +"Is it indeed cousin Pao-yue?" Pao-ch'ai remarked. "Well, one can't feel +surprised at his doing it; for many have ever been the stories stored up +in his brain. The only pity is that when he should make use of old +stories, he invariably forgets them! To-day, he can easily enough recall +them to mind, but in the stanza of the other night on the banana leaves, +when he should have remembered them, he couldn't after all recollect +what really stared him in the face! and while every one else seemed so +cool, he was in such a flurry that he actually perspired! And yet, at +this moment, he happens once again to have a memory!" + +At these words, Tai-yue laughed. "O-mi-to-fu!" she exclaimed. "You are +indeed my very good cousin! But you've also (to Pao-yue) come across your +match. And this makes it clear that requital and retribution never fail +or err." + +She had just reached this part of her sentence, when in Pao-yue's rooms +was heard a continuous sound of wrangling; but as what transpired is not +yet known, the ensuing chapter will explain. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + Wang Hsi-feng with earnest words upbraids Mrs. Chao's jealous notions. + Lin Tai-yue uses specious language to make sport of Shih Hsiang-yuen's + querulous tone of voice. + + +But to continue. Pao-yue was in Tai yue's apartments relating about the +rat-elves, when Pao-ch'ai entered unannounced, and began to gibe Pao-yue, +with trenchant irony: how that on the fifteenth of the first moon, he +had shown ignorance of the allusion to the green wax; and the three of +them then indulged in that room in mutual poignant satire, for the sake +of fun. Pao-yue had been giving way to solicitude lest Tai-yue should, by +being bent upon napping soon after her meal, be shortly getting an +indigestion, or lest sleep should, at night, be completely dispelled, as +neither of these things were conducive to the preservation of good +health, when luckily Pao-ch'ai walked in, and they chatted and laughed +together; and when Lin Tai-yue at length lost all inclination to dose, he +himself then felt composed in his mind. But suddenly they heard +clamouring begin in his room, and after they had all lent an ear and +listened, Lin Tai-yue was the first to smile and make a remark. "It's +your nurse having a row with Hsi Jen!" she said. "Hsi Jen treats her +well enough, but that nurse of yours would also like to keep her well +under her thumb; she's indeed an old dotard;" and Pao-yue was anxious to +go over at once, but Pao-ch'ai laid hold of him and kept him back, +suggesting: "It's as well that you shouldn't wrangle with your nurse, +for she's quite stupid from old age; and it's but fair, on the contrary, +that you should bear with her a little." + +"I know all about that!" Pao-yue rejoined. But having concluded this +remark, he walked into his room, where he discovered nurse Li, leaning +on her staff, standing in the centre of the floor, abusing Hsi Jen, +saying: "You young wench! how utterly unmindful you are of your origin! +It's I who've raised you up, and yet, when I came just now, you put on +high airs and mighty side, and remained reclining on the stove-couch! +You saw me well enough, but you paid not the least heed to me! Your +whole heart is set upon acting like a wily enchantress to befool Pao-yue; +and you so impose upon Pao-yue that he doesn't notice me, but merely +lends an ear to what you people have to say! You're no more than a low +girl bought for a few taels and brought in here; and will it ever do +that you should be up to your mischievous tricks in this room? But +whether you like it or not, I'll drag you out from this, and give you to +some mean fellow, and we'll see whether you will still behave like a +very imp, and cajole people or not?" + +Hsi Jen was, at first, under the simple impression that the nurse was +wrath for no other reason than because she remained lying down, and she +felt constrained to explain that "she was unwell, that she had just +succeeded in perspiring, and that having had her head covered, she +hadn't really perceived the old lady;" but when she came subsequently to +hear her mention that she imposed upon Pao-yue, and also go so far as to +add that she would be given to some mean fellow, she unavoidably +experienced both a sense of shame and injury, and found it impossible to +restrain herself from beginning to cry. + +Pao-yue had, it is true, caught all that had been said, but unable with +any propriety to take notice of it, he thought it his duty to explain +matters for her. "She's ill," he observed, "and is taking medicines; and +if you don't believe it," he went on, "well then ask the rest of the +servant-girls." + +Nurse Li at these words flew into a more violent dudgeon. "Your sole +delight is to screen that lot of sly foxes!" she remarked, "and do you +pay any notice to me? No, none at all! and whom would you like me to go +and ask; who's it that doesn't back you? and who hasn't been dismounted +from her horse by Hsi Jen? I know all about it; but I'll go with you and +explain all these matters to our old mistress and my lady; for I've +nursed you till I've brought you to this age, and now that you don't +feed on milk, you thrust me on one side, and avail yourself of the +servant-girls, in your wish to browbeat me." + +As she uttered this remark, she too gave way to tears, but by this time, +Tai-yue and Pao-ch'ai had also come over, and they set to work to +reassure her. "You, old lady," they urged, "should bear with them a +little, and everything will be right!" And when nurse Li saw these two +arrive, she hastened to lay bare her grievances to them; and taking up +the question of the dismissal in days gone by, of Hsi Hsueeh, for having +drunk some tea, of the cream eaten on the previous day, and other +similar matters, she spun a long, interminable yarn. + +By a strange coincidence lady Feng was at this moment in the upper +rooms, where she had been making up the account of losses and winnings, +and upon hearing at the back a continuous sound of shouting and +bustling, she readily concluded that nurse Li's old complaint was +breaking forth, and that she was finding fault with Pao-yue's servants. +But she had, as luck would have it, lost money in gambling on this +occasion, so that she was ready to visit her resentment upon others. +With hurried step, she forthwith came over, and laying hold of nurse Li, +"Nurse," she said smiling, "don't lose your temper, on a great festival +like this, and after our venerable lady has just gone through a day in +excellent spirits! You're an old dame, and should, when others get up a +row, still do what is right and keep them in proper order; and aren't +you, instead of that, aware what good manners imply, that you will start +vociferating in this place, and make our dowager lady full of +displeasure? Tell me who's not good, and I'll beat her for you; but be +quick and come along with me over to my quarters, where a pheasant which +they have roasted is scalding hot, and let us go and have a glass of +wine!" And as she spoke, she dragged her along and went on her way. +"Feng Erh," she also called, "hold the staff for your old lady Li, and +the handkerchief to wipe her tears with!" While nurse Li walked along +with lady Feng, her feet scarcely touched the ground, as she kept on +saying: "I don't really attach any value to this decrepid existence of +mine! and I had rather disregard good manners, have a row and lose face, +as it's better, it seems to me, than to put up with the temper of that +wench!" + +Behind followed Pao-ch'ai and Tai-yue, and at the sight of the way in +which lady Feng dealt with her, they both clapped their hands, and +exclaimed, laughing, "What piece of luck that this gust of wind has +come, and dragged away this old matron!" while Pao-yue nodded his head to +and fro and soliloquised with a sigh: "One can neither know whence +originates this score; for she will choose the weak one to maltreat; nor +can one see what girl has given her offence that she has come to be put +in her black books!" + +Scarcely had he ended this remark, before Ch'ing Wen, who stood by, put +in her word. "Who's gone mad again?" she interposed, "and what good +would come by hurting her feelings? But did even any one happen to hurt +her, she would have pluck enough to bear the brunt, and wouldn't act so +improperly as to involve others!" + +Hsi Jen wept, and as she, did so, she drew Pao-yue towards her: "All +through my having aggrieved an old nurse," she urged, "you've now again +given umbrage, entirely on my account, to this crowd of people; and +isn't this still enough for me to bear but must you also go and drag in +third parties?" + +When Pao-yue realised that to this sickness of hers, had also been +superadded all these annoyances, he promptly stifled his resentment, +suppressed his voice and consoled her so far as to induce her to lie +down again to perspire. And when he further noticed how scalding like +soup and burning like fire she was, he himself watched by her, and +reclining by her side, he tried to cheer her, saying: "All you must do +is to take good care of your ailment; and don't give your mind to those +trifling matters, and get angry." + +"Were I," Hsi Jen smiled sardonically, "to lose my temper over such +concerns, would I be able to stand one moment longer in this room? The +only thing is that if she goes on, day after day, doing nothing else +than clamour in this manner, how can she let people get along? But you +rashly go and hurt people's feelings for our sakes; but they'll bear it +in mind, and when they find an opportunity, they'll come out with what's +easy enough to say, but what's not pleasant to hear, and how will we all +feel then?" + +While her mouth gave utterance to these words, she could not stop her +tears from running; but fearful, on the other hand, lest Pao-yue should +be annoyed, she felt compelled to again strain every nerve to repress +them. But in a short while, the old matrons employed for all sorts of +duties, brought in some mixture of two drugs; and, as Pao-yue noticed +that she was just on the point of perspiring, he did not allow her to +get up, but readily taking it up to her, she immediately swallowed it, +with her head still on her pillow; whereupon he gave speedy directions +to the young servant-maids to lay her stove-couch in order. + +"Whether you mean to have anything to eat or not," Hsi Jen advised, "you +should after all sit for a time with our old mistress and our lady, and +have a romp with the young ladies; after which you can come back again; +while I, by quietly keeping lying down, will also feel the better." + +When Pao-yue heard this suggestion, he had no help but to accede, and, +after she had divested herself of her hair-pins and earrings, and he saw +her lie down, he betook himself into the drawing-rooms, where he had his +repast with old lady Chia. But the meal over, her ladyship felt still +disposed to play at cards with the nurses, who had looked after the +household for many years; and Pao-yue, bethinking himself of Hsi Jen, +hastened to return to his apartments; where seeing that Hsi Jen was +drowsily falling asleep, he himself would have wished to go to bed, but +the hour was yet early. And as about this time Ch'ing Wen, I Hsia, Ch'in +Wen, Pi Hen had all, in their desire of getting some excitement, started +in search of Yuean Yang, Hu Po and their companions, to have a romp with +them, and he espied She Yueeh alone in the outer room, having a game of +dominoes by lamp-light, Pao-yue inquired full of smiles: "How is it you +don't go with them?" + +"I've no money," She Yueeh replied. + +"Under the bed," continued Pao-yue, "is heaped up all that money, and +isn't it enough yet for you to lose from?" + +"Had we all gone to play," She Yueeh added, "to whom would the charge of +this apartment have been handed over? That other one is sick again, and +the whole room is above, one mass of lamps, and below, full of fire; and +all those old matrons, ancient as the heavens, should, after all their +exertions in waiting upon you from morning to night, be also allowed +some rest; while the young servant girls, on the other hand, have +likewise been on duty the whole day long, and shouldn't they even at +this hour be left to go and have some distraction? and that's why I am +in here on watch." + +When Pao-yue heard these words, which demonstrated distinctly that she +was another Hsi Jen, he consequently put on a smile and remarked: "I'll +sit in here, so you had better set your mind at ease and go!" + +"Since you remain in here, there's less need for me to go," resumed She +Yueeh, "for we two can chat and play and laugh; and won't that be nice?" + +"What can we two do? it will be awfully dull! but never mind," Pao-yue +rejoined; "this morning you said that your head itched, and now that you +have nothing to do, I may as well comb it for you." + +"Yes! do so!" readily assented She Yueeh, upon catching what he +suggested; and while still speaking, she brought over the dressing-case +containing a set of small drawers and looking-glass, and taking off her +ornaments, she dishevelled her hair; whereupon Pao-yue picked up the fine +comb and passed it repeatedly through her hair; but he had only combed +it three or five times, when he perceived Ch'ing Wen hurriedly walk in +to fetch some money. As soon as she caught sight of them both: "You +haven't as yet drunk from the marriage cup," she said with a smile full +of irony, "and have you already put up your hair?" + +"Now that you've come, let me also comb yours for you," Pao-yue +continued. + +"I'm not blessed with such excessive good fortune!" Ch'ing Wen retorted, +and as she uttered these words, she took the money, and forthwith +dashing the portiere after her, she quitted the room. + +Pao-yue stood at the back of She Yueeh, and She Yueeh sat opposite the +glass, so that the two of them faced each other in it, and Pao-yue +readily observed as he gazed in the glass, "In the whole number of rooms +she's the only one who has a glib tongue!" + +She Yueeh at these words hastily waved her hand towards the inside of the +glass, and Pao-yue understood the hint; and suddenly a sound of "hu" was +heard from the portiere, and Ch'ing Wen ran in once again. + +"How have I got a glib tongue?" she inquired; "it would be well for us +to explain ourselves." + +"Go after your business, and have done," She Yueeh interposed laughingly; +"what's the use of your coming and asking questions of people?" + +"Will you also screen him?" Ch'ing Wen smiled significantly; "I know all +about your secret doings, but wait until I've got back my capital, and +we'll then talk matters over!" + +With this remark still on her lips, she straightway quitted the room, +and during this while, Pao-yue having finished combing her hair, asked +She Yueeh to quietly wait upon him, while he went to sleep, as he would +not like to disturb Hsi Jen. + +Of the whole night there is nothing to record. But the next day, when he +got up at early dawn, Hsi Jen had already perspired, during the night, +so that she felt considerably lighter and better; but limiting her diet +to a little rice soup, she remained quiet and nursed herself, and Pao-yue +was so relieved in mind that he came, after his meal, over on this side +to his aunt Hsueeh's on a saunter. The season was the course of the first +moon, and the school was shut up for the new year holidays; while in the +inner chambers the girls had put by their needlework, and were all +having a time of leisure, and hence it was that when Chia Huan too came +over in search of distraction, he discovered Pao-ch'ai, Hsiang Ling, +Ying Erh, the three of them, in the act of recreating themselves by +playing at chess. Chia Huan, at the sight of them, also wished to join +in their games; and Pao-ch'ai, who had always looked upon him with, in +fact, the same eye as she did Pao-yue, and with no different sentiment of +any kind, pressed him to come up, upon hearing that he was on this +occasion desirous to play; and, when he had seated himself together with +them, they began to gamble, staking each time a pile of ten cash. The +first time, he was the winner, and he felt supremely elated at heart, +but as it happened that he subsequently lost in several consecutive +games he soon became a prey to considerable distress. But in due course +came the game in which it was his turn to cast the dice, and, if in +throwing, he got seven spots, he stood to win, but he was likewise bound +to be a winner were he to turn up six; and when Ying Erh had turned up +three spots and lost, he consequently took up the dice, and dashing them +with spite, one of them settled at five; and, as the other reeled wildly +about, Ying Erh clapped her hands, and kept on shouting, "one spot;" +while Chia Huan at once gazed with fixed eye and cried at random: "It's +six, it's seven, it's eight!" But the dice, as it happened, turned up at +one spot, and Chia Huan was so exasperated that putting out his hand, he +speedily made a snatch at the dice, and eventually was about to lay hold +of the money, arguing that it was six spot. But Ying Erh expostulated, +"It was distinctly an ace," she said. And as Pao-ch'ai noticed how +distressed Chia Huan was, she forthwith cast a glance at Ying Erh and +observed: "The older you get, the less manners you have! Is it likely +that gentlemen will cheat you? and don't you yet put down the money?" + +Ying Erh felt her whole heart much aggrieved, but as she heard Pao-ch'ai +make these remarks, she did not presume to utter a sound, and as she was +under the necessity of laying down the cash, she muttered to herself: +"This one calls himself a gentleman, and yet cheats us of these few +cash, for which I myself even have no eye! The other day when I played +with Mr. Pao-yue, he lost ever so many, and yet he did not distress +himself! and what remained of the cash were besides snatched away by a +few servant-girls, but all he did was to smile, that's all!" + +Pao-ch'ai did not allow her time to complete what she had to say, but +there and then called her to account and made her desist; whereupon Chia +Huan exclaimed: "How can I compare with Pao-yue; you all fear him, and +keep on good terms with him, while you all look down upon me for not +being the child of my lady." And as he uttered these words, he at once +gave way to tears. + +"My dear cousin," Pao-ch'ai hastened to advise him, "leave off at once +language of this kind, for people will laugh at you;" and then went on +to scold Ying Erh, when Pao-yue just happened to come in. Perceiving him +in this plight, "What is the matter?" he asked; but Chia Huan had not +the courage to say anything. + +Pao-ch'ai was well aware of the custom, which prevailed in their family, +that younger brothers lived in respect of the elder brothers, but she +was not however cognisant of the fact that Pao-yue would not that any one +should entertain any fear of him. His idea being that elder as well as +younger brothers had, all alike, father and mother to admonish them, and +that there was no need for any of that officiousness, which, instead of +doing good gave, on the contrary, rise to estrangement. "Besides," (he +reasoned,) "I'm the offspring of the primary wife, while he's the son of +the secondary wife, and, if by treating him as leniently as I have done, +there are still those to talk about me, behind my back, how could I +exercise any control over him?" But besides these, there were other +still more foolish notions, which he fostered in his mind; but what +foolish notions they were can you, reader, guess? As a result of his +growing up, from his early youth, among a crowd of girls, of whom, in +the way of sister, there was Yuean Ch'un, of cousins, from his paternal +uncle's side, there were Ying Ch'un, and Hsi Ch'un, and of relatives +also there were Shih Hsiang-yuen, Lin Tai-yue, Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai and the +rest, he, in due course, resolved in his mind that the divine and +unsullied virtue of Heaven and earth was only implanted in womankind, +and that men were no more than feculent dregs and foul dirt. And for +this reason it was that men were without discrimination, considered by +him as so many filthy objects, which might or might not exist; while the +relationships of father, paternal uncles, and brothers, he did not +however presume to disregard, as these were among the injunctions +bequeathed by the holy man, and he felt bound to listen to a few of +their precepts. But to the above causes must be assigned the fact that, +among his brothers, he did no more than accomplish the general purport +of the principle of human affections; bearing in mind no thought +whatever that he himself was a human being of the male sex, and that it +was his duty to be an example to his younger brothers. And this is why +Chia Huan and the others entertained no respect for him, though in their +veneration for dowager lady Chia, they yielded to him to a certain +degree. + +Pao-ch'ai harboured fears lest, on this occasion, Pao-yue should call him +to book, and put him out of face, and she there and then lost no time in +taking Chia Huan's part with a view to screening him. + +"In this felicitous first moon what are you blubbering for?" Pao-yue +inquired, "if this place isn't nice, why then go somewhere else to play. +But from reading books, day after day, you've studied so much that +you've become quite a dunce. If this thing, for instance, isn't good, +that must, of course, be good, so then discard this and take up that, +but is it likely that by sticking to this thing and crying for a while +that it will become good? You came originally with the idea of reaping +some fun, and you've instead provoked yourself to displeasure, and isn't +it better then that you should be off at once." + +Chia Huan upon hearing these words could not but come back to his +quarters; and Mrs. Chao noticing the frame of mind in which he was felt +constrained to inquire: "Where is it that you've been looked down upon +by being made to fill up a hole, and being trodden under foot?" + +"I was playing with cousin Pao-ch'ai," Chia Huan readily replied, "when +Ying Erh insulted me, and deprived me of my money, and brother Pao-yue +drove me away." + +"Ts'ui!" exclaimed Mrs. Chao, "who bade you (presume so high) as to get +up into that lofty tray? You low and barefaced thing! What place is +there that you can't go to and play; and who told you to run over there +and bring upon yourself all this shame?" + +As she spoke, lady Feng was, by a strange coincidence, passing outside +under the window; so that every word reached her ear, and she speedily +asked from outside the window: "What are you up to in this happy first +moon? These brothers are, really, but mere children, and will you just +for a slight mistake, go on preaching to him! what's the use of coming +out with all you've said? Let him go wherever he pleases; for there are +still our lady and Mr. Chia Cheng to keep him in order. But you go and +sputter him with your gigantic mouth; he's at present a master, and if +there be anything wrong about him, there are, after all, those to rate +him; and what business is that of yours? Brother Huan, come out with +you, and follow me and let us go and enjoy ourselves." + +Chia Huan had ever been in greater fear and trembling of lady Feng, than +of madame Wang, so that when her summons reached his ear, he hurriedly +went out, while Mrs. Chao, on the other hand, did not venture to breathe +a single word. + +"You too," resumed lady Feng, addressing Chia Huan; "are a thing devoid +of all natural spirit! I've often told you that if you want to eat, +drink, play, or laugh, you were quite free to go and play with whatever +female cousin, male cousin, or sister-in-law you choose to disport +yourself with; but you won't listen to my words. On the contrary, you +let all these persons teach you to be depraved in your heart, perverse +in your mind, to be sly, artful, and domineering; and you've, besides, +no respect for your own self, but will go with that low-bred lot! and +your perverse purpose is to begrudge people's preferences! But what +you've lost are simply a few cash, and do you behave in this manner? How +much did you lose?" she proceeded to ask Chia Huan; and Chia Huan, upon +hearing this question, felt constrained to obey, by saying something in +the way of a reply. "I've lost," he explained, "some hundred or two +hundred cash." + +"You have," rejoined lady Feng, "the good fortune of being a gentleman, +and do you make such a fuss for the loss of a hundred or two hundred +cash!" and turning her head round, "Feng Erh," she added, "go and fetch +a thousand cash; and as the girls are all playing at the back, take him +along to go and play. And if again by and by, you're so mean and +deceitful, I shall, first of all, beat you, and then tell some one to +report it at school, and won't your skin be flayed for you? All because +of this want of respect of yours, your elder cousin is so angry with you +that his teeth itch; and were it not that I prevent him, he would hit +you with his foot in the stomach and kick all your intestines out! Get +away," she then cried; whereupon Chia Huan obediently followed Feng Erh, +and taking the money he went all by himself to play with Ying Ch'un and +the rest; where we shall leave him without another word. + +But to return to Pao-yue. He was just amusing himself and laughing with +Pao-ch'ai, when at an unexpected moment, he heard some one announce that +Miss Shih had come. At these words, Pao-yue rose, and was at once going +off when "Wait," shouted Pao-ch'ai with a smile, "and we'll go over +together and see her." + +Saying this, she descended from the stove-couch, and came, in company +with Pao-yue, to dowager lady Chia's on this side, where they saw Shih +Hsiang-yuen laughing aloud, and talking immoderately; and upon catching +sight of them both, she promptly inquired after their healths, and +exchanged salutations. + + +Lin Tai-yue just happened to be standing by, and having set the question +to Pao-yue "Where do you come from?" "I come from cousin Pao-ch'ai's +rooms," Pao-yue readily replied. + +Tai-yue gave a sardonic smile. "What I maintain is this," she rejoined, +"that lucky enough for you, you were detained over there; otherwise, you +would long ago have, at once, come flying in here!" + +"Am I only free to play with you?" Pao-yue inquired, "and to dispel your +ennui! I simply went over to her place for a run, and that quite +casually, and will you insinuate all these things?" + +"Your words are quite devoid of sense," Tai-yue added; "whether you go or +not what's that to me? neither did I tell you to give me any +distraction; you're quite at liberty from this time forth not to pay any +notice to me!" + +Saying this, she flew into a high dudgeon and rushed back into her room; +but Pao-yue promptly followed in her footsteps: "Here you are again in a +huff," he urged, "and all for no reason! Had I even passed any remark +that I shouldn't, you should anyhow have still sat in there, and chatted +and laughed with the others for a while; instead of that, you come again +to sit and mope all alone!" + +"Are you my keeper?" Tai-yue expostulated. + +"I couldn't, of course," Pao-yue smiled, "presume to exercise any +influence over you; but the only thing is that you are doing your own +health harm!" + +"If I do ruin my health," Tai-yue rejoined, "and I die, it's my own +lookout! what's that to do with you?" + +"What's the good," protested Pao-yue, "of talking in this happy first +moon of dying and of living?" + +"I _will_ say die," insisted Tai-yue, "die now, at this very moment! +but you're afraid of death; and you may live a long life of a hundred +years, but what good will that be!" + +"If all we do is to go on nagging in this way," Pao-yue remarked smiling, +"will I any more be afraid to die? on the contrary, it would be better +to die, and be free!" + +"Quite so!" continued Tai-yue with alacrity, "if we go on nagging in this +way, it would be better for me to die, and that you should be free of +me!" + +"I speak of my own self dying," Pao-yue added, "so don't misunderstand my +words and accuse people wrongly." + +While he was as yet speaking, Pao-ch'ai entered the room: "Cousin Shih +is waiting for you;" she said; and with these words, she hastily pushed +Pao-yue on, and they walked away. + +Tai-yue, meanwhile, became more and more a prey to resentment; and +disconsolate as she felt, she shed tears in front of the window. But not +time enough had transpired to allow two cups of tea to be drunk, before +Pao-yue came back again. At the sight of him, Tai-yue sobbed still more +fervently and incessantly, and Pao-yue realising the state she was in, +and knowing well enough how arduous a task it would be to bring her +round, began to join together a hundred, yea a thousand kinds of soft +phrases and tender words to console her. But at an unforeseen moment, +and before he could himself open his mouth, he heard Tai-yue anticipate +him. + +"What have you come back again for?" she asked. "Let me die or live, as +I please, and have done! You've really got at present some one to play +with you, one who, compared with me, is able to read and able to +compose, able to write, to speak, as well as to joke, one too who for +fear lest you should have ruffled your temper dragged you away: and what +do you return here for now?" + +Pao-yue, after listening to all she had to say, hastened to come up to +her. "Is it likely," he observed in a low tone of voice, "that an +intelligent person like you isn't so much as aware that near relatives +can't be separated by a distant relative, and a remote friend set aside +an old friend! I'm stupid, there's no gainsaying, but I do anyhow +understand what these two sentiments imply. You and I are, in the first +place, cousins on my father's sister's side; while sister Pao-ch'ai and +I are two cousins on mother's sides, so that, according to the degrees +of relationship, she's more distant than yourself. In the second place, +you came here first, and we two have our meals at one table and sleep in +one bed, having ever since our youth grown up together; while she has +only recently come, and how could I ever distance you on her account?" + +"Ts'ui!" Tai-yue exclaimed. "Will I forsooth ever make you distance her! +who and what kind of person have I become to do such a thing? What (I +said) was prompted by my own motives." + +"I too," Pao-yue urged, "made those remarks prompted by my own heart's +motives, and do you mean to say that your heart can only read the +feelings of your own heart, and has no idea whatsoever of my own?" + +Tai-yue at these words, lowered her head and said not a word. But after a +long interval, "You only know," she continued, "how to feel bitter +against people for their action in censuring you: but you don't, after +all, know that you yourself provoke people to such a degree, that it's +hard for them to put up with it! Take for instance the weather of to-day +as an example. It's distinctly very cold, to-day, and yet, how is it +that you are so contrary as to go and divest yourself of the pelisse +with the bluish breast-fur overlapping the cloth?" + +"Why say I didn't wear it?" Pao-yue smilingly observed. "I did, but +seeing you get angry I felt suddenly in such a terrible blaze, that I at +once took it off!" + +Tai-yue heaved a sigh. "You'll by and by catch a cold," she remarked, +"and then you'll again have to starve, and vociferate for something to +eat!" + +While these two were having this colloquy, Hsiang-yuen was seen to walk +in! "You two, Ai cousin and cousin Lin," she ventured jokingly, "are +together playing every day, and though I've managed to come after ever +so much trouble, you pay no heed to me at all!" + +"It's invariably the rule," Tai-yue retorted smilingly, "that those who +have a defect in their speech will insist upon talking; she can't even +come out correctly with 'Erh' (secundus) cousin, and keeps on calling +him 'Ai' cousin, 'Ai' cousin! And by and by when you play 'Wei Ch'i' +you're sure also to shout out yao, ai, (instead of erh), san; (one, two, +three)." + +Pao-yue laughed. "If you imitate her," he interposed, "and get into that +habit, you'll also begin to bite your tongue when you talk." + +"She won't make even the slightest allowance for any one," Hsiang-yuen +rejoined; "her sole idea being to pick out others' faults. You may +readily be superior to any mortal being, but you shouldn't, after all, +offend against what's right and make fun of every person you come +across! But I'll point out some one, and if you venture to jeer her, +I'll at once submit to you." + +"Who is it?" Tai-yue vehemently inquired. + +"If you do have the courage," Hsiang-yuen answered, "to pick out cousin +Pao-ch'ai's faults, you then may well be held to be first-rate!" + +Tai-yue after hearing these words, gave a sarcastic smile. "I was +wondering," she observed, "who it was. Is it indeed she? How could I +ever presume to pick out hers?" + +Pao-yue allowed her no time to finish, but hastened to say something to +interrupt the conversation. + +"I couldn't, of course, during the whole of this my lifetime," +Hsiang-yuen laughed, "attain your standard! but my earnest wish is that +by and by should be found for you, cousin Lin, a husband, who bites his +tongue when he speaks, so that you should every minute and second listen +to 'ai-ya-os!' O-mi-to-fu, won't then your reward be manifest to my +eyes!" + +As she made this remark, they all burst out laughing heartily, and +Hsiang-yuen speedily turned herself round and ran away. + +But reader, do you want to know the sequel? Well, then listen to the +explanation given in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + The eminent Hsi Jen, with winsome ways, rails at Pao-yue, with a view + to exhortation. + The beauteous P'ing Erh, with soft words, screens Chia Lien. + + +But to resume our story. When Shih Hsiang-yuen ran out of the room, she +was all in a flutter lest Lin Tai-yue should catch her up; but Pao-yue, +who came after her, readily shouted out, "You'll trip and fall. How ever +could she come up to you?" + +Lin Tai-yue went in pursuit of her as far as the entrance, when she was +impeded from making further progress by Pao-yue, who stretched his arms +out against the posts of the door. + +"Were I to spare Yuen Erh, I couldn't live!" Lin Tai-yue exclaimed, as she +tugged at his arms. But Hsiang-yuen, perceiving that Pao-yue obstructed +the door, and surmising that Tai-yue could not come out, speedily stood +still. "My dear cousin," she smilingly pleaded, "do let me off this +time!" + +But it just happened that Pao-ch'ai, who was coming along, was at the +back of Hsiang-yuen, and with a face also beaming with smiles: "I advise +you both," she said, "to leave off out of respect for cousin Pao-yue, and +have done." + +"I don't agree to that," Tai-yue rejoined; "are you people, pray, all of +one mind to do nothing but make fun of me?" + +"Who ventures to make fun of you?" Pao-yue observed advisingly; "and +hadn't you made sport of her, would she have presumed to have said +anything about you?" + +While this quartet were finding it an arduous task to understand one +another, a servant came to invite them to have their repast, and they +eventually crossed over to the front side, and as it was already time +for the lamps to be lit, madame Wang, widow Li Wan, lady Feng, Ying +Ch'un, T'an Ch'un, Hsi Ch'un and the other cousins, adjourned in a body +to dowager lady Chia's apartments on this side, where the whole company +spent a while in a chat on irrelevant topics, after which they each +returned to their rooms and retired to bed. Hsiang-yuen, as of old, +betook herself to Tai-yue's quarters to rest, and Pao-yue escorted them +both into their apartment, and it was after the hour had already past +the second watch, and Hsi Jen had come and pressed him several times, +that he at length returned to his own bedroom and went to sleep. The +next morning, as soon as it was daylight, he threw his clothes over him, +put on his low shoes and came over into Tai-yue's room, where he however +saw nothing of the two girls Tzu Chuean and Ts'ui Lu, as there was no one +else here in there besides his two cousins, still reclining under the +coverlets. Tai-yue was closely wrapped in a quilt of almond-red silk, and +lying quietly, with closed eyes fast asleep; while Shih Hsiang-yuen, with +her handful of shiny hair draggling along the edge of the pillow, was +covered only up to the chest, and outside the coverlet rested her curved +snow-white arm, with the gold bracelets, which she had on. + +At the sight of her, Pao-yue heaved a sigh. "Even when asleep," he +soliloquised, "she can't be quiet! but by and by, when the wind will +have blown on her, she'll again shout that her shoulder is sore!" With +these words, he gently covered her, but Lin Tai-yue had already awoke out +of her sleep, and becoming aware that there was some one about, she +promptly concluded that it must, for a certainty, be Pao-yue, and turning +herself accordingly round, and discovering at a glance that the truth +was not beyond her conjectures, she observed: "What have you run over to +do at this early hour?" to which question Pao-yue replied: "Do you call +this early? but get up and see for yourself!" + +"First quit the room," Tai-yue suggested, "and let us get up!" + +Pao-yue thereupon made his exit into the ante-chamber, and Tai-yue jumped +out of bed, and awoke Hsiang-yuen. When both of them had put on their +clothes, Pao-yue re-entered and took a seat by the side of the toilet +table; whence he beheld Tzu-chuean and Hsueeh Yen walk in and wait upon +them, as they dressed their hair and performed their ablutions. +Hsiang-yuen had done washing her face, and Ts'uei Lue at once took the +remaining water and was about to throw it away, when Pao-yue interposed, +saying: "Wait, I'll avail myself of this opportunity to wash too and +finish with it, and thus save myself the trouble of having again to go +over!" Speaking the while, he hastily came forward, and bending his +waist, he washed his face twice with two handfuls of water, and when Tzu +Chuean went over to give him the scented soap, Pao-yue added: "In this +basin, there's a good deal of it, and there's no need of rubbing any +more!" He then washed his face with two more handfuls, and forthwith +asked for a towel, and Ts'uei Lue exclaimed: "What! have you still got +this failing? when will you turn a new leaf?" But Pao-yue paid not so +much as any heed to her, and there and then called for some salt, with +which he rubbed his teeth, and rinsed his mouth. When he had done, he +perceived that Hsiang-yuen had already finished combing her hair, and +speedily coming up to her, he put on a smile, and said: "My dear cousin, +comb my hair for me!" + +"This can't be done!" Hsiang-yuen objected. + +"My dear cousin," Pao-yue continued smirkingly, "how is it that you +combed it for me in former times?" + +"I've forgotten now how to comb it!" Hsiang-yuen replied. + +"I'm not, after all, going out of doors," Pao-yue observed, "nor will I +wear a hat or frontlet, so that all that need be done is to plait a few +queues, that's all!" Saying this, he went on to appeal to her in a +thousand and one endearing terms, so that Hsiang-yuen had no alternative, +but to draw his head nearer to her and to comb one queue after another, +and as when he stayed at home he wore no hat, nor had, in fact, any +tufted horns, she merely took the short surrounding hair from all four +sides, and twisting it into small tufts, she collected it together over +the hair on the crown of the head, and plaited a large queue, binding it +fast with red ribbon; while from the root of the hair to the end of the +queue, were four pearls in a row, below which, in the way of a tip, was +suspended a golden pendant. + +"Of these pearls there are only three," Hsiang-yuen remarked as she went +on plaiting; "this isn't one like them; I remember these were all of one +kind, and how is it that there's one short?" + +"I've lost one," Pao-yue rejoined. + +"It must have dropped," Hsiang-yuen added, "when you went out of doors, +and been picked up by some one when you were off your guard; and he's +now, instead of you, the richer for it." + +"One can neither tell whether it has been really lost," Tai-yue, who +stood by, interposed, smiling the while sarcastically; "nor could one +say whether it hasn't been given away to some one to be mounted in some +trinket or other and worn!" + +Pao-yue made no reply; but set to work, seeing that the two sides of the +dressing table were all full of toilet boxes and other such articles, +taking up those that came under his hand and examining them. Grasping +unawares a box of cosmetic, which was within his reach, he would have +liked to have brought it to his lips, but he feared again lest +Hsiang-yuen should chide him. While he was hesitating whether to do so or +not, Hsiang-yuen, from behind, stretched forth her arm and gave him a +smack, which sent the cosmetic flying from his hand, as she cried out: +"You good-for-nothing! when will you mend those weaknesses of yours!" +But hardly had she had time to complete this remark, when she caught +sight of Hsi Jen walk in, who upon perceiving this state of things, +became aware that he was already combed and washed, and she felt +constrained to go back and attend to her own coiffure and ablutions. But +suddenly, she saw Pao-ch'ai come in and inquire: "Where's cousin Pao-yue +gone?" + +"Do you mean to say," Hsi Jen insinuated with a sardonic smile, "that +your cousin Pao-yue has leisure to stay at home?" + +When Pao-ch'ai heard these words, she inwardly comprehended her meaning, +and when she further heard Hsi Jen remark with a sigh: "Cousins may well +be on intimate terms, but they should also observe some sort of +propriety; and they shouldn't night and day romp together; and no matter +how people may tender advice it's all like so much wind blowing past the +ears." Pao-ch'ai began, at these remarks, to cogitate within her mind: +"May I not, possibly, have been mistaken in my estimation of this girl; +for to listen to her words, she would really seem to have a certain +amount of _savoir faire_!" + +Pao-ch'ai thereupon took a seat on the stove-couch, and quietly, in the +course of their conversation on one thing and another, she managed to +ascertain her age, her native village and other such particulars, and +then setting her mind diligently to put, on the sly, her conversation +and mental capacity to the test, she discovered how deeply worthy she +was to be respected and loved. But in a while Pao-yue arrived, and +Pao-ch'ai at once quitted the apartment. + +"How is it," Pao-yue at once inquired, "that cousin Pao-ch'ai was +chatting along with you so lustily, and that as soon as she saw me +enter, she promptly ran away?" + +Hsi Jen did not make any reply to his first question, and it was only +when he had repeated it that Hsi Jen remarked: "Do you ask me? How can I +know what goes on between you two?" + +When Pao-yue heard these words, and he noticed that the look on her face +was so unlike that of former days, he lost no time in putting on a smile +and asking: "Why is it that you too are angry in real earnest?" + +"How could I presume to get angry!" Hsi Jen rejoined smiling +indifferently; "but you mustn't, from this day forth, put your foot into +this room! and as you have anyhow people to wait on you, you shouldn't +come again to make use of my services, for I mean to go and attend to +our old mistress, as in days of old." + +With this remark still on her lips, she lay herself down on the +stove-couch and closed her eyes. When Pao-yue perceived the state of mind +she was in, he felt deeply surprised and could not refrain from coming +forward and trying to cheer her up. But Hsi Jen kept her eyes closed and +paid no heed to him, so that Pao-yue was quite at a loss how to act. But +espying She Yueeh enter the room, he said with alacrity: "What's up with +your sister?" + +"Do I know?" answered She Yueeh, "examine your own self and you'll +readily know!" + +After these words had been heard by Pao-yue, he gazed vacantly for some +time, feeling the while very unhappy; but raising himself impetuously: +"Well!" he exclaimed, "if you don't notice me, all right, I too will go +to sleep," and as he spoke he got up, and, descending from the couch, he +betook himself to his own bed and went to sleep. Hsi Jen noticing that +he had not budged for ever so long, and that he faintly snored, presumed +that he must have fallen fast asleep, so she speedily rose to her feet, +and, taking a wrapper, came over and covered him. But a sound of "hu" +reached her ear, as Pao-yue promptly threw it off and once again closed +his eyes and feigned sleep. Hsi Jen distinctly grasped his idea and, +forthwith nodding her head, she smiled coldly. "You really needn't lose +your temper! but from this time forth, I'll become mute, and not say one +word to you; and what if I do?" + +Pao-yue could not restrain himself from rising. "What have I been up to +again," he asked, "that you're once more at me with your advice? As far +as your advice goes, it's all well and good; but just now without one +word of counsel, you paid no heed to me when I came in, but, flying into +a huff, you went to sleep. Nor could I make out what it was all about, +and now here you are again maintaining that I'm angry. But when did I +hear you, pray, give me a word of advice of any kind?" + +"Doesn't your mind yet see for itself?" Hsi Jen replied; "and do you +still expect me to tell you?" + +While they were disputing, dowager lady Chia sent a servant to call him +to his repast, and he thereupon crossed over to the front; but after he +had hurriedly swallowed a few bowls of rice, he returned to his own +apartment, where he discovered Hsi Jen reclining on the outer +stove-couch, while She Yueeh was playing with the dominoes by her side. +Pao-yue had been ever aware of the intimacy which existed between She +Yueeh and Hsi Jen, so that paying not the slightest notice to even She +Yueeh, he raised the soft portiere and straightway walked all alone into +the inner apartment. She Yueeh felt constrained to follow him in, but +Pao-yue at once pushed her out, saying: "I don't venture to disturb you +two;" so that She Yueeh had no alternative but to leave the room with a +smiling countenance, and to bid two young waiting-maids go in. Pao-yue +took hold of a book and read for a considerable time in a reclining +position; but upon raising his head to ask for some tea, he caught sight +of a couple of waiting-maids, standing below; the one of whom, slightly +older than the other, was exceedingly winsome. + +"What's your name?" Pao-yue eagerly inquired. + +"I'm called Hui Hsiang, (orchid fragrance)," that waiting-maid rejoined +simperingly. + +"Who gave you this name?" Pao-yue went on to ask. + +"I went originally under the name of Yuen Hsiang (Gum Sandarac)," added +Hui Hsiang, "but Miss Hua it was who changed it." + +"You should really be called Hui Ch'i, (latent fragrance), that would be +proper; and why such stuff as Hui Hsiang, (orchid fragrance)?" + +"How many sisters have you got?" he further went on to ask of her. + +"Four," replied Hui Hsiang. + +"Which of them are you?" Pao-yue asked. + +"The fourth," answered Hui Hsiang. + +"By and by you must be called Ssu Erh, (fourth child)," Pao-yue +suggested, "for there's no need for any such nonsense as Hui Hsiang +(orchid fragrance) or Lan Ch'i (epidendrum perfume.) Which single girl +deserves to be compared to all these flowers, without profaning pretty +names and fine surnames!" + +As he uttered these words, he bade her give him some tea, which he +drank; while Hsi Jen and She Yueeh, who were in the outer apartment, had +been listening for a long time and laughing with compressed lips. + +Pao-yue did not, on this day, so much as put his foot outside the door of +his room, but sat all alone sad and dejected, simply taking up his +books, in order to dispel his melancholy fit, or diverting himself with +his writing materials; while he did not even avail himself of the +services of any of the family servants, but simply bade Ssu Erh answer +his calls. + +This Ssu Erh was, who would have thought it, a girl gifted with +matchless artfulness, and perceiving that Pao-yue had requisitioned her +services, she speedily began to devise extreme ways and means to +inveigle him. When evening came, and dinner was over, Pao-yue's eyes were +scorching hot and his ears burning from the effects of two cups of wine +that he had taken. Had it been in past days, he would have now had Hsi +Jen and her companions with him, and with all their good cheer and +laughter, he would have been enjoying himself. But here was he, on this +occasion, dull and forlorn, a solitary being, gazing at the lamp with an +absolute lack of pleasure. By and by he felt a certain wish to go after +them, but dreading that if they carried their point, they would, in the +future, come and tender advice still more immoderate, and that, were he +to put on the airs of a superior to intimidate them, he would appear to +be too deeply devoid of all feeling, he therefore, needless to say, +thwarted the wish of his heart, and treated them just as if they were +dead. And as anyway he was constrained also to live, alone though he +was, he readily looked upon them, for the time being as departed, and +did not worry his mind in the least on their account. On the contrary, +he was able to feel happy and contented with his own society. Hence it +was that bidding Ssu Erh trim the candles and brew the tea, he himself +perused for a time the "Nan Hua Ching," and upon reaching the precept: +"On thieves," given on some additional pages, the burden of which was: +"Therefore by exterminating intuitive wisdom, and by discarding +knowledge, highway robbers will cease to exist, and by taking off the +jade and by putting away the pearls, pilferers will not spring to +existence; by burning the slips and by breaking up the seals, by +smashing the measures, and snapping the scales, the result will be that +the people will not wrangle; by abrogating, to the utmost degree, wise +rules under the heavens, the people will, at length, be able to take +part in deliberation. By putting to confusion the musical scale, and +destroying fifes and lutes, by deafening the ears of the blind Kuang, +then, at last, will the human race in the world constrain his sense of +hearing. By extinguishing literary compositions, by dispersing the five +colours and by sticking the eyes of Li Chu, then, at length, mankind +under the whole sky, will restrain the perception of his eyes. By +destroying and eliminating the hooks and lines, by discarding the +compasses and squares, and by amputating Kung Chui's fingers, the human +race will ultimately succeed in constraining his ingenuity,"--his high +spirits, on perusal of this passage, were so exultant that taking +advantage of the exuberance caused by the wine, he picked up his pen, +for he could not repress himself, and continued the text in this wise: +"By burning the flower, (Hua-Hsi Jen) and dispersing the musk, (She +Yueeh), the consequence will be that the inmates of the inner chambers +will, eventually, keep advice to themselves. By obliterating Pao-ch'ai's +supernatural beauty, by reducing to ashes Tai-yue's spiritual perception, +and by destroying and extinguishing my affectionate preferences, the +beautiful in the inner chambers as well as the plain will then, at +length, be put on the same footing. And as they will keep advice to +themselves, there will be no fear of any disagreement. By obliterating +her supernatural beauty, I shall then have no incentive for any violent +affection; by dissolving her spiritual perception, I will have no +feelings with which to foster the memory of her talents. The hair-pin, +jade, flower and musk (Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yue, Hsi Jen and She Yueeh) do each +and all spread out their snares and dig mines, and thus succeed in +inveigling and entrapping every one in the world." + +At the conclusion of this annex, he flung the pen away, and lay himself +down to sleep. His head had barely reached the pillow before he at once +fell fast asleep, remaining the whole night long perfectly unconscious +of everything straight up to the break of day, when upon waking and +turning himself round, he, at a glance, caught sight of no one else than +Hsi Jen, sleeping in her clothes over the coverlet. + +Pao-yue had already banished from his mind every thought of what had +transpired the previous day, so that forthwith giving Hsi Jen a push: +"Get up!" he said, "and be careful where you sleep, as you may catch +cold." + +The fact is that Hsi Jen was aware that he was, without regard to day or +night, ever up to mischief with his female cousins; but presuming that +if she earnestly called him to account, he would not mend his ways, she +had, for this reason, had recourse to tender language to exhort him, in +the hope that, in a short while, he would come round again to his better +self. But against all her expectations Pao-yue had, after the lapse of a +whole day and night, not changed the least in his manner, and as she +really was in her heart quite at a loss what to do, she failed to find +throughout the whole night any proper sleep. But when on this day, she +unexpectedly perceived Pao-yue in this mood, she flattered herself that +he had made up his mind to effect a change, and readily thought it best +not to notice him. Pao-yue, seeing that she made no reply, forthwith +stretched out his hand and undid her jacket; but he had just unclasped +the button, when his arm was pushed away by Hsi Jen, who again made it +fast herself. + +Pao-yue was so much at his wit's ends that he had no alternative but to +take her hand and smilingly ask: "What's the matter with you, after all, +that I've had to ask you something time after time?" + +Hsi Jen opened her eyes wide. "There's nothing really the matter with +me!" she observed; "but as you're awake, you surely had better be going +over into the opposite room to comb your hair and wash; for if you +dilly-dally any longer, you won't be in time." + +"Where shall I go over to?" Pao-yue inquired. + +Hsi Jen gave a sarcastic grin. "Do you ask me?" she rejoined; "do I +know? you're at perfect liberty to go over wherever you like; from this +day forth you and I must part company so as to avoid fighting like cocks +or brawling like geese, to the amusement of third parties. Indeed, when +you get surfeited on that side, you come over to this, where there are, +after all, such girls as Fours and Fives (Ssu Erh and Wu Erh) to dance +attendance upon you. But such kind of things as ourselves uselessly +defile fine names and fine surnames." + +"Do you still remember this to-day!" Pao-yue asked with a smirk. + +"Hundred years hence I shall still bear it in mind," Hsi Jen protested; +"I'm not like you, who treat my words as so much wind blowing by the +side of your ears, that what I've said at night, you've forgotten early +in the morning." + +Pao-yue perceiving what a seductive though angry air pervaded her face +found it difficult to repress his feelings, and speedily taking up, from +the side of the pillow, a hair-pin made of jade, he dashed it down +breaking it into two exclaiming: "If I again don't listen to your words, +may I fare like this hair-pin." + +Hsi Jen immediately picked up the hair-pin, as she remarked: "What's up +with you at this early hour of the morning? Whether you listen or not is +of no consequence; and is it worth while that you should behave as you +do?" + +"How can you know," Pao-yue answered, "the anguish in my heart!" + +"Do you also know what anguish means?" Hsi Jen observed laughing; "if +you do, then you can judge what the state of my heart is! But be quick +and get up, and wash your face and be off!" + +As she spoke, they both got out of bed and performed their toilette; but +after Pao-yue had gone to the drawing rooms, and at a moment least +expected by any one, Tai-yue walked into his apartment. Noticing that +Pao-yue was not in, she was fumbling with the books on the table and +examining them, when, as luck would have it, she turned up the Chuang +Tzu of the previous day. Upon perusing the passage tagged on by Pao-yue, +she could not help feeling both incensed and amused. Nor could she +restrain herself from taking up the pen and appending a stanza to this +effect: + + Who is that man, who of his pen, without good rhyme, made use, + A toilsome task to do into the Chuang-tzu text to steal, + Who for the knowledge he doth lack no sense of shame doth feel, + But language vile and foul employs third parties to abuse? + +At the conclusion of what she had to write, she too came into the +drawing room; but after paying her respects to dowager lady Chia, she +walked over to madame Wang's quarters. + +Contrary to everybody's expectations, lady Feng's daughter, Ta Chieh +Erh, had fallen ill, and a great fuss was just going on as the doctor +had been sent for to diagnose her ailment. + +"My congratulations to you, ladies," the doctor explained; "this young +lady has fever, as she has small-pox; indeed it's no other complaint!" + +As soon as madame Wang and lady Feng heard the tidings, they lost no +time in sending round to ascertain whether she was getting on all right +or not, and the doctor replied: "The symptoms are, it is true, serious, +but favourable; but though after all importing no danger, it's necessary +to get ready the silkworms and pigs' tails." + +When lady Feng received this report, she, there and then, hastened to +make the necessary preparations, and while she had the rooms swept and +oblations offered to the goddess of small-pox, she, at the same time, +transmitted orders to her household to avoid viands fried or roasted in +fat, or other such heating things; and also bade P'ing Erh get ready the +bedding and clothes for Chia Lien in a separate room, and taking pieces +of deep red cotton material, she distributed them to the nurses, +waiting-maids and all the servants, who were in close attendance, to cut +out clothes for themselves. And having had likewise some apartments +outside swept clean, she detained two doctors to alternately deliberate +on the treatment, feel the pulse and administer the medicines; and for +twelve days, they were not at liberty to return to their homes; while +Chia Lien had no help but to move his quarters temporarily into the +outer library, and lady Feng and P'ing Erh remained both in daily +attendance upon madame Wang in her devotions to the goddess. + +Chia Lien, now that he was separated from lady Feng, soon felt disposed +to look round for a flame. He had only slept alone for a couple of +nights, but these nights had been so intensely intolerable that he had +no option than to choose, for the time being, from among the young +pages, those who were of handsome appearance, and bring them over to +relieve his monotony. In the Jung Kuo mansion, there was, it happened, a +cook, a most useless, good-for-nothing drunkard, whose name was To Kuan, +in whom people recognised an infirm and a useless husband so that they +all dubbed him with the name of To Hun Ch'ung, the stupid worm To. As +the wife given to him in marriage by his father and mother was this year +just twenty, and possessed further several traits of beauty, and was +also naturally of a flighty and frivolous disposition, she had an +extreme penchant for violent flirtations. But To Hun-ch'ung, on the +other hand, did not concern himself (with her deportment), and as long +as he had wine, meat and money he paid no heed whatever to anything. And +for this reason it was that all the men in the two mansions of Ning and +Jung had been successful in their attentions; and as this woman was +exceptionally fascinating and incomparably giddy, she was generally +known by all by the name To Ku Ning (Miss To). + +Chia Lien, now that he had his quarters outside, chafed under the pangs +of irksome ennui, yet he too, in days gone by, had set his eyes upon +this woman, and had for long, watered in the mouth with admiration; but +as, inside, he feared his winsome wife, and outside, he dreaded his +beloved lads, he had not made any advances. But this To Ku Niang had +likewise a liking for Chia Lien, and was full of resentment at the +absence of a favourable opportunity; but she had recently come to hear +that Chia Lien had shifted his quarters into the outer library, and her +wont was, even in the absence of any legitimate purpose, to go over +three and four times to entice him on; but though Chia Lien was, in +every respect, like a rat smitten with hunger, he could not dispense +with holding consultation with the young friends who enjoyed his +confidence; and as he struck a bargain with them for a large amount of +money and silks, how could they ever not have come to terms (with him to +speak on his behalf)? Besides, they were all old friends of this woman, +so that, as soon as they conveyed the proposal, she willingly accepted +it. When night came To Hun Ch'ung was lying on the couch in a state of +drunkenness, and at the second watch, when every one was quiet, Chia +Lien at once slipped in, and they had their assignation. As soon as he +gazed upon her face, he lost control over his senses, and without even +one word of ordinary greeting or commonplace remark, they forthwith, +fervently indulged in a most endearing tete-a-tete. + +This woman possessed, who could have thought it, a strange natural +charm; for, as soon as any one of her lovers came within any close +distance of her, he speedily could not but notice that her very tendons +and bones mollified, paralysed-like from feeling, so that his was the +sensation of basking in a soft bower of love. What is more, her +demonstrative ways and free-and-easy talk put even those of a born +coquette to shame, with the result that while Chia Lien, at this time, +longed to become heart and soul one with her, the woman designedly +indulged in immodest innuendoes. + +"Your daughter is at home," she insinuated in her recumbent position, +"ill with the small-pox, and prayers are being offered to the goddess; +and your duty too should be to abstain from love affairs for a couple of +days, but on the contrary, by flirting with me, you've contaminated +yourself! but, you'd better be off at once from me here!" + +"You're my goddess!" gaspingly protested Chia Lien, as he gave way to +demonstrativeness; "what do I care about any other goddess!" + +The woman began to be still more indelicate in her manner, so that Chia +Lien could not refrain himself from making a full exhibition of his warm +sentiments. When their tete-a-tete had come to a close, they both went +on again to vow by the mountains and swear by the seas, and though they +found it difficult to part company and hard to tear themselves away, +they, in due course, became, after this occasion, mutual sworn friends. +But by a certain day the virus in Ta Chieh's system had become +exhausted, and the spots subsided, and at the expiry of twelve days the +goddess was removed, and the whole household offered sacrifices to +heaven, worshipped the ancestors, paid their vows, burnt incense, +exchanged congratulations, and distributed presents. And these +formalities observed, Chia Lien once more moved back into his own +bedroom and was reunited with lady Feng. The proverb is indeed true +which says: "That a new marriage is not equal to a long separation," for +there ensued between them demonstrations of loving affection still more +numerous than heretofore, to which we need not, of course, refer with +any minuteness. + +The next day, at an early hour, after lady Feng had gone into the upper +rooms, P'ing Erh set to work to put in order the clothes and bedding, +which had been brought from outside, when, contrary to her expectation, +a tress of hair fell out from inside the pillow-case, as she was intent +upon shaking it. P'ing Erh understood its import, and taking at once the +hair, she concealed it in her sleeve, and there and then came over into +the room on this side, where she produced the hair, and smirkingly asked +Chia Lien, "What's this?" + +Chia Lien, at the sight of it, lost no time in making a snatch with the +idea of depriving her of it; and when P'ing Erh speedily endeavoured to +run away, she was clutched by Chia Lien, who put her down on the +stove-couch, and came up to take it from her hand. + +"You heartless fellow!" P'ing Erh laughingly exclaimed, "I conceal this, +with every good purpose, from her knowledge, and come to ask you about +it, and you, on the contrary, fly into a rage! But wait till she comes +back, and I'll tell her, and we'll see what will happen." + +At these words, Chia Lien hastily forced a smile. "Dear girl!" he +entreated, "give it to me, and I won't venture again to fly into a +passion." + +But hardly was this remark finished, when they heard the voice of lady +Feng penetrate into the room. As soon as it reached the ear of Chia +Lien, he was at a loss whether it was better to let her go or to snatch +it away, and kept on shouting, "My dear girl! don't let her know." + +P'ing Erh at once rose to her feet; but lady Feng had already entered +the room; and she went on to bid P'ing Erh be quick and open a box and +find a pattern for madame Wang. P'ing Erh expressed her obedience with +alacrity; but while in search of it, lady Feng caught sight of Chia +Lien; and suddenly remembering something, she hastened to ask P'ing Erh +about it. + +"The other day," she observed, "some things were taken out, and have you +brought them all in or not?" + +"I have!" P'ing Erh assented. + +"Is there anything short or not?" lady Feng inquired. + +"I've carefully looked at them," P'ing Erh added, "and haven't found +even one single thing short." + +"Is there anything in excess?" lady Feng went on to ascertain. + +P'ing Erh laughed. "It's enough," she rejoined, "that there's nothing +short; and how could there really turn out to be anything over and +above?" + +"That this half month," lady Feng continued still smiling, "things have +gone on immaculately it would be hard to vouch; for some intimate friend +there may have been, who possibly has left something behind, in the +shape of a ring, handkerchief or other such object, there's no saying +for certain!" + +While these words were being spoken, Chia Lien's face turned perfectly +sallow, and, as he stood behind lady Feng, he was intent upon gazing at +P'ing Erh, making signs to her (that he was going) to cut her throat as +a chicken is killed, (threatening her not to utter a sound) and +entreating her to screen him; but P'ing Erh pretended not to notice him, +and consequently observed smiling: "How is it that my ideas should +coincide with those of yours, my lady; and as I suspected that there may +have been something of the kind, I carefully searched all over, but I +didn't find even so much as the slightest thing wrong; and if you don't +believe me, my lady, you can search for your own self." + +"You fool!" lady Feng laughed, "had he any things of the sort, would he +be likely to let you and I discover them!" + +With these words still on her lips, she took the patterns and went her +way; whereupon P'ing Erh pointed at her nose, and shook her head to and +fro. "In this matter," she smiled, "how much you should be grateful to +me!" A remark which so delighted Chia Lien that his eyebrows distended, +and his eyes smiled, and running over, he clasped her in his embrace, +and called her promiscuously: "My darling, my pet, my own treasure!" + +"This," observed P'ing Erh, with the tress in her hand, "will be my +source of power, during all my lifetime! if you treat me kindly, then +well and good! but if you behave unkindly, then we'll at once produce +this thing!" + +"Do put it away, please," Chia Lien entreated smirkingly, "and don't, on +an any account, let her know about it!" and as he uttered these words, +he noticed that she was off her guard, and, with a snatch, readily +grabbed it adding laughingly: "In your hands, it would be a source of +woe, so that it's better that I should burn it, and have done with it!" +Saying this he simultaneously shoved it down the sides of his boot, +while P'ing Erh shouted as she set her teeth close: "You wicked man! you +cross the river and then demolish the bridge! but do you imagine that +I'll by and by again tell lies on your behalf!" + +Chia Lien perceiving how heart-stirring her seductive charms were, +forthwith clasped her in his arms, and begged her to be his; but P'ing +Erh snatched her hands out of his grasp and ran away out of the room; +which so exasperated Chia Lien that as he bent his body, he exclaimed, +full of indignation: "What a dreadful niggardly young wench! she +actually sets her mind to stir up people's affections with her wanton +blandishments, and then, after all, she runs away!" + +"If I be wanton, it's my own look-out;" P'ing Erh answered, from outside +the window, with a grin, "and who told you to arouse your affections? Do +you forsooth mean to imply that my wish is to become your tool? And did +she come to know about it would she again ever forgive me?" + +"You needn't dread her!" Chia Lien urged; "wait till my monkey is up, +and I'll take this jealous woman, and beat her to atoms; and she'll then +know what stuff I'm made of. She watches me just as she would watch a +thief! and she's only to hobnob with men, and I'm not to say a word to +any girl! and if I do say aught to a girl, or get anywhere near one, she +must at once give way to suspicion. But with no regard to younger +brothers or nephews, to young and old, she prattles and giggles with +them, and doesn't entertain any fear that I may be jealous; but +henceforward I too won't allow her to set eyes upon any man." + +"If she be jealous, there's every reason," P'ing Erh answered, "but for +you to be jealous on her account isn't right. Her conduct is really +straightforward, and her deportment upright, but your conduct is +actuated by an evil heart, so much so that even I don't feel my heart at +ease, not to say anything of her." + +"You two," continued Chia Lien, "have a mouth full of malicious breath! +Everything the couple of you do is invariably proper, while whatever I +do is all from an evil heart! But some time or other I shall bring you +both to your end with my own hands!" + +This sentence was scarcely at an end, when lady Feng walked into the +court. "If you're bent upon chatting," she urgently inquired, upon +seeing P'ing Erh outside the window, "why don't you go into the room? +and what do you mean, instead, by running out, and speaking with the +window between?" + +Chia Lien from inside took up the string of the conversation. "You +should ask her," he said. "It would verily seem as if there were a tiger +in the room to eat her up." + +"There's not a single person in the room," P'ing Erh rejoined, "and what +shall I stay and do with him?" + +"It's just the proper thing that there should be no one else! Isn't it?" +lady Feng remarked grinning sarcastically. + +"Do these words allude to me?" P'ing Erh hastily asked, as soon as she +had heard what she said. + +Lady Feng forthwith laughed. "If they don't allude to you," she +continued, "to whom do they?" + +"Don't press me to come out with some nice things!" P'ing Erh +insinuated, and, as she spoke, she did not even raise the portiere (for +lady Feng to enter), but straightway betook herself to the opposite +side. + +Lady Feng lifted the portiere with her own hands, and walked into the +room. "That girl P'ing Erh," she exclaimed, "has gone mad, and if this +hussey does in real earnest wish to try and get the upper hand of me, it +would be well for you to mind your skin." + +Chia Lien listened to her, as he kept reclining on the couch. "I never +in the least knew," he ventured, clapping his hands and laughing, "that +P'ing Erh was so dreadful; and I must, after all, from henceforth look +up to her with respect!" + +"It's all through your humouring her," lady Feng rejoined; "so I'll +simply settle scores with you and finish with it." + +"Ts'ui!" ejaculated Chia Lien at these words, "because you two can't +agree, must you again make a scapegoat of me! Well then, I'll get out of +the way of both of you!" + +"I'll see where you'll go and hide," lady Feng observed. + +"I've got somewhere to go!" Chia Lien added; and with these words, he +was about to go, when lady Feng urged: "Don't be off! I have something +to tell you." + +What it is, is not yet known, but, reader, listen to the account given +in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + Upon hearing the text of the stanza, Pao-yue comprehends the Buddhistic + spells. + While the enigmas for the lanterns are being devised, Chia Cheng is + grieved by a prognostic. + + +Chia Lien, for we must now prosecute our story, upon hearing lady Feng +observe that she had something to consult about with him, felt +constrained to halt and to inquire what it was about. + +"On the 21st," lady Feng explained, "is cousin Hsueeh's birthday, and +what do you, after all, purpose doing?" + +"Do I know what to do?" exclaimed Chia Lien; "you have made, time and +again, arrangements for ever so many birthdays of grown-up people, and +do you, really, find yourself on this occasion without any resources?" + +"Birthdays of grown-up people are subject to prescribed rules," lady +Feng expostulated; "but her present birthday is neither one of an adult +nor that of an infant, and that's why I would like to deliberate with +you!" + +Chia Lien upon hearing this remark, lowered his head and gave himself to +protracted reflection. "You're indeed grown dull!" he cried; "why you've +a precedent ready at hand to suit your case! Cousin Lin's birthday +affords a precedent, and what you did in former years for cousin Lin, +you can in this instance likewise do for cousin Hsueeh, and it will be +all right." + +At these words lady Feng gave a sarcastic smile. "Do you, pray, mean to +insinuate," she added, "that I'm not aware of even this! I too had +previously come, after some thought, to this conclusion; but old lady +Chia explained, in my hearing yesterday, that having made inquiries +about all their ages and their birthdays, she learnt that cousin Hsueeh +would this year be fifteen, and that though this was not the birthday, +which made her of age, she could anyhow well be regarded as being on the +dawn of the year, in which she would gather up her hair, so that our +dowager lady enjoined that her anniversary should, as a matter of +course, be celebrated, unlike that of cousin Lin." + +"Well, in that case," Chia Lien suggested, "you had better make a few +additions to what was done for cousin Lin!" + +"That's what I too am thinking of," lady Feng replied, "and that's why +I'm asking your views; for were I, on my own hook, to add anything you +would again feel hurt for my not have explained things to you." + +"That will do, that will do!" Chia Lien rejoined laughing, "none of +these sham attentions for me! So long as you don't pry into my doings it +will be enough; and will I go so far as to bear you a grudge?" + +With these words still in his mouth, he forthwith went off. But leaving +him alone we shall now return to Shih Hsiang-yuen. After a stay of a +couple of days, her intention was to go back, but dowager lady Chia +said: "Wait until after you have seen the theatrical performance, when +you can return home." + +At this proposal, Shih Hsiang-yuen felt constrained to remain, but she, +at the same time, despatched a servant to her home to fetch two pieces +of needlework, which she had in former days worked with her own hands, +for a birthday present for Pao-ch'ai. + +Contrary to all expectations old lady Chia had, since the arrival of +Pao-ch'ai, taken quite a fancy to her, for her sedateness and good +nature, and as this happened to be the first birthday which she was +about to celebrate (in the family) she herself readily contributed +twenty taels which, after sending for lady Feng, she handed over to her, +to make arrangements for a banquet and performance. + +"A venerable senior like yourself," lady Feng thereupon smiled and +ventured, with a view to enhancing her good cheer, "is at liberty to +celebrate the birthday of a child in any way agreeable to you, without +any one presuming to raise any objection; but what's the use again of +giving a banquet? But since it be your good pleasure and your purpose to +have it celebrated with eclat, you could, needless to say, your own self +have spent several taels from the private funds in that old treasury of +yours! But you now produce those twenty taels, spoiled by damp and +mould, to play the hostess with, with the view indeed of compelling us +to supply what's wanted! But hadn't you really been able to contribute +any more, no one would have a word to say; but the gold and silver, +round as well as flat, have with their heavy weight pressed down the +bottom of the box! and your sole object is to harass us and to extort +from us. But raise your eyes and look about you; who isn't your +venerable ladyship's son and daughter? and is it likely, pray, that in +the future there will only be cousin Pao-yue to carry you, our old lady, +on his head, up the Wu T'ai Shan? You may keep all these things for him +alone! but though we mayn't at present, deserve that anything should be +spent upon us, you shouldn't go so far as to place us in any +perplexities (by compelling us to subscribe). And is this now enough for +wines, and enough for the theatricals?" + +As she bandied these words, every one in the whole room burst out +laughing, and even dowager lady Chia broke out in laughter while she +observed: "Do you listen to that mouth? I myself am looked upon as +having the gift of the gab, but why is it that I can't talk in such a +wise as to put down this monkey? Your mother-in-law herself doesn't dare +to be so overbearing in her speech; and here you are jabber, jabber with +me!" + +"My mother-in-law," explained lady Feng, "is also as fond of Pao-yue as +you are, so much so that I haven't anywhere I could go and give vent to +my grievances; and instead of (showing me some regard) you say that I'm +overbearing in my speech!" + +With these words, she again enticed dowager lady Chia to laugh for a +while. The old lady continued in the highest of spirits, and, when +evening came, and they all appeared in her presence to pay their +obeisance, her ladyship made it a point, while the whole company of +ladies and young ladies were engaged in chatting, to ascertain of +Pao-ch'ai what play she liked to hear, and what things she fancied to +eat. + +Pao-ch'ai was well aware that dowager lady Chia, well up in years though +she was, delighted in sensational performances, and was partial to sweet +and tender viands, so that she readily deferred, in every respect, to +those things, which were to the taste of her ladyship, and enumerated a +whole number of them, which made the old lady become the more exuberant. +And the next day, she was the first to send over clothes, nicknacks and +such presents, while madame Wang and lady Feng, Tai-yue and the other +girls, as well as the whole number of inmates had all presents for her, +regulated by their degree of relationship, to which we need not allude +in detail. + +When the 21st arrived, a stage of an ordinary kind, small but yet handy, +was improvised in dowager lady Chia's inner court, and a troupe of young +actors, who had newly made their debut, was retained for the nonce, +among whom were both those who could sing tunes, slow as well as fast. +In the drawing rooms of the old lady were then laid out several tables +for a family banquet and entertainment, at which there was not a single +outside guest; and with the exception of Mrs. Hsueeh, Shih Hsiang-yuen, +and Pao-ch'ai, who were visitors, the rest were all inmates of her +household. + +On this day, Pao-yue failed, at any early hour, to see anything of Lin +Tai-yue, and coming at once to her rooms in search of her, he discovered +her reclining on the stove-couch. "Get up," Pao-yue pressed her with a +smile, "and come and have breakfast, for the plays will commence +shortly; but whichever plays you would like to listen to, do tell me so +that I may be able to choose them." + +Tai-yue smiled sarcastically. "In that case," she rejoined, "you had +better specially engage a troupe and select those I like sung for my +benefit; for on this occasion you can't be so impertinent as to make use +of their expense to ask me what I like!" + +"What's there impossible about this?" Pao-yue answered smiling; "well, +to-morrow I'll readily do as you wish, and ask them too to make use of +what is yours and mine." + +As he passed this remark, he pulled her up, and taking her hand in his +own, they walked out of the room and came and had breakfast. When the +time arrived to make a selection of the plays, dowager lady Chia of her +own motion first asked Pao-ch'ai to mark off those she liked; and though +for a time Pao-ch'ai declined, yielding the choice to others, she had no +alternative but to decide, fixing upon a play called, "the Record of the +Western Tour," a play of which the old lady was herself very fond. Next +in order, she bade lady Feng choose, and lady Feng, had, after all, in +spite of madame Wang ranking before her in precedence, to consider old +lady Chia's request, and not to presume to show obstinacy by any +disobedience. But as she knew well enough that her ladyship had a +penchant for what was exciting, and that she was still more partial to +jests, jokes, epigrams, and buffoonery, she therefore hastened to +precede (madame Wang) and to choose a play, which was in fact no other +than "Liu Erh pawns his clothes." + +Dowager lady Chia was, of course, still more elated. And after this she +speedily went on to ask Tai-yue to choose. Tai-yue likewise concedingly +yielded her turn in favour of madame Wang and the other seniors, to make +their selections before her, but the old lady expostulated. "To-day," +she said, "is primarily an occasion, on which I've brought all of you +here for your special recreation; and we had better look after our own +selves and not heed them! For have I, do you imagine, gone to the +trouble of having a performance and laying a feast for their special +benefit? they're already reaping benefit enough by being in here, +listening to the plays and partaking of the banquet, when they have no +right to either; and are they to be pressed further to make a choice of +plays?" + +At these words, the whole company had a hearty laugh; after which, +Tai-yue, at length, marked off a play; next in order following Pao-yue, +Shih Hsiang-yuen, Ying-ch'un, T'an Ch'un, Hsi Ch'un, widow Li Wan, and +the rest, each and all of whom made a choice of plays, which were sung +in the costumes necessary for each. When the time came to take their +places at the banquet, dowager lady Chia bade Pao-ch'ai make another +selection, and Pao-ch'ai cast her choice upon the play: "Lu Chih-shen, +in a fit of drunkenness stirs up a disturbance up the Wu T'ai mountain;" +whereupon Pao-yue interposed, with the remark: "All you fancy is to +choose plays of this kind;" to which Pao-ch'ai rejoined, "You've +listened to plays all these years to no avail! How could you know the +beauties of this play? the stage effect is grand, but what is still +better are the apt and elegant passages in it." + +"I've always had a dread of such sensational plays as these!" Pao-yue +retorted. + +"If you call this play sensational," Pao-ch'ai smilingly expostulated, +"well then you may fitly be looked upon as being no connoisseur of +plays. But come over and I'll tell you. This play constitutes one of a +set of books, entitled the 'Pei Tien Peng Ch'un,' which, as far as +harmony, musical rests and closes, and tune go, is, it goes without +saying, perfect; but there's among the elegant compositions a ballad +entitled: 'the Parasitic Plant,' written in a most excellent style; but +how could you know anything about it?" + +Pao-yue, upon hearing her speak of such points of beauty, hastily drew +near to her. "My dear cousin," he entreated, "recite it and let me hear +it!" Whereupon Pao-ch'ai went on as follows: + + My manly tears I will not wipe away, + But from this place, the scholar's home, I'll stray. + The bonze for mercy I shall thank; under the lotus altar shave my + pate; + With Yuean to be the luck I lack; soon in a twinkle we shall separate, + And needy and forlorn I'll come and go, with none to care about my + fate. + Thither shall I a suppliant be for a fog wrapper and rain hat; my + warrant I shall roll, + And listless with straw shoes and broken bowl, wherever to convert my + fate may be, I'll stroll. + +As soon as Pao-yue had listened to her recital, he was so full of +enthusiasm, that, clapping his knees with his hands, and shaking his +head, he gave vent to incessant praise; after which he went on to extol +Pao-ch'ai, saying: "There's no book that you don't know." + +"Be quiet, and listen to the play," Lin Tai-yue urged; "they haven't yet +sung about the mountain gate, and you already pretend to be mad!" + +At these words, Hsiang-yuen also laughed. But, in due course, the whole +party watched the performance until evening, when they broke up. Dowager +lady Chia was so very much taken with the young actor, who played the +role of a lady, as well as with the one who acted the buffoon, that she +gave orders that they should be brought in; and, as she looked at them +closely, she felt so much the more interest in them, that she went on to +inquire what their ages were. And when the would-be lady (replied) that +he was just eleven, while the would-be buffoon (explained) that he was +just nine, the whole company gave vent for a time to expressions of +sympathy with their lot; while dowager lady Chia bade servants bring a +fresh supply of meats and fruits for both of them, and also gave them, +besides their wages, two tiaos as a present. + +"This lad," lady Feng observed smiling, "is when dressed up (as a girl), +a living likeness of a certain person; did you notice it just now?" + +Pao-ch'ai was also aware of the fact, but she simply nodded her head +assentingly and did not say who it was. Pao-yue likewise expressed his +assent by shaking his head, but he too did not presume to speak out. +Shih Hsiang-yuen, however, readily took up the conversation. "He +resembles," she interposed, "cousin Lin's face!" When this remark +reached Pao-yue's ear, he hastened to cast an angry scowl at Hsiang-yuen, +and to make her a sign; while the whole party, upon hearing what had +been said, indulged in careful and minute scrutiny of (the lad); and as +they all began to laugh: "The resemblance is indeed striking!" they +exclaimed. + +After a while, they parted; and when evening came Hsiang-yuen directed +Ts'ui Lue to pack up her clothes. + +"What's the hurry?" Ts'ui Lue asked. "There will be ample time to pack +up, on the day on which we go!" + +"We'll go to-morrow," Hsiang-yuen rejoined; "for what's the use of +remaining here any longer--to look at people's mouths and faces?" + +Pao-yue, at these words, lost no time in pressing forward. + +"My dear cousin," he urged; "you're wrong in bearing me a grudge! My +cousin Lin is a girl so very touchy, that though every one else +distinctly knew (of the resemblance), they wouldn't speak out; and all +because they were afraid that she would get angry; but unexpectedly out +you came with it, at a moment when off your guard; and how ever couldn't +she but feel hurt? and it's because I was in dread that you would give +offence to people that I then winked at you; and now here you are angry +with me; but isn't that being ungrateful to me? Had it been any one +else, would I have cared whether she had given offence to even ten; that +would have been none of my business!" + +Hsiang-yuen waved her hand: "Don't," she added, "come and tell me these +flowery words and this specious talk, for I really can't come up to your +cousin Lin. If others poke fun at her, they all do so with impunity, +while if I say anything, I at once incur blame. The fact is I shouldn't +have spoken of her, undeserving as I am; and as she's the daughter of a +master, while I'm a slave, a mere servant girl, I've heaped insult upon +her!" + +"And yet," pleaded Pao-yue, full of perplexity, "I had done it for your +sake; and through this, I've come in for reproach. But if it were with +an evil heart I did so, may I at once become ashes, and be trampled upon +by ten thousands of people!" + +"In this felicitous firstmonth," Hsiang-yuen remonstrated, "you shouldn't +talk so much reckless nonsense! All these worthless despicable oaths, +disjointed words, and corrupt language, go and tell for the benefit of +those mean sort of people, who in everything take pleasure in irritating +others, and who keep you under their thumb! But mind don't drive me to +spit contemptuously at you." + +As she gave utterance to these words, she betook herself in the inner +room of dowager lady Chia's suite of apartments, where she lay down in +high dudgeon, and, as Pao-yue was so heavy at heart, he could not help +coming again in search of Tai-yue; but strange to say, as soon as he put +his foot inside the doorway, he was speedily hustled out of it by +Tai-yue, who shut the door in his face. + +Pao-yue was once more unable to fathom her motives, and as he stood +outside the window, he kept on calling out: "My dear cousin," in a low +tone of voice; but Tai-yue paid not the slightest notice to him so that +Pao-yue became so melancholy that he drooped his head, and was plunged in +silence. And though Hsi Jen had, at an early hour, come to know the +circumstances, she could not very well at this juncture tender any +advice. + +Pao-yue remained standing in such a vacant mood that Tai-yue imagined that +he had gone back; but when she came to open the door she caught sight of +Pao-yue still waiting in there; and as Tai-yue did not feel justified to +again close the door, Pao-yue consequently followed her in. + +"Every thing has," he observed, "a why and a wherefore; which, when +spoken out, don't even give people pain; but you will rush into a rage, +and all without any rhyme! but to what really does it owe its rise?" + +"It's well enough, after all, for you to ask me," Tai-yue rejoined with +an indifferent smile, "but I myself don't know why! But am I here to +afford you people amusement that you will compare me to an actress, and +make the whole lot have a laugh at me?" + +"I never did liken you to anything," Pao-yue protested, "neither did I +ever laugh at you! and why then will you get angry with me?" + +"Was it necessary that you should have done so much as made the +comparison," Tai-yue urged, "and was there any need of even any laughter +from you? why, though you mayn't have likened me to anything, or had a +laugh at my expense, you were, yea more dreadful than those who did +compare me (to a singing girl) and ridiculed me!" + +Pao-yue could not find anything with which to refute the argument he had +just heard, and Tai-yue went on to say. "This offence can, anyhow, be +condoned; but, what is more, why did you also wink at Yuen Erh? What was +this idea which you had resolved in your mind? wasn't it perhaps that if +she played with me, she would be demeaning herself, and making herself +cheap? She's the daughter of a duke or a marquis, and we forsooth the +mean progeny of a poor plebeian family; so that, had she diverted +herself with me, wouldn't she have exposed herself to being depreciated, +had I, perchance, said anything in retaliation? This was your idea +wasn't it? But though your purpose was, to be sure, honest enough, that +girl wouldn't, however, receive any favours from you, but got angry with +you just as much as I did; and though she made me also a tool to do you +a good turn, she, on the contrary, asserts that I'm mean by nature and +take pleasure in irritating people in everything! and you again were +afraid lest she should have hurt my feelings, but, had I had a row with +her, what would that have been to you? and had she given me any offence, +what concern would that too have been of yours?" + +When Pao-yue heard these words, he at once became alive to the fact that +she too had lent an ear to the private conversation he had had a short +while back with Hsiang-yuen: "All because of my, fears," he carefully +mused within himself, "lest these two should have a misunderstanding, I +was induced to come between them, and act as a mediator; but I myself +have, contrary to my hopes, incurred blame and abuse on both sides! This +just accords with what I read the other day in the Nan Hua Ching. 'The +ingenious toil, the wise are full of care; the good-for-nothing seek for +nothing, they feed on vegetables, and roam where they list; they wander +purposeless like a boat not made fast!' 'The mountain trees,' the text +goes on to say, 'lead to their own devastation; the spring (conduces) to +its own plunder; and so on." And the more he therefore indulged in +reflection, the more depressed he felt. "Now there are only these few +girls," he proceeded to ponder minutely, "and yet, I'm unable to treat +them in such a way as to promote perfect harmony; and what will I +forsooth do by and by (when there will be more to deal with)!" + +When he had reached this point in his cogitations, (he decided) that it +was really of no avail to agree with her, so that turning round, he was +making his way all alone into his apartments; but Lin Tai-yue, upon +noticing that he had left her side, readily concluded that reflection +had marred his spirits and that he had so thoroughly lost his temper as +to be going without even giving vent to a single word, and she could not +restrain herself from feeling inwardly more and more irritated. "After +you've gone this time," she hastily exclaimed, "don't come again, even +for a whole lifetime; and I won't have you either so much as speak to +me!" + +Pao-yue paid no heed to her, but came back to his rooms, and laying +himself down on his bed, he kept on muttering in a state of chagrin; and +though Hsi Jen knew full well the reasons of his dejection, she found it +difficult to summon up courage to say anything to him at the moment, and +she had no alternative but to try and distract him by means of +irrelevant matters. "The theatricals which you've seen to-day," she +consequently observed smiling, "will again lead to performances for +several days, and Miss Pao-ch'ai will, I'm sure, give a return feast." + +"Whether she gives a return feast or not," Pao-yue rejoined with an +apathetic smirk, "is no concern of mine!" + +When Hsi Jen perceived the tone, so unlike that of other days, with +which these words were pronounced: "What's this that you're saying?" she +therefore remarked as she gave another smile. "In this pleasant and +propitious first moon, when all the ladies and young ladies are in high +glee, how is it that you're again in a mood of this sort?" + +"Whether the ladies and my cousins be in high spirits or not," Pao-yue +replied forcing a grin, "is also perfectly immaterial to me." + +"They are all," Hsi Jen added, smilingly, "pleasant and agreeable, and +were you also a little pleasant and agreeable, wouldn't it conduce to +the enjoyment of the whole company?" + +"What about the whole company, and they and I?" Pao-yue urged. "They all +have their mutual friendships; while I, poor fellow, all forlorn, have +none to care a rap for me." + +His remarks had reached this clause, when inadvertently the tears +trickled down; and Hsi Jen realising the state of mind he was in, did +not venture to say anything further. But as soon as Pao-yue had reflected +minutely over the sense and import of this sentence, he could not +refrain from bursting forth into a loud fit of crying, and, turning +himself round, he stood up, and, drawing near the table, he took up the +pencil, and eagerly composed these enigmatical lines: + + If thou wert me to test, and I were thee to test, + Our hearts were we to test, and our minds to test, + When naught more there remains for us to test + That will yea very well be called a test, + And when there's naught to put, we could say, to the test, + We will a place set up on which our feet to rest. + +After he had finished writing, he again gave way to fears that though he +himself could unfold their meaning, others, who came to peruse these +lines, would not be able to fathom them, and he also went on +consequently to indite another stanza, in imitation of the "Parasitic +Plant," which he inscribed at the close of the enigma; and when he had +read it over a second time, he felt his heart so free of all concern +that forthwith he got into his bed, and went to sleep. + +But, who would have thought it, Tai-yue, upon seeing Pao-yue take his +departure in such an abrupt manner, designedly made use of the excuse +that she was bent upon finding Hsi Jen, to come round and see what he +was up to. + +"He's gone to sleep long ago!" Hsi Jen replied. + +At these words, Tai-yue felt inclined to betake herself back at once; but +Hsi Jen smiled and said: "Please stop, miss. Here's a slip of paper, and +see what there is on it!" and speedily taking what Pao-yue had written a +short while back, she handed it over to Tai-yue to examine. Tai-yue, on +perusal, discovered that Pao-yue had composed it, at the spur of the +moment, when under the influence of resentment; and she could not help +thinking it both a matter of ridicule as well as of regret; but she +hastily explained to Hsi Jen: "This is written for fun, and there's +nothing of any consequence in it!" and having concluded this remark, she +readily took it along with her to her room, where she conned it over in +company with Hsiang-yuen; handing it also the next day to Pao-ch'ai to +peruse. The burden of what Pao-ch'ai read was: + + In what was no concern of mine, I should to thee have paid no heed, + For while I humour this, that one to please I don't succeed! + Act as thy wish may be! go, come whene'er thou list; 'tis naught to + me. + Sorrow or joy, without limit or bound, to indulge thou art free! + What is this hazy notion about relatives distant or close? + For what purpose have I for all these days racked my heart with woes? + Even at this time when I look back and think, my mind no pleasure + knows. + +After having finished its perusal, she went on to glance at the +Buddhistic stanza, and smiling: "This being," she soliloquised; "has +awakened to a sense of perception; and all through my fault, for it's +that ballad of mine yesterday which has incited this! But the subtle +devices in all these rationalistic books have a most easy tendency to +unsettle the natural disposition, and if to-morrow he does actually get +up, and talk a lot of insane trash, won't his having fostered this idea +owe its origin to that ballad of mine; and shan't I have become the +prime of all guilty people?" + +Saying this, she promptly tore the paper, and, delivering the pieces to +the servant girls, she bade them go at once and burn them. + +"You shouldn't have torn it!" Tai-yue remonstrated laughingly. "But wait +and I'll ask him about it! so come along all of you, and I vouch I'll +make him abandon that idiotic frame of mind and that depraved language." + +The three of them crossed over, in point of fact, into Pao-yue's room, +and Tai-yue was the first to smile and observe. "Pao-yue, may I ask you +something? What is most valuable is a precious thing; and what is most +firm is jade, but what value do you possess and what firmness is innate +in you?" + +But as Pao-yue could not, say anything by way of reply, two of them +remarked sneeringly: "With all this doltish bluntness of his will he +after all absorb himself in abstraction?" While Hsiang-yuen also clapped +her hands and laughed, "Cousin Pao has been discomfited." + +"The latter part of that apothegm of yours," Tai-yue continued, "says: + + "We would then find some place on which our feet to rest. + +"Which is certainly good; but in my view, its excellence is not as yet +complete! and I should still tag on two lines at its close;" as she +proceeded to recite: + + "If we do not set up some place on which our feet to rest, + For peace and freedom then it will be best." + +"There should, in very truth, be this adjunct to make it thoroughly +explicit!" Pao-ch'ai added. "In days of yore, the sixth founder of the +Southern sect, Hui Neng, came, when he went first in search of his +patron, in the Shao Chou district; and upon hearing that the fifth +founder, Hung Jen, was at Huang Mei, he readily entered his service in +the capacity of Buddhist cook; and when the fifth founder, prompted by a +wish to select a Buddhistic successor, bade his neophytes and all the +bonzes to each compose an enigmatical stanza, the one who occupied the +upper seat, Shen Hsiu, recited: + + "A P'u T'i tree the body is, the heart so like a stand of mirror + bright, + On which must needs, by constant careful rubbing, not be left dust to + alight! + +"And Hui Neng, who was at this time in the cook-house pounding rice, +overheard this enigma. 'Excellent, it is excellent,' he ventured, 'but +as far as completeness goes it isn't complete;' and having bethought +himself of an apothegm: 'The P'u T'i, (an expression for Buddha or +intelligence),' he proceeded, 'is really no tree; and the resplendent +mirror, (Buddhistic term for heart), is likewise no stand; and as, in +fact, they do not constitute any tangible objects, how could they be +contaminated by particles of dust?' Whereupon the fifth founder at once +took his robe and clap-dish and handed them to him. Well, the text now +of this enigma presents too this identical idea, for the simple fact is +that those lines full of subtleties of a short while back are not, as +yet, perfected or brought to an issue, and do you forsooth readily give +up the task in this manner?" + +"He hasn't been able to make any reply," Tai-yue rejoined sneeringly, +"and must therefore be held to be discomfited; but were he even to make +suitable answer now, there would be nothing out of the common about it! +Anyhow, from this time forth you mustn't talk about Buddhistic spells, +for what even we two know and are able to do, you don't as yet know and +can't do; and do you go and concern yourself with abstraction?" + +Pao-yue had, in his own mind, been under the impression that he had +attained perception, but when he was unawares and all of a sudden +subjected to this question by Tai-yue, he soon found it beyond his power +to give any ready answer. And when Pao-ch'ai furthermore came out with a +religious disquisition, by way of illustration, and this on subjects, in +all of which he had hitherto not seen them display any ability, he +communed within himself: "If with their knowledge, which is indeed in +advance of that of mine, they haven't, as yet, attained perception, what +need is there for me now to bring upon myself labour and vexation?" + +"Who has, pray," he hastily inquired smilingly, after arriving at the +end of his reflections, "indulged in Buddhistic mysteries? what I did +amounts to nothing more than nonsensical trash, written, at the spur of +the moment, and nothing else." + +At the close of this remark all four came to be again on the same terms +as of old; but suddenly a servant announced that the Empress (Yuean +Ch'un) had despatched a messenger to bring over a lantern-conundrum with +the directions that they should all go and guess it, and that after they +had found it out, they should each also devise one and send it in. At +these words, the four of them left the room with hasty step, and +adjourned into dowager lady Chia's drawing room, where they discovered a +young eunuch, holding a four-cornered, flat-topped lantern, of white +gauze, which had been specially fabricated for lantern riddles. On the +front side, there was already a conundrum, and the whole company were +vying with each other in looking at it and making wild guesses; when the +young eunuch went on to transmit his orders, saying: "Young ladies, you +should not speak out when you are guessing; but each one of you should +secretly write down the solutions for me to wrap them up, and take them +all in together to await her Majesty's personal inspection as to whether +they be correct or not." + +Upon listening to these words, Pao-ch'ai drew near, and perceived at a +glance, that it consisted of a stanza of four lines, with seven +characters in each; but though there was no novelty or remarkable +feature about it, she felt constrained to outwardly give utterance to +words of praise. "It's hard to guess!" she simply added, while she +pretended to be plunged in thought, for the fact is that as soon as she +had cast her eye upon it, she had at once solved it. Pao-yue, Tai-yue, +Hsiang-yuen, and T'an-ch'un, had all four also hit upon the answer, and +each had secretly put it in writing; and Chia Huan, Chia Lan and the +others were at the same time sent for, and every one of them set to work +to exert the energies of his mind, and, when they arrived at a guess, +they noted it down on paper; after which every individual member of the +family made a choice of some object, and composed a riddle, which was +transcribed in a large round hand, and affixed on the lantern. This +done, the eunuch took his departure, and when evening drew near, he came +out and delivered the commands of the imperial consort. "The conundrum," +he said, "written by Her Highness, the other day, has been solved by +every one, with the exception of Miss Secunda and master Tertius, who +made a wrong guess. Those composed by you, young ladies, have likewise +all been guessed; but Her Majesty does not know whether her solutions +are right or not." While speaking, he again produced the riddles, which +had been written by them, among which were those which had been solved, +as well as those which had not been solved; and the eunuch, in like +manner, took the presents, conferred by the imperial consort, and handed +them over to those who had guessed right. To each person was assigned a +bamboo vase, inscribed with verses, which had been manufactured for +palace use, as well as articles of bamboo for tea; with the exception of +Ying-ch'un and Chia Huan, who were the only two persons who did not +receive any. But as Ying-ch'un looked upon the whole thing as a joke and +a trifle, she did not trouble her mind on that score, but Chia Huan at +once felt very disconsolate. + +"This one devised by Mr. Tertius," the eunuch was further heard to say, +"is not properly done; and as Her Majesty herself has been unable to +guess it she commanded me to bring it back, and ask Mr. Tertius what it +is about." + +After the party had listened to these words, they all pressed forward to +see what had been written. The burden of it was this: + + The elder brother has horns only eight; + The second brother has horns only two; + The elder brother on the bed doth sit; + Inside the room the second likes to squat. + +After perusal of these lines, they broke out, with one voice, into a +loud fit of laughter; and Chia Huan had to explain to the eunuch that +the one was a pillow, and the other the head of an animal. Having +committed the explanation to memory and accepted a cup of tea, the +eunuch took his departure; and old lady Chia, noticing in what buoyant +spirits Yuean Ch'un was, felt herself so much the more elated, that +issuing forthwith directions to devise, with every despatch, a small but +ingenious lantern of fine texture in the shape of a screen, and put it +in the Hall, she bade each of her grandchildren secretly compose a +conundrum, copy it out clean, and affix it on the frame of the lantern; +and she had subsequently scented tea and fine fruits, as well as every +kind of nicknacks, got ready, as prizes for those who guessed right. + +And when Chia Cheng came from court and found the old lady in such high +glee he also came over in the evening, as the season was furthermore +holiday time, to avail himself of her good cheer to reap some enjoyment. +In the upper part of the room seated themselves, at one table dowager +lady Chia, Chia Cheng, and Pao-yue; madame Wang, Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yue, +Hsiang-yuen sat round another table, and Ying-ch'un, Tan-ch'un and Hsi +Ch'un the three of them, occupied a separate table, and both these +tables were laid in the lower part, while below, all over the floor, +stood matrons and waiting-maids for Li Kung-ts'ai and Hsi-feng were both +seated in the inner section of the Hall, at another table. + +Chia Chen failed to see Chia Lan, and he therefore inquired: "How is it +I don't see brother Lan," whereupon the female servants, standing below, +hastily entered the inner room and made inquiries of widow Li. "He +says," Mrs. Li stood up and rejoined with a smile, "that as your master +didn't go just then to ask him round, he has no wish to come!" and when +a matron delivered the reply to Chia Cheng; the whole company exclaimed +much amused: "How obstinate and perverse his natural disposition is!" +But Chia Cheng lost no time in sending Chia Huan, together with two +matrons, to fetch Chia Lan; and, on his arrival, dowager lady Chia bade +him sit by her side, and, taking a handful of fruits, she gave them to +him to eat; after which the party chatted, laughed, and enjoyed +themselves. + +Ordinarily, there was no one but Pao-yue to say much or talk at any +length, but on this day, with Chia Cheng present, his remarks were +limited to assents. And as to the rest, Hsiang-yuen had, though a young +girl, and of delicate physique, nevertheless ever been very fond of +talking and discussing; but, on this instance, Chia Cheng was at the +feast, so that she also held her tongue and restrained her words. As for +Tai-yue she was naturally peevish and listless, and not very much +inclined to indulge in conversation; while Pao-ch'ai, who had never been +reckless in her words or frivolous in her deportment, likewise behaved +on the present occasion in her usual dignified manner. Hence it was that +this banquet, although a family party, given for the sake of relaxation, +assumed contrariwise an appearance of restraint, and as old lady Chia +was herself too well aware that it was to be ascribed to the presence of +Chia Cheng alone, she therefore, after the wine had gone round three +times, forthwith hurried off Chia Cheng to retire to rest. + +No less cognisant was Chia Cheng himself that the old lady's motives in +packing him off were to afford a favourable opportunity to the young +ladies and young men to enjoy themselves, and that is why, forcing a +smile, he observed: "Having to-day heard that your venerable ladyship +had got up in here a large assortment of excellent riddles, on the +occasion of the spring festival of lanterns, I too consequently prepared +prizes, as well as a banquet, and came with the express purpose of +joining the company; and why don't you in some way confer a fraction of +the fond love, which you cherish for your grandsons and granddaughters, +upon me also, your son?" + +"When you're here," old lady Chia replied smilingly, "they won't venture +to chat or laugh; and unless you go, you'll really fill me with intense +dejection! But if you feel inclined to guess conundrums, well, I'll tell +you one for you to solve; but if you don't guess right, mind, you'll be +mulcted!" + +"Of course I'll submit to the penalty," Chia Cheng rejoined eagerly, as +he laughed, "but if I do guess right, I must in like manner receive a +reward!" + +"This goes without saying!" dowager lady Chia added; whereupon she went +on to recite: + + The monkey's body gently rests on the tree top! + +"This refers," she said, "to the name of a fruit." + +Chia Cheng was already aware that it was a lichee, but he designedly +made a few guesses at random, and was fined several things; but he +subsequently gave, at length, the right answer, and also obtained a +present from her ladyship. + +In due course he too set forth this conundrum for old lady Chia to +guess: + + Correct its body is in appearance, + Both firm and solid is it in substance; + To words, it is true, it cannot give vent, + But spoken to, it always does assent. + +When he had done reciting it, he communicated the answer in an undertone +to Pao-yue; and Pao-yue fathoming what his intention was, gently too told +his grandmother Chia, and her ladyship finding, after some reflection, +that there was really no mistake about it, readily remarked that it was +an inkslab. + +"After all," Chia Cheng smiled; "Your venerable ladyship it is who can +hit the right answer with one guess!" and turning his head round, "Be +quick," he cried, "and bring the prizes and present them!" whereupon the +married women and waiting-maids below assented with one voice, and they +simultaneously handed up the large trays and small boxes. + +Old lady Chia passed the things, one by one, under inspection; and +finding that they consisted of various kinds of articles, novel and +ingenious, of use and of ornament, in vogue during the lantern festival, +her heart was so deeply elated that with alacrity she shouted, "Pour a +glass of wine for your master!" + +Pao-yue took hold of the decanter, while Ying Ch'un presented the cup of +wine. + +"Look on that screen!" continued dowager lady Chia, "all those riddles +have been written by the young ladies; so go and guess them for my +benefit!" + +Chia Cheng signified his obedience, and rising and walking up to the +front of the screen, he noticed the first riddle, which was one composed +by the Imperial consort Yuean, in this strain: + + The pluck of devils to repress in influence it abounds, + Like bound silk is its frame, and like thunder its breath resounds. + But one report rattles, and men are lo! in fear and dread; + Transformed to ashes 'tis what time to see you turn the head. + +"Is this a cracker?" Chia Cheng inquired. + +"It is," Pao-yue assented. + +Chia Cheng then went on to peruse that of Ying-Ch'un's, which referred +to an article of use: + + Exhaustless is the principle of heavenly calculations and of human + skill; + Skill may exist, but without proper practice the result to find hard + yet + will be! + Whence cometh all this mixed confusion on a day so still? + Simply it is because the figures Yin and Yang do not agree. + +"It's an abacus," Chia Cheng observed. + +"Quite so!" replied Ying Ch'un smiling; after which they also conned the +one below, by T'an-ch'un, which ran thus and had something to do with an +object: + + This is the time when 'neath the stairs the pages their heads raise! + The term of "pure brightness" is the meetest time this thing to make! + The vagrant silk it snaps, and slack, without tension it strays! + The East wind don't begrudge because its farewell it did take! + +"It would seem," Chia Cheng suggested, "as if that must be a kite!" + +"It is," answered T'an C'h'un; whereupon Chia Cheng read the one below, +which was written by Tai-yue to this effect and bore upon some thing: + + After the audience, his two sleeves who brings with fumes replete? + Both by the lute and in the quilt, it lacks luck to abide! + The dawn it marks; reports from cock and man renders effete! + At midnight, maids no trouble have a new one to provide! + The head, it glows during the day, as well as in the night! + Its heart, it burns from day to day and 'gain from year to year! + Time swiftly flies and mete it is that we should hold it dear! + Changes might come, but it defies wind, rain, days dark or bright! + +"Isn't this a scented stick to show the watch?" Chia Cheng inquired. + +"Yes!" assented Pao-yue, speaking on Tai-yue's behalf; and Chia Cheng +thereupon prosecuted the perusal of a conundrum, which ran as follows, +and referred to an object; + + With the South, it sits face to face, + And the North, the while, it doth face; + If the figure be sad, it also is sad, + If the figure be glad, it likewise is glad! + +"Splendid! splendid!" exclaimed Chia Cheng, "my guess is that it's a +looking-glass. It's excellently done!" + +Pao-yue smiled. "It is a looking glass!" he rejoined. + +"This is, however, anonymous; whose work is it?" Chia Cheng went on to +ask, and dowager lady Chia interposed: "This, I fancy, must have been +composed by Pao-yue," and Chia Cheng then said not a word, but continued +reading the following conundrum, which was that devised by Pao-ch'ai, on +some article or other: + + Eyes though it has; eyeballs it has none, and empty 'tis inside! + The lotus flowers out of the water peep, and they with gladness meet, + But when dryandra leaves begin to drop, they then part and divide, + For a fond pair they are, but, united, winter they cannot greet. + +When Chia Cheng finished scanning it, he gave way to reflection. "This +object," he pondered, "must surely be limited in use! But for persons of +tender years to indulge in all this kind of language, would seem to be +still less propitious; for they cannot, in my views, be any of them the +sort of people to enjoy happiness and longevity!" When his reflections +reached this point, he felt the more dejected, and plainly betrayed a +sad appearance, and all he did was to droop his head and to plunge in a +brown study. + +But upon perceiving the frame of mind in which Chia Cheng was, dowager +lady Chia arrived at the conclusion that he must be fatigued; and +fearing, on the other hand, that if she detained him, the whole party of +young ladies would lack the spirit to enjoy themselves, she there and +then faced Chia Cheng and suggested: "There's no need really for you to +remain here any longer, and you had better retire to rest; and let us +sit a while longer; after which, we too will break up!" + +As soon as Chia Cheng caught this hint, he speedily assented several +consecutive yes's; and when he had further done his best to induce old +lady Chia to have a cup of wine, he eventually withdrew out of the Hall. +On his return to his bedroom, he could do nothing else than give way to +cogitation, and, as he turned this and turned that over in his mind, he +got still more sad and pained. + +"Amuse yourselves now!" readily exclaimed dowager lady Chia, during this +while, after seeing Chia Cheng off; but this remark was barely finished, +when she caught sight of Pao-yue run up to the lantern screen, and give +vent, as he gesticulated with his hands and kicked his feet about, to +any criticisms that first came to his lips. "In this," he remarked, +"this line isn't happy; and that one, hasn't been suitably solved!" +while he behaved just like a monkey, whose fetters had been let loose. + +"Were the whole party after all," hastily ventured Tai-yue, "to sit down, +as we did a short while back and chat and laugh; wouldn't that be more +in accordance with good manners?" + +Lady Feng thereupon egressed from the room in the inner end and +interposed her remarks. "Such a being as you are," she said, "shouldn't +surely be allowed by Mr. Chia Cheng, an inch or a step from his side, +and then you'll be all right. But just then it slipped my memory, for +why didn't I, when your father was present, instigate him to bid you +compose a rhythmical enigma; and you would, I have no doubt, have been +up to this moment in a state of perspiration!" + +At these words, Pao-yue lost all patience, and laying hold of lady Feng, +he hustled her about for a few moments. + +But old lady Chia went on for some time to bandy words with Li +Kung-ts'ai, with the whole company of young ladies and the rest, so that +she, in fact, felt considerably tired and worn out; and when she heard +that the fourth watch had already drawn nigh, she consequently issued +directions that the eatables should be cleared away and given to the +crowd of servants, and suggested, as she readily rose to her feet, "Let +us go and rest! for the next day is also a feast, and we must get up at +an early hour; and to-morrow evening we can enjoy ourselves again!" +whereupon the whole company dispersed. + +But now, reader, listen to the sequel given in the chapter which +follows. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + Pao-yue and Tai-yue make use of some beautiful passages from the Record + of the Western Side-building to bandy jokes. + The excellent ballads sung in the Peony Pavilion touch the tender + heart of Tai-yue. + + +Soon after the day on which Chia Yuan-ch'un honoured the garden of Broad +Vista with a visit, and her return to the Palace, so our story goes, she +forthwith desired that T'an-ch'un should make a careful copy, in +consecutive order, of the verses, which had been composed and read out +on that occasion, in order that she herself should assign them their +rank, and adjudge the good and bad. And she also directed that an +inscription should be engraved on a stone, in the Broad Vista park, to +serve in future years as a record of the pleasant and felicitous event; +and Chia Cheng, therefore, gave orders to servants to go far and wide, +and select skilful artificers and renowned workmen, to polish the stone +and engrave the characters in the garden of Broad Vista; while Chia Chen +put himself at the head of Chia Jung, Chia P'ing and others to +superintend the work. And as Chia Se had, on the other hand, the control +of Wen Kuan and the rest of the singing girls, twelve in all, as well as +of their costumes and other properties, he had no leisure to attend to +anything else, and consequently once again sent for Chia Ch'ang and Chia +Ling to come and act as overseers. + +On a certain day, the works were taken in hand for rubbing the stones +smooth with wax, for carving the inscription, and tracing it with +vermilion, but without entering into details on these matters too +minutely, we will return to the two places, the Yu Huang temple and the +Ta Mo monastery. The company of twelve young bonzes and twelve young +Taoist priests had now moved out of the Garden of Broad Vista, and Chia +Cheng was meditating upon distributing them to various temples to live +apart, when unexpectedly Chia Ch'in's mother, nee Chou,--who resided in +the back street, and had been at the time contemplating to pay a visit +to Chia Cheng on this side so as to obtain some charge, be it either +large or small, for her son to look after, that he too should be put in +the way of turning up some money to meet his expenses with,--came, as +luck would have it, to hear that some work was in hand in this mansion, +and lost no time in driving over in a curricle and making her appeal to +lady Feng. And as lady Feng remembered that she had all along not +presumed on her position to put on airs, she willingly acceded to her +request, and after calling to memory some suitable remarks, she at once +went to make her report to madame Wang: "These young bonzes and Taoist +priests," she said, "can by no means be sent over to other places; for +were the Imperial consort to come out at an unexpected moment, they +would then be required to perform services; and in the event of their +being scattered, there will, when the time comes to requisition their +help, again be difficulties in the way; and my idea is that it would be +better to send them all to the family temple, the Iron Fence Temple; and +every month all there will be to do will be to depute some one to take +over a few taels for them to buy firewood and rice with, that's all, and +when there's even a sound of their being required uttered, some one can +at once go and tell them just one word 'come,' and they will come +without the least trouble!" + +Madame Wang gave a patient ear to this proposal, and, in due course, +consulted with Chia Cheng. + +"You've really," smiled Chia Cheng at these words, "reminded me how I +should act! Yes, let this be done!" And there and then he sent for Chia +Lien. + +Chia Lien was, at the time, having his meal with lady Feng, but as soon +as he heard that he was wanted, he put by his rice and was just walking +off, when lady Feng clutched him and pulled him back. "Wait a while," +she observed with a smirk, "and listen to what I've got to tell you! if +it's about anything else, I've nothing to do with it; but if it be about +the young bonzes and young Taoists, you must, in this particular matter, +please comply with this suggestion of mine," after which, she went on in +this way and that way to put him up to a whole lot of hints. + +"I know nothing about it," Chia Lien rejoined smilingly, "and as you +have the knack you yourself had better go and tell him!" + +But as soon as lady Feng heard this remark, she stiffened her head and +threw down the chopsticks; and, with an expression on her cheeks, which +looked like a smile and yet not a smile, she glanced angrily at Chia +Lien. "Are you speaking in earnest," she inquired, "or are you only +jesting?" + +"Yuen Erh, the son of our fifth sister-in-law of the western porch, has +come and appealed to me two or three times, asking for something to look +after," Chia Lien laughed, "and I assented and bade him wait; and now, +after a great deal of trouble, this job has turned up; and there you are +once again snatching it away!" + +"Compose your mind," lady Feng observed grinning, "for the Imperial +Consort has hinted that directions should be given for the planting, in +the north-east corner of the park, of a further plentiful supply of pine +and cedar trees, and that orders should also be issued for the addition, +round the base of the tower, of a large number of flowers and plants and +such like; and when this job turns up, I can safely tell you that Yun +Erh will be called to assume control of these works." + +"Well if that be really so," Chia Lien rejoined, "it will after all do! +But there's only one thing; all I was up to last night was simply to +have some fun with you, but you obstinately and perversely wouldn't." + +Lady Feng, upon hearing these words, burst out laughing with a sound of +Ch'ih, and spurting disdainfully at Chia Lien, she lowered her head and +went on at once with her meal; during which time Chia Lien speedily +walked away laughing the while, and betook himself to the front, where +he saw Chia Cheng. It was, indeed, about the young bonzes, and Chia Lien +readily carried out lady Feng's suggestion. "As from all appearances," +he continued, "Ch'in Erh has, actually, so vastly improved, this job +should, after all, be entrusted to his care and management; and provided +that in observance with the inside custom Ch'in Erh were each day told +to receive the advances, things will go on all right." And as Chia Cheng +had never had much attention to give to such matters of detail, he, as +soon as he heard what Chia Lien had to say, immediately signified his +approval and assent. And Chia Lien, on his return to his quarters, +communicated the issue to lady Feng; whereupon lady Feng at once sent +some one to go and notify dame Chou. + +Chia Ch'in came, in due course, to pay a visit to Chia Lien and his +wife, and was incessant in his expressions of gratitude; and lady Feng +bestowed upon him a further favour by giving him, as a first instalment, +an advance of the funds necessary for three months' outlay, for which +she bade him write a receipt; while Chia Lien filled up a cheque and +signed it; and a counter-order was simultaneously issued, and he came +out into the treasury where the sum specified for three months' +supplies, amounting to three hundred taels, was paid out in pure ingots. + +Chia Ch'in took the first piece of silver that came under his hand, and +gave it to the men in charge of the scales, with which he told them to +have a cup of tea, and bidding, shortly after, a boy-servant take the +money to his home, he held consultation with his mother; after which, he +hired a donkey for himself to ride on, and also bespoke several +carriages, and came to the back gate of the Jung Kuo mansion; where +having called out the twenty young priests, they got into the carriages, +and sped straightway beyond the city walls, to the Temple of the Iron +Fence, where nothing of any note transpired at the time. + +But we will now notice Chia Yuean-ch'un, within the precincts of the +Palace. When she had arranged the verses composed in the park of Broad +Vista in their order of merit, she suddenly recollected that the sights +in the garden were sure, ever since her visit through them, to be +diligently and respectfully kept locked up by her father and mother; and +that by not allowing any one to go in was not an injustice done to this +garden? "Besides," (she pondered), "in that household, there are at +present several young ladies, capable of composing odes, and able to +write poetry, and why should not permission be extended to them to go +and take their quarters in it; in order too that those winsome persons +might not be deprived of good cheer, and that the flowers and willows +may not lack any one to admire them!" + +But remembering likewise that Pao-yue had from his infancy grown up among +that crowd of female cousins, and was such a contrast to the rest of his +male cousins that were he not allowed to move into it, he would, she +also apprehended, be made to feel forlorn; and dreading lest his +grandmother and his mother should be displeased at heart, she thought it +imperative that he too should be permitted to take up his quarters +inside, so that things should be put on a satisfactory footing; and +directing the eunuch Hsia Chung to go to the Jung mansion and deliver +her commands, she expressed the wish that Pao-ch'ai and the other girls +should live in the garden and that it should not be kept closed, and +urged that Pao-yue should also shift into it, at his own pleasure, for +the prosecution of his studies. And Chia Cheng and madame Wang, upon +receiving her commands, hastened, after the departure of Hsia Chung, to +explain them to dowager lady Chia, and to despatch servants into the +garden to tidy every place, to dust, to sweep, and to lay out the +portieres and bed-curtains. The tidings were heard by the rest even with +perfect equanimity, but Pao-yue was immoderately delighted; and he was +engaged in deliberation with dowager lady Chia as to this necessary and +to that requirement, when suddenly they descried a waiting-maid arrive, +who announced: "Master wishes to see Pao-yue." + +Pao-yue gazed vacantly for a while. His spirits simultaneously were swept +away; his countenance changed colour; and clinging to old lady Chia, he +readily wriggled her about, just as one would twist the sugar (to make +sweetmeats with), and could not, for the very death of him, summon up +courage to go; so that her ladyship had no alternative but to try and +reassure him. "My precious darling" she urged, "just you go, and I'll +stand by you! He won't venture to be hard upon you; and besides, you've +devised these excellent literary compositions; and I presume as Her +Majesty has desired that you should move into the garden, his object is +to give you a few words of advice; simply because he fears that you +might be up to pranks in those grounds. But to all he tells you, +whatever you do, mind you acquiesce and it will be all right!" + +And as she tried to compose him, she at the same time called two old +nurses and enjoined them to take Pao-yue over with due care, "And don't +let his father," she added, "frighten him!" + +The old nurses expressed their obedience, and Pao-yue felt constrained to +walk ahead; and with one step scarcely progressing three inches, he +leisurely came over to this side. Strange coincidence Chia Cheng was in +madame Wang's apartments consulting with her upon some matter or other, +and Chin Ch'uan-erh, Ts'ai Yun, Ts'ai Feng, Ts'ai Luan, Hsiu Feng and +the whole number of waiting-maids were all standing outside under the +verandah. As soon as they caught sight of Pao-yue, they puckered up their +mouths and laughed at him; while Chin Ch'uan grasped Pao-yue with one +hand, and remarked in a low tone of voice: "On these lips of mine has +just been rubbed cosmetic, soaked with perfume, and are you now inclined +to lick it or not?" whereupon Ts'ai Yuen pushed off Chin Ch'uan with one +shove, as she interposed laughingly, "A person's heart is at this moment +in low spirits and do you still go on cracking jokes at him? But avail +yourself of this opportunity when master is in good cheer to make haste +and get in!" + +Pao-yue had no help but to sidle against the door and walk in. Chia Cheng +and madame Wang were, in fact, both in the inner rooms, and dame Chou +raised the portiere. Pao-yue stepped in gingerly and perceived Chia Cheng +and madame Wang sitting opposite to each other, on the stove-couch, +engaged in conversation; while below on a row of chairs sat Ying Ch'un, +T'an Ch'un, Hsi Ch'un and Chia Huan; but though all four of them were +seated in there only T'an Ch'un, Hsi Ch'un and Chia Huan rose to their +feet, as soon as they saw him make his appearance in the room; and when +Chia Cheng raised his eyes and noticed Pao-yue standing in front of him, +with a gait full of ease and with those winsome looks of his, so +captivating, he once again realised what a mean being Chia Huan was, and +how coarse his deportment. But suddenly he also bethought himself of +Chia Chu, and as he reflected too that madame Wang had only this son of +her own flesh and blood, upon whom she ever doated as upon a gem, and +that his own beard had already begun to get hoary, the consequence was +that he unwittingly stifled, well nigh entirely, the feeling of hatred +and dislike, which, during the few recent years he had ordinarily +fostered towards Pao-yue. And after a long pause, "Her Majesty," he +observed, "bade you day after day ramble about outside to disport +yourself, with the result that you gradually became remiss and lazy; but +now her desire is that we should keep you under strict control, and that +in prosecuting your studies in the company of your cousins in the +garden, you should carefully exert your brains to learn; so that if you +don't again attend to your duties, and mind your regular tasks, you had +better be on your guard!" Pao-yue assented several consecutive yes's; +whereupon madame Wang drew him by her side and made him sit down, and +while his three cousins resumed the seats they previously occupied: +"Have you finished all the pills you had been taking a short while +back?" madame Wang inquired, as she rubbed Pao-yue's neck. + +"There's still one pill remaining," Pao-yue explained by way of reply. + +"You had better," madame Wang added, "fetch ten more pills tomorrow +morning; and every day about bedtime tell Hsi Jen to give them to you; +and when you've had one you can go to sleep!" + +"Ever since you, mother, bade me take them," Pao-yue rejoined, "Hsi Jen +has daily sent me one, when I was about to turn in." + +"Who's this called Hsi Jen?" Chia Chen thereupon ascertained. + +"She's a waiting-maid!" madame Wang answered. + +"A servant girl," Chia Cheng remonstrated, "can be called by whatever +name one chooses; anything is good enough; but who's it who has started +this kind of pretentious name!" + +Madame Wang noticed that Chia Cheng was not in a happy frame of mind, so +that she forthwith tried to screen matters for Pao-yue, by saying: "It's +our old lady who has originated it!" + +"How can it possibly be," Chia Cheng exclaimed, "that her ladyship knows +anything about such kind of language? It must, for a certainty, be +Pao-yue!" + +Pao-yue perceiving that he could not conceal the truth from him, was +under the necessity of standing up and of explaining; "As I have all +along read verses, I remembered the line written by an old poet: + + "What time the smell of flowers wafts itself into man, one knows the + day is warm. + +"And as this waiting-maid's surname was Hua (flower), I readily gave her +the name, on the strength of this sentiment." + +"When you get back," madame Wang speedily suggested addressing Pao-yue, +"change it and have done; and you, sir, needn't lose your temper over +such a trivial matter!" + +"It doesn't really matter in the least," Chia Cheng continued; "so that +there's no necessity of changing it; but it's evident that Pao-yue +doesn't apply his mind to legitimate pursuits, but mainly devotes his +energies to such voluptuous expressions and wanton verses!" And as he +finished these words, he abruptly shouted out: "You brute-like child of +retribution! Don't you yet get out of this?" + +"Get away, off with you!" madame Wang in like manner hastened to urge; +"our dowager lady is waiting, I fear, for you to have her repast!" + +Pao-yue assented, and, with gentle step, he withdrew out of the room, +laughing at Chin Ch'uan-erh, as he put out his tongue; and leading off +the two nurses, he went off on his way like a streak of smoke. But no +sooner had he reached the door of the corridor than he espied Hsi Jen +standing leaning against the side; who perceiving Pao-yue come back safe +and sound heaped smile upon smile, and asked: "What did he want you +for?" + +"There was nothing much," Pao-yue explained, "he simply feared that I +would, when I get into the garden, be up to mischief, and he gave me all +sorts of advice;" and, as while he explained matters, they came into the +presence of lady Chia, he gave her a clear account, from first to last, +of what had transpired. But when he saw that Lin Tai-yue was at the +moment in the room, Pao-yue speedily inquired of her: "Which place do you +think best to live in?" + +Tai-yue had just been cogitating on this subject, so that when she +unexpectedly heard Pao-yue's inquiry, she forthwith rejoined with a +smile: "My own idea is that the Hsio Hsiang Kuan is best; for I'm fond +of those clusters of bamboos, which hide from view the tortuous +balustrade and make the place more secluded and peaceful than any +other!" + +Pao-yue at these words clapped his hands and smiled. "That just meets +with my own views!" he remarked; "I too would like you to go and live in +there; and as I am to stay in the I Hung Yuan, we two will be, in the +first place, near each other; and next, both in quiet and secluded +spots." + +While the two of them were conversing, a servant came, sent over by Chia +Cheng, to report to dowager lady Chia that: "The 22nd of the second moon +was a propitious day for Pao-yue and the young ladies to shift their +quarters into the garden; that during these few days, servants should be +sent in to put things in their proper places and to clean; that Hsueh +Pao-ch'ai should put up in the Heng Wu court; that Lin Tai-yue was to +live in the Hsiao Hsiang lodge; that Chia Ying-ch'un should move into +the Cho Chin two-storied building; that T'an Ch'un should put up in the +Ch'iu Yen library; that Hsi Ch'un should take up her quarters in the +Liao Feng house; that widow Li should live in the Tao Hsiang village, +and that Pao-yue was to live in the I Hung court. That at every place two +old nurses should be added and four servant-girls; that exclusive of the +nurse and personal waiting-maid of each, there should, in addition, be +servants, whose special duties should be to put things straight and to +sweep the place; and that on the 22nd, they should all, in a body, move +into the garden." + +When this season drew near, the interior of the grounds, with the +flowers waving like embroidered sashes, and the willows fanned by the +fragrant breeze, was no more as desolate and silent as it had been in +previous days; but without indulging in any further irrelevant details, +we shall now go back to Pao-yue. + +Ever since he shifted his quarters into the park, his heart was full of +joy, and his mind of contentment, fostering none of those extraordinary +ideas, whose tendency could be to give birth to longings and hankerings. +Day after day, he simply indulged, in the company of his female cousins +and the waiting-maids, in either reading his books, or writing +characters, or in thrumming the lute, playing chess, drawing pictures +and scanning verses, even in drawing patterns of argus pheasants, in +embroidering phoenixes, contesting with them in searching for strange +plants, and gathering flowers, in humming poetry with gentle tone, +singing ballads with soft voice, dissecting characters, and in playing +at mora, so that, being free to go everywhere and anywhere, he was of +course completely happy. From his pen emanate four ballads on the times +of the four seasons, which, although they could not be looked upon as +first-rate, afford anyhow a correct idea of his sentiments, and a true +account of the scenery. + +The ballad on the spring night runs as follows: + + The silken curtains, thin as russet silk, at random are spread out. + The croak of frogs from the adjoining lane but faintly strikes the + ear. + The pillow a slight chill pervades, for rain outside the window falls. + The landscape, which now meets the eye, is like that seen in dreams by + man. + In plenteous streams the candles' tears do drop, but for whom do they + weep? + Each particle of grief felt by the flowers is due to anger against me. + It's all because the maids have by indulgence indolent been made. + The cover over me I'll pull, as I am loth to laugh and talk for long. + +This is the description of the aspect of nature on a summer night: + + The beauteous girl, weary of needlework, quiet is plunged in a long + dream. + The parrot in the golden cage doth shout that it is time the tea to + brew. + The lustrous windows with the musky moon like open palace-mirrors + look; + The room abounds with fumes of sandalwood and all kinds of imperial + scents. + From the cups made of amber is poured out the slippery dew from the + lotus. + The banisters of glass, the cool zephyr enjoy flapped by the willow + trees. + In the stream-spanning kiosk, the curtains everywhere all at one time + do wave. + In the vermilion tower the blinds the maidens roll, for they have made + the night's toilette. + +The landscape of an autumnal evening is thus depicted: + + In the interior of the Chiang Yuen house are hushed all clamorous din + and noise. + The sheen, which from Selene flows, pervades the windows of carnation + gauze. + The moss-locked, streaked rocks shelter afford to the cranes, plunged + in sleep. + The dew, blown on the t'ung tree by the well, doth wet the roosting + rooks. + Wrapped in a quilt, the maid comes the gold phoenix coverlet to + spread. + The girl, who on the rails did lean, on her return drops the + kingfisher flowers! + This quiet night his eyes in sleep he cannot close, as he doth long + for wine. + The smoke is stifled, and the fire restirred, when tea is ordered to + be brewed. + +The picture of a winter night is in this strain: + + The sleep of the plum trees, the dream of the bamboos the third watch + have already reached. + Under the embroidered quilt and the kingfisher coverlet one can't + sleep for the cold. + The shadow of fir trees pervades the court, but cranes are all that + meet the eye. + Both far and wide the pear blossom covers the ground, but yet the hawk + cannot be heard. + The wish, verses to write, fostered by the damsel with the green + sleeves, has waxed cold. + The master, with the gold sable pelisse, cannot endure much wine. + But yet he doth rejoice that his attendant knows the way to brew the + tea. + The newly-fallen snow is swept what time for tea the water must be + boiled. + +But putting aside Pao-yue, as he leisurely was occupied in scanning some +verses, we will now allude to all these ballads. There lived, at that +time, a class of people, whose wont was to servilely court the +influential and wealthy, and who, upon perceiving that the verses were +composed by a young lad of the Jung Kuo mansion, of only twelve or +thirteen years of age, had copies made, and taking them outside sang +their praise far and wide. There were besides another sort of +light-headed young men, whose heart was so set upon licentious and +seductive lines, that they even inscribed them on fans and screen-walls, +and time and again kept on humming them and extolling them. And to the +above reasons must therefore be ascribed the fact that persons came in +search of stanzas and in quest of manuscripts, to apply for sketches and +to beg for poetical compositions, to the increasing satisfaction of +Pao-yue, who day after day, when at home, devoted his time and attention +to these extraneous matters. But who would have anticipated that he +could ever in his quiet seclusion have become a prey to a spirit of +restlessness? Of a sudden, one day he began to feel discontent, finding +fault with this and turning up his nose at that; and going in and coming +out he was simply full of ennui. And as all the girls in the garden were +just in the prime of youth, and at a time of life when, artless and +unaffected, they sat and reclined without regard to retirement, and +disported themselves and joked without heed, how could they ever have +come to read the secrets which at this time occupied a place in the +heart of Pao-yue? But so unhappy was Pao-yue within himself that he soon +felt loth to stay in the garden, and took to gadding about outside like +an evil spirit; but he behaved also the while in an idiotic manner. + +Ming Yen, upon seeing him go on in this way, felt prompted, with the +idea of affording his mind some distraction, to think of this and to +devise that expedient; but everything had been indulged in with surfeit +by Pao-yue, and there was only this resource, (that suggested itself to +him,) of which Pao-yue had not as yet had any experience. Bringing his +reflections to a close, he forthwith came over to a bookshop, and +selecting novels, both of old and of the present age, traditions +intended for outside circulation on Fei Yen, Ho Te, Wu Tse-t'ien, and +Yang Kuei-fei, as well as books of light literature consisting of +strange legends, he purchased a good number of them with the express +purpose of enticing Pao-yue to read them. As soon as Pao-yue caught sight +of them, he felt as if he had obtained some gem or jewel. "But you +mustn't," Ming Yen went on to enjoin him, "take them into the garden; +for if any one were to come to know anything about them, I shall then +suffer more than I can bear; and you should, when you go along, hide +them in your clothes!" + +But would Pao-yue agree to not introducing them into the garden? So after +much wavering, he picked out only several volumes of those whose style +was more refined, and took them in, and threw them over the top of his +bed for him to peruse when no one was present; while those coarse and +very indecent ones, he concealed in a bundle in the outer library. + +On one day, which happened to be the middle decade of the third moon, +Pao-yue, after breakfast, took a book, the "Hui Chen Chi," in his hand +and walked as far as the bridge of the Hsin Fang lock. Seating himself +on a block of rock, that lay under the peach trees in that quarter, he +opened the Hui Chen Chi and began to read it carefully from the +beginning. But just as he came to the passage: "the falling red +(flowers) have formed a heap," he felt a gust of wind blow through the +trees, bringing down a whole bushel of peach blossoms; and, as they +fell, his whole person, the entire surface of the book as well as a +large extent of ground were simply bestrewn with petals of the blossoms. +Pao-yue was bent upon shaking them down; but as he feared lest they +should be trodden under foot, he felt constrained to carry the petals in +his coat and walk to the bank of the pond and throw them into the +stream. The petals floated on the surface of the water, and, after +whirling and swaying here and there, they at length ran out by the Hsin +Fang lock. But, on his return under the tree, he found the ground again +one mass of petals, and Pao-yue was just hesitating what to do, when he +heard some one behind his back inquire, "What are you up to here?" and +as soon as Pao-yue turned his head round, he discovered that it was Lin +Tai-yue, who had come over carrying on her shoulder a hoe for raking +flowers, that on this hoe was suspended a gauze-bag, and that in her +hand she held a broom. + +"That's right, well done!" Pao-yue remarked smiling; "come and sweep +these flowers, and throw them into the water yonder. I've just thrown a +lot in there myself!" + +"It isn't right," Lin Tai-yue rejoined, "to throw them into the water. +The water, which you see, is clean enough here, but as soon as it finds +its way out, where are situated other people's grounds, what isn't there +in it? so that you would be misusing these flowers just as much as if +you left them here! But in that corner, I have dug a hole for flowers, +and I'll now sweep these and put them into this gauze-bag and bury them +in there; and, in course of many days, they will also become converted +into earth, and won't this be a clean way (of disposing of them)?" + +Pao-yue, after listening to these words, felt inexpressibly delighted. +"Wait!" he smiled, "until I put down my book, and I'll help you to clear +them up!" + +"What's the book?" Tai-yue inquired. + +Pao-yue at this question was so taken aback that he had no time to +conceal it. "It's," he replied hastily, "the Chung Yung and the Ta +Hsueeh!" + +"Are you going again to play the fool with me? Be quick and give it to +me to see; and this will be ever so much better a way!" + +"Cousin," Pao-yue replied, "as far as you yourself are concerned I don't +mind you, but after you've seen it, please don't tell any one else. It's +really written in beautiful style; and were you to once begin reading +it, why even for your very rice you wouldn't have a thought?" + +As he spoke, he handed it to her; and Tai-yue deposited all the flowers +on the ground, took over the book, and read it from the very first page; +and the more she perused it, she got so much the more fascinated by it, +that in no time she had finished reading sixteen whole chapters. But +aroused as she was to a state of rapture by the diction, what remained +even of the fascination was enough to overpower her senses; and though +she had finished reading, she nevertheless continued in a state of +abstraction, and still kept on gently recalling the text to mind, and +humming it to herself. + +"Cousin, tell me is it nice or not?" Pao-yue grinned. + +"It is indeed full of zest!" Lin Tai-yue replied exultingly. + +"I'm that very sad and very sickly person," Pao-yue explained laughing, +"while you are that beauty who could subvert the empire and overthrow +the city." + +Lin Tai-yue became, at these words, unconsciously crimson all over her +cheeks, even up to her very ears; and raising, at the same moment, her +two eyebrows, which seemed to knit and yet not to knit, and opening wide +those eyes, which seemed to stare and yet not to stare, while her +peach-like cheeks bore an angry look and on her thin-skinned face lurked +displeasure, she pointed at Pao-yue and exclaimed: "You do deserve death, +for the rubbish you talk! without any provocation you bring up these +licentious expressions and wanton ballads to give vent to all this +insolent rot, in order to insult me; but I'll go and tell uncle and +aunt." + +As soon as she pronounced the two words "insult me," her eyeballs at +once were suffused with purple, and turning herself round she there and +then walked away; which filled Pao-yue with so much distress that he +jumped forward to impede her progress, as he pleaded: "My dear cousin, I +earnestly entreat you to spare me this time! I've indeed said what I +shouldn't; but if I had any intention to insult you, I'll throw myself +to-morrow into the pond, and let the scabby-headed turtle eat me up, so +that I become transformed into a large tortoise. And when you shall have +by and by become the consort of an officer of the first degree, and you +shall have fallen ill from old age and returned to the west, I'll come +to your tomb and bear your stone tablet for ever on my back!" + +As he uttered these words, Lin Tai-yue burst out laughing with a sound of +"pu ch'ih," and rubbing her eyes, she sneeringly remarked: "I too can +come out with this same tune; but will you now still go on talking +nonsense? Pshaw! you're, in very truth, like a spear-head, (which looks) +like silver, (but is really soft as) wax!" + +"Go on, go on!" Pao-yue smiled after this remark; "and what you've said, +I too will go and tell!" + +"You maintain," Lin Tai-yue rejoined sarcastically, "that after glancing +at anything you're able to recite it; and do you mean to say that I +can't even do so much as take in ten lines with one gaze?" + +Pao-yue smiled and put his book away, urging: "Let's do what's right and +proper, and at once take the flowers and bury them; and don't let us +allude to these things!" + +Forthwith the two of them gathered the fallen blossoms; but no sooner +had they interred them properly than they espied Hsi Jen coming, who +went on to observe: "Where haven't I looked for you? What! have you +found your way as far as this! But our senior master, Mr. Chia She, over +there isn't well; and the young ladies have all gone over to pay their +respects, and our old lady has asked that you should be sent over; so go +back at once and change your clothes!" + +When Pao-yue heard what she said, he hastily picked up his books, and +saying good bye to Tai-yue, he came along with Hsi Jen, back into his +room, where we will leave him to effect the necessary change in his +costume. But during this while, Lin Tai-yue was, after having seen Pao-yue +walk away, and heard that all her cousins were likewise not in their +rooms, wending her way back alone, in a dull and dejected mood, towards +her apartment, when upon reaching the outside corner of the wall of the +Pear Fragrance court, she caught, issuing from inside the walls, the +harmonious strains of the fife and the melodious modulations of voices +singing. Lin Tai-yue readily knew that it was the twelve singing-girls +rehearsing a play; and though she did not give her mind to go and +listen, yet a couple of lines were of a sudden blown into her ears, and +with such clearness, that even one word did not escape. Their burden was +this: + + These troth are beauteous purple and fine carmine flowers, which in + this way all round do bloom, + And all together lie ensconced along the broken well, and the + dilapidated wall! + +But the moment Lin Tai-yue heard these lines, she was, in fact, so +intensely affected and agitated that she at once halted and lending an +ear listened attentively to what they went on to sing, which ran thus: + + A glorious day this is, and pretty scene, but sad I feel at heart! + Contentment and pleasure are to be found in whose family courts? + +After overhearing these two lines, she unconsciously nodded her head, +and sighed, and mused in her own mind. "Really," she thought, "there is +fine diction even in plays! but unfortunately what men in this world +simply know is to see a play, and they don't seem to be able to enjoy +the beauties contained in them." + +At the conclusion of this train of thought, she experienced again a +sting of regret, (as she fancied) she should not have given way to such +idle thoughts and missed attending to the ballads; but when she once +more came to listen, the song, by some coincidence, went on thus: + + It's all because thy loveliness is like a flower and like the comely + spring, + That years roll swiftly by just like a running stream. + +When this couplet struck Tai-yu's ear, her heart felt suddenly a prey to +excitement and her soul to emotion; and upon further hearing the words: + + Alone you sit in the secluded inner rooms to self-compassion giving + way. + +--and other such lines, she became still more as if inebriated, and like +as if out of her head, and unable to stand on her feet, she speedily +stooped her body, and, taking a seat on a block of stone, she minutely +pondered over the rich beauty of the eight characters: + + It's all because thy loveliness is like a flower and like the comely + spring, + That years roll swiftly by just like a running stream. + +Of a sudden, she likewise bethought herself of the line: + + Water flows away and flowers decay, for both no feelings have. + +--which she had read some days back in a poem of an ancient writer, and +also of the passage: + + When on the running stream the flowers do fall, spring then is past + and gone; + +--and of: + + Heaven (differs from) the human race, + +--which also appeared in that work; and besides these, the lines, which +she had a short while back read in the Hsi Hiang Chi: + + The flowers, lo, fall, and on their course the waters red do flow! + Petty misfortunes of ten thousand kinds (my heart assail!) + +both simultaneously flashed through her memory; and, collating them all +together, she meditated on them minutely, until suddenly her heart was +stricken with pain and her soul fleeted away, while from her eyes +trickled down drops of tears. But while nothing could dispel her present +state of mind, she unexpectedly realised that some one from behind gave +her a tap; and, turning her head round to look, she found that it was a +young girl; but who it was, the next chapter will make known. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + The drunken Chin Kang makes light of lucre and shows a preference for + generosity. + The foolish girl mislays her handkerchief and arouses mutual thoughts. + + + +But to return to our narrative. Lin Tai-yue's sentimental reflections +were the while reeling and ravelling in an intricate maze, when +unexpectedly some one from behind gave her a tap, saying: "What are you +up to all alone here?" which took Lin Tai-yu so much by surprise that +she gave a start, and turning her head round to look and noticing that +it was Hsiang Ling and no one else; "You stupid girl!" Lin Tai-yue +replied, "you've given me such a fright! But where do you come from at +this time?" + +Hsiang Ling giggled and smirked. "I've come," she added, "in search of +our young lady, but I can't find her anywhere. But your Tzu Chuan is +also looking after you; and she says that lady Secunda has sent a +present to you of some tea. But you had better go back home and sit +down." + +As she spoke, she took Tai-yue by the hand, and they came along back to +the Hsiao Hsiang Kuan; where lady Feng had indeed sent her two small +catties of a new season tea, of superior quality. But Lin Tai-yue sat +down, in company with Hsiang Ling, and began to converse on the merits +of this tapestry and the fineness of that embroidery; and after they had +also had a game at chess, and read a few sentences out of a book, Hsiang +Ling took her departure. But we need not speak of either of them, but +return now to Pao-yue. Having been found, and brought back home, by Hsi +Jen, he discovered Yuan Yang reclining on the bed, in the act of +examining Hsi Jen's needlework; but when she perceived Pao-yue arrive, +she forthwith remarked: "Where have you been? her venerable ladyship is +waiting for you to tell you to go over and pay your obeisance to our +Senior master, and don't you still make haste to go and change your +clothes and be off!" + +Hsi Jen at once walked into the room to fetch his clothes, and Pao-yue +sat on the edge of the bed, and pushed his shoes off with his toes; and, +while waiting for his boots to put them on, he turned round and +perceiving that Yuean Yang, who was clad in a light red silk jacket and a +green satin waistcoat, and girdled with a white crepe sash, had her face +turned the other way, and her head lowered giving her attention to the +criticism of the needlework, while round her neck she wore a collar with +embroidery, Pao-yue readily pressed his face against the nape of her +neck, and as he sniffed the perfume about it, he did not stay his hand +from stroking her neck, which in whiteness and smoothness was not below +that of Hsi Jen; and as he approached her, "My dear girl," he said +smiling and with a drivelling face, "do let me lick the cosmetic off +your mouth!" clinging to her person, as he uttered these words, like +twisted sweetmeat. + +"Hsi Jen!" cried Yuean Yang at once, "come out and see! You've been with +him a whole lifetime, and don't you give him any advice; but let him +still behave in this fashion!" Whereupon, Hsi Jen walked out, clasping +the clothes, and turning to Pao-yue, she observed, "I advise you in this +way and it's no good, I advise you in that way and you don't mend; and +what do you mean to do after all? But if you again behave like this, it +will then, in fact, be impossible for me to live any longer in this +place!" + +As she tendered these words of counsel, she urged him to put his clothes +on, and, after he had changed, he betook himself, along with Yuan Yang, +to the front part of the mansion, and bade good-bye to dowager lady +Chia; after which he went outside, where the attendants and horses were +all in readiness; but when he was about to mount his steed, he perceived +Chia Lien back from his visit and in the act of dismounting; and as the +two of them stood face to face, and mutually exchanged some inquiries, +they saw some one come round from the side, and say: "My respects to +you, uncle Pao-yue!" + +When Pao-yue came to look at him, he noticed that this person had an +oblong face, that his body was tall and lanky, that his age was only +eighteen or nineteen, and that he possessed, in real truth, an air of +refinement and elegance; but though his features were, after all, +exceedingly familiar, he could not recall to mind to what branch of the +family he belonged, and what his name was. + +"What are you staring vacantly for?" Chia Lien inquired laughing. + +"Don't you even recognise him? He's Yuen Erh, the son of our fifth +sister-in-law, who lives in the back court!" + +"Of course!" Pao-yue assented complacently. "How is it that I had +forgotten just now!" And having gone on to ask how his mother was, and +what work he had to do at present; "I've come in search of uncle +Secundus, to tell him something," Chia Yuen replied, as he pointed at +Chia Lien. + +"You've really improved vastly from what you were before," added Pao-yue +smiling; "you verily look just is if you were my son!" + +"How very barefaced!" Chia Lien exclaimed as he burst out laughing; +"here's a person four or five years your senior to be made your son!" + +"How far are you in your teens this year?" Pao-yue inquired with a smile. + +"Eighteen!" Chia Yuen rejoined. + +This Chia Yuen was, in real deed, sharp and quick-witted; and when he +heard Pao-yue remark that he looked like his son, he readily gave a +sarcastic smile and observed, "The proverb is true which says, 'the +grandfather is rocked in the cradle while the grandson leans on a +staff.' But though old enough in years, I'm nevertheless like a +mountain, which, in spite of its height, cannot screen the sun from +view. Besides, since my father's death, I've had no one to look after +me, and were you, uncle Pao, not to disdain your doltish nephew, and to +acknowledge me as your son, it would be your nephew's good fortune!" + +"Have you heard what he said?" Chia Lien interposed cynically. "But to +acknowledge him as a son is no easy question to settle!" and with these +words, he walked in; whereupon Pao-yue smilingly said: "To-morrow when +you have nothing to do, just come and look me up; but don't go and play +any devilish pranks with them! I've just now no leisure, so come +to-morrow, into the library, where I'll have a chat with you for a whole +day, and take you into the garden for some fun!" + +With this remark still on his lips, he laid hold of the saddle and +mounted his horse; and, followed by the whole bevy of pages, he crossed +over to Chia She's on this side; where having discovered that Chia She +had nothing more the matter with him than a chill which he had suddenly +contracted, he commenced by delivering dowager lady Chia's message, and +next paid his own obeisance. Chia She, at first, stood up and made +suitable answer to her venerable ladyship's inquiries, and then calling +a servant, "Take the gentleman," he said, "into my lady's apartment to +sit down." + +Pao-yue withdrew out of the room, and came by the back to the upper +apartment; and as soon as madame Hsing caught sight of him, she, before +everything else, rose to her feet and asked after old lady Chia's +health; after which, Pao-yue made his own salutation, and madame Hsing +drew him on to the stove-couch, where she induced him to take a seat, +and eventually inquired after the other inmates, and also gave orders to +serve the tea. But scarcely had they had tea, before they perceived Chia +Tsung come in to pay his respects to Pao-yue. + +"Where could one find such a living monkey as this!" madame Hsing +remarked; "is that nurse of yours dead and gone that she doesn't even +keep you clean and tidy, and that she lets you go about with those +eyebrows of yours so black and that mouth so filthy! you scarcely look +like the child of a great family of scholars." + +While she spoke, she perceived both Chia Huan and Chia Lan, one of whom +was a young uncle and the other his nephew, also advance and present +their compliments, and madame Hsing bade the two of them sit down on the +chairs. But when Chia Huan noticed that Pao-yue sat on the same rug with +madame Hsing, and that her ladyship was further caressing and petting +him in every possible manner, he soon felt so very unhappy at heart, +that, after sitting for a short time, he forthwith made a sign to Chia +Lan that he would like to go; and as Chia Lan could not but humour him, +they both got up together to take their leave. But when Pao-yue perceived +them rise, he too felt a wish to go back along with them, but madame +Hsing remarked smilingly, "You had better sit a while as I've something +more to tell you," so that Pao-yue had no alternative but to stay. "When +you get back," madame Hsing added, addressing the other two, "present, +each one of you, my regards to your respective mothers. The young +ladies, your cousins, are all here making such a row that my head is +dazed, so that I won't to-day keep you to have your repast here." To +which Chia Huan and Chia Lan assented and quickly walked out. + +"If it be really the case that all my cousins have come over," Pao-yue +ventured with a smirk, "how is it that I don't see them?" + +"After sitting here for a while," madame Hsing explained, "they all went +at the back; but in what rooms they have gone, I don't know." + +"My senior aunt, you said you had something to tell me, Pao-yue observed; +what's it, I wonder?" + +"What can there possibly be to tell you?" madame Hsing laughed; "it was +simply to make you wait and have your repast with the young ladies and +then go; but there's also a fine plaything that I'll give you to take +back to amuse yourself with." + +These two, the aunt and her nephew, were going on with their colloquy +when, much to their surprise, it was time for dinner and the young +ladies were all invited to come. The tables and chairs were put in their +places, and the cups and plates were arranged in proper order; and, +after the mother, her daughter and the cousins had finished their meal, +Pao-yue bade good-bye to Chia She and returned home in company with all +the young ladies; and when they had said good-night to dowager lady +Chia, madame Wang and the others, they each went back into their rooms +and retired to rest; where we shall leave them without any further +comment and speak of Chia Yuen's visit to the mansion. As soon as he saw +Chia Lien, he inquired what business it was that had turned up, and Chia +Lien consequently explained: "The other day something did actually +present itself, but as it happened that your aunt had again and again +entreated me, I gave it to Chia Ch'in; as she promised me that there +would be by and by in the garden several other spots where flowers and +trees would be planted; and that when this job did occur, she would, for +a certainty, give it to you and finish!" + +Chia Yuen, upon hearing these words, suggested after a short pause; "If +that be so, there's nothing for me to do than to wait; but, uncle, you +too mustn't make any allusion beforehand in the presence of aunt to my +having come to-day to make any inquiries; for there will really be ample +time to speak to her when the job turns up!" + +"Why should I allude to it?" Chia Lien rejoined. "Have I forsooth got +all this leisure to talk of irrelevant matters! But to-morrow, besides, +I've got to go as far as Hsing Yi for a turn, and it's absolutely +necessary that I should hurriedly come back the very same day; so off +with you now and go and wait; and the day after to-morrow, after the +watch has been set, come and ask for news; but mind at any earlier hour, +I shan't have any leisure!" With these words, he hastily went at the +back to change his clothes. And from the time Chia Yun put his foot out +of the door of the Jung Kuo mansion, he was, the whole way homeward, +plunged in deep thought; but having bethought himself of some expedient, +he straightway wended his steps towards the house of his maternal uncle, +Pu Shih-jen. This Pu Shih-jen, it must be explained, kept, at the +present date, a shop for the sale of spices. He had just returned home +from his shop, and as soon as he noticed Chia Yun, he inquired of him +what business brought him there. + +"There's something," Chia Yun replied, "in which I would like to crave +your assistance, uncle; I'm in need of some baroos camphor and musk, so +please, uncle, give me on credit four ounces of each kind, and on the +festival of the eighth moon, I'll bring you the amount in full." + +Pu Shih-jen gave a sardonic smile. "Don't," he said, "again allude to +any such thing as selling on tick! Some time back a partner in our +establishment got several ounces of goods for his relatives on credit, +and up to this date the bill hasn't as yet been settled; the result +being that we've all had to make the amount good, so that we've entered +into an agreement that we should no more allow any one to obtain on tick +anything on behalf of either relative or friend, and that whoever acted +contrary to this resolution should be, at once, fined twenty taels, with +which to stand a treat. Besides, the stock of these articles is now +short, and were you also to come, with ready money to this our mean shop +to buy any, we wouldn't even have as much to give you. The best way +therefore is for you to go elsewhere. This is one side of the question; +for on the other, you can't have anything above-board in view; and were +you to obtain what you want as a loan you would again go and play the +giddy dog! But you'll simply say that on every occasion your uncle sees +you, he avails himself of it to find fault with you, but a young fellow +like you doesn't know what's good and what is bad; and you should, +besides, make up your mind to earn a few cash, wherewith to clothe and +feed yourself, so that, when I see you, I too may rejoice!" + +"What you, uncle, say," Chia Yun rejoined smiling, "is perfectly right; +the only thing is that at the time of my father's death, I was likewise +so young in years that I couldn't understand anything; but later on, I +heard my mother explain how that for everything, it was lucky that you, +after all, my uncles, went over to our house and devised the ways and +means, and managed the funeral; and is it likely you, uncle, aren't +aware of these things? Besides, have I forsooth had a single acre of +land or a couple of houses, the value of which I've run through as soon +as it came into my hands? An ingenious wife cannot make boiled rice +without raw rice; and what would you have me do? It's your good fortune +however that you've got to deal with one such as I am, for had it been +any one else barefaced and shameless, he would have come, twice every +three days, to worry you, uncle, by asking for two pints of rice and two +of beans, and you then, uncle, would have had no help for it." + +"My dear child," Pu Shih-jen exclaimed, "had I anything that I could +call my own, your uncle as I am, wouldn't I feel bound to do something +for you? I've day after day mentioned to your aunt that the misfortune +was that you had no resources. But should you ever succeed in making up +your mind, you should go into that mighty household of yours, and when +the gentlemen aren't looking, forthwith pocket your pride and hobnob +with those managers, or possibly with the butlers, as you may, even +through them, be able to get some charge or other! The other day, when I +was out of town, I came across that old Quartus of the third branch of +the family, astride of a tall donkey, at the head of four or five +carriages, in which were about forty to fifty bonzes and Taoist priests +on their way to the family fane, and that man can't lack brains, for +such a charge to have fallen to his share!" + +Chia Yuen, upon hearing these words, indulged in a long and revolting +rigmarole, and then got up to take his leave. + +"What are you in such a hurry for?" Pu Shih-jen remarked. "Have your +meal and then go!" + +But this remark was scarcely ended when they heard his wife say: "Are +you again in the clouds? When I heard that there was no rice, I bought +half a catty of dry rice paste, and brought it here for you to eat; and +do you pray now still put on the airs of a well-to-do, and keep your +nephew to feel the pangs of hunger?" + +"Well, then, buy half a catty more, and add to what there is, that's +all," Pu Shih-jen continued; whereupon her mother explained to her +daughter, Yin Chieh, "Go over to Mrs. Wang's opposite, and ask her if +she has any cash, to lend us twenty or thirty of them; and to-morrow, +when they're brought over, we'll repay her." + +But while the husband and wife were carrying on this conversation, Chia +Yuen had, at an early period, repeated several times: "There's no need to +go to this trouble," and off he went, leaving no trace or shadow behind. +But without passing any further remarks on the husband and wife of the +Pu family, we will now confine ourselves to Chia Yuen. Having gone in +high dudgeon out of the door of his uncle's house, he started straight +on his way back home; but while distressed in mind, and preoccupied with +his thoughts, he paced on with drooping head, he unexpectedly came into +collision with a drunken fellow, who gripped Chia Yuen, and began to +abuse him, crying: "Are your eyes gone blind, that you come bang against +me?" + +The tone of voice, when it reached Chia Yuen ears, sounded like that of +some one with whom he was intimate; and, on careful scrutiny, he found, +in fact, that it was his next-door neighbour, Ni Erh. This Ni Erh was a +dissolute knave, whose only idea was to give out money at heavy rates of +interest and to have his meals in the gambling dens. His sole delight +was to drink and to fight. + +He was, at this very moment, coming back home from the house of a +creditor, whom he had dunned, and was already far gone with drink, so +that when, at an unforeseen moment, Chia Yuen ran against him, he meant +there and then to start a scuffle with him. + +"Old Erh!" Chia Yuen shouted, "stay your hand; it's I who have hustled +against you." + +As soon as Ni Erh heard the tone of his voice, he opened wide his +drunken eyes and gave him a look; and realising that it was Chia Yuen, he +hastened to loosen his grasp and to remark with a smile, as he staggered +about, "Is it you indeed, master Chia Secundus? where were you off to +now?" + +"I couldn't tell you!" Chia Yuen rejoined; "I've again brought +displeasure upon me, and all through no fault of mine." + +"Never mind!" urged Ni Erh, "if you're in any trouble you just tell me, +and I'll give vent to your spite for you; for in these three streets, +and six lanes, no matter who may give offence to any neighbours of mine, +of me, Ni Erh, the drunken Chin Kang, I'll wager that I compel that +man's family to disperse, and his home to break up!" + +"Old Ni, don't lose your temper," Chia Yuen protested, "but listen and +let me tell you what happened!" After which, he went on to tell Ni Erh +the whole affair with Pu Shih-jen. As soon as Ni Erh heard him, he got +into a frightful rage; "Were he not," he shouted, a "relative of yours, +master Secundus, I would readily give him a bit of my mind! Really +resentment will stifle my breath! but never mind! you needn't however +distress yourself. I've got here a few taels ready at hand, which, if +you require, don't scruple to take; and from such good neighbours as you +are, I won't ask any interest upon this money." + +With this remark still on his lips, he produced from his pouch a bundle +of silver. + +"Ni Erh has, it is true, ever been a rogue," Chia Yuen reflected in his +own mind, "but as he is regulated in his dealings by a due regard to +persons, he enjoys, to a great degree, the reputation of generosity; and +were I to-day not to accept this favour of his, he'll, I fear, be put to +shame; and it won't contrariwise be nice on my part! and isn't it better +that I should make use of his money, and by and by I can repay him +double, and things will be all right!" + +"Old Erh," he therefore observed aloud with a smile, "you're really a +fine fellow, and as you've shown me such eminent consideration, how can +I presume not to accept your offer! On my return home, I'll write the +customary I.O.U., and send it to you, and all will be in order." + +Ni Erh gave a broad grin. "It's only fifteen taels and three mace," he +answered, "and if you insist upon writing an I.O.U., I won't then lend +it to you!" + +Chia Yuen at these words, took over the money, smiling the while. "I'll +readily," he retorted, "comply with your wishes and have done; for +what's the use of exasperating you!" + +"Well then that will be all right!" Ni Erh laughed; "but the day is +getting dark; and I shan't ask you to have a cup of tea or stand you a +drink, for I've some small things more to settle. As for me, I'm going +over there, but you, after all, should please wend your way homewards; +and I shall also request you to take a message for me to my people. Tell +them to close the doors and turn in, as I'm not returning home; and that +in the event of anything occurring, to bid our daughter come over +to-morrow, as soon as it is daylight, to short-legged Wang's house, the +horse-dealer's, in search of me!" And as he uttered this remark he +walked away, stumbling and hobbling along. But we will leave him without +further notice and allude to Chia Yuen. + +He had, at quite an unexpected juncture, met this piece of luck, so that +his heart was, of course, delighted to the utmost degree. "This Ni Erh," +he mused, "is really a good enough sort of fellow, but what I dread is +that he may have been open-handed in his fit of drunkenness, and that he +mayn't, by and by, ask for his money to be paid twice over; and what +will I do then? Never mind," he suddenly went on to ponder, "when that +job has become an accomplished fact, I shall even have the means to pay +him back double the original amount." + +Prompted by this resolution, he came over to a money-shop, and when he +had the silver weighed, and no discrepancy was discovered in the weight, +he was still more elated at heart; and on his way back, he first and +foremost delivered Ni Erh's message to his wife, and then returned to +his own home, where he found his mother seated all alone on a +stove-couch spinning thread. As soon as she saw him enter, she inquired +where he had been the whole day long, in reply to which Chia Yuen, +fearing lest his parent should be angry, forthwith made no allusion to +what transpired with Pu Shih-jen, but simply explained that he had been +in the western mansion, waiting for his uncle Secundus, Lien. This over, +he asked his mother whether she had had her meal or not, and his parent +said by way of reply: "I've had it, but I've kept something for you in +there," and calling to the servant-maid, she bade her bring it round, +and set it before him to eat. But as it was already dark, when the lamps +had to be lit, Chia Yuen, after partaking of his meal, got ready and +turned in. + +Nothing of any notice transpired the whole night; but the next day, as +soon it was dawn, he got up, washed his face, and came to the main +street, outside the south gate, and purchasing some musk from a +perfumery shop, he, with rapid stride, entered the Jung Kuo mansion; and +having, as a result of his inquiries, found out that Chia Lien had gone +out of doors, Chia Yuen readily betook himself to the back, in front of +the door of Chia Lien's court, where he saw several servant-lads, with +immense brooms in their hands, engaged in that place in sweeping the +court. But as he suddenly caught sight of Chou Jui's wife appear outside +the door, and call out to the young boys; "Don't sweep now, our lady is +coming out," Chia Yuen eagerly walked up to her and inquired, with a face +beaming with smiles: "Where's aunt Secunda going to?" + +To this inquiry, Chou Jui's wife explained: "Our old lady has sent for +her, and I expect, it must be for her to cut some piece of cloth or +other." But while she yet spoke, they perceived a whole bevy of people, +pressing round lady Feng, as she egressed from the apartment. + +Chia Yuen was perfectly aware that lady Feng took pleasure in flattery, +and delighted in display, so that hastily dropping his arms, he with all +reverence, thrust himself forward and paid his respects to her. But lady +Feng did not even so much as turn to look at him with straight eyes; but +continued, as hitherto, her way onwards, simply confining herself to +ascertaining whether his mother was all right, and adding: "How is it +that she doesn't come to our house for a stroll?" + +"The thing is," Chia Yuen replied, "that she's not well: she, however, +often thinks fondly of you, aunt, and longs to see you; but as for +coming round, she's quite unable to do so." + +"You have, indeed, the knack of telling lies!" lady Feng laughed with +irony; "for hadn't I alluded to her, she would never have thought of +me!" + +"Isn't your nephew afraid," Chia Yuen protested smilingly, "of being +blasted by lightning to have the audacity of telling lies in the +presence of an elder! Even so late as yesterday evening, she alluded to +you, aunt! 'Though naturally,' she said, 'of a weak constitution, you +had, however, plenty to attend to! that it's thanks to your supremely +eminent energies, aunt, that you're, after all, able to manage +everything in such a perfect manner; and that had you ever made the +slightest slip, there would have long ago crept up, goodness knows, what +troubles!'" + +As soon as lady Feng heard these words, her whole face beamed with +smiles, and she unconsciously halted her steps, while she proceeded to +ask: "How is it that, both your mother and yourself, tattle about me +behind my back, without rhyme or reason?" + +"There's a reason for it," Chia Yuen observed, "which is simply this. +I've an excellent friend with considerable money of his own at home, who +recently kept a perfumery shop; but as he obtained, by purchase, the +rank of deputy sub-prefect, he was, the other day, selected for a post +in Yunnan, in some prefecture or other unknown to me; whither he has +gone together with his family. He even closed this shop of his, and +forthwith collecting all his wares, he gave away, what he could give +away, and what he had to sell at a discount, was sold at a loss; while +such valuable articles, as these, were all presented to relatives or +friends; and that's why it is that I came in for some baroos camphor and +musk. But I at the time, deliberated with my mother that to sell them +below their price would be a pity, and that if we wished to give them as +a present to any one, there was no one good enough to use such perfumes. +But remembering how you, aunt, had all along in years gone by, even to +this day, to spend large bundles of silver, in purchasing such articles, +and how, not to speak of this year with an imperial consort in the +Palace, what's even required for this dragon boat festival, will also +necessitate the addition of hundred times as much as the quantity of +previous years, I therefore present them to you, aunt, as a token of my +esteem!" + +With these words still on his lips, he simultaneously produced an +ornamented box, which he handed over to her. And as lady Feng was, at +this time, making preparations for presents for the occasion of the +dragon boat festival, for which perfumes were obligatory, she, with all +promptitude, directed Feng Erh: "Receive Mr. Yuen's present and take it +home and hand it over to P'ing Erh. To one," she consequently added, +"who seems to me so full of discrimination, it isn't a wonder that your +uncle is repeatedly alluding, and that he speaks highly of you; how that +you talk with all intelligence and that you have experience stored up in +your mind." + +Chia Yuen upon hearing this propitious language, hastily drew near one +step, and designedly asked: "Does really uncle often refer to me?" + +The moment lady Feng caught this question, she was at once inclined to +tell him all about the charge to be entrusted to him, but on second +thought, she again felt apprehensive lest she should be looked lightly +upon by him, by simply insinuating that she had promptly and needlessly +promised him something to do, so soon as she got a little scented ware; +and this consideration urged her to once more restrain her tongue, so +that she never made the slightest reference even to so much as one word +about his having been chosen to look after the works of planting the +flowers and trees. And after confining herself to making the first few +irrelevant remarks which came to her lips, she hastily betook herself +into dowager lady Chia's apartments. + +Chia Yuen himself did not feel as if he could very well advert to the +subject, with the result that he had no alternative but to retrace his +steps homewards. But as when he had seen Pao-yue the previous day, he had +asked him to go into the outer library and wait for him, he therefore +finished his meal and then once again entered the mansion and came over +into the I Hsia study, situated outside the ceremonial gate, over at old +lady Chia's part of the compound, where he discovered the two lads Ming +Yen, whose name had been changed into Pei Ming, and Chu Yo playing at +chess, and just arguing about the capture of a castle; and besides them, +Yin Ch'uan, Sao Hua, T'iao Yuen, Pan Ho, these four or five of them, up +to larks, stealing the young birds from the nests under the eaves of the +house. + +As soon as Chia Yuen entered the court, he stamped his foot and shouted, +"The monkeys are up to mischief! Here I am, I've come;" and when the +company of servant-boys perceived him, they one and all promptly +dispersed; while Chia Yuen walked into the library, and seating himself +at once in a chair, he inquired, "Has your master Secundus, Mr. Pao, +come down?" + +"He hasn't been down here at all to-day," Pei Ming replied, "but if you, +Mr. Secundus, have anything to tell him, I'll go and see what he's up to +for you." + +Saying this he there and then left the room; and Chia Yuen meanwhile gave +himself to the inspection of the pictures and nicknacks. But some +considerable time elapsed, and yet he did not see him arrive; and +noticing besides that the other lads had all gone to romp, he was just +plunged in a state of despondency, when he heard outside the door a +voice cry out, with winning tone, and tender accents: "My elder +brother!" + +Chia Yuen looked out, and saw that it was a servant-maid of fifteen or +sixteen, who was indeed extremely winsome and spruce. As soon however as +the maid caught a glimpse of Chia Yuen, she speedily turned herself round +and withdrew out of sight. But, as luck would have it, it happened that +Pei Ming was coming along, and seeing the servant-maid in front of the +door, he observed: "Welcome, welcome! I was quite at a loss how to get +any news of Pao-yue." And as Chia Yuen discerned Pei Ming, he hastily too, +ran out in pursuit of him, and ascertained what was up; whereupon Pei +Ming returned for answer: "I waited a whole day long, and not a single +soul came over; but this girl is attached to master Secundus' (Mr. +Pao's) rooms!" and, "My dear girl," he consequently went on to say, "go +in and take a message. Say that Mr. Secundus, who lives under the +portico, has come!" + +The servant-maid, upon hearing these words, knew at once that he was a +young gentleman belonging to the family in which she served, and she did +not skulk out of sight, as she had done in the first instance; but with +a gaze sufficient to kill, she fixed her two eyes upon Chia Yuen, when +she heard Chia Yuen interpose: "What about over the portico and under the +portico; you just tell him that Yuen Erh is come, that's all." + +After a while this girl gave a sarcastic smile. "My idea is," she +ventured, "that you, master Secundus, should really, if it so please +you, go back, and come again to-morrow; and to-night, if I find time, +I'll just put in a word with him!" + +"What's this that you're driving at?" Pei Ming then shouted. + +And the maid rejoined: "He's not even had a siesta to-day, so that he'll +have his dinner at an early hour, and won't come down again in the +evening; and is it likely that you would have master Secundus wait here +and suffer hunger? and isn't it better than he should return home? The +right thing is that he should come to-morrow; for were even by and by +some one to turn up, who could take a message, that person would simply +acquiesce with the lips, but would he be willing to deliver the message +in for you?" + +Chia Yuen, upon finding how concise and yet how well expressed this +girl's remarks had been, was bent upon inquiring what her name was; but +as she was a maid employed in Pao-yue's apartments, he did not therefore +feel justified in asking the question, and he had no other course but to +add, "What you say is quite right, I'll come to-morrow!" and as he +spoke, he there and then was making his way outside, when Pei Ming +remarked: "I'll go and pour a cup of tea; and master Secundus, have your +tea and then go." + +Chia Yuen turned his head round, as he kept on his way, and said by way +of rejoinder: "I won't have any tea; for I've besides something more to +attend to!" and while with his lips he uttered these words, he, with his +eyes, stared at the servant-girl, who was still standing in there. + +Chia Yuen wended his steps straightway home; and the next day, he came to +the front entrance, where, by a strange coincidence, he met lady Feng on +her way to the opposite side to pay her respects. She had just mounted +her carriage, but perceiving Chia Yuen arrive, she eagerly bade a servant +stop him, and, with the window between them, she smiled and observed: +"Yuen Erh, you're indeed bold in playing your pranks with me! I thought +it strange that you should give me presents; but the fact is you had a +favour to ask of me; and your uncle told me even yesterday that you had +appealed to him!" + +Chia Yuen smiled. "Of my appeal to uncle, you needn't, aunt, make any +mention; for I'm at this moment full of regret at having made it. Had I +known, at an early hour, that things would have come to this pass, I +would, from the very first, have made my request to you, aunt; and by +this time everything would have been settled long ago! But who would +have anticipated that uncle was, after all, a man of no worth!" + +"Strange enough," lady Feng remarked sneeringly, "when you found that +you didn't succeed in that quarter, you came again yesterday in search +of me!" + +"Aunt, you do my filial heart an injustice," Chia Yuen protested; "I +never had such a thought; had I entertained any such idea, wouldn't I, +aunt, have made my appeal to you yesterday? But as you are now aware of +everything, I'll really put uncle on one side, and prefer my request to +you; for circumstances compel me to entreat you, aunt, to be so good as +to show me some little consideration!" + +Lady Feng laughed sardonically. "You people will choose the long road to +follow and put me also in a dilemma! Had you told me just one word at an +early hour, what couldn't have been brought about? an affair of state +indeed to be delayed up to this moment! In the garden, there are to be +more trees planted and flowers laid down, and I couldn't think of any +person that I could have recommended, and had you spoken before this, +wouldn't the whole question have been settled soon enough?" + +"Well, in that case, aunt," ventured Chia Yuen with a smile, "you had +better depute me to-morrow, and have done!" + +"This job," continued lady Feng after a pause, "is not, my impression +is, very profitable; and if you were to wait till the first moon of next +year, when the fireworks, lanterns, and candles will have to be +purveyed, I'll depute you as soon as those extensive commissions turn +up." + +"My dear aunt," pleaded Chia Yuen, "first appoint me to this one, and if +I do really manage this satisfactorily, you can then commission me with +that other!" + +"You know in truth how to draw a long thread," lady Feng observed +laughing. "But hadn't it been that your uncle had spoken to me on your +account, I wouldn't have concerned myself about you. But as I shall +cross over here soon after the repast, you had better come at eleven +a.m., and fetch the money, for you to enter into the garden the day +after to-morrow, and have the flowers planted!" + +As she said this, she gave orders to drive the "scented" carriage, and +went on her way by the quickest cut; while Chia Yuen, who was +irrepressibly delighted, betook himself into the I Hsia study, and +inquired after Pao-yue. But, who would have thought it, Pao-yue had, at an +early hour, gone to the mansion of the Prince of Pei Ching, so that Chia +Yuen had to sit in a listless mood till noon; and when he found out that +lady Feng had returned, he speedily wrote an acknowledgment and came to +receive the warrant. On his arrival outside the court, he commissioned a +servant to announce him, and Ts'ai Ming thereupon walked out, and merely +asking for the receipt, went in, and, after filling in the amount, the +year and moon, he handed it over to Chia Yuen together with the warrant. +Chia Yuen received them from him, and as the entry consisted of two +hundred taels, his heart was full of exultant joy; and turning round, he +hurried to the treasury, where after he had taken over the amount in +silver, he returned home and laid the case before his mother, and +needless to say, that both the parent and her son were in high spirits. +The next day, at the fifth watch, Chia Yun first came in search of Ni +Erh, to whom he repaid the money, and then taking fifty taels along with +him, he sped outside the western gate to the house of Fang Ch'un, a +gardener, to purchase trees, where we will leave him without saying +anything more about him. + +We will now resume our story with Pao-yue. The day on which he +encountered Chia Yuen, he asked him to come in on the morrow and have a +chat with him, but this invitation was practically the mere formal talk +of a rich and well-to-do young man, and was not likely to be so much as +borne in mind; and so it was that it readily slipped from his memory. On +the evening of the day, however, on which he returned home from the +mansion of the Prince Pei Ching, he came, after paying his salutations +to dowager lady Chia, madame Wang, and the other inmates, back into the +garden; but upon divesting himself of all his fineries, he was just +about to have his bath, when, as Hsi Jen had, at the invitation of Hsueeh +Pao-ch'ai, crossed over to tie a few knotted buttons, as Ch'in Wen and +Pi Hen had both gone to hurry the servants to bring the water, as T'an +Yun had likewise been taken home, on account of her mother's illness, +and She Yueh, on the other hand, was at present ailing in her quarters, +while the several waiting-maids, who were in there besides to attend to +the dirty work, and answer the calls, had, surmising that he would not +requisition their services, one and all gone out in search of their +friends and in quest of their companions, it occurred, contrary to their +calculations, that Pao-yue remained this whole length of time quite alone +in his apartments; and as it so happened that Pao-yue wanted tea to +drink, he had to call two or three times before he at last saw three old +matrons walk in. But at the sight of them, Pao-yue hastily waved his hand +and exclaimed: "No matter, no matter; I don't want you," whereupon the +matrons had no help but to withdraw out of the rooms; and as Pao-yue +perceived that there were no waiting-maids at hand, he had to come down +and take a cup and go up to the teapot to pour the tea; when he heard +some one from behind him observe: "Master Secundus, beware, you'll +scorch your hand; wait until I come to pour it!" And as she spoke, she +walked up to him, and took the cup from his grasp, to the intense +surprise, in fact, of Pao-yue, who inquired: "Where were you that you +have suddenly come to give me a start?" + +The waiting-maid smiled as she handed him the tea. "I was in the back +court," she replied, "and just came in from the back door of the inner +rooms; and is it likely that you didn't, sir, hear the sound of my +footsteps?" + +Pao-yue drank his tea, and as he simultaneously passed the servant-girl +under a minute inspection, he found that though she wore several +articles of clothing the worse for wear, she was, nevertheless, with +that head of beautiful hair, as black as the plumage of a raven, done up +in curls, her face so oblong, her figure so slim and elegant, indeed, +supremely beautiful, sweet, and spruce, and Pao-yue eagerly inquired: +"Are you also a girl attached to this room of mine?" + +"I am," rejoined that waiting-maid. + +"But since you belong to this room, how is it I don't know you?" Pao-yue +added. + +When the maid heard these words, she forced a laugh. "There are even +many," she explained, "that are strangers to you; and is it only myself? +I've never, before this, served tea, or handed water, or brought in +anything; nor have I attended to a single duty in your presence, so how +could you know me?" + +"But why don't you attend to any of those duties that would bring you to +my notice?" Pao-yue questioned. + +"I too," answered the maid, "find it as difficult to answer such a +question. There's however one thing that I must report to you, master +Secundus. Yesterday, some Mr. Yuen Erh or other came to see you; but as I +thought you, sir, had no leisure, I speedily bade Pei Ming tell him to +come early to-day. But you unexpectedly went over again to the mansion +of the Prince of Pei Ching." + +When she had spoken as far as this, she caught sight of Ch'iu Wen and Pi +Hen enter the court, giggling and laughing; the two of them carrying +between them a bucket of water; and while raising their skirts with one +hand, they hobbled along, as the water spurted and plashed. The +waiting-maid hastily come out to meet them so as to relieve them of +their burden, but Ch'iu Wen and Pi Hen were in the act of standing face +to face and finding fault with each other; one saying, "You've wetted my +clothes," the other adding, "You've trod on my shoes," and upon, all of +a sudden, espying some one walk out to receive the water, and +discovering, when they came to see, that it was actually no one else +than Hsiao Hung, they were at once both so taken aback that, putting +down the bucket, they hurried into the room; and when they looked about +and saw that there was no other person inside besides Pao-yue they were +at once displeased. But as they were meanwhile compelled to get ready +the articles necessary for his bath, they waited until Pao-yue was about +to divest himself of his clothes, when the couple of them speedily +pulled the door to behind them, as they went out, and walked as far as +the room on the opposite side, in search of Hsiao Hung; of whom they +inquired: "What were you doing in his room a short while back?" + +"When was I ever in the room?" Hsiao Hung replied; "simply because I +lost sight of my handkerchief, I went to the back to try and find it, +when unexpectedly Mr. Secundus, who wanted tea, called for you sisters; +and as there wasn't one even of you there, I walked in and poured a cup +for him, and just at that very moment you sisters came back." + +"You barefaced, low-bred thing!" cried Ch'iu Wen, turning towards her +and spurting in her face. "It was our bounden duty to tell you to go and +hurry them for the water, but you simply maintained that you were busy +and made us go instead, in order to afford you an opportunity of +performing these wily tricks! and isn't this raising yourself up li by +li? But don't we forsooth, even so much as come up to you? and you just +take that looking-glass and see for yourself, whether you be fit to +serve tea and to hand water or not?" + +"To-morrow," continued Pi Hea, "I'll tell them that whenever there's +anything to do connected with his wanting tea, or asking for water, or +with fetching things for him, not one of us should budge, and that +_she_ alone should be allowed to go, and have done!" + +"If this be your suggestion," remarked Ch'iu Wen, "wouldn't it be still +better that we should all disperse, and let her reign supreme in this +room!" + +But while the two of them were up to this trouble, one saying one thing, +and another, another, they caught sight of two old nurses walk in to +deliver a message from lady Feng; who explained: "To-morrow, someone +will bring in gardeners to plant trees, and she bids you keep under more +rigorous restraint, and not sun your clothes and petticoats anywhere and +everywhere; nor air them about heedlessly; that the artificial hill +will, all along, be entirely shut in by screening curtains, and that you +mustn't he running about at random." + +"I wonder," interposed Ch'iu Wen with alacrity, "who it is that will +bring the workmen to-morrow, and supervise the works?" + +"Some one or other called Mr. Yuen, living at the back portico," the old +woman observed. + +But Ch'iu Wen and Pi Hen were neither of them acquainted with him, and +they went on promiscuously asking further questions on his account, but +Hsiao Hung knew distinctly in her mind who it was, and was well aware +that it was the person whom she had seen, the previous day, in the outer +library. + +The surname of this Hsiao Hung had, in fact, been originally Lin, while +her infant name had been Hung Yue; but as the word Yue improperly +corresponded with the names of Pao-yue and Tai-yue, she was, in due +course, simply called Hsiao Hung. She was indeed an hereditary servant +of the mansion; and her father had latterly taken over the charge of all +matters connected with the farms and farmhouses in every locality. This +Hung-yue came, at the age of sixteen, into the mansion, to enter into +service, and was attached to the Hung Yuan, where in point of fact she +found both a quiet and pleasant home; and when contrary to all +expectation, the young ladies as well as Pao-yue, were subsequently +permitted to move their quarters into the garden of Broad Vista, it so +happened that this place was, moreover, fixed upon by Pao-yue. This Hsiao +Hung was, it is true, a girl without any experience, but as she could, +to a certain degree, boast of a pretty face, and as, in her own heart, +she recklessly fostered the idea of exalting herself to a higher +standard, she was ever ready to thrust herself in Pao-yue's way, with a +view to showing herself off. But attached to Pao-yue's personal service +were a lot of servants, all of whom were glib and specious, so that how +could she ever find an opportunity of thrusting herself forward? But +contrary to her anticipations, there turned up, eventually on this day, +some faint glimmer of hope, but as she again came in for a spell of +spiteful abuse from Ch'iu Wen and her companion, her expectations were +soon considerably frustrated, and she was just plunged in a melancholy +mood, when suddenly she heard the old nurse begin the conversation about +Chia Yuen, which unconsciously so affected her heart that she hastily +returned, quite disconsolate, into her room, and lay herself down on her +bed, giving herself quietly to reflection. But while she was racking and +torturing her brain and at a moment when she was at a loss what decision +to grasp, her ear unexpectedly caught, emanating from outside the +window, a faint voice say: "Hsiao Hung, I've picked up your pocket +handkerchief in here!" and as soon as Hsiao Hung heard these words, she +walked out with hurried step and found that it was no one else than Chia +Yuen in person; and as Hsiao Hung unwillingly felt her powdered face +suffused with brushes: "Where did you pick it up, Mr. Secundus?" she +asked. + +"Come over," Chia Yuen smiled, "and I'll tell you!" And as he uttered +these words, he came up and drew her to him; but Hsiao Hung twisted +herself round and ran away; but was however tripped over by the step of +the door. + +Now, reader, do you want to know the sequel? If so the next chapter will +explain. + + + + +END OF BOOK I + + + + + + + ERRATA [as noted in the original book]. + + + Preface rhythm not rhymes + + Chap. I Page 7 Line 30 on _not_ in + " " " 13 " 11 _dele_ he + " II " 22 " 18 Yue-ts'un _not_ Y-tues'un + " " " 22 " 25 dele _one_ the + " " " 30 " 14 imbued with _not_ by + " III " 50 " 33 rhythm _not_ rythm + " IV " 64 " 27 _dele_ as _and read:_ and his + widowed mother etc. + " " " 65 " 3 _dele_ in _and read_: while the + rest of his + " V " 80 " 23 monitory _not_ Monotony + " " " 87 " 21 fervour _not_ favour + " VI " 92 " 20 bonzes _not_ bonze + " " " 93 " 1 _Read_: Ai-ya, exclaimed old Goody; + It may very well be said that the + marquis' door etc. + " " " 99 " 4 _read_: a la Chao Chuen + " VII " 114 " 13 Chia Jung _not_ Ch'ia Jung + " " " 119 " 10 steward _not_ setward + " IX " 140 " 10 whiff _not_ wiff + " " " 141 " 26 roll _not_ rollster + " X " 157 " 16 action _not_ actions + " XIII " 196 " 23 in the fear _not_ in fear + " XIV " 199 " 39 roll _not_ rollster + " XV " 215 " 23 preparations _not_ preparation + " XVI " 231 " 22 But these words _not_ But that these + words etc. + " " " 238 " 33 roll _not_ rollester + " XVIII " 270 " 11 _delete_ he + " " " 270 " 40 otter _not_ other + " " " 280 " 20 roll _not_ rollster + " XIX " 290 " 15 _supply_ 'the' _before_ milk + " XX " 304 " 39 _read_: lying down, and she felt etc. + " XXI " 321 " 35 though he was _not_ were + " " " 324 " 12 _supply_ 'with' _after_ fumbling + " XXIII " 331 " 32 _read_: a fancy to _not_ for + " " " 338 " 13 _supply_ 'himself' _after_ + laying + " XXIII " 349 " 38 him _not_ her + " " " 353 " 39 devotes his energies to _not_ upon + " " " 361 " 1 felt _not_ fell + " " " 371 " 21 lips _not_ slips + + + + ERRATA [additional ones caught during Project Gutenberg proofreading.] + + Chap. I Page 3 Line 23: mustn't _not_ must'nt + II " 29 " 33: tranquility _not_ tranquilty + III " 44 " 2: library _not_ litrary + III " 50 " 18: neck _not_ neek + III " 50 " 19: ornaments _not_ ormaments + V " 70 " 26: consistency _not_ consisteney + V " 73 " 13: "daughter, Shou Ch'ang" _not_ + "daughter. Shou Ch'ang" + V " 86 " 15: haven't _not_ have'nt + VI " 95 " 20: You've _not_ Youv'e + VI " 95 " 34: it's _not_ its + VI " 96 " 2: come _not_ came + VII " 114 " 14: Isn't _not_ Is'nt + VIII " 121 " 17: subsequently _not_ subequently + IX " 145 " 1: consternation _not_ conternation + X " 155 " 37: night's _not_ night't + XI " 167 " 28: Isn't _not_ Is'nt + XII " 179 " 1: insistence _not_ insistance + XII " 182 " 33: affectionate _not_ affectunate + XIII " 198 " 37: roll _not_ rollster + XIV " 203 " 22: Ts'ai's _not_ T'sai's + XIV " 206 " 1: exclaimed _not_ exclained + XV " 218 " 21: each _not_ eaeh + XVI " 226 " 34: pupil _not_ purpil + XVII " 249 " 35: intertwine _not_ interwine + XVII " 252 " 29: isn't _not_ is'nt + XVII " 255 " 15: and _not_ aud + XVII " 260 " 35: unexpectedly _not_ unexpectly + XVIII " 280 " 20: roll _not_ rollster + XX " 315 " 12: three)." _not_ three." + XXI " 329 " 31: Isn't _not_ Is'nt + XXII " 341 " 11: hasn't _not_ has'nt + XXII " 344 " 16: enjoy _not_ injoy + XXII " 346 " 6: meetest _not_ metest + XXII " 346 " 20: Isn't _not_ Is'nt + XXIII " 349 " 10: difficulties _not_ diffiulties + XXIII " 356 " 1: autumnal _not_ autummal + XXIII " 356 " 41: manuscripts _not_ manscripts + XXIV " 364 " 38: back," _not_ back, + XXIV " 368 " 19: neighbours _not_ neighours + XXIV " 377 " 17: opportunity _not_ apportunity + + +[Notes on Project Gutenberg edition. The original Chinese novel was +written by Cao Xueqin. Another author later added half again as much. H. +Bencraft Joly translated only the work of the first author, essentially +two-thirds of the whole; the work ends abruptly at the end of volume II +as if he intended to go on, but the third volume was never published. +The work was not well proofread originally. There are other better and +more complete English translations, but this is the only one we could +find that is in the public domain in the USA. + +Both lists of errata have been corrected in the text. The error noted +in the original errata list as being on page 140 was actually on page +145. There were far too many punctuation errata that were corrected, +to list them all here. + +There IS such a word as 'teapoy'; it is NOT 'teapot' and it means a +three-legged table. 'Dullness' was consistently spelled 'dulness' and is +left thus. 'Decrepit' was consistently spelled 'decrepid' and is left +thus. 'Dote, dotes,' etc. was consistently spelled 'doat, doats,' etc. +and is left thus. 'License' is spelled once thus and once 'licence.' The +word 'speciality' appears only once, and that is the proper British +spelling. + +Whenever a proper name normally contained an umlaut we attempted to +supply it in the instances where it was missing; this was most common +with the name Pao-yue. There were also variations of use of apostrophes +in proper names, and many were corrected. Neither of these is +listed in the errata above.] + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HUNG LOU MENG, BOOK I *** + +This file should be named 7hlm110.txt or 7hlm110.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7hlm111.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7hlm110a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Hung Lou Meng, Book II + +Author: Cao Xueqin + +Release Date: January, 2006 [EBook #9604] +[This file was first posted on October 9, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HUNG LOU MENG, BOOK II *** + + + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland and Project Gutenberg Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + + + +Editors note: This novel is divided into two books, of which this is + Book II. Book I (7hlm110.txt, 7hlm110.zip, 8hlm110.txt, + or 8hllm110.zip) will be found in our etext05 directory + (http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext05/). + + + + +HUNG LOU MENG, BOOK II + +OR, THE DREAM OF THE RED CHAMBER, A CHINESE NOVEL IN TWO BOOKS + +BY + +CAO XUEQIN + +Translated by H. BENCRAFT JOLY + +H.B.M. CONSULAR SERVICE, CHINA. + + + + + + + +BOOK II + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + By a demoniacal art, a junior uncle and an elder brother's wife + (Pao-yue and lady Feng) come across five devils. + The gem of Spiritual Perception meets, in a fit of torpor, the two + perfect men. + + +Hsiao Hung, the story continues, was much unsettled in her mind. Her +thoughts rolled on in one connected string. But suddenly she became +drowsy, and falling asleep, she encountered Chia Yuen, who tried to carry +out his intention to drag her near him. She twisted herself round, and +endeavoured to run away; but was tripped over by the doorstep. This gave +her such a start that she woke up. Then, at length, she realised that it +was only a dream. But so restlessly did she, in consequence of this +fright, keep on rolling and tossing that she could not close her eyes +during the whole night. As soon as the light of the next day dawned, she +got up. Several waiting-maids came at once to tell her to go and sweep +the floor of the rooms, and to bring water to wash the face with. Hsiao +Hung did not even wait to arrange her hair or perform her ablutions; +but, turning towards the looking-glass, she pinned her chevelure up +anyhow; and, rinsing her hands, and, tying a sash round her waist, she +repaired directly to sweep the apartments. + +Who would have thought it, Pao-yue also had set his heart upon her the +moment he caught sight of her the previous day. Yet he feared, in the +first place, that if he mentioned her by name and called her over into +his service, Hsi Jen and the other girls might feel the pangs of +jealousy. He did not, either in the second place, have any idea what her +disposition was like. The consequence was that he felt downcast; so much +so, that when he got up at an early hour, he did not even comb his hair +or wash, but simply remained seated, and brooded in a state of +abstraction. After a while, he lowered the window. Through the gauze +frame, from which he could distinctly discern what was going on outside, +he espied several servant-girls, engaged in sweeping the court. All of +them were rouged and powdered; they had flowers inserted in their hair, +and were grandly got up. But the only one, of whom he failed to get a +glimpse, was the girl he had met the day before. + +Pao-yue speedily walked out of the door with slipshod shoes. Under the +pretence of admiring the flowers, he glanced, now towards the east; now +towards the west. But upon raising his head, he descried, in the +southwest corner, some one or other leaning by the side of the railing +under the covered passage. A crab-apple tree, however, obstructed the +view and he could not see distinctly who it was, so advancing a step +further in, he stared with intent gaze. It was, in point of fact, the +waiting-maid of the day before, tarrying about plunged in a reverie. His +wish was to go forward and meet her, but he did not, on the other hand, +see how he could very well do so. Just as he was cogitating within +himself, he, of a sudden, perceived Pi Hen come and ask him to go and +wash his face. This reminder placed him under the necessity of betaking +himself into his room. But we will leave him there, without further +details, so as to return to Hsiao Hung. + +She was communing with her own thoughts. But unawares perceiving Hsi Jen +wave her hand and call her by name, she had to walk up to her. + +"Our watering-pot is spoilt," Hsi Jen smiled and said, "so go to Miss +Lin's over there and find one for us to use." + +Hsiao Hung hastened on her way towards the Hsiao Hsiang Kuan. + +When she got as far as the Ts'ui Yen bridge, she saw, on raising her +head and looking round, the mounds and lofty places entirely shut in by +screens, and she bethought herself that labourers were that day to plant +trees in that particular locality. + +At a great distance off, a band of men were, in very deed, engaged in +digging up the soil, while Chia Yuen was seated on a boulder on the hill, +superintending the works. The time came for Hsiao Hung to pass by, but +she could not muster the courage to do so. Nevertheless she had no other +course than to quietly proceed to the Hsiao Hsiang Kuan. Then getting +the watering-pot, she sped on her way back again. But being in low +spirits, she retired alone into her room and lay herself down. One and +all, however, simply maintained that she was out of sorts, so they did +not pay any heed to her. + +A day went by. On the morrow fell, in fact, the anniversary of the birth +of Wang Tzu-t'eng's spouse, and some one was despatched from his +residence to come and invite dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang. Madame +Wang found out however that dowager lady Chia would not avail herself of +the invitation, and neither would she go. So Mrs. Hsueeh went along with +lady Feng, and the three sisters of the Chia family, and Pao-ch'ai and +Pao-yue, and only returned home late in the evening. + +Madame Wang was sitting in Mrs. Hsueeh's apartments, whither she had just +crossed, when she perceived Chia Huan come back from school, and she +bade him transcribe incantations out of the Chin Kang Canon and intonate +them. Chia Huan accordingly came and seated himself on the stove-couch, +occupied by Madame Wang, and, directing a servant to light the candles, +he started copying in an ostentatious and dashing manner. Now he called +Ts'ai Hsia to pour a cup of tea for him. Now he asked Yu Ch'uan to take +the scissors and cut the snuff of the wick. "Chin Ch'uan!" he next +cried, "you're in the way of the rays of the lamp." + +The servant-girls had all along entertained an antipathy for him, and +not one of them therefore worried her mind about what he said. Ts'ai +Hsia was the only one who still got on well with him, so pouring a cup +of tea, she handed it to him. But she felt prompted to whisper to him: +"Keep quiet a bit! what's the use of making people dislike you?" + +"I know myself how matters stand," Chia Huan rejoined, as he cast a +steady glance at her; "so don't you try and befool me! Now that you are +on intimate terms with Pao-yue, you don't pay much heed to me. I've also +seen through it myself." + +Ts'ai Hsiao set her teeth together, and gave him a fillip on the head. +"You heartless fellow!" she cried. "You're like the dog, that bit Lue +T'ung-pin. You have no idea of what's right and what's wrong!" + +While these two nagged away, they noticed lady Feng and Madame Wang +cross together over to them. Madame Wang at once assailed him with +questions. She asked him how many ladies had been present on that day, +whether the play had been good or bad, and what the banquet had been +like. + +But a brief interval over, Pao-yue too appeared on the scene. After +saluting Madame Wang, he also made a few remarks, with all decorum; and +then bidding a servant remove his frontlet, divest him of his long gown +and pull off his boots, he rushed head foremost, into his mother's lap. + +Madame Wang caressed and patted him. But while Pao-yue clung to his +mother's neck, he spoke to her of one thing and then another. + +"My child," said Madame Wang, "you've again had too much to drink; your +face is scalding hot, and if you still keep on rubbing and scraping it, +why, you'll by and bye stir up the fumes of wine! Don't you yet go and +lie down quietly over there for a little!" + +Chiding him the while, she directed a servant to fetch a pillow. Pao-yue +therefore lay himself down at the back of Madame Wang, and called Ts'ai +Hsia to come and stroke him. + +Pao-yue then began to bandy words with Ts'ai Hsia. But perceiving that +Ts'ai Hsia was reserved, and, that instead of paying him any attention, +she kept her eyes fixed upon Chia Huan, Pao-yue eagerly took her hand. +"My dear girl!" he said; "do also heed me a little;" and as he gave +utterance to this appeal, he kept her hand clasped in his. + +Ts'ai Hsia, however, drew her hand away and would not let him hold it. +"If you go on in this way," she vehemently exclaimed, "I'll shout out at +once." + +These two were in the act of wrangling, when verily Chia Huan overheard +what was going on. He had, in fact, all along hated Pao-yue; so when on +this occasion, he espied him up to his larks with Ts'ai Hsia, he could +much less than ever stifle feelings of resentment in his heart. After +some reflection, therefore, an idea suggested itself to his mind, and +pretending that it was by a slip of the hand, he shoved the candle, +overflowing with tallow, into Pao-yue's face. + +"Ai ya!" Pao-yue was heard to exclaim. Every one in the whole room was +plunged in consternation. With precipitate haste, the lanterns, standing +on the floor, were moved over; and, with the first ray of light, they +discovered that Pao-yue's face was one mass of tallow. + +Madame Wang gave way to anger as well as anxiety. At one time, she +issued directions to the servants to rub and wash Pao-yue clean. At +another, she heaped abuse upon Chia Huan. + +Lady Feng jumped on to the stone-couch by leaps and bounds. But while +intent upon removing the stuff from Pao-yue's face, she simultaneously +ejaculated: "Master Tertius, are you still such a trickster! I'll tell +you what, you'll never turn to any good account! Yet dame Chao should +ever correct and admonish him." + +This single remark suggested the idea to Madame Wang, and she lost no +time in sending for Mrs. Chao to come round. + +"You bring up," she berated her, "such a black-hearted offspring like +this, and don't you, after all, advise and reprove him? Time and again I +paid no notice whatever to what happened, and you and he have become +more audacious, and have gone from worse to worse!" + +Mrs. Chao had no alternative but to suppress every sense of injury, +silence all grumblings, and go herself and lend a hand to the others in +tidying Pao-yue. She then perceived that a whole row of blisters had +risen on the left side of Pao-yue's face, but that fortunately no injury +had been done to his eyes. + +When Madame Wang's attention was drawn to them she felt her heart sore. +It fell a prey to fears also lest when dowager lady Chia made any +inquiries about them she should find it difficult to give her any +satisfactory reply. And so distressed did she get that she gave Mrs. +Chao another scolding. But while she tried to comfort Pao-yue, she, at +the same time, fetched some powder for counteracting the effects of the +virus, and applied it on his face. + +"It's rather sore," said Pao-yue, "but it's nothing to speak of. Tomorrow +when my old grandmother asks about it, I can simply explain that I +scalded it myself; that will be quite enough to tell her." + +"If you say that you scalded it yourself," lady Feng observed, "why, +she'll also call people to task for not looking out; and a fit of rage +will, beyond doubt, be the outcome of it all." + +Madame Wang then ordered the servants to take care and escort Pao-yue +back to his room. On their arrival, Hsi Jen and his other attendants saw +him, and they were all in a great state of flurry. + +As for Lin Tai-yue, when she found that Pao-yue had gone out of doors, she +continued the whole day a prey to ennui. In the evening, she deputed +messengers two and three times to go and inquire about him. But when she +came to know that he had been scalded, she hurried in person to come and +see him. She then discovered Pao-yue all alone, holding a glass and +scanning his features in it; while the left side of his face was +plastered all over with some medicine. + +Lin Tai-yue imagined that the burn was of an extremely serious nature, +and she hastened to approach him with a view to examine it. Pao-yue, +however, screened his face, and, waving his hand, bade her leave the +room; for knowing her usual knack for tidiness he did not feel inclined +to let her get a glimpse of his face. Tai-yue then gave up the attempt, +and confined herself to asking him: "whether it was very painful?" + +"It isn't very sore," replied Pao-yue, "if I look after it for a day or +two, it will get all right." + +But after another short stay, Lin Tai-yue repaired back to her quarters. + +The next day Pao-yue saw dowager lady Chia. But in spite of his +confession that he himself was responsible for the scalding of his face, +his grandmother could not refrain from reading another lecture to the +servants who had been in attendance. + +A day after, Ma, a Taoist matron, whose name was recorded as Pao-yue's +godmother, came on a visit to the mansion. Upon perceiving Pao-yue, she +was very much taken aback, and asked all about the circumstances of the +accident. When he explained that he had been scalded, she forthwith +shook her head and heaved a sigh; then while making with her fingers a +few passes over Pao-yue's face, she went on to mutter incantations for +several minutes. "I can guarantee that he'll get all right," she added, +"for this is simply a sadden and fleeting accident!" + +Turning towards dowager lady Chia: "Venerable ancestor," she observed, +"Venerable Buddha! how could you ever be aware of the existence of the +portentous passage in that Buddhistic classic, 'to the effect that a son +of every person, who holds the dignity of prince, duke or high +functionary, has no sooner come into the world and reached a certain age +than numerous evil spirits at once secretly haunt him, and pinch him, +when they find an opportunity; or dig their nails into him; or knock his +bowl of rice down, during, meal-time; or give him a shove and send him +over, while he is quietly seated.' So this is the reason why the +majority of the sons and grandsons of those distinguished families do +not grow up to attain manhood." + +Dowager lady Chia, upon hearing her speak in this wise, eagerly asked: +"Is there any Buddhistic spell, by means of which to check their +influence or not?" + +"This is an easy job!" rejoined the Taoist matron Ma, "all one need do +is to perform several meritorious deeds on his account so as to +counteract the consequences of retribution and everything will then be +put right. That canon further explains: 'that in the western part of the +world there is a mighty Buddha, whose glory illumines all things, and +whose special charge is to cast his lustre on the evil spirits in dark +places; that if any benevolent man or virtuous woman offers him +oblations with sincerity of heart, he is able to so successfully +perpetuate the peace and quiet of their sons and grandsons that these +will no more meet with any calamities arising from being possessed by +malevolent demons.'" + +"But what, I wonder," inquired dowager lady Chia, "could be offered to +this god?" + +"Nothing of any great value," answered the Taoist matron, Ma. "Exclusive +of offerings of scented candles, several catties of scented oil can be +added, each day, to keep the lantern of the Great Sea alight. This +'Great Sea' lantern is the visible embodiment and Buddhistic +representation of this divinity, so day and night we don't venture to +let it go out!" + +"For a whole day and a whole night," asked dowager lady Chia, "how much +oil is needed, so that I too should accomplish a good action?" + +"There is really no limit as to quantity. It rests upon the goodwill of +the donor," Ma, the Taoist matron, put in by way of reply. "In my +quarters, for instance, I have several lanterns, the gifts of the +consorts of princes and the spouses of high officials living in various +localities. The consort of the mansion of the Prince of Nan Au has been +prompted in her beneficence by a liberal spirit; she allows each day +forty-eight catties of oil, and a catty of wick; so that her 'Great Sea' +lamp is only a trifle smaller than a water-jar. The spouse of the +marquis of Chin Hsiang comes next, with no more than twenty catties a +day. Besides these, there are several other families; some giving ten +catties; some eight catties; some three; some five; subject to no fixed +rule; and of course I feel bound to keep the lanterns alight on their +behalf." + +Dowager lady Chia nodded her head and gave way to reflection. + +"There's still another thing," continued the Taoist matron, Ma. "If it +be on account of father or mother or seniors, any excessive donation +would not matter. But were you, venerable ancestor, to bestow too much +in your offering for Pao-yue, our young master won't, I fear, be equal to +the gift; and instead of being benefited, his happiness will be snapped. +If you therefore want to make a liberal gift seven catties will do; if a +small one, then five catties will even be sufficient." + +"Well, in that case," responded dowager lady Chia, "let us fix upon five +catties a day, and every month come and receive payment of the whole +lump sum!" + +"O-mi-to-fu!" exclaimed Ma, the Taoist matron, "Oh merciful, and mighty +P'u Sa!" + +Dowager lady Chia then called the servants and impressed on their minds +that whenever Pao-yue went out of doors in the future, they should give +several strings of cash to the pages to bestow on charity among the +bonzes and Taoist priests, and the poor and needy they might meet on the +way. + +These directions concluded, the Taoist matron trudged into the various +quarters, and paid her respects, and then strolled leisurely about. +Presently, she entered Mrs. Chao's apartments. After the two ladies had +exchanged salutations, Mrs. Chao bade a young servant-girl hand her +guest a cup of tea. While Mrs. Chao busied herself pasting shoes, Ma, +the Taoist matron, espied, piled up in a heap on the stove-couch, sundry +pieces of silks and satins. "It just happens," she consequently +remarked, "that I have no facings for shoes, so my lady do give me a few +odd cuttings of silk and satin, of no matter what colour, to make myself +a pair of shoes with." + +Mrs. Chao heaved a sigh. "Look," she said, "whether there be still among +them any pieces good for anything. But anything that's worth anything +doesn't find its way in here. If you don't despise what's worthless, +you're at liberty to select any two pieces and to take them away, and +have done." + +The Taoist matron, Ma, chose with alacrity several pieces and shoved +them in her breast. + +"The other day," Mrs. Chao went on to inquire, "I sent a servant over +with five hundred cash; have you presented any offerings before the god +of medicine or not?" + +"I've offered them long ago for you," the Taoist matron Ma rejoined. + +"O-mi-to-fu!" ejaculated Mrs. Chao with a sigh, "were I a little better +off, I'd also come often and offer gifts; but though my will be +boundless, my means are insufficient!" + +"Don't trouble your mind on this score," suggested Ma, the Taoist +matron. "By and bye, when Mr. Huan has grown up into a man and obtained +some official post or other, will there be then any fear of your not +being able to afford such offerings as you might like to make?" + +At these words Mrs. Chao gave a smile. "Enough, enough!" she cried. +"Don't again refer to such contingencies! the present is a fair +criterion. For up to whom in this house can my son and I come? Pao-yue is +still a mere child; but he is such that he wins people's love. Those big +people may be partial to him, and love him a good deal, I've nothing to +say to it; but I can't eat humble pie to this sort of mistress!" + +While uttering this remark, she stretched out her two fingers. + +Ma, the Taoist matron, understood the meaning she desired to convey. +"It's your lady Secunda, Lien, eh?" she forthwith asked. + +Mrs. Chao was filled with trepidation. Hastily waving her hand, she got +to her feet, raised the portiere, and peeped outside. Perceiving that +there was no one about, she at length retraced her footsteps. +"Dreadful!" she then said to the Taoist matron. "Dreadful! But speaking +of this sort of mistress, I'm not so much as a human being, if she +doesn't manage to shift over into her mother's home the whole of this +family estate." + +"Need you tell me this!" Ma, the Taoist matron, at these words, remarked +with a view to ascertain what she implied. "Haven't I, forsooth, +discovered it all for myself? Yet it's fortunate that you don't trouble +your minds about her; for it's far better that you should let her have +her own way." + +"My dear woman," rejoined Mrs. Chao, "Not let her have her own way! why, +is it likely that any one would have the courage to tell her anything?" + +"I don't mean to utter any words that may bring upon me retribution," +added Ma, the Taoist matron, "but you people haven't got the wits. But +it's no matter of surprise. Yet if you daren't openly do anything, why, +you could stealthily have devised some plan. And do you still tarry up +to this day?" + +Mrs. Chao realised that there lurked something in her insinuation, and +she felt an inward secret joy. "What plan could I stealthily devise?" +she asked. "I've got the will right enough, but I'm not a person gifted +with this sort of gumption. So were you to impart to me some way or +other, I would reward you most liberally." + +When the Taoist matron, Ma, heard this, she drew near to her. +"O-mi-to-fu! desist at once from asking me!" she designedly exclaimed. +"How can I know anything about such matters, contrary as they are to +what is right?" + +"There you are again!" Mrs. Chao replied. "You're one ever most ready to +succour those in distress, and to help those in danger, and is it likely +that you'll quietly look on, while some one comes and compasses my death +as well as that of my son? Are you, pray, fearful lest I shouldn't give +you any reward?" + +Ma, the Taoist matron, greeted this remark with a smile. "You're right +enough in what you say," she ventured, "of my being unable to bear the +sight of yourself and son receiving insult from a third party; but as +for your mention of rewards, why, what's there of yours that I still +covet?" + +This answer slightly reassured Mrs. Chao's mind. "How is it," she +speedily urged, "that an intelligent person like you should have become +so dense? If, indeed, the spell prove efficacious, and we exterminate +them both, is there any apprehension that this family estate won't be +ours? and when that time comes, won't you get all you may wish?" + +At this disclosure, Ma, the Taoist matron, lowered her head for a long +time. "When everything," she observed, "shall have been settled +satisfactorily, and when there'll be, what's more, no proof at all, will +you still pay any heed to me?" + +"What's there hard about this?" remarked Mrs. Chao. "I've saved several +taels from my own pin-money, and have besides a good number of clothes +and head-ornaments. So you can first take several of these away with +you. And I'll further write an I.O.U., and entrust it to you, and when +that time does come, I'll pay you in full." + +"That will do!" answered the Taoist matron, Ma. + +Mrs. Chao thereupon dismissed even a young servant-girl, who happened to +be in the room, and hastily opening a trunk, she produced several +articles of clothing and jewelry, as well as a few odd pieces of silver +from her own pocket-money. Then also writing a promissory note for fifty +taels, she surrendered the lot to Ma, the Taoist matron. "Take these," +she said, "in advance for presents in your temple." + +At the sight of the various articles and of the promissory note, the +Taoist matron became at once unmindful of what was right and what was +wrong; and while her mouth was full of assent, she stretched out her +arm, and first and foremost laid hold of the hard cash, and next +clutched the I.O.U. Turning then towards Mrs. Chao, she asked for a +sheet of paper; and taking up a pair of scissors, she cut out two human +beings and gave them to Mrs. Chao, enjoining her to write on the upper +part of them the respective ages of the two persons in question. Looking +further for a sheet of blue paper, she cut out five blue-faced devils, +which she bade her place together side by side with the paper men, and +taking a pin she made them fast. "When I get home," she remarked, "I'll +have recourse to some art, which will, beyond doubt, prove efficacious." + +When she however had done speaking, she suddenly saw Madame Wang's +waiting-maid make her appearance inside the room. "What! my dame, are +you in here!" the girl exclaimed. "Why, our lady is waiting for you!" + +The two dames then parted company. + +But passing them over, we will now allude to Lin Tai-y mu. As Pao-yue had +scalded his face, and did not go out of doors very much, she often came +to have a chat with him. On this particular day she took up, after her +meal, some book or other and read a couple of pages out of it. Next, she +busied herself a little with needlework, in company with Tzu Chuan. She +felt however thoroughly dejected and out of sorts. So she strolled out +of doors along with her. But catching sight of the newly sprouted bamboo +shoots, in front of the pavilion, they involuntarily stepped out of the +entrance of the court, and penetrated into the garden. They cast their +eyes on all four quarters; but not a soul was visible. When they became +conscious of the splendour of the flowers and the chatter of the birds, +they, with listless step, turned their course towards the I Hung court. +There they found several servant-girls baling out water; while a bevy of +them stood under the verandah, watching the thrushes having their bath. +They heard also the sound of laughter in the rooms. + +The fact is that Li Kung-ts'ai, lady Feng, and Pao-ch'ai were assembled +inside. As soon as they saw them walk in, they with one voice shouted, +smiling: "Now, are not these two more!" + +"We are a full company to-day," laughed Tai-yue, "but who has issued the +cards and invited us here?" + +"The other day," interposed lady Feng, "I sent servants with a present +of two caddies of tea for you, Miss Lin; was it, after all, good?" + +"I had just forgotten all about it," Tai-yue rejoined, "many thanks for +your kind attention! + +"I tasted it," observed Pao-yue. "I did not think it anything good. But I +don't know how others, who've had any of it, find it." + +"Its flavour," said Tai-yue, "is good; the only thing is, it has no +colour." + +"It's tribute tea from the Laos Kingdom," continued lady Feng. "When I +tried it, I didn't either find it anything very fine. It's not up to +what we ordinarily drink." + +"To my taste, it's all right," put in Tai-yue. "But what your palates are +like, I can't make out." + +"As you say it's good," suggested Pao-yue, "you're quite at liberty to +take all I have for your use." + +"I've got a great deal more of it over there," lady Feng remarked. + +"I'll tell a servant-girl to go and fetch it," Tai-yue replied. + +"No need," lady Feng went on. "I'll send it over with some one. I also +have a favour to ask of you to-morrow, so I may as well tell the servant +to bring it along at the same time." + +When Lin Tai-yue heard these words, she put on a smile. "You just mark +this," she observed. "I've had to-day a little tea from her place, and +she at once begins making a tool of me!" + +"Since you've had some of our tea," lady Feng laughed, "how is it that +you have not yet become a wife in our household?" + +The whole party burst out laughing aloud. So much so, that they found it +difficult to repress themselves. But Tai-yue's face was suffused with +blushes. She turned her head the other way, and uttered not a word. + +"Our sister-in-law Secunda's jibes are first-rate!" Pao-ch'ai chimed in +with a laugh. + +"What jibes!" exclaimed Tai-yue; "they're purely and simply the prattle +of a mean mouth and vile tongue! They're enough to evoke people's +displeasure!" + +Saying this, she went on to sputter in disgust. + +"Were you," insinuated lady Feng, "to become a wife in my family, what +is there that you would lack?" Pointing then at Pao-yue, "Look here!" she +cried--"Is not this human being worthy of you? Is not his station in +life good enough for you? Are not our stock and estate sufficient for +you? and in what slight degree can he make you lose caste?" + +Tai-yue rose to her feet, and retired immediately. But Pao-ch'ai shouted +out: "Here's P'in Erh in a huff! Don't you yet come back? when you've +gone, there will really be no fun!" + +While calling out to her, she jumped up to pull her back. As soon, +however, as she reached the door of the room, she beheld Mrs. Chao, +accompanied by Mrs. Chou; both coming to look up Pao-yue. Pao-yue and his +companions got up in a body and pressed them into a seat. Lady Feng was +the sole person who did not heed them. + +But just as Pao-ch'ai was about to open her lips, she perceived a +servant-girl, attached to Madame Wang's apartments, appear on the scene. +"Your maternal uncle's wife has come," she said, "and she requests you, +ladies and young ladies, to come out and see her." + +Li Kung-ts'ai hurriedly walked away in company with lady Feng. The two +dames, Mrs. Chao and Mrs. Chou, in like manner took their leave and +quitted the room. + +"As for me, I can't go out," Pao-yue shouted. "But whatever you do, pray, +don't ask aunt to come in here." "Cousin Lin," he went on to say, "do +stay on a while; I've got something to tell you." + +Lady Feng overheard him. Turning her head towards Lin Tai-yue, "There's +some one," she cried; "who wants to speak to you." And forthwith laying +hold of Lin Tai-yue, she pushed her back and then trudged away, along +with Li Kung-ts'ai. + +During this time, Pao-yue clasped Tai-yue's hand in his. He did nothing +than smile. But not a word did he utter. Tai-yue naturally, therefore, +got crimson in the face, and struggled to escape his importunities. + +"Ai-ya!" exclaimed Pao-yue. "How my head is sore!" + +"It should be!" rejoined Tai-yue. "O-mi-to-fu." + +Pao-yue then gave vent to a loud shout. His body bounced three or four +feet high from the ground. His mouth was full of confused shrieks. But +all he said was rambling talk. + +Tai-yue and the servant-girls were full of consternation, and, with all +possible haste, they ran and apprised Madame Wang and dowager lady Chia. + +Wang Tzu-t'eng's wife was, at this time, also with them, so they all +came in a body to see him. Pao-yue behaved more and more as if determined +to clutch a sword or seize a spear to put an end to his existence. He +raged in a manner sufficient to subvert the heavens and upset the earth. + +As soon as dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang caught sight of him, they +were struck with terror. They trembled wildly like a piece of clothing +that is being shaken. Uttering a shout of: "My son," and another of: "My +flesh," they burst out into a loud fit of crying. Presently, all the +inmates were seized with fright. Even Chia She, Madame Hsing, Chia +Cheng, Chia Chen, Chia Lien, Chia Jung, Chia Yuen, Chia P'ing, Mrs. +Hsueeh, Hsueeh P'an, Chou Jui's wife, and the various members of the +household, whether high or low, and the servant-girls and married women +too, rushed into the garden to see what was up. + +The confusion that prevailed was, at the moment, like entangled flax. +Every one was at a loss what to do, when they espied lady Feng dash into +the garden, a glistening sword in hand, and try to cut down everything +that came in her way, ogle vacantly whomsoever struck her gaze, and make +forthwith an attempt to despatch them. A greater panic than ever broke +out among the whole assemblage. But placing herself at the head of a +handful of sturdy female servants, Chou Jui's wife precipitated herself +forward, and clasping her tight, they succeeded in snatching the sword +from her grip, and carrying her back into her room. + +P'ing Erh, Feng Erh, and the other girls began to weep. They invoked the +heavens and appealed to the earth. Even Chia Cheng was distressed at +heart. One and all at this stage started shouting, some, one thing; +some, another. Some suggested exorcists. Some cried out for the +posture-makers to attract the devils. Others recommended that Chang, the +Taoist priest, of the Yue Huang temple, should catch the evil spirits. A +thorough turmoil reigned supreme for a long time. The gods were +implored. Prayers were offered. Every kind of remedy was tried, but no +benefit whatever became visible. + +After sunset, the spouse of Wang Tzu-t'eng said good-bye and took her +departure. On the ensuing day, Wang Tzu-t'eng himself also came to make +inquiries. Following closely upon him, arrived, in a body, messengers +from the young marquis Shih, Madame Hsing's young brother, and their +various relatives to ascertain for themselves how (lady Feng and Pao-yue) +were progressing. Some brought charm-water. Some recommended bonzes and +Taoist priests. Others spoke highly of doctors. But that young fellow +and his elder brother's wife fell into such greater and greater stupor +that they lost all consciousness. Their bodies were hot like fire. As +they lay prostrate on their beds, they talked deliriously. With the fall +of the shades of night their condition aggravated. So much so, that the +matrons and servant-girls did not venture to volunteer their attendance. +They had, therefore, to be both moved into Madame Wang's quarters, where +servants were told off to take their turn and watch them. + +Dowager lady Chia, Madame Wang, Madame Hsing and Mrs. Hsueeh did not +budge an inch or a step from their side. They sat round them, and did +nothing but cry. Chia She and Chia Cheng too were a prey, at this +juncture, to misgivings lest weeping should upset dowager lady Chia. Day +and night oil was burnt and fires were, mindless of expense, kept +alight. The bustle and confusion was such that no one, either master or +servant, got any rest. + +Chia She also sped on every side in search of Buddhist and Taoist +priests. But Chia Cheng had witnessed how little relief these things +could afford, and he felt constrained to dissuade Chia She from his +endeavours. "The destiny," he argued, "of our son and daughter is +entirely dependent upon the will of Heaven, and no human strength can +prevail. The malady of these two persons would not be healed, even were +every kind of treatment tried, and as I feel confident that it is the +design of heaven that things should be as they are, all we can do is to +allow it to carry out its purpose." + +Chia She, however, paid no notice to his remonstrances and continued as +hitherto to fuss in every imaginable way. In no time three days elapsed. +Lady Feng and Pao-yue were still confined to their beds. Their very +breaths had grown fainter. The whole household, therefore, unanimously +arrived at the conclusion that there was no hope, and with all despatch +they made every necessary preparation for the subsequent requirements of +both their relatives. + +Dowager lady Chia, Madame Wang, Chia Lien, P'ing Erh, Hsi Jen and the +others indulged in tears with keener and keener anguish. They hung +between life and death. Mrs. Chao alone was the one who assumed an +outward sham air of distress, while in her heart she felt her wishes +gratified. + +The fourth day arrived. At an early hour Pao-yue suddenly opened his eyes +and addressed himself to his grandmother Chia. "From this day forward," +he said, "I may no longer abide in your house, so you had better send me +off at once!" + +These words made dowager lady Chia feel as if her very heart had been +wrenched out of her. Mrs. Chao, who stood by, exhorted her. "You +shouldn't, venerable lady," she said, "indulge in excessive grief. This +young man has been long ago of no good; so wouldn't it be as well to +dress him up and let him go back a moment sooner from this world. You'll +also be thus sparing him considerable suffering. But, if you persist, in +not reconciling yourself to the separation and this breath of his is not +cut off, he will lie there and suffer without any respite...." + +Her arguments were scarcely ended, when she was spat upon by dowager +lady Chia. "You rotten-tongued, good-for-nothing hag!" she cried +abusively. "What makes you fancy him of no good! You wish him dead and +gone; but what benefit will you then derive? Don't give way to any +dreams; for, if he does die, I'll just exact your lives from you! It's +all because you've been continuously at him, inciting and urging him to +read and write, that his spirit has become so intimidated that, at the +sight of his father, he behaves just like a rat trying to get out of the +way of a cat! And is not all this the result of the bullying of such a +mean herd of women as yourselves! Could you now drive him to death, your +wishes would immediately be fulfilled; but which of you will I let off?" + +Now she shed tears; now she gave vent to abuse. + +Chia Cheng, who stood by, heard these invectives; and they so enhanced +his exasperation that he promptly shouted out and made Mrs. Chao +withdraw. He then exerted himself for a time to console (his senior) by +using kindly accents. But suddenly some one came to announce that the +two coffins had been completed. This announcement pierced, like a +dagger, dowager lady Chia to the heart; and while weeping with despair +more intense, she broke forth in violent upbraidings. + +"Who is it,"--she inquired; "who gave orders to make the coffins? Bring +at once the coffin-makers and beat them to death!" + +A stir ensued sufficient to convulse the heavens and to subvert the +earth. But at an unforeseen moment resounded in the air the gentle +rapping of a 'wooden fish' bell. A voice recited the sentence: "Ave! +Buddha able to unravel retribution and dispel grievances! Should any +human being lie in sickness, and his family be solicitous on his +account; or should any one have met with evil spirits and come across +any baleful evils, we have the means to effect a cure." + +Dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang at once directed servants to go out +into the street and find out who it was. It turned out to be, in fact, a +mangy-headed bonze and a hobbling Taoist priest. What was the appearance +of the bonze? + + His nose like a suspended gall; his two eyebrows so long, + His eyes, resembling radiant stars, possessed a precious glow, + His coat in tatters and his shoes of straw, without a home; + Rolling in filth, and, a worse fate, his head one mass of boils. + +And the Taoist priest, what was he like? + + With one leg perched high he comes, with one leg low; + His whole frame drenching wet, bespattered all with mud. + If you perchance meet him, and ask him where's his home, + "In fairyland, west of the 'Weak Water,' he'll say." + +Chia Cheng ordered the servants to invite them to walk in. "On what +hill," he asked those two persons, "do you cultivate the principles of +reason? + +"Worthy official!" the bonze smiled, "you must not ask too many +questions! It's because we've learnt that there are inmates of your +honourable mansion in a poor state of health that we come with the +express design of working a cure." + +"There are," explained Chia Cheng, "two of our members, who have been +possessed of evil spirits. But, is there, I wonder, any remedy by means +of which they could he healed?" + +"In your family," laughingly observed the Taoist priest, "you have ready +at hand a precious thing, the like of which is rare to find in the +world. It possesses the virtue of alleviating the ailment, so why need +you inquire about remedies?" + +Chia Cheng's mind was forthwith aroused. "It's true," he consequently +rejoined, "that my son brought along with him, at the time of his birth, +a piece of jade, on the surface of which was inscribed that it had the +virtue of dispelling evil influences, but we haven't seen any efficacy +in it." + +"There is, worthy officer," said the bonze, "something in it which you +do not understand. That precious jade was, in its primitive state, +efficacious, but consequent upon its having been polluted by music, +lewdness, property and gain it has lost its spiritual properties. But +produce now that valuable thing and wait till I have taken it into my +hands and pronounced incantations over it, when it will become as full +of efficacy as of old!" + +Chia Cheng accordingly unclasped the piece of jade from Pao-yue's neck, +and handed it to the two divines. The Buddhist priest held it with +reverence in the palm of his hand and heaving a deep sigh, "Since our +parting," he cried, "at the foot of the Ch'ing Keng peak, about thirteen +years have elapsed. How time flies in the mortal world! Thine earthly +destiny has not yet been determined. Alas, alas! how admirable were the +qualities thou did'st possess in those days! + + "By Heaven unrestrained, without constraint from Earth, + No joys lived in thy heart, but sorrows none as well; + Yet when perception, through refinement, thou did'st reach, + Thou went'st among mankind to trouble to give rise. + How sad the lot which thou of late hast had to hear! + Powder prints and rouge stains thy precious lustre dim. + House bars both day and night encage thee like a duck. + Deep wilt thou sleep, but from thy dream at length thou'lt wake, + Thy debt of vengeance, once discharged, thou wilt depart." + +At the conclusion of this recital, he again rubbed the stone for a +while, and gave vent to some nonsensical utterances, after which he +surrendered it to Chia Cheng. "This object," he said, "has already +resumed its efficacy; but you shouldn't do anything to desecrate it. +Hang it on the post of the door in his bed-room, and with the exception +of his own relatives, you must not let any outside female pollute it. +After the expiry of thirty-three days, he will, I can guarantee, be all +right." + +Chia Cheng then gave orders to present tea; but the two priests had +already walked away. He had, however, no alternative but to comply with +their injunctions, and lady Feng and Pao-yue, in point of fact, got +better from day to day. Little by little they returned to their senses +and experienced hunger. Dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang, at length, +felt composed in their minds. All the cousins heard the news outside. +Tai-yue, previous to anything else, muttered a prayer to Buddha; while +Pao-ch'ai laughed and said not a word. + +"Sister Pao," inquired Hsi Ch'un, "what are you laughing for?" + +"I laugh," replied Pao-ch'ai, "because the 'Thus-Come' Joss has more to +do than any human being. He's got to see to the conversion of all +mankind, and to take care of the ailments, to which all flesh is heir; +for he restores every one of them at once to health; and he has as well +to control people's marriages so as to bring them about through his aid; +and what do you say, has he ample to do or not? Now, isn't this enough +to make one laugh, eh?" + +Lin Tai-yue blushed. "Ts'ui!" she exclaimed; "none of you are good +people. Instead of following the example of worthy persons, you try to +rival the mean mouth of that hussey Feng." + +As she uttered these words, she raised the portiere and made her exit. + +But, reader, do you want to know any further circumstances? If so, the +next chapter will explain them to you. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + On the Feng Yao bridge, Hsiao Hung makes known sentimental matters in + equivocal language. + In the Hsiao Hsiang lodge, Tai-yue gives, while under the effects of + the spring lassitude, expression to her secret feelings. + + +After thirty days' careful nursing, Pao-yue, we will now notice, not only +got strong and hale in body, but the scars even on his face completely +healed up; so he was able to shift his quarters again into the garden of +Broad Vista. + +But we will banish this topic as it does not deserve any additional +explanations. Let us now turn our attention elsewhere. During the time +that Pao-yue was of late laid up in bed, Chia Yuen along with the young +pages of the household sat up on watch to keep an eye over him, and both +day and night, they tarried on this side of the mansion. But Hsiao Hung +as well as all the other waiting-maids remained in the same part to +nurse Pao-yue, so (Chia Yuen) and she saw a good deal of each other on +several occasions, and gradually an intimacy sprung up between them. + +Hsiao Hung observed that Chia Yuen held in his hand a handkerchief very +much like the one she herself had dropped some time ago and was bent +upon asking him for it, but she did, on the other hand, not think she +could do so with propriety. The unexpected visit of the bonze and Taoist +priest rendered, however, superfluous the services of the various male +attendants, and Chia-yuen had therefore to go again and oversee the men +planting the trees. Now she had a mind to drop the whole question, but +she could not reconcile herself to it; and now she longed to go and ask +him about it, but fears rose in her mind lest people should entertain +any suspicions as to the relations that existed between them. But just +as she faltered, quite irresolute, and her heart was thoroughly +unsettled, she unawares heard some one outside inquire: "Sister, are you +in the room or not?" + +Hsiao Hung, upon catching this question, looked out through a hole in +the window; and perceiving at a glance that it was no one else than a +young servant-girl, attached to the same court as herself, Chia Hui by +name, she consequently said by way of reply: "Yes, I am; come in!" + +When these words reached her ear, Chia Hui ran in, and taking at once a +seat on the bed, she observed with a smile: "How lucky I've been! I was +a little time back in the court washing a few things, when Pao-yue cried +out that some tea should be sent over to Miss Lin, and sister Hua handed +it to me to go on the errand. By a strange coincidence our old lady had +presented some money to Miss Lin and she was engaged at the moment in +distributing it among their servant-girls. As soon therefore as she saw +me get there, Miss Lin forthwith grasped two handfuls of cash and gave +them to me; how many there are I don't know, but do keep them for me!" + +Speedily then opening her handkerchief, she emptied the cash. Hsiao Hung +counted them for her by fives and tens at a time. She was beginning to +put them away, when Chia Hui remarked: "How are you, after all, feeling +of late in your mind? I'll tell you what; you should really go and stay +at home for a couple of days. And were you to ask a doctor round and to +have a few doses of medicine you'll get all right at once!" + +"What are you talking about?" Hsiao Hung replied. "What shall I go home +for, when there's neither rhyme nor reason for it!" + +"Miss Lin, I remember, is naturally of a weak physique, and has +constantly to take medicines," Chia Hui added, "so were you to ask her +for some and bring them over and take them, it would come to the same +thing." + +"Nonsense!" rejoined Hsiao Hung, "are medicines also to be recklessly +taken ?" + +"You can't so on for ever like this," continued Chia Hui; "you're +besides loth to eat and loth to drink, and what will you be like in the +long run?" + +"What's there to fear?" observed Hsiao Hung; "won't it anyhow be better +to die a little earlier? It would be a riddance!" + +"Why do you deliberately come out with all this talk?" Chia Hui +demurred. + +"How could you ever know anything of the secrets of my heart?" Hsiao +Hung inquired. + +Chia Hui nodded her head and gave way to reflection. "I don't think it +strange on your part," she said after a time; "for it is really +difficult to abide in this place! Yesterday, for instance, our dowager +lady remarked that the servants in attendance had had, during all the +days that Pao-yue was ill, a good deal to put up with, and that now that +he has recovered, incense should be burnt everywhere, and the vows +fulfilled; and she expressed a wish that those in his service should, +one and all, be rewarded according to their grade. I and several others +can be safely looked upon as young in years, and unworthy to presume so +high; so I don't feel in any way aggrieved; but how is it that one like +you couldn't be included in the number? My heart is much annoyed at it! +Had there been any fear that Hsi Jen would have got ten times more, I +could not even then have felt sore against her, for she really deserves +it! I'll just tell you an honest truth; who else is there like her? Not +to speak of the diligence and carefulness she has displayed all along, +even had she not been so diligent and careful, she couldn't have been +set aside! But what is provoking is that that lot, like Ch'ing Wen and +Ch'i Hsia, should have been included in the upper class. Yet it's +because every one places such reliance on the fine reputation of their +father and mother that they exalt them. Now, do tell me, is this +sufficient to anger one or not?" + +"It won't do to be angry with them!" Hsiao Hung observed. "The proverb +says: 'You may erect a shed a thousand _li_ long, but there is no +entertainment from which the guests will not disperse!' And who is it +that will tarry here for a whole lifetime? In another three years or +five years every single one of us will have gone her own way; and who +will, when that time comes, worry her mind about any one else?" + +These allusions had the unexpected effect of touching Chia Hui to the +heart; and in spite of herself the very balls of her eyes got red. But +so uneasy did she feel at crying for no reason that she had to exert +herself to force a smile. "What you say is true," she ventured. "And +yet, Pao-yue even yesterday explained how the rooms should be arranged by +and bye; and how the clothes should be made, just as if he was bound to +hang on to dear life for several hundreds of years." + +Hsiao Hung, at these words, gave a couple of sardonic smiles. But when +about to pass some remark, she perceived a youthful servant-girl, who +had not as yet let her hair grow, walk in, holding in her hands several +patterns and two sheets of paper. "You are asked," she said, "to trace +these two designs!" + +As she spoke, she threw them at Hsiao Hung, and twisting herself round, +she immediately scampered away. + +"Whose are they, after all?" Hsiao Hung inquired, addressing herself +outside. "Couldn't you wait even so much as to conclude what you had to +say, but flew off at once? Who is steaming bread and waiting for you? Or +are you afraid, forsooth, lest it should get cold?" + +"They belong to sister Ch'i," the young servant-girl merely returned for +answer from outside the window; and raising her feet high, she ran +tramp-tramp on her way back again. + +Hsiao Hung lost control over her temper, and snatching the designs, she +flung them on one side. She then rummaged in a drawer for a pencil, but +finding, after a prolonged search, that they were all blunt; "Where did +I," she thereupon ejaculated, "put that brand-new pencil the other day? +How is it I can't remember where it is?" + +While she soliloquised, she became wrapt in thought. After some +reflection she, at length, gave a smile. "Of course!" she exclaimed, +"the other evening Ying Erh took it away." And turning towards Chia Hui, +"Fetch it for me," she shouted. + +"Sister Hua," Chia Hui rejoined, "is waiting for me to get a box for +her, so you had better go for it yourself!" + +"What!" remarked Hsiao Hung, "she's waiting for you, and are you still +squatting here chatting leisurely? Hadn't it been that I asked you to go +and fetch it, she too wouldn't have been waiting for you; you most +perverse vixen!" + +With these words on her lips, she herself walked out of the room, and +leaving the I Hung court, she straightway proceeded in the direction of +Pao-ch'ai's court. As soon, however, as she reached the Hsin Fang +pavilion, she saw dame Li, Pao-yue's nurse, appear in view from the +opposite side; so Hsiao Hung halted and putting on a smile, "Nurse Li," +she asked, "where are you, old dame, bound for? How is it you're coming +this way?" + +Nurse Li stopped short, and clapped her hands. "Tell me," she said, "has +he deliberately again gone and fallen in love with that Mr. something or +other like Yun (cloud), or Yue (rain)? They now insist upon my bringing +him inside, but if they get wind of it by and bye in the upper rooms, it +won't again be a nice thing." + +"Are you, old lady," replied Hsiao Hung smiling, "taking things in such +real earnest that you readily believe them and want to go and ask him in +here?" + +"What can I do?" rejoined nurse Li. + +"Why, that fellow," added Hsiao Hung laughingly, "will, if he has any +idea of decency, do the right thing and not come." + +"Besides, he's not a fool!" pleaded nurse Li; "so why shouldn't he come +in?" + +"Well, if he is to come," answered Hsiao Hung, "it will devolve upon +you, worthy dame, to lead him along with you; for were you by and bye to +let him penetrate inside all alone and knock recklessly about, why, it +won't do at all." + +"Have I got all that leisure," retorted nurse Li, "to trudge along with +him? I'll simply tell him to come; and later on I can despatch a young +servant-girl or some old woman to bring him in, and have done." + +Saying this, she continued her way, leaning on her staff. + +After listening to her rejoinder, Hsiao Hung stood still; and plunging +in abstraction, she did not go and fetch the pencil. But presently, she +caught sight of a servant-girl running that way. Espying Hsiao Hung +lingering in that spot, "Sister Hung," she cried, "what are you doing in +here?" + +Hsiao Hung raised her head, and recognised a young waiting-maid called +Chui Erh. "Where are you off too?" Hsiao Hung asked. + +"I've been told to bring in master Secundus, Mr. Yuen," Chui Erh replied. +After which answer, she there and then departed with all speed. + +Hsiao Hung reached, meanwhile, the Feng Yao bridge. As soon as she +approached the gateway, she perceived Chui Erh coming along with Chia +Yuen from the opposite direction. While advancing Chia Yuen ogled Hsiao +Hung; and Hsiao Hung too, though pretending to be addressing herself to +Chui Erh, cast a glance at Chia Yuen; and their four eyes, as luck would +have it, met. Hsiao Hung involuntarily blushed all over; and turning +herself round, she walked off towards the Heng Wu court. But we will +leave her there without further remarks. + +During this time, Chia Yuen followed Chui Erh, by a circuitous way, into +the I Hung court. Chui Erh entered first and made the necessary +announcement. Then subsequently she ushered in Chia Yuen. When Chia Yuen +scrutinised the surroundings, he perceived, here and there in the court, +several blocks of rockery, among which were planted banana-trees. On the +opposite side were two storks preening their feathers under the fir +trees. Under the covered passage were suspended, in a row, cages of +every description, containing all sorts of fairylike, rare birds. In the +upper part were five diminutive anterooms, uniformly carved with, unique +designs; and above the framework of the door was hung a tablet with the +inscription in four huge characters--"I Hung K'uai Lue, the happy red and +joyful green." + +"I thought it strange," Chia Yuen argued mentally, "that it should be +called the I Hung court; but are these, in fact, the four characters +inscribed on the tablet!" + +But while he was communing within himself, he heard some one laugh and +then exclaim from the inner side of the gauze window: "Come in at once! +How is it that I've forgotten you these two or three months?" + +As soon as Chia Yuen recognised Pao-yue's voice, he entered the room with +hurried step. On raising his head, his eye was attracted by the +brilliant splendour emitted by gold and jade and by the dazzling lustre +of the elegant arrangements. He failed, however, to detect where Pao-yue +was ensconced. The moment he turned his head round, he espied, on the +left side, a large cheval-glass; behind which appeared to view, standing +side by side, two servant-girls of fifteen or sixteen years of age. +"Master Secundus," they ventured, "please take a seat in the inner +room." + +Chia Yuen could not even muster courage to look at them straight in the +face; but promptly assenting, he walked into a green gauze +mosquito-house, where he saw a small lacquered bed, hung with curtains +of a deep red colour, with clusters of flowers embroidered in gold. +Pao-yue, wearing a house-dress and slipshod shoes, was reclining on the +bed, a book in hand. The moment he perceived Chia Yuen walk in, he +discarded his book, and forthwith smiled and raised himself up. Chia Yuen +hurriedly pressed forward and paid his salutation. Pao-yue then offered +him a seat; but he simply chose a chair in the lower part of the +apartment. + +"Ever since the moon in which I came across you," Pao-yue observed +smilingly, "and told you to come into the library, I've had, who would +have thought it, endless things to continuously attend to, so that I +forgot all about you." + +"It's I, indeed, who lacked good fortune!" rejoined Chia Yuen, with a +laugh; "particularly so, as it again happened that you, uncle, fell ill. +But are you quite right once more?" + +"All right!" answered Pao-yue. "I heard that you've been put to much +trouble and inconvenience on a good number of days!" + +"Had I even had any trouble to bear," added Chia Yuen, "it would have +been my duty to bear it. But your complete recovery, uncle, is really a +blessing to our whole family." + +As he spoke, he discerned a couple of servant-maids come to help him to +a cup of tea. But while conversing with Pao-yue, Chia Yuen was intent upon +scrutinising the girl with slim figure, and oval face, and clad in a +silvery-red jacket, a blue satin waistcoat and a white silk petticoat +with narrow pleats. + +At the time of Pao-yue's illness, Chia Yuen had spent a couple of days in +the inner apartments, so that he remembered half of the inmates of note, +and the moment he set eyes upon this servant-girl he knew that it was +Hsi Jen; and that she was in Pao-yue's rooms on a different standing to +the rest. Now therefore that she brought the tea in herself and that +Pao-yue was, besides, sitting by, he rose to his feet with alacrity and +put on a smile. "Sister," he said, "how is it that you are pouring tea +for me? I came here to pay uncle a visit; what's more I'm no stranger, +so let me pour it with my own hands!" + +"Just you sit down and finish!" Pao-yue interposed; "will you also behave +in this fashion with servant-girls?" + +"In spite of what you say;" remarked Chia Yuen smiling, "they are young +ladies attached to your rooms, uncle, and how could I presume to be +disorderly in my conduct?" + +So saying, he took a seat and drank his tea. Pao-yue then talked to him +about trivial and irrelevant matters; and afterwards went on to tell him +in whose household the actresses were best, and whose gardens were +pretty. He further mentioned to him in whose quarters the servant-girls +were handsome, whose banquets were sumptuous, as well as in whose home +were to be found strange things, and what family possessed remarkable +objects. Chia Yuen was constrained to humour him in his conversation; but +after a chat, which lasted for some time, he noticed that Pao-yue was +somewhat listless, and he promptly stood up and took his leave. And +Pao-yue too did not use much pressure to detain him. "To-morrow, if you +have nothing to do, do come over!" he merely observed; after which, he +again bade the young waiting-maid, Chui Erh, see him out. + +Having left the I Hung court, Chia Yuen cast a glance all round; and, +realising that there was no one about, he slackened his pace at once, +and while proceeding leisurely, he conversed, in a friendly way, with +Chui Erh on one thing and another. First and foremost he inquired of her +what was her age; and her name. "Of what standing are your father and +mother?" he said, "How many years have you been in uncle Pao's +apartments? How much money do you get a month? In all how many girls are +there in uncle Pao's rooms?" + +As Chui Erh heard the questions set to her, she readily made suitable +reply to each. + +"The one, who was a while back talking to you," continued Chia Yuen, "is +called Hsiao Hung, isn't she?" + +"Yes, her name is Hsiao Hung!" replied Chui Erh smiling; "but why do you +ask about her?" + +"She inquired of you just now about some handkerchief or other," +answered Chia Yuen; "well, I've picked one up." + +Chui Erh greeted this response with a smile. "Many are the times," she +said; "that she has asked me whether I had seen her handkerchief; but +have I got all that leisure to worry my mind about such things? She +spoke to me about it again to-day; and she suggested that I should find +it for her, and that she would also recompense me. This she told me when +we were just now at the entrance of the Heng Wu court, and you too, Mr. +Secundus, overheard her, so that I'm not lying. But, dear Mr. Secundus, +since you've picked it up, give it to me. Do! And I'll see what she will +give me as a reward." + +The truth is that Chia Yuen had, the previous moon when he had come into +the garden to attend to the planting of trees, picked up a handkerchief, +which he conjectured must have been dropped by some inmate of those +grounds; but as he was not aware whose it was, he did not consequently +presume to act with indiscretion. But on this occasion, he overheard +Hsiao Hung make inquiries of Chui Erh on the subject; and concluding +that it must belong to her, he felt immeasurably delighted. Seeing, +besides, how importunate Chui Erh was, he at once devised a plan within +himself, and vehemently producing from his sleeve a handkerchief of his +own, he observed, as he turned towards Chui Erh with a smile: "As for +giving it to you, I'll do so; but in the event of your obtaining any +present from her, you mustn't impose upon me." + +Chui Erh assented to his proposal most profusely; and, taking the +handkerchief, she saw Chia Yuen out and then came back in search of Hsiao +Hung. But we will leave her there for the present. + +We will now return to Pao-yue. After dismissing Chia Yuen, he lay in such +complete listlessness on the bed that he betrayed every sign of being +half asleep. Hsi Jen walked up to him, and seated herself on the edge of +the bed, and pushing him, "What are you about to go to sleep again," she +said. "Would it not do your languid spirits good if you went out for a +bit of a stroll?" + +Upon hearing her voice, Pao-yue grasped her hand in his. "I would like to +go out," he smiled, "but I can't reconcile myself to the separation from +you!" + +"Get up at once!" laughed Hsi Jen. And as she uttered these words, she +pulled Pao-yue up. + +"Where can I go?" exclaimed Pao-yue. "I'm quite surfeited with +everything." + +"Once out you'll be all right," Hsi Jen answered, "but if you simply +give way to this languor, you'll be more than ever sick of everything at +heart." + +Pao-yue could not do otherwise, dull and out of sorts though he was, than +accede to her importunities. Strolling leisurely out of the door of the +room, he amused himself a little with the birds suspended under the +verandah; then he wended his steps outside the court, and followed the +course of the Hsin Fang stream; but after admiring the golden fish for a +time, he espied, on the opposite hillock, two young deer come rushing +down as swift as an arrow. What they were up to Pao-yue could not +discern; but while abandoning himself to melancholy, he caught sight of +Chia Lan, following behind, with a small bow in his hand, and hurrying +down hill in pursuit of them. + +As soon as he realised that Pao-yue stood ahead of him, he speedily +halted. "Uncle Secundus," he smiled, "are you at home? I imagined you +had gone out of doors!" + +"You are up to mischief again, eh?" Pao-yue rejoined. "They've done +nothing to you, and why shoot at them with your arrows?" + +"I had no studies to attend to just now, so, being free with nothing to +do," Chia Lan replied laughingly, "I was practising riding and archery." + +"Shut up!" exclaimed Pao-yue. "When are you not engaged in practising?" + +Saying this, he continued his way and straightway reached the entrance +of a court. Here the bamboo foliage was thick, and the breeze sighed +gently. This was the Hsiao Hsiang lodge. Pao-yue listlessly rambled in. +He saw a bamboo portiere hanging down to the ground. Stillness +prevailed. Not a human voice fell on the ear. He advanced as far as the +window. Noticing that a whiff of subtle scent stole softly through the +green gauze casement, Pao-yue applied his face closely against the frame +to peep in, but suddenly he caught the faint sound of a deep sigh and +the words: "Day after day my feelings slumber drowsily!" Upon +overhearing this exclamation, Pao-yue unconsciously began to feel a prey +to inward longings; but casting a second glance, he saw Tai-yue +stretching herself on the bed. + +"Why is it," smiled Pao-yue, from outside the window, "that your feelings +day after day slumber drowsily?" So saying, he raised the portiere and +stepped in. + +The consciousness that she had not been reticent about her feelings made +Tai-yue unwittingly flush scarlet. Taking hold of her sleeve, she +screened her face; and, turning her body round towards the inside, she +pretended to be fast asleep. Pao-yue drew near her. He was about to pull +her round when he saw Tai-yue's nurse enter the apartment, followed by +two matrons. + +"Is Miss asleep?" they said. "If so, we'll ask her over, when she wakes +up." + +As these words were being spoken, Tai-yue eagerly twisted herself round +and sat up. "Who's asleep?" she laughed. + +"We thought you were fast asleep, Miss," smiled the two or three matrons +as soon as they perceived Tai-yue get up. This greeting over, they called +Tzu Chuean. "Your young mistress," they said, "has awoke; come in and +wait on her!" + +While calling her, they quitted the room in a body. Tai-yue remained +seated on the bed. Raising her arms, she adjusted her hair, and +smilingly she observed to Pao-yue, "When people are asleep, what do you +walk in for?" + +At the sight of her half-closed starlike eyes and of her fragrant +cheeks, suffused with a crimson blush, Pao-yue's feelings were of a +sudden awakened; so, bending his body, he took a seat on a chair, and +asked with a smile: "What were you saying a short while back?" + +"I wasn't saying anything," Tai-yue replied. + +"What a lie you're trying to ram down my throat!" laughed Pao-yue. "I +heard all." + +But in the middle of their colloquy, they saw Tzu Chuean enter. Pao-yue +then put on a smiling face. "Tzu Chuean!" he cried, "pour me a cup of +your good tea!" + +"Where's the good tea to be had?" Tzu Chuean answered. "If you want good +tea, you'd better wait till Hsi Jen comes." + +"Don't heed him!" interposed Tai-yue. "Just go first and draw me some +water." + +"He's a visitor," remonstrated Tzu Chuean, "and, of course, I should +first pour him a cup of tea, and then go and draw the water." + +With this answer, she started to serve the tea. + +"My dear girl," Pao-yue exclaimed laughingly, "If I could only share the +same bridal curtain with your lovable young mistress, would I ever be +able (to treat you as a servant) by making you fold the covers and make +the beds." + +Lin Tai-yue at once drooped her head. "What are you saying?" she +remonstrated. + +"What, did I say anything?" smiled Pao-yue. + +Tai-yue burst into tears. "You've recently," she observed, "got into a +new way. Whatever slang you happen to hear outside you come and tell me. +And whenever you read any improper book, you poke your fun at me. What! +have I become a laughing-stock for gentlemen!" + +As she began to cry, she jumped down from bed, and promptly left the +room. Pao-yue was at a loss how to act. So agitated was he that he +hastily ran up to her, "My dear cousin," he pleaded, "I do deserve +death; but don't go and tell any one! If again I venture to utter such +kind of language, may blisters grow on my mouth and may my tongue waste +away!" + +But while appealing to her feelings, he saw Hsi Jen approach him. "Go +back at once," she cried, "and put on your clothes as master wants to +see you." + +At the very mention of his father, Pao-yue felt suddenly as if struck by +lightning. Regardless of everything and anything, he rushed, as fast as +possible, back to his room, and changing his clothes, he came out into +the garden. Here he discovered Pei Ming, standing at the second gateway, +waiting for him. + +"Do you perchance know what he wants me for?" Pao-yue inquired. + +"Master, hurry out at once!" Pei Ming replied. "You must, of course, go +and see him. When you get there, you are sure to find out what it's all +about." + +This said, he urged Pao-yue on, and together they turned past the large +pavilion. Pao-yue was, however, still labouring under suspicion, when he +heard, from the corner of the wall, a loud outburst of laughter. Upon +turning his head round, he caught sight of Hsueeh P'an jump out, clapping +his hands. "Hadn't I said that my uncle wanted you?" he laughed. "Would +you ever have rushed out with such alacrity?" + +Pei Ming also laughed, and fell on his knees. But Pao-yue remained for a +long time under the spell of utter astonishment, before he, at length, +realised that it was Hsueeh P'au who had inveigled him to come out. + +Hsueeh P'an hastily made a salutation and a curtsey, and confessed his +fault. He next gave way to entreaties, saying: "Don't punish the young +servant, for it is simply I who begged him go." + +Pao-yue too had then no other alternative but to smile. "I don't mind +your playing your larks on me; but why," he inquired, "did you mention +my father? Were I to go and tell my aunt, your mother, to see to the +rights and the wrongs of the case, how would you like it?" + +"My dear cousin," remarked Hsueeh P'an vehemently, "the primary idea I +had in view was to ask you to come out a moment sooner and I forgot to +respectfully shun the expression. But by and bye, when you wish to chaff +me, just you likewise allude to my father, and we'll thus be square." + +"Ai-ya!" exclaimed Pao-yue. "You do more than ever deserve death!!" Then +turning again towards Pei Ming, "You ruffian!" he said, "what are you +still kneeling for?" + +Pei Ming began to bump his head on the ground with vehemence. + +"Had it been for anything else," Hsueeh P'an chimed in, "I wouldn't have +made bold to disturb you; but it's simply in connection with my birthday +which is to-morrow, the third day of the fifth moon. Ch'eng Jih-hsing, +who is in that curio shop of ours, unexpectedly brought along, goodness +knows where he fished them from, fresh lotus so thick and so long, so +mealy and so crisp; melons of this size; and a Siamese porpoise, that +long and that big, smoked with cedar, such as is sent as tribute from +the kingdom of Siam. Are not these four presents, pray, rare delicacies? +The porpoise is not only expensive, but difficult to get, and that kind +of lotus and melon must have cost him no end of trouble to grow! I lost +no time in presenting some to my mother, and at once sent some to your +old grandmother, and my aunt. But a good many of them still remain now; +and were I to eat them all alone, it would, I fear, be more than I +deserve; so I concluded, after thinking right and left, that there was, +besides myself, only you good enough to partake of some. That is why I +specially invite you to taste them. But, as luck would have it, a young +singing-boy has also come, so what do you say to you and I having a +jolly day of it?" + +As they talked, they walked; and, as they walked, they reached the +interior of the library. Here they discovered a whole assemblage +consisting of Tan Kuang, Ch'eng Jih-hsing, Hu Ch'i-lai, Tan T'ing-jen +and others, and the singing-boy as well. As soon as these saw Pao-yue +walk in, some paid their respects to him; others inquired how he was; +and after the interchange of salutations, tea was drunk. Hsueeh P'an then +gave orders to serve the wine. Scarcely were the words out of his mouth +than the servant-lads bustled and fussed for a long while laying the +table. When at last the necessary arrangements had been completed, the +company took their seats. + +Pao-yue verily found the melons and lotus of an exceptional description. +"My birthday presents have not as yet been sent round," he felt impelled +to say, a smile on his lips, "and here I come, ahead of them, to +trespass on your hospitality." + +"Just so!" retorted Hsueeh P'an, "but when you come to-morrow to +congratulate me we'll consider what novel kind of present you can give +me." + +"I've got nothing that I can give you," rejoined Pao-yue. "As far as +money, clothes, eatables and other such articles go, they are not really +mine: all I can call my own are such pages of characters that I may +write, or pictures that I may draw." + +"Your reference to pictures," added Hsueeh P'an smiling, "reminds me of a +book I saw yesterday, containing immodest drawings; they were, truly, +beautifully done. On the front page there figured also a whole lot of +characters. But I didn't carefully look at them; I simply noticed the +name of the person, who had executed them. It was, in fact, something or +other like Keng Huang. The pictures were, actually, exceedingly good!" + +This allusion made Pao-yue exercise his mind with innumerable +conjectures. + +"Of pictures drawn from past years to the present, I have," he said, +"seen a good many, but I've never come across any Keng Huang." + +After considerable thought, he could not repress himself from bursting +out laughing. Then asking a servant to fetch him a pencil, he wrote a +couple of words on the palm of his hand. This done, he went on to +inquire of Hsueeh. P'an: "Did you see correctly that it read Keng Huang?" + +"How could I not have seen correctly?" ejaculated Hsueeh P'an. + +Pao-yue thereupon unclenched his hand and allowed him to peruse, what was +written in it. "Were they possibly these two characters?" he remarked. +"These are, in point of fact, not very dissimilar from what Keng Huang +look like?" + +On scrutinising them, the company noticed the two words T'ang Yin, and +they all laughed. "They must, we fancy, have been these two characters!" +they cried. "Your eyes, Sir, may, there's no saying, have suddenly grown +dim!" + +Hsueeh P'an felt utterly abashed. "Who could have said," he smiled, +"whether they were T'ang Yin or Kuo Yin, (candied silver or fruit +silver)." + +As he cracked this joke, however, a young page came and announced that +Mr. Feng had arrived. Pao-yue concluded that the new comer must be Feng +Tzu-ying, the son of Feng T'ang, general with the prefix of Shen Wu." + +"Ask him in at once," Hsueeh P'an and his companions shouted with one +voice. + +But barely were these words out of their mouths, than they realised that +Feng Tzu-ying had already stepped in, talking and laughing as he +approached. + +The company speedily rose from table and offered him a seat. + +"That's right!" smiled Feng Tzu-ying. "You don't go out of doors, but +remain at home and go in for high fun!" + +Both Pao-yue and Hsueeh P'an put on a smile. "We haven't," they remarked, +"seen you for ever so long. Is your venerable father strong and hale?" + +"My father," rejoined Tzu-ying, "is, thanks to you, strong and hale; but +my mother recently contracted a sudden chill and has been unwell for a +couple of days." + +Hsueeh P'an discerned on his face a slight bluish wound. "With whom have +you again been boxing," he laughingly inquired, "that you've hung up +this sign board?" + +"Since the occasion," laughed Feng Tzu-ying, "on which I wounded +lieutenant-colonel Ch'ou's son, I've borne the lesson in mind, and never +lost my temper. So how is it you say that I've again been boxing? This +thing on my face was caused, when I was out shooting the other day on +the T'ieh Wang hills, by a flap from the wing of the falcon." + +"When was that?" asked Pao-yue. + +"I started," explained Tzu-ying, "on the 28th of the third moon and came +back only the day before yesterday." + +"It isn't to be wondered at then," observed Pao-yue, "that when I went +the other day, on the third and fourth, to a banquet at friend Shen's +house, I didn't see you there. Yet I meant to have inquired about you; +but I don't know how it slipped from my memory. Did you go alone, or did +your venerable father accompany you?" + +"Of course, my father went," Tzu-ying replied, "so I had no help but to +go. For is it likely, forsooth, that I've gone mad from lack of anything +to do! Don't we, a goodly number as we are, derive enough pleasure from +our wine-bouts and plays that I should go in quest of such kind of +fatiguing recreation! But in this instance a great piece of good fortune +turned up in evil fortune!" + +Hsueeh P'an and his companions noticed that he had finished his tea. +"Come along," they one and all proposed, "and join the banquet; you can +then quietly recount to us all your experiences." + +At this suggestion Feng Tzu-ying there and then rose to his feet. +"According to etiquette," he said. "I should join you in drinking a few +cups; but to-day I have still a very urgent matter to see my father +about on my return so that I truly cannot accept your invitation." + +Hsueeh P'an, Pao-yue and the other young fellows would on no account +listen to his excuses. They pulled him vigorously about and would not +let him go. + +"This is, indeed, strange!" laughed Feng Tzu-ying. "When have you and I +had, during all these years, to have recourse to such proceedings! I +really am unable to comply with your wishes. But if you do insist upon +making me have a drink, well, then bring a large cup and I'll take two +cups full and finish." + +After this rejoinder, the party could not but give in. Hsueeh P'an took +hold of the kettle, while Pao-yue grasped the cup, and they poured two +large cups full. Feng Tzu-ying stood up and quaffed them with one +draught. + +"But do, after all," urged Pao-yue, "finish this thing about a piece of +good fortune in the midst of misfortune before you go." + +"To tell you this to-day," smiled Feng Tzu-ying, "will be no great fun. +But for this purpose I intend standing a special entertainment, and +inviting you all to come and have a long chat; and, in the second place, +I've also got a favour to ask of you." + +Saying this, he pushed his way and was going off at once, when Hsueeh +P'an interposed. "What you've said," he observed, "has put us more than +ever on pins and needles. We cannot brook any delay. Who knows when you +will ask us round; so better tell us, and thus avoid keeping people in +suspense!" + +"The latest," rejoined Feng Tzu-ying, "in ten days; the earliest in +eight." With this answer he went out of the door, mounted his horse, and +took his departure. + +The party resumed their seats at table. They had another bout, and then +eventually dispersed. + +Pao-yue returned into the garden in time to find Hsi Jen thinking with +solicitude that he had gone to see Chia Cheng and wondering whether it +foreboded good or evil. As soon as she perceived Pao-yue come back in a +drunken state, she felt urged to inquire the reason of it all. Pao-yue +told her one by one the particulars of what happened. + +"People," added Hsi Jen, "wait for you with lacerated heart and anxious +mind, and there you go and make merry; yet you could very well, after +all, have sent some one with a message." + +"Didn't I purpose sending a message?" exclaimed Pao-yue. "Of course, I +did! But I failed to do so, as on the arrival of friend Feng, I got so +mixed up that the intention vanished entirely from my mind." + +While excusing himself, he saw Pao-ch'ai enter the apartment. "Have you +tasted any of our new things?" she asked, a smile curling her lips. + +"Cousin," laughed Pao-yue, "you must have certainly tasted what you've +got in your house long before us." + +Pao-ch'ai shook her head and smiled. "Yesterday," she said, "my brother +did actually make it a point to ask me to have some; but I had none; I +told him to keep them and send them to others, so confident am I that +with my mean lot and scanty blessings I little deserve to touch such +dainties." + +As she spoke, a servant-girl poured her a cup of tea and brought it to +her. While she sipped it, she carried on a conversation on irrelevant +matters; which we need not notice, but turn our attention to Lin Tai-yue. + +The instant she heard that Chia Cheng had sent for Pao-yue, and that he +had not come back during the whole day, she felt very distressed on his +account. After supper, the news of Pao-yue's return reached her, and she +keenly longed to see him and ask him what was up. Step by step she +trudged along, when espying Pao-ch'ai going into Pao-yue's garden, she +herself followed close in her track. But on their arrival at the Hsin +Fang bridge, she caught sight of the various kinds of water-fowl, +bathing together in the pond, and although unable to discriminate the +numerous species, her gaze became so transfixed by their respective +variegated and bright plumage and by their exceptional beauty, that she +halted. And it was after she had spent some considerable time in +admiring them that she repaired at last to the I Hung court. The gate +was already closed. Tai-yue, however, lost no time in knocking. But +Ch'ing Wen and Pi Hen had, who would have thought it, been having a +tiff, and were in a captious mood, so upon unawares seeing Pao-ch'ai +step on the scene, Ch'ing Wen at once visited her resentment upon +Pao-ch'ai. She was just standing in the court giving vent to her wrongs, +shouting: "You're always running over and seating yourself here, whether +you've got good reason for doing so or not; and there's no sleep for us +at the third watch, the middle of the night though it be," when, all of +a sudden, she heard some one else calling at the door. Ch'ing Wen was +the more moved to anger. Without even asking who it was, she rapidly +bawled out: "They've all gone to sleep; you'd better come to-morrow." + +Lin Tai-yue was well aware of the natural peculiarities of the +waiting-maids, and of their habit of playing practical jokes upon each +other, so fearing that the girl in the inner room had failed to +recognise her voice, and had refused to open under the misconception +that it was some other servant-girl, she gave a second shout in a higher +pitch. "It's I!" she cried, "don't you yet open the gate?" + +Ch'ing Wen, as it happened, did not still distinguish her voice; and in +an irritable strain, she rejoined: "It's no matter who you may be; Mr. +Secundus has given orders that no one at all should be allowed to come +in." + +As these words reached Lin Tai-yue's ear, she unwittingly was overcome +with indignation at being left standing outside. But when on the point +of raising her voice to ask her one or two things, and to start a +quarrel with her; "albeit," she again argued mentally, "I can call this +my aunt's house, and it should be just as if it were my own, it's, after +all, a strange place, and now that my father and mother are both dead, +and that I am left with no one to rely upon, I have for the present to +depend upon her family for a home. Were I now therefore to give way to a +regular fit of anger with her, I'll really get no good out of it." + +While indulging in reflection, tears trickled from her eyes. But just as +she was feeling unable to retrace her steps, and unable to remain +standing any longer, and quite at a loss what to do, she overheard the +sound of jocular language inside, and listening carefully, she +discovered that it was, indeed, Pao-yue and Pao-ch'ai. Lin Tai-yue waxed +more wroth. After much thought and cogitation, the incidents of the +morning flashed unawares through her memory. "It must, in fact," she +mused, "be because Pao-yue is angry with me for having explained to him +the true reasons. But why did I ever go and tell you? You should, +however, have made inquiries before you lost your temper to such an +extent with me as to refuse to let me in to-day; but is it likely that +we shall not by and bye meet face to face again?" + +The more she gave way to thought, the more she felt wounded and +agitated; and without heeding the moss, laden with cold dew, the path +covered with vegetation, and the chilly blasts of wind, she lingered all +alone, under the shadow of the bushes at the corner of the wall, so +thoroughly sad and dejected that she broke forth into sobs. + +Lin Tai-yue was, indeed, endowed with exceptional beauty and with charms +rarely met with in the world. As soon therefore as she suddenly melted +into tears, and the birds and rooks roosting on the neighbouring willow +boughs and branches of shrubs caught the sound of her plaintive tones, +they one and all fell into a most terrific flutter, and, taking to their +wings, they flew away to distant recesses, so little were they able to +listen with equanimity to such accents. But the spirits of the flowers +were, at the time, silent and devoid of feeling, the birds were plunged +in dreams and in a state of stupor, so why did they start? A stanza +appositely assigns the reason:-- + + P'in Erh's mental talents and looks must in the world be rare--. + Alone, clasped in a subtle smell, she quits her maiden room. + The sound of but one single sob scarcely dies away, + And drooping flowers cover the ground and birds fly in dismay. + +Lin Tai-yue was sobbing in her solitude, when a creaking noise struck her +ear and the door of the court was flung open. Who came out, is not yet +ascertained; but, reader, should you wish to know, the next chapter will +explain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + In the Ti Ts'ui pavilion, Pao-ch'ai diverts herself with the + multi-coloured butterflies. + Over the mound, where the flowers had been interred, Tai-yue bewails + their withered bloom. + + +Lin Tai-yue, we must explain in taking up the thread of our narrative, +was disconsolately bathed in tears, when her ear was suddenly attracted +by the creak of the court gate, and her eyes by the appearance of +Pao-ch'ai beyond the threshold. Pao-yue, Hsi Jen and a whole posse of +inmates then walked out. She felt inclined to go up to Pao-yue and ask +him a question; but dreading that if she made any inquiries in the +presence of such a company, Pao-yue would be put to the blush and placed +in an awkward position, she slipped aside and allowed Pao-ch'ai to +prosecute her way. And it was only after Pao-yue and the rest of the +party had entered and closed the gate behind them that she at last +issued from her retreat. Then fixing her gaze steadfastly on the +gateway, she dropped a few tears. But inwardly conscious of their utter +futility she retraced her footsteps and wended her way back into her +apartment. And with heavy heart and despondent spirits, she divested +herself of the remainder of her habiliments. + +Tzu Chuean and Hsueeh Yen were well aware, from the experience they had +reaped in past days, that Lin Tai-yue was, in the absence of anything to +occupy her mind, prone to sit and mope, and that if she did not frown +her eyebrows, she anyway heaved deep sighs; but they were quite at a +loss to divine why she was, with no rhyme or reason, ever so ready to +indulge, to herself, in inexhaustible gushes of tears. At first, there +were such as still endeavoured to afford her solace; or who, suspecting +lest she brooded over the memory of her father and mother, felt +home-sick, or aggrieved, through some offence given her, tried by every +persuasion to console and cheer her; but, as contrary to all +expectations, she subsequently persisted time and again in this dull +mood, through each succeeding month and year, people got accustomed to +her eccentricities and did not extend to her the least sympathy. Hence +it was that no one (on this occasion) troubled her mind about her, but +letting her sit and sulk to her heart's content, they one and all turned +in and went to sleep. + +Lin Tai-yue leaned against the railing of the bed, clasping her knees +with both hands, her eyes suffused with tears. She looked, in very +truth, like a carved wooden image or one fashioned of mud. There she sat +straight up to the second watch, even later, when she eventually fell +asleep. + +The whole night nothing remarkable transpired. The morrow was the 26th +day of the fourth moon. Indeed on this day, at one p.m., commenced the +season of the 'Sprouting seeds,' and, according to an old custom, on the +day on which this feast of 'Sprouting seeds' fell, every one had to lay +all kinds of offerings and sacrificial viands on the altar of the god of +flowers. Soon after the expiry of this season of 'Sprouting seeds' +follows summertide, and us plants in general then wither and the god of +flowers resigns his throne, it is compulsory to feast him at some +entertainment, previous to his departure. + +In the ladies' apartments this custom was observed with still more +rigour; and, for this reason, the various inmates Of the park of Broad +Vista had, without a single exception, got up at an early hour. The +young people either twisted flowers and willow twigs in such a way as to +represent chairs and horses, or made tufted banners with damask, +brocaded gauze and silk, and bound them with variegated threads. These +articles of decoration were alike attached on every tree and plant; and +throughout the whole expanse of the park, embroidered sashes waved to +and fro, and ornamented branches nodded their heads about. In addition +to this, the members of the family were clad in such fineries that they +put the peach tree to shame, made the almond yield the palm, the swallow +envious and the hawk to blush. We could not therefore exhaustively +describe them within our limited space of time. + +Pao-ch'ai, Ying Ch'un, T'an Ch'un, Hsi Ch'un, Li Wan, lady Feng and +other girls, as well as Ta Chieh Erh, Hsiang Ling and the waiting-maids +were, one and all, we will now notice, in the garden enjoying +themselves; the only person who could not be seen was Lin Tai-yue. + +"How is it," consequently inquired Ying Ch'un, "that I don't see cousin +Liu? What a lazy girl! Is she forsooth fast asleep even at this late +hour of the day?" + +"Wait all of you here," rejoined Pao-ch'ai, "and I'll go and shake her +up and bring her." + +With these words, she speedily left her companions and repaired +straightway into the Hsiao Hsiang lodge. + +While she was going on her errand, she met Wen Kuan and the rest of the +girls, twelve in all, on their way to seek the party. Drawing near, they +inquired after her health. After exchanging a few commonplace remarks, +Pao-ch'ai turned round and pointing, said: "you will find them all in +there; you had better go and join them. As for me, I'm going to fetch +Miss Lin, but I'll be back soon." + +Saying this, she followed the winding path, and came to the Hsiao Hsiang +lodge. Upon suddenly raising her eyes, she saw Pao-yue walk in. Pao-ch'ai +immediately halted, and, lowering her head, she gave way to meditation +for a time. "Pao-yue and Lin Tai-yue," she reflected, "have grown up +together from their very infancy. But cousins, though they be, there are +many instances in which they cannot evade suspicion, for they joke +without heeding propriety; and at one time they are friends and at +another at daggers drawn. Tai-yue has, moreover, always been full of +envy; and has ever displayed a peevish disposition, so were I to follow +him in at this juncture, why, Pao-yue would, in the first place, not feel +at ease, and, in the second, Tai-yue would give way to jealousy. Better +therefore for me to turn back." + +At the close of this train of thought, she retraced her steps. But just +as she was starting to join her other cousins, she unexpectedly +descried, ahead of her, a pair of jade-coloured butterflies, of the size +of a circular fan. Now they soared high, now they made a swoop down, in +their flight against the breeze; much to her amusement. + +Pao-ch'ai felt a wish to catch them for mere fun's sake, so producing a +fan from inside her sleeve, she descended on to the turfed ground to +flap them with it. The two butterflies suddenly were seen to rise; +suddenly to drop: sometimes to come; at others to go. Just as they were +on the point of flying across the stream to the other side, the +enticement proved too much for Pao-ch'ai, and she pursued them on tiptoe +straight up to the Ti Ts'ui pavilion, nestling on the bank of the pond; +while fragrant perspiration dripped drop by drop, and her sweet breath +panted gently. But Pao-ch'ai abandoned the idea of catching them, and +was about to beat a retreat, when all at once she overheard, in the +pavilion, the chatter of people engaged in conversation. + +This pavilion had, it must be added, a verandah and zig-zag balustrades +running all round. It was erected over the water, in the centre of a +pond, and had on the four sides window-frames of carved wood work, stuck +with paper. So when Pao-ch'ai caught, from without the pavilion, the +sound of voices, she at once stood still and lent an attentive ear to +what was being said. + +"Look at this handkerchief," she overheard. "If it's really the one +you've lost, well then keep it; but if it isn't you must return it to +Mr. Yuen." + +"To be sure it is my own," another party observed, "bring it along and +give it to me." + +"What reward will you give me?" she further heard. "Is it likely that +I've searched all for nothing!" + +"I've long ago promised to recompense you, and of course I won't play +you false," some one again rejoined. + +"I found it and brought it round," also reached her ear, "and you +naturally will recompense me; but won't you give anything to the person +who picked it up?" + +"Don't talk nonsense," the other party added, "he belongs to a family of +gentlemen, and anything of ours he may pick up it's his bounden duty to +restore to us. What reward could you have me give him?" + +"If you don't reward him," she heard some one continue, "what will I be +able to tell him? Besides, he enjoined me time after time that if there +was to be no recompense, I was not to give it to you." + +A short pause ensued. "Never mind!" then came out again to her, "take +this thing of mine and present it to him and have done! But do you mean +to let the cat out of the bag with any one else? You should take some +oath." + +"If I tell any one," she likewise overheard, "may an ulcer grow on my +mouth, and may I, in course of time, die an unnatural death!" + +"Ai-ya!" was the reply she heard; "our minds are merely bent upon +talking, but some one might come and quietly listen from outside; +wouldn't it be as well to push all the venetians open. Any one seeing us +in here will then imagine that we are simply chatting about nonsense. +Besides, should they approach, we shall be able to observe them, and at +once stop our conversation!" + +Pao-ch'ai listened to these words from outside, with a heart full of +astonishment. "How can one wonder," she argued mentally, "if all those +lewd and dishonest people, who have lived from olden times to the +present, have devised such thorough artifices! But were they now to open +and see me here, won't they feel ashamed. Moreover, the voice in which +those remarks were uttered resembles very much that of Hung Erh, +attached to Pao-yue's rooms, who has all along shown a sharp eye and a +shrewd mind. She's an artful and perverse thing of the first class! And +as I have now overheard her peccadilloes, and a person in despair rebels +as sure as a dog in distress jumps over the wall, not only will trouble +arise, but I too shall derive no benefit. It would be better at present +therefore for me to lose no time in retiring. But as I fear I mayn't be +in time to get out of the way, the only alternative for me is to make +use of some art like that of the cicada, which can divest itself of its +_exuviae_." + +She had scarcely brought her reflections to a close before a sound of +'ko-chih' reached her ears. Pao-ch'ai purposely hastened to tread with +heavy step. "P'in Erh, I see where you're hiding!" she cried out +laughingly; and as she shouted, she pretended to be running ahead in +pursuit of her. + +As soon as Hsiao Hung and Chui Erh pushed the windows open from inside +the pavilion, they heard Pao-ch'ai screaming, while rushing forward; and +both fell into a state of trepidation from the fright they sustained. + +Pao-ch'ai turned round and faced them. "Where have you been hiding Miss +Lin?" she smiled. + +"Who has seen anything of Miss Lin," retorted Chui Erh. + +"I was just now," proceeded Pao-ch'ai, "on that side of the pool, and +discerned Miss Lin squatting down over there and playing with the water. +I meant to have gently given her a start, but scarcely had I walked up +to her, when she saw me, and, with a _detour_ towards the East, she +at once vanished from sight. So mayn't she be concealing herself in +there?" + +As she spoke, she designedly stepped in and searched about for her. This +over, she betook herself away, adding: "she's certain to have got again +into that cave in the hill, and come across a snake, which must have +bitten her and put an end to her." + +So saying, she distanced them, feeling again very much amused. "I have +managed," she thought, "to ward off this piece of business, but I wonder +what those two think about it." + +Hsiao Hung, who would have anticipated, readily credited as gospel the +remarks she heard Pao-ch'ai make. But allowing just time enough to +Pao-ch'ai to got to a certain distance, she instantly drew Chui Erh to +her. "Dreadful!" she observed, "Miss Lin was squatting in here and must +for a certainty have overheard what we said before she left." + +Albeit Chui Erh listened to her words, she kept her own counsel for a +long time. "What's to be done?" Hsiao Hung consequently exclaimed. + +"Even supposing she did overhear what we said," rejoined Chui Erh by way +of answer, "why should she meddle in what does not concern her? Every +one should mind her own business." + +"Had it been Miss Pao, it would not have mattered," remarked Hsiao Hung, +"but Miss Lin delights in telling mean things of people and is, besides, +so petty-minded. Should she have heard and anything perchance comes to +light, what will we do?" + +During their colloquy, they noticed Wen Kuan, Hsiang Ling, Ssu Ch'i, +Shih Shu and the other girls enter the pavilion, so they were compelled +to drop the conversation and to play and laugh with them. They then +espied lady Feng standing on the top of the hillock, waving her hand, +beckoning to Hsiao Hung. Hurriedly therefore leaving the company, she +ran up to lady Feng and with smile heaped upon smile, "my lady," she +inquired, "what is it that you want?" + +Lady Feng scrutinised her for a time. Observing how spruce and pretty +she was in looks, and how genial in her speech, she felt prompted to +give her a smile. "My own waiting-maid," she said, "hasn't followed me +in here to-day; and as I've just this moment bethought myself of +something and would like to send some one on an errand, I wonder whether +you're fit to undertake the charge and deliver a message faithfully." + +"Don't hesitate in entrusting me with any message you may have to send," +replied Hsiao Hung with a laugh. "I'll readily go and deliver it. Should +I not do so faithfully, and blunder in fulfilling your business, my +lady, you may visit me with any punishment your ladyship may please, and +I'll have nothing to say." + +"What young lady's servant are you," smiled lady Feng? "Tell me, so that +when she comes back, after I've sent you out, and looks for you, I may +be able to tell her about you." + +"I'm attached to our Master Secundus,' Mr. Pao's rooms," answered Hsiao +Hung. + +"Ai-ya!" ejaculated lady Feng, as soon as she heard these words. "Are +you really in Pao-yue's rooms! How strange! Yet it comes to the same +thing. Well, if he asks for you, I'll tell him where you are. Go now to +our house and tell your sister P'ing that she'll find on the table in +the outer apartment and under the stand with the plate from the Ju kiln, +a bundle of silver; that it contains the one hundred and twenty taels +for the embroiderers' wages; and that when Chang Ts'ai's wife comes, the +money should be handed to her to take away, after having been weighed in +her presence and been given to her to tally. Another thing too I want. +In the inner apartment and at the head of the bed you'll find a small +purse, bring it along to me." + +Hsiao Hung listened to her orders and then started to carry them out. On +her return, in a short while, she discovered that lady Feng was not on +the hillock. But perceiving Ssu Ch'i egress from the cave and stand +still to tie her petticoat, she walked up to her. "Sister, do you know +where our lady Secunda is gone to?" she asked. + +"I didn't notice," rejoined Ssu Ch'i. + +At this reply, Hsiao Hung turned round and cast a glance on all four +quarters. Seeing T'an Ch'un and Pao-ch'ai standing by the bank of the +pond on the opposite side and looking at the fish, Hsiao Hung advanced +up to them. "Young ladies," she said, straining a smile, "do you +perchance have any idea where our lady Secunda is gone to now?" + +"Go into your senior lady's court and look for her!" T'an Ch'un +answered. + +Hearing this, Hsiao Hung was proceeding immediately towards the Tao +Hsiang village, when she caught sight, just ahead of her, of Ch'ing Wen, +Ch'i Hsia, Pi Hen, Ch'iu Wen, She Yueeh, Shih Shu, Ju Hua, Ying Erh and +some other girls coming towards her in a group. + +The moment Ch'ing Wen saw Hsiao Hung, she called out to her. "Are you +gone clean off your head?" she exclaimed. "You don't water the flowers, +nor feed the birds or prepare the tea stove, but gad about outside!" + +"Yesterday," replied Hsiao Hung, "Mr. Secundus told me that there was no +need for me to water the flowers to-day; that it was enough if they were +watered every other day. As for the birds, you're still in the arms of +Morpheus, sister, when I give them their food." + +"And what about the tea-stove?" interposed Pi Hen. + +"To-day," retorted Hsiao Hung, "is not my turn on duty, so don't ask me +whether there be any tea or not!" + +"Do you listen to that mouth of hers!" cried Ch'i Hsia, "but don't you +girls speak to her; let her stroll about and have done!" + +"You'd better all go and ask whether I've been gadding about or not," +continued Hsiao Hung. "Our lady Secunda has just bidden me go and +deliver a message, and fetch something." + +Saying this, she raised the purse and let them see it; and they, finding +they could hit upon nothing more to taunt her with, trudged along +onwards. + +Ch'ing Wen smiled a sarcastic smile. "How funny!" she cried. "Lo, she +climbs up a high branch and doesn't condescend to look at any one of us! +All she told her must have been just some word or two, who knows! But is +it likely that our lady has the least notion of her name or surname that +she rides such a high horse, and behaves in this manner! What credit is +it in having been sent on a trifling errand like this! Will we, by and +bye, pray, hear anything more about you? If you've got any gumption, +you'd better skedaddle out of this garden this very day. For, mind, it's +only if you manage to hold your lofty perch for any length of time that +you can be thought something of!" + +As she derided her, she continued on her way. + +During this while, Hsiao Hung listened to her, but as she did not find +it a suitable moment to retaliate, she felt constrained to suppress her +resentment and go in search of lady Feng. + +On her arrival at widow Li's quarters, she, in point of fact, discovered +lady Feng seated inside with her having a chat. Hsiao Hung approached +her and made her report. "Sister P'ing says," she observed, "that as +soon as your ladyship left the house, she put the money by, and that +when Chang Ts'ai's wife went in a little time to fetch it, she had it +weighed in her presence, after which she gave it to her to take away." + +With these words, she produced the purse and presented it to her. +"Sister P'ing bade me come and tell your ladyship," she added, +continuing, "that Wang Erh came just now to crave your orders, as to who +are the parties from whom he has to go and (collect interest on money +due) and sister P'ing explained to him what your wishes were and sent +him off." + +"How could she tell him where I wanted him to go?" Lady Feng laughed. + +"Sister P'ing says," Hsiao Hung proceeded, "that our lady presents her +compliments to your ladyship (widow Li) here-(_To lady Feng_) that +our master Secundus has in fact not come home, and that albeit a delay +of (a day) or two will take place (in the collection of the money), your +ladyship should, she begs, set your mind at ease. (_To Li Wan_). +That when lady Quinta is somewhat better, our lady will let lady Quinta +know and come along with her to see your ladyship. (_To lady +Feng_). That lady Quinta sent a servant the day before yesterday to +come over and say that our lady, your worthy maternal aunt, had +despatched a letter to inquire after your ladyship's health; that she +also wished to ask you, my lady, her worthy niece in here, for a couple +of 'long-life-great-efficacy-full-of-every-virtue' pills; and that if +you have any, they should, when our lady bids a servant come over, be +simply given her to bring to our lady here, and that any one bound +to-morrow for that side could then deliver them on her way to her +ladyship, your aunt yonder, to take along with her." + +"Ai-yo-yo!" exclaimed widow Li, before the close of the message. "It's +impossible for me to make out what you're driving at! What a heap of +ladyships and misters!" + +"It's not to be wondered at that you can't make them out," interposed +lady Feng laughing. "Why, her remarks refer to four or five distinct +families." + +While speaking, she again faced Hsiao Hung. "My dear girl," she smiled, +"what a trouble you've been put to! But you speak decently, and unlike +the others who keep on buzz-buzz-buzz, like mosquitoes! You're not +aware, sister-in-law, that I actually dread uttering a word to any of +the girls outside the few servant-girls and matrons in my own immediate +service; for they invariably spin out, what could be condensed in a +single phrase, into a long interminable yarn, and they munch and chew +their words; and sticking to a peculiar drawl, they groan and moan; so +much so, that they exasperate me till I fly into a regular rage. Yet how +are they to know that our P'ing Erh too was once like them. But when I +asked her: 'must you forsooth imitate the humming of a mosquito, in +order to be accounted a handsome girl?' and spoke to her, on several +occasions, she at length improved considerably." + +"What a good thing it would be," laughed Li Kung-ts'ai, "if they could +all be as smart as you are." + +"This girl is first-rate!" rejoined lady Feng, "she just now delivered +two messages. They didn't, I admit, amount to much, yet to listen to +her, she spoke to the point." + +"To-morrow," she continued, addressing herself to Hsiao Hung smilingly, +"come and wait on me, and I'll acknowledge you as my daughter; and the +moment you come under my control, you'll readily improve." + +At this news, Hsiao Hung spurted out laughing aloud. + +"What are you laughing for?" Lady Feng inquired. "You must say to +yourself that I am young in years and that how much older can I be than +yourself to become your mother; but are you under the influence of a +spring dream? Go and ask all those people older than yourself. They +would be only too ready to call me mother. But snapping my fingers at +them, I to-day exalt you." + +"I wasn't laughing about that," Hsiao Hung answered with a smiling face. +"I was amused by the mistake your ladyship made about our generations. +Why, my mother claims to be your daughter, my lady, and are you now +going to recognise me too as your daughter?" + +"Who's your mother?" Lady Feng exclaimed. + +"Don't you actually know her?" put in Li Kung-ts'ai with a smile. "She's +Lin Chih-hsiao's child." + +This disclosure greatly surprised lady Feng. "What!" she consequently +cried, "is she really his daughter?" + +"Why Lin Chih-hsiao and his wife," she resumed smilingly, "couldn't +either of them utter a sound if even they were pricked with an awl. +I've always maintained that they're a well-suited couple; as the one is +as deaf as a post, and the other as dumb as a mute. But who would ever +have expected them to have such a clever girl! By how much are you in +your teens?" + +"I'm seventeen," replied Hsia Hung. + +"What is your name?" she went on to ask. + +"My name was once Hung Yue." Hsiao Hung rejoined. "But as it was a +duplicate of that of Master Secundus, Mr. Pao-yue, I'm now simply called +Hsiao Hung." + +Upon hearing this explanation, lady Feng raised her eyebrows into a +frown, and turning her head round: "It's most disgusting!" she remarked, +"Those bearing the name Yue would seem to be very cheap; for your name is +Yue, and so is also mine Yue. Sister-in-law," she then observed; "I never +let you know anything about it, but I mentioned to her mother that Lai +Ta's wife has at present her hands quite full, and that she hasn't +either any notion as to who is who in this mansion. 'You had better,' (I +said), 'carefully select a couple of girls for my service.' She assented +unreservedly, but she put it off and never chose any. On the contrary, +she sent this girl to some other place. But is it likely that she +wouldn't have been well off with me?" + +"Here you are again full of suspicion!" Li Wan laughed. "She came in +here long before you ever breathed a word to her! So how could you bear +a grudge against her mother?" + +"Well, in that case," added lady Feng, "I'll speak to Pao-yue to-morrow, +and induce him to find another one, and to allow this girl to come along +with me. I wonder, however, whether she herself is willing or not?" + +"Whether willing or not," interposed Hsiao Hung smiling, "such as we +couldn't really presume to raise our voices and object. We should feel +it our privilege to serve such a one as your ladyship, and learn a +little how to discriminate when people raise or drop their eyebrows and +eyes (with pleasure or displeasure), and reap as well some experience in +such matters as go out or come in, whether high or low, great and +small." + +But during her reply, she perceived Madame Wang's waiting-maid come and +invite lady Feng to go over. Lady Feng bade good-bye at once to Li +Kung-ts'ai and took her departure. + +Hsiao Hung then returned into the I Hung court, where we will leave her +and devote our attention for the present to Lin Tai-yue. + +As she had had but little sleep in the night, she got up the next day at +a late hour. When she heard that all her cousins were collected in the +park, giving a farewell entertainment for the god of flowers, she +hastened, for fear people should laugh at her for being lazy, to comb +her hair, perform her ablutions, and go out and join them. As soon as +she reached the interior of the court, she caught sight of Pao-yue, +entering the door, who speedily greeted her with a smile. "My dear +cousin," he said, "did you lodge a complaint against me yesterday? I've +been on pins and needles the whole night long." + +Tai-yue forthwith turned her head away. "Put the room in order," she +shouted to Tzu Chuean, "and lower one of the gauze window-frames. And +when you've seen the swallows come back, drop the curtain; keep it down +then by placing the lion on it, and after you have burnt the incense, +mind you cover the censer." + +So saying she stepped outside. + +Pao-yue perceiving her manner, concluded again that it must be on account +of the incident of the previous noon, but how could he have had any idea +about what had happened in the evening? He kept on still bowing and +curtseying; but Lin Tai-yue did not even so much as look at him straight +in the face, but egressing alone out of the door of the court, she +proceeded there and then in search of the other girls. + +Pao-yue fell into a despondent mood and gave way to conjectures. + +"Judging," he reflected, "from this behaviour of hers, it would seem as +if it could not be for what transpired yesterday. Yesterday too I came +back late in the evening, and, what's more, I didn't see her, so that +there was no occasion on which I could have given her offence." + +As he indulged in these reflections, he involuntarily followed in her +footsteps to try and catch her up, when he descried Pao-ch'ai and +T'an-ch'un on the opposite side watching the frolics of the storks. + +As soon as they saw Tai-yue approach, the trio stood together and started +a friendly chat. But noticing Pao-yue also come up, T'an Ch'un smiled. +"Brother Pao," she said, "are you all right. It's just three days that I +haven't seen anything of you?" + +"Are you sister quite well?" Pao-yue rejoined, a smile on his lips. "The +other day, I asked news of you of our senior sister-in-law." + +"Brother Pao," T'an Ch'un remarked, "come over here; I want to tell you +something." + +The moment Pao-yue heard this, he quickly went with her. Distancing +Pao-ch'ai and Tai-yue, the two of them came under a pomegranate tree. +"Has father sent for you these last few days?" T'an Ch'un then asked. + +"He hasn't," Pao-yue answered laughingly by way of reply. + +"Yesterday," proceeded T'an Ch'un, "I heard vaguely something or other +about father sending for you to go out." + +"I presume," Pao-yue smiled, "that some one must have heard wrong, for he +never sent for me." + +"I've again managed to save during the last few months," added T'an +Ch'un with another smile, "fully ten tiaos, so take them and bring me, +when at any time you stroll out of doors, either some fine writings or +some ingenious knicknack." + +"Much as I have roamed inside and outside the city walls," answered +Pao-yue, "and seen grand establishments and large temples, I've never +come across anything novel or pretty. One simply sees articles made of +gold, jade, copper and porcelain, as well as such curios for which we +could find no place here. Besides these, there are satins, eatables, and +wearing apparel." + +"Who cares for such baubles!" exclaimed T'an Ch'un. "How could they come +up to what you purchased the last time; that wee basket, made of willow +twigs, that scent-box, scooped out of a root of real bamboo, that +portable stove fashioned of glutinous clay; these things were, oh, so +very nice! I was as fond of them as I don't know what; but, who'd have +thought it, they fell in love with them and bundled them all off, just +as if they were precious things." + +"Is it things of this kind that you really want?" laughed Pao-yue. "Why, +these are worth nothing! Were you to take a hundred cash and give them +to the servant-boys, they could, I'm sure, bring two cart-loads of +them." + +"What do the servant-boys know?" T'an Ch'un replied. "Those you chose +for me were plain yet not commonplace. Neither were they of coarse make. +So were you to procure me as many as you can get of them, I'll work you +a pair of slippers like those I gave you last time, and spend twice as +much trouble over them as I did over that pair you have. Now, what do +you say to this bargain?" + +"Your reference to this," smiled Pao-yue, "reminds me of an old incident. +One day I had them on, and by a strange coincidence, I met father, whose +fancy they did not take, and he inquired who had worked them. But how +could I muster up courage to allude to the three words: my sister +Tertia, so I answered that my maternal aunt had given them to me on the +recent occasion of my birthday. When father heard that they had been +given to me by my aunt, he could not very well say anything. But after a +while, 'why uselessly waste,' he observed, 'human labour, and throw away +silks to make things of this sort!' On my return, I told Hsi Jen about +it. 'Never mind,' said Hsi Jen; but Mrs. Chao got angry. 'Her own +brother,' she murmured indignantly, 'wears slipshod shoes and socks in +holes, and there's no one to look after him, and does she go and work +all these things!'" + +T'an Ch'un, hearing this, immediately lowered her face. "Now tell me, +aren't these words utter rot!" she shouted. "What am I that I have to +make shoes? And is it likely that Huan Erh hasn't his own share of +things! Clothes are clothes, and shoes and socks are shoes and socks; +and how is it that any grudges arise in the room of a mere servant-girl +and old matron? For whose benefit does she come out with all these +things! I simply work a pair or part of a pair when I am at leisure, +with time on my hands. And I can give them to any brother, elder or +younger, I fancy; and who has a right to interfere with me? This is just +another bit of blind anger!" + +After listening to her, Pao-yue nodded his head and smiled. "Yet," he +said, "you don't know what her motives may be. It's but natural that she +should also cherish some expectations." + +This apology incensed T'an Ch'un more than ever, and twisting her head +round, "Even you have grown dull!" she cried. "She does, of course, +indulge in expectations, but they are actuated by some underhand and +paltry notion! She may go on giving way to these ideas, but I, for my +part, will only care for Mr. Chia Cheng and Madame Wang. I won't care a +rap for any one else. In fact, I'll be nice with such of my sisters and +brothers, as are nice to me; and won't even draw any distinction between +those born of primary wives and those of secondary ones. Properly +speaking, I shouldn't say these things about her, but she's +narrow-minded to a degree, and unlike what she should be. There's +besides another ridiculous thing. This took place the last time I gave +you the money to get me those trifles. Well, two days after that, she +saw me, and she began again to represent that she had no money and that +she was hard up. Nevertheless, I did not worry my brain with her goings +on. But as it happened, the servant-girls subsequently quitted the room, +and she at once started finding fault with me. 'Why,' she asked, 'do I +give you my savings to spend and don't, after all, let Huan Erh have +them and enjoy them?' When I heard these reproaches, I felt both +inclined to laugh, and also disposed to lose my temper; but I there and +then skedaddled out of her quarters, and went over to our Madame Wang." + +As she was recounting this incident, "Well," she overheard Pao-ch'ai +sarcastically observe from the opposite direction, "have you done +spinning your yarns? If you have, come along! It's quite evident that +you are brother and sister, for here you leave every one else and go and +discuss your own private matters. Couldn't we too listen to a single +sentence of what you have to say?" + +While she taunted them, T'an Ch'un and Pao-yue eventually drew near her +with smiling faces. + +Pao-yue, however, failed to see Lin Tai-yue and he concluded that she had +dodged out of the way and gone elsewhere. "It would be better," he +muttered, after some thought, "that I should let two days elapse, and +give her temper time to evaporate before I go to her." But as he drooped +his head, his eye was attracted by a heap of touch-me-nots, pomegranate +blossom and various kinds of fallen flowers, which covered the ground +thick as tapestry, and he heaved a sigh. "It's because," he pondered, +"she's angry that she did not remove these flowers; but I'll take them +over to the place, and by and bye ask her about them." + +As he argued to himself, he heard Pao-ch'ai bid them go out. "I'll join +you in a moment," Pao-yue replied; and waiting till his two cousins had +gone some distance, he bundled the flowers into his coat, and ascending +the hill, he crossed the stream, penetrated into the arbour, passed +through the avenues with flowers and wended his way straight for the +spot, where he had, on a previous occasion, interred the peach-blossoms +with the assistance of Lin Tai-yue. But scarcely had he reached the mound +containing the flowers, and before he had, as yet, rounded the brow of +the hill, than he caught, emanating from the off side, the sound of some +one sobbing, who while giving way to invective, wept in a most +heart-rending way. + +"I wonder," soliloquised Pao-yue, "whose servant-girl this is, who has +been so aggrieved as to run over here to have a good cry!" + +While speculating within himself, he halted. He then heard, mingled with +wails:-- + + Flowers wither and decay; and flowers do fleet; they fly all o'er the + skies; + Their bloom wanes; their smell dies; but who is there with them to + sympathise? + While vagrant gossamer soft doth on fluttering spring-bowers bind its + coils, + And drooping catkins lightly strike and cling on the embroidered + screens, + A maiden in the inner rooms, I sore deplore the close of spring. + Such ceaseless sorrow fills my breast, that solace nowhere can I find. + Past the embroidered screen I issue forth, taking with me a hoe, + And on the faded flowers to tread I needs must, as I come and go. + The willow fibres and elm seeds have each a fragrance of their own. + What care I, peach blossoms may fall, pear flowers away be blown; + Yet peach and pear will, when next year returns, burst out again in + bloom, + But can it e'er be told who will next year dwell in the inner room? + What time the third moon comes, the scented nests have been already + built. + And on the beams the swallows perch, excessive spiritless and staid; + Next year, when the flowers bud, they may, it's true, have ample to + feed on: + But they know not that when I'm gone beams will be vacant and nests + fall! + In a whole year, which doth consist of three hundred and sixty days, + Winds sharp as swords and frost like unto spears each other rigorous + press, + So that how long can last their beauty bright; their fresh charm how + long stays? + Sudden they droop and fly; and whither they have flown, 'tis hard to + guess. + Flowers, while in bloom, easy the eye attract; but, when they wither, + hard they are to find. + Now by the footsteps, I bury the flowers, but sorrow will slay me. + Alone I stand, and as I clutch the hoe, silent tears trickle down, + And drip on the bare twigs, leaving behind them the traces of blood. + The goatsucker hath sung his song, the shades lower of eventide, + So with the lotus hoe I return home and shut the double doors. + Upon the wall the green lamp sheds its rays just as I go to sleep. + The cover is yet cold; against the window patters the bleak rain. + How strange! Why can it ever be that I feel so wounded at heart! + Partly, because spring I regret; partly, because with spring I'm + vexed! + Regret for spring, because it sudden comes; vexed, for it sudden goes. + For without warning, lo! it comes; and without asking it doth fleet. + Yesterday night, outside the hall sorrowful songs burst from my mouth, + For I found out that flowers decay, and that birds also pass away. + The soul of flowers, and the spirit of birds are both hard to + restrain. + Birds, to themselves when left, in silence plunge; and flowers, alone, + they blush. + Oh! would that on my sides a pair of wings could grow, + That to the end of heaven I may fly in the wake of flowers! + Yea to the very end of heaven, + Where I could find a fragrant grave! + For better, is it not, that an embroidered bag should hold my + well-shaped bones, + And that a heap of stainless earth should in its folds my winsome + charms enshroud. + For spotless once my frame did come, and spotless again it will go! + Far better than that I, like filthy mire, should sink into some drain! + Ye flowers are now faded and gone, and, lo, I come to bury you. + But as for me, what day I shall see death is not as yet divined! + Here I am fain these flowers to inter; but humankind will laugh me as + a fool. + Who knows, who will, in years to come, commit me to my grave! + Mark, and you'll find the close of spring, and the gradual decay of + flowers, + Resemble faithfully the time of death of maidens ripe in years! + In a twinkle, spring time draws to a close, and maidens wax in age. + Flowers fade and maidens die; and of either nought any more is known. + +After listening to these effusions, Pao-yue unconsciously threw himself +down in a wandering frame of mind. + +But, reader, do you feel any interest in him? If you do, the subsequent +chapter contains further details about him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + Chiang Yue-han lovingly presents a rubia-scented silk sash. + Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai blushingly covers her musk-perfumed string of red + beads. + + +Lin Tai-yue, the story goes, dwelt, after Ch'ing Wen's refusal, the +previous night, to open the door, under the impression that the blame +lay with Pao-yue. The following day, which by another remarkable +coincidence, happened to correspond with the season, when the god of +flowers had to be feasted, her total ignorance of the true +circumstances, and her resentment, as yet unspent, aroused again in her +despondent thoughts, suggested by the decline of spring time. She +consequently gathered a quantity of faded flowers and fallen petals, and +went and interred them. Unable to check the emotion, caused by the decay +of the flowers, she spontaneously recited, after giving way to several +loud lamentations, those verses which Pao-yue, she little thought, +overheard from his position on the mound. At first, he did no more than +nod his head and heave sighs, full of feeling. But when subsequently his +ear caught: + + "Here I am fain these flowers to inter, but humankind will laugh me as + a fool; + Who knows who will, in years to come, commit me to my grave! + In a twinkle springtime draws to an end, and maidens wax in age. + Flowers fade and maidens die; and of either naught any more is known." + +he unconsciously was so overpowered with grief that he threw himself on +the mound, bestrewing the whole ground with the fallen flowers he +carried in his coat, close to his chest. "When Tai-yue's flowerlike +charms and moon-like beauty," he reflected, "by and bye likewise reach a +time when they will vanish beyond any hope of recovery, won't my heart +be lacerated and my feelings be mangled! And extending, since Tai-yue +must at length some day revert to a state when it will be difficult to +find her, this reasoning to other persons, like Pao-ch'ai, Hsiang Ling, +Hsi Jen and the other girls, they too are equally liable to attain a +state beyond the reach of human search. But when Pao-ch'ai and all the +rest have ultimately reached that stage when no trace will be visible of +them, where shall I myself be then? And when my own human form will have +vanished and gone, whither I know not yet, to what person, I wonder, +will this place, this garden and these plants, revert?" + +From one to a second, and from a second to a third, he thus pursued his +reflections, backwards and forwards, until he really did not know how he +could best, at this time and at such a juncture, dispel his fit of +anguish. His state is adequately described by: + + The shadow of a flower cannot err from the flower itself to the left + or the right. + The song of birds can only penetrate into the ear from the east or the + west. + +Lin Tai-yue was herself a prey to emotion and agitation, when unawares +sorrowful accents also struck her ear, from the direction of the mound. +"Every one," she cogitated, "laughs at me for labouring under a foolish +mania, but is there likely another fool besides myself?" She then raised +her head, and, casting a glance about her, she discovered that it was +Pao-yue. "Ts'ui!" eagerly cried Tai-yue, "I was wondering who it was; but +is it truly this ruthless-hearted and short-lived fellow!" + +But the moment the two words "short-lived" dropped from her mouth, she +sealed her lips; and, heaving a deep sigh, she turned herself round and +hurriedly walked off. + +Pao-yue, meanwhile, remained for a time a prey to melancholy. But +perceiving that Tai-yue had retired, he at once realised that she must +have caught sight of him and got out of his way; and, as his own company +afforded him no pleasure, he shook the dust off his clothes, rose to his +feet and descending the hill, he started for the I Hung court by the +path by which he had come. But he espied Tai-yue walking in advance of +him, and with rapid stride, he overtook her. "Stop a little!" he cried. +"I know you don't care a rap for me; but I'll just make one single +remark, and from this day forward we'll part company." + +Tai-yue looked round. Observing that it was Pao-yue, she was about to +ignore him; hearing him however mention that he had only one thing to +say, "Please tell me what it is," she forthwith rejoined. + +Pao-yue smiled at her. "If I pass two remarks will you listen to me; yes +or no?" he asked. + +At these words, Tai-yue twisted herself round and beat a retreat. Pao-yue +however followed behind. + +"Since this is what we've come to now," he sighed, "what was the use of +what existed between us in days gone by?" + +As soon as Tai-yue heard his exclamation, she stopped short impulsively. +Turning her face towards him, "what about days gone by," she remarked, +"and what about now?" + +"Ai!" ejaculated Pao-yue, "when you got here in days gone by, wasn't I +your playmate in all your romps and in all your fun? My heart may have +been set upon anything, but if you wanted it you could take it away at +once. I may have been fond of any eatable, but if I came to learn that +you too fancied it, I there and then put away what could be put away, in +a clean place, to wait, Miss, for your return. We had our meals at one +table; we slept in one and the same bed; whatever the servant-girls +could not remember, I reminded them of, for fear lest your temper, Miss, +should get ruffled. I flattered myself that cousins, who have grown up +together from their infancy, as you and I have, would have continued, +through intimacy or friendship, either would have done, in peace and +harmony until the end, so as to make it palpable that we are above the +rest. But, contrary to all my expectations, now that you, Miss, have +developed in body as well as in mind, you don't take the least heed of +me. You lay hold instead of some cousin Pao or cousin Feng or other from +here, there and everywhere and give them a place in your affections; +while on the contrary you disregard me for three days at a stretch and +decline to see anything of me for four! I have besides no brother or +sister of the same mother as myself. It's true there are a couple of +them, but these, are you not forsooth aware, are by another mother! You +and I are only children, so I ventured to hope that you would have +reciprocated my feelings. But, who'd have thought it, I've simply thrown +away this heart of mine, and here I am with plenty of woes to bear, but +with nowhere to go and utter them!" + +While expressing these sentiments, tears, unexpectedly, trickled from +his eyes. + +When Lin Tai-yue caught, with her ears, his protestations, and noticed +with her eyes his state of mind, she unconsciously experienced an inward +pang, and, much against her will, tears too besprinkled her cheeks; so, +drooping her head, she kept silent. + +Her manner did not escape Pao-yue's notice. "I myself am aware," he +speedily resumed, "that I'm worth nothing now; but, however imperfect I +may be, I could on no account presume to become guilty of any +shortcoming with you cousin. Were I to ever commit the slightest fault, +your task should be either to tender me advice and warn me not to do it +again, or to blow me up a little, or give me a few whacks; and all this +reproof I wouldn't take amiss. But no one would have ever anticipated +that you wouldn't bother your head in the least about me, and that you +would be the means of driving me to my wits' ends, and so much out of my +mind and off my head, as to be quite at a loss how to act for the best. +In fact, were death to come upon me, I would be a spirit driven to my +grave by grievances. However much exalted bonzes and eminent Taoist +priests might do penance, they wouldn't succeed in releasing my soul +from suffering; for it would still be needful for you to clearly explain +the facts, so that I might at last be able to come to life." + +After lending him a patient ear, Tai-yue suddenly banished from her +memory all recollection of the occurrences of the previous night. "Well, +in that case," she said, "why did you not let a servant-girl open the +door when I came over?" + +This question took Pao-yue by surprise. "What prompts you to say this?" +he exclaimed. "If I have done anything of the kind, may I die at once." + +"Psha!" cried Tai-yue, "it's not right that you-should recklessly broach +the subject of living or dying at this early morn! If you say yea, it's +yea; and nay, it's nay; what use is there to utter such oaths!" + +"I didn't really see you come over," protested Pao-yue. "Cousin Pao-ch'ai +it was, who came and sat for a while and then left." + +After some reflection, Lin Tai-yue smiled. "Yes," she observed, "your +servant-girls must, I fancy, have been too lazy to budge, grumpy and in +a cross-grained mood; this is probable enough." + +"This is, I feel sure, the reason," answered Pao-yue, "so when I go back, +I'll find out who it was, call them to task and put things right." + +"Those girls of yours;" continued Tai-yue, "should be given a lesson, but +properly speaking it isn't for me to mention anything about it. Their +present insult to me is a mere trifle; but were to-morrow some Miss Pao +(precious) or some Miss Pei (jewel) or other to come, and were she to be +subjected to insult, won't it be a grave matter?" + +While she taunted him, she pressed her lips, and laughed sarcastically. + +Pao-yue heard her remarks and felt both disposed to gnash his teeth with +rage, and to treat them as a joke; but in the midst of their colloquy, +they perceived a waiting-maid approach and invite them to have their +meal. + +Presently, the whole body of inmates crossed over to the front. + +"Miss," inquired Madame Wang at the sight of Tai-yue, "have you taken any +of Dr. Pao's medicines? Do you feel any better?" + +"I simply feel so-so," replied Lin Tai-yue, "but grandmother Chia +recommended me to go on taking Dr. Wang's medicines." + +"Mother," Pao-yue interposed, "you've no idea that cousin Lin's is an +internal derangement; it's because she was born with a delicate physique +that she can't stand the slightest cold. All she need do is to take a +couple of closes of some decoction to dispel the chill; yet it's +preferable that she should have medicine in pills." + +"The other day," said Madame Wang, "the doctor mentioned the name of +some pills, but I've forgotten what it is." + +"I know something about pills," put in Pao-yue; "he merely told her to +take some pills or other called 'ginseng as-a-restorative-of-the-system.'" + +"That isn't it," Madame Wang demurred. + +"The 'Eight-precious-wholesome-to-mother' pills," Pao-yue proceeded, "or +the 'Left-angelica' or 'Right-angelica;' if these also aren't the ones, +they must be the 'Eight-flavour Rehmannia-glutinosa' pills." + +"None of these," rejoined Madame Wang, "for I remember well that there +were the two words chin kang (guardians in Buddhistic temples)." + +"I've never before," observed Pao-yue, clapping his hands, "heard of the +existence of chin kang pills; but in the event of there being any chin +kang pills, there must, for a certainty, be such a thing as P'u Sa +(Buddha) powder." + +At this joke, every one in the whole room burst out laughing. Pao-ch'ai +compressed her lips and gave a smile. "It must, I'm inclined to think," +she suggested, "be the 'lord-of-heaven-strengthen-the-heart' pills!" + +"Yes, that's the name," Madame Wang laughed, "why, now, I too have +become muddle-headed." + +"You're not muddle-headed, mother," said Pao-yue, "it's the mention of +Chin kangs and Buddhas which confused you." + +"Stuff and nonsense!" ejaculated Madame Wang. "What you want again is +your father to whip you!" + +"My father," Pao-yue laughed, "wouldn't whip me for a thing like this." + +"Well, this being their name," resumed Madame Wang, "you had better tell +some one to-morrow to buy you a few." + +"All these drugs," expostulated Pao-yue, "are of no earthly use. Were +you, mother, to give me three hundred and sixty taels, I'll concoct a +supply of pills for my cousin, which I can certify will make her feel +quite herself again before she has finished a single supply." + +"What trash!" cried Madame Wang. "What kind of medicine is there so +costly!" + +"It's a positive fact," smiled Pao-yue. "This prescription of mine is +unlike all others. Besides, the very names of those drugs are quaint, +and couldn't be enumerated in a moment; suffice it to mention the +placenta of the first child; three hundred and sixty ginseng roots, +shaped like human beings and studded with leaves; four fat tortoises; +full-grown polygonum multiflorum; the core of the Pachyma cocos, found +on the roots of a fir tree of a thousand years old; and other such +species of medicines. They're not, I admit, out-of-the-way things; but +they are the most excellent among that whole crowd of medicines; and +were I to begin to give you a list of them, why, they'd take you all +quite aback. The year before last, I at length let Hsueeh P'an have this +recipe, after he had made ever so many entreaties during one or two +years. When, however, he got the prescription, he had to search for +another two or three years and to spend over and above a thousand taels +before he succeeded in having it prepared. If you don't believe me, +mother, you are at liberty to ask cousin Pao-ch'ai about it." + +At the mention of her name, Pao-ch'ai laughingly waved her hand. "I know +nothing about it," she observed. "Nor have I heard anything about it, so +don't tell your mother to ask me any questions." + +"Really," said Madame Wang smiling, "Pao-ch'ai is a good girl; she does +not tell lies." + +Pao-yue was standing in the centre of the room. Upon hearing these words, +he turned round sharply and clapped his hands. "What I stated just now," +he explained, "was the truth; yet you maintain that it was all lies." + +As he defended himself, he casually looked round, and caught sight of +Lin Tai-yue at the back of Pao-ch'ai laughing with tight-set lips, and +applying her fingers to her face to put him to shame. + +But Lady Feng, who had been in the inner rooms overseeing the servants +laying the table, came out at once, as soon as she overheard the +conversation. "Brother Pao tells no lies," she smilingly chimed in, +"this is really a fact. Some time ago cousin Hsueeh P'an came over in +person and asked me for pearls, and when I inquired of him what he +wanted them for, he explained that they were intended to compound some +medicine with; adding, in an aggrieved way, that it would have been +better hadn't he taken it in hand for he never had any idea that it +would involve such a lot of trouble! When I questioned him what the +medicine was, he returned for answer that it was a prescription of +brother Pao's; and he mentioned ever so many ingredients, which I don't +even remember. 'Under other circumstances,' he went on to say, 'I would +have purchased a few pearls, but what are absolutely wanted are such +pearls as have been worn on the head; and that's why I come to ask you, +cousin, for some. If, cousin, you've got no broken ornaments at hand, in +the shape of flowers, why, those that you have on your head will do as +well; and by and bye I'll choose a few good ones and give them to you, +to wear.' I had no other course therefore than to snap a couple of twigs +from some flowers I have, made of pearls, and to let him take them away. +One also requires a piece of deep red gauze, three feet in length of the +best quality; and the pearls must be triturated to powder in a mortar." + +After each sentence expressed by lady Feng, Pao-yue muttered an +invocation to Buddha. "The thing is as clear as sunlight now," he +remarked. + +The moment lady Feng had done speaking, Pao-yue put in his word. +"Mother," he added, "you should know that this is a mere makeshift, for +really, according to the letter of the prescription, these pearls and +precious stones should, properly speaking, consist of such as had been +obtained from, some old grave and been worn as head-ornaments by some +wealthy and honourable person of bygone days. But how could one go now +on this account and dig up graves, and open tombs! Hence it is that such +as are simply in use among living persons can equally well be +substituted." + +"O-mi-to-fu!" exclaimed Madame Wang, after listening to him throughout. +"That will never do, and what an arduous job to uselessly saddle one's +self with; for even though there be interred in some graves people, +who've been dead for several hundreds of years, it wouldn't be a +propitious thing were their corpses turned topsy-turvey now and the +bones abstracted; just for the sake of preparing some medicine or +other." + +Pao-yue thereupon addressed himself to Tai-yue. "Have you heard what was +said or not?" he asked. "And is there, pray, any likelihood that cousin +Secunda would also follow in my lead and tell lies?" + +While saying this, his eyes were, albeit his face was turned towards Lin +Tai-yue, fixed upon Pao-ch'ai. + +Lin Tai-yue pulled Madame Wang. "You just listen to him, aunt," she +observed. "All because cousin Pao-ch'ai would not accommodate him by +lying, he appeals to me." + +"Pao-yue has a great knack," Madame Wang said, "of dealing contemptuously +with you, his cousin." + +"Mother," Pao-yue smilingly protested, "you are not aware how the case +stands. When cousin Pao-ch'ai lived at home, she knew nothing whatever +about my elder cousin Hsueeh P'an's affairs, and how much less now that +she has taken up her quarters inside the garden? She, of course, knows +less than ever about them! Yet, cousin Lin just now stealthily treated +my statements as lies, and put me to the blush." + +These words were still on his lips, when they perceived a waiting-maid, +from dowager lady Chia's apartments, come in quest of Pao-yue and Lin +Tai-yue to go and have their meal. Lin Tai-yue, however, did not even call +Pao-yue, but forthwith rising to her feet, she went along, dragging the +waiting-maid by the hand. + +"Let's wait for master Secundus, Mr. Pao, to go along with us," demurred +the girl. + +"He doesn't want anything to eat," Lin Tai-yue replied; "he won't come +with us, so I'll go ahead." So saying she promptly left the room. + +"I'll have my repast with my mother to-day," Pao-yue said. + +"Not at all," Madame Wang remarked, "not at all. I'm going to fast +to-day, so it's only right and proper that you should go and have your +own." + +"I'll also fast with you then," Pao-yue retorted. + +As he spoke, he called out to the servant to go back, and rushing up to +the table, he took a seat. + +Madame Wang faced Pao-ch'ai and her companions. "You, girls," she +observed, "had better have your meal, and let him have his own way!" + +"It's only right that you should go," Pao-ch'ai smiled. "Whether you +have anything to eat or not, you should go over for a while to keep +company to cousin Lin, as she will be quite distressed and out of +spirits." + +"Who cares about her!" Pao-yue rejoined, "she'll get all right again +after a time." + +Shortly, they finished their repast. But Pao-yue apprehended, in the +first place, that his grandmother Chia, would be solicitous on his +account, and longed, in the second, to be with Lin Tai-yue, so he +hurriedly asked for some tea to rinse his mouth with. + +"Cousin Secundus," T'an Ch'un and Hsi Ch'un interposed with an ironic +laugh, "what's the use of the hurry-scurry you're in the whole day long! +Even when you're having your meals, or your tea, you're in this sort of +fussy helter-skelter!" + +"Make him hurry up and have his tea," Pao-ch'ai chimed in smiling, "so +that he may go and look up his cousin Lin. He'll be up to all kinds of +mischief if you keep him here!" + +Pao-yue drank his tea. Then hastily leaving the apartment, he proceeded +straightway towards the eastern court. As luck would have it, the moment +he got near lady Feng's court, he descried lady Feng standing at the +gateway. While standing on the step, and picking her teeth with an +ear-cleaner, she superintended about ten young servant-boys removing the +flower-pots from place to place. As soon as she caught sight of Pao-yue +approaching, she put on a smiling face. "You come quite opportunely," +she said; "walk in, walk in, and write a few characters for me." + +Pao-yue had no option but to follow her in. When they reached the +interior of her rooms, lady Feng gave orders to a servant to fetch a +pen, inkslab and paper. + +"Forty rolls of deep red ornamented satin," she began, addressing +herself to Pao-yue, "forty rolls of satin with dragons; a hundred rolls +of gauzes of every colour, of the finest quality; four gold +necklaces...." + +"What's this?" Pao-yue shouted, "it is neither a bill; nor is it a list +of presents, and in what style shall I write it?" + +Lady Feng remonstrated with him. "Just you go on writing," she said, +"for, in fact, as long as I can make out what it means, it's all that is +needed." + +Pao-yue at this response felt constrained to proceed with the writing. + +This over lady Feng put the paper by. As she did so, "I've still +something more to tell you," she smilingly pursued, "but I wonder +whether you will accede to it or not. There is in your rooms a +servant-maid, Hsiao Hung by name, whom I would like to bring over into +my service, and I'll select several girls to-morrow to wait on you; will +this do?" + +"The servants in my quarters," answered Pao-yue, "muster a large crowd, +so that, cousin, you are at perfect liberty to send for any one of them, +who might take your fancy; what's the need therefore of asking me about +it?" + +"If that be so," continued lady Feng laughingly, "I'll tell some one at +once to go and bring her over." + +"Yes, she can go and fetch her," acquiesced Pao-yue. + +While replying, he made an attempt to take his leave. "Come back," +shouted lady Feng, "I've got something more to tell you." + +"Our venerable senior has sent for me," Pao-yue rejoined; "if you have +anything to tell me you must wait till my return." + +After this explanation, he there and then came over to his grandmother +Chia's on this side, where he found that they had already got through +their meal. + +"Have you had anything nice to eat with your mother?" old lady Chia +asked. + +"There was really nothing nice," Pao-yue smiled. "Yet I managed to have a +bowl of rice more than usual." + +"Where's cousin Lin?" he then inquired. + +"She's in the inner rooms," answered his grandmother. + +Pao-yue stepped in. He caught sight of a waiting-maid, standing below, +blowing into an iron, and two servant-girls seated on the stove-couch +making a chalk line. Tai-yue with stooping head was cutting out something +or other with a pair of scissors she held in her hand. + +Pao-yue advanced further in. "O! what's this that you are up to!" he +smiled. "You have just had your rice and do you bob your head down in +this way! Why, in a short while you'll be having a headache again!" + +Tai-yue, however, did not heed him in the least, but busied herself +cutting out what she had to do. + +"The corner of that piece of satin is not yet right," a servant-girl put +in. "You had better iron it again!" + +Tai-yue threw down the scissors. "Why worry yourself about it?" she said; +"it will get quite right after a time." + +But while Pao-yue was listening to what was being said, and was inwardly +feeling in low spirits, he became aware that Pao-ch'ai, T'an Ch'un and +the other girls had also arrived. After a short chat with dowager lady +Chia, Pao-ch'ai likewise entered the apartment to find out what her +cousin Lin was up to. The moment she espied Lin Tai-yue engaged in +cutting out something: "You have," she cried, "attained more skill than +ever; for there you can even cut out clothes!" + +"This too," laughed Tai-yue sarcastically, "is a mere falsehood, to +hoodwink people with, nothing more." + +"I'll tell you a joke," replied Pao-ch'ai smiling, "when I just now said +that I did not know anything about that medicine, cousin Pao-yue felt +displeased." "Who cares!" shouted Lin Tai-yue. "He'll get all right +shortly." + +"Our worthy grandmother wishes to play at dominoes," Pao-yue thereupon +interposed directing his remarks to Pao-ch'ai; "and there's no one there +at present to have a game with her; so you'd better go and play with +her." + +"Have I come over now to play dominoes!" promptly smiled Pao-ch'ai when +she heard his suggestion. With this remark, she nevertheless at once +quitted the room. + +"It would be well for you to go," urged Lin Tai-yue, "for there's a tiger +in here; and, look out, he might eat you up." + +As she spoke, she went on with her cutting. + +Pao-yue perceived how both she was to give him any of her attention, and +he had no alternative but to force a smile and to observe: "You should +also go for a stroll! It will be time enough by and bye to continue your +cutting." + +But Tai-yue would pay no heed whatever to him. Pao-yue addressed himself +therefore to the servant-girls. "Who has taught her how to cut out these +things?" he asked. + +"What does it matter who taught me how to cut?" Tai-yue vehemently +exclaimed, when she realised that he was speaking to the maids. "It's no +business of yours, Mr. Secundus." + +Pao-yue was then about to say something in his defence when he saw a +servant come in and report that there was some one outside who wished to +see him. At this announcement, Pao-yue betook himself with alacrity out +of the room. + +"O-mi-to-fu!" observed Tai-yue, turning outwards, "it wouldn't matter to +you if you found me dead on your return!" + +On his arrival outside, Pao-yue discovered Pei Ming. "You are invited," +he said, "to go to Mr. Feng's house." + +Upon hearing this message, Pao-yue knew well enough that it was about the +project mooted the previous day, and accordingly he told him to go and +ask for his clothes, while he himself wended his steps into the library. + +Pei Ming came forthwith to the second gate and waited for some one to +appear. Seeing an old woman walk out, Pei Ming went up to her. "Our +Master Secundus, Mr. Pao," he told her, "is in the study waiting for his +out-door clothes; so do go in, worthy dame, and deliver the message." + +"It would be better," replied the old woman, "if you did not echo your +mother's absurdities! Our Master Secundus, Mr. Pao, now lives in the +garden, and all the servants, who attend on him, stay in the garden; and +do you again come and bring the message here?" + +At these words, Pei Ming smiled. "You're quite right," he rejoined, "in +reproving me, for I've become quite idiotic." + +So saying, he repaired with quick step to the second gate on the east +side, where, by a lucky hit, the young servant-boys on duty, were +kicking marbles on the raised road. Pei Ming explained to them the +object of his coming. A young boy thereupon ran in. After a long +interval, he, at length, made his appearance, holding, enfolded in his +arms, a bundle of clothes, which he handed to Pei Ming, who then +returned to the library. Pao-yue effected a change in his costume, and +giving directions to saddle his horse, he only took along with him the +four servant-boys, Pei Ming, Chu Lo, Shuang Jui and Shou Erh, and +started on his way. He reached Feng Tzu-ying's doorway by a short cut. A +servant announced his arrival, and Feng Tzu-ying came out and ushered +him in. Here he discovered Hsueeh P'an, who had already been waiting a +long time, and several singing-boys besides; as well as Chiang Yue-han, +who played female roles, and Yuen Erh, a courtesan in the Chin Hsiang +court. The whole company exchanged salutations. They next had tea. "What +you said the other day," smiled Pao-yue, raising his cup, "about good +fortune coming out of evil fortune has preyed so much upon my mind, both +by day and night, that the moment I received your summons I hurried to +come immediately." + +"My worthy cousins," rejoined Feng Tzu-ying smiling. "You're all far too +credulous! It's a mere hoax that I made use of the other day. For so +much did I fear that you would be sure to refuse if I openly asked you +to a drinking bout, that I thought it fit to say what I did. But your +attendance to-day, so soon after my invitation, makes it clear, little +though one would have thought it, that you've all taken it as pure +gospel truth." + +This admission evoked laughter from the whole company. The wines were +afterwards placed on the table, and they took the seats consistent with +their grades. Feng Tzu-ying first and foremost called the singing-boys +and offered them a drink. Next he told Yuen Erh to also approach and have +a cup of wine. + +By the time, however, that Hsueeh P'an had had his third cup, he of a +sudden lost control over his feelings, and clasping Yuen Erh's hand in +his: "Do sing me," he smiled, "that novel ballad of your own +composition; and I'll drink a whole jar full. Eh, will you?" + +This appeal compelled Yuen Erh to take up the guitar. She then sang: + + Lovers have I two. + To set aside either I cannot bear. + When my heart longs for thee to come, + It also yearns for him. + Both are in form handsome and fair. + Their beauty to describe it would be hard. + Just think, last night, when at a silent hour, we met in secret, by + the trellis + frame laden with roses white, + One to his feelings stealthily was giving vent, + When lo, the other caught us in the act, + And laying hands on us; there we three stood like litigants before the + bar. + And I had, verily, no word in answer for myself to give. + +At the close of her song, she laughed. "Well now," she cried, "down with +that whole jar!" + +"Why, it isn't worth a jarful," smiled Hsueeh P'an at these words. +"Favour us with some other good song!" + +"Listen to what I have to suggest," Pao-yue interposed, a smile on his +lips. "If you go on drinking in this reckless manner, we will easily get +drunk and there will be no fun in it. I'll take the lead and swallow a +large cupful and put in force a new penalty; and any one of you who +doesn't comply with it, will be mulcted in ten large cupfuls, in quick +succession!" + +Speedily rising from the banquet, he poured the wine for the company. +Feng Tzu-ying and the rest meanwhile exclaimed with one voice: "Quite +right! quite right!" + +Pao-yue then lifted a large cup and drained it with one draught. "We will +now," he proposed, "dilate on the four characters, 'sad, wounded, glad +and joyful.' But while discoursing about young ladies, we'll have to +illustrate the four states as well. At the end of this recitation, we'll +have to drink the 'door cup' over the wine, to sing an original and +seasonable ballad, while over the heel taps, to make allusion to some +object on the table, and devise something with some old poetical lines +or ancient scrolls, from the Four Books or the Five Classics, or with +some set phrases." + +Hsueeh P'an gave him no time to finish. He was the first to stand up and +prevent him from proceeding. "I won't join you, so don't count me; this +is, in fact, done in order to play tricks upon me." + +Yuen Erh, however, also rose to her feet and shoved him down into his +seat. + +"What are you in such a funk for?" she laughed. "You're fortunate enough +to be able to drink wine daily, and can't you, forsooth, even come up to +me? Yet I mean to recite, by and bye, my own share. If you say what's +right, well and good; if you don't, you will simply have to swallow +several cups of wine as a forfeit, and is it likely you'll die from +drunkenness? Are you, pray, going now to disregard this rule and to +drink, instead, ten large cups; besides going down to pour the wine?" + +One and all clapped in applause. "Well said!" they shouted. + +After this, Hueeh P'an had no way out of it and felt compelled to resume +his seat. + +They then heard Pao-yue recite: + + A girl is sad, + When her spring-time of life is far advanced and she still occupies a + vacant inner-room. + A girl feels wounded in her heart, + When she regrets having allowed her better half to go abroad and win a + marquisdom. + A girl is glad, + When looking in the mirror, at the time of her morning toilette, she + finds her colour fair. + A girl is joyful, + What time she sits on the frame of a gallows-swing, clad in a thin + spring gown. + +Having listened to him, "Capital!" one and all cried out in a chorus. +Hsueeh P'an alone raised his face, shook his head and remarked: "It isn't +good, he must be fined." + +"Why should he be fined?" demurred the party. + +"Because," retorted Hsueeh P'an, "what he says is entirely unintelligible +to me. So how can he not be fined?" + +Yuen Erh gave him a pinch.--"Just you quietly think of yours," she +laughed; "for if by and bye you are not ready you'll also have to bear a +fine." + +In due course Pao-yue took up the guitar. He was heard to sing: + + "When mutual thoughts arise, tears, blood-stained, endless drop, like + lentiles sown broadcast. + In spring, in ceaseless bloom nourish willows and flowers around the + painted tower. + Inside the gauze-lattice peaceful sleep flies, when, after dark, come + wind and rain. + Both new-born sorrows and long-standing griefs cannot from memory ever + die! + E'en jade-fine rice, and gold-like drinks they make hard to go down; + they choke the throat. + The lass has not the heart to desist gazing in the glass at her wan + face. + Nothing can from that knitted brow of hers those frowns dispel; + For hard she finds it patient to abide till the clepsydra will have + run its course. + Alas! how fitly like the faint outline of a green hill which nought + can screen; + Or like a green-tinged stream, which ever ceaseless floweth onward far + and wide!" + +When the song drew to an end, his companions with one voice cried out: +"Excellent!" + +Hsueeh P'an was the only one to find fault. "There's no metre in them," +he said. + +Pao-yue quaffed the "opening cup," then seizing a pear, he added: + + "While the rain strikes the pear-blossom I firmly close the door," + +and thus accomplished the requirements of the rule. + +Feng Tzu-ying's turn came next. + + "A maid is glad." + +he commenced: + + When at her first confinement she gives birth to twins, both sons. + A maid is joyful, + When on the sly she to the garden creeps crickets to catch. + A maid is sad, + When her husband some sickness gets and lies in a bad state. + A maiden is wounded at heart, + When a fierce wind blows down the tower, where she makes her toilette. + +Concluding this recitation, he raised the cup and sang: + + "Thou art what one could aptly call a man. + But thou'rt endowed with somewhat too much heart! + How queer thou art, cross-grained and impish shrewd! + A spirit too, thou couldst not be more shrewd. + If all I say thou dost not think is true, + In secret just a minute search pursue; + For then thou'lt know if I love thee or not." + +His song over, he drank the "opening cup" and then observed: + + "The cock crows when the moon's rays shine upon the thatched inn." + +After his observance of the rule followed Yuen Erh's turn. + + A girl is sad, + +Yuen Erh began, + + When she tries to divine on whom she will depend towards the end of + life. + +"My dear child!" laughingly exclaimed Hsueeh P'an, "your worthy Mr. Hsueeh +still lives, and why do you give way to fears?" + +"Don't confuse her!" remonstrated every one of the party, "don't muddle +her!" + + "A maiden is wounded at heart." + +Yuen Erh proceeded: + + "When her mother beats and scolds her and never for an instant doth + desist." + +"It was only the other day," interposed Hsueeh P'an, "that I saw your +mother and that I told her that I would not have her beat you." + +"If you still go on babbling," put in the company with one consent, +"you'll be fined ten cups." + +Hsueeh P'an promptly administered himself a slap on the mouth. "How you +lack the faculty of hearing!" he exclaimed. "You are not to say a word +more!" + + "A girl is glad," + +Yuen Erh then resumed: + + When her lover cannot brook to leave her and return home. + A maiden is joyful, + When hushing the pan-pipe and double pipe, a stringed instrument she + thrums. + +At the end of her effusion, she at once began to sing: + + "T'is the third day of the third moon, the nutmegs bloom; + A maggot, lo, works hard to pierce into a flower; + But though it ceaseless bores it cannot penetrate. + So crouching on the buds, it swing-like rocks itself. + My precious pet, my own dear little darling, + If I don't choose to open how can you steal in?" + +Finishing her song, she drank the "opening cup," after which she added: +"the delicate peach-blossom," and thus complied with the exigencies of +the rule. + +Next came Hsueeh P'an. "Is it for me to speak now?" Hsueeh P'an asked. + + "A maiden is sad..." + +But a long time elapsed after these words were uttered and yet nothing +further was heard. + +"Sad for what?" Feng Tzu-ying laughingly asked. "Go on and tell us at +once!" + +Hsueeh P'an was much perplexed. His eyes rolled about like a bell. + + "A girl is sad..." + +he hastily repeated. But here again he coughed twice before he +proceeded. + + "A girl is sad." + +he said: + + "When she marries a spouse who is a libertine." + +This sentence so tickled the fancy of the company that they burst out +into a loud fit of laughter. + +"What amuses you so?" shouted Hsueeh P'an, "is it likely that what I say +is not correct? If a girl marries a man, who chooses to forget all +virtue, how can she not feel sore at heart?" + +But so heartily did they all laugh that their bodies were bent in two. +"What you say is quite right," they eagerly replied. "So proceed at once +with the rest." + +Hsueeh P'an thereupon stared with vacant gaze. + + "A girl is grieved...." + +he added: + +But after these few words he once more could find nothing to say. + +"What is she grieved about?" they asked. + + "When a huge monkey finds its way into the inner room." + +Hsueeh P'an retorted. + +This reply set every one laughing. "He must be mulcted," they cried, "he +must be mulcted. The first one could anyhow be overlooked; but this line +is more unintelligible." + +As they said this, they were about to pour the wine, when Pao-yue +smilingly interfered. "The rhyme is all right," he observed. + +"The master of the rules," Hsueeh P'an remarked, "approves it in every +way, so what are you people fussing about?" + +Hearing this, the company eventually let the matter drop. + +"The two lines, that follow, are still more difficult," suggested Yuen +Erh with a smile, "so you had better let me recite for you." + +"Fiddlesticks!" exclaimed Hsueeh P'an, "do you really fancy that I have +no good ones! Just you listen to what I shall say. + + "A girl is glad, + When in the bridal room she lies, with flowery candles burning, and + she is loth to rise at morn." + +This sentiment filled one and all with amazement. "How supremely +excellent this line is!" they ejaculated. + + "A girl is joyful," + +Hsueeh P'an resumed, + + "During the consummation of wedlock." + +Upon catching this remark, the party turned their heads away, and +shouted: "Dreadful! Dreadful! But quick sing your song and have done." + +Forthwith Hsueeh P'an sang: + + "A mosquito buzzes heng, heng, heng!" + +Every one was taken by surprise. "What kind of song is this?" they +inquired. + +But Hsueeh P'an went on singing: + + "Two flies buzz weng, weng, weng." + +"Enough," shouted his companions, "that will do, that will do!" + +"Do you want to hear it or not?" asked Hsueeh P'an, "this is a new kind +of song, called the 'Heng, heng air,' but if you people are not disposed +to listen, let me off also from saying what I have to say over the +heel-taps and I won't then sing." + +"We'll let you off! We'll let you off," answered one and all, "so don't +be hindering others." + + "A maiden is sad," + +Chiang Yue-han at once began, + + When her husband leaves home and never does return. + A maiden is disconsolate, + When she has no money to go and buy some _olea frangrans_ oil. + A maiden is glad, + When the wick of the lantern forms two heads like twin flowers on one + stem. + A maiden is joyful, + When true conjugal peace prevails between her and her mate. + +His recital over, he went on to sing: + + "How I love thee with those seductive charms of thine, heaven-born! + In truth thou'rt like a living fairy from the azure skies! + The spring of life we now enjoy; we are yet young in years. + Our union is, indeed, a happy match! + But. lo! the milky way doth at its zenith soar; + Hark to the drums which beat around in the watch towers; + So raise the silver lamp and let us soft under the nuptial curtain + steal." + +Finishing the song, he drank the "opening cup." "I know," he smiled, +"few poetical quotations bearing on this sort of thing. By a stroke of +good fortune, however, I yesterday conned a pair of antithetical +scrolls; of these I can only remember just one line, but lucky enough +for me the object it refers to figures as well on this festive board." + +This said he forthwith drained the wine, and, picking up a bud of a +diminutive variety of _olea fragrans_, he recited: + + "When the perfume of flowers wafts (hsi jen) itself into a man, he + knows the day is warm." + +The company unanimously conceded that the rule had been adhered to. But +Hsueeh P'an once again jumped up. "It's awful, awful!" he bawled out +boisterously; "he should be fined, he should be made to pay a forfeit; +there's no precious article whatever on this table; how is it then that +you introduce precious things?" + +"There was nothing about precious things!" Chiang Yue-han vehemently +explained. + +"What I are you still prevaricating?" Hsueeh P'an cried, "Well, repeat it +again!" + +Chiang Yue-han had no other course but to recite the line a second time. +"Now is not Hsi Jen a precious thing?" Hsueeh P'an asked. "If she isn't, +what is she? And if you don't believe me, you ask him about it," +pointing, at the conclusion of this remark, at Pao-yue. + +Pao-yue felt very uncomfortable. Rising to his feet, "Cousin," he +observed, "you should be fined heavily." + +"I should be! I should be!" Hsueeh P'an shouted, and saying this, he took +up the wine and poured it down his throat with one gulp. + +Feng Tzu-ying, Chiang Yue-han and their companions thereupon asked him to +explain the allusion. Yuen Erh readily told them, and Chiang Yue-han +hastily got up and pleaded guilty. + +"Ignorance," the party said with one consent, "does not amount to +guilt." + +But presently Pao-yue quitted the banquet to go and satisfy a natural +want and Chiang Yue-han followed him out. The two young fellows halted +under the eaves of the verandah, and Chiang Yue-han then recommenced to +make ample apologies. Pao-yue, however, was so attracted by his handsome +and genial appearance, that he took quite a violent fancy to him; and +squeezing his hand in a firm grip. "If you have nothing to do," he +urged, "do let us go over to our place. I've got something more to ask +you. It's this, there's in your worthy company some one called Ch'i +Kuan, with a reputation extending at present throughout the world; but, +unfortunately, I alone have not had the good luck of seeing him even +once." + +"This is really," rejoined Chiang Yue-han with a smile, "my own infant • +name." + +This disclosure at once made Pao-yue quite exuberant, and stamping his +feet he smiled. "How lucky! I'm in luck's way!" he exclaimed. "In very +truth your reputation is no idle report. But to-day is our first +meeting, and what shall I do?" + +After some thought, he produced a fan from his sleeve, and, unloosening +one of the jade pendants, he handed it to Ch'i Kuan. "This is a mere +trifle," he said. "It does not deserve your acceptance, yet it will be a +small souvenir of our acquaintance to-day." + +Ch'i Kuan received it with a smile. "I do not deserve," he replied, +"such a present. How am I worthy of such an honour! But never mind, I've +also got about me here a strange thing, which I put on this morning; it +is brand-new yet, and will, I hope, suffice to prove to you a little of +the feeling of esteem which I entertain for you." + +With these protestations, he raised his garment, and, untying a deep red +sash, with which his nether clothes were fastened, he presented it to +Pao-yue. "This sash," he remarked, "is an article brought as tribute from +the Queen of the Hsi Hsiang Kingdom. If you attach this round you in +summer, your person will emit a fragrant perfume, and it will not +perspire. It was given to me yesterday by the Prince of Pei Ching, and +it is only to-day that I put it on. To any one else, I would certainly +not be willing to present it. But, Mr. Secundus, please do unfasten the +one you have on and give it to me to bind round me." + +This proposal extremely delighted Pao-yue. With precipitate haste, he +accepted his gift, and, undoing the dark brown sash he wore, he +surrendered it to Ch'i Kuan. But both had just had time to adjust their +respective sashes when they heard a loud voice say: "Oh! I've caught +you!" And they perceived Hsueeh P'an come out by leaps and bounds. +Clutching the two young fellows, "What do you," he exclaimed, "leave +your wine for and withdraw from the banquet. Be quick and produce those +things, and let me see them!" + +"There's nothing to see!" rejoined the two young fellows with one voice. + +Hsueeh P'an, however, would by no means fall in with their views. And it +was only Feng Tzu-ying, who made his appearance on the scene, who +succeeded in dissuading him. So resuming their seats, they drank until +dark, when the company broke up. + +Pao-yue, on his return into the garden, loosened his clothes, and had +tea. But Hsi Jen noticed that the pendant had disappeared from his fan +and she inquired of him what had become of it. + +"I must have lost it this very moment," Pao-yue replied. + +At bedtime, however, descrying a deep red sash, with spots like specks +of blood, attached round his waist, Hsi Jen guessed more or less the +truth of what must have transpired. "As you have such a nice sash to +fasten your trousers with," Hsi Jen consequently said, "you'd better +return that one of mine." + +This reminder made the fact dawn upon Pao-yue that the sash had +originally been the property of Hsi Jen, and that he should by rights +not have parted with it; but however much he felt his conscience smitten +by remorse, he failed to see how he could very well disclose the truth +to her. He could therefore only put on a smiling expression and add, +"I'll give you another one instead." + +Hsi Jen was prompted by his rejoinder to nod her head and sigh. "I felt +sure;" she observed; "that you'd go again and do these things! Yet you +shouldn't take my belongings and bestow them on that low-bred sort of +people. Can it be that no consideration finds a place in your heart?" + +She then felt disposed to tender him a few more words of admonition, but +dreading, on the other hand, lest she should, by irritating him, bring +the fumes of the wine to his head, she thought it best to also retire to +bed. + +Nothing worth noticing occurred during that night. The next day, when +she woke up at the break of day, she heard Pao-yue call out laughingly: +"Robbers have been here in the night; are you not aware of it? Just you +look at my trousers." + +Hsi Jen lowered her head and looked. She saw at a glance that the sash, +which Pao-yue had worn the previous day, was bound round her own waist, +and she at once realised that Pao-yue must have effected the change +during the night; but promptly unbinding it, "I don't care for such +things!" she cried, "quick, take it away!" + +At the sight of her manner, Pao-yue had to coax her with gentle terms. +This so disarmed Hsi Jen, that she felt under the necessity of putting +on the sash; but, subsequently when Pao-yue stepped out of the apartment, +she at last pulled it off, and, throwing it away in an empty box, she +found one of hers and fastened it round her waist. + +Pao-yue, however, did not in the least notice what she did, but inquired +whether anything had happened the day before. + +"Lady Secunda," Hsi Jen explained, "dispatched some one and fetched +Hsiao Hung away. Her wish was to have waited for your return; but as I +thought that it was of no consequence, I took upon myself to decide, and +sent her off." + +"That's all right!" rejoined Pao-yue. "I knew all about it, there was no +need for her to wait." + +"Yesterday," resumed Hsi Jen, "the Imperial Consort deputed the Eunuch +Hsia to bring a hundred and twenty ounces of silver and to convey her +commands that from the first to the third, there should be offered, in +the Ch'ing Hsu temple, thanksgiving services to last for three days and +that theatrical performances should be given, and oblations presented: +and to tell our senior master, Mr. Chia Chen, to take all the gentlemen, +and go and burn incense and worship Buddha. Besides this, she also sent +presents for the dragon festival." + +Continuing, she bade a young servant-maid produce the presents, which +had been received the previous day. Then he saw two palace fans of the +best quality, two strings of musk-scented beads, two rolls of silk, as +fine as the phoenix tail, and a superior mat worked with hibiscus. At +the sight of these things, Pao-yue was filled with immeasurable +pleasure, and he asked whether the articles brought to all the others +were similar to his. + +"The only things in excess of yours that our venerable mistress has," +Hsi Jen explained, "consist of a scented jade sceptre and a pillow made +of agate. Those of your worthy father and mother, our master and +mistress, and of your aunt exceed yours by a scented sceptre of jade. +Yours are the same as Miss Pao's. Miss Lin's are like those of Misses +Secunda, Tertia and Quarta, who received nothing beyond a fan and +several pearls and none of all the other things. As for our senior lady, +Mrs. Chia Chu, and lady Secunda, these two got each two rolls of gauze, +two rolls of silk, two scented bags, and two sticks of medicine." + +After listening to her enumeration, "What's the reason of this?" he +smiled. "How is it that Miss Lin's are not the same as mine, but that +Miss Pao's instead are like my own? May not the message have been +wrongly delivered?" + +"When they were brought out of the palace yesterday," Hsi Jen rejoined, +"they were already divided in respective shares, and slips were also +placed on them, so that how could any mistake have been made? Yours were +among those for our dowager lady's apartments. When I went and fetched +them, her venerable ladyship said that I should tell you to go there +to-morrow at the fifth watch to return thanks. + +"Of course, it's my duty to go over," Pao-yue cried at these words, but +forthwith calling Tzu Chuean: "Take these to your Miss Lin," he told her, +"and say that I got them, yesterday, and that she is at liberty to keep +out of them any that take her fancy." + +Tzu Chuean expressed her obedience and took the things away. After a +short time she returned. "Miss Lin says," she explained, "that she also +got some yesterday, and that you, Master Secundus, should keep yours." + +Hearing this reply, Pao-yue quickly directed a servant to put them away. +But when he had washed his face and stepped out of doors, bent upon +going to his grandmother's on the other side, in order to pay his +obeisance, he caught sight of Lin Tai-yue coming along towards him, from +the opposite direction. Pao-yue hurriedly walked up to her, "I told you," +he smiled, "to select those you liked from my things; how is it you +didn't choose any?" + +Lin Tai-yue had long before banished from her recollection the incident +of the previous day, which had made her angry with Pao-yue, and was only +exercised about the occurrence of this present occasion. "I'm not gifted +with such extreme good fortune," she consequently answered, "as to be +able to accept them. I can't compete with Miss Pao, in connection with +whom something or other about gold or about jade is mentioned. We are +simply beings connected with the vegetable kingdom." + +The allusion to the two words "gold and jade," aroused, of a sudden, +much emotion in the heart of Pao-yue. "If beyond what people say about +gold or jade," he protested, "the idea of any such things ever crosses +my mind, may the heavens annihilate me, and may the earth extinguish me, +and may I for ten thousand generations never assume human form!" + +These protestations convinced Lin Tai-yue that suspicion had been aroused +in him. With all promptitude, she smiled and observed, "They're all to +no use! Why utter such oaths, when there's no rhyme or reason! Who cares +about any gold or any jade of yours!" + +"It would be difficult for me to tell you, to your face, all the secrets +of my heart," Pao-yue resumed, "but by and bye you'll surely come to know +all about them! After the three--my old grandmother, my father and my +mother--you, my cousin, hold the fourth place; and, if there be a +fifth, I'm ready to swear another oath." + +"You needn't swear any more," Lin Tai-yue replied, "I'm well aware that +I, your younger cousin, have a place in your heart; but the thing is +that at the sight of your elder cousin, you at once forget all about +your younger cousin." + +"This comes again from over-suspicion!" ejaculated Pao; "for I'm not at +all disposed that way." + +"Well," resumed Lin Tai-yue, "why did you yesterday appeal to me when +that hussey Pao-ch'ai would not help you by telling a story? Had it been +I, who had been guilty of any such thing, I don't know what you wouldn't +have done again." + +But during their _tete-a-tete_, they espied Pao-ch'ai approach from +the opposite direction, so readily they beat a retreat. Pao-ch'ai had +distinctly caught sight of them, but pretending she had not seen them, +she trudged on her way, with lowered head, and repaired into Madame +Wang's apartments. After a short stay, she came to this side to pay +dowager lady Chia a visit. With her she also found Pao-yue. + +Pao-ch'ai ever made it a point to hold Pao-yue aloof as her mother had in +days gone by mentioned to Madame Wang and her other relatives that the +gold locket had been the gift of a bonze, that she had to wait until +such time as some suitor with jade turned up before she could be given +in marriage, and other similar confidences. But on discovery the +previous day that Yuean Ch'un's presents to her alone resembled those of +Pao-yue, she began to feel all the more embarrassed. Luckily, however, +Pao-yue was so entangled in Lin Tai-yue's meshes and so absorbed in heart +and mind with fond thoughts of his Lin Tai-yue that he did not pay the +least attention to this circumstance. But she unawares now heard Pao-yue +remark with a smile: "Cousin Pao, let me see that string of scented +beads of yours!" + +By a strange coincidence, Pao-ch'ai wore the string of beads round her +left wrist so she had no alternative, when Pao-yue asked her for it, than +to take it off. Pao-ch'ai, however, was naturally inclined to +embonpoint, and it proved therefore no easy matter for her to get the +beads off; and while Pao-yue stood by watching her snow-white arm, +feelings of admiration were quickly stirred up in his heart. "Were this +arm attached to Miss Lin's person," he secretly pondered, "I might, +possibly have been able to caress it! But it is, as it happens, part and +parcel of her body; how I really do deplore this lack of good fortune." + +Suddenly he bethought himself of the secret of gold and jade, and he +again scanned Pao-ch'ai's appearance. At the sight of her countenance, +resembling a silver bowl, her eyes limpid like water and almond-like in +shape, her lips crimson, though not rouged, her eyebrows jet-black, +though not pencilled, also of that fascination and grace which presented +such a contrast to Lin Tai-yue's style of beauty, he could not refrain +from falling into such a stupid reverie, that though Pao-ch'ai had got +the string of beads off her wrist, and was handing them to him, he +forgot all about them and made no effort to take them. Pao-ch'ai +realised that he was plunged in abstraction, and conscious of the +awkward position in which she was placed, she put down the string of +beads, and turning round was on the point of betaking herself away, when +she perceived Lin Tai-yue, standing on the door-step, laughing +significantly while biting a handkerchief she held in her mouth. "You +can't resist," Pao-ch'ai said, "a single puff of wind; and why do you +stand there and expose yourself to the very teeth of it?" + +"Wasn't I inside the room?" rejoined Lin Tai-yue, with a cynical smile. +"But I came out to have a look as I heard a shriek in the heavens; it +turned out, in fact, to be a stupid wild goose!" + +"A stupid wild goose!" repeated Pao-ch'ai. "Where is it, let me also see +it!" + +"As soon as I got out," answered Lin Tai-yue, "it flew away with a +'t'e-rh' sort of noise." + +While replying, she threw the handkerchief, she was holding, straight +into Pao-yue's face. Pao-yue was quite taken by surprise. He was hit on +the eye. "Ai-yah!" he exclaimed. + +But, reader, do you want to hear the sequel? In that case, listen to the +circumstances, which will be disclosed in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + A happy man enjoys a full measure of happiness, but still prays for + happiness. + A beloved girl is very much loved, but yet craves for more love. + + +Pao-yue, so our story runs, was gazing vacantly, when Tai-yue, at a moment +least expected, flung her handkerchief at him, which just hit him on the +eyes, and frightened him out of his wits. "Who was it?" he cried. + +Lin Tai-yue nodded her head and smiled. "I would not venture to do such a +thing," she said, "it was a mere slip of my hand. As cousin Pao-ch'ai +wished to see the silly wild goose, I was pointing it out to her, when +the handkerchief inadvertently flew out of my grip." + +Pao-yue kept on rubbing his eyes. The idea suggested itself to him to +make some remonstrance, but he could not again very well open his lips. + +Presently, lady Feng arrived. She then alluded, in the course of +conversation, to the thanksgiving service, which was to be offered on +the first, in the Ch'ing Hsue temple, and invited Pao-ch'ai, Pao-yue, +Tai-yue and the other inmates with them to be present at the theatricals. + +"Never mind," smiled Pao-ch'ai, "it's too hot; besides, what plays +haven't I seen? I don't mean to come." + +"It's cool enough over at their place," answered lady Feng. "There are +also two-storied buildings on either side; so we must all go! I'll send +servants a few days before to drive all that herd of Taoist priests out, +to sweep the upper stories, hang up curtains, and to keep out every +single loafer from the interior of the temple; so it will be all right +like that. I've already told our Madame Wang that if you people don't +go, I mean to go all alone, as I've been again in very low spirits these +last few days, and as when theatricals come off at home, it's out of the +question for me to look on with any peace and quiet." + +When dowager lady Chia heard what she said, she smiled. "Well, in that +case," she remarked, "I'll go along with you." + +Lady Feng, at these words, gave a smile. "Venerable ancestor," she +replied, "were you also to go, it would be ever so much better; yet I +won't feel quite at my ease!" + +"To-morrow," dowager lady Chia continued, "I can stay in the two-storied +building, situated on the principal site, while you can go to the one on +the side. You can then likewise dispense with coming over to where I +shall be to stand on any ceremonies. Will this suit you or not?" + +"This is indeed," lady Feng smiled, "a proof of your regard for me, my +worthy senior." + +Old lady Chia at this stage faced Pao-ch'ai. "You too should go," she +said, "so should your mother; for if you remain the whole day long at +home, you will again sleep your head off." + +Pao-ch'ai felt constrained to signify her assent. Dowager lady Chia then +also despatched domestics to invite Mrs. Hsueeh; and, on their way, they +notified Madame Wang that she was to take the young ladies along with +her. But Madame Wang felt, in the first place, in a poor state of +health, and was, in the second, engaged in making preparations for the +reception of any arrivals from Yuean Ch'un, so that she, at an early +hour, sent word that it was impossible for her to leave the house. Yet +when she received old lady Chia's behest, she smiled and exclaimed: "Are +her spirits still so buoyant!" and transmitted the message into the +garden that any, who had any wish to avail themselves of the +opportunity, were at liberty to go on the first, with their venerable +senior as their chaperonne. As soon as these tidings were spread abroad, +every one else was indifferent as to whether they went or not; but of +those girls who, day after day, never put their foot outside the +doorstep, which of them was not keen upon going, the moment they heard +the permission conceded to them? Even if any of their respective +mistresses were too lazy to move, they employed every expedient to +induce them to go. Hence it was that Li Kung-ts'ai and the other inmates +signified their unanimous intention to be present. Dowager lady Chia, at +this, grew more exultant than ever, and she issued immediate directions +for servants to go and sweep and put things in proper order. But to all +these preparations, there is no necessity of making detailed reference; +sufficient to relate that on the first day of the moon, carriages stood +in a thick maze, and men and horses in close concourse, at the entrance +of the Jung Kuo mansion. + +When the servants, the various managers and other domestics came to +learn that the Imperial Consort was to perform good deeds and that +dowager lady Chia was to go in person and offer incense, they arranged, +as it happened that the first of the moon, which was the principal day +of the ceremonies, was, in addition, the season of the dragon-boat +festival, all the necessary articles in perfect readiness and with +unusual splendour. Shortly, old lady Chia and the other inmates started +on their way. The old lady sat in an official chair, carried by eight +bearers: widow Li, lady Feng and Mrs. Hsueeh, each in a four-bearer +chair. Pao-ch'ai and Tai-yue mounted together a curricle with green cover +and pearl tassels, bearing the eight precious things. The three sisters, +Ying Ch'un, T'an Ch'un, and Hsi Ch'un got in a carriage with red wheels +and ornamented hood. Next in order, followed dowager lady Chia's +waiting-maids, Yuean Yang, Ying Wu, Hu Po, Chen Chu; Lin Tai-yue's +waiting-maids Tzu Chuean, Hsueeh Yen, and Ch'un Ch'ien; Pao-ch'ai's +waiting-maids Ying Erh and Wen Hsing; Ying Ch'un's servant-girls Ssu +Ch'i and Hsiu Chue; T'an Ch'un's waiting-maids Shih Shu and Ts'ui Mo; Hsi +Ch'un's servant-girls Ju Hua and Ts'ai P'ing; and Mrs. Hsueeh's +waiting-maids T'ung Hsi, and T'ung Kuei. Besides these, were joined to +their retinue: Hsiang Ling and Hsiang Ling's servant-girl Ch'in Erh; +Mrs. Li's waiting-maids Su Yuen and Pi Yueeh; lady Feng's servant-girls +P'ing Erh, Feng Erh and Hsiao Hung, as well as Madame Wang's two +waiting-maids Chin Ch'uan and Ts'ai Yuen. Along with lady Feng, came a +nurse carrying Ta Chieh Erh. She drove in a separate carriage, together +with a couple of servant-girls. Added also to the number of the suite +were matrons and nurses, attached to the various establishments, and the +wives of the servants of the household, who were in attendance out of +doors. Their carriages, forming one black solid mass, therefore, crammed +the whole extent of the street. + +Dowager lady Chia and other members of the party had already proceeded a +considerable distance in their chairs, and yet the inmates at the gate +had not finished mounting their vehicles. This one shouted: "I won't sit +with you." That one cried: "You've crushed our mistress' bundle." In the +carriages yonder, one screamed: "You've pulled my flowers off." Another +one nearer exclaimed: "You've broken my fan." And they chatted and +chatted, and talked and laughed with such incessant volubility, that +Chou Jui's wife had to go backward and forward calling them to task. +"Girls," she said, "this is the street. The on-lookers will laugh at +you!" But it was only after she had expostulated with them several times +that any sign of improvement became at last visible. + +The van of the procession had long ago reached the entrance of the +Ch'ing Hsue Temple. Pao-yue rode on horseback. He preceded the chair +occupied by his grandmother Chia. The throngs that filled the streets +ranged themselves on either side. + +On their arrival at the temple, the sound of bells and the rattle of +drums struck their ear. Forthwith appeared the head-bonze Chang, a stick +of incense in hand; his cloak thrown over his shoulders. He took his +stand by the wayside at the head of a company of Taoist priests to +present his greetings. The moment dowager lady Chia reached, in her +chair, the interior of the main gate, she descried the lares and +penates, the lord presiding over that particular district, and the clay +images of the various gods, and she at once gave orders to halt. Chia +Chen advanced to receive her acting as leader to the male members of the +family. Lady Feng was well aware that Yuean Yang and the other attendants +were at the back and could not overtake their old mistress, so she +herself alighted from her chair to volunteer her services. She was about +to hastily press forward and support her, when, by a strange accident, a +young Taoist neophyte, of twelve or thirteen years of age, who held a +case containing scissors, with which he had been snuffing the candles +burning in the various places, just seized the opportunity to run out +and hide himself, when he unawares rushed, head foremost, into lady +Feng's arms. Lady Feng speedily raised her hand and gave him such a slap +on the face that she made the young fellow reel over and perform a +somersault. "You boorish young bastard!" she shouted, "where are you +running to?" + +The young Taoist did not even give a thought to picking up the scissors, +but crawling up on to his feet again, he tried to scamper outside. But +just at that very moment Pao-ch'ai and the rest of the young ladies were +dismounting from their vehicles, and the matrons and women-servants were +closing them in so thoroughly on all sides that not a puff of wind or a +drop of rain could penetrate, and when they perceived a Taoist neophyte +come rushing headlong out of the place, they, with one voice, exclaimed: +"Catch him, catch him! Beat him, beat him!" + +Old lady Chia overheard their cries. She asked with alacrity what the +fuss was all about. Chia Chen immediately stepped outside to make +inquiries. Lady Feng then advanced and, propping up her old senior, she +went on to explain to her that a young Taoist priest, whose duties were +to snuff the candles, had not previously retired out of the compound, +and that he was now endeavouring to recklessly force his way out." + +"Be quick and bring the lad here," shouted dowager lady Chia, as soon as +she heard her explanation, "but, mind, don't frighten him. Children of +mean families invariably get into the way of being spoilt by +over-indulgence. How ever could he have set eyes before upon such +display as this! Were you to frighten him, he will really be much to be +pitied; and won't his father and mother be exceedingly cut up?" + +As she spoke, she asked Chia Chen to go and do his best to bring him +round. Chia Chen felt under the necessity of going, and he managed to +drag the lad into her presence. With the scissors still clasped in his +hand, the lad fell on his knees, and trembled violently. + +Dowager lady Chia bade Chia Chen raise him up. "There's nothing to +fear!" she said reassuringly. Then she asked him how old he was. + +The boy, however, could on no account give vent to speech. + +"Poor boy!" once more exclaimed the old lady. And continuing: "Brother +Chen," she added, addressing herself to Chia Chen, "take him away, and +give him a few cash to buy himself fruit with; and do impress upon every +one that they are not to bully him." + +Chia Chen signified his assent and led him off. + +During this time, old lady Chia, taking along with her the whole family +party, paid her devotions in storey after storey, and visited every +place. + +The young pages, who stood outside, watched their old mistress and the +other inmates enter the second row of gates. But of a sudden they espied +Chia Chen wend his way outwards, leading a young Taoist priest, and +calling the servants to come, say; "Take him and give him several +hundreds of cash and abstain from ill-treating him." At these orders, +the domestics approached with hurried step and led him off. + +Chia Chen then inquired from the terrace-steps where the majordomo was. +At this inquiry, the pages standing below, called out in chorus, +"Majordomo!" + +Lin Chih-hsiao ran over at once, while adjusting his hat with one hand, +and appeared in the presence of Chia Chen. + +"Albeit this is a spacious place," Chia Chen began, "we muster a good +concourse to-day, so you'd better bring into this court those servants, +who'll be of any use to you, and send over into that one those who +won't. And choose a few from among those young pages to remain on duty, +at the second gate and at the two side entrances, so as to ask for +things and deliver messages. Do you understand me, yes or no? The young +ladies and ladies have all come out of town to-day, and not a single +outsider must be permitted to put his foot in here." + +"I understand," replied Lin Chih-hsiao hurriedly signifying his +obedience. Next he uttered several yes's. + +"Now," proceeded Chia Chen; "you can go on your way. But how is it, I +don't see anything of Jung Erh?" he went on to ask. + +This question was barely out of his lips, when he caught sight of Jung +Erh running out of the belfry. "Look at him," shouted Chia Chen. "Look +at him! I don't feel hot in here, and yet he must go in search of a cool +place. Spit at him!" he cried to the family servants. + +The young pages were fully aware that Chia Chen's ordinary disposition +was such that he could not brook contradiction, and one of the lads +speedily came forward and sputtered in Chia Jung's face. But Chia Chen +still kept his gaze fixed on him, so the young page had to inquire of +Chia Jung: "Master doesn't feel hot here, and how is it that you, Sir, +have been the first to go and get cool?" + +Chia Jung however dropped his arms, and did not venture to utter a +single sound. Chia Yuen, Chia P'ing, Chia Ch'in and the other young +people overheard what was going on and not only were they scared out of +their wits, but even Chia Lien, Chia Pin, Chia Ch'ung and their +companions were stricken with intense fright and one by one they quietly +slipped down along the foot of the wall. + +"What are you standing there for?" Chia Chen shouted to Chia Jung. +"Don't you yet get on your horse and gallop home and tell your mother +that our venerable senior is here with all the young ladies, and bid +them come at once and wait upon them?" + +As soon as Chia Jung heard these words, he ran out with hurried stride +and called out repeatedly for his horse. Now he felt resentment, arguing +within himself: "Who knows what he has been up to the whole morning, +that he now finds fault with me!" Now he went on to abuse the young +servants, crying: "Are your hands made fast, that you can't lead the +horse round?" And he felt inclined to bid a servant-boy go on the +errand, but fearing again lest he should subsequently be found out, and +be at a loss how to account for his conduct he felt compelled to proceed +in person; so mounting his steed, he started on his way. + +But to return to Chia Chen. Just as he was about to be take himself +inside, he noticed the Taoist Chang, who stood next to him, force a +smile. "I'm not properly speaking," he remarked, "on the same footing as +the others and should be in attendance inside, but as on account of the +intense heat, the young ladies have come out of doors, I couldn't +presume to take upon myself to intrude and ask what your orders, Sir, +are. But the dowager lady may possibly inquire about me, or may like to +visit any part of the temple, so I shall wait in here." + +Chia Chen was fully cognisant that this Taoist priest, Chang, had, it is +true, in past days, stood as a substitute for the Duke of the Jung Kuo +mansion, but that the former Emperor had, with his own lips, conferred +upon him the appellation of the 'Immortal being of the Great Unreal,' +that he held at present the seal of 'Taoist Superior,' that the reigning +Emperor had raised him to the rank of the 'Pure man,' that the princes, +now-a-days, dukes, and high officials styled him the "Supernatural +being," and he did not therefore venture to treat him with any +disrespect. In the second place, (he knew that) he had paid frequent +visits to the mansions, and that he had made the acquaintance of the +ladies and young ladies, so when he heard his present remark he +smilingly rejoined. "Do you again make use of such language amongst +ourselves? One word more, and I'll take that beard of yours, and outroot +it! Don't you yet come along with me inside?" + +"Hah, hah," laughed the Taoist Chang aloud, as he followed Chia Chen in. +Chia Chen approached dowager lady Chia. Bending his body he strained a +laugh. "Grandfather Chang," he said, "has come in to pay his respects." + +"Raise him up!" old lady Chia vehemently called out. + +Chia Chen lost no time in pulling him to his feet and bringing him over. + +The Taoist Chang first indulged in loud laughter. "Oh Buddha of +unlimited years!" he then observed. "Have you kept all right and in good +health, throughout, venerable Senior? Have all the ladies and young +ladies continued well? I haven't been for some time to your mansion to +pay my obeisance, but you, my dowager lady, have improved more and +more." + +"Venerable Immortal Being!" smiled old lady Chia, "how are you; quite +well?" + +"Thanks to the ten thousand blessings he has enjoyed from your hands," +rejoined Chang the Taoist, "your servant too continues pretty strong and +hale. In every other respect, I've, after all, been all right; but I +have felt much concern about Mr. Pao-yue. Has he been all right all the +time? The other day, on the 26th of the fourth moon, I celebrated the +birthday of the 'Heaven-Pervading-Mighty-King;' few people came and +everything went off right and proper. I told them to invite Mr. Pao to +come for a stroll; but how was it they said that he wasn't at home?" + +"It was indeed true that he was away from home," remarked dowager lady +Chia. As she spoke, she turned her head round and called Pao-yue. + +Pao-yue had, as it happened, just returned from outside where he had been +to make himself comfortable, and with speedy step, he came forward. "My +respects to you, grandfather Chang," he said. + +The Taoist Chang eagerly clasped him in his arms and inquired how he was +getting on. Turning towards old lady Chia, "Mr. Pao," he observed, "has +grown fatter than ever." + +"Outwardly, his looks," replied dowager lady Chia, "may be all right, +but, inwardly, he is weak. In addition to this, his father presses him +so much to study that he has again and again managed, all through this +bullying, to make his child fall sick." + +"The other day," continued Chang the Taoist, "I went to several places +on a visit, and saw characters written by Mr. Pao and verses composed by +him, all of which were exceedingly good; so how is it that his worthy +father still feels displeased with him, and maintains that Mr. Pao is +not very fond of his books? According to my humble idea, he knows quite +enough. As I consider Mr. Pao's face, his bearing, his speech and his +deportment," he proceeded, heaving a sigh, "what a striking resemblance +I find in him to the former duke of the Jung mansion!" As he uttered +these words, tears rolled down his cheeks. + +At these words, old lady Chia herself found it hard to control her +feelings. Her face became covered with the traces of tears. "Quite so," +she assented, "I've had ever so many sons and grandsons, and not one of +them betrayed the slightest resemblance to his grandfather; and this +Pao-yue turns out to be the very image of him!" + +"What the former duke of Jung Kuo was like in appearance," Chang, the +Taoist went on to remark, addressing himself to Chia Chen, "you +gentlemen, and your generation, were, of course, needless to say, not in +time to see for yourselves; but I fancy that even our Senior master and +our Master Secundus have but a faint recollection of it." + +This said, he burst into another loud fit of laughter. "The other day," +he resumed, "I was at some one's house and there I met a young girl, who +is this year in her fifteenth year, and verily gifted with a beautiful +face, and I bethought myself that Mr. Pao must also have a wife found +for him. As far as looks, intelligence and mental talents, extraction +and family standing go, this maiden is a suitable match for him. But as +I didn't know what your venerable ladyship would have to say about it, +your servant did not presume to act recklessly, but waited until I could +ascertain your wishes before I took upon myself to open my mouth with +the parties concerned." + +"Some time ago," responded dowager lady Chia, "a bonze explained that it +was ordained by destiny that this child shouldn't be married at an early +age, and that we should put things off until he grew somewhat in years +before anything was settled. But mark my words now. Pay no regard as to +whether she be of wealthy and honourable stock or not, the essential +thing is to find one whose looks make her a fit match for him and then +come at once and tell me. For even admitting that the girl is poor, all +I shall have to do will be to bestow on her a few ounces of silver; but +fine looks and a sweet temperament are not easy things to come across." + +When she had done speaking, lady Feng was heard to smilingly interpose: +"Grandfather Chang, aren't you going to change the talisman of 'Recorded +Name' of our daughter? The other day, lucky enough for you, you had +again the great cheek to send some one to ask me for some satin of +gosling-yellow colour. I gave it to you, for had I not, I was afraid +lest your old face should have been made to feel uneasy." + +"Hah, hah," roared the Taoist Chang, "just see how my eyes must have +grown dim! I didn't notice that you, my lady, were in here; nor did I +express one word of thanks to you! The talisman of 'Recorded Name' is +ready long ago. I meant to have sent it over the day before yesterday, +but the unforeseen visit of the Empress to perform meritorious deeds +upset my equilibrium, and made me quite forget it. But it's still placed +before the gods, and if you will wait I'll go and fetch it." + +Saying this, he rushed into the main hall. Presently, he returned with a +tea-tray in hand, on which was spread a deep red satin cover, brocaded +with dragons. In this, he presented the charm. Ta Chieh-erh's nurse took +it from him. + +But just as the Taoist was on the point of taking Ta Chieh-erh in his +embrace, lady Feng remarked with a smile: "It would have been sufficient +if you'd carried it in your hand! And why use a tray to lay it on?" + +"My hands aren't clean," replied the Taoist Chang, "so how could I very +well have taken hold of it? A tray therefore made things much cleaner!" + +"When you produced that tray just now," laughed lady Feng, "you gave me +quite a start; I didn't imagine that it was for the purpose of bringing +the charm in. It really looked as if you were disposed to beg donations +of us." + +This observation sent the whole company into a violent fit of laughter. +Even Chia Chen could not suppress a smile. + +"What a monkey!" dowager lady Chia exclaimed, turning her head round. +"What a monkey you are! Aren't you afraid of going down to that Hell, +where tongues are cut off?" + +"I've got nothing to do with any men whatever," rejoined lady Feng +laughing, "and why does he time and again tell me that it's my bounden +duty to lay up a store of meritorious deeds; and that if I'm remiss, my +life will be short?" + +Chang, the Taoist, indulged in further laughter. "I brought out," he +explained, "the tray so as to kill two birds with one stone. It wasn't, +however, to beg for donations. On the contrary, it was in order to put +in it the jade, which I meant to ask Mr. Pao to take off, so as to carry +it outside and let all those Taoist friends of mine, who come from far +away, as well as my neophytes and the young apprentices, see what it's +like." + +"Well, since that be the case," added old lady Chia, "why do you, at +your age, try your strength by running about the whole day long? Take +him at once along and let them see it! But were you to have called him +in there, wouldn't it have saved a lot of trouble?" + +"Your venerable ladyship," resumed Chang, the Taoist, "isn't aware that +though I be, to look at, a man of eighty, I, after all, continue, thanks +to your protection, my dowager lady, quite hale and strong. In the +second place, there are crowds of people in the outer rooms; and the +smells are not agreeable. Besides it's a very hot day and Mr. Pao +couldn't stand the heat as he is not accustomed to it. So were he to +catch any disease from the filthy odours, it would be a grave thing!" + +After these forebodings old lady Chia accordingly desired Pao-yue to +unclasp the jade of Spiritual Perception, and to deposit it in the tray. +The Taoist, Chang, carefully ensconced it in the folds of the wrapper, +embroidered with dragons, and left the room, supporting the tray with +both his hands. + +During this while, dowager lady Chia and the other inmates devoted more +of their time in visiting the various places. But just as they were on +the point of going up the two-storied building, they heard Chia Chen +shout: "Grandfather Chang has brought back the jade." + +As he spoke, the Taoist Chang was seen advancing up to them, the tray in +hand. "The whole company," he smiled, "were much obliged to me. They +think Mr. Pao's jade really lovely! None of them have, however, any +suitable gifts to bestow. These are religious articles, used by each of +them in propagating the doctrines of Reason, but they're all only too +ready to give them as congratulatory presents. If, Mr. Pao, you don't +fancy them for anything else, just keep them to play with or to give +away to others." + +Dowager lady Chia, at these words, looked into the tray. She discovered +that its contents consisted of gold signets, and jade rings, or +sceptres, implying: "may you have your wishes accomplished in +everything," or "may you enjoy peace and health from year to year;" that +the various articles were strung with pearls or inlaid with precious +stones, worked in jade or mounted in gold; and that they were in all +from thirty to fifty. + +"What nonsense you're talking!" she then exclaimed. "Those people are +all divines, and where could they have rummaged up these things? But +what need is there for any such presents? He may, on no account, accept +them." + +"These are intended as a small token of their esteem," responded Chang, +the Taoist, smiling, "your servant cannot therefore venture to interfere +with them. If your venerable ladyship will not keep them, won't you make +it patent to them that I'm treated contemptuously, and unlike what one +should be, who has joined the order through your household?" + +Only when old lady Chia heard these arguments did she direct a servant +to receive the presents. + +"Venerable senior," Pao-yue smilingly chimed in. "After the reasons +advanced by grandfather Chang, we cannot possibly refuse them. But +albeit I feel disposed to keep these things, they are of no avail to me; +so would it not be well were a servant told to carry the tray and to +follow me out of doors, that I may distribute them to the poor? + +"You are perfectly right in what you say!" smiled dowager lady Chia. + +The Taoist Chang, however, went on speedily to use various arguments to +dissuade him. "Mr. Pao," he observed, "your intention is, it is true, to +perform charitable acts; but though you may aver that these things are +of little value, you'll nevertheless find among them several articles +you might turn to some account. Were you to let the beggars have them, +why they will, first of all, be none the better for them; and, next, it +will contrariwise be tantamount to throwing them away! If you want to +distribute anything among the poor, why don't you dole out cash to +them?" + +"Put them by!" promptly shouted Pao-yue, after this rejoinder, "and when +evening comes, take a few cash and distribute them." + +These directions given, Chang, the Taoist, retired out of the place. + +Dowager lady Chia and her companions thereupon walked upstairs and sat +in the main part of the building. Lady Feng and her friends adjourned +into the eastern part, while the waiting-maids and servants remained in +the western portion, and took their turns in waiting on their +mistresses. + +Before long, Chia Chen came back. "The plays," he announced, "have been +chosen by means of slips picked out before the god. The first one on the +list is the 'Record of the White Snake.'" + +"Of what kind of old story does 'the record of the white snake,' treat?" +old lady Chia inquired. + +"The story about Han Kao-tsu," replied Chia Chen, "killing a snake and +then ascending the throne. The second play is, 'the Bed covered with +ivory tablets.'" + +"Has this been assigned the second place?" asked dowager lady Chia. "Yet +never mind; for as the gods will it thus, there is no help than not to +demur. But what about the third play?" she went on to inquire. + +"The Nan Ko dream is the third," Chia Chen answered. + +This response elicited no comment from dowager lady Chia. Chia Chen +therefore withdrew downstairs, and betook himself outside to make +arrangements for the offerings to the gods, for the paper money and +eatables that had to be burnt, and for the theatricals about to begin. +So we will leave him without any further allusion, and take up our +narrative with Pao-yue. + +Seating himself upstairs next to old lady Chia, he called to a +servant-girl to fetch the tray of presents given to him a short while +back, and putting on his own trinket of jade, he fumbled about with the +things for a bit, and picking up one by one, he handed them to his +grandmother to admire. But old lady Chia espied among them a unicorn, +made of purplish gold, with kingfisher feathers inserted, and eagerly +extending her arm, she took it up. "This object," she smiled, "seems to +me to resemble very much one I've seen worn also by the young lady of +some household or other of ours." + +"Senior cousin, Shih Hsiang-yuen," chimed in Pao-ch'ai, a smile playing +on her lips, "has one, but it's a trifle smaller than this." + +"Is it indeed Yuen-erh who has it?" exclaimed old lady Chia. + +"Now that she lives in our house," remarked Pao-yue, "how is it that even +I haven't seen anything of it?" + +"Cousin Pao-ch'ai," rejoined T'an Ch'un laughingly, "has the power of +observation; no matter what she sees, she remembers." + +Lin Tai-yue gave a sardonic smile. "As far as other matters are +concerned," she insinuated, "her observation isn't worth speaking of; +where she's extra-observant is in articles people may wear about their +persons." + +Pao-chai, upon catching this sneering remark, at once turned her head +round, and pretended she had not heard. But as soon as Pao-yue learnt +that Shih Hsiang-yuen possessed a similar trinket, he speedily picked up +the unicorn, and hid it in his breast, indulging, at the same time, in +further reflection. Yet, fearing lest people might have noticed that he +kept back that particular thing the moment he discovered that Shih +Hsiang-yuen had one identical with it, he fixed his eyes intently upon +all around while clutching it. He found however that not one of them was +paying any heed to his movements except Lin Tai-yue, who, while gazing at +him was, nodding her head, as if with the idea of expressing her +admiration. Pao-yue, therefore, at once felt inwardly ill at ease, and +pulling out his hand, he observed, addressing himself to Tai-yue with an +assumed smile, "This is really a fine thing to play with; I'll keep it +for you, and when we get back home, I'll pass a ribbon through it for +you to wear." "I don't care about it," said Lin Tai-yue, giving her head +a sudden twist. + +"Well," continued Pao-yue laughingly, "if you don't like it, I can't do +otherwise than keep it myself." + +Saying this, he once again thrust it away. But just as he was about to +open his lips to make some other observation, he saw Mrs. Yu, the spouse +of Chia Chen, arrive along with the second wife recently married by Chia +Jung, that is, his mother and her daughter-in-law, to pay their +obeisance to dowager lady Chia. + +"What do you people rush over here for again?" old lady Chia inquired. + +"I came here for a turn, simply because I had nothing to do." + +But no sooner was this inquiry concluded than they heard a messenger +announce: "that some one had come from the house of general Feng." + +The family of Feng Tzu-ying had, it must be explained, come to learn the +news that the inmates of the Chia mansion were offering a thanksgiving +service in the temple, and, without loss of time, they got together +presents of pigs, sheep, candles, tea and eatables and sent them over. +The moment lady Feng heard about it she hastily crossed to the main part +of the two-storied building. "Ai-ya;" she ejaculated, clapping her hands +and laughing. "I never expected anything of the sort; we merely said +that we ladies were coming for a leisurely stroll and people imagined +that we were spreading a sumptuous altar with lenten viands and came to +bring us offerings! But it's all our old lady's fault for bruiting it +about! Why, we haven't even got any slips of paper with tips ready." + +She had just finished speaking, when she perceived two matrons, who +acted as house-keepers in the Feng family, walk upstairs. But before the +Feng servants could take their leave, presents likewise arrived, in +quick succession, from Chao, the Vice-President of the Board. In due +course, one lot of visitors followed another. For as every one got wind +of the fact that the Chia family was having thanksgiving services, and +that the ladies were in the temple, distant and close relatives, +friends, old friends and acquaintances all came to present their +contributions. So much so, that dowager lady Chia began at this juncture +to feel sorry that she had ever let the cat out of the bag. "This is no +regular fasting," she said, "we simply have come for a little change; +and we should not have put any one to any inconvenience!" Although +therefore she was to have remained present all day at the theatrical +performance, she promptly returned home soon after noon, and the next +day she felt very loth to go out of doors again. + +"By striking the wall, we've also stirred up dust," lady Feng argued. +"Why we've already put those people to the trouble so we should only be +too glad to-day to have another outing." + +But as when dowager lady Chia interviewed the Taoist Chang, the previous +day, he made allusion to Pao-yue and canvassed his engagement, Pao-yue +experienced, little as one would have thought it, much secret +displeasure during the whole of that day, and on his return home he flew +into a rage and abused Chang, the rationalistic priest, for harbouring +designs to try and settle a match for him. At every breath and at every +word he resolved that henceforward he would not set eyes again upon the +Taoist Chang. But no one but himself had any idea of the reason that +actuated him to absent himself. In the next place, Lin Tai-yue began +also, on her return the day before, to ail from a touch of the sun, so +their grandmother was induced by these two considerations to remain firm +in her decision not to go. When lady Feng, however, found that she would +not join them, she herself took charge of the family party and set out +on the excursion. + +But without descending to particulars, let us advert to Pao-yue. Seeing +that Lin Tai-yue had fallen ill, he was so full of solicitude on her +account that he even had little thought for any of his meals, and not +long elapsed before he came to inquire how she was. + +Tai-yue, on her part, gave way to fear lest anything should happen to +him, (and she tried to re-assure him). "Just go and look at the plays," +she therefore replied, "what's the use of boxing yourself up at home?" + +Pao-yue was, however, not in a very happy frame of mind on account of the +reference to his marriage made by Chang, the Taoist, the day before, so +when he heard Lin Tai-yue's utterances: "If others don't understand me;" +he mused, "it's anyhow excusable; but has she too begun to make fun of +me?" His heart smarted in consequence under the sting of a mortification +a hundred times keener than he had experienced up to that occasion. Had +he been with any one else, it would have been utterly impossible for her +to have brought into play feelings of such resentment, but as it was no +other than Tai-yue who spoke the words, the impression produced upon him +was indeed different from that left in days gone by, when others +employed similar language. Unable to curb his feelings, he +instantaneously lowered his face. "My friendship with you has been of no +avail" he rejoined. "But, never mind, patience!" + +This insinuation induced Lin Tai-yue to smile a couple of sarcastic +smiles. "Yes, your friendship with me has been of no avail," she +repeated; "for how can I compare with those whose manifold qualities +make them fit matches for you?" + +As soon as this sneer fell on Pao-yue's ear he drew near to her. "Are you +by telling me this," he asked straight to her face, "deliberately bent +upon invoking imprecations upon me that I should be annihilated by +heaven and extinguished by earth?" + +Lin Tai-yue could not for a time fathom the import of his remarks. "It +was," Pao-yue then resumed, "on account of this very conversation that I +yesterday swore several oaths, and now would you really make me repeat +another one? But were the heavens to annihilate me and the earth to +extinguish me, what benefit would you derive?" + +This rejoinder reminded Tai-yue of the drift of their conversation on the +previous day. And as indeed she had on this occasion framed in words +those sentiments, which should not have dropped from her lips, she +experienced both annoyance and shame, and she tremulously observed: "If +I entertain any deliberate intention to bring any harm upon you, may I +too be destroyed by heaven and exterminated by earth! But what's the use +of all this! I know very well that the allusion to marriage made +yesterday by Chang, the Taoist, fills you with dread lest he might +interfere with your choice. You are inwardly so irate that you come and +treat me as your malignant influence." + +Pao-yue, the fact is, had ever since his youth developed a peculiar kind +of mean and silly propensity. Having moreover from tender infancy grown +up side by side with Tai-Yue, their hearts and their feelings were in +perfect harmony. More, he had recently come to know to a great extent +what was what, and had also filled his head with the contents of a +number of corrupt books and licentious stories. Of all the eminent and +beautiful girls that he had met too in the families of either distant or +close relatives or of friends, not one could reach the standard of Lin +Tai-yue. Hence it was that he commenced, from an early period of his +life, to foster sentiments of love for her; but as he could not very +well give utterance to them, he felt time and again sometimes elated, +sometimes vexed, and wont to exhaust every means to secretly subject her +heart to a test. + +Lin Tai-yue happened, on the other hand, to possess in like manner a +somewhat silly disposition; and she too frequently had recourse to +feigned sentiments to feel her way. And as she began to conceal her true +feelings and inclinations and to simply dissimulate, and he to conceal +his true sentiments and wishes and to dissemble, the two unrealities +thus blending together constituted eventually one reality. But it was +hardly to be expected that trifles would not be the cause of tiffs +between them. Thus it was that in Pao-yue's mind at this time prevailed +the reflection: "that were others unable to read my feelings, it would +anyhow be excusable; but is it likely that you cannot realise that in my +heart and in my eyes there is no one else besides yourself. But as you +were not able to do anything to dispel my annoyance, but made use, +instead, of the language you did to laugh at me, and to gag my mouth, +it's evident that though you hold, at every second and at every moment, +a place in my heart, I don't, in fact, occupy a place in yours." Such +was the construction attached to her conduct by Pao-yue, yet he did not +have the courage to tax her with it. + +"If, really, I hold a place in your heart," Lin Tai-yue again reflected, +"why do you, albeit what's said about gold and jade being a fit match, +attach more importance to this perverse report and think nothing of what +I say? Did you, when I so often broach the subject of this gold and +jade, behave as if you, verily, had never heard anything about it, I +would then have seen that you treat me with preference and that you +don't harbour the least particle of a secret design. But how is it that +the moment I allude to the topic of gold and jade, you at once lose all +patience? This is proof enough that you are continuously pondering over +that gold and jade, and that as soon as you hear me speak to you about +them, you apprehend that I shall once more give way to conjectures, and +intentionally pretend to be quite out of temper, with the deliberate +idea of cajoling me!" + +These two cousins had, to all appearances, once been of one and the same +mind, but the many issues, which had sprung up between them, brought +about a contrary result and made them of two distinct minds. + +"I don't care what you do, everything is well," Pao-yue further argued, +"so long as you act up to your feelings; and if you do, I shall be ever +only too willing to even suffer immediate death for your sake. Whether +you know this or not, doesn't matter; it's all the same. Yet were you to +just do as my heart would have you, you'll afford me a clear proof that +you and I are united by close ties and that you are no stranger to me!" + +"Just you mind your own business," Lin Tai-yue on her side cogitated. "If +you will treat me well, I'll treat you well. And what need is there to +put an end to yourself for my sake? Are you not aware that if you kill +yourself, I'll also kill myself? But this demonstrates that you don't +wish me to be near to you, and that you really want that I should be +distant to you." + +It will thus be seen that the desire, by which they were both actuated, +to strive and draw each other close and ever closer became contrariwise +transformed into a wish to become more distant. But as it is no easy +task to frame into words the manifold secret thoughts entertained by +either, we will now confine ourselves to a consideration of their +external manner. + +The three words "a fine match," which Pao-yue heard again Lin Tai-yue +pronounce proved so revolting to him that his heart got full of disgust +and he was unable to give utterance to a single syllable. Losing all +control over his temper, he snatched from his neck the jade of Spiritual +Perception and, clenching his teeth, he spitefully dashed it down on the +floor. "What rubbishy trash!" he cried. "I'll smash you to atoms and put +an end to the whole question!" + +The jade, however, happened to be of extraordinary hardness, and did +not, after all, sustain the slightest injury from this single fall. When +Pao-yue realised that it had not broken, he forthwith turned himself +round to get the trinket with the idea of carrying out his design of +smashing it, but Tai-yue divined his intention, and soon started crying. +"What's the use of all this!" she demurred, "and why, pray, do you +batter that dumb thing about? Instead of smashing it, wouldn't it be +better for you to come and smash me!" + +But in the middle of their dispute, Tzu Chuean, Hsueeh Yen and the other +maids promptly interfered and quieted them. Subsequently, however, they +saw how deliberately bent Pao-yue was upon breaking the jade, and they +vehemently rushed up to him to snatch it from his hands. But they failed +in their endeavours, and perceiving that he was getting more troublesome +than he had ever been before, they had no alternative but to go and call +Hsi Jen. Hsi Jen lost no time in running over and succeeded, at length, +in getting hold of the trinket. + +"I'm smashing what belongs to me," remarked Pao-yue with a cynical smile, +"and what has that to do with you people?" + +Hsi Jen noticed that his face had grown quite sallow from anger, that +his eyes had assumed a totally unusual expression, and that he had never +hitherto had such a fit of ill-temper and she hastened to take his hand +in hers and to smilingly expostulate with him. "If you've had a tiff +with your cousin," she said, "it isn't worth while flinging this down! +Had you broken it, how would her heart and face have been able to bear +the mortification?" + +Lin Tai-yue shed tears and listened the while to her remonstrances. Yet +these words, which so corresponded with her own feelings, made it clear +to her that Pao-yue could not even compare with Hsi Jen and wounded her +heart so much more to the quick that she began to weep aloud. But the +moment she got so vexed she found it hard to keep down the potion of +boletus and the decoction, for counter-acting the effects of the sun, +she had taken only a few minutes back, and with a retch she brought +everything up. Tzu Chuean immediately pressed to her side and used her +handkerchief to stop her mouth with. But mouthful succeeded mouthful, +and in no time the handkerchief was soaked through and through. + +Hsueeh Yen then approached in a hurry and tapped her on the back. + +"You may, of course, give way to displeasure," Tzu Chuean argued; "but +you should, after all, take good care of yourself Miss. You had just +taken the medicines and felt the better for them; and here you now begin +vomitting again; and all because you've had a few words with our master +Secundus. But should your complaint break out afresh how will Mr. Pao +bear the blow?" + +The moment Pao-yue caught this advice, which accorded so thoroughly with +his own ideas, he found how little Tai-yue could hold her own with Tzu +Chuean. And perceiving how flushed Tai-yue's face was, how her temples +were swollen, how, while sobbing, she panted; and how, while crying, she +was suffused with perspiration, and betrayed signs of extreme weakness, +he began, at the sight of her condition, to reproach himself. "I +shouldn't," he reflected, "have bandied words with her; for now that +she's got into this frame of mind, I mayn't even suffer in her stead!" + +The self-reproaches, however, which gnawed his heart made it impossible +for him to refrain from tears, much as he fought against them. Hsi Jen +saw them both crying, and while attending to Pao-yue, she too unavoidably +experienced much soreness of heart. She nevertheless went on rubbing +Pao-yue's hands, which were icy cold. She felt inclined to advise Pao-yue +not to weep, but fearing again lest, in the first place, Pao-yue might be +inwardly aggrieved, and nervous, in the next, lest she should not be +dealing rightly by Tai-yue, she thought it advisable that they should all +have a good cry, as they might then be able to leave off. She herself +therefore also melted into tears. As for Tzu-Chuean, at one time, she +cleaned the expectorated medicine; at another, she took up a fan and +gently fanned Tai-yue. But at the sight of the trio plunged in perfect +silence, and of one and all sobbing for reasons of their own, grief, +much though she did to struggle against it, mastered her feelings too, +and producing a handkerchief, she dried the tears that came to her eyes. +So there stood four inmates, face to face, uttering not a word and +indulging in weeping. + +Shortly, Hsi Jen made a supreme effort, and smilingly said to Pao-yue: +"If you don't care for anything else, you should at least have shown +some regard for those tassels, strung on the jade, and not have wrangled +with Miss Lin." + +Tai-yue heard these words, and, mindless of her indisposition, she rushed +over, and snatching the trinket, she picked up a pair of scissors, lying +close at hand, bent upon cutting the tassels. Hsi Jen and Tzu Chuean were +on the point of wresting it from her, but she had already managed to +mangle them into several pieces. + +"I have," sobbed Tai-yue, "wasted my energies on them for nothing; for he +doesn't prize them. He's certain to find others to string some more fine +tassels for him." + +Hsi Jen promptly took the jade. "Is it worth while going on in this +way!" she cried. "But this is all my fault for having blabbered just now +what should have been left unsaid." + +"Cut it, if you like!" chimed in Pao-yue, addressing himself to Tai-yue. +"I will on no account wear it, so it doesn't matter a rap." + +But while all they minded inside was to create this commotion, they +little dreamt that the old matrons had descried Tai-yue weep bitterly and +vomit copiously, and Pao-yue again dash his jade on the ground, and that +not knowing how far the excitement might not go, and whether they +themselves might not become involved, they had repaired in a body to the +front, and reported the occurrence to dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang, +their object being to try and avoid being themselves implicated in the +matter. Their old mistress and Madame Wang, seeing them make so much of +the occurrence as to rush with precipitate haste to bring it to their +notice, could not in the least imagine what great disaster might not +have befallen them, and without loss of time they betook themselves +together into the garden and came to see what the two cousins were up +to. + +Hsi Jen felt irritated and harboured resentment against Tzu Chuean, +unable to conceive what business she had to go and disturb their old +mistress and Madame Wang. But Tzu Chuean, on the other hand, presumed +that it was Hsi Jen, who had gone and reported the matter to them, and +she too cherished angry feelings towards Hsi Jen. + +Dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang walked into the apartment. They found +Pao-yue on one side saying not a word. Lin Tai-yue on the other uttering +not a sound. "What's up again?" they asked. But throwing the whole blame +upon the shoulders of Hsi Jen and Tzu Chuean, "why is it," they inquired, +"that you were not diligent in your attendance on them. They now start a +quarrel, and don't you exert yourselves in the least to restrain them?" + +Therefore with obloquy and hard words they rated the two girls for a +time in such a way that neither of them could put in a word by way of +reply, but felt compelled to listen patiently. And it was only after +dowager lady Chia had taken Pao-yue away with her that things quieted +down again. + +One day passed. Then came the third of the moon. This was Hsueeh Pan's +birthday, so in their house a banquet was spread and preparations made +for a performance; and to these the various inmates of the Chia mansion +went. But as Pao-yue had so hurt Tai-yue's feelings, the two cousins saw +nothing whatever of each other, and conscience-stricken, despondent and +unhappy, as he was at this time could he have had any inclination to be +present at the plays? Hence it was that he refused to go on the pretext +of indisposition. + +Lin Tai-yue had got, a couple of days back, but a slight touch of the sun +and naturally there was nothing much the matter with her. When the news +however reached her that he did not intend to join the party, "If with +his weakness for wine and for theatricals," she pondered within herself, +"he now chooses to stay away, instead of going, why, that quarrel with +me yesterday must be at the bottom of it all. If this isn't the reason, +well then it must be that he has no wish to attend, as he sees that I'm +not going either. But I should on no account have cut the tassels from +that jade, for I feel sure he won't wear it again. I shall therefore +have to string some more on to it, before he puts it on." + +On this account the keenest remorse gnawed her heart. + +Dowager lady Chia saw well enough that they were both under the +influence of temper. "We should avail ourselves of this occasion," she +said to herself, "to go over and look at the plays, and as soon as the +two young people come face to face, everything will be squared." +Contrary to her expectations neither of them would volunteer to go. This +so exasperated their old grandmother that she felt vexed with them. "In +what part of my previous existence could an old sufferer like myself," +she exclaimed, "have incurred such retribution that my destiny is to +come across these two troublesome new-fledged foes! Why, not a single +day goes by without their being instrumental in worrying my mind! The +proverb is indeed correct which says: 'that people who are not enemies +are not brought together!' But shortly my eyes shall be closed, this +breath of mine shall be snapped, and those two enemies will be free to +cause trouble even up to the very skies; for as my eyes will then loose +their power of vision, and my heart will be void of concern, it will +really be nothing to me. But I couldn't very well stifle this breath of +life of mine!" + +While inwardly a prey to resentment, she also melted into tears. + +These words were brought to the ears of Pao-yue and Tai-yue. Neither of +them had hitherto heard the adage: "people who are not enemies are not +brought together," so when they suddenly got to know the line, it seemed +as if they had apprehended abstraction. Both lowered their heads and +meditated on the subtle sense of the saying. But unconsciously a stream +of tears rolled down their cheeks. They could not, it is true, get a +glimpse of each other; yet as the one was in the Hsiao Hsiang lodge, +standing in the breeze, bedewed with tears, and the other in the I Hung +court, facing the moon and heaving deep sighs, was it not, in fact, a +case of two persons living in two distinct places, yet with feelings +emanating from one and the same heart? + +Hsi Jen consequently tendered advice to Pao-yue. "You're a million times +to blame," she said, "it's you who are entirely at fault! For when some +time ago the pages in the establishment, wrangled with their sisters, or +when husband and wife fell out, and you came to hear anything about it, +you blew up the lads, and called them fools for not having the heart to +show some regard to girls; and now here you go and follow their lead. +But to-morrow is the fifth day of the moon, a great festival, and will +you two still continue like this, as if you were very enemies? If so, +our venerable mistress will be the more angry, and she certainly will be +driven sick! I advise you therefore to do what's right by suppressing +your spite and confessing your fault, so that we should all be on the +same terms as hitherto. You here will then be all right, and so will she +over there." + +Pao-yue listened to what she had to say; but whether he fell in with her +views or not is not yet ascertained; yet if you, reader, choose to know, +we will explain in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + Pao-ch'ai avails herself of the excuse afforded her by a fan to + administer a couple of raps. + While Ch'un Ling traces, in a absent frame of mind, the outlines of + the character Ch'iang, a looker-on appears on the scene. + + +Lin Tai-yue herself, for we will now resume our narrative, was also, ever +since her tiff with Pao-yue, full of self-condemnation, yet as she did +not see why she should run after him, she continued, day and night, as +despondent as she would have been had she lost some thing or other +belonging to her. + +Tzu Chuean surmised her sentiments. "As regards what happened the other +day," she advised her, "you were, after all, Miss, a little too hasty; +for if others don't understand that temperament of Pao-yue's, have you +and I, surely, also no idea about it? Besides, haven't there been +already one or two rows on account of that very jade?" + +"Ts'ui!" exclaimed Tai-yue. "Have you come, on behalf of others, to find +fault with me? But how ever was I hasty?" + +"Why did you," smiled Tzu Chuean, "take the scissors and cut that tassel +when there was no good reason for it? So isn't Pao-yue less to blame than +yourself, Miss? I've always found his behaviour towards you, Miss, +without a fault. It's all that touchy disposition of yours, which makes +you so often perverse, that induces him to act as he does." + +Lin Tai-yue had every wish to make some suitable reply, when she heard +some one calling at the door. Tzu Chuean discerned the tone of voice. +"This sounds like Pao-yue's voice," she smiled. "I expect he's come to +make his apologies." + +"I won't have any one open the door," Tai-yue cried at these words. + +"Here you are in the wrong again, Miss," Tzu Chuean observed. "How will +it ever do to let him get a sunstroke and come to some harm on a day +like this, and under such a scorching sun?" + +Saying this, she speedily walked out and opened the door. It was indeed +Pao-yue. While ushering him in, she gave him a smile. "I imagined," she +said, "that you would never again put your foot inside our door, Master +Secundus. But here you are once more and quite unexpectedly!" + +"You have by dint of talking," Pao-yue laughed, "made much ado of +nothing; and why shouldn't I come, when there's no reason for me to keep +away? Were I even to die, my spirit too will come a hundred times a day! +But is cousin quite well?" + +"She is," replied Tzu Chuean, "physically all right; but, mentally, her +resentment is not quite over." + +"I understand," continued Pao-yue with a smile. "But resentment, for +what?" + +With this inquiry, he wended his steps inside the apartment. He then +caught sight of Lin Tai-yue reclining on the bed in the act of crying. +Tai-yue had not in fact shed a tear, but hearing Pao-yue break in upon +her, she could not help feeling upset. She found it impossible therefore +to prevent her tears from rolling down her cheeks. + +Pao-yue assumed a smiling expression and drew near the bed. "Cousin, are +you quite well again?" he inquired. + +Tai-yue simply went on drying her tears, and made no reply of any kind. + +Pao-yue approached the bed, and sat on the edge of it. "I know," he +smiled, "that you're not vexed with me. But had I not come, third +parties would have been allowed to notice my absence, and it would have +appeared to them as if we had had another quarrel. And had I to wait +until they came to reconcile us, would we not by that time become +perfect strangers? It would be better, supposing you wish to beat me or +blow me up, that you should please yourself and do so now; but whatever +you do, don't give me the cold shoulder!" + +Continuing, he proceeded to call her "my dear cousin" for several tens +of times. + +Tai-yue had resolved not to pay any more heed to Pao-yue. When she, +however, now heard Pao-yue urge: "don't let us allow others to know +anything about our having had a quarrel, as it will look as if we had +become thorough strangers," it once more became evident to her, from +this single remark, that she was really dearer and nearer to him than +any of the other girls, so she could not refrain from saying sobbingly: +"You needn't have come to chaff me! I couldn't presume henceforward to +be on friendly terms with you, Master Secundus! You should treat me as +if I were gone!" + +At these words, Pao-yue gave way to laughter. "Where are you off to?" he +inquired. + +"I'm going back home," answered Tai-yue. + +"I'll go along with you then," smiled Pao-yue. + +"But if I die?" asked Tai-yue. + +"Well, if you die," rejoined Pao-yue, "I'll become a bonze." + +The moment Tai-yue caught this reply, she hung down her head. "You must, +I presume, be bent upon dying?" she cried. "But what stuff and nonsense +is this you're talking? You've got so many beloved elder and younger +cousins in your family, and how many bodies will you have to go and +become bonzes, when by and bye they all pass away! But to-morrow I'll +tell them about this to judge for themselves what your motives are!" + +Pao-yue was himself aware of the fact that this rejoinder had been +recklessly spoken, and he was seized with regret. His face immediately +became suffused with blushes. He lowered his head and had not the +courage to utter one word more. Fortunately, however, there was no one +present in the room. + +Tai-yue stared at him for ever so long with eyes fixed straight on him, +but losing control over her temper, "Ai!" she shouted, "can't you +speak?" Then when she perceived Pao-yue reduced to such straits as to +turn purple, she clenched her teeth and spitefully gave him, on the +forehead, a fillip with her finger. "Heug!" she cried gnashing her +teeth, "you, this......" But just as she had pronounced these two words, +she heaved another sigh, and picking up her handkerchief, she wiped her +tears. + +Pao-yue treasured at one time numberless tender things in his mind, which +he meant to tell her, but feeling also, while he smarted under the sting +of self-reproach (for the indiscretion he had committed), Tai-yue give +him a rap, he was utterly powerless to open his lips, much though he may +have liked to speak, so he kept on sighing and snivelling to himself. +With all these things therefore to work upon his feelings, he +unwillingly melted into tears. He tried to find his handkerchief to dry +his face with, but unexpectedly discovering that he had again forgotten +to bring one with him, he was about to make his coat-sleeve answer the +purpose, when Tai-yue, albeit her eyes were watery, noticed at a glance +that he was going to use the brand-new coat of grey coloured gauze he +wore, and while wiping her own, she turned herself round, and seized a +silk kerchief thrown over the pillow, and thrust it into Pao-yue's lap. +But without saying a word, she screened her face and continued sobbing. + +Pao-yue saw the handkerchief she threw, and hastily snatching it, he +wiped his tears. Then drawing nearer to her, he put out his hand and +clasped her hand in his, and smilingly said to her: "You've completely +lacerated my heart, and do you still cry? But let's go; I'll come along +with you and see our venerable grandmother." + +Tai-yue thrust his hand aside. "Who wants to go hand in hand with you?" +she cried. "Here we grow older day after day, but we're still so full of +brazen-faced effrontery that we don't even know what right means?" + +But scarcely had she concluded before she heard a voice say aloud: +"They're all right!" + +Pao-yue and Tai-yue were little prepared for this surprise, and they were +startled out of their senses. Turning round to see who it was, they +caught sight of lady Feng running in, laughing and shouting. "Our old +lady," she said, "is over there, giving way to anger against heaven and +earth. She would insist upon my coming to find out whether you were +reconciled or not. 'There's no need for me to go and see,' I told her, +'they will before the expiry of three days, be friends again of their +own accord.' Our venerable ancestor, however, called me to account, and +maintained that I was lazy; so here I come! But my words have in very +deed turned out true. I don't see why you two should always be +wrangling! For three days you're on good terms and for two on bad. You +become more and more like children. And here you are now hand in hand +blubbering! But why did you again yesterday become like black-eyed +fighting cocks? Don't you yet come with me to see your grandmother and +make an old lady like her set her mind at ease a bit?" + +While reproaching them, she clutched Tai-yue's hand and was trudging +away, when Tai-yue turned her head round and called out for her +servant-girls. But not one of them was in attendance. + +"What do you want them for again?" lady Feng asked. "I am here to wait +on you!" + +Still speaking, she pulled her along on their way, with Pao-yue following +in their footsteps. Then making their exit out of the garden gate, they +entered dowager lady Chia's suite of rooms. "I said that it was +superfluous for any one to trouble," lady Feng smiled, "as they were +sure of themselves to become reconciled; but you, dear ancestor, so +little believed it that you insisted upon my going to act the part of +mediator. Yet when I got there, with the intention of inducing them to +make it up, I found them, though one did not expect it, in each other's +company, confessing their faults, and laughing and chatting. Just like a +yellow eagle clutching the feet of a kite were those two hanging on to +each other. So where was the necessity for any one to go?" + +These words evoked laughter from every one in the room. Pao-ch'ai, +however, was present at the time so Lin Tai-yue did not retort, but went +and ensconced herself in a seat near her grandmother. + +When Pao-yue noticed that no one had anything to say, he smilingly +addressed himself to Pao-ch'ai. "On cousin Hsueeh P'an's birth-day," he +remarked, "I happened again to be unwell, so not only did I not send him +any presents, but I failed to go and knock my head before him. Yet +cousin knows nothing about my having been ill, and it will seem to him +that I had no wish to go, and that I brought forward excuses so as to +avoid paying him a visit. If to-morrow you find any leisure, cousin, do +therefore explain matters for me to him." + +"This is too much punctiliousness!" smiled Pao-ch'ai. "Even had you +insisted upon going, we wouldn't have been so arrogant as to let you put +yourself to the trouble, and how much less when you were not feeling +well? You two are cousins and are always to be found together the whole +day; if you encourage such ideas, some estrangement will, after all, +arise between you." + +"Cousin," continued Pao-yue smilingly, "you know what to say; and so long +as you're lenient with me all will be all right. But how is it," he went +on to ask, "that you haven't gone over to see the theatricals?" + +"I couldn't stand the heat" rejoined Pao-ch'ai. "I looked on while two +plays were being sung, but I found it so intensely hot, that I felt +anxious to retire. But the visitors not having dispersed, I had to give +as an excuse that I wasn't feeling up to the mark, and so came away at +once." + +Pao-yue, at these words, could not but feel ill at ease. All he could do +was to feign another smile. "It's no wonder," he observed, "that they +compare you, cousin, to Yang Kuei-fei; for she too was fat and afraid of +hot weather." + +Hearing this, Pao-ch'ai involuntarily flew into a violent rage. Yet when +about to call him to task, she found that it would not be nice for her +to do so. After some reflection, the colour rushed to her cheeks. +Smiling ironically twice, "I may resemble," she said, "Yang Kuei-fei, +but there's not one of you young men, whether senior or junior, good +enough to play the part of Yang Kuo-chung." + +While they were bandying words, a servant-girl Ch'ing Erh, lost sight of +her fan and laughingly remarked to Pao-ch'ai: "It must be you, Miss Pao, +who have put my fan away somewhere or other; dear mistress, do let me +have it!" + +"You'd better be mindful!" rejoined Pao-ch'ai, shaking her finger at +her. "With whom have I ever been up to jokes, that you come and suspect +me? Have I hitherto laughed and smirked with you? There's that whole lot +of girls, go and ask them about it!" + +At this suggestion, Ch'ing Erh made her escape. + +The consciousness then burst upon Pao-yue, that he had again been +inconsiderate in his speech, in the presence of so many persons, and he +was overcome by a greater sense of shame than when, a short while back, +he had been speaking with Lin Tai-yue. Precipitately turning himself +round, he went, therefore, and talked to the others as well. + +The sight of Pao-yue poking fun at Pao-ch'ai gratified Tai-yue immensely. +She was just about to put in her word and also seize the opportunity of +chaffing her, but as Ch'ing Erh unawares asked for her fan and Pao-ch'ai +added a few more remarks, she at once changed her purpose. "Cousin +Pao-ch'ai," she inquired, "what two plays did you hear?" + +Pao-ch'ai caught the expression of gratification in Tai-yue's +countenance, and concluded that she had for a certainty heard the +raillery recently indulged in by Pao-yue and that it had fallen in with +her own wishes; and hearing her also suddenly ask the question she did, +she answered with a significant laugh: "What I saw was: 'Li Kuei blows +up Sung Chiang and subsequently again tenders his apologies'." + +Pao-yue smiled. "How is it," he said, "that with such wide knowledge of +things new as well as old; and such general information as you possess, +you aren't even up to the name of a play, and that you've come out with +such a whole string of words. Why, the real name of the play is: +'Carrying a birch and begging for punishment'". + +"Is it truly called: 'Carrying a birch and begging for punishment'"? +Pao-ch'ai asked with laugh. "But you people know all things new and old +so are able to understand the import of 'carrying a birch and begging +for punishment.' As for me I've no idea whatever what 'carrying a birch +and begging for punishment' implies." + +One sentence was scarcely ended when Pao-yue and Tai-yue felt guilty in +their consciences; and by the time they heard all she said, they were +quite flushed from shame. Lady Feng did not, it is true, fathom the gist +of what had been said, but at the sight of the expression betrayed on +the faces of the three cousins, she readily got an inkling of it. "On +this broiling hot day," she inquired laughing also; "who still eats raw +ginger?" + +None of the party could make out the import of her insinuation. "There's +no one eating raw ginger," they said. + +Lady Feng intentionally then brought her hands to her cheeks, and +rubbing them, she remarked with an air of utter astonishment, "Since +there's no one eating raw ginger, how is it that you are all so fiery in +the face?" + +Hearing this, Pao-yue and Tai-yue waxed more uncomfortable than ever. So +much so, that Pao-ch'ai, who meant to continue the conversation, did not +think it nice to say anything more when she saw how utterly abashed +Pao-yue was and how changed his manner. Her only course was therefore to +smile and hold her peace. And as the rest of the inmates had not the +faintest notion of the drift of the remarks exchanged between the four +of them, they consequently followed her lead and put on a smile. + +In a short while, however, Pao-ch'ai and lady Feng took their leave. + +"You've also tried your strength with them," Tai-yue said to Pao-yue +laughingly. "But they're far worse than I. Is every one as simple in +mind and dull of tongue as I am as to allow people to say whatever they +like." + +Pao-yue was inwardly giving way to that unhappiness, which had been +occasioned by Pao-ch'ai's touchiness, so when he also saw Tai-yue +approach him and taunt him, displeasure keener than ever was aroused in +him. A desire then asserted itself to speak out his mind to her, but +dreading lest Tai-yue should he in one of her sensitive moods, he, +needless to say, stifled his anger and straightway left the apartment in +a state of mental depression. + +It happened to be the season of the greatest heat. Breakfast time too +was already past, and masters as well as servants were, for the most +part, under the influence of the lassitude felt on lengthy days. As +Pao-yue therefore strolled, from place to place, his hands behind his +back he heard not so much as the caw of a crow. Issuing out of his +grandmother's compound on the near side, he wended his steps westwards, +and crossed the passage, on which lady Feng's quarters gave. As soon as +he reached the entrance of her court, he perceived the door ajar. But +aware of lady Feng's habit of taking, during the hot weather, a couple +of hours' siesta at noon, he did not feel it a convenient moment to +intrude. Walking accordingly through the corner door, he stepped into +Madame Wang's apartment. Here he discovered several waiting-maids, +dosing with their needlework clasped in their hands. Madame Wang was +asleep on the cool couch in the inner rooms. Chin Ch'uan-erh was sitting +next to her massaging her legs. But she too was quite drowsy, and her +eyes wore all awry. Pao-yue drew up to her with gentle tread. The moment, +however, that he unfastened the pendants from the earrings she wore, +Chin Ch'uan opened her eyes, and realised that it was no one than +Pao-yue. + +"Are you feeling so worn out!" he smilingly remarked in a low tone of +voice. + +Chin Ch'uan pursed up her lips and gave him a smile. Then waving her +hand so as to bid him quit the room, she again closed her eyes. + +Pao-yue, at the sight of her, felt considerable affection for her and +unable to tear himself away, so quietly stretching his head forward, and +noticing that Madame Wang's eyes were shut, he extracted from a purse, +suspended about his person, one of the 'scented-snow-for-moistening-mouth +pills,' with which it was full, and placed it on Chin Ch'uan-erh's lips. +Chin Ch'uan-erh, however, did not open her eyes, but simply held (the +pill) in her mouth. Pao-yue then approached her and took her hand in his. +"I'll ask you of your mistress," he gently observed smiling, "and you and +I will live together." + +To this Chin Ch'uan-erh said not a word. + +"If that won't do," Pao-yue continued, "I'll wait for your mistress to +wake and appeal to her at once." + +Chin Ch'uan-erh distended her eyes wide, and pushed Pao-yue off. "What's +the hurry?" she laughed. "'A gold hair-pin may fall into the well; but +if it's yours it will remain yours only.' Is it possible that you don't +even see the spirit of this proverb? But I'll tell you a smart thing. +Just you go into the small court, on the east side, and you'll find for +yourself what Mr. Chia Huau and Ts'ai Yun are up to!" + +"Let them be up to whatever they like," smiled Pao-yue, "I shall simply +stick to your side!" + +But he then saw Madame Wang twist herself round, get up, and give a slap +to Chin Ch'uan-erh on her mouth. "You mean wench!" she exclaimed, +abusing her, while she pointed her finger at her, "it's you, and the +like of you, who corrupt these fine young fellows with all the nice +things you teach them!" + +The moment Pao-yue perceived Madame Wang rise, he bolted like a streak of +smoke. Chin Ch'uan-erh, meanwhile, felt half of her face as hot as fire, +yet she did not dare utter one word of complaint. The various +waiting-maids soon came to hear that Madame Wang had awoke and they +rushed in in a body. + +"Go and tell your mother," Madame Wang thereupon said to Yue Ch'uan-erh, +"to fetch your elder sister away." + +Chin Ch'uan-erh, at these words, speedily fell on her knees. With tears +in her eyes: "I won't venture to do it again," she pleaded. "If you, +Madame, wish to flog me, or to scold me do so at once, and as much as +you like but don't send me away. You will thus accomplish an act of +heavenly grace! I've been in attendance on your ladyship for about ten +years, and if you now drive me away, will I be able to look at any one +in the face?" + +Though Madame Wang was a generous, tender-hearted person, and had at no +time raised her hand to give a single blow to any servant-girl, she, +however, when she accidentally discovered Chin Ch'uan-erh behave on this +occasion in this barefaced manner, a manner which had all her lifetime +been most reprehensible to her, was so overcome by passion that she gave +Chin Ch'uan-erh just one slap and spoke to her a few sharp words. And +albeit Chin Ch'uan-erh indulged in solicitous entreaties, she would not +on any account keep her in her service. At length, Chin Ch'uan-erh's +mother, Dame Pao, was sent for to take her away. Chin Ch'uan-erh +therefore had to conceal her disgrace, suppress her resentment, and quit +the mansion. + +But without any further reference to her, we will now take up our story +with Pao-yue. As soon as he saw Madame Wang awake, his spirits were +crushed. All alone he hastily made his way into the Ta Kuan garden. Here +his attention was attracted by the ruddy sun, shining in the zenith, the +shade of the trees extending far and wide, the song of the cicadas, +filling the ear; and by a perfect stillness, not even broken by the echo +of a human voice. But the instant he got near the trellis, with the +cinnamon roses, the sound of sobs fell on his ear. Doubts and surmises +crept into Pao-yue's mind, so halting at once, he listened with +intentness. Then actually he discerned some one on the off-side of the +trellis. This was the fifth moon, the season when the flowers and +foliage of the cinnamon roses were in full bloom. Furtively peeping +through an aperture in the fence, Pao-yue saw a young girl squatting +under the flowers and digging the ground with a hair-pin she held in her +hand. As she dug, she silently gave way to tears. + +"Can it be possible," mused Pao-yue, "that this girl too is stupid? Can +she also be following P'in Erh's example and come to inter flowers? Why +if she's likewise really burying flowers," he afterwards went on to +smilingly reflect, "this can aptly be termed: 'Tung Shih tries to +imitate a frown.' But not only is what she does not original, but it is +despicable to boot. You needn't," he meant to shout out to the girl, at +the conclusion of this train of thought, "try and copy Miss Lin's +example." But before the words had issued from his mouth, he luckily +scrutinised her a second time, and found that the girl's features were +quite unfamiliar to him, that she was no menial, and that she looked +like one of the twelve singing maids, who were getting up the plays. He +could not, however, make out what _roles_ she filled: scholars, +girls, old men, women, or buffoons. Pao-yue quickly put out his tongue +and stopped his mouth with his hand. "How fortunate," he inwardly +soliloquised, "that I didn't make any reckless remark! It was all +because of my inconsiderate talk on the last two occasions, that P'in +Erh got angry with me, and that Pao-ch'ai felt hurt. And had I now given +them offence also, I would have been in a still more awkward fix!" + +While wrapt in these thoughts, he felt much annoyance at not being able +to recognise who she was. But on further minute inspection, he noticed +that this maiden, with contracted eyebrows, as beautiful as the hills in +spring, frowning eyes as clear as the streams in autumn, a face, with +transparent skin, and a slim waist, was elegant and beautiful and almost +the very image of Lin Tai-yue. Pao-yue could not, from the very first, +make up his mind to wrench himself away. But as he stood gazing at her +in a doltish mood, he realised that, although she was tracing on the +ground with the gold hair-pin, she was not digging a hole to bury +flowers in, but was merely delineating characters on the surface of the +soil. Pao-yue's eyes followed the hair-pin from first to last, as it went +up and as it came down. He watched each dash, each dot and each hook. He +counted the strokes. They numbered eighteen. He himself then set to work +and sketched with his finger on the palm of his hand, the lines, in +their various directions, and in the order they had been traced a few +minutes back, so as to endeavour to guess what the character was. On +completing the sketch, he discovered, the moment he came to reflect, +that it was the character "Ch'iang," in the combination, 'Ch'iang Wei,' +representing cinnamon roses. + +"She too," pondered Pao-yue, "must have been bent upon writing verses, or +supplying some line or other, and at the sight now of the flowers, the +idea must have suggested itself to her mind. Or it may very likely be +that having spontaneously devised a couplet, she got suddenly elated and +began, for fear it should slip from her memory, to trace it on the +ground so as to tone the rhythm. Yet there's no saying. Let me see, +however, what she's going to write next." + +While cogitating, he looked once more. Lo, the girl was still tracing. +But tracing up or tracing down, it was ever the character "Ch'iang." +When he gazed again, it was still the self-same Ch'iang. + +The one inside the fence fell, in fact, from an early stage, into a +foolish mood, and no sooner was one 'Ch'iang,' finished than she started +with another; so that she had already written several tens of them. The +one outside gazed and gazed, until he unwittingly also got into the same +foolish mood. Intent with his eyes upon following the movements of the +pin, in his mind, he communed thus with his own thoughts: "This girl +must, for a certainty, have something to say, or some unspeakable +momentous secret that she goes on like this. But if outwardly she +behaves in this wise, who knows what anguish she mayn't suffer at heart? +And yet, with a frame to all appearances so very delicate, how could she +ever resist much inward anxiety! Woe is me that I'm unable to transfer +some part of her burden on to my own shoulders!" + +In midsummer, cloudy and bright weather are uncertain. A few specks of +clouds suffice to bring about rain. Of a sudden, a cold blast swept by, +and tossed about by the wind fell a shower of rain. Pao-yue perceived +that the water trickling down the girl's head saturated her gauze attire +in no time. "It's pouring," Pao-yue debated within himself, "and how can +a frame like hers resist the brunt of such a squall." Unable therefore +to restrain himself, he vehemently shouted: "Leave off writing! See, +it's pouring; you're wet through!" + +The girl caught these words, and was frightened out of her wits. Raising +her head, she at once descried some one or other standing beyond the +flowers and calling out to her: "Leave off writing. It's pouring!" But +as Pao-yue was, firstly, of handsome appearance, and as secondly the +luxuriant abundance of flowers and foliage screened with their boughs, +thick-laden with leaves, the upper and lower part of his person, just +leaving half of his countenance exposed to view, the maiden simply +jumped at the conclusion that he must be a servant girl, and never for a +moment dreamt that it might be Pao-yue. "Many thanks, sister, for +recalling me to my senses," she consequently smiled. "Yet is there +forsooth anything outside there to protect you from the rain?" + +This single remark proved sufficient to recall Pao-yue to himself. With +an exclamation of "Ai-yah," he at length became conscious that his whole +body was cold as ice. Then drooping his head, he realised that his own +person too was drenched. "This will never do," he cried, and with one +breath he had to run back into the I Hung court. His mind, however, +continued much exercised about the girl as she had nothing to shelter +her from the rain. + +As the next day was the dragon-boat festival, Wen Kuan and the other +singing girls, twelve in all, were given a holiday, so they came into +the garden and amused themselves by roaming everywhere and anywhere. As +luck would have it, the two girls Pao-Kuan, who filled the _role_ +of young men and Yue Kuan, who represented young women, were in the I +Hung court enjoying themselves with Hsi Jen, when rain set in and they +were prevented from going back, so in a body they stopped up the drain +to allow the water to accumulate in the yard. Then catching those that +could be caught, and driving those that had to be driven, they laid hold +of a few of the green-headed ducks, variegated marsh-birds and coloured +mandarin-ducks, and tying their wings they let them loose in the court +to disport themselves. Closing the court Hsi Jen and her playmates stood +together under the verandah and enjoyed the fun. Pao-yue therefore found +the entrance shut. He gave a rap at the door. But as every one inside +was bent upon laughing, they naturally did not catch the sound; and it +was only after he had called and called, and made a noise by thumping at +the door, that they at last heard. Imagining, however, that Pao-yue could +not be coming back at that hour, Hsi Jen shouted laughing: "who's it now +knocking at the door? There's no one to go and open." + +"It's I," rejoined Pao-yue. + +"It's Miss Pao-ch'ai's tone of voice," added She Yueeh. + +"Nonsense!" cried Ch'ing Wen. "What would Miss Pao-ch'ai come over to do +at such an hour?" + +"Let me go," chimed in Hsi Jen, "and see through the fissure in the +door, and if we can open, we'll open; for we mustn't let her go back, +wet through." + +With these words, she came along the passage to the doorway. On looking +out, she espied Pao-yue dripping like a chicken drenched with rain. + +Seeing him in this plight, Hsi Jen felt solicitous as well as amused. +With alacrity, she flung the door wide open, laughing so heartily that +she was doubled in two. "How could I ever have known," she said, +clapping her hands, "that you had returned, Sir! Yet how is it that +you've run back in this heavy rain?" + +Pao-yue had, however, been feeling in no happy frame of mind. He had +fully resolved within himself to administer a few kicks to the person, +who came to open the door, so as soon as it was unbarred, he did not try +to make sure who it was, but under the presumption that it was one of +the servant-girls, he raised his leg and give her a kick on the side. + +"Ai-yah!" ejaculated Hsi Jen. + +Pao-yue nevertheless went on to abuse. "You mean things!" he shouted. +"It's because I've always treated you so considerately that you don't +respect me in the least! And you now go to the length of making a +laughing-stock of me!" + +As he spoke, he lowered his head. Then catching sight of Hsi Jen, in +tears, he realised that he had kicked the wrong person. "Hallo!" he +said, promptly smiling, "is it you who've come? Where did I kick you?" + +Hsi Jen had never, previous to this, received even a harsh word from +him. When therefore she on this occasion unexpectedly saw Pao-yue gave +her a kick in a fit of anger and, what made it worse, in the presence of +so many people, shame, resentment, and bodily pain overpowered her and +she did not, in fact, for a time know where to go and hide herself. She +was then about to give rein to her displeasure, but the reflection that +Pao-yue could not have kicked her intentionally obliged her to suppress +her indignation. "Instead of kicking," she remarked, "don't you yet go +and change your clothes?" + +Pao-yue walked into the room. As he did so, he smiled. "Up to the age +I've reached," he observed, "this is the first instance on which I've +ever so thoroughly lost control over my temper as to strike any one; +and, contrary to all my thoughts, it's you that happened to come in my +way?" + +Hsi Jen, while patiently enduring the pain, effected the necessary +change in his attire. "I've been here from the very first," she +simultaneously added, smilingly, "so in all things, whether large or +small, good or bad, it has naturally fallen to my share to bear the +brunt. But not to say another word about your assault on me, why, +to-morrow you'll indulge your hand and star-beating others!" + +"I did not strike you intentionally just now," retorted Pao-yue. + +"Who ever said," rejoined Hsi Jen, "that you did it intentionally! It +has ever been the duty of that tribe of servant-girls to open and shut +the doors, yet they've got into the way of being obstinate, and have +long ago become such an abomination that people's teeth itch to revenge +themselves on them. They don't know, besides, what fear means. So had +you first assured yourself that it was they and given them a kick, a +little intimidating would have done them good. But I'm at the bottom of +the mischief that happened just now, for not calling those, upon whom it +devolves, to come and open for you." + +During the course of their conversation, the rain ceased, and Pao Kuan +and Yue Kuan had been able to take their leave. Hsi Jen, however, +experienced such intense pain in her side, and felt such inward +vexation, that at supper she could not put a morsel of anything in her +mouth. When in the evening, the time came for her to have her bath, she +discovered, on divesting herself of her clothes, a bluish bruise on her +side of the size of a saucer and she was very much frightened. But as +she could not very well say anything about it to any one, she presently +retired to rest. But twitches of pain made her involuntarily moan in her +dreams and groan in her sleep. + +Pao-yue did, it is true, not hurt her with any malice, but when he saw +Hsi Jen so listless and restless, and suddenly heard her groan in the +course of the night, he realised how severely he must have kicked her. +So getting out of bed, he gently seized the lantern and came over to +look at her. But as soon as he reached the side of her bed, he perceived +Hsi Jen expectorate, with a retch, a whole mouthful of phlegm. "Oh me!" +she gasped, as she opened her eyes. The presence of Pao-yue startled her +out of her wits. "What are you up to?" she asked. + +"You groaned in your dreams," answered Pao-yue, "so I must have kicked +you hard. Do let me see!" + +"My head feels giddy," said Hsi Jen. "My throat foul and sweet; throw +the light on the floor!" + +At these words, Pao-yue actually raised the lantern. The moment he cast +the light below, he discerned a quantity of fresh blood on the floor. + +Pao-yue was seized with consternation. "Dreadful!" was all he could say. +At the sight of the blood, Hsi Jen's heart too partly waxed cold. + +But, reader, the next chapter will reveal the sequel, if you really have +any wish to know more about them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + Pao-yue allows the girl Ch'ing Wen to tear his fan so as to afford her + amusement. + A wedding proves to be the result of the descent of a unicorn. + + +But to proceed. When she saw on the floor the blood, she had brought up, +Hsi Jen immediately grew partly cold. What she had often heard people +mention in past days 'that the lives of young people, who expectorate +blood, are uncertain, and that although they may live long, they are, +after all, mere wrecks,' flashed through her mind. The remembrance of +this saying at once completely scattered to the winds the wish, she had +all along cherished, of striving for honour and of being able to boast +of glory; and from her eyes unwittingly ran down streams of tears. + +When Pao-yue saw her crying, his heart was seized with anguish. "What's +it that preys on your mind?" he consequently asked her. + +Hsi Jen strained every nerve to smile. "There's no rhyme or reason for +anything," she replied, "so what can it be?" + +Pao-yue's intention was to there and then give orders to the servant to +warm some white wine and to ask them for a few 'Li-T'ung' pills +compounded with goat's blood, but Hsi Jen clasped his hand tight. "My +troubling you is of no matter," she smiled, "but were I to put ever so +many people to inconvenience, they'll bear me a grudge for my impudence. +Not a soul, it's clear enough, knows anything about it now, but were you +to make such a bustle as to bring it to people's notice, you'll be in an +awkward fix, and so will I. The proper thing, therefore, is for you to +send a page to-morrow to request Dr. Wang to prepare some medicine for +me. When I take this I shall be all right. And as neither any human +being nor spirit will thus get wind of it, won't it be better?" + +Pao-yue found her suggestion so full of reason that he thought himself +obliged to abandon his purpose; so approaching the table, he poured a +cup of tea, and came over and gave it to Hsi Jen to rinse her mouth +with. Aware, however, as Hsi Jen was that Pao-yue himself was not feeling +at ease in his mind, she was on the point of bidding him not wait upon +her; but convinced that he would once more be certain not to accede to +her wishes, and that the others would, in the second place, have to be +disturbed, she deemed it expedient to humour him. Leaning on the couch, +she consequently allowed Pao-yue to come and attend to her. + +As soon as the fifth watch struck, Pao-yue, unmindful of combing or +washing, hastily put on his clothes and left the room; and sending for +Wang Chi-jen, he personally questioned him with all minuteness about her +ailment. + +Wang Chi-jen asked how it had come about. "It's simply a bruise; nothing +more," (he said), and forthwith he gave him the names of some pills and +medicines, and told him how they were to be taken, and how they were to +be applied. + +Pao-yue committed every detail to memory, and on his return into the +garden, the treatment was, needless for us to explain, taken in hand in +strict compliance with the directions. + +This was the day of the dragon-boat festival. Cat-tail and artemisia +were put over the doors. Tiger charms were suspended on every back. At +noon, Madame Wang got a banquet ready, and to this midday feast, she +invited the mother, daughter and the rest of the members of the Hsueeh +household. + +Pao-yue noticed that Pao-ch'ai was in such low spirits that she would not +even speak to him, and concluded that the reason was to be sought in the +incident of the previous day. Madame Wang seeing Pao-yue in a sullen +humour jumped at the surmise that it must be due to Chin Ch'uan's affair +of the day before; and so ill at ease did she feel that she heeded him +less than ever. Lin Tai-yue, detected Pao-yue's apathy, and presumed that +he was out of sorts for having given umbrage to Pao-ch'ai, and her +manner likewise assumed a listless air. Lady Feng had, in the course of +the previous evening, been told by Madame Wang what had taken place +between Pao-yue and Chin Ch'uan, and when she came to know that Madame +Wang was in an unhappy frame of mind she herself did not venture to chat +or laugh, but at once regulated her behaviour to suit Madame Wang's +mood. So the lack of animation became more than ever perceptible; for +the good cheer of Ying Ch'un and her sisters was also damped by the +sight of all of them down in the mouth. The natural consequence +therefore was that they all left after a very short stay. + +Lin Tai-yue had a natural predilection for retirement. She did not care +for social gatherings. Her notions, however, were not entirely devoid of +reason. She maintained that people who gathered together must soon part; +that when they came together, they were full of rejoicing, but did they +not feel lonely when they broke up? That since this sense of loneliness +gave rise to chagrin, it was consequently preferable not to have any +gatherings. That flowers afforded an apt example. When they opened, they +won people's admiration; but when they faded, they added to the feeling +of vexation; so that better were it if they did not blossom at all! To +this cause therefore must be assigned the fact that when other people +were glad, she, on the contrary, felt unhappy. + +Pao-yue's disposition was such that he simply yearned for frequent +gatherings, and looked forward with sorrow to the breaking up which must +too soon come round. As for flowers, he wished them to bloom repeatedly +and was haunted with the dread of their dying in a little time. Yet +albeit manifold anguish fell to his share when banquets drew to a close +and flowers began to fade, he had no alternative but to practice +resignation. + +On this account was it that, when the company cheerlessly broke up from +the present feast, Lin Tai-yue did not mind the separation; and that +Pao-yue experienced such melancholy and depression, that, on his return +to his apartments, he gave way to deep groans and frequent sighs. + +Ch'ing Wen, as it happened, came to the upper quarters to change her +costume. In an unguarded moment, she let her fan slip out of her hand +and drop on the ground. As it fell, the bones were snapped. "You stupid +thing!" Pao-yue exclaimed, sighing, "what a dunce! what next will you be +up to by and bye? When, in a little time, you get married and have a +home of your own, will you, forsooth, still go on in this happy-go-lucky +careless sort of way?" + +"Master Secundus," replied Ch'ing Wen with a sardonic smile, "your +temper is of late dreadfully fiery, and time and again it leaks out on +your very face! The other day you even beat Hsi Jen and here you are +again now finding fault with us! If you feel disposed to kick or strike +us, you are at liberty, Sir, to do so at your pleasure; but for a fan to +slip on the ground is an everyday occurrence! How many of those crystal +jars and cornelian bowls were smashed the other time, I don't remember, +and yet you were not seen to fly into a tantrum; and now, for a fan do +you distress yourself so? What's the use of it? If you dislike us, well +pack us off and select some good girls to serve you, and we will quietly +go away. Won't this be better?" + +This rejoinder so exasperated Pao-yue that his whole frame trembled +violently. "You needn't be in a hurry!" he then shouted. "There will be +a day of parting by and bye." + +Hsi Jen was on the other side, and from an early period she listened to +the conversation between them. Hurriedly crossing over, "what are you up +to again?" she said to Pao-yue, "why, there's nothing to put your monkey +up! I'm perfectly right in my assertion that when I'm away for any +length of time, something is sure to happen." + +Ch'ing Wen heard these remarks. "Sister," she interposed smiling +ironically, "since you've got the gift of the gab, you should have come +at once; you would then have spared your master his fit of anger. It's +you who have from bygone days up to the present waited upon master; +we've never had anything to do with attending on him; and it's because +you've served him so faithfully that he repaid you yesterday with a kick +on the stomach. But who knows what punishment mayn't be in store for us, +who aren't fit to wait upon him decently!" + +At these insinuations, Hsi Jen felt both incensed and ashamed. She was +about to make some response but Pao-yue had worked himself into such +another passion as to get quite yellow in the face, and she was obliged +to rein in her temper. Pushing Ch'ing Wen, "Dear sister," she cried, +"you had better be off for a stroll! it's really we, who are to blame!" + +The very mention of the word "we" made it certain to Ch'ing Wen that she +implied herself and Pao-yue, and thus unawares more fuel was added again +to her jealous notions. Giving way to several loud smiles, full of +irony: "I can't make out," she insinuated, "who you may mean. But don't +make me blush on your account! Even those devilish pranks of yours can't +hoodwink me! How and why is it that you've started styling yourself as +'we?' Properly speaking, you haven't as yet so much as attained the +designation of 'Miss!' You're simply no better than I am, and how is it +then that you presume so high as to call yourself 'we.'" + +Hsi Jen's face grew purple from shame. "The fact is," she reflected, +"that I've said more than I should." + +"As one and all of you are ever bearing her malice," Pao-yue +simultaneously observed, "I'll actually raise her to-morrow to a higher +status!" + +Hsi Jen quickly snatched Pao-yue's hand. "She's a stupid girl," she said, +"what's the use of arguing with her? What's more, you've so far borne +with them and overlooked ever, so many other things more grievous than +this; and what are you up to to-day?" + +"If I'm really a stupid girl," repeated Ch'ing Wen, smiling +sarcastically, "am I a fit person for you to hold converse with? Why, +I'm purely and simply a slave-girl; that's all." + +"Are you, after all," cried Hsi Jen, at these words, "bickering with me, +or with Master Secundus? If you bear me a grudge, you'd better then +address your remarks to me alone; albeit it isn't right that you should +kick up such a hullaballoo in the presence of Mr. Secundus. But if you +have a spite against Mr. Secundus, you shouldn't be shouting so +boisterously as to make thousands of people know all about it! I came +in, a few minutes back, merely for the purpose of setting matters right, +and of urging you to make up your quarrels so that we should all be on +the safe side; and here I have the unlucky fate of being set upon by +you, Miss! Yet you neither seem to be angry with me, nor with Mr. +Secundus! But armed _cap-a-pie_ as you appear to be, what is your +ultimate design? I won't utter another word, but let you have your say!" + +While she spoke, she was hurriedly wending her way out. + +"You needn't raise your dander." Pao-yue remarked to Ch'ing Wen. "I've +guessed the secret of your heart, so I'll go and tell mother that as +you've also attained a certain age, she should send you away. Will this +please you, yes or no?" + +This allusion made Ch'ing Wen unwittingly feel again wounded at heart. +She tried to conceal her tears. "Why should I go away?" she asked. "If +even you be so prejudiced against me as to try and devise means to pack +me off, you won't succeed." + +"I never saw such brawling!" Pao-yue exclaimed. "You're certainly bent +upon going! I might as well therefore let mother know so as to bundle +you off!" + +While addressing her, he rose to his feet and was intent upon trudging +off at once. Hsi Jen lost no time in turning round and impeding his +progress. "Where are you off to?" she cried. + +"I'm going to tell mother," answered Pao-yue. + +"It's no use whatever!" Hsi Jen smiled, "you may be in real earnest to +go and tell her, but aren't you afraid of putting her to shame? If even +she positively means to leave, you can very well wait until you two have +got over this bad blood. And when everything is past and gone, it won't +be any too late for you to explain, in the course of conversation, the +whole case to our lady, your mother. But if you now go in hot haste and +tell her, as if the matter were an urgent one, won't you be the means of +making our mistress give way to suspicion?" + +"My mother," demurred Pao-yue, "is sure not to entertain any suspicions, +as all I will explain to her is that she insists upon leaving." + +"When did I ever insist upon going?" sobbed Ch'ing Wen. "You fly into a +rage, and then you have recourse to threats to intimidate me. But you're +at liberty to go and say anything you like; for as I'll knock my brains +out against the wall, I won't get alive out of this door." + +"This is, indeed, strange!" exclaimed Pao-yue. "If you won't go, what's +the good of all this fuss? I can't stand this bawling, so it will be a +riddance if you would get out of the way!" + +Saying this, he was resolved upon going to report the matter. Hsi Jen +found herself powerless to dissuade him. She had in consequence no other +resource but to fall on her knees. + +Pi Hen, Ch'iu Wen, She Yueeh and the rest of the waiting-maids had +realised what a serious aspect the dispute had assumed, and not a sound +was to be heard to fall from their lips. They remained standing outside +listening to what was going on. When they now overheard Hsi Jen making +solicitous entreaties on her knees, they rushed into the apartment in a +body; and with one consent they prostrated themselves on the floor. + +Pao-yue at once pulled Hsi Jen up. Then with a sigh, he took a seat on +the bed. "Get up," he shouted to the body of girls, "and clear out! What +would you have me do?" he asked, addressing himself to Hsi Jen. "This +heart of mine has been rent to pieces, and no one has any idea about +it!" + +While speaking, tears of a sudden rolled down his cheek. At the sight of +Pao-yue weeping, Hsi Jen also melted into a fit of crying. Ch'ing Wen was +standing by them, with watery eyes. She was on the point of reasoning +with them, when espying Lin Tai-yue step into the room, she speedily +walked out. + +"On a grand holiday like this," remonstrated Lin Tai-yue smiling, "how is +it that you're snivelling away, and all for nothing? Is it likely that +high words have resulted all through that 'dumpling' contest?" + +Pao-yue and Lin Tai-yue blurted out laughing. + +"You don't tell me, cousin Secundus," Lin Tai-yue put in, "but I know all +about it, even though I have asked no questions." + +Now she spoke, and now she patted Hsi Jen on the shoulder. "My dear +sister-in-law," she smiled, "just you tell me! It must surely be that +you two have had a quarrel. Confide in me, your cousin, so that I might +reconcile you." + +"Miss Lin," rejoined Hsi Jen, pushing her off, "what are you fussing +about? I am simply one of our servant-girls; you're therefore rather +erratic in your talk!" + +"You say that you're only a servant-girl," smilingly replied Tai-yue, +"and yet I treat you like a sister-in-law." + +"Why do you," Pao-yue chimed in, "give her this abusive epithet? But +however much she may make allowance for this, can she, when there are so +many others who tell idle tales on her account, put up with your coming +and telling her all you've said?" + +"Miss Lin," smiled Hsi Jen, "you're not aware of the purpose of my +heart. Unless my breath fails and I die, I shall continue in his +service." + +"If you die," remarked Lin Tai-yue smiling, "what will others do, I +wonder? As for me, I shall be the first to die from crying." + +"Were you to die," added Pao-yue laughingly, "I shall become a bonze." + +"You'd better be a little more sober-minded!" laughed Hsi Jen. "What's +the good of coming out with all these things?" + +Lin Tai-yue put out two of her fingers, and puckered up her lips. "Up to +this," she laughed, "he's become a bonze twice. Henceforward, I'll try +and remember how many times you make up your mind to become a Buddhist +priest!" + +This reminded Pao-yue that she was referring to a remark he had made on a +previous occasion, but smiling to himself, he allowed the matter to +drop. + +After a short interval, Lin Tai-yue went away. A servant then came to +announce that Mr. Hsueeh wanted to see him, and Pao-yue had to go. The +purpose of this visit was in fact to invite him to a banquet, and as he +could not very well put forward any excuse to refuse, he had to remain +till the end of the feast before he was able to take his leave. The +result was that, on his return, in the evening, he was to a great extent +under the effect of wine. With bustling step, he wended his way into his +own court. Here he perceived that the cool couch with a back to it, had +already been placed in the yard, and that there was some one asleep on +it. Prompted by the conviction that it must be Hsi Jen, Pao-yue seated +himself on the edge of the couch. As he did so, he gave her a push, and +inquired whether her sore place was any better. But thereupon he saw the +occupant turn herself round, and exclaim: "What do you come again to +irritate me for?" + +Pao-yue, at a glance, realised that it was not Hsi Jen, but Ch'ing Wen. +Pao-yue then clutched her and compelled her to sit next to him. "Your +disposition," he smiled, "has been more and more spoilt through +indulgence. When you let the fan drop this morning, I simply made one or +two remarks, and out you came with that long rigmarole. Had you gone for +me it wouldn't have mattered; but you also dragged in Hsi Jen, who only +interfered with every good intention of inducing us to make it up again. +But, ponder now, ought you to have done it; yes or no?" + +"With this intense heat," remonstrated Ch'ing Wen, "why do you pull me +and toss me about? Should any people see you, what will they think? But +this person of mine isn't meet to be seated in here." + +"Since you yourself know that it isn't meet," replied Pao-yue with a +smile, "why then were you sleeping here?" + +To this taunt Ch'ing Wen had nothing to say. But she spurted out into +fresh laughter. "It was all right," she retorted, "during your absence; +but the moment you come, it isn't meet for me to stay! Get up and let me +go and have my bath. Hsi Jen and She Yueeh have both had theirs, so I'll +call them here!" + +"I've just had again a good deal of wine," remarked Pao-yue, laughingly; +"so a wash will be good for me. And since you've not had your bath, you +had better bring the water and let's both have it together." + +"No, no!" smiled Ch'ing Wen, waving her hand, "I cannot presume to put +you to any trouble, Sir. I still remember how when Pi Hen used to look +after your bath you occupied fully two or three hours. What you were up +to during that time we never knew. We could not very well walk in. When +you had however done washing, and we entered your room, we found the +floor so covered with water that the legs of the bed were soaking and +the matting itself a regular pool. Nor could we make out what kind of +washing you'd been having; and for days afterwards we had a laugh over +it. But I've neither any time to get the water ready; nor do I see the +need for you to have a wash along with me. Besides, to-day it's chilly, +and as you've had a bath only a little while back, you can very well +just now dispense with one. But I'll draw a basin of water for you to +wash your face, and to shampoo your head with. Not long ago, Yuean Yang +sent you a few fruits; they were put in that crystal bowl, so you'd +better tell them to bring them to you to taste." + +"Well, in that case." laughed Pao-yue, "you needn't also have a bath. +Just simply wash your hands, and bring the fruit and let's have some +together." + +"I'm so shaky," smiled Ch'ing Wen "that even fans slip out of my hands, +and how could I fetch the fruit for you. Were I also to break the dish, +it will be still more dreadful!" + +"If you want to break it, break it!" smiled Pao-yue. "These things are +only intended for general use. You like this thing; I fancy that; our +respective tastes are not identical. The original use of that fan, for +instance, was to fan one's self with; but if you chose to break it for +fun, you were quite at liberty to do so. The only thing is, when you get +angry don't make it the means of giving vent to your temper! Just like +those salvers. They are really meant for serving things in. But if you +fancy that kind of sound, then deliberately smash them, that will be all +right. But don't, when you are in high dudgeon avail yourself of them to +air your resentment! That's what one would call having a fancy for a +thing!" + +Ch'ing Wen greeted his words with a smile. + +"Since that be so," she said, "bring me your fan and let me tear it. +What most takes my fancy is tearing!" + +Upon hearing this Pao-yue smilingly handed it to her. Ch'ing Wen, in +point of fact, took it over, and with a crash she rent it in two. Close +upon this, the sound of crash upon crash became audible. + +Pao-yue was standing next to her. "How nice the noise is!" he laughed. +"Tear it again and make it sound a little more!" + +But while he spoke, She Yueeh was seen to walk in. "Don't," she smiled, +"be up to so much mischief!" Pao-yue, however, went up to her and +snatching her fan also from her hand, he gave it to Ch'ing Wen. Ch'ing +Wen took it and there and then likewise broke it in two. Both he and she +then had a hearty laugh. + +"What do you call this?" She Yueeh expostulated. "Do you take my property +and make it the means of distracting yourselves!" + +"Open the fan-box," shouted Pao-yue, "and choose one and take it away! +What, are they such fine things!" + +"In that case," ventured She Yueeh, "fetch the fans and let her break as +many as she can. Won't that be nice!" + +"Go and bring them at once!" Pao-yue laughed. + +"I won't be up to any such tomfoolery!" She Yueeh demurred. "She hasn't +snapped her hands, so bid her go herself and fetch them!" + +"I'm feeling tired," interposed Ch'ing Wen, as she laughingly leant on +the bed. "I'll therefore tear some more to-morrow again." + +"An old writer says," added Pao-yue with a smile, "'that a thousand +ounces of gold cannot purchase a single laugh'! What can a few fans +cost?" + +After moralising, he went on to call Hsi Jen. Hsi Jen had just finished +the necessary change in her dress so she stepped in; and a young +servant-girl, Chiao Hui, crossed over and picked up the broken fans. +Then they all sat and enjoyed the cool breeze. But we can well dispense +with launching into any minute details. + +On the morrow, noon found Madame Wang, Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai, Lin Tai-yue, and +the rest of the young ladies congregated in dowager lady Chia's suite of +rooms. Some one then brought the news that: "Miss Shih had arrived." In +a little time they perceived Shih Hsiang-yun make her appearance in the +court, at the head of a bevy of waiting-maids and married women. +Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yu and her other cousins, quickly ran down the steps to +meet her and exchange greetings. But with what fervour girls of tender +years re-unite some day after a separation of months need not, of +course, be explained. Presently, she entered the apartments, paid her +respects and inquired how they all were. But after this conventional +interchange of salutations, old lady Chia pressed her to take off her +outer garments as the weather was so close. Shih Hsiang-yuen lost no time +in rising to her feet and loosening her clothes. "I don't see why," +Madame Wang thereupon smiled, "you wear all these things!' + +"It's entirely at aunt Secunda's bidding," retorted Shih Hsiang-yuen, +"that I put them on. Why, would any one of her own accord wear so many +things!" + +"Aunt," interposed Pao-ch'ai, who stood by, with a smile, "you're not +aware that what most delights her in the matter of dress is to don other +people's clothes! Yes, I remember how, during her stay here in the third +and fourth moons of last year, she used to wear cousin Pao's pelisses. +She even put on his shoes, and attached his frontlets as well round her +head. At a casual glance, she looked the very image of cousin Pao; what +was superfluous was that pair of earrings of hers. As she stood at the +back of that chair she so thoroughly took in our venerable ancestor that +she kept on shouting: 'Pao-yue, come over! Mind the tassels suspended on +that lamp; for if you shake the dust off, it may get into your eyes!' +But all she did was to laugh; she did not budge; and it was only after +every one found it hard to keep their countenance that our worthy senior +also started laughing. 'You do look well in male habiliments!' she said +to her." + +"What about that!" cried Lin Tai-yue, "why, she had scarcely been here +with us a couple of days in the first moon of last year, when we sent +and fetched her, that we had a fall of snow. You, venerable senior, and +her maternal aunt had on that day, I remember so well, just returned +from worshipping the images of our ancestors, and a brand-new deep red +felt wrapper of yours, dear grandmother, had been lying over there, when +suddenly it disappeared. But, lo, she it was who had put it on! Being, +however, too large and too long for her, she took a couple of +handkerchiefs, and fastened them round her waist. She was then trudging +into the back court with the servant-girls to make snow men when she +tripped and fell flat in front of the drain, and got covered all over +with mud." + +As she narrated this incident, every one recalled the circumstances to +mind, and had a good laugh. + +"Dame Chou," Pao-ch'ai smilingly inquired of nurse Chou, "is your young +lady always as fond of pranks as ever or not?" + +Nurse Chou then also gave a laugh. + +"Pranks are nothing," Ying Ch'un smiled. "What I do detest is her +fondness for tittle-tattle! I've never seen any one who, even when +asleep, goes on chatter-chatter; now laughing, and now talking, as she +does. Nor can I make out where she gets all those idle yarns of hers." + +"I think she's better of late," interposed Madame Wang. "The other day +some party or other came and they met; so she's to have a mother-in-law +very soon; and can she still be comporting herself like that!" + +"Are you going to stay to-day," dowager lady Chia then asked, "or going +back home?" + +Nurse Chou smiled. "Your venerable ladyship has not seen what an amount +of clothes we've brought," she replied. "We mean, of course, to stay a +couple of days." + +"Is cousin Pao-yue not at home?" inquired Hsiang-yuen." + +"There she's again! She doesn't think of others," remarked Pao-ch'ai +smiling significantly. "She only thinks of her cousin Pao-yue. They're +both so fond of larks! This proves that she hasn't yet got rid of that +spirit of mischief." + +"You're all now grown up," observed old lady Chia; "and you shouldn't +allude to infant names." + +But while she was chiding them, they noticed Pao-yue arrive. + +"Cousin Yuen, have you come?" he smiled. "How is it that you wouldn't +come the other day when some one was despatched to fetch you?" + +"It's only a few minutes," Madame Wang said, "since our venerable senior +called that one to task, and now here he comes and refers to names and +surnames!" + +"Your cousin Pao," ventured Lin Tai-yue, "has something good, which he +has been waiting to give you." + +"What good thing is it?" asked Hsiang-yuen. + +"Do you believe what she says?" observed Pao-yue laughingly. "But how +many days is it that I have not seen you, and you've grown so much +taller!" + +"Is cousin Hsi Jen all right?" inquired Hsiang-yuen. + +"She's all right," answered Pao-yue. "Many thanks for your kind thought +of her." + +"I've brought something nice for her," resumed Hsiang-yuen. + +Saying this, she produced her handkerchief, tied into a knot. + +"What's this something nice?" asked Pao-yue. "Wouldn't it have been +better if you'd brought her a couple of those rings with streaked stones +of the kind you sent the other day?" + +"Why, what's this?" exclaimed Hsiang-yuen laughing, opening, as she +spoke, the handkerchief. + +On close scrutiny, they actually found four streaked rings, similar to +those she had previously sent, tied up in the same packet. + +"Look here!" Lin Tai-yue smiled, "what a girl she is! Had you, when +sending that fellow the other day to bring ours, given him these also to +bring along with him, wouldn't it have saved trouble? Instead of that, +here you fussily bring them yourself to-day! I presumed that it was +something out of the way again; but is it really only these things? In +very truth, you're a mere dunce!" + +"It's you who behave like a dunce now!" Shih Hsiang-yuen smiled. + +"I'll speak out here and let every one judge for themselves who is the +dunce. The servant, deputed to bring the things to you, had no need to +open his mouth and say anything; for, as soon as they were brought in, +it was of course evident, at a glance, that they were to be presented to +you young ladies. But had he been the bearer of these things for them, I +would have been under the necessity of explaining to him which was +intended for this servant-girl, and which for that. Had the messenger +had his wits about him, well and good; but had he been at all stupid he +wouldn't have been able to remember so much as the names of the girls! +He would have made an awful mess of it, and talked a lot of nonsense. So +instead of being of any use he would have even muddled, +hickledy-pickledy, your things. Had a female servant been despatched, it +would have been all right. But as it happened, a servant-boy was again +sent the other day, so how could he have mentioned the names of the +waiting-girls? And by my bringing them in person to give them to them, +doesn't it make things clearer?" + +As she said this, she put down the four rings. "One is for sister Hsi +Jen," she continued, "one is for sister Yuean Yang. One for sister Chin +Ch'uan-erh, and one for sister P'ing Erh. They are only for these four +girls; but would the servant-boys too forsooth have remembered them so +clearly!" + +At these words, the whole company smiled. "How really clear!" they +cried. + +"This is what it is to be able to speak!" Pao-yue put in. "She doesn't +spare any one!" + +Hearing this, Lin Tai-yue gave a sardonic smile. "If she didn't know how +to use her tongue," she observed, "would she deserve to wear that +unicorn of gold!" + +While speaking, she rose and walked off. + +Luckily, every one did not hear what she said. Only Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai +pursed up her lips and laughed. Pao-yue, however, had overheard her +remark, and he blamed himself for having once more talked in a heedless +manner. Unawares his eye espied Pao-ch'ai much amused, and he too could +not suppress a smile. But at the sight of Pao-yue in laughter, Pao-ch'ai +hastily rose to her feet and withdrew. She went in search of Tai-yue, to +have a chat and laugh with her. + +"After you've had tea," old lady Chia thereupon said to Hsiang-yuen, +"you'd better rest a while and then go and see your sisters-in-law. +Besides, it's cool in the garden, so you can walk about with your +cousins." + +Hsiang-yuen expressed her assent, and, collecting the three rings, she +wrapped them up, and went and lay down to rest. Presently, she got up +with the idea of paying visits to lady Feng and her other relatives. +Followed by a whole bevy of nurses and waiting-maids, she repaired into +lady Feng's quarters on the off side. She bandied words with her for a +while and then coming out she betook herself into the garden of Broad +Vista, and called on Li Kung-ts'ai. But after a short visit, she turned +her steps towards the I Hung court to look up Hsi Jen. "You people +needn't," she said, turning her head round, "come along with me! You may +go and see your friends and relatives. It will be quite enough if you +simply leave Ts'ui Lue to wait upon me." + +Hearing her wishes, each went her own way in quest of aunts, or +sisters-in-law. There only remained but Hsiang-yuen and Ts'ui Lue. + +"How is it," inquired Ts'ui Lue, "that these lotus flowers have not yet +opened?" + +"The proper season hasn't yet arrived," rejoined Shih Hsiang-yuen. + +"They too," continued Ts'ui Lue, "resemble those in our pond; they are +double flowers." + +"These here," remarked Hsiang-yuen, "are not however up to ours." + +"They have over there," observed Ts'ui Lue, "a pomegranate tree, with +four or five branches joined one to another, just like one storey raised +above another storey. What trouble it must have cost them to rear!" + +"Flowers and plants," suggested Shih Hsiang-yuen, "are precisely like the +human race. With sufficient vitality, they grow up in a healthy +condition." + +"I can't credit these words," replied Ts'ui Lue, twisting her face round. +"If you maintain that they are like human beings, how is it that I +haven't seen any person, with one head growing over another." + +This rejoinder evoked a smile from Hsiang-yuen. "I tell you not to talk," +she cried, "but you will insist upon talking! How do you expect people +to be able to answer every thing you say! All things, whether in heaven +or on earth come into existence by the co-operation of the dual powers, +the male and female. So all things, whether good or bad, novel or +strange, and all those manifold changes and transformations arise +entirely from the favourable or adverse influence exercised by the male +and female powers. And though some things seldom seen by mankind might +come to life, the principle at work is, after all, the same." + +"In the face of these arguments," laughed Ts'ui Lue, "everything, from +old till now, from the very creation itself, embodies a certain +proportion of the Yin and Yang principles." + +"You stupid thing!" exclaimed Hsiang-yuen smiling, "the more you talk, +the more stuff and nonsense falls from your lips! What about everything +embodying a certain proportion of the principles Yin and Yang! Besides, +the two words Yin and Yang are really one word; for when the Yang +principle is exhausted, it becomes the Yin; and when the Yin is +exhausted, it becomes Yang. And it isn't that, at the exhaustion of the +Yin, another Yang comes into existence; and that, at the exhaustion of +the Yang, a second Yin arises." + +"This trash is sufficient to kill me!" ejaculated Ts'ui Lue. "What are +the Yin and Yang? Why, they are without substance or form! But pray, +Miss, tell me what sort of things these Yin and Yang can be!" + +"The Yin and Yang," explained Hsiang-yuen, "are no more than spirits, but +anything affected by their influence at once assumes form. The heavens, +for instance, are Yang, and the earth is Yin; water is Yin and fire is +Yang; the sun is Yang and the moon Yin." + +"Quite so! quite so!" cried out Ts'ui Lue, much amused by these +explanations, "I've at length attained perception! It isn't strange then +that people invariably call the sun 'T'ai-yang.' While astrologers keep +on speaking of the moon as 'T'ai-yin-hsing,' or something like it. It +must be on account of this principle." + +"O-mi-to-fu!" laughed Hsiang-yuen, "you have at last understood!" + +"All these things possess the Yin and Yang; that's all right." T'sui Lue +put in. "But is there any likelihood that all those mosquitoes, flees +and worms, flowers, herbs, bricks and tiles have, in like manner, +anything to do with the Yin and Yang?" + +"How don't they!" exclaimed Hsiang-yuen. "For example, even the leaves of +that tree are distinguished by Yin and Yang. The side, which looks up +and faces the sun, is called Yang; while that in the shade and looking +downwards, is called Yin." + +"Is it really so!" ejaculated T'sui Lue, upon hearing this; while she +smiled and nodded her head. "Now I know all about it! But which is Yang +and which Yin in these fans we're holding." + +"This side, the front, is Yang," answered Hsiang-yuen; "and that, the +reverse, is Yin." + +Ts'ui Lue went on to nod her head, and to laugh. She felt inclined to +apply her questions to several other things, but as she could not fix +her mind upon anything in particular, she, all of a sudden, drooped her +head. Catching sight of the pendant in gold, representing a unicorn, +which Hsiang-yuen had about her person, she forthwith made allusion to +it. "This, Miss," she said smiling, "cannot likely also have any Yin and +Yang!" + +"The beasts of the field and the birds of the air," proceeded +Hsiang-yuen, "are, the cock birds, Yang, and the hen birds, Yin. The +females of beasts are Yin; and the males, Yang; so how is there none?" + +"Is this male, or is this female?" inquired Ts'ui Lue. + +"Ts'ui!" exclaimed Hsiang-yuen, "what about male and female! Here you are +with your nonsense again." + +"Well, never mind about that," added Ts'ui Lue, "But how is it that all +things have Yin and Yang, and that we human beings have no Yin and no +Yang?" + +Hsiang-yuen then lowered her face. "You low-bred thing!" she exclaimed. +"But it's better for us to proceed on our way, for the more questions +you ask, the nicer they get." + +"What's there in this that you can't tell me?" asked Ts'ui Lue, "But I +know all about it, so there's no need for you to keep me on pins and +needles." + +Hsiang-yuen blurted out laughing. "What do you know?" she said. + +"That you, Miss, are Yang, and that I'm Yin," answered Ts'ui Lue. + +Hsiang-yuen produced her handkerchief, and, while screening her mouth +with it, burst out into a loud fit of laughter. + +"What I say must be right for you to laugh in this way," Ts'ui Lue +observed. + +"Perfectly right, perfectly right!" acquiesced Hsiang-yuen. + +"People say," continued Ts'ui Lue, "that masters are Yang, and that +servant-girls are Yin; don't I even apprehend this primary principle?" + +"You apprehend it thoroughly," responded Hsiang-yuen laughingly. But +while she was speaking, she espied, under the trellis with the cinnamon +roses, something glistening like gold. "Do you see that? What is it?" +Hsiang-yuen asked pointing at it. + +Hearing this, Ts'ui Lue hastily went over and picked up the object. While +scrutinising it, she observed with a smile, "Let us find out whether +it's Yin or Yang!" + +So saying, she first laid hold of the unicorn, belonging to Shih +Hsiang-yuen, and passed it under inspection. + +Shih Hsiang-yuen longed to be shown what she had picked up, but Ts'ui Lue +would not open her hand. + +"It's a precious gem," she smiled. "You mayn't see it, Miss. Where can +it be from? How very strange it is! I've never seen any one in here with +anything of the kind." + +"Give it to me and let me look at it," retorted Hsiang-yuen. + +Ts'ui Lue stretched out her hand with a dash. "Yes, Miss, please look at +it!" she laughed. + +Hsiang-yuen raised her eyes. She perceived, at a glance, that it was a +golden unicorn, so beautiful and so bright; and so much larger and +handsomer than the one she had on. Hsiang-yuen put out her arm and, +taking the gem in the palm of her hand, she fell into a silent reverie +and uttered not a word. She was quite absent-minded when suddenly Pao-yue +appeared in the opposite direction. + +"What are you two," he asked smiling, "doing here in the sun? How is it +you don't go and find Hsi Jen?" + +Shih Hsiang-yuen precipitately concealed the unicorn. "We were just +going," she replied, "so let us all go together." + +Conversing, they, in a company, wended their steps into the I Hung +court. Hsi Jen was leaning on the balustrade at the bottom of the steps, +her face turned to the breeze. Upon unexpectedly seeing Hsiang-yuen +arrive she with alacrity rushed down to greet her; and taking her hand +in hers, they cheerfully canvassed the events that had transpired during +their separation, while they entered the room and took a seat. + +"You should have come earlier," Pao-yue said. "I've got something nice +and was only waiting for you." + +Saying this, he searched and searched about his person. After a long +interval, "Ai-ya!" he ejaculated. "Have you perchance put that thing +away?" he eagerly asked Hsi Jen. + +"What thing?" inquired Hsi Jen. + +"The unicorn," explained Pao-yue, "I got the other day." + +"You've daily worn it about you, and how is it you ask me?" remarked Hsi +Jen. + +As soon as her answer fell on his ear, Pao-yue clapped his hands. "I've +lost it!" he cried. "Where can I go and look for it!" There and then, he +meant to go and search in person; but Shih Hsiang-yuen heard his +inquiries, and concluded that it must be he who had lost the gem. "When +did you too," she promptly smiled, "get a unicorn?" + +"I got it the other day, after ever so much trouble;" rejoined Pao-yue, +"but I can't make out when I can have lost it! I've also become quite +addle-headed." + +"Fortunately," smiled Shih Hsiang-yuen, "it's only a sort of a toy! +Still, are you so careless?" While speaking, she flung open her hand. +"Just see," she laughed, "is it this or not?" + +As soon as he saw it, Pao-yue was seized with unwonted delight. But, +reader, if you care to know the cause of his delight, peruse the +explanation contained in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + Hsi Jen and Hsiang-yuen tell their secret thoughts. + Tai-yue is infatuated with the living Pao-yue. + + +While trying to conceal her sense of shame and injury Chin Ch'uan is +driven by her impetuous feelings to seek death. + +But to resume our narrative. At the sight of the unicorn, Pao-yue was +filled with intense delight. So much so, that he forthwith put out his +hand and made a grab for it. "Lucky enough it was you who picked it up!" +he said, with a face beaming with smiles. "But when did you find it?" + +"Fortunately it was only this!" rejoined Shih Hsiang-yuen laughing. "If +you by and bye also lose your seal, will you likely banish it at once +from your mind, and never make an effort to discover it?" + +"After all," smiled Pao-yue, "the loss of a seal is an ordinary +occurrence. But had I lost this, I would have deserved to die." + +Hsi Jen then poured a cup of tea and handed it to Shih Hsiang-yuen. "Miss +Senior," she remarked smilingly, "I heard that you had occasion the +other day to be highly pleased." + +Shih Hsiang-yuen flushed crimson. She went on drinking her tea and did +not utter a single word. + +"Here you are again full of shame!" Hsi Jen smiled. "But do you remember +when we were living, about ten years back, in those warm rooms on the +west side and you confided in me one evening, you didn't feel any shame +then; and how is it you blush like this now?" + +"Do you still speak about that!" exclaimed Shih Hsiang-yuen laughingly. +"You and I were then great friends. But when our mother subsequently +died and I went home for a while, how is it you were at once sent to be +with my cousin Secundus, and that now that I've come back you don't +treat me as you did once?" + +"Are you yet harping on this!" retorted Hsi Jen, putting on a smile. +"Why, at first, you used to coax me with a lot of endearing terms to +comb your hair and to wash your face, to do this and that for you. But +now that you've become a big girl, you assume the manner of a young +mistress towards me, and as you put on these airs of a young mistress, +how can I ever presume to be on a familiar footing with you?" + +"O-mi-to-fu," cried Shih Hsiang-yuen. "What a false accusation! If I be +guilty of anything of the kind, may I at once die! Just see what a +broiling hot day this is, and yet as soon as I arrived I felt bound to +come and look you up first. If you don't believe me, well, ask Lue Erh! +And while at home, when did I not at every instant say something about +you?" + +Scarcely had she concluded than Hsi Jen and Pao-yue tried to soothe her. +"We were only joking," they said, "but you've taken everything again as +gospel. What! are you still so impetuous in your temperament!" + +"You don't say," argued Shih Hsiang-yuen, "that your words are hard +things to swallow, but contrariwise, call people's temperaments +impetuous!" + +As she spoke, she unfolded her handkerchief and, producing a ring, she +gave it to Hsi Jen. + +Hsi Jen did not know how to thank her enough. "When;" she consequently +smiled, "you sent those to your cousin the other day, I got one also; +and here you yourself bring me another to-day! It's clear enough +therefore that you haven't forgotten me. This alone has been quite +enough to test you. As for the ring itself, what is its worth? but it's +a token of the sincerity of your heart!" + +"Who gave it to you?" inquired Shih Hsiang-yuen. + +"Miss Pao let me have it." replied Hsi Jen. + +"I was under the impression," remarked Hsiang-yuen with a sigh, "that it +was a present from cousin Lin. But is it really cousin Pao, that gave it +to you! When I was at home, I day after day found myself reflecting that +among all these cousins of mine, there wasn't one able to compare with +cousin Pao, so excellent is she. How I do regret that we are not the +offspring of one mother! For could I boast of such a sister of the same +flesh and blood as myself, it wouldn't matter though I had lost both +father and mother!" + +While indulging in these regrets, her eyes got quite red. + +"Never mind! never mind!" interposed Pao-yue. "Why need you speak of +these things!" + +"If I do allude to this," answered Shih Hsiang-yuen, "what does it +matter? I know that weak point of yours. You're in fear and trembling +lest your cousin Lin should come to hear what I say, and get angry with +me again for eulogising cousin Pao! Now isn't it this, eh!" + +"Ch'ih!" laughed Hsi Jen, who was standing by her. "Miss Yuen," she said, +"now that you've grown up to be a big girl you've become more than ever +openhearted and outspoken." + +"When I contend;" smiled Pao-yue, "that it is difficult to say a word to +any one of you I'm indeed perfectly correct!" + +"My dear cousin," observed Shih Hsiang-yuen laughingly, "don't go on in +that strain! You'll provoke me to displeasure. When you are with me all +you are good for is to talk and talk away; but were you to catch a +glimpse of cousin Lin, you would once more be quite at a loss to know +what best to do!" + +"Now, enough of your jokes!" urged Hsi Jen. "I have a favour to crave of +you." + +"What is it?" vehemently inquired Shih Hsiang-yuen. + +"I've got a pair of shoes," answered Hsi Jen, "for which I've stuck the +padding together; but I'm not feeling up to the mark these last few +days, so I haven't been able to work at them. If you have any leisure, +do finish them for me." + +"This is indeed strange!" exclaimed Shih Hsiang-yuen. "Putting aside all +the skilful workers engaged in your household, you have besides some +people for doing needlework and others for tailoring and cutting; and +how is it you appeal to me to take your shoes in hand? Were you to ask +any one of those men to execute your work, who could very well refuse to +do it?" + +"Here you are in another stupid mood!" laughed Hsi Jen. "Can it be that +you don't know that our sewing in these quarters mayn't be done by these +needleworkers." + +At this reply, it at once dawned upon Shih Hsiang-yuen that the shoes +must be intended for Pao-yue. "Since that be the case," she in +consequence smiled; "I'll work them for you. There's however one thing. +I'll readily attend to any of yours, but I will have nothing to do with +any for other people." + +"There you are again!" laughed Hsi Jen. "Who am I to venture to trouble +you to make shoes for me? I'll tell you plainly, however, that they are +not mine. But no matter whose they are, it is anyhow I who'll be the +recipient of your favour; that is sufficient." + +"To speak the truth," rejoined Shih Hsiang-yuen, "you've put me to the +trouble of working, I don't know how many things for you. The reason why +I refuse on this occasion should be quite evident to you!" + +"I can't nevertheless make it out!" answered Hsi Jen. + +"I heard the other day," continued Shih Hsiang-yuen, a sardonic smile on +her lip, "that while the fan-case, I had worked, was being held and +compared with that of some one else, it too was slashed away in a fit of +high dudgeon. This reached my ears long ago, and do you still try to +dupe me by asking me again now to make something more for you? Have I +really become a slave to you people? + +"As to what occurred the other day," hastily explained Pao-yue smiling, +"I positively had no idea that that thing was your handiwork." + +"He never knew that you'd done it," Hsi Jen also laughed. "I deceived +him by telling him that there had been of late some capital hands at +needlework outside, who could execute any embroidery with surpassing +beauty, and that I had asked them to bring a fan-case so as to try them +and to see whether they could actually work well or not. He at once +believed what I said. But as he produced the case and gave it to this +one and that one to look at, he somehow or other, I don't know how, +managed again to put some one's back up, and she cut it into two. On his +return, however, he bade me hurry the men to make another; and when at +length I explained to him that it had been worked by you, he felt, I +can't tell you, what keen regret!" + +"This is getting stranger and stranger!" said Shih Hsiang-yuen. "It +wasn't worth the while for Miss Lin to lose her temper about it. But as +she plies the scissors so admirably, why, you might as well tell her to +finish the shoes for you." + +"She couldn't," replied Hsi Jen, "for besides other things our venerable +lady is still in fear and trembling lest she should tire herself in any +way. The doctor likewise says that she will continue to enjoy good +health, so long as she is carefully looked after; so who would wish to +ask her to take them in hand? Last year she managed to just get through +a scented bag, after a whole year's work. But here we've already reached +the middle of the present year, and she hasn't yet taken up any needle +or thread!" + +In the course of their conversation, a servant came and announced 'that +the gentleman who lived in the Hsing Lung Street had come.' "Our +master," he added, "bids you, Mr. Secundus, come out and greet him." + +As soon as Pao-yue heard this announcement, he knew that Chia Yue-ts'un +must have arrived. But he felt very unhappy at heart. Hsi Jen hurried to +go and bring his clothes. Pao-yue, meanwhile, put on his boots, but as he +did so, he gave way to resentment. "Why there's father," he +soliloquised, "to sit with him; that should be enough; and must he, on +every visit he pays, insist upon seeing me!" + +"It is, of course, because you have such a knack for receiving and +entertaining visitors that Mr. Chia Cheng will have you go out," +laughingly interposed Shih Hsiang-yuen from one side, as she waved her +fan. + +"Is it father's doing?" Pao-yue rejoined. "Why, it's he himself who asks +that I should be sent for to see him." + +"'When a host is courteous, visitors come often,'" smiled Hsiang-yuen, +"so it's surely because you possess certain qualities, which have won +his regard, that he insists upon seeing you." + +"But I am not what one would call courteous," demurred Pao-yue. "I am, of +all coarse people, the coarsest. Besides, I do not choose to have any +relations with such people as himself." + +"Here's again that unchangeable temperament of yours!" laughed +Hsiang-yuen. "But you're a big fellow now, and you should at least, if +you be loth to study and go and pass your examinations for a provincial +graduate or a metropolitan graduate, have frequent intercourse with +officers and ministers of state and discuss those varied attainments, +which one acquires in an official career, so that you also may be able +in time to have some idea about matters in general; and that when by and +bye you've made friends, they may not see you spending the whole day +long in doing nothing than loafing in our midst, up to every imaginable +mischief." + +"Miss," exclaimed Pao-yue, after this harangue, "pray go and sit in some +other girl's room, for mind one like myself may contaminate a person who +knows so much of attainments and experience as you do." + +"Miss," ventured Hsi Jen, "drop this at once! Last time Miss Pao too +tendered him this advice, but without troubling himself as to whether +people would feel uneasy or not, he simply came out with an ejaculation +of 'hai,' and rushed out of the place. Miss Pao hadn't meanwhile +concluded her say, so when she saw him fly, she got so full of shame +that, flushing scarlet, she could neither open her lips, nor hold her +own counsel. But lucky for him it was only Miss Pao. Had it been Miss +Lin, there's no saying what row there may not have been again, and what +tears may not have been shed! Yet the very mention of all she had to +tell him is enough to make people look up to Miss Pao with respect. But +after a time, she also betook herself away. I then felt very unhappy as +I imagined that she was angry; but contrary to all my expectations, she +was by and bye just the same as ever. She is, in very truth, +long-suffering and indulgent! This other party contrariwise became quite +distant to her, little though one would have thought it of him; and as +Miss Pao perceived that he had lost his temper, and didn't choose to +heed her, she subsequently made I don't know how many apologies to him." + +"Did Miss Lin ever talk such trash!" exclaimed Pao-yue. "Had she ever +talked such stuff and nonsense, I would have long ago become chilled +towards her." + +"What you say is all trash!" Hsi Jen and Hsiang-yuen remarked with one +voice, while they shook their heads to and fro and smiled. + +Lin Tai-yue, the fact is, was well aware that now that Shih Hsiang-yuen +was staying in the mansion, Pao-yue too was certain to hasten to come and +tell her all about the unicorn he had got, so she thought to herself: +"In the foreign traditions and wild stories, introduced here of late by +Pao-yue, literary persons and pretty girls are, for the most part, +brought together in marriage, through the agency of some trifling but +ingenious nick-nack. These people either have miniature ducks, or +phoenixes, jade necklets or gold pendants, fine handkerchiefs or elegant +sashes; and they have, through the instrumentality of such trivial +objects, invariably succeeded in accomplishing the wishes they +entertained throughout their lives." When she recently discovered, by +some unforeseen way, that Pao-yue had likewise a unicorn she began to +apprehend lest he should make this circumstance a pretext to create an +estrangement with her, and indulge with Shih Hsiang-yuen as well in +various free and easy flirtations and fine doings. She therefore quietly +crossed over to watch her opportunity and take such action as would +enable her to get an insight into his and her sentiments. Contrary, +however, to all her calculations, no sooner did she reach her +destination, than she overheard Shih Hsiang-yuen dilate on the topic of +experience, and Pao-yue go on to observe: "Cousin Lin has never indulged +in such stuff and nonsense. Had she ever uttered any such trash, I would +have become chilled even towards her!" This language suddenly produced, +in Lin Tai-yue's mind, both surprise as well as delight; sadness as well +as regret. Delight, at having indeed been so correct in her perception +that he whom she had ever considered in the light of a true friend had +actually turned out to be a true friend. Surprise, "because," she said +to herself: "he has, in the presence of so many witnesses, displayed +such partiality as to speak in my praise, and has shown such affection +and friendliness for me as to make no attempt whatever to shirk +suspicion." Regret, "for since," (she pondered), "you are my intimate +friend, you could certainly well look upon me too as your intimate +friend; and if you and I be real friends, why need there be any more +talk about gold and jade? But since there be that question of gold and +jade, you and I should have such things in our possession. Yet, why +should this Pao-ch'ai step in again between us?" Sad, "because," (she +reflected), "my father and mother departed life at an early period; and +because I have, in spite of the secret engraven on my heart and +imprinted on my bones, not a soul to act as a mentor to me. Besides, of +late, I continuously feel confusion creep over my mind, so my disease +must already have gradually developed itself. The doctors further state +that my breath is weak and my blood poor, and that they dread lest +consumption should declare itself, so despite that sincere friendship I +foster for you, I cannot, I fear, last for very long. You are, I admit, +a true friend to me, but what can you do for my unfortunate destiny!" + +Upon reaching this point in her reflections, she could not control her +tears, and they rolled freely down her cheeks. So much so, that when +about to enter and meet her cousins, she experienced such utter lack of +zest, that, while drying her tears she turned round, and wended her +steps back in the direction of her apartments. + +Pao-yue, meanwhile, had hurriedly got into his new costume. Upon coming +out of doors, he caught sight of Lin Tai-yue, walking quietly ahead of +him engaged, to all appearances, in wiping tears from her eyes. With +rapid stride, he overtook her. + +"Cousin Lin," he smiled, "where are you off to? How is it that you're +crying again? Who has once more hurt your feelings?" + +Lin Tai-yue turned her head round to look; and seeing that it was Pao-yue, +she at once forced a smile. "Why should I be crying," she replied, "when +there is no reason to do so?" + +"Look here!" observed Pao-yue smilingly. "The tears in your eyes are not +dry yet and do you still tell me a fib?" + +Saying this, he could not check an impulse to raise his arm and wipe her +eyes, but Lin Tai-yue speedily withdrew several steps backwards. "Are you +again bent," she said, "upon compassing your own death! Then why do you +knock your hands and kick your feet about in this wise?" + +"While intent upon speaking, I forgot," smiled Pao-yue, "all about +propriety and gesticulated, yet quite inadvertently. But what care I +whether I die or live!" + +"To die would, after all" added Lin Tai-yue, "be for you of no matter; +but you'll leave behind some gold or other, and a unicorn too or other; +and what would they do?" + +This insinuation was enough to plunge Pao-yue into a fresh fit of +exasperation. Hastening up to her: "Do you still give vent to such +language?" he asked. "Why, it's really tantamount to invoking +imprecations on me! What, are you yet angry with me!" + +This question recalled to Lin Tai-yue's mind the incidents of a few days +back, and a pang of remorse immediately gnawed her heart for having been +again so indiscreet in her speech. "Now don't you distress your mind!" +she observed hastily, smiling. "I verily said what I shouldn't! Yet what +is there in this to make your veins protrude, and to so provoke you as +to bedew your whole face with perspiration?" + +While reasoning with him, she felt unable to repress herself, and, +approaching him, she extended her hand, and wiped the perspiration from +his face. + +Pao-yue gazed intently at her for a long time. "Do set your mind at +ease!" he at length observed. + +At this remark, Lin Tai-yue felt quite nervous. "What's there to make my +mind uneasy?" she asked after a protracted interval. "I can't make out +what you're driving at; tell me what's this about making me easy or +uneasy?" + +Pao-yue heaved a sigh. "Don't you truly fathom the depth of my words?" he +inquired. "Why, do you mean to say that I've throughout made such poor +use of my love for you as not to be able to even divine your feelings? +Well, if so, it's no wonder that you daily lose your temper on my +account!" + +"I actually don't understand what you mean by easy or uneasy," Lin +Tai-yue replied. + +"My dear girl," urged Pao-yue, nodding and sighing. "Don't be making a +fool of me! For if you can't make out these words, not only have I ever +uselessly lavished affection upon you, but the regard, with which you +have always treated me, has likewise been entirely of no avail! And it's +mostly because you won't set your mind at ease that your whole frame is +riddled with disease. Had you taken things easier a bit, this ailment of +yours too wouldn't have grown worse from day to day!" + +These words made Lin Tai-yue feel as if she had been blasted by thunder, +or struck by lightning. But after carefully weighing them within +herself, they seemed to her far more fervent than any that might have +emanated from the depths of her own heart, and thousands of sentiments, +in fact, thronged together in her mind; but though she had every wish to +frame them into language, she found it a hard task to pronounce so much +as half a word. All she therefore did was to gaze at him with vacant +stare. + +Pao-yue fostered innumerable thoughts within himself, but unable in a +moment to resolve from which particular one to begin, he too absently +looked at Tai-yue. Thus it was that the two cousins remained for a long +time under the spell of a deep reverie. + +An ejaculation of "Hai!" was the only sound that issued from Lin +Tai-yue's lips; and while tears streamed suddenly from her eyes, she +turned herself round and started on her way homeward. + +Pao-yue jumped forward, with alacrity, and dragged her back. "My dear +cousin," he pleaded, "do stop a bit! Let me tell you just one thing; +after that, you may go." + +"What can you have to tell me?" exclaimed Lin Tai-yue, who while wiping +her tears, extricated her hand from his grasp. "I know." she cried, "all +you have to say." + +As she spoke, she went away, without even turning her head to cast a +glance behind her. + +As Pao-yue gazed at her receding figure, he fell into abstraction. + +He had, in fact, quitted his apartments a few moments back in such +precipitate hurry that he had omitted to take a fan with him: and Hsi +Jen, fearing lest he might suffer from the heat, promptly seized one and +ran to find him and give it to him. But upon casually raising her head, +she espied Lin Tai-yue standing with him. After a time, Tai-yue walked +away; and as he still remained where he was without budging, she +approached him. + +"You left," she said, "without even taking a fan with you. Happily I +noticed it, and so hurried to catch you up and bring it to you." + +But Pao-yue was so lost in thought that as soon as he caught Hsi Jen's +voice, he made a dash and clasped her in his embrace, without so much as +trying to make sure who she was. + +"My dear cousin," he cried, "I couldn't hitherto muster enough courage +to disclose the secrets of my heart; but on this occasion I shall make +bold and give utterance to them. For you I'm quite ready to even pay the +penalty of death. I have too for your sake brought ailments upon my +whole frame. It's in here! But I haven't ventured to breathe it to any +one. My only alternative has been to bear it patiently, in the hope that +when you got all right, I might then perchance also recover. But whether +I sleep, or whether I dream, I never, never forget you." + +These declarations quite dumfoundered Hsi Jen. She gave way to incessant +apprehensions. All she could do was to shout out: "Oh spirits, oh +heaven, oh Buddha, he's compassing my death!" Then pushing him away from +her, "what is it you're saying?" she asked. "May it be that you are +possessed by some evil spirit! Don't you quick get yourself off?" + +This brought Pao-yue to his senses at once. He then became aware that it +was Hsi Jen, and that she had come to bring him a fan. Pao-yue was +overpowered with shame; his whole face was suffused with scarlet; and, +snatching the fan out of her hands, he bolted away with rapid stride. + +When Hsi Jen meanwhile saw Pao-yue effect his escape, "Lin Tai-yue," she +pondered, "must surely be at the bottom of all he said just now. But +from what one can see, it will be difficult, in the future, to obviate +the occurrence of some unpleasant mishap. It's sufficient to fill one +with fear and trembling!" + +At this point in her cogitations, she involuntarily melted into tears, +so agitated was she; while she secretly exercised her mind how best to +act so as to prevent this dreadful calamity. + +But while she was lost in this maze of surmises and doubts, Pao-ch'ai +unexpectedly appeared from the off side. "What!" she smilingly +exclaimed, "are you dreaming away in a hot broiling sun like this?" + +Hsi Jen, at this question, hastily returned her smiles. "Those two +birds," she answered, "were having a fight, and such fun was it that I +stopped to watch them." + +"Where is cousin Pao off to now in such a hurry, got up in that fine +attire?" asked Pao-ch'ai, "I just caught sight of him, as he went by. I +meant to have called out and stopped him, but as he, of late, talks +greater rubbish than ever, I didn't challenge him, but let him go past." + +"Our master," rejoined Hsi Jen, "sent for him to go out." + +"Ai-yah!" hastily exclaimed Pao-ch'ai, as soon as this remark reached +her ears. "What does he want him for, on a scalding day like this? Might +he not have thought of something and got so angry about it as to send +for him to give him a lecture!" + +"If it isn't this," added Hsi Jen laughing, "some visitor must, I +presume, have come and he wishes him to meet him." + +"With weather like this," smiled Pao-ch'ai, "even visitors afford no +amusement! Why don't they, while this fiery temperature lasts, stay at +home, where it's much cooler, instead of gadding about all over the +place?" + +"Could you tell them so?" smiled Hsi Jen. + +"What was that girl Hsiang-yuen doing in your quarters?" Pao-ch'ai then +asked. + +"She only came to chat with us on irrelevant matters." Hsi Jen replied +smiling. "But did you see the pair of shoes I was pasting the other day? +Well, I meant to ask her to-morrow to finish them for me." + +Pao-chai, at these words, turned her head round, first on this side, and +then on the other. Seeing that there was no one coming or going: "How is +it," she smiled, "that you, who have so much gumption, don't ever show +any respect for people's feelings? I've been of late keeping an eye on +Miss Yuen's manner, and, from what I can glean from the various rumours +afloat, she can't be, in the slightest degree, her own mistress at home! +In that family of theirs, so little can they stand the burden of any +heavy expenses that they don't employ any needlework-people, and +ordinary everyday things are mostly attended to by their ladies +themselves. (If not), why is it that every time she has come to us on a +visit, and she and I have had a chat, she at once broached the subject +of their being in great difficulties at home, the moment she perceived +that there was no one present? Yet, whenever I went on to ask her a few +questions about their usual way of living, her very eyes grew red, while +she made some indistinct reply; but as for speaking out, she wouldn't. +But when I consider the circumstances in which she is placed, for she +has certainly had the misfortune of being left, from her very infancy, +without father and mother, the very sight of her is too much for me, and +my heart begins to bleed within me." + +"Quite so! Quite so!" observed Hsi Jen, clapping her hands, after +listening to her throughout. "It isn't strange then if she let me have +the ten butterfly knots I asked her to tie for me only after ever so +many days, and if she said that they were coarsely done, but that I +should make the best of them and use them elsewhere, and that if I +wanted any nice ones, I should wait until by and bye when she came to +stay here, when she would work some neatly for me. What you've told me +now reminds me that, as she had found it difficult to find an excuse +when we appealed to her, she must have had to slave away, who knows how +much, till the third watch in the middle of the night. What a stupid +thing I was! Had I known this sooner, I would never have told her a word +about it." + +"Last time;" continued Pao-ch'ai, "she told me that when she was at home +she had ample to do, that she kept busy as late as the third watch, and +that, if she did the slightest stitch of work for any other people, the +various ladies, belonging to her family, did not like it." + +"But as it happens," explained Hsi Jen, "that mulish-minded and +perverse-tempered young master of ours won't allow the least bit of +needlework, no matter whether small or large, to be made by those +persons employed to do sewing in the household. And as for me, I have no +time to turn my attention to all these things." + +"Why mind him?" laughed Pao-ch'ai. "Simply ask some one to do the work +and finish." + +"How could one bamboozle him?" resumed Hsi Jen. "Why, he'll promptly +find out everything. Such a thing can't even be suggested. The only +thing I can do is to quietly slave away, that's all." + +"You shouldn't work so hard," smiled Pao-ch'ai. "What do you say to my +doing a few things for you?" + +"Are you in real earnest!" ventured Hsi Jen smiling. "Well, in that +case, it is indeed a piece of good fortune for me! I'll come over myself +in the evening." + +But before she could conclude her reply, she of a sudden noticed an old +matron come up to her with precipitate step. "Where does the report come +from," she interposed, "that Miss Chin Ch'uan-erh has gone, for no rhyme +or reason, and committed suicide by jumping into the well?" + +This bit of news startled Hsi Jen. "Which Chin Ch'uan-erh is it," she +speedily inquired. + +"Where are two Chin Ch'uan-erhs to be found!" rejoined the old matron. +"It's the one in our Mistress,' Madame Wang's, apartments, who was the +other day sent away for something or other, I don't know what. On her +return home, she raised her groans to the skies and shed profuse tears, +but none of them worried their minds about her, until, who'd have +thought it, they could see nothing of her. A servant, however, went just +now to draw water and he says that 'while he was getting it from the +well in the south-east corner, he caught sight of a dead body, that he +hurriedly called men to his help, and that when they fished it out, they +unexpectedly found that it was she, but that though they bustled about +trying to bring her round, everything proved of no avail'" + +"This is odd!" Pao-ch'ai exclaimed. + +The moment Hsi Jen heard the tidings, she shook her head and moaned. At +the remembrance of the friendship, which had ever existed between them, +tears suddenly trickled down her cheeks. And as for Pao-ch'ai, she +listened to the account of the accident and then hastened to Madame +Wang's quarters to try and afford her consolation. + +Hsi Jen, during this interval, returned to her room. But we will leave +her without further notice, and explain that when Pao-ch'ai reached the +interior of Madame Wang's home, she found everything plunged in perfect +stillness. Madame Wang was seated all alone in the inner chamber +indulging her sorrow. But such difficulties did Pao-ch'ai experience to +allude to the occurrence, that her only alternative was to take a seat +next to her. + +"Where do you come from?" asked Madame Wang. + +"I come from inside the garden," answered Pao-ch'ai. + +"As you come from the garden," Madame Wang inquired, "did you see +anything of your cousin Pao-yue?" + +"I saw him just now," Pao-ch'ai replied, "go out, dressed up in his +fineries. But where he is gone to, I don't know." + +"Have you perchance heard of any strange occurrence?" asked Madame Wang, +while she nodded her head and sighed. "Why, Chin Ch'uan Erh jumped into +the well and committed suicide." + +"How is it that she jumped into the well when there was nothing to make +her do so?" Pao-ch'ai inquired. "This is indeed a remarkable thing!" + +"The fact is," proceeded Madame Wang, "that she spoilt something the +other day, and in a sudden fit of temper, I gave her a slap and sent her +away, simply meaning to be angry with her for a few days and then bring +her in again. But, who could have ever imagined that she had such a +resentful temperament as to go and drown herself in a well! And is not +this all my fault?" + +"It's because you are such a kind-hearted person, aunt," smiled +Pao-ch'ai, "that such ideas cross your mind! But she didn't jump into +the well when she was in a tantrum; so what must have made her do so was +that she had to go and live in the lower quarters. Or, she might have +been standing in front of the well, and her foot slipped, and she fell +into it. While in the upper rooms, she used to be kept under restraint, +so when this time she found herself outside, she must, of course, have +felt the wish to go strolling all over the place in search of fun. How +could she have ever had such a fiery disposition? But even admitting +that she had such a temper, she was, after all, a stupid girl to do as +she did; and she doesn't deserve any pity." + +"In spite of what you say," sighed Madame Wang, shaking her head to and +fro, "I really feel unhappy at heart." + +"You shouldn't, aunt, distress your mind about it!" Pao-ch'ai smiled. +"Yet, if you feel very much exercised, just give her a few more taels +than you would otherwise have done, and let her be buried. You'll thus +carry out to the full the feelings of a mistress towards her servant." + +"I just now gave them fifty taels for her," pursued Madame Wang. "I also +meant to let them have some of your cousin's new clothes to enshroud her +in. But, who'd have thought it, none of the girls had, strange +coincidence, any newly-made articles of clothing; and there were only +that couple of birthday suits of your cousin Lin's. But as your cousin +Lin has ever been such a sensitive child and has always too suffered and +ailed, I thought it would be unpropitious for her, if her clothes were +also now handed to people to wrap their dead in, after she had been told +that they were given her for her birthday. So I ordered a tailor to get +a suit for her as soon as possible. Had it been any other servant-girl, +I could have given her a few taels and have finished. But Chin +Ch'uan-erh was, albeit a servant-maid, nearly as dear to me as if she +had been a daughter of mine." + +Saying this, tears unwittingly ran down from her eyes. + +"Aunt!" vehemently exclaimed Pao-ch'ai. "What earthly use is it of +hurrying a tailor just now to prepare clothes for her? I have a couple +of suits I made the other day and won't it save trouble were I to go and +bring them for her? Besides, when she was alive, she used to wear my old +clothes. And what's more our figures are much alike." + +"What you say is all very well," rejoined Madame Wang; "but can it be +that it isn't distasteful to you?" + +"Compose your mind," urged Pao-ch'ai with a smile. "I have never paid +any heed to such things." + +As she spoke, she rose to her feet and walked away. + +Madame Wang then promptly called two servants. "Go and accompany Miss +Pao!" she said. + +In a brief space of time, Pao-ch'ai came back with the clothes, and +discovered Pao-yue seated next to Madame Wang, all melted in tears. +Madame Wang was reasoning with him. At the sight of Pao-ch'ai, she, at +once, desisted. When Pao-ch'ai saw them go on in this way, and came to +weigh their conversation and to scan the expression on their +countenances, she immediately got a pretty correct insight into their +feelings. But presently she handed over the clothes, and Madame Wang +sent for Chin Ch'uan-erh's mother, to take them away. + +But, reader, you will have to peruse the next chapter for further +details. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + A brother is prompted by ill-feeling to wag his tongue a bit. + A depraved son receives heavy blows with a rattan cane. + + +Madame Wang, for we shall now continue our story, sent for Chin +Ch'uan-erh's mother. On her arrival, she gave her several hair-pins and +rings, and then told her that she could invite several Buddhist priests +as well to read the prayers necessary to release the spirit from +purgatory. The mother prostrated herself and expressed her gratitude; +after which, she took her leave. + +Indeed, Pao-yue, on his return from entertaining Yue-ts'un, heard the +tidings that Chin Ch'uan-erh had been instigated by a sense of shame to +take her own life and he at once fell a prey to grief. So much so, that, +when he came inside, and was again spoken to and admonished by Madame +Wang, he could not utter a single word in his justification. But as soon +as he perceived Pao-ch'ai make her appearance in the room, he seized the +opportunity to scamper out in precipitate haste. Whither he was +trudging, he himself had not the least idea. But throwing his hands +behind his back and drooping his head against his chest, he gave way to +sighs, while with slow and listless step he turned towards the hall. +Scarcely, however, had he rounded the screen-wall, which stood in front +of the door-way, when, by a strange coincidence, he ran straight into +the arms of some one, who was unawares approaching from the opposite +direction, and was just about to go towards the inner portion of the +compound. + +"Hallo!" that person was heard to cry out, as he stood still. + +Pao-yue sustained a dreadful start. Raising his face to see, he +discovered that it was no other than his father. At once, he +unconsciously drew a long breath and adopted the only safe course of +dropping his arms against his body and standing on one side. + +"Why are you," exclaimed Chia Cheng, "drooping your head in such a +melancholy mood, and indulging in all these moans? When Yue-ts'un came +just now and he asked to see you, you only put in your appearance after +a long while. But though you did come, you were not in the least +disposed to chat with anything like cheerfulness and animation; you +behaved, as you ever do, like a regular fool. I detected then in your +countenance a certain expression of some hidden hankering and sadness; +and now again here you are groaning and sighing! Does all you have not +suffice to please you? Are you still dissatisfied? You've no reason to +be like this, so why is it that you go on in this way?" + +Pao-yue had ever, it is true, shown a glib tongue, but on the present +occasion he was so deeply affected by Chin Ch'uan-erh's fate, and vexed +at not being able to die that very instant and follow in her footsteps +that although he was now fully conscious that his father was speaking to +him he could not, in fact, lend him an ear, but simply stood in a timid +and nervous mood. Chia Cheng noticed that he was in a state of trembling +and fear, not as ready with an answer as he usually was, and his sorry +plight somewhat incensed him, much though he had not at first borne him +any ill-feeling. But just as he was about to chide him, a messenger +approached and announced to him: "Some one has come from the mansion of +the imperial Prince Chung Shun, and wishes to see you, Sir." At this +announcement, surmises sprung up in Chia Cheng's mind. "Hitherto," he +secretly mused, "I've never had any dealings with the Chung Shun +mansion, and why is it that some one is despatched here to-day?" As he +gave way to these reflections. "Be quick," he shouted, "and ask him to +take a seat in the pavilion," while he himself precipitately entered the +inner room and changed his costume. When he came out to greet the +visitor, he discovered that it was the senior officer of the Chung Shun +mansion. After the exchange of the salutations prescribed by the rites, +they sat down and tea was presented. But before (Chia Cheng) had had +time to start a topic of conversation, the senior officer anticipated +him, and speedily observed: "Your humble servant does not pay this visit +to-day to your worthy mansion on his own authority, but entirely in +compliance with instructions received, as there is a favour that I have +to beg of you. I make bold to trouble you, esteemed Sir, on behalf of +his highness, to take any steps you might deem suitable, and if you do, +not only will his highness remember your kindness, but even I, your +humble servant, and my colleagues will feel extremely grateful to you." + +Chia Cheng listened to him, but he could not nevertheless get a clue of +what he was driving at. Promptly returning his smile, he rose to his +feet. "You come, Sir," he inquired, "at the instance of his royal +highness, but what, I wonder, are the commands you have to give me? I +hope you will explain them to your humble servant, worthy Sir, in order +to enable him to carry them out effectively." + +The senior officer gave a sardonic smile. + +"There's nothing to carry out," he said. "All you, venerable Sir, have +to do is to utter one single word and the whole thing will be effected. +There is in our mansion a certain Ch'i Kuan, who plays the part of young +ladies. He hitherto stayed quietly in the mansion; but for the last +three or five days or so no one has seen him return home. Search has +been instituted in every locality, yet his whereabouts cannot be +discovered. But throughout these various inquiries, eight out of the ten +tenths of the inhabitants of the city have, with one consent, asserted +that he has of late been on very friendly terms with that honourable son +of yours, who was born with the jade in his mouth. This report was told +your servant and his colleagues, but as your worthy mansion is unlike +such residences as we can take upon ourselves to enter and search with +impunity, we felt under the necessity of laying the matter before our +imperial master. 'Had it been any of the other actors,' his highness +also says, 'I wouldn't have minded if even one hundred of them had +disappeared; but this Ch'i Kuan has always been so ready with pat +repartee, so respectful and trustworthy that he has thoroughly won my +aged heart, and I could never do without him.' He entreats you, +therefore, worthy Sir, to, in your turn, plead with your illustrious +scion, and request him to let Ch'i Kuan go back, in order that the +feelings, which prompt the Prince to make such earnest supplications, +may, in the first place, be satisfied: and that, in the next, your mean +servant and his associates may be spared the fatigue of toiling and +searching." + +At the conclusion of this appeal, he promptly made a low bow. As soon as +Chia Cheng found out the object of his errand, he felt both astonishment +and displeasure. With all promptitude, he issued directions that Pao-yue +should be told to come out of the garden. Pao-yue had no notion whatever +why he was wanted. So speedily he hurried to appear before his father. + +"What a regular scoundrel you are!" Chia Cheng exclaimed. "It is enough +that you won't read your books at home; but will you also go in for all +these lawless and wrongful acts? That Ch'i Kuan is a person whose +present honourable duties are to act as an attendant on his highness the +Prince of Chung Shun, and how extremely heedless of propriety must you +be to have enticed him, without good cause, to come away, and thus have +now brought calamity upon me?" + +These reproaches plunged Pao-yue in a dreadful state of consternation. +With alacrity he said by way of reply: "I really don't know anything +about the matter! To what do, after all, the two words Ch'i Kuan refer, +I wonder! Still less, besides, am I aware what entice can imply!" + +As he spoke, he started crying. + +But before Chia Cheng could open his month to pass any further remarks, +"Young gentleman," he heard the senior officer interpose with a sardonic +smile: "you shouldn't conceal anything! if he be either hidden in your +home, or if you know his whereabouts, divulge the truth at once; so that +less trouble should fall to our lot than otherwise would. And will we +not then bear in mind your virtue, worthy scion!" + +"I positively don't know." Pao-yue time after time maintained. "There +must, I fear, be some false rumour abroad; for I haven't so much as seen +anything of him." + +The senior officer gave two loud smiles, full of derision. "There's +evidence at hand," he rejoined, "so if you compel me to speak out before +your venerable father, won't you, young man, have to suffer the +consequences? But as you assert that you don't know who this person is, +how is it that that red sash has come to be attached to your waist?" + +When Pao-yue caught this allusion, he suddenly felt quite out of his +senses. He stared and gaped; while within himself, he argued: "How has +he come to hear anything about this! But since he knows all these secret +particulars, I cannot, I expect, put him off in other points; so +wouldn't it be better for me to pack him off, in order to obviate his +blubbering anything more?" "Sir," he consequently remarked aloud, "how +is it that despite your acquaintance with all these minute details, you +have no inkling of his having purchased a house? Are you ignorant of an +essential point like this? I've heard people say that he's, at present, +staying in the eastern suburbs at a distance of twenty li from the city +walls; at some place or other called Tzu T'an Pao, and that he has +bought there several acres of land and a few houses. So I presume he's +to be found in that locality; but of course there's no saying." + +"According to your version," smiled the senior officer, as soon as he +heard his explanation, "he must for a certainty be there. I shall +therefore go and look for him. If he's there, well and good; but if not, +I shall come again and request you to give me further directions." + +These words were still on his lips, when he took his leave and walked +off with hurried step. + +Chia Cheng was by this time stirred up to such a pitch of indignation +that his eyes stared aghast, and his mouth opened in bewilderment; and +as he escorted the officer out, he turned his head and bade Pao-yue not +budge. "I have," (he said), "to ask you something on my return." +Straightway he then went to see the officer off. But just as he was +turning back, he casually came across Chia Huan and several servant-boys +running wildly about in a body. "Quick, bring him here to me!" shouted +Chia Cheng to the young boys. "I want to beat him." + +Chia Huan, at the sight of his father, was so terrified that his bones +mollified and his tendons grew weak, and, promptly lowering his head, he +stood still." + +"What are you running about for?" Chia Cheng asked. "These menials of +yours do not mind you, but go who knows where, and let you roam about +like a wild horse! Where are the attendants who wait on you at school?" +he cried. + +When Chia Huan saw his father in such a dreadful rage, he availed +himself of the first opportunity to try and clear himself. "I wasn't +running about just now" he said. "But as I was passing by the side of +that well, I caught sight, for in that well a servant-girl was drowned, +of a human head that large, a body that swollen, floating about in +really a frightful way and I therefore hastily rushed past." + +Chia Cheng was thunderstruck by this disclosure. "There's been nothing +up, so who has gone and jumped into the well?" he inquired. "Never has +there been anything of the kind in my house before! Ever since the time +of our ancestors, servants have invariably been treated with clemency +and consideration. But I expect that I must of late have become remiss +in my domestic affairs, and that the managers must have arrogated to +themselves the right of domineering and so been the cause of bringing +about such calamities as violent deaths and disregard of life. Were +these things to reach the ears of people outside, what will become of +the reputation of our seniors? Call Chia Lien and Lai Ta here!" he +shouted. + +The servant-lads signified their obedience, with one voice. They were +about to go and summon them, when Chia Huan hastened to press forward. +Grasping the lapel of Chia Cheng's coat, and clinging to his knees, he +knelt down. "Father, why need you be angry?" he said. "Excluding the +people in Madame Wang's rooms, this occurrence is entirely unknown to +any of the rest; and I have heard my mother mention...." At this point, +he turned his head, and cast a glance in all four quarters. + +Chia Cheng guessed his meaning, and made a sign with his eyes. The young +boys grasped his purpose and drew far back on either side. + +Chia Huan resumed his confidences in a low tone of voice. "My mother," +he resumed, "told me that when brother Pao-yue was, the other day, in +Madame Wang's apartments, he seized her servant-maid Chin Ch'uan-erh +with the intent of dishonouring her. That as he failed to carry out his +design, he gave her a thrashing, which so exasperated Chin Ch'uan-erh +that she threw herself into the well and committed suicide...." + +Before however he could conclude his account, Chia Cheng had been +incensed to such a degree that his face assumed the colour of silver +paper. "Bring Pao-yue here," he cried. While uttering these orders, he +walked into the study. "If any one does again to-day come to dissuade +me," he vociferated, "I shall take this official hat, and sash, my home +and private property and surrender everything at once to him to go and +bestow them upon Pao-yue; for if I cannot escape blame (with a son like +the one I have), I mean to shave this scanty trouble-laden hair about my +temples and go in search of some unsullied place where I can spend the +rest of my days alone! I shall thus also avoid the crime of heaping, +above, insult upon my predecessors, and, below, of having given birth to +such a rebellious son." + +At the sight of Chia Cheng in this exasperation, the family companions +and attendants speedily realised that Pao-yue must once more be the cause +of it, and the whole posse hastened to withdraw from the study, biting +their fingers and putting their tongues out. + +Chia Cheng panted with excitement. He stretched his chest out and sat +bolt upright on a chair. His whole face was covered with the traces of +tears. "Bring Pao-yue! Bring Pao-yue!" he shouted consecutively. "Fetch a +big stick; bring a rope and tie him up; close all the doors! If any one +does communicate anything about it in the inner rooms, why, I'll +immediately beat him to death." + +The servant-boys felt compelled to express their obedience with one +consent, and some of them came to look after Pao-yue. + +As for Pao-yue, when he heard Chia Cheng enjoin him not to move, he +forthwith became aware that the chances of an unpropitious issue +outnumbered those of a propitious one, but how could he have had any +idea that Chia Huan as well had put in his word? There he still stood in +the pavilion, revolving in his mind how he could get some one to speed +inside and deliver a message for him. But, as it happened, not a soul +appeared. He was quite at a loss to know where even Pei Ming could be. +His longing was at its height, when he perceived an old nurse come on +the scene. The sight of her exulted Pao-yue, just as much as if he had +obtained pearls or gems; and hurriedly approaching her, he dragged her +and forced her to halt. "Go in," he urged, "at once and tell them that +my father wishes to beat me to death. Be quick, be quick, for it's +urgent, there's no time to be lost." + +But, first and foremost, Pao-yue's excitement was so intense that he +spoke with indistinctness. In the second place, the old nurse was, as +luck would have it, dull of hearing, so that she did not catch the drift +of what he said, and she misconstrued the two words: "it's urgent," for +the two representing jumped into the well. Readily smiling therefore: +"If she wants to jump into the well, let her do so," she said. "What's +there to make you fear, Master Secundus?" + +"Go out," pursued Pao-yue, in despair, on discovering that she was deaf, +"and tell my page to come." + +"What's there left unsettled?" rejoined the old nurse. "Everything has +been finished long ago! A tip has also been given them; so how is it +things are not settled?" + +Pao-yue fidgetted with his hands and feet. He was just at his wits' ends, +when he espied Chia Cheng's servant-boys come up and press him to go +out. + +As soon as Chia Cheng caught sight of him, his eyes got quite red. +Without even allowing himself any time to question him about his gadding +about with actors, and the presents he gave them on the sly, during his +absence from home; or about his playing the truant from school and +lewdly importuning his mother's maid, during his stay at home, he simply +shouted: "Gag his mouth and positively beat him till he dies!" + +The servant-boys did not have the boldness to disobey him. They were +under the necessity of seizing Pao-yue, of stretching him on a bench, and +of taking a heavy rattan and giving him about ten blows. + +Pao-yue knew well enough that he could not plead for mercy, and all he +could do was to whimper and cry. + +Chia Cheng however found fault with the light blows they administered to +him. With one kick he shoved the castigator aside, and snatching the +rattan into his own hands, he spitefully let (Pao-yue) have ten blows and +more. + +Pao-yue had not, from his very birth, experienced such anguish. From the +outset, he found the pain unbearable; yet he could shout and weep as +boisterously as ever he pleased; but so weak subsequently did his +breath, little by little, become, so hoarse his voice, and so choked his +throat that he could not bring out any sound. + +The family companions noticed that he was beaten in a way that might +lead to an unpropitious end, and they drew near with all despatch and +made earnest entreaties and exhortations. But would Chia Cheng listen to +them? + +"You people," he answered, "had better ask him whether the tricks he has +been up to deserve to be overlooked or not! It's you who have all along +so thoroughly spoilt him as to make him reach this degree of depravity! +And do you yet come to advise me to spare him? When by and bye you've +incited him to commit parricide or regicide, you will at length, then, +give up trying to dissuade me, eh?" + +This language jarred on the ears of the whole party; and knowing only +too well that he was in an exasperated mood, they fussed about +endeavouring to find some one to go in and convey the news. + +But Madame Wang did not presume to be the first to inform dowager lady +Chia about it. Seeing no other course open to her, she hastily dressed +herself and issued out of the garden. Without so much as worrying her +mind as to whether there were any male inmates about or not, she +straightway leant on a waiting-maid and hurriedly betook herself into +the library, to the intense consternation of the companions, pages and +all the men present, who could not manage to clear out of the way in +time. + +Chia Cheng was on the point of further belabouring his son, when at the +sight of Madame Wang walking in, his temper flared up with such +increased violence, just as fire on which oil is poured, that the rod +fell with greater spite and celerity. The two servant-boys, who held +Pao-yue down, precipitately loosened their grip and beat a retreat. +Pao-yue had long ago lost all power of movement. Chia Cheng, however, was +again preparing to assail him, when the rattan was immediately locked +tightly by Madame Wang, in both her arms. + +"Of course, of course," Chia Cheng exclaimed, "what you want to do +to-day is to make me succumb to anger!" + +"Pao-yue does, I admit, merit to be beaten," sobbed Madame Wang; "but you +should also, my lord, take good care of yourself! The weather, besides, +is extremely hot, and our old lady is not feeling quite up to the mark. +Were you to knock Pao-yue about and kill him, it would not matter much; +but were perchance our venerable senior to suddenly fall ill, wouldn't +it be a grave thing?" + +"Better not talk about such things!" observed Chia Cheng with a listless +smile. "By my bringing up such a degenerate child of retribution I have +myself become unfilial! Whenever I've had to call him to account, there +has always been a whole crowd of you to screen him; so isn't it as well +for me to avail myself of to-day to put an end to his cur-like existence +and thus prevent future misfortune?" + +As he spoke, he asked for a rope to strangle him; but Madame Wang lost +no time in clasping him in her embrace, and reasoning with him as she +wept. "My lord and master," she said, "it is your duty, of course, to +keep your son in proper order, but you should also regard the +relationship of husband and wife. I'm already a woman of fifty and I've +only got this scapegrace. Was there any need for you to give him such a +bitter lesson? I wouldn't presume to use any strong dissuasion; but +having, on this occasion, gone so far as to harbour the design of +killing him, isn't this a fixed purpose on your part to cut short my own +existence? But as you are bent upon strangling him, be quick and first +strangle me before you strangle him! It will be as well that we, mother +and son, should die together, so that if even we go to hell, we may be +able to rely upon each other!" + +At the conclusion of these words, she enfolded Pao-yue in her embrace and +raised her voice in loud sobs. + +After listening to her appeal, Chia Cheng could not restrain a deep +sigh; and taking a seat on one of the chairs, the tears ran down his +cheeks like drops of rain. + +But while Madame Wang held Pao-yue in her arms, she noticed that his face +was sallow and his breath faint, and that his green gauze nether +garments were all speckled with stains of blood, so she could not check +her fingers from unloosening his girdle. And realising that from the +thighs to the buttocks, his person was here green, there purple, here +whole, there broken, and that there was, in fact, not the least bit, +which had not sustained some injury, she of a sudden burst out in bitter +lamentations for her offspring's wretched lot in life. But while +bemoaning her unfortunate son, she again recalled to mind the memory of +Chia Chu, and vehemently calling out "Chia Chu," she sobbed: "if but you +were alive, I would not care if even one hundred died!" + +But by this time, the inmates of the inner rooms discovered that Madame +Wang had gone out, and Li Kung-ts'ai, Wang Hsi-feng and Ting Ch'un and +her sisters promptly rushed out of the garden and came to join her. + +While Madame Wang mentioned, with eyes bathed in tears, the name of Chia +Chu, every one listened with composure, with the exception of Li +Kung-ts'ai, who unable to curb her feelings also raised her voice in +sobs. As soon as Chia Cheng heard her plaints, his tears trickled down +with greater profusion, like pearls scattered about. But just as there +seemed no prospect of their being consoled, a servant-girl was unawares +heard to announce: "Our dowager lady has come!" Before this announcement +was ended, her tremulous accents reached their ears from outside the +window. "If you were to beat me to death and then despatch him," she +cried, "won't you be clear of us!" + +Chia Cheng, upon seeing that his mother was coming, felt distressed and +pained. With all promptitude, he went out to meet her. He perceived his +old parent, toddling along, leaning on the arm of a servant-girl, +wagging her head and gasping for breath. + +Chia Cheng drew forward and made a curtsey. "On a hot broiling day like +this," he ventured, forcing a smile, "what made you, mother, get so +angry as to rush over in person? Had you anything to enjoin me, you +could have sent for me, your son, and given me your orders." + +Old lady Chia, at these words, halted and panted. "Are you really +chiding me?" she at the same time said in a stern tone. "It's I who +should call you to task! But as the son, I've brought up, isn't worth a +straw, to whom can I go and address a word?" + +When Chia Cheng heard language so unlike that generally used by her, he +immediately fell on his knees. While doing all in his power to contain +his tears: "The reason why," he explained, "your son corrects his +offspring is a desire to reflect lustre on his ancestors and splendour +on his seniors; so how can I, your son, deserve the rebuke with which +you greet me, mother?" + +At this reply, old lady Chia spurted contemptuously. "I made just one +remark," she added, "and you couldn't stand it, and can Pao-yue likely +put up with that death-working cane? You say that your object in +correcting your son is to reflect lustre on your ancestors and splendour +on your seniors, but in what manner did your father correct you in days +gone by?" + +Saying this, tears suddenly rolled down from her eyes also. + +Chia Cheng forced another smile. "Mother;" he proceeded, "you shouldn't +distress yourself! Your son did it in a sudden fit of rage, but from +this time forth I won't touch him again." + +Dowager lady Chia smiled several loud sneering smiles. "But you +shouldn't get into a huff with me!" she urged. "He's your son, so if you +choose to flog him, you can naturally do so, but I cannot help thinking +that you're sick and tired of me, your mother, of your wife and of your +son, so wouldn't it be as well that we should get out of your way, the +sooner the better, as we shall then be able to enjoy peace and quiet?" + +So speaking, "Go and look after the chairs." she speedily cried to a +servant. "I and your lady as well as Pao-yue will, without delay, return +to Nanking." + +The servant had no help but to assent. + +Old lady Chia thereupon called Madame Wang over to her. "You needn't +indulge in sorrow!" she exhorted her. "Pao-yue is now young, and you +cherish him fondly; but does it follow that when in years to come he +becomes an official, he'll remember that you are his mother? You mustn't +therefore at present lavish too much of your affection upon him, so that +you may by and bye, spare yourself, at least, some displeasure." + +When these exhortations fell on Chia Cheng's ear, he instantly +prostrated himself before her. "Your remarks mother," he observed, "cut +the ground under your son's very feet." + +"You distinctly act in a way," cynically smiled old lady Chia, +"sufficient to deprive me of any ground to stand upon, and then you, on +the contrary, go and speak about yourself! But when we shall have gone +back, your mind will be free of all trouble. We'll see then who'll +interfere and dissuade you from beating people!" + +After this reply, she went on to give orders to directly get ready the +baggage, carriages, chairs and horses necessary for their return. + +Chia Cheng stiffly and rigidly fell on his knees, and knocked his head +before her, and pleaded guilty. Dowager lady Chia then addressed him +some words, and as she did so, she came to have a look at Pao-yue. Upon +perceiving that the thrashing he had got this time was unlike those of +past occasions, she experienced both pain and resentment. So clasping +him in her arms, she wept and wept incessantly. It was only after Madame +Wang, lady Feng and the other ladies had reasoned with her for a time +that they at length gradually succeeded in consoling her. + +But waiting-maids, married women, and other attendants soon came to +support Pao-yue and take him away. Lady Feng however at once expostulated +with them. "You stupid things," she exclaimed, won't you open your eyes +and see! How ever could he be raised and made to walk in the state he's +in! Don't you yet instantly run inside and fetch some rattan slings and +a bench to carry him out of this on? + +At this suggestion, the servants rushed hurry-scurry inside and actually +brought a bench; and, lifting Pao-yue, they placed him on it. Then +following dowager lady Chia, Madame Wang and the other inmates into the +inner part of the building, they carried him into his grandmother's +apartments. But Chia Cheng did not fail to notice that his old mother's +passion had not by this time yet abated, so without presuming to consult +his own convenience, he too came inside after them. Here he discovered +how heavily he had in reality castigated Pao-yue. Upon perceiving Madame +Wang also crying, with one breath, "My flesh;" and, with another, saying +with tears: "My son, if you had died sooner, instead of Chu Erh, and +left Chu Erh behind you, you would have saved your father these fits of +anger, and even I would not have had to fruitlessly worry and fret for +half of my existence! Were anything to happen now to make you forsake +me, upon whom will you have me depend?" And then after heaping +reproaches upon herself for a time, break out afresh in lamentations for +her, unavailing offspring, Chia Cheng was much cut up and felt conscious +that he should not with his own hand have struck his son so ruthlessly +as to bring him to this state, and he first and foremost directed his +attention to consoling dowager lady Chia. + +"If your son isn't good," rejoined the old lady, repressing her tears, +"it is naturally for you to exercise control over him. But you shouldn't +beat him to such a pitch! Don't you yet bundle yourself away? What are +you dallying in here for? Is it likely, pray, that your heart is not yet +satisfied, and that you wish to feast your eyes by seeing him die before +you go?" + +These taunts induced Chia Cheng to eventually withdraw out of the room. +By this time, Mrs. Hsueeh together with Pao-ch'ai, Hsiang Ling, Hsi Jen, +Shih Hsiang-yuen and his other cousins had also congregated in the +apartments. Hsi Jen's heart was overflowing with grief; but she could +not very well give expression to it. When she saw that a whole company +of people shut him in, some pouring water over him, others fanning him; +and that she herself could not lend a hand in any way, she availed +herself of a favourable moment to make her exit. Proceeding then as far +as the second gate, she bade the servant-boys go and fetch Pei-Ming. On +his arrival, she submitted him to a searching inquiry. "Why is it," she +asked, "that he was beaten just now without the least provocation; and +that you didn't run over soon to tell me a word about it?" + +"It happened," answered Pei Ming in great perplexity, "that I wasn't +present. It was only after he had given him half the flogging that I +heard what was going on, and lost no time in ascertaining what it was +all about. It's on account of those affairs connected with Ch'i Kuan and +that girl Chin Ch'uan." + +"How did these things come to master's knowledge?" inquired Hsi Jen. + +"As for that affair with Ch'i Kuan," continued Pei Ming, "it is very +likely Mr. Hsueeh P'an who has let it out; for as he has ever been +jealous, he may, in the absence of any other way of quenching his +resentment, have instigated some one or other outside, who knows, to +come and see master and add fuel to his anger. As for Chin Ch'uan-erh's +affair it has presumably been told him by Master Tertius. This I heard +from the lips of some person, who was in attendance upon master." + +Hsi Jen saw how much his two versions tallied with the true +circumstances, so she readily credited the greater portion of what was +told her. Subsequently, she returned inside. Here she found a whole +crowd of people trying to do the best to benefit Pao-yue. But after they +had completed every arrangement, dowager lady Chia impressed on their +minds that it would be better were they to carefully move him into his +own quarters. With one voice they all signified their approval, and with +a good deal of bustling and fussing, they speedily transferred Pao-yue +into the I Hung court, where they stretched him out comfortably on his +own bed. Then after some further excitement, the members of the family +began gradually to disperse. Hsi Jen at last entered his room, and +waited upon him with singleness of heart. + +But, reader, if you feel any curiosity to hear what follows, listen to +what you will find divulged in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + Tai-yue loves Pao-yue with extreme affection; but, on account of this + affection, her female cousin gets indignant. + Hsueeh P'an commits a grave mistake; but Pao-ch'ai makes this mistake a + pretext to tender advice to her brother. + + +When Hsi Jen saw dowager lady Chia, Madame Wang and the other members of +the family take their leave, our narrative says, she entered the room. +and, taking a seat next to Pao-yue, she asked him, while she did all she +could to hide her tears: "How was it that he beat you to such extremes?" + +Pao-yue heaved a sigh. "It was simply," he replied, "about those trifles. +But what's the use of your asking me about them? The lower part of my +body is so very sore! Do look and see where I'm bruised!" + +At these words, Hsi Jen put out her hand, and inserting it gently under +his clothes, she began to pull down the middle garments. She had but +slightly moved them, however, when Pao-yue ground his teeth and groaned +"ai-ya." Hsi Jen at once stayed her hand. It was after three or four +similar attempts that she, at length, succeeded in drawing them down. +Then looking closely, Hsi Jen discovered that the upper part of his legs +was all green and purple, one mass of scars four fingers wide, and +covered with huge blisters. + +Hsi Jen gnashed her teeth. "My mother!" she ejaculated, "how is it that +he struck you with such a ruthless hand! Had you minded the least bit of +my advice to you, things wouldn't have come to such a pass! Luckily, no +harm was done to any tendon or bone; for had you been crippled by the +thrashing you got, what could we do?" + +In the middle of these remarks, she saw the servant-girls come, and they +told her that Miss Pao-ch'ai had arrived. Hearing this, Hsi Jen saw well +enough that she had no time to put him on his middle garments, so +forthwith snatching a double gauze coverlet, she threw it over Pao-yue. +This done, she perceived Pao-ch'ai walk in, her hands laden with pills +and medicines. + +"At night," she said to Hsi Jen, "take these medicines and dissolve them +in wine and then apply them on him, and, when the fiery virus from that +stagnant blood has been dispelled, he'll be all right again." + +After these directions, she handed the medicines to Hsi Jen. "Is he +feeling any better now?" she proceeded to inquired. + +"Thanks!" rejoined Pao-yue. "I'm feeling better," he at the same time +went on to say; after which, he pressed her to take a seat. + +Pao-ch'ai noticed that he could open his eyes wide, that he could speak +and that he was not as bad as he had been, and she felt considerable +inward relief. But nodding her head, she sighed. "If you had long ago +listened to the least bit of the advice tendered to you by people things +would not have reached this climax to-day," she said. "Not to speak of +the pain experienced by our dear ancestor and aunt Wang, the sight of +you in this state makes even us feel at heart...." + +Just as she had uttered half of the remark she meant to pass, she +quickly suppressed the rest; and smitten by remorse for having spoken +too hastily, she could not help getting red in the face and lowering her +head. + +Pao-yue was realising how affectionate, how friendly and how replete with +deep meaning were the sentiments that dropped from her month, when, of a +sudden, he saw her seal her lips and, flashing crimson, droop her head, +and simply fumble with her girdle. Yet so fascinating was she in those +timid blushes, which completely baffle description, that his feelings +were roused within him to such a degree, that all sense of pain flew at +once beyond the empyrean. "I've only had to bear a few blows," he +reflected, "and yet every one of them puts on those pitiful looks +sufficient to evoke love and regard; so were, after all, any mishap or +untimely end to unexpectedly befall me, who can tell how much more +afflicted they won't be! And as they go on in this way, I shall have +them, were I even to die in a moment, to feel so much for me; so there +will indeed be no reason for regret, albeit the concerns of a whole +lifetime will be thus flung entirely to the winds!" + +While indulging in these meditations, ha overheard Pao-ch'ai ask Hsi +Jen: "How is it that he got angry, without rhyme or reason, and started +beating him?" and Hsi Jen tell her, in reply, the version given to her +by Pei Ming. + +Pao-yue had, in fact, no idea as yet of what had been said by Chia Huan, +and, when he heard Hsi Jen's disclosures, he eventually got to know what +it was; but as it also criminated Hsueeh P'an, he feared lest Pao-ch'ai +might feel unhappy, so he lost no time in interrupting Hsi Jen. + +"Cousin Hsueeh," he interposed, "has never been like that; you people +mustn't therefore give way to idle surmises!" + +These words were enough to make Pao-ch'ai see that Pao-yue had thought it +expedient to say something to stop Hsi Jen's mouth, apprehending that +her suspicions might get roused; and she consequently secretly mused +within herself: "He has been beaten to such a pitch, and yet, heedless +of his own pains and aches, he's still so careful not to hurt people's +feelings. But since you can be so considerate, why don't you take a +little more care in greater concerns outside, so that your father should +feel a little happier, and that you also should not have to suffer such +bitter ordeals! But notwithstanding that the dread of my feeling hurt +has prompted you to interrupt Hsi Jen in what she had to tell me, is it +likely that I am blind to the fact that my brother has ever followed his +fancies, allowed his passions to run riot, and never done a thing to +exercise any check over himself? His temperament is such that he some +time back created, all on account of that fellow Ch'in Chung, a rumpus +that turned heaven and earth topsy-turvy; and, as a matter of course, +he's now far worse than he was ever before!" + +"You people," she then observed aloud, at the close of these +cogitations, "shouldn't bear this one or that one a grudge. I can't help +thinking that it's, after all, because of your usual readiness, cousin +Pao-yue, to hobnob with that set that your father recently lost control +over his temper. But assuming that my brother did speak in a careless +manner and did casually allude to you cousin Pao-yue, it was with no +design to instigate any one! In the first place, the remarks he made +were really founded on actual facts; and secondly, he's not one to ever +trouble himself about such petty trifles as trying to guard against +animosities. Ever since your youth up, Miss Hsi, you've simply had +before your eyes a person so punctilious as cousin Pao-yue, but have you +ever had any experience of one like that brother of mine, who neither +fears the powers in heaven or in earth, and who readily blurts out all +he thinks?" + +Hsi Jen, seeing Pao-yue interrupt her, at the bare mention of Hsueeh P'an, +understood at once that she must have spoken recklessly and gave way to +misgivings lest Pao-ch'ai might not have been placed in a false +position, but when she heard the language used by Pao-ch'ai, she was +filled with a keener sense of shame and could not utter a word. Pao-yue +too, after listening to the sentiments, which Pao-ch'ai expressed, felt, +partly because they were so magnanimous and noble, and partly because +they banished all misconception from his mind, his heart and soul throb +with greater emotion then ever before. When, however, about to put in +his word, he noticed Pao-ch'ai rise to her feet. + +"I'll come again to see you to-morrow," she said, "but take good care of +yourself! I gave the medicines I brought just now to Hsi Jen; let her +rub you with them at night and I feel sure you'll get all right." + +With these recommendations, she walked out of the door. + +Hsi Jen hastened to catch her up and escorted her beyond the court. +"Miss," she remarked, "we've really put you to the trouble of coming. +Some other day, when Mr. Secundus is well, I shall come in person to +thank you." + +"What's there to thank me for?" replied Pao-ch'ai, turning her head +round and smiling. "But mind, you advise him to carefully tend his +health, and not to give way to idle thoughts and reckless ideas, and +he'll recover. If there's anything he fancies to eat or to amuse himself +with, come quietly over to me and fetch it for him. There will be no use +to disturb either our old lady, or Madame Wang, or any of the others; +for in the event of its reaching Mr. Chia Cheng's ear, nothing may, at +the time, come of it; but if by and bye he finds it to be true, we'll, +doubtless, suffer for it!" + +While tendering this advice, she went on her way. + +Hsi Jen retraced her steps and returned into the room, fostering genuine +feelings of gratitude for Pao-ch'ai. But on entering, she espied Pao-yue +silently lost in deep thought, and looking as if he were asleep, and yet +not quite asleep, so she withdrew into the outer quarters to comb her +hair and wash. + +Pao-yue meanwhile lay motionless in bed. His buttocks tingled with pain, +as if they were pricked with needles, or dug with knives; giving him to +boot a fiery sensation just as if fire were eating into them. He tried +to change his position a bit, but unable to bear the anguish, he burst +into groans. The shades of evening were by this time falling. Perceiving +that though Hsi Jen had left his side there remained still two or three +waiting-maids in attendance, he said to them, as he could find nothing +for them to do just then, "You might as well go and comb your hair and +perform your ablutions; come in, when I call you." + +Hearing this, they likewise retired. During this while, Pao-yue fell into +a drowsy state. Chiang Yue-han then rose before his vision and told him +all about his capture by men from the Chung Shun mansion. Presently, +Chin Ch'uan-erh too appeared in his room bathed in tears, and explained +to him the circumstances which drove her to leap into the well. But +Pao-yue, who was half dreaming and half awake, was not able to give his +mind to anything that was told him. Unawares, he became conscious of +some one having given him a push; and faintly fell on his ear the +plaintive tones of some person in distress. Pao-yue was startled out of +his dreams. On opening his eyes, he found it to be no other than Lin +Tai-yue. But still fearing that it was only a dream, he promptly raised +himself, and drawing near her face he passed her features under a minute +scrutiny. Seeing her two eyes so swollen, as to look as big as peaches, +and her face glistening all over with tears: "If it is not Tai-yue," (he +thought), "who else can it be?" + +Pao-yue meant to continue his scrutiny, but the lower part of his person +gave him such unbearable sharp twitches that finding it a hard task to +keep up, he, with a shout of "Ai-yo," lay himself down again, as he +heaved a sigh. "What do you once more come here for?" he asked. "The +sun, it is true, has set; but the heat remaining on the ground hasn't +yet gone, so you may, by coming over, get another sunstroke. Of course, +I've had a thrashing but I don't feel any pains or aches. If I behave in +this fashion, it's all put on to work upon their credulity, so that they +may go and spread the reports outside in such a way as to reach my +father's ear. Really it's all sham; so you mustn't treat it as a fact!" + +Though Lin Tai-yue was not giving way at the time to any wails or loud +sobs, yet the more she indulged in those suppressed plaints of hers, the +worse she felt her breath get choked and her throat obstructed; so that +when Pao-yue's assurances fell on her ear, she could not express a single +sentiment, though she treasured thousands in her mind. It was only after +a long pause that she at last could observe, with agitated voice: "You +must after this turn over a new leaf." + +At these words, Pao-yue heaved a deep sigh. "Compose your mind," he +urged. "Don't speak to me like this; for I am quite prepared to even lay +down my life for all those persons!" + +But scarcely had he concluded this remark than some one outside the +court was heard to say: "Our lady Secunda has arrived." + +Lin Tai-yue readily concluded that it was lady Feng coming, so springing +to her feet at once, "I'm off," she said; "out by the back-court. I'll +look you up again by and bye." + +"This is indeed strange!" exclaimed Pao-yue as he laid hold of her and +tried to detain her. "How is it that you've deliberately started living +in fear and trembling of her!" + +Lin Tai-yue grew impatient and stamped her feet. "Look at my eyes!" she +added in an undertone. "Must those people amuse themselves again by +poking fun at me?" + +After this response, Pao-yue speedily let her go. + +Lin Tai-yue with hurried step withdrew behind the bed; and no sooner had +she issued into the back-court, than lady Feng made her appearance in +the room by the front entrance. + +"Are you better?" she asked Pao-yue. "If you fancy anything to eat, mind +you send some one over to my place to fetch it for you." + +Thereupon Mrs. Hsueeh also came to pay him a visit. Shortly after, a +messenger likewise arrived from old lady Chia (to inquire after him). + +When the time came to prepare the lights, Pao-yue had a couple of +mouthfuls of soup to eat, but he felt so drowsy and heavy that he fell +asleep. + +Presently, Chou Jui's wife, Wu Hsin-teng's wife and Cheng Hao-shih's +wife, all of whom were old dames who frequently went to and fro, heard +that Pao-yue had been flogged and they too hurried into his quarters. + +Hsi Jen promptly went out to greet them. "Aunts," she whispered, +smiling, "you've come a little too late; Master Secundus is sleeping." +Saying this, she led them into the room on the opposite side, and, +pressing then to sit down, she poured them some tea. + +After sitting perfectly still for a time, "When Master Secundus awakes" +the dames observed, "do send us word!" + +Hsi Jen assured them that she would, and escorted them out. Just, +however, as she was about to retrace her footsteps, she met an old +matron, sent over by Madame Wang, who said to her: "Our mistress wants +one of Master Secundus attendants to go and see her." + +Upon hearing this message, Hsi Jen communed with her own thoughts. Then +turning round, she whispered to Ch'ing Wen, She Yueeh, Ch'iu Wen, and the +other maids: "Our lady wishes to see one of us, so be careful and remain +in the room while I go. I'll be back soon." + +At the close of her injunctions, she and the matron made their exit out +of the garden by a short cut, and repaired into the drawing-room. + +Madame Wang was seated on the cool couch, waving a banana-leaf fan. When +she became conscious of her arrival: "It didn't matter whom you sent," +she remarked, "any one would have done. But have you left him again? +Who's there to wait on him?" + +At this question, Hsi Jen lost no time in forcing a smile. "Master +Secundus," she replied, "just now fell into a sound sleep. Those four or +five girls are all right now, they are well able to attend to their +master, so please, Madame, dispel all anxious thoughts! I was afraid +that your ladyship might have some orders to give, and that if I sent +any of them, they might probably not hear distinctly, and thus occasion +delay in what there was to be done." + +"There's nothing much to tell you," added Madame Wang. "I only wish to +ask how his pains and aches are getting on now?" + +"I applied on Mr. Secundus," answered Hsi Jen, "the medicine, which Miss +Pao-ch'ai brought over; and he's better than he was. He was so sore at +one time that he couldn't lie comfortably; but the deep sleep, in which +he is plunged now, is a clear sign of his having improved." + +"Has he had anything to eat?" further inquired Madame Wang. + +"Our dowager mistress sent him a bowl of soup," Hsi Jen continued, "and +of this he has had a few mouthfuls. He shouted and shouted that his +mouth was parched and fancied a decoction of sour plums, but remembering +that sour plums are astringent things, that he had been thrashed only a +short time before, and that not having been allowed to groan, he must, +of course, have been so hard pressed that fiery virus and heated blood +must unavoidably have accumulated in the heart, and that were he to put +anything of the kind within his lips, it might be driven into the +cardiac regions and give rise to some serious illness; and what then +would we do? I therefore reasoned with him for ever so long and at last +succeeded in deterring him from touching any. So simply taking that +syrup of roses, prepared with sugar, I mixed some with water and he had +half a small cup of it. But he drank it with distaste; for, being +surfeited with it, he found it neither scented nor sweet." + +"Ai-yah!" ejaculated Madame Wang. "Why didn't you come earlier and tell +me? Some one sent me the other day several bottles of scented water. I +meant at one time to have given him some, but as I feared that it would +be mere waste, I didn't let him have any. But since he is so sick and +tired of that preparation of roses, that he turns up his nose at it, +take those two bottles with you. If you just mix a teaspoonful of it in +a cup of water, it will impart to it a very strong perfume." + +So saying, she hastened to tell Ts'ai Yuen to fetch the bottles of +scented water, which she had received as a present a few days before. + +"Let her only bring a couple of them, they'll be enough!" Hsi Jen chimed +in. "If you give us more, it will be a useless waste! If it isn't +enough, I can come and fetch a fresh supply. It will come to the same +thing!" + +Having listened to all they had to say, Ts'ai Yuen left the room. After +some considerable time, she, in point of fact, returned with only a +couple of bottles, which she delivered to Hsi Jen. + +On examination, Hsi Jen saw two small glass bottles, no more than three +inches in size, with screwing silver stoppers at the top. On the +gosling-yellow labels was written, on one: "Pure extract of _olea +fragrans_," on the other, "Pure extract of roses." + +"What fine things these are!" Hsi Jen smiled. "How many small bottles +the like of this can there be?" + +"They are of the kind sent to the palace," rejoined Madame Wang. "Didn't +you notice that gosling-yellow slip? But mind, take good care of them +for him; don't fritter them away!" + +Hsi Jen assented. She was about to depart when Madame Wang called her +back. "I've thought of something," she said, "that I want to ask you." + +Hsi Jen hastily came back. + +Madame Wang made sure that there was no one in the room. "I've heard a +faint rumour," she then inquired, "to the effect that Pao-yue got a +thrashing on this occasion on account of something or other which +Huan-Erh told my husband. Have you perchance heard what it was that he +said? If you happen to learn anything about it, do confide in me, and I +won't make any fuss and let people know that it was you who told me." + +"I haven't heard anything of the kind," answered Hsi Jen. "It was +because Mr. Secundus forcibly detained an actor, and that people came +and asked master to restore him to them that he got flogged." + +"It was also for this," continued Madame Wang as she nodded her head, +"but there's another reason besides." + +"As for the other reason, I honestly haven't the least idea about it," +explained Hsi Jen. "But I'll make bold to-day, and say something in your +presence, Madame, about which I don't know whether I am right or wrong +in speaking. According to what's proper...." + +She had only spoken half a sentence, when hastily she closed her mouth +again. + +"You are at liberty to proceed," urged Madame Wang. + +"If your ladyship will not get angry, I'll speak out," remarked Hsi Jen. + +"Why should I get angry?" observed Madame Wang. "Proceed!" + +"According to what's proper," resumed Hsi Jen, "our Mr. Secundus should +receive our master's admonition, for if master doesn't hold him in +check, there's no saying what he mightn't do in the future." + +As soon as Madame Wang heard this, she clasped her hands and uttered the +invocation, "O-mi-to-fu!" Unable to resist the impulse, she drew near +Hsi Jen. "My dear child," she added, "you have also luckily understood +the real state of things. What you told me is in perfect harmony with my +own views! Is it likely that I don't know how to look after a son? In +former days, when your elder master, Chu, was alive, how did I succeed +in keeping him in order? And can it be that I don't, after all, now +understand how to manage a son? But there's a why and a wherefore in it. +The thought is ever present in my mind now, that I'm already a woman +past fifty, that of my children there only remains this single one, that +he too is developing a delicate physique, and that, what's more, our +dear senior prizes him as much as she would a jewel, that were he kept +under strict control, and anything perchance to happen to him, she +might, an old lady as she is, sustain some harm from resentment, and +that as the high as well as the low will then have no peace or quiet, +won't things get in a bad way? So I feel prompted to spoil him by +over-indulgence. Time and again I reason with him. Sometimes, I talk to +him; sometimes, I advise him; sometimes, I cry with him. But though, for +the time being, he's all right, he doesn't, later on, worry his mind in +any way about what I say, until he positively gets into some other mess, +when he settles down again. But should any harm befall him, through +these floggings, upon whom will I depend by and bye?" + +As she spoke, she could not help melting into tears. + +At the sight of Madame Wang in this disconsolate mood, Hsi Jen herself +unconsciously grew wounded at heart, and as she wept along with her, +"Mr. Secundus," she ventured, "is your ladyship's own child, so how +could you not love him? Even we, who are mere servants, think it a piece +of good fortune when we can wait on him for a time, and all parties can +enjoy peace and quiet. But if he begins to behave in this manner, even +peace and quiet will be completely out of the question for us. On what +day, and at what hour, don't I advise Mr. Secundus; yet I can't manage +to stir him up by any advice! But it happens that all that crew are ever +ready to court his friendship, so it isn't to be wondered that he is +what he is! The truth is that he thinks the advice we give him is not +right and proper! As you have to-day, Madame, alluded to this subject, +I've got something to tell you which has weighed heavy on my mind. I've +been anxious to come and confide it to your ladyship and to solicit your +guidance, but I've been in fear and dread lest you should give way to +suspicion. For not only would then all my disclosures have been in vain, +but I would have deprived myself of even a piece of ground wherein my +remains could be laid." + +Madame Wang perceived that her remarks were prompted by some purpose. +"My dear child," she eagerly urged; "go on, speak out! When I recently +heard one and all praise you secretly behind your back, I simply fancied +that it was because you were careful in your attendance on Pao-yue; or +possibly because you got on well with every one; all on account of minor +considerations like these; (but I never thought it was on account of +your good qualities). As it happens, what you told me just now concerns, +in all its bearings, a great principle, and is in perfect accord with my +ideas, so speak out freely, if you have aught to say! Only let no one +else know anything about it, that is all that is needed." + +"I've got nothing more to say," proceeded Hsi Jen. "My sole idea was to +solicit your advice, Madame, as to how to devise a plan to induce Mr. +Secundus to move his quarters out of the garden by and bye, as things +will get all right then." + +This allusion much alarmed Madame Wang. Speedily taking Hsi Jen's hand +in hers: "Is it likely," she inquired, "that Pao-yue has been up to any +mischief with any one?" + +"Don't be too suspicious!" precipitately replied Hsi Jen. "It wasn't at +anything of the kind that I was hinting. I merely expressed my humble +opinion. Mr. Secundus is a young man now, and the young ladies inside +are no more children. More than that, Miss Lin and Miss Pao may be two +female maternal first cousins of his, but albeit his cousins, there is +nevertheless the distinction of male and female between them; and day +and night, as they are together, it isn't always convenient, when they +have to rise and when they have to sit; so this cannot help making one +give way to misgivings. Were, in fact, any outsider to see what's going +on, it would not look like the propriety, which should exist in great +families. The proverb appositely says that: 'when there's no trouble, +one should make provision for the time of trouble.' How many concerns +there are in the world, of which there's no making head or tail, mostly +because what persons do without any design is construed by such +designing people, as chance to have their notice attracted to it, as +having been designedly accomplished, and go on talking and talking till, +instead of mending matters, they make them worse! But if precautions be +not taken beforehand, something improper will surely happen, for your +ladyship is well aware of the temperament Mr. Secundus has shown all +along! Besides, his great weakness is to fuss in our midst, so if no +caution be exercised, and the slightest mistake be sooner or later +committed, there'll be then no question of true or false: for when +people are many one says one thing and another, and what is there that +the months of that mean lot will shun with any sign of respect? Why, if +their hearts be well disposed, they will maintain that he is far +superior to Buddha himself. But if their hearts be badly disposed, they +will at once knit a tissue of lies to show that he cannot even reach the +standard of a beast! Now, if people by and bye speak well of Mr. +Secundus, we'll all go on smoothly with our lives. But should he +perchance give reason to any one to breathe the slightest disparaging +remark, won't his body, needless for us to say, be smashed to pieces, +his bones ground to powder, and the blame, which he might incur, be made +ten thousand times more serious than it is? These things are all +commonplace trifles; but won't Mr. Secundus' name and reputation be +subsequently done for for life? Secondly, it's no easy thing for your +ladyship to see anything of our master. A proverb also says: 'The +perfect man makes provision beforehand;' so wouldn't it be better that +we should, this very minute, adopt such steps as will enable us to guard +against such things? Your ladyship has much to attend to, and you +couldn't, of course, think of these things in a moment. And as for us, +it would have been well and good, had they never suggested themselves to +our minds; but since they have, we should be the more to blame did we +not tell you anything about them, Madame. Of late, I have racked my +mind, both day and night on this score; and though I couldn't very well +confide to any one, my lamp alone knows everything!" + +After listening to these words, Madame Wang felt as if she had been +blasted by thunder and struck by lightning; and, as they fitted so +appositely with the incident connected with Chin Ch'uan-erh, her heart +was more than ever fired with boundless affection for Hsi Jen. "My dear +girl," she promptly smiled, "it's you, who are gifted with enough +foresight to be able to think of these things so thoroughly. Yet, did I +not also think of them? But so busy have I been these several times that +they slipped from my memory. What you've told me to-day, however, has +brought me to my senses! It's, thanks to you, that the reputation of me, +his mother, and of him, my son, is preserved intact! I really never had +the faintest idea that you were so excellent! But you had better go now; +I know of a way. Yet, just another word. After your remarks to me, I'll +hand him over to your charge; please be careful of him. If you preserve +him from harm, it will be tantamount to preserving me from harm, and I +shall certainly not be ungrateful to you for it." + +Hsi Jen said several consecutive yes's, and went on her way. She got +back just in time to see Pao-yue awake. Hsi Jen explained all about the +scented water; and, so intensely delighted was Pao-yue, that he at once +asked that some should be mixed and brought to him to taste. In very +deed, he found it unusually fragrant and good. But as his heart was a +prey to anxiety on Tai-yue's behalf, he was full of longings to despatch +some one to look her up. He was, however, afraid of Hsi Jen. Readily +therefore he devised a plan to first get Hsi Jen out of the way, by +despatching her to Pao-ch'ai's, to borrow a book. After Hsi Jen's +departure, he forthwith called Ch'ing Wen. "Go," he said, "over to Miss +Lin's and see what she's up to. Should she inquire about me, all you +need tell her is that I'm all right." + +"What shall I go empty-handed for?" rejoined Ch'ing Wen. "If I were, at +least, to give her a message, it would look as if I had gone for +something." + +"I have no message that you can give her," added Pao-yue. + +"If it can't be that," suggested Ch'ing Wen; "I might either take +something over or fetch something. Otherwise, when I get there, what +excuse will I be able to find?" + +After some cogitation, Pao-yue stretched out his hand and, laying hold of +a couple of handkerchiefs, he threw them to Ch'ing Wen. "These will do," +he smiled. "Just tell her that I bade you take them to her." + +"This is strange!" exclaimed Ch'ing Wen. "Will she accept these two half +worn-out handkerchiefs! She'll besides get angry and say that you were +making fun of her." + +"Don't worry yourself about that;" laughed Pao-yue. "She will certainly +know what I mean." + +Ch'ing Wen, at this rejoinder, had no help but to take the handkerchiefs +and to go to the Hsiao Hsiang lodge, where she discovered Ch'un Hsien in +the act of hanging out handkerchiefs on the railings to dry. As soon as +she saw her walk in, she vehemently waved her hand. "She's gone to +sleep!" she said. Ch'ing Wen, however, entered the room. It was in +perfect darkness. There was not even so much as a lantern burning, and +Tai-yue was already ensconced in bed. "Who is there?" she shouted. + +"It's Ch'ing Wen!" promptly replied Ch'ing Wen. + +"What are you up to?" Tai-yue inquired. + +"Mr. Secundus," explained Ch'ing Wen, "sends you some handkerchiefs, +Miss." + +Tai-yue's spirits sunk as soon as she caught her reply. "What can he have +sent me handkerchiefs for?" she secretly reasoned within herself. "Who +gave him these handkerchiefs?" she then asked aloud. "They must be fine +ones, so tell him to keep them and give them to some one else; for I +don't need such things at present." + +"They're not new," smiled Ch'ing Wen. "They are of an ordinary kind, and +old." + +Hearing this, Lin Tai-yue felt downcast. But after minutely searching her +heart, she at last suddenly grasped his meaning and she hastily +observed: "Leave them and go your way." + +Ch'ing Wen was compelled to put them down; and turning round, she betook +herself back again. But much though she turned things over in her mind +during the whole of her way homewards, she did not succeed in solving +their import. + +When Tai-yue guessed the object of the handkerchief, her very soul +unawares flitted from her. "As Pao-yue has gone to such pains," she +pondered, "to try and probe this dejection of mine, I have, on one hand, +sufficient cause to feel gratified; but as there's no knowing what my +dejection will come to in the future there is, on the other, enough to +make me sad. Here he abruptly and deliberately sends me a couple of +handkerchiefs; and, were it not that he has divined my inmost feelings, +the mere sight of these handkerchiefs would be enough to make me treat +the whole thing as ridiculous. The secret exchange of presents between +us," she went on to muse, "fills me also with fears; and the thought +that those tears, which I am ever so fond of shedding to myself, are of +no avail, drives me likewise to blush with shame." + +And by dint of musing and reflecting, her heart began, in a moment, to +bubble over with such excitement that, much against her will, her +thoughts in their superabundance rolled on incessantly. So speedily +directing that a lamp should be lighted, she little concerned herself +about avoiding suspicion, shunning the use of names, or any other such +things, and set to work and rubbed the ink, soaked the pen, and then +wrote the following stanzas on the two old handkerchiefs: + + Vain in my eyes the tears collect; those tears in vain they flow, + Which I in secret shed; they slowly drop; but for whom though? + The silk kerchiefs, which he so kindly troubled to give me, + How ever could they not with anguish and distress fill me? + +The second ran thus: + + Like falling pearls or rolling gems, they trickle on the sly. + Daily I have no heart for aught; listless all day am I. + As on my pillow or sleeves' edge I may not wipe them dry, + I let them dot by dot, and drop by drop to run freely. + +And the third: + + The coloured thread cannot contain the pearls cov'ring my face. + Tears were of old at Hsiang Chiang shed, but faint has waxed each + trace. + Outside my window thousands of bamboos, lo, also grow, + But whether they be stained with tears or not, I do not know. + +Lin Tai-yue was still bent upon going on writing, but feeling her whole +body burn like fire, and her face scalding hot, she advanced towards the +cheval-glass, and, raising the embroidered cover, she looked in. She saw +at a glance that her cheeks wore so red that they, in very truth, put +even the peach blossom to the shade. Yet little did she dream that from +this date her illness would assume a more serious phase. Shortly, she +threw herself on the bed, and, with the handkerchiefs still grasped in +her hand, she was lost in a reverie. + +Putting her aside, we will now take up our story with Hsi Jen. She went +to pay a visit to Pao-ch'ai, but as it happened, Pao-ch'ai was not in +the garden, but had gone to look up her mother. Hsi Jen, however, could +not very well come back with empty hands so she waited until the second +watch, when Pao-ch'ai eventually returned to her quarters. + +Indeed, so correct an estimate of Hsueeh P'an's natural disposition did +Pao-ch'ai ever have, that from an early moment she entertained within +herself some faint suspicion that it must have been Hsueeh P'an, who had +instigated some person or other to come and lodge a complaint against +Pao-yue. And when she also unexpectedly heard Hsi Jen's disclosures on +the subject, she became more positive in her surmises. The one, who had, +in fact, told Hsi Jen was Pei Ming. But Pei Ming too had arrived at the +conjecture in his own mind, and could not adduce any definite proof, so +that every one treated his statements as founded partly on mere +suppositions, and partly on actual facts; but, despite this, they felt +quite certain that it was (Hsueeh P'an) who had intrigued. + +Hsueeh P'an had always enjoyed this reputation; but on this particular +instance the harm was not, actually, his own doing; yet as every one, +with one consent, tenaciously affirmed that it was he, it was no easy +matter for him, much though he might argue, to clear himself of blame. + +Soon after his return, on this day, from a drinking bout out of doors, +he came to see his mother; but finding Pao-ch'ai in her rooms, they +exchanged a few irrelevant remarks. "I hear," he consequently asked, +"that cousin Pao-yue has got into trouble; why is it?" + +Mrs. Hsueeh was at the time much distressed on this score. As soon +therefore as she caught this question, she gnashed her teeth with rage, +and shouted: "You good-for-nothing spiteful fellow! It's all you who are +at the bottom of this trouble; and do you still have the face to come +and ply me with questions?" + +These words made Hsueeh P'an wince. "When did I stir up any trouble?" he +quickly asked. + +"Do you still go on shamming!" cried Mrs. Hsueeh. "Every one knows full +well that it was you, who said those things, and do you yet +prevaricate?" + +"Were every one," insinuated Hsueeh P'an, "to assert that I had committed +murder, would you believe even that?" + +"Your very sister is well aware that they were said by you." Mrs. Hsueeh +continued, "and is it likely that she would accuse you falsely, pray?" + +"Mother," promptly interposed Pao-ch'ai, "you shouldn't be brawling with +brother just now! If you wait quietly, we'll find out the plain and +honest truth." Then turning towards Hsueeh P'an: "Whether it's you, who +said those things or not," she added, "it's of no consequence. The whole +affair, besides, is a matter of the past, so what need is there for any +arguments; they will only be making a mountain of a mole-hill! I have +just one word of advice to give you; don't, from henceforward, be up to +so much reckless mischief outside; and concern yourself a little less +with other people's affairs! All you do is day after day to associate +with your friends and foolishly gad about! You are a happy-go-lucky sort +of creature! If nothing happens well and good; but should by and bye +anything turn up, every one will, though it be none of your doing, +imagine again that you are at the bottom of it! Not to speak of others, +why I myself will be the first to suspect you!" + +Hsueeh P'an was naturally open-hearted and plain-spoken, and could not +brook anything in the way of innuendoes, so, when on the one side, +Pao-ch'ai advised him not to foolishly gad about, and his mother, on the +other, hinted that he had a foul tongue, and that he was the cause that +Pao-yue had been flogged, he at once got so exasperated that he jumped +about in an erratic manner and did all in his power, by vowing and +swearing, to explain matters. "Who has," he ejaculated, heaping abuse +upon every one, "laid such a tissue of lies to my charge! I'd like to +take the teeth of that felon and pull them out! It's clear as day that +they shove me forward as a target; for now that Pao-yue has been flogged +they find no means of making a display of their zeal. But, is Pao-yue +forsooth the lord of the heavens that because he has had a thrashing +from his father, the whole household should be fussing for days? The +other time, he behaved improperly, and my uncle gave him two whacks. But +our venerable ancestor came, after a time, somehow or other, I don't +know how, to hear about it, and, maintaining that it was all due to Mr. +Chia Chen, she called him before her, and gave him a good blowing up. +And here to-day, they have gone further, and involved me. They may drag +me in as much as they like, I don't fear a rap! But won't it be better +for me to go into the garden, and take Pao-yue and give him a bit of my +mind and kill him? I can then pay the penalty by laying down my life for +his, and one and all will enjoy peace and quiet!" + +While he clamoured and shouted, he looked about him for the bar of the +door, and, snatching it up, he there and then was running off, to the +consternation of Mrs. Hsueeh, who clutched him in her arms. "You +murderous child of retribution!" she cried. "Whom would you go and beat? +come first and assail me?" + +From excitement Hsueeh P'an's eyes protruded like copper bells. "What are +you up to," he vociferated, "that you won't let me go where I please, +and that you deliberately go on calumniating me? But every day that +Pao-yue lives, the longer by that day I have to bear a false charge, so +it's as well that we should both die that things be cleared up?" + +Pao-ch'ai too hurriedly rushed forward. "Be patient a bit!" she exhorted +him. "Here's mamma in an awful state of despair. Not to mention that it +should be for you to come and pacify her, you contrariwise kick up all +this rumpus! Why, saying nothing about her who is your parent, were even +a perfect stranger to advise you, it would be meant for your good! But +the good counsel she gave you has stirred up your monkey instead." + +"From the way you're now speaking," Hsueeh P'an rejoined, "it must be +you, who said that it was I; no one else but you!" + +"You simply know how to feel displeased with me for speaking," argued +Pao-ch'ai, "but you don't feel displeased with yourself for that +reckless way of yours of looking ahead and not minding what is behind!" + +"You now bear me a grudge," Hsueeh P'an added, "for looking to what is +ahead and not to what is behind; but how is it you don't feel indignant +with Pao-yue for stirring up strife and provoking trouble outside? +Leaving aside everything else, I'll merely take that affair of Ch'i +Kuan-erh's, which occurred the other day, and recount it to you as an +instance. My friends and I came across this Ch'i Kuan-erh, ten times at +least, but never has he made a single intimate remark to me, and how is +it that, as soon as he met Pao-yue the other day, he at once produced his +sash, and gave it to him, though he did not so much as know what his +surname and name were? Now is it likely, forsooth, that this too was +something that I started?" + +"Do you still refer to this?" exclaimed Mrs. Hsueeh and Pao-ch'ai, out of +patience. "Wasn't it about this that he was beaten? This makes it clear +enough that it's you who gave the thing out." + +"Really, you're enough to exasperate one to death!" Hsueeh P'an +exclaimed. "Had you confined yourselves to saying that I had started the +yarn, I wouldn't have lost my temper; but what irritates me is that such +a fuss should be made for a single Pao-yue, as to subvert heaven and +earth!" + +"Who fusses?" shouted Pao-ch'ai. "You are the first to arm yourself to +the teeth and start a row, and then you say that it's others who are up +to mischief!" + +Hsueeh P'an, seeing that every remark, made by Pao-ch'ai, contained so +much reasonableness that he could with difficulty refute it, and that +her words were even harder for him to reply to than were those uttered +by his mother, he was consequently bent upon contriving a plan to make +use of such language as could silence her and compel her to return to +her room, so as to have no one bold enough to interfere with his +speaking; but, his temper being up, he was not in a position to weigh +his speech. "Dear Sister!" he readily therefore said, "you needn't be +flying into a huff with me! I've long ago divined your feelings. Mother +told me some time back that for you with that gold trinket, must be +selected some suitor provided with a jade one; as such a one will be a +suitable match for you. And having treasured this in your mind, and seen +that Pao-yue has that rubbishy thing of his, you naturally now seize +every occasion to screen him...." + +However, before he could finish, Pao-ch'ai trembled with anger, and +clinging to Mrs. Hsueeh, she melted into tears. "Mother," she observed, +"have you heard what brother says, what is it all about?" + +Hsueeh P'an, at the sight of his sister bathed in tears, became alive to +the fact that he had spoken inconsiderately, and, flying into a rage, he +walked away to his own quarters and retired to rest. But we can well +dispense with any further comment on the subject. + +Pao-ch'ai was, at heart, full of vexation and displeasure. She meant to +give vent to her feelings in some way, but the fear again of upsetting +her mother compelled her to conceal her tears. She therefore took leave +of her parent, and went back all alone. On her return to her chamber, +she sobbed and sobbed throughout the whole night. The next day, she got +out of bed, as soon as it dawned; but feeling even no inclination to +comb her chevelure or perform her ablutions, she carelessly adjusted her +clothes and came out of the garden to see her mother. + +As luck would have it, she encountered Tai-yue standing alone under the +shade of the trees, who inquired of her: "Where she was off to?" + +"I'm going home," Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai replied. And as she uttered these +words, she kept on her way. + +But Tai-yue perceived that she was going off in a disconsolate mood; and, +noticing that her eyes betrayed signs of crying, and that her manner was +unlike that of other days, she smilingly called out to her from behind: +"Sister, you should take care of yourself a bit. Were you even to cry so +much as to fill two water jars with tears, you wouldn't heal the wounds +inflicted by the cane." + +But as what reply Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai gave is not yet known to you, reader, +lend an ear to the explanation contained in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + Pai Yue-ch'uan tastes too the lotus-leaf soup. + Huang Chin-ying skilfully plaits the plum-blossom-knotted nets. + + +Pao ch'ai had, our story goes, distinctly heard Lin Tai-yue's sneer, but +in her eagerness to see her mother and brother, she did not so much as +turn her head round, but continued straight on her way. + +During this time, Lin Tai-yue halted under the shadow of the trees. Upon +casting a glance, in the distance towards the I Hung Yuean, she observed +Li Kung-ts'ai, Ying Ch'un, T'an Ch'un, Hsi Ch'un and various inmates +wending their steps in a body in the direction of the I Hung court; but +after they had gone past, and company after company of them had +dispersed, she only failed to see lady Feng come. "How is it," she +cogitated within herself, "that she doesn't come to see Pao-yue? Even +supposing that there was some business to detain her, she should also +have put in an appearance, so as to curry favour with our venerable +senior and Madame Wang. But if she hasn't shown herself at this hour of +the day, there must certainly be some cause or other." + +While preoccupied with conjectures, she raised her head. At a second +glance, she discerned a crowd of people, as thick as flowers in a +bouquet, pursuing their way also into the I Hung court. On looking +fixedly, she recognised dowager lady Chia, leaning on lady Feng's arm, +followed by Mesdames Hsing and Wang, Mrs. Chou and servant-girls, +married women and other domestics. In a body they walked into the court. +At the sight of them, Tai-yue unwittingly nodded her head, and reflected +on the benefit of having a father and mother; and tears forthwith again +bedewed her face. In a while, she beheld Pao-ch'ai, Mrs. Hsueeh and the +rest likewise go in. + +But at quite an unexpected moment she became aware that Tzu Chuean was +approaching her from behind. "Miss," she said, "you had better go and +take your medicine! The hot water too has got cold." + +"What do you, after all, mean by keeping on pressing me so?" inquired +Tai-yue. "Whether I have it or not, what's that to you?" + +"Your cough," smiled Tzu Chuean, "has recently got a trifle better, and +won't you again take your medicine? This is, it's true, the fifth moon, +and the weather is hot, but you should, nevertheless, take good care of +yourself a bit! Here you've been at this early hour of the morning +standing for ever so long in this damp place; so you should go back and +have some rest!" + +This single hint recalled Tai-yue to her senses. She at length realised +that her legs felt rather tired. After lingering about abstractedly for +a long while, she quietly returned into the Hsiao Hsiang lodge, +supporting herself on Tzu Chuean. As soon as they stepped inside the +entrance of the court, her gaze was attracted by the confused shadows of +the bamboos, which covered the ground, and the traces of moss, here +thick, there thin, and she could not help recalling to mind those two +lines of the passage in the Hsi Hsiang Chi: + + "In that lone nook some one saunters about, + White dew coldly bespecks the verdant moss." + +"Shuang Wen," she consequently secretly communed within herself, as she +sighed, "had of course a poor fate; but she nevertheless had a widowed +mother and a young brother; but in the unhappy destiny, to which I, +Tai-yue, am at present doomed, I have neither a widowed mother nor a +young brother." + +At this point in her reflections, she was about to melt into another fit +of crying, when of a sudden, the parrot under the verandah caught sight +of Tai-yue approaching, and, with a shriek, he jumped down from his +perch, and made her start with fright. + +"Are you bent upon compassing your own death!" she exclaimed. "You've +covered my head all over with dust again!" + +The parrot flew back to his perch. "Hsueeh Yen," he kept on shouting, +"quick, raise the portiere! Miss is come!" + +Tai-yue stopped short and rapped on the frame with her hand. "Have his +food and water been replenished?" she asked. + +The parrot forthwith heaved a deep sigh, closely resembling, in sound, +the groans usually indulged in by Tai-yue, and then went on to recite: + + "Here I am fain these flowers to inter, but humankind will laugh me as + a fool." + Who knows who will in years to come commit me to my grave. + +As soon as these lines fell on the ear of Tai-yue and Tzu Chuean, they +blurted out laughing. + +"This is what you were repeating some time back, Miss." Tzu Chuean +laughed, "How did he ever manage to commit it to memory?" + +Tai-yue then directed some one to take down the frame and suspend it +instead on a hook, outside the circular window, and presently entering +her room, she seated herself inside the circular window. She had just +done drinking her medicine, when she perceived that the shade cast by +the cluster of bamboos, planted outside the window, was reflected so far +on the gauze lattice as to fill the room with a faint light, so green +and mellow, and to impart a certain coolness to the teapoys and mats. +But Tai-yue had no means at hand to dispel her ennui, so from inside the +gauze lattice, she instigated the parrot to perform his pranks; and +selecting some verses, which had ever found favour with her, she tried +to teach them to him. + +But without descending to particulars, let us now advert to Hsueeh +Pao-ch'ai. On her return home, she found her mother alone combing her +hair and having a wash. "Why do you run over at this early hour of the +morning?" she speedily inquired when she saw her enter. + +"To see," replied Pao-ch'ai, "whether you were all right or not, mother. +Did he come again, I wonder, after I left yesterday and make any more +trouble or not?" + +As she spoke, she sat by her mother's side, but unable to curb her +tears, she began to weep. + +Seeing her sobbing, Mrs. Hsueeh herself could not check her feelings, and +she, too, burst out into a fit of crying. "My child," she simultaneously +exhorted her, "don't feel aggrieved! Wait, and I'll call that child of +wrath to order; for were anything to happen to you, from whom will I +have anything to hope?" + +Hsueeh P'an was outside and happened to overhear their conversation, so +with alacrity he ran over, and facing Pao-ch'ai he made a bow, now to +the left and now to the right, observing the while: "My dear sister, +forgive me this time. The fact is that I took some wine yesterday; I +came back late, as I met a few friends on the way. On my return home, I +hadn't as yet got over the fumes, so I unintentionally talked a lot of +nonsense. But I don't so much as remember anything about all I said. It +isn't worth your while, however, losing your temper over such a thing!" + +Pao-ch'ai was, in fact, weeping, as she covered her face, but the moment +this language fell on her ear, she could scarcely again refrain from +laughing. Forthwith raising her head, she sputtered contemptuously on +the ground. "You can well dispense with all this sham!" she exclaimed, +"I'm well aware that you so dislike us both, that you're anxious to +devise some way of inducing us to part company with you, so that you may +be at liberty." + +Hsueeh P'an, at these words, hastened to smile. "Sister," he argued, +"what makes you say so? once upon a time, you weren't so suspicious and +given to uttering anything so perverse!" + +Mrs. Hsueeh hurriedly took up the thread of the conversation. "All you +know," she interposed, "is to find fault with your sister's remarks as +being perverse; but can it be that what you said last night was the +proper thing to say? In very truth, you were drunk!" + +"There's no need for you to get angry, mother!" Hsueeh P'an rejoined, +"nor for you sister either; for from this day, I shan't any more make +common cause with them nor drink wine or gad about. What do you say to +that?" + +"That's equal to an acknowledgment of your failings," Pao-ch'ai laughed. + +"Could you exercise such strength of will," added Mrs. Hsueeh, "why, the +dragon too would lay eggs." + +"If I again go and gad about with them," Hsueeh P'an replied, "and you, +sister, come to hear of it, you can freely spit in my face and call me a +beast and no human being. Do you agree to that? But why should you two +be daily worried; and all through me alone? For you, mother, to be angry +on my account is anyhow excusable; but for me to keep on worrying you, +sister, makes me less then ever worthy of the name of a human being! If +now that father is no more, I manage, instead of showing you plenty of +filial piety, mamma, and you, sister, plenty of love, to provoke my +mother to anger, and annoy my sister, why I can't compare myself to even +a four-footed creature!" + +While from his mouth issued these words, tears rolled down from his +eyes; for he too found it hard to contain them. + +Mrs. Hsueeh had not at first been overcome by her feelings; but the +moment his utterances reached her ear, she once more began to experience +the anguish, which they stirred in her heart. + +Pao-ch'ai made an effort to force a smile. "You've already," she said, +"been the cause of quite enough trouble, and do you now provoke mother +to have another cry?" + +Hearing this, Hsueeh P'an promptly checked his tears. As he put on a +smiling expression, "When did I," he asked, "make mother cry? But never +mind; enough of this! let's drop the matter, and not allude to it any +more! Call Hsiang Ling to come and give you a cup of tea, sister!" + +"I don't want any tea." Pao-ch'ai answered. "I'll wait until mother has +finished washing her hands and then go with her into the garden." + +"Let me see your necklet, sister," Hsueeh P'an continued. "I think it +requires cleaning." + +"It is so yellow and bright," rejoined Pao-ch'ai, "and what's the use of +cleaning it again?" + +"Sister," proceeded Hsueeh P'an, "you must now add a few more clothes to +your wardrobe, so tell me what colour and what design you like best." + +"I haven't yet worn out all the clothes I have," Pao-ch'ai explained, +"and why should I have more made?" + +But, in a little time, Mrs. Hsueeh effected the change in her costume, +and hand in hand with Pao-ch'ai, she started on her way to the garden. + +Hsueeh P'an thereupon took his departure. During this while, Mrs. Hsueeh +and Pao-ch'ai trudged in the direction of the garden to look up Pao-yue. +As soon as they reached the interior of the I Hung court, they saw a +large concourse of waiting-maids and matrons standing inside as well as +outside the antechambers and they readily concluded that old lady Chia +and the other ladies were assembled in his rooms. Mrs. Hsueeh and her +daughter stepped in. After exchanging salutations with every one +present, they noticed that Pao-yue was reclining on the couch and Mrs. +Hsueeh inquired of him whether he felt any better. + +Pao-yue hastily attempted to bow. "I'm considerably better;" he said. +"All I do," he went on, "is to disturb you, aunt, and you, my cousin, +but I don't deserve such attentions." + +Mrs. Hsueeh lost no time in supporting and laying him down. "Mind you +tell me whatever may take your fancy!" she proceeded. + +"If I do fancy anything," retorted Pao-yue smilingly, "I shall certainly +send to you, aunt, for it." + +"What would you like to eat," likewise inquired Madame Wang, "so that I +may, on my return, send it round to you?" + +"There's nothing that I care for," smiled Pao-yue, "though the soup made +for me the other day, with young lotus leaves, and small lotus cores +was, I thought, somewhat nice." + +"From what I hear, its flavour is nothing very grand," lady Feng chimed +in laughingly, from where she stood on one side. "It involves, however, +a good deal of trouble to concoct; and here you deliberately go and +fancy this very thing." + +"Go and get it ready!" cried dowager lady Chia several successive times. + +"Venerable ancestor," urged lady Feng with a smile, "don't you bother +yourself about it! Let me try and remember who can have put the moulds +away!" Then turning her head round, "Go and bid," she enjoined an old +matron, "the chief in the cook-house go and apply for them!" + +After a considerable lapse of time, the matron returned. "The chief in +the cook-house," she explained, "says that the four sets of moulds for +soups have all been handed up." + +Upon hearing this, lady Feng thought again for a while. "Yes, I +remember," she afterwards remarked, "they were handed up, but I can't +recollect to whom they were given. Possibly they're in the tea-room." + +Thereupon, she also despatched a servant to go and inquire of the keeper +of the tea-room about them; but he too had not got them; and it was +subsequently the butler, entrusted with the care of the gold and silver +articles, who brought them round. + +Mrs. Hsueeh was the first to take them and examine them. What, in fact, +struck her gaze was a small box, the contents of which were four sets of +silver moulds. Each of these was over a foot long, and one square inch +(in breadth). On the top, holes were bored of the size of beans. Some +resembled chrysanthemums, others plum blossom. Some were in the shape of +lotus seed-cases, others like water chestnuts. They numbered in all +thirty or forty kinds, and were ingeniously executed. + +"In your mansion," she felt impelled to observe smilingly to old lady +Chia and Madame Wang, "everything has been amply provided for! Have you +got all these things to prepare a plate of soup with! Hadn't you told +me, and I happened to see them, I wouldn't have been able to make out +what they were intended for!" + +Lady Feng did not allow time to any one to put in her word. "Aunt," she +said, "how could you ever have divined that these were used last year +for the imperial viands! They thought of a way by which they devised, +somehow or other, I can't tell how, some dough shapes, which borrow a +little of the pure fragrance of the new lotus leaves. But as all mainly +depends upon the quality of the soup, they're not, after all, of much +use! Yet who often goes in for such soup! It was made once only, and +that at the time when the moulds were brought; and how is it that he has +come to think of it to-day?" So speaking, she took (the moulds), and +handed them to a married woman, to go and issue directions to the people +in the cook-house to procure at once several fowls, and to add other +ingredients besides and prepare ten bowls of soup. + +"What do you want all that lot for?" observed Madame Wang. + +"There's good reason for it," answered lady Feng. "A dish of this kind +isn't, at ordinary times, very often made, and were, now that brother +Pao-yue has alluded to it, only sufficient prepared for him, and none for +you, dear senior, you, aunt, and you, Madame Wang, it won't be quite the +thing! So isn't it better that this opportunity should be availed of to +get ready a whole supply so that every one should partake of some, and +that even I should, through my reliance on your kind favour, taste this +novel kind of relish." + +"You are sharper than a monkey!" Dowager lady Chia laughingly exclaimed +in reply to her proposal. "You make use of public money to confer boons +upon people." + +This remark evoked general laughter. + +"This is a mere bagatelle!" eagerly laughed lady Feng. "Even I can +afford to stand you such a small treat!" Then turning her head round, +"Tell them in the cook-house," she said to a married woman, "to please +make an extra supply, and that they'll get the money from me." + +The matron assented and went out of the room. + +Pao-ch'ai, who was standing near, thereupon interposed with a smile. +"During the few years that have gone by since I've come here, I've +carefully noticed that sister-in-law Secunda, cannot, with all her +acumen, outwit our venerable ancestor." + +"My dear child!" forthwith replied old lady Chia at these words. "I'm +now quite an old woman, and how can there still remain any wit in me! +When I was, long ago, of your manlike cousin Feng's age, I had far more +wits about me than she has! Albeit she now avers that she can't reach +our standard, she's good enough; and compared with your aunt Wang, why, +she's infinitely superior. Your aunt, poor thing, won't speak much! +She's like a block of wood; and when with her father and mother-in-law, +she won't show herself off to advantage. But that girl Feng has a sharp +tongue, so is it a wonder if people take to her." + +"From what you say," insinuated Pao-yue with a smile, "those who don't +talk much are not loved." + +"Those who don't speak much," resumed dowager lady Chia, "possess the +endearing quality of reserve. But among those, with glib tongues, +there's also a certain despicable lot; thus it's better, in a word, not +to have too much to say for one's self." + +"Quite so," smiled Pao-yue, "yet though senior sister-in-law Chia Chu +doesn't, I must confess, talk much, you, venerable ancestor, treat her +just as you do cousin Feng. But if you maintain that those alone, who +can talk, are worthy of love, then among all these young ladies, sister +Feng and cousin Lin are the only ones good enough to be loved." + +"With regard to the young ladies," remarked dowager lady Chia, "it isn't +that I have any wish to flatter your aunt Hsueeh in her presence, but it +is a positive and incontestable fact that there isn't, beginning from +the four girls in our household, a single one able to hold a candle to +that girl Pao-ch'ai." + +At these words, Mrs. Hsueeh promptly smiled. "Dear venerable senior!" she +said, "you're rather partial in your verdict." + +"Our dear senior," vehemently put in Madame Wang, also smiling, "has +often told me in private how nice your daughter Pao-ch'ai is; so this is +no lie." + +Pao-yue had tried to lead old lady Chia on, originally with the idea of +inducing her to speak highly of Lin Tai-yue, but when unawares she began +to eulogise Pao-ch'ai instead the result exceeded all his thoughts and +went far beyond his expectations. Forthwith he cast a glance at +Pao-chai, and gave her a smile, but Pao-chai at once twisted her head +round and went and chatted with Hsi Jen. But of a sudden, some one came +to ask them to go and have their meal. Dowager lady Chia rose to her +feet, and enjoined Pao-yue to be careful of himself. She then gave a few +directions to the waiting-maids, and resting her weight on lady Feng's +arm, and pressing Mrs. Hsueeh to go out first, she, and all with her, +left the apartment in a body. But still she kept on inquiring whether +the soup was ready or not. "If there's anything you might fancy to eat," +she also said to Mrs. Hsueeh and the others, "mind you, come and tell me, +and I know how to coax that hussey Feng to get it for you as well as +me." + +"My venerable senior!" rejoined Mrs. Hsueeh, "you do have the happy knack +of putting her on her mettle; but though she has often got things ready +for you, you've, after all, not eaten very much of them." + +"Aunt," smiled lady Feng, "don't make such statements! If our worthy +senior hasn't eaten me up it's purely and simply because she dislikes +human flesh as being sour. Did she not look down upon it as sour, why, +she would long ago have gobbled me up!" + +This joke was scarcely ended, when it so tickled the fancy of old lady +Chia and all the inmates that they broke out with one voice in a +boisterous fit of laughter. Even Pao-yue, who was inside the room, could +not keep quiet. + +"Really," Hsi Jen laughed, "the mouth of our mistress Secunda is enough +to terrify people to death!" + +Pao-yue put out his arm and pulled Hsi Jen. "You've been standing for so +long," he smiled, "that you must be feeling tired." + +Saying this, he dragged her down and made her take a seat next to him. + +"Here you've again forgotten!" laughingly exclaimed Hsi Jen. "Avail +yourself now that Miss Pao-ch'ai is in the court to tell her to kindly +bid their Ying Erh come and plait a few girdles with twisted cords." + +"How lucky it is you've reminded me?" Pao-yue observed with a smile. And +putting, while he spoke, his head out of the window: "Cousin Pao-ch'ai," +he cried, "when you've had your repast, do tell Ying Erh to come over. I +would like to ask her to plait a few girdles for me. Has she got the +time to spare?" + +Pao-ch'ai heard him speak; and turning round: "How about no time?" she +answered. "I'll tell her by and bye to come; it will be all right." + +Dowager lady Chia and the others, however, failed to catch distinctly +the drift of their talk; and they halted and made inquiries of Pao-ch'ai +what it was about. Pao-ch'ai gave them the necessary explanations. + +"My dear child," remarked old lady Chia, "do let her come and twist a +few girdles for your cousin! And should you be in need of any one for +anything, I have over at my place a whole number of servant-girls doing +nothing! Out of them, you are at liberty to send for any you like to +wait on you!" + +"We'll send her to plait them!" Mrs. Hsueeh and Pao-ch'ai observed +smilingly with one consent. "What can we want her for? she also daily +idles her time way and is up to every mischief!" + +But chatting the while, they were about to proceed on their way when +they unexpectedly caught sight of Hsiang-yuen, P'ing Erh, Hsiang Lin and +other girls picking balsam flowers near the rocks; who, as soon as they +saw the company approaching, advanced to welcome them. + +Shortly, they all sallied out of the garden. Madame Wang was worrying +lest dowager lady Chia's strength might be exhausted, and she did her +utmost to induce her to enter the drawing room and sit down. Old lady +Chia herself was feeling her legs quite tired out, so she at once nodded +her head and expressed her assent. Madame Wang then directed a +waiting-maid to hurriedly precede them, and get ready the seats. But as +Mrs. Chao had, about this time, pleaded indisposition, there was only +therefore Mrs. Chou, with the matrons and servant-girls at hand, so they +had ample to do to raise the portieres, to put the back-cushions in +their places, and to spread out the rugs. + +Dowager lady Chia stepped into the room, leaning on lady Feng's arm. She +and Mrs. Hsueeh took their places, with due regard to the distinction +between hostess and visitors; and Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai and Shih Hsiang-yuen +seated themselves below. Madame Wang then came forward, and presented +with her own hands tea to old lady Chia, while Li Kung-ts'ai handed a +cup to Mrs. Hsueeh. + +"You'd better let those young sisters-in law do the honours," +remonstrated old lady Chia, "and sit over there so that we may be able +to have a chat." + +Madame Wang at length sat on a small bench. "Let our worthy senior's +viands," she cried, addressing herself to lady Feng, "be served here. +And let a few more things be brought!" + +Lady Feng acquiesced without delay, and she told a servant to cross over +to their old mistress' quarters and to bid the matrons, employed in that +part of the household, promptly go out and summon the waiting-girls. The +various waiting-maids arrived with all despatch. Madame Wang directed +them to ask their young ladies round. But after a protracted absence on +the errand, only two of the girls turned up: T'an Ch'un and Hsi Ch'un. +Ying Ch'un, was not, in her state of health, equal to the fatigue, or +able to put anything in her mouth, and Lin Tai-yue, superfluous to add, +could only safely partake of five out of ten meals, so no one thought +anything of their non-appearance. Presently the eatables were brought, +and the servants arranged them in their proper places on the table. + +Lady Feng took a napkin and wrapped a bundle of chopsticks in it. +"Venerable ancestor and you, Mrs. Hsueeh," she smiled, standing the while +below, "there's no need of any yielding! Just you listen to me and I'll +make things all right." + +"Let's do as she wills!" old lady Chia remarked to Mrs. Hsueeh +laughingly. + +Mrs. Hsueeh signified her approval with a smile; so lady Feng placed, in +due course, four pairs of chopsticks on the table; the two pairs on the +upper end for dowager lady Chia and Mrs. Hsueeh; those on the two sides +for Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai and Shih Hsiang-yuen. Madame Wang, Li Kung-ts'ai and +a few others, stood together below and watched the attendants serve the +viands. Lady Feng first and foremost hastily asked for clean utensils, +and drew near the table to select some eatables for Pao-yue. Presently, +the soup _a la_ lotus leaves arrived. After old lady Chia had well +scrutinised it, Madame Wang turned her head, and catching sight of Yue +Ch'uan-erh, she immediately commissioned her to take some over to +Pao-yue. + +"She can't carry it single-handed," demurred lady Feng. + +But by a strange coincidence, Ying Erh then walked into the room along +with Hsi Erh, and Pao-ch'ai knowing very well that they had already had +their meal forthwith said to Ying Erh: "Your Master Secundus, Mr. +Pao-yue, just asked that you should go and twist a few girdles for him; +so you two might as well proceed together!" + +Ying Erh expressed her readiness and left the apartment, in company with +Yue Ch'uan-erh. + +"How can you carry it, so very hot as it is, the whole way there?" +observed Ying Erh. + +"Don't distress yourself!" rejoined Yue Ch'uan smiling. "I know how to do +it." + +Saying this, she directed a matron to come and place the soup, rice and +the rest of the eatables in a present box; and bidding her lay hold of +it and follow them, the two girls sped on their way with empty hands, +and made straight for the entrance of the I Hung court. Here Yue +Ch'uan-erh at length took the things herself, and entered the room in +company with Ying Erh. The trio, Hsi Jen, She Yueeh and Ch'iu Wen were at +the time chatting and laughing with Pao-yue; but the moment they saw +their two friends arrive they speedily jumped to their feet. "How is +it," they exclaimed laughingly, "that you two drop in just the nick of +time? Have you come together?" + +With these words on their lips, they descended to greet them. Yue Ch'uan +took at once a seat on a small stool. Ying Erh, however, did not presume +to seat herself; and though Hsi Jen was quick enough in moving a +foot-stool for her, Ying Erh did not still venture to sit down. + +Ying Erh's arrival filled Pao-yue with intense delight. But as soon as he +noticed Yue Ch'uan-erh, he recalled to memory her sister Chin Ch'uan-erh, +and he felt wounded to the very heart, and overpowered with shame. And, +without troubling his mind about Ying Erh, he addressed his remarks to +Yue Ch'uan-erh. + +Hsi Jen saw very well that Ying Erh failed to attract his attention and +she began to fear lest she felt uncomfortable; and when she further +realised that Ying Erh herself would not take a seat, she drew her out +of the room and repaired with her into the outer apartment, where they +had a chat over their tea. + +She Yueeh and her companions had, in the meantime, got the bowls and +chopsticks ready and came to wait upon (Pao-yue) during his meal. But +Pao-yue would not have anything to eat. "Is your mother all right," he +forthwith inquired of Yue Ch'uan-erh. + +An angry scowl crept over Yue Ch'uan-erh's face. She did not even look +straight at Pao-yue. And only after a long pause was it that she at last +uttered merely the words, "all right," by way of reply. Pao-yue, +therefore, found talking to her of little zest. But after a protracted +silence he felt impelled to again force a smile, and to ask: "Who told +you to bring these things over to me?" + +"The ladies," answered Yue Chuan-erh. + +Pao-yue discerned the mournful expression, which still beclouded her +countenance and he readily jumped at the conclusion that it must be +entirely occasioned by the fate which had befallen Chin Ch'uan-erh, but +when fain to put on a meek and unassuming manner, and endeavour to cheer +her, he saw how little he could demean himself in the presence of so +many people, and consequently he did his best and discovered the means +of getting every one out of the way. Afterwards, straining another +smile, he plied her with all sorts of questions. + +Yue Ch'uan-erh, it is true, did not at first choose to heed his advances, +yet when she observed that Pao-yue did not put on any airs, and, that in +spite of all her querulous reproaches, he still continued pleasant and +agreeable, she felt disconcerted and her features at last assumed a +certain expression of cheerfulness. Pao-yue thereupon smiled. "My dear +girl," he said, as he gave way to entreaties, "bring that soup and let +me taste it!" + +"I've never been in the habit of feeding people," Yue Ch'uan-erh replied. +"You'd better wait till the others return; you can have some then." + +"I don't want you to feed me," laughed Pao-yue. "It's because I can't +move about that I appeal to you. Do let me have it! You'll then get back +early and be able, when you've handed over the things, to have your +meal. But were I to go on wasting your time, won't you feel upset from +hunger? Should you be lazy to budge, well then, I'll endure the pain and +get down and fetch it myself." + +As he spoke, he tried to alight from bed. He strained every nerve, and +raised himself, but unable to stand the exertion, he burst out into +groans. At the sight of his anguish, Yue Ch'uan-erh had not the heart to +refuse her help. Springing up, "Lie down!" she cried. "In what former +existence did you commit such evil that your retribution in the present +one is so apparent? Which of my eyes however can brook looking at you +going on in that way?" + +While taunting him, she again blurted out laughing, and brought the soup +over to him. + +"My dear girl;" smiled Pao-yue, "if you want to show temper, better do so +here! When you see our venerable senior and madame, my mother, you +should be a little more even-tempered, for if you still behave like +this, you'll at once get a scolding!" + +"Eat away, eat away!" urged Yue Ch'uan-erh. "There's no need for you to +be so sweet-mouthed and honey-tongued with me. I don't put any faith in +such talk!" + +So speaking, she pressed Pao-yue until he had two mouthfuls of soup. "It +isn't nice, it isn't nice!" Pao-yue purposely exclaimed. + +"Omi-to-fu!" ejaculated Yue Ch'uan-erh. "If this isn't nice, what's +nice?" + +"There's no flavour about it at all," resumed Pao-yue. "If you don't +believe me taste it, and you'll find out for yourself." + +Yue Ch'uan-erh in a tantrum actually put some of it to her lips. + +"Well," laughed Pao-yue, "it is nice!" + +This exclamation eventually enabled Yue Ch'uan to see what Pao-yue was +driving at, for Pao-yue had in fact been trying to beguile her to have a +mouthful. + +"As, at one moment, you say you don't want any," she forthwith observed, +"and now you say it is nice, I won't give you any." + +While Pao-yue returned her smiles, he kept on earnestly entreating her to +let him have some. + +Yue Ch'uan-erh however would still not give him any; and she, at the same +time, called to the servants to fetch what there was for him to eat. But +the instant the waiting-maid put her foot into the room, servants came +quite unexpectedly to deliver a message. + +"Two nurses," they said, "have arrived from the household of Mr. Fu, +Secundus, to present his compliments. They have now come to see you, Mr. +Secundus." As soon as Pao-yue heard this report, he felt sure that they +must be nurses sent over from the household of Deputy Sub-Prefect, Fu +Shih. + +This Fu Shih had originally been a pupil of Chia Cheng, and had, indeed, +had to rely entirely upon the reputation enjoyed by the Chia family for +the realisation of his wishes. Chia Cheng had, likewise, treated him +with such genuine regard, and so unlike any of his other pupils, that he +(Fu Shih) ever and anon despatched inmates from his mansion to come and +see him so as to keep up friendly relations. + +Pao-yue had at all times entertained an aversion for bold-faced men and +unsophisticated women, so why did he once more, on this occasion, issue +directions that the two matrons should be introduced into his presence? +There was, in fact, a reason for his action. It was simply that Pao-yue +had come to learn that Fu Shih had a sister, Ch'iu-fang by name, a girl +as comely as a magnificent gem, and perfection itself, the report of +outside people went, as much in intellect as in beauty. He had, it is +true, not yet seen anything of her with his own eyes, but the +sentiments, which made him think of her and cherish her, from a +distance, were characterised by such extreme sincerity, that dreading +lest he should, by refusing to admit the matrons, reflect discredit upon +Fu Ch'iu-fang, he was prompted to lose no time in expressing a wish that +they should be ushered in. + +This Fu Shih had really risen from the vulgar herd, so seeing that +Ch'iu-fang possessed several traits of beauty and exceptional +intellectual talents, Fu Shih arrived at the resolution of making his +sister the means of joining relationship with the influential family of +some honourable clan. And so unwilling was he to promise her lightly to +any suitor that things were delayed up to this time. Therefore Fu +Ch'iu-fang, though at present past her twentieth birthday, was not as +yet engaged. But the various well-to-do families, belonging to +honourable clans, looked down, on the other hand, on her poor and mean +extraction, holding her in such light esteem, as not to relish the idea +of making any offer for her hand. So if Fu Shih cultivated intimate +terms with the Chia household, he, needless to add, did so with an +interested motive. + +The two matrons, deputed on the present errand, completely lacked, as it +happened, all knowledge of the world, and the moment they heard that +Pao-yue wished to see them, they wended their steps inside. But no sooner +had they inquired how he was, and passed a few remarks than Yue +Ch'uan-erh, becoming conscious of the arrival of strangers, did not +bandy words with Pao-yue, but stood with the plate of soup in her hands, +engrossed in listening to the conversation. Pao-yue, again, was absorbed +in speaking to the matrons; and, while eating some rice, he stretched +out his arm to get at the soup; but both his and her (Yue Ch'uan-erh's) +eyes were rivetted on the women, and as he thoughtlessly jerked out his +hand with some violence, he struck the bowl and turned it clean over. +The soup fell over Pao-yue's hand. But it did not hurt Yue Ch'uan-erh. She +sustained, however, such a fright that she gave a start. + +"How did this happen!" she smilingly shouted with vehemence to the +intense consternation of the waiting-maids, who rushed up and clasped +the bowl. But notwithstanding that Pao-yue had scalded his own hand, he +was quite unconscious of the accident; so much so, that he assailed Yue +Ch'uan-erh with a heap of questions, as to where she had been burnt, and +whether it was sore or not. + +Yue Ch'uan-erh and every one present were highly amused. + +"You yourself," observed Yue Ch'uan-erh, "have been scalded, and do you +keep on asking about myself?" + +At these words, Pao-yue became at last aware of the injury he had +received. The servants rushed with all promptitude and cleared the mess. +But Pao-yue was not inclined to touch any more food. He washed his hands, +drank a cup of tea, and then exchanged a few further sentences with the +two matrons. But subsequently, the two women said good-bye and quitted +the room. Ch'ing Wen and some other girls saw them as far as the bridge, +after which, they retraced their steps. + +The two matrons perceived, that there was no one about, and while +proceeding on their way, they started a conversation. + +"It isn't strange," smiled the one, "if people say that this Pao-yue of +theirs is handsome in appearance, but stupid as far as brains go. Nice +enough a thing to look at but not to put to one's lips; rather idiotic +in fact; for he burns his own hand, and then he asks some one else +whether she's sore or not. Now, isn't this being a regular fool?" + +"The last time I came," the other remarked, also smiling, "I heard that +many inmates of his family feel ill-will against him. In real truth he +is a fool! For there he drips in the heavy downpour like a water fowl, +and instead of running to shelter himself, he reminds other people of +the rain, and urges them to get quick out of the wet. Now, tell me, +isn't this ridiculous, eh? Time and again, when no one is present, he +cries to himself, then laughs to himself. When he sees a swallow, he +instantly talks to it; when he espies a fish, in the river, he forthwith +speaks to it. At the sight of stars or the moon, if he doesn't groan and +sigh, he mutters and mutters. Indeed, he hasn't the least bit of +character; so much so, that he even puts up with the temper shown by +those low-bred maids. If he takes a fancy to a thing, it's nice enough +even though it be a bit of thread. But as for waste, what does he mind? +A thing may be worth a thousand or ten thousand pieces of money, he +doesn't worry his mind in the least about it." + +While they talked, they reached the exterior of the garden, and they +betook themselves back to their home; where we will leave them. + +As soon as Hsi Jen, for we will return to her, saw the women leave the +room, she took Ying Erh by the hand and led her in, and they asked +Pao-yue what kind of girdle he wanted made. + +"I was just now so bent upon talking," Pao-yue smiled to Ying Erh, "that +I forgot all about you. I put you to the trouble of coming, not for +anything else, but that you should also make me a few nets." + +"Nets! To put what in?" Ying Erh inquired. + +Pao-yue, at this question, put on a smile. "Don't concern yourself about +what they are for!" he replied. "Just make me a few of each kind!" + +Ying Erh clapped her hand and laughed. "Could this ever be done!" she +cried, "If you want all that lot, why, they couldn't be finished in ten +years time." + +"My dear girl," smiled Pao-yue, "work at them for me then whenever you +are at leisure, and have nothing better to do." + +"How could you get through them all in a little time?" Hsi Jen +interposed smilingly. "First choose now therefore such as are most +urgently needed and make a couple of them." + +"What about urgently needed?" Ying-Erh exclaimed, "They are merely used +for fans, scented pendants and handkerchiefs." + +"Nets for handkerchiefs will do all right." Pao-yue answered. + +"What's the colour of your handkerchief?" inquired Ying Erh. + +"It's a deep red one." Pao-yue rejoined. + +"For a deep red one," continued Ying Erh, "a black net will do very +nicely, or one of dark green. Both these agree with the colour." + +"What goes well with brown?" Pao-yue asked. + +"Peach-red goes well with brown." Ying Erh added. + +"That will make them look gaudy!" Pao-yue observed. "Yet with all their +plainness, they should be somewhat gaudy." + +"Leek-green and willow-yellow are what are most to my taste," Ying Erh +pursued. + +"Yes, they'll also do!" Pao-yue retorted. "But make one of peach-red too +and then one of leek-green." + +"Of what design?" Ying Erh remarked. + +"How many kinds of designs are there?" Pao-yue said. + +"There are 'the stick of incense,' 'stools upset towards heaven,' 'part +of elephant's eyes,' 'squares,' 'chains,' 'plum blossom,' and 'willow +leaves." Ying Erh answered. + +"What was the kind of design you made for Miss Tertia the other day?" +Pao-yue inquired. + +"It was the 'plum blossom with piled cores,'" Ying Erh explained in +reply. + +"Yes, that's nice." Pao-yue rejoined. + +As he uttered this remark, Hsi Jen arrived with the cords. But no sooner +were they brought than a matron cried, from outside the window: "Girls, +your viands are ready!" + +"Go and have your meal," urged Pao-yue, "and come back quick after you've +had it." + +"There are visitors here," Hsi Jen smiled, "and how can I very well go?" + +"What makes you say so?" Ying Erh laughed, while adjusting the cords. +"It's only right and proper that you should go and have your food at +once and then return." + +Hearing this, Hsi Jen and her companions went off, leaving behind only +two youthful servant-girls to answer the calls. + +Pao-yue watched Ying Erh make the nets. But, while keeping his eyes +intent on her, he talked at the same time of one thing and then another, +and next went on to ask her how far she was in her teens. + +Ying Erh continued plaiting. "I'm sixteen," she simultaneously rejoined. + +"What was your original surname?" Pao-yue added. + +"It was Huang;" answered Ying Erh. + +"That's just the thing," Pao-yue smiled; "for in real truth there's the +'Huang Ying-erh;' (oriole)." + +"My name, at one time, consisted of two characters," continued Ying Erh. +"I was called Chin Ying; but Miss Pao-ch'ai didn't like it, as it was +difficult to pronounce, and only called me Ying Erh; so now I've come to +be known under that name." + +"One can very well say that cousin Pao-ch'ai is fond of you!" Pao-yue +pursued. "By and bye, when she gets married, she's sure to take you +along with her." + +Ying Erh puckered up her lips, and gave a significant smile. + +"I've often told Hsi Jen," Pao-yue smiled, "that I can't help wondering +who'll shortly be the lucky ones to win your mistress and yourself." + +"You aren't aware," laughed Ying Erh, "that our young mistress possesses +several qualities not to be found in a single person in this world; her +face is a second consideration." + +Pao-yue noticed how captivating Ying Erh's tone of voice was, how +complaisant she was, and how simpleton-like unaffected in her language +and smiles, and he soon felt the warmest affection for her; and +particularly so, when she started the conversation about Pao-ch'ai. +"Where do her qualities lie?" he readily inquired. "My dear girl, please +tell me!" + +"If I tell you," said Ying Erh, "you must, on no account, let her know +anything about it again." + +"This goes without saying," smiled Pao-yue. + +But this answer was still on his lips, when they overheard some one +outside remark: "How is it that everything is so quiet?" + +Both gazed round to see who possibly it could be. They discovered, +strange enough, no one else than Pao-ch'ai herself. + +Pao-yue hastily offered her a seat. Pao-ch'ai seated herself, and then +wanted to know what Ying Erh was busy plaiting. Inquiring the while, she +approached her and scrutinised what she held in her hands, half of which +had by this time been done. "What's the fun of a thing like this?" she +said. "Wouldn't it be preferable to plait a net, and put the jade in +it?" + +This allusion suggested the idea to Pao-yue. Speedily clapping his hands, +he smiled and exclaimed: "Your idea is splendid, cousin. I'd forgotten +all about it! The only thing is what colour will suit it best?" + +"It will never do to use mixed colours," Pao-ch'ai rejoined. "Deep red +will, on one hand, clash with the colour; while yellow is not pleasing +to the eye; and black, on the other hand, is too sombre. But wait, I'll +try and devise something. Bring that gold cord and use it with the black +beaded cord; and if you twist one of each together, and make a net with +them, it will look very pretty!" + +Upon hearing this, Pao-yue was immeasurably delighted, and time after +time he shouted to the servants to fetch the gold cord. But just at that +moment Hsi Jen stepped in, with two bowls of eatables. "How very strange +this is to-day!" she said to Pao-yue. "Why, a few minutes back, my +mistress, your mother, sent some one to bring me two bowls of viands." + +"The supply," replied Pao-yue smiling, "must have been so plentiful +to-day, that they've sent some to every one of you." + +"It isn't that," continued Hsi Jen, "for they were distinctly given to +me by name. What's more, I wasn't bidden go and knock my head; so this +is indeed remarkable!" + +"If they're given to you," Pao-yue smiled, "why, you had better go and +eat them. What's there in this to fill you with conjectures?" + +"There's never been anything like this before," Hsi Jen added, "so, it +makes me feel uneasy." + +Pao-ch'ai compressed her lips. "If this," she laughed; "makes you fell +uneasy, there will be by and bye other things to make you far more +uneasy." + +Hsi Jen realised that she implied something by her insinuations, as she +knew from past experience that Pao-ch'ai was not one given to lightly +and contemptuously poking fun at people; and, remembering the notions +entertained by Madame Wang on the last occasion she had seen her, she +dropped at once any further allusions to the subject and brought the +eatables up to Pao-yue for his inspection. "I shall come and hold the +cords," she observed, "as soon as I've rinsed my hands." + +This said, she immediately quitted the apartment. After her meal, she +washed her hands and came inside to hold the gold cords for Ying Erh to +plait the net with. + +By this time, Pao-ch'ai had been called away by a servant, despatched by +Hsueeh P'an. But while Pao-yue was watching the net that was being made he +caught sight, at a moment least expected, of two servant-girls, who came +from the part of Madame Hsing of the other mansion, to bring him a few +kinds of fruits, and to inquire whether he was able to walk. "If you can +go about," they told him, "(our mistress) desires you, Mr. Pao-yue, to +cross over to-morrow and have a little distraction. Her ladyship really +longs to see you." + +"Were I able to walk," Pao-yue answered with alacrity, "I would feel it +my duty to go and pay my respects to your mistress! Anyhow, the pain is +better than before, so request your lady to allay her solicitude." + +As he bade them both sit down, he, at the same time, called Ch'iu Wen. +"Take," he said to her, "half of the fruits, just received, to Miss Lin +as a present." + +Ch'iu Wen signified her obedience, and was about to start on her errand, +when she heard Tai-yue talking in the court, and Pao-yue eagerly shout +out: "Request her to walk in at once!" + +But should there be any further particulars, which you, reader, might +feel disposed to know, peruse the details given in the following +chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + While Hsi Jen is busy embroidering mandarin ducks, Pao-yue receives, in + the Chiang Yuen Pavilion, an omen from a dream. + Pao-yue apprehends that there is a destiny in affections, when his + feelings are aroused to a sense of the situation in the Pear + Fragrance court. + + +Ever since dowager lady Chia's return from Madame Wang's quarters, for +we will now take up the string of our narrative, she naturally felt +happier in her mind as she saw that Pao-yue improved from day to day; but +nervous lest Chia Cheng should again in the future send for him, she +lost no time in bidding a servant summon a head-page, a constant +attendant upon Chia Cheng, to come to her, and in impressing upon him +various orders. "Should," she enjoined him, "anything turn up +henceforward connected with meeting guests, entertaining visitors and +other such matters, and your master mean to send for Pao-yue, you can +dispense with going to deliver the message. Just you tell him that I say +that after the severe thrashing he has had, great care must be first +taken of him during several months before he can be allowed to walk; and +that, secondly, his constellation is unpropitious and that he could not +see any outsider, while sacrifices are being offered to the stars; that +I won't have him therefore put his foot beyond the second gate before +the expiry of the eighth moon." + +The head-page listened patiently to her instructions, and, assenting to +all she had to say, he took his leave. + +Old lady Chia thereupon also sent for nurse Li, Hsi Jen and the other +waiting-maids and recommended them to tell Pao-yue about her injunctions +so that he might be able to quiet his mind. + +Pao-yue had always had a repugnance for entertaining high officials and +men in general, and the greatest horror of going in official hat and +ceremonial dress, to offer congratulations, or express condolences, to +pay calls, return visits, or perform other similar conventionalities, +but upon receipt on the present occasion of this message, he became so +much the more confirmed in his dislikes that not only did he suspend all +intercourse with every single relative and friend, but even went so far +as to study more than he had ever done before, his own caprices in the +fulfilment of those morning and evening salutations due to the senior +members of his family. Day after day he spent in the garden, doing +nothing else than loafing about, sitting down here, or reclining there. +Of a morning, he would, as soon as it was day, stroll as far as the +quarters of dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang, to repair back, however, +in no time. Yet ever ready was he every day that went by to perform +menial services for any of the waiting-maids. He, in fact, wasted away +in the most complete _dolce far niente_ days as well as months. If +perchance Pao-ch'ai or any other girl of the same age as herself found +at any time an opportunity to give him advice, he would, instead of +taking it in good part, fly into a huff. "A pure and spotless maiden," +he would say, "has likewise gone and deliberately imitated those +persons, whose aim is to fish for reputation and to seek praise; that +set of government thieves and salaried devils. This result entirely +arises from the fact that there have been people in former times, who +have uselessly stirred up trouble and purposely fabricated stories with +the primary object of enticing the filthy male creatures, who would +spring up in future ages, to follow in their steps! And who would have +thought it, I have had the misfortune of being born a masculine being! +But, even those beautiful girls, in the female apartments, have been so +contaminated by this practice that verily they show themselves +ungrateful for the virtue of Heaven and Earth, in endowing them with +perception, and in rearing them with so much comeliness." + +Seeing therefore what an insane mania possessed him, not one of his +cousins came forward to tender him one proper word of counsel. Lin +Tai-yue was the only one of them, who, from his very infancy, had never +once admonished him to strive and make a position and attain fame, so +thus it was that he entertained for Tai-yue profound consideration. But +enough of minor details. + +We will now turn our attention to lady Feng. Soon after the news of Chin +Ch'uan-erh's death reached her, she saw that domestics from various +branches of the family paid her frequent visits at most unexpected +hours, and presented her a lot of things, and that they courted her +presence at most unseasonable moments, to pay their compliments and +adulate her, and she begun to harbour suspicions, in her own mind, as +she little knew what their object could possibly be. On this date, she +again noticed that some of them had brought their gifts, so, when +evening arrived, and no one was present, she felt compelled to inquire +jocosely of P'ing Erh what their aim could be. + +"Can't your ladyship fathom even this?" P'ing Erh answered with a +sardonic smile. "Why, their daughters must, I fancy, be servant-girls in +Madame Wang's apartments! For her ladyship's rooms four elderly girls +are at present allotted with a monthly allowance of one tael; the rest +simply receiving several hundreds of cash each month; so now that Chin +Ch'uan-erh is dead and gone, these people must, of course, be anxious to +try their tricks and get this one-tael job!" + +Hearing this, lady Feng smiled a significant smile. "That's it. Yes, +that's it!" she exclaimed. "You've really suggested the idea to my mind! +From all appearances, these people are a most insatiable lot; for they +make quite enough in the way of money! And as for any business that +requires a little exertion, why they are never ready to bear a share of +it! They make use of their girls as so many tools to shove their own +duties upon. Yet one overlooks that. But must they too have designs upon +this job? Never mind! These people cannot easily afford to spend upon me +the money they do. But they bring this upon their own selves, so I'll +keep every bit of thing they send. I've, after all, resolved how to act +in the matter!" + +Having arrived at this decision, lady Feng purely and simply protracted +the delay until all the women had sent her enough to satisfy her, when +she at last suited her own convenience and spoke to Madame Wang (on the +subject of the vacant post). + +Mrs. Hsueeh and her daughter were sitting one day, at noon, in Madame +Wang's quarters, together with Lin Tai-yue and the other girls, when lady +Feng found an opportunity and broached the topic with Madame Wang. "Ever +since," she said, "sister Chin Ch'uan-erh's death, there has been one +servant less in your ladyship's service. But you may possibly have set +your choice upon some girl; if so, do let me know who it is, so that I +may be able to pay her her monthly wages." + +This reminder made Madame Wang commune with her own self. "I fancy," she +remarked; "that the custom is that there should be four or five of them; +but as long as there are enough to wait upon me, I don't mind, so we can +really dispense with another." + +"What you say is, properly speaking, perfectly correct," smiled lady +Feng; "but it's an old established custom. There are still a couple to +be found in other people's rooms and won't you, Madame, conform with the +rule? Besides, the saving of a tael is a small matter." + +After this argument, Madame Wang indulged in further thought. "Never +mind," she then observed, "just you bring over this allowance and pay it +to me. And there will be no need to supply another girl. I'll hand over +this tael to her younger sister, Yue Ch'uan-erh, and finish with it. Her +elder sister came to an unpleasant end, after a long term of service +with me; so if the younger sister, she leaves behind in my employ, +receives a double share, it won't be any too excessive." + +Lady Feng expressed her approval and turning round she said smilingly to +Yue Ch'uan-erh: "I congratulate you, I congratulate you!" + +Yue Ch'uan-erh thereupon crossed over and prostrated herself. + +"I just want to ask you," Madame Wang went on to inquire, "how much Mrs. +Chao and Mrs. Chou are allowed monthly?" + +"They have a fixed allowance," answered lady Feng, "each of them draws +two taels. But Mrs. Chao gets two taels for cousin Chia Huan, so hers +amounts in all to four taels; besides these, four strings of cash." + +"Are they paid in full month after month?" Madame Wang inquired. + +Lady Feng thought the question so very strange that she hastened to +exclaim by way of reply: "How are they not paid in full?" + +"The other day," Madame Wang proceeded, "I heard a faint rumour that +there was some one, who complained in an aggrieved way that she had got +a string short. How and why is this?" + +"The monthly allowances of the servant-girls, attached to the secondary +wives," lady Feng hurriedly added with a smile, "amounted originally to +a tiao each, but ever since last year, it was decided, by those people +outside, that the shares of each of those ladies' girls should be +reduced by half, that is, each to five hundred cash; and, as each lady +has a couple of servant-girls, they receive therefore a tiao short. But +for this, they can't bear me a grudge. As far as I'm concerned, I would +only be too glad to let them have it; but our people outside will again +disallow it; so is it likely that I can authorise any increase, pray? In +this matter of payments I merely receive the money, and I've nothing to +do with how it comes and how it goes. I nevertheless recommended, on two +or three occasions, that it would be better if these two shares were +again raised to the old amount; but they said that there's only that +much money, so that I can't very well volunteer any further suggestions! +Now that the funds are paid into my hands, I give them to them every +month, without any irregularity of even so much as a day. When payments +hitherto were effected outside, what month were they not short of money? +And did they ever, on any single instance, obtain their pay at the +proper time and date?" + +Having heard this explanation, Madame Wang kept silent for a while. +Next, she proceeded to ask, how many girls there were with dowager lady +Chia drawing one tael. + +"Eight of them," rejoined lady Feng, "but there are at present only +seven; the other one is Hsi Jen." + +"Quite right," assented Madame Wang. "But your cousin Pao-yue hasn't any +maid at one tael; for Hsi Jen is still a servant belonging to old lady +Chia's household." + +"Hsi Jen," lady Feng smiled, "is still our dear ancestor's servant; +she's only lent to cousin Pao-yue; so that she still receives this tael +in her capacity of maid to our worthy senior. Any proposal, therefore, +that might now be made, that this tael should, as Hsi Jen is Pao-yue's +servant, be curtailed, can, on no account, be entertained. Yet, were it +suggested that another servant should be added to our senior's staff, +then in this way one could reduce the tael she gets. But if this be not +curtailed, it will be necessary to also add a servant in cousin Chia +Huan's rooms, in order that there should be a fair apportionment. In +fact, Ch'ing Wen, She Yueeh and the others, numbering seven senior maids, +receive each a tiao a month; and Chiao Hui and the rest of the junior +maids, eight in all, get each five hundred cash per mensem; and this was +recommended by our venerable ancestor herself; so how can any one be +angry and feel displeasure?" + +"Just listen," laughed Mrs. Hsueeh, "to that girl Feng's mouth! It +rattles and rattles like a cart laden with walnuts, which has turned +topsy-turvy! Yet, her accounts are, from what one can gather, clear +enough, and her arguments full of reason." + +"Aunt," rejoined lady Feng smiling, "was I likely, pray, wrong in what I +said?" + +"Who ever said you were wrong?" Mrs. Hsueeh smiled. "But were you to talk +a little slower, wouldn't it be a saving of exertion for you?" + +Lady Feng was about to laugh, but hastily checking herself, she lent an +ear to what Madame Wang might have to tell her. + +Madame Wang indulged in thought for a considerable time. Afterwards, +facing lady Feng, "You'd better," she said, "select a waiting-maid +tomorrow and send her over to our worthy senior to fill up Hsi Jen's +place. Then, discontinue that allowance, which Hsi Jen draws, and keep +out of the sum of twenty taels, allotted to me monthly, two taels and a +tiao, and give them to Hsi Jen. So henceforward what Mrs. Chao and Mrs. +Chou will get, Hsi Jen will likewise get, with the only difference that +the share granted to Hsi Jen, will be entirely apportioned out of my own +allowance. Mind, therefore, there will be no necessity to touch the +public funds!" + +Lady Feng acquiesced to each one of her recommendations, and, pushing +Mrs. Hsueeh, "Aunt," she inquired, "have you heard her proposal? What +have I all along maintained? Well, my words have actually come out true +to-day!" + +"This should have been accomplished long ago," Mrs. Hsueeh answered. "For +without, of course, making any allusion to her looks, her way of doing +business is liberal; her speech and her relations with people are always +prompted by an even temper, while inwardly she has plenty of singleness +of heart and eagerness to hold her own. Indeed, such a girl is not easy +to come across!" + +Madame Wang made every effort to conceal her tears. "How could you +people ever rightly estimate Hsi Jen's qualities?" she observed. "Why, +she's a hundred times better than my own Pao-yue. How fortunate, in +reality, Pao-yue is! Well would it be if he could have her wait upon him +for the whole length of his life!" + +"In that case," lady Feng suggested, "why, have her face shaved at once, +and openly place her in his room as a secondary wife. Won't this be a +good plan?" + +"This won't do!" Madame Wang retorted. "For first and foremost he's of +tender years. In the second place, my husband won't countenance any such +thing! In the third, so long as Pao-yue sees that Hsi Jen is his +waiting-maid, he may, in the event of anything occurring from his having +been allowed to run wild, listen to any good counsel she might give him. +But were she now to be made his secondary wife, Hsi Jen would not +venture to tender him any extreme advice, even when it's necessary to do +so. It's better, therefore, to let things stand as they are for the +present, and talk about them again, after the lapse of another two or +three years." + +At the close of these arguments, lady Feng could not put in a word, by +way of reply, to refute them, so turning round, she left the room. She +had no sooner, however, got under the verandah, than she discerned the +wives of a number of butlers, waiting for her to report various matters +to her. Seeing her issue out of the room, they with one consent smiled. +"What has your ladyship had to lay before Madame Wang," they remarked, +"that you've been talking away this length of time? Didn't you find it +hot work?" + +Lady Feng tucked up her sleeves several times. Then resting her foot on +the step of the side door, she laughed and rejoined: "The draft in this +passage is so cool, that I'll stop, and let it play on me a bit before I +go on. You people," she proceeded to tell them, "say that I've been +talking to her all this while, but Madame Wang conjured up all that has +occurred for the last two hundred years and questioned me about it; so +could I very well not have anything to say in reply? But from this day +forth," she added with a sarcastic smile, "I shall do several mean +things, and should even (Mrs. Chao and Mrs. Chou) go, out of any +ill-will, and tell Madame Wang, I won't know what fear is for such +stupid, glib-tongued, foul-mouthed creatures as they, who are bound not +to see a good end! It isn't for them to indulge in those fanciful dreams +of becoming primary wives, for there, will come soon a day when the +whole lump sum of their allowance will be cut off! They grumble against +us for having now reduced the perquisites of the servant-maids, but they +don't consider whether they deserve to have so many as three girls to +dance attendance on them!" + +While heaping abuse on their heads, she started homewards, and went all +alone in search of some domestic to go and deliver a message to old lady +Chia. + +But without any further reference to her, we will take up the thread of +our narrative with Mrs. Hsueeh, and the others along with her. During +this interval they finished feasting on melons. After some more gossip, +each went her own way; and Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yue and the rest of the cousins +returned into the garden. Pao-ch'ai then asked Tai-yue to repair with her +to the O Hsiang Arbour. But Tai-yue said that she was just going to have +her bath, so they parted company, and Pao-ch'ai walked back all by +herself. On her way, she stepped into the I Hung Yuean, to look up Pao-yue +and have a friendly hobnob with him, with the idea of dispelling her +mid-day lassitude; but, contrary to her expectations, the moment she put +her foot into the court, she did not so much as catch the caw of a crow. +Even the two storks stood under the banana trees, plunged in sleep. +Pao-ch'ai proceeded along the covered passage and entered the rooms. +Here she discovered the servant-girls sleeping soundly on the bed of the +outer apartment; some lying one way, some another; so turning round the +decorated screen, she wended her steps into Pao-yue's chamber. Pao-yue was +asleep in bed. Hsi Jen was seated by his side, busy plying her needle. +Next to her, lay a yak tail. Pao-ch'ai advanced up to her. "You're +really far too scrupulous," she said smilingly in an undertone. "Are +there still flies or mosquitos in here? and why do yet use that fly-flap +for, to drive what away?" + +Hsi Jen was quite taken by surprise. But hastily raising her head, and +realising that it was Pao-ch'ai, she hurriedly put down her needlework. +"Miss," she whispered with a smile, "you came upon me so unawares that +you gave me quite a start! You don't know, Miss, that though there be no +flies or mosquitoes there is, no one would believe it, a kind of small +insect, which penetrates through the holes of this gauze; it is scarcely +to be detected, but when one is asleep, it bites just like ants do!" + +"It isn't to be wondered at," Pao-ch'ai suggested, "for the back of +these rooms adjoins the water; the whole place is also one mass of +fragrant flowers, and the interior of this room is, too, full of their +aroma. These insects grow mostly in the core of flowers, so no sooner do +they scent the smell of any than they at once rush in." + +Saying this, she cast a look on the needlework she (Hsi Jen) held in her +hands. It consisted, in fact, of a belt of white silk, lined with red, +and embroidered on the upper part with designs representing mandarin +ducks, disporting themselves among some lotus. The lotus flowers were +red, the leaves green, the ducks of variegated colours. + +"Ai-yah!" ejaculated Pao-ch'ai, "what very beautiful work! For whom is +this, that it's worth your while wasting so much labour on it?" + +Hsi Jen pouted her lips towards the bed. + +"Does a big strapping fellow like this," Pao-ch'ai laughed, "still wear +such things?" + +"He would never wear any before," Hsi Jen smiled, "that's why such a +nice one was specially worked for him, in order that when he was allowed +to see it, he should not be able to do otherwise than use it. With the +present hot weather, he goes to sleep anyhow, but as he has been coaxed +to wear it, it doesn't matter if even he doesn't cover himself well at +night. You say that I bestow much labour upon this, but you haven't yet +seen the one he has on!" + +"It is a lucky thing," Pao-ch'ai observed, smiling, "that you're gifted +with such patience." + +"I've done so much of it to-day," remarked Hsi Jen, "that my neck is +quite sore from bending over it. My dear Miss," she then urged with a +beaming countenance, "do sit here a little. I'll go out for a turn. I'll +be back shortly." + +With these words, she sallied out of the room. + +Pao-ch'ai was intent upon examining the embroidery, so in her +absentmindedness, she, with one bend of her body, settled herself on the +very same spot, which Hsi Jen had recently occupied. But she found, on +second scrutiny, the work so really admirable, that impulsively picking +up the needle, she continued it for her. At quite an unforeseen +moment--for Lin Tai-yue had met Shih Hsiang-yuen and asked her to come +along with her and present her congratulations to Hsi Jen--these two +girls made their appearance in the court. Finding the whole place +plunged in silence, Hsiang-yuen turned round and betook herself first +into the side-rooms in search of Hsi Jen. Lin Tai-yue, meanwhile, walked +up to the window from outside, and peeped in through the gauze frame. At +a glance, she espied Pao-yue, clad in a silvery-red coat, lying +carelessly on the bed, and Pao-ch'ai, seated by his side, busy at some +needlework, with a fly-brush resting by her side. + +As soon as Lin Tai-yue became conscious of the situation, she immediately +slipped out of sight, and stopping her mouth with one hand, as she did +not venture to laugh aloud, she waved her other hand and beckoned to +Hsiang-yuen. The moment Hsiang-yuen saw the way she went on, she concluded +that she must have something new to impart to her, and she approached +her with all promptitude. At the sight, which opened itself before her +eyes, she also felt inclined to laugh. Yet the sudden recollection of +the kindness, with which Pao-ch'ai had always dealt towards her, induced +her to quickly seal her lips. And knowing well enough that Tai-yue never +spared any one with her mouth, she was seized with such fear lest she +should jeer at them, that she immediately dragged her past the window. +"Come along!" she observed. "Hsi Jen, I remember, said that she would be +going at noon to wash some clothes at the pond. I presume she's there +already so let's go and join her." + +Tai-yue inwardly grasped her meaning, but, after indulging in a couple of +sardonic smiles, she had no alternative but to follow in her footsteps. + +Pao-ch'ai had, during this while, managed to embroider two or three +petals, when she heard Pao-yue begin to shout abusingly in his dreams. +"How can," he cried, "one ever believe what bonzes and Taoist priests +say? What about a match between gold and jade? My impression is that +it's to be a union between a shrub and a stone!" + +Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai caught every single word uttered by him and fell +unconsciously in a state of excitement. Of a sudden, however, Hsi Jen +appeared on the scene. "Hasn't he yet woke up?" she inquired. + +Pao-ch'ai nodded her head by way of reply. + +"I just came across," Hsi Jen smiled, "Miss Lin and Miss Shih. Did they +happen to come in?" + +"I didn't see them come in," Pao-ch'ai answered. "Did they tell you +anything?" she next smilingly asked of Hsi Jen. + +Hsi Jen blushed and laughed significantly. "They simply came out with +some of those jokes of theirs," she explained. "What decent things could +such as they have had to tell me?" + +"They made insinuations to-day," Pao-ch'ai laughed, "which are anything +but a joke! I was on the point of telling you them, when you rushed away +in an awful hurry." + +But no sooner had she concluded, than she perceived a servant, come over +from lady Feng's part to fetch Hsi Jen. "It must be on account of what +they hinted," Pao-ch'ai smilingly added. + +Hsi Jen could not therefore do otherwise than arouse two servant-maids +and go. She proceeded, with Pao-ch'ai, out of the I Hung court, and then +repaired all alone to lady Feng's on this side. It was indeed to +communicate to her what had been decided about her, and to explain to +her, as well, that though she could go and prostrate herself before +Madame Wang, she could dispense with seeing dowager lady Chia. This news +made Hsi Jen feel very awkward; to such an extent, that no sooner had +she got through her visit to Madame Wang, than she returned in a hurry +to her rooms. + +Pao-yue had already awoke. He asked the reason why she had been called +away, but Hsi Jen temporised by giving him an evasive answer. And only +at night, when every one was quiet, did Hsi Jen at length give him a +full account of the whole matter. Pao-yue was delighted beyond measure. +"I'll see now," he said, with a face beaming with smiles, "whether +you'll go back home or not. On your return, after your last visit to +your people, you stated that your brother wished to redeem you, adding +that this place was no home for you, and that you didn't know what would +become of you in the long run. You freely uttered all that language +devoid of feeling and reason, and enough too to produce an estrangement +between us, in order to frighten me; but I'd like to see who'll +henceforward have the audacity to come and ask you to leave!" + +Hsi Jen, upon hearing this, smiled a smile full of irony. "You shouldn't +say such things!" she replied. "From henceforward I shall be our Madame +Wang's servant, so that, if I choose to go I needn't even breathe a word +to you. All I'll have to do will be to tell her, and then I shall be +free to do as I like." + +"But supposing that I behaved improperly," demurred Pao-yue laughingly, +"and that you took your leave after letting mother know, you yourself +will be placed in no nice fix, when people get wind that you left on +account of my having been improper." + +"What no nice fix!" smiled Hsi Jen. "Is it likely that I am bound to +serve even highway robbers? Well, failing anything else, I can die; for +human beings may live a hundred years, but they're bound, in the long +run, to fall a victim to death! And when this breath shall have +departed, and I shall have lost the sense of hearing and of seeing, all +will then be well!" + +When her rejoinder fell on his ear, Pao-yue promptly stopped her mouth +with both his hands. "Enough! enough! that will do," he shouted. +"There's no necessity for you to utter language of this kind." + +Hsi Jen was well aware that Pao-yue was gifted with such a peculiar +temperament, that he even looked upon flattering or auspicious phrases +with utter aversion, treating them as meaningless and consequently +insincere, so when, after listening to those truths, she had spoken with +such pathos, he, lapsed into another of his melancholy moods, she blamed +herself for the want of consideration she had betrayed. Hastily +therefore putting on a smile, she tried to hit upon some suitable +remarks, with which to interrupt the conversation. Her choice fell upon +those licentious and immodest topics, which had ever been a relish to +the taste of Pao-yue; and from these the conversation drifted to the +subject of womankind. But when, subsequently, reference was made to the +excellency of the weak sex, they somehow or other also came to touch +upon the mortal nature of women, and Hsi Jen promptly closed her lips in +silence. + +Noticing however that now that the conversation had reached a point so +full of zest for him, she had nothing to say for herself, Pao-yue +smilingly remarked: "What human being is there that can escape death? +But the main thing is to come to a proper end! All that those abject +male creatures excel in is, the civil officers, to sacrifice their lives +by remonstrating with the Emperor; and, the military, to leave their +bones on the battlefield. Both these deaths do confer, after life is +extinct, the fame of great men upon them; but isn't it, in fact, better +for them not to die? For as it is absolutely necessary that there should +be a disorderly Emperor before they can afford any admonition, to what +future fate do they thus expose their sovereign, if they rashly throw +away their lives, with the sole aim of reaping a fair name for +themselves? War too must supervene before they can fight; but if they go +and recklessly lay down their lives, with the exclusive idea of gaining +the reputation of intrepid warriors, to what destiny will they abandon +their country by and bye? Hence it is that neither of these deaths can +be looked upon as a legitimate death." + +"Loyal ministers," Hsi Jen argued, "and excellent generals simply die +because it isn't in their power to do otherwise." + +"Military officers," Pao-yue explained, "place such entire reliance upon +brute force that they become lax in their stratagems and faulty in their +plans. It's because they don't possess any inherent abilities that they +lose their lives. Could one therefore, pray, say that they had no other +alternative? Civil officials, on the other hand, can still less compare +with military officers. They read a few passages from books, and commit +them to memory; and, on the slightest mistake made by the Emperor, +they're at once rash enough to remonstrate with him, prompted by the +sole idea of attaining the fame of loyalty and devotion. But, as soon as +their stupid notions have bubbled over, they forfeit their lives, and is +it likely that it doesn't lie within their power to do otherwise? Why, +they should also bear in mind that the Emperor receives his decrees from +Heaven; and, that were he not a perfect man, Heaven itself would, on no +account whatever, confer upon him a charge so extremely onerous. This +makes it evident therefore that the whole pack and parcel of those +officers, who are dead and gone, have invariably fallen victims to their +endeavours to attain a high reputation, and that they had no knowledge +whatever of the import of the great principle of right! Take me as an +instance now. Were really mine the good fortune of departing life at a +fit time, I'd avail myself of the present when all you girls are alive, +to pass away. And could I get you to shed such profuse tears for me as +to swell out into a stream large enough to raise my corpse and carry it +to some secluded place, whither no bird even has ever wended its flight, +and could I become invisible like the wind, and nevermore from this +time, come into existence as a human being, I shall then have died at a +proper season." + +Hsi Jen suddenly awoke to the fact that he was beginning to give vent to +a lot of twaddle, and speedily, pleading fatigue, she paid no further +notice to him. This compelled Pao-yue to at last be quiet and go to +sleep. By the morrow, all recollection of the discussion had vanished +from his mind. + +One day, Pao-yue was feeling weary at heart, after strolling all over the +place, when remembering the song of the "Peony Pavilion," he read it +over twice to himself; but still his spirits continued anything but +joyous. Having heard, however, that among the twelve girls in the Pear +Fragrance Court there was one called Ling Kuan, who excelled in singing, +he purposely issued forth by a side gate and came in search of her. But +the moment he got there, he discovered Pao Kuan, and Yue Kuan in the +court. As soon as they caught sight of Pao-yue, they, with one consent, +smiled and urged him to take a seat. Pao-yue then inquired where Ling +Kuan was. Both girls explained that she was in her room, so Pao-yue +hastened in. Here he found Ling Kuan alone, reclining against a pillow. +Though perfectly conscious of his arrival, she did not move a muscle. +Pao-yue ensconced himself next to her. He had always been in the habit of +playing with the rest of the girls, so thinking that Ling Kuan was like +the others, he felt impelled to draw near her and to entreat her, with a +forced smile, to get up and sing part of the "Niao Ch'ing Ssu." But his +hopes were baffled; for as soon as Ling Kuan perceived him sit down, she +impetuously raised herself and withdrew from his side. "I'm hoarse," she +rejoined with a stern expression on her face. "The Empress the other day +called us into the palace; but I couldn't sing even then." + +Seeing her sit bolt upright, Pao-yue went on to pass her under a minute +survey. He discovered that it was the girl, whom he had, some time ago +beheld under the cinnamon roses, drawing the character "Ch'iang." But +seeing the reception she accorded him, who had never so far known what +it was to be treated contemptuously by any one, he blushed crimson, +while muttering some abuse to himself, and felt constrained to quit the +room. + +Pao Kuan and her companion could not fathom why he was so red and +inquired of him the reason. Pao-yue told them. "Wait a while," Pao Kuan +said, "until Mr. Ch'iang Secundus comes; and when he asks her to sing, +she is bound to sing." + +Pao-yue at these words felt very sad within himself. "Where's brother +Ch'iang gone to?" he asked. + +"He's just gone out," Pao Kuan answered. "Of course, Ling Kuan must have +wanted something or other, and he's gone to devise ways and means to +bring it to her." + +Pao-yue thought this remark very extraordinary. But after standing about +for a while, he actually saw Chia Ch'iang arrive from outside, carrying +a cage, with a tiny stage inserted at the top, and a bird as well; and +wend his steps, in a gleeful mood, towards the interior to join Ling +Kuan. The moment, however, he noticed Pao-yue, he felt under the +necessity of halting. + +"What kind of bird is that?" Pao-yue asked. "Can it hold a flag in its +beak, or do any tricks?" + +"It's the 'jade-crested and gold-headed bird,'" smiled Chia Ch'iang. + +"How much did you give for it?" Pao-yue continued. + +"A tael and eight mace," replied Chia Ch'iang. + +But while replying to his inquiries, he motioned to Pao-yue to take a +seat, and then went himself into Ling Kuan's apartment. + +Pao-yue had, by this time, lost every wish of hearing a song. His sole +desire was to find what relations existed between his cousin and Ling +Kuan, when he perceived Chia Ch'iang walk in and laughingly say to her, +"Come and see this thing." + +"What's it?" Ling Kuan asked, rising. + +"I've bought a bird for you to amuse yourself with," Chia Ch'iang added, +"so that you mayn't daily feel dull and have nothing to distract +yourself with. But I'll first play with it and let you see." + +With this prelude, he took a few seeds and began to coax the bird, until +it, in point of fact, performed various tricks, on the stage, clasping +in its beak a mask and a flag. + +All the girls shouted out: "How nice;" with the sole exception of Ling +Kuan, who gave a couple of apathetic smirks, and went in a huff to lie +down. Again Chia Ch'iang, however, kept on forcing smiles, and inquiring +of her whether she liked it or not. + +"Isn't it enough," Ling Kuan observed, "that your family entraps a fine +lot of human beings like us and coops us up in this hole to study this +stuff and nonsense, but do you also now go and get a bird, which +likewise is, as it happens, up to this sort of thing? You distinctly +fetch it to make fun of us, and mimick us, and do you still ask me +whether I like it or not?" + +Hearing this reproach, Chia Ch'iang of a sudden sprang to his feet with +alacrity and vehemently endeavoured by vowing and swearing to establish +his innocence. "How ever could I have been such a fool to-day," he +proceeded, "as to go and throw away a tael or two to purchase this bird? +I really did it in the hope that it would afford you amusement. I never +for a moment entertained such thoughts as those you credit me with. But +never mind; I'll let it go, and save you all this misery!" + +So saying, he verily gave the bird its liberty; and, with one blow, he +smashed the cage to atoms. + +"This bird," still argued Ling Kuan, "differs, it's true, from a human +being; but it too has a mother and father in its nest, and could you +have had the heart to bring it here to perform these silly pranks? In +coughing to-day, I expectorated two mouthfuls of blood, and Madame Wang +sent some one here to find you so as to tell you to ask the doctor round +to minutely diagnose my complaint, and have you instead brought this to +mock me with? But it so happens that I, who have not a soul to look +after me, or to care for me, also have the fate to fall ill!" + +Chia Ch'iang listened to her. "Yesterday evening," he eagerly explained, +"I asked the doctor about it. He said that it was nothing at all, that +you should take a few doses of medicine, and that he would be coming +again in a day or two to see how you were getting on. But who'd have +thought it, you have again to-day expectorated blood. I'll go at once +and invite him to come round." + +Speaking the while, he was about to go immediately when Ling Kuan cried +out and stopped him. "Do you go off in a tantrum in this hot broiling +sun?" she said. "You may ask him to come, but I won't see him." + +When he heard her resolution, Chia Ch'iang had perforce to stand still. + +Pao-yue, perceiving what transpired between them, fell unwittingly in a +dull reverie. He then at length got an insight into the deep import of +the tracing of the character "Ch'iang." But unable to bear the ordeal +any longer, he forthwith took himself out of the way. So absorbed, +however, was Chia Ch'iang's whole mind with Ling Kuan that he could not +even give a thought to escorting any one; and it was, in fact, the rest +of the singing-girls who saw (Pao-yue) out. + +Pao-yue's heart was gnawed with doubts and conjectures. In an imbecile +frame of mind, he came to the I Hung court. Lin Tai-yue was, at the +moment, sitting with Hsi Jen, and chatting with her. As soon as Pao-yue +entered his quarters, he addressed himself to Hsi Jen, with a long sigh. +"I was very wrong in what I said yesterday evening," he remarked. "It's +no matter of surprise that father says that I am so narrow-minded that I +look at things through a tube and measure them with a clam-shell. I +mentioned something last night about having nothing but tears, shed by +all of you girls, to be buried in. But this was a mere delusion! So as I +can't get the tears of the whole lot of you, each one of you can +henceforward keep her own for herself, and have done." + +Hsi Jen had flattered herself that the words he had uttered the previous +evening amounted to idle talk, and she had long ago dispelled all +thought of them from her mind, but when Pao-yue unawares made further +allusion to them, she smilingly rejoined: "You are verily somewhat +cracked!" + +Pao-yue kept silent, and attempted to make no reply. Yet from this time +he fully apprehended that the lot of human affections is, in every +instance, subject to predestination, and time and again he was wont to +secretly muse, with much anguish: "Who, I wonder, will shed tears for +me, at my burial?" + +Lin Tai-yue, for we will now allude to her, noticed Pao-yue's behaviour, +but readily concluding that he must have been, somewhere or other, once +more possessed by some malignant spirit, she did not feel it advisable +to ask many questions. "I just saw," she consequently observed, "my +maternal aunt, who hearing that to-morrow is Miss Hsueeh's birthday, bade +me come at my convenience to ask you whether you'll go or not, (and to +tell you) to send some one ahead to let them know what you mean to do." + +"I didn't go the other day, when it was Mr. Chia She's birthday, so I +won't go now." Pao-yue answered. "If it is a matter of meeting any one, I +won't go anywhere. On a hot day like this to again don my ceremonial +dress! No, I won't go. Aunt is not likely to feel displeased with me!" + +"What are you driving at?" Hsi Jen speedily ventured. "She couldn't be +put on the same footing as our senior master! She lives close by here. +Besides she's a relative. Why, if you don't go, won't you make her +imagine things? Well, if you dread the heat, just get up at an early +hour and go over and prostrate yourself before her, and come back again, +after you've had a cup of tea. Won't this look well?" + +Before Pao-yue had time to say anything by way of response, Tai-yue +anticipated him. "You should," she smiled, "go as far as there for the +sake of her, who drives the mosquitoes away from you." + +Pao-yue could not make out the drift of her insinuation. "What about +driving mosquitoes away?" he vehemently inquired. + +Hsi Jen then explained to him how while he was fast asleep the previous +day and no one was about to keep him company, Miss Pao-ch'ai had sat +with him for a while. + +"It shouldn't have been done!" Pao-yue promptly exclaimed, after hearing +her explanations. "But how did I manage to go to sleep and show such +utter discourtesy to her? I must go to-morrow!" he then went on to add. +But while these words were still on his lips, he unexpectedly caught +sight of Shih Hsian-yuen walk in in full dress, to bid them adieu, as she +said that some one had been sent from her home to fetch her away. + +The moment Pao-yue and Tai-yue heard what was the object of her visit, +they quickly rose to their feet and pressed her to take a seat. But Shih +Hsiang-yuen would not sit down, so Pao-yue and Tai-yue were compelled to +escort her as far as the front part of the mansion. + +Shih Hsiang-yuen's eyes were brimming with tears; but realising that +several people from her home were present, she did not have the courage +to give full vent to her feelings. But when shortly Pao-ch'ai ran over +to find her, she felt so much the more drawn towards them, that she +could not brook to part from them. Pao-ch'ai, however, inwardly +understood that if her people told her aunt anything on their return, +there would again be every fear of her being blown up, as soon as she +got back home, and she therefore urged her to start on her way. One and +all then walked with her up to the second gate, and Pao-yue wished to +accompany her still further outside, but Shih Hsiang-yuen deterred him. +Presently, they turned to go back. But once more, she called Pao-yue to +her, and whispered to him in a soft tone of voice: "Should our venerable +senior not think of me do often allude to me, so that she should depute +some one to fetch me." + +Pao-yue time after time assured her that he would comply with her wishes. +And having followed her with their eyes, while she got into her curricle +and started, they eventually retraced their steps towards the inner +compound. But, reader, if you like to follow up the story, peruse the +details contained in the chapter below. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + In the Study of Autumnal Cheerfulness is accidentally formed the + Cydonia Japonica Society. + In the Heng Wu Court, the chrysanthemum is, on a certain night, + proposed as a subject for verses. + + +But to continue. After Shih Hsiang-yuen's return home, Pao-yue and the +other inmates spent their time, as of old, in rambling about in the +garden in search of pleasure, and in humming poetical compositions. But +without further reference to their doings, let us take up our narrative +with Chia Cheng. + +Ever since the visit paid to her home by the imperial consort, he +fulfilled his official duties with additional zeal, for the purpose of +reverently making requital for the grace shown him by the Emperor. His +correct bearing and his spotless reputation did not escape His Majesty's +notice, and he conferred upon him the special appointment of Literary +Chancellor, with the sole object of singling out his true merit; for +though he had not commenced his career through the arena of public +examinations, he belonged nevertheless to a family addicted to letters +during successive generations. Chia Cheng had, therefore, on the receipt +of the imperial decree, to select the twentieth day of the eighth moon +to set out on his journey. When the appointed day came, he worshipped at +the shrines of his ancestors, took leave of them and of dowager lady +Chia, and started for his post. It would be a needless task, however, to +recount with any full particulars how Pao-yue and all the inmates saw him +off, how Chia Cheng went to take up his official duties, and what +occurred abroad, suffice it for us to notice that Pao-yue, ever since +Chia Cheng's departure, indulged his caprices, allowed his feelings to +run riot, and gadded wildly about. In fact, he wasted his time, and +added fruitless days and months to his age. + +On this special occasion, he experienced more than ever a sense of his +lack of resources, and came to look up his grandmother Chia and Madame +Wang. With them, he whiled away some of his time, after which he +returned into the garden. As soon as he changed his costume, he +perceived Ts'ui Mo enter, with a couple of sheets of fancy notepaper, in +her hand, which she delivered to him. + +"It quite slipped from my mind," Pao-yue remarked. "I meant to have gone +and seen my cousin Tertia; is she better that you come?" + +"Miss is all right," Ts'ui Mo answered. "She hasn't even had any +medicine to-day. It's only a slight chill." + +When Pao-yue heard this reply, he unfolded the fancy notepaper. On +perusal, he found the contents to be: "Your cousin, T'an Ch'un, +respectfully lays this on her cousin Secundus' study-table. When the +other night the blue sky newly opened out to view, the moon shone as if +it had been washed clean! Such admiration did this pure and rare +panorama evoke in me that I could not reconcile myself to the idea of +going to bed. The clepsydra had already accomplished three turns, and +yet I roamed by the railing under the dryandra trees. But such poor +treatment did I receive from wind and dew (that I caught a chill), which +brought about an ailment as severe (as that which prevented the man of +old from) picking up sticks. You took the trouble yesterday to come in +person and cheer me up. Time after time also did you send your +attendants round to make affectionate inquiries about me. You likewise +presented me with fresh lichees and relics of writings of Chen Ch'ing. +How deep is really your gracious love! As I leant to-day on my table +plunged in silence, I suddenly remembered that the ancients of +successive ages were placed in circumstances, in which they had to +struggle for reputation and to fight for gain, but that they +nevertheless acquired spots with hills and dripping streams, and, +inviting people to come from far and near, they did all they could to +detain them, by throwing the linch-pins of their chariots into wells or +by holding on to their shafts; and that they invariably joined +friendship with two or three of the same mind as themselves, with whom +they strolled about in these grounds, either erecting altars for song, +or establishing societies for scanning poetical works. Their meetings +were, it is true, prompted, on the spur of the moment, by a sudden fit +of good cheer, but these have again and again proved, during many years, +a pleasant topic of conversation. I, your cousin, may, I admit, be +devoid of talent, yet I have been fortunate enough to enjoy your company +amidst streams and rockeries, and to furthermore admire the elegant +verses composed by Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai and Lin Tai-yue. When we were in the +breezy hall and the moonlit pavilion, what a pity we never talked about +poets! But near the almond tree with the sign and the peach tree by the +stream, we may perhaps, when under the fumes of wine, be able to fling +round the cups, used for humming verses! Who is it who opines that +societies with any claim to excellent abilities can only be formed by +men? May it not be that the pleasant meetings on the Tung Shan might +yield in merit to those, such as ourselves, of the weaker sex? Should +you not think it too much to walk on the snow, I shall make bold to ask +you round, and sweep the way clean of flowers and wait for you. +Respectfully written." + +The perusal of this note filled Pao-yue unawares with exultation. +Clapping his hands; "My third cousin," he laughed, "is the one eminently +polished; I'll go at once to-day and talk matters over with her." + +As he spoke, he started immediately, followed by Ts'ui Mo. As soon as +they reached the Hsin Fang pavilion, they espied the matron, on duty +that day at the back door of the garden, advancing towards them with a +note in her hand. The moment she perceived Pao-yue she forthwith came up +to meet him. "Mr. Yuen," she said, "presents his compliments to you. He +is waiting for you at the back gate. This is a note he bade me bring +you." + +Upon opening the note, Pao-yue found it to read as follows: "An unfilial +son, Yuen, reverently inquires about his worthy father's boundless +happiness and precious health. Remembering the honour conferred upon me +by your recognising me, in your heavenly bounty, as your son, I tried +both day as well as night to do something in evidence of my pious +obedience, but no opportunity could I find to perform anything filial. +When I had, some time back, to purchase flowers and plants, I succeeded, +thanks to your vast influence, venerable senior, in finally making +friends with several gardeners and in seeing a good number of gardens. +As the other day I unexpectedly came across a white begonia, of a rare +species, I exhausted every possible means to get some and managed to +obtain just two pots. If you, worthy senior, regard your son as your own +very son, do keep them to feast your eyes upon! But with this hot +weather to-day, the young ladies in the garden will, I fear, not be at +their ease. I do not consequently presume to come and see you in person, +so I present you this letter, written with due respect, while knocking +my head before your table. Your son, Yuen, on his knees, lays this +epistle at your feet. A joke!" + +After reading this note, Pao-yue laughed. "Has he come alone?" he asked. +"Or has he any one else with him?" + +"He's got two flower pots as well," rejoined the matron. + +"You go and tell him," Pao-yue urged, "that I've informed myself of the +contents of his note, and that there are few who think of me as he does! +If you also take the flowers and, put them in my room, it will be all +right." + +So saying, he came with Ts'ui Mo into the Ch'iu Shuang study, where he +discovered Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yue, Ying Ch'un and Hsi Ch'un already +assembled. When they saw him drop in upon them, they all burst out +laughing. "Here comes still another!" they exclaimed. + +"I'm not a boor," smiled T'an Ch'un, "so when the idea casually crossed +my mind, I wrote a few notes to try and see who would come. But who'd +have thought that, as soon as I asked you, you would all come." + +"It's unfortunately late," Pao-yue smilingly observed. "We should have +started this society long ago." + +"You can't call this late!" Tai-yue interposed, "so why give way to +regret! The only thing is, you must form your society, without including +me in the number; for I daren't be one of you." + +"If you daren't," Ying Ch'un smiled, "who can presume to do so?" + +"This is," suggested Pao-yue, "a legitimate and great purpose; and we +should all exert our energies. You shouldn't be modest, and I yielding; +but every one of us, who thinks of anything, should freely express it +for general discussion. So senior cousin Pao-ch'ai do make some +suggestion; and you junior cousin Lin Tai-yue say something." + +"What are you in this hurry for?" Pao-ch'ai exclaimed. "We are not all +here yet." + +This remark was barely concluded, when Li Wan also arrived. As soon as +she crossed the threshold, "It's an excellent proposal," she laughingly +cried, "this of starting a poetical society. I recommend myself as +controller. Some time ago in spring, I thought of this, 'but,' I mused, +'I am unable to compose verses, so what's the use of making a mess of +things?' This is why I dispelled the idea from my mind, and made no +mention about it. But since it's your good pleasure, cousin Tertia, to +start it, I'll help you to set it on foot." + +"As you've made up your minds," Tai-yue put in, "to initiate a poetical +society, every one of us will be poets, so we should, as a first step, +do away with those various appellations of cousin and uncle and aunt, +and thus avoid everything that bears a semblance of vulgarity." + +"First rate," exclaimed Li Wan, "and why should we not fix upon some new +designations by which to address ourselves? This will be a far more +refined way! As for my own, I've selected that of the 'Old farmer of Tao +Hsiang;' so let none of you encroach on it." + +"I'll then call myself the 'resident-scholar of the Ch'iu Shuang,' and +have done," T'an Ch'un observed with a smile. + +"'Resident-scholar or master' is, in fact, not to the point. It's +clumsy, besides," Pao-yue interposed. "The place here is full of dryandra +and banana trees, and if one could possibly hit upon some name bearing +upon the dryandra and banana, it would be preferable." + +"I've got one," shouted T'an Ch'un smilingly. "I'll style myself 'the +guest under the banana trees.'" + +"How uncommon!" they unanimously cried. "It's a nice one!" + +"You had better," laughed Tai-yue, "be quick and drag her away and stew +some slices of her flesh, for people to eat with their wine." + +No one grasped her meaning, "Ch'uang-tzu," Tai-yue proceeded to explain, +smiling, "says: 'The banana leaves shelter the deer,' and as she styles +herself the guest under the banana tree, is she not a deer? So be quick +and make pieces of dried venison of her." + +At these words, the whole company laughed. + +"Don't be in a hurry!" T'an Ch'un remarked, as she laughed. "You make +use of specious language to abuse people; but I've thought of a fine and +most apposite name for you!" Whereupon addressing herself to the party, +"In days gone by," she added, "an imperial concubine, Nue Ying, sprinkled +her tears on the bamboo, and they became spots, so from olden times to +the present spotted bamboos have been known as the 'Hsiang imperial +concubine bamboo.' Now she lives in the Hsiao Hsiang lodge, and has a +weakness too for tears, so the bamboos over there will by and bye, I +presume, likewise become transformed into speckled bamboos; every one +therefore must henceforward call her the 'Hsiao Hsiang imperial +concubine' and finish with it." + +After listening to her, they one and all clapped their hands, and cried +out: "Capital!" Lin Tai-yue however drooped her head and did not so much +as utter a single word. + +"I've also," Li Wan smiled, "devised a suitable name for senior cousin, +Hsueeh Pao-chai. It too is one of three characters." + +"What's it?" eagerly inquired the party. + +"I'll raise her to the rank of 'Princess of Heng Wu,'" Li Wan rejoined. +"I wonder what you all think about this." + +"This title of honour," T'an Ch'un observed, "is most apposite." + +"What about mine?" Pao-yue asked. "You should try and think of one for me +also!" + +"Your style has long ago been decided upon," Pao-ch'ai smiled. "It +consists of three words: 'fussing for nothing!' It's most pat!" + +"You should, after all, retain your old name of 'master of the flowers +in the purple cave,'" Li Wan suggested. "That will do very well." + +"Those were some of the doings of my youth; why rake them up again?" +Pao-yue laughed. + +"Your styles are very many," T'an Ch'un observed, "and what do you want +to choose another for? All you've got to do is to make suitable reply +when we call you whatever takes our fancy." + +"I must however give you a name," Pao-ch'ai remarked. "There's a very +vulgar name, but it's just the very thing for you. What is difficult to +obtain in the world are riches and honours; what is not easy to combine +with them is leisure. These two blessings cannot be enjoyed together, +but, as it happens, you hold one along with the other, so that we might +as well dub you the 'rich and honourable idler.'" + +"It won't do; it isn't suitable," Pao-yue laughed. "It's better that you +should call me, at random, whatever you like." + +"What names are to be chosen for Miss Secunda and Miss Quarta?" Li Wan +inquired. + +"We also don't excel in versifying; what's the use consequently of +giving us names, all for no avail?" Ying Ch'un said. + +"In spite of this," argued T'an Ch'un, "it would be well to likewise +find something for you!" + +"She lives in the Tzu Ling Chou, (purple caltrop Isle), so let us call +her 'Ling Chou,'" Pao-ch'ai suggested. "As for that girl Quarta, she +lives in the On Hsiang Hsieh, (lotus fragrance pavilion); she should +thus be called On Hsieh and have done!" + +"These will do very well!" Li Wan cried. "But as far as age goes, I am +the senior, and you should all defer to my wishes; but I feel certain +that when I've told you what they are, you will unanimously agree to +them. We are seven here to form the society, but neither I, nor Miss +Secunda, nor Miss Quarta can write verses; so if you will exclude us +three, we'll each share some special duties." + +"Their names have already been chosen," T'an Ch'un smilingly demurred; +"and do you still keep on addressing them like this? Well, in that case, +won't it be as well for them to have no names? But we must also decide +upon some scale of fines, for future guidance, in the event of any +mistakes." + +"There will be ample time to fix upon a scale of fines after the society +has been definitely established." Li Wan replied. "There's plenty of +room over in my place so let's hold our meetings there. I'm not, it is +true, a good hand at verses, but if you poets won't treat me +disdainfully as a rustic boor, and if you will allow me to play the +hostess, I may certainly also gradually become more and more refined. As +for conceding to me the presidentship of the society, it won't be +enough, of course, for me alone to preside; it will be necessary to +invite two others to serve as vice-presidents; you might then enlist +Ling Chou and Ou Hsieh, both of whom are cultured persons. The one to +choose the themes and assign the metre, the other to act as copyist and +supervisor. We three cannot, however, definitely say that we won't write +verses, for, if we come across any comparatively easy subject and metre, +we too will indite a stanza if we feel so disposed. But you four will +positively have to do so. If you agree to this, well, we can proceed +with the society; but, if you don't fall in with my wishes, I can't +presume to join you." + +Ying Ch'un and Hsi Ch'un had a natural aversion for verses. What is +more, Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai and Lin Tai-yue were present. As soon therefore as +they heard these proposals, which harmonised so thoroughly with their +own views, they both, with one voice, approved them as excellent. T'an +Ch'un and the others were likewise well aware of their object, but they +could not, when they saw with what willingness they accepted the charge +insist, with any propriety, upon their writing verses, and they felt +obliged to say yes. + +"Your proposals," she consequently said, "may be right enough; but in my +views they are ridiculous. For here I've had the trouble of initiating +this idea of a society, and, instead of my having anything to say in the +matter, I've been the means of making you three come and exercise +control over me." + +"Well then," Pao-yue suggested, "let's go to the Tao Hsiang village." + +"You're always in a hurry!" Li Wan remarked. "We're here to-day to +simply deliberate. So wait until I've sent for you again." + +"It would be well," Pao-ch'ai interposed, "that we should also decide +every how many days we are to meet." + +"If we meet too often," argued T'an Ch'un, "there won't be fun in it. We +should simply come together two or three times in a month." + +"It will be ample if we meet twice or thrice a month," Pao-ch'ai added. +"But when the dates have been settled neither wind nor rain should +prevent us. Exclusive, however, of these two days, any one in high +spirits and disposed to have an extra meeting can either ask us to go +over to her place, or you can all come to us; either will do well +enough! But won't it be more pleasant if no hard-and-fast dates were +laid down?" + +"This suggestion is excellent," they all exclaimed. + +"This idea was primarily originated by me," T'an Ch'un observed, "and I +should be the first to play the hostess, so that these good spirits of +mine shouldn't all go for nothing." + +"Well, after this remark," Li Wan proceeded, "what do you say to your +being the first to convene a meeting to-morrow?" + +"To-morrow," T'an Ch'un demurred, "is not as good as to-day; the best +thing is to have it at once! You'd better therefore choose the subjects, +while Ling Chou can fix the metre, and Ou Hsieh act as supervisor." + +"According to my ideas," Ying Ch'un chimed in, "we shouldn't yield to +the wishes of any single person in the choice of themes and the +settlement of the rhythm. What would really be fair and right would be +to draw lots." + +"When I came just now," Li Wan pursued, "I noticed them bring in two +pots of white begonias, which were simply beautiful; and why should you +not write some verses on them?" + +"Can we write verses," Ying Ch'un retorted, "before we have as yet seen +anything of the flowers?" + +"They're purely and simply white begonias," Pao-chai answered, "and is +there again any need to see them before you put together your verses? +Men of old merely indited poetical compositions to express their good +cheer and conceal their sentiments; had they waited to write on things +they had seen, why, the whole number of their works would not be in +existence at present!" + +"In that case," Ying Ch'un said, "let me fix the metre." + +With these words, she walked up to the book-case, and, extracting a +volume, she opened it, at random, at some verses which turned out to be +a heptameter stanza. Then handing it round for general perusal, +everybody had to compose lines with seven words in each. Ying Ch'un next +closed the book of verses and addressed herself to a young waiting-maid. +"Just utter," she bade her, "the first character that comes to your +mouth." + +The waiting-maid was standing, leaning against the door, so readily she +suggested the word "door." + +"The rhyme then will be the word 'door,'" Ying Ch'un smiled, "under the +thirteenth character 'Yuan.' The final word of the first line is +therefore 'door'." + +Saying this, she asked for the box with the rhyme slips, and, pulling +out the thirteenth drawer with the character "Yuan," she directed a +young waiting-maid to take four words as they came under her hand. The +waiting-maid complied with her directions, and picked out four slips, on +which were written "p'en, hun, hen and hun," pot, spirit, traces and +dusk. + +"The two characters pot and door," observed Pao-yue, "are not very easy +to rhyme with." + +But Shih Shu then got ready four lots of paper and pens, share and share +alike, and one and all quietly set to work, racking their brains to +perform their task, with the exception of Tai-yue, who either kept on +rubbing the dryandra flowers, or looking at the autumnal weather, or +bandying jokes as well with the servant-girls; while Ying Ch'un ordered +a waiting-maid to light a "dream-sweet" incense stick. + +This "dream-sweet" stick was, it must be explained, made only about +three inches long and about the thickness of a lamp-wick, in order to +easily burn down. Setting therefore her choice upon one of these as a +limit of time, any one who failed to accomplish the allotted task, by +the time the stick was consumed, had to pay a penalty. + +Presently, T'an Ch'un was the first to think of some verses, and, taking +up her pen, she wrote them down; and, after submitting them to several +alterations, she handed them up to Ying Ch'un. + +"Princess of Heng Wu," she then inquired of Pao-ch'ai, "have you +finished?" + +"As for finishing, I have finished," Pao-ch'ai rejoined; "but they're +worth nothing." + +Pao-yue paced up and down the verandah with his hands behind his back. +"Have you heard?" he thereupon said to Tai-yue, "they've all done!" + +"Don't concern yourself about me!" Tai-yue returned for answer. + +Pao-yue also perceived that Pao-ch'ai had already copied hers out. +"Dreadful!" he exclaimed. "There only remains an inch of the stick and +I've only just composed four lines. The incense stick is nearly burnt +out," he continued, speaking to Tai-yue, "and what do you keep squatting +on that damp ground like that for?" + +But Tai-yue did not again worry her mind about what he said. + +"Well," Pao-yue added, "I can't be looking after you! Whether good or +bad, I'll write mine out too and have done." + +As he spoke, he likewise drew up to the table and began putting his +lines down. + +"We'll now peruse the verses," Li Wan interposed, "and if by the time +we've done, you haven't as yet handed up your papers, you'll have to be +fined." + +"Old farmer of Tao Hsiang," Pao-yue remarked, "you're not, it is true, a +good hand at writing verses, but you can read well, and, what's more, +you're the fairest of the lot; so you'd better adjudge the good and bad, +and we'll submit to your judgment." + +"Of course!" responded the party with one voice. + +In due course, therefore, she first read T'an Ch'un's draft. It ran as +follows:-- + + Verses on the Begonia. + + What time the sun's rays slant, and the grass waxeth cold, close the + double doors. + After a shower of rain, green moss plenteously covers the whole pot. + Beauteous is jade, but yet with thee in purity it cannot ever vie. + Thy frame, spotless as snow, from admiration easy robs me of my wits + Thy fragrant core is like unto a dot, so full of grace, so delicate! + When the moon reacheth the third watch, thy comely shade begins to + show itself. + Do not tell me that a chaste fairy like thee can take wings and pass + away. + How lovely are thy charms, when in thy company at dusk I sing my lay! + +After she had read them aloud, one and all sang their praise for a time. +She then took up Pao-ch'ai's, which consisted of: + + If thou would'st careful tend those fragrant lovely flowers, close of + a day the doors, + And with thine own hands take the can and sprinkle water o'er the + mossy pots. + Red, as if with cosmetic washed, are the shadows in autumn on the + steps. + Their crystal snowy bloom invites the dew on their spirits to heap + itself. + Their extreme whiteness mostly shows that they're more comely than all + other flowers. + When much they grieve, how can their jade-like form lack the traces of + tears? + Would'st thou the god of those white flowers repay? then purity + need'st thou observe. + In silence plunges their fine bloom, now that once more day yields to + dusk. + +"After all," observed Li Wan, "it's the Princess of Heng Wu, who +expresses herself to the point." + +Next they bestowed their attention on the following lines, composed by +Pao-yue:-- + + Thy form in autumn faint reflects against the double doors. + So heaps the snow in the seventh feast that it filleth thy pots. + Thy shade is spotless as Tai Chen, when from her bath she hails. + Like Hsi Tzu's, whose hand ever pressed her heart, jade-like thy soul. + When the morn-ushering breeze falls not, thy thousand blossoms grieve. + To all thy tears the evening shower addeth another trace. + Alone thou lean'st against the coloured rails as if with sense imbued. + As heavy-hearted as the fond wife, beating clothes, or her that sadly + listens to the flute, thou mark'st the fall of dusk. + +When they had perused his verses, Pao-yue opined that T'an Ch'un's +carried the palm. Li Wan was, however, inclined to concede to the +stanza, indited by Pao-ch'ai, the credit of possessing much merit. But +she then went on to tell Tai-yue to look sharp. + +"Have you all done?" Tai-yue asked. + +So saying, she picked up a pen and completing her task, with a few +dashes, she threw it to them to look over. On perusal, Li Wan and her +companions found her verses to run in this strain:-- + + Half rolled the speckled portiere hangs, half closed the door. + Thy mould like broken ice it looks, jade-like thy pot. + +This couplet over, Pao-yue took the initiative and shouted: "Capital." +But he had just had time to inquire where she had recalled them to mind +from, when they turned their mind to the succeeding lines: + + Three points of whiteness from the pear petals thou steal'st; + And from the plum bloom its spirit thou borrowest. + +"Splendid!" every one (who heard) them conned over, felt impelled to +cry. "It is a positive fact," they said, "that her imagination is, +compared with that of others, quite unique." + +But the rest of the composition was next considered. Its text was: + + The fairy in Selene's cavity donneth a plain attire. + The maiden, plunged in autumn grief, dries in her room the prints of + tears. + Winsome she blushes, in silence she's plunged, with none a word she + breathes; + But wearily she leans against the eastern breeze, though dusk has long + since fall'n. + +"This stanza ranks above all!" they unanimously remarked, after it had +been read for their benefit. + +"As regards beauty of thought and originality, this stanza certainly +deserves credit," Li Wan asserted; "but as regards pregnancy and +simplicity of language, it, after all, yields to that of Heng Wu." + +"This criticism is right." T'an Ch'un put in. "That of the Hsiao Hsiang +consort must take second place." + +"Yours, gentleman of I Hung," Li Wan pursued, "is the last of the lot. +Do you agreeably submit to this verdict?" + +"My stanza," Pao-yue ventured, "isn't really worth a straw. Your +criticism is exceedingly fair. But," he smilingly added, "the two poems, +written by Heng Wu and Hsiao Hsiang, have still to be discussed." + +"You should," argued Li Wan, "fall in with my judgment; this is no +business of any of you, so whoever says anything more will have to pay a +penalty." + +Pao-yue at this reply found that he had no alternative but to drop the +subject. + +"I decide that from henceforward," Li Wan proceeded, "we should hold +meetings twice every month, on the second and sixteenth. In the +selection of themes and the settlement of the rhymes, you'll all have +then to do as I wish. But any person who may, during the intervals, feel +so disposed, will be at perfect liberty to choose another day for an +extra meeting. What will I care if there's a meeting every day of the +moon? It will be no concern of mine, so long as when the second and +sixteenth arrive, you do, as you're bound to, and come over to my +place." + +"We should, as is but right," Pao-yue suggested, "choose some name or +other for our society." + +"Were an ordinary one chosen, it wouldn't be nice," T'an Ch'un +explained, "and anything too new-fangled, eccentric or strange won't +also be quite the thing! As luck would have it, we've just started with +the poems on the begonia, so let us call it the 'Begonia Poetical +Society.' This title is, it's true, somewhat commonplace; but as it's +positively based on fact, it shouldn't matter." + +After this proposal of hers, they held further consultation; and +partaking of some slight refreshments, each of them eventually retired. +Some repaired to their quarters. Others went to dowager lady Chia's or +Madame Wang's apartments. But we will leave them without further +comment. + +When Hsi Jen, for we will now come to her, perceived Pao-yue peruse the +note and walk off in a great flurry, along with Ts'ui Mo, she was quite +at a loss what to make of it. Subsequently, she also saw the matrons, on +duty at the back gate, bring two pots of begonias. Hsi Jen inquired of +them where they came from. The women explained to her all about them. As +soon as Hsi Jen heard their reply, she at once desired them to put the +flowers in their proper places, and asked them to sit down in the lower +rooms. She then entered the house, and, weighing six mace of silver, she +wrapped it up properly, and fetching besides three hundred cash, she +came over and handed both the amounts to the two matrons. "This silver," +she said, "is a present for the boys, who carried the flowers; and these +cash are for you to buy yourselves a cup of tea with." + +The women rose to their feet in such high glee that their eyebrows +dilated and their eyes smiled; but, though they waxed eloquent in the +expression of their deep gratitude, they would not accept the money. It +was only after they had perceived how obstinate Hsi Jen was in not +taking it back that they at last volunteered to keep it. + +"Are there," Hsi Jen then inquired, "any servant-boys on duty outside +the back gate?" + +"There are four of them every day," answered one of the matrons. +"They're put there with the sole idea of attending to any orders that +might be given them from inside. But, Miss, if you've anything to order +them to do, we'll go and deliver your message." + +"What orders can I have to give them?" Hsi Jen laughed. "Mr. Pao, our +master Secundus, was purposing to send some one to-day to the young +marquis' house to take something over to Miss Shih. But you come at an +opportune moment so you might, on your way out, tell the servant-boys at +the back gate to hire a carriage; and on its return you can come here +and get the money. But don't let them rush recklessly against people in +the front part of the compound!" + +The matrons signified their obedience and took their leave. Hsi Jen +retraced her steps into the house to fetch a tray in which to place the +presents intended for Shih Hsiang-yuen, but she discovered the shelf for +trays empty. Upon turning round, however, she caught sight of Ch'ing +Wen, Ch'iu Wen, She Yueeh and the other girls, seated together, busy with +their needlework. "Where is the white cornelian tray with twisted +threads gone to?" Hsi Jen asked. + +At this question, one looked at the one, and the other stared at the +other, but none of them could remember anything about it. After a +protracted lapse of time, Ch'ing Wen smiled. "It was taken to Miss +Tertia's with a present of lichees," she rejoined, "and it hasn't as yet +been returned." + +"There are plenty of articles," Hsi Jen remarked, "for sending over +things on ordinary occasions; and do you deliberately go and carry this +off?" + +"Didn't I maintain the same thing?" Ch'ing Wen retorted. "But so well +did this tray match with the fresh lichees it contained, that when I +took it over, Miss T'an Ch'un herself noticed the fact. 'How splendid,' +she said, and lo, putting even the tray by, she never had it brought +over. But, look! hasn't the pair of beaded vases, which stood on the +very top of that shelf, been fetched as yet?" + +"The mention of these vases," Ch'iu Wen laughed, "reminds me again of a +funny incident. Whenever our Mr. Pao-yue's filial piety is aroused, he +shows himself filial over and above the highest degree! The other day, +he espied the olea flowers in the park, and he plucked two twigs. His +original idea was to place them in a vase for himself, but a sudden +thought struck him. 'These are flowers,' he mused, 'which have newly +opened in our garden, so how can I presume to be the first to enjoy +them?' And actually taking down that pair of vases, he filled them with +water with his own hands, put the flowers in, and, calling a servant to +carry them, he in person took one of the vases into dowager lady Chia's, +and then took the other to Madame Wang's. But, as it happens, even his +attendants reap some benefit, when once his filial feelings are stirred +up! As luck would have it, the one who carried the vases over on that +day was myself. The sight of these flowers so enchanted our venerable +lady that there was nothing that she wouldn't do. 'Pao-yue,' she said to +every one she met, 'is the one, after all, who shows me much attention. +So much so, that he has even thought of bringing me a twig of flowers! +And yet, the others bear me a grudge on account of the love that I +lavish on him!' Our venerable mistress, you all know very well, has +never had much to say to me. I have all along not been much of a +favourite in the old lady's eyes. But on that occasion she verily +directed some one to give me several hundreds of cash. 'I was to be +pitied,' she observed, 'for being born with a weak physique!' This was, +indeed, an unforeseen piece of good luck! The several hundreds of cash +are a mere trifle; but what's not easy to get is this sort of honour! +After that, we went over into Madame Wang's. Madame Wang was, at the +time, with our lady Secunda, Mrs. Chao, and a whole lot of people; +turning the boxes topsy-turvey, trying to find some coloured clothes her +ladyship had worn long ago in her youth, so as to give them to some one +or other. Who it was, I don't know. But the moment she saw us, she did +not even think of searching for any clothes, but got lost in admiration +for the flowers. Our lady Secunda was also standing by, and she made +sport of the matter. She extolled our master Pao, for his filial piety +and for his knowledge of right and wrong; and what with what was true +and what wasn't, she came out with two cart-loads of compliments. These +things spoken in the presence of the whole company so added to Madame +Wang's lustre and sealed every one's mouth, that her ladyship was more +and more filled with gratification, and she gave me two ready-made +clothes as a present. These too are of no consequence; one way or +another, we get some every year; but nothing can come up to this sort of +lucky chance!" + +"Psha!" Ch'ing Wen ejaculated with a significant smile, "you are indeed +a mean thing, who has seen nothing of the world! She gave the good ones +to others and the refuse to you; and do you still pat on all this side?" + +"No matter whether what she gave me was refuse or not," Ch'iu Wen +protested, "it's, after all, an act of bounty on the part of her +ladyship." + +"Had it been myself," Ch'ing Wen pursued, "I would at once have refused +them! It wouldn't have mattered if she had given me what had been left +by some one else; but we all stand on an equal footing in these rooms, +and is there any one, forsooth, so much the more exalted or honorable +than the other as to justify her taking what is good and bestowing it +upon her and giving me what is left? I had rather not take them! I might +have had to give offence to Madame Wang, but I wouldn't have put up with +such a slight!" + +"To whom did she give any in these rooms?" Ch'iu Wen vehemently +inquired. "I was unwell and went home for several days, so that I am not +aware to whom any were given. Dear sister, do tell me who it is so that +I may know." + +"Were I to tell you," Ch'ing Wen rejoined, "is it likely that you would +return them at this hour to Madame Wang?" + +"What nonsense," Ch'iu Wen laughed. "Ever since I've heard about it, +I've been delighted and happy. No matter if she even bestowed upon me +what remained from anything given to a dog in these rooms, I would have +been thankful for her ladyship's kindness. I wouldn't have worried my +mind with anything else!" + +After listening to her, everybody laughed. "Doesn't she know how to jeer +in fine style!" they ejaculated unanimously; "for weren't they given to +that foreign spotted pug dog?" + +"You lot of filthy-tongued creatures!" Hsi Jen laughed, "when you've got +nothing to do, you make me the scapegoat to crack your jokes, and poke +your fun at! But what kind of death will, I wonder, each of you have!" + +"Was it verily you, sister, who got them?" Ch'iu Wen asked with a smile. +"I assure you I had no idea about it! I tender you my apologies." + +"You might be a little less domineering!" Hsi Jen remarked smilingly. +"The thing now is, who of you will go and fetch the tray." + +"The vases too," Shih Yueeh suggested, "must be got back when there's any +time to spare; for there's nothing to say about our venerable mistress' +quarters, but Madame Wang's apartments teem with people and many hands. +The rest are all right; but Mrs. Chao and all that company will, when +they see that the vase hails from these rooms, surely again foster evil +designs, and they won't feel happy until they've done all they can to +spoil it! Besides, Madame Wang doesn't trouble herself about such +things. So had we not as well bring it over a moment sooner?" + +Hearing this, Ch'ing Wen threw down her needlework. "What you say is +perfectly right," she assented, "so you'd better let me go and fetch +it." + +"I'll, after all, go for it." Ch'iu Wen cried. "You can go and get that +tray of yours!" + +"You should let me once go for something!" Ch'ing Wen pleaded. "Whenever +any lucky chance has turned up, you've invariably grabbed it; and can it +be that you won't let me have a single turn?" + +"Altogether," She Yueeh said laughingly, "that girl Ch'iu Wen got a few +clothes just once; can such a lucky coincidence present itself again +today that you too should find them engaged in searching for clothes?" + +"Albeit I mayn't come across any clothes," Ch'ing Wen rejoined with a +sardonic smile, "our Madame Wang may notice how diligent I am, and +apportion me a couple of taels out of her public expenses; there's no +saying." Continuing, "Don't you people," she laughed, "try and play your +pranks with me; for is there anything that I don't twig?" + +As she spoke, she ran outside. Ch'iu Wen too left the room in her +company; but she repaired to T'an Ch'un's quarters and fetched the tray. + +Hsi Jen then got everything ready. Calling an old nurse attached to the +same place as herself, Sung by name, "Just go first and wash, comb your +hair and put on your out-of-door clothes," she said to her, "and then +come back as I want to send you at once with a present to Miss Shih." + +"Miss," urged the nurse Sung, "just give me what you have; and, if you +have any message, tell it me; so that when I've tidied myself I may go +straightway." + +Hsi Jen, at this proposal, brought two small twisted wire boxes; and, +opening first the one in which were two kinds of fresh fruits, +consisting of caltrops and "chicken head" fruit, and afterwards +uncovering the other, containing a tray with new cakes, made of chestnut +powder, and steamed in sugar, scented with the olea, "All these fresh +fruits are newly plucked this year from our own garden," she observed; +"our Mr. Secundus sends them to Miss Shih to taste. The other day, too, +she was quite taken with this cornelian tray so let her keep it for her +use. In this silk bag she'll find the work, which she asked me some time +ago to do for her. (Tell her) that she mustn't despise it for its +coarseness, but make the best of it and turn it to some account. Present +respects to her from our part and inquire after her health on behalf of +Mr. Pao-yue; that will be all there's to say." + +"Has Mr. Pao, I wonder, anything more for me to tell her?" the nurse +Sung added, "Miss, do go and inquire, so that on my return, he mayn't +again say that I forgot." + +"He was just now," Hsi Jen consequently asked Ch'iu Wen, "over there in +Miss Tertia's rooms, wasn't he?" + +"They were all assembled there, deliberating about starting some +poetical society or other," Ch'iu Wen explained, "and they all wrote +verses too. But I fancy he's got no message to give you; so you might as +well start." + +After this assurance, nurse Sung forthwith took the things, and quitted +the apartment. When she had changed her clothes and arranged her hair, +Hsi Jen further enjoined them to go by the back door, where there was a +servant-boy, waiting with a curricle. Nurse Sung thereupon set out on +her errand. But we will leave her for the present. + +In a little time Pao-yue came back. After first cursorily glancing at the +begonias for a time, he walked into his rooms, and explained to Hsi Jen +all about the poetical society they had managed to establish, Hsi Jen +then told him that she had sent the nurse Sung along with some things, +to Shih Hsiang-yuen. As soon as Pao-yue heard this, he clapped his hands. +"I forgot all about her!" he cried. "I knew very well that I had +something to attend to; but I couldn't remember what it was! Luckily, +you've alluded to her! I was just meaning to ask her to come, for what +fun will there be in this poetical society without her?" + +"Is this of any serious import?" Hsi Jen reasoned with him. "It's all, +for the mere sake of recreation! She's not however able to go about at +her own free will as you people do. Nor can she at home have her own +way. When you therefore let her know, it won't again rest with her, +however willing she may be to avail herself of your invitation. And if +she can't come, she will long and crave to be with you all, so isn't it +better that you shouldn't be the means of making her unhappy?" + +"Never mind!" responded Pao-yue. "I'll tell our venerable senior to +despatch some one to bring her over." + +But in the middle of their conversation, nurse Sung returned already +from her mission, and expressed to him, (Hsiang-yuen's) acknowledgment; +and to Hsi Jen her thanks for the trouble. "She also inquired," the +nurse proceeded, "what you, master Secundus, were up to, and I told her +that you had started some poetical club or other with the young ladies +and that you were engaged in writing verses. Miss Shih wondered why it +was, if you were writing verses, that you didn't even mention anything +to her; and she was extremely distressed about it." + +Pao-yue, at these words, turned himself round and betook himself +immediately into his grandmother's apartments, where he did all that lay +in his power to urge her to depute servants to go and fetch her. + +"It's too late to-day," dowager lady Chia answered; "they'll go +tomorrow, as soon as it's daylight." + +Pao-yue had no other course but to accede to her wishes. He, however, +retraced his steps back to his room with a heavy heart. On the morrow, +at early dawn, he paid another visit to old lady Chia and brought +pressure to bear on her until she sent some one for her. Soon after +midday, Shih Hsiang-yuen arrived. Pao-yue felt at length much relieved in +his mind. Upon meeting her, he recounted to her all that had taken place +from beginning to end. His purpose was likewise to let her see the +poetical composition, but Li Wan and the others remonstrated. "Don't," +they said, "allow her to see them! First tell her the rhymes and number +of feet; and, as she comes late, she should, as a first step, pay a +penalty by conforming to the task we had to do. Should what she writes +be good, then she can readily be admitted as a member of the society; +but if not good, she should be further punished by being made to stand a +treat; after which, we can decide what's to be done." + +"You've forgotten to ask me round," Hsiang-yuen laughed, "and I should, +after all, fine you people! But produce the metre; for though I don't +excel in versifying, I shall exert myself to do the best I can, so as to +get rid of every slur. If you will admit me into the club, I shall be +even willing to sweep the floors and burn the incense." + +When they all saw how full of fun she was, they felt more than ever +delighted with her and they reproached themselves, for having somehow or +other managed to forget her on the previous day. But they lost no time +in telling her the metre of the verses. + +Shih Hsiang-yuen was inwardly in ecstasies. So much so, that she could +not wait to beat the tattoo and effect any alterations. But having +succeeded, while conversing with her cousins, in devising a stanza in +her mind, she promptly inscribed it on the first piece of paper that +came to hand. "I have," she remarked, with a precursory smile, "stuck to +the metre and written two stanzas. Whether they be good or bad, I cannot +say; all I've kept in view was to simply comply with your wishes." + +So speaking, she handed her paper to the company. + +"We thought our four stanzas," they observed, "had so thoroughly +exhausted everything that could be imagined on the subject that another +stanza was out of the question, and there you've devised a couple more! +How could there be so much to say? These must be mere repetitions of our +own sentiments." + +While bandying words, they perused her two stanzas. They found this to +be their burden: + +No. 1. + + The fairies yesterday came down within the city gates, + And like those gems, sown in the grassy field, planted one pot. + How clear it is that the goddess of frost is fond of cold! + It is no question of a pretty girl bent upon death! + Where does the snow, which comes in gloomy weather, issue from? + The drops of rain increase the prints, left from the previous night. + How the flowers rejoice that bards are not weary of song! + But are they ever left to spend in peace a day or night? + +No. 2. + + The "heng chih" covered steps lead to the creeper-laden door. + How fit to plant by the corner of walls; how fit for pots? + The flowers so relish purity that they can't find a mate. + Easy in autumn snaps the soul of sorrow-wasted man. + The tears, which from the jade-like candle drip, dry in the wind. + The crystal-like portiere asunder rends Selene's rays. + Their private feelings to the moon goddess they longed to tell, + But gone, alas! is the lustre she shed on the empty court! + +Every line filled them with wonder and admiration. What they read, they +praised. "This," they exclaimed, with one consent, "is not writing +verses on the begonia for no purpose! We must really start a Begonia +Society!" + +"To-morrow," Shih Hsiang-yuen proposed, "first fine me by making me stand +a treat, and letting me be the first to convene a meeting; may I?" + +"This would be far better!" they all assented. So producing also the +verses, composed the previous day, they submitted them to her for +criticism. + +In the evening, Hsiang-yuen came at the invitation of Pao-ch'ai, to the +Heng Wu Yuean to put up with her for the night. By lamplight, Hsiang-yuen +consulted with her how she was to play the hostess and fix upon the +themes; but, after lending a patient ear to all her proposals for a long +time, Pao-ch'ai thought them so unsuitable for the occasion, that +turning towards her, she raised objections. "If you want," she said, "to +hold a meeting, you have to pay the piper. And albeit it's for mere fun, +you have to make every possible provision; for while consulting your own +interests, you must guard against giving umbrage to people. In that case +every one will afterwards be happy and contented. You count for nothing +too in your own home; and the whole lump sum of those few tiaos, you +draw each month, are not sufficient for your own wants, and do you now +also wish to burden yourself with this useless sort of thing? Why, if +your aunt gets wind of it, won't she be more incensed with you than +ever! What's more, even though you might fork out all the money you can +call your own to bear the outlay of this entertainment with, it won't be +anything like enough, and can it possibly be, pray, that you would go +home for the express purpose of requisitioning the necessary funds? Or +will you perchance ask for some from in here?" + +This long tirade had the effect of bringing the true facts of the case +to Hsiang-yuen's notice, and she began to waver in a state of +uncertainty. + +"I have already fixed upon a plan in my mind," Pao-ch'ai resumed. +"There's an assistant in our pawnshop from whose family farm come some +splendid crabs. Some time back, he sent us a few as a present, and now, +starting from our venerable senior and including the inmates of the +upper quarters, most of them are quite in love with crabs. It was only +the other day that my mother mentioned that she intended inviting our +worthy ancestor into the garden to look at the olea flowers and partake +of crabs, but she has had her hands so full that she hasn't as yet asked +her round. So just you now drop the poetical meeting, and invite the +whole crowd to a show; and if we wait until they go, won't we be able to +indite as many poems as we like? But let me speak to my brother and ask +him to let us have several baskets of the fattest and largest crabs he +can get, and to also go to some shop and fetch several jars of luscious +wine. And if we then lay out four or five tables with plates full of +refreshments, won't we save trouble and all have a jolly time as well?" + +As soon as Hsiang-yuen heard (the alternative proposed by Pao-ch'ai,) she +felt her heart throb with gratitude and in most profuse terms she +praised her for her forethought. + +"The proposal I've made." Pao-ch'ai pursued smilingly; "is prompted +entirely by my sincere feelings for you; so whatever you do don't be +touchy and imagine that I look down upon you; for in that case we two +will have been good friends all in vain. But if you won't give way to +suspicion, I'll be able to tell them at once to go and get things +ready." + +"My dear cousin," eagerly rejoined Hsiang-yuen, a smile on her lips, "if +you say these things it's you who treat me with suspicion; for no matter +how foolish a person I may be, as not to even know what's good and bad, +I'm still a human being! Did I not regard you, cousin, in the same light +as my own very sister, I wouldn't last time have had any wish or +inclination to disclose to you every bit of those troubles, which +ordinarily fall to my share at home." + +After listening to these assurances, Pao-ch'ai summoned a matron and +bade her go out and tell her master, Hsueeh P'an, to procure a few +hampers of crabs of the same kind as those which were sent on the +previous occasion. "Our venerable senior," (she said,) "and aunt Wang +are asked to come to-morrow after their meal and admire the olea +flowers, so mind, impress upon your master to please not forget, as I've +already to-day issued the invitations." + +The matron walked out of the garden and distinctly delivered the +message. But, on her return, she brought no reply. + +During this while, Pao-ch'ai continued her conversation with Hsiang-yuen. +"The themes for the verses," she advised her, "mustn't also be too +out-of-the-way. Just search the works of old writers, and where will you +find any eccentric and peculiar subjects, or any extra difficult metre! +If the subject be too much out-of-the-way and the metre too difficult, +one cannot get good verses. In a word, we are a mean lot and our verses +are certain, I fear, to consist of mere repetitions. Nor is it advisable +for us to aim at excessive originality. The first thing for us to do is +to have our ideas clear, as our language will then not be commonplace. +In fact, this sort of thing is no vital matter; spinning and needlework +are, in a word, the legitimate duties of you and me. Yet, if we can at +any time afford the leisure, it's only right and proper that we should +take some book, that will benefit both body and mind, and read a few +chapters out of it." + +Hsiang-yuen simply signified her assent. "I'm now cogitating in my mind," +she then laughingly remarked, "that as the verses we wrote yesterday +treated of begonias, we should, I think, compose on this occasion some +on chrysanthemums, eh? What do you say?" + +"Chrysanthemums are in season," Pao-ch'ai replied. "The only objection +to them is that too many writers of old have made them the subject of +their poems." + +"I also think so," Hsiang-yuen added, "so that, I fear, we shall only be +following in their footsteps." + +After some reflection, Pao-ch'ai exclaimed, "I've hit upon something! If +we take, for the present instance, the chrysanthemums as a secondary +term, and man as the primary, we can, after all, select several themes. +But they must all consist of two characters: the one, an empty word; the +other, a full one. The full word might be chrysanthemums; while for the +empty one, we might employ some word in general use. In this manner, we +shall, on one hand, sing the chrysanthemum; and, on the other, compose +verses on the theme. And as old writers have not written much in this +style, it will be impossible for us to drift into the groove of their +ideas. Thus in versifying on the scenery and in singing the objects, we +will, in both respects, combine originality with liberality of thought." + +"This is all very well," smiled Hsiang-yuen. "The only thing is what kind +of empty words will, I wonder, be best to use? Just you first think of +one and let me see." + +Pao-ch'ai plunged in thought for a time, after which she laughingly +remarked: "Dream of chrysanthemums is good." + +"It's positively good!" Hsiang-yuen smiled. "I've also got one: 'the +Chrysanthemum shadow,' will that do?" + +"Well enough," Pao-ch'ai answered, "the only objection is that people +have written on it; yet if the themes are to be many, we might throw +this in. I've got another one too!" + +"Be quick, and tell it!" Hsiang-yuen urged. + +"What do you say to 'ask the Chrysanthemums?'" Pao-ch'ai observed. + +Hsiang-yuen clapped her hand on the table. "Capital," she cried. "I've +thought of one also." She then quickly continued, "It is, search for +chrysanthemums; what's your idea about it?" + +Pao-ch'ai thought that too would do very well. "Let's choose ten of them +first," she next proposed; "and afterwards note them down!" + +While talking, they rubbed the ink and moistened the pens. These +preparations over, Hsiang-yuen began to write, while Pao-ch'ai enumerated +the themes. In a short time, they got ten of them. + +"Ten don't form a set," Hsiang-yuen went on to smilingly suggest, after +reading them over. "We'd better complete them by raising their number to +twelve; they'll then also be on the same footing as people's pictures +and books." + +Hearing this proposal, Pao-ch'ai devised another couple of themes, thus +bringing them to a dozen. "Well, since we've got so far," she pursued, +"let's go one step further and copy them out in their proper order, +putting those that are first, first; and those that come last, last." + +"It would be still better like that," Hsiang-yuen acquiesced, "as we'll +be able to make up a 'chrysanthemum book.'" + +"The first stanza should be: 'Longing for chrysanthemums,'" Pao-chai +said, "and as one cannot get them by wishing, and has, in consequence, +to search for them, the second should be 'searching for chrysanthemums.' +After due search, one finds them, and plants them, so the third must be: +'planting chrysanthemums.' After they've been planted, they, blossom, +and one faces them and enjoys them, so the fourth should be 'facing the +chrysanthemums.' By facing them, one derives such excessive delight that +one plucks them and brings them in and puts them in vases for one's own +delectation, so the fifth must be 'placing chrysanthemums in vases.' If +no verses are sung in their praise, after they've been placed in vases, +it's tantamount to seeing no point of beauty in chrysanthemums, so the +sixth must be 'sing about chrysanthemums.' After making them the burden +of one's song, one can't help representing them in pictures. The seventh +place should therefore be conceded to 'drawing chrysanthemums.' Seeing +that in spite of all the labour bestowed on the drawing of +chrysanthemums, the fine traits there may be about them are not yet, in +fact, apparent, one impulsively tries to find them out by inquiries, so +the eighth should be 'asking the chrysanthemums.' As any perception, +which the chrysanthemums might display in fathoming the questions set +would help to make the inquirer immoderately happy, the ninth must be +'pinning the chrysanthemums in the hair.' And as after everything has +been accomplished, that comes within the sphere of man, there will +remain still some chrysanthemums about which something could be written, +two stanzas on the 'shadow of the chrysanthemums,' and the 'dream about +chrysanthemums' must be tagged on as numbers ten and eleven. While the +last section should be 'the withering of the chrysanthemums' so as to +bring to a close the sentiments expressed in the foregoing subjects. In +this wise the fine scenery and fine doings of the third part of autumn, +will both alike be included in our themes." + +Hsiang-yuen signified her approval, and taking the list she copied it out +clean. But after once more passing her eye over it, she went on to +inquire what rhymes should be determined upon. + +"I do not, as a rule, like hard-and-fast rhymes," Pao-ch'ai retorted. +"It's evident enough that we can have good verses without them, so +what's the use of any rhymes to shackle us? Don't let us imitate that +mean lot of people. Let's simply choose our subject and pay no notice to +rhymes. Our main object is to see whether we cannot by chance hit upon +some well-written lines for the sake of fun. It isn't to make this the +means of subjecting people to perplexities." + +"What you say is perfectly right," Hsiang-yuen observed. "In this manner +our poetical composition will improve one step higher. But we only +muster five members, and there are here twelve themes. Is it likely that +each one of us will have to indite verses on all twelve?" + +"That would be far too hard on the members!" Pao-ch'ai rejoined. "But +let's copy out the themes clean, for lines with seven words will have to +be written on every one, and stick them to-morrow on the wall for +general perusal. Each member can write on the subject which may be most +in his or her line. Those, with any ability, may choose all twelve. +While those, with none, may only limit themselves to one stanza. Both +will do. Those, however, who will show high mental capacity, combined +with quickness, will be held the best. But any one, who shall have +completed all twelve themes, won't be permitted to hasten and begin over +again; we'll have to fine such a one, and finish." + +"Yes, that will do," assented Hsiang-yuen. But after settling everything +satisfactorily, they extinguished the lamp and went to bed. + +Reader, do you want to know what subsequently took place? If you do, +then listen to what is contained in the way of explanation in the +following chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + Lin Hsiao-Hsiang carries the first prize in the poems on + chrysanthemums. + Hsueh Heng-wu chaffs Pao-yue by composing verses in the same style as + his on the crabs. + + +After Pao-ch'ai and Hsiang-yuen, we will now explain, settled everything +in their deliberations, nothing memorable occurred, the whole night, +which deserves to be put on record. + +The next day, Hsiang-yuen invited dowager lady Chia and her other +relatives to come and look at the olea flowers. Old lady Chia and every +one else answered that as she had had the kind attention to ask them, +they felt it their duty to avail themselves of her gracious invitation, +much though they would be putting her to trouble and inconvenience. At +twelve o'clock, therefore, old lady Chia actually took with her Madame +Wang and lady Feng, as well as Mrs. Hsueeh and other members of her +family whom she had asked to join them, and repaired into the garden. + +"Which is the best spot?" old lady Chia inquired. + +"We are ready to go wherever you may like, dear senior," Madame Wang +ventured in response. + +"A collation has already been spread in the Lotus Fragrance Arbour," +lady Feng interposed. "Besides, the two olea plants, on that hill, +yonder, are now lovely in their full blossom, and the water of that +stream is jade-like and pellucid, so if we sit in the pavilion in the +middle of it, won't we enjoy an open and bright view? It will be +refreshing too to our eyes to watch the pool." + +"Quite right!" assented dowager lady Chia at this suggestion; and while +expressing her approbation, she ushered her train of followers into the +Arbour of Lotus Fragrance. + +This Arbour of Lotus Fragrance had, in fact, been erected in the centre +of the pool. It had windows on all four sides. On the left and on the +right, stood covered passages, which spanned the stream and connected +with the hills. At the back, figured a winding bridge. + +As the party ascended the bamboo bridge, lady Feng promptly advanced and +supported dowager lady Chia. "Venerable ancestor," she said, "just walk +boldly and with confident step; there's nothing to fear; it's the way of +these bamboo bridges to go on creaking like this." + +Presently, they entered the arbour. Here they saw two additional bamboo +tables, placed beyond the balustrade. On the one, were arranged cups, +chopsticks and every article necessary for drinking wine. On the other, +were laid bamboo utensils for tea, a tea-service and various cups and +saucers. On the off side, two or three waiting-maids were engaged in +fanning the stove to boil the water for tea. On the near side were +visible several other girls, who were trying with their fans to get a +fire to light in the stove so as to warm the wines. + +"It was a capital idea," dowager lady Chia hastily exclaimed laughingly +with vehemence, "to bring tea here. What's more, the spot and the +appurtenances are alike so spick and span!" + +"These things were brought by cousin Pao-ch'ai," Hsiang-yuen smilingly +explained, "so I got them ready." + +"This child is, I say, so scrupulously particular," old lady Chia +observed, "that everything she does is thoroughly devised." + +As she gave utterance to her feelings, her attention was attracted by a +pair of scrolls of black lacquer, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, suspended +on the pillars, and she asked Hsiang-yuen to tell her what the mottoes +were. + +The text she read was: + + Snapped is the shade of the hibiscus by the fragrant oar of a boat + homeward bound. + Deep flows the perfume of the lily and the lotus underneath the bamboo + bridge. + +After listening to the motto, old lady Chia raised her head and cast a +glance upon the tablet; then turning round: "Long ago, when I was +young," she observed, addressing herself to Mrs. Hsueeh, "we likewise had +at home a pavilion like this called 'the Hall reclining on the russet +clouds,' or some other such name. At that time, I was of the same age as +the girls, and my wont was to go day after day and play with my sisters +there. One day, I, unexpectedly, slipped and fell into the water, and I +had a narrow escape from being drowned; for it was after great +difficulty, that they managed to drag me out safe and sound. But my head +was, after all, bumped about against the wooden nails; so much so, that +this hole of the length of a finger, which you can see up to this day on +my temple, comes from the bruises I sustained. All my people were in a +funk that I'd be the worse for this ducking and continued in fear and +trembling lest I should catch a chill. 'It was dreadful, dreadful!' they +opined, but I managed, little though every one thought it, to keep in +splendid health." + +Lady Feng allowed no time to any one else to put in a word; but +anticipating them: "Had you then not survived, who would now be enjoying +these immense blessings!" she smiled. "This makes it evident that no +small amount of happiness and long life were in store for you, venerable +ancestor, from your very youth up! It was by the agency of the spirits +that this hole was knocked open so that they might fill it up with +happiness and longevity! The old man Shou Hsing had, in fact, a hole in +his head, which was so full of every kind of blessing conducive to +happiness and long life that it bulged up ever so high!" + +Before, however, she could conclude, dowager lady Chia and the rest were +convulsed with such laughter that their bodies doubled in two. + +"This monkey is given to dreadful tricks!" laughed old lady Chia. "She's +always ready to make a scapegoat of me to evoke amusement. But would +that I could take that glib mouth of yours and rend it in pieces." + +"It's because I feared that the cold might, when you by and bye have +some crabs to eat, accumulate in your intestines," lady Feng pleaded, +"that I tried to induce you, dear senior, to have a laugh, so as to make +you gay and merry. For one can, when in high spirits, indulge in a +couple of them more with impunity." + +"By and bye," smiled old lady Chia, "I'll make you follow me day and +night, so that I may constantly be amused and feel my mind diverted; I +won't let you go back to your home." + +"It's that weakness of yours for her, venerable senior," Madame Wang +observed with a smile, "that has got her into the way of behaving in +this manner, and, if you go on speaking to her as you do, she'll soon +become ever so much the more unreasonable." + +"I like her such as she is," dowager lady Chia laughed. "Besides, she's +truly no child, ignorant of the distinction between high and low. When +we are at home, with no strangers present, we ladies should be on terms +like these, and as long, in fact, as we don't overstep propriety, it's +all right. If not, what would he the earthly use of making them behave +like so many saints?" + +While bandying words, they entered the pavilion in a body. After tea, +lady Feng hastened to lay out the cups and chopsticks. At the upper +table then seated herself old lady Chia, Mrs. Hsueeh, Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yue +and Pao-yue. Round the table, on the east, sat Shih Hsiang-yuen, Madame +Wang, Ying Ch'un, T'an Ch'un and Hsi Ch'un. At the small table, leaning +against the door on the west side, Li Wan and lady Feng assigned +themselves places. But it was for the mere sake of appearances, as +neither of them ventured to sit down, but remained in attendance at the +two tables, occupied by old lady Chia and Madame Wang. + +"You'd better," lady Feng said, "not bring in too many crabs at a time. +Throw these again into the steaming-basket! Only serve ten; and when +they're eaten, a fresh supply can be fetched!" + +Asking, at the same time, for water, she washed her hands, and, taking +her position near dowager lady Chia, she scooped out the meat from a +crab, and offered the first help to Mrs. Hsueeh. + +"They'll be sweeter were I to open them with my own hands," Mrs. Hsueeh +remarked, "there's no need for any one to serve me." + +Lady Feng, therefore, presented it to old lady Chia and handed a second +portion to Pao-yue. + +"Make the wine as warm as possible and bring it in!" she then went on to +cry. "Go," she added, directing the servant-girls, "and fetch the +powder, made of green beans, and scented with the leaves of +chrysanthemums and the stamens of the olea fragrans; and keep it ready +to rinse our hands with." + +Shih Hsiang-yuen had a crab to bear the others company, but no sooner had +she done than she retired to a lower seat, from where she helped her +guests. When she, however, walked out a second time to give orders to +fill two dishes and send them over to Mrs. Chao, she perceived lady Feng +come up to her again. "You're not accustomed to entertaining," she said, +"so go and have your share to eat. I'll attend to the people for you +first, and, when they've gone, I'll have all I want." + +Hsiang-yuen would not agree to her proposal. But giving further +directions to the servants to spread two tables under the verandah on +the off-side, she pressed Yuean Yang, Hu Po, Ts'ai Hsia, Ts'ai Yuen and +P'ing Erh to go and seat themselves. + +"Lady Secunda," consequently ventured Yuean Yang, "you're in here doing +the honours, so may I go and have something to eat?" + +"You can all go," replied lady Feng; "leave everything in my charge, and +it will be all right." + +While these words were being spoken, Shih Hsiang-yuen resumed her place +at the banquet. Lady Feng and Li Wan then took hurry-scurry something to +eat as a matter of form; but lady Feng came down once more to look after +things. After a time, she stepped out on the verandah where Yuean Yang +and the other girls were having their refreshments in high glee. As soon +as they caught sight of her, Yuan Yang and her companions stood up. +"What has your ladyship come out again for?" they inquired. "Do let us +also enjoy a little peace and quiet!" + +"This chit Yuean Yang is worse than ever!" lady Feng laughed. "Here I'm +slaving away for you, and, instead of feeling grateful to me, you bear +me a grudge! But don't you yet quick pour me a cup of wine?" + +Yuean Yang immediately smiled, and filling a cup, she applied it to lady +Feng's lips. Lady Feng stretched out her neck and emptied it. But Hu Po +and Ts'ai Hsia thereupon likewise replenished a cup and put it to lady +Feng's mouth. Lady Feng swallowed the contents of that as well. P'ing +Erh had, by this time, brought her some yellow meat which she had picked +out from the shell. "Pour plenty of ginger and vinegar!" shouted lady +Feng, and, in a moment, she made short work of that too. "You people," +she smiled, "had better sit down and have something to eat, for I'm off +now." + +"You brazen-faced thing," exclaimed Yuean Yang laughingly, "to eat what +was intended for us!" + +"Don't be so captious with me!" smiled lady Feng. "Are you aware that +your master Secundus, Mr. Lien, has taken such a violent fancy to you +that he means to speak to our old lady to let you be his secondary +wife!" + +Yuean Yang blushed crimson. "Ts'ui!" she shouted. "Are these really words +to issue from the mouth of a lady! But if I don't daub your face all +over with my filthy hands, I won't feel happy!" + +Saying this, she rushed up to her. She was about to besmear her face, +when lady Feng pleaded: "My dear child, do let me off this time!" + +"Lo, that girl Yuean," laughed Hu Po, "wishes to smear her, and that +hussey P'ing still spares her! Look here, she has scarcely had two +crabs, and she has drunk a whole saucerful of vinegar!" + +P'ing Erh was holding a crab full of yellow meat, which she was in the +act of cleaning. As soon therefore as she heard this taunt, she came, +crab in hand, to spatter Hu Po's face, as she laughingly reviled her. +"I'll take you minx with that cajoling tongue of yours" she cried, +"and...." + +But, Hu Po, while also indulging in laughter, drew aside; so P'ing Erh +beat the air, and fell forward, daubing, by a strange coincidence, the +cheek of lady Feng. Lady Feng was at the moment having a little +good-humoured raillery with Yuean Yang, and was taken so much off her +guard, that she was quite startled out of her senses. "Ai-yah!" she +ejaculated. The bystanders found it difficult to keep their countenance, +and, with one voice, they exploded into a boisterous fit of laughter. +Lady Feng as well could not help feeling amused, and smilingly she +upbraided her. "You stupid wench!" she said; "Have you by gorging lost +your eyesight that you recklessly smudge your mistress' face?" + +P'ing Erh hastily crossed over and wiped her face for her, and then went +in person to fetch some water. + +"O-mi-to-fu," ejaculated Yuean Yang, "this is a distinct retribution!" + +Dowager lady Chia, though seated on the other side, overheard their +shouts, and she consecutively made inquiries as to what they had seen to +tickled their fancy so. "Tell us," (she urged), "what it is so that we +too should have a laugh." + +"Our lady Secunda," Yuean Yang and the other maids forthwith laughingly +cried, "came to steal our crabs and eat them, and P'ing Erh got angry +and daubed her mistress' face all over with yellow meat. So our mistress +and that slave-girl are now having a scuffle over it." + +This report filled dowager lady Chia, Madame Wang and the other inmates +with them with much merriment. "Do have pity on her," dowager lady Chia +laughed, "and let her have some of those small legs and entrails to eat, +and have done!" + +Yuan Yang and her companions assented, much amused. "Mistress Secunda," +they shouted in a loud tone of voice, "you're at liberty to eat this +whole tableful of legs!" + +But having washed her face clean, lady Feng approached old lady Chia and +the other guests and waited upon them for a time, while they partook of +refreshments. + +Tai-yue did not, with her weak physique, venture to overload her stomach, +so partaking of a little meat from the claws, she left the table. +Presently, however, dowager lady Chia too abandoned all idea of having +anything more to eat. The company therefore quitted the banquet; and, +when they had rinsed their hands, some admired the flowers, some played +with the water, others looked at the fish. + +After a short stroll, Madame Wang turned round and remarked to old lady +Chia: "There's plenty of wind here. Besides, you've just had crabs; so +it would be prudent for you, venerable senior, to return home and rest. +And if you feel in the humour, we can come again for a turn to-morrow." + +"Quite true!" acquiesced dowager lady Chia, in reply to this suggestion. +"I was afraid that if I left, now that you're all in exuberant spirits, +I mightn't again be spoiling your fun, (so I didn't budge). But as the +idea originates from yourselves do go as you please, (while I retire). +But," she said to Hsiang-yuen, "don't allow your cousin Secundus, Pao-yue, +and your cousin Lin to have too much to eat." Then when Hsiang-yuen had +signified her obedience, "You two girls," continuing, she recommended +Hsiang-yuen and Pao-ch'ai, "must not also have more than is good for you. +Those things are, it's true, luscious, but they're not very wholesome; +and if you eat immoderately of them, why, you'll get stomachaches." + +Both girls promised with alacrity to be careful; and, having escorted +her beyond the confines of the garden, they retraced their steps and +ordered the servants to clear the remnants of the banquet and to lay out +a new supply of refreshments. + +"There's no use of any regular spread out!" Pao-yue interposed. "When you +are about to write verses, that big round table can be put in the centre +and the wines and eatables laid on it. Neither will there be any need to +ceremoniously have any fixed seats. Let those who may want anything to +eat, go up to it and take what they like; and if we seat ourselves, +scattered all over the place, won't it be far more convenient for us?" + +"Your idea is excellent!" Pao-ch'ai answered. + +"This is all very well," Hsiang-yuen observed, "but there are others to +be studied besides ourselves!" + +Issuing consequently further directions for another table to be laid, +and picking out some hot crabs, she asked Hsi Jen, Tzu Chuean, Ssu Ch'i, +Shih Shu, Ju Hua, Ying Erh, Ts'ui Mo and the other girls to sit together +and form a party. Then having a couple of flowered rugs spread under the +olea trees on the hills, she bade the matrons on duty, the waiting-maids +and other servants to likewise make themselves comfortable and to eat +and drink at their pleasure until they were wanted, when they could come +and answer the calls. + +Hsiang-yuen next fetched the themes for the verses and pinned them with a +needle on the wall. "They're full of originality," one and all exclaimed +after perusal, "we fear we couldn't write anything on them." + +Hsiang-yuen then went onto explain to them the reasons that had prompted +her not to determine upon any particular rhymes. + +"Yes, quite right!" put in Pao-yue. "I myself don't fancy hard and fast +rhymes!" + +But Lin Tai-yue, being unable to stand much wine and to take any crabs, +told, on her own account, a servant to fetch an embroidered cushion; +and, seating herself in such a way as to lean against the railing, she +took up a fishing-rod and began to fish. Pao-ch'ai played for a time +with a twig of olea she held in her hand, then resting on the +window-sill, she plucked the petals, and threw them into the water, +attracting the fish, which went by, to rise to the surface and nibble at +them. Hsiang-yuen, after a few moments of abstraction, urged Hsi Jen and +the other girls to help themselves to anything they wanted, and beckoned +to the servants, seated at the foot of the hill, to eat to their heart's +content. Tan Ch'un, in company with Li Wan and Hsi Ch'un, stood +meanwhile under the shade of the weeping willows, and looked at the +widgeons and egrets. Ying Ch'un, on the other hand, was all alone under +the shade of some trees, threading double jasmine flowers, with a needle +specially adapted for the purpose. Pao-yue too watched Tai-yue fishing for +a while. At one time he leant next to Pao-ch'ai and cracked a few jokes +with her. And at another, he drank, when he noticed Hsi Jen feasting on +crabs with her companions, a few mouthfuls of wine to keep her company. +At this, Hsi Jen cleaned the meat out of a shell, and gave it to him to +eat. + +Tai-yue then put down the fishing-rod, and, approaching the seats, she +laid hold of a small black tankard, ornamented with silver plum flowers, +and selected a tiny cup, made of transparent stone, red like a begonia, +and in the shape of a banana leaf. A servant-girl observed her +movements, and, concluding that she felt inclined to have a drink, she +drew near with hurried step to pour some wine for her. + +"You girls had better go on eating," Tai-yue remonstrated, "and let me +help myself; there'll be some fun in it then!" + +So speaking, she filled for herself a cup half full; but discovering +that it was yellow wine, "I've eaten only a little bit of crab," she +said, "and yet I feel my mouth slightly sore; so what would do for me +now is a mouthful of very hot distilled spirit." + +Pao-yue hastened to take up her remark. "There's some distilled spirit," +he chimed in. "Take some of that wine," he there and then shouted out to +a servant, "scented with acacia flowers, and warm a tankard of it." + +When however it was brought Tai-yue simply took a sip and put it down +again. + +Pao-ch'ai too then came forward, and picked up a double cup; but, after +drinking a mouthful of it, she lay it aside, and, moistening her pen, +she walked up to the wall, and marked off the first theme: "longing for +chrysanthemums," below which she appended a character "Heng." + +"My dear cousin," promptly remarked Pao-yue. "I've already got four lines +of the second theme so let me write on it!" + +"I managed, after ever so much difficulty, to put a stanza together," +Pao-ch'ai smiled, "and are you now in such a hurry to deprive me of it?" + +Without so much as a word, Tai-yue took a pen and put a distinctive sign +opposite the eighth, consisting of: "ask the chrysanthemums;" and, +singling out, in quick succession, the eleventh: "dream of +chrysanthemums," as well, she too affixed for herself the word "Hsiao" +below. But Pao-yue likewise got a pen, and marked his choice, the twelfth +on the list: "seek for chrysanthemums," by the side of which he wrote +the character "Chiang." + +T'an Ch'un thereupon rose to her feet. "If there's no one to write on +'Pinning the chrysanthemums'" she observed, while scrutinising the +themes, "do let me have it! It has just been ruled," she continued, +pointing at Pao-yue with a significant smile, "that it is on no account +permissible to introduce any expressions, bearing reference to the inner +chambers, so you'd better be on your guard!" + +But as she spoke, she perceived Hsiang-yuen come forward, and jointly +mark the fourth and fifth, that is: "facing the chrysanthemums," and +"putting chrysanthemums in vases," to which she, like the others, +appended a word, Hsiang." + +"You too should get a style or other!" T'an Ch'un suggested. + +"In our home," smiled Hsiang-yuen, "there exist, it is true, at present +several halls and structures, but as I don't live in either, there'll be +no fun in it were I to borrow the name of any one of them!" + +"Our venerable senior just said," Pao-ch'ai observed laughingly, "that +there was also in your home a water-pavilion called 'leaning on russet +clouds hall,' and is it likely that it wasn't yours? But albeit it +doesn't exist now-a-days, you were anyhow its mistress of old." + +"She's right!" one and all exclaimed. + +Pao-yue therefore allowed Hsiang-yuen no time to make a move, but +forthwith rubbed off the character "Hsiang," for her and substituted +that of "Hsia" (russet). + +A short time only elapsed before the compositions on the twelve themes +had all been completed. After they had each copied out their respective +verses, they handed them to Ying Ch'un, who took a separate sheet of +snow-white fancy paper, and transcribed them together, affixing +distinctly under each stanza the style of the composer. Li Wan and her +assistants then began to read, starting from the first on the list, the +verses which follow: + +"Longing for chrysanthemums," by the "Princess of Heng Wu." + + With anguish sore I face the western breeze, and wrapt in grief, I + pine for you! + What time the smart weed russet turns, and the reeds white, my heart + is rent in two. + When in autumn the hedges thin, and gardens waste, all trace of you is + gone. + When the moon waxeth cold, and the dew pure, my dreams then know + something of you. + With constant yearnings my heart follows you as far as wild geese + homeward fly. + Lonesome I sit and lend an ear, till a late hour to the sound of the + block! + For you, ye yellow flowers, I've grown haggard and worn, but who doth + pity me, + And breathe one word of cheer that in the ninth moon I will soon meet + you again? + +"Search for chrysanthemums," by the "Gentleman of I Hung:" + + When I have naught to do, I'll seize the first fine day to try and + stroll about. + Neither wine-cups nor cups of medicine will then deter me from my + wish. + Who plants the flowers in all those spots, facing the dew and under + the moon's rays? + Outside the rails they grow and by the hedge; but in autumn where do + they go? + With sandals waxed I come from distant shores; my feelings all + exuberant; + But as on this cold day I can't exhaust my song, my spirits get + depressed. + The yellow flowers, if they but knew how comfort to a poet to afford, + Would not let me this early morn trudge out in vain with my cash-laden + staff. + +"Planting chrysanthemums," by the Gentleman of "I Hung:" + + When autumn breaks, I take my hoe, and moving them myself out of the + park, + I plant them everywhere near the hedges and in the foreground of the + halls. + Last night, when least expected, they got a good shower, which made + them all revive. + This morn my spirits still rise high, as the buds burst in bloom + bedecked with frost. + Now that it's cool, a thousand stanzas on the autumn scenery I sing. + In ecstasies from drink, I toast their blossom in a cup of cold, and + fragrant wine. + With spring water. I sprinkle them, cover the roots with mould and + well tend them, + So that they may, like the path near the well, be free of every grain + of dirt. + +"Facing the chrysanthemums," by the "Old friend of the Hall reclining on +the russet clouds." + + From other gardens I transplant them, and I treasure them like gold. + One cluster bears light-coloured bloom; another bears dark shades. + I sit with head uncovered by the sparse-leaved artemesia hedge, + And in their pure and cool fragrance, clasping my knees, I hum my + lays. + In the whole world, methinks, none see the light as peerless as these + flowers. + From all I see you have no other friend more intimate than me. + Such autumn splendour, I must not misuse, as steadily it fleets. + My gaze I fix on you as I am fain each moment to enjoy! + +"Putting chrysanthemums in vases," by the "Old Friend of the hall +reclining on the russet clouds." + + The lute I thrum, and quaff my wine, joyful at heart that ye are meet + to be my mates. + The various tables, on which ye are laid, adorn with beauteous grace + this quiet nook. + The fragrant dew, next to the spot I sit, is far apart from that by + the three paths. + I fling my book aside and turn my gaze upon a twig full of your autumn + (bloom). + What time the frost is pure, a new dream steals o'er me, as by the + paper screen I rest. + When cold holdeth the park, and the sun's rays do slant, I long and + yearn for you, old friends. + I too differ from others in this world, for my own tastes resemble + those of yours. + The vernal winds do not hinder the peach tree and the pear from + bursting forth in bloom. + +"Singing chrysanthemums," by the "Hsiao Hsiang consort." + + Eating the bread of idleness, the frenzy of poetry creeps over me both + night and day. + Round past the hedge I wend, and, leaning on the rock, I intone verses + gently to myself. + From the point of my pencil emanate lines of recondite grace, so near + the frost I write. + Some scent I hold by the side of my mouth, and, turning to the moon, I + sing my sentiments. + With self-pitying lines pages I fill, so as utterance to give to all + my cares and woes. + From these few scanty words, who could fathom the secrets of my heart + about the autumntide? + Beginning from the time when T'ao, the magistrate, did criticise the + beauty of your bloom, + Yea, from that date remote up to this very day, your high renown has + ever been extolled. + +"Drawing chrysanthemums," by the "Princess of Heng Wu." + + Verses I've had enough, so with my pens I play; with no idea that I am + mad. + Do I make use of pigments red or green as to involve a task of + toilsome work? + To form clusters of leaves, I sprinkle simply here and there a + thousand specks of ink. + And when I've drawn the semblance of the flowers, some spots I make to + represent the frost. + The light and dark so life-like harmonise with the figure of those + there in the wind, + That when I've done tracing their autumn growth, a fragrant smell + issues under my wrist. + Do you not mark how they resemble those, by the east hedge, which you + leisurely pluck? + Upon the screens their image I affix to solace me for those of the + ninth moon. + +"Asking the chrysanthemums," by the "Hsiao Hsiang consort." + + Your heart, in autumn, I would like to read, but know it no one could! + While humming with my arms behind my back, on the east hedge I rap. + So peerless and unique are ye that who is meet with you to stay? + Why are you of all flowers the only ones to burst the last in bloom? + Why in such silence plunge the garden dew and the frost in the hall? + When wild geese homeward fly and crickets sicken, do you think of me? + Do not tell me that in the world none of you grow with power of + speech? + But if ye fathom what I say, why not converse with me a while? + +"Pinning the chrysanthemums in the hair," by the "Visitor under the +banana trees." + + I put some in a vase, and plant some by the hedge, so day by day I + have ample to do. + I pluck them, yet don't fancy they are meant for girls to pin before + the glass in their coiffure. + My mania for these flowers is just as keen as was that of the squire, + who once lived in Ch'ang An. + I rave as much for them as raved Mr. P'eng Tse, when he was under the + effects of wine. + Cold is the short hair on his temples and moistened with dew, which on + it dripped from the three paths. + His flaxen turban is suffused with the sweet fragrance of the autumn + frost in the ninth moon. + That strong weakness of mine to pin them in my hair is viewed with + sneers by my contemporaries. + They clap their hands, but they are free to laugh at me by the + roadside as much us e'er they list. + +"The shadow of the chrysanthemums," by the "Old Friend of the hall +reclining on the russet clouds." + + In layers upon layers their autumn splendour grows and e'er thick and + thicker. + I make off furtively, and stealthily transplant them from the three + crossways. + The distant lamp, inside the window-frame, depicts their shade both + far and near. + The hedge riddles the moon's rays, like unto a sieve, but the flowers + stop the holes. + As their reflection cold and fragrant tarries here, their soul must + too abide. + The dew-dry spot beneath the flowers is so like them that what is said + of dreams is trash. + Their precious shadows, full of subtle scent, are trodden down to + pieces here and there. + Could any one with eyes half closed from drinking, not mistake the + shadow for the flowers. + +"Dreaming of chrysanthemums," by the "Hsiao Hsiang consort." + + What vivid dreams arise as I dose by the hedge amidst those autumn + scenes! + Whether clouds bear me company or the moon be my mate, I can't + discern. + In fairyland I soar, not that I would become a butterfly like Chang. + So long I for my old friend T'ao, the magistrate, that I again seek + him. + In a sound sleep I fell; but so soon as the wild geese cried, they + broke my rest. + The chirp of the cicadas gave me such a start that I bear them a + grudge. + My secret wrongs to whom can I go and divulge, when I wake up from + sleep? + The faded flowers and the cold mist make my feelings of anguish know + no bounds. + +"Fading of the chrysanthemums," by the "Visitor under the banana trees." + + The dew congeals; the frost waxes in weight; and gradually dwindles + their bloom. + After the feast, with the flower show, follows the season of the + 'little snow.' + The stalks retain still some redundant smell, but the flowers' golden + tinge is faint. + The stems do not bear sign of even one whole leaf; their verdure is + all past. + Naught but the chirp of crickets strikes my ear, while the moon shines + on half my bed. + Near the cold clouds, distant a thousand li, a flock of wild geese + slowly fly. + When autumn breaks again next year, I feel certain that we will meet + once more. + We part, but only for a time, so don't let us indulge in anxious + thoughts. + +Each stanza they read they praised; and they heaped upon each other +incessant eulogiums. + +"Let me now criticise them; I'll do so with all fairness!" Li Wan +smiled. "As I glance over the page," she said, "I find that each of you +has some distinct admirable sentiments; but in order to be impartial in +my criticism to-day, I must concede the first place to: 'Singing the +chrysanthemums;' the second to: 'Asking the chrysanthemums;' and the +third to: 'Dreaming of chrysanthemums.' The original nature of the +themes makes the verses full of originality, and their conception still +more original. But we must allow to the 'Hsiao Hsiang consort' the +credit of being the best; next in order following: 'Pinning +chrysanthemums in the hair,' 'Facing the chrysanthemums,' 'Putting the +chrysanthemums, in vases,' 'Drawing the chrysanthemums,' and 'Longing +for chrysanthemums,' as second best." + +This decision filled Pao-yue with intense gratification. Clapping his +hands, "Quite right! it's most just," he shouted. + +"My verses are worth nothing!" Tai-yue remarked. "Their fault, after all, +is that they are a little too minutely subtile." + +"They are subtile but good," Li Wan rejoined; "for there's no +artificialness or stiffness about them." + +"According to my views," Tai-yue observed, "the best line is: + + "'When cold holdeth the park and the sun's rays do slant, I long and + yearn for you, old friends.' + +"The metonomy: + + "'I fling my book aside and turn my gaze upon a twig of autumn.' + +is already admirable! She has dealt so exhaustively with 'putting +chrysanthemums in a vase' that she has left nothing unsaid that could be +said, and has had in consequence to turn her thought back and consider +the time anterior to their being plucked and placed in vases. Her +sentiments are profound!" + +"What you say is certainly so," explained Li Wan smiling; "but that line +of yours: + + "'Some scent I hold by the side of my mouth,....' + +"beats that." + +"After all," said T'an Ch'un, "we must admit that there's depth of +thought in those of the 'Princess of Heng Wu' with: + + "'...in autumn all trace of you is gone;' + +"and + + "'...my dreams then know something of you!' + +"They really make the meaning implied by the words 'long for' stand out +clearly." + +"Those passages of yours: + + "'Cold is the short hair on his temples and moistened....' + +"and + + "'His flaxen turban is suffused with the sweet fragrance....;'" + +laughingly observed Puo-ch'ai, "likewise bring out the idea of 'pinning +the chrysanthemums in the hair' so thoroughly that one couldn't get a +loop hole for fault-finding." + +Hsiang-yuen then smiled. + + "'...who is meet with you to stay'" + +she said, "and + + "'...burst the last in bloom.' + +"are questions so straight to the point set to the chrysanthemums, that +they are quite at a loss what answer to give." + +"Were what you say: + + "'I sit with head uncovered....' + +"and + + "'...clasping my knees, I hum my lays....' + +"as if you couldn't, in fact, tear yourself away for even a moment from +them," Li Wan laughed, "to come to the knowledge of the chrysanthemums, +why, they would certainly be sick and tired of you." + +This joke made every one laugh. + +"I'm last again!" smiled Pao-yue. "Is it likely that: + + "'Who plants the flowers?.... + ...in autumn where do they go? + With sandals waxed I come from distant shores;.... + ...and as on this cold day I can't exhaust my song;....' + +"do not all forsooth amount to searching for chrysanthemums? And that + + "'Last night they got a shower.... + And this morn ... bedecked with frost,' + +"don't both bear on planting them? But unfortunately they can't come up +to these lines: + + "'Some scent I hold by the side of my mouth and turning to the moon I + sing my sentiments.' + 'In their pure and cool fragrance, clasping my knees I hum my lays.' + '...short hair on his temples....' + 'His flaxen turban.... + ...golden tinge is faint. + ...verdure is all past. + ...in autumn ... all trace of you is gone. + ...my dreams then know something of you.' + +"But to-morrow," he proceeded, "if I have got nothing to do, I'll write +twelve stanzas my self." + +"Yours are also good," Li Wan pursued, "the only thing is that they +aren't as full of original conception as those other lines, that's all." + +But after a few further criticisms, they asked for some more warm crabs; +and, helping themselves, as soon as they were brought, from the large +circular table, they regaled themselves for a time. + +"With the crabs to-day in one's hand and the olea before one's eyes, one +cannot help inditing verses," Pao-yue smiled. "I've already thought of a +few; but will any of you again have the pluck to devise any?" + +With this challenge, he there and then hastily washed his hands and +picking up a pen he wrote out what, his companions found on perusal, to +run in this strain: + + When in my hands I clasp a crab what most enchants my heart is the + cassia's cool shade. + While I pour vinegar and ground ginger, I feel from joy as if I would + go mad. + With so much gluttony the prince's grandson eats his crabs that he + should have some wine. + The side-walking young gentleman has no intestines in his frame at + all. + I lose sight in my greediness that in my stomach cold accumulates. + To my fingers a strong smell doth adhere and though I wash them yet + the smell clings fast. + The main secret of this is that men in this world make much of food. + The P'o Spirit has laughed at them that all their lives they only seek + to eat. + +"I could readily compose a hundred stanzas with such verses in no time," +Tai-yue observed with a sarcastic smile. + +"Your mental energies are now long ago exhausted," Pao-yue rejoined +laughingly, "and instead of confessing your inability to devise any, you +still go on heaping invective upon people!" + +Tai-yue, upon catching this insinuation, made no reply of any kind; but +slightly raising her head she hummed something to herself for a while, +and then taking up a pen she completed a whole stanza with a few dashes. + +The company then read her lines. They consisted of-- + + E'en after death, their armour and their lengthy spears are never cast + away. + So nice they look, piled in the plate, that first to taste them I'd + fain be. + In every pair of legs they have, the crabs are full of tender + jade-like meat. + Each piece of ruddy fat, which in their shell bumps up, emits a + fragrant smell. + Besides much meat, they have a greater relish for me still, eight feet + as well. + Who bids me drink a thousand cups of wine in order to enhance my joy? + What time I can behold their luscious food, with the fine season doth + accord + When cassias wave with fragrance pure, and the chrysanthemums are + decked with frost. + +Pao-yue had just finished conning it over and was beginning to sing its +praise, when Tai-yue, with one snatch, tore it to pieces and bade a +servant go and burn it. + +"As my compositions can't come up to yours," she then observed, "I'll +burn it. Yours is capital, much better than the lines you wrote a little +time back on the chrysanthemums, so keep it for the benefit of others." + +"I've likewise succeeded, after much effort, in putting together a +stanza," Pao-ch'ai laughingly remarked. "It cannot, of course, be worth +much, but I'll put it down for fun's sake." + +As she spoke, she too wrote down her lines. When they came to look at +them, they read-- + + On this bright beauteous day, I bask in the dryandra shade, with a cup + in my hand. + When I was at Ch'ang An, with drivelling mouth, I longed for the ninth + day of the ninth moon. + The road stretches before their very eyes, but they can't tell between + straight and transverse. + Under their shells in spring and autumn only reigns a vacuum, yellow + and black. + +At this point, they felt unable to refrain from shouting: "Excellent!" +"She abuses in fine style!" Pao-yue shouted. "But my lines should also be +committed to the flames." + +The company thereupon scanned the remainder of the stanza, which was +couched in this wise: + + When all the stock of wine is gone, chrysanthemums then use to scour + away the smell. + So as to counteract their properties of gath'ring cold, fresh ginger + you should take. + Alas! now that they have been dropped into the boiling pot, what good + do they derive? + About the moonlit river banks there but remains the fragrant aroma of + corn. + +At the close of their perusal, they with one voice, explained that this +was a first-rate song on crab-eating; that minor themes of this kind +should really conceal lofty thoughts, before they could be held to be of +any great merit, and that the only thing was that it chaffed people +rather too virulently. + +But while they were engaged in conversation, P'ing Erh was again seen +coming into the garden. What she wanted is not, however, yet known; so, +reader, peruse the details given in the subsequent chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + The tongue of the village old dame finds as free vent as a river that + has broken its banks. + The affectionate cousin makes up his mind to sift to the very bottom + the story told by old goody Liu. + + +Upon seeing, the story explains, P'ing Erh arrive, they unanimously +inquired, "What is your mistress up to? How is it she hasn't come?" + +"How ever could she spare the time to get as far as here?" P'ing Erh +smiled and replied. "But, she said, she hasn't anything good to eat, so +she bade me, as she couldn't possibly run over, come and find out +whether there be any more crabs or not; (if there be), she enjoined me +to ask for a few to take to her to eat at home." + +"There are plenty!" Hsiang-yuen rejoined; and directing, with alacrity, a +servant to fetch a present box, she put in it ten of the largest crabs. + +"I'll take a few more of the female ones," P'ing Erh remarked. + +One and all then laid hands upon P'ing Erh and tried to drag her into a +seat, but P'ing Erh would not accede to their importunities. + +"I insist upon your sitting down," Li Wan laughingly exclaimed, and as +she kept pulling her about, and forcing her to sit next to her, she +filled a cup of wine and put it to her lips. P'ing Erh hastily swallowed +a sip and endeavoured immediately to beat a retreat. + +"I won't let you go," shouted Li Wan. "It's so evident that you're only +got that woman Feng in your thoughts as you don't listen to any of my +words!" + +Saying this, she went on to bid the nurses go ahead, and take the box +over. "Tell her," she added, "that I've kept P'ing Erh here." + +A matron presently returned with a box. "Lady Secunda," she reported, +"says that you, lady Chu, and our young mistresses must not make fun of +her for having asked for something to eat; and that in this box you'll +find cakes made of water-lily powder, and rolls prepared with chicken +fat, which your maternal aunt, on the other side, just sent for your +ladyship and for you, young ladies, to taste. That she bids you," (the +matron) continued, turning towards P'ing Erh, "come over on duty, but +your mind is so set upon pleasure that you loiter behind and don't go +back. She advises you, however, not to have too many cups of wine." + +"Were I even to have too much," P'ing Erh smiled, "what could she do to +me?" + +Uttering these words, she went on with her drink; after which she +partook of some more crab. + +"What a pity it is," interposed Li Wan, caressing her, "that a girl with +such good looks as you should have so ordinary a fortune as to simply +fall into that room as a menial! But wouldn't any one, who is not +acquainted with actual facts, take you for a lady and a mistress?" + +While she went on eating and drinking with Pao-ch'ai, Hsiang-yuen and the +other girls, P'ing Erh turned her head round. "Don't rub me like that!" +she laughed, "It makes me feel quite ticklish." + +"Ai-yo!" shouted Li Wan. "What's this hard thing?" + +"It's a key," P'ing Erh answered. + +"What fine things have you got that the fear lest people should take it +away, prompts you to carry this about you? I keep on, just for a laugh, +telling people the whole day long that when the bonze T'ang was fetching +the canons, a white horse came and carried him! That when Liu Chih-yuean +was attacking the empire, a melon-spirit appeared and brought him a coat +of mail, and that in the same way, where our vixen Feng is, there you +are to be found! You are your mistress' general key; and what do you +want this other key for?" + +"You've primed yourself with wine, my lady," P'ing Erh smiled, "and here +you once more chaff me and make a laughing-stock of me." + +"This is really quite true," Pao-ch'ai laughed. "Whenever we've got +nothing to do, and we talk matters over, (we're quite unanimous) that +not one in a hundred could be picked out to equal you girls in here. The +beauty is that each one of you possesses her own good qualities!" + +"In every thing, whether large or small, a heavenly principle rules +alike," Li Wan explained. "Were there, for instance, no Yuean Yang in our +venerable senior's apartments, how would it ever do? Commencing with +Madame Wang herself, who is it who could muster sufficient courage to +expostulate with the old lady? Yet she plainly has the pluck to put in +her remonstrances with her; and, as it happens, our worthy ancestor +lends a patient ear to only what she says and no one else. None of the +others can remember what our old senior has in the way of clothes and +head-ornaments, but she can remember everything; and, were she not there +to look after things, there is no knowing how many would not be swindled +away. That child besides is so straightforward at heart, that, despite +all this, she often puts in a good word for others, and doesn't rely +upon her influence to look down disdainfully upon any one!" + +"It was only yesterday," Hsi Ch'un observed with a smile, "that our dear +ancestor said that she was ever so much better than the whole lot of +us!" + +"She's certainly splendid!" P'ing Erh ventured. "How could we rise up to +her standard?" + +"Ts'ai Hsia," Pao-yue put in, "who is in mother's rooms, is a good sort +of girl!" + +"Of course she is!" T'an Ch'un assented. "But she's good enough as far +as external appearances go, but inwardly she's a sly one! Madame Wang is +just like a joss; she does not give her mind to any sort of business; +but this girl is up to everything; and it is she who in all manner of +things reminds her mistress what there is to be done. She even knows +everything, whether large or small, connected with Mr. Chia Cheng's +staying at home or going out of doors; and when at any time Madame Wang +forgets, she, from behind the scenes, prompts her how to act." + +"Well, never mind about her!" Li Wan suggested. "But were," she pursued, +pointing at Pao-yue, "no Hsi Jen in this young gentleman's quarters, just +you imagine what a pitch things would reach! That vixen Feng may truly +resemble the prince Pa of the Ch'u kingdom; and she may have two arms +strong enough to raise a tripod weighing a thousand catties, but had she +not this maid (P'ing Erh), would she be able to accomplish everything so +thoroughly?" + +"In days gone by," P'ing Erh interposed, "four servant-girls came along +with her, but what with those who've died and those who've gone, only I +remain like a solitary spirit." + +"You're, after all, the fortunate one!" Li Wan retorted, "but our hussey +Feng too is lucky in having you! Had I not also once, just remember, two +girls, when your senior master Chu was alive? Am I not, you've seen for +yourselves, a person to bear with people? But in such a surly frame of +mind did I find them both day after day that, as soon as your senior +master departed this life, I availed myself of their youth (to give them +in marriage) and to pack both of them out of my place. But had either of +them been good for anything and worthy to be kept, I would, in fact, +have now had some one to give me a helping hand!" + +As she spoke, the very balls of her eyes suddenly became quite red. + +"Why need you again distress your mind?" they with one voice, exclaimed. +"Isn't it better that we should break up?" + +While conversing, they rinsed their hands; and, when they had agreed to +go in a company to dowager lady Chia's and Madame Wang's and inquire +after their health, the matrons and servant-maids swept the pavilion and +collected and washed the cups and saucers. + +Hsi Jen proceeded on her way along with P'ing Erh. "Come into my room," +said Hsi Jen to P'ing Erh, "and sit down and have another cup of tea." + +"I won't have any tea just now," P'ing Erh answered. "I'll come some +other time." + +So saying, she was about to go off when Hsi Jen called out to her and +stopped her. + +"This month's allowances," she asked, "haven't yet been issued, not even +to our old mistress and Madame Wang; why is it?" + +Upon catching this inquiry, P'ing Erh hastily retraced her steps and +drew near Hsi Jen. After looking about to see that no one was in the +neighbourhood, she rejoined in a low tone of voice, "Drop these +questions at once! They're sure, anyhow, to be issued in a couple of +days." + +"Why is it," smiled Hsi Jen, "that this gives you such a start?" + +"This month's allowances," P'ing Erh explained to her in a whisper, +"have long ago been obtained in advance by our mistress Secunda and +given to people for their own purposes; and it's when the interest has +been brought from here and there that the various sums will be lumped +together and payment be effected. I confide this to you, but, mind, you +mustn't go and tell any other person about it." + +"Is it likely that she hasn't yet enough money for her own +requirements?" Hsi Jen smiled. "Or is it that she's still not satisfied? +And what's the use of her still going on bothering herself in this way?" + +"Isn't it so!" laughed P'ing Erh. "From just handling the funds for this +particular item, she has, during these few years, so manipulated them as +to turn up several hundreds of taels profit out of them. Nor does she +spend that monthly allowance of hers for public expenses. But the moment +she accumulates anything like eight or ten taels odd, she gives them out +too. Thus the interest on her own money alone comes up to nearly a +thousand taels a year." + +"You and your mistress take our money," Hsi Jen observed laughingly, +"and get interest on it; fooling us as if we were no better than +idiots." + +"Here you are again with your uncharitable words!" P'ing Erh +remonstrated. "Can it be that you haven't yet enough to meet your own +expenses with?" + +"I am, it's true, not short of money," Hsi Jen replied, "as I have +nowhere to go and spend it; but the thing is that I'm making provision +for that fellow of ours, (Pao-yue)." + +"If you ever find yourself in any great straits and need money," P'ing +Erh resumed, "you're at liberty to take first those few taels I've got +over there to suit your own convenience with, and by and bye I can +reduce them from what is due to you and we'll be square." + +"I'm not in need of any just now," retorted Hsi Jen. "But should I not +have enough, when I want some, I'll send some one to fetch them, and +finish." + +P'ing Erh promised that she would let her have the money at any time she +sent for it, and, and taking the shortest cut, she issued out of the +garden gate. Here she encountered a servant despatched from the other +side by lady Feng. She came in search of P'ing Erh. "Our lady," she +said, "has something for you to do, and is waiting for you." + +"What's up that it's so pressing?" P'ing Erh inquired. "Our senior +mistress detained me by force to have a chat, so I couldn't manage to +get away. But here she time after time sends people after me in this +manner!" + +"Whether you go or not is your own look out," the maid replied. "It +isn't worth your while getting angry with me! If you dare, go and tell +these things to our mistress!" + +P'ing Erh spat at her contemptuously, and rushed back in anxious haste. +She discovered, however, that lady Feng was not at home. But +unexpectedly she perceived that the old goody Liu, who had paid them a +visit on a previous occasion for the purpose of obtaining pecuniary +assistance, had come again with Pan Erh, and was seated in the opposite +room, along with Chang Ts'ai's wife and Chou Jui's wife, who kept her +company. But two or three servant-maids were inside as well emptying on +the floor bags containing dates, squash and various wild greens. + +As soon as they saw her appear in the room, they promptly stood up in a +body. Old goody Liu had, on her last visit, learnt what P'ing Erh's +status in the establishment was, so vehemently jumping down, she +enquired, "Miss, how do you do? All at home," she pursued, "send you +their compliments. I meant to have come earlier and paid my respects to +my lady and to look you up, miss; but we've been very busy on the farm. +We managed this year to reap, after great labour, a few more piculs of +grain than usual. But melons, fruits and vegetables have also been +plentiful. These things, you see here, are what we picked during the +first crop; and as we didn't presume to sell them, we kept the best to +present to our lady and the young ladies to taste. The young ladies +must, of course, be surfeited with all the delicacies and fine things +they daily get, but by having some of our wild greens to eat, they will +show some regard for our poor attention." + +"Many thanks for all the trouble you have taken!" Ping Erh eagerly +rejoined. Then pressing her to resume her place, she sat down herself; +and, urging Mrs. Chang and Mrs. Chou to take their seats, she bade a +young waiting-maid go and serve the tea. + +"There's a joyous air about your face to-day, Miss, and your eye-balls +are all red," the wife of Chou Jui and the wife of Chang Ts'ai thereupon +smilingly ventured. + +"Naturally!" P'ing Erh laughed. "I generally don't take any wine, but +our senior mistress, and our young ladies caught hold of me and insisted +upon pouring it down my throat. I had no alternative therefore but to +swallow two cups full; so my face at once flushed crimson." + +"I have a longing for wine," Chang Ts'ai's wife smiled; "but there's no +one to offer me any. But when any one by and by invites you, Miss, do +take me along with you!" + +At these words, one and all burst out laughing. + +"Early this morning," Chou Jui's wife interposed, "I caught a glimpse of +those crabs. Only two or three of them would weigh a catty; so in those +two or three huge hampers, there must have been, I presume, seventy to +eighty catties!" + +"If some were intended for those above as well as for those below;" Chou +Jui's wife added, "they couldn't, nevertheless, I fear, have been +enough." + +"How could every one have had any?" P'ing Erh observed. "Those simply +with any name may have tasted a couple of them; but, as for the rest, +some may have touched them with the tips of their hands, but many may +even not have done as much." + +"Crabs of this kind!" put in old goody Liu, "cost this year five +candareens a catty; ten catties for five mace; five times five make two +taels five, and three times five make fifteen; and adding what was +wanted for wines and eatables, the total must have come to something +over twenty taels. O-mi-to-fu! why, this heap of money is ample for us +country-people to live on through a whole year!" + +"I expect you have seen our lady?" P'ing Erh then asked. + +"Yes, I have seen her," assented old goody Liu. "She bade us wait." As +she spoke, she again looked out of the window to see what the time of +the day could be. "It's getting quite late," she afterwards proceeded. +"We must be going, or else we mayn't be in time to get out of the city +gates; and then we'll be in a nice fix." + +"Quite right," Chou Jui's wife observed. "I'll go and see what she's up +to for you." + +With these words, she straightway left the room. After a long absence, +she returned. "Good fortune has, indeed, descended upon you, old dame!" +she smiled. "Why, you've won the consideration of those two ladies!" + +"What about it?" laughingly inquired P'ing Erh and the others. + +"Lady Secunda," Chou Jui's wife explained with a smile, "was with our +venerable lady, so I gently whispered to her: 'old goody Liu wishes to +go home; it's getting late and she fears she mightn't be in time to go +out of the gates!' 'It's such a long way off!' Our lady Secunda +rejoined, 'and she had all the trouble and fatigue of carrying that load +of things; so if it's too late, why, let her spend the night here and +start on the morrow!' Now isn't this having enlisted our mistress' +sympathies? But not to speak of this! Our old lady also happened to +overhear what we said, and she inquired: 'who is old goody Liu?' Our +lady Secunda forthwith told her all. 'I was just longing,' her venerable +ladyship pursued, 'for some one well up in years to have a chat with; +ask her in, and let me see her!' So isn't this coming in for +consideration, when least unexpected?" + +So speaking, she went on to urge old goody Liu to get down and betake +herself to the front. + +"With a figure like this of mine," old goody Liu demurred, "how could I +very well appear before her? My dear sister-in-law, do tell her that +I've gone!" + +"Get on! Be quick!" P'ing Erh speedily cried. "What does it matter? Our +old lady has the highest regard for old people and the greatest pity for +the needy! She's not one you could compare with those haughty and +overbearing people! But I fancy you're a little too timid, so I'll +accompany you as far as there, along with Mrs. Chou." + +While tendering her services, she and Chou Jui's wife led off old goody +Liu and crossed over to dowager lady Chia's apartments on this side of +the mansion. The boy-servants on duty at the second gate stood up when +they saw P'ing Erh approach. But two of them also ran up to her, and, +keeping close to her heels: "Miss!" they shouted out. "Miss!" + +"What have you again got to say?" P'ing Erh asked. + +"It's pretty late just now," one of the boys smilingly remarked; "and +mother is ill and wants me to go and call the doctor, so I would, dear +Miss, like to have half a day's leave; may I?" + +"Your doings are really fine!" P'ing Erh exclaimed. "You've agreed among +yourselves that each day one of you should apply for furlough; but +instead of speaking to your lady, you come and bother me! The other day +that Chu Erh went, Mr. Secundus happened not to want him, so I assented, +though I also added that I was doing it as a favour; but here you too +come to-day!" + +"It's quite true that his mother is sick," Chou Jui's wife interceded; +"so, Miss, do say yes to him also, and let him go!" + +"Be back as soon as it dawns to-morrow!" P'ing Erh enjoined. "Wait, I've +got something for you to do, for you'll again sleep away, and only turn +up after the sun has blazed away on your buttocks. As you go now, give a +message to Wang Erh! Tell him that our lady bade you warn him that if he +does not hand over the balance of the interest due by to-morrow, she +won't have anything to do with him. So he'd better let her have it to +meet her requirements and finish." + +The servant-lad felt in high glee and exuberant spirits. Expressing his +obedience, he walked off. + +P'ing Erh and her companions repaired then to old lady Chia's +apartments. Here the various young ladies from the Garden of Broad Vista +were at the time assembled paying their respects to their grandmother. +As soon as old goody Liu put her foot inside, she saw the room thronged +with girls (as seductive) as twigs of flowers waving to and fro, and so +richly dressed, as to look enveloped in pearls, and encircled with +king-fisher ornaments. But she could not make out who they all were. Her +gaze was, however, attracted by an old dame, reclining alone on a divan. +Behind her sat a girl, a regular beauty, clothed in gauze, engaged in +patting her legs. Lady Feng was on her feet in the act of cracking some +joke. + +Old goody Liu readily concluded that it must be dowager lady Chia, so +promptly pressing forward, she put on a forced smile and made several +curtseys. "My obeisance to you, star of longevity!" she said. + +Old lady Chia hastened, on her part, to bow and to inquire after her +health. Then she asked Chou Jui's wife to bring a chair over for her to +take a seat. But Pan Erh was still so very shy that he did not know how +to make his obeisance. + +"Venerable relative," dowager lady Chia asked, "how old are you this +year?" + +Old goody Liu immediately rose to her feet. "I'm seventy-five this +year," she rejoined. + +"So old and yet so hardy!" Old lady Chia remarked, addressing herself to +the party. "Why she's older than myself by several years! When I reach +that age, I wonder whether I shall be able to move!" + +"We people have," old goody Liu smilingly resumed, "to put up, from the +moment we come into the world, with ever so many hardships; while your +venerable ladyship enjoys, from your birth, every kind of blessing! Were +we also like this, there'd be no one to carry on that farming work." + +"Are your eyes and teeth still good?" Dowager lady Chia went on to +inquire. + +"They're both still all right," old goody Liu replied. "The left molars, +however, have got rather shaky this year." + +"As for me, I'm quite an old fossil," dowager lady Chia observed. "I'm +no good whatever. My eyesight is dim; my ears are deaf, my memory is +gone. I can't even recollect any of you, old family connections. When +therefore any of our relations come on a visit, I don't see them for +fear lest I should be ridiculed. All I can manage to eat are a few +mouthfuls of anything tender enough for my teeth; and I can just dose a +bit or, when I feel in low spirits, I distract myself a little with +these grandsons and grand-daughters of mine; that's all I'm good for." + +"This is indeed your venerable ladyship's good fortune!" old goody Liu +smiled. "We couldn't enjoy anything of the kind, much though we may long +for it." + +"What good fortune!" dowager lady Chia exclaimed. "I'm a useless old +thing, no more." + +This remark made every one explode into laughter. + +Dowager lady Chia also laughed. "I heard our lady Feng say a little +while back," she added, "that you had brought a lot of squash and +vegetables, and I told her to put them by at once. I had just been +craving to have newly-grown melons and vegetables; but those one buys +outside are not as luscious as those produced in your farms." + +"This is the rustic notion," old goody Liu laughed, "to entirely subsist +on fresh things! Yet, we long to have fish and meat for our fare, but we +can't afford it." + +"I've found a relative in you to-day," dowager lady Chia said, "so you +shouldn't go empty-handed! If you don't despise this place as too mean, +do stay a day or two before you start! We've also got a garden here; and +this garden produces fruits too; you can taste some of them to-morrow +and take a few along with you home, in order to make it look like a +visit to relatives." + +When lady Feng saw how delighted old lady Chia was with the prospects of +the old dame's stay, she too lost no time in doing all she could to +induce her to remain. "Our place here," she urged, "isn't, it's true, as +spacious as your threshing-floor; but as we've got two vacant rooms, +you'd better put up in them for a couple of days, and choose some of +your village news and old stories and recount them to our worthy +senior." + +"Now you, vixen Feng," smiled dowager lady Chia, "don't raise a laugh at +her expense! She's only a country woman; and will an old dame like her +stand any chaff from you?" + +While remonstrating with her, she bade a servant go, before attending to +anything else, and pluck a few fruits. These she handed to Pan Erh to +eat. But Pan Erh did not venture to touch them, conscious as he was of +the presence of such a number of bystanders. So old lady Chia gave +orders that a few cash should be given him, and then directed the pages +to take him outside to play. + +After sipping a cup of tea, old goody Liu began to relate, for the +benefit of dowager lady Chia, a few of the occurrences she had seen or +heard of in the country. These had the effect of putting old lady Chia +in a more exuberant frame of mind. But in the midst of her narration, a +servant, at lady Feng's instance, asked goody Liu to go and have her +evening meal. Dowager lady Chia then picked out, as well, several kinds +of eatables from her own repast, and charged some one to take them to +goody Liu to feast on. + +But the consciousness that the old dame had taken her senior's fancy +induced lady Feng to send her back again as soon as she had taken some +refreshments. On her arrival, Yuean Yang hastily deputed a matron to take +goody Liu to have a bath. She herself then went and selected two pieces +of ordinary clothes, and these she entrusted to a servant to hand to the +old dame to change. Goody Liu had hitherto not set eyes upon any such +grand things, so with eagerness she effected the necessary alterations +in her costume. This over, she made her appearance outside, and, sitting +in front of the divan occupied by dowager lady Chia, she went on to +narrate as many stories as she could recall to mind. Pao-yue and his +cousins too were, at the time, assembled in the room, and as they had +never before heard anything the like of what she said, they, of course, +thought her tales more full of zest than those related by itinerant +blind story-tellers. + +Old goody Liu was, albeit a rustic person, gifted by nature with a good +deal of discrimination. She was besides advanced in years; and had gone +through many experiences in her lifetime, so when she, in the first +place, saw how extremely delighted old lady Chia was with her, and, in +the second, how eager the whole crowd of young lads and lasses were to +listen to what fell from her mouth, she even invented, when she found +her own stock exhausted, a good many yarns to recount to them. + +"What with all the sowing we have to do in our fields and the vegetables +we have to plant," she consequently proceeded, "have we ever in our +village any leisure to sit with lazy hands from year to year and day to +day; no matter whether it's spring, summer, autumn or winter, whether it +blows or whether it rains? Yea, day after day all that we can do is to +turn the bare road into a kind of pavilion to rest and cool ourselves +on! But what strange things don't we see! Last winter, for instance, +snow fell for several consecutive days, and it piled up on the ground +three or four feet deep. One day, I got up early, but I hadn't as yet +gone out of the door of our house when I heard outside the noise of +firewood (being moved). I fancied that some one must have come to steal +it, so I crept up to a hole in the window; but, lo, I discovered that it +was no one from our own village." + +"It must have been," interposed dowager lady Chia, "some wayfarers, who +being smitten with the cold, took some of the firewood, they saw ready +at hand, to go and make a fire and warm themselves with! That's highly +probable!" + +"It was no wayfarers at all," old goody Liu retorted smiling, "and +that's what makes the story so strange. Who do you think it was, +venerable star of longevity? It was really a most handsome girl of +seventeen or eighteen, whose hair was combed as smooth as if oil had +been poured over it. She was dressed in a deep red jacket, a white silk +petticoat...." + +When she reached this part of her narrative, suddenly became audible the +voices of people bawling outside. "It's nothing much," they shouted, +"don't frighten our old mistress!" Dowager lady Chia and the other +inmates caught, however, their cries and hurriedly inquired what had +happened. A servant-maid explained in reply that a fire had broken out +in the stables in the southern court, but that there was no danger, as +the flames had been suppressed. + +Their old grandmother was a person with very little nerve. The moment, +therefore, the report fell on her car, she jumped up with all despatch, +and leaning on one of the family, she rushed on to the verandah to +ascertain the state of things. At the sight of the still brilliant +light, shed by the flames, on the south east part of the compound, old +lady Chia was plunged in consternation, and invoking Buddha, she went on +to shout to the servants to go and burn incense before the god of fire. + +Madame Wang and the rest of the members of the household lost no time in +crossing over in a body to see how she was getting on. "The fire has +been already extinguished," they too assured her, "please, dear +ancestor, repair into your rooms!" + +But it was only after old lady Chia had seen the light of the flames +entirely subside that she at length led the whole company indoors. "What +was that girl up to, taking the firewood in that heavy fall of snow?" +Pao-yue thereupon vehemently inquired of goody Liu. "What, if she had got +frostbitten and fallen ill?" + +"It was the reference made recently to the firewood that was being +abstracted," his grandmother Chia said, "that brought about this fire; +and do you still go on asking more about it? Leave this story alone, and +tell us something else!" + +Hearing this reminder, Pao-yue felt constrained to drop the subject, much +against his wishes, and old goody Liu forthwith thought of something +else to tell them. + +"In our village," she resumed, "and on the eastern side of our +farmstead, there lives an old dame, whose age is this year, over ninety. +She goes in daily for fasting, and worshipping Buddha. Who'd have +thought it, she so moved the pity of the goddess of mercy that she gave +her this message in a dream: 'It was at one time ordained that you +should have no posterity, but as you have proved so devout, I have now +memorialised the Pearly Emperor to grant you a grandson!' The fact is, +this old dame had one son. This son had had too an only son; but he died +after they had with great difficulty managed to rear him to the age of +seventeen or eighteen. And what tears didn't they shed for him! But, in +course of time, another son was actually born to him. He is this year +just thirteen or fourteen, resembles a very ball of flower, (so plump is +he), and is clever and sharp to an exceptional degree! So this is indeed +a clear proof that those spirits and gods do exist!" + +This long tirade proved to be in harmony with dowager lady Chia's and +Madame Wang's secret convictions on the subject. Even Madame Wang +therefore listened to every word with all profound attention. Pao-yue, +however, was so pre-occupied with the story about the stolen firewood +that he fell in a brown study and gave way to conjectures. + +"Yesterday," T'an Ch'un at this point remarked, "We put cousin Shih to a +lot of trouble and inconvenience, so, when we get back, we must consult +about convening a meeting, and, while returning her entertainment, we +can also invite our venerable ancestor to come and admire the +chrysanthemums; what do you think of this?" + +"Our worthy senior," smiled Pao-yue, "has intimated that she means to +give a banquet to return cousin Shih's hospitality, and to ask us to do +the honours. Let's wait therefore until we partake of grandmother's +collation, before we issue our own invitations; there will be ample time +then to do so." + +"The later it gets, the cooler the weather becomes," T'an Ch'un +observed, "and our dear senior is not likely to enjoy herself." + +"Grandmother," added Pao-yue, "is also fond of rain and snow, so wouldn't +it be as well to wait until the first fall, and then ask her to come and +look at the snow. This will be better, won't it? And were we to recite +our verses with snow about us, it will be ever so much more fun!" + +"To hum verses in the snow," Lin Tai-yue speedily demurred with a smile, +"won't, in my idea, be half as nice as building up a heap of firewood +and then stealing it, with the flakes playing about us. This will be by +far more enjoyable!" + +This proposal made Pao-ch'ai and the others laugh. Pao-yue cast a glance +at her but made no reply. + +But, in a short time, the company broke up. Pao-yue eventually gave old +goody Liu a tug on the sly and plied her with minute questions as to who +the girl was. The old dame was placed under the necessity of fabricating +something for his benefit. "The truth is," she said, "that there stands +on the north bank of the ditch in our village a small ancestral hall, in +which offerings are made, but not to spirits or gods. There was in +former days some official or other..." + +"While speaking, she went on to try and recollect his name and surname. + +"No matter about names or surnames!" Pao-yue expostulated. "There's no +need for you to recall them to memory! Just mention the facts; they'll +be enough." + +"This official," old goody Liu resumed, "had no son. His offspring +consisted of one young daughter, who went under the name of Jo Yue, (like +Jade). She could read and write, and was doated upon by this official +and his consort, just as if she were a precious jewel. But, +unfortunately, when this young lady, Jo Yue, grew up to be seventeen, she +contracted some disease and died." + +When these words fell on Pao-yue's ears, he stamped his foot and heaved a +sigh. "What happened after that?" he then asked. + +Old goody Liu pursued her story. + +"So incessantly," she continued, "did this official and his consort +think of their child that they raised this ancestral hall, erected a +clay image of their young daughter Jo Yue in it, and appointed some one +to burn incense and trim the fires. But so many days and years have now +elapsed that the people themselves are no more alive, the temple is in +decay, and the image itself is become a spirit." + +"It hasn't become a spirit," remonstrated Pao-yue with vehemence. "Human +beings of this kind may, the rule is, die, yet they are not dead." + +"O-mi-to-fu!" ejaculated old goody Liu; "is it really so! Had you, sir, +not enlightened us, we would have remained under the impression that she +had become a spirit! But she repeatedly transforms herself into a human +being, and there she roams about in every village, farmstead, inn and +roadside. And the one I mentioned just now as having taken the firewood +is that very girl! The villagers in our place are still consulting with +the idea of breaking this clay image and razing the temple to the +ground." + +"Be quick and dissuade them!" eagerly exclaimed Pao-yue. "Were they to +raze the temple to the ground, their crime won't be small." + +"It's lucky that you told me, Sir," old goody Liu added. "When I get +back to-morrow, I'll make them relinquish the idea and finish!" + +"Our venerable senior and my mother," Pao-yue pursued, "are both +charitable persons. In fact, all the inmates of our family, whether old +or young, do, in like manner, delight in good deeds, and take pleasure +in distributing alms. Their greatest relish is to repair temples, and to +put up images to the spirits; so to-morrow, I'll make a subscription and +collect a few donations for you, and you can then act as incense-burner. +When sufficient money has been raised, this fane can be repaired, and +another clay image put up; and month by month I'll give you incense and +fire money to enable you to burn joss-sticks; won't this be A good thing +for you?" + +"In that case," old goody Liu rejoined, "I shall, thanks to that young +lady's good fortune, have also a few cash to spend." + +Pao-yue thereupon likewise wanted to know what the name of the place was, +the name of the village, how far it was there and back, and whereabout +the temple was situated. + +Old goody Liu replied to his questions, by telling him every idle +thought that came first to her lips. Pao-yue, however, credited the +information she gave him and, on his return to his rooms, he exercised, +the whole night, his mind with building castles in the air. + +On the morrow, as soon as daylight dawned, he speedily stepped out of +his room, and, handing Pei Ming several hundreds of cash, he bade him +proceed first in the direction and to the place specified by old goody +Liu, and clearly ascertain every detail, so as to enable him, on his +return from his errand, to arrive at a suitable decision to carry out +his purpose. After Pei Ming's departure, Pao-yue continued on pins on +needles and on the tiptoe of expectation. Into such a pitch of +excitement did he work himself, that he felt like an ant in a burning +pan. With suppressed impatience, he waited and waited until sunset. At +last then he perceived Pei Ming walk in, in high glee. + +"Have you discovered the place?" hastily inquired Pao-yue. + +"Master," Pei Ming laughed, "you didn't catch distinctly the directions +given you, and you made me search in a nice way! The name of the place +and the bearings can't be those you gave me, Sir; that is why I've had +to hunt about the whole day long! I prosecuted my inquiries up to the +very ditch on the north east side, before I eventually found a ruined +temple." + +Upon hearing the result of his researches, Pao-yue was much gratified. +His very eyebrows distended. His eyes laughed. "Old goody Liu," he said +with eagerness, "is a person well up in years, and she may at the moment +have remembered wrong; it's very likely she did. But recount to me what +you saw." + +"The door of that temple," Pei Ming explained, "really faces south, and +is all in a tumble-down condition. I searched and searched till I was +driven to utter despair. As soon, however, as I caught sight of it, +'that's right,' I shouted, and promptly walked in. But I at once +discovered a clay figure, which gave me such a fearful start, that I +scampered out again; for it looked as much alive as if it were a real +living being." + +Pao-yue smiled full of joy. "It can metamorphose itself into a human +being," he observed, "so, of course, it has more or less a life-like +appearance." + +"Was it ever a girl?" Pei Ming rejoined clapping his hands. "Why it was, +in fact, no more than a green-faced and red-haired god of plagues." + +Pao-yue, at this answer, spat at him contemptuously. "You are, in very +truth, a useless fool!" he cried. "Haven't you even enough gumption for +such a trifling job as this?" + +"What book, I wonder, have you again been reading, master?" Pei Ming +continued. "Or you may, perhaps, have heard some one prattle a lot of +trash and believed it as true! You send me on this sort of wild goose +chase and make me go and knock my head about, and how can you ever say +that I'm good for nothing?" + +Pao-yue did not fail to notice that he was in a state of exasperation so +he lost no time in trying to calm him. "Don't be impatient!" he urged. +"You can go again some other day, when you've got nothing to attend to, +and institute further inquiries! If it turns out that she has +hood-winked us, why, there will, naturally, be no such thing. But if, +verily, there is, won't you also lay up for yourself a store of good +deeds? I shall feel it my duty to reward you in a most handsome manner." + +As he spoke, he espied a servant-lad, on service at the second gate, +approach and report to him: "The young ladies in our venerable +ladyship's apartments are standing at the threshold of the second gate +and looking out for you, Mr. Secundus." + +But as, reader, you are not aware what they were on the look-out to tell +him, the subsequent chapter will explain it for you. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + The venerable lady Shih attends a second banquet in the garden of + Broad Vista. + Chin Yuean-yang three times promulgates, by means of dominoes, the + order to quote passages from old writers. + + +As soon as Pao-yue, we will now explain, heard what the lad told him, he +rushed with eagerness inside. When he came to look about him, he +discovered Hu Po standing in front of the screen. "Be quick and go," she +urged. "They're waiting to speak to you." + +Pao-yue wended his way into the drawing rooms. Here he found dowager lady +Chia, consulting with Madame Wang and the whole body of young ladies, +about the return feast to be given to Shih Hsiang-yuen. + +"I've got a plan to suggest," he consequently interposed. "As there are +to be no outside guests, the eatables too should not be limited to any +kind or number. A few of such dishes, as have ever been to the liking of +any of us, should be fixed upon and prepared for the occasion. Neither +should any banquet be spread, but a high teapoy can be placed in front +of each, with one or two things to suit our particular tastes. Besides, +a painted box with partitions and a decanter. Won't this be an original +way?" + +"Capital!" shouted old lady Chia. "Go and tell the people in the cook +house," she forthwith ordered a servant, "to get ready to-morrow such +dishes as we relish, and to put them in as many boxes as there will be +people, and bring them over. We can have breakfast too in the garden." + +But while they were deliberating, the time came to light the lamps. +Nothing of any note transpired the whole night. The next day, they got +up at early dawn. The weather, fortunately, was beautifully clear. Li +Wan turned out of bed at daybreak. She was engaged in watching the old +matrons and servant-girls sweeping the fallen leaves, rubbing the tables +and chairs, and preparing the tea and wine vessels, when she perceived +Feng Erh usher in old goody Liu and Pan Erh. "You're very busy, our +senior lady!" they said. + +"I told you that you wouldn't manage to start yesterday," Li Wan smiled, +"but you were in a hurry to get away." + +"Your worthy old lady," goody Liu replied laughingly, "wouldn't let me +go. She wanted me to enjoy myself too for a day before I went." + +Feng Erh then produced several large and small keys. "Our mistress Lien +says," she remarked, "that she fears that the high teapoys which are out +are not enough, and she thinks it would be as well to open the loft and +take out those that are put away and use them for a day. Our lady should +really have come and seen to it in person, but as she has something to +tell Madame Wang, she begs your ladyship to open the place, and get a +few servants to bring them out." + +Li Wan there and then told Su Yuen to take the keys. She also bade a +matron go out and call a few servant-boys from those on duty at the +second gate. When they came, Li Wan remained in the lower story of the +Ta Kuan loft, and looking up, she ordered the servants to go and open +the Cho Chin hall and to bring the teapoys one by one. The young +servant-lads, matrons and servant-maids then set to work, in a body, and +carried down over twenty of them. + +"Be careful with them," shouted Li Wan. "Don't be bustling about just as +if you were being pursued by ghosts! Mind you don't break the tenons!" +Turning her head round, "old dame," she observed, addressing herself +smilingly to goody Liu, "go upstairs too and have a look!" + +Old goody Liu was longing to satisfy her curiosity, so at the bare +mention of the permission, she uttered just one word ("come") and, +dragging Pan Erh along, she trudged up the stairs. On her arrival +inside, she espied, pile upon pile, a whole heap of screens, tables and +chairs, painted lanterns of different sizes, and other similar articles. +She could not, it is true, make out the use of the various things, but, +at the sight of so many colours, of such finery and of the unusual +beauty of each article, she muttered time after time the name of Buddha, +and then forthwith wended her way downstairs. Subsequently (the +servants) locked the doors and every one of them came down. + +"I fancy," cried Li Wan, "that our dowager lady will feel disposed (to +go on the water), so you'd better also get the poles, oars and awnings +for the boats and keep them in readiness." + +The servants expressed their obedience. Once more they unlocked the +doors, and carried down everything required. She then bade a lad notify +the boatwomen go to the dock and punt out two boats. But while all this +bustle was going on, they discovered that dowager lady Chia had already +arrived at the head of a whole company of people. Li Wan promptly went +up to greet them. + +"Dear venerable senior," she smiled, "you must be in good spirits to +have come in here! Imagining that you hadn't as yet combed your hair, I +just plucked a few chrysanthemums, meaning to send them to you." + +While she spoke, Pi Yueeh at once presented to her a jadite tray, of the +size of a lotus leaf, containing twigs cut from every species of +chrysanthemum. Old lady Chia selected a cluster of deep red and pinned +it in her hair about her temples. But turning round, she noticed old +goody Liu. "Come over here," she vehemently cried with a smile; "and put +on a few flowers." + +Scarcely was this remark concluded, than lady Feng dragged goody Liu +forward. "Let me deck you up!" she laughed. With these words, she seized +a whole plateful of flowers and stuck them three this way, four that +way, all over her head. Old lady Chia, and the whole party were greatly +amused; so much so, that they could not check themselves. + +"I wonder," shouted goody Liu smiling, "what blessings I have brought +upon my head that such honours are conferred upon it to-day!" + +"Don't you yet pull them away," they all laughed, "and chuck them in her +face! She has got you up in such a way as to make a regular old elf of +you!" + +"I'm an old hag, I admit," goody Liu pursued with a laugh; "but when I +was young, I too was pretty and fond of flowers and powder! But the best +thing I can do now is to keep to such fineries as befit my advanced +age!" + +While they bandied words, they reached the Hsin Fang pavilion. The +waiting maids brought a large embroidered rug and spread it over the +planks of the divan near the balustrade. On this rug dowager lady Chia +sat, with her back leaning against the railing; and, inviting goody Liu +to also take a seat next to her, "Is this garden nice or not?" she asked +her. + +Old goody Liu invoked Buddha several times. "We country-people," she +rejoined, "do invariably come, at the close of each year, into the city +and buy pictures and stick them about. And frequently do we find +ourselves in our leisure moments wondering how we too could manage to +get into the pictures, and walk about the scenes they represent. I +presumed that those pictures were purely and simply fictitious, for how +could there be any such places in reality? But, contrary to my +expectations, I found, as soon as I entered this garden to-day and had a +look about it, that it was, after all, a hundred times better than these +very pictures. But if only I could get some one to make me a sketch of +this garden, to take home with me and let them see it, so that when we +die we may have reaped some benefit!" + +Upon catching the wish she expressed, dowager lady Chia pointed at Hsi +Ch'un. "Look at that young granddaughter of mine!" she smiled. "She's +got the knack of drawing. So what do you say to my asking her to-morrow +to make a picture for you?" + +This suggestion filled goody Liu with enthusiasm and speedily crossing +over, she clasped Hsi Ch'un in her arms. "My dear Miss!" she cried, "so +young in years, and yet so pretty, and so accomplished too! Mightn't you +be a spirit come to life!" + +After old lady Chia had had a little rest, she in person took goody Liu +and showed her everything there was to be seen. First, they visited the +Hsiao Hsiang lodge. The moment they stepped into the entrance, a narrow +avenue, flanked on either side with kingfisher-like green bamboos, met +their gaze. The earth below was turfed all over with moss. In the +centre, extended a tortuous road, paved with pebbles. Goody Liu left +dowager lady Chia and the party walk on the raised road, while she +herself stepped on the earth. But Hu Po tugged at her. "Come up, old +dame, and walk here!" she exclaimed. "Mind the fresh moss is slippery +and you might fall." + +"I don't mind it!" answered goody Liu. "We people are accustomed to +walking (on such slippery things)! So, young ladies, please proceed. And +do look after your embroidered shoes! Don't splash them with mud." + +But while bent upon talking with those who kept on the raised road, she +unawares reached a spot, which was actually slippery, and with a sound +of "ku tang" she tumbled over. + +The whole company clapped their hands and laughed boisterously. + +"You young wenches," shouted out dowager lady Chia, "don't you yet raise +her up, but stand by giggling?" + +This reprimand was still being uttered when goody Liu had already +crawled up. She too was highly amused. "Just as my mouth was bragging," +she observed, "I got a whack on the lips!" + +"Have you perchance twisted your waist?" inquired old lady Chia. "Tell +the servant-girls to pat it for you!" + +"What an idea!" retorted goody Liu, "am I so delicate? What day ever +goes by without my tumbling down a couple of times? And if I had to be +patted every time wouldn't it be dreadful!" + +Tzu Chuan had at an early period raised the speckled bamboo portiere. +Dowager lady Chia and her companions entered and seated themselves. Lin +Tai-yue with her own hands took a small tray and came to present a +covered cup of tea to her grandmother. + +"We won't have any tea!" Madame Wang interposed, "so, miss, you needn't +pour any." + +Lin Tai-yue, hearing this, bade a waiting-maid fetch the chair from under +the window where she herself often sat, and moving it to the lower side, +she pressed Madame Wang into it. But goody Liu caught sight of the +pencils and inkslabs, lying on the table placed next to the window, and +espied the bookcase piled up to the utmost with books. "This must +surely," the old dame ejaculated, "be some young gentleman's study!" + +"This is the room of this granddaughter-in-law of mine," dowager lady +Chia explained, smilingly pointing to Tai-yue. + +Goody Liu scrutinised Lin Tai-yue with intentness for a while. "Is this +anything like a young lady's private room?" she then observed with a +smile. "Why, in very deed, it's superior to any first class library!" + +"How is it I don't see Pao-yue?" his grandmother Chia went on to inquire. + +"He's in the boat, on the pond," the waiting-maids, with one voice, +returned for answer. + +"Who also got the boats ready?" old lady Chia asked. + +"The loft was open just now so they were taken out," Li Wan said, "and +as I thought that you might, venerable senior, feel inclined to have a +row, I got everything ready." + +After listening to this explanation, dowager lady Chia was about to pass +some remark, but some one came and reported to her that Mrs. Hsueeh had +arrived. No sooner had old lady Chia and the others sprung to their feet +than they noticed that Mrs. Hsueeh had already made her appearance. While +taking a seat: "Your venerable ladyship," she smiled, "must be in +capital spirits to-day to have come at this early hour!" + +"It's only this very minute that I proposed that any one who came late, +should be fined," dowager lady Chia laughed, "and, who'd have thought +it, here you, Mrs. Hsueeh, arrive late!" + +After they had indulged in good-humoured raillery for a time, old lady +Chia's attention was attracted by the faded colour of the gauze on the +windows, and she addressed herself to Madame Wang. "This gauze," she +said, "may have been nice enough when it was newly pasted, but after a +time nothing remained of kingfisher green. In this court too there are +no peach or apricot trees and these bamboos already are green in +themselves, so were this shade of green gauze to be put up again, it +would, instead of improving matters, not harmonise with the +surroundings. I remember that we had at one time four or five kinds of +coloured gauzes for sticking on windows, so give her some to-morrow to +change that on there." + +"When I opened the store yesterday," hastily put in Lady Feng, "I +noticed that there were still in those boxes, made of large planks, +several rolls of 'cicada wing' gauze of silvery red colour. There were +also several rolls with designs of twigs of flowers of every kind, +several with 'the rolling clouds and bats' pattern, and several with +figures representing hundreds of butterflies, interspersed among +flowers. The colours of all these were fresh, and the gauze supple. But +I failed to see anything of the kind you speak of. Were two rolls taken +(from those I referred to), and a couple of bed-covers of embroidered +gauze made out of them, they would, I fancy, be a pretty sight!" + +"Pshaw!" laughed old lady Chia, "every one says that there's nothing you +haven't gone through and nothing you haven't seen, and don't you even +know what this gauze is? Will you again brag by and bye, after this?" + +Mrs. Hsueeh and all the others smiled. "She may have gone through a good +deal," they remarked, "but how can she ever presume to pit herself +against an old lady like you? So why don't you, venerable senior, tell +her what it is so that we too may be edified." + +Lady Feng too gave a smile. "My dear ancestor," she pleaded, "do tell me +what it is like." + +Dowager lady Chia thereupon proceeded to enlighten Mrs. Hsueeh and the +whole company. "That gauze is older in years than any one of you," she +said. "It isn't therefore to be wondered, if you make a mistake and take +it for 'cicada wing' gauze. But it really bears some resemblance to it; +so much so, indeed, that any one, not knowing the difference, would +imagine it to be the 'cicada wing' gauze. Its true name, however, is +'soft smoke' silk." + +"This is also a nice sounding name," lady Feng agreed. "But up to the +age I've reached, I have never heard of any such designation, in spite +of the many hundreds of specimens of gauzes and silks, I've seen." + +"How long can you have lived?" old lady Chia added smilingly, "and how +many kinds of things can you have met, that you indulge in this tall +talk? Of this 'soft smoke' silk, there only exist four kinds of colours. +The one is red-blue; the other is russet; the other pine-green; the +other silvery-red; and it's because, when made into curtains or stuck on +window-frames, it looks from far like smoke or mist, that it is called +'soft smoke' silk. The silvery-red is also called 'russet shadow' gauze. +Among the gauzes used in the present day, in the palace above, there are +none so supple and rich, light and closely-woven as this!" + +"Not to speak of that girl Feng not having seen it," Mrs. Hsueeh laughed, +"why, even I have never so much as heard anything of it." + +While the conversation proceeded in this strain, lady Feng soon directed +a servant to fetch a roll. "Now isn't this the kind!" dowager lady Chia +exclaimed. "At first, we simply had it stuck on the window frames, but +we subsequently used it for covers and curtains, just for a trial, and +really they were splendid! So you had better to-morrow try and find +several rolls, and take some of the silvery-red one and have it fixed on +the windows for her." + +While lady Feng promised to attend to her commission, the party +scrutinised it, and unanimously extolled it with effusion. Old goody Liu +too strained her eyes and examined it, and her lips incessantly muttered +Buddha's name. "We couldn't," she ventured, "afford to make clothes of +such stuff, much though we may long to do so; and won't it be a pity to +use it for sticking on windows?" + +"But it doesn't, after all, look well, when made into clothes," old lady +Chia explained. + +Lady Feng hastily pulled out the lapel of the deep-red brocaded gauze +jacket she had on, and, facing dowager lady Chia and Mrs. Hsueeh, "Look +at this jacket of mine," she remarked. + +"This is also of first-rate quality!" old lady Chia and Mrs. Hsueeh +rejoined. "This is nowadays made in the palace for imperial use, but it +can't possibly come up to this!" + +"It's such thin stuff," lady Feng observed, "and do you still say that +it was made in the palace for imperial use? Why, it doesn't, in fact, +compare favourably with even this, which is worn by officials!" + +"You'd better search again!" old lady Chia urged; "I believe there must +be more of it! If there be, bring it all out, and give this old relative +Liu a couple of rolls! Should there be any red-blue, I'll make a curtain +to hang up. What remains can be matched with some lining, and cut into a +few double waistcoats for the waiting-maids to wear. It would be sheer +waste to keep these things, as they will be spoilt by the damp." + +Lady Feng vehemently acquiesced; after which, she told a servant to take +the gauze away. + +"These rooms are so small!" dowager lady Chia then observed, smiling. +"We had better go elsewhere for a stroll." + +"Every one says," old goody Liu put in, "that big people live in big +houses! When I saw yesterday your main apartments, dowager lady, with +all those large boxes, immense presses, big tables, and spacious beds to +match, they did, indeed, present an imposing sight! Those presses are +larger than our whole house; yea loftier too! But strange to say there +were ladders in the back court. 'They don't also,' I thought, 'go up to +the house tops to sun things, so what can they keep those ladders in +readiness for?' Well, after that, I remembered that they must be +required for opening the presses to take out or put in things. And that +without those ladders, how could one ever reach that height? But now +that I've also seen these small rooms, more luxuriously got up than the +large ones, and full of various articles, all so fascinating and hardly +even known to me by name, I feel, the more I feast my eyes on them, the +more unable to tear myself away from them." + +"There are other things still better than this," lady Feng added. "I'll +take you to see them all!" + +Saying this, they straightway left the Hsiao Hsiang lodge. From a +distance, they spied a whole crowd of people punting the boats in the +lake. + +"As they've got the boats ready," old lady Chia proposed, "we may as +well go and have a row in them!" + +As she uttered this suggestion, they wended their steps along the +persicary-covered bank of the Purple Lily Isle. But before reaching the +lake, they perceived several matrons advancing that way with large +multi-coloured boxes in their hands, made all alike of twisted wire and +inlaid with gold. Lady Feng hastened to inquire of Madame Wang where +breakfast was to be served. + +"Ask our venerable senior," Madame Wang replied, "and let them lay it +wherever she pleases." + +Old lady Chia overheard her answer, and turning her head round: "Miss +Tertia," she said, "take the servants, and make them lay breakfast +wherever you think best! We'll get into the boats from here." + +Upon catching her senior's wishes, lady Feng retraced her footsteps, and +accompanied by Li Wan, T'an Ch'un, Yuean Yang and Hu Po, she led off the +servants, carrying the eatables, and other domestics, and came by the +nearest way, to the Ch'iu Shuang library, where they arranged the tables +in the Hsiao Ts'ui hall. + +"We daily say that whenever the gentlemen outside have anything to drink +or eat, they invariably have some one who can raise a laugh and whom +they can chaff for fun's sake," Yuan Yang smiled, "so let's also to-day +get a female family-companion." + +Li Wan, being a person full of kindly feelings, did not fathom the +insinuation, though it did not escape her ear. Lady Feng, however, +thoroughly understood that she alluded to old goody Liu. "Let us too +to-day," she smilingly remarked, "chaff her for a bit of fun!" + +These two then began to mature their plans. + +Li Wan chided them with a smile. "You people," she said, "don't know +even how to perform the least good act! But you're not small children +any more, and are you still up to these pranks? Mind, our venerable +ancestor might call you to task!" + +"That has nothing whatever to do with you, senior lady," Yuean Yang +laughed, "it's my own look out!" + +These words were still on her lips, when she saw dowager lady Chia and +the rest of the company arrive. They each sat where and how they +pleased. First and foremost, a waiting-maid brought two trays of tea. +After tea, lady Feng laid hold of a napkin, made of foreign cloth, in +which were wrapped a handful of blackwood chopsticks, encircled with +three rings, of inlaid silver, and distributed them on the tables, in +the order in which they were placed. + +"Bring that small hard-wood table over," old lady Chia then exclaimed; +"and let our relative Liu sit next to me here!" + +No sooner did the servants hear her order than they hurried to move the +table to where she wanted it. Lady Feng, during this interval, made a +sign with her eye to Yuean Yang. Yuean Yang there and then dragged goody +Liu out of the hall and began to impress in a low tone of voice various +things on her mind. "This is the custom which prevails in our +household," she proceeded, "and if you disregard it we'll have a laugh +at your expense!" + +Having arranged everything she had in view, they at length returned to +their places. Mrs. Hsueeh had come over, after her meal, so she simply +seated herself on one side and sipped her tea. Dowager lady Chia with +Pao-yue, Hsiang-yuen, Tai-yue and Pao-ch'ai sat at one table. Madame Wang +took the girls, Ying Ch'un, and her sisters, and occupied one table. Old +goody Liu took a seat at a table next to dowager lady Chia. Heretofore, +while their old mistress had her repast, a young servant-maid usually +stood by her to hold the finger bowl, yak-brush, napkin and other such +necessaries, but Yuean Yang did not of late fulfil any of these duties, +so when, on this occasion, she deliberately seized the yak-brush and +came over and flapped it about, the servant-girls concluded that she was +bent upon playing some tricks upon goody Liu, and they readily withdrew +and let her have her way. + +While Yuean Yang attended to her self-imposed duties, she winked at the +old dame. + +"Miss," goody Liu exclaimed, "set your mind at ease!" Goody Liu sat down +at the table and took up the chopsticks, but so heavy and clumsy did she +find them that she could not handle them conveniently. The fact is that +lady Feng and Yuean Yang had put their heads together and decided to only +assign to goody Liu a pair of antiquated four-cornered ivory chopsticks, +inlaid with gold. + +"These forks," shouted goody Liu, after scrutinising them, "are heavier +than the very iron-lever over at my place. How ever can I move them +about?" + +This remark had the effect of making every one explode into a fit of +laughter. But a married woman standing in the centre of the room, with a +box in her hands, attracted their gaze. A waiting-maid went up to her +and removed the cover of the box. Its contents were two bowls of +eatables. Li Wan took one of these and placed it on dowager lady Chia's +table, while lady Feng chose the bowl with pigeon's eggs and put it on +goody Liu's table. + +"Please (commence)," Dowager lady Chia uttered from the near side, where +she sat. + +Goody Liu at this speedily sprung to her feet. "Old Liu, old Liu," she +roared with a loud voice, "your eating capacity is as big as that of a +buffalo! You've gorged like an old sow and can't raise your head up!" +Then puffing out her cheeks, she added not a word. + +The whole party was at first taken quite aback. But, as soon as they +heard the drift of her remarks, every one, both high as well as low, +began to laugh boisterously. Hsiang-yuen found it so difficult to +restrain herself that she spurted out the tea she had in her mouth. Lin +Tai-yue indulged in such laughter that she was quite out of breath, and +propping herself up on the table, she kept on ejaculating 'Ai-yo.' +Pao-yue rolled into his grandmother's lap. The old lady herself was so +amused that she clasped Pao-yue in her embrace, and gave way to endearing +epithets. Madame Wang laughed, and pointed at lady Feng with her finger; +but as for saying a word, she could not. Mrs. Hsueeh had much difficulty +in curbing her mirth, and she sputtered the tea, with which her mouth +was full, all over T'an Ch'un's petticoat. T'an Ch'un threw the contents +of the teacup, she held in her hand, over Ying Ch'un; while Hsi Ch'un +quitted her seat, and, pulling her nurse away, bade her rub her stomach +for her. + +Below, among the lower seats, there was not one who was not with bent +waist and doubled-up back. Some retired to a corner and, squatting down, +laughed away. Others suppressed their laughter and came up and changed +the clothes of their young mistresses. Lady Feng and Yuan Yang were the +only ones, who kept their countenance. Still they continued helping old +goody Liu to food. + +Old goody Liu took up the chopsticks. "Even the chickens in this place +are fine," she went on to add, pretending, she did not hear what was +going on; "the eggs they lay are small, but so dainty! How very pretty +they are! Let me help myself to one!" + +The company had just managed to check themselves, but, the moment these +words fell on their ears, they started again with their laughter. Old +lady Chia laughed to such an extent that tears streamed from her eyes. +And so little could she bear the strain any longer that Hu Po stood +behind her and patted her. + +"This must be the work of that vixen Feng!" old lady Chia laughed. "She +has ever been up to tricks like a very imp, so be quick and disbelieve +all her yarns!" + +Goody Liu was in the act of praising the eggs as small yet dainty, when +lady Feng interposed with a smile. "They're one tael each, be quick, and +taste them;" she said; "they're not nice when they get cold!" + +Goody Liu forthwith stretched out the chopsticks with the intent of +catching one; but how could she manage to do so? They rolled and rolled +in the bowl for ever so long; and, it was only after extreme difficulty +that she succeeded in shoving one up. Extending her neck forward, she +was about to put it in her mouth, when it slipped down again, and rolled +on to the floor. She hastily banged down the chopsticks, and was going +herself to pick it up, when a servant, who stood below, got hold of it +and took it out of the room. + +Old goody Liu heaved a sigh. "A tael!" she soliloquised, "and here it +goes without a sound!" + +Every one had long ago abandoned all idea of eating, and, gazing at her, +they enjoyed the fun. + +"Who has now brought out these chopsticks again?" old lady Chia went on +to ask. "We haven't invited any strangers or spread any large banquet! +It must be that vixen Feng who gave them out! But don't you yet change +them!" + +The servants, standing on the floor below, had indeed had no hand in +getting those ivory chopsticks; they had, in fact, been brought by lady +Feng and Yuean Yang; but when they heard these remarks, they hurried to +put them away and to change them for a pair similar to those used by the +others, made of blackwood inlaid with silver. + +"They've taken away the gold ones," old goody Liu shouted, "and here +come silver ones! But, after all, they're not as handy as those we use!" + +"Should there be any poison in the viands," lady Feng observed, "you can +detect it, as soon as this silver is dipped into them!" + +"If there's poison in such viands as these," old goody Liu added, "why +those of ours must be all arsenic! But though it be the death of me, +I'll swallow every morsel!" + +Seeing how amusing the old woman was and with what relish she devoured +her food, dowager lady Chia took her own dishes and passed them over to +her. + +She then likewise bade an old matron take various viands and put them in +a bowl for Pan Erh. But presently, the repast was concluded, and old +lady Chia and all the other inmates adjoined into T'an Ch'un's bedroom +for a chat. + +The remnants were, meanwhile, cleared away, and fresh tables were laid. + +Old goody Liu watched Li Wan and lady Feng sit opposite each other and +eat. "Putting everything else aside," she sighed, "what most takes my +fancy is the way things are done in your mansion. It isn't to be +wondered at that the adage has it that: 'propriety originates from great +families.'" + +"Don't be too touchy," lady Feng hastily smiled, "we all made fun of you +just now." + +But barely had she done speaking, when Yuean Yang too walked in. "Old +goody Liu," she said laughingly, "don't be angry! I tender you my +apologies, venerable dame!" + +"What are you saying, Miss?" old goody Liu rejoined smiling. "We've +coaxed our dowager lady to get a little distraction; and what reason is +there to be angry? From the very first moment you spoke to me, I knew at +once that it was intended to afford merriment to you all! Had I been +angry at heart, I wouldn't have gone so far as to say what I did!" + +Yuean Yang then blew up the servants. "Why," she shouted, "don't you pour +a cup of tea for the old dame?" + +"That sister-in-law," promptly explained old goody Liu, "gave me a cup a +little while back. I've had it already. But you, Miss, must also have +something to eat." + +Lady Feng dragged Yuean Yang into a seat. "Have your meal with us!" she +said. "You'll thus save another fuss by and bye." + +Yuean Yang readily seated herself. The matrons came up and added to the +number of bowls and chopsticks, and the trio went through their meal. + +"From all I see," smiled goody Liu, "you people eat just a little and +finish. It's lucky you don't feel the pangs of hunger! But it isn't +astonishing if a whiff of wind can puff you over!" + +"A good many eatables remained over to-day. Where are they all gone to?" +Yuean Yang inquired. + +"They haven't as yet been apportioned!" the matrons responded. "They're +kept in here until they can be given in a lump to them to eat!" + +"They can't get through so many things!" Yuean Yang resumed. "You had as +well therefore choose two bowls and send them over to that girl P'ing, +in your mistress Secundus' rooms." + +"She has had her repast long ago." lady Feng put in. "There's no need to +give her any!" + +"With what she can't eat, herself," Yuean Yang continued, "she can feed +the cats." + +At these words, a matron lost no time in selecting two sorts of +eatables, and, taking the box, she went to take them over. + +"Where's Su Yun gone to?" Yuean Yang asked. + +"They're all in here having their meal together." Li Wan replied. "What +do you want her for again?" + +"Well, in that case, never mind," Yuean Yang answered. + +"Hsi Jen isn't here," lady Feng observed, "so tell some one to take her +a few things!" + +Yuan Yang, hearing this, directed a servant to send her also a few +eatables. "Have the partition boxes been filled with wine for by and +bye?" Yuean Yang went on to ask the matrons. + +"They'll be ready, I think, in a little while," a matron explained. + +"Hurry them up a bit!" Yuean Yang added. + +The matron signified her assent. + +Lady Feng and her friends then came into T'an Ch'un's apartments, where +they found the ladies chatting and laughing. + +T'an Ch'un had ever shown an inclination for plenty of room. Hence that +suite of three apartments had never been partitioned. In the centre was +placed a large table of rosewood and Ta li marble. On this table, were +laid in a heap every kind of copyslips written by persons of note. +Several tens of valuable inkslabs and various specimens of tubes and +receptacles for pens figured also about; the pens in which were as +thickly packed as trees in a forest. On the off side, stood a flower +bowl from the 'Ju' kiln, as large as a bushel measure. In it was placed, +till it was quite full, a bunch of white chrysanthemums, in appearance +like crystal balls. In the middle of the west wall, was suspended a +large picture representing vapor and rain; the handiwork of Mi +Nang-yang. On the left and right of this picture was hung a pair of +antithetical scrolls--the autograph of Yen Lue. The lines on these +scrolls were: + + Wild scenes are to the taste of those who leisure love, + And springs and rookeries are their rustic resort. + +On the table, figured a large tripod. On the left, stood on a blackwood +cabinet, a huge bowl from a renowned government kiln. This bowl +contained about ten "Buddha's hands" of beautiful yellow and fine +proportions. On the right, was suspended, on a Japanese-lacquered frame, +a white jade sonorous plate. Its shape resembled two eyes, one by the +side of the other. Next to it hung a small hammer. + +Pan Erh had become a little more confident and was about to seize the +hammer and beat the plate, when the waiting-maids hastened to prevent +him. Next, he wanted a "Buddha's hand" to eat. T'an Ch'un chose one and +let him have it. "You may play with it," she said, "but you can't eat +it." + +On the east side stood a sleeping divan. On a movable bed was hung a +leek-green gauze curtain, ornamented with double embroideries, +representing flowers, plants and insects. Pan Erh ran up to have a look. +"This is a green-cicada," he shouted; "this a grasshopper!" + +But old goody Liu promptly gave him a slap. "You mean scamp!" she cried. +"What an awful rumpus you're kicking up! I simply brought you along with +me to look at things; and lo, you put on airs;" and she beat Pan Erh +until he burst out crying. It was only after every one quickly combined +in using their efforts to solace him that he at length desisted. + +Old lady Chia then looked through the gauze casement into the back court +for some time. "The dryandra trees by the eaves of the covered passage +are growing all right," she remarked. "The only thing is that their +foliage is rather sparse." + +But while she passed this remark, a sudden gust of wind swept by, and +faintly on her ear fell the strains of music. "In whose house is there a +wedding?" old lady Chia inquired. "This place must be very near the +street!" + +"How could one hear what's going on in the street?" Madame Wang and the +others smiled. "It's our twelve girls practising on their wind and +string instruments!" + +"As they're practising," dowager lady Chia eagerly cried, smilingly, +"why not ask them to come in here and practise? They'll be able to have +a stroll also, while we, on our part, will derive some enjoyment." + +Upon hearing this suggestion, lady Feng immediately directed a servant +to go out and call them in. She further issued orders to bring a table +and spread a red cover over it. + +"Let it be put," old lady Chia chimed in, "in the water-pavilion of the +Lotus Fragrance Arbour, for (the music) will borrow the ripple of the +stream and sound ever so much more pleasant to the ear. We can by and +bye drink our wine in the Cho Chin Hall; we'll thus have ample room, and +be able to listen from close!" + +Every one admitted that the spot was well adapted. Dowager lady Chia +turned herself towards Mrs. Hsueeh. "Let's get ahead!" she laughed. "The +young ladies don't like any one to come in here, for fear lest their +quarters should get contaminated; so don't let us show ourselves +disregardful of their wishes! The right thing would be to go and have +our wine aboard one of those boats!" + +As she spoke, one and all rose to their feet. They were making their way +out when T'an Ch'un interposed. "What's this that you're saying?" she +smiled. "Please do seat yourselves, venerable senior, and you, Mrs. +Hsueeh, and Madame Wang! You can't be going yet?" + +"These three girls of mine are really nice! There are only two +mistresses that are simply dreadful." Dowager lady Chia said smilingly. +"When we get drunk shortly, we'll go and sit in their rooms and have a +lark!" + +These words evoked laughter from every one. In a body they quitted the +place. But they had not proceeded far before they reached the bank +covered with aquatic plants, to which place the boat-women, who had been +brought from Ku Su, had already punted two crab-wood boats. Into one of +these boats, they helped old lady Chia, Madame Wang, Mrs. Hsueeh, old +goody Liu, Yuean Yang, and Yue Ch'uan-Erh. Last in order Li Wan followed +on board. But lady Feng too stepped in, and standing up on the bow, she +insisted upon punting. + +Dowager lady Chia, however, remonstrated from her seat in the bottom of +the boat. "This isn't a joke," she cried, "we're not on the river, it's +true, but there are some very deep places about, so be quick and come +in. Do it for my sake." + +"What's there to be afraid of?" lady Feng laughed. "Compose your mind, +worthy ancestor." + +Saying this, the boat was pushed off with one shove. When it reached the +middle of the lake, lady Feng became nervous, for the craft was small +and the occupants many, and hastily handing the pole to a boatwoman, she +squatted down at last. + +Ying Ch'un, her sisters, their cousins, as well as Pao-yue subsequently +got on board the second boat, and followed in their track; while the +rest of the company, consisting of old nurses and a bevy of +waiting-maids, kept pace with them along the bank of the stream. + +"All these broken lotus leaves are dreadful!" Pao-yue shouted. "Why don't +you yet tell the servants to pull them off?" + +"When was this garden left quiet during all the days of this year?" +Pao-ch'ai smiled. "Why, people have come, day after day, to visit it, so +was there ever any time to tell the servants to come and clean it?" + +"I have the greatest abhorrence," Lin Tai-yue chimed in, "for Li I's +poetical works, but there's only this line in them which I like: + + "'Leave the dry lotus leaves so as to hear the patter of the rain.' + +"and here you people deliberately mean again not to leave the dry lotus +stay where they are." + +"This is indeed a fine line!" Pao-yue exclaimed. "We mustn't hereafter +let them pull them away!" + +While this conversation continued, they reached the shoaly inlet under +the flower-laden beech. They felt a coolness from the shady overgrowth +penetrate their very bones. The decaying vegetation and the withered +aquatic chestnut plants on the sand-bank enhanced, to a greater degree, +the beauty of the autumn scenery. + +Dowager lady Chia at this point observed some spotless rooms on the +bank, so spick and so span. "Are not these Miss Hsueeh's quarters," she +asked. "Eh?" + +"Yes, they are!" everybody answered. + +Old lady Chia promptly bade them go alongside, and wending their way up +the marble steps, which seemed to lead to the clouds, they in a body +entered the Heng Wu court. Here they felt a peculiar perfume come +wafting into their nostrils, for the colder the season got the greener +grew that strange vegetation, and those fairy-like creepers. The various +plants were laden with seeds, which closely resembled red coral beans, +as they drooped in lovely clusters. + +The house, as soon as they put their foot into it, presented the aspect +of a snow cave. There was a total absence of every object of ornament. +On the table figured merely an earthenware vase, in which were placed +several chrysanthemums. A few books and teacups were also conspicuous, +but no further knicknacks. On the bed was suspended a green gauze +curtain, and of equally extreme plainness were the coverlets and +mattresses belonging to it. + +"This child," dowager lady Chia sighed, "is too simple! If you've got +nothing to lay about, why not ask your aunt for a few articles? I would +never raise any objection. I never thought about them. Your things, of +course, have been left at home, and have not been brought over." + +So saying, she told Yuan Yang to go and fetch several bric-a-brac. She +next went on to call lady Feng to task. + +"She herself wouldn't have them," (lady Feng) rejoined. "We really sent +over a few, but she refused every one of them and returned them." + +"In her home also," smiled Mrs. Hsueeh, "she does not go in very much for +such sort of things." + +Old lady Chia nodded her head. "It will never do!" she added. "It does, +it's true, save trouble; but were some relative to come on a visit, +she'll find things in an impossible way. In the second place, such +simplicity in the apartments of young ladies of tender age is quite +unpropitious! Why, if you young people go on in this way, we old fogies +should go further and live in stables! You've all heard what is said in +those books and plays about the dreadful luxury, with which young +ladies' quarters are got up. And though these girls of ours could not +presume to place themselves on the same footing as those young ladies, +they shouldn't nevertheless exceed too much the bounds of what +constitutes the right thing. If they have any objects ready at hand, why +shouldn't they lay them out? And if they have any strong predilection +for simplicity, a few things less will do quite as well. I've always had +the greatest knack for titifying a room, but being an old woman now I +haven't the ease and inclination to attend to such things! These girls +are, however, learning how to do things very nicely. I was afraid that +there would be an appearance of vulgarity in what they did, and that, +even had they anything worth having, they'd so place them about as to +spoil them; but from what I can see there's nothing vulgar about them. +But let me now put things right for you, and I'll wager that everything +will look grand as well as plain. I've got a couple of my own +knicknacks, which I've managed to keep to this day, by not allowing +Pao-yue to get a glimpse of them; for had he ever seen them, they too +would have long ago disappeared!" Continuing, she called Yuean Yang. +"Fetch that marble pot with scenery on it," she said to her; "that gauze +screen, and that tripod of transparent stone with black streaks, which +you'll find in there, and lay out all three on this table. They'll be +ample! Bring likewise those ink pictures and white silk curtains, and +change these curtains." + +Yuean Yang expressed her obedience. "All these articles have been put +away in the eastern loft," she smiled. "In what boxes they've been put, +I couldn't tell; I must therefore go and find them quietly and if I +bring them over to-morrow, it will be time enough." + +"To-morrow or the day after will do very well; but don't forget, that's +all," dowager lady Chia urged. + +While conversing, they sat for a while. Presently, they left the rooms +and repaired straightway into the Cho Chin hall. Wen Kuan and the other +girls came up and paid their obeisance. They next inquired what songs +they were to practise. + +"You'd better choose a few pieces to rehearse out of those you know +best," old lady Chia rejoined. + +Wen Kuan and her companions then withdrew and betook themselves to the +Lotus Fragrance Pavilion. But we will leave them there without further +allusion to them. + +During this while, lady Feng had already, with the help of servants, got +everything in perfect order. On the left and right of the side of honour +were placed two divans. These divans were completely covered with +embroidered covers and fine variegated mats. In front of each divan +stood two lacquer teapoys, inlaid, some with designs of crab-apple +flowers; others of plum blossom, some of lotus leaves, others of +sun-flowers. Some of these teapoys were square, others round. Their +shapes were all different. On each was placed a set consisting of a +stove and a bottle, also a box with partitions. The two divans and four +teapoys, in the place of honour, were used by dowager lady Chia and Mrs. +Hsueeh. The chair and two teapoys in the next best place, by Madame Wang. +The rest of the inmates had, all alike, a chair and a teapoy. On the +east side sat old goody Liu. Below old goody Liu came Madame Wang. On +the west was seated Shih Hsiang-yuen. The second place was occupied by +Pao-ch'ai; the third by Tai-yue; the fourth by Ying Ch'un. T'an Ch'un and +Hsi Ch'un filled the lower seats, in their proper order; Pao-yue sat in +the last place. The two teapoys assigned to Li Wan and lady Feng stood +within the third line of railings, and beyond the second row of gauze +frames. The pattern of the partition-boxes corresponded likewise with +the pattern on the teapoys. Each inmate had a black decanter, with +silver, inlaid in foreign designs; as well as an ornamented, enamelled +cup. + +After they had all occupied the seats assigned to them, dowager lady +Chia took the initiative and smilingly suggested: "Let's begin by +drinking a couple of cups of wine. But we should also have a game of +forfeits to-day, we'll have plenty of fun then." + +"You, venerable senior, must certainly have a good wine order to +impose," Mrs. Hsueeh laughingly observed, "but how could we ever comply +with it? But if your aim be to intoxicate us, why, we'll all straightway +drink one or two cups more than is good for us and finish!" + +"Here's Mrs. Hsueeh beginning to be modest again to-day!" old lady Chia +smiled. "But I expect it's because she looks down upon me as being an +old hag!" + +"It isn't modesty!" Mrs. Hsueeh replied smiling. "It's all a dread lest I +shouldn't be able to observe the order and thus incur ridicule." + +"If you don't give the right answer," Madame Wang promptly interposed +with a smile, "you'll only have to drink a cup or two more of wine, and +should we get drunk, we can go to sleep; and who'll, pray laugh at us?" + +Mrs. Hsueeh nodded her head. "I'll agree to the order," she laughed, +"but, dear senior, you must, after all, do the right thing and have a +cup of wine to start it." + +"This is quite natural!" old lady Chia answered laughingly; and with +these words, she forthwith emptied a cup. + +Lady Feng with hurried steps advanced to the centre of the room. "If we +are to play at forfeits," she smilingly proposed, "we'd better invite +sister Yuean Yang to come and join us." + +The whole company was perfectly aware that if dowager lady Chia had to +give out the rule of forfeits, Yuean Yang would necessarily have to +suggest it, so the moment they heard the proposal they, with common +consent, approved it as excellent. Lady Feng therefore there and then +dragged Yuean Yang over. + +"As you're to take a part in the game of forfeits," Madame Wang +smilingly observed, "there's no reason why you should stand up." And +turning her head round, "Bring over," she bade a young waiting-maid, "a +chair and place it at your Mistress Secunda's table." + +Yuean Yang, half refusing and half assenting, expressed her thanks, and +took the seat. After partaking also of a cup of wine, "Drinking rules," +she smiled, "resemble very much martial law; so irrespective of high or +low, I alone will preside. Any one therefore who disobeys my words will +have to suffer a penalty." + +"Of course, it should be so!" Madame Wang and the others laughed, "so be +quick and give out the rule!" + +But before Yuean Yang had as yet opened her lips to speak, old goody Liu +left the table, and waving her hand: "Don't," she said, "make fun of +people in this way, for I'll go home." + +"This will never do!" One and all smilingly protested. + +Yuean Yang shouted to the young waiting-maids to drag her back to her +table; and the maids, while also indulging in laughter, actually pulled +her and compelled her to rejoin the banquet. + +"Spare me!" old goody Liu kept on crying, "spare me!" + +"Any one who says one word more," Yuean Yang exclaimed, "will be fined a +whole decanter full." + +Old goody Liu then at length observed silence. + +"I'll now give out the set of dominoes." Yuean Yang proceeded. "I'll +begin from our venerable mistress and follow down in proper order until +I come to old goody Liu, when I shall stop. So as to illustrate what I +meant just now by giving out a set, I'll take these three dominoes and +place them apart; you have to begin by saying something on the first, +next, to allude to the second, and, after finishing with all three, to +take the name of the whole set and match it with a line, no matter +whether it be from some stanza or roundelay, song or idyl, set phrases +or proverbs. But they must rhyme. And any one making a mistake will be +mulcted in one cup." + +"This rule is splendid; begin at once!" they all exclaimed. + +"I've got a set," Yuean Yang pursued; "on the left, is the piece +'heaven,' (twelve dots)." + + "Above head stretches the blue heaven," + +dowager lady Chia said. + +"Good!" shouted every one. + +"In the centre is a five and six," Yuean Yang resumed. + + The fragrance of the plum blossom pierces the bones on the bridge + "Six," + +old lady Chia added. + + +"There now remains," Yuean Yang explained, "one piece, the six and one." + + "From among the fleecy clouds issues the wheel-like russet sun." + +dowager lady Chia continued. + +"The whole combined," Yuan Yang observed "forms 'the devil with +dishevelled hair.'" + + "This devil clasps the leg of the 'Chung Pa' devil," + +old lady Chia observed. + +At the conclusion of her recitation, they all burst out laughing. +"Capital!" they shouted. Old lady Chia drained a cup. Yuean Yang then +went on to remark, "I've got another set; the one on the left is a +double five." + + "Bud after bud of the plum bloom dances in the wind," + +Mrs. Hsueeh replied. + +"The one on the right is a ten spot," Yuean Yang pursued. + + "In the tenth moon the plum bloom on the hills emits its fragrant + smell," + +Mrs. Hsueeh added. + +"The middle piece is the two and five, making the 'unlike seven;'" Yuean +Yang observed. + + "The 'spinning damsel' star meets the 'cow-herd' on the eve of the + seventh day of the seventh moon," + +Miss Hsueeh said. + +"Together they form: 'Erh Lang strolls on the five mounds;'" Yuean Yang +continued. + + "Mortals cannot be happy as immortals," + +Mrs. Hsueeh rejoined. + +Her answers over, the whole company extolled them and had a drink. "I've +got another set!" Yuean Yang once more exclaimed. "On the left, are +distinctly the distant dots of the double ace." + + "Both sun and moon are so suspended as to shine on heaven and earth," + +Hsiang-yuen ventured. + +"On the right, are a couple of spots, far apart, which clearly form a +one and one." Yuean Yang pursued. + + "What time a lonesome flower falls to the ground, no sound is + audible," + +Hsiang-yuen rejoined. + +"In the middle, there is the one and four," Yuean Yang added. + + "The red apricot tree is planted by the sun, and leans against the + clouds;" + +Hsiang-yuen answered. + +"Together they form the 'cherry fruit ripens for the ninth time,'" Yuean +Yang said. + + "In the imperial garden it is pecked by birds." + +Hsiang-yuen replied. + +When she had done with her part, she drank a cup of wine. "I've got +another set," Yuean Yang began, "the one on the left is a double three." + + "The swallows, pair by pair, chatter on the beams;" + +Pao-ch'ai remarked. + +"The right piece is a six," Yuean Yang added. + + "The marsh flower is stretched by the breeze e'en to the length of a + green sash," + +Pao-ch'ai returned. + +"The centre piece is a three and six, making a nine spot," Yuean Yang +pursued. + + "The three hills tower half beyond the azure skies;" + +Pao-ch'ai rejoined. + +"Lumped together they form: a 'chain-bound solitary boat,'" Yuean Yang +resumed. + + "Where there are wind and waves, there I feel sad;" + +Pao-ch'ai answered. + +When she had finished her turn and drained her cup, Yuean Yang went on +again. "On the left," she said, "there's a 'heaven.'" + + "A morning fine and beauteous scenery, but, alas, what a day for me!" + +Tai-yue replied. + +When this line fell on Pao-chai's ear, she turned her head round and +cast a glance at her, but Tai-yue was so nervous lest she should have to +pay a forfeit that she did not so much as notice her. + +"In the middle there's the 'colour of the embroidered screen, (ten +spots, four and six), is beautiful,'" Yuean Yang proceeded. + + "Not e'en Hung Niang to the gauze window comes, any message to bring." + +Tai-yue responded. + +"There now remains a two and six, eight in all," Yuean Yang resumed. + + "Twice see the jady throne when led in to perform the court ritual," + +Tai-yue replied. + +"Together they form 'a basket suitable for putting plucked flowers in,'" +Yuean Yang continued. + + "The fairy wand smells nice as on it hangs a peony." + +Tai-yue retorted. + +At the close of her replies, she took a sip of wine. Yuean Yang then +resumed. "On the left," she said, "there's a four and five, making a +'different-combined nine.'" + + "The peach blossoms bear heavy drops of rain;" + +Ying Ch'un remarked. + +The company laughed. "She must be fined!" they exclaimed. "She has made +a mistake in the rhyme. Besides, it isn't right!" + +Ying Ch'un smiled and drank a sip. The fact is that both lady Feng and +Yuean Yang were so eager to hear the funny things that would be uttered +by old goody Liu, that they with one voice purposely ruled that every +one answered wrong and fined them. When it came to Madame Wang's turn, +Yuean Yang recited something for her. Next followed old goody Liu. + +"When we country-people have got nothing to do," old goody Liu said, "a +few of us too often come together and play this sort of game; but the +answers we give are not so high-flown; yet, as I can't get out of it, +I'll likewise make a try!" + +"It's easy enough to say what there is," one and all laughed, "so just +you go on and don't mind!" + +"On the left," Yuean Yang smiled, "there's a double four, i.e. 'man.'" + +Goody Liu listened intently. After considerable reflection, + + "It's a peasant!" + +she cried. + +One and all in the room blurted out laughing. + +"Well-said!" dowager lady Chia observed with a laugh, "that's the way." + +"All we country-people know," old goody Liu proceeded, also laughing, +"is just what comes within our own rough-and-ready wits, so young ladies +and ladies pray don't poke fun at me!" + +"In the centre there's the three and four, green matched with red," Yuean +Yang pursued. + + "The large fire burnt the hairy caterpillar;" + +old goody Liu ventured. + +"This will do very well!", the party laughed, "go on with what is in +your line." + +"On the right," Yuean Yang smilingly continued, "there's a one and four, +and is really pretty." + + "A turnip and a head of garlic." + +old goody Liu answered. + +This reply evoked further laughter from the whole company. + +"Altogether, it's a twig of flowers," Yuean Yang added laughing. + + "The flower dropped, and a huge melon formed." + +old goody Liu observed, while gesticulating with both her hands by way +of illustration. + +The party once more exploded in loud merriment. + +But, reader, if you entertain any curiosity to hear what else was said +during the banquet, listen to the explanation given in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + Chia Pao-yue tastes tea in the Lung Ts'ui monastery. + Old goody Liu gets drunk and falls asleep in the I Hung court. + + +Old goody Liu, so the story goes, exclaimed, while making signs with +both hands, + + "The flower dropped and a huge melon formed;" + +to the intense amusement of all the inmates, who burst into a boisterous +fit of laughter. In due course, however, she drank the closing cup. Then +she made another effort to evoke merriment. "To speak the truth to-day," +she smilingly observed, "my hands and my feet are so rough, and I've had +so much wine that I must be careful; or else I might, by a slip of the +hand, break the porcelain cups. If you have got any wooden cups, you'd +better produce them. It wouldn't matter then if even they were to slip +out of my hands and drop on the ground!" + +This joke excited some more mirth. But lady Feng, upon hearing this +speedily put on a smile. "Well," she said, "if you really want a wooden +one, I'll fetch you one at once! But there's just one word I'd like to +tell you beforehand. Wooden cups are not like porcelain ones. They go in +sets; so you'll have to do the right thing and drink from every cup of +the set." + +"I just now simply spoke in jest about those cups in order to induce +them to laugh," old goody Liu at these words, mused within herself, +"but, who would have thought that she actually has some of the kind. +I've often been to the large households of village gentry on a visit, +and even been to banquets there and seen both gold cups and silver cups; +but never have I beheld any wooden ones about! Ah, of course! They must, +I expect, be the wooden bowls used by the young children. Their object +must be to inveigle me to have a couple of bowlfuls more than is good +for me! But I don't mind it. This wine is, verily, like honey, so if I +drink a little more, it won't do me any harm." + +Bringing this train of thought to a close, "Fetch them!" she said aloud. +"We'll talk about them by and bye." + +Lady Feng then directed Feng Erh to go and bring the set of ten cups, +made of bamboo roots, from the book-case in the front inner room. Upon +hearing her orders, Feng Erh was about to go and execute them, when Yuean +Yang smilingly interposed. "I know those ten cups of yours," she +remarked, "they're small. What's more, a while back you mentioned wooden +ones, and if you have bamboo ones brought now, it won't look well; so +we'd better get from our place that set of ten large cups, scooped out +of whole blocks of aspen roots, and pour the contents of all ten of them +down her throat?" + +"Yes, that would be much better," lady Feng smiled. + +The cups were then actually brought by a servant, at the direction of +Yuean Yang. At the sight of them, old goody Liu was filled with surprise +as well as with admiration. Surprise, as the ten formed one set going in +gradation from large to small; the largest being amply of the size of a +small basin, the smallest even measuring two of those she held in her +hand. Admiration, as they were all alike, engraved, in perfect style, +with scenery, trees, and human beings, and bore inscriptions in the +'grass' character as well as the seal of the writer. + +"It will be enough," she consequently shouted with alacrity, "if you +give me that small one." + +"There's no one," lady Feng laughingly insinuated, "with the capacity to +tackle these! Hence it is that not a soul can pluck up courage enough to +use them! But as you, old dame, asked for them, and they were fished +out, after ever so much trouble, you're bound to do the proper thing and +drink out of each, one after the other." + +Old goody Liu was quite taken aback. "I daren't!" she promptly demurred. +"My dear lady, do let me off!" + +Dowager lady Chia, Mrs. Hsueeh and Madame Wang were quite alive to the +fact that a person advanced in years as she was could not be gifted with +such powers of endurance, and they hastened to smilingly expostulate. +"To speak is to speak, and a joke is a joke, but she mayn't take too +much," they said; "let her just empty this first cup, and have done." + +"O-mi-to-fu!" ejaculated old goody Liu. "I'll only have a small cupful, +and put this huge fellow away, and take it home and drink at my +leisure." + +At this remark, the whole company once more gave way to laughter. Yuean +Yang had no alternative but to give in and she had to bid a servant fill +a large cup full of wine. Old goody Liu laid hold of it with both hands +and raised it to her mouth. + +"Gently a bit!" old lady Chia and Mrs. Hsueeh shouted. "Mind you don't +choke!" + +Mrs. Hsueeh then told lady Feng to put some viands before her. "Goody +Liu!" smiled lady Feng, "tell me the name of anything you fancy, and +I'll bring it and feed you." + +"What names can I know?" old goody Liu rejoined. "Everything is good!" + +"Bring some egg-plant and salt-fish for her!" dowager lady Chia +suggested with a smile. + +Lady Feng, upon hearing this suggestion, complied with it by catching +some egg-plant and salt-fish with two chopsticks and putting them into +old goody Liu's mouth. "You people," she smiled, "daily feed on +egg-plants; so taste these of ours and see whether they've been nicely +prepared or not." + +"Don't be making a fool of me!" old goody Liu answered smilingly. "If +egg-plants can have such flavour, we ourselves needn't sow any cereals, +but confine ourselves to growing nothing but egg-plants!" + +"They're really egg-plants!" one and all protested. "She's not pulling +your leg!" + +Old goody Liu was amazed. "If these be actually egg-plants," she said, +"I've uselessly eaten them so long! But, my lady, do give me a few more; +I'd like to taste the next mouthful carefully!" + +Lady Feng brought her, in very deed, another lot, and put it in her +mouth. Old goody Liu munched for long with particular care. "There is, +it's true, something about them of the flavour of egg-plant," she +laughingly remarked, "yet they don't quite taste like egg-plants. But +tell me how they're cooked, so that I may prepare them in the same way +for myself." + +"There's nothing hard about it!" lady Feng answered smiling. "You take +the newly cut egg-plants and pare the skin off. All you want then is +some fresh meat. You hash it into fine mince, and fry it in chicken fat. +Then you take some dry chicken meat, and mix it with mushrooms, new +bamboo shoots, sweet mushrooms, dry beancurd paste, flavoured with five +spices, and every kind of dry fruits, and you chop the whole lot into +fine pieces. You then bake all these things in chicken broth, until it's +absorbed, when you fry them, to finish, in sweet oil, and adding some +oil, made of the grains of wine, you place them in a porcelain jar, and +close it hermetically. At any time that you want any to eat, all you +have to do is to take out some, and mix it with some roasted chicken, +and there it is all ready." + +Old goody Liu a shook her head and put out her tongue. "My Buddha's +ancestor!" she shouted. "One wants about ten chickens to prepare this +dish! It isn't strange then that it has this flavour!" + +Saying this, she quietly finished her wine. But still she kept on +minutely scrutinizing the cup. + +"Haven't you yet had enough to satisfy you?" lady Feng smiled. "If you +haven't, well, then drink another cup." + +"Dreadful!" eagerly exclaimed old goody Liu. "I shall be soon getting so +drunk that it will be the very death of me. I was only looking at it as +I admire pretty things like this! But what a trouble it must have cost +to turn out!" + +"Have you done with your wine?" Yuan Yang laughingly inquired. "But, +after all, what kind of wood is this cup made of?" + +"It isn't to be wondered at," old goody Liu smiled, "that you can't make +it out Miss! How ever could you people, who live inside golden doors and +embroidered apartments, know anything of wood! We have the whole day +long the trees in the woods as our neighbours. When weary, we use them +as our pillows and go to sleep on them. When exhausted, we sit with our +backs leaning against them. When, in years of dearth, we feel the pangs +of hunger, we also feed on them. Day after day, we see them with our +eyes; day after day we listen to them with our ears; day after day, we +talk of them with our mouths. I am therefore well able to tell whether +any wood be good or bad, genuine or false. Do let me then see what it +is!" + +As she spoke, she intently scanned the cup for a considerable length of +time. "Such a family as yours," she then said, "could on no account own +mean things! Any wood that is easily procured, wouldn't even find a +place in here. This feels so heavy, as I weigh it in my hands, that if +it isn't aspen, it must, for a certainty, be yellow cedar." + +Her rejoinder amused every one in the room. But they then perceived an +old matron come up. After asking permission of dowager lady Chia to +speak: "The young ladies," she said, "have got to the Lotus Fragrance +pavilion, and they request your commands, as to whether they should +start with the rehearsal at once or tarry a while." + +"I forgot all about them!" old lady Chia promptly cried with a smile. +"Tell them to begin rehearsing at once!" + +The matron expressed her obedience and walked away. Presently, became +audible the notes of the pan-pipe and double flute, now soft, now loud, +and the blended accents of the pipe and fife. So balmy did the breeze +happen to be and the weather so fine that the strains of music came +wafted across the arbours and over the stream, and, needless to say, +conduced to exhilarate their spirits and to cheer their hearts. Unable +to resist the temptation, Pao-yue was the first to snatch a decanter and +to fill a cup for himself. He quaffed it with one breath. Then pouring +another cup, he was about to drain it, when he noticed that Madame Wang +too was anxious for a drink, and that she bade a servant bring a warm +supply of wine. "With alacrity, Pao-yue crossed over to her, and, +presenting his own cup, he applied it to Madame Wang's lips. His mother +drank two sips while he held it in his hands, but on the arrival of the +warm wine, Pao-yue resumed his seat. Madame Wang laid hold of the warm +decanter, and left the table, while the whole party quitted their places +at the banquet; and Mrs. Hsueeh too rose to her feet. + +"Take over that decanter from her," dowager lady Chia promptly shouted +to Li Wan and lady Feng, "and press your aunt into a seat. We shall all +then feel at ease!" + +Hearing this, Madame Wang surrendered the decanter to lady Feng and +returned to her seat. + +"Let's all have a couple of cups of wine!" old lady Chia laughingly +cried. "It's capital fun to-day!" + +With this proposal, she laid hold of a cup and offered it to Mrs. Hsueeh. +Turning also towards Hsiang-yuen and Pao-ch'ai: "You two cousins!" she +added, "must also have a cup. Your cousin Lin can't take much wine, but +even she mustn't be let off." + +While pressing them, she drained her cup. Hsiang-yuen, Pao-ch'ai and +Tai-y ue then had their drink. But about this time old goody Liu caught +the strains of music, and, being already under the influence of liquor, +her spirits became more and more exuberant, and she began to gesticulate +and skip about. Her pranks amused Pao-yue to such a degree that leaving +the table, he crossed over to where Tai-yue was seated and observed +laughingly: "Just you look at the way old goody Liu is going on!" + +"In days of yore," Tai-yue smiled, "every species of animal commenced to +dance the moment the sounds of music broke forth. She's like a buffalo +now." + +This simile made her cousins laugh. But shortly the music ceased. "We've +all had our wine," Mrs. Hsueeh smilingly proposed, "so let's go and +stroll about for a time; we can after that sit down again!" + +Dowager lady Chia herself was at the moment feeling a strong inclination +to have a ramble. In due course, therefore, they all left the banquet +and went with their old senior, for a walk. Dowager lady Chia, however, +longed to take goody Liu along with her to help her dispel her ennui, so +promptly seizing the old dame's hand in hers, they threaded their way as +far as the trees, which stood facing the hill. After lolling about with +her for a few minutes, "What kind of tree is this?" she went on to +inquire of her. "What kind of stone is this? What species of flower is +that?" + +Old goody Liu gave suitable reply to each of her questions. "Who'd ever +have imagined it," she proceeded to tell dowager lady Chia; "not only +are the human beings in the city grand, but even the birds are grand. +Why, the moment these birds fly into your mansion, they also become +beautiful things, and acquire the gift of speech as well!" + +The company could not make out the drift of her observations. "What +birds get transformed into beautiful things and become able to speak?" +they felt impelled to ask. + +"Those perched on those gold stands, under the verandah, with green +plumage and red beaks are parrots. I know them well enough!" Goody Liu +replied. "But those old black crows in the cages there have crests like +phoenixes! They can talk too!" + +One and all laughed. But not long elapsed before they caught sight of +several waiting-maids, who came to invite them to a collation. + +"After the number of cups of wine I've had," old lady Chia said, "I +don't feel hungry. But never mind, bring the things here. We can nibble +something at our leisure." + +The maids speedily went off and fetched two teapoys; but they also +brought a couple of small boxes with partitions. When they came to be +opened and to be examined, the contents of each were found to consist of +two kinds of viands. In the one, were two sorts of steamed eatables. One +of these was a sweet cake, made of lotus powder, scented with +sun-flower. The other being rolls with goose fat and fir cone seeds. The +second box contained two kinds of fried eatables; one of which was small +dumplings, about an inch in size. + +"What stuffing have they put in them?" dowager lady Chia asked. + +"They're with crabs inside," 'hastily rejoined the matrons. + +Their old mistress, at this reply, knitted her eyebrows. "These fat, +greasy viands for such a time!" she observed. "Who'll ever eat these +things?" + +But finding, when she came to inspect the other kind, that it consisted +of small fruits of flour, fashioned in every shape, and fried in butter, +she did not fancy these either. She then however pressed Mrs. Hsueeh to +have something to eat, but Mrs. Hsueeh merely took a piece of cake, while +dowager lady Chia helped herself to a roll; but after tasting a bit, she +gave the remaining half to a servant girl. + +Goody Liu saw how beautifully worked those small flour fruits were, made +as they were in various colours and designs, and she took, after picking +and choosing, one which looked like a peony. "The most ingenious girls +in our village could not, even with a pair of scissors, cut out anything +like this in paper!" she exclaimed. "I would like to eat it, but I can't +make up my mind to! I had better pack up a few and take them home and +give them to them as specimens!" + +Her remarks amused every one. + +"When you start for home," dowager lady Chia said, "I'll give you a +whole porcelain jar full of them; so you may as well eat these first, +while they are hot!" + +The rest of the inmates selected such of the fruits as took their fancy, +but after they had helped themselves to one or two, they felt satisfied. +Goody Liu, however, had never before touched such delicacies. These +were, in addition, made small, dainty, and without the least semblance +of clumsiness, so when she and Pan Erh had served themselves to a few of +each sort, half the contents of the dish vanished. But what remained of +them were then, at the instance of lady Feng, put into two plates, and +sent, together with a partition-box, to Wen Kuan and the other singing +girls as their share. + +At an unexpected moment, they perceived the nurse come in with Ta +Chieh-erh in her arms, and they all induced her to have a romp with them +for a time. But while Ta Chieh-erh was holding a large pumelo and +amusing herself with it, she casually caught sight of Pan Erh with a +'Buddha's hand.' Ta Chieh would have it. A servant-girl endeavoured to +coax (Pan-Erh) to surrender it to her, but Ta Chieh-erh, unable to curb +her impatience, burst out crying. It was only after the pumelo had been +given to Pan-Erh, and that the 'Buddha's hand' had, by dint of much +humouring, been got from Pan Erh and given to her, that she stopped +crying. + +Pan Erh had played quite long enough with the 'Buddha's hand,' and had, +at the moment, his two hands laden with fruits, which he was in the +course of eating. When he suddenly besides saw how scented and round the +pumelo was, the idea dawned on him that it was more handy for play, and, +using it as a ball, he kicked it along and went off to have some fun, +relinquishing at once every thought of the 'Buddha's hand.' + +By this time dowager lady Chia and the other members had had tea, so +leading off again goody Liu, they threaded their way to the Lung Ts'ui +monastery. Miao Yue hastened to usher them in. On their arrival in the +interior of the court, they saw the flowers and trees in luxuriant +blossom. + +"Really," smiled old lady Chia, "it's those people, who devote +themselves to an ascetic life and have nothing to do, who manage, by +constant repairs, to make their places much nicer than those of others!" + +As she spoke, she wended her steps towards the Eastern hall. Miao Yue, +with a face beaming with smiles, made way for her to walk in. "We've +just been filling ourselves with wines and meats," dowager lady Chia +observed, "and with the josses you've got in here, we shall be guilty of +profanity. We'd better therefore sit here! But give us some of that good +tea of yours; and we'll get off so soon as we have had a cup of it." + +Pao-yue watched Miao Yue's movements intently, when he noticed her lay +hold of a small tea-tray, fashioned in the shape of a peony, made of red +carved lacquer, and inlaid with designs in gold representing a dragon +ensconced in the clouds with the character 'longevity' clasped in its +jaws, a tray, which contained a small multicoloured cup with cover, +fabricated at the 'Ch'eng' Kiln, and present it to his grandmother. + +"I don't care for 'Liu An' tea!" old lady Chia exclaimed. + +"I know it; but this is old 'Chuen Mei,'" Miao Yue answered with a smile. + +Dowager lady Chia received the cup. "What water is this?" she went on to +inquire. + +"It's rain water collected last year;" Miao Yue added by way of reply. + +Old lady Chia readily drank half a cup of the tea; and smiling, she +proffered it to goody Liu. "Just you taste this tea!" she said. + +Goody Liu drained the remainder with one draught. "It's good, of +course," she remarked laughingly, "but it's rather weak! It would be far +better were it brewed a little stronger!" + +Dowager lady Chia and all the inmates laughed. But subsequently, each of +them was handed a thin, pure white covered cup, all of the same make, +originating from the 'Kuan' kiln. Miao Yue, however, soon gave a tug at +Pao-ch'ai's and Tai-yue's lapels, and both quitted the apartment along +with her. But Pao-yue too quietly followed at their heels. Spying Miao Yue +show his two cousins into a side-room, Pao-ch'ai take a seat in the +court, Tai-yue seat herself on Miao Yue's rush mat, and Miao Yue herself +approach a stove, fan the fire and boil some water, with which she +brewed another pot of tea, Pao-yue walked in. "Are you bent upon drinking +your own private tea?" he smiled. + +"Here you rush again to steal our tea," the two girls laughed with one +accord. "There's none for you!" + +But just as Miao Yue was going to fetch a cup, she perceived an old +taoist matron bring away the tea things, which had been used in the +upper rooms. "Don't put that 'Ch'eng' kiln tea-cup by!" Miao Yue hastily +shouted. "Go and put it outside!" + +Pao-yue understood that it must be because old goody Liu had drunk out of +it that she considered it too dirty to keep. He then saw Miao Yue produce +two other cups. The one had an ear on the side. On the bowl itself were +engraved in three characters: 'calabash cup,' in the plain 'square' +writing. After these, followed a row of small characters in the 'true' +style, to the effect that the cup had been an article much treasured by +Wang K'ai. Next came a second row of small characters stating: 'that in +the course of the fourth moon of the fifth year of Yuan Feng, of the +Sung dynasty, Su Shih of Mei Shan had seen it in the 'Secret' palace. + +This cup, Miao Yue filled, and handed to Pao-ch'ai. + +The other cup was, in appearance, as clumsy as it was small; yet on it +figured an engraved inscription, consisting of 'spotted rhinoceros cup,' +in three 'seal' characters, which bore the semblance of pendent pearls. +Miao Yue replenished this cup and gave it to Tai-yue; and taking the green +jade cup, which she had, on previous occasions, often used for her own +tea, she filled it and presented it to Pao-yue. + +"'The rules observed in the world,' the adage says, 'must be +impartial,'" Pao-yue smiled. "But while my two cousins are handling those +antique and rare gems, here am I with this coarse object!" + +"Is this a coarse thing?" Miao Yue exclaimed. "Why, I'm making no +outrageous statement when I say that I'm inclined to think that it is by +no means certain that you could lay your hand upon any such coarse thing +as this in your home!" + +"'Do in the country as country people do,' the proverb says," Pao-yue +laughingly rejoined. "So when one gets in a place like this of yours, +one must naturally look down upon every thing in the way of gold, +pearls, jade and precious stones, as coarse rubbish!" + +This sentiment highly delighted Miao Yue. So much so, that producing +another capacious cup, carved out of a whole bamboo root, which with its +nine curves and ten rings, with twenty knots in each ring, resembled a +coiled dragon, "Here," she said with a face beaming with smiles, "there +only remains this one! Can you manage this large cup?" + +"I can!" Pao-yue vehemently replied, with high glee. + +"Albeit you have the stomach to tackle all it holds," Miao Yue laughed, +"I haven't got so much tea for you to waste! Have you not heard how that +the first cup is the 'taste'-cup; the second 'the stupid-thing-for- +quenching-one's-thirst,' and the third 'the drink-mule' cup? But were +you now to go in for this huge cup, why what more wouldn't that be?" + +At these words, Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yue and Pao-yue simultaneously indulged in +laughter. But Miao-yue seized the teapot, and poured well-nigh a whole +cupful of tea into the big cup. Pao-yue tasted some carefully, and found +it, in real truth, so exceptionally soft and pure that he extolled it +with incessant praise. + +"If you've had any tea this time," Miao-Yue pursued with a serious +expression about her face, "it's thanks to these two young ladies; for +had you come alone, I wouldn't have given you any." + +"I'm well aware of this," Pao-yue laughingly rejoined, "so I too will +receive no favour from your hands, but simply express my thanks to these +two cousins of mine, and have done!" + +"What you say makes your meaning clear enough!" Miao-yue said, when she +heard his reply. + +"Is this rain water from last year?" Tai-yue then inquired. + +"How is it," smiled Miao Yue sardonically, "that a person like you can be +such a boor as not to be able to discriminate water, when you taste it? +This is snow collected from the plum blossom, five years back, when I +was in the P'an Hsiang temple at Hsuean Mu. All I got was that flower +jar, green as the devil's face, full, and as I couldn't make up my mind +to part with it and drink it, I interred it in the ground, and only +opened it this summer. I've had some of it once before, and this is the +second time. But how is it you didn't detect it, when you put it to your +lips? Has rain water, obtained a year back, ever got such a soft and +pure flavour? and how possibly could it be drunk at all?" + +Tai-yue knew perfectly what a curious disposition she naturally had, and +she did not think it advisable to start any lengthy discussion with her. +Nor did she feel justified to protract her stay, so after sipping her +tea, she intimated to Pao-ch'ai her intention to go, and they quitted +the apartment. + +Pao-yue gave a forced smile to Miao Yue. "That cup," he said, "is, of +course, dirty; but is it not a pity to put it away for no valid reason? +To my idea it would be preferable, wouldn't it? to give it to that poor +old woman; for were she to sell it, she could have the means of +subsistence! What do you say, will it do?" + +Miao Yue listened to his suggestion, and then nodded her head, after some +reflection. "Yes, that will be all right!" she answered. "Lucky for her +I've never drunk a drop out of that cup, for had I, I would rather have +smashed it to atoms than have let her have it! If you want to give it to +her, I don't mind a bit about it; but you yourself must hand it to her! +Now, be quick and clear it away at once!" + +"Of course; quite so!" Pao-yue continued. "How could you ever go and +speak to her? Things would then come to a worse pass. You too would be +contaminated! If you give it to me, it will be all right." + +Miao Yue there and then directed some one to fetch it and to give it to +Pao-yue. When it was brought, Pao-yue took charge of it. "Wait until we've +gone out," he proceeded, "and I'll call a few servant-boys and bid them +carry several buckets of water from the stream and wash the floors; eh, +shall I?" + +"Yes, that would be better!" Miao Yue smiled. "The only thing is that you +must tell them to bring the water, and place it outside the entrance +door by the foot of the wall; for they mustn't come in." + +"This goes without saying!" Pao-yue said; and, while replying, he +produced the cup from inside his sleeve, and handed it to a young +waiting-maid from dowager lady Chia's apartments to hold. "To-morrow," +he told her, "give this to goody Liu to take with her, when she starts +on her way homewards!" + +By the time he made (the girl) understand the charge he entrusted her +with, his old grandmother issued out and was anxious to return home. +Miao Yue did not exert herself very much to induce her to prolong her +visit; but seeing her as far the main gate, she turned round and bolted +the doors. But without devoting any further attention to her, we will +now allude to dowager lady Chia. + +She felt thoroughly tired and exhausted. To such a degree, that she +desired Madame Wang, Ying Ch'un and her sisters to see that Mrs. Hsueeh +had some wine, while she herself retired to the Tao Hsiang village to +rest. Lady Feng immediately bade some servants fetch a bamboo chair. On +its arrival, dowager lady Chia seated herself in it, and two matrons +carried her off hemmed in by lady Feng, Li Wan and a bevy of +servant-girls, and matrons. But let us now leave her to herself, without +any additional explanations. + +During this while, Mrs. Hsueeh too said good bye and departed. Madame +Wang then dismissed Wen Kuan and the other girls, and, distributing the +eatables, that had been collected in the partition-boxes, to the +servant-maids to go and feast on, she availed herself of the leisure +moments to lie off; so reclining as she was, on the couch, which had +been occupied by her old relative a few minutes back, she bade a young +maid lower the portiere; after which, she asked her to massage her legs. + +"Should our old lady yonder send any message, mind you call me at once," +she proceeded to impress on her mind, and, laying herself down, she went +to sleep. + +Pao-yue, Hsiang-yuen and the rest watched the servant-girls take the +partition-boxes and place them among the rocks, and seat themselves some +on boulders, others on the turf-covered ground, some lean against the +trees, others squat down besides the pool, and thoroughly enjoy +themselves. But in a little time, they also perceived Yuean Yang arrive. +Her object in coming was to carry off goody Liu for a stroll, so in a +body they followed in their track, with a view of deriving some fun. +Shortly, they got under the honorary gateway put up in the additional +grounds, reserved for the imperial consort's visits to her parents, and +old goody Liu shouted aloud: "Ai-yoh! What! Is there another big temple +here!" + +While speaking, she prostrated herself and knocked her head, to the +intense amusement of the company, who were quite doubled up with +laughter. + +"What are you laughing at?" goody Liu inquired. "I can decipher the +characters on this honorary gateway. Over at our place temples of this +kind are exceedingly plentiful; and they've all got archways like this! +These characters give the name of the temple." + +"Can you make out from those characters what temple this is?" they +laughingly asked. + +Goody Liu quickly raised her head, and, pointing at the inscription, +"Are'nt these," she said, "the four characters 'Pearly Emperor's +Precious Hall?'" + +Everybody laughed. They clapped their hands and applauded. But when +about to chaff her again, goody Liu experienced a rumbling noise in her +stomach, and vehemently pulling a young servant-girl, and asking her for +a couple of sheets of paper, she began immediately to loosen her +garments. "It won't do in here!" one and all laughingly shouted out to +her, and quickly they directed a matron to lead her away. When they got +at the north-east corner, the matron pointed the proper place out to +her, and in high spirits she walked off and went to have some rest. + +Goody Liu had taken plenty of wine; she could not too touch yellow wine; +she had, what is more, drunk and eaten so many fat things that in the +thirst, which supervened, she had emptied several cups of tea; the +result was that she unavoidably got looseness of the bowels. She +therefore squatted for ever so long before she felt any relief. But on +her exit from the private chamber, the wind blew the wine to her head. +Besides, being a woman well up in years, she felt, upon suddenly rising +from a long squatting position, her eyes grow so dim and her head so +giddy that she could not make out the way. She gazed on all four +quarters, but the whole place being covered with trees, rockeries, +towers, terraces, and houses, she was quite at a loss how to determine +her whereabouts, and where each road led to. She had no alternative but +to follow a stone road, and to toddle on her way with leisurely step. +But when she drew near a building, she could not make out where the door +could be. After searching and searching, she accidentally caught sight +of a bamboo fence. "Here's another trellis with flat bean plants +creeping on it!" Goody Liu communed within herself. While giving way to +reflection, she skirted the flower-laden hedge, and discovering a +moonlike, cavelike, entrance, she stepped in. Here she discerned, +stretching before her eyes a sheet of water, forming a pond, which +measured no more than seven or eight feet in breadth. Its banks were +paved with slabs of stone. Its jadelike waves flowed in a limpid stream +towards the opposite direction. At the upper end, figured a slab of +white marble, laid horizontally over the surface. Goody Liu wended her +steps over the slab and followed the raised stone-road; then turning two +bends, in the lake, an entrance into a house struck her gaze. Forthwith, +she crossed the doorway, but her eyes were soon attracted by a young +girl, who advanced to greet her with a smile playing upon her lips. + +"The young ladies," goody Liu speedily remarked laughing, "have cast me +adrift; they made me knock about, until I found my way in here." + +But seeing, after addressing her, that the girl said nothing by way of +reply, goody Liu approached her and seized her by the hand, when, with a +crash, she fell against the wooden partition wall and bumped her head so +that it felt quite sore. Upon close examination, she discovered that it +was a picture. "Do pictures really so bulge out!" Goody Liu mused within +herself, and, as she exercised her mind with these cogitations, she +scanned it and rubbed her hand over it. It was perfectly even all over. +She nodded her head, and heaved a couple of sighs. But the moment she +turned round, she espied a small door over which hung a soft portiere, +of leek-green colour, bestrewn with embroidered flowers. Goody Liu +lifted the portiere and walked in. Upon raising her head, and casting a +glance round, she saw the walls, artistically carved in fretwork. On all +four sides, lutes, double-edged swords, vases and censers were stuck +everywhere over the walls; and embroidered covers and gauze nets, +glistened as brightly as gold, and shed a lustre vying with that of +pearls. Even the bricks, on the ground, on which she trod, were jadelike +green, inlaid with designs, so that her eyes got more and more dazzled. +She tried to discover an exit, but where could she find a doorway? On +the left, was a bookcase. On the right, a screen. As soon as she +repaired behind the screen, she faced a door; but, she then caught sight +of another old dame stepping in from outside, and advancing towards her. +Goody Liu was wonderstruck. Her mind was full of uncertainty as to +whether it might not be her son-in-law's mother. "I expect," she felt +prompted to ask with vehemence, "you went to the trouble of coming to +hunt for me, as you didn't see me turn up at home for several days, eh? +But what young lady introduced you in here?" Then noticing that her +whole head was bedecked with flowers, old goody Liu laughed. "How +ignorant of the ways of the world you are!" she said. "Seeing the nice +flowers in this garden, you at once set to work, forgetful of all +consequences, and loaded your pate with them!" + +However, while she derided her, the other old dame simply laughed, +without making any rejoinder. But the recollection suddenly flashed to +her memory that she had often heard of some kind of cheval-glasses, +found in wealthy and well-to-do families, and, "May it not be," (she +wondered), "my own self reflected in this glass!" After concluding this +train of thoughts, she put out her hands, and feeling it and then +minutely scrutinising it, she realised that the four wooden partition +walls were made of carved blackwood, into which mirrors had been +inserted. "These have so far impeded my progress," she consequently +exclaimed, "and how am I to manage to get out?" + +As she soliloquised, she kept on rubbing the mirror. This mirror was, in +fact, provided with some western mechanism, which enabled it to open and +shut, so while goody Liu inadvertently passed her hands, quite at random +over its surface, the pressure happily fell on the right spot, and +opening the contrivance, the mirror flung round, exposing a door to +view. Old goody Liu was full of amazement as well as of admiration. With +hasty step, she egressed. Her eyes unexpectedly fell on a most handsome +set of bed-curtains. But being at the time still seven or eight tenths +in the wind, and quite tired out from her tramp, she with one jump +squatted down on the bed, saying to herself: "I'll just have a little +rest." So little, however, did she, contrary to her expectations, have +any control over herself, that, as she reeled backwards and forwards, +her eyes got quite drowsy, and then the moment she threw herself in a +recumbent position, she dropped into a sound sleep. + +But let us now see what the others were up to. They waited for her and +waited; but they saw nothing of her. Pan Erh got, in the absence of his +grandmother, so distressed that he melted into tears. "May she not have +fallen into the place?" one and all laughingly observed. "Be quick and +tell some one to go and have a look!" + +Two matrons were directed to go in search of her; but they returned and +reported that she was not to be found. The whole party instituted a +search in every nook and corner, but nothing could be seen of her. + +"She was so drunk," Hsi Jen suggested, "that she's sure to have lost her +way, and following this road, got into our back-rooms. Should she have +crossed to the inner side of the hedge, she must have come to the door +of the backhouse and got in. Nevertheless, the young maids, she must +have come across, must know something about her. If she did not get +inside the hedge, but continued in a south westerly direction, she's all +right, if she made a detour and walked out. But if she hasn't done so, +why, she'll have enough of roaming for a good long while! I had better +therefore go and see what she's up to." + +With these words still on her lips, she retraced her footsteps and +repaired into the I Hung court. She called out to the servants, but, who +would have thought it, the whole bevy of young maids, attached to those +rooms, had seized the opportunity to go and have a romp, so Hsi Jen +straightway entered the door of the house. As soon as she turned the +multicoloured embroidered screen, the sound of snoring as loud as peals +of thunder, fell on her ear. Hastily she betook herself inside, but her +nostrils were overpowered by the foul air of wine and w..d, which +infected the apartment. At a glance, she discovered old goody Liu lying +on the bed, face downwards, with hands sprawled out and feet knocking +about all over the place. Hsi Jen sustained no small shock. With +precipitate hurry, she rushed up to her, and, laying hold of her, lying +as she was more dead than alive, she pushed her about until she +succeeded in rousing her to her senses. Old goody Liu was startled out +of her sleep. She opened wide her eyes, and, realising that Hsi Jen +stood before her, she speedily crawled up. "Miss!" she pleaded. "I do +deserve death! I have done what I shouldn't; but I haven't in any way +soiled the bed." + +So saying, she swept her hands over it. But Hsi Jen was in fear and +trembling lest the suspicions of any inmate should be aroused, and lest +Pao-yue should come to know of it, so all she did was to wave her hand +towards her, bidding her not utter a word. Then with alacrity grasping +three or four handfuls of 'Pai Ho' incense, she heaped it on the large +tripod, which stood in the centre of the room, and put the lid back +again; delighted at the idea that she had not been so upset as to be +sick. + +"It doesn't matter!" she quickly rejoined in a low tone of voice with a +smile, "I'm here to answer for this. Come along with me!" + +While old goody Liu expressed her readiness to comply with her wishes, +she followed Hsi Jen out into the quarters occupied by the young maids. +Here (Hsi Jen) desired her to take a seat. "Mind you say," she enjoined +her, "that you were so drunk that you stretched on a boulder and had a +snooze!" + +"All right! I will!" old goody Liu promised. + +Hsi Jen afterwards helped her to two cups of tea, when she, at length, +got over the effects of the wine. "What young lady's room is this that +it is so beautiful?" she then inquired. "It seemed to me just as if I +had gone to the very heavenly palace." + +Hsi Jen gave a faint smile. "This one?" she asked. "Why, it's our master +Secundus', Mr. Pao's bedroom." + +Old goody Liu was quite taken aback, and could not even presume to utter +a sound. But Hsi Jen led her out across the front compound; and, when +they met the inmates of the family, she simply explained to them that +she had found her fast asleep on the grass, and brought her along. No +one paid any heed to the excuse she gave, and the subject was dropped. + +Presently, dowager lady Chia awoke, and the evening meal was at once +served in the Tao Hsiang Ts'un. Dowager lady Chia was however quite +listless, and felt so little inclined to eat anything that she forthwith +got into a small open chair, with bamboo seat, and returned to her suite +of rooms to rest. But she insisted that lady Feng and her companions +should go and have their repast, so the young ladies eventually +adjourned once more into the garden. + +But, reader, you do not know the sequel, so peruse the circumstances +given in detail in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + The Princess of Heng Wu dispels, with sweet words, some insane + suspicions. + The inmate of Hsiao Hsiang puts, with excellent repartee, the final + touch to the jokes made about goody Liu. + + +We will now resume our story by adding that, on the return of the young +ladies into the garden, they had their meal. This over, they parted +company, and nothing more need be said about them. We will notice, +however, that old goody Liu took Pan Erh along with her, and came first +and paid a visit to lady Feng. "We must certainly start for home +to-morrow, as soon as it is daylight," she said. "I've stayed here, it's +true, only two or three days, but in these few days I have reaped +experience in everything that I had not seen from old till now. It would +be difficult to find any one as compassionate of the poor and +considerate to the old as your venerable dame, your Madame Wang, your +young ladies, and the girls too attached to the various rooms, have all +shown themselves in their treatment of me! When I get home now, I shall +have no other means of showing how grateful I am to you than by +purchasing a lot of huge joss-sticks and saying daily prayers to Buddha +on your behalf; and if he spares you all to enjoy a long life of a +hundred years my wishes will be accomplished." + +"Don't be so exultant!" lady Feng smilingly replied. "It's all on +account of you that our old ancestor has fallen ill, by exposing herself +to draughts and that she suffers from disturbed sleep; also that our Ta +Chieh-erh has caught a chill and is laid up at home with fever." + +Goody Liu, at these words, speedily heaved a sigh. "Her venerable +ladyship," she said, "is a person advanced in years and not accustomed +to any intense fatigue!" + +"She has never before been in such high spirits as yesterday!" lady Feng +observed. "As you were here, so anxious was she to let you see +everything, that she trudged over the greater part of the garden. And Ta +Chieh-erh was given a piece of cake by Madame Wang, when I came to hunt +you up, and she ate it, who knows in what windy place, and began at once +to get feverish." + +"Ta Chieh-erh," goody Liu remarked, "hasn't, I fancy, often put her foot +into the garden; and young people like her mustn't really go into +strange places, for she's not like our children, who are able to use +their legs! In what graveyards don't they ramble about! A puff of wind +may, on the one hand, have struck her, it's not at all unlikely; or +being, on the other, so chaste in body, and her eyes also so pure she +may, it is to be feared, have come across some spirit or other. I can't +help thinking therefore that you should consult some book of exorcisms +on her behalf; for mind she may have run up against some evil +influence." + +This remark suggested the idea to lady Feng. There and then she called +P'ing Erh to fetch the 'Jade Box Record.' When brought, she desired +Ts'ai Ming to look over it for her. Ts'ai Ming turned over the pages for +a time, and then read: 'Those who fall ill on the 25th day of the 8th +moon have come across, in a due westerly quarter, of some flower spirit; +they feel heavy, with no inclination for drink or food. Take seven +sheets of white paper money, and, advancing forty steps due west, burn +them and exorcise the spirit; recovery will follow at once!'" + +"There's really no mistake about that!" lady Feng smiled. "Are there not +flower spirits in the garden? But what I dread is that our old lady +mayn't have come across one too." + +Saying this, she bade a servant purchase two lots of paper money. On +their arrival, she sent for two proper persons, the one to exorcise the +spirits for dowager lady Chia and the other to expel them from Ta +Chieh-erh; and these observances over, Ta Chieh-erh did, in effect, drop +quietly to sleep. + +"It's verily people advanced in years like you," lady Feng smilingly +exclaimed; "who've gone through many experiences! This Ta Chieh-erh of +mine has often been inclined to ail, and it has quite puzzled me to make +out how and why it was." + +"This isn't anything out of the way!" goody Liu said. "Affluent and +honourable people bring up their offspring to be delicate. So naturally, +they are not able to endure the least hardship! Moreover, that young +child of yours is so excessively cuddled that she can't stand it. Were +you, therefore, my lady, to pamper her less from henceforth, she'll +steadily improve." + +"There's plenty of reason in that too!" lady Feng observed. "But it +strikes me that she hasn't as yet got a name, so do give her one in +order that she may borrow your long life! In the next place, you are +country-people, and are, after all,--I don't expect you'll get angry +when I mention it,--somewhat in poor circumstances. Were a person then +as poor as you are to suggest a name for her, you may, I trust, have the +effect of counteracting this influence for her." + +When old goody Liu heard this proposal, she immediately gave herself up +to reflection. "I've no idea of the date of her birth!" she smiled after +a time. + +"She really was born on no propitious date!" lady Feng replied. "By a +remarkable coincidence she came into the world on the seventh day of the +seventh moon!" + +"This is certainly splendid!" old goody Lin laughed with alacrity. "You +had better name her at once Ch'iao Chieh-erh (seventh moon and +ingenuity). This is what's generally called: combating poison by poison +and attacking fire by fire. If therefore your ladyship fixes upon this +name of mine, she will, for a surety, attain a long life of a hundred +years; and when she by and bye grows up to be a big girl, every one of +you will be able to have a home and get a patrimony! Or if, at any time, +there occur anything inauspicious and she has to face adversity, why it +will inevitably change into prosperity; and if she comes across any evil +fortune, it will turn into good fortune. And this will all arise from +this one word, 'Ch'iao' (ingenuity.)" + +Lady Feng was, needless to say, delighted by what she heard, and she +lost no time in expressing her gratitude. "If she be preserved," she +exclaimed, "to accomplish your good wishes, it will be such a good +thing!" Saying this, she called P'ing Erh. "As you and I are bound to be +busy to-morrow," she said, "and won't, I fear, be able to spare any +leisure moments, you'd better, if you have nothing to do now, get ready +the presents for old goody Liu, so as to enable her to conveniently +start at early dawn to-morrow." + +"How could I presume to be the cause of such reckless waste?" goody Liu +interposed. "I've already disturbed your peace and quiet for several +days, and were I to also take your things away, I'd feel still less at +ease in my heart!" + +"There's nothing much!" lady Feng protested. "They consist simply of a +few ordinary things. But, whether good or bad, do take them along, so +that the people in the same street as yourselves and your next-door +neighbours may have some little excitement, and that it may look as if +you had been on a visit to the city!" + +But while she endeavoured to induce the old dame to accept the presents, +she noticed P'ing Erh approach. "Goody Liu," she remarked, "come over +here and see!" + +Old goody Liu precipitately followed P'ing Erh into the room on the off +side. Here she saw the stove-couch half full with piles of things. P'ing +Erh took these up one by one and let her have a look at them. "This," +she explained, "is a roll of that green gauze you asked for yesterday. +Besides this, our lady Feng gives you a piece of thick bluish-white +gauze to use as lining. These are two pieces of pongee, which will do +for wadded coats and jupes as well. In this bundle are two pieces of +silk, for you to make clothes with, for the end of the year. This is a +box containing various home-made cakes. Among them are some you've +already tasted and some you haven't; so take them along, and put them in +plates and invite your friends; they'll be ever so much better than any +that you could buy! These two bags are those in which the melons and +fruit were packed up yesterday. This one has been filled with two +bushels of fine rice, grown in the imperial fields, the like of which +for congee, it would not be easy to get. This one contains fruits from +our garden and all kinds of dry fruits. In this packet, you'll find +eight taels of silver. These various things are presents for you from +our Mistress Secunda. Each of these packets contains fifty taels so that +there are in all a hundred taels; they're the gift of Madame Wang. She +bids you accept them so as to either carry on any trade, for which no +big capital is required, or to purchase several acres of land, in order +that you mayn't henceforward have any more to beg favours of relatives, +or to depend upon friends." Continuing, she added smilingly, in a low +tone of voice, "These two jackets, two jupes, four head bands, and a +bundle of velvet and thread are what I give you, worthy dame, as my +share. These clothes are, it is true, the worse for use, yet I haven't +worn them very much. But if you disdain them, I won't be so presuming as +to say anything." + +After mention of each article by P'ing Erh, goody Liu muttered the name +of Buddha, so already she had repeated Buddha's name several thousands +of times. But when she saw the heap of presents which P'ing Erh too +bestowed on her, and the little ostentation with which she did it, she +promptly smiled. "Miss!" she said, "what are you saying? Could I ever +disdain such nice gifts as these! Had I even the money, I couldn't buy +them anywhere. The only thing is that I feel overpowered with shame. If +I keep them, it won't be nice, and if I don't accept them, I shall be +showing myself ungrateful for your kind attention." + +"Don't utter all this irrelevant talk!" P'ing Erh laughed. "You and I +are friends; so compose your mind and take the things I gave you just +now! Besides, I have, on my part, something to ask of you. When the +close of the year comes, select a few of your cabbages, dipped in lime, +and dried in the sun, as well as some lentils, flat beans, tomatoes and +pumpkin strips, and various sorts of dry vegetables and bring them over. +We're all, both high or low, fond of such things. These will be quite +enough! We don't want anything else, so don't go to any useless +trouble!" + +Goody Liu gave utterance to profuse expressions of gratitude and +signified her readiness to comply with her wishes. + +"Just you go to sleep," P'ing Erh urged, "and I'll get the things ready +for you and put them in here. As soon as the day breaks to-morrow, I'll +send the servant-lads to hire a cart and pack them in; don't you +therefore worry yourself in the least on that score!" + +Goody Liu felt more and more ineffably grateful. So crossing over, she +again said, with warm protestations of thankfulness, good bye to lady +Feng; after which, she repaired to dowager lady Chia's quarters on this +side, where she slept, with one sleep, during the whole night. Early the +next day, as soon as she had combed her hair and performed her +ablutions, she asked to go and pay her adieus to lady Chia. But as old +lady Chia was unwell, the various members of the family came to see how +she was getting on. On their reappearance outside, they transmitted +orders that the doctor should be sent for. In a little time, a matron +reported that the doctor had arrived, and an old nurse invited dowager +lady Chia to ensconce herself under the curtain. + +"I'm an old woman!" lady Chia remonstrated. "Am I not aged enough to be +a mother to that fellow? and am I, pray, to still stand on any +ceremonies with him? There's no need to drop the curtain; I'll see him +as I am, and have done." + +Hearing her objections, the matrons fetched a small table, and, laying a +small pillow on it, they directed a servant to ask the doctor in. + +Presently, they perceived the trio Chia Chen, Chia Lien, and Chia Jung, +bringing Dr. Wang. Dr. Wang did not presume to use the raised road, but +confining himself to the side steps, he kept pace with Chia Chen until +they reached the platform. Two matrons, who had been standing, one on +either side from an early hour, raised the portiere. A couple of old +women servants then took the lead and showed the way in. But Pao-yue too +appeared on the scene to meet them. + +They found old lady Chia seated bolt upright on the couch, dressed in a +blue crape jacket, lined with sheep skin, every curl of which resembled +a pearl. On the right and left stood four young maids, whose hair had +not as yet been allowed to grow, with fly-brushes, finger-bowls, and +other such articles in their hands. Five or six old nurses were also +drawn up on both sides like wings. At the back of the jade-green gauze +mosquito-house were faintly visible several persons in red and green +habiliments, with gems on their heads, and gold trinkets in their +coiffures. + +Dr. Wang could not muster the courage to raise his head. With speedy +step, he advanced and paid his obeisance. Dowager lady Chia noticed that +he wore the official dress of the sixth grade, and she accordingly +concluded that he must be an imperial physician. "How are you noble +doctor?" she inquired, forcing a smile. "What is the worthy surname of +this noble doctor?" she then asked Chia Chen. + +Chia Chen and his companions made prompt reply. "His surname is Wang," +they said. + +"There was once a certain Wang Chuen-hsiao who filled the chair of +President of the College of Imperial Physicians," dowager lady smilingly +proceeded. "He excelled in feeling the pulse." + +Dr. Wang bent his body, and with alacrity he lowered his head and +returned her smile. "That was," he explained, "my grand uncle." + +"Is it really so!" laughingly pursued dowager lady Chia, upon catching +this reply. "We can then call ourselves old friends!" + +So speaking, she quietly put out her hand and rested it on the small +pillow. A nurse laid hold of a small stool and placed it before the +small table, slightly to the side of it. Dr. Wang bent one knee and took +a seat on the stool. Drooping his head, he felt the pulse of the one +hand for a long while; next, he examined that of the other; after which, +hastily making a curtsey, he bent his head and started on his way out of +the apartment. + +"Excuse me for the trouble I've put you to!" dowager lady Chia smiled. +"Chen Erh, escort him outside, and do see that he has a cup of tea." + +Chia Chen, Chia Lien and the rest of their companions immediately +acquiesced by uttering several yes's, and once more they led Dr. Wang +into the outer study. + +"Your worthy senior," Dr. Wang explained, "has nothing else the matter +with her than a slight chill, which she must have inadvertently +contracted. She needn't, after all, take any medicines; all she need do +is to diet herself and keep warm a little; and she'll get all right. But +I'll now write a prescription, in here. Should her venerable ladyship +care to take any of the medicine, then prepare a dose, according to the +prescription, and let her have it. But should she be loth to have any, +well, never mind, it won't be of any consequence." + +Saying this, he wrote the prescription, as he sipped his tea. But when +about to take his leave, he saw a nurse bring Ta Chieh-erh into the +room. "Mr. Wang," she said, "do also have a look at our Chieh Erh!" + +Upon hearing her appeal, Dr. Wang immediately rose to his feet. While +she was clasped in her nurse's arms, he rested Ta Chieh-erh's hand on +his left hand and felt her pulse with his right, and rubbing her +forehead, he asked her to put out her tongue and let him see it. "Were I +to express my views about Chieh Erh, you would again abuse me! If she's, +however, kept quiet and allowed to go hungry for a couple of meals, +she'll get over this. There's no necessity for her to take any decocted +medicines. I'll just send her some pills, which you'll have to dissolve +in a preparation of ginger, and give them to her before she goes to +sleep; when she has had these, there will be nothing more the matter +with her." + +At the conclusion of these recommendations, he bade them goodbye and +took his departure. Chia Chen and his companions then took the +prescription and came and explained to old lady Chia the nature of her +indisposition, and, depositing on the table, the paper given to them by +the doctor, they quitted her presence. But nothing more need be said +about them. + +Madame Wang and Li Wan, lady Feng, Pao Ch'ai and the other young ladies +noticed, meanwhile, that the doctor had gone, and they eventually +egressed from the back of the mosquito-house. After a short stay, Madame +Wang returned to her quarters. Goody Liu repaired, when she perceived +everything quiet again, into the upper rooms and made her adieus to +dowager lady Chia. + +"When you've got any leisure, do pay us another visit," old lady Chia +urged, and bidding Yuan Yang come to her, "Do be careful," she added, +"and see dame Liu safely on her way out; for not being well I can't +escort you myself." + +Goody Liu expressed her thanks, and saying good bye a second time, she +betook herself, along with Yuean Yang, into the servants' quarters. Here +Yuean Yang pointed at a bundle on the stove-couch. "These are," she said, +"several articles of clothing, belonging to our old mistress; they were +presented to her in years gone by, by members of our family on her +birthdays and various festivals; her ladyship never wears anything made +by people outside; yet to hoard these would be a downright pity! Indeed, +she hasn't worn them even once. It was yesterday that she told me to get +out two costumes and hand them to you to take along with you, either to +give as presents, or to be worn by some one in your home; but don't make +fun of us! In the box you'll find the flour-fruits, for which you asked. +This bundle contains the medicines to which you alluded the other day. +There are 'plum-blossom-spotted-tongue pills,' and 'purple-gold- +ingot- pills,' also 'vivifying-blood-vessels-pills,' as well as +'driving-offspring and preserving-life pills;' each kind being rolled +up in a sheet bearing the prescription; and the whole lot of them are +packed up in here. While these two are purses for you to wear in the way +of ornaments." So saying, she forthwith loosened the cord, and, +producing two ingots representing pencils, and with 'ju i' on them, +implying 'your wishes will surely be fulfilled,' she drew near and +showed them to her, "Take the purses," she pursued smiling, "but do +leave these behind and give them to me." + +Goody Liu was so overjoyed that she had, from an early period, come out +afresh with several thousands of invocations of Buddha's names. When she +therefore heard Yuean Yang's suggestion, "Miss," she quickly rejoined, +"you're at perfect liberty to keep them!" + +Yuean Yang perceived that her words were believed by her; so smiling she +once more dropped the ingots into the purse. "I was only joking with you +for fun!" she observed. "I've got a good many like these; keep them +therefore and give them, at the close of the year, to your young +children." + +Speaking the while, she espied a young maid walk in with a cup from the +'Ch'eng' kiln, and hand it to old goody Liu. "This," (she said,) "our +master Secundus, Mr. Pao, gives you." + +"Whence could I begin enumerating the things I got!" Goody Liu +exclaimed. "In what previous existence did I accomplish anything so +meritorious as to bring to-day this heap of blessings upon me!" + +With these words, she eagerly took possession of the cup. + +"The clothes I gave you the other day, when I asked you to have a bath, +were my own," Yuean Yang resumed, "and if you don't think them too mean, +I've got a few more, which I would also like to let you have." + +Goody Liu thanked her with vehemence, so Yuean Yang, in point of fact, +produced several more articles of clothing, and these she packed up for +her. Goody Liu thereupon expressed a desire to also go into the garden +and take leave of Pao-yue and the young ladies, Madame Wang and the other +inmates and to thank them for all they did for her, but Yuean Yang raised +objections. "You can dispense with going!" she remarked. "They don't see +any one just now! But I'll deliver the message for you by and bye! When +you've got any leisure, do come again. Go to the second gate," she went +on to direct an old matron, "and call two servant-lads to come here, and +help this old dame to take her things away!" + +After the matron had signified her obedience, Yuean Yang returned with +goody Liu to lady Feng's quarters, on the off part of the mansion, and, +taking the presents as far as the side gate, she bade the servant-lads +carry them out. She herself then saw goody Liu into her curricle and +start on her journey homewards. + +But without commenting further on this topic, let us revert to Pao-ch'ai +and the other girls. After breakfast, they recrossed into their +grandmother's rooms and made inquiries about her health. On their way +back to the garden, they reached a point where they had to take +different roads. Pao-ch'ai then called out to Tai-yue. "P'in Erh!" she +observed, "come with me; I've got a question to ask you." + +Tai-yue wended her steps therefore with Pao-ch'ai into the Heng Wu court. +As soon as they entered the house, Pao-ch'ai threw herself into a seat. +"Kneel down!" she smiled. "I want to examine you about something!" + +Tai-yue could not fathom her object, and consequently laughed. "Look +here." she cried, "this chit Pao has gone clean off her senses! What do +you want to examine me about?" + +Pao-ch'ai gave a sardonic smile. "My dear, precious girl, my dear +maiden," she exclaimed, "what utter trash fills your mouth! Just speak +the honest and candid truth, and finish!" + +Tai-yue could so little guess her meaning that her sole resource was to +smile. Inwardly, however, she could not help beginning to experience +certain misgivings. "What did I say?" she remarked. "You're bent upon +picking out my faults! Speak out and let me hear what it's all about!" + +"Do you still pretend to be a fool?" Pao-ch'ai laughed. "When we played +yesterday that game of wine-forfeits, what did you say? I really +couldn't make out any head or tail." + +Tai-yue, after a moment's reflection, remembered eventually that she had +the previous day been guilty of a slip of the tongue and come out with a +couple of passages from the 'Peony Pavilion,' and the 'Record of the +West Side-house,' and, of a sudden, her face got scarlet with blushes. +Drawing near Pao-ch'ai she threw her arms round her. "My dear cousin!" +she smiled, "I really wasn't conscious of what I was saying! It just +blurted out of my mouth! But now that you've called me to task, I won't +say such things again." + +"I've no idea of what you were driving at," Pao-ch'ai laughingly +rejoined. "What I heard you recite sounds so thoroughly unfamiliar to +me, that I beg you to enlighten me!" + +"Dear cousin," pleaded Tai-yue, "don't tell anyone else! I won't, in the +future, breathe such things again." + +Pao-ch'ai noticed how from shame the blood rushed to her face, and how +vehement she was in her entreaties, and she felt both to press her with +questions; so pulling her into a seat to make her have a cup of tea, she +said to her in a gentle tone, "Whom do you take me for? I too am +wayward; from my youth up, yea ever since I was seven or eight, I've +been enough trouble to people! Our family was also what one would term +literary. My grandfather's extreme delight was to be ever with a book in +his hand. At one time, we numbered many members, and sisters and +brothers all lived together; but we had a distaste for wholesome books. +Among my brothers, some were partial to verses; others had a weakness +for blank poetical compositions; and there were none of such works as +the 'Western side-House,' and 'the Guitar,' even up to the hundred and +one books of the 'Yuean' authors, which they hadn't managed to get. These +books they stealthily read behind our backs; but we, on our part, +devoured them, on the sly, without their knowing it. Subsequently, our +father came to get wind of it; and some of us he beat, while others he +scolded; burning some of the books, and throwing away others. It is +therefore as well that we girls shouldn't know anything of letters. Men, +who study books and don't understand the right principle, can't, +moreover, reach the standard of those, who don't go in for books; so how +much more such as ourselves? Even versifying, writing and the like +pursuits aren't in the line of such as you and me. Indeed, neither are +they within the portion of men. Men, who go in for study and fathom the +right principles, should cooperate in the government of the empire, and +should rule the nation; this would be a nobler purpose; but one doesn't +now-a-days hear of the very existence of such persons! Hence, the study +of books makes them worse than they ever were before. But it isn't the +books that ruin them; the misfortune is that they make improper use of +books! That is why study doesn't come up to ploughing and sowing and +trading; as these pursuits exercise no serious pernicious influences. As +far, however, as you and I go, we should devote our minds simply to +matters connected with needlework and spinning; for we will then be +fulfilling our legitimate duties. Yet, it so happens that we too know a +few characters. But, as we can read, it behoves us to choose no other +than wholesome works; for these will do us no harm! What are most to be +shirked are those low books, as, when once they pervert the disposition, +there remains no remedy whatever!" + +While she indulged in this long rigmarole, Tai-yue lowered her head and +sipped her tea. And though she secretly shared the same views on the +subject, all the answer she gave her in assent was limited to one single +word 'yes.' But at an unexpected moment, Su Yuen appeared in the room. +"Our lady Lien," she said, "requests the presence of both of you, young +ladies, to consult with you in an important matter. Miss Secunda, Miss +Tertia, Miss Quarta, Miss Shih and Mr. Pao, our master Secundus, are +there waiting for you." + +"What's up again?" Pao-ch'ai inquired. + +"You and I will know what it is when we get there," Tai-yue explained. + +So saying, she came, with Pao-ch'ai, into the Tao Hsiang village. Here +they, in fact, discovered every one assembled. As soon as Li Wan caught +sight of the two cousins, she smiled. "The society has barely been +started," she observed, "and here's one who wants to give us the slip; +that girl Quarta wishes to apply for a whole year's leave." + +"It's that single remark of our worthy senior's yesterday that is at the +bottom of it!" Tai-yue laughed. "For by bidding her execute some painting +or other of the garden, she has put her in such high feather that she +applies for leave!" + +"Don't be so hard upon our dear ancestor!" Pao-Ch'ai rejoined, a smile +playing on her lips. "It's entirely due to that allusion of grandmother +Liu's." + +Tai-yue speedily took up the thread of the conversation. "Quite so!" she +smiled. "It's all through that remark of hers! But of what branch of the +family is she a grandmother? We should merely address her as the 'female +locust;' that's all." + +As she spoke, one and all were highly amused. + +"When any mortal language finds its way into that girl Feng's mouth," +Pao-ch'ai laughed, "she knows how to turn it to the best account! What a +fortunate thing it is that that vixen Feng has no idea of letters and +can't boast of much culture! Her _forte_ is simply such vulgar +things as suffice to raise a laugh! Worse than her is that P'in Erh with +that coarse tongue! She has recourse to the devices of the 'Ch'un +Ch'iu'! By selecting, from the vulgar expressions used in low slang, the +most noteworthy points, she eliminates what's commonplace, and makes, +with the addition of a little elegance and finish, her style so much +like that of the text that each sentence has a peculiar character of its +own! The three words representing 'female locust' bring out clearly the +various circumstances connected with yesterday! The wonder is that she +has been so quick in devising them!" + +After lending an ear to her arguments, they all laughed. "Those +explanations of yours," they cried, "show well enough that you are not +below those two!" + +"Pray, let's consult as to how many days' leave to grant her!" Li Wan +proposed. "I gave her a month, but she thinks it too little. What do you +say about it?" + +"Properly speaking," Tai-yue put in, "one year isn't much! The laying out +of this garden occupied a whole year; and to paint a picture of it now +will certainly need two years' time. She'll have to rub the ink, to +moisten the pencils, to stretch the paper, to mix the pigments, and +to...." + +When she had reached this point, even Tai-yue could not restrain herself +from laughing. "If she goes on so leisurely to work," she exclaimed, +"won't she require two years' time?" + +Those, who caught this insinuation, clapped their hands and indulged in +incessant merriment. + +"Her innuendoes are full of zest!" Pao-ch'ai ventured laughingly. "But +what takes the cake is that last remark about leisurely going to work, +for if she weren't to paint at all, how could she ever finish her task? +Hence those jokes cracked yesterday were, sufficient, of course, to +evoke laughter, but, on second thought, they're devoid of any fun! Just +you carefully ponder over P'in Erh's words! Albeit they don't amount to +much, you'll nevertheless find, when you come to reflect on them, that +there's plenty of gusto about them. I've really had such a laugh over +them that I can scarcely move! + +"It's the way that cousin Pao-ch'ai puffs her up," Hsi Ch'un observed +"that makes her so much the more arrogant that she turns me also into a +laughing-stock now!" + +Tai-yue hastily smiled and pulled her towards her. "Let me ask you," she +said, "are you only going to paint the garden, or will you insert us in +it as well?" + +"My original idea was to have simply painted the garden," Hsi Ch'un +explained; "but our worthy senior told me again yesterday that a mere +picture of the grounds would resemble the plan of a house, and +recommended that I should introduce some inmates too so as to make it +look like what a painting should. I've neither the knack for the fine +work necessary for towers and terraces, nor have I the skill to draw +representations of human beings; but as I couldn't very well raise any +objections, I find myself at present on the horns of a dilemma about +it!" + +"Human beings are an easy matter!" Tai-yue said. "What beats you are +insects." + +"Here you are again with your trash!" Li Wan exclaimed. "Will there be +any need to also introduce insects in it? As far, however, as birds go, +it may probably be advisable to introduce one or two kinds!" + +"If any other insects are not put in the picture," Tai-yue smiled, "it +won't matter; but without yesterday's female locust in it, it will fall +short of the original?" + +This retort evoked further general amusement. While Tai-yue laughed, she +beat her chest with both hands. "Begin painting at once!" she cried. +"I've even got the title all ready. The name I've chosen is, 'Picture of +a locust brought in to have a good feed.'" + +At these words, they laughed so much the more heartily that at a time +they bent forward, and at another they leant back. But a sound of "Ku +tung" then fell on their ears, and unable to make out what could have +dropped, they anxiously and precipitately looked about. It was, they +found, Shih Hsiang-yuen, who had been reclining on the back of the chair. +The chair had, from the very outset, not been put in a sure place, and +while indulging in hearty merriment she threw her whole weight on the +back. She did not, besides, notice that the dovetails on each side had +come out, so with a tilt towards the east, she as well as the chair +toppled over in a heap. Luckily, the wooden partition-wall was close +enough to arrest her fall, and she did not sprawl on the ground. The +sight of her created more amusement than ever among all her relatives; +so much so, that they could scarcely regain their equilibrium. It was +only after Pao-yue had rushed up to her, and given her a hand and raised +her to her feet again that they at last managed to gradually stop +laughing. + +Pao-yue then winked at Tai-yue. Tai-yue grasped his meaning, and, forthwith +withdrawing into the inner room, she lifted the cover of the mirror, and +looked at her face. She found the hair about her temples slightly +dishevelled, so, promptly opening Li Wan's toilet-case, and extracting a +narrow brush, she stood in front of the mirror, and smoothed it down +with a few touches. Afterwards, laying the brush in its place she +stepped into the outer suite. "Is this," she said pointing at Li Wan, +"doing what you're told and showing us how to do needlework and teaching +us manners? Why, instead of that, you press us to come here and have a +good romp and a hearty laugh!" + +"Just you listen to her perverse talk," Li Wan laughed. "She takes the +lead and kicks up a rumpus, and incites people to laugh, and then she +throws the blame upon me! In real truth, she's a despicable thing! What +I wish is that you should soon get some dreadful mother-in-law, and +several crotchety and abominable older and younger sisters-in-law, and +we'll see then whether you'll still be as perverse or not!" + +Tai-yue at once became quite scarlet in the face, and pulling Pao-ch'ai, +"Let us," she added, "give her a whole year's leave!" + +"I've got an impartial remark to make. Listen to me all of you!" +Pao-ch'ai chimed in. "Albeit the girl, Ou, may have some idea about +painting, all she can manage are just a few outline sketches, so that +unless, now that she has to accomplish the picture of this garden, she +can lay a claim to some ingenuity, will she ever be able to succeed in +effecting a painting? This garden resembles a regular picture. The +rockeries and trees, towers and pavilions, halls and houses are, as far +as distances and density go, neither too numerous, nor too few. Such as +it is, it is fitly laid out; but were you to put it on paper in strict +compliance with the original, why, it will surely not elicit admiration. +In a thing like this, it's necessary to pay due care to the various +positions and distances on paper, whether they should be large or +whether small; and to discriminate between main and secondary; adding +what is needful to add, concealing and reducing what should be concealed +and reduced, and exposing to view what should remain visible. As soon as +a rough copy is executed, it should again be considered in all its +details, for then alone will it assume the semblance of a picture. In +the second place, all these towers, terraces and structures must be +distinctly delineated; for with just a trifle of inattention, the +railings will slant, the pillars will be topsy-turvy, doors and windows +will recline in a horizontal position, steps will separate, leaving +clefts between them, and even tables will be crowded into the walls, and +flower-pots piled on portieres; and won't it, instead of turning out +into a picture, be a mere caricature? Thirdly, proper care must also be +devoted, in the insertion of human beings, to density and height, to the +creases of clothing, to jupes and sashes, to fingers, hands, and feet, +as these are most important details; for if even one stroke be not +thoroughly executed, then, if the hands be not swollen, the feet will be +made to look as if they were lame. The colouring of faces and the +drawing of the hair are minor points; but, in my own estimation, they +really involve intense difficulty. Now a year's leave is, on one hand, +too excessive, and a month's is, on the other, too little; so just give +her half a year's leave. Depute, besides, cousin Pao-yue to lend her a +hand in her task. Not that cousin Pao knows how to give any hints about +painting; that in itself would be more of a drawback; but in order that, +in the event of there being anything that she doesn't comprehend, or of +anything perplexing her as to how best to insert it, cousin Pao may take +the picture outside and make the necessary inquiries of those gentlemen, +who excel in painting. Matters will thus be facilitated for her." + +At this suggestion Pao-yue was the first to feel quite enchanted. "This +proposal is first-rate!" he exclaimed. "The towers and terraces minutely +executed by Chan Tzu-liang are so perfect, and the beauties painted by +Ch'eng Jih-hsing so extremely fine that I'll go at once and ask them of +them!" + +"I've always said that you fuss for nothing!" Pao-ch'ai interposed. "I +merely passed a cursory remark, and there you want to go immediately and +ask for things. Do wait until we arrive at some decision in our +deliberations, and then you can go! But let's consider now what would be +best to use to paint the picture on?" + +"I've got, in my quarters," Pao-yue answered, "some snow-white, wavy +paper, which is both large in size, and proof against ink as well." + +Pao-ch'ai gave a sarcastic smile. "I do maintain," she cried, "that you +are a perfectly useless creature! That snow-white, wavy paper is good +for pictures consisting of characters and for outline drawings. Or else, +those who have the knack of making landscapes, use it for depicting +scenery of the southern Sung era, as it resists ink and is strong enough +to bear coarse painting. But were you to employ this sort of paper to +make a picture of this garden on, it will neither stand the colours, nor +will it be easy to dry the painting by the fire. So not only won't it be +suitable, but it will be a pity too to waste the paper. I'll tell you a +way how to get out of this. When this garden was first laid out, some +detailed plan was used, which although executed by a mere +house-decorator, was perfect with regard to sites and bearings. You'd +better therefore ask for it of your worthy mother, and apply as well to +lady Feng for a piece of thick glazed lustring of the size of that +paper, and hand them to the gentlemen outside, and request them to +prepare a rough copy for you, with any alterations or additions as might +be necessary to make so as to accord with the style of these grounds. +All that will remain to be done will be to introduce a few human beings; +no more. Then when you have to match the azure and green pigments as +well as the ground gold and ground silver, you can get those people +again to do so for you. But you'll also have to bring an extra portable +stove, so as to have it handy for melting the glue, and for washing your +pencils, after you've taken the glue off. You further require a large +table, painted white and covered with a cloth. That lot of small dishes +you have aren't sufficient; your pencils too are not enough. It will be +well consequently for you to purchase a new set of each." + +"Do I own such a lot of painting materials!" Hsi Ch'un exclaimed. "Why, +I simply use any pencil that first comes under my hand to paint with; +that's all. And as for pigments, I've only got four kinds, ochrey stone, +'Kuang' flower paint, rattan yellow and rouge. Besides these, all I have +amount to a couple of pencils for applying colours; no more." + +"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Pao-ch'ai remarked. "I've still got +some of these things remaining. But you don't need them, so were I to +give you any, they'd lie uselessly about. I'll put them away for you now +for a time, and, when you want them, I'll let you have some. You should, +however, keep them for the exclusive purpose of painting fans; for were +you to paint such big things with them it would be a pity! I'll draw out +a list for you to-day to enable you to go and apply to our worthy senior +for the items; as it isn't likely that you people can possibly know all +that's required. I'll dictate them, and cousin Pao can write them down!" + +Pao-yue had already got a pencil and inkslab ready, for, fearing lest he +might not remember clearly the various necessaries, he had made up his +mind to write a memorandum of them; so the moment he heard Pao-ch'ai's +suggestion, he cheerfully took up his pencil, and listened quietly. + +"Four pencils of the largest size," Pao-ch'ai commenced, "four of the +third size; four of the second size; four pencils for applying colours +on big ground; four on medium ground; four for small ground; ten claws +of large southern crabs; ten claws of small crabs; ten pencils for +painting side-hair and eyebrows; twenty for laying heavy colours; twenty +for light colours; ten for painting faces; twenty willow-twigs; four +ounces of 'arrow head' pearls; four ounces of southern ochre; four +ounces of stone yellow; four ounces of dark green; four ounces of +malachite; four ounces of tube-yellow; eight ounces of 'kuang' flower; +four boxes of lead powder; ten sheets of rouge; two hundred sheets of +thin red-gold leaves; two hundred sheets of lead; four ounces of smooth +glue, from the two Kuang; and four ounces of pure alum. The glue and +alum for sizing the lustring are not included, so don't bother +yourselves about them, but just take the lustring and give it to them +outside to size it with alum for you. You and I can scour and clarify +all these pigments, and thus amuse ourselves, and prepare them for use +as well. I feel sure you'll have an ample supply to last you a whole +lifetime. But you must also get ready four sieves of fine lustring; a +pair of coarse ones; four brush-pencils; four bowls, some large, some +small; twenty large, coarse saucers; ten five-inch plates; twenty +three-inch coarse, white plates; two stoves; four large and small +earthenware pans; two new porcelain jars; four new water buckets; four +one-foot-long bags, made of white cloth; two catties of light charcoal; +one or two catties of willow-wood charcoal; a wooden box with three +drawers; a yard of thick gauze, two ounces of fresh ginger; half a catty +of soy;..." + +"An iron kettle and an iron shovel," hastily chimed in Tai-yue with a +smile full of irony. + +"To do what with them?" Pao-ch'ai inquired. + +"You ask for fresh ginger, soy and all these condiments, so I indent for +an iron kettle for you to cook the paints and eat them." Tai-yue +answered, to the intense merriment of one and all, who gave way to +laughter. + +"What do you, P'in Erh, know about these things?" Pao-ch'ai laughed. "I +am not certain in my mind that you won't put those coarse coloured +plates straightway on the fire. But unless you take the precaution +beforehand of rubbing the bottom with ginger juice, mixed with soy, and +of warming them dry, they're bound to crack, the moment they experience +the least heat." + +"It's really so," they exclaimed with one voice, after this explanation. + +Tai-yue perused the list for a while. She then smiled and gave T'an Ch'un +a tug. "Just see," she whispered, "we want to paint a picture, and she +goes on indenting for a number of water jars and boxes! But, I presume, +she's got so muddled, that she inserts a list of articles needed for her +trousseau." + +T'an Ch'un, at her remark, laughed with such heartiness, that it was all +she could do to check herself. "Cousin Pao," she observed, "don't you +wring her mouth? Just ask her what disparaging things she said about +you." + +"Why need I ask?" Pao-ch'ai smiled. "Is it likely, pray, that you can +get ivory out of a cur's mouth?" + +Speaking the while, she drew near, and, seizing Tai-yue, she pressed her +down on the stove-couch with the intention of pinching her face. Tai-yue +smilingly hastened to implore for grace. "My dear cousin," she cried, +"spare me! P'in Erh is young in years; all she knows is to talk at +random; she has no idea of what's proper and what's improper. But you +are my elder cousin, so teach me how to behave. If you, cousin, don't +let me off, to whom can I go and address my entreaties?" + +Little did, however, all who heard her apprehend that there lurked some +hidden purpose in her insinuations. "She's right there," they +consequently pleaded smilingly. "So much is she to be pitied that even +we have been mollified; do spare her and finish!" + +Pao-ch'ai had, at first, meant to play with her, but when she unawares +heard her drag in again the advice she had tendered her the other day, +with regard to the reckless perusal of unwholesome books, she at once +felt as if she could not have any farther fuss with her, and she let her +rise to her feet. + +"It's you, after all, elder cousin," Tai-yue laughed. "Had it been I, I +wouldn't have let any one off." + +Pao-ch'ai smiled and pointed at her. "It is no wonder," she said, "that +our dear ancestor doats on you and that every one loves you. Even I have +to-day felt my heart warm towards you! But come here and let me put your +hair up for you!" + +Tai-yue then, in very deed, swung herself round and crossed over to her. +Pao-ch'ai arranged her coiffure with her hands. Pao-yue, who stood by and +looked on, thought the style, in which her hair was being made up, +better than it was before. But, of a sudden, he felt sorry at what had +happened, as he fancied that she should not have let her brush her side +hair, but left it alone for the time being and asked him to do it for +her. While, however, he gave way to these erratic thoughts, he heard +Pao-ch'ai speak. "We've done with what there was to write," she said, +"so you'd better tomorrow go and tell grandmother about the things. If +there be any at home, well and good; but if not, get some money to buy +them with. I'll then help you both in your preparations." + +Pao-yue vehemently put the list away; after which, they all joined in a +further chat on irrelevant matters; and, their evening meal over, they +once more repaired into old lady Chia's apartments to wish her +good-night. Their grandmother had, indeed, had nothing serious the +matter with her. Her ailment had amounted mainly to fatigue, to which a +slight chill had been super-added, so that having kept in the warm room +for the day and taken a dose or two of medicine, she entirely got over +the effects, and felt, in the evening, quite like own self again. + +But, reader, the occurrences of the next day areas yet a mystery to you, +but the nest chapter will divulge them. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + Having time to amuse themselves, the Chia inmates raise, when least + expected, funds to celebrate lady Feng's birthday. + In his ceaseless affection for Chin Ch'uen, Pao-yue uses, for the + occasion, a pinch of earth as incense and burns it. + + +When Madame Wang saw, for we will now proceed with our narrative, that +the extent of dowager lady Chia's indisposition, contracted on the day +she had been into the garden of Broad Vista, amounted to a simple chill, +that no serious ailment had supervened, and that her health had improved +soon after the doctor had been sent for and she had taken a couple of +doses of medicine, she called lady Feng to her and asked her to get +ready a present of some kind for her to take to her husband, Chia Cheng. +But while they were engaged in deliberation, they perceived a +waiting-maid arrive. She came from their old senior's part to invite +them to go to her. So, with speedy step, Madame Wang led the way for +lady Feng, and they came over into her quarters. + +"Pray, may I ask," Madame Wang then inquired, "whether you're feeling +nearly well again now?" + +"I'm quite all right to-day," old lady Chia replied. "I've tasted the +young-pheasant soup you sent me a little time back and find it full of +relish. I've also had two pieces of meat, so I feel quite comfortable +within me." + +"These dainties were presented to you, dear ancestor, by that girl +Feng," Madame Wang smiled. "It only shows how sincere her filial piety +is. She does not render futile the love, which you, venerable senior, +ever lavish on her." + +Dowager lady Chia nodded her head assentingly. "She's too kind to think +of me!" she answered smiling. "But should there be any more uncooked, +let them fry a couple of pieces; and, if these be thoroughly immersed in +wine, the congee will taste well with them. The soup is, it's true, +good, but it shouldn't, properly speaking, be prepared with fine rice." + +After listening to her wishes, lady Feng expressed with alacrity her +readiness to see them executed, and directed a servant to go and deliver +the message in the cook-house. + +"I sent the servant for you," dowager lady Chia meanwhile said to Madame +Wang with a smile, "not for anything else, but for the birthday of that +girl Feng, which falls on the second. I had made up my mind two years +ago to celebrate her birthday in proper style, but when the time came, +there happened to be again something important to attend to, and it went +by without anything being done. But this year, the inmates are, on one +hand, all here, and there won't, I fancy, be, on the other, anything to +prevent us, so we should all do our best to enjoy ourselves thoroughly +for a day." + +"I was thinking the same thing," Madame Wang rejoined, laughingly, "and, +since it's your good pleasure, venerable senior, why, shouldn't we +deliberate at once and decide upon something?" + +"To the best of my recollection," dowager lady Chia resumed smiling, +"whenever in past years I've had any birthday celebrations for any one +of us, no matter who it was, we have ever individually sent our +respective presents; but this method is common and is also apt, I think, +to look very much as if there were some disunion. But I'll now devise a +new way; a way, which won't have the effect of creating any discord, and +will be productive of good cheer." + +"Let whatever way you may think best, dear ancestor, be adopted." Madame +Wang eagerly rejoined. + +"My idea is," old lady Chia laughingly continued, "that we too should +follow the example of those poor families and raise a subscription among +ourselves, and devote the whole of whatever we may collect to meet the +outlay for the necessary preparations. What do you say, will this do or +not?" + +"This is a splendid idea!" Madame Wang acquiesced. "But what will, I +wonder, be the way adopted for raising contributions?" + +Old lady Chia was the more inspirited by her reply. There and then she +despatched servants to go and invite Mrs. Hsueeh, Madame Hsing and the +rest of the ladies, and bade others summon the young ladies and Pao-yue. +But from the other mansion, Chia Chen's spouse, Lai Ta's wife, even up +to the wives of such stewards as enjoyed a certain amount of +respectability, were likewise to be asked to come round. + +The sight of their old mistress' delight filled the waiting-maids and +married women with high glee as well; and each hurried with vehemence to +execute her respective errand. Those that were to be invited were +invited, and those that had to be sent for were sent for; and, before +the lapse of such time as could suffice to have a meal in, the old as +well as young, the high as well as low, crammed, in a black mass, every +bit of the available space in the rooms. + +Only Mrs. Hsueeh and dowager lady Chia sat opposite to each other. +Mesdames Hsing and Wang simply seated themselves on two chairs, which +faced the door of the apartment. Pao-ch'ai and her five or six cousins +occupied the stove-couch. Pao-yue sat on his grandmother's lap. Below, +the whole extent of the floor was crowded with inmates on their feet. +But old lady Chia forthwith desired that a few small stools should be +fetched. When brought, these were proffered to Lai Ta's mother and some +other nurses, who were advanced in years and held in respect; for it was +the custom in the Chia mansion that the family servants, who had waited +upon any of the fathers or mothers, should enjoy a higher status than +even young masters and mistresses. Hence it was that while Mrs. Yu, lady +Feng and other ladies remained standing below, Lai Ta's mother and three +or four other old nurses had, after excusing themselves for their +rudeness, seated themselves on small stools. + +Dowager lady Chia recounted, with a face beaming with smiles, the +suggestions she had shortly made, for the benefit of the various inmates +present; and one and all, of course, were only too ready to contribute +for the entertainment. More, some of them, were on friendly terms with +lady Feng, so they, of their own free will, adopted the proposal; others +lived in fear and trembling of lady Feng, and these were only too +anxious to make up to her. Every one, besides, could well afford the +means, so that, as soon as they heard of the proposed subscriptions, +they, with one consent, signified their acquiescence. + +"I'll give twenty taels!" old lady Chia was the first to say with a +smile playing round her lips. + +"I'll follow your lead, dear senior," Mrs. Hsueeh smiled, "and also +subscribe twenty taels." + +"We don't presume to place ourselves on an equal footing with your +ladyship," Mesdames Hsing and Wang pleaded. "We, of course, come one +degree lower; each of us therefore will contribute sixteen taels." + +"We too naturally rank one step lower," Mrs. Yu and Li Wan also smiled, +"so we'll each give twelve taels." + +"You're a widow," dowager lady Chia eagerly demurred, addressing herself +to Li Wan, "and have lost all your estate, so how could we drag you into +all this outlay! I'll contribute for you!" + +"Don't be in such high feather dear senior," lady Feng hastily observed +laughing, "but just look to your accounts before you saddle yourself +with this burden! You've already taken upon yourself two portions; and +do you now also volunteer sixteen taels on behalf of my elder +sister-in-law? You may willingly do so, while you speak in the abundance +of your spirits, but when you, by and bye, come to ponder over what +you've done, you'll feel sore at heart again! 'It's all that girl Feng +that's driven me to spend the money,' you'll say in a little time; and +you'll devise some ingenious way to inveigle me to fork out three or +four times as much as your share and thus make up your deficit in an +underhand way; while I will still be as much in the clouds as if I were +in a dream!" + +These words made every one laugh. + +"According to you, what should be done?" dowager lady Chia laughingly +inquired. + +"My birthday hasn't yet come," lady Feng smiled; "and already now I've +been the recipient of so much more than I deserve that I am quite +unhappy. But if I don't contribute a single cash, I shall feel really +ill at ease for the trouble I shall be giving such a lot of people. It +would be as well, therefore, that I should bear this share of my senior +sister-in-law; and, when the day comes, I can eat a few more things, and +thus be able to enjoy some happiness." + +"Quite right!" cried Madame Hsing and the others at this suggestion. So +old lady Chia then signified her approval. + +"There's something more I'd like to add," lady Feng pursued smiling. "I +think that it's fair enough that you, worthy ancestor, should, besides +your own twenty taels, have to stand two shares as well, the one for +cousin Liu, the other for cousin Pao-yue, and that Mrs. Hsueeh should, +beyond her own twenty taels, likewise bear cousin Pao-ch'ai's portion. +But it's somewhat unfair that the two ladies Mesdames Hsing and Wang +should each only give sixteen taels, when their share is small, and when +they don't subscribe anything for any one else. It's you, venerable +senior, who'll be the sufferer by this arrangement." + +Dowager lady Chia, at these words, burst out into a boisterous fit of +laughter. "It's this hussey Feng," she observed, "who, after all, takes +my side! What you say is quite right. Hadn't it been for you, I would +again have been duped by them!" + +"Dear senior!" lady Feng smiled. Just hand over our two cousins to those +two ladies and let each take one under her charge and finish. If you +make each contribute one share, it will be square enough." + +"This is perfectly fair," eagerly rejoined old lady Chia. "Let this +suggestion be carried out!" + +Lai Ta's mother hastily stood up. "This is such a subversion of right," +she smiled, "that I'll put my back up on account of the two ladies. +She's a son's wife, on the other side, and, in here, only a wife's +brother's child; and yet she doesn't incline towards her mother-in-law +and her aunt, but takes other people's part. This son's wife has +therefore become a perfect stranger; and a close niece has, in fact, +become a distant niece!" + +As she said this, dowager lady Chia and every one present began to +laugh. "If the junior ladies subscribe twelve taels each," Lai Ta's +mother went on to ask, "we must, as a matter of course, also come one +degree lower; eh?" + +Upon hearing this, old lady Chia remonstrated. "This won't do!" she +observed. "You naturally should rank one degree lower, but you're all, I +am well aware, wealthy people; and, in spite of your status being +somewhat lower, your funds are more flourishing than theirs. It's only +just then that you should be placed on the same standing as those +people!" + +The posse of nurses expressed with promptness their acceptance of the +proposal their old mistress made. + +"The young ladies," dowager lady Chia resumed, "should merely give +something for the sake of appearances! If each one contributes a sum +proportionate to her monthly allowance, it will be ample!" Turning her +head, "Yuean Yang!" she cried, "a few of you should assemble in like +manner, and consult as to what share you should take in the matter. So +bring them along!" + +Yuean Yang assured her that her desires would be duly attended to and +walked away. But she had not been absent for any length of time, when +she appeared on the scene along with P'ing Erh, Hsi Jen, Ts'ai Hsia and +other girls, and a number of waiting-maids as well. Of these, some +subscribed two taels; others contributed one tael. + +"Can it be," dowager lady Chia then said to P'ing Erh, "that you don't +want any birthday celebrated for your mistress, that you don't range +yourself also among them?" + +"The other money I gave," P'ing Erh smiled, "I gave privately, and is +extra." "This is what I am publicly bound to contribute along with the +lot." + +"That's a good child!" lady Chia laughingly rejoined. + +"Those above as well as those below have all alike given their share," +lady Feng went on to observe with a smile. "But there are still those +two secondary wives; are they to give anything or not? Do go and ask +them! It's but right that we should go to the extreme length and include +them. Otherwise, they'll imagine that we've looked down upon them!" + +"Just so!" eagerly answered lady Chia, at these words. "How is it that +we forgot all about them? The only thing is, I fear, they've got no time +to spare; yet, tell a servant-girl to go and ask them what they'll do!" + +While she spoke, a servant-girl went off. After a long absence, she +returned. "Each of them," she reported, "will likewise contribute two +taels." + +Dowager lady Chia was delighted with the result. "Fetch a pen and +inkslab," she cried, "and let's calculate how much they amount to, all +together." + +Mrs. Yu abused lady Feng in a low tone of voice. "I'll take you, you +mean covetous creature, and ... ! All these mothers-in-law and +sisters-in-law have come forward and raised money to celebrate your +birthday, and are you yet not satisfied that you must also drag in those +two miserable beings! But what do you do it for?" + +"Try and talk less trash!" lady Feng smiled; also in an undertone. +"We'll be leaving this place in a little time and then I'll square up +accounts with you! But why ever are those two miserable? When they have +money, they uselessly give it to other people; and isn't it better that +we should get hold of it, and enjoy ourselves with it?" + +While she uttered these taunts, they computed that the collections would +reach a sum over and above one hundred and fifty taels. + +"We couldn't possibly run through all this for a day's theatricals and +banquet!" old lady Chia exclaimed. + +"As no outside guests are to be invited," Mrs. Yu interposed, "and the +number of tables won't also be many, there will be enough to cover two +or three days' outlay! First of all, there won't be anything to spend +for theatricals, so we'll effect a saving on that item." + +"Just call whatever troupe that girl Feng may say she likes best," +dowager lady Chia suggested. + +"We've heard quite enough of the performances of that company of ours," +lady Feng said; "let's therefore spend a little money and send for +another, and see what they can do." + +"I leave that to you, brother Chen's wife," old lady Chia pursued, "in +order that our girl Feng should have occasion to trouble her mind with +as little as possible, and be able to enjoy a day's peace and quiet. +It's only right that she should." + +Mrs. Yu replied that she would be only too glad to do what she could. +They then prolonged their chat for a little longer, until one and all +realised that their old senior must be quite fagged out, and they +gradually dispersed. + +After seeing Mesdames Hsing and Wang off, Mrs. Yu and the other ladies +adjourned into lady Feng's rooms to consult with her about the birthday +festivities. + +"Don't ask me!" lady Feng urged. "Do whatever will please our worthy +ancestor." + +"What a fine thing you are to come across such a mighty piece of luck!" +Mrs. Yu smiled. "I was wondering what had happened that she summoned us +all! Why, was it simply on this account? Not to breathe a word about the +money that I'll have to contribute, must I have trouble and annoyance to +bear as well? How will you show me any thanks?" + +"Don't bring shame upon yourself!" lady Feng laughed. "I didn't send for +you; so why should I be thankful to you! If you funk the exertion, go at +once and let our venerable senior know, and she'll depute some one else +and have done." + +"You go on like this as you see her in such excellent spirits, that's +why!" Mrs. Yu smilingly answered. "It would be well, I advise you, to +pull in a bit; for if you be too full of yourself, you'll get your due +reward!" + +After some further colloquy, these two ladies eventually parted company. + +On the next day, the money was sent over to the Ning Kuo Mansion at the +very moment that Mrs. Yu had got up, and was performing her toilette and +ablutions. "Who brought it?" she asked. + +"Nurse Lin," the servant-girl said by way of response. + +"Call her in," Mrs. Yu said. + +The servant-girls walked as far as the lower rooms and called Lin +Chih-hsiao's wife to come in. Mrs. Yu bade her seat herself on the +footstool. While she hurriedly combed her hair and washed her face and +hands, she wanted to know how much the bundle contained in all. + +"This is what's subscribed by us servants." Lin Chih-hsiao's wife +replied, "and so I collected it and brought it over first. As for the +contributions of our venerable mistress, and those of the ladies, they +aren't ready yet." + +But simultaneously with this reply, the waiting-maids announced: "Our +lady of the other mansion and Mrs. Hsueeh have sent over some one with +their portions." + +"You mean wenches!" Mrs. Yu cried, scolding them with a smile. "All the +gumption you've got is to simply bear in mind this sort of nonsense! In +a fit of good cheer, your old mistress yesterday purposely expressed a +wish to imitate those poor people, and raise a subscription. But you at +once treasured it up in your memory, and, when the thing came to be +canvassed by you, you treated it in real earnest! Don't you yet quick +bundle yourselves out, and bring the money in! Be careful and give them +some tea before you see them off." + +The waiting-maids smilingly hastened to go and take delivery of the +money and bring it in. It consisted, in all, of two bundles, and +contained Pao-ch'ai's and Tai-yue's shares as well. + +"Whose shares are wanting?" Mrs. Yu asked. + +"Those of our old lady, of Madame Wang, the young ladies, and of our +girls below are still missing," Lin Chih-hsiao's wife explained. + +"There's also that of your senior lady," Mrs. Yu proceeded. + +"You'd better hurry over, my lady," Lin Chih-hsiao's wife said; "for as +this money will be issued through our mistress Secunda, she'll nobble +the whole of it." + +While conversing, Mrs. Yu finished arranging her coiffure and performing +her ablutions; and, giving orders to see that the carriage was got +ready, she shortly arrived at the Jung mansion. First and foremost she +called on lady Feng. Lady Feng, she discovered, had already put the +money into a packet, and was on the point of sending it over. + +"Is it all there?" Mrs. Yu asked. + +"Yes, it is," lady Feng smiled, "so you might as well take it away at +once; for if it gets mislaid, I've nothing to do with it." + +"I'm somewhat distrustful," Mrs. Yu laughed, "so I'd like to check it in +your presence." + +These words over, she verily checked sum after sum. She found Li Wan's +share alone wanting. "I said that you were up to tricks!" laughingly +observed Mrs. Yu. "How is it that your elder sister-in-law's isn't +here?" + +"There's all that money; and isn't it yet enough?" lady Feng smiled. "If +there's merely a portion short it shouldn't matter! Should the money +prove insufficient, I can then look you up, and give it to you." + +"When the others were present yesterday," Mrs. Yu pursued, "you were +ready enough to act as any human being would; but here you're again +to-day prevaricating with me! I won't, by any manner of means, agree to +this proposal of yours! I'll simply go and ask for the money of our +venerable senior." + +"I see how dreadful you are!" lady Feng laughed. "But when something +turns up by and bye, I'll also be very punctilious; so don't you then +bear me a grudge!" + +"Well, never mind if you don't give your quota!" Mrs. Yu smilingly +rejoined. "Were it not that I consider the dutiful attentions you've all +along shown me would I ever be ready to humour you?" + +So rejoining, she produced P'ing Erh's share. "P'ing Erh, come here," +she cried, "take this share of yours and put it away! Should the money +collected turn out to be below what's absolutely required, I'll make up +the sum for you." + +P'ing Erh apprehended her meaning. "My lady," she answered, with a +cheerful countenance, "it would come to the same thing if you were to +first spend what you want and to give me afterwards any balance that may +remain of it." + +"Is your mistress alone to be allowed to do dishonest acts," Mrs. Yu +laughed, "and am I not to be free to bestow a favour?" + +P'ing Erh had no option, but to retain her portion. + +"I want to see," Mrs. Yu added, "where your mistress, who is so +extremely careful, will run through all the money, we've raised! If she +can't spend it, why she'll take it along with her in her coffin, and +make use of it there." + +While still speaking, she started on her way to dowager lady Chia's +suite of rooms. After first paying her respects to her, she made a few +general remarks, and then betook herself into Yuean Yang's quarters where +she held a consultation with Yuean Yang. Lending a patient ear to all +that Yuean Yang; had to recommend in the way of a programme, and as to +how best to give pleasure to old lady Chia, she deliberated with her +until they arrived at a satisfactory decision. When the time came for +Mrs. Yu to go, she took the two taels, contributed by Yuean Yang, and +gave them back to her. "There's no use for these!" she said, and with +these words still on her lips, she straightway quitted her presence and +went in search of Madame Wang. + +After a short chat, Madame Wang stepped into the family shrine reserved +for the worship of Buddha, so she likewise restored Ts'ai Yuen's share to +her; and, availing herself of lady Feng's absence, she presently +reimbursed to Mrs. Chu and Mrs. Chao the amount of their respective +contributions. + +These two dames would not however presume to take their money back. +"Your lot, ladies, is a pitiful one!" Mrs. Yu then expostulated. "How +can you afford all this spare money! That hussey Feng is well aware of +the fact. I'm here to answer for you!" + +At these assurances, both put the money away, with profuse expressions +of gratitude. + +In a twinkle, the second day of the ninth moon arrived. The inmates of +the garden came to find out that Mrs. Yu was making preparations on an +extremely grand scale; for not only was there to be a theatrical +performance, but jugglers and women storytellers as well; and they +combined in getting everything ready that could conduce to afford +amusement and enjoyment. + +"This is," Li Wan went on to say to the young ladies, "the proper day +for our literary gathering, so don't forget it. If Pao-yue hasn't +appeared, it must, I presume, be that his mind is so preoccupied with +the fuss that's going on that he has lost sight of all pure and refined +things." + +Speaking, "Go and see what he is up to!" she enjoined a waiting-maid; +"and be quick and tell him to come." + +The waiting-maid returned after a long absence. "Sister Hua says," she +reported, "that he went out of doors, soon after daylight this morning." + +The result of the inquiries filled every one with surprise. "He can't +have gone out!" they said. "This girl is stupid, and doesn't know how to +speak." They consequently also directed Ts'ui Mo to go and ascertain the +truth. In a little time, Ts'ui Mo returned. "It's really true," she +explained, "that he has gone out of doors. He gave out that a friend of +his was dead, and that he was going to pay a visit of condolence." + +"There's certainly nothing of the kind," T'an Ch'un interposed. "But +whatever there might have been to call him away, it wasn't right of him +to go out on an occasion like the present one! Just call Hsi Jen here, +and let me ask her!" + +But just as she was issuing these directions, she perceived Hsi Jen +appear on the scene. "No matter what he may have had to attend to +to-day," Li Wan and the rest remarked, "he shouldn't have gone out! In +the first place, it's your mistress Secunda's birthday, and our dowager +lady is in such buoyant spirits that the various inmates, whether high +or low, are coming from either mansion to join in the fun; and lo, he +goes off! Secondly, this is the proper day as well for holding our first +literary gathering, and he doesn't so as apply for leave, but stealthily +sneaks away." + +Hsi Jen heaved it sigh. "He said last night," she explained, "that he +had something very important to do this morning; that he was going as +far as Prince Pei Ching's mansion, but that he would hurry back. I +advised him not to go; but, of course, he wouldn't listen to me. When he +got out of bed, at daybreak this morning, he asked for his plain clothes +and put them on, so, I suppose, some lady of note belonging to the +household of Prince Pei Ching must have departed this life; but who can +tell?" + +"If such be truly the case," Li Wan and her companions exclaimed, "it's +quite right that he should have gone over for a while; but he should +have taken care to be back in time !" + +This remark over, they resumed their deliberations. "Let's write our +verses," they said, "and we can fine him on his return." + +As these words were being spoken, they espied a messenger despatched by +dowager lady Chia to ask them over, so they at once adjourned to the +front part of the compound. + +Hsi Jen then reported to his grandmother what Pao-yue had done. Old lady +Chia was upset by the news; so much so, that she issued immediate orders +to a few servants to go and fetch him. + +Pao-yue had, in fact, been brooding over some affair of the heart. A day +in advance he therefore gave proper injunctions to Pei Ming. "As I shall +be going out of doors to-morrow at daybreak," he said, "you'd better get +ready two horses and wait at the back door! No one else need follow as +an escort! Tell Li Kuei that I've gone to the Pei mansion. In the event +of any one wishing to start in search of me, bid him place every +obstacle in the way, as all inquiries can well be dispensed with! Let +him simply explain that I've been detained in the Pei mansion, but that +I shall surely be back shortly." + +Pei Ming could not make out head or tail of what he was driving at; but +he had no alternative than to deliver his message word for word. At the +first blush of morning of the day appointed, he actually got ready two +horses and remained in waiting at the back gate. When daylight set in, +he perceived Pao-yue make his appearance from the side door; got up, from +head to foot, in a plain suit of clothes. Without uttering a word, he +mounted his steed; and stooping his body forward, he proceeded at a +quick step on his way down the road. Pei Ming had no help but to follow +suit; and, springing on his horse, he smacked it with his whip, and +overtook his master. "Where are we off to?" he eagerly inquired, from +behind. + +"Where does this road lead to?" Pao-yue asked. + +"This is the main road leading out of the northern gate." Pei Ming +replied. "Once out of it, everything is so dull and dreary that there's +nothing worth seeing!" + +Pao-yue caught this answer and nodded his head. "I was just thinking that +a dull and dreary place would be just the thing!" he observed. While +speaking, he administered his steed two more whacks. The horse quickly +turned a couple of corners, and trotted out of the city gate. Pei Ming +was more and more at a loss what to think of the whole affair; yet his +only course was to keep pace closely in his master's track. With one +gallop, they covered a distance of over seven or eight lis. But it was +only when human habitations became gradually few and far between that +Pao-yue ultimately drew up his horse. Turning his head round: "Is there +any place here," he asked, "where incense is sold?" + +"Incense!" Pei Ming shouted, "yes, there is; but what kind of incense it +is I don't know." + +"All other incense is worth nothing," Pao-yue resumed, after a moment's +reflection. "We should get sandalwood, conifer and cedar, these three." + +"These three sorts are very difficult to get," Pei Ming smiled. + +Pao-yue was driven to his wits' ends. But Pei Ming noticing his dilemma, +"What do you want incense for?" he felt impelled to ask. "Master +Secundus, I've often seen you wear a small purse, about your person, +full of tiny pieces of incense; and why don't you see whether you've got +it with you?" + +This allusion was sufficient to suggest the idea to Pao-yue's mind. +Forthwith, he drew back his hand and felt the purse suspended on the +lapel of his coat. It really contained two bits of 'Ch'en Su.' At this +discovery, his heart expanded with delight. The only thing that (damped +his spirits) was the notion that there was a certain want of reverence +in his proceedings; but, on second consideration, he concluded that what +he had about him was, after all, considerably superior to any he could +purchase, and, with alacrity, he went on to inquire about a censer and +charcoal. + +"Don't think of such things!" Pei Ming urged. "Where could they be +procured in a deserted and lonely place like this? If you needed them, +why didn't you speak somewhat sooner, and we could have brought them +along with us? Would not this have been more convenient?" + +"You stupid thing!" exclaimed Pao-yue. "Had we been able to bring them +along, we wouldn't have had to run in this way as if for life!" + +Pei Ming indulged in a protracted reverie, after which, he gave a smile. +"I've thought of something," he cried, "but I wonder what you'll think +about it, Master Secundus! You don't, I expect, only require these +things; you'll need others too, I presume. But this isn't the place for +them; so let's move on at once another couple of lis, when we'll get to +the 'Water Spirit' monastery." + +"Is the 'Water Spirit' monastery in this neighbourhood?" Pao-yue eagerly +inquired, upon hearing his proposal. "Yes, that would be better; let's +press forward." + +With this reply, he touched his horse with his whip. While advancing on +their way, he turned round. "The nun in this 'Water Spirit' monastery," +he shouted to Pei Ming, "frequently comes on a visit to our house, so +that when we now get there and ask her for the loan of a censer, she's +certain to let us have it." + +"Not to mention that that's a place where our family burns incense," Pei +Ming answered, "she could not dare to raise any objections, to any +appeal from us for a loan, were she even in a temple quite unknown to +us. There's only one thing, I've often been struck with the strong +dislike you have for this 'Water Spirit' monastery, master, and how is +that you're now, so delighted with the idea of going to it?" + +"I've all along had the keenest contempt for those low-bred persons," +Pao-yue rejoined, "who, without knowing why or wherefore, foolishly offer +sacrifices to the spirits, and needlessly have temples erected. The +reason of it all is, that those rich old gentlemen and unsophisticated +wealthy women, who lived in past days, were only too ready, the moment +they heard of the presence of a spirit anywhere, to take in hand the +erection of temples to offer their sacrifices in, without even having +the faintest notion whose spirits they were. This was because they +readily credited as gospel-truth such rustic stories and idle tales as +chanced to reach their ears. Take this place as an example. Offerings +are presented in this 'Water Spirit' nunnery to the spirit of the 'Lo' +stream; hence the name of 'Water Spirit' monastery has been given to it. +But people really don't know that in past days, there was no such thing +as a 'Lo' spirit! These are, indeed, no better than legendary yarns +invented by Ts'ao Tzu-chien, and who would have thought it, this sort of +stupid people have put up images of it, to which they offer oblations. +It serves, however, my purpose to-day, so I'll borrow of her whatever I +need to use." + +While engaged in talking, they reached the entrance. The old nun saw +Pao-yue arrive, and was thoroughly taken aback. So far was this visit +beyond her expectations, that well did it seem to her as if a live +dragon had dropped from the heavens. With alacrity, she rushed up to +him; and making inquiries after his health, she gave orders to an old +Taoist to come and take his horse. + +Pao-yue stepped into the temple. But without paying the least homage to +the image of the 'Lo' spirit, he simply kept his eyes fixed intently on +it; for albeit made of clay, it actually seemed, nevertheless, to +flutter as does a terror-stricken swan, and to wriggle as a dragon in +motion. It looked like a lotus, peeping its head out of the green +stream, or like the sun, pouring its rays upon the russet clouds in the +early morn. Pao-yue's tears unwittingly trickled down his cheeks. + +The old nun presented tea. Pao-yue then asked her for the loan of a +censer to burn incense in. After a protracted absence, the old nun +returned with some incense as well as several paper horses, which she +had got ready for him to offer. But Pao-yue would not use any of the +things she brought. "Take the censer," he said to Pei Ming, "and go out +into the back garden and find a clean spot!" + +But having been unable to discover one; "What about, the platform round +that well?" Pei Ming inquired. + +Pao-yue nodded his head assentingly. Then along with him, he repaired to +the platform of the well. He deposited the censer on the ground, while +Pei Ming stood on one side. Pao-yue produced the incense, and threw it on +the fire. With suppressed tears, he performed half of the ceremony, and, +turning himself round, he bade Pei Ming clear the things away. Pei Ming +acquiesced; but, instead of removing the things, he speedily fell on his +face, and made several prostrations, as his lips uttered this prayer: +"I, Pei Ming, have been in the service of Master Secundus for several +years. Of the secrets of Mr. Secundus' heart there are none, which I +have not known, save that with regard to this sacrifice to-day; the +object of which, he has neither told me; nor have I had the presumption +to ask. But thou, oh spirit! who art the recipient of these sacrificial +offerings, must, I expect, unknown though thy surname and name be to me, +be a most intelligent and supremely beautiful elder or younger sister, +unique among mankind, without a peer even in heaven! As my Master +Secundus cannot give vent to the sentiments, which fill his heart, allow +me to pray on his behalf! Should thou possess spirituality, and holiness +be thy share, do thou often come and look up our Mr. Secundus, for +persistently do his thoughts dwell with thee! And there is no reason why +thou should'st not come! But should'st thou be in the abode of the dead, +grant that our Mr. Secundus too may, in his coming existence, be +transformed into a girl, so that he may be able to amuse himself with +you all! And will not this prove a source of pleasure to both sides?" + +At the close of his invocation, he again knocked his head several times +on the ground, and, eventually, rose to his feet. + +Pao-yue lent an ear to his utterances, but, before they had been brought +to an end, he felt it difficult to repress himself from laughing. Giving +him a kick, "Don't talk such stuff and nonsense!" he shouted. "Were any +looker-on to overhear what you say, he'd jeer at you!" + +Pei Ming got up and put the censer away. While he walked along with +Pao-yue, "I've already," he said, "told the nun that you hadn't as yet +had anything to eat, Master Secundus, and I bade her get a few things +ready for you, so you must force yourself to take something. I know very +well that a grand banquet will be spread in our mansion to-day, that +exceptional bustle will prevail, and that you have, on account of this, +Sir, come here to get out of the way. But as you're, after all, going to +spend a whole day in peace and quiet in here, you should try and divert +yourself as best you can. It won't, therefore, by any manner of means do +for you to have nothing to eat." + +"I won't be at the theatrical performance to have any wine," Pao-yue +remarked, "so what harm will there be in my having a drink here, as the +fancy takes me?" + +"Quite so!" rejoined Pei Ming. "But there's another consideration. You +and I have run over here; but there must be some whose minds are ill at +ease. Were there no one uneasy about us, well, what would it matter if +we got back into town as late as we possibly could? But if there be any +solicitous on your account, it's but right, Master Secundus, that you +should enter the city and return home. In the first place, our worthy +old mistress and Madame Wang, will thus compose their minds; and +secondly, you'll observe the proper formalities, if you succeed in doing +nothing else. But even supposing that, when once you get home, you feel +no inclination to look at the plays and have anything to drink, you can +merely wait upon your father and mother, and acquit yourself of your +filial piety! Well, if it's only a matter of fulfilling this obligation, +and you don't care whether our old mistress and our lady, your mother, +experience concern or not, why, the spirit itself, which has just been +the recipient of your oblations, won't feel in a happy frame of mind! +You'd better therefore, master, ponder and see what you think of my +words!" + +"I see what you're driving at!" Pao-yue smiled. "You keep before your +mind the thought that you're the only servant, who has followed me as an +attendant out of town, and you give way to fear that you will, on your +return, have to bear the consequences. You hence have recourse to these +grandiloquent arguments to shove words of counsel down my throat! I've +come here now with the sole object of satisfying certain rites, and then +going to partake of the banquet and be a spectator of the plays; and I +never mentioned one single word about any intention on my part not to go +back to town for a whole day! I've, however, already accomplished the +wish I fostered in my heart, so if we hurry back to town, so as to +enable every one to set their solicitude at rest, won't the right +principle be carried out to the full in one respect as well as another?" + +"Yes, that would be better!" exclaimed Pei Ming. + +Conversing the while, they wended their way into the Buddhistic hall. +Here the nun had, in point of fact, got ready a table with lenten +viands. Pao-yue hurriedly swallowed some refreshment and so did Pei Ming; +after which, they mounted their steeds and retraced their steps +homewards, by the road they had come. + +Pei Ming followed behind. "Master Secundus!" he kept on shouting, "be +careful how you ride! That horse hasn't been ridden very much, so hold +him in tight a bit." + +As he urged him to be careful, they reached the interior of the city +walls, and, making their entrance once more into the mansion by the back +gate, they betook themselves, with all possible despatch, into the I +Hung court. Hsi Jen and the other maids were not at home. Only a few old +women were there to look after the rooms. As soon as they saw him +arrive, they were so filled with gratification that their eyebrows +dilated and their eyes smiled. "O-mi-to-fu!" they said laughingly, +"you've come! You've all but driven Miss Hua mad from despair! In the +upper quarters, they're just seated at the feast, so be quick, Mr. +Secundus, and go and join them." + +At these words, Pao-yue speedily divested himself of his plain clothes +and put on a coloured costume, reserved for festive occasions, which he +hunted up with his own hands. This done, "Where are they holding the +banquet?" he inquired. + +"They're in the newly erected large reception pavilion," the old women +responded. + +Upon catching their reply, Pao-yue straightway started for the +reception-pavilion. From an early moment, the strains of flageolets and +pipes, of song and of wind-instruments faintly fell on his ear. The +moment he reached the passage on the opposite side, he discerned Yue +Ch'uan-erh seated all alone under the eaves of the verandah giving way +to tears. As soon as she became conscious of Pao-yue's arrival, she drew +a long, long breath. Smacking her lips, "Ai!" she cried, "the phoenix +has alighted! go in at once! Hadn't you come for another minute, every +one would have been quite upset!" + +Pao-yue forced a smile. "Just try and guess where I've been?" he +observed. + +Yue Ch'uan-erh twisted herself round, and, paying no notice to him, she +continued drying her tears. Pao-yue had, therefore, no option but to +enter with hasty step. On his arrival in the reception-hall, he paid his +greetings to his grandmother Chia, to Madame Wang, and the other +inmates, and one and all felt, in fact, as happy to see him back as if +they had come into the possession of a phoenix. + +"Where have you been," dowager lady Chia was the first to ask, "that you +come back at this hour? Don't you yet go and pay your congratulations to +your cousin?" And smiling she proceeded, addressing herself to lady +Feng, "Your cousin has no idea of what's right and what's wrong. Even +though he may have had something pressing to do, why didn't he utter +just one word, but stealthily bolted away on his own hook? Will this +sort of thing ever do? But should you behave again in this fashion by +and bye, I shall, when your father comes home, feel compelled to tell +him to chastise you." + +Lady Feng smiled. "Congratulations are a small matter?" she observed. +"But, cousin Pao, you must, on no account, sneak away any more without +breathing a word to any one, and not sending for some people to escort +you, for carriages and horses throng the streets. First and foremost, +you're the means of making people uneasy at heart; and, what's more, +that isn't the way in which members of a family such as ours should go +out of doors!" + +Dowager lady Chia meanwhile went on reprimanding the servants, who +waited on him. "Why," she said, "do you all listen to him and readily go +wherever he pleases without even reporting a single word? But where did +you really go?" Continuing, she asked, "Did you have anything to eat? Or +did you get any sort of fright, eh?" + +"A beloved wife of the duke of Pei Ching departed this life," Pao-yue +merely returned for answer, "and I went to-day to express my condolences +to him. I found him in such bitter anguish that I couldn't very well +leave him and come back immediately. That's the reason why I tarried +with him a little longer." + +"If hereafter you do again go out of doors slyly and on your own hook," +dowager lady Chia impressed on his mind, "without first telling me, I +shall certainly bid your father give you a caning!" + +Pao-yue signified his obedience with all promptitude. His grandmother +Chia was then bent upon having the servants, who were on attendance on +him, beaten, but the various inmates did their best to dissuade her. +"Venerable senior!" they said, "you can well dispense with flying into a +rage! He has already promised that he won't venture to go out again. +Besides, he has come back without any misadventure, so we should all +compose our minds and enjoy ourselves a bit!" + +Old lady Chia had, at first, been full of solicitude. She had, as a +matter of course, been in a state of despair and displeasure; but, +seeing Pao-yue return in safety, she felt immoderately delighted, to such +a degree, that she could not reconcile herself to visit her resentment +upon him. She therefore dropped all mention of his escapade at once. And +as she entertained fears lest he may have been unhappy or have had, when +he was away, nothing to eat, or got a start on the road, she did not +punish him, but had, contrariwise, recourse to every sort of inducement +to coax him to feel at ease. But Hsi Jen soon came over and attended to +his wants, so the company once more turned their attention to the +theatricals. The play acted on that occasion was, "The record of the +boxwood hair-pin." Dowager lady Chia, Mrs. Hsueeh and the others were +deeply impressed by what they saw and gave way to tears. Some, however, +of the inmates were amused; others were provoked to anger; others gave +vent to abuse. + +But, reader, do you wish to know the sequel? If so, the next chapter +will explain it. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + By some inscrutable turn of affairs, lady Feng begins to feel the + pangs of jealousy. + Pao-yue experiences joy, beyond all his expectations, when P'ing Erh + (receives a slap from lady Feng) and has to adjust her hair. + + +But to resume our narrative. At the performance of the 'Record of the +boxwood hairpin,' at which all the inmates of the household were +present, Pao-yue and his female cousins sat together. When Lin Tai-yue +noticed that the act called, 'The man offers a sacrifice' had been +reached, "This Wang Shih-p'eng," she said to Pao-ch'ai, "is very stupid! +It would be quite immaterial where he offered his sacrifices, and why +must he repair to the riverside? 'At the sight of an object,' the +proverb has it, 'one thinks of a person. All waters under the heavens +revert but to one source.' So had he baled a bowlful from any stream, +and given way to his lamentations, while gazing on it, he could very +well have satisfied his feelings." + +Pao-ch'ai however made no reply. + +Pao-yue then turned his head round and asked for some warm wine to drink +to lady Feng's health. The fact is, that dowager lady Chia had enjoined +on them that this occasion was unlike others, and that it was absolutely +necessary for them to do the best to induce lady Feng to heartily enjoy +herself for the day. She herself, nevertheless, felt too listless to +join the banquet, so simply reclining on a sofa of the inner room, she +looked at the plays in company with Mrs. Hsueeh; and choosing several +kinds of such eatables as were to her taste, she placed them on a small +teapoy, and now helped herself to some, and now talked, as the fancy +took her. Then allotting what viands were served on the two tables +assigned to her to the elder and younger waiting-maids, for whom no +covers were laid, and to those female servants and other domestics, who +were on duty and had to answer calls, she urged them not to mind but to +seat themselves outside the windows, under the eaves of the verandahs, +and to eat and drink at their pleasure, without any regard to +conventionalities. Madame Wang and Madame Hsing occupied places at the +high table below; while round several tables outside sat the posse of +young ladies. + +"Do let that girl Feng have the seat of honour," old lady Chia shortly +told Mrs. Yu and her contemporaries, "and mind be careful in doing the +honours for me, for she is subjected to endless trouble from one year's +end to another!" + +"Very well," said Mrs. Yu. "I fancy," she went on to smile, "that little +used as she is to filling the place of honour, she's bound, if she takes +the high seat, to be so much at a loss how to behave, as to be loth even +to have any wine!" + +Dowager lady Chia was much amused by her reply. "Well, if you can't +succeed," she said, "wait and I'll come and offer it to her." + +Lady Feng with hasty step walked into the inner room. "Venerable +ancestor!" she smiled, "don't believe all they tell you! I've already +had several cups!" + +"Quick, pull her out," old lady Chia laughingly cried to Mrs. Yu, "and +shove her into a chair, and let all of you drink by turns to her health! +If she then doesn't drink, I'll come myself in real earnest and make her +have some!" + +At these words, Mrs. Yu speedily dragged her out, laughing the while, +and forced her into a seat, and, directing a servant to fetch a cup, she +filled it with wine. "You've got from one year's end to another," she +smiled, "the trouble and annoyance of conferring dutiful attentions upon +our venerable senior, upon Madame Wang and upon myself, so, as I've +nothing to-day, with which to prove my affection for you, have a sip, +from my hand, my own dear, of this cup of wine I poured for you myself!" + +"If you deliberately wish to present me a glass," lady Feng laughed, +"fall on your knees and I'll drink at once!" + +"What's this you say?" Mrs. Yu replied with a laugh. "And who are you, I +wonder? But let me tell you this once for all and finish that though +we've succeeded, after ever so many difficulties, in getting up this +entertainment to-day, there's no saying whether we shall in the future +be able to have anything more the like of this or not. Let's avail +ourselves then of the present to put our capacity to the strain and +drink a couple of cups!" + +Lady Feng saw very well that she could not advance any excuses, and +necessity obliged her to swallow the contents of two cups. In quick +succession, however, the various young ladies also drew near her, and +lady Feng was constrained again to take a sip from the cup each held. +But nurse Lai Ta too felt compelled, at the sight of dowager lady Chia +still in buoyant spirits, to come forward and join in the merriment, so +putting herself at the head of a number of nurses, she approached and +proffered wine to lady Feng who found it once more so difficult to +refuse that she had to swallow a few mouthfuls. But Yuean Yang and her +companions next appeared, likewise, on the scene to hand her their share +of wine; but lady Feng felt, in fact, so little able to comply with +their wishes, that she promptly appealed to them entreatingly. "Dear +sisters," she pleaded, "do spare me! I'll drink some more to-morrow!" + +"Quite so! we're a mean lot," Yuean Yang laughed. "But now that we stand +in the presence of your ladyship, do condescend to look upon us +favourably! We've always enjoyed some little consideration, and do you +put on the airs of a mistress on an occasion like the present, when +there's such a crowd of people standing by? Really, I shouldn't have +come. But, as you won't touch our wine, we might as well be quick and +retire!" + +While she spoke, she was actually walking away, when lady Feng hastened +to lay hold of her and to detain her. "Dear sister," she cried, "I'll +drink some and have done!" + +So saying, she took the wine and filled a cup to the very brim, and +drained it. Yuean Yang then at length gave her a smile, (and she and her +friends) dispersed. + +Subsequently, the company resumed their places at the banquet. But lady +Feng was conscious that the wine she had primed herself with was +mounting to her head, so abruptly staggering to the upper end, she meant +to betake herself home to lie down, when seeing the jugglers arrive, +"Get the tips ready!" she shouted to Mrs. Yu. "I'm off to wash my face a +bit." + +Mrs. Yu nodded her head assentingly; and lady Feng, noticing that the +inmates were off their guard, left the banquet, and wended her steps +beneath the eaves towards the back entrance of the house. P'ing Erh had, +however, been keeping her eye on her, so hastily she followed in her +footsteps. Lady Feng at once propped herself on her arm. But no sooner +did they reach the covered passage than she discerned a young maid, +attached to her quarters, standing under it. (The girl), the moment she +perceived them, twisted herself round and beat a retreat. Lady Feng +forthwith began to give way to suspicion; and she immediately shouted +out to her to halt. The maid pretended at first not to hear, but, as, +while following her they called out to her time after time, she found +herself compelled to turn round. Lady Feng was seized with greater +doubts than ever. Quickly therefore entering the covered passage with +P'ing Erh, she bade the maid go along with them. Then opening a folding +screen, lady Feng stated herself on the steps leading to the small +courtyard, and made the girl fall on her knees. "Call two boy-servants +from among those on duty at the second gate," she cried out to P'ing +Erh, "to bring a whip of twisted cords, and to take this young wench, +who has no regard for her mistress, and beat her to shreds." + +The servant-maid fell into a state of consternation, and was scared out +of her very wits. Sobbing the while, she kept on bumping her head on the +ground and soliciting for grace. + +"I'm really no ghost! So you must have seen me! Don't you know what good +manners mean and stand still?" lady Feng asked. "Why did you instead +persist in running on?" + +"I truly did not see your ladyship coming," the maid replied with tears +in her eyes. "I was, besides, much concerned as there was no one in the +rooms; that's why I was running on." + +"If there's no one in the rooms, who told you to come out again?" lady +Feng inquired. "And didn't you see me, together with P'ing Erh, at your +heels, stretching out our necks and calling out to you about ten times? +But the more we shouted, the faster you ran! You weren't far off from us +either, so is it likely that you got deaf? And are you still bent upon +bandying words with me?" + +So speaking, she raised her hand and administered her a slap on the +face. But, while the girl staggered from the blow, she gave her a second +slap on the other side of the face, so both cheeks of the maid quickly +began to get purple and to swell. + +P'ing Erh hastened to reason with her mistress. "My lady!" she said, "be +careful you'll be hurting your hand!" + +"Go on, pommel her," urged lady Feng, "and ask her what made her run! +and, if she doesn't tell you, just you take her mouth and tear it to +pieces for her!" + +At the outset, the girl obstinately prevaricated, but when she +eventually heard that lady Feng intended to take a red-hot branding-iron +and burn her mouth with, she at last sobbingly spoke out. "Our Master +Secundus, Mr. Lien, is at home," she remarked, "and he sent me here to +watch your movements, my lady; bidding me go ahead, when I saw you leave +the banquet, and convey the message to him. But, contrary to his hopes, +your ladyship came back just now!" + +Lady Feng saw very well that there lurked something behind all she said. +"What did he ask you to watch me for?" she therefore eagerly asked. "Can +it be, pray, that he dreaded to see me return home? There must be some +other reason; so be quick and tell it to me and I shall henceforward +treat you with regard. If you don't minutely confess all to me, I shall +this very moment take a knife and pare off your flesh!" + +Threatening her the while, she turned her head round, and, extracting a +hairpin from her coiffure, she stuck it promiscuously about the maid's +mouth. This so frightened the girl that, as she made every effort to get +out of her way, she burst out into tears and entreaties. "I'll tell your +ladyship everything," she cried, "but you mustn't say that it was I who +told you." + +Ping Erh, who stood by, exhorted her to obey; but she at the same time +impressed on her mind to speak out without delay. + +"Mr. Secundus himself arrived only a few minutes back," the maid began. +"The moment, however, he came, he opened a bog, and, taking two pieces +of silver, two hairpins, and a couple of rolls of silk, he bade me +stealthily take them to Pao Erh's wife and tell her to come in. As soon +as she put the things away, she hurried to our house, and Master +Secundus ordered me to keep an eye on your ladyship; but of what +happened after that, I've no idea whatever." + +When these disclosures fell on lady Feng's ears, she flew into such a +rage that her whole person felt quite weak; and, rising immediately, she +straightway repaired home. The instant she reached the gate of the +courtyard, she espied a waiting-maid peep out of the entrance. Seeing +lady Feng, she too drew in her head, and tried at once to effect her +escape. But lady Feng called her by name, and made her stand still. This +girl had ever been very sharp, so when she realised that she could not +manage to beat a retreat, she went so far as to run out to her. "I was +just going to tell your ladyship," she smiled, "and here you come! What +a strange coincidence!" + +"Tell me what?" lady Feng exclaimed. + +"That Mr. Secundus is at home," the girl replied, "and has done so and +so." She then recounted to her all the incidents recorded a few minutes +back. + +"Ts'ui!" ejaculated lady Feng. "What were you up to before? Now, that +I've seen you, you come and try to clear yourself!" + +As she spoke, she raised her arm and administered the maid a slap, which +upset her equilibrium. So with hurried step, she betook herself away. +Lady Feng then drew near the window. Lending an ear to what was going on +inside, she heard some one in the room laughingly observe: "When that +queen-of-hell sort of wife of yours dies, it will be a good riddance!" + +"When she's gone," Chia Lien rejoined, "and I marry another, the like of +her, what will I again do?" + +"When she's dead and gone," the woman resumed, "just raise P'ing Erh to +the rank of primary wife. I think she'll turn out considerably better +than she has." + +"At present," Chia Lien put in, "she won't even let me enjoy P'ing Erh's +society! P'ing Erh herself is full of displeasure; yet she dares not +speak. How is it that it has been my fate to bring upon myself the +influence of this evil star?" + +Lady Feng overheard these criticisms and flew into a fit of anger, which +made her tremble violently. When she, however, also caught the praise +heaped by both of them upon P'ing Erh, she harboured the suspicion that +P'ing Erh too must, as a matter of course, have all along employed the +sly resentful language against her. And, as the wine bubbled up more and +more into her head, she did not so much as give the matter a second +thought, but, twisting round, she first and foremost gave P'ing Erh a +couple of whacks, and, with one kick, she banged the door open, and +walked in. Then, without allowing her any time to give any explanation +in her own defence, she clutched Pao Erh's wife, and, tearing her about, +she belaboured her with blows. But the dread lest Chia Lien should slip +out of the room, induced her to post herself in such a way as to +obstruct the doorway. "What a fine wench!" she shouted out abusingly. +"You make a paramour of your mistress' husband, and then you wish to +compass your master's wife's death, for P'ing Erh to transfer her +quarters in here! You base hirelings! You're all of the same stamp, +thoroughly jealous of me; you try to cajole me by your outward display!" + +While abusing them, she once more laid hold of P'ing Erh and beat her +several times. P'ing Erh was pummelled away till her heart thrilled with +a sense of injury, but she had nowhere to go, and breathe her woes. Such +resentment overpowered her feelings that she sobbed without a sign of a +tear. "You people," she railingly shouted, "go and do a lot of shameful +things, and then you also deliberately involve me; but why?" + +So shouting, she too clutched Pao Erh's wife and began to assail her. +Chia Lien had freely primed himself with wine, so, on his return home, +he was in such exuberance of spirits that he observed no secresy in his +doings. The moment, however, he perceived lady Feng appear on the scene, +he got to his wits' end. Yet when he saw P'ing Erh also start a rumpus, +the liquor he had had aroused his ire. The sight of the assault +committed by lady Feng on Pao Erh's wife had already incensed him and +put him to shame, but he had not been able with any consistency to +interfere; but the instant he espied P'ing Erh herself lay hands on her, +he vehemently jumped forward and gave her a kick. "What a vixen!" he +cried. "Are you likewise going to start knocking people about?" + +P'ing Erh was of a timid disposition. At once, therefore, she withheld +her hands, and melted into tears. "Why do you implicate me," she said, +"in things you say behind my back?" + +When lady Feng descried in what fear and dread P'ing Erh was of Chia +Lien, she lost more than ever control over her temper, and, starting +again in pursuit of her, she struck P'ing Erh, while urging her to go +for Pao Erh's wife. + +P'ing Erh was driven to exasperation; and forthwith rushing out of the +apartment, she went in search of a knife to commit suicide with. But the +company of old matrons, who stood outside, hastened to place impediments +in her way, and to argue with her. + +Lady Feng, meanwhile, realised that P'ing Erh had gone to take her life, +and rolling, head foremost, into Chia Lien's embrace, "You put your +heads together to do me harm," she said, "and, when I overhear your +designs, you people conspire to frighten me! But strangle me and have +done." + +Chia Lien was driven to despair; to such a degree that unsheathing a +sword suspended on the wall, "There's no need for any one of you to +commit suicide!" he screamed. "I too am thoroughly exasperated, so I'll +kill the whole lot of you and pay the penalty with my own life! We'll +all then be free from further trouble!" + +The bustle had just reached a climax beyond the chance of a settlement, +when they perceived Mrs. Yu and a crowd of inmates make their appearance +in the room. "What's the matter?" they asked. "There was nothing up just +now, so why is all this row for?" + +At the sight of the new arrivals, Chia Lien more than ever made the +three parts of intoxication, under which he laboured, an excuse to +assume an air calculated to intimidate them, and to pretend, in order to +further his own ends, that he was bent upon despatching lady Feng. + +But lady Feng, upon seeing her relatives appear, got into a mood less +perverse than the one she had been in previous to their arrival; and, +leaving the whole company of them, she scampered, all in tears, over to +the off side, into dowager lady Chia's quarters. + +By this time, the play was over. Lady Feng rushed consequently into the +old lady's presence and fell into her lap. "Venerable ancestor! help +me!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Chia Lien wishes to kill me." + +"What's up?" precipitately inquired dowager lady Chia, Mesdames Hsing +and Wang and the rest. + +"I was just going to my rooms to change my dress," lady Feng wept, "when +I unexpectedly found Mr. Chia Lien at home, talking with some one. +Fancying that visitors had come, I was quite taken aback, and not +presuming to enter, I remained outside the window and listened. It +turned out, in fact, to be Pao Erh's wife holding council with him. She +said that I was dreadful, and that she meant to poison me so as to get +me out of the way and enable P'ing Erh to be promoted to be first wife. +At this, I lost my temper. But not venturing, none the less, to have a +row with him, I simply gave P'ing Erh two slaps; and then I asked him +why he wished to do me harm. But so stricken did he get with shame that +he tried there and then to despatch me." + +Dowager lady Chia treated every word that fell on her ear as truth. +"Dreadful!" she ejaculated. "Bring here at once that low-bred +offspring!" + +Barely was, however, this exclamation out of her lips, than they +perceived Chia Lien, a sword in hand, enter in pursuit of his wife, +followed closely by a bevy of inmates. Chia Lien evidently placed such +thorough reliance upon the love, which old lady Chia had all along +lavished upon them, that he entertained little regard even for his +mother or his aunt, so he came, with perfect effrontery, to stir up a +disturbance in their presence. When Mesdames Hsing and Wang saw him, +they got into a passion, and, with all despatch, they endeavoured to +deter him from his purpose. "You mean thing!" they shouted, abusing him. +"Your crime is more heinous, for our venerable senior is in here!" + +"It's all because our worthy ancestor spoils her," cried Chia Lien, with +eyes awry, "that she behaved as she did and took upon herself to rate +even me!" + +Madame Hsing was full of resentment. Snatching the sword from his grasp, +she kept on telling him to quit the room at once. But Chia Lien +continued to prattle foolish nonsense in a drivelling and maudlin way. +His manner exasperated dowager lady Chia. "I'm well aware," she +observed, "that you haven't the least consideration for any one of us. +Tell some one to go and call his father here and we'll see whether he +doesn't clear out." + +When Chia Lien caught these words, he eventually tottered out of the +apartment. But in such a state of frenzy was he that he did not return +to his quarters, but betook himself into the outer study. + +During this while, Mesdames Hsing and Wang also called lady Feng to +task. + +"Why, what serious matter could it ever have been?" old lady Chia +remarked. "But children of tender years are like greedy kittens, and how +can one say for certain that they won't do such things? Human beings +have, from their very infancy, to go through experiences of this kind! +It's all my fault, however, for pressing you to have a little more wine +than was good for you. But you've also gone and drunk the vinegar of +jealousy!" + +This insinuation made every one laugh. + +"Compose your mind!" proceeded dowager lady Chia. "To-morrow I'll send +for him to apologise to you; but, you'd better to-day not go over, as +you might put him to shame!" Continuing, she also went on to abuse P'ing +Erh. "I've always thought highly of that wench," she said, "and how is +it that she's turned out to be secretly so bad?" + +"P'ing Erh isn't to blame!" Mrs. Yu and the others smiled. "It's lady +Feng who makes people her tools to give vent to her spite! Husband and +wife could not very well come to blows face to face, so they combined in +using P'ing Erh as their scapegoat! What injuries haven't fallen to +P'ing Erh's lot! And do you, venerable senior, still go on blowing her +up?" + +"Is it really so!" exclaimed old lady Chia. "I always said that that +girl wasn't anything like that artful shrew! Well, in that case, she is +to be pitied, for she has had to bear the brunt of her anger, and all +through no fault of hers!" Calling Hu Po to her, "Go," she added, "and +tell P'ing Erh all I enjoin you; 'that I know that she has been insulted +and that to-morrow I'll send for her mistress to make amends, but that +being her mistress' birthday to-day, I won't have her give rise to any +reckless fuss'!" + +P'ing Erh had, we may explain, from an early hour, been dragged by Li +Wan into the garden of Broad Vista. Here P'ing Erh gave way to bitter +tears. So much so, that her throat choked with sobs, and could not give +utterance to speech. + +"You are an intelligent person," exhorted her Pao-ch'ai, "and how +considerately has your lady treated you all along! It was simply because +she has had a little too much wine that she behaved as she did to-day! +But had she not made you the means of giving vent to her spite, is it +likely that she could very well have aired her grievances upon any one +else? Besides, any one else would have laughed at her for acting in a +sham way!" + +While she reasoned with her, she saw Hu Po approach, and deliver dowager +lady Chia's message. P'ing Erh then felt in herself that she had come +out of the whole affair with some credit, and she, little by little, +resumed her equilibrium. She did not, nevertheless, put her foot +anywhere near the front part of the compound. + +After a little rest, Pao Ch'ai and her companions came and paid a visit +to old lady Chia and lady Feng, while Pao-yue pressed P'ing Erh to come +to the I Hung court. Hsi Jen received her with alacrity. "I meant," she +said, "to be the first to ask you, but as our senior lady, Chia Chu, and +the young ladies invited you, I couldn't very well do so myself." + +P'ing Erh returned her smile. "Many thanks!" she rejoined. "How words +ever commenced between us;" she then went on, "when there was no +provocation, I can't tell! But without rhyme or reason, I came in for a +spell of resentment." + +"Our lady Secunda has always been very good to you," laughingly remarked +Hsi Jen, "so she must have done this in a sudden fit of exasperation!" + +"Our lady Secunda did not, after all, say anything to me," P'ing Erh +explained. "It was that wench that blew me up. And she deliberately made +a laughing-stock of me. But that fool also of a master of ours struck +me!" + +While recounting her experiences, she felt a keener sense of injustice +than before, and she found it hard to restrain her tears from trickling +down her cheeks. + +"My dear sister," Pao-yue hastily advised her, "don't wound your heart! +I'm quite ready to express my apologies on behalf of that pair!" + +"What business is that of yours?" P'ing Erh smiled. + +"We cousins, whether male or female, are all alike." Pao-yue smilingly +argued. "So when they hurt any one's feelings, I apologise for them; +it's only right that I should do so. What a pity;" he continued, "these +new clothes too have been stained! But you'll find your sister Hua's +costumes in here, and why don't you put one on, and take some hot wine +and spurt it over yours and iron them out? You might also remake your +coiffure." + +Speaking, he directed the young maids to draw some water for washing the +face and to heat an iron and bring it. + +P'ing Erh had ever heard people maintain that all that Pao-yue excelled +in was in knitting friendships with girls. But Pao-yue had so far been +loth, seeing that P'ing Erh was Chia Lien's beloved secondary wife, and +lady Feng's confidante, to indulge in any familiarities with her. And +being precluded from accomplishing the desire upon which his heart was +set, he time and again gave way to vexation. When P'ing Erh, however, +remarked his conduct towards her on this occasion, she secretly resolved +within herself that what was said of him was indeed no idle rumour. But +as he had anticipated every one of her wants, and she saw moreover that +Hsi Jen had, for her special benefit, opened a box and produced two +articles of clothing, not much worn by her, she speedily drew near and +washed her face. + +Pao-yue stood by her side. "You must, dear girl, also apply a little +cosmetic and powder," she smiled; "otherwise you'll look as if you were +angry with lady Feng. It's her birthday, besides; and our old ancestor +has sent some one again to come and cheer you up." + +Hearing how reasonable his suggestions were, P'ing Erh readily went in +search of powder; but she failed to notice any about, so Pao-yue +hurriedly drew up to the toilet-table, and, removing the lid of a +porcelain box made at the "Hsuean" kiln, which contained a set of ten +small ladles, tuberose-like in shape, (for helping one's self to powder +with), he drew out one of them and handed it to P'ing Erh. "This isn't +lead powder," he smiled. "This is made of the seeds of red jasmine, well +triturated, and compounded with suitable first class ingredients." + +P'ing Erh emptied some on the palm of her hand. On examination, she +really found that it was light, clear, red and scented; perfect in all +four properties; that it was easy to apply evenly to the face, that it +kept moist, and that it differed from other kinds of powder, ordinarily +so rough. She subsequently noticed that the cosmetic too was not spread +on a sheet, but that it was contained in a tiny box of white jade, the +contents of which bore the semblance of rose-paste. + +"The cosmetic one buys in the market isn't clean;" Pao-yue remarked +smilingly. "Its colour is faint as well. But this is cosmetic of +superior quality. The juice was squeezed out, strained clear, mixed with +perfume of flowers and decocted. All you need do is to take some with +that hair-pin and rub it on your lips, that will be enough; and if you +dissolve some in a little water, and rub it on the palm of your hand, it +will be ample for you to cover your whole face with." + +P'ing Erh followed his directions and performed her toilette. She looked +exceptionally fresh and beautiful. A sweet fragrance pervaded her +cheeks. Pao-yue then cut, with a pair of bamboo scissors, a stalk, with +two autumn orchids, which had blossomed in a flower pot, and he pinned +it in her side-hair. But a maid was unexpectedly seen to enter the room, +sent by Li Wan to come and call her, so she quitted his quarters with +all possible despatch. + +Pao-yue had not so far been able to have his wishes to revel in P'ing +Erh's society gratified. P'ing Erh was furthermore a girl of a high +grade, most intelligent, most winsome, and unlike that sort of vulgar +and dull-minded beings, so that he cherished intense disgust against his +fate. + +The present occasion had been the anniversary of Chin Ch'uan-erh's +birth, and he had remained, in consequence, plunged in a disconsolate +frame of mind throughout the whole day. But, contrary to his +expectations, the incident eventually occurred, which afforded him, +after all, an opportunity to dangle in P'ing Erh's society and to +gratify to some small degree a particle of his wish. This had been a +piece of good fortune he so little expected would fall to his share +during the course of his present existence, that as he reclined on his +bed, his heart swelled with happiness and contentment. Suddenly, he +reflected that Chia Lien's sole thought was to make licentious pleasures +the means of gratifying his passions, and that he had no idea how to +show the least regard to the fair sex; and he mused that P'ing Erh was +without father or mother, brothers or sisters, a solitary being destined +to dance attendance upon a couple such as Chia Lien and his wife; that +Chia Lien was vulgar, and lady Feng haughty, but that she was gifted +nevertheless with the knack of splendidly managing things; and that +(P'ing Erh) had again to-day come across bitter sorrow, and that her +destiny was extremely unfortunate. + +At this stage of his reverie, he began to feel wounded and distressed. +When he rose once more to his feet, he noticed that the wine, which she +had spurted on the clothes, she had a few minutes back divested herself +of, had already half dried, and, taking up the iron, he smoothed them +and folded them nicely for her. He then discovered that she had left her +handkerchief behind, and that it still bore traces of tears, so throwing +it into the basin, he rinsed it and hung it up to dry, with feelings +bordering on joy as well as sadness. But after a short time spent in a +brown study, he too betook himself to the Tao Hsiang village for a chat; +and it was only when the lamps had been lit that he got up to take his +leave. + +P'ing Erh put up in Li Wan's quarters for the night. Lady Feng slept +with dowager lady Chia, while Chia Lien returned at a late hour to his +home. He found it however very lonely. Yet unable to go and call his +wife over, he had no alternative but to sleep as best he could for that +night. On the morrow, he remembered, as soon as he opened his eyes, the +occurrence of the previous day, and he fell a prey to such extreme +unhappiness that he could not be conscience-stricken enough. + +Madame Hsing pondered with solicitude on Chia Lien's drunken fit the day +before. The moment therefore it was light, she hastily crossed over, and +sent for Chia Lien to repair to dowager lady Chia's apartments. Chia +Lien was thus compelled to suppress all timidity and to repair to the +front part of the mansion and fall on his knees at the feet of his old +senior. + +"What was the matter?" inquired old lady Chia. + +"I really had too much wine yesterday," Chia Lien promptly answered with +a forced smile. "I must have given you a fright, worthy ancestor, so I +come to-day to receive condign punishment." + +"You mean fellow!" shouted dowager lady Chia, spitting at him +disdainfully. "You go and glut yourself with spirits, and, not to speak +of your not going to stretch yourself like a corpse and sleep it off, +you contrariwise start beating your wife! But that vixen Feng brags away +the whole day long, as if she were a human being as valiant as any +tyrant, and yet yesterday she got into such a funk that she presented a +woeful sight! Had it not been for me, you would have done her bodily +harm; and what would you feel like now?" + +Chia Lien was at heart full of a sense of injury, but he could not +master sufficient courage to say anything in his own defence. The only +course open to him was therefore to make a confession of fault. + +"Don't lady Feng and P'ing Erh possess the charms of handsome women?" +dowager lady Chia resumed. "And aren't you yet satisfied with them that +you must, of a day, go slyly prowling and gallavanting about, dragging +indiscriminately into your rooms frowsy and filthy people? Is it for the +sake of this sort of wenches that you beat your wife and belabour the +inmates of your quarters? You've nevertheless had the good fortune of +starting in life as the scion of a great family; and do you, with eyes +wide open, bring disgrace upon your own head? If you have any regard for +me, well, then get up and I'll spare you! And if you make your apologies +in a proper manner to your wife and take her home, I'll be satisfied. +But if you don't, just you clear out of this, for I won't even presume +to have any of your genuflexions!" + +Chia Lien took to heart the injunctions that fell on his ear. Espying +besides lady Feng standing opposite to him in undress, her eyes swollen +from crying, and her face quite sallow, without cosmetic or powder, he +thought her more lovable and charming than ever. "Wouldn't it be well," +he therefore mused, "that I should make amends, so that she and I may be +on friendly terms again and that I should win the good pleasure of my +old ancestor?" + +At the conclusion of his reflections, he forthwith put on a smile. +"After your advice, venerable senior," he said, "I couldn't be so bold +as not to accede to your wishes! But this is shewing her more indulgence +than ever!" + +"What nonsense!" exclaimed dowager lady Chia laughingly. "I am well +aware that with her extreme decorum she couldn't hurt any one's +susceptibilities. But should she, in the future, wrong you in any way, I +shall, of course, take the law into my own hands and bid you make her +submit to your authority and finish." + +Chia Lien, at this assurance, crawled up and made a bow to lady Feng. +"It was really my fault, so don't be angry, lady Secunda," he said. + +Every one in the room laughed. + +"Now, my girl Feng," lady Chia laughingly observed, "you are not to lose +your temper; for if you do, I'll lose mine too!" + +Continuing, she directed a servant to go and call P'ing Erh; and, on her +arrival, she advised lady Feng and Chia Lien to do all they could to +reconcile her. At the sight of P'ing Erh, Chia Lien showed less regard +than ever for the saying that 'a primary wife differs from a secondary +wife,' and the instant he heard old lady Chia's exhortation he drew near +her. "The injuries," he remarked, "to which you were subjected +yesterday, Miss, were entirely due to my shortcoming. If your lady hurt +your feelings, it was likewise all through me that the thing began. So I +express my regret; but, besides this, I tender my apologies as well on +behalf of your mistress." + +Saying this, he made another bow. This evoked a smile from dowager lady +Chia. Lady Feng, however, also laughed. Their old ancestor then desired +lady Feng to come and console P'ing Erh, but P'ing Erh hastily advanced +and knocked her head before lady Feng. "I do deserve death," she urged, +"for provoking your ladyship to wrath on the day of your birthday!" + +Lady Feng was at the moment pricked by shame and remorse for having so +freely indulged in wine the previous day as to completely have lost +sight of longstanding friendships, and for allowing her temper to so +thoroughly flare up as to lend a patient ear to the gossip of outsiders, +and unjustly put P'ing Erh out of countenance, so when she contrariwise +now saw her make advances, she felt both abashed and grieved, and, +promptly extending her arms, she dragged her up and gave way to tears. + +"I've waited upon your ladyship for all these years," P'ing Erh pleaded, +"and you've never so much as given me a single fillip; and yet, you beat +me yesterday. But I don't bear you any grudge, my lady, for it was that +wench, who was at the bottom of it all. Nor do I wonder that your +ladyship lost control over your temper." + +As she spoke, tears trickled down her cheeks too. + +"Escort those three home!" dowager lady Chia shouted to the servants. +"If any one of them makes the least allusion to the subject, come at +once and tell me of it; for without any regard as to who it may be, I +shall take my staff and give him or her a sound flogging." + +The trio then prostrated themselves before dowager lady Chia and the two +ladies, Mesdames Hsing and Wang. And assenting to her old mistress' +injunctions, an old nurse accompanied the three inmates to their +quarters. + +When they got home, lady Feng assured herself that there was no one +about. "How is it," she next asked, "that I'm like a queen of hell, or +like a 'Yakcha' demon? That courtesan swore at me and wished me dead; +and did you too help her to curse me? If I'm not nice a thousand days, +why, I must be nice on some one day! But if, poor me, I'm so bad as not +even to compare with a disorderly woman, how can I have the face to come +and spend my life with you here?" + +So speaking, she melted into tears. + +"Aren't you yet gratified?" cried Chia Lien. "Just reflect carefully who +was most to blame yesterday! And yet, in the presence of so many people, +it was I who, after all, fell to-day on my knees and made apologies as +well. You came in for plenty of credit, and do you now go on jabber, +jabber? Can it be that you'd like to make me kneel at your feet before +you let matters rest? If you try and play the bully beyond bounds, it +won't be a good thing for you!" + +To these arguments, lady Feng could find no suitable response. + +P'ing Erh then blurted out laughing. + +"She's all right again!" Chia Lien smiled. "But I'm really quite at a +loss what to do with this one." + +These words were still on his lips, when they saw a married woman walk +in. "Pao Erh's wife has committed suicide by hanging herself," she said. + +This announcement plunged both Chia Lien and lady Feng into great +consternation. Lady Feng, however, lost no time in putting away every +sign of excitement. "Dead, eh? What a riddance!" she shouted instead. +"What's the use of making such a fuss about a mere trifle?" + +But not long elapsed before she perceived Lin Chih-hsiao's wife make her +appearance in the room. "Pao Erh's wife has hung herself," she whispered +to lady Feng in a low tone of voice, "and her mother's relatives want to +take legal proceedings." + +Lady Feng gave a sardonic smile. "That's all right!" she observed. "I +myself was just thinking about lodging a complaint!" + +"I and the others tried to dissuade them," Lin Chih-hsiao's wife +continued. "And by having recourse to intimidation as well as to +promises of money, they, at last, agreed to our terms." + +"I haven't got a cash," lady Feng replied. "Had I even any money, I +wouldn't let them have it; so just let them go and lodge any charge they +fancy. You needn't either dissuade them or intimidate them. Let them go +and complain as much as they like. But if they fail to establish a case +against me, they'll, after all, be punished for trying to make the +corpse the means of extorting money out of me!" + +Lin Chih-hsiao's wife was in a dilemma, when she espied Chia Lien wink +at her. Comprehending his purpose, she readily quitted the apartment and +waited for him outside. + +"I'll go out and see what they're up to!" Chia Lien remarked. + +"Mind, I won't have you give them any money!" shouted lady Feng. + +Chia Lien straightway made his exit. He came and held consultation with +Lin Chih-hsiao, and then directed the servants to go and use some fair +means, others harsh. The matter was, however, not brought to any +satisfactory arrangement until he engaged to pay two hundred taels for +burial expenses. But so apprehensive was Chia Lien lest something might +occur to make the relatives change their ideas, that he also despatched +a messenger to lay the affair before Wang Tzu-t'eng, who bade a few +constables, coroners and other official servants come and help him to +effect the necessary preparations for the funeral. The parties concerned +did not venture, when they saw the precautions he had adopted, to raise +any objections, disposed though they may have been to try and bring +forward other arguments. Their sole alternative therefore was to +suppress their resentment, to refrain from further importunities and let +the matter drop into oblivion. + +Chia Lien then impressed upon Lin Chih-hsiao to insert the two hundred +taels in the accounts for the current year, by making such additions to +various items here and there as would suffice to clear them off, and +presented Pao Erh with money out of his own pocket as a crumb of +comfort, adding, "By and bye, I'll choose a nice wife for you." When Pao +Erh, therefore, came in for a share of credit as well as of hard cash, +he could not possibly do otherwise than practise contentment; and +forthwith, needless to dilate on this topic, he began to pay court to +Chia Lien as much as ever. + +In the inner rooms, lady Feng was, it is true, much cut up at heart; but +she strained every nerve to preserve an exterior of total indifference. +Noticing that there was no one present in the apartment, she drew P'ing +Erh to her. "I drank yesterday," she smiled, "a little more wine than +was good for me, so don't bear me a grudge. Where did I strike you, let +me see?" + +"You didn't really strike me hard!" P'ing Erh said by way of reply. + +But at this stage they heard some one remark that the ladies and young +ladies had come in. + +If you desire, reader, to know any of the subsequent circumstances, +peruse the account given in the following chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + Friends interchange words of friendship. + Tai-yue feels dull on a windy and rainy evening, and indites verses on + wind and rain. + + +Lady Feng, we will now go on to explain, was engaged in comforting P'ing +Erh, when upon unawares perceiving the young ladies enter the room, she +hastened to make them sit down while P'ing Erh poured the tea. + +"So many of you come to-day," lady Feng smiled, "that it looks as if +you'd been asked to come by invitation." + +T'an Ch'un was the first to speak. "We have," she smilingly rejoined, +"two objects in view, the one concerns me; the other cousin Quarta; but +among these are, besides, certain things said by our venerable senior." + +"What's up?" inquired lady Feng with a laugh. "Is it so urgent?" + +"Some time ago," T'an Ch'un proceeded laughingly, "we started a rhyming +club; but the first meeting was not quite a success. Every one of us +proved so soft-hearted! The rules therefore were set at naught. So I +can't help thinking that we must enlist your services as president of +the society and superintendent; for what is needed to make the thing +turn out well is firmness and no favour. The next matter is: cousin +Quarta explained to our worthy ancestor that the requisites for painting +the picture of the garden were short of one thing and another, and she +said: 'that there must still be,' she fancied, 'in the lower story of +the back loft some articles, remaining over from previous years, and +that we should go and look for them. That if there be any, they should +be taken out, but that in the event of their being none, some one should +be commissioned to go and purchase a supply of them.'" + +"I'm not up to doing anything wet or dry, (play on word 'shih,' +verses)," lady Feng laughed, "and would you have me, pray, come and +gorge?" + +"You may, it's possible, not be up to any of these things," T'an Ch'un +replied, "but we don't expect you to do anything! All we want you for is +to see whether there be among us any remiss or lazy, and to decide how +they should be punished, that's all." + +"You shouldn't try and play your tricks upon me!" lady Feng smiled, "I +can see through your little game! Is it that you wish me to act as +president and superintendent? No! it's as clear as day that your object +is that I should play the part of that copper merchant, who put in +contributions in hard cash. You have, at every meeting you hold, to each +take turn and pay the piper; but, as your funds are not sufficient, +you've invented this plan to come and inveigle me into your club, in +order to wheedle money out of me! This must be your little conspiracy!" + +These words evoked general laughter. "You've guessed right!" they +exclaimed. + +"In very truth," Li Wan smiled, "you're a creature with an intellect as +transparent as crystal, and with wits as clear as glass!" + +"You've got the good fortune of being their elder sister-in-law," lady +Feng smilingly remarked, "so the young ladies asked you to take them in +hand, and teach them how to read, and make them learn good manners and +needlework; and it's for you to guide and direct them in everything! But +here they start a rhyming society, for which not much can be needed, and +don't you concern yourself about them? We'll leave our worthy ancestor +and our Madame Wang aside; they are old people, but you receive each +moon an allowance of ten taels, which is twice as much as what any one +of us gets. More, our worthy ancestor and Madame Wang maintain that +being a widow, and having lost your home, you haven't, poor thing, +enough to live upon, and that you have a young child as well to bring +up; so they added with extreme liberality another ten taels to your +original share. Your allowance therefore is on a par with that of our +dear senior. But they likewise gave you a piece of land in the garden, +and you also come in for the lion's share of rents, collected from +various quarters, and of the annual allowances, apportioned at the close +of each year. Yet, you and your son don't muster, masters and servants, +ten persons in all. What you eat and what your wear comes, just as ever, +out of the general public fund, so that, computing everything together, +you get as much as four to five hundred taels. Were you then to +contribute each year a hundred or two hundred taels, to help them to +have some fun, how many years could this outlay continue? They'll very +soon be getting married, and, are they likely then to still expect you +to make any contributions? So loth are you, however, at present to fork +out any cash that you've egged them on to come and worry me! I'm quite +prepared to spend away until we've drained our chest dry! Don't I know +that the money isn't mine?" + +"Just you listen to her," Li Wan laughed. "I simply made one single +remark, and out she came with two cartloads of nonsensical trash! You're +as rough a diamond as a leg made of clay! All you're good for is to work +the small abacus, to divide a catty and to fraction an ounce, so +finicking are you! A nice thing you are, and yet, you've been lucky +enough to come to life as the child of a family of learned and high +officials. You've also made such a splendid match; and do you still +behave in the way you do? Had you been a son or daughter born in some +poverty-stricken, humble and low household, there's no saying what a +mean thing you wouldn't have been! Every one in this world has been +gulled by you; and yesterday you went so far as to strike P'ing Erh! But +it wasn't the proper thing for you to stretch out your hand on her! Was +all that liquor, forsooth, poured down a cur's stomach? My monkey was +up, and I meant to have taken upon myself to avenge P'ing Erh's +grievance; but, after mature consideration, I thought to myself, 'her +birthday is as slow to come round as a dog's tail grows to a point.' I +also feared lest our venerable senior might be made to feel unhappy; so +I did not come forward. Anyhow, my resentment isn't yet spent; and do +you come to-day to try and irritate me? You aren't fit to even pick up +shoes for P'ing Erh! You two should therefore change your respective +places!" + +These taunts created merriment among the whole party. + +"Oh!" hastily exclaimed lady Feng, laughingly, "I know everything! You +don't at all come to look me up on account of verses or paintings, but +simply to take revenge on P'ing Erh's behalf! I never had any idea that +P'ing Erh had such a backer as yourself to bolster her up! Had I known +it, I wouldn't have ventured to strike her, even though a spirit had +been tugging my arm! Miss P'ing come over and let me tender my apologies +to you, in the presence of your senior lady and the young ladies. Do +bear with me for having proved so utterly wanting in virtue, after I had +had a few drinks!" + +Every one felt amused by her insinuations. + +"What do you say?" Li Wan asked P'ing Erh smiling. "As for me, I think +it my bounden duty to vindicate your wrongs, before we let the matter +drop!" + +"Your remarks, ladies, may be spoken in jest," P'ing Erh smiled, "but I +am not worthy of such a fuss!" + +"What about worthy and unworthy?" Li Wan observed. "I'm here for you! +Quick, get the key, and let your mistress go and open the doors and hunt +up the things!" + +"Dear sister-in-law," lady Feng said with a smile, "you'd better go +along with them into the garden. I'm about to take the rice accounts in +hand and square them up with them. Our senior lady, Madame Hsing, has +also sent some one to call me; what she wants to tell me again, I can't +make out; but I must need go over for a turn. There are, besides, all +those extra clothes for you people to wear at the end of the year, and I +must get them ready and give them to be made!" + +"These matters are none of my business!" Li Wan laughingly answered. +"First settle my concerns so as to enable me to retire to rest, and +escape the bother of having all these girls at me!" + +"Dear sister-in-law," vehemently smiled lady Feng, "be good enough to +give me a little time! You've ever been the one to love me best, and how +is it that you have, on P'ing Erh's account, ceased to care for me? Time +and again have you impressed on my mind that I should, despite my +manifold duties, take good care of my health, and manage things in such +a way as to find a little leisure for rest, and do you now contrariwise +come to press the very life out of me? There's another thing besides. +Should such clothes as will be required at the end of the year by any +other persons be delayed, it won't matter; but, should those of the +young ladies be behind time, let the responsibility rest upon your +shoulders! And won't our old lady bear you a grudge, if you don't mind +these small things? But as for me, I won't utter a single word against +you, for, as I had rather bear the blame myself, I won't venture, to +involve you!" + +"Listen to her!" Li Wan smiled. "Hasn't she got the gift of the gab? But +let me ask you. Will you, after all, assume the control of this rhyming +society or not?" + +"What's this nonsense you're talking?" lady Feng laughed. "Were I not to +enter the society, and spend a little money, won't I be treated as a +rebel in this garden of Broad Vista? And will I then still think of +tarrying here to eat my head off? So soon as the day dawns to-morrow, +I'll arrive at my post, dismount from my horse, and, after kneeling +before the seals, my first act will be to give fifty taels for you to +quietly cover the expenses of your meetings. Yet after a few days, I +shall neither indite any verses, nor write any compositions, as I am +simply a rustic boor, nothing more! But it will be just the same whether +I assume the direction or not; for after you pocket my money, there's no +fear of your not driving me out of the place!" + +As these words dropped from her lips, one and all laughed again. + +"I'll now open the loft," proceeded lady Feng. "Should there be any of +the articles you want, you can tell the servants to bring them out for +you to look at them! If any will serve your purpose, keep them and use +them. If any be short, I'll bid a servant go and purchase them according +to your list. I'll go at once and cut the satin for the painting. As for +the plan, it isn't with Madame Wang; it's still over there, at Mr. Chia +Chen's. I tell you all this so that you should avoid going over to +Madame Wang's and getting into trouble! But I'll go and depute some one +to fetch it. I'll direct also a servant to take the satin and give it to +the gentlemen to size with alum; will this be all right?" + +Li Wan nodded her head by way of assent and smiled. "This will be +putting you to much trouble and inconvenience," she said. "But we must +really act as you suggest. Well in that case, go home all of you, and, +if after a time, she doesn't send the thing round, you can come again +and bully her." + +So saying, she there and then led off the young ladies, and was making +her way out, when lady Feng exclaimed: "It's Pao-yue and he alone, who +has given rise to all this fuss." + +Li Wan overheard her remark and hastily turned herself round. "We did, +in fact, come over," she smiled, "on account of Pao-yue, and we forgot, +instead all about him! The first meeting was deferred through him; but +we are too soft-hearted, so tell us what penalty to inflict on him!" + +Lady Feng gave herself to reflection. "There's only one thing to do," +she then remarked. "Just punish him by making him sweep the floor of +each of your rooms. This will do!" + +"Your verdict is faultless!" they laughed with one accord. + +While they conversed they were on the point of starting on their way +back, when they caught sight of a young maid walk in, supporting nurse +Lai. Lady Feng and her companions immediately rose to their feet, their +faces beaming with smiles. "Venerable mother!" they said, "do take a +seat!" They then in a body presented their congratulations to her. + +Nurse Lai seated herself on the edge of the stovecouch and returned +their smiles. "I'm to be congratulated," she rejoined, "but you, +mistresses, are to be congratulated as well; for had it had not been for +the bountiful grace displaced by you, mistresses, whence would this joy +of mine have come? Your ladyship sent Ts'ai Ko again yesterday to bring +me presents, but my grandson _kotowed_ at the door, with his face +turned towards the upper quarters." + +"When is he going to his post?" Li Wan inquired, with a smile. + +Nurse Lai heaved a sigh. "How can I interfere with them?" she answered. +"Why, I let them have their own way and start when they like! The other +day, they were at my house, and they prostrated themselves before me; +but I could find no complimentary remark to make to him, so, 'Sir!' I +said, 'putting aside that you're an official, you've lived in a reckless +and dissolute way, for now thirty years. You should, it's true, have +been people's bond-servant, but from the moment you came out of your +mother's womb, your master graciously accorded you your liberty. Thanks, +above, to the boundless blessings showered upon you by your lord, and, +below, to the favour of your father and mother, you're like a noble +scion and a gentleman, able to read and to write; and you have been +carried about by maids, old matrons, and nurses, just as if you had been +a very phoenix! But now that you've grown up and reached this age, do +you have the faintest notion of what the two words 'bond-servant' imply? +All you think of is to enjoy your benefits. But what hardships your +grandfather and father had to bear, in slaving away for two or three +generations, before they succeeded, after ever so many ups and downs, in +raising up a thing like you, you don't at all know! From your very +infancy, you ever ailed from this, or sickened for that, so that the +money that was expended on your behalf, would suffice to fuse into a +lifelike silver image of you! At the age of twenty, you again received +the bounty of your master in the shape of a promise to purchase official +status for you. But just mark, how many inmates of the principal branch +and main offspring have to endure privation, and suffer the pangs of +hunger! So beware you, who are the offshoot of a bond-servant, lest you +snap your happiness! After enjoying so many good things for a decade, by +the help of what spirits, and the agency of what devils have you, I +wonder, managed to so successfully entreat your master as to induce him +to bring you to the fore again and select you for office? Magistrates +may be minor officials, but their functions are none the less onerous. +In whatever district they obtain a post, they become the father and +mother of that particular locality. If you therefore don't mind your +business, and look after your duties in such a way as to acquit yourself +of your loyal obligations, to prove your gratitude to the state and to +show obedience and reverence to your lord, heaven, I fear, will not even +bear with you!'" + +Li Wan and lady Feng laughed. "You're too full of misgivings!" they +observed. "From what we can see of him, he's all right! Some years back, +he paid us a visit or two; but it's many years now that he hasn't put +his foot here. At the close of each year, and on birthdays, we've simply +seen his name brought in, that's all. The other day, that he came to +knock his head before our venerable senior and Madame Wang, we caught +sight of him in her courtyard yonder; and, got up in the uniform of his +new office, he looked so dignified, and stouter too than before. Now +that he has got this post, you should be quite happy; instead of that +you worry and fret about this and that! If he does get bad, why, he has +his father and mother yet to take care of him, so all you need do is to +be cheerful and content! When you've got time to spare, do get into a +chair and come in and have a game of cards and a chat with our worthy +senior; and who ever will have the face to hurt your feelings? Why, were +you go to your home, you'd also have there houses and halls, and who is +there who would not hold you in high respect? You're certainly, what one +would call, a venerable old dame!" + +P'ing Erh poured a cup of tea and brought it to her. Nurse Lai speedily +stood up. "You could have asked any girl to do this for me; it wouldn't +have mattered! But here I'm troubling you again!" + +Apologising, she resumed, sipping her tea the while: "My lady you're not +aware that young girls of this age must be in everything kept strictly +in hand. In the event of any license, they're sure to find time to kick +up trouble, and annoy their elders. Those, who know (how well they are +supervised), will then say that children are always up to mischief. But +those, who don't, will maintain that they take advantage of their +wealthy position to despise people; to the detriment as well of their +mistresses' reputation. How I regret that there's nothing that I can do +with him. Time after time, have I had to send for his father; and he has +been the better, after a scolding from him." Pointing at Pao-yue, "I +don't mind whether you feel angry with me for what I'm going to say," +she proceeded, "but if your father were to attempt now to exercise ever +so little control over you, your venerable grandmother is sure to try +and screen you. Yet, when in days gone by your worthy father was young, +he used to be beaten by your grandfather. Who hasn't seen him do it? But +did your father, in his youth resemble you, who have neither fear for +God or man? There was also our senior master, on the other side, Mr. +Chia She. He was, I admit, wild; but never such a crossgrained fellow as +yourself; and yet he too had his daily dose of the whip. There was +besides the father of your elder cousin Chen, of the eastern mansion. He +had a disposition that flared up like a fire over which oil is poured. +If anything was said, and he flew into a rage, why, talk about a son, it +was really as if he tortured a robber. From all I can now see and hear, +Mr. Chen keeps his son in check just as much as was the custom in old +days among his ancestors; the only thing is that he abides by it in some +respects, but not in others. Besides, he doesn't exercise the least +restraint over his own self, so is it to be wondered at if all his +cousins and nieces don't respect him? If you've got any sense about you, +you'll only be too glad that I speak to you in this wise; but if you +haven't, you mayn't be very well able to say anything openly to me, but +you'll inwardly abuse me, who knows to what extent!" + +As she reproved him, they saw Lai Ta's wife arrive. In close succession +came Chou Jui's wife along with Chang Ts'ai's wife to report various +matters. + +"A wife," laughed lady Feng, "has come to fetch her mother-in-law!" + +"I haven't come to fetch our old dame," Lai Ta's wife smilingly +rejoined, "but to inquire whether you, my lady and the young ladies, +will confer upon us the honour of your company?" + +When nurse Lai caught this remark, she smiled. "I've really grown quite +idiotic!" "What," she exclaimed, "was right and proper for me to say, I +didn't say, but I went on talking instead a lot of rot and rubbish! As +our relatives and friends are presenting their congratulations to our +grandson for having been selected to fill up that office of his, we find +ourselves under the necessity of giving a banquet at home. But I was +thinking that it wouldn't do, if we kept a feast going the whole day, +and we invited this one, and not that one. Reflecting also that it was +thanks to our master's vast bounty that we've come in for this +unforeseen glory and splendour, I felt quite agreeable to do anything, +even though it may entail the collapse of our household. I therefore +advised his father to give banquets on three consecutive days. That he +should, on the first, put up several tables, and a stage in our mean +garden, and invite your venerable dowager lady, the senior ladies, +junior ladies, and young ladies to come and have some distraction during +the day, and that he should have several tables laid on the stage in the +main pavilion outside, and request the senior and junior gentlemen to +confer upon us the lustre of their presence. That for the second day, we +should ask our relatives and friends; and that for the third, we should +invite our companions from the two mansions. In this way, we'll have +three days' excitement, and, by the boundless favour of our master, +we'll have the benefit of enjoying the honour of your society." + +"When is it to be?" Li Wan and lady Feng inquired, smilingly. "As far as +we are concerned, we'll feel it our duty to come. And we hope that our +worthy senior may feel in the humour to go. But there's no saying for +certain!" + +"The day chosen is the fourteenth," Lai Ta's wife eagerly replied. "Just +come for the sake of our old mother-in-law!" + +"I can't tell about the others," lady Feng explained with a laugh, "but +as for me I shall positively come. I must however tell you beforehand +that I've no congratulatory presents to give you. Nor do I know anything +about tips to players or others. As soon as I shall have done eating, I +shall bolt, so don't laugh at me." + +"Fiddlesticks!" Lai Ta's wife laughed. "Were your ladyship disposed, you +could well afford to give us twenty and thirty thousand taels." + +"I'm off now to invite our venerable mistress," nurse Lai smilingly +remarked. "And if her ladyship also agrees to come, I shall deem it a +greater honour than ever conferred upon me." + +Having said this, she went on to issue some injunctions; after which, +she got up to go, when the sight of Chou Jui's wife reminded her of +something. + +"Of course!" she consequently observed. "I've got one more question to +ask you, my lady. What did sister-in-law Chou's son do to incur blame, +that he was packed off, and his services dispensed with?" + +"I was just about to tell your daughter-in-law," lady Feng answered +smilingly, after listening to her question, "but with so many things to +preoccupy me, it slipped from my memory! When you get home, +sister-in-law Lai, explain to that old husband of yours that we won't +have his, (Chou Jui's), son kept in either of the mansions; and that he +can tell him to go about his own business!" + +Lai Ta's wife had no option but to express her acquiescence. Chou Jui's +wife however speedily fell on her knees and gave way to urgent +entreaties. + +"What is it all about?" nurse Lai shouted. "Tell me and let me determine +the right and wrong of the question." + +"The other day," lady Feng observed, "that my birthday was celebrated, +that young fellow of his got drunk, before the wine ever went round; and +when the old dame, over there, sent presents, he didn't go outside to +give a helping hand, but squatted down, instead, and upbraided people. +Even the presents he wouldn't carry inside. And it was only after the +two girls had come indoors that he eventually got the servant-lads and +brought them in. Those lads were however careful enough in what they +did, but as for him, he let the box, he held, slip from his hands, and +bestrewed the whole courtyard with cakes. When every one had left, I +deputed Ts'ai Ming to go and talk to him; but he then turned round and +gave Ts'ai Ming a regular scolding. So what's the use of not bundling +off a disorderly rascal like him, who neither shows any regard for +discipline or heaven?" + +"I was wondering what it could be!" nurse Lai ventured. "Was it really +about this? My lady, listen to me! If he has done anything wrong, thrash +him and scold him, until you make him mend his ways, and finish with it! +But to drive him out of the place, will never, by any manner of means, +do. He isn't, besides, to be treated like a child born in our household. +He is at present employed as Madame Wang's attendant, so if you carry +out your purpose of expelling him, her ladyship's face will be put to +the blush. My idea is that you should, my lady, give him a lesson by +letting him have several whacks with a cane so as to induce him to +abstain from wine in the future. If you then retain him in your service +as hitherto he'll be all right! If you don't do it for his mother's +sake; do it at least for that of Madame Wang!" + +After lending an ear to her arguments, lady Feng addressed herself to +Lai Ta's wife. "Well, in that case," she said, "call him over to-morrow +and give him forty blows; and don't let him after this touch any more +wine!" + +Lai Ta's wife promised to execute her directions. Chou Jui's wife then +kotowed and rose to her feet. But she also persisted upon prostrating +herself before nurse Lai; and only desisted when Lai Ta's wife pulled +her up. But presently the trio took their departure, and Li Wan and her +companions sped back into the garden. + +When evening came, lady Feng actually bade the servants go and look +(into the loft), and when they discovered a lot of painting materials, +which had been put away long ago, they brought them into the garden. +Pao-ch'ai and her friends then selected such as they deemed suitable. +But as they only had as yet half the necessaries they required, they +drew out a list of the other half and sent it to lady Feng, who, +needless for us to particularise, had the different articles purchased, +according to the specimens supplied. + +By a certain day, the silk had been sized outside, a rough sketch drawn, +and both returned into the garden. Pao-yue therefore was day after day to +be found over at Hsi Ch'un's, doing his best to help her in her hard +work. But T'an Ch'un, Li Wan, Ying Ch'un, Pao-ch'ai and the other girls +likewise congregated in her quarters, and sat with her when they were at +leisure, as they could, in the first place, watch the progress of the +painting, and as secondly they were able to conveniently see something +of each other. + +When Pao-ch'ai perceived how cool and pleasant the weather was getting, +and how the nights were beginning again to gradually draw out, she came +and found her mother, and consulted with her, until they got some +needlework ready. Of a day, she would cross over to the quarters of +dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang, and twice pay her salutations, but, +she could not help as well amusing them and sitting with them to keep +them company. When free, she would come and see her cousins in the +garden, and have, at odd times, a chat with them, so having, during +daylight no leisure to speak of, she was wont, of a night, to ply her +needle by lamplight, and only retire to sleep after the third watch had +come and gone. + +As for Tai-yue, she had, as a matter of course, a relapse of her +complaint regularly every year, soon after the spring equinox and autumn +solstice. But she had, during the last autumn, also found her +grandmother Chia in such buoyant spirits, that she had walked a little +too much on two distinct occasions, and naturally fatigued herself more +than was good for her. Recently, too, she had begun to cough and to feel +heavier than she had done at ordinary times, so she never by any chance +put her foot out of doors, but remained at home and looked after her +health. When at times, dullness crept over her, she longed for her +cousins to come and chat with her and dispel her despondent feelings. +But whenever Pao-ch'ai or any of her cousins paid her a visit, she +barely uttered half a dozen, words, before she felt quite averse to any +society. Yet one and all made every allowance for her illness. And as +she had ever been in poor health and not strong enough to resist any +annoyance, they did not find the least fault with her, despite even any +lack of propriety she showed in playing the hostess with them, or any +remissness on her part in observing the prescribed rules of etiquette. + +Pao-ch'ai came, on this occasion to call on her. The conversation +started on the symptoms of her ailment. "The various doctors, who visit +this place," Pao-ch'ai consequently remarked, "may, it's true, be all +very able practitioners; but you take their medicines and don't reap the +least benefit! Wouldn't it be as well therefore to ask some other person +of note to come and see you? And could he succeed in getting you all +right, wouldn't it be nice? Here you year by year ail away throughout +the whole length of spring and summer; but you're neither so old nor so +young, so what will be the end of it? Besides, it can't go on for ever." + +"It's no use," Tai-yue rejoined. "I know well enough that there's no cure +for this complaint of mine! Not to speak of when I'm unwell, why even +when I'm not, my state is such that one can see very well that there's +no hope!" + +Pao-ch'ai shook her head. "Quite so!" she ventured. "An old writer says: +'Those who eat, live.' But what you've all along eaten hasn't been +enough to strengthen your energies and physique. This isn't a good +thing!" + +Tai-yue heaved a sigh. "Whether I'm to live or die is all destiny!" she +said. "Riches and honours are in the hands of heaven; and human strength +cannot suffice to forcibly get even them! But my complaint this year +seems to be far worse than in past years, instead of any better." + +While deploring her lot, she coughed two or three times. "It struck me," +Pao-ch'ai said, "that in that prescription of yours I saw yesterday +there was far too much ginseng and cinnamon. They are splendid tonics, +of course, but too many heating things are not good. I think that the +first urgent thing to do is to ease the liver and give tone to the +stomach. When once the fire in the liver is reduced, it will not be able +to overcome the stomach; and, when once the digestive organs are free of +ailment, drink and food will be able to give nutriment to the human +frame. As soon as you get out of bed, every morning, take one ounce of +birds' nests, of superior quality, and five mace of sugar candy and +prepare congee with them in a silver kettle. When once you get into the +way of taking this decoction, you'll find it far more efficacious than +medicines; for it possesses the highest virtue for invigorating the +vagina and bracing up the physique." + +"You've certainly always treated people with extreme consideration," +sighed Tai-yue, "but such a supremely suspicious person am I that I +imagined that you inwardly concealed some evil design! Yet ever since +the day on which you represented to me how unwholesome it was to read +obscene books, and you gave me all that good advice, I've felt most +grateful to you! I've hitherto, in fact, been mistaken in my opinion; +and the truth of the matter is that I remained under this misconception +up to the very present. But you must carefully consider that when my +mother died, I hadn't even any sisters or brothers; and that up to this +my fifteenth year there has never been a single person to admonish me as +you did the other day. Little wonder is it if that girl Yuen speaks well +of you! Whenever, in former days, I heard her heap praise upon you, I +felt uneasy in my mind, but, after my experiences of yesterday, I see +how right she was. When you, for instance, began to tell me all those +things, I didn't forgive you at the time, but, without worrying yourself +in the least about it you went on, contrariwise, to tender me the advice +you did. This makes it evident that I have laboured under a mistaken +idea! Had I not made this discovery the other day, I wouldn't be +speaking like this to your very face to-day. You told me a few minutes +back to take bird's nest congee; but birds' nests are, I admit, easily +procured; yet all on account of my sickly constitution and of the +relapses I have every year of this complaint of mine, which amounts to +nothing, doctors have had to be sent for, medicines, with ginseng and +cinnamon, have had to be concocted, and I've given already such trouble +as to turn heaven and earth topsy-turvey; so were I now to start again a +new fad, by having some birds' nests congee or other prepared, our +worthy senior, Madame Wang, and lady Feng, will, all three of them, have +no objection to raise; but that posse of matrons and maids below will +unavoidably despise me for my excessive fussiness! Just notice how every +one in here ogles wildly like tigers their prey; and stealthily says one +thing and another, simply because they see how fond our worthy ancestor +is of both Pao-yue and lady Feng, and how much more won't they do these +things with me? What's more, I'm not a pucker mistress. I've really come +here as a mere refugee, for I had no one to sustain me and no one to +depend upon. They already bear me considerable dislike; so much so, that +I'm still quite at a loss whether I should stay or go; and why should I +make them heap execrations upon me?" + +"Well, in that case," Pao-ch'ai observed, "I'm too in the same plight as +yourself!" + +"How can you compare yourself with me?" Tai-yue exclaimed. "You have a +mother; and a brother as well! You've also got some business and land in +here, and, at home, you can call houses' and fields your own. It's only +therefore the ties of relationship, which make you stay here at all. +Neither are you in anything whether large or small, in their debt for +one single cash or even half a one; and when you want to go, you're at +liberty to go. But I, have nothing whatever that I can call my own. Yet, +in what I eat, wear, and use, I am, in every trifle, entirely on the +same footing as the young ladies in their household, so how ever can +that mean lot not despise me out and out?" + +"The only extra expense they'll have to go to by and bye," Pao-ch'ai +laughed, "will be to get one more trousseau, that's all. And for the +present, it's too soon yet to worry yourself about that!" + +At this insinuation, Tai-yue unconsciously blushed scarlet. "One treats +you," she smiled, "as a decent sort of person, and confides in you the +woes of one's heart, and, instead of sympathising with me, you make me +the means of raising a laugh!" + +"Albeit I raise a laugh at your expense," Pao-ch'ai rejoined, a smile +curling her lips, "what I say is none the less true! But compose your +mind! I'll try every day that I'm here to cheer you up; so come to me +with every grievance or trouble, for I shall, needless to say, dispel +those that are within my power. Notwithstanding that I have a brother, +you yourself know well enough what he's like! All I have is a mother, so +I'm just a trifle better off than you! We can therefore well look upon +ourselves as being in the same boat, and sympathise with each other. You +have, besides, plenty of wits about you, so why need you give way to +groans, as did Ssu Ma-niu? What you said just now is quite right; but, +you should worry and fret about as little and not as much as you can. On +my return home, to-morrow, I'll tell my mother; and, as I think there +must be still some birds' nests in our house, we'll send you several +ounces of them. You can then tell the servant-maids to prepare some for +you at whatever time you want every day; and you'll thus be suiting your +own convenience and be giving no trouble or annoyance to any one." + +"The things are, of themselves, of little account," eagerly responded +Tai-yue laughingly. "What's difficult to find is one with as much feeling +as yourself." + + +"What's there in this worth speaking about?" Pao-ch'ai said. "What +grieves me is that I fail to be as nice as I should be with those I come +across. But, I presume, you feel quite done up now, so I'll be off!" + +"Come in the evening again," Tai-yue pressed her, "and have a chat with +me." + +While assuring her that she would come, Pao-ch'ai walked out, so let us +leave her alone for the present. + +Tai-yue, meanwhile, drank a few sips of thin congee, and then once more +lay herself down on her bed. But before the sun set, the weather +unexpectedly changed, and a fine drizzling rain set in. So gently come +the autumn showers that dull and fine are subject to uncertain +alternations. The shades of twilight gradually fell on this occasion. +The heavens too got so overcast as to look deep black. Besides the +effect of this change on her mind, the patter of the rain on the bamboo +tops intensified her despondency, and, concluding that Pao-ch'ai would +be deterred from coming, she took up, in the lamp light, the first book +within her reach, which turned out to be the 'Treasury of Miscellaneous +Lyrics.' Finding among these 'the Pinings of a maiden in autumn,' 'the +Anguish of Separation,' and other similar poems, Tai-yue felt unawares +much affected; and, unable to restrain herself from giving vent to her +feelings in writing, she, there and then, improvised the following +stanza, in the same strain as the one on separation; complying with the +rules observed in the 'Spring River-Flower' and 'Moonlight Night.' These +verses, she then entitled 'the Poem on the Autumn evening, when wind and +rain raged outside the window.' Their burden was: + + In autumn, flowers decay; herbage, when autumn comes, doth yellow + turn. + On long autumnal nights, the autumn lanterns with bright radiance + burn. + As from my window autumn scenes I scan, autumn endless doth seem. + This mood how can I bear, when wind and rain despondency enhance? + How sudden break forth wind and rain, and help to make the autumntide! + Fright snaps my autumn dreams, those dreams which under my lattice I + dreamt. + A sad autumnal gloom enclasps my heart, and drives all sleep away! + In person I approach the autumn screen to snuff the weeping wick. + The tearful candles with a flickering flame consume on their short + stands. + They stir up grief, dazzle my eyes, and a sense of parting arouse. + In what family's courts do not the blasts of autumn winds intrude? + And where in autumn does not rain patter against the window-frames? + The silken quilt cannot ward off the nipping force of autumn winds. + The drip of the half drained water-clock impels the autumn rains. + A lull for few nights reigned, but the wind has again risen in + strength. + By the lantern I weep, as if I sat with some one who must go. + The small courtyard, full of bleak mist, is now become quite desolate. + With quick drip drops the rain on the distant bamboos and vacant + sills. + What time, I wonder, will the wind and rain their howl and patter + cease? + The tears already I have shed have soaked through the window gauze. + +After scanning her verses, she flung the pen aside, and was just on the +point of retiring to rest, when a waiting-maid announced that 'master +Secundus, Mr. Pao-yue, had come.' Barely was the announcement out of her +lips, than Pao-yue appeared on the scene with a large bamboo hat on his +head, and a wrapper thrown over his shoulders. Of a sudden, a smile +betrayed itself on Tai-yue's lips. "Where does this fisherman come from?" +she exclaimed. + +"Are you better to-day?" Pao-yue inquired with alacrity. "Have you had +any medicines? How much rice have you had to eat to-day?" + +While plying her with questions, he took off the hat and divested +himself of the wrapper; and, promptly raising the lamp with one hand, he +screened it with the other and threw its rays upon Tai-yue's face. Then +straining his eyes, he scrutinised her for a while. "You look better +to-day," he smiled. + +As soon as he threw off his wrapper, Tai-yue noticed that he was clad in +a short red silk jacket, the worse for wear; that he was girded with a +green sash, and that, about his knees, his nether garments were visible, +made of green thin silk, brocaded with flowers. Below these, he wore +embroidered gauze socks, worked all over with twisted gold thread, and a +pair of shoes ornamented with butterflies and clusters of fallen +flowers. + +"Above, you fight shy of the rain," Tai-yue remarked, "but aren't these +shoes and socks below afraid of rain? Yet they're quite clean!" + +"This suit is complete!" Pao-yue smiled. "I've got a pair of crab-wood +clogs, I put on to come over; but I took them off under the eaves of the +verandah." + +Tai-yue's attention was then attracted by the extreme fineness and +lightness of the texture of his wrapper and hat, which were unlike those +sold in the market places. "With what grass are they plaited?" she +consequently asked. "It would be strange if you didn't, with this sort +of things on, look like a very hedgehog!" + +"These three articles are a gift from the Prince of Pei Ching," Pao-yue +answered. "Ordinarily, when it rains, he too wears this kind of outfit +at home. But if it has taken your fancy, I'll have a suit made for you. +There's nothing peculiar about the other things, but this hat is funny! +The crown at the top is movable; so if you want to wear a hat, during +snowy weather in wintertime, you pull off the bamboo pegs, and remove +the crown, and there you only have the circular brim. This is worn, when +it snows, by men and women alike. I'll give you one therefore to wear in +the wintry snowy months." + +"I don't want it!" laughed Tai-yue. "Were I to wear this sort of thing, +I'd look like one of those fisherwomen, one sees depicted in pictures or +represented on the stage!" + +Upon reaching this point, she remembered that there was some connection +between her present remarks and the comparison she had some time back +made with regard to Pao-yue, and, before she had time to indulge in +regrets, a sense of shame so intense overpowered her that the colour +rushed to her face, and, leaning her head on the table, she coughed and +coughed till she could not stop. Pao-yue, however, did not detect her +embarrassment; but catching sight of some verses lying on the table, he +eagerly snatched them up and conned them from beginning to end. +"Splendid!" he could not help crying. But the moment Tai-yue heard his +exclamation, she speedily jumped to her feet, and clutched the verses +and burnt them over the lamp. + +"I've already committed them sufficiently to memory!" Pao-yue laughed. + +"I want to have a little rest," Tai-yue said, "so please get away; come +back again to-morrow." + +At these words, Pao-yue drew back his hand, and producing from his breast +a gold watch about the size of a walnut, he looked at the time. The hand +pointed between eight and nine p.m.; so hastily putting it away, "You +should certainly retire to rest!" he replied. "My visit has upset you. +I've quite tired you out this long while." With these apologies, he +threw the wrapper over him, put on the rain-hat and quitted the room. +But turning round, he retraced his steps inside. "Is there anything you +fancy to eat?" he asked. "If there be, tell me, and I'll let our +venerable ancestor know of it to-morrow as soon as it's day. Won't I +explain things clearer than any of the old matrons could?" + +"Let me," rejoined Tai-yue smiling, "think in the night. I'll let you +know early to-morrow. But harken, it's raining harder than it did; so be +off at once! Have you got any attendants, or no?" + +"Yes!" interposed the two matrons. "There are servants to wait on him. +They're outside holding his umbrella and lighting the lanterns." + +"Are they lighting lanterns with this weather?" laughed Tai-yue. + +"It won't hurt them!" Pao-yue answered. "They're made of sheep's horn, so +they don't mind the rain." + +Hearing this, Tai-yue put back her hand, and, taking down an ornamented +glass lantern in the shape of a ball from the book case, she asked the +servants to light a small candle and bring it to her; after which, she +handed the lantern to Pao-yue. "This," she said, "gives out more light +than the others; and is just the thing for rainy weather." + +"I've also got one like it." Pao-yue replied. "But fearing lest they +might slip, fall down and break it, I did not have it lighted and +brought round." + +"What's of more account," Tai-yue inquired, "harm to a lantern or to a +human being? You're not besides accustomed to wearing clogs, so tell +them to walk ahead with those lanterns. This one is as light and handy +as it is light-giving; and is really adapted for rainy weather, so +wouldn't it be well if you carried it yourself? You can send it over to +me to-morrow! But, were it even to slip from your hand, it wouldn't +matter much. How is it that you've also suddenly developed this +money-grabbing sort of temperament? It's as bad as if you ripped your +intestines to secrete pearls in." + +After these words, Pao-yue approached her and took the lantern from her. +Ahead then advanced two matrons, with umbrellas and sheep horn lanterns, +and behind followed a couple of waiting-maids also with umbrellas. +Pao-yue handed the glass lantern to a young maid to carry, and, +supporting himself on her shoulder, he straightway wended his steps on +his way back. + +But presently arrived an old servant from the Heng Wu court, provided as +well with an umbrella and a lantern, to bring over a large bundle of +birds' nests, and a packet of foreign sugar, pure as powder, and white +as petals of plum-blossom and flakes of snow. "These," she said, "are +much better than what you can buy. Our young lady sends you word, miss, +to first go on with these. When you've done with them, she'll let you +have some more." + +"Many thanks for the trouble you've taken!" Tai-yue returned for answer; +and then asked her to go and sit outside and have a cup of tea. + +"I won't have any tea," the old servant smiled. "I've got something else +to attend to." + +"I'm well aware that you've all got plenty in hand," Tai-yue resumed with +a smiling countenance. "But the weather being cool now and the nights +long, it's more expedient than ever to establish two things: a night +club and a gambling place." + +"I won't disguise the fact from you, miss," the old servant laughingly +observed, "that I've managed this year to win plenty of money. Several +servants have, under any circumstances, to do night duty; and, as any +neglect in keeping watch wouldn't be the right thing, isn't it as well +to have a night club, as one can sit on the look-out and dispel dullness +as well? But it's again my turn to play the croupier to-day, so I must +be getting along to the place, as the garden gate, will, by this time, +be nearly closing!" + +This rejoinder evoked a laugh from Tai-yue. "I've given you all this +bother," she remarked, "and made you lose your chances of getting money, +just to bring these things in the rain." And calling a servant she bade +her present her with several hundreds of cash to buy some wine with, to +drive the damp away. + +"I've uselessly put you again, miss, to the expense of giving me a tip +for wine," the old servant smiled. But saying this she knocked her +forehead before her; and issuing outside, she received the money, after +which, she opened her umbrella, and trudged back. + +Tzu Chuean meanwhile put the birds' nests away; and removing afterwards +the lamps, she lowered the portieres and waited upon Tai-yue until she +lay herself down to sleep. + +While she reclined all alone on her pillow, Tai-yue thought gratefully of +Pao-ch'ai. At one moment, she envied her for having a mother and a +brother; and at another, she mused that with the friendliness Pao-yue had +ever shown her they were bound to be the victims of suspicion. But the +pitter-patter of the rain, dripping on the bamboo tops and banana +leaves, fell on her ear; and, as a fresh coolness penetrated the +curtain, tears once more unconsciously trickled down her cheeks. In this +frame of mind, she continued straight up to the fourth watch, when she +at last gradually dropped into a sound sleep. + +For the time, however, there is nothing that we can add. So should you, +reader, desire to know any subsequent details, peruse what is written in +the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + + An improper man with difficulty keeps from improprieties. + The maid, Yuean Yang, vows to break off the marriage match. + + +Lin Tai-yue, to resume our story, dropped off gradually to sleep about +the close of the fourth watch. As there is therefore nothing more that +we can for the present say about her, let us take up the thread of our +narrative with lady Feng. + +Upon hearing that Madame Hsing wanted to see her, she could not make out +what it could be about, so hurriedly putting on some extra things on her +person and head, she got into a carriage and crossed over. + +Madame Hsing at once dismissed every attendant from her suite of +apartments. "I sent for you," she began, addressing herself to lady +Feng, in a confidential tone, "not for anything else, but on account of +something which places me on the horns of a dilemma. My husband has +entrusted me with a job; and being quite at my wits' ends how to act, +I'd like first to consult with you. My husband has taken quite a fancy +to Yuean Yang, who is in our worthy senior's rooms; so much so, that he's +desirous to get her into his quarters as a secondary wife. He has +deputed me therefore to ask her of our venerable ancestor. I know that +this is quite an ordinary matter. Yet I can't help fearing that our +worthy senior may refuse to give her. But do you perchance see your way +to bring this concern about?" + +Lady Feng listened to her. "You shouldn't, I say, go and bang your head +against a nail!" she then vehemently exclaimed. "Were our old ancestor +separated from Yuean Yang, she wouldn't even touch her rice! How ever +could she reconcile herself to part from her? Besides, our worthy senior +has time and again said, in the course of a chat, 'that she can't see +the earthly use of a man well up in years, as your lord and master is, +having here one concubine, and there another? That cooping them up in +his rooms, is a mere waste of human beings. That he neglects his +constitution and doesn't husband it; and that he doesn't either attend +diligently to his official duties, but spends his whole days in boozing +with his young concubines. When your ladyship hears these nice doings of +his, don't you feel enamoured with that fine gentleman of ours? Were he +even to try, at this juncture, to beat a retreat, he couldn't, I fear, +effectively do so. Yet, instead of (making an effort to turn tail), he +wants to go and dig the tiger's nostrils with a blade of straw. Don't, +my lady, be angry with me; but I daren't undertake the errand. It's +clear as day that it will be a wild goose chase. What's more, it will do +him no good; but will, contrariwise, heap disgrace upon his own head! +Our Mr. Chia She is now so stricken in years, that in all his actions he +unavoidably behaves somewhat as a dotard. It would be well therefore for +your ladyship to advise him what to do. It isn't as if he were in the +prime of life to be able to do all these things with impunity! He's got +at present a whole array of brothers, nieces, sons, and grandsons; and +should he still go on in this wild sort of way, how will he be able to +face any of them?" + +Madame Hsing gave a sardonic smile. "There are endless wealthy families +with three and four concubines," she said, "and is it in ours that such +a thing won't do? But were I even to tender him as much advice as I can, +it isn't at all likely that he'll abide by it! Even though that maid be +one beloved by our venerable senior, it doesn't follow that she'll very +well be able to give a rebuff to a hoary-bearded elderly son, and, +erewhile, an official, were he to express a wish to have her as an +inmate of his household! I sent for you for no other purpose than to +deliberate with you, and here you take the initiative and enumerate a +whole array of shortcomings. But is there any reason why I should +commission you to go? Of course I'll go and speak to her! You make a +bold statement that I don't give him any good counsel; but don't you yet +know that with a disposition, such as his, he rushes, before I can very +well open my lips to advise him, into a tantrum with me?" + +Lady Feng was well alive to the fact that Madame Hsing was, by nature, +simple and weak-minded, and that all she knew was to adulate Chia She so +as to ensure her own safety. That she was, in the next place, ever +ready, so greedy was she, to grasp as much hard cash and as many +effects, as she could lay hold of, for her own private gain. That she +left all family matters, irrespective of important or unimportant, under +the sole control of Chia She; but that, whenever anything turned up, +involving any receipts or payments, she extorted an unusual percentage, +the moment the money passed through her clutches, giving out as a +pretence: 'Well Chia She is so extravagant that I have to interfere and +effect sufficient economies to enable us to make up our deficits.' And +that she would not trust any one, whether son, daughter or servant, nor +lend an ear to a single word of remonstrance. When she therefore now +heard Madame Hsing speak as she did, she concluded that she must be in +another of her perverse moods, and that any admonitions would be of no +avail. So hastily forcing a smile: "My lady," she observed, "you're +perfectly right in your remarks! But how long can I have lived, and what +discrimination can I boast of? It seems to me that if a father and +mother do not bestow, not a mere servant-girl like she is, but a living +jewel of the size of her, on one like Mr. Chia She, to whom are they +likely to give her? How can one give faith to words spoken behind one's +back? So what a fool I was (in cramming what I heard down my throat)! +Just take our Mr. Secundus, (my husband), as an instance. If ever he +does anything to incur blame, Mr. Chia She and you, my lady, feel so +wrath with him as to only wish you could lay hands upon him there and +then and give him such a blow as would kill him downright, but the +moment you set eyes on his face, your whole resentment vanishes, and lo, +you again let him have, as of old, everything, and anything, much though +both of you might relish it in your hearts! Our worthy ancestor will +certainly therefore behave in the present instance, with equal +liberality, towards Mr. Chia She! So if her ladyship feels in the humour +to-day, she'll let him have her, I fancy, at once this very day, if he +makes the proper advances. But I'll go ahead and coax our venerable +senior; and, when your ladyship comes over, I'll find some pretence to +get out of the way, and take along with me those too who may be present +in her rooms, so as to make it convenient for you to broach the subject. +If she gives her, so much the better. But if even she doesn't, it won't +matter; for none of the inmates will have any idea what the object of +your mission could have been." + +After listening to her suggestion, Madame Hsing began again to feel in a +happier frame of mind. "My idea is," she observed, "that I shouldn't +start by mentioning anything to our venerable senior, for were she to +say that she wouldn't give her, the matter would be simply quashed on +the head. I can't help thinking that I should first and foremost quietly +approach Yuean Yang on the subject. She will, of course, feel extremely +ashamed, but when I explain everything minutely to her, she'll certainly +have nothing to say against the proposal, and everything will be all +right. I can then speak to our old senior; and, despite any desire on +her part not to accede to our wishes, she won't be able to put the girl +off, provided she herself be willing; for as the adage says: 'If a +person wishes to go, it's no use trying to keep him.' Thus needless to +say, the whole thing will be satisfactorily settled!" + +"You're really shrewd in your devices, my lady!" lady Feng smilingly +ejaculated. "This is perfect in every respect! For without taking Yuean +Yang into account, what girl does not long to rise high, or hope to +exalt herself, or think of pushing herself forward above the rest as to +cast away the chances of becoming half a mistress, and prefer instead +being a maid, and merely becoming by and bye the mate of some +servant-lad?" + +"Quite so!" Madame Hsing smiled. "But let's put Yuean Yang aside. Who is +there, even among the various elderly waiting-maids, who look after the +house, who wouldn't be only too willing to step into these shoes? You'd +better then go ahead. But, mind, don't let the cat out of the bag! I'll +join you as soon as I can finish my evening meal." + +"Yuean Yang," thereupon secretly reflected lady Feng, "has always been an +extremely shrewd-minded girl; to such a degree, that there is +notwithstanding all our arguments, no saying positively whether she'll +accept or refuse. So were I to go ahead, and Madame Hsing to follow me +by and bye, there won't be any occasion for her to grumble or complain, +so long as she assents; but, if she doesn't, why, Madame Hsing, who is +so suspicious a creature, will possibly imagine that I've been gassing +with her, and been the means of making her put on side and assume high +airs. When Madame Hsing finds then that my conjectures have turned out +true again, her shame will be converted into anger, and she'll so vent +her spite upon me that I shall, after all, be put in a false position. +Would it not be better then that she and I should go together; for, if +she says 'yes,' I'll be all right; and, if she replies 'no,' I'll be on +the safe side; and no suspicion, of any kind, will fall upon me!" + +At the close of her reflections, "As I was about to cross over here," +she remarked laughingly, "our aunt yonder sent us two baskets of quails, +and I gave orders that they should be fried, with the idea that they +should be brought to your ladyship, in time for you to have some at your +evening repast. Just as I was stepping inside the main entrance, I saw +the servant-boys carrying your curricle; they said that it was your +ladyship's vehicle, that it had cracked, and that they were taking it to +be repaired. Wouldn't it be as well then that you should now come in my +carriage, for it will be better for you and me to get there together?" + +At this suggestion, Madame Hsing directed her servants to come and +change her costume. Lady Feng quickly waited upon her, and in a while +the two ladies got into one and the same curricle and drove over. + +"My lady," lady Feng went on to say, "it would be well for you to look +up our worthy senior, for were I to accompany you, and her ladyship to +ask me what was the object of my visit, it would be rather awkward. The +best way is for your ladyship to go first, and I'll join you, as soon as +I divest myself of my fine clothes." + +Madame Hsing noticed how reasonable her proposal was, and she readily +betook herself to old lady Chia's quarters. But after a chat with her +senior, she quitted the apartment, under the pretence that she was going +to Madame Wang's rooms. Then making her exit by the back door, she +passed in front of Yuean Yang's bedroom. Here she saw Yuean Yang sitting, +hard at work at some needlework. The moment she caught sight of Madame +Hsing, she rose to her feet. + +"What are you up to?" Madame Hsing laughingly inquired. "Let me see! How +much nicer you embroider artificial flowers now!" + +So speaking, she entered, and, taking the needlework from her hands, she +scrutinised it, while extolling its beauty. Then laying down the work, +and scanning her again from head to foot, she observed that her costume +consisted of a half-new, grey thin silk jacket, and a bluish satin +waistcoat with scollops; that below this came a water-green jupe; that +her waist was slim as that of a wasp; that her shoulders sloped as if +pared; that her face resembled a duck's egg; that her hair was black and +shiny; that her nose was very high, and that on both her cheeks were +slightly visible several small flat moles. + +Yuean Yang realised how intently she was being passed under scrutiny, and +began to feel inwardly uneasy; while utter astonishment prevailed in her +mind. "Madame," she felt impelled to ask, "what do you come for at this +impossible hour?" + +At a wink from Madame Hsing, her attendants withdrew from the room. +Madame Hsing forthwith seated herself, and grasped Yuean Yang's hand in +hers. "I've come," she smiled, "with the special purpose of presenting +you my congratulations." + +This reply enabled Yuean Yang at once to form within herself some surmise +more or less correct of the object of her errand, and suddenly blushing +crimson, she lowered her head, and uttered not a word. + +"You know well enough," she next heard Madame Hsing resume, "that +there's not a single reliable person with my husband; but much though +we'd like to purchase some other girl we fear that such as might come +out of a broker's household wouldn't be quite spotless and taintless. +Nor would one be able to get any idea what her failings are, until after +she has been purchased and brought home; when she too will be sure, in +two or three days, to behave like an imp and play some monkey tricks! +That's why we thought of choosing some home-born girl out of those which +throng in our mansion, but then again we could find none decent enough; +for if her looks were not at fault, her disposition was not proper; and +if she possessed this quality, she lacked that one. Hence it is that +after repeatedly choosing with dispassionate eye, during half a year, +(he finds) that there's only you among that whole bevy of girls, who's +worth anything; that in looks, behaviour and deportment, you're gentle, +trustworthy, and perfection itself in every respect. His intention +therefore is to ask your hand of our old lady and take you over and +attach you to his quarters. You won't be treated as one newly-purchased, +or newly-sought for outside; for the moment you put your foot into our +house, you'll at once have your face shaved and be promoted to a +secondary wife; so you'll thus attain as much dignity as honour. More, +you're one who is anxious to excel; and, as the proverb says, 'gold will +still be exchanged for gold.' My husband has, who'd have thought it, +taken a fancy to you, so when you now enter our threshold, you'll fulfil +the wish you've cherished all along with such high purpose and lofty +aim, and stop the mouths of those persons, who are envious of your lot. +Follow me therefore and let's go and lay the matter before our venerable +ancestor." + +Arguing the while, she dragged her by the hand with the idea of hurrying +her off there and then. Yuean Yang, however, blushed to her very ears, +and, snatching her hand out of her grip she refused to budge. + +Madame Hsing was conscious that she was under the spell of intense +shame. "What's there in this to be ashamed?" she continued, "You needn't +besides breathe a word! All you have to do is to follow me, that's all." + +Yuean Yang continued to droop her head and to decline to go with her. +Madame Hsing, perceiving her behaviour, went on to exhort her. "Is it +likely, pray," she said, "that you still hesitate? If you actually don't +feel inclined to accept the offer, you're, in real truth, a foolish +girl; for here you let go the chances of becoming the secondary consort +of a master, and choose instead to continue a servant-girl. You'll be +united, in two or three years, to no one higher than some young +domestic, and remain as much a bond-servant as ever! If you come along +with us, you know that my disposition too is gentle; that I'm not one of +those persons, who don't show any regard for any one; that my husband +will also treat you as well as he does every one else, and that when, in +the course of a year or so, you give birth to a son or daughter, you'll +be placed on the same footing as myself. And of all the servants at +home, will any you may wish to employ not deign to move to execute your +orders? If now that you have a chance of becoming a mistress, you don't +choose to, why, you'll miss the opportunity, and then you may repent it, +but it will be too late!" + +Yuean Yang still kept her head bent against her chest and spake not a +syllable by way of reply. + +"How is it," added Madame Hsing, "that you, who've ever been so quick +have now too begun to be so infirm of purpose? What is there that +doesn't fall in with your wishes? Just tell me; and I can safely assure +you that you'll have everything done to satisfy you." + +Yuean Yang observed, as hitherto, perfect silence. + +"I suppose," laughed Madame Hsing, "that having a father and mother, you +yourself don't wish to speak, for fear of being put to the blush, and +that you want to wait until such time as they consult you about it, eh? +This is quite right! But you'd better let me go and make the proposal to +them and tell them to come and ascertain your wishes; and whatever your +answer then may be just entrust it to them." + +This said, she sped into lady Feng's suite of rooms. + +Lady Feng had long ago changed her attire, and availed herself of the +absence of any bystander in her apartments to confide the whole matter +to P'ing Erh. + +P'ing Erh nodded her head and smiled. "According to my views, success is +not so certain," she observed. "She and I have often secretly talked +this matter over, and the arguments I heard her propound don't make it +the least probable that she'll consent. But all we can say now is: +'We'll see!'" + +"Madame Hsing," lady Feng remarked, "is sure to come over here to +consult with me. If she has assented, well and good; but, if she hasn't, +she'll bring displeasure upon her own self, and won't she feel out of +countenance, if all of you are present? So tell the others to fry +several quails, and get anything nice, that goes well with them, and +prepare it for our repast, while you can go and stroll about in some +other spot, and return when you fancy she has gone." + +Hearing this, P'ing Erh transmitted her wishes word for word to the +matrons; after which, she sauntered leisurely all alone, into the +garden. + +When Yuean Yang saw Madame Hsing depart, she concluded that she was bound +to go into lady Feng's rooms to consult with her, and that some one was +sure to come and ask her about the proposal, so thinking it advisable to +cross over to this side of the mansion to get out of the way, she +consequently repaired in quest of Hu Po. + +"Should our old mistress," she said to her, "ask for me, just say that I +was so unwell that I couldn't even have any breakfast; that I've gone +into the garden for a stroll, but that I will be back at once." + +Hu Po undertook to tell her so, and Yuean Yang then betook herself too +into the garden. While lolling all over the place, she, contrary to her +expectations, encountered P'ing Erh. P'ing Erh looked round to see that +there was no one about. "Here comes the new secondary wife!" she +smilingly exclaimed. + +Yuean Yang caught this greeting, and promptly the colour rose to her +face. "How strange it is," she rejoined, "that you've all colluded +together to come, with one accord, and scheme against me! But wait until +I've had it out with your mistress, and then I'll set things all right." + +When P'ing Erh observed the angry look on Yuean Yang's countenance, her +conscience was so stricken with remorse, on account of the inconsiderate +remark she had passed, that drawing her under the maple tree, she made +her sit on the same boulder as herself, and then went so far as to +recount to her, from beginning to end, all that transpired, and +everything that was said on lady Feng's return, a short while back, from +the off mansion. + +Blushes flew to Yuean Yang's cheeks. Facing P'ing Erh, she gave a +sardonic smile. "We've all ever been friends," she said, "that is: Hsi +Jen, Hu Po, Su Yuen, Tzu Chuean, Ts'ai Hsia, Yue Ch'uan, She Yueeh, Ts'ui +Mo, Ts'ui Lue, who was in Miss Shih's service and is now gone, K'o Jen +and Chin Ch'uan, now deceased, Hsi Hsueeh, who left, and you and I. Ever +since our youth up, how many chats have the ten or dozen of us not had, +and what have we not been up to together? But now that we've grown up, +each of us has gone her own way! Yet, my heart is just what it was in +days gone by. Whenever there's anything for me to say or do, I don't try +to impose upon any of you; so just first treasure in your heart the +secret I'm going to tell you, and don't mention it to our lady Secunda! +Not to speak of our senior master wishing to make me his concubine, were +even our lady to die this very moment, and he to send endless +go-betweens, and countless betrothal presents, with the idea of wedding +me and taking me over as his lawful primary wife, I wouldn't also go." + +P'ing Erh was at this point desirous to put in some observation, when +from behind the boulder became audible the loud tones of laughter. "You +most barefaced girl!" a voice cried. "It's well you're not afraid of +your teeth falling when you utter such things!" + +These words reached the ears of both girls, and, so unawares were they +taken, that they got a regular start, and jumping up with all haste they +went to see behind the boulder. They found no one else than Hsi Jen, who +presented herself before them, with a smiling countenance, and asked: +"What's up? Do tell me!" + +As she spoke, the trio seated themselves on a rock. P'ing Erh then +imparted to Hsi Jen as well the drift of their recent conversation. + +"Properly speaking, we shouldn't pass such judgments," Hsi Jen remarked, +after listening to her confidences, "but this senior master of ours is +really a most licentious libertine. So much so, that whenever he comes +across a girl with any good looks about her, he won't let her out of his +grasp." + +"Since you don't like to entertain his offer," P'ing Erh suggested, +"I'll put you up to a plan." + +"What plan is it?" Yuean Yang inquired. + +"Just simply tell our old mistress," P'ing Erh laughed, "this answer: +that you've already been promised to our master Secundus, Mr. Lien. Our +senior master then won't very well be able to be importunate.'" + +"Ts'ui!" ejaculated Yuean Yang. "What a thing you are! Do you still make +such suggestions? Didn't your mistress the other day utter this silly +nonsense! Who'd have thought it, her words have now come true!" + +"If you won't have either of them," Hsi Jen smiled, "my idea is that you +should tell our old lady point blank and ask her to give out that she +promised you long ago to our master, number two, Pao-yue. Our senior +master will then banish this fad from his mind." + +Yuean Yang was overcome with anger, shame and exasperation. "What +dreadful vixens both of you are!" she shouted. "You don't deserve a +natural death! I find myself in a fix, and treat you as decent sort of +persons and confide in you so that you should arrange matters for me; +and not to say that you don't bother yourselves a rap about me, you take +turn and turn about to poke fun at me! You're under the impression, in +your own minds, that your fates are sealed, and that both of you are +bound by and bye to become secondary wives; but I can't help thinking +that affairs under the heavens don't so certainly fall in always with +one's wishes and expectations! So you'd better now pull up a bit, and +not be cheeky to such an excessive degree!" + +Both her companions then realised in what state of despair she was, and +promptly forcing a smile, "Dear sister," they said, "don't be so touchy! +We've been, ever since we were little mites, like very sisters! All +we've done is to spontaneously indulge in a little fun in a spot where +there's no one present. But tell us what you've decided to do, so that +we too should know, and set our minds at ease." + +"Decided what?" Yuean Yang cried. "All I know is that I won't go; that's +finished." + +P'ing Erh shook her head. "You mightn't go," she interposed, "but it +isn't likely that the matter will drop. You're well aware what sort of +temperament that of our senior master's is. It's true that you're +attached to our old mistress' rooms, and that he can't, just at present, +presume to do the least thing to you; but can it be, forsooth, that +you'll be with the old dame for your whole lifetime? You'll also have to +leave to get married, and if you then fall into his hands, it won't go +well with you." + +Yuean Yang smiled ironically. "I won't leave this place so long as my old +lady lives!" Yuean Yang protested. "In the event of her ladyship +departing this life, he'll have, under any circumstances, to also go +into mourning for three years; for there's no such thing as starting by +marrying a concubine, soon after a mother's death! And while he waits +for three years to expire, can one say what may not happen? It will be +time enough to talk about it when that date comes. But should I be +driven to despair from being hard pressed, I'll cut my hair off and +become a nun. If not, there's yet another thing: death! And as for a +whole life time I shall not join myself to a man, what joy will not then +be mine, for having managed to preserve my purity?" + +"In very truth," P'ing Erh and Hsi Jen laughed, "this vixen has no sense +of shame! She has now more than ever spoken whatever came foremost to +her lips!" + +"What matters a moment's shame," Yuean Yang rejoined, "when things have +reached this juncture? But if you don't believe my words, well, you'll +be able to see by and bye; then you'll feel convinced. Madame Hsing said +a short while back that she was going to look up my father and mother, +but I'd like to see whether she'll proceed to Nanking to find them." + +"Your parents are in Nanking looking after the houses," P'ing Erh said, +"and they can't come up; yet, in the long run, they can be found out. +Your elder brother and your sister-in-law are besides in here at +present. You, poor thing, are a child born in this establishment. You're +not like us two, who are solitary creatures here." + +"What does it matter whether I be born here or not?" Yuean Yang +exclaimed. "'You can lead a horse to a fountain, but you can't make him +drink!' So if I don't listen to any proposals, is it likely, may I ask, +that they'll kill my father and mother?" While the words were still on +her lips, they caught sight of her sister-in-law, advancing from the +opposite side. "As they couldn't at once get at your parents," Hsi Jen +remarked, "they've, for a certainty, told your sister-in-law." + +"All this wench is good for," Yuean Yang shouted, "is 'to rush about as +if selling camels in the six states!' If she heard what I said, she +won't feel flattered." + +But while she spoke, her sister-in-law approached them. "Where didn't I +look for you?" her sister-in-law smilingly observed. "Have you, miss, +run over here? Come along with me; I've got something to tell you!" + +P'ing Erh and Hsi Jen speedily motioned to her to sit down, but (Yuean +Yang's) sister-in-law demurred. "Young ladies, pray be seated; I've come +in search of our girl to tell her something." + +Hsi Jen and P'ing Erh feigned perfect ignorance. "What can it be that +it's so pressing?" they said with a smile. "We were engaged in guessing +puns here, so let's find out this, before you go." + +"What do you want to tell me?" Yuan Yang inquired. "Speak out!" + +"Follow me!" her sister-in-law laughed. "When we get over there, I'll +tell you. It's really some good tidings!" + +"Is it perchance what Madame Hsing has told you?" Yuean Yang asked. + +"Since you, miss, know what it's all about," her sister-in-law added +smilingly, "what else remains for me to do? Be quick and come with me +and I'll explain everything. Verily, it's a piece of happiness as large +as the heavens!" + +Yuean Yang, at these words, rose to her feet and spat contemptuously with +all her might in her sister-in-law's face. Pointing at her: "Be quick," +she cried abusively, "and stop that filthy tongue of yours! It would be +ever so much better, were you to bundle yourself away from this! What +good tidings and what piece of happiness! Little wonder is it that you +long and crave the whole day long to see other people's daughter turned +into a secondary wife as one and all of your family would rely upon her +to act contrary to reason and right! A whole household has been +converted into secondary wives! But the sight fills you with such keen +jealousy that you would like to also lay hold of me and throw me into +the pit-fire! If any honours fall to my share, all of you outside will +do everything disorderly and improper, and raise yourselves, in your own +estimations, to the status of uncles (and aunts). But if I don't get +any, and come to grief, you'll draw in your foul necks, and let me live +or die as I please!" + +While indulging in this raillery, she gave vent to tears. P'ing Erh and +Hsi Jen did all they could to reason with her so as to prevent her from +crying. + +Her sister-in-law felt quite out of countenance. "Whether you mean to +accept the proposal, or not," she consequently said, "you can anyhow +speak nicely. It isn't worth the while dragging this one in and +involving that one! The proverb adequately says: 'In the presence of a +dwarf one mustn't speak of dwarfish things!' Here you've been heaping +insult upon me, but I didn't presume to retaliate. These two young +ladies have however given you no provocation whatever; and yet by +referring, as you've done, in this way and that way to secondary wives +how can people stand it peacefully?" + +"You shouldn't speak so!" Hsi Jen and P'ing Erh quickly remonstrated. +"She didn't allude to us; so don't be implicating others! Have you heard +of any ladies or gentlemen who'd like to raise us to the rank of +secondary wives? What's more, we two have neither father nor mother, nor +brothers, within these doors, to avail themselves of our positions to +act in a way contrary to right and reason! If she abuses people, let her +do so; it isn't worth our while to be touchy!" + +"Seeing," Yuean Yang resumed, "that the abuse I've heaped upon her head +has put her to such shame that she doesn't know where to go and screen +her face, she tries to egg you two on! But you two have, fortunately, +your wits about you! Though quite impatient, I never started arguing the +question; she it was who chose to speak just now." + +Her sister-in-law felt inwardly much disconcerted, and beat a retreat in +high dudgeon. But Yuean Yang so lost her temper that she still went on to +abuse her; and it was only after P'ing Erh and Hsi Jen had admonished +her for ever so long that she let the matter drop. + +"What were you hiding there for?" P'ing Erh then asked Hsi Jen. "We +couldn't see anything of you." + +"I went," Hsi Jen explained, "into Miss Quarta's rooms to see our Mr. +Pao-yue, but, who'd have thought it, I got there a little too late, and +they told me that he had gone home. But my suspicions were, however, +aroused as I couldn't make out how it was that I hadn't come across him, +and I was about to go and hunt him up in Miss Lin's apartments, when I +met one of her servants who said that he hadn't been there either. Then +just as I was surmising that he must have gone out of the garden, +behold, you came, as luck would have it, from the opposite direction. +But I dodged you, so you didn't see anything of me. Subsequently, she +too appeared on the scene; but I got behind the boulder, from the back +of these trees. I, however, saw that you two had come to have a chat. +Strange to say, though you have four eyes between you, you never caught +a glimpse of me." + +Scarcely had she concluded this remark, than they heard some one else +from behind, laughingly exclaim, "Four eyes never saw you, but your six +eyes haven't as yet found me out!" + +The three girls received quite a shock from fright; but turning round, +they perceived that it was no other person than Pao-yue. + +Hsi Jen smiled, and was the first to speak. "You've made me have a good +search," she said. "Where do you hail from?" + +"I was just leaving cousin Quarta's," Pao-yue laughed, "when I noticed +you coming along, just in front of me; and knowing well enough that you +were bent upon finding me, I concealed myself to have a lark with you. I +saw you then go by, with uplifted head, enter the court, walk out again, +and ask every one you met on your way; but there I stood convulsed with +laughter. I was only waiting to rush up to you and frighten you, when I +afterwards realised that you too were prowling stealthily about, so I +readily inferred that you also were playing a trick upon some one. Then +when I put out my head and looked before me, I saw that it was these two +girls, so I came behind you, by a circuitous way; and as soon as you +left, I forthwith sneaked into your hiding place." + +"Let's go and look behind there," P'ing Erh suggested laughingly; "we +may possibly discover another couple; there's no saying." + +"There's no one else!" Pao-yue laughed. + +Yuean Yang had long ago concluded that every word of their conversation +had been overheard by Pao-yue; but leaning against the rock, she +pretended to be fast asleep. + +Pao-yue gave her a push. "This stone is cold!" he smiled. "Let's go and +sleep in our rooms. Won't it be better there?" + +Saying this, he made an attempt to pull Yuean Yang to her feet. Then +hastily pressing P'ing Erh to repair to his quarters and have some tea, +he united his efforts with those of Hsi Jen, and tried to induce Yuean +Yang to come away. Yuean Yang, at length, got up, and the quartet betook +themselves, after all, into the I Hung court. + +Pao-yue had caught every word that had fallen from their lips a few +minutes back, and felt, indeed, at heart so much distressed on Yuean +Yang's behalf, that throwing himself silently on his bed, he left the +three girls in the outer rooms to prosecute their chat and laugh. + +On the other side of the compound, Madame Hsing about this time inquired +of lady Feng who Yuean Yang's father was. + +"Her father," lady Feng replied, "is called Chin Ts'ai. He and his wife +are in Nanking; they have to look after our houses there, so they can't +pay frequent visits to the capital. Her brother is the Wen-hsiang, who +acts at present as our senior's accountant; but her sister-in-law too is +employed in our worthy ancestor's yonder as head washerwoman." + +Madame Hsing thereupon despatched a servant to go and call Yuean Yang's +sister-in-law. On Mrs. Chin Wen-hsiang's arrival, she told her all. Mrs. +Chin was naturally pleased and left in capital spirits to find Yuean +Yang, in the hope that the moment she communicated the offer to her, the +whole thing would be satisfactorily arranged. But contrary to all her +anticipations, she had to bear a good blowing up from Yuean Yang, and to +be told several unpleasant things by Hsi Jen and P'ing Erh, so that she +was filled with as much shame as indignation. She then came and reported +the result to Madame Hsing. "It's no use," she said, "she gave me a +scolding." But as lady Feng was standing by, she could not summon up +courage enough to allude to P'ing Erh, so she added: "Hsi Jen too helped +her to rate me, and they told me a whole lot of improper words, which +could not be breathed in a mistress' ears. It would thus be better to +arrange with our master to purchase a girl and have done; for from all I +see, neither can that mean vixen enjoy such great good fortune, nor we +such vast propitious luck!" + +"What's that again to do with Hsi Jen? How came they to know anything +about it?" Madame Hsing exclaimed upon learning the issue. "Who else was +present?" she proceeded to inquire. + +"There was Miss P'ing!" was Chin's wife's reply. + +"Shouldn't you have given her a slap on the mouth?" lady Feng +precipitately shouted. "As soon as I ever put my foot outside the door, +she starts gadding about; and I never see so much as her shadow, when I +get home. She too is bound to have had a hand in telling you something +or other!" + +"Miss P'ing wasn't present," Chin's wife protested. "Looking from a +distance it seemed to me like her; but I couldn't see distinctly. It was +a mere surmise on my part that it was she at all." + +"Go and fetch her at once!" lady Feng shouted to a servant. "Tell her +that I've come home, and that Madame Hsing is also here and wants her to +help her in her hurry." + +Feng Erh quickly came up to her. "Miss Lin," she observed, "despatched a +messenger for her, and asked her in writing three and four times before +she at last went. I advised her to get back so soon as your ladyship +stepped inside the gate, but 'tell your mistress,' Miss Lin said, 'that +I've put her to the inconvenience of coming round, as I've got something +for her to do for me.'" + +This explanation satisfied lady Feng and she let the matter drop. "What +has she got to do," she purposely went on to ask, "that she will trouble +her day after day?" + +Madame Hsing was driven to her wits' ends. As soon as the meal was over, +she returned home; and, in the evening, she communicated to Chia She the +result of her errand. After some reflection, Chia She promptly summoned +Chia Lien. + +"There are other people in Nanking to look after our property," he told +him on his arrival; "there's not only one family, so be quick and depute +some one to go and summon Chin Ts'ai to come up to the capital." + +"Last night a letter arrived from Nanking," Chia Lien rejoined, "to the +effect that Chin Ts'ai had been suffering from some phlegm-obstruction +in the channels of the heart. So a coffin and money were allowed from +the other mansion. Whether he be dead or alive now, I don't know. But +even if alive, he must have lost all consciousness. It would therefore +be a fruitless errand to send for him. His wife, on the other hand, is +quite deaf." + +Hearing this, Chia She gave vent to an exclamation of reproof, and next +launched into abuse. "You stupid and unreasonable rascal!" he shouted. +"Is it you of all people, who are up to those things? Don't you yet +bundle yourself off from my presence?" + +Chia Lien withdrew out of the room in a state of trepidation. But in a +short while, (Chia She) gave orders to call Chin Wen-hsiang. Chia Lien +(meanwhile) remained in the outer study, for as he neither ventured to +go home, nor presumed to face his father, his only alternative was to +tarry behind. Presently, Chin Wen-hsiang arrived. The servant-lads led +him straightway past the second gate; and he only came out again and +took his departure after sufficient time had elapsed to enable one to +have four or five meals in. + +Chia Lien could not for long summon up courage enough to ask what was +up, but when he found out, after a time, that Chia She had gone to +sleep, he eventually crossed over to his quarters. In the course of the +evening lady Feng told him the whole story. Then, at last, he understood +the meaning of the excitement. + +But to revert to Yuean Yang. She did not get, the whole night, a wink of +sleep. On the morrow, her brother reported to dowager lady Chia that he +would like to take her home on a visit. Dowager lady Chia accorded her +consent and told her she could go and see her people. Yuean Yang, +however, would have rather preferred to stay where she was, but the fear +lest her old mistress should give way to suspicion, placed her under the +necessity of going, much against her own inclinations though it was. Her +brother then had no course but to lay before her Chia She's proposal, +and all his promises that she would occupy an honourable position, and +that she would be a secondary wife, with control in the house; but Yuean +Yang was so persistent in her refusal that her brother was quite +nonplussed and he was compelled to return, and inform Chia She. + +Chia She flew into a dreadful passion. "I'll tell you what," he shouted; +"bid your wife go and tell her that I say: 'that she must, like the +goddess Ch'ang O herself who has from olden times shown a predilection +for young people, only despise me for being advanced in years; that, as +far as I can see, she must be hankering after some young men; that it +must, most likely, be Pao-yue; but probably Lien Erh too! If she fosters +these affections, warn her to at once set them at rest; for should she +not come, when I'm ready to have her, who will by and bye venture to +take her? This is the first thing. Should she imagine, in the next +place, that because our venerable senior is fond of her, she may, in the +future, be engaged to be married in the orthodox way, tell her to +consider carefully that she won't very well be able to escape my grip, +no matter in what family she may marry. That it's only in case of her +dying or of her not wedding any one throughout her life that I shall +submit to her decision. Under other circumstances, urge her to seize the +first opportunity and change her mind, as she'll come in for many +benefits.'" + +To every remark that Chia She uttered, Chin Wen-hsiang acquiesced. +"Yes!" he said. + +"Mind you don't humbug me!" Chia She observed. "I shall to-morrow send +again your mistress round to ask Yuean Yang. If you two have spoken to +her, and she hasn't given a favorable answer, well, then, no blame will +fall on you. But if she does assent, when she broaches the subject with +her, look out for your heads!" + +Chin Wen-hsiang eagerly expressed his obedience over and over again, and +withdrawing out of the room, he retraced his footsteps homeward. Nor did +he have the patience to wait until he could commission his womankind to +speak to her. Indeed he went in person and told her face to face the +injunctions entrusted to him. Yuean Yang was incensed to such a degree +that she was at a loss what reply to make. "I'm quite ready to go," she +rejoined, after some cogitation, "but you people must take me before my +old mistress first and let me tell her something about it." + +Her brother and sister-in-law flattered themselves that reflection had +induced her to alter her previous decision, and they were both +immeasurably delighted. Her sister-in-law there and then led her into +the upper quarters and ushered her into the presence of old lady Chia. +As luck would have it, Madame Wang, Mrs. Hsueeh, Li Wan, lady Feng, +Pao-ch'ai and the other girls were, together with several respectable +outside married women who acted as housekeepers, having some fun with +old lady Chia. Yuean Yang observed where her mistress was seated, and +hastily dragging her sister-in-law before her, she fell on her knees, +and explained to her, with tears in her eyes, what proposal Madame Hsing +had made to her, what her sister-in-law, who lived in the garden, had +told her, and what message her brother had recently conveyed to her. "As +I would not accept his advances," (she continued), "our senior master +has just now gone so far as to insinuate 'that I was violently attached +to Pao-yue; or if that wasn't the case, my object was to gain time so as +to espouse some one outside. That were I even to go up to the very +heavens, I couldn't, during my lifetime, escape his clutches, and that +he would, in the long run, wreak his vengeance on me.' I have +obstinately made up my mind, so I may state in the presence of all of +you here, that I'll, under no circumstances, marry, as long as I live, +any man whatsoever, not to speak of his being a Pao-yue, (precious jade); +but even a Pao Chin, (precious gold), a Pao Yin, (precious silver); a +Pao T'ien Wang, (precious lord of heaven); or a Pao Huang Ti, (precious +Emperor); and have done! Were even your venerable ladyship to press me +to take such a step, I couldn't comply with your commands, though you +may threaten to cut my throat with a sword. I'm quite prepared to wait +upon your ladyship, till you depart this life; but go with my father, +mother, or brother, I won't! I'll either commit suicide, or cut my hair +off, and go and become a nun. If you fancy that I'm not in earnest, and +that I'm temporarily using this language to put you off, may, as surely +as heaven, earth, the spirits, the sun and moon look upon me, my throat +be covered with boils!" + +Yuean Yang had, in fact, upon entering the room, brought along a pair of +scissors, concealed in her sleeve, and, while she spoke, she drew her +hand back, and, dishevelling her tresses, she began to clip them. When +the matrons and waiting-maids saw what she was up to, they hurriedly did +everything they could to induce her to desist from her purpose; but +already half of her locks had gone. And when they found on close +inspection, that with the thick crop of hair she happily had, she had +not succeeded in cutting it all, they immediately dressed it up for her. + +Upon hearing of Chia She's designs, dowager lady Chia was provoked to +displeasure. Her whole body trembled and shook. "Of all the attendants +I've had," she cried, "there only remains this single one, upon whom I +can depend, and now they want to conspire and carry her off!" Noticing +then Madame Wang standing close to her, she turned herself towards her. +"All you people really know is to impose upon me!" she resumed. +"Outwardly, you display filial devotion; but, secretly, you plot and +scheme against me. If I have aught that's worth having, you come and dun +me for it. If I have any one who's nice, you come and ask for her. +What's left to me is this low waiting-maid, but as you see that she +serves me faithfully, you naturally can't stand it, and you're doing +your utmost to estrange her from me so as to be the better able to play +your tricks upon me." + +Madame Wang quickly rose to her feet. She did not, however, dare to +return a single syllable in self-defence. + +Mrs. Hsueeh noticed that Madame Wang herself came in for her share of +blame, and she did not feel as if she could any longer make an attempt +to tender words of advice. Li Wan, the moment she heard Yuean Yang speak +in the strain she did, seized an early opportunity to lead the young +ladies out of the room. T'an Ch'un was a girl with plenty of common +sense, so reflecting within herself that Madame Wang could not, in spite +of the insult heaped upon her, very well presume to say any thing to +exculpate herself, that Mrs. Hsueeh could not, of course, in her position +of sister, bring forward any arguments, that Pao-ch'ai was unable to +explain things on behalf of her maternal aunt, and that Li Wan, lady +Feng or Pao-yue could, still less, take upon themselves the right of +censorship, she thought the opportunity rendered necessary the services +of a daughter; but, as Ying Ch'un was so quiet, and Hsi Ch'un so young, +she consequently walked in, no sooner did she overhear from outside the +window what was said inside, and forcing a smile, she addressed herself +to her grandmother. "How does this matter concern Madame Wang, my +mother?" she interposed. "Venerable senior, just consider! This is a +matter affecting her husband's eldest brother; and how could she, a +junior sister-in-law, know anything about it?..." + +But before she had exhausted all her arguments, dowager lady Chia's +countenance thawed into a smile. "I've really grown stupid from old +age!" she exclaimed. "Mrs. Hsueeh, don't make fun of me! This eldest +sister of yours is most reverent to me; and so unlike that senior lady +of mine, who only knows how to regard her lord and master and to simply +do things for the mere sake of appearances when she deals with her +mother-in-law. I've therefore done her a wrong!" + +Mrs. Hsueeh confined her reply to a 'yes.' "Dear senior, you're so full +of prejudices," she afterwards observed, "that you love your youngest +son's wife more than any one of the others; but it's quite natural." + +"I have no prejudices," old lady Chia protested. "Pao-yue," she then +proceeded, "I unjustly found fault with your mother; but, how was it +that even you didn't tell me anything, but that you looked on, while she +was having her feelings trampled upon?" + +"Could I," smiled Pao-yue, "have taken my mother's part, and run down my +senior uncle and aunt? If my mother did not bear the whole blame, upon +whom could she throw it? And had I admitted that it was I who was +entirely at fault, you, venerable ancestor, wouldn't have believed me." + +"What you say is quite reasonable," his grandmother laughed. "So be +quick and fall on your knees before your mother and tell her: 'mother, +don't feel aggrieved! Our old lady is so advanced in years. Do it for +Pao-yue's sake!'" + +At this suggestion, Pao-yue hastily crossed over, and dropping on his +knees, he was about to open his lips, when Madame Wang laughingly pulled +him up. "Get up," she cried, "at once! This won't do at all! Is it +likely, pray, that you would tender apologies to me on behalf of our +venerable ancestor?" + +Hearing this, Pao-yue promptly stood up. + +"Even that girl Feng didn't call me to my senses," dowager lady Chia +smiled again. + +"I don't lay a word to your charge, worthy senior," lady Feng remarked +smilingly, "and yet you brand me with reproach!" + +This rejoinder amused dowager lady Chia. "This is indeed strange!" she +said to all around. "But I'd like to listen to these charges." + +"Who told you, dear senior," lady Feng resumed, "to look after your +attendants so well, and lavish such care on them as to make them plump +and fine as water onions? How ever can you therefore bear people a +grudge, if they ask for her hand? I'm, lucky for you, your grandson's +wife; for were I your grandson, I would long ere this have proposed to +her. Would I have ever waited up to the present?" + +"Is this any fault of mine?" dowager lady Chia laughed. + +"Of course, it's your fault, venerable senior!" lady Feng retorted with +a smile. + +"Well, in that case, I too don't want her," old lady Chia proceeded +laughing. "Take her away, and have done!" + +"Wait until I go through this existence," lady Feng responded, "and, in +the life to come, I'll assume the form of a man and apply for her hand." + +"Take her along," dowager lady Chia laughed, "and give her to Lien-Erh +to attach to his apartments; and we'll see whether that barefaced +father-in-law of yours will still wish to have her or not." + +"Lien-Erh is not a match for her!" lady Feng added. "He's only a fit +mate for such as myself and P'ing Erh. A pair of loutish bumpkins like +us to have anything to do with such a one as herself!" + +At this rejoinder, they all exploded into a hearty fit of laughter. But +a waiting-maid thereupon announced: "Our senior lady has come." So +Madame Wang immediately quitted the room to go and meet her. + +But any further particulars, which you, reader may like to know, will be +given in the following chapter; so listen to it. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + + An idiotic bully tries to be lewd and comes in for a sound thrashing. + A cold-hearted fellow is prompted by a dread of trouble to betake + himself to a strange place. + + +As soon as Madame Wang, so runs our narrative, heard of Madame Hsing's +arrival, she quickly went out to welcome her. Madame Hsing was not yet +aware that dowager lady Chia had learnt everything connected with Yuean +Yang's affair, and she was coming again to see which way the wind blew. +The moment, however, she stepped inside the courtyard-entrance, several +matrons promptly explained to her, quite confidentially, that their old +mistress had been told all only a few minutes back, and she meant to +retrace her steps, (but she saw that) every inmate in the suite of rooms +was already conscious of her presence. When she caught sight, besides, +of Madame Wang walking out to meet her she had no option but to enter. +First and foremost, she paid her respects to dowager lady Chia, but old +lady Chia did not address her a single remark, so she felt within +herself smitten with shame and remorse. + +Lady Feng soon gave something or other as an excuse and withdrew. Yuean +Yang then returned also quite alone to her chamber to give vent to her +resentment; and Mrs. Hsueeh, Madame Wang and the other inmates, one by +one, retired in like manner, for fear of putting Madame Hsing out of +countenance. Madame Hsing, however, could not muster courage to beat a +retreat. Dowager lady Chia noticed that there was no one but themselves +in her apartments. "I hear," she remarked, "that you had come to play +the part of a go-between for your lord and master! You can very well +observe the three obediences and four virtues, but this softness of +yours is a work of supererogation! You people have also got now a whole +lot of grandchildren and sons. Do you still live in fear and trembling +lest he should put his monkey up? Rumour has it that you yet let that +disposition of your husband's run riot!" + +Madame Hsing's whole face got suffused with blushes. "I advised him time +and again," she explained, "but he wouldn't listen to me. How is it, +venerable senior, that you don't yet know that he turns a deaf ear to +me? That's why I had no choice in the matter!" + +"Would you go and kill any one," dowager lady Chia asked, "that he might +instigate you to? But consider now. Your brother's wife is naturally a +quiet sort of person, and is born with many ailments; but is there +anything, whether large or small, that she doesn't go to the trouble of +looking after? And notwithstanding that that daughter-in-law of yours +lends her a helping hand, she is daily so busy that she 'no sooner puts +down the pick than she has to take up the broom.' So busy, that I have +myself now curtailed a hundred and one things. But whenever there's +anything those two can't manage, there's Yuean Yang to come to their +assistance. She is, it's true, a mere child, but nevertheless very +careful; and knows how to concern herself about my affairs a bit; +indenting for anything that need be indented, and availing herself of an +opportunity to tell them to supply every requisite. Were Yuean Yang not +the kind of girl she is, how could those two ladies not neglect a whole +or part of those matters, both important as well as unimportant, +connected with the inner and outer quarters? Would I not at present have +to worry my own mind, instead of leaving things to others? Why, I'd +daily have to rack my brain and go and ask them to give me whatever I +might need! Of those girls, who've come to my quarters and those who've +gone, there only remains this single one. She's, besides other respects, +somewhat older in years, and has as well a slight conception of my ways +of doing things, and of my tastes. In the second place, she has managed +to win her mistresses' hearts, for she never tries to extort aught from +me, or to dun this lady for clothes or that one for money. Hence it is +that beginning from your sister-in-law and daughter-in-law down to the +servants in the house, irrespective of old or young, there isn't a soul, +who doesn't readily believe every single word she says in anything, no +matter what it is! Not only do I thus have some one upon whom I can +rely, but your young sister-in-law and your daughter-in-law are both as +well spared much trouble. With a person such as this by me, should even +my daughter-in-law and granddaughter-in-law not have the time to think +of anything, I am not left without it; nor am I given occasion to get my +temper ruffled. But were she now to go, what kind of creature would they +hunt up again to press into my service? Were you even to bring me a +person made of real pearls, she'd be of no use; if she doesn't know how +to speak! I was just about to send some one to go and explain to your +husband that 'I've got money in here enough to buy any girl he fancies,' +and to tell him that 'he's at liberty to give for her purchase from +eight to ten thousand taels; that, if he has set his heart upon this +girl, he can't however have her; and that by leaving her behind to +attend to me, during the few years to come, it will be just the same as +if he tried to acquit himself of his filial duties by waiting upon me +day and night,' so you come at a very opportune moment. Were you +therefore to go yourself at once and deliver him my message, it will +answer the purpose far better!" + +These words over, she called the servants. "Go," she said, "and ask Mrs. +Hsueeh, and your young mistresses to come! We were in the middle of a +chat full of zest, and how is it they've all dispersed?" + +The waiting-maids immediately assented and left to go in search of their +mistresses, one and all of whom promptly re-entered her apartments, with +the sole exception of Mrs. Hsueeh. + +"I've only now returned," she observed to the waiting-maid, "and what +shall I go again for? Just tell her that I'm fast asleep!" + +"Dearest Mrs. Hsueeh!" the waiting-maid pleaded, "my worthy senior! our +old mistress will get angry. If you, venerable lady, don't appear +nothing will appease her; so do it for the love of us! Should you object +to walking, why I'm quite ready to carry you on my back." + +"You little imp!" Mrs. Hsueeh laughed. "What are you afraid of? All +she'll do will be to scold you a little; and it will all be over soon!" + +While replying, she felt that she had no course but to retrace her +footsteps, in company with the waiting-maid. + +Dowager lady Chia at once motioned her into a seat. "Let's have a game +of cards!" she then smilingly proposed. "You, Mrs. Hsueeh, are not a good +hand at them; so let's sit together, and see that lady Feng doesn't +cheat us!" + +"Quite so," laughed Mrs. Hsueeh. "But it will be well if your venerable +ladyship would look over my hand a bit! Are we four ladies to play, or +are we to add one or two more persons to our number?" + +"Naturally only four!" Madame Wang smiled. + +"Were one more player let in," lady Feng interposed, "it would be +merrier!" + +"Call Yuean Yang here," old lady Chia suggested, "and make her take this +lower seat; for as Mrs. Hsueeh's eyesight is rather dim, we'll charge her +to look over our two hands a bit." + +"You girls know how to read and write," lady Feng remarked with a smile, +addressing herself to T'an Ch'un, "and why don't you learn +fortune-telling?" + +"This is again strange!" T'an Ch'un exclaimed. "Instead of bracing up +your energies now to rook some money out of our venerable senior, you +turn your thoughts to fortune-telling!" + +"I was just wishing to consult the fates," lady Feng proceeded, "as to +how much I shall lose to-day. Can I ever dream of winning? Why, look +here. We haven't commenced playing, and they have placed themselves in +ambush on the left and right." + +This remark amused dowager lady Chia and Mrs. Hsueeh. But presently Yuean +Yang arrived, and seated herself below her old mistress. After Yuean Yang +sat lady Feng. The red cloth was then spread; the cards were shuffled; +the dealer was decided upon and the quintet began to play. After the +game had gone on for a time, Yuean Yang noticed that dowager lady Chia +had a full hand and was only waiting for one two-spotted card, and she +made a secret sign to lady Feng. Lady Feng was about to lead, but +purposely lingered for a few moments. "This card will, for a certainty, +be snatched by Mrs. Hsueeh," she smiled, "yet if I don't play this one, I +won't be able later to come out with what I want." + +"I haven't got any cards you want in my hand," Mrs. Hsueeh remarked. + +"I mean to see by and bye," lady Feng resumed. + +"You're at liberty to see," Mrs. Hsueeh said. "But go on, play now! Let +me look what card it is." + +Lady Feng threw the card in front of Mrs. Hsueeh. At a glance, Mrs. Hsueeh +perceived that it was the two spot. "I don't fancy this card," she +smiled. "What I fear is that our dear senior will get a full hand." + +"I've played wrong!" lady Feng laughingly exclaimed at these words. + +Dowager lady Chia laughed, and throwing down her cards, "If you dare," +she shouted, "take it back! Who told you to play the wrong card?" + +"Didn't I want to have my fortune told?" lady Feng observed. "I played +this card of my own accord, so there's no one with whom I can find +fault." + +"You should then beat your own lips and punish your own self; it's only +fair;" old lady Chia remarked. Then facing Mrs. Hsueeh, "I'm not a +niggard, fond of winning money," she went on to say, "but it was my good +luck!" + +"Don't we too think as much?" Mrs. Hsueeh smiled. "Who's there stupid +enough to say that your venerable ladyship's heart is set upon money?" + +Lady Feng was busy counting the cash, but catching what was said, she +restrung them without delay. "I've got my share," she said, laughingly +to the company. "It isn't at all that you wish to win. It's your good +luck that made you come out a winner! But as for me, I am really a mean +creature; and, as I managed to lose, I count the money and put it away +at once." + +Dowager lady Chia usually made Yuean Yang shuffle the cards for her, but +being engaged in chatting and joking with Mrs. Hsueeh, she did not notice +Yuean Yang take them in hand. "Why is it you're so huffed," old lady Chia +asked, "that you don't even shuffle for me?" + +"Lady Feng won't let me have the money!" Yuean Yang replied, picking up +the cards. + +"If she doesn't give the money," dowager lady Chia observed, "it will be +a turning-point in her luck. Take that string of a thousand cash of +hers," she accordingly directed a servant, "and bring it bodily over +here!" + +A young waiting-maid actually fetched the string of cash and deposited +it by the side of her old mistress. + +"Let me have them," lady Feng eagerly cried smiling, "and I'll square +all that's due, and finish." + +"In very truth, lady Feng, you're a miserly creature!" Mrs. Hsueeh +laughed. "It's simply for mere fun, nothing more!" + +Lady Feng, at this insinuation, speedily stood up, and, laying her hand +on Mrs. Hsueeh, she turned her head round, and pointed at a large wooden +box, in which old lady Chia usually deposited her money. "Aunt," she +said, a smile curling her lips, "look here! I couldn't tell you how much +there is in that box that was won from me! This tiao will be wheedled by +the cash in it, before we've played for half an hour! All we've got to +do is to give them sufficient time to lure this string in as well; we +needn't trouble to touch the cards. Your temper, worthy ancestor, will +thus calm down. If you've also got any legitimate thing for me to do, +you might bid me go and attend to it!" + +This joke had scarcely been concluded than it evoked incessant laughter +from dowager lady Chia and every one else. But while she was bandying +words, P'ing Erh happened to bring her another string of cash prompted +by the apprehension that her capital might not suffice to meet her +wants. + +"It's useless putting them in front of me!" lady Feng cried. "Place +these too over there by our old lady and let them be wheedled in along +with the others! It will thus save trouble, as there won't be any need +to make two jobs of them, to the inconvenience of the cash already in +the box." + +Dowager lady Chia had a hearty laugh, so much so, that the cards, she +held in her hand, flew all over the table; but pushing Yuean Yang. "Be +quick," she shouted, "and wrench that mouth of hers!" + +P'ing Erh placed the cash according to her mistress' directions. But +after indulging too in laughter for a time, she retraced her footsteps. +On reaching the entrance into the court, she met Chia Lien. "Where's +your Madame Hsing?" he inquired. "Mr. Chia She told me to ask her to go +round." + +"She's been standing in there with our old mistress," P'ing Erh hastily +laughed, "for ever so long, and yet she isn't inclined to budge! Seize +the earliest opportunity you can get to wash your hands clean of this +business! Our old lady has had a good long fit of fuming and raging. +Luckily, our lady Secunda cracked an endless stock of jokes, so she, at +length, got a bit calmer!" + +"I'll go over," Chia Lien said. "All I have to do is to find out our +venerable senior's wishes, as to whether she means to go to Lai Ta's +house on the fourteenth, so that I might have time to get the chairs +ready. As I'll be able to tell Madame Hsing to return, and have a share +of the fun, won't it be well for me to go?" + +"My idea is," P'ing Erh suggested laughingly, "that you shouldn't put +your foot in there! Every one, even up to Madame Wang, and Pao-yue, have +alike received a rap on the knuckles, and are you also going now to fill +up the gap?" + +"Everything is over long ago," Chia Lien observed, "and can it be that +she'll cap the whole thing by blowing me up too? What's more, it's no +concern of mine. In the next place, Mr. Chia She enjoined me that I was +to go in person, and ask his wife round, so, if I at present depute some +one else, and he comes to know about it, he really won't feel in a +pleasant mood, and he'll take advantage of this pretext to give vent to +his spite on me." + +These words over, he quickly marched off. And P'ing Erh was so impressed +with the reasonableness of his arguments, that she followed in his +track. + +As soon as Chia Lien reached the reception hall, he trod with a light +step. Then peeping in he saw Madame Hsing standing inside. Lady Feng, +with her eagle eye, was the first to espy him. But she winked at him and +dissuaded him from coming in, and next gave a wink to Madame Hsing. +Madame Hsing could not conveniently get away at once, and she had to +pour a cup of tea, and place it in front of dowager lady Chia. But old +lady Chia jerked suddenly round, and took Chia Lien at such a +disadvantage that he found it difficult to beat a retreat. "Who is +outside?" exclaimed old lady Chia. "It seemed to me as if some +servant-boy had poked his head in." + +Lady Feng sprung to her feet without delay. "I also," she interposed, +"indistinctly noticed the shadow of some one." + +Saying this, she walked away and quitted the room. Chia Lien entered +with hasty step. Forcing a smile, "I wanted to ask," he remarked, +"whether you, venerable senior, are going out on the fourteenth, so that +the chairs may be got ready." + +"In that case," dowager lady Chia rejoined, "why didn't you come +straight in; but behaved again in that mysterious way?" + +"I saw that you were playing at cards, dear ancestor," Chia Lien +explained with a strained laugh, "and I didn't venture to come and +disturb you. I therefore simply meant to call my wife out to find out +from her." + +"Is it anything so very urgent that you had to say it this very moment?" +old lady Chia continued. "Had you waited until she had gone home, +couldn't you have asked her any amount of questions you may have liked? +When have you been so full of zeal before? I'm puzzled to know whether +it isn't as an eavesdropping spirit that you appear on the scene; nor +can I say whether you don't come as a spy. But that impish way of yours +gave me quite a start! What a low-bred fellow you are! Your wife will +play at cards with me for a good long while more, so you'd better bundle +yourself home, and conspire again with Chao Erh's wife how to do away +with your better half." + +Her remarks evoked general merriment. + +"It's Pao Erh's wife," Yuean Yang put in laughingly, "and you, worthy +senior, have dragged in again Chao Erh's wife." + +"Yes!" assented old lady Chia, likewise with a laugh. "How could I +remember whether he wasn't (pao) embracing her, or (pei) carrying her on +his back. The bare mention of these things makes me lose all +self-control and provokes me to anger! Ever since I crossed these doors +as a great grandson's wife, I have never, during the whole of these +fifty-four years, seen anything like these affairs, albeit it has been +my share to go through great frights, great dangers, thousands of +strange things and hundred and one remarkable occurrences! Don't you yet +pack yourself off from my presence?" + +Chia Lien could not muster courage to utter a single word to vindicate +himself, but retired out of the room with all promptitude. P'ing Erh was +standing outside the window. "I gave you due warning in a gentle tone, +but you wouldn't hear; you've, after all, rushed into the very meshes of +the net!" + +These reproaches were still being heaped on him when he caught sight of +Madame Hsing, as she likewise made her appearance outside. "My father," +Chia Lien ventured, "is at the bottom of all this trouble; and the whole +blame now is shoved upon your shoulders as well as mine, mother." + +"I'll take you, you unfilial thing and..." Madame Hsing shouted. "People +lay down their lives for their fathers; and you are prompted by a few +harmless remarks to murmur against heaven and grumble against earth! +Won't you behave in a proper manner? He's in high dudgeon these last few +days, so mind he doesn't give you a pounding!" + +"Mother, cross over at once," Chia Lien urged; "for he told me to come +and ask you to go a long time ago." + +Pressing his mother, he escorted her outside as far as the other part of +the mansion. Madame Hsing gave (her husband) nothing beyond a general +outline of all that had been recently said; but Chia She found himself +deprived of the means of furthering his ends. Indeed, so stricken was he +with shame that from that date he pleaded illness. And so little able +was he to rally sufficient pluck to face old lady Chia, that he merely +commissioned Madame Hsing and Chia Lien to go daily and pay their +respects to her on his behalf. He had no help too but to despatch +servants all over the place to make every possible search and inquiry +for a suitable concubine for him. After a long time they succeeded in +purchasing, for the sum of eighty taels, a girl of seventeen years of +age, Yen Hung by name, whom he introduced as secondary wife into his +household. + +But enough of this subject. In the rooms on the near side, they +protracted for a long time their noisy game of cards, and only broke up +after they had something to eat. Nothing worthy of note, however, +occurred during the course of the following day or two. In a twinkle, +the fourteenth drew near. At an early hour before daybreak, Lai Ta's +wife came again into the mansion to invite her guests. Dowager lady Chia +was in buoyant spirits, so taking along Madame Wang, Mrs. Hsueeh, Pao-yue +and the various young ladies, she betook herself into Lai Ta's garden, +where she sat for a considerable time. + +This garden was not, it is true, to be compared with the garden of Broad +Vista; but it also was most beautifully laid out, and consisted of +spacious grounds. In the way of springs, rockeries, arbours and woods, +towers and terraces, pavilions and halls, it likewise contained a good +many sufficient to excite admiration. In the main hall outside, were +assembled Hsueeh P'an, Chia Chen, Chia Lien, Chia Jung and several close +relatives. But Lai Ta had invited as well a number of officials, still +in active service, and numerous young men of wealthy families, to keep +them company. Among that party figured one Liu Hsiang-lien, whom Hsueeh +P'an had met on a previous occasion and kept ever since in constant +remembrance. Having besides discovered that he had a passionate liking +for theatricals, and that the parts he generally filled were those of a +young man or lady, in fast plays, he had unavoidably misunderstood the +object with which he indulged in these amusements, to such a degree as +to misjudge him for a young rake. About this time, he had been +entertaining a wish to cultivate intimate relations with him, but he +had, much to his disgust, found no one to introduce him, so when he, by +a strange coincidence, came to be thrown in his way, on the present +occasion, he revelled in intense delight. But Chia Chen and the other +guests had heard of his reputation, so as soon as wine had blinded their +sense of shame, they entreated him to sing two short plays; and when +subsequently they got up from the banquet, they ensconced themselves +near him, and, pressing him with questions, they carried on a +conversation on one thing and then another. + +This Liu Hsiang-lien was, in fact, a young man of an old family; but he +had been unsuccessful in his studies, and had lost his father and +mother. He was naturally light-hearted and magnanimous; not particular +in minor matters; immoderately fond of spear-exercise and fencing, of +gambling and boozing; even going to such excesses as spending his nights +in houses of easy virtue; playing the fife, thrumming the harp, and +going in for everything and anything. Being besides young in years, and +of handsome appearance, those who did not know what his standing was, +invariably mistook him for an actor. But Lai Ta's son had all along been +on such friendly terms with him, that he consequently invited him for +the nonce to help him do the honours. + +Of a sudden, while every one was, after the wines had gone round, still +on his good behaviour, Hsueeh P'an alone got another fit of his old +mania. From an early stage, his spirits sunk within him and he would +fain have seized the first convenient moment to withdraw and consummate +his designs but for Lai Shang-jung, who then said: "Our Mr. Pao-yue told +me again just now that although he saw you, as he walked in, he couldn't +speak to you with so many people present, so he bade me ask you not to +go, when the party breaks up, as he has something more to tell you. But +as you insist upon taking your leave, you'd better wait until I call him +out, and when you've seen each other, you can get away; I'll have +nothing to say then." + +While delivering the message, "Go inside," he directed the servant-boys, +"and get hold of some old matron and tell her quietly to invite Mr. +Pao-yue to come out." + +A servant-lad went on the errand, and scarcely had time enough elapsed +to enable one to have a cup of tea in, than Pao-yue, actually, made his +appearance outside. + +"My dear sir," Lai Shang-jung smilingly observed to Pao-yue, "I hand him +over to you. I'm going to entertain the guests!" + +With these words, he was off. + +Pao-yue pulled Lia Hsiang-lien into a side study in the hall, where they +sat down. + +"Have you been recently to Ch'in Ch'ung's grave?" he inquired of him. + +"How could I not go?" Hsiang-lien answered. "The other day a few of us +went out to give our falcons a fly; and we were yet at a distance of two +li from his tomb, when remembering the heavy rains, we've had this +summer, I gave way to fears lest his grave may not have been proof +against them; so evading the notice of the party I went over and had a +look. I found it again slightly damaged; but when I got back home, I +speedily raised a few hundreds of cash, and issued early on the third +day, and hired two men, who put it right." + +"It isn't strange then!" exclaimed Pao-yue, "When the lotus blossomed +last month in the pond of our garden of Broad Vista, I plucked ten of +them and bade T'sai Ming go out of town and lay them as my offering on +his grave. On his return, I also inquired of him: whether it had been +damaged by the water or not; and he explained that not only had it not +sustained any harm, but that it looked better than when last he'd seen +it. Several of his friends, I argued, must have had it put in proper +repair; and I felt it irksome that I should, day after day, be so caged +at home as to be unable to be my own master in the least thing, and that +if even I move, and any one comes to know of it, this one is sure to +exhort me, if that one does not restrain me. I can thus afford to brag, +but can't manage to act! And though I've got plenty of money, I'm not at +liberty to spend any of it!" + +"There's no use your worrying in a matter like this!" Liu Hsiang-lien +said. "I am outside, so all you need do is to inwardly foster the wish; +that's all. But as the first of the tenth moon will shortly be upon us, +I've already prepared the money necessary for going to the graves. You +know well enough that I'm as poor as a rat; I've no hoardings at home; +and when a few cash find their way into my pocket, I soon remain again +quite empty-handed. But I'd better make the best of this opportunity, +and keep the amount I have, in order that, when the time comes, I mayn't +find myself without a cash." + +"It's exactly about this that I meant to send Pei Ming to see you," +Pao-yue added. "But it isn't often that one can manage to find you at +home. I'm well aware how uncertain your movements are; one day you are +here, and another there; you've got no fixed resort." + +"There's no need sending any one to hunt me up!" Liu Hsiang-lien +replied. "All that each of us need do in this matter is to acquit +ourselves of what's right. But in a little while, I again purpose going +away on a tour abroad, to return in three to five years' time." + +When Pao-yue heard his intention, "Why is this?" he at once inquired. + +Liu Hsiang-lien gave a sardonic smile. "When my wish is on a fair way to +be accomplished," he said, "you'll certainly hear everything. I must now +leave you." + +"After all the difficulty we've had in meeting," Pao-yue remarked, +"wouldn't it be better were you and I to go away together in the +evening?" + +"That worthy cousin of yours," Hsiang-lien rejoined, "is as bad as ever, +and were I to stay any longer, trouble would inevitably arise. So it's +as well that I should clear out of his way." + +Pao-yue communed with himself for a time. "In that case," he then +observed, "it's only right, that you should retire. But if you really be +bent upon going on a distant tour, you must absolutely tell me something +beforehand. Don't, on any account, sneak away quietly!". + +As he spoke, the tears trickled down his cheeks. + +"I shall, of course, say good-bye to you," Liu Hsiang-lien rejoined. +"But you must not let any one know anything about it!" + +While uttering these words, he stood up to get away. "Go in at once," he +urged, "there's no need to see me off!" + +Saying this, he quitted the study. As soon as he reached the main +entrance, he came across Hsueeh P'an, bawling out boisterously, "Who let +young Liu-erh go?" + +The moment these shouts fell on Liu Hsiang-lien's ear, his anger flared +up as if it had been sparks spurting wildly about, and he only wished he +could strike him dead with one blow. But on second consideration, he +pondered that a fight after the present festive occasion would be an +insult to Lai Shang-jung, and he perforce felt bound to stifle his +indignation. + +When Hsueeh P'an suddenly espied him walking out, he looked as delighted +as if he had come in for some precious gem. With staggering step he drew +near him. Clutching him with one grip, "My dear brother," he smirked. +"where are you off to?" + +"I'm going somewhere, but will be back soon," Hsiang-lien said by way of +response. + +"As soon as you left," Hsueeh P'an smiled, "all the fun went. But pray +sit a while! If you do so, it will be a proof of your regard for me! +Don't flurry yourself. With such a senior brother as myself to stand by +you, it will be as easy a job for you to become an official as to reap a +fortune." + +The sight of his repulsive manner filled the heart of Hsiang-lien with +disgust and shame. But speedily devising a plan, he drew him to a +secluded spot. "Is your friendship real," he smiled, "or is it only a +sham?" + +This question sent Hsueeh P'an into such raptures that he found it +difficult to check himself from gratifying his longings. But glancing at +him with the corner of his eye, "My dear brother," he smiled, "what +makes you ask me such a thing? If my friendship for you is a sham, may I +die this moment, before your very eyes." + +"Well, if that be so," Hsiang-lien proceeded, "it isn't convenient in +here, so sit down and wait a bit. I'll go ahead, but come out of this +yourself by and bye, and follow me to my place, where we can drink the +whole night long. I've also got there two first-rate young fellows who +never go out of doors. But don't bring so much as a single follower with +you, as you'll find, when you get there, plenty of people ready at hand +to wait on you." + +So high did this assignation raise Hsueeh P'an's spirits that he +recovered, to a certain extent, from the effects of wine. "Is it really +so?" he asked. + +"How is it," Hsiang-lien laughed, "that when people treat you with a +sincere heart, you don't, after all, believe them?" + +"I'm no fool," eagerly exclaimed Hsueeh P'an, "and how could I not +believe you? But since this be the case, how am I, who don't even know +the way, to find your whereabouts if you are to go ahead of me?" + +"My place is outside the northern gate." Hsiang-lien explained. "But can +you tear yourself away from your home to spend the night outside the +city walls?" + +"As long as you're there," Hsueeh P'an said, "what will I want my home +for?" + +"If that be so," Hsiang-lien resumed, "I'll wait for you on the bridge +outside the northern gate. But let us meanwhile rejoin the banquet and +have some wine. Come along, after you've seen me go; they won't notice +us then." + +"Yes!" shouted Hsueeh P'an with alacrity as he acquiesced to the +proposal. + +The two young fellows thereupon returned to the feast, and drank for a +time. Hsueeh Pan, however, could with difficulty endure the suspense. He +kept his gaze intent upon Hsiang-lien; and the more he pondered within +himself upon what was coming, the more exuberance swelled in his heart. +Now he emptied one wine-kettle; now another; and, without waiting for +any one to press him, he, of his own accord, gulped down one drink after +another, with the result that he unconsciously made himself nearly quite +tipsy. Hsiang-lien then got up and quitted the room, and perceiving +every one off his guard, he egressed out of the main entrance. "Go home +ahead," he directed his page Hsing Nu. "I'm going out of town, but I'll +be back at once." + +By the time he had finished giving him these directions, he had already +mounted his horse, and straightway he proceeded to the bridge beyond the +northern gate, and waited for Hsueeh P'an. A long while elapsed, however, +before he espied Hsueeh P'an in the distance, hurrying along astride of a +high steed, with gaping mouth, staring eyes, and his head, banging from +side to side like a pedlar's drum. Without intermission, he glanced +confusedly about, sometimes to the left, and sometimes to the right; +but, as soon as he got where he had to pass in front of Hsiang-lien's +horse, he kept his gaze fixed far away, and never troubled his mind with +the immediate vicinity. + +Hsiang-lien felt amused and angry with him, but forthwith giving his +horse also the rein, he followed in his track, while Hsueeh P'an +continued to stare ahead. + +Little by little the habitations got scantier and scantier, so pulling +his horse round, (Hsueeh P'an) retraced his steps. The moment he turned +back, he unawares caught sight of Hsiang-lien, and his spirits rose +within him, as if he had got hold of some precious thing of an +extraordinary value. "I knew well enough," he eagerly smiled, "that you +weren't one to break faith." + +"Quick, let's go ahead!" Hsiang-lien smilingly urged. "Mind people might +notice us and follow us. It won't then be nice!" + +While instigating him, he took the lead, and letting his horse have the +rein, he wended his way onwards, followed closely by Hsueeh P'an. But +when Hsiang-lien perceived that the country ahead of them was already +thinly settled and saw besides a stretch of water covered with a growth +of weeds, he speedily dismounted, and tied his horse to a tree. Turning +then round; "Get down!" he said, laughingly, to Hsueeh P'an. "You must +first take an oath, so that in the event of your changing your mind in +the future, and telling anything to anyone, the oath might be +accomplished." + +"You're quite right!" Hsueeh P'an smiled; and jumping down with all +despatch, he too made his horse fast to a tree, and then crouched on his +knees. + +"If I ever in days to come," he exclaimed, "know any change in my +feelings and breathe a word to any living soul, may heaven blast me and +earth annihilate me!" + +Scarcely had he ended this oath, when a crash fell on his ear, and lo, +he felt as if an iron hammer had been brought down to bear upon him from +behind. A black mist shrouded his eyes, golden stars flew wildly about +before his gaze; and losing all control over himself, he sprawled on the +ground. + +Hsiang-lien approached and had a look at him; and, knowing how little he +was accustomed to thrashings, he only exerted but little of his +strength, and struck him a few blows on the face. But about this time a +fruit shop happened to open, and Hsueeh P'an strained at first every +nerve to rise to his feet, when another slight kick from Hsiang-lien +tumbled him over again. + +"Both parties should really be agreeable," he shouted. "But if you were +not disposed to accept my advances, you should have simply told me in a +proper way. And why did you beguile me here to give me a beating?" + +So speaking, he went on boisterously to heap invective upon his head. + +"I'll take you, you blind fellow, and show you who Mr. Liu is," +Hsiang-lien cried. "You don't appeal to me with solicitous entreaties, +but go on abusing me! To kill you would be of no use, so I'll merely +give you a good lesson!" + +With these words, he fetched his whip, and administered him, thirty or +forty blows from his back down to his shins. + +Hsueeh P'an had sobered down considerably from the effects of wine, and +found the stings of pain so intolerable, that little able to restrain +himself, he gave way to groans. + +"Do you go on in this way?" Hsiang-lien said, with an ironical smile. +"Why, I thought you were not afraid of beatings." + +While uttering this taunt, he seized Hsueeh P'an by the left leg, and +dragging him several steps into a miry spot among the reeds, he rolled +him about till he was covered with one mass of mud. "Do you now know +what stuff I'm made of?" he proceeded to ask. + +Hsueeh P'an made no reply. But simply lay prostrate, and moaned. Then +throwing away his whip Hsiang-lien gave him with his fist several thumps +all over the body. + +Hsueeh P'an began to wriggle violently and vociferate wildly. "Oh, my +ribs are broken!" he shouted. "I know you're a proper sort of person! +It's all because I made the mistake of listening to other people's +gossip!" + +"There's no need for you to drag in other people!" Hsiang-lien went on. +"Just confine yourself to those present!" + +"There's nothing up at present!" Hsueeh P'an cried. "From what you say, +you're a person full of propriety. So it's I who am at fault." + +"You'll have to speak a little milder," Hsiang-lien added, "before I let +you off." + +"My dear younger brother," Hsueeh P'an pleaded, with a groan. + +Hsiang-lien at this struck him another blow with his fist. + +"Ai!" ejaculated Hsueeh P'an. "My dear senior brother!" he exclaimed. + +Hsiang-lien then gave him two more whacks, one after the other. + +"Ai Yo!" Hsueeh P'an precipitately screamed. "My dear Sir, do spare me, +an eyeless beggar; and henceforth I'll look up to you with veneration; +I'll fear you!" + +"Drink two mouthfuls of that water!" shouted Hsiang-lien. + +"That water is really too foul," Hsueeh P'an argued, in reply to this +suggestion, wrinkling his eyebrows the while; "and how could I put any +of it in my mouth?" + +Hsiang-lien raised his fist and struck him. + +"I'll drink it, I'll drink it!" quickly bawled Hsueeh P'an. + +So saying, he felt obliged to lower his head to the very roots of the +reeds and drink a mouthful. Before he had had time to swallow it, a +sound of 'ai' became audible, and up came all the stuff he had put into +his mouth only a few seconds back. + +"You filthy thing!" exclaimed Hsiang-lien. "Be quick and finish +drinking; and I'll let you off." + +Upon hearing this, Hsueeh P'an bumped his head repeatedly on the ground. +"Do please," he cried, "lay up a store of meritorious acts for yourself +and let me off! I couldn't take that were I even on the verge of death!" + +"This kind of stench will suffocate me!" Hsiang-lien observed, and, with +this remark, he abandoned Hsueeh Pan to his own devices; and, pulling his +horse, he put his foot to the stirrup, and rode away. + +Hsueeh Pan, meanwhile, became aware of his departure, and felt at last +relieved in his mind. Yet his conscience pricked him for he saw that he +should not misjudge people. He then made an effort to raise himself, but +the racking torture he experienced all over his limbs was so sharp that +he could with difficulty bear it. + +Chia Chen and the other guests present at the banquet became, as it +happened, suddenly alive to the fact that the two young fellows had +disappeared; but though they extended their search everywhere, they saw +nothing of them. Some one insinuated, in an uncertain way, that they had +gone outside the northern gate; but as Hsueeh P'an's pages had ever lived +in dread of him, who of them had the audacity to go and hunt him up +after the injunctions, he had given them, that they were not to follow +him? But waxing solicitous on his account, Chia Chen subsequently bade +Chia Jung take a few servant-boys and go and discover some clue of him, +or institute inquiries as to his whereabouts. Straightway therefore they +prosecuted their search beyond the northern gate, to a distance of two +li below the bridge, and it was quite by accident that they discerned +Hsueeh P'an's horse made fast by the side of a pit full of reeds. + +"That's a good sign!" they with one voice exclaimed; "for if the horse +is there, the master must be there too!" + +In a body, they thronged round the horse, when, from among the reeds, +they caught the sound of human groans, so hurriedly rushing forward to +ascertain for themselves, they, at a glance, perceived Hsueeh P'an, his +costume all in tatters, his countenance and eyes so swollen and bruised +that it was hard to make out the head and face, and his whole person, +inside as well as outside his clothes, rolled like a sow in a heap of +mud. + +Chia Jung surmised pretty nearly the truth. Speedily dismounting, he +told the servants to prop him up. "Uncle Hsueeh," he laughed, "you daily +go in for lewd dalliance; but have you to-day come to dissipate in a +reed-covered pit? The King of the dragons in this pit must have also +fallen in love with your charms, and enticed you to become his +son-in-law that you've come and gored yourself on his horns like this!" + +Hsueeh P'an was such a prey to intense shame that he would fain have +grovelled into some fissure in the earth had he been able to detect any. +But so little able was he to get on his horse that Chia Jung directed a +servant to run to the suburbs and fetch a chair. Ensconced in this, +Hsueeh P'an entered town along with the search party. + +Chia Jung still insisted upon carrying him to Lai Ta's house to join the +feast, so Hsueeh P'an had to make a hundred and one urgent appeals to him +to tell no one, before Chia Jung eventually yielded to his solicitations +and allowed him to have his own way and return home. + +Chia Jung betook himself again to Lai Ta's house, and narrated to Chia +Chen their recent experiences. When Chia Chen also learnt of the +flogging (Hsueeh P'an) had received from Hsiang-lien, he laughed. "It's +only through scrapes," he cried, "that he'll get all right!" + +In the evening, after the party broke up, he came to inquire after him. +But Hsueeh P'an, who was lying all alone in his bedroom, nursing himself, +refused to see him, on the plea of indisposition. + +When dowager lady Chia and the other inmates had returned home, and +every one had retired into their respective apartments, Mrs. Hsueeh and +Pao-ch'ai observed that Hsiang Ling's eyes were quite swollen from +crying, and they questioned her as to the reason of her distress. (On +being told), they hastily rushed to look up Hsueeh P'an; but, though they +saw his body covered with scars, they could discover no ribs broken, or +bones dislocated. + +Mrs. Hsueeh fell a prey to anguish and displeasure. At one time, she +scolded Hsueeh P'an; at another, she abused Liu Hsiang-lien. Her wish was +to lay the matter before Madame Wang in order that some one should be +despatched to trace Liu Hsiang-lien and bring him back, but Pao-ch'ai +speedily dissuaded her. "It's nothing to make a fuss about," she +represented. "They were simply drinking together; and quarrels after a +wine bout are ordinary things. And for one who's drunk to get a few +whacks more or less is nothing uncommon! Besides, there's in our home +neither regard for God nor discipline. Every one knows it. If it's +purely out of love, mother, that you desire to give vent to your spite, +it's an easy matter enough. Have a little patience for three or five +days, until brother is all right and can go out. Mr. Chia Chen and Mr. +Chia Lien over there are not people likely to let the affair drop +without doing anything! They'll, for a certainty, stand a treat, and ask +that fellow, and make him apologise and admit his wrong in the presence +of the whole company, so that everything will be properly settled. But +were you now, ma, to begin making much of this occurrence, and telling +every one, it would, on the contrary, look as if you had, in your +motherly partiality and fond love for him, indulged him to stir up a row +and provoke people! He has, on this occasion, had unawares to eat humble +pie, but will you, ma, put people to all this trouble and inconvenience +and make use of the prestige enjoyed by your relatives to oppress an +ordinary person?" + +"My dear child," Mrs. Hsueeh rejoined, "after listening to the advice +proffered by her, you've, after all, been able to foresee all these +things! As for me, that sudden fit of anger quite dazed me!" + +"All will thus be square," Pao-ch'ai smiled, "for, as he's neither +afraid of you, mother, nor gives an ear to people's exhortations, but +gets wilder and wilder every day that goes by, he may, if he gets two or +three lessons, turn over a new leaf." + +While Hsueeh P'an lay on the stovecouch, he reviled Hsiang-lien with all +his might. Next, he instigated the servant-boys to go and demolish his +house, kill him and bring a charge against him. But Mrs. Hsueeh hindered +the lads from carrying out his purpose, and explained to her son: "that +Liu Hsiang-lien had casually, after drinking, behaved in a disorderly +way, that now that he was over the effects of wine, he was exceedingly +filled with remorse, and that, prompted by the fear of punishment, he +had effected his escape." + +But, reader, if you feel any interest to know what happened when Hsueeh +P'an heard the version his mother gave him, listen to what you will find +in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + + A sensual-minded man gets into such trouble through his sensuality + that he entertains the idea of going abroad. + An estimable and refined girl manages, after great exertion, to + compose verses at a refined meeting. + + +But to resume our story. After hearing his mother's arguments, Hsueeh +P'an's indignation gradually abated. But notwithstanding that his pains +and aches completely disappeared, in three or five days' time, the scars +of his wounds were not yet healed and shamming illness, he remained at +home; so ashamed was he to meet any of his relations or friends. + +In a twinkle, the tenth moon drew near; and as several among the +partners in the various shops, with which he was connected, wanted to go +home, after the settlement of the annual accounts, he had to give them a +farewell spread at home. In their number was one Chang Te-hui, who from +his early years filled the post of manager in Hsueeh P'an's pawnshop; and +who enjoyed in his home a living of two or three thousand taels. His +purpose too was to visit his native place this year, and to return the +following spring. + +"Stationery and perfumery have been so scarce this year," he +consequently represented, "that prices will next year inevitably be +high; so when next year comes, what I'll do will be to send up my elder +and younger sons ahead of me to look after the pawnshop, and when I +start on my way back, before the dragon festival, I'll purchase a stock +of paper, scents and fans and bring them for sale. And though we'll have +to reduce the duties, payable at the barriers, and other expenses, there +will still remain for us a considerable percentage of profit." + +This proposal set Hsueeh P'an musing, "With the dressing I've recently +had," he pondered, "I cannot very well, at present, appear before any +one. Were the fancy to take me to get out of the way for half a year or +even a year, there isn't a place where I can safely retire. And to sham +illness, day after day, isn't again quite the right thing! In addition +to this, here I've reached this grown-up age, and yet I'm neither a +civilian nor a soldier. It's true I call myself a merchant; but I've +never in point of fact handled the scales or the abacus. Nor do I know +anything about our territories, customs and manners, distances and +routes. So wouldn't it be advisable that I should also get ready some of +my capital, and go on a tour with Chang Te-hui for a year or so? Whether +I earn any money or not, will be equally immaterial to me. More, I shall +escape from all disgrace. It will, secondly, be a good thing for me to +see a bit of country." + +This resolution once arrived at in his mind, he waited until they rose +from the banquet, when he, with calmness and equanimity, brought his +plans to Chang Te-hui's cognizance, and asked him to postpone his +departure for a day or two so that they should proceed on the journey +together. + +In the evening, he imparted the tidings to his mother. Mrs. Hsueeh, upon +hearing his intention, was albeit delighted, tormented with fresh +misgivings lest he should stir up trouble abroad,--for as far as the +expense was concerned she deemed it a mere bagatelle,--and she +consequently would not permit him to go. "You have," she reasoned with +him, "to take proper care of me, so that I may be able to live in peace. +Another thing is, that you can well dispense with all this buying and +selling, for you are in no need of the few hundreds of taels, you may +make." + +Hsueeh P'an had long ago thoroughly resolved in his mind what to do and +he did not therefore feel disposed to listen to her remonstrances. "You +daily tax me," he pleaded, "with being ignorant of the world, with not +knowing this, and not learning that, and now that I stir up my good +resolution, with the idea of putting an end to all trifling, and that I +wish to become a man, to do something for myself, and learn how to carry +on business, you won't let me! But what would you have me do? Besides +I'm not a girl that you should coop me up at home! And when is this +likely to come to an end? Chang Te-hui is, moreover, a man well up in +years; and he is an old friend of our family, so if I go with him, how +ever will I be able to do anything that's wrong? Should I at any time be +guilty of any impropriety, he will be sure to speak to me, and to exhort +me. He even knows the prices of things and customs of trade; and as I +shall, as a matter of course, consult him in everything, what advantage +won't I enjoy? But if you refuse to let me go, I'll wait for a couple of +days, and, without breathing a word to any one at home, I'll furtively +make my preparations and start, and, when by next year I shall have made +my fortune and come back, you'll at length know what stuff I'm made +off!" + +When he had done speaking, he flew into a huff and went off to sleep. + +Mrs. Hsueeh felt impelled, after the arguments she heard him propound, to +deliberate with Pao-ch'ai. + +"If brother," Pao-ch'ai smilingly rejoined, "were in real earnest about +gaining experience in some legitimate concerns, it would be well and +good. But though he speaks, now that he is at home, in a plausible +manner, the moment he gets abroad, his old mania will break out again, +and it will be hard to exercise any check over him. Yet, it isn't worth +the while distressing yourself too much about him! If he does actually +mend his ways, it will be the happiness of our whole lives. But if he +doesn't change, you won't, mother, be able to do anything more; for +though, in part, it depends on human exertion, it, in part, depends upon +the will of heaven! If you keep on giving way to fears that, with his +lack of worldly experience, he can't be fit to go abroad and can't be up +to any business, and you lock him up at home this year, why next year +he'll be just the same! Such being the case, you'd better, ma,--since +his arguments are right and specious enough,--make up your mind to +sacrifice from eight hundred to a thousand taels and let him have them +for a try. He'll, at all events, have one of his partners to lend him a +helping hand, one who won't either think it a nice thing to play any of +his tricks upon him. In the second place, there will be, when he's gone, +no one to the left of him or to the right of him, to stand by him, and +no one upon whom to rely, for when one goes abroad, who cares for any +one else? Those who have, eat; and those who haven't starve. When he +therefore casts his eyes about him and realises that there's no one to +depend upon, he may, upon seeing this, be up to less mischief than were +he to stay at home; but of course, there's no saying." + +Mrs. Hsueeh listened to her, and communed within herself for a moment. +"What you say is, indeed, right and proper!" she remarked. "And could +one, by spending a small sum, make him learn something profitable, it +will be well worth!" + +They then matured their plans; and nothing further of any note +transpired during the rest of the night. + +The next day, Mrs. Hsueeh sent a messenger to invite Chang Te-hui to come +round. On his arrival, she charged Hsueeh P'an to regale him in the +library. Then appearing, in person, outside the window of the covered +back passage, she made thousand of appeals to Chang Te-hui to look after +her son and take good care of him. + +Chang Te-hui assented to her solicitations with profuse assurances, and +took his leave after the collation. + +"The fourteenth," he went on to explain to Hsueeh P'an. "is a propitious +day to start. So, worthy friend, you'd better be quick and pack up your +baggage, and hire a mule, for us to begin our long journey as soon as +the day dawns on the fourteenth." + +Hsueeh P'an was intensely gratified, and he communicated their plans to +Mrs. Hsueeh. Mrs. Hsueeh then set to, and worked away, with the assistance +of Pao-ch'ai, Hsiang Ling and two old nurses, for several consecutive +days, before she got his luggage ready. She fixed upon the husband of +Hsueeh P'an's nurse an old man with hoary head, two old servants with +ample experience and long services, and two young pages, who acted as +Hsueeh P'an's constant attendants, to go with him as his companions, so +the party mustered, inclusive of master and followers, six persons in +all. Three large carts were hired for the sole purpose of carrying the +baggage and requisites; and four mules, suitable for long journeys, were +likewise engaged. A tall, dark brown, home-bred mule was selected for +Hsueeh P'an's use; but a saddle horse, as well, was provided for him. + +After the various preparations had been effected, Mrs. Hsueeh, Pao-ch'ai +and the other inmates tendered him, night after night, words of advice. +But we can well dispense with dilating on this topic. On the arrival of +the thirteenth, Hsueeh P'an went and bade good-bye to his maternal +uncles. After which, he came and paid his farewell visit to the members +of the Chia household. Chia Chen and the other male relatives +unavoidably prepared an entertainment to speed him off. But to these +festivities, there is likewise little need to allude with any +minuteness. + +On the fourteenth, at break of day, Mrs. Hsueeh, Pao-ch'ai and the other +members of the family accompanied Hsueeh P'an beyond the ceremonial gate. +Here his mother and her daughter stood and watched him, their four eyes +fixed intently on him, until he got out of sight, when they, at length, +retraced their footsteps into the house. + +Mrs. Hsueeh had, in coming up to the capital, only brought four or five +family domestics and two or three old matrons and waiting-maids with +her, so, after the departure on the recent occasion, of those, who +followed Hsueeh P'an, no more than one or two men-servants remained in +the outer quarters. Mrs. Hsueeh repaired therefore on the very same day +into the study, and had the various ornaments, bric-a-brac, curtains and +other articles removed into the inner compound and put away. Then +bidding the wives of the two male attendants, who had gone with Hsueeh +P'an, likewise move their quarters inside, along with the other women, +she went on to impress upon Hsiang Ling to put everything carefully away +in her own room as well, and to lock the doors; "for," (she said), "you +must come at night and sleep with me." + +"Since you've got all these people to keep you company, ma," Pao-ch'ai +remarked, "wouldn't it be as well to tell sister Ling to come and be my +companion? Our garden is besides quite empty and the nights are so long! +And as I work away every night, won't it be better for me to have an +extra person with me?" + +"Quite so!" smiled Mrs. Hsueeh, "I forgot that! I should have told her to +go with you; it's but right. It was only the other day that I mentioned +to your brother that: 'Wen Hsing too was young, and not fit to attend to +everything that turns up, that Ying Erh could not alone do all the +waiting, and that it was necessary to purchase another girl for your +service.'" + +"If we buy one, we won't know what she's really like!" Pao-ch'ai +demurred. "If she gives us the slip, the money we may have spent on her +will be a mere trifle, so long as she hasn't been up to any pranks! So +let's quietly make inquiries, and, when we find one with well-known +antecedents, we can purchase her, and, we'll be on the safe side then!" + +While speaking, she told Hsiang Ling to collect her bedding and clothes; +and desiring an old matron and Ch'in Erh to take them over to the Heng +Wu Yuean, Pao-ch'ai returned at last into the garden in company with +Hsiang Ling. + +"I meant to have proposed to my lady," Hsiang Ling said to Pao-ch'ai, +"that, when master left, I should be your companion, miss; but I feared +lest her ladyship should, with that suspicious mind of hers, have +maintained that I was longing to come into the garden to romp. But who'd +have thought it, it was you, after all, who spoke to her about it!" + +"I am well aware," Pao-ch'ai smiled, "that you've been inwardly yearning +for this garden, and that not for a day or two, but with the little time +you can call your own, you would find it no fun, were you even able to +run over once in a day, so long as you have to do it in a hurry-scurry! +Seize therefore this opportunity of staying, better still, for a year; +as I, on my side, will then have an extra companion; and you, on yours, +will be able to accomplish your wishes." + +"My dear miss!" laughingly observed Hsiang Ling, "do let's make the best +of this time, and teach me how to write verses!" + +"I say," Pao-ch'ai laughed, "'you no sooner, get the Lung state than you +long for the Shu'! I advise you to wait a bit. This is the first day +that you spend in here, and you should, first and foremost, go out of +the garden by the eastern side gate and look up and salute every one in +her respective quarters commencing from our old lady. But you needn't +make it a point of telling them that you've moved into the garden. If +anyone does allude to the reason why you've shifted your quarters, you +can simply explain cursorily that I've brought you in as a companion, +and then drop the subject. On your return by and bye into the garden, +you can pay a visit to the apartments of each of the young ladies." + +Hsiang Ling signified her acquiescence, and was about to start when she +saw P'ing Erh rush in with hurried step. Hsiang Ling hastened to ask +after her health, and P'ing Erh felt compelled to return her smile, and +reciprocate her inquiry. + +"I've brought her in to-day," Pao-ch'ai thereupon smilingly said to +P'ing Erh, "to make a companion of her. She was just on the point of +going to tell your lady about it!" + +"What is this that you're saying, Miss?" P'ing Erh rejoined, with a +smile. "I really am at a loss what reply to make to you!" + +"It's the right thing!" Pao-ch'ai answered. "' In a house, there's the +master, and in a temple there's the chief priest.' It's true, it's no +important concern, but something must, in fact, be mentioned, so that +those, who sit up on night duty in the garden, may be aware that these +two have been added to my rooms, and know when to close the gates and +when to wait. When you get back therefore do mention it, so that I +mayn't have to send some one to tell them." + +P'ing Erh promised to carry out her wishes. "As you're moved in here," +she said to Hsiang Ling, "won't you go and pay your respects to your +neighbours?" + +"I had just this very moment," Pao-ch'ai smiled, "told her to go and do +so." + +"You needn't however go to our house," P'ing Erh remarked, "our Mr. +Secundus is laid up at home." + +Hsiang Ling assented and went off, passing first and foremost by dowager +lady Chia's apartments. But without devoting any of our attention to +her, we will revert to P'ing Erh. + +Seeing Hsiang Ling walk out of the room, she drew Pao-ch'ai near her. +"Miss! have you heard our news?" she inquired in a low tone of voice. + +"I haven't heard any news," Pao-ch'ai responded. "We've been daily so +busy in getting my brother's things ready for his voyage abroad, that we +know nothing whatever of any of your affairs in here. I haven't even +seen anything of my female cousins these last two days." + +"Our master, Mr. Chia She, has beaten our Mr. Secundus to such a degree +that he can't budge," P'ing Erh smiled. "But is it likely, miss, that +you've heard nothing about it?" + +"This morning," Pao-ch'ai said by way of reply, "I heard a vague report +on the subject, but I didn't believe it could be true. I was just about +to go and look up your mistress, when you unexpectedly arrived. But why +did he beat him again?" + +P'ing Erh set her teeth to and gave way to abuse. "It's all on account +of some Chia Yue-ts'un or other; a starved and half-dead boorish bastard, +who went yonder quite unexpectedly. It isn't yet ten years, since we've +known him, and he has been the cause of ever so much trouble! In the +spring of this year, Mr. Chia She saw somewhere or other, I can't tell +where, a lot of antique fans; so, when on his return home, he noticed +that the fine fans stored away in the house, were all of no use, he at +once directed servants to go everywhere and hunt up some like those he +had seen. Who'd have anticipated it, they came across a reckless +creature of retribution, dubbed by common consent the 'stone fool,' who +though so poor as to not even have any rice to put to his mouth, +happened to have at home twenty antique fans. But these he utterly +refused to take out of his main door. Our Mr. Secundus had thus a +precious lot of bother to ask ever so many favours of people. But when +he got to see the man, he made endless appeals to him before he could +get him to invite him to go and sit in his house; when producing the +fans, he allowed him to have a short inspection of them. From what our +Mr. Secundus says, it would be really difficult to get any the like of +them. They're made entirely of spotted black bamboo, and the stags and +jadelike clusters of bamboo on them are the genuine pictures, drawn by +men of olden times. When he got back, he explained these things to Mr. +Chia She, who readily asked him to buy them, and give the man his own +price for them. The 'stone fool,' however, refused. 'Were I even to be +dying from hunger,' he said, 'or perishing from frostbites, and so much +as a thousand taels were offered me for each single fan, I wouldn't part +with them.' Mr. Chia She could do nothing, but day after day he abused +our Mr. Secundus as a good-for-nothing. Yet he had long ago promised the +man five hundred taels, payable cash down in advance, before delivery of +the fans, but he would not sell them. 'If you want the fans,' he had +answered, 'you must first of all take my life.' Now, miss, do consider +what was to be done? But, Yue-ts'un is, as it happens, a man with no +regard for divine justice. Well, when he came to hear of it, he at once +devised a plan to lay hold of these fans, so fabricating the charge +against him of letting a government debt drag on without payment, he had +him arrested and brought before him in the Yamen; when he adjudicated +that his family property should be converted into money to make up the +amount due to the public chest; and, confiscating the fans in question, +he set an official value on them and sent them over here. And as for +that 'stone fool,' no one now has the faintest idea whether he be dead +or alive. Mr. Chia She, however, taunted Mr. Secundus. 'How is it,' he +said, 'that other people can manage to get them?' Our master simply +rejoined 'that to bring ruin upon a person in such a trivial matter +could not be accounted ability.' But, at these words, his father +suddenly rushed into a fury, and averred that Mr. Secundus had said +things to gag his mouth. This was the main cause. But several minor +matters, which I can't even recollect, also occurred during these last +few days. So, when all these things accumulated, he set to work and gave +him a sound thrashing. He didn't, however, drag him down and strike him +with a rattan or cane, but recklessly assaulted him, while he stood +before him, with something or other, which he laid hold of, and broke +his face open in two places. We understand that Mrs. Hsueeh has in here +some medicine or other for applying on wounds, so do try, miss, and find +a ball of it and let me have it!" + +Hearing this, Pao-ch'ai speedily directed Ying Erh to go and look for +some, and, on discovering two balls of it, she brought them over and +handed them to P'ing Erh. + +"Such being the case," Pao-ch'ai said, "do make, on your return, the +usual inquiries for me, and I won't then need to go." + +P'ing Erh turned towards Pao-ch'ai, and expressed her readiness to +execute her commission, after which she betook herself home, where we +will leave her without further notice. + +After Hsiang Ling, for we will take up the thread of our narrative with +her, completed her visits to the various inmates, she had her evening +meal. Then when Pao-ch'ai and every one else went to dowager lady Chia's +quarters, she came into the Hsiao Hsiang lodge. By this time Tai-yue had +got considerably better. Upon hearing that Hsiang Ling had also moved +into the garden, she, needless to say, was filled with delight. + +"Now, that I've come in here," Hsiang Ling then smiled and said, "do +please teach me, at your leisure, how to write verses. It will be a bit +of good luck for me if you do." + +"Since you're anxious to learn how to versify," Tai-yue answered with a +smile, "you'd better acknowledge me as your tutor; for though I'm not a +good hand at poetry, yet I know, after all, enough to be able to teach +you." + +"Of course you do!" Hsiang Ling laughingly remarked. "I'll readily treat +you as my tutor. But you mustn't put yourself to any trouble!" + +"Is there anything so difficult about this," Tai-yue pursued, "as to make +it necessary to go in for any study? Why, it's purely and simply a +matter of openings, elucidations, embellishments and conclusions. The +elucidations and embellishments, which come in the centre, should form +two antithetical sentences, the even tones must pair with the uneven. +Empty words must correspond with full words; and full words with empty +words. In the event of any out-of-the-way lines, it won't matter if the +even and uneven tones, and the empty and full words do not pair." + +"Strange though it may appear," smiled Hsiang Ling, "I often handle +books with old poems, and read one or two stanzas, whenever I can steal +the time; and some among these I find pair most skilfully, while others +don't. I have also heard that the first, third and fifth lines are of no +consequence; and that the second, fourth and sixth must be clearly +distinguished. But I notice that there are in the poetical works of +ancient writers both those which accord with the rules, as well as those +whose second, fourth and sixth lines are not in compliance with any +rule. Hence it is that my mind has daily been full of doubts. But after +the hints you've given me, I really see that all these formulas are of +no account, and that the main requirement is originality of diction." + +"Yes, that's just the principle that holds good," Tai-yue answered. "But +diction is, after all, a last consideration. The first and foremost +thing is the choice of proper sentiments; for when the sentiments are +correct, there'll even be no need to polish the diction; it's certain to +be elegant. This is called versifying without letting the diction affect +the sentiments." + +"What I admire," Hsiang Ling proceeded with a smile; "are the lines by +old Lu Fang; + + "The double portiere, when not raised, retains the fragrance long. + An old inkslab, with a slight hole, collects plenty of ink. + +"Their language is so clear that it's charming." + +"You must on no account," Tai-yue observed, "read poetry of the kind. +It's because you people don't know what verses mean that you, no sooner +read any shallow lines like these, than they take your fancy. But when +once you get into this sort of style, it's impossible to get out of it. +Mark my words! If you are in earnest about learning, I've got here Wang +Mo-chieh's complete collection; so you'd better take his one hundred +stanzas, written in the pentameter rule of versification, and carefully +study them, until you apprehend them thoroughly. Afterwards, look over +the one hundred and twenty stanzas of Lao T'u, in the heptameter rule; +and next read a hundred or two hundred of the heptameter four-lined +stanzas by Li Ch'ing-lieu. When you have, as a first step, digested +these three authors, and made them your foundation, you can take T'ao +Yuan-ming, Ying, Liu, Hsieh, Yuean, Yue, Pao and other writers and go +through them once. And with those sharp and quick wits of yours, I've no +doubt but that you will become a regular poet before a year's time." + +"Well, in that case," Hsiang Ling smiled, after listening to her, "bring +me the book, my dear miss, so that I may take it along. It will be a +good thing if I can manage to read several stanzas at night." + +At these words, Tai-yue bade Tzu Chuean fetch Wang Tso-ch'eng's pentameter +stanzas. When brought, she handed them to Hsiang Ling. "Only peruse +those marked with red circles" she said. "They've all been selected by +me. Read each one of them; and should there be any you can't fathom, ask +your miss about them. Or when you come across me, I can explain them to +you." + +Hsiang Ling took the poems and repaired back to the Heng Wu-yuean. And +without worrying her mind about anything she approached the lamp and +began to con stanza after stanza. Pao-ch'ai pressed her, several +consecutive times, to go to bed; but as even rest was far from her +thoughts, Pao-ch'ai let her, when she perceived what trouble she was +taking over her task, have her own way in the matter. + +Tai-yue had one day just finished combing her hair and performing her +ablutions, when she espied Hsiang Ling come with smiles playing about +her lips, to return her the book and to ask her to let her have T'u's +poetical compositions in exchange. + +"Of all these, how many stanzas can you recollect?" Tai-yue asked, +smiling. + +"I've read every one of those marked with a red circle," Hsiang Ling +laughingly rejoined. + +"Have you caught the ideas of any of them, yes or no?" Tai-yue inquired. + +"Yes, I've caught some!" Hsiang Ling smiled. "But whether rightly or not +I don't know. Let me tell you." + +"You must really," Tai-yue laughingly remarked, "minutely solicit +people's opinions if you want to make any progress. But go on and let me +hear you." + +"From all I can see," Hsiang Ling smiled, "the beauty of poetry lies in +certain ideas, which though not quite expressible in words are, +nevertheless, found, on reflection, to be absolutely correct. Some may +have the semblance of being totally devoid of sense, but, on second +thought, they'll truly be seen to be full of sense and feeling." + +"There's a good deal of right in what you say," Tai-yue observed. "But I +wonder how you arrived at this conclusion?" + +"I notice in that stanza on 'the borderland,' the antithetical couplet: + + "In the vast desert reigns but upright mist. + In the long river setteth the round sun. + +"Consider now how ever can mist be upright? The sun is, of course, round. +But the word 'upright' would seem to be devoid of common sense; and +'round' appears far too commonplace a word. But upon throwing the whole +passage together, and pondering over it, one fancies having seen the +scenery alluded to. Now were any one to suggest that two other +characters should be substituted for these two, one would verily be hard +pressed to find any other two as suitable. Besides this, there's also +the couplet: + + "When the sun sets, rivers and lakes are white; + When the mist falls, the heavens and earth azure. + +"Both 'white' and 'azure', apparently too lack any sense; but reflection +will show that these two words are absolutely necessary to bring out +thoroughly the aspect of the scenery. And in conning them over, one +feels just as if one had an olive, weighing several thousands of +catties, in one's mouth, so much relish does one derive from them. But +there's this too: + + "At the ferry stays the setting sun, + O'er the mart hangs the lonesome mist. + +"And how much trouble must these words 'stay,' and 'over, have caused the +author in their conception! When the boats made fast, in the evening of +a certain day of that year in which we came up to the capital, the banks +were without a trace of human beings; and there were only just a few +trees about; in the distance loomed the houses of several families +engaged in preparing their evening meal, and the mist was, in fact, +azure like jade, and connected like clouds. So, when I, as it happened, +read this couplet last night, it actually seemed to me as if I had come +again to that spot!" + +But in the course of their colloquy, Pao-yue and T'an Ch'un arrived; and +entering the room, they seated themselves, and lent an ear to her +arguments on the verses. + +"Seeing that you know so much," Pao-yue remarked with a smiling face, +"you can dispense with reading poetical works, for you're not far off +from proficiency. To hear you expatiate on these two lines, makes it +evident to my mind that you've even got at their secret meaning." + +"You say," argued Tai-yue with a significant smile, "that the line: + + "'O'er (the mart) hangs the lonesome mist,' + +"is good; but aren't you yet aware that this is only plagiarised from an +ancient writer? But I'll show you the line I'm telling you of. You'll +find it far plainer and clearer than this." + +While uttering these words, she turned up T'ao Yuean-ming's, + + Dim in the distance lies a country place; + Faint in the hamlet-market hangs the mist; + +and handed it to Hsiang Ling. + +Hsiang Ling perused it, and, nodding her head, she eulogised it. +"Really," she smiled, the word 'over' is educed from the two characters +implying 'faint.' + +Pao-yue burst out into a loud fit of exultant laughter. "You've already +got it!" he cried. "There's no need of explaining anything more to you! +Any further explanations will, in lieu of benefiting you, make you +unlearn what you've learnt. Were you therefore to, at once, set to work, +and versify, your lines are bound to be good." + +"To-morrow," observed T'an ch'un with a smile; "I'll stand an extra +treat and invite you to join the society." + +"Why make a fool of me, miss?" Hsiang Ling laughingly ejaculated. "It's +merely that mania of mine that made me apply my mind to this subject at +all; just for fun and no other reason." + +T'an Ch'un and Tai-yue both smiled. "Who doesn't go in for these things +for fun?" they asked. "Is it likely that we improvise verses in real +earnest? Why, if any one treated our verses as genuine verses, and took +them outside this garden, people would have such a hearty laugh at our +expense that their very teeth would drop." + +"This is again self-violence and self-abasement!" Pao-yue interposed. The +other day, I was outside the garden, consulting with the gentlemen about +paintings, and, when they came to hear that we had started a poetical +society, they begged of me to let them have the rough copies to read. So +I wrote out several stanzas, and gave them to them to look over, and who +did not praise them with all sincerity? They even copied them and took +them to have the blocks cut." + +"Are you speaking the truth?" T'an Ch'un and Tai-yue eagerly inquired. + +"If I'm telling a lie," Pao-yue laughed, "I'm like that cockatoo on that +frame!" + +"You verily do foolish things!" Tai-yue and T'an Ch'un exclaimed with one +voice, at these words. "But not to mention that they were doggerel +lines, had they even been anything like what verses should be, our +writings shouldn't have been hawked about outside." + +"What's there to fear?" Pao-yue smiled. "Hadn't the writings of women of +old been handed outside the limits of the inner chambers, why, there +would, at present, be no one with any idea of their very existence." + +While he passed this remark, they saw Ju Hua arrive from Hsi Ch'un's +quarters to ask Pao-yue to go over; and Pao-yue eventually took his +departure. + +Hsiang Ling then pressed (Tai-yue) to give her T'u's poems. "Do choose +some theme," she also asked Tai-yue and T'an Ch'un, "and let me go and +write on it. When I've done, I'll bring it for you to correct." + +"Last night," Tai-yue observed, "the moon was so magnificent, that I +meant to improvise a stanza on it; but as I haven't done yet, go at once +and write one using the fourteenth rhyme, 'han,' (cool). You're at +liberty to make use of whatever words you fancy." + +Hearing this, Hsiang Ling was simply delighted, and taking the poems, +she went back. After considerable exertion, she succeeded in devising a +couplet, but so little able was she to tear herself away from the 'T'u' +poems, that she perused another couple of stanzas, until she had no +inclination for either tea or food, and she felt in an unsettled mood, +try though she did to sit or recline. + +"Why," Pao-ch'ai remonstrated, "do you bring such trouble upon yourself? +It's that P'in Erh, who has led you on to it! But I'll settle accounts +with her! You've all along been a thick-headed fool; but now that you've +burdened yourself with all this, you've become a greater fool." + +"Miss," smiled Hsiang Ling, "don't confuse me." + +So saying, she set to work and put together a stanza, which she first +and foremost handed to Pao-ch'ai to look over. + +"This isn't good!" Pao-ch'ai smilingly said. "This isn't the way to do +it! Don't fear of losing face, but take it and give it to her to peruse. +We'll see what she says." + +At this suggestion, Hsiang Ling forthwith went with her verses in search +of Tai-yue. When Tai-yue came to read them, she found their text to be: + + The night grows cool, what time Selene reacheth the mid-heavens. + Her radiance pure shineth around with such a spotless sheen. + Bards oft for inspiration raise on her their thoughts and eyes. + The rustic daren't see her, so fears he to enhance his grief. + Jade mirrors are suspended near the tower of malachite. + An icelike plate dangles outside the gem-laden portiere. + The eve is fine, so why need any silvery candles burn? + A clear light shines with dazzling lustre on the painted rails. + +"There's a good deal of spirit in them," Tai-yue smiled, "but the +language is not elegant. It's because you've only read a few poetical +works that you labour under restraint. Now put this stanza aside and +write another. Pluck up your courage and go and work away." + +After listening to her advice, Hsiang Ling quietly wended her way back, +but so much the more (preoccupied) was she in her mind that she did not +even enter the house, but remaining under the trees, planted by the side +of the pond, she either seated herself on a rock and plunged in a +reverie, or squatted down and dug the ground, to the astonishment of all +those, who went backwards and forwards. Li wan, Pao-ch'ai, T'an Ch'un, +Pao-yue and some others heard about her; and, taking their position some +way off on the mound, they watched her, much amused. At one time, they +saw her pucker up her eyebrows; and at another smile to herself. + +"That girl must certainly be cracked!" Pao-ch'ai laughed. "Last night +she kept on muttering away straight up to the fifth watch, when she at +last turned in. But shortly, daylight broke, and I heard her get up and +comb her hair, all in a hurry, and rush after P'in Erh. In a while, +however, she returned; and, after acting like an idiot the whole day, +she managed to put together a stanza. But it wasn't after all, good, so +she's, of course, now trying to devise another." + +"This indeed shows," Pao-yue laughingly remarked, "that the earth is +spiritual, that man is intelligent, and that heaven does not in the +creation of human beings bestow on them natural gifts to no purpose. +We've been sighing and lamenting that it was a pity that such a one as +she, should, really, be so unpolished; but who could ever have +anticipated that things would, in the long run, reach the present pass? +This is a clear sign that heaven and earth are most equitable!" + +"If only," smiled Pao-ch'ai, at these words, "you could be as +painstaking as she is, what a good thing it would be. And would you fail +to attain success in anything you might take up?" + +Pao-yue made no reply. But realising that Hsiang Ling had crossed over in +high spirits to find Tai-yue again, T'an Ch'un laughed and suggested, +"Let's follow her there, and see whether her composition is any good." + +At this proposal, they came in a body to the Hsiao Hsiang lodge. Here +they discovered Tai-yue holding the verses and explaining various things +to her. + +"What are they like?" they all thereupon inquired of Tai-yue. + +"This is naturally a hard job for her!" Tai-yue rejoined. "They're not +yet as good as they should be. This stanza is far too forced; you must +write another." + +One and all however expressed a desire to look over the verses. On +perusal, they read: + + 'Tis not silver, neither water that on the windows shines so cold. + Selene, mark! covers, like a jade platter, the clear vault of heaven. + What time the fragrance faint of the plum bloom is fain to tinge the + air, + The dew-bedecked silken willow trees begin to lose their leaves. + 'Tis the remains of powder which methinks besmear the golden steps. + Her lustrous rays enshroud like light hoar-frost the jadelike + balustrade. + When from my dreams I wake, in the west tower, all human trace is + gone. + Her slanting orb can yet clearly be seen across the bamboo screen. + +"It doesn't sound like a song on the moon," Pao-ch'ai smilingly +observed. "Yet were, after the word 'moon', that of 'light' supplied, it +would be better; for, just see, if each of these lines treated of the +moonlight, they would be all right. But poetry primarily springs from +nonsensical language. In a few days longer, you'll be able to do well." + +Hsiang Ling had flattered herself that this last stanza was perfect, and +the criticisms, that fell on her ear, damped her spirits again. She was +not however disposed to relax in her endeavours, but felt eager to +commune with her own thoughts, so when she perceived the young ladies +chatting and laughing, she betook herself all alone to the bamboo-grove +at the foot of the steps; where she racked her brain, and ransacked her +mind with such intentness that her ears were deaf to everything around +her and her eyes blind to everything beyond her task. + +"Miss Ling," T'an Ch'un presently cried, smiling from inside the window, +"do have a rest!" + +"The character 'rest;'" Hsiang Ling nervously replied, "comes from lot +N. deg. 15, under 'shan', (to correct); so it's the wrong rhyme." + +This rambling talk made them involuntarily burst out laughing. + +"In very fact," Pao-sh'ai laughed, "she's under a poetical frenzy, and +it's all P'in Erh who has incited her." + +"The holy man says," Tai-yue smilingly rejoined, "that 'one must not be +weary of exhorting people'; and if she comes, time and again, to ask me +this and that how can I possibly not tell her?" + +"Let's take her to Miss Quarta's rooms," Li Wan smiled, "and if we could +coax her to look at the painting, and bring her to her senses, it will +be well." + +Speaking the while, she actually walked out of the room, and laying hold +of her, she brought her through the Lotus Fragrance arbour to the bank +of Warm Fragrance. Hsi Ch'un was tired and languid, and was lying on the +window, having a midday siesta. The painting was resting against the +partition-wall, and was screened with a gauze cover. With one voice, +they roused Hsi Ch'un, and raising the gauze cover to contemplate her +work, they saw that three tenths of it had already been accomplished. +But their attention was attracted by the representation of several +beautiful girls, inserted in the picture, so pointing at Hsiang Ling: +"Every one who can write verses is to be put here," they said, "so be +quick and learn." + +But while conversing, they played and laughed for a time, after which, +each went her own way. + +Hsiang Ling was meanwhile preoccupied about her verses, so, when evening +came, she sat facing the lamp absorbed in thought. And the third watch +struck before she got to bed. But her eyes were so wide awake, that it +was only after the fifth watch had come and gone, that she, at length, +felt drowsy and fell fast asleep. + +Presently, the day dawned, and Pao-ch'ai woke up; but, when she lent an +ear, she discovered (Hsiang Ling) in a sound sleep. "She has racked her +brains the whole night long," she pondered. "I wonder, however, whether +she has succeeded in finishing her task. She must be tired now, so I +won't disturb her." + +But in the midst of her cogitations, she heard Hsiang Ling laugh and +exclaim in her sleep: "I've got it. It cannot be that this stanza too +won't be worth anything." + +"How sad and ridiculous!" Pao-ch'ai soliloquised with a smile. And, +calling her by name, she woke her up. "What have you got?" she asked. +"With that firmness of purpose of yours, you could even become a spirit! +But before you can learn how to write poetry, you'll be getting some +illness." + +Chiding her the while, she combed her hair and washed; and, this done, +she repaired, along with her cousins, into dowager lady Chia's quarters. + +Hsiang Ling made, in fact, such desperate efforts to learn all about +poetry that her system got quite out of order. But although she did not +in the course of the day hit upon anything, she quite casually succeeded +in her dreams in devising eight lines; so concluding her toilette and +her ablutions, she hastily jotted them down, and betook herself into the +Hsin Fang pavilion. Here she saw Li Wan and the whole bevy of young +ladies, returning from Madame Wang's suite of apartments. + +Pao-ch'ai was in the act of telling them of the verses composed by +Hsiang Ling, while asleep, and of the nonsense she had been talking, and +every one of them was convulsed with laughter. But upon raising their +heads, and perceiving that she was approaching, they vied with each +other in pressing her to let them see her composition. + +But, reader, do you wish to know any further particulars? If you do; +read those given in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + + White snow and red plum blossom in the crystal world. + The pretty girl, fragrant with powder, cuts some meat and eats it. + + +Hsiang Ling, we will now proceed, perceived the young ladies engaged in +chatting and laughing, and went up to them with a smiling countenance. +"Just you look at this stanza!" she said. "If it's all right, then I'll +continue my studies; but if it isn't worth any thing, I'll banish at +once from my mind all idea of going in for versification." + +With these words, she handed the verses to Tai-yue and her companions. +When they came to look at them, they found this to be their burden: + + If thou would'st screen Selene's beauteous sheen, thou'lt find it + hard. + Her shadows are by nature full of grace, frigid her form. + A row of clothes-stones batter, while she lights a thousand li. + When her disc's half, and the cock crows at the fifth watch, 'tis + cold. + Wrapped in my green cloak in autumn, I hear flutes on the stream. + While in the tower the red-sleeved maid leans on the rails at night. + She feels also constrained to ask of the goddess Ch'ang O: + 'Why it is that she does not let the moon e'er remain round?' + +"This stanza is not only good," they with one voice exclaimed, after +perusing it, "but it's original, it's charming. It bears out the +proverb: 'In the world, there's nothing difficult; the only thing hard +to get at is a human being with a will.' We'll certainly ask you to join +our club." + +Hsiang Ling caught this remark; but so little did she credit it that +fancying that they were making fun of her, she still went on to press +Tai-yue, Pao-ch'ai and the other girls to give her their opinions. But +while engaged in speaking, she spied a number of young waiting-maids, +and old matrons come with hurried step. "Several young ladies and ladies +have come," they announced smilingly, "but we don't know any of them. So +your ladyship and you, young ladies, had better come at once and see +what relatives they are." + +"What are you driving at?" Li Wan laughed. "You might, after all, state +distinctly whose relatives they are." + +"Your ladyship's two young sisters have come," the matrons and maids +rejoined smiling. "There's also another young lady, who says she's miss +Hsueeh's cousin, and a gentleman who pretends to be Mr. Hsueeh P'an's +junior cousin. We are now off to ask Mrs. Hsueeh to meet them. But your +ladyship and the young ladies might go in advance and greet them." As +they spoke, they straightway took their leave. + +"Has our Hsueeh K'o come along with his sisters?" Pao-ch'ai inquired, +with a smile. + +"My aunt has probably also come to the capital," Li Wan laughed. "How is +it they've all arrived together? This is indeed a strange thing!" Then +adjourning in a body into Madame Wang's drawing rooms, they saw the +floor covered with a black mass of people. + +Madame Hsing's sister-in-law was there as well. She had entered the +capital with her daughter, Chou Yen, to look up madame Hsing. But lady +Feng's brother, Wang Jen, had, as luck would have it, just been +preparing to start for the capital, so the two family connexions set out +in company for their common destination. After accomplishing half their +journey, they encountered, while their boats were lying at anchor, Li +Wan's widowed sister-in-law, who also was on her way to the metropolis, +with her two girls, the elder of whom was Li Wen and the younger Li +Ch'i. They all them talked matters over, and, induced by the ties of +relationship, the three families prosecuted their voyage together. But +subsequently, Hsueeh P'an's cousin Hsueeh K'o,--whose father had, when on +a visit years ago to the capital, engaged his uterine sister to the son +of the Han-lin Mei, whose residence was in the metropolis,--came while +planning to go and consummate the marriage, to learn of Wang Jen's +departure, so taking his sister with him, he kept in his track till he +managed to catch him up. Hence it happened that they all now arrived in +a body to look up their respective relatives. In due course, they +exchanged the conventional salutations; and these over, they had a chat. + +Dowager lady Chia and madame Wang were both filled with ineffable +delight. + +"Little wonder is it," smiled old lady Chia, "if the snuff of the lamp +crackled time and again; and if it formed and reformed into a head! It +was, indeed, sure to come to this to-day!" + +While she conversed on every-day topics, the presents had to be put +away; and, as she, at the same time, expressed a wish to keep the new +arrivals to partake of some wine and eatables, lady Feng had, needless +to say, much extra work added to her ordinary duties. + +Li Wan and Pao-ch'ai descanted, of course, with their aunts and cousins +on the events that had transpired since their separation. But Tai-yue, +though when they first met, continued in cheerful spirits, could not +again, when the recollection afterwards flashed through her mind that +one and all had their relatives, and that she alone had not a soul to +rely upon, avoid withdrawing out of the way, and giving vent to tears. + +Pao-yue, however, read her feelings, and he had to do all that lay in his +power to exhort her and to console her for a time before she cheered up. +Pao-yue then hurried into the I Hung court. Going up to Hsi Jen, She Yueeh +and Chi'ng Wen: "Don't you yet hasten to go and see them?" he smiled. +"Who'd ever have fancied that cousin Pao-ch'ai's own cousin would be +what he is? That cousin of hers is so unique in appearance and in +deportment. He looks as if he were cousin Pao-ch'ai's uterine younger +brother. But what's still more odd is, that you should have kept on +saying the whole day long that cousin Pao-ch'ai is a very beautiful +creature. You should now see her cousin, as well as the two girls of her +senior sister-in-law. I couldn't adequately tell you what they're like. +Good heavens! Good heavens! What subtle splendour and spiritual beauty +must you possess to produce beings like them, so superior to other human +creatures! How plain it is that I'm like a frog wallowing at the bottom +of a well! I've throughout every hour of the day said to myself that +nowhere could any girls be found to equal those at present in our home; +but, as it happens, I haven't had far to look! Even in our own native +sphere, one would appear to eclipse the other! Here I have now managed +to add one more stratum to my store of learning! But can it possibly be +that outside these few, there can be any more like them?" + +As he uttered these sentiments, he smiled to himself. But Hsi Jen +noticed how much under the influence of his insane fits he once more +was, and she promptly abandoned all idea of going over to pay her +respects to the visitors. + +Ch'ing Wen and the other girls had already gone and seen them and come +back. Putting on a smile, "You'd better," they urged Hsi Jen, "be off at +once and have a look at them. Our elder mistress' niece, Miss Pao's +cousin, and our senior lady's two sisters resemble a bunch of four leeks +so pretty are they!" + +But scarcely were these words out of their lips, than they perceived +T'an Ch'un too enter the room, beaming with smiles. She came in quest of +Pao-yue. + +"Our poetical society is in a flourishing way," she remarked. + +"It is," smiled Pao-yue. "Here no sooner do we, in the exuberance of our +spirits, start a poetical society, than the devils and gods bring +through their agency, all these people in our midst! There's only one +thing however. Have they, I wonder, ever learnt how to write poetry or +not?" + +"I just now asked every one of them," T'an Ch'un replied. "Their ideas +of themselves are modest, it's true, yet from all I can gather there's +not one who can't versify. But should there even be any who can't, +there's nothing hard about it. Just look at Hsiang Ling. Her case will +show you the truth of what I say." + +"Of the whole lot," smiled Ch'ing Wen, "Miss Hsueeh's cousin carries the +palm. What do you think about her, Miss Tertia?" + +"It's really so!" T'an Ch'un responded. "In my own estimation, even her +elder cousin and all this bevy of girls are not fit to hold a candle to +her!" + +Hsi Jen felt much surprise at what she heard. "This is indeed odd!" she +smiled. "Whence could one hunt up any better? We'd like to go and have a +peep at her." + +"Our venerable senior," T'an Ch'un observed, "was at the very first +sight of her so charmed with her that there's nothing she wouldn't do. +She has already compelled our Madame Hsing to adopt her as a godchild. +Our dear ancestor wishes to bring her up herself; this point was settled +a little while back." + +Pao-yue went into ecstasies. "Is this a fact?" he eagerly inquired. + +"How often have I gone in for yarns?" T'an Ch'un said. "Now that our +worthy senior," continuing, she laughed, "has got this nice +granddaughter, she has banished from her mind all thought of a grandson +like you!" + +"Never mind," answered Pao-yue smiling. "It's only right that girls +should be more doated upon. But to-morrow is the sixteenth, so we should +have a meeting." + +"That girl Lin Tai-yue is no sooner out of bed," T'an Ch'un remarked, +"than cousin Secunda falls ill again. Everything is, in fact, up and +down!" + +"Our cousin Secunda," Pao-yue explained, "doesn't also go in very much +for verses, so, what would it matter if she were left out?" + +"It would be well to wait a few days," T'an Ch'un urged, "until the new +comers have had time to see enough of us to become intimate. We can then +invite them to join us. Won't this be better? Our senior sister-in-law +and cousin Pao have now no mind for poetry. Besides, Hsiang-yuen has not +arrived. P'in Erh is just over her sickness. The members are not all +therefore in a fit state, so wouldn't it be preferable if we waited +until that girl Yuen came? The new arrivals will also have a chance of +becoming friendly. P'in Erh will likewise recover entirely. Our senior +sister-in-law and cousin Pao will have time to compose their minds; and +Hsiang Ling to improve in her verses. We shall then be able to convene a +full meeting; and won't it be better? You and I must now go over to our +worthy ancestor's, on the other side, and hear what's up. But, barring +cousin Pao-ch'ai's cousin,--for we needn't take her into account, as +it's sure to have been decided that she should live in our home,--if the +other three are not to stay here with us, we should entreat our +grandmother to let them as well take up their quarters in the garden. +And if we succeed in adding a few more to our number, won't it be more +fun for us?" + +Pao-yue at these words was so much the more gratified that his very +eyebrows distended, and his eyes laughed. "You've got your wits about +you!" he speedily exclaimed. "My mind is ever so dull! I've vainly given +way to a fit of joy. But to think of these contingencies was beyond me!" + +So saying the two cousins repaired together to their grandmother's suite +of apartments; where, in point of fact, Madame Wang had already gone +through the ceremony of recognizing Hsueeh Pao-ch'in as her godchild. +Dowager lady Chia's fascination for her, however, was so much out of the +common run that she did not tell her to take up her quarters in the +garden. Of a night, she therefore slept with old lady Chia in the same +rooms; while Hsueeh K'o put up in Hsueeh P'an's study. + +"Your niece needn't either return home," dowager lady Chia observed to +Madame Hsing. "Let her spend a few days in the garden and see the place +before she goes." + +Madame Hsing's brother and sister-in-law were, indeed, in straitened +circumstances at home. So much so that they had, on their present visit +to the capital, actually to rely upon such accommodation as Madame Hsing +could procure for them and upon such help towards their travelling +expenses as she could afford to give them. When she consequently heard +her proposal, Madame Hsing was, of course, only too glad to comply with +her wishes, and readily she handed Hsing Chou-yen to the charge of lady +Feng. But lady Feng, bethinking herself of the number of young ladies +already in the garden, of their divergent dispositions and, above all +things, of the inconvenience of starting a separate household, deemed it +advisable to send her to live along with Ying Ch'un; for in the event, +(she thought), of Hsing Chou-yen meeting afterwards with any +contrarieties, she herself would be clear of all responsibility, even +though Madame Hsing came to hear about them. Deducting, therefore any +period, spent by Hsing Chou-yen on a visit home, lady Feng allowed Hsing +Chou-yen as well, if she extended her stay in the garden of Broad Vista +for any time over a month, an amount equal to that allotted to Ying +Ch'un. + +Lady Feng weighed with unprejudiced eye Hsing Chou-yen's temperament and +deportment. She found in her not the least resemblance to Madame Hsing, +or even to her father and mother; but thought her a most genial and +love-inspiring girl. This consideration actuated lady Feng (not to deal +harshly with her), but to pity her instead for the poverty, in which +they were placed at home, and for the hard lot she had to bear, and to +treat her with far more regard than she did any of the other young +ladies. Madame Hsing, however, did not lavish much attention on her. + +Dowager lady Chia, Madame Wang and the rest had all along been fond of +Li Wan for her virtuous and benevolent character. Besides, her +continence in remaining a widow at her tender age commanded general +esteem. When they therefore now saw her husbandless sister-in-law come +to pay her a visit, they would not allow her to go and live outside the +mansion. Her sister-in-law was, it is true, extremely opposed to the +proposal, but as dowager lady Chia was firm in her determination, she +had no other course but to settle down, along with Li Wen and Li Ch'i, +in the Tao Hsiang village. + +They had by this time assigned quarters to all the new comers, when, who +would have thought it, Shih Ting, Marquis of Chung Ching, was once again +appointed to a high office in another province, and he had shortly to +take his family and proceed to his post. But so little could old lady +Chia brook the separation from Hsiang-yuen that she kept her behind and +received her in her own home. Her original idea was to have asked lady +Feng to have separate rooms arranged for her, but Shih Hsiang-yuen was so +obstinate in her refusal, her sole wish being to put up with Pao-ch'ai, +that the idea had, in consequence, to be abandoned. + +At this period, the garden of Broad Vista was again much more full of +life than it had ever been before. Li Wan was the chief inmate. The rest +consisted of Ying Ch'un, T'an Ch'un, Hsi Ch'un, Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yue, +Hsiang-yuen, Li Wen, Li Ch'i, Pao Ch'in and Hsing Chou-yen. In addition +to these, there were lady Feng and Pao-yue, so that they mustered +thirteen in all. As regards age, irrespective of Li Wan, who was by far +the eldest, and lady Feng, who came next, the other inmates did not +exceed fourteen, sixteen or seventeen. But the majority of them had come +into the world in the same year, though in different months, so they +themselves could not remember distinctly who was senior, and who junior. +Even dowager lady Chia, Madame Wang and the matrons and maids in the +household were unable to tell the differences between them with any +accuracy, given as they were to the simple observance of addressing +themselves promiscuously and quite at random by the four words +representing 'female cousin' and 'male cousin.' + +Hsiang Ling was gratifying her wishes to her heart's content and +devoting her mind exclusively to the composition of verses, not +presuming however to make herself too much of a nuisance to Pao-ch'ai, +when, by a lucky coincidence, Shih Hsiang-yuen came on the scene. But how +was it possible for one so loquacious as Hsiang-yuen to avoid the subject +of verses, when Hsiang Ling repeatedly begged her for explanations? This +inspirited her so much the more, that not a day went by, yea not a +single night, on which she did not start some loud argument and lengthy +discussion. + +"You really," Pao-ch'ai felt impelled to laugh, "kick up such a din, +that it's quite unbearable! Fancy a girl doing nothing else than turning +poetry into a legitimate thing for raising an argument! Why, were some +literary persons to hear you, they would, instead of praising you, have +a laugh at your expense, and say that you don't mind your own business. +We hadn't yet got rid of Hsiang Ling with all her rubbish, and here we +have a chatterbox like you thrown on us! But what is it that that mouth +of yours keeps on jabbering? What about the bathos of Tu Kung-pu; and +the unadorned refinement of Wei Su-chou? What also about Wen Pa-ch'a's +elegant diction; and Li I-shan's abstruseness? A pack of silly fools +that you are! Do you in any way behave like girls should?" + +These sneers evoked laughter from both Hsiang Ling and Hsiang-yuen. But +in the course of their conversation, they perceived Pao-ch'in drop in, +with a waterproof wrapper thrown over her, so dazzling with its gold and +purplish colours, that they were at a loss to make out what sort of +article it could be. + +"Where did you get this?" Pao-ch'ai eagerly inquired. + +"It was snowing," Pao-ch'in smilingly replied, "so her venerable +ladyship turned up this piece of clothing and gave it to me." + +Hsiang Ling drew near and passed it under inspection. "No wonder," she +exclaimed, "it looks so handsome! It's verily woven with peacock's +feathers." + +"What about peacock's feathers?" Hsiang-yuen laughed. "It's made of the +feathers plucked from the heads of wild ducks. This is a clear sign that +our worthy ancestor is fond of you, for with all her love for Pao-yue, +she hasn't given it to him to wear." + +"Truly does the proverb say: 'that every human being has his respective +lot.'" Pao-ch'ai smiled. "Nothing ever was further from my thoughts than +that she would, at this juncture, drop on the scene! Come she may, but +here she also gets our dear ancestor to lavish such love on her!" + +"Unless you stay with our worthy senior," Hsiang-yuen said, "do come into +the garden. You may romp and laugh and eat and drink as much as you like +in these two places. But when you get over to Madame Hsing's rooms, talk +and joke with her, if she be at home, to your heart's content; it won't +matter if you tarry ever so long. But should she not be in, don't put +your foot inside; for the inmates are many in those rooms and their +hearts are evil. All they're up to is to do us harm." + +These words much amused Pao-ch'ai, Pao-ch'in, Hsiang-Ling, Ying Erh and +the others present. + +"Were one to say," Pao-ch'ai smiled, "that you're heartless, (it +wouldn't do); for you've got a heart. But despite your having a heart, +your tongue is, in fact, a little too outspoken! You should really +to-day acknowledge this Ch'in Erh of ours as your own sister!" + +"This article of clothing," Hsiang-yuen laughed, casting another glance +at Pao-ch'in, "is only meet for her to wear. It wouldn't verily look +well on any one else." + +Saying this, she espied Hu Po enter the room. "Our old mistress," she +put in smiling, "bade me tell you, Miss Pao-ch'ai, not to keep too +strict a check over Miss Ch'in, for she's yet young; that you should let +her do as she pleases, and that whatever she wants you should ask for, +and not be afraid." + +Pao-ch'ai hastily jumped to her feet and signified her obedience. +Pushing Pao-ch'in, she laughed. "Even you couldn't tell whence this +piece of good fortune hails from," she said. "Be off now; for mind, we +might hurt your feelings. I can never believe myself so inferior to +you!" + +As she spoke, Pao-yue and Tai-yue walked in. But as Pao-ch'ai continued to +indulge in raillery to herself, "Cousin Pao," Hsiang-yuen smilingly +remonstrated, "you may, it's true, be jesting, but what if there were +any one to entertain such ideas in real earnest?" + +"If any one took things in earnest," Hu Po interposed laughing, "why, +she'd give offence to no one else but to him." Pointing, as she uttered +this remark, at Pao-yue. + +"He's not that sort of person!" Pao-ch'ai and Hsiang-yuen simultaneously +ventured, with a significant smile. + +"If it isn't he," Hu Po proceeded still laughing, "it's she." Turning +again her finger towards Tai-yue. + +Hsiang-yuen expressed not a word by way of rejoinder. + +"That's still less likely," Pao-ch'ai smiled, "for my cousin is like her +own sister; and she's far fonder of her than of me. How could she +therefore take offence? Do you credit that nonsensical trash uttered by +Yuen-erh! Why what good ever comes out of that mouth of hers?" + +Pao-yue was ever well aware that Tai-yue was gifted with a somewhat mean +disposition. He had not however as yet come to learn anything of what +had recently transpired between Tai-yue and Pao-ch'ai. He was therefore +just giving way to fears lest his grandmother's fondness for Pao-ch'in +should be the cause of her feeling dejected. But when he now heard the +remarks passed by Hsiang-yuen, and the rejoinders made, on the other +hand, by Pao-ch'ai, and, when he noticed how different Tai-yue's voice +and manner were from former occasions, and how they actually bore out +Pao-ch'ai's insinuation, he was at a great loss how to solve the +mystery. "These two," he consequently pondered, "were never like this +before! From all I can now see, they're, really, a hundred times far +more friendly than any others are!" But presently he also observed Lin +Tai-yue rush after Pao-ch'in, and call out 'Sister,' and, without even +making any allusion to her name or any mention to her surname, treat her +in every respect, just as if she were her own sister. + +This Pao-ch'in was young and warm-hearted. She was naturally besides of +an intelligent disposition. She had, from her very youth up, learnt how +to read and how to write. After a stay, on the present occasion, of a +couple of days in the Chia mansion, she became acquainted with nearly +every inmate. And as she saw that the whole bevy of young ladies were +not of a haughty nature, and that they kept on friendly terms with her +own cousin, she did not feel disposed to treat them with any +discourtesy. But she had likewise found out for herself that Lin Tai-yue +was the best among the whole lot, so she started with Tai-yue, more than +with any one else, a friendship of unusual fervour. This did not escape +Pao-yue's notice; but all he could do was to secretly give way to +amazement. + +Shortly, however, Pao-ch'ai and her cousin repaired to Mrs. Hsueeh's +quarters. Hsiang-yuen then betook herself to dowager lady Chia's +apartments, while Lin Tai-yue returned to her room and lay down to rest. + +Pao-yue thereupon came to look up Tai-yue. + +"Albeit I've read the 'Record of the Western Side-room,'" he smiled, +"and understood a few passages of it, yet when I quoted some in order to +make you laugh, you flew into a huff! But I now remember that there is, +indeed, a passage, which is not intelligible to me; so let me quote it +for you to explain it for me!" + +Hearing this, Tai-yue immediately concluded that his words harboured some +secret meaning, so putting on a smile, "Recite it and let me hear it," +she said. + +"In the 'Confusion' chapter," Pao-yue laughingly began, "there's a line +couched in most beautiful language. It's this: 'What time did Meng Kuang +receive Liang Hung's candlestick?' (When did you and Pao-ch'ai get to be +such friends?) These five characters simply bear on a stock story; but +to the credit of the writer be it, the question contained in the three +empty words representing, 'What time' is set so charmingly! When did she +receive it? Do tell me!" + +At this inquiry, Tai-yue too could not help laughing. "The question was +originally nicely put," she felt urged to rejoin with a laugh. "But +though the writer sets it gracefully, you ask it likewise with equal +grace!" + +"At one time," Pao-yue. observed, "all you knew was to suspect that I +(was in love with Pao-ch'ai); and have you now no faults to find?" + +"Who ever could have imagined her such a really nice girl!" Tai-yue +smiled. "I've all along thought her full of guile!" And seizing the +occasion, she told Pao-yue with full particulars how she had, in the game +of forfeits, made an improper quotation, and what advice Pao-ch'ai had +given her on the subject; how she had even sent her some birds' nests, +and what they had said in the course of the chat they had had during her +illness. + +Pao-yue then at length came to see why it was that such a warm friendship +had sprung up between them. "To tell you the truth," he consequently +remarked smilingly, "I was just wondering when Meng Kuang had received +Liang Hung's candlestick; and, lo, you, indeed, got it, when a mere +child and through some reckless talk, (and your friendship was sealed)." + +As the conversation again turned on Pao-ch'in, Tai-yue recalled to mind +that she had no sister, and she could not help melting once more into +tears. + +Pao-yue hastened to reason with her. "This is again bringing trouble upon +yourself!" he argued. "Just see how much thinner you are this year than +you were last; and don't you yet look after your health? You +deliberately worry yourself every day of your life. And when you've had +a good cry, you feel at last that you've acquitted yourself of the +duties of the day." + +"Of late," Tai-yue observed, drying her tears, "I feel sore at heart. But +my tears are scantier by far than they were in years gone by. With all +the grief and anguish, which gnaw my heart, my tears won't fall +plentifully." + +"This is because weeping has become a habit with you," Pao-yue added. +"But though you fancy to yourself that it is so, how can your tears have +become scantier than they were?" + +While arguing with her, he perceived a young waiting-maid, attached to +his room, bring him a red felt wrapper. "Our senior mistress, lady Chia +Chu," she went on, "has just sent a servant to say that, as it snows, +arrangements should be made for inviting people to-morrow to write +verses." + +But hardly was this message delivered, than they saw Li Wan's maid +enter, and invite Tai-yue to go over. Pao-yue then proposed to Tai-yue to +accompany him, and together they came to the Tao Hsiang village. Tai-yue +changed her shoes for a pair of low shoes made of red scented sheep +skin, ornamented with gold, and hollowed clouds. She put on a deep red +crape cloak, lined with white fox fur; girdled herself with a +lapis-lazuli coloured sash, decorated with bright green double rings and +four sceptres; and covered her head with a hat suitable for rainy +weather. After which, the two cousins trudged in the snow, and repaired +to this side of the mansion. Here they discovered the young ladies +assembled, dressed all alike in deep red felt or camlet capes, with the +exception of Li Wan, who was clad in a woollen jacket, buttoning in the +middle. + +Hsueeh Pao-ch'ai wore a pinkish-purple twilled pelisse, lined with +foreign 'pa' fur, worked with threads from abroad, and ornamented with +double embroidery. Hsing Chou-yen was still attired in an old costume, +she ordinarily used at home, without any garment for protection against +the rain. Shortly, Shih Hsiang-yuen arrived. She wore the long pelisse, +given her by dowager lady Chia, which gave warmth both from the inside +and outside, as the top consisted of martin-head fur, and the lining of +the long-haired coat of the dark grey squirrel. On her head, she had a +deep red woollen hood, made _a la_ Chao Chuen, with designs of +clouds scooped out on it. This was lined with gosling-yellow, +gold-streaked silk. Round her neck, she had a collar of sable fur. + +"Just see here!" Tai-yue was the first to shout with a laugh. "Here comes +Sun Hsing-che the 'monkey-walker!' Lo, like him, she holds a snow cloak, +and purposely puts on the air of a young bewitching ape!" + +"Look here, all of you!" Hsiang-yuen laughed. "See what I wear inside!" + +So saying, she threw off her cloak. This enabled them to notice that she +wore underneath a half-new garment with three different coloured borders +on the collar and cuffs, consisting of a short pelisse of russet +material lined with ermine and ornamented with dragons embroidered in +variegated silks whose coils were worked with golden threads. The lapel +was narrow. The sleeves were short. The folds buttoned on the side. +Under this, she had a very short light-red brocaded satin bodkin, lined +with fur from foxes' ribs. Round her waist was lightly attached a +many-hued palace sash, with butterfly knots and long tassels. On her +feet, she too wore a pair of low shoes made of deer leather. Her waist +looked more than ever like that of a wasp, her back like that of the +gibbon. Her bearing resembled that of a crane, her figure that of a +mantis. + +"Her weak point," they laughed unanimously, "is to get herself up to +look like a young masher. But she does, there's no denying, cut a much +handsomer figure like this, than when she's dressed up like a girl!" + +"Lose no time," Hsiang-yuen smiled, "in deliberating about writing +verses, for I'd like to hear who is to stand treat." + +"According to my idea," Li Wan chimed in, "I think that as the +legitimate day, which was yesterday, has gone by, it would be too long +to wait for another proper date. As luck would have it, it's snowing +again to-day, so won't it be well to raise contributions among ourselves +and have a meeting? We'll thus be able to give the visitors a greeting; +and to get an opportunity of writing a few verses. But what are your +views on the subject?" + +"This proposal is excellent!" Pao-yue was the first to exclaim. "The only +thing is that it's too late to-day; and if it clears up by to-morrow, +there will be really no fun." + +"It isn't likely," cried out the party with one voice, "that this snowy +weather will clear up. But even supposing it does, the snow which will +fall during this night will be sufficient for our enjoyment." + +"This place of mine is nice enough, it's true," Li Wan added, "yet it +isn't up to the Lu Hsueeh Pavilion. I've already therefore despatched +workmen to raise earthen couches, so that we should all be able to sit +round the fire and compose our verses. Our venerable senior, I fancy, is +not sure about caring to join us. Besides, this is only a small +amusement between ourselves so if we just let that hussy Feng know +something about it, it will be quite enough. A tael from each of you +will be ample, but send your money to me here! As regards Hsiang Ling, +Pao-ch'in, Li Wen, Li Ch'i and Chou-yen, the five of them, we needn't +count them. Neither need we include the two girls of our number, who are +ill; nor take into account the four girls who've asked for leave. If you +will let me have your four shares, I'll undertake to see that five or +six taels be made to suffice." + +Pao-ch'ai and the others without exception signified their acquiescence. +They consequently proceeded to propose the themes and to fix upon the +rhymes. + +"I've long ago," smiled Li Wan, "settled them in my own mind, so +tomorrow at the proper time you'll really know all about them." + +At the conclusion of this remark, they indulged in another chat on +irrelevant topics; and this over, they came into old lady Chia's +quarters. + +Nothing of any note transpired during the course of that day. At an +early hour on the morrow, Pao-yue--for he had been looking forward with +such keen expectation to the coming event that he had found it +impossible to have any sleep during the night,--jumped out of bed with +the first blush of dawn. Upon raising his curtain and looking out, he +observed that, albeit the doors and windows were as yet closed, a bright +light shone on the lattice sufficient to dazzle the eyes, and his mind +began at once to entertain misgivings, and to feel regrets, in the +assurance that the weather had turned out fine, and that the sun had +already risen. In a hurry, he simultaneously sprung to his feet, and +flung the window-frame open, then casting a glance outside, from within +the glass casement, he realised that it was not the reflection of the +sun, but that of the snow, which had fallen throughout the night to the +depth of over a foot, and that the heavens were still covered as if with +twisted cotton and unravelled floss. Pao-yue got, by this time, into an +unusual state of exhilaration. Hastily calling up the servants, and +completing his ablutions, he robed himself in an egg-plant-coloured +camlet, fox-fur lined pelisse; donned a short-sleeved falconry surtout +ornamented with water dragons; tied a sash round his waist; threw over +his shoulders a fine bamboo waterproof; covered his head with a golden +rattan rain-hat; put on a pair of 'sha t'ang' wood clogs, and rushed out +with precipitate step towards the direction of the Lu Hsueeh Pavilion. + +As soon as he sallied out of the gate of the courtyard, he gazed on all +four quarters. No trace whatever of any other colour (but white) struck +his eye. In the distance stood the green fir-trees and the +kingfisherlike bamboos. They too looked, however, as if they were placed +in a glass bowl. + +Forthwith he wended his way down the slope and trudged along the foot of +the hill. But the moment he turned the bend, he felt a whiff of cold +fragrance come wafted into his nostrils. Turning his head, he espied ten +and more red plum trees, over at Miao Yue's in the Lung Ts'ui monastery. +They were red like very rouge. And, reflecting the white colour of the +snow, they showed off their beauty to such an extraordinary degree as to +present a most pleasing sight. + +Pao-yue quickly stood still, and gazed, with all intentness, at the +landscape for a time. But just as he was proceeding on his way, he +caught sight of some one on the "Wasp waist" wooden bridge, advancing in +his direction, with an umbrella in hand. It was the servant, despatched +by Li Wan, to request lady Peng to go over. + +On his arrival in the Lu Hsueeh pavilion, Pao-yue found the maids and +matrons engaged in sweeping away the snow and opening a passage. This Lu +Hsueeh (Water-rush snow) pavilion was, we might explain, situated on a +side hill, in the vicinity of a stream and spanned the rapids formed by +it. The whole place consisted of several thatched roofs, mud walls, side +fences, bamboo lattice windows and pushing windows, out of which +fishing-lines could be conveniently dropped. On all four sides +flourished one mass of reeds, which concealed the single path out of the +pavilion. Turning and twisting, he penetrated on his way through the +growth of reeds until he reached the spot where stretched the bamboo +bridge leading to the Lotus Fragrance Arbour. + +The moment the maids and matrons saw him approach with his +waterproof-wrapper thrown over his person and his rain-hat on his head, +they with one voice laughed, "We were just remarking that what was +lacking was a fisherman, and lo, now we've got everything that was +wanted! The young ladies are coming after their breakfast; you're in too +impatient a mood!" + +At these words, Pao-yue had no help but to retrace his footsteps. As soon +as he reached the Hsin Tang pavilion, he perceived T'an Ch'un, issuing +from the Ch'iu Shuang Study, wrapped in a deep red woollen waterproof, +and a 'Kuan Yin' hood on her head, supporting herself on the arm of a +young maid. Behind her, followed a married woman, holding a glazed +umbrella made of green satin. + +Pao-yue knew very well that she was on her way to his grandmother's, so +speedily halting by the side of the pavilion, he waited for her to come +up. The two cousins then left the garden together, and betook themselves +to the front part of the mansion. Pao-ch'in was at the time in the inner +apartments, combing her hair, washing her hands and face and changing +her apparel. Shortly, the whole number of girls arrived. "I feel +peckish!" Pao-yue shouted; and again and again he tried to hurry the +meal. It was with great impatience that he waited until the eatables +could be laid on the table. + +One of the dishes consisted of kid, boiled in cow's milk. "This is +medicine for us, who are advanced in years," old lady Chia observed. +"They're things that haven't seen the light! The pity is that you young +people can't have any. There's some fresh venison to-day as an extra +course, so you'd better wait and eat some of that!" + +One and all expressed their readiness to wait. Pao-yue however could not +delay having something to eat. Seizing a cup of tea, he soaked a bowlful +of rice, to which he added some meat from a pheasant's leg, and gobbled +it down in a scramble. + +"I'm well aware," dowager lady Chia said, "that as you're up to +something again to-day, you people have no mind even for your meal. Let +them keep," she therefore cried, "that venison for their evening +repast!" + +"What an idea!" lady Feng promptly put in. "We'll have enough with what +remains of it." + +Shih Hsiang-yuen thereupon consulted with Pao-yue. "As there's fresh +venison," she said, "wouldn't it be nice to ask for a haunch and take it +into the garden and prepare it ourselves? We'll thus be able to sate our +hunger, and have some fun as well." + +At this proposal, Pao-yue actually asked lady Feng to let them have a +haunch, and he bade a matron carry it into the garden. + +Presently, they all got up from table. After a time, they entered the +garden and came in a body to the Lu Hsueeh pavilion to hear Li Wan give +out the themes, and fix upon the rhymes. But Hsiang-yuen and Pao-yue were +the only two of whom nothing was seen. + +"Those two," Tai-yue observed, "can't get together! The moment they meet, +how much trouble doesn't arise! They must surely have now gone to hatch +their plans over that haunch of venison." + +These words were still on her lips when she saw 'sister-in-law' Li +coming also to see what the noise was all about. "How is it," she then +inquired of Li Wan, "that that young fellow, with the jade, and that +girl, with the golden unicorn round her neck, both of whom are so +cleanly and tidy, and have besides ample to eat, are over there +conferring about eating raw meat? There they are chatting, saying this +and saying that; but I can't see how meat can be eaten raw!" + +This remark much amused the party. "How dreadful!" they exclaimed, "Be +quick and bring them both here!" + +"All this fuss," Tay-yue smiled, "is the work of that girl Yuen. I'm not +far off again in my surmises." + +Li Wan went out with precipitate step in search of the cousins. "If you +two are bent upon eating raw meat," she cried, "I'll send you over to +our old senior's; you can do so there. What will I care then if you have +a whole deer raw and make yourselves ill over it? It won't be any +business of mine. But it's snowing hard and it's bitterly cold, so be +quick and go and write some verses for me and be off!" + +"We're doing nothing of the kind," Pao-yue hastily rejoined. "We're going +to eat some roasted meat." + +"Well, that won't matter!" Li Wan observed. And seeing the old matrons +bring an iron stove, prongs and a gridiron of iron wire, "Mind you don't +cut your hands," Li Wan resumed, "for we won't have any crying!" + +This remark concluded, she walked in. + +Lady Feng had sent P'ing Erh from her quarters to announce that she was +unable to come, as the issue of the customary annual money gave her just +at present, plenty to keep her busy. + +Hsiang-yuen caught sight of P'ing Erh and would not let her go on her +errand. But P'ing Erh too was fond of amusement, and had ever followed +lady Feng everywhere she went, so, when she perceived what fun was to be +got, and how merrily they joked and laughed, she felt impelled to take +off her bracelets (and to join them). The trio then pressed round the +fire; and P'ing Erh wanted to be the first to roast three pieces of +venison to regale themselves with. + +On the other side, Pao-ch'ai and Tai-yue had, even in ordinary times, +seen enough of occasions like the present. They did not therefore think +it anything out of the way; but Pao-ch'in and the other visitors, +inclusive of 'sister-in-law' Li, were filled with intense wonder. + +T'an Ch'un had, with the help of Li Wan, and her companions, succeeded +by this time in choosing the subjects and rhymes. "Just smell that sweet +fragrance," T'an Ch'un remarked. "One can smell it even here! I'm also +going to taste some." + +So speaking, she too went to look them up. But Li Wan likewise followed +her out. "The guests are all assembled," she observed. "Haven't you +people had enough as yet?" + +While Hsiang-yuen munched what she had in her month, she replied to her +question. "Whenever," she said, "I eat this sort of thing, I feel a +craving for wine. It's only after I've had some that I shall be able to +rhyme. Were it not for this venison, I would to-day have positively been +quite unfit for any poetry." As she spoke, she discerned Pao-ch'in, +standing and laughing opposite to her, in her duck-down garment. + +"You idiot," Hsiang-yuen laughingly cried, "come and have a mouthful to +taste." + +"It's too filthy!" Pao-ch'in replied smiling. + +"You go and try it." Pao-ch'ai added with a laugh. "It's capital! Your +cousin Lin is so very weak that she couldn't digest it, if she had any. +Otherwise she too is very fond of this." + +Upon hearing this, Pao-ch'in readily crossed over and put a piece in her +mouth; and so good did she find it that she likewise started eating some +of it. + +In a little time, however, lady Feng sent a young maid to call P'ing +Erh. + +"Miss Shih," P'ing Erh explained, "won't let me go. So just return ahead +of me." + +The maid thereupon took her leave; but shortly after they saw lady Feng +arrive; she too with a wrapper over her shoulders. + +"You're having," she smiled; "such dainties to eat, and don't you tell +me?" + +Saying this, she also drew near and began to eat. + +"Where has this crowd of beggars turned up from?" Tai-yue put in with a +laugh. "But never mind, never mind! Here's the Lu Hsueeh pavilion come in +for this calamity to-day, and, as it happens, it's that chit Yuen by whom +it has been polluted! But I'll have a good cry for the Lu Hsueeh +pavilion." + +Hsiang-yuen gave an ironical smile. "What do you know?" she exclaimed. "A +genuine man of letters is naturally refined. But as for the whole lot of +you, your poor and lofty notions are all a sham! You are most loathsome! +We may now be frowzy and smelly, as we munch away lustily with our +voracious appetites, but by and bye we'll prove as refined as scholars, +as if we had cultured minds and polished tongues." + +"If by and bye," Pao-ch'ai laughingly interposed, "the verses you +compose are not worth anything, I'll tug out that meat you've eaten, and +take some of these snow-buried weeds and stuff you up with. I'll thus +put an end to this evil fortune!" + +While bandying words, they finished eating. For a time, they busied +themselves with washing their hands. But when P'ing Erh came to put on +her bracelets, she found one missing. She looked in a confused manner, +at one time to the left, at another to the right; now in front of her, +and then behind her for ever so long, but not a single vestige of it was +visible. One and all were therefore filled with utter astonishment. + +"I know where this bracelet has gone to;" lady Feng suggested smilingly. +"But just you all go and attend to your poetry. We too can well dispense +with searching for it, and repair to the front. Before three days are +out, I'll wager that it turns up. What verses are you writing to-day?" +continuing she went on to inquire. "Our worthy senior says that the end +of the year is again nigh at hand, and that in the first moon some more +conundrums will have to be devised to be affixed on lanterns, for the +recreation of the whole family." + +"Of course we'll have to write a few," they laughingly rejoined, upon +hearing her remarks. "We forgot all about it. Let's hurry up now, and +compose a few fine ones, so as to have them ready to enjoy some good fun +in the first moon." + +Speaking the while, they came in a body into the room with the earthen +couches, where they found the cups, dishes and eatables already laid out +in readiness. On the walls had been put up the themes, metre, and +specimen verses. Pao-yue and Hsiang-yuen hastened to examine what was +written. They saw that they had to take for a theme something on the +present scenery and indite a stanza with antithetical pentameter lines; +that the word 'hsiao,' second (in the book of metre), had been fixed +upon as a rhyme; but that there was, below that, no mention, as yet, +made of any precedence. + +"I can't write verses very well," Li Wan pleaded, "so all I'll do will +be to devise three lines, and the one, who'll finish the task first, +we'll have afterwards to pair them." + +"We should, after all," Pao-ch'ai urged, "make some distinction with +regard to order." + +But, reader, if you entertain any desire to know the sequel, peruse the +particulars recorded in the chapter that follows. + + + + +CHAPTER L. + + In the Lu Hsueeh pavilion, they vie with each other in pairing verses + on the scenery. + In the Nuan Hsiang village, they compose, in beautiful style, riddles + for the spring lanterns. + + +But to continue. "We should, after all," Pao-ch'ai suggested, "make some +distinction as to order. Let me write out what's needful." + +After uttering this proposal, she urged every one to draw lots and +determine the precedence. The first one to draw was Li Wan. After her, a +list of the respective names was made in the order in which they came +out. + +"Well, in that case," lady Feng rejoined, "I'll also give a top line." + +The whole party laughed in chorus. "It will be ever so much better like +this," they said. + +Pao-ch'ai supplied above 'the old labourer of Tao Hsiang' the word +'Feng,' whereupon Li Wan went on to explain the theme to her. + +"You musn't poke fun at me!" lady Feng smiled, after considerable +reflection. "I've only managed to get a coarse line. It consists of five +words. As for the rest, I have no idea how to manage them." + +"The coarser the language, the better it is," one and all laughed. "Out +with it! You can then go and attend to your legitimate business!" + +"I fancy," lady Feng observed, "that when it snows there's bound to be +northerly wind, for last night I heard the wind blow from the north the +whole night long. I've got a line, it's: + + "'The whole night long the northern wind was high;' + +"but whether it will do or not, I am not going to worry my mind about +it." + +One and all, upon hearing this, exchanged looks. "This line is, it's +true, coarse," they smiled, "and gives no insight into what comes below, +but it's just the kind of opening that would be used by such as +understand versification. It's not only good, but it will afford to +those, who come after you, inexhaustible scope for writing. In fact, +this line will take the lead, so 'old labourer of Tao Hsiang' be quick +and indite some more to tag on below." + +Lady Feng, 'sister-in-law' Li, and P'ing Erh had then another couple of +glasses, after which each went her own way. During this while Li Wan +wrote down: + + The whole night long the northern wind was high; + +and then she herself subjoined the antithetical couplet: + + The door I ope, and lo the flakes of snow are still toss'd by the + wind, + And drop into the slush. Oh, what a pity they're so purely white! + +Hsiang Ling recited: + + All o'er the ground is spread, alas, this bright, refulgent gem; + But with an aim; for it is meant dry herbage to revive. + +T'an Ch'un said: + + Without design the dying sprouts of grain it nutrifies. + But in the villages the price of mellow wine doth rise. + +Li Ch'i added: + + In a good year, grain in the house is plentiful. + The bulrush moves and the ash issues from the tube. + +Li Wen continued: + + What time spring comes the handle of the Dipper turns. + The bleaky hills have long ago their verdure lost. + +Chou-yen proceeded: + + On a frost-covered stream, no tide can ever rise. + Easy the snow hangs on the sparse-leaved willow twigs. + +Hsiang-yuen pursued: + + Hard 'tis for snow to pile on broken plantain leaves. + The coal, musk-scented, burns in the precious tripod. + +Pao-ch'in recited: + + Th' embroidered sleeve enwraps the golden sable in its folds. + The snow transcends the mirror by the window in lustre. + +Pao-yue suggested: + + The fragrant pepper clings unto the wall. + The side wind still in whistling gusts doth blow. + +Tai-yue added: + + A quiet dream becomes a cheerless thing. + Where is the fife with plum bloom painted on? + +Pao-ch'ai continued: + + In whose household is there a flute made of green jade? + The fish fears lest the earth from its axis might drop. + +"I'll go and see that the wine is warm for you people," Li Wan smiled. + +But when Pao-ch'ai told Pao-ch'in to connect some lines, she caught +sight of Hsiang-yuen rise to her feet and put in: + + What time the dragon wages war, the clouds dispel. + Back to the wild shore turns the man with single scull. + +Pao-ch'in thereupon again appended the couplet: + + The old man hums his lines, and with his whip he points at the 'Pa' + bridge. + Fur coats are, out of pity, on the troops at the frontiers bestowed. + +But would Hsiang-yuen allow any one to have a say? The others could not +besides come up to her in quickness of wits so that, while their eyes +were fixed on her, she with eyebrows uplifted and figure outstretched +proceeded to say: + + More cotton coats confer, for bear in memory th' imperial serfs! + The rugged barbarous lands are (on account of snow) with dangers + fraught. + +Pao-ch'ai praised the verses again and again, and next contributed the +distich: + + The twigs and branches live in fear of being tossed about. + With what whiteness and feath'ry step the flakes of snow descend! + +Tai-yue eagerly subjoined the lines: + + The snow as nimbly falls as moves the waist of the 'Sui' man when + brandishing the sword. + The tender leaves of tea, so acrid to the taste, have just been newly + brewed and tried. + +As she recited this couplet, she gave Pao-yue a shove and urged him to go +on. Pao-yue was, at the moment, enjoying the intense pleasure of watching +the three girls Pao-ch'ai, Pao-ch'in and Tai-yue make a joint onslaught +on Hsiang-yuen, so that he had of course not given his mind to tagging +any antithetical verses. But when he now felt Tai-yue push him he at +length chimed in with: + + The fir is the sole tree which is decreed for ever to subsist. + The wild goose follows in the mud the prints and traces of its steps. + +Pao-ch'in took up the clue, adding: + + In the forest, the axe of the woodcutter may betimes be heard. + With (snow) covered contours, a thousand peaks their heads jut in the + air. + +Hsiang-yuen with alacrity annexed the verses: + + The whole way tortuous winds like a coiled snake. + The flowers have felt the cold and ceased to bud. + +Pao-ch'ai and her companions again with one voice eulogised their fine +diction. + +T'an Ch'un then continued: + + Could e'er the beauteous snow dread the nipping of frost? + In the deep court the shivering birds are startled by its fall. + +Hsiang-yuen happened to be feeling thirsty and was hurriedly swallowing a +cup of tea, when her turn was at once snatched by Chou-yen, who gave out +the lines, + + On the bare mountain wails the old man Hsiao. + The snow covers the steps, both high and low. + +Hsiang-yuen immediately put away the tea-cup and added: + + On the pond's surface, it allows itself to float. + At the first blush of dawn with effulgence it shines. + +Tai-yue recited with alacrity the couplet: + + In confused flakes, it ceaseless falls the whole night long. + Troth one forgets that it implies three feet of cold. + +Hsiang-yuen hastened to smilingly interpose with the distich: + + Its auspicious descent dispels the Emperor's grief. + There lies one frozen-stiff, but who asks him a word? + +Pao-ch'in too speedily put on a smile and added: + Glad is the proud wayfarer when he's pressed to drink. + Snapped is the weaving belt in the heavenly machine. + +Hsiang-yuen once again eagerly quoted the line: + + In the seaside market is lost a silk kerchief. + +But Lin Tai-yue would not let her continue, and taking up the thread, she +forthwith said: + + With quiet silence, it enshrouds the raised kiosque. + +Hsiang-yuen vehemently gave the antithetical verse: + + The utter poor clings to his pannier and his bowl. + +Pao-ch'in too would not give in as a favour to any one, so hastily she +exclaimed: + + The water meant to brew the tea with gently bubbles up. + +Hsiang-yuen saw how excited they were getting and she thought it +naturally great fun. Laughing, she eagerly gave out: + + When wine is boiled with leaves 'tis not easy to burn. + +Tai-yue also smiled while suggesting: + + The broom, with which the bonze sweepeth the hill, is sunk in snow. + +Pao-ch'in too smilingly cried: + + The young lad takes away the lute interred in snow. + +Hsiang-yuen laughed to such a degree that she was bent in two; and she +muttered a line with such rapidity that one and all inquired of her: +"What are you, after all, saying?" + + In the stone tower leisurely sleeps the stork. + +Hsiang-yuen repeated. + +Tai-yue clasped her breast so convulsed was she with laughter. With loud +voice she bawled out: + + Th' embroidered carpet warms the affectionate cat. + +Pao-ch'in quickly, again laughingly, exclaimed: + + Inside Selene's cave lo, roll the silvery waves. + +Hsiang-yuen added, with eager haste: + + Within the city walls at eve was hid a purple flag. + +Tai-yue with alacrity continued with a smile: + + The fragrance sweet, which penetrates into the plums, is good to eat. + +Pao-ch'ai smiled. "What a fine line!" she ejaculated; after which, she +hastened to complete the couplet by saying: + + The drops from the bamboo are meet, when one is drunk, to mix with + wine. + +Pao-ch'in likewise made haste to add: + + Betimes, the hymeneal girdle it moistens. + +Hsiang-yuen eagerly paired it with: + + Oft, it freezeth on the kingfisher shoes. + +Tai-yue once more exclaimed with vehemence: + + No wind doth blow, but yet there is a rush. + +Pao-ch'in promptly also smiled, and strung on: + + No rain lo falls, but still a patter's heard. + +Hsiang-yuen was leaning over, indulging in such merriment that she was +quite doubled up in two. But everybody else had realised that the trio +was struggling for mastery, so without attempting to versify they kept +their gaze fixed on them and gave way to laughter. + +Tai-yue gave her another push to try and induce her to go on. "Do you +also sometimes come to your wits' ends; and run to the end of your +tether?" she went on to say. "I'd like to see what other stuff and +nonsense you can come out with!" + +Hsiang-yuen however simply fell forward on Pao-ch'ai's lap and laughed +incessantly. + +"If you've got any gumption about you," Pao-ch'ai exclaimed, shoving her +up, "take the second rhymes under 'Hsiao' and exhaust them all, and I'll +then bend the knee to you." + +"It isn't as if I were writing verses," Hsiang-yuen laughed rising to her +feet; "it's really as if I were fighting for very life." + +"It's for you to come out with something," they all cried with a laugh. + +T'an Ch'un had long ago determined in her mind that there could be no +other antithetical sentences that she herself could possibly propose, +and she forthwith set to work to copy out the verses. But as she passed +the remark: "They haven't as yet been brought to a proper close," Li Wen +took up the clue, as soon as she caught her words, and added the +sentiment: + + My wish is to record this morning's fun. + +Li Ch'i then suggested as a finale the line: + + By these verses, I'd fain sing th' Emperor's praise. + +"That's enough, that will do!" Li Wan cried. "The rhymes haven't, I +admit, been exhausted, but any outside words you might introduce, will, +if used in a forced sense, be worth nothing at all." + +While continuing their arguments, the various inmates drew near and kept +up a searching criticism for a time. + +Hsiang-yuen was found to be the one among them, who had devised the +largest number of lines. + +"This is mainly due," they unanimously laughed, "to the virtue of that +piece of venison!" + +"Let's review them line by line as they come," Li Wan smilingly +proposed, "but yet as if they formed one continuous poem. Here's Pao-yue +last again!" + +"I haven't, the fact is, the knack of pairing sentences," Pao-yue +rejoined with a smile. "You'd better therefore make some allowance for +me!" + +"There's no such thing as making allowances for you in meeting after +meeting," Li Wan demurred laughing, "that you should again after that +give out the rhymes in a reckless manner, waste your time and not show +yourself able to put two lines together. You must absolutely bear a +penalty today. I just caught a glimpse of the red plum in the Lung Ts'ui +monastery; and how charming it is! I meant to have plucked a twig to put +in a vase, but so loathsome is the way in which Miao Yue goes on, that I +won't have anything to do with her! But we'll punish him by making him, +for the sake of fun, fetch a twig for us to put in water." + +"This penalty," they shouted with one accord, "is both excellent as well +as pleasant." + +Pao-yue himself was no less delighted to carry it into execution, so +signifying his readiness to comply with their wishes, he felt desirous +to be off at once. + +"It's exceedingly cold outside," Hsiang-yuen and Tai-yue simultaneously +remarked, "so have a glass of warm wine before you go." + +Hsiang-yuen speedily took up the kettle, and Tai-yue handed him a large +cup, filled to the very brim. + +"Now swallow the wine we give you," Hsiang-yuen smiled. "And if you don't +bring any plum blossom, we'll inflict a double penalty." + +Pao-yue gulped down hurry-scurry the whole contents of the cup and +started on his errand in the face of the snow. + +"Follow him carefully." Li Wan enjoined the servants. + +Tai-yue, however, hastened to interfere and make her desist. "There's no +such need," she cried. "Were any one to go with him, he'll contrariwise +not get the flowers." + +Li Wan nodded her head. "Yes!" she assented, and then went on to direct +a waiting-maid to bring a vase, in the shape of a beautiful girl with +high shoulders, to fill it with water, and get it ready to put the plum +blossom in. "And when he comes back," she felt induced to add, "we must +recite verses on the red plum." + +"I'll indite a stanza in advance," eagerly exclaimed Hsiang-yuen. + +"We'll on no account let you indite any more to-day," Pao-ch'ai laughed. +"You beat every one of us hollow; so if we sit with idle hands, there +won't be any fun. But by and bye we'll fine Pao-yue; and, as he says that +he can't pair antithetical lines, we'll now make him compose a stanza +himself." + +"This is a capital idea!" Tai-yue smiled. "But I've got another proposal. +As the lines just paired are not sufficient, won't it be well to pick +out those who've put together the fewest distiches, and make them +versify on the red plum blossom?" + +"An excellent proposal!" Pao-ch'ai ventured laughing. "The three girls +Hsing Chou-yen, Li Wen and Li Ch'i, failed just now to do justice to +their talents; besides they are visitors; and as Ch'in Erh, P'in Erh and +Yuen Erh got the best of us by a good deal, it's only right that none of +us should compose any more, and that that trio should only do so." + +"Ch'i Erh," Li Wan thereupon retorted, "is also not a very good hand at +verses, let therefore cousin Ch'in have a try!" + +Pao-ch'ai had no alternative but to express her acquiescence. + +"Let the three words 'red plum blossom,'" she then suggested, "be used +for rhymes; and let each person compose an heptameter stanza. Cousin +Hsing to indite on the word 'red;' your elder cousin Li on 'plum;' and +Ch'in Erh on 'blossom.'" + +"If you let Pao-yue off," Li Wan interposed, "I won't have it!" + +"I've got a capital theme," Hsiung-yuen eagerly remarked, "so let's make +him write some!" + +"What theme is it?" one and all inquired. + +"If we made him," Hsiang-yuen resumed, "versify on: 'In search of Miao Yue +to beg for red plum blossom,' won't it be full of fun?" + +"That will be full of zest," the party exclaimed, upon hearing the theme +propounded by her. But hardly had they given expression to their +approval than they perceived Pao-yue come in, beaming with smiles and +glee, and holding with both hands a branch of red plum blossom. The +maids hurriedly relieved him of his burden and put the branch in the +vase, and the inmates present came over in a body to feast their eyes on +it. + +"Well, may you look at it now," Pao-yue smiled. "You've no idea what an +amount of trouble it has cost me!" + +As he uttered these words, T'an Ch'un handed him at once another cup of +warm wine; and the maids approached, and took his wrapper and hat, and +shook off the snow. + +But the servant-girls attached to their respective quarters then brought +them over extra articles of clothing. Hsi Jen, in like manner, +despatched a domestic with a pelisse, the worse for wear, lined with fur +from foxes' ribs, so Li Wan, having directed a servant to fill a plate +with steamed large taros, and to make up two dishes with red-skinned +oranges, yellow coolie oranges, olives and other like things, bade some +one take them over to Hsi Jen. + +Hsiang-yuen also communicated to Pao-yue the subject for verses they had +decided upon a short while back. But she likewise urged Pao-yue to be +quick and accomplish his task. + +"Dear senior cousin, dear junior cousin," pleaded Pao-yue, "let me use my +own rhymes. Don't bind me down to any." + +"Go on as you like," they replied with one consent. + +But conversing the while, they passed the plum blossom under inspection. + +This bough of plum blossom was, in fact, only two feet in height; but +from the side projected a branch, crosswise, about two or three feet in +length the small twigs and stalks on which resembled coiled dragons, or +crouching earthworms; and were either single and trimmed pencil-like, or +thick and bushy grove-like. Indeed, their appearance was as if the +blossom spurted cosmetic. This fragrance put orchids to the blush. So +every one present contributed her quota of praise. + +Chou-yen, Li Wen and Pao-ch'in had, little though it was expected, all +three already finished their lines and each copied them out for herself, +so the company began to peruse their compositions, subjoined below, in +the order of the three words: 'red plum blossom.' + +Verses to the red plum blossom by Hsing Chou-yen. + + The peach tree has not donned its fragrance yet, the almond is not + red. + What time it strikes the cold, it's first joyful to smile at the east + wind. + When its spirit to the Yue Ling hath flown, 'tis hard to say 'tis + spring. + The russet clouds across the 'Lo Fu' lie, so e'en to dreams it's + closed. + The green petals add grace to a coiffure, when painted candles burn. + The simple elf when primed with wine doth the waning rainbow bestride. + Does its appearance speak of a colour of ordinary run? + Both dark and light fall of their own free will into the ice and snow. + +The next was the production of Li Wen, and its burden was: + + To write on the white plum I'm not disposed, but I'll write on the + red. + Proud of its beauteous charms, 'tis first to meet the opening drunken + eye. + On its frost-nipped face are marks; and these consist wholly of blood. + Its heart is sore, but no anger it knows; to ashes too it turns. + By some mistake a pill (a fairy) takes and quits her real frame. + From the fairyland pool she secret drops, and casts off her old form. + In spring, both north and south of the river, with splendour it doth + bloom. + Send word to bees and butterflies that they need not give way to + fears! + +This stanza came next from the pen of Hsueeh Pao-ch'in, + + Far distant do the branches grow; but how beauteous the blossom + blooms! + The maidens try with profuse show to compete in their spring + head-dress. + No snow remains on the vacant pavilion and the tortuous rails. + Upon the running stream and desolate hills descend the russet clouds. + When cold prevails one can in a still dream follow the lass-blown + fife. + The wandering elf roweth in fragrant spring, the boat in the red + stream. + In a previous existence, it must sure have been of fairy form. + No doubt need 'gain arise as to its beauty differing from then. + +The perusal over, they spent some time in heaping, smiling the while, +eulogiums upon the compositions. And they pointed at the last stanza as +the best of the lot; which made it evident to Pao-yue that Pao-ch'in, +albeit the youngest in years, was, on the other hand, the quickest in +wits. + +Tai-yue and Hsiang-yuen then filled up a small cup with wine and +simultaneously offered their congratulations to Pao-ch'in. + +"Each of the three stanzas has its beauty," Pao-ch'ai remarked, a smile +playing round her lips. "You two have daily made a fool of me, and are +you now going to fool her also?" + +"Have you got yours ready?" Li Wan went on to inquire of Pao-yue. + +"I'd got them," Pao-yue promptly answered, "but the moment I read their +three stanzas, I once more became so nervous that they quite slipped +from my mind. But let me think again." + +Hsiang-yuen, at this reply, fetched a copper poker, and, while beating on +the hand-stove, she laughingly said: "I shall go on tattooing. Now mind +if when the drumming ceases, you haven't accomplished your task, you'll +have to bear another fine." + +"I've already got them!" Pao-yue rejoined, smilingly. + +Tai-yue then picked up a pencil. "Recite them," she smiled, "and I'll +write them down." + +Hsiang-yuen beat one stroke (on the stove). "The first tattoo is over," +she laughed. + +"I'm ready," Pao-yue smiled. "Go on writing." + +At this, they heard him recite: + + The wine bottle is not opened, the line is not put into shape. + +Tai-yue noted it down, and shaking her head, "They begin very smoothly," +she said, as she smiled. + +"Be quick!" Hsiang-yuen again urged. + +Pao-yue laughingly continued: + + To fairyland I speed to seek for spring, and the twelfth moon to find. + +Tai-yue and Hsiang-yuen both nodded. "It's rather good," they smiled. + +Pao-yue resumed, saying: + + I will not beg the high god for a bottle of the (healing) dew, + But pray Shuang O to give me some plum bloom beyond the rails. + +Tai-yue jotted the lines down and wagged her head to and fro. "They're +ingenious, that's all," she observed. + +Hsiang-yuen gave another rap with her hand. + +Pao-yue thereupon smilingly added: + + I come into the world and, in the cold, I pick out some red snow. + I leave the dusty sphere and speed to pluck the fragrant purple + clouds. + I bring a jagged branch, but who in pity sings my shoulders thin? + On my clothes still sticketh the moss from yon Buddhistic court. + +As soon as Tai-yue had done writing, Hsiang-yuen and the rest of the +company began to discuss the merits of the verses; but they then saw +several servant-maids rush in, shouting: "Our venerable mistress has +come." + +One and all hurried out with all despatch to meet her. "How comes it +that she is in such good cheer?" every one also laughed. + +Speaking the while, they discerned, at a great distance, their +grandmother Chia seated, enveloped in a capacious wrapper, and rolled up +in a warm hood lined with squirrel fur, in a small bamboo sedan-chair +with an open green silk glazed umbrella in her hand. Yuean Yang, Hu Po +and some other girls, mustering in all five or six, held each an +umbrella and pressed round the chair, as they advanced. + +Li Wan and her companions went up to them with hasty step; but dowager +lady Chia directed the servants to make them stop; explaining that it +would be quite enough if they stood where they were. + +On her approach, old lady Chia smiled. "I've given," she observed, "your +Madame Wang and that girl Feng the slip and come. What deep snow covers +the ground! For me, I'm seated in this, so it doesn't matter; but you +mustn't let those ladies trudge in the snow." + +The various followers rushed forward to take her wrapper and to support +her, and as they did so, they expressed their acquiescence. + +As soon as she got indoors old lady Chia was the first to exclaim with a +beaming face: "What beautiful plum blossom! You well know how to make +merry; but I too won't let you off!" + +But in the course of her remarks, Li Wan quickly gave orders to a +domestic to fetch a large wolf skin rug, and to spread it in the centre, +so dowager lady Chia made herself comfortable on it. "Just go on as +before with your romping and joking, drinking and eating," she then +laughed. "As the days are so short, I did not venture to have a midday +siesta. After therefore playing at dominoes for a time, I bethought +myself of you people, and likewise came to join the fun." + +Li Wan soon also presented her a hand-stove, while T'an Ch'un brought an +extra set of cups and chopsticks, and filling with her own hands, a cup +with warm wine, she handed it to her grandmother Chia. Old lady Chia +swallowed a sip. "What's there in that dish?" she afterwards inquired. + +The various inmates hurriedly carried it over to her, and explained that +'they were pickled quails.' + +"These won't hurt me," dowager lady Chia said, "so cut off a piece of +the leg and give it to me." + +"Yes!" promptly acquiesced Li Wan, and asking for water, she washed her +hands, and then came in person to carve the quail. + +"Sit down again," dowager lady Chia said, pressing them, "and go on with +your chatting and laughing. Let me hear you, and feel happy. Just you +also seat yourself," continuing, she remarked to Li Wan, "and behave as +if I were not here. If you do so, well and good. Otherwise, I shall take +myself off at once." + +But it was only when they heard how persistent she was in her +solicitations that they all resumed the seats, which accorded with their +age, with the exception of Li Wan, who moved to the furthest side. + +"What were you playing at?" old lady Chia thereupon asked. + +"We were writing verses," answered the whole party. + +"Wouldn't it be well for those who are up to poetry," dowager lady Chia +suggested; "to devise a few puns for lanterns so that the whole lot of +us should be able to have some fun in the first moon?" + +With one voice, they expressed their approval. But after they had jested +for a little time; "It's damp in here;" old lady Chia said, "so don't +you sit long, for mind you might be catching cold. Where it's nice and +warm is in your cousin Quarta's over there, so let's all go and see how +she is getting on with her painting, and whether it will be ready or not +by the end of the year." + +"How could it be completed by the close of the year?" they smiled. "She +could only, we fancy, get it ready by the dragon boat festival next +year." + +"This is dreadful!" old lady Chia exclaimed. "Why, she has really wasted +more labour on it than would have been actually required to lay out this +garden!" + +With these words still on her lips, she ensconced herself again in the +bamboo sedan, and closed in or followed by the whole company, she +repaired to the Lotus Fragrance Arbour, where they got into a narrow +passage, flanked on the east as well as the west, with doors from which +they could cross the street. Over these doorways on the inside as well +as outside were inserted alike tablets made of stone. The door they went +in by, on this occasion, lay on the west. On the tablet facing outwards, +were cut out the two words representing: 'Penetrating into the clouds.' +On that inside, were engraved the two characters meaning: 'crossing to +the moon.' On their arrival at the hall, they walked in by the main +entrance, which looked towards the south. Dowager lady Chia then +alighted from her chair. Hsi Ch'un had already made her appearance out +of doors to welcome her, so taking the inner covered passage, they +passed over to the other side and reached Hsi Ch'un's bedroom; on the +door posts of which figured the three words: 'Warm fragrance isle.' +Several servants were at once at hand; and no sooner had they raised the +red woollen portiere, than a soft fragrance wafted itself into their +faces. The various inmates stepped into the room. Old lady Chia, +however, did not take a seat, but simply inquired where the painting +was. + +"The weather is so bitterly cold," Hsi Ch'un consequently explained +smiling, "that the glue, whose property is mainly to coagulate, cannot +be moistened, so I feared that, were I to have gone on with the +painting, it wouldn't be worth looking at; and I therefore put it away." + +"I must have it by the close of the year," dowager lady Chia laughed, +"so don't idle your time away. Produce it at once and go on painting for +me, as quick as you can." + +But scarcely had she concluded her remark, than she unexpectedly +perceived lady Feng arrive, smirking and laughing, with a purple +pelisse, lined with deer fur, thrown over her shoulders. "Venerable +senior!" she shouted, "You don't even so much as let any one know +to-day, but sneak over stealthily. I've had a good hunt for you!" + +When old lady Chia saw her join them, she felt filled with delight. "I +was afraid," she rejoined, "that you'd be feeling cold. That's why, I +didn't allow any one to tell you. You're really as sharp as a spirit to +have, at last, been able to trace my whereabouts! But according to +strict etiquette, you shouldn't show filial piety to such a degree!" + +"Is it out of any idea of filial piety that I came after you? Not at +all!" lady Feng added with a laugh. "But when I got to your place, +worthy senior, I found everything so quiet that not even the caw of a +crow could be heard, and when I asked the young maids where you'd gone, +they wouldn't let me come and search in the garden. So I began to give +way to surmises. Suddenly also arrived two or three nuns; and then, at +length, I jumped at the conclusion that these women must have come to +bring their yearly prayers, or to ask for their annual or incense +allowance, and that, with the amount of things you also, venerable +ancestor, have to do for the end of the year, you had for certain got +out of the way of your debts. Speedily therefore I inquired of the nuns +what it was that brought them there, and, for a fact, there was no +mistake in my surmises. So promptly issuing the annual allowances to +them, I now come to report to you, worthy senior, that your creditors +have gone, and that there's no need for you to skulk away. But I've had +some tender pheasant prepared; so please come, and have your evening +meal; for if you delay any longer, it will get quite stale." + +As she spoke, everybody burst out laughing. But lady Feng did not allow +any time to dowager lady Chia to pass any observations, but forthwith +directed the servants to bring the chair over. Old lady Chia then +smilingly laid hold of lady Feng's hand and got again into her chair; +but she took along with her the whole company of relatives for a chat +and a laugh. + +Upon issuing out of the gate on the east side of the narrow passage, the +four quarters presented to their gaze the appearance of being adorned +with powder, and inlaid with silver. Unawares, they caught sight of +Pao-ch'in, in a duck down cloak, waiting at a distance at the back of +the hill slope; while behind her stood a maid, holding a vase full of +red plum blossoms. + +"Strange enough," they all exclaimed laughingly, "two of us were +missing! But she's waiting over there. She's also been after some +plum-blossom." + +"Just look," dowager lady Chia eagerly cried out joyfully, "that human +creature has been put there to match with the snow-covered hill! But +with that costume, and the plum-blossom at the back of her, to what does +she bear a resemblance?" + +"She resembles," one and all smiled, "Chou Shih-ch'ou's beautiful snow +picture, suspended in your apartments, venerable ancestor." + +"Is there in that picture any such costume?" Old lady Chia demurred, +nodding her head and smiling. "What's more the persons represented in it +could never be so pretty!" + +Hardly had this remark dropped from her mouth, than she discerned some +one else, clad in a deep red woollen cloak, appear to view at the back +of Pao-ch'in. "What other girl is that?" dowager lady Chia asked. + +"We girls are all here." they laughingly answered. "That's Pao-yue." + +"My eyes," old lady Chia smiled, "are getting dimmer and dimmer!" + +So saying, they drew near, and of course, they turned out to be Pao-yue +and Pao-ch'in. + +"I've just been again to the Lung Ts'ui monastery," Pao-yue smiled to +Pao-ch'ai, Tai-yue and his other cousins, "and Miao Yue gave me for each +of you a twig of plum blossom. I've already sent a servant to take them +over." + +"Many thanks for the trouble you've been put to," they, with one voice, +replied. + +But speaking the while, they sallied out of the garden gate, and +repaired to their grandmother Chia's suite of apartments. Their meal +over, they joined in a further chat and laugh, when unexpectedly they +saw Mrs. Hsueeh also arrive. + +"With all this snow," she observed, "I haven't been over the whole day +to see how you, venerable senior, were getting on. Your ladyship +couldn't have been in a good sort of mood to-day, for you should have +gone and seen the snow." + +"How not in a good mood?" old lady Chia exclaimed. "I went and looked up +these young ladies and had a romp with them for a time." + +"Last night," Mrs. Hsueeh smiled, "I was thinking of getting from our +Madame Wang to-day the loan of the garden for the nonce and spreading +two tables with our mean wine, and inviting you, worthy senior, to enjoy +the snow; but as I saw that you were having a rest, and I heard, at an +early hour, that Pao-yue had said that you were not in a joyful frame of +mind, I did not, in consequence, presume to come and disturb you to-day. +But had I known sooner the real state of affairs, I would have felt it +my bounden duty to have asked you round." + +"This is," rejoined dowager lady Chia with a smile, "only the first fall +of snow in the tenth moon. We'll have, after this, plenty of snowy days +so there will be ample time to put your ladyship to wasteful expense." + +"Verily in that case," Mrs. Hsueeh laughingly added, "my filial +intentions may well be looked upon as having been accomplished." + +"Mrs. Hsueeh," interposed lady Feng smiling, "mind you don't forget it! +But you might as well weigh fifty taels this very moment, and hand them +over to me to keep, until the first fall of snow, when I can get +everything ready for the banquet. In this way, you will neither have +anything to bother you, aunt, nor will you have a chance of forgetting." + +"Well, since that be so," old lady Chia remarked with a laugh, "your +ladyship had better give her fifty taels, and I'll share it with her; +each one of us taking twenty-five taels; and on any day it might snow, +I'll pretend I don't feel in proper trim and let it slip by. You'll have +thus still less occasion to trouble yourself, and I and lady Feng will +reap a substantial benefit." + +Lady Feng clapped her hands. "An excellent idea," she laughed. "This +quite falls in with my views." + +The whole company were much amused. + +"Pshaw!" dowager lady Chia laughingly ejaculated. "You barefaced thing! +(You're like a snake, which) avails itself of the rod, with which it is +being beaten, to crawl up (and do harm)! You don't try to convince us +that it properly devolves upon us, as Mrs. Hsueeh is our guest and +receives such poor treatment in our household, to invite her; for with +what right could we subject her ladyship to any reckless outlay? but you +have the impudence, of impressing upon our minds to insist upon the +payment, in advance, of fifty taels! Are you really not thoroughly +ashamed of yourself?" + +"Oh, worthy senior," lady Feng laughed, "you're most sharp-sighted! You +try to see whether Mrs. Hsueeh will be soft enough to produce fifty taels +for you to share with me, but fancying now that it's of no avail, you +turn round and begin to rate me by coming out with all these grand +words! I won't however take any money from you, Mrs. Hsueeh. I'll, in +fact, contribute some on your ladyship's account, and when I get the +banquet ready and invite you, venerable ancestor, to come and partake of +it, I'll also wrap fifty taels in a piece of paper, and dutifully +present them to you, as a penalty for my officious interference in +matters that don't concern me. Will this be all right or not?" + +Before these words were brought to a close, the various inmates were so +convulsed with hearty laughter that they reeled over on the stove-couch. + +Dowager lady Chia then went on to explain how much nicer Pao-ch'in was, +plucking plum blossom in the snow, than the very picture itself; and she +next minutely inquired what the year, moon, day and hour of her birth +were, and how things were getting on in her home. + +Mrs. Hsueeh conjectured that the object she had in mind was, in all +probability, to seek a partner for her. In the secret recesses of her +heart, Mrs. Hsueeh on this account fell in also with her views. +(Pao-ch'in) had, however, already been promised in marriage to the Mei +family. But as dowager lady Chia had made, as yet, no open allusion to +her intentions, (Mrs. Hsueeh) did not think it nice on her part to come +out with any definite statement, and she accordingly observed to old +lady Chia in a vague sort of way: "What a pity it is that this girl +should have had so little good fortune as to lose her father the year +before last. But ever since her youth up, she has seen much of the +world, for she has been with her parent to every place of note. Her +father was a man fond of pleasure; and as he had business in every +direction, he took his family along with him. After tarrying in this +province for a whole year, he would next year again go to that province, +and spend half a year roaming about it everywhere. Hence it is that he +had visited five or six tenths of the whole empire. The other year, when +they were here, he engaged her to the son of the Hanlin Mei. But, as it +happened, her father died the year after, and here is her mother too now +ailing from a superfluity of phlegm." + +Lady Feng gave her no time to complete what she meant to say. "Hai!" she +exclaimed, stamping her foot. "What you say isn't opportune! I was about +to act as a go-between. But is she too already engaged?" + +"For whom did you mean to act as go-between?" old lady Chia smiled. + +"My dear ancestor," lady Feng remarked, "don't concern yourself about +it! I had determined in my mind that those two would make a suitable +match. But as she has now long ago been promised to some one, it would +be of no use, were I even to speak out. Isn't it better that I should +hold my peace, and drop the whole thing?" + +Dowager lady Chia herself was cognizant of lady Feng's purpose, so upon +hearing that she already had a suitor, she at once desisted from making +any further reference to the subject. The whole company then continued +another chat on irrelevant matters for a time, after which, they broke +up. + +Nothing of any interest transpired the whole night. The next day, the +snowy weather had cleared up. After breakfast, her grandmother Chia +again pressed Hsi Ch'un. "You should go on," she said, "with your +painting, irrespective of cold or heat. If you can't absolutely finish +it by the end of the year, it won't much matter! The main thing is that +you must at once introduce in it Ch'in Erh and the maid with the plum +blossom, as we saw them yesterday, in strict accordance with the +original and without the least discrepancy of so much as a stroke." + +Hsi Ch'un listened to her and felt it her duty to signify her assent, in +spite of the task being no easy one for her to execute. + +After a time, a number of her relatives came, in a body, to watch the +progress of the painting. But they discovered Hsi Ch'un plunged in a +reverie. "Let's leave her alone," Li Wan smilingly observed to them all, +"to proceed with her meditations; we can meanwhile have a chat among +ourselves. Yesterday our worthy senior bade us devise a few +lantern-conundrums, so when we got home, I and Ch'i Erh and Wen Erh did +not turn in (but set to work). I composed a couple on the Four Books; +but those two girls also managed to put together another pair of them." + +"We should hear what they're like," they laughingly exclaimed in chorus, +when they heard what they had done. "Tell them to us first, and let's +have a guess!" + + "The goddess of mercy has not been handed down by any ancestors." + +Li Ch'i smiled. "This refers to a passage in the Four Books." + + "In one's conduct, one must press towards the highest benevolence." + +Hsiang-yuen quickly interposed; taking up the thread of the conversation. + +"You should ponder over the meaning of the three words implying: 'handed +down by ancestors'," Pao-ch'ai smiled, "before you venture a guess." + +"Think again!" Li Wan urged with a smile. + +"I've guessed it!" Tai-yue smiled. "It's: + + "'If, notwithstanding all that benevolence, there be no outward visible + sign...'" + +"That's the line," one and all unanimously exclaimed with a laugh. + + "'The whole pond is covered with rush.'" + +"Now find the name of the rush?" Li Wan proceeded. + +"This must certainly be the cat-tail rush!" hastily again replied +Hsiang-yuen. "Can this not be right?" + +"You've succeeded in guessing it," Li Wan smiled. "Li Wen's is: + + "'Cold runs the stream along the stones;' + +"bearing on the name of a man of old." + +"Can it be Shan T'ao?" T'an Ch'un smilingly asked. + +"It is!" answered Li Wan. + +"Ch'i Erh's is the character 'Yung' (glow-worm). It refers to a single +word," Li Wan resumed. + +The party endeavoured for a long time to hit upon the solution. + +"The meaning of this is certainly deep," Pao-ch'in put in. "I wonder +whether it's the character, 'hua,' (flower) in the combination, 'hua +ts'ao, (vegetation)." + +"That's just it!" Li Ch'i smiled. + +"What has a glow-worm to do with flowers?" one and all observed. + +"It's capital!" Tai-yue ventured with a smile. "Isn't a glow-worm +transformed from plants?" + +The company grasped the sense; and, laughing the while, they, with one +consent, shouted out, "splendid!" + +"All these are, I admit, good," Pao-ch'ai remarked, "but they won't suit +our venerable senior's taste. Won't it be better therefore to compose a +few on some simple objects; some which all of us, whether polished or +unpolished, may be able to enjoy?" + +"Yes," they all replied, "we should also think of some simple ones on +ordinary objects." + +"I've devised one on the 'Tien Chiang Ch'un' metre," Hsiang-yuen pursued, +after some reflection. "But it's really on an ordinary object. So try +and guess it." + +Saying this, she forthwith went on to recite: + + The creeks and valleys it leaves; + Travelling the world, it performs. + In truth how funny it is! + But renown and gain are still vain; + Ever hard behind it is its fate. + +A conundrum. + +None of those present could fathom what it could be. After protracted +thought, some made a guess, by saying it was a bonze. Others maintained +that it was a Taoist priest. Others again divined that it was a +marionette. + +"All your guesses are wrong," Pao-yue chimed in, after considerable +reflection. "I've got it! It must for a certainty be a performing +monkey." + +"That's really it!" Hsiang-yuen laughed. + +"The first part is all right," the party observed, "but how do you +explain the last line?" + +"What performing monkey," Hsiang-yuen asked, "has not had its tail cut +off?" + +Hearing this, they exploded into a fit of merriment. "Even," they +argued, "the very riddles she improvises are perverse and strange!" + +"Mrs. Hsueeh mentioned yesterday that you, cousin Ch'in, had seen much of +the world," Li Wan put in, "and that you had also gone about a good +deal. It's for you therefore to try your hand at a few conundrums. +What's more your poetry too is good. So why shouldn't you indite a few +for us to guess?" + +Pao-ch'in, at this proposal, nodded her head, and while repressing a +smile, she went off by herself to give way to thought. + +Pao-ch'ai then also gave out this riddle: + + Carved sandal and cut cedar rise layer upon layer. + Have they been piled and fashioned by workmen of skill! + In the mid-heavens it's true, both wind and rain fleet by; + But can one hear the tingling of the Buddhists' bell? + +While they were giving their mind to guessing what it could be, Pao-yue +too recited: + + Both from the heavens and from the earth, it's indistinct to view. + What time the 'Lang Ya' feast goes past, then mind you take great + care. + When the 'luan's' notes you catch and the crane's message thou'lt look + up: + It is a splendid thing to turn and breathe towards the vault of + heaven, (a kite) + +Tai-yue next added: + + Why need a famous steed be a with bridle e'er restrained? + Through the city it speeds; the moat it skirts; how fierce it looks. + The master gives the word and wind and clouds begin to move. + On the 'fish backs' and the 'three isles' it only makes a name, (a + rotating lantern). + +T'an Ch'un had also one that she felt disposed to tell them, but just as +she was about to open her lips, Pao-ch'in walked up to them. "The relics +of various places I've seen since my youth," she smiled, "are not few, +so I've now selected ten places of historic interest, on which I've +composed ten odes, treating of antiquities. The verses may possibly be +coarse, but they bear upon things of the past, and secretly refer as +well to ten commonplace articles. So, cousins, please try and guess +them!" + +"This is ingenious!" they exclaimed in chorus, when they heard the +result of her labour. "Why not write them out, and let us have a look at +them?" + +But, reader, peruse the next chapter, if you want to learn what follows. + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + + The young maiden Hsueeh Pao-ch'in devises, in novel style, odes bearing + on antiquities. + A stupid doctor employs, in reckless manner, drugs of great strength. + + +When the party heard, the story goes, that Pao-ch'in had made the old +places of interest she had, in days gone by, visited in the various +provinces, the theme of her verses, and that she had composed ten +stanzas with four lines in each, which though referring to relics of +antiquity, bore covertly on ten common objects, they all opined that +they must be novel and ingenious, and they vied with each other in +examining the text. On perusal, they read: + +On the relics of Ch'ih Pi: + + Deep in Ch'ih Pi doth water lie concealed which does not onward flow. + There but remains a name and surname contained in an empty boat. + When with a clamorous din the fire breaks out, the sad wind waxes + cold. + An endless host of eminent spirits wander about inside. + +On the ancient remains in Chiao Chih: + + Posts of copper and walls of gold protect the capital. + Its fame is spread beyond the seas, scattered in foreign lands. + How true it is that Ma Yuean's achievements have been great. + The flute of iron need not trouble to sing of Tzu Fang. + +On the vestiges of former times in Chung Shan: + + Renown and gain do they, at any time, fall to a woman's share? + For no reason have I been bidden come into the mortal world. + How hard a task, in point of fact, it is to stop solicitude! + Don't bear a grudge against such people as may oft times jeer at you! + +On things of historic interest in Huai Yin: + + The sturdy man must ever mind the insults of the vicious dog. + Th' official's rank in San Ch'i was but fixed when his coffin was + closed + Tell all people that upon earth do dwell to look down upon none. + The bounty of one single bowl of rice should be treasured till death. + +On events of old in Kuang Lin: + + Cicadas chirp; crows roost; but, in a twinkle, they are gone. + How fares these latter days the scenery in Sui T'i? + It's all because he has so long enjoyed so fine a fame, + That he has given rise around to so many disputes. + +On the ancient remains of the T'ao Yeh ferry: + + Dry grass and parched plants their reflex cast upon the shallow pond. + The peach tree branches and peach leaves will bid farewell at last. + What a large number of structures in Liu Ch'ao raise their heads. + A small picture with a motto hangs on the hollow wall. + +On the antique vestiges of Ch'ing Chung: + + The black stream stretches far and wide, but hindered is its course. + What time were no more thrummed the frozen cords, the songs waxed sad. + The policy of the Han dynasty was in truth strange! + A worthless officer must for a thousand years feel shame. + +On things of historic renown in Ma Wei: + + Quiet the spots of rouge with sweat pile up and shine. + Gentleness in a moment vanishes and goes. + It is because traces remain of his fine looks, + That to this day his clothes a fragrance still emit. + +On events of the past connected with the Pu Tung temple: + + The small red lamp is wholly made of thin bone, and is light. + Furtively was it brought along but by force was it stol'n. + Oft was it, it is true, hung by the mistress' own hands, + But long ere this has she allured it to speed off with her. + +On the scenery about the Mei Hua (Plum Bloom) monastery. + + If not by the plum trees, then by the willows it must be. + Has any one picked up in there the likeness of a girl? + Don't fret about meeting again; in spring its scent returns. + Soon as it's gone, and west winds blow, another year has flown. + +When the party had done reading the verses, they with perfect unanimity +extolled their extraordinary excellence. Pao-ch'ai was, however, the +first to raise any objections. "The first eight stanzas," she said, "are +founded upon the testimony of the historical works. But as for the last +two stanzas, there's no knowing where they come from. Besides, we don't +quite fathom their meaning. Wouldn't it be better then if two other +stanzas were written?" + +Tai-yue hastened to interrupt her. "The lines composed by cousin Pao +ch'in are indeed devised in a too pigheaded and fast-and-loose sort of +way," she observed. "The two stanzas are, I admit, not to be traced in +the historical works, but though we've never read such outside +traditions, and haven't any idea what lies at the bottom of them, have +we not likely seen a couple of plays? What child of three years old +hasn't some notion about them, and how much more such as we?" + +"What she says is perfectly correct," T'an Ch'un chimed in. + +"She has besides," Li Wan then remarked, "been to these places herself. +But though there be no mention anywhere of these two references, +falsehoods have from old till now been propagated, and busybodies have, +in fact, intentionally invented such relics of ancient times with a view +of bamboozling people. That year, for instance, in which we travelled up +here to the capital, we came across graves raised to Kuan, the sage, in +three or four distinct places. Now the circumstances of the whole +existence of Kuan the sage are established by actual proof, so how could +there again in his case exist a lot of graves? This must arise from the +esteem in which he is held by posterity for the way he acquitted himself +of his duties during his lifetime. And it is presumably to this esteem +that this fiction owes its origin. This is quite possible enough. Even +in the 'Kuang Yue Chi', you will see that not only are numerous tombs of +the sage Kuan spoken of, but that bygone persons of note are assigned +tombs not few in number. But there are many more relics of antiquity, +about which no testimony can be gathered. The matter treated in the two +stanzas, now in point, is, of course, not borne out by any actual +record; yet in every story, that is told, in every play, that is sung, +and on the various slips as well used for fortune telling, it is +invariably to be found. Old and young, men and women, do all understand +it and speak of it, whether in proverbs or in their everyday talk. They +don't resemble, besides, the ballads encountered in the 'Hsi Hsiang +Chi,' and 'Mou Tan T'ing,' to justify us to fear that we might be +setting eyes upon some corrupt text. They are quite harmless; so we'd +better keep them!" + +Pao-ch'ai, after these arguments, dropped at length all discussion. They +thereupon tried for a time to guess the stanzas. None, however, of their +solutions turned out to be correct. But as the days in winter are short, +and they saw that it was time for their evening meal, they adjourned to +the front part of the compound for their supper. + +The servants at this stage announced to Madame Wang that Hsi Jen's elder +brother, Hua Tzu-fang, was outside, and reported to her that he had +entered the city to say that his mother was lying in bed dangerously +ill, and that she was so longing to see her daughter that he had come to +beg for the favour of taking Hsi Jen home on a visit. As soon as Madame +Wang heard the news, she dilated for a while upon people's mothers and +daughters, and of course she did not withhold her consent. Sending +therefore at the same time for lady Feng, she communicated the tidings +to her, and enjoined her to deliberate, and take suitable action. + +Lady Feng signified her willingness to do what was necessary, and, +returning to her quarters, she there and then commissioned Chou Jui's +wife to go and break the news to Hsi Jen. "Send also," she went on to +direct Mrs. Chou, "for one of the married-women, who are in attendance +when we go out-of-doors, and let you two, together with a couple of +young maids, follow Hsi Jen home. But despatch four cart attendants, +well up in years, to look everywhere for a spacious curricle for you as +well as her, and a small carriage for the maids." + +"All right!" acquiesced Chou Jui's wife. But just as she was about to +start, lady Feng continued her injunctions. "Hsi Jen," she added; "is a +person not fond of any fuss, so tell her that it's I who have given the +orders; and impress upon her that she must put on several nice, coloured +clothes, and pack up a large valise full of wearing apparel. Her valise, +must be a handsome one; and she must take a decent hand-stove. Bid her +too first come and look me up here when she's about to start." + +Mrs. Chou promised to execute her directions and went on her way. + +After a long interval, (lady Feng) actually saw Hsi Jen arrive, got up +in full costume and head-gear, and with her two waiting-maids and Chou +Jui's wife, who carried the hand-stove and the valise packed up with +clothes. Lady Feng's eye was attracted by several golden hairpins and +pearl ornaments of great brilliancy and beauty, which Hsi Jen wore in +her coiffure. Her gaze was further struck by the peach-red stiff silk +jacket she had on, brocaded with all sorts of flowers and lined with +ermine, by her leek-green wadded jupe, artistically ornamented with +coils of gold thread, and by the bluish satin and grey squirrel pelisse +she was wrapped in. + +"These three articles of clothing, given to you by our dowager lady," +lady Feng smiled, "are all very nice; but this pelisse is somewhat too +plain. If you wear this, you'll besides feel cold, so put on one with +long fur." + +"Our Madame Wang," Hsi Jen laughingly rejoined, "gave me this one with +the grey squirrel. I've also got one with ermine. She says that when the +end of the year draws nigh, she'll let me have one with long fur." + +"I've got one with long fur," lady Feng proceeded with a smile. "I don't +fancy it much as the fringe does not hang with grace. I was on the point +of having it changed; but, never mind, I'll let you first use it; and, +when at the close of the year, Madame Wang has one made for you, I can +then have mine altered, and it will come to the same thing as if you +were returning it like that to me." + +One and all laughed. "That's the way of talking into which her ladyship +has got!" they observed. "There she is the whole year round recklessly +carelessly and secretly making good, on Madame Wang's account, ever so +many things; how many there is no saying; for really the things for +which compensation is made, cannot be so much as enumerated; and does +she ever go, and settle scores with Madame Wang? and here she comes, on +this occasion, and gives vent again to this mean language, in order to +poke fun at people!" + +"How could Madame Wang," lady Feng laughed, "ever give a thought to such +trifles as these? They are, in fact, matters of no consequence. Yet were +I not to look after them, it would be a disgrace to all of us, and +needless to say, I would myself get into some scrape. It's far better +that I should dress you all properly, and so get a fair name and finish; +for were each of you to cut the figure of a burnt cake, people would +first and foremost ridicule me, by saying that in looking after the +household I have, instead of doing good, been the means of making +beggars of you!" + +After hearing her out, the whole party heaved a sigh. "Who could ever +be," they exclaimed, "so intuitively wise as you, to show, above, such +regard for Madame Wang, and below, such consideration for her +subordinates?" + +In the course of these remarks, they noticed lady Feng bid P'ing Erh +find the dark green stiff silk cloak with white fox, she had worn the +day before, and give it to Hsi Jen. But perceiving, also, that in the +way of a valise, she only had a double one made of black spotted, +figured sarcenet, with a lining of light red pongee silk, and that its +contents consisted merely of two wadded jackets, the worse for wear, and +a pelisse, lady Feng went on to tell P'ing Erh to fetch a woollen +wrapper, lined with jade-green pongee. But she ordered her besides to +pack up a snow-cloak for her. + +P'ing Erh walked away and produced the articles. The one was made of +deep-red felt, and was old. The other was of deep-red soft satin, +neither old nor new. + +"I don't deserve so much as a single one of these," Hsi Jen said. + +"Keep this felt one for yourself," P'ing Erh smiled, "and take this one +along with you and tell some one to send it to that elderly girl, who +while every one, in that heavy fall of snow yesterday, was rolled up in +soft satin, if not in felt, and while about ten dark red dresses were +reflected in the deep snow and presented such a fine sight, was the only +one attired in those shabby old clothes. She seems more than ever to +raise her shoulders and double her back. She is really to be pitied; so +take this now and give it to her!" + +"She surreptitiously wishes to give my things away!" lady Feng laughed. +"I haven't got enough to spend upon myself and here I have you, better +still, to instigate me to be more open-handed!" + +"This comes from the filial piety your ladyship has ever displayed +towards Madame Wang," every one laughingly remarked, "and the fond love +for those below you. For had you been mean and only thought of making +much of things and not cared a rap for your subordinates, would that +girl have presumed to behave in this manner?" + +"If any one therefore has read my heart, it's she," lady Feng rejoined +with a laugh, "but yet she only knows it in part." + +At the close of this rejoinder, she again spoke to Hsi Jen. "If your +mother gets well, all right," she said; "but if anything happens to her, +just stay over, and send some one to let me know so that I may specially +despatch a servant to bring you your bedding. But whatever you do, +don't, use their bedding, nor any of their things to comb your hair +with. As for you people," continuing, she observed to Mrs. Chou Jui, +"you no doubt are aware of the customs, prevailing in this +establishment, so that I can dispense with giving you any injunctions." + +"Yes, we know them all," Mrs. Chou Jui assented. "As soon as we get +there, we'll, of course, request their male inmates to retire out of the +way. And in the event of our having to stay over, we'll naturally apply +for one or two extra inner rooms." + +With these words still on her lips, she followed Hsi Jen out of the +apartment. Then directing the servant-boys to prepare the lanterns, +they, in due course, got into their curricle, and came to Hua Tzu-fang's +quarters, where we will leave them without any further comment. + +Lady Feng, meanwhile, sent also for two nurses from the I Hung court. "I +am afraid," she said to them, "that Hsi Jen won't come back, so if there +be any elderly girl, who has to your knowledge, so far, had her wits +about her, depute her to come and keep night watch in Pao-yue's rooms. +But you nurses must likewise take care and exercise some control, for +you mustn't let Pao-yue recklessly kick up any trouble!" + +"Quite so," answered the two nurses, agreeing to her directions, after +which, they quitted her presence. But not a long interval expired before +they came to report the result of their search. "We've set our choice +upon Ch'ing Wen and She Yueeh to put up in his rooms," they reported. "We +four will take our turn and look after things during the night." + +When lady Feng heard these arrangements, she nodded her head. "At +night," she observed, "urge him to retire to bed soon; and in the +morning press him to get up at an early hour." + +The nurses replied that they would readily carry out her orders and +returned alone into the garden. + +In a little time Chou Jui's wife actually brought the news, which she +imparted to lady Feng, that: "as her mother was already beyond hope, Hsi +Jen could not come back." + +Lady Feng then explained things to Madame Wang, and sent, at the same +time, servants to the garden of Broad Vista to fetch (Hsi Jen's) bedding +and toilet effects. + +Pao-yue watched Ch'ing Wen and She Yueeh get all her belongings in proper +order. After the things had been despatched, Ch'ing Wen and She Yueeh +divested themselves of their remaining fineries and changed their jupes +and jackets. Ch'ing Wen seated herself round a warming-frame. + +"Now," She Yueeh smiled, "you're not to put on the airs of a young lady! +I advise you to also move about a bit." + +"When you're all clean gone," Ch'ing Wen returned for answer, "I shall +have ample time to budge. But every day that you people are here, I +shall try and enjoy peace and quiet." + +"My dear girl," She Yueeh laughed, "I'll make the bed, but drop the cover +over that cheval-glass and put the catches right; you are so much taller +than I." + +So saying, she at once set to work to arrange the bed for Pao-yue. + +"Hai!" ejaculated Ch'ing Wen smiling, "one just sits down to warm one's +self, and here you come and disturb one!" + +Pao-yue had at this time been sitting, plunged in a despondent mood. The +thought of Hsi Jen's mother had crossed through his mind and he was +wondering whether she could be dead or alive, when unexpectedly +overhearing Ch'ing Wen pass the remarks she did, he speedily sprung up, +and came out himself and dropped the cover of the glass, and fastened +the contrivance, after which he walked into the room. "Warm yourselves," +he smiled, "I've done all there was to be done." + +"I can't manage," Ch'ing Wen rejoined smiling, "to get warm at all. It +just also strikes me that the warming-pan hasn't yet been brought." + +"You've had the trouble to think of it!" She Yueeh observed. "But you've +never wanted a chafing-dish before. It's so warm besides on that +warming-frame of ours; not like the stove-couch in that room, which is +so cold; so we can very well do without it to-day." + +"If both of you are to sleep on that," Pao-yue smiled, "there won't be a +soul with me outside, and I shall be in an awful funk. Even you won't be +able to have a wink of sleep during the whole night!" + +"As far as I'm concerned," Ch'ing Wen put in, "I'm going to sleep in +here. There's She Yueeh, so you'd better induce her to come and sleep +outside." + +But while they kept up this conversation, the first watch drew near, and +She Yueeh at once lowered the mosquito-curtain, removed the lamp, burnt +the joss-sticks, and waited upon Pao-yue until he got into bed. The two +maids then retired to rest. Ch'ing Wen reclined all alone on the +warming-frame, while She Yueeh lay down outside the winter apartments. + +The third watch had come and gone, when Pao-yue, in the midst of a dream, +started calling Hsi Jen. He uttered her name twice, but no one was about +to answer him. And it was after he had stirred himself out of sleep that +he eventually recalled to mind that Hsi Jen was not at home, and he had +a hearty fit laughter to himself. + +Ch'ing Wen however had been roused out of her sleep, and she called She +Yueeh. "Even I," she said, "have been disturbed, fast asleep though I +was; and, lo, she keeps a look-out by his very side and doesn't as yet +know anything about his cries! In very deed she is like a stiff corpse!" + +She Yueeh twisted herself round and yawned. "He calls Hsi Jen," she +smilingly rejoined, "so what's that to do with me? What do you want?" +proceeding, she then inquired of him. + +"I want some tea," Pao-yue replied. + +She Yueeh hastily jumped out of bed, with nothing on but a short wadded +coat of red silk. + +"Throw my pelisse over you;" Pao-yue cried; "for mind it's cold!" + +She Yueeh at these words put back her hands, and, taking the warm +pelisse, lined even up to the lapel, with fur from the neck of the +sable, which Pao-yue had put on on getting up, she threw it over her +shoulders and went below and washed her hands in the basin. Then filling +first a cup with tepid water, she brought a large cuspidor for Pao-yue to +wash his mouth. Afterwards, she drew near the tea-case, and getting a +cup, she first rinsed it with lukewarm water, and pouring half a cup of +tea from the warm teapot, she handed it to Pao-yue. After he had done, +she herself rinsed her mouth, and swallowed half a cupful of tea. + +"My dear girl," Ch'ing Wen interposed smiling, "do give me also a sip." + +"You put on more airs than ever," She Yueeh laughed. + +"My dear girl;" Ch'ing Wen added, "to-morrow night, you needn't budge; +I'll wait on you the whole night long. What do you say to that?" + +Hearing this, She Yueeh had no help but to attend to her as well, while +she washed her mouth, and to pour a cup of tea and give it to her to +drink. + +"Won't you two go to sleep," She Yueeh laughed, "but keep on chatting? +I'll go out for a time; I'll be back soon." + +"Are there any evil spirits waiting for you outside?" Ch'ing Wen smiled. + +"It's sure to be bright moonlight out of doors," Pao-yue observed, "so +go, while we continue our chat." + +So speaking, he coughed twice. + +She Yueeh opened the back-door, and raising the woollen portiere and +looking out, she saw what a beautiful moonlight there really was. + +Ch'ing Wen allowed her just time enough to leave the room, when she felt +a wish to frighten her for the sake of fun. But such reliance did she +have in her physique, which had so far proved better than that of +others, that little worrying her mind about the cold, she did not even +throw a cloak over her, but putting on a short jacket, she descended, +with gentle tread and light step, from the warming-frame and was making +her way out to follow in her wake, when "Hallo!" cried Pao-yue warning +her. "It's freezing; it's no joke!" + +Ch'ing Wen merely responded with a wave of the hand and sallied out of +the door to go in pursuit of her companion. The brilliancy of the moon, +which met her eye, was as limpid as water. But suddenly came a slight +gust of wind. She felt it penetrate her very flesh and bore through her +bones. So much so, that she could not help shuddering all over. "Little +wonder is it," she argued within herself, "if people say 'that one +mustn't, when one's body is warm, expose one's self to the wind.' This +cold is really dreadful!" She was at the same time just on the point of +giving (She Yueeh) a start, when she heard Pao-yue shout from inside, +"Ch'ing Wen has come out." + +Ch'ing Wen promptly turned back and entered the room. "How could I ever +frighten her to death?" she laughed. "It's just your way; you're as +great a coward as an old woman!" + +"It isn't at all that you might do her harm by frightening her," Pao-yue +smiled, "but, in the first place, it wouldn't be good for you to get +frost-bitten; and, in the second, you would take her so much off her +guard that she won't be able to prevent herself from uttering a shout. +So, in the event of rousing any of the others out of their sleep, they +won't say that we are up to jokes, but maintain instead that just as Hsi +Jen is gone, you two behave as if you'd come across ghosts or seen evil +spirits. Come and tuck in the coverlets on this side!" + +When Ch'ing Wen heard what he wanted done she came accordingly and +tucked in the covers, and, putting out her hands, she inserted them +under them, and set to work to warm the bedding. + +"How cold your hand is!" Pao-yue laughingly exclaimed. "I told you to +look out or you'd freeze!" + +Noticing at the same time that Ch'ing Wen's cheeks were as red as rouge, +he rubbed them with his hands. But as they felt icy cold to his touch, +"Come at once under the cover and warm yourself!" Pao-yue urged. + +Hardly, however, had he concluded these words, than a sound of 'lo teng' +reached their ears from the door, and She Yueeh rushed in all in a +tremor, laughing the while. + +"I've had such a fright," she smiled, as she went on speaking. "Goodness +me! I saw in the black shade, at the back of the boulders on that hill, +some one squatting, and was about to scream, when it turned out to be +nothing else than that big golden pheasant. As soon as it caught sight +of a human being, it flew away. But it was only when it reached a +moonlit place that I at last found out what it was. Had I been so +heedless as to scream, I would have been the means of getting people out +of their beds!" + +Recounting her experiences, she washed her hands. + +"Ch'ing Wen, you say, has gone out," she proceeded laughing, "but how is +it I never caught a glimpse of her? She must certainly have gone to +frighten me!" + +"Isn't this she?" Pao-yue inquired with a smile. "Is she not here warming +herself? Had I not been quick in shouting, she would verily have given +you a fright." + +"There was no need for me to go and frighten her," Ch'ing Wen laughingly +observed. "This hussy has frightened her own self." + +With these words she ensconced herself again under her own coverlet. +"Did you forsooth go out," She Yueeh remarked, "in this smart dress of a +circus-performer?" + +"Why, of course, she went out like this!" Pao-yue smiled. + +"You wouldn't know, for the life of you, how to choose a felicitous +day!" She Yueeh added. "There you go and stand about on a fruitless +errand. Won't your skin get chapped from the frost?" + +Saying this, she again raised the copper cover from the brasier, and, +picking up the shovel, she buried the live charcoal deep with ashes, and +taking two bits of incense of Cambodia fragrant wood, she threw them +over them. She then re-covered the brasier, and repairing to the back of +the screen, she gave the lamp a thorough trimming to make it throw out +more light; after which, she once more laid herself down. + +As Ch'ing Wen had some time before felt cold, and now began to get warm +again, she unexpectedly sneezed a couple of times. + +"How about that?" sighed Pao-yue. "There you are; you've after all caught +a chill!" + +"Early this morning," She Yueeh smiled, "she shouted that she wasn't +feeling quite herself. Neither did she have the whole day a proper bowl +of food. And now, not to speak of her taking so little care of herself, +she is still bent upon playing larks upon people! But if she falls ill +by and bye, we'll let her suffer what she will have brought upon +herself." + +"Is your head hot?" Pao-yue asked. + +"It's nothing at all!" Ch'ing Wen rejoined, after coughing twice. "When +did I get so delicate?" + +But while she spoke, they heard the striking clock, suspended on the +partition wall in the outer rooms, give two sounds of 'tang, tang,' and +the matron, on the night watch outside, say: "Now, young girls, go to +sleep. To-morrow will be time enough for you to chat and laugh!" + +"Don't let's talk!" Pao-yue then whispered, "for, mind, we'll also induce +them to start chattering." After this, they at last went to sleep. + +The next day, they got up at an early hour. Ch'ing Wen's nose was indeed +considerably stopped. Her voice was hoarse; and she felt no inclination +to move. + +"Be quick," urged Pao-yue, "and don't make a fuss, for your mistress, my +mother, may come to know of it, and bid you also shift to your house and +nurse yourself. Your home might, of course, be all very nice, but it's +in fact somewhat cold. So isn't it better here? Go and lie down in the +inner rooms, and I'll give orders to some one to send for the doctor to +come quietly by the back door and have a look at you. You'll then get +all right again." + +"In spite of what you say," Ch'ing Wen demurred, "you must really say +something about it to our senior lady, Mrs. Chia Chu; otherwise the +doctor will be coming unawares, and people will begin to ask questions; +and what answer could one give them?" + +Pao-yue found what she said so full of reason that he called an old +nurse. "Go and deliver this message to your senior mistress," he +enjoined her. "Tell her that Ch'ing Wen got a slight chill yesterday. +That as it's nothing to speak of, and Hsi Jen is besides away, there +would be, more than ever, no one here to look after things, were she to +go home and attend to herself, so let her send for a doctor to come +quietly by the back entrance and see what's the matter with her; but +don't let her breathe a word about it to Madame Wang, my mother." + +The old nurse was away a considerable time on the errand. On her return, +"Our senior mistress," she reported, "has been told everything. She says +that: 'if she gets all right, after taking a couple of doses of +medicine, it will be well and good. But that in the event of not +recovering, it would, really, be the right thing for her to go to her +own home. That the season isn't healthy at present, and that if the +other girls caught her complaint it would be a small thing; but that the +good health of the young ladies is a vital matter.'" + +Ch'ing Wen was lying in the winter apartment, coughing and coughing, +when overhearing (Li Wan's) answer, she lost control over her temper. +"Have I got such a dreadful epidemic," she said, "that she fears that I +shall bring it upon others? I'll clear off at once from this place; for +mind you don't get any headaches and hot heads during the course of your +lives." + +"While uttering her grievances, she was bent upon getting up +immediately, when Pao-yue hastened to smile and to press her down. + +"Don't lose your temper," he advised her. "This is a responsibility +which falls upon her shoulders, so she is afraid lest Madame Wang might +come to hear of it, and call her to task. She only made a harmless +remark. But you've always been prone to anger, and now, as a matter of +course your spleen is larger than ever." + +But in the middle of his advice to her, a servant came and told him that +the doctor had arrived. Pao-yue accordingly crossed over to the off side, +and retired behind the bookcase; from whence he perceived two or three +matrons, whose duty it was to keep watch at the back door, usher the +doctor in. + +The waiting-maids, meanwhile, withdrew out of the way. Three or four old +nurses dropped the deep-red embroidered curtain, suspended in the winter +apartment. Ch'ing Wen then simply stretched out her hand from among the +folds of the curtain. But the doctor noticed that on two of the fingers +of her hand, the nails, which measured fully two or three inches in +length, still bore marks of the pure red dye from the China balsam, and +forthwith he turned his head away. An old nurse speedily fetched a towel +and wiped them for her, when the doctor set to work and felt her pulse +for a while, after which he rose and walked into the outer chamber. + +"Your young lady's illness," he said to the old nurses, "arises from +external sources, and internal obstructive influences, caused by the +unhealthiness of the season of late. Yet it's only a slight chill, after +all. Fortunately, the young lady has ever been moderate in her drinking +and eating. The cold she has is nothing much. It's mainly because she +has a weak constitution that she has unawares got a bit of a chill. But +if she takes a couple of doses of medicine to dispel it with, she'll be +quite right." + +So saying, he followed once more the matron out of the house. + +Li Wan had, by this time, sent word to the various female domestics at +the back entrance, as well as to the young maids in the different parts +of the establishment to keep in retirement. All therefore that the +doctor perceived as he went along was the scenery in the garden. But not +a single girl did he see. + +Shortly, he made his exit out of the garden gate, and taking a seat in +the duty-lodge of the servant-lads, who looked after the +garden-entrance, he wrote a prescription. + +"Sir," urged an old nurse, "don't go yet. Our young master is fretful +and there may be, I fancy, something more to ask you." + +"Wasn't the one I saw just now a young lady," the doctor exclaimed with +eagerness, "but a young man, eh? Yet the rooms were such as are occupied +by ladies. The curtains were besides let down. So how could the patient +I saw have ever been a young man?" + +"My dear sir," laughed the old nurse, "it isn't strange that a +servant-girl said just now that a new doctor had been sent for on this +occasion, for you really know nothing about our family matters. That +room is that of our young master, and that is a girl attached to the +apartments; but she's really a servant-maid. How ever were those a young +lady's rooms? Had a young lady fallen ill, would you ever have +penetrated inside with such ease?" + +With these words, she took the prescription and wended her way into the +garden. + +When Pao-yue came to peruse it, he found, above, such medicines mentioned +as sweet basil, platycodon, carraway seeds, mosla dianthera, and the +like; and, below, citrus fusca and sida as well. + +"He deserves to be hanged! He deserves death!" Pao-yue shouted. "Here he +treats girls in the very same way as he would us men! How could this +ever do? No matter what internal obstruction there may be, how could she +ever stand citrus and sida? Who asked him to come? Bundle him off at +once; and send for another, who knows what he's about." + +"Whether he uses the right medicines or not," the old nurse pleaded, "we +are not in a position to know. But we'll now tell a servant-lad to go +and ask Dr. Wang round. It's easy enough! The only thing is that as this +doctor wasn't sent for through the head manager's office his fee must be +paid to him." + +"How much must one give him?" Pao-yue inquired. + +"Were one to give him too little, it wouldn't look nice," a matron +ventured. "He should be given a tael. This would be quite the thing with +such a household as ours." + +"When Dr. Wang comes," Pao-yue asked, "how much is he given?" + +"Whenever Dr. Wang and Dr. Chang come," a matron smilingly explained, +"no money is ever given them. At the four seasons of each year however +presents are simply sent to them in a lump. This is a fixed annual +custom. But this new doctor has come only this once so he should be +given a tael." + +After this explanation, Pao-yue readily bade She Yueeh go and fetch the +money. + +"I can't make out where sister Hua put it;" She Yueeh rejoined. + +"I've often seen her take money out of that lacquered press, ornamented +with designs made with shells;" Pao-yue added; "so come along with me, +and let's go and search." + +As he spoke, he and She Yueeh came together into what was used as a +store-room by Hsi Jen. Upon opening the shell-covered press, they found +the top shelf full of pens, pieces of ink, fans, scented cakes, various +kinds of purses, handkerchiefs and other like articles, while on the +lower shelf were piled several strings of cash. But, presently they +pulled out the drawer, when they saw, in a small wicker basket, several +pieces of silver, and a steelyard. + +She Yueeh quickly snatched a piece of silver. Then raising the steelyard, +"Which is the one tael mark?" she asked. + +Pao-yue laughed. "It's amusing that you should appeal to me!" he said. +"You really behave as if you had only just come!" + +She Yueeh also laughed, and was about to go and make inquiries of some +one else, when Pao-yue interfered. "Choose a piece out of those big ones +and give it to him, and have done," he said. "We don't go in for buying +and selling, so what's the use of minding such trifles!" + +She Yueeh, upon hearing this, dropped the steelyard, and selected a +piece, which she weighed in her hand. "This piece," she smiled, "must, I +fancy, be a tael. But it would be better to let him have a little more. +Don't let's give too little as those poor brats will have a laugh at our +expense. They won't say that we know nothing about the steelyard; but +that we are designedly mean." + +A matron who stood at the threshold of the door, smilingly chimed in. +"This ingot," she said, "weighs five taels. Even if you cut half of it +off, it will weigh a couple of taels, at least. But there are no sycee +shears at hand, so, miss, put this piece aside and choose a smaller +one." + +She Yueeh had already closed the press and walked out. "Who'll go and +fumble about again?" she laughed. "If there's a little more, well, you +take it and finish." + +"Be quick," Pao-yue remarked, "and tell Pei Ming to go for another +doctor. It will be all right." + +The matron received the money and marched off to go and settle matters. + +Presently, Dr. Wang actually arrived, at the invitation of Pei Ming. +First and foremost he felt the pulse and then gave the same diagnosis of +the complaint (as the other doctor did) in the first instance. The only +difference being that there was, in fact, no citrus or sida or other +similar drugs, included in the prescription. It contained, however, +false sarsaparilla roots, dried orange peel, peonia albifora, and other +similar medicines. But the quantities were, on the other hand, +considerably smaller, as compared with those of the drugs mentioned in +the former prescription. + +"These are the medicines," Pao-yue ejaculated exultingly, "suitable for +girls! They should, it's true, be of a laxative nature, but never over +and above what's needful. When I fell ill last year, I suffered from a +chill, but I got such an obstruction in the viscera that I could neither +take anything liquid or substantial, yet though he saw the state I was +in, he said that I couldn't stand sida, ground gypsum, citrus and other +such violent drugs. You and I resemble the newly-opened white begonia, +Yuen Erh sent me in autumn. And how could you resist medicines which are +too much for me? We're like the lofty aspen trees, which grow in +people's burial grounds. To look at, the branches and leaves are of +luxuriant growth, but they are hollow at the core." + +"Do only aspen trees grow in waste burial grounds?" She Yueeh smiled. "Is +it likely, pray, that there are no fir and cypress trees? What's more +loathsome than any other is the aspen. For though a lofty tree, it only +has a few leaves; and it makes quite a confused noise with the slightest +puff of wind! If you therefore deliberately compare yourself to it, +you'll also be ranging yourself too much among the common herd!" + +"I daren't liken myself to fir or cypress;" Pao-yue laughingly retorted. +"Even Confucius says: 'after the season waxes cold, one finds that the +fir and cypress are the last to lose their foliage,' which makes it +evident that these two things are of high excellence. Thus it's those +only, who are devoid of every sense of shame, who foolishly liken +themselves to trees of the kind!" + +While engaged in this colloquy, they perceived the old matron bring the +drugs, so Pao-yue bade her fetch the silver pot, used for boiling +medicines in, and then he directed her to prepare the decoction on the +brasier. + +"The right thing would be," Ch'ing Wen suggested, "that you should let +them go and get it ready in the tea-room; for will it ever do to fill +this room with the smell of medicines?" + +"The smell of medicines," Pao-yue rejoined, "is far nicer than that +emitted by the whole lot of flowers. Fairies pick medicines and prepare +medicines. Besides this, eminent men and cultured scholars gather +medicines and concoct medicines; so that it constitutes a most excellent +thing. I was just thinking that there's everything and anything in these +rooms and that the only thing that we lack is the smell of medicines; +but as luck would have it, everything is now complete." + +Speaking, he lost no time in giving orders to a servant to put the +medicines on the fire. Next, he advised She Yueeh to get ready a few +presents and bid a nurse take them and go and look up Hsi Jen, and +exhort her not to give way to excessive grief. And when he had settled +everything that had to be seen to, he repaired to the front to dowager +lady Chia's and Madame Wang's quarters, and paid his respects and had +his meal. + +Lady Feng, as it happened, was just engaged in consulting with old lady +Chia and Madame Wang. "The days are now short as well as cold," she +argued, "so wouldn't it be advisable that my senior sister-in-law, Mrs. +Chia Chu, should henceforward have her repasts in the garden, along with +the young ladies? When the weather gets milder, it won't at all matter, +if they have to run backward and forward." + +"This is really a capital idea!" Madame Wang smiled. "It will be so +convenient during windy and rainy weather. To inhale the chilly air +after eating isn't good. And to come quite empty, and begin piling up a +lot of things in a stomach full of cold air isn't quite safe. It would +be as well therefore to select two cooks from among the women, who have, +anyhow, to keep night duty in the large five-roomed house, inside the +garden back entrance, and station them there for the special purpose of +preparing the necessary viands for the girls. Fresh vegetables are +subject to some rule of distribution, so they can be issued to them from +the general manager's office. Or they might possibly require money or be +in need of some things or other. And it will be all right if a few of +those pheasants, deer, and every kind of game, be apportioned to them." + +"I too was just thinking about this," dowager lady Chia observed. "The +only thing I feared was that with the extra work that would again be +thrown upon the cook-house, they mightn't have too much to do." + +"There'll be nothing much to do," lady Feng replied. "The same +apportionment will continue as ever. In here, something may be added; +but in there something will be reduced. Should it even involve a little +trouble, it will be a small matter. If the girls were exposed to the +cold wind, every one else might stand it with impunity; but how could +cousin Lin, first and foremost above all others, resist anything of the +kind? In fact, brother Pao himself wouldn't be proof against it. What's +more, none of the various young ladies can boast of a strong +constitution." + +What rejoinder old lady Chia made to lady Feng, at the close of her +representations, is not yet ascertained; so, reader, listen to the +explanations you will find given in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + + The beautiful P'ing Erh endeavours to conceal the loss of the + bracelet, made of work as fine as the feelers of a shrimp. + The brave Ch'ing Wen mends the down-cloak during her indisposition. + + +But let us return to our story. + +"Quite so!" was the reply with which dowager lady Chia (greeted lady +Feng's proposal). "I meant the other day to have suggested this +arrangement, but I saw that every one of you had so many urgent matters +to attend to, (and I thought) that although you would not presume to +bear me a grudge, were several duties now again superadded, you would +unavoidably imagine that I only regarded those young grandsons and +granddaughters of mine, and had no consideration for any of you, who +have to look after the house. But since you make this suggestion +yourself, it's all right." + +And seeing that Mrs. Hsueeh, and 'sister-in-law' Li were sitting with +her, and that Madame Hsing, and Mrs. Yu and the other ladies, who had +also crossed over to pay their respects, had not as yet gone to their +quarters, old lady Chia broached the subject with Madame Wang, and the +rest of the company. "I've never before ventured to give utterance to +the remarks that just fell from my lips," she said, "as first of all I +was in fear and trembling lest I should have made that girl Feng more +presumptuous than ever, and next, lest I should have incurred the +displeasure of one and all of you. But since you're all here to-day, and +every one of you knows what brothers' wives and husbands' sisters mean, +is there (I ask) any one besides her as full of forethought?" + +Mrs. Hsueeh, 'sister-in-law' Li and Mrs. Yu smiled with one consent. +"There are indeed but few like her!" they cried. "That of others is +simply a conventional 'face' affection, but she is really fond of her +husband's sisters and his young brother. In fact, she's as genuinely +filial with you, venerable senior." + +Dowager lady Chia nodded her head. "Albeit I'm fond of her," she sighed, +"I can't, on the other hand, help distrusting that excessive shrewdness +of hers, for it isn't a good thing." + +"You're wrong there, worthy ancestor," lady Feng laughed with alacrity. +"People in the world as a rule maintain that 'too shrewd and clever a +person can't, it is feared, live long.' Now what people of the world +invariably say people of the world invariably believe. But of you alone, +my dear senior, can no such thing be averred or believed. For there you +are, ancestor mine, a hundred times sharper and cleverer than I; and how +is it that you now enjoy both perfect happiness and longevity? But I +presume that I shall by and bye excel you by a hundredfold, and die at +length, after a life of a thousand years, when you venerable senior +shall have departed from these mortal scenes!" + +"After every one is dead and gone," dowager lady Chia laughingly +observed, "what pleasure will there be, if two antiquated elves, like +you and I will be, remain behind?" + +This joke excited general mirth. + +But so concerned was Pao-yue about Ch'ing Wen and other matters that he +was the first to make a move and return into the garden. On his arrival +at his quarters, he found the rooms full of the fragrance emitted by the +medicines. Not a soul did he, however, see about. Ch'ing Wen was +reclining all alone on the stove-couch. Her face was feverish and red. +When he came to touch it, his hand experienced a scorching sensation. +Retracing his steps therefore towards the stove, he warmed his hands and +inserted them under the coverlet and felt her. Her body as well was as +hot as fire. + +"If the others have left," he then remarked, "there's nothing strange +about it, but are She Yueeh and Ch'iu Wen too so utterly devoid of +feeling as to have each gone after her own business?" + +"As regards Ch'iu Wen," Ch'ing Wen explained, "I told her to go and have +her meal. And as for She Yueeh, P'ing Erh came just now and called her +out of doors and there they are outside confabbing in a mysterious way! +What the drift of their conversation can be I don't know. But they must +be talking about my having fallen ill, and my not leaving this place to +go home." + +"P'ing Erh isn't that sort of person," Pao-yue pleaded. "Besides, she had +no idea whatever about your illness, so that she couldn't have come +specially to see how you were getting on. I fancy her object was to look +up She Yueeh to hobnob with her, but finding unexpectedly that you were +not up to the mark, she readily said that she had come on purpose to +find what progress you were making. This was quite a natural thing for a +person with so wily a disposition to say, for the sake of preserving +harmony. But if you don't go home, it's none of her business. You two +have all along been, irrespective of other things, on such good terms +that she could by no means entertain any desire to injure the friendly +relations which exist between you, all on account of something that +doesn't concern her." + +"Your remarks are right enough," Ch'ing Wen rejoined, "but I do suspect +her, as why did she too start, all of a sudden, imposing upon me?" + +"Wait, I'll walk out by the back door," Pao-yue smiled, "and go to the +foot of the window, and listen to what she's saying. I'll then come and +tell you." + +Speaking the while, he, in point of fact, sauntered out of the back +door; and getting below the window, he lent an ear to their confidences. + +"How did you manage to get it?" She Yueh inquired with gentle voice. + +"When I lost sight of it on that day that I washed my hands," P'ing Erh +answered, "our lady Secunda wouldn't let us make a fuss. But the moment +she left the garden, she there and then sent word to the nurses, +stationed in the various places, to institute careful search. Our +suspicions, however, fell upon Miss Hsing's maid, who has ever also been +poverty-stricken; surmising that a young girl of her age, who had never +set eyes upon anything of the kind, may possibly have picked it up and +taken it. But never did we positively believe that it could be some one +from this place of yours! Happily, our lady Secunda wasn't in the room, +when that nurse Sung who is with you here went over, and said, producing +the bracelet, 'that the young maid, Chui Erh, had stolen it, and that +she had detected her, and come to lay the matter before our lady +Secunda. I promptly took over the bracelet from her; and recollecting +how imperious and exacting Pao-yue is inclined to be, fond and devoted as +he is to each and all of you; how the jade which was prigged the other +year by a certain Liang Erh, is still, just as the matter has cooled +down for the last couple of years, canvassed at times by some people +eager to serve their own ends; how some one has now again turned up to +purloin this gold trinket; how it was filched, to make matters worse, +from a neighbour's house; how as luck would have it, she took this of +all things; and how it happened to be his own servant to give him a slap +on his mouth, I hastened to enjoin nurse Sung to, on no account +whatever, let Pao-yue know anything about it, but simply pretend that +nothing of the kind had transpired, and to make no mention of it to any +single soul. In the second place,' (I said), 'our dowager lady and +Madame Wang would get angry, if they came to hear anything. Thirdly, Hsi +Jen as well as yourselves would not also cut a very good figure.' Hence +it was that in telling our lady Secunda, I merely explained 'that on my +way to our senior mistress,' the bracelet got unclasped, without my +knowing it; that it fell among the roots of the grass; that there was no +chance of seeing it while the snow was deep, but that when the snow +completely disappeared to-day there it glistened, so yellow and bright, +in the rays of the sun, in precisely the very place where it had +dropped, and that I then picked it up.' Our lady Secunda at once +credited my version. So here I come to let you all know so as to be +henceforward a little on your guard with her, and not get her a job +anywhere else. Wait until Hsi Jen's return, and then devise means to +pack her off, and finish with her." + +"This young vixen has seen things of this kind before," She Yueeh +ejaculated, "and how is it that she was so shallow-eyed?" + +"What could, after all, be the weight of this bracelet?" P'ing Erh +observed. "It was once our lady Secunda's. She says that this is called +the 'shrimp-feeler'-bracelet. But it's the pearl, which increases its +weight. That minx Ch'ing Wen is as fiery as a piece of crackling +charcoal, so were anything to be told her, she may, so little able is +she to curb her temper, flare up suddenly into a huff, and beat or scold +her, and kick up as much fuss as she ever has done before. That's why I +simply tell you. Exercise due care, and it will be all right." + +With this warning, she bid her farewell and went on her way. + +Her words delighted, vexed and grieved Pao-yue. He felt delighted, on +account of the consideration shown by P'ing Erh for his own feelings. +Vexed, because Chui Erh had turned out a petty thief. Grieved, that Chui +Erh, who was otherwise such a smart girl, should have gone in for this +disgraceful affair. Returning consequently into the house, he told +Ch'ing Wen every word that P'ing Erh had uttered. "She says," he went on +to add, "that you're so fond of having things all your own way that were +you to hear anything of this business, now that you are ill, you would +get worse, and that she only means to broach the subject with you, when +you get quite yourself again." + +Upon hearing this, Ch'ing Wen's ire was actually stirred up, and her +beautiful moth-like eyebrows contracted, and her lovely phoenix eyes +stared wide like two balls. So she immediately shouted out for Chui Erh. + +"If you go on bawling like that," Pao-yue hastily remonstrated with her, +"won't you show yourself ungrateful for the regard with which P'ing Erh +has dealt with you and me? Better for us to show ourselves sensible of +her kindness and by and bye pack the girl off, and finish." + +"Your suggestion is all very good," Ch'ing Wen demurred, "but how could +I suppress this resentment?" + +"What's there to feel resentment about?" Pao-yue asked. "Just you take +good care of yourself; it's the best thing you can do." + +Ch'ing Wen then took her medicine. When evening came, she had another +couple of doses. But though in the course of the night, she broke out +into a slight perspiration, she did not see any change for the better in +her state. Still she felt feverish, her head sore, her nose stopped, her +voice hoarse. The next day, Dr. Wang came again to examine her pulse and +see how she was getting on. Besides other things, he increased the +proportions of certain medicines in the decoction and reduced others; +but in spite of her fever having been somewhat brought down, her head +continued to ache as much as ever. + +"Go and fetch the snuff," Pao-yue said to She Yueeh, "and give it to her +to sniff. She'll feel more at ease after she has had several strong +sneezes." + +She Yueeh went, in fact, and brought a flat crystal bottle, inlaid with a +couple of golden stars, and handed it to Pao-yue. + +Pao-yue speedily raised the cover of the bottle. Inside it, he +discovered, represented on western enamel, a fair-haired young girl, in +a state of nature, on whose two sides figured wings of flesh. This +bottle contained some really first-rate foreign snuff. + +Ch'ing Wen's attention was fixedly concentrated on the representation. + +"Sniff a little!" Pao-yue urged. "If the smell evaporates, it won't be +worth anything." + +Ch'ing Wen, at his advice, promptly dug out a little with her nail, and +applied it to her nose. But with no effect. So digging out again a good +quantity of it, she pressed it into her nostrils. Then suddenly she +experienced a sensation in her nose as if some pungent matter had +penetrated into the very duct leading into the head, and she sneezed +five or six consecutive times, until tears rolled down from her eyes and +mucus trickled from her nostrils. + +Ch'ing Wen hastily put the bottle away. "It's dreadfully pungent!" she +laughed. "Bring me some paper, quick!" + +A servant-girl at once handed her a pile of fine paper. + +Ch'ing Wen extracted sheet after sheet, and blew her nose. + +"Well," said Pao-yue smiling, "how are you feeling now?" + +"I'm really considerably relieved." Ch'ing Wen rejoined laughing. "The +only thing is that my temples still hurt me." + +"Were you to treat yourself exclusively with western medicines, I'm sure +you'd get all right," Pao-yue added smilingly. Saying this, "Go," he +accordingly desired She Yueeh, "to our lady Secunda, and ask her for +some. Tell her that I spoke to you about them. My cousin over there +often uses some western plaster, which she applies to her temples when +she's got a headache. It's called 'I-fo-na.' So try and get some of it!" + +She Yueeh expressed her readiness. After a protracted absence, she, in +very deed, came back with a small bit of the medicine; and going quickly +for a piece of red silk cutting, she got the scissors and slit two round +slips off as big as the tip of a finger. After which, she took the +medicine, and softening it by the fire, she spread it on them with a +hairpin. + +Ch'ing Wen herself laid hold of a looking-glass with a handle and stuck +the bits on both her temples. + +"While you were lying sick," She Yueeh laughed, "you looked like a +mangy-headed devil! But with this stuff on now you present a fine sight! +As for our lady Secunda she has been so much in the habit of sticking +these things about her that they don't very much show off with her!" + +This joke over, "Our lady Secunda said," she resumed, addressing herself +to Pao-yue, "'that to-morrow is your maternal uncle's birthday, and that +our mistress, your mother, asked her to tell you to go over. That +whatever clothes you will put on to-morrow should be got ready to-night, +so as to avoid any trouble in the morning.'" + +"Anything that comes first to hand," Pao-yue observed, "will do well +enough! There's no getting, the whole year round, at the end of all the +fuss of birthdays!" + +Speaking the while, he rose to his feet and left the room with the idea +of repairing to Hsi Ch'un's quarters to have a look at the painting. As +soon as he got outside the door of the court-yard, he unexpectedly spied +Pao-ch'in's young maid, Hsiao Lo by name, crossing over from the +opposite direction. Pao-yue, with rapid step, strode up to her, and +inquired of her whither she was going. + +"Our two young ladies," Hsiao Lo answered with a smile, "are in Miss +Lin's rooms; so I'm also now on my way thither." + +Catching this answer, Pao-yue wheeled round and came at once with her to +the Hsiao Hsiang Lodge. Here not only did he find Pao-ch'ai and her +cousin, but Hsing Chou-yen as well. The quartet was seated in a circle +on the warming-frame; carrying on a friendly chat on everyday domestic +matters; while Tzu Chuean was sitting in the winter apartment, working at +some needlework by the side of the window. + +The moment they caught a glimpse of him, their faces beamed with smiles. +"There comes some one else!" they cried. "There's no room for you to +sit!" + +"What a fine picture of beautiful girls, in the winter chamber!" Pao-yue +smiled. "It's a pity I come a trifle too late! This room is, at all +events, so much warmer than any other, that I won't feel cold if I plant +myself on this chair." + +So saying, he made himself comfortable on a favourite chair of Tai-yue's +over which was thrown a grey squirrel cover. But noticing in the winter +apartment a jadestone bowl, full of single narcissi, in clusters of +three or five, Pao-yue began praising their beauty with all the language +he could command. "What lovely flowers!" he exclaimed. "The warmer the +room gets, the stronger is the fragrance emitted by these flowers! How +is it I never saw them yesterday?" + +"These are," Tai-yue laughingly explained, "from the two pots of +narcissi, and two pots of allspice, sent to Miss Hsueeh Secunda by the +wife of Lai Ta, the head butler in your household. Of these, she gave me +a pot of narcissi; and to that girl Yuen, a pot of allspice. I didn't at +first mean to keep them, but I was afraid of showing no consideration +for her kind attention. But if you want them, I'll, in my turn, present +them to you. Will you have them; eh?" + +"I've got two pots of them in my rooms," Pao-yue replied, "but they're +not up to these. How is it you're ready to let others have what cousin +Ch'in has given you? This can on no account do!" + +"With me here," Tai-yue added, "the medicine pot never leaves the fire, +the whole day long. I'm only kept together by medicines. So how could I +ever stand the smell of flowers bunging my nose? It makes me weaker than +ever. Besides, if there's the least whiff of medicines in this room, it +will, contrariwise, spoil the fragrance of these flowers. So isn't it +better that you should have them carried away? These flowers will then +breathe a purer atmosphere, and won't have any mixture of smells to +annoy them." + +"I've also got now some one ill in my place," Pao-yue retorted with a +smile, "and medicines are being decocted. How comes it you happen to +know nothing about it?" + +"This is strange!" Tai-yue laughed. "I was really speaking quite +thoughtlessly; for who ever knows what's going on in your apartments? +But why do you, instead of getting here a little earlier to listen to +old stories, come at this moment to bring trouble and vexation upon your +own self?" + +Pao-yue gave a laugh. "Let's have a meeting to-morrow," he proposed, "for +we've also got the themes. Let's sing the narcissus and allspice." + +"Never mind, drop that!" Tai-yue rejoined, upon hearing his proposal. "I +can't venture to write any more verses. Whenever I indite any, I'm +mulcted. So I'd rather not be put to any great shame." + +While uttering these words she screened her face with both hands. + +"What's the matter?" Pao-yue smiled. "Why are you again making fun of me? +I'm not afraid of any shame, but, lo, you screen your face." + +"The next time," Pao-ch'ai felt impelled to interpose laughingly, "I +convene a meeting, we'll have four themes for odes and four for songs; +and each one of us will have to write four odes and four roundelays. The +theme of the first ode will treat of the plan of the great extreme; the +rhyme fixed being 'hsien,' (first), and the metre consisting of five +words in each line. We'll have to exhaust every one of the rhymes under +'hsien,' and mind, not a single one may be left out." + +"From what you say," Pao-ch'in smilingly observed, "it's evident that +you're not in earnest, cousin, in setting the club on foot. It's clear +enough that your object is to embarrass people. But as far as the verses +go, we could forcibly turn out a few, just by higgledy-piggledy taking +several passages from the 'Canon of Changes,' and inserting them in our +own; but, after all, what fun will there be in that sort of thing? When +I was eight years of age, I went with my father to the western seaboard +to purchase foreign goods. Who'd have thought it, we came across a girl +from the 'Chen Chen' kingdom. She was in her eighteenth year, and her +features were just like those of the beauties one sees represented in +foreign pictures. She had also yellow hair, hanging down, and arranged +in endless plaits. Her whole head was ornamented with one mass of +cornelian beads, amber, cats' eyes, and 'grandmother-green-stone.' On +her person, she wore a chain armour plaited with gold, and a coat, which +was up to the very sleeves, embroidered in foreign style. In a belt, she +carried a Japanese sword, also inlaid with gold and studded with +precious gems. In very truth, even in pictures, there is no one as +beautiful as she. Some people said that she was thoroughly conversant +with Chinese literature, and could explain the 'Five classics,' that she +was able to write odes and devise roundelays, and so my father requested +an interpreter to ask her to write something. She thereupon wrote an +original stanza, which all, with one voice, praised for its remarkable +beauty, and extolled for its extraordinary merits." + +"My dear cousin," eagerly smiled Pao-yue, "produce what she wrote, and +let's have a look at it." + +"It's put away in Nanking;" Pao-ch'in replied with a smile. "So how +could I at present go and fetch it?" + +Great was Pao-yue's disappointment at this rejoinder. "I've no luck," he +cried, "to see anything like this in the world." + +Tai-yue laughingly laid hold of Pao-ch'in. "Don't be humbugging us!" she +remarked. "I know well enough that you are not likely, on a visit like +this, to have left any such things of yours at home. You must have +brought them along. Yet here you are now again palming off a fib on us +by saying that you haven't got them with you. You people may believe +what she says, but I, for my part, don't." + +Pao-ch'in got red in the face. Drooping her head against her chest, she +gave a faint smile; but she uttered not a word by way of response. + +"Really P'in Erh you've got into the habit of talking like this!" +Pao-ch'ai laughed. "You're too shrewd by far." + +"Bring them along," Tai-yue urged with a smile, "and give us a chance of +seeing something and learning something; it won't hurt them." + +"There's a whole heap of trunks and baskets," Pao-ch'ai put in laughing, +"which haven't been yet cleared away. And how could one tell in which +particular one, they're packed up? Wait a few days, and when things will +have been put straight a bit, we'll try and find them: and every one of +us can then have a look at them; that will be all right. But if you +happen to remember the lines," she pursued, speaking to Pao-ch'in, "why +not recite them for our benefit?" + +"I remember so far that her lines consisted of a stanza with five +characters in each line," Pao-ch'ai returned for answer. "For a foreign +girl, they're verily very well done." + +"Don't begin for a while," Pao-ch'ai exclaimed. "Let me send for Yuen +Erh, so that she too might hear them." + +After this remark, she called Hsiao Lo to her. "Go to my place," she +observed, "and tell her that a foreign beauty has come over, who's a +splendid hand at poetry. 'You, who have poetry on the brain,' (say to +her), 'are invited to come and see her,' and then lay hold of this +verse-maniac of ours and bring her along." + +Hsiao Lo gave a smile, and went away. After a long time, they heard +Hsiang-yuen laughingly inquire, "What foreign beauty has come?" But while +asking this question, she made her appearance in company with Hsiang +Ling. + +"We heard your voices long before we caught a glimpse of your persons!" +the party laughed. + +Pao-ch'in and her companions motioned to her to sit down, and, in due +course, she reiterated what she had told them a short while back. + +"Be quick, out with it! Let's hear what it is!" Hsiang-yuen smilingly +cried. + +Pao-ch'in thereupon recited: + + Last night in the Purple Chamber I dreamt. + This evening on the 'Shui Kuo' Isle I sing. + The clouds by the isle cover the broad sea. + The zephyr from the peaks reaches the woods. + The moon has never known present or past. + From shallow and deep causes springs love's fate. + When I recall my springs south of the Han, + Can I not feel disconsolate at heart? + +After listening to her, "She does deserve credit," they unanimously +shouted, "for she really is far superior to us, Chinese though we be." + +But scarcely was this remark out of their lips, when they perceived She +Yueeh walk in. "Madame Wang," she said, "has sent a servant to inform +you, Master Secundus, that 'you are to go at an early hour to-morrow +morning to your maternal uncle's, and that you are to explain to him +that her ladyship isn't feeling quite up to the mark, and that she +cannot pay him a visit in person.'" + +Pao-yue precipitately jumped to his feet (out of deference to his +mother), and signified his assent, by answering 'Yes.' He then went on +to inquire of Pao-ch'ai and Pao-ch'in, "Are you two going?" + +"We're not going," Pao-ch'ai rejoined. "We simply went there yesterday +to take our presents over but we left after a short chat." + +Pao-yue thereupon pressed his female cousins to go ahead and he then +followed them. But Tai-yue called out to him again and stopped him. "When +is Hsi Jen, after all, coming back?" she asked. + +"She'll naturally come back after she has accompanied the funeral," +Pao-yue retorted. + +Tai-yue had something more she would have liked to tell him, but she +found it difficult to shape it into words. After some moments spent in +abstraction, "Off with you!" she cried. + +Pao-yue too felt that he treasured in his heart many things he would fain +confide to her, but he did not know what to bring to his lips, so after +cogitating within himself for a time, he likewise observed smilingly: +"We'll have another chat to-morrow," and, as he said so, he wended his +way down the stairs. Lowering his head, he was just about to take a step +forward, when he twisted himself round again with alacrity. "Now that +the nights are longer than they were, you're sure to cough often and +wake several times in the night; eh?" he asked. + +"Last night," Tai-yue answered, "I was all right; I coughed only twice. +But I only slept at the fourth watch for a couple of hours and then I +couldn't close my eyes again." + +"I really have something very important to tell you," Pao-yue proceeded +with another smile. "It only now crossed my mind." Saying this, he +approached her and added in a confidential tone: "I think that the +birds' nests sent to you by cousin Pao-chai...." + +Barely, however, had he had time to conclude than he spied dame Chao +enter the room to pay Tai-yue a visit. "Miss, have you been all right +these last few days?" she inquired. + +Tai-yue readily guessed that this was an attention extended to her merely +as she had, on her way back from T'an Ch'un's quarters, to pass by her +door, so speedily smiling a forced smile, she offered her a seat. + +"Many thanks, dame Chao," she said, "for the trouble of thinking of me, +and for coming in person in this intense cold." + +Hastily also bidding a servant pour the tea, she simultaneously winked +at Pao-yue. + +Pao-yue grasped her meaning, and forthwith quitted the apartment. As this +happened to be about dinner time, and he had been enjoined as well by +Madame Wang to be back at an early hour, Pao-yue returned to his +quarters, and looked on while Ch'ing Wen took her medicine. Pao-yue did +not desire Ch'ing Wen this evening to move into the winter apartment, +but stayed with Ch'ing Wen outside; and, giving orders to bring the +warming-frame near the winter apartment, She Yueh slept on it. + +Nothing of any interest worth putting on record transpired during the +night. On the morrow, before the break of day, Ch'ing Wen aroused She +Yueh. + +"You should awake," she said. "The only thing is that you haven't had +enough sleep. If you go out and tell them to get the water for tea ready +for him, while I wake him, it will be all right." + +She Yueh immediately jumped up and threw something over her. "Let's call +him to get up and dress in his fine clothes." she said. "We can summon +them in, after this fire-box has been removed. The old nurses told us +not to allow him to stay in this room for fear the virus of the disease +should pass on to him; so now if they see us bundled up together in one +place, they're bound to kick up another row." + +"That's my idea too," Ch'ing Wen replied. + +The two girls were then about to call him, when Pao-yue woke up of his +own accord, and speedily leaping out of bed, he threw his clothes over +him. + +She Yueeh first called a young maid into the room and put things +shipshape before she told Ch'in Wen and the other servant-girls to +enter; and along with them, she remained in waiting upon Pao-yue while he +combed his hair, and washed his face and hands. This part of his toilet +over, She Yueeh remarked: "It's cloudy again, so I suppose it's going to +snow. You'd better therefore wear a woollen overcoat!" + +Pao-yue nodded his head approvingly; and set to work at once to effect +the necessary change in his costume. A young waiting-maid then presented +him a covered bowl, in a small tea tray, containing a decoction made of +Fu-kien lotus and red dates. After Pao-yue had had a couple of mouthfuls, +She Yueeh also brought him a small plateful of brown ginger, prepared +according to some prescription. Pao-yue put a piece into his mouth, and, +impressing some advice on Ch'ing 'Wen, he crossed over to dowager lady +Chia's suite of rooms. + +His grandmother had not yet got out of bed. But she was well aware that +Pao-yue was going out of doors so having the entrance leading into her +bedroom opened she asked Pao-yue to walk in. Pao-yue espied behind the old +lady, Pao-ch'in lying with her face turned towards the inside, and not +awake yet from her sleep. + +Dowager lady Chia observed that Pao-yue was clad in a deep-red felt +fringed overcoat, with woollen lichee-coloured archery-sleeves and with +an edging of dark green glossy satin, embroidered with gold rings. +"What!" old lady Chia inquired, "is it snowing?" + +"The weather is dull," Pao-yue replied, "but it isn't snowing yet." + +Dowager lady Chia thereupon sent for Yuean Yang and told her to fetch the +peacock down pelisse, finished the day before, and give it to him. Yuean +Yang signified her obedience and went off, and actually returned with +what was wanted. + +When Pao-yue came to survey it, he found that the green and golden hues +glistened with bright lustre, that the jadelike variegated colours on it +shone with splendour, and that it bore no resemblance to the duck-down +coat, which Pao-ch'in had been wearing. + +"This," he heard his grandmother smilingly remark, "is called 'bird +gold'. This is woven of the down of peacocks, caught in Russia, twisted +into thread. The other day, I presented that one with the wild duck down +to your young female cousin, so I now give you this one." + +Pao-yue prostrated himself before her, after which he threw the coat over +his shoulders. + +"Go and let your mother see it before you start," his grandmother +laughingly added. + +Pao-yue assented, and quitted her apartments, when he caught sight of +Yuean Yang standing below rubbing her eyes. Ever since the day on which +Yuean Yang had sworn to have done with the match, she had not exchanged a +single word with Pao-yue. Pao-yue was therefore day and night a prey to +dejection. So when he now observed her shirk his presence again, Pao-yue +at once advanced up to her, and, putting on a smile, "My dear girl," he +said, "do look at the coat I've got on. Is it nice or not?" + +Yuean Yang shoved his hand away, and promptly walked into dowager lady +Chia's quarters. + +Pao-yue was thus compelled to repair to Madame Wang's room, and let her +see his coat. Retracing afterwards his footsteps into the garden, he let +Ch'ing Wen and She Yueeh also have a look at it, and then came and told +his grandmother that he had attended to her wishes. + +"My mother," he added, "has seen what I've got on. But all she said was: +'what a pity!' and then she went on to enjoin me to be 'careful with it +and not to spoil it.'" + +"There only remains this single one," old lady Chia observed, "so if you +spoil it you can't have another. Even did I want to have one made for +you like it now, it would be out of the question." + +At the close of these words, she went on to advise him. "Don't," she +said, "have too much wine and come back early." Pao-yue acquiesced by +uttering several yes's. + +An old nurse then followed him out into the pavilion. Here they +discovered six attendants, (that is), Pao-yue's milk-brother Li Kuei, and +Wang Ho-jung, Chang Jo-chin, Chao I-hua, Ch'ien Ch'i, and Chou Jui, as +well as four young servant-lads: Pei Ming, Pan Ho, Chu Shao and Sao +Hung; some carrying bundles of clothes on their backs, some holding +cushions in their hands, others leading a white horse with engraved +saddle and variegated bridles. They had already been waiting for a good +long while. The old nurse went on to issue some directions, and the six +servants, hastily expressing their obedience by numerous yes's, quickly +caught hold of the saddle and weighed the stirrup down while Pao-yue +mounted leisurely. Li Kuei and Wang Ho-jung then led the horse by the +bit. Two of them, Ch'ien Ch'i and Chou Jui, walked ahead and showed the +way. Chang Jo-chin and Chao I-hua followed Pao-yue closely on each side. + +"Brother Chou and brother Ch'ien," Pao-yue smiled, from his seat on his +horse, "let's go by this side-gate. It will save my having again to +dismount, when we reach the entrance to my father's study." + +"Mr. Chia Cheng is not in his study," Chou Jui laughed, with a curtsey. +"It has been daily under lock and key, so there will be no need for you, +master, to get down from your horse." + +"Though it be locked up," Pao-yue smiled, "I shall have to dismount all +the same." + +"You're quite right in what you say, master;" both Ch'ien Ch'i and Li +Kuei chimed in laughingly; "but pretend you're lazy and don't get down. +In the event of our coming across Mr. Lai Ta and our number two Mr. Lin, +they're sure, rather awkward though it be for them to say anything to +their master, to tender you one or two words of advice, but throw the +whole of the blame upon us. You can also tell them that we had not +explained to you what was the right thing to do." + +Chou Jui and Ch'ien Ch'i accordingly wended their steps straight for the +side-gate. But while they were keeping up some sort of conversation, +they came face to face with Lai Ta on his way in. + +Pao-yue speedily pulled in his horse, with the idea of dismounting. But +Lai Ta hastened to draw near and to clasp his leg. Pao-yue stood up on +his stirrup, and, putting on a smile, he took his hand in his, and made +several remarks to him. + +In quick succession, he also perceived a young servant-lad make his +appearance inside leading the way for twenty or thirty servants, laden +with brooms and dust-baskets. The moment they espied Pao-yue, they, one +and all, stood along the wall, and dropped their arms against their +sides, with the exception of the head lad, who bending one knee, said: +"My obeisance to you, sir." + +Pao-yue could not recall to mind his name or surname, but forcing a faint +smile, he nodded his head to and fro. It was only when the horse had +well gone past, that the lad eventually led the bevy of servants off, +and that they went after their business. + +Presently, they egressed from the side-gate. Outside, stood the +servant-lads of the six domestics, Li Kuei and his companions, as well +as several grooms, who had, from an early hour, got ready about ten +horses and been standing, on special duty, waiting for their arrival. As +soon as they reached the further end of the side-gate, Li Kuei and each +of the other attendants mounted their horses, and pressed ahead to lead +the way. Like a streak of smoke, they got out of sight, without any +occurrence worth noticing. + +Ch'ing Wen, meanwhile, continued to take her medicines. But still she +experienced no relief in her ailment. Such was the state of exasperation +into which she worked herself that she abused the doctor right and left. +"All he's good for," she cried, "is to squeeze people's money. But he +doesn't know how to prescribe a single dose of efficacious medicine for +his patients." + +"You have far too impatient a disposition!" She Yueeh said, as she +advised her, with a smile. "'A disease,' the proverb has it, 'comes like +a crumbling mountain, and goes like silk that is reeled.' Besides, +they're not the divine pills of 'Lao Chuen'. How ever could there be such +efficacious medicines? The only thing for you to do is to quietly look +after yourself for several days, and you're sure to get all right. But +the more you work yourself into such a frenzy, the worse you get!" + +Ch'ing Weng went on to heap abuse on the head of the young-maids. "Where +have they gone? Have they bored into the sand?" she ejaculated. "They +see well enough that I'm ill, so they make bold and runaway. But by and +bye when I recover, I shall take one by one of you and flay your skin +off for you." + +Ting Erh, a young maid, was struck with dismay, and ran up to her with +hasty step. "Miss," she inquired, "what's up with you?" + +"Is it likely that the rest are all dead and gone, and that there only +remains but you?" Ch'ing Wen exclaimed. + +But while she spoke, she saw Chui Erh also slowly enter the room. + +"Look at this vixen!" Ch'ing Wen shouted. "If I don't ask for her, she +won't come. Had there been any monthly allowances issued and fruits +distributed here, you would have been the first to run in! But approach +a bit! Am I tigress to gobble you up?" + +Chui Erh was under the necessity of advancing a few steps nearer to her. +But, all of a sudden, Ch'ing Wen stooped forward, and with a dash +clutching her hand, she took a long pin from the side of her pillow, and +pricked it at random all over. + +"What's the use of such paws?" she railed at her. "They don't ply a +needle, and they don't touch any thread! All you're good for is to prig +things to stuff that mouth of yours with! The skin of your phiz is +shallow and those paws of yours are light! But with the shame you bring +upon yourself before the world, isn't it right that I should prick you, +and make mincemeat of you?" + +Chui Erh shouted so wildly from pain that She Yueh stepped forward and +immediately drew them apart. She then pressed Ch'ing Wen, until she +induced her to lie down. + +"You're just perspiring," she remarked, "and here you are once more bent +upon killing yourself. Wait until you are yourself again! Won't you then +be able to give her as many blows as you may like? What's the use of +kicking up all this fuss just now?" + +Ch'ing Wen bade a servant tell nurse Sung to come in. "Our master +Secundus, Mr. Pao-yue, recently asked me to tell you," she remarked on +her arrival, "that Chui Erh is very lazy. He himself gives her orders to +her very face, but she is ever ready to raise objections and not to +budge. Even when Hsi Jen bids her do things, she vilifies her behind her +back. She must absolutely therefore be packed off to-day. And if Mr. Pao +himself lays the matter to-morrow before Madame Wang, things will be +square." + +After listening to her grievances, nurse Sung readily concluded in her +mind that the affair of the bracelet had come to be known. "What you +suggest is well and good, it's true," she consequently smiled, "but it's +as well to wait until Miss Hua (flower) returns and hears about the +things. We can then give her the sack." + +"Mr. Pao-yue urgently enjoined this to-day," Ch'ing Wen pursued, "so what +about Miss Hua (flower) and Miss Ts'ao (grass)? We've, of course, gob +rules of propriety here, so you just do as I tell you; and be quick and +send for some one from her house to come and fetch her away!" + +"Well, now let's drop this!" She Yueeh interposed. "Whether she goes soon +or whether she goes late is one and the same thing; so let them take her +away soon; we'll then be the sooner clear of her." + +At these words, nurse Sung had no alternative but to step out, and to +send for her mother. When she came, she got ready all her effects, and +then came to see Ch'ing Wen and the other girls. "Young ladies," she +said, "what's up? If your niece doesn't behave as she ought to, why, +call her to account. But why banish her from this place? You should, +indeed, leave us a little face!" + +"As regards what you say," Ch'ing Wen put in, "wait until Pao-yue comes, +and then we can ask him. It's nothing to do with us." + +The woman gave a sardonic smile. "Have I got the courage to ask him?" +she answered. "In what matter doesn't he lend an ear to any settlement +you, young ladies, may propose? He invariably agrees to all you say! But +if you, young ladies, aren't agreeable, it's really of no avail. When +you, for example, spoke just now,--it's true it was on the sly,--you +called him straightway by his name, miss. This thing does very well with +you, young ladies, but were we to do anything of the kind, we'd be +looked upon as very savages!" + +Ch'ing Wen, upon hearing her remark, became more than ever exasperated, +and got crimson in the face. "Yes, I called him by his name," she +rejoined, "so you'd better go and report me to our old lady and Madame +Wang. Tell them I'm a rustic and let them send me too off." + +"Sister-in-law," urged She Yueeh, "just you take her away; and if you've +got aught to say, you can say it by and bye. Is this a place for you to +bawl in and to try and explain what is right? Whom have you seen +discourse upon the rules of propriety with us? Not to speak of you, +sister-in-law, even Mrs. Lai Ta and Mrs. Lin treat us fairly well. And +as for calling him by name, why, from days of yore to the very present, +our dowager mistress has invariably bidden us do so. You yourselves are +well aware of it. So much did she fear that it would be a difficult job +to rear him that she deliberately wrote his infant name on slips of +paper and had them stuck everywhere and anywhere with the design that +one and all should call him by it. And this in order that it might +exercise a good influence upon his bringing up. Even water-coolies and +scavenger-coolies indiscriminately address him by his name; and how much +more such as we? So late, in fact, as yesterday Mrs. Lin gave him but +once the title of 'Sir,' and our old mistress called even her to task. +This is one side of the question. In the next place, we all have to go +and make frequent reports to our venerable dowager lady and Madame Wang, +and don't we with them allude to him by name in what we have to say? Is +it likely we'd also style him 'Sir?' What day is there that we don't +utter the two words 'Pao-yue' two hundred times? And is it for you, +sister-in-law, to come and pick out this fault? But in a day or so, when +you've leisure to go to our old mistress' and Madame Wang's, you'll hear +us call him by name in their very presence, and then you'll feel +convinced. You've never, sister-in-law, had occasion to fulfil any +honourable duties by our old lady and our lady. From one year's end to +the other, all you do is to simply loaf outside the third door. So it's +no matter of surprise, if you don't happen to know anything of the +customs which prevail with us inside. But this isn't a place where you, +sister-in-law, can linger for long. In another moment, there won't be +any need for us to say anything; for some one will be coming to ask you +what you want, and what excuse will you be able to plead? So take her +away and let Mrs. Lin know about it; and commission her to come and find +our Mr. Secundus and tell him all. There are in this establishment over +a thousand inmates; one comes and another comes, so that though we know +people and inquire their names, we can't nevertheless imprint them +clearly on our minds." + +At the close of this long rigmarole, she at once told a young maid to +take the mop and wash the floors. + +The woman listened patiently to her arguments, but she could find no +words to say anything to her by way of reply. Nor did she have the +audacity to protract her stay. So flying into a huff, she took Chui Erh +along with her, and there and then made her way out. + +"Is it likely," nurse Sung hastily observed, "that a dame like you +doesn't know what manners mean? Your daughter has been in these rooms +for some time, so she should, when she is about to go, knock her head +before the young ladies. She has no other means of showing her +gratitude. Not that they care much about such things. Yet were she to +simply knock her head, she would acquit herself of a duty, if nothing +more. But how is it that she says I'm going, and off she forthwith +rushes?" + +Chui Erh overheard these words, and felt under the necessity of turning +back. Entering therefore the apartment, she prostrated herself before +the two girls, and then she went in quest of Ch'iu Wen and her +companions, but neither did they pay any notice whatever to her. + +"Hai!" ejaculated the woman, and heaving a sigh--for she did not venture +to utter a word,--she walked off, fostering a grudge in her heart. + +Ch'ing Wen had, while suffering from a cold, got into a fit of anger +into the bargain, so instead of being better, she was worse, and she +tossed and rolled until the time came for lighting the lamps. But the +moment she felt more at ease, she saw Pao-yue come back. As soon as he +put his foot inside the door, he gave way to an exclamation, and stamped +his foot. + +"What's the reason of such behaviour?" She Yueeh promptly asked him. + +"My old grandmother," Pao-yue explained, "was in such capital spirits +that she gave me this coat to-day; but, who'd have thought it, I +inadvertently burnt part of the back lapel. Fortunately however the +evening was advanced so that neither she nor my mother noticed what had +happened." + +Speaking the while, he took it off. She Yueeh, on inspection, found +indeed a hole burnt in it of the size of a finger. "This," she said, +"must have been done by some spark from the hand-stove. It's of no +consequence." + +Immediately she called a servant to her. "Take this out on the sly," she +bade her, "and let an experienced weaver patch it. It will be all right +then." + +So saying, she packed it up in a wrapper, and a nurse carried it +outside. + +"It should be ready by daybreak," she urged. "And by no means let our +old lady or Madame Wang know anything about it." + +The matron brought it back again, after a protracted absence. "Not +only," she explained; "have weavers, first-class tailors, and +embroiderers, but even those, who do women's work, been asked about it, +and they all have no idea what this is made of. None of them therefore +will venture to undertake the job." + +"What's to be done?" She Yueeh inquired. "But it won't matter if you +don't wear it to-morrow." + +"To-morrow is the very day of the anniversary," Pao-yue rejoined. +"Grandmother and my mother bade me put this on and go and pay my visit; +and here I go and burn it, on the first day I wear it. Now isn't this +enough to throw a damper over my good cheer?" + +Ch'ing Wen lent an ear to their conversation for a long time, until +unable to restrain herself, she twisted herself round. "Bring it here," +she chimed in, "and let me see it! You haven't been lucky in wearing +this; but never mind!" + +These words were still on Ch'ing Wen's lips, when the coat was handed to +her. The lamp was likewise moved nearer to her. With minute care she +surveyed it. "This is made," Ch'ing Wen observed, "of gold thread, spun +from peacock's feathers. So were we now to also take gold thread, +twisted from the feathers of the peacock, and darn it closely, by +imitating the woof, I think it will pass without detection." + +"The peacock-feather-thread is ready at hand," She Yueeh remarked +smilingly. "But who's there, exclusive of you, able to join the +threads?" + +"I'll, needless to say, do my level best to the very cost of my life and +finish," Ch'ing Wen added. + +"How ever could this do?" Pao-yue eagerly interposed. "You're just +slightly better, and how could you take up any needlework?" + +"You needn't go on in this chicken-hearted way!" Ch'ing Wen cried. "I +know my own self well enough." + +With this reply, she sat up, and, putting her hair up, she threw +something over her shoulders. Her head felt heavy; her body light. +Before her eyes, confusedly flitted golden stirs. In real deed, she +could not stand the strain. But when inclined to give up the work, she +again dreaded that Pao-yue would be driven to despair. She therefore had +perforce to make a supreme effort and, setting her teeth to, she bore +the exertion. All the help she asked of She Yueeh was to lend her a hand +in reeling the thread. + +Ch'ing Wen first took hold of a thread, and put it side by side (with +those in the pelisse) to compare the two together. "This," she remarked, +"isn't quite like them; but when it's patched up with it, it won't show +very much." + +"It will do very well," Pao-yue said. "Could one also go and hunt up a +Russian tailor?" + +Ch'ing Wen commenced by unstitching the lining, and, inserting under it, +a bamboo bow, of the size of the mouth of a tea cup, she bound it tight +at the back. She then turned her mind to the four sides of the aperture, +and these she loosened by scratching them with a golden knife. Making +next two stitches across with her needle, she marked out the warp and +woof; and, following the way the threads were joined, she first and +foremost connected the foundation, and then keeping to the original +lines, she went backwards and forwards mending the hole; passing her +work, after every second stitch, under further review. But she did not +ply her needle three to five times, before she lay herself down on her +pillow, and indulged in a little rest. + +Pao-yue was standing by her side. Now he inquired of her: "Whether she +would like a little hot water to drink." Later on, he asked her to +repose herself. Now he seized a grey-squirrel wrapper and threw it over +her shoulders. Shortly after, he took a pillow and propped her up. (The +way he fussed) so exasperated Ch'ing Wen that she begged and entreated +him to leave off. + +"My junior ancestor!" she exclaimed, "do go to bed and sleep! If you sit +up for the other half of the night, your eyes will to-morrow look as if +they had been scooped out, and what good will possibly come out of +that?" + +Pao-yue realised her state of exasperation and felt compelled to come and +lie down anyhow. But he could not again close his eyes. + +In a little while, she heard the clock strike four, and just managing to +finish she took a small tooth-brush, and rubbed up the pile. + +"That will do!" She Yueeh put in. "One couldn't detect it, unless one +examined it carefully." + +Pao-yue asked with alacrity to be allowed to have a look at it. "Really," +he smiled, "it's quite the same thing." + +Ch'ing Wen coughed and coughed time after time, so it was only after +extreme difficulty that she succeeded in completing what she had to +patch. "It's mended, it's true," she remarked, "but it does not, after +all, look anything like it. Yet, I cannot stand the effort any more!" + +As she shouted 'Ai-ya,' she lost control over herself, and dropped down +upon the bed. + +But, reader, if you choose to know anything more of her state, peruse +the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + + In the Ning Kuo mansion sacrifices are offered to their ancestors on + the last night of the year. + In the Jung Kuo mansion, a banquet is given on the evening of the 15th + of the first moon. + + +But to resume our story. When Pao-yue saw that Ch'ing Wen had in her +attempt to finish mending the peacock-down cloak exhausted her strength +and fatigued herself, he hastily bade a young maid help him massage her; +and setting to work they tapped her for a while, after which, they +retired to rest. But not much time elapsed before broad daylight set in. +He did not however go out of doors, but simply called out that they +should go at once and ask the doctor round. + +Presently, Dr. Wang arrived. After feeling her pulse, his suspicions +were aroused. "Yesterday," he said, "she was much better, so how is it +that to-day she is instead weaker, and has fallen off so much? She must +surely have had too much in the way of drinking or eating! Or she must +have fatigued herself. A complaint arising from outside sources is, +indeed, a light thing. But it's no small matter if one doesn't take +proper care of one's self, as she has done after perspiring." + +As he passed these remarks, he walked out of the apartment, and, writing +a prescription, he entered again. + +When Pao-yue came to examine it, he perceived that he had eliminated the +laxatives, and all the drugs, whose properties were to expel noxious +influences, but added pachyma cocos, rhubarb, arolia edulis, and other +such medicines, which could stimulate the system and strengthen her +physique. + +Pao-yue, on one hand, hastened to direct a servant to go and decoct them, +and, on the other, he heaved a sigh. "What's to be done?" he exclaimed. +"Should anything happen to her, it will all be through the evil +consequences of my shortcomings!" + +"Hai!" cried Ch'ing Wen, from where she was reclining on her pillow. +"Dear Mr. Secundus, go and mind your own business! Have I got such a +dreadful disease?" + +Pao-yue had no alternative but to get out of the way. But in the +afternoon, he gave out that he was not feeling up to the mark, and +hurried back to her side again. + +The symptoms of Ch'ing Wen's illness were, it is true, grave; yet +fortunately for her she had ever had to strain her physical strength, +and not to tax the energies of her mind. Furthermore, she had always +been frugal in her diet, so that she had never sustained any harm from +under or over-eating. The custom in the Chia mansion was that as soon as +any one, irrespective of masters or servants, contracted the slightest +chill or cough, quiet and starving should invariably be the main things +observed, the treatment by medicines occupying only a secondary place. +Hence it was that when the other day she unawares felt unwell, she at +once abstained from food during two or three days, while she carefully +also nursed herself by taking proper medicines. And although she +recently taxed her strength a little too much, she gradually succeeded, +by attending with extra care to her health for another few days, in +bringing about her complete recovery. + +Of late, his female cousins, who lived in the garden, had been having +their meals in their rooms, so with the extreme convenience of having a +fire to prepare drinks and eatables, Pao-yue himself was able, needless +for us to go into details, to ask for soups and order broths for (Ch'ing +Wen), with which to recoup her health. + +Hsi Jen returned soon after she had followed the funeral of her mother. +She Yueeh then minutely told Hsi Jen all about Chui Erh's affair, about +Ch'ing Wen having sent her off, and about Pao-yue having been already +informed of the fact, and so forth, yet to all this Hsi Jen made no +further comment than: "what a very hasty disposition (that girl Ch'ing +Wen has!)." + +But consequent upon Li Wan being likewise laid up with a cold, she got +through the inclemency of the weather; Madame Hsing suffering so much +from sore eyes that Ying Ch'un and Chou-yen had to go morning and +evening and wait on her, while she used such medicines as she had; Li +Wan's brother, having also taken her sister-in-law Li, together with Li +Wen and Li Ch'i, to spend a few days at his home, and Pao-yue seeing, on +one hand, Hsi Jen brood without intermission over the memory of her +mother, and give way to secret grief, and Ch'ing Wen, on the other, +continue not quite convalescent, there was no one to turn any attention +to such things as poetical meetings, with the result that several +occasions, on which they were to have assembled, were passed over +without anything being done. By this time, the twelfth moon arrived. The +end of the year was nigh at hand, so Madame Wang and lady Feng were +engaged in making the necessary annual preparations. But, without +alluding to Wang Tzu-t'eng, who was promoted to be Lord High +Commissioner of the Nine Provinces; Chia Yue-ts'un, who filled up the +post of Chief Inspector of Cavalry, Assistant Grand Councillor, and +Commissioner of Affairs of State, we will resume our narrative with Chia +Chen, in the other part of the establishment. After having the Ancestral +Hall thrown open, he gave orders to the domestics to sweep the place, to +get ready the various articles, and bring over the ancestral tablets. +Then he had the upper rooms cleaned, so as to be ready to receive the +various images that were to be hung about. In the two mansions of Ning +and Jung, inside as well as outside, above as well as below, everything +was, therefore, bustle and confusion. As soon as Mrs. Yu, of the Ning +mansion, put her foot out of bed on this day, she set to work, with the +assistance of Chia Jung's wife, to prepare such needlework and presents +as had to be sent over to dowager lady Chia's portion of the +establishment, when it so happened that a servant-girl broke in upon +them with a tea-tray in hand, containing ingots of silver of the kind +given the evening before new year. + +"Hsing Erh," she said, "informs your ladyship that the pieces of gold in +that bundle of the other day amount in all to one hundred and +fifty-three taels, one mace and seven candareens; and that the ingots of +pure metal and those not, contained in here, number all together two +hundred and twenty." + +With these words, she presented the tray. Mrs. Yu passed the ingots +under survey. She found some resembling plum-blossom; others peonies. +Among them were some with pens and 'as you like,' (importing "your +wishes are bound to be fulfilled);" and others representing the eight +precious things linked together, for use in spring-time. + +Mrs. Yu directed that the silver ingots should be made up into a parcel, +and then she bade Hsing Erh take them and deliver them immediately +inside. + +The servant-girl signified her obedience, and went away. But shortly +Chia Chen arrived for his meal, and Chia Jung's wife withdrew. + +"Have we received," thereupon inquired Chia Chen, "the bounty conferred +(by His Majesty) for our spring sacrifices or not?" + +"I've sent Jung Erh to-day to go and receive it," Mrs. Yu rejoined. + +"Albeit," continued Chia Chen, "our family can well do without those +paltry taels, yet they are, whatever their amount may be, an imperial +gift to us so take them over as soon as you can, and send them to our +old lady, on the other side, to get ready the sacrifices to our +ancestors. Above, we shall then receive the Emperor's bounty; below, we +shall enjoy the goodwill of our progenitors. For no matter if we went so +far as to spend ten thousand ounces of silver to present offerings to +our forefathers with, they could not, in the long run, come up this gift +in high repute. Added to this, we shall be the participators of grace +and the recipients of blessings. Putting one or two households such as +our own aside, what resources would those poverty-stricken families of +hereditary officials have at their command wherewith to offer their +sacrifices and celebrate the new year, if they could not rely upon this +money? In very truth, therefore, the imperial favour is vast, and +allproviding!" + +"Your arguments are quite correct!" Mrs. Yu ventured. + +But while these two were indulging in this colloquy, they caught sight +of a messenger, who came and announced: "Our young master has arrived." + +Chia Chen accordingly enjoined that he should be told to enter; +whereupon they saw Chia Jung step into the room and present with both +hands a small bag made of yellow cloth. + +"How is it you've been away the whole day?" Chia Chen asked. + +Chia Jung strained a smile. "I didn't receive the money to-day from the +Board of Rites," he replied. "The issue was again made at the treasury +of the Kuang Lu temple; so I had once more to trudge away to the Kuang +Lu temple before I could get it. The various officials in the Kuang Lu +temple bade me present their compliments to you, father. (They asked me +to tell you) that they had not seen you for many days, and that they are +really longing for your company." + +"What an idea! Do they care to see me?" Chia Chen laughed. "Why, here's +the end of the year drawing nigh again; so if they don't hanker after my +presents, they must long and crave for my entertainments." + +While he spoke his eye espied a slip of paper affixed to the yellow +cloth bag, bearing the four large characters, 'the imperial favour is +everlasting.' On the other side figured also a row of small characters +with the seal of the Director of Ancestral Worship in the Board of +Rites. These testified that the enclosed consisted of two shares, +conferred upon the Ning Kuo duke, Chia Yen, and the Jung Kuo duke, Chia +Fa, as a bounty (from the Emperor), for sacrifices to them every spring +in perpetuity, (and gave) the number of taels, computed in pure silver, +and the year, moon and day, on which they were received in open hall by +Chia Jung, Controller in the Imperial Prohibited City and Expectant +Officer of the Guards. The signature of the official in charge of the +temple for that year was appended below in purple ink. + +After Chia Chen had perused the inscription, he finished his meal, +rinsed his mouth and washed his hands. This over, he changed his shoes +and hat, and bidding Chia Jung follow him along with the money, he went +and informed dowager lady Chia and Madame Wang (of the receipt of the +imperial bounty), and repairing back to the near side, he communicated +the fact to Chia She and Madame Hsing; after which, he, at length, +betook himself to his quarters. He then emptied the money and gave +orders that the bag should be taken and burnt in the large censer in the +Ancestral Hall. + +"Go and ask your aunt Tertia, yonder," he further enjoined Chia Jung, +"whether the day on which the new year wine is to be drunk has been +fixed or not? If it has been determined upon, timely notice should be +given in the library to draw out a proper list in order that when we +again issue our invitations, there should be no chance of two +entertainments coming off on the same day. Last year, not sufficient +care was exercised, and several persons were invited to both mansions on +the very same occasion. And people didn't say that we hadn't been +careful enough, but that, as far as appearances went, the two households +had made up their minds among themselves to show an empty attention, +prompted by the fear of trouble." + +Chia Jung immediately replied that he would attend to his injunctions, +and not much time elapsed before he brought a list mentioning the days +on which the inmates were to be invited to partake of the new year wine. + +Chia Chen examined it. "Go," he then said, "and give it to Lai Sheng so +that he may see its contents and invite the guests. But mind he doesn't +fix anything else for the dates specified in here." + +But while watching from the pavilion the servant-boys carrying the +enclosing screens and rubbing the tables and the gold and silver +sacrificial utensils, he perceived a lad appear on the scene holding a +petition and a list, and report that 'Wu, the head-farmer in the Hei +Shan village, had arrived.' "What does this old executioner come for +to-day?" Chia Chen exclaimed. + +Chia Jung took the petition and the list, and, unfolding them with all +despatch, he held them up (to his father). Chia Chen however glanced at +the papers, as they were held by Chia Jung, keeping the while both hands +behind his back. The petition on red paper ran as follows: "Your +servant, the head farmer, Wu Chin-hsiao, prostrates himself before his +master and mistress and wishes them every kind of happiness and good +health, as well as good health to their worthy scion and daughter. May +great joy, great blessings, brilliant honours and peace be their share +in this spring, which is about to dawn! May official promotion and +increase of emoluments be their lot! May they see in everything the +accomplishment of their wishes." + +Chia Chen smiled. "For a farmer," he remarked, "it has several good +points!" + +"Pay no heed to the style," urged Chia Jung, also smiling; "but to the +good wishes." + +Saying this, he speedily opened the list. The articles mentioned were, +on examination, found to consist of: "Thirty big deer; five thousand +musk deer; fifty roebuck deer; twenty Siamese pigs; twenty boiled pigs; +twenty 'dragon' pigs; twenty wild pigs; twenty home-salted pigs; twenty +wild sheep; twenty grey sheep; twenty home-boiled sheep; twenty +home-dried sheep; two hundred sturgeon; two hundred catties of mixed +fish; live chickens, ducks and geese, two hundred of each; two hundred +dried chickens, ducks and geese; two hundred pair of pheasants and +hares; two hundred pair of bears' paws; twenty catties of deer tendons; +fifty catties of beche-de-mer; fifty deer tongues; fifty ox tongues; +twenty catties of dried clams; filberts, fir-cones, peaches, apricots +and squash, two hundred bags of each; fifty pair of salt prawns; two +hundred catties of dried shrimps; a thousand catties of superfine, +picked charcoal; two thousand catties of medium charcoal; twenty +thousand catties of common charcoal; two piculs of red rice, grown in +the imperial grounds; fifty bushels of greenish, glutinous rice; fifty +bushels of white glutinous rice; fifty bushels of pounded non-glutinous +rice; fifty bushels of various kinds of corn and millet; a thousand +piculs of ordinary common rice. Exclusive of a cartload of every sort of +vegetables, and irrespective of two thousand five hundred taels, derived +from the sale of corn and millet and every kind of domestic animals, +your servant respectfully presents, for your honour's delectation, two +pair of live deer, four pair of white rabbits, four pair of black +rabbits, two pair of live variegated fowls, and two pair of duck, from +western countries." + +When Chia Chen had exhausted the list, "Bring him in!" he cried. In a +little time, he perceived Wu Chin-hsiao make his appearance inside. But +simply halting in the court, he bumped his head on the ground and paid +his respects. + +Chia Chen desired a servant to raise him up. "You're still so hale!" he +smiled. + +"I don't deceive you, Sir," Wu Chin-hsiao observed, "when I say that +yours servants are so accustomed to walking, that had we not come, we +wouldn't have felt exceedingly dull. Isn't the whole crowd of them keen +upon coming to see what the world is like at the feet of the son of +heaven? Yet they're, after all, so young in years, that there's the fear +of their going astray on the way. But, in a few more years, I shall be +able to appease my solicitude on their account." + +"How many days have you been on the way?" Chia Chen inquired. + +"To reply to your question, Sir," Wu Chin-hsiao ventured, "so much snow +has fallen this year that it's everywhere out of town four and five feet +in depth. The other day, the weather suddenly turned mild, and with the +thaw that set in, it became so very hard to make any progress that we +wasted several days. Yet albeit we've been a month and two days in +accomplishing the journey; it isn't anything excessive. But as I feared +lest you, Sir, would be giving way to anxiety, didn't I hurry along to +arrive in good time?" + +"How is it, I said, that he's come only to-day!" Chia Chen observed. + +"But upon looking over the list just now it seemed to me that you, old +fossil, had come again to make as much as fun of me, as if you were +putting up a stage for a boxing-match." + +Wu Chin-hsiao hastily drew near a couple of steps. "I must tell you, +Sir," he remarked, "that the harvest this year hasn't really been good. +Rain set in ever since the third moon, and there it went on incessantly +straight up to the eighth moon. Indeed, the weather hasn't kept fine for +five or six consecutive days. In the ninth moon, there came a storm of +hail, each stone of which was about the size of a saucer. And over an +area of the neighbouring two or three hundred li, the men and houses, +animals and crops, which sustained injury, numbered over thousands and +ten thousands. Hence it is that the things we've brought now are what +they are. Your servant would not have the audacity to tell a lie." + +Chia Chen knitted his eyebrows. "I had computed," he said, "that the +very least you would have brought would have been five thousand taels. +What's this enough for? There are only now eight or nine of you farmers, +and from two localities reports have contrariwise reached us during the +course of this very year of the occurrence of droughts; and do you +people come again to try your larks with us? Why, verily these aren't +sufficient to see the new year in with." + +"And yet," Wu Chin-hsiao argued, "your place can be looked upon as +having fared well; for my brother, who's only over a hundred li away +from where I am, has actually fallen in with a vastly different lot! He +has at present eight farms of that mansion under his control, and these +considerably larger than those of yours, Sir; and yet this year they too +have only produced but a few things. So nothing beyond two or three +thousand taels has been realised. What's more, they've had to borrow +money." + +"Quite so!" Chia Chen exclaimed. "The state of things in my place here +is passable. I've got no outside outlay. The main thing I have to mind +is to make provision for a year's necessary expenses. If I launch out +into luxuries, I have to suffer hardships, so I must try a little +self-denial and manage to save something. It's the custom, besides, at +the end of the year to send presents to people and invite others; but +I'll thicken the skin of my face a bit, (and dispense with both), and +have done. I'm not like the inmates in that mansion, who have, during +the last few years, added so many items of expenditure, that it's, of +course, a matter of impossibility for them to avoid loosening their +purse strings. But they haven't, on the other hand, made any addition to +their funds and landed property. During the course of the past year or +two, they've had to make up many deficits. And if they don't appeal to +you, to whom can they go?" + +Wu Chin-hsiao laughed. "It's true," he said, "that in that mansion many +items have been added, but money goes out and money comes in. And won't +the Empress and His Majesty the Emperor bestow their favour?" + +At these words, Chia Chen smilingly faced Chia Jung and the other +inmates. "Just you listen to his arguments!" he exclaimed. "Aren't they +ridiculous, eh?" + +Chia Jung and the rest promptly smiled. "Among your hills and seaboard +can anything," they observed, "be known with regard to this principle? +Is it likely, pray, that the Empress will ever make over to us the +Emperor's treasury? Why, even supposing she may at heart entertain any +such wish, she herself cannot possibly adopt independent action. Of +course, she does confer her benefits on them, but this is at stated +times and fixed periods, and they merely consist of a few coloured +satins, antiquities, and bric-a-brac. In fact, when she does bestow hard +cash on them, it doesn't exceed a hundred ounces of silver. But did she +even give them so much as a thousand and more taels, what would these +suffice for? During which of the two last years have they not had to +fork out several thousands of taels? In the first year, the imperial +consort paid a visit to her parents; and just calculate how much they +must have run through in laying out that park, and you'll then know how +they stand! Why, if in another couple of years, the Empress comes and +pays them a second visit, they'll be, I'm inclined to fancy, regular +paupers." + +"That's why," urged Chia Chen smiling, "country people are such +unsophisticated creatures, that though they behold what lies on the +surface, they have no idea of what is inside hidden from view. They're +just like a piece of yellow cedar made into a mallet for beating the +sonorous stones with. The exterior looks well enough; but it's all +bitter inside." + +"In very truth," Chia Jung added, laughing also the while, as he +addressed himself to Chia Chen, "that mansion is impoverished. The other +day, I heard a consultation held on the sly between aunt Secunda and +Yuean Yang. What they wanted was to filch our worthy senior's things and +go and pawn them in order to raise money." + +"This is just another devilish trick of that minx Feng!" Chia Chen +smiled. "How ever could they have reached such straits? She's certain to +have seen that expenses were great, and that heavy deficits had to be +squared, so wishing again to curtail some item or other, who knows +which, she devised this plan as a preparatory step, in order that when +it came to be generally known, people should say that they had been +reduced to such poverty. But from the result of the calculations I have +arrived at in my mind, things haven't as yet attained this climax:" + +Continuing, he issued orders to a servant to take Wu Chin-hsiao outside, +and to treat him with every consideration. But no further mention need +be made of him. + +During this while, Chia Chen gave directions to keep from the various +perquisites just received such as would prove serviceable for the +sacrifices to their ancestors, and, selecting a few things of each kind, +he told Chia Jung to have them taken to the Jung mansion. After this, he +himself kept what was required for his own use at home; and then +allotting the rest, with due compliance to gradation, he had share after +share piled up at the foot of the moon-shaped platform, and sending +servants to summon the young men of the clan, he distributed them among +them. + +In quick succession, numerous contributions for the ancestral sacrifices +were likewise sent from the Jung mansion; also presents for Chia Chen. +Chia Chen inspected the things, and having them removed, he completed +preparing the sacrificial utensils. Then putting on a pair of slip-shod +shoes and throwing over his shoulders a long pelisse with 'She-li-sun' +fur, he bade the servants spread a large wolf-skin rug in a sunny place +on the stone steps below the pillars of the pavilion, and with his back +to the warm sun, he leisurely watched the young people come and receive +the new year gifts. Perceiving that Chia Ch'in had also come to fetch +his share, Chia Chen called him over. "How is it that you've come too?" +he asked. "Who told you to come?" + +Chia Ch'in respectfully dropped his arms against his sides. "I heard," +he replied, "that you, senior Sir, had sent for us to appear before you +here and receive our presents; so I didn't wait for the servants to go +and tell me, but came straightway." + +"These things," Chia Chen added, "are intended for distribution among +all those uncles and cousins who have nothing to do and who enjoy no +source of income. Those two years you had no work, I gave you plenty of +things too. But you're entrusted at present with some charge in the +other mansion, and you exercise in the family temples control over the +bonzes and taoist priests, so that you as well derive every month your +share of an allowance. Irrespective of that, the allowances and money of +the Buddhist priests pass through your hands. And do you still come to +fetch things of this kind? You're far too greedy. Just you look at the +fineries you wear. Why, they look like the habiliments of one who has +money to spend, of a regular man of business. You said some time back +that you had nothing which could bring you in any money, but how is it +that you've got none again now? You really don't look as if you were in +the same plight that you were in once upon a time." + +"I have in my home a goodly number of inmates," Chia Ch'in explained, +"so my expenses are great." + +Chia Chen gave a saturnine laugh. "Are you trying again to excuse +yourself with me?" he cried. "Do you flatter yourself that I have no +idea of your doings in the family temples? When you get there, you, of +course, play the grand personnage and no one has the courage to run +counter to your wishes. Then you've also got the handling of money. +Besides you're far away from us, so you're arrogant and audacious. Night +after night, you get bad characters together; you gamble for money; and +you keep women and young boys. And though you now fling away money with +such a high hand, do you still presume to come and receive gifts? But as +you can't manage to filch anything to take along with you, it will do +you good to get beans, with the pole used for carrying water. Wait until +the new year is over, and then I'll certainly report you to your uncle +Secundus." + +Chia Ch'in got crimson in the face, and did not venture to utter a +single word by way of extenuation. A servant, however, then announced +that the Prince from the Pei mansion had sent a pair of scrolls and a +purse. + +At this announcement, Chia Chen immediately told Chia Jung to go out and +entertain the messengers. "And just say," he added, "that I'm not at +home." + +Chia Jung went on his way. Chia Chen, meanwhile, dismissed Chia Ch'in; +and, seeing the things taken away, he returned to his quarters and +finished his evening meal with Mrs. Yu. But nothing of any note occurred +during that night. + +The next day, he had, needless to say, still more things to give his +mind to. Soon arrived the twenty ninth day of the twelfth moon, and +everything was in perfect readiness. In the two mansions alike, the gate +guardian gods and scrolls were renovated. The hanging tablets were newly +varnished. The peach charms glistened like new. In the Ning Kuo mansion, +every principal door, starting from the main entrance, the ceremonial +gates, the doors of the large pavilions, of the winter apartments, and +inner pavilions, the inner three gates, the inner ceremonial gates and +the inner boundary gates, straight up to the doors of the main halls, +was flung wide open. At the bottom of the steps, were placed on either +side large and lofty vermilion candles, of uniform colour; which when +lit presented the appearance of a pair of golden dragons. + +On the morrow, dowager lady Chia and those with any official status, +donned the court dress consistent with their grade, and taking first and +foremost a retinue of inmates with them, they entered the palace in +eight bearer state chairs, and presented their congratulations. After +acquitting themselves of the ceremonial rites, and partaking of a +banquet, they betook themselves back, and alighted from their chairs on +their arrival at the winter hall of the Ning mansion. The young men, who +had not followed the party to court, waited, arranged in their proper +order, in front of the entrance the King mansion, and subsequently led +the way into the ancestral temple. + +But to return to Pao-ch'in. This was the first occasion, on which she +put her foot inside to look at the inner precincts of the Chia ancestral +temple, and as she did so, she scrutinized with minute attention all the +details that met her gaze in the halls dedicated to their forefathers. +These consisted, in fact, of a distinct courtyard on the west side of +the Ning mansion. Within the balustrade, painted black, stood five +apartments. Over the main entrance to these was suspended a flat tablet +with the inscription in four characters: 'Ancestral hall of the Chia +family.' On the side of these was recorded the fact that it had been the +handiwork of Wang Hsi-feng, specially promoted to the rank of Grand +Tutor of the Heir Apparent, and formerly Chancellor of the Imperial +Academy. On either side, was one of a pair of scrolls, bearing the +motto: + + Besmear the earth with your liver and brains, all ye people, out of + gratitude for the bounty of (the Emperor's) protection! + The reputation (of the Chia family) reaches the very skies. Hundred + generations rejoice in the splendour of the sacrifices accorded + them. + +This too had been executed by Wang, the Grand Tutor. + +As soon as the court was entered, a raised road was reached, paved with +white marble, on both sides of which were planted deep green fir trees, +and kingfisher-green cypress trees. On the moon-shaped platform were +laid out antiquities, tripods, libation-vases, and other similar +articles. In front of the antechamber was hung a gold-coloured flat +tablet, with nine dragons, and the device: + + Like a dazzling star is the statesman, who assists the Emperor. + +This was the autograph of a former Emperor. + +On both sides figured a pair of antithetical scrolls, with the motto: + + Their honours equal the sun and moon in lustre. + Their fame is without bounds. It descends to their sons and grandsons. + +These lines were likewise from the imperial pencil. Over the five-roomed +main hall was suspended a tablet, inlaid with green, representing +wriggling dragons. The sentiments consisted of: + + Mindful of the remotest and heedful of the most distant ancestors. + +A pair of antithetical scrolls was hung on the sides; on which was +written: + + After their death, their sons and grandsons enjoy their beneficent + virtues. + Up to the very present the masses think of the Jung and Ning families. + +Both these mottoes owed their origin to the imperial pencil. + +Inside, lanterns and candles burnt with resplendent brightness. +Embroidered curtains and decorated screens were hung in such profusion +that though a large number of ancestral tablets were placed about they +could not be clearly discerned. The main thing that struck the eye was +the inmates of the Chia mansion standing about, on the left and right, +disposed in their proper order. Chia Ching was overseer of the +sacrifices. Chia She played the part of assistant. Chia Chen presented +the cups for libations. Chia Lien and Chia Tsung offered up the strips +of paper. Pao-yue held the incense. Chia Ch'ang and Chia Ling distributed +the hassocks and looked after the receptacles for the ashes of +joss-sticks. The black clad musicians discoursed music. The +libation-cups were offered thrice in sacrifice. These devotions over, +paper money was burnt; and libations of wine were poured. After the +observance of the prescribed rites, the band stopped, and withdrew. The +whole company then pressed round dowager lady Chia, and repaired to the +main hall, where the images were placed. The embroidered curtains were +hung high up. The variegated screens shut in the place from view. The +fragrant candles burnt with splendour. In the place of honour, of the +main apartment, were suspended the portraits of two progenitors of the +Ning and Jung, both of whom were attired in costumes, ornamented with +dragons, and clasped with belts of jade. On the right and left of them, +were also arrayed the likenesses of a number of eminent ancestors. + +Chia Heng, Chia Chih and the others of the same status stood according +to their proper grades in a row extending from the inner ceremonial gate +straight up to the verandah of the main hall. Outside the balustrade +came at last Chia Ching and Chia She. Inside the balustrade figured the +various female members of the family. The domestics and pages were +arrayed beyond the ceremonial gate. As each set of eatables arrived, +they transmitted them as far as the ceremonial gate, where Chia Heng, +Chia Chih and his companions were ready to receive them. From one to +another, they afterwards reached the bottom of the steps and found their +way into Chia Ching's hands. + +Chia Jung, being the eldest grandson of the senior branch, was the only +person, who penetrated within the precincts of the balustrade reserved +for the female inmates. So whenever Chia Ching had any offerings to pass +on, he delivered them to Chia Jung, and Chia Jung gave them to his wife; +who again handed them to lady Feng, Mrs. Yu, and the several ladies. And +when these offerings reached the sacrificial altar, they were at length +surrendered to Madame Wang. Madame Wang thereupon placed them in dowager +lady Chia's hands, and old lady Chia deposited them on the altar. + +Madame Hsing stood on the west-east side of the sacrificial altar, and +along with old lady Chia, she offered the oblations and laid them in +their proper places. After the vegetables, rice, soup, sweets, wine and +tea had been handed up, Chia Jung eventually retired outside and resumed +his position above Chia Ch'in. + +Of the male inmates, whose names were composed with the radical 'wen,' +'literature,' Chia Ching was at the time the head. Below followed those +with the radical 'Yue,' 'gem,' led by Chia Chen. Next to these, came the +inmates with the radical 'ts'ao,' 'grass,' headed by Chia Jung. These +were arranged in proper order, with due regard to left and right. The +men figured on the east; the women on the west. + +When dowager lady Chia picked up a joss-stick and prostrated herself to +perform her devotions, one and all fell simultaneously on their knees, +packing up the five-roomed principal pavilion, the inside as well as +outside of the three antechambers, the verandahs, the top and bottom of +the stairs, the interior of the two vermilion avenues so closely with +all their fineries and embroideries that not the slightest space +remained vacant among them. Not so much as the caw of a crow struck the +ear. All that was audible was the report of jingling and tinkling, and +the sound of the gold bells and jade ornaments slightly rocked to and +fro. Besides these, the creaking noise made by the shoes of the inmates, +while getting up and kneeling down. + +In a little time, the ceremonies were brought to a close. Chia Ching, +Chia She and the rest hastily retired and adjourned to the Jung mansion, +where they waited with the special purpose of paying their obeisance to +dowager lady Chia. + +Mrs. Yu's drawing rooms were entirely covered with red carpets. In the +centre stood a large gold cloisonne brasier, with three legs, in +imitation of rhinoceros tusks, washed with gold. On the stove-couch in +the upper part was laid a new small red hair rug. On it were placed deep +red back-cushions with embroidered representations of dragons, which +were embedded among clouds and clasped the character longevity, as well +as reclining-pillows and sitting-rugs. Covers made of black fox skin +were moreover thrown over the couch, along with skins of pure white fox +for sitting-cushions. + +Dowager lady Chia was invited to place herself on the couch; and on the +skin-rugs spread, on either side, two or three of the sisters-in-law, of +the same standing as old lady Chia, were urged to sit down. + +After the necessary arrangements had been concluded, skin rugs were also +put on the small couch, erected in a horizontal position on the near +portion of the apartments, and Madame Hsing and the other ladies of her +age were motioned to seat themselves. On the two sides stood, face to +face on the floor, twelve chairs carved and lacquered, over which were +thrown antimacassars and small grey-squirrel rugs, of uniform colour. At +the foot of each chair was a large copper foot-stove. On these chairs, +Pao-ch'in and the other young ladies were asked to sit down. + +Mrs. Yu took a tray and with her own hands she presented tea to old lady +Chia. Chia Jung's wife served the rest of their seniors. Subsequently, +Mrs. Yu helped Madame Hsing too and her contemporaries; and Chia Jung's +wife then gave tea to the various young ladies; while lady Feng, Li Wan +and a few others simply remained below, ready to minister to their +wants. After their tea, Madame Hsing and her compeers were the first to +rise and come and wait on dowager lady Chia, while she had hers. Dowager +lady Chia chatted for a time with her old sisters-in-law and then +desired the servants to look to her chair. + +Lady Feng thereupon speedily walked up and supported her to rise to her +feet. + +"The evening meal has long ago been got ready for you, venerable +ancestor," Mrs. Yu smiled. "You've year by year shown no desire to +honour us with your presence, but tarry a bit on this occasion and +partake of some refreshment before you cross over. Is it likely, in +fact, that we can't come up to that girl Feng?" + +"Go on, worthy senior!" laughed lady Feng, as she propped old lady Chia. +"Let's go home and eat our own. Don't heed what she says!" + +"In what bustle and confusion aren't you in over here," smiled dowager +lady Chia, "with all the sacrifices to our ancestors, and how could you +stand all the trouble I'm putting you to? I've never, furthermore, had +every year anything to eat with you; but you've always been in the way +of sending me things. So isn't it as well that you should again let me +have a few? And as I'll keep for the next day what I shan't be able to +get through, won't I thus have a good deal more?" + +This remark evoked general laughter. + +"Whatever you do," she went on to enjoin her, "mind you depute some +reliable persons to sit up at night and look after the incense fires; +but they mustn't let their wits go wool-gathering." + +Mrs. Yu gave her to understand that she would see to it, and they +sallied out, at the same time, into the fore part of the +winter-apartments. And when Mrs. Yu and her friends went past the +screen, the pages introduced the bearers, who shouldered the sedan and +walked out by the main entrance. Then following too in the track of +Madame Hsing and the other ladies, Mrs. Yu repaired in their company +into the Jung mansion. + +(Dowager lady Chia's) chair had, meanwhile, got beyond the principal +gateway. Here again were deployed, on the east side of the street, the +bearers of insignia, the retinue and musicians of the duke of Ning Kuo. +They crammed the whole extent of the street. Comers and goers were alike +kept back. No thoroughfare was allowed. Shortly, the Jung mansion was +reached. The large gates and main entrances were also thrown open +straight up to the very interior of the compound. On the present +occasion, however, the bearers did not put the chair down by the winter +quarters, but passing the main hall, and turning to the west, they +rested it on their arrival at the near side of dowager lady Chia's +principal pavilion. The various attendants pressed round old lady Chia +and followed her into her main apartment, where decorated mats and +embroidered screens had also been placed about, and everything looked as +if brand-new. + +In the brasier, deposited in the centre of the room, burnt fir and cedar +incense, and a hundred mixed herbs. The moment dowager lady Chia +ensconced herself into a seat, an old nurse entered and announced that: +"the senior ladies had come to pay their respects." + +Old lady Chia rose with alacrity to her feet to go and greet them, when +she perceived that two or three of her old sisters-in-law had already +stepped inside, so clasping each other's hands, they now laughed, and +now they pressed each other to sit down. After tea, they took their +departure; but dowager lady Chia only escorted them as far as the inner +ceremonial gate, and retracing her footsteps, she came and resumed the +place of honour. Chia Ching, Chia She and the other seniors then ushered +the various junior male members of the household into her apartments. + +"I put you," smiled old lady Chia, "to ever so much trouble and +inconvenience from one year's end to another; so don't pay any +obeisance." + +But while she spoke, the men formed themselves into one company, and the +women into another, and performed their homage, group by group. This +over, arm-chairs were arranged on the left and on the right; and on +these chairs they too subsequently seated themselves, according to their +seniority and gradation, to receive salutations. The men and women +servants, and the pages and maids employed in the two mansions then +paid, in like manner, the obeisance consonant with their positions, +whether high, middle or low; and this ceremony observed, the new year +money was distributed, together with purses, gold and silver ingots, and +other presents of the same description. A 'rejoicing together' banquet +was spread. The men sat on the east; the women on the west. 'T'u Su,' +new year's day, wine was served; also 'rejoicing together' soup, +'propitious' fruits, and 'as you like' cakes. At the close of the +banquet, dowager lady Chia rose and penetrated into the inner chamber +with the purpose of effecting a change in her costume, so the several +inmates present could at last disperse and go their own way. + +That night, incense was burnt and offerings presented at the various +altars to Buddha and the kitchen god. In the courtyard of Madame Wang's +main quarters paper horses and incense for sacrifices to heaven and +earth were all ready. At the principal entrance of the garden of Broad +Vista were suspended horn lanterns, which from their lofty places cast +their bright rays on either side. Every place was hung with street +lanterns. Every inmate, whether high or low, was got up in gala dress. +Throughout the whole night, human voices resounded confusedly. The din +of talking and laughing filled the air. Strings of crackers and rockets +were let off incessantly. + +The morrow came. At the fifth watch, dowager lady Chia and the other +senior members of the family donned the grand costumes, which accorded +with their status, and with a complete retinue they entered the palace +to present their court congratulations; for that day was, in addition, +the anniversary of Yuean Ch'un's birth. After they had regaled themselves +at a collation, they wended their way back, and betaking themselves also +into the Ning mansion, they offered their oblations to their ancestors, +and then returned home and received the conventional salutations, after +which they put off their fineries and retired to rest. + +None of the relatives and friends, who came to wish their compliments of +the season, were admitted into (old lady Chia's) presence, but simply +had a friendly chat with Mrs. Hsueeh and 'sister-in-law' Li, and studied +their own convenience. Or along with Pao-yue, Pao-ch'ai and the other +young ladies, they amused themselves by playing the game of war or +dominoes. + +Madame Wang and lady Feng had one day after another their hands full +with the invitations they had to issue for the new year wine. In the +halls and courts of the other side theatricals and banquets succeeded +each other and relations and friends dropped in in an incessant string. +Bustle reigned for seven or eight consecutive days, before things +settled down again. + +But presently the festival of the full moon of the first month drew +near, and both mansions, the Ning as well as the Jung, were everywhere +ornamented with lanterns and decorations. On the eleventh, Chia She +invited dowager lady Chia and the other inmates. On the next day, Chia +Chen also entertained his old senior and Madame Wang and lady Feng. But +for us to record on how many consecutive days invitations were extended +to them to go and, drink the new year wine, would be an impossible task. + +The fifteenth came. On this evening dowager lady Chia gave orders to +have several banqueting tables laid in the main reception hall, to +engage a company of young actors, to have every place illuminated with +flowered lanterns of various colours, and to assemble at a family +entertainment all the sons, nephews, nieces, grandchildren and +grandchildren's wives and other members of the two mansions of Ning and +Jung. As however Chia Ching did not habitually have any wine or take any +ordinary food, no one went to press him to come. + +On the seventeenth, he hastened, at the close of the ancestral +sacrifices, out of town to chasten himself. In fact, even during the few +days he spent at home, he merely frequented retired rooms and lonely +places, and did not take the least interest in any single concern. But +he need not detain us any further. + +As for Chia She, after he had received dowager lady Chia's presents, he +said good-bye and went away. But old lady Chia herself was perfectly +aware that she could not conveniently tarry any longer on this side so +she too followed his example and took her departure. + +When Chia She got home, he along with all the guests feasted his eyes on +the illuminations and drank wine with them, Music and singing deafened +the ear. Embroidered fineries were everywhere visible. For his way of +seeking amusement was unlike that customary in this portion of the +establishment. + +In dowager lady Chia's reception hall, ten tables were meanwhile +arranged. By each table was placed a teapoy. On these teapoys stood +censers and bottles; three things in all. (In the censers) was burnt +'Pai ho' palace incense, a gift from his Majesty the Emperor. But small +pots, about eight inches long, four to five inches broad and two or +three inches high, adorned with scenery in the shape of rockeries, were +also placed about. All of which contained fresh flowers. Small foreign +lacquer trays were likewise to be seen, laden with diminutive painted +tea-cups of antique ware. Transparent gauze screens with frames of +carved blackwood, ornamented with a fringe representing flowers and +giving the text of verses, figured too here and there. In different +kinds of small old vases were combined together the three friends of +winter (pine, bamboo and plum,) as well as 'jade-hall,' 'happiness and +honour,' and other fresh flowers. + +At the upper two tables sat 'sister-in-law' Li and Mrs. Hsueeh. On the +east was only laid a single table. But there as well were placed carved +screens, covered with dragons, and a short low-footed couch, with a full +assortment of back-cushions, reclining-cushions and skin-rugs. On the +couch stood a small teapoy, light and handy, of foreign lacquer, inlaid +with gold. On the teapoy were arrayed cups, bowls, foreign cloth napkins +and such things. But on it spectacle case was also conspicuous. + +Dowager lady Chia was reposing on the couch. At one time, she chatted +and laughed with the whole company; at another, she took up her +spectacles and looked at what was going on on the stage. + +"Make allowances," she said, "for my old age. My bones are quite sore; +so if I be a little out of order in my conduct bear with me, and let us +entertain each other while I remain in a recumbent position." +Continuing, she desired Hu Po to make herself comfortable on the couch, +and take a small club and tap her legs. No table stood below the couch, +but only a high teapoy. On it were a high stand with tassels, +flower-vases, incense-burners and other similar articles. But, a small, +high table, laden with cups and chopsticks, had besides been got ready. +At the table next to this, the four cousins, Pao-ch'in, Hsiang-yuen, +Tai-yue and Pao-yue were told to seat themselves. The various viands and +fruits that were brought in were first presented to dowager lady Chia +for inspection. If they took her fancy, she kept them at the small +table. But once tasted by her, they were again removed and placed on +their table. We could therefore safely say that none but the four +cousins sat along with their old grandmother. + +The seats occupied by Madame Hsing and Madame Wang were below. Lower +down came Mrs. Yu, Li Wan, lady Feng and Chia Jung's wife. On the west +sat Pao-ch'ai, Li Wen, Li Ch'i, Chou Yen, Ying Ch'un, and the other +cousins. On the large pillars, on either side, were suspended, in groups +of three and five, glass lanterns ornamented with fringes. In front of +each table stood a candlestick in the shape of drooping lotus leaves. +The candlesticks contained coloured candles. These lotus leaves were +provided with enamelled springs, of foreign make, so they could be +twisted outward, thus screening the rays of the lights and throwing them +(on the stage), enabling one to watch the plays with exceptional +distinctness. The window-frames and doors had all been removed. In every +place figured coloured fringes, and various kinds of court lanterns. +Inside and outside the verandahs, and under the roofs of the covered +passages, which stretched on either side, were hung lanterns of +sheep-horn, glass, embroidered gauze or silk, decorated or painted, of +satin or of paper. + +Round different tables sat Chia Chen, Chia Lien, Chia Huan, Chia Tsung, +Chia Jung, Chia Yuen, Chia Ch'in, Chia Ch'ang, Chia Ling and other male +inmates of the family. + +Dowager lady Chia had at an early hour likewise sent servants to invite +the male and female members of the whole clan. But those advanced in +years were not disposed to take part in any excitement. Some had no one +at the time to look after things; others too were detained by +ill-health; and much though these had every wish to be present, they +were not, after all, in a fit state to come. Some were so envious of +riches, and so ashamed of their poverty, that they entertained no desire +to avail themselves of the invitation. Others, what is more, fostered +such a dislike for, and stood in such awe of, lady Feng that they felt +bitter towards her and would not accept. Others again were timid and +shy, and so little accustomed to seeing people, that they could not +muster sufficient courage to come. Hence it was that despite the large +number of female relatives in the clan, none came but Chia Lan's mother, +nee Lou, who brought Chia Lan with her. In the way of men, there were +only Chia Ch'in, Chia Yuen, Chia Ch'ang and Chia Ling; the four of them +and no others. The managers, at present under lady Feng's control, were +however among those who accepted. But albeit there was not a complete +gathering of the inmates on this occasion, yet, for a small family +entertainment, sufficient animation characterised the proceedings. + +About this time, Lin Chih-hsiao's wife also made her appearance, with +half a dozen married women who carried three divan tables between them. +Each table was covered with a red woollen cloth, on which lay a lot of +cash, picked out clean and of equal size, and recently issued from the +mint. These were strung together with a deep-red cord. Each couple +carried a table, so there were in all three tables. + +Lin Chih-hsiao's wife directed that two tables should be placed below +the festive board, round which were seated Mrs. Hsueeh and +'sister-in-law' Li, and that one should be put at the foot of dowager +lady Chia's couch. + +"Place it in the middle!" old lady Chia exclaimed. "These women have +never known what good manners mean. Put the table down." Saying this, +she picked up the cash, and loosening the knots, she unstrung them and +piled them on the table. + +'The reunion in the western chamber' was just being sung. The play was +drawing to a close. They had reached a part where Yue Shu runs off at +night in high dudgeon, and Wen Pao jokingly cried out: "You go off with +your monkey up; but, as luck would have it, this is the very day of the +fifteenth of the first moon, and a family banquet is being given by the +old lady in the Jung Kuo mansion, so wait and I'll jump on this horse +and hurry in and ask for something to eat. I must look sharp!" The joke +made old lady Chia, and the rest of the company laugh. + +"What a dreadful, impish child!" Mrs. Hsueeh and the others exclaimed. +"Yet poor thing!" + +"This child is only just nine years of age," lady Feng interposed. + +"He has really made a clever hit!" dowager lady Chia laughed. "Tip him!" +she shouted. + +This shout over, three married women, who has previously got ready +several small wicker baskets, came up, as soon as they heard the word +'tip', and, taking the heaps of loose cash piled on the table, they each +filled a basket full, and, issuing outside, they approached the stage. +"Dowager lady Chia, Mrs. Hsueeh, and the family relative, Mrs. Li, +present Wen Pao this money to purchase something to eat with," they +said. + +At the end of these words, they flung the contents of the baskets upon +the stage. So all then that fell on the ear was the rattle of the cash +flying in every direction over the boards. + +Chia Chen and Chia Lien had, by this time, enjoined the pages to fetch +big baskets full of cash and have them in readiness. But as, reader, you +do not know as yet in what way these presents were given, listen to the +circumstances detailed in the subsequent chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + + Dowager lady Chia, nee Shih, does away with rotten old customs. + Wang Hsi-feng imitates in jest (the dutiful son), by getting herself + up in gaudy theatrical clothes. + + +Chia Chen and Chia Lien had, we will now explain, secretly got ready +large baskets of cash, so the moment they heard old lady Chia utter the +word 'tip,' they promptly bade the pages be quick and fling the money. +The noise of the cash, running on every side of the stage, was all that +fell on the ear. Dowager lady Chia thoroughly enjoyed it. + +The two men then rose to their feet. The pages hastened to lay hold of a +silver kettle, newly brought in with fresh wine, and to deposit it in +Chia Lien's hands, who followed Chia Chen with quick step into the inner +rooms. Chia Chen advanced first up to 'sister-in-law' Li's table, and +curtseying, he raised her cup, and turned round, whereupon Chia Lien +quickly filled it to the brim. Next they approached Mrs. Hsueeh's table, +and they also replenished her cup. + +These two ladies lost no time in standing up, and smilingly +expostulating. "Gentlemen," they said, "please take your seats. What's +the use of standing on such ceremonies?" + +But presently every one, with the exception of the two ladies Mesdames +Hsing and Wang, quitted the banquet and dropping their arms against +their bodies they stood on one side. Chia Chen and his companion then +drew near dowager lady Chia's couch. But the couch was so low that they +had to stoop on their knees. Chia Chen was in front, and presented the +cup. Chia Lien was behind, and held the kettle up to her. But +notwithstanding that only these two offered her wine, Chia Tsung and the +other young men followed them closely in the order of their age and +grade; so the moment they saw them kneel, they immediately threw +themselves on their knees. Pao-yue too prostrated himself at once. + +Hsiang-yuen stealthily gave him a push. "What's the use of your now +following their lead again and falling on your knees?" she said. "But +since you behave like this, wouldn't it be well if you also went and +poured wine all round?" + +Pao-yue laughed. "Hold on a bit," he rejoined in a low tone, "and I'll go +and do so." + +So speaking, he waited until his two relatives had finished pouring the +wine and risen to their feet, when he also went and replenished the cups +of Mesdames Wang and Hsing. + +"What about the young ladies?" Chia Chen smilingly asked. + +"You people had better be going," old lady Chia and the other ladies +unanimously observed. "They'll, then, be more at their ease." + +At this hint Chia Chen and his companions eventually withdrew. The +second watch had not, at the time, yet gone. The play that was being +sung was: 'The eight worthies look at the lanterns,' consisting of eight +acts; and had now reached a sensational part. + +Pao-yue at this stage left the feast and was going out. "Where are you +off to?" inquired his grandmother Chia. "The crackers outside are +dreadful. Mind, the lighted pieces of paper falling from above might +burn you." + +Pao-yue smiled. "I'm not going far," he answered. "I'm merely going out +of the room, and will be back at once." + +Dowager lady Chia directed the matrons to "be careful and escort him." + +Pao-yue forthwith sallied out; with no other attendants however than She +Yueeh, Ch'iu Wen and several youthful maids. + +"How is it," his grandmother Chia felt obliged so ask, "that I don't see +anything of Hsi Jen? Is she too now putting on high and mighty airs that +she only sends these juvenile girls here?" + +Madame Wang rose to her feet with all haste. "Her mother," she +explained, "died the other day; so being in deep mourning, she couldn't +very well present herself." + +Dowager lady Chia nodded her head assentingly. "When one is in service," +she smilingly remarked, "there should be no question of mourning or no +mourning. Is it likely that, if she were still in my pay, she wouldn't +at present be here? All these practices have quite become precedents!" + +Lady Feng crossed over to her. "Had she even not been in mourning +to-night," she chimed in with a laugh, "she would have had to be in the +garden and keep an eye over that pile of lanterns, candles, and +fireworks, as they're most dangerous things. For as soon as any +theatricals are set on foot in here, who doesn't surreptitiously sneak +out from the garden to have a look? But as far as she goes, she's +diligent, and careful of every place. Moreover, when the company +disperses and brother Pao-yue retires to sleep, everything will be in +perfect readiness. But, had she also come, that bevy of servants +wouldn't again have cared a straw for anything; and on his return, after +the party, the bedding would have been cold, the tea-water wouldn't have +been ready, and he would have had to put up with every sort of +discomfort. That's why I told her that there was no need for her to +come. But should you, dear senior, wish her here, I'll send for her +straightway and have done." + +Old lady Chia lent an ear to her arguments. "What you say," she promptly +put in, "is perfectly right. You've made better arrangements than I +could. Quick, don't send for her! But when did her mother die? How is it +I know nothing about it?" + +"Some time ago," lady Feng laughed, "Hsi Jen came in person and told +you, worthy ancestor, and how is it you've forgotten it?" + +"Yes," resumed dowager lady Chia smiling, after some reflection, "I +remember now. My memory is really not of the best." + +At this, everybody gave way to laughter. "How could your venerable +ladyship," they said, "recollect so many matters?" + +Dowager lady Chia thereupon heaved a sigh. "How I remember," she added, +"the way she served me ever since her youth up; and how she waited upon +Yuen Erh also; how at last she was given to that prince of devils, and +how she has slaved away with that imp for the last few years. She is, +besides, not a slave-girl, born or bred in the place. Nor has she ever +received any great benefits from our hands. When her mother died, I +meant to have given her several taels for her burial; but it quite +slipped from my mind." + +"The other day," lady Feng remarked, "Madame Wang presented her with +forty taels; so that was all right." + +At these words, old lady Chia nodded assent. "Yes, never mind about +that," she observed. "Yuan Yang's mother also died, as it happens, the +other day; but taking into consideration that both her parents lived in +the south, I didn't let her return home to observe a period of mourning. +But as both these girls are now in mourning, why not allow them to live +together? They'll thus be able to keep each other company. Take a few +fruits, eatables, and other such things," continuing she bade a matron, +"and give them to those two girls to eat." + +"Would she likely wait until now?" Hu Po laughingly interposed. "Why, +she joined (Hsi Jen) long ago." + +In the course of this conversation, the various inmates partook of some +more wine, and watched the theatricals. + +But we will now turn our attention to Pao-yue. He made his way straight +into the garden. The matrons saw well enough that he was returning to +his rooms, but instead of following him in, they ensconced themselves +near the fire in the tea-room situated by the garden-gate, and made the +best of the time by drinking and playing cards with the girls in charge +of the tea. Pao-yue entered the court. The lanterns burnt brightly, yet +not a human voice was audible. "Have they all, forsooth, gone to sleep?" +She Yueeh ventured. "Let's walk in gently, and give them a fright!" + +Presently, they stepped, on tiptoe, past the mirrored partition-wall. At +a glance, they discerned Hsi Jen lying on the stove-couch, face to face +with some other girl. On the opposite side sat two or three old nurses +nodding, half asleep. Pao-yue conjectured that both the girls were +plunged in sleep, and was just about to enter, when of a sudden some one +was heard to heave a sigh and to say: "How evident it is that worldly +matters are very uncertain! Here you lived all alone in here, while your +father and mother tarried abroad, and roamed year after year from east +to west, without any fixed place of abode. I ever thought that you +wouldn't have been able to be with them at their last moments; but, as +it happened, (your mother) died in this place this year, and you could, +after all, stand by her to the end." + +"Quite so!" rejoined Hsi Jen. "Even I little expected to be able to see +any of my parents' funeral. When I broke the news to our Madame Wang, +she also gave me forty taels. This was really a kind attention on her +part. I hadn't nevertheless presumed to indulge in any vain hopes." + +Pao-yue overheard what was said. Hastily twisting himself round, he +remarked in a low voice, addressing himself to She Yueeh and her +companions: "Who would have fancied her also in here? But were I to +enter, she'll bolt away in another tantrum! Better then that we should +retrace our steps, and let them quietly have a chat together, eh? Hsi +Jen was alone, and down in the mouth, so it's a fortunate thing that she +joined her in such good time." + +As he spoke, they once more walked out of the court with gentle tread. +Pao-yue went to the back of the rockery, and stopping short, he raised +his clothes. She Yueeh and Ch'iu Wen stood still, and turned their faces +away. "Stoop," they smiled, "and then loosen your clothes! Be careful +that the wind doesn't blow on your stomach!" + +The two young maids, who followed behind, surmised that he was bent upon +satisfying a natural want, and they hurried ahead to the tea-room to +prepare the water. + +Just, however, as Pao-yue was crossing over, two married women came in +sight, advancing from the opposite direction. "Who's there?" they +inquired. + +"Pao-yue is here," Ch'ing Wen answered. "But mind, if you bawl and shout +like that, you'll give him a start." + +The women promptly laughed. "We had no idea," they said, "that we were +coming, at a great festive time like this, to bring trouble upon +ourselves! What a lot of hard work must day after day fall to your +share, young ladies." + +Speaking the while, they drew near. She Yueeh and her friends then asked +them what they were holding in their hands. + +"We're taking over," they replied, "some things to the two girls: Miss +Chin and Miss Hua." + +"They're still singing the 'Eight Worthies' outside," She Yueeh went on +to observe laughingly, "and how is it you're running again to Miss +Chin's and Miss Hua's before the 'Trouble-first moon-box' has been gone +through?" + +"Take the lid off," Pao-yue cried, "and let me see what there's inside." + +Ch'in Wen and She Yueeh at once approached and uncovered the boxes. The +two women promptly stooped, which enabled Pao-yue to see that the +contents of the two boxes consisted alike of some of the finest fruits +and tea-cakes, which had figured at the banquet, and, nodding his head, +he walked off, while She Yueeh and her friend speedily threw the lids +down anyhow, and followed in his track. + +"Those two dames are pleasant enough," Pao-yue smiled, "and they know how +to speak decently; but it's they who get quite worn out every day, and +they contrariwise say that you've got ample to do daily. Now, doesn't +this amount to bragging and boasting?" + +"Those two women," She Yueeh chimed in, "are not bad. But such of them as +don't know what good manners mean are ignorant to a degree of all +propriety." + +"You, who know what's what," Pao-yue added, "should make allowances for +that kind of rustic people. You should pity them; that's all." + +Speaking, he made his exit out of the garden gate. The matrons had, +though engaged in drinking and gambling, kept incessantly stepping out +of doors to furtively keep an eye on his movements, so that the moment +they perceived Pao-yue appear, they followed him in a body. On their +arrival in the covered passage of the reception-hall, they espied two +young waiting-maids; the one with a small basin in her hand; the other +with a towel thrown over her arm. They also held a bowl and small +kettle, and had been waiting in that passage for ever so long. + +Ch'iu Wen was the first to hastily stretch out her hand and test the +water. "The older you grow," she cried, "the denser you get! How could +one ever use this icy-cold water?" + +"Miss, look at the weather!" the young maid replied. "I was afraid the +water would get cold. It was really scalding; is it cold now?" + +While she made this rejoinder, an old matron was, by a strange +coincidence, seen coming along, carrying a jug of hot water. "Dear +dame," shouted the young maid, "come over and pour some for me in here!" + +"My dear girl," the matron responded, "this is for our old mistress to +brew tea with. I'll tell you what; you'd better go and fetch some +yourself. Are you perchance afraid lest your feet might grow bigger by +walking?" + +"I don't care whose it is," Ch'iu Wen put in. "If you don't give me any, +I shall certainly empty our old lady's teapot and wash my hands." + +The old matron turned her head; and, catching sight of Ch'iu Wen, she +there and then raised the jug and poured some of the water. + +"That will do!" exclaimed Ch'iu Wen. "With all your years, don't you yet +know what's what? Who isn't aware that it's for our old mistress? But +would one presume to ask for what shouldn't be asked for?" + +"My eyes are so dim," the matron rejoined with a smile, "that I didn't +recognise this young lady." + +When Pao-yue had washed his hands, the young maid took the small jug and +filled the bowl; and, as she held it in her hand, Pao-yue rinsed his +mouth. But Ch'iu Wen and She Yueeh availed themselves likewise of the +warm water to have a wash; after which, they followed Pao-yue in. + +Pao-yue at once asked for a kettle of warm wine, and, starting from +sister-in-law Li, he began to replenish their cups. (Sister-in-law Li +and his aunt Hsueeh) pressed him, however, with smiling faces, to take a +seat; but his grandmother Chia remonstrated. "He's only a youngster," +she said, "so let him pour the wine! We must all drain this cup!" + +With these words, she quaffed her own cup, leaving no heel-taps. +Mesdames Hsing and Wang also lost no time in emptying theirs; so Mrs. +Hsueeh and 'sister-in-law' Li had no alternative but to drain their +share. + +"Fill the cups too of your female cousins, senior or junior," dowager +lady Chia went on to tell Pao-yue. "And you mayn't pour the wine anyhow. +Each of you must swallow every drop of your drinks." + +Pao-yue upon hearing her wishes, set to work, while signifying his +assent, to replenish the cups of the several young ladies in their +proper gradation. But when he got to Tai-yue, she raised the cup, for she +would not drink any wine herself, and applied it to Pao-yue's lips. +Pao-yue drained the contents with one breath; upon which Tai-yue gave him +a smile, and said to him: "I am much obliged to you." + +Pao-yue next poured a cup for her. But lady Feng immediately laughed and +expostulated. "Pao-yue!" she cried, "you mustn't take any cold wine. +Mind, your hand will tremble, and you won't be able to-morrow to write +your characters or to draw the bow." + +"I'm not having any cold wine," Pao-yue replied. + +"I know you're not," lady Feng smiled, "but I simply warn you." + +After this, Pao-yue finished helping the rest of the inmates inside, with +the exception of Chia Jung's wife, for whom he bade a maid fill a cup. +Then emerging again into the covered passage, he replenished the cups of +Chia Chen and his companions; after which, he tarried with them for a +while, and at last walked in and resumed his former seat. + +Presently, the soup was brought, and soon after that the 'feast of +lanterns' cakes were handed round. + +Dowager lady Chia gave orders that the play should be interrupted for a +time. "Those young people," (she said) "are be to pitied! Let them too +have some hot soup and warm viands. They then can go on again. Take of +every kind of fruit," she continued, "'feast of lanterns' cakes, and +other such dainties and give them a few." + +The play was shortly stopped. The matrons ushered in a couple of blind +singing-girls, who often came to the house, and put two benches, on the +opposite side, for them. Old lady Chia desired them to take a seat, and +banjos and guitars were then handed to them. + +"What stories would you like to hear?" old lady Chia inquired of +'sister-in-law' Li and Mrs. Hsueeh. + +"We don't care what they are;" both of them rejoined with one voice. +"Any will do!" + +"Have you of late added any new stories to your stock?" old lady Chia +asked. + +"We've got a new story," the two girls explained. "It's about an old +affair of the time of the Five Dynasties, which trod down the T'ang +dynasty." + +"What's its title?" old lady Chia inquired. + +"It's called: 'A Feng seeks a Luan in marriage': (the male phoenix asks +the female phoenix in marriage)," one of the girls answered. + +"The title is all very well," dowager lady Chia proceeded, "but why I +wonder was it ever given to it. First tell us its general purport, and +if it's interesting, you can continue." + +"This story," the girl explained, "treats of the time when the T'ang +dynasty was extinguished. There lived then one of the gentry, who had +originally been a denizen of Chin Ling. His name was Wang Chun. He had +been minister under two reigns. He had, about this time, pleaded old age +and returned to his home. He had about his knees only one son, called +Wang Hsi-feng." + +When the company heard so far, they began to laugh. + +"Now isn't this a duplicate of our girl Feng's name?" old lady Chia +laughingly exclaimed. + +A married woman hurried up and pushed (the girl). "That's the name of +your lady Secunda," she said, "so don't use it quite so heedlessly!" + +"Go on with your story!" dowager lady Chia shouted. + +The girl speedily stood up, smiling the while. "We do deserve death!" +she observed. "We weren't aware that it was our lady's worthy name." + +"Why should you be in such fear and trembling?" lady Feng laughed. "Go +on! There are many duplicate names and duplicate surnames." + +The girl then proceeded with her story. "In a certain year," she +resumed, "his honour old Mr. Wang saw his son Mr. Wang off for the +capital to be in time for the examinations. One day, he was overtaken by +a heavy shower of rain and he betook himself into a village for shelter. +Who'd have thought it, there lived in this village, one of the gentry, +of the name of Li, who had been an old friend of his honour old Mr. +Wang, and he kept Mr. Wang junior to put up in his library. This Mr. Li +had no son, but only a daughter. This young daughter's worthy name was +Ch'u Luan. She could perform on the lute; she could play chess; and she +had a knowledge of books and of painting. There was nothing that she did +not understand." + +Old lady Chia eagerly chimed in. "It's no wonder," she said, "that the +story has been called: 'A Feng seeks a Luan in marriage,' '(a male +phoenix seeks a female phoenix in marriage).' But you needn't proceed. +I've already guessed the denouement. There's no doubt that Wang Hsi-feng +asks for the hand of this Miss Ch'u Luan." + +"Your venerable ladyship must really have heard the story before," the +singing-girl smiled. + +"What hasn't our worthy senior heard?" they all exclaimed. "But she's +quick enough in guessing even unheard of things." + +"All these stories run invariably in one line," old lady Chia laughingly +rejoined. "They're all about pretty girls and scholars. There's no fun +in them. They abuse people's daughters in every possible way, and then +they still term them nice pretty girls. They're so concocted that +there's not even a semblance of truth in them. From the very first, they +canvass the families of the gentry. If the paterfamilias isn't a +president of a board; then he's made a minister. The heroine is bound to +be as lovable as a gem. This young lady is sure to understand all about +letters, and propriety. She knows every thing and is, in a word, a +peerless beauty. At the sight of a handsome young man, she pays no heed +as to whether he be relation or friend, but begins to entertain thoughts +of the primary affair of her life, and forgets her parents and sets her +books on one side. She behaves as neither devil nor thief would: so in +what respect does she resemble a nice pretty girl? Were even her brain +full of learning, she couldn't be accounted a nice pretty girl, after +behaving in this manner! Just like a young fellow, whose mind is well +stored with book-lore, and who goes and plays the robber! Now is it +likely that the imperial laws would look upon him as a man of parts, and +that they wouldn't bring against him some charge of robbery? From this +it's evident that those, who fabricate these stories, contradict +themselves. Besides, they may, it's true, say that the heroines belong +to great families of official and literary status, that they're +conversant with propriety and learning and that their honourable mothers +too understand books and good manners, but great households like theirs +must, in spite of the parents having pleaded old age and returned to +their natives places, contain a great number of inmates; and the nurses, +maids and attendants on these young ladies must also be many; and how is +it then that, whenever these stories make reference to such matters, one +only hears of young ladies with but a single close attendant? What can, +think for yourselves, all the other people be up to? Indeed, what is +said before doesn't accord with what comes afterwards. Isn't it so, eh?" + +The party listened to her with much glee. "These criticisms of yours, +venerable ancestor," they said, "have laid bare every single +discrepancy." + +"They have however their reasons," old lady Chia smilingly resumed. +"Among the writers of these stories, there are some, who begrudge +people's wealth and honours, or possibly those, who having solicited a +favour (of the wealthy and honorable), and not obtained the object, upon +which their wishes were set, have fabricated lies in order to disparage +people. There is moreover a certain class of persons, who become so +corrupted by the perusal of such tales that they are not satisfied until +they themselves pounce upon some nice pretty girl. Hence is it that, for +fun's sake, they devise all these yarns. But how could such as they ever +know the principle which prevails in official and literary families? Not +to speak of the various official and literary families spoken about in +these anecdotes, take now our own immediate case as an instance. We're +only such a middle class household, and yet we've got none of those +occurrences; so don't let her go on spinning these endless yarns. We +must on no account have any of these stories told us! Why, even the +maids themselves don't understand any of this sort of language. I've +been getting so old the last few years, that I felt unawares quite +melancholy whenever the girls went to live far off, so my wont has been +to have a few passages recounted to me; but as soon as they got back, I +at once put a stop to these things." + +'Sister-in-law' Li and Mrs. Hsueeh both laughed. "This is just the rule," +they said, "which should exist in great families. Not even in our homes +is any of this confused talk allowed to reach the ears of the young +people." + +Lady Feng came forward and poured some wine. "Enough, that will do!" she +laughed. "The wine has got quite cold. My dear ancestor, do take a sip +and moisten your throat with, before you begin again to dilate on +falsehoods. What we've been having now can well be termed 'Record of a +discussion on falsehoods.' It has had its origin in this reign, in this +place, in this year, in this moon, on this day and at this very season. +But, venerable senior, you've only got one mouth, so you couldn't very +well simultaneously speak of two families. 'When two flowers open +together,' the proverb says, 'one person can only speak of one.' But +whether the stones be true or fictitious, don't let us say anything more +about them. Let's have the footlights put in order, and look at the +players. Dear senior, do let these two relatives have a glass of wine +and see a couple of plays; and you can then start arguing about one +dynasty after another. Eh, what do you say?" + +Saying this, she poured the wine, laughing the while. But she had +scarcely done speaking before the whole company were convulsed with +laughter. The two singing girls were themselves unable to keep their +countenance. + +"Lady Secunda," they both exclaimed, "what a sharp tongue you have! Were +your ladyship to take to story-telling, we really would have nowhere to +earn our rice." + +"Don't be in such overflowing spirits," Mrs. Hsueeh laughed. "There are +people outside; this isn't like any ordinary occasion." + +"There's only my senior brother-in-law Chen outside," lady Feng smiled. +"And we've been like brother and sister from our youth up. We've romped +and been up to every mischief to this age together. But all on account +of my marriage, I've had of late years to stand on ever so many +ceremonies. Why besides being like brother and sister from the time we +were small kids, he's anyhow my senior brother-in-law, and I his junior +sister-in-law. (One among) those twenty four dutiful sons, travestied +himself in theatrical costume (to amuse his parents), but those fellows +haven't sufficient spirit to come in some stage togs and try and make +you have a laugh, dear ancestor. I've however succeeded, after ever so +much exertion, in so diverting you as to induce you to eat a little more +than you would, and in putting everybody in good humour; and I should be +thanked by one and all of you; it's only right that I should. But can it +be that you will, on the contrary, poke fun at me?" + +"I've truly not had a hearty laugh the last few days," old lady Chia +smiled, "but thanks to the funny things she recounted just now, I've +managed to get in somewhat better spirits in here. So I'll have another +cup of wine." Then having drunk her wine, "Pao-yue," she went on to say, +"come and present a cup to your sister-in-law!" + +Lady Feng gave a smile. "There's no use for him to give me any wine," +she ventured. "(I'll drink out of your cup,) so as to bring upon myself +your longevity, venerable ancestor." + +While uttering this response, she raised dowager lady Chia's cup to her +lips, and drained the remaining half of the contents; after which, she +handed the cup to a waiting-maid, who took one from those which had been +rinsed with tepid water, and brought it to her. But in due course, the +cups from the various tables were cleared, and clean ones, washed in +warm water, were substituted; and when fresh wine had been served round, +(lady Feng and the maid) resumed their seats. + +"Venerable lady," a singing-girl put in, "you don't like the stories we +tell; but may we thrum a song for you?" + +"You two," remarked old lady Chia, "had better play a duet of the +'Chiang Chuen ling' song: 'the general's command.'" + +Hearing her wishes, the two girls promptly tuned their cords, to suit +the pitch of the song, and struck up on their guitars. + +"What watch of the night is it?" old lady Chia at this point inquired. + +"It's the third watch," the matrons replied with alacrity. + +"No wonder it has got so chilly and damp!" old lady Chia added. + +Extra clothes were accordingly soon fetched by the servants and maids. + +Madame Wang speedily rose to her feet and forced a smile. "Venerable +senior," she said, "wouldn't it be prudent for you to move on to the +stove couch in the winter apartments? It would be as well. These two +relatives are no strangers. And if we entertain them, it will he all +right." + +"Well, in that case," dowager lady Chia smilingly rejoined, "why +shouldn't the whole company adjourn inside? Wouldn't it be warmer for us +all?" + +"I'm afraid there isn't enough sitting room for every one of us," Madame +Wang explained. + +"I've got a plan," old lady Chia added. "We can now dispense with these +tables. All we need are two or three, placed side by side; we can then +sit in a group, and by bundling together it will be both sociable as +well as warm." + +"Yes, this will be nice!" one and all cried. + +Assenting, they forthwith rose from table. The married women hastened to +remove the debandade of the banquet. Then placing three large tables +lengthways side by side in the inner rooms, they went on to properly +arrange the fruits and viands, some of which had been replenished, +others changed. + +"You must none of you stand on any ceremonies!" dowager lady Chia +observed. "If you just listen while I allot you your places, and sit +down accordingly, it will be all right!" + +Continuing, she motioned to Mrs. Hsueeh and 'sister-in-law' Li to take +the upper seats on the side of honour, and, making herself comfortable +on the west, she bade the three cousins Pao-ch'in, Tai-yue and Hsian-yuen +sit close to her on the left and on the right. "Pao-yue," she proceeded +"you must go next to your mother." So presently she put Pao-yue, and +Pao-ch'ai and the rest of the young ladies between Mesdames Hsing and +Wang. On the west, she placed, in proper gradation, dame Lou, along with +Chia Lan, and Mrs. Yu and Li Wan, with Chia Lan, (number two,) between +them. While she assigned a chair to Chia Jung's wife among the lower +seats, put crosswise. "Brother Chen," old lady Chia cried, "take your +cousins and be off! I'm also going to sleep in a little time." + +Chia Chen and his associates speedily expressed their obedience, and +made, in a body, their appearance inside again to listen to any +injunctions she might have to give them. + +"Bundle yourself away at once!" shouted dowager lady Chia. "You needn't +come in. We've just sat down, and you'll make us get up again. Go and +rest; be quick! To-morrow, there are to be some more grand doings!" Chia +Chen assented with alacrity. "But Jung Erh should remain to replenish +the cups," he smiled; "it's only fair that he should." + +"Quite so!" answered old lady Chia laughingly. "I forgot all about him." + +"Yes!" acquiesced Chia Chen. Then twisting himself round, he led Chia +Lien and his companions out of the apartment. + +(Chia Chen and Chia Lien) were, of course, both pleased at being able to +get away. So bidding the servants see Chia Tsung and Chia Huang to their +respective homes, (Chia Chen) arranged with Chia Lien to go in pursuit +of pleasure and in quest of fun. But we will now leave them to their own +devices without another word. + +"I was just thinking," meanwhile dowager lady Chia laughed, "that it +would be well, although you people are numerous enough to enjoy +yourselves, to have a couple of great-grandchildren present at this +banquet, so Jung Erh now makes the full complement. But Jung Erh sit +near your wife, for she and you will then make the pair complete." + +The wife of a domestic thereupon presented a play-bill. + +"We, ladies," old lady Chia demurred, "are now chatting in high glee, +and are about to start a romp. Those young folks have, also, been +sitting up so far into the night that they must be quite cold, so let +the plays alone. Tell them then to have a rest. Yet call our own girls +to come and sing a couple of plays on this stage. They too will thus +have a chance of watching us a bit." + +After lending an ear to her, the married women assented and quitted the +room. And immediately finding some servant to go to the garden of Broad +Vista and summon the girls, they betook themselves, at the same time, as +far as the second gate and called a few pages to wait on them. + +The pages went with hurried step to the rooms reserved for the players, +and taking with them the various grown-up members of the company, they +only left the more youthful behind. Then fetching, in a little time, Wen +Kuan and a few other girls, twelve in all, from among the novices in the +Pear Fragrance court, they egressed by the corner gate leading out of +the covered passage. The matrons took soft bundles in their arms, as +their strength was not equal to carrying boxes. And under the conviction +that their old mistress would prefer plays of three or five acts, they +had put together the necessary theatrical costumes. + +After Wen Kuan and the rest of the girls had been introduced into the +room by the matrons, they paid their obeisance, and, dropping their arms +against their sides, they stood reverentially. + +"In this propitious first moon," old lady Chia smiled, "won't your +teacher let you come out for a stroll? What are you singing now? The +eight acts of the 'Eight worthies' recently sung here were so noisy, +that they made my head ache; so you'd better let us have something more +quiet. You must however bear in mind that Mrs. Hsueeh and Mrs. Li are +both people, who give theatricals, and have heard I don't know how many +fine plays. The young ladies here have seen better plays than our own +girls; and they have heard more beautiful songs than they. These +actresses, you see here now, formed once, despite their youth, part of a +company belonging to renowned families, fond of plays; and though mere +children, they excel any troupe composed of grown-up persons. So +whatever we do, don't let us say anything disparaging about them. But we +must now have something new. Tell Fang Kuan to sing us the 'Hsuen Meng' +ballad; and let only flutes and Pandean pipes be used. The other +instruments can be dispensed with." + +"Your venerable ladyship is quite right," Wen Kuan smiled. "Our acting +couldn't, certainly, suit the taste of such people as Mrs. Hsueeh, Mrs. +Li and the young ladies. Nevertheless, let them merely heed our +enunciation, and listen to our voices; that's all." + +"Well said!" dowager lady Chia laughed. + +'Sister-in-law' Li and Mrs. Hsueeh were filled with delight. "What a +sharp girl!" they remarked smilingly. "But do you also try to imitate +our old lady by pulling our leg?" + +"They're intended to afford us some ready-at-hand recreation," old lady +Chia smiled. "Besides, they don't go out to earn money. That's how it is +they are not so much up to the times." At the close of this remark, she +also desired K'uei Kuan to sing the play: 'Hui Ming sends a letter.' +"You needn't," she added, "make your face up. Just sing this couple of +plays so as to merely let both those ladies hear a kind of parody of +them. But if you spare yourselves the least exertion, I shall be +unhappy." + +When they heard this, Wen Kuan and her companions left the apartment and +promptly apparelled themselves and mounted the stage. First in order, +was sung the 'Hsuen Meng;' next, '(Hui Ming) sends a letter;' during +which, everybody observed such perfect silence that not so much as the +caw of a crow fell on the ear. + +"I've verily seen several hundreds of companies," Mrs. Hsueeh smiled, +"but never have I come across any that confined themselves to flutes." + +"There are some," dowager lady Chia answered. "In fact, in that play +acted just now called: 'Love in the western tower at Ch'u Ch'iang,' +there's a good deal sung by young actors in unison with the flutes. But +lengthy unison pieces of this description are indeed few. This too, +however, is purely a matter of taste; there's nothing out of the way +about it. When I was of her age," resuming, she pointed at Hsiang-yuen, +"her grandfather kept a troupe of young actresses. There was among them +one, who played the lute so efficiently that she performed the part when +the lute is heard in the 'Hsi Hsiang Chi,' the piece on the lute in the +'Yue Ts'an Chi,' and that in the supplementary 'P'i Pa Chi,' on the +Mongol flageolet with the eighteen notes, in every way as if she had +been placed in the real circumstances herself. Yea, far better than +this!" + +"This is still rarer a thing!" the inmates exclaimed. + +Old lady Chia then shortly called the married women, and bade them tell +Wen Kuan and the other girls to use both wind and string instruments and +render the piece; 'At the feast of lanterns, the moon is round.' + +The women servants received her orders and went to execute them. Chia +Jung and his wife meanwhile passed the wine round. + +When lady Feng saw dowager lady Chia in most exuberant spirits, she +smiled. "Won't it be nice," she said, "to avail ourselves of the +presence of the singing girls to pass plum blossom round and have the +game of forfeits: 'Spring-happy eyebrow-corners-go-up,' eh?" + +"That's a fine game of forfeits!" Old lady Chia cried, with a smile. "It +just suits the time of the year." + +Orders were therefore given at once to fetch a forfeit drum, varnished +black, and ornamented with designs executed with copper tacks. When +brought, it was handed to the singing girls to put on the table and rap +on it. A twig of red plum blossom was then obtained. "The one in whose +hand it is when the drum stops," dowager lady Chia laughingly proposed, +"will have to drink a cup of wine, and to say something or other as +well." + +"I'll tell you what," lady Feng interposed with a smile. "Who of us can +pit herself against you, dear ancestor, who have ever ready at hand +whatever you want to say? With the little use we are in this line, won't +there be an absolute lack of fun in our contributions? My idea is that +it would be nicer were something said that could be appreciated both by +the refined as well as the unrefined. So won't it be preferable that the +person, in whose hands the twig remains, when the drum stops, should +crack some joke or other?" + +Every one, who heard her, was fully aware what a good hand she had +always been at witty things, and how she, more than any other, had an +inexhaustible supply of novel and amusing rules of forfeits, ever +stocked in her mind, so her suggestion not only gratified the various +inmates of the family seated at the banquet, but even filled the whole +posse of servants, both old and young, who stood in attendance below, +with intense delight. The young waiting-maids rushed with eagerness in +search of the young ladies and told them to come and listen to their +lady Secunda, who was on the point again of saying funny things. A whole +crowd of servant-girls anxiously pressed inside and crammed the room. In +a little time, the theatricals were brought to a close, and the music +was stopped. Dowager lady Chia had some soup, fine cakes and fruits +handed to Wen Kuan and her companions to regale themselves with, and +then gave orders to sound the drum. The singing-girls were both experts, +so now they beat fast; and now slow. Either slow like the dripping of +the remnants of water in a clepsydra. Or quick, as when beans are being +sown. Or with the velocity of the pace of a scared horse, or that of the +flash of a swift lightning. The sound of the drum came to a standstill +abruptly. The twig of plum blossom had just reached old lady Chia, when +by a strange coincidence, the rattle ceased. Every one blurted out into +a boisterous fit of laughter. Chia Jung hastily approached and filled a +cup. "It's only natural," they laughingly cried, "that you venerable +senior, should be the first to get exhilarated; for then, thanks to you, +we shall also come in for some measure of good cheer." + +"To gulp down this wine is an easy job," dowager lady smiled, "but to +crack jokes is somewhat difficult." + +"Your jokes, dear ancestor, are even wittier than those of lady Feng," +the party shouted, "so favour us with one, and let's have a laugh!" + +"I've nothing out of the way to evoke laughter with," old lady Chia +smilingly answered. "Yet all that remains for me to do is to thicken the +skin of my antiquated phiz and come out with some joke. In a certain +family," she consequently went on to narrate, "there were ten sons; +these married ten wives. The tenth of these wives was, however, so +intelligent, sharp, quick of mind, and glib of tongue, that her father +and mother-in-law loved her best of all, and maintained from morning to +night that the other nine were not filial. These nine felt much +aggrieved and they accordingly took counsel together. 'We nine,' they +said, 'are filial enough at heart; the only thing is that that shrew has +the gift of the gab. That's why our father and mother-in-law think her +so perfect. But to whom can we go and confide our grievance?' One of +them was struck with an idea. 'Let's go to-morrow,' she proposed, 'to +the temple of the King of Hell and burn incense. We can then tell the +King our grudge and ask him how it was that, when he bade us receive +life and become human beings, he only conferred a glib tongue on that +vixen and that we were only allotted such blunt mouths?' The eight +listened to her plan, and were quite enraptured with it. 'This proposal +is faultless!' they assented. On the next day, they sped in a body to +the temple of the God of Hell, and after burning incense, the nine +sisters-in-law slept under the altar, on which their offerings were +laid. Their nine spirits waited with the special purpose of seeing the +carriage of the King of Hell arrive; but they waited and waited, and yet +he did not come. They were just giving way to despair when they espied +Sun Hsing-che, (the god of monkeys), advancing on a rolling cloud. He +espied the nine spirits, and felt inclined to take a golden rod and beat +them. The nine spirits were plunged in terror. Hastily they fell on +their knees, and pleaded for mercy." + +"'What are you up to?' Sun Hsing-che inquired." + +"The nine women, with alacrity, told him all." + +"After Sun Hsing-che had listened to their confidences, he stamped his +foot and heaved a sigh. 'Is that the case?' he asked. 'Well, it's lucky +enough you came across me, for had you waited for the God of Hell, he +wouldn't have known anything about it.'" + +"At these assurances, the nine women gave way to entreaties. 'Great +saint,' they pleaded, 'if you were to display some commiseration, we +would be all right.'" + +"Sun Hsing-che smiled. 'There's no difficulty in the way,' he observed. +'On the day on which you ten sisters-in-law came to life, I was, as luck +would have it, on a visit to the King of Hell's place. So I (saw) him do +something on the ground, and the junior sister-of-law of yours lap it +up. But if you now wish to become smart and sharp-tongued, the remedy +lies in water. If I too were therefore to do something, and you to drink +it, the desired effect will be attained.'" + +At the close of her story, the company roared with laughter. + +"Splendid!" shouted lady Feng. "But luckily we're all slow of tongue and +dull of intellect, otherwise, we too must have had the water of monkeys +to drink." + +"Who among us here," Mrs. Yu and dame Lou smilingly remarked, addressing +themselves to Li Wan, "has tasted any monkey's water. So don't sham +ignorance of things!" + +"A joke must hit the point to be amusing," Mrs. Hsueeh ventured. + +But while she spoke, (the girls) began again to beat the drum. The young +maids were keen to hear lady Feng's jokes. They therefore explained to +the singing girls, in a confidential tone, that a cough would be the +given signal (for them to desist). In no time (the blossom) was handed +round on both sides. As soon as it came to lady Feng, the young maids +purposely gave a cough. The singing-girl at once stopped short. "Now +we've caught her!" shouted the party laughingly; "drink your wine, be +quick! And mind you tell something nice! But don't make us laugh so +heartily as to get stomachaches." + +Lady Feng was lost in thought. Presently, she began with a smile. "A +certain household," she said, "was celebrating the first moon festival. +The entire family was enjoying the sight of the lanterns, and drinking +their wine. In real truth unusual excitement prevailed. There were great +grandmothers, grandmothers, daughters-in-law, grandsons' wives, great +grandsons, granddaughters, granddaughters-in-law, aunts' granddaughters, +cousins' granddaughters; and ai-yo-yo, there was verily such a bustle +and confusion!" + +While minding her story, they laughed. "Listen to all this mean mouth +says!" they cried. "We wonder what other ramifications she won't +introduce!" + +"If you want to bully me," Mrs. Yu smiled, "I'll tear that mouth of +yours to pieces." + +Lady Feng rose to her feet and clapped her hands. + +"One does all one can to rack one's brain," she smiled, "and here you +combine to do your utmost to confuse me! Well, if it is so, I won't go +on." + +"Proceed with your story," old lady Chia exclaimed with a smile. "What +comes afterwards?" + +Lady Feng thought for a while. "Well, after that," she continued +laughingly, "they all sat together and crammed the whole room. They +primed themselves with wine throughout the hours of night and then they +broke up." + +The various inmates noticed in what a serious and sedate manner she +narrated her story, and none ventured to pass any further remarks, but +waited anxiously for her to go on, when they became aware that she +coldly and drily came to a stop. + +Shih Hsiang-yuen stared at her for ever so long. + +"I'll tell you another," lady Feng laughingly remarked. "At the first +moon festival, several persons carried a cracker as large as a room and +went out of town to let it off. Over and above ten thousand persons were +attracted, and they followed to see the sight. One among them was of an +impatient disposition. He could not reconcile himself to wait; so +stealthily he snatched a joss-stick and set fire to it. A sound of +'pu-ch'ih' was heard. The whole number of spectators laughed +boisterously and withdrew. The persons, who carried the cracker, felt a +grudge against the cracker-seller for not having made it tight, (and +wondered) how it was that every one had left without hearing it go off." + +"Is it likely that the men themselves didn't hear the report?" +Hsiang-yuen insinuated. + +"Why, the men themselves were deaf," lady Feng rejoined. + +After listening to her, they pondered for a while, and then suddenly +they laughed aloud in chorus. But remembering that her first story had +been left unfinished, they inquired of her: "What was, after all, the +issue of the first story? You should conclude that too." + +Lady Feng gave a rap on the table with her hand. "How vexatious you +are!" she exclaimed. "Well, the next day was the sixteenth; so the +festivities of the year were over, and the feast itself was past and +gone. I see people busy putting things away, and fussing about still, so +how can I make out what will be the end of it all?" + +At this, one and all indulged in renewed merriment. + +"The fourth watch has long ago been struck outside," lady Feng smilingly +said. "From what I can see, our worthy senior is also tired out; and we +should, like when the cracker was let off in that story of the deaf +people, be bundling ourselves off and finish!" + +Mrs. Yu and the rest covered their mouths with their handkerchiefs and +laughed. Now they stooped forward; and now they bent backward. And +pointing at her, "This thing," they cried, "has really a mean tongue." + +Old lady Chia laughed. "Yes," she said, "this vixen Feng has, in real +truth, developed a meaner tongue than ever! But she alluded to +crackers," she added, "so let's also let off a few fireworks so as to +counteract the fumes of the wine." + +Chia Jung overheard the suggestion. Hurriedly leaving the room, he took +the pages with him, and having a scaffolding erected in the court, they +hung up the fireworks, and got everything in perfect readiness. These +fireworks were articles of tribute, sent from different states, and +were, albeit not large in size, contrived with extreme ingenuity. The +representations of various kinds of events of antiquity were perfect, +and in them were inserted all sorts of crackers. + +Lin Tai-yue was naturally of a weak disposition, so she could not stand +the report of any loud intonation. Her grandmother Chia therefore +clasped her immediately in her embrace. Mrs. Hsueeh, meanwhile, took +Hsiang-yuen in her arms. + +"I'm not afraid," smiled Hsiang-yuen. + +"Nothing she likes so much as letting off huge crackers," Pao-ch'ai +smilingly interposed, "and could she fear this sort of thing?" + +Madame Wang, thereupon, laid hold of Pao-yue, and pulled him in her lap. + +"We've got no one to care a rap for us," lady Feng laughed. + +"I'm here for you," Mrs. Yu rejoined with a laugh. "I'll embrace you. +There you're again behaving like a spoilt child. You've heard about +crackers, and you comport yourself as if you'd had honey to eat! You're +quite frivolous again to-day!" + +"Wait till we break up," lady Feng answered laughing, "and we'll go and +let some off in our garden. I can fire them far better than any of the +young lads!" + +While they bandied words, one kind of firework after another was lighted +outside, and then later on some more again. Among these figured +'fill-heaven-stars;' 'nine dragons-enter-clouds;' 'over-whole-land-a- +crack-of-thunder;' 'fly-up-heavens;' 'sound-ten shots,' and other such +small crackers. + +The fireworks over, the young actresses were again asked to render the +'Lotus-flowers-fall,' and cash were strewn upon the stage. The young +girls bustled all over the boards, snatching cash and capering about. + +The soup was next brought. "The night is long," old lady Chia said, "and +somehow or other I feel peckish." + +"There's some congee," lady Feng promptly remarked, "prepared with +duck's meat." + +"I'd rather have plain things," dowager lady Chia answered. + +"There's also some congee made with non-glutinous rice and powder of +dates. It's been cooked for the ladies who fast." + +"If there's any of this, it will do very well," old lady Chia replied. + +While she spoke, orders were given to remove the remnants of the +banquet, and inside as well as outside; were served every kind of +_recherche_ small dishes. One and all then partook of some of these +refreshments, at their pleasure, and rinsing their mouths with tea, they +afterwards parted. + +On the seventeenth, they also repaired, at an early hour, to the Ning +mansion to present their compliments; and remaining in attendance, while +the doors of the ancestral hall were closed and the images put away, +they, at length, returned to their quarters. + +Invitations had been issued on this occasion to drink the new year wine +at Mrs. Hsueeh's residence. But dowager lady Chia had been out on several +consecutive days, and so tired out did she feel that she withdrew to her +rooms, after only a short stay. + +After the eighteenth, relatives and friends arrived and made their +formal invitations; or else they came as guests to the banquets given. +But so little was old lady Chia in a fit state to turn her mind to +anything that the two ladies, Madame Hsing and lady Feng, had to attend +between them to everything that cropped up. But Pao-yue as well did not +go anywhere else than to Wang Tzu-t'eng's, and the excuse he gave out +was that his grandmother kept him at home to dispel her ennui. + +We need not, however, dilate on irrelevant details. In due course, the +festival of the fifteenth of the first moon passed. But, reader, if you +have any curiosity to learn any subsequent events, listen to those given +in the chapter below. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + + The stupid secondary wife, dame Chao, needlessly loses her temper and + insults her own daughter, T'an Ch'un. + The perverse servant-girls are so full of malice that they look down + contemptuously on their youthful mistresses. + + +We will now resume our narration with the Jung Mansion. Soon after the +bustle of the new year festivities, lady Feng who, with the most arduous +duties she had had to fulfil both before and after the new year, had +found little time to take proper care of herself, got a miscarriage and +could not attend to the management of domestic affairs. Day after day +two and three doctors came and prescribed for her. But lady Feng had +ever accustomed herself to be hardy, so although unable to go out of +doors, she nevertheless devised the ways and means for everything, and +made the various arrangements she deemed necessary, and whatever concern +suggested itself to her mind, she entrusted to P'ing Erh to lay before +Madame Wang. But however much people advised her to be careful, she +would not lend an ear to them. Madame Wang felt as if she had been +deprived of her right arm. And as she alone had not sufficient energy to +see to everything, she bestowed her own attention upon such important +affairs, as turned up, and entrusted, for the time being, all +miscellaneous domestic matters to the co-operation of Li Wan. + +Li Wan had at all times held virtue at a high price, and set but little +value on talents of any kind, so that she, as a matter of course, +displayed leniency to those who were placed under her. Madame Wang +accordingly bade T'an Ch'un combine with Li Wan in the management of the +household. "In a month," she argued, "lady Feng will be getting all +right again, and then you can once more hand over charge to her." + +Little, however, though one would think it, lady Feng was endowed with a +poor physique. From her youth up, moreover, she had not known how to +husband her health; and emulation and contentiousness had, more than +anything else, combined to undermine her vital energies. Hence it was +that although her complaint was a simple miscarriage, it had really, +after all, been the outcome of loss of vigour. After a month symptoms of +emissions of blood began also to show themselves. And notwithstanding +her reluctance to utter what she felt every one, at the sight of her +sallow and emaciated face, readily concluded that she was not nursing +herself as well as she should. + +Madame Wang therefore enjoined her merely to take her medicines and look +to herself with due care; and she would not allow her to disquiet her +mind about the least thing. But (lady Feng) herself also gave way to +misgivings lest her illness should assume some grave phase, and much +though she laughed with one and all, she was ever mindful to steal time +to attend to her health, feeling inwardly vexed at not being able to +soon get back her old strength again. But she had, as it happened, to +dose herself with medicines and to nurse herself for three whole months, +before she gradually began to rally and before the discharges stopped by +degrees. But we will abstain from any reference to these details which +pertain to the future, suffice it now to add that though Madame Wang +noticed her improved state, (she thought it) impossible for the time +being for T'an Ch'un and Li Wan to resign their charge. But so fidgetty +was she lest with the large number of inmates in the garden proper +control should not be exercised that she specially sent for Pao-ch'ai +and begged of her to keep an eye over every place, explaining to her +that the old matrons were of no earthly use, for whenever they could +obtain any leisure, they drank and gambled; and slept during broad +daylight, while they played at cards during the hours of night. "I know +all about their doings," (she said). "When that girl Feng is well enough +to go out, they have some little fear. But they're bound at present to +consult again their own convenience. Yet you, dear child, are one in +whom I can repose complete trust. Your brother and your female cousins +are, on the one hand, young; and I can, on the other, afford no spare +time; so do exert yourself on my behalf for a couple of days, and +exercise proper supervision. And should anything unexpected turn up, +just come and tell it to me. Don't wait until our old lady inquires +about it, as I shall then find myself in a corner with nothing to say in +my defence. If those servants aren't on their good behaviour, mind you +blow them up; and if they don't listen to you, come and lay your +complaint before me; for it will be best not to let anything assume a +serious aspect." + +Pao-ch'ai listened to her appeal and felt under the necessity of +volunteering to undertake the charge. + +The season was about the close of spring, so Tai-yue got her cough back +again. But Hsiang-yuen was likewise laid up in the Heng Wu Yuean, as she +too was affected by the weather, and day after day she saw numberless +doctors and took endless medicines. + +T'an Ch'un and Li Wan lived apart, but as they had of late assumed joint +management of affairs, it was, unlike former years, extremely +inconvenient even for the servants to go backwards and forwards to make +their reports. They consequently resolved that they should meet early +every day in the small three-roomed reception-hall, at the south side of +the garden gate, to transact what business there was, and that their +morning meal over, they should after noon return again to their +quarters. + +This three-roomed hall had originally been got ready at the time of the +visit of the imperial consort to her parents, to accommodate the +attendants and eunuchs. This visit over, it proved, therefore, no longer +of use, and the old matrons simply came to it every night to keep watch. +But mild weather had now set in, and any complete fittings were quite +superfluous. All that could be seen about amounted to a few small pieces +of furniture just sufficient for them to make themselves comfortable +with. Over this hall was likewise affixed a placard, with the +inscription in four characters: + + "Perfected philanthropy, published virtue!" + +Yet the place was generally known among the domestics as 'the +discuss-matters-hall.' To this hall, (Li Wan and T'an Ch'un) would daily +adjourn at six in the morning, and leave it at noon, and the wives of +the managers and other servants, who had any matters to lay before them, +came and went in incessant strings. + +When the domestics heard that Li Wan would assume sole control, each and +all felt secretly elated; for as Li Wan had always been considerate, +forbearing and loth to inflict penalties, she would be, of course, they +thought, easier to put off than lady Feng. Even when T'an Ch'un was +added, they again remembered that she was only a youthful unmarried girl +and that she too had ever shown herself goodnatured and kindly to a +degree, so none of them worried their minds about her, and they became +considerably more indolent than when they had to deal with lady Feng. +But after the expiry of three or four days several concerns passed +through her hands, which gave them an opportunity to gradually find out +that T'an Ch'un did not, in smartness and thoroughness, yield to lady +Feng, and that the only difference between them was that she was soft in +speech and gentle in disposition. By a remarkable coincidence, princes, +dukes, marquises, earls, and hereditary officials arrived for +consecutive days from various parts; all of whom were, if not the +relatives of the Jung and Ning mansions, at least their old friends. +There were either those who had obtained transfers on promotion, or +others who had been degraded; either those, who had married, or those +who had gone into mourning, and Madame Wang had so much congratulating +and condoling, receiving and escorting to do that she had no time to +attend to any entertaining. There was therefore less than ever any one +in the front part to look after things. So while (T'an Ch'un and Li Wan) +spent their whole days in the hall, Pao-ch'ai tarried all day in the +drawing-rooms, to keep an eye over what was going on; and they only +betook themselves back to their quarters after Madame Wang's return. Of +a night, they whiled away their leisure hours by doing needlework; but +they would, previous to retiring to sleep, get into their chairs, and, +taking along with them the servants, whose duty it was to be on night +watch in the garden, and other domestics as well, they visited each +place on their round. Such was the control exercised by these three +inmates that signs were not wanting to prove that greater severity was +observed than in the days when the management devolved on lady Feng. To +this reason must be assigned the fact that all the servants attached +inside as well as outside cherished a secret grudge against them. "No +sooner," they insinuated, "has one patrolling ogre come than they add +three more cerberean sort of spring josses so that even at night we've +got less time than ever to sip a cup of wine and indulge in a romp!" + +On the day that Madame Wang was going to a banquet at the mansion of the +Marquis of Chin Hsiang, Li Wan and T'an Ch'un arranged their coiffure +and performed their ablutions at an early hour; and after waiting upon +her until she went out of doors, they repaired into the hall and +installed themselves in their seats. But just as they were sipping their +tea, they espied Wu Hsin-teng's wife walk in. "Mrs. Chao's brother, Chao +Kuo-chi," she observed, "departed this life yesterday; the tidings have +already been reported to our old mistress and our lady, who said that it +was all right, and bade me tell you, Miss." + +At the close of this announcement, she respectfully dropped her arms +against her body, and stood aloof without adding another word. The +servants, who came at this season to lay their reports before (T'an +Ch'un and Li Wan), mustered no small number. But they all endeavoured to +find out how their two new mistresses ran the household; for as long +they managed things properly, one and all willingly resolved to respect +them, but in the event of the least disagreement or improper step, not +only did they not submit to them, but they also spread, the moment they +put their foot outside the second gate, numberless jokes on their +account and made fun of them. Wu Hsin-teng's wife had thus devised an +experiment in her own mind. Had she had to deal with lady Feng, she +would have long ago made an attempt to show off her zeal by proposing +numerous alternatives and discovering various bygone precedents, and +then allowed lady Feng to make her own choice and take action; but, in +this instance, she looked with such disdain on Li Wan, on account of her +simplicity, and on T'an Ch'un, on account of her youthfulness, that she +volunteered only a single sentence, in order to put both these ladies to +the test, and see what course they would be likely to adopt. + +"What shall we do?" T'an Ch'un asked Li Wan. + +Li Wan reflected for a while. "The other day," she rejoined, "that Hsi +Jen's mother died, I heard that she was given forty taels. So now give +her forty taels as well and have done!" + +Upon hearing this proposal, Wu Hsin-teng's wife eagerly expressed her +acquiescence, by uttering a yes; and taking over the permit she was +going on her way at once. + +"Come back," shouted T'an Ch'un. + +"Wu Hsing-teng's wife had perforce to retrace her footsteps. + +"Wait, don't get the money yet," T'an Ch'un remarked. "I want to ask you +something. Some of the old secondary wives, attached years back to our +venerable senior's rooms, lived inside the establishment; others +outside; there were these two distinctions between them. Now if any of +them died at home, how much was allowed them? And how much was allotted +to such as died outside? Tell us what was given in either case for our +guidance." + +As soon as Wu Hsin-teng's wife was asked this question, every detail +bearing on the subject slipped from her memory. Hastily forcing a smile, +"This is," she replied, "nothing of any such great consequence. Whether +much or little be allowed, who'll ever venture to raise a quarrel about +it?" + +T'an Ch'un then smiled. "This is all stuff and nonsense!" she exclaimed. +"My idea is that it would be better to give a hundred taels. For if we +don't comply with what's right, we shall, not to speak of your +ridiculing us, find it also a hard job by and bye to face your mistress +Secunda." + +"Well, in that case," laughed Wu Hsin-teng's wife, "I'll go and look up +the old accounts. I can't recollect anything about them just at this +moment." + +"You're quite an old hand in the management of affairs," T'an Ch'un +observed with a significant smile, "and can't you remember, but come +instead to perplex us? Whenever you've had anything of the kind to lay +before your lady Secunda, have you also had to go first and look it up? +But if this has been the practice, lady Feng can't be looked upon as +being such a dreadful creature. One could very well call her lenient and +kind. Yet don't you yet hurry to go and hunt them up and bring them to +me to see? If we dilly-dally another day, they won't run you people down +for your coarse-mindedness, but we will seem to have been driven to our +wits' ends!" + +Wu Hsin-teng's wife got quite scarlet in the face. Promptly twisting +herself round, she quitted the hall; while the whole bevy of married +women stretched out their tongues significantly. + +During her absence, other matters were reported. But in a little while, +Wu Hsin-teng's wife returned with the old accounts. On inspection, T'an +Ch'un found that for a couple of secondary wives, who had lived in the +establishment, twenty-four taels had been granted, and that for two, +whose quarters had been outside, forty taels had in each case been +allowed. Besides these two, others were mentioned, who had lived outside +the mansion; to one of whom a hundred taels had been given, and to the +other, sixty taels. Under these two records, the reasons were assigned. +In the one case, the coffins of father and mother had had to be removed +from another province, and sixty taels extra had consequently been +granted. In the other, an additional twenty taels had been allowed, as a +burial-place had to be purchased at the time. + +T'an Ch'un handed the accounts to Li Wan for her perusal. + +"Give her twenty taels," readily suggested T'an Ch'un. "Leave these +accounts here for us to examine minutely." + +Wu Hsin-teng's wife then walked away. But unexpectedly Mrs. Chao entered +the hall. Li Wan and T'an Ch'un speedily pressed her to take a seat. + +Mrs. Chao then broke the silence. "All the inmates of these rooms have +trampled me under heel," she said, "but never mind! Yet, my child, just +ponder, it is only fair that you should take my part." + +While ventilating her grievances, her eyes got moist, her nose watered, +and she began to sob. + +"To whom are you alluding Mrs. Chao?" T'an Ch'un hastily inquired. "I +can't really make out what you're driving at. Who tramples you under +foot? Speak out and I'll take up your cudgels." + +"You're now trampling me down yourself, young lady," Mrs. Chao observed. +"And to whom can I go and tell my grievance?" + +T'an Ch'un, at these words, jumped up with alacrity. "I never would +presume to do any such thing," she protested. + +Li Wan too vehemently sprung to her feet to proffer her some good +counsel. + +"Pray seat yourselves, both of you," Mrs. Chao cried, "and listen to +what I have to say. I've had, like simmering oil, to consume away in +these rooms to this advanced age. There's also your brother besides. Yet +I can't compare myself now even to Hsi Jen, and what credit do I enjoy? +But you haven't as well any face, so don't let's speak of myself." + +"It was really on account of this," T'an Ch'un smiled, "that I said that +I didn't presume to disregard right and to violate propriety." + +While she spoke, she resumed her seat, and taking up the accounts, she +turned them over for Mrs. Chao to glance at, after which she read them +out to her for her edification. "These are old customs," she proceeded, +"enforced by the seniors of the family, and every one complies with +them, and could I ever, pray, have changed them? These will hold good +not only with Hsi Jen; but even when by and bye Huan-erh takes a +concubine, the same course will naturally be adopted as in the case of +Hsi Jen. This is no question for any large quarrels or small disputes, +and no mention should be made about face or no face. She's our Madame +Wang's servant-girl, and I've dealt with her according to a +long-standing precedent. Those who say that I've taken suitable action +will come in for our ancestors' bounty and our lady's bounty as well. +But should any one uphold that I've adopted an unfair course, that +person is devoid of all common sense and totally ignorant of what a +blessing means. The only thing she can do is to foster as much +resentment as she chooses. Our lady, Madame Wang, may even give a +present of a house to any one; what credit is that to me? Again, she may +not give a single cash, but even that won't imply any loss of face, as +far as I am concerned. What I have to say is that as Madame Wang is away +from home, you should quietly look after yourself a bit. What's the good +of worrying and fretting? Our lady is extremely fond of me; and, if, at +different times, a chilliness has sprung up on her part, it's because +you, Mrs. Chao, have again and again been officious. Had I been a man +and able to have gone abroad, I would long ago have run away and started +some business. I would then have had something of my own to attend to. +But, as it happens, I am a girl, so that I can't even recklessly utter +so much as a single remark. Madame Wang is well aware of it in her +heart. And it's now because she entertains a high opinion of me that she +recently bade me assume the charge of domestic affairs. But before I've +had time enough to do a single good act, here you come, Mrs. Chao, to +lay down the law. If this reaches Madame Wang's ear, I fear I shall get +into trouble. She won't let me exercise any control, and then I shall, +in real earnest, come in for no face. But even you, Mrs. Chao, will then +actually lose countenance." + +Reasoning with her, she so little could repress her tears that they +rolled down her cheeks. + +Mrs. Chao had not a word more to say to refute her arguments with. "If +Madame Wang loves you," she simply responded, "there's still more reason +why you should have drawn us into her favour. (Instead of that), all you +think about is to try and win Madame Wang's affections, and you forget +all about us." + +"How ever did I forget you?" T'an Ch'un exclaimed. "How would you have +me drag you into favour? Go and ask every one of them, and you'll see +what mistress is indifferent to any one, who exerts her energies and +makes herself useful, and what worthy person requires being drawn into +favour?" + +Li Wan, who stood by, did her best to pacify them with her advice. "Mrs. +Chao," she argued, "don't lose your temper! Neither should you feel any +ill-will against this young lady of yours. Had she even at heart every +good intention to lend you a hand, how could she put it into words?" + +"This worthy senior dame," T'an Ch'un impatiently interposed, "has also +grown quite dense! Whom could I drag into favour? Why, in what family, +do the young ladies give a lift to slave-girls? Their qualities as well +as defects should all alike be well known to you people. And what have +they got to do with me?" + +Mrs. Chao was much incensed. "Who tells you," she asked, "to give a lift +to any one? Were it not that you looked after the house, I wouldn't have +come to inquire anything of you. But anything you may suggest is right; +so had you, now that your maternal uncle is dead, granted twenty or +thirty taels in excess, is it likely that Madame Wang would not have +given you her consent? It's evident that our Madame Wang is a good woman +and that it's you people who are mean and stingy. Unfortunately, +however, her ladyship has with all her bounty no opportunity of +exercising it. You could, my dear girl, well set your mind at ease. You +wouldn't, in this instance, have had to spend any of your own money; and +at your marriage by and bye, I would still have borne in mind the +exceptional regard you had shown the Chao family. But now that you've +got your full plumage, you've forgotten your extraction, and chosen a +lofty branch to fly to." + +Before T'an Ch'un had heard her to the end, she flew into such a rage +that her face blanched; and choking for breath, she gasped and panted. +Sobbing, she asked the while: "Who's my maternal uncle? My maternal +uncle was at the end of the year promoted to be High Commissioner of the +Nine Provinces! How can another maternal uncle have cropped up? It's +because I've ever shown that reverence enjoined by the rites that other +relatives have now more than ever turned up. If what you say be the +case, how is it that every day that Huan-erh goes out, Chao Kuo-chi too +stands up, and follows him to school? Why doesn't he put on the airs of +an uncle? What's the reason that he doesn't? Who isn't aware of the fact +that I'm born of a concubine? Would it require two or three months' time +to trace my extraction? But the fact is you've come to kick up all this +hullaballoo for fear lest people shouldn't be alive to the truth; and +with the express design of making it public all over the place! But I +wonder who of us two will make the other lose face? Luckily, I've got my +wits about me; for had I been a stupid creature ignorant of good +manners, I would long ago have lost all patience." + +Li Wan was much concerned, but she had to continue to exhort them to +desist. But Mrs. Chao proceeded with a long rigmarole until a servant +was unexpectedly heard to report that lady Secunda had sent Miss Ping to +deliver a message. Mrs. Chao caught the announcement, and eventually +held her peace, when they espied P'ing erh making her appearance. Mrs. +Chao hastily forced a saturnine smile, and motioned to her to take a +seat. "Is your lady any better?" she went on to inquire with vehemence. +"I was just thinking of going to look her up; but I could find no +leisure!" + +Upon seeing P'ing Erh enter, Li Wan felt prompted to ask her the object +of her visit. + +"My lady says," P'ing Erh smilingly responded, "that she apprehends, now +that Mrs. Chao's brother is dead, that your ladyship and you, miss, are +not aware of the existence of an old precedent. According to the +ordinary practice no more need be given than twenty taels; but she now +requests you, miss, to consider what would be best to do; if even you +add a good deal more, it will do well enough." + +T'an Ch'un at once wiped away all traces of tears. "What's the use of +another addition, when there's no valid reason for it?" she promptly +demurred. "Who has again been twenty months in the womb? Or is it +forsooth any one who's gone to the wars, and managed to escape with his +life, carrying his master on his back? Your mistress is certainly very +ingenious! She tells me to disregard the precedent, in order that she +should pose as a benefactress! She wishes to take the money, which +Madame Wang spurns, so as to reap the pleasure of conferring favours! +Just you tell her that I could not presume to add or reduce anything, or +even to adopt any reckless decision. Let her add what she wants and make +a display of bounty. When she gets better and is able to come out, she +can effect whatever additions she fancies." + +The moment P'ing Erh arrived, she obtained a fair insight (into lady +Feng's designs), so when she heard the present remarks, she grasped a +still more correct idea of things. But perceiving an angry look about +T'an Ch'un's face, she did not have the temerity to behave towards her +as she would, had she found her in the high spirits of past days. All +she did therefore was to stand aloof with her arms against her sides and +to wait in rigid silence. Just at that moment, however, Pao-ch'ai +dropped in, on her return from the upper rooms. T'an Ch'un quickly rose +to her feet, and offered her a seat. But before they had had time to +exchange any words, a married woman likewise came to report some +business. + +But as T'an Ch'un had been having a good cry, three or four young maids +brought her a basin, towel, and hand-glass and other articles of +toilette. T'an Ch'un was at the moment seated cross-legged, on a low +wooden couch, so the maid with the basin had, when she drew near, to +drop on both her knees and lift it high enough to bring it within reach. +The other two girls prostrated themselves next to her and handed the +towels and the rest of the toilet things, which consisted of a +looking-glass, rouge and powder. But P'ing Erh noticed that Shih Shu was +not in the room, and approaching T'an Ch'un with hasty step, she tucked +up her sleeves for her and unclasped her bracelets. Seizing also a large +towel from the hands of one of the maids, she covered the lapel on the +front part of T'an Ch'un's dress; whereupon T'an Ch'un put out her +hands, and washed herself in the basin. + +"My lady and miss," the married woman observed, "may it please you to +pay what has been spent in the family school for Mr. Chia Huan and Mr.. +Chia Lan during the year." + +P'ing Erh was the first to speak. "What are you in such a hurry for?" +she cried. "You've got your eyes wide open, and must be able to see our +young lady washing her face; instead of coming forward to wait on her, +you start talking! Do you also behave in this blind sort of way in the +presence of your lady Secunda? This young lady is, it's true, generous +and lenient, but I'll go and report you to your mistress. I'll simply +tell her that you people have no eye for Miss T'an Ch'un. But when you +find yourselves in a mess, don't bear me any malice." + +At this hint the woman took alarm, and hastily forcing a smile, she +pleaded guilty. "I've been rude," she exclaimed. With these words, she +rushed with all despatch out of the room. + +T'an Ch'un smoothed her face. While doing so, she turned herself towards +P'ing Erh and gave her a cynical smile. "You've come just one step too +late," she remarked. "You weren't in time to see something laughable! +Even sister Wu, an old hand at business though she be, failed to look up +clearly an old custom and came to play her tricks on us. But when we +plied her with questions, she luckily had the face to admit that it had +slipped from her memory. 'Do you,' I insinuated, 'also forget, when +you've got anything to report to lady Secunda? and have you subsequently +to go and hunt up all about it?' Your mistress can't, I fancy, be so +patient as to wait while she goes and institutes proper search." + +P'ing Erh laughed. "Were she to have behaved but once in this wise," she +observed, "I feel positive that a couple of the tendons of her legs +would have long ago been snapped. But, Miss, don't credit all they say. +It's because they see that our senior mistress is as sweet-tempered as a +'P'u-sa,' and that you, miss, are a modest young lady, that they, +naturally, shirk their duties and come and take liberties with you. Your +mind is set upon playing the giddy dogs," continuing, she added; +speaking towards those beyond the doorway; "but when your mistress gets +quite well again, we'll tell her all." + +"You're gifted with the greatest perspicacity, miss," the married women, +standing outside the door, smiled in chorus. "The proverb says: 'the +person who commits a fault must be the one to suffer.' We don't in any +way presume to treat any mistress with disdain. Our mistress at present +is in delicate health, and if we intentionally provoke her, may we, when +we die, have no place to have our corpses interred in." + +P'ing Erh laughed a laugh full irony. "So long as you're aware of this, +it's well and good," she said. And smiling a saturnine smile, she +resumed, addressing herself to T'an Ch'un: "Miss, you know very well how +busy our lady has been and how little she could afford the time to keep +this tribe of people in order. Of course, they couldn't therefore, be +prevented from becoming remiss. The adage has it: 'Lookers-on are clear +of sight!' During all these years that you, have looked on +dispassionately, there have possibly been instances on which, though +additions or reductions should have been made, our lady Secunda has not +been able to effect them, so, miss, do add or curtail whatever you may +deem necessary, in order that, first, Madame Wang may be benefited, and +that, secondly, you mayn't too render nugatory the kindness with which +you ever deal towards our mistress." + +But scarcely had she finished, than Pao-ch'ai and Li Wan smilingly +interposed. "What a dear girl!" they ejaculated. "One really can't feel +angry with that hussy Feng for being partial to her and fond of her. We +didn't, at first, see how we could very well alter anything by any +increase or reduction, but after what you've told us, we must hit upon +one or two things and try and devise means to do something, with a view +of not showing ourselves ungrateful of the advice you've tendered us." + +"My heart was swelling with indignation," T'an Ch'un observed laughing, +"and I was about to go and give vent to my temper with her mistress, but +now that she (P'ing Erh) has happened to come, she has, with a few +words, quite dissuaded me from my purpose." + +While she spoke, she called the woman, who had been with them a few +minutes back, to return into the room. "For what things for Mr. Chia +Huan and Mr. Chia Lau was the money expended during the year in the +family school?" she inquired of her. + +"For cakes," replied the woman, "they ate during the year at school; or +for the purchase of paper and pens. Each one of them is allowed eight +taels." + +"The various expenses on behalf of the young men," T'an Ch'un added, +"are invariably paid in monthly instalments to the respective +households. For cousin Chia Huan's, Mrs. Chao receives two taels. For +Pao-yue's, Hsi Jen draws two taels from our venerable senior's suite of +apartments. For cousin Chia Lan's, some one, in our senior lady's rooms, +gets the proper allowance. So how is it that these extra eight taels +have to be disbursed at school for each of these young fellows? Is it +really for these eight taels that they go to school? But from this day +forth I shall put a stop to this outlay. So P'ing Erh, when you get +back, tell your mistress that I say that this item must absolutely be +done away with." + +"This should have been done away with long ago," P'ing Erh smiled. "Last +year our lady expressed her intention to eliminate it, but with the +endless things that claimed her attention about the fall of the year, +she forgot all about it." + +The woman had no other course than to concur with her views and to walk +away. But the married women thereupon arrived from the garden of Broad +Vista with the boxes of eatables. So Shih Shu and Su Yuen at once brought +a small dining-table, and P'ing Erh began to fuss about laying the +viands on it. + +"If you've said all you had," T'an Ch'un laughed, "you'd better be off +and attend to your business. What's the use of your bustling about +here?" + +"I've really got nothing to do," P'ing Erh answered smiling. "Our lady +Secunda sent me first, to deliver a message; and next, because she +feared that the servants in here weren't handy enough. The fact is, she +bade me come and help the girls wait on you, my lady, and on you, miss." + +"Why don't you bring Mrs. Pao's meal so that she should have it along +with us?" T'an Ch'un then inquired. + +As soon as the waiting-maids heard her inquiry, they speedily rushed out +and went under the eaves. "Go," they cried, directing the married women, +"and say that Miss Pao-ch'ai would like to have her repast just now in +the hall along with the others, and tell them to send the eatables +here." + +T'an Ch'un caught their directions. "Don't be deputing people to go on +reckless errands!" she vociferated. "Those are dames, who manage +important matters and look after the house, and do you send them to ask +for eatables and inquire about tea? You haven't even the least notion +about gradation. P'ing Erh is standing here, so tell her to go and give +the message." + +P'ing Erh immediately assented, and issued from the room, bent upon +going on the errand. But the married women stealthily pulled her back. +"How could you, miss, be made to go and tell them?" they smiled. "We've +got some one here, who can do so!" + +So saying, they dusted one of the stone steps with their handkerchiefs. +"You've been standing so long," they observed, "that you must feel quite +tired. Do sit in this sunny place and have a little rest." + +P'ing Erh took a seat on the step. Two matrons attached to the tea-room +then fetched a rug and spread it out for her. "It's cold on those +stones," they ventured; "this is, as clean as it can be. So, miss, do +make the best of it, and use it!" + +P'ing Erh hastily forced a smile. "Many thanks," she replied. + +Another matron next brought her a cup of fine new tea. "This isn't the +tea we ordinarily drink," she quietly smiled. "This is really for +entertaining the young ladies with. Miss, pray moisten your mouth with +some." + +P'ing Erh lost no time in bending her body forward and taking the cup. +Then pointing at the company of married women, she observed in a low +voice: "You're all too fond of trouble! The way you're going on won't do +at all! She (T'an Ch'un) is only a young girl, so she is loth to show +any severity, or display any temper. This is because she's full of +respect. Yet you people look down on her and insult her. Should she, +however, be actually provoked into any violent fit of anger, people will +simply say that her behaviour was rather rough, and all will be over. +But as for you, you'll get at once into endless trouble. Even though she +might show herself somewhat wilful, Madame Wang treats her with +considerable forbearance, and lady Secunda too hasn't the courage to +meddle with her; and do you people have such arrogance as to look down +on her? This is certainly just as if an egg were to go and bang itself +against a stone!" + +"When were we ever so audacious?" the servants exclaimed with one voice. +"This fuss is all the work of Mrs. Chao!" + +"Never mind about that!" P'ing Erh urged again in an undertone. "My dear +ladies, 'when a wall falls, every one gives it a shove.' That Mrs. Chao +has always been rather topsy-turvey in her ways, and done things by +halves; so whenever there has been any rumpus, you've invariably shoved +the blame on to her shoulders. Never have you had any regard for any +single person. Your designs are simply awful! Is it likely that all +these years that I've been here, I haven't come to know of them? Had our +lady Secunda mismanaged things just a little bit, she would have long +ago been run down by every one of you, ladies! Even such as she is, you +would, could you only get the least opportunity, be ready to place her +in a fix! And how many, many times hasn't she been abused by you?" + +"She's dreadful," one and all of them rejoined. "You all live in fear +and trembling of her. But we know well enough that no one could say that +she too does not in the depths of her heart entertain some little dread +for the lot of you. The other day, we said, in talking matters over, +that things could not go on smoothly from beginning to end, and that +some unpleasantness was bound to happen. Miss Tertia is, it's true, a +mere girl, and you've always treated her with little consideration, but +out of that company of senior and junior young ladies, she is the only +soul whom our lady Secunda funks to some certain extent. And yet you +people now won't look up to her." + +So speaking Ch'iu Wen appeared to view. The married women ran up to her +and inquired after her health. "Miss," they said, "do rest a little. +They've had their meal served in there, so wait until things have been +cleared away, before you go and deliver your message." + +"I'm not like you people," Ch'iu Wen smiled. "How can I afford to wait?" + +With these words on her lips, she was about to go into the hall, when +P'ing Erh quickly called her back. Ch'iu Wen, upon turning her head +round, caught sight of P'ing Erh. "Have you too," she remarked with a +smile, "come here to become something like those guardians posted +outside the enclosing walls?" + +Retracing, at the same time, her footsteps, she took a seat on the rug, +occupied by P'ing Erh. + +"What message have you got to deliver?" P'ing Erh gently asked. + +"I've got to ask when we can get Pao-yue's monthly allowance and our own +too," she responded. + +"Is this any such pressing matter?" P'ing Erh answered. "Go back quick, +and tell Hsi Jen that my advice is that no concern whatever should be +brought to their notice to-day. That every single matter reported is +bound to be objected to; and that even a hundred will just as surely be +vetoed." + +"Why is it?" vehemently inquired Ch'iu Wen, upon hearing this +explanation. + +P'ing Erh and the other servants then promptly told her the various +reasons. "She's just bent," they proceeded, "upon finding a few weighty +concerns in order to establish, at the expense of any decent person who +might chance to present herself, a precedent of some kind or other so as +to fix upon a mode of action, which might help to put down expenses to +their proper level, and afford a lesson to the whole household; and why +are you people the first to come and bump your heads against the nails? +If you went now and told them your errand, it would also reflect +discredit upon our venerable old mistress and Madame Wang, were they to +pounce upon one or two matters to make an example of you. But if they +complied with one or two of your applications, others will again +maintain 'that they are inclined to favour this one and show partiality +to that one; that as you had your old mistress' and Madame Wang's +authority to fall back upon, they were afraid and did not presume to +provoke their displeasure; that they only avail themselves of +soft-natured persons to make scapegoats of.' Just mark my words! She +even means to raise objections in one or two matters connected with our +lady Secunda, in order to be the better able to shut up people's +mouths." + +Ch'iu Wen listened to her with patient ear; and then stretching out her +tongue, "It's lucky enough you were here, sister P'ing," she smiled; +"otherwise, I would have had my nose well rubbed on the ground. I shall +seize the earliest opportunity and give the lot of them a hint." + +While replying, she immediately rose to her feet and took leave of them. +Soon after her departure, Pao-ch'ai's eatables arrived, and P'ing Erh +hastened to enter and wait on her. By that time Mrs. Chao had left, so +the three girls seated themselves on the wooden bed, and went through +their repast. Pao-ch'ai faced the south. T'an Ch'un the west. Li Wan the +east. The company of married women stood quietly under the verandah +ready to answer any calls. Within the precincts of the chamber, only +such maids remained in waiting as had ever been their closest +attendants. None of the other servants ventured, of their own accord, to +put their foot anywhere inside. + +The married women (meanwhile) discussed matters in a confidential +whisper. "Let's do our downright best to save trouble," they argued. +"Don't let us therefore harbour any evil design, for even dame Wu will, +in that case, be placed in an awkward fix. And can we boast of any grand +honours to expect to fare any better?" + +While they stood on one side, and held counsel together, waiting for the +meal to be over to make their several reports, they could not catch so +much as the caw of a crow inside the rooms. Neither did the clatter of +bowls and chopsticks reach their ears. But presently, they discerned a +maid raise the frame of the portiere as high as she could, and two other +girls bring the table out. In the tea-room, three maids waited with +three basins in hand. The moment they saw the dining-table brought out, +all three walked in. But after a brief interval, they egressed with the +basins and rinsing cups. Shih Shu, Su Yuen and Ying Erh thereupon entered +with three covered cups of tea, placed in trays. Shortly however these +three girls also made their exit. Shih Shu then recommended a young maid +to be careful and attend to the wants (of their mistresses). "When we've +had our rice," she added, "we'll come and relieve you. But don't go +stealthily again and sit down!" + +The married women at length delivered their reports in a quiet and +orderly manner; and as they did not presume to be as contemptuous and +offhandish as they had been before, T'an Ch'un eventually cooled down. + +"I've got something of moment," she then observed to P'ing Erh, "about +which I would like to consult your mistress. Happily, I remembered it +just now, so come back as soon as you've had your meal. Miss Pao-ch'ai +is also here at present, so, after we four have deliberated together, +you can carefully ask your lady whether action is to be taken +accordingly or not." + +P'ing Erh acquiesced and returned to her quarters. "How is it," inquired +lady Feng, "that you've been away such an age?" + +P'ing Erh smiled and gave her a full account of what had recently +transpired. + +"What a fine, splendid girl Miss Tertia is!" she laughingly ejaculated. +"What I said was quite right! The only pity is that she should have had +such a miserable lot as not to have been born of a primary wife." + +"My lady, you're also talking a lot of trash!" P'ing Erh smiled. "She, +mayn't be Madame Wang's child, but is it likely that any one would be so +bold as to point the finger of scorn at her, and not treat her like the +others?" + +Lady Feng sighed. "How could you know everything?" she remarked. "She +is, of course, the offspring of a concubine, but as a mere girl, she +can't be placed on the same footing as a man! By and bye, when any one +aspires to her hand, the sort of supercilious parties, who now tread the +world, will, as a first step, ask whether this young lady is the child +of a No. 1 or No. 2 wife. And many of these won't have anything to say +to her, as she is the child, of a No. 2. But really people haven't any +idea that, not to speak of her as the offspring of a secondary wife, she +would be, even as a mere servant-girl of ours, far superior than the +very legitimate daughter of any family. Who, I wonder, will in the +future be so devoid of good fortune as to break off the match; just +because he may be inclined to pick and choose between a wife's child and +a concubine's child? And who, I would like to know, will be that lucky +fellow, who'll snatch her off without any regard to No. 1 and No. 2?" + +Continuing, she resumed, turning smilingly towards P'ing Erh, "You know +well enough how many ways and means I've had all these years to devise +in order to effect retrenchment, and how there isn't, I may safely aver, +a single soul in the whole household, who doesn't detest me behind my +back. But now that I'm astride on the tiger's back, (I must go on; for +if I put my foot on the ground, I shall be devoured). It's true, my +tactics have been more or less seen through, but there's no help for it; +I can't very well become more open-handed in a moment! In the second +place, much goes out at home, and little comes in; and the hundred and +one, large and small, things, which turn up, are still managed with that +munificence so characteristic of our old ancestors. But the funds, that +come in throughout the year, fall short of the immense sums of past +days. And if I try again to effect any savings people will laugh at me, +our venerable senior and Madame Wang suffer wrongs, and the servants +abhor me for my stinginess. Yet, if we don't seize the first opportunity +to think of some plan for enforcing retrenchment, our means will, in the +course of a few more years, be completely exhausted." + +"Quite so!" assented P'ing Erh. "By and bye, there will be three or four +daughters and two or three more sons added; and our old mistress won't +be able, singlehanded, to meet all this heavy outlay." + +"I myself entertain fears on the same score," lady Feng smiled. "But, +after all, there will be ample. For when Pao-yue and cousin Lin get +married, there won't be any need to touch a cent of public money, as our +old lady has her own private means, and she can well fork out some. Miss +Secunda is the child of your senior master yonder, and she too needn't +be taken into account. So there only remain three or four, for each of +whom one need only spend, at the utmost, ten thousand taels. Cousin Huan +will marry in the near future; and if an outlay of three thousand taels +prove insufficient, we will be able, by curtailing the bandoline, used +in those rooms for smoothing the hair with, make both ends meet. And +should our worthy senior's end come about, provision for everything is +already made. All that we'll have to do will be to spend some small sum +for a few miscellaneous trifles; and three to five thousand taels will +more than suffice. So with further economies at present, there will be +plenty for all our successive needs. The only fear is lest anything +occur at an unforeseen juncture; for then it will be dreadful! But don't +let us give way to apprehensions with regard to the future! You'd better +have your rice; and when you've done, be quick and go and hear what they +mean to treat about in their deliberations. I must now turn this +opportunity to the best account. I was only this very minute lamenting +that I had no help at my disposal. There's Pao-yue, it's true, but he too +is made of the same stuff as the rest of them in here. Were I even to +get him under my thumb, it would be of no earthly use whatever. Senior +lady is as good-natured as a joss; and she likewise is no good. Miss +Secunda is worse than useless. Besides, she doesn't belong to this +place. Miss Quarta is only a child. That young fellow Lan and Huan-erh +are, more than any of the others, like frozen kittens with frizzled +coats. They only wait to find some warm hole in a stove into which they +may poke themselves! Really from one and the same womb have been created +two human beings (T'an Ch'un and Chia Huan) so totally unlike each other +as the heavens are distant from the earth. But when I think of all this, +I feel quite angry! Again, that girl Lin and Miss Pao are both deserving +enough, but as they also happen to be our connexions, they couldn't very +well be put in charge of our family affairs. What's more, the one +resembles a lantern, decorated with nice girls, apt to spoil so soon as +it is blown by a puff of wind. The other has made up her mind not to +open her month in anything that doesn't concern her. When she's +questioned about anything, she simply shakes her head, and repeats +thrice: 'I don't know,' so that it would be an extremely difficult job +to go and ask her to lend a helping hand. There's only therefore Miss +Tertia, who is as sharp of mind as of tongue. She's besides a +straightforward creature in this household of ours and Madame Wang is +attached to her as well. It's true that she outwardly makes no display +of her feelings for her, but it's all that old thing Mrs. Chao, who has +done the mischief, for, in her heart, she actually holds her as dear as +she does Pao-yue. She's such a contrast to Huan-erh! He truly makes it +hard for any one to care a rap for him. Could I have had my own way, I +would long ere this have packed him out of the place. But since she +(T'au Ch'un) has now got this idea into her mind, we must cooperate with +her. For if we can afford each other a helping hand, I too won't be +single-handed and alone. And as far as every right principle, eternal +principle, and honesty of purpose go, we shall with such a person as a +helpmate, be able to save ourselves considerable anxiety, and Madame +Wang's interests will, on the other hand, derive every advantage. But, +as far as unfairness and bad faith go, I've run the show with too +malicious a hand, and I must turn tail and draw back from my old ways. +When I review what I've done, I find that if I still push my tyrannical +rule to the bitter end, people will hate me most relentlessly; so much +so, that under their smiles they'll harbour daggers, and much though we +two may then be able to boast of having four eyes and two heads between +us, they'll compass our ruin, when they can at any moment find us off +our guard. We should therefore make the best of this crisis, so that as +soon as she takes the initiative and sets things in order, all that +tribe of people may for a time lose sight of the bitter feelings they +cherish against us, for the way we've dealt with them in the past. But +there's another thing besides. I naturally know the great talents you +possess, but I feel mistrust lest you should, by your own wits, not be +able to bring things round. I enjoin these things then on you, now, for +although a mere girl she has everything at her fingers' ends. The only +thing is that she must try and be wary in speech. She's besides so much +better read than I am that she's a harder nut to crack. Now the proverb +says: 'in order to be able to catch the rebels, you must first catch +their chief.' So if she's at present disposed to mature some plan and +set to work to put it into practice, she'll certainly have to first and +foremost make a start with me. In the event consequently of her raising +objections to anything I've done, mind you don't begin any dispute with +her. The more virulent she is in her censure of me, the more deferential +you should be towards her. That's your best plan. And whatever you do, +don't imagine that I'm afraid of any loss of face. But the moment you +flare up with her, things won' go well......" + +P'ing Erh did not allow her time to conclude her argument. "You're too +much disposed to treat us as simpletons!" she smiled. "I've already +carried out your wishes, and do you now enjoin all these things on me?" + +Lady Feng smiled. "It's because," she resumed, "I feared lest you, who +have your eyes and mouth so full of me, and only me, might be inclined +to show no regard whatever for her, that's why. I couldn't, therefore, +but tender you the advice I did. But since you've already done what I +wanted you to do, you've shown yourself far sharper than I am. There's +nothing in this to drive you into another tantrum, and to make that +mouth of yours begin to chatter away so much about 'you and I,' 'you and +I' !" + +"I've actually addressed you as 'you' ;" P'ing Erh rejoined; "but if you +be displeased at it, isn't this a case of a slap on the mouth? You can +very well give me another one, for is it likely that this phiz of mine +hasn't as yet tasted any, pray?" + +"What a vixen you are!" lady Feng said smilingly. "How many faults will +you go on picking out, before you shut up? You see how ill I am, and yet +you come to rub me the wrong way. Come and sit down; for you and I can +at all events have our meal together when there is no one to break in +upon us. It's only right that we should." + +While these remarks dropped from her lips, Feng Erh and some three or +four other maids entered the room and laid the small stove-couch table. +Lady Feng only ate some birds' nests' soup and emptied two small plates +of some recherche light viands; for she had long ago temporarily reduced +her customary diet. + +Feng Erh placed the four kinds of eatables allotted to P'ing Erh on the +table. After which, she filled a bowl of rice for her. Then with one leg +bent on the edge of the stove-couch, while the other rested on the +ground, P'ing Erh kept lady Feng company during her repast; and waiting +on her, afterwards, until she finished rinsing her mouth, she issued +certain directions to Feng Erh, and crossed over at length to T'an +Ch'un's quarters. Here she found the courtyard plunged in perfect +stillness, for the various inmates, who had been assembled there, had +already taken their leave. + +But, reader, do you wish to follow up the story? If so, listen to the +circumstances detailed in the next chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + + The clever T'an Ch'un increases their income and removes long-standing + abuses. + The worthy Pao-ch'ai preserves intact, by the display of a little + intelligence, the great reputation enjoyed by the Chia family. + + +But let us pick up the clue of our story. P'ing Erh bore lady Feng +company during her meal; then attending to her, while she rinsed her +mouth and washed her hands, she betook herself eventually to T'an +Ch'un's quarters, where she discovered the courtyard in perfect +stillness. Not a soul was about beyond several maids, matrons and close +attendants of the inner rooms, who stood outside the windows on the +alert to obey any calls. P'ing Erh stepped into the hall. The two +cousins and their sister-in-law were all three engaged in discussing +some domestic affairs. They were talking about the feast, to which they +had been invited during the new year festivities by Lai Ta's wife, and +various details in connection with the garden she had in her place. But +as soon as she (P'ing Erh) appeared on the scene, T'an Ch'un desired her +to seat herself on her footstool. + +"What was exercising my mind," she thereupon observed, "confines itself +to this. I was computing that the head-oil, and rouge and powder, we use +during the course of a month, are also a matter of a couple of taels; +and I was thinking that what with the sum of two taels, already allotted +us every month, and the extra monthly amount given as well to the maids, +allowances are, with the addition again of that of eight taels for +school expenses, we recently spoke about, piled to be sure one upon +another. The thing is, it's true, a mere trifle, and the amount only a +bagatelle, but it doesn't seem to be quite proper. But how is it that +your mistress didn't take this into account?" + +P'ing Erh smiled. "There's a why and a wherefore," she answered. "All +the things required by you, young ladies, must absolutely be subject to +a fixed rule; for the different compradores have to lay in a stock of +each every month; and to send them to us by the maids to take charge of; +but purely and simply to keep in readiness for you to use. No such thing +could ever be tolerated as that each of us should have to get money +every day and try and hunt up some one to go and buy these articles for +us! That's how it is that the compradores outside receive a lump sum, +and that they send us, month by month, by the female servants the +supplies allotted for the different rooms. As regards the two taels +monthly allowed you, young ladies, they were not originally intended +that you should purchase any such articles with, but that you should, if +at any time the ladies in charge of the household affairs happened to be +away from home or to have no leisure, be saved the trouble of having to +go in search of the proper persons, in the event of your suddenly +finding yourselves in need of money. This was done simply because it was +feared that you would be subjected to inconvenience. But an unprejudiced +glance about me now shows me that at least half of our young mistresses +in the various quarters invariably purchase these things with ready +money of their own; so I can't help suspecting that, if it isn't a +question of the compradores shirking their duties, it must be that what +they buy is all mere rubbish." + +T'an Ch'un and Li Wan laughed. "You must have kept a sharp lookout to +have managed to detect these things!" they said. "But as for shirking +the purchases, they don't actually do so. It's simply that they're +behind time by a good number of days. Yet when one puts on the screw +with them, they get some articles from somewhere or other, who knows +where? These are however only a sham; for, in reality, they aren't fit +for use. But as they're now as ever obtained with cash down, a couple of +taels could very well be given to the brothers or sons of some of the +other people's nurses to purchase them with. They'll then be good for +something! Were we however to employ any of the public domestics in the +establishment, the things will be just as bad as ever. I wonder how they +do manage to get such utter rot as they do?" + +"The purchases of the compradores may be what they are," P'ing Erh +smiled; "but were anyone else to buy any better articles, the +compradores themselves won't ever forgive them. Besides other things, +they'll aver that they harbour evil designs, and that they wish to +deprive them of their post. That's how it comes about that the servants +would much rather give offence to you all inside, (by getting inferior +things), and that they have no desire to hurt the feelings of the +managers outside, (by purchasing anything of superior quality). But if +you, young ladies, requisition the services of the nurses, these men +won't have the arrogance to make any nonsensical remarks." + +"This accounts for the unhappy state my heart is in," T'an Ch'un +observed. "But as we're called upon to squander money right and left, +and as the things purchased are half of them uselessly thrown away, +wouldn't it, after all, be better for us to eliminate this monthly +allowance to the compradores? This is the first thing. The next I'd like +to ask you is this. When they went, during the new year festivities, to +Lai Ta's house, you also went with them; and what do think of that small +garden as compared with this of ours?" + +"It isn't half as big as ours," P'ing Erh laughingly explained. "The +trees and plants are likewise fewer by a good deal." + +"When I was having a chat with their daughter," T'an Ch'un proceeded, +"she said that, besides the flowers they wear, and the bamboo shoots, +vegetables, fish and shrimps they eat from this garden of theirs, +there's still enough every year for people to take over under contract, +and that at the close of each year there's a surplus in full of two +hundred taels. Ever since that day is it that I've become alive to the +fact that even a broken lotus leaf, and a blade of withered grass are +alike worth money." + +"This is, in very truth, the way wealthy and well-to-do people talk!" +Pao-ch'ai laughed. "But notwithstanding your honourable position, young +ladies, you really understand nothing about these concerns. Yet, haven't +you, with all your book-lore, seen anything of the passage in the +writing of Chu Fu-tzu: 'Throw not they self away?'" + +"I've read it, it's true," T'an Ch'un smiled, "but its object is simply +to urge people to exert themselves; it's as much empty talk as any +random arguments, and how could it be bodily treated as gospel?" + +"Chu-tzu's work all as much empty talk as any random arguments?" +Pao-ch'ai exclaimed. "Why every sentence in it is founded on fact. +You've only had the management of affairs in your hands for a couple of +days, and already greed and ambition have so beclouded your mind that +you've come to look upon Chu-tzu as full of fraud and falsehood. But +when you by and bye go out into the world and see all those mighty +concerns reeking with greed and corruption, you'll even go so far as to +treat Confucius himself as a fraud!" + +"Haven't you with all your culture read a book like that of Chi-tzu's?" +Pan Ch'un laughed. "Chi-tzu said in bygone days 'that when one descends +into the arena where gain and emoluments are to be got, and enters the +world of planning and plotting, one makes light of the injunctions of +Yao and Shun, and disregards the principles inculcated by Confucius and +Mencius.'" + +"What about the next line?" Pao-ch'ai insinuated with a significant +smile. + +"I now cut the text short," T'an Ch'un smilingly rejoined, "in order to +adapt the sense to what I want to say. Would I recite the following +sentence, and heap abuse upon my own self; is it likely I would; eh?" + +"There's nothing under the heavens that can't be turned to some use," +Pao-ch'ai added. "And since everything can be utilised, everything must +be worth money. But can it be that a person gifted with such +intelligence as yours can have had no experience in such great matters +and legitimate concerns as these?" + +"You send for a person," Li Wan laughingly interposed, 'and you don't +speak about what's right and proper, but you start an argument on +learning." + +"Learning is right and proper," Pao-ch'ai answered. "If we made no +allusion to learning, we'd all soon enough drift among the rustic herd!" + +The trio bandied words for a while, after which they turned their +attention again to pertinent affairs. + +T'an Ch'un took up once more the thread of the conversation. "This +garden of ours," she argued, "is only half as big as theirs, so if you +double the income they derive, you will see that we ought to reap a net +profit of four hundred taels a year. But were we also now to secure a +contract for our surplus products, the money, we'd earn, would, of +course, be a mere trifle and not one that a family like ours should +hanker after. And were we to depute two special persons (to attend to +the garden), the least permission given by them to any one to turn +anything to improper uses, would, since there be so many things of +intrinsic value, be tantamount to a reckless destruction of the gifts of +heaven. So would it not be preferable to select several quiet, steady +and experienced old matrons, out of those stationed in the grounds, and +appoint them to put them in order and look after things? Neither will +there be any need then to make them pay any rent, or give any taxes in +kind. All we can ask them is to supply the household with whatever they +can afford during the year. In the first place, the garden will, with +special persons to look after the plants and trees, naturally so improve +from year to year that there won't be any bustle or confusion, whenever +the time draws nigh to utilise the grounds. Secondly, people won't +venture to injure or uselessly waste anything. In the third place, the +old matrons themselves will, by availing themselves of these small +perquisites, not labour in the gardens year after year and day after day +all for no good. Fourthly, it will in like manner be possible to effect +a saving in the expenditure for gardeners, rockery-layers, sweepers and +other necessary servants. And this excess can be utilised for making up +other deficiencies. I don't see any reason why this shouldn't be +practicable!" + +Pao-ch'ai was standing below contemplating the pictures with characters +suspended on the walls. Upon hearing these suggestions, she readily +nodded her head assentingly and smiled. "Excellent!" she cried. "'Within +three years, there will be no more famines and dearths.'" + +"What a first-rate plan!" Li Wan chimed in. "This, if actually adopted, +will delight the heart of Madame Wang. Pecuniary economies are of +themselves a paltry matter; but there will be then in the garden those +to sweep the grounds, and those whose special charge will be to look +after them. Besides, were the persons selected allowed to turn up an +honest cash by selling part of the products, they will be so impelled by +a sense of their responsibilities, and prompted by a desire of gain that +there won't any longer be any who won't acquit themselves of their +duties to the fullest measure." + +"It remained for you, miss, to put these suggestions in words," P'ing +Erh remarked. "Our mistress may have entertained the idea, but it is by +no means certain that she thought it nice on her part to give utterance +to it. For as you, young ladies, live at present in the garden, she +could not possibly, unable as she is to supply such additional ornaments +as will make it more showy, contrariwise depute people to exercise +authority in it, and to keep it in order, with a view of effecting a +reduction in expenses. Such a proposal could never have dropped from her +lips." + +Pao-ch'ai advanced up to her with alacrity. Rubbing her face: "Open that +mouth of yours wide," she laughed, "and let me see of what stuff your +teeth and tongue are made! Ever since you put your foot out of bed this +morning you've jabbered away up to this very moment! And your song has +all been in one strain. For neither have you been very complimentary to +Miss Tertia, nor have you admitted that your mistress is, as far as wits +go, so much below the mark as to be unable to effect suitable provision. +Yet whenever Miss Tertia advanced any arguments, you've at once made use +of endless words to join issue with her. This is because the plan +devised by Miss Tertia was also hit upon by your lady Feng. But there +must surely have been a reason why she couldn't carry it into execution. +Again, as the young ladies have now their quarters in the garden, she +couldn't, with any decency, direct any one to go and rule over it, for +the mere sake of saving a few cash. Just consider this. If the garden is +actually handed to people to make profit out of it, the parties +interested will, of course, not even permit a single spray of flowers to +be plucked, and not a single fruit to be taken away. With such as come +within the category of senior young ladies, they won't naturally have +the audacity to be particular; but they'll daily have endless rows with +the junior girls. (Lady Feng) has, with her fears about the future and +her misgivings about the present, shown herself neither too overbearing +nor too servile. This mistress of theirs is not friendly disposed +towards us, but when she hears of her various proposals, shame might +induce her to turn over a new leaf." + +"Early this morning," T'an Ch'un laughingly observed, "I was very cross, +but as soon as I heard of her (P'ing Erh's) arrival, I casually +remembered that her mistress employed, during her time, such domestics +as were up to all kinds of larks, and at the sight of her, I got more +cross than ever. But, little though one would have thought it, she +behaved from the moment she came, like a rat that tries to get out of +the way of a cat. And as she had had to stand for ever so long, I pitied +her very much; but she took up the thread of the conversation, and went +on to spin that long yarn of hers. Yet, instead of mentioning that her +mistress treats me with every consideration, she, on the contrary, +observed: 'The kindness with which you have all along dealt with our +lady miss, has not been to no purpose.' This remark therefore not only +dispelled my anger, but filled me with so much shame that I began to +feel sore at heart. And, when I came to think carefully over the matter, +I failed to see how I, a mere girl, who had personally done so much +mischief that not a soul cared a straw for me and not a soul took any +interest in me, could possess any such good qualities as to treat any +one kindly...." + +When she reached this point, she could not check her tears from brimming +over. Li Wan and her associates perceived how pathetically she spoke; +and, recalling to mind bow Mrs. Chao had always run her down, and how +she had ever been involved in some mess or other with Madame Wang, on +account of this Mrs. Chao, they too found it difficult to refrain from +melting into sobs. But they then used their joint efforts to console +her. + +"Let's avail ourselves of this quiet day," they suggested, "to try and +find out how we could increase our revenue and remove abuses, so as not +to render futile the charge laid on us by Madame Wang. What use or +purpose is it to allude to such trivial matters?" + +"I've already grasped your object," P'ing Erh hastily ventured. "Miss, +speak out; who do you consider fit? And as soon as the proper persons +have been fixed upon, everything will be square enough." + +"What you say is all very well," T'an Ch'un rejoined, "but it will be +necessary to let your lady know something about it. It has never been +the proper thing for us in here to scrape together any small profits. +But as your mistress is full of gumption, I adopted the course I did. +Had she been at all narrowminded, with many prejudices and many +jealousies, I wouldn't have shown the least willingness in the matter. +But, as it will look as if I were bent upon pulling her to pieces, how +can I take action without consulting her?" + +"In that case," P'ing Erh smiled, "I'll go and tell her something about +it." + +With this response, she went on the errand; and only returned after a +long lapse of time. "I said," she laughed, "that it would be perfectly +useless for me to go. How ever could our lady not readily accede to an +excellent proposal like this?" + +Hearing this, T'an Ch'un forthwith joined Li Wan in directing a servant +to ask for the roll, containing the names of the matrons in the garden, +and bring it to them. When produced, they all held council together, and +fixing cursorily upon several persons, they summoned them to appear +before them. Li Wan then explained to them the general outline of their +duties; and not one was there among the whole company, who listened to +her, who would not undertake the charge. One said: "If you confide that +bamboo tree for twelve months to my care, it will again next year be a +single tree, but besides the shoots, which will have been eaten at home, +I shall be able, in the course of the year, to also pay in some money." +"Hand me over," another one remarked, "that portion of paddy field, and +there will, during the year, be no need to touch any public funds on +account of the various birds, large and small, which are kept for mere +fun. Besides that, I shall be in a position to give in something more." + +T'an Ch'un was about to pass a remark when a servant reported that the +doctor had come; and that he had entered the garden to see Miss Shih. So +the matrons were obliged to go and usher the doctor in. + +"Were there a hundred of you here," promptly expostulated P'ing Erh, +"you wouldn't know what propriety means! Are there perchance no couple +of housekeepers about to push themselves forward and see the doctor in?" + +"There's dame Wu and dame T'an," the servant, who brought the message, +replied. "The two are on duty at the south-west corner at the +'accumulated splendour' gate." + +At this answer, P'ing Erh allowed the subject to drop. + +After the departure of the matrons, T'an Ch'un inquired of Pao-ch'ai +what she thought of them. + +"Such as are diligent at the outset," Pao-ch'ai answered smiling, +"become remiss in the end; and those who have a glib tongue have an eye +to gain." + +T'an Ch'un listened to her reply; and nodding her head, she extolled its +wisdom. Then showing them with her finger several names on the list, she +submitted them for the perusal of the trio. P'ing Erh speedily went and +fetched a pen and inkslab. + +"This old mother Chu," the trio observed, "is a trustworthy woman. +What's more, this old dame and her sons have generation after generation +done the sweeping of the bamboo groves. So let's now place the various +bamboo trees under her control. This old mother T'ien was originally a +farmer, and everything in the way of vegetables and rice, in and about +the Tao Hsiang village, should, albeit they couldn't, planted as they +are as a mere pastime, be treated in such earnest as to call for large +works and extensive plantations, be entrusted to her care; for won't +they fare better if she can be on the spot and tend them with extra +diligence at the proper times and seasons?" + +"What a pity it is," T'an Ch'un proceeded smilingly, "that two places so +spacious as the Heng Wu garden and the I Hung court bring no grit to the +mill." + +"Things in the Heng Wu garden are in a worse state," Li Wan hastily +interposed. "Aren't the scented wares and scented herbs sold at present +everywhere in perfumery shops, large fairs and great temples the very +counterpart of these things here? So if you reckon up, you will find how +much greater a return these articles will give than any other kind of +product. As for the I Hung court, we needn't mention other things, but +only take into account the roses that bud during the two seasons of +spring and summer; to how many don't they amount in all? Besides these, +we've got along the whole hedge, cinnamon roses and monthly roses, stock +roses, honey-suckle and westeria. Were these various flowers dried and +sold to the tea and medicine shops, they'd also fetch a good deal of +money." + +"Quite so!" T'an Ch'un acquiesced with a smile. "The thing is that +there's no one with any notion how to deal with scented herbs." + +"There's Ying Erh who waits on Miss Pao-ch'ai," P'ing Erh promptly +smiled. "Her mother is well-versed in these things. It was only the +other day that she plucked a few, and plaited them, after drying them +well in the sun, into a flower-basket and a gourd, and gave them to me +to play with. But miss can you have forgotten all about it?" + +"I was this very minute speaking in your praise," Pao-ch'ai observed +smiling, "and do you come to chaff me?" + +"What makes you say so?" exclaimed the trio, in utter astonishment. + +"It will on no account do," Pao-ch'ai added. "You employ such a lot of +people in here that they all lead a lazy life and have nothing to put a +hand to, and were I also now to introduce some more, that tribe will +look even upon me with utter contempt. But let me think of some one for +you. There's in the I Hung court, an old dame Yeh; she's Pei Ming's +mother. That woman is an honest old lady; and is furthermore on the best +of terms with our Ying Erh's mother. So wouldn't it be well were this +charge given to this dame Yeh? Should there even be anything that she +doesn't know, there'll be no necessity for us to tell her. She can go +straightway and consult with Ying Erh's mother. And if she can't attend +to everything herself, it won't matter to whom she relegates some of her +duties. These will be purely private favours. In the event too of any +one making any mean insinuations, the blame won't fall on our shoulders. +By adopting this course, you'll be managing things in such a way as to +do extreme justice to all; and the trust itself will also be placed on a +most satisfactory footing." + +"Excellent!" ejaculated Li Wan and P'ing Erh simultaneously. + +"This may be well and good," T'an Ch'un laughed, "but the fear is that +at the sight of gain, they'll forget all about propriety." + +"That's nothing to do with us!" P'ing Erh rejoined a smile playing, +about her lips. "It was only the other day that Ying Erh recognised dame +Yeh as her adopted mother, and invited her to eat and drink with them, +so that the two families are on the most intimate terms." + +At this assurance, T'an Ch'un relinquished the topic of conversation, +and, holding council together, they selected several persons, all of +whom the four had ever viewed with impartial favour and they marked off +their names, by dotting them with a pen. + +In a little while, the matrons came to report that 'the doctor had +gone;' and they handed the prescription. Their three mistresses then +perused its contents. On the one hand, they despatched domestics to take +it outside, so that the drugs should be got, and to superintend their +decoction. On the other, T'an Ch'un and Li Wan explicitly explained to +the various servants chosen what particular place each had to look +after. "Exclusive," they added, "of what fixed custom requires for home +consumption during the four seasons, you are still at liberty to pluck +whatever remains and have it taken away. As for the profits, we'll +settle accounts at the close of the year." + +"I've also bethought myself of something," T'an Ch'un smiled. "If the +settlement of accounts takes place at the end of the year, the money +will, at the time of delivery, be naturally paid into the accountancy. +Those high up will then as usual add a whole lot of controllers; and +these will, on their part, fleece their own share as soon as the money +gets into the palms of their hand. But as by this system, we've now +initiated, you've been singled out for appointment, you've already +ridden so far above their heads, that they foster all sorts of animosity +against you. They don't, however, give vent to their feelings; but if +they don't seize the close of the year, when you have to deliver your +accounts, to play their tricks on you, for what other chances will they +wait? Moreover, they obtain, in everything that comes under their +control during the year, half of every share their masters get. This is +an old custom. Every one is aware of its existence. But this is a new +regime I now introduce in this garden, so don't let the money find its +way into their hands! Whenever the annual settling of accounts arrives, +bring them in to us." + +"My idea is," Pao-ch'ai smilingly suggested, "that no accounts need be +handed even inside. This one will have a surplus, that one a deficit, so +that it will involve no end of trouble; wouldn't it be better therefore +if we were to find out who of them would take over this or that +particular kind and let them purvey the various things? These are for +the exclusive use of the inmates of the garden; and I've already made an +estimate of them for you. They amount to just a few sorts, and simply +consist of head-oil, rouge, powder and scented paper; in all of which, +the young ladies and maids are subject to a fixed rule. Then, besides +these, there are the brooms, dust-baskets and poles, wanted in different +localities, and the food for the large and small animals and birds, and +the deer and rabbits. These are the only kinds of things required. And +if they contract for them, there'll be little need for any one to go to +the accountancy for money. But just calculate what a saving will thus be +effected!" + +"All these items are, I admit, mere trifles," P'ing Erh smiled, "but if +you lump together what's used during a year, you will find that a saving +of four hundred taels will be effected." + +"Again!" smilingly remarked Pao-ch'ai, "it would be four hundred taels +in one year; but eight hundred taels in two years; and with these, we +could purchase a few more houses and let them; and in the way of poor, +sandy land we could also add several acres to those we've already got. +'There will, of course, still remain a surplus; but as they will have +ample trouble and inconvenience to put up with during the year, they +should also be allowed some balance in hand so as to make up what's +wanted for themselves. The main object is, of course, to increase +profits and curtail expenses, yet we couldn't be stingy to any excessive +degree. In fact, were we even able to make any further economy of over +two or three hundred taels, it would never be the proper thing; should +this involve a breach of the main principles of decorum. With this +course duly put into practice, outside, the accountancy will issue in +one year four or five hundred taels less, without even the semblance of +any parsimony; while, inside, the matrons will obtain, on the other +hand, some little thing to supply their wants with; the nurses, who have +no means of subsistence, will likewise be placed in easy circumstances; +and the plants and trees in the garden will year by year increase in +strength and grow more abundantly. In this wise, you too will have such +articles as will be fit for use. So that this plan will, to some extent, +not constitute a breach of the high principles of propriety. And if ever +we want to retrench a little more from where won't we be able to get +money? But if the whole balance, if any, be put to the credit of the +public fund, every one, inside as well as outside, will fill the streets +with the din of murmurings! And won't this be then a slur upon the code +of honour of a household such as yours? So were any charge to be +entrusted to this one, out of the several tens of old nurses at present +employed in the garden, and not to that one, the remainder will +naturally resent such injustice. As I said a while back all that these +women will have to provide among themselves amounts to a few articles, +so they will unavoidably have ample means. Hence each should be told to +contribute, beyond the articles that fall to her share during the year, +a certain number of tiaos, whether she may or may not realise any +balance, and then jointly lump these sums together, and distribute them +among those nurses only on service in the garden. For although they may +not have anything to do with the control of these things, they +themselves will have to stay in the grounds, to keep an eye over the +servants on duty, to shut the doors, to close the windows and to get up +early and retire late. Whenever it rains in torrents or it snows hard +and chairs have to be carried, for you, young ladies, to go out and come +in; or boats have to be punted, and sledges drawn, these rough and +arduous duties come alike within their sphere of work. They have to +labour in the garden from one year's end to the other, and though, they +earn something in those grounds, it's only right that they should able +to get some small benefits in the discharge of their legitimate duties. +But there's another most trivial point that I would broach with less +reserve. If you only think of your ease, and don't share the profits +with them, they will, of course, never presume to show their +displeasure, but in their hearts they won't cherish you any good +feeling. What they'll do will be to make public business a pretext to +serve their own private ends with; they'll pluck more of your fruits +than they should; and cut greater quantities of your flowers than they +ought. And you people will have a grievance, but you won't have anywhere +to go and confide it. But should they too reap some gain, they'll +readily look after such things on your behalf as you won't have the time +to attend to." + +The matrons listened to her explanations; (and finding that) they would +be removed from the control of the accountancy, that they would not be +compelled to go and settle accounts with lady Feng, and that all that +they would be called upon to do every year would be to supply a few more +tiaos, were each and all delighted to an exceptional degree. So much so, +that every one of them exclaimed in a chorus that they were quite +prepared to agree to the terms. "It is better," they said, "than to be +obliged to go out and be squeezed by them; and to have to fork out our +own money as well." + +Those too not entrusted with the care of any portion of land were also +highly elated, when they heard that at the close of each year they +would, though they had no valid claim, come in for some share of hard +cash. + +"They'll have to bear the trouble," they however argued, "to keep things +in order, so it's only right that they should be left with a few cash to +meet their various wants with; and how could we very well gobble our +three meals without doing a stroke of work?" + +"Worthy dames," Pao-ch'ai smiled, "you mustn't decline. These duties are +within your province and you should fulfil them. All you need do is to +exert yourselves a bit by day and night, and not be so remiss and +careless as to suffer any of the servants to drink and gamble; that's +all. Otherwise, I myself must have nothing to do with the control. But +you, yourselves, know well enough that it's my aunt who appealed to me +with her own lips three and five times to do it as a favour to her. +'Your eldest sister-in-law,' she represented, 'has at present no +leisure, and the other girls are young,' and then she asked me to look +after things. So if I now don't accede, it's as clear as day that I +shall be the cause of much worry to my aunt. Our lady Feng herself is +seriously ill, and our domestic affairs can't hang fire. I'm really with +nothing to do, so were even a mere neighbour to solicit my help, I would +also feel bound to lend her a hand in her pressure of work. How much +more therefore when it's my own aunt, who invokes my aid? Setting aside +the way I'm execrated by one and all, how would I ever be able to stare +my aunt in the face, if, while I gave my sole mind to winning fame and +fishing for praise, any one got so intoxicated and lost so much in +gambling as to stir up trouble? At such a juncture remorse on your part +will be too late! Even the old reputation you have ever enjoyed will +entirely be lost and gone. Those young ladies and girls and this vast +garden are alike placed under your supervision, purely and simply +because one takes into account that you have been nurses to three or +four generations and that you have most scrupulously observed the rules +of etiquette and propriety. It's but fair that you should try, with one +mind, and show some little regard for what's right and proper. But if +you contrariwise behave with such laxity as to let people gratify their +wishes by guzzling and gambling, and my aunt comes to hear of these nice +doings, a little scolding from her will be of little consequence. But if +the various women, who attend to the household, get scent of the state +of affairs, they will haul you over the coals, without even so much as +breathing one single word beforehand to my aunt. And venerable people, +though you are, you will then, instead of tendering advice to young +people, be called to account by them. As housekeepers, they exercise, +it's true, authority over you; but why shouldn't you yourselves observe +a certain amount of decorum? And if you do so, will they have any +occasion to bully you? The reason why I've now bethought myself of this +special boon for you is that you should unanimously strain every nerve +to diligently attend to the garden, in order that the powers that be +may, at the sight of your unrelenting care and zeal, have no cause to +give way to solicitude. And won't they inwardly look up to you with +regard? Neither will you render of no effect the various benefits +devised for them. But go now and minutely ponder over all my advice!" + +All the women received her words with gratification. "What you say is +quite right," they replied. "From this time forth you, miss, and you, +our lady, can well compose your minds. With the interest both of you +feel on our behalf, may heaven and earth not spare us, if we do not +display a full amount of gratitude for all your kindnesses." + +These assurances were still being uttered when they saw Lin Chih-hsiao's +wife walk in. "The family of the Chen mansion of Chiang Nan," she +explained, "arrived in the capital yesterday. To-day, they're going into +the palace to offer their congratulations. But they've now sent +messengers ahead to come and bring presents and pay their respects." + +While she spoke, she produced the list of presents and handed it up. +T'an Ch'un took it over from her. "They consist," she said, perusing it, +"of twelve rolls of brocades and satins embroidered with dragons, such +as are for imperial use; twelve rolls of satins of various colours, of +the kind worn by the Emperor; twelve rolls of every sort of imperial +gauze; twelve rolls of palace silks of the quality used by his majesty; +and twenty rolls of satins, gauzes, silks and thin silks of different +colours, generally worn by officials." + +After glancing over the list, Li Wan and T'an Ch'un suggested that a +first-class tip should be given to the messengers who brought them, +after which, they went on to direct a servant to convey the tidings to +dowager lady Chia. + +Old lady Chia gave orders to call Li Wan, T'an Ch'un, Pao-ch'ai and the +other girls. On their arrival, the presents were passed under review; +and this over, Li Wan put them aside. "You must wait," she said to the +servants of the inner store-room, "until Madame Wang comes back and sees +them; you can then lock them up." + +"This Chen family too," old lady Chia thereupon added, "isn't like any +other family; the highest tips should therefore be conferred upon the +men. But as in a twinkle, they may also send some of their womankind to +come and make their obeisance, silks should be got ready in +anticipation." + +Scarcely was this remark concluded before a domestic actually announced: +'that four ladies of the Chen mansion had come to pay their respects.' + +Upon hearing this, dowager lady Chia hastily directed that they should +be introduced into her presence. The four women ranged from forty years +and over. Their clothing and head-gear were not, in any material degree, +different from those of mistresses. As soon as they presented their +compliments and inquired about their healths, old lady Chia desired that +four footstools should be moved forward. But though the four women +thanked her for bidding them sit down, they only occupied the stools, +after Pao-ch'ai had seated herself. + +"When did you enter the capital?" old lady Chia inquired. + +The four women jumped to their feet with alacrity. "We entered the +capital yesterday," they answered. "Our lady has taken our young lady +today into the palace to pay their homage. That's why she bade us come +and give you their compliments, and see how the young ladies are getting +on." + +"You hadn't paid a visit to the capital for ever so many years," dowager +lady Chia smilingly observed, "and here you appear now quite +unexpectedly!" + +The four women simultaneously smiled again. "Quite so!" they said. "We +received this year imperial orders, summoning us to the capital!" + +"Has the whole family come?" old lady Chia asked. + +"Our old mistress, our young master, the two young ladies and the other +ladies haven't come up," the four women explained. "Only our lady has +come, together with Miss Tertia." + +"Is she engaged to any one?" old lady Chia asked. + +"Not yet," rejoined the quartet. + +"The two families, that of your senior married lady and that of your +lady Secunda are both on most intimate terms with ours," dowager lady +Chia smilingly added. + +"Yes, they are," replied the four women with a smile. "The letters +received each year from our young ladies, assure us that they're +entirely dependent upon the kindness bestowed upon them, in your worthy +mansion, for their well-being." + +"What kindness?" old lady Chia exclaimed laughingly. "These two families +are really friends of long standing. In addition to this, they're old +relatives. So what we do is our simple bounden duty. What's more in the +favour of your two young ladies is, that they're not full of their own +importance. That's how it is that we've come to be on such close terms." + +The four women smiled. "This is mainly due to your venerable ladyship's +excessive humility," they answered. + +"Is that young gentleman of yours too with your old mistress?" old lady +Chia went on to inquire. + +"Yes, he has also come with our old mistress," the four women retorted. + +"How old is he?" old lady Chia then asked. "Does he go to school?" she +afterwards inquired. + +"He's thirteen this year," the four women said by way of response. "But +all through those good looks of his, our old mistress cherishes him so +fondly that from his youth up, he has been wayward to the extreme, and +that he now daily plays the truant. But our master and mistress as well +don't keep any great check over him." + +"Yet, he can't resemble that young fellow of ours," old lady Chia +laughed. "What's the name of your young gentleman?" + +"As our old mistress treats him just like a real precious gem," the +quartet explained, "and as his complexion is naturally so white, her +ladyship calls him Pao-yue." + +"Here's another one with the name of Pao-yue!" old lady Chia laughingly +said to Li Wan. + +Li Wan and her companions hastily made a curtsey. "There have been, from +old times to the present," they smiled, "very many among contemporaries +and persons of different generations as well, who have borne duplicate +names." + +The four women also smiled. "After the selection of this infant name," +they proceeded, "we all, both high or low, began to give way to +surmises, as we could not make out in what relative's or friend's family +there was a lad also called by the same name. But as we hadn't come to +the capital for ten years or so, we couldn't remember." + +"That young fellow is my grandson," dowager lady Chia remarked. "Hallo! +some one come here!" + +The married women and maids assented and approached several steps. + +"Go into the garden," old lady Chia smilingly said, "and call our Pao-yue +here, so that these four housekeeping dames should see how he compares +with their own Pao-yue." + +The married women, upon hearing her orders, promptly went off. After a +while, they entered the room pressing round Pao-yue. The moment the four +dames caught sight of him, they speedily rose to their feet. "He has +given us such a start!" they exclaimed smilingly. "Had we not come into +your worthy mansion, and perchance, met him, elsewhere, we would have +taken him for our own Pao-yue, and followed him as far as the capital." + +While speaking they came forward and took hold of his hands and assailed +him with questions. + +Pao-yue however also put on a smile and inquired after their healths. + +"How do his looks compare with those of your young gentleman?" dowager +lady Chia asked as she smiled. + +"The way the four dames ejaculated just now," Li Wan and her companions +explained, "was sufficient to show how much they resemble in looks." + +"How could there ever he such a coincidence?" old lady Chia laughed. +"Yet, the children of wealthy families are so delicately nurtured that +unless their faces are so deformed as to make them downright ugly, +they're all equally handsome, as far as general appearances go. So +there's nothing strange in this!" + +"As we gaze at his features," the quartet added, with smiling faces, "we +find him the very image of him; and from what we gather from your +venerable ladyship, he's also like him in waywardness. But, as far as we +can judge, this young gentleman's disposition is ever so much better +than that of ours." + +"What makes you think so?" old lady Chia precipitately inquired. + +"We saw it as soon as we took hold of the young gentleman's hands," the +four women laughingly rejoined, "and when he spoke to us. Had it been +that fellow of ours, he would have simply called us fools. Not to speak +of taking his hand in ours, why we daren't even slightly move any of his +things. That's why, those who wait on him are invariably young girls." + +Before the four dames had time to conclude what they had to say, Li Wan +and the rest found it so hard to check themselves that with one voice +they burst into loud laughter. + +Old lady Chia also laughed. "Let's also send some one now," she said, +"to have a look at your Pao-yue. When his hand is taken, he too is sure +to make an effort to put up with it. But don't you know that children of +families such as yours and mine are bound, notwithstanding their +numerous perverse and strange defects, to return the orthodox +civilities, when they come across any strangers. But should they not +return the proper civilities, they should, by no manner of means, be +suffered to behave with such perverseness. It's the way that grown-up +people doat on them that makes them what they are. And as they can, +first and foremost, boast of bewitching good looks and they comport +themselves, secondly, towards visitors with all propriety--, in fact, +with less faulty deportment than their very seniors--, they manage to +win the love and admiration of such as only get a glimpse of them. Hence +it is that they're secretly indulged to a certain degree. But if they +don't show the least regard to any one inside or outside, and so reflect +no credit upon their parents, they deserve, with all their handsome +looks, to be flogged to death." + +These sentiments evoked a smile from the four dames. "Your words +venerable lady," they exclaimed, "are quite correct. But though our +Pao-yue be wilful and strange in his ways, yet, whenever he meets any +visitors, he behaves with courteousness and good manners; so much so, +that he's more pleasing to watch than even grown-up persons. There is no +one, therefore, who sees him without falling in love with him. But +you'll say: 'why is he then beaten?' You really aren't aware that at +home he has no regard either for precept or for heaven; that he comes +out with things that never suggest themselves to the imagination of +grown-up people, and that he does everything that takes one by surprise. +The result is that his father and mother are driven to their wits' ends. +But wilfulness is natural to young children. Reckless expenditure is a +common characteristic of young men. Antipathy to school is a common +feeling with young people. Yet there are ways and means to bring him +round. The worse with him is that his disposition is so crotchety and +whimsical. Can this ever do?...." + +This reply was barely ended when a servant informed them that their +mistress had returned. Madame Wang entered the room, and saluted the +women. The four dames paid their obeisance to her. But they had just had +sufficient time to pass a few general observations, when dowager lady +Chia bade them go and rest. Madame Wang then handed the tea in person +and withdrew from the apartment. But when the four dames got up to say +good-bye, old lady Chia adjourned to Madame Wang's quarters. After a +chat with her on domestic affairs, she however told the women to go +back; so let us put them by without any further allusion to them. + +During this while, old lady Chia's spirits waxed so high, that she told +every one and any one she came across that there was another Pao-yue, and +that he was, in every respect, the very image of her grandson. + +But as each and all bore in mind that there were many inmates among the +large households of those officials with official ancestors, called by +the same names, that it was an ordinary occurrence for a grandmother to +be passionately fond of her grandson, and that there was nothing +out-of-the-way about it, they treated the matter as of no significance. +Pao-yue alone however was such a hair-brained simpleton that he +conjectured that the statements made by the four dames had been intended +to flatter his grandmother Chia. + +But subsequently he betook himself into the garden to see how Shih +Hsiang-yuen was getting on. + +"Compose your mind now," Shih Hsiang-yuen then said to him, "and go on +with your larks! Once, you were as lonely as a single fibre, which can't +be woven into thread, and like a single bamboo, which can't form a +grove, but now you've found your pair. When you exasperate your parents, +and they give you beans, you'll be able to bolt to Nanking in quest of +the other Pao-yue." + +"What utter rubbish!" Pao-yue exclaimed. "Do you too believe that there's +another Pao-yue?" + +"How is it," Hsiang-yuen asked, "that there was some one in the Lieh +state called Lin Hsiang-ju, and that during the Han dynasty there lived +again another person, whose name was Ssu Ma Hsiang-ju?" + +"This matter of names is all well enough," Pao-yue rejoined with a smile. +"But as it happens, his very appearance is the counterpart of mine. Such +a thing could never be!" + +"How is it," Hsiang-yuen inquired, "that when the K'uang people saw +Confucius, they fancied it was Yang Huo?" + +"Confucius and Yang Huo," Pao-yue smilingly argued, "may have been alike +in looks, but they hadn't the same names. Lin and Ssu were again, +notwithstanding their identical names, nothing like each other in +appearances. But can it ever be possible that he and I should resemble +each other in both respects?" + +Hsiang-yuen was at a loss what reply to make to his arguments. "You may," +she consequently remarked smiling, "propound any rubbish you like, I'm +not in the humour to enter into any discussion with you. Whether there +be one or not is quite immaterial to me. It doesn't concern me at all." + +Saying this, she lay herself down. + +Pao-yue however began again to exercise his mind with further surmises. +"If I say," he cogitated, "that there can't be one, there seems from all +appearances to be one. And if I say that there is one, I haven't, on the +other hand, seen him with my own eyes." + +Sad and dejected he returned therefore to his quarters, and reclining on +his couch, he silently communed with his own thoughts until he +unconsciously became drowsy and fell fast asleep. + +Finding himself (in his dream) in some garden or other, Pao-yue was +seized with astonishment. "Besides our own garden of Broad Vista," he +reflected, "is there another such garden?" But while indulging in these +speculations, several girls, all of whom were waiting-maids, suddenly +made their appearance from the opposite direction. Pao-yue was again +filled with surprise. "Besides Yuean Yang, Hsi Jen and P'ing Erh," he +pondered, "are there verily such maidens as these?" + +"Pao-yue!" he heard that company of maids observe, with faces beaming +with smiles, "how is it you find yourself in here?" + +Pao-yue laboured under the impression that they were addressing him. With +hasty step, he consequently drew near them, and returned their smiles. +"I got here," he answered, "quite listlessly. What old family friend's +garden is this, I wonder? But sisters, pray, take me for a stroll." + +The maids smiled with one consent. "Really!" they exclaimed, "this isn't +our Pao-yue. But his looks too are spruce and nice; and he is as +precocious too with his tongue." + +Pao-yue caught their remarks. "Sisters!" he eagerly cried, "is there +actually a second Pao-yue in here?" + +"As for the two characters 'Pao-yue,'" the maids speedily explained, +"every one in our house has received our old mistress' and our mistress' +injunctions to use them as a spell to protract his life for many years +and remove misfortune from his path, and when we call him by that name, +he simply goes into ecstasies, at the very mention of it. But you, young +brat, from what distant parts of the world do you hail that you've +recklessly been also dubbed by the same name? But beware lest we pound +that frowzy flesh of yours into mincemeat." + +"Let's be off at once!" urged another maid, as she smiled. "Don't let +our Pao-yue see us here and say again that by hobnobbing with this +stinking young fellow, we've been contaminated by all his pollution." + +With these words on her lips, they straightway walked off. + +Pao-yue fell into a brown study. "There's never been," he mused, "any one +to treat me with such disdain before! But what is it, in fact, that +induces them to behave towards me in this manner? May it not be true +that there lives another human being the very image of myself?" + +While lost in reverie, he advanced with heedless step, until he reached +a courtyard. Pao-yue was struck with wonder. "Is there actually," he +cried, "besides the I Hung court another court like it?" Spontaneously +then ascending the steps, he entered an apartment, in which he discerned +some one reclining on a couch. On the off side sat several girls, busy +at needlework; now laughing joyfully; now practising their jokes; when +he overheard the young person on the couch heave a sigh. + +"Pao-yue," smilingly inquired a maid, "what, aren't you asleep? What are +you once more sighing for? I presume it's because your sister is ill +that you abandon yourself again to idle fears and immoderate anguish!" + +These words fell on Pao-yue's ears, and took him quite aback. + +"I've heard grandmother say," he overheard the young person on the couch +observe, "that there lives at Ch'ang An, the capital, another Pao-yue +endowed with the same disposition as myself. I never believed what she +told me; but I just had a dream, and in this dream I found myself in a +garden of the metropolis where I came across several maidens; all of +whom called me a 'stinking young brat,' and would have nothing whatever +to do with me. But after much difficulty, I succeeded in penetrating +into his room. He happened to be fast asleep. There he lay like a mere +bag of bones. His real faculties had flown somewhere or other; whither +it was hard for me to say." + +Hearing this, "I've come here," Pao-yue said with alacrity, "in search of +Pao-yue; and are you, indeed, that Pao-yue?" + +The young man on the couch jumped down with all haste and enfolded him +in his arms. "Are you verily Pao-yue?" he laughingly asked. "This isn't +by any means such stuff as dreams are made of!" + +"How can you call this a dream?" Pao-yue rejoined. "It's reality, yea, +nothing but reality!" + +But scarcely was this rejoinder over, than he heard some one come, and +say: "our master, your father, wishes to see you, Pao-yue." + +The two lads started with fear. One Pao-yue rushed off with all despatch. +The other promptly began to shout, "Pao-yue! come back at once! Pao-yue; +be quick and return!" + +Hsi Jen, who stood by (Pao-yue), heard him call out his own name, in his +dreams, and immediately gave him a push and woke him up. "Where is +Pao-yue gone to?" she laughed. + +Although Pao-yue was by this time aroused from sleep, his senses were as +yet dull, so pointing towards the door, "He's just gone out," he +replied, "he's not far off." + +Hsi Jen laughed. "You're under the delusion of a dream," she said. "Rub +your eyes and look carefully! It's your reflection in the mirror." + +Pao-yue cast a glance in front of him, and actually caught sight of the +large inlaid mirror, facing him quite opposite, so he himself burst out +laughing. But, presently, a maid handed him a rince-bouche and tea and +salt, and he washed his mouth. + +"Little wonder is it," She Yueeh ventured, "if our old mistress has +repeatedly enjoined that it isn't good to have too many mirrors about in +young people's rooms, for as the spirit of young persons is not fully +developed there is every fear, with mirrors casting their reflections +all over the place, of their having wild dreams in their sleep. And is a +bed now placed before that huge mirror there? When the covers of the +mirrors are let down, no harm can befall; but as the season advances, +and the weather gets hot, one feels so languid and tired, that is one +likely to think of dropping them? Just as it happened a little time +back; it slipped entirely from your memory. Of course, when he first got +into bed, he must have played with his face towards the glass; but upon +shortly closing his eyes, he must naturally have fallen into such +confused dreams, that they thoroughly upset his rest. Otherwise, how is +it possible that he should have started shouting his own name? Would it +not be as well if the bed were moved inside to-morrow? That's the proper +place for it." + +Hardly had she, however, done, before they perceived a servant, sent by +Madame Wang to call Pao-yue. But what she wanted to tell him is not yet +known, so, reader, listen to the circumstances recorded in the +subsequent chapter. + + +END OF BOOK II. + + +[transcriber's note: The second volume of this translation ends thus, +and no more of it was ever published.] + +ERRATA + +[original book lists no errata; these were found during Project +Gutenberg proofreading. The format is imitated from the list actually +appearing at the end of volume I. If a word is split across a line or +page then the line or page given is that on which the erroneous part of +the word appears. + +On several occasions the book uses nested double quotes. One person, +speaking, quotes another person, speaking. "This example," the +proofreader said, "is of when my friend told me, "Don't take any wooden +nickels." So I have always been careful." When these were found, the +inner quotes were changed to single quotes for increased clarity. Such +changes are not noted in the errata. A few other corrections to +punctuation are noted below, but most are not. + +The following are not misspellings: "dumfoundered" "parricide" "nobble" +"finicking". "shewing" was very moldy at the time this was written but +still not deceased. The Oxford English Dictionary, Second Edition, was +used as the authority for spellings. I don't know about "per mensem" +Chapter XXXVI page 180, line 18. I don't know about "titify" Chapter +XL page 258, line 21. ] + + + + Chap. XXV Page 8 Line 29: doesn't _not_ does'nt + XXVII " 37 " 10: peccadilloes _not_ peccadiloes + XXVIII " 64 " 6: on _not_ ou + XXVIII " 67 " 19: enumeration _not_ enuneration + XXX " 95 " 29: them," _not_ them." + XXX " 100 " 24: mustn't _not_ musn't + XXXI " 109 " 32: needn't _not_ need'nt + XXXII " 119 " 40: eh!" _not_ eh! + XXXII " 120 " 30: "Who _not_ Who + XXXII " 128 " 13: stitch _not_ stich + XXXIII " 137 " 2: fidgetted _not_ figetted + XXXIV " 147 " 28: promptly _not_ promply + XXXIV " 155 " 32: questions?" _not_ questions? + XXXIV " 157 " 7: contrariwise _not_ contrarivise + XXXV " 163 " 4: eat," _not_ eat" + XXXV " 163 " 13: successive _not_ succcessive + XXXV " 163 " 35: forty _not_ fourty + XXXV " 171 " 12: birthday _not_ brithday + XXXVI " 180 " 2: tael. _not_ tael." + XXXVI " 190 " 20: birthday _not_ brithday + XXXVII " 194 " 18: comes _not_ come's + XXXVII " 198 " 10: To-morrow _not_ To-morow + XXXVII " 199 " 32: "Well," _not_ "Well", + XXXVII " 199 " 33: done." _not_ done? + XXXVII " 199 " 40: fairest _not_ fairiest + XXXVII " 206 " 13: mustn't _not_ musn't + XXXVII " 207 " 36: get _not_ ged + XXXVII " 211 " 16: do?" _not_ do? + XXXVIII " 219 " 6: stomachaches." _not_ + stomachaches. + XXXVIII " 228 " 13: while _not_ whily + XXXIX " 232 " 5: with?" _not_ with?,' + XXXIX " 237 " 9: conscious _not_ concious + XXXIX " 242 " 1: temple." _not_ temple. + XL " 245 " 38: little _not_ litte + XL " 248 " 11: silk." _not_ silk?" + XL " 254 " 12: They're _not_ The're + XL " 255 " 8: autograph _not_ authograph + XL " 257 " 16: mustn't _not_ musn't + XL " 258 " 13: fogies _not_ foggies + XL " 258 " 20: predilection _not_ predeliction + XL " 258 " 35: curtains." _not_ curtains. + XL " 258 " 39: enough." _not_ enough. + XL " 263 " 8: peony _not_ peone + XLI " 278 " 11: haven't _not_ have'nt + XLII " 282 " 4: haven't _not_ have'nt + XLII " 282 " 19: haven't _not_ have'nt + XLII " 283 " 14: ensconce _not_ ensconse + XLII " 284 " 26: medicine _not_ medecine + XLII " 284 " 39: medicines _not_ medecines + XLII " 285 " 27: medicines _not_ medecines + XLII " 288 " 5: aren't _not_ are'nt + XLII " 290 " 27: locust _not_ lucust + XLII " 290 " 27: feed.'" _not_ feed.' + XLIII " 309 " 31: grandiloquent _not_ grandeloquent + XLIV " 314 " 12: shouldn't _not_ should'nt + XLIV " 316 " 4: mustn't _not_ must'nt + XLIV " 317 " 6: employed the _not_ employed on + the + XLIV " 322 " 3: differed _not_ differred + XLIV " 322 " 31: swelled _not_ swole + XLIV " 323 " 15: unhappiness _not_ uuhappiness + XLV " 337 " 30: ginseng _not_ ginsing + XLV " 338 " 22: medicines _not_ medecines + XLV " 343 " 30: uselessly _not_ uselesly + XLVI " 352 " 26: mightn't _not_ mighn't + XLVII " 372 " 32: friendship _not_ frienship + XLVII " 378 " 3: proffered _not_ proferred + XLVIII " 380 " 21: worldly _not_ wordly + XLVIII " 386 " 4: antithetical _not_ antetithical + XLVIII " 386 " 23: Ling _not_ Ling, + XLVIII " 386 " 23: smile _not_ smiled + XLVIII " 386 " 35: stanzas _not_ stanaas + XLVIII " 389 " 24: cockatoo _not_ cuckatoo + XLVIII " 391 " 27: 'Tis _not_ T'is + XLVIII " 391 " 31: 'Tis _not_ T'is + XLIX " 393 " 34: would'st _not_ woulds't + XLIX " 393 " 37: 'tis _not_ t'is + XLIX " 401 " 1: simultaneously _not_ + simultaneouly + L " 411 " 25: 'tis _not_ t'is + L " 413 " 17: 'tis _not_ t'is + L " 415 " 35: But by and bye _not_ But and bye + L " 417 " 17: 'tis _not_ t'is + L " 417 " 17: 'tis _not_ 't'is + [yes twice in the same line] + L " 417 " 25: 'tis _not_ t'is + L " 418 " 10: haven't _not_ have'nt + L " 423 " 38: blossom _not_ blosson + LI " 437 " 37: matter.'" _not_ matter." + LII " 446 " 21: medicine _not_ medecine + LII " 446 " 27: medicines _not_ medecines + LII " 449 " 5: medicines _not_ medecines + LII " 460 " 3: anniversary _not_ anniversay + LIII " 462 " 13: perspiring _not_ prespiring + LIII " 464 " 7: peonies _not_ peones + LIII " 468 " 23: haven't _not_ have'nt + LIII " 471 " 39: Apparent _not_ Apparrent + LIII " 476 " 9: homage _not_ hommage + LIII " 476 " 14: consonant _not_ consonnant + LIV " 487 " 5: trod _not_ trode + LIV " 487 " 12: "This _not_ This + LIV " 488 " 36: Isn't _not_ Is'nt + LIV " 490 " 15: me?" _not_ me? + LIV " 490 " 19: say, _not_ say," + LIV " 491 " 23: comfortable _not_ confortable + LIV " 495 " 12: exhilarated _not_ exhilerated + LIV " 495 " 19: smilingly _not_ similingly + LV " 503 " 10: and _not_ aud + LV " 507 " 32: Mrs. _not_ "Mrs. + LV " 507 " 33: making _not_ make + LVI " 525 " 27: Aren't _not_ Are'nt + LVI " 529 " 18: mustn't _not_ musn't + LVI " 535 " 20: notwithstanding _not_ + nothwithstanding + LVI " 536 " 36: aren't _not_ are'nt + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HUNG LOU MENG, BOOK II *** + +This file should be named 7hlm210.txt or 7hlm210.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7hlm211.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7hlm210a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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